#min yoongi x you

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fic #min yoongi series #suga x reader #bts fanfiction #bts series #min yoongi x you

Tue, 18 Jan 2022 20:49:30

Utopia. | III. | Min Yoongi, 5k

Pairing:Yoongi x Reader

Summary:Yoongi wants to build a utopia based on how he feels.But he fears that all that is left is ugly, festering emotions. In spite of that, he remembers that he had hope, once.

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This is also available onAO3.

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There are benefits to withholding information.

For one, Yoongi was able to work through his emotions alone. Mostly keeping to himself, it was an unspoken rule to those around him that he preferred to have his head down, hard at work. Solitary as he was in his habits, he liked being an island. Besides, those he worked with didn’t carry the same burden he did. The claws of guilt breaking the grooves of his brain becomes as easy as drawing breath in the quiet of the night. He didn’t need grating small talk to add to the fatigue.

But there are also drawbacks. Like the obvious sympathy conveyed in concerned stares. Namjoon was always helpless at the face of Yoongi’s torment. Then came the overwhelming emotion of ineptness that followed the lack of inspiration he feels. To miss you was to miss himself as a person and as a creator of cities.

“Hyung, it’s past three, you should go home and rest.”

Yoongi shakes his head even though they’re conversing over the phone.

“I have to get over this, whatever this is. I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened before,” he said after a while.

The glass in front of him is empty, the ice cubes diluting the whiskey collected at the bottom.

“Is it hard to revisit those memories, hyung?”

Yoongi surprises himself with his answer.

“No. Those times were the happiest I ever was.”

Namjoon inhales sharply and Yoongi senses that there were questions at the tip of his tongue.

“You always work hard and I don’t think the Emperor wouldn’t trust you this much if you didn’t make good cities.”

Just then, it began to rain, blurring the outside scenery into a cascade of watery colours. Yoongi rubs his temple with his index and middle finger, tugging the skin against his skull. All he ever did was live in a cycle of pain these days.

“I don’t think working hard can always guarantee success,” he replied.

“All of the magnificent cities you built were as a result of your hard work, hyung. You poured everything into constructing those new homes,” Namjoon continued.

But Yoongi didn’t want to remember.

Remembering conjures not only the images of the cities he made, but also of images of you. He rocked the crystalline tumbler to and fro. The amber liquid tipped to the side, rendered pale under the moonlight.

“Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day, hyung.”

The line goes dead and Yoongi’s alone.

He’s alone as he traverses the apartment. Everything remains more or less the same and he tries to erode the memories he’s attached to the place and its items. If he can’t find happiness, the least he could do is accept the face of his own misery.

A mug was just a mug. Not something special that he kept because you told him you found the chipped rim unique. The easel leaning against the wall of his office, which used to be belong to you, he used to hang random things. There was no paint left in the house and the finished work you had hanging on the wall, he stored elsewhere. Conscious forgetting helps the raw ache in his chest, a Pavlovian conditioning he fashioned against the abyss that awaited him in his thoughts.

Yoongi is honest but never with himself.

There was nothing he could do to bring you back, so he stays where he was, remembering to forget.

With a couple of cities under his portfolio, Yoongi begins to make serious money.

Imperial City had a notorious night life and it was unavoidable to live in its walls without getting your hands a little dirty. Those hard to get places were scarcely advertised but you and Yoongi were at the wrong place at the right time.

AMBROX was a known and exclusive club catering for those at the upper echelons of society. Yoongi was eligible because of the status in his ID. The Imperial Seal could get you almost anywhere. Inside was a basement space, cushioned in crushed velvet walls where the patrons were ushered into smaller rooms hidden by thick curtains. It smelled sweet, like bursts of vanilla were injected in the air every second or two.

“Is this really how the other half live?” You whispered, rubbing your arm.

Yoongi’s eyes darted along the main reception area. He saw employees gathering coats and jackets, others were talking with patrons, their smiles a little to wide, implicitly asking for a tip. He passes someone heading out, their irises were like gold rings, burning bright in the dim interior.

“It might be how some spend their free time,” he guessed, distracted by an usher who gently took his jacket from him.

You stuck close, your fingers curling over his as you were taken to an even darker booth. Few words were exchanged between you and the server as a silver tray appears on the small table. The sofa’s were comfortable, moulding to the contours of his back.

The lid is lifted and you look at the server.

“First time?” They asked, their tone hinting boredom.

In front were two shot glasses, two pills, and a small container with two square stickers, small enough to be discrete.

“How do you want it?” They asked, setting the lid down next to the tray.

Yoongi doesn’t even get a chance to speak before you reached forward, taking the small container. The server nods, waving his fingers over the rejected options. The shot glasses and pills disappear in a plume of vanilla scented smoke. Soon after, they leave, overlapping the curtains for privacy.

“Yoongi, look,” you said, placing an opaque square sticker on his palm.

You don’t wait before placing it on the wet surface of your tongue, humming as it dissolves in no time. He swallowed thickly as your eyes become flecked with gold, your pupils blowing to an impossibly wide size. You laughed, no, giggledas you folded into yourself, the side your head hitting the back of the couch in a muffled thump.

“Try it,” you coaxed, pushing his palm up near his mouth. You were always the one willing to try things, willing to go a step further than him with anything.

At your suggestion, he places it at the tip of his tongue, shivering slightly at the saccharine taste. He smiles like you did, feeling like he was wading through honey. A sickly and syrupy weight descended upon his bones, if he moved, it was in slow motion. When he closed his eyes, he saw visions of cities he had yet to build.

Yoongi laughed with you, threading your fingers together. You were so beautiful under the light, aglow in his gaze. He grins, tracing the line of your jaw, wanting to say something.

What did I want to say again?

You come closer, kissing him artificially. It was more of a peck than anything but he feels his heart swell within his ribcage.

“‘Am meant to say something,” he mumbled, lost in your touch. You nod, bumping your forehead against his.

“Feels good, right?” You asked, brushing your thumb on the high point of his cheekbone.

Yeah. It does.

Inexplicably so.

Later, when caught his reflection on the way out, he sees his own eyes have a bright ring of gold against the brown. You stumble out, laughing like a pair of fools, hands outstretched to the sky in wonder.

In the taxi, you sighed in bliss, your nose pressed against the crook of his neck.

“Yoongi?”

“Mn?”

“That was nice,” you murmured, your breath so soft on his skin. He squeezes your hand in his, clammy from being pressed together at the palms, your fingertips come up cold. He meets the driver’s eyes through the mirror, they dart back on the road as quickly as they landed on him.

“Think you could you get used to it?” He asked, searching your face. The gold is fainter now, but you still had an expression of bliss through your half-lidded eyes and easy smile.

“Your promotion or being high?”

He shrugs, the view from the window outside is a blur of colours. Imperial City shines in the night as it does in the day.

“Everything.”

A knock at the door startles Yoongi from his uncomfortable sleep. He stretches, taking his time given that the visitor arrived at an ungodly hour. He leaves the couch, pushing his hair back with a damp palm.

“Hyung, it’s been a while.”

Jimin greets him with a shock of pink hair, his irises aglow in a bright, metallic gold.

“Come in.”

He waves the younger man inside, unashamed of the clutter that decorated the hallway. Jimin side-steps the mountain of shoes that spilled from the alcoves, then pretends not to notice the growing amount of dishes stacked like a tower on the sink. The apartment is submerged in darkness but even that couldn’t drive away the oppressive atmosphere of decay.

“Hyung…”

Yoongi sighed and dragged the chair back, waving for Jimin to take a seat.

“How come you’re here?”

Jimin takes a moment to reply. He looks at the multiple drafts of unfinished cities that buried the mahogany table.

“You called me, hyung.”

Yoongi blinks at the younger man’s reply.

“I did?”

Jimin nods, watching Yoongi’s face pinch at something that slipped his mind.

“You said you wanted to talk about something.”

Yoongi cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure if it was worth being embarrassed over. Everyone knew he was having a harder time than most. Jimin lowered his gaze, thumbing the abandoned designs. The rain stopped and the buildings glisten on all sides.

I wanted to talk about her.

“It’s for work.”

When Yoongi had some time off, he liked to stay at home. Thinking drained his energy and spending time with you recharged him. Though he would never be explicit in that, some things he liked to keep to himself.

But he knew it showed, especially in moments like these.

“Don’t laugh. This is harder than it looks, okay?” You said, dropping a pencil, then wincing as it rolled on the floor.

You were in front of his drafting table, the angle being too steep. Yoongi is reclined on the sofa opposite, a smile creeping up his lips as you made a preliminary sketch.

“I’m not laughing,” he retorted, dragging his hand over his face to hide the twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“I heard you.”

Yoongi coughed and inhaled deeply, “I was going to fall asleep so what you heard was a yawn.”

You sighed, and he allowed himself to smile.

“Wow, you’re so supportive and romantic. I don’t build cities for a living you know. I just teach kids how to paint.”

Yoongi turns his head to the side, sees you with a concentrated look on your face. In this new life you paint and teach at a prestigious high school even without much qualifications. Both of you live with more than what you had envisioned for yourselves.

“Want me to be supportive and romantic? Like that old film you always talked about? Ghost, was it?”

Before Galtea was reduced to rubble, you would talk to him about a film you saw once at the theatre. You would tell him that they had salvaged some copies of films from the past, films that were at least hundreds of years old. The one scene you would always go back to was the characters shaping some clay. To him, it sounded bothersome as creating things tended to be solitary, at least in the beginning. He deemed that the previous inhabitants of the world seemed more romantic then, at least in their scripts.

“You want me to recreate something like that and be romantic? Like sit behind you and guide the pencil with my hand on yours?”

He could envision you smiling behind the drafting table, rubbing your nose out of habit.

“No…” you trailed off, your eyes practically beckoning him to do the opposite.

The pencil glides over the parchment, he thinks you might on the cusp of creating something but there was no harm in helping you out. He gets up, crossing the distance and settles behind you. With his legs flanking yours, he layers his grip on your hand, pinching your fingertips to control the pencil.

Comfortable, you leant back, resting on his chest, letting him guide the lines over the imaginary city you’ve constructed. There were details you incorporated, columns that ended in stars, what looked like an observatory in the centre, houses that floated above the ground. He feels an idea flower in his mind. You hold his wrist with your free hand, adding another point to a different star.

“You’ve been thinking about your own city?”

You hummed.

“When I was at the orphanage, I spent a lot of time on the roof. I was tired of looking down, I wanted to be part of something infinite.”

And Yoongi understood.

It’s not quite Galtea, but something else altogether.

“I can make this real if you like.”

You shift your hold so that you were holding his hand. He couldn’t see your expression with your back turned to him.

“You drawing it is enough.”

“How are things back in your home?” Yoongi asked, pushing a crystalline tumbler towards Jimin.

The pink haired boy shrugs, chewing his bottom lip after he tipped his head back, the whiskey draining from the glass.

“Same old thing, hyung. My parents don’t let me out of their sight, I can’t work for more than three hours at a time.”

Yoongi remembers Jimin’s affluent upbringing, the palatial homes of Eriteria spanned acres, complete with copious orangeries. The sun always shone in Eriteria and Jimin was a golden child of prosperity and wealth.

“Do you miss it?”

The whiskey gets refilled to a third of the glass.

“Miss what?”

Jimin tips his head back in an almost violent snap, widening his mouth so that the amber liquid is deposited in an effortless cascade. His irises pulse in a glittery ring of gold, his rose hair falling back into place in a deliberate curve over his brow. Yoongi thinks he should choose his words carefully but abandons that task. He was never was one to pry but he was tired of pondering.

“Being high.”

Jimin frowns, pinching his eyebrows together. The gold in his irises flash with every blink. Yoongi can’t change things so seeks out answers that drip venom to his conscience.

“I don’t know. Sometimes, I miss feeling like… nothing.”

Yoongi thinks about the time when you began hiding the square stickers, your averted gaze when you knew your irises would shine unnaturally. Those became permanent if you were getting a steady supply and your eyes lit up like the stars.

“Why did you get into it?”

Jimin adjusts himself on his seat, his posture loosening like a puppet with its strings cut. The whiskey Yoongi had was imported, aged and sublime. It also sank in your blood easily, another high. Yoongi watches as Jimin picks at the skin on his thumb, pinching it with his teeth then pulls.

“I dunno, it felt good for a start -”

Yoongi remembers.

“And I thought I was in control. I didn’t go looking for it or anything, it just fell on my lap. Before, it was hard for me to stop thinking. When I got high, it was like everything stopped and I was just… floating.”

Jimin’s tone takes on a dreamy cadence, as if he was back in that drug-addled headspace.

“Do you think it was the same for her?” He asked, meeting Jimin in the eye.

“Could be. I’ve spoken to others who had our problem, they said that things slowed. The drug was great for people who couldn’t get out of their head, ironically enough.”

Yoongi sighed, taking another swig because he was extrapolating again. There weren’t any answers he could gleam and those that he could always left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“I think it’s because of the war. We didn’t see each other for a long time after Galtea fell, she never told me what happened to her during that time either.”

Jimin rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip, toying with the tumbler in his hand. Yoongi knew that the addiction won over him, as steady as the vines that crept along the walls of abandoned buildings in the cities that were pillaged.

“Who knows why people actually do things, hyung.”

Yoongi thought he knew you. He thought that you could never hide from each other after what you went through. Even when Galtea fell and you were driven out of your homes by the person that he now serves, you had each other. That’s what Yoongi tells himself when he feels like there’s a tourniquet to his chest.

“Is she in the same facility now?”

Yoongi shakes his head, tipping the glass back and wincing. The whiskey wasn’t as painful on his throat, but he could feel his chest spasm. Jimin was the only person he could talk to about you freely, like the three of you exist in this level of understanding.

A nexus of things that involve saccharine stickers and golden irises.

“She’s being cared for near here. Somewhere more advanced.”

War showed up differently, depending on who you were.

For Yoongi, it was a muted playback. A reel of shrapnel piercing the earth, vivid images of it obliterating his home. It was constant, endless. Building cities drowned them out. Creating something out of nothing compensated for all the destruction that he saw. In that sense, he could forgive himself when it became his turn to pillage in his own way.

But it wasn’t like that with you.

You held it in like you were a vessel.

He chastises himself, thinking about how he could miss something this integral. But he forgets how hard you tried to hide it. During the times you thought he wasn’t looking, your hands would tremble or your voice would sound far away. Perhaps, due to his own private limitations, he hung onto the hope of it passing like it did for him.

All things passed; such was the principle that he subscribed to.

Yet even in the peace of your slumber, he could tell of your hidden tumult through your fitful pulse, the cold sweat absorbed by the sheets at the crack of dawn.

One time on accident, he dropped some of his drafting instruments. The clatter of metal on hardwood had you collapsing on the floor, your hands covering your ears as you rocked yourself backwards and forwards. He came near you, apologising through the soothing motion of his hand up and down your back but to no avail. You were no longer in the room with him, muttering intelligibly, eyes wide and breath heaving.

In that moment, he was reminded the when you fled Galtea, you had to find your own bearings. What happened in the two years you didn’t see each other was information he wasn’t privy to. You had said a comment in to him in passing, during a time when the threat of uprising against the Emperor gained traction.

You can’t beat a gun, Yoongi. You just can’t.

Sometimes, you painted him a picture and he wasn’t sure if it was out of choice. Your eyes couldn’t meet his and he understood. Ugly things have a habit of taking root and even the dregs of war had the potential to shred you from the inside out.

He knows because he catches you staring into space, paintbrush coated in bright vermillion dripping messily on the canvas.

Concerned, he says your name and you laugh it off, resuming a dramatic arc. Surmising that that was meant to be deliberate, it somehow ended up looking like a bloody smile on pure white cotton. But you couldn’t hide the shattered handful of mugs as a result of that phantom tremor in your hands.

War never left you and Yoongi couldn’t do anything about it.

He thought of all of this, drowning out the explanation of the physician who led him to the hallway lined with observation pods. Similar facilities dot the area of Imperial City. There were some excesses that grew unmanageable, and you fell prey to the drug that turned your eyes into the sun. With the windows clear, he recognised the children of some of the officials he knew, all with vapid stares and gold-flecked irises.

“She’s doing well. We’re administering our first-rate programme to wean her off the drug.”

In front of a discrete window, Yoongi forces himself to watch as they pump a bag with liquid gold. The dose seemed more than what he was used to seeing, attached to a slim wire that ended in a needle feeding into your veins.

“Can she feel anything?” He asked, his mouth twisting as your head dropped to the side.

The physician pushes their glasses up, their nose pointed down at your chart on the clipboard. It was your first visit and Yoongi hoped that it would be your last.

“Not usually.”

Yoongi didn’t need to hear more. It was too late and money was no use if it couldn’t bring you back.

On the way out, someone bumps into him. A boy with rose pink hair and a smile far too bright for the environment.

“What were you doing that far into the facility?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

Yoongi bargained with himself whether he should talk to this presumptuous individual. As a form of caution, he doesn’t answer, walking along the stretch of the hallway, heading for the exit.

“Hello?”

“I’m here to visit,” he replied, curt.

“Hmph. You must be fucking rich for them to allow you to see the procedures.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw.

No amount of money could buy what I want.

He keeps walking while the kid follows.

“Are they important to you? The person you visited?”

He halts in the rhythm of his walk, glancing at him. One look should determine it all, one look that he never could keep in for too long. It made him appear as dejected as he felt.

“She is,” he replied.

A hand comes out, waiting for him to take it.

“Jimin.”

Yoongi stares at it, sees the plastic tag with an iron-clad seal of Imperial City Rehab on the his wrist. A discrete, plastic rectangle showed more information.

Park Jimin. Third visit. Patient no. 1310

He takes the handshake, wraps his fingers over Jimin’s palm. His touch is cold like yours.

“Yoongi.”

“I’m building a new city for the Emperor,” Yoongi divulges.

“Ah.”

It’s deep into the night, all of the blinds were drawn and Jimin had taken to tidy up the place. Yoongi allowed him since Jimin wanted to help. Tasks like these gave the illusion of normalcy, of order. After a while, his apartment became noticeably cleaner, the items previously scattered were now in their respective homes. Yoongi wish he could be placed like that, he often felt destitute nowadays.

“It’s been… difficult,” he added, clearing his throat.

Jimin nods, this time from the couch, his gaze to scenery outside. Yoongi’s apartment was well above ground, his view being the surrounding sky scrapers and luxury apartments that this area was famed for. It was funny to think that he had spent much of his early life avoiding the idea of looking down when that was the only thing he was doing lately.

“Were you given any further instructions, hyung?”

The Emperor wrote him a letter that he destroyed when he thought he wasn’t the person for the job. But the words were etched in his mind all the same.

I want you to build me a utopia.

“I think he wants me to build something perfect, something important. A utopia was what he said.”

Jimin turned, searching Yoongi’s face and finding uncertainty.

“She reminds you of all of those things.”

Yoongi nods, honest for once. Jimin lifts his legs, folding them close to his chest so he could embrace them.

“Have you tried talking to her, hyung? I’m sure that she’ll be able to hear you.”

Shame breeds itself in the pit of Yoongi’s stomach. When he talked to you, all that came out were apologies.

I’m sorry I didn’t help you in time.

I’m sorry for ignoring your unhappiness.

I’m sorry.

“I thought we were happy,” he said, after a while. Jimin looks at him with sympathy, his golden irises are muted.

“It could happen to anyone, hyung.”

The silence that followed was telling. Both he and Jimin knew the futility of those words. It happened to Jimin and he got out. He now lives a normal life, and even though he wears his addiction in a visible marker, he can rejoin society, making something of himself again. Yoongi doesn’t know if your fate was riddled with rotten luck but he blames himself for even taking you to that part of Imperial City.

The first time you are checked in, Yoongi is allowed to visit twice a week and he stays overnight when he can. He’s always thankful that when he is over you are lucid, or at least trying your hardest to be.

Together on the single bed, too rickety for the amount he’s paid for, and when the moonlight is the sole source of clarity, the quiet becomes inviting rather than insidious. He ignores the tag on your wrist that labels you as ‘Patient,’ he ignores the intermittent shivers you couldn’t conceal and keeps you close.

“When I was back in the orphanage, they told me that my ancestors came from the North, that they were people of the sea sold to owners for hard labour and very little pay,” you murmured, running your fingertip over a prominent vein on your wrist. The slightest pressure pushes the gold close to the surface, it glows and reminds both of you of your malaise.

Yoongi knows that you were brought to the orphanage at the age of seven.

“They told me that they were people of the stars, they always looked up, finding safety in the constellations,” you said as he listened.

“Galtea must have been disappointing,” he joked. You turn to him, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I would have had a better time if I stayed where I was. I met you in Galtea by chance and it was the best thing that ever happened to me,” you replied, draping your leg over his.

He blinked. You think that you met by chance for the first time on the way to get food rations but he thinks about the nights he spent gawking at you in that club. He realises that he never told you about the very first moment he saw you. Instead, he pushes his palm against yours, the steady thrum of your pulse radiates. He adjusts the narrative to appease.

“You think that chances are trustworthy, then,” he said.

You lean up and kiss his cheek, your lips are warm and inviting.

“Of course. It’s how we met.”

Jimin gets up and walks towards a bookshelf. He takes out a leather bound tome, flipping through it with curiosity. Yoongi has memorised those pages, an album of sorts. Still frame images of his glittering career, his accolades in two-dimensional snap shots. Architects were revered in Imperial City, though outside its limits, it might be a different story. Jimin stops flipping the pages, the tome perfectly halved in the middle. Yoongi meets him, staring down at the picture.

It stands out because it was a small picture in the middle of an empty space.

In the neat square, your smiles were radiant. It was taken by the gates of Arora, soon after it was opened.

The stars were in the backdrop, bright in spite of the sun above.

“Hyung?”

“Hm?”

“Where was this taken?

Yoongi traces your figures, grateful that the camera was able to preserve your contentment.

“Arora.”

Weeks after you were brought home from the facility, Yoongi intends to build the drawing that took root at the back of his mind, itching to materialise from the drafting table in his office. A city of infinite capacity, a city of stars.

One evening, when he was sure that you were asleep, he sits up. Feverish with excitement, he leaps from the bed, his fingers itching for anything to draw with.

The entire city came to him in a dream: a proliferation of constellations borne from the stories you told him.

If you were to build me a city, build one like the one we drew together.

Which one? He joked, feigning ignorance.

You know the one.

Hours pass by while he works like a madman, mapping out the parameters, white lines thick against a gridded background. The parchment he used was the best he could find, the materials the finest he could afford.

The label above is blank but he already had a name for a city made up of stars.

Arora.

No less than six weeks later, the city is built. It stands, imposing at the gates, the stars that top the walls are solar. He walks with you in a luxuriating page, hand in hand. Pausing by the entrance, he waves his ID, allowing entry. The skies are clear and the stars outnumber the incoming populace. They were coming from the North, whimsical and in need of hope.

Yoongi built Arora for you, though.

The effect on its people were incidental. It was you who he wanted to look up.

It was you who he wanted to hope.

“Would you like a picture?”

There was already a camera with the lens pointed at you and him. Shirking away, you fuss over your hair, eyes downcast because the gold was noticeable now. The glittery rings of addiction, bright wherever you went. Yoongi holds your hand tightly, nodding at the photographer.

“Yoongi…” you whispered, hesitant.

A smile spreads on his lips. He wanted to remember this, a moment where you were both happy.

“It’ll be okay.”

He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the picture in the end.

previously./next.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fic #min yoongi series #suga x reader #bts fanfiction #bts series #min yoongi x you

Tue, 18 Jan 2022 20:49:27

Utopia. | II. | Min Yoongi, 3.8k

Pairing:Yoongi x Reader

Summary:The creative process is difficult, if not elusive. Yoongi grapples with this reality, frustrated at his lack of productivity. Building cities was second nature to him, like breathing. But of course, there are reasons for this and he knows that he must take the time to ride it out, and in that, he remembers.

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This is also available onAO3.

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Sunk below the flat line, the sun is halved in a bright, orange semi-circle. The trees cast long shadows across parched fields and in scattered groups, the animals, mostly horses and goats, graze on the cracked surface, their ribs visible through their shaggy fur.

Yoongi’s father grunts as he sits on a tree stump, hiking his leg up to rest his elbow on his knee. It was setting up to be another season of drought. Yoongi could see it in the slump of his father’s shoulders and hears it in the way the tips of the grass cracked from even the slightest push of the breeze.

“I don’t mind tending to the fields after I graduate,” Yoongi said, as if it could remedy the scarcity ahead. His father takes a moment to answer, flicking a fly that settled on the leathery skin of his thigh.

“You have more talent that me, your mother, and the rest of your siblings combined. Use it.”

Yoongi didn’t usually aspire to hear this from his father. He was one of three (soon to be four), and was the only one in university. Architecture landed on his lap like some primordial present. Perhaps because of his background, he didn’t feel beholden to such a gift. The people whom he owed his life to were meant to sustain the fields for generations to come and he didn’t expect to be an exception. It did nothing but make him feel like an outcast among his family. It displeased him at the best of times that he found more comfort in numbers and lines rather than the rough texture of the earth.

“Create something good, something that lasts,” his father said, rubbing the palms of his hands together. They were so dry that it sounded like he was scraping sandpaper together.

You could build legacies from the Earth too, he thought.

“I really don’t mind, father. I can take over, I am the oldest,” Yoongi reasoned, risking a quick glance. His father scowled at the sight ahead. One of the horses had taken to sit and it would be their job to haul it back to its pen.

“I didn’t want to plow fields for the rest of my days but sometimes, life hands you something before you can make a choice.”

Yoongi couldn’t look at his father so he fixed his gaze on the reddish sky. The pointed fir trees were upright, stiff from being exposed to scorching rays all afternoon. The air is dry and caused the chapped surface of his bottom lip to split when he curled it over his teeth. Blood spreads on his tongue, a distinct, coppery taste.

“You have a choice, Yoongi.”

At that, Yoongi chews the inside of his cheek. He didn’t like that his choices forced him to watch his family starve as they paid for his tuition. He disliked it even more that every time he came home, his siblings looked at him as if he was scum.

Mother told me that you were too busy studying and I had to pick up your shift in the morning.

Father told me to give you an extra helping of soup because you had exams.

Oh, you came home?

None of these were said in kind. Yoongi thought that he deserved it, a burden in exchange for this gift to create.

Before he could protest, the voice of his mother pierces through their conversation. Far out at the bottom of the hill, she waves up at them, one hand on her lower back making the swell of her belly jut out. For once, he is grateful for the interruption even though he knows that the food awaiting him will hardly fill his stomach. His father gets up, sighing long and low. He extends his hand to Yoongi, who takes it gratefully. When he thought that it would be the last of their conversation, his father gives him a small smile. The lines at the side of his eyes are as deep as the fissures in the desiccated landscape.

“And find someone to hold on to, Yoongi. Find someone you can love until the end.”

Yoongi didn’t need to see how his father looks lovingly at his mother, as if she hung the stars and the moon.

Oddly though, while they worked together to push the lazy mare to the pen, Yoongi finds himself thinking about flashing strobe lights, multi-coloured hair, and stolen apples in the open market.

“Wouldn’t they be miserable if it rains all the time?”

Jungkook pushes the end of his pencil on the mole below his lip. Yoongi just so happened to catch the discussion he was having with Namjoon. The profile of these displaced inhabitants hailed from somewhere similar to Galtea.

“That doesn’t matter if it helps them thrive,” Yoongi said after a few moments in contemplation. The location of the pending city would have all seasons, a guaranteed break from the summer heat.

“Thrive?” Jungkook asked, to which Yoongi nodded.

“If they need to rely on the land for anything, they need it to be exposed to all kinds of different elements.”

Namjoon swipes his pencil over the numerous options for the location.

“It won’t rain all of the time, just most of the time. These people were mainly farmers, it would be familiar to them to live in an places where they can grow crops,” Namjoon reassured, shortlisting land where the sun may not have an overwhelming effect. If Yoongi had more concern, he would advise against building a city that was too familiar. Some things others would rather leave behind, after all.

Jungkook hums, indicating his understanding. Yoongi leaves then, mourning a loss that he couldn’t quite give a name to.

It turns out that the Emperor had no mercy.

Everything that Yoongi feared came true in the final months of his education.

The war against the Emperor’s forces began and never seemed to end. His father dies weeks before he was due to graduate and his mother and siblings, crestfallen and forlorn, were separated from him. Each week, he makes sure to post letters, none of which were replied to. With his nerves shot, he forces himself to accept that his family is torn and the fact that his father didn’t even have a grave. All that was left of his father was what Yoongi could remember and that was his feeble attempt to keep their family alive and healthy.

