➬ Summary | With love, comes challenge. Especially when you are in love with the one man who is at the top of the world while keeping you on the other end.
➬ Genre | Artist/Music Producer!Yoongi, Established relationship!au, Angst, Fluff, Smut
↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature
↳ Warning | possessive Yoongi, a few events of jealousy, multiple smut scenes, implied public foreplay, clothed foreplay, dry humping, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, rough sex, breast play, biting, clit play, hair pulling, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, self-masturbation (female), clothed sex, car sex.
↳ Word count | 22k words (I’m sorry for this T^T)
↳ Cross post | AO3|Inkitt (coming soon!)
↳ Music companion | Little Do You Know-Alex & Sierra | Youth - Daughter
➬ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @minyoongail. | Thank you for giving me a chance to write for Yoongi again. Forgive me for the long wait. I hope you’ll enjoy this story.
THEN…
From the very first night you met Min Yoongi, you were instantly drawn to him.
To describe the moment perfectly, you could easily say that it had happened exactly the way wise people would describe this kind of attraction; that you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
It was an instant pull, the kind of attraction that you had never once felt for another person before. Not to the boys you have dated through college, not even for the hot specimen of a male sitting right next to your cubicle at the office you were attending through your internship.
To this day, you could only faintly recall the events which had led you into getting dragged along to the uncharted territory where Min Yoongi existed. It was Friday night, right on the weekly scheduled night out that you would spend with your friends, when the hours were getting late and the dive bar that you had frequently gone to each week felt too cramped and dull with all the men in suits who came in for a seemingly boring company party while acting like they owned the place.
“It would be fun,” you remembered one of them said as she suggested to try hopping into a different club instead of ending the night early.
Sooooo… i held off as long as I coukd coz i know its going to hurt. I read the teaser so i have an idea how much it will hurt. To be fair to the reader, we all have these kind of thoughts even if you’re not dating a renowned music producer. Its a given in any relationship, and i feel her with her struggles - the feeling of inadequacy, the sort of “power dynamics” (him being famous while her “normal”), the inner monologue of telling yourself that he loves you and that he’s faithful.
My chest was so tight the whole time i was reading this, up until the interview with Yoongi. After that i released a very huge breath. This is such a beautiful story, the way Yoongi makes it up to her with words and deeds, trying to prove to her that she’s loved and there is no one else.
It takes hard work to keep any relationship to work and this story is such a gem coz it gives you hope that there is happy ending.
Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.
Your eyes dart to Jimin who’s lay over the sofa, face flat and disinterested, eyes on the TV. He doesn’t see the glare, but he can hear it in your tone and still he doesn’t react.
“You were supposed to give a supportive response.”
“I agreed with you,” he continues flatly.
“How is that supportive?” You whine.
“I –”
“Don’t respond to that, it was rhetorical. I already know the shit that’s going to spew out of your mouth.”
You watch Jimin’s eyes dart to you, the only part of his body to move before they go back to the TV.
“Now who’s the unsupportive friend?”
“I’m sorry,” you say sarcastically sounding very unapologetic. “I’m trying to tell you that I can’t find a date over here. That nobody will ever love me and I’m going to die alone and you’re fobbing me off for Homes Under the Hammer.”
“Escape to the Country,” he corrects.
“Idon’tcare,” you throw your arms in the air, flopping back on your seat.
Jimin finally sits up, turns so his attention is fully on you. He still doesn’t look fully interested but at least it’s something, at least your whining and attention seeking has achieved something.
“We’ve gone through this a hundred times,” he mutters and when you shoot him a look is quick to add, “but let’s do it again.”
“Erik’s ghosting me.”
“His loss.”
“And I know it’s only been a few days but how long am I supposed to wait around for a response?” You carry on as if he hasn’t spoken.
“Well, I don’t think you should have even waited this long. You owe him nothing, you can date multiple people at once, you’re not tied to anyone.”
“You sound like Yoongi.”
Now you have Jimin’s attention. The words were muttered under your breath and yet it’s like he has sonar hearing when it come’s to Yoongi’s name. It’s unnerving for so many reasons, not least the fact you’ve hardly spoken about Yoongi and yet he still seems so interested in him. He’s never even met the guy.
“What pub does he work at again?”
“Not saying.”
“Come on.”
“Nope. You’re not going to harass the poor man.”
“I just want to talk to him. See if he’ll take you on a date as you’re seemingly too chicken to do it yourself.”
The blood seems to drain out of you while also boiling to the surface of your skin. You try to look unbothered by the comment and while you feel like you succeed Jimin seems to pick up on something if his grin is anything to go off.
“Andthatis exactly why you will never know where he works,” you shoot him a sarcastic smile.
“There can only be so many Yoongi’s in this city. Possibly only the one that works in a pub.”
You frown at him. “And now you’re threatening to what … stalk him?”
“I just want you to ask him out,” it’s his turn to whine.
“When have I ever given you the impression I’d want to ask him out?”
“You called him hot.”
“I hardly know him.”
“Does it matter?”
“To me? Yes,” the words feel a tad bitter leaving your mouth, like a lie, but you’re so determined to convince Jimin and get him off your back that you hardly notice.
“Didn’t seem to matter with Erik,” he points out. “You’ve met him what, once, and yet here you are moping about him.”
“He’s ghosting me. And it feels like shit. It’s not the same,” you reply flatly, eyes go back to your phone as if you’re hoping to find that your words are a lie and there’ll be a message sat waiting for you. There’s not. “Anyway, the point is, what do I do?”
Jimin seems to take pity on you even if he does roll his eyes. He stands, walks over to you so he can sit on the arm of the chair. He doesn’t say anything but seems to look down at you expectantly. When you don’t move you can hear the sigh in his tone.
“Open up Tinder or something then.”
You look down at your phone but still don’t do what Jimin asks. You weren’t expecting the words, especially said so bluntly, so it takes you a second to comprehend. Is he trying to ask you to open up your messages with Erik so he can help evaluate them, or is he telling you to move on and find someone new? As if reading your mind, or more realising you still don’t get it given the time it takes you to do nothing, Jimin clarifies.
“If the guy can’t find the time to reply to you, or message you, or whatever, he doesn’t deserve you. Even if he were to reply to you now I’d tell you to sack him off. You need someone who messages you five minutes after they’ve seen you. Not this,” he waves his hand at the blank screen sat in your lap.
His words sink in and again you’re reminded of Yoongi. Wasn’t that something he said when you saw him after the date? That you deserve someone who you’re excited about, who’s just as excited by you. You shouldn’t settle for fine or good.
And they’re right. Dating is hard, it scares you, you don’t particularly want to drag this out any longer than you need to, but that doesn’t mean you should go for the first guy just because he’s not awful. It’s not like you haven’t dated in the past, but it’s been so long and you never did it like this, were at uni where you managed to meet people through friends and parties and clubs. This is different, requires you to put yourself out there a bit more.
It seems bizarre to you that you went to the pub alone, let alone opened up to two strangers, because it’s so unlike you. Maybe it was the spontaneity of it, rather than this. Which is completely different, requires thought and looking at yourself as others would, trying to paint yourself in a certain light while also wanting to be realistic. Then there’s the anticipation of talking to someone, potentially meeting up with them. Some people find that exciting while you just find it terrifying. The main reason you’ve put off dating for so long. It’s not just the potential rejection, but everything along the way to even get to that point. You have to pour so much of yourself in and you’re scared that it could all be for nothing, that down the line they’ll just realise that you’re not what they want. You’re not exciting, not special, you have nothing that stands out as something someone would want. You’re awkward and anxious and if you’re honest a bit of a mess.
But you still feel lonely. You have Jimin, have lots of other friends, but it doesn’t make it easier when you come home from work to an empty house. When you visit your friends and have to watch them cuddle with their boyfriends on the sofa. When you want to go on a holiday but all your friends already have plans with their partners. When you go out with your friends and they compare what their partners do and don’t do around the house. You feel loved by so many, but it doesn’t stop you also feeling incredibly alone.
“I’ve got some matches already, but I don’t know,” you explain as you give in and unlock your phone and then navigate to Tinder.
Jimin doesn’t say anything as he takes the phone off you, finds his own way to your matches. You sit up straighter, lean into his side to try and better see what he’s looking at.
“He’s cute,” he says, tilting the screen so you can see who he’s talking about.
You hum, not the most enthusiastic sign. “He’s going travelling for a year in two months.”
You don’t have to say anything else, Jimin simply moving on to the next. You don’t have to say anything about this guy, Jimin can clearly see that you’re the only one who’s messaged and he’s not replied.
“He goes home every weekend,” you explain as Jimin taps on the next guy.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Jimin says, scrolling through the chat.
“He takes his washing with him so his mum can do it and leaves with the weekly meals she’s cooked him.”
“Ok,” he says flatly, hearing enough to tap back onto your list of matches.
Your eyes land on the next person he’s going to tap on and snatch the phone back before he can. Jimin turns to you with questioning eyes as you lock your phone.
“And he sent a dick pic.”
Out of everything you’ve said this seems to be the thing that brightens Jimin as if truly interested. You’re almost surprised he doesn’t snatch the phone back off you to look.
“It was his first message and it wasn’t even that impressive,” you say.
“Savage,” Jimin chuckles.
“Can you at least see my issue now?”
“Dating’s wild,” Jimin shrugs as if that’s any sort of answer. “You found some duds –”
“A lot of duds.”
“– but you’ve just got to keep going. Someone will pop up. Someone a whole lot better than Erik.”
You look down at your black screen, as if the name will make a message appear. You sigh, you know he’s right, you just hoped it wouldn’t be his answer. Would it have been so hard for the first guy to be the one? It all seems to only make you think that maybe you’re not worth it. Maybe all your insecurities are right. If you can only match with this bunch of men, maybe that’s more a reflection on you then anything else.
“Sign up for Hinge and Bumble too,” Jimin’s tone is a tad softer, as if realising how down beat you are.
You keep your eyes on your phone, nod your head. Why did you even bother with any of this in the first place? Life isn’t so bad on your own. Maybe you should just be looking at dogs as a companion instead.
“Or ask a certain other guy out instead?”
You glare up at Jimin, see the cheeky smile on his lips and not so gently push your side into him. He topples off the arm of the chair with a yelp and now you have to try and not look so satisfied with yourself. At least he got you to smile.
A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Here it is, my last story for this special month, the thirteenth story I promised you guys! And… it’s a OT7 fanfic! I usually prefer to write only for one member at a time, but for this story I wanted something special so I included all of them. The relationship with the reader can be read however you like, be it romantic, platonic or just as a friend! Up to you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this series and that you like this story for the finale. Love you guys and let me know what you think!
Summary: You take all the members of BTS to go out camping during the Halloween weekend. Just the eight of you. What could possibly go wrong?
Warnings: HORROR! But not quite, just a spooky idea I had and wanted to share! Hope you all like it!
Word Count: 4769
There was a particular difficult issue that you always knew would come up when you first got to know the seven boys of BTS. Getting close to them, befriend them, caring for them would end up being incredibly frustrating during special days, like birthdays or Christmas or Valentine’s Day. And the reason why was simple: they were rich and already had any and everything you could envision them wanting for themselves.
Coming up with gift ideas became so stressful to you, that the boys had to put on an intervention one day and make you promise that you would never buy any of them a present ever again. So, since then, special days were celebrated with kind words and long messages to each other, lots of food and drinks if you could all be together and an overall good time in each other’s company.
And yet, when a friend of yours got a job as park ranger at a beautiful national park with amazing views, you got an idea. That particular park was closed down as they were redoing some of the roads and adding trails for hikers, being safer to just close off access to any pedestrians or campers for the month of October. So, if your friend could get you and the boys into the park, no one would be there to recognize them or bother them. And they had the weekend of Halloween off just in time.
It took a bit of persuading, but it’s not something Taffy hadn’t done before for her friend’s or something you had done for her back in the day. It would be just for the weekend, when no one would be working in construction either way, and she would be at the station in case anything went wrong.
In your eyes, it was the perfect gift you could give them. The boys liked camping, but they only ever did it with a bunch of cameras, never really just by themselves. They have been talking about a trip like this for months. And you could offer them just that.
“Have a good stay up there, babe” Taffy’s voice came in through the walkie talkie she gave you as you met her at the station to come in.
“Thanks, I owe you big time, queen” you radio back at her, a smile on your lips as you look out the van’s window while you continue up the path.
“Yeah, you do. Just watch out for wildlife and new forks in the roads. They haven’t put up the new signs yet” she warns.
“Will do. See you tomorrow.”
With that you decide to keep the walkie in your backpack before you ended up losing it.
“I still can’t believe we are actually doing this!” an excited Taehyung next to you says, a boxy smile and sparkling eyes thrown at you.
“It’s going to be fun. We’ll put up the tents, make a fire and eat some s’mores…” Hoseok chips in, sitting across the table from you with that usual cheery smile of his. “We’ll drink some beers and dance under the stars!”
“Yeah, I don’t know about the smores” Yoongi warns, on the other side of the moving van, body leaning against the window on his side, but looking your way. “We didn’t buy any marshmallows, so unless you packed some, no can do.”
“What?!” Hoseok turns around in his seat to talk to Namjoon, who was currently on the passenger side upfront, next to a driving Jungkook. “Say, Namjoon, did you buy the marshmallows like I asked?”
“Hum? What?” He does his best to turn around in his seat and look at us, but you can only see half of his square jaw and one of his slim eyes as he stretches, short hair covered by a cap.
“The s’mores for tonight” Hoseok persists.
“Oh, crap. Sorry, totally forgot about it!” Hoseok sighs in disappointment, and Namjoon feels guilty about it. “Should I go back and buy some?”
“No, of course not. It’s okay, another time we’ll have some” Hoseok remains positive and smiles brightly again, much to the leader’s relief.
“Yeah, this won’t be the last time we go camping, surely” Jimin, sitting next to Hoseok across from you and Taehyung, comforts him although he didn’t seem to need it any longer. “If I remember next time, I’ll buy you some myself, hyung.”
“How’s it going, JK? Is it much longer?” Jin yells as he leans to try and see the driver from his seat across from Yoongi.
“What?” Jungkook asks back, turning his head towards us slightly but keeping his eyes on the road and hands steady on the wheel.
“How much longer?” Jin repeats.
“The last sign I saw said two miles to the camping ground” he answered.
“Okay, good job!” Jin compliments the youngest.
Soon enough you arrived at the camping site, some bathroom facilities nearby that your friend gave you the keys to use as well some wooden tables and benches. There were tall colorful trees surrounding the clearing where you would all be staying tonight, with a beautiful view to the peak of the mountain, high on the sky, so much further away.
The boys all jump out of the van even before Jungkook managed to shut the engine off, screaming and stretching their legs as they walk outside into the grass and fresh air. Jin and Namjoon both ask you for the keys to the bathroom since they had to go for a while, only for Taehyung to steal them out of your hands and go first, with a shouting angry Jin and an annoyed resigned Namjoon following after.
You help Yoongi and Hoseok taking out all the necessaries in terms of food preparing, while Jimin and Jungkook tried to set the two tents up. When the rest of the members joined, things picked up quickly and you, Jin and Yoongi got a station ready for cooking while the rest of them took care of everything else.
It was early afternoon when you all arrived, but the night was commencing by the time you all sat down to eat. The hours felt like minutes, not a moment passing by in boredom with these boys around. Be it Jin telling you his silly jokes as he sliced the ingredients next to you, Yoongi asking you to taste every dish he prepared multiple times to know if it was good, Namjoon trying his best to help only to look at you with guilty eyes as he holds in his hands a broken part of the chair he and Hoseok were assembling. Hobi laughing about it in disbelief with you. The three younger members all struggling to put up the tents at first, calling you to help them but you only end up stuck under the fabric of the tent when they let it fall on you.
Not a dull moment with them. And so, hours went by like minutes.
By the end of dinner, you are all sited in chairs around the fireplace – Namjoon siting on one that was missing an arm, since he broke it – all watching the starry sky in comfortable silent, interrupted occasionally by a remark or two.
“Thank you for bringing us out here, Y/N. You’re the sweetest” Jimin murmurs in a chair next to you, his hands moving from his lap to brush at the skin of your fluffy arm in a gentle manner.
“Oh, you are welcome, ChimChim. Anything for you guys” you assure him, patting his hand that stays placed on top of your wrist.
“I didn’t think we’d ever get to be out and about like this ever again, just us without cameras, without causing trouble” Yoongi confesses, with a bit of a slur and his accent coming out due to the few beers he had to drink.
“Yeah, me neither. It’s all thanks to you, sweetheart” Namjoon agrees, throwing you a dimpled smile that had you smiling right back at him.
“Guys, please, stop it” you say as you grow a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable.
“Ohh, I think she is blushing! Look at Y/N’s cute chubby cheeks going red!” Taehyung points out, a long index finger pointing playfully your way, a mischievous look in his eyes.
“Maybe the beer is getting to her head only now” Jin proposes in a chuckle, leaning forward to look at you with puffy lips tugging up.
“Shut up! It was only one beer, how lightweight to you think I am?” you try and defend yourself.
“Pretty lightweight if I recall from that night at the karaoke…” Jungkook chips in.
Knowing exactly the night he was referring to, and mortified that he would spill all the embarrassing bits to everyone, you end up taking your slipper and throwing at him. But he just catches it and giggles, throwing it back at you with measured strength.
“Wait, guys, shush!” Hoseok suddenly gasps from the opposite side from you, turning in his chair to look at the woods behind him. “Did… Did anyone hear that?”
“Is your mind already playing tricks on you, hyung?” Jimin questions.
“No, no, I heard something. Like a branch snapping” Hoseok persists, on edge. “A-Are there bears in this mountain or something?”
“You hear a branch cracking and your first thought goes immediately to bear?” Yoongi wonders, not sounding amused. “How about a rabbit, a fox or even a coyote before you think of something like a bear?”
Yoongi did have a point, and nobody heard anything except for Hoseok, but seeing how concern he was, you decide to appease him.
“I’ll call Taffy and ask her about what wildlife we are dealing with, okay, Hobi?”
“Thanks, Y/N, you’re a real angel. Unlike you guys!” He pouts at the rest of the group after throwing you an appreciative look of relief.
“Hey, Taffy, you there?” you say into the walkie-talkie you took out of your bag.
It takes her a minute or two, but she does respond.
“Hello there, gang. What’s up? Already bored?” she jokes.
“Nothing like that. Just wandering, what kind of animals are there in the mountain? We won’t be seeing any bears or anything like that, right?”
“Oh, we had some bears alright” she says through the static and Hoseok yelps while the rest of them widen their eyes at the walkie in your hands. You heart skips a bit in unexpected fright, but then she continues. “But since we are closed, there won’t be any large hairy gay men around any time soon, sorry to disappoint!”
