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“Too much—Shit Yoongi, no more” your thighs quiver, orgasm lingering as he pulls the vibrator away from your clit, poor little thing, swollen. Throbbing with that aching sort of want as your pussy dribbles another pitiful wad of slick onto the sheets.

He leans down lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, tongue laving over as your orgasm slowly ebbs away, sparks of overstimulation tingling down your legs, cunt clenching around nothing.

He presses the vibrator over your entrance, pussy lips parting around the silicone as he presses it ever so gently past your walls.

“Yoongi” you whine, fingers tangling into his hair as he continues to suck at your clit, hips rutting up into his face as you continue to chase the edging pleasure, he’s pulling out of you.

He hums, pitiful moan dripping thick off your tongue at the added vibration, arousal seeping out of your pussy over the silicone toy, dripping over his fingers, skin slicked shiny.

He thrusts the toy a little further into you, angling it upwards ever so slightly.

Yoongi’s lips press a kiss over your clit before he’s pulling away, tongue cleaning the mess you made of his face as his eyes glaze over your pussy. Creamy slick slipping down you perineum, poor little pussy clenching around the vibrator, a mean little smile tugging at Yoongi’s lips.

He presses one of the buttons on the side, your mouth falling open, unfiltered moan clawing up your throat, overstimulated pussy pulsating around the toy.

“Fuck—” you cry, “s’ too much” tears cling to your waterline, fingers digging into the sheets below you, hips bucking upwards.

“Cum again for me, baby” he murmurs, presses a kiss over your sweat-slicked chest, lips ghosting over your nipple.

He thrusts the vibrator into you, knuckles nudging against your sensitive little bud with every press into you.

“Can’t” you whine, thighs quivering, snapping closed around his hand.

“Yes you can, always so pretty when your poor little cunt is ruined” his tongue runs over your nipple.

Your mouth falls open, world burning white for a moment as you tip over the edge, orgasm shaking your body. Clawing up your spine as your legs shake, Yoongi’s fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he holds them open, deep reverberate of his voice barely penetrating your ears as he tells you how pretty you are.

You blink away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks, Yoongi’s thumb brushing over your damp cheek.

“You here with me?” he asks, hint of a smile on his face. The prideful kind, the one where you know he would be sure to remind you of this moment in the coming days.

You nod, swallowing.

Pussy swollen, aftereffects of the vibrator still tingling down your body, stomach tensing as your orgasm slowly slips away, gentle hum of what was once there still sends hints of pleasure throughout your body. Dopamine hazed mind slowly processing the press of Yoongi’s cockhead against your entrance.

“Think you can give me one more?” he presses a kiss to your jaw, angling his cock through your folds.

The tip nudges against your clit, hips jutting upwards, slightest of touch enough stimulation to have slick leaking out of you.

You nod, arms slipping around his neck as you pull his body closer to yours.

“Words, baby. Need to hear you” he presses another kiss to your cheek.

“One more” you nod, “I won’t last long”

He hums, fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips as he pulls your body over his thighs a little. Pretty fingers wrapping around his length before he’s pressing over your entrance.

Your back arches as he splits you open, cunt pulled wide over the flared head before he’s sinking into you, hips rolling forward; seemingly not in a rush.

His thumb gently brushes over your clit, cunt pulsating around him as the sparks of delicious pain mingled pleasure slips down the length of your body.

He needs no warning when you’re about to cum, hips jackhammering into you, angled perfectly as he presses you further and further towards another orgasm.

“Shit Yoongi” you curse, feeling it build within your stomach, your hands pressing against his stomach as he ruts his thick cock into you.

“Come on, pretty” he grunts, head tipped back at his own pleasure.

He just about catches sight of it, cock slipping out of you as his fingers rub over your pussy as you squirt over yourself, some of his catching his cock. Your hips jolt upwards as he continues to rub your clit, another spurt of cum wetting his hand as you moan his name, mind fully fucked as overestimated pleasure buzzes beneath your skin.

You barely register Yoongi jacking himself off over you, tugging his hard cock at the sight of you fucked out body. Pussy lips swollen and pitiful little clit throbbing, wet slicked shiny and sticky with your arousal, creamy cum clinging to your folds.

You moan when you feel his cum shoot against your pussy lips, running his cockhead through your folds, smearing his release over your soiled cunt.

“Always such a good girl for me” he lets the final spurt of his cum coat your pussy, “Letting me make you feel good, mind nothing more than mine to ruin”

"You've got such beautiful nipples," Yoongi grunted as he looked up at you, your whole body heating as he took one of your nipples between his fingers and pinched it gently making you squeal out just a little. Your eyes rolled back a little as you felt your boyfriend take your nipple back into his mouth, you didn't want him to stop. You never wanted him to stop. You tangled your fingers into his hair, moaning louder as you tried your best to control your breathing.

"Shit," You hiss out as your thighs rubbed together trying to cause a little friction between them but instead you reached down to take Yoongis cock in your hand. Pumping it slowly as he let out a little grunt against your nipple,

"Baby," He groans out, rolling his hips into your hand a little, you loved being able to please him while he was pleasing you since it seemed to drive him crazier. 

"I want to please you too," You whined out at him as he began flicking his tongue over your nipple again and again your eyes squeezing shut as you pumped him faster in your hand. Yoongi squeezed your other nipple as he sucked on the other one, smirking around your breast as he watched you. 

He loved knowing what he could do to you simply by sucking on your tits, he knew how to get you to cum and all for him.

"Y-Yoongi," You moan out as he pushes your breasts close together, dragging his tongue over both of your nipples as he does it again and again, harder this time as you beg him to keep going.

"Holy fuck!" You cry out as he twirls his tongue around your nipples, sucking harsher this time as you felt yourself getting closer to your release.

"Please...Please don't stop," You begged further egging Yoongi on as he moved faster, sucking harsher until your whole body exploded. Your orgasm hits you like waves sending your body into some small spasms. Yoongi chuckles to himself, biting down on your nipples softly as you let out a frustrated whimper at him.

"We need to keep doing that," You moaned out at him as you moved away from him, kneeling beside him before taking his cock into your mouth. Yoongi instantly rolled his head back against the sheets and let out the loudest moan,

"God, your mouth feels incredible." His hands moved to the rest of the back of your neck, just gently holding you as you took him to the back of your throat gagging around him.

"Just..Just like that," He breathes out as you take the rest of his cock into your hand and began to pump softly, twisting your hand ever so slightly as he grunts out your name. You felt him twitch against your tongue making you move faster around him until he moans out, cumming into your mouth and watching as you proudly swallow all of his cum. 

"Shit," He moans out, both of you cuddling up to one another as you pant out of breath. You wouldn't change this moment for anyone or anything.

You jerk upright from where you’re slumped over your computer screen when you hear your husband’s voice.

It takes you a moment to regroup, gather your scattered thoughts from the tunnel you were in.

Yoongi’s walking around your desk, and he’s not visibly hurrying, but he’s rounded the curved edge to stand beside your chair before you can say anything, let alone close the window you were looking at.

He glances down at the screen, and for a single panicked moment, you want to fumble for the power button, send the cursor to the x in the corner, anything, just so he won’t see.

You’re too late. 

Your face burns as he reads over your shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything, just reads the comments quietly.

She’s just some privileged chick, no one likes or respects her.

She’s shit at her job but you don’t have to be good when you’re working for one of daddy’s companies.

I can’t believe he went out with Park Gyuri and ended up with her instead. 

I’ve heard she’s being investigated for fraud. I doubt she’s smart enough to fool anyone 😂

JFC

I fucking hate people like her

You say, staring at a spot on the wall just beyond the screen, ‘I’m fine.’