The final moments led to the haunting image of red-rimmed eyes, a weakened grip, and the words ending in the rattle of his last breath.

I’m proud of you, Yoongi. Make sure to never live like me.

Galtea continues to be submerged in flames from bombs crashing down like torrential rain, exploding into splinters and shaking the earth. Giant flying vehicles patrol the sky, their layered wings groaning in their articulation as its rusted doors descended to allow rockets to pelt the mountains in a continuous hurl. Yoongi’s ears would ring from the impact and the table on which he hid under was showered with rubble, his lungs fill with smoke. The university was the final stronghold and as Galtea was brought to its knees, Yoongi swallowed his vitriol and applied for the position of architect for the Imperial City.

When his acceptance rolled in, all he had to his name was a diploma and the few belongings he could gather from what was left of his home. His father’s watch remained clasped to his wrist even after the batteries faltered. His mother dies during childbirth and his siblings abandoned him, severing contact.

Once through the gates of Imperial City, along with the numerous displaced scholars, he commenced his apprenticeship alone and in a dream-like trance.

The Imperial City likes to leave room for the past. Yoongi can still remember what the Emperor used to say to him as they surveyed the down-trodden land below.

We must remember the past, Yoongi. It’s the only way to forge a path forward.

He walks along the marbled hall of the Great Museum, chronicling all of the Emperor’s conquests. His favourite section is all about rebuilding the torn cities showcased in an open room with an enormous map. The grooves of the land were constructed from the finest minerals: black opal, jadeite, then tanzanite. He stops by a oft forgotten corner in the South-West, leaning forward while he clasped his hands behind his back.

Since it’s late, the crowd had waned and it’s like he has the place to himself. His eyes try to pinpoint where Galtea used to be, nestled in the mountains and flanked by Dorea and Thanazt. Instead, he finds an empty space of flattened tanzanite, made dull against the muted lights above.

When he began, he aimed to create as many cities as he could to surpass all that he saw destroyed. Years passed and he had many places that had his name at the foot of the gates, an author of new homes and new pastures. By the time he was in his seventh year, his reputation preceded him.

Back then, he couldn’t understand why conquests needed to involve destruction. Even now, he still didn’t understand. In the vast hall, he knew that the reason for him dragging his feet was exhaustion. He was tired of all the loss, tired of watching countless become destitute, forced to flee their homes because of one man’s greed.

Having lived to survive in the early part of his career, it was a deliberate decision to suppress his hand in the destruction. He slept aware of the fact that for new cities to rise, the old ones must fall.

He lightly traces growth rings meant to be the parameters of where Galtea should be on the cool mineral. Its absence incites a sharp pain in his chest, each beat of his heart becoming more and more strenuous with each second passing by. The excited murmur of a family nearby makes him retract his hand. In the quiet of the grand hall, he clenches his jaw, breathing steadily through his nose.

The destruction is going to continue and Galtea is gone. He squints at the marbled texture, his reflection barely formed yet distinct. He sees his father in his features as he hears his voice filter past his lips.

Are you still proud of me?

In the third year of his apprenticeship, Yoongi sees you again, but instead of apples, you were hidden travel papers to flee. As part of his assignment, he was surveying the surrounding land that fell after the Emperor conquered much of the South. That day, he was at a small fishing village, Pexia. Its harbours heaved with crowds wanting to sail away before it was destroyed. In its place would be a new city, and if Yoongi was fortunate enough, he could be part of the team that would build it.

You were attempting to push your way to the top of the line as he jogs towards you, renewed by a familiar face. When he makes a grab for your arm, you were quick to flinch.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes grow wide, a smile tugging your lips wide as you embrace him, throwing your whole weight in the momentum. He allows himself to cradle your head, to breathe in your scent, to feel your body against his. A part of him latched onto the fact that the ache in his chest dulled at the sight of you.

“How are you?” he asked, right in your hair since you were still tangled in each other, as if letting go would make you disappear. Your answer first comes as a nod, the movement of your head pushing against the cradle of his hand.

“I’m good - I was going to leave.”

He feels your embrace loosen, he hears the crackle of the parchment in your hands as the documents peel themselves away from your hold.

“It’s so good to see you.”

Your eyes shone despite it all.

Galtea was gone and it showed in the hollows of your cheeks and the muted colour of your hair. You were lost, without a home again. With a gentle brush of his knuckle along the side of your face, he wills himself to anchor you both. The words come out since he doesn’t have the heart to stop them.

“I have a job.”

You stare at him, your features contracting at the prospect of hope. Yoongi feels you crumple the paper in your hand. Then, you are jostled by those lining up to leave the city limits, their faces obscured by hoods. Nearby, the boats bump against the stone walls, crusted with barnacles and battered by countless waves. Salt stains the air intermingled with the desperation for a place to sail away.

“It won’t be like this anymore. I promise.”

He sees you visibly relax, his words affecting you hugely, even if he wasn’t sure himself. Yet in his mind, he was going to build cities that you both dreamed of: free from war and strife.

“Alright.”

Jungkook had been circling Yoongi’s area for the past thirty minutes with no particular goal in mind. It was lunch and the junior architect hovered under the pretence of productivity. Yoongi slides a draft across Jungkook’s way.

“Has Namjoon showed you these?”

In front of them was an archived map of the Imperial City in the first phase of its construction. Jungkook shakes his head, his attention snagged by the foreign metrics no longer taught in modern schools. By that time, Yoongi was climbing the ranks, eager to survive and get into the superior’s good graces.

Jungkook surveyed the early plans which incorporated tall, aluminum spires, golden gates and bridges. The Emperor’s was luxurious by nature and nothing was spared.

Gold from Zantyr.

Minerals from Artacyte.

Marble from Siettan.

Yoongi could only remember the heavy footfalls of the soldiers, the groan of the wood as blocks of stone, bars of gold, and slabs of marble were transferred into multiple ferries. He couldn’t even look at the people below, knowing that he’d be faced with emaciated arms extended upwards for a morsel of anything from above. Instead, he clutched the papers with designs meant to replace each of the raided metropolises, watching with suppressed horror as the Emperor trailed his hungry gaze on the ramps that bowed from the weight of his plunder.

In the end, Yoongi hoped that turning a blind eye would keep him from the recurring nightmares of chipped nails scraping against the rusted metal of the ships hull. But as the day ended, even in the comfort of his bed and in the apparent safety of your arms, the screams were there. They haunted the halls of his mind, these manic echoes accusing his hands of blood wherever he went. He stood witness as the Imperial forces took and took until a city was fashioned to the Emperor’s liking.

During his expeditions as primary Architect, he stood near the bow of the boat, or the foremost chamber on the flying vehicles. Throughout, he found that the view was the same regardless of the contraption he was on.

The Emperor not only advances, he tramples.

Jungkook ran his fingertips over the lines of the Great Museum, stopping at the skylight dome. His furrowed brow worried Yoongi but he understood from Namjoon that Jungkook was too young. He knew nothing of the screams of the displaced or the hollowed stares of the destitute. Anything Jungkooks knew was taught to him in two-dimensional pictures meant to simplify a grave period in history.

As Yoongi attempted to show him another map, Jungkook slipped a different one from beneath the sheets of archival parchment. Galtea reveals itself on the parchment.

“Was Galtea spared, hyung?”

The name of his home drew a sharp breath from him. Jungkook watched him, innocuous in his interrogation. Yoongi shakes his head, mustering a forlorn smile. The junior architect pressed his lips together, scrunching his nose so that his glasses stayed perched on its bridge.

“What’s left of Galtea now?”

Yoongi licks his lips, his eyes on the growth rings that made up Galtea’s structure. Two-dimensional evidence of his own history, gathering dust in the Imperial archives.

Jungkook waits, patient in the face of his memories unravelling.

Galtea exists on the surface of his mind in its soot-covered infrastructure, with its shattered structures of gutted buildings and homes, the murky water of the river and the gnarled divide of the bridge that he once crossed to get to the Town Hall.

Yet beneath that all, in the very depths, Galtea is in your smile and the warmth of your hand over his. Galtea is tucked in the echoes of simpler times when all he needed to do was laugh with you as the sun set over the horizon. It’s in the humble bungalow he shared with his family, where his worries were limited to their next meal rather than staying alive after shrapnel ravages the land. Later, when he finally allowed himself to accept his situation, when he realised that he was the one who survived.He concluded that it was better to help than be helped.

Jungkook was waiting, setting his teeth against his bottom lip while Yoongi gathered himself.

“Galtea is just mountains and hills now, Jungkook-ah.”

Things start to look up when Yoongi builds his first city.

You were holding onto the handlebars of the hovercraft, steering the contained vehicle past the flower-twined gates of Palatia.Yoongi clutches at the seatbelt strapped across his chest, laughing heartily at your enthusiasm. Parking it above a vantage point, you gasped at the abundance of lilies, hydrangeas, and freesias lining the streets.

“You did this?” You asked, whipping back as he unbuckled to take a closer look.

“Not just me.”

“But it was your idea, right?”

He pinches a space at the back of his neck while a blush bloomed in his cheeks.

“Yeah.”

“You’re so fucking cool!” You yelled at the sky, prompting the widest smile from him. Yoongi knew he was good, so compliments rolled off his like water on a duck’s back. But it was different with you. Yours was an opinion he could trust, no matter how frivolous in its execution. Nearby, those entering the gates were startled by your exclamation. They squinted at the discrete hovercraft you were aboard, seeing only your hands gesticulating wildly, pointing at every landmark.

“I’ll build you one, someday.”

Yoongi said it before he could even stop himself. There were no regrets on his part, though. Not when he saw that smile that lit up your eyes.

“I want to have an input.”

Yoongi didn’t realise that it was love then.

But it showed in the cities he built thereafter.

“Okay.”

The Urban Planning department is in the lower floors. Yoongi scans his ID and the doors to the elevator slide open. Striding across the common area, Yoongi finds himself inside in an airless room without windows and lined with felt. Hoseok is visible because of his platinum blonde hair and gold-framed glasses, and mostly because he was in the middle of reprimanding a subordinate. Yoongi hangs back, trying to not appear as a witness to this scolding. Afterwards, when they slinked out of Hoseok’s office, Yoongi lets out a low whistle. He forgot how serious Hoseok could be.

“Hyung. What brings you here?”

Yoongi’s shrugs, his mouth pulling down in turn.

“I forgot how suffocating the Imperial Offices were.”

Hoseok shoves a box with neatly arranged files inside an alcove. It gets swallowed into the wall and deposited elsewhere via conveyor belt. He then gives Yoongi a once over, a direct response to his observation. Urban Planning was the size of a match box in comparison, and poorly ventilated at that.

“How’s the new city coming along?”

Yoongi sniffed, picking at the skin of his nail to stall, it catches and peels dramatically upwards, drawing blood. Hoseok stares but says nothing.

“It’s not going that well. I’m meant to build something perfect but I haven’t been able to come up with a single design.”

What Yoongi leaves out was the fact that he was also angry at himself. Angry because he cannot even do what he used to be good at doing. He feels like he’s at the bottom of a deep, dark well, bound at the hands and feet, blindfolded, utterly despairing.

Hoseok examines him with a neutral expression, his wiry arms folded tight over his chest. Yoongi slumps against his desk, as he often did when he was working down here. The atmosphere made you slump at all times. He supposed that producing the same design over and over without much thought was like successive weights on your body. There was no need to think much, he just had to do.

“Is there anything that means something to you? Anything important?”

Yoongi blinks at the reel of memories that were evoked by Hoseok’s question. He smiles instead, trying to mask the obvious discomfort that threatened to reveal itself in a frown. Later, with his back against the wall of the elevator, some part of him can still hear your laugh and the phantom warmth of your touch.

Yoongi can’t quite recall when his feelings tipped the scale to something concrete.

Being with you began with the intention of convenience. Having someone from Galtea navigate the enormity of Imperial City was like pairing a new frontier with the warm embrace of someone familiar. Years pass and while you never professed your love for each other, his hand lingers on yours automatically, and you smile brighter than most when you found him waiting outside of the school you worked at.

It’s in the mundane.

Love flourishes in ordinary conversation.

“Did you have a good day today?”

Love came and stayed in your touch.

He takes your hand when asked this since it seemed to slot perfectly against his. In turn, you swing your arms, backwards and forwards in a gentle rocking motion. Imperial City shines under the afternoon light. Its people thrive far from the blistering heat of flying automatons made for destruction. Galtea is gone but Yoongi is content to see it in your eyes and in the way your hair is healthy again.

“I did, but I could have met you at home,” you replied, bumping your shoulder to him. It brings out a halfhearted shrug from him.

“Your work is on the way anyway,” he said.

“Want to grab something to eat outside?”

He thinks of nothing better than that.

“Yeah.”

And while you’re distracted, he takes note of your profile as you surveyed the towering buildings, leagues away from the orphanage you hailed from in the peripheries. He basks in the fact that he was able to afford a better place, closer to the sky rather than the ground. In moments like these, he thinks he could hear his father’s words.

Make sure to never live like me.

As you round the corner, pulling him towards a place you frequented together, he thinks he’s far from who he was but closer to who he should be.

previously./next.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fic #min yoongi series #suga x reader #bts fanfiction #bts series #min yoongi x you

Tue, 18 Jan 2022 20:49:24

Utopia. | I. | Min Yoongi, 4.6k

Pairing:Yoongi x Reader

Summary:The Emperor requests a favour of Yoongi. It involves building a utopia, a perfect city. He’s done this countless times and succeeded in most, so why was it so hard for him this time around?

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Here’s the playlist for it, if you want to listen! :]

This is my first ‘major’ fic for the new year and I’m trying something a little different for this series. Firstly, this is my attempt at magical realism and it’s a particular universe that I’ve grown to love Secondly, I guess that I’ve tried to be more economical with words.

This is also available onAO3.

As always, thank you for reading

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In this dream, the snow falls over Galtea.

It blankets the hills that flank the walls of the city in an even layer of frost. The green gets covered in white, footprints become visible, like punctuation over the powdery surface. Yoongi finds himself walking towards that place, far away from where he was now.

A cottage juts out on the outskirts, perhaps near his home. A small, humble structure with a thatched roof and square windows. The chimney blows puffs of smoke, misting in the air.

He heads towards the red lacquered door, dragging his feet so it cut lines on the snowy path. Inside is warm and you’re sitting by the fire, undisturbed by his presence. Slipping off his shoes, he lines them up next to yours, its soles shiny from the melted ice. Closer he goes, until he’s finally in your view but you don’t see him.

Your eyes are clouded over and you’re slumped in your seat, mouth slightly parted to complete the catatonic expression you had. Yoongi drops to his knees so he looks up at you, reaching with his hand to cradle your face.

Even his touch does nothing to rouse you.

Yet he tries, rising while still on his knees, pressing a kiss on your lips.

It’s chapped, lifeless and cold. He’s not sure if he could even feel a whisper of your breath or whether you’re actually alive or not. The thought fills him with dread.

When he pulls away, he wakes up with a jolt.

The grey ceiling of his bedroom greets him, the window is open and the curtain billows ceaselessly. It’s dawn, there is something wet by his thigh. His body takes time to thaw, his fingers and toes tingling like static. He runs his touch over the wet cotton nearby, recalling his state the previous evening.

I was designing.

I received a letter from the Emperor. A request for a favour.

I have to build a new city.

His heart has slowed as he cranes his neck to see. The wet patch was spilled ink, the pitch black ichor of his thoughts are now staining the sheets. He lifts his hand, the ones with soaked fingertips, up to his lips. They come up cold at the memory of that dream.

Getting up was actually painful nowadays and if he stays in bed for too long, he would never get up. In a quick, forceful launch, he sits up, feet planted firmly on the hardwood floor.

It’s another day and he’s alone.

Yoongi observes the blueprints meant for a new city, envisioning the structure and the parameters of something that will once again have his mark. He’s done this before, countless times even. It should be like second nature by now, yet there is nothing on the page apart from the grooves of heavy pressure from his pencil now erased and surrounded by rubber shavings. Bordering his non-existent design were the various tools to aid him, and in his frustration, were in cluttered disarray.

The communal working space was bathed in light, the windows were recently cleaned allowing for the view of bright, white clouds. Yoongi was at the highest point of Imperial City. The illusion was that there was nothing beneath him, but in truth, he was tired of looking up.

“How’s it going?”

Namjoon wanders over to his desk, pushing his glasses further up his nose. Yoongi sighed, shoving the worn parchment away from him.

“I’ve been the same for the past three days. Nothing is coming to me.”

Taking it as a signal to introduce a break, Namjoon settles his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder.

“We can have some food, maybe you need a break.”

Yoongi takes his attention away from the task on his desk and back onto the window ahead. The clouds were rolling in a misty haze. He is meant to be inspired but he finds himself stuck in the well of his mind.

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

Namjoon’s hand has left him, the absence of the firm pressure made Yoongi sag onto his seat.

“Let’s eat.”

Namjoon chews carefully, his brows pinching together.

The cafeteria was bustling during this time of the day. Food was in abundance in Imperial City, nothing was spared for its inhabitants. Yoongi was grateful to be surrounded by constant noise. He hates his thoughts running amok in his skull. They always leave grating echoes that made him irritable.

“How were things while I was gone?”

Namjoon takes a cloth and wipes his front. The crumbs trickle down, disappearing to his lap.

“Much of the same things. We weren’t tasked to build cities that were too elaborate. I have a junior architect to mentor, you’d like him. He reminds me of you.”

Yoongi chews the inside of his cheek. He can’t remember the time when he started nor could he picture himself at that age, young and impressionable. Someone who still believed in the world he lived in.

The food in front of him was steadily being devoured, even in his state of indifference. To eat is another form of distraction, a method to keep him sustained whilst his mind was rotting, stagnant in his ideas. Namjoon gets distracted by the files he brought to review.

“What do you think about adding spires to this, hyung?”

The design presented before him was meant for a city without linear structures. Everything will either be curved or coiled: a city in the the shape of springs. Namjoon was pointing to a cathedral, Yoongi set his teeth on his bottom lip. At the corner of the document was the number of people meant to populate the new city.

10,000.

A memory gets introduced to him. That was how it was like when he started. Yoongi made his first city for exactly ten-thousand inhabitants. Yet each time after, the population multiplied and his designs grew more and more complex. It seemed that the Emperor managed to take over more land, in turn, demanding more cities to house them. Old cities burned and Yoongi built over them, gradually and in time.

“Maybe you can incorporate it in every structure. They should be able to feel comfortable in their new home.”

Namjoon nods, producing a pen from his pocket and sketching in Yoongi’s suggestions. He knew that those ten-thousand were coming from war. Recently, the Emperor returned from a three-year long plunder in the East. The displaced needed something magnificent, something to make them feel important. Structures that showed them that surviving wasn’t in vain. Yoongi knew that it was difficult to leave things behind, especially if you had no choice.

“What is this one called?”

Pushing the bowl aside, Namjoon draws a steady and careful arc, signifying a dome over the new city. He smiled at Yoongi, the small indents flanked his mouth.

“Paxus.”

‘Galtea’s economy is primarily dependent on agriculture.’

Yoongi felt his ears burn, self-conscious in the classroom. He sits near the middle, not quite out of radar but far enough to blend in. Most of his classmates were from newer cities, ones that were dependent on technology, not the land.

The board showed a profile of his home, the factions split by clear demarcations. Further out were the peripheries, he thinks he can see where his home would be, gauging which fields that his father would tend to, then see his mother sorting crops with his siblings.

He’s in university, learning how to build cities. Full of ideas and passion, his dream is to construct cities that would last.

The professor changes the slide to the neighbouring metropolis, Dorea.

With his head down, he scribbles notes on his notebook, his handwriting is scratchy and barely legible. It didn’t matter; he was the only one who needed to understand it. After, he notices that the spine is weakened from being jostled in his threadbare bag. He adds another string to hold all the knowledge he’s accumulated.

At the end of the day, he has to travel back home and take the earliest train if he was to make it for supper. Though sometimes, he wishes he could afford to stay in university accommodation.

It’s the evening and the other employees have headed home.

Yoongi chews the end of his pencil as the page stays empty. He reaches for the phone and dials a number he knows off by heart.

“Yoongi-hyung, it’s late, are you doing okay?”

Hoseok’s voice at the end sounds the same at any time of day.

Yoongi lets himself absorb the view outside the panoramic windows. Another day had passed without progress. The city he was tasked to build remains buried in the recess of his mind and the frustration he felt always peaked in the evenings, more so in the quiet. He likens it to climbing an endless, each foothold was deeper but he can’t seem to hold onto anything.

“I’m meant to build a city.”

Perhaps if he details the task, he would be able to start afresh. Outside, the clouds are a deep shade of navy, the stars are scattered like luminescent freckles in the sky. He doesn’t know why he undertook that favour from the Emperor; he wasn’t even part of the Architecture Department anymore.

“Try and think back to the beginning, hyung. The very first city you built was magnificent. You’re talented and Palatia was a beautiful city - still is.”

Yoongi leaned back on the chair, cricking his neck as he did so.

Palatia was a city for lovers. Pleasant to live in, it had intricate ivy vines crept along the columns, flowers blooming at the window sills of every home, and yellow brick facades with burgundy slanted roofs. Simply, Yoongi thought that anything stemming from a labour of love would turn out like that.

“I don’t know. This has to be something different. I need it to mean something.”

“Don’t all of your cities mean something to you?”

There was a time when they were the most important thing to him. There was a time where he was responsible for building all of these cities from scratch, conjuring entire structures from his imagination. He can still remember the firm handshake from the Emperor after Palatia was opened.

This is good work, Yoongi. I’m glad that you’re helping me rebuild the world.

It was so easy then, so why was he having so much trouble now?

“What’s interesting to you at the minute?” Hoseok asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, defeated.

“What are you looking at now?”

Yoongi stared at the clouds, watching as each one rolled by unhurriedly. Nature was interesting, he had taken inspiration from it a while ago. It resulted in Falia, a city surrounded by green foliage where homes were bungalows with banana leaves for roofs. The city is so embedded in nature that at first glance, you can’t even tell that it’s a city. The walls are made of bamboo and it’s common to travel along the river to get where you want to be. Its inhabitants lived without fear for their next meal, something that Yoongi aimed for himself once.

“I’m staring out of the window of my office, but I’ve already made something inspired by nature a couple of years ago.”

There was a pause; Yoongi hears the creak of a chair over the line.

“What do you want this city to be?”

Yoongi recalls the Emperor’s request.

I want you to build me a city that is perfect. I want you to make me a utopia. I trust your abilities, Yoongi.

“The Emperor wants a utopian city. But I don’t think I have it in me to come up with something like that.”

“Well, what do you define as your own utopia?”

Yoongi’s eyes were back on the blank parchment; it was the fourth sheet he’s taken on the fourth day, and it was the fourth he’s crinkled from countless revisions only to end up with nothing.

I want it to be perfect. I want it to be beautiful. I want -

He tries to picture something akin to that: an ideal city with ideal proportions, everything made just right. Seconds pass as Hoseok waits on the other side of the line, patient with these drawn out pauses that so often punctuate their phone calls. When he thinks he’s onto to something, he winces reflexively.

It’s too close.

He can still hear your voice, feel your touch on his skin, the way your hand closed over his when you led him past the gates into Palatia, as if you were showing him your home.

This is so beautiful, Yoongi.

Yoongi wants that. He wants this city to feel just like that.

Yoongi didn’t have any money in his pockets but he knew the man at the entrance of the underground club. Before the throb of the walls became prominent, he would encounter the burly man with a permanent downturned scowl. Incidentally, Yoongi saved his brother from being clipped by a trash truck and that singular event has granted him free entry ever since.

Through the narrowed passage, he descended down sticky steps that clung to the soles of his shoes. The music was loud enough to get under his skin, causing every bone in his body to thrum to the beat. Above, Yoongi lived with his head down, eyes to the cobbled floor, striving to be as less of a nuisance as possible. Here, he could look up, shielded by the ever changing strobe lights, pushed up against random bodies until he was covered in sweat.

It’s a release.

It was somewhere he goes to in the gap between university and his home.

But there were other reasons to come apart from boredom. He first sees you swan out from one of the entrances, your gaze concentrated at the tables you were assigned to. It became a fascination of his to watch you serve drinks, your hand splayed underneath an uneven plastic tray, undulating it like a wave when necessary to avoid spillage.

All you ever did was work and all Yoongi ever did was stare.

He didn’t know why dyed hair seemed more compelling to him now than it did before. Above, everyone could have different coloured hair if they liked. When he was hanging out with his classmates, they would dye strips of their hair for fun during recess, the hues would catch the rays of sun and sometimes lighten over time. Though he supposes that under the flashing lights, you didn’t really have a singular hair colour. It seemed to always change depending on which part of the club you were in.

The music continued to pound while bodies moved in a blurry distortions. You were meters away from him, untouchable. He didn’t know your name, nor had he ever spoken to you, but he knew that you would almost always swat unsolicited hands that crept along your back, and swore brazenly at those who wanted more than a drink. One time, you kneed a customer between his legs for slipping his fingers through the hem of your shorts. Yoongi laughed so hard then, heading home with a spring in his step.

Not old enough to order a drink, he hung back, face up, towards the artificial lights. The beat continued to shake the structure of the club, a contained box underneath the solid stone of the city. Here, he was a nobody. Much like he was above ground.

But it was different here.

Sometimes, he would get the feeling that he was boneless, ready to float off at a moment’s notice because he was being pushed in different directions at once.

He feels someone elbow him in the ribs, the dull pain made him reorient himself. Just then, you were nowhere to be seen. Craning his head, he looked for the two doors, one leading to another bar and the other leading to the exit. After a few seconds, you emerged, the lights above making your hair appear a cherry red. He’s not sure if your eyes met, he was still a little buzzed from the atmosphere.

All he knew was that there was something that bloomed in his chest every time he set his eyes on you. It only took one look at you while you busied yourself with handing drinks to anchor him. To keep coming back to this hole in the wall.

Yes.

It was different here.

Despite running on three hours of sleep, Yoongi ends up in the office as if it was a morning shift. By his desk, Namjoon was talking to someone animatedly. Once Yoongi was near enough, Namjoon opens up the floor for introductions.

“Jungkook, this is Min Yoongi. Chief Architect to the Emperor,” Namjoon said, scraping the chair back so Yoongi could sit.

“I’m just here for a temporary project, I’m actually at Urban Planning now,” he said, offering Jungkook a small smile.

“TheMin Yoongi?” Jungkook asked, his eyes bright and wide. Yoongi shoots Namjoon a look, aware of Jungkook’s ‘Junior Architect’ badge. It reflected the natural light that filtered past the windows.

“What did you tell him?”

Namjoon shrugged, “nothing incriminating.”

Jungkook promptly shut his mouth but his gaze stayed fixed on Yoongi, who became shifty from the attention.

“Hyung told me that you made Palatia.”

“And Arora,” Namjoon supplied.

Yoongi feel himself going red at the tips of his ears while Namjoon only beams proudly. Those cities were near the start of his career as an architect. Palatia got him the Emperor’s attention but Arora cemented his reputation. Jungkook fiddles with his badge.

“How comes you’re at Urban Planning, hyung?” Jungkook asked rather boldly. Yoongi couldn’t school his surprised expression as Namjoon pressed his lips together in a line.

It was then that Yoongi felt the fatigue that visited him almost daily. In the spacious home he had built for you and himself, he tosses and turns, restless at the face of his ambition to sleep. The moonlight broke on the surface of his bed, he lays awake confronting the ghosts of the past. Memories of a life he’d rather forget.

“I needed a change in scenery.”

Jungkook’s mouth twists, clearly dissatisfied with Yoongi’s answer. He couldn’t blame the younger man. Architecture was a profession that had longevity and along with it, came respect. To build something out of nothing was an art and the cities that Yoongi built were incredible, if not ethereal.

But he couldn’t seem to identify with those creations anymore. Not when he couldn’t even remember the reason whyhe started.

Namjoon ushers Jungkook away politely, bowing to Yoongi in apology. On his desk were the blueprints of Palatia and Arora that Namjoon must have retrieved from the archives. The lines were strong and deliberate, each shape and drawing were all measured according to Yoongi’s vision. He traced the parchment, preserved dutifully under the lamination. Somewhere, those cities were thriving in peace. He could hear you so clearly in front of these blueprints.

Thank you for bringing Arora to life, Yoongi.

Yoongi built these cities when he was happier; when times were simpler and smiling didn’t seem like a chore.

He misses that more than he cared to admit.

It’s a few days before Yoongi has to resume classes for the final year.