A collective sigh of relief and a chuckle or two are heard around the fireplace and you pursue your lips as you close your eyes, imagining just smacking the back of her head if she was there with you for scaring you like that.
“Very funny, thanks for that” you sarcastically reply.
“No problem, anytime. But yeah, there’s only like foxes and wild cats to watch out for in here.”
“Good to know, we’ll be careful.”
“I see the smoke. You guys around a fireplace?”
“Yeah, we finished eating and we’re just relaxing before hitting the sack. Don’t worry, we’ll set it out before going to sleep” you promise her.
“Alright. Make sure the nine of you cuddle up for warmth, it will be cold tonight” she teases.
You know she is trying to tease and embarrass you, but you frown at what she says with a strange feeling instead. The boys don’t seem to pay it much attention apart from Namjoon and Jungkook, who look at you frowning as well.
“You mean eight. There is eight of us, me and the seven guys” you correct her.
The static goes silent for longer than it should and you realize that you have a bad feeling. Hoseok must have sensed it, cause his expression seems to mimic yours.
“She must have just counted wrong” Namjoon tries to calm you down.
“Hey” Taffy’s voice returns from the walkie and you don’t even realize you are now leaning in the chair, holding the device in front of you for everyone to hear it. “You guys all went down to the fountain to gather water, didn’t you?”
It was Jin who answered, a bit more serious now than he was before.
“Yeah, the buckets would be heavy to carry back to the camping site so we all went to help.”
“There are cameras every ten miles up the path and I saw you in one of them” she explains. “I’m looking at the recording right now and I count nine people walking by.”
A chill runs up your spine and your throat closes in on itself as you feel nauseated. This was not right; something was not right.
“Y/N, get everyone out. Come back to the station, there is someone else in the park!” your friend’s voice commands with assertiveness.
“OH MY GOD! I knew it, I knew it! There is A KILLER in here!” Hoseok starts to panic and, as much as you feel on the verge of terror yourself, you try to remain calm the best you can.
“Hobi, calm down” you say, running to him and placing your hands on his arms, rubbing them up and down through the sweater he had to try and keep him steady.
“Everyone on the van. NOW!” Namjoon orders and it takes less than thirty seconds for everyone to run inside the vehicle and leave all the stuff you had outside behind.
Instead of sitting, everyone seems to be looking out the windows with suspicion, into the dark distrustful woods, all the vehicle’s door locking as the sound of the motor roars to life. Only to stutter and crumble. Seven the heads suddenly snap to the driver’s seat, where Jungkook was again turning the key on the ignition. And the same happened.
“What the hell Jungkook! Get us out of here!” Jimin cries out, showcasing he was just as scared as Hoseok was looking right then.
“I’m trying! The van won’t start!” you can hear the guilt in his voice as he continues to try and try again to start the motor, but it just won’t work.
“We’re sitting prey! WE ARE SITTING PREY!” Hoseok is shaking profusely next to you and you hug him for support. His arms wrap around you as he leans his head against yours and breathes.
“No, we’re not. There was a ranger’s jeep on the side of that cabin next to the toilets, remember?” Namjoon starts, sounding a lot more confident than the clumsy man looked. “If we can get inside that cabin and find the keys, we can drive back to Taffy and wait for the police.”
“That’s IF we can even get to the cabin without encountering whoever is out there and IF we can get in and IF we can find the keys and IF the jeep even works!” Jin points out in a very matter of fact speedy speech that is difficult to keep up with. His nervousness was beginning to show. “How about we just lock ourselves here? Lock the van and wait for rescue? Y/N’s friend must have already called the police by now, we can wait here for them.”
“And be sitting ducks? Hell no!” Yoongi disagrees, biting at his nails before he speaks again. “I’m with Namjoon on this one. Whoever it’s out there, is just one person and there’s eight of us. And we don’t even know if they mean us any harm, they haven’t done anything yet.”
“Except messing with our van” Jungkook sighs irritated, giving up on starting the vehicle. “It worked perfectly before, someone must have messed with the engine.”
“Exactly, which means they wanted us here. They planned for us to stay here so, I say let’s get out there and try our luck with the jeep” Yoongi perseveres.
“You’re assuming they didn’t think we would wander off on our own, hyung! You don’t know! At least here we have four walls between us and whoever is out there, they wouldn’t get in” Jimin objects, sitting down and hugging his knees to his chest.
“Y-Yeah! S-so what if they shut the engine? We s-still have power so we can stay warm all night while they freeze outside!” Taehyung sides with Jimin, speaking for the first time in a while with evident fright in his voice but putting on a stoic front.
“What do you think, Y/N?” Jin asks you, coming to your side and taking your free hand into his while your other one was still around a terrified Hoseok’s back.
“I… I… I don’t know” you confess, completely undecisive. “Both ideas have their pros and cons. I don’t know which would be best, honestly.”
“Well, we do need your keys to try and get into the cabin. You still have the set of keys Taffy gave you, don’t you?” Namjoon asks.
“Oh, yeah, in my pocket” you say as you take them out. There were two other keys besides the ones for the toilets. “You think one of them is for the cabin?”
“Must be, right? It would make sense to have them all in one set if they’re next to each other.”
“I say let’s split up” Yoongi suddenly declares.
“What? That’s the worst idea, have you ever seen a horror movie?” Jungkook refutes. “We should all stick together, keep each other safe.”
“Well, we can’t seem to reach an agreement on what to do and we’re just wasting time. And this is not a horror movie, Jungkook, this is real life. We need to make our move and fast” Yoongi counters back.
“Let’s vote. Who wants to stay on the van?” Namjoon questions.
Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung immediately raise their hands.
“Okay, who wants to try and get to the jeep?”
Namjoon and Yoongi raise their hands. Both Jin, Jungkook and you stay neutral, unsure of what to pick. But Yoongi was right, you had to make your move sooner rather than later. So, with a deep breath, you go and stand between Namjoon and Yoongi, your decision made.
“I want to try and get out of here. Siting here, doing nothing, just creeps me out. I’ll go with them.”
“No, Y/N!” Jimin pouts with worry and stretches his arm to pull on yours, but you shake your head. Seeing his sad expression, you take his face in between your hands and peck at his forehead.
“If we get to the jeep, we’ll come back for you so we can all leave this place together. No one gets left behind” you promise them.
“I’ll go with them too” Jungkook decides, getting up from his driver’s seat and joining the group. A protective hand lands on your shoulder and you feel a little bit better.
“Then I’ll stay on the van. Keep an eye on them” Jin decides.
“Okay, that’s settled. Everyone, we’ll open the door, gather our things and we’re running” Namjoon says.
“I bet Yoongi is wishing he stayed in the van right now” Jin teases to which Yoongi just scrunches up his small nose. He wasn’t much of a fan of running and neither were you, but you both would have to for now.
“Stay safe, all of you” Taehyung wishes, coming in for a hug. You hug him back and try not to let negative thoughts go over your mind.
“I better hear the motor of the jeep coming soon, okay?” Hoseok asks, obviously nervous for you all.
“We’ll be right back” you promise again, rubbing his arm up and down before leaving.
Jimin holds your hand again, not wanting to let you go, but giving up once you move out of reach. Jin opens the door for all of you to step out and kisses the top of your head before you descend from the van.
You grab your backpack and it’s on.
All of you run towards the cabin, staying close to one another and away from the edges of the woods where there was no light. It was like any shadow could be someone, hiding, ready to strike. But there were four of you. People used to say there is strength in numbers. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to testing that.
The cabin was not particularly far, but in the context of the situation you were in, it felt like a continent away. The seven hundred feet distance took much too long for comfort, with the night sky darkening with each step. The running footsteps of the four of you were so loud you couldn’t tell if someone was following you. You just kept going, trying not to slow down the group with your poor running speed, especially with Jungkook staying right behind you.
When the cabin was just a few feet away, when you struggled to get the keys out of your pants’ pockets while you ran, that’s when you all heard it. A faint noise of glass being broken. And screams.
“Oh my God, oh my God…” you whisper with a trembling voice.
All of you stopped in your tracks as you look back at where the screams were coming from. From the van. Something happened in the van.
“Fuck! Jungkook, stay with Y/N and get to the cabin! Find that key and meet us by the van, we have to go back and help them” Namjoon orders in an almost shouting command, those dark and bushy eyebrows pulled so closely together in apprehension and fear that they almost meet at the bridge of his nose. He was trying to remain brave, but he was just as scared as you all were.
“N-No! I need to go to! We need to help them!” you refuse, already trying to walk back to the van, but Jungkook’s arms come around your shoulders and he keeps you pressed to him while you struggled.
“Focus, Y/N! Me and Yoongi are going back, you two go get the car. NOW!”
They were already running back as he speaks, decision already made despite your aching heart. The youngest members pulls you along with him to the cabin, even as your head remains looking back, heart at your throat and praying to any God out there that they were all fine. That everything would be all fine.
“C’mon, Y/N… I’m sorry but we need to get the car and fast.” Jungkook presses, one hand around your back keeping you running forward to the cabin.
“T-They are okay, r-right?” you force yourself to speak despite the lump on your throat. “They can’t b-be… be hurt…”
Your voice ends up dying in your mouth as he looks away with clenched jaws, not able to give you the response you wanted. Not having a response to give, probably being just as terrified as you were. All of his hyungs were back there in danger, relying on him and you to go and get them out. With that in mind, you force yourself to focus on your tasks again.
You try the first key on the lock and it doesn’t fit. Hands shaking, you try the second key. It goes in. You turn it on the lock and a nervous and relieving chuckle escapes you as the mechanism of the latch opens.
“Okay, okay!” you utter as you open the door and get in.
“Right, search for the key of the jeep! Quick!”
Letting go of him, you start searching the small cabin. Every drawer, cabinet, even under the rug gets searched. The plan was cemented around finding this key and getting to the jeep. The key had to be here, it just had to be. You went into the bathroom, even rummaging through the med kits in hopes it was somehow lost in there. It came to you then, that you still had the walkie talkie with you in the bag.
“Kook! I’ll try to ask Taffy on the radio again” you yell out to him, already taking the walkie out of your bag. “Taffy, can you hear me? Taffy, are you there?”
There’s only static. And silence.
The back of your neck breaks into goosebumps. It was silent. The cabin had gone absolutely dead silent. Not a single step, not a single breath, not a single movement was heard.
“Kook?” You step out of the bathroom slowly, wide restless eyes searching around the hallway and peering into the bedroom next to the restroom. Much to your terror, no one’s there. “… J-Jungkook?”
No one answers. You voice cracks as you call for him when walking into the dark living room, tears of distress gathering at your eyes that strained to see with only the moonlight coming in through the windows. The white light bounced off the furniture, the sofa and cabinets and the table. But no Jungkook. There was no one at the cabin. You were suddenly all alone.
“Oh no… oh no…” you whisper into the darkness, completely frozen as you don’t know what to do anymore.
Your body crumbles beneath you and you feel at a complete lost. So, you just do what you’ve been avoiding all this time: you break down and cry. It starts in small sobs but soon you are drenching your hands as they hide your face, crying your heart out.
“CODE RED! CODE RED!”
It all happens so fast you can barely keep up. Eight figures jump out from behind the large sofa on the other side of the room, a loud bang releases a bunch of confetti suddenly into the hair and someone crunches down in front of you with a hand on your shoulder. Through your tears, it takes you a while to realize it’s Jungkook.
“W-What?” is all you manage to say as you sob.
“Damn it, guys! I told you this would make her cry!” a voice you recognized too well says. It was Taffy, standing among the boys with a tray of food in her hand.
“Hey, Y/N, it’s okay, you’re okay” Jimin, who came to squat down next to Jungkook and took your hand into his, says in a calming sweet voice.
“But… the van and the screams…” you whisper back, your brain trying to make sense of the mess you found yourself in.
“Sorry, sunshine! We didn’t mean to scare you this much!” Hoseok apologizes. “Someone dropped a glass cup while we waited and it scared me, so I may have screamed a bit too loud.”
Hoseok shoots a look at Jimin, who whispers another ‘sorry’ to you. Your eyes wonder around all of them and you find yourself staring blankly at Jin, who just shrugs.
“Happy Halloween?” he expresses.
“We may have gone a bit overboard. But we were also trying to prove a point! We agreed to not get each other gifts anymore and you went ahead and planned all of this for us. So, we planned something for you too” Namjoon starts explaining.
“We definitely over did it. She’s crying, hyung!” Taehyung points out, with a guilty expression.
“Yeah, we’re not the best at coming up with a plan at the last minute like this. All of this was just supposed to spook her, not terrify Y/N like this. And there should have been a lot less running!” Yoongi complains.
That brings a chuckle from everyone except you, as you are still processing it all.
“S-So… So, this was all fake? To scare me for Halloween?” you sum up their explanation the best your jumbled brain could.
The guys and your friend all share a look, before answering you in unison.
“Yes.”
Slowly, you stand up, your bulky legs no longer shaking, eyes closed as you inhale deeply and exhale soundly. When you open your eyes again, there are eight pair of worried ones staring at you. And you only had one thing to say.
“I hate all of your stupid faces!”
It’s a lie and they all know it. To apologize and earn your forgiveness, you are suddenly pulled into a group hug by the boys while your friend turns on the lights of the cabin and prepares the fireplace.
You spend the rest of the Halloween night hearing all about their malicious plan, the preparations and outrageous ideas they came up with before settling on this one. You never thought you would be grateful to only have gone through this situation until you heard some of their ‘spookier’ concepts they had. And, although you wouldn’t admit it to them, this would be the Halloween you would tell everyone about until your old years to come. It would be the most memorable Halloween of your life.
Original Request: Can i request a suga one where the reader gets hurt while he’s in a show? Like the reader has to be taken to the hospital? And how he reacts?
“Good luck tonight! I hope you have a great show, as always <3” you typed, a smile crossing your face at the thought of your boyfriend hard at work on stage.
It was the second to last show of the tour and everyone was exhausted. You could hardly remember the last time you saw Yoongi so drained. Even when he was up late in his studio, he at least seemed refreshed in the morning, knowing he made progress. But now… Now he just seemed.. different; like he wasn’t always all there.
You were jolted out of your worried haze by your phone buzzing in your pocket.
“Thanks love <3 I’ll be home soon, just wait for me. Be careful walking home tonight and call me so I know you made it home safe.”
You sighed, tucking your phone back into your pocket, knowing you probably wouldn’t hear from him again tonight. You told yourself over and over again that he’d be home before you knew it, but before you knew it, you missed him all the same. Since the group was gaining popularity so quickly, almost every city on the tour had extra shows added at the last minute. The tour was supposed to have ended over a week ago. You missed Yoongi more than anything, but nevertheless, you were always unbelievably proud of him. Seeing how hard he worked for his fans and to be able to do what he loved all over the world made you love him even more.
You missed the way he’d groan whenever you wanted to go out instead of stay in and relax, or watching him brighten up after his first meal of the day. You even missed waking up to him still snoring and even his tendency to take up the entire bed.
Your head was clouded as you walked through the streets on your way home from work with Yoongi this, Yoongi that. Every so often you’d walk past a window or catch your reflection in a puddle and realize you’d been smiling at the mere thought of him. Even the tiniest things like when he’d yell for you to come see him in the studio so he could ask your opinion about his new tracks or just to have you sit on his lap while he worked, though the working never lasted long in those situations.
You took the same route home every day. Saw the same people, cars, vendors, even the same squirrel in the same tree every single day since the day you started your job. But today was special. Today, you knew that Yoongi would be home tomorrow.
As you walked, you couldn’t help yourself from imagining what it would be like to have him home again; to have him be there waiting for you after a long work day or to hear him running lyrics in the shower. He’d be home for a while this time. At least, longer than usual. The group was taking a break after this tour to relax and get ready for the next round of insanity.
You wanted to do something special for Yoongi when he got home tomorrow. Most of your walk was spent trying to think what he’d like the most. You knew him well enough to know that once he was home, he wasn’t going to want to go anywhere for the next few days, so planning dates was out. You could buy something to spice up his first night home, but then again, he’d been away for so long that “spicing up” probably wouldn’t be very necessary. Suddenly, you were snapped out of your own thoughts by the most amazing smell coming from a few streets over. Immediately you knew what you were going to do for Yoongi. His favorite bakery was just a few blocks off your normal route home from work and he always ranted and raved about how amazing their cakes were, so why not stop and pick him up one?
You headed towards the smell, excitement bubbling in your stomach. He’d be here tomorrow. Just a few more hours. You heard indistinct shouting as you stepped off the curb to cross the street, but were so absorbed in your own thoughts to care. A split second later, you heard nothing at all.
*************
Yoongi had you on his mind, as always. He put every ounce of effort he had into the show, knowing he could see you as soon as it was over, but for some reason, the staff still seemed uneasy. Whenever he was backstage, everyone avoided eye-contact with him and only spoke in hurried whispers to one another. As far as he could tell, the show was running as smoothly as ever, possibly even the best it had run the whole tour. So what was the problem?
During another member’s solo, he took a moment to rush over to their manager and ask what the hell was going on. Why was everyone so on-edge?
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. The show is running fine, people are just worried because it’s the last show of the tour. Come see me after the show.”
He tried to press for more information, but before he had the chance, he was called back out on stage. The whole show, something was bothering him. He felt like there was something people weren’t telling him; something important that he should know. The thought of you kept him going. Knowing the better he performed the prouder of him you’d be and the sooner he could come home to you helped him to put his mind at ease.
The show ran flawlessly from start to finish, with not a single thing out of place, which only put Yoongi more on-edge. Something wasn’t right; something important, and they weren’t telling him.
As soon as the curtain fell and the boys ran backstage, he pulled Namjoon aside.
“Did you notice anything weird during the show? Like people were nervous?”
Namjoon’s smile faded and he nodded.
“I noticed. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure they’d tell us if it was something important. If they’re not telling us, then there’s probably nothing we can do about it.” he reassured him.
“I don’t know, I feel like there’s something they don’t want us to find out about. Something’s up and I want to know what.”
Namjoon nodded in agreement and touched Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Then let’s go find out.”
The two of them turned and marched over to the tour manager, demanding an explanation.
He dismissed them with a wave of the hand and told them they’d talk about it after the photo session. A half-hearted smile played across his face, a thinly veiled attempt at distraction.
Yoongi huffed and stalked off to find his phone, knowing he should have a voicemail from you telling him that you made it home safe. Hearing your voice always calmed his nerves, even if it was just a recording. He rustled through his belongings to get to you, only to find his phone was missing. Panicked, he ran to their manager, asking if he knew where it went.
“I have it. I knew you’d be looking for it and I need you to be focused for at least another hour. You can have it back when the photos are done.”
