#yoongi x you

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

Sat, 22 May 2021 10:01:16

dionysus ii, m | myg

sister story to dionysus, m | jjk x reader x male OC

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x male OC

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.

“You are crazy, ack, alright, fine, fine, stop – oh, fuuuuuuuck…”

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.

dionysus iii

20210924 drabble
trust you (myg x male wiyllt)

–

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

drabbles masterpost|masterpost

Sun, 04 Jul 2021 22:56:42

when night falls | 20210607

apparently I have an unofficial zombie au living purely in drabbles lol

OT7 plus you worry about what to do next. Jungkook reveals what’s on his mind. When night falls, the dead thrive and the living reflect.

warnings: language, violence (zombie blood, dead bodies, mentions of zombie eating flesh and humans turning), angst (at the undead situation), fluff / comfort, continuation of thisandthis

pairing(s):yoongi x reader

–

“If we carry the cans, it’ll slow us down but, if we don’t, we might run out of food. There might be a trolley or cart somewhere around here…”

“A shopping cart? Like homeless people?” Kim Seokjin sounded mildly offended.

You shrugged. “I mean, we are homeless. For the time being.”

Silence.

Seven sullen faces looking down.

Outside, night had fallen.

Around them was blood, but no bodies. The others tried to clean the blood, but you told them it was better to leave it.

“Why?”

“Harder for them to smell the fresh meat.”

“W… What?”

“Us.”

You weren’t sure if that’s how these zombies worked but cleaning up the blood was fruitless anyway. It would only soil cloth and every resource was precious in times like this. You all had dragged the second-time dead outside, far away from the hanger door of the main warehouse, towards the next warehouse over. Best you could do with the time restraints before it was fully night. Hopefully, there would be no undead visitors before dawn. If there were, they would be attracted to the readily available dead meat.

Eat that first.

Zombies don’t discriminate.

The thought made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

You coughed, trying to clear the deflated air. “We can try and search tomorrow. Then we’ll move on the next day, try to find a new location. We can’t be sitting ducks.”

A small, tentative hand rose. “Shouldn’t we stay in one spot? The police will come eventually, right?” Park Jimin asked.

You scratched your head. “It will most likely be military and they will probably shoot anything that moves. They’re trying to contain the horde. They’re not gonna wait to see if we’re coherent.”

“You don’t know that,” Kim Namjoon insisted. “They might.”

“They’re scared,” you said softly. “Maybe you can trust the men in charge, but the soldiers? They’re just like you and me. They don’t understand what’s going on. If we run into military patrolling and one of them freaks out and shoots one of you dead, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Namjoon sighed. Heavy, weighted.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

Jeon Jungkook, the youngest, frowned. “Then we have to avoid them. Can’t trust them.”

You didn’t know these guys. Not really. But you weren’t going to let them die in your watch either. Not because you were noble. Mostly because you had witnessed enough death of the undead already.

You really did not want to see the death of the living.

“Maybe the government has set up safe houses for survivors. We should look for one of those.”

You were surprised that it was Jung Hoseok who said what you were thinking. He gave everyone a small, heart-shaped smile as they looked at him. He shrugged.

“I saw it in a movie.”

“All of our knowledge is from fucking movies and video games,” Min Yoongi muttered behind you, sighing. He rubbed his temple. “We’re so fucking dead.”

“No.”

Kim Taehyung, who has been silent for most of the discussion, shook his head, dark brown waves of thick hair floating with his movement.

“Not yet, so we’re not gonna act like it.”

You nodded.

“Okay, first watch, two people. Everyone else sleeps. Then we switch after a couple hours.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Yes, you can. I can help.”

Min Yoongi held up his fist.

The youngest scooted away from him and sat down next to you on your other side. He pulled up the black bandana over his nose and you heard him wince.

“It stinks.”

“Stinks more out here than in the office.”

The rest of the group were sleeping in the administrative office of the factory. Yoongi and you were sitting outside the hall of the offices, facing the open warehouse of abandoned assembly lines, watching the large, open hanger door. There was no electricity. Maybe you could try to manually close it, but then that would block a potential escape route.

And you all needed every escape route you could get.

Moonlight filtered though, lighting Yoongi’s pale skin and Jeon Jungkook’s bright brown eyes.

“You should try to rest, Jungkook,” you whispered gently. “You might be the only coordinated person here,” you added with a small chuckle.

Jungkook shook his head, long black fluffy hair drifting about. “You’re here now, noona. You’re pretty good.”

“Pfft, I’m about as strong as a wet noodle.”

“The zombies are like soggy noodles left too long in soup. You’re more al dente.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. You could tell by Jungkook’s sparkling brown eyes and shaking shoulders that he was trying to contain his laugh.

“Yoongi, gimme your fist.”

“Got you.”

Jungkook put up his hands, calling for peace.

“I just wanted to talk a little. Then I’ll sleep. Promise.”

Both you and Yoongi cocked an eyebrow in disbelieving unison. Jungkook lowered his bandana to show off his pout. The little mole under his lip was barely visible. He pulled it back up when Yoongi sighed in defeat, settling back down.

“I wanted to ask… how you guys met.”

“Tinder.”

“Amanda.”

“I stole his coffee order and he chased me for three blocks.”

“I was her cat and then I turned into a man by voodoo witch magic and then we had sex while she contemplated whether or not she was a furry.”

You jerked your head to Yoongi’s weirdly specific joke and weren’t quite sure if he was on crack cocaine or had a really imaginative mind. He stared back with a deadpan look.

Jungkook blinked at your obviously (right?) fake explanations.

“What?”

You coughed up the truth. “Kim Seokjin. He’s friends with my friends and my friends set me up on a date and Seokjin pretended he needed Yoongi to help him with something, but dumped him at the restaurant and bounced. So, we ate dinner.”

“Then we went back to her place and had sex.”

You gawked at Yoongi.

He didn’t blink.

“For something around three days. My phone died. Forgot to charge it. Didn’t realize what was going on until the power flickered at her place and we turned on the TV and saw this mess.”

Yoongi gestured to the blood around them.

Jungkook’s eyes were huge like dinner plates.

He was still trying to process that you two had sex for three days. Maybe he thought it was continuous or something. It wasn’t. You two took lots of naps, but Jungkook didn’t know that. You almost added that caveat, but decided against it. Whatever. Let him think Yoongi was a sex god.

He kind of was.

You smirked slightly, but quickly composed yourself.

Jungkook seemed confused, impressed, and slightly jealous.

Yoongi continued, pretending not to notice Jungkook’s expression. “Anyway, yeah, that’s why I arrived late. I was busy doing important things.”

“Person, rather.”

Yoongi nodded sagely at your addition.

“Yup. Taehyung’s map was also shit.”

“Could have used more words and descriptions.”

“We had to make it quickly,” Jungkook piped up. “There were a bunch of zombies and hysterical people. Everyone was screaming. Namjoon-hyung and Hoseokie-hyung were trying to direct them to safety but…”

You saw a darkness fall over his face.

Sadness.

“I… watched them turn. In front of me.”

Jungkook scooted closer to you even though you were a literal stranger and not his hyung. Like he needed a human presence, easily trusting you, because how could he not? Who else was there to trust?

Everyone else around you was dead or worse.

“I had to kill them,” Jungkook whispered, his previous cheerful silvery tone trembling, muffled by the bandana. He placed his head against your shoulder. He was bigger, stronger, more muscular than you, but he seemed small now.

A little hollow.

“Minutes before they were living, breathing human beings…” he mumbled. “And then they weren’t.”

Fucking shit.

Yoongi sighed beside you, moving closer to you and Jungkook.

“Until then, I thought it was kind of like a game… like they weren’t real people, you know?” His voice was becoming smaller and smaller. Guilt. Despair. “But they were. I saw them.”

The youngest lowered his eyes by your neck and buried his face in the crook of your shoulder.

“I killed as many as I could until I couldn’t take it anymore and begged the hyungs to leave.”

You felt small drops of wetness on your skin.

“I’m not strong, hyung… noona… but you all say I am, so I keep trying…”

I can’t sleep.

These were kinds of things he couldn’t tell his closest friends, not directly. Friends relying on him to fight, to be their light, to be their youth to keep them going and remind them to fight for his tomorrow. But in you, the safety of a stranger, the safety was someone not quite yet aware of their reliance on his strength…

I can’t sleep.

Yoongi wasn’t there. He didn’t know.

There was safety in that too, his close friend who didn’t know. Yoongi hadn’t started leaning on him yet. He had been relying on you. You and your crazy ideas and your video game references mid-fight to distract his head and your head from reality.

I can’t sleep.

You placed a hand on his hair and felt Yoongi shift and put one of his hands on Jungkook’s head too. You patted the soft black hair, rubbing soothing circles into his scalp. Yoongi spoke quietly, stroking the younger man’s head.

“Hyung and noona are here now. We are strong together.”

Yoongi and you let him lean against you.

Jungkook cried.

cont.
2021.06.08 — nuts

–

#yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #bts drabble #bts zombie au #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

Mon, 07 Jun 2021 22:14:56

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

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.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, fingering, nipple play, m-receiving oral, doggy, scratching / marking, hair-pulling, cock warming); PWP; softdom!Yoongi

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.

Your shadow.

“I like that.”

–

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?

so what?
what if you live like that?

And you did, Yoongi, and for that, I am grateful.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

Mon, 08 Mar 2021 23:20:38

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

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.

–

“Sorry.”

“What?”

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.

“Hold on. Let me get off first.”

“I’m not going to hit yo–“

“Ow!”

“Motherfuc–”

Press play.

fin.

–

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut #bts series

Sun, 07 Mar 2021 18:41:39

twisted, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s):jungkook x reader x yoongi

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.

same au as chained | myg+tainted | jjk

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.

“Yeah.”

You heard Yoongi smirk.

–

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

Sat, 26 Feb 2022 13:00:50

before bed, m | myg, jjk

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.

summary:The three before the dream begins.

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.

Min Yoongi.

You closed your eyes and dreamt about nothing.

–

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

Fri, 04 Jun 2021 21:06:10

little birdie, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

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.

these events occurred prior to twelve hours, m | jjk

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.

Tonight was going to fun.

–

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut

Sun, 26 Sep 2021 06:38:16

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.

–

#bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #yoongi x you #bts yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts suga #suga x you #suga x reader #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #suga smut

Sun, 31 May 2020 07:36:13

pairing(s):yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, ??? x reader

summary:Min Yoongi is falling hard, but he’s not making much progress. Kim Seokjin is lovable is a weird way. Jeon Jungkook makes bad choices and we try to keep him alive, until he’s too intuitive that is.

warnings:non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug and alcohol use, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts

–

When Yoongi heard her door open, his head whipped around from the kitchen. He had been in the middle of cutting some green onions. She emerged from her room like an animal from a cage. Black long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, carrying a tan shopper’s bag. She didn’t seem to notice him, engrossed in her thoughts as she rummaged through the bag for a moment.

He felt he had to say something. Anything.

“Do you know where the scissors are? I can’t find them,” he called.

She looked up, blinking at him. Her hair was half-tied back, lashes dark and smokey but her lips were a peach-pink instead of the red she commonly wore. And those dark, dark eyes. He looked away from them, fixating on the wall next to her head.

“Ah, Yoongi, you didn’t use the kitchen scissors for a package, did you?” she replied, somewhat exasperatedly. “Or maybe I misplaced them…”

She hurried over, opening the drawers one by one. He noticed her nails were red and black striped. They weren’t before – she must have done them herself. She opened each drawer hurriedly but delicately, accentuating her long fingers. He had a sudden image of those nails raking down his back, pinpricks of pain clouding his mind–

“Here they are.” She placed the scissors next to the cutting board and he nodded hurriedly to make the image disappear.

“Thanks.” It came out terser than he wanted it to but she seemed not to notice. She was slipping black gloves on her hands as she turned away.

“Don’t forget to open the window when you cook meat,” she reminded. She must have seen the steak on the counter.

“I’ll remember.”

He could hear her putting on her shoes. His heart pounded mercilessly in his chest. He took a deep breath and turned around, her name falling from his lips breathlessly.

She raised her eyebrows at him as she put on her black face mask.

“Do you… know how to sing?”

Listening to the weekly rundown as a lot like listening to a teacher’s lecture. She stood in that room once again, except Seokjin was pacing, reading off his notebook as he recited the names, times, and places she needed to be. How much to bring. How much they would give.

She could remember it all quite well at this point, but that didn’t mean she needed to look at him. She didn’t need to look at his pretty dark hair covering half of his forehead or his well-fitted pale pink shirt and tailored white pants that were mysteriously not see-through. Just focus on the people. Times. Places. Not Kim Seokjin.

“Are you listening?” he was saying sharply.

“Of course, I am,” she replied automatically. “You just said Jungkook, 2300, at that god-awful club I hate going to.”

A small smirk appeared on his lips. “That’s my Moon.”

Please stop, she wanted to say, but she didn’t. She did not like these mental invasions and conjuring ideas in her head. He was doing it on purpose. He was planting them in her mind on purpose.

“Moon.”

She jumped. Somehow, he was right next to her.

“You seem to be on autopilot today,” he observed. He was wearing a pair of round glasses that he definitely did not need. Aesthetics, he would say if she asked.

“I’m not.” It was a stubborn response. He raised his brow at it.

“I cannot have you airheaded. I’ll have someone else pick up your week,” he said sternly.

Her eyes went wide and she grabbed his left arm, shaking her head furiously. “No. No, Seokjin, I’m fine. I can do it.” She squeezed his upper arm, looking up at him. Don’t take this away from me.

And then, Seokjin did something uncharacteristic.

He winced.

She let go immediately. She had felt… something under there. And then, through the light fabric, she realized there was a bandage wrapped around his bicep. Even a bump of flattened gauze.

“You… got injured?”

He scoffed. “It’s just a scrape.”

She looked up at him. No one bandaged scrapes. Not like that. She hadn’t managed to feel it enough to determine if it was a gunshot wound or a cut. He seemed annoyed and his features hardened. He wasn’t going to say what it was even if she asked.

“Who did it?”

A small smile appeared on his lips. “I’m fine, my darling. Are you worried?”

“I wanted to know if I should be worried,” she snapped.

He chuckled and placed a hand on her head. She tried to angrily swat it away but stopped as soon as his sentence finished.

“I’m trying my hardest to stay alive for you.”

“It’s just a demo, there’s no need to–”

“No, no, I want to do this right. It should sound good if you’re going to present this to a company.”

Yoongi readjusted the headset on his ears and sighed. They had been at it for a little while now. He had helped her warm up her voice, match pitch, recorded a little, but all in all, her voice sounded a little too robotic. It wasn’t her fault – she wasn’t a singer after all, only his roommate helping him out for one song. He could have attempted to sing it himself but he knew it wouldn’t have the feel he wanted.

Their makeshift setup was a table between them, her face right in front of the mic, his computer and monitors beside him.

She had the lyrics in front of her, hand on her lips, mouthing the words.

“Yoongi… is this about you?” she asked quietly.

A sudden embarrassment came over him. He bit his lip and looked away, fixating on the floor.

“Well… yeah,” he confessed. “It’s about how I feel. About the push and pull of dreams, what it means to have a dream, feeling trapped because maybe my dream wasn’t what I thought it was. Or maybe… maybe I don’t have one anymore.”

It was hard to say out loud what it was really about, but his lyrics were crystal clear.

She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Remembered her whole world, her sunshine and her planet, the one she had turned into her reason for living. The beautiful heart-shaped smile, the silly laugh. The times when she sat next to the record player and watched him dance to the music. Who needed a sofa when a dance floor was more important?

He sensed a shift in her demeanor. He looked up from the floor to see her closed eyes, clenched hands on top on the papers he had scribbled his lyrics on. He wondered what she was thinking about.

Music, she had always thought, was fun. It had brought her joy until it didn’t. She had agreed to this because, to be honest, she had been curious about what he was working on. But she hadn’t expected Min Yoongi to write something so vulnerable and relatable.

She opened her eyes.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

It was the strangest thing. Her eyes were like black glass, shimmering. When she sang, it was clear and heavy at the same time. Heavy with emotion, a longing he couldn’t place.

“So far away…”

“You wear glasses?”

Yoongi looked up from the kitchen counter. He had been staring at his phone, a yellow notepad on the counter as he scribbled notes. “Oh. No, I just thought…” He shrugged, taking them off his face. “I thought they would get me into the lyric writing mood,” he trailed off awkwardly. “They were cheap and I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

She gestured to him as she took a glass out of the cabinet. “Put them back on. They make you look studious.”

He laughed dryly, putting them back on hesitantly. “Yeah, but do they make me look attractive?”

“Yes.”

He froze. That was not the answer he expected. He stared at his notepad pointedly. For some reason, he couldn’t bear to look up and see her expression. He didn’t want to see her stifling a giggle or smirking at him.

“Are you not finishing the song we were working on?”

He chewed on his lip and lifted his head, seeing her standing on the far side of the kitchen, looking at him curiously. No teasing smile on those pink lips. As far as he could see, she wasn’t making fun of him.

“I am finishing it. It… takes time.” And I don’t like confronting that part of myself. He tried to play it off, but he knew it wasn’t working. It was making everything more awkward.

She nodded, her dark flowy waves spilling over her shoulders. Then she gestured to the space between them, looking apologetic. “Oh, I’m not avoiding you or anything,” she said hurriedly, rubbing the back of her head. “I don’t want to read any of your unfinished lyrics… I know that stuff can be private. You might not want me to see them.”

“Oh…” He continued chewing on his lip. It was a bad habit. “That’s respectful of you.”

She cringed a bit as if she hadn’t meant to say anything. “Ah, well, you know… I don’t want to accidentally see anything you’re not ready to share yet.”