Living at home reminded him that he was in the peripheries Galtea. A city that ignored the cracks in its veneer. There are those that live among him that do not lie awake at night, wondering if their temporary homes would be raided because they don’t have the right papers. And, like him, there are those who live wondering whether they’ll even had a meal to tide them over the next day.

“Get as much as you can with these.”

Yoongi’s father extends three dog-eared food stamps, his hand shaking slightly.

The sun scorched the fields to the point of drought and the clouds offered no mercy in the form of rain. The city is starving and its people are too. Yoongi delicately folds them and slips them in his pocket. For every meal he can scrimmage together, there is something unspoken that rings louder when the shadows extend as the night covers the city. The prospect of war seemed so far away months ago, yet Galtea and its people know that its walls weren’t strong enough to keep the sharp prongs of invasion at bay. News came from the harbour a few days back: The Emperor seeks more land to conquer.

“I’ll try, but there’s shortages right now,” he said, unable to look at his father in the eye.

They were a humble farming family and his father bore the brunt of the scarcity. It showed up in his gaunt frame and the bones are visible through his paper-thin skin. Yoongi noted his own sallow complexion as he passed his reflection earlier, but it was incomparable. His father was always a ghastly shade of grey, and each time he looked at his family, it was with red-rimmed eyes that couldn’t be remedied with a smile from his chapped lips.

Yoongi knew that no matter how much food he brought home, his father wouldn’t eat. He had two other siblings and his mother was pregnant. Things were dire and helpless.

“I know, but still try. I want you to be able to eat so you can be strong. Your exams are soon.”

Yoongi also knew that his father might not see him graduate.

“I’ll try.”

While waiting in line, Yoongi sees you slip three apples in your pocket, right under the vendor’s nose.

This was the first time he saw you above ground. Under the blazing sun, your hair was plain, and you moved quickly, like you had a destination in mind. His brows pinched together, the food stamps he was clutching in his pocket weighed heavy in his hand. You weave past others who were too busy with their own hunger to notice.

“You shouldn’t be stealing,” he said, right as you passed by. You stopped walking, looking at him up and down.

“Those won’t get you anything.”

Yoongi was about to ask but he realises that you were staring at his pocket. The line moves incrementally and before you could escape, he grabs you by your elbow. You stumble back, startled by the contact.

“There’s a vendor in the next street who sells pastries and other cakes,” he divulged, unsure why he was so open.

“Those are harder to slip into my pocket,” you replied, tugging your arm with force.

In response, Yoongi grips you harder, almost dragging you forward as the line shortens. You sighed audibly, eyes darting to the side. He feels his reserve wane not knowing if he’d have time to go to the club now that exams were approaching. A part of him is curious as to why you hadn’t fled yet.

“If you wait for me, I could show you.”

“I don’t have any money for pastries or cakes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

At that, he doesn’t feel you resist him as much.

“Why?”

“Because he’s a gimp and is partially blind.”

A smile spreads your lips wide, bursting into a quiet laugh. Then, he hears you introduce yourself, which prompts him to do the same.

“I’m Yoongi.”

You extend your free hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

The wait wasn’t long and unlike your estimation, Yoongi was able to get something that could feed his family for at least three days.

Overhead, sirens blared and you hurried to the direction of the next street. The conversation was endless. He learned that you were an orphan but were too old to be adopted. The club was your main gig, but the pay was meagre given that you were technically underaged. He realised that you were as desperate as him, which didn’t invite shame, rather he was able to be himself. It was nice to show that life was hard, to share this perspective with someone who knows what it’s like at the peripheries.

“You’re studying?”

Yoongi finishes the pastry and swallows thickly. You were looking at the lanyard he was wearing.

Galtea School of Architecture.

“Yeah. I’ll graduate next year, if there isn’t a war.”

You puffed out your cheeks, eyebrows raising in response.

“Never met anyone who got past elementary school,” you said, leaning on your arms.

“I want to build cities, I want to make a difference in people’s lives,” he said, sheepish in his admission but liked that you listened nonetheless. It feels like he could be himself, without reservations. Feelings like that, he wanted to hold on to as much as possible. You smiled at him with a certain fondness that he never saw in all the time he’s observed you.

“I’m sure you’ll be great. Remember me when you make it, okay?”

Yoongi thinks he could never forget you but he agrees anyway.

Jungkook was unsure as he fiddled with the adjustments on the draft table. It suddenly flips upwards, like a whiplash. He jumps back, startled, his hands flying up as if he was arrested. Yoongi smiled, recalling his own experiences. Their colleagues notice but pay them no mind.

“I thought that this was how you were meant to place it,” the younger one said, his cheeks colouring a light pink.

Yoongi shook his head, reaching down to press a button, hidden in the bolts. The hydraulic mechanism hissed and the table descends without complaint.

“They don’t reveal this during the orientation, I had a senior teach me the same thing.”

Jungkook nods, searching for the button himself. Yoongi looks on, paying attention to a part of him that misses his old job. He wonders what kind of cities that Jungkook would build one day.

“Thanks hyung.”

“Do you think the Emperor will spare Galtea?”

It was a question that you would occasionally ask Yoongi while you sat atop a grassy hill. Friendship seemed to thrive between you while war was right at your doorstep. The papers were riddled with articles heralding that, mainly to announce that the Emperor advances, day by day.

From your vantage point, you could see how Galtea was organised in factions. The further away from the centre, the more impoverished you were. You and Yoongi resided on the penultimate faction, nearer to the fields. Although limited, it was still a pocket of civilisation.

“I’ve heard that the Emperor is merciful,” Yoongi replied.

He offers you part of an apple that he’s carved into quarters.

“I wish I could afford to travel. I’d go as far away from here as possible, somewhere where I can start over and not have to work shitty jobs just to make ends meet.”

Yoongi thinks that it doesn’t matter where you go, poverty didn’t care who you were and unless you were born with money-ladened pockets from your ancestry, you were a nobody. While you talked aimlessly, he thinks of his parents, salt of the earth, already in their late sixties and unable to retire or even feed their children a full meal. They have never crossed the walls of Galtea not by choice but because they couldn’t afford to.

All of this, Yoongi keeps to himself.

“Maybe one day. I had some friends say that the lands in the West are warm and their soldiers are strong. The Emperor hasn’t been able to conquer those lands yet.”

You crunch on the apple pieces audibly, sniffing as the breeze picked up.

“I think I’d want to visit the city, go to the theatre once, then take a stroll along the bridge, you know the one by the Town Hall?”

Yoongi knows the one. Galtea had many places of interest but the bridge was consistently flocked to by visitors from the city and throughout. It was a simple design, the highest point allowing for a perfect central view of the multi-coloured houses that flanked the river. Yoongi had been there once on a field trip during his first year.

“Sounds like the perfect day, maybe throw in a dinner by the river,” he replied, mirroring your grin.

“One day,” you said.

“Yeah, one day.”

next.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fic #min yoongi series #suga x reader #bts fanfiction #bts series #min yoongi x you

Tue, 18 Jan 2022 20:49:20

Russet. (m) | ONE-SHOT | MIN YOONGI, 3.1k

Pairing: Reader x Yoongi

Summary:He liked to take his time with you in moments like these. Something about getting back on stage. Something about being back in his element. Something about the roar of the crowd, a tangible, real moment where he was no longer performing in front of numbers at the top left corner or an LED screen.

Warnings/Tags: RATED M (18+) for language, smut (fem-reader; unprotected sex; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; doggy; finger-sucking; slight cock warming; everything that comes with post-concert high tbh lmao); Fluff; idol!AU established relationship :’)

=====

He liked to take his time with you in moments like these.

Something about getting back on stage.

Something about being back in his element.

Something about the roar of the crowd, a tangible, real moment where he was no longer performing in front of numbers at the top left corner or an LED screen.

The euphoric feeling doesn’t get left on the stage. It lingers, draping over his body, making it thrum as if he was possessed by something.

You fed off his own post-concert high, tethered to an energy, this emotion that’s bigger than him.

The lights that bordered the headboard were turned low and you shiver on the grey sheets, the strength of your arms giving out while Yoongi keeps a firm grip on your hips. Breathy gasps against the fibres of the bed cover, so soft but that didn’t matter, your skin will come up raw and tender from the pressure of his body against yours.

You didn’t know how it escalated from lazy kisses right after the shower. Then again, you always lost yourself when you were in his arms.

“Y-yoongi…” you gasped as he yanks you back harshly on his cock, the dull slap of his hips against the flesh of your ass ending in a resounding slap.You were so wet, taking his cock in an easy, frictionless suck. From the upstroke, his cock comes away in sticky strings that cool due to the ventilation that circulated the room.

“Mn?”

It would be different each time. Tonight however, his hum was an acute sound, prompting your body to tighten, sticking you in an endless loop of pleasure, as if every question you asked him was rhetorical. He surges forward, pushing the breath you’d been holding in out, heating up the bed with the blaze of your desire. Desperate for anything and tired of being edged, you fist the white cotton in front of you, eyes shutting to cloak the dull colours of the hotel as his thrusts slowed to a drag.

Yoongi’s warm breath is on your skin, followed by the subtle scrape of his teeth on your shoulder blade. You tremble from the sharp feeling, whimpering as he nipped then laved over the marks with a swipe of his tongue. You feel him lean forward and moan at the angle, your pussy clamping around his length as he buried himself to the hilt. His open mouth sets on a space on your back, his deep voice turning into a heavy grunt as your legs continued to shake, pussy clenching over his length in an effort to keep him inside, lower back aching and arched, mindlessly fucking his cock as he stilled.

“Ahn, fuck,” you whimpered, knees sliding apart, sweat causing your skin to slip over his, ignoring the clumsy rhythm of your hips as you fucked yourself on his cock in an attempt to catch your release.

That’s when he forces you upright, a breathy moan escaping past your lips while his hand presses lightly over your throat. Through the haze of your vision, you see what’s immediately ahead. The hotel decor, which took up much of the wall, showcased a bright and sunny scene.

Clear skies. 72 degrees. Prepare for landing.

Inoffensive words in neat, legible font, complete with a backdrop of a beach occupied by scattered crowds.

Hardly the best view, given your current situation.

Yoongi cants his hips, incites shallow thrusts that had you breathing out lowly through your nose, practically vibrating. Then, you feel his hand creep up, long fingers articulating themselves until something presses against your bottom lip. Slick with your shared spit, he continues to prod the curved pad of his thumb, rubbing softly, sensitising your lips. You open your mouth, ignoring the angular chain of the bracelet he had trouble taking off, letting it emboss your chin. He inhales sharply as you wiped your tongue over the digit, suckling slightly, as much as you were allowed.

“What do you want, hm?”

It’s whispered so softly, his lips by the shell of your ear, kissing it lightly. You make an impatient noise, you wanted to see him, leaning your head back, away from his hand.

“W-wanna see you,” you breathed, almost falling forward if not for his arm strapped around your middle.

Gently, Yoongi pulls away and you slump forward, weak arms pushing so you could lay on your back, the backs of your thighs held down by his capable hands. You take a moment to appreciate him.

Dewy skin flushed in rose, broad shoulders, strong arms, and a faint smattering of dark hair that trailed down his abdomen. His hair was longer and a light russet, falling over his brow in soft tufts. Silver hoops and dark brown eyes, handsome as ever. He took the image of you in, a subtle, upward tug from the corner of his lip appearing despite his breathing being exaggerated, his hard cock glimmers from your shared arousal.

As soon as he lowered himself, your legs widen, allowing him to nestle himself in between. His hand cradles your face, the cold metal chain on his wrist made warm from your skin, your lips closing over his thumb in a slow suck. The feel of his cock slipping inside you prompted a moan, mouth opening even more, your eyes never once wavering from his as you grasped his wrist. He matches the thrust of his thumb with that of his cock, pressing on your tongue, coating it with your spit as your eyes flutter close.

“Ahssss,” he hissed, you sighed, your tongue swiping along the digit in a slick drag. He thrusts especially deep, your legs raising to accommodate.

You whined, a silent signal for more.

Just a little more.

And he understands, breath hitching as he pushed his thumb until you could feel it near the back of your throat, the cold silver of his bracelet thudding against your chin, your nails digging on the delicate skin of the inside of his forearm. Your throat closes up on instinct, eyes watering suddenly. After a few more shallow thrusts, the pad making a dent on your tongue, he slips it out, caressing your bottom lip, smearing spit over it.

“Good?” He asked, albeit through gritted teeth as you jerked from how he began to thrust more forcefully in your pussy, the gush of wetness of your folds easing the friction.

“Mnh, yeah,” you said, breathless.

And he sinks his cock further, deeper, deeper till you gripped his biceps, exchanging stifled moans, your nails coming down harder due to the stretch and the new angle. He takes your jaw in a solid grip, and you look straight into his eyes while he bottomed out again, fucking you in a steady, unwavering rhythm. The air grew hotter, sweat erupting from the relentless rocking of your bodies, the way his hard planes rubbed against your clit, his cock thrusting inside you in slow, deep strokes.

“Ah, fuck,” you moaned, your hand reaching up to tangle in those copper strands, pulling towards you, eradicating any distance despite it being cramped. Yoongi kisses you with fervour until you’re both panting in each other’s mouths, hurtling towards that peak. Sweat coats your skin, your hair sticks to your forehead, your temples, he moans in your mouth as your pussy pulsed over his cock, the audible schlickat each retreat making you tremble. You open your eyes, press your head back onto the firm mattress, watch as his jaw goes slack, his gaze boring into yours, brown pools alight with hunger as he fucked you harder in sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts.

“Ssssah,” he rasped, followed by a low moan, his features contracting in effort as you tipped your hips down, entire body tightening. At a particularly harsh thrust, you cried out, slapping your hand against his lower stomach, legs trying to snap shut, unable to comprehend the surge in pleasure each time his cock shoved itself inside your pussy. He leans forward, tugs your bottom lip with his teeth, your name in his deep voice, russet strands and pale skin in your vision.

“Y-yoongi, fuck… ah,shit,” you babbled, arching up, trying to cross your legs over his back, failing miserably. He winds a hand back, circles it over your calf, skating his broad palm down till it slots at the back of your knee, spreading you so wide that you gasped, shuddering as he ground his hips in a tight circle.

“Hgnh,fuck!”

He hummed, ending in a low growl as your pussy contracted around his cock, as tight and as wet as ever, so much so that he slipped out. Your hand shoots forward, heart in an erratic rhythm as you guided him back in your wet heat, gasping into the kiss as he groaned.

“Fuck, ah, fuck,” he grunted, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin, his cock piercing your velvet walls, mind clouding over until the only sound you register is the carnal gasp of your name on his lips.

“Yoongi,” you moaned, barely able to move while held down, but you wind your arms around his neck, catch the lobe of his ear, teeth clashing against the silver metal hoop.

“Fuck -“

You feel another gush of wetness spill past your folds, gooey slick that renders everything pliant, easing the stretch of his cock inside you. Yoongi just knew where to touch you and tease you, he knew how his deep voice affected you and he used all of this to render you into a pleasure-riddle stupor, clawing at him as you approached that blinding peak. You clenched around him, managing a choked moan through gritted teeth as you soared, encouraged by his praise, So good for me, so fucking tight, taking all of me, ah fuck.

And you were sure that he felt it, the way your pussy pulsed over him, closer and closer that you tighten your grip over him, tits crushed against his firm chest, his hand gripping your thigh so hard, that your limbs felt static.

“Ahshit, don’t stop,” you whimpered, loud enough to register that your words were slurred. His hips go faster, circling at the instroke. Your vision sparks, your moans muffled against his skin, shivering at the weight of him while he cups your ass to gain momentum, fucking into you in forceful thrusts until you were practically sobbing from the sheer pleasure of it all. He clutches at the flesh of your ass, finger digging and denting skin, leaving you no choice but to take it, drunk on ecstasy. He licks a flithy stripe from your jaw, his tongue slipping your mouth in a swift movement, wet lips on your own, his hand clasping your chin as he sucked your tongue.

“Mmpfh -“

When he parts from you, his skin is flushed, a light sheen of sweat trails over his pale skin, bottom lip curled only to unfurl to bare his teeth.

“Want to get filled up?” He panted, tongue resting at the corner of his mouth, his hips moving but not fast enough, fucking his cock into your pussy before withdrawing it to the tip, nudging the stiff nub of your clit.

“Hgnh, Yoongi, yes, yes,” you begged, pushing towards him, letting out a frustrated moan until he pitches forward, smacking his hard muscles against yours.

Something catches at your gut, like hot coals that exploded, searing your veins. Barely coherent, you make a grab for him, breath fanning against the crook of his neck, fingers yanking at the copper strands near the nape, shaking from the roughened thrusts. The subtle clinkof his jewellery, the way he tugs at your hair at the root, you gasp into his mouth, seeing fragments of his rosy skin, russet strands, hear the sound of his low grunt as you came in the messiest way, an almost endless, sticky drip that coated his cock in a plentiful gush, words escaping in the same manner as your thoughts dissolved. Yoongi let out a loud moan, rutting his hips in shallow, purposeful thrusts as you whimpered, searching for him, for a soft kiss, which he gave, grabbing the flesh of your thighs, kneading it as he hummed.

“Shit,” you said, breathless, melting in his arms as he set a steady pace again, this time parting from you and grasping your hips, lifting them from the bed. Your breath hitched as he dragged you back on his cock, your throbbing pussy still sensitive against any immediate impact but Yoongi was relentless. You arch up, throwing your head back and playing with your nipples, cupping your tits in a pathetic knead, anything to stay in your orgasm, legs just about flailing as he fucked you, his muscles strained, the lines on his abdomen defined, jaw set as his grunts pierced the sex-stained air. He lifts you high enough that what’s left touching the bed is your shoulder blades, your back in a pronounced curve, thighs ending in a fleshy smack each time he filled you to the hilt.

“Ah…ah,” you cried out, his broad palms squeezing your flesh, skin thudding against skin, nasty, wet sounds matching the gooey drip where you connected. Through the flutter of your lashes, you see the copper strands of hair stuck to his temples, the twitch in his features as you were both stripped back to the basest of desires.

As strange as it was at first to reconcile the fact that someone as warm, gentle, and trustworthy as Yoongi could become someone as carnal as the person he was in this moment, it wasn’t lost on you that he always had this simmering intensity. Sometimes, the realisation sprang up on you without much warning, like when you would brush past and he’d clasp your wrist in a possessive grip. Or when he would flip you over, pressing you up against the wall or any other flat surface, up till you were on your tip toes with your calves straining, or bent over in an obscene angle. The effect was the same: you were putty in his hands, body trembling from the harsh, deep stroke of his cock inside you.

“Ah…ssss,ah,” he pants, alternating it with sharp hisses as your pussy tightened around him intermittently. You feel another wave coming, another reverberation of acute pressure, already past the point of containment as you sense a sound building in his chest. After a few, rough thrusts, you come apart again, wailing uncontrollably, sticky hot gush over his pulsing cock, sweat intermingling with arousal, the smack of your hand against his thigh ringing as a sharp crack in the air. You whined, your swollen clit catching the base of his cock, helpless as Yoongi carried on, so you cupped your tits, pinching your nipples to maximise the sparks that burst everywhere, legs aching even if you were solely being held up by his sheer strength.

“Gonna cum,” he grunts, his fingers sinking over your flesh, nails impressing grooves for grip.

“I-inside,” you gasped, “please.”

And his jaw juts out in order for that final, ragged breath, a sudden burst of sound, pushing you onto the bed as your hips locked. Your moan comes out choked, watching Yoongi as he came, a long, drawn out ah,trembling in the delivery as he fell apart in acute, desperate relief. Hot spurts of his cum fill you up while pinned to the bed, immobilised for him, whimpering as he rode it out, thrusting his cock in and pushing his cum out, having it drip down your ass, staining the sheets.

You shiver as Yoongi kisses the side of your face as your pussy convulsed greedily, aided by the rapid contraction of your inner muscles, mind high and satiated. He props himself up and you’re rewarded with the image of a deep rose flush high on his cheeks, lips shiny with saliva, eyes shockingly dark yet glazed over, bright russet hair matted and messy.

“‘Mmh, Yoongi,” you panted, he pushes your hair away from your face, groaning as you shivered, the tremor making its way all the way down.

“Mh?”

You don’t even know why you said his name, the objective of that inquiry lost in the soft glaze of his eyes and the proximity you shared in the afterglow.

“‘Mm fuck,” you whispered, tucking your head under his chin, aware of the mess between your thighs. He reaches down, thumbing your clit lazily, spurring that whine that was waiting at the back of your throat. His cock twitches suddenly, and he dips his forehead over yours, a moan filtering past his lips, hips stuttering up and into you before stilling once more, rivulets of cum dripping lewdly onto the sheets.

You stay like that for a while, catching your breath at the comedown, your pussy slowing in its flex, calming in a drowsy pulse. Yoongi kisses you, catching the spool of your thoughts, chapped yet soft lips, so him, so Yoongi.You do so until you’re practically exchanging air, panting against each other once more.

Reality settles back in, the fuzzy details of the room come back in view. The shimmering expanse of Los Angeles outside with its surrounding buildings on the flat plane. The linen set in the velvet curtains hints at the square windows glowing neon white against the pitch black night.

“Mm, good,” you murmured after a while, your eyelids heavy, going lax on the firm mattress.

“Good,” Yoongi echoed, nudging his nose against yours, gingerly pulling out. You shivered, blinking up at him as he does his best to clean you both, his hair appearing auburn in the dim light, his features blissed out, all kinds of soft. You lean close, kissing his nose.

“Missed you,” you yawned, after things settled and you’re back in his arms.

“Was gone for three hours at most,” he whispered, though there was a distinct tone in his voice, indicative of the comfortable warmth you both shared. An unspoken reassurance that despite Yoongi being at the world’s stage, you can have this piece of him that no one else did, and that he let you. Being apart seemed more palpable these days, more apparent in the prospect of life restarting again. You nuzzle yourself against him, preceding to run your touch along his arm, searching for his hand beneath the sheets. Once your fingers are slotted together, your palms meet in an even pressure.

“Are you hungry? We can order some room service -”

“Later. We can sleep for now,” you said, squeezing his hand as he presses a kiss to your hair.

Yoongi assents, comfortable in the silence with you, then -

“Love you.”

You grinned, “love you too.”

He rubs his nose against yours, sappy as he is, his grin is as wide as the one on your face.

“Love you so much.”

You lean in for a kiss.

“Yeah, yeah.”

#yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts one shot #yoongi one shot #min yoongi one shot #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts fluff

Tue, 11 Jan 2022 16:49:58

Oh baby

@rosquilleta @bunnyrhe @raineandskye

Idol husband yoongi x pregnant wife reader!

Summary: attending an award show with your husband is fun and all until the baby in your belly starts squeezing your bladder and you need to pee in the middle of an interview

Genre: fluff, fluff and fluff!

Warnings: a little cursing because you need to pee and people are clicking photos, you’re 7 and a half month pregnant and yoongi’s buff and so in love with you. Husband yoongi is a big warning itself.

A/n: hello hello I’m not dead

Author’s pov:

“And the song of the year award goes to…” you looked at the host with big eyes all the while holding your husband yoongi’s hand tightly and his other hand which was holding you, squeezed your shoulder gently out of nervousness “Min yoongi! Or we can say producer suga!” You squealed and got up immediately, well atleast tried to do so but it was a little hard with your belly in the way but yoongi held you up and pressed his lips on yours in a deep kiss causing you to blush and giggle against his lips as the camera zoomed in on both of you.

Pulling back he leaned his head against yours, smiling widely that matched your bright smile and you whispered “I’m so proud of you” he nodded closing his eyes and kissed your forehead before pulling back and you smiled as the other members also pulled him in a group hug before he walked up to the stag while buttoning his suit jacket. You sat back on your seat with a little help from jimin and smiled staring at your husband who was emitting a powerful and confident aura while standing on the stage.

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Yoongi smiled pulling you close to him with his strong arm wrapped around your waist and caressing your belly softly and his other hand holding the award. You smiled leaning against his shoulder feeling a little dizzy with so many cameras flashing but with his arm wrapped around you tightly, it was a little better. Placing a soft hand on your belly you smiled when a female photographer complemented you and bowed a little while yoongi smirked kissing the side of your head.

As yoongi was answering the questions by the interviewers, your smiled flattered a little feeling the sudden strong urge to pee. You’ve been holding it quite well the whole night because you don’t like going to public bathrooms but now it seemed like the baby was having none of it and started squeezing the life out of your bladder. You didn’t even drink that much just so you wouldn’t have to pee but the baby loves teasing you and decided that it was the right time to sit on your bladder.

As much as you tried to control it, a squeak almost left your lips when a sudden cramp hit you and the urge grew stronger so tugging his suit jacket you forced a smile with all the cameras clicking when he turned his head to face you with a soft smile which immediately disappeared when he noticed the look on your face “what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” He mumbled looking at you worriedly and you shaked your head squeezing his hand which was on your belly “i need to pee” you whispered and his eyes widened slightly before he cursed under his breath “fuck is it urgent?” He mumbled rubbing your side gently and you nodded hastily “very. Please” you whispered with pleading eyes and yoongi kissed your forehead nodding.

He looked at the bodyguard besides him and whispered something to which the bodyguard nodded and said something in his ear piece and a second later you saw all the bodyguards around you form a circle to guide you both out of the ocean of reporters who immediately started rushing and following you both . Yoongi covered you with his body and held you tightly all the while until you both reached your car and he helped you sit inside before sitting too. “Yoongi fast” you whined squeezing your legs tightly and he nodded looking at you apologetically “let’s go. Drive fast but carefully” he told the driver who nodded and started the car.

During the whole ride you were squeezing the life out of yoongi’s hand who groaned slightly but still let you do anything you want and you almost kicked the door open when the driver pulled up at your house and got off before waddling towards the front door as fast as you can with yoongi running behind you. Punching in the pin when the finger print was taking too long, you almost stumbled while trying to run on the smooth tiles with your heels on. Crouching down, he took your platform heels off quickly when you tried to run to the bathroom with them and you placed your hand on his head to support yourself whining “yoongi hurry up! i can’t hold it anymore” “okay okay there you go. Don’t run!” He said when you took off holding your belly and slammed the bathroom door shut.

He chuckled shaking his head and ruffled his already ruffled hair and stood up hearing you babbling incoherent words of relief and took out one of his t shirt for you to wear. A few moments later You came out of the bathroom with a satisfied smile while rubbing your belly to see him shirtless and waddled towards him to burry your face in his hard chest causing him to chuckle fondly and hold you tightly. “Are you feeling good?” He mumbled pressing kisses on your head and you nodded sighing in relief as he unzipped your tight dress “so good” you whispered kissing his neck. Humming he took your dress off completely and unclipped your bra causing you to shiver slightly while he helped you wear his shirt.

You hugged him again causing him to laugh and you kissed him saying “you did so great. We are so proud of you” he hummed holding the back of your neck to deepen the kiss “really?” “Yes” “thank you baby” you giggled and bite his bottom lip gently while he made you sit on the bed. He groaned saying “don’t get me started babygirl. I won’t be able to control myself later” you pouted but still nodded while he smirked went to get your makeup wipes. Coming back he crouched down and cleaned your face gently while you smiled when the baby kicked. Throwing the dirty wipes he came back and helped you lay down gently before laying down besides you and pulled you close to him.

You sighed happily and buried your face in his neck mumbling “tell your kids not to squeeze my bladder when they are so many people around us” his chest rumbled with a deep chuckle and he nodded rubbing your stomach gently “I’ll tell them tomorrow when they wake up. Now go to sleep babygirl” your eyes were closed and soft snores were coming out when he looked at you causing him to smile to himself. He kissed your belly before kissing your head and closed his eyes holding his world close to him.

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The next day’s headline was a photo of you and yoongi whispering to each other with a Caption of “the sweetest couple of all the time” with everyone thinking that you both were smiling and whispering your love but only you and yoongi knows what you were actually talking out.