Yoongi’s hands started to shake as the anger welled up inside him.
“Give me my phone. I’ve been expecting a call and it’s very important that I know I got it.”
The manager slipped Yoongi’s phone back in his pocket.
“You got lots of calls. I told them you were busy. I’ll tell you what they said later. Now go get ready for the fan photos or you won’t be getting it back at all.”
Furious, he clenched his fists in an effort to hold himself back, but upon feeling a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he relaxed, turning to see Namjoon and the rest at his back. They knew how important your call was to him. Checking his phone after a show for it was never a problem before tonight and everyone was starting to worry.
“The tour is over, so your services are no longer required.” Namjoon stated curtly, smiling ever so sweetly at the tour manager. “Oh, and you can return his personal property now or get reported for stealing.”
The manager stood there, dumbfounded, before smirking and assuring them that the tour wasn’t over until the fan photos were done.
Surprisingly, Jin quickly came to the rescue. “The tour is over when we say it’s over. We are the artists and we control our own time. The fan photos will go on as planned, but as we said, your services are no longer necessary. How do you think your bosses will like it when we tell them that you blackmailed us with our own property to do what you want? Or that you’ve neglected to tell us whatever it is that’s so obviously wrong that even the makeup noonas are worried?”
Everyone stood in shock at Jin’s sudden boldness. Sighing, the manager went to hand Yoongi his phone, pulling it away just before he was able to grab it.
“I’m going to give this to you, but only after you swear to me that you’ll handle the consequences.. Whether you like it or not, I’m still the tour manager. If anything goes wrong before you’re back in Seoul, it’s my ass on the line.”
Yoongi nodded and snatched the phone out of the manager’s hand, pushing his way through the other members and stalking away.
The others started to follow him, but Namjoon held out his arm to stop them. “Give him some space. Whatever’s going on he doesn’t need us all butting in. Let him come to us when he’s ready.”
Yoongi unlocked his phone and checked his notifications. Nothing. Nothing on his SNS, no new texts, everything was normal. He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair before pulling himself up and heading over to join the other members.
Everyone was quiet as Yoongi rejoined them. “So? What’s the big news?” Jimin finally asked.
Yoongi just shrugged. “I’m not sure. There were no notifications or anything, so I don’t know what that guy’s problem was.” He pushed the bad feelings from his head, chalking it up to having a bad tour manager who just had a problem with him.
The fan photos and hi-touch seemed to take forever. While he may have been able to calm his nerves after finally getting his phone back, Yoongi couldn’t push the thought of you from his mind. He was constantly thinking about you. He wondered what you were doing, if you missed him, what it would be like to see you again after so long, even things as simple as whether or not you had dinner and if you ate all of his kimchi again.
The rest of the tour activities flew by in a you fueled haze and before he knew it, he was in the van on the way back to the hotel. Usually the van was loud and made it hard to focus, but everyone had a long, stressful day, so hardly a word was said. Yoongi couldn’t wait any longer. He usually liked to wait until he was back at that hotel to call you, but something about today made his need to hear your voice that much stronger.
He pulled out his phone and clicked the phone icon. For some reason, his recent calls were completely full with at least ten from an unknown number and about the same number from you. His blood turned icy and his hands felt like lead. Something was definitely wrong. It took him a long while of staring at the screen and trying desperately to prepare himself mentally for whatever he was about to hear.
Namjoon looked over at Yoongi and knew immediately that something was up. He craned his neck to look over at the screen and saw the multitude of missed calls. Namjoon placed a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder and asked him if he needed a minute. Yoongi nodded hesitantly as Namjoon asked the driver to pull into a nearby parking lot for a moment. By now the rest of the boys knew something was up and were preparing themselves to do whatever they could to help.
The driver pulled into a parking lot and parked, the boys all scrambling out of the back seats, leaving Yoongi alone in the van. They all assured him that whatever it was, they’d help him through it and closed the door.
Yoongi’s hands were trembling and his breath hitched as he dialed your number. With every ring, his heart rate increased, eventually getting to the point that he could feel a pain in his chest. It felt like it rang forever before someone finally picked up. Yoongi couldn’t help but to feel a wave of relief wash over him when the ringing finally stopped.
“Y/n! Y/n what’s going on is everything alright? I’m so sorry, the manager wouldn’t give me my phone after the show and he must have gone through and cleared my notifications so I didn’t even see your calls until just now. Are you okay?”
There was a moment of silence before a deep, husky voice came through the other end. “Is this Min Yoongi?”
Yoongi’s heart went from racing a mile a minute to stopped completely in that instant. Why would a man have y/n’s phone? “Yes this is Yoongi who the hell are you??” Every possible scenario ran through his mind. Had you been cheating on him? No, he thought. You’d never do that to him. Maybe kidnapped by insane fans? There wasn’t enough time for him to even think through all the possible scenarios before the voice came through again.
“My name is Dr. Kim and I’m the head of surgery at Seoul Municipal Hospital.”
Immediately tears sprung to his eyes. Hospital. That was the one word he was hoping not to hear. Something had happened and you had been hurt and he didn’t even know about it. You were hurt and he hadn’t been there to protect you.
“You were the emergency contact for a Ms. y/n, does that sound right?”
Yoongi rubbed his eyes and held his head in his hand. “Yes, she’s my girlfriend. What happened, is she okay?”
“Well, there’s good news and there’s some bad news. It’s up to you which one you want first.”
“Bad news. Give me the worst of it first.” He figured he’d need some good news afterwards just so he wouldn’t break down completely.
“Well, the bad news is, y/n was in a pretty severe accident. She was hit by a speeding driver as she crossed the street.”
Yoongi’s vision started to blur as tears stung at his eyes and he started to feel light headed. None of this would have happened if they hadn’t added extra shows and extended the tour. If only he had been home with you, he thought. Then he would have been able to protect you and this never would have happened.
Finally Yoongi composed himself enough to ask for the good news.
“Well, the good news is, she’s out of surgery and in recovery. She was pretty seriously injured, but she’ll pull through. The worst of it is over, now it’s just a long road of recovery ahead of her. Since you were the emergency contact, you should probably get here as soon as possible. It’ll be good for her to have a familiar face here when she wakes up.”
Yoongi wiped the tears from his face and tried to calm his nerves. You were okay, and that’s all that mattered. “I understand. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please, take good care of y/n… I don’t know what I’d do without her, I can’t lose her..” he pleaded.
“Of course. She’s not totally out of the woods yet, but we’re going to do everything in our power to make her better, please just trust us and get here as soon as you can.”
Yoongi hung up and held his head in his hands as he sobbed. He wasn’t sure if he was sad, or just angry with himself for not being there when you needed him. Just then, the van door slid open and the boys looked at him with eyes wide, no one daring to say a word.
Yoongi looked at them with determination in his gaze. “Get me to the airport. Now.”
*********
You felt warm. The only sensation you could recognize was warmth. Not a physical warmth, but the kind you feel in your chest when you see a loved one after a long time apart, or when you smell something that reminds you of a fond and distant memory. All you could think of was Yoongi’s smile beaming down at you as he watched you rubbing the sleep from your eyes, slanted rays of sun trickling in from between your bedroom curtains. You reached out to touch his face, only to find your hand passed right through it. His smile began to fade as you reached for him again, the image of him slipping farther and farther from your reach. The warmth in your chest began to fade to a dull ache, then a stabbing pain with each breath, a different kind of heat manifesting itself. The kind of searing heat you feel when you get a paper cut or have a bad sunburn. You gasped for air, but it felt as though someone had stretched a hundred rubber bands around your lungs, making it nearly impossible to draw breath.
You forced your eyes open if only for a moment, and all you could see was red and blue lights flashing over head. You heard shouting and frantic footsteps all around you. There must have been some kind of accident, you thought. You wanted to run. You wanted to be able to pick yourself up and get yourself out of there, but you couldn’t move. It wasn’t until you saw the crowd of people gathered around you and felt the cold metal of the stethoscope pressed to your chest that you realized what was happening. There had been an accident. You had been in an accident.
The man standing over you yelled something to his colleagues, then turned to face you again. He said something to you, but you didn’t know what it was. You weren’t even worried about yourself, at that point. All you could think was “Where is Yoongi?” Your mind raced with thoughts of your boyfriend. Where was he? How would he react when he found out you were hurt? Who would be there for him through it all? God forbid, even what he would do if you didn’t make it. Your worry faded away slowly along with your consciousness.
You slowly regained consciousness, one sense at a time what felt like only moments later. You regained feeling first. You felt a deep soreness all over your body. You felt like you hadn’t moved in god knows how long. You next noticed the pain in your chest and the annoyance of the wires and tubes taped and poked and secured all over your body. Next was smell. The air around you smelled sharp; like someone had used too many cleaning products in too small of a space. It was nothing like the place you thought you had just been. The air stung your nostrils and felt cold in your aching lungs. You noticed a light, rhythmic tapping that wouldn’t stop no matter how much you wished it would. Beeps and hisses and commotion somewhere far away.
You forced your eyes open just enough to see blindingly bright lights above you. After a few seconds, the light became bearable and you were able to open your eyes enough to see more clearly. You blinked the sleep from our eyes and looked around. Your hands had tubes and wires attached to them and your leg was elevated in a sling in front of you. You knew you must have been in a hospital. You looked to your left and saw a long list of medications and details of injuries written on a whiteboard. Was that all just for you? “Broken leg, shattered pelvis, cracked ribs/internal bleeding, cracked sternum, etc.” the board read. How long had you been asleep? Did Yoongi make it home alright?
Your mind stopped after that. Yoongi. Where was he? Had he finished the tour alright? Had he made it home safely? Had anyone even told him what had happened to you? You started to panic and breathe more heavily, causing a sharp pain in your chest. You winced from the stabbing feeling.
There was a rustling on the other side of the room as Yoongi sat up from the recliner he had been napping in at your bedside. His hair was a mess and you could tell that he hadn’t slept much lately, judging by the gaunt look of his face and the puffiness of his eyes. As soon as you saw him, your eyes welled with tears. He stretched, rubbing his face to wake himself up.
“Yoongi..” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks.
He stopped, his hands still covering his face. Slowly he moved his hands away from his eyes to see you smiling at him from your hospital bed. As soon as he saw your eyes he rushed to your bedside, almost tripping over an IV stand in the process, any semblance of exhaustion he had now long gone in his excitement. “Y/N! I can’t believe you’re awake they said it’d probably be a few more days before you woke up! How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Water? Should I get a nurse, are you in pain?” He frantically checked over every piece of you Before you finally got his attention long enough for him to stop talking.
“Yoongi, what happened? How long was I out?”
“You really don’t remember what happened?”
You shook your head before realizing that was a bad idea from the stabbing pain that shot through your neck and down your back with each movement. “The last thing I remember is that I decided to stop by that bakery you like so much before going home from work to get you something for when you came home. After that, everything is blank.
Tears spilled over Yoongi’s face and you heard him sniffle. “I shouldn’t have gone on tour again. Or I should have taken you with me. If I’d fought them harder to bring you with us none of this would have happened..”
“That’s not true and you know it. You love what you do and I would never ask you to stop touring for me. And I couldn’t go on tour with you even if they had allowed it. I have a job and a life here, I can’t just drop it all and come on the road for months at a time. I knew what I was getting myself into when I said yes to you. I don’t blame you for this and you shouldn’t blame yourself either, okay?”
He nodded and wiped the tears from his face, kissing your hand softly, like you were some kind of doll that might crack and fall apart at the slightest touch.
“So what happened to me?”
He sighed and climbed into the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your head into his chest. “They told me that you were hit by a speeding driver on your way to the bakery. Apparently they were going way over the speed limit and not paying attention to the stop sign when you were crossing the street. You’ve been knocked out for twelve days…” His voice cracked, then trailed off. “They weren’t sure when or even if you’d wake up again.. I was so afraid y/n.. I was so scared that I was going to lose you and there’d be nothing I could do about it.” You felt his shaky breaths as he let out a sob and gripped you like you were at risk of fading away.
You pulled away from his chest and cupped his cheek in your hand. “But you didn’t lose me. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m here and I’m getting better and nothing is going to take me away from you, so no more tears, okay? It’s gonna take more than one bad driver to get rid of me.” you assured him.
“I love you so much, y/n. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you like that.”
“I love you too, Yoongi. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. You’re my forever, remember?” You felt sleep beginning to take over again as your eyelids started to droop. You let out a yawn and snuggled in closer to your boyfriend.
He smiled as he watched you drift off back to sleep, suddenly hyper-aware of not only your breathing and the feeling of having you in his arms, but also the small lump he’s had in his pocket, waiting for you to wake up and claim it. He opened the small box and set it on the bedside table for when you finally woke. “That’s right y/n. You’re my forever.”
Hey guys! i know I promised you that new Yoongi fic last week, but it’s turning out to be a lot longer than I originally planned (but that means more content for you!) so it’s taking a bit longer. I’m almost finished, so bear with me and get excited!
Summary: Yoongi suddenly starts giving you the cold shoulder, causing you to distance yourself from him and the rest of the members. But the reason behind his behaviour is not what you think.
Yoongi x f!reader
Genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort
WC: 4.5k
Watching BTS perform through a screen was entertaining and exciting. Watching them perform live was magical and an experience you would never forget. Watching them perform up close from the wings of the stage was a privilege that came with being Yoongi’s girlfriend, and one you would forever be grateful for.
Of course, you weren’t just dating Yoongi to watch their concerts, you loved him inside and out, the good and the bad, the idol side of him and the real side of him. And no matter how many times you watched them practice, rehearse and perform their songs, you would never get tired of watching them do what they loved.
summary- An accidental brush of Yoongi’s fingers suddenly leads to so much more.
word count- 3.1k
pairing- idol!Yoongi x best friend!Reader
rating- R
genre- idolau, smut, fluff, f2l
warnings- Yoongi in that airport fit with that beautiful luscious hair, reader is obsessed with Yoongi’s fingers, finger sucking, hair pulling, dry humping to completion… yes you read that right
a.n- So after I read @kithtaehyung‘slike that, I went to bed and this is the wild dream I had. Full fantasy fulfilment for ya girl here ngl. A big thank you to @m-yg93 for beta reading and screaming with me.
❃ This fic was written as part of Festivaled Away: Burning Memories hosted by @bangtanbathhouse | ticket: concert/show, main event: musical artist au, games: oral fixation.
The play was heinous. An over the top telling of feminist virtues that was so heavy handed it left a bitter taste in your mouth. And it was a musical. You’re a feminist, of course, but the playwright’s utter discounting of the audience’s intelligence left must to be desired. But Yoongi’s friend was in it and so you tagged along when he asked you to come, weak to your best friend’s whiny pout.
It’s not easy being friends with someone who has a mob of fans around him at all times. Perhaps if you were a man it would be easier, but for now you were relegated to the middle of the small audience while he and his two bodyguards sat front and center. How’s that for feminism?
If it wasn’t bad enough that you had to sit through a man’s awful retelling of the feminist movement, the playwright thought of handing out a quiz at the end just to be quirky. It was worse than any pop quiz in your high school history class, full of questions about dates and people you were sure were part of the play but you had glossed over in an effort to stay awake. The cherry on top was the title: So are you really a feminist?
Blech.
Using the same tactic you used in highschool you added your name on top and then proceeded to check C for every answer, barely bothering to read the questions. It had been three hours and Yoongi definitely owed you for not dozing off. Perhaps you could convince him to take you to a fancy dinner as a reward. Your stomach grumbled at the thought as you handed the sheet back to one of the many people in black roaming around. With an ominous soundtrack, you realized to your eye rolling horror that the lead would not only be grading everyone but announcing the results one by one — for the entire audience of over fifty people.
He started from the back row, calling every individual by name, marking their test and then playing a tune on a little keyboard placed next to him. You had no idea what the tunes meant. The lead himself said nothing but the name, and you could feel your annoyance at the subpar play increase with every little chime that blasted through the speakers. It was one thing to make people endure the garbage writing, it was another to play this travesty of a mind game.
You barely registered when your name was called, rolling your eyes as he played a somewhat melancholic tune, the major scale not uplifting it in the least. Well, at least you knew that only half the room was left. Great.
You zoned out for most of the rest till your best friend’s name was called. Well not his name, his stage name. “Suga!” the man announced to the surprise of the room that had somehow missed him entering earlier. Apparently, a white mask was a pretty good disguise. While the rest of the room was whispering amongst themselves, trying to decipher if the cheery tune meant that their favourite idol was a feminist or not, you couldn’t help but giggle. Did he seriously use his stage name on the test?
Thankfully, the end of the tests meant the end of the evening, with the cast coming out centre stage to bow to the cheering audience. Before the lights came on you spied your friend and his guards making their way to the side entrance, taking it as your cue to finally leave and meet up in the tunnel underground so you both could leave together. Sure, it was more tedious than leaving out the front door, but it was definitely less tedious than having some fan snap a photo of the two of you together. The last thing you needed as a budding artist was a scandal with a pop star, even if there was nothing scandalous happening between you.
Sneaking down the stairs, you heard the commotion coming from the people leaving from the play, Yoongi’s name distinctly coming through the cacophony. It made you laugh a little. It hit you sometimes how the shy, awkward boy from your small hometown was now the talk of the world. It was bizarre. People had multiple thirst accounts dedicated to him — ones that you had of course used to annoy him — but you could never see the sexy Suga they portrayed. To you, he was just Yoongi, annoyingly cocky, often moody Yoongi.
“Hey, good timing,” your best friend’s voice rang through the hallway as he walked over to you, playbill in one hand and the other moving through his long dark hair. One look at him in the white shirt and blue jeans, and you knew that any pictures sneaked of him today would be making Twitter explode in a few hours.
“You owe me like five dinners after this,” you complained, starting your tirade against the terrible production as Yoongi grimaced, the mask under his chin crumpling with his expression. Eyes rolling, he shoved you away as the two of you waited for the car to pull up.
“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Yoongi asked, frowning and pulling his mask off in the car. The two of you were sitting in the back row of the SUV, leaving the front row empty so as not to be photographed. He slouched in his seat, pulling out his phone by force of habit.
“Wasn’t that bad? Yoongi!” you exasperated. “It was so bad! I hated it so much! I almost fell asleep.” He just chuckled in response, used to you ranting about every piece of media. He hummed along to your critiques, laughing at how thoroughly put off you were by the quiz at the end.
“Honestly, I just circled all C,” he confessed and you couldn’t help the giant laugh that overcame you. There was a reason you both were so close. However his confession reminded you of another thing.
“You put Suga as your name,” you giggled, watching his eyes narrow as he looked at you, thoroughly unamused.
“That’s my name,” he shrugged.
