You’d spent the entire day flitting between your lovers
Riling each of them up in the way you knew would affect them the most.
You pitted Jin and Jungkook against each other for your affection
You’d spent the better part of the afternoon “subconsciously” stroking Namjoon’s thighs.
You made direct eye contact with Hobi and completely ignored every one of Jimin’s attempts to gain your attention.
You lead Tae on as you ate ice cream while he was working out.
Everything went wrong when you attempted to play with Yoongi.
Really you should know better by now, the rapper doesn’t take too kindly to teasing.
You’d asked him to show you what he was working on.
But instead of sitting still and listening like a good girl, you’d sat in his lap and wriggled.
He’d ignored you to start with, going through the motions of showing you his work.
Unsatisfied with his reaction, you’d leaned back into his shouldered and moaned as if every weight in the world had been lifted off of your shoulders.
You rolled your back against his chest and sighed against his ear.
His hands froze on the keys, and you smiled to yourself, content.
You had intended to take yourself off to hide then, let one (or more) of them find you later to make up for your games.
But Yoongi didn’t let you stand when you tried.
He slapped down on your thigh and held you in place.
You looked at him as innocently as you could manage, seemingly confused.
He didn’t buy it for a second.
“I don’t like naughty girls Y/N.” He stated matter of factly.
He allowed you up, a hand holding your wrist to keep you from running.
“You are going to apologise to each of the boys for distracting them today, but first you’re going to make it up to me.”
You nodded, the tone in his voice warning you not to argue.
“Bedroom princess, Now.” It was barely above a whisper, but it was filled with the authority of a king.
You scurried along to his and Jin’s shared room and sat on the edge of their double bed.
He walked leisurely behind.
Bringing you to now…
He has had a vibrator attached to your clit for 20 minutes now as his fingers play with your holes.
Your hands are cuffed to the headboard with a towel lain out beneath you…
He’d made that mistake before and didn’t fancy Jin’s disapproval all over again.
You were leaking all over his fingers.
Dripping onto the towel.
Making quite the mess of yourself.
It feels too good.
But it is a punishment after all.
Each time you have gotten close Yoongi has changed the vibration pattern and stolen your orgasm away.
He kisses you softly every time.
A sweet gesture from the outside.
A known gloat to those that know him.
He gets off on the fact that you can’t, not without his say so.
The ultimate control.
He dips his head between your legs licking at the slick.
Partially to clean you up, partially to tease you more.
There is no pressure behind his motions, but the promise of his tongue is just so close.
He kisses you again when you are clean.
Pushes his tongue covered in your own juices into your mouth for you to taste.
He stretches his fingers inside of your asshole one more time before pulling back, the thumb inside of your pussy leaving too, making you feel empty.
The vibrator stops and he wipes the remaining dampness off of your legs.
You moan, overstimulated and unsatisfied all in one.
“Aw pretty sounds baby… maybe I should sample you on that track that’s now laying unfinished… a little like you.” He chuckles as he undoes your cuffs.”
You rub at your cuffs and sit up, making sure to flash him your best pout as you do.
“Apologise to the rest of the boys… however they want you and then I’ll finish you off princess.”
Your eyes light up at the permission.
It’ll be easy to get one of the others to finish you off.
“And I’ve already texted them to tell you no.”
His gummy grin is in complete opposition to his evil words.
You sigh a roll your eyes.
“I don’t have to finish you off at all today you know?”
“Sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll go find the others right now!” You launch forward and kiss him on the lips before sprinting from the room to track down your first apology.
Nothing was going right for your poor husband today. He was trying to finish production on the new album. Mostly just finishing touches, but there was one song that refused to sound the way he wanted it to. You’d joined him around lunch time, bringing him lunch and making yourself comfortable on his sofa, mostly just to make sure he ate. For a while you just watched him work, content to watch him do what he does best. As the afternoon wore on, he was getting no closer to his goal and you unfortunately had things to do around the house. You stand to make your way out of the room, but he grabs your wrist.
“Stay” he whispers, pulling you close and burying his head into your tummy. You stroke at his hair, pulling slightly to relieve the pressure of the headache you were sure he had by now.
“Okay baby” you kiss his forehead and sit back on the sofa. There is a book laying on the table and you take it upon yourself to start reading. You’re only half a chapter in when you find yourself falling asleep. Sounds of frustration break through your nap. Yoongi’s head is in his hands, defeated. Your heart cries for him, knowing how stressed he is. Standing, you move to behind his chair, rubbing his shoulders. He leans into your touch, sighing at the small stress relief. He would never admit it, but Yoongi was a very tactile person, the tiniest touches could make him feel worlds better. You adjust the pressure, digging your thumbs deeper into the sore spots. He pulls you in to his lap and plays with your hair. Stroking you helps to calm his energy and yours. The track is still far from finished but now he feels lighter, like it will all fall into place soon.
Having felt him relax, it’s not long until you get a little frisky. Moving so you are straddling him, you nuzzle your face into his neck and play with his hair. He continues to work for a little while longer, but you feel his hips wriggle uncomfortably as his arousal grows. You grind your hips downwards, wanting to feel the friction of his fly against your leggings. Hands grab at your hips, forcing you to stay still. Yoongi’s eyes are filled with nothing but lust when you lift your head to look at him.
“I’m supposed to be working my love” he whispers, although it’s clear he doesn’t want you to stop. Instead, you lean your head forward, claiming his mouth with your own. Nibbling at his bottom lip until he allows your tongue entry to explore.
“We will just have to be quick then baby” you retort. He lifts you from his office chair, having you wrap your legs around his waist. Your back hits the studio door as he reaches for the lock before laying you out on the sofa. Clothes fly across the room, as eager hands roam over newly exposed skin. Mouths meet in a fever, eager to taste each other. The thought of sex in the Big Hit studio was thrilling. Sure, it had crossed your mind a few times, it just always seemed like an illicit fantasy. Your husbands tongue travels down your body, licking everywhere he could, occasionally stopping to kiss and bite little marks in his wake.
“I thought that said quick Yoongi-ah” your voice lilts at the end as two of his delicate fingers make their way inside your dripping hole. He scissors the digits making your back arch from the stretch.
“I’ll be as quick as I can jagi” he coos. The fingers are gone as soon almost as quickly as they enter, and you find yourself already mourning the loss. Its short lived as you find his face next to yours once more, his hard cock pressing at your entrance. “Ready?” you nod, and he pushes his way in. the lack of prep has you cringing at the stretch, but the burn feels so good. You signal its okay for him to start moving and he starts. At first his thrusts are achingly slow; you can feel every inch of him. Gradually his speed builds, each little increase like a small new torture for you aching pussy. He moves to lean on one elbow. This leaves his other arm free to drift between your bodies.
His hand plays with your clit, rolling it expertly, in the way only he knew how. The sensation had you keening. The familiar knot in your stomach was building fast. The release was sweet, a wave of pleasure, passed over your body with a moan of your husband’s name. your grabby hands search for him, needing him closer. They come to settle in his hair, tugging at the strands in the best way. His orgasm isn’t too far behind yours and the two of you lay there for a moment before he pulls out, all his weight resting on you.
“Okay my love I think that’s enough for today” he gets to his feet and finds some tissue to help clean you up. “I think it’s time we tidy up and just went home” he helps you up from the sofa and pulls you into a sweet embrace before helping to collect the clothes strewn across the room.
BTS scenario/reaction - Sex/Sexual acts while one is asleep
Warning: blowjobs, sex with the unconscious, consensual sex, female oral, fingering.
Smut under the cut
Namjoon
It was clear you had tried to wait for him but they’d been delayed
You’d fallen asleep in sexy lingerie
A book by your side and reading glasses askew on your face
Mouth ajar with a little drool
You still looked undeniably sexy all dressed up or rather down for him
He placed your book to the side careful to keep your page
He slipped the glasses away desperate not to wake you before having a little fun
You had had an agreement for a long time that he could touch you however and whenever he liked provided there was no safe word used.
He turned you gently onto your back and spread your legs wide enough for him to lie in between
He slides your panties out of the way and flattens his tongue against your folds
You start to stir as he sucks on your clit and pumps one finger into you
“Hi Jagi, sorry I’m late.”
You don’t get a chance to respond before he is diving back in to make you moan for him
Seokjin
The clingiest man when he comes back from tour
Wants to do everything with you and for you
Cockwarming was something you did a lot during this time
An extra layer of intimacy you could share
Working from home, watching TV, playing video games
However this is the first time you’ve tried whilst asleep
Cuddly sleepers anyway it made sense
Until you’re awoken by his thrusts
Once you figured out what was actually happening you couldn’t help but be turned on
Jin was still asleep
Some wet dream being lived out in real time
You roll so he is on his back
Riding him through the dream and kissing his bare chest until he comes to
He doesn’t open his eyes, but you know the moment he wakes as his thrusts go from shallow languid rolls to deep forceful jolts
“What a wonderful way to wake up” he murmurs after finishing
Yoongi
You worked out early on in the relationship the best way to wake Yoonig up and not have to deal with a grump was a blowjob
He’d worked through the night again
Fast asleep his mixing desk
You squeeze yourself into the space underneath the table and unzipped his shorts
It’s so routine now that you can free him without him so much as stirring
You pump your hand along his hardening length before leaning in to kiss the tip
His breathing hitched as you tongued his slit his eyes flickering at the sensation
You could tell he was close to consciousness when he started to moan
His hands laced into your hair just as you took the last inch down your throat
“Good morning, Princess” his voice was still heavy with sleep
The sound mixed with the way he was petting your hair made you moan around his cock
Moments later he came undone deep down your throat.
Hoseok
Hobi was awoken by all your wriggling
At first he thought you were having a nightmare…
Until you moaned his name
He pulled back the covers to reveal your hand inside your pjs trying to provide some relief
Being the wonderful caring boyfriend he is, he thought he should lend a hand
He carefully removed your hand chuckling a little as you whimpered change your nose at the loss of friction
He cuddled close nibbling your ear lobe as his hand replaces yours
Your features straighten out again when he applies pressure to your clit
He whispers dirty words in your ear to influence your dreams
Dirty girl, so needy for me even in your dreams
Gonna come for me without even knowing
So wet for me
You mumble back “For you.” And Hobi has to check that you’re still asleep
You are
He gets more daring leaving his thumb on your clit and sliding his index finger through your folds dipping it inside
He thrusts the digit shallowly
Enjoying the little ‘o’ your mouth forms when he plays with a second finger
Every noise you make his music to his ears
He keeps his eyes on your face
Adding a third finger inside and curling each one as you stretch
The only change in you is the pleasure on your face
You cum in your sleep and Hobi isn’t sure he has ever seen anything sexier
He pulls his hand away and licks it clean taking note of how heavy a sleeper you are
Jimin
You awaken from your nap very disorientated feeling the heat pulling in the pit of your stomach and hands kneading your spread thighs
You can’t help the scream you release when you see the dark head of hair between your legs Jimin’s face peaks up smirking at you, lips covered in your cum
“Fucking hell Chim! You scared the fuck outta me” You half heartedly smack the side of his head
He was blonde when he left this morning
“Sorry baby. I’ll make it up to you.” He winks before reattaching his plump lips to your clit and sucking like his life depended on it
Two fingers scissor inside you
You’re not sure how long he’s been going at it but judging by the knot pulling in your stomach you wouldn’t need to go for much longer
The orgasm shudders through you
Thoroughly fucked out and oversensitive you hear the sound of a zipper
“My turn” he chimes lining himself up and you groan loving the overstimulation so soon
Taehyung
He woke so needy and desperate
In his half-asleep state he does the only logical thing
He put his leg across your sleeping body and starts using you for relief
You wake up when it starts to feel like you’re on a boat
You are unsurprised to find Tae with lidded eyes rolling his hips against your leg impatiently waiting for you to wake up
He has a way of asking for what he wants with actions and not words
You roll your eyes as he nudges into your arm
His boxy smile lights up his face when you agree
You rollover pressing your bum into him having forgone panties in favour of a long T shirt
He fingers you slowly for a while the motion relaxing enough to lull you back into a shallow sleep
Once he’s satisfied with your stretch, he hooks your leg over the top of him and lines himself up to you and rocks gently, finally content
Jungkook
It starts as a drunken bet between friends with benefits
“I bet I could make you cum in my sleep” he sounds so cocky
“But wouldn’t I be doing all the work? That would make you a glorified sex toy Hun.”
“OK, I bet I could make you cum in your sleep then”
“Without me waking up?.. You’re on”
Weeks go by and you forget but he doesn’t, plotting his time
You’d fallen asleep on his sofa after movie night and everyone else had already gone home
Through all the guys talking (and him accidentally hitting your head against the door frame when he moved you to bed)
It was now or never
He was careful removing your jeans scared to lose he hates losing
He starts tentatively rubbing your clit and watching your face for every reaction
The longer it goes on the braver he gets
Pinching your clit
Watching his index finger into you and feeling for the spot he knows drives you crazy
Your eyes flutter but you stay asleep
Finally he peels his gaze from your face to the matter hand
Just seeing how what you are for him gets him ridiculously wound up
All caution thrown to the wind as the blood from his brain go southbound
He slotted himself between your legs
Lapping hungrily at the juices
Diving his tongue in when he needed more
He ground himself against the bed seeking friction
Two fingers in
Sucking desperately at your clit
He felt you start to tense, a sign you’re as close as he had managed to get himself
He came in his pants as he felt you release on his face
Panting for breath he was a little relieved that you haven’t seen how easily he’d come all over himself…
Yoongi X reader - married Wax play, ice play, f!oral, unprotected sex
This had been the worst fight the two of you had had in a long time. Yoongi was due to set off on a new world tour within the next month and he kept bringing home the stress of rehearsals with him. Every time he came home he either collapsed on the sofa and stayed there until long after you gone to bed, or forced himself through dinner with you snapping at you when you asked questions he deemed too overwhelming for his current mental state. You know he didn’t mean it, often apologising as soon as he realises how short he had been with you, but after two weeks you’d had enough.
“STOP IT!” you shout after the twelfth grumbled reply of the evening “You have been awful to me for weeks now, and I get it you are stressed but did you ever think maybe I have bad days too?” he glances up at you from under his bangs before excusing himself from the table and locking himself in his home studio. You let out an exasperated sigh before throwing the empty plates into the sink, chipping one in the process. The flood gates opened then, and you retreated to your shared bedroom, safe in the knowledge that your husband would not come to bed until after he was sure you were asleep.
You must’ve passed out while crying. When you awoke the sun was streaming through the crack in the blinds, Yoongi no where to be found. He must have come in at some point though because your jeans had been removed, and you were tucked in with your favourite blanket and the teddy bear he bought you for your first date. You cuddle the small toy close before unravelling yourself and going in search of your missing spouse. You walk out into the living room but he’s not on the sofa. You search further into the house, heading for his musical sanctuary. That’s where you find him. Curled up on the small leather sofa in the corner usually reserved for when you want to watch him work. Soft snores fall from his mouth, he looks so peaceful there, finally relaxed. You crouch by his side and try to wake him, eager to sort through any lingering contempt from the night before. However, when he doesn’t stir, an evil idea forms in your head.
You run back to the kitchen to receive your weapon of choice. The ice cubes burn your hand a little as you rush back to mess with the man you love. When you return, he has turned in his sleep, giving you the perfect access to your target. You almost abort the plan when you see his angelic face, mouth slightly agape, he just looks so cute. But the ice is staring to drip out of our hand so its now or never. You take one of the cubes and rub it gently along the back of his neck. He lets out a small moan in protest to the damp sensation. The noise only spurs on your mischievous replacement for an alarm clock. You drop two ice cubes down his back, knowing how sensitive he is. The sudden damp wakes him up immediately and you rush to hide the evidence, slipping the remaining ice cubes into your mouth, not having an exit strategy for him awaking so fast.
The bleary man eyes you suspiciously, looking at your blown-out chipmunk cheeks. While tired he is not stupid. His eyes squint as his hand reaches out to push your cheeks together. One of the cubes falls out of your mouth and he laughs shaking his head at your antics, felling the tension break between the two of you. You stick your tongue out, the last remaining block of ice proudly sat in the middle. He pulls you in to kiss you. The two of you pass the cold shard back and forth until nothing remains. You pull away a little breathless, resting your forehead against his.
“I’m sorry for shouting at you baby” you whisper, genuinely sad that you’d snapped knowing how hard he’d been working.
“Don’t be silly, it’s all on me. I should never be that short with you ever. I love you far too much to ever make you that upset.” His hand caresses the side of your face as you cling to him, happy to finally be talking through the rising resentment.
“I love you too… so much” tears sting your eyes again when you think about how much your going to miss him when he goes on tour, knowing that part of the argument was pushing each other away in preparation for the long separation.
“Come with me?” he asks for what must be the hundredth time since the tour was announced. You sigh about to refuse again, you couldn’t just up and leave your job and friends, especially with how busy he would be, but his lips press against yours to halt your response. “Please, I don’t want to leave you again, I can’t” his eyes plead with yours, a sadness planted deep within them.
“Maybe” your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s all he needs for now “Maybe for a little bit of the tour at least” you clarify, but it doesn’t matter, because he knows you, once your resolve budges an inch he can run with it for a mile. He sweeps you into his arms, all sleepiness worn off. He carries you back to your bedroom as you squeal for him to release you. He dumps you on the bed and is instantly covering your body with his. He places kisses along your chin and down your throat before pulling your hands away from your sides and above your head. He secures them with the handcuffs that had become a permanent fixture to your headrest.
“Now I think it’s time to get you back for the rather rude awakening this morning.” He pulls your shirt up your body, so it pools around your extended arms and crawls back off the bed. Reaching into your box of toys he pulls out a candle and lighter. “Fire for ice… what do you think Jagi” his voice dropped an octave as he set the wick alight and waited for wax to start dripping from the top. You squirm in anticipation as he moves the candle over your body. He tests the temperature on his own skin before letting it hang freely over your stomach.
*drip*
The first splatter of warmth hits your stomach and you let out a moan.
*drip*
*drip*
The next two hit your thighs, close to your core. His free hand moves to play with the drying wax connecting the small trail of dots, his fingers getting dangerously close to where you wanted them most before he pulled them away and moved the candle to a new target. The wax was flowing a little quicker now, he took the opportunity to write his initials across your chest before blowing out the flame and placing the candle on the heatproof mat on your dresser. He signals you to stay still and exits the room. You close your eyes awaiting his return, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wax on your skin.
You hear him return but don’t bother to look. Your trust in him is complete, unwavering. A trust you regret just a little when the ice I dragged slowly across your heated flesh. Your eyes fly open, glaring at the cocky smirk now on his face.
“What happened to the fire?” you question trying to sound annoyed and failing miserably. His freezing touch prevents you from actually being upset. Too turned on to even keep up your fake argument. He pulls the cube down from between your breasts to your pussy, holding it just above your slit and letting the cool water mix in with your juices. When that cube was gone Yoongi reached for another one from a glass on the side. Placing it on his tongue he tucked his head between your legs and blew a cold wind over your still heated skin. One arm wrapped around your thigh the other snaking underneath him to play with your folds. Once his mouth is almost as cold as the ice he licks up your slit before sucking on your clit.
The severe temperature shift made you shiver with pleasure. His mouth moves expertly against your clit, drawing nonsensical shapes in your skin. Two of his fingers tease your entrance, their tips dancing in and out of you but never enough to cause the stretching burn you craved from them. Your about to whine for what you want, not above begging after the taunting he had put you through, when he surprises you by pushing three of his digits inside. You let out a high squeak at the sudden intrusion, the burn almost too much. Almost. You grind down as far as the handcuffs will let you. He chuckles at your eager reaction, pulling his hand back as much as far as you advanced.
“Please” the plea left your mouth almost involuntarily. He pumps his fingers languidly in and out. His digits curve expertly against your sweet spot.
“Please what Jagi… tell me what you need” he places kisses on your thighs and waits for your response.
“Fuck me… hard, make me cum hard all over your cock” your filthy mouth makes it impossible for him to hold back any longer. He rips his fingers from you almost painfully. He unlocks your hands, flips you over, and removes his pants. You grip onto the pillows as he lines himself up. He thrusts into you hard, pistoning his hips like a man gone mad. The feeling is incredible. One hand reaches round to play with your clit as the other wraps in your hair pulling you up flush against him. He places small kisses along your shoulders in between the grunts leaving his mouth. Your orgasm builds quickly in this position. The combination of the angle and his ministrations on the bundle of nerves between your legs has you almost screaming as the pleasure overtakes you, your husband not far behind as his hips stutter.
He cuddles you close as the two of you fall to the mattress, exhausted. When your highs fade, he moves to grab your recover kit, using a plastic card to remove the dried wax from your skin and rubbing the areas with a soothing moisturiser. He places kisses to the slightly pink skin and pulls you favourite blanket back around the two of you as you fall into a late morning nap. Back in his arms where you belong.
warnings:rated M (18+) for language; depression; alcohol consumption; self-destructive behavior; mention of experiencing a panic attack; reader is pansexual; angst / fluff / feels; mentions of and alludes to smut; non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers with Yoongi and JK; switches between JK, Yoongi, reader, and omnipresent POV
a–dick–ted au. It is recommended to read all other parts before this one, as it alludes to many moments in all the previous parts.
–
“Why didn’t she want me?”
Day in, day out, skirting responsibilities, making excuses, his life and heart falling apart, promises broken, nothing mattering, friends trying to step in and him pushing them away, everything balancing on a thin, thin line, slowly, gradually, crumbling.
“What did I do wrong?”
Most nights, lost in a haze, playing the game of will he wake up tomorrow or not.
“Jungkook, get up.”
That tired voice, raspy with strain and pain, drifting down. Hands reaching under his armpits and hoisting him up with a grunt of effort, because he was bigger, younger, and stronger than the body trying to carry him, but he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t believe it, couldn’t standit.
He reached out for another beer, but a pale hand covered his, gently pulling his hand away, squeezing his fingers.
“You’ve had enough.”
The thinner body was holding up his fragile self, struggling. He clung onto it, clutching onto the leather and burying his face into the collar. Black hair. Pine, leather, whiskey.
“Hyung…”
That small, weak voice wasn’t his. It wasn’t. In his head, he was confident, happy, playful, holding her hand and dragging her to him, on top of his body once more, rough, wild, passionate kisses, warmth and desire, his forever dream, his never-ending moment.
“I’m here with you.”
He hadn’t even realized how loud the house was, bumping into people and stumbling as Min Yoongi dragged him along, holding him protectively, blurred faces and strange shadows all around, and he couldn’t look at the people around them, judging and scrutinizing, shaking their heads. He chose to stare into black hair instead. The stench of alcohol was so strong. It was disgusting, but he couldn’t avoid it. In his stomach, his mouth, his lungs, threatening him, drowning him from the inside out.
“I still…” he slurred, voice cracking, unable to finish.
“I know,” Yoongi said gruffly, but it was consoling somehow, the way he said it. “I’m right here with you.”
Yoongididknow.
When he closed his eyes, he could see it, her profile, the shape of her eyes, the tilt of her head and her cascading hair. The way she looked at his room, inspecting the music memorabilia, knowing they were all parts of him. The interest, the awe, the…
He would call her name and she would face him, those plush lips parting, looking right at him.
And he could feel it. He swore he could, and he said so that fateful day, slamming his fist to his wall, sliding down, the tears stinging his eyes, he swore that it was real, that look in her eyes.
Like she wanted him.
Like she needed him.
Jungkook swore to Yoongi he saw it in her eyes.
No.
That day didn’t happen.
It wasn’t real.
In his head, Jungkook was still there, in his apartment, clutching the photo behind his back, looking into her eyes and her looking back.
Like she loved him.
-
He had to close his eyes to see her, because she wasn’t there when he opened them.
She would knock on his door and he would open it and pull her in, her voice saying his name, a mixture of indignance and fondness, clutching his shirt, his hands flipping up her skirt, revealing her black panties at his front door before he closed it, pressing her body against it, deep, hungry kisses, her hands holding his face.
“Jungkook… I could have walked in on my own, you psycho.”
Her chastising him, but, somehow, she didn’t seem to mean it at all.
“Sorry, noona. I don’t care.”
And she would click her tongue, but she would pull him closer, his smirk against her inviting lips, already pulling her into the apartment, her hastily kicking off her black boots, him pulling off her jacket, sliding his hands up her thighs, moaning into her mouth at the softness of her ass, the way she filled his hands, perfect, always perfect, lifting her so she had to hold onto him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands tangling in his silver hair.
“Jungkook…”
Every second, every moment, so real he could almost taste it, taste the desire in her kiss, taste the lingering artificial sweetness of the gummy bears from her tongue, taste her skin on his lips and the way it vibrated with her moan, her thighs squeezing him, making him hard with that action alone.
His name, floating down to his ears.
“J-Jungkook…”
He couldn’t get enough, never.
He didn’t want anyone else, never.
He would whisper her name against her skin and she would shudder at the feeling of his tongue travelling across her throat, her moan filling his ears, his head, his heart.
“No one else but you.”
Jungkook would dump her on his bed where a large lump would grunt in annoyance, pulling down the blanket, small smile on that disgruntled face once he realized who it was, Jungkook pushing her up against Min Yoongi and her squeak of surprise.
“Yoongi? What are you doing here?”
His hyung pulling up her shirt, humming in response.
“Can’t stand being at mine sometimes.”
Unhooking her bra, tossing it aside, so Jungkook could lean down and scoop her breasts to his face, flickering his tongue over them as Yoongi tipped her head back to look into her eyes.
“More fun for you, right?” that raspy voice would taunt, deft tongue flicking between pink lips.
And he would watch, watch his hyung kiss her and feel her body strain under his teasing touch, her back arching, shoving her tits into his face, his lips closing around one of her hard nipples, so good, so delicious, Yoongi’s tongue playing with her mouth, whines buried in her chest.
The world could tell him no.
The world could tell him to wake up.
The world could tell him right from wrong.
But Jungkook would never believe it. He would never believe this was wrong, her in his hands and in Yoongi’s hands, her pressed up against them at the end of the night, her quiet breathing its own rhythm and song, the dreamlike melody of his days and nights and Jungkook would never want anything else like he wanted these moments.
Never.
In his world, it was just him, his hyung, and his noona.
Then, he would open his eyes and she wasn’t there.
It was him, his hyung, and the alcohol.
Staring into nothing, emptiness in his soul.
“I still want you…” Jungkook mumbled, crumpled in the hallway of some random house, the world around him alive, but he saw none of it, lost in the world in his head.
“Jungkook, get up.”
-
He thought he knew what the worst feeling in the world was.
He really did.
What a joke.
He had seen a lot of shit. He grew up yelling and fighting to create his music, straining relationships, severing ties. He met terrible people, got screwed out of time and money, went to bed hungry, heard of his friends’ arrests or, worse, their deaths. It tore him up, it crippled him from the inside, and it manifested as his darkness, the depths inside him that threatened to swallow him up when there were too many people, too many pressures, too many fears. All these, and he thought he had experienced the worst feeling in the world.
But he was wrong.
The worst feeling in the world was watching Jeon Jungkook throw up on the fucking grass, rubbing his back as he retched out the contents of his stomach, most of it being alcohol tainted with bile.
It was disgusting, pitiful, and it hurt him so, so very much to watch.
“H… Hyung…”
Fuck, his broken, weak voice hurt him even more.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out some paper napkins, handing them to the younger man to wipe his mouth as he looked around. He let Jungkook be for a quick moment as he rushed back into the house, pushing drunk people aside to find a cooler, snatching a water bottle from half-melted ice. The change in temperature shocked him for a moment before he gritted his teeth and strode back out, finding Jungkook walking alone, swaying and stumbling, bumping into cars, his silver hair matted and stuck to his sweaty forehead.
“Yoongi-hyung…?”
He sounded so lost.
Me too.
“Jungkook.”
He had to shake his shoulder for Jungkook to turn around. He had to unscrew the cap and bring the water to the shaking lips, tipping it slowly, letting the younger man drink. He had to tell him to swallow, otherwise it seemed like he wouldn’t.
It hurt him.
It was the worst feeling in the world, shoving Jungkook into a taxi, avoiding the disapproving look of the driver as he handed him the crumpled bills, dragging him back to the apartment building, going to the third floor and Jungkook furiously shaking his head, tears streaming down, please hyung, no,not back there, please, and him agreeing, walking past, up to the fourth floor, his chest tight as he opened his apartment, the corner unit, seeing his still-open bathroom door.
Mocking him.
The flash of memory, absolute panic and yanking the bathroom door closed, locking it, tearing at his skin, his clothes, sinking down into the tile, terror and loathing rolled into one, tormenting his mind and his soul, inner voices telling him he couldn’t do it, couldn’t perform on a stage with that many people and seeing so many eyes on him, telling him that he wasn’t good enough, that he deserved nothing good in this world.
It didn’t matter if they were lies because, in that moment, he couldn’t tell the truth from the lies anyway.
A tentative tap on the door, soft silvery voice cutting through the thoughts.
“Hyung? Are you okay?” Jungkook had asked. The doorknob rattled. “Do you need help?”
“Don’tcome in here,” he had growled, animalistic and in pain.
The rattling stopped.
He heard movement, as if someone had gotten to their knees. He heard weight; palms pressed to the wood. And then, gentleness, like a small light in his darkness.
“It’s okay, hyung. I’ll help you.”
Help? No one could help him. No one. No one did this to him. It was all him. It was all in his head.
“What do you need?” Jungkook had murmured quietly. “You can ask for anything. Anything. I’ll do my best to make it happen. I promise.”
He hadn’t replied.
Athunk, like a forehead to wood.
“Yoongi-hyung. Please. Let me help you.”
Despair.
Silence.
His mouth had opened and her name had drifted out like smoke.
“Okay, hyung. Okay. I’ll get her. I promise.”
We’re not a moment, right?
Now, the heavy weight on his shoulder slid down, almost falling to the floor, but Yoongi caught him, caught Jeon Jungkook’s drunken state and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him inside, leaning him against the wall and taking off his shoes, helping Jungkook out of his, his own self broken inside, but hauling the larger, younger man down the hallway to his bedroom, settling him on the bed and adjusting his head, Jungkook losing consciousness, lost in his dreams once more.
And no matter how much Min Yoongi wanted to fall apart, no matter how much he wanted to drink all of the whiskey inside this apartment and pass out along with Jungkook, hoping and praying that he never woke up, Yoongi did none of that.
He sat and stayed with his dreamer, brushing the silver strands out of his face, not falling asleep so he could be there for him in case anything happened. Because when he was at his lowest point, there were only two people that stuck by him and one of them was gone now.
Yoongi did not want to lose the other.
He reached over and placed his hand on Jungkook’s chest, feeling the firm thud-thud of his heart.
“We’re not a moment, right?” he whispered to the air, pain slicing into his frail voice.
Only now, when Jungkook couldn’t see him, did Yoongi cry.
-
He knew he should give up.
She was just like him, running from the nameless demons in her head. Misery loved company and all that shit. Sure, whatever. He thought she would be upset when he told her he had no interest in relationships, that he didn’t want to be her boyfriend, that he didn’t believe in love.
That was the first sign.
The little sting when he saw her expression after saying that. She seemed relieved. He brushed it off, as he always did. Only playing around, treating it like a high-stakes gamble instead of what it was. He knew he would get tired and give up, eventually. He always did, before her.
He didn’t give up.
Yoongi knew he couldn’t.
The second sign was how easily he remembered her favorite things.
The kiss that made her wet, the moments of daring ‘what-ifs’, the way he held her in his lap and made her grind on him in public, not letting her focus on anything else. People? Yoongi didn’t give a shit about people. It was only him and his girl.
The third sign.
His.
Girl.
The fourth sign.
Jeon Jungkook confronting him, admitting his dream girl he wanted to lose his virginity with. Consequences? Yoongi didn’t care about consequences. He only cared about how aroused he knew this was going to make his naughty girl. He lived his life without thinking about the future. He always had.
The fifth sign.
He liked it. Liked watching Jungkook do things to her, suggesting crazy shit, liked feeling her shiver after Jungkook wrecked her and then doing the wrecking himself, her fingers clutching his shoulders, her desperate kiss, asking for more in breathless whispers. It probably wasn’t right, but Yoongi didn’t give a shit, because when he was with her, it was paradise. When he was with her, there were no nameless demons to run away from.
And when she wasn’t there, when the demons came back, there was Jungkook.
Jungkook pulled him from his nightmares with his dreams, his plans, his ideas. Compelling him, distracting him, redirecting his energy.
The sixth sign.
Yoongi knew, this time, this time was different.
He was the one who took the first picture. He took it himself, on his phone when she wasn’t looking. He stared at that photo for hours, studying that profile, that face, those eyes, and he made a choice.