“I love you baby” “we love you too yoon”

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Tue, 07 Jun 2022 14:27:32

11:50 pm

@bunnyrhe @rosquilleta @raineandskye

“O-oh yoongi!” You whined as his pace increased and his cock brushed against that sweet spot causing your eyes to roll back. Yoongi growled hearing you moaning and screaming his name and grunted “fuck babygirl you take me so well, my good little girl” and wrapped his lips around your perky and hardened nipple causing you to whimper as your fingers played with his hair “y-yours” he groaned when you clenched around him tightly and smashed his lips on yours to pull you in a rough kiss which had you gasping for air as he sucked and bite your bottom lip until it was red and swollen “i-i love you yoongi ” you cried out as another wave of pleasure hit your body and he pounded inside you harder with his forehead leaned against yours as he panted and moaned your name “fuck i love you too babygirl, i love you so fucking much” he groaned and you leaned up slightly to kiss him but your attention was diverted when you suddenly heard a phone, or specifically his phone ringing “y-yoongi-” you tried to tell him but he cursed and placed his lips on yours in a passionate kiss with his hand going down in between your bodies to rub your clit which had you moaning his name loudly. As much as you tried to ignore the continues ringing, it didn’t stop budging at the back of your mind. so you pulled back panting and whimpered out “y-your phone oh- yoongi your p-phone” kissing your forehead softly, which was completely different from the way he was pounding inside you, he grunted “ doesn’t matter. Ignore it and look at me kitten” you whimpered at his dominating voice and looked at him with dazed eyes with your ckeeks flushed whispering “I-I’m close” gripping your hips tightly he groaned “i know baby, come for me” against your ear you gasped with your mouth hanging open and a scream of his name escaped your lips as your second orgasm washed over you with your hands grippingjis biceps tightly. A deep growl left his lips seeing you milking his cock with his name leaving your lips like a chant and he rubbed harsh circles on your clit to ride you out of your orgasm groaning feeling his own high approaching “fuck-where do you want me baby” “i-inside me” you whimpered laying on the bed boneless as he groaned hearing your words. He breathed harshly and small groans of your name spilled from his lips as he came right after you and you whimpered feeling his thick load of cum filling you up to the brim. Breathing heavily as his balls completely emptied he collapsed besides you and pulled you closer and you snuggled in his chest yawning and wrapped your arms around his torso. He chuckled fondly mumbling “i love you babygirl ” as you nestled against him comfortably and his arms around you tighten when you whispered “i love you yoon” kissing your head he groaned when the moment was interrupted by his phone ringing again “fucking assholes” you giggled softly as he mumbled profanities and said “it might be important, you should pick it up” already closing your eyes “not more important than you” he murmured kissing your neck and took his phone switching it off without seeing the missed calls and throwed it behind him on the bed. Sighing tiredly he kissed your head as soft snores and little puff of air left your lips and his eyes fluttered shut when you snuggled in his neck causing him to hold you protectively.

Of course he would make sure that people won’t fuck with his money anymore but that can wait for tomorrow. Tonight was just about you, his beautiful girlfriend . His whole world.

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Tue, 10 May 2022 11:47:13

Ours

@bunnyrhe @rosquilleta @raineandskye

Alter ego Gang leader yoongi x reader

■ summary: you’re theirs. And they won’t ever allow anyone to take or hurt what belongs to them.

■ Genre: fluff, angst

■ warning: blood, gun, mentions of murder, reader almost gets kidnapped, yoongi’s a gang leader, a few kisses here and there, he loves grabbing your butt, established relationship, yoongi has an alter ego, reader almost gets killed too, possessive yoongi and his alter ego, implied smut.

Author’s pov

You giggled as holly licked your face while you were tying his leash,well atleast you were trying to do so because the large dog kept trying to sit on your lap not understanding that he is too big to do that. The brown rottweiler looked at you happily while wagging his tail as you were successfully able to put his leash on and patted his head huffing as he licked your hand too. “You got me covered in your drool holly” you said putting on your shoes before wiping your face with wet wipes and looked at him again “okay let’s go” you mumbled taking his leash and your little bag which contained your phone and wallet and some treats for your baby. Locking the door you started walking towards your destination which was your boyfriend’s office. You know you shouldn’t be walking there because it would be much safer if you took your car but today you decided to give the poor driver a day off and besides just as yoongi had told you to take holly with you everywhere, you were doing so.

“It’s a nice day for a walk isn’t it?” You cooed to the dog softly as he walked besides you on alert only looking at you for a moment before looking at his surroundings again. Yoongi had brought him for you when he found himself falling in love with you. He never thought that would be getting in a serious relationship when he started seeing you. He thought that it’s just a distraction and it will be over soon but he found himself falling for you harder when you accepted both him and his alter ego. Never did he dared to dream that you will accept him for who he was. He didn’t wanted to get his hopes high and get hurt later on. But you proved him wrong when you just hugged him tightly in your warm embrace and whispered “i will always love you yoongi. No matter what. And if i love you then I’ll learn to love your other half too” he remembers how his eyes got misty and his voice thick with emotions as he hugged you back tightly. That was the first time you both said ‘i love you’.Since that day, both him, and his alter ego did everything in their power to keep you safe. He can say that his alter ego is possessive of you just like he is and they both loves you more than anything even though it took a little time for his alter ego to open up with you because he has always found it hard to trust anyone besides yoongi. But eventually, you managed to coax him out of his shell with your love. And about holly, well he was supposed to be a strong guard dog and he is, but you pamper him all day and make him wear different colorful clothes. He bets even holly must be embarrassed to walk down the street in a pink onesie.

You smiled looking at a little girl laughing while running in the park but soon your attention was taken by holly who suddenly stopped and looked back from where you came from with his tail standing straight in alert “hey what’s wrong holly?” You asked looking behind you aswell but you were met with nothing other than a few people walking but it wasn’t anything suspicious. Maybe holly is just paranoid because he has always been protective of you. “It’s nothing let’s go” you said lightly tugging on his leash but your eyebrows furrowed when he didn’t budge instead growled lowly which scared a couple who were walking past you. You gave them an apologetic smile and bowed slightly then looked at holly again who was still trying to go there but you stood in front of him and snapped your fingers gaining his attention “okay holly now stop. There’s no one there. C'mon” you said started to walk ahead and holly reluctantly followed behind you. As you both walked, you frowned noticing holly’s attention was still behind you both but you shrugged it off and smiled as you reached your destination.

Entering inside the building with holly on your tail you pushed the elevator’s button and shifted your weight from one leg to another while waiting for the elevator. “Y/n?” Hearing a familiar voice you looked to your right and a smile creeped on your face when you saw your boyfriend’s trusted man and bestfriend Namjoom standing there. But your smile dropped slightly when you saw his expression. He looked worried. “Hey joon” Namjoon looked down at you with a small smile and patted your back before stroking holly’s head “hey y/n. What’re you doing here?” “Nothing just came to meet yoongi” you smiled seeing holly licking namjoon’s hand as the elevator door opened. He suddenly looked a little hesitant making you worried “what’s wrong? Is yoongi alright? ” you asked immediately thinking of the worst scenario but joon was quick to calm you as he shaked his head and mumbled “don’t worry he’s fine. He’s just a little mad and he’s probably not yoongi right now but I’m not sure because he kicked me out” you relaxed and nodded starting to get in the elevator but namjoon stopped you “wait. Let me take holly with me.” You nodded giving him holly’s leash and crouched down to smack a kiss on the dog’s head “I’ll be back soon sweetie” you whispered smiling softly and waved at namjoon who nodded and watched as the door closed.

You signed and leaned against the cold wall watching the numbers changing to higher ones. What would have made him so angry for his alter ego to come out? And why didn’t he called you? He usually calls you whenever he gets too much stressed. You were snapped back to reality as the doors opened and you walked out bowing towards some men who bowed towards you. Everyone in this building knows you as their boss’s girlfriend so it’s no secret that they all respect you. Reaching outside his office you knocked on the door softly not hearing any reply which caused you to sigh so you knocked a little harder. A smile reaching your face when you heard his deep voice “stop bothering me namjoon amd piss off” “it’s me” you said softly and a moment later, the door was ripped open only for a second to pull you in before it was slammed shut and you were pinned against the door with his lips on yours and his hands gripping your hips tightly. You whispered his name against his lips, cupping his face and caressed his cheek softly as your lips moved against his smoothly “agust” He kissed you harder for a second before pulling back breathing heavily and leaned his head against yours “what are you doing here? Did you came alone?” Pushing the hair falling on his forehead back you stood on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead feeling him sighing tiredly and relaxing under your touch “no i didn’t came alone. Holly is with joon and i just wanted to see you. Am i disturbing you?” You asked looking at him with big eyes and he smirked squeezing your butt earning a soft giggle from you . Wrapping his arms around your waist he hoisted you up in the air effortlessly causing you to wrap your legs around his waist and he started walked towards his desk all the while you were peppering his face with kisses.

Sitting on his chair with you on his lap you caressed his hair as he leaned back looking at you with soft eyes that contained his love for you. “No you aren’t. Needed you” he breathed out as you lightly touched the scar doing under his right eye. “What happened?” You whispered shivering slightly because of the low temperature in the room and he shaked his head increasing the temperature and pulling you closer “nothing kitten” he mumbled pulling you closer with the back of your neck and crushed his lips on yours making you whimper gently. His tongue immediately dominated yours and you supported yourself by placing your hands on his chest and he groaned sucking your bottom lip before biting the supple flesh. Carding your fingers through his soft hair he growled when you tugged them lightly and pulled you impossibly closer with his hand going inside your oversized hoodie caressing your bare skin. You gasped and whimpered his name softly as he relieved all the stress that has built up. “Are you okay?” You gasped out as he kissed you roughly and growled running his tattooed hand over your back “missed you” he murmured pulling back breathing heavily and you leaned against his chest trying to catch some breath “is yoongi okay?” You whispered looking at him with worried eyes. Worried for both him and his other half which caused his eyes to go soft “yes babygirl we’re fine. Just some petty fuckers trying to take what’s ours” you looked at him with confusion as he placed his suit around you noticing the goosebumps on your arms “what do you mean?” He shaked his head kissing your forehead “don’t think about it.” “Agust” he sighed and looked at you with soft eyes and you perked up realising yoongi was back “yoongi?” He hummed pulling you close when he felt you sliding down and wrapped his arms around your waist “what was agust talking about?” You asked with narrowed eyes and he sighed mumbling “that idiot” “tell me” you whined squeezing his cheeks causing him to groan “is everything okay?” “Yes baby everything is fine. You know we will never let anything happen to you right?” You nodded whispering “ofcourse i know” with confusion still present in your eyes . Yoongi’s jaw clenched and he rasped out “ jungkook found out that someone has been following you since a few days” you gasped and his arms around you tighten “what” yoongi kissed your neck and held you close in his protective embrace “some shitheads are trying to take me down” he scoffed giving your butt a gentle squeeze before looking at you with sharp eyes “i will find them and make them regret their whole life” the shiver that ran down your spine wasn’t because of cold but because of the coldness in his eyes and tone.

Yoongi was always the calm one in situations like this and agust is the rough one but when it comes to you, they both become ruthless gang leaders who won’t ever hesitate to kill anyone who dares to hurt you. “Let’s go home” you whispered and he nodded kissing your head as you stood up from his lap. Standing up you gave him his suit jacket back which he kept in one hand and wrapped his free arm around your shoulder and you both walked out of the room. Walking towards the elevator you looked up at him see him looking ahead with a distant look in his eyes. You know that even though he is physically with you, his mind is somewhere else and it won’t calm down until they catch the person. So squeezing his arm you smiled softly when he looked down at you and he smiled when you said “everything will be fine” he nodded scratching the scar under his eye as you both stepped in the elevator and he pressed the button of the ground floor. You exhaled softly and buried your face in his chest as his arm around your shoulder tighten and he pressed a kiss on your head before breathing out “i love you baby” you smiled whispering “i love you too” in his chest. You pulled away slightly when the elevator door opened and you both walked out but your eyes widened and you suddenly stopped causing yoongi to stop too and look at you slightly alarmed “what’s wrong? ” he asked looking around with his hand already going back towards his gun which was safely tucked in his belt. “I forgot holly!” You exclaimed with wide eyes causing him to sigh “I’ll be right back!” You said with a small laugh and ran back towards the elevator while yoongi shaked his head with a small smile on his face as he heard hoseok laughing in the background.

You hummed softly as you reached the floor of namjoon’s office not noticing a man following behind you who was also in the elevator with you. While you were walking towards joon’s office yoongi glanced at his watch and looked back towards the elevator as a few men working under him bowed towards him. “Hyung?” Yoongi looked back surprised to see namjoon standing behind him with holly besides him who growled happily and went towards yoongi who hummed and chuckled as the happy dog sat besides him and he caressed the dog’s head “you’re leaving early? Y/n went to your office” mumbled yoongi taking his phone out to call you while namjoon nodded “I’ve some work to take care of so i was thinking of asking jungkook to look after holly but i saw you here” yoongi didn’t replied instead waited for you to pick up the call but you never did making yoongi frown. “Maybe it’s in her bag” he murmured sighing “don’t worry she will come back soon besides there’s no one on that floor” yoongi hummed questioning and namjoon nodded “i was the last one there”

“Oh?” You mumbled seeing the lights in namjoon’s office off and only then you noticed that you didn’t saw anyone on your way here. You shrugged thinking he must be with jin or Taehyung and turned around to go back to yoongi but you jumped and a scream almost left your mouth when you saw an unknown man standing right in front of you. You didn’t even heard his footsteps. Placing a hand on your chest you sighed and bowed slightly towards the man before walking past him. He must be one of yoongi’s men. Maybe he also came to find namjoon. Soon a frown settled on your lips when you realized the man was still following you and turned your head slightly and sure enough he was staring straight at you. Something about His gaze made you so uncomfortable that a shiver ran down your spin. You unknowingly speeded your steps and your throat tightened when you heard the man speeding behind you too. Why did namjoon’s office has to be so far from the elevator? A gasp escaped your lips when the unknown man caught up with you and grabbed your wrist harshly causing you to look at him with fear in your eyes. “W-what are doing?! Let me go!” You screamed trying to pull your hand away but his grip only tightened causing you to whimper in pain. You looked around and tears filled your eyes when you realized you were alone with this man and he smirked before raising his hand to hold your arm but before he could, you hastily took out the pepper spray from your bag and sprayed it in his eyes causing him to scream and let you go “you fucking bitch” you whimpered hearing his gruff voice and your feet took off with a thought.

Running towards the elevator as fast as you can , a sob escaped your lips when you heard him running behind you and quickly took your phone out. A shaky breath left your mouth as you saw yoongi’s missed call and immediately called him. You gasped as a ring went by before his deep voice was heard “y/n? Baby namjoon’s here-” “yoongi!” You sobbed hearing him getting closer and yoongi immediately looked alert as fear set inside him “y/n? Hey baby what’s wrong?! Y/n?!” Yoongi growled out the last words as you screamed when the man grabbed your hair tightly and turned your around causing the phone to slip out of your hand and fall on the ground “yoongi!” A scream of his name left your lips when the man raised his hand and slapped you hard causing you to fall on the floor harshly while yoongi was already running “hey! Who the fuck is there?! Y/n?! Don’t fucking touch her dammit” yoongi growled and took the stairs when the elevator took too long and ran up the stairs feeling anger coursing through his body as he heard you crying and screaming for help “you’ll regret touching her when i get my hands on you” you faintly heard his voice from afar because of the ringing in your head and whimpered as the man grabbed your collar and harshly made you stand up. Your eyes widened when the man pinned you to the wall and wrapped his hand around your neck squeezing it tightly which had you gasping for air as your hands tried to push him away. He groaned when your nails scratched his hand and squeezed your throat tighter causing you to close your eyes as your oxygen got cut off and your hands fell limply to your side.

And just as you thought that you’re going to die here, the man was suddenly thrown off of you and you fell on the floor wheezing and gasping for air. You placed a hand on your head feeling dizzy and tried your best to look towards the source of voice “yoongi! Stop!” You heard jin’s voice but you couldn’t open your eyes as leaned against the floor feeling tears flowing down your face as you heard holly barking. While yoongi’s voice changed to a more rough one as he continued throwing punches at the man laying below him “you fucking son of a bitch how dare you touch my fucking woman” yoongi threw a harsh punch on the man’s face and you swear you heard a cracking noise causing you to whimper softly as your vision slowly started coming back and you could make out a blurred sight of jungkook and hoseok trying to stop yoongi who was beating the man who almost killed you harshly. Another string of curse words left yoongi’s lips and you realized that he wasn’t yoongi right now . “Agust” you managed to croak out as your hand reached for him and his head snapped towards you.

He was on his feet in a second and rushed towards you. You sobbed softly as his arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace and leaned against his chest while his jaw was still tight and his eyes were holding so much anger. When yoongi reached where you were and saw that man choking you, he swear something inside him snapped and he saw red as his alter ego forced his way out and ran towards you. If you haven’t called him right now, then the man would have been dead. You gasped and buried your face in his chest and his arms around you tighten. More anger filling inside him when he saw a trail of blood on your lower lip. Cupping your face gently he made you look at him and you cried shaking in his arms “I’m here now. Everything’s okay. You’re okay” he whispered pressing his forehead against you and took you in his arms . His one arm wrapped under your knees and under one held your waist and he stood up holding you bridal style while you laid your head on his chest, your hand gripping his shirt tightly. Looking at namjoon he rasped out “i don’t want any of those shit heads leaving this damn building. They’ll will regret setting a foot here” Namjoon nodded and yoongi started walking ahead with holly following you both. Reaching home he placed you on the bed and your heart tugged tightly when holly whined seeing you hurt. You cooed and caressed his face to reassure him that you’re fine and flinched slightly when yoongi caressed your cheek which had already formed red causing him to clench his jaw. Somewhere in between the ride home, yoongi came back making you worried that agust might be upset but yoongi reassured you that he is fine. He was too angry at that time and he didn’t want you to see him in his scariest form. And the same went with yoongi. He too never want you to see him as a ruthless gang leader. And that’s why he tried to calm down because he didn’t want to scare you more.

After giving you a warm bath ,he helped you wear his hoodie with a pair of your underwear and carried you back to bed before laying down besides you. He unbuttoned his shirt until his sharp torso was on view and cradled your body close to him. You sighed shakily amd buried your face in his chest. He didn’t spoke anything since you both arrived home and that made you more nervous “yoongi?” He hummed kissing your head and you whispered out “s-someone was following me” pulling back slightly yoongi looked at with furrowed eyebrows “what?” You gulped nervously and avoided eye contact as you said “w-when i was coming to meet you, someone was following me and holly sensed it but at that time i-i thought he was just paranoid” taking a harsh breath yoongi stood up and took his gun from the side table causing you to gasp and stand up too “why the fuck didn’t you told me that before?!” He growled out and and started walking towards the door “I’ll fucking kill every single one of them” “no yoongi please stop” you pleaded rushing in front of him and placing your hands on his chest. His hands found there way on your hips , gripping then tightly as he leaned his head against yours “please stop” you whispered with your eyes closed and placed your hand on his heart feeling it pounding “don’t…don’t ever hide anything from me” he breathed out and you nodded as a tear left your eyes which he wiped immediately. He thinks he knows who has been tailing you but he wasn’t sure and that’s why he didn’t went and killed all of them. But right now that didn’t mattered when you looked so scared and nervous. Pulling you closer he pressed his lips on yours in a gentle but passionate kiss as he poured all of his love in it. Throwing the gun somewhere on the floor he picked you up making you wrap your legs around his waist and his one hand held your thigh with the other one on your back. Laying you on the bed gently he kissed you slowly and softly and a soft growl left his lips that had you whimpering his name. As your lips moved smoothly against each other, he whispered “we love you so fucking much babygirl ” you wrapped your arms around his neck whispering “i love you both. So so much”

As you both spent a night embracing each other fully, he showed you how you meant to them . He showed you that they would do anything and everything for you. As your naked form slept peacefully in his arms, his phone vibrated indicating of a message. Yoongi smirked switching his phone off and held you just a little tighter. The smirk turning into a soft smile when you snuggled closer into him and he kissed your bare shoulder softly before falling asleep as well.

Namjoon: lee and his gang are dead

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Fri, 06 May 2022 07:03:17

Clingy baby

Producer husband yoongi x soft wife reader

◇Summary: you are sleepy and yoongi is busy. And you need to cuddle while sleeping so work can wait when it comes to you.

◇Genre: fluff,fluff and more fluff!

◇Warnings: loads of cuteness because y/n is a cutie patootie which can melt yoongi’s cold . Implied smut just some indirect mention.

A/n : hello hello! This idea was given by my wifey @teluki which inspired me to write this cute little one shot!

Author’s pov

You smiled softly against his chest as his large hand ran up and down your back in hopes of lulling you to sleep. You sighed and gripped his thin white t shirt, relaxing in his strong embrace. Yoongi kissed your head softly continuing caressing your back as you snuggled into his body. You have the habit of cuddling while sleeping. Before you met yoongi, you used to hold your big teddy bear in your sleep because you can’t sleep without holding something. But after yoongi came in your life, the teddy bear was long forgotten because yoongi was really endeared when you told him about this habit at the beginning of your dating and since then he would hold you tightly every time you slept. Yoongi finds this habit of yours absolutely adorable and even after 4 years of dating and 1 and half year of marriage you still sleep in his arms. And that’s why yoongi is always hesitant to leave you alone every time he goes to a business trip because he knows you have trouble sleeping without him besides you.

Yoongi smiled softly when he heard soft little snores coming from you and kissed your forehead when your head lulled back slightly and adjusted your head on the pillow before removing some strands of hair from your face. A quiet chuckle left his lips seeing your chubby cheeks squished against the pillow with your mouth slightly opened . Covering you with the duvet properly he sighed and reluctantly stood up. All he wants to do is get back in bed and continue holding you but unfortunately he has some work to complete. He slowly creeped out of the room as to not wake you up and started walking towards his home studio. He knows that he has to write the song idea that just came to his mind because he will definitely forget it later. Closing the door he sat on his chair and took his notebook and started scribbling whatever came to his mind

Half an hour later, you woke up not feeling the familiar warmth of your husband anymore and a pout settled on your lips when you found his side of the bed empty. You huffed knowing he went back to work again not just because you wanted to cuddle but also because you were worried he might overwork himself again. He has the habit of working continuously for hours without eating or drinking anything and it had been hardly 3 hours since he came home and he is wondering again. Still you didn’t want to disturb him. It might be important if he got out of bed to complete the work. So you sighed and cuddling in the blanket hoping to fall asleep again. But no matter how much you tossed and turned, sleep didn’t came. So after contemplating for another 5 minutes you finally stood up and wore one of his hoodie before making your way towards his studio.

Knocking the door once , as expected you didn’t got any response. So you opened the door and walked inside shivering slightly because of the coldness in his studio. How does he not freeze and can work normally in this temperature? “Yoongi” you called him softly while tapping his shoulder and he jumped slightly before turning his chair around and removing the headphone “ y/n? Baby why are you up it hasn’t been long since you slept” he mumbled pulling you closer noticing the sleepiness in your eyes. You yawned standing in between his legs and absentmindedly caressed his hair “i can’t sleep” you mumbled softly feeling your eyes getting heavier “can’t you work tomorrow?” You continued with a pout which he is sure you didn’t even noticed. He looked back at his laptop and then at back at you sighing tiredly “no baby I’m sorry but i have to complete this today” your pout increased with your sleepy mind not processing anything more than the want to be held by him “but i want to cuddle” you whined childishly rubbing your eyes and a tired smile creeped on his face. No matter how much he wants to pick you up and sleep while holding you he wants to finish this too because he has been stuck at this song since weeks and he can’t let the inspiration and ideas of the lyrics go “I’m so sorry babygirl but i need to work right now. It will only take about an hour can you try to sleep until then?” He said a little strenly making you bite your lip knowing he might get irritated if you kept on pushing him . Now feeling a little selfish you nodded hoping to mask the sadness and took a step back making yoongi immediately want to pull you back to feel your warmth again.

“It’s okay i know work is important. I’m sorry i disturbed you” you said not looking at him and walked out of the room closing the door behind you and made your way towards the bedroom while yoongi cursed under his breath and pushed his hair back sighing. He couldn’t ignore the guilt creeping inside him because he knows you can’t sleep without him and still sent you back. You shouldn’t look so hesitant to ask him about anything and he hated that you did.

You layed back on the bed sleeping on yoongi’s side hoping that his scent will help you fall asleep and closed your eyes snuggling in his pillow. You can’t believe you disturbed him just because you wanted to cuddle. So lost in your internal thoughts you didn’t heard the door opening and closing and you were surprised when you felt the bed dipped behind you and his arm wrapped around your waist with his another arm snaking under your head. You held his hand which was under your head and whispered “yoon-” “shh go back to sleep kitten. I’m sorry i got mad at you” he murmured kissing your neck softly “it’s okay you can work i will be fine yoongs” you whispered caressing his arm adoring how good it felt wrapped around you. “No. Work can be done later. Now go to sleep I’m tired” you giggled and turned your head slightly to kiss him and he immediately responded kissing you back sleepily but you let out a surprised sound when he suddenly started sucking your bottom lip gently “hey! I thought you were tired” you giggled when his lips chased yours and covered his lips with your hand causing him to grunt “it’s okay we can sleep in tomorrow” “no mr min you are going to sleep right now so no funny business” you said hovering your lips on his teasingly and pulling back when he tried to kiss you. He groaned but still let you snuggle in his chest and pulled you closer. “You sure you want to sleep?” He asked huskily while pressing a wet kiss under your ear causing you to shiver and slap his chest .

“Yes i do"you stated causing him to grumble while you tangled your legs with his while he scooted down and layed his head on your chest snuggling in your soft skin "good night yoon” you whispered closing your eyes and heard a deep mumble “night kitten”

The next morning he took his revenge just so you know.

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Fri, 22 Apr 2022 06:22:42

1:12am

“Y/n?” You jumped slightly hearing your fiance’s voice suddenly and turned around wide eyed while yoongi bite back a chuckle because you looked absolutely adorable in your oversized t shirt with your mouth full of chocolate ice cream “yes?” You squeaked out hiding the tub behind your back not so sneakily causing him to smile “what are you doing princess?” He asked already knowing the answer but wanting to see what you’re going to do “umm watching the stars?” You said without thinking anything while yoongi hummed walking towards you causing to walk backwards till your back hit the counter “and where are your stars baby” he mumbled taking the ice cream from behind your back causing you to whine and try to take it back but he gave you a look causing you to pout and huff “i was hungry!” He wrapped his arm around your waist looking at the tub which was now half empty causing him to sigh “then you should have woke me up baby and i could have made something. You just got well do you want to get sick again?” He scolded you gently and you shaked your head and buried your face in his chest with the pout still on your lips “m sorry” your voice came out mumbled and he kissed your head “it’s okay” he pecked your lips and continued “do you want to eat a sandwich? I’ll make some” he mumbled already pulling away but you whined and shaked your head feeling your eyes getting heavier with all the ice cream you stuffed “I’m not hungry now. Sleepy” you mumbled causing him to laugh and he nodded “alright then let’s get you to bed” he said and bend down picking you up bridal style and you wrapped your around his neck smiling sleepily and kissed his neck softly before nuzzling your face in his warm skin. He smiled fondly at your habit of becoming clingy whenever you’re sleepy and continued walking towards the bedroom when you mumbled something “yoongs” he hummed closing the door with his leg and his movements halted for a moment when you whispered “i want to have kids” and he looked down at you to see you already closing your eyes and smiled walking towards the bed. His mind now filled with having a little you or a little him running around in the house and their bright laughs bouncing on the walls. Laying you on the bed gently he kissed your forehead before whispering against your skin “i would love that babygirl” you smiled softly and pulled him down with you and he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled your leg up so that it was wrapped around his torso. And just like that, you both fell asleep being tangled against each other with both of your minds filled with the happiness coming in the future.

And tomorrow after you unexpectedly throw up the first thing in the morning, you both also got to know the reason why you wanted to eat pickles dipped in chocolate last week

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A/n : I’m back!

Let me know if you want to be in my permanent taglist!

Sat, 16 Apr 2022 13:59:54

It’s always been you

5: you know i would do anything for you babygirl

15: is she mine?

20: he will regret this

28:you’re mine before him

37: are you fucking crazy?!

Prompt list

Idol! Yoongi x soft reader one shot

Summary: destiny tries to separate you with the one you love the most. But as everyone says, two people who are in love with each other always find their way back.

Genre: angst in the beginning, smut at the end with happy ending.