It was the strangest feeling of déjà vu. It was almost as if he was looking into a mirror, but that was impossible, because her eyes were dark glass that reflected nothing. It came and went, leaving him wondering what he was supposed to infer from that moment. Then he realized the hands holding the glass were black gloves. Ripped straight leg black jeans and a huge black hoodie with a black sweatshirt underneath. She suddenly reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

“I’ll wash my glass when I get back, okay? I have to go.”

He cleaned her glass after she left. There were no other dishes. He washed it carefully, looking into the clear crystal, seeing through it but also seeing nothing at all.

Something was wrong.

“Come on, Moon-noona.”

Hands clawing at her sweatshirt, dragging her closer in the cramped private room of the club she hated, but she was too distracted with something else. She grabbed his hands before they could slide up.

“Jungkook, what have you been taking?”

He chuckled, sliding across the wall, batting his lashes at her. His pupils were unfocused, brown irises quivering.

“Fun shit.”

He laughed and laughed, as if it was the funniest thing he had ever said. The music was so loud that the bass seemed to be vibrating the thick smoky air. Either that or it was the bodies hitting the walls as they drunkenly danced and humped each other.

He hooked his fingers on the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her close. He reeked of alcohol.

“Let’s have some fun before we get to business, yeah?” he murmured breathlessly, grinning.

“What did you take?” she asked sternly, ignoring his words.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, some of something?”

She did not like this one bit. She had to pry his fingers off her. “No transaction today.”

“Aw, come on,” he whined, wrapping his arms around her waist and yanking her back to him.

She swore. His arms were like a vice. He pressed her against his dark green satin dress shirt, and even through her layers she was reminded the guy was fucking ripped. Ripped, drunk, and high on who-knows-what. Probably ecstasy. Great. She kept her waist away from his, planting her feet on the floor.

“You’re too uptight, noona.”

He was not supposed to touch her, but he was not supposed to be this drunk or this high either. If it was anyone of her other customers, she would have left without saying anything. But he was basically a kid. A kid who was trying to take even more, who probably thought he was invincible.

She had Seokjin on speed dial. She could reach into her pocket and call him with one hand and his lackeys would come handle the situation immediately. She could.

“Jungkook, look at me.”

He tried to, brain trying to compute as the battle between stimulant and depressant waged on.

“Let me go.”

He pouted. “You don’t like me? Everybody likes me.”

“Let. Me. Go.”

He let her go, slowly, still frowning. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

She drew back, watching him closely. “There is no guy,” she said absentmindedly.

“There’s always a guy,” he said exasperatedly. “Or girl, or whatever. Even if they’re imaginary.”

She would have to report the cancelled sale to Seokjin. He would be pissed. “There’s no imaginary anybody,” she replied dismissively, trying to figure out what to say so Seokjin wouldn’t go apeshit on this poor kid. Definitely wasn’t going to mention any touching.

“There is; you just refuse to admit it.”

A chill went up her spine. “What did you say?”

He shrugged, sliding to the floor, holding his shoulders. “You’re in your head, Moon-noona. In there all day, letting them dictate you like a puppet.”

Her eyes narrowed. She reached into her hoodie and threw the tiny plastic bag at him. It hit him in the chest and slid down onto the floor. He blinked multiple times, looking at the packet of white powder and then her retreating back as she left the room.

“On the house.”

–

#bts fanfic #bts suga #bts jin #min yoongi #kim seokjin #yoongi #seokjin #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x you #suga x reader #suga x you #jin x reader #jin x you

Sun, 31 May 2020 06:44:21

pairing(s):yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, ??? x reader

summary:Min Yoongi might be getting closer to his roommate… maybe? Jeon Jungkook is a little bit of an asshole (but only on the outside). Suicidal thoughts. Maybe you realize who ??? is now. Kim Seokjin might not be an asshole.

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, abusive relationship including threatening violence

–

She came out of her room dressed in loose dark grey jeans and a billowy white cropped t-shirt. Black belt and black bomber jacket to add to the casualness of it all. He only noticed this because he was laying on the hardwood.

“Why are you on the floor?”

He made a noise of annoyance and rolled over, swiping on his phone.

“Rough day?”

He mumbled. “Something like that.”

She swept her hair up into a loose ponytail. He noticed it was a little shorter now, but still past her shoulders. She squatted down next to him, behind his phone.

“Want me to order you some pizza?”

He grumbled, eyes flicking upwards. “I’m not a child.”

The corner of her mouth curved upwards. “Nope, you’re an adult and that’s why you can eat what you want.”

He sighed and placed his phone on his chest. “Don’t want to eat.”

She nodded, noting his disheveled appearance. Ripped up jeans and a loose grey and black hoodie that seemed to swallow him. His black bucket hat was only half on, and his short hair stuck out. She reached into her jacket pocket and placed the grey beanie on his chest. He cracked open an eye and peered at it.

“I washed it.”

“… Thanks.” It smelled nice. A soft scent, lightly fruity. He noticed she was wearing those leather gloves she always wore when she left the house. “Off to party?” he joked.

She huffed. “Do I seem like the partying type to you?”

He looked up at her. She was staring at her phone. He noticed she was wearing red lipstick. She abruptly turned from her phone and his eyes went straight to the ceiling.

“You want to listen to some music?” she said suddenly. She stood up, not waiting for his answer. He sat up, feeling awkward that he was still on the floor. She was walking up the to record player. He had never seen her use it in the entire time he had been living here. Her eyes scanned the shelves and she picked a record out. She was careful sliding it out of the sleeve, raising the lid of the player and setting the record down carefully. He blinked as slow rhythm guitar and piano began to play.

He frowned. “I don’t know English.”

She chuckled. “Me neither. But it’s kind of nice to just listen even if you don’t understand.”

It wasn’t his first pick but it was quite nice. The record player had a good set of speakers set up behind it. She nodded to herself and cocked her head towards him.

“You know how to work one of these, I presume?”

“Uh… yeah. But you said…”

She looked at him pointedly. “Don’t break it.” She looked back to the record player and he saw her black eyes mist over with an unknown emotion. “It used to belong to someone important, someone who believed in the power of music.”

She turned and walked towards the door, grabbing a pair of sneakers from the closet.

“Was it–” he began, but she cut him off.

“Don’t disrespect it.”

And she was gone.

“What’s your real name, anyway?”

“Moon.”

Jungkook threw his head back. He had a fun laugh despite being a piece of shit. “That’s not your real name.”

“It’s my real name to you.”

He chuckled and rolled his head on his shoulders. The party was going wild downstairs, but they were alone, making their transaction in one of the bedrooms of the rich house of someone she doubted even Jungkook knew. He was sitting on the bed, hands propping him up from behind, legs wide open. If he wasn’t going to give her the money soon, she was going to kick him straight in the balls.

“Did you pick it to be edgy?” he teased.

“No, someone else picked it for me,” she replied darkly.

The bass radiated throughout the walls of the house. Jungkook was wearing a loose white dress shirt and black ripped jeans that molded to his body. She had been right. Dude was fucking ripped.

His lips twisted in thoughtfulness. “And you just kept it? You can just change it.”

“Jungkook if you don’t give me the fucking money, I’m leaving.”

He grinned. “But I want to talk to you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Every second you waste is another second of not having the fun shit.”

His eyes found hers in the moonlight. “But talking to you is the fun shit.”

She felt a muscle under her eyes twitch. Instead of responding, she sighed exaggeratedly and turned around, glove reaching for the doorknob.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Jungkook said hastily.

She turned to see him pulling up the hem of his dress shirt way too far to reveal his chiseled abs before reaching into his jeans pocket for a fat wad of cash. She hated that. Cash by itself looked messy and suspicious. She didn’t know if Jungkook was an idiot or ignorant.

Her eyes scanned over it as he held it out. She plucked it out of his hand, checking the bills. Usually she didn’t need to do that, but she always checked for first timers.

“It’s real,” Jungkook assured, almost childishly. He would have been cute in another dimension where he wasn’t paying for cocaine.

She shrugged and shoved it in the pocket of her loose jeans. And out came the paper packet from the innermost pocket of her bomber jacket. She placed it on the nightstand next to the bed.

“Couldn’t hand it to me?”

Her eyes flickered towards him and the playful smirk on his lips. She raised an eyebrow at him.

He pouted. “Come on. I wasn’t going to touch you. I heard what the Guide said.”

“Uh huh. Is that why you’re tempted on borderline flashing me?”

He chewed on his lip, trying to stifle his grin. “Ah, you see right through me.”

She backed up. “We’re done here.”

“Hey, um…”

She paused at the door. “What?”

“Do you hate me or something?”

What happened to you being a cocky ass bitch? Her head tilted, looking down at him on the bed. He was frowning, fiddling with his shirt. “Are you upset that your charms don’t work on me?”

He scratched his head. “Well, they usually work, but no, it’s…” His eyes shifted nervously. “It’s like you’re dead inside.”

She didn’t reply. His brown orbs found hers. He found her eyes to be strangely dark, almost without light. It was weird how joyless they seemed.

“What a psychoanalysis,” she finally said. “You’re Freud himself, aren’t you?”

“What?” His brow furrowed in confusion.

She pointed to the paper packet. “Don’t overdo it. A dead customer isn’t a paying one, so don’t get so fucked up you can’t see me again.” She tilted her chin towards him and gave him a small smirk. “That’s what you want, right?”

And she was gone.

What if I just did a little?

The thin white lines taunted her.

I just don’t want to feel anymore.

The thin white lines sat on the glass palette on the unnaturally clean table in her room. Her phone was propped up behind it with a wadded-up sweatshirt.

“I really admire you for not starting.” He was talking, the memory playing like a movie in her head. She remembered his laugh, so full and free. “I’m glad, because it means you’ll always be sober to take care of my dumb ass.”

And what if you’re not here?

She was staring at the picture on her phone. Two smiles, one she hadn’t seen for a long time in the mirror and another a little heart-shaped. She turned the screen off abruptly, not wanting to see it anymore.

“You have to stop!” Why had she shouted at him? She shouldn’t have. Not then. “What happened to wanting to detox?”

“It’s too fucking hard.” Remembering his sobbing and crying hurt the most. “It hurts so much. I have to go.”

“Don’t you step out that door. I won’t come running after you this time.”

“Fuck, can’t you be sympathetic? You don’t fucking understand!”

She stared at the poisonous lines in front of her.

“You’re my cure. I can do it, I swear.”

“You’re a liar,” she whispered quietly. She stared at the lines and wondered if she could end it herself. And, just like every other time, she sighed and carefully swept the lines back into a small plastic bag. Carefully wiped everything clean with an alcohol wipe and then spraying a strong ammonia solution. She honestly didn’t know if it did anything to destroy the evidence but it seemed good enough.

She picked up her phone to see their faces together once again. The delete button taunted her, knowing she wouldn’t do it no matter how much seeing those smiles tore her up inside.

I’m not off the deep end. She kept telling herself that. I’m functioning just fine.

“Could you give me your opinion on something?”

She appeared at the bathroom door in her plastic gloves, hair tied back. She had been cleaning the kitchen.

“You called, sir?” She dragged out the words, mocking him, but she had come to the bathroom door anyway. He was too nervous to care. Yoongi fiddled with the black cap on his head and then removed it abruptly.

“Hat or no hat?”

She snickered. “Hat, of course.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘of course’?”

She rolled her eyes. “You look like a thirty-year-old man with your short hair.”

“What?”

“Like a salaryman but worse because you’re trying to look cool.”

Yoongi crammed the cap back on his head. “Are you saying I don’t look cool?” He glared at her in the mirror.

“Not with your short hair. Should probably grow it out at least a little,” she commented. She made a face at his shirt. “Where are you going in a bright green polo?”

He frowned. “I’m going to perform.”

“Do you sing for the church choir or…?”

They stared at each other though the mirror.

“Is it… not good?”

“I mean you look better in the clothes you normally wear. The hoodies and shit.”

He scrunched his nose and pushed past her, hurrying back to his room. She called after him.

“I mean you can wear whatever. I was just assuming you did some kind of hip hop because of the bass I always hear from your room.”

His head popped out of the room. “Oh shit. Am I too loud?”

She shrugged, going back to the sink where she resumed scrubbing. “Some kind of big concert you’re going to?”

His voice radiated from the room. “Uh, something like that. Opening for a pretty big underground rapper. Runch Randa.”

She tried not to burst into laughter. “Wow, what a name,” she whispered to the suds.

Yoongi emerged from his room; cap now turned into bucket hat to hide even more of his short hair. Hoodie with a brand name across the front and loose jeans.

“Is this better?”

She looked up for only a second before going back to the sink. “Do you feel more comfortable?”

He looked down as if to ask his own body. “I mean… yeah. Do I seem too relaxed though?”

She shrugged as she went at the sides of the sink with the steel wool. “You’re going to perform, aren’t you? You should be comfortable in yourself.” She was busy rinsing the sink so she didn’t hear him mumble to himself.

“Some days I don’t even want to be myself,” he muttered, hurrying to the bathroom to look at himself one last time. Minutes later he rushed out, grabbing his shoes.

“Good luck,” she called, waving a wet gloved hand.

“… T-thanks,” he said awkwardly before shutting the door.

When he came home later that night, there was takeout fried chicken on the counter waiting for him. A note scribbled beside it – Hope it went well. He meant to thank her for it in the coming weeks, but her hours seemed as irregular as ever and eventually too much time passed for him to casually bring it up again.

But he never forgot.

She hated this stupid room. The stupid black leather sofa. The marble coffee table. The plush navy, peach, and cream carpet. She doubted Seokjin had picked any of this out.

Well, except for the gun on the coffee table.

“Moon, come here.”

He was alone more often with her now. She wasn’t sure if this was because he wanted it that way or not, but she wouldn’t be surprised.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

His brown orbs darkened. His blazer was tossed lazily on the sofa, so he was in his black tie, striped white and pale blue dress shirt and black slacks. There was even a gold collar pin. He was a showoff.

“Don’t make me pick up the gun, Moon.”

Go ahead, blast my head off. She sighed and closed the distance between them. Instead of sitting beside him like he gestured, she sat down on the marble coffee table in front of him, putting herself between him and the gun.

He smirked. “That’s a good girl. I like your outfit today.”

She had worn her giant fluffy white jacket and a large black sweatshirt underneath. Bare legs, chunky heels. Hair loose and messy, lips stained red. And, of course, the black gloves. “You always like when I dress like one of your toys.”

His eyes flashed but he chose not to comment on it. He leaned forward, watching her reaction. She seemed almost bored, staring at the wall behind his head. He reached out, placing his fingertips on her knee. She twitched her knee tersely, his fingers slipping off.

He hummed. “Still not over him, I see.”

“If this is a therapy session, I’d rather pay a profess–”

“Look at me.”

The black holes went from the wall to his eyes. He almost shivered from the eye contact. They stared at each other, as if it was some kind of contest. He scooted up to the edge of the sofa. Their knees touched and she visibly flinched at the contact. Her brow furrowed.

“It’s not your fault.”

She glared at him, but said nothing.

He leaned forward even more and now their breath was mixing. She could smell his sharp cologne that reeked of money. He always seemed to reek of money and she wasn’t even poor.

“I don’t want you high,” she said sternly.

He was centimeters away from her face. “I’m never high when I’m with you. Not anymore.”

She gave him a disbelieving snort.

“I’m not lying. Look at me.”

And now she was looking deep, deep into those brown eyes, those brown eyes like hot honey, eyes that knew her better than anyone else alive. Seokjin really was a handsome man, a beautiful mess.

“This is stupid. You’re not even attracted to me,” she whispered.

“Not true.” He wasn’t smirking. He was only gazing into her eyes, falling into oblivion. Not really because he wanted to ignite them again. He knew he didn’t have that capability. “You have always been my Moon.”

“That was a name given to me.” She didn’t have to say who.

“That doesn’t mean he was the one who thought of it.”

Her mouth went dry.

“You were always his satellite.”

She chewed on her lower lip.

“Now you orbit no one.”

She was about to look down but he reached up and gently tipped her head back up.

“Look at me when I kiss you.”

And he pressed his lips onto hers.

It was not like the messy kisses during a party night. It was not like the kisses after falling into arms. It was not like the kisses after a rough fight or the kisses during laughter or the passionate kisses when there was too much energy and there needed to be a release.

It was a kiss like no other, because there were too many feelings and too many unsaid words.

He had soft, plush lips that gently pressed against hers. If it was an act, it was a good one because she was falling for it. He placed a hand on her thigh, not sliding upwards, only to steady himself as he pressed into her, breathing her scent, making her heart beat fast. He was unexpectedly gentle, almost shy. She placed a gloved hand over his and he pulled away, eyes slowly opening as he broke apart.

Her heart thudded in her ears. “What happened to looking at you?” she murmured.

He gave her a small smile and for once it felt like there was no malintent. “I didn’t say I had to look at you.”

Their hands were still on top of each other. He pulled his hand out from beneath hers and brushed her cheek with his fingers, smiling at her fondly.

“No deliveries this week. I’ll do them for you.”

And then he left the room, leaving her sitting on the marble coffee table, gun beside her. She didn’t move for what seemed like a full minute. It felt like time had stopped. She turned to look at the gun, seeing the safety on.

Not that it mattered because when she picked it up, she realized it wasn’t even loaded.

“Here’s this month’s rent.”

She took it from him with a silent nod. She was about to close the door to her room.

“Hey… uh. Have you been alright? I don’t mean to pry, but you don’t seem like yourself.”

He couldn’t exactly describe what that meant but she seemed out of it. She seemed to consider a moment before responding.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Yoongi.”

And she closed the door.