“Oh is that what it says on your passport? Is that what you put on your SATs?” you teased, grinning widely as your friend struggled to remain deadpan, fighting his own smile. “I’m Suga,” you mimicked in a deep baritone hearing his annoyed whine you loved so much.
“Stop! Shut up,” he whined, a hand coming up on your lips but between your laughs, he had somehow missed the mark. Instead of his palm landing on your lips, somehow two of his fingers ended up in your mouth, the laughter between you immediately silencing.
You didn’t know what came over you. If anyone asked, you’d tell them it was brain rot from the terrible 3 hour long tragedy you had sat through. Yet your lips closed around his fingers, tongue licking at the pads as you sucked.
At your movement the smile on Yoongi’s face turned lopsided, his eyes bright as he watched the way the top of his fingers disappeared between your scarlet painted lips. He didn’t know where he got the courage, but after a small pause he was pushing his fingers in further, relishing the way your eyes widened. Before either of you knew it, he was pumping his fingers in and out, your mouth suctioning them in a way that ruined your panties and tented his pants.
“Fuck,” he murmured, his other hand going to your waist out of its own accord, pulling you closer. It seemed your tenth grade crush was back in full force, beating your heart in submission as you climbed onto his lap, tongue laving at his digits, face burning at the little groan that escaped his lips at your actions. You could feel him hard beneath you, your dress riding up to give you the perfect opportunity to grind against him. His hand on your waist tightened at the action before trailing to the other side and pulling you against his chest, the flush on his face matching yours.
The car stopped then, indicating your arrival at Yoongi’s apartment and jarring the two of you back to reality. His fingers left your mouth with a lewd smack, a line of saliva connecting the two of you before you were scrambling to climb over the seat in front to get out, your best friend following suit.
The elevator ride was awkward, quiet and still, except for the loud beating of your heart. It was a novel development that made your skin prickle, carrying even when the two of you were in the apartment and on his couch. He poured you a drink, sitting stiffly next to you, humming in response to your thank you. If someone looked in they would assume that you were strangers, sitting ramrod straight, fist distant apart, sipping on your drinks. But being friends for so long had made Yoongi blunt.
“So you sucked on my fingers,” he began, your face flushing in horror as your head spun to look at him.
“I did no such thing,” you retorted, putting the glass on the table and crossing your arms over your chest. Yoongi just stared at you, mouth open in disbelief and brows furrowed.
“Yes you did!” he exclaimed, slamming his glass down too, turning on the couch to face you.
“No I definitely did not,” you chuckled fakely, needing him to just forget your momentary loss of sanity. However, Yoongi was a petty little bitch and instead of following your lead and pretending that nothing ever happened, he just brought his fingers back to your lips, shocking you into somehow having his fingers back in your mouth. He smirked as your lips closed around his knuckles once again, the mischievous look in his eyes only brightening as he pushed deeper and deeper till you could feel them at the back of your throat, the skin between his fingers marked by your lipstick. Narrowing your eyes at his sudden lewd curiosity, you ran your tongue between the two digits, enjoying the way his smile dropped, his mouth slacking and his own tongue poking at his lips while he stared at you. And then he pressed on the back of your tongue, earning a moan you tried your best to suppress, your pussy fluttering in need.
But Yoongi wasn’t the only petty one in this friendship, with a quick hand you pulled his hair, if only to break him out of the staring match he seemed to be having with your mouth, expecting him to break out of the lust.
Except he moaned.
Loud and needy, the sound rattled around his silent apartment and set your skin on fire. His hand slackened, falling out of your mouth, your spit trailing down your lips. You had never thought about your friend this way, but with the dazed look on his face, you acted on autopilot, your other hand burying itself in his soft silky hair and tugging again.
“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes closing as he leaned back, legs stretched as if taunting you with a throne. He remained slack when you took his silent invitation, climbing into his lap, and matching his fiery gaze. When you tugged his hair again, he mewled, hips rising and hands gripping your waist, your name escaping him in a whimper. Arms locking you against his chest, there were centimeters between your grins and somehow the proximity made you giggle, his own snickers joining yours till your forehead was resting against his.
“When did you get so hot?” you asked between your chuckles as he looked at you from under his eyelashes, pink dusting his cheeks and arms tightening around you. He looked away a little shyly, burying his face in your neck as he inhaled, leaving goosebumps on the skin where his breath ghosted.
“Must be the idol skincare,” he joked, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke, making you shiver, your hips rutting gently against his before he was sitting up straight again, a hand cupping your face. “Can I admit I’ve always found you hot now?”
He spoke more to your lips than you, but Yoongi had always had trouble making eye contact for too long. His words rang in your head, warmth blooming through you as your breath hitched. But the flurry in your head only increased when his tongue poked out, the tip licking at your spit glistening on your lips, making it your turn to moan. The movement was so slow, so tentative, so gentle that it left sparks behind, ones that spread from your lips to your face and down your chest, igniting your heart.
With your tenth grade self jumping in glee in your head, you crashed your lips onto his, fervent and eager. He matched your pace, gasping a little at the sudden move, his tongue meeting yours again and again till you felt drunk off of it, his name echoing through your head and landing on his lips.
Your moans were a melody, harmonizing together as the two of you wrapped your arms around each other but it wasn’t long till his hands were wandering, fingers gripping onto every piece of flesh from your chest to your thighs to your ass. It was like you were combusting, your body in hyperdrive fueled by the way his teeth dug into your bottom lip.
“This is what you wanted in the car, didn’t you,” he teased, teeth blooming roses on your neck as he met each grind of your hips with one of his own, his cock brushing tantalizingly to your centre. “First sucking my fingers and then grinding that pretty little pussy all over me. You gonna stain my pants, baby?”
Yoongi had never spoken this way to you, his dirty words making you gasp. A gasp he took full opportunity of to dive his tongue back into you, sloppy and needy. It was like he had been replaced by someone else, someone who knew every nerve in your body.
“I don’t need a play by play, Yoongs,” you panted, fingers stroking his scalp eliciting a deep groan from him. You wanted him to stop talking, unaware of how much you could take of his dirty mouth, lust coursing through you in waves he controlled with each undulation of his hips.
“You sure? You wanna be surprised?” he taunted, lips moving over your chest, mouth capturing a nipple over your dress, the red satin darkening as his tongue found the peak and roamed it. Before you knew it, he was flipping you over, laying you against the couch. “Don’t wanna know how I’ve been dreaming of making you cum on the couch since I was fifteen?”
“Fifteen?” you moaned, the new angle aligning the seam of his jeans right at your clit, the earlier pressure amplified by his weight now on top of you.
He hummed in response, mouth now working on your other nipple, sending currents through you. Perhaps it was the nostalgia, the fulfilment of a teenage crush, but you felt on the edge already, your chest rising and falling rapidly as he basically dry humped you. A hand on your hip and the other squeezing your chest, his lips suckled at the sensitive crook of your neck, igniting your nerves to technicolor. “Cum with me, cum for me. Please,” he pleaded, motions haphazard and you felt the coil in your stomach wind impossibly tight with his fingers now pinching your nipple.
And then he bit you, sunk his teeth against your skin and it was as if he had electrocuted you, each limb vibrating with energy as your pussy clenched around nothing, your hands tugging his hair at the root. He groaned, loud and raspy, the sound pulling from his chest and reverberating through you as he whispered your name breathlessly, dropping his entire weight on you.
You could hear nothing but your blood pounding and Yoongi’s hard breathing, an unfamiliar combination that suddenly felt so natural. Your arms wrapped around him as you caught your breath, holding him tight as he reciprocated, arms winding under you.
After a few moments he leaned up on his elbows with an impossibly large smile, gums on full display and nose scrunched into a button. His hair stuck out all over his head, messy and tangled and you couldn’t help but laugh, not only at how silly he looked but how you ended up in this situation.
He joined in, kissing you again softly, lips meeting yours once, twice, three times, till he was nuzzling his nose into yours.
“Can’t believe we just came in our pants like teenagers,” you murmured, too amused to be embarrassed.
“Can’t believe we didn’t do this as teenagers,” Yoongi commented, sitting up and pulling you up with him till you both were settled next to each other. You could see a very obvious wet stain on his blue jeans but the man was unbothered, leaning back with his legs spread as if he was proud, an arm around your shoulders.
Your giggles died down after a while, the two of you sitting in silence. You waited for the panic to come, the earth shattering realization that you had just made out, quite wildly, with your best friend, but nothing ever did. You were just content, a goofy grin on your face that matched his as his fingers played with yours on your lap.
“Any chance you’ve had a crush on me since we were kids too or am I gonna have to write another sad song?” he asked, looking at the floor, his smile a little dim but still there like he couldn’t control it. It was endearing, making flowers bloom within your veins.
You leaned over kissing his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder, lacing your fingers between his. “Guess it’s only cheesy love songs from now on.”
“Seriously?” he asked, looking down at you, his eyes wide in surprise. You didn’t know what he expected, but then again he didn’t know you had dreamt of the exact same scenario since you were fifteen too.
“Seriously,” you replied, kissing him once again. He deepened the kiss, his tongue making the earlier heat return before he was standing up, pulling you to him.
“Fuck yes cause I really can’t wait to show you what my fingers can really do,” he whispered giddily making you roll your eyes at his lame flirting.
“Less tell, more show,” you deadpanned only to get kissed again hungrily as he pulled you to his bedroom, a “Yes ma’am” easily flowing off his lips.
You giggled as you fell into his bed, happy that your sudden oral fixation was worth more than just the embarrassment that came with it.
⤷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.”
When your whole world revolves around one boy, but destiny sets you with a unexpectedly expected man.
♡Pairing:Yoongi × reader ft. Jimin
♡Genre:brother’s friend, only old crush, heartbreak, college oc au.
♡Summary:you’re over him, a new world sets in front of you. But the heartbreak you both got at the same time is not what you have had thought of. It must be the destiny to set you with your only old crush Yoongi. But still you ain’t prepared for the third heartbreak in a row, what if he breaks your heart again?
♡Warnings:fluff, smut, angst, heartbreak, like flooded with tears, oc is so sweet, confusion, misunderstanding, crush , breakup, traitor, betrayal, brother’s bestfriend, roommate, college oc, angst shower smut, smokey, dirty talk, seokjin is oc’s brother, he’s a dick, yoongi is a Heartbreaker, jimin is also a dick, expectations ruined, one-shot.
I have always been ambitious, my mother said. Tunnel vision once I set my mind onto something. I have always wanted many things. And have always found my way to get my hands on them — no matter what. I wanted many things. I have never wanted someone.
And I reckon, It’s a whole lot different than wanting objects.
There is nothing more depressing than the sight of a lady wanting so much from a man that doesn’t know anything about her desire. Hoping for the ripple effect of her desperation would somehow reach him through telepathy. How do you teach your brain to think like your heart? Knowing fully well that they are of different makings? One, thoughts; another, thuds. Connecting the dots with careful calculations, dealing with mathematics is much easier than dealing with emotions. It’s making you physically sick, dizzy, discombobulated.
The last time you felt this severely vulnerable was when you considered leaving your professional field to be an artist. You already prepared the dialogues in your head and answers to questions they might ask. And by experience, you also know that sometimes they don’t ask the question you thought they would. And that’s where the trouble arises.
You caught Seokjin in a pretentious glance to feign hard work. Provided his long legs, he got next to you from behind in no time.
“You look like a drug addict at the sight of your drug dealer after a rehab, could you calm it down?” He spoke in a soft but hushed tone. His eyes darted at random places in the room, to mask the fact that he too was actually looking at Yoongi—who was in fact underneath a blistering machine fixing and aligning the foil and PVC with his capable hands.
“What are your plans?” Seokjin glides his eyes and himself to the side where you are, curious and in a serious undertone. “It’s a little drastic but it might work,” you matched his tone. “Sounds a little rapey but sure, I trust you,” Seokjin nods. “Why on earth would it even go there, I didn’t even say anything remotely sexual,” you grimaced. “Rapey — as in intrusive of one’s personal space,” he adds. “Like what you are doing to me right now,” you spat.
He glides his rolling chair away, mouthing, “Fair.”
Yoongi could not understand why it was so difficult to screw the nuts in. He had multiple mishaps to face today and one of them is the no. 12 spanar isn’t in the toolbox, and the WD-40 anti-rust spray is missing for the nth time today. To add to the problem, the PVC roll broke in half because the new kid he is training, slipped them out of his hand. To which he had to request Seokjin, the executive to order a new roll since he clocked in pretty early.
His knees are bruised from kneeling for hours by this machine and already, he had to go for training for a newly installed packing machine. The engineers asked him when he was free. To be fucking honest, his only free time is his break time.
One final twist and it’s screwed. He pulls the foil roll into the feeder, and lets in extra length to finalize the alignment measurements. Then, he let the machine run. It stamps perfectly. He instructed the new kid to watch the machine as he cleaned up. He wipes his greasy hand with a rag he found. He knelt, yet again, by the tool box to hear the door open and close. It was you.
He placed the tools he used one-by-one into the toolbox and when he got to the last one, your hands snatched them faster.
“What do you need a WD-40 spray for?” He asked but not really asking, motioning his hand to take them from you. Repeatedly. “Do something for me…” you demanded, timidly. “No,” he darted. “One thing, please,” you added.
“I just did overtime yesterday, I will not do another one no matter how much you’ll pay,” he assumed.
Realizing he stood firmly on his stand, you resorted to, as you said to Seokjin, drastic measures. You hoped and prayed that you didn’t have to, but knowing Yoongi as long as you did, you have expected this degree of complication to take place.
You took Yoongi’s spanner and went to run with it. You bolted to the doors.
“What in the fuck—” You heard Yoongi cussed breathlessly, moaning how he has no time for this.
“That thing is heavy, fucking christ,” he mumbled tiredly.
Standing outside the glass doors, you held on the handles like it was your lifeline. Speaking of lifelines, your plan only works if Yoongi was in it. And the chance for him to be in it, is zero to none.
He could push the door if he wanted. He could do it with one hand. The strength you had mustered in both arms is a quarter of his left arm. But he assessed the situation diligently in a quick second and he knows that if he exerted more than that, you’ll get hurt. What is making you behave that way?
He lets go of the handle for you to set the spanner he wanted on the floor opposed to the door. There is no way for him to take the spanner without tackling you down first. With the glass doors between you both, sounds do not transfer, so you’ll have to communicate with sign languages.
You kick the spanner further away with your leg and toes. He groans and tilt his head back, baring his throat columns where his peony tattoos were. It distracted you. That’s new isn’t it?
Almost at the point of drooling, he tried to open the door so he could get to his tools but you were absolutely persistent.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he shakes his head, pinching his forehead between his thumb and fingers, “I got shit to do!” He fusses.
Poking through the gap of the door, you said, “Are you going to help me or not? You help me, I give you your tools back,” you parlayed.
You closed the door and he steps back to undo his facemask, mouthing a delicious, succulent, “Fuck you,” he smirks.
You chuckled dryly and turned to him once more to show him your glorious middle finger before taking his spanners with you. With confident strides you walk along the long auto-lit hallway and somewhere between your steps, you hear the door behind you open and close.
“What do you want…” his voice, gritty with an attractive rasp.
You tugged a smile on your lips and turned to him.
“Buy me a meal,” you said and he made a confused expression. So you motioned a fork and spoon with your hands and smiled.
Yoongi replied with a snarky expression, bit his smile and challenged you through the glass door as if to say, “You wanna try me?”
Seeing that he won’t say yes easily, you took the spanner with you. So he hollered from the distance, “McDonald’s? Or Burger King?”
“Burger King!” You replied just as loud. “The spanner!” “After I get the meal!”
So persistent.
“What do you want?” He said at the self-order counter.
He taps on the touchscreen for ‘Eat In’ option, and bolts at the onion rings the same time you did.
“You too???” You beamed.
“Yeah, the onion rings here are great,” he said through an expressionless face, shoving one when it was placed on the tray, he wiped his hand on the back of his overalls and paid for the food as promised.
Now seated on the semi-empty fast food chain, Yoongi glances at you who is unwrapping the burger you ordered. He sets his limp crossbody sling bag on the empty chair next to him. His jumpsuit was unzipped up till the middle of his chest between his nipples, revealing the white shirt he was wearing underneath. At work, the multiple chains (read: dogtag, celtic cross and wolf fang) would have caused an issue but if worn underneath the jumpsuit, hidden away from prying eyes, one could escape suspension. The rules are high-school worthy, but that’s how the management wants to be conceived.
“What do you mean by ‘do something’?” Yoongi broke the silence with his gritty voice, fingers nimble on the onion he plans to shove in his mouth next, trying to rake his brain on the enigma that is you.
“I just wanted to have food,” you shrugged. Hoping the lie would be enough but deep down you know Yoongi is suspicious. Yoongi spreads his knees and reclines further back into his chair, lasering menacing gaze on your deceit. Despite him leaning, his bony tattooed wrist still extends over the expanse of the tables’ edge. His other elbow is on the other chair on his right. He cranes his neck back then to the side, and you could see a rough uncolored draft on them. The columns of his throat as he swallowed a thick gulp — such a delicious sight.
“Do I look like four to you?” You clicked your tongue, “On some days…” You begin. He begins to zip his jumpsuit and gather his sling bag, eyes darted at the exit and he clicks his tongue. You clawed his sleeve before he could go any further; the sleeves that he had rolled up his elbows.
“Let me!” you hurried to say and softened when you met his gaze in a brief glance upward from your seated position, “Explain.”
Seokjin crosses his arm whispering, “Yoongi will not pretend, take it from me.”
“I realized that we started off our tumultuous relationship from a misunderstanding that continued to pile on as we worked together and I know now that you weren’t as bad as I painted you to be,” you gulped. Yoongi is back seated on the chair.
Flashes of the words from the period drama you watched alone. The main character persuaded his love interest. Flashback end. Flashes begin. Standing across the table staring at Seokjin, you asked timidly, “Then what do you propose?” Flashback end.
Sometimes I learn to love from the TV screen. I mimicked their words and copied their intonation. To pretend to have feelings. Or to remember feelings, having been devoid of them for so long.
“After the time we’ve spent and how you’ve helped me out with the car and at work, I found out that I’ve been microscopically focusing on your bad qualities instead of the good because I was terrified of…” you fiddled with your nails, gazing down at your lap, “Terrified of liking you.”
Seokjin gazes to the side, at the window panels overlooking the road, “If he can’t pretend, then you’ll have to.”
I have to do this Yoongi.
“And I wonder if you’d consider,” you took a deep breath and forced yourself to look at him, “…Me.”
You can almost hear the crows flying across the room filling the silence that has been casted upon the whole restaurant. Actually, the crows were flying inside the restaurant and the staff are clamoring over them to shoo them out.