Warnings: swearing, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of past abuse, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of rape, mature content, soft dom yoongi, soft sex, yoongi just loves you a lot

Author’s pov

Sometime in March, 2013

You took a shaky breath and hugged yourself as a harsh wind blew past your bundled up form. Your body tensed up when you heared the familiar deep voice which gave you comfort at one time but now you just wished for the ground to swallow you. “Hey babygirl ” he said sitting besides you on the bench. His eyebrows furrowing slightly when you avoided his eyes and scooted towards the end of the bench when he tried to pull you closer. “Is something wrong?” He asked soothingly and a small cry almost escaped seeing how confused he was. You shaked your head and blinked back the tears which didn’t go unnoticed by him. He was in front of you in a second. Crouching down in front of you ,he took your cold hands in his , with his another hand rubbing your knee gently. “Baby look at me please” he whispered with pleading eyes . You know he hates seeing you cry and you hate how much worried he looks for you. “W-we need to talk” you whispered shakily and his grip on your hands tighten, out of nervousness. But he still nodded and gave you a small smile “what’s wrong ” you took a deep breath and managed to croak out “l-let’s break up” for a moment, time stilled. You saw how his body visibly tensed up and he swallowed thickly before asking “why? Did i….did i do something wrong?” You shook your head and tried to free your hands from his grip but it tightened as soon as you tried to push him. “Y-you didn’t do anything wrong yoongi. It’s just…I’m doing this for your own good” “No” he said harshly and stood up pushing his hair back before taking a deep breath and looking at you with unshed tears in his eyes “please…please tell me baby. I-i promise I’ll fix it baby. I-is it because I’m not stable right now? You know my training at big hit has started . We are finally about to debut. I promise I’ll-I’ll give you everything you want. I promise I’ll work harder baby” he was now almost begging you. But he didn’t care. Not when he is so close to losing you. He can’t lose. You are his everything. His whole world. He won’t be able to live without you. A soft sob escaped your lips hearing his words. Of course you aren’t leaving him because of that. You don’t care about money. You don’t care that you both live in a small house. Because it’s home. “No yoongi. Please try to understand me. I-I’m doing this for you” your broken whisper caused a flame to ignite inside him which soon turned into anger. “No! No you aren’t y/n! You are just being selfish. You want to break up with me but you won’t tell me why. Let me fix it .Please, please baby you promised you will never leave me” the last words came out as soft whispers and your heart broke at how his voice cracked in between. You almost broke down when he said those words

“You know i will do anything for you babygirl ”

Keep reading

Sat, 26 Mar 2022 01:58:02

Perfect || myg

⤷Genre:romance; fluff; husband!yoongi x wife!reader.

⤷Warnings:none.

Yoongi was the very creation of all you adored, all melting together within a masterpiece you called your husband

The warmth of his molten eyes swirled with love so much like your favorite cup of coffee just as the soft shape of his nose so strongly resembled your childhood kitten; not to mention the plush pillows of his cheeks that reminded you of the most beloved breads so perfectly; your lover was simply the manifestation of all the things you loved most, into one, perfect being.

Which is why your eyes focused upon his endearing features, instead of all else whilst you basked within his arms and savored the warmth of his love, willing to merely stare at him for as long as he would allow.

And it was with every skim of his lips or shy flutter of his lashes did you think of something other than him, how you wanted nothing more than for your little ones to share the very features you adored.

With the reverie of your future in mind, your fingertips just couldn’t be helped as they lovingly traced over the line of his jaw and followed the imaginary path to the bow of his lips, contently following the pull to very tip of his nose, where you tenderly pressed into the soft curve.

Your heart faltered once his soft irises rounded into two perfect spheres before he locked them upon your own, surprised by the soft gesture, his chest rose and fell hurriedly under your palms, and for a moment, you feared the worst.

But the smoothe skin of his cheeks creased just below his eyes and foretold of the gummy smile that tenderly kissed his lips beneath your gaze, and you gasped softly at the relief.

“What was that, baby?” He breathlessly whispered within every nook and crevice of the flustered laughter you elicited with the loving touches of his skin, that wrote your words of love in his every feature you admired.

Your own breathing grew uneven as his body curled tighter around your own before his nose carefully nuzzled into the crook of your neck, to tickle your flesh with his hot breath as he flustered you endlessly, returning the unintentional favor.

“It just felt right” you shyly admitted, cupping his soft face within your hands as you cooed at your adorable love, “I love how all of your features fit you so perfectly, and I thought-”

Your words perished upon your tongue once a heat that his presence had made you so familiar with kissed every crevice of your skin, when his curiosity drew him away from the gentle kisses he placed within the hollow of your throat, only for his head to tilt, as if to silently inquire deeper into your thoughts until the truth spilled from your lips.

“Our children will be so perfect.” You suddenly blurted, unable to lie to the one who held you so dearly.

Yoongi’s mouth merely gaped within the silence that followed your confession, and for a moment you believed you had said far too much of your heart, until his lips suddenly met yours, in a fleeting kiss, that was almost twice as sweet as your soulmate.

He parted the kiss far too soon for your approval of the contact, but once the rosy hue of his cheeks scrunched with his sweet smile, you found yourself to forgive him, especially once his eyes stared into yours as if you had given him the very stars above whilst his fingers reached to intertwine with your own.

“If they’re anything like you, my love, they could never be anything less.”

Tag list: @holaaaf @yourwonderbelle @lolalee24

@delightfulserendipity

Fri, 04 Mar 2022 18:25:29

casuallyimagining:

Home (20)
Hybrid Min Yoongi x Female Reader;
Platonic OT7 x Female Reader; Namseok; Jinkook
Summary:After helping Yoongi get away from his abusive former owner, you’re left to focus on your relationship and how it progresses. That is, until you find six other hybrids who need your help, and their former owner decides he’s going to make your life hell.
Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff
Word Count: 2,247
Rating:M
Warnings (updated per chapter): stalking, wild animal attack, major character injury, blood, implied homophobia, slight internalized homophobia, starvation, hospitalization, discussion of sexual assault, discussion of physical assault, discussion of controlling behavior, heavy petting, marking, slightly toxic relationship, spiraling thoughts, fictional discrimination
Major thanks to @eatjeanjin for beta-ing this and for listening to me complain almost constantly. You’ve been nothing but helpful and sweet, and I’m so grateful for your opinions and assistance.
banners by @mintkims
Sequel to Fix You. Read it first.
Previous|Masterlist | Next
“Wait. I’m sorry. Tell me one more time?”
Yoongi rolled his eyes but obliged. “He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t trust you. Or humans in general I guess.”
“But that makes no sense.” You checked your phone to make sure you were still walking in the correct direction. “If he doesn’t hate me then why’s he an asshole all the time?”
“That’s just Jin-hyung.” Yoongi shrugged. “He’s overprotective of all of us.”
Keep reading

Oh wow that Les guy… the actual NERVE!! and that cliffhanger? Can’t wait to read what happens next!

#fic home #casuallyimagining #bts fic recs #bts fic rec #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x yn #min yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x yn #yoongi x you #yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic

@veronawrites

Sat, 21 May 2022 20:53:01

wicked, m | jjk, myg

full title: wicked (good boy gone bad)
part of the seriesinspired by TXT’s album minisode 2: thursday’s child

pairing(s): jungkook x reader (plus a lil) x yoongi

summary: He used to be a good boy, but now he knew what that really meant – being an obedient, dumb, naïve dog to a liar. Thanks to a combination of sex, chains, and rock-n-roll, that wasn’t who he was anymore. Jeon Jungkook has gone bad. Just watch him.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you dislike overabundant swearing, maybe skip this one; D/s threesome smut (fem reader, black leather collars and chain leashes, bondage, hair pulling, cowgirl, choking [note: Yoongi chokes JK and yoonkook choke each other], so much saliva /spitting kink, scratching, m-receiving oral, handjob, doggy); non-idol!AU - sub!Jungkook x goth, dom!reader x sub!Yoongi; Jungkook’s POV to Yoongi’s POV

When I heard TXT’s ‘Good Boy Gone Bad’, it immediately reminded me of collared!JK, who suffered a bad breakup, went to a party to snort cocaine, but instead he got fucked by a chick with a single white contact and daddy issues… oop. Yoongi’s involved (of course). And they have choked each other before.

–

anger. the second stage of grief

A hand gripped his chin and shoved it up. Long callused fingers dug into his cheeks as his eyes rolled back, seeing only a blur of black and white. His chest felt like it was clawed open. His skin was covered with layer upon layer of red-hot lines, and those fingernails were digging in again, adding more, more fire, more marks, more pain.

It was too much.

It was just right.

This broken feeling is not too bad.

He tried to move his head and found the other hand grip the back of his skull, clutching a handful of his thick hair. Fingers twisting in between the strands, then curling in and grasping, pulling, ensnaring him with hurt.

“Stay still,” was growled above him, heavy and raspy. Familiar.

I like it.

He gasped and let his tongue hang, moaning as he felt wet muscle stroke his throat, hot lips pressing into his shaking Adam’s apple.

I want this.

“Do you miss the collar, my pet?” the voice in front of him purred, wicked and sweet. The owner of that voice was the cause of the marks he bore now. They were temporary, but the raw feeling was seared into his memory, a feeling for him to savor forever.

Watch me.

Jeon Jungkook opened his eyes, looking up to Min Yoongi, the one whose hands were gripping his head and locking it in place. Those narrowed dark-brown orbs glanced down at him. Cold and cat-like. Around older male’s pale neck was a thick, black leather collar that held a metal silver ring in the center, dangling above the Jungkook’s head. Jungkook’s eyes went to it, staring at the swaying silver catching the light of the bedroom.

Yoongi leaned down.

Let the cold metal touch Jungkook’s sweaty forehead, sending icy shock followed by surging jealousy through his burning veins. The collar ring lightly bounced against his brows in the steady rhythm that was the brutal force of hips smacking into his crotch, slick walls constricting around his rock-hard cock while his arms were bound, his clenched fists pressing to the small of his own back.

Jungkook tried to speak but he couldn’t.

His words were being snuffed out by his own moans.

Yoongi clicked his tongue and lifted his head. He seemed disappointed. Annoyed. The long-sleeved white shirt his hyung was wearing was ripped down the center, the edges jagged and torn, revealing his collarbones and part of the pale chest underneath.

“What good is givin’ you a chance to talk if you don’t take it?” Yoongi scoffed, his Daegu satoori adding a rough depth to his dangerous tone.

The hand on Jungkook’s chin slid down.

Break me more.

Those rough fingertips pressed down on the sides of his neck the same time Yoongi yanked Jungkook’s head up by his hair, forcing him to look forward as his blood began to thin out.

Just break me.

Yoongi choked him as Jungkook stared into the eyes of his favorite kind of pain, the eyes of the woman in black, the eyes that glittered with devious intent, the eyes that didn’t match. One real iris, one fake white iris. A contact lens. She cocked her head. Her clothes were still mostly on while she rolled her hips, thrusting his stiff length inside her tight heat. Nimble pink tongue flickering out, dancing against the side of her lips. Her hands splayed out over his inflamed chest, her pointed black fingernails digging into his pecs.

Fucking him on the black leather bench at the base of her bed like he was a piece of meat, not bothering to give him the grace of expensive sheets and soft mattress under his rigid, straining thighs.

She was grinning.

A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.

She slashed down his sides, tearing airless gasp leaking out of his throat that morphed into an obscene moan as her hands hit the bench, the forward position allowing her to put more force in her fucking. Her torn-up band tee hanging down, breasts still covered in a black satin bra underneath, not even giving him a view for his unfocused eyes to lock on, the chain on her skirt jangling, smacking him and her, her juicy thighs squeezing his hard ones.

“Choke him harder, Yoongi,” she hissed, licking her teeth, open-mouthed smirk right in his face.

The pale hand around his neck took more blood away.

He craved the taste of pain and he knew it.

I like this altered face of mine.

Lightheaded and suspended in air, pleasure and pain flaring up his stomach, into his burning lungs, snaking around what was left of his heart that was full of scars from someone else, from another time where Jungkook believed in love, but love only gave him stress and pain, so now he gouged it out with blackout lust.

I like this me.

Higher and higher, less and less air, seconds like hours, ropes cutting into his skin, her slick, sweet-smelling cum dripping down between his tense legs, staring into Yoongi’s dark eyes that only grew darker in the shadows, his hyung bringing his face close to Jungkook’s panting-open mouth, that low whisper a command not to be defied.

“Cum.”

I like being bad.

Yoongi dug his fingers into Jungkook’s hair and pulled back hard.

It all crashed down, choked wail tearing out of him, his back arching to the extreme, stinging hurt from his head shooting down to meet pain crisscrossed over his chest, down to meet searing throbs of ecstasy and tense, straining legs, his hips jerking up strongly and pumping his orgasm out in short fierce jolts, spilling into the condom and deep inside the woman in black.

Airless, bloodless, suspended in pleasure.

For a singular, isolated millisecond, Jeon Jungkook was in heaven.

Kill me, just kill me.

Yoongi released him.

Air punched into his lungs and Jungkook’s head snapped back, pathetic whine mixing with coughing, held up by Yoongi’s hand behind his head, the other now between his shoulder blades, the powerful pulsing of her pussy forcing blinding bliss to interrupt his pain, helplessly falling apart to her grinding hips, her satisfied sigh drifting over him, hot breath against his burning, clawed-up skin. Yoongi pushed Jungkook’s lolling head up since unable to do it himself, panting, struggling to breathe, his limbs like lead from the high of his orgasm, his vision focusing, finding what he was looking for.

Those eyes.

Right iris real, left iris fake white.

She leaned down and licked his heaving chest, leaking saliva all over his marked skin.

Jungkook moaned, leaning into it as Yoongi’s hand moved from his hair and onto his collarbone, sliding down, graceful fingers following the dripping spit, spreading the slippery saliva all over, tongue and touch tracing the red lines and circling his nipples, and Jungkook’s hips thrust up into her even though the condom needed to be replaced, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care anymore, he just didn’t care.

His hyung snickered at his reaction.

“So needy.”

That’s right. I need this.

Up his trembling neck, and then she grabbed his chin and spat into his mouth, slick liquid sliding down his tongue and into his throat, and he greedily swallowed it all with a wanton moan. This was not the future his naïve past self had dreamed of back then. He couldn’t even remember what he wanted. Now? Now he was tattooed, pierced, chained. Tied up, scratched up, all kinds of fucked-up and Jungkook never wanted it to stop, never wanted to be let go, never wanted it to end, his kind of forever now was this kind of never.

He killed him.

The old, good Jungkook killed, replaced by this new, bad him.

“You really have changed, Jeon Jungkook.”

He almost didn’t recognize that voice. That voice used to mean everything to him. Everything. Nervousness and tenderness, heart on his sleeve, precious smiles and laughs, then creeping doubts, uncertain nights, staring at himself, picking at his face, swallowing his heart and wagging his tail for something that was all shattering slowly before him, all make-believe, all in the name of love.

But love was a lie.

Jungkook turned his head slowly, his black hair shrouding part of his vision in this dim nightclub, staring down at the one he used to call love, darling, one and only.

How stupid he was.

I loved that lie.

He tilted his head.

“Who are you?” he said to his ex-girlfriend, hollow and dead.

But not anymore.

She scowled, clad in a tight rose-colored chiffon minidress and dainty nude stilettos, jerking her head up and down at his appearance. Turning up her nose at him. Disapproval all over her delicate, pretty features, tossing her long, curled hair over her shoulder as she took in his distressed black and white wide-striped sweater with zippers at the shoulders, tight black leather pants, and thick-soled, silver-studded boots.

His neck clinked, heavy and weighted by a black leather collar and silver chain leash.

“You look like a dirty, mangy dog,” she spat.

Those words used to hurt him. She would say that when his shirt was untucked or if his jeans were ripped. Little things that did not match up with the heavy disdain in her voice, sending him into a wave of rocketing panic as he immediately tried to correct himself, trying to be the person she wanted instead of himself.

Was I ever myself?

Now, Jungkook found that those words barely stung.

He didn’t have a heart to feel them anymore.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, the chain leash dangling in front of him, leather handle hitting his thigh.

“And you look like the fuckin’ whore you always were,” Jungkook replied, slow and bored.

The old him wouldn’t have said something so cruel. The old him would have cared about her feelings, even though she hurt him countless times, knowing how fragile he was and dropping him over and over, leaving him to pick up the pieces, blaming himself every single time, believing it was him that lacked the understanding, believing that she must be right because she loved him, believing in the lie that was I love you, but there was a lieinbelieve, and Jungkook knew that now.

Her face contorted, painting dishonest injury over her scorning expression.

“How could you say something like that, Jungkook?” she pleaded, wretched with crocodile tears. “I came all the way to the city to find you and tell you I still love you.”

He had believed it every single time, back then, but that was the past.

“Come home.”

Her pretty hand outstretched, pampered and polished.

“I love you. We can make it right.”

Honeyed words that reeked of sewage.

He raised an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes.

I’m free now.

“Find another dirty, mangy dog to wag their tail at you,” Jungkook growled, the expansion of his neck from his deepening voice hitting the sides of the collar, causing the attached chain to clink and sway by his hips. “You’re uglier than I remember.”

The façade dissipated and she stared at him, enthralled, glassy eyes glittering with grotesque lust.

“I would have kept you if I knew you were going to get hot and sexy,” she breathed. She chuckled, a hideous smirk eating at her face, looking him up and down, unabashed, an object in her eyes. “Who paid for your body tonight? I’ll double it.”

She winked.

“For old time’s sake and charity.”

He let himself feel the anger. Relish in it. Become it. Harness it.

“Even if I was a prostitute,” he snarled, raising his chin. “No amount of money could convince me to touch your parasitic, STI-infested, flat ass.”

He could see the anger was rising now, but she was pushing it down, plastering a fake, sick smile to her face as her shoulders tensed, taking a step towards him, pulling herself to her full height, forcing out pitched laughing to mask her rage at his dismissal. Hilariously, it seemed to be the last adjective that pissed her off the most.

“Come on now, Jungkook,” she cooed, disgusting, prancing her fingers in the air. “Of course, we’re just joking.”

“I’m not joking,” he retorted. “I mean every word.”

Her expression cracked, fury leaking through.

“Tch, I don’t even know why I bother talking to you,” she snapped, clenching her jaw. “You’re thick-skulled and useless. There was never anything good about you except using your dick, and even that I found better replacements. But since you’re so pathetic,” she chuckled darkly, eyeing the hanging leash by his hips. “I don’t need your permission to remind you I’m the best pussy you’ll ever have.”

Her hand shot out.

Jungkook yanked his hands out of his pockets, but he was too late.

Another hand shot between them, snatching the handle of the chain leash next to Jungkook’s crotch. It twisted and slapped the back of his ex’s hand with the leather strap, so hard that the sound cracked through the loud music and drunken conversation.

“Ow!”

The screech of pain was so loud that the club fell silent.

“Get your dirty, mangy hands off my precious pet.”

A gruff growl, the sharpened tone of a predator.

The woman in black.

Leather jacket, too many zippers. Underneath, a bra with a mesh shirt over it. Shockingly short skirt adorned with hanging silver chains. Shredded tights and knee-high boots with a tall platform and high heel, causing her to tower over the other woman. Usually, she had a smirk or a grin. Demonic, but pleasing in its own way.

Not now.

His ex-girlfriend clutched her hand, gawking at the ice-cold gaze of one real iris, one white contact.

“You– You bitch!”

All of a sudden, Jungkook felt his contained irritation morph and burst into white-hot wrath. He did not care much about himself, but to say something so careless… he didn’t care if she was a girl. He didn’t care if he used to say I love you to her. He didn’t care that being the bigger person meant that he should back up and walk away.

Jungkook wanted to ram his knee into his ex-girlfriend’s face until she was completely unrecognizable.

Before he could do so, the woman in black sucked in her cheek with a loud popping sound, head cocked as she scrutinized the other woman. “Yeah, so? I’m a bitch. Congratulations, you got eyes,” she sneered, her voice getting deeper, slipping into her satoori.

His ex-girlfriend snapped her head at him, glaring, but Jungkook could see it in her wide eyes.

Fear.

He felt the anger bleed down, feeling a strange sort of satisfaction at seeing that fear.

“Yah, Jeon Jungkook! What’s this? You need a girl to protect you now because you’re so weak and pathetic? You’re even more pitiful than I thou–”

Anothercrack blasted through the stilled air of the nightclub.

His ex-girlfriend screamed, cowering back.

The woman in black rolled her eyes. “Wow, what a damn baby. All I did was hit my own hand and you’re the one cryin’ over nothin’,” she mocked, lightly tapping the leather handle in her palm. “Look here, you’re noisy and frankly quite hideous even though your parents worked so hard to make you pretty on the outside,” she grunted, shaking her head. “Guess if you’re full of shit, it comes outta your ass and mouth, huh?”

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t be amused at the dumbstruck look on his ex’s face, but he was already smirking.

“Get out. Your spoiled ass doesn’t belong here,” the woman in black hissed.

Strangely, his ex-girlfriend seemed to compose herself, gritting her teeth and backing up. Straightened her skirt and put on her crocodile sniffles, glaring accusingly, pointing to her now reddened hand. “I’ll have you arrested for assault, you slut!”

With a barking laugh, the woman in black doubled over. “Hahahaha, yeah?” Hands on her chest, pushing the mesh shirt into her cleavage. “But if I’m such a slut, I’ve probably slurped every policeman’s dick in this city. The handcuffs are just a kinky touch now,” she snickered, ticking her head like a curious weasel, vicious grin widening. “Come on, if you have a plan, you have to do better than that.”

But there was something wrong, because the woman in the rose-pink dress was not backing down, deadly glee overtaking her expression.

“Watch–” Jungkook started, but the leash was suddenly dropped.

“You thought I came alone, didn’t you?” his ex-girlfriend sniggered. She waved her hand and several men slipped out of the crowd to stand behind her. Chiseled jaws, one-size-too-small polo shirts, pressed khakis. “As if.”

Man, this girl is fuckin’ stupid.

Jungkook glanced at the woman in black.

She was not afraid.

“Ho.” A low chuckle, looking at each of those pampered faces. “You that good?”

He could see the slow, demonic grin forming on her lips now.

A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.

Jungkook didn’t bother to move. There were five guys and his one pathetic ex-girlfriend that was moving behind them, all versus the woman in black who was removing her leather jacket, tossing it behind her. He caught it, carefully folding it in his hands.

One real iris, one white iris, all danger.

Raised her hand, beckoning them forward.

“Come at me,” she growled, low and treacherous. “Bring it on.”

His ex-girlfriend glared at him, grisly triumph twisting her facial features. “Last chance to save your monster girlfriend,” she jeered.

He shrugged, the chain leash swinging. Then he raised his chin, bouncing it once, ticking his head from side to side.

“Hm, maybe look around you first before you do something stupid.”

And now, now they finally looked around, finally realizing the club was dead silent, because every single face was turned towards the outsiders. Leather, vinyl, mesh, too much makeup and too many tattoos, pale faces edged in black, watching, even the bartender clutching a beer bottle and the band on tables, holding their instruments, squinting down at these idiots that thought it was a good idea to harass the Boss, not only the owner of the music studio the band rented, but also a constant financial supporter of the night club they were standing in.

The woman in black looked exasperated, rolling her eyes.

“Youserious? Are you gonna let me beat up at least one of them?” She pointed at one of the primly dressed men, waving her finger around. “Come on, his nose already looks broken. If I break it again, insurance will cover it instead of him paying out-of-pocket!”

“Come on, Boss. Your dad is gonna be sad if you get hurt,” the bassist of the band chuckled, jumping down.

“Papa can go cry into his gambling money and nurse his sugar babies,” she growled irritably, taking a step forward. “Fuck ya’ll. Imma get at least one punch in for fun.”

Shing!

She jerked back, the gleam of a silver sword reflecting off her eyes.

“Can’t let you do that,” said a deep, raspy voice.

Her head turned, facing cold, cat-like eyes.

“Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi smirked, open-mouthed and pleased. Tongue between his teeth. Long black hair framing his cheekbones, pale skin glowing in the overhead lights. He purred her name back, tilting the traditional sword to reflect off her full lips.

“Lookin’ kissable tonight, Boss.”

The tips of her cheekbones flushed pink at his hyung’s comment.

There was a flurry of noise and the six outsides took that awkward moment to vacate, pushing through the crowd and out the door. Of course, they did. The whole club was grabbing every blunt weapon available and then some crazy guy shows up with a sword out of all things? Jungkook would have bounced the second they were distracted too.

“I always wanted to do that,” Yoongi chuckled, sheathing the sword.

“Whatare you?” she cackled, shoving him in the chest playfully, making everyone laugh. “Some kinda historical drama protagonist? You nicked the damn sword behind the bar and started waving it around left and right! What if you lopped off someone’s head?”

Yoongi scoffed, placing the black traditional sword gently onto the bar top where the bartender sighed in relief, shaking his head at them. “Come on. I told you I did some sword dancing at university. I know how to handle a sword. It’s not even sharp.”

She slapped her hand down on Yoongi’s shoulder, turning him around.

“Come here.”

Angling her head, pushing Yoongi against the bar, lips to lips in a fiery kiss, raspy chuckle between them, her body fitting against his, practically bending his back over the bar.

“Aw, Boss, not on the bar! Get outta here with that shit!”

The bartender was shooing them away and she detached from Yoongi’s face, grinning, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy, grabbing Yoongi by the collar of his shirt and slipping her hand in the leather strap that Jungkook held out, tightly grasping it, dragging them both along, insane laughter tumbling from her lips.

He thought it would bother him, seeing the one he used to call love.

Strangely, it didn’t.

Probably because he killed that good boy wagging his tail, ditching those hopes that his love could change unfaithful hearts, because the only thing worse than a dumb bitch was the one that believed in her lies.

Jungkook felt the leather collar snap into the sides of his neck and felt himself smile, following the call of the chain.

It felt so good.

It felt so good being bad.

“Tighter.”

Min Yoongi stared into those large, dark brown orbs, glassy and fucked out. Tattooed arm extended, hand turning at his command, winding the silver chain around the leather strap and pulling hard, the sides of the thick black leather collar pressing into Yoongi’s neck.

He mirrored Jeon Jungkook’s movement.

Yoongi watched the younger man’s face shadow with pleasure, the slurping sound under them getting louder, messier. He let his hips roll forward, fuck, the tight wet heat all around him, looking down to watch Jungkook’s cock getting swallowed with some effort. Her hand around the base, rubbing the balls with her slippery palm. Yoongi thrust harder, slightly bent forward from Jungkook’s strong grip, feeling the tendrils of lightheadedness creep up his head, his cock getting even harder, twitching inside her at the anticipation.

Guess there as a reason for the length of these chain leashes after all.

Yoongi lifted his head again, licking his lips, watching Jungkook.

It was such a beautiful, exquisite descent into madness.

He snapped his hand up and Jungkook’s head tipped back, leather collar squeezing the sides of the younger male’s neck, his sweaty black hair flying, wanton moan dripping from his shapely lips, the tiny mole exposed under a trembling mouth. The silver lip ring glinted in the bedroom lights, wayward pink tongue caressing it.

He knows how to look pretty.

Yoongi smirked as Jungkook noticed him watching.

The eye contact was held for way too long but they were also choking each other and fucking the same woman between them, so it was hard to tell how much was too much.

There was a loud slurp and lips smacking against sensitive skin, visible shiver overtaking Jungkook’s broad frame, gasping as she lifted herself, string of spit snapping, halfway crawling up the younger man’s chest, laughing hoarsely.

“You’re gonna make me choke on his dick, Yoongi.”

“Good,” he hissed out, snapping his hips into her soft ass and making it bounce.

He could hear the rapid sound of hand on wet cock, could see it all over Jungkook’s face, overcome by pleasure and pressurized by speed, his head falling back, choking himself more, shoulders and chest flexed from tenseness, struggling to hold his torso up, and it must have been difficult, the pace of that tight and unforgiving hand matching the tight and unforgiving walls that wrapped around him, squeezing his stiff, throbbing length, harder, trying to make her lose grip, but she planted her hand onto that muscular chest and pushed back against Yoongi, forcing him deeper inside.

Fuck.

Jungkook pulled harder.

Fuck!

The younger man’s lips curved into a roguish smirk.

What happened to the good boy?

Yoongi clenched his teeth and yanked hard.

He must have gone bad.

“Cum for me, Jungkook,” Yoongi heard himself whisper, smokey and thin in his ears, using the last of his breath. Those brown eyes widened, surprised to hear it from him and not, well, the one furiously jacking his dick.

Closer.

Yoongi grinned, maybe a little psychotic.

Closer.

There.

“Fuck!”

And he had no idea who said it, him, Jungkook, her, maybe all three, but then it was a mess, white dripping down the back of her hand and splattering onto Jungkook’s lower belly, her pitching forward and clutching the younger man’s shoulder, wildly moaning into his flexed, hard chest, then the sudden clenching pulse around his twitching cock, and he was gone too, strong jolts filling up the condom, bent over her back, the sudden rush of oxygen knocking the wind out of him, his arm going slack, his hand letting go of leather and metal.

He heard Jungkook gasp, his arms giving out and falling onto the bed with a hard fwump!

