clover recommends. 🍀

Since Friday night, you’ve been alternating between being super proud of yourself for being direct and asking for what you want, and being equally repulsed by yourself for the way getting what you want has made you act. 

You’ve seen Yoongi once since the night in his studio, when he was coming home after pulling an all-nighter and you were on your way out to work, like two goddamn ships passing in the night.

You were in that barely functional state post-waking up where you were shocked you were even able to get your shoes on the correct feet before walking out the door, and the mere sight of him in a short-sleeved white t-shirt had you pausing where you stood and taking a looooong look. You’re that desperate. 

And he knows it, too. Exhausted as he looked, your blatant staring didn’t go unnoticed. Mercifully, though, Yoongi didn’t say anything. Just shook his head at you knowingly, smirking to himself as he pushed his front door open and stepped inside, presumably to go crash for a few hours.

You thought, foolishly, that a byproduct of your friends-with-benefits arrangement would be an ability to relax, loosen up a little bit so you’re able to be more productive during office hours. Don’t people say that about sex? That it clears the head? Well, those people have clearly never had Min Yoongi’s head between their legs.

You are decidedly not clear headed. You are wired, wanting, finding yourself zoning out in the middle of newsroom meetings thinking about Yoongi’s hands spreading your thighs, his lips wrapped around your clit, the way he groaned into your pussy. It’s fucking distracting.

You’ve never been like this before with anyone you’ve slept with. Sex with your ex had been good, even great sometimes, but you never really thought about it until it was happening. With Yoongi, you can’t seem to think about anything else.

Meanwhile, Yoongi has been busy, on a completely different sleep schedule from you all week. He’d given you fair warning before you left his studio Friday night, wobbly-legged and fucked out. He’s working on a very important track for an upcoming artist’s debut album, he’d told you. It’s due at the end of the day Friday, and he probably won’t have time for any… extracurriculars until it’s done. 

No big deal, you’d said! Dumb bitch.

It doesn’t help in the slightest that, as you’d hoped, nothing has really changed between you and Yoongi, aside from occasional suggestive texts (mostly initiated by your horny ass!!!!!!) exchanged throughout the day, sprinkled within normal conversation. No, Yoongi has continued to be himself: sweet, considerate, kind of nerdy. Sending you links to articles he finds interesting, or funny videos, or songs that he’s had on repeat. It is driving you insane.

On Thursday afternoon, you snap.

You open your phone on your lunch break to find that Yoongi has sent you not one, not two, but three devastatingly cute cat videos, and has provided his own commentary on them.

So, obviously, you text back with what you think is the only appropriate response to that kind of behavior. 

[12:14] You: i am begging you to put your cock inside me before i lose my mind

It is by far the most direct you’ve been since Friday night, far exceeding the coy flirtation you usually go for. You place your phone face-down on your desk with a shaky hand, staring down at your sad little salad. Lunch seems impossible now, what with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears and all.

Your phone buzzes not even a minute later, twice. Which stands to reason. You wanted Yoongi’s attention, and now you’ve got it. You take a deep breath through your nose and turn your phone back over.

[12:15] Yoongi: You’re begging, huh?

[12:15] Yoongi: You’re at work, baby. Can’t focus? Need it that bad?

Um. Yes, yes you do. And the way that you can practically hear his voice right now, in your ear, teasing. Fuck. Not helping.

You pick up your phone, hiding yourself behind the monitor at your desk so nobody in the office can see how flushed you’ve become all of a sudden. You’re on your lunch, and they should mind their damn business.

[12:16] You: yes

[12:17] Yoongi: You know I can’t help you until I’m done with my track.

That’s pretty much the response you expected, but you can’t help feeling frustrated about it anyway. He can’t take a break for an hour? You’d even settle for thirty minutes!

[12:18] You: i think you can and you’re just making me wait to be an asshole

[12:18] You: which is really dumb because i can just come to your studio tonight when i get off of work and you can take a break

[12:19] You: let me ride you in your chair

[12:19] You: fuck. you don’t even have to stop working yoongi

You’re acting desperate, you know that. You know how you sound. But you are desperate, can’t help it. Yoongi opened the floodgates to over three years of pent-up sexual frustration with his stupid tongue, and now it’s his fucking responsibility to deal with it.

You watch as the bubble pops up to indicate that he’s typing, and then disappears, then reappears again. Ha. Maybe you actually got him.

[12:22] Yoongi: If you think calling me names is gonna get you what you want, you’ve got another thing coming.

[12:22] Yoongi: You can come to the studio tonight if you really want to. But I can guarantee that you’re not getting my cock.

[12:23] Yoongi: Except maybe in that fucking mouth to give it something better to do than complain.

Holy shit maybe not!

[12:23] You: oh my god

You had a feeling, of course, that Yoongi liked being in control, that he liked to guide. He had coaxed your desires out of you so sweetly Friday night, letting you tell him what you wanted, but how he did it was his choice. But this is more than guiding. He’s telling you what’s going to happen if you come over. You shift in your chair, your thighs clenching.

[12:24] Yoongi: Hey. Tell me if this is okay, Y/N.

You can practically hear the words in his voice, soft, like when he asked you to stay when Seokjin came over to cook. The stark difference between this and the texts immediately before are almost enough to make your head spin. He’s giving you an out if you’re not into this. But you are into it.

[12:24] You: yeah

[12:24] You: yes. it’s okay

[12:25] Yoongi: I need you to tell me if I say or do something you don’t like, okay? No matter what.

[12:25] You: i will

[12:25] Yoongi: Good girl.

God. Being this turned on at work feels like a crime.

[12:26] Yoongi: I’m not trying to be mean, baby. I already told you, I’m dying to fuck you. I wasn’t just saying that.

[12:27] Yoongi: But when I fuck you, I want to be able to take my time.

[12:27] Yoongi: Wanna have you in my bed and not in my studio, first of all. All spread out for me so I can see all of you.

[12:28] Yoongi: Wanna taste you again. I can’t stop thinking about how good you taste, fuck. I didn’t take it slow enough last time, didn’t get to savor it, but I’m gonna fix that. Gonna make you come with my tongue again before you even get my cock, get you nice and wet for me.

[12:29] Yoongi: Not that it takes much. Bet you’re wet right now, aren’t you? Just from this?

Oh, he’s so mean. Your thighs clench again and you chew on your bottom lip as you type, hyperaware of the way the thin fabric of your panties clings to your sex. It feels so dirty, knowing that in a few minutes you’ll have to work like this. You’ll have to talk to your colleagues like this, pretend like nothing’s amiss. You’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t turn you on even more.

[12:29] You: yeah. god, yoongi. i am

[12:30] Yoongi: Yeah. I know, baby. It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you when I can. Gonna make you feel so good. You sounded so sweet when you came for me last time. Can’t wait to hear what kind of pretty noises you’ll make when I get to have you properly.

[12:31] Yoongi: Fuck, Y/N. If you think I don’t wish I was with you right this second you’re insane. Been dreaming about your pussy. But I wanna do this the right way.

You believe him. Even through your phone, you can feel it—that raw honesty that Yoongi always gives you. He’s been agonizing over this just as much as you have. It makes you feel a little bad, honestly, that you so wantonly distracted him like this, when he’s been working so hard this week. Maybe part of you wanted to get back at him for denying you what you wanted on Friday, but now, you realize that you’re glad he did. You want all of that, too. Everything he said, every word of it. Just because this is casual doesn’t mean you have to rush.

Maybe it’s time for you to give him a little honesty of your own.

[12:32] You: i want that too

[12:32] You: shit i have to go back to work soon but i promise i’m not trying to rush this i just…

[12:32] You: really, really want you

[12:33] Yoongi: I want you too.

[12:33] Yoongi: Soon, okay? Really really soon if I can help it.

You look up from your phone when the chime of an Outlook notification snaps you out of your bubble, directing your attention to an email from your boss. With a longsuffering sigh, you click it open. He wants to talk to you as soon as you’re available, and your salad isn’t going to eat itself, so you resign yourself to letting Yoongi get back to work.

[12:35] You: soon

[12:35] You: go back to work. that grammy isn’t gonna win itself

[12:36] Yoongi: Lmfao. Go back to work, she says, as if she didn’t just give me the most persistent boner of my life unprovoked.

[12:36] You: motivation!

[12:36] Yoongi: Motivation for me to do more inappropriate shit in my place of business, maybe. But it’s a lot sadder when I’m by myself.

[12:37] You: wowwwww pics or it didn’t happen

[12:37] Yoongi: YOU go back to work, pervert.

You do. Begrudgingly.

You quickly type an email to your boss, just a cursory, ‘There are fifteen minutes left in my lunch, and then I’ll be there. Thanks Kevin!’ Afterwards, you scarf down your lunch. And you finally watch those cat videos Yoongi sent you, which effectively tamps down your horny high enough for you not to feel icky about meeting with your boss. 

★ ★ ★

Fifteen minutes later on the dot, you’re knocking on Kevin’s door.

You like your boss well enough. As much as one can like their boss, maybe, give or take a bad day. Kevin is nice, but his name is stupid, and he certainly doesn’t live up to your expectations of what a music journalism editor would be like when you first applied to Look Here Magazine.

Foolishly, you expected someone straight out of Almost Famous: young, wears band t-shirts beneath blazers, a chainsmoker, a little bit sleazy, with music knowledge to put Nardwuar to shame. Instead, what you got is a mostly-bald, clean-cut, mid-forties guy who wears khakis most days of the week and says things like ‘circle back’ and ‘best practice.’ He’s competent, sure, and you need him to like you, absolutely, but he does make your job feel a little less cool. But who knows! Maybe Kevin rocks out on the weekends. You certainly don’t, so who are you to judge?

Kevin waves you in, and before you even have the chance to sit down, he’s dropping a bomb on you that makes you feel like your legs are going to give out beneath you.

“You’re taking charge on the Yijeong profile piece,” he says flippantly as peers over his glasses at his monitor, typing without pause.

There’s absolutely no way you just heard that right. Yijeong's profile was assigned already, to a reporter who has been at Look Here a lot longer than you. You tell Kevin as much, as if he wasn’t in the newsroom when the piece was pitched in the first place.

“Sora didn’t have enough bandwidth to juggle the profile and the reunion tour coverage, and that’s going to be on the cover,” Kevin says, without even a passing glance to you. As if he isn’t altering the trajectory of your career over a scheduling conflict. “It’s all you, kid.”

“I don’t have the contacts,” you blurt out, having mercy on your poor, wobbly legs as you sit down.

“Ask Sora for the contacts.”

“Don’t you want someone more experienced for this? Connected?”

It’s not that you don’t want it. Writing a profile on someone like Jang Yijeong is a dream come true for someone as green as you are. It may not be the cover article, but the headline will be written on the cover, and so far you’ve only written the puff pieces that readers likely use to pad outgoing mail. If you do this right, there’s a chance of less puff pieces and more real journalism.

It’s the if that scares you. Jang Yijeong has rebranded his entire career from being an idol to being a producer, so he’s technically considered an up-and-coming artist where Look Here is concerned. Nobody has heard his name in a few years, and a piece on him by a publication like Look Here could make him the most sought after producer in the country, if he plays it right. 

But Yijeong has also been in the music industry for a long time. He’s been interviewed by countless reporters. He’s media trained. Good media training is a death sentence for profiles, which are supposed to dig deep into the subject. Trust is everything in this kind of situation, and if Look Here sends a rookie like you to interview Jang Yijeong without the proper connections, without someone to vouch for you, he will show up to the interview with a script in hand. The profile will be a dud and your career will pay the price.

Sighing, Kevin finally stops typing, looking at you for the first time since you walked into his office. You shift in your seat, trying to make yourself look less fucking terrified.

“Look, I could hand it off to someone else, but you’ve been doing a good job these past couple of weeks. In your interview, you told me you’re most interested in writing features. That you’re good at it. I’m throwing you a bone,” he says, and you take a shaky breath. “Take the piece. Don’t try to reinvent the wheel. You’ve written profiles before, you know what to do. Just ask good questions, don’t be stiff, and you’ll be fine.”

Kevin’s phone rings, and his attention is stolen again as he picks it up to answer it without a second thought. “Talk to Sora, and then take the day out in the field tomorrow to see what kind of background you can dig up,” he says, waving you out with the same indifference he waved you in with. You scramble to stand up, rushing to leave.

“Deadline is Wednesday!” he calls as you shut the door behind you, taking a moment to catch your breath before you try to find Sora.

Holy shit.

You have work to do.

★ ★ ★

You spend your entire day on Friday pounding pavement, milking all of Sora’s sources for what they’re worth, but you don’t learn any information about Jang Yijeong that you can’t find on his Wikipedia page.

You don’t give up easily, though. No, you plan to put your investigative reporting skills to good use, via a healthy session of social media stalking. You can find out a lot about someone from what they post on X and Instagram, after all. You have to reach out to Yijeong’s label to schedule an interview as soon as possible, and if you have to get your hard hitting questions based off of what you can glean from a meal he photographed in 2013, so be it.

It’s ten at night by the time you flop onto your bed, phone in hand, ready to pull an all-nighter and plunge yourself into the rabbit hole that is Jang Yijeong’s social media. Pepper hops up with you, curling up on your stomach and purring contentedly as you start scrolling.

Nearly two hours and ten possible interview questions later, your phone buzzes in your hand. It’s Yoongi.

[11:47] Yoongi: Are you coming over or not?

Oh, fuck. It’s Friday. Meaning Yoongi is done with his track.

You’d almost forgotten how horny you’d been for the past week, completely absorbed in your assignment. It stands to reason that as soon as Yoongi is free, you’re suddenly swamped with work of your own. But, of course, it all comes rushing back just from a text.

Whatever! You’ve been at it for hours, anyway. You deserve a break.

[11:49] You: when did you get home?

[11:49] Yoongi: About half an hour ago.

[11:50] You: hmmmm… did you take a shower?

[11:50] Yoongi: Obviously. I’ve been in the studio for most of the week. I’m not an animal.

You snort to yourself, which scares the shit out of Pepper after your complete silence for the past two hours. You’re suddenly proud that you had the foresight to take a shower of your own when you got home from interrogating people all day, although this wasn’t on your mind at the time. 

[11:50] You: leave the door open?

[11:51] Yoongi: Will do.

You very carefully nudge Pepper off of your stomach, giving yourself a cursory glance in your mirror once you’re up. You make sure that your hair looks good at least, but your clothes don’t matter as much. It’s not like they’ll be on for long anyway.

Satisfied with what you see, you make your way through your apartment, grabbing your keys to lock your door on your way out.

Maybe it’s the workload that was dumped on you yesterday, but you feel much more level headed about this than you thought you would. It’s like your body has finally caught up with your brain, and you can recognize this part of your relationship with Yoongi for what it actually is: stress relief. You’ll go to his apartment, he’ll give it to you so good, and then you’ll go back to work and he won’t care because, like he told you before, he gets it. You’re giddy just thinking about it.

Walking into Yoongi’s apartment isn’t daunting, nor is locking the door behind you. Nor is finding him on his couch and climbing into his lap without even a hello, crushing your lips to his the way you’ve spent all week dreaming about.

Yoongi makes a surprised noise against your mouth, his hands hovering at your waist, but he quickly melts into the kiss, letting you take the lead for a moment as his hands find their place, pulling you closer. It’s only when you tease the seam of his lips with your tongue, silently requesting entry that he pulls back, forcing you to breathe.

“Hi,” he says, clearly amused by your enthusiasm.

“Hi,” you parrot back, grinning.

His hands slip from your waist to your hips as he looks you over, toying with the fabric of your sleep shorts. “Remember what we talked about yesterday?” You hum coyly, guiding his hand under the hem, which makes him huff, shaking his head with a smirk. “Wanting to do this the right way,” he reminds you, quickly removing his hand from where you led it, instead opting to smooth it over the curve of your ass.

“Easier said than done,” you reply, feeling bold enough to take the initiative that he won’t and sliding your hands under his shirt, running them over his abdomen. The fabric bunches up, and you can’t help but stare at the tantalizing inch of pale skin you’re rewarded with.

You gasp in surprise at the light spank Yoongi gives your ass in return, not nearly hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for you to pull your hands away. You know a warning when you see one—or feel one, that is. When you look up at him, he’s raising an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you said you wanted it like that,” he hums, rubbing over where he smacked you. “There’s always the alternative.”

Oh. That.

You wish you could say the thought of letting Yoongi fuck your throat wasn’t appealing, but there’s no hiding the way it makes you squirm, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. Yoongi hasn’t been particularly rough with you yet, but he’s hinted that he can be, if you want it. You imagine his hand on your jaw, encouraging you to open wider for him. Your eyes watering as you struggle to breathe through your nose. You still don’t know what his dick looks like, how thick it’ll feel on your tongue, how much your jaw will ache, but you’re eager to fill in the blanks of your imagination. You’ll definitely take him up on that one day, but no, he’s right. 

You want to come. You want him to make you come. As stubborn as you are, you can’t deny that.

“You can take your time,” you mumble, meeting his eyes. 

He smiles, bringing his free hand up to cup your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek like it did that night in his studio. “Good girl,” he murmurs, rewarding you with a sweet kiss that makes you moan, shifting your hips to grind against the bulge you feel stiffening under you. 

Yoongi pulls away from your lips with a chuckle, patting your hip gently. “Up,” he says, and you scramble to your feet, no more bratty attitude to be found at the moment. 

He stands with you, guiding you by the hand to his bedroom. Since he’s so adamant about taking his time, you take a moment to glance around the room, taking in all the little things about it that reflect what you’ve learned about Yoongi over the past several weeks.

Like the rest of his apartment, his bedroom is much cleaner than you would’ve assumed. There’s a desk with a small home studio setup, much more sparse than what you’ve seen in his actual studio. The equipment looks old and well-loved, and you wonder how long he’s had it. A basketball jersey hanging over his desk chair with his name emblazoned on the back. A dresser with various jewelry scattered on top, chains and rings and earrings. 

His bed, of course, takes up the most space in the room. Where you have a queen bed in your own bedroom, you note that his is clearly a king, with a soft looking black comforter over top. A comforter that you’re about to be pressed into, you think. 

Yoongi comes up behind you, his hands on your waist, lips on your neck trailing kisses over your nape and making you shiver.

“Relax,” he murmurs, huffing a laugh that you feel more than hear. “Lie down for me?”

You nod, walking to the bed and settling flat on your back. God, is this a Purple mattress? You hate him a little bit. You found your mattress on the side of the road.

Yoongi doesn’t give you long to stew on your hatred, though. Not when he’s spreading your legs, your feet planted flat on the mattress beneath you so he can fit his hips between your thighs. Not when you can feel how hard he is already, even through the layers separating you.

He kisses you again, long and slow and hot, all of your breath leaving your lungs at the feeling of his lips on yours. “Remember to stop me,” he mumbles between kisses. “If I do something you don’t like.”

You honestly find it hard to believe that Yoongi could do anything you wouldn’t like, but you nod your head jerkily in response, not wanting to separate from his lips for any longer than necessary.

Soon, he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck as his hands push your shirt up slowly, only separating himself from you to pull it off entirely and toss it aside on the mattress.

“Fuck,” he groans at the discovery that you aren’t wearing a bra, his hands immediately coming up to squeeze your breasts. “Wanted to make it easy for me, huh, baby?” 

In reality, you’d just been dressed for bed, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that, unable to form the words as his lips travel down to your chest, his tongue coming out to lave over a nipple.

You moan, your head falling back onto the mattress under you with a dull ‘thunk’ as Yoongi wraps his lips around the sensitive bud and sucks, your hands flying up to tangle in his hair.

“You like that,” he teases, a statement and not a question. He lifts his head, looking down at your tits with his bottom lip between his teeth. “So pretty, baby.” 

Your cheeks flush warmly at the praise, and desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, your hands slide down to his chest, fisting in his shirt and tugging.

“Your turn,” you breathe, and he chuckles as he sits up on his knees, tugging his shirt over his head.

You can’t help but stare. It’s not that you thought that Yoongi would be skinny, per se, but he does have a tendency to wear clothes a little too big for him, dwarfing him, and given his already small stature due to his height… Not that you would’ve minded in the slightest if he was on the scrawnier side, but Christ. He’s decidedly not scrawny. He’s lean, with shoulders broader than you would’ve given him credit for at a passing glance. 

And now here you are, gifted with an expanse of pale, smooth skin over compact muscle. Your eyes roam over him, from dusky nipples all the way down to the thin trail of dark hair starting right under his navel and leading your gaze down to where his cock strains against his sweatpants.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to touch somebody so badly in your life. The best part is that you can.

And you do. You feel greedy, your hands reaching out to smooth over his chest, down his abdomen, your eyes half-lidded and lips parted in a daze. 

Yoongi lets you touch all you want, but when your hands move down to cup his erection through his sweatpants, you hear his breath hitch as he stops you, shaking his head and pinning your arm to the mattress gently.

“Your turn,” he murmurs softly, throwing your words right back at you. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tilting his head at you as he starts to pull them down, the movement torturously slow. “Wanna see if you skipped the panties, too.”

You lift your hips so he can pull them down the rest of the way. You are not, in fact, wearing panties, because you were going the fuck to sleep originally, and you hear him suck in a breath after the shorts are discarded.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” he breathes. You ignore the funny thing your heart does in your chest at his words, opting instead to focus on his hand drawing closer to you.

You both moan when his fingers slide over you, finding you soaked once again.

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses as he gathers your slick with his fingers. He drags them slowly up to your sensitive bundle of nerves and circles around it, only to slide back down again, repeating the motion again and again. You moan every time he reaches your clit, your hips bucking up into his touch.

“This pussy,” he starts, and you lift your head at sudden motion as he sinks down to lay on his stomach, holding himself up with his elbows, “gets so fucking wet for me.”

His pupils are blown as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, just like last time, but instead of going right for it, Yoongi starts pressing kisses to your thigh. Your head falls back onto the mattress again, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he continues to speak. 

“Been thinking about this all week,” Yoongi mumbles into your skin, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, forcing a gasp out of you. “You make it impossible to focus, you know that?”

A high, needy whine falls from your lips as he suddenly runs the tip of his tongue between your folds, and when you lift your head to watch, he pulls away, his dark eyes meeting yours in a smoldering gaze.

“I could’ve been done with that track on fucking Tuesday,” he says, dipping down again to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, making you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair again. “Do you know how many times I jerked off thinking about being between these thighs again?”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whimper, his words conjuring images that make you feel as though you’re coming apart at the seams. Yoongi chuckles darkly, pressing a kiss to your clit.

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he praises, his tone so dark it sends a shiver down your spine. “Gonna make you say my name like that again, baby. You want it?”

“Yes,” you gasp out without a second thought. You need his mouth on you so bad you feel like you’re going to explode. “Shit, please.”

“So polite.”

Yoongi doesn’t make you wait any longer, his head dipping back down again so he can taste you properly, the flat of his tongue licking slowly over your pussy.

“Thank you,” you moan, the words slipping out completely outside of your control. Yoongi’s movements pause for just a fraction of a second, and suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the worry that ‘thank you’ was a fucking weird thing to say to the guy eating you out. But then you feel Yoongi’s responding moan right into your cunt, the vibrations making your eyes roll back into your head, and his tongue resumes its movements. 

True to his word, he’s taking his sweet time, savoring every bit of you, but you don’t fucking care. You want his cock, desperately, but he can stay down there for hours if he really wants to so long as it feels like this.

You lose track of time, your thighs trembling around his head as you lose yourself in the feeling of his tongue, but you’re quite literally yanked back into the moment when Yoongi lifts his head again, forcefully dragging you closer and latching his lips around your clit. 

“Fuck, fuck—Yoongi, fuck!” you cry out as Yoongi makes it abundantly clear that he’s no longer interested in dragging this out any longer. The way he’s eating you out now is going to make you come, and soon. 

You can hear the wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on you, even over the blood pulsating through your ears, even over the way you’re moaning for him as your orgasm barrels closer. 

Your fingers pull at his hair, your hips shifting to grind against his tongue, and he moans into you again, his hands grasping at your hips to help you move. You take the action for what it is: he wants you to come. Like, now. Well, he doesn’t have to fucking tell you twice.

For the second time, you come from Yoongi’s tongue, writhing beneath him as you moan helplessly. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your muscles clenching and unclenching as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. 

Yoongi works you through it, but unlike last time he can sense your impending overstimulation before you need to push him away, shifting to sit up on his knees as you catch your breath. 

“So fucking sexy,” he grunts, running his hands over your body as his eyes trail over you appreciatively. 

Shit, he’s one to talk. He looks so hot like this, his hair a mess from your pulling, his lips and chin slick from your pussy. 

Not to mention, just like last time, he’s so fucking hard. The only difference is that this time, he’ll let you have it.

“Wanna touch you,” you breathe, already pushing up shakily to slide your hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. Yoongi makes no move to stop you, his breath hitching as your hand wraps around him.

His length feels thicker than you expected in your hand, your mind instantly wandering to how it’s going to feel inside of you very soon. You don’t think you’ve ever taken something this thick before, and you want it so fucking bad.

“Shit, baby, just like that,” Yoongi grits out as you start pumping him slowly, his hips bucking forward into your hand. “Feels so good.”

You lean up to capture his lips with yours, tasting yourself on his tongue as the kiss quickly turns sloppy and desperate, lacking all finesse but somehow still so goddamn sexy. All the while, you keep touching him, his breath coming out shaky through his nose as he licks into your mouth with heat. 

When your grasp on his cock gets a little firmer, his hips stutter and his hand comes up to grasp your wrist again, urgently halting your movements.

“Gotta stop. ‘m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he says, pulling away. There’s a flush in his cheeks, spreading down to his chest. It’s almost cute, but then he opens that fucking mouth again, his eyes locked on yours. “Wanna come inside you.”

Fuck.

“Yeah,” you breathe in agreement, nodding jerkily and pulling your hand from his pants in an instant. “Want that. Fuck me.”

Yoongi groans, his eyes shutting tightly. He shakes his head. “Need a minute,” he says, his voice almost pained as he. “Fuck, you’re too much.”

He busies himself with reaching over your body and across the bed, pulling open the drawer of his bedside table. You keep your hands to yourself, ignoring the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch again. If he needs a minute, he can have it. You’ve waited this long.

Once his body returns to yours, he tosses a condom next to you on the bed before dipping down to kiss you again. His lips are gentle on yours this time, slow and almost sweet, unlike any way he’s kissed you so far. The chasteness of it throws you off, but it isn’t necessarily unwelcome—not from Yoongi, at least. He’s probably just trying to chill the fuck out so he doesn’t come too fast, you reason.

After a few minutes, though, Yoongi’s lips part from yours and he presses one last kiss to your temple, reaching for the condom beside you.

“Ready?” he asks, the edge of the foil packet held between his teeth as he sits up, using both hands to push his sweatpants down.

Your eyes are glued to him as he rips the packet open carefully, rolling the condom onto his cock. Your imagination never would’ve done him justice. The sight of his long fingers wrapped around his length is enough for your last thread of patience to snap.

“I think I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me right now,” you say honestly, your eyes unmoving from his cock, and he laughs, sliding a hand up your thigh.

“Dramatic,” he teases, his fingers prodding at your entrance, ensuring that you’re still wet enough to take him. “You think you’re ready for it?” he asks, two fingers prodding at your entrance before they start fucking into you easily. 

You whine, your back arching as his fingers scissor inside your pussy. “Can’t wait anymore,” you gasp out, and he relents, withdrawing his fingers to wrap them around his cock, shifting so he’s over you again.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, the tip of his nose grazing yours at this proximity. You feel the blunt head of his cock running through your folds, one last tease, before he lines himself up with your entrance. “I’ll take care of you, baby. Promise.”

Your legs wrap around his hips as he slowly eases in, his breath shuddering next to your ear as he fills you bit by bit. The stretch makes your head spin, but Yoongi takes his time just like he promised, rubbing your hip soothingly to keep you relaxed.

“Finally,” you breathe when he finally bottoms out, and he laughs.

“Yeah? Gonna thank me again?” Yoongi jokes, but the way his cock twitches inside you betrays the way he really feels about that.

“Maybe when you make me come,” you quip in return, but his hips draw back, giving an experimental thrust back into you, and suddenly nothing is all that funny anymore.

You both moan, and Yoongi trails his nose up the side of your neck as he does it again, setting a rhythm of long, slow strokes.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, the wrecked sound of his voice sending a flare of arousal through you, causing your walls to clench around his cock. “You feel so good.”

All you can do is moan in response, your arms looping around his shoulders, hands in his hair. “Squeezing me so fucking tight,” he grits out, fucking into you just a little bit faster, a little bit deeper.

“Like that,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his hair out of desperation.

“Yeah?” he groans, snapping his hips into you with more force now. “You want it harder, baby?” At your choked ‘yes’, it’s like a switch has flipped, Yoongi’s hips snapping into you so forcefully you see stars, your thighs beginning to shake on either side of him as he slams into you.

His hands smooth up your thighs, deep thrusts continuing uninterrupted as he positions your legs, pinning your thighs between your bodies so you’re practically folded in half, and oh, fuck. The angle change makes the head of Yoongi’s cock hit the spot that makes you cry out, your nails dragging down the length of his back as you become instantly aware that you’re going to come soon.

“Mm–Yoongi, fuck, please don’t stop—I’m so close, please—”

“Taking me so good,” he groans. “Touch yourself, baby. Make yourself come, I’m right there with you.”

You obey instantly, your hand sliding down between your bodies to rub your clit with two fingers. Your walls flutter around him, making him hiss as you teeter on the edge of your impending orgasm.

Yoongi braces himself, held up with his hands on either side of you. It’s his eyes on you, his lip between his teeth as he watches you touch yourself that finally sends you hurtling over the edge. You squeeze tightly around him as you come, your body convulsing under him as the pleasure washes over you, his name falling from your lips over and over.

“Nghh, good girl, shit,” he grunts, the rhythm of his hips instantly becoming erratic. “Fuck, Y/N. Gonna come.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you feel Yoongi’s body tense, his cock pulsing inside of you as he spills into the condom with a groan. He drops down to his elbows carefully, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss, his lips moving languidly over yours. 

You kiss him back, but after a few moments you’re suddenly hyper aware of how… intimate this feels, kissing like this as he softens inside of you. You pull away to look up at him. “Thank you,” you say, grinning tiredly as you try to break the tension surrounding the moment.

It seems to work, because Yoongi laughs breathlessly, pulling out of you with care and shifting off of the bed to dispose of the condom. “Funny,” he says.

You take the opportunity to sit up, despite your body feeling like jelly. You don’t think you can take Yoongi cleaning you up on top of what just occurred.

“Bathroom?” you ask, heading to it when he points you in the right direction.

You clean yourself up quickly, and when you return Yoongi is, mercifully, dressed again and retrieving your shorts from the floor for you. You take them with a small, grateful smile, pulling your shorts and top back on.

“So you got your track done?” you ask, trying to make some light conversation.

Yoongi scoffs, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Few hours ago,” he says, tilting his head and looking at you a little funny. Whatever he’s thinking, though, he doesn’t say it. “How was your week, anyway? I know I was a little M.I.A.”

You brighten the slightest bit at his question, joining him on the bed. “Actually,” you say. “Something pretty cool happened yesterday afternoon.”

“Yeah?”

“I kind of got entrusted with this huge assignment. I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it off, but if I do, it’s a career changer, for sure.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, grinning at you. “That’s great, Y/N. You deserve it.”

His praise makes you blush, looking down to pick at a loose thread on his comforter. You only blush because you know he means it. Yoongi actually reads your stuff. Rina doesn’t even really read your stuff, and she’s your best friend. But maybe it’s because Yoongi is in the music industry and the stuff you publish is more interesting to him.

Yoongi is in the music industry.

It’s like a lightbulb goes off in your head, and you shift closer to him.

“Actually,” you say. “I’m kind of struggling with it? And I was wondering, um… I’d really appreciate it if you could help me out a little bit. Do you happen to know Jang Yijeong?”

Yoongi stiffens next to you, not a lot, but enough for you to notice from this close. “Yeah, I know him,” he says anyway. “We’re friends.”

You’re confused by his reaction, but you soldier on. “I just need an interview with him. I need someone he can trust to set me up with him so he doesn’t give me scripted bullshit, you know? And… If you could be the one to do that, it would make my life a million times easier, honestly.”

For a long moment, Yoongi says nothing, not really looking at you. You don’t know what you said to get this reaction out of him, but you don’t like it, and you’re about to take back your request entirely when he speaks again.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him,” he says. He’s looking at you now, which makes you relax a bit.

“Really?” you ask softly. “Only if you’re okay with it, but it would seriously be a huge help.”

“Yeah, I’ll put in a good word,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. He suddenly seems much less stiff, like whatever weird moment that just took place has passed now, and he laughs. “Just promise you won’t make me regret it.”

At ease, you snort, rolling your eyes. “I promise,” you say flatly, nudging his shoulder with yours. Your voice softens. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” he says easily, getting up from the bed and making his way to the door. “Have you eaten? I’m gonna make kimchijeon.”

Yoongi really is saving your ass. After fucking you so nicely, too. And now he’s making you midnight kimchijeon!

“That sounds good,” you call after him, smiling to yourself after he’s left the room.

Yeah, you can get used to this.

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@dollfaceksj @jajabro @butterymin @coffeedepressionsoup

He may whine and complain about them, but he enjoys their standing monthly plans—wellness checks, Namjoon dubbed them—much more than he lets on. 

He knows himself, knows what he can be like sometimes. He knows that he spends more time in the studio than he does at home. He knows that when he gets sucked into working on a track he’s shit at taking care of himself. He likes to think that he’s better about it now. 

There was a time, though, not all that long ago, where it wasn’t uncommon for him to sleep on the ratty couch in his studio more days out of the week than his own bed. A time where he survived on massive cups of coffee and treated showers as rewards for figuring out why his songs were so fucking bad. A vicious cycle of bleeding nailbeds and uneaten cup ramen and the sound of a metronome making him want to bash his skull against his desk. A spiral.