Yoongi straightens up in his seat. The way that whole day seems constructed, no, orchestrated to seem like a movie makes him wary. How it unfolds, how it came to be— they’re all so suspicious. He slouched forward and he brought his hand together, lacing each fingers like a prayer.
“What are you plotting, madam?”
I have to be more convincing. He’s not buying.
Yoongi has always been empathetic. According to Seokjin’s experience, if ever Seokjin needed help to fill in a specialist vacant spot, Seokjin would be honest about why the spot is vacant. Whether their motorcycle tires are busted, or their wife’s in labor, Yoongi would chime in. And by experience, you know that Yoongi would drop forks and spoons to help someone with something they couldn’t help with. Didn’t matter if it was a carefully-made lie. And the worst is, Yoongi kept falling for it.
Blinking to the side with your head hung down, you gulped. You didn’t say another word, just a dry scoff, too short a chuckle to hide a broken heart. Your lips pressed into a thin line. You don’t plan to say another word. You want the silence to eat him alive. Convincing, sometimes isn’t about speaking out, or throwing out big emotions; sometimes it can be in the silence. Because when emotion is at play, no words could compensate. Utilizing Yoongi’s strong sense of quiet empathy, you know that this was enough to dissuade his accumulating distrust. Sensing the change in the air, Yoongi’s head dropped and leaned back hoping to see the bigger picture of this strange confession that seemed to manifest out of nowhere. The longer you stayed silent, the heavier, the thicker, the more suffocating — the atmosphere became.
His knitted brows, the creases of his skin between, the lines in his forehead and the little shake of his head signifies a demanding confusion. Then he remembered the look, the gaze you held on him when he was catering you not too long ago. The lingering eyes, the stare. It adds up, doesn’t it?
“You have to understand,” He begins, clasping and unclasping his hand as he spoke in whispers, “I have never seen you in that way before, it has always been work and wanting to lend a hand where it fits,” and I am aware how it looks for you right now that I may have crossed a thin-line but for some reason, I can’t decide if it was love or coworker-ship and I can’t risk both. Yoongi clenched his eyes shut like it pains him to say it out loud, “But you’re my superior. It won’t look right for both of us.”
You swung your head to the side, nail digging into your Prada purse. The leather skin peeling off, unsure if it was his voice or his words that was wavering your fragile strength. This was something the dramas didn’t teach. Suddenly, it almost felt real and you tune your heart out to protect it.
“You’re not answering,” you shake your head, your smile faltering, “I asked if you would consider me… not the executive me, not your superior—me, the one you took riding, the one you cooked for, the one you listened to— me.”
The reflection of you in his eyes, his fluttering lashes as he figures out what to say. His mouth moves, and they sputter words that sound foreign to you. It is almost as if you’ve gone deaf, and you watched the shape of his lips to make sense of what he was saying and by delay, the words string into your head to form a sentence— all you could hear was ringing, high pitch ringing in your ear. The time moves agonizingly slowly and you sat there frozen, and taking it all in.
A week went by. And then. Two weeks went by.
In your room, there’s a large corkboard. Unfolding the blueprint of the house you wanted, you have thumbtacks piecing all its four-corners. There were pictures of Yoongi surrounding his name card— his interest, his tattoos, the pros and cons you see in him. Your domineering mother and passive father and the qualities they might search for in a son-in-law. The strings connect towards the house; this pretentious status of the house your mother wanted you to have because it would increase your family’s societal status.
”I am already so very successful, mother!” “Really? Where is your house? Your land? Who would believe you?”
Unmarried. No prospect. A burden.
Smiling towards the corkboard, next to an open luggage on the floor, you said, “He didn’t say no.” Yoongi didn’t say no. These past two weeks, you were on a business trip to town, representing the production department in the annual meeting for the headquarters based in Seoul. These past few weeks, your only source of entertainment was Seokjin who was updating you on all the field gossip while you were away. In a phone call, Seokjin mentions something peculiar about Yoongi.
“He had been taking a lot of overtime lately,” Seokjin sighs into the phone, “Without me even asking… d’you think it has something to do with what happened in Burger King that day?”
“It might have…” “What did he say?” “He didn’t say no.” “But he didn’t say yes either, did he?”
Silence from your side, but your smile remains as you reminisce Yoongi’s voice when asked for time to decide, in Burger King that day.
“Did you tell him that doing too much overtime could kill him?” you switched in your seat. “Yeah-yeah I did. But he kept saying that he needed to do something.”
“Which was?” “Dunno.”
Yoongi had the day you returned to work, off. With his bike, clad in black, his black leather jacket and work boots, he walks into a pawnshop. Upon entering, the young boy at the cash register leaves to the back and an older heavily built man replaces him. He wore big chains on his neck, had gold teeth that were apparent when he smiled at Yoongi. Yoongi took off his helmet and greeted him with his chin. A wad of cash was placed on the counter for the older man to take. He combs through the stack of money with a wry smile.
“You can count them out, I’ll wait,” Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly. The older man passes the cash to his son who disappeared into the back to take out something from the safe deposit.
This is the something that he needed to do. Recovering his grandmother’s vintage wedding ring. The day that she had to pawn her ring was the day Yoongi went to interview to obtain the job he has now. He promised her on her deathbed that when he could afford to, he would take them back to her.
And so he rides to the cemeteries. With white baby breaths in hand, Yoongi crouches by his grandmother’s name plate, fiddling with the vintage ring he recovered, burdened by the thoughts of the future, something he had never even imagined because Yoongi had always been living in the present.
“Because you said, when a girl spoke to me about feelings, I should tell you first,” he said, his eyes squinting at the glaring sun, “This is me telling you.”
He dug a small shallow hole and placed the ring inside, “And this is the promise I’ve fulfilled. Permission to be happy now, gramma.” The smile his grandmother wore on her portrait now didn’t seem crestfallen like how he remembered it to be. Call him delusional, but she actually looked happy. He walks away feeling like the weight on his shoulder was lifted entirely. He took one last look at his grandmother’s grave and the baby breath he had left, the velvet box the ring came with on top of her name plate next to her portrait — a redefining leap. A fresh start. To the new Yoongi.
It was a little over 6.30pm when Yoongi clocked in for his night shift for the week when he saw you still seated in your office with your face lit by the PC screen. You were skimming through files and keeping up with the changed production plan while you were away. You stood up to update the rosters for your supervisors and machine specialists to see. This is to inform them about the changes and they were required to arrange a task force accordingly. Seokjin might have notified them verbally and through text but this is a formal briefing as per SOPs. Earbuds in your ear to keep you company when you catch the scent of freshly brewed coffee lurking in the dark office. Yoongi enters with a thermos and two mugs.
Looking over your shoulder, you eyed him suspiciously.
“Did you know, the largest spanner in this factory weighs about 2.5 kg?” He pours coffee in the mugs, takes his and leaves behind a smaller spanner and retrieves the heavier one you had been withholding from him. He walks backward, one hand holding his mug, the other shaking the large spanner, and he said, “This one’s 1.1kg.” A smile crept on your face. He disappears into the dark hallway. And you sped to the door sill.
“So it’s a date?!” you yelled from where you are, hoping it reaches him, whose silhouette is apparent underneath the automated light in the hallway. “No time this week!” you could hear him smiling, he continued walking.
“Next week then?!” “No!”
That was how it began. Yoongi is doing the trades like you did. Like how you earned Burger King from him. The spanner is the symbol of trade. By leaving behind the spanner to you, he is giving you the benefit of the trade, the power. So you returned them to him. The issue here now is time. And suddenly, Yoongi was bludgeoned with looks and nudged from you, asking “Date?” A folded sticky note that reads, “Date?” Over time, you’ve gotten creative, and almost exposed yourself in pursuing Yoongi.
The “Dates?” were asked through the passover windows, written and folded in his locker, in his boots, inside his helmet, in all his pockets, in his toolbox. Time and time again, he crosses his arm at you, shakes his head and mouthed, “No.”
You sent a screenshot of your Google search to Seokjin. It reads, “How to ask a guy on a date?” followed by, “How to attract an INTP” then, “How to date.”
Seokjin [10:09pm] : Yikes. Seokjin [10:00pm] : Sorry I asked. “H. E. L. P,” you replied.
Seokjin calling…
“Maybe you’ve been too forward, like, the poor dude got spooked,” he starts. “Wow okay,” you grunt.
From the conversation with Seokjin, it seemed like too much effort isn’t attractive. Fair enough, you should have known when the first 3 of your 25 tries didn’t come to fruition. In dramas you watched, the girl wouldn’t have to ask. According to Seokjin, Yoongi would prefer a more intimate approach.
“ Maybe cut down the asking from 25 in a day to perhaps 1 or two—” Seokjin trailed. “ —a day?” “A week,” to this response from Seokjin, you frowned. Face crumpled.
“Inefficient, I wouldn’t have time, I need the house by mid-year next year,” you scribbled down the timeline. “Now, let’s not think of the time. You can’t rush trust,” Seokjin instructs, “You have to be patient.” “I’m a burnt out underpaid and overworked executive, I can’t afford to be patient,” you spat.
Seokjin rubs his face down, “Relationship to Yoongi, heck, to anyone is like a marathon. The finish line being the relationship itself. It’s not how you start, it’s how you end. It’s never about speed, it’s about sustainability, stealth and commitment.”
“Speak to me like an engineer, you make zero sense right now,” you massaged the temples of your head.
Machines, calculations, mathematics— connecting the dots from one end to the other have always been simple to me. All the things the world finds complicated have always made sense to me and for that reason, perhaps, other things people thought as simple weren’t so to me. They don’t appeal to me, much less matter to me. It was when I began to work with people that I realized how much facial expressions could say without words. Being direct has always been easy, but now that I know emotions others have, I tend to think more, learn more.
Have I been neglecting my heart for so long, I forgot I have one?
Gentler. Like how you heard the female actress in that movie say to her lover. Yoongi had shied away from your advances because you came off too strong. Too eager. Having heard Seokjin’s advice, you had dialed it down by a ton. It wasn’t difficult, but you were more concerned of the time, ever glancing at the digital calendar at every 5 minute interval. Maybe you should forget about it all. Maybe accept your first defeat and run off. That doesn’t sound like you. Fret, you’re clawing at the impossible as of now because this desire of yours requires a third-party who had to be earned by emotions. It probably would have been easier if the target wasn’t Yoongi. But it is too late to change now. The cards are drawn and they spell his name.
What would you do if you truly love someone?
You make amends with your past. Yoongi blinks at the half-bitten biscuit in his hand. He is seated on the roadside, wiping his hand on the back of his black worn-out jeans. Dust flew as cars after cars passed by. His boots scratch the pebbles underneath being the only sound apart from the throttling bikes speeding by.
The tattoo parlor behind him had its shutter just opened. The owner, with his fiery neon green hair, rubbing his eyes as he prepares.
“The alarm died on me,” he greets Yoongi at the door. Yoongi cocks his eyebrow and walks in, unconvinced, “Sure it did.”
“Heard you were back at the pawnshop,” Hansung yawns. “Not to pawn, but to get something back,” Yoongi sat himself on the leather seat, peeling off his jacket and black turtleneck. Hansung prepares a bottle of cognac and two shot glasses. In a while, Hansung puts on his black gloves and Yoongi bares his neck. Unprompt, he applies tattoo care balm on his neck.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you want to cover up your skin,” Hansung mumbles to his chest, knees widespread to be in close proximity in order to do his job.
Yoongi didn’t respond. Hansung’s eyes glided to where Yoongi’s skin was still bare. The specks of scars, and healed wounds that his skin endured. Cuts and blades on the columns otherwise invisible to the naked eye. It was these scars that he wanted to hide. Ligature abrasions, permanent scarring, small pale circle scars littered his shoulders and neck, all but his face— his skins were witnesses and proof of a turbulent upbringing.
Yoongi closed his eyes and when he did, those words he grew up to ring in his ears like a broken record.
“How about I break your pretty little face, huh?”
”Get over here, I need to put out my cigars.”
His childhood was dreadful.
“Hyung is always so strange,” Hansung let out a short chuckle, probably feeling foolish for saying this out loud, “Most people do tatts for the art, and you told me to treat your skin like a canvas. What if one day you wake up and decide you hate what I drew on you?”
“I do it for the tingles. I don’t care what you draw on me,” he replied coolly.
Yoongi showed up with a turtleneck the next day at work. He smells like coconut and mango when he passes by. He senses several head perks up when he walks by. He brought the book he was trying to finish since last Christmas.
“Friedrich Nietzsche,” you typed into your phone once you walked back to your locker. That was very interesting. Especially ‘Beyond Good and Evil’. The idea was to remember what interests him; and that is through the books he reads. As Yoongi was minding his business, he felt a shadow looming over him like a statue.
“I know you’re there, I’m not going on a date with you,” he spat dryly. “I wasn’t gonna ask— “ you screwed your face in disgust.
“Then why are you here, standing there like a ghost? Hm?” Yoongi shrugs, careful not to turn his head to the side because his throat tattoo is healing. “The will to overcome an emotion, is ultimately the will of another, or of several other, emotions,” you quoted. Sitting across the table, just like you did in Burger King, coffee in hand.
“I would not have guessed you were a fan of Nietzsche,” you take a small sip of the coffee in a paper cup, “Bunch of bullshit he is. But then again, fitting.”
Yoongi let out a scoff the same time he shut his book and threw it a short distance on the table, “Who said I was?”
“You were reading him.” “To understand him. The man’s dead.” “Well, I have SEVERAL things I disagree with.” “And so you spoke through his grave?” “IF I must.”
Yoongi squints his eyes toward you, and you squint back.
“One quote of him that I hate to this day, he said and I quote; ‘He who seeks intelligence lacks intelligence,’” you stated. “Why, because it hits home?” Yoongi darts.
“Because it was inaccurate,” you swirled and blew the hot steams away from your coffee. “Really, how so?” he tips his chin and folded his arms, leaning towards the table at you. You were rendered silence.
Yoongi clears his throat and lowers his voice, “It’s not a criticism. He’s not saying the people who value knowledge lacks it or saying that they are stupid. He’s saying that the people who search for something, don’t have it. It is in a way, stating the obvious. He, who seeks intelligence,” Yoongi points his forefinger to your temple, “Lacks intelligence,” he taps the tip of your nose. He scrunches his nose, smirking.
“Get it now?” he returns to his laxed self. “I need a pen and paper,” you swallowed the whole paper cup of coffee. Yoongi handed one. Then he tore off a page from the Friedrich Nietzsche book. That sudden move thrilled you but you hoped it wouldn’t show on your face but Yoongi caught on.
“So you’re that type of reader,” you grinned, taking the piece of paper from him, “The read and butcher kind.” “ I can’t decide if that’s a slur or a compliment, I’m leaning to believe that it’s both?” He pursed his lips and tilted his head to one side.
The wall clock showed 8AM, you stood up folding the paper he gave you after writing something on it, then you pushed it towards him. His larger hand overlaps yours as he takes it. Your hand slips out easily. It was obvious that he fully intended to touch you. The calluses on his fingertips send electric tingles on your knuckles and you couldn’t even look back at him after you left the cafeteria. You could feel his eyes on you.
“Bookstore. Saturday. Lunch.” You wrote.
Meeting was grueling. With the CAPA incident involving Yoongi finally coming to a close, you are now helping Seokjin with his CAPA report while the meeting is in progress. All seven executives of the branches were huddled in the meeting room and while the presentation was happening, it was common to see secretaries and clerks handing over notes from the Machine Specialists to their Execs. This time, Jimin passes a note to you saying that it was from your MS.
Unfolding the note, you read a big three letters written with a marker pen, “ Y E S.” You smiled so big, Seokjin looked up from his laptop, his bangs poking his eyes. You gave him a nod and a smile and he too, grins. .
⤑ Summary | Being stuck in the kitchen of your aunt’s bakery late at night is the last thing you had in mind when it came to preparing for Valentine’s day. Although, being stuck with your archenemy, and the most overbearing person you have ever known, teaching you how to bake your aunt’s secret recipe is the exact opposite of what you’d ever have in mind. As the kitchen grows hot, however, you cannot tell whether it’s from the ovens or if it’s something else burning between the two of you. As the night progresses, you cannot help but wonder which one would melt first once you are done. The frostings? Or you?
⤑Genre | Enemies to Lovers!au, Baker!au, Baker!Yoongi, Baker!reader, Smut
⤑ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature
⤑ Warning | involving food play (with…a lot of licking), Yoongi’s tongue, minor dirty talk, sexual tension in the kitchen, soft dom!Yoongi, clothed foreplay, breast play (with some biting involved), oral sex (f receiving, biting involved; m receiving, deep throating and balls sucking involved), fingering, female masturbation, deep throating, cum eating, penetrative sex without protection, semi-public sex.
⤑ Word count | 14,3k words
⤑ Song Companion |Rendezvous At Two - Play With Me
❥ Author’s Note | Written as a part of Bon Appetit collaboration with @jamaisjoons,@yeoldontknow, and @chillingkoo | Many thanks for my hype team @randombtsprincessaand@softyoongiionly, some of these scenes would never make sense if it weren’t for you. And for my second set of eyes @theodea, thank you for helping me even while you’re busy cat-sitting ;) | For my readers, I really hope you guys would enjoy this one. Have a beautiful Valentine!
Luck had not been on your side.
And honestly, no matter how much you hate to admit it, there is no denying that luck has not been on your side for a long time. If it were, you probably would not be here, stranded in the back kitchen of your aunt’s bakery shop, surrounded by the massive ovens that are still warm after the whole day of baking. Though there is no doubt that the temperature will only continue rising as the night is growing late.
Out of the tons of scenarios that you had pictured back when you had agreed to work alongside your aunt in her bakery shop, this is definitely not what you have had in mind. Not that you mind being here in the kitchen, doing what you love to do most. The only problem you have right now has something more to do with the situation you are currently being stuck in.
summary: head boy Min Yoongi is a lot of things: patient, perfect, popular, andunwavering; structured so that nothing can threaten that mindset. nothing, except for you.
pairing: yoongi x fem!reader
genre: hogwarts au, head boy!yoongi, enemies to lovers au | fluff
warnings: yoongi has a stick up his ass, many mentions of detentions various depictions of it that may or may not be accurate to actual Hogwarts detentions but alas i cannot say for certain
word count: 10k
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When Min Yoongi is seventeen, he receives the school authority to go around acting as if there were a giant stick up his ass. In other words, he gets selected to be a Head Boy.
Unfortunately, the role is entirely too fitting for a boy who appears to have spent the first half of his childhood reading the handbook of rules for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry line by line and the second half of his childhood reciting those rules to anyone just barely beginning to step out of bounds. You would be very familiar with the lectures he gives, given how often you’ve had to listen through on several of his different accusations regarding your rule breaking and lack of discipline.