Her hand on Jungkook’s shoulder immediately slid down onto the bed, her elbow locking, and she held herself up, anchoring Yoongi in place. His chain leash draped over her shoulder, hanging in the air, already released in Jungkook’s euphoria. She laughed huskily, just a touch of deviousness, slowly rubbing her cum-covered hand all over Jungkook’s spent cock.

Whines and whimpers echoed in the room, the younger man squirming under them, but there were no weak pleas, no refusal, no desire to stop, only those glassy brown orbs opening, begging to be broken, more, just break me.

She leaned down, hot breath against Jungkook’s shaking lips.

“Good boy.”

Snickered, sweetly sinister.

“Just kidding.”

Her agile tongue slid out and licked Jungkook’s cheek, making him break out into a mischievous grin.

“You’re not a good boy anymore, thanks to me.”

far to go. drabble series

01 opening sequence — myg
03 trust fund baby — ksj
04 lonely boy (the tattoo on my ring finger) — kth, ft pjm
05 thursday’s child has far to go — knj, ft jhs
02 good boy gone bad — jjk, ft myg (collar!AU)

–

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #yoonkook smut #yoonkook x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #min yoongi x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you #yoonkook x you

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

Thu, 26 May 2022 02:34:38

opening sequence | myg

drabbles inspired by TXT’s album minisode 2: thursday’s child

warnings: language, angst, mentions of drug use / dealing; also inspired by dear my friend byagust d ft kim jong wan of nell; reader’s POV; starring Min Yoongi

–

*denial.**the first stage of grief*

“You’re okay.”

“You know I’m not.”

“Come on, get up.”

“Get off me.”

He held on.

You almost wretched your arm from his grasp, but Min Yoongi’s grip tightened, and he held on, which was doing a lot more than some people in your life. Why did you believe? You should have never believed. All this time, why? How foolish. You never believed in the conventional love story, so why now?

You stared at them.

The photos scattered around you.

He gave you one every week. Polaroids of lovely moments, dates, hand hearts, smiles, sunny skies and dreamy rain. Sharing an umbrella. A shaved ice with two spoons in it. The sea and the sand. The countryside with the fields of yellow flowers.

The dreams of the dead.

“I told you not to come.”

“It’s my responsibility to check up on you,” he said softly.

Rain.

Just a little rain, right here, drop my drop, falling down, blurring the photos all around you on the floor, the spot that you had been lying on for nearly two days, replaying the moment over and over. The bump on the street, the gasp and spilling of coffee, looking up and sighing exasperatedly into a smile that began the opening sequence that you wish never happened.

That’s so cliché.

“He was my best friend too.”

“That was a long time ago,” you croaked back and you were surprised to find your voice soaked, reaching up and wiping your tears away with the base of your palm, flinging the little rain onto the other photos, ridding yourself of them, because why cry? There was no reason to cry. “You had better things to do.” Slapping your hands down onto those colors, flipping them over one by one, black squares in a domino effect since that was what it really was, black squares covering up the dark moments, the reveal of a small habit, it’s nothing, seeing the blood on his arm, don’t worry, then the black tattoos, one by one, covering up marks, I got you, let’s go to the beach today, cascade the white frames over each other so they held nothing but black squares with dates printed on the back.

People can get tattoos for art.

He got them to cover up how many times he shot up.

You smacked your palms down on the floor and the torrent came, rain splattering down on black squares, a hurricane of emotions, remembering the last time you spoke to him was plexiglass between you with a grungy olive handheld phone and him telling you then when he got out that you two would go to the beach again.

“I believed him…”

You almost slid to the floor again but Yoongi held onto your arm, pale fingers straining from your weight that was more than just mass times the acceleration of gravity, the weight of the end, the weight of the mess, the weight of hate, because you hated that you still believed in that opening sequence, that you could replay it and had hope that maybe this time it would be beautiful.

He lowered, his other hand fitting onto your shoulder, holding up shaking shoulders that threatened to collapse.

“It’s okay to believe the best in people,” Yoongi murmured softly.

I love you, darling.

Slowly, sweeping the black squares together with your wet hands, taking moments to wipe the little rain from your eyes with the backs of your hands, listening to a laugh you no longer heard, fleeting arguments that seemed so far away, the pile up of little secrets that became a big secret, not noticing the world that was so clear and colorful becoming a blur of monochrome.

Give me one more chance.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” you choked out.

What was worse, the lying, the drug habit, or the play-pretend that everything was okay when you knew better than anyone that it wasn’t? Or was it staying right until the police came and took him away, trying to convince them that he was a good guy, that there was no way he was involved in that kind of stuff, when you knew full well that he was, lying and pretending that you knew nothing, which only incriminated him further and left you guiltless in the eyes of the law?

Or was it the guilt?

He had smiled at you anyway, telling you that you two could still go to the beach and watch the ocean together.

“You sold cocaine to a bunch of teenagers,” you said into the phone receiver, scratchy and dying.

His smile had faltered. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve caused you trouble.”

The eyes of Min Yoongi’s childhood best friend looked into yours and he probably promised Yoongi countless things, like making music with him and performing together, but he did none of that because now he was behind bars.

“You’ll be okay,” he said to you.

Notwe.

You.

That was when you knew it was dead.

The opening sequence ran through your head,. The bump on the street, the gasp and spilling of coffee, looking up and sighing exasperatedly into a smile that you told you would love until the end of the world, and that was so, so cliché to ever believe in.

“Come on, let’s get up. Leave it.”

You left it on the floor, the rain and the memories.

“Here.”

He handed you soft tissues, clearly unfolded from his pocket, the kind that came in convenient plastic packs. Layered them for you, placed them in your hand.

You almost fell to the floor again.

You belonged with the tragedy.

Yoongi gripped your upper arms, holding you up.

“I hate him,” he said to your hair. “And I miss him. I should have stopped him. I should have done something.”

You shoved the tissues into your eyes.

Yoongi placed his chin on your forehead and sighed softly, shuddering as your felt the little rain soak the tissues, replaying the opening sequence over and over again, and if you just made different choices, if you just contact Yoongi and asked for help, if you and him had done something different, would they still be friends and would you still be whole, not zero, but one?

And the worst was knowing the answer was probably no.

far to go. drabble series

01 opening sequence — myg
03 trust fund baby — ksj
04 lonely boy (the tattoo on my ring finger) — kth, ft pjm
05 thursday’s child has far to go — knj, ft jhs
02 good boy gone bad — jjk, ft myg (collar!AU)

#yoongi x reader #bts drabble #yoongi drabble #yoongi angst #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader

Fri, 20 May 2022 19:16:14

magic-8, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, yoongi x reader
mentions of seokjin x reader, jimin x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook wants to have sex. No one is surprised. But he has… reasons. Are they good reasons? Debatable. However, there’s something in his way. A Magic-8 ball that seems to relish in cock-blocking him. Nah, it says. Hmph, well, guess what, ball? Like a criminal undercover, Jeon Jungkook is going to steal you and then there’s no one and nothing to stop him from getting what he needs.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; tbh, slightcrack; JK talks to the Magic-8 ball and himself way too much; somehow Park Jimin is involved; Min Yoongi is confirmed to be sex on legs; smut (fem reader, very minor D/s dynamics, m-masturbation while watching sex in the kitchen, edging / orgasm denial, m and f-receiving oral, vibrator use, multiple orgasms, nipple play, ~~forearm kink~~, sucking on both balls at the same time, hair-pulling kink, penetrative sex); noona!reader; Jungkook’s POV

no, I don’t know how this got to 14k+ words, this was just supposed to be a funny idea and now we’re here, I am excessive, I know

–

“Um…”

“Same question?”

He almost flinched at the succinct, matter-of-fact quip. “Y… Yeah.”

The door closed right in his face.

Jeon Jungkook shoved his hands into his sleeves and sucked on the inside of his cheek, aimlessly occupying himself in the seconds he waited. He stopped sucking on his cheek the moment the door opened again. Same woman, rumpled and perfectly messy hair, big black t-shirt dress with a black and white striped long-sleeve under it, bare legs, feet tucked into furry brown slippers with a small embordered cookie motif on them.

In her hands, a black plastic sphere.

Inwardly, Jungkook groaned.

She shook it.

Frowned, and turned the screen around for him to look.

Nah, said the white text on the triangle trapped in hazy blue liquid.

Inwardly, Jungkook screamed in frustration, wanting to snatch the Magic-8 ball and chuck it out the window.

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging casually.

“Oh… Okay.”

She bowed lightly and closed the door, but not as sharply this time. Gentler and turning away from him slowly. Her eyes didn’t linger too long. It was probably for the best, because Jungkook would feel even worse.

The door closed in his face and Jungkook wrung his sleeves, flinging the ends of his black, oversized shirt into the air in silent rage. He balled the fabric up in his fists and jammed them into his closed eyes, forcing the angry tears back, never hating a hunk of plastic so much in his entire life. The twenty-sixth time he had asked this question.

Every single time, this stupid fucking piece-of-shit 8-ball gave him a different quirky variation of refutation.

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, backed away from the bedroom door.

“W-Will you have s-s-sex with me?”

That was the question. Stutters and all.

She had blinked slowly, staring at him for a full ten seconds. Then she asked, “I’m sorry, but will you please explain again why you are asking me to have sex with you?”

Yes, why was Jungkook asking the hot girl that lived in Kim Seokjin’s house to fuck him?

Although it sounded complicated, it wasn’t really. Kim Seokjin was one of his hyungs who lived in a massive house. His parents were loaded, but traveled a lot due to their work. Now that Seokjin was older, well, naturally, it would be socially and financially beneficial to rent out this home with too many bedrooms to his friends if they needed a place to stay. Firstly, it meant the introverted hyung never had to leave his home if he actually wanted company. Secondly, it meant chores could be divided among the tenants, meaning Seokjin never ever had to clean a toilet again as long as he cooked and occasionally did the grocery shop. Thirdly, it meant that if Seokjin wanted to avoid interaction, he could lock himself in the master bedroom on the top floor and tell everyone to go away or he would kick them out.

Work smarter, not harder, Seokjin-hyung liked to say.

Now, why did this particular woman who owned the cursed Magic-8 ball live here?

Park Jimin, one of the temporary tenants, had the answers for Jungkook.

“Oh,her? Haha, get this. Once time, hyung came back with her and another girl with huge tits. Massive. I’m talking melons. I can say that because she literally called them melons. Multiple times. Anyway, Melon girl was kinda drunk, hyung was a lil tipsy, but she was totally sober. And…”

Jimin nudged Jungkook, cradling his hand over his mouth, whispering with glee.

“I’m one-hundred percent sure a threesome happened that night and I’m a thousand-percent sure that noona was the one who was directing everything.”

Jungkook blinked at that angelic face describing a less-than-holy act.

“… Were you trying to eavesdrop outside hyung’s bedroom?”

Jimin snorted. “No. No, of course not. Psh, no. What do you think I am, Jungkook? A heathen?” Those full lips twisted into an affronted pout. “That stupid door is so damn thick. Real wood, for sure. Hmph. Rich-ass prince.”

It didn’t really explain why the woman with the cursed Magic-8 ball was here, but also, it did.

“Anyway, she moved in a week later. Better rent, she said. Melon lady went to school in New York though. How depressing for all of us,” Jimin sighed. “She was only on break for a short while.”

Little did Jungkook know that this noona would become rather important because, some weeks later, he was standing in front of her bedroom door asking the question. Jungkook did not live in this big house, but at this point he might as well have been. He was here far too often these days, asking Jimin questions. Er. Something very upsetting had happened to him. He had needed answers.

Jimin provided him with, well, something.

Jungkook coughed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Erm… well.”

She blinked slowly, waiting for his answer on why he wanted to have sex with her.

“J-Jimin said it might be a good idea…”

She stared at him. “What does Park Jimin have to do with anything?”

Yes, that would be the natural question, wouldn’t it?

“Ah, h-he said… that you helped him at one point. With sex… stuff.”

This was getting super awkward, not because she was awkward, but because Jungkook was trying to avoid being too specific. He didn’t want her to feel like he was talking behind her back. However, she surprised him completely by saying, “Yeah, he was trying to figure out what sex toys to introduce into the bedroom and how to feel like they were not his enemy, so we experimented a bit to find toys and a headspace he enjoyed.”

Jungkook tried to not shrink into the sofa at the explanation. “Y… Yeah….”

She tilted her head at him. “That doesn’t explain your interest in me though.”

“W-Well, I…. I need h-help.”

He flinched as if physically slapped.

Saying it out loud made it real.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

He bit his lip and looked back up at her, seeing the way she gazed back at him. Not judging, simply genuinely curious and confused. She was sitting on the armchair in the living room, holding a soft plush of a pink bunny and her phone in the other, previously poking around on it before he had sat down and interrupted, taking this chance of Seokjin being upstairs playing video games and the other tenants being out of the house to ask this question. She was wearing a big white hoodie, her bare legs tucked under a thick black blanket with a pattern of miniature red devils cheekily doing various innocently evil things.

“Um… my last girlfriend broke up with me because I fuck like a robot.” He swallowed, feeling the hard lump forming in his throat, unease and bitterness. “Not just once apparently. All the time. And…” He winced, balling his hands into fists on his thighs. “The one before that said something similar.”

“And the one before that?”

He wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.

“We didn’t… fuck. But she said I was a bad kisser.”

“Everyone is aa bad kiss and a bad fuck the first time. Hell, the first couple years. I wouldn’t beat yourself up over it.”

He frowned and searched her face for the lie, but she simply smiled calmly back, gently rubbing the head of the pink bunny in her lap. For some reason, Jungkook wanted to fling the bunny aside and put his head there instead.

Huh?

That was a weird thought.

“But you’re not bad.”

She laughed. “Years of practice, young apprentice.” Her lips curved into a playful smirk, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I might actually be awful. You never know.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, frown becoming into a pout. “You have to be good. Yoongi-hyung and you fuck all the time.”

She blinked twice, swiveling her head sharply.

“Pardon? What does Min Yoongi have to do with this?”

He scratched the back of his head. Didn’t she know? “Yoongi-hyung never, ever has sex with someone more than once. That’s his rule.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Jungkook shrugged. “That’s what he said.” He mimicked his hyung’s deep, generally impassive voice. “You only need to fuck once. Every time afterword is the same or worse. What’s the point of fucking more than once? It’s a waste of time. But Jimin says you go to Yoongi-hyung’s room or vice-versa at least every week. You have to be crazy good if that’s the case.”

She suddenly jerked her head and stared in the direction of the back of the house where the spare bedrooms were. He saw a myriad of emotions play over her expressive features before she scrunched up her face and mumbled under her breath. Jungkook caught, I do have a certain philosophy, but I didn’t realize… Really? He thinks that, huh? I should ask…

“N-Noona…?”

She jumped a little, blinking at him. “Oh. Right. Well, it would be really arrogant of me if I sat here and said, yeah, I’m fucking fantastic at fucking.”

That’s true, Jungkook thought.

She shrugged.

“I am, though.”

Those sinful lips framed the tip of a devious tongue, playful smirk taunting him.

“I’m an excellent, passionate, wild, rough fuck. Complete opposite of a robot, honestly.”

Jungkook pulled an even bigger pout, furrowing his brows, determination flaring.

“Teach me.”

She let out a big exhale, suddenly standing up.

“Wait here.”

He gawked at those bare legs, shapely and swift, juicy thighs disappearing into the hem of the hoodie. She disappeared for less than a minute, anxious moments of him shoving his hands into his sleeves and tapping his foot, eagerly awaiting her return.

Then she came back with the cursed hunk of plastic.

Oh, innocent him back then, not knowing how fucking horrible that piece-of-shit Magic-8 ball was.

“I’m going to shake this. If it says yes, we fuck. If it says no, you have to wait at least three days before you can ask me to shake the ball again. Deal?”

Why did you nod, Jeon Jungkook? You stupid dumbass.

He grinned.

“Deal.”

She shook it and it said, Nope, not today.

“Hm. Sorry. Next time.”

Yeah.

Next time.

More like, twenty-sixth time and he was still reading, Nah.

“I hate that stupid ball. I want to smash it with a baseball bat, run it over, throw it into the abyss, go down into the abyss, and then hurl it to the moon.”

“Shit, bro, it’s a children’s toy,” Jimin laughed.

Jungkook grunted and threw Jimin’s pillow over his face, yelling incoherently into it.

“Oi, stop that,” Jimin sighed, yanking the pillow away. “What’s this business about the Magic-8 ball anyway? Can’t you just stand there and give her puppy eyes until she submits to your will?”

“No.”

“Huh?”

Jungkook pulled a face and let out a big sigh. “She never treats me any differently. I act tough, she’s the same polite noona. I act cute, she’s the same polite noona. I act pathetic, she’s the same fucking polite-as-fuck noona.” He groaned and smacked his fist into Jimin’s bed, not thinking about what else – or who else – had been smacked into this bed. That was too harrowing of a thought. “Yoongi-hyung’s dick must have her under some kinda spell, because I’m literally right here ready to drop my pants and she’s absolutely not budging on this Magic-8 ball agreement.”

“Damn, maybe you’re right. Hyung’s magic wand-dick must be the reason why everyone thinks he’s sex on legs, because it’s certainly not because of his resting bitch face.”

Jungkook didn’t have the energy to even chortle at Jimin’s joke. “I can’t believe my luck is so fucking bad. This has to be a world record.”

“Why don’t you steal it?”

Jungkook stared at the ceiling.

“What?”

“Steal the Magic-8 ball and yeet that bitch,” Jimin chirped.

Jungkook bolted up from the bed.

“Wuh… Steal it?”

Jimin put his hands up, shrugging. “Yeah, I mean… If you take it and it’s gone, then what?”

Jungkook blinked quickly, glancing at his shortest hyung with the full lips and fluffy black hair. “I… I dunno. I never thought about it.”

“So, let’s say you take the ball. She goes to look for it like usual, can’t find it, and then…?”

He followed the circling of Jimin’s small hands, moving from one side to another. “… And then?”

Jimin clapped his hands together. “Nakey time!”

He furrowed his brows, now hesitant and unsure. “Hm… can it be that easy?”

Jimin laughed, shrugging. “I dunno, but the Magic-8 ball is cockblocking you, so you if you forcibly remove it from the equation, you have already improved your chances of banging the pussy seduced by the magic-wand-dick.”

On one hand, Jungkook doubted she would simply give up on the game.

On the other hand, that hunk of plastic was a cursed object.

“Alright. I’m going to steal it.”

“Secret-agent-mission-impossible Jeon Jungkook about to embark on his most difficult self-assignment yet. Actually, you’re less of a secret agent and more like a criminal undercover. No different from a common burglar, really.”

“Shut up, Jimin.”

Yes, well, saying something and actually doing it were two different things.

The plan was pretty simple, which was about as much as Jungkook could handle. He was a liberal arts guy (at least that’s what his university degree said). Following instructions was not his vibe. He was better at this off-the-cuff kind of stuff. Also, his (unwelcome but necessary) partner-in-crime was none other than Park Jimin, and Park Jimin didn’t read instructions ninety-percent of the time, thus explaining why he didn’t cook.

“You can’t search the house when everyone is at work,” Jimin scolded him.

“Why?”

“Because you also have a job, Jungkook.”

“Eh, I can take a day off.”

“You cannot take a day off to increase your potential of getting laid. Not even actually getting laid. Just increasing your chances.”

Jungkook grumbled but accepted that it might not be the best use of his sick time.

“Also, Seokjin-hyung has an alarm system. He arms it when we’re at work. If you’re not a resident, you’ll trip it.”

“So give me your key.”

“He has cameras, dummy,” Jimin sighed as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Funnily enough, you don’t exactly look like me.”

Jungkook snickered. “Is it the tattoos or the obvious difference in height?”

A brief intermission was taken as Jimin attempted to commit homicide right in Kim Seokjin’s home. Bickering ensued. Hands were thrown. Unfortunately for Jimin, Jungkook was trained in self-defense and pinned him down pretty quickly.

“Anyway,” Jimin growled as he detached his teeth from Jungkook’s forearm to force the younger man to release him, completely ignoring Jungkook’s what-the-fuck-you-freaky-little-imp expression. “There’s four of us who live here right now. Seokjin-hyung, Yoongi-hyung, Magic-8 ball noona, and, the most well-behaved and polite of them all, me.”

“Don’t associate that plastic hunk of evil with her.”

Jimin gave him an offended look at the lack of acknowledgment to his own title but gave up, moving along. “Why you so hung up about this, huh? It’s not like you can’t fuck some other hottie. You just have to shift in age range. The older they are, the more likely they have more experience. Easy.”

Jungkook grunted.

Jimin raised his eyebrows.

He stuck his tongue out and messed with his lip ring. “This is a lot easier. I don’t need to worry about her being some kinda serial killer or some shit. And.”

A beat of silence.

Jimin appeared under Jungkook’s chin, grinning like a madman. “Annnnnnnd?”

Jungkook grimaced. “You said…” He looked away quickly, sucking the inside of his cheek.

He shouldn’t say anything more.

Jimin prodded him insistently, poking at Jungkook’s temple.

The younger man clenched his jaw, speaking between gritted teeth. “You said she put both of your nuts in her mouth and sucked on them at the same time.”

“Aha! You’re a pervert!”

“What?!” Jungkook roared, throwing himself back. “I’m a pervert? I am?! You suggested it! You’re a pervert!”

Jimin grinned.

“Of course, I suggested it. She’s got that cool and calm vibe, plus she’s basically a porn star in bed. You’re way too scared to go for sexy on your own, even though that’s way more your type than those other girls you dated.”

Jungkook found his jaw flapping uselessly. “W-What the fuck are you talking about, I’m not scared–”

“Oh, yeah, you are. You literally ran in the other direction when she came out her room in that slinky black dress and leather trench coat when she was going to that concert with Yoongi-hyung last week. Probably had a giant boner too.”

His ears were on fire. “B-B-Bullshit!”

“Oh, you want to get me started on the literal obsessive way you stare at her hands when they’re resting on the kitchen countertop, with your mouth kinda open and your round peepers all big, waiting for her to move so you can put your hand in the same place hers was seconds before–”

Jungkook slapped his hand over Jimin’s mouth.

A bird cawed outside.

“Anyway,” Jungkook hissed, pointedly glaring to indicate that particular discussion was over. “So, I can’t search during work. Why don’t you look for it? You live here.”

Jimin peeled the tattooed hand off his mouth to speak. With much effort, because Jungkook was wary of the definitely, absolutely, totally untrue nonsense that could come out of those full lips. It happened just now… obviously.

“Uh, no, this is your problem. I’m not getting involved in yourproblem.”

Jungkook stared at him.

Jimin fluttered his eyelashes.

Jungkook thinned his eyes and mouth into lines.

“Here, so tomorrow Seokjin-hyung is leaving for a production for a couple weeks,” Jimin barreled on, launching into the (very basic) plan. “He’s going to stay on site because of rehearsals and stuff. We won’t have to worry about his comings and goings. Yoongi-hyung and noona basically have the same schedule. They go to work and come back to do nothing. But, when Seokjin-hyung isn’t here, Yoongi-hyung and her cook together.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows.

Jimin wiggled his. “It’s good for us.”

“Is it?” Jungkook grunted.

“It’s not like hyung doesn’t know you’re on your… twenty-sixth try. He’s cool with it.”

He felt a muscle in his upper eyelid twitch. “Did hyung have to ask twenty-six times?”

Jimin shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s sex on legs, remember?”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“It was something Taehyung said ages ago because some girl called Yoongi-hyung that and he thought it was hilarious.”

Jungkook gave Jimin a questioning look. Jimin patted his arm.

“You had to be there, dude.” He rubbed his chin, shifting focus as Jungkook sat with question marks over his head. “If we’re here, they’ll cook for us, but noona’s room is basically right next to the kitchen. If we try to go in her bedroom, she’ll definitely see. It would be better if we leave while they’re cooking.”

“If we leave, we can’t search.”

“No, no. I’llleave.You stay in my room and wait.”

Jungkook frowned. “Huh?”

Jimin looked exasperated.

The lightbulb suddenly sprung up over Jungkook’s head. “Oh! Oh, I see, I’ll come over in the evening, and we say we’re going out to eat or something, but you’ll be the only one actually leaving, and I’ll stay and look for it.” Then he scrunched up his face, lightbulb flickering slightly. “But that doesn’t change that fact that they’ll be in the kitchen. Hyung and noona can still see the entrance of her room.”

“Yeah, if they’re looking. They’re not gonna be looking.”

“Why not?”

Frustrated, Jimin sliced the air with his hands. “Hello? Nobody home for at least a couple hours? Magic-wand-dick with magic-wand-dick seductress in the same place at the same time? What do you think they’re going to do?”

Jungkook blinked slowly.

“Cook food?”

After some self-reflection and inner soul-searching, Jungkook did eventually come to the conclusion that two hot, horny people left alone would most likely not be cooking.

At least for some of the time.

Now he was paralyzed.

Because it was one thing to know, but whole other thing to be there.

“Yoongi…”

His back against the wall, staring at the bedroom door that closed in his face so many times, and, right around the corner, he could hear a breathless moan and a deep chuckle. His one-track mind suddenly off the rails the second he heard their kiss. Mischievous murmurs, mixed breath and dancing tongue. His heart thudded against his chest as he heard the sound of moving fabric and satisfied sighs, and Jeon Jungkook finally asked himself – what am I doing?

And then he heard his name.

“When are you going to give Jungkook what he wants?”

A low hum, shadowed by kisses on skin.

“When the ball says yes.”

They… talk about me?

“So cruel. Just give it to him. He’s a good kid.”

“You know that’s not how I do things, Yoongi.”

Jungkook felt his breath catch in his throat. Sparks all over his skin, abruptly too hot under his baggy charcoal shirt and black pants, suddenly realizing he was moving closer to the corner instead of closer to the door, his breath stilling, soundless steps to the sinful sound, his fingers spreading out over the wall, the words on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t say them so instead he whispered to the corners of his mind.

How do you do things, then?

“How do you do things, then?” the raspy, lustful voice of Min Yoongi purred.

Jungkook turned his head, pressing his hot cheek against the wall.

“Like this.”

Jungkook peeked over the corner.

He heard the groan and then he saw it. The closed eyes of his hyung, his head tipped back, layers of black hair spilling in the air, her left hand poised on Yoongi’s throat. Index fingernail digging into his chin, thumb next to his Adam’s apple, the rest spread out over his neck, caressing the fair skin as her head moved down, the sound of kisses and tongue over Yoongi’s bare chest, leaving glistening lines of saliva visible in the kitchen’s overhead lighting. Yoongi’s back arched over the counter, his exhale deepening, arms and fingers spreading out over the granite, gasping as her tongue flickered over his dark nipple.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, heartbeat accelerating.

Her fingers curved, wrapping around his hyung’s throat.

Yoongi’s lips parted, breathing out her name in a low hiss.

Jungkook felt his cock twitch, immediately occupying all that loose space in the crotch of his pants.

Her tongue shifted to her own forearm, tracing a line of saliva up, up, Yoongi’s head falling back, constricted breath drifting out in heavy pants, and then their lips connected in a heated kiss, her hair curling against her bare back, the kitchen island blocking Jungkook’s view of the lower half of their bodies.

Her body shifted and Jungkook spied the top half of her juicy, full, naked ass.

He snapped back over the corner, sliding his right hand over his mouth so he didn’t make a goddamn peep. The threatening moan bubbling in his chest could have been both embarrassing and revealing of his position. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have looked. That was a private moment between two people and he shouldn’t have–

Jungkook clenched his jaw and soundlessly whimpered behind his fingers as he pressed his left hand onto his hard-on, trying to get it to calm the fuck down.

He heard Yoongi pant, “Fuck, already going that deep, hah?”

Jungkook clutched his erection and squeezed it harshly, telling it to shut up, it’s not you, stop getting excited over nothing, you delusional idiot, but he could hear the sounds of tongue and lips, of wetness and desire, of Yoongi’s moans and hers getting stuffed back into her throat, and he was rolling his hips into his own hand, his cheeks burning as he felt the pre-cum dripping into his underwear, slick against the sensitive head, his eyes squeezing shut, and he could see her face, maybe even feel her tongue, this is so wrong but I can’t stop, throbs of pleasure racing up his torso and down his legs, running his hand up and down on his pulsing length, I’m so fucking hard, holyfuck, the sounds getting louder, messier, imagining her tongue flickering out and ghosting his balls mid-thrust and Jungkook suddenly tensed his shoulders, gripping his cock viciously hard and locking his hips.

He heard Yoongi hiss her name and her loud, audible swallowing.

Jungkook screamed in his head as he cut off his own orgasm and tried not to make a noise, his whimper thrashing against his ribcage next to his pounding heart.