A spiral that ended abruptly when Seokjin weaseled the door code for Yoongi’s studio out of Namjoon and found him sitting in the dark muttering at his computer screen, several pounds lighter than the last time Seokjin had seen him.

Seokjin was nice to Yoongi about it. He didn’t judge when he had to peel Yoongi out of his chair and force dinner into his mouth. Even when he had to sit in the bathroom with him as he showered, just in case Yoongi passed out. He didn’t make any jokes. That’s how Yoongi knew that he’d fucked up, back then. How he knew that he’d really scared Seokjin. Not one goddamn joke.

So, wellness checks were born. The seven of them gathering monthly, always at Yoongi’s apartment, to spend time together. Sometimes they eat dinner, sometimes they play video games. Most of the time they drink. Wellness checks, plus Seokjin popping in on random nights between to make Yoongi dinner, have kept Yoongi from spiraling for almost two years now.

So really, Yoongi does love his friends. They keep him afloat, hold him accountable.

They’re also annoying, nosy little motherfuckers that won’t stop hounding him about you.

It starts like this: Yoongi is minding his business, like always. 

He’s burrowed into the couch, watching an argument unfold between Jeongguk and Seokjin over who gets to play as Yoshi in Mario Kart. He’s been drinking from the huge bottle of whiskey you bought him all night, and he’s lost count of how many he’s had now. He’s really fucking focusing on this argument. Jeongguk and Seokjin both talk too fast, especially when they’re yelling at each other.

And even though aside from being drunk Yoongi is being completely fucking normal, Hoseok mistakes his silence for, like, contemplation or melancholy or something stupid like that, when really he’s just waiting for Jeongguk to win and get to play as Yoshi, like always.

“Hyung, you’re being quiet,” Hoseok says, and suddenly it feels like all eyes are on Yoongi. The only other person he could be talking about is Seokjin and Seokjin can very rarely be described as quiet. 

“He’s thinking about his lady love,” Seokjin says. Case in goddamn point. “His neighbor. She’s cute, but Yoongi-yah has no game.”

And really, fuck him. Seokjin may be one of Yoongi’s favorite people on the planet—he’s just drunk enough to acknowledge it—but that was just uncalled for. No game?

Yoongi has come to terms with the fact that he likes you, but it’s also really not that goddamn serious. He would be an idiot not to. You’re pretty, you’re intelligent, you’re interesting. You have real aspirations and you’re going for them with everything you’ve got, so that makes you cool in his eyes. 

Sometimes you post songs you like on your Instagram story, and Yoongi doesn’t even really use Instagram that often, but when he checks it, it’s almost always a song he likes. And if it’s not, he listens to it when he has a few minutes, and he ends up liking it anyway. It makes him feel like… He doesn’t know. It’s nice. Kind of sexy, somehow.

He thought about kissing you that day in his apartment before Seokjin barged in and sent you flying across his kitchen. Fuck, he wanted a taste. But Yoongi can read a cue, and you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t have time for dating. 

So, yes. He likes you. But he also understands you, because he’s been you. Seokjin seems to be under the impression that Yoongi is stuck in some kind of dramatic unrequited love situation, because that is the way that Seokjin thinks love works, but he just met you. He’s happy to be your friend, if that’s what you want. That’s why he offered it in the first place. Yoongi respects your boundaries enough to listen to you the first time when you say you don’t date. Simple as that. Being your friend isn’t some kind of consolation prize to him.

Also, rewind—once again, no game? Yoongi is a master in the art of flirtation, thank you very much. What the hell does Seokjin know about having game? All he has is his stupid face and his height, Yoongi thinks bitterly. One day, his stupid face will become ugly, too, because that is the way of the world. Seokjin will have nothing, but Yoongi will still have his words.

He’s opening his mouth to say something to that effect, but of course, everybody has something to say after Seokjin’s betrayal.

“Hyung likes a girl? Since when?” Jimin asks. Yoongi presses his lips into a thin line.

Jeongguk chimes in. “She’s cute? Hyung, why does Seokjin-hyung know she’s cute? Why does he get to know everything first?”

“The one in the apartment down the hall, hyung?” Hoseok. Waggling his eyebrows like he knows more. Seokjin is going to die.

“She lives down the hall? Can we meet her?” Taehyung.

Morons, Yoongi thinks.

“You’re all crazy,” he complains, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can feel himself getting pink, the six pairs of eyes on him making him bristle. He ducks his head, sinking further into the couch. “Why do you want to meet my neighbor so bad? Quit being weird. No.” 

“Leave Yoongi-hyung alone,” Namjoon says, and see? That’s why Yoongi likes him! Very diplomatic, as per usual.

“Thank you, Joon-ah.”

“He can be a pussy all he wants.” 

Oh, okay!

Yoongi is going to strap Kim Namjoon to that mechanical bull with rope next time and then leave him for dead.

“Is that what they taught you in your gender studies course, Kim Namjoon?” Yoongi hisses, crossing his arms over his chest defensively, but before Namjoon can defend himself, Seokjin is speaking.

“You should invite her over, Yoongi-yah.” Yoongi hates how soft his voice sounds about it. Like he’s trying to be gentle with Yoongi’s feelings or something. 

He sighs, sitting up.

“It’s really not like that,” Yoongi insists, his frustration mounting as he rubs at his temples. “I’m sure you’re all going to meet her at some point, okay? Because we’re friends. But not tonight. Stop trying to be matchmakers. It’s pissing me off, and you’re all ass at it, anyway.”

That seems to be effective in shutting them down, but now Yoongi is faced with six guilt-laden expressions. He softens a bit. He’s being too harsh, he realizes. They barely said anything, and they mean well. He knows that.

“Look, I just met her, and we haven’t had many opportunities to hang out,” he says, more gently this time. “We’re both busy. I don’t know her that well yet, and I don’t want to overwhelm her with… meeting the family so early on.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Namjoon says. Yoongi shakes his head.

“It’s fine. I just need all of you to drop it for now,” he says.

Everyone seems to agree. Even Seokjin, which is the biggest relief of all. 

He knows why Seokjin is trying to push this. Why they all are. 

When he told you he understood you, that he got it, he really meant it. He’s been fucked over before, more than once. Not for the same reasons as you, but he can imagine it probably hurts the same.

Relationships in general have never really been high up on Yoongi’s priority list to begin with. In his eyes, it can be nice when it happens, but he doesn’t reach for it. 

He’s done the casual sex thing, but he never needed it like some people claimed to. Yoongi can relate to feeling like a shaken up soda can ninety-nine percent of the time, but one night stands don’t do much to relieve the pressure for him. In the end, casual caused more problems for him than it solved, so he doesn’t do that anymore. Doesn’t really want to again. 

He’s done the relationship thing, too. That was better. The feeling of falling in love is… Well, he got lots of songs out of his last relationship, that’s for sure. He fell pretty hard, so hard that he didn’t even feel like himself. His friends were tickled. Min Yoongi, who gets so prickly about public displays of affection, kissing his girlfriend in the middle of a crowded street, just because! Not caring when it ended up online. Feeling proud, even. Putting that kind of trust into someone else made him feel so much lighter. Anyway, he got a lot of songs out of the breakup, too.

It’s been a long time since Yoongi has shown interest in anyone, even to a minute degree. He can’t blame his friends for wanting to play the six Bingleys to his Darcy, but he’s not going to push you, and he’s not going to put you in a room with his friends who are afraid hes going to die alone and let them try to push you either. If you decide you want him, he wants it to be real.

The rest of wellness check night goes by relatively smoothly, all things considered. Jeongguk does, in fact, end up playing as Yoshi despite Seokjin trying to play the hyung card over it. He also wins so much that Jimin’s eye starts twitching. All in all, it’s a pretty normal night.

Yoongi thinks that he’s successfully evaded further probing about you, until he finds Seokjin lingering by the door after the rest of them have filtered out.

“Yoongi-yah,” he says in that same soft tone from earlier.

“I don’t want to hear it, hyung.”

“I know you don’t, but you’re going to hear it anyway.” His voice is firm. 

Jeongguk may not fall victim to Seokjin’s hyung card easily, but Yoongi does. He always does. So he sighs, waving a hand for Seokjin to get on with it.

“Invite her to your studio.”

“What?” Yoongi asks, scoffing. His studio is sacred. “Why?”

“You said you don’t get to see her that often, but you don’t want to bring her around us yet,” Seokjin says, looking at Yoongi like he’s dumb. “She’s a writer. You can write anywhere, Yoongi-yah.”

“She has an office,” he says flatly, and Seokjin groans, rolling his eyes like Yoongi is being obtuse. 

“It’ll be like when we go fishing. We don’t really talk much, but the silence is nice. It’s still quality time. You can spend time together without taking time away from work for both of you.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to protest, but when Seokjin says it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad. It could work, if you’re open to it… He thinks he remembers Namjoon going on about, like, children doing what Seokjin is proposing—parallel play, or whatever—but it could work.

“Maybe,” he says finally.

“No, it’s okay,” Seokjin says, grinning. “You can admit that I’m a genius. The world may think that it’s you, but I’m the real brains of this operation.”

“Go home, hyung,” Yoongi huffs, pushing Seokjin out the door. He shuts it behind him, hearing his hyung’s screechy laugh descending down the hall.

It’s not a bad idea.

★ ★ ★

You’re in Yoongi’s studio, and it feels like a very bad idea.

On your part, at least. It was actually unbelievably sweet, the way Yoongi proposed it. Which does not help your problem in the slightest.

It’s been several weeks since you’ve last seen him in person, all of your correspondence with him taking place over text. Busy, busy, you claim to be, and you have been, but you had been terrified Yoongi was going to start thinking you’ve been avoiding him. You also feel so, so guilty that he would’ve been right.

You just haven’t been able to figure out how to look him in the eye after… your recent thoughts about him. Thoughts that have been pervading your mind ever since you admitted to Rina that yes, you very much would like to find out what his cock would feel like inside of you.

You fully intended to continue avoiding seeing him in person until you could figure out either A) how to stop those thoughts entirely, or B) how to ask him if he would be down to clown in a completely casual, platonic manner. You’ve been coming up empty on both.

And then you saw that he’d texted you, looking at your phone right as the rest of your coworkers were filtering out of the office and you were hunkering down for another two hours minimum of work, and once again, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. Not when he always somehow seems to know the right things to say.

[5:57] Yoongi: If you get stuck while you’re writing tonight, you should come by the studio. Change of scenery might help. 

[5:58] Yoongi: Haven’t seen you in a while and I’ll be here late. Plus I’d bet good money that you haven’t eaten dinner yet, and I’m about to order some.

[6:00] Yoongi: Do you need any more incentive? My company should be enough. 

[6:10] Do I need to bribe you with those raps you keep bothering me about? I’ll show you 30 seconds of ONE.

You really hadn’t been ignoring him that time, and thankfully you were able to open them only ten minutes after his last text. He knows your texting habits well enough at this point to know that you either respond instantly or take forever, caught up in whatever it is you’re working on. It’s almost like he’s nervous you’ll say no, which is just… He’s cute. Whatever. You said yes.

The problem is, now you’re in his studio, sitting on his couch with your laptop perched on your thighs, picking at the remnants of the takeout he’d ordered, trying and failing miserably at focusing on your work. 

It was a lovely idea on his part to invite you to work in silence with him. It was so sweet. It’s not his fault that you can’t focus, that for the past thirty minutes all you’ve been doing is trying to figure out how to ask him to bend you over his desk. Because you’ve officially made your decision on that. 

You decided about ten minutes after you arrived, in fact. The thirty seconds of the rap he’d promised to play you made a strong argument (Seokjin wasn’t joking about college Yoongi being shameless) but you held your resolve to put the idea of having sex with Yoongi out of your mind. 

No, it wasn’t the filthy, explicit bars spat out in his gravelly voice that did you in. It was the sight of him sitting in his chair, noise-cancelling headphones on, tapping away at his midi. Surrounded by expensive equipment, plaques outlining achievements, a guitar hanging on the wall. There’s a coffee cup on his desk that you can only imagine has been sitting there since the morning. From where you're sitting, you can see him in profile: his eyes sharp and focused, his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. Like he can do this all night. In his element.

In short, you find it sexy that he’s a workaholic just like you. You don’t want to think too hard about that at all.

He has one ear of his headphones shifted behind his ear in case you need him for something (also sexy), so you set the takeout and your laptop on the coffee table, clearing your throat.

“Yoongi,” you say softly.

He hums in response, his eyes still focused on the monitor in front of him.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

At that, he clicks a few more times on his computer before tearing himself away, taking off his headphones and turning his chair to face you.

“What’s up?”

You take a shaky breath, sitting up a little from where you’ve burrowed on the couch. This isn’t a big deal, you remind yourself. The worst he can say is that he wouldn’t be into it, and Yoongi hasn’t given you any indication that he’s a judgy guy.

“So, I told you that I don’t really have time to date,” you say, hoping he doesn’t think you’re insane for starting a conversation like that.

“You mentioned it,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Right. So, that’s true,” you say, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater to give your hands something to do. “I don’t want to date anybody right now. But… I, um.” You look down at your hands in your lap. You’re losing steam, losing confidence. Is there a right way to do this? If there is, you’re sure you’re not doing it. But Yoongi is patient. He sits quietly, waiting for you to find the right words.

It takes you a second, your mounting anxiety causing you to change course in the middle of your sentences, but you finally get them out.

“You’re so… I like being your friend, a lot. And I don’t want that part of our relationship to change. But I was wondering if…” A breath. You need to spit it out. “I’m like, horribly attracted to you. And I was wondering if you’d want to do, like, a friends with benefits thing?”

You cringe at yourself. You’ve never done something like this before, and it shows. You’re completely prepared for Yoongi to laugh and say no, to go back to his work. But when you look up, your breath catches in your throat. 

Yoongi’s eyes are so, so dark. You don’t know what to make of the way he’s looking at you. It’s not the same look he gave you the night you met, when you were both harmlessly flirting. The way he looked at you in his kitchen is closer, but it’s still not the same. There’s something else there, something you don’t recognize. He crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice as low as you’ve ever heard it. Serious. 

You shiver, but you nod and soldier on.

“I don’t want you to think it’s weird that I want that,” you say, standing your ground. “But yes. That’s what I want.”

Yoongi is unmoving, maybe taking a moment to consider your offer, and you can’t take it. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest. He needs to stop fucking looking at you like that.

Finally, he speaks. “It’s not weird,” he says. Nothing else. You wait, tortuous seconds passing by, expecting some kind of verdict, a yes or no, but it never comes. You break.

“Yoongi...” He hums. “...Do you want to fuck me?”

You watch as Yoongi licks his lips, his eyes raking over you shamelessly. Apparently that was the right thing to ask.

“You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you.” 

The air in his studio thickens, just like that. Fuck. You feel like you’re going to die before he gets the chance.

“Show me,” you breathe.

Yoongi assesses you for just a moment longer before standing from his desk chair, crossing the small space of his studio to sit beside you on the couch. His body is turned towards you, so you turn in kind, swallowing thickly.

He reaches to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing over your cheek in the process. His touch leaves a trail of heat over your skin, making you gasp, closing your eyes. There’s no alcohol warming you this time, making your head feel fuzzy, not right now. It’s just Yoongi, maybe it’s just been Yoongi the whole time, making you feel so affected by so little.

“I’m not fucking you tonight,” he says. Your eyes snap open, a protest at the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to the punch. “Not tonight. Let’s start with something easy, baby.”

Baby.

“Easy?” you breathe. You’re half-convinced you’ll go along with anything he says. Take anything he sees fit to give you. He hasn’t even done anything. You’re screwed. 

He nudges his nose against yours, his hand sliding down from your hair to cup your jaw, the other rubbing gentle circles into your hip. “Easy,” he murmurs, and then his lips are on yours, the sensation stealing all of the breath from your lungs. 

Yoongi’s kiss is slow and exploring, unhurried, thorough, like he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece and he intends on using it. You feel yourself whimper against his lips, your hands coming up to fist in his shirt, as if you can’t get him close enough.

His tongue teases at the seam of your lips. They part easily for him, and fuck, kissing has never felt like this before, made your whole body burn. You’re no virgin, for fuck’s sake. You and your ex had plenty of sex, and it was even good, but if just kissing Min Yoongi feels like this, you’re not prepared for what it’ll be like when he fucks you. Maybe he’s right to start with something easy.

Apparently, though, Yoongi has other plans.

He pulls back from the kiss, squeezing your hip. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll still take care of you,” he says, trailing heated kisses from your jaw down to your neck. “You want me to?”

“Yes,” you pant, uncaring of how desperate you must sound. It’s all out in the open now, no use in hiding it.

Yoongi chuckles as his hands find the hem of your sweater, sliding under it to feel your feverish skin. “Stop me whenever,” he murmurs against your neck, squeezing your breasts over the fabric of your bra.

When you don’t reply, his fingers expertly locate a nipple through the fabric, pinching it lightly, and you breathe out a gasped ‘okay.’ He hums, pleased, his mouth claiming yours again as he continues to run his hands over your body.

You only break the kiss when one of his hands pauses at the waistband of your pants, but it sure as hell isn’t to stop him.

“Touch me,” you encourage, your forehead pressed against his. 

Yoongi wastes no time, and you watch as his hand disappears under the fabric, thanking your lucky stars for dress pants with elastic waistbands. His fingers slide beneath the fabric of your panties to slip through your folds, and you both groan when he finds you drenched.

“Fuck,” he hisses, running his fingers up and down your slit slowly. “You’re soaked, baby. How long were you sitting here thinking about me fucking you?”

“Pretty much the whole time,” you admit weakly, your hips jolting when he circles your clit, a shaky moan falling from your lips.

His hand retreats from your pants, and before you can react, he’s rising from the couch, pushing the coffee table out of the way with his foot and sinking to his knees in front of you.

“I’ve gotta taste you,” he says, his expression almost pained as he tugs at your pants. “Can I?”

Who the fuck are you to say no to that?

You nod your consent eagerly, lifting your hips up so he can pull your pants and underwear off all in one go. Once you’re bare from the waist down, Yoongi slides his hands up your calves, positioning your legs so they’re spread wide, your feet planted on the couch on either side of you.

The way he looks at you then, almost worshipful, his jaw slack and pupils blown as he stares at your core... He looks almost as wrecked as you feel.

“Look at you,” he breathes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and then he’s surging forward, his tongue flattening to lick a broad stripe over your pussy.

“Yoongi,” you moan, your head falling back against the cushion behind you as your hands fly forward to tangle in his hair. Encouraged, he licks into you over and over, like he’s trying to devour you, his nose grinding against your clit as he works his jaw. “Fuck!”

Yoongi pulls back and you force yourself to lift your head, moaning at the sight of your slick all over the lower half of his face.

“Taste so fucking sweet,” he groans, trailing two fingers through your folds again to tease at your entrance. “You want more?”

“Please,” you whimper, and he grins, his fingers sinking into your pussy with little resistance. He curls them up, searching for the spot that will make your vision go white. When he finds it, you cry out, your back arching, and he leans forward again to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking at it.

It’s all too much, so fucking good you think you might die if he keeps going. Shit, you’ll die if he stops, too. He better not fucking stop.

“D-don’t stop,” you whimper, and he hums against your clit, making your eyes roll back as his fingers quicken into a steady, relentless pace.

It becomes clear he has no plans to stop, to tease, that he wants to push you over the edge just as much as you want to fall.

He uses his free hand to nudge your thigh, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder. The other follows suit, and before long, you’re practically squeezing his head between the plushness of your thighs, your moans coming out unbidden.

With one particularly hard suck to your clit, you’re gasping for breath, your eyes squeezing shut. All of the tension in your body snaps at once and your hips push into his touch, grinding against his fingers and his tongue as your orgasm washes over you in waves.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl, your hips moving of their own accord as you ride out the high, your skin buzzing with heat.

Yoongi’s fingers slow their pace but he doesn’t stop, milking your release for all it’s worth until you’re pushing his head away weakly, trying to catch your breath.

Finally, he relents, sitting back on his heels, his breaths just as labored as yours. He withdraws his fingers, sucking them into his mouth to lick your release off of them.

“Holy shit,” you pant, running your hands over your face, and Yoongi laughs.

“Good?” he teases, and you nod, slumping back against the couch. Good feels like an understatement, and you can tell he knows that. You can only imagine the reason for that slightly smug look on his face is from the sheer speed with which he made you come. You’d be embarrassed about it if he didn’t look so turned on, his eyes running over your body like he’s deciding whether he wants to go for seconds.

After a moment, he moves to stand up, wincing at the tension in his knees. Your eyes zero in on his cock straining against the material of his sweatpants instantly, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Fuck, you want that. You want it so bad. Why won’t he give it to you? Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Not tonight, Y/N,” he says, and you make a pitiful noise. Why he wants to deny himself a blowjob is beyond you.

He slips his hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants (right in front of you, the tease) to give himself a placating squeeze and adjust himself. “Next time,” he promises, bending at the waist to cup your cheek and kiss you again. 

You taste yourself on his lips, pulling him further by the front of his shirt. He lets you, bracing a hand on the back of the couch to keep himself steady. “You sure?” you breathe between hot, needy kisses. He groans and you think, for a moment, that you might be able to persuade him to change his mind. But then he’s pulling away again, and you whine.

“Next time,” he repeats, grasping your wrist and gently removing your hand from his shirt so he can stand up straight. He looks at his watch. “I doubt anyone is still here, so I’m gonna go get some stuff to clean us both up.” You nod, relenting. 

You laugh softly as he adjusts his erection again, at the way he huffs when he can’t get it to look any less obvious. He flips you off at the sound of your laughter, but you can tell there’s no heat behind it. 

Once he gives up, he dips his head out the door to check for anyone who could be lingering out there, then retreats from his studio into the hallway. You hear the whir of his door lock as he secures it behind him, ensuring that no one will walk in on you in this state, and then you’re alone.

Sated as you are, the reality of what just happened sinks in quickly. Yoongi ate you out in his place of business. Insane! But to your surprise, it doesn’t feel as major as you were worried it would. Your heart swells at the idea that all of the confidence and trust you had in Yoongi to be upfront with you wasn’t misplaced, that he really is okay with this arrangement. It’s too early to tell, but it already feels like things will stay the same between the two of you. 

With the added benefit of sex. Insanely good sex, if what you just experienced is anything to go by. You’re already thinking of the next time that he promised.

You make a mental note to send Rina a fruit basket or something in Paris. She deserves it.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj @jajabro @butterymin

It’s a little past four in the afternoon, and you’re both making it home from work. It seems that way, anyway, based on the bag slung over his shoulder and his business casual clothes. No one looks good in business casual, but he does. You hate him, you decide.

He’s also holding a huge bag of tangerines, which is… Well, you guess it’s a talking point. If you’re going to be forced to interact again (although you’re very much considering doing the rude thing and just running inside without saying a word) you might as well make up for the last time you saw each other. Last night. Or, this morning, really. You, drunk and drooling over him. Him, stupidly charming and a very good sport.

You’ve been hungover all day, but it started to wane on your way home from work so you decide to do the neighborly thing and talk to him.

“That’s a lot of tangerines,” you say, and you feel a little smug when Yoongi visibly startles at the sound of your voice. Serves him right after making you practically jump out of your skin last night.

He pulls out one of his headphones and grins, raising the bag triumphantly.

"I have a thing about tangerines,” he explains. If that can even count as an explanation. "You want one?"

You can hear your mother in your ear chastising you for taking food from a virtual stranger, but you reason that just because you take one doesn’t mean you have to eat it, and you walk over to his door with your hand out.

“Sure,” you say, eyeing the bag warily. “Only because I’m not convinced you could eat all of those by yourself.”

He hums, staring at your hand as he pushes his door open, tilting his head toward the inside of the apartment in invitation. 

Your eyes widen. You open your mouth to protest, to tell him he could just hand you one, but Yoongi already has his back to you as he walks inside, kicking his shoes off at the door. You linger lamely in the doorway of his apartment. 

“Oh—Uh, are you sure?”

"Would I have invited you in if I wasn't sure?" You continue to linger as Yoongi sets the bag down on the kitchen island. He opens a cabinet, procuring a plate. "I don't bite,” he calls, turning on the tap of his sink to wash his hands.

You tentatively step inside, shutting his door behind you and setting your bag by his shoe rack. You follow his lead, toeing your shoes off before joining him in the kitchen. You watch as he starts peeling the fruit across the island, shifting awkwardly. 

Yoongi's eyes dart toward you for a moment as he continues to peel.

“You're acting like you're scared of me or something. You know I'm not gonna murder you, right?" he asks with a laugh, now starting to separate the sections of the tangerine.

“I know you’re not going to murder me,” you assure him, visibly relaxing a little so as not to look like such a hopeless, awkward freak. 

"Good. Just checking." He holds out a section of the tangerine, offering it to you.

You take it, smiling gratefully, but you let him eat his own piece first. It’s the least you can do, for your poor mother’s sake.

You do a shit job of being subtle as you glance around Yoongi’s apartment while you chew, but it’s not like you’re trying very hard to hide it. It’s a natural curiosity, to be in an apartment with a structural layout identical to your own, but so differently decorated. You feel like it’s not weird to look. 

"What?" he asks as he eats his own section of the tangerine, and when you look back at him his eyebrow is raised in question. 

“Your apartment is cleaner than I would’ve thought,” you say, laughing a little.

“Did you think it would be gross?” Yoongi asks, amused. “Do I give off a gross vibe?”

You snort, because he absolutely does not. If anyone gives off a gross vibe between the two of you, it’s probably you, the sloppy drunk that almost threw up on him last night because he was so hot and so close and you were so wasted. But you keep that bit to yourself. “Not gross. Just… messy?” you offer, snatching another section of the tangerine from his hand. “Not gross, though.”

“Oh, well that’s good,” he teases, starting to peel another tangerine and dividing it in half, sliding one half to you on the plate. “That you don’t think I’m gross, I mean.”

“No, it’s very neat in here,” you hum appreciatively, taking the plate. “The constant bedhead thing you’ve got going on is very misleading.” You point at his mussed hair. If you were a different person, maybe you’d touch it.

He does it for you, though. You watch as he ruffles his hair, smirking at you. “You don’t like my hair?”

“I didn’t say that,” you say. Something about Yoongi makes this back-and-forth come easily for you, and it feels dangerous. You should leave it alone, but you can’t. “Putting words in my mouth.”

He hums, and you watch his gaze flick down to your lips as you say the word ‘mouth.’ “You… have a little…” You watch as he brings his hand up to his own lips, rubbing his thumb at the corner of his mouth to indicate where you have something, apparently.

You hurriedly bring your own hand up to rub at your mouth. He shakes his head, laughing in a way that’s more of a sharp exhale through his nose, and then he’s rounding the counter. 

When he gets to you, he holds your chin, and you hold your breath in return, looking at him with wide eyes as he wipes it away himself.

Something shifts. You can feel the charge in the air as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and your heart does that stupid flippy thing again. This is a bad idea, you think. Since when did your life become a cheesy romcom? You don’t have time for this. Based on the sympathy in his eyes last night when you told him that, he doesn’t either. You both just got home from working on a Saturday when you were both drinking last night, for fuck’s sake. But you can’t bring yourself to pull away even as every cell in your body screams at you to run out of his apartment right now, future awkward hallway run-ins be damned. 

And then Yoongi’s apartment door is swinging open, and you’re flying away from him like shrapnel as a broad-shouldered man in a fuzzy pink sweater walks in like he owns the damn place, brown paper bags bundled in his arms.

“Yoongichiiiii,” the man sing-songs. “Your Seokjinie-hyung is here to make you dinner, you cretin!”

Yoongi, who hasn’t moved, who didn’t fly away from you like shrapnel at the interruption, finally breaks eye contact with you to look at the man. Seokjinie-hyung, apparently. 

“Do you have to barge in here, hyung?” he says, with the type of tiredness that can only come from a person who endures this kind of thing five days out of the week, minimum. Can’t relate , you think. There’s nobody breaking down your door to make you dinner. “Can’t you knock, like a normal person?”

“I didn’t anticipate you’d have company, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin says, waggling his eyebrows and looking at you. “I’m Seokjin. But you can call me oppa.” He smirks. “Unless, of course, you already call him that.”

Ew, for one. You stare at him, your lips parting in shock, because what the fuck do you say to that? You’re completely dumbfounded by this beautiful, broad, gross man. 

“Hyung,” Yoongi says sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you finally find your voice.

“I’m Yoongi’s neighbor,” you say quickly, because this complete stranger does not need to think that you are sleeping with this other complete stranger and calling him oppa, of all things? What planet did you just beam to?

“Okay, Yoongi’s neighbor,” Seokjin says, walking further into the kitchen and setting the grocery bags down on the counter. “That’s a beautiful name. Is it French?”

“Hyung, ” Yoongi repeats, louder this time, smacking the back of Seokjin’s head. “Don’t be an asshole to my guest.”

“Yah, when did you become so disrespectful!” Seokjin says, surpassing Yoongi’s volume, smacking him right back, waving his hands around as he speaks. “Am I not a guest, too? Here I am, selflessly providing you with dinner, because god knows you’re incapable of feeding yourself properly. Don’t think I don’t see the tangerines, Yoongi-yah. Was that dinner?”

Okay, yeah. You are officially a spectator to whatever the fuck this is. You’re convinced that if you try to intervene in any way, you’ll lose an arm, and you can’t seem to get your legs to work to walk out the door, as much as you may like to. You’re frozen to the spot, entranced. 

“You’re an unwanted guest,” Yoongi hisses, smacking Seokjin once again. “And I am a grown man, fully capable of feeding myself.”

“Yes, a grown man whose height topped out at five-foot-seven because of his horrific eating habits,” Seokjin retorts, narrowing his eyes at Yoongi as he starts unpacking the grocery bags. “Do you think these broad shoulders were bestowed upon me by god? They weren’t. It was kimchi-jjigae.”

“Yah, you’re only three inches taller than me, hyung. Don’t get cocky just because of a few inches,” Yoongi complains, and you swear you see him lift onto his toes for just a moment.

“Oh, but a few inches can make a world of difference, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin practically purrs, and at that you find your voice, because really, enough is enough.

“I should go!” you blurt out, and both of their heads snap in your direction comically fast. Seokjin looks amused, but also like he forgot you were there entirely, which you think is fair. Yoongi, however, looks incredibly guilty. You’d think it’s cute, if you could think anything besides ‘get out while you still can’ right now. 

Yoongi steps a little closer to you, lowering his voice so it’s only for you. You can feel your change of heart before you even process anything he says.

“I’m sorry…” he says, glancing back at Seokjin for a moment. “…For that.” He sighs. “Look, I get it if you want to bolt right now. Seokjin-hyung has that effect on people.”

You hear Seokjin’s cry of protest behind Yoongi, which Yoongi ignores.

“I just don’t want to intrude,” you say. Polite. To the point. Your last line of defense, which Yoongi is quick to crumble with his soft voice and earnest words.

“You wouldn’t be. Despite being a pain in my ass, hyung is a good cook. And he makes enough food to feed an army even when it’s just the two of us,” he continues. “I… You can stay and eat. I’d like it if you did.”

What the fuck is happening to you right now? You can’t even begin to understand why you can’t seem to say no where Yoongi is involved, despite only meeting him less than twenty-four hours ago. 

The only thing that you can tell is that it’s not just because of your attraction to him, as undeniable as it may be. You may be an introverted homebody, but you’re still a woman who gets hit on semi-frequently. If that’s what this was, no matter how pretty Yoongi is, you’re sure you’d still be able to say no. But you’re not saying no.

“…This is all very, very weird,” you say, and Yoongi breathes out a strained ‘ I know, ’ which makes you relax a little. “I’ll stay, if you insist.”

“He insists,” Seokjin says, not even bothering to look up at you as he chops vegetables.

To your surprise, Yoongi doesn’t make any kind of cutting remark in Seokjin’s direction. He just keeps his eyes on you, nods in agreement. 

“I insist.”

So you stay.

★ ★ ★

Seokjin is very insistent about not letting you help in the kitchen.

“Unless he’s chopped off a limb to get out of it in the past ten seconds I haven’t been looking at him, Yoongi-yah has two fully-functioning hands and knows his way around a kitchen. So you just sit and look pretty, and let your oppas take care of everything,” he tells you. 

You hate the delivery of that, really. But you do as he says, and it’s actually pretty nice.

Plus, you get to see just how fully-functioning those hands of Yoongi’s are. You have a fucking front row seat to the capability of those hands. 

It does not help that Seokjin insists on refilling a wine glass for you every time you take a sip, but what does help is focusing on Seokjin’s weird, kind of cute pinky fingers instead of Yoongi’s fucking sinful everything that you want in your mouth more and more as the alcohol warms you. 

The bickering between the two even seems to die down as they cook. It’s clear that the two of them have done this together before, and it even makes you wonder if they lived together for a point in time.

You learn a lot about Yoongi, too. That he works too hard, which he himself had alluded to last night, but Seokjin confirmed with a gusto that makes you think it’s probably worse than you assumed. That he’s completely powerless to his dongsaengs, which Yoongi didn’t even try to deny. That there are seven of them altogether, a close-knit friend group that will always be the seven of them barring death, and maybe even then. It’s all very sweet. 

You’re in the middle of fantasizing about what it would be like to have six friends who love you so much when Seokjin turns the conversation to you suddenly.

“What do you do, Y/N?”

“I’m a music journalist for Look Here Magazine,” you reply, starting to straighten up with pride just as you did last night when you told Yoongi, but something in Seokjin’s expression makes you freeze.

He looks pleased as fucking punch, and you’re beginning to realize that is probably never a good thing.

“Oh, are you?” he purrs.

“Hyung,” Yoongi says warily, but he looks just as confused as you feel.