You couldn’t believe it. He stood you up again. Your boyfriend, Yoongi, as much as you loved him, he was one of the most inconsistent people you’ve ever met. It was the third time that week he promised he’d meet up with you. You didn’t want to sound like a pretentious , but truth was you had had a feeling in your gut that told you that date was going to be a failure, just like the others were before he even texted you:
Heyy… y/n, look, I know you’re going to get mad at me, but you know I’ve been so busy lately with my mixtape release and I really need to stay up late tonight to finish some work.. I am so sorry, I promise PROMISE I will make up somehow.. please don’t be mad at me. It’s just the way it is, I love you so much! please understand
Of course you knew what you were getting yourself into the day you and him became a couple. He was still hesitant when it came to showing up in public with you. You knew he only wanted to protect your image, he didn’t want you to be the object of the insults some fans so carelessly threw your way. They didn’t even know you, all they thought they knew was that you took Suga away from them.. “Suga”.
Well, truth was that Yoongi was the one baing taken away from you. Not like anyone could own such a wild character, you knew he always did what he wanted, regardless of what the people around him asked. And what he wanted to do at the time was to make his fans happy and then you had to be satisfied with being a second priority. But you weren’t satisfied at all. Of course, who could blame him? If you ever dared to complain to anyone a storm would imediately be thrown your way. After all, how many thousands of girls would give anything to be in your place?..
Many. You assumed.
“You should be grateful for what you have.” but it simply felt like it wasn’t enough. Your fingers played around with the phone case for a few minutes as tears started rolling down your cheeks, making their way onto your chin before falling in big, hot drops on your lap.
Sure baby, you know I understand. You do your thing and when you have time,
“No…” you said to yourself as you deleted the message, rewriting:
It’s the third time Yoongi.. I don’t know how you expect us to work things out if you kee-
“..” there was no use for doing that. You were second and you had to deal with that. “Tragic. I am pathetic.”
Deleting the message once again. No problem, I think I’ll go hang out a bit tonight then :) love you too
Alright. Good. Let him know you were not a whiny little brat. You were perfectly capable of having fun with other people. Nobody could tie you up to anyone or put you in a cage. Those were the lies you so desperately wanted to believe were true about yourself. Truth was you missed him, you missed his voice saying “I can’t believe you forgot to buy bread again” and his long, slim fingers playing with your hair in the morning. You missed his complaining about the brown roots that were growing under his blonde hair every two weeks and his annoying snort that made you kick his back in the middle of the night until he stopped.
He had always been busy, but in that moment it didn’t feel like he was busy anymore, it felt like he was absent. You wiped your tears just as a new message from him arrived
I’m glad! Have fun and call me when you get home so I know you’re safe!
Even if you were mad, a tiny smily lightened up your face as you read that. You knew he cared about you, he was a nice guy. That was tragic because you felt the relationship falling apart day by day and a bitter ending was in sight. But that night, you weren’t kidding. You wanted to go have some fun, hang out with someone, anyone. Put those worries to rest for a bit, until morning comes again and you have to dig them up.
You looked at your phone and in your contact book. Scrolling contact after contact, everyone seemed so.. unavailable and you didn’t even text anyone yet. That was when a red low battery sign in the right corner of the screen dragged your attention.
“Ah, damn it.. where did I put my charger?” Looking everywhere, it was nowhere to be found. Then it hit you. You forgot it in the dance practice hall earlier that day when Yoongi asked you to go and pick up some things for him there. Great job.
Looking at the clock, it was only 8:07 pm, so you figured you could jump in the car real quick and go get it. Taking a quick look in the mirror, it was a good thing you decided not to wear make up that day, because after crying it would’ve smudged all over your face. Only wearing a pair of washed out jeans and a large shirt that you sometimes slept in.. it was ok, you weren’t trying to impress anyways. If anyone with a camera approached you and the following day you’re horrible looking self was the highlight of all gossip sites, at least Yoongi would have an excuse to leave your sorry , you thought. Hair wrapped in a bun, kays dangling in your hand. Lego.
It was unusually quiet at the dance studio, not too many people around. You saw Bangtan’s choreographer walking around, but he didn’t pay you any attention, not even a glance. The janitor was mopping the floor, you asked him if he could let you go and fetch your charger real quick. Usually he wasn’t allowed to let people in without permission. Especially young girls, for obvious reasons, but he knew who you were and that you were Yoongi’s girlfriend.
“The door is not locked, go and take what you need, but in 30 minutes we’re closing, so keep in mind.” 30 minutes was more than you needed. You slowly walked towards the big hall, full of mirrors, where Bangtan practiced their dancing every day. There was no music, but you could hear the rhythmic steps of someone inside. That made the situation a bit awkward for you. “Ah, damn it.”
So you decided to knock instead of just opening the door. The sound of footsteps ceased and a deep voice called out, a bit surprised.
“Yeah?” You slowly opened the door and peaked inside only to find Jungkook staring at you from the other side of the hall. The sweat on his face was noticeable even from where you were standing and his wet hair was sticking on his neck and forehead as he took a deep, loud breath. You could tell he had been there, practicing for awhile now.
You knew Jungkook fairly well, he wasn’t exactly your best friend, not even the member you got along best with in Bangtan, but you were friends. He was always a bit distant with you, or at least that’s what you felt he came across to be. A bit shy. Even if with other people he seemed to be more like the out going type. Smiling at him, he seemed to surprised to see you there and almost ashamed, judging by his sloppy gestures as he approached you.
“I think I forgot my charger here when I picked up Yoongi’s shoes earlier today..” To be honest, a part of you regretted showing up looking like that. You really did look like you just woke up with a hangover, but at least, after training, he wasn’t far away from looking like that either. You tried to avoid looking at the sweaty shirt on his body, but somehow, it acted like a magnet to your eyes. You wondered if it was obvious.
“Ahh.. yeah, yes. I knoew what you’re saying. I found a charger here, I figured someone forgot it, I thought it was Jin Hyung’s so I put it in my locker and I wanted to give it to him. Lucky you came haha.” A short, awkward moment of silence passed before you finally asked what was, you assumed, the obvious.
“No problem haha can you give it to me now?” You both started awkwardly laughing like two stupid kindergartners. Jungkook turned around and started walking towards his locker, even his back was sweating. You followed him, beginning to feel a bit uneasy. Like someone was pressing a weight on your stomach and you became very aware of the heart beat that was echoing in your ears. You really didn’t like the silence and it didin’t seem like Jungkook had any plans to start convesation at that point.
“I see you’ve been practicing a lot lately.” He nodded in approval. “Yeah, I have. It’s really hard when everyone expects from me to be perfect and never make any mistakes. I know Yoongi has been working hard on his release too, but I think you know that already.” That statement felt like salt being poured over an open wound. You couldn’t help your sad voice.
“Yeah.. I know, It’s the third time this week he stood me up.” It already felt like you were over sharing, but it was so hard to keep in it. You regretted saying that as soon as those words came out of your mouth so you bit your tongue. Complaining wasn’t something you should do at that point, but Jungkook gave you the most surprised look.
“Really?! He stood you up? I hope he knows what he’s doing.. If I wa-” cutting his statement there, he almost seemed offended by what you said and you thought that was a bit funny. Jungkook was so sweet at times.
“Why don’t you come over? Me and Taehyung and Jin are cooking something and then maybe we can all watch a movie or something, bring some drinks, how does that sound?” You really didn’t expect him to make you such an offer, but you accepted without thinking twice. It was perfect, you didn’t have to worry about finding someone to hang out with for the night anymore. “Wait until I change my shirt and we’ll go together.” You looked at him in disapproval.
“Jungkook.. look at me; I have to go change too. I look like I live under a bridge.” You giggled. Jungkook scanned you from head to toe. “What are you saying? You look great. Come on, it’s only going to be you, me, Tae and Jin. I promise the Queen of England isn’t going to make an appearance tonight.”
Your heart fluttered a bit, he reminded you of Yoongi, the way he spoke, that playful sarcasm. How little Yoongi cared about what you wore or if you had make up on or if your hair was done or not as long as he was with you. A sad smile appeared on your face. Truth was you didn’t want to waste any time on getting ready and you didn’t feel like going back home either. “It’s ok. I have my own car, I’ll just follow yours.”
Summary:Life sometimes sucks. You’ve been stuck in that strange world that is adulting, questioning everything about life as you’ve gradually grown harder and harder to everything until one bland date brings you to a small record store and you meet him. Min Yoongi. In his very words, ‘not a good guy’ but he’s just too tempting to ignore. And safe, careful, planner you finds yourself wrapped up in the storm that is Yoongi.
Pairing:Min Yoongi X Reader
Genre:Smut, possibly the longest sex scene I have ever written, with bits of introspective romance?? I guess?
Word Count: 15.2K
Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (F giving and receiving), spanking, a hell of a lot of dirty talk, and as always from me, plenty of swearing.
A/N: This isn’t complete. You’ve been warned. It doesn’t leave off on like…a cliffhanger or anything, but I’ve had this bad boy sitting around for ages and I’m just too busy to finish any of my projects at the moment but a lovely friend of mine reminded me about this particular bad boy Yoongi fic and I felt that I owed all of y’all who’s stuck around my very long bouts of radio silence a holiday present. Merry Christmas, you filthy animals.
You can still clearly remember the first time you fell in love. It wasn’t anything amazing or special, it wasn’t some wonderful whirlwind romance always portrayed in stories and movies. But you can remember the butterflies, the way your skin warmed uncomfortably any time you held hands, the way your breathing grew uneven just from the smallest of hugs or stolen glances. Soft kisses when others weren’t looking would send your head into the clouds. You can also remember the heartache, the way it felt as though everything had come crashing down when he moved on and you were stuck trying to pick up the pieces of your life. But you would eventually, and if there’s anything that you’ve learned as you’ve gotten older it’s that love changes entirely. Not just with each partner but also with wisdom. Where you once could talk about the innocence of love now it was sex, marriage, children, careers, half-assed dates, trying to decide if you could see yourself living with that person or if the relationship wasn’t going anywhere after just a few months.
Love used to just be. It just came one day, crept into your heart like a thief in the night but instead of taking anything it just took up space. Ahhh, what a way to live. Youth holds far more innocence than people realize. Growing up is a pain, the world becomes crueler and you start analyzing everything instead of just living. When did that happen? When did love become a strategic game rather than just an effervescent thing swirling around in the depths of your soul? When did you start worrying so much about keeping up with others around you?
You weren’t always all this doom and gloom. In fact, most people will say that on the outside you seem to be a very positive, kind person. A bit of a pushover. Always there to help. Some might say otherwise, that sure you’re nice enough but you seem to have a wall up. Is that such a bad thing? Is it bad to want to protect yourself from the inevitable pain of having to move on? If you were to answer honestly, wholeheartedly, you probably started feeling this way a few years ago. After you watched your best friend walk down the aisle. So beautiful. So happy. And you were so fucking alone. Miserably alone. And you felt like a complete bitch for watching such a beautiful moment happen all while thinking selfishly about none other than yourself. And then everyone else moved on. They got married or moved in with their partners. They had children. Your siblings all got married. And then there’s you. The forever bachelorette. The workaholic.
If we remain on the topic of honesty, you aren’t even sure you know what love is anymore. You can vaguely recall the innocence of days past. The earnestness of loving simply because you couldn’t control it. But you can’t describe it. How does one describe love? If you had asked the you of yester-year…fine, yester-decade…you would have said, “It just is. It’s there one day and it strings you along for a wild ride and you just try your best as the shotgun driver to help steer this whole thing along.” But the older, hopefully, wiser you? Well, now you see love as something more akin to a good game of chess. It’s a strategy. A battlefield, a place where good plans should hopefully get you across the way but where other plans can foil you. Fucking Pat Benatar had it right, who would’ve guessed?
You glance back up at your date, drawn out of your internal ramblings as the waiter passes by. This guy isn’t the worst. He certainly isn’t the best. On paper he’s got everything going for a good future. He’s a doctor, he seems nice enough, he has his own home. For fuck’s sake, he even works at a free clinic one weekend a month just to help people. And he’s obnoxiously handsome. It’s your third date with him. But why is it that you just don’t feel a spark with him? Maybe you should sleep with him, see how that pans out. That’s one thought. On the other hand whenever a waiter passes by you desperately want to grab the check and run back to your sanctum away from this boring hell.
"(Y/N?)“ You blink back up at Shownu, giving a small awkward smile.
"Sorry, I guess I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I’m a little tired.”
He nods kindly, grabbing a passing waiter and paying the check before he resumes speaking with you. “It’s okay, you just looked a little bored. I’m sorry I’m sure that cardiovascular disease is probably a boring topic to most.”
"Oh no, it’s fascinating.“ Lies. It felt like he was trying to read to you from a textbook. "I’m just a bit out of it. I have a new client who’s been more than a bit difficult and I’ve had to work almost around the clock to try to figure out what’ll make them happy.”
"What do you do again?“ Looks like you aren’t the only one snoozing off when the other person’s speaking. That’s not a good sign.
"I’m a graphic designer. This client, in particular, is a local coffee shop, they’re rebranding themselves but apparently, the two owners are having a hard time agreeing with what direction they want to go in. I’ll get a green light from one and a red light from the other and it’s been almost a week of this now.” You ruffle your hair aggravatedly before stopping. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk so much about work, I’m sure it’s boring.”
"A bit.“ My god dick, take a hint. You were trying to be polite earlier and here he is just openly calling your work boring. "But that’s okay. You’ve got a lot on your plate. You drove here right?”
"Yup, I guess I’ll talk to you later.“ Another lie. You have no intention of contacting him again. Even if he is hot and a doctor. Your friends would call you crazy to not be interested in him. But is it so wild to want to enjoy your time with the other partner? When did the world become about saving face and looking good? Was it always this way and you were just ignorant? No. Naive would be a better word for you. You needed to grow thicker skin.
Shownu doesn’t even walk you to your car, not that you’re bothered by it. You wanted to escape just as much as he did. Looks like you’ll have to keep looking. Or maybe you should give up. Be a spinster. Widdle your days away in your work and be the fun aunt who comes around to steal stop signs and do dumb shit with your nieces and nephews. Yeah, that sounds a lot more like you than some boring marriage. Maybe. Or maybe you’re just giving up. You can’t tell. Maybe it’s just the last glass of wine you had talking.
You look around before getting in your car, your eyes spotting a small record store across the street. You’ve lived in the city for ten years, yet you’ve never seen this tiny little gem before. It’s tucked away, a small poorly lit sign simply saying ‘records.’ It looks so unusual here, in the posher side of town. But ten years ago this place hadn’t been gentrified. It’s like this one little building is holding out, refusing to conform. Unwilling to yield with the times, refusing to be aesthetically pleasing for some woman who owns a teacup poodle and drinks overpriced syrupy coffee who needs perfectly paved roads and has to speak to the manager. And before you can understand what you’re doing you’re jaywalking your ass right over to it.
It’s cramped, wall to wall, row after row it’s filled with vinyls of all colors. There’s a few teenagers looking around, clearly affluent based off of their clothing but rebelling. At least that’s what you’re assuming based off of the designer clothing mixed with cheap hair dye and piercings. Ah, you remember those days. Except your clothes were hand-me-downs and goodwill finds. Maybe vinyls are cool again. You can remember thinking you were hot shit to finally get a walkman at a garage sale. CD’s were already mainstream then but they weren’t cheap. The kids at school didn’t have pity on you for that. Not that it mattered to you, it felt like you finally had the whole world of music available to you whenever you wanted.
It feels nostalgic to go through the records. You can remember the way your oldest brother would begrudgingly take you with while he flirted with girls in a different record store. It was the spot, where only the raddest kids hung out. And now here you are almost three decades later in another record store late at night with just a bored employee and two rich kids who think they’re hot shit for being in on something that others aren’t. Ah, youth.
One record, in particular, pulls at you. You stop for a moment, thumbing it before gently picking it up. Christ, does wine give you all the yearning for nostalgia or are you just getting old? You’ll go with the wine, it’s a much more comforting thought than confronting your age right now. You want to hang this up. Remind yourself of who you were. Who you are. You’ve been losing sight. Maybe. It’s hard to tell, life moves too fast the older you get. Or maybe it’s that pesky malbec. The fact that you only had two glasses isn’t important. You need a scapegoat for tonight. A way to ease this growing uncomfortable feeling in your chest. Like the world is falling apart and moving on and you’re stuck somewhere. You aren’t sure where. But you do know that you need this. So you march up to the register, the two brats in the shop trailing behind shortly after.
The boy, no that’s definitely a fully grown man, lazily gazes up at you before taking the record and scanning it. You’d call him cute, but his eyes look a bit too hardened for that word. He looks like he’s seen some shit and doesn’t hide it from the world. Like he’s ready for a fight at all times and probably sleeps with one eye open just in case. He’d be the type to survive a zombie apocalypse. "I didn’t realize we even had any Atmosphere records. Wow, that takes me back.”
"Ant really was ahead of his time. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Slug is a great rapper, but the real key to their music was how Ant produced everything. Their new records are great too, but this one? This one’s just a real gem.“
"Hmmm, look at you, corporate hotshot getting her panties in a twist over some nineties backpack rappers.” His words drawl lazily, a sardonic smile curling up and showing the gums of his teeth as he places the record in a bag. “The world is full of surprises.” You aren’t even sure what to say as he hands the bag over to you, standing there with your mouth agape before he nods his head. “You gonna move lady? I’ve got other people waiting.” The teens behind you snicker, and you harden your eyes for just a moment before grabbing the bag and marching out. What a dick. A total dick. Tonight’s not your night. Christ, what were you even doing there? You don’t even have a record player.
You don’t realize it until you get home twenty minutes later, still fuming as you pull the record out, that he’s left behind his phone number on the receipt. “Call me when you’re bored, Ms. Corporate.” When did the fucker even get the time to do this? The little shit’s fast. He didn’t even give you his name. Why does that bother you so much? He was a dick. You shouldn’t want to know his name. You go to rip up the receipt but for some reason you find yourself tacking it up on the fridge. Maybe you’ll save it for a lonely, no scratch that, angry night. Reem his ass out for fun and then you’ll tear it up. Yeah sure, that’s why you’re keeping it.
———————————
A week’s gone by and you still haven’t taken down that stupid receipt from your fridge. You haven’t gone back to the shop either. You’ve been too busy, surviving off of ramen and egg sandwiches while working painfully long hours until you want to tear your hair out. You finally reach some semblance of agreement between the two owners, and you’ve finally finished working on their project. You got it done faster than anticipated, you just wanted them out of your life. But now you have only small projects in the meanwhile. And that’s dangerous. Because free time keeps allowing your brain to wander back to him. If you’re Ms. Corporate then he’s Mr. Dick. You kind of wonder what his dick looks like, if it’s big enough to back up his ego or not. You’d rather die than admit that. Shit, what are you thinking? If you’ve got time to fuck around then you’ve got time to pick up some more clients.