It gave him a sense of unease. She seemed to be quarantining herself in her room like some kind of self-isolation prison sentence. Before this week, she had noted his longer hair, telling him, “Finally you don’t look like a depressed businessman who spilled coffee on his only suit.”

“What do I look like, then?” he had joked.

“A cool music producer or an adoptable kitten, I can’t decide.”

She called him cool. Him, Min Yoongi, cool. Which was fair – if he could say so himself – but it also strangely made him swell with pride, which determined one thing for him.

He was maybe, kind of, oh no, definitely not…

“Get a grip,” he scolded himself.

–

#min yoongi #kim seokjin #yoongi #seokjin #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bts suga #suga x you #suga x reader #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x you #bts fanfic

Sun, 31 May 2020 06:32:10

pairing(s):yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, ??? x reader

summary: Kim Seokjin reveals his true colors. Min Yoongi freeloads off his roommate (just a little). Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook make an appearance.

warnings:non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug use, violence, mentions of depression, abusive relationship

See prologue for notes. I am not condoning any of this behavior, in case that wasn’t abundantly clear.

–

“I’m telling you; the public is changing. They want accessibility.”

“They want to get high, Seokjin.”

He grinned. He was alone this time, standing next to the window in his expensive suit. He honestly didn’t need to be in a suit, but he wore it because he knew he looked good in it.

“They still don’t want to get caught.”

She snorted, an inelegant sound that made Seokjin frown. She couldn’t say more so she just looked away from him. He moved away from the window and stepped towards her, taking note of the bucket hat and loose jeans. Brown belt, big loose black sweater.

“You could have at least dressed up for me.”

He saw her lips twist into a pout and she looked up at him with those black holes, viewing him from under the hat.

“Does it matter?” she replied sharply.

He smiled at her.

“Is the problem money? Do you need me to gift you some pretty dresses?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t need money and you know that.”

He leaned down just a bit and felt her stiffen at his closeness. “Then why are you here?” His eyes flickered up to hers but she wasn’t watching. She was purposefully looking away from him.

“Just give me the fucking pills then,” she mumbled.

“That’s a good girl.”

And he pulled his gun away from her stomach before turning around and giving her the package in a reusable grocery bag.

She sat slumped in the train seat, bucket hat over her eyes. It was like she wasn’t even there – people passed by her without giving a second glance. That was the point. She always kept her dark hair and her clothes plain, a forgettable existence to anyone who could be watching.

She didn’t believe Seokjin was an evil person. Not really. Maybe in a different parallel timeline, he was a cheerful person who brought happiness and joy to everyone he met. But not this Kim Seokjin. No, this Kim Seokjin was her drug supplier and it wasn’t a cheerful profession, if one could even call it that.

She doubted Seokjin would actually shoot her. After all, if he wanted to fuck like he claimed, it would be hard with a bloody hole in her stomach.

It wasn’t a theory she was willing to test in the moment though.

She had argued with him because she didn’t want to deal different substances. Quite frankly, she didn’t think she could do this anymore. As if on cue, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see a notification on her lock screen. She bit her lip.

She had thought about changing her lock screen many times but each time she saw his smile, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

You’re so pathetic, she thought to herself.

She put in her password and looked at her texts. It was simply labelled, Guide. That’s what Seokjin was named on her phone.

Miss you, Moon.

She shoved her phone back into her pocket and tried not to think about it.

Yoongi let out a groan and pressed his forehead onto the front door. He barely made rent this month. It was due in three days and he barely had enough in his account to pay rent and have one meal. One meal. He didn’t know how he was going to survive at this rate. The plastic bag with his one convenience store meal banged against the door and he jumped.

Sighing at his own plight, he punched in the code and entered the apartment. He staggered back, immediately hit by the delicious smell of…

Beef.

Grilled beef.

He blinked, looking around the apartment.

There was his roommate, standing next to the stove. Loose grey sweatshirt and matching sweatpants with a cream apron cinching in her waist. Hips swinging to the beat that was playing in her Bluetooth headphones as she turned over the strips of beef, oil popping and sizzling. The smoke was drifting out of the open window but the smell pervaded throughout.

Words couldn’t describe how jealous he was right now.

He looked down and closed the door, staring at his pathetic little boxed lunch through the plastic. Frustration and annoyance threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to hurl it at the wall. Why couldn’t he have her life? Not a care in the world, dancing away as she cooked that delicious-smelling beef while he was stuck in his shitshow of a–

“Oh, Yoongi.”

His head snapped up at his name. She was staring at him with the headphones around her neck. Black holes staring at him. He felt suddenly exposed, as if she could read his thoughts.

She gestured with her tongs. “You want some beef?”

He raised a hand, chuckling slightly as he shook his head. “No… No, it’s fine. It’s your food.”

And then his stomach growled so loudly that he himself looked down to stare at it. It was even louder than the sizzling beef. He had never been so betrayed by his bodily functions in his life. And his dick had chosen in some weird girls in his time.

She laughed, the first time he had ever heard her laugh. It made her eyes crinkle up and her shoulders shake, a laugh that made those dead eyes disappear for just a second. She tilted her head just a bit and grinned, shaking her head.

“I’ll prepare another bowl for you.”

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, disturbing his beanie. “I’ll do the dishes then.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

He placed his boxed lunch in the fridge – a bit further in the back – and sat awkwardly at one of the stools at the counter. She placed a bowl of rice in front of him and handed him a plate of four thick slices of beef. He could feel himself drooling at the sight. She leaned forward just a bit and he realized she must have noticed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand hastily.

“Hmm.” She was smiling at him.

Shit.

She placed a fifth piece of meat on his rice and shook her head, still chuckling. There was a plate of kimchi on the table too. He looked at it and she noticed that too.

“Go ahead. Store bought.”

He took a bite of the beef first. He swore his eyes rolled back into his head. Seasoned, cooked with some pink in the middle. It was like a flavor explosion in his mouth. Maybe it wasn’t actually that good, but he hadn’t had freshly cooked meat in so long that he had forgotten what it tasted like.

He chewed gratefully, slowly opening his eyes. He was going to say something but she was staring at her phone, looking troubled. She was picking meat off the pan, chewing hurriedly.

“It’s… really good.”

She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. “Hm? Oh. It’s just marinated beef. There’s some left in the fridge if you want it for dinner.”

Please, oh God, yes. “No, no, I couldn’t eat your food,” he said awkwardly, not really believing in his own words.

She shrugged. “You should cook it. I probably won’t be home until late.” She looked back at her phone; eyes fixated on the screen. She seemed to be concentrating on something. Then she abruptly put her phone down. “You do know how to cook, right?”

He nodded quickly. “Uh, yeah. My brother is a chef. He taught me the basics.”

“Oh.” She looked a bit embarrassed at her own question. “Good. I won’t come to a burned down apartment then.”

It was then they realized they knew very little about each other. She looked awkward and shoved her phone in her pocket before she continued eating. He stared back down at his rice and continued chewing. Fuck. It tasted really good.

“I noticed you’ve been eating a lot of convenience store food.”

He winced. “Yeah…”

She poked the end of her chopsticks at him. “You should make more food at home. All that packaging is bad for the environment,” she said sternly.

“Ah… yeah.”

She finished the last bit of her rice and set the pan and bowl in the sink, running water over them with a bit of soap.

“I have to go.”

He nodded awkwardly. She left the kitchen to go to her room. He let out an exasperated sigh after she closed the door. He wasn’t really sure why he couldn’t talk to her that well. It wasn’t like he was weird around girls. Maybe it was that unapproachable feeling surrounding her.

Or maybe it was because he knew he had to pay her soon.

She came back out dressed in the same sweatpants and an open black hoodie. His eyes widened when he noticed she was wearing a white crop top underneath. She slung a small duffel bag against her shoulder. It was actually a very attractive look on her.

She turned and he saw she was fresh faced, with minimal makeup. She walked over to him, staring straight at him. No, not him.

She plucked the grey beanie off his head.

“I’m gonna borrow this.”

“Jimin, I am not upping your order.”

Those perfectly plump lips curved into a pout. “Moonie, pleaaaase? Pretty please?”

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “No. I brought your current order with me and I didn’t bring extra. I told you before–”

“I know, I know… A dead customer isn’t a paying customer.”

Well, actually my saying is a dead addict isn’t a paying addict. They were standing at the edge of the dance studio. It was already closed, so the windows were dark and no one was around. The particular corner they stood at couldn’t be seen by the windows. She tapped her sneaker against the hardwood. Park Jimin, dance choreographer and current customer, rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and handed her a cheap blue plastic water bottle. She was wearing her black gloves but had no problem screwing the lid open. She looked inside, satisfied to see the correct amount. She was good at that. She tucked it away in her duffel bag and handed him the small brown paper bag in response, pills tucked in a believable prescription bottle.

“Thanks, Moon. I really needed this.”

Her brows furrowed as he opened the bottle hastily and took one right there in front of her. His orange hair stuck to his forehead, probably due to sweat, but it made him look desperate.

“Jimin, if you need them that bad, you should go see a doctor.”

He winced as he chugged down a gulp of water. “I know. I know… It’s just… award season is coming soon. I need to stay busy.”

She wanted to punch him. You fucking idiot, you’re going to kill yourself.

“Hey, um… I was wondering if you still take on customers? I know a guy…”

She rolled her eyes. “Jimin, please keep your trap shut for your safety and mine. Do you want to get arrested?”

“Are you the one doing the arresting?”

A new, deep voice penetrated the room. A cocky smile and an all-black shadow drifted into the room. The black sweatshirt was so huge it might as well have been a blanket. Dark brown eyes and dark brown hair, slightly long and damp.

She shoved her hands in her black hoodie and glared at Jimin. “You best believe the Guide will hear about this.”

Fear flashed in Jimin’s eyes. “No, wait. Wait, Jungkook–”

“Is this her? Your dealer?” His eyes raked down her frame, briefly fixating on her white crop top. She only wore it because she knew Jimin wasn’t going to mess with her – Seokjin made sure of that – but she hadn’t counted on someone else appearing. “She’s a cute little thing, isn’t she?”

Jimin smacked his chest, trying to push him back. “Stop. You can’t flirt with her,” he warned.

A muscle in her leg tensed. She thought about running but it was better to diffuse the situation.

“Why not?” The one named Jungkook grinned. “Hey, can you hook me up with some of the fun stuff? Not like what Jimin-ssi has here… You know. The fun shit.”

You little– “If you want the fun shit, you have to pay fun shit prices.”

He smiled at her. She did not like it. Not one bit.

“Yeah?”

He took a step towards her. And another. He was trying to back her against the wall, but she stood her ground. Every muscle in her body was tensed. She knew enough to avoid getting her ass kicked by the regular guy. Maybe a little more. He looked down at her, lips curled into a sly smirk. He had a jawline that could cut by itself. He was wearing a gentle cologne and, to be honest, he was attractive, which would be a shame if she had to break that nose.

“Maybe we can strike a deal?”

“Jungkook, I swear, if you even so much as put a finger on her,” Jimin said sternly. She could hear the warning in the shorter male’s voice. It was pretty frightening considering Jimin was one of her more cheerful customers.

Jungkook grinned and backed off. “I’m just kidding.”

She looked away from him and glowered at Jimin. He shook his head.

“Please don’t tell him,” he pleaded.

She looked back at Jungkook, who seemed quite smug about it all. Without warning, she swiftly kicked the back of his knees, making him stumble and cry out.

“Moon, please–”

Another swift chop straight to the sternum and Jungkook was on his knees, gasping for air. She held her fist centimeters from Jungkook’s face, making him freeze. Jimin hovered around, concerned, but it seemed like he was more concerned about her then Jungkook. And within those seconds of exchange, she realized two things.

One, Jungkook was fit. Really fit. And two, if she didn’t have surprise, then she probably would have bitten off more than she could chew. And that would mean…

She clutched her duffel bag and sent Jungkook her most scorching glare.

“Don’t get yourself involved in shit way over your head, kid.”

And, of course, instead of being apologetic or even angry, Jungkook smiled, licking his lips.

“Okay, noona.”

Later, when she was sitting in her room, she really wished she had just punched him.

“Are you coming to my party?” The phone quality didn’t hide the honey in Seokjin’s voice.

“No.”

She could almost hear his pout. “You never come anymore. We used to have such fun. You, me, and–”

She cut him off. “Did you talk to Jimin?”

His tone instantly darkened. “I did. He was very apologetic.”

She made a noise of disapproval.

“I didn’t break anything this time.”

“This time,” she echoed. “What about the brat?”

Seokjin brightened. “We had a little discussion. He’ll be a new customer soon.”

She wanted to strangle him. “Seokjin, I toldyou–”

“You only serve a few customers and you complain about one? One rowdy little thing?”

“This rowdy little thing is going to be trouble,” she warned.

“Don’t worry, my darling,” Seokjin cooed. “I made it very clear you’re mine.”

“I’m n–” And of course he hung up before she could say anything else. She glared at her phone and growled. She didn’t throw it, but she wanted to.

“Bastard,” she muttered to herself.

–

Sun, 31 May 2020 06:02:16

in other words: My Roommate is a Drug Dealer

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, ??? x reader

summary:Min Yoongi is in luck when a super cheap room is up for rent. Or maybe not.

warnings: non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug abuse, depression and suicidal thoughts, abusive relationships, eventual smut

note: Main character is female. I use ‘she’ instead of ‘you’ in this case because I’m more comfortable writing the omnipresent POV. You are welcome to think of ‘she’ as yourself or an OC. Her name is never explicitly mentioned. The character’s appearance is set to fit the story and her role.

–

When he saw the ad online, he couldn’t believe the price. It had to be a joke. There had to be hidden fees or something wrong with the room. He was preparing himself for disappointment. It was too good to be true. As he arrived to the neat complex, he checked around for anything sketchy. It was eerily quiet as he knocked.

“Min Yoongi, right?”

The woman who greeted him at the door was calm and polite. She was wearing a large baggy gray sweatshirt and black pants with black slippers. He guessed she was around his age. Long dark hair, tied in a low ponytail. A plain, almost forgettable face. Almost, if it wasn’t for her piercing dark eyes. They were like bottomless pits, as if he was staring into a pair of black holes. He looked away quickly, somewhat perturbed.

“Uh… yeah. I’m here to look at the room.”

He needed this. After being kicked out of his last apartment, he couldn’t go home. He had to have something to show his parents that he could be successful in the music industry. But after producing a few remote albums and tracks, he barely had anything. Not to mention getting ripped off multiple times had him in this sticky financial situation. He bit his lip as he stepped into the apartment, looking around anxiously.

It was actually a very empty apartment. The center room was a living room and kitchen combination but there was no living room furniture, only a record player and boxes of records on a large bookshelf against the wall. The kitchen had two black stools at the counter. It was clean and neat, almost military. She gestured to the right, to the open door.

“This is the room,” the woman was saying quietly. “Bathroom is around the corner.”

There was no furniture in the room. Absolutely none. He tilted his head, looking around. The hardwood floors shone and despite how clean it was, he could see nick marks in the wood. He almost breathed in relief. At least there was some evidence someone lived here.

“Why hasn’t the room been rented out yet?” he asked, turning to the woman. “It looks nice.”

She was watching him carefully. It was unsettling. “Because I have rules that the tenant must agree to.”

Here we go. “What rules?”

Her eyes were fixated on him, blinking very sparingly. She held a hand up, counting with her fingers. “One: no people over. None. No friends, no family, no fuckbuddies. You want to fuck someone, do it at their place,” she stated with a completely straight face.

He was stunned at her language. He was beginning to understand why this place was still up for rent.

“Two: clean up after yourself. I will not ask twice. If you do not clean up after yourself, I will kick you out without hesitation. Three: I live in the room across from you.” She pointed with her pinky and he saw the other room opposite his. The door was closed. “If you have a problem with that, then leave. And finally, four…”

She paused. His throat felt dry.

“You break the record player or any of the records, I will break you.”

She said it so seriously that he was confused for a second. “Is… is that it?”

A small smile appeared on her lips. He blinked.

“Well, usually I just turn people away when I know they’re going to be assholes. You seem alright,” she replied, more to herself than to him. “You said you were a music producer? Is your work quiet?”

“I can work with headphones on,” he said hurriedly. “If needed, I can soundproof the room so you don’t hear much.”

“Hmm.” She was inspecting him like a hawk. He could feel her eyes on him. She took a few steps around him as she entered the room after him. “Have a lot of friends?”

His eyes shifted to the floor. “Not really.”

“Yeah, well, me neither. Rent is due on the first of each month.”

And that was that.

She was polite enough. She helped him move all of his equipment into the room and brought him some tables and a chair, saying they were from a secondhand store. He brought a mattress and set it up with a pillow and blanket. She was always dressed plainly. She had thin hands and long fingers. He noticed them when she was helping him move the tables.

He didn’t understand if she had a job or not. He would hear her leave at random times and she would reappear at equally random times. Sometimes in a black long coat, sometimes in a black bomber jacket and jeans, sometimes in a fluffy white jacket that made her look like a giant marshmallow. He noticed her makeup was always different too – sometimes very little, sometimes quite heavy, sometimes somewhere in between. If it wasn’t for his dire financial situation, he might have thought more about how he wasn’t quite sure what her face looked like.

Instead he spent most of his time in his room, working on his music.

“How’s my favorite girl?”

“I’m fine, Seokjin.”

She almost rolled her eyes at the man, who was sitting between two very attractive, very coked-out women. They threw themselves all over him, kissing his neck and chest through his dress shirt and blazer. Unfortunately, she couldn’t roll her eyes. She had to be serious.

He pouted. It was almost cute, if it wasn’t for the dangerous glint in his eyes. “Just fine? How can I make it better, my darling?”