He told Jungkook.
And Jungkook to his own photo, as Yoongi knew he would, because Jungkook had never hid his desire in the first place. They printed them together. Wrote on the backs of them together. Held them nervously, together, looking into each other’s eyes.
Afraid.
The seventh sign.
The way she said his name.
Her eyes, his paradise, their never-ending moment and their forever dream.
And the shattering of his heart when she dropped the photos and ran. She was just like him. He would have run too. But it was different this time. This time, Yoongi was on the receiving end and he knew how much it hurt.
-
He knew the way people talked about him. That he was a bad boy, A playboy. That he didn’t care about anything. That he was a puny, good-for-nothing, shitty rapper. But he sold out venues, even if they were small.
That was him, Min Yoongi.
He could have walked away. Fuck it. This whole thing was crazy anyway. Didn’t make any fucking sense. It shouldn’t work and he shouldn’t try to make it work.
We’re not a moment, right?
He could have told Jeon Jungkook to get a fucking grip and stop moping, because fuck, he wasn’t moping like him, right?
Right?
Yoongi would tell himself that as he held fistfuls of sheets, soaking them with his eyes, stifling any sound he made, Jungkook snoring loudly above him. He would stop before the sun rose, getting up to wash his face and throw himself onto the bed, the stinging pain of keeping his eyes open finally too much.
Was it always going to be like this? Forever like this, this pain?
He hated it.
Therefore, Yoongi made a choice.
He chose to care.
Yoongi was not going to give up and he was not going to let Jungkook give up either.
-
“Hey, Jungkook.”
“Hey, hyung.”
It was a quiet exchange. Jeon Jungkook straightened out the collar of his black dress shirt and stood up, brushing off his slacks. He paused before unbuttoning the first three, then frowned, and rebuttoned one.
“Need you to come with me.”
“For what, hyung?” He tried to sound as bright as he could, but it was all play-pretend.
“I made a hair appointment for you,” Yoongi replied, sliding his hand under the neckline of his white t-shirt and rubbing his collarbone. He didn’t look at him directly. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t need a hair appointment,” Jungkook chuckled, running a hand through his silvery-blond locks, slightly brassy now from the lack of care, but nothing some water couldn’t fix. No one would notice if he simply pushed it back and away from his face.
“I already paid for it.”
“W… what?”
Yoongi clicked his tongue, shrugging on his black hoodie. “Come on. My friend needed the cash. You like coloring your hair.”
“I only colored it because…” The sentence trailed off and Jungkook gave Yoongi a pained look.
The older male reached over and grabbed his wrist.
“You have to break the cycle,” Yoongi said softly, staring into his eyes. “I really need you with me. Please.”
Jungkook gazed at him helplessly, all dressed up and nowhere to go, because the places he wanted to go were destinations in his dreams, with her.
“Please, Jungkook.”
The grip on his wrist tightened, Yoongi’s dark brown eyes glistening. He turned his head away, but forced himself to look back, holding Jungkook in his resolute stare.
A stare full of thinly veiled pain.
“I can’t do this alone.”
And how, Jungkook remembered. All of his dreams had Yoongi in them too.
For a moment, he had forgotten that. For many nights and many days, he had forgotten Yoongi was always there, holding him up when he was falling down, being his eyes when the world was blurry, hiding his sadness so Jungkook could wallow in his.
He lifted his other hand and placed it over the pale one.
“Okay, hyung. Okay.”
-
“How you seen someone who looks like this?”
The kid took the picture from him, big eyes looking bigger in his round, bug-eyed lenses.
“Yeah. It’s the pretty noona.”
The kid handed it back.
“But I haven’t seen her in a while. I’m sorry.”
Jeon Jungkook smiled soothingly and patted the kid on the head. “It’s okay. I haven’t seen her in a while either. That’s why I’m asking.”
He stood up, tucking his now purple hair behind his ear. The kid looked up at him, mouth slightly open, in awe of Jungkook’s height. The kid was sporting a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it and blue pants that were a little too short for him, a colorful patch on the shin. Jungkook bowed pointedly to him even though he was only a young child. The kid continued to stare. He was about to turn around before the kid spoke up again.
“She seemed really sad.”
Jungkook paused.
“I used my allowance to buy her gummy bears. Did you know? She always buys gummy bears when she comes here.” The kid sniffed, rubbing the back of his nose as Jungkook looked down at him, the words stinging his heart. “But she seemed so sad. Like she was hurting deep inside, but trying to hide it.” He lifted his head, blunt bowl cut bouncing, dashing over to Jungkook and tugging on his jeans.
“Is she okay, hyung?”
The worst part was, Jungkook didn’t know.
The kid bit his lip, shaking the leg of his jeans, his mother behind the counter chastising him, saying not to touch the customers, but Jungkook held his hand up, crouching down. The kid looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. He did not feel brave inside, but he tried to show that he was brave on the outside, smiling warmly, placing a reassuring hand on the kid’s shoulder.
“I’m going to make sure she’s okay. I promise.”
Was he promising this random kid whose mom worked at the gas station?
Or was he promising himself?
-
“Hey, young man.”
Yoongi stopped at the stairs, keys between his knuckles.
He turned around.
A guy in a dirty khaki jacket and torn jeans with a swollen purple eye and a bruised cut on his lip. He was holding an empty bottle of soju and something else. A small, plastic package.
Yoongi’s eyes widened.
“I heard, uh… I heard you were asking around for someone,” the guy mumbled, looking sheepish and out-of-sorts. “I think… I think I’ve seen her so I wanted to catch you and let you know.” He swallowed, sniffing hard and shaking his head, the flaps of his coat opening, revealing the Doraemon tattoo on his chest and many more. All cartoon characters.
The guy held out the gummy bears.
Yoongi lifted his own, speechless as the package fell into his palm.
“She was here… last night? Or the day before.” The guy scooted around, rambling on despite Yoongi not replying, standing at a random spot halfway to the stairs and the parking lot. “Just standing here. Holding the candy and this soju here.” He raised the empty bottle, pointing at the windows of the apartment complex. “Think she wanted to… But she didn’t. She handed these to me and drove away. Asked me to keep them.”
The guy scratched his head. Then he pointed at Yoongi, nodding, more to himself than to him.
“I think she’s a little like me…” the guy was saying, slightly incoherent. “Said… said her and her momma don’t talk anymore. Me neither, you know… she gave me up as a baby before I could even say ‘go ahead, bitch’… heh… hehehe… man… sucks…” He rubbed his lips and sucked in a tight breath, flinching in pain as he touched his bruised lip. “Anyway, I put some feelers out for you.”
Yoongi swallowed, clutching the gummy bears tightly, the crinkle of plastic cutting into his skin.
“W… why?”
The guy looked awkward, shifting his eyes.
“Dunno… I just… people are important, you know?” He winced, jerking his head away. “No… no one wants to look for me, heh. Only for the drugs.”
He shoved his hand into his dirty tan coat and wrenched out a handful of tiny bags, all with colorful pills in them. After a brief moment, he jammed them back into his coat, frowning.
“Don’t want her to end up like me.”
The guy with the Doraemon tattoo raised his head, looking at Yoongi. Underneath his coat, ribs poked out straining against colorful, inked skin. His teeth were crooked, a little yellow, but he smiled anyway, shrugging. A small light inside him, despite his appearance.
“Not when someone’s looking out for her, you know?”
-
You ran.
Ran through the cars, stumbling, searching for yours, chest tight, black hood falling off, black hair suddenly free, wild and tangled around you, dark waves shimmering in the moonlight and streetlight, the only lights you saw these days.
“Noona…?”
A broken voice, once silvery and mischievous.
You turned, seeing violet.
-
“Um…”
You looked up from your head hanging between your legs. The girl beside you smiled, moving the red lollipop between her teeth. You were sitting on the stone steps of the porch. The party inside was dying, everyone falling asleep or falling unconsciousness.
“I don’t want to admit this, but… thanks.”
You wiped her lipstick off your mouth with the back of your head. “What?”
“Well, uh,” she continued sheepishly, her voice flitting between raspy and silvery, a strange mix. “I broke up with my boyfriend earlier this week. Not because he did anything… but I did.” She rubbed the back of her head, white lollipop stick moving between her now pink lips, the red having been kissed off. “And I was gonna get wasted and fuck some dude, but I found you instead.”
You gave her a weird look.
She nervously laughed. “I didn’t bring protection. On purpose.”
You blinked, slowly.
She popped the lollipop out of her lips, tapping it in the air. It glistened with saliva.
“I thought maybe if I had a kid, I’d have some purpose.” She breathed out, heavy. “Stupid, right? Fuck, that’s so fucking stupid.” She scoffed, shaking her head before raising it to look at you. “But I found you and I realized how stupid I almost was. And you’re a better kisser too. You actually paid attention to me when I said it was too rough or that I wanted more. People who come to these parties, they’re not like that normally, you know? Nobody cares here. Everybody seems to forget people are still people when they’re drunk or being stupid.”
Your lips parted.
“So… thanks. You helped me realize that. I could have made a really dumb mistake.”
She scooted closer to you, laying her head on your shoulder.
“I’m gonna sit with you a little longer, okay?”
You looked down at her and she smiled back at you, gently.
-
“Hey, hyung, Jungkook.”
Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung, standing in the gas station Jimin worked at, waving the two over.
“Are you two supposed to be hanging out while working?” Min Yoongi muttered, raising an eyebrow at Jimin. Taehyung slid off the stool behind the counter and walked around it, adjusting his olive-green beanie, wispy brown locks sticking out of the bottom.
The blond man shrugged. “Eh, the manager isn’t gonna know. I’m off in an hour anyway.”
Jeon Jungkook ignored the exchange, heading straight for Taehyung, his long, tied-back purple hair giving him a fierce look. “You said you heard something,” he said impatiently.
“Mhm, I asked some old friends, and, mind you, I haven’t talked to these dudes in ages because they’re kinda shitty. But it turns out some people are already keeping an eye out for her, so I guess everyone in the scene was on the lookout. She’s been, er… hanging out on the far, far side of the city.”
Taehyung grimaced, holding up his phone. Blurry pictures, but there was no mistaking who and doing what. Right out in the open, familiar positions. Jungkook grabbed Taehyung’s phone, flipping through them, brows furrowed, intently focused on the screen.
“She has an MO. No dudes. But… yeah.”
Jungkook handed him his phone back, lips pursed.
“You said you might know where she’s going to be next. Where.”
Not a question. A statement.
Taehyung exchanged a look with Jimin. Jimin’s eyes flitted to Yoongi, who gave him an unreadable expression, but there was an intensity there, as if he too was demanding an answer.
“Are you sure, guys?” Jimin asked, his light voice laced with worry. “You might get hurt.”
“Been there, done that.” Yoongi brushed off the comment dismissively, still pointedly staring at Taehyung.
“You sure she’s worth all this?” The concern obvious in the baritone, uncomfortable.
Taehyung frowned. “Neither of you have ever been able to commit to people before. She’s clearly moving on. And besides… two of you and one of her… that’s just–”
Jungkook’s hands flew out, grabbing the front of Taehyung’s shirt, shaking him furiously.
“Tell me where.”
Taehyung opened his mouth to protest, but then he caught the emotion trapped in his dark chocolate eyes, the barely-there waver in his silvery voice.
At any moment, it seemed like Jungkook was going to break down.
Taehyung’s gaze flickered to Yoongi, but the older man simply ticked his chin to Jungkook. Yoongi was better at hiding it or perhaps it was because he wasn’t as close. But there was something in the older man’s stance, heavily guarding the delicate heart inside, invisible strings holding him up, so thin they seemed ready to snap, but Yoongi was holding on, obviously seeing something Taehyung couldn’t.
“Alright,” Taehyung finally said. “Alright, I’ll give you guys the address. It’s at the far side of the city.”
-
Purple hair, flushed cheeks, a lost look in chocolate eyes that were fixed on you, pink lips parted, mole underneath trembling with unease. White t-shirt, black cargo pants, and thick-soled black boots. His tattooed right arm made him stand out, along with his violet-colored hair. He took a hesitant step forward.
Fingers outstretched, trying to touch you.
Your eyes widened and you turned to run, but a firm hand closed around your wrist, yanking you to a mop of black hair and a pale face.
“We didn’t come all the way over here to have you run from us again.”
The anger in his dark brown eyes made you freeze, accusing you.
“Y… Yoongi…”
His name felt foreign to your lips, not having said it in weeks. You tried to pull away but Min Yoongi held on, gritting his teeth. Black and navy bomber jacket, white shirt, and distressed black jeans. How could you have known then – that thisoutfit would be the one that started it all?
“Who… how…?”
Yoongi scoffed, clicking his tongue. “A kid and a dirty guy with a Doraemon tattoo. Jimin, Taehyung. And even then, it took forever to find you.” He shifted, sighing heavily, eyes flickering to the moon, still clutching your wrist, almost painfully. And you saw it.
Pain, glistening behind the gates of his cold demeanor.
All of a sudden, a hard body collided into you, Yoongi letting go, strong hands spinning you around, grip on your upper arms so tight it felt like your flesh was bruising, your head jerking up, eyes wide, looking up to purple hair.
And tears.
Streaming down those high cheekbones, tan skin and quivering lips.
“Why?”
His silvery voice cracked as Jeon Jungkook shook you, harsh sobs racking his chest, drowning in his tears, your name on his lips, still so sweet in his pain, heavy, wheezing breaths as he struggled to speak, barely croaking out the words.
“Why didn’t you want me?”
-
Why didn’t they want me?
A question you asked all the time. To the busy, overworked adults preparing your meals and scolding you to follow their routines, dividing their attention among the unwanted. Then to the others, the same as you, the tossed aside, the other mistakes and secrets, just as lost and confused. No one could ever answer you, because there was no answer other than, they just didn’t.
And then.
Him.
Everybody said, Min Yoongi was a bad boy. Min Yoongi was a playboy. Min Yoongi didn’t care about anything. And neither did you.
There was no.
Reason to take anything seriously.
You couldn’t. And neither could he.
It took a dreamer to pull you and Yoongi out of the endless night.
-
Jungkook pitched forward, crying into your chest, smelling like laundry, the sea, and bitterness, large, hiccupping sniffles, wiping his tears and snot on your hoodie, and, as if by robotic knowledge of proper social etiquette, your arms raised, about to encircle him, but Yoongi slapped your hands down.
“Don’t you daretry to comfort him if you don’t mean it,” he snarled, glaring at you from behind Jungkook’s hunched-over form. “You hurt him enough.”
You froze at his hostile tone, his slap stinging your skin and your heart.
Yoongi clicked his tongue, jaw clenched. “Me, fuck, I don’t fucking matter. But Jungkook? Shit. He’s a fucking mess without you, drinking every night, blacking out sometimes, throwing up liquor and barely eating.” His pale hand came up and ran through his black hair tensely, anger streaked in his expression, tainting his handsome face. He sucked in a deep breath before facing you again.
“I thought you and I weren’t a moment.”
Jungkook’s tears were soaking through the fabric of the hoodie, drenching the space above your left breast.
“I told you I only felt right when I was with you or him.”
The harshness in dark brown eyes faltered, his deep, raspy voice softening, laced with hurt.
“I still feel that way.”
He closed his eyes, pale cheeks coated in moonlight and streetlights.
“Even if I shouldn’t,” Yoongi whispered, almost inaudible.
-
You scoffed.
“I don’t need anything. Or anyone.”
The girl with the lollipop chuckled, nodding lightly. “Yeah, well, maybe someone needs you.”
You said nothing, looking out to the lawn where some idiot yanked open a car door and vomited on the grass. Another guy was leaning against a lamppost, looking out onto the road, staring at his phone, seemingly waiting to be picked up.
“Hard to know, though. You can’t tell you need someone until they’re gone.”
For a long, long moment, you listened to the sounds. The party, the loud music, the lively yelling, the muddled conversations, glass shattering, vicious swearing, messy kisses. The sound of breathing at your shoulder, steady, rhythmic, beside you.
At this moment, it occurred to you.
This was wrong.
And you remembered a sunset, sitting on the roof of an apartment building, looking over the urban jungle, two heads on your shoulders, a different world.
The right ones.
You lowered your head. All the other times, you were always silent. Alone, staring at the Han River.
But not this time.
“Don’t… don’t know what to do…” you shuddered, collecting your knees in your arms, shoving your face in between your limbs, wetness sliding down your cheeks. “I’m such… a fuckup… so… stupid…”
A stranger’s hand rubbing your back soothingly, her voice a mix of raspy and silvery.
“Don’t cry…”
-
You placed your hands on Jungkook’s arms.
Pulled him towards you.
“Don’t cry,” you murmured softly. “Please don’t cry, Jungkook.”
He pressed his face into your breasts, shoulders shaking, arms wrapping around your waist, holding you so tight that it seemed like he never wanted to let go, wet sobs trapped against your chest. You placed your lips to the top of his purple hair.
“I’m sorry I ran away,” you said softly, lifting your head, seeing Yoongi standing behind Jungkook, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, I… I couldn’t believe it. I was scared. Really scared of those words. And I didn’t know what they really meant, not until…”
You can’t tell you need someone until they’re gone.
“I didn’t understand what it meant to love.”
You looked down, seeing that beautiful face stained with tears, his skin blotchy and flushed. You reached between you and Jungkook to wipe his tears, your fingertips becoming soaked with the river of despair inside him.
“I couldn’t believe that you two were okay with it, this crazy arrangement.”
“I said I wanted it,” Yoongi muttered.
“That’s not the same, Yoongi,” you chuckled wryly, raising your head to look at him, holding Jungkook’s cheek, feeling his larger hand coming up to press your palm against his skin. Your gaze faltered, not really looking at the destroyed lawn of this party house, but somewhere else, in the depths, into the past that haunted you, the only world you thought existed, the one that constantly betrayed you and didn’t want you. “Like how I thought I grew up and changed, but I didn’t change at all.”
Silence except for Jungkook’s sniffling.
“Neither did we,” Yoongi snorted. “He’s went back to being a drunkard and I went back to sulking in the corners of these shitty parties, skirting free alcohol.”
You frowned, clutching the white t-shirt. “He’s not a drunkard.”
Jungkook laughed, moist and hoarse, wiping his nose on your hoodie. You made a face at him, slightly disgusted. Maybe you deserved it. He looked up, chocolate eyes glistening. Your breath caught in your throat, confused how someone like you could make someone like him feel this way. You carefully patted his eyes dry with your sleeve, dabbing at his wet lashes. His lower lip trembled and he leaned in, stopping just above your lips.
Fear.
Him and you.
“I want to know you want it too,” Jungkook shuddered, clearing his throat.
You looked back at him, lips parting, heart thudding in your chest, uncomfortable, oppressive, but this time, this time you didn’t run away.
Because this time, you knew how much it hurt.
You closed the distance.
“I want it. All of it.”
You kissed him, long and deep, your euphoria, your forever dream, and Jungkook kissed you back, desperate, hungry, grabbing your shoulders and kissing you again and again, wet, sloppy kisses, taking your breath away. Every kiss, every touch, familiar, right. Emotion flooded your ribcage, threatening to burst, but you had something to do, someone equally as important, so you placed your hand on his chest, stopping him, exhaling one word in his mouth.
“Yoongi.”
And Jungkook backed off, still sniffing, chewing on his lip and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, nodding in agreement, giving you the space. You faced him now, so used to running away that this felt strange, but you did it anyway, looking into his sharp, cat-like eyes.
Min Yoongi.
Stolen touches, mere moments, becoming bolder and bolder, until the ante was so high it was impossible to cross, and yet Yoongi had crossed it that fateful night when he asked you to take Jungkook’s virginity, and, without you knowing, without him knowing…
This, whatever thiswas between you and him, was no longer a moment.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m still pissed at you.”
You sucked in a breath. “Yeah, well, I do bad things.”
Yoongi curled his lip, narrowing his eyes. “You’re supposed to do them with me. You said you would. Or did you forget?”
You glanced down at the ground, then back up. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Yoongi clicked his tongue and exhaled hard. He looked away from you, but then abruptly jerked his head back, stepping forward, closing the distance, his hand coming up to circle around your head, long fingers burying themselves in your hair, glaring disapprovingly. He held you in place, forcing you to look into his dark brown orbs shadowed by black hair.
“Ah, shut up.”
And then he kissed you hard, brows furrowed, whispering into your lips, I’m sorry too, and you smiled helplessly, one of your hands resting on his waist, pulling him closer, your song, your never-ending moment, pine and leather and Yoongi, him saving you and you saving him, protecting each other from the nameless demons in your respective heads, although neither of you wanted to admit it. He ran his fingers through your hair, familiarity and comfort, letting out a puff of breath. He looked embarrassed, dark eyes shifting brusquely. His other hand touched your right, wrapping his fingers around yours.
“Let’s go home.”
Another took your left, squeezing it tightly. You looked up to see Jungkook’s still-red cheeks and sheepish smile. “You want to come home with us, noona?” he tried to tease, but it sounded more endearing than playful.
You raised an eyebrow, locking your fingers with theirs.
“Is it still called going home with you if I’m the one taking you there?”
-
epilogue:awake
You awoke to soft lips on yours. Tattooed fingers stroked your cheek, long strands brushing your forehead, silvery voice murmuring your name. You opened your eyes to black hair, cat-like, dark brown orbs looking at you under lowered lashes. His lips on yours, the scent of pine, his soft exhale of your name on your skin, making you shudder. Another pair of your lips pressed against your ear, his body hovering over yours and his.
“Yoongi.”
He smiled against your lips.
The bad boy that changed everything.
Your never-ending moment.
Four, eight, six.
“I love you,” you whispered softly, shivers running through you, the words foreign and alien, but you said them anyway, because they were the most special words in the world and you wanted to give them to Min Yoongi.
He chuckled, ears flushing pink, eyes shifting before focusing back on you, repeating it just as quietly, because he, too, wanted to give them to you, not written down, but from his mouth, giving voice to his heart.
“I love you.”
Why did it feel so nice, hearing those words in that raspy, deep voice? Why did it make your heart beat so fast? Why did it hold you and trap you, and why did you want to be trapped, trapped in this melody, these lyrics, this song, this never-ending moment?
Yoongi nudged you, indicating you to look to your left. You turned your head, looking up, seeing dark brown eyes, his purple locks brushing against your cheeks, the mole underneath his lower lip quivering. You reached up and touched his cheek gently, fitting your palm along his chiseled jaw, his own hand still cupping your cheek, naked body on top of yours.
“Jungkook.”
He leaned into your hand, smiling.
The wrong guy who turned out to be the right guy to pick up all along.
Your forever dream.
Four, eight, six.
“I love you,” you breathed, looking into those chocolate orbs, reminded of how much Jeon Jungkook liked you and how he always showed it. For him, you were always his dream and everyone knows that in your dreams, you don’t have to lie or hide. All this time, letting you see him like you, adore you, love you, avoiding the words because he didn’t want to hurt Yoongi, because he wanted his hyung to decide how this was going to go.
Jungkook always knew that Yoongi loved you, maybe even before Yoongi knew it himself.
Now, you finally said the words, giving him what he so very badly wanted to say, and now he could finally, finally say them back to you.
“I love you.”
He leaned down, a delicate kiss on your lips, smelling of laundry and the sea.
For a long, long time, you had wandered, small hands that became big ones, never having another to hold, living on artificial sweetness, missing a safe place, the place to go back to. But Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook changed that.
For you, they were what love really meant in this world.
summary: There are a lot of people in this world, good, bad, and those in between. And there was him, the man of excess, the man that made Min Yoongi think, society is stupid as shit for saying what I can and can’t do, and so Yoongi does what he wants and that’s getting his dick sucked by the Twitter user yourowndionysus, because he is, in fact, the “Best suck out there by far.”
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; important! male OC is pansexual and Yoongi is bisexual / pansexual; threesome smut (fem reader, the faintest D/s dynamics (male OC being the dom and the other two being sub), m-receiving oral with all the tongue (at one point, two mouths on one dick), fingering, handjob, reverse cowgirl, forced orgasms, m-masturbation, cum-eating / feeding); non-idol!BTS - blue-haired, music producer!Yoongi x male wiyllt x female friend!reader; Yoongi’s POV
–
“F…Fuck…”
Warm, wet, tight. He sucked in a shallow breath, staring into dark, dark eyes that seemed to be smirking at him even through those mauve lips were currently full and occupied.
“Show me,” he gasped out, not looking away, unafraid. “Show me your tongue.”
The tightness subsided and the pink tongue snaked out, flashing out around his hard length, the silver-ringed hands sliding down his tense thighs to hold his balls and bring them to that sinful mouth, licking all over, flicking expertly at the space between them before drawing a sloppy saliva-covered figure-eight on his nuts, making Min Yoongi hiss and tip his head back, feeling the head of his cock rub against the roof of the mouth of another man, a man currently giving him, once again, the best blowjob of his life.
“Fuck, yes, fuck, you’re so good…”
Yoongi didn’t give a shit about societal rules.
Society sucked ass and in the worst way possible. Who decided that they could dictate what and who he should be doing? That was some bullshit as far as Yoongi was concerned. He didn’t really like people anyway. He could like a person, but people? Nah, fuck that.
Yoongi would rather have a nap in his studio than go socializing with large groups of people.
He took him deep again and Yoongi bit his lip, his hand coming up and tangling his fingers in that black hair, pushing it back from its usual sweep on the left side of that face, breathing hard as he watched those eyes watching him, strong hands once again on his thighs, ringed fingers fanning out, every one decorated with silver except the left pinky, pressing in, leaving indentations of said rings. Yoongi clenched his jaw as he felt the head slide into that throat, tight pulses far too controlled to be involuntary, waves of pleasure shimmering through him, deft tongue still swiping along the underside, fuck, Yoongi still didn’t understand how he could take it so deep and still move his tongue while controlling his throat muscles, it made no fucking sense, no sense at all. It felt so, so good, such a perfect image before him, looking down at dark eyes and that face bobbing up and down between his legs, the three silver coin necklaces jingling with movement, offering music to this erotic display, hands poised on his thighs to spread them wide, even his shapely ass and that back– fuck, that toned back and that familiar tattoo.
Whatever god out there decided that such a man should be created was clearly having some cruel joke with the universe.
Yoongi couldn’t decide if it would have been better or worse if this guy had been born a woman.
Either way, he was screwed, now, then, and in every interaction they had.
“I like this.”
“Hm?”
The silver-ringed hand pointed to the monitor in his studio. “This track. I liked it a lot.”
“Oh.” Yoongi wasn’t sure what to say to that.
The hand lowered, accompanied by a low hum from mauve lips. “I think I might get a tattoo of the lyrics.”
His eyes widened. “You? A tattoo? I thought you said you would never get a tattoo. Too indecisive.”
That wide smirk greeted him, complete with one of those rare dimples indenting his cheek. They never seemed to show around anyone else but him. “Yeah, I did say that, but that was before you decided to sing to me.”
“I’m not singing to you,” Yoongi snorted.
The other male ignored his rudeness. “I think it would be better to have it in English though. Make people wonder what it means. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Hah…tch, do whatever you want.”
He did. The man who named himself yourowndionysus on Twitter always did whatever the fuck he wanted. That was one of the reasons Yoongi liked being around him. People… well, there were many types of people. Good, bad, and most stuck in between with some mix of the two. And this one…
“How about you live like that?”
Yoongi frowned, hearing his own words sung back to him. “What?”
The man grinned, turning around and tugging his black t-shirt up, up a slim, defined waist, up toned muscular back, making Yoongi’s eyes widen as the tattoo was revealed, under the left shoulder blade and lined up against the spine, six English words stacked on top of each other, plastic taped over the freshly inked tattoo. Yoongi’s English was garbage, but he could read it just fine.
“What if you live like that?”
The other man chuckled, lowering his shirt. “I could have directly translated it, but it wouldn’t really make sense without the context of the rest of the song and I’m not interested in being featured on one of those Engrish blogs like a poorly translated road sign, although they arehilarious…”
“Why?”
Those dark, dark eyes flickered to him. He was taller than Yoongi, around a hundred-and-eighty centimeters.
“Why what?”
“Why did you get it tattooed?”
They stared at each other.
Yoongi hadn’t missed the rare moment of rambling. It was very unlike him. Looking at his face now, there was absolutely nothing giving him away. Just a measured gaze, observing Yoongi closely, the neckline of the black t-shirt low, exposing prominent collarbones and three silver coin necklaces. Yoongi knew what kind of person he was.
The things he did.
Those dark, dark eyes waited.
Yoongi had met him by accident, in the middle of picking up a girl before she noticed someone behind him at the bar, her face twisting in fury as she grabbed her drink and bolted from Yoongi mid-conversation to throw her drink at a man in a black denim jacket, a man with long black hair, dark eyes, mauve lips and silver rings on every finger except the left pinky, swiftly jerking out of the way as she tossed her drink at him and yelled at the top of her lungs.
“You asshole, you never called me back!”
Sucks to be you, lady, he calls me back.
Yoongi leaned forward.
Something flickered in those dark eyes even though he didn’t back away. When he spoke, it was a soft, gentle whisper.
“I try not to fuck my friends, Yoongi.”
“That sucks.”
And Yoongi kissed him.
Yoongi didn’t give a shit about what society considered right or wrong. There were too many ways to judge a person. He wasn’t going to waste his time thinking about it. He didn’t like people, and he rarely liked a person in general. Even rarer that he wanted to kiss someone. Even rarer that it would be someone who got his lyrics tattooed to their body. And certainly not someone who was his accidental friend because of a chance meeting of, why didn’t you call her back, and, I don’t call back people who would throw a drink at me the second I appear and it was a one-night stand or at least I thought so, turning into, you sound like an asshole, then, I’ll buy you a drink and convince you otherwise.
Those mauve lips on his, stealing his breath, a silver-ringed hand cradling his cheek and Yoongi was convinced, although he had been convinced a long time ago that night at a bar.
And now that mouth was on him, his own fingers in that black hair, and Yoongi didn’t care about anything except how he felt and how he was making him feel, seeing it in those dark eyes with blown-out pupils, nails and rings digging into his thighs, leaving marks on him. He couldn’t help it, just couldn’t help his hips moving, thrusting lightly in between those soft mauve lips, moans falling from his mouth as that throat adjusted for him, letting him do what he wanted, meeting his movements, burying him deep in slick tightness, pulsating around the head every time he descended, speeding up, stealing his breath without a kiss, Yoongi’s head tipping back to the headboard, ash blue strands of his own hair sticking to his face, lost in that tongue and that mouth, knowing who it was and wanting to cum into his mouth because it was so, so good, the best, and he could not be told that this was wrong on the sole basis that said mouth happened belong to a man.
Yoongi was convinced he was the best and he would always be the best.
“A-ah… harder, oh, fuck, yes, fuuuuuuuck…”
The pressure in his core was unbearable and he moaned deeply, spilling into that mouth, forgetting to breathe for a moment as the overwhelming ecstasy took over, his fingers curling into that hair, black locks standing out against his fair skin, shudders overtaking him, closing his eyes and whining as that throat constricted, drinking his orgasm in deliberate, small gulps, letting him feel it drain from the head, shocks of pleasure and sensitivity heightened by his held breath, pushing himself to the limits of lust.
It was so good that Yoongi had completely forgotten about anything else around him.
“Oi, hey, I haven’t finished you yet–”
The warm mouth left his cock. Yoongi untangled his fingers and laid there, spent.
“Heh, I know. I was holding myself back.”
A click of the tongue and Yoongi opened his eyes to see the woman beneath his friend getting up and frowning. Someone he invited for this, previously sucking his dick as he sucked Yoongi’s. A close friend of the other male. “I hate that you can do that.”
“Youtaught me that.”
“Well, I hate that you learned.”
Thatsmirkon those mauve lips.
Yoongi would never be sick of it.
Before this, that smirk had ticked his head, looking down at him. “Can I invite a female friend of mine this time?”
He had raised his eyebrows. “Something wrong with only me?”
“Don’t be silly. She just has different equipment. Trust me, you’ll like her.”
He did.
Yoongi liked her very much, especially when she leaned down and wrapped her lips around his spent cock, fuck, clearly taught by someone very skilled, probably the one who also leaned down to nudge her slightly. She retreated, focusing only on the tip, and Yoongi gasped as he felt two tongues on him, one lapping at the sensitive head, saliva dripping all over the slit and the underside, the other on the rapidly hardening length, sliding down, taking one of his balls in his mouth, Yoongi shuddering at the sight of those long fingers with silver rings sneaking between soft thighs to find wetness, a whimper around the head of his cock as fingertips pressed against a slick clit, rubbing gently. Not to be bested, she reached between those powerful thighs, gripping that semi-hard cock, and began pumping it roughly.