“You know, our Yoongi makes music.”

“Yes, he told me,” you say slowly, your eyebrows furrowing.

“He’s very good,” Seokjin continues. “Back in college, he used to write all of these raps about eating pus—“

“YAH! Stop!” Yoongi interjects, and when you look at him he is completely pink. You were already pink from the wine, so you would guess you’re fire engine red right now, if the heat in your cheeks is any indicator. 

“You weren’t ashamed of it then, Mr. Tongue Technology,” Seokjin sniffs, doling out rice into three bowls like he didn’t just drop a bomb that you’ll be thinking about for the rest of your life, maybe. Tongue technology.

“I was twenty,” Yoongi complains. “I was young and cocky, and I had an awful group of friends who never told me how fucking stupid I sounded.” He turns to you, although he is barely able to hold eye contact. You’re in the same boat. “Please forget you ever heard that.”

You nod, stiffly. What else can you do? Say you’d like to take that tongue for a spin, right now preferably? No, no, no, no.

“How about we talk about something else?” you offer, quickly. “What do you do, Seokjin?”

That seems like the right thing to say, because even when the three of you finally sit down to eat, Seokjin is still happily going on about his aspirations as an actor.

★ ★ ★

Seokjin rubs his belly happily, slumped against his chair.

“God, I’m good,” he sighs. “Tell me how good I am, Yoongichi.”

“You’re so good, hyung,” Yoongi says flatly.

“Thank you again, for having me,” you say, smiling a little. Despite your apprehension towards Seokjin at first, dinner was surprisingly pleasant and, to his credit, really fucking good. “Both of you.”

“Ah, you should come next time all the kids are around,” Seokjin says, grinning. “It’ll be a hoot.”

Yoongi stays quiet across from you, but he meets your eyes and nods. Flip.

“Well… I’m only two doors down,” you say softly, looking down at your empty bowl.

“Just wait until Jiminie and Jeongguk get ahold of her,” Seokjin says to Yoongi. You don’t know what that could possibly mean, could mean a lot of things coming from Seokjin, but Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“It’s getting late. We should probably clean up,” Yoongi says, starting to stack the bowls. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I’m not an invalid, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin scoffs. “I can take the bus.” He stands up, snatching the bowls away from Yoongi. “Let hyung clean up and I’ll be on my way.”

Yoongi doesn’t put up a fight, handing off the bowls, and then Seokjin is in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone for the first time since tangerines and Yoongi’s thumb on your lip.

“Thank you,” you say again, this time just for Yoongi. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a night like this.”

“I wouldn’t have any nights like this if it weren’t for Seokjin-hyung and the rest of my friends,” Yoongi says, brutally honest in the way you’re figuring out he always is. “When you love what you do, it’s hard to remember that there’s anything else.”

You nod, because you know exactly what he means by that.

“I really know what it’s like. I know we just met last night, but if you ever need…” He shakes his head, putting his words together. He looks unbelievably shy, not for the first time tonight. “Ah, I’m not used to being the one to give this speech. Look, we can hang out, is all I’m saying.”

You realize then and there what Yoongi is offering, and something clicks into place. Friendship. Despite the charged moments, the clear attraction, he’s offering to be someone you can go to. Someone who gets it and won’t judge. It doesn’t feel like pity, either, strangely. This is why you can’t bring yourself to say no to him, you realize. He’s offering you something you desperately need.

You smile, despite the fact that you kind of feel like crying.

“Only if you show me those raps Seokjin was talking about.”

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj

Although this is the furthest thing from your scene, you can’t help but think to yourself that you should invest in some cowboy boots. You could make them work, you’re sure of it.

Even if you know you would never pull the trigger on purchasing any, too far out of the comfort zone of your normal style, the thought is the only thing keeping you sane—that, and the sound of Cowboy Carter blasting through the speakers of the bar, a welcome reprieve from the drawling, boring country anthems you’d been suffering through for the past hour or so. 

You pride yourself on seeing the merit in all genres of music, you do. You were always the type of person who puffed up her chest when you told people ‘I listen to everything,’ uncaring of how pretentious it may sound. You mean it. It’s an asset in your line of work, and as far as you’re concerned, a little bit of pretentiousness is a small price to pay for the, quite frankly, baller route your fledgling career is heading in. 

But a western bar? Not the kind of place you’d spend a precious Friday night willingly. Another hazard of the job.

After months of skillfully avoiding the weekly Friday nights out with the other rookie reporters at the magazine, you’d run out of excuses not to join them. If four years studying communications taught you anything, it was that connections are everything in the journalism business. Even more so where the music industry is concerned.

So here you are, at your fourth stop of your night of bar hopping with your extroverted and extremely drunk coworkers, nursing warm beer and observing from the least populated corner you managed to scout upon entry. All things considered, you had been a good sport at the three previous stops. You just draw the line at square dancing with the people you work with. College may have beaten your fear of impromptu phone calls and talking to strangers out of you, but your social battery can only take so much. 

Your phone battery, too, you think bitterly as you stare down at the low battery warning on your screen. Okay, so you’ll finish your shitty beer (because you’re not quite successful enough yet to afford wasting alcohol that you’re paying for) and then use your phone’s remaining juice to catch an Uber home. No biggie.

You’re in the middle of turning off your phone with full intent to work out the kinks of your exit strategy when you realize, with irritation, that your chosen corner is about to be invaded.

Your eyes land on a pair of black Dunks ( in a Western bar? your mind supplies, as if you have any room to judge in your Docs) and travel up, past torn black jeans and a black shirt, and just when you’re sensing a theme with this guy, your eyes reach a head of (regrettably, very nice) black hair and a pair of the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. Anish Kapoor would wail at the sight of these eyes, you think.

As if sensing your apprehension, your corner-thief raises his free hand (the other clutching a plastic cup of his own) palm out, as if to say ‘I come in peace’ and stops in his tracks.

“I can find another spot,” corner-thief says, the low rumbling of his voice barely audible above Texas Hold ‘Em. “I’m just waiting for one of my friends to get bored or injured so I can leave.”

“Injured,” you repeat, despite your better judgment to take him up on his offer and let him be on his way. But your phone is dead and you’re a little bit drunk, bored, and even for an unwanted partner in social evasion, this guy is nicer to look at than the frat guys playing beer pong you’ve been observing for the better part of an hour.

Corner-thief grins a stupidly charming gummy smile, leaning just the slightest bit closer to be heard better but still keeping a respectful distance. As if he’s still wary that you’ll lunge at him if he encroaches on your space any further. Good man.

“There’s a mechanical bull upstairs,” he says, using his index finger on the hand holding his cup to point at the ceiling above you both.

Of course there is. With your luck, you’ll also have to peel someone off of the floor later after going head-to-head with the bull.

“Not your thing?” you guess, glancing pointedly at his Jordans, and he shakes his head, huffing through his nose in what you can only guess is a laugh.

“No, I wouldn’t say so.” 

He pauses, shifting from foot to foot for a moment before speaking again. “So, will you share your wall? I can look around again but this place is more packed than I would’ve pegged it for.”

You nod and he smiles again thankfully, taking the spot on the wall next to you. That should be it. Two strangers who don’t want to be here standing in companiable silence next to each other while they wait for their friends–or coworkers, in your case–to put them out of their misery and let them go home.

But… You consider your options, your phone taking its dying breath in your pocket, and you sigh, turning to him.

“Y/N,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake. 

He takes it with his free hand, giving you an amused look. “Yoongi.”

“What’s that look for?”

He laughs again, a little bit more this time, and your heart does a stupid, funny thing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been greeted by a pretty girl in a bar with a handshake,” he says, causing you to flush and pull your hand away as if it’d been burned, your shoulders tensing as you take a sip of your beer. 

A western bar certainly isn’t your scene, but admittedly, neither are bars or clubs in general. You got all of that out of your system in college where everyone was awkward as fuck or too drunk to care that you were, and ever since you got your degree you have lived and breathed your work. Your social skills were never quite up to par, but you didn’t realize you were this fucking embarrassing.

“I came out with coworkers right after we got off, so I think I’m still kind of in work mode,” you lie, and as if sensing that you feel slightly made fun of, Yoongi shakes his head.

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, swear,” he says, tilting his head at you. Dark eyes considering you. “Honestly, I’m thankful you’re putting up with me at all. I don’t think I’d be so kind if the roles were reversed. I know firsthand how hard it is to find a spot to breathe in places like this.”

You feel your shoulder muscles relax just the slightest bit. “I thought about sending you away, but I couldn’t help it. My heart aches when I see an introvert in need of a hiding spot,” you attempt to joke. 

“At least I’m out with friends,” he says sympathetically. “I’ve done the coworker thing before. It’s a drag.”

“It’s weird ,” you correct. “I mean, I sit in meetings with these people. I avoid answering their emails all day. Why is it considered rude to not want to see them piss drunk?”

Yoongi hums in agreement, nodding his head. “What do you do, anyway?”

“I work for Look Here Magazine,” you reply, straightening up a bit in pride when Yoongi’s eyes flash with recognition, his body turning so his shoulder is against the wall now. You turn as well, facing him. “I write for the music section.”

“No shit? I’ve probably read your stuff, then,” Yoongi says, grinning. 

He’s cute. Hot. You can’t help but notice, no matter how hard you’re trying not to. The way that he seems to carry himself in particular, you think, might end up driving you crazy if you’re exposed to it for too long. Maybe you’ve been living under a rock, but you’ve never met a fellow wallflower that still exuded such confidence. He wears it insanely well.

“Look Here covers a lot of big artists,” you hear him continue. “I’m a little surprised you’re hugging the wall, honestly. This place is nothing compared to music industry parties.”

“Ah, I only started a few months ago,” you admit, looking down into your cup. “Not a lot of bylines yet. I haven’t made it into a room with an artist that big yet.”

“But you want to,” Yoongi guesses, and you nod, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks impressed, impressed by you , and that… does something to you. Huh. “Shit, that’s… That’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” you say. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, and you’re suddenly very eager to turn the attention away from yourself. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Ah,” Yoongi says, fixing his eyes to his cup just as you had a moment ago. “I’m a music producer, actually.”

You perk up at that. So that’s why he reads Look Here, why he seemed so interested when you told him what you do. 

“Anything I’ve heard?” you ask, leaning in like he’s about to tell you a secret. Networking never stops.

He watches as you lean, his mouth turning up at the corners in a smirk. “Probably.” 

You wait for more, but it doesn’t come. Shithead. So much for that.

“You’ve gotta give me more than that,” you say, and god, you can hear the pout in your own voice. Are you that drunk? Flirting for a lead in a story?

“I don’t,” Yoongi says simply, his smirk in full force now. Mean and annoying and hot. He hasn’t leaned away from you yet. “I want to know more about you, actually. Journalism is hard work. I’m surprised you have time to go out like this.”

“Like I said, I was forced.”

“Still. Spending time with your friends or family or partner or whatever must take priority when it comes to your free time.”

Why is he so interested? You scrunch your nose, trying to figure out what he could be fishing for here. You don’t make it a habit to divulge the details of your sad excuse for a personal life to strangers, but the alcohol has loosened your lips. Maybe you need to talk about it. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, anyway.

“My family is back home. My best friend is this insanely talented playwright. She’s constantly traveling. I see her when she can get some time to fly out.” You take a quick sip of your drink, ignoring the pang in your chest. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, how lonely you are. “Other than her, it’s just me, really. The dating thing… Nobody really seems to get how demanding my job can be, and it always ends in hurt feelings.”

There’s a long pause, and you’re worried you’ve shared too much. You’re enjoying talking to Yoongi. You know it doesn’t matter, that you’ll likely never see him again, but it would really, really suck if his permanent mental image of you ends up being ‘lonely weird drunk girl,’ even if that’s what you are. You force yourself to look up at him. The look in his eyes makes your heart flip stupidly again.

“I get that,” he says, and his voice is soft, barely audible over the music filling the space. You’re reading his lips more than anything, honestly, and you don’t let yourself look at them for too long. He may be pretty—unbearably so, you’re realizing—but he’s a stranger. A mean, annoying, hot, pretty stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Every guy says he gets it. This needs to stay what it is, you think. Momentary companionship between introverts who would rather die than square dance.

You don’t get much time to agonize over it. Whatever is going on between you and Yoongi is intercepted quickly by his phone buzzing in his pocket and his responding grimace when he pulls it out to check it.

“Namjoon fell off of the mechanical bull,” he says, like he’s completely unsurprised by that news. He downs the rest of his drink and pockets his phone again, pushing off of the wall. “I’ve gotta deal with that.”

You nod, pulling what you hope is a sympathetic face. “Good luck.”

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you hold your breath. He looks like he wants to say something, torn between rushing upstairs to save his friend and staying, just for a moment.

You think you know what he wants to say, think foolishly that maybe he wants to ask for your number, and you honestly don’t know if you’d give it to him if he did. You’re so used to saying no.

He runs his fingers through his hair, opens his mouth to speak, and then he looks down like his phone is buzzing again. When he looks back up, it seems like he’s thought better of it.

“Thanks for sharing your wall,” he settles on, smiling congenially. You smile back, and then he’s heading towards the stairs.

Good, you think. You know better. If he really gets it, he does too.

★ ★ ★

You’re dragged out to one more bar before you finally make it home, your interaction with Yoongi having knocked you off-kilter enough to agree to a few more drinks.

It does wonders for your social status at work, you’re sure, but by the time you’re dropped off you’re dizzy-drunk, fighting to stay upright in the elevator of your apartment building.

You’re fumbling and failing at getting your key into the lock of your front door, tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration, when a voice calling your name a few feet to your right almost makes you jump out of your skin.

You yell, clutching your chest, and when you turn to face the owner of the voice that almost made you lose the contents of your stomach on your doormat, you’re greeted by none other than corner-thief-mean-annoying-hot-pretty Yoongi himself, leaning against the door to the apartment two doors down.

“What the fuck,” you blurt out dumbly, and he laughs. At you! How dare he stand there, lean there, all hot and annoying and in your apartment building for some fucking reason and laugh at you.

“I was going to ask if you needed help,” he says, and oh, fuck. You were safe from just how deep his voice was under the thrum of the music at the bar, but in the quiet of your apartment building this late, you can hear it just fine. Feel it, even. Feel it in places you do not want to humor right now. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you do.”

It’s obvious that Yoongi is faring much better than you are, although his night clearly didn’t end after the mechanical bull incident. Faster than you can react, he’s right in front of you, gently taking your key from your hands and turning it in the lock, like it’s easy.

“Gonna make it in okay?” he asks, looking down at you. You force your brain to make words.

“I’ll be okay,” you assure him, your tongue heavy in your mouth. “Are you stalking me?”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I think we’re neighbors.”

“Oh.” Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Just because he’s your neighbor doesn’t mean you have to do something stupid, like see him ever again.

“Give me your number,” he says softly. Oh.

You blink at him, and he grins. Gummy smile. You feel like you’re going to vomit all over his Jordans.

“In case you ever can’t use your keys again,” he clarifies. “I told you, those music industry parties are killer.”

And really, you’re powerless to resist. You give him your number, using all of your remaining brain power to remember the order of the digits. Seemingly satisfied, Yoongi pockets his phone and steps back, heading back to his front door.

“Goodnight, neighbor,” he says, unlocking his door with ease. “Sleep on your side.”

You swallow thickly and nod, slipping inside your own apartment as quickly as you can manage. 

Once you’re in, you sink onto the floor, your back pressed against the door behind you. Your cat, perched on your coffee pot, stares at you in your drunk, flustered state, unimpressed. Offended, even, judging by the way she licks her paw.

You’re so fucked.

Life has made you both selfish and made you blind to morality—the words right and wrong got blurred together the more you did it. The more it became normal—a weekly appointment, almost.

What is right is wrong, what is wrong is right.

And that is what Jeon Jungkook is. A wrong that feels so right, it poisons your mind.

He is venom, and you were his victim, drinking the poison he handed to you without hesitation.

But what is another sin to a sinner? What is another wrong-doing to someone who has hit rock-bottom?

It is too late to come back to life when you’re already dead—contaminated.

And so, you answer him.

You : Be there in 10.

You put on blue jeans, a white shirt, and head out into the night, passing through the deserted streets of Seoul, to the destination where all sin becomes heaven. Bliss.

You have told yourself so many nights that it would be the last time you saw him, that it would be the end of your addiction to him. But you always ended up relapsing, going back to your ways before you could even question yourself.

He was a drug and you were searching for the euphoria that only he could ever give you. Always coming back for more when all he does is ruin you and everything you believe in.

You used to be good before you met him. A person that could never do no wrong, an angel—but he destroyed that the minute his siren eyes caught yours on that fateful day. He caused you to fall into the depth of regret that is disguised with ecstasy whenever you see him.

He coloured your bright colors blue while his hands covered his hands, and all you know now is the false rainbow he gives you whenever you go back to him.

You’re almost there. To your poison.

You know the streets by head, it’s almost a reflex to follow the path to his house by now. The pathway that leads to your beautiful and addicting destruction.

You park your car outside and get out to finally enter the building you’ve come to know as your midnight home.

You enter the elevator, and every fiber in your being gets awakened, forgetting the numbness that haunts your days without him, and will finally get the fulfillment life never gives you.

But he gives it to you, even if it’s only during the unholiest of hours. Even if it’s only for a few moments.

Maybe that’s why you always go back to him. The nights you spend together are the only escape you have of the real world, of the harsh reality that lies outside of his apartment.

But you know that a few hours of pleasure can’t make up for the misery of the life you live.

A life alone, with no one to ever love you or call you theirs. Of melancholy days, wishing for the bright colors he gave you when you last saw him.

You wish for it to last forever instead of a few hours—but beggars can’t be choosers, can they?

You knock on the door, and before you know it, tattooed hands grab your wrist and force you inside. Lips are on yours at a painfully rough pace, nothing you aren’t used to.

You kiss him back like you always do, letting your body fall to the bliss that is him, to fall for the wishful thinking that this will last forever.

“Fucking slut,” Jungkook hisses in your ear as he takes off your jeans with a rough move of his hands, and you only whine at his words. “Always so desperate for me, aren’t you baby?”

You nod your head, getting lost in the haze that your mind slips into. You fucking missed this—you haven’t seen him in so long, and the lonliness was starting to worsen every day when his hands weren’t on you.

“You want this, yeah?” You hum, nodding your head rapidly, and your heart beats even faster.

No matter what, he always asks for your consent, and your heart never fails to flutter.

Two fingers enter your cunt so fast, all you can do is moan, mind entering the pleasure you sought for so many weeks when you only had your hand to give you relief. But they weren’t his hands.

“On your knees. Now.” His words are sharp, and you don’t think, only listen to his instructions, your knees already on the floor, the action already muscle memory.

Jungkook smirks at you, wicked intentions in his heart as he looks at you in the darkest of ways—possessed with lust and the need to ruin you.

And you’re ready for him—ready to be ruined by him. For him.

Jungkook loves you like this, on your knees, submitting to him with no questions asked. You know he loves it, that’s why you do it. To see the look of satisfaction on his face; that’s all you ever want, really.

To be wanted by him. To be chosen by him, even when it’s only at night, when the city sleeps and only the wretched stay awake.

You became wretched for him—wicked in ways you never thought you would be.

All for him. Even if it means becoming what angels fear most.

Jungkook pulls down his sweatpants and his cock slaps on your face, and you can’t help but drool over the sight of it—you missed it so fucking much.

You completely forgot how big it is, in length and girth—enough to make you cry whenever he enters you.

“Open your mouth, whore.” He seethes and you do as told, opening your mouth wide for him, and you moan when he thrusts into you.

His tattooed hand grabs a fit of your hair, and he starts to spill roughly into you, sparing no mercy to your mouth even when you gag, chasing his own pleasure.

“You love this cock, huh? Little slut.” He smirks, and you nod, not having enough strength to mutter a word as his dick is balls deep inside your mouth.

Pools of saliva form on your mouth and drips on your chin as he bucks his hips, his pace ruthless as he thrusts inside you.

The way his face contorts as he continues to thrust roughly will always be the reminder why you do this—you love being the cause of his pleasure. Of being needed by him, of having any type of effect on him. Having his attention all to yourself.

It makes you fall for the sweet illusion that he is yours for a few hours before he goes back to another.

To her. The one you will forever envy with every ugly, vile part of your being. The one that is enough to make the purest souls die.

His head rolls back while curses repeatedly come out of his mouth, and tears spill from your eyes as you gag on his cock,

Jungkook growls, feeling his high near, “You’re gonna swallow my cum like the good whore you are.”

You nod your head, and his grunts get louder until he spills his cum inside your mouth. He pulls out, panting from post-orgasm bliss, and you stare at him, at the art that is Jeon Jungkook, feeling blessed for seeing such a beautiful sight up close.

“Swallow.” He mutters breathlessly as he grabs your cheeks, squeezing them, and you follow his words. You swallow, moaning as you do it, to entice him, but he only chuckles.

“You’re such a little whore.” Jungkook gives you his infamous, dark, smirk, and you look up at him, waiting for the instructions he will give. “Mine.” His teeth clench as he squeezes your cheeks even more, enough to leave marks from his nails digging into your skin.

You moan at his words. His, his, his.

Those words must be what heaven feels like.

Jungkook grabs your face and pulls you toward him to stand up, and his lips are on yours again, in the same rough pace as before, devouring your mouth as if you were his meal.

Jungkook lifts you up, and your legs wrap themselves on his waist instinctively. Jungkook leads you both to the bedroom so fast that you don’t register you are inside it, too busy getting lost in his addicting kisses, until he throws you on the bed.

You whine, and his hand comes to your waist to manhandle you, turning you so you are on all fours and ready for him. Jungkook rips out the rest of your clothes, but keeps his own t-shirt in like always. You’ve never seen what his chest is like, and never will.

It’s reserved for the woman that has the right to claim him.

His cock enters you in one thrust, and you almost scream from the pain that is mixed with sweet pleasure. You hear Jungkook’s chuckle, mocking your desperation for him, humiliating you. You let him—you always have.

It’s sad, pathetic—but anything for love, right?

“You’re gonna take all this cock, aren’t you, doll?”

You lose your mind at the pet name, and only moan in response, going almost insane while feeling his big cock inside your walls, a small bulge forming on your stomach.

Jungkook’s hand connects with your slit, and you let out a high-pitched moan as he rubs your folds while his cock stays inside you. “So fuckin’ wet.”

“All for you.” You groan when he rubs your clit at a slow pace, and you know a smirk lies on his face at your words, at your confirmation that this is all for him and no one else.

“For me, huh?” You nod as he continues to rub your clit expertly, shivers coursing through your spine as your want—your need for him overwhelms your senses.

“Mhm!” Jungkook’’s hand suddenly grabs your ass before slapping it, your ass cheek jiggling. A groan leaves his mouth while a whine leaves yours, and your head spins with the pain that comes from his harsh slap. It will certainly form a mark—his mark, for everyone to see. Those that he is allowed to paint you with, but you can’t do the same for him.

Although you see other marks from her painted all over his body, mocking you, showing you that he is hers when the sun comes up and the city awakes.

“Gonna fuck you so good, doll. You want it?”

“Yes, please!” Jungkook only hums, urging you to beg even more. You fucking need him. “Ruin me, Jungkook. Please.”

You beg desperately—for his cock, his heart, his love. He only gives you one.

Jungkook thrusts inside you with a bite of his lip, and your head falls forward to the mattress at his roughness. Your slick coats his cock, he can see it so well under the moonlight, and Jungkook almost moans at the sight of it. So fucking dirty.

Jungkook starts to thrust in and out, sparing no mercy to your cunt as he fucks you balls deep inside your cunt. His tattooed hand slaps your jiggling ass cheek, his eyes filled with glint as he watches it move.

  Suddenly Jungkook shifts your position so he lays his back on the mattress, and you are on top of him, facing the wall. Reverse cowgirl is what they call it.

You gasp and whine at his sudden movements, missing the filling of his cock stretching you out. “Ride my cock like the good little slut you are.” Jungkook commands you through gritted teeth, and his hands connect with your hips, helping you sink down on him.

“Fuuuuck.” You curse, starting to bounce up and down his dock, sounds of skin slapping and lewd sounds of your juices echoing through the room—sounds of illicit affairs.

Jungkook never leaves his eyes off your ass, going insane over the view of your sexy ass jiggling as you bounce on his cock up and down, your slick covering his length as it disappears inside you.

Jungkook thrusts up, meeting your bounces, and sweet, dirty little ‘ah’s’ leave your mouth as your head rolls back in the pure pleasure that courses through your body.

“Rub your clit for me, baby.” Jungkook says through gritted teeth, and you do as told, moaning pornography when your finger rubs your clit.

During the haze your mind slips into, your eyes still catch the photo that lies in front of you, mocking you, showing what you will never have even when he’s now under you.

A framed photo of him and his wife, both smiling, both their eyes staring at you, judging you. Copying the eyes of what the world thinks of you.

You will never have him. You will never be his in the ways you want to—no, you will always be just a whore in his eyes.

Tears start falling down your cheeks, from the hole in your heart, the lingering pain coming to haunt you during your time to forget about your demons, mixed with the guilty pleasure that your high brings you.

During your orgasm, more tears fall down, and you’re so caught up

in your head that you don’t realize you’re now under Jungkook as he continues to thrust into you, chasing his orgasm while you stand there in misery.

It becomes too much. Your limits have been crossed, and now not even the man who takes it all away is enough to blind you from the outside world. From your most cursed demons.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cry.” Jungkook moans into your ear and finally pulls out and rubs his cock until he finally cums on your stomach, painting you with all his release while you stand there, with your heart burning inside you as you watch Jungkook get lost into his orgasm.

Panting, Jungkook falls beside you, and you look at the ceiling, with your heart shrinking and your thoughts filled with all the reasons why you should let him go.

He always lets you go, why couldn’t you do the same?

“I never stood a chance, did I?” You whisper, and Jungkook turns his head to stare at you, his eyebrows furrowed at your question.

“You’ll always go back to her, won’t you, Jungkook?” You continue to stare at the ceiling, refusing to look into his eyes and fall into the trap of false hope and addiction.

Jungkook will always choose to go back to her after he’s done with you, he’ll discard you like the trash you are and only pick you up whenever he needs release.

Both using each other as a means for escape from harsh reality.

But, one escapes for love—the other escapes for the selfishness of his heart.

“You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to sleep with me.” Jungkook says, recalling the day you sealed your fate to the devil, and you only hum, rivers of tears for the man beside you rolling down your cheeks.

You’re tired of waiting for him, for him to see you. But he never does, and you’re tired—exhausted of being just another side piece he regards as having no feelings.

You have feelings, you are alive—you are fucking human. One that let herself fall for a man with all the wrong reasons.

“Please, don’t text me again, Jungkook.” You get up from the bed and walk towards the living room, where your clothes are, all the while trying to ignore the soreness between your legs, praying they won’t let you fall to the ground.

“You don’t mean that.” Jungkook says, chuckling, not believing your words.

You put on your clothes, knives stabbing your heart every second your body moves away from him—longing to be with him, for him to care for you, love you.

For you to fall into the illusion that is the comfort of being touched as he loves you.

As if you are loved when you aren’t.

Truly, the loneliest of souls are a fool for love disguised as misery.

“Bye, Jungkook.”

You finally get out of the door of your own accord, without him having to kick you out as soon as his high is finished.

And Jungkook doesn’t try to reach for you, beg you to come back for you, because he doesn’t love you.

No—for him, for the world, you will always be nothing but the other woman.

Tuesday

The distant sounds of footsteps echoed throughout the brightened luxury shed. Your body lied underneath a 5 ton beast - built in with the intensity you'd only ever see on that race course. You felt the grease and sweat stick to your skin as you fixed a problem underneath the exhaust valve. Your eyes peered upwards from your laying position - to the engine oil as it dropped into the bucked you'd placed underneath - these cars… were so powerful - but required so much TLC.

You coughed as you smelt the gas from the exhaust - this particular car had issues, always backfiring - so here you were, underneath the beast - trying to dismantle the valves and replacing them with new ones. You couldn't imagine how expensive these car pieces were for the new Porsche GT3 - but this one had a run-in with unexpected problems.

Such a shame. It was a beauty to be wrecked with. But you knew how to look after cars, after all, it was all you were good at.

"Ahem -" You felt someone lightly kick your leg - forcing you to stop what you were doing and roll out underneath the car. Your eyes adjusted for a moment, squinting to the LEDs in the expensive car garage. Your face scrunched up, slowly softened as you relaxed, "Oh, Gerimiah, what are you doing here?" His eyes raked your own, following them as you sat up from your position.

Gerimiah was one of the Formula drivers. Not the greatest, personality-wise, but that didn't matter for whoever he was representing - he was a damn good race car driver. The 28-year-old huffed in annoyance, before crossing his arms. "When is the Porsche going to be ready?" He asks, looking at the multi-sponsored stickers placed around the car, before returning his eyes to your own. "I'll need it for the race in 3 days. It still needs to be test driven."

You grinned at him. His eyebrows raised at your facial expression. "No worries, Geri," You lifted yourself off the seat you had been on all afternoon - trying to fix his Porsche that he kept ruining, with his reckless race driving. "Be ready for ya when I finish it." You looked at the watch on your wrist, tapping it slightly for it to turn on. "Gotta be another six hours on this one. The timing chain is off too - maybe bring it in as soon as you experience these issues, rather than waiting for you to backfire mid race."

This man had no intuitive, no experience with how long it can take to fix cars. And lastly, no respect for the car. No respect for a car, and the car will retaliate. You couldn't blame them - they were their own beings - especially cars like this.

Gerimiah scowled in response to your own - kicking across your car tools. He stepped closer to you, leaning in - God, his breath stank like shit. "Listen here, yn," He mumbled, his lips curled upwards as he spoke. "I don't appreciate the disrespect - if it wasn't for racers like me, you'd have no job." He placed his hand to your shoulder, your head turned to his hand, before looking back at him with a nonchalant expression.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head, before flicking his hand off yourself. "Who are you to tell me if I haven't got a job? A little engine told me.. One more mistake for you.. and you're scrapped from next season." You turned around, leaning down to put your scattered tools away.

"Who told you that?" His voice rasped out. You could practically feel his nerves. It was amusing - what a highly egotistical man, for his calibre. You turned around, a small smirk etched your features, "I'm a car engineer, I hear everything here.." You placed the last tool in your toolbox before looking back at him. "I even heard a new racer might be joining your ranks - better be careful.." You wiped the grease off your hands, before leaning on the Porsche. "He might take this baby off your hands." You traced the bumper of the car momentarily before looking back at him.

Take it from a woman like you to… tease - no, taunt… that's a better word for whatever you were doing. Sometimes what you said was wrong, sometimes what you said was right, but men like Gerimiah… yeah they couldn't take it. As you blinked, you notably found yourself pushed against the bumper - a sharp pain etched and pierced your cheek.

You moved your hand up to your cheek, be it shock, your mouth gaped at the audacity of the man in front of you. His eyes pierced your face - as his own lip quivered in nerves. You stayed silent for a moment - realising he had just hit you. It seemed as if he himself hadn't realised what he had done.

"D-Don't talk shit yn.." His face flushed up, clear from his own anxiety - and from that he paused, his breath rigid. "Don't talk about shit you don't know." With that, and no time for you to respond, he fled the garage - you, shocked at what happened. You stood beside the car, musing in thoughts, as you looked down at your dented tool box.

You instantly picked up a spanner, throwing it at the nearest wall. "God, that fucker.. I could just -" You rambled to yourself, as you clenched your still greasy hands. You paused next to the car, contemplating.

Don't fix the timing chain - let him lose. He won't continue to be a race car driver. Tamper it.

What type of spastic hits a woman?

Put unleaded instead of the-

"Yn! Are you there?"

Your eyes manoeuvred around the garage - your thoughts interrupted by another voice. This time, you're thankful it wasn't Gerimiah returning… Oh he's such a shit cunt.

Two hands gripped your shoulders as they turned you around. Jimin. Thank God… You sighed as you met his own eyes.

You smiled sheepishly. You were thankful to see his pretty face.

Jimin was another Formula 1 Racer, albeit, a consequently far better one at that. His fans adored him. You'd consider yourself one - if he wasn't your friend already. But who says you couldn't be fans of your own friends.

Jimin cooked his head to the side, almost observingly. His eyebrows narrowed in on your face before he reached for your cheek. "What the fuck happened to your face?" His question left you unguarded - you forgot about the pain until his cooler hand reached for it.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as he pressed you for information. "It's alright, Mini - I'm alright.. Just the spanner dropped on my face." You spoke nonchalantly, feeling your own cheek - well aware there was potentially a prominent bruise already developing on your cheek.

Jimin listened to your response before scoffing to himself. He rested a hand on the Porsche - as he ran his other through his blonde hair. "The spanner is next to the wall - meaning you threw it." He glared at you, before moving to pick it up. He reached for the tool, picking it up - before walking back to you.

He placed the tool in your tool box, before he sucked in a breath. "There's also an identifiable hand print on your face - and I watched Gerimiah rush out of here with a guilty look on his face."

You chewed on your bottom lip, out of habit, you licked your lips before humming, "It's fine.. like I said - I'll be alright. You know I'll get him back." You tried winking at him, however your eye flinched and you winced at the sting that only now had actually began spreading across your left cheek.

Jimin grumbled something to himself, his mind in deep thought before he grabbed your hand, pulling you to the first-aid box. You assumed he was grabbing a cold pack out - probably to help with that throbbing feeling you now felt on your face.

You sat down on one of the couches in the employee lounge. The garage was an extension of a circuit - linked into the business rooms - showrooms. The whole place itself was built for the race cars. Each sector had a different car - different team, so forth. The garage was sent through any car, for every problem. The only problem - some racers thought they owned the place.