———————
You aren’t sure how you wound back up here, but suddenly you’re back in the same vinyl shop with Mr. Dick behind the counter again. You refuse to acknowledge the inner glee at seeing his face again. You barely even look in his direction, instead, you start rifling through the records before picking out a few more. Once you start digging through you find your brain focusing more on the artwork, on the way how everything comes together, nostalgia blossoming as you thumb through familiar covers. Radiohead, The Roots, Sade, Maxwell. Lord, you can remember your first boyfriend putting Maxwell on while making out with you in the car. You called him an old man, said it was probably what your parents put on to have sex. He was dejected, you thought it was funny but sweet. He didn’t see it that way. So it goes.
You quietly walk up to the counter, a soft smile playing on your face as you carefully place everything before the look on your face is wiped back to a careful blank slate when you see Mr. Dick cocking a half-grin at you. He looks like the type of guy that high school girls used to cream themselves over, they probably still do. The kind that always has a cigarette in hand, definitely used to be a skater, probably has a secret love child on the other side of the country, maybe did some minor time for a couple of DUIs. You almost want to laugh at the way you’re trying so hard to picture his life. The poor dude’s probably just totally normal, or maybe you hit the nail on the head. What does it matter, he’s just some random dick.
"Ms. Corporate, you’re back I see.“
"I am.”
"Always a pleasure to see a pretty gal in here, but especially when it’s you.“ You roll your eyes and he grins at this, you hate the way how your defenses almost momentarily break at just how cute he is when he smiles, really smiles. Here you were trying to figure out if he’s done time or not and suddenly you’re wanting to pinch his cheek. Christ, you need to get out more. And you don’t mean back here either. "I’m a little sad though, you never did give me a call.”
"I never got bored. Besides, what was I even supposed to do? Call you up and go, hey the dick behind the counter at the record store, I’m bored?“ He laughs at this, a full belly laugh before he cocks his head to the side.
"You’re an interesting one Ms. Corporate. Here I was trying to figure you out, and you’ve thrown me for another loop. I wasn’t lying though, I was disappointed that I didn’t hear from you.”
Your eyes narrow for a moment, trying hard to fight the heat that so desperately wants to rise to your cheeks. “Like I said, I wasn’t bored. And I’m not interested in speaking to random nameless douchebags.”
He nods his head, sliding your credit card and humming for a moment before the machine chirps and he hands over your bag and receipt. Before you can turn around he’s speaking again, “Yoongi. Min Yoongi.” You stare at him for a moment before he continues, “Now I’m not a nameless douche.”
"A named douche doesn’t fair any better in my books. I suppose I should’ve said that first.“
"Fair enough, but at least I don’t buy old man sex music in the middle of the night.” You can’t help but laugh at that, Maxwell really is old man sex music so you can’t blame him. In fact, some twisted part of you is elated that he thinks so too. Not that you’d admit that to even yourself.
"Have a good night, Min Yoongi.“ He looks startled for a second, he’s almost transfixed on the way you laugh. You can’t feel his eyes trailing you as you walk out the door, you’re far too focused on trying to calm the strangely warm fuzzy feeling trying to take over you to notice.
————————-
Life is strange, no matter what age you are things will pop up that you can’t explain how exactly it’s happened, or why it’s happened. The trick to being an adult is looking like you know what the fuck is going on, but the honest truth is no one does. Maybe they think they do, maybe they really do more often than not, but no one does one hundred percent of the time. That’s the honest truth. The entirety of humanity is a mass of dumbasses pretending to look like they know what’s going on. You are indeed one of those dumbasses, another fish in a large school trying not to be eaten but having no clue what lays beyond the school of fish ninety percent of the time. Your predator goes by the name of Min Yoongi. Perhaps he doesn’t even see himself as a predator nor you as prey, but that’s exactly how you see it. It’s been over a month since you last stepped foot in his workplace. There should be no need to go. You now have five vinyls and still no record player. Most would call them poor financial choices and an odd way to splurge. You’ve thought about it more than you can count though, going back to see him that is. That stupid fucking receipt is still hanging up on your fridge, and it’s taken everything in your willpower to not call him randomly.
Min Yoongi. You wonder, far too often for your own good, who he is. What he likes, dislikes. What makes him tick. What gets him off. You blame him. It’s the way he looks at you. Cold eyes, analyzing you to your very soul. Sneering at you one second, taunting you smugly, before switching to the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. You’ve only seen him twice, no longer than a few minutes at a time. You don’t know if you can even say that you’ve ever had a real conversation with him. He doesn’t even know your name. And yet he runs through your thoughts on repeat. You would love to be able to settle on a normal human. A good guy, someone like Shownu. Safe, stable, traditionally handsome, a great career. But your stupid fucking brain feels nothing around a guy like him and then suddenly it sparks and rewires itself around a douche named Min Yoongi who you actually wondered if he did time or not. Life is strange. So it goes.
It’s thoughts like these that are your downfall. Late at night, all alone in bed. Pondering what he’s doing, who he’s doing. You’re sure a deadbeat like him has a slew of girls at his beck and call. He certainly acts like it. But that shouldn’t matter to you. After a month of wondering, going back and forth, staring longingly at the fridge, you’re picking up your phone and slowly entering in the numbers. One digit takes you nearly thirty seconds, the last time it took you this long to call someone was when you were staying at your grandmother’s house using her outdated rotary phone as a child. And here you are, a grown woman, terrified over some dick who works at a record store. Life is strange, you can’t help but think as you delete the numbers and enter them back in. Should you, shouldn’t you? What’s to gain? What’s to lose? Life is about strategy, isn’t it? Does he offer you anything? Perhaps temporary release is all you need. But can he actually offer that? Maybe. Hopefully. Maybe not. Who knows. It’s a risk. Not a calculated one either. In fact, odds are heavily stacked against him. And the adult in you says to not bother. That’s what vibrators are for, if all you’re looking for is a release. But there’s another voice, something longing for this. There’s something about him that plays on repeat in your head. Something that stirs up oddly sentimental feelings in you when you think of him. Which is strange, you don’t know him. So how can sentimentality be tied to someone you just met? Maybe it’s just part of his trade for soon to be old spinsters like you, you guess.
You take another deep breath, staring at the screen as you sink down to the floor of the kitchen and finally hit the dial button. Shit. Fuck. What are you doing? This isn’t like you. You haven’t thought out every exit strategy yet. Christ. Oh god. "Hello?” His voice is deeper over the phone. You won’t explain how that makes you feel, it’s a bit embarrassing honestly.
"Yoongi?“
"Ms. Corporate?”
“…Yes…” That’s right, you never told him his name. There’s garbled background noise for a minute, you hear him telling someone to shut the fuck up before it’s eerily silent for a moment and then you hear a breathy chuckle. And oh god, you are so so so fucking screwed.
"Holy shit. I didn’t think you’d actually call. Just when I thought you forgot all about me you actually call.“
"I was bored.” You bite back a smile, head resting on your fridge as you stare up at the ceiling. Jesus, you should dust more often, is that a spiderweb?
He gives a sing-song laugh, and that strange tipsy feeling in your gut bubbles back up again. You feel oddly nervous, kind of giddy. When’s the last time you felt this way? You don’t know if you ever did. “Holy Christ. I’m sorry, give me a moment, this just…makes me weirdly happy. Fuck. Shit. -I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO HOME. Sorry, not you Ms. Corporate. Just uh, a friend. He’s a dipshit. A bit drunk. Having girlfriend troubles I guess. Dunno why he came to me. I uh…I dunno why I’m telling you this either. Christ. Are you still there?”
"I’m here.“ You don’t know what to say. Fuck. Why did you call?? It’s been nearly thirty seconds and you’ve already lost all confidence in saying anything. This is why you need a plan, a strategy. When you don’t know how to proceed the only option is to deflect. So deflect you shall. "How did you know it was me?”
"I’ve answered nearly every unknown number asking if it was you for about six weeks now if I was very honest. Not that you needed to know that.“ You swear you can hear him give an awkward chuckle. How unexpected. Perhaps staying behind the counter gives him an odd confidence boost. Or maybe he’s been drinking just like his friend and is being a bit too honest. You’re not sure why, but that doesn’t feel like such a bad thing to you. The lack of snark is as startling as it is endearing.
"Well, I’ve kept your stupid receipt pinned to my fridge for the last six weeks. Not that you need to know that.” You smile at the way he laughs this time, mentally visualizing his gummy smile. Maybe you should have face timed him. But then he’d see you looking like a full damn mess in the middle of the night. You’ll just have to imagine what he looks like.
"You’re really cute Ms. Corporate. Really obnoxiously cute for someone who has the strangest taste in music. I mean you went from Atmosphere to Radiohead to Maxwell. I’m sure it branches out even further than that and hopefully to a few other decades. I’m curious.“
"About what? My music tastes?”
"Well yeah. And a lot of other things about you. Like I said, I’ve been trying to figure you out. You run around in my thoughts all day lately. That’s not fair Ms. Corporate. Not fair at all. At least you can think of me as the douche with the name. But all I’ve got is Ms. Corporate with weird music tastes.“
"Hmm….”
"What do you mean hmmm? Isn’t this your cue to, oh I don’t know, tell me your name?“
"It’s fun this way. Safe. Now I don’t have to worry about you looking me up and finding my place and chopping me up into pieces.”
"Pretty sure I would’ve done that beforehand if that were the case, you know, cover my tracks and not leave my number behind or anything. Come on Ms. Corporate, you’re killing me. I want to know if your name is as pretty as your face.“
You give it a moment, relishing silently in the exasperated sighs you hear over the phone, his feet shuffling loudly against pavement before finally, you speak up. ”(Y/N). My name’s (y/n).“
”(Y/N).“ The way he says your name slowly has tingles running up your spine, your cheeks heating up at the way it almost feels like he’s savoring your name. Christ, what is it about this cheeky devil? One second he’s captain douche and the next second he’s adorable and then suddenly he has your toes curling just from the way he says your name. He has 'bad idea’ written all over him in big bold letters and yet here you are, sitting on your kitchen floor grinning like a fool. When’s the last time you smiled this much? Shit, that’s a depressing thought, let’s not think about that. "That’s a pretty name. It fits you.”
"You sure do seem to be all compliments tonight. I’m wondering when sir asswipe will come out.“
"I save him for the store. Customer service will do that to you.” That’s…fair enough. But still. And why does that make you laugh? Why is it that everything just seems so easy with him? “(Y/N).” He pauses for a moment, you hear a lighter clicking in the background before he takes a drag. Well, it looks like you got one thing right, he’s a smoker. Ashtray tongue, not that great. You bet he makes it look hot though. “I wanna see you.”
You don’t respond, breathing halting for a moment before you hum. You want to see him too, that’s the honest truth. You want to get to know him, explore him. Open him up and examine his thoughts, lay in bed and talk for hours, maybe throw on that Maxwell record and see what happens. Wait…what the fuck are you thinking? You can’t help but burst out laughing, stopping when you realized that you probably sound absolutely insane and rude. Insanely rude. “Wait, no I wasn’t laughing that you want to see me, it’s just…I don’t know why but that stupid Maxwell album popped into my head.” You pause, terrified that he’ll be angry or upset or realize that you’re a bumbling idiot but instead, he gives a sing-song laugh. God, you want to see his face too.
"Okay, real talk though, why did you buy old man porn music?“
"I felt like I had to, I don’t know, buy it to repent for my sins?” He’s wheezing now, his laughter becoming infectious until you find yourself cracking up with him. Why is it so easy to talk to him?
"What in the fuck does that even mean?“
"I feel like at this point, it’s better without explaining. But I will anyway. When I was in high school I was dating this dude who broke up with me because I made fun of him for putting on a Maxwell tape when we made out in his car. I told him it was old man sex music, and when you said it when I was checking out it confirmed that while I was right, I owed poor Maxwell my money I guess. I don’t know. I’m not making any sense am I?”
"Kind of? Not really? I get the feeling that I’ll always still be wondering a bit with you though. Not that that’s a bad thing. You’re weird (Y/N), but good weird. I certainly didn’t expect this from a corporate hotshot.“
"Why do you keep calling me that?”
"Well, you look like you work in an office. You don’t?“
"Nope. I own my own business, I’m a graphic designer. But I was on a date the first time I popped in, oh and the second time I popped in I had just finalized some things with a client in person.”
"You…you wore a business suit on a…date? I don’t mean to be rude but um…how old exactly are you (Y/N)? Like what era did you come from?“
"Ah, Monsuire Jerkwad appears again. I’m 30 for your information. Which is an old biddy in my mother’s eyes.”
"Whaaaat? I mean I figured from your music choices you were about my age, but wow. Look at that, I’m just one year older than you. I guess that makes me whatever the fuck the male version of an old biddy is. Say though, (Y/N), why for fuck’s sake would you wear a business suit on a date? You didn’t answer that earlier.“ Huh. So he’s just a year older than you. You thought that he was younger actually. Man, asian really don’t raisin. You briefly wonder what his skincare routine is. Or maybe he’s one of those bastards that just uses Irish spring soap for everything and still magically looks great with no idea that there’s a difference between moisturizer and lotion.
"Ah…well, I went on the date after meeting with a client. But I mean, it was like a hot librarian suit right?” You can tell by the laughter that you were way off the mark. “Yeah…okay so it was just a normal suit. But whatever, I didn’t feel a need to get dressed up for him.”
"What, is the guy a slob or something?“
"Nah, in fact, it couldn’t be further from that. But I dunno I just didn’t really jive with him.”
"But you went on a date with him anyway?“
"I told you Yoongi, I’m an old biddy. I’m drying up over here. Eggs ticking or whatever. At least according to every single family member, even the extended ones I rarely talk to.”
"Being a chick must be rough, I feel like they nag you guys extra hard. But I get it, my folks are always pestering me to get married. Settle down, find a career, have kids. Shit, at this point they don’t even care what order it happens. If I came home with some random baby I think they wouldn’t even be angry they’d just be like 'finally, little Mins.’ It doesn’t help that my brother and his wife don’t want to try for kids for another couple of years so suddenly all the pressure’s on me.“
"God, I felt that in my soul. Why can’t they just let us breathe? It’s like my life revolves around finding someone to make my parents happy all of a sudden. I don’t even know when that happened. Or how, or why. But it’s like, I’ve gotta keep up with everyone else you know? I feel like somewhere along the line I got left behind.”
"Did you though?“ He takes a long drag, and you swear you can practically smell the cigarette through the phone. You bet he’s a clove kind of guy, he’s too weird to go for menthols. "I mean, did you really get left behind? Life happens for everyone at different times. What’s so wrong about that? Trust me, I get the pressure and the nagging and the bullshit. But at the end of the day, this is your life. Live it without regrets. Why settle just because other people tell you that you should? That seems boring as fucking hell.”
Life really is strange. Who would have guessed that some random dick in a random record store you’d never been to before a shitty date would suddenly be the one lifting the burden off your shoulder as if it had never been there? Everyone else was always telling you that it would happen, that the right guy would come along and soon enough you’d be married and having kids and all would be grand. But the honest truth is…that’s not what you want. You don’t even know if you want kids. And marriage? Man, that just seems like something you don’t need in your life right now. When did you get so wrapped up in feeling like you’d been left in the dust that you felt you had to do the exact same things to keep up?
Somewhere, in the core of your very being, you probably knew right then and there that you were getting into way too deep of territory for someone you had just met. But you had dropped your guard, refused to acknowledge any warning signs. How could you when someone finally was telling you that it was okay to just live? He told you the words that you needed the most without even knowing it. You can feel tears threating to rise but you gulp everything down and instead just give a quiet thanks. You just hear the drag of his cigarette again before he responds with an equally quiet no problem. It feels like the world could stop, right there and then. As if it was just the two of you, frozen in your own separate corners of earth while quietly listening to the static from the phone and all would be well. It felt safe. Dangerously safe.
"Fuck, I need to charge my phone it’s about to-“ With that, the call drops and you stare at your phone for a moment. Maybe it was for the best that his phone died, who knows what you would have said to him if you stayed on the phone any longer. You just practically spilled your guts to a virtual stranger from your kitchen floor at one in the morning. And yet, for the first time in a long time, all you can do is stare happily at your phone before finally forcing yourself into bed.
The next morning you may or may not have squealed like a complete buffoon upon reading the text you missed from him after falling asleep. "Sorry bout that. Next time tho, I wanna see you in person. That way there’s no worries about my phone dying.” Shit. It’s too early for this kind of attack. You’ll blame being half-awake for why you responded with just a simple “K.” You only have your own neuroticism to blame for your internal freakouts that constantly reoccur over the next few days when you don’t hear anything back. Maybe you were a bit too dry. Okay…you most certainly were too dry. Christ, if there’s ever been a dead fish version of a text, that would be it. Maybe you should have expected to fumble this badly. Maybe it’s a good thing. He didn’t seem like the type to really be interested in anything other than playing around. Not that you were expecting anything. Right? Okay…well maybe you did kind of really want to make out with him. Which is strange, because honestly, you can’t remember the last time you even thought of wanting to make out with someone. University years maybe? But now’s not the time to be thinking about that! Nows the perfect time to throw yourself into work, it’s the best scapegoat for avoiding emotions you’d rather not explore.
—————-
"Wow, your boredom intervals are quickly decreasing. Do you not have a lot of work right now or?“ Jesus what in the fuck are you even thinking, dragging your ass in this stupid fucking store in the middle of the night for a third time. And you still don’t have a goddamn record player. God, you pray he never finds that out. He’d probably never stop making fun of you.
You can’t help but shoot a glare in his direction, but your nerves falter the moment you see the shit-eating grin on his face. You swear you can feel your breath hitch in the back of your throat and trap itself. It’s suffocating. Blinding. It’s not fair. He’s so handsome. Dark disheveled hair partially obscuring his coffee-colored eyes, gummy grin, obnoxiously white teeth for a smoker, milky pale skin that’s always at stark odds with his typical black t-shirt, veiny hands. This isn’t good. This isn’t fair. You really want to kiss him.
"What, cat got your tongue or something Ms. Corporate?” He’s leaning across the counter, head cocked as he openly ogles you. It’s not fair. You’ve been a wreck for the last few days, waiting around for some sort of a response and this fucking shrimp is acting like you never spoke. Like nothing changed. Like he didn’t tell you he wanted to see you in person. It’s probably just your own stupidity or neuroticism peaking through, but when he called you Ms. Corporate it felt like that perfect paradise on the phone was all a mirage. As if it never happened. It’s infuriating how he can act so calm. Before you can continue overthinking and turning around in circles you march up to the counter and grip his shirt in your hand, pulling him in for a kiss that he reciprocates unusually quickly. You can feel his tongue slide across your lower lip, asking for entrance when the sound of the door chimes pull you quickly away. Damn these stupid kids buying records in the middle of the night. Don’t they have a curfew?? Fucking rich kids trying to be edgy when they should be at home, in bed, not fucking interrupting this not so Hallmark moment.