Yoongi says, mildly, ‘You’re more than fine.’

‘It’s stupid,’ you continue.

You risk a glance up at him to find him looking at the screen, lip curled in disgust.

He says, without looking at you, ‘stop reading this shit and come have dinner with me.’

‘Yeah,’ you agree. 

You turn your screen off and follow him to the kitchen.

It’s your housekeeper, Mrs Gye’s night off, but true to form, she’s prepared food for both of you.

Yoongi fixes you a plate and you fall into the routine you’ve adopted lately. 

You fetch wineglasses and pick up the uncorked bottle Mrs Gye’s left by the wine rack.

Yoongi says nothing as he watches you gulp down a half glass of wine before you’ve even sat down.

He sets your plate down in front of you with a murmured, ‘Eat.’

It’s only three mouthfuls in that you realise he’s looking at you carefully.

You tilt your chin up. ‘Take a picture, it lasts longer.’

Yoongi raises a brow. ‘Do you have a social media manager?’

‘Not right now,’ you hedge.

‘One of our interns is looking for a job. They run most accounts for our 18-25 demographic. They’re excellent. You should consider hiring them,’ Yoongi says evenly.

You mull this over as you chew. 

‘I don’t need you to save the day, Yoongi,’ you say. 

You regret your spikiness as soon as the words leave your mouth.

Old habits die hard.

You still haven’t learned how to talk to your serious, cold, husband in a non-defensive way, pillow talk notwithstanding.

Yoongi shrugs. ‘Seems funny to me that you’ll happily make me come apart in that sweet mouth of yours but won’t let me reciprocate.’

You stare at him. ‘You reciprocate plenty.’

Yoongi looks amused. ‘Do I please you in bed, love?’

He takes a sip of his wine. ‘Let me please you outside of it too.’

You sip your wine, trying to think. 

What’s Yoongi saying?

He sighs, and it’s more familiar than anything else. 

Your impatient husband.

He stands, picks up his glass and the half-full bottle.

‘Come on.’

You follow Yoongi to the bedroom you now share.

The balcony doors are open, a cool night breeze making the curtains sway.

He walks right up to balustrade and turns to you.

His shirtsleeves are rolled up, unusual for your usually conservative husband.

He looks so beautiful leaning against the balustrade, his hair gently ruffled, his eyes dark and serious as he looks at you.

‘I hope you don’t need me to tell you not to worry about what anonymous idiots on the internet think,’ he says.

His expression is difficult for you to read, but his voice makes you feel warm. 

‘I don’t care what they think,’ you say. You put your empty glass down and position yourself next to him, facing out at the gardens on the Min estate. 

You look over at him. 

‘I don’t care what you think,’ you say, your defiant streak rearing its head again.

Yoongi turns his face to you. 

‘My stubborn little brat,’ he muses. 

He closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and unbidden, you step between his legs, pressed against his front.

He doesn’t move except to slide his arm around your waist. 

‘I care,’ he says, eyes still closed.

Your eyes fly to his face.

‘I care what you think of me, and I care that some assholes had the audacity to bring that shit to our door.’

His eyes open, and he tilts his head to yours. He stops when your foreheads touch, so close his lips brush your cheek as he speaks.

‘You’re a Min, you’re part of me,’ he murmurs.

His lips part again. ‘You’re fucking untouchable.’

You’re already tilting your face to kiss him when he slides his warm palm around your cheek, cupping the back of your head.

His kiss is slow, languid, but somehow you’re still breathless when he finally pulls away.

He presses his lips to yours again, and this time his tongue licks into your mouth.

You melt into his arms. It still surprises you every day how your husband can make you burn for him.

Heat licks through your veins as he nuzzles against your neck, nudging your chin up so he can lave your skin with his tongue.

‘Yoongi,’ you whisper, trying not to moan as he sucks the skin of your neck.

He chuckles, low, the vibration of his breath on your neck making heat pool low in your belly.

‘Do you care what anyone else thinks, jagiya?’

He licks a stripe up your neck. ‘Or do you care what I think?’

He grasps your hand. ‘Touch me.’

You reach out, unbutton his shirt, and when it’s fully unbuttoned, slip your hand underneath.

Yoongi’s quiet as you explore the planes of his back, as you unbuckle his belt and undo his trousers to feel more of him.

‘Do you like this, Yoongi?’

‘I like it very much, jagiya.’

He’s still, letting you stroke over his ass, hissing as you wrap your fingers around his length.

You lower your lips to his cock, and he closes his eyes.

His throat bobs as he swallows.

You take him in your mouth, tongue pressed firmly to the underside of him.

Yoongi’s hand comes up to hold your chin.

He’s hard inside your mouth, throbbing, but his voice is remarkably calm when he speaks.

‘Only you can get me like this, jagiya.’

He strokes your hair back from your face. His fingers tighten in your hair as you start to move on him.

He moans. 

‘Don’t stop,’ he pleads. ‘You feel so good.’

His thighs tense beneath you. When you look up you realise he’s watching you intently, pupils blown, lip tucked under his teeth.

You grasp his hand, slide it around your back to your bra hooks.

Yoongi’s only too happy to help you undo your bra. 

He runs his thumb over the indentation between your breasts from the edge of the underwire.

‘My poor girl,’ he says, his breath quickening as you move on his cock. ‘Mark so easy.’

His hand curls around your bare breast, taking the weight of you. 

He fondles your breasts as you lick his cock, murmuring his approval as you tug on his balls.

His hand hesitates on the back of your head, until you pull off him just long enough to say, ‘go on, fuck me, Yoongi.’

Yoongi groans, bucks his hips up into your face. He pushes you down on his cock, shouts your name, and a moment later you feel him spurting into your mouth.

‘Come here,’ he says. 

He pulls you up, into his lap. You can feel his heart pounding against your face, pressed to his chest.

Yoongi puts his hand between your legs like it belongs there.

He slides the tips on his fingers into you shallowly, stretching you, palm over your clit.

You grasp his wrist when he tries to pull out.

Now you’re the one pleading. 

‘Don’t stop,’ you moan.

You bury your face in Yoongi’s neck as his fingers move inside you. You can feel yourself getting wetter, the slide easier, as he curls his fingers inside you.

‘Yoongi,’ you cry, so close now you can’t bear it.

‘Come, jagi,’ Yoongi urges. He scissors his fingers, pounding into you hard, and you squeeze his wrist as you come.

Yoongi stays still until you let go of his wrist.

‘Did I hurt you?’ you ask.

Yoongi snorts. ‘You let me shove my dick down your throat and you’re worried about my arm? You’re unbelievable, baby.’ 

He steadies you with an arm firmly around your waist as you climb off him.

‘Maybe I’ll take up your offer,’ you say.

At first you don’t think he’s heard you, then he nods.

‘That’s a good idea. At least I don’t have to execute plan B.’

‘What’s plan B?’

‘Tracking down those assholes and fucking them up,’ Yoongi says, blithely.

Min Yoongi is older than most creatures to walk this Earth, this much he knows. It’s been years since he last felt that any of the petty skirmishes mortals involve themselves in was worth any of his interest or his time. 

Even though time, for him, stretches out, almost infinitely. 

He doesn’t know your face at all, but you catch his attention, and hold it. He can sense your mortality slipping through your fragile grasp as you grapple with the men holding you down. 

You’re not going to win, though he admires your grit. 

Yoongi’s no stranger to blood but he has no desire to watch you get used and torn to shreds. He’s moving on when your eyes meet his. 

You plead with him wordlessly, desperately, as the light dims in your eyes. 