"I'm just going to report him to the federation board. He does that with everyone," Jimin opened the first aid box, scrummaging around before finding the cold pack. "He's an asshole. Not just to people, but in the races - the amount of times he's tried to run me off the circuit… Yeah, he's not fun to be around." Jimin mumbled to you, his hand squeezed the cold pack - activating it's properties, before he crouched down to the height of where you were sitting.

Jimin carefully examined your cheek, tracing the main bruise lightly - before placing the cold pack on your face. He motioned for you to take it from his hands - as you did, he spoke once more."You're just as important as us racers. Without you, we have no cars to drive. What's a racer without their mechanics, their car engineers?"

You smiled at his words. Jimin was always good with his words - he knew exactly what to say and how to say it. You, on the other hand, were more temperamental - you spoke without thought. That often got you into these types of situations. Not that Gerimiah didn't deserve a good retaliation - you were sure you'd eventually get your revenge. It would be self-defence after all.

You just weren't as kind-hearted as Park Jimin. No one was.

Thursday

A loud sound rang through your early morning coffee time. You slugged your way to your phone as the pot in your kitchen heated up, picking up your phone you looked absently at the bright screen momentarily.

Wane Hill (Boss)

Your eyes widened as you woke up slightly, noticing the call from your boss. You tapped the green button emulating on your phone, accepting the call. You wondered for a second why he was calling. One thought was the incident that happened on Tuesday. Was it really possible that Jimin had actually told him about what happened?

"Hi boss, how're you doing?" You spoke slowly, bringing the phone up to your ear. You watched your pot click finish as you poured the hot water from it in a mug with your other hand.

"Yn. Good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?" His voice rang in your ear as you prepared your morning coffee. You didn't need to be in the garage until a little later today. You were thankful for the multitude of mechanics that were scattered around - besides, it wasn't really your job to fix cars - you simply did them for fun. Your job was a little more important than just a mechanic. So was your pay grade.

"Uh. Good, sir." You chewed your bottom lip in suspense. You really couldn't be bothered hearing the bad news, especially first thing in the morning. You absentmindedly opened a kitchen draw, picking up a small teaspoon.

"Good news? We got a new racer. Min Yoongi. He's one of the best upcoming and new racers in the industry. He will be driving for Porsche - so he's driving the 911 Porsche GT3 you fixed the other day, today. Bad news? Gerimiah is gone…" Your boss stopped speaking for a moment, as you took in the news. By then you had already finished stirring your coffee - had time to actually sip it.

You hummed to yourself. Thankfully you didn't tweak the car, and fixed it properly…

"Huh. Really? What's the reasoning?" You coughed slightly from your hot coffee. You had a feeling the reasoning wasn't his driving, but something a little more closer to your incident on Tuesday.

"I think you know, Yn. I heard about the incident from one of our other industry drivers. That type of behaviour isn't okay in this industry.. So he was let go. Yn. Let me know next time these things happen. I know you're stubborn - but talk to me, next time." You hummed in response, as you drank down your morning coffee. You internally grinned at hearing this. Thankfully you didn't have to resort to your own karma - karma did its own work.

"Got it, sir. Anything else?" You, by now, finished your coffee - putting the cup absent-mindedly in your sink - filling it with water before leaving it there for you to do later. You had to start getting ready for work.

"Yeah. One more thing. Get your ass in here and meet the new driver. Show him the car, introduce him to the crew." With that, your boss hung up and you placed your phone back on the counter. This was going to be a big day.

You closed your car door firmly as you clenched your car keys. You turned for a moment as you pressed the lock on your keys, making sure your car did so. As it did, you heard it's small, short-lived 'beep' to let you know it did.

You made your way to the car park elevator, pressing the '^' button on the side. As you waited patiently for the elevator, you tucked your car keys in your bag and grabbed your water bottle. By the time you had done so, the elevator reached your level.

You hopped inside the flashy elevator, pressing the floor you needed to be on. You weren't in the garage so much today. Mainly with board members, racers and sponsors. That made you slightly nervous - having to introduce new racers was always something you despised. You had watched at least several dozen times, the same thing goes.

You introduce a racer to the board members, the sponsors - the racer fails to comply with rules later on, or isn't as good as they hoped. They kick the bucket, then let them go. Simple as that.

Your eyes fixed themselves on the doors opening, as you walked out the elevator. You needed to figure out where the racer you were introducing was. Not in the mood for this part of the job.

"Yn. Over here." You were just about to head to reception when you're called over. You turned your head, halting your movements. You spotted Wane, your boss, standing next to someone who had their back turned to you, speaking to someone beside them.

You walked over to your boss, not before sneaking a sip on your water as you closed the lid. You chucked the water bottle back in your bag, as you met a good distance from your boss. You shook his hand, professionally. "Sir. How are you this morning?"

Your tone radiated professionalism. You weren't here to make mistakes, or get distracted. You were here to win the game - to be chief executive engineer. Counted, that role was more than further away from now. You were only 23, after all.

Your eyes met his own wrinkled ones, observing them as he began speaking. "Yn. I'd like to formally introduce you to our new race car driver." You turned your head, facing the suited up driver. You couldn't see his face as he had been speaking to a board member behind him.

Wane tapped him on the shoulder, and you watched intently as he stopped speaking to the person, nodding before bowing slightly. The new driver turned back around, now facing you.

You almost held your breath as his face tilted to your direction. His wavy hair looked to be almost floating the way it volumised on him. His features were no different - if you could, you'd say he looked feline-like. To say the least, he was beautiful.

His lip curled slightly as he looked your way. It seemed as if he were doing almost the same thing as you had been to him. The way you noticed his own eyes - the way they creased slightly at you. "Yn." You left the driver's intense gaze, as you turned your head to face your boss'. "This is the new driver I was telling you about this morning." Wane spoke as he gestured to the man in front of you. Huh… New driver. "Yn. This is Min Yoongi." Your eyes met Yoongi's, once more, as he extended his hand.

"Yoongi. This is our finest car engineer, Yn. Have a problem with your car, speak to her first - before you go to just any mechanic." Wanes' voice vaguely faded out as you raised your own hand, shaking Yoongi's. His hand slightly gripped yours, tighter than you, as you bowed your head in respect.

Your eyes lifted off your hand, as you let go of his own. Back up to his eyes, you observed his face. Lip curled, ever so slightly - furrowed in brows, almost as if he was concentrating on something. You had a guess who that might’ve been. He tilted his head down slightly, "Finest car engineer?" Yoongi's eyes creased slightly, however, you couldn't help but smile sheepishly back.

You lip sucked into your mouth, chewing on it; your habit picked up again. He continued to gaze at you as he spoke. "I'll be sure to go to Yn here for all my car problems - should they arise. I'm sure she'll be able to help out with anything, right?" Yoongi's eyes left yours, as he looked back at your boss.

You watched quietly as your boss nodded vigorously. "Absolutely! There's nothing that Yn can't do." God. Now you're embarrassed. He's making you out to be a big shot. Your eyes danced between the two, as you stood there. What do you even say? Thank you?

"Uh. Thanks, Boss." You coughed out, awkwardly standing there for a moment as you clutched one hand on your bag. You looked behind the two, now noticing the other board member going into the meeting room.

"Shall we go in now?" You turned the attention elsewhere as you gestured a hand behind Yoongi. You had a feeling this meeting was going to be long.

Six hours. Six fucking hours, did that meeting take.

You bowed to the last executive board members as you bid them all farewell. You sighed, after beginning to pick up all the excess paperwork you'd been given. New contracts, intellectual properties, signatures, NDAs. The boring but important information. You shoved the thick stapled papers into your bag as you closed up the board meeting room.

You dangled your keys in your hand for a moment, as you glanced at the keychain on them. You zoned off into them for a moment. That feeling you get when you're aware of your surroundings, but you're just blankly staring at something. Daydreaming.

"Can't be that good of a keychain, can it?" A voice interjected your thoughts, causing you to stop what you were doing. You shook your head, remembering where you were - however, noticing your new Porsche team driver, relaxing, sitting on one of the executive leather seats; his phone swung around clockwise between his index finger and thumb.

You scoffed lowly, your eyes trailing from his fingers, back up to his face. He had a tired expression plastered on his face - you could definitely see he was restless from the six hour-long meeting you both had just endured. Yoongi grasped his phone firmly before shoving it in his suit pocket.

His eyes met your own now, as he lazily ran his fingers through his hair. You stared for a few moments before checking the time on your watch: 8:47pm. You looked back up from your watch as you felt your throat constricting from nerves, "What are you still doing here? Don't you have a race tomorrow? Go home." You pestered him as he rubbed his arm.

A small, but definitely mighty - lazy smirk formed on the edges of his mouth, filling you with a unique feeling. "Aren't you supposed to show me my car? Test drive it with me.?" He questioned, lifting himself off the seat. As he did, you could almost hear the surroundings sound of the leather returning back to its original form.

"I'm tired. Let's do it tomorrow morning." You began as you pushed your keys in your pocket - alongside your hand. You moved your body from the board meeting door, now almost itching to leave.

You couldn't help yourself. This man was quite almost the most stunning man you'd ever seen in your life. But you promised yourself no distractions. Certainly not from any Formula 1 race car drivers.

A hand gripped your forearm almost too quickly - as you attempted to leave, manoeuvring around Yoongi. "Hey. Wait." He murmured, loosening his hand from your arm. You barely noticed your flinch from his fast reflexes, but he surely did. Your body unconsciously must've thought he may have gone in to hit you.

Pfffttt. You internally scoffed. As if he would. Your eyes found his own. Goddamnit. Thanks Gerimiah.

"Fine. But make this quick. I haven't got all night." You rushed. Shrugging the remaining touch of Yoongi off your arm. You puffed out a breath as you walked away from Yoongi - almost exhaling loudly.

"So you're telling me the last driver, Jeremy -"

"No I said Gerimia -" You corrected, shaking your head to Yoongi as you finally sat in the passenger seat of the Porsche. You looked away for a second buckling yourself in.

"I don't care what his name is. You're telling me that guy slapped you because you had to fix the timing chain in this car. Something that obviously takes time - and he couldn't bring it to you earlier?" His eyes flickered between your eyes, a disgusted look etched upon his face.

You almost found it cute. No.

You ignored the subconscious thoughts itching your brain as you spoke with him. You opened the glove box hastily - tearing your eyes from his own, as you picked up the spare key for the car. "Yeah…" You trailed off. "So take it from someone who has seen dozens of drivers come and go," you said nonchalantly as you placed the key in his hands. "You never know when you'll have your last ride."

His face spoke more than you thought he even realised. He gripped the key, before placing it in the ignition. You almost found, by observation, that he often never spoke directly to your face - be it a sense of eye contact he disliked, or perhaps a sense of anxiety. Even just meeting him today, you could already tell he was like this. You'd say he was an open book.. but open books tend to flicker their pages from time to time. They never stayed in one spot.

He turned the car on - a loud roar echoed throughout the garage as he did. You hadn't test driven it yet - so you hoped the timing chain actually worked this time.

"Be careful with her, she's still a work in progress." You murmured, your hands caressed the console- the light smell of leather fuelling your senses. "This one has a tendency to backfire."

You turned your head from the console, as you heard Yoongi chuckle. "Treat a car well, and it'll treat you well in return." He coaxed, almost entranced by the car itself. His fingers wrapped themselves around the wheel. "Don't worry, Yn, I'm a great driver."

His eyes met yours momentarily before moving one of his hands to the gear shifts, reversing the car back. You felt the small buzz of the engine as you reversed out the garage - moving towards the small test driving circuit.

"Remember, take it easy -" You rambled as your arms crossed. "I'm not in those suits you drivers are in - I don't think I'll be able to handle going too fast." These cars were beasts, like you always had said. The horsepower, most people would underestimate. You hoped Yoongi would not underestimate this car.

You watched as Yoongi rolled his tongue in his mouth before quickly taking a glance at you. You raised your eyebrow as he smirked. You found him to be almost taunting you slightly - as he revved the acceleration - shifting into sixth gear.

You gasped slightly at the pressure - your back going further into your seat. "Yoongi.." You warned - feeling your head spin slightly from the corners. He, however, began to chuckle - before slowing himself down, even just a fraction - it still made a huge difference.

"Relax, Yn. I'm just playing," he hushed you, as one of his hands steered the car - the other blatantly resting on the gear shift. "I'm aware you don't have protective gear on.. so don't worry your little mind - I won't hurt you."

Him shushing you had made you want to respond - your mouth gaped slightly, wanting to say something. You decided against it. Seeing no use to speak of other miscellaneous things, if not about work.

Your mind drifted off, as you continued to observe the car. As Yoongi drove, there was not once a feeling of misfiring pistons, or engine backfiring. In fact, you would have to agree, Yoongi was, in fact, a great driver.

After approximately an hour of test driving the car, you both ended back up at the garage. As Yoongi turned the car off - you spoke up softly. "I've got to say. I'm a little impressed." You watched Yoongi as a smirk formed on his face. "No - no." You reprimanded, holding your hand up before continuing, "I'm impressed the car didn't backfire. Mainly impressed on myself.. don't get your hopes up."

Yoongi chuckled at your response as you slightly shrunk back into your seat. Of course his laugh had to be attractive. No. No.

His eyes gleamed a sense of playfulness as he raised a singular eyebrow back at you."Oh. The car? The car impressed you.? You impressed yourself?" He tilted his head, a fraction of his hair dropped into his face frame - as he leaned a little closer. "Hmm. Are you sure about that?" He hummed, his tongue grazed the front section of his lips.

You gulped. Get out. Abort. Where's that confidence? Yn. Head in mindless thoughts you scrunched your face up as a response to his comments. The two of you locked eyes for several seconds. That was when you began to become fidgety, you had never been like this with anyone. Ever.

"Alright. I'm tired - I'm outta here." You spluttered out, swiftly taking the keys from Yoongi's open hand - shoving them in the glove box. You broke eye contact as you opened the car door, only for your hand to be caught by a certain person's hand. "Slow down, little racer.." He dimly began, his voice lowering a small octave. You looked anywhere but into his eyes. "Look at me, little racer."

You couldn't help but look into those eyes, once more. His features softened from the gazed expression he had just moments ago. "I was only teasing. I'm sorry if you didn't like that." Yoongi murmured, his hand absently still holding your own. You felt something stir in your own body as he apologised.

Unaware his thumb had been slightly caressing the outside of your hand. You felt something fluttering settle within your body - and it almost made you dizzy. Your body - half out of the car, half in - sat absent of any emotion. You never really liked showing much. Especially at work. You didn't need to. You worked with cars, people? Not so much.

You blinked slowly before you lightly shook your head at him. "No. It's fine." You muttered lowly, eyes connected with him. "I'm just tired. Boss had me up at the crack of dawn to make sure you had everything for the meeting this afternoon. He's not joking when he says I do everything. I really do."

Yoongi chewed his lip, before moving his hand from yours, to his throat - scratching it slightly. "No. I get that. No stress.." He moved his body in the seat for a second, squirming - you almost thought he was nervous - only to exhale a short-lived laugh. "You'll be up at the crack of dawn again for me tomorrow. Won't you?" Yoongi smirked, causing you to huff in annoyance.

You shook your head at him, as you took the rest of your body out of the car. You closed the door, watching as Yoongi swiftly took himself out of the car, his head popped over the roof - "Wane gave me your number, I'll be in contact."

You feigned a look of disgust - as you turned away from him, walking towards the set of elevators near the garage. You shouted slightly as you pushed the elevators button. "No thanks. Prefer if you don't."

D - 1 Race Day

The echo of cars, as they zoomed past the pits, always excited you. You could never think of anything else that pushed adrenaline so rast through you. The crowd cheering, engines roaring. You could almost imagine yourself in the seats of one. You wanted to race at least once in your life. Even if it were at the lower levels. You didn't care any less.

Your laminated AAA lanyard swished back and forth on your chest as you walked closer to the Porsche sector pits. You were a little nervous, but adamant about Yoongi racing in the race today. You had never seen him race, not once, and you were unsure how he even became a race car driver. You didn't even know about him until he got here.

A drift of wind blew your hair in all directions as you glanced up at the sky. The grey-ish clouds cut short the light that the sun emitted into the atmosphere. You furrowed your eyebrows as you began noticing the wind pick up. It felt like the weather today wouldn't be too nice. You even picked up an extra jacket, just in case you got cold.

You figured it'd be safer than sorry. The weather was usually unpredictable. Especially where this race was.

"Yn, over here!" Your boss yelled out from several metres away. You turned your body - spotting him with a headset on. You both wore Porsche race team suits - the kind the pits usually had. You jogged over to where he stood, not before noticing Yoongi had already left for the race.

You vaguely watched as he bowed slightly to someone before popping himself inside the car. His helmet was already on his head as his car began to steer to the starting line. You turned your head back to your boss - as you were handed a headset. You mumbled a quiet 'thank you' as you placed it on your head.

"Nervous about our new drivers' first race?" You spoke nonchalantly to your Wane. His eyebrow raised a proportion, as his lips pierced in thought. "I took him for a test drive last night - after the meeting. He wasn't too bad - you know. He's pretty good."

Wane smiled almost in accomplishment. You knew what you said had probably given him more confidence in Yoongi. Although, you hadn't actually seen him in a race. This was his first one. That slightly gave you some nerves as you were unsure of his skills on the course.

"That's fantastic to hear! I'm looking forward to seeing his race." Wane pressed the comms button on the control panel, activating the link to Yoongi and anyone connected on headsets. You included.

"Yoongi. How are you feeling? Fit inside the car alright?" You overheard Wane speaking to Yoongi through the headset. Your body shook slightly due to the chilled air around you, as you pushed some of your hair from your face. God, you hated this weather.

"Perfect, sir. I'm all good to go." His raspy voice echoed into your headset as a fragment of static cut his voice off slightly. "Is Yn here today?" Your face turned to Wane's as you scrunched up your face slightly.

Why was he asking for you?

You pressed on your microphone, pulling it down to your lips. "I'm here, Yoongi. Do well today, and I'll personally buy you a drink. Champagne is only for winners." Wane tilted your head as you spoke - smiling slightly at your answer to your new team driver.

You heard a slight chuckle bounce in your ears, making your body shiver in response; that or the temperature had just dropped around you. You took your jacket from the chair it lay on, pulling it around you. Instantly you felt much warmer than before. "I'll hold you to that, little racer." You almost forgot you could hear him for a second - as you rugged yourself closer to the jacket. You hummed slightly in response, before lifting your mic back up - switching yours to mute.

You watched the monitors in front of you as the race began to start. You anxiously nibbled on your bottom lip, watching as each race car sped up from the starting line. You noticed Yoongi's car alongside Jimin's McLaren - you really hoped he wasn't a dirty player.

But to your own unconsidered anxieties - he wasn't a dirty player. In fact, you watched as he cleanly overtook Jimin's position in 3rd place. You could only imagine the look on Jimin's face at the moment. He might even have competition now.

You hadn't realised last night, but you did now. Yoongi was more than a great driver, in fact, he was great. But that didn't mean anything until he won this race. You watched aimlessly as the racers did several laps, over the duration of a few hours.

Yoongi held his third place position for a solid third of the race. It was when the final lap had come up - was when things changed. You noticed his tires looked overused - this made you anxious about his race.

"Yoongi. Can you hear me?" You spoke, after pulling down your comms to him. You really hoped the tires could withstand the last lap, but they looked to be in poor condition. If he couldn’t pit stop - there was a chance these tires would give way and ruin his chance at securing a spot on the podium.

"Yoongi get to the pit and change those tires - you're not gonna make it." You repeated in his ear. You heard Yoongi speaking from the other side of the comms - as you heard a slight roar from his engine.

"Can't do that, it's the last lap - I need to make this worth it."

"Yoongi, you won't make it. Those tires are done for." You pushed, locking eyes with his car, on the monitors in front of you. You watched intensely as they all neared the finish line. Your heart raced as they came up to the final kilometres, and you stressed slightly as Yoongi hadn't responded to your last comment.

You gripped your clipboard and jacket as Yoongi pushed his car - the last four-hundred metres approaching. His car slowly began smoking, and that's when you stressed he'll flatline and lose his place in the race.

Three-Hundred.. His car smoked worse.

Two-Hundred.. You gripped the clipboard tighter. His car slowed slightly.

One-Hundred.. You inhaled sharply, leaning closer to the monitor. "Yoongi.." You murmured, nibbling your lower lip in suspense. You noticed a fragment of flames which caused your heart to stop - you thought you might collapse at the anxiety of this finale.

You watched intensely as Yoongi's car zoomed past the end of the finish line in third place, meaning he would stand that podium.. Meaning you owed him a drink. You exhaled as he began slowing his car down. However, luck wasn’t bestowed upon the third place driver too much as you noticed his car engine stutter - coughing a black smog of gas.

"Oh my God. Yoongi your -" Your mic cut out as the car halted swiftly - you guessed he pulled the break - however you watched at the front of the car erupted in flames. You gasped - shaking as you watched emergency vehicles rush to the scene, safety cars, etc. It was all happening too soon.

You forgot your headset, as you ripped it from your head. You turned from your position near the pits - running towards the race course. You dropped your clipboard on the pit's floor, ignoring the yells from the pit for you to come back.

After a few minutes, you made it to where the safety crew, medics and rest of the fire-fighters were. There were people crowding - mainly the ones getting the fire out. You gasped as you watched Yoongi hopping out of the vehicle - a stuttering swing as he ripped his helmet off his head.

His face, drenched in sweat - he wobbled as he coughed from the smoke. You gasped as you saw his outfit, stained in black from the car's heat, the flames, where he had almost been burnt. Had it not been for his protective gear - God knows what would have happened.

You rushed over to him - alongside the medics, who brought medical gear. "Yoongi!" You quavered slightly, as his eyes met your own. You rushed to his aid, grabbing hold of him. "You idiot! Look what happened, look what almost happened to you."

Yoongi's infamous lazy smirk etched along his slightly dirty face as your hand took his arm - pulling it over your shoulder. "But it didn't.. and I won a spot on the podium.." He whispered in your ear, causing a shiver to fold down your back. Not the time, place or moment to be having this feeling.

You inched your head away from him when you felt his nose brushed your cheek. You began walking forwards, away from the ruined Porsche - towards the medic bay. He needed to be treated - for smoke inhalation, anything, he needed to be checked up.

"Yoongi, this is serious. You could have gotten seriously injured." You yelped, as his hand gripped your hand. You turned to face him as you wobbled the both of you closer to the med bay. "What then?"

Yoongi coughed as he exhaled a breathy laugh. "You worried about me, little racer?" He leaned closer, causing you to flinch slightly from the proximity. His dark brown eyes glazed into your own - kicking a feeling into your stomach. "Don't worry. You still owe me a drink."

You huffed, as he continued to tease your reaction. Yoongi inhaled sharply as you released him, lying on the medical stretcher - immediately surrounded by paramedics. You exhaled in relief as you propped yourself on a seat next to him. You thanked the medic who kindly offered you water - perhaps it was the deep breathing that made them think you were parched. In reality, you were freaking out slightly.

You warned him. He didn't listen. Now look at him. What an idiot. You watched as he pushed himself up slightly from the stretcher - eyeing his movements. "Better not take back anything you said about buying me a drink - it's the only thing I'm looking forward to."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. "What makes you think you deserve it now?" You then unscrewed the bottle cap on your water - taking a few sips from it before putting its lid back on.

The medics continued to check his medical stat's, blood pressure and oxygen levels as he spoke to you. You wished for a moment for him to go to sleep. He was so… agitating. "Ooh, going back on promises - doesn't that leave you with a bad reputation, little racer." He cooed from the inside of his oxygen mask, shaking his index finger from side to side - almost tauntingly.

You tutted, running your hands through your hair; you shook it, before pulling your hair up with a hair tie. You couldn't understand him. "I think all that smoke inhalation is getting to you. Now shut up before I injure you." You stood up, as you felt your phone ring from your back pocket.

You looked at Yoongi once more before leaving him for the medics to deal with.

His first race and he's already trying to dismantle his car. You wondered just how much stubbornness and determination he had - it seemed as if whatever he wanted he got. You hoped he wouldn't continue to behave that reckless on the race circuit in his upcoming races; it would do him no good if he hurt himself.

Like you said to him before. You've seen drivers come and go - you never know your last ride.

You’re so quiet, not even sounding like the minx you were mere seconds ago. “C’mon, baby,” Jungkook encourages, wanting to hear you loud and clear for him.

You want him. You want everything all at once.

You still can’t erase the memories of him racing half an hour ago. How his skillful hand gripped the wheel, how his thighs flexed as he controlled the gas pedal or how he kept his jaw clenched and eyes focused on the foggy road with a stern yet soft, ‘hold on tight’ when he sped up before drifting for the hundredth time.

The ‘whoo-hoo’s and applause from both of your racer friends and their partners was a bonus — and him winning first place made you want him to do every sinful thing to you.

You want Jungkook so bad all over your skin. Want him to kiss you, want him to bite on your skin, bruise you with weeks-lasting love bites. You can’t just fathom the need that’s circulating through your blood.

A soft squeeze on your ankle makes your thoughts focus on Jungkook again, who is staring at you with need and desire. “Speak up, baby. Need to know what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours,” he taunts.

“You’ll do what I want?” Your voice is barely audible for you, airy with lust. You’re feeling the wetness of your own cunt between your thighs and you’re one-hundred percent sure Jungkook can spot the dark spot on your panties beneath your skirt.

Jungkook just gives you an eager nod.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he whispers while leaning to give you a soft but calculated peck on your lips. “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.” He sounds so confident, smirking against your lips when your breathy whimper surfaces out.

Jungkook always likes being on top. He makes weird excuses saying he wants to see how pretty you are when you break under him. He’s just whipped to see you in pleasure, fighting to fill your lungs with air and crying when you cum.

“Wa-want you to touch me.” You don’t like how your voice cracks, making Jungkook’s stupid smirk grow more. You’re so pathetic when you’re horny.

You hate it. He loves it.

“Touch you where?” he asks, coaxing his head a little. Oh, so, he’s teasing?

“Jeon, please.” You blink, your throat drying up without even getting started. “Need you s’much, I want to feel you!” Your voice raises to a higher pitch.

Jungkook thinks you’re very lucky he is way too needy or it’s would have ended up making you cry just by torturing and teasing. So, Jungkook pushes your legs further apart, making himself much more comfortable.

“Gonna start all the way from here.” He presses his finger against your covered clit, adding pressure. Your legs twitch, almost closing but his body stills you. “How about that?”

You just give him a weak nod, too overwhelmed from the sudden touch against your sensitive spot.

Jungkook starts to slide up and down your clothed pussy, making your panties grind against your folds, his index finger now coated with your arousal. “Words, pretty girl.”

You mewl when he adds even more pressure.

“Yes, please,” you moan, head falling back against your pillow.

Jungkook swallows the urge to just undress you and fuck you sensless. He needs to get you ready so he won’t hurt you. But mostly, he wants to taste you first. And so, your boyfriend removes his jacket from his body and tosses it somewhere across the room.

Latching his fingers from your sex, making you cry and annoyed with the sudden disappearance of his touch and your pleasure. “This needs to go.” He runs his fingers to your hips before he tugs your panties and skirt down to your ankle, chuckling when you quickly push them off, before tossing them aside by yourself.

“Easy, baby. I’m not going anywhere without making you cum,” he states, getting back to where he left you.

This time he doesn’t tease you, he just keeps your gaze locked with his as he settles himself between your legs on his stomach and drapes your left leg on his shoulder. He pushes your other leg further before pinning it with his strong grip.

You take a deep breath, ready to be blown to the sky and see the stars he wants you to. He starts kissing your inner thigh, his eyes still locked with yours.

“Jeon,” you threaten, wanting him to stop his silly games and finally go down on you. But your boyfriend just giggles, eyes squinting and brow piercing twitching.

“But it’s so fun to see you like this,” he persists, making your chest tighten with impatience.

“I swear, Jun— aah!” Your threat is short-lived when Jungkook wraps his lips around your pearl, making you jolt forward and almost sit up.

Starting off gently, his wet muscle just presses against your clit, not moving but just letting his saliva smear and trail its way to your pussy.

“Hmm, move.” You don’t understand why he won’t listen to you. He asked what you wanted and now that you’ve told him, he decides to pull this stunt?

Jungkook just watches you with a knitted brows, his jaw tensing from the position he’s set now. He decides it’s enough and starts to move his tongue in an ‘eight’ motion. You spread your thighs wider, silently begging for him to give you the pleasure you want.

He leans back, admiring how your slit leaks. You prop up by your elbows and your cheeks start to heat up when Jungkook just stares at your sex.

“No,” he says when you start to close your legs, feeling shy all over again. “Keep ‘em open.” He brings his index and middle to your folds before parting them, exposing your cunt to him.

“You’re staring weird!” You try to defend, attempting to swing your legs off his shoulders but he’s fast enough to roughly pull you back by your ankle and pin the other back.

“No. I'm admiring what’s mine.”

His words reach your ears and it makes you mentally roll your eyes. You want to play who-said-so but you also don’t want to end up being left without a blinding orgasm pending.

“Kook, please, that’s enoug–” You can’t even finish your words again when he’s back at your leaking sex. Rougher, more eager.

“Oh, God.” Your back arches, making Jungkook’s suction on your pussy disrupt which causes him to groan. You swear you can see the stars on the back of your eyelids now. He roughly pushes your body down by your pelvis and huffs a ‘stay still’ before grinding his nose into your sensitive folds.

Jungkook makes his way down to your slit, his tongue circling your tight hole. Your short but deep breath has his dick twitching under his leather pants, making the fabric even tighter than it is.

“Yes, yes! Yes, please, Kook.” Your gasping voice only makes it harder for him. His hand, the one that was pinning your leg to the bed, slides down to palm himself.

“Mhm.” He moans to your cunt and you cry out, your fingers tangled in your hair, trying to distract yourself from the sudden stimulation but it ends with you giving yourself even more pleasure.

He brings his hand from his pants right back to your sopping sex, fingers replacing what he couldn’t get in his mouth, sucking and fucking you both with his skillful mouth and finger.

This is extreme, everything becomes too much. More than what you can take. “Jungkook,” you sigh, throat drying up much more and only silent mewls leaving your lips.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, middle finger circling your entrance. “This all you wanted or still want more?” He’s so good with his words, it makes you cave.

You sound so brittle when you speak and Jungkook bites his lips to sustain the moan. “You’re gonna give up on me, baby?” he asks, making your nipple ache underneath your bra. “I haven’t fucked you probably yet and you’re gonna pass out?” It’s like he’s boo-ing you.

“N-no.” You try to catch your breath.

“No?”

“No.”

Jungkook grins, he’s gonna fuck you up.

Your eyes squeeze shut when he pushes to digits at once. “That’s it, yeaaah.” He places a kiss on your nub as a reward, and it is indeed a reward.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!” Your voice is sharp and thin when you cry, tears filling your waterline and rolling down your temples. “Kook!” you cry out when he’s knuckles deep like he’s searching for something that’s his.

“You can take it, they’re just my fingers.” You’re in the middle of losing your life and he says that. For fucks sake. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” Jungkook interjects and starts moving his fingers. He pulls them out to the tip of his fingers then pushes them back deep to the hilt.

“Shoulda brought the vibrator today,” he gruffly says and if it wasn’t for his fingers buried in you, you would have given him a sassy eye roll. “Wish you could see your face, you’re so pretty.” He leans in again, giving your pussy a wet smooch so loud that it fills the room with a wet kissing sound.

Nothing like this was planned today but now look at you, under him, withering away.

Your hands shake as you try to find anything to hold on to that could help you brace yourself from the orgasm that’s approaching you. “Jung— Jungko…?!” You’re wailing at this point, crying and yelling at the same time.

Jungkook’s nose flares as his hand picks up its pace, making a ‘come here’ motion that has you on edge. “You’re gonna cum,” he tells you as if it’s not obvious, helping you by securing your shaking hand and bringing it to his hair. “Hold on to me.”

He’s going to fucking kill you.

“I’m gonna… I’m gon— hgnh!” you grunt, eyes screwed shut and pulling on Jungkook’s locks. “I’m here, hold on to me.” If it wasn’t for your own boyfriend cradling your legs and restraining them, you would’ve kicked him in his face and bruised him badly.

Your lungs tighten once again and stars explode behind your closed eyelids as your orgasm washes over you.

The worst part is — Jungkook hasn't pulled his fingers out yet. “No, please, Jungkook, it's too much!” You try to sit up, hands leaving his hair and wrapping around his wrist.

“Jungkook, I just came, it’s too much. I can’t.”

But your whines fall upon deaf ears.

“One more.” He is determined to pull one more out of you but you just shake your head. “Please, baby, one more and then I’ll stop.”

You moan when he repeatedly curls his fingers in your pussy and something inexplicable in you bubbles this time. Nothing like before.

“Stop, wait…” Your sweaty fingers on Jungkook’s wrist try to remove his hand from your aching cunt but he just shoves your hand away from him. And that reminds you how you almost forget that he is much stronger than you.

“Stop pushing me away,” he grunts this time, finger fucking you tougher than he ever has. You’re practically shaking whole. “You asked for it, so take it—”

You can’t make out what he says after that, your ears ringing louder and eyes blinded by the orgasm that hits you.

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook moans, keeping his hand buried inside you, slowing his pace when you cum. You’re not aware of anything until he pulls them out of you.

“Didn’t know you could do that.” He ogles at his shining fingers, your arousal drenching his fingers down to his knuckle and making a mini pool in his palm.

It takes you a hot solid minute for your eyes to clear, tears subsiding and now hearing what’s around you neat. You prop on your elbows and watch his doe eyes stare at his fingers then back at you before chuckling, truly amazed.

“You squirted all over me, baby.” You can’t help but give him a broken smile. “And I did that,” he adds, proud that he caused this mess.

“Looks like a fucking champagne confetti.” With your silence taking over again and your whole face and chest burning, your boyfriend shows you his hand as if you don’t believe him. “You don’t believe me? Look.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks warming up once again. “Kook, stop!” you whine and his laugh echoes through your bedroom wall.