Holy shit.
If he hadn’t just came, Yoongi was quite sure he would have blown his load at the sight alone.
A woman and man all over him, two tongues on his cock, wet and dripping, so much sensation, so much pleasure, watching them try to get each other off at the same time and she was losing, of course she was, her body shuddering at the swift, precise stimulation of her clit, hand stopping around that thick, hard cock, fuck, looked so fucking good in her hand, and she pulled back, gasping for air, clutching the sheets, viscous juices sliding down her shaking inner thighs, whining against Yoongi’s thigh as the other mouth closed in, taking both of Yoongi’s balls in his mouth now, what the fuck, both at once, tongue everywhere, stimulating him all over, his own cock smacking wetly against that cheekbone and black hair, dark, dark eyes smirking at him, witnessing his sinful ecstasy.
“You’re evil, fuck…”
Those mauve lips popped off his balls and grinned like the devil.
Yoongi did not and would not ever regret kissing this man.
The things that happened in that head of his? Yoongi never understood it, but he wanted it, waiting patiently as he rolled the condom down on Yoongi’s cock and positioned his female friend over him, reverse cowgirl – damn, she had a nice ass – his brief moment of admiration cut short as her tight, wet pussy sank down on him, clamping down his stiff length and his cock responded in kind, getting harder and harder, sinking into that vice, her voice shaking but still spitting sparks.
“This isn’t going to work, oh God…”
She leaned back, her back against Yoongi’s chest, and he pushed her further, wrapping his arms around that body and squeezing her tits – mmm, very soft, he approved – and then he saw what was going on, that smirk between her legs and his legs, nails digging into her thighs as that long tongue extended and slapped her clit wetly, lapping at it as she moaned, Yoongi instinctively pinching her nipples and turning her moans even more wanton, not even caring that his cock was only partway in because she was still so tight, her hands gripping her ankles to avoid squirming too much as her clit and nipples were assaulted, so Yoongi did the most logical thing he could think of.
He thrust his hips up.
“F-Fuck!”
He clenched his jaw and fucked her from below, a little awkward, a little erratic, but it didn’t matter, that smirk retreating, replaced by fingertips of a silver-ringed hand, rubbing fast and hard, crawling up to hover above their bodies, so clearly in control that he didn’t have to say anything at all, simply rose above them and forcing her to cum repeatedly on Yoongi’s cock by abusing her clit, making them both moan, Yoongi from the pulsating massage of her punishing orgasm and her from those fingertips on her most sensitive spot, the other hand coming up to cup her chin, leaning in sweetly, a long, almost chaste kiss if it wasn’t for Yoongi fucking her roughly from below at the same time.
The other male backed up, strings of saliva following, the breathless whine of the woman in his wake, irritation and desire in her voice.
“I hate you.”
That smirk returned, long tongue flickering between teeth. “No, you don’t.”
“I’m thinking about it, I swear.”
Yoongi started a little as the weight shifted on the bed, the hand between their legs leaving, and now the other male let Yoongi have more control, thrusting up from below and she rolled her hips into him to meet his movements, extending the stroke, making it better. Yoongi wasn’t surprised. She must be good if she was friends with him.
A shadow cast over his peripheral vision and Yoongi turned his head, freezing, suddenly face-to-face with dark, dark eyes and mauve lips swollen from use.
“I love seeing your face, Yoongi,” he murmured.
In those eyes, Yoongi knew he could feel however he wanted without shame.
“Kiss me.”
That mouth on his, soft and lovely and comforting, and Yoongi leaned into it, slowing down slightly, but she seemed to understand, riding him slowly as the kiss lasted, tongue sliding in, flickering between his lips, so soft, so gentle, making him want more, more, Yoongi furrowing his brows and gripping that plump ass on top of him and moving his hips again, trying to get more, but that mouth left him, drawing back with now shiny lips from his kiss. Yoongi clicked his tongue sharply, not bothering to hide his annoyance, but the other male simply smirked, messy black waves framing the left side of his face and leaving his undercut visible, his body rising.
“I like your blue hair. It’s such a nice shade of slate blue.”
He felt his neck heat. “Shut up.”
That wide smirk with that flash of dimple that only seemed to show around Yoongi.
“No, you.”
And he shoved his dick into Yoongi’s lips.
He sucked in a breath, wrapping his mouth around the long thick length, shivering as that ringed hand cradled his head and thrust a few times, not letting Yoongi have control by his tongue. He frowned around that girth, glaring up at him, but those dark eyes reflected only amusement, ruffling his hair.
His scalp tingled all the way down his spine and to his core.
“I just need a little wetness, thanks.”
You–
But before Yoongi could protest in any way, his pulled his cock out, saliva splattering on Yoongi’s chin as he backed up, Yoongi sputtering, you asshole, followed by a knowing laugh, yeah, he is, and now the other male was straddling both their bodies, one hand on the headboard and the other now wrapping around his cock, silver rings gleaming, the swollen red head peeking out between long fingers, covered with Yoongi’s spit and centimeters away from shaking tits.
“You wouldn’t,” she growled.
The three silver coin necklaces dangled down, jingling ominously.
“I would.”
Yoongi sucked in a breath as he watched that hand begin to move, stroking his cock over bouncing tits as Yoongi rolled his hips up into that tight pussy, the squelching sounds so wet that they were loud and audible, his spit on that cock, his cock fucking her hole, gaze shifting and finding dark orbs looking back down at him, holding his bed and fucking his hand, panting, and finally Yoongi saw the satisfaction on that face, pleased that he was orchestrating this, delighted that he had made him and his female friend orgasm before himself, something cruel yet powerful about the fact that his own orgasm would be from his own hand, hand covered in silver rings gripping tight, tight like the velvet walls around Yoongi’s cock moving in and out, out of that haunting gaze and staring back at that beautiful cock wrapped in long fingers and silver rings glistening with saliva, visibly twitching, closer, closer, closer.
“Fuck, oh fuck, Yoongi, you’re so good, fuck!”
Yoongi wished he could speak, but he could not, his helpless attempt ending in a choked gasp as his stiff length was brutally massaged and clenched by harsh tightness, sending him over the edge, tumbling with a hoarse groan as he spilled into the condom, his cock jerking and shuddering, shooting sparks of electric ecstasy through him and her, their moans in unison, depraved and lewd, and above them, a dark chuckle, smug, confident, overpowering.
“Heh.”
It was absolutely infuriating.
A sharp hiss and white strings shot all over her chest, streaking all over her tits, clinging to her skin, painting it with cum, directed between measured pants, his hand shoving the head onto her hard nipple and she whimpered, looking up at him with Yoongi as he pushed the sensitive nub around with the throbbing, slick, purple-red tip.
“Mmm,fuck, yes, so nice…”
Dark, dark eyes looked down at them, the man named Dionysus on Twitter reflecting his namesake with his toned, picturesque body poised over them like a god.
“You… are crazy…” she panted.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he is,” Yoongi agreed, chest tight, still trying to catch his breath.
He grinned.
“You two like it.”
The fingers of his left hand dipped down.
“Open your mouth.”
He didn’t specify who.
They both opened their mouths.
He covered his fingers with his own cum, the thick white liquid clinging onto his skin, silver rings glinting in the bedroom light, scooping it off her tits, and pushed them into her waiting mouth.
“Suck.”
She sucked his cum off his hand. Loud. Noisy. Swallowing.
After she finished, he pulled his fingers out with a sharp pop, gathering more, collecting his orgasm over her skin, her soft moans vibrating through Yoongi from her core, coating his fingers with it and raising his hand.
Yoongi’s mouth was still open.
The other male shoved his fingers and his cum into Yoongi’s lips.
He looked up into those dark orbs, seeing the pleasure he was giving, running his tongue over those fingertips, not needing to be ordered, already knowing, sucking it off those long digits, slipping his tongue in between them drinking the satisfying saltiness, staring into darkness full of excessive pleasure, and he knew he was safe, safe to do whatever and be whoever to those eyes, trusting probably a little too much, but he didn’t care, not at all.
Yoongi was going to live however he wanted and no one could stop him.
-
“I’m going to need a thousand-year nap, you asshole. Of course, you would find another perfect dick in this world. I can’t believe I agreed to this and I need a shower, jeez.”
“See you next time,” was the smirk’s response.
She looked furious as she slammed Yoongi’s front door shut.
“Nice friend.”
“She’s very nice. I like her a lot.”
Sometimes Yoongi would look at that back tattoo and then he would catch him watching, small smile on those mauve lips. He never said anything though. He just looked at it and the other male watched Yoongi, smiling at him. Those rare dimples sometimes appeared, but only with Yoongi. There were a lot of people in this world, good, bad, and in between, and there was him, the man named Dionysus on Twitter, just a person.
Just a person.
Just a person Yoongi admired because he lived how he wanted, inspiring Yoongi that he, too, could live how he wanted, so he did and spent these moments with that smirk and those silver rings.
summary: Min Yoongi will always be the one. The one on top, the one above all others, the one who has a space in your heart. Sometimes, Yoongi questions it. You have to remind him that no one commands you like he can, and he reminds you that no one can take you from him.
yes, I have been planning this ever since I released ‘headspace’. happy birthday Yoongi! <3 I would have pretty words for you, but I literally write smut about you, so how about you notpractice your English here because I know you’re secretly fluent. I’ll give you the ‘I-love-you’ speech some other time XD
–
“I’m here.”
You felt his fingers trail down your exposed arms, drumming down your skin. He took your hands, tracing your silver rings, humming satisfyingly. A familiar view, a fair skinned wrist with silver chain bracelets. He curled his long fingers around yours, caressing the inside of them. You could smell his cologne, scarcely sweet and musky woods, just a hint here and there, wisps that seemed almost imaginary.
“To remind you that you’re mine.”
His grip tightened around your wrists.
A swift pull, spinning you around in your computer chair, tearing you away from the keyboard. Fluffed black hair, brushing against dark brown, cat-like eyes. A pensive smile and two silver hoops on each ear. All black, turtleneck, leather jacket, slacks. Your favorite.
Your shadow.
Min Yoongi.
“I… I can explain.”
The smile turned into a smirk.
“No need.”
He intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing them, unforgiving metal of the rings digging into both your hands. Leaned down, pushing your rolling chair into your desk so it stopped, husky voice against your chin. He stroked one of your silver rings, spinning it around your index finger.
“Yoongi…”
He purred your name, drawing it out syllable by syllable, letting it slowly assault your ears. Your skin tingled as he pulled you up, your loose black t-shirt too thin, feeling far too much as he tugged you to him, his inescapable gravity and wicked smirk.
“You smell different today,” he murmured, your bare legs brushing against his slacks.
You did smell different. Like burning wood and roasted sweet chestnuts, a new scent you found that instantly attracted you. That’s how you were. You encountered things and you immediately loved them, intensely, addictively, forever.
Just like Min Yoongi.
“Mmm.”
His hand traveled under the hem of your shirt, grabbing your thigh and sinking his fingers into it with a soft hiss. You bit your lip, closing your eyes, falling into the touch, letting it consume you. There were not a lot of things that could make you give in, but you believed in your instincts and trusted them. Your instincts always told you where to go, what to do, who to go to. With one glance, you could pinpoint if you would like something or not, even in unfamiliar territory. Your instincts always guided you to your loves. The things you loved always became significant, always changed your life, always had your devotion through time, space, and dreams.
They became obsessions and they never stopped.
Yoongi buried his face into your neck and inhaled, moaning softly.
“Smells so good. Warm. Like a comforting memory,” he mumbled.
“Reminded me of you.”
And it had. The second you smelled it; memories of his embrace had blanketed around you.
He lifted his head and his eyes were on yours. Half-lidded, plagued by dark circles, the loveliest black-brown in the whole world. You normally hated eye contact, but not in this space, not with him. Your hands slid under his leather jacket, wrapping around his waist. Yoongi leaned in, kissing you once more, pressing your body to his, leather and softness. He reached into his jacket and possessively tucked one of your hands in his.
“Sometimes,” he muttered against your lips. “Sometimes I think I don’t have your love.” His fingers caressed yours as you kneaded his waist underneath the turtleneck. “Do you not want me around anymore?”
A small smile drifted onto your lips. You reached up with your free hand and tugged the collar of your t-shirt down, revealing your silver necklaces.
“You’re always with me.”
Yoongi’s dark eyes traveled down your neck, to the first one, seeing the tiny circular overlapping pendants. His name etched in the lower one, his birthstone set in the upper one. A tiny, contented smile. The others were a tangle of chains and charms, but Yoongi was the one who mattered most, so he was on top.
Always on top.
“What if you lose that?” he teased.
You chuckled. “So what? I could lose everything I own, but I would still love you, Yoongi.” You placed your forehead against his. “My head could be full of someone else, but there is always a space in my heart for you.”
The things you loved.
They are always and forever.
He raised his hand and placed a single fingertip in between your collarbones. Your spine tingled, scalp prickling as he slid it up your neck, lips parting as he watched it travel over your skin, up your chin and onto your plush lips, nail snagging on the softness.
“Such lovely words, but this mouth can do such dirty things,” Yoongi breathed, the side of his curving upwards playfully. You quirked your eyebrow and opened your mouth, licking the tip of his finger with your tongue, smiling around it.
“I can have pure feelings and a filthy mind.”
Yoongi cocked his brow to match yours, smirk widening to reveal his white teeth. “And you certainly do. I have no idea how your mind works.”
And then before you could respond, Yoongi shoved two fingers into your mouth, rubbing them against your tongue. You chuckled, wrapping your lips around them, sucking daintily, tongue swirling, slipping between them, drawing figure-eights. His eyes on you, darkening, darkening, the sparks of desire stroked to black flame, burning intensely as you placed the tip of your tongue all the way down to the skin where his two fingers connected, down to his knuckles, his fingers almost down your throat.
“You have such a tiny mouth,” he purred. “Astounded that my cock can fit in there.”
Yoongi pulled his fingers out and you gasped, strings of saliva dripping down and snapping against your chin. There was something about his expression, not trying to trick you, not trying to seduce you, simply aware of what he was going to do and that he was going to do it. There was no one to stop him.
In fact, you patiently awaited it.
His free hand closed on the hem of your pajama shirt and slipped under, pushing your panties to one side and shoving his wet fingers into your pussy.
“Ah, Y-Yoongi!”
He smiled, sliding his fingers in and out, and you raised one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, one hand on his shoulder, moaning as he rubbed the inside of your walls, feeling all of you, watching your face the entire time, your pussy throbbing at the knowledge of being observed so intently. His other hand snuck up your back, drawing patterns on the thin black fabric, hardly a barrier from his touch, and then he traveled further up, running his fingers through your hair, tangling them at the base and yanking back, neck exposed, your moans deepening, saturated with lust, the pace of his fingers inside you increasing. You clenched around them, breath hitching at the pricks of pain, viscous juices soaking his hand and coating his knuckles. Yoongi leaned forward, inhaling your scent once more.
“Cum for me,” he purred, teeth on your neck, nipping lightly, pinches of red marks.
Pulling a little harder, thrusting a little deeper, sucking on the space in between your collarbones, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, whimpering as the sensitive skin was bitten and the insides of your walls roughly rubbed, grinding into his hand to stimulate your clit and it was too hot, too much, pushing you over the edge.
“Oh, fuck, Yoongi…”
Pussy clamping around his digits, pulsating violently, your juices sliding down the back of his hand and his palm, covering him with you. A short reprieve, Yoongi letting you ride the high, sighing in satisfaction as he felt your walls shiver with the aftershocks. His other hand released your hair and you panted hard, tipping your head back up, only to be forced to raise your arms as Yoongi yanked your shirt up. You pulled it over your head, shaking your hair out, now wild and messy. He snapped a finger on your black bra strap, impatient expression telling you to take it off. You undid it with one hand and, as soon was it fell to the floor, Yoongi ripped his fingers out of you. You yelped at the suddenness, abruptly turning into a moan as Yoongi took his slick fingers covered in your cum and smeared them over your breasts, circling around your hard nipples, pinching them in between his slippery touch.
“Fuck, I love these nipples,” Yoongi muttered, dipping his head down to your chest, breathing in the scent of your orgasm. “So fucking big and soft and hard, all at once.”
He wrapped his lips around one and sucked off your juices with a moan, cleaning up his mess by licking all over your breasts. He placed his two wet fingers around the other, pinching and tugging on it, trailing his tongue up and down, up and down, matching pace, drenching your skin with his saliva before collecting it all back up and circling the sensitive hardened nub with the wetness, flicking his tongue against it, gentle, intense, continuous, until you were shaking and shivering against him.
Your hands came up and held his head, pushing back his black hair, moaning as you ran your fingers through it, over and over, his large hands pressing your tits together and playing on your nipples with his lips and fingers, sucking hard.
There were a lot of words in this world and none of them could describe exactly how Yoongi made you feel, like he could set everything on fire while also being the water rushing through you, burning and drowning, his brown orbs looking up at you, silent, but clear with his lust, reflecting you in his eyes.
A mirror, so akin to you.
And yet not, because he was Min Yoongi.
His other hand fitted in the curve of your back, forcing you to arch more, trailing his tongue over your chest, humming at your soft cries.
“You always look so good no matter what I’m doing to you,” he mused, lazily licking off your other nipple.
“It’s because you’re the one doing it,” you panted, shivering as he blew on your wet skin.
“Hm, I don’t think so. I think you’re just hot as hell.”
He kissed up your chest, on your lips once more, sighing softly, your sharp sweet taste on his lips, both hands on your breasts, pinching your nipples with his knuckles. You whined into his mouth, and he shushed you with rough kisses as he rubbed them just as roughly, pain and pleasure, working you until you were breathless, gasping, pleading for more. He chuckled, releasing them, earning a frantic whimper, his mouth still pressed to yours. You heard him shrug off the leather jacket, dumping it on the chair. Nudging you forward to the bed, staying in stride with you, and you, grip on his turtleneck, yanking it out of his slacks, his smirk against your smirk.
“What if,” Yoongi murmured, hands enveloping yours, tracing your silver rings. “One of my rings was here?” Tapping your left ring finger, mischievous spark underneath his lashes.
“Do I get to put one here?” you teased, sliding one between his and wrapping it around his left ring finger.
“Ah, they should match, shouldn’t they?”
You grinned, tumbling onto the bed and dragging him with you, Yoongi quirking an eyebrow, tone rich and deep as he continued.
“You like white gold or platinum?”
You tugged his turtleneck up and off his head, letting it fall to the floor, running a hand through his fluffed black hair as you mused.
“I’ll let you pick,” you purred. “And then I can pick one.”
“For where?”
“For here.”
Yoongi sucked in a breath, narrowing his eyes and mouth at you, cheeks puffing a little, but there was no mistaking the amusement in his words.
“At least service him before you start putting him in prison.”
You unlatched your grip on his clothed cock.
“What am I, but of service?"
He watched your tongue trace your lips as you slid down, unbuttoning his slacks, zipper being teased down, a pleased smile growing as his clothes were tugged off, crumpling to the floor.
"Let me help you,” Yoongi drawled as you lowered your head, calm hands gathering your hair to a long ponytail, winding it around his palm before turning his hand around, fitting his hold to the back of your head. You raised an eyebrow at his smirk.
“It’s going to be like that?”
His eyes darkened, black hair falling over them.
“You love it like that.”
That’s true. Familiar words came back to you, almost like a mantra.
What if you live like that?
Tongue sliding out, licking him all over, dripping saliva down his length, his cock already hard and insistent against your lips, hot and trembling, pleading for attention, but you nuzzled past, wrapping your lips around one of his balls and swirling your tongue around it, listening to his deep moan, smokey and raspy, your name mixed with his sounds of appreciation, hand firm on the back of your head. You switched sides, back and forth, sucking one as you licked the other, accompanied by loud slurps that made Yoongi’s hips jerk, euphoric gasps filling your room.
“Fuck, that’s a dangerous mouth…” he hissed. “You could make anyone fall for you with your mouth alone.”
You snaked your tongue along his stiff length, side to side, tracing the contours with your wet muscle, finally coating the tip with a thick layer of warmth, seeing Yoongi watch you with hunger, his long fingers pressed into your scalp.
“Down,” he growled.
You obeyed.
Swallowing it all, all the way to the base, his cock twitching in your mouth. Yoongi gasped sharply, holding you down, your throat constricting around the head, barely able to breathe, but you were in Yoongi’s hands now.
Your favorite pair of hands to command you.
“Fuck…fuck…”
He tilted his hips and you fell on your side, silver necklaces jangling, steadying yourself with your elbow. Slow but forceful, sliding out and pushing back in, moaning softly as he fucked your face, your hands in his sides, nails digging in, whining around his thickness, pushing your tongue against the bottom to make it tighter, better, his strong taste coating your mouth, so good your mind was a bit hazy from it or was it the intensity of his thrusts that was leaving you breathless?
You tensed your throat muscles and Yoongi chuckled, breathing hard.
“You sure you haven’t practiced on someone else? You’re too good at this, fuck…”
It was impossible to reply, think, or breathe, clawing at his back, rocking your body with his, your own power intoxicating you, knowing Yoongi was close to his end by the increased speed and roughness, grip on your head unforgiving, bouncing you back and forth with the force of his hips, your wet lips smacking his balls and crotch, the head repeatedly burying itself in your throat, stretching it out just like how Yoongi would stretch you out soon.
“Fuck, I know you love it when I use your mouth like this,” he snarled.
I do. I love all the things you do to me.
He clenched his jaw and a grating hiss fell from his lips, thrusting deep and spilling down your throat, you whimpering as you swallowed hurriedly, hands splayed over his back and ass, holding him there so you could drink it all, tongue pressed along his length to feel his cock throb with every spurt of cum painted down your throat. There was no time to think about breathing, completely dazed by his strong taste and the forced manner that you had to consume his orgasm, visceral and obscene.
“Time for your other hole.”
You drew back, gasping for air, hair cascading around you as Yoongi let go, taking advantage of your hazy state clawing for oxygen. You barely registered him pushing you down to the sheets, hands and knees, ass up and ready, his own hands on your hips to peel your wet pussy lips apart, watching your glistening opening flexing, the reaction both your muscles and your desire.
Waiting for him.
Wanting him.
“Mmm, my pretty pussy,” he purred possessively.
Your body already knew what to do even if your mind was still trying to catch up. He took the condom from your shaking, outstretched hand and ripped it open. You didn’t have to wait long. He leaned forward. The swollen, hot head pressed against your opening. Not moving, chest against your back.
“Yoongi,please…” you gasped hoarsely.
“Please what?”
This fucking tease. “Please… fuckme.”
His hand crawled up the sheets, deft fingers dancing, up your wrist, and onto your hand, your silver rings glinting in the low light. He placed his fingers in between yours, lips against your ear.
“My perfect plaything, aren’t you?”
A swift thrust and you were moaning, fingers closing in around his, suddenly so full and so deep that you saw white for a brief moment, but there was no time, no time as Yoongi slid back and slammed into you again, crotch to ass, untangling his hand from yours so he could right himself and fuck you hard, just the way you liked, just the way you needed.
“Mmm, what a beautiful back.”
You buried your face into the pillows, his fingernails scraping down your skin, sending shocks and stings all over you, helpless cries at his wonderful scratches, the exact pressure so that he left marks all over you but didn’t break skin, so good paired with his harsh thrusts, making you claw for the headboard, planting your hands on it and bucking back into his hard length, heightening the pleasure and mixing it with pain, Yoongi’s satisfied grunts behind you, necklaces jingling on your chest. Sensation, sound, emotion, all of it, building up inside, winding the coil, tighter, tighter.
Nothing else mattering but being fucked by Yoongi’s cock.
“This body is for me, isn’t it?” Yoongi growled, racking his nails down your back.
“Whenever you want, fuck, oh fuck, Yoongi!”
He kept going, the fire of your orgasm burning hot, crashing waves threatening to take you under, but still he gripped your hips and fucked you into the bed, the bed frame squeaks drowned out by the loud squelches of his rock-hard cock reentering you over and over again.
“That’s what I thought,” he snickered, leaning down and earning a wail, so deep it felt like he was hitting your cervix, the head swelling as your walls clenched around him. “No one can take you from me, isn’t that right?”
You responded automatically, your body once again responding quicker than your brain could, the answer always there, lingering in your mind, unwavering, pure instinct.
“No one.”
The words rushing out with ravenous conviction, nails curling into the headboard, so much forced pleasure, savoring in Yoongi’s roughness, pussy pulsating so strongly that you weren’t sure what was an orgasm and what wasn’t. All over you, through you, in you, clouding your mind and thoughts. Absolute precision, knowing exactly how to fill you, and you clenching him back, molding to him to deliver the pleasure he loved, primal needs being satisfied, everything feeling so good that you became lightheaded, and yet you still found yourself uttering between moans and gasps, declaration being ripped from you because of Yoongi’s perfect cock destroying you mentally and physically.
“It will always be you above all others, Yoongi.”
His fingers wrapped in your hair and yanked back, the sudden pain making you scream his name, liquid gushing down his cock and balls, thick and viscous, sticking to both your inner thighs. Your name falling from his lips, a half-moan, half-hiss, his entire length jolting inside you, filling the condom, and Yoongi rolled his hips into you once more, feeling it all, every contour of your pussy constricting around his throbbing cock.
“Fuck…”
Two voices that sounded like one, rough, grating, instinctive, matching in time. Sparks coursing through your veins, body shivering with the aftereffects, squeezing the remnants out of him. His hand reached around; strands still tangled in his fingers.
Yoongi cupped your chin roughly, caressing your skin.
“Above all others, hm?” he breathed, the depth of his voice soothing your thudding heart. Both of you sinking down into the bed, knees giving out, and he was still inside you, gripped tight by your stubbornness, his arms around your shaking body. You closed your eyes, Min Yoongi surrounding you, invading your space with his possessive embrace, his unavoidable presence, his inescapable hold, and you, a willing captive, letting him take over.
His lips against your ear, a familiar purr, your always and forever whisper.
who said people are animals of wisdom? for me, obviously, we are animals of regret people change, just as I’ve changed there is nothing permanent in the world everything is just a happening passing through
My blog is named after ‘People’ by Agust D, the only song that I’ve ever felt every word and every line, rapped and sang with that exact pitch and emotion, describe me. I’ve always wondered, these thoughts I have, will anyone ever be able to put them into words?
summary:Some things that are normal for most aren’t normal for you and Yoongi. He moved in and sleeps in the same bed with you, but still all you do is hold hands and kiss gently. Everyone has their own pace. Not everyone lives in the fast lane. There’s just… this nagging feeling. You have to be honest.
warnings: rated M (18+) - mentions of a previous physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; smut (penetrative sex); there’s so much fluff you might die; also RIP to their heads XD; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader
rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.
You retreated your hand from the tuft of hair sticking out of Yoongi’s black cap. He turned around and raised his eyebrows at you. You ended up apologizing before actually doing anything or even touching the little black tail in the opening of his hat. He adjusted the brim and gave you a weird look.
“Something wrong?” he asked, tilting his head.
“No, uh… I…” You struggled to find the words. “I almost touched you. I wasn’t sure if you were okay with that.”
Yoongi smiled a little. “It’s okay. I know you’re there. And I know it’s you.”
He was sitting right next to you at your computer in your bedroom. You had set up a station for him, the two of you in the corner, occupying two computers ninety degrees from each other. All you had to do was turn to the right and he was there. He turned to the left and you were there. It was kind of cramped and not ideal, but it had to do for now. Yoongi worked on music at home. Some things Yoongi could only do at the studio, but some things he could do at home. You found him a decent computer and some hand-me-down equipment and it was good enough.
Actually…
It was miles better than it was before. He was surprised when you asked him if he wanted to work on his music at home. It wasn’t permitted in Yoongi’s previous relationship. But you saw he lamented sometimes, recording demos on his phone and wishing he had some sort of setup to do some things. You didn’t understand the technical aspects, but it couldn’t hurt to ask, right? It had become a fun project and now Yoongi was sitting beside you.
Yoongi spied the images on your monitor. "What are you looking at?“
You turned back. "Apartments. I’m just trying to see if there’s something bigger, so you can have your own music studio at home.”
He bit his lip. “I can’t afford that right now.”
You understood that Yoongi often mentioned money because it was a topic of arguments with his ex-girlfriend. You hadn’t gone into this expecting Yoongi to be rich. In any case, it was better for him to invest in his music. You had already told him this, but habits take time to be broken. Thankfully, your work paid well even though it was mostly clerical duties. There were perks to having worked at the same company for a long time.
“It’s okay. I want a bigger space too."
"You mean you want your dance studio back?” he teased.
You felt your ears heat. “I can use the living room… anyway, I want you to be able to work in peace. I haven’t seen anything good though.”
“Mmm, well, this kind of thing takes time and luck.”
You turned your head to look at him and found his face next to your shoulder. A handsome profile. His eyes shifted to look at you. Something flitted in those dark brown eyes. The nagging feeling came back, tapping inside your ribcage, rattling impatiently. You looked away, back at your computer screen.
Yoongi said your name softly.
“Is something wrong?” His voice wavered. “Did I do something?”
“No, Yoongi,” you replied, still not looking at him. The frustration inside expanded. You knew you had to communicate. You couldn’t not. If you avoided it any longer, you would be growing the seeds of doubt and you wanted Yoongi to trust you. To do that, you needed to be honest.
“I’m horny.”
Silence.
“What?”
You jerked a little in your seat, moving away from Yoongi before raising your head to make eye contact. Your chest felt tight, ashamed, even though it wasn’t supposed to be embarrassing.
“I’m horny,” you repeated, rubbing your fist on your thigh. “I don’t want to pressure you because I know that topic might be delicate. I just…” You kept looking at those wide cat-like eyes and then looking away, heart beating fast and heat building faster. “I find that I can’t really look at you that long without thinking about it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Silence. You felt your stomach knot.
“I don’t remember the last time I had sex,” Yoongi murmured. “I don’t remember the last time I wanted it.”
Ah. Right. That would make sense. Of course, that’s how he felt. Also, you weren’t exactly sexy. The octopus dancing didn’t really get the guys, so to speak. You could handle yourself. It was fine. He was just so… You wanted Yoongi to feel good with your touch, wanted his heart to flutter the way yours fluttered, wanted to see him breathless with want.
There was a weight on your thigh.
You started, looking down, breath at your throat. You were wearing loose gray shorts and the matching sweatshirt. Not a sexy outfit to get your freak on. But you were staring at Yoongi’s hand, kneading the fabric and your leg underneath and the heat was rising, heart racing.
“I think I need a reminder…” he murmured. “A reminder on how good it feels to be loved like that.”
Yoongi lifted his head and you stared into his eyes.
He leaned forward and closed the distance, kissing you softly, and you breathed him in, fitting your hand over his, guiding it up, gentle touches, turning in your chair to face him, and he was turning to you, holding you close, your hands skimming over his t-shirt, not trying to get more, just wanting to show your want, just demonstrating how you would run your hands over his skin if there was no barrier, and he stood up, making you stand up.
And then your heads banged together.
“Ow!”
“Motherfuc–”
You swore and Yoongi clamped a hand over your mouth, rubbing his forehead and shaking his head.
“Don’t ruin this,” he winced, removing his hand.
“My brain feels rearranged,” was your woozy response, cursing the narrow space.
Yoongi took your hand and pulled you away from the computers, towards to the bed, the same bed you two slept on, but didn’t touch, not like this. You only held hands or kissed gently. Late at night, when Yoongi was fast asleep, you would stare at his profile and wonder if he felt the same passion you felt, but it was weird to watch him sleeping, so you looked away and stared at the ceiling instead, thinking about him and his body against yours.
And now it was, his arms around you, pressing you to his chest, kissing your lips, cheeks, closed eyelids, making you laugh a little. Your fingertips on his back, tracing patterns, his gasp against your skin, cap falling off and tumbling to the floor, his black hair brushing your forehead.
“T-Touch me more…” he murmured.
He took your forearms and pushed them down, sliding your hands under his white shirt and then it was skin on skin, a needy noise between you two. With burning ears, you realized that was you, Yoongi’s hands on your shoulders as you explored his back, fingertips dancing up his spine, his pants in your ear, and then his fingers in your hair, messing it all up, rolling his body into yours.
Hardness.
You gasped, raising your thigh to press against it, and his hands slid down, and you looked up to see his half-lidded eyes hazy with desire.
“I want to follow your lead, Yoongi,” you breathed. “Any time you want to stop, we can stop.”
He nodded, leaning down to kiss you, deeper this time, tongue sliding in and playing with yours, your hands exploring the contours of his back. His skin, so soft, so lovely, smelling the vanilla and patchouli body wash you used because you shared the same shower and he used all your products. You shared so much with him, but there were some things you couldn’t share. Not yet. Not until he gave you his sign that he was ready.