Yoongi knows that this is a dangerous time, the twilight between living and dying. You’re straddling both worlds, dying even as you push uselessly at the hands around your neck. 

It would be facetious to say that Yoongi kills without a shred of remorse. It’s more truthful to say that he kills without a thought. 

He’s standing amidst the mess he made, you at his feet, your face pressed to the ground. 

You’re unconscious, but you’ll live, unlike the men Yoongi dispatched on your behalf. 

There’s something unbearable to him about the way the lovely line of your cheek is touching the dirt of this human dumping ground. 

Yoongi doesn’t know what possesses him, but he takes you with him as he leaves. 

***

You wake in stages, in a very human way. 

Your eyes flicker open, shut. Yoongi can hear your heart accelerate, your breathing quicken, he can see your muscles tense. 

Your mouth opens on an inhale, and your eyes flicker open again. 

‘Where am I?’ you rasp. 

Your voice is soft, plaintive, your vocal cords swollen from your assault. 

‘You’re in my home,’ Yoongi replies. 

When you turn your head to look at him, your eyes are more focused. 

‘And who are you?’ 

‘I saved your life,’ Yoongi tells you. 

He watches as your eyes scan the domed ceiling, the painted frescoes, the stained glass. Your gaze stops at a scene of the Madonna. 

Yoongi studies your profile, the dirt smudged on your cheekbone he’d not bothered to wipe off.

Your gaze returns to him.

‘You’re Min Yoongi.’

It’s not a question, but Yoongi’s compelled to answer anyway, because the fact that you’ve guessed his identity means there’s more to you than he first thought.

You sit up, and Yoongi wonders how he managed to miss the celestial aura emanating from you. 

Lords and beings.

You’re an angel.

Seokjin is never going to let him live this down.

Min Yoongi, ancient slayer of humans, demonic legend from the mediaeval history of man, saved an angel.

Yoongi gets up, lets a tiny fraction of his darkness show. His voice deepens, resonating through the chapel.

‘Leave.’

You’re frightened, he can see it in the way you’re tensed, body held taut like a bow.

‘I can’t. It’s the night of Pandemonium.’

Pandemonium marks the beginning of when the Gates of Hell open each year. From your reaction, Yoongi guesses you’re a young angel, limited in power, incapable of cloaking or protecting yourself.

He laughs sardonically. ‘I don’t think the home of the bulgasari Prince is the right place for an angel on the night of Pandemonium, do you?’

You clasp your hands.

‘I’m not an angel.’

Yoongi stares at you.

‘Not anymore. I was cast out.’

For the first time, Yoongi feels a flicker of interest.

He can feel the scales in his mind threaten to tip by the tiniest of margins. 

For the first time, he thinks he might not kill you.

Seemingly unaware of his internal debate, you take a step closer to him.

Towards the most dangerous being in the room.

Yoongi flicks his tongue over his lower lip, steps forward so you can see him in the red glow.

His human form is beautiful, drawing others in. Leading them to their own destruction.

He can see the way your pupils dilate, your tongue wets your bottom lip, as you see him clearly for the first time.

‘You want to stay with me?’ he asks, silky. He takes another step.

You tilt your chin so you can keep looking at him.

‘Show me how much you want to stay.’

Yoongi turns his head towards the painting above the hearth.

‘Destroy it.’

You turn to the painting. 

It’s from the 14th century, by a little known Italian painter called Diavollo, depicting the death of Santa Lucia. He was gifted it by a corrupt nobleman in exchange for his life. Yoongi had taken both. 

You cast a defiant look at him, rush towards the painting. You stop, head bowed, before it.

‘I can’t.’ 

‘You can,’ Yoongi says, pitching his voice low, letting the heat of it flare out to you.

You clasp your hands together again, despairing. ‘I can’t.’

Steps heavy, head bowed, you head for the door. 

You stop just inside the front entrance to the chapel, as if giving him a chance to change his mind before he sends you to certain death.

Yoongi’s had countless beings plead for mercy from him in his long life and he has never once given in.

There’s a stirring in the recesses of his mind as he admires your profile for the last time. It feels like longing.

Then you’re gone, door swinging closed behind you.

***

Yoongi dislikes gatherings like this, when the princes of Hell and their delegates celebrate their misdeeds in front of the beings who serve them.

If Seokjin hadn’t asked him to attend as a personal favour, Yoongi would be in his home.

Oddly, he’s not been able to look at the Diavollo since you gave your life rather than destroy it.

He wonders if that sort of foolishness is what got you exiled.

He’s thought about your face so much that when he sees you, he’s momentarily stilled.

You’re knelt at the feet of Malvarius, the highest ranking demon of Yeomna’s court, save for Seokjin, and Yoongi himself.

Yoongi watches with revulsion as Malvarius scratches a bloodstained nail along the line of your neck, stopping at the iron collar around your throat.

Malvarius wraps his fist in the chain attached to your collar, tugs.

You fold to the ground in a heap of loose limbs and the sheer drapery he’s dressed you in.

Yoongi finds he still doesn’t care to see your face against the ground.

He approaches the demon, and you.

When you see him, there’s a flicker in your eyes.

‘She’s mine,’ Yoongi says, unceremoniously, to Malvarius.

Malvarius, the treacherous devil, says smoothly, ‘Pardon me?’

‘I made her a deal,’ Yoongi replies, preternaturally calm. ‘She owes me.’

Malvarius sits up, and Yoongi realises there’s a crowd gathering.

It doesn’t take much to have demons baying for blood.

Malvarius draws himself up to his full height.

‘Do you mean to say, Yoongi, that you own the soul of Azariel’s only daughter?’

Yoongi blinks.

Azariel, the most revered of the archangels, is a name that strikes fear even in the hearts of the most seasoned of demon princes.

You’re Azariel’s daughter? 

Yoongi remembers the way you cried over the Diavollo as you walked to your death.

You’d not used your father’s name as a bargaining chip. 

Yoongi says, coolly, ‘One fallen angel is just like any other.’

‘She’s a lusty slut,’ Malvarius remarks. ‘Can’t stop opening your legs for me, can you, angel?’

You gasp in pain as he pulls up on the chain, making you dance on your toes to keep from being choked.

Yoongi finds he doesn’t care for the sight of you in pain, either.

‘Give me what’s mine,’ he says, bored. ‘Or we can ask Yeomna to mediate.’

At the mention of the lord of Hell, Malvarius scowls. The last time he clashed with Seokjin, Yoongi had come very close to removing his power, Yeomna’s rules be damned.

He tosses the chain on the stone floor with a clang.

‘To your new master,’ he says, with little grace.

Yoongi removes the collar from around your neck.

‘Follow me,’ he commands.

Yoongi leads you through the debauchery, ignoring your gasps and sobbing breaths as you step through blood, entrails, sex. 

It’s only when you’ve followed him all the way back to his door that he speaks to you.

‘I’m deciding what to do with you,’ he tells you. ‘You will stay here, whilst I decide.’

‘My father won’t engage in barter for me,’ you say immediately. ‘He’d as soon as I was dead as alive.’

‘You must have done something terrible, angel.’ 

Your mouth clamps shut, lips flattening into a straight line.

‘Did you kill?’ Yoongi asks. ‘Maim?’

You barely react to his taunting tone.

‘Were you envious? Greedy?’

You’re quiet.

‘You’re not wrathful,’ Yoongi observes. 

He waits until your eyes meet his.

‘That leaves pride, and lust?’

From the way your face tightens he knows he’s stumbled upon his answer.

Yoongi lets his eyes travel to your beautiful form in the sheer silk you’re draped in.

Your breasts press against the material, rounded, enticing, and as he looks, your nipples tighten visibly.