Right after you both subside from your laughs, you watch Jungkook bring your skirt from the floor and wipe the mess you made — your slick nectar all over his nose to his chin. Even on the ends of his dark bangs, causing a few strands to stick to his forehead.

Once he’s down, your boyfriend lifts himself up and you can’t help but notice the bulge under his leather pants. You start to shift your spot from the bed but stop when you hear him ask, “What’re you doing?”

You don’t speak much, glancing down to the tent below his pelvis. “It’s fine, you should rest.” He smiles, leaning and touching your cheek stained with dried up tears.

“But—”

Jungkook just shakes his head. “It’s fine, princess, I’ll go take a shower and deal with it.”

You frown, get up from the bed and rise to your feet before you wiggle yourself out of your top. You catch Jungkook staring at you shamelessly.

“You know, I’m so lucky to have you.” He starts to pull his cum-drenched shirt from his body. “You’re so fucking pretty and sexy, it’s crazy.” Jungkook admits he just fell in love all over again when he sees you like this — bare and naked in front of him.

“Let’s go shower.” You stick your hand out for him to take and he happily intertwines his fingers with yours before tugging you into the bathroom, you giggling like an idiot and Jungkook grinning like a moron.

And well, let’s just say, the night didn’t end like that, with a simple shower, but an intense fuck session under the shower’s faucet.

But you were too emotionally drained from all the studying, and the last thing you needed was a social gathering you knew would only suck you out of your energy even more.

You’ve been so exhausted lately— your lectures have turned difficult, and your time has lately been consumed by either studying or your classes.

And so, you’re alone on a Friday night inside your shared apartment, watching some trashy TV romance while eating microwave popcorn and wearing your Spongebob Squarepants knee-socks.

Imagine your surprise once you hear the doorbell ring when you’re not expecting anyone tonight—your best friend is at that damn frat party, you didn’t order takeout just yet, and it’s not like you have a lot of intimate friends other than Yuri.

You reluctantly open the door, silently hoping no serial killer would be on the other side, but no, it’s even worse.

“Yoongi?” You ask, almost gasping, but you’re too tired for your body to show any signs of strong emotions when meeting the man you secretly longed to see.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks, and you’re almost sure you pick up something of concern in his smooth voice, but you know it’s only your hallucination. You know for a fact that Yoongi doesn’t care for his hookups, or in other words, you.

You first met him during a party, and you were enamoured by his captivating brown eyes the minute they met yours.

You had heard about him before. The notorious fuckboy slash basketball captain that caught many hearts in his hands and squeezed them to death.

You promised yourself you would never acquaint yourself with him. The stories you heard, makes him out to be the worst monster of them all inside your head, with ugly green eyes that were ready to eat anyone who had a pussy.

And who ate women’s hearts until there was nothing red left.

But who knew such a monster could be so incredibly beautiful in ways you had never dreamed of?

But maybe that’s why he was such a nightmare; why he had such ease in luring prey into his deadly trap.

You got tipsy from the beers that were passed around to your hands by your best friend, and you went from making many eye contacts with a certain basketball player to him fucking you hard on the back of his car, while your best friend, Yuri explored the whole house in search for the black-haired boy you were under.

At the time, you didn’t understand how his eyes fell on you instead of on your best friend, who was much prettier than you and looked at him through the rose-coloured glasses you would only months later after that night.

However, you now get why his eyes fell on you.

You had a ‘good girl’ image and anyone that laid their eyes on you could sense a sort of naiveness that Yoongi craved.

He lived for it.

And you were just another one of his prey. A piece of meat he would then soon discard after he sucked every last bit of the blood inside your system.

You swore to yourself you wouldn’t be like them. That you wouldn’t fall for his deadly charm like other girls did. You thought you were different from them, until a few months later, when you were grabbing some take-out after a heavy secret make-out session in his car.

When he flashed you his beautiful gummy smile. Your world stopped and everything came crashing down when you realised you were in love with the devil, that is Min Yoongi, and he caught your heart with his deadly hands just like other girls.

Knowing you are in love with another human is supposed to be euphoric, the poets say.

The sonnets describe how swelled up in sheer giddiness you must be from experiencing such a powerful, deep emotion for your significant other.

And you knew you were doomed because when you realised your heart only beats for Yoongi, it only made you hurt in ways that left you crying for days. So much so, that time became nonexistent and days bled into another as you grieved for the loss of your own heart that you stupidly let him take away from you.

You weren’t different from the others—you weren’t the one special enough to change Min Yoongi’s heart. To make him love you.

And you only push the dagger an inch more into your bleeding heart every time you continue to sleep with him, knowing you will never get his heart to heal you in ways you so desire.

No one knows of your affair, and you were the one who wanted to keep it that way. If anybody knew, you would be cast away in other people’s as nothing more than another one of Yoongi’s many hookups, and even worse, if your best friend found out she would have your head.

Yuri was always a jealous woman—the men she hooked up with, which was a very good amount, she got angry with the woman they would kiss a week later, and would always make their lives a living hell in the most subtle of ways.

And the ones whom Min Yoongi hooked up with were the ones that had it the worst.

“What are you doing here, Yoongi?” You put your mouth before your lips, yawning while talking, eyes blood-red from the exhaustion you feel.

Your sleepy eyes follow his frame up and down, and you can see he isn’t in his usual ‘asshole’ attire, as you would joke with Yuri—instead, he wears grey sweats and a simple, plain white tee shirt. You could even mistake him for a good guy if you didn’t already know the malicious intentions behind the fiery brown eyes you’ve regretfully grown to find beautiful.

But what catches your attention is the jewellery that stayed intact—two thin silver chains around his neck (he usually wears more extravagant ones), bracelets on his pulse, and his signature rings on his fingers.

If you hadn’t looked down to rapidly inspect his veiny, ring-filled fingers, you wouldn't be able to find one specific piece of jewellery that makes your lungs almost break and your breath to be taken away.

It’s the ring you gave him for his birthday a few months ago.

“What’s this?” Yoongi furrows his eyebrows as he slowly takes the small box out of the small plastic bag, and you feel your palms sweating from the anticipation and nervousness that swallows you whole.

“Um. Just something for your, uh, birthday.” You clear your throat, and Yoongi lifts his head to arch one of his eyebrows.

“My birthday was a week ago.”

You roll your eyes, “I know that, dickhead. Did you know I had to find out from Yuri, who heard from Mina, who had to hear after fucking Jungkook—“

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Yoongi chuckles, and you let out a heavy sigh as you watch him inspect the little plastic black box on his fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You cross your arms, and Yoongi chuckles. He can almost hear your pout while he slowly opens the box and places the lid on his lap.

“Didn’t think you’d care.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, and you scoff silently—could he be even more dense?

“Of course, I would care, idiot. I have to give a present to the man who’s made me come so many times. It’s the least I could do.” You scoff, and Yoongi laughs loudly.

It’s a laugh you don’t usually hear from Yoongi’s pretty lips. He usually only chuckles with you, never showing the smile you so adore, and now your heart flutters and your stomach turns at the sensation that overwhelms your chest when you watch such a rare scene in front of you.

He isn’t chuckling or smirking. But laughing. At something you said.

You couldn’t think your heart could fall even deeper into the depths of your doom, yet one smile from his cherry lips already has you even deeper than before.

You’re entering a rabbit’s hole by letting yourself stupidly fall for Min Yoongi, and at this point in time, you don’t know how or even if you can get out.

You clear your throat, your heart beating fast as you watch Yoongi observe the present.

It’s a ring, one you found in a cheap jewellery store that is beside the little coffee shop you work for, and you immediately thought of Yoongi when you saw it. You know he likes his jewellery and this one was much cheaper than the ones he usually buys.

You’re nervous, your erratic heartbeat pulsating in your ear as you wait for his reaction. Will he hate it? Will he discard it as soon as he—

“Shit. I love it.” Yoongi chuckles, putting the ring on one of his only free fingers, the middle finger. “Thanks, doll. I appreciate it.”

You can’t help the warmth inside your heart at his words, relief washing down all the previous anxiety on your nerves.

“Want a birthday blowjob, too?”

“Oh, hell yeah.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to answer you, but you cut him off, rubbing your sleepy eyes while trying to keep your mouth from yawning once again, “If you came here for sex, I really can’t do it tonight; I’m busy—”

“Studying?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows, and you sigh, nodding your head while groaning, “Well, you always say that, and next thing you’re begging me to make you cum.”

You cringe at his lewd words, “What the fuck, can you not say things like that? Pervert.” You roll your eyes, and Yoongi laughs, throwing the smile that never fails to make your stomach turn and your heart flutter in ways you only experience with him.

“And no, I’m not studying this time. I’m just watching some TV before going to sleep.” You grumble, and Yoongi fake gasps, dramatically opening his mouth to drag out the gasp more than it needs to, and you playfully roll your eyes.

“Oh, is Miss goody-two-shoes actually having time for herself, hm?” Yoongi teases, a small smile tugging on his lips, and you try to fight the butterflies that flap in your stomach with a small scoff.

You shouldn’t be feeling this.

You know Yoongi only sees you as another one of his hook-ups, one he doesn’t care for, only only when you have what he needs, when he needs it.

Your brain knows that, but your heart chooses to ignore it when it hopelessly flutters for him every time he kisses you as if you were his, and sinks to your stomach every time he leaves you that same night.

You’ve made many mistakes in your life, but falling for Min Yoongi must be the worst of them all.

Your everything sings for him, for the three words out of his lips, but his heart would never hear your melodies as you wish so much. And every day that passes a piece of you is taken away, a reminder of your fatal mistake that is loving a man that only sees you as meat and is blind for your soul that calls for his.

You should have never let your heart become such an open book, filled with unspoken words of affection for him, a man who never had the desire to open you, to read you in ways you so ached for.

And you still lie here, sinking in a sea of hurt, choking on your blood every time you accept Yoongi into your heart for the sake of having him beside you, for having the pleasure of touching him. Even if the fog of lust blinds his eyes and you can only wish for him to see you as clearly as you see him.

“I’m just too tired to study.” You yawn, and Yoongi leans in, barging inside your territory and into the uncharted waters of your hopeless heart—even if he doesn’t know it.

“Y’know what would make you relax?” One of his brows goes up, and he bites his pink lips, lust fogging his eyes in the way you already know.

He’s the diesel that ignites an unwanted fire in your heart, and he’s the only hazard that can make you hot with desire in mere seconds.

You put your index finger on his chest and push him away from you, and he only chuckles, amused by your response. “Nope. Not today, Min.”

“Alright.” Yoongi pouts slightly, putting his hands in his pockets—how can this man be so hot yet cute? He’s messing with your head, and you don’t like it one bit. “Can I at least come in to watch some Netflix? Or whatever you were watching.”

“Why the hell should I let you in?” You raise one eyebrow, challenging him, and Yoongi hums.

“Good question. Well, I’m fucking bored. I have nothing to do tonight.”

“That’s bullshit.” You scoff, and Yoongi furrows his eyebrows, “There’s a party at one of your friend’s frat parties. You could easily just go there.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“The fuck? What happened to you?” You snort, and Yoongi sighs.

Yoongi was always at a party on or off campus. It was where he sought his next prey, one that looked innocent enough to fall for his charms. And, unfortunately, you were one of them.

“I told you, I’m not in the mood, doll.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I just wanna watch something to cure my boredom, and I saw you were online. But if you want me to go, I will.”

“And the first thought was to come here and annoy me?” You click your tongue, and when Yoongi playfully pouts again, your heart gives out like the weak woman you are. “Fine, okay. But no funny business, k?”

“Pinky promise.” Yoongi raises his pinky, and you scrunch your eyebrows, looking at his hand with uncertainty before you wrap your pinky around his.

“Alright, get in.”

It’s a mistake, you know it, the universe knows it—but your body can’t help but jump at any opportunity that opens where you have him for yourself. Where you’re alone with him, without the rest of the world yelling at you just how hurt you will be, just how wrong it is to have feelings Yoongi.

“Holy fuck. Are those Spongebob knee-socks?” Yoongi laughs, and heat covers your chest in embarrassment.

Oh fuck.

You forgot about those.

“They are very comfortable, okay? Shut up. You can go away if you’re just gonna annoy me like that.”

“Sorry, doll. They’re cute. Very you style.”

You pause at that, “Me style? What the hell does that mean?”

Yoongi shrugs, “They’re just very you. Dunno how to explain it.”

You give him a suspicious look before whispering a small ‘okay’, ignoring the butterflies that fly around the flowers that bloom inside your heart, and you can only hope they won’t be poison to your soul.

He follows you to the sofa after you lock your door, and once he sees what is on your TV, he can’t help but let out a little laugh.

“You’re watching the notebook?”

“Don’t you dare shame me. This movie is a fucking masterpiece.” You huff as you sit on the corner of the couch, and Yoongi chuckles, sitting on the other side, and you’re grateful for the distance between your bodies.

You wouldn’t even want to know how your night would end if he had sitten next to you.

“You got lucky. I literally just started watching it.”

The movie plays, and two hours go by like nothing as you engross yourself with the movie. You couldn’t help yourself to catch glimpses of Yoongi as you both watched the film, your eyes scanning every inch of his beautiful face, your heart screaming for his body to get closer to yours, for you to feel his warmth as if he were yours.

You were completely, utterly mesmerized by the beautiful features that adorn his face. His eyes, twin embers that completely take hold of your being, stop the breath of your lungs, and you can’t function.

You begin to wonder, entering the deadly waters that are to imagine—what would it be like if he were yours?

You yearn to speak, to unveil your heart and get rid of this burden that is carrying this love in silence.

Yet your words falter, and you can’t seem to find your voice in his presence.

How could you tell your heart beats for him when all he will do is slip through your hands when the words come out of your mouth?

You need more time with him until you have the courage to let him go.

The film finishes and you can sense your eyes and throat stinging from the last scene. Fuck, why did you choose such an emotional film?

“Doll, are you crying?” Yoongi teases with a chuckle, and you grab a pillow, throwing it on his face with all the force you have in your arms.

“Shut the f-fuck up.” You sniffle, and Yoongi continues laughing.

“Asshole.” You scoff, and Yoongi continues to giggle for a little while before you feel a sudden presence beside you. Arms wrap around your crying frame, and your head falls to a chest. His chest.

“I had no idea you were so emotional,” Yoongi chuckles, and you cry even more when you feel slow taps on your head.

The film is long forgotten inside your head, and silent tears fall to your cheeks as your heart pleads for this to be real, for this to last forever, for time to stop and for you to stay here, with him, just like this.

As if he were yours.

As if you were together.

“God,” You sniffle while rubbing your runny nose, “This is embarrassing. Ugh.”

“Nah, it’s not. It would be worse if you were an ugly crier.” Yoongi laughs lightly, and you smack his chest while letting out a small chuckle.

“I can’t believe you’re not crying.” Yoongi continues to pat your head, and you can’t help but feel this is oddly domestic. It feels natural, so right that your heart can’t help but ease into the fog of hope that everything will be okay.

It’s dangerous, to forget about the pain in your heart, and maybe you will pay the price later.

“I don’t cry, doll.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, you’re the cold fuckboy without feelings and all that.”

Yoongi snorts, “Yeah.”

“Y’know, crying doesn’t make you weak. Just saying. It can actually make you much more relieved. It’s therapeutic.”

Yoongi hums, “I just haven’t felt like crying in a long time.”

You should let go already.

Staying like this, under his arms when you’re so vulnerable is dangerous. But no sense of danger would ever compare to the feeling of letting yourself go, of falling without the fear of reaching the ground.

“What’s your favourite fruit?”

You furrow your eyebrows and almost laugh at the question, “What?”

“I asked what your favourite fruit is.”

“Uh, I heard it. Why? That’s so random, dude.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, “I’m not good at dealing with people crying. I’m trying my best here, damn.”

You chuckle, “Aw, that’s cute of you.”

“Shut up and answer the damn question.”

“Jeez okay,” you snort at his defensiveness—maybe you should call him cute more often. “Hm, I’d say apples.”

“Ew.” Yoongi scrunches his face, “Tangerines are so much better.”

“I’m guessing that’s your favourite fruit?” Your lips tug into a small smile while you feel your small tears dry up.

“Fuck yeah, they’re the best thing in this world.”

“They taste disgusting.” You make a small gag sound, and Yoongi scoffs at your words. “Makes sense why you like them.”

“Are you calling me disgusting?” Yoongi stops patting your head, and you can’t help the smirk on your lips.

Teasing and getting on Yoongi’s nerves is your favourite pastime—he falls right into your trap, and you absolutely love it. Who would have thought a man with a reputation such as his could be so easy to lure onto your trap?

“Mmm, maybe.”

You finally have the courage to take your head off his chest, and when your eyes catch him, you feel the world stop. Time is nothing and the universe is only inside his eyes.

“Mm, I’m not so disgusting when you let me fuck you, now am I, doll?” Yoongi chuckles, and you bite your lip, your eyes never leaving his.

“You have a good dick, what can I say?” You shrug, trying hard to contain your smile when his tongue presses on his cheek.

“Fuck, doll. Can I kiss you?” Yoongi whispers, placing his hand on your cheeks.

Your heartbeat picks up its pace.

“You pinky promised no funny business, Yoongi.” You whisper back, eyes falling to his luscious mouth.

“But this isn’t anything funny,” Yoongi smirks lazily and you scoff.

“Fuck you.” Your hand grabs his black t-shirt, and his addicting lips are on yours in mere seconds.

Fuck you for making me feel this way. Fuck you for distracting me. Fuck you for letting me fall in love with you.

The kiss is hard, lust-filled and so passionate, you could even mistake it for two lovers who haven’t seen each other in so many years.

You’re so caught up in your lust-drunken haze, you don’t know how you’re straddling his lap, with lips devouring the skin of your neck, claiming what Yoongi doesn’t know is already, completely, secretly his.

“Fuck, you have no idea—“ Yoongi groans, and feel his veiny hands travelling down past your shorts, and all you can think of is the heavenly feeling of his fingers tracing your skin as he kisses you with all the fire in the world. “How much I missed all of this.”

Shivers run through your spine, and you throw your head back when you feel his index finger slowly rubbing your sensitive nub.

“What’s your safe word, hm?” Yoongi asks between wet kisses on your collarbone, and you mutter a small ‘purple’, a small smirk on his lips as he kisses all the way back to your neglected mouth.

“Good girl,” He whispers to your ear, and you let out a little yelp when he lightly slaps your clit, “Let’s go to your bedroom, hm?”

“I’m way too lazy for that.” You whisper through wet kisses, and Yoongi chuckles, one of his ring-filled hands finding your butt and squeezing it.

You gasp slightly, and Yoongi bites his tongue, a cocky smirk tugging on his lips, “Love this fuckin’ ass. Did you miss me, baby?”

“Nah, not really. Had my showerhead to keep me company.” You tease, and Yoongi bites his lip before kissing you so fiercely, your breath suddenly goes away.

“You’re such a bad liar, doll,” Yoongi whispers on your lips, and your heart surrenders once more.

You told yourself you wouldn’t fall for his charm again, that you would fight the desire that took hold of your body whenever you saw him.

And now, all you need is to be taken care of by the hands you so long for. Have yourself forget the pain that sinks your heart to the depths of the seas of unrequited love, even if just for one night.

One last night, you tell yourself.

Those words are almost a ritual in your mind now whenever you and Yoongi sleep together, always promising that it will be the last night you end up fucking, that you will move on and grab the heart from his hands that is rightfully yours.

Yoongi suddenly gets up and you immediately wrap your legs around his small waist.

You’re thrown on your mattress once you’re inside your small bedroom, and before you could even groan from the contact with your back, Yoongi’s red lips catch yours in a rough, demanding kiss.

You’re about to take off your knee socks, but Yoongi gently grabs your arm, restricting any more movement.

“Keep ‘em.”

“You sure?”

“I told you. They’re cute.” Yoongi smirks at your flushed reaction, and you clear your throat before whispering a small ‘okay’ and shifting to your previous position.

His hand is under your shorts once more, and you gasp once you feel two fingers taking a stripe of your slit, “Pussy is so fucking wet already, and you still had the audacity to say you didn’t miss me.”

“I did—didn’t.”

“Fucking liar.” Yoongi brings his hand to his red lips, sucking on them at a slow pace while never taking his brown eyes off yours. You can’t take the throb on your clit, so you rub your thighs together, but Yoongi pulls them apart once again.

“Lemme see this pussy.” He spreads your legs, and you gasp at how far apart they are, at how your pussy is on display just for him.

Yoongi licks his lip, as if a predator staring at his meal after starving for so long, “Wanna eat you out. Can I?”

“Fuck yes.” You moan, biting your lip, and Yoongi places a small slap on your clit.

You gasp, and Yoongi smiles smugly.

“Where’s the magic word, doll?”

You almost roll your eyes, but you are too fucking horny to take any more punishment and teasing from him.

“Please. Please eat me out, Yoongi.”

Yoongi lowers his head to your sex slowly, “Now that’s my good girl.”

Fuck. You could have folded right there.

“Can I take your shirt off first? Wanna see those tits,” Yoongi’s hand gropes at one of your breasts, and once you nod your head, he wastes no time in taking your top off and throwing it to the other side of your room.

Yoongi is quick to take one of your tits into his eager mouth, sucking harshly and letting his tongue flicker on your nipple. His other hand grabs your other breast, beginning to harshly knead it and squeeze it under his palm.

All you can do is whimper under his desperate touches, your body squirming in the sheer pleasure of having his touch on your sensitive nipples.

Yoongi takes his mouth out of your breast with a lewd pop, his hungry eyes looking deeply into yours as he whispers, “Always so sensitive for me.”

You bite your lips as he trails kisses down your skin, his tongue feeling up your skin, until he finally stops when he richest the end of your stomach. You inhale sharply, and Yoongi smirks before parting your legs as far as you can and taking a big stripe of your wet pussy.

You immediately shudder, a small moan slipping your slips, “Yoongi.”

Yoongi whispers a small “My good girl,” and you feel your stomach turning from the overwhelming butterflies that rapidly flutter their wings inside it.

Yoongi suddenly spits on your cunt, his saliva dripping on your pussy lips and onto your thighs. His tongue kitten licks all of your wetness, leaving you aching for more.

You know he’s only doing this to tease you, to break you, and if you weren’t so desperate for him, maybe you would have resisted longer.

“Stop f-fucking teasing.” You growl and grab a large piece of his black hair with your palm. Yoongi groans at the sharp pain, and you yelp once you feel a slap to your thighs.

“Patience, doll. You take what I give you, yeah?”

You clench your teeth and squint your eyes, only for you to break your character and moan once you feel his mouth suddenly sucking your throbbing clit.

“Oh—oh fuck.” You let out heavy breaths, your hand caressing Yoongi’s hair as your mind gets lost in the pleasure of Yoongi’s skilful tongue.

One thing you’ve learned about Yoongi is that he loves going down on you, no matter time or place. If you say you want him to eat you out, he’s doing it that fucking second and he won’t stop until you’re squirming helplessly under him.

Your whole pussy has never been exposed, and Yoongi thrusts his tongue into your hole while his fingers start to slowly run your swollen clit.

You can feel your orgasm coming, the stars are close and you’re ready to let go, but Yoongi suddenly pulls his tongue out, leaving you whimpering for his touch again.

“What—“

“Ass up, doll.” Yoongi is taken aback when you follow his instructions with no snarky remark, and you’re on all fours with your ass up like he asked.

His hands trace the curve of your ass, his pianist fingers kneading your skin as he watches you with fascination in his brown, eager eyes that are blinded by the almost suffocating lust for you.

“P-please—“

“Spread that pretty ass for me.” He orders with a sharp spank to your ass, which causes you to shut your eyes and bite your lip in pleasure.

You do what he asks and spread your legs, permitting him to see both your asshole and cunt clearly, and Yoongi bites his lips when he sees the wetness that stains your inner thighs. Yoongi takes off his sneakers and slowly gets in the bed, and you whine at the loss of his touch for such a long time.

You need him to fuel you with more of his addicting diesel.

“What’s got you so quiet, baby girl? Already too dumb to talk back, hm?” Yoongi chuckles, trailing your spine with his ring-filled fingers while calling you out for the lack of your usual brattiness and snarky remarks.

You groan in return as shivers course through your body. “F-Fuck you.”

“Ah, there she is,” Yoongi lets out a breathy chuckle, and you sigh on your pillow at his touch.

“C-Can you not be so rough today? I’m—I’m tired and I wanna get up tomorrow morning.”

If only he knew what kind of tired you really are.

Tired of having your heart stomped on every time you watch his indifferent eyes when he looks at you, tired of having a storm of emotions to a man who feels nothing but carnal desires for you.

Tired of painfully waiting for him to reach an endless deep sea of love instead of the shallow waters of lust whenever he looks at you.

Yoongi hums, trailing his wandering hand back to your butt and he places a small slap on one of your ass cheeks.

“You just wanna be my good girl tonight, then?” Yoongi almost coos at how cute you look when you slowly nod. “You mind if I play with your other hole a little, doll?”

You gasp at his question. No one you’ve ever slept with—which was not many people, anyway—had ever touched that part of your body, nor even came close to it. You never had the desire for it.

But being with Yoongi has made you discover and try many territories you never thought were possible, and how could you say no to him when he asks like that?

“Fuck. Okay. But go slow, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Yoongi places a small, almost tender kiss on your spine before whispering, “Will do, baby.”

You could get used to these kinds of kisses.

His thumb goes up from your core ever so slowly, tracing the pathway to your asshole with care, and you mewl, digging your head into your pillow when his thumb starts playing with your rim, shivers coursing through every bit of your most sensitive nerves.

“You’re such a slut, aren’t you, doll? Letting me play with your pretty asshole. My little whore.” You mewl at his degrading words.

Never did you think you would enjoy hearing such words from anyone, but he makes it sound so hot when it comes out of his sweet lips.

“Where’s the lube, doll?” Yoongi whispers in your ear, and you let out a trembled sigh.

“It’s in the bathroom.”

Yoongi snorts, “Why’s the lube on the bathroom?”

You chuckle, “My roommate got fucked in the ass there. I had to hear all the details about it.” You roll your eyes at the memory. You couldn’t sleep that day because of your roommate’s screams inside the bathroom beside you.

Yoongi chuckles before slightly slapping your ass, “Be right back.”

Within seconds he’s back to his place from before rubbing the lube on two of his fingers.

“Fuck, you don’t know how obseesed I am with this ass, doll.” You almost scream when he slowly pushes two of his lubed up fingers inside your asshole with no warning, and Yoongi bites his lip to not let out a small moan as he sees you helplessly squirm underneath him. “Everything okay?”

You answer with a nod, and Yoongi hums, continuing the slow assault of his fingers inside your hole. You gasp at the calculated circles around your rim, and you moan into your pillow, “Yoongi.”

Yoongi smirks at his name as a form of a moan in your mouth, “Yes?”

“N-need….” You whimper your words out, your pussy burning with the almost unbearable need of his veiny fingers inside your cunt. For the release he neglected you moments before, “Need your fingers.”

Yoongi chuckles, placing a wet slap on your ass which causes you to gasp and lean your body forward at the sudden contact. You can feel your pussy dripping for him, the wetness staining your thighs.

All pent-up need for him.

“Hm, where do you want ‘em, doll? Gotta be specific.” Yoongi bites his lip, his fingers slowly thrusting on your asshole, and your hand is quick to travel to your lower region.

You spread your pussy lips apart, and Yoongi watches your motions like a hawk, his cock throbbing at the beautiful image of your fingers on your cunt.

His imagination runs wild once he starts thinking how pretty you would look while touching yourself and thinking of nothing else but him. Coming while whispering his name.

Yoongi bites his lip.

“Want ‘em here.”

Yoongi chuckles, his fingers leaving your asshole, “Do it for me, baby. Show me how you touch yourself.”

“What—”

“Come on, aren’t you a big girl? Let me see you touch yourself.” Yoongi slowly creeps his hand up to one of your ass cheeks, and you shiver under his touch.

Min Yoongi is a hazard to your existence, so much so that you’re already crumbling apart by his mere touch to your skin, and you know you won’t last long tonight, not like any other one of your encounters.

Tonight is different, and you’re terrified that your masked out vulnerability might fade away once and for all.

“Yoongi—”

The name of his lips is cut short when you feel his free hand grab your hair harshly, a gasp leaving your mouth at the pain mixed with pleasure that makes your clit pulsate.

“Do it.” Yoongi’s teeth grit, using the deep, raspy voice he knows leaves you weak on the knees, and shivers run from your scalp down every nerve in your body.

You will always be weak in Min Yoongi’s presence, won’t you?

Your hand slowly traces the skin of your stomach, trying to tease the man behind you as much as you can, and you can feel the deadly smirk on his pretty red lips, his cock twitching under his grey sweats.

Your fingers go to your clit, massaging the nub carefully enough to make you gasp on the fabric of your pillow.

You think of the man behind you, of his veiny, ring-filled fingers inside you, of his cock deliciously thrusting inside your pussy, reaching your cervix in the way he knows makes you fall apart.

Just for him.

You mewl, unsatisfied with your own fingers tracing your slit, but no imagination could ever compare to the real thing you want.

You need Yoongi.

His fingers inside you, him touching you in any way possible.

The fight inside you is gone as you fully submit to him, as you ache for him and his touch.

Yoongi can see your dissatisfaction as you continue to rub your clit fast, whines of desperation fleeing your mouth as you try to please yourself but can’t.

“Yoongi,” You whimper, and Yoongi almost closes his eyes from the sheer pleasure that travels down his body. “Your f-fingers. Need your, ah, fingers.”

“Too dumb to do it yourself, hm?” You nod while whining, your mind trapped in too much of a haze to talk back, to prove you aren’t another one of his dumb, fucked-out hookups who’d do anything he asks for.

You are too drunk in the pleasure of having him for yourself.

Too vulnerable to slip out of your daze as easily as you usually do, and you know Yoongi is claiming his victory with a wide smirk as he watches you fall apart before him.

Watches how broken you finally are for him.

“Yoongi.” His name is the only thing that can leave your mouth instead of moans and helpless whimpers.

You are dumb for him, aren’t you?

“You’re a dumb little cockslut, can’t even touch yourself properly,” Yoongi’s laugh is mocking, and you gasp loudly once two of his fingers start rubbing your nub in his expert way, the one which makes your whole body shiver in pure ecstasy. “You wanted this, doll? You wanted my fingers fucking that slutty cunt open?”

“Fuck, yes! Yes, Y-Yoongi.” You helplessly moan as his fingers scissor your pussy lips open for him to enter them inside you.

“Shit, babe, you’re soaking for me. I can fucking hear it.” Yoongi groans, precum staining his sweatpants as his cock twitches at the gushy, lewd sounds of your wet pussy.

His hand sparing no mercy for your cunt as he fingers you hard and fast. Your body shudders in pleasure, your mouth lets out pornographic moans when his thumb rubs your clit, and you clench around his slender, veiny fingers—your orgasm is coming.

And Yoongi knows.

“Does baby girl want to cum?” Yoongi bites his lip and continues his assault on your cunt, thrusting fast in and out of you, the cold metal of his rings hitting your warm walls, and all you can do is nod as you arch your back for him, drunk on his touch, his fingers, and everything that is him.

You’re too fucked out to answer, your toes already curling and your mouth fully open as you ache for the words of confirmation from his lips, which he happily grants.

“Cum for me, doll. You can do it.” Yoongi grunts out, and your mouth creeps up in a fucked out smile your abdomen clenches as your orgasm finally hits you, and you soak Yoongi’s already wet fingers with your cum.

Your mind escapes into a haze as your body unconsciously trembles from the oversensitivity as Yoongi slips his fingers to pinch your clit, testing to see how far you can take it.

“S-Sensitive.” You moan on the pillow, and once Yoongi takes his hand from your pussy, relief washes through your body.

Yet, you still long for them again.

“On your back for me.”

For some miracle, you hear his words under the fog in your mind, and your weak, already fucked out body slowly turns around, but Yoongi is an impatient man and doesn’t waste time by grabbing your waist and flipping you around himself.

Your tired eyes watch as he sucks the wetness on his fingers, moaning while tasting your release and you clench your thighs at the beautifully erotic scene before you.

Yoongi’s lips are suddenly on your jaw, kissing you gently, and you don’t even notice it until his deep voice speaks up during his kisses, “What’s up with you today, ___? You don’t usually end up this fucked out from just my fingers.”

“Told you,” You whine, gasping for any air your restricted lungs can catch, “I’m tired.”

Yoongi silently wonders what got you this tired.

You were always driving yourself crazy for your studies, and he could never understand why you would do it, but you would never get this exhausted. To the point where you completely fell apart for him after only his fingers. It usually took you some time until he could finally break you into his little cockslut.

“Still want to continue?” His tongue tenderly licks your skin as his hand rubs your tummy, a habit he picked up a few weeks ago, doing it after every time you were getting over your high.

And every single time he did it, your chest would find it hard to breathe from the fluttering feeling that crept up on your stomach that eventually found its way into your heart.

“I could just jerk off and call it a night. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” You let out a deep exhale of your breath, and Yoongi nods, placing the faintest butterfly kisses on your neck.

“Whatever you want.”

Your lips curve up in a lop-sided smile, “Fuck me, Yoongi.”

“Oh fuck.”

Yoongi is quick to pull his body off of yours, quickly taking off his sweats, his rock-hard cock springing out of the fabric, hitting his stomach and shirt in the process, and shit, you could have orgasmed again at that mere scene.

The chains on his neck stay, sticking to his slightly sweaty skin, and you feel your pussy throb and almost burn with aches at the sight.

Yoongi throws the grey sweatpants to the floor beside you, and you both flinch at the loud sound that erupts once it hits the floor.

“Oh shit, I forgot my phone was in there.”