“I’m not your darling, Seokjin,” she corrected calmly, setting the laptop bag in front of him. It was a scruffy laptop bag, similar to the type that students used.

“Yet.”

He pushed the girls aside and opened the bag, eyes lighting up at he saw the money. He zipped it back up and set his elbows on his knees, looking up curiously at her. “Wearing your gloves again, I see.”

She shrugged. “Eczema is pretty bad this year.”

The corner of his mouth curved upwards. “It’s bad every day of the year.”

She didn’t reply. He noticed she was dressed in a long black coat with a white blouse and ill-fitted black pants. Simple black shoes. Almost as if she was going to work. He frowned, shaking his head.

“I’m not into this ensemble today. I much preferred the jogger aesthetic you had on last time.”

She smiled. “You just like tight pants.”

“You know me too well.”

He stood up, confusing the girls. They ended up flopping on top of each other, giggling. He walked around the marble coffee table, handing her a leather-bound folder stuffed with papers.

“I’m glad you decided to continue working for me.”

She kept the smile plastered to her face as she took the folder from him. She kept it there as she bowed politely and walked out of that room, out of that house. Out of that neighborhood, until she was on the subway. The smile faded, replaced with a blank expression. The leather folder felt heavy in her hands. It felt like a brick she was dragging all the way home. She walked into the apartment, hearing the faint bass of music leaking underneath Yoongi’s door. He was a model roommate. He would probably be good looking too if he wasn’t so obsessed with music and less with eating a normal diet. But he was clean and kept to himself, so all was well.

She slipped into her room and locked the door.

The leather-bound folder was placed on the empty table. She took off her black leather gloves and replaced them with plastic ones. A swift swipe with a disinfecting wipe to get rid of the oils and the fingerprints. She opened the folder carefully, putting the useless papers aside. She found what she was looking for.

She pulled up her chair and sat down, staring at it.

It was like this every time. She questioned it every time. Then, like clockwork, she turned and opened a drawer to find the small plastic baggies. Slowly and carefully, she began to divide the white powder into the appropriate weight using the small scale in her desk.

Careful.

So careful not to breathe it in.

–

@adventuresinwonderlust @thedarkwinterrose @samros95

Sun, 31 May 2020 05:54:32

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*

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.

Masterlist

Taglist

#bts fic #bts smut #bts imagines #kinktober #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x yn #established relationships #bts kinktober

@bts-hyperfixation

Sun, 18 Oct 2020 17:40:41

outro: profiles

♤Catch Fire♤

↳You can’t help but wonder what the hell is going on inside of the quiet angry guy’s head who’s always brooding under the big oak tree. Life isn’t kind, Yoongi knows that from first hand experience, but the curious girl who always watches him is.

[troubled!yoongi x curious!reader]

tag list:@stigma93 @loveyoongles @adorablekoo7 @hannahdinse8 @xxxanimangxxx @matchasicle @lyndseygoregasmxo @jaycheoluwu @aizuwusho @chocochocomilksstuff @idrawyoongialot @whobuilthemoon @procrastination-queenie @thebleuprince

Wed, 22 Dec 2021 05:49:21

part twenty-nine:epilogue

♤Catch Fire♤

[troubled!yoongi x curious!reader]

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a/n: hello everyone! sorry I’ve been gone for so long and have kept some ppl waiting, life got hectic and b u s y. BUT! I’m gonna have the outro profiles posted shortly and work on posting my next au during my month off from school which starts next week!! I hope y’all enjoyed this one!!

Mon, 13 Dec 2021 07:16:38

part twenty-eight: shake it’s ecosystem

♤Catch Fire♤

[troubled!yoongi x curious!reader]

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a/n: *GASP* what’s this? me posting again?? (sounds too good to be true) I’m sorry for taking so much time off, school never got better like I thought it would, but I finally got some stuff worked out! THANK YOU SO MUCH for being patient with me and I hope you guys stick around for the last 2 chapters and enjoyed this one!

tag list:@kanekiluhan @loveyoongles @tereurrutia @hannahdinse8 @xxxanimangxxx @yngiclit @lyndseygoregasmxo @seungcheoluwu @aizuwusho @chocochocomilksstuff @idrawyoongialot @whobuilthemoon @wild-starfish @thebleuprince

Mon, 05 Oct 2020 21:16:56

part twenty-six: business demon

♤Catch Fire♤

[troubled!yoongi x curious!reader]

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a/n: I probably put too much information about the internships but whatever anyway yoongi’s living his best life and that’s all that matters (also next update a certain two people join forces) lmk your thoughts and thanks for reading!!

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 09:33:34

Drug Lord!Yoongi x Coffee Shop Owner!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 18.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Feelings, Yoongi Opening Up

When you left the compound with Yoongi the sun was still high in the sky.

Now as you drive down the asphalt roads with the top down and the wind caressing your bare shoulders, the sky is a multitude of pastel colors.

The drug lord hasn’t told you where you’re going but the hand that’s intertwined with yours keeps your suspicions at bay.

You find yourself thinking as he switches the headlights on that this just feels so right.

It feels so completely, wonderfully right.

“Why’re your hands so cold? Are you chilly?” Yoongi inquires, tossing his finished cigarette out of the car.

You haven’t even noticed the sudden drop in temperature, you’ve been so focused on your thoughts and the way the colors have been painting the sky.

“I’m okay. I didn’t even notice,” you reply.

The silence between you two carries on for a while, the indie rock music bleeding through the car’s speakers is just enough to keep the mood relaxed.

The roads you’re taking are winding and sharp but your boyfriend hits each curve with accuracy.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re feeling awkward?” the scarred man breathes, slowing down the vehicle.

Tilting your head to him, you watch as the setting sun highlights every gorgeous feature of his handsome face.

It’s almost impossible to stop yourself from sighing dreamily.

His scar which normally is an angry red seems softer somehow as if the pinkish hues of the once cut skin is healing even now.

You feel caught between a second and forever as the car finally stops.

The drug lord turns his head to you, tilting it playfully and it snaps you out of your reverie.

“Feeling awkward?” Yoongi inquires again.

Shaking your head, you smile up at him. “Not awkward. Just comfortable,” you promise, turning to look at the sight before you.

The car has stopped on a cliff high above the city below. It’s breathtaking to see the multitude of lights that dot the skyline as the sun sets.

“Wow,” you gasp, unbuckling your seatbelt and standing up.

“This is my favorite place to come when I need to take a break and think,” your boyfriend breathes, shutting the car off.

Yoongi looks up at you, watching how your face lights up in the soft rays of moonlight. With your arms crossed atop the windshield, you look completely ethereal.

“Jesus,” he mutters, completely floored by your gorgeous silhouette.

When you rest your temple against your knuckles and smile down at him, he takes a sharp breath between his teeth.

There’s this unspoken conversation you both are having. You’re taking each other into your sights for what feels like the first time and both of your bodies are teetering on the edge of exploding.

Yoongi pulls out both of his phones, the prepaid and his regular one, he switches them off without a second thought.

You watch with curious eyes as he exits the car and grabs the throw blanket and the bottle of wine. He wraps his arm around your waist, hoisting you up effortlessly out of the car and you can’t help but squeal happily.

He smirks, throwing the blanket down in front of the car and flickering on the headlights.

The high beams highlight the flowery patch in front of you and you feel absolutely speechless. You’ve never had a man do anything like this before.

Well, you’ve never had a man do anything for you before unless you’re counting Jeongguk buying you dinner. But he doesn’t count, not really.

“This is a date,” you find yourself uttering as your boyfriend sets you down on your feet.

The drug lord smiles, sitting down on the blanket and patting the spot beside him.

He leans back against the hood of the car, unbuttoning his dress shirt until the black ink of his tattooed torso is on view.

When you sit down beside him, he slings his arm over your shoulders.

“We’ve been on dates before. I’ve taken you out to lunch and dinner numerous times,” he breathes, drifting his thumb over your exposed arm.

“Not one that hasn’t been interrupted,” you reply, opening the bottle of wine.

He hums in agreement, looking over the lit city below.

“This is really beautiful, Yoongi,” you murmur, setting the bottle down beneath you.

“You’re really beautiful,” he vows, putting his index finger beneath your chin and turning your face to look at him.

You can feel the tips of your ears burning with the early hints of a blush at his sweet words.

“No one knows about this place, it’s my own little haven.” the drug lord announces, carding his fingers through his hair.

“I know now,” you quip, moving closer to him when he pulls you.

“Ah, well you aren’t no one, baby doll,” he murmurs, drifting his lips over your shoulder.

He sounds so free, so relaxed and it makes you vibrate with happiness.

“How so?” you inquire.

Yoongi picks up the bottle of wine, smirking as he brings it to his lips. You watch his Adam’s apple bob while he drinks the aged white liquor and there’s something so magnetic about him in this very moment.

It’s gravitational. Pulling. Grounding.

“You should know by now that you mean much more to me than any woman that has stepped within a ten foot distance of me in all these years,” the scarred man professes.

Your heart stammers and your throat tightens. You’re unashamed when you lay your head down on his broad shoulder, staring down at the city below.

A gentle chilly wind sweeps over the both of you and the goosebumps that begin to grace your skin makes your boyfriend frown.

He peels off his suit jacket, slinging it over your shoulders before you can even protest.

When you open your mouth to refute, he presses his lips softly to yours.

“What makes me so different?” you bleat, coursing your fingers over his smooth, neat dress shirt.

Yoongi sighs happily, pulling you into his lap.

“Everything about you is different. Most women that come to know me only know how to open their legs, they don’t know how to open my heart,” the scarred man begins, wrapping his arms around you. You can feel his hard, sinewy torso pressing tightly, comfortingly to your back. “Every single second I’ve spent with you has had my heart race faster than any drug could allow. Sure, you can be stubborn and challenging at times but who wants a meek woman that sits by idly? You are show stopping and strong, completely brazen. I tried so fucking hard to make you hate me – so fucking hard.”

You mold yourself to your boyfriend’s body, burying your face into his neck. He preens gently, running his hands over your body as you tuck your legs beneath you.

“Why?” you bleat, accepting the bottle of wine as he offers it.

Yoongi pulls out a cigarette, packing the bottom of it to his terse thigh. “I wanted you to hate me so badly so that you would push yourself away from me. I wasn’t ready during those angry moments to understand just how well you would reform me. I just knew that you were a good girl and I was an evil that you didn’t need.”

You lift your head when you hear the pain in his voice. His eyebrows are knit together like he’s reliving his worst sin so you do what you need to and hug him tightly.

“And now?” you breathe, drifting your fingers over the dragons that dance along his scalp.

“Now you’re my good girl. Like it should be,” he replies, placing both of his hands on either side of your face.

The drug lord presses his forehead to yours and the peace between the both of you bleeds into the chilly atmosphere.

“I haven’t wanted something like this so badly in so many years. I want to give you… God, everything and anything you desire. I know I seem cold sometimes but that’s all I’ve ever known. You’ve made something inside me just… melt. I was so afraid of that but… I love it.”

You can’t help the smile that graces your face at his words.

“Against everything in my body telling me to close myself up again, I just can’t bring myself to do it. I want this. I want you.”

The tip of his nose trails over the apple of your cheek and you’re so consumed with the man in front of you that you can hardly think of anything else.

“Well, I’m here,” you breathe, watching him light his cigarette.

“Thank God for that,” he replies, blowing the smoke away from you.

If you’re not careful, you’re gonna fall deeply in love with this man.

But you’ve never been careful and you won’t start now.

“I’m really shocked at how open I’ve been with you so far, it hasn’t felt strained or taxing.” Yoongi bleats, taking another swig of the white wine.

“I like how open you’ve been,” you agree, turning back around to look at the dazzling light show beneath you.

“Me too, I’ve never told anyone about my parents before. It was always just a small little secret, a tiny memory to keep for them. But it felt so good just saying it out loud and it felt even better to tell you.” the scarred man avows, rocking you back and forth.

The smile that’s etched onto your face is really starting to hurt your muscles but every moment of joy is so incredibly worth it.

There’s silence for a bit, a calm and collected silence that seems to stretch far and wide. You’ve taken to staring at the blinking tower lights ahead of you, you watch them strobe and pulse in time with the scarred man’s heartbeat behind you.

“I hope to be everything you want. I want to be that man that you love waking up next to.” Yoongi finally says, pushing your hair over your shoulder to pepper soft, warm kisses to the back of your neck.

“I don’t know how Sedra could have left someone as amazing as you.”

You freeze for a moment, widening your eyes at how lackadaisical your mouth has become during the comforting stretch of silence.

Feeling terrible, you turn to look back at him and he only chuckles at the sorrow on your face.

Picking up his hand, he presses his thumb to your knit eyebrows, relaxing the muscles that are wound tightly together with a smile.

“I was so bitter about it for so many years that it ate away at my soul. But in that empty, utterly barren part of my heart began to bloom something so much more important than anger because of you. We can talk about it, I don’t mind actually. I told you I’m open with you and that’s how it will stay,” he promises, kissing you sweetly.

When you just stare at him, taking in every handsome feature of his god-like face, the drug lord feels a weight lift off his body.

He’s been trying to push you away for so long now that now with his heart opening… he’s never gonna be able to go back to how he was before.

You give him something.

Something profound.

Like… water in the desert or food when you’re gaunt.

You’re saving him, like he’s been drowning for the past ten years.

“You know-,” he sighs softly.

Just the small sound has you sitting up straighter. There’s more emotion in that single sigh than you care to analyze but you tilt your head to him when he clears his throat.

“Something deep inside of me wants to just… speak all of my sins and all of my pain to you,” Yoongi whispers, lacing your hands together.

Giving him a small smile, you press your forehead to his temple. “I may not have been in a relationship before but I do know that that’s okay to do. How can you be with someone, really truly be with them, if you can’t tell them everything? You’re supposed to share everything. That’s why they call significant others – people’s other halves.”

The drug lord closes his eyes, letting your words flow through him like a river.

He finds the will to speak after a moment.

“I was trying to protect you by not telling you details of where I was going or what I was doing the other day… I was afraid that in the future if we did get so close and I did tell you those things then it would solidify how I feel about you… And that scared me for a moment. I was afraid that I was losing myself so fast – like I was gripping onto a rope that was fraying.”

You hum in agreement, kissing the back of his hand.

“But I don’t want to be afraid anymore, Y/N,” he breathes, staring at you with shaking mocha irises. “I want to be a person again. I want to live my life instead of living in darkness.”

He leaves your hand for a moment to grab the wine and you watch as he guzzles it to douse the flames of nervousness through his body.

“Well I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here when you’re ready to open up.”

Yoongi courses his second knuckles over your cheek, appreciating the way the moon highlights your hair like you’ve been given a halo – a rightful halo fit for an angel.

He is silent for a long time, longer than you’ve ever seen before. The drug lord’s eyes take you in as a whole in front of him for what feels like eons.

He pulls from his cigarette, letting the smoke gently exhale from between his plush lips.

“I was trying to get Sedra pregnant back then, that’s why I was so surprised it was Jae’s kid. She was letting me cum inside her for so long while she was also with him that… I thought it was mine,” the scarred man says.

He’s opening up.

You give him your full attention, wrapping your legs around his waist and steadying your hands on his shoulders.

His rough, warm hand runs over your back as he leans his head back against the car to look up at you.

“I never wanted to think of me and her parting. I was so obsessed with her. She was the only family I wanted and what I thought I needed to be whole… She told me she was pregnant and she allowed me to believe it was mine for twenty four hours before I overheard her telling Jae.”

Your eyebrows knit once more, an angry fury crossing your mind until your veins are thumping out of your temples.

Just hearing his past pain makes your heart palpitate sickly.

Yoongi looks past you to the city and his expression is so lost that it feels like he’ll never come back to reality.

“I knew… God, I knew something was up with them. Just the way she looked at him… she never looked at me that way. She never drifted her fingers over my chest like she did with him. But I just couldn’t let her go… I couldn’t.”

He tosses his cigarette aside, looking up at the starry night sky. When you bury your face in his neck, his eyes flutter shut. A protective arm wraps around your waist and he holds you so close to him that he can barely breathe.

“I overheard her telling Jae about the baby. She snuck out with him at night and I was so cautious even back then that I followed them to the treehouse behind the orphanage.”

You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for anything and everything he’s about to tell you.

“When he told her how happy he was that it was his… When she said that she would only let me cum in her on days where she wasn’t ovulating… I vomited all over myself… She lied to me. She-She used me because she couldn’t get rid of me.”

Swallowing thickly, you wrap your arms around his neck.

The drug lord shakes his head, letting a bitter chuckle flow through the air.

“So I got mad… more mad at myself than anything. I was so fucking pissed that I was such a dumbass kid. So I went out to the bar that night. I had been sober from drugs for about a year but I just wanted to forget everything. I wanted to score something that would just make me obsolete. So I did some PCP and I drank until everything was upside down.”

Your shivers aren’t from the cold, they’re from his words.

Yoongi pulls his suit jacket tighter over your shoulders and he buries his face in your hair, almost as if he’s trying to shield himself from his memories.

“Jae came to the bar to celebrate that Sedra was pregnant. I was strung out and drunk, barely able to lift my fingers but when I saw him… I had this beast inside of me just raring to break out. So I broke a beer bottle and rushed at him with all this rage and all this anger… And Jae was just too fast for my fucked up body. He turned my wrist and made me cut my own face open… There was so m-much blood. I couldn’t even feel it because of how wasted I was.”

You whimper gently, squeezing your eyes shut tighter as tears pool.

“No one knows that it was Jae that did this to me. I didn’t want people to know that he kept one-upping me in every point of my life back then, so I just let that part of the night die along with all of my emotions.”