‘Ah,’ Yoongi says, voice dropped to barely a whisper. ‘He said you were lustful.’

Yoongi leans down, close to your cheek, and enjoys the way you shiver as he breathes on your skin.

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your skin, and your pupils dilate so much your eyes are practically black.

Your lips part on his name, and Yoongi, for the first time in a long while, feels a surge of lust.

You stay completely still as he touches your cheek.

‘What do you want from me, angel?’ Yoongi taunts. ‘Aren’t you fallen enough?’

Your breath trembles in your chest as his fingers tighten on your face.

‘Come,’ says Yoongi. ‘Show me how you fell.’

He lets go of your face to caress the swells of your breasts, and you gasp, but you don’t stop him.

Instead, you arch your back to press your breasts into his palms.

‘You want more?’ Yoongi asks. He knows you do.

He grasps the front of your gown, rips it all the way down.

Your thighs tighten on his hand as he reaches between your legs.

Yoongi’s hand explores you, leisurely, slow, until you’re twitching and trembling.

Your nipples are so sensitive now that when Yoongi rolls his tongue around one you buck your hips into his hand.

‘Uhngh,’ you moan. 

Yoongi thumbs the bud at the top of your sex, and your warmth pulses around his fingers.

Wet, hot, tight.

Yoongi drags his tongue along the round of your breast, and your breathing hitches.

Your nipples are so puffy and erect they almost look painful.

You whine as he grasps your rounded flesh. The sound causes a stirring, low in his belly.

Yoongi’s cock swells at the sounds you make. You’re so pleasured, breathless, and he’s barely making any effort.

He’s already almost fully erect when your soft hand brushes the front of his groin.

‘Bold for an angel,’ he says.

There’s a spark in your eyes, clouded with lust. 

‘How many angels have you defiled, Lord Min?’

Yoongi considers your question as his eyes roam your beautiful body.

‘None,’ he tells you.

You smile, and you’re so pretty he can’t take his eyes off you.

‘Luckily, I’m not an angel any more.’

Yoongi smirks. ‘Let me show you how the other side lives.’

He turns, and you follow.

***

You’re lost, Yoongi isn’t sure when it happened, probably between your fourth, maybe fifth peak.

He’s covered in your arousal, he can taste you on his lips, on his tongue. His cock’s still so rigid inside you he’s aching, caught in the delirium between pleasure and pain.

He plunges into your wet warmth, rocking his hips against yours.

Your arms are limp, one draped around his neck, just barely holding on, the other splayed out, fingers uncurled. You look dazed, fucked out, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

You cry out as Yoongi moves, dragging his cock against the walls of your cunt, and he notes with grim satisfaction how hoarse your voice now is.

‘Yoongi,’ you beg, ‘wanna feel you.’

‘You’ll feel me,’ he promises.

You shake your head. ‘I want to feel your pleasure.’

Yoongi groans as you hold your legs apart for him, letting him see exactly how he cleaves you apart , the way he looks entering your core.

He wraps a hand around your neck, tight, and your eyes close. Your hand snakes around his wrist, urging him on.

You’re clenching around him so sweetly Yoongi’s disarmed, and when you press a kiss to his temple he releases, shouting your name, spilling inside you.

Belatedly, he remembers to loosen his grip around your neck, and as you remain still he feels an unnerving wave of fear that he might have hurt you.

He says your name, and you stir. Relief floods through his chest. 

‘Stay,’ you mumble into his chest. ‘Stay.’

Yoongi curls his arm around you, a display of skinship he’s unused to but that you seem to want.

He wonders, curious, why he’s swayed to want to give you what you want.

***

You wake during the night. 

Yoongi’s flat on his back, arm propping up his head. He watches with dark amusement as you look your fill at his naked form. 

‘You’re too wide-eyed considering you have my seed all over you,’ he drawls. 

You blink at him. ‘I was surprised to wake, my lord.’

‘You thought I’d kill Azariel’s fallen daughter?’ Yoongi muses, not bothering to acknowledge how close to the truth you are. 

‘You do have a reputation, Lord Min,’ you say, so seriously that it takes him a moment to realise you’re teasing him. 

He’s startled into laughter that sounds rusty even to him. 

You turn over, breasts spilling onto the silk bedcovers, lush and beautiful like you were made to tempt him. 

His cock stirs, and it doesn’t escape your notice, minx that you are. 

You reach for him, gentle, soft against his hardness. 

Yoongi groans, eyes never leaving you as you stroke him. Your lips part on a breath, tongue flicking between. The cavern of your mouth feels like the heaven Yoongi will never know. 

He’s never rued being born a demon prince until this moment. 

Yoongi pulls you off his rigid shaft, seeks the warmth between your legs. You’re already gasping, spreading to take him, so soft and slick and willing he can barely hold himself back. 

His hand finds its way around your neck again, squeezing, and the pleasure ramps up a thousandfold. 

Your back arches as you peak, and this time Yoongi doesn’t have the patience to deny himself. He groans into your hair as he fills you, remembers to loosen his grip. 

You’re emboldened to press a kiss to his lips, a moment of contact so searing Yoongi’s jolted out of his post-pleasure daze. 

Neither of you speak, and neither of you makes a move to leave. 

***

It’s just past dawn when Yoongi stirs to the back of your entirely naked body. 

You’re getting re-dressed, helping yourself to his clothes. 

‘I should go,’ you say. 

Yoongi hadn’t realised you’d noticed he was awake. 

Pandemonium has passed, but Yoongi finds he doesn’t care for any possibility that you might get hurt. 

He rises, unclasps a chain from around his neck, fastens it around your own. The ancient rune now hanging between your collarbones is distinctly, identifiably, his. 

There aren’t many who would seek his wrath. 

‘My father will —--’ 

‘Rue the day he let you fall into the hands of a demon prince?’ suggests Yoongi. 

The hint of a smile plays around your lips, and Yoongi can’t tear his eyes away. 

‘I’ll be back,’ you say. There's a faint question in your voice.

‘See that you are,’ Yoongi replies. 

You bow slightly. ‘My lord.’ 

You take your leave, and Yoongi allows himself to watch you go until you slip between two buildings, and then you’re gone. 

His sentence was punctuated by his middle and ring finger dipping between your folds and leaving in an instant. You tried to lean into him and keep him there longer, but he pulled away; making you cry out in desperation.

The humidity from the bathroom was making your shirt that was hiked up to reveal more of your body to Jungkook stick to you. The body heat coming off Jungkook was not helping the situation, your back against his naked upper body.

You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, letting out a sigh. Jungkook leaned down, his voice right in your ear.

“Finish the sentence.”

You were sure that your wetness was about to drip onto the floor at this point because you could hear the noise from Jungkook’s fingers.

“Please. I need…I need…” Your voice breathy. “I need you. Your cock, your fingers, anything.”

“Good girl.” He pressed a kiss by your ear, making a chill run down your spine.

You let out an erotic moan when you felt his fingers inside of you again. This time fucking into you just how you like it; swirling to explore your inner walls.

“Fuck, I love your pussy.” Jungkook’s voice was low; somewhat muffled in your neck.

You closed your eyes, nodding to whatever he was saying.

He held your body against himself as he suddenly started going harder; knowing you liked it that way.

“Yes…Fuck.” You whined, slightly smirking to yourself as you grabbed onto Jungkook’s arm, your nails slightly scratching his skin.

“Fuck.” He grunted before pulling away from you, quickly pulling down his underwear, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

You sucked in a breath when you felt him teasing your entrance; practically dripping for him.

“Don’t tease me.”

Jungkook hummed in response, slipping the tip of his cock into you, then pulling it out. You leaned forwards onto the countertop.