“How can you forget that?” You can’t help but let out a snort, and Yoongi lightly laughs with you, your heart missing palpitations, stuttering at the sight of his gummy smile and relaxed shoulders.

Yoongi shrugs, “Too horny to care.”

You both laugh slightly and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if things could stay like this.

No outside world, only two people enjoying their time together, and the absence of the pain that shreds your soul of loving a man who will never love you back.

The laughter dies out, and instead, you find yourself at the loss of words as you mindlessly stare at Yoongi’s pretty cock. It stands proud before you, the tip stained with pre-cum, and pulsating from the pain of his erection, desperate for any stimulation that might lead to his release.

Yoongi’s big and he knows it.

He’s big, longer than the average dick, and he was cocky about it. When you first hooked up, you had to make him stop so you could adjust to the amazing yet slightly painful stretch his long, girthy cock gave you.

“You love my fat cock, don’t you, doll?” Yoongi says through a smirk, pride swelling on his chest as he watches you drool for him, your eyes wide, filled with fascination.

“Mhm,” You nod rapidly, your curious eyes watching his hands wrap around the slit, fingers brushing the vein that pops out of the skin, teasing himself for your hungry eyes.

“Where are the condoms?” Yoongi grunts, more pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock and falling onto your sheets.

“Second drawer.” You point to your only bedside table, and Yoongi is quick to manoeuvre his body to open the drawer and get a condom from the small package.

Yoongi examines the condom and smirks, “You got a large one. Were you expecting this, doll?”

You immediately gulp, turning your head to the side to avoid his piercing gaze, “No.” You click your tongue, “Bought them, like, last week ‘cause my roommate used up everything.”

“Ah, I see.” Yoongi bites his lips. He can see through your lies. He can clearly see the small twitch on your lips twitch whenever you try to lie to him.

Yoongi opens the packet with his teeth, his eyes never leaving yours, and your clit throbs at his action.

He twists the tip and slowly puts the condom on while biting his lips, and you can swear that you’ve never seen something so fucking hot. Every movement has you entranced, and your heart flickers at the picturesque image of him above you.

The moon gracefully shines on his beautiful figure, his face shimmering under the soft light, like an angel that graces you, a mere mortal, with his ethereal presence.

Yoongi finally leans in and presses a slow, sensual kiss on your neck, “You ready?”

You almost moan out loud at his words, “Fuck yes. Please.”

Without any more words, Yoongi pushes inside you, and you moan at the delicious stretch his big cock gives you.

Yoongi grunts, squeezing the pillow beside you, “Shit, always so fuckin’ tight. I-I don’t wanna be rough, doll, but fuck—“

You grab his hair and place a quick wet kiss on his pouty lips, “Be rough. ‘S okay.”

“You sure? You told me not to be rough. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Your heart glitters, and you have to clear your throat to not let out a whimper at the warm, fuzzy feeling inside your stomach, “That was before you made me horny as fuck. Now fuck me, Yoongi.”

“Whatever you say,” Yoongi whispers on your lips before thrusting harshly inside you. You gasp loudly, your hand unconsciously grabbing his black hair, causing Yoongi to groan and his dick to twitch inside you from the pain.

Yoongi pulls back before thrusting his cock inside you again.

You arch your back and moan loudly; he spares no mercy to your pussy and starts thrusting with a fast, almost animalistic pace that leaves you moaning like the desperate whore you are.

“So stupid for my cock.” Yoongi laughs with a lazy smirk, and you mewl at his words, nodding as his chains dangle in front of your opened mouth. “You act all high and mighty, but you’re just another slut for me, huh? Just another dumb whore for me.”

You shake your head, trying your best to form any words to contradict his claims, but your throat only forms moans as he pounds his cock into you while holding your legs close to your stomach.

“Mmm,” You squeal when his finger runs your clit as he deliciously thrusts into you, and you swear you’ve never felt so fucking good. So full.

So his.

You're drunk in the sounds of his groans in your ear, mixed with the wet, lewd sounds of your skins slapping on each other.

You suddenly feel a hand harshly grabbing your chin, and you finally open your eyes, your lungs freeze at the sight of his hungry, dilated eyes as he traces your lips, admiring the slight drool that slips your mouth.

Yoongi wastes no time and brings you to a messy kiss, your tongues lazily touching each other, neither of you caring for the saliva on your chins.

“Want you to ride me doll.” Yoongi whispers in your mouth, and you gasp slightly, “Can you do that for me?”

“Okay,” You rapidly nod your head, and you whine when he suddenly slips out of you and rolls your bodies on the mattress so you’re on top.

“Shit, love this view.” Yoongi licks his lips, his eyes never leaving your breasts while all you can do is stare intensely at his lust-filled eyes.

You couldn’t help but gaze into his ethereal form, bathed under the moonlight’s shine.

He looks oh so beautiful, and all you could imagine is how it would feel to have his sparkling eyes looking directly at you.

Shining for you.

Only for you.

But before you can dwell more on his beauty, you feel hands delicately tracing lines of your waist, “You good, doll?”

You giggle silently, your heart beating faster with each passing moment, “Yeah ‘m fine. Can I ride you now?”

“Was just waiting for you, baby.” Yoongi chuckles at your eagerness and gasps when you suddenly grab his length, rubbing the tip against your folds, all while holding a lazy smirk on your face.

You slowly sink into his cock, moaning at the amazing stretch it gives you, and Yoongi hisses at how tight you feel at this angle.

“So big.” You bite your lips, slowly grinding your hips forward, your body shivering at how full you feel. You’re so sensitive, you almost moan loudly when Yoongi’s ring-filled hand touches your ass, squeezing it harshly under his palm.

“Go on, ride that dick, baby.” Yoongi rasps, slapping your ass before you start jumping up and down on his cock, the littlest ‘ah’s’ leaving your mouth as you chase your high.

Yoongi groans loudly, his eyes hypnotized by the way you ride his length, looking so fucking slutty with only your knee socks being the only thing that covers a part of your smooth skin.

The gushy sounds of your wet thighs slapping onto his skin send his brain into overdrive as he watches you bounce, your slick shining on the condom under the moonlight anytime you go up, only to go down again faster than before.

Lust consumes him as he watches your beautiful breasts bounce as you ride him with all your strength, and Yoongi’s dick twitches at the melodic sounds of your high-pitched moans.

“You’re my whore, aren’t you?” Yoongi thrusts his hips up, causing you to gasp and grip his stomach so your limp body stays in balance.

Yoongi harshly grabs your hair, his knuckles going white and forcing your face to tilt up to meet your eyes with his devilish ones.

“Fuckin’ say it.”

With the way he looks at you, he’s ready to incinerate your whole being, and you’re afraid you are already destroyed when the words slip out of your mouth, “‘M yo-your whore, Yoon–Yoongi! Only yours.”

Yoongi smirks as you scream, continuing the animalistic thrust of his hips, faster than ever before.

You swear you can’t breathe with all the pleasure that overwhelms every nerve, every sense of your body.

“You can only think about my cock, hm?” Yoongi sloppily licks his lips, his abdomen contracting every time your thrusts meet, “No one wants such a slut, huh? That’s why you only come to me, yeah?”

“N-No, I—” You moan, your eyes rolling to your skull as his cock finds your g-spot, and Yoongi grins. He knows he found it, you only go non-verbal once he reaches that special spot of yours.

“That’s my fucking slut.” Yoongi chuckles, his hips sloppily thrusting upwards while your hand goes down to rapidly rub your clit, “I’m gonna ruin this pussy for anyone else. Gonna only think of my fat cock and you wo-won’t even dare to fuck other men. Gonna ruin you, baby girl.”

“Yoon—ah,” You scream out, your mouth open as you feel your body close to falling into pure bliss, “C-cum—please, I need to—“

“Come all over this cock baby.” Yoongi moans out, and you stop your movements, your body shivering at the euphoria that is released through your body.

Your body turns limp, and you weakly fall forward, your scrunched face now close to Yoongi’s. You immediately whimper as you feel Yoongi continuing his thrusts into you, sparing no mercy to your abused and sensitive pussy as he chases his own high.

“Yoongi, s-sensitive—“

“Take it.” Yoongi harshly slaps your ass, and you mewl loudly at the sharp pain. Yoongi grabs your chin, forcing your pupils to catch his starving eyes, and you could swear you see a glimpse of the devil himself inside his captivating irises.

Your lungs stop as you realise.

You’re finally his, body and soul.

And a small tear escapes your left eye.

“Wa-wanna f-fuck you raw someday, d-doll,” Yoongi’s face scrunches as he groans the words out, “Wanna fill this pussy with my cum. Gonna make you walk around campus dripping with my-my cum so everyone knows how much o-of a slut the good girl is.”

You gasp loudly.

Did he mean it?

No—he couldn’t. That was just the lust talking, and Yoongi did tend to like dirty talking during sex.

That’s all it is. Right?

Your mind chooses to forget, and you’re cut off from your daze once you hear pretty moans slipping his lips as he rapidly fucks himself into you. “Ah, fuck, fuck—I’m g-gonna come so h-hard for you. W-where—”

“My mouth. Do it in my mouth.” You take his dick out of your pussy, and quickly take off the condom, throwing it somewhere across the room, before connecting your mouth to his leaking length.

“Fuck, d-doll, ‘m comi–ah!” A few bobs of your head, and he comes inside your mouth with a loud, pornographic groan.

You feel your pussy throb as you watch with hooded eyes, his head thrown back and his cherry-red lips parted as he entered a state of bliss. And fuck, what a sight for sore eyes he is.

“Show me your tongue,” Yoongi demands through his deep pants, and you do as requested, opening your mouth and showing your tongue full of his sticky cum.

You’re caught off-guard when Yoongi grabs your hair, pressing his lips onto yours in a lazy, open-mouthed kiss. You moan as your tongues exchange his come with each other, bits of his white release mix with your saliva and run down your chin.

Yoongi slowly removes his lips from yours, a trail of spit connecting both your lips and then breaking, dropping onto your naked chest.

“Swallow,” Yoongi instructs with a rasp in his voice, and shivers run through your spine as you do as he says.

You swallow all the cum that still rests in your mouth with no hesitation, and Yoongi groans at the sight, trying his hardest not to bust another nut right then and there. You scrunch your face at the salty taste on your throat and sit in the space beside him, the mattress jumping at your action.

“Shit, that was good.”

You suddenly feel his lips placing the softest peck on your lips, and tingles run through your body once you feel his hands gently rubbing your tummy.

“Water.” You slowly let out, your throat burning.

Yoongi is quick to get out of bed and comes back in an instant with cold water in his hands.

“Here you go, doll.” Yoongi helps you to sit up to place the glass on your lips, and you slowly gulp the cold water, almost sighing out loud at the relief you feel.

“Shit, I was too rough, I’m sorry.”

Yoongi sighs, his veiny hand rubbing his stomach as he stares at your white ceiling while all you can do is stare at him.

You are caught up in a beautiful image, your eyes mesmerised by how picturesque he is as if crafted by the delicate hands of the goddess of beauty herself.

You quickly shake your head, your heart skipping beats at his concern “‘S okay, I asked for it.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Yoongi asks, his eyes catch yours, and you shift your face to the sheets beneath you, your chest heating up from having been caught lovingly looking at Yoongi as if he were your…..boyfriend.

“Yeah. That was, uh, intense. To say the least.” You chuckle, and Yoongi snorts, returning his hand to your stomach to continue the soft rubs.

“Never did that snowballing shit with anyone. Did you think I went too far with that?”

Your eyebrows shift upwards, and your heart quickens its already rapid pace at his words—did Min Yoongi do a first with you? You were Min Yoongi’s first for something?

Your heart couldn’t help but jump.

Min Yoongi already had many of his firsts when it came to sex. The man was an expert, to say the least.

Having fucked so many girls, you thought he tried anything and everything with so many different people.

But no, he had a first with you.

“No, no. I liked it. It was very hot.” You smile lazily, and Yoongi sighs in relief, his eyes closing for a mere second.

“Okay, that’s good.” You place your water on your bedside table, and Yoongi lies beside you.

You stare at him again. He looks peaceful with his eyes closed.

It’s a tender scene. One you don’t get to have much whenever you are with him.

His breathing and body stay relaxed as he lets himself go for a mere second, and you could only wish the stars that spread through the night skies that you could live this moment again and again.

Until you have nothing left to dream about.

You’re scared of this feeling, of wanting to spend all your happy days with someone, of falling for the sweet nothings he never promised.

You can’t control him, you can’t force him to love you back, and that’s maybe what you fear most.

Because Min Yoongi is unpredictable. He’s wild. He’s a hazard to himself and your sanity.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Yoongi snorts, and you furrow your eyebrows as you’re cut off from your daze once his deep voice speaks up.

“Like what?” You laugh.

“I don’t know. It’s just weird. You’re fucking weird.” Yoongi lets out a chuckle, and you sigh in relief. The last thing you wanted was for him to find out about the gleam on your pupils, the way your eyes form hearts whenever you look at his beautiful face.

“Well, you fuck this weirdo.” You click your tongue and chuckle lightly.

And Yoongi smiles, “Yeah, I do.”

Maybe these moments were the ones where all your walls crumbled down into ashes, fading into the sky and leaving your heart vulnerable to the stabs of love.

The moments where you both stand like this—raw, naked, not caring for anything else in the world, how it makes you feel light. As if you could conquer the world.

Your hopes and dreams are no concern. Your failures and regret are thrown away by the calm sounds of his breathing that sweep away anything and everything that lets you down.

It’s these rare moments, the ones that are only glimpses in your painful field of vision of the world, are what the sonnets mean when you let yourself fall for another.

And in an ideal world, written in the book of your mind, these moments would last every minute, every day, every year, for the rest of your ideal life.

But in the real world, outside the proses of love, of the idealizations of the feeling everyone, so wishes for, what the dreamers never dare to think—is that these moments never last for more than a second before you’re back to bleeding in pain from loving the only one who destroys you in every way, and every day.

But maybe that’s just you. Maybe that’s what you get for choosing to love a disturbance, an instability on your otherwise still life.

Maybe that’s what love is.

Maybe that’s just what loving Yoongi is.

“I should go pee.” You whisper, secretly hoping this won’t end, that his touch will linger on your skin forevermore.

“Yeah, go do that.” Yoongi hums, tapping your thigh lightly, “Can I have a smoke by your window?”

“Sure. Just try not to make the room stink or you’ll take care of it.”

Yoongi chuckles while slowly getting up from the bed, “Will do, doll.”

You slowly walk to your bathroom, trying your hardest not to trip because of your wobbly, sore legs. You shouldn’t have let him be so rough with you, but you know that your horny mind couldn’t resist him or his fucking dick.

You’ll have to spend your Saturday trying your hardest to make the bruises fade away because you know that if Yuri sees you, questions will come, and you don’t think you’ll be able to lie so easily.

Who are you kidding? You won’t be able to lie at all, and you still don’t know how you and Yoongi haven’t been found out by her yet.

You look deep into your own eyes, and bile burns your throat. Is this really who you are? Fucking the man who has your friend’s heart?

Loving a man who will never be yours to claim?

You can’t look at yourself anymore, and so, you quickly turn off the sink and return to your room.

You grab your PJs from the floor, and while you put your clothes back on, you can’t help but stare at Yoongi, who stands by your window with a lit cigarette in between his fingers.

You slowly walk towards him, your heart beating miles per hour as you watch his face taking in the shine of the moon, revealing each detail of his striking features, and your soul glimmers at the mesmerising sight.

It feels serene.

Your heart is calm as you watch him, and your soul is at ease; there is no bleeding, no begging for him to see you.

“Stop staring and come here doll.” Yoongi takes a puff of his cigarette and slowly lets the smoke out into the air.

You slowly walk towards him, and you look down, realising he must have put his sweats back on while you were in the bathroom.

“Hm, this reminds me of cigarettes after sex.” You whisper, your eyes finding the full moon in the night sky while your lungs find it hard to breathe once you feel his lingering gaze on your body.

“You like their music?”

You sigh, “Yeah. Kinda. I don’t listen to them all the time, though.”

“Mmm, I like their song ‘Sweet’.”

You shift your head to the side and furrow your eyebrows, while Yoongi takes another puff from the cigarette, “You listen to them?”

Exhaling the smoke, Yoongi says, “Yeah, I listen to some of their songs. Shit’s good. Kinda catchy.”

Your lips part, “Wow.”

“Is it that shocking?”

You giggle, turning your head to watch the moon again, “Kinda, yeah. Sweet is a good song, though. You have good taste.”

“No shit.” Yoongi laughs and you smile slightly.

Being here, with Yoongi by your side during the whispers of the night, you’re okay.

You’re not plagued by the thoughts that he isn’t yours, you can’t feel the venom running in your veins, instead, gold shimmers inside your heart from the love, the sheer calm in your soul you feel when you are alone with him.

“Hold on, I gotta get my phone.” You quickly whisper before running to your bedside table, grabbing your phone and running back to the same spot you were standing on.

You turn on your camera and zoom in to get the best view of the shimmering moon while Yoongi watches your every action with amused and intrigued eyes.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi laughs, bringing the cigarette to his red lips as he watches you take hundreds of pictures of the moon.

“Taking pictures of the moon, duh.” You roll your eyes and Yoongi snorts, exhaling the smoke inside his mouth.

“You can’t even see it clearly with your shitty camera.”

“But it’s still pretty, isn’t it? Sometimes, pretty things can’t be seen so clearly, Yoongi. But that doesn’t mean it still isn’t beautiful.” You click your tongue, “I also like to take pictures of the moon so I can record the moment and relive it. Sometimes memories aren’t enough, y’know?”

Yoongi smirks, “So you wanna remember me, doll?”

You give him a side eye before continuing to take your pictures, “Nah, not really. It’s just that the moon is really pretty today.” You can only hope he doesn’t see how flushed you are, and that he can’t hear the heart that rapidly beats inside your chest.

Truth is, you don’t want to let this moment go.

You want to use the moon as evidence that tonight existed, that it wasn’t just another one of your daydreams where he isn’t even real.

“Want some?” Yoongi offers the lit cigarette between his fingers, and you shake your head, putting on a disgusting face.

“No thanks, they taste awful.”

You turn your head, your stomach almost dropping as you watch the beautifully hot scene of Yoongi taking another puff from his cigarette, the smoke blinding the moon for a mere second.

Why can’t he be yours?

You scratch your eyes as you suddenly yawn. “I’m tired. Are you….”

You want to ask him, the words are on the tip of your tongue, but you know he won’t stay even if you beg him to. You know the unspoken rule—Min Yoongi doesn’t stay the night with his hook-ups.

You remember, two weeks after you started sleeping with Yoongi, how a friend of Yuri’s from her cheerleading team, Hayun, while you were gossiping in the cafeteria, told you she slept with Yoongi, and when she asked him to stay for the night, he harshly declined and said he never slept with one-night stands.

Two days after, you can still vividly picture you asking him to stay, to test if what Hayun said was true, and maybe to prove something to your ego that you weren’t like the others, that maybe Yoongi felt something else for you.

Yet, he declined.

Looking at you with bored eyes, you can remember how he harshly said no to your offer. It was the first time you realised you were never going to be unique in his eyes.

And as you fell for him, thorns wrapped around your bleeding heart the more you wished for the impossible—to be seen as more, as something you know you aren’t meant to be.

“I was thinking of sleeping here. I’m too fuckin’ tired to go to my dorm, and Hobi is probably still fucking that girlfriend of his.”

Your heart glitters and skips a beat as the words leave his mouth, and you clear your throat, trying to stop the stutter in your voice, “Is that why you came here?”

Yoongi hums before crushing the cigarette in his hand and throwing it out the window, “Yeah, I guess.”

Your insides burn as you feel the newly-bloomed, thornless roses die a second after encountering their life.

“Can I? Sleep here, I mean. I’ll take the couch if you want.”

“No, that couch is too uncomfortable. You’ll wake up with horrible back pain, trust me.” You gulp, eyes falling to the ground, “Let’s just…..”

“Share the bed?”

“Yeah….If that’s too uncomfortable for you I can sleep on the couch instead—“

Yoongi slightly clenches his teeth, “Fuck no. Who do you think I am?”

“Mmm, an asshole?”

Yoongi laughs, “Fair enough. But I’m not that kind of asshole.”

“Sure you aren’t.” You chuckle, “I’ll get to bed, I’m fucking exhausted.” You scratch your reddish eyes, while taking slow steps toward your bed, “Can’t even walk properly anymore. You’ll fucking pay for this, Yoongi.”

Yoongi follows you to the other side of the bed, and he chuckles while getting under the covers, “As if you don’t love it.”

You’re finally in your bed, under your covers, and you mumble with closed eyes, “Whatever, asshole.”

Yoongi chuckles lightly before turning to you, and closing his eyes, letting his consciousness fade into the dream world.

And during the night, like magnets, your bodies slowly gravitate toward each other as your skins glisten under the moonlight that shines through your window.

And when his arms hold you through the night, the moon smiles.

You wake up with your mind in a daze, and the light that shines through your window blinds your tired eyes.

‘Fuck’, you curse, ‘I can’t believe I forgot to put down the curtain.’

You shift to your side, squeezing your eyes from the uncomfortable pain on your sensitive eyes, and you gasp lightly when you feel an arm pushing you back into a chest after your body squirms.

You immediately turn your head to find Min Yoongi beside you, his eyes closed as he calmly breathes on your neck.

“Mmm, morning,” Yoongi says with a low, husky morning voice, his eyes still closed.

And even in your tiredness, your heart flies a million miles per hour, your mind questioning whether or not you are stuck inside a beautiful dream.

“Hey.” You whisper, your throat singing slightly, while you try your best to not show how deeply affected you are by waking up next to the man who holds a part of your everything.

When Yoongi slowly opens his eyes, his entire body squirms as he hisses, “Shit, why is it so light.”

You gulp, “Forgot to put down the curtain. Sorry.”

“‘S okay.” Yoongi rubs his eyes, and you find yourself admiring how cute his morning self can be.

You begin to wonder what would be like waking up next to him every day of your life, but before you can drown yourself more in the painful possibilities of what could be, Yoongi cuts your thoughts by getting up from the bed.

“Where are you going?”

Yoongi groans, stretching his arms as he slowly walks toward your door, “Gotta pee. I’ll be back.”

As Yoongi goes to the bathroom, you grab your phone beside you and immediately curse once you see Yuri’s messages lingering on your screen.

Yuri : fuxk. ykongi isn’y here.

Yuri : i puy on this red dreess just for him :(/

Yuri : y won’t he fuckk me again?

Yuri : i didn’y rven fuck jimin tonight bc i wanted ykongi. I DIBT FUVK JIMIN!!!!!!!!!!

Yuri : y does ONE dick have me like this? i hate gthis.

Yuri : but i want him again 😭😭😭😭😭 and he didn’t even show up wtF

Yuri : bet ir’s that whore Yena’s fault. saw thenm together last week. ew.

Yuri : he fuxked that bitch but not me again? WTF.

Yuri : men r trash.

Yuri : i need ur advice. where r u? :(((((((((((

  You can’t think as you read your best friend’s drunk messages.

A storm consumes the peace of mind that harboured your body moments ago, the ugliest of emotions now washing all the serenity away.

  You : hey. are u ok?

Yuri : holy shit. hi. i was so drunk last night omfg.

You : i figured loll

Yuri : wanna hang out? i need to talk to u :(

You : are u gonna talk about yoongi? 😒

Yuri is typing…

Yuri : duh. i need ur advice 😭 this man is messing with my head.

You sigh—of course, she would want to meet up to talk to him and ask you about dating advice or how to get Yoongi to notice her. It’s all she has ever talked about these past few months, and you are fucking over it.

Hearing your best friend talk about the man you secretly love, and ask you for advice on how to get him for yourself is never pleasant. Especially when you know she’s much more likely to win his heart that you so seek.

With a groan and a heavy heart, you answer.

You : sure. wanna watch a movie?

Yuri : come to my dorm then? i’m gonna have a lazy day today lol.

You : ok. be there soon.

Yuri : all right xo

“Hey, doll, is your roommate here?” Yoongi suddenly asks, leaning on your doorframe, and you almost let your phone fall to your face at the surprise.

“Shit, uh, I dunno. She kind of always comes and goes. Why?” You ask while Yoongi crosses his arms, and you fight the urge to not drool at the sight of him with only his sweatpants on and jewellery still attached to his half-naked body.

“Heard a lot of moaning from the other room. Maybe she’s watching porn or something.”

You laugh out loud, throwing your head back at his comment, “She’s not watching porn, Yoongi, she’s having sex.”

“At nine in the morning?!”

You giggle and you can’t help but coo at his opened lips and widened eyes. “People have morning sex, Yoongi. And my roommate is a bit of a sex addict.”

“Who’s your roommate?”

“Haneul—“

“___!” You hear a high-pitched voice coming from the other side of your dorm, and you immediately freeze on your spot once you see your roommate.

“Where are the goddamn condoms?! I’m trying to fuck here—Min Yoongi?!” Your roommate’s eyes widen, and Yoongi smirks before lazily waving at your roommate.

“Do I know you?”

Your roommate scoffs, “No, But I know you.” Haneul scoffs, scrunching her face in disgust as she eyes Yoongi up and down, “What are you doing in ___’s room—wait, what the fuck?!”

Your roommate’s eyes widen as she turns her head to you, and you only gulp thickly, your hands starting to tremble once you realise the situation you have been caught in.

You know Haneul doesn’t like Yoongi, she has vebalized her distaste for him countless times within the past month, and whenever his name slipped Yuri’s lips, she was fast to roll her eyes and fake gag.

She told you how Yoongi once fucked one of her best friends, and left her hanging the very next day, not even bothering to answer any of the texts she sent weeks later, something he commonly did with his one-night stands, and how devastated it left her friend.

Since then, Haneul can’t even hear his name and she’s already rolling her eyes or scrunching her face in disgust.

It’s a bit hypocritical of her, really, since she’s done the same thing to the men and women she sleeps with, but who are you to call on her shit?

“Um, it’s—it’s not what it looks like!” You immediately blurt out, your hands starting to shake and your lungs constricting when you catch her widened eyes, a drop of cold sweat threatening to run through your forehead.

You look to Yoongi, desperation inside your pupils when you stare into his calm eyes, praying that he understands you want him to lie for you, tell Haneul anything that denies her obvious suspicion that you two have slept together.

“Yeah. We had a project together and I accidentally slept in. As if I would ever do her.” Yoongi rolls his eyes.

Oh.

Your heart dies a little at his words.

You can’t stop the thoughts that take over your mind. Is it really what he thinks?

Deep down, you know it’s true—you and him aren’t a match, it was never even supposed to happen in the first place.

But the universe is harsh, promising a cursed future for your heart, destined to seek its destruction within a love not reciprocated. Cursed to deteriorate within the empty kisses of lust your soul thought to be the love you started to feel.

He’s everything, he’s the centre of everyone’s attention, he’s the moon every poet praises, and you’re nothing but the rain.

The one that everyone dreads.

“She’s too good of a person to ever sleep with you.” Haneul snarls, a look of disgust plastered on her face, and Yoongi’s lips twitch—you know he wants to smirk. To tease you and tell her he’s the one you meet after hours when you text her you’re doing a late shift at the coffee shop you work at, or that you’re staying late in the library to study.

“Whatever. I’m leaving, anyway.” Yoongi huffs, turning to grab his shirt from the ground, and then he turns to you, “Text me the final results, K?”

Yoongi gets out of your room, bumping his shoulder with Haneul, and she only scoffs, throwing daggers at his back as he walks to your dorm’s exit.

“What a fucking prick.” Haneul rolls her eyes, “It must be hell working with that bastard. Anyway, where are the condoms again?”

You point to your bedside table, “Second drawer.”

Haneul immediately opens the drawer, and gets a packet, examining it, “Hm, the dick isn’t this large but it’ll do. Thanks, babe!” You laugh, throwing your head back, and your roommate runs toward her room where her dick appointment—as she calls them—awaits on her bed.

You feel your phone vibrate on your hand, and your heart squeezes once you see the name plastered on your screen. You forgot about your encounter with Yuri.

  Yuri : bitch where tf are you????

You : sorryyy, i got caught up on some studies from my last lecture.

Yuri : jesus you don’t have a life.

You : 😒

Yuri : whatever. if you don’t hurry up i’ll choose the movie alone…..

You : oh hell no!!!!

You : be there in ten

Yuri : that’s what i thought

You roll your eyes and put on a baggy grey sweater and the Radiohead shirt you stole from your older brother before grabbing your flip-flops and heading out of your room.

You know you don’t look flattering in the slightest, and if you went out in the wild, people would look at you with the most disgusted and judging faces, but Yuri’s apartment is not even two minutes from yours.

You pass through your roommate’s room, and immediately scrunch your face at the loud moans and loud squeak of the bed.

You’re grateful that your bed doesn’t squeak like Haneul’s, or else you’d be screwed.

You’re finally out of your apartment, and once you reach Yuri’s, you knock only once and she’s already opening the door for you.

“Bitch, I need your help.” You stare at Yuri—she’s just like you, with her hair a mess and baggy clothes, yet, there’s a difference.

She still looks amazing, and well, you look like a fucking witch.

Oh, how unfair is life, huh?

Yuri grabs your arm and leads you to her mini sofa, and your stomach twists as it awaits for his name to come out of her lips, the name you were chanting like a mantra at the devilish hours of last night.

“I need your help with Yoongi,” Yuri whines as she bounces on the couch, and you sit beside her, a sigh leaving your lips as you groan loudly.

“I know, I know. But, fuck, this crush on him might be getting deeper.” Your eyes shift to the ground as she continues, “Jimin asked to fuck me again, and I said no because I was waiting for Yoongi to appear. I said no to Jimin, ___!”

Jimin and Yuri had been in a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement for many months now. You knew Jimin wanted something more, but Yuri’s eyes only shifted toward Yoongi, and he accepted it because if having sex was the only way to have Yuri, then he would gladly do it, even if his heart shattered in the process.

You remember when he told you this, you thought he was a fool, an idiot—who in their right mind would let themselves be hurt just to be close to the one who harms them?

“There are plenty of other fish in the sea”, you told him then.

“But she’s the only one I want.” He replied while sighing.

Oh, how you wish you didn’t understand Jimin today—how you wish you didn’t find stars in Yoongi’s eyes, ones that cursed you to find solace in them, when they didn’t even shine for you.

“I’m absolutely fucked. Why does one dick have me like this?” Yuri groans, grabbing her hair in frustration.

You ignore the burn in your throat, and try to give her the advice you usually would—you were always good with giving other people advice, even when you yourself didn’t really follow them.

“You gotta stop thinking about him too much. He’s a fucking asshole, dude. He’s probably out there fucking another girl right now, and you’re here whining because of him. You’re better than him, Yuri.”

You absolutely want to throw up as the words spill out of your mouth, you are no better than the the devil. How did you reach this point of fucking your best friend’s crush?

“Ugh,” She groans, passing her hands through her smooth black hair, “I kind of…..texted him yesterday, asking him to meet me at the locker room, and he didn’t answer yet. I bet it’s that bitch Yena’s fault. I should have kicked her off the team when I had the chance. She can’t even do a backflip properly.” Yuri scoffs, and your blood runs cold at her words.

So much information for your little, fragile heart, that aches at her words as you imagine Yoongi placing the hands that were on your skin mere hours ago, on another, better woman’s body.

“Can we just, like, watch the film and not talk about Yoongi? I-I don’t even know the dude and I already hate him.” You scoff, crossing your arms against your chest, and Yuri sighs, resting her head on your shoulder as she starts browsing Netflix’s catalogue.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m talking way too much about him,” Yuri sighs once more, “But what about you? Don’t you think Namjoon would be a good guy for you?”

Yuri lifts her eyebrows twice suggestively, and you roll your eyes, “You only want me and him to work out so you can get closer to Yoongi.”

“That may be partially true, but you and him make such a good couple! You both are nerds and love to study and y’know, you guys just match!” Yuri lightly hits your shoulder and you can’t help but scoff at her words.

Namjoon is an attractive guy, and maybe if you weren’t so caught up with the forbidden fruit that is Yoongi, you would see him in a different light—but you can’t, not when only one pair of brown, majestically beautiful eyes are the only thing in your mind.

“I don’t like him that way, Yuri, so just drop it, alright?”

Yuri groans, “All right, whatever. What movie do you wanna watch, anyway?”

“Scream?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Ugh, why are the options always fucking junk food?” Yuri groans as you both put your trays on top of the wooden table, and you can’t help but giggle at your best friend’s frustration.

“You could’ve gotten just the salad on the other side of the cafeteria.”

Yuri rolls her eyes as Yuri takes a harsh bite out of her mozzarella pizza, “Please stop making sense right now and let me put my anger on this uni’s horrible food options.”

You giggle, taking the softest bite out of your hotdog, “Jeez, what’s got your panties in a twist?

“Please, never say that again.” Yuri scrunches her face and you snicker, taking another bite of your hotdog as you wait for your best friend to stop her dramatic sigh before she talks again. “I saw that bitch Yena all over Yoongi today.”

Yuri scoffs, and you almost choke on your hotdog when the sentence slips out of your best friend’s mouth, “She’s such a fucking slut. She was basically flashing her tits to him, thank fuck he wasn’t even paying attention.”

The smallest sense of relief washes over your body when she tells you Yoongi wasn’t paying attention, and the smallest part of your heart hopes he wasn’t paying attention because his eyes were only set on you, but you knew that to be false.

You would never be the first he would ever really see, even if you so wish for it when the clock strikes midnight and tears threaten to fall down from your eyes as you remember his careless whispers.

“Aren’t you being a lil’ too harsh? It’s not like you don’t do the same thing….” You mumble through your food, and Yuri looks at you with widened betrayed eyes.

“You’re supposed to be agreeing with me, not being the voice of reason. God, you can be so fucking annoying at times.” Yuri rolls her eyes, and you sink into your seat.