You never told Yoongi, I love you.
The most precious words used in this world, turned to a poison dagger to hurt him, so you never said it, not until he was ready to hear it, not until he wanted to hear it. You knew Yoongi knew. You would hold his hand, draw a heart in his palm, small things like that, and he knew. He’d squeeze your fingers and smile a little smile and that was enough.
Maybe you were tiptoeing too much, but it was impossible to tell, because everyone is different and not even Yoongi himself knew what trivial actions or words would bring back unpleasant memories. He had spent so long repressing them that it was hard to tell reality from fantasy. He didn’t know what to be afraid of because he tried so hard to make them disappear.
You drew a small heart on Yoongi’s shoulder blade and he gasped, pulling you closer.
“I… like when you do that…” he mumbled, sounding a little embarrassed.
“Draw hearts?” you questioned, tilting your head.
“Yeah… on my skin…”
And then Yoongi surprised you.
He backed up a little and pulled his shirt over his head, taking your hands and placing them on his chest, not saying anything, but you could see it in his eyes, I don’t look very good, and you pressed your fingertips to his chest, over his beating heart, looking up at him.
“You will always be perfect to me, Yoongi.”
He gave you a wistful smile, believing you and not at the same time. “You have weird taste.”
You drew a small heart over his, feeling him shiver at your touch. You grinned brightly. “That’s how you know I’m devoted.”
He chuckled, closing one eye, looking sheepish. You waited, letting him work through the emotion, trying not to put himself down, taking it for what it was. It was not an easy thing to do. You had to be patient. Yoongi took your hand and pulled you to the bed, a familiar environment.
“I want to make you feel good,” he said.
“You don’t–”
“I want to,” Yoongi reaffirmed, looking you in the eye, determination in his tone. “I want my hard work to be the reason you feel good.”
You shouldn’t say it. Well, maybe it will lighten the mood. You struggled internally and then leaned forward, placing the back of your hand near your mouth.
“Hard work is a weird way to refer to your dick,” you whispered closely.
Yoongi burst out laughing, gums flashing, raspy and full, shoving you onto the bed. You bounced, hands flapping about, grinning at you own joke as Yoongi grabbed the bottom of your sweatshirt, yanking it up and over your head.
“This and your bad habit of moving your head at the same time as me–”
“It means we’re in sync!”
“I don’t want a concussion every time we make out,” Yoongi shot back, pinning your arms down and hovering over you, exasperated smile on his face.
He was so close.
Your grin slowly deflated, realizing that he was shirtless and you were shirtless, and Yoongi had you pinned down, gazing down at you with dark eyes and that open-mouthed smirk that was also disappearing, realizing he was on top of you, realizing this wasn’t innocent, realizing he was about to do something that should be normal but was made abnormal to him.
“You don’t have to do it,” you said gently.
“I know.” He looked at you under his black hair, messy and flat from being under the hat, brown eyes and pink lips standing out on his fair-skinned face. “But I want to.”
You always thought that parts of life were boring. It would be easier to fast forward and skip it.
But not with Yoongi.
He leaned down and kissed you, a kiss that you wanted to pause and live in forever, him inhaling you, pressing deeply, hands releasing your arms and cradling your head, his kisses like stars, precious light that brightened your whole world. But you also wanted to press play, kissing him back, your hands caressing his sides, drawing small hearts on his skin, your own heart swelling with the electricity of touching the one you loved, not knowing until now how nice it was, the simple sensation of dancing your fingers up his back and back down, his gasps on your skin, kissing down, down the curve of your neck and the swell of your breasts, so focused that his eyes were screwed shut and his brows were furrowed.
“Yoongi…”
His eyes opened slowly and Yoongi looked up at you with shaking pupils. Scared he was going to fuck up.
“It’s just me. You know, the one who dances like an octopus.”
His expression seemed to relax, turning into ruefulness. “How could I forget?”
“Should I wiggle a bit to jog your memory?” you teased.
“Please don’t.”
Your remark seemed to have calmed him, returning to your breasts, slipping the straps down, kissing along the curve of the cup, slipping his tongue under experimentally to make you jump, heart racing once more, a small smirk on his lips as he reached behind you and unhooked it, releasing them from their prison.
“O-oh!”
You yelped when Yoongi pulled your bra down, kissing your nipple directly, tingles flaring from the kiss, leaving you breathless as his tongue danced out, licking gracefully, slow circles that made you clench your jaw and tighten your core to avoid arching your back to get more. Yoongi seemed to sense your urgency and added more pressure, closing his lips around it, and your hands flew up, holding his head as carefully as possible but holy shit, holy shit, Yoongi’s tongue on you was pure ecstasy and he was doing it for you, showing his love for you and that’s why it felt so good, that’s why it was so fucking nice.
“Ah, fuck, Yoongi…”
He kissed to the other side, murmuring your name against your skin, seeped with desire and affection, pushing your wet nipple with one finger as he kissed the other, two points of pleasure that flowed through you, your gasps turning to moans, his hands coming up and encircling yours, lacing your fingers with his and holding them, whispering, faint, nearly silent, vibrating your sensitive skin with his lips and breath.
And then you heard it.
His whisper right above your heart and you looked down, Yoongi’s eyes looking up at you.
Apologetic for taking so long.
“I love you.”
If someone paused the tape right now, took it out, and your life ended right there, you would be okay with that. If that was the last moment in this world, if that was all that was and time stopped, you would be content.
But it wasn’t.
Play.
You smiled down at him, trying to prevent your voice from shaking.
“I love you too, Yoongi.”
The most precious words in the whole world.
“Should I stop?”
Your eyes widened. “N-no! I mean… if you’re…” You stopped speaking, seeing the playfulness sparkling in those dark eyes, pleased to have tricked you, even if only for a second.
“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, lifting himself up to kiss you lightly. “I only wanted to see if you would be bothered.”
“I am very bothered,” you responded, peeved. “Hot and bothered, even.”
Yoongi lifted a brow, small amused smirk on his lips. “Come to think of it, me too.” He backed up and you lifted your chest, only to have Yoongi press down on your collarbones, worry flitting his face.
“What?”
“Don’t bonk my head.”
You grimaced. “I’m not a serial head bonker.” You lifted yourself up and Yoongi swung his head back, eyes flashing with mock fear. You pointed to the nightstand, rolling your eyes, and rummaged around in the drawer, feeling to the back and pulling out the small box.
“How old are those?”
Your cheeks flushed. “L-Last month!”
“You wanted to fuck me since last month?”
“N-No, obviously earlier, but I didn’t k-know if you ever wanted…” you trailed off, flapping your jaw, holding up said box, the condoms tumbling out. You panicked a little, not wanting him to think you were expecting too much, dropping the box and scrambling to collect the pile, the tip of your finger hitting the box at the exact spot that would cause it to fly off the bed and hit the wall.
You stared at it, betrayed.
Yoongi burst out laughing. “I can hear you talking to it,” he chuckled.
“I’m not saying anything!”
“You wanna fuck me?”
Your head snapped back, eyes widening. Yoongi tilted his head.
“Yes,” you blurted. “Well, yes, I mean, you’re so…” This was awkward. It didn’t used to be awkward but, also, you had never been this invested. Your eyes widened. You were invested in a person. Actually invested, invested in Min Yoongi. You looked up at him and he looked back curiously like a cat, not realizing your epiphany. Oh shit. Now this was even more weird.
Do something. Do something. Not that. Oh no, you’re doing it.
You held up the plethora of condoms. “Pick a card?”
Living alone made you too fucking weird.
“Aren’t they all the same?” Yoongi snickered.
You shifted, putting them back down on the bed. “Ahaha… right…” Your leg pressed against his and you jumped, startled. “You’re hard.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “When gorgeous tits are out, the human body reacts when there is attraction, even if you’re speaking nonsense.”
You blinked at him. “G-Gorgeous?”
Yoongi’s ears flushed pink and he reached over, ripping a condom off the others. “Y-Yeah…” He straightened, scooting back to between your legs, placing his hands on your shorts. “Ah… unless the mood is killed…”
“No,” you exclaimed, hands flying down to the waistband. “It is not. It is alive and well. Very well.”
Yoongi opened his mouth and shut it. Then he opened it again, smiling a little. “I’m beginning to think we are a bit strange.”
“it’s just because it’s the first time,” you rambled. “All first times are a bit strange.”
This wasn’t getting anywhere, so you yanked down your shorts and underwear at once, Yoongi gasping and snapping his head down as you kicked off your clothes, the sharp scent of your arousal suddenly very apparent. You felt your cheeks heat, unaware that you had such a strong reaction to Yoongi being above you, observing your wetness with round eyes, as if to say, I did that?
“Wow.” Yoongi raised his head, black bangs framing his beautiful eyes. “You’re stunning.”
Was it ever like this? Like every word was precious, every lyric in this song meaning more than the words themselves, like every single piece of the composition was perfect, special, everything pause-worthy, even the odd bits, you reaching up to cup his head, pulling Yoongi down for a kiss, him pushing his own pants down, sucking in a breath as your hand wrapped around him, moaning in his mouth, deepening the kiss, more erotic, more intense, his cock throbbing in your palm, getting harder by your touch, Yoongi whimpering in your mouth, backing off slowly, ripping the condom open, sliding it on, and you watching, oh, he’s beautiful there too.
“Thanks…?”
“… Uh, you’re welcome.”
You spoke out loud. Great.
“Do you need some prep?”
“Yoongi, please put it in before I say something stupid again–”
You cut yourself off as Yoongi pushed in slowly, both of you suddenly gasping at the sensation, you already wet enough because you had been thinking about this for so long, morning, night, morning, night, thinking about Yoongi, and if you could, if he was ready to have him inside you, filling you up, and it was happening, happening right now, sinking into you, looking into his eyes. And you could see the amazement, the wave of satisfaction that shimmered through his dark orbs, and the way Yoongi looked at you.
Like he was complete.
“I… oh, fuck…” His eyelids fluttered. “I might not be that good…”
“Are you kidding me, holy fuck, you feel fucking incredible,” you breathed, clenching around him, moaning softly at the perfection that was him, heart racing with every second. Your hands came up and held his cheeks, your breath hot and fluttering upwards. “You already feel so good, Yoongi. You can see it in my face, can’t you?”
His eyes searched yours, looking for the lie, the performance, but there was none, no need to lie when your hips were already slowly rocking into his, creating movement and pleasure, and he fell into the rhythm, complementing you. Your hands dropped and you put them over your head, grasping the pillows, letting out every cry and soft sound so Yoongi could hear and know this was the truth, your legs circling his slim waist. Yoongi bit his lip, breathing hard, whimpering a little.
“I mean… it’s been a while… and you feel too f-fucking good, oh fuck…”
You realized what he meant and you reached down with one hand, jolting as your fingertip touched your clit, rubbing it forcefully, shudders flying through you, gasping at your own stimulation, breasts pressing together, and Yoongi moaned, feeling you constrict and pulse around him, wetter, thrusting into you harder until there was a symphony of sound, heavy wanton breathing, slapping of skin on skin, chasing your climax as Yoongi chased his, eyes locked, almost there, almost there…
At the bridge.
Somehow you both knew the final chorus was coming.
“Yoongi…”
He breathed your name, drawing it out like the most precious word in this world.
You moaned deeply and it rushed through you, shooting up your torso and into your chest, an overwhelming pressure that took you under, making you throw your head back and gasp his name, pressing down on your clit to amplify every bolt of pleasure that made your muscles shake. Yoongi groaned, thrusting into you hard with his own gasp, cock jerking and shooting into the condom, surrounded by your suffocating embrace and you saw his eyes roll back a little, muscles in his arms tense, fingers bunching into the sheets, black hair sweaty and sticking to his face.
Hot breath mixing with yours, heavy pants of shared ecstasy.
“Whoa…”
His dark eyes flickered to yours, pupils blown out, blinking slowly as he exhaled. “W-What…?”
You felt your ears heat. “Oh… uh… it’s never been like that before. I’ve never felt… so much.”
A red flush bloomed over Yoongi’s cheeks. “Me neither…”
“Maybe we’re in love?” you offered lightheartedly.
A small smile grew on his lips. “Yeah, maybe.”
You began to raise yourself off the bed, but Yoongi put his hand on your collarbones quickly.
summary:Everyone has bad habits. Funnily enough, Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook happen to have the same one. It involves silver chains, leather collars, choking each other, and a girl with a single white contact and daddy issues. Fuckin’ daddy issues, man.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you dislike overabundant swearing, maybe skip this one; too many Marilyn Manson / Slipknot references; D/s threesome smut (fem reader, black leather collars and chain leashes, choking [note:yoonkook choke each other], so much saliva, scratching, visceral making out, spitting kink, m-receiving oral, handjob, voyeurism, cum-eating); non-idol!AU - sub!Jungkook x goth, dom!reader x sub!Yoongi; shifts from third person > reader’s > Yoongi’s > JK’s POV
this is absolute depravity, don’t say I didn’t warn you but it isporn with feelings, you know me
–
now playing – bad habits by ed sheeran ft bring me the horizon
“What’s the most twisted thing you’ve ever done?”
“Choked Jungkook while he choked me as we both got jacked off at the same time.”
Park Jimin’s jaw dropped. An unceremonious amount of ramen plopped out of his fluffy lips and back into the pot below him. Jeon Jungkook choked on his. In fact, he actually flung himself away from the table at warp speed to hack out his windpipe at the sink.
Min Yoongi calmly chewed on his crispy pork belly.
Jimin – sweet, lovely, soft-cheeked Jimin with bedhead hair and swollen pink lips from the spice of his food – blinked very slowly at Yoongi and laughed nervously, jerking his head to Jungkook, whose entire head was in the sink to avoid being looked at, back to Yoongi, who slurped up a large amount of his own noodles and did not elaborate on his previous statement.
The unease was so palpable that one could sink their teeth into it.
Yoongi’s dark brown eyes slowly raised from his meal, staring at Jimin with unsettling focus.
“You’re joking… right, hyung?” he awkwardly chuckled, probably unsure if his ears were broken or if he was in the Twilight Zone. Maybe Jimin was still dreaming. Any of those three would be a sane explanation because surely, surely, he was mistaken. He hadn’t heard correctly, right?
“Right,hyung?” Jungkook sputtered from the sink, finally emerging, red-faced from choking.
Physically or mentally remained to be known.
Yoongi tilted his head and shrugged.
-
You tilted your head.
Licked your teeth slowly and watched him shiver under your gaze.
“You know what I love?”
You collected saliva on the tip of your tongue and stuck it out, letting it drip into his open mouth, listening to him swallow with a greedy moan. You grinned, waiting for those beautiful dark chocolate eyes to open again. Glistening silver bar by his furrowed brow, gleaming silver ring at the edge of those pink shaking lips that were already asking for more, wordless whine and imploring gaze.
You lowered so you were eye to eye, teasingly licking the mole underneath his lower lip.
He whimpered, pleading you with your name.
“Depravity,” you purred, low and rough, drawing out the syllables, chewing on the density of the word, winding back up like a snake, bringing the silver chain with you. Yanked on it, hard, and his head snapped back, the heavy black leather collar slapping into the sides of his neck.
A loud, visceral sound.
Jeon Jungkook moaned again, intoxicated by your power.
He was a real good boy outside of the bedroom. You heard he was quite an upstanding guy. Diligent, hard worker. Went to work on a fairly normal schedule. Always said please and thank you. Never got into much trouble other than innocent, cute mischief that made him well-liked by his peers.
Then Jungkook would come to you.
Nervous, awkward, unsure around your crowd.
But needy.
So very needy that he forgot to be embarrassed or weirded out as he was surrounded by a crowd of people in black – leather, fishnets, vinyl, too much eyeliner and dark lipstick. They always hung around for some reason or another. Work. Smoking. Loitering because the owner didn’t give a fuck. Jungkook would sit and wait and you would come out of work to see him surrounded by your kind, standing around him.
A black cocoon protecting a rather plainly dressed caterpillar.
“I came to see you but you were busy… they said I should stay and wait,” he would mumble, not quite looking at anyone, but there was too much want in his system, too much desire to run away, too much greed.
He looked up and you saw that he enjoyed it.
He liked the eyes on him.
You would smirk, cocking your fingers towards you, and he would come, presenting his neck. You would lick it from collarbone to chin and savor his stifled whimper.
“Come with me.”
The first time was, hm, not quite an accident. It was a lesson, because he was about to do something very, very stupid, the kind of stupidity like trying to do cocaine with zero experience and zero familiar faces around him. A friend of his asked you to step in and teach him a little lesson. A lesson about pain and how to deal with it. Effectiveness remained to be seen.
But satisfaction had been guaranteed.
You leaned down now, placing your hands on his face, framing it with your fingers.
Jungkook gasped at your touch, wanting more.
He had a pretty face. Beautiful eyes, deep and rich and brown. Shapely lips that were made for begging and demanded to be kissed. Cute moles the dotted his light, tan skin, natural dark stars on the galaxy of his body that craved to be explored with teeth and nails. Lots of tattoos up and down his right arm. He usually covered them up with long-sleeved shirts and big sweatshirts. Wore his hair down to cover his eyebrow piercing and changed his lip ring to a small stud when he was pretending to be a good, good boy.
But he was changing.
Metamorphosis.
Slowly but surely, Jungkook started showing up to the music studios you managed with ripped black band t-shirts and leather pants. Tattoos on display, filling in the sleeve so it was obvious and prominent. Silver lip ring clearly visible. Black hair slicked back, sometimes messy with strands brushing against his cheeks. No longer sticking out from your kind, but becoming part of them.
You smiled at him, nice and slow.
“Don’t want to wait anymore, do ya?”
“N-No…” he breathed, lips trembling under your chin. “Want you… Want you to use me…”
What a scene.
“Take off your clothes,” you murmured to his lips, brushing against them, barely-there kisses that he drank up every single second of. “And wait for me on the bed. You can do that, right?” Your fingers travelled up, up, tangling in his hair and pulling back, inhaling sharply as you heard his desperate whine waterfall from his open mouth, begging for kisses.
“I have to go get you-know-who.”
You let go of him roughly, chuckling deep in your chest. Stood up, backing away from him.
“So we can do you-know what.”
Jungkook gasped for air, on hands and knees in your bedroom, raising his head as you walked away, dancing your fingers in the air as you waved a teasing goodbye.
“And maybe I’ll let you stick it you-know-where.”
You opened the door behind you, suddenly frowning mockingly, pretending to think about it.
“Or maybe I won’t.”
You snickered deviously and shut the door.
-
Min Yoongi was aware he had a type.
Great legs, great ass, perky tits, too much black leather, a consistent habit of wearing a single white contact on her left eye, a smirk that was a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy, also kind of his unofficial manager that he paid with his dick.
Alright, his type was one specific person.
“I’m so fucking tired of this shit! Fuck, just because they don’t have an agent, the venue thinks they can try to upcharge them and, the second I step in, they think they can go over my head. Fuckin’ misogynistic bastards backtracking so fucking fast when I started pulling out numbers, I’ll fucking gutthem! Fuck! People equal shit!”
Ah, right.
She had a mouth on her.
Not just limited to a colorful vocabulary.
“Hah,shit, I’m sorry, Yoongi, I’m too fucking pissed off after sorting out what happened to Hana and the guys,” she had growled earlier, sending an inappropriate or appropriate thrill up his spine. It depended on who was who in the situation. “I don’t wanna make you do some twisted shit because I’m in this fucked-up mood, I’m gonna have to cancel–”
Her satoori got deeper and gruffer when she was angry.
It was very arousing.
“Jungkook’s outside today.”
She had paused.
Looked at him, one normal iris, one fake white one.
“What kind of twisted shit do you want to do with us?” he had asked with a smirk.
It was incredibly dangerous to ask such a question, because right now Yoongi was finding out.
She had a demonic grin, looking from Jungkook’s big, shocked brown eyes to his. He narrowed his gaze, not backing down despite basically sitting knee-to-knee with one of his friends. Both of them with leather collars and chain leashes.
Fully naked.
Yoongi wound his hand around Jungkook’s silver chain and held it tightly.
He was going to do what he was told to do because she needed it. He could feel it, almost as if it was radiating from her skin. The sin that needed to be satisfied. The glee in orchestrating dirty deeds. The pleasure she got from it all. It was tangible with every raspy exhale pushed out of her lungs, rattling with excitement.
Pink tongue on white teeth, laughing low and devilishly.
“Pull.”
Yoongi pulled.
-
“Jungkook, why do you like pain?”
He stared into her eyes. It gave him a heady and insane feeling. Sent his heart ricocheting in his chest. She tilted her head, lips barely parted, the upper one angled upward, giving her a curious expression despite the unnatural quality of the single white contact lens over her left iris.
His chest felt tight and not his neck. That was unusual for him.
“I don’t like pain.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
Jeon Jungkook wished it was his neck though.
“I like you.”
She tiled her head the other way, otherwise not reacting.
“You just happen to like inflicting pain,” he said slowly, digging his nails into his palms, feeling his skin prickling from the chills of this moment, staring into one white iris, one normal iris, but what was normal anyway, because Jungkook was pretty sure that it wasn’t this, this thing he had with her. This was a drug. This was enchantment. This was…
Just one of many bad habits.
Number one was getting too many tattoos.
Number two was getting too many piercings.
Number three was getting on his knees and begging for a collar.
Her gaze sharpened.
“I don’t like inflicting pain.”
His breath caught his in his throat.
“Ineedto inflict pain.”
And Jungkook felt it, something deep inside, like fire, like a crescendo, lashing out and then the drop, the quick turn of her head and the snap of her jaw, violently throwing her arm out. They were standing in the living room of the big house that looked mostly untouched. Fancy black leather couches, sleek flat screen television, black and white shag rug with the white parts too white, and this was her living room, but it wasn’t in the sense that it seemed like she was never here. Expensively furnished, luxe brands, almost opulent in texture, contrasting the owner – black leather jacket with too many silver studs and chains, ripped-up goat skull t-shirt, short red plaid skirt with black straps hanging from D-rings, torn and tattered sheer black tights. Standing here with him, he who showed up at outside her work and she knew exactly what he wanted.
Pain.
The pain made Jungkook feel alive and she needed to know why.
At least, he sensed that that was the true question.
“Day in and day out,” she snarled, pacing, the sound of rustling leather and clinking metal, not quite looking at him because the words were not for him. They were for the cold, cold universe. “Fuck. Fuck! All the fucking time, fixing everyone’s shit, putting dumbasses back in their place, people coming up to me all the time, can you help with this, fuck, yeah, of course I can, but a bitch gets tired, a bitch gets fed up, a bitch is fucking over it, and, damnnit, fuck youDad, fuck you for not being here, not that you would ever be any fucking help because the only things you’re good at are gamblin’ and breakin’ hearts, you fucker!”
And she turned and screamed into the house, screamed into the big empty house that was her family home, yet there was no family here, just her and Jungkook standing there, witnessing this outburst that seemed a long time coming, but he let it happen.
Yoongi had told him about it.
Girls with daddy issues. Why do they have to be so good at sex?
His hyung had said it with an open-mouthed smirk. A joke but, of course, all jokes had some truth to them.
She threw her arm to the side, baring her teeth. Vicious rumble deep in her chest, her hair wild and flaring out, not quite looking at him, speaking to him but not directly. He could tell it wasn’t him that she was furious at.
“I’msick.”
Her satoori came out heavier and gruffer when she was pissed off.
It sent an appropriate shiver up his spine.
She reached up and sank her nails into her neck and raked down, gritting her teeth, scratching so hard she left red marks and Jungkook craved to have those marks on hisskin, but he needed to listen, he needed to be patient and he needed to listen.
“I don’t want to be a sweet dream. I want to be a beautiful nightmare. I want to ruin your life and make you cry alone, wishing you were being fucked up by my hands. I want to mess you up so bad no one will ever satisfy you enough because all you can think about is my grip on your chin and my spit in your mouth.”
Her piercing eyes flickered up. One white, one with a dangerous glint.
“I’m gonna fuck you up.”
It sounded like a threat.
“I’m gonna make you do some twisted, fucked-up shit.”
It made his blood sing.
“Doesn’t that sound awful?” she chuckled darkly, ticking her head.
Breathing hard, taking his breath away.
“No.”
His breathing shallow, his heartbeat fast, and Jungkook was trying to find the oxygen to speak.
“That sounds like everything I want.”
Because he was sick too. Sick and tired of being lovey-dovey-sad-and-lonely. Sick and tired of trying to be the perfect boyfriend that he wasn’t anymore because his ex-girlfriend tossed him aside like a piece of trash, sick of the perfect son that he didn’t know how to be, tired of attempting to become the perfect human that the world always talked about but never seemed to exist. Sick and tired of everyone’s expectations of him and how good-looking and smart Jungkook should be a talented artist – fuck them, fuck it all, fuck everything, he was throwing it all away and giving into her, into the collar, into the chains, because right here, standing here with chills all over and hot blood pumping through his veins, here.
Here, he was alive.
“I want to be as important to you as Yoongi-hyung is.”
Here, he was lust and he was greed.
“You are not a liar. You never pretend you’re anything you’re not. You are always yourself, no matter what. You would do it all right out in the open if you could.” Shivering breath and there was envy there, envy because she was honest with herself and it seemed so fucking easy for her, whereas he could only be that way with her. Lowering his chin, lifting his eyes, and he was afraid but he didn’t know how to lie to orbs of white and danger. “I don’t care who sees, I don’t care who knows, I don’t care what anyone says about me anymore, I just want to stare into your eyes and lose myself in you and, if there’s pain in you, I’ll take that too.”
Here, in her grasp, Jungkook was free.
So, now when she said pull, Jungkook pulled and watched the thick black leather snap against Min Yoongi’s pale throat, watched the collar press against the sides of his neck and those dark brown, cat-like eyes flash, causing blood and unexplainable emotion to rise to the surface and here, right here, pullmeant let go.
Jungkook let go of all preconceived notions and he let himself feel.
Feel his own blood scream against the constriction, feel his scorching skin erupting all over in prickling anticipation, feel her fingers close in on his thigh. Bony fingers pressing in, sharp nails sinking onto his flesh, white-hot scratches that made his breath hitch and his back arch slightly, choking himself more, and still Yoongi didn’t let go, holding tight and rigid, keeping eye contact with him.
Jungkook couldn’t look away.
There was definitely something wrong about this but, lost in the lust-induced haze, he couldn’t imagine why.
Her face appeared in his periphery. Demonic grin. A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy. She pried her hand from his thigh and raised it high, clearly visible. Long fingers, lined palm, capable of an inescapable grip.
She spat on her palm.
First one and then the other.
Jungkook whimpered, his heart pounding in his ribcage, gripping tight on the silver chain, inked knuckles and tense forearm covered in too many tattoos, or at least that’s what everyone said, but who gave a shit what everyone said, fuck them all, too entranced by every movement, watching her hands drop, too expectant for the touch, hot gasp, spreading his knees out more, and then her saliva-slicked hand wrapped around his hard, aching cock, wet and tight and inescapable. Slow. Up, ridges of her fingers contrasting the slippery friction, glossing over the swollen head. Thumb pressed to the underside and rubbing under the slit, sending a jolt up his spine and down his thighs. Down, tightening her grip again, faintest hint of her nails dancing along the length, so light that he almost didn’t feel it which only made the sparks catch and the fire in his core burn into an embarrassing twitch that caused pre-cum to join her saliva the next time her hand ascended.
Holy.
Shit.
His head tilting back, but Jungkook didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the rush of pleasure that suddenly consumed Yoongi’s normally composed face and dark eyes, tipping his head back too. Black lashes lowering, shuddering breath, the other man’s lips dark pink and trembling, erotic and picturesque, and this was wrong, wasn’t it, thinning blood flow and satisfaction burning up from his core, but if this was wrong then why did it feel so good?
Why did he want to twist his hand and pull harder and choke his hyung more?
She leaned over and licked Yoongi’s cheek.
Those sharp features scrunched up a bit, slight discomfort, but mostly biting back any possible pathetic sounds. Yoongi was much better at it than he was, but at this point Jungkook didn’t care what he sounded like, didn’t pay attention.
He was too fixated on the obscene scene before him.
Her soft lips pressed into Yoongi’s cheekbone. Tip of her tongue against fair skin, Jungkook could hear it, the sound of her lips and her nimble, wet muscle; feel it, tighter, faster, her hand pumping his cock harder and the pleasure shooting through his veins; see it, the delicate, sensual trail of kisses that dipped down and made Yoongi’s eyes close, and then it was lips to lips, passionate lovemaking of tongues and his hyung’s deep moan trapped in his chest.
Forced to listen to the sound of tongues thrusting into their connected mouths, stolen breath and suppressed sound, saliva exchanged and swallowing.
There was a low, raspy hiss of her name, contented gratification.
Jungkook pulled harder and choked Yoongi more.
She broke the kiss.
When her head retreated, Jungkook came face-to-face with Yoongi’s open-mouthed smirk.
“Jealous?” his hyung chuckled, dark and sinister.
And then Yoongi yanked up on the chain.
-
He was enjoying this.
Should or shouldn’t did not matter to Min Yoongi. He did what he wanted because he could, because it was fun, and because it was a challenge. It was a challenge winding the metal links around his palm once more to shorten it, forcing Jungkook’s head higher, feeling her hand slide up and down his throbbing cock, fuck, he needed it, but not yet, not yet, watching that demonic grin hover above Jungkook’s face, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.
She dangled her glistening tongue above Jungkook’s open mouth.
From here, Yoongi could spy the quivering mole right at the center of those shapely lips.
“P… Please…”
Yoongi knew they made a good team, him and her.
He wound the chain around his hand, closing the gap between his fingers and Jungkook’s chin.
“Please what?” she teased, gravelly and rough.
Yoongi saw those lashes lower, those big brown eyes closing, hiding from his hyung’s eyes, maybe, but not that much because Jungkook’s legs were open, his hips were raised, his chest was straining, and he was getting his dick jacked off right in front of Yoongi’s face. There wasn’t much to hide as he begged.
“S-Spit in my mouth… please…”
Mouth opening, and Yoongi kept it wide with two fingers on Jungkook’s cheeks, feeling the vibration of his whine through his fingertips, and then she leaned down.
Spat in the younger man’s throat.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He opened his hips more and thrust into her hand, letting out a tense exhale as Jungkook moaned, wanton and wet, his eyelids fluttering and his eyes rolling back, swallowing ravenously, and Yoongi could hear it, see it, feel it under his own palm, realizing Jungkook had loosened his grip in his ecstasy, leaving Yoongi with too much oxygen and not enough restraint.
Yoongi unwound his hand and tugged down, snapping younger man’s head down forcefully.
Those big brown eyes snapped open, shock and confusion, and then widening, witnessing the view before him, and Yoongi had a fleeting moment of, fuck, I don’t look as good as he does, but it came and went, because the second Yoongi pulled his arm back and really choked Jungkook, the grip on his cock tightened and soft lips wrapped around the head, dripping saliva and hot tongue against sensitive skin, sending his world aflame with pleasure.
“Fuck!”
Jungkook got the hint and tugged hard.
And then the world was flashes and gasps, tongue swirling, saliva dripping, hand descending and two fingers hooking around his balls to spread out the wetness as the head of his cock was trapped between her lips. Suffocating tightness, agile tongue all over, hand ascending, sharp hiss tearing from his throat, fuck, so fucking good, pumping him roughly once more, heavenly mouth now removed, but everything was slippery and slick again, breath and blood drained, hazily witnessing the euphoria as Jungkook received the same treatment, and now oxygen and thoughts dissipated, in hell but this was the circle of lust, locking his elbow and choking Jungkook as the younger man choked him. Collar to collar, chain to chain, tan tattooed skin covered in a sheen of sweat, large brown eyes open and drinking in every detail as Yoongi did the same, open thighs, intense pace, rippling chest, and Yoongi ticked his chin, fuck what the world says, I am just as much of man as he is, and there was anger in the thought, defiance, narrowing his eyes and vowing to last longer, not that this was a competition but why not add another layer to the insanity?
Eye contact and Yoongi didn’t say anything, just growled in response, telling Jungkook that he knew he was being seen, that he knew he was being watched, that he knew he could barely breathe and barely think, and above all that he knew he wasn’t going to lose and he wasn’t going to back down.
Jungkook whimpered, his gaze glassy and drunk on depraved desire.
“C… Cum with m-me…”
Out of all the things, that shaky whisper might have delivered the strongest surge of pleasure yet.
Thathadto be twisted.
Yoongi felt himself smirk.
The only way he knew how to take it was too far.