“No!” You whined, trying to move back towards him, feeling the cold marble in contrast to your hot skin. “Please, please, please.” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so desperate in your life.

“You know I like hearing you beg for it.” Jungkook’s hands grabbed your waist to steady you. “But I think you’ve done enough, right?” He looked at you through the mirror again, locking eye contact for a few seconds. You nodded, biting your lip to suppress a whimper.

Your mouth fell open when he finally pushed his cock inside of you, bottoming out in the first thrust.

Jungkook groaned at the feeling, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts. You reached behind you with one of your hands to grab onto him.

“Fuck, right there.” You cried out, eyes starting to water. “Don’t stop.”

You were already so worked up, you felt like you could cum at any moment. Your walls were already clenching around his length.

Jungkook pulled your body up, your back against his chest, arms holding you tightly against him. You gasped at the sudden change in position, and Jungkook’s rhythm never changed.

“Fuck, you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jungkook was panting, his hot breath on your neck.

You couldn’t find the words, so you just nodded.

Jungkook started fucking into you harder; making you clutch onto him. You were being so loud now that you were so sure he was going to cover your mouth.

“Jungkook. Fuck.” You turned your face towards his as he watched you in the mirror, your body slightly trembling. You closed your eyes, brows furrowed and feeling like you’re dripping sweat – or maybe it was Jungkook. “I’m so close…”

“Mhm.” He turned and sloppily kissed you. “Tell me.”

Your orgasm crashed over you soon after; and you did nothing to stop it. Your pretty sure you let out a rather loud whine, because Jungkook quietly shushed you as he continued to fuck into you. He was still holding onto you as you probably would have fallen if he wasn’t.

“Jungkook…” You mumbled, starting to get overstimulated.

“Can I cum inside of you, baby?” Jungkook asked you, his face close to yours. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Please, please.” You nodded almost too quick, biting down onto your bottom lip. “Wanna feel you.”

Jungkook’s rhythm got sloppy right until he abruptly crashed his lips into yours. You moaned into his mouth when you felt him finish inside of you.

“Fuck.” You moaned against Jungkook’s mouth as he was still kissing you, your fingers ran through his dark hair that was somewhat damp with sweat. “What a mess…”

Jungkook hummed, beginning to kiss down your neck. “Tell me about it.” He slightly laughed. “Wanna get in the shower?”

_

By now, you're pretty good at recognising when your husband is genuinely angry. He's often difficult to read, but you've been making an effort lately, and you're starting to recognise his tells.

When his mouth is in a straight line and his brow's slightly furrowed, he's bemused. It's the expression he had when you hid all his left shoes.

When his brows are drawn together and his mouth opens slightly, he's irritated. He gets like this sometimes when you and Seokjin are arguing.

When his expression goes completely blank, you look at his hands. When his hands are like they are now, loosely clenched, and he looks at you with heat in his gaze, he's angry. It doesn't happen often, but you're quite sure, that on this occasion, Yoongi is angry.

Scratch that. He looks pretty fucking mad.

You think frantically about all the things you've done lately, trying to remember if you've done anything especially provoking.

He’s looking straight at you across the room, and you can feel his eyes burning into you.

What have you done this time?

Your husband's still staring at you, and if he didn't look so damn irresistible in the sharp black suit he's wearing, you'd already be running.

His gaze flicks down over your body, blatantly looking you over in a way that's unusual for him.

Ahhhh fuck.

You stole his suit.

The last time Yoongi and you had to attend a public event together, you went all out. You'd picked up a vintage gown, had it altered to fit you like a second skin, had spent hours being primped and preened just so you could turn up on his arm looking like the most perfect version of you money could buy.

Yoongi had barely blinked. In fact, he'd grumbled something about you making him late to the event.

And so today, when you'd walked past the suit laid out for him in his wardrobe area on the way to the shower, an idea of immense brilliance had flashed into your mind.

You'd reached out, plucked the hanger off the rack, and marched to your room with it clutched in your hand.

You'd sent him some excuse about working late and had told him you'd meet him at the hotel, and then you'd put on his suit.

Crisp white shirt, a jacket with a subtle pinstripe, and a black tie that you'd had to ask Mrs Gye to help you tie. You'd forgone the suit trousers entirely, and the jacket on you is long enough to cover your ass.

Just about.

The piece de resistance though? The platinum collar bar connecting both ends of the collar, tucked under your tie.

You're not entirely sure how you're going to get it off without help, especially since the look on Yoongi's face makes it seem like he's unlikely to want to help you right now.

You like the suit he has on though, now that you can see it more clearly. It's almost identical to the one you have on.

Trust your husband to have a backup suit on standby.

He even has a collar bar like yours, and damn he looks so sexy you want to jump his bones.

Belatedly, you realise the reason you can see all the detail on his suit is that he's much closer than he was when you last checked.

Shit. He's heading straight towards you, face like thunder.

You squeak and back away, straight into the hard chest of Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin sighs wearily.

'At least tell me what panties you're wearing so I have something to jerk off to later,' he says.

'I'll give them to you if you help me get away,' you say quickly, seeing an opportunity.

'You're not going anywhere,' Yoongi says. His hand closes on your arm like a vice.

***

Yoongi’s driving, one hand curled loosely on the wheel, the other on the centre console of his car, close to your bare thigh.

‘Nice suit,’ he says, the first words he’s spoken to you since you left the event.

You smooth the wool over your thigh. ‘Thank you, it’s Valentino.’

Yoongi looks at you like he can’t quite believe your audacity.

‘It looks like the suit I was meant to wear tonight.’

‘Yeah?’ you ask, all innocence.

‘I didn’t know you could tie a tie that well, I should ask for your help next time.’

‘Mrs Gye helped,’ you offer nonchalantly.

‘Where are the pants?’ Yoongi asks. He glances in the rearview mirror, signals to turn.

‘They didn’t fit,’ you say, shrugging.

‘Because they were measured specifically for me,’ Yoongi points out.

You give him a sidelong look.

‘You don’t like me in womenswear or menswear it seems,’ you mutter.

Because you’re watching, you see Yoongi flick his eyes to you.

‘I like you in everything,’ he counters. There’s a pause before he says, ‘and nothing.’

He slows the car, and you look around curiously at the darkness around you.

Yoongi pulls to a complete stop.

‘Why did you steal my suit to wear tonight?’

You don’t have an answer, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to be waiting for one.

‘Is it because I don’t buy you enough beautiful clothes?’ he muses.

‘I buy my own clothes,’ you point out, defiant.

‘Is it because it wasn’t enough for you that I came so hard when you were wearing that ridiculous dress at the last event, I passed out?’

‘You liked that dress?’ you ask, inordinately pleased.

Yoongi glowers at you.

‘If you didn’t act like such a brat all the time, I’d compliment you more,’ he growls.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘You like it when I’m a brat, Yoongi.’

He doesn’t deny it. Instead he looks out the window.

‘How many times do I have to come inside you before you realise how stunning I think you are?’

He turns back to you.

‘Jagiya, I will always think you are beautiful.’

There’s no heat in his voice now, the words come out with a quiet simplicity that rings with honesty.

You’re still processing when he continues, ‘and I will always think you look irresistible in my clothes.’

‘Are you angry with me?’

‘For stealing my suit and leaving me to have a replacement delivered at short notice?’

You turn to him.

‘I’m not angry,’ he tells you. ‘But if I were, how would you make it up to me?’

You bite your lip, then slide your seat back.

‘May I kiss you, Yoongi?’

He’s staring at your lips. ‘Yes.’

You slip your hand down his chest, past his belt buckle, down to his lap.

‘Here?’ you ask, hand over his lap.