Yuri was a good friend, she truly was.

You’ve been friends ever since you both met in your freshman year of high school, but you can always forget just how mean she can be when she doesn’t get her way or hears exactly what she doesn’t want to.

And you still can’t understand how you don’t fight back.

You know you’ve got the sassy comeback on your lips, you know how to shut her up in a second, and if it were anybody else, you’d spit it out with no hesitation.

And yet, you stand here, with your stomach burning in shame as you sink into your seat while silently eating your hot dog.

“Holy shit, Namjoon’s here!”

Your eyes widen as Yuri smirks, “Wait, Yuri, no—”

“Namjoon!” Yuri calls out, waving her arm with a smile on her face, and Namjoon visibly flinches, almost dropping his tray on the floor. He looks at your table with wide eyes, and you hide your face in your palms, groaning loudly at your best friend’s actions.

“Oh, hey ___, hey Yuri.” Namjoon flashes his smile, cute dimples appearing on each of his cheeks, and if your heart wasn’t so caught up in the forbidden fruit that is his friend Min Yoongi, you know your heart would have faintly flickered at his cuteness.

Yuri licks her lip, flashing her best fake smile to the man before you, the one that was enough to make so many men weak on their knees. “Doesn’t ___ look so pretty today?”

Your face heats up at her words, and you hesitantly look up to see Namjoon smiling at you, you could only wish it was his gummy smile in front of you.

“Yeah. You look cute, ____. Is that a new shirt?”

You slowly nod your head, a small smile tugging on your lips, “Yeah, actually. I bought it from—”

“So, Namjoon, do you know where Yoongi is?” Yuri flutters her eyes, ever so slowly tracing her nails on the man’s hand, and you internally roll her eyes. Yuri’s oldest trick in the book, and somehow, it works on every single guy.

Namjoon's cheeks turn into a faint pink, “U-um, I don’t know, I-I texted him today and—”

“Namjoon!” A deep voice calls Namjoon from the other side of the cafeteria, and your heart stops as you realise it’s just the man whom your heart bleeds for every day of your life.

Min Yoongi.

You watch with the heaviest heart as Yuri’s eyes glisten when the basketball captain comes into her field of vision, and bile threatens to burn your throat as you realise you aren’t the only one to feel so moved for the man.

“Oh hey, Yuri.” Yoongi greets your best friend and bites his lip once he turns to you—you know it’s tortuous for him to hold back his teasing whenever he sees you, but you glare at him, silently threatening him.

“Hey—”

“Oh, Yoongi! I don’t think you know her yet, but this is my best friend, ____.” Yuri giggles, and Yoongi smirks, putting his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

“Oh, I know who she is.” Yoongi licks his lips, “Hey, ____.”

You visibly gulp the lump that suddenly formed in your throat as he stares at you with those tempting cat-like eyes, and you feel the world stopping, your lungs failing to let any more oxygen in as you stare at each other for the fewest milliseconds before your best friend is talking again with her high-pitched voice.

“Oh, you do?” Yuri turns her head innocently, and you want to laugh at just how fake she can be. You always thought she should’ve been an actress with her amazing skills. “Well, that doesn’t matter. Do you guys wanna eat with us?”

“Um, I don’t think Yoon—“

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says, immediately cutting Namjoon off, who looks at Yoongi with widened eyes.

Namjoon slowly pulled a chair next to you as Yoongi got the chair next to Yuri, who silently squealed at his action.

Namjoon furrows his eyebrows as he stares at Yoongi in front of him.

He knows his best friend like the palm of his hand, and he knows Yoongi would rather be caught dead than be with anyone at this time of the day. The basketball player has no patience for anyone before his meal, and even worse before he has his first coffee of the day.

For fuck’s sake, the player had just shoved Yena off mere moments ago, and she’s notorious for being one of the campus’ hottest girls, with huge tits Namjoon would give up the world to be able to suck.

Yet, now he’s here, willingly sitting beside Yuri, his hottest yet most annoying hookup, before eating his lunch.

Namjoon waits for the scowl from his best friend’s lips, but all he does is bite it as he sits beside Yuri.

As Namjoon stares at his best friend and Yuri who stands before him with the sparkliest eyes Namjoon’s ever seen, something clicks inside the man.

A lightbulb. An epiphany.

Namjoon’s jaw drops to the floor.

Yoongi fucking likes Yuri.

Yoongi leans on his chair, crossing his arms on his chest as he stares at the woman in front of him, you and your heart beat so fast, that you could swear your vision almost starts to fall as you stare at the man before you.

“So, Yoongi, how’s practice going for you? Do you think you’ll win on Friday?”

Yoongi scoffs lightly, a familiar cocky smirk resting on his lips as he turns his head to Yuri, and a venomous feeling courses through your veins.

You can’t help but wonder what passes through his mind when he stares at her. Does he think she’s beautiful?

More beautiful than you?

You know that’s what everyone thinks, and not even you can deny it—Yuri is ethereal, the most angelic features adorning her face, and you know you could never compare to that.

“Of course, we’ll win. My team is the fuckin’ best.”

Yuri giggles, slowly placing her slim, almost angelic hands on top of Yoongi’s arm, “Of course you will! I’m training my girls to put on the best dance for your victory on Friday.”

You expect Yoongi to stutter, to fall like putty to Yuri’s touch, and yet, he easily withdraws his arm from her angelic hand.

Yuri visibly frowns at that, and you see the faintest glimpse of rage from her eyes before it’s back to the sparkles of admiration as she stares at the basketball player beside her.

You silently sigh as you take another bite of your hotdog.

You will always be invisible next to Yuri, won’t you?

Are you so cursed, that the man you so love, that your heart cries for every night, prefers your mesmerizing best friend over you?

You love Yuri, you truly do, but you could only wish that for once in your life, she wasn’t the one to be picked. That you’d for once be visible in the eyes you so want, but you know she’s the only one he will seek.

It’s always been like that. A cruel fate that is written by destiny itself.

It has happened so many times before.

Your crush from high school asked her out for prom and you stood there, watching the scene as your heart broke for the first time.

It happened too with your first lab partner whom you developed the smallest crush on during freshman year of college, who asked Yuri out on a date while at the same party where you decided to confess your slight feelings for him.

And the last time it happened was with your gym crush.

You thought this time, he wouldn’t fall into Yuri's clutches, since she didn’t go to the same gym as you—but what are the chances that she suddenly decides to join you for one of your workouts?

And the minute Yuri’s stepped into the gym, you saw your gym crush’s eyes fall on her, and it didn’t take long until he asked for her number, and the following week, she told you every detail about how thoroughly he fucked her, and she explained how she dumped him because he wasn’t Yoongi.

The worst part is, she knew you liked them all.

And you know Yoongi will fall for her charm. He will slip out of your hands so easily, all that will remain are the memories of him that will be as distant as mercury is to neptune.

Forced to watch destiny engrave their names together on the moon while you burn like the sun that is your love for the man that will never be yours.

You’re so caught up in your own little world, you almost jump once you feel your phone vibrating on your pocket, and your heart jumps from your chest once you read the name lingering on your screen.

Your cheeks heat up, and your eyes shift to Yoongi in front of you, who gives you the tiniest glance while his luscious lips form the devilish smirk you will never admit arouses you.

You quickly turn your head to Yuri, your fast heart pulsating on your ears as adrenaline rushes through your system, and the slightest relief washes through you when you realise she’s talking about herself to Yoongi, who doesn’t even pay attention to her hand on his arm, but instead, the phone on his hand under the wooden table.

Your eyes widen while your breath hitches at his lewd words—how could he have the courage to send such a thing when your best friend is beside him, trying her best siren-like tricks to seduce him.

“Hey, Yoongi. Are you listening?”

Yoongi turns his head up to your best friend, and his face is so cold and indifferent, it sends shivers through your spine.

“Sure.”

“Who are you texting?” Yuri asks with her best innocent voice, and Yoongi immediately shuts his phone off when your friend tries to get a peek of his screen. “Is it……Is it Yena?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Yuri’s face immediately falls, and your eyes widen at his sharpness.

It’s been some time since you’ve seen this part of him, you almost forgot just how much his words could cut anyone’s heart like a knife while his eyes held no remorse for it.

You’re an awful liar, aren’t you?

Of course you need him, but not in the ways he thinks—your heart needs him so your river can flow, so your moon can shine on your body, so your nerves can find the only calmness it needs, and that only happens when you’re next to him.

You sigh, and send another message, asking him to stop it, and he only texts back with a cold ‘K’.

You put your phone back in your back pocket, and when you shift your head, your eyes unexpectedly catch Yoongi’s brown ones, that hold a glint of mischief behind tem, and you know he wants to tease you, to whisper in your ear the many positions he will take you in, to make you flushed with his words for everyone to see.

But he knows he can’t, and when he shifts his eyes to your best friend beside him, your soul screams for him again, for his attention on you, because you know briefness is the only thing you, the invisible one, will ever get from him.

“I gotta go to my next lecture. See you, Joon.”

Namjoon awkwardly waves to Yoongi as he takes a big bite of his pizza, his mind wondering why his best friend had acted so strange, so unlike him.

Namjoon knows Yoongi never liked Yuri—he always complained how that girl couldn’t hop off his dick for the life of her, and how she’s the least favourite of his many hookups. And yet, now he willingly sits next to her?

Yoongi is known to not care for his hookups—he doesn’t even like talking to them unless he’s at a party or just horny.

Namjoon doesn’t blame his friend—Yuri, although incredibly annoying, is a beautiful, fucking hot woman.

“Uh, I’ll be going too. It was great seeing you two.” Namjoon gives you two his friendliest smile, and you wave goodbye as he steps up from his chair and leaves your table, leaving you and a fuming Yuri alone.

‘Oh fuck.’ You gulp when seeing your best friend’s eye twitch.

“He was totally texting that slut Yena.” Yuri clenches her teeth, and suddenly it’s hard for you to breathe while your heart picks up its pace once again.

You feel like a traitor in the court of friendship, a clandestine lover of the very person who had captured your heart, knowing he will squeeze its life out every minute that passes by while you love him so.

You knew how much your best friend liked him, how much she pined for him, and yet, you still chose to forbiddenly develop a storm of emotions for the same man that never chose to look you in the eye before that night.

And you became the secret villain in the story you never intended to write, the monster that fell for the same man your best friend held sparkly eyes for.

Your stomach burns with the guilt that swallows you whole as you stare into oblivion while Yuri shamelessly tears Yena apart, and you can’t help but wonder what she would do to you if she ever found out what you and Yoongi did after hours.

With a sigh, you swallow the tear of shame that threatens to slip out of your guilt-filled eyes.

“I don’t even understand what he sees in her. Besides her boobs, she’s just an ugly whore desperate for attention. I am so much better than her and he doesn’t even pay attention to me.” Yuri scoffs, crossing her arms against her chest as she lets all her anger out while you stand there absentminded.

“Are you even listening?!” Yuri growls, scoffing once more when she sees you flinch.

“Shit, sorry, I kinda dissociated there.” You chuckle nervously, and Yuri hums.

“Were you thinking of Namjoon?” Yuri smirks, and you roll your eyes.

“No, I was thinking of all the assignments I have due. You gotta stop trying to make me and Namjoon work dude, we’re both not interested.”

Yuri rolls her eyes and fake gags, “Lord, you’re so fucking boring. You need a dick to take that stick out of your ass.”

“I’m not interested, thanks.”

Yuri rolls her eyes, and before she can say any thing else, a voice cuts her off by calling her name.

“Yuri!”

Yuri slaps her face while groaning, and you turn your head to find a blue-haired man walking toward your table.

Park Jimin.

You snicker at Yuri’s state, and her groans get louder as Jimin gets closer to your table.

“Hey, Yuri.” Jimin smiles while taking the seat Yoongi was in before, and Yuri rolls her eyes.

“Jimin, if you wanna fuck, I can’t right now. Go ask Mina, or something.” Yuri grumbles while looking at her red nails, and your eyes fill with pity was you watch Jimin’s mouth turn into the slightest frown.

“I don’t wanna fuck, Yuri. Can’t I just come here and talk to you?” Jimin sighs, and looks at your before waving, “Oh, hey, ____. Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

You chuckle, crossing your arms against your chest, “Hey, Jimin. No worries.”

Jimin turns his head to Yuri, the oh so familiar shimmer inside his eyes as he stares at your best friend, “You look fucking beautiful—”

“Whatever. I have some boring math lecture now, so I gotta go. You wanna watch my training later?”

You shake your head with a sigh, and Jimin’s eyes shift to the ground, “Can’t, I have a shift at the cafe tonight.”

“Ugh, fine.” Yuri rolls her eyes and grabs her tray before stepping out of her seat, “Say hi to Taehyung for me.”

You chuckle lightly, “Sure. See you.”

“Bye, bitch.”

As you watch Yuri walk away, you sigh heavily, your heart heavier than a rock, guilt tightening its grip on your chest as you stare at your food.

“I’m so fucking pathetic.” Jimin groans into his palms, and you watch him with a clenching heart.

“You gotta give up, man. She’s not gonna change fo you.” You purse your lips, your stomach turning at the advice that comes out of your mouth, and Jimin sighs.

“I can’t, dammit.” Jimin slams his hand on the table, and you flinch, guilt eating you alive as your mind screams how much of a hypocrite you are.

“Why do you even love her so much?”

Jimin chuckles before letting out a deep breath, “I don’t fucking know.”

“Well, if you truly don’t know, then….”

Jimin gulps while looking at the ground.

You know the look in his eyes from a mile away—shame.

“Gotta go. It was nice seeing you, ____. See you later.”

You smile tightly while waving slightly, “See you, Jimin.”

As Jimin walks away, your fingers go to your throbbing temple.

Until when are you going to sustain the weight of guilt before you crumble?

“What’s up with you today?” Taehyung asks in a rushed whisper, and you hum while pressing the button on the machine.

“What do you mean?” You ask, never taking your eyes off the cup as it fills with coffee, and Taehyung sighs. You were always a tough one to crack.

“I literally saw you put whipped cream on an Iced Americano. You are clearly not okay. What the hell happened?”

“It’s none of your business, Taehyung.” You roll your eyes, and Taehyung scoffs, but he’s not taken aback by your rudeness, no, it only fuels the curiosity inside him.

You and Taehyung worked together in the cafe right beside your campus and he was a great colleague. Attentive, fun to be around, a little too bubbly for your liking at times, but nothing you couldn’t tolerate.

But Taehyung was always a curious guy, and although it could be funny at times to know some gossip during your working hours, it was never fun whenever he mingled in your business.

“Tsk,” Taehyung clicks his tongue, “Something’s going on, and I will find out, ____.”

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes, grabbing no lactose milk beside you, and praying Taehyung would leave you alone.

“Wanna hear some gossip to cheer you up?” Taehyung smirks, and you sigh while nodding your head—if this was going to let him get away from you, then, of course, you would hear a silly little gossip you would later forget.

“Y’know Min Yoongi?”

Your heart suddenly stops at the name that slips from Taehyung’s lips.

“Yeah. Who doesn’t?” You snort, and Taehyung chuckles.

“True. Anyway, there’s a rumour he’s fucking someone from the cheer squad. Just thought I’d let you know, cause, well…..your friend, Yuri…..”

Everyone on campus knows about Yuri’s obsessive crush on Yoongi.

She made sure to remind each girl she saw him hooking up with that he was hers. Rumours about the crazy head cheerleader spread like wildfire at the beginning of your sophomore year after Yuri ‘accidentally’ tripped a girl over in the hallway and hissed a loud ‘slut’ while doing so.

The girl later overheard you scolding Yuri for doing that to the innocent girl because she saw her and Yoongi having sex in his car after cheerleading practice, and she spread to everyone just how crazy Yuri is.

You never saw the girl again, rumours say she transferred to another university.

You gulp thickly, a burn suddenly forming on your throat, but before you can even answer, another one of your co-workers, Eunchae, rapidly speaks up, “Who’s fucking who? I smelled gossip from a mile away.”

You roll your eyes, both your co-workers are suckers for gossip, and you sometimes question your own sanity whenever you are near them.

Taehyung chuckles, “Oh, just a rumour that Yoongi’s fucking someone from the cheerleading squad.”

Eunchae chuckles, “Ah, Min Yoongi. Best dick I’ve ever had.”

Your eyes widen, and Taehyung’s mouth drops before he talks again, “What the fuck, he got you too?”

“It was, like, many, many months ago. That man fucked me so good I accidentally said ‘I love you’ while orgasming.”

Taehyung makes a dramatic gag expression, “Ew. TMI, Eunchae. That’s my friend you’re talking about.”

Ah yes, Taehyung is a basketball player on the college’s team, one that Min Yoongi is the captain of, and is part of the same friend group as Yoongi.

When you first started working in this little cafe months ago and you saw Taehyung for the first time, you internally groaned, thinking he would be a cocky shit like some of his teammates, but he surprised you by being an annoying cinnamon roll you learned to like.

You still can’t understand how he and Yoongi are even in the same friend group. You know they aren’t super close, not like Taehyung is with Jungkook, or Yoongi is with Hoseok and Namjoon, but they are still friends.

How could Taehyung, the sweet yet irritating man, even be in the same space as the cocky asshole that is Min Yoongi?

“You said I love you to him?” You laugh a little too loud, and Eunchae sighs heavily.

“Yeah. Haven’t talked to him since. I sometimes miss his dick, though.” Eunchae sighs once more, entering a daydream state, and Taehyung scoffs while crossing his arms against his chest.

“I don’t get it. He fucks literally everyone and has every girl after him. Like, what the fuck am I doing wrong?” Taehyung cutely pouts, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes—Kim Taehyung is a fun man to be around sometimes, but holy fuck, can he get on your nerves.

“Ugh. Taehyung, Stop acting like you get no bitches when I literally saw you fucking that girl at that party last week.” You hiss—you’re sick and tired of Kim Taehyung acting like he doesn’t get any women when the man looks like a fallen angel. You’ve heard so many people talking about how they had a crush on him, and yet here he is, acting like he doesn’t fuck a new girl every other week.

However, unlike Min Yoongi, Taehyung is known to be sweet to his hookups, and you still can’t understand how no one hasn’t fallen in love with him yet.

“Yeah, and she asked me if Yoongi was single after we had sex. She had all of this,” Taehyung points at his body, more specifically his dick, and both you and Eunchae scrunch your faces in repulsion, “And still had the nerve to ask about Yoongi.”

“Oh shit. What did you do?” Eunchae asks with a lifted eyebrow and Taehyung gulps.

His eyes shift to the floor, and he mutters, “I gave her his number.”

“You did what?!” Eunchae shouts while you sigh disappointingly, passing your palms through your face, and Taehyung pouts.

“I just—What should I have done? Tell her to go fuck herself after we literally just fucked?!”

Eunchae scoffs, “Duh, that’s what I’d do.”

“And she’d probably spread to everyone what an ‘asshole’ I am. I gotta keep my clean reputation, y’know?”

Eunchae snorts, and you can’t help the small giggle you let out, “What reputation?”

“You’re being mean, ____.”

“And you were dumb as fuck, Tae.” You shrug, and Taehyung whines.

“Whatever,” He huffs, “I still don’t get how every single woman is down bad for him. Your friend Yuri, the whole cheerleading squad, and every single woman I kiss talks about him. At this point ___ is the only one he hasn’t fucked.”

You almost let the coffee in your hands spill on your uniform, and you clear your throat.

Oh, if only Taehyung knew.

“And how do you know that?”

Taehyung scoffs, looking at you as if what you asked was the most absurd thing in the world, “You’re not his type.”

Eunchae squints her eyes, “And what is his type?”

Taehyung sighs, “Confident, annoying, kinda bratty, big ass, hot as fuck, maybe even a little slutty. Basically the opposite of our precious ____ here. And you’re just too good to fuck an asshole like yoongi.”

‘Why does everyone keep saying that?’ Your eyebrows scrunch, and your heart falls to your stomach at his words.

“I’d say your friend Yuri is the perfect example of his type. She’s fuckin’ hot—“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” You grumble, angrily putting your coffee on the counter, and Taehyung furrows his eyebrows in confusion while Eunchae mentally slaps her forehead.

You turn your head to your friends, your eyes starting to sting more with every second that passes, “Uh, I gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

You quickly head to the bathroom, and you completely fall apart once the door closes. Your hand covers your mouth, hoping to muffle your small whimpers.

Your tears were a silent confession to the pain that had become your constant companion. You shouldn’t be like this, crying over a man that isn’t even close to being yours.

You know you aren’t his type, that people like you aren’t supposed to be with him—it’s against the law of nature, of the way life is written by destiny.

Taehyung is right—you aren’t his type. You are not Yuri; you were not even second to her beauty, you were the third, fourth, fifth, the one to hide behind the scenes as people like Yoongi and Yuri shined on stage.

That truth was a dagger, piercing through your soul with every heartbeat.

Yoongi doesn’t love you, his world doesn’t pulsate for you, his heart doesn’t flicker for your quirks.

You feel your phone buzz inside your pocket, and you grab it, only for your heart to sink even more when you see the name displayed on your screen.

‘Speaking of the devil himself,’ you think to yourself.

Yoongi 👎 : hey doll

Yoongi 👎 : what r u doing rn?

You sniffle, typing fast while drops of your silent tears stain your phone’s screen.

You : i’m at work

You : but i think i’ll be leaving early.

Yoongi 👎 is typing…..

Yoongi : everything ok?

You smile, your erratic nerves calming down as you wipe the drops of salty water on your cheeks.

You : i’m just not feeling too well

Yoongi 👎 : :(

You : why’d u ask?

Yoongi 👎 is typing…..

Yoongi 👎 : i’m bored as fuck. hobi and i were practising for friday but he left me here alone bc of some emergency with his gf.

Yoongi 👎 : i swear that woman is taking him away from me.

Yoongi 👎 : u wanna come here?

“So eager,” he chuckles as you waste no time scooting off his bed and getting onto your knees in front of him.

You merely huff in response as he brings his hand down to cup your chin, tilting it up to catch a glimpse of the look in your eyes. “You look so pretty. Did you dress up for me?” he asks, the corners of his lips curled up and his tongue peeking out to play with the lip rings in his lip.

Your brows pinch together at his question and your lips purse. You rub your lips together before answering, “You’re delusional.”

He shakes his head as his chest rumbles from another cocky chuckle. “You knew I was going to ask you to come over when I liked your story. You rarely ever dress up for your man.” His fingers dig under the hem of his sweatpants and slowly start tugging them down his legs, letting them pool at his ankles.

Son of a bitch.

Well, he’s right but you won’t admit that.

You don’t even have a boyfriend but whenever you’re seeing someone, he’ll refer to them as your boyfriend because he knows it pisses you off and he likes to push your buttons.

Your lustful eyes stare up at him, a frown still decorating your features and your expensive lip combo smeared all over your chin from the rough make-out session you just had with him.

You roll your eyes as you groan, “I have to leave soon so are you going to get to it or what?”

You silently watch as he palms himself through the fabric of his boxers, slightly hissing at the sensation. “You want it that bad?”

He brings his fingers decorated in silver rings to rest on top of your head, inching your head closer to his body whilst still making you look up at him.

“I’m just returning the favor,” you mumble, eyes innocently blinking up at him but there’s a fire in your eyes that he takes notice of.

“Favor?” he echoes, his free hand slowly tugging down his boxers. His erection almost smacks you in the face but you don’t comment on it, you simply glare at him. He sheepishly smiles at you , a silent apology in his books, as he wraps his hand around his shaft.

“Yeah. You ate me out last time and I couldn’t reciprocate because I had to leave.”

His hand freezes on your head and so does the hand on his dick. He slightly tilts his head to the side in confusion, thick brows pinched together. “You know I don’t ever expect you to reciprocate just because, right?”

Of course you know that. Despite him being rough stuff and manhandling you, he’s never done anything without your permission or made you uncomfortable.

You just really want to suck his dick.

You lean your head back, cranium pressed against the side of his mattress as you do. “I know that, Jungkook. I’m just not interested in letting you have the higher score when it comes to giving each other orgasms. Now, are you gonna let me suck you off or not?”

Higher score of orgasms might be childish but you just don’t want to admit that you want to suck him off that badly. Not after he told you within 2 hours of meeting him that you’d be putty in his hands, especially after you kept calling him delusional for it. Because a year later, despite seeing someone, you’re still getting dressed up whenever Jungkook texts you a simple ‘come over?’.

He stares at you for a moment longer, big black eyes that hold the entire galaxy in them and it makes you wonder if he even knows how pretty his eyes are.

It seems like he’s made up his mind because he gently taps his fingers against your lips, patiently waiting for you to open up.

You hold onto the eye contact with him as you part your lips, allowing him to rub your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb and gently pushing it further into your mouth until you wrap your lips around it.

He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he watches you carefully sucking on his thumb, your tongue swirling all around the tip and lathering his entire finger in your saliva whilst his other hand pumps his rock hard shaft. “You look so pretty with me in your mouth.”

You simply hum in response, not really clear on what you’re trying to say but he doesn’t care. He pulls his thumb out and smears all that saliva all over your lips before he taps the tip of his dick against your lips a few times, enjoying the way your brows pinch together in annoyance.

“I have to leave soon,” you whine, reminding him of the time you don't have.

He never asks you where to, though. Not even now, when it’s dark out and you can barely make out much in his dark room.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles before pushing down on your chin with his thumb to make you open your mouth, wasting no time as he slides right in. “So bossy. I should teach you some manners, Y/N.”

You angrily grunt at him, eyes furiously burning into his as he starts rocking his hips into your face. He keeps both hands on top of your head, making sure you stay still as he starts fucking your mouth.

“Shit,” he mumbles, watching how his dick disappears into your mouth and comes out lathered in your saliva. “Fuck, just like that.”

You attempt to blink your tears away as he starts hitting the back of your throat but to no avail, he simply keeps going with his head thrown back in pleasure and tears pour out of your eyes nonstop. “Holy shit, your mouth feels so fucking good.”

Moans and grunts leave his gorgeous throat, the silver chain prettily sitting on his collarbones sets every single one of your nerve endings alight.

You focus on breathing through your nose and relaxing your jaw but his hands continue to push your head further down his shaft, making it harder and harder for you to stay focused.

He adds pressure once your nose bumps against his pelvis, keeping you there as cuss words continue to fall from his lips.

You let him do that for as long as you can take it. You let a few seconds pass before you bring your hand up his leg and quickly tap his thigh twice which he immediately understands, causing him to pull out of your mouth instantly.

With a deep breath, you gasp for air as you lean back, cranium hitting the side of his mattress as you try to steady your breath and angrily glare up at him. You ignore the saliva that’s rolling down your chin, the mascara that has trickled down your cheeks and your clothes that are now covered in droplets of whatever fluids you’ve got in your mouth right now.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby. You know what the deal is when you run that pretty mouth.” He rubs your jaw with his right hand, the rest of his fingers resting against your cheek as he does so. the cold of his silver rings against your warm skin sends a shiver up your vertebrae and makes the way your underwear sticks to your sex almost uncomfortable.

He’s right, you know. He always threatens you with fucking your face when you’re running your mouth, something you do on purpose to see him like this. You just wanna see him like that.

Trying to keep his temper under control by laughing it away, rolling his tongue into his cheek, tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a frown that could crumble your self esteem in a few seconds. You love seeing him like that.

He’s right but he also knows you do it on purpose, he knows you like it like that, he knows it’s ultimately the reason why you always crawl back to him and he knows it’s why you always allow him to slither back into your life.

It all started one night out with your friends at a bar when one of your friends bumped into another friend, at the sane bar with a group of their own.

And there he was, the Devil himself, Jeon Jungkook. Black tapioca pearls staring you down like you owed him a thousand bucks.

It didn’t take long for him to ask his friends who you were. You made it clear you weren’t looking to fool around and he made it clear he could have you regretting those words. Funnily enough – not even a week later – you were with your bare ass in the air, face buried in his wet sheets, pathetically begging for him to fuck you harder.

A tap against your cheek rips you out of your thoughts.

When he decides you’ve breathed enough, he slides right back into your mouth. Starts thrusting. Hits the back of your throat. Holds your head to keep you still.

“I like what you did with your hair. Did you do it to come see me?” he asks with a shit eating grin on his face, fingers playing with the earrings you’ve decorated your ears with.

You merely grunt in response, glaring at him because you hate how he sees right through you. You did get dressed up for him, you did do your hair for him, you did wear your makeup how he likes it, you did choose an outfit you’re sure he’d like and you don’t even know why.

Or maybe you do. Not like it matters.

“Ah, so bad-mannered.” He picks up the pace of his thrusts, groaning every single time the tip of his dick slams into your soft palate. “Look at you now, unable to form a coherent sentence. I just wanna see you like that after you’ve ran your mouth all day.”

And he’s right, you’ve been provoking him all day. Ignoring his texts, giving him short answers, spamming your story with pictures of you being on a date with another man.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he glances down at you, staring right into your big eyes that are pleading for something you’re not even sure of. “So pretty. Taking it like I deserve it. You know that’s how I like it, huh?”

You simply blink at him, allowing the tears that are pooling in your waterline to roll down your cheeks. Your brows are still scrunched together, your throat making the nastiest noises as he mercilessly fucks your face like he’s got something to prove to you.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he moans, the pace of his thrusts never faltering in speed and precision. “You want me to cum all over that pretty face? Ruin all that hard work you put into looking so good for me?” He starts pushing you further down his shaft again, letting out a long, low cuss word as you start gagging on his dick.

“Because there’s no reason for you to go out looking that pretty for anyone else. You did it for me, didn’t you?” He pulls all the way out, black eyes glued to the long string of saliva that connects your swollen lips to his dick, not to mention all the drool rolling down your chin.

You huff, wiping some of it off your chin with the back of your hand but he doesn’t let you get away that easily.

He aims his dick right at your face, jerking himself off as he holds eye contact with you, brows furrowed and mouth parted as heavy breaths push past his lips. “Say it, say you only wanna look this good for me.”

Your eyes drop to the dick in his hand, watching as he jerks himself off to your face. Your eyes slowly shift back up to his, still not a single word or intention of compliance on your tongue for him.

“Say it, Y/N. I wanna hear you sa–”

You cut him off. “I only wanna look good for you.”

These words leaving your pretty lips, paired with your pretty eyes staring at him and your pretty lashes kissing your brow hairs is what has his hips stuttering in their rhythm as you finally send him over the edge, warm ropes of cum shooting right out of his dick and landing on your face.

You stick your tongue out, attempting to collect some of his cum as you innocently blink up at him, a stark contrast from how much your pretty face is being defiled.

He moans your name softly, eyes still staring into yours and you can tell he’s trying so hard not to close his eyes as he paints your cheeks, lips and chin white.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he whispers as he milks himself of every drop, unloading all over your face. Squelching sounds and heavy breathing are so loud in his quiet room, only the fan in his computer in the corner of his room makes noise.

His hand finally comes to a halt and he slaps his dick against your cheek and tongue a few more times before letting go of it.

“Damn,” he breathes out as he reaches for some tissues on his nightstand and carefully cleans your face. “You did so well.” He discards the dirty tissues in the trashcan that’s located in the corner of his room near his computer before he gently pulls you up to sit on the bed by your elbows.

“Sorry,” he chuckles as he takes a few more tissues to clean you up some more. “Want to take a shower with me?”

“No, thank you. I still need to be able to walk.” You put your phone up to check your reflection and take some tissues, cleaning yourself up before heading into the bathroom to thoroughly clean your face.

“What?” he says as he follows you into the bathroom. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that if I get into that shower with you, you’re gonna leave me sore as fuck.” You wash your face with cold water, careful not to get water in your falsies.

At this, he frowns. His eyes are staring at you through the mirror, arms crossed over his chest. “You know I won’t touch you unless you let me.”

“I know that,” you say as you look up and dry your face, automatically taking the fresh towel he hands you. Then, you turn to face him and his dark eyes shift to yours, intense gaze draping over you which sets your body ablaze. “The problem isn’t you, the problem is me,” you pause, “because I’ll always let you.”

His frown slowly fades and his teeth sink into his bottom lip to stifle a smirk, head arrogantly tilted to the side.

And with that, you walk up to him to press a quick kiss to his lips before walking back to his room to gather your purse. You head out of his apartment without another look over your shoulder because you know damn well that if you stay a moment longer, your resolve will melt faster than a hot knife slicing through butter.

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Oh, right. It’s been 7 months since you’ve confessed your feelings.

When he pulls back to be able to look at your face, he gently cups one of your cheeks, his right thumb softly rubbing back and forth on the apple of your cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

Your nose starts heating up and your eyes are stinging, indicating that you are seconds away from bawling your eyes out. His soft voice and the sincere look in his eyes are enough to make you never want anything else in this world than to stay in this moment right here.

“Thank you. You–”

Your cute moment is ruined when an arm wraps around your neck from the back and puts you in a headlock. You groan loudly, already knowing who it is, not by logical thinking or common sense like ‘who else would do this?’ but the familiar scent and the graduation gown he’s wearing. “Taehyung!”

He only giggles as he continues to hunch you over, arm still locked around your neck.

“Let me go!” you whine, slapping his arm and hitting anything you can reach.

He finally lets go of you and hits your shoulder as he does, easily dodging your vicious attack of hitting him with your phone, wanting to smack that shit-eating grin off his face.

You scowl at the younger man that saw Taehyung’s attack coming but didn’t do anything to stop it and just let you get torn out of his embrace.

“Jungkook! Why didn’t you stop him?!” you grumble as you stomp your way back to him, hitting his shoulder with a loud smack.

“Ow!” he screeches as he rubs his pained shoulder. “It just didn’t feel like my place to!”

You roll your eyes and huff childishly as you cross your arms over your chest. “It didn’t feel like your place to protect your girlfriend?”