"Stop fucking calling me Ms. Corporate, you colossal idiot.“ You can distantly hear him sending you off with a hoarse 'goodnight.’ Everything in you wants to turn around and see what kind of a face he’s making. Is he just making fun of you? Is he as hot and bothered as you from a kiss? It felt like electricity ran up your spine like everything was floating for a moment, the world just goes away when you’re with him and all that’s there is the two of you. Fuck. You like Sargeant fuckface from the record store. And even though you have a feeling that all of this is a terrible idea you can’t help but grin to yourself the entire way home. Hey, at least this time you didn’t waste more money on records you can’t play.
You aren’t sure if it’s the place, or Yoongi, or your increasing age that your mother likes to remind you of constantly (not that you’d ever admit that) that makes you feel so nostalgic, so sentimental. But whenever you’re around him it hits you hard. When did love lose innocence, when did it stop simply being about selfishly, greedily wanting to learn everything about the other person and staying by their side? When did it grow to be a chore, a thing that you did because it was another step on the ladder of life? And why is it that when you’re around him all you can feel is those same simple straightforward feelings? Fuck, you want to kiss him again. His lips were so soft, and you were right, he tasted like Djarum Blacks. You wonder how he got them, you’re pretty sure that there’s a ban on them now. Ashy, a bit of clove lingering on his lips. Lingering on yours. God, it’s almost infuriating how happy that makes you. Almost. But right now, you’re too wrapped up in glee to be annoyed. You hope that somehow, someday, you’ll manage to wrap him around your finger the way he has you so effortlessly wrapped over his. Not that you’re complaining. If you’re going to be wrapped around anyone’s fingers, you’re okay with it being his. Not that you’ve been staring at them whenever he handed you your bags or anything. Nope. That definitely wasn’t the case. Maybe.
When you get back home you try your hardest to stay busy, but your thoughts keep wandering back. Jesus, you think it would be easier to control your brain. It isn’t until your phone clatters off the counter that you realize Yoongi’s calling you, and for a moment you squint at the phone before hastily picking it up and answering. Shit wait, act cool. ”'Sup Colonel nitwit?“ Fuck, wait that wasn’t cool. Christ, why are you like this? What are you, a twelve-year-old boy? You should probably seek counseling for your stupidity. Or maybe not, because when you hear that sing-song laughter reverberating through your ears it suddenly makes everything feel okay again.
"You’re something (y/n). A real piece of work. I mean you called me an idiot earlier, no wait, a colossal idiot and now I’m Colonel nitwit?” He laughs again, and once again you find yourself sliding down the fridge onto the floor, blushing as you blink up at the ceiling. Dejavu. “Ah, this is bad. I should have texted you. Hearing your voice makes me want to see you in person.”
"Foul. Out of bounds. That’s not fair play. You aren’t allowed to say things that cute.“
"You fouled first, who just marches up to someone and kisses them at their place of work?”
"It’s not like anyone else was there.“ You’re glad he isn’t here to see your face, you’re already grinning like a fool and you have a feeling that he’d tease you mercilessly if he could see you right now.
"Until those damn brats showed up.” Ah, it makes you painfully happy that he was just as annoyed as you were. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you just run around my thoughts all damn day.”
"So why didn’t you ever text me back?“
"AH! About that, I realized after I hung up that you said you were out on a date that first time and I suddenly started feeling like a homewrecker. I mean, I know you said that you didn’t seem interested in him or maybe that was me just hoping I heard that I dunno everything feels kind of fuzzy now. My memories are hazy I just-”
"It was just a date, not a boyfriend. I’m not the type to talk to others when I’m sincerely dating. Although I’m also not the type to call up guys who leave me their numbers on receipts. I guess the world is full of surprises.“
"God, this is really bad, I really wanna see your face. And you can’t tell me that this isn’t fair play when you basically just called me special.”
"I’m sorry, but what language were you thinking I was speaking that that’s what you came up with? Because I’m pretty sure I didn’t come close to saying that.“
"No no, it was totally there. In the subtext. It’s all about the subtext you know. I mean you said that you aren’t the type to call guys who give you their number on a receipt and yet you still called me. That makes me special.”
"Bwa-what’s with that. You dork. Shit, now I wanna see your face.“
"Where are you? I’ll come over to you.”
"I’m at my home. Scary. Maybe you are a serial killer and that’s really your goal. You know, to chop me up in little pieces or some weird shit.“
"Wanna take the risk?”
"Kind of.“
"Only kind of??? What’s with that lukewarm response? I’m clearly not a serial killer. But I won’t act like I don’t have nefarious intentions.” You can hear the clicking of the lighter, and you can’t help but take a deep inhale at the same time as him. God, you bet he looks hot smoking. Wait no, smoking is bad. Very very bad. “Where’d your thoughts go right now, (y/n)?” It’s not fair. He has you wrapped around his finger. You want to see him, you want to inhale his scent, run your fingers through his hair, taste him, touch him, fuck him. Fuck. When’s the last time a guy got you this hot and bothered from merely existing? Has this ever actually happened? You aren’t sure.
"I’m curious, describe these nefarious intentions please.“
There’s a pause, another drag of his cigarette. "Alright, I’ll start with the less deviant things. I can’t get the feeling of your lips outta my head. I want to kiss you, hold you, touch you. It’s weird, I’m not normally the type for soft fluffy things. But the world is strange, as you said. You do weird things to my brain (y/n). You run around my thoughts night and day. When the door chimes at work I turn into Pavlov’s dog and hope it’s you.” There’s another long pause, for a moment all you hear is the thudding of your heart rushing into your eardrums and the soft staccato of static coming from your phone.
"Those don’t seem very nefarious to me.“
"Interesting, so you DO want to hear my deviant thoughts.”
"Well, calling your intentions nefarious is a rather interesting way of putting it. It makes it sound more sinister and less…I dunno…sexual? And then when you explained it all seemed rather, I don’t know…innocent I guess.“
"That’s because I don’t wanna scare you off, Ms. Corporate.”
"Again with that stupid name?“
"I wanna fuck you.” Shit, you weren’t expecting him to be that straightforward, especially after he seemed to be beating around the bush earlier. And why are you now a mix of happy and horny? That’s a new mix for you. “I want to see what kind of faces you make when you cum. I want to taste you. I want to see you under me, on top of me, I want to hear you beg, I want to hear you scream my name. I want to ruin you until all you can think of is me. Until all that satisfies you is me, because right now all I can think of is you. All I want is you. And it doesn’t feel fair to not see you in that same boat. So what do you say, (y/n)? Do you still want to see me tonight?”
You want to tell him that you’re also in the same boat, that really the two of you have been going in circles with the same thoughts for probably just as long. Both of you are so greedy, wanting and thinking of nothing but ruining the other. But ruin seems an unfair word, it seems to scratch only the surface. The honest truth is that you just wholeheartedly want the other person, you want them under your thumb to declare them yours. Maybe. It’s strange. You were always the kind of girl to take things slow. You never did one night stands, you never had fuck buddies or booty calls or anything even close to resembling that. Sex was always something that came far later in a relationship. But this? You aren’t even sure what it is. You can’t exactly say he’s a friend, you don’t really know him. You can’t say that you aren’t on the way to becoming lovers, but then again he might be thinking of things from a strictly physical standpoint. You aren’t sure. Maybe you should ask. Someday perhaps. If you were frank though all of this excites you. Fascinates you. Terrifies you ever so slightly. But all you can think of at this moment is that it elates you to no end that he wants you just as much as you want him. How absolutely greedy. “I do. I probably shouldn’t, but I do.”
"Yeah,“ the dark chuckle on the other line brings heat up to your face, your breath catching in your throat. He suffocates you even with the simplest of things, even with a laugh. "Yeah, you probably shouldn’t. You strike me as a good girl. The type to always please others before pleasing herself. The type to not rebel. I don’t know why, but I feel I should at least tell you this. I’m not a good guy, I’m not the guy you take home to your parents or the kind of dude you can gush about to all of your friends. But I am at least confident that I can give you a reprieve. It’s gotta be stressful, being good all the time constantly working for others, constantly pleasing others. But who tries to please you, understand you, allows you to just be selfish every once in a while? I can be that for you. I want to be that for you. Which is really weird because I usually hate when chicks want that from me. And here I am offering myself up on a silver platter to you. Man, the guys would think I’ve gone crazy if I told them this. I don’t even get it, but there’s just something about you that makes me feel…I dunno something.”
It’s strange, how little he knows you and yet he says the things you need to hear the most. When is the last time you did something simply because you wanted to before he stumbled into your life? Did you ever? Here you were hot and bothered before and now you want to cry big fat ugly happy tears. Yoongi gives you emotional whiplash with just a few words. It’s not fair. “I want to see you. Tonight.”
"Okay.“ Another drag, another chuckle. "Okay, then send me your address.”
You fumble with the phone, texting the address over to him quickly, your heart jumping out of your throat the entire time. The anticipation has your heart soaring and nerves dropping deep into your belly, you’re a mess of a multitude of emotions all at the same time.
"Wow, would you look at that. You’re only about ten minutes away from me. I’ll be over soon.“ Before you can respond he hangs up, and you’re left staring at the ceiling wondering momentarily what you’ve just gotten yourself into before you’re scrambling off the kitchen floor and into your bedroom. Shit, shit. You don’t have much time. The house is presentable, barely. Whatever. It’ll have to do. You brush your teeth, comb out your hair quickly, and do a quick once over. He’ll have to just deal with your bare face, but hey at least you shaved in the bath earlier. The doorbell chimes right as you throw an oversized sweater over one of your nicer lace bras you quickly changed into. You nearly knock into every door and corner on your way to the front door, slipping slightly at the entrance before taking a deep breath and opening it.
He’s painfully good looking, but his trademark blase pokerface has you ever so slightly annoyed. Here you were rushing about, a bundle of nerves and energy, and he looks remarkably indifferent to everything. As if he didn’t just tell you that he has, and you quote, nefarious intentions. But that thought runs right out the door the moment he narrows his eyes on you and gives you one of his award-winning gummy grins. You’re so fucked. You’re such a sucker for him already. "You okay?”
"What, yeah, why wouldn’t I be?“ You open the door wider, motioning him to come in before shutting the door gently behind him.
"Because you look nervous. Relax, I’m not here to eat you. Eat you out, maybe. If that’s what you want. I’m only here to give you whatever you want.” He narrows his eyes on you again, his gaze sweeping over you before looking directly at you. It feels like he can see right through you, right down to your very soul. It’s comforting, terrifying, it’s like everything that comes with him is a euphoric blend of polar opposites leaving you to drown somewhere in the in-between. He makes you feel like you’re in the eye of the storm but precariously close to being tossed into the chaos raging all around you.
"I hate to say this, but that sounds almost too good to be true. What’s in it for you?“ You tilt your head, analyzing him as you lean back against the door while trying to feign nonchalance.
"You. And oddly enough, for once that’s enough for me.” He shrugs at this comment, although his eyes narrow a bit as if even he can’t even believe that he just admitted this.
"What if I said I didn’t want more? Or what if I said that I wanted no strings attached if there is more? Or if I said-“
”-I want strings attached. No, I need strings attached.“ You can’t help but blink owlishly back at him as you try to digest this information. You pegged him for a wham-bam-thank you ma'am but I’m never calling you again type of man. "Call me crazy, I mean this is totally out of my typical wheelhouse but I realized that I was jealous when you said you were on a date right before you first came into the shop. If we’re going to do this I want strings attached. Call it whatever you want, but whatever this is it’s just me and you babe. No one else.”
"No one else on either side?“ Greedy, selfish, but fair. You’re over the moon that for whatever reason he’s just the same as you. At least, when it comes to this situation. God, you want him. All of him. You want to sink deeper into this, drown yourself in him, lose yourself in all that he has to offer you. That’s dangerous. But you don’t care, you’re already too far gone. You can feel your stomach tighten, mind halting as he stalks closer to you, his breath hot on your ear as one hand tightens around your waist and pulls you closer to him.
"No one else on either side.” His eyes travel down from your eyes to your lips before slowly wandering back up. God, you just want him to kiss you already.
"Deal.“ Why do you feel like you might have just made a pact with the devil? And why is it that you still really don’t care, as long as it means you get to finally taste him again. Fucking hell, you’re pretty sure all of your sanity flies right out the window when he’s involved. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, just a few centimeters away from your own. So close, so close. It’s like time has stilled. As if the world has fallen away and yet again all that’s left is the two of you. Falling, falling. Sinking. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. Into a chasm of euphoric insanity of pleasure.
Slowly, painfully slowly, you move your hand to his cheek the other hand winding up the firm planes of his chest. That surprises you, you thought he’d be more delicate. He certainly seems delicately built at first glance, but looks can be deceiving. His eyes never leave your own, his sights set squarely on you. Refusing to look away. Refusing to run. A deal has been made with the devil, and the devil is letting you know you aren’t about to leave his crosshairs. "Kiss me, Yoongi.” That signature lazy half-smile of his appears for just a fraction before his lips are on yours. He’s spicy, ashy. That damn clove has your toes curling, sighing, melting into his touch. Fucking hell. You’re already wet, thighs trembling, hands curling his shirt into a ball, as he licks into your mouth.
The beat of your heart sounds painfully loud in your eardrums. Every sound is fuzzy, staticky as if you’re still on the phone. Your own groans almost sound distant, his sighs sound so soft. So content. It feels like the two of you have been dunked in molasses. Time has slowed down for both of you. Moving so slowly, tenderly. Almost as if you’re starstruck lovers who have just one night to cherish each other. As if you’ve known each other’s bodies forever but have never been allowed to explore them. It feels like a fragile spell, moving too quickly might break the magic and the devil will run home with his nefarious intentions long forgotten. His hand grips tighter for a moment before wandering down, palming and massaging your ass before picking up your legs and wrapping them around his waist. He takes the small change in stature to detach from your lips, both of you watching with glossy eyes as a thing string of saliva breaks. “You’re beautiful (y/n).” A hoarse whisper, kind words from a man with a crass mouth. It makes you want to be feral, it makes you want to slow down. It makes you want everything. Nothing but him. He drives you to the brink of insanity with all these diametrically opposing wants and needs.
A long low moan tumbles out of your lips at the feeling of his tongue gliding across the prominent vein of your neck before sinking his lips down. Soft petals of pinks and red appear in his wake, a trail of cherry blossoms in spring-time painted on your skin leading up to your ear before his teeth gently press down on your lobe. Shit. That feels way too good. Toes curling, fingers wrapping into his hair and his tongue tangles skillfully around your ear until suddenly he’s off, his eyes boring back into your own as your breathing tries to slow back down. “Tell me what you want, (y/n). What do you want from me?”
If any other man would have asked you that, with such a knife-sharp gaze, you surely would have clammed up. You’ve never been the vocal type. But you’re too far lost in his eyes to care. There’s a part of you that desperately hopes your own wants will please him, that he’ll sink deeper with you into this chasm of pleasure with you. “I want to suck you off.”
The admission seems to catch him off guard for a moment, there’s almost an innocence to the way he blinks back at you but that’s gone quickly enough that you almost imagine if you really saw it or not. Replaced by a wolfish grin, desire bubbling across his features, infecting your skin, your core. As if the madness is catching. “Well well well. Who knew little Ms. Corporate had that in her? I can’t say the idea of you on your knees hasn’t been in my mind before. I also can’t lie and say that it isn’t one of the most exquisite things I’ve ever thought of. But I thought I told you that this was about you? About your pleasure? Are you sure that’s what you want?” Your brain processes his words slowly, you’re far too focused on his growing erection pressing against your inner thigh to think clearly and quickly.
"I told you, Yoongi. I want you. I want you to lose yourself just as much as me.“ That’s right, you want to watch him fall into pleasure just as you have. You want this madness, this desire, this sin to grip him tightly just as it has gripped you. You’re greedy that way. And right now the greatest satisfaction you could receive is seeing him out of control, and you in it. You might be on your knees for him, but he’ll be under your spell.
You unlatch your legs slowly, trembling slightly as you lace your fingers through his and pull him along to your bedroom silently. All you can hear is the hum of the A/C and the sound of your shallow breathing when you push through the bedroom door and lead him to the edge of the bed. Before you can move, his hands are quickly pulling off your sweater and tugging down your leggings until you’re left in just your underwear. "I’m not about to have you finally blow me and you’re still dressed.” His fingers gracefully move around your back, unlatching your bra and tossing it behind you. It’s feverish, the look he sends you. All you can think of is that you want more. You want to see him look at you like that all day. As if you’re the only woman he wants. As if he needs you. You can’t even respond, too lost in the way he looks at you like he wants to devour you whole. So instead you move forward a step, tugging his t-shirt over his head and staring for a second at his bare skin.
He has those skinny boy abs, the kind that you always felt weren’t fair because it comes naturally from stupid fast metabolisms and not hard work. But you aren’t going to complain right now, not when he looks so good and he’s yours. All yours. Whatever this is, he made a deal, no one else. You can be as greedy as you want because he’s just the same. You sink down onto your knees, your eyes locking onto his as you unbuckle his belt and toss it off to the side. You aren’t sure if it’s just your hopeful imagination or if you really do hear his breath catch in his throat as you slowly unzip his jeans before letting them fall to the floor. He’s a briefs kind of guy, thank god. You’ve always hated how boxers look on men. He takes a moment to shuffle out of his pants completely before prying off his tight black briefs, and your mouth instinctively waters at the sight.
He’s thick, veiny, and you’re happy to report that he keeps everything well-groomed. Thank god, no pubes will be stuck in your teeth tonight. Heat rises up to your cheeks at the way he looks at you with carnal anticipation. Suddenly you aren’t so sure about all your earlier internal bravado about being the one to make him sink deeper into pleasure with you. He’s looking at you like a predator stalking his prey. As if a meal has just presented itself to him on a silver platter. But you’ll change that, you want nothing more than to watch that mask fall off. You want him to break. To fall. To tremble underneath your touch the way you shake with anticipation and euphoria under his watchful gaze.
It’s with an unwavering determination that you finally grasp his dick in your hand, staring up at him as you pepper soft kisses around his tip. He’s salty, tangy, drooling with precum. Delicious. Sinful. Perfect. You refuse to move your gaze off of his eyes, you want to watch him. You want to see how he falls apart. It only takes one long lick from the base to the tip to start seeing the si