Pulling back, you cup his face. The scarred man swallows thickly, avoiding eye contact with you.

“I'm…I’m telling you this because I really enjoy you around me. I enjoy your company. I enjoy how you make me feel. ‘Cause I haven’t felt… not for an incredibly long time.”

You lean in, pressing your lips softly to the gnarled skin and he completely freezes before you like a statue.

Your voice is shaky but strong, something that makes his heart bleed in an instant. “I don’t care about what happened in your past… I care about your future and if I-I have any say in it… you’ll never be hurt again.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck, tugging you to look at him.

His eyes are windows to all the deep seated pain he’s held inside for so long.

“It’s gonna be so hard for me to try not to fall in love with you, baby doll.”

“Don’t try… just do.”

His lips are on yours then. Fierce and passionate all at once. His teeth clamp down on your lower lip, tugging and suckling until your hands card through his hair.

He growls against you, a sound that’s so needy and carnal it makes your body want to implode.

Yoongi kisses you until your lips are raw and swollen, his hands trail over your side, kneading and gripping whatever skin he can find.

But when you pull away – the calm between the both of you is deafening.

“I want you… more than I’ve wanted anything in so long,” he breathes, trailing the tip of his nose over your collarbone.

“I’m not going anywhere.” you promise, running your fingers over his inked scalp.

Looking up at you once more, he sighs. “Open my heart up, sweetheart. Tear me to shreds. I’m yours.”

“I’m yours,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his.

<—— Last Chapter Next Chapter —–>

The Deal taglist – @jeon-junggoop,@btsarmy9593,@slothykrueger,@jcsmae,@milesjeon11, @cloudyblisss, @borahae-reads,@secretlycrazyhummingbird,@rjsmochii,@sugas-bbygirl,@ggukkieland,@hyungieyoongi,@chxmachxps,@dvalitaes,@vintageroses10,@maerawrrr,@flowerblu00,@veronawrites,@seoqity,@wozwaid,@hisbutton-nose,@sweetempathprunetree, @jinsearthh, @codeinebelle,@serious-addiction,@bt21chim,@rosquilleta,@dunixxd,@rkchmestizangmaldita,@openup-yourmind, @shesaysweirdthings, @marslena,@deathkat657,@yoonlattesworld,@that-funny-alien-28,@clutterfied,@belladaises,@silentkei,@btsnina,@shydestinyyouth, @thefreddieman, @kkklaudiaaa17

#the deal #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #drug dealeryoongi #drug lordyoongi #yoongi smut #bts fic

Wed, 04 May 2022 14:20:32

Drug Lord!Yoongi x Coffee Shop Owner!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 17.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Detective Seokjin, Cunnilingus, Sir Kink, Pet Names, Praise, Edging, Begging, Bratty!Reader, Clit Pinching, Bitch Boy!Jimin

The definition of monogamy has been blurry to Yoongi ever since Sedra left him for dead.

He always found himself changing the description, flipping it from a noun to a not really used adjective to simply pretending like the word didn’t exist at all.

But you, little miss Jeon Y/N has brought the Merriam-Webster definition to life before his very eyes.

You’ve seemed to carve the noun into his chest, into his soul.

“Did you find it?” he drones into the phone, looking up from his desk.

“Finally yeah, I had to go to one of those old sweet shops in a town where there’s only like ten people that live in hanoks,” Taehyung announces.

Yoongi breathes a sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head.

“How many did you buy?” the drug lord inquires.

“Their whole inventory. Three full boxes.” Tae replies.

“Good, just bring them with you to the coffee shop tomorrow. Jeongguk is gonna come pick them up.”

Yoongi hears a noise that can only be described as a disgusted scoff.

“Must you? Can’t you send Jimin or Namjoon or literally anyone else? Even a homeless man who’s doing it for a two dollar tip will suffice.”

The drug lord smirks, shaking his head at the younger man’s childishness.

“Just because he’s the youngest doesn’t mean you can bully him like everyone else did to you. You were the youngest not too long ago.” Yoongi chides, winking at Namjoon who stands stiffly against the office door.

The usually silent man only rolls his eyes in return, earning a wide smile from the drug lord.

“Hey, man, I was trying to help him out. Seeing as how he’s too pussy to talk to the girl he actually likes.”

There are so many similarities between you two siblings but the one thing that Jeongguk never picked up from you was boldness.

When you want something, Yoongi knows all too well, you’ll get it.

Kicking his feet up onto his desk, the drug lord chuckles.

“Are you gonna hit that?” Yoongi inquires, fixing his cuff links.

“No! She’s for Guk. He should know that already instead of making me beat him black and blue.”

Yoongi lights a cigarette, watching the smoke rise up to the ceiling. “Well, instead of beating him up, why don’t you support him?”

Taehyung whistles long and low. “Wow, his sister must be pegging you with one fat strap-on to get you talking like that.”

“Yeah, alright. You fucking moron.” the drug lord grumbles, ending the call.

Namjoon chuckles then, the sound drawing your boyfriend’s attention.

“Funny?” Yoongi quips, lifting his mug of coffee.

Joon can only shrug. “It’s nice.”

The drug lord blinks. “What’s nice? Pegging?”

The taller man rolls his eyes. “You. Y/N. It’s nice.”

The scarred man isn’t usually one for blushing cheeks but he can feel his skin heating up at the usually silent man’s brisk words.

Namjoon has been by Yoongi’s side since he arrived at the orphanage. He’s never questioned him, he’s never shown an ounce of loyalty to anyone else and he’s always been a trustworthy friend.

“Better than Sedra.” Namjoon rasps, leaning his head back against the steel door.

Yoongi smirks, ashing his cigarette. “I think a venomous snake is better than that one.”

The laugh Joon gives sounds as if it’s pained but the dimples that etch onto his cheeks tell a different story.

The two men relish in each other’s company for a minute before the office door comes barreling open.

“I just got the dash cam footage back from the crash… you’re gonna wanna see this.” Jin announces.

The drug lord’s eyebrows flicker up and he moves his mug out of the way for the eldest’s laptop to settle down.

Joon slowly closes the door, stepping far enough into the room to be able to see the large screen.

Jin taps the spacebar, nodding to the screen and your boyfriend drifts his fingers slowly over the gnarled skin on his face.

Yoongi flinches when the Escalade comes to a screeching halt but the large truck that ends up smashing into them moments later seems completely intentional.

“I thought to myself after watching it, ‘the truck behind us had more than enough time to step on the brakes or to even shift out of the path’ so I did more digging.” the broad shouldered man states, tapping the spacebar and rewinding the video just a few seconds back.

He points at the screen.

“Vanwyck Pharmaceuticals?” Yoongi murmurs, reading the faded letters on the front hood of the truck.

“Mhm. Vanwyck Pharmaceuticals is a subsidiary under Seoshin Medical.” Jin replies, folding his arms.

“Seoshin Medical? Isn’t that run by Hyunwoo’s parents?” the drug lord inquires.

Namjoon nods stiffly, leaning over the large armchair the boss is sitting in. “Cunts.”

Jin claps his hands, earning the attention of both of the men in the room. “It’s owned by the Hyunwoo’s parents. So I called up some of the reps from the company, trying to figure out what truck would be on that route so late in the day. Turns out – there were no deliveries that day, they were all wiped from the system. So that truck should have been in the lot the whole evening.”

The drug lord sighs loudly, coursing his rough hands over his face.

“And just in case I was wrong, I checked through the footage again.” the oldest states, fastforwarding until one image is completely still on the screen.

While it’s blurry, it’s still clear enough to make out.

Both of the drivers have on sunglasses but the snake tattoos that curl beneath the shell of their ears is incredibly apparent. The green head of the snake tattoo curls up their sideburns and the sight makes Yoongi’s teeth grit.

“It was a hit on us.”

The words creep slowly throughout the air of the office.

The drug lord’s hands form fists and none of the men are surprised when he slams them down onto the desk.

He tilts his head to Joon, the silent man already mentally prepared for whatever the boss asks for.

“I want whichever two of those fucking lowlives who were driving that truck in this forest by tomorrow. I want them dead or alive,” your boyfriend seethes through his teeth.

“Yes, Boss.”

The scarred man stands, buttoning up his suit jacket. “I need a drink.”

You’ve become accustomed to daily life in the forest these days.

You start the day off by making coffee, you usually check your laptop for any work emails or pay any bills for the shop, later on you’ll check out the stock list that is diligently updated by Hanna and you’ll order supplies accordingly before sitting out in the gazebo with Yuqi and drinking wine until Yoongi is done with whatever illegal business he’s been taking care of throughout the day.

But you don’t even get past the second step in your routine when the bedroom door opens.

Yoongi is clearly irritated, dragging his fingertips over the large scar beneath his right eye.

“What’s wrong?” you ask immediately, closing your computer.

He doesn’t reply, closing the door and locking it before walking over to you with a swiftness that makes all your joints lock in place.

He grabs your hips, picking you up effortlessly and your breathing all but ceases to exist.

Hooking his hand around the back of your neck, he pulls you to him roughly.

He molds his lips to yours, the searing kiss making your eyes widen. You can feel the need for comfort practically oozing from him and your arms wrap around his shoulders instantly.

Keeping one hand on your lower back, he shoves up your dress until it’s just barely clinging to your breasts.

You hiss softly, burying your face into his sweet smelling neck and you’re more than ready to give him any distraction he needs.

“Fuck,” he curses loudly, tugging your underwear to the side.

His fingers glide over your lower lips, already feeling the arousal that begins to weep from your core and he groans.

Yoongi drops you down onto the bed, pulling off your dress with rough, unforgiving hands.

His cinnamon irises are burning with a deep, hellbent rage that only softens when you unhook your strapless bra.

He hums sweetly, kneeling down onto the floor and dragging you by the back of your calves until your core is in front of his face.

He licks at his lips slowly, looking over your now naked body.

“What’s wron-”

“Uh. Uh.” he tuts, kissing over your thigh.

You sigh shakily, letting your head loll back to the soft mattress.

“Let me just distract myself with your pretty cunt,” he breathes, splaying open your lower lips with his fingers.

You writhe beneath him, eyelids fluttering shut.

He spits on your cunt, watching as his spittle mixes with your spilled juices and he can’t think of a better way to let this burning anger deep inside of him diminish.

He licks up your folds, watching your back arch prettily in the early morning sun.

Your boyfriend suckles at your clit, keeping you pinned down to the bed with his iron-clad grip.

“Yoongi!” you gasp, fisting at the bedsheets.

Over the past few days since the accident he’s allowed himself to open up to you more and more and just this once, until you really ask for it, he’ll open up in the bedroom.

“You call me Sir when you address me,” he informs you.

You lift your head up, eyes widening down at him.

He wants you to do whatnow?

“You got that, baby doll?” he breathes, kissing up your thigh.

You’re completely dumbfounded by his words. When you open your mouth to respond – nothing comes out.

He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at your silence.

He gives a heady slap to the meat of your inner thigh, eyes lighting up with hedonistic intentions when your hips rise off the bed.

“I won’t ask you twice,” he seethes through his teeth.

“I heard you,” you choke out, allowing him to pin your hips back down.

“Then what do you call me?”

“S-Sir,” you chirp.

The way your entrance throbs at the simple word when it flows past your lips earns a wicked smirk from the drug lord between your legs.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, letting his tongue lap over your sensitive bud.

You can only moan at the praise, whimpering as he takes his sweet time.

Yoongi doesn’t feel the need to get you off within seconds, he wants to draw this out. If it lasts ten minutes, an hour, five hours – he’ll take what he needs until he’s calm again.

He simply grunts at the sweetness of your arousal on his tongue.

“Goddamn,” he hisses, flicking at your clit until your gasps are shorter and stunted.

When he feels the bud throb beneath his tongue, warning him of your release, he stops.

You cry out at the feeling, shivering as your orgasm ebbs away.

“S-Sir?” you whine, spreading your knees wider.

“I’m just playing with what’s mine, sweetheart.” he breathes, running his fingers over your soaked lips.

“But I was gonna cum,” you whimper.

“I know, baby. But I wasn’t ready for you to cum yet,” Yoongi quips, licking up your folds.

With a sweet whinge, you card your fingers through his hair.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he coos, dragging his wet muscle over your core.

“Fuck me,” you beg, looking down at him.

He smirks then, letting his hands roam over your smooth legs. “No, not yet. Not until you’re begging.”

“I-I am begging,” you blanch, lifting up on your elbows.

He clicks his teeth, lifting the hood of your clit and slowly flicking at it until your arms cave in.

“You’re not begging the way I want you to.” he replies simply.

“How would you like me to do that… Sir?” you gasp, gyrating your hips for more.

“You’ll know when I need you to,” he sighs.

He begins to ravage you once again, suckling and nibbling at your clit until your moans are practically screams.

The drug lord hooks his hands behind your knees, pushing them up until your pussy is spread wide before him.

He groans at the sight, licking at your core until you’re shaking and writhing under his ministrations.

“Finger me!” you gasp, hooking your hands around your legs.

“No,” he replies curtly, reaching up and pinching your nipples.

You whine loudly, undulating your hips.

“Please, Sir!” you beg.

Spitting on your cunt, he pulls away and you sob at the loss.

“Nothing is going in this tight virgin cunt until my cock does,” he coos, drifting the tip of his wet muscle over your entrance.

Your pussy contracts and weeps at the feeling, your chest tightens and your nails dig painfully into your skin.

“So then put your cock in!” you sob, throwing your head back.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he slaps your inner thigh once more. “Don’t take that tone with me, little brat. You’ll get my cock when you’re ready for it.”

“Sorry, Sir,” you murmur, opening your legs wider.

He makes tentative licks to your clit, watching your chest puff up with pleasure. “What’s that? I couldn’t hear you, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” you croak, squeezing your eyes shut.

“One more time?” he goads, suckling harshly.

“I’m sorry, Sir! Fuck!” you cry out, threading your hands into his black hair.

“Good girl, baby doll.” he praises.

His anger has completely melted away, only finding the sight before him his biggest concern.

The way your arousal drips down your supple cheeks and how your cheeks are tinged with the color of pleasure is all that seems to matter.

And it’s just so easy for him to lap at your core until you’re back to teetering on the precipice of your relief.

“Oh God! Fuck! Yes! Sir, right there!” you sob.

Your boyfriend can feel how your hands shake and shiver against his scalp. He can feel your nails drifting over his skin and he hums against you.

“You wanna cum?” he teases, rubbing circles to your clit with his thumb.

“Please, Sir!” you whimper.

He kisses up your body, suckling at your nipple until he releases it with a wet pop.

“I bet you do, sweetheart.” he coos, rubbing faster against you until you’re shivering beside him.

He kisses you then, gently slapping your core with the tips of his fingers.

“Oh my God, Sir, please! I’ll be such a good girl, I promise! J-Just please, let me,” you beg, tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket.

“You’re already such a good girl,” he murmurs, drifting his lips down your neck.

He pinches your clit sweetly, dragging the hood up and rolling his fingertips over the throbbing bud.

“Christ, your cunt is so fucking wet,” he groans against your skin.

You beg and plead, moaning until your throat is hoarse and dry.

“Cum,” he hisses into your ear, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth.

You whimper softly, feeling the pressing orgasm that’s kept your limbs stiff and shaking suddenly burst through you like a cosmos of stars forming a new planet.

Your body falls boneless onto the bed and Yoongi darkly chuckles as you squirt onto the sheets below you.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Give it to me.” he coos, kissing the top of your head repeatedly until you’re coddling to his chest.

He sighs deeply, the sound completely relaxed and free.

The drug lord wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he leans back against the headboard of his bed.

His lips drift over your shoulder and his eyes flutter shut at the stillness he feels.

In a way, this all feels brand new to him.

When he was younger, when he was with Sedra, he always had a pressing anxiousness deeply rooted in his heart.

He was unsure of himself, unsure of the people around him. But what could he expect? He was a teenager.

Now, with you here in his arms, he’s so fucking comfortable.

The sounds of your breathing returning to normal is a song unlike many others that he’d put down on the soundtrack of his life.

“Why do you have so many movie posters and models of cars?” you inquire, drifting your hands over his arm.

His eyes open and he stares straight ahead at the wall before him.

He hums thoughtfully.

He’s been open with you so far this week, he’ll keep it going, he surmises.

“When I was really young, I’ve told you this before, I ended up at the orphanage after my parents died in a car crash. I had memory loss for a long time. Even now I can’t properly remember what their faces looked like-”

You press your lips into a thin line, burying your face into his neck.

“- but after a while, I started to remember certain small things. Like my father was a really big car buff, I think. He always used to buy me toy cars and those little attachable car tracks that you could link up to make an arena or something. And my mother, she liked movies. We would watch the same movies over and over again, probably because I asked her but she never seemed to have a problem with it. I think she enjoyed spending time with me.”

You smile against his skin, letting the quick heartbeat of his chest resound through you.

It must not be easy to open up like this. Especially when you’ve been so closed off all these years.

“Who wouldn’t enjoy spending time with you? You’re great,” you breathe, looking up at him.

He chuckles, drifting his nose over your cheekbone. “Why’re you being so sweet? You want me to eat your pretty cunt again?”

“Well, I’d never say no to th-”

A knock at the door pulls your attention away from him.

“What?” he calls, kissing down your arm to move back towards the apex of your thighs.

“We know who they were. We’re going out now.” Jin calls back.

Yoongi freezes, letting his lips linger against your hip.

His eyes flicker to you and you can see this restless beginning to grow within him once more.

“Go,” he booms towards the door.

“Yes, Boss.”

The drug lord stands up, extending his hands to you. “Let’s go for a drive.”

You tilt your head, allowing him to pull you up to your feet. “Where?”