A mischievous, deep chuckle and Jungkook could imagine the way Yoongi ran his fingers through his long messy black hair, pushing it away from his smirking face to look downwards.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth.”

There was a flurry of noise, probably changing positions, and Jungkook threw himself off the wall and turned the handle of her bedroom door as silently as he could, slipping into the room and pressing his body flat against the wall, closing the door just as quietly.

He winced, feeling his boxer briefs soaked in pre-cum.

Don’t listen, don’t listen, don’t listen.

He heard a smokey, drawn-out moan of Yoongi’s name.

Jungkook jerked his body away from the wall, shuddering. He was not about to jack off in her bedroom. That was much too cliché to be doing, even for him. He forced himself to look up.

“H… Holy shit…”

It was a neat room, but it was strangely crammed with a ton of colorful things. Soft plushies with cute faces from various franchises, colorful albums stacked side by side between them, hanging keychains on clear hooks on the wall. She seemed to have a thing for plush sheep in pastel colors. The fluffy little guys were placed all over the room. Lilac, plush pink, mint, sky blue, cute little smiles and soft-looking horns, perched on shelves and on top of a huge yellow sheep Pokémon with a blue face. That one had to be at least a meter long.

There was also a big Snorlax sitting on the floor. Jungkook knew the name of that Pokémon.

“Uh…”

There was a myriad of knickknacks too. On the desk, a light purple standing CD player, rolls of washi tape, memo pads, and colorful brush markers. He noticed that the colors were muted, either desaturated darker shades or light pastel. He didn’t expect her to have so many cute things. She primarily wore black with only a handful of other colors, but, upon closer inspection, he could see the reflection of her in select, careful choices scattered about. Black leather notebooks, a hanging keychain of a black skull with a blank white tag, a strange velvet box shaped like a coffin. Curious, Jungkook opened it, seeing a collection of silver rings with ram skull motifs on them.

He recognized them because he stared at her hands a lot.

“No, I don’t,” Jungkook whispered under his breath to absolutely no one.

He closed the box and carefully put it back.

There were small memo sheets taped onto the shelf above the desk. They had small cats drawn onto them, doing things that corresponded to what was scrawled onto them. Do laundry on Friday. Pick up package from post office. In-office work next Tuesday. One of them had a cat struggling to carry a huge hunk of cartoon meat with the bone in it. Grocery shop tomorrow – ask if JK is spending the weekend, will need extra meat. Underneath the initials of JK was a bunny head drawn in pink pen with stars as eyes.

“Why am I pink?” he asked to absolutely no one.

Jungkook suddenly heard a very loud, “Mmm, fuck, Yoongi!”

He jumped and scurried about, scanning the room quickly. Better hurry. He had no idea how long they were going to, uh, fuck on the counter, wait where they actually, maybe I should go see, no, no, Jungkook, focus, find the ball, looking about the room, find the ball, seeing the unmade bed with the thick black velvet duvet, isn’t that sweaty or does she sleep naked, stop right there, think about that later tonight, to the tuxedo cat plush next to the pillows. It was strangely sitting up even though the covers were thrown back, clearly carefully placed before leaving the bed. Weird. Sateen black sheets and pillowcases. And then his eyes fell onto the dark wood nightstand with a hanging black sconce.

Most people had books, a cup for water, perhaps lip balm.

She had a plush Grim Reaper with a fluffy white sheep beside it, a pile of condoms, and a Magic-8 ball right next to her bed.

“What.”

Again, no one was there to respond to Jungkook’s confusion.

Upon seeing the black plastic ball, however, his eyes narrowed. He scowled at it. Raised his hand and mimed shooting it. Why not? It wasn’t bulletproof or anything.

You stupid piece of shit.Time to get your just deserts.

Then he heard the doorknob turn.

He threw himself to the hardwood floor and immediately slid his entire body into the closest hiding spot. Never had he moved so fast. Must have been a damn record. Too bad no one but an army of plushies was here to witness his amazing disappearing act.

“You don’t want to fuck on the bed?” she was saying as the door opened.

On the bed? Jungkook screamed in his head, clutching the sparse dust bunnies under the bed. You can’t be serious, I’m gonna have to lay here and listen to you guys fuck right above my head? There isn’t even space to jack off down here!

“We can fuck on your bed when they get back. No, I want to get something. Stay here.”

When they get back, Jungkook scowled as he saw Yoongi’s pale feet walk past. Rub it into my face some more why don’t you, hyung, stupid sex on legs–

“The Magic-8 ball?” she asked.

Jungkook felt cold sweat break out on his back.

“You never use this thing on me.”

“That’s because I shake your balls and they always say yes to me even if your mouth is saying no.”

Jungkook’s cheeks heated, cooking his face against the hardwood. His hard dick was mashed between his body and the floor. Great. Awesome. Not now, bro. This was too much. He was getting sweaty in the tight space and his dick was refusing to listen to reason. What else is new?

“We’ll see how cocky you remain after I’m done with you.”

Jungkook heard the drawer of the nightstand open, some rustling, and then.

A humming sound.

“Oh?” A devious snicker. “Here?”

Please not here, I will literally cum on your floor under your bed.

“Nah. Get on the kitchen counter. I have to prepare my meal.”

“So dirty, Yoongi.”

Jungkook faceplanted into the wood as he heard them leave.

His hyung had definitely been carrying a vibrator.

He stayed there for a full minute before yanking his body out from under the bed, face on fire, snatching the Magic-8 ball from the nightstand and slinking along to the floor, reaching for the door handle.

Don’t look, Jungkook.

He opened the door and slunk into the hallway, closing it silently behind him. They weren’t going to hear him. She was moaning in the kitchen, a coaxing hum getting loud. There was a sucking sound of wetness accompanying it.

Jungkook made it halfway down to Jimin’s room before he and the cursed hunk of plastic slithered back to the corner closest to the kitchen.

He peered over the edge.

Saw her head thrown back, hair messy and shoulders tense, sitting on the kitchen counter with her legs spread wide open. Yoongi between them, pressing a mint-colored silicone device against her pussy, his pushed-back black hair against her plush thigh, his smirk visible in his profile.

“Don’t close your legs.”

“Not a fucking chance,” she gasped, her muscles flexing, nipples hard and perky breasts pointing upwards as she slid back a little in ecstasy, crying out, the loud squelch indicating her release, and Jungkook held his breath as he witnessed the shiny, glossy splatter against mint silicone and the inside of her thighs.

Yoongi’s hand shifted, revealing the puffy slick lips of her pussy, throbbing with the force of orgasm. He leaned in and Jungkook listened to her breathless moan as his hyung licked it all up, messy and loud, the sound echoing throughout the kitchen. A shudder flickered throughout her body, her fingers tensing on the countertop, dragging along the granite.

“Give in?” Yoongi drawled, deeper in his Daegu satoori.

“No,” she growled down at his hyung.

“Again then.”

Jungkook sank to the floor, gripping the Magic-8 ball and thrusting his hips into the floor in silent frustration, knowing he couldn’t take much more of this, but he was doing it to himself, and he had no idea why. Ugh, there was just something so good and so bad about it, rolling over and running his fingers over his rock-hard, ignored length trapped under layers of fabric, his dreams and his reality mixing together, so close yet so far, just wait a couple more days, you can wait a couple more days, the weekend is right around the corner…

He crawled back to Jimin’s room, clutching the Magic-8 ball and the last shreds of his dignity.

“How was the mission?”

Jungkook held up the Magic-8 ball.

“Nice!”

He grunted and shoved the plastic sphere back under him, remaining face-down in Jimin’s bed.

“Uh… You okay, bro?”

Jungkook remained unmoving.

“… Bro?”

“I hate you.”

The Magic-8 ball, understandably, said nothing.

Jungkook glared at it. It remained innocently sitting in the middle of his bed, in his apartment with no working air-conditioning unit, which was not a problem right now, but, come summertime, he was going to be complaining every night and escaping to Seokjin-hyung’s house for a sweat-free sleep. The offensive hunk of plastic was completely still, the little circular window revealing the triangular thingy inside it that currently read, I don’t think so.

He squinted angrily at it. “You caused me a lot of trouble. I should throw you away. I could do it right now,” he threatened to absolutely no one because the Magic-8 ball was not sentient. It was just a plastic children’s toy. Jungkook just needed it to know it was hated. “Everyone knows about you, everyone knows it’s all your fault, everyone knows you’re the one that stopped me from–”

His breath suddenly caught in his throat.

From?

Her moan echoed throughout his thoughts, invading everything.

Having sex with her.

That could have been him, in the kitchen. Not Yoongi. Him. That could have been him, leaning back with her hand around his neck, him shuddering as her tongue and lips claimed his chest, him moaning as her mouth covered his cock and slid down her throat, him, it could have been all him, but instead it was his hyung, all because of this dumb black sphere.

It was sexy though.

Watching.

“N-No, it wasn’t,” Jungkook snapped at the Magic-8 ball.

Unsurprisingly, it did not reply.

His heart raced in his chest, remembering every detail. He saw it all. He didn’t look away until he knew he couldn’t hold back his noise any longer. He didn’t want to look away. He didn’t want to back away. He had focused on every detail. Because Jungkook knew he could watch all the porn in the world, but nothing was like the real thing, something he had never experienced himself. Thundering heartbeat, irresistible attraction, need so strong that he almost abandoned the plan and announced his presence, all because…

Because.

“You could feel it,” Jungkook breathed to the air, staring into space. “Passion.”

He wouldn’t say that he hadn’t loved, but there was certainly something he had missed along the way, something he hadn’t thought about, well, how could he yearn for something never knew? He did things because he thought it was right, a good way to express love, and it was, there was no lie there. But it was never like this. Like he was ready to take risks, ready to put his neck on the line, ready to run recklessly into her arms, ready to…

Steal.

Like a robber.

Jungkook turned and stared at the top of his blankets were the Magic-8 ball sat innocently.

It had rolled and hit him in the arm.

The message had changed.

Ask again later.

“I will,” he murmured, picking it up and setting it, circular window down, onto his nightstand, next to his star projector, turning it on and staring at the colorful, artificial, rippling lights as he slipped down into his duvet, landing on his pillows with a flump.

It was quiet, all alone.

Jungkook scoffed.

“I’m crazy, huh.”

The Magic-8 ball was face down, so it was even more unresponsive than usual.

Okay. There’s no need to overthink anything.

Jungkook thought to himself as he tugged on the sleeves of his black bomber, revealing the silver chain bracelets on each wrist. Sniffed his black shirt, checking if it was clean for the eighth time. Tucked his black hair behind his ears. Felt it was awkward and flung the ends back out, covering the tops of his ears and brushing against his cheekbones. Then it pushed his hair to the right. Then the left.

Yeah.

It was going great.

Hadn’t even knocked on the door yet. Didn’t even know if she was in her room, although it was very likely. According to Jimin before he left, I saw her come out to brush her teeth and then she wandered back into her room so… unless she jumped out the window, she’s still there.

“Asking the big question?”

Jungkook jumped and his fist flew up.

Min Yoongi raised his eyebrows.

Jungkook immediately put his fist down. “H… Hey, hyung.”

The other male tilted his head, peering curiously at him with a sharp-cat-like gaze. Yoongi was wearing a black bomber jacket as well, although his had white trim and embroidered dragons in silver thread. White shirt with a small logo on the chest, loose black pants with his keys on a chain, hooked to a belt loop.

He ticked his chin to the door. “Feeling lucky?”

Jungkook scratched the back of his head. “Um…”

In his mind, the kiss between his hyung and noona came up in striking detail.

Jungkook felt his cheeks heat and a small tent pitch in his pants.

“You’re pretty persistent, hm?” Yoongi was saying, running a hand through his long black hair. “Lesser men would have given up by now.” He patted Jungkook on the arm. “That’s a good trait to have.”

There was a certain kind of terror as Jungkook glanced at Yoongi’s hand on his arm and Yoongi continued looking at the bedroom door, as if he too had a question to ask the one behind it. Then Yoongi dropped his hand, tucking it in his pocket and turning his head to face him.

Jungkook did his best to swallow his fear as those piercing dark brown eyes landed on him.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asked in that smokey, raspy Daegu satoori of his.

No. No, not at all.

Jungkook opened his mouth and nothing came out.

Yoongi tilted his head.

He attempted to speak once more. “Where are you going today, h-hyung?”

“Me?” The older man blinked slowly. “Dunno. Wander about I guess.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows, puzzlement eating away at his nervousness. “Why?”

Yoongi gave him a pointed stare.

Then he smiled.

Actually, it was more of a smirk.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s unease came torrenting back.

“See you, Jungkook.”

“W-Wait, hyung–”

But Yoongi was already turning his back on him and the bedroom door was opening.

“Who is having a conversation out here – Jungkook?”

“N-Noona!”

She blinked at him, holding her phone in one hand and the door handle in the other. Wearing black silk pajama shorts and a big black sweater with a white cat face that had angry eyebrows on a rather neutral expression. “Uh, yeah. This is my room. Thought you knew that. This is the twenty-sixth time you’ve been standing here and the twenty-seventh that you’ll ask the question.”

He stared at her; eyes wide.

“You’ve been counting?”

She stared back with an ambiguous, vague expression.

A bird cawed outside.

The front door closed and locked, indicating Min Yoongi was gone, leaving Jeon Jungkook and his noona all alone in a big, empty house in the middle of the day during the weekend.

“… Same question?” she asked plainly.

Wait. She’s been counting. She’s aware. She knows. Of course, she knows. She literally talked about you with Yoongi. What… What’s going on? She… And then the memory of her moan, her head tipped back, her breasts and hard nipples, the ripple of orgasm visibly traveling through her body, down, down to pale hands and black hair, to Yoongi and that could be you, Jungkook. You.

“U-Um.”

She didn’t move, waiting patiently in front of him.

Jungkook reached out.

His fingers brushed her sweater, just under her shoulder. She turned her head, looking down at his tattooed fingers against black knit fabric. Warmth and softness at his fingertips. So close. All this time, so close.

Almost.

His.

“Uh…”

She raised her eyebrows, understandably looking confused as fuck.

Jungkook withdrew his hand quickly. “Erm. Sorry. Sorry, ah.” He shook his head roughly, wincing. “Look, um, I…” He stumbled once more, tongue-tied. “Ah…” Lifted his head, finding he inquisitive gaze, his heart galloping in his chest, absolutely rampant in his ribcage. “It’s rigged, isn’t it? You’re playing around with me and my feelings, aren’t you? You never intended to have sex with me, did you?”

She held his gaze. “What makes you say that?”

He scoffed, feeling something fall down and crush his heart, biting back the sting of pain. “Well, I mean–the ball, Yoongi-hyung and you… anyone can… can tell…” Why? Why is it so hard to breathe? “And… the way… you touch him…”

His words died in the sudden helpless feeling that ate him inside out.

“I touch everyone like that when we’re fucking,” she said gently.

“Hah…” He wanted to believe it, but, no, there was no way that could be possible.

“I’ll touch you like that if we fuck, Jungkook.”

Her face remained calm and collected, and Jungkook felt himself fall apart little by little, crumbling in the eye of the storm, he had come so far, number twenty-seven, come on, if the answer is no, the answer is no, just give it up, I can’t do this anymore, because I…

Her eyes flickered downwards but quickly returned, a sterling resilience in them.

“You didn’t tell me you have those feelings.”

Jungkook felt a shudder shimmer through him.

“You got me feeling like a psycho, noona,” he breathed.

She smiled.

His heart did am uncomfortable flutter and faceplant.

“Ask me the question,” she purred.

Smooth like butter.

What a dainty smile with the perfect hint of naughtiness. He wanted to scream in frustration and triumph, but that would be alarming, so instead Jungkook screamed in his head and asked the question at a normal volume.

“Will you have sex with me?”

He knew what was going to happen next. The door was going to close in his face and she was going to go looking for the Magic-8 ball that wasn’t there. Then he would have to play it cool and–

“I will.”

What.

Jungkook blinked. “W-Wait, don’t you have to get the thing?” he sputtered.

Her head cocked, strands of hair falling down her shoulder. “The thing?”

He made a spherical shape with his hands, wringing them in mild panic. “The cursed ball thingy.” Shook his hands in the air, miming the familiar action. “Then it says no, and you…” Trembling breath, twenty-six memories playing back-to-back on warp speed, making him nauseous in his head. “Y-You walk away from me.”

She raised her eyebrows.

Tipped her head to one side, whispering under her breath. Jungkook caught – I seem to have scarred him, I didn’t think he cared that much, I should have been more attentive, you fool, get it together… Then she jerked her head, startling him and forcing him to snap to attention at her direct gaze.

“I don’t have it.”

“E… Eh?”

She clicked her tongue, twisting her lips to one side. “I don’t have the Magic-8 ball. Dunno where it went. I thought I knocked it over, but I checked under the bed and everything. I don’t know where it rolled off to.” She shrugged. “I’m not one to lose things, especially stuff people gave me.”

He frowned, confused.

“It was a gift?”

Oh, shit.I stole a gift?!

“Yeah, Jimin gave it to me,” she sighed, shaking her head.

Jungkook’s frown instantly evaporated.

There was a silence so barren that it was completely possible for a tumbleweed to blow past.

Jungkook placed his knuckle on his forehead and rubbed a slow circle.

“Jimin-ssi, huh?” he squeezed out between clenched teeth.

“Yup.”

He let out a pressurized exhale equivalent to a small volcanic eruption. “So… if you never had the Magic-8 ball, you wouldn’t…. You wouldn’t have denied me all this time?”

“Mmm, I think I would have changed it to flipping a coin or something.”

He raised his head. A coin? A fifty-fifty chance rather than whatever-the-fuck chance he had going on before? What the fuck?! He was going to murderJimin!

She leaned against the doorframe, looking thoughtful. “I think I would have always added some small element of chance to it, considering, well.” She chuckled softly, smiling up at him.

Thought of homicide slipped away, replaced by that endearing smile with sparkling playfulness, an almost smirk that filled his heart with a weird kind of warmth.

“C… Considering what?”

She gave him a rueful pout. “Considering it’s a little suspicious, isn’t it? Someone as attractive and hot as you, claiming some silly girls said you fucked like a robot? First,” she continued, raising her fist with her pinky outstretched. “You don’t seem like the type to care about what others think about you.”

“I-I-It’s sex! How am I supposed to feel when someone says something like that?” he sputtered, ears burning at her compliment. She said I’m hot! And then, what the, am I a teenager, why am I getting worked up over something like that? Yet his blood pumped harder anyway, excitement and anticipation spurred on by the praise.

She shrugged, ghost of a smirk on her lips. “Okay. Two,” she added, ring finger popping up. Her expression sharpened. “It feels like you only picked me for easy access. Because I live here.”

“B-But Jimin said–”

Her eyes narrowed, piercing.

Jungkook shut up.

Don’t tell her about the nuts thing.

The silence was too long. She scrutinized him silently but then continued, seemingly letting it slide. Her middle finger raised with the other two.

“Three. Seems like you have a noona kink.”

His cheeks felt like they had been thrown into right into a volcano.

“I-I-I don’t – you fuck Yoongi!”

She blinked.

Veeery slowly.

Now Jungkook wanted to throw himself into a volcano.

“… Hyung. Y-Yoongi-hyung,” he squeaked.

Mmm, mmm, mmm. Yes, adding the honorific here will save you.

Her expression contorted a little and her index finger half-raised before Jungkook’s hand shot out and grabbed hers, cramming all the fingers back down to her palm, panic coursing through him, oh my God, this is all going to shit, “Ah, j-just, no more fingers, I’m sorry, yes, I have a noona kink, whatever it takes, I don’t fucking know, okay, it’s not because you’re easy access, it’s because I really, truly, never felt so much desire for a person in my life and you haven’t even touched me, but y-you’re the only one that has never made me want and I don’t know how it happened, it drives me crazy, your…”

His breath caught in his throat.

His fingertips caressed the back of her knuckles.

“Hands.”

His eyes slowly, slowly shifted up, to hers, to a smile with a shadow of deviousness that made his heart race.

“Your hands.”

He held on, maybe the only time he would ever touch her hand after this disaster of a moment. “They must…” he said shakily, squeezing her hand under his. “They must make him feel so good and it’ll never…” He didn’t want to let go, but he had to.

Had to.

“It’ll never be me,” he breathed, voice breaking.

Let go.

Jungkook let go.

Her hand opened and captured his wrist.

His eyes widened.

She yanked him forward, making him stumble and collide, the soft scent of brown sugar and sweet coffee drifting up from the collar of her sweater, his lips parting and her closing the distance, pressing her thumb against his wrist, tracing the silver chain bracelet, her mouth centimeters from his.

“He likes the hands,” she chuckled, seductive and intoxicating. “But mostly Yoongi likes the kiss.”

She pressed her lips to the underside of his lower lip, right at the center.

Jungkook shivered, stunned and jumbled, almost thinking she had missed somehow, accidentally kissing the mole under his lower lip, but there was clear intention, a delicate press of such subtle sweetness that all nervousness inside him crumbled, tumbling onto the contented sigh that escaped from her lips, lost in her touch, the light presses up the side of his mouth, right to his lip ring, her breath shallowing, hitched with threads of arousal that seeped into him too, a puppet to her taste, his inhale extracting from her exhale and then her lips touched his.

She tilted her head and kissed him fully.

It was the varying pressure of tenderness and insistence, as if she was holding back, as if she was so close to breaking and smothering him with desire but she was feeding it to the slowly, building it layer by layer, flickers of tongue and whispers of moans slipping between their lips, her thumb rubbing his palm, her other fingers caressing the back of his hand, multiple sensations like sparks catching fire. Her other hand slipped under his bomber jacket, ghosting over the fabric, the oversized fit keeping air between his shirt and his body, and then she pressed down onto the small of his back, coaxing his body to hers, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Her tongue traced the entrance of his mouth, stroking his lip ring, sliding back, breathing in, humming in approval at his scent. Pressing deeply, swallowing his shivering cry. A pleased murmur and she drew back, her eyes slowly opening, smug smirk dancing on her lips.

Jungkook panted, slack-jawed.

No fucking wonder Yoongi broke his own rule. I would murder to be kissed like that again.

“What… What the hell was that?” he breathed, voice slurred and deep, suddenly aware that his Busan satoori was drawn out in as his mind swirled.

“A kiss,” she quipped playfully.

“That,” he rasped, shooting her an indignant look. “Is complete and utter bullshit. Who the fuck kisses like that?”

She smiled, enigmatic and sly. “Me.”

He narrowed his eyes, turning his hand in hers, intending to grab it tightly, but then her fingers slipped between his, intertwining and locking, palm to palm, and he held on tight, forgetting what he was going to say. She filled the silence for him, speaking softly between them.

“You have a nice kiss.”

“I… I do?”

She nodded, leisurely smile and stroking his back. “It’s earnest. Simple. No frills or tricks. Just you.”

He frowned slightly, knitting his brows together. “That… That doesn’t sound very exciting though. It’s nothing like yours, so…” He struggled, finding no word concise enough. “Dynamic. Intoxicating. Addictive.”

The side of her lips quirked up. “No one ever kiss you like that?”

He stared into her eyes, full of mirth and reflecting his wonder. Shook his head.

“Hm. No one ever wanted to fuck you like an animal, then.”

She held his hand, her other on his waist, two dancers attuned to the symphony of passion, her lashes lowering, leaning in again, murmuring his name and he found his lips breathing hers, reaching out himself, hesitant, is this my place, and her lips pressed just under his again, smile to his skin.

“Do you think I was meant to fuck you?” she mumbled.

“The Magic-8 ball didn’t think so,” Jungkook spat bitterly.

She chuckled, her laughter feathering against his chin.

“I really hate that thing,” he muttered. “It was so mean to me.”

“Mmm…” She dotted light kisses on his lips, each one a lingering wish for more, more. “There’s something about the anticipation though, isn’t there? The uncertainty, the wait, the denial, the almost and then the yes.”

Kissing him again and he was lost in it once more, more intense this time, her tongue darting into his mouth, quick and teasing, tugging on his hand in hers, rolling her body into his, layers of fabric preventing the full sensation, but there it was, the anticipation, the uncertainty, the wait, his gasp trapped in her mouth and then the sharp break of the kiss, her tightly sucking on his lower lip and immediately releasing him, sending a ripple of want through his veins, the whine tumbling out of him, the denial, the almost, and her smile, tugging him in her bedroom.

“You’ve never been in here, huh?”

His eyes shifted, seeing the familiar plushies and pastel colors mixed with flourishes of black and strangely cute occult.

“Erm…”

“You think I have too much stuff, huh?” she chuckled, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out her phone, and he started slightly, he must have been too focused on the kiss to even notice she had slipped it in there to hold him by the waist. “When I like something, I get a lot of it.” She placed her phone on her desk, gliding back to him on light steps, standing in front of him once more.

“Ah… yeah, me too, the hyungs make fun of me because I have a lot of Bluetooth speakers,” Jungkook said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “There’s a lot of choice out there.”

She ticked her head, smiling, a little death that tumbled his consciousness into a worrying mix of lust and desperation now that he had a hint of what those lips could do.

Her hand lifted.

Fingertips grazing his jaw.

He almost moaned, but bit it back, keeping eye contact.

“Sometimes there’s only one choice. One-of-a-kind.”

She smirked.

Fuck, I can’t take much more of this, I think I’m gonna cream in my pants if she keeps talking like that.

Her thumb stroked his cheekbone, her smile creeping into her eyes, glittering orbs of sweetness mixed with wickedness, like brown sugar and strong coffee, the perfume drifting off her wrist to his nose. Her middle finger toyed his earrings, the fingernail dragging down the curve of his ear.

“I don’t like half-assing anything,” she admitted, apologies in her expression. “I don’t like giving up, I don’t like giving in, and I don’t like not giving my all.”

Small snicker.

She’s so fucking pretty when she looks a little evil.

“What about you?”

Jungkook smirked back, the thrill of excitement burning strong within his core.

“Me neither.”

She grinned. “That’s good. I promise to listen to you tell me it’s too much.”

“Okay–”

Her hand glided down his jaw and outlined his neck, following the tendons and muscle. He cut himself off, eyes widening, his heart leaping into his throat, transfixed on her exploring expression. The way she looked at him, like he was tactile art, caressing his skin with her fingertips.

Her fingers wrapped around his neck.

He held his breath.

But she didn’t tighten her grip, only loosely holding, her lashes slowly lifting, seconds ticking past and then she made eye contact. Something hazy and dark in those eyes. Her lips parted, lightly licking the side of her lip.

“Sorry,” she breathed out, strangely shallow, and Jungkook found himself hanging onto every word, fascinated by the way she formed them, collected but barely so, keeping him at arm’s length. “I’m not going to choke you. I… wanted to see you like this. For myself.”

That smile, honest with a flair of mischief.

“I know it’s selfish.”

He remembered her hand around Yoongi’s throat, her fingers splayed, her nails digging into that handsome pale neck, owning it, you could own me too, his blood burning hotter, remembering her touch on someone else, and Jungkook looked down at her clothed arm extended towards him, their bodies separated by too much space. His whisper was heavy and laced with lust.

“Does it…”

Looked up, tilting his head, letting his black hair fall over one eye.

“Turn you on, noona?”

So close.

“I want to please you too,” Jungkook murmured.

She caressed his neck, nicking her fingernails against the sides of his neck, making him gasp.

“When did I please you?” she purred, dream-like, her touch, her voice, her gaze, bringing him somewhere else, her other hand dancing up his chest, rippling the fabric against his skin. “Tell me.”

“All the time.” Shivering, watching her free hand pause and rest on his chest, outlining his pecs through the jersey fabric. “Especially when I’m alone.” Her moan ringing in his ears, right there in the kitchen counter, meters away from him. “It’s so sexy, the way you move and sound, like you feel pleasure everywhere and it makes me want to feel it too, makes me want to touch myself and pretend that it’s you taking my clothes off…”

Her hand on his neck tugged and he looked up, blinking slowly, somewhere between memory and reality, but she only pushed him down slightly and tipped his chin up, forcing him in an awkward crouching position to kiss him. Slow, sensual, flicking tongue and plush lips, mumbling against his open mouth.

“Mmm, you’re such a fucking dream, a pretty face thinking such dirty things,” she purred, removing her hand from his neck and he whimpered, feeling lost, but she kissed the side of his mouth, chuckling softly. “Is there more? Tell me there’s more. Make me want you, Jungkook.”

Her hands on his shoulders, pushing down his jacket.

“I…”

She tossed it into her desk chair, taking his forearm and straightening him, running her fingers against the colorful tattoos of his inner arm.