“Go ahead. Cum all over me.”
He watched white teeth sink into pink lower lip, exposing that tiny mole perfectly under the center, and truly this was fucked, the eerie satisfaction Yoongi got from those furrowed brows and lust-consumed brown orbs framed in black hair and silver piercings, brow and lip and ears, clenched jaw and prominent muscles on neck and torso, and Yoongi cocked his head despite it all, rolling his hips forward, closer, seeing Jungkook move his too, rising the challenge, and this was a little psychotic, a little mischief in Yoongi’s smirk reflected in Jungkook’s watering eyes, a lot sexy as Yoongi succumbed to the pleasure and grinned at the same time Jungkook moaned and threw his head back, cutting off his sound with a gargle, and the world that had been bleeding black hazed to a flash of darkness.
Jungkook came all over his thighs and between his open legs, strings of thick hot cum painting his equally burning skin, and Yoongi sucked in a razor-sharp inhale, peaking at the point of airlessness from holding his own breath, shooting white onto those thick, muscular, tanned thighs, his orgasm clinging to them even as they violently shuddered and bucked, slick cream dripping down the curves.
They let go.
The chains fell, slapping them in the chest and legs, smearing the cum.
The rushing oxygen knocked the wind out of Yoongi, making him cough and shake his head tensely, then a groan tumbled out of him, sudden soothing wet heat, and he cracked his eyes open, seeing her lick off Jungkook’s cum on his thighs, switching between him and the younger man, the depth of their moans mixing. One raspy, one silvery, both hoarse. Wet tongue all over sensitive and overstimulated skin, sharp nails gripping their hips, hint of pain, and that made it perfect.
Yoongi looked up, his palms on the bed behind him, panting.
Jungkook felt the eyes on him and gazed back, slightly unfocused, trapped in the carnage of the aftermath, sweat making his toned chest glisten. Yoongi smirked, open-mouthed and devious, deliberately looking Jungkook up and down.
“Should get a mirror next time so you can see yourself.”
He found perverse pleasure in seeing Jungkook’s cheeks flush red, tucking his chin down to cover his face with his long black hair, unable to keep eye contact any longer.
The only way Yoongi knew how to take it was too far.
-
It was true.
You were sick and tired of being alone.
It wasn’t as if you wanted your dad to be home. What was he gonna do? Become to dad he never was? No. You were too old for that shit anyway. And besides, it wasn’t like you didn’t understand it. Being an adult sucked. He was real good at gambling. So good that you were standing in a big house and you could buy big cars and big rings with your father’s winnings. Everyone liked to say that money couldn’t buy happiness.
But you know what it could buy?
It could buy two matching collars and silver chains.
Only someone born rich could say something like money can’t buy happiness, because everyone else knew that happiness was security, and security was lying between a sleeping Jeon Jungkook and dozing Min Yoongi and having your hands wrapped around each silver chain, running your fingers over the immobile links, soaking in the depraved satisfaction that gave you. Sure, maybe you had daddy issues that gave you bad, bad habits, but everyone had a sin and yours being lust only bothered those whose predominant sin was envy.
You felt Jungkook’s hand on your hip, pulling himself closer. Pressed his body against yours, craving the closeness and the maximum amount of touch. Yoongi’s fingertips were running down the tendon of your wrist, murmuring your name.
“Yeah?”
“Happy?” he mumbled, a one-word question.
You smiled to the dark.
You weren’t wearing your white contact lens. It was time to sleep.
pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook, mentions of namjoon x reader
Do not read this before reading the full a–dick–ted au. Although these events occur before the entirety of the a–dick–ted au, the significance will be lost unless the rest is read first.
warnings:rated M (18+) for language, mentions of alcohol consumption; everyone is fucking around (literally); dreams of smut (fem reader, nipple play, fingering, f-receiving oral, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking, choking, scratching / marking); non-idol!AU
inspired by TXT’s new album, The Chaos Chapter: FREEZE based on this
–
now playing – anti-romantic by TOMORROW X TOGETHER
He didn’t know it then.
He couldn’t dream of what was to come.
He didn’t know this moment would change him forever.
“This is my friend, Min Yoongi.”
“Hello.”
She didn’t pay very much attention to him and he didn’t pay much attention to her. They merely exchanged names, waved in greeting, and went back to their respective moments. She stood next to Kim Namjoon, hands in her pockets, not really looking at the people he was introducing her to. An awkward air, yet Namjoon stood beside her protectively. She chewed on her lip, nodding as another member of the friend group acknowledged her. Yoongi didn’t think much of her. She wasn’t his type. Baggy black cargo pants, loose black t-shirt, black cap.
His type was short skirts and easy.
Min Yoongi was a bad boy.
He smirked and pressed the girl beside him to his chest. She giggled and smacked him, playfully pretending to push him away. He wouldn’t call her in the morning and she would probably barely remember him, seeing how drunk she was.
Min Yoongi was a playboy.
He didn’t know.
Later, he was kissing his fuck of the night and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her and Namjoon in a corner. She was in Namjoon’s lap, her cap on the seat beside him, Namjoon’s hands all over her waist and ass. Yoongi pushed the girl down to his neck, letting her sloppily make out with his skin, watching Namjoon’s kind-of, sort-of girlfriend.
He didn’t know why.
Something about the way she was kissing his friend.
She wasn’t dressed sexy, but she moved like it, sensual, deep kisses, grinding in Namjoon’s lap, her hands sliding up into his dark hair. Words exchanged. Her eyes opening slightly, half-lidded and looking around them. For a split second, her gaze and Yoongi’s gaze connected, drawn to each other like a moth to flame. Yoongi only had a fragment of an instant to see those blown-out pupils and then Namjoon’s hand was creeping up the front of her shirt, kneading her breasts through the fabric.
Her attention was gone from him.
And his from her.
Min Yoongi didn’t care about anything.
Weird that when he fucked that girl in her apartment that night, he thought about those eyes.
Orgasmed thinking about them.
Those eyes had been searching for something. Yoongi wasn’t sure if she was looking at the actual people around her or something else. But it felt like something else. He didn’t know why.
He simply felt that way.
-
Yoongi closed his eyes and dreamed.
In his dream, her. Namjoon’s kind-of, sort-of girlfriend.
Except she wasn’t with Namjoon. She was wearing a sinfully short red satin dress, tight in all the right places, molded to every curve, his leather jacket over his shoulders. She looked sexy as fuck in red. Just so fucking beautiful on her own, standing there, surrounded by his black leather.
She turned her head and looked at him.
He couldn’t breathe.
Down, like he was falling, falling, and then his head collided with pillows, gasping, and she was on top of him, hungry kisses, tumbling, him grabbing her shoulders and pushing her down, so hot, her sounds filling his ears, his name a wanton moan, and he couldn’t stop, sliding between her legs, instant bliss, fucking her into the bed, surrounded by soft navy sheets, that mouth calling his name, those eyes looking into his soul, and the sound, fuck, her sound, music to his ears, the wet slap of their bodies, her whimpers, the way she said his name.
She had never said his name in real life, but in this dream, she said it like she had been saying it all her life.
And he could feelit, feel the way her pussy wrapped around his hard length, squeezing him, sucking him in, wanting him, and he was hazy, intoxicated, drunk.
Addicted.
It shot through him, the pleasure invasive and unavoidable, clawing through his veins, setting them all on fire, and he wanted it, those blown-out pupils and that fucked-out expression, he wanted it, that open mouth, pretty pink hole just begging to have his cock shoved into it, he wanted it, that body squirming under him, thighs and ass and tits and back, he wanted to watch cum drip down all over this body and spread it around with his hands, coating her with the thick scent of his orgasm, capturing her lips and thrusting his tongue into that mouth, her whines shoved back into her lungs.
Yoongi wanted it.
In this dream, he shoved her against the wall, pressed her down onto the kitchen counter, dragged her into his lap, put her on her knees on the floor, and fucked her, fucked her, and fucked her, and it was never enough, it never seemed to be enough, and he couldn’t stop, he just couldn’t stop wanting to fuck her so, so bad.
He wanted it so bad.
Wanted her to say his name, to grip onto his shoulders, to tip her head back as his hand wrapped around her neck and his cock assaulted her pussy, legs and arms and voice wrapped all around him, begging for more, here, there, everywhere, somewhere, nowhere.
Darkness.
Swallowing him up.
And then he was alone.
No, not alone.
But not with her.
Yoongi felt himself running, running, the world in darkness. A hand in his hand, holding tight, stumbling, looking for the black light that was her, chasing the moment. The never-ending moment of his lips on her lips, in the safety of the impossible.
-
The funny thing about dreams is, they’re too easy to forget.
Yoongi awoke with a start, tangled in unknown sheets, in a stranger’s bed. It was early morning. The sun hadn’t even rose yet. He was naked. The girl he fucked last night was naked and passed out. The details slipped away from him rapidly, all of it, but he remembered the sex the night before was nothing like his dream.
The sex last night before was fucking trash.
He got up quietly and yanked on his clothes, taking all his belongings, not giving a single shit, not bothering being nice about it. It didn’t mean anything, and it never did.
His head hurt a little, but not that bad. He picked up his phone, deleting the girl’s number right there in her own bedroom before shoving it in his pocket. He stepped outside the unknown apartment and started walking, hands in his pockets, looking for where he was, forgetting all about the dream and last night’s fuck.
Deep down, Yoongi felt an ache.
A want.
He couldn’t place it though. Didn’t know why.
Something brushed past his ear and it almost sounded like his name, breathless and full of lust.
Yoongi turned his head, his short black hair fluffing in the wind, but there was nothing but the stale air of dawn. He frowned, turning back forward, a sudden thought intruding his mind.
The best sex is still…
Who?
Yoongi looked up into the sky that was beginning to break into light, but, inside him, he was trapped in what seemed like endless darkness.
The funny thing about dreams is, even if you forget them, they don’t forget you.
—
now playing – ‘0X1=LOVESONG (i know i love you) ft. seori’ by TOMORROW X TOGETHER
He couldn’t do anything to stop himself.
When he was awake, he did whatever. He messed around, he drank, he fooled around with feelings and bodies, but never too much, never too far. He dressed nice to attract the sweet compliments, showering himself with praise and validation from others to feed his insecurities, but his heart belonged to that soulmate he would find one day, so he couldn’t get careless and give away his first experience to anyone.
It had to be that one, that person, all or nothing.
Jeon Jungkook believed that.
He believed that when he met this person, he would know instantly. That was how it was in movies and shows, right? The chance meeting, eyes to eyes, and the two main characters just knew, life giving them every chance to fall in love, the perfect moment of falling flower petals and birds singing in the background as they kissed for the first time.
So, why?
Why couldn’t his brain stop?
He didn’t even remember how they met. Not at all. He was probably drunk, and it was only an introduction anyway. Kim Namjoon introduced her as his friend, even though it was obvious they were sex friends. That wasn’t his person. The person for Jungkook would be like him. Waiting for the one. The moment of falling flower petals and birds singing in the background.
He hadn’t waited for his first kiss, but he had decided that wasn’t as important as his first time. He had been young then. He didn’t know the magic, the power, the importance of love. He knew that now, so he simply always stopped before the final moment. He would do everything else but that.
He had to wait and look for it.
Where was his moment?
Where was his euphoria?
Where was his forever dream?
Slowly, Jungkook was losing.
He would throw himself onto his bed of soft navy sheets and fall asleep, alone, the frustration festering inside his heart, infested and infected.
-
In his dreams.
Her.
It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know her. He had only seen her a handful of times and they barely spoke. He didn’t even ask questions when Namjoon and her parted ways. He didn’t care. She wasn’t the one. She didn’t give him that feeling, so unless she wanted to be a side mission to his quest, he didn’t pay any attention to her.
And yet.
In his dreams, her.
Crawling onto his bed, shedding her clothes, delicate hand sliding up his abs, smelling like whiskey, pine, and leather even though that wasn’t what she smelled like whenever she hung out with him and his friends. Jungkook didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why he could feel this touch, he didn’t understand why it made him hot, he didn’t understand why his hand always reached down and pulled her to him, his lips crashing to those malleable lips, her mewls vibrating in his mouth, soft body flush against his hard one. His hands slid between her legs, forcing them apart, kissing down that body line, the smooth texture of her skin on his lips and tongue, fuck, breasts so soft and the taste of her nipples in his mouth, swelling a little as he sucked, lapping at it with the tip of his wet muscle and hearing her moan his name, a moan he had never, ever heard in his whole life, but she said it like she had been saying it forever and ever.
Jungkook didn’t understand why he could feel everything.
He could feel it, his mouth on that heat, guttural moan emitting from his throat as he tasted it, sweet like candy, his fingers digging into soft thighs, spreading them open as his tongue traced circles around that opening that he had never sampled before, thrusting his tongue in and groaning, getting hard because he could feel her muscles close around his tongue, his nose rubbing the sensitive nub covered in slick juices, sliding the wet muscle back out and encompassing her clit with his lips, licking at it and it swelled, engorged with pleasure, listening to her soft cries, his cock getting harder and harder, looking up at that face and seeing her head tipped back, mouth open, sucking on her clit more harshly, her trembling body shaking his own, surrounded by delightful sin as her juices flooded his mouth and her lustful voice whimpering his name flooded his ears, so turned on that he had to clamp his thighs around his cock to get it to calm down.
The dreams got worse.
His fingers shoved inside her, feeling her pussy walls wrapped around them, her hands gripping his shirt and her gasps in his ear as he thrust his fingers into her roughly, her softness to his hardness, wetter, louder, something between his teeth that tasted artificially sweet, and she leaned in and sucked it into her mouth, swallowing it before kissing him, ravenous, needy, whimpering his name, his fingers soaked to the knuckles.
And then.
In between her legs, his thick, hard length pushing into that tightness, oh, fuck, and it was perfect, wonderful, so tight, so wet, so soft. His hips rocking, plunging into that heat over and over, and she was breathless from his power, wrists pinned down by his hands as he fucked her into his bed, rough massage of her orgasm up and down his hardness, oh, so good, so hot, so sexy, so real, he could feel it like she was right there, wailing his name as he pumped his cock into her forcefully and came, shooting his cum inside that perfect pussy wrapped around him, fitted to every contour of his jerking length, made just for him.
Jungkook didn’t understand.
He dreamt these dreams all the time. Whenever his eyes closed and he slipped into darkness, she came to him, and he rushed to her, hungry to feel it again, the lust the seemed never-ending, the way she said his name, the way her nails dug into his skin and scratched him up, the way her breath caught when his hand was around her neck, ecstasy painted on her beautiful features as he thrust up into her, smacking hips to hips, so hard he could feel it bruise, and he loved it, he loved the feeling that seemed so real, so fucking real that it was starting to be better than his actual flings.
But Jungkook could do nothing.
She didn’t look at him.
To be honest, she expressed nothing but annoyance with his presence.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
It was supposed to be a perfect moment.
It couldn’t be her.
Her fingers would be twisted in a leather coat, her lips parting as Min Yoongi filled her ears with words Jungkook couldn’t hear, watching his hyung’s fingertips graze her thigh. And just as soon as they touched, they would break apart.
Jungkook was confused.
Like ships in the night, Namjoon’s past lover, his kind-of, sort-of ex-girlfriend would walk by Min Yoongi and something would be exchanged, something Jungkook couldn’t quite tell or see, until it was obvious, short skirts and cropped tops, Yoongi dragging her into hallways, into bathrooms, into dark corners, doing things to her, things Jungkook dreamed about every night now, things that he had never considered or didn’t even know he could do.
The more of her body was revealed to him, the more Jungkook wanted it.
But he couldn’t.
But he wantedit, wanted her under him moaning his name, wanted her hands on his body, wanted his cock to be the one to make her feel good. Jungkook wanted it and he didn’t understand why, because love was falling flower petals and birds singing in the background, not him dragging her on hands and knees and pounding her from behind, groaning as he savored the feeling of his crotch harshly smacking into her plump ass, his open palm slapping the softness and making it jiggle for him, leaving red marks and crescents of his nails because he was grabbing her hips so tightly while shooting his load into that warm, wet tightness, listening to her wanton moan of his name.
Jungkook could think about nothing else.
Addicted.
He would lay in bed and close his eyes, remembering his dreams, stroking his hard length with his hand and imagining it was hers, fucking his own hand and imagining her holding his cock, not even needing her to do the moving because just her presence was enough, just knowing that she was there, waiting to be used by him, and that thought alone was enough to make him orgasm with an aching gasp, pressing his head back into the pillows and shooting thick spurts of cum all over his hand and thighs, globs of whiteness dripping down and covering him with his scent, imagining it was her he was painting with his cum, smearing it onto her tits, her face, her stomach, her ass, her legs, everything, everywhere, all over.
He couldn’t make it stop.
He wanted it.
Needed it.
Needed her.
Jungkook just knew.
There was no way he could make it stop.
No, there was.
One way.
Could he?
“Hyung?”
Min Yoongi looked up from his glass of whiskey, leather jacket creaking, smelling like pine. His black hair over dark brown eyes, cat-like and indifferent to the world around him.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
—
now playing – frost by TOMORROW X TOGETHER
Silence.
A silent night for the first time in a long time.
For the past couple months, your nights had been filled with heavy breaths, the slap of skin to skin, deep whispers of your name. Strong hands wrapped around you, full lips capturing yours, pressed cheek to dimpled cheek, his large frame towering over you, full of warmth and lust.
And now.
Nothing.
Because you had asked it to stop.
You shifted in your pillows, turning your phone over in your hand.
“I appreciate you being upfront about it. To be honest, I wasn’t really getting the vibes from you either.”
That’s what Kim Namjoon said to you.
“I’d like to still be friends though. Would you?”
You didn’t need to hesitate.
“I’d like that, Namjoon.”
He had smiled at you, wide and full, dimples on full display.
You turned your phone over in your hand.
You thought you would regret it. At least feel disappointed. Sad. Something. Anything.
Nothing.
It wasn’t that serious. It was just sex. You weren’t his girlfriend. You didn’t want it to be more than that. He did. It was better this way, for you and Namjoon. He could find what he needed, because it wasn’t you.
You stopped turning your phone in your hand.
Remembering black hair and dark, cat-like eyes.
Remembering the closeness.
Remembering his words.
“Are you wet?”
Your words.
“Are you hard?”
The shiver you felt at his response.
“Yeah.”
He told the truth, so you did too.
“Yes.”
You looked up at the ceiling, remembering the way his deft fingers danced in the air. Teasing you. Making you wonder what he could do with them.
pairing(s): seokjin x reader x namjoon — also yoongi x reader, implied ot7 x reader
summary:Kim Seokjin calls to issue a challenge. A (double) dare, if you will. He says you can’t take two dicks at once. Kim Namjoon, his roommate, argues that you can. Well, you never back down from a dare, especially when it involves Seokjin and Namjoon.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language, low-key horny crack + chaotic energy; smut (fem reader, doggy, threesome, slight D/s dynamics, mild restraint, nipple play, finger sucking, fingering, double penetration); non-idol!AU - ot7 x sex friend!reader, focusing on Seokjin and Namjoon in this one :D (coughwith some Yoongi)
’journey (to the dick)’ au aka you as the main character in harem hentai and BTS is your (horny af) harem
–
“Yah!”
Smack!
“What? Ah, f-fuck!”
“I need you to get over here. There is a particular matter that needs to be discussed,” came the very serious, no-nonsense tone from your phone, speaking rather sternly for someone who called you three times in a row and forced you to answer in the middle of your, ahem, dick appointment.
You were holding the phone in one hand and your other was on the bed, fingers clutching the sheets, jerked forward periodically with firm, hard thrusts.
Someone was shouting behind the one on the phone.
“I told hyung that you could take dick in both holes and he doesn’t believe me!”
You immediately recognized that deep, sultry voice in the background. Still, you needed to address the accusation first.
“Kim Seokjin,” you panted. “What the fuck?”
You could hearhis exaggerated eye roll. Well, you couldn’t, but you could, you know?
“Namjoon thinks you can take dick in the pussy and the ass at the same time,” Seokjin spat as if that was utter bullshit. “And that’s just not possible.”
Smack! “Why–” Smack! “Would–” Smack! “You–” Smack! “Think–” Smack! “I couldn’t – mmm, fuck, yes right theeere, fuck, so deep and so hard, ugh, you’re so good…”
Seokjin continued like you weren’t in the middle of getting fucked right that very second.
“Because, okay, you could take some small dick, sure, but us? Us? Come on, you totally couldn’t.”
“That was absolutely absurd of you to say so, Kim Seokjin,” you snapped, your words curling into a lustful moan as a firm hand pushed the small of your back down, forcing you to your elbow, leisurely spanking your ass hard with his open palm, keeping you on the edge, so close to hitting your peak but not quite there, thrusting steady but rough.
The headboard was hammering the wall at the same deliberate pace.
The neighbor who lived on the other side of the wall was cursing again.
“Are you both going to be home?” you gasped out, all of your muscles tensing. Almost…
Seokjin snorted. “Pfft, obviously, we are human beings who sleep, you know–”
“We’ll see about that.”
You hung up on him.
“I gotta go.”
Surprisingly, the deep, husky voice behind you actually responded.
“Afterthis one.”
“You asshole, you are holding out – a-ah, wait, oooooooh, fuck!”
-
“I took a shower, Yoongi helped me clean all my bits, I dried my hair, went back home to put on a fresh dress and you’re fucking ASLEEP, KIM SEOKJIN, WHAT THE FUCK?!”
“Zzzzzzz – guh!”
Total chaos as you threw yourself onto Kim Seokjin’s lap, disturbing the perfect image of self-proclaimed Worldwide Handsome laying on the couch covered with a fluffy white blanket and squishy alpaca plush with a red neck scarf tucked in his inner arm, grabbing said plush and smacking him with it repeatedly as Seokjin lost his shit, flailing about and throwing his arms over his head, wailing at you to stop. His roommate, Kim Namjoon, was unabashedly cackling like a lunatic behind you.
“Hell no,” Namjoon snorted in laughter. “I’m having a great time watching.”
“Yah!”
“First you doubt me, then you fall asleep on me, what’s next, you–”
Seokjin grabbed both your wrists, thinking he had won, already cheering for himself, only for you to plant your tits right onto his handsome face, his nose jammed right into your cleavage because of the sweetheart neckline of your red lace dress, hot breath warming your chest, brown eyes wide, grip on your wrists lessening in his shock. You yanked your hands out and clutched his head, sinking your fingers into his black hair, violently muffling his half-squeal, half-moan with your breasts, blaringly obvious that you weren’t wearing a bra because your prominent nipples were already hard and creating stiff peaks under the fabric, poking him incessantly in the cheeks.
You gasped as another pair of strong hands grabbed your forearms and made you release Seokjin’s head, forcing them up and your back to arch. A deep voice dipped down to caress your ear, not paying attention to Seokjin who did not detach himself from your tits.
He was making the most of it while you were distracted.
“Woah there, what do you think you’re doing?” Namjoon drawled, grip tightening, bending your arms back, elbows up, pressing your wrists to your upper back. “That’s not a punishment.”
You tried to breathe but Namjoon’s heavenly deep voice was taking your breath away.
“You know what punishments are.”
He pressed your head back, leaving your arms the way they were, and Namjoon’s sultry eyes appeared, half-lidded brown orbs completely visible because he had cut his hair very short now, dark gray-brown and spiked up, cocking an eyebrow at you. You whimpered at his gaze, suddenly feeling hotness on the curve of your breast, lips pressed to one of your nipples, and then wetness closing in, sucking you through lace and satin, the short flared skirt rising because of your spread thighs, but there was too much fabric between you and Seokjin’s hardness, the blanket and pajama pants and boxer briefs, so frustrating, about to lower your head to rectify that, but Namjoon’s palm pressed into your chin, fingers closing in around your cheeks, immobile.
“Where do you think you’re looking?”
Every time Namjoon smirked, one of his dimples peeked out at you. Ugh, so sexy.
“I… I’m s-supposed to be punishing Seokjinnie…” you gasped out, feeling said man’s teeth nicking at your nipple through your dress, his large hands closing in on your waist, pulling you closer, causing you to bend back more, unable to escape Namjoon’s grip and gaze.
Namjoon tilted his head, amused. “Yeah? Were you so, so mad that hyung wasn’t awake so you could show off how well you can take it in both holes?”
You didn’t want to whine and be pathetic, but Seokjin’s mouth and hands were all over your breasts and waist, pinching you through your clothes and sucking on the hard nubs, rushes of pleasure clouding your head and making you forget your defiance, remembering all the things Namjoon liked, like when you were so drunk on sex that you just gave into him, now whimpering and opening your mouth, your tongue sliding out, feeling him shift his palm, Namjoon’s finger leisurely tracing your lips. Your tongue followed, licking the pads of his fingers, rolling your body into Seokjin’s mouth, wanting to grab his shoulders but not letting yourself do so because Namjoon hadn’t allowed you to do so yet.
He liked you bad, but he also liked you obedient.
“W… Want it…”
You felt Namjoon’s other hand tangle in your hair, fingers molding to your scalp, sliding two of his long fingers into your mouth and making you suck on them, your eyelids fluttering as he fucked your mouth with his fingers, rubbing your tongue, pushing your arms down, your name growled by that deep, deep voice.
“Look at me.”
You fixated your eyes on Namjoon’s stern expression, shuddering as you felt Seokjin push the sleeves of your dress down, scooping out your breasts, moaning as his lips touched your skin, hot tongue teasing your hard nipples and you couldn’t tell him to do more or less, trapped by Namjoon’s fingers in your mouth and his hand in your hair, tugging at it lightly so you sucked his fingers like a cock, vision hazing out at the helplessness of it all.
Voluntary helplessness, to be clear.
“You want it? You had Yoongi-hyung fucking you earlier and now you want more? So dirty and so insatiable,” Namjoon taunted, not meaning it of course, because how could he mean it when he too wanted it all, knew you were insatiable and loved it as much as the rest of them, addicted to the feeling you gave him, pushing your head down, fingers still in your mouth. Seokjin raised his head, black hair, large brown eyes, pink lips lush and full and gorgeous, meeting the image of fingers sliding in and out of your glossy lips, your eyes glassy and reflected in his.
Namjoon pushed his fingers apart, opening your mouth.
Your tongue lolled out, swiping around his knuckle, staring into Seokjin’s eyes.
“F… Fuck…”
The oldest was dirty-minded but resistant in showing it, clenching his jaw, weakening as your fingers danced up his arms and you moaned his name messily between Namjoon’s long wet digits, tits pushed up by the neckline of your dress straining under them, knowing your sensuality was irresistible and infectious, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer.
“I still… don’t think you can take us both at once…” he breathed, staring into your eyes.
You smirked, Namjoon’s fingers sliding out, saliva smearing onto your chin, the taste of his skin on your tongue.
“Only one way to find out.”
And you leaned in and kissed those perfect lips, soft and passionate kiss, wrapping your arms around him, fingers splaying over his back and in his hair, his name trapped in the kiss, sudden hardness pressing to your back, breaking the first kiss and turning your head to be trapped in another, full lips commanding the lip-lock, two different hands on your breasts, Seokjin and Namjoon toying with them, the rush of pleasure only just beginning.
-
“Whose face am I looking at?”
“Obviouslymine,” Seokjin scoffed. “Do you even have to ask?”
You gasped. “But Namjoon is so handsome.”
Seokjin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you want him to make you look at him, so that completely defeats the purpose of being forced when the default is you facing him.”
“Also, hyung thinks he’s the most handsome,” Namjoon chuckled, tugging your dress off, kisses across your chest as it left your body, hands travelling to push your panties down.
“No,” Seokjin choked, affronted as you moaned and gripped Namjoon’s shoulders, enjoying his powerful grip. “I am not that self-centered. I just happen to like how Ilook very much. Namjoon is very handsome, capable, and intelligent.”
“Thanks, hyung.”
Namjoon shoved a finger inside your wetness, making you stumble into the sofa, raising your leg to place it against Seokjin’s naked thigh, almost falling if it wasn’t for your ass being suddenly grabbed by Seokjin’s firm hands.
“You are still clumsy, Namjoon,” Seokjin sighed, lowering you slightly to look over your shoulder.
You reached back and held onto the sofa, Namjoon’s mouth on your nipple and his finger in your soaked pussy, thrusting deeply to match his swiping tongue, maddeningly slow but rough, so dangerous, losing your mind at the leisurely pace, trying to buck your hips to get more but Seokjin’s hands were preventing you.
You heard the oldest huff and make a disapproving tongue click.
“Not like that. She likes it faster than that.”
Namjoon knew that. Obviously.
Your eyes widened.
He smirked around your nipple as one of Seokjin’s hands left your ass.
“Seok– oh, fuuuck!”
You gasped as you felt another finger enter your dripping pussy, another finger of a different hand, stretching your walls and a different pace, faster, your eyes rolling back, head hitting Seokjin’s shoulder, but either he didn’t notice or didn’t care, your moans in his ear, Namjoon matching the rhythm, oh, shit, they were fingering you together, Seokjin from between your legs from behind and Namjoon from the front, the backs of their hands slick with your juices, Seokjin’s other hand still squeezing one ass cheek and Namjoon’s other hand on your waist, his mouth on your breasts.
“Come on, I know you’re close,” Seokjin muttered, exhaling hard. “I can feel your pussy sucking me in, asking for dick already.”
He was not normally one for dirty talk, but sometimes Seokjin let himself got lost in the lust, lost in the moment of your throbbing walls and shaking body, moans of their names tumbling from your lips, filling up their living room with obscenity and depravity, thrusting in unison, loud and wet and heavy breathing blending with your sound, pushed to the edge, thighs tensing, electricity flashing throughout your nerves.
“Namjoon, Seokjin, fuck!”
Wet squelch, sweet gush of your juices soaking their hands, your eyes rolling back, yelping as Namjoon’s hand retreated and Seokjin stuffed another finger in you. You didn’t need to say it, one glance at Namjoon and he could see it, harder, hyung, she can take it, gasping as Seokjin obeyed and Namjoon’s wet fingers pressed onto your throbbing clit, wild howl at the contact, sparks of sensitivity because it was right after your orgasm, heat at your neck from Seokjin’s cheeks, his teeth finding your shoulder, biting it, maybe from his realization of how crazy this moment was or in the heated moment of wanting to feed you even more pleasure, but the sharp unexpected pain only hiked your moans, Namjoon rubbing your clit as Seokjin shoved his fingers into you hard and fast, the angle a little awkward but there was so much going on that it didn’t matter, already there once again, obsessed with the overabundance of ecstasy, I’m cumming, fuck, Namjoon, Seokjin, a-ah, clit engorged and pulsing strongly to Namjoon’s punishing touch, words jumbled and woven with breathless cries, orgasm crashing down and soaking Seokjin’s hand once more, thick and sweet and honey-like, viscous juices clinging to your inner thighs, painted with your high.
Namjoon leaned in, silencing your shuddering gasps with his mouth, deep kisses and swirling tongue dazing you, aftershocks flinching through your torso as he pressed his fingertips to your jerking core, lowering you from the crashing waves, whispering darkly against your lips.
“We haven’t even started.”
Releasing you, and you were already turning around, meeting Seokjin’s gaze and his panting smile, kissing it, sighing contentedly in his touch, just something about those lips and his large frame surrounding you, something about the way he shivered when you sucked his breath away and drank it, almost innocent, but not that innocent, because the second your wandering hand found the condom on the sofa and pressed it into his palm, his lips curved into a teasing grin, nipping at yours.
“Already?” he teased.
You reached between you and him, fingers ghosting his length, smirking at Seokjin’s gasp, gazing at him under your lashes.
“You get hard from kisses, Seokjinnie.”
“I – gah, d-don’t…”
But he didn’t mean it, of course not, because he was humping your hand that was closing around his hot, hardening cock, stroking him slowly from base to tip, spreading the pre-cum over the sensitive head, his jaw clenching at the feeling, desire and need clouding his eyes, pupils blown-out, ripping open the foil packet, heavier exhales, staring into your eyes.
“You want to look at me that bad, huh?” he breathed against your lips, fishing for it.
You gave it to him, exactly what he wanted.
“Mhm, Seokjin, I want to look at your handsome, perfect face while you fuck my pussy and Namjoon fucks my ass.”
He sucked in a breath, caught in his throat.
“You’re crazy, but so, so hot.”
Eh, you’ll take it.
You moved your hand and he rolled the condom down, yelping as you captured his lips again, addicted to his kiss and his soft cries, his hand and your hand guiding his stiff cock to your quivering pussy, already saturated with slickness, spread knees and lowering body, sinking down onto him, moaning into his mouth and he moaned into your throat, suffocating each other with your noises, rolling your hips and breaking the kiss, both of your faces pointed to heaven with the true heaven between your connected hips, pleasure at being filled and doing the filling, his hands on your ass to push you down.