His frown turns into a sheepish smile when the words reach his ears, dropping his hands to his sides. “Quit being dramatic. You weren’t in any danger.” He lazily wraps his arms around you but you don’t reciprocate the hug.

“Trust me, if you’re in danger,” he pauses as he pulls his arms back, holding his arms up in 90° angles to showcase his biceps. “I’m pulling out these bad boys.” He leans in to kiss each of them separately, wiggling his eyebrows at you after showing affection to his biceps — which he puts a lot of work in.

You roll your eyes once again but you can’t hide the stupid smile on your lips. You run your hand through his long soft locks, which he absolutely loves and it makes him lean in and steal a quick kiss.

“Gross,” Taehyung mumbles from behind you as he wiggles himself in between you and Jungkook, wrapping his arms around both your shoulders. “We’ll be late for our reservation, let’s go eat, please!”

•••

You had a blast at dinner with your friends and Jungkook, maybe a little too much fun. Joon and his boyfriend Jin were there, Jimin, Hoseok, Yoongi, Sooyeon and more.

Oh, yeah. You and Eunbi kind of fell out when she found out about you and Jungkook. It’s for the better, you suppose.

With the few drops of alcohol you managed to get in, it was enough for you to ring back home and give your parents a piece of your mind.

Telling them not to bother Taehyung anymore, telling them you’re staying to live in Seoul and you won’t be coming back, telling them you’re grateful for everything they’ve done but it’s time you live on your own and figure yourself out.

It took a whole lot of courage, something you probably would never have done in your sober state of mind but that’s okay. You did it, you finally did it.

But on your way back home — in the second-hand, used car Jungkook bought a few months ago — you realize something. As Jungkook silently manages the gear shift with his right hand and steers with his left, you glance over at him.

He’ll usually glance right back at you and smile or wink or whatever — but right now he’s just focusing on the road, seemingly in deep thought. As if on autopilot. You realize he hasn’t said a word since dinner and you’re confused. Worried, even.

“What’s wrong?” you quietly ask, reaching for his hand on the gear shift once he comes to a full stop in front of a red light.

You don’t know whether it’s your touch or your voice that snaps him out of his trance but his head turns to look at you, then back at the road. “Hm?” he hums, as if he didn’t hear you.

You idly blink at him a few times and quickly take your hand back, almost as if his hand burned you. “Are you mad at me?”

His head snaps back at you, a scrunch between his brows and his lips parted in confusion. “What? No. Why would I be?”

You shrug your shoulders and slouch in your seat. “I don’t know. You haven’t said a word since dinner.”

He sighs quietly and shakes his head. “It’s nothing, babe. I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

He doesn’t reply but instead takes an unfamiliar turn and now your confusion turns up a notch. “Where are we going?”

“I just need to do something really quick.”

He doesn’t say anything else and with the sun setting right now, it’s like you’re watching a movie with how mysterious he’s being.

You can’t help the confused frown on your face but he clearly doesn’t want to talk any further. You glance out the window, a pout on your lips and your arms immaturely crossed over your chest.

Hmph. Jerk.

A long and quiet 20 minutes later, he parks in front of a massive house.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and moves to unbuckle yours too.

“Jungkook, what the fuck is going on?” Your patience has finally run out, evident by the tone of your voice and the way your knee keeps bouncing up and down.

“Just follow me,” is all he says.

He gets out of his car and walks around the front of the vehicle, opening the door on your side.

You just sit there with your arms crossed, staring out the windshield in front of you like a child that was denied some sweets.

He sighs at your stubbornness, rubbing his hairline with one hand while he leans his arm on the hood of the car and looms over you. “I want you to meet someone. Come on,” he says, his hand held out for you to take.

You glance at his hand and then up at him. He simply stares at you and it’s clear he’s not going to say much else so you just comply and deeply exhale before placing your hand in his. He helps you out of the car and slams the car door shut behind you before walking up to the massive gate and ticking the gate code into the small keypad near the gate.

The gate opens up and you don’t even have the chance to ask what’s going on before he’s walking down the big path leading to the even bigger front door. It’s a giant beige house, decorated with plants, lights, pillars, statues, massive windows, vines and more.

The big brown door has a golden lion head on it but Jungkook doesn’t use the golden door knocker, instead rings the doorbell and bangs his fist against the wooden door. Glances around in disgust. Taps his foot impatiently against the concrete underneath his feet. Knocks on the door a few more times.

If you were honest for once in your life, you’d admit that Jungkook being impatient and having a temper is really hot.

But it doesn’t look like he wants to hear that right now so you stay quiet.

Not long after, the door swings open to reveal an older man, probably around his early 50s.

His face twists into confusion for a second before he seemingly recognizes Jungkook and then looks at you, gaze draping over you as if to ask who the fuck is in his presence.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, though. Just lets the uncomfortable silence stretch and it’s like you’re watching a sitcom without a laugh track in the background. Just awkward and uncomfortable.

The man finally speaks up. “You haven’t come to see your old man in years and you think you can just waltz in to introduce one of your girlfriends? I’m not paying for her tuition.”

Years?

Old man?

Wait. This is his…

You glance at Jungkook in confusion and the clenched jaw, the furrowed brows and the pure hatred in Jungkook’s eyes almost sends a shiver up your spine.

The man drags his gaze up and down your figure. “Does she even speak Korean?”

You raise your eyebrows in offense. “My Korean is good, I can understand you just fine.” Thank you very much, old fart.

Through gritted teeth, Jungkook spits, “I’m not here to introduce anyone to you. I’m here to tell you to stop sending me money. I don’t want it.”

You glance at Jungkook before back at the man, who you now realize is Jungkook’s greatest enemy, his father.

“Ha,” the older man chuckles. “If you don’t want my money, that’s fine by me. How will you pay for school, though? You have a year left.” He sounds so smug and unapologetic and if you didn’t already dislike the man because of the stories Jungkook has told you, you definitely hate his fucking guts now.

Jungkook’s response is immediate, as if he knew his father was going to say that and he rehearsed his response in a mirror. “With my mom’s inheritance. And you’re gonna give me what’s rightfully mine. If you don’t, I will get the law involved.”

Your eyes widen at how much venom Jungkook’s voice carries, his hand tightly squeezing yours as he stares his father down.

His father merely blinks at him and if he’s shocked, he doesn’t show it.

“Threatening to sue your father? I raised you better than that–”

“You didn’t raise me at all.”

Oh, it’s getting… it’s getting a little intense now. You’re not sure you even want to be here in this moment.

But you know Jungkook needs you right now.

You gently tug on his hand, indicating he should wrap up what he came here to do.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you but squeezes your hand in return, letting you know that he’s aware. That he hears you loud and clear, even when you’re not speaking.

Something he’s always been good at.

You glance back at the man, realizing it’s you he’s staring down now. He spits, “Did you put him up to this?”

Your eyes go big at the accusation and you part your lips to reply but Jungkook’s already speaking for you. “Don’t address her. She didn’t do anything of the sort.”

But then, your blood runs cold.

Did Jungkook get inspired by your phone call home? Standing up to your parents? Living your life the way you want to?

You glance at Jungkook but he’s still staring his father down, standing his ground and not a single crack in his demeanor to allow his father to slither in and manipulate him.

He may have gotten away with it back when Jungkook was a helpless 15 year old boy that didn’t know how to cook eggs but not now. Not anymore.

His father must have noticed the determination in Jungkook’s eyes as well because he simply sighs. “Alright, then. At least you’ve got some of that business in you I always wanted you to have.”

Jungkook visibly relaxes, his hand not squeezing yours so tightly anymore.

“And I came for one more thing,” Jungkook says as he lets go of your hand and pushes the door further open, disappearing into the massive mansion and leaving you alone with his father.

Your hand is cold now. Freezing. Your fingers tingle, in need of Jungkook’s touch.

It’s quiet and his father is simply staring at you, seemingly trying to get you to fall dead from just his glare. You try to avoid eye contact with him at all costs but he doesn’t let you get off that easily when he suddenly decides he wants to make conversation with you.

“He’s just going to end up leaving you or hurting you, you know.” The words leave his father’s mouth in a neutral tone, as if he’s really just warning you.

And you can’t even begin to explain how quickly your blood starts boiling.

“He’s not like you,” you snap, a scowl slowly starting to form on your face. “He’ll never be like you.”

His eyes squint at you, decorated by a stern frown on his brows and you’re glad Jungkook looks nothing like his father.

You nervously look around, rubbing your own arms to comfort yourself. You hope Jungkook just hurries up so you don’t have to stand here for much longer. The tension is so heavy, you’re considering walking back to the car on your own because you actually can’t stand this.

But that’s when Jungkook arrives at the front door again, holding a box the size of a shoebox and…

Is that a dog?

“Come on, boy,” Jungkook mutters. “I want you to meet someone,” he says to the dog. The dobermann runs out the front door as Jungkook steps out, turning to look at his father one last time.

Ah. That’s who he wanted you to meet.

“You can’t just take Bam.” Mr. Jeon uncrosses his arms once he realizes what’s going on.

Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance. “I can and I will. He’s mine anyways, you were just supposed to take care of him until I graduated. I’ve decided I want him now.” Jungkook shifts the box to hold it with one arm while his other reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he starts walking down the path leading to the gate.

“Don’t come crawling back when you need me, son,” his father says, loud enough for you two to hear. “I never want to see your fucking face again.”

Jungkook abruptly stops in his tracks and takes a second before turning around, facing his father while clueless Bam keeps excitedly running in circles around you two. “The feeling’s mutual, dad.”

He looks nonchalant as he says it, no emotion in his tone and you almost believe him but your eyes don’t miss the way his grip on the box has tightened, his knuckles have turned white, his hand in yours is trembling, ultimately betraying himself and his nonchalance about the situation.

“Goodbye,” is all Jungkook says before turning on his heels again and leaving his father to idly stare at his son’s retreating back.

You stay quiet as you follow Jungkook to the car again, his hand tugging you forwards and his eyes making sure that Bam is following you two. Jungkook leads you both to the car, making Bam get in the backseat as he puts the box down carefully next to Bam, before helping you get in the passenger’s seat.

He starts the car without another glance at the mansion and slowly accelerates. You glance over your shoulder to look at his father in the distance one last time, who’s still standing in the doorway of his — and once Jungkook’s — home. He also has a neutral expression on his face but his body language betrays him when your eyes take notice of his shoulders that are slouched in defeat.

And when you look back at Jungkook’s tense jaw and furrowed brows, you can tell that neither of them wanted this.

You suppose not every story has a happy ending.

The rest of the ride home is silent.

•••

Upon your arrival to Jungkook’s apartment, you help Bam get out of the car and give him a few scratches and rubs, introducing yourself to him whilst Jungkook takes the box into his hands. You kind of wonder what’s inside but you don’t want to ask just yet.

You suppose he went to his own room. Got some of his belongings. Maybe they’re toys for Bam. Who knows?

He unlocks the front door and helps you two inside, kicking his shoes off. He walks further in and places the box on the coffee table before turning to Bam, who is wagging his tail and running circles around the living room.

Jungkook takes this time to drop to his knees and welcome Bam with a big hug and kisses to his forehead, rubbing his back and belly. He talks to him in his little baby voice and it makes you quietly chuckle but you can’t help but have this heaviness clouding your heart.

Are you the reason Jungkook decided to break off all contact with his only family?

When he lets Bam go to let him explore on his own, he goes to sit down on the couch and pull the box toward him from where he’s seated.

You approach him and sit next to him, glancing down at the box in his lap.

He opens it and all you’re met with are Playstation and Xbox games. You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes, your boyfriend is a gamer after all.

But then he piles all the cases and lifts them out of the box, placing them nearly on the table. Your eyes return to the inside of the box and that’s when you catch a glimpse of several photographs. A child and a woman.

A boy and a woman that looks insanely familiar to you.

And it instantly dawns on you that these are pictures of him and his mother.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you glance at the pictures, eyeing the way his fingers dive into the box to take a few of them out. He stays quiet as he looks at each of them individually and you just stay next to him, taking the box from him and putting it on the table again.

He looks so much like his mother, it’s almost eery.

His father’s words instantly come rushing back to your head.

I never want to see your fucking face again.

Fuck.

Did he distance himself from Jungkook because Jungkook reminds him of his deceased wife?

A picture of him and his mother at some amusement park. One of Jungkook eating cotton candy, his mother holding a stuffed animal. Them in a restaurant. Them at a museum. A park. A waterslide. On a couch. In a kitchen. Having fun.

It also quickly dawns on you that it must have been his father that took all of these pictures.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see him again?” you quietly ask, glancing at his side profile. His long hair falls over his cheeks so you gently tuck it behind his ear, to be able to look at him better but he hasn’t looked up from the photographs.

“Kook,” you whisper, grazing the shell of his ear, tracing down to his earlobe and rubbing it in between your fingers.

He doesn’t respond and you decide to stop pushing. If he wants to talk about it, he will.

However, it isn’t long until he drops the photographs back into the box and turns to you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“Oh, baby,” you mumble as you wrap your arms around him as well, holding him close. Soft sobs reach your ears and you wish there was more you could do for the broken boy in your arms.

You gently rub his back and draw circles through the fabric of his shirt. “Shh.” You stroke the back of his head, playing with his long wavy locks. “I’ve got you.”

Bam, as if he sensed his owner’s distress, joins you two by the couch, resting his snout on the edge of the sofa’s cushion next to Jungkook’s thighs.

You continue to comfort Jungkook, pressing soft kisses to his temple and hair, trying so hard not to get emotional right now. You need to comfort Jungkook now, not the other way around.

“I never wanted it to be this way,” he manages to mumble through sobs, his entire body trembling in your embrace.

“I know you didn’t.”

“Do you think he hates me?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Was I out of line?”

“No, you weren’t.”

“How? I haven’t seen him in years and I just decide to show up to tell him I never want to see him again.”

You slowly pull back. Cup his wet cheeks. Wipe away some of his tears with your thumbs. “The same can be said about him, you know.”

He stares into your eyes as if to search for sincerity but you’ve never been more geniune in your life, staring back without a single crack or tear in your demeanor and opinion.

He sniffles softly and nods his head, bringing his hand up to wipe away some of the tears with the back of his hand.

You lean forwards and softly peck his lips, tasting his salty tears on them.

When you pull back from the peck, his lips are instantaneously back on yours. It’s a bit rough and needy but you suppose it’s because of his state right now. You try to pull back from the kiss but Jungkook simply keeps going, chasing your lips but you turn your face to the side to deny him of the kiss.

“Are you okay? Done talking?” you ask him breathlessly as he continues to kiss down your jaw and neck, coating your collarbones in his kisses.

He nods his head quickly and kisses back up to your lips. “I just need to forget about everything. I need to feel you, I need to forget about what just happened,” he says in between kisses, his hands firmly holding your waist as if he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers.

“Okay,” you whisper in response, allowing him to kiss you some more.

“We should get to the bed, Jungkook,” you mumble against his lips. “We don’t want to make a mess on your couch like we did mine.”

Yeah. About that.

After Jungkook fulfilled his side of the deal, which was buying you a couch in return for teaching him how to cook, you and Jungkook went at it like fucking dogs on that couch and had to get it cleaned 2 weeks after he bought it. Fucking horndogs.

He simply rises to his feet and tugs you along by your hand, leading you to his bedroom.

Bam quickly follows but Jungkook quietly tells him that ‘this is not for children’s eyes’ as he closes the door on his beloved dog.

He pulls you to the bed but you’re faster, pushing him to sit down on the edge of the bed. He looks up at you in anticipation, wetting his lips.

You slowly tug your dress down your body, letting it pool around your ankles as you move to unclasp your bra and toss it somewhere on the floor. You bring your hand to his mouth, tapping his lips in order to tell him to open up.

He obeys, parting his lips and welcoming your index and middle finger into his mouth. He holds eye contact with you as he sucks sensually, wrapping his lips around your fingers. Slides his tongue in between them. Lathers them in his saliva. Stares at you like you’re the world and he’s as insignificant as a leaf.

You let him suck for a few more moments before taking your fingers back, using your wet fingers to wet your nipple, lathering it in his saliva and stimulating yourself. You softly pinch your own nipple. Roll it around. Feel it harden under your touch.

His eyes drop down to your chest instantly, watching as you use his saliva to pleasure yourself and the growing bulge in his pants doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You bring your other hand to lift his chin to look back into your eyes. You slowly lower yourself onto his lap, straddling his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck.

He looks up at you, his cold hands traveling up your bare back to hold your waist firmly. Watches as goosebumps pop out of the upper layer of your skin. Sighs in content. Drops his hands to your hips.

You gently roll your hips into him, a needy moan leaving your lips at the sensation. The thin fabric of your panties does a terrible job of keeping outsiders out, already making you feel like he’s straight up sliding his dick in between your folds.

He kisses down your collarbones to the swell of your breast before taking the other nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking all around it until he’s satisfied.

You gently push him back by his shoulders and he lets you, staring up at you with hooded eyes. You reach for the pillows and prop them up behind his head before you lean forwards, continuing to roll your hips and grind into his hardening crotch.

Your lips meet his in a needy kiss, making out for what seems like hours and you never stop grinding into him because it just feels too good.

Pulling away from the kiss, you glance down at a breathless Jungkook, lips swollen, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You sit up and move back on his thighs as you reach for the button and zipper on his slacks.

He glances down and grunts quietly. “You’ve soaked through my slacks.”

You aim your gaze at where he’s looking at, instantly noticing the wet patch you’ve created on his beige slacks. Heat rises to your already hot cheeks.

“Oh, sorry,” you breathe out, fidgeting with his belt.

He huffs, “Sorry? It’s hot as fuck. You make me so fucking hard.”

You wet your lips and roll off him, helping him out of his slacks and his dress shirt. You move to palm him through his boxers but he stops you, gripping your wrist tightly.

“I need to fuck you,” is all he says when he pulls you down onto the mattress, rolling you over so you’re on your back with your head comfortably on the pillows.

He palms himself through his boxers when he sees you sprawled out in front of him, naked and exposed. His eyes trail down to your panties, noticing the impossible-to-ignore wetness that makes your panties stick to your sex.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispers as he moves to tug your panties down your legs, groaning to himself when a single string of your slick stays attached to your panties, connecting them to your pussy.

“Who are you this wet for?” he asks as he tosses your panties aside, eyes still glued to your attention-seeking sex while he palms himself.

You hum softly as you pretend to think about your answer to tease him but he doesn’t seem to be paying attention, eyes still fixed on your pussy.

You decide to push his buttons. “I’ve kinda been fantasizing about Jimin lately.”

His eyes instantly shoot up to yours, his hand pausing on his crotch as he stares at you with squinted eyes.

You can’t help it, the corners of your lips start curling up. You begin, “I just–”

Smack.

“Ow!” you gasp, the heat from his slap spreading through the side of your thigh. Your eyes shift to your thigh, your hand rubbing where he slapped you on your skin. “What was that for?”

You can’t say you didn’t expect that, though.

“For not answering my question.” His eyes drop down to your pussy again, fingers gently sliding in between your slick folds.

You whine, “But I did answer your question.”

Smack.

The sharp gasp that rips through your throat this time is out of surprise. That’s because this time, his hand came down to your sensitive pussy in a slap, the wetness spreading all over your sex. “Ow!”

“Are you gonna continue being a brat or do you want to be fucked like you deserve it?” He ditches his boxers, tossing them off the mattress and at the growing pile of clothes on the floor near his bed.

You eye his erection, tip red and oozing precum. Screaming for attention.

He lines himself up at your sex, rubbing his head up and down your slit.

You retort, “I always deserve it.”

He bitterly chuckles, “Don’t piss me off, Y/N. You think you deserve it after what you just said?”

The corners of your lips curl upwards, a twisted grin on your lips as you glance up at him with innocent eyes. “Why don’t you just fuck me like you hate me, then? If I piss you off so much.”

He shakes his head as he fully pushes into you, disappointed at himself for always caving and always giving you what you want but the gasp that leaves you at the intrusion satisfies him. “I do hate you,” he mumbles as he bottoms out, a grunt leaving his throat soon after.

You squeal quietly at being filled to the fucking brim, the burning stretch in your walls makes tears prick in your eyes. You wait a few more moments to get used to the feeling again before you decide to provoke him again. “Hm, I hate you too,” you reply, your breath heavy.

“Oh yeah?” he grumbles as he pulls out, keeping the tip of his dick inside before slamming all the way back in, watching your face as you cry out under him.

“Yeah, I hate you so much,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

He kisses your cheeks so gently, a stark contrast from the rough pounding of his hips and the mean words spilling from his lips. “I hate you too. So fucking much,” he mumbles into your ear, a soft moan following his words that clearly betray him as he continues to snap his hips into yours.

You’re a moaning mess under him, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him caged and trapped within your grasp. With your claws and fangs sunken into his soul.

You never want to let him go.

And maybe those actions and feelings betray you too.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he murmurs before slowly leaning back and pushing both your legs back toward your torso, hooking them around his arms to spread you out fully as he gets back to fucking you good.

“Shit,” you cry out at the new position, pressing your head further into the pillows and arching your back off the mattress. “Fuck, Jungkook.”

He nods as he kisses your thighs and knees, still consistently sliding his dick in and out of you.

The sinful sounds such as skin slapping and wetness squelching enhances your sensitivity even more, moans continuously spilling out of you.

“Who are you this wet for?” he repeats, eyes intently staring down into yours as if to warn you about your answer.

You have no motivation to keep provoking him, though. Not when he’s fucking you this good. “You,” you mumble.

“Who?” he repeats and you’re so sure he heard you but that doesn’t matter to him. He starts slamming his hips harder into yours when you’re not responding to his question quick enough.

“You, fuck!” you cry out, your poor pussy getting pummeled by his entire weight as his continues to harshly fuck into you.

“Good girl. My good fuckin’ girl,” he whispers as he presses his lips against yours. “Rub your clit for me, let’s cum together.” He speaks to you in between kisses, lazy open-mouthed kisses that have you weak, no strength to battle him right now.

You obediently move your hand down your body and start rubbing at your clit in quick circles. Eyes squeezed shut. Moans spilling from you that Jungkook simply swallows. Toes curling. Tears rolling down your temples and into your hairline.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he grunts and you know he’s close to his climax with the way his breath is getting even heavier.

You push yourself to your high but Jungkook can’t hold on for much longer as he starts to spill inside of you. Paints your walls with his cum. Marks his territory. Claims you as his.

Quiet moans leave his lips as he milks himself of every drop inside of you, pumping you full of his load.

You quietly grunt as you take what he gives you but your fingers never falter in speed and precision. Instead, seeing him on top of you, pressing his lips sloppily to yours as he cums and continues to moan into your mouth is enough to send you over the edge.

You clench around him continuously as your climax hits you, dropping onto you like a pile of fucking bricks. Jungkook picking the pace of his thrusts back up to fuck you through your orgasm ultimately makes it last that much longer, tears and moans involuntarily spilling out of you.

“Oh, shit,” you moan as you ride out your high, eyes tightly shut and fingers starting to slow down.

“Damn,” he whispers as he pulls out, staying on top of you as he tries to catch his breath.

His big black eyes search yours for a brief second, an unreadable expression on his face.

You reach up, brushing his hair out of his face with your clean hand. “What’s on your mind?” you whisper, running a hand through his gorgeous hair.

He sighs as he rolls off of you, disappearing into the hall until he’s back with a damp towel. He quietly cleans you up and stays quiet throughout it before laying down beside you and cuddling up to you. Lies on his back. Pulls you onto his chest.

“I love you.”

Oh.

You idly blink at him, his words take too long to process.

Neither of you have really said this before.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to say it back. Just wanted you to know.”

You blink again, this time staring at him like he’s grown a second head until you suddenly start chuckling.

His brows pinch together at your giggles, lips pressed into a thin line. “What’s so funny?”

You simply shrug your shoulders, moving to lean your chin on his bare chest as you glance up at him. “Nothing, just…”

He impatiently clicks his tongue, staring down at you. “Just what?”

You can’t help but smirk as you say, “You were so sure I was going to wrap around your finger first. Look at you now.”

He continues to scowl at you until the words leave your lips. His eyes visibly soften, his lips quivering into a pout to stop himself from smiling.

He quietly chuckles as he says, “Well, I guess you’re the winner then.”

You hum in response, a soft smile on your lips. “I guess I am.”

You: 1.

Jungkook: 0.

The end.

Wait, no. Not yet. It seems like Jungkook has something else to say.

“Well, technically,” he pauses, “I have the best, most gorgeous girlfriend on the planet. I’m the winner after all.”

Hm. Well, you suppose you’ll give him that.

“Well then,” you pause. “I love you too.”

He tries to keep a neutral expression but he can’t help himself when the biggest smile stretches onto his lips, flashing you his bunny teeth and you’ve never seen him smile this wide, so wide his eyes disappear behind his eyelids.

You: 1.

Jungkook: 1.

The end.

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The words hang heavy in the air between you.

It’s the middle of January and you’re both bundled up in the warmest clothes you own seated next to each other on a park bench.

The very park the two of you had your first kiss in, only 16 and Park Jimin had taken you on the best date you’d ever been on. A picnic, even though it was the middle of January, he thought it’d be romantic, never mind it was so cold you both had runny noses by the end of it. He kissed you for the first time that night, so gently it almost broke your heart, and four years later he brought you back there on the very same day to propose.

Everyone had always said you two were too young to get married, what did you even know about love yet? You were just kids. You think of those people now as you sit next to him in that very same park-- three years later down to the very same day, as he gently breaks your heart all over again.

“What?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is rueful, it tastes bitter on your tongue.

You could reach your finger out and wrap it around his like you’d done a thousand times, the action used to feel as familiar as breathing but now that hairs breadth of distance has never felt larger. You can’t even remember the last time you had crossed that distance, an invisible line keeping you from him.

You turn to look at him, he stares ahead watching the fall of snow.

“Do you love me?” You ask.

“Of course I love you,” He smiles at you, far too kind for the words leaving his lips, “I’m not in love with you. I don’t think I have been for awhile.”

The world is quiet again, tears burning tracks down your cold cheeks as you look away from him.

He breaks the silence again, “I don’t think you’re in love with me anymore either.”

You both sit in the words, sitting in your own hurt. You don’t know when it happened but somewhere along the way his words had become true. After seven years together, three years of being married, the two of you had fallen out of love.

“Happy anniversary.” You say.

“Happy anniversary.” He responds, and you both sit in a heavy silence and watch the falling snow.

—

You both carry on like the conversation never happened, but now there’s an understanding to this space between you two.

You don’t stop to wonder when the last time you’d had sex was, you don’t bother asking Jimin if he’ll be home for dinner, you never ask if he wants to come out with your friends. You ignore the way that these things had been common place for quite sometime, when had you fallen out of love?

It’s not that you had woken up one day and thought I don’t love my husband. It was as slow as the process as falling in love, the love you built together slowly weathering away until all was left was a decaying foundation.

One day when washing the dishes you had taken off your wedding ring and never put it back on without even thinking about it. The diamond symbolic of your love had at some point become just a diamond. It holds the familiarity of favorite jewelry that you eventually grow out of, much like the other jewels your husband had gifted you over the years, loved and worn, shown off to everyone you know, and now collecting dust in a drawer somewhere.

You hadn’t even noticed when he stopped wearing his.

You weren’t getting divorced, you just weren’t in love. And you were both okay with it.

The familiarity of being together outweighing the distance between you. No you weren’t in love but you would still be together.

You and Jimin, Jimin and you, it’s the way it’s always been, and the way it will always be.

At least that’s what you thought.

It’s nearing June and the beginning of Summer’s heat is sticking to your skin when your husband comes home.

You greet him like you always do, and instead of making his way to his office or to the bedroom to get dressed and going out with his friends, he joins you on the couch.

“I want a divorce.” Jimin says, he says it as casually as if he was telling you that ‘it looks like rain,’ ‘I want sushi for dinner,’ or ‘My mom called today.’ He somehow makes it sound like a general every day statement.

And that’s the first time you two fight, in a way you never had in all those years.

You had arguments of course, but none of them could compare to this.

He met someone, no he didn’t cheat on you, he insists, but he wants to get divorced before he could really explore if there could be something there.

You had screamed and raged, he didn’t even want to try and save the marriage, but really had you either? Neither of you had changed anything since that day in January, you had been too comfortable, too complacent.

It didn’t matter now, not when you were so angry, the two of you far too similar, getting hurt and lashing out with words dipped in poison cutting where you know it will hurt most.

Jimin had stayed the night at Taehyung’s house that night, and every night following.

You had stayed at home and cried and drank and tore everything and yourself apart until Jungkook came by and tried to help you hold all the pieces together.

—

The divorce is finalized in January, the process long and exhausting.

You hadn’t even been paying attention to the date when you make your way to that very same park, not knowing it’s been exactly eight years down to the day.

The tears fall without you noticing and every breath of the cold air burns in your chest.

The you of all those years couldn’t imagine you getting divorce, couldn’t even fathom a future where you would end up like this. You and Jimin were supposed to be taking your kids to school years from now, you were supposed to be happy, in love, together.

The crunch of snow takes you out of your head, you turn to see Jungkook making his way towards you and you want to cry again but for a different reason.

Neither of you say anything as he takes a seat next to you, you lean your head on his shoulder.

“He hates me.” You break the silence, the words coming out like a gasp for air.

“He doesn’t hate you.” Jungkook takes your hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I was so mean,” You insist, giving your best friend a pleading gaze, not sure if you’re begging him to agree with you, that you’re the problem or for him to deny it and make your hurt go away.

“So was he,” He kisses your forehead, “I don’t think either of you were yourselves by the end of that.”

You nod, thinking about how to form the words for this feeling that has been lingering around you since this whole thing begun, “I don’t know who I am anymore, it’s always been, Jimin and me. I’ve never been, just me. I don’t know how to be by myself.”

“Well,” He says, as he thinks over your words, “You’ve still got me and I’m here to stay. I’ll be there while you figure out who you are, I promise.”

Your eyes tear up and you hug him as tightly as you can.

“You really are my best friend, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you too, bubs.” He says as he holds you in his arms, and then lets out a little chuckle like he can’t help himself, “I promise I won’t make too much fun of you for saying that when you’re not sad anymore.”

You laugh too, and remove yourself from his arms.

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It's barely 8am and your best friend is standing at your door. He's in an oversized sweater and grey sweats and running shoes, he clearly had been out for his morning walk with the absolute best boy in the world.

"Good morning, Bammie.” In contrast to the flat tone that you had greeted Jungkook with you're nothing but excited while greeting his dog.

You reach down to unhook him from his leash giving him all the pets and kisses he deserves.

"Aren't you just my sweet boy.” You give him head scratches letting your nails rake through the fur at the top of his head and you can't help but giggle at the way the dog relaxes at your actions. He's so much like his owner.

Speaking of him, "She's a traitor Bam, don't let her deceive you.”

You had been so absorbed with showering Bam in affection you hadn't even noticed Jungkook heading to your kitchen until he came back. A glass of water in one hand and the water bowl and bag of treats you keep stocked for Bam in the other.

"Traitor," You scoff from your spot on the floor, the overgrown puppy practically laying in your lap. "That's a little dramatic don't you think."

"Not if you're fuu-” Jungkook pauses in his sentence and makes an exaggerated disgusted face, "I can't even say it. If you're doing that, with Namjoon-hyung.”

"I'm not doing anything with Namjoon-hyung," Both of your noses scrunch up at the Hyung, the word sounding foreign on your tongue. There's a moment of silence except the noise of Bam's panting. Jungkook sets the bowl of water on the ground and the dog immediately leaves your lap to drink with vigor.

"Then why did Taehyung say he heard you and HeeWon talking about sleeping with him, ” His tone is downright accusatory and he looks at you like you've committed one of the biggest betrayals — like that time he lied to the girl he was dating and said he had a work thing but really he was playing video games with Jin and you had accidentally let the truth slip.

“Because HeeWon's a horny freak,” You respond honestly, maybe too honestly by the curious gaze on Jungkook's face. Reminder to self to never let the two of them meet. “I just told her about the whole baby thing and how I was thinking about asking Namjoon-"

"No.” Jungkook cuts you off again, pout firmly on his face and arms crossed.

"Excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow in response.

“You're not allowed.”

You scoff and finally push yourself off the floor, fighting the urge to wipe the dog fur from your clothes and just make your way to Jungkook and give him the meanest glare you can muster.

"Enough with the shit, Jeon. I'm a grown ass woman, there's no "not allowed" I can do whatever the fuck I want to—" You're on your tip toes trying to make yourself as big as possible, filled with a new kind of anger you hadn't felt towards your best friend in such a long time.

"You absolutely can, ” He agrees cutting you off, he nods his head again biting his lip as he thinks before continuing, “except for this.”

“Why not?“ The laugh that comes out is bitter, “You won't do it? I can't even ask Namjoon, never mind the fact that I wasn't even going to have sex–”

Jungkook grimaces at your words, hearing Namjoon and Sex in the same sentence was not something he ever wanted to hear from your mouth. “I wanna think about it.” He cuts you off again.

“Stop cutting me off, you ass-” You cut yourself off this time, "What…?"

"I want to think about it, y'know being your baby daddy.” He grins.

"Don't say it like that,” You deflate, anger leaving you like it was never there, your back on your flat feet and you stare at Jungkook with a curious gaze. “But," You pause and exhale through your nose. “Okay.”

“Okay.“ He nods at you. And you nod back. The room suddenly too quiet, Bam staring at you two from the couch. Eyes wide and eerily familiar.

“Alright repeat after me, ” Jungkook breaks the tension and you look back to him as he raises his right hand as if he's making a vow, and you tiredly repeat the action, “I will not have sex with Kim Namjoon.”

“Jungkook will not have sex with Kim Namjoon.”

“Aish, you brat." He clicks his tongue at you and you can't stop the laugh that slips out, “Do it right.”

You sigh but ultimately comply with his request, “I won't have sex with Kim Namjoon.”