“I see your hands,” he breathed, watching and feeling her fingertips graze the black on his inner elbow. “A-And I imagine them touching my cock. Your fingers wrapping around me and, f-fuck,” he gasped, his face burning, seeing her hand drift, skimming over his black shirt, lower. “I get so hard, it’s so w-wrong, but sometimes…”

She hovered her palm over his erection, so close, her lips against his ear because his head had fallen maybe shame, maybe need to watch, maybe both, he was going crazy, feeling like a psycho, recalling how it felt in the hallway just outside this door, stroking his leaking cock through his pants and edging himself while watching their sex in the kitchen, he was a bad boy, I shouldn’t have done that, but it had just felt so good, so fucking good that he went home and got himself off for real, thinking about it again, dragging down his cum-soaked underwear and pumping his throbbing length punishingly tight, imagining it was her hand and her voice in his ear.

“It’s okay. You can’t help it.”

Her hand pressed into his crotch and he moaned at the feeling of her fingers encircling his stiff length trapped under layers of fabric, his forehead hitting her shoulder, feeling the wet, slick spot already forming underneath the tip.

“Roll your hips. Let me feel you.”

Mirroring himself days before, but instead of his own hand, it was hers. “F-Fuck…” So much better, rubbing him with each rock of his hips, hooking her fingers under the head and squishing the pre-cum against the sensitive skin. He whined and looked up. Instantly, her free hand rose, grasping his chin firmly and gently, and he saw her smirk, white teeth catching the edge of her lower lip.

“Don’t be afraid,” she nudged, sliding a finger over his chin and tugging down. “Make your noises. Talk to me.”

He was going to say something stupid, he knew it, so he simply moaned instead, humping her hand in the middle of her bedroom, with force and with speed, too impatient to wait any longer, not enough friction so he begged for more in small whines, hoping his pleas reached his teary eyes.

“Just like this?” she hummed, twisting her palm from side to side, alternating the pressure and the tightness, keeping him on the edge. “You fuck your hand like this and think about me?”

Think about you?

Jungkook bit his lower lip, feeling the ripple of desire flow through him.

I watched you and him.

He winced, f

#yoonkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #yoonkook smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x noona #jungkook x you #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

Sat, 14 May 2022 20:35:02

seesaw (demo ver), m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Just you and Min Yoongi. Sitting in a car. Rain crashes down. The dark sky turns darker, giving way to the night. He asks you to listen to his sound.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends-with-benefits; mild angst; using sex as a coping mechanism; mentions of past D/s smut (sub!Yoongi including forced orgasms, anal vibrator usage, choking); fluff honestlyromanticew; smut (fem reader, car sex in a rest stop parking lot, biting / scratching / marking teeny bit of Yoongi ass appreciation, nipple play, handjob, fingering, cumming onto your stomach, cum eating, f-receiving oral); non-idol!AU - long-black-haired, music producer!Yoongi

highly recommended to listen to seesaw (demo ver) while reading this, it makes everything so much better.

Rain.

“It’s really coming down, huh.”

“Yeah.”

A bolt of white lightning cracked through the black sky, eating through the darkness, only to dissipate into the clap of thunder. It wasn’t fully dark yet but it seemed like it was with the heavy clouds swollen with nature’s tears. A torrential downpour, soaking anything and anyone underneath.

“Maybe you should pull over for a bit.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You can barely see. It’s just a flash thunderstorm. Couple minutes and it’ll die down.”

“Hah…”

He was reluctant to do so. You could tell by the furrow of his brow and the small sigh, but he relented, pulling into a rest stop. Filled up on gas, frowning under the awing with his hands shoved in his olive parka pockets. You caught his eye and he smiled a little, the curved line blurred through the glass covered in droplets.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

He raised an eyebrow.

You extended the muscle as far out as it would go, practically to the bottom of your chin.

Min Yoongi narrowed his eyes, unamused.

The pump clicked, indicating it was done. He turned and put it back. Pressed the final buttons to complete the transaction. Screwed the tank cap on and closed the cover, wringing his hand and flicking off the excess water. Yanked the car door open and scattered rain over his seat, falling down and snapping the door closed, one word under his breath.

“Ass.”

“I like yours and you like mine. Equivalent exchange.”

“Ready to go?” he asked, ignoring your true statement.

“Just pull into the lot and we’ll wait a little.”

He did so, peering at the closed doors and dark lights of the diner next to the gas station. Clearly nobody there. The start of a zombie film, probably, except there were other cars getting gas and someone attempting to change their tire in the rain.

“Man, I would wait…” you muttered.

Yoongi shrugged. “Maybe they’re in a hurry.”

The sound of rain, falling down, down, down. It created a drumming rhythm with the thick, fat drops hitting the car roof and across the windows, blurring everything. Yoongi reached over and turned the key, turning the car off instead of leaving it on idle. It wasn’t too cold.

Just a lot of water.

Yoongi frowned, his long black hair looking damp and hanging by his eyes, staring up at the black clouds.

“Doesn’t look like it’s gonna let up.”

“Water doesn’t boil any faster if you’re staring at it.”

He turned his head to face you but you had already leaned in close, anticipating his annoyed expression. Flashed a smile. Gave him a quick kiss and Yoongi kept his face neutral, struggling not to react.

You gazed into his dark brown eyes, not saying anything.

The rain fell down, down, showering the world around you, and you listened to his breath. Slow, steady, his pink lips parted. Admiring all of him, every curve, line, even the stray strands of black hair slipping down, creating shadows over his cheekbones. The shape of his face, eyes, lips. The way the dark world made his face seem like it was glowing, the contrast making his fair skin stand out.

“At this rate, we don’t need to go see the ocean. It’s being dumped down on our heads.”

Yoongi half-smiled. “It’s pretty much the same thing, mhm.”

You wondered if he was afraid.

Searched his eyes and there was a distance there. Hah. On one hand, unsurprised. On another, slightly annoyed. You backed up, not wanting him to notice your observations. He shifted. You felt it in the air, his unease, his silence, his inward struggle, but you pretended not to notice, settling back into the passenger’s seat and watching the rain, leaving a small smile on your lips.

Rain or shine, push or pull, up or down, anything or everything.

You couldn’t wait forever, but you could wait a little longer.

“I…”

You waited.

“Do you want to hear the latest track I composed? It’s only a rough draft. No lyrics yet.”

I’m sorry, he was going to say. But you were tired of hearing I’m sorry and Yoongi knew that. He was tired of saying it. But saying I’m sorry was a lot easier than saying I’ve figured out how to patch my torn-up heart.

You turned back to him, nodding.

“I want to listen to it.”

He looked back, looking for the lie, and you held his gaze, letting him see there was none. And now you could see it yourself, see that this wasn’t any old track that Yoongi wanted you to hear, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip, slowly reaching back to get his phone in his pocket. Taking his time. You noticed his hands, brushing them against his black pants and reaching over to turn the screen on. His lock screen was him with his dog sleeping on top of his chest. It had changed from the sunset landscape that he had for the longest time.

That sunset landscape photo that he had taken a long time ago, with someone else by his side.

Yoongi unlocked his phone with his thumbprint.

You looked away, not wanting to invade any longer. Chewed on your lower lip. Pushed your hopes down, because there was no reason to place stakes on uncertainties and assumptions. And besides, you too were playing around to some extent. Everything just for fun, for sport, not believing in anything.

He said he wasn’t that serious and you agreed to that.

It only became hard because you were beginning to think Yoongi was more than casual, more than a silent player, more than the shallow pool of emotions he let on. Just friends, but friends don’t know the way you taste. You thought you could wade through. There was no reason to get too deep into such a shallow pool of water.

The rain fell down, down.

You heard the sound of soft rain on greenery emitting from his phone speaker.

Crickets.

Piano.

Synth.

Friends don’t feel the things you let me feel.

Your eyes shifted and you found Yoongi leaning over to set his smartphone into the cupholder to aid the acoustics. Black hair hanging down, pulling his hand back and rubbing them together. Not quite looking at you, ticking his chin to his phone. Outside, the rain barreled down, but inside it was soft, slipping into piano notes and dreams, blending with the hum of crickets during a summer night, and you could see it, the shadow of Yoongi’s profile diligently leaning over the keyboard, working late to turn his emotions into music, bleeding them out to patch up his torn-up heart.

You listened to his words, each one trapped in the melancholy melody.

Piano, synth, strings.

Wishes, uncertainty, begging for decisiveness.

It faded out and then began to play again.

“I leave the default on loop,” Yoongi murmured, reaching forward. “Just to test the replay value of it. See if it’s catchy enough to listen to over and over.”

You stopped his hand, closing your fingers around his.

Cold in your warm hold.

“Let me listen again.”

The sky darkened, day rapidly slipping into night, but you didn’t pay attention, instead holding Yoongi’s hand and listening to this individual track. The storm only deepened it, the strike of light across the clouds and the harsh bass of thunder, and you held his hand, sliding your fingers down, your palm to the back of his hand, your fingertips caressing his, smiling as you felt the calluses caused by his guitar.

Yoongi didn’t pull his hand away.

He curled his fingers inward to cover yours, stealing your warmth.

You let him.

You weren’t a music producer like Yoongi. Just an avid listener and attentive to details, especially his. You listened to the song and to his body, humming with nervousness, trying not to show it, his hand still but his muscles on edge, and you turned your head, raising it, finding his movement mirroring yours, his long bangs sliding back and revealing those dark brown orbs.

Wary curiosity, afraid of what he might see.

You let go of his hand.

His breathing stilled; exhale trapped.

You reached up and tucked half of his black hair behind his right ear, the rest falling over his left eye. Pale skin from late nights, the shadows of insomnia in the form of dark circles. His olive jacket rumpled. White shirt underneath wrinkled. Simple black athletic pants in a half-assed attempt to look somewhat decent. Clean at least.

“What do you think?” Yoongi asked, his low voice turning his whisper into waning smoke.

He tried not to show his scars, but his music was giving him away.

You leaned forward and kissed him.

Lips to lips, inhaling softly. Stealing his breath, and he gasped involuntarily as your fingers traced his jaw, pulling him to you, sliding your tongue between his soft lips. Slow, finding his tongue, warm, glossing your fingertips over his cheek, passionate, layering the moment. Tongue, lips, touch. Breathe, sigh, tilt of your head. Deeper, detailed, varying pressure and lustful murmurs accented by falling rain and Yoongi’s melody purring below your bodies.

You felt his hand reach out and reach between the flaps of your oversized charcoal gray hoodie, clutching your dress, his long fingers curling into red plaid with buttons down the center, tracing the circle shape with his fingernail.

A beat to catch your breath, his taste lingering.

“Your sound,” you whispered between his lips and yours, faint in the dripping darkness, lashes lifting to see his half-lidded gaze back at you, both of you trapped in this buoyant bliss. “In all forms, speaks to me.”

His voice like faded stars, barely breathing and coursing with scars.

“What do you hear?” Yoongi asked.

The tips of his hair brushed against your cheek, his head leaning against yours and yours leaning against his, wishes, uncertainty, begging for decisiveness. A delicate shiver as your lips touched once more.

“Possibilities,” you breathed.

And neither of you could bear to discuss what that could mean, for then it would be too real and too revealing, wrapping yourself instead in his lips and the sound of rain, your hands on his chest and his on yours, kiss after kiss, the storm coming down, down, piano keys and trembling synth, tongues curling and his scent in your nose, pushing him and he pushed back, his hair against your face, shaking exhale that you drank with greed, running your fingers over his chest, only thin jersey fabric separating his nipples from your nails.

You toyed with them, savoring his swallowed moan.

Haunted by the up and down, the never-ending seesaw of not wanting to be the one that ruins it all, and when it came crashing down, Yoongi and his torn-up heart wandered into your path, looking for it to be ripped out so he didn’t have to feel anything anymore.

You assured him, I can do that.

You pushed his parka down his shoulders, splaying your hands over his collarbones as he undid the first button of your dress.

Everyone thought Min Yoongi didn’t feel anything. Thought he didn’t care, thought he didn’t have anything to say because he was so quiet, thought he was comfortable in his silence, but they just weren’t listening o his voice, because his voice wasn’t in words.

But in body.

Breath.

Music notes.

He gasped into your mouth as you let one hand slide up into his hair, curling your fingers into the soft, thick waves of black, a comforting darkness, trailing your other hand down, following the rain, trickling your caress, soft lips and tilting your head to extend your tongue farther, thrusting into his mouth as his tongue pressed against yours, savoring your insistence, open-mouthed smirk pressed to your kiss.

The first, yeah, okay, wild and rough but no big deal, so the next time, be rougher, I know you can be, seemed out of character for him, but you obliged, grabbing his right arm and pressing it into the small of his back, pinning him down to your mattress, your other hand in his hair, fistful of black locks as you slammed his face down into the sheets, his squirming hips in between your thighs, his hard, leaking cock smearing pre-cum all over your sheets as the anal vibrator assaulted his ass, pressed deep to hit the spot that ruined him the most. Lifted his head, pushed it back down. Took his breath away and gave it back, surfacing from suffering only to be thrown down into the inescapable pleasure once more until it was over.

I thought you were gonna fuck me.

That was way more frustrating and rougher, wasn’t it?

Yoongi clenched his jaw then, relenting in his mess of pooled cum soaked into your sheets.

You figured, that’s enough, he’s not gonna come back, but you were wrong.

It must have been a very bad night, because he was trying to hide the alcohol on his breath and shielding his torn-up heart with a tough exterior, what? I’m not thrown off because of last time. You’ll need to do more than that. It was bad to think of doing things like holding him and asking him what was wrong. He was using you as surely as you were using him, siting on his dick, rolling your hips defiantly slow, pussy clenching his entire length, keeping him at the cusp of pleasure with your hand around his neck.

Yoongi looked back at you then, glassy eyes and biting back his whimpers.

Wishing for help.

You looked back, wordless, helping him by shattering the memories with pain and pleasure, working him from above and then from below, ramming your hips up into his and constricting him with your tightness until his knees gave out and, even then, you smacked your hand into his heaving chest, holding him up and fucking him until he came.

Uncertainty as you held him then, him accidentally falling asleep in the middle of cleaning up.

You let him sleep, because it seemed like he hadn’t slept for days.

You didn’t push his hair out of his eyes though. This wasn’t that kind of moment. This wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was his torn-up heart to be ripped out, so you let him be, leaving the distance between you and him, leaving those faded stars for eyes, letting him go when he wanted to be let go, stumbling out your door with his apologies.

Stop with the I’m sorry. You don’t have to say that to me, you know.

Back and forth, push and pull, up and down.

Yeah… Okay. I get it.

Rain cascading down, and now Yoongi slipped his fingers into the space created by opened buttons, stroking your skin underneath, teasing you by flicking the band of your bra, chuckling as you bit his lower lip, sucking on it harshly to get your message across.

The next time. And the next. Each time, you held him a little closer, a little tighter, a little longer. Between clenched jaws and your hand over his mouth, those dark brown eyes like faded stars that seemed to flicker with brightness every time you pushed him to the edge, the countless barrage of sensations shattering old memories.

I started making music again.

They were few and far between, these types of conversations. Oh? That’s good. You are music.

Was does that mean?

Your relationship with music is precious, you had told him. You belong with music and music belongs with you.

You broke the kiss and yanked his head back by his hair, shooting his low moan up to the ceiling of the car, tasting the vibration with your tongue against his Adam’s apple, his cool fingers slipping under your bra, pushing it up and wrapping his fingers over the curve of your breasts, a fingertip on your nipple, pushing it in a circle. You pulled down the collar of his shirt, pressing your lips to the bone, licking the pocket in between connected muscle, soft on flesh, sharp on skin, alternating kisses and biting, sharp sucks to mark his delicate fairness.

This was his idea, driving to the ocean, staying for a couple days. Random shit like that, going here or there, fucking in remote places or semi-public places, whatever he was feeling, trying to convince you with his calm demeanor that he was feeling nothing.

Then you would touch him and listen to his body.

You used to think, it’ll be quick, it’s just a person, people get over people, but it was not people or a person Yoongi was trying to get over. You realized between kisses, between gasps, between moans.

He was running.

He pinched your nipple and you sucked in a breath. Moment of hesitation and Yoongi swooped in, his other hand in your hair and pulling your head back, the sting of pain while your fingers remained tangled, but he didn’t seem to care, his head dipping down, mirroring bites and kisses, running his tongue over your throbbing skin, blood pumping strong under his agile tongue. Rain pouring down, blending with piano and the sounds of visceral sensuality, catching the gasps in your throat as Yoongi rolled your nipple between the rough pads of his fingers, squeezing, rubbing, manipulating the angle of your head.

It was hard to run from yourself, but Yoongi had help in your touch.

His hand slipped from your hair and he pinched both nipples, tugging up and making you hiss.

“It’s awkward,” you got out between gritted teeth. “With the seats.”

He let go and nudged you even though you were already moving, climbing over the center.

“Nice ass.”

Yoongi smacked his palm on your ass cheek and squeezed, satisfied at the way his fingers sank into the softness. You snapped your hips to the side, falling into the backseat and glaring.

“Get yours back here.”

The side of his mouth was quirked upward and, even in the rain and the blurred lights of the gas station, you could see the arrogance in it, climbing over the center as he shed his jacket, throwing it into the driver’s seat. His phone continued playing the instrumental track continuously on loop, the sound filling up the car as the outside remained a sea of pelting rain.

You shrugged out of your hoodie, no longer cold in the heat that was you and Yoongi.

He lowered himself, halfway on top of you.

You pulled up his shirt, carefully untangling him from the confines in the tight space.

It was unfair to put expectations on something that was clear from the beginning, so you did not, but there were still those nights, humid nights accompanied by open windows, and you looked out, bed empty, wondering if he looked up into the darkness too during those late sessions in his studio, his hands poised on his keyboard, trapped in his emotions so he bled them out over the keys and into melodies.

You would place your hands on the windowsill, looking up at the moon, the playful mirror of the sun, toying with its rays even as the sun hid on the other side of the earth.

You wondered if Yoongi looked for that light too.

You knew it was bad to think it, but.

You and him.

It could be so good.

Wishes, uncertainty, but you pushed it all away, wondering when would be that last time you would hold that hand scarred by music, wondering about that heart torn-up by others abusing his kindness, letting him hide behind an unfeeling shell and harsh words. You weren’t bothered by it because you understood it. Instead, you focused your energy on each time being worthwhile, knowing it might be the last time.

But you saw it, the way music patched up his torn-up heart.

Yoongi leaned down, black hair ghosting over your temples. You tipped your chin up, blowing a thin, steady stream of breath into his open lips, sensing his shoulders stiffening, low moan bubbling in his chest. Piano, synth, strings. Your fingers trailing along the elastic waistband, tugging down, tangling his knees in his pants and his boxer briefs. Falling rain, whispering darkness, barely any cars now. He sucked in a tight breath, your fingers spreading over his ass, sinking your nails into his flesh and dragging down, down the sides of his thighs, blossoming pain and thin pink lines, barely visible in the low light.

It was an addictive melody.

Your crept your fingers back up, one by one, dancing on his skin. Stroking it over the curve, tracing his hip, v-line, waist, breathing in his staggering exhales. Dug your nails in again. Dragged down. Pain in his hitched breath, but refusing to jerk his hips forward, resistant to giving in.

“Yoongi…”

A drifting, delicate soundwave of a whisper, calling him as much as it was intoxicating him, his erratic breathing exposing him despite his calm response.

“Touch my cock.”

His knees were ensnared by his pants and underwear.

You curved your hands inward, splaying them on the insides of his thighs.

“Not yet.”

You scratched him there too, harsh in the sensitive area, hearing Yoongi hiss and then an unwilling groan break out between gritted teeth, his knees hitting the backseat.

“F… Fuck…”

You pushed his clothes down more and he slid forward, his hard length hitting the inside of your thigh, smearing pre-cum onto your skin. His hand sank down between your bodies, unbuttoning more buttons, before attempting to slide his hand under the fabric.

You snatched his hand, stopping him.

“Unbutton it all.”

Yoongi growled, eyes flashing in the darkness, catching the blurred lights of the gas station, the reed-like synth murmuring through the cabin of the car. You shifted, moving your body horizontally, your head against the car window. Cocked your chin, still not letting go of his wrist.

He made a displeased noise.

You let him go and Yoongi unbuttoned the last three buttons.

Against the glass, you could hear the rain better. Softer now, steady. The lightning and thunder were long gone. You rolled your shoulders, tucking your bra under you and leaving your dress on the seat, lifting your hand to run your fingers through Yoongi’s hair again. Thick, soft waves of black, pushing it away from his face, sharp brows and dark eyes, his skin glistening in the blurs of low light.

You didn’t say anything.

The music continued, and Yoongi spoke to you.

Your name in his voice, weighted.

You smiled, listening to his sound.

You imagined him, illuminated by his computer monitor, furrowing his brows as he listened back to his creations. Each note a moment in his life, an exposé of his emotions. The melody the purple prose, contrasting his lyrics, candid, simple, clear.

You wondered what the words to this song were.

You pulled Yoongi down to you, into a maze of tongue and kisses, soft lips and gentle savagery, running your other hand down his torso, your nails against his chest. Past racing heartbeat, flicking his nipple and making him flinch, down his quivering core, feeling the heat rise, and you closed your fingers around him, his tremor slipping through your lips. Thick, hard, pulsing, working him slowly, rubbing your thumb along taut skin, hooking your index and middle finger, coiling the long length of your digits over his balls, constricting them.

Stroking his cock as you squeezed his balls.

He thrust his tongue into your mouth, fucking it.

The fingers of his left hand traced down your shoulder, his right holding him up. Sucking on his tongue and opening your eyes to his squeezed shut, his strong brows furrowed, his touch outlining your collarbones, the curve of your breast, stopping at your nipple and rubbing the hard nub, pinching it, flicking it, making your shallow breaths even shorter, his pace stuttering as you gripped him a little tighter, pumping him strongly.

His fingers let go, falling down, down.

You broke the kiss, turning your head to the side and releasing him from your hold for a split second. Drenched your hand in your own spit, tongue over fingers and in between them, a thick layer on your palm and you extended it back down, dripping onto his stiff cock, gripping him tight, two wet fingers around his balls.

“S-Shit…” he swore under his breath, swearing again as his fingers dipped in between your legs, feeling the slick and the mess.

“Put it on the head,” you murmured.

Yoongi didn’t even bother to refute you.

He coated his fingers all over with your pussy juices and lifted his hand, hissing in pleasure as he smeared the sweet stickiness over the head of his cock, previously neglected, but not anymore, his fingers now joining yours as you moved your hand up and down, teasing himself while you kept your steady pace.

His eyes flickered to yours.

You looked back, lifting a brow at half of his face covered by his hair.

The rain sang along with the melody echoing from the cupholder, blurred lights of the gas station catching his dark eyes, the car windows misted with heat and clinging droplets.

Yoongi watched your face as you jacked him off, slick and wet, squeezing his balls with every stroke, his own two fingers rubbing over the slit and along the underside of the head, breathing hard, lust thundering through his shoulders, flinching involuntarily at the overwhelming sensations. You didn’t stop, a bit faster, his head trembling a little, shaky pants, holding out for as long as he could, the muscles in his neck tense, the skin dotted with hickeys, your mark on him.

He removed his fingers from his cock and pushed them into your pussy.

You gasped, your stroke suddenly unexpectedly longer.

You stared into Yoongi’s eyes and not even the black curtain of hair could hide the fire in them, lit up by reflected light in the droplets of nature’s tears.

You raised your hips, rolling them into his thrusting fingers. A corner of his lips quirked upwards, the peek of white teeth and pink gums, inhale a struggle but driven by pleasure, bringing himself closer to your face, forcing you to remove your fingers from his balls and only focus on pumping him, directing the pressure at the base of the head. Ricocheting ecstasy shooting up your spine, to your head, to your breath sucked into his lungs, sparking oxygen into his blood rushing down to his throbbing cock coated in your spit and your juices, mixing onto your palm and fingers, sticky, slick, messy, listening to the wet, squelching sound of Yoongi’s fingers pushing into your dripping pussy.

Falling rain.

Piano and synth.

The rhythm of breathing, his sound just enough, hitched gasp to urge you to go faster, extended moan as your hand tightened, approving of the roughness, driving his fingers in, over and over, following the pace that you built through the haze of need, your right elbow holding you up as his left hand clutched the edge of the seat, the muscles from his neck, shoulder, and arm flexed, your name in a wanton hiss.

“Cum for me.”

You let out a puff of defiance.

“You first.”

Yoongi seemed amused at your response. Perhaps even expecting it, because you clenched your jaw as he slid another finger in, pushing your arm to move faster, more controlled, just under the head, and you could see his jaw was tense too, his forearm rippling with movement, building, building, layer on layer, scattered rain, crickets and strings, holding your breath as Yoongi held his, listening to the dirty noises blending with the rain and his own melody.

You pressed your hips up into his hand, all the way to his knuckles, and clenched around his three fingers.

“Fuck, Yoongi…”

He screwed his eyes shut, swearing under his breath.

The waved crashed through you, igniting ripple across your torso and throb coursing through your hips as you came, hot, slick, pulsating around his fingers, uncontrollable shiver as his hips dipped and thick cum shot over your stomach, painting downwards, warmth cascading out onto your heated skin, covering you in his heady, strong scent, the head of his cock pressed to your abdomen, spreading it more. His black hair feathered over your shaking collarbones as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, keeping his body hovering over yours. His pants washed over your neck, echoing in your ear.

Whisper of your name, husky and low, the sound melding with the rain.

You leaned your head against the window, cool to your heated scalp, gazing up at the black sky, the moon being the only break to the blackness, but today it couldn’t play with you, caged by sobbing clouds.

Each breath high, intense, the hum of pleasure slipping away slowly.

Yoongi lifted his head from your shoulder.

You didn’t look down yet, not really prepared for the cooling mess on your stomach.

Then you hissed and snapped your head down, seeing and feeling Yoongi’s tongue pressed to your skin, licking up the dripping trickles of milky white. He knew you were watching. A single blink and those dark brown orbs observed you under a shadow of black as he drank up his own orgasm.

You saw the twinkle of pleased amusement in those eyes despite him keeping his blank expression, tilting his head and running his tongue across your abdomen, leaving lines of tingling desire.

“Y-Yoongi…”

He lapped up the last bit, pressing his lips to your waist, wordless.

His words were each kiss, sprinkling them down your hips.

The strings thrilled with the falling rain and recorded crickets, fading out to the real rainfall.

His body slid down, slightly crammed in the small space, but you scooted up a little and then his mouth was on you, swirling tongue and dipping between your folds, your slick coating his lips, sweet vicious juices joining the salty strength of his orgasm. You felt him collect it into his mouth, painting your pussy with his tongue and grazing the tip over your engorged clit.

You whined and bit down on it, trying to shut it up.

Yoongi closed his lips around your clit and began a steady, firm pace, the previous orgasm compounding the sensation, your nerves singing with familiarity, craving that tongue and its precise movement, just rough enough to make your blood sing and those lips keeping you at the cusp of inescapable pleasure, his hands clutching your ass to support you to his mouth.

You moaned to the ceiling, leaking into his mouth in a twitching waterfall, painting your cum onto his chin. Grinding your hips to his face and throbbing against his still lips, wet muscle pressed flat to your quivering clit, the faint friction enough to prolong the high a little longer, a little stronger, a little death at the work of his masterful tongue.

Yoongi drank that up too, slowly and carefully.

The rain shimmered down, down.

He lowered you. Crawled back up, his breath a mix of you and him, and you breathed it in, savoring it.

“We’re still a couple hours from our destination,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Want me to drive?” you murmured.

“No. I’ll do it.”

You stared into his eyes. Yoongi reached up and pushed back his hair, a display of the stark contrast of his skin to the darkness. His black hair swooped to one side, tumbling down in a wave and cradling the left side of his face.

His eyes were clear, looking back into yours.

“You’re not alone, you know,” you reminded him softly.

He smiled faintly.

Steady and musical, the rain tapped against the car, blending with recorded crickets fading in and out.

“I know. I want you to be with me.”

You searched his eyes, looking for the familiar distance that he kept between you and him, but it wasn’t there. Washed away. You reached up and traced his jaw, remembering the familiar shape of his lips. The taste of many nights and honesty, clear in his intentions from day one. You said nothing, wondering if it was real, and Yoongi held your gaze, letting you see that it was.

You could hear it.

His words.

In his breath, in the melody he had created, in his touch as he mirrored your hold, grazing your cheekbone with callused fingertips marked by his guitar.

Piano, synth, strings.

Wishes, uncertainty, decisiveness.

You kissed him again, in the darkness, surrounded by rain and his music.

–

masterpost

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