‘Fuck, jagiya, please,’ he breathes.

You lean over and undo his pants, slide his half-erect dick out.

Yoongi reaches out, wraps a hand around your (his) tie, loosely.

‘Hey,’ he says, just as your lips touch his cock.

‘Mmm?’

‘Tap me if I’m holding too tight, ok?’

He waits until you nod before he leans back in his seat. His perfectly coiffed hair flicks forward as the back of his head meets the headrest, and his thighs spread as you lick along his cock.

He’s quiet as you suck him to full erection, the only clues you have that he’s enjoying it are the erraticness of his breathing and the way he’s twitching over your tongue.

‘Fuck,’ he groans, fist tightening in your tie, tugging you down.

It’s making the tie tighten around your neck, but you like how it feels.

‘Fu— uh—- uk,’ he groans again, stuttering as you hollow your cheeks and take him all in, the head of his cock nudging the back of your throat.

You swallow, and he slams a hand against the car window.

You reach under, cup his balls, and his hips jerk against your face.

He’s holding you so tight, filling your mouth with his cock so well you can barely breathe.

‘Gonna cum,’ he warns, ‘fuck, I’m gonna —-‘

He doesn’t finish his sentence, moaning long and deep as he shoots his release down your throat.

The tie tightens again, and then he lets go.

‘Jagi, are you ok?’

He’s tipping your chin up to see your face, and the concern in his expression makes you feel warm.

‘I’m ok, oppa.’

He pulls you up to kiss him.

‘Don’t ‘oppa’ me, brat.’

He’s undoing your tie deftly, unthreading the collar bar so he can unbutton your shirt.

‘Let me see,’ he grunts, unbuttoning your shirt rapidly, pulling the plackets apart to expose your lack of bra, the thin, sheer panties you slipped on.

He presses his thumb over your wetness, places his other hand over your exposed front.

‘What do you want, my love?’ he asks. He slides two fingers under your panties, tugs. ‘Want me to kiss you here?’

His knuckles nudge against your core, and he groans. ‘You’re wet, you like sucking my cock, don’t you, jagiya?’

His fingers slip inside you, stretching, scissoring, his movements fast and insistent.

‘Yoongi,’ you cry, and he laughs, thumb rocking back and forth over your clit, making you buck against his hand.

'You're so easy to please, my love,' he taunts.

A lock of hair's fallen over his forehead now, and he looks so good you could cry.

Yoongi cups your breast, squeezes. 'Your little pussy's so fucking tight, I can barely move my hand,' he tells you. 'Gonna come for me?'

You cry his name as your pleasure crests and you press your face into his neck.

Yoongi leaves his fingers inside you but wraps his other arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

The cool metal of his collar bar digs into your cheek.

'I'm gonna help you get re-dressed, ok, baby?' he says, voice low, rumbling in his chest.

“Hey...” You spoke into the phone to your latest hookup, Min Yoongi.

You found yourself calling him now more than ever, since your boyfriend was away traveling for work often. You swore you were on the verge of breaking up with him, that you couldn’t do it anymore, and after all you still had needs. Yoongi on the other hand, was always right where you needed him. Always a phone call away.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Yoongi asked you in response.

“Nothing. Just kind of had a mediocre day at work.” You sat on the edge of your bed. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi was interested.

“Yeah and fucking your cock all day.”

You could tell that Yoongi was speechless.

“Fuck.” He huffed. “You can’t just say that to me. Your place or mine?”

“Yours.” You answered. You admittedly liked his apartment better; it always smelled good and had a better ambiance. His kitchen practically looked like a showroom; it was hard to believe that he did any cooking in it.

“It sounds like you’re in the car.”

“Yeah, I had some things to do. Now I can’t even fucking focus on driving.” Yoongi spoke, laughing as you could hear him turn on his turn signal. “What time are you coming?”

You looked at the clock on the nightstand in your bedroom. 5:30.

“Maybe like 8:30?” You asked to make sure he agreed.

“Yeah, that works.” Yoongi cleared his throat. “I’m guessing that he’s out again?” He was referring to your boyfriend.

“Yeah, god I’m so sick of it. How’d you know? “You sarcastically asked.

Yoongi laughed at your sarcasm. “Just a wild guess.”

————————————————————————

You knocked on the door to Yoongi’s apartment upon your arrival. While waiting, you glanced at your phone for the time. 8:30. Right on time.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and there was Yoongi, flashing you a smile. “Perfect timing.”

“Hey, am I ever late?” You joked as you stepped through the threshold and came inside, Yoongi closing the door behind you, his eyes on you the entire time as you walked over to his kitchen counter.

“Yeah I know, I’m joking.” Yoongi answered. “You look nice.” He stood behind you somewhat close, referring to the skirt and strappy top that you were wearing.

You smirked. “You always say that.”

“Yeah and I never said I didn’t mean it.” Yoongi’s fingers grazed your hips, practically sending electricity through your body.

Yoongi pulled you against him, the quick movement surprising you at first. You turned your head slightly, and he met you halfway with a kiss. He must have been drinking Pinot noir because you could taste it on his lips.

You moaned against his lips, giving him the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth and against yours as his hands roamed your body. Once you felt his fingers move over the back of one of your thighs, you let out a whine; and Yoongi lifted up your skirt.

“Fuck.” He broke away from the kiss immediately, his lips flushed and swollen. You leaned down onto the cold marble countertop as his eyes were on probably the skimpiest pair of underwear you owned; leaving little to be imagined.

“Yoongi.” You teased, grinding your ass against his now hardening cock in his pants. Just as you were about to get up, Yoongi’s hand held you down.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wore these just for me.” He teased, his fingers toying with the fabric.

You let out a moan when his fingers brushed against your still covered core; quickly moving to pull your panties to the side.

You couldn’t see, but Yoongi quickly swiped his fingertips against his tongue, and returned between your legs to rub slow circles over your folds.

You nearly cried out at the sudden contact, as Yoongi swore under his breath. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

You moaned when three of his fingers were inside of you, and he was starting to fuck into you.

“Fuck. Fuck me, Yoongi.” You whined, putting one of your knees onto the counter for leverage.

Your words encouraging him; he grunted, holding onto you with his free hand, and fucking you with the three fingers on his other hand.

“Shit, can you take 4?” Yoongi asked you, moving his hand along your back. Completely resting your upper body onto the cold countertop; you let out a sigh.

“Give it to me. Anything. All of it.”

You had no idea what had you feeling so desperate, and you whined when you felt the stretch of four of Yoongi’s fingers. The slight twinge of pain turned into pleasure.

“So good.” Yoongi spoke, his voice raspy. “Like your cunt was made for my fingers.”

You bit down on your lip as Yoongi’s fingers were pressing your walls hard, and this didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Don’t be quiet. Let me fucking hear you.”

He pulled you up so your back was against his chest, making you grab hold of his arm that was around you now.

“Fuck!” You cried out. “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“So cum.” His voice was right in your ear now, a low vibration that went right to your core. “I can feel you clenching me. Make a mess out of my kitchen.”

Yoongi turned you slightly, pulling you into a kiss that was quite sloppy, then he was fucking into you with his fingers at a pace that had you feeling that you might pass out.

“Fuck, fuck.” You whined as he was now kissing your neck and shoulder area, nibbling at the skin every so often. “Don’t stop. Yoongi, fuck.”

Your legs were shaking, and you were clutching onto anything you could to try not to fall. Just as Yoongi pulled his fingers out of you and started rubbing your clit, your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave.

Your legs tingled as your stomach tightened, and you leaned into Yoongi. Yoongi’s fingers were still on your clit when you felt wetness on your inner thighs.