“Hyung, spread her ass,” Namjoon ordered behind you.
You pitched forward slightly, wrapping your arms around Seokjin’s shoulders, gasping as you felt him tug outwards, sinking his fingers into your softness, your lips pressed to his cheek, his sweet voice murmuring your name, filling you with warmth despite being exposed so vulnerably.
You inhaled deeply, breathing in Seokjin’s clean scent.
Then you flexed your asshole, tightening and relaxing the ring of muscle.
“Fuck, that’s so sexy.”
You gazed at him in your periphery, eyes widening as you realized Namjoon too was naked now, muscular body towering behind you, flicking open a bottle of lube and spreading it over his fingers, rubbing them together as they became shiny and slippery, catching your interested expression.
He smirked, dimple on display. “Ready?”
“I’ve been ready since I walked in the door, Namjoon,” you smirked back, enamored with his seductive dark brown eyes.
He chuckled.
“Nah, you were ready the second Seokjin challenged you and said you couldn’t do it.”
Oops, he got ya.
You gasped hotly, feeling his fingers press up against your tight hole, tracing circles and teasing you, pushing into your ass in the opposing rhythm of Seokjin’s rocking hips, your hold on Seokjin’s shoulders tightening, hearing him gasp with you, watching two Namjoon’s fingers dip in and snake into the tightness, both of them inhaling sharply at the sound, wet squelch and your wanton cry, your hips rocking into it, pleasure shimmering all over.
“T-That’s still not a dick,” Seokjin managed to get out, still stubborn but mixed with awe regardless.
“Gotta stretch her out,” Namjoon chuckled. “Don’t wanna hurt our good girl, right?”
Well, if you weren’t in euphoria before, you definitely were there now.
“N… Namjoon-ah…”
“Shh, I got you, just enjoy.”
You arched your back a little more, Seokjin sliding down to accommodate, slowly thrusting and gasping at the sensation, turning to him and intense kisses, needing to occupy your mouth, fullness in your ass and your pussy, whimpering as your felt Namjoon’s fingers flex, nudging your muscles to relax, core throbbing, clenching around Seokjin’s stiff length instead, so good, oh, yes, it was so good, his kisses and slapping your hips down, wanting more, already chasing more, intoxicated by the feeling of both your holes being filled.
You heard the bottle of lube fall to the floor and the slick sound of hand on hardness.
Shivers up and down your spine.
“Say it.”
You broke Seokjin’s kiss, gasping.
“Tell us that you want it,” Namjoon growled.
Drunk on the idea, commanded by lust.
“P-Please, Namjoon…” you breathed, eyes hazy and half-lidded, staring at Seokjin. “Want you to fuck my ass as Seokjin fucks my pussy. Want you two to ruinme.”
The brown eyes beneath you widened, mouthing, you’re crazy.
You grinned, Namjoon’s fingers buried in your ass.
“Told you, hyung.”
His fingers pulled out, pushing the small of your back down with his palm. One a second to mourn the loss and then your eyes widened, the thick head of Namjoon’s cock pressed against your ass.
Wait, maybe you should have asked if Namjoon could be in your puss–
Too late.
“Oh,f-fuck!”
You clutched Seokjin’s shoulders, digging your nails into him as slowly, carefully, Namjoon’s girth entered your tight, tight hole, still tight even through he worked you up and stretched you out, the lube helping him slip inside, your mind going blank, realizing that maybe you went over your head a little, but too far to turn back and, to be honest, you didn’t want to turn back, the fullness already too good to regret it, gasping as Namjoon gripped your hips, holding you completely still as he bottomed out, hot breath on your shoulder blades.
Well.
Your mind wasn’t so blank that you forgot to speak.
“Still…” you panted, slowly grinning at Seokjin’s shocked and stunned face, his jaw dropped as he felt and witnessed it. “Think it’s impossible for me to take dick in both holes?”
“Y-Y-You…” he sputtered, choking a little as Namjoon began to move, his scrambled words mixing with your lustful moans. “Are absurd.”
It was almost too much, but Namjoon did not let you command the pace, instead firmly keeping you in one spot as he nudged Seokjin to move, guiding you both expertly, groaning when you pulsated around the two dicks, able to feel the reverberations from the closeness, body to body to body, trembling from the overwhelming sensation, Seokjin thrusting up from below, his handsome face tense, panting with effort.
“Oh, fuck… it’s so tight… fuck, I can feel it, I can feel his dick fucking your ass, that’s so weird…”
You weren’t quite sure what he expected to feel. What did Seokjin originally think he was getting into when he called you? He was the one who had been touting their superior size! What did he think it would feel like–?!
“A-Ah, y-yes, there, like that, oh f-fuck, like thaaaaaaat…”
You forgot about questioning Seokjin’s brain, refocusing on the feeling of the consistent thrusting and depth of the two cocks, an almost melodic rhythm and substantial fullness. There was a sweet spot, right, oh, there, Namjoon’s hand flat against your back, his deep grunts of effort paired with each smack of hips to ass and Seokjin’s crotch to yours.
Oh, huh, were those loud, pitched moans resonating off the apartment walls you? But the ecstasy too high, too real, too good, so good that you seemed to forget that it was already very late at night.
Surelytheirneighbors would complain – was that part of your brand now? oops – but it seemed that neither Seokjin or Namjoon noticed or cared, pants and moans and groans and chasing carnal pleasure, irrational, wild, heads thrown back, lashes fluttering and lost in bliss, stuffing your tight, wet heat from both holes, kissing Seokjin sloppily before turning your head to make out with Namjoon, his teeth trapping your tongue and sucking on it, gargled moan and shaking body at the mercy of his iron grip, snapping back to Seokjin’s pillowy lips, juxtaposition of hard and soft, crashing pleasure and coiled constriction, letting go, orgasm overtaking you in shudders, not realizing you had been so close, their names falling from your throat between fucked-out, loud, blissful cries.
“Seokjin…Namjoon…”
Couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but peak in that gratifying elation, shivers up and down your spine, the lower half of your body throbbing and trembling, chin lowering only to witness Seokjin shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw, groaning out your name as he shot into the condom, jerking cock twitching inside you, vibrating front to back, no, that was Namjoon’s low hiss of your name, his fingernails digging in your hips he shot into your ass, your eyes snapping open, thick spurts of his orgasm so strong that you could feel his cock twitching deep inside, your pulse roaring in your ears, chest heaving, struggling for breath.
Feeling far too proud that they both came with you.
Namjoon’s sweaty chest hit your back, sandwiching you between that big body and Seokjin’s broad shoulders. Seokjin looked to be two seconds away from passing out from the ecstasy of orgasm.
Nice.
“Don’t… question me… again,” you snickered, panting heavily.
Seokjin mumbled and shrugged, incoherent.
“I think he’s saying you could do this, but not the reverse of him in the ass and me in the pussy,” Namjoon clarified, kissing your shoulders with an amused chuckle.
“What?!” you roared.
“That’s n-not…!”
Welp.
-
“We still have unfinished business.”
“Yoongi, I just got DP’ed last night. Have mercy.”
“Mmm.”
Kisses on your neck, lowering the strap of your bra, wrapping his arms around you, purring your name.
“I guess you can buy me dinner and we can watch a movie instead.”
summary:The cat has asked the little birdie to make an appearance. You have been turning down private dances, preferring to focus on the art and glamour of the burlesque shows themselves. Besides, old money was entitled, twice your age, and, worst of all, ugly,inside and out. But Min Yoongi doubled his original offer and, well, he isnew money.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; reader is a burlesque dancer, caged bird performance based on Dita Von Teese; smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics, tiny bit of striptease, red lipstick kisses on nether regions (oop), m-receiving oral); non-idol!AU - cocky, rich!Yoongi x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader; a little drabble based on this ask
–
He cocked an eyebrow at you, holding the handle of the leather crop in between his perfect white teeth.
You cocked one back, covered in diamonds, rubies, and red feathers.
The room was silent except for breathing.
These walls were soundproof.
You leaned forward, lids lowered, staring at those dark brown, cat-like eyes through your lashes, your tongue extending, the warmth of his skin and his breath against your lips. You licked the handle. His pink tongue flickered out, brushing against yours.
Instant electricity.
You retreated sharply, eyes narrowing.
“You were instructed not to touch, Min Yoongi.”
The man in the expensive designer clothes tilted his head at your cold tone, not responding. He surveyed you calmly, hint of a smirk around the leather crop, his hands behind his back. Primly tailored black vest with black satin piping with matching slacks. Silk handkerchief, cobalt blue, matching his silk shirt with the subtle checkered pattern and designer logo stitched into the squares, tone on tone. Despairingly expensive, but not gaudy or over the top. Didn’t need to be. The sheen in his black hair indicated it was pampered and well taken care of. The shine of his black oxfords indicated real leather. The strength and potency of his spiced cologne made him smell like the pure sex he was from presence alone.
Behind you, your two bodyguards stood side by side, sunglasses on, unmoving.
You agreed to this private dance when Yoongi said he was willing to pay double the initial amount he offered.
New money really spent it on the dumbest shit.
You leaned forward again, watching him carefully. You were wearing long opera-style gloves made of a lush red sparkling fabric, embellished with intricate stitching.
Lifted your hand, turning it around, palm up.
“Drop.”
He only moved his lower jaw, the leather handle falling from his lips and right into your palm.
You flicked your wrist and ran the crop up the inside of his thigh, forcefully spreading his knees with one of yours, narrowing your eyes, nicking the flared end against his crotch.
Lesser man would have jumped away.
Min Yoongi was not a lesser man.
He confidently spread his legs and tipped his head back, black hair falling over one eye, smirk on those shapely pink lips. He didn’t speak or make a sound. It was disconcerting but somehow intriguing in its own way.
As if he didn’t need to speak to indicate confidence in his position.
He was a caged bird in this private room, willingly trapped by you.
You smiled.
Fitting, for the theme of your burlesque show tonight had been a large steel birdcage at the center of the stage and you inside it, dancing within the visible enclosure, skillful hands holding onto the metal bars, lush hips swaying to ruffle the feathers attached to create a half-skirt that mimicked tailfeathers of an exotic bird. You were still wearing some of the pieces now, the lingerie, the tailfeathers, and the heavy necklace of diamonds and rubies splayed out on your collarbones and chest.
You slid onto Yoongi’s lap, closing his legs with yours, entering the alluring aura that seemed to surround him, trapping the leather crop between your crotch and his. Slow exhale, mixing with his as he lowered his chin to look you in the eye, unafraid.
“Hello, little birdie.”
You did not typically touch the men you danced for. They were usually old, crass, and undeserving of your touch. You treated it as business because that was what it was. A simple service for money. Nowadays, you cut back on the private dancing and upped your price. It just wasn’t worth it, being so close to such filth.
But.
Every once in a while.
Sometimes, you got young money like Min Yoongi.
You dragged the crop up his abdomen, up his chest, shifting your arm in a graceful swoop, turning it so it grazed his cheek, outlining that high cheekbone and elegant jaw. You stared into his eyes and he stared back, open-mouthed smirk on his lips, not backing down.
Sometimes, you got someone fuckable like Min Yoongi.
“Do you think you’re in charge here, Yoongi?” you murmured dangerously.
He ticked his head.
“I’m usually in charge everywhere I go,” he chuckled. Deep, husky voice edged with amusement. “It’s very tiring being the king and the boss all the time.”
Slow blink, piercing gaze on you with a wry smile.
“I would like to have a break from that.”
You sucked in a breath.
Min Yoongi was more than fuckable.
He was going to get fucked, tonight, by you.
You closed the distance, swiping the flared end of the crop against his lips, pressing inward, taking in his smooth fair skin, his even breath, his calm demeanor, and suddenly you wanted to mess it up, you wanted to tear down this placid façade and find what was underneath, find the passion and desire you could see shimmering in those dark brown orbs, challenging you to draw it out.
“Do you understand the position you’re in, Min Yoongi?”
He chuckled, voice low and smooth.
“Little birdie and her two shadows, I understand very well and I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
Damn.
He was good.
You tossed the leather crop to the floor and captured his lips, inhaling his cologne and his scent.
Yoongi did not move his arms, devouring your lips, hungry and intense, deft tongue flickering, testing the boundaries, and you pushed your tongue into his mouth, winding with his, hot and fluid and lustful, your hands sliding up his chest and reaching his shoulders, fingers one by one falling into place, sliding your lower body up to his, sucking in his breath, heat to hardness, your body heavier from all the jewels, but Yoongi seemed unbothered, deepening the kiss and sucking on your tongue, humming contentedly.
Even though he said he wanted a break, old habits were even harder to break.
You broke the kiss forcefully, the immaculate waves of your hair tumbling down your shoulder, seeing the red lipstick smeared on those shapely, smirking lips, his eyes drifting to yours.
You lowered your arms, slowly curving your hand, pulling back your arms in one smooth arc, fingers splayed, shoulders back. Measured, slow breath, always on form, every movement a performance. He watched closely as you reached back, unhooking and unlacing the tailfeather skirt with expert precision, keeping eye contact. You didn’t need to look to undo it.
You didn’t need to look when you released it, knowing one of your bodyguards had already stepped forward to catch it, retreating to place it aside.
Yoongi smiled, dark eyes gleaming.
“An agile little birdie, I see.”
He did not need to verbalize your beauty or attractiveness.
You could see it in the way he looked at you.
Startling how lucky you were to have met such fuckable young money tonight.
You placed a gloved hand on his chest and slid one leg back, then the other, red soles clicking, tracing down his torso, kneeling now, dancing fingertips up and down his thighs, admiring them and letting him know with your gaze. Black hair over one eye again, small smile on his lips, and yet you noticed the pink tinge on his ears.
Interesting.
You retreated your hand.
Brought it to your lips.
One by one, tugging at the tips of each finger with your teeth, loosening the glove.
Dark brown orbs watched you, entranced and fascinated.
Gripping the middle finger with your other hand, tugging on the opera glove, sliding it off with one swift arc of your arm, bringing your hand behind your head as it came off, tossing the glove aside carelessly. Yoongi couldn’t see, but your hand was poised behind your head, always aware of even the unseen details, bringing the other glove to your lips and doing the same, one by one, loosening the tightness before your hand flourished out from behind your head and your arm mirrored the previous arc, into the air and behind your head, throwing the discarded glove in the opposite direction of the first. Yoongi watched with patient, precise interest, like a cat observing a bird.
He smiled appreciatively, enjoying the show.
It seemed precious, Yoongi’s smile.
A strange thought.
Painted red nails gliding up his thighs, following the shape, tracing the waistband, parted lips smeared with lipstick, the tremble of his body finally evident and, with a tight inhale, you realized you too were breathing shallowly, matching him, looking up to see his pupils dilating, his hands still behind his back.
Your index finger traced the fastening of his slacks.
Yoongi raised a dark eyebrow, questioning.
You undid it while staring at his face.
Lowered the zipper, having to lift it because of his straining erection, seeing Yoongi clench his jaw, legs tensing, shoulders shaking, watching your face, hands, the diamonds laden on your collarbones and cleavage, equally embellished bra and panties covering everything else, but it was impossible to deny, incapable to resist, inescapable sensuality between you and Yoongi, a stranger until tonight, a shadow in the crowd until this moment, now well defined by light and lust, raising his hips so you could lower his pants and boxer briefs to his knees, sitting in a heavy ornate chair in a private room with your bodyguards right behind you as you lowered your head and your lipstick-covered lips to his thigh.
Red kisses imprinted on that fair skin, shudders under your breath.
Travelling up to his hard length, tongue slipping out, tracing a fat stripe over hot, taut skin, your satisfied sigh melding with his soft hiss at the contact of your wet muscle to his hard, twitching cock.
You drifted your gaze back up to his, lazy and purposeful.
Yoongi looked down at the red lipstick kisses and his cock quivering against your warm breath, leisurely lapping at the underside of his length. His voice was a low octave, almost raspy.
“Little birdie…”
The first time he said it, it had been borderline mocking, but now there was a fondness to it. Admiration. Appreciation. Adoration.
It made your core burn and heat spread all over your lower belly, dripping between your legs.
Black hair over his eyes, breathing hard, maintaining eye contact.
“Please.”
Simple.
Effective.
Sexy.
You closed your mouth around the head of his cock, tongue lapping the underside, his scent invading your nose and your lipstick coating his skin, your fingers lacing over his hips, sliding that thick length down your tongue and into your throat, his soft moan drifting from his. He was losing control of his hands, slamming them down onto the seat of the chair and clutching the sides, manicured fingers tense, knuckles white. You tilted your head and ran the head against the curve of your teeth, heartbeat racing as you witnessed Yoongi gasping at the sensation, his broad shoulders flexing, his hips trembling in your grip, struggling to stay still.
Losing control.
Maybe he didn’t spend his money poorly after all.
You ticked an eyebrow and adjusted your head again, tongue extending past your lips, suffocating your throat with the swollen tip and cutting off your air, curling your tongue around his balls, scooping them up and pressing them to your lips, dripping saliva onto the seat, eyes on his the entire time, choking yourself on his cock and licking his balls with a blazing, intense stare. No need to say who was in charge because you knew it and he knew it, growling deep in his chest, shivering in his designer clothes from primal desire that required no such things.
You were the same, diamonds or not.
Lust feeding off lust, money or not, you probably would have fucked Yoongi regardless and you could see it in his eyes that he was thinking the same thing.
You pulled back and began your pace, swallowing his length hungrily, tongue all over the base of the head, stimulating the thin skin and his sensitive nerves, his breathing turning into involuntarily gasps.
Faster.
Rougher.
Tighter.
Finding that sweet spot, that moment where his expression changed and his irises were overtaken by black, mouth open and panting, locking his shoulders and his hips, feeling him throb in your constricting mouth, just a little tighter to prolong his orgasm, making it a little more difficult so he had to chase it, his handsome face wincing, black strands fallen over his eyes, his body humming with energy and arousal, so close, you could see it, smell it, hear it, his suppressed hisses and darting eyes, taking in the whole image, your back, the curve of your ass, your hands on his thighs, fingers splayed out, your mouth on him, taking him there, there, earning his wanton moans and fluttering lashes, twitching hardness and then he threw his head back, neck straining against his buttoned collar, a perfect image, his hips bucking up, lost control, spilling into your throat with a sinful gasp, his chest prominent against the silk shirt and vest, begging to be freed from its confines.
You swallowed it all, savoring his strong taste, delicious as his body.
He lowered his head slowly, panting, his previously neatly combed hair messy now, cheekbones glowing with a faint sheen of sweat.
You licked him off just as slowly, finding his dark brown, cat-like eyes once more.
Yoongi smiled at you, cocking an eyebrow.
Your bodyguards would probably prefer you to stop here, but you had other plans.
You popped your mouth off, a drip of saliva snapping against your chin, rising, poised on red soles and leaning down, capturing that waiting smirk, one of your hands lifting to toy with the buttons on his vest. First undoing one. Then one more.
“Touch me,” you whispered.
Yoongi’s hands flew up and gripped your waist, promising all night.
pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of past hoseok x reader
summary:Min Yoongi saves a life and then has sex. Is it the best choice? No. Does he do it anyway? Yeah.
warnings: non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug use, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, mentions of past cheating, smut (oral, m and f receiving)
–
Fuck it.
He had to do something. Yoongi stood up, grabbing his phone. His white t-shirt got caught in the chair and he stumbled, cursing at himself. He was a mess already and nothing had happened yet. He grabbed his black sweatpants and yanked them on, opening his door with purpose. Being in limbo wasn’t going to help him, so it was time to take the situation in his own hands. He strode to her door, heart pounding in his chest.
Get a grip, he scolded himself.
He tapped his knuckle against her door, saying her name loudly. Startled by his own volume, he lowered his voice, chewing on his lower lip as he spoke.
“Hey, I want to show you my mixtape. If that’s okay with you,” he finished awkwardly, wincing. He should have thought about what to say. There was a long silence. He pressed his lips together. He was losing his nerve. Each second felt like an eternity.
And then he heard the rustle of fabric. He could sense a form on the other side of the door. For some reason, he lifted his hand and touched the wood, knowing it was the only thing separating them now.
“The song… the song we worked on. I really want you to hear it.” Please.
He heard the lock turn and the door opened. The eyes that looked at him, he would remember for the rest of his life. Bloodshot, giant black pools that threatened to swallow him alive and a sadness he knew all too well. Her hands were stuffed into the sleeves of her huge grey sweatshirt and the matching long shorts made her look even smaller, a tiny thing quivering in her doorframe.
He was tall enough to see past her, into her room. It was a neat room, except for the low table at the foot of her bed. The tabletop was covered in photos that he couldn’t quite see. And in the center was a glass palette.
With ten lines of white powder.
His eyes widened. Panic shot through his veins and he grabbed her collar, inspecting her face, her nose, dragging her into the room. She didn’t even fight him, a dead weight in his hands. Her expression was lifeless, tired.
“How much?” he scowled, “How much did you take? Tell me!”
“I didn’t take any yet,” she replied calmly. Too calmly.
“Don’t lie to me,” he growled. “You’re a drug addict.”
“I am not lying.”
His panic was thinning out into anger and confusion. And then she said it.
“I’m not a drug addict, Yoongi. I’m trying to die.”
He froze.
“W-what?”
He looked down again, at the pictures. They were pictures of two people. She was smiling in those photos, eye bright and reflective with the fullness of life. She looked younger, happier. Her arms wrapped around a young man, who had an equally bright smile, heart-shaped and cheerful.
It was slowly sinking in. He let her go, eyes scanning over the photos. Pictures of them in matching outfits. Pictures holding hands. Pictures of them kissing. He looked back to her and she was staring at the photographs too.
“Aren’t they nice?” She whispered softly. “They’re such nice pictures. He always took good pictures, my sunshine.” She chuckled darkly, an ugly sound. “But photos only highlight of the good times. They don’t show the bad times.” Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath. “They don’t show his coke habit. They don’t show me enabling his habit, becoming a runner so he could have easier access. They don’t show me begging and pleading, doing degrading things so he can get another dose.”
Her hands went to head. She gripped her hair, breaking his heart with every word.
“I killed him as much as he killed himself.”
The information hit him like a truck. Speechless, he began to piece things together. The signs were there from the beginning and he didn’t even think about it because he would have never fathomed this in his wildest dreams. Guilt and comprehension hit him all at once. She could have kept the door locked and snorted the cocaine. What if he hadn’t chosen this moment? What if he had waited ten more minutes? She could have overdosed and he wouldn’t have known until days later.
But she had opened the door. She opened the door and let him see.
“What happened?” he murmured quietly.
She threw her hands out of her hair, nails raking down her face and neck. “We had a stupid fight. I told him I would be there to help him detox. We tried,” she wailed, throwing her fists against the wall. “He was shivering and pleading and exhausted. He told me he couldn’t do it. I told him he could if he actually tried and he blew up, telling me I didn’t understand.” Her voice was a panicked ramble as if she was reliving that night. He wasn’t even sure if she remembered he was there anymore. “He kept yelling at me, saying all I had to do was call Seokjin and throw myself at him. I said I was done being Seokjin’s whore just so he could get high. He stormed out, screaming that he would get his own.” She slammed her fists against the wall, screaming into it. The sound chilled Yoongi to the bone. She continued, blind to his presence. “I should have chased after him.” She slid to the floor, knees smacking the hardwood hard. “I should have gone. But I was so tired. I was so tired of it.” Her voice dropped.
“I was tired of him and it haunts me every day.”
He swallowed. It was obvious she had never said this aloud before to anyone.
“Next thing I know, he’s dead because of dirty coke.” She shuddered, arms covering her head. “I handed him a dishonorable death and I didn’t even go to his fucking funeral.”
“Why… not?” he asked softly.
She cackled, a terrible sound. “Why would I go? I never met his family. I was his drug dealer.”
He turned to the pictures. “It looks like you were his girlfriend.”
She finally looked up at him. Her glare was so sharp it could cut steel. “And what if they found out? Mom, Dad, meet my girlfriend who also gives me access to cocaine,” she scoffed.
They stared at each other, but they weren’t looking at each other. She was looking at her own demons, her own past. Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to look into pain in those dark orbs. It took him several minutes before he could speak again.
“You still deal, don’t you?”
Her voice was as distant as her stare. “You don’t get out that easily.”
They stayed like that for a moment. He had to do something. Anything.
Taking a deep breath, Yoongi sat down on her floor. She didn’t turn her head to look at him. Weirdly enough, the moment didn’t feel as alien to him as it should have. Maybe it was because he too had been at this road as well, although at that time he hadn’t quite formed a plan on how to follow though. He didn’t know what he would have done if the resources had been available.
“Do you remember,” he murmured, trying to keep the anxiousness out of his voice. “Do you remember that time where you gave me advice on what to wear for that concert?” He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “You made fun of my clothes and hair back then.”
Her eyes shifted to him. He continued, voice a little stronger now that he had her attention.
“You also brought me chicken that night and left me a note, wishing me well.” He smiled at the memory, holding her gaze now. “I wanted to tell you back then.” He wanted her to know. “Thank you.”
She didn’t laugh. She didn’t make fun of him. She looked a little taken aback.
He scratched his cheek, pressing his lips together before he spoke again. “I couldn’t tell you then, but back then, I really couldn’t afford to eat sometimes.” Without realizing it, he felt his eyes water. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. “Remember that time you were making beef and my stomach growled so loud that you laughed?” He chuckled, a small smile on his lips. “It was a great laugh. I’ll remember it always.”
Her shoulders trembled with uncertainty. “Why… why are you telling me this?”
“Because I didn’t then. And I should have.” He looked deep, deep into those eyes. “I should have said something because I am grateful to you.”
She scoffed, shaking her head. “I didn’t do anything.”
“No, you did.” He caught her eye again, preventing her from looking at the ground. “You gave me a chance when no one did and I won’t forget it.”
She was silent. He hoped she allowed herself to understand. He was no knight in shining armor; he couldn’t make her mind see what he saw. It wasn’t that simple and he knew that. He also knew that humans had vices. Humans fell into patterns and they believed in them, even if they were senseless to other people. He was guilty of that too.
She was so close and yet so far. No. She was actually getting closer. Leaning towards him, looking into his eyes. Maybe her eyes weren’t so dark after all. They didn’t seem so dark when she was close like this. Her lips were slightly parted, so full and pink. He didn’t move. She stopped, centimeters from his face. She began to pull back and he grabbed her shoulder, stopping her.
It was a terrible idea. He replied before she could say anything.
“I don’t care.”
He closed the distance himself, pressed his lips to hers. You’re a rebound, this isn’t going to cure depression, this doesn’t discount the fact that she’s a fucking drug dealer – he pushed all those thoughts aside because he did not care. Her hand gripped his shirt and pulled him closer, kissing him roughly. He held her arms as she climbed into his lap, igniting him with wild kisses, stealing his breath. She sucked on his tongue, making him moan, letting him go to kiss his cheeks, his nose, his jaw. His hands slid down her arms, finding her ass and pressing his fingers into the fabric of her shorts.
“Yoongi…” His name like a prayer falling from her lips.
It was wrong, so wrong, but he wanted it so bad.
Her lips pressed against his earlobe, making him shudder. Her tongue laced around his earring, tugging lightly, making him shiver. If it wasn’t real, he didn’t want to know. If it wasn’t right, he didn’t want to believe it. Her teeth nibbling on his ear, making him moan. Her hands slid up his shirt, fingertips against his chest. Such thin hands but they seemed to feel all of him, setting his skin ablaze.
His fingers hooked the elastic of her shorts and pulled them down, dragging her underwear down with them. She kicked them off herself, getting on her knees, kissing down his neck, sucking the sensitive skin. It hurt a little but he barely registered it, cupping her bare skin with his palms.
He whispered her name pleadingly. She looked up, breathless, locking eyes with him.
“You should stop me,” he panted.
One final warning because he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself anymore. One final moment where they could turn back and maybe not do this.
She cupped his face in her hands, pressing her forehead against his.
“I really don’t want to, Yoongi.”
She kissed him, throwing caution to the wind. He reciprocated, sliding his hand up her back. Her skin was so soft, cool against his heat. He unhooked her bra with one hand, attempting to tug her sweatshirt off. She slid out of it, pushing it aside, leaving her naked over him. He looked over her body, scars dotting her skin as thin white lines. Lithe and strong, holding the weight of her past on her shoulders. He licked his lips, pulling his shirt over his head, letting it drop beside them. He looped an arm around her waist, pressing her against him, shuddering as he felt her nipples press against his chest.
“Who knew you were hiding such amazing breasts under those clothes,” he teased, voice low. Her cheeks flushed red and she gave him an indignant look.
He turned them over, putting her on her back. He kissed down her neck, licking her collarbones slowly, tongue dipping in between them. Down the curve of her breast, tongue leisurely teasing the tip of her nipple. She whimpered, one of her hands in his hair. His free hand traced her side, feeling the fullness of her hips. She tasted so good, better than his dreams, better than he imagined. He sucked, enjoying her soft mewls and cries. He dug his fingernails into her hip, holding her down as he flicked her nipple with his tongue. Her hand tightened in his hair, curling the black locks around her fingers.
He stopped, smirking above her nipple. “Is that why you said I would look better with longer hair?”
Her cheeks and ears reddened. Fuck, she was so cute. She spoke, surprising him.
“You don’t like it?” she asked, voice quivering.
He dragged himself up her body, pressing his clothed hips in between her legs, letting her feel his erection.
“I like it,” he drawled, his lips brushing against hers. “Lose yourself to me.” Let me take care of you, even if it’s only in this moment.
His hand ran down her body, grabbing her hips and shoving them against his, grinning as he felt her wetness smear against the crotch of his pants. She moaned, her back arching, a moment he burned into his mind. He kissed down her chest again, tongue lapping her nipples. Her fingers raced up the back of his neck, tangling themselves in his hair once again. He kissed down her stomach, his lips against her soft skin. He could smell it now, the heavy scent of her sex. He spread her thighs wide, fingers dipping into her flesh. He buried his nose into it, moaning as his lips tasted her, stickiness coating his cheeks and chin. A slow, languid lick of her slit made her cry out his name. He teased her lips apart with his tongue, rubbing the tip against her walls. Like honey, her taste coated his senses. He felt drunk off her taste alone. His tongue expertly traced circles around her clit, not quite touching it, but telling her he was avoiding it deliberately.
“Yoongi…” she whined. Her hand pressed against his head, trying to push him down. “Please.”
He brushed his nose against her clit, lifting his head slightly. She whimpered and he grinned.
“Please what?” he purred. His voice was deep with lust. “I want to hear it.”
He couldn’t help it. He wanted to hear her desire for him in words.
She pouted. “Touch my clit.”
He reached between her legs and pressed a single finger against the sensitive spot. She flinched, making him grin. He rubbed, slowly, slowly.
“Like this?” he teased. Her other hand was clutching in the white t-shirt. His.
She gasped as he increased the pace, not moving too widely, but concentrating the vibrations of his hand on her clit. Her hips twisted but he held them down, watching her come undone in front of him, head thrown back as he rubbed faster. Moaning his name, chasing her orgasm.
“Cum for me,” he breathed against her skin. “Cum all over my hand.”
She sank her teeth into her lower lip, stifling her scream as she came onto his hand, liquid coating his fingers suddenly. He immediately replaced his hand with his mouth, licking furiously. It was so intoxicating that he closed his eyes, moaning into her pussy as he lapped up her juices, pressing his tongue against her clit. Her hips bucked and he held her still, feverishly licking the sensitive nub. She gasped, shoving her hips against his mouth.
“Fuck, Yoongi, fuck!”
He flicked his tongue against her clit mercilessly, holding her thighs apart firmly so she couldn’t close her legs. Her back arched so high and tight he was afraid she was going to snap.
“Fuuuuck, Yoongi!”
His name punctuated her orgasm, hips shaking as she flooded his mouth. He sucked up her juices greedily, sticking his tongue inside her and feeling her walls clamp around his tongue. Sweat clung to his brow and back but he didn’t care. He lifted his head, a perverse satisfaction coming over him as he watched the string of her juices following his chin before snapping.
She lay against the floor, panting, a little hoarse. He crawled back up to her face and she kissed him without hesitation. If this was sin, he would happily go to hell.
They broke apart, his forehead resting against hers, hands on either side of her.
“Yoongi…”
Please say my name again and again. “Yeah?”
“Let me take care of you too.”
She pushed him, gently, and he obliged, taking her hand as she nudged him to standing position. He saw the table out of the corner of his eye but he looked away. She hooked her fingers along the sides of his pants and pulled them down, freeing his semi-hard erection. He looked down at her. She reached up and circled her fingers around his cock, holding it loosely. He felt it twitch at the attention of someone new.