He slowly puts your bra back on, kissing over the back of your shoulder. “Somewhere special to me.”

Your boyfriend helps you slip back on your dress and you can’t help the way your heart stutters when he holds out his hand.

You grab his hand, following after him.

When he gets to the living room, he pulls a bottle of wine from the rack above the bar and he takes the throw blanket off of the couch.

“Going somewhere?” Guk quips from the kitchen doorway, a cookie between his teeth.

“Yeah, just going out for a drive.” you reply, smiling at your younger sibling.

He looks between you and his boss, softening at how happy you look.

“Well… just… be careful.” your brother breathes, smiling when you nod at him.

“Where’s Jimin?” Yoongi inquires, lighting a cigarette and draping the throw blanket over his shoulder.

“Right here, Boss. What do you need?” Jimin asks quickly, peeking his head out of the kitchen.

Yoongi smirks, the action completely changing his face.

“Go change my bedsheets.” he orders, pulling you towards the door.

“What? Me? Why?” Chim whines, throwing his head back.

“Cause you’re the bitch boy until you’ve made up for your mistakes,” your boyfriend quips, hooking his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

“What’s wrong with your sheets?” your brother inquires through his teeth.

You bury your face into the drug lord’s chest as he chuckles.

“They’re a little… soaked,” he chortles, shoving open the front door.

“Yoongi!” you hiss, smacking his chest as your neck heats up with embarrassment.

The scarred man winks down at you, swatting at your backside playfully. “Get going, sweetheart.”

Jimin and Jeongguk stare at the glass door as it swings shut, both of their eyes twitching for vastlydifferent reasons.

“Well, do you…do you wanna help me?” Jimin guffaws.

Your brother shoves the older man with a grimace, shaking his head like it can erase what he’s just witnessed.

“I’m not the bitch boy, you are.” your sibling quips, narrowly missing the playful slap Jimin tries to etch onto his cheek.

Guk folds his arms, watching the headlights of Yoongi’s car pull out of the long, winding driveway.

When he’s completely alone, he sighs heavily. “Please, just keep her safe,” he begs the heavens.

<—–Last Chapter Next Chapter—->

The Deal taglist – @jeon-junggoop,@btsarmy9593,@slothykrueger,@jcsmae,@milesjeon11, @cloudyblisss, @borahae-reads,@secretlycrazyhummingbird,@rjsmochii,@sugas-bbygirl,@ggukkieland,@hyungieyoongi,@chxmachxps,@dvalitaes,@vintageroses10,@maerawrrr,@flowerblu00,@veronawrites,@seoqity,@wozwaid,@hisbutton-nose,@sweetempathprunetree, @jinsearthh, @codeinebelle,@serious-addiction,@bt21chim,@rosquilleta,@dunixxd,@rkchmestizangmaldita,@openup-yourmind, @shesaysweirdthings, @marslena, @deathkat657, @yoonlattesworld, @that-funny-alien-28,@clutterfied, @belladaises, @silentkei, @btsnina, @shydestinyyouth, @thefreddieman, @kkklaudiaaa17

#the deal #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #drug dealeryoongi #drug lordyoongi #yoongi smut #bts fic

Wed, 27 Apr 2022 12:38:50

Drug Lord!Yoongi x Coffee Shop Owner!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 16.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Bruising, Bodily Pain, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Praise, Cum Swallowing, Nosy Hoseok, Cunnilingus, Begging, Verbal Argument

There’s an exorbitant amount of groaning that graces your ears the second you wake up.

When your eyes shoot open, you can blearily see Yoongi trying to simply get out of bed.

“Let me help you,” you murmur.

The drug lord practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice.

“Fuck! You scared me! …I’m sorry I woke you,” he gasps, putting his hand over his heart.

Sitting up, you put your hand on his elbow. He hums gratefully, cringing when he lifts himself off of the bed.

“Come on, big guy.” you breathe, kicking the blankets off of you to take him to the bathroom.

Yoongi slings his arm over your shoulder, letting his head hang forward. His breathing is shallow, sucking gentle puffs of air through his teeth.

In the bright morning light that streams through the large windows of the drug lord’s room, you can see the bruises that have formed on his body overnight.

They’re large purple and black spots that decorate his tattooed body all over. It’s a saddening sight to see.

“Thank you, baby doll,” he breathes, leaning against the door post of the bathroom and closing his eyes.

“Let me turn on the shower for you,” you suggest, helping him sit down on the toilet.

He cards his fingers through his hair, bearing the pain and trying to shove it deep down inside of him.

When he looks over at you, watching how quick you are to help him… his heart… it hurts more than any of his limbs.

“Why’d you… Why’d you sleep in your dress? You should have put on one of my shirts.” the drug lord croaks, seeing the indents on your thighs from your tight dress.

“I was so worried that I passed right out.” you inform him, turning the shower on.

He shakes his head, grasping your hand and pulling you toward him even though it hurts like hell.

He flinches when your hands grasp onto his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Listen, Y/N-” he breathes, pressing his forehead to the backs of your hands.

“Just take a shower,” you cut him off.

“I got something to say, let me say it.” he pleads, looking up at you.

His face is shades of blue and black with yellow outlining. Just the sight of the bruises maring his handsome face makes you want to weep.

“I need you to know that last night… what I said about thinking of you before that car crashed…” Yoongi whispers, looking up into your eyes, “What I said about how I was scared I wouldn’t make it back to you… I meant that. And it shouldn’t have taken me a near death experience to want to open up to you like this.”

You widen your eyes at how softly he speaks his words.

“You mean more to me than I expected… If I’m thinking of you in near death experiences… Well… you’ve really torn down a huge chunk of that wall like you wanted.”

The tips of your ears burn from his sweet admission and the back of your neck becomes hot in a mere second.

“I don’t want you going anywhere, baby doll. I want to be able to open up to you and let you in… no matter how long it takes.” he breathes, closing his eyes when you run your thumb softly over his bruised cheekbone.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise.

The drug lord runs his hands over the curve of your hips, drifting his eyes over your gorgeous face.

The bathroom seems so still with emotions that are trying to claw their way out of both of your chests.

The hot steam of the shower rolls over the both of you in waves as you stare at each other.

It’s as if you’re frozen – frozen in time, trying not to let the moment pass.

“Fuck,” he curses softly, standing slowly as he grips the marble countertop of the sink.

“Do you want me to leave?” you inquire, opening the glass door for him.

“No, stay, it’s not like you’ll be able to get your rocks off anyway,” he quips, tapping the large black out bar across the glass which would cover his private areas all too well.

It’s practically sinful to enjoy the sight before you as he sheds his briefs.

His backside is taut and firm, his thick thigh muscles flexing and shaking without much effort.

It’s gotten way too hot in this large bathroom but for right now you’re going to blame that on the steam that permeates throughout the room.

You take a seat on the large leather bench beside the shower, allowing your eyes to drift over the top half of the drug lord’s body.

His torso has bruises and scrapes but it could never take away from the perfection before your eyes.

Yoongi hisses when the water begins to patter against his back. His fingers card through his black hair and your mouth practically drops open at how erotic he looks.

“I-I should go…” you announce, feeling your mouth become dry and parched.

His head lolls back, appreciating the hot water that soothes his aching muscles. His hands run over his face and he can’t help the cocky smirk that graces his features.

“You can come in and join me,” he suggests, opening one eye and looking at your frazzled expression.

“I-I…”

You can’t make out words, you don’t even know how to put sentences together anymore.

He chuckles at your demeanor, letting his hands fall from his face. “It’s not often that you’re at a loss for words. No witty comeback? No ’fuck you’? Well I’ll be damned.”

You sneer at his giddy smile.

He’s enjoying this just a little bit too much.

“You know… as my girlfriend, this is all yours. You can take a peek whenever you’d like.” he mumbles, grabbing his body wash.

And that brings an excellent question to mind.

“Am I really your girlfriend though? Or is it still fake?”

The bottle tumbles out of his hands and he blinks at you.

Well, he can’t say he’s too surprised. He never clarified it. He just expected you to know.

“You’re my girlfriend.”

He sounds roughly around twelve years old during his admission. His voice quivers and he has to clear his throat directly after with hopes that he didn’t sound too shocked.

He hasn’t said those words and meant them for… years.

You find yourself nodding.

“Oh… okay.”

When he bends down to grab the body wash, he groans loudly.

The sound is so painful and so sudden that you find yourself standing up in an instant.

“Good Christ Almighty,” he seethes through his teeth, pressing his hands up against the steamy glass divider.

Without a second thought, you strip out of your dress.

His head lifts when he notices the pooling fabric and his eyes slowly work over every inch of your exposed skin.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” he inquires, stepping back when you open up the glass door.

He politely shields his loins with his hands, raising an eyebrow when you bend down to grab the bottle of body wash.

The drug lord’s mind races at a mile a minute, rolling his eyes when his cock jumps at the sight of your skin becoming damp from the shower head.

He’s like a virgin in this moment, trying to will his erotic thoughts away.

But it doesn’t do much good when your white lingerie becomes see-through. Your nipples pebble against the fabric and you’re so consumed with helping him wash that you don’t even register your body being on full display.

“I can do it myself, get out.” he instructs softly.

When you stand back up straight, you take in how his chest and abs glisten deliciously.

You swallow thickly, drifting your gaze over him as he does the same.

His tongue sweeps over his bruised and split lips, keeping his gaze affixed to the swell of your breasts.

His bodily pain is nowhere to be found as he wraps his arms around your naked waist.

You gasp loudly when he pulls you roughly to his chest, the bottle falls to the shower floor with a loud thump and your heart picks up speed in an instant.

His hard cock presses into your hip and you can only whimper at the rigidity of it.

“I need to buy you some waterproof underwear,” he quips, pressing you up against the marble tiles of the shower.

The coolness of the wall floods you with relief as your body grows ever hotter.

His large hand cups your cheek, thumb drifting over your parted lips.

“Your skin is so soft,” he croons, dragging his lips over your jaw.

Your mind is blank, only prayers and pleading echo throughout your skull begging him to keep descending.

“Tell me to stop,” he begs, kissing down the column of your neck.

“N-No,” you choke out, angling your face away for him to have more access to your body.

He groans gently, the noise sending your skin alight with goosebumps.

Running his hands over your soaked skin, his thumbs swipe over your pebbled nipples.

When you gasp gently, seeing stars in your vision, he takes the opportunity to kiss you.

His tongue dominates yours in an instant, showing you even when he’s hurt – he’s still in charge.

Your hands are clumsy compared to his, drifting over his abs until his hard cock is in your palm.

He shudders before you, burying his forehead into the nape of your neck.

It’s been a long time since he’s been touched. A long time since he’s had the comfort of a woman.

Wrapping your hand around his generous length, you adore the gentle groans and moans that echo throughout the shower.

With a growl, he rips your bra away, turning it into useless fabric within seconds.

You pump his cock with a whimper, letting your bottom lip tuck safely between your teeth.

“Fuck, just like that baby doll.” Yoongi hisses, kissing down your chest.

His hands come to cup the supple cheeks of your backside, squeezing roughly when you drag your thumb along the tip of his bulbous head.

“I-I’ve never… I’ve never done this before,” you admit softly, preening when his lips suckle marks to the skin around your areolas.

His tongue flicks softly at your stiff peaked nipple, grabbing your hand on his cock and moving it with his own.

“Feels good,” he purrs, palming the skin of your ass.

It’s a fleeting thought that crosses his mind, but an important one.

Jeongguk has mentioned your virginity in passing but the drug lord just assumed that your brother had this rose-colored image of you.

“Baby doll, are you a virg-” his sentence is cut short with a groan as you grip his cock tighter.

He kisses over your heated skin to show attention to your other nipple and you can only whine needily.

In a moment of boldness, you decide to take charge.

You turn your bodies, pressing the drug lord against the wall and his head leans back with a gentle thump.

Kissing down his chest, you take your time over the bruises and marred skin.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles, carding his fingers through the soaked tendrils of your hair.

Your knees hit the smooth tile beneath your feet and your mind reels at the sight before you.

His cock is long and thick, two toned and throbbing with want. His bulbous head is a needy red and the gentle curve of his cock entices you completely.

Parting your lips, you lick a circle around the head, hoping to not be too clumsy or too uneducated about it.

“Oh my God,” Yoongi seethes, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

You take his long length slowly into your mouth, allowing your tongue to glide over the throbbing base.

Yoongi can feel your nerves, he can feel your unsure actions and it’s so erotic to him that he tugs your hair roughly.

“Fuck, baby doll, just like that. Keep going,” he coos, pinching and rolling your nipple with his free hand.

You moan against his cock, preening for more.

The vibrations of your mouth make him rigid, his muscles flex and he can’t control the string of curses that pour from his lips.

You swallow around him, taking him deep within your throat. The taste of his precum is musky and thick.

Your boyfriend praises you sweetly, watching with avid eyes as your legs part with erotic intentions.

You work assiduously on his length, getting sloppier and faster with each passing minute.

“Christ, your mouth feels so fucking good,” he whispers, tugging your hair.

You can only think of pleasing this man before you, showing him how much he’s come to mean to you.

“You wanna swallow?” he inquires, thrusting his hips to meet your mouth.

You whine in agreement, grabbing onto his hips as he begins to fuck your face.

“God, I’ve been dying to know what this pretty mouth could do.” he coos, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You can feel his cock beginning to throb in the recesses of your throat and your mind is completely enraptured with wanting him to finish.

You cup his balls with one hand, rolling and squeezing them to further his pleasure.

“Oh sweetheart, shit!” he cries out.

He moans long and low, pumping his cock slowly into your mouth as he cums.

He sighs shakily, combing his fingers through your hair sweetly.

When you pull off of him, he angles your face to look up at him.

“Open your mouth,” he insists, tugging your chin down with his thumb and index finger.

You do as told, whimpering as you do so.

“Good girl,” he praises, peeking into your empty mouth.

He runs his hand over your cheek when the door swings open.

“Boss, we heard something fall. You alright?” Hoseok inquires.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, shielding what can be seen of your body through the glass with his own.

“I’m fine. Get out.” he orders, helping you stand back up.

Hoseok widens his eyes at the sight before him, leaving the bathroom with a quickness.

“C'mere,” Yoongi murmurs, pulling you closer by the back of your neck.

You moan into the heated kiss, allowing him to pull you out of the shower.

Your body tingles with satisfaction and your skin feels on fire with need.

The shivers your body racks with when you enter his cool bedroom bring you back to reality.

The drug lord’s gaze holds something powerful and knowing as he lays you down on his large bed.

He doesn’t care that the sheets are soaked, he doesn’t care that his body is throbbing with pain, not when he spreads your legs.

Tearing off your thong, he groans at the sight before him.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he praises, wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you in place.

Your breath hitches loudly when he inches his way towards your core.

“Have you ever had your pretty cunt eaten?” he inquires, kissing over your bare pubic bone.

You shake your head softly, lips parting when he suckles on one of your lower lips.

“So you really are a virgin, hmm?” he coos, watching your hips lift off the bed on their own volition.

You would be embarrassed if he wasn’t looking at you like a starving man who’s just entered a five star buffet.

He licks a flat stripe up your sex, adoring how your body becomes boneless atop his mattress.

He’s taken women’s virginities before but he won’t take yours. Not until you ask for it.

He didn’t respect them like he respects you.

And you deserve to be respected. You deserve to be adored.

And he’ll act accordingly.

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your swelling clit, adoring the cry of pleasure you emit.

You’re soaking wet, simply leaking with arousal for your boyfriend before you.

He lets your thighs go, running his hands over your stomach until your breasts are being shielded by his hands.

“Y-Yoongi,” you moan softly, bunching your hands into his thick black hair.

He hums against your core, pinching and rolling your nipples until your hips are lifting and gyrating.

“Just like that, baby doll. You’re soaked for me.” Yoongi murmurs, suckling at your clit until your toes are curling.

The way your boyfriend’s eyes stay glued to your pleasured face and the way his eyebrows knit with each stunted moan and each prayer of his name that falls from your lips bring you that much closer to release.

His finger toys with your entrance, groaning at how impossibly tight it feels.

But he doesn’t dare enter it.

He’ll wait until hell freezes over for you to let him in.

“Cum for me, baby doll. Give it to me.” he begs, licking at your clit faster.

It’s a simple thought that possesses his mind.

He will be the first man to take an orgasm from you.

And once he gets that from you, he’s going to never let go.

“Yoongi!” you sob, tugging on his hair harder.

“Mmm,” he moans against your core, egging you on until your thighs are locking and squeezing around his shoulders.

The roar of pleasure is so loud in your ears that your rising sobs of pleasure feel as if they’re whispers.

The drug lord suckles rougher, letting his teeth graze against your throbbing bud. Your back bows off the bed and you find yourself panting like a dog in heat as the bubble within you threatens to explode.

“Good girl, sweetheart. Cum for me.” Yoongi coos.

Your hands quiver and your eyes squeeze shut when he pinches your nipples gently.

It feels as if your orgasm is forcibly being pulled from your loins, it’s building so high that your moans turn into incoherent babbling.

When your boyfriend nibbles gently on your throbbing bud, the bubble explodes.

He holds down your hips as your body shakes through your throes of pleasure. Your ears ring and your loud moans curdle into soft whimpers.

“Fuck, that was beautiful.” the drug lord breathes, kissing up your body until he’s face to face with you.

You give him a tired, shy smile as he presses his forehead to yours.

He sees how you angle your body as if to hide yourself from his sight and he clicks his teeth accordingly. “You don’t ever need to hide from me, you’re a vision to look at.”

Your cheeks burn at his sweet words.

You can’t even begin to understand what just happened.

“Thank you, baby doll. That was amazing,” he whispers, giving you a gentle kiss.