“Fuck.” You panted as Yoongi pulled his fingers away, licking them clean.

“Baby, you just squirted on my kitchen floor.” Yoongi spoke, smirking. “Fucking hot, come here.” He grabbed your jaw, pulling you in for a kiss.

He pulled away, his hand moving down to your throat. You bit down onto your bottom lip, and Yoongi could tell that there was something on your mind before he kissed you again.

“What?” He questioned.

“Wanna suck your cock…” You finished the sentence with a smirk.

Yoongi was taken aback a little bit. “Woah—fuck. I don’t think you have to really ask.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, backing up against the granite countertop as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

You could tell how hard he was by the outline of his cock that was straining through his dark jeans.

You reached to unbutton his pants, then unzip them. Yoongi slightly pulled them down just as you hooked your fingers around the waistband of his Black Balenciaga underwear and pulled them down just enough to reveal his rock hard cock.

You felt your mouth already filling with saliva, watching Yoongi grab his length and stroke it once; a bead of precum leaking from the tip.

His hand was quickly replaced with yours, and Yoongi let out a throaty groan at your touch. You leaned in, sliding his cock into your warm mouth, feeling him against your tongue.

Yoongi sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth, gripping onto the edge of the countertop behind him. “Fuck, you are so hot.”

You let out a moan, taking more of him in your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. Then you pulled away from him briefly, spitting on the tip of his cock then using it to stroke him a few times.

“God, I love how you taste.” You spoke, locking eye contact with him briefly.

“Yeah?” Yoongi was so sensitive that his knees buckled a little bit when you brushed your thumb over his tip.

You slightly hummed, taking him back into your mouth and into your throat so deep that he was panting now.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this.” One of Yoongi’s hands was under your chin. “On your knees for me.”

His words went right to your core, desperately shifting on the floor for some friction. Yoongi started to fuck into your mouth, his cock head hitting the back of your throat; making the most pornographic sound you ever heard. You finally gagged, and Yoongi pulled away, his length as well as your mouth covered with saliva.

You didn’t even realize your eyes were watering until Yoongi wiped your smudged mascara with his thumb. You sat up a little bit when he leaned down to kiss your sloppy mouth; his hand moving to your throat to make you look at him.

“Yoongi.” You sniffed because your nose was slightly running. “Fuck, I need your cock.”

“Yeah?” He kissed you again, and you hummed against his mouth. “Go to my room, get undressed, and wait five seconds for me, okay?”

You looked at him in confusion.

“I have to clean up a little bit.”

You shook your head, smirking as you stood up. Yoongi always had to be neat and tidy.

“Don’t be long, or I’ll start without you.” You joked, grabbing your purse on the way out of the room.

You walked out of the kitchen and down the short hallway to Yoongi’s bedroom. Upon opening the door, the room was dimly lit from lamps, and he must have had a diffuser going that smelled like lavender and charcoal. You set your purse down on one of his nightstands, then quickly started getting undressed because Yoongi was going to be there any second.

Quickly stepping out of your skirt and kicking it aside, then taking off your shirt; leaving you naked except for your panties.

In perfect timing, the moment that you were about to get on his bed, Yoongi came into the room. His pants were still unbuttoned from earlier.

You sat on his bed In front of him as he walked over to you, undressing himself as he went.

Yoongi was in front of you wearing just his underwear. “Hey, I thought I said undress.” He was motioning to the fact that you still had underwear.

“I know. You came in too fast.” You answered, your hands roaming Yoongi’s upper body. “But you can take them off of me.”

Yoongi smirked at you, tilting your chin up. “Open your mouth.”

You obliged, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out slightly; knowing what Yoongi was about to do.

He leaned in and let a glob of spit fall into your mouth; some onto your tongue. Immediately after, pulling you into a sloppy tongue kiss. You moaned into his mouth as he lowered you back onto the bed, his hands finding the hem of your panties; yanking them down slightly before breaking away from the kiss to completely take them off.

He pulled you to the edge of the bed, hovering over you again to kiss you. Yoongi then started kissing your neck and down to your collarbone, then down the valley of your breasts.

One of your hands moved to his hair, you couldn’t help but giggle slightly, and smirk because his hair was tickling you.

“Yoongi…” You bucked your hips up into his. You could feel how hard his cock was against you, and now you needed it more than ever.

“Hmm…” Yoongi hummed against your skin as he kissed around on your chest; nibbling at your skin gentle enough to not leave any marks.

“I need your cock.” You let out a high-pitched whine when you felt his warm mouth around your left nipple; sucking and biting every so often. Your grip on Yoongi’s hair tightened In frustration; making him moan.

You let go and Yoongi stood up off of you, stepping over to his nightstand. “One second.” He opened the drawer, picking up a box of condoms. He pulled out a foil packet and stepped back over to you as he opened it. “I know you say you’re consistent, but just to be sure.”

You sat up slightly as Yoongi took off his Balenciaga underwear. You’d be lying if you said his dick wasn’t big; it was huge. Bigger than you ever expected when you first started seeing him, especially because Yoongi had a very small frame otherwise.

You sucked in a breath, propping yourself up with your elbows slightly to watch him as he rolled the condom over his length. Yoongi had a decent girth, and was somewhat veiny; just like his hands.

“Okay.” Yoongi spoke, opening your legs slightly more than they were so he could get leverage.

You felt him press the tip of his cock against your opening, and you closed your eyes.

“No, no, no.” Yoongi suddenly spoke. “I want you to look at me.”

You whined, opening your eyes and looking at him, then watched as he pushed himself inside of you. Your eyebrows furrowed, it always slightly hurt for a few seconds before Yoongi gave you time to adjust. He patiently watched your facial expressions for the queue on when to continue.

“Fuck.” He panted when he finally bottomed out inside of you. “Take my cock so fucking good.”

You smirked at his praise, reaching to rub your clit as he fucked into you.

“You’re fucking smiling.” His thrusts got harder and he tightened his grip on your legs. “Turns me on.”

“Fuck. Don’t stop.” You whined, eyebrows furrowing as you felt him bump your g spot.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He shifted positions so that now he was hovering over you, now hitting deeper.

“God, you’re so deep.” You whined as you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. Yoongi loved hearing you, never getting sick of it.

“You can take it.” Yoongi grunted as you clutched onto his arms.

The way that Yoongi was hitting every right place had you trying to keep yourself together, fighting an orgasm to make everything last a little longer.

“You got quiet.” Yoongi was breathing heavy, his face mere inches from yours and you could hear the wet noises coming from your cunt.

“Fuck. I’m so close.” You swore. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, tell me.” His voice was low and raspy before his lips crashed with yours, the kiss sloppy. You could barely kiss him back, everything too much.

“Fuck. Yoongi I—“ You barely even got to finish your sentence before your orgasm crashed into you unexpectedly.

“Fuck. You got tight.” Yoongi swore, your body shaking beneath him as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

You whined when you felt his fingers on your clit. “You can give me one more.”

You looked up at him over you, both of you sweaty. You watched him. The way his eyebrows furrowed, his throaty grunts and moans, the way he knew exactly how to please you, the way every kiss knocked the wind out of you.

Yoongi now switched your position, now you were flipped over onto your hands and knees. Your face against his sheets; you were too fucked out to care. His cock was back inside of you like it never left.

“God, you are so fucking good.” Yoongi swore, one of his hands smacking your ass hard; making you jump slightly. “I wish I could cum in you. Fuck.”

“So do it.” You didn’t even realize what you were saying.

Yoongi scoffed. “You know I can’t.” He gripped your hips with both of his hands, pulling you back into him. “God, I envy that man.” He was referring to your boyfriend.