A small smile. She leaned forward and pressed her soft lips against his balls. He shivered at the strange sensation. Normally girls would go straight for the dick. She pressed the flat of her tongue against his balls and licked him all over. His skin erupted in goosebumps, stunned by the pleasure of her tongue wrapping around his balls and taking them in her mouth. He watched in fascination as she looked up at him, balls deep in her mouth and her hand wrapped around his cock.
He breathed her name, amazed.
She bobbed her head up and mouth, slowly stroking him. Saliva dripped down her chin and onto her chest, sliding down her breasts. He could see precum leaking out of the head and she casually spread it around with one finger, making his knees weak. He moaned as she removed her mouth from his balls. She guided him to her mouth, holding him in place as she ran her tongue over the head. He shut his eyes, seeing stars.
“Shit, I’m going to fuck your face at this rate,” he hissed.
He heard her small, “Heh.” And then she engulfed him with her mouth, hot, wet, lips tightening around his cock as she took him in. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his head. She went deep, so deep the head pressed against the back of her throat. He didn’t know how she had the skill to go so deep and, honestly, he didn’t want to know. She sucked him slowly, but each time she went down, the head of his cock scraped the roof of her mouth, increasing the sensitivity each time. He kept his hands flat against the wall, not wanting to grab her head and ruin her pace. One hand held his cock steady as the other cupped his slippery balls, smearing the saliva all over them.
It was so wet, so hot that he was sure he was going insane.
She sped up, sucking harder. Groans tore from his throat, legs shaking from the intense pleasure. He tried his best to keep his hips still, not wanting to accidentally choke her and cause her to stop.
“F-fuck me,” he moaned, feeling her tongue wrap around the head and her lips tightening around him. He couldn’t think straight anymore. He gasped her name and shot his orgasm into the back of her throat, sensing her hands releasing him suddenly. They gripped his thighs as she swallowed, the sound so audible and obscene that his cock twitched with desire despite being spent.
They stayed like that for a moment, her tongue gently encircling him. His cock left her lips with a soft plop, lips shiny with saliva. He slid to the floor, their clothes a mess around them. His chest heaved with effort. She was breathing hard too, staring at him.
He licked his lips and leaned in, kissing her gently. She clung on to the kiss, inhaling his scent.
When they broke apart, they locked eyes, the obviousness of their inappropriate moment hanging between them. He was a little ashamed, sitting naked in her room, having sex after what was almost a suicide attempt. He was still breathing hard, heart beating fast from anxiety and arousal.
He wanted to hold her. He wanted to give her everything and more. He wanted to be the light in her eyes, but that was a foolish thought, a pipe dream, and a promise he didn’t know if he could keep.
Still, he wanted.
But somehow, those eyes didn’t look so dead anymore. Somehow, they were really looking at him, not just through him. She wordlessly scooted towards him and placed her head against him, ear against his chest. He wrapped her arms around her protectively, resting his head on her hair. From this position, he could see the sun tattoo that was underneath her left shoulder blade. Behind her beating heart. It was a simple tattoo, a circle with dashes around it. He traced it with his fingertip absentmindedly. He could guess who it was for.
She wrapped her arms around his waist. Held him like she was never going to let go.
Warning: hardcore impregnation kink, possession, dirty talk, vaginal sex, basically a major creampie bro.
A/N: I’m going through major baby fever, so please enjoy my imagination
You felt Jungkook’s hands press roughly into your hips as he pounded you from behind. The sound of your husband’s groans and whiny sounds filling the air as your face was pushed into the mattress.
“You like the way that feels baby?“ He asked as you gripped onto your marital sheets. You tried to nod, your words failing you but your back being bent unnaturally stopping you. “Oh god baby” He moaned as he felt your walls flutter around him. You squeezed around him again unconsciously causing him to buck harshly into you, the angle causing him to kiss the base of your cervix, a shiver running down your spine as you let out a wanton moan. The movement caused Jungkook to pause. You grew worried and tried looking back only to see the man you called yours with his eyes shut, head tilted as you watched him breathe through his nose heavily almost as if to keep himself sane. You called out to him with a weak call of his name catching his attention breaking him from the trance he was in, you watched his eyelids open slightly, his usual coffee coloured eyes now a lustful black eyeing your sweaty body.
“fuck” He let out as his eyes moved from you to where the both of you were joined, his cock twitching slightly at the filthy ideas running through his head. “Look forward again for me baby” He breathed out, his voice an octave deeper causing a submissive whine to catch at your throat before turning. His hands gripped your hips even rougher, this time his nails digging into your skin before pulling his hips back slowly and bucking back into you, knocking the air from your lungs. He repeated this before your body started fluttering around him again and all his thoughts began to slip from his mouth.
“Fuck baby wanna fill you up so badly, so f-fucking badly” He moaned as he pounded into you roughly. You moaned in response which only urged him on even more.
“Wanna cum so deep in you baby, wanna fill you with my seed pretty girl” He rambled as he threw his head back losing himself in you. “Jungkook please” You whined not knowing what you were even asking for.
“You want it too baby hmm? want me to fill you up and knock you up?” He pressed, his words sending a shock into your system at the thought of him getting you pregnant. It’s not like you both hadn’t talked about it, babies were a subject you just both silently agreed on that when it happens, it happens and apparently for Jungkook it needed to happen now. “God beautiful I’m gonna put a baby in you, would you like that hmm? like my cock hitting your womb baby” He asked, his voice straining at the end.
“Answer me baby, wanna hear you say it” He groaned as his hand sneaked between your thighs and started began rubbing harshly at your clit. You tried to figure out what was going on in your head but the mixture of Jungkook’s fingers pressed against your clit and his cock hitting your cervix was too much for you. You could feel your climax literally on the tip of your tongue but the thought was stopped the minute you felt a harsh slap on your clit sending your hips to jolt forward. “Baby-I told you-to answer me” He punctuated with harsh thrusts. You gasped, your eyes filling with tears as you tried lifting your head to give him what he wanted.
“J-jungkook please, fill me with your cum, want your b-baby in me, make me yours” You gasped out, his shit eating grin practically beaming even if you couldn’t see it.
“That’s right baby, you’re fucking mine” He growled, his fingers back on your clit his hips angling to press even deeper into you. “Can’t wait to show you off, all big and round with my baby” He whined, his orgasm catching up to him as yours hit you. Now you’ve never experienced a vaginal orgasm but with the way Jungkook’s cock hit the end of you, your body just went into overdrive. You felt like it was everywhere, causing your body to shake underneath Jungkook like a leaf in an aggressive wind. The feeling of your walls convulsing around him aggressively had Jungkook growling as hips forced his cock into you. “Gonna cum baby, g-gonna cum and fill you. take it, fucking take it- Fuck!” He let out as he pressed into you till you could practically feel him in your stomach, The heat of his orgasm filling you to breaking point. You let out small whines as Jungkook moved his hips slowly milking his orgasm “so deep, so fucking deep” He whispered as he watched his softening cock fuck his cum back into you.
“You good baby?” He asked breathless as he fell down next to you. You slumped your body down, wincing at the aftershock. “Ask me again in nine months” You breathed still catching your breath, your eyes closing but not missing the way he beamed at your words.
Extra
“Kook, what did you do to Y/N, she looks so pale lately” Hoseok asked as he plopped down next to the younger, the boys weekly catch up at your home.
“Yeah, I offered her the left over eggs from my plate and she literally gagged and ran off” Jin pitched in as snatched the remote away from Taehyung before scolding him.
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, mild 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.
♡Word limit:6.5k
♡Author’s note :besties, here’s the new fic of Yoongi. Spare sometime of your to read this piece of beauty and let me know if you guys need a part 2 and how much you loved it. Kindly apologizing for not editing it cause it’s already so late. Remember I always love you <3
“I’m done with you, dude.” You screamed at your brother and ran into your room. You have been mad at your brother since so long. You both never get along. Fights, quarrelling and being mad at each other is both of your favourite things. You never want to live with your brother during your college years but only for the sake of your parents you were there sharing apartments with your brother. If you get any chance you would change your apartment.
“Stop overreacting, I’ll be home till night. Enjoy yourself.” Your brother said slamming your door. He was never in the house, always out there having fun with girls, alcohol and money. This is what he called life and you totally were different from him. You’re more conserved, introverted and only allow certain people in your life. But here you’re happy that atleast the whole house is yours now. You can watch Disney weird fantasy movies or eat pineapple pizza without being judged. At night after he left for partying you ordered a big size pizza and started watching the saddest movies to cry.
At the mean time of your crying session, you heard a ding bell sound at the doorstep. It’s almost two at the morning and you were confused who’s now. But at your surprise it’s you brother walking inside the house with one more person just like him. You saw him, but he was head down walking inside but you guessed it right. In the black jacket it was Min Yoongi. Your brother’s friend or kind of used to be classmate. You have been seeing him from the starting years of college. And now you’re almost at the end of the year. The person right before seems sad and num. But it was not a surprising thing cause everytime you meet Yoongi he looks so sad and calm. No emotions can be read from his expression.
“I guess you’re too early to come home!” You glared at your brother who settled himself at the couch, beside him Yoongi takes his sit.
“None of your business, girl. And why are you up this late, huh? Again watching your weird fantasy movies.” Your brother hummed.
“Yo, bitch. Don’t interfere in my life. Just go, I’m in the middle of something.” You ranted.
“Y/n language! Haven’t you seen Yoongi sitting right here? A guest is in the house and you’re talking to me like this?” Your brother glared. Yoongi just scoffs still head down.
“Let me clear this to you. Yoongi’s girlfriend kicked him out of there shared apartment. So, for few days or weeks he’ll be here with us until or unless there fight get resolved.” He said.
“None of my business though.” You rolled your eyes still focussing on the television screen.
Yoongi in his deep voice “we soon gonna be together again. Thanks Seokjin for giving me shelter.” Both of the boys then straight up walked into the rooms and you were there ending the last scenes.
From the starting years living with your brother Seokjin, you always met with all his friends. Yoongi was also one of them. But he was the one whom you talked the most in his group circle. Yoongi seems so calm and intelligent to your eyes. He was also a good listener while a great adviser. You both added each other in every social media platforms you were present. You almost talked with him daily the past years. But the sudden change that developed in him was still unknown to you. You didn’t get what ghosted him but this past few months he randomly stopped talking to you. No in person talks, no messages or neither calls. He even blocked you from all his social medias. You thought he was mad at you for something but you never get it for what. You tried asking him what’s the matter of not talking or having no contact with you randomly. But he never answered it in a right way. Neither did you exaggerated the matter. As told you were very picky about the people in your life. If somebody don’t want to have contact with you then it’s his loss. You’re always there to help anyone and everyone you know.
The very next day, you were excited to meet with your new crush Jimin. He’s new to your campus for few months and you both became good friends with eachother. He seems so cool to your eyes. Never did you think of dating anyone from your college but if it’s about Jimin then you can’t say no to it. He’s kind and fun guy to goof around. But the thing that make your heart flutter was his flirty side. The way he acts like he’s in love with you with all his picky lines on you. You can’t denied that you liked it, really every much. Your heart always pound whenever he goes all flirty with you. But you also can’t deny the fact that he seems flirty with all the other girls in the campus. Kind of like the new fuck boy in the college. Sad for you that at last you did fall for the flirty kid.
“ Jimin! How’s your day going bub?” You yelled at Jimin who was standing there flirting with some other girls.
“Y/n beautiful! You’re becoming more beautiful day by day.” Jimin walk up to and said.
“Ahh you boy! Shut up. Any plan for this weekends?” You asked.
“As you know our college last year gonna end in this month. So, I’m quite busy.” Jimin sighed.
“Yeah, but I’m excited for our graduation day. But Jimin I’m gonna confess something before our graduation day to you.” You whispered in his ears.
“Oh-okay. What’s it about can I ask?” Jimin hesitantly said.
“Meet me at the basket ball court at evening in this weekend. Okay?” You excitedly said.
“I-i will be there. But if anything necessary then you can tell me now.” Jimin asked.
“Patience Jimin. Don’t forget to come.” You winked at him and walk straight up to your house.
You were really happy that finally after taking a whole one year you now gonna confess to Jimin. Your heart saying that he gonna accept you but your brain already shown you some red flags. But you just ignored it. After denying for so long, now your feelings for him was strong and directive. You can sense it. Before the end of the graduation day you decide to confess the feelings. As you believe in ‘if you like someone, let them know how you feel for them’ philosophy.
You open the door of your living room, at your surprise a whole shirtless Yoongi was sitting at the couch watching his favourite football. His dark strands of hair was wet and a towel was hanging at his shoulders. The track pants which he was wearing was quite unrecognisable as the only thing you concentrated was on his pale smooth white skin. You can’t deny his beauty. He was unknowingly beautiful. His cheek bones, cat eyes and gummy smile. At the sound of the door he quickly trail his eyes on you.
You screamed “dress up, you naked man.”
Yoongi just rolled his eyes on you and put on his shirt and said “I’m not even naked. Haven’t you seen a shirtless man before?”
“S-sorry sir! But I’m not habituated to see a whole naked man in my house everyday.” You hesitantly exaggerated your words and sit at the corner couch.
“Then get habituated.” He said with a straight face almost focused on the sports.
You don’t seem to reply at his last words. Your eyes trail down to find your brother, who was nowhere in the house. You already figured it out again that he had gone to somewhere as most of the time he was not home when you came back from college.
“Have you seen my brother?” You asked Yoongi.
“I don’t know might me out of the home.” Yoongi said. Your inner brain was screaming that you also know that when Seokjin was not at home he was probably out of the house. You sighed at his words.
Hearing your frustrated sound, Yoongi looked at you and goes like “you can watch now, I’m good at the room.” And he get up from the couch and walked towards the room.
“hey! Yaa! Stop, you can watch. I’m not frustrated because of you. Come here.” You yelled at him.
Yoongi calmly come and sit at the exact spot. You were constantly looking at him but he say no to eye contact. With his baby eyes he was looking at the screen. The surrounding filled with the whistle of football match. You don’t know what to say to him. You were still thinking of starting a conversation but you don’t know how. But you want to ask that person beside you that why he was ignoring the hell out of you. You missed him, you accepted. Before even catching those feelings we cuts you off. You already added him in your good relationship bucket list. But he tend to follow the opposite both. Your eyes are kind of stuck at him without even realising.
Yoongi scoffs “you can stop staring. I’m feeling uncomfortable.”
His deep voice fetch you to the reality and you stumbled “umm.. i-i was just. S-sorry, can we talk?”
For the first time Yoongi’s eyes lands on you. You both made an eye contact for mili second until or unless Yoongi broke it. He goes “for what? I think I should go.”
“This is what I’m talking. Why did you just cut me off from your life, Yoongi. I mean what’s happened suddenly you stop talking to me?” You sighed.
“Is I’m not talking to you now?” Yoongi glared at you.
“You also know what I’m talking. You blocked me from every social media handles. Even you didn’t replied my texts. Why are you mad at me, Yoongi?” You said with a worried face.
“I was quite distrub from the past months. Might be because of that. We’re good.” Yoongi cleared it.
“No, we ain’t. The past months you only ignored me. I saw you attending each and every party. And you’re looking quite happy at that time” Your voice raised.
“Tell me, why you want to talk to me? Why you need me? Why you can’t resist me? Is you’re feeling for me? Do you wanna have something with me?” Yoongi screamed some unusual questions which you never thought of.
The question stuck to your head. When he asked you all this, you also questioned yourself. Why actually you want to talk to him. You realise you’re expecting something from. But it was also right your heart carries some part of love for him at that time might be now too. But the way Yoongi yelled at you, you’re expecting that.
“Min, are you okay? Is everything good? I know you and your girlfriend have a fight going on and I know how you feel. But that doesn’t mean you would shout at me like that.” You sighed.
“No, I’m not okay, y/n. I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t understand my feelings right now. My girlfriend is cheating on me at one hand and at another my feelings are growing for someone else. It feels like I’m cheating. But I ain’t a cheater, y/n.” Yoongi broke down. His deep voice mixes with some tearing emotions but he tried hard to not express.
Yoongi feels like he was the cheater because of you. The truth is he really likes you. That he can’t resist to talk to you. That whenever he saw you, he wants to wrap you around his body. Even when he have a girlfriend, you filled him with joy. Even having someone to love, he need you to be in love. You make him go crazy. But he knows it’s all wrong. That catching feelings for someone else instead of having a girlfriend is wrong. So, the best solution he found was to cut you off. Only for this reason he stopped talking to you. You feels like a complete stranger to him.
Still it didn’t work. At the times he talked to you he always stay happy and focussed but after cutting you off he seems sad most of the time. Also he feels so frustrating at times and fight with anyone and everyone he saw. That’s also a reason that after stop talking to you he and his girlfriend have fight most of the time. And after a long series of fighting and quarrelling with each other, his relationship becomes toxic as hell. He wants to scape out of the place. So, he did. But destiny have different plans, after pushing you so far. Atlast he came back at your arms only. Now, he was sitting beside you. You’re trying your best to confront him.
“Min, calm down. I’m here. I’ll not abandoned you. Tell me everything.” You quitely whispered in his ears while talking his hands on yours. His cold hands fit yours and it felt good.
“Thanks y/n. Sorry for everything I did to you. I’m the worst. I broke your heart and I also cheated on my girlfriend. Even though I know she was cheating on me since so long.” Yoongi calmly put his each word.
“No, you’re best. She’s cheating on you first. And feeling for someone else doesn’t make you cheater, Min.” You confronted him.
“You don’t understand. Right now in my life, I want somebody to hold be tight, to love me like I do and to protect me. No one in this earth loves me.” Yoongi frustrated and smack the pillow beside him.
You can’t hold how sad and frustrated he was that time. You never have seen him in like. He was broke, totally broke. You glanced at him and hugged his huge posture which was unstable. But with presence of your hugging body it get calm and the huge body turns down to small. He completely fitted between your arms. You patted his back, he didn’t argued to back off from the hug neither did he hold you back. You were just there holding him and confronting him. Seeing him like this you also got broke.
“I’m here, Yoongi. See, I’m holding you, loving you and even confronting you. Don’t even say those words. I care for you.” You said calmly still holding him in your arms like a baby.
His cologne smells like you’re in a mountain and forest. With each time going you like wrapped him around. He quietly sitting like a baby.
“Remember if the relationship is getting toxic, calls it a off. And if you like someone else and your feelings are genuine then let the person know it. Tell her that how much you feel for her. I know you will.” You geniunely said. He back off from your hug and nodded it a yes.
“And what if the person seems so close to me that knowing I like her, she’ll be surprised. And she also broke my heart.” Yoongi asked.
“I promise she’ll not. Just be brave and tell her your feelings. Not all people are heartbreaker like you.” You giggled to calm the situation down.
“You aren’t a heart break, huh?” Yoongi asked and you laughed at him.
As the atmosphere becomes a little lighter Seokjin your brother walks inside the room. Unknowingly you were around Yoongi’s arms and he was half heartedly hugging you. As your brother entered you both sit apart acting like nothing happens.
You glared at him and shouted “where were you brat?”
Seokjiin narrowed his eyes “language! You don’t need to know that. But let me tell you, for the rest of this week days you have to be alone as I’m leaving for a business trip.”
You excitedly said “really? Thank god! I’ll have my alone time now.” You love to be alone and as said you hated your nosy brother.
Seokjiin frowned “hold on girl! Don’t ever dare to think of bringing your boyfriend Jimin at this house.”
He then looked at Yoongi and goes “Min, can you please have an eye on my little sister. Don’t let her bring any boy.” Yoongi nodded but with a confusing face.
The last time your brother was not home, you bring Jimin and some of his other friends in your house. And to be honest it was a disaster. Next day your house smells like a pond of alcohol and smoking junction. Unfortunately your brother comes home at the wrong time and see all of those. He even saw how Jimin flirted with you and from then onwards he hated him.
You yelled “he isn’t my boyfriend.” But you slowly whispered to yourself “but he’ll be soon.”
“It’s better if he’s not. That boy is a dick. If you ran around him like that he surely gonna break your heart. Cut him off from your life.” Seokjiin said as packing his stuff.
“None of your buisness, brat. Have fun weekends. Me and Yoongi will also have fun.” You laughed devilishly.
Seokjiin moved all his clothes and necessary things in his suitcase and you say a bye to him. Well, sometimes you love your brother in real. But most of the time you hate him because of him being correct always. As for now, he already predicted that Jimin gonna broke your heart but you know Jimin really very well. He’s a sweetheart in your eyes who is so soft to broke anyone’s heart. This time you gonna prove your brother wrong by confessing Jimin. Your guts were telling you that your doing something right and should go on.
You two were alone in a house full of rooms. But it didn’t feel different as Yoongi entered in his room as soon as Seokjin left and you all visited your room to complete graduation studys. You were quite pressurized for the day but happy that you gonna confess to Jimin tomorrow. A perfect proposal you dreamt of . Long basketball court where you and he will be standing all alone and some butterflies kicking in your stomach.
Here Yoongi in his room ingrossed into his long fluffy blanket. His mind was full of you. He can’t stop thinking about you. All he need is you and you. His heart was playing some sort of games to go in your room and kiss your lips. When you were hugging me in the couch his eyes were constantly trailing down to your lips. He can’t resist his desire to kiss on that peach soft lips that taste like berries. He already know how you’ll taste. Your fragrance, soft skin, long finger, smooth hairs drives him crazy. It’s not like he was attracted to you for the first time . Whenever you come nearer to him, he can sense his hormones bobbing out of his nerves. He liked you, he knows. The only thing that stopping him was his bothered self. He wasn’t sure if you also feel the same, but he knows you feel the exact same. Without resisting his desires he got straight up from the bed and walk up to yours.
You were strolling down your eyes within the gigantic piles of pages right before you. He peep through the door to see your face. Your hair strands lacking his view and your frustrated face increases his rage. He liked you, he can’t see you like this. He does a sigh sound closing his eyes, which shifted your attention. You were no longer interested in your books but the person peeping you through the door interests you more.
You calmly open the door and whispered in his hear “do you need something, Yoongi?”
He got shuttered to your cat voice and stumbled “umm.. y-no. Actually you look so frustrated!”
You does a small laugh and said “graduation studies! It’s frustrating.”
He nodded his head looking at the floor and then said “if you’re okay, then we can watch some movies?”
You frowned your eyes in a playful manner “i can’t say no to you but -”
Yoongi intreuppted you “no buts. Living room in 10.” He turned to his room.
You chuckled on his cuteness. Well, if Jimin didn’t entered your life then Yoongi have been the one you would die on. You liked him from the every first of your college days. You haven’t met anyone as calm and as loyal as him. But presence of his girlfriend broke you down. You don’t want to interfere in his relationship. But as for now, he was in a verge of breaking up with his girlfriend. If you still have that active Yoongi loving bone in your body then you would have said everything to him. But fate have different plans.
The couch was cozy, the room was dark with various beam of light from television echoes. Freash buttery popcorn lined by your side. You were half lying on the couch beside Yoongi who was calmly looking at the movie you choosed. For sure you have your own romantic taste in movies. And he can’t say no to you. You were stealing some glance of him in the name of watching movie. He’s ethereal. You again felt the same butterflies when you used to talk to him. Again the feelings were kicking your stomach. You are liking it. Your sudden urge to touch him filled your heart but your mind keep debating about Jimin.
“Yoongi!” Your soft voice echoes the background.
He looked at you but his eyes were on your peack lips “umm…?”
“Are you liking this movie? If not then we can change it.” You hesitantly said.
“Loving it so far. Romance is never my thing but you made it mine now.” Yoongi softly chuckled again stick his eyes to the screen. But the one thing you don’t know that his focus never shifted from you. He also sees how badly you want him but no one makes a move.
“Can you pass me the blanket, Min?” You again grapped his attention. He gently took the blanket and cover your legs and torso. You both were just centimetres away. You shifted a little close to him to feel the heat. He smiled at you.
“Thanks, Min. You want the blanket?” You asked nervously. Without any hesitation he unfold the whole blanket and cover both you. You gently smiled at him. There was a big silence echoing your heart. You want to make the move to kiss him, to touch him and to play with his hairs. And that was when stopped when you actually did while there was a kissing scene going on .
You gently grapped his thighs and rubbed it slowly. “It’s cold here.” You slowly yet seductively said.
“Umm! Yes!” He nodded and pressed his cold hands on your bare legs. He also does the same thing you did.
But soon his hands trail upward inside from your loose shorts. He’s circling inside your inner things. His finger nails form a line in your inner thigh. You were loving that feeling. As soon as you put your hands out of his thighs, he makes a unsatisfied sound.
“Umm?” You looked at him innocently with a devilish thought. Both of your eyes met at once.
“Can I kiss you?” You hesitantly asked.
As soon as you ended the sentence his lips are already on your neck. This smooth lips does a great job in your bare neck area. He was gently kissing , devilishly sucking and you were pleasantly moaning his name. He kissed your collar bone and your pale skin turns to violet in seconds. He pressed you in the couch and lean over you. But you want his lips on yours.
The moment was made for Yoongi, he slowly takes his time to respond each and every moans of your. His lips were playing with your skin. Happily sucking each corner of your neck. Soon the realisation stuck him and he was now concentrating on your lips. Took a few times to glance at your lips while massaging your hair with one hand. He pressed his lips on your sharp jaw line. You were enjoying ever bit of it.
'Jimin’ this name echoed in your brain. That few minutes you can’t proceed, before you it was Yoongi but your heart his on Jimin’s hand. You can’t betray him like this. You have a deep feeling for him. You thought you were doing wrong, it was wrong. You can’t sleep with anyone like this. The realisation make you push Yoongi so hard.
He was at a verge of kissing your lips but the sudden push was unexpected for him. He got shuttered and hold the other side of the couch. He looks at you in a awe. You were looking at him in a deep guilt. Your face was telling you that it was wrong.
“What’s happened?” Yoongi innocently asked and came forward to you.
“Don’t touch me! It’s wrong.” You yelled at him as you run towards your room.
You heard him shout at you for what’s the matter or why you suddenly reacted like that as you’re the one you wanted all of this. But blaming and treating him like that, he felt so miserable. He realised that you ain’t the random hook up for only one night but he carries deep feeling for you. He should be sorry, he was wrong he accepted. But reacting like that was so astonishing for him.
Yoongi pushed your door and shouted for you. But there you were lying senselessly at your bed. Your face was pale and heart with a heavy weigh of guilt. You shouldn’t act like a kid. You wanted all of that, you started it and not him. You were wrong, but you haven’t the courage to tell him why you did that to him. Maybe tomorrow, you can tell him that Jimin was all over your head that time.
“Yoongi, can I explain this to you tomorrow. Please, leave me alone.” You yelled at him across the door.
Yoongi sighed “sure, I also have something to explain you. I can wait.” And he sadly walked at his room.
The whole night Yoongi’s mind keep on thinking about you. He can’t any more relay his feelings to himself. He needs to tell you what he feels for you. That he don’t think you as a one time hook up but a forever home. He decides to tell you his genuine feelings tomorrow as soon as you’re good to talk to him.
Tomorrow arrives, your guilt was eaten you up badly. Without wasting your time you walked to Yoongi’s room. You already prepared your words what you will tell him. That you like Jimin and that you can’t break his trust. Also you should be sorry for the last night because you make a move first but you were also the same person who weirdly ran off without saying anything.
“Yoongi! Can we talk?” You said glancing at the floor that shows you felt guilty.
He was still on his bed half asleep, in his rapsy voice “are you okay?”
“Y-ye.. n-no. I’m not. I really felt so bad for last night.” You stumbled.
“It’s completely okay. Consent is more important than anything. But -” Yoongi got intreuppted by you.
“No, I want to do. I mean I’m sorry. There is a reason why I didn’t want to have anything now with you.” You slowly mumbled.
“I understand. I’m good, don’t worry.” Yoongi yawned. You felt everything goes back that it use to and you left for your college. But the midway of his room Yoongi called you again.
“Excuse me, if you’re not in a hurry can I tell you something?” Yoongi was no more a half dead human but his tone shifted to seriousness.
“Sure, anything important?”
“Well, let’s have a sit. It’s important for me.” You sat at the edge of his bed.
“Oh! You okay?”
“Something is really eating me up, I don’t know how to tell you but I think I really feel attached to you. You does feel home. Always I think about you. You keep buzzing inside my head. I feel for you… Deeply.” Yoongi patiencely confronted everything. His eyes were glancing at your bracelet as he is bad at making eye contact.
Your eyes were no longer want to hide but you without blinking looked at his pale fluffy face. He like you, he mean he really feel for you, in real. The topsy turvey land appears infront of you. Just right now, you were going to confront to Jimin about his feelings and before that someone else did to you. The heart inside knows that Yoongi never jokes around, he say what he feels. But he still didn’t broke up with his girlfriend and what about those days when he completely cuts you off. You remembered all of this.
“Oh! I-i … Are you serious? You never even want to talk to me. You ignored me, remember?” You ranted angrily.
“Yes, I do ignore you but you know what’s the reason? I feel attracted to you, I can’t resist to talk to you, I always think about you and your little things hurts me easily. But I don’t want to cheat on my ex girlfriend so I simply say a goodbye. Though after all these months you can see where I’m!” Yoongi put over his point nonchalantly.
“Ah! Yoongi? You did all these because of some unfelt feelings! At last you need to tell me. But this is too late. I already feel for someone else.” You nervously ended your words.
“I understand but don’t you also feel the same way at some point? Don’t you also feel attracted towards me?” He passionately glance at you, his high voice pitch echoes all through his room.
“What if I used to do? Now, things are changed.” You screamed.
“Nothing changed. You still have feelings for me. Or else you would not want to fuck me!” The total atmosphere shifted into a peeaceful procession. Yoongi ranted the words which are harsh and real. You do feel the same way he does, but what about Jimin. God have a sinful duty to only designated single soulmate to oneself. You feel for true and you ain’t a traitor.
“Don’t you also? What are you doing at your so called friends house cause your girlfriend kick you out. And middle of your break up you’re hitting on your friend’s sister. Also trying your level best to make her fall for you.” You calmly stated. But your neurons are burning inside.
“And she’s falling for me? Isn’t she?” Yoongi in the heat of the debate flirtatiously walked up to you.
“Yes, she did. But I know I’m not a traitor like you. Now fuck off. Also today I’m gonna confess to Jimin. Pray that he also likes me. Now, good bye.” You pushed Yoongi out of your sight and walk up to the main door.
“May Jimin and you never meet again.” Yoongi chuckled at his words. You only rolled your eyes and left for college.
Fall of the darkness after a heavy heart break take lots of sadness. That numb cold weather with a wreaking heart gives shivering pain in your wholesome heart. You didn’t expected that, you never thought that but initially it happened. He said the most cruel words you never even thought he would know. You cried for the last time he did said 'goodbye’ not with a smiling innocent face but with a smug showing he played with your feelings. The words ’ I’d never even thought of you around my arms’ was spitted by Jimin. He betrayed you. But the last line stuck to your soul 'do you think I would let you suck my dick, y/n? Haven’t you seen yourself! You’re a pity. Go find someone else to do this shit. Good bye’ and he smirkingly ended your beautiful and hopefull day.
You cried under the dark and cold rainy evening. You just want to ran into your bed and cried for hours that you’re wrong. The heavy rain drenched all your clothes and you. Without waiting for the bus you walked down all the street still numb and overthinking in your head. No one loves you right now, whom do you want to live for? Under the nature’s water your own tears vanished.
It take no time to measure your home distance. You shut the door so loudly that you also got out of those painful thought. You are broke, your heart is. The pain has no bounds. The drenched clothes can’t match your drenched soul. Already the winter rain is eating you up but you need more coldness to be out of this burning world. You cried loudly sitting at the couch. Hearing you Suga came and look a glance at you. He didn’t said anything, just standing there quietly like observing your intentions. You felt his glance, you looked at his pale face with your small eyes. You wanted him to ask you about the pain you’re feeling, about the situation you’re in and about everything which breaks your heart. But you don’t why your heart beating and wanting him to console you. You aren’t about this side of yours. Your feelings are confused more than numb.
’ Aren’t you gonna ask me anything?’ you screamed in your teary voice.
Suga smiled ’ umm! I can see the rejection on your face.’
'shut the hell up. Everything happens because of you. I - I’ you screamed but the ending of your sentences vanished on your heavy crying voice.
Suga walk up to you and sit beside you ’ I understand everything. No need to cry this happens with everyone.’
’ Suga, if you don’t know how to console someone then it best to shut your pity mouth.’ you aggressively pushed him away.