When he stands up, cringing finally at the pain that echoes throughout his limbs, you can only frown.

“I’m gonna go downstairs and get a drink. Do you want a glass of wine?” he inquires, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

“Sure, yeah. Thanks,” you mumble, leaning up on your elbows.

He can hear the caution in your voice and it doesn’t sit well with him.

Kneeling one leg on the bed, he plants a chaste kiss against your lips once more.

“Don’t think this makes me see you any differently, you’re still the same gorgeous, stubborn girl I’ve come to like.” he avows, kissing down your neck until you let out a giggle.

“I’ve just never… y'know… been with someone like that.”

He smiles then, a wicked, breathtaking smile. “Well get used to it, this bed is too big just for me.”

He knocks his forehead into yours gently before standing and easing on a pair of briefs.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises.

The drug lord begins to whistle to himself as he descends the staircase.

Even with this bodily pain, there’s still so much more to be happy about.

Yoongi can count on his fingers the amount of times he’s felt just pure, unadulterated bliss in the last couple of years.

You’re special.

You’re perfect.

You’re his.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he makes eye contact with your brother.

Jeongguk’s jaw is taught, nostrils flaring with unease and Hoseok beside him looks happier than a clam.

Yoongi sighs loudly, brushing past both of the men to grab you a bottle of wine from the wine rack above the bar.

“Did you have fun making my sister damaged goods?” Guk spits, folding his arms.

“Come on Gukkie, Boss didn’t do anything to your sister that she didn’t ask for.” Hoseok chuckles.

This time it’s Yoongi’s job to manhandle the man.

Shoving a chair out of his way, he grabs onto Hoseok’s shirt with both hands. Your boyfriend slams him up against the wall, closing one eye as smoke rises lazily from the cigarette between his lips.

“Don’t talk about my woman like that, you understand me? Whatever you think you saw upstairs better be a figment of your fucking imagination.” Yoongi threatens, pressing his forearm against the man’s throat.

Hoseok holds up his hands, nodding ever so slightly.

“Sorry, Boss,” Seok wheezes, gasping for air when he’s finally released from your boyfriend’s clutches.

Shaking his head, the drug lord pours himself a glass of Scotch.

“And you,” he calls to Jeongguk, “I’d never fucking hurt your sister. So stop being such a little bitch about it. She’s not ’damaged goods.’ She’s not ’ruined’ with me. She’s a good girl and I’d never do anything to hurt her. So man the fuck up. If you wanna complain about it, go complain to your sister who is upstairs in my bed.”

Yoongi grabs a wine glass, staring down your younger sibling. He gives him a moment to move towards the staircase but Jeongguk’s feet are cemented to the floor.

“I’m tired of repeating my-fucking-self. I’m not going to hurt her and I won’t say it again.” Yoongi announces, walking towards the staircase.

“Hyung…” Guk calls when his boss begins to ascend the stairs.

Yoongi turns around, raising an eyebrow at the younger man who seems to make himself smaller under his intense glare.

“I just love her so much, y'know. It’s only ever been us… We’ve always looked out for each other. She’s never had another man to protect her before.” Jeongguk announces, looking down at his bruised hands.

“Nothing is going to happen to her, Guk. I would never allow it.” Yoongi promises, leaning over the banister.

Your brother nods, keeping his eyes affixed to his cut up knuckles.

“Hey,” the drug lord calls to him.

Guk looks up, the expression so lost and so confused.

“I mean it.” Yoongi says, taking off to his bedroom.

<—–Last Chapter Next Chapter——>

The Deal taglist – @jeon-junggoop,@btsarmy9593,@slothykrueger,@jcsmae,@milesjeon11, @cloudyblisss, @borahae-reads,@secretlycrazyhummingbird,@rjsmochii,@sugas-bbygirl,@ggukkieland,@hyungieyoongi,@chxmachxps,@dvalitaes,@vintageroses10,@maerawrrr,@flowerblu00,@veronawrites,@seoqity,@wozwaid,@hisbutton-nose,@sweetempathprunetree, @jinsearthh, @codeinebelle,@serious-addiction,@bt21chim,@rosquilleta,@dunixxd,@rkchmestizangmaldita,@openup-yourmind, @shesaysweirdthings, @marslena, @deathkat657, @yoonlattesworld, @that-funny-alien-28,@clutterfied, @belladaises, @silentkei, @btsnina, @shydestinyyouth

#the deal #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #drug dealeryoongi #drug lordyoongi #yoongi smut #bts fic

Wed, 20 Apr 2022 12:19:53

Drug Lord!Yoongi x Coffee Shop Owner!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 20.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Namjoon Backstory (It’s A Heartbreaker), Yoongi’s Surprise Gift

Your muscles scream and protest with every step you take on this early Sunday morning.

Yoongi hasn’t woken up yet and you take it upon yourself to make him breakfast in bed – although you find yourself giggling when you realize it’s only a flat white and a cigarette.

Your body is slowly getting used to waking up later and later as you spend more days in this forest. Sometimes you wonder what state your apartment must be in now that Taehyung is the only one who resides there.

You only hope he sleeps in Guk’s bed in the guest room rather than yours.

You think of other things too, you have all the time in the world underneath the thick canopies of trees above you. Thinking of things like just how irrelevant is the deal you’ve made with Yoongi now, how willing is he to start this new open life with you and will he be able to keep it up.

Your hands dance effortlessly as you turn on the intricate coffee machines and you’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t hear the back door open.

When you see slow movement out of the corner of your eye, the first thing your body wants to do is freeze but your training with Yoongi over the past three weeks has provided more than you think it has.

Your body moves on its own, dropping the expensive espresso powder and getting into a protective stance. Your chin lifts as if Yoongi is drawing it upwards with his index finger and your hands clench into fists.

“Relax, Bruce Lee.” Yuqi breathes, throwing a towel at your head.

You turn your head to her, your expression immediately turns into a scowl and she giggles freely.

“You scared me,” you gasp, putting your hand over your heart.

“Well at least you’re ready for trouble,” she quips, jumping up onto the island and crossing her legs.

“What’re you doing up so early?” you inquire, packing the tamper with espresso.

“I got into a fight with Joonie,” she grumbles, grabbing the bag of coffee grinds and examining it.

You’re surprised to hear such words. Yuqi and Namjoon are the most lovey-dovey couple you’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

“What’d you fight about?” you ask timidly, steaming cream.

“You,” she chirps, looking down at her nails.

With wide eyes, you pass her a mug of her favorite morning drink. You start on Yoongi’s flat white with notched eyebrows.

“Wh-What about me? What’d I do wrong?” you bleat, turning to her.

She shakes her head vigorously at your nervous demeanor. “No, don’t worry. It’s nothing that you’ve done. It’s something I brought up that Namjoon told me not to be so nosy. But I don’t know how to mind my own business so I don’t know why he keeps wasting his breath after all these years,” she murmurs, looking down at her wedding band.

“What were you wondering?” you ask, putting together your boyfriend’s drink.

She sets down her coffee and tugs down the front of her shirt to show the tiger tattoo situated above her breast. “I was wondering when you’re gonna get one of these.”

You remember seeing Sedra have a small tattoo that was visible during the last event you went to.

“What does it mean?” you ask, leaning onto the island and staring at the ink that seems like it’s been on her body for years.

“It means that you’re taken for lifeby one of the family. Yours, of course, would be outlined in gold because you’re with the head of the family.”

You do remember seeing some sort of bright outline on Sedra’s but her tattoo looked faded and just the slightest bit clumsy like she’d gotten it years and years ago.

“I see,” you sigh, grabbing Yoongi’s coffee.

“I guess I should go apologize, fighting with Namjoon really sucks. It strains his vocal cords and I feel terrible.” Yuqi announces, setting down her empty mug and tapping the island.

She gives you a kiss on the cheek before she’s out the door with a heavy groan.

Your mind is swimming with thoughts as you climb up the staircase.

There’s so many intricate details to this life that constantly keep you intrigued. In some ways you wish you could just sit Yoongi down for a detailed Q&A but to respect him and his lifestyle, you let him tell you what he deems as important.

Slowly creeping into the bedroom, you’re surprised to see your boyfriend awake. He’s sitting up against the headboard, surrounded by his adorable dogs that shower him with early morning attention.

“Where you been?” he breathes, giving you a smile.

“I was downstairs making you coffee and got caught up talking to Yuqi,” you announce, padding over to him and handing him his coffee.

“Why was she here so early?” he inquires, patting the spot beside him as the dogs jump off the bed at his command.

“She got into a fight with Namjoon,” you tell him, coddling into his side.

He sips his coffee, rolling his eyes. “Why must she strain his voice? What’d they fight about?”

“Us,” you chirp.

Yoongi sighs loudly, lighting a cigarette with an even heavier eye roll than the last.

“Yuqi needs to keep her nose out of things. She’s so fucking nosy. She’s always been nosy, it’s programmed in her DNA or something.” he scoffs, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yuqi said the same thing… that she strained his vocal cords. What happened to him?” you inquire softly, laying your cheek to his muscled chest.

Yoongi lets out a long sigh, one that sounds pained and stuttered. “Just don’t talk about it to anyone, alright? Namjoon doesn’t like to be spoken about, really.”

You give a nod, drifting your fingers over the planes of his abs. The scarred man watches you for a moment, appreciating how freeing this is.

“Before Joon came to the orphanage, he was in a situation quite like mine. He was in the car with his parents when some stupid fuck ran a red light and slammed into his car.”

Your fingers freeze and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“His car kept going and going because his dad’s foot was on the gas pedal when he died. His parents… they didn’t buckle him in properly and when the car was forcibly stopped by the railing of the highway… he flew out of his seat.”

You shake your head at the simple thought, opening your eyes to not see imagined images of the strong, silent man when he was a child.

Yoongi lets out a shaky breath, pulling from his cigarette as he stares at the movie posters just ahead of him.

“He flew so fast into the driver’s seat in front of him that it was almost like a Major League Pitcher threw him. He was going at like… seventy miles an hour just to have his throat slam against the driver’s headrest. So his throat began to collapse. All the cartilage in his throat broke. He was basically choking to death on blood and clogged airways.”

Shivering, you squeeze your boyfriend tighter and he acts accordingly. He runs his hand over your back, shaking his head at the mere memory of seeing Joon arrive at the orphanage.

“When the EMTs got to him, they were able to open up his airways again. After surgery they fixed everything in his throat but they couldn’t save his voice box. It’s all scratchy and pained like that because it still hasn’t healed from when he was a kid. It hurts him to talk so he prefers to stay silent.”

“Oh my God,” you whisper, pressing your face into his chest.

He hums in agreement, setting down his mug and cigarette and wrapping his arms around you.

“People used to make fun of him at school. We took care of them for him. No one and I mean no one gets away with making Joon upset. Not on my watch. That’s my brother.”

You can feel your eyes stinging, how fucking terrible.

The both of you are silent for what feels like hours. You find comfort in one another as you let the solemnity of the tale wash over you like cold waves.

“What’d they fight about?” Yoongi inquires, combing his fingers through your hair.

Pulling back, you tap your fingers to the large tiger tattoo on the side of his neck. “When I’m going to get the gold tiger.”

He sighs loudly, laying down on his back and putting his hands beneath his head as he looks up at the ceiling.

“It’s none of Yuqi’s fucking business. She needs to keep her nose out of shit.”

“I noticed that Sedra had one, that night at the ball. And Yuqi has one on her chest.” you announce, sitting up.

He follows your lead, drifting his lips over your shoulder.

“It means that you’d be mine forever. You know that right? Did Yuqi tell you that? Once you get that ink… you’d be my wife in all things even if it isn’t legally bound.”

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Yuqi told me.”

Yoongi’s forehead presses to the nape of your neck, his arms wrap around you and he’s so comfortable that if you were to get the tattoo right now, in this very moment, he’d be more than content for the rest of his days.

“I think you’re gonna be the only woman I’m gonna need for the rest of my life,” he breathes, letting the tips of his fingers drift down each notch of your spine.

“You think?” you giggle, turning your head.

“It’s too early to get emotional,” he chuckles, closing his eyes.

“Too early to be emotionally constipated as well,” you jeer.

“Touche,” the drug lord murmurs, looking up at the wall in front of him again.

And after a moment, he lets his heart bleed for you. “You’re smart and funny. You’re headstrong and perfectly resilient. You’re everything I need. I’m completely happy to spend the rest of my life with you, completely okay with having you by my side as my woman for the rest of my days.”

You take in a sharp breath, turning and looking him over for any sign of humor.

But you find none.

He’s completely serious.

“Wow,” you breathe, at a loss for words.

“You tell me when you’re ready for the tiger. I’ll let you get it today, tomorrow, a month from now, two years from now. I want you, Y/N. I want you with me,” he states confidently, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I don’t have any tattoos,” you murmur, looking down at your ink free skin.

“The tiger is the only one you’ll need.” he promises, kissing you softly.

It’s difficult for Yoongi to picture his life without you now. He always sees you in every single dream or idea for the future.

You’re becoming this safe haven to him.

You’re a home for him when he’s had none since early childhood.

The drug lord gets pissed at himself when he thinks about how he tried to push you away for so long – how he tried to block you out with some sort of cheap, fabricated wall that in the end did nothing for him.

Staring down at the chocolate bar that he made Taehyung run ragged for, he hopes this shows you just an iota of what you mean to him.

“Sir?” the waiter asks.

“Put this on a plate for dessert please, wrapper and all.” Yoongi instructs, slipping the waiter a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

Striding back over to the private room, he watches you through the cracked door for a moment. You’re constantly smoothing out the skirt of your dress and you look jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

He lets himself just take you in for what feels like days.

You’re just so right for him.

You’re solely his and he knows it so well.

You’re open with him and commanding when you need to be.

You’re his family now.

His foot taps the door and your attention shoots to the room entrance. He curses under his breath, slipping back into the room with a small smile.

“How was it?” he inquires, pointing to your almost empty plate.

“Amazing,” you chirp, resting your chin on your fist.

“Good,” he coos, planting a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Should we order dessert?” you ask, looking up at him as he rounds the beautifully intricate table.

“I got something coming,” he promises, unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting down across from you.

“Is it a surprise? You love dessert and you love to tell me what we’re eating more so.” you quip, picking up your flute of champagne.

“This is…This is special,” he whispers, drifting his fingers over the pristine table cloth.

His hands are fidgeting and you can practically feel him trying to stop himself from touching his scar. He hasn’t touched the gnarled skin for weeks.

Which makes you painfully curious.

When he picks up his glass of champagne, you watch him guzzle it like he’s dying of thirst.

“Are you… proposing to me?”

He chokes on his alcohol, grabbing his linen napkin and pressing it to his lips with wide eyes.

“Jesus Christ, baby doll. You sure know how to pick your moments.” he gasps, dabbing at his damp black tie.

“Sorry,” you chirp, hiding your giggle with the palm of your hand.

“Do you want me to propose?”

“Do you want to propose?”

You both laugh when you speak at the same time and you laugh louder when you respond with the same exact word at the same time.

“Yes.”

The simple word hangs in the air for quite a long time. You can only stare at one another, as if you’re sketching one another out in your minds.

The dining room doors are pushed open slowly and you smile at the waiter who holds a pretty glass plate in hand.

The glass is put down in front of you and you’re stunned into silence.

You stare down at the chocolate bar, mind reeling with how long it’s been since you’ve actually seen one.

“Lynwicks,” you breathe, looking down at the gold and blue wrapping.

Your eyes sting with fresh tears and you have to tear your gaze away for a moment to try and collect yourself.

“How did you… Oh my God,” you gasp.

Yoongi watches you with a fist tucked beneath his chin, he watches every emotion he can think of flit over your expression before gratefulness is the profound emotion your face tells.

Your hand slides over your heart and you can barely hold back the sob that threatens to rip from your throat.

“Jeongguk told me you really liked these. So I had Taehyung search all over the country until he found some.”

Your laugh is broken, a lump situating itself in your throat while a few stray tears careen over your cheekbones.

Gliding your fingers over the raised letters of the foil, you lean back in your chair.

“I don’t wanna eat it,” you croak, grabbing your champagne and wiping childishly at your tears with the back of your hand.

The drug lord gives a small smile, running his hands over his tattooed scalp. “We have more at the house, you can eat this comfortably.”

You don’t have any words to express just how profoundly he’s stunned you.

He stands up and although he’s a blurry figure, you still watch him with rapt fascination.

He crouches down beside you, tilting your chin upward.

“This bar… it means… it’s not just a chocolate bar,” you sob, putting your hands to his chest.

He chuckles, gliding his thumbs over your wet cheeks. “I see that.”

You smile, sniffling just enough that Yoongi’s heart clenches.

With shaky hands you open up the bar, trying your hardest not to rip the foil or make any creases.

The large L’s on each pre-cut square make you almost dizzy with memory and the crisp snap the tempered chocolate makes has you almost in tears all over again.

With a shaky hand, you bring the chocolate to your lips.

There’s an explosion of flavor in your mouth as it touches your tongue. It’s never a taste that you really enjoyed but it’s a taste that holds so much memory that it feels like heaven.

“How is it?” your boyfriend inquires, combing some hair back behind your ear.

“Tastes like shit. I love it,” you laugh, putting your hand over your mouth.

He laughs loudly, raising an eyebrow at the chocolate in your hand when you offer it to him.

You wash the taste down with champagne, giving a small smile to Yoongi as he takes the chocolate into his mouth. His teeth nibble playfully at the pad of your thumb and he grimaces at the taste at once.

“It’s the most amazing shitty chocolate of all time,” you breathe, pulling him into a hug.

“Why’s it so special, sweetheart?” he coos, drifting his hand over your back.