“Fuck. Him.” you muttered, hands gripping onto the bed sheets. “Oh god, Yoongi.”

Your walls were clenching him again, and Yoongi’s thrusts were becoming erratic like he was close as well.

“The way you say my name.” He moaned, sending a chill through your body.

“Yoongi.” Your voice was whiny this time. Your second orgasm hit you seconds later, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. Yoongi’s thrusts didn’t change much, only slowing a little bit because of the overstimulation.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Yoongi swore before finally stopping, spilling his own release into the condom. Both of you exhausted, sweaty, and panting for breath.

“Fuck.” You swallowed thickly, turning over when Yoongi pulled out of you.

“Come here.” Yoongi turned your face towards him, kissing you.

You suddenly heard your phone on the nightstand. Your boyfriend’s text tone. Yoongi must have noticed your facial expression change, because now he looked concerned.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No. No.” You sighed. “That text, it’s him. God, I so bad want to –"

“So do it. Dump his ass.” Yoongi cut you off. “Stay here with me. You can take a shower if you want, borrow my sweats. Just stay.”

Hills have eyes, the hills have eyes.

Who are you to judge? Who are you to judge?

Hide your lies, girl, hide your lies.

Only you to trust, only you.

_

An onlooker might be wondering why you’re standing outside your neighbor’s door at ass o’clock in nothing but an oversized tee, but the answer is simple. Mistakes were made. You’re an idiot.

Approximately five minutes ago, you thought it’d be cute to send your best friend Mo a photo from your first day at your new job. But it wasn’t just any photo. It was a photo of you in strappy black lingerie, lying on beige silk sheets all glowy and oiled up. You’re gazing up into the camera lens like it’s the dark eyes of a man about to rail you. 

As weird as it sounds to be sending that kind of photo to your best friend, you’ve known her your entire life and she’s always been the number one supporter of your modeling career. In fact, she’s the one who bugged you for the pics in the first place.

You have no regrets for wanting to share the photo with your best friend. You just hate yourself for thinking it’d be fine to AirDrop it since she lives right next door. In your defense, your company is paying for your work phone—the new iPhone—and you were eager to play around with all the random features you won’t otherwise be using. Besides, AirDrop has a small range and Mo is your neighbor, so it was the perfect opportunity to test it out. In theory, she would’ve received the photo no problem—if she were actually home.

But Mo wasn’t home. You’d realized that too late after the AirDrop had gone through to someone else. Mortified is an understatement of how you felt when she sent a text saying, “GIRL;;;; I’m at Namjoon’s place rn;;;; I  am NOT in AirDrop range🥲”

For a good two minutes, you were convinced it must’ve been some creepy stalker who’d accepted your AirDrop… or the sweet elderly lady who lives across the street and occasionally drops off a tray of baked goods. You could totally see her accidentally accepting the AirDrop, only to be blindsided and violated by that photo of you. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to return her sparkly red reindeer platter from her last cookie delivery. Not after she’s seen you like that.

But then an even darker thought came to mind. And you’d take creepy stalker or innocent granny over that any day.

That’s how you ended up on your neighbor’s doorstep at ass o’clock.

After letting you stand out in the cold for a whole ass minute, he finally answers the door. “He” as in Min Yoongi, your childhood friend slash nemesis, the older brother of your best friend, or, in the simplest terms, your hot neighbor.

And when you say “hot,” you mean really hot. Your innocent little crush on him was cute when you were ten, but the admiration has since evolved into pure lust. You’ve admittedly thought about him in ways you should not be thinking about a childhood friend let alone your best friend’s brother. 

Whenever you catch a glimpse of his big hands, you wish they were on your body, you wish his long veiny fingers would curl inside you, and the tiniest part of you wishes he wasn’t someone you had a long history with. You always feel like you have to be on your toes around him because of that history. Because you know it can all fall apart with one wrong move—like accidentally sending him a suggestive lingerie photo. Oops.

“Yes?” he raises a brow, staring at the way you’re shivering outside his door, the way your perky nipples are most definitely poking through your shirt. You’re sure he sees it all. But given the fact that he’s practically seen you naked, you don’t even bother covering up. What’s the point?

“Did you, by chance, get an AirDrop like five minutes ago?” you get straight to the point. It’s fucking freezing, after all. He could’ve at least asked you to come inside for a sec. You would’ve declined to avoid the risk of temptation, but still.

“Depends,” he hums, eyes still very much on your chest. The boy has no shame apparently. You’re pretty sure he’s dating that pretty brunette you’ve seen sneaking in and out of his house lately, so why’s he looking at you like that? “What was the AirDrop?”

“A picture of me,” you mumble. It was freezing a minute ago, but now your face feels hot. That’s weird.

“Hmm, not sure if the one I’m thinking of is you or not.” The bastard puts on his most exaggerated thinking face—like that emoji with the hand on his chin. You hate him. “What were you wearing?”

“Nothing!” you squeak at him. Both of you know no one fucking uses AirDrop except old people. He’s obviously playing dumb and knows what’s going on. He just wants to hear it from your mouth to make his ego bigger than it already is. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Pretty sure you were wearing something…” he furrows his brow, unlocking his phone to “confirm” what he saw. You snatch the phone out of his hand, but he seems to remember the contents of the photo just fine. “Ah, yes. Black strappy lingerie, right? I didn’t know you were like that, Y/N.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss as you scroll through and search for the picture in question. AirDrop must have its own stupid section on the phone because you can’t find it anywhere.

“Relax, I already deleted it,” he chuckles at how determined you are. You’re not falling for it. Surely he’s already leaked the photo on OnlyFans. You don’t have a whole lot of faith in Min Yoongi. He’s never been The Nice Guy. “Who were you trying to send it to?”

“None of your business.” He has a girlfriend, after all. Why should he care about who you’re sending those kinds of pictures to?

“My sister?”

“Fine. Yes, her.”

“You’re sneaking around sending nudes to my sister? On AirDrop?” he narrows his eyes. Why does he seem more disgusted at the AirDrop part? You’d laugh if you weren’t so stressed. “She’s in a very committed relationship, you know.”

“I’m aware.” You don’t know what’s worse—him thinking you’re hitting on his sister aka your best friend, or admitting the pic was from a photoshoot for your new job. There are no winners here. Might as well come clean. “She’s the one who asked for pics so she could fangirl over her lingerie model best friend.”

“My little Y/N grew up and became a lingerie model?” He tilts his head, intrigued. He might’ve deleted the pic from his phone, but you bet the image is forever ingrained in that fuckboy head of his. You wonder how his girlfriend feels about him thinking of other girls in that context. You’d feel shitty. He’s a horrible boyfriend. “In that case, I’d also like to show support. Mind if you send the pic ag—” 

You cut him off with a growl. His eyes slowly work their way up your bare legs to your chest to your death glare.

“I kid, I kid.” He waves his hands like a white flag so you don’t pounce on him. But then something occurs to him. His smug look turns into a frown. “Wait, so AirDropping it to me wasn’t ‘an accident’?” he asks with air quotes.

“No, it was a real accident, Yoongi,” you scoff. You can’t believe he thought you’d intentionally sent that pic to him. He’s so full of himself. He’s the last person you’d ever want to see those pics.

“Well that’s no fun.”

“Elaborate.”

“It would’ve been kinda cute if you did it to get my attention,” he shrugs, leaning his head against the doorframe. “Just like when we were younger. Remember how you’d always tug on my arm and pout until I acknowledged you?”

“No, but it’s kinda weird that you remember it.” You finally cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s also kinda weird that you want my attention when that’s what your girlfriend is there for.”

“It’s kinda weird that you keep up with