’ Wow girl, is it so? In the morning you also broke my heart in the same way. You don’t know how much I care for you, how much I need you now. But you! You just spit some cruel words and not even regretting. This is how you feel when someone broke your heart.’ Suga bashed on you.
You look dumbfound. You’re processing everything he said but you realized he ain’t right. You need to correct him. 'Why’d you came in my life? Huh! I was so happy without talking to you after you stop talking. I do have feelings for you and you clearly know each and everything. You broke my heart first. And again when I’m finally good with a boy, you came back. You don’t know how much you broke my feelings internally from a long time. And you’re giving me this fucking reason?’ you finished and ran to your room and lock yourself under the cold shower.
Suga just for a whole minute hear your words again. He can’t processed that you liked him before even he does. And the fact that you still have feelings for him. His heart got flutter and a pound of sadness hugs his heart. He felt guilty of treating you like that. But he no more wants to be a heartbreaker. He wants to prove you that he loves you, a lot. And want to promise you that he ain’t like those flirty brat to goof around. He’s the sky of your earth that’s permanent and no one else is allowed here.
He ran towards your room and screamed at the top of his lungs when he can’t see you there 'y/n, I’m sorry!’ You heard his voice but weeped under the shower. Your voice is enough to know where are you. He opened the door of the wash room and saw you under the shower with all your drenched clothes.
'Y/n, what’s wrong? You will get cold.’ he softly said and came towards the shower the knob.
'just get out, Suga. Leave me alone.’ you screamed.
'calm down, let me turn the shower off.’ he said softly as he lean towards you to turn it off.
You pushed him ’ can’t you hear me, leave me alone .You brat!’
Suga tilt a little but he pushed you against the shower wall and pinned you down “shut up. I told you I’m here for you.’ he said in his low cold voice which spend shiver down your spine. You both got drenched in that cold water. The shower is still on and you’re numb by Suga’s dominance.
You look at his fierce eyes and broke down 'I-I am hurt. I don’t want anything.’ He still pinned you down the wall.
He said 'You want me. Don’t you?’ and looked in your eyes.
You’re feelings are peeping out and you can’t withstand the man before you. The gorgeous, tall and broke man said enough to console your feelings. Your eyes can’t resist those plum lips to kiss on. He’s unknowingly hot and you accepted it. You tiptoed and kissed him while your tears are still all over your face.
Suga is deep down kissing you and your whole sad soul. You loved it, you geniunely did. The kiss was intense and passionate. His hands trail down to your head and lean you more to have a perfect kiss which he was imagining for years. Out of breath you broke the kiss and sighed. He himself lean down and put both of your forward together. You both heavily breathed and smiled at each other.
"Thanks.” Suga calmly said.
You look at him with love in your eyes and “I’m not stopping with just a kiss. I’d been thinking about this for over years. Now, that you’re here, I can’t leave you. Just tell me you also carry that deep feelings for me.”
He paused for a moment and complete silence surronds that freezing cold shower leaving you both a hot mess. You again think about doing something nonsense.
Suga take a deep breath “ Y/n, I feel you’re the one I have been loosing for years because you were always there for me to find you. But I never took initiative to find you. Please I really do li- like you. Do-dont ever leave me.”
He stutters and hugged you so hard. The moment filled you with joy but often reality strikes everyone so hard. Under the shower, two humans both in love with eachother having a special moment yet the bang in door wakes both of you up.
Suga hesitantly look outside the shower door to look if anyone was there but again doorbell rang and to both of your surprises, it’s Seokjin.
You are still figuring out if telling your brother about you and Suga is a good option.
yoongi doesn’t like christmas that much; but he loves you—that much
GENRE.fluff, smut
WARNINGS. christmas decorations bc we know how stressful it can get lol!!, Yoongi’s POV!, yoongi is a teasing lil shit, yoongi is also deeply in love, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cockwarming (ish?)
NOTE. i miss our back-burner couple even if it hasn’t been that long here’s them being the cutest ever. this takes place a year after the epilogue so some time has passed!!! there may be some plot/logical conflicts but we move LOL
hope you enjoy this Christmas gift to ya’ll also…some talks about will be seen in this drabble…which foreshadows future drabbles…hehehehheehhehehehehehe
(the back-burner couple will never leave us I love them too much)
WORDS.6.2k
“To the left.”
Yoongi shifts, just a little because he’s anticipating another—
“No, you idiot! My left—not yours!”
And there it was.
“Love,” he sighs, and if he was any more observant maybe he’d notice how you preen ever so slightly at the term of endearment. “It looks fine. No one is going to notice if the star is point five millimetres off centre.”
You blink.
“So you admit it’s off-centred?”
Yoongi opens his mouth to refute your rebuttal, but it’s left to no avail when you wave him off, equally annoyed and frustrated when you gesture for him to step off the step ladder that enabled him to reach the top of your overly-ostentatious Christmas tree.
Yoongi’s spent a few Christmas’ with you, though they were nothing extravagant. It’s the first year that the both of you were really celebrating with each other, learning about the other’s quirks and requirements when it came to the annual celebration. Based on previous occasions, you weren’t quite particular with where decorations went, or what colour theme you ought to follow.
The thought, while exasperating on its own, still brings a semi-fond smile on his face that he hides so that you won’t nag at him for finding your vexation amusing. It was more that he finds himself settling into a sense of comfort that you finally allowed yourself to do what you like—with him.
“I can do it, you know,” Yoongi sighs, folding his arms across his chest as he leans against the wall next to the tree.
You’ve already replaced him on the step-ladder, hands busying themselves with manoeuvring the star on the top of the tree with snipers precision. Yoongi wasn’t even sure if the ornament was moving with how careful you were being with it, and the look of concentration on your face tells him that you weren’t listening to him. By choice.
“Please pay attention to your surroundings so you won’t fall and die,” he says blandly, “I’d be quite heartbroken if you did.”
You shoot him a snarky look, “Quite?”
Yoongi’s lips twitch in amusement when he sees you puff out in annoyance, an indignant pout on your face when you edge your head backwards briefly to observe the apparent angle of the star.
“Very,” Yoongi corrects himself with a small laugh before he makes his way behind you.
You were too focused on frowning at the inanimate object to notice his presence, more concerned about finding a way to telepathically connect with the star so it’d be your puppet and perch itself into a position up to your standards.
You were stubborn. Yoongi knew that. It was one of your few quirks that he accepted, knowing that it was never as harmless as people made it out to be. He’s learnt—known—that you were a little rough around the edges, but you were pure. Someone who needed someone else with a little more patience to understand the edges that carved out the beautiful, and unadulterated version of yourself.
So, when Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist to lift you off the step-ladder—you squeal. Then, you whine. And then it’s a thwack to Yoongi’s shoulder (the right one because as much as Yoongi has told you that he’s fully healed, you never wanted to leap over that barrier—it was endearing) as he laughs at your chagrin.
“Put me down!” you demand with a hiss, “Yoongi! Stop laughing!”
“No,” he says, and he’s glad he can’t catch the daggers you were shooting at him since you were facing forward. “Let’s take a break.”
“That implies the both of us were working,” you say dryly, “You stood on a step-ladder for five minutes. Yay. Would you like a medal?”
Yoongi huffs, “I—”
“God, the bar is so fucking low,” you mutter under your breath.
Before Yoongi can say anything to that, he tosses you onto his couch, earning an equally loud shriek at the way your body makes contact with the plush surface.
When he stands above you, you’re glaring at him so vehemently that your expression may as well as telling him to dig his own hole to get buried in.
“A half an hour break won’t hurt,” Yoongi smiles, kneeling down to reach your eye level as you scoff. Your arms are folded across your chest petulantly, pointedly avoiding the way Yoongi attempts to catch your gaze.
Yoongi rests a hand on your knee, squeezing the flesh as you pretend like it wasn’t doing anything to you. Frankly, Yoongi couldn’t tell with the way you were stubbornly clenching your jaw in vexation as you stare at the entrance of his apartment as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.
You did this often. Get annoyed with Yoongi, stay silent; sulk; pretend like you were mad (maybe you were, but Yoongi likes to think you’re softer than you acted), and wait until Yoongi started to grovel.
Yoongi almost laughs, a smile threatening to make its way onto his face when the routine refreshes itself in his mind. If you were anyone else, he’d leave them on their own until they cooled down enough to listen to him, whether they agreed or not. But you were you, and as much as you exasperated him—he was a man in love. He was putty, and you had him wrapped around your finger whether you were aware of it or not.
Another squeeze and he notes you jolt ever so slightly, knees parting on instinct. He wants to smirk but he knows you’ll start cursing him out again.
“Sweetheart,” Yoongi murmurs, fully knowing that it was your favourite name. Gosh, you were unpredictable and predictable at the same time. Your nose twitches. Yoongi smiles. Score.
“The tree looks beautiful,” he reassures softly, thumb rubbing a soothing circle under your knee. He wasn’t lying. You did have an eye for things like this while Yoongi was rather simple. He appreciated aesthetics but didn’t place it as a priority. He valued company over outlook—but with you, he’d get both. “The house looks beautiful. You did a really great job at decorating.”
A shift. Your chest was slightly facing him despite your gaze still being trained to his front door.
You needed to hear these things. Yoongi knew that. You liked hearing that you were doing a good job, seeing the approving smile on Yoongi’s face even if he thought you didn’t need his approval. Who was Yoongi to deny you the everlasting truth he holds?
“You deserve a break,” he says softly, inching closer until he’s kneeled between your parted thighs, catching your dubious expression when he smiles up at you. “Let me take care of you, hm?”
“We need to finish the decorations,” you deadpan, voice impressively stable when you glare down at him.
Your legs make space for him.
“After.” He cocks his head to the side in a way that you claimed made him look cocky. But hot. Apparently. “No one’s coming over until 8 PM.”
“It’s five-forty, Yoongi,” you huff, flailing your arms to gesture towards the analogue clock on his coffee table.
“And Jungkook doesn’t know early even if it hit him in the face,” Yoongi snorts, hands now rubbing slowly up and down your thighs. You curse under your breath, something about wearing sweats instead of the shorts you were dawning. Yoongi’s not complaining. Easy access.
“Jimin said—”
“Jimin too,” Yoongi says quickly, almost huffing at the mention of the intern-turned-resident. You’ve taken a liking to his apprentice, and while Yoongi wasn’t…possessive, Jimin had a crush on you and Yoongi—well, he was your boyfriend; your partner—he was allowed to be sceptical!
(Jimin was nothing but polite to you, but the cheeky looks he’d shoot Yoongi when you weren’t looking tells him that Yoongi’s downfall was amusing to him.)
“What if Hobi comes early—?”
“I’ll tell him to fuck off,” Yoongi replies curtly.
You flick him against his forehead as he winces. You glare down at him, knuckle still pressed against his forehead so he couldn’t get any closer when you realise that he was edging closer to where he wanted to be.
“Haerin? Namjoon? You know they offered to help,” you remind.
“Namjoon would understand the innate need of a man to ravage his girlfriend in his own home,” Yoongi says.
A pretty flush appears on your cheeks as your jaw slackens. You always said Yoongi was too much. But he doesn’t think you know. Know just how much more he wants to give you—the world; the universe—all the multiverses out there if they existed.
“You’re so annoying,” you seethe.
“Okay,” he shrugs, then he shoots you a small grin. The ever soft tilt of his lips makes your features soften ever so slightly. “Now are you going to stop pretending like you’re mad at me and let me take care of you?”
“Iam mad,” you snap weakly, fingers darting out to grasp at his shoulder when he suddenly pushes your thighs apart with his hands. “We’re supposed to be decorating—!”
“You know for someone who seems to really like Christmas, you’re very grumpy,” Yoongi teases.
You gawk at him. “I’m not grumpy! I just want the decorations to be perfect—!”
“And it is.” Yoongi presses a kiss to your inner thigh, arms wrapping around your thighs as he tugs you forward. You yelp, bum on the edge of the seat as he grins up at you so widely as if you were the one doing him a favour.
You were. Every day. Being with him. Staying by his side despite the hectic year the both of you had. And you were here, in his home, a plane ride away from the home you called yours.
(“Merry Christmas,” you had said shyly, turning up on his doorstep when he blinked at you. Shocked. Stunned.)
“What if someone—” you mumble, nibbling on your lips as Yoongi can’t help but smile at you. It seems like the only thing you can evoke out of him is happiness; apparent in his expression too.
“We’ll deal with it later,” he reassures you gently. Then, he peers up at your eyes when you finally decide to grant him the liberty of looking into your gaze. “Now, I want you to sit there and let me service you. Got it?”
“Don’t say it like that,” you mutter.
“Always telling me what to do,” Yoongi huffs, shaking his head as his fingers reach towards the band of your shorts, teasing. Featherlight. He feels the goosebumps raise on your skin as you narrow your eyes menacingly at him. “Relax for me, okay?”
“Don’t tell me to relax,” you snark.
Yoongi smiles. You were so stubborn. Noisy, when you didn’t need to be. He’d need you to be quiet, and he knew exactly how to get you that way.
Your fingers are still on his shoulders, and Yoongi takes a second to turn his head, pressing a soft kiss to your right knuckle. You pinch his neck, but it’s so light that it feels like a love tap. It probably is, because when Yoongi looks up with a pointed look, all you do is huff like the petulant Princess you were.
He pulls your shorts down, greeted with the bare sight of your pussy, already glistening with your wetness. He smirks to himself. You could play this facade as much as you’d like, but Yoongi knew you and your body like the back of his hand. He learned every bit of who you were; loved every bit of who you were—he knew.
“This isn’t a reward,” you warn, hands going to clutch at the strands of his hair.
Yoongi laughs, tugging you closer until he was eye level with your pretty pussy. Before you can yell at him for laughing at you—annoyed—he dips his head, tongue darting out to catch the drop of wetness that threatens to fall to the couch beneath you.
You gasp, a sound Yoongi’s well-acquainted with and even less tired of. He’d have you moaning for him every single second of the day if he had it his way. But you were ambitious, a lady with dreams and he respected that. He’d service you, day and night, every minute—anytime. He’d settle for these moments.
“Yoongi…” you say breathlessly, legs twitching when he hooks a knee over his shoulder for better leverage.
“Taste so good,” he whispers against your mound, tongue dragging up your slit to collect all your wetness towards your swollen pearl. When his appendage drags against the bud, your back arches, sensitive as ever and just how Yoongi likes you.
“Don’t tease,” you scowl, voice shaky when you tug at his hair.
“Me?” He feigns innocence, pulling away to shoot you a lopsided smirk as you glare at him, cheeks already flushed. Yoongi feels all the blood rush to his cock just by looking at your beautiful (yet, angry) face. “I’d never.”
Yoongi decides to spare you the wait, leaning in and wrapping his lips around your clit as you gasp, legs almost snapping shut. He keeps them spread, palm digging into the meat of your thighs as he laps against your sodden folds, your clit—swirling and pressing like he wanted to imprint himself upon your skin forever.
Yoongiloved giving head. To you. He never divulged his sex life with any of his co-workers, with the exception of Namjoon (and even then, the details were very sparse because your business wasn’t his—and he didn’t want anyone else to know just how amazing you were). But he’s heard stories of men who weren’t so keen on giving head, claiming that it wasn’t as satisfying as being on the receiving end.
Yoongi would always keep his opinions to himself but the eye roll remained. They were selfish lovers. Period.
Even if that was the case, Yoongi thinks you must’ve done some magic on him because anything you did, any little reaction you gave him—aroused him. He was insanely attracted to you, attuned to your body like a snake to fiddle and he could almost laugh at how whipped he was. Having you this way, spread out so pliantly for him, pussy clenching around nothing as your bud pulses against his tongue—was his definition of sexual gratification.
“Y-Yoongi—,” you mewl, legs clamping against his ears as he feels you shudder under his ministrations.
God, you were so fucking sexy. Your breathless moans, the way your fingers wrap themselves tighter around his strands of hair to ground yourself; the half-lidded gaze you shoot him from above like an angel peering over her people—you were so tantalising and Yoongi couldn’t get enough of you.
Then, powered by his devotion, Yoongi delves in deeper and sucks on your clit like he was on a mission to suck the soul out of your body. A high pitched sob escapes your lips, your legs vibrating by the side of his face as he smiles into your sodden cunt, feeling the way your hole pulses uncontrollably.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” you chant, voice hoarse when you do juxtaposing actions—your hands pushing him away when he feels you shake under his actions, and your legs keeping his head firmly put where he wants to be. Either way, Yoongi wasn’t going to stop until you were coming.
“That’s it,” he encourages with a smirk. And to seal the deal, he adds two fingers—quick because he knows you can take it—and curls them up until it hit the spot that made you—
“Yoongi!” His name sounds like heaven when it rolls off your tongue and he’s so hard that it almost hurts. But he’s on a mission to get you off. A reward for himself despite your earlier warning, and an act that fits into the context of gifting season.
You cum. Loud. Wet. Messy. The sounds are so obscene when Yoongi slurps against your oversensitive cunt, your hands weakly pushing his head away with a breathless whine when he continues to lap at the honey that pours out. You taste so good that Yoongi’s head is a little hazy. Your wetness is smeared all across the bottom half of his face and he couldn’t have had it any other way.
When he pulls away, he feels fucked out—and he watches the way your chest heaves up and down in exertion when you stare at him with a dumbfounded expression.
“What the hell,” is all you say. He knows it was good, and he gives you a parting kiss to your thigh before he pushes himself up.
“Tis’ the season, sweetheart,” he smiles.
You gape at him, your eyes boring into his skull as if you were attempting to regain some sense of consciousness. But before Yoongi can ask, you’re pulling him down onto the couch with you, and with wobbly legs—you perch yourself on his lap.
“You can’t just do that and not give me your dick,” you deadpan.
Yoongi blinks, then he bursts out laughing. His shoulder shakes when you continue to glare at him, both in annoyance and in desire.
“Thought we needed to get back to decorating,” Yoongi throws your own words back to you as your face morphs into a scowl, brows furrowed in a way that tempts Yoongi into brushing his thumb in-between them to placate your expression.
“Now you want to decorate?” you scoff, hands resting on his shoulders as his own naturally find their way to your waist, squeezing the flesh that’s bare of clothes with the way your sweater has ridden up.
“Someone once told me that the decorations needed to be perfect,” he shrugs noncommittally, thumb rubbing against your skin as he feels you shudder under his touch.
“Well that someone wants you to fuck her,” you snap.
“I have a girlfriend so I don’t think she’d be too happy about that.”
You roll your eyes, and Yoongi feels all the more accomplished when he spots the quirk of the corner of your lips at his silly statement.
“At least I know you won’t go run off with some lady,” you huff as your hands are busy with the drawstring of his sweats, already palming his hardened length over the fabric.
Yoongi’s breath hitches, feeling the heat in his body travel to his lower region with the way your tinier hands engulf his cock over his sweats like second nature.
You looked so pretty like this. Your hair was slightly matted down after your shower when you left it to air-dry, and there’s the semi-permanent frown on your face that he always jokes about being good for pre-mature wrinkles—but it’s you. The same girl, woman, he’s loved since he was eighteen. Now, the both of you were older, and finally together.
It’s funny how things in life worked out sometimes.
“Never,” he grins widely, one hand retreating from your waist to stop you before you can get your hands under his sweatpants—even if his cock was dying for some form of friction, already riled up after witnessing your orgasm.
“Yoongi,” you whine with a pout, “We don’t have time!”
Yoongi smirks. “Then we can go back to decorating.”
You frown at him, and he spots the way your eyebrow twitches as he stifles his laughter.
“I don’t want to decorate now,” you sniff, “I want to sit on your dick.”
“Come on, has chivalry really died?” he muses, “Where’s my kiss?”
“I’m a lady, Min Yoongi,” you say with narrowed eyes, and Yoongi’s indulging in the way your cheeks flush a deeper shade.
“What happened to modern-day feminism?” Yoongi chuckles, voice lifting into a tease as you gawk at him.
Even if he was hard beyond belief, he enjoyed sharing moments like these with you. When you were you, and he was him. Where all your conduct and expectations were knocked over whenever you were with him; the little snarks that you’d throw at him when Yoongi would poke at your buttons. It’s a dynamic that’s always existed between the both of you—a push and pull that he’ll never get tired of.
“Are you seriously going to equate me not initiating a kiss as proof of how chivalry has died when you menwere—!”
But, Yoongi’s still a man, as you loved to remind him whenever he’d annoy you a little more than usual. And despite the way he loves having you like this—he wants to be inside of you, to fill you up to the brim and feel your heat envelop him like you were made to take him.
So, Yoongi wraps his thumb and index finger around your chin to swoop you in for a kiss, pressing his lips tightly—yet with warmth—against your own, feeling the way you immediately melt into his touch.
“I’m teasing,” he reminds lightly, still murmuring the words against your lips.
“You’re so annoying,” you say breathlessly, and then you’re pushing back onto him until his back hits the back of the sofa.
You waste no time getting him out of his sweatpants, haphazardly tugging the material down until it pools under his thighs as opposed to getting it fully off of him. As expected, you were on a time crunch and you were a woman on a mission.
“Use your hand,” he directs, leaning back to enjoy the way you take charge even if it’s just for a moment.
You lift yourself off his lap ever so slightly to wrap your hand around his shaft, eliciting a hiss from Yoongi when he feels you squeeze the base of his cock. Yoongi usually took control in the bedroom even if it wasn’t a fixed role. Naturally, you took control in most aspects of your life and even in the dynamics of your relationship—so you often allowed Yoongi full reign over your sexual reprieve. Yoongi didn’t have a preference but it would be a lie to not admit that seeing all the ripostes filled with fire die on your lips when you sought for his commands—his validation—was enthralling.
“Slowly. Just the tip,” he continues, voice strict as he sees the way your lower lip juts out in potential defiance. He shoots you a look. A warning. He wonders if you’ll decide to disobey today.
“It’ll fit,” you whine, “You always fit.”
Yoongi hides his groan well. His eyes flutter shut ever so slightly when he feels himself lose control when the tip of his cock breaches your fluttering pussy. He’s been inside of you enough times, but every time is a new experience. He’d never get tired of the pop that it makes when he passes the threshold, the gasp that you and he let out as if you were synced to each other.
“Patience,” he says with a small smirk, thumb rubbing against your cheek when your teary and desperate eyes peer up at him. “Sink down just a little for me.”
You do, and he feels more of your heat engulf him as his other hand squeezes around your waist. God, the way you were pulsing around him makes his head spin. But the way you squirm above him is even better. So, he holds out a little bit longer, taking every bit of self-control to not fuck upwards until you were putty in his arms.
“Yoongiplease,” you mewl, forehead dropping onto his shoulder as he laughs. The vibrations cause you to let out a breathy whimper when his cock jostles ever so slightly in your cunt. You wrap your arms around his shoulder, clinging onto him as if he was your last lifeline.
“Doing so well for me,” he croons, tracing his fingers up and down your spine as you shiver. “Last bit for me, love. You can take it.”
“I can,” you warble, finally sheathing his cock deep in your cunt as you let out a sinful gasp, head was thrown back when he’s nestled deep in your pussy. You didn’t top often, mostly because Yoongi was so big that it made you feel so whole—according to you. But when you did, Yoongi knows it’s an experience that the both of you want to replicate, over and over.
You don’t move, your manners impeccable when you await his commands. Yoongi knows that you know that he’d never really punish you for disobeying him. But he knew that you liked this—liked waiting for the green light; liked the way that Yoongi controlled your actions that delivered mind-numbing pleasure.
You rest your hands on his chest, and he slowly palms your waist—then the underside of your breast, and finally your mounds as you remain still on his cock.
He slips off your sweater with ease, no dragging it out—nothing particularly sexy about it. Almost intimate when the two of you share a smile. Soft and warm. Just like Christmas. Just like this moment.
“Thank you for coming,” Yoongi whispers, suddenly feeling sentimental. Really, he always felt this way around you. An overwhelming sense of feeling that he needed to get off his chest. He never knew he could be as expressive as he is, not until you were his, and him—yours. “Thank you for decorating my home. For inviting everyone over to spend the holidays with us.”
You flush. You’re not usually this shy. But you hide your face ever so slightly when you duck your head down.
“You don’t need to thank me,” you mumble. It’s intimate; the way his cock is firm inside your cunt—hard as a rock—as you possess the ability to rock forward and bring the both of you home. The both of you choose not to, just for a second. “I never got to celebrate Christmas like this. It’s…nice.”
You say the last part quietly, voice hushed in a whisper as Yoongi shoots you a small smile. When you look up, your cheeks are so flushed that he’s tempted to tease you. But you squeeze his shoulders, a nervous habit whenever you felt like you were about to go on a ramble. Yoongi knows this, so he waits.
“Christmas wasn’t fun,” you tell him, “My parents never really cared for the holidays. And Haerin…well, we weren’t close. You were the only one that really paid attention to me so…I wanted to do this right.”
Yoongi’s heart clenches at your soft tone, almost as if it was your inner-child speaking and not you. You rest your cheek against his chest as he holds you tighter to his body.
“I’m sorry for being so…anal about this,” you wince, “It’s just—I want this Christmas to be perfect. And I want things to look pretty so we can take loads of pictures for memories.”
“You know this Christmas is already perfect because you’re here with me, don’t you?” Yoongi finally speaks up, the words uttered into your hair as you scoff.
You pull away, the you that he’s always known slightly returning as you narrow your eyes at him.
“Don’t be such a cheeseball,” you say with a scrunch of your face, “You know what I mean! It’s our first Christmas together and I want it to be special! And you think the star is fine when it’s clearly off-centred! You know—I really hope our kids don’t inherit that habit of yours because—”
Yoongi freezes, his hands stilling against your waist as his eyes blow out wide. You’re still rambling, going off your mini tirade. Your mouth is moving but he can’t really piece out anything except for the fact that you took a one-eighty and was now calling him an idiot, along with some other words that he’s gotten way too used to.
Kids.
Ourkids.
Yoongi’s heart seizes in his chest, and he can already picture it. Years from now. Or even a year. Who knows—fuck, he doesn’t care but he can see it. Christmas Eve. You’re decorating the tree again, and Yoongi isn’t helping you because your daughter—or your son—or both—is helping you. They’ve inherited your stubbornness that takes years of Yoongi’s life away, but also your livelihood, the energy that brings you so far—and it makes his life brighter.
He sees the matching sweaters, a cheesy tradition that he never liked until this picture came to mind. He sees the hot chocolate; the whipped cream moustache that he doesn’t tell you about so he can snap a picture. Fuck. He sees it all—and suddenly, he needs to—”
“—like I know it’s not that deep but it is! The star was off-centred, and it’s obvious—” You don’t finish your words because Yoongi’s planting his feet against the floor, and hands around your waist, before he’s thrusting upwards.
“Fuck!” you squeal, caught off guard by the sudden force that knocks the air out of your lungs. But Yoongi’s delirious, the visual in his mind never leaving when he continues to fuck upwards, deep into your sodden pussy as you let out cries of pleasure at his ministrations.
“You want my kids?” His voice is uncharacteristically soft for someone who’s holding you so tight to his body, thrusting his shaft deeper and deeper into your hot walls as you cling onto him for support.
“I-Is that what—fuck—you got from what I said?” you snap, but he knows you’re flustered. You’re glaring at him, but your mouth falls into a pretty little ‘o’ when Yoongi pulls you down on his cock at the same time he thrusts upwards.
“Tell me,” he grunts, feeling the way your cunt clenches around his length as he lets out a low groan. You moan a high-pitched sound that he freezes to memory as one hand releases your hips to tilt your chin up so that you were looking at him. “Tell me you see it too.”
“Y-Yoongi, shit, fuck,” you babble on, mewling incoherencies as your eyes meet his manic ones. The sound of skin slapping against the skin is obscene, and the Christmas music you were playing earlier is muted by how loud you’re getting, along with the squelches of your cunt.
“Tell me,” he growls, “Do you see it? Christmas morning? With me? With kids?”
You squeal when another hand leaves your hips to play with your clit. The arms around his shoulder are the only things keeping you rooted in position as your eyes pierce into his own. You felt so fucking good around him that he feels himself already losing it—but he needed to know. He needed to hear it from you.
“I-I—” You’re struggling with your words because Yoongi’s fucking you so hard and fast that it’s a little hard for him to think too.
“Fuck, I’ll give you kids, all right,” he snaps, bringing your lips to him and captures it in a blazing kiss. You moan into his mouth when he bites on your lower lip, all while he speeds up the finger working against your clit. It’s pulsing. It’s wet. You were close—he could feel it. “I’ll give you everything you want. A home. A family. The world.”
“F-Fuck, Yoongi,” you sob, “I’m going—I’m gonna cum, please, please—”
“Shit, I’m so—” Yoongi laughs tightly against your mouth, the both of you breathing into each other as he shoves his cock upward and stays there for a beat longer as you let out a garbled moan. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
You pull away to give him a tired but satiated smile. “I-I’ve—ah—heard.”
“Look at me,” he whispers, hips still working upwards as he finally feels your vixen-like grip around his shaft. A guttural moan leaves his lips, his eyes shutting in a moment of weakness before they’re open again—only to see your gaze falling onto his own.
“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands, and suddenly—like magic—you’re clamping down on him as you convulse around his cock, legs shaking and body shuddering.
Somewhere in the midst of your orgasm, your shaky fingers find their way in-between Yoongi’s ones. You grip his hand so tightly, and he feels the press of the ring he promised you a year ago bite into his skin. It drives him crazy—crazy enough that he continues rubbing at your clit through your climax. Yoongi cums with you, hot spurts with a promise painting your inner walls as you cry out his name.
Your sweaty bodies are pressed together when you attempt to catch your breath. Your hand is still squeezing Yoongi’s, and he doesn’t intend on letting go either. He feels his cum leak out of your cunt when he begins to soften. You don’t make an effort to move, only rests your head against his shoulder as he feels your chest heave.
The two of you stay there. He’s not sure for how long, but it feels nice having you against him like this. He should probably pull out and clean up the mess before guests actually start arriving while the two of you were anything but presentable. You’d probably yell at him for dragging you into this. And he’d let you, every—single—time.
“Love,” he murmurs, wondering if you’d fallen asleep. You got tired after sex, and while he wanted to let you rest—he didn’t have an eye for aesthetics like you did. He didn’t want to burn twice. But his curiousity—his desire—still wins. “Were you serious?”
He feels your body stiffen ever so slightly before it relaxes. He helps your body upright so that he could see your face when he got an answer. He could wait; he knew people said things during sex that didn’t really translate into their daily lives. He just needed confirmation.
“I…”
“I was serious,” he adds on softly, brushing hair away from your cheek when he pulls your face closer, nose brushing against your own. “I’ll give you anything you want. And if you want…”
“I do,” you mumble shyly, looking away. “I want…kids. With you.”
Yoongi feels his heart soar, and he really can’t stop the wide grin that appears on his face when you snuggle into his chest, playing with his fingers as you look anywhere but his face.
“I mean obviously we’d have to be married first but I still want kids,” you say quickly, almost childishly as if you were hinting at something.
Yoongi smiles, looking down at you as if you had painted the star in the sky for him.
“Obviously,” he reiterates with a teasing grin. “You just got to be patient.”
You huff, opening your mouth to say something before you decide against it. “No public proposals. I don’t want to break your heart in front of an audience.”
Yoongi hides his laugh. “Okay. Thank you for your consideration.”
“And…” you continue, words muffled with the way your cheek is pressed against his chest. “Nothing gaudy.”
“Got it,” he nods. He knew that. Of course, he did. But hearing it from you, speaking as if your future together was absolute—made him softer around the edges. The way he’s like only when he was with you.
“But don’t make me wait forever! I waited this long to…” you trail off, sheepish. “…to be with you…and I don’t want to wait too long. If not I’ll be infertile. And old. And ugly.”
God, Yoongi’s heart was going to burst. He can’t help the laughter that bubbles inside his chest as you scowl at him with an annoyed glare.
“Whatever happens, I’ll never leave you,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the peak of your cheekbone as you sniff, pleased. “You got to try a lot harder than that.”
“You better not,” you warn, hugging him tighter.
A beat. Yoongi’s heartbeat—he’s sure you heard.
Then:
“I love you,” Yoongi says.
You smile into his chest.
“I love you too,” you murmur, shy.
Just as you’re about to lean up to press a kiss against his lips, his phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a surprise that it’s managed this far through your escapades. He shoots you an apologetic expression as he fishes for his device.
When he slides open his notification, he’s already bracing for another round of expletives from you.
From: Kim Namjoon
Haerin and i are 5 minutes away. hope our presence can help w the decorations lol
Also, dw, ___ is scary but at least you’ll have back-up