“My mom, she would get this for me on important days. We didn’t have much money and we barely ever ate dessert. But she would buy me this bar on days when it was important. My kindergarten graduation. My first time at the zoo. My first A in middle school. When she told me she was getting remarried. Even though it tastes so bad, it tastes… amazing. Does that make sense?”

Yoongi pulls back, putting his large, warm hands on either side of your face. “Yeah. It does.” he promises.

“I wanna be your Lynwicks bar,” you whisper softly.

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears when your words creep through the air.

His thumb drifts over your lower lip and his eyes are intense as they stare into yours.

“Youaremy Lynwicks bar.”

Leaning forward, you press your forehead to his.

No one has ever done something like this for you before. No one has ever made you feel this sort of dizzy elation that makes your bones feel like powder every time you look at them. It’s so intense, it’s almost blinding.

You press your lips to his, enjoying the hum of satisfaction that rumbles from his throat.

“I want the tiger,” you avow, against him.

He takes in a sharp breath, pulling back just enough to search your eyes thoroughly.

“You’re sure?” he inquires, cupping your face.

“Yes. I want it.” you state plainly.

“Then you’ll have it,” he promises, kissing you sweetly enough that you feel weightless in the private dining room.

<—–Last Chapter Next Chapter ——>

#the deal #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #drug dealeryoongi #drug lordyoongi #yoongi smut #bts fic #bts fics

Wed, 25 May 2022 13:03:11

Drug Lord!Yoongi x Coffee Shop Owner!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 19.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Fluff, Jeongguk Being A Good Idiot

You stayed out with Yoongi just talking and holding each other for so long that you lost track of time.

You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep on him high above the city lights but you’re woken up by shouting.

“Where have you been?!” Jeongguk booms.

You feel weightless and you can feel the fine fabric of your boyfriend’s suit against your cheek.

“Is she alright!?” your brother asks shakily.

When you stir in the drug lord’s arms, he coos softly. “We’re home, sweetheart, keep sleeping.”

“You’ve been gone for hours and you haven’t answered any calls!” Guk yells.

“Simmer down,” Yoongi seethes through his teeth.

Turning your face to look at your brother you can see the sheer amount of worry in his expression.

“I’m okay, we were just on a date.” you promise groggily.

He seems to relax visibly at the sound of your voice but his eyes are still narrowed with a steel-like glaze over them.

“I called and called and calledand neither one of you picked up,” he scoffs, folding his arms.

“You’re not my mother, I can take my girlfriend on a date without having to notify you.” Yoongi breathes, walking towards the staircase.

“Put me down,” you tell your boyfriend.

He rolls his eyes, setting you gently on the ground. “My bedroom,” he tells you, planting a chaste kiss to your hairline.

You give him a nod before turning to your brother.

“I was worried about you, noona!” he hisses, planting his hand on either of your shoulders. “You shouldn’t be out there when we have… things going on in the forest.”

“You mean the two men that were taken here?”

Yoongi did his best to explain to you what was going on, he told you just enough to keep you informed but not enough that could implicate you in any way. You appreciated it. He didn’t have to tell you anything but just knowing that he trusts you enough and cares about you enough to involve you to some degree makes you feel special.

“H-He told you?” your little brother stutters, pulling away from you like you’ve burned him.

“Well yeah, I mean while we were out we got closer and we talked and it was… amazing.” you breathe, smoothing out your dress.

Jeongguk grimaces, shaking his head at the thought. “Chill out. I don’t want to hear about your late night hanky panky sessions.”

“We haven't… done that yet, so…”

“Ew! Stop! I don’t want to hear about anything you and my boss do! It’s gross! It’s so wrong there should be laws against this kinda thing!”

You find yourself smirking as he sticks his fingers in his ears childishly.

You pat his chest with a laugh, walking over to the bar to pour Yoongi a glass of bourbon.

“I just… I just want you to be careful. This life is not what I want for you. You worked hard to move away from where we grew up and I don’t want you getting hurt by the same type of people,” Guk whispers, looking up at the staircase to make sure his boss isn’t around.

The cap to the decanter gives a loud squeak as you jam it back into the crystal bottle and you turn to your brother with a small smile.

“I know, Gukkie. I do. But you’re "the same type of people” now too. Yoongi wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. I know it to be a fact. I really, really like him and he likes me too.“

Your brother sighs, looking up at the brass chandelier above him. "I’ve just known Yoongi for a while now and while I’ve never seen him with a woman… I don’t know if he would ever treat you like you should be treated. You’ve never been in a relationship before and I don’t want you to be consumed with the idea that Yoongi is your end all be a-”

Jeongguk is speaking to you like you’re a child and the notion makes you fucking angry.

Turning on your heel, you narrow your eyes at him. Your manicured finger jabs into his chest and he takes a step back at your widening eyes.

“Jeon Jeongguk, you haven’t been in a relationship either. You lost your virginity at fourteen years old to a prostitute that charged you five dollars and a strawberry Melona bar because you were cute. You don’t get to have a say in what I do! Besides! I’m older than you!”

Guk swallows thickly, running his hand over the clan neck tattoo of the tiger on his neck awkwardly. “Lili wasn’t a prosititute back then… she was a seventeen year old girl that wanted to get into prostitution.”

You roll your eyes, pulling the glass of liquor to your chest.

“I’m old enough to decide what’s best for me. I’m an adult. And little brother, I love you but you gotta let me live my own life. I’ve never had a boyfriend, I’ve never had feelings like this before. Please let me explore them and learn on my own.”

Guk takes the glass of bourbon from your hands and places it on the bar. Without another word he pulls you into his arms. He smells of musk from the forest and the slightest hit on the minty aftershave that his dad gave him.

“You mean everything to me, noona. I just want so much better for you,” he murmurs.

“You don’t know if Yoongi isn’t the best thing for me… he might turn out to be your brother-in-law,” you quip, retaking the glass into your hands.

Your brother cringes at your words, pulling away from you with a quickness. “Don’t fucking speak my nightmares into existence, please.”

You know that you mean so much to the younger man. You know how much he adores his sister. But sooner or later he’s going to have to learn how to separate himself from you.

He needs to learn how to live his own life.

“Goodnight, Gukkie,” you chirp, planting a kiss on his cheek and drifting by him.

He grunts nonchalantly, watching you ascend the stairs with a care. Shaking his head, he grabs the decanter of bourbon before heading to the backdoor.

Stepping into Yoongi’s bedroom, you’re surprised the only light in the room is from the bathroom.

You can hear water sloshing from the adjacent room and you’re surprised the scarred man isn’t in bed yet.

Peeling off your dress, you take off towards the lit room.

Leaning against the door frame, you take in the drug lord as the water within his solid marble tub rolls over his God-like body. His muscles are sinewy and taut, the water adding a delicious sheen over his tanned torso.

Turning his head to you with a cigarette clamped between his teeth, he smiles. “Hey gorgeous, fancy seeing you here.”

You hold up the glass of bourbon and he chuckles softly. “Brought you dinner.”

“Come in the bath, get the chill of the night out of your bones… and your brother’s annoying dad complex.”

You snort softly and hand him the glass of liquor. He watches you over the lip of his cup, slowly letting his eyes traipse over your body.

The drug lord sits in silence, appreciating every inch of skin that is revealed before his eyes.

When you’re completely bare before him, he taps his chest wanting your skin solely on his.

The water is the perfect temperature, pleasantly warm enough to suck out any chill your bones might have captured in the marrow.

He sets down his drink to the floor, burns out his cigarette and wraps his arms around you without a second thought.

“I thought you’d be exhausted,” you whisper, pressing your face to his ink riddled chest.

“I’m never tired around you,” he breathes, running his hand over the back of your head.

“Why do you know all the right things to say?” you murmur.

Yoongi laughs, running the tip of his tongue over his lips. “Are you ready for the answer?”

“Is it cringy?” you inquire with a small smile.

“Yeah, of fucking course it is.”

With a laugh, you lift your head.

His eyes are alight with humor and you find it so difficult to not let your heart thump out of his chest.

“Go on,” you allow with a giggle.

“I know how to say all the right things because,” he breathes, threading his fingers into your hair and pulling you closer until his lips are lightly touching yours, “you make me the right person for you – and you deserve to have the most romantic, cringy… sickeningly sweet words spoken to you.”

“That’s pretty good,” you chuckle, puckering your lips until they connect fully with his.

There’s a sharp scream that makes you jump but your boyfriend looks completely relaxed. He turns his attention to the prepaid phone and when it doesn’t light up with an incoming call, he leans back against the marble tub unbothered.

“S-Should you go check that out?” you chirp, looking up at him.

He waves his hand nonchalantly, picking up his glass of bourbon. “Nah. Namjoon’s got it. The guy is probably crying over a finger or something.”

Swallowing thickly, you suddenly remember what your boyfriend does for a living. He’s so good at taking himself and you out of that atmosphere.

“Namjoon hurt his finger?” you squeak.

Your boyfriend coasts his hand over your arm comfortingly. “No, he probably took it off.”

Your shiver is visible and he immediately coddles you to his body. He shuts his eyes, shaking his head at how completely insensitive he’s just been.

“I’m sorry. I…I don’t explain what I do to people that don’t do what I do normally.” he murmurs.

It shakes you to the core but then you think about Yuqi. She’s so strong and so powerful in her position. You want to be like that, you want to be a rock for this scarred man.

He’s opening up, he’s trusting you and you need to be understanding because he’s putting faith in you – he’s putting stock into this. So you must as well.

“That’s okay, I’ll have to get used to it is all,” you reassure him, running your fingers over his tan skin.

Capturing your chin between his thumb and index finger, he leans in. He’s so close to kissing you when another loud scream pierces the air.

Rolling his eyes, he turns on music from the LED panel beside the tub.

“Why is he being tortured?” you find yourself asking as Yoongi begins to lather your body with the finely carved soap.

The scent of lavender and vanilla breeches your senses and you have the hardest time trying to keep the pleasant sigh that threatens to leave your lips to yourself.

“Those two men in the forest tried to kill us that night the van flipped, we’re just asking them why… forcibly.” he explains, drifting the soap over your shoulders.

The music does a good job of keeping the screeching at bay and you find your eyes shutting at the peace.

“I don’t actually like classical music,” Yoongi clarifies, drifting the soap over your breasts.

It’s such an intimate moment. It’s not erotic or passionate but more tender and calm.

The drug lord never takes his eyes off your body, getting familiar with each freckle and beauty mark that graces your skin.

He finds himself thinking that he could stay here and memorize your body for years and that’d be just fine with him.

“Oh?” you inquire, opening your eyes.

The intensity in his irises grounds you, it pulls you closer to him like he’s tethered you to a rope.

“The orphanage used to make me listen to classical music to calm me. It’s not that I like it – it’s that I’ve been trained to think clearly when hearing it.” Yoongi admits, letting the soap drift down to your core.

He taps your knee, ordering your legs to be spread and you do it without hesitation.

He cleans you thoroughly, keeping his eyes glued to your face. You don’t writhe or wriggle under his ministrations – you just let yourself be.

Yoongi lets himself imagine what this partnership could be like years down the line. He lets his mind wander to future days where you’re his wife and confidant, you’re the only woman he needs and wants for the rest of his days.

He lets that thought marinate with each swipe of soap against your soft skin.

A smirk spreads over his lips as you lay your head on his chest.

Yeah. He could probably get used to that idea.

The incredibly intimate act comes to a close when he drains the tub. He adores the way your eyes slowly blink and when the distant screaming finally stops, he turns off the music.

“Let’s go to bed,” he breathes, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

Jeongguk is so not thrilled to go run this errand for his boss.

He’s even more angry when he steps back into the coffee shop he swore he’d never enter again.

He dressed up to the nines today, with a pristine white suit and black dress shirt. His long black hair is tied up in a bun and his earrings are long and dangling by his sharp jaw.

Removing his sunglasses, he allows Taehyung to catch a glimpse of him first and the jealousy in the older man’s face practically makes your brother giddy.

“Morning, idiot,” Taehyung breathes.

Guk hates himself for it but he lets his eyes wander the shop and his heart practically stops when he sees her.

Her hair is in a messy braid with small pieces of hair falling into her eyes and her cheeks are rosy from the sheer amount of coffee she’s had to make this morning.

He sighs almost too loudly before turning his attention back to the older man. “You got a delivery for me?”

Just the sound of his voice has Hanna turning on her heel. She’s completely floored by his handsome appearance and she drops the coffee cup in hand to the floor in shock.

Guk looks over at her, watching how she fumbles for napkins and he swallows thickly.

Walking over towards her, he unbuttons his suit jacket. He grabs a wad of napkins, bending down beside her.

“Hey, Hanna bear.” he murmurs, tossing the soaked napkins in the trash.

“H-Hey, Gukkie.” she chirps.

“The package is in the store room, I’m swamped with customers right now. Hanna, can you show Guk the boxes in storage?” Taehyung calls to them, passing a latte over the counter with a smile.

Your brother shakes his head in an instant.

“N-No! She’s probably busy! I’ll find them myse-”

“Yeah, I’ll show him,” she replies, standing up tall and pulling Jeongguk along with her.

He grits his teeth, allowing himself to relish her hand wrapped around his wrist for at least five seconds before he’s ripping his arm away from her grip.

She sighs softly, tugging him inside of the store room and locking the door behind them.

When Jeongguk goes to protest, she pulls the key from the door and slides it into her bra with narrowed eyes.

“Hanna… what’re you doin’?” Guk asks exasperatedly.

“We need to talk,” she breathes, finding her nerve after a moment of silence.

He leans against the stockroom shelf, one foot sliding in front of the other with a raised eyebrow.

“I said everything I had to say the day I left… although it was a little… harsh, I have nothing left to s-”

“I have something to say!” she grinds out, crossing her arms.

Jeongguk takes her in, watching how the ugly fluorescent lights seem to somehow highlight all the best parts of the girl he’s had a crush on since what feels like the dawn of time.

Her hair is slowly unraveling from her loose braid and however disheveled it may be… she looks like she’s stepped out of a poster.

He’s stunned into silence. Which is rare for Jeons, especially you.

“I know everything that you feel the need to tell m-”

“No! You don’t! God, you’re so infuriating!” Hanna explodes, gritting her teeth.

Your brother blinks once. Twice. Three times.

Hanna has never raised her voice in all the time that he’s known her.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve tried to talk to you a few times now but you just don’t want to hear it! It’s so childish! Why can’t you just listen to what I have to say?!” she screeches.

Now your brother is even angrier that he has to be here. He has to listen to this?! Is she insane?!

“I know what you’re going to say, Hanna! I don’t want to hear any fake ass apologies about how you fell for my friend! I don’t wanna hear how you spread your le-”

Hanna crosses the distance between them before standing on the tips of her toes. She presses her lips to his effectively cutting off whatever nasty sentence he was about to finish.

Stunned by the sudden move, your brother just stands frozen in place. His eyes are wide and he’s still shocked but his lips move in unison with hers. She tastes of wild berries and green tea lattes.

But suddenly as reality hits him again, he grabs her shoulders and pushes her back.

“What’re you doing?!” he hisses, pressing his fingers to his lips that still tingle from her touch.

“I’m not with Taehyung, I don’t want to be with Taehyung. I want to be with you!” she gasps, looking up at him with the doe eyes that make him break into a million little puzzle pieces.

He stutters and bumbles over syllables as his head tries to process the words she’s just spoken

“No…No way! You and hyung… you were laughing and playing around with each other… you-you were flirting! I saw you!” he chokes out.

“I was making you jealous, you fucking idiot!” Taehyung calls through the door, slamming his fist against the metal for good measure.

Your brother’s cheeks burn cherry red and he can only shake his head at his stupidity.

“I really, really like you Jeongguk…” Hanna breathes, looking down at her shoes.

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never been in this situation before so he lets his heart do as it seems fit.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pushes her back against the farthest wall. He kisses her with fervor, allowing his hands to bunch up the black tendrils of her braid.

“Your delivery!” Hanna squeaks as his lips trail down her neck.

“I’m locked in… I can’t go anywhere,” he grumbles against her skin, pulling her back to kiss him.

You fall to the carpeted floor with a heady thump, giggling loudly when Holly climbs over you. He licks at your sweaty cheek, giving sloppy kisses to your exhausted body.

“That’s it? You think you’re done already?” your boyfriend inquires teasingly, crouching down beside you.

He holds out a cold water bottle, shaking it playfully above your head and you don’t think twice as you yank it away from him

“I do-don’t see the point of it all,” you croak, cracking open the bottle and guzzling the water.

“Watch it. Don’t make yourself vomit,” he chides you, planting a kiss to the crown of your head, “When you signed the contract you agreed to getting fighting training. You might need the knowledge at more events. It’s good to know.”

You whine loudly, throwing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut.

“I thought the contract would be obsolete now that I suck your dick every night,” you groan.

He chuckles then, the pretty noise accompanied with the gummy smile that makes you feel like you’re having a stage five heart attack.

“It is obsolete. But you still need training even more so now that you’re my actual girlfriend,” he teases, booping your nose.

When your eyes spring open, you allow them to drift over his gorgeous sweat soaked skin.

Every ridge and hard muscle seems to bulge with new intentions after your hearty work out.

The drug lord doesn’t miss your wandering gaze and he snorts softly at your dilating pupils.

“How about… you train for thirty more minutes and if you do then I’ll eat your pretty cunt in the shower, hmm?” he coos, holding his hands out to you.

He stands tall and you can see just the slightest outline in his shorts of his hardening cock.

“Fine!” you reply with a smile, grabbing his hands and standing up with his help.

As if he’d have to coerce you with anything else.

<—–Last Chapter Next Chapter——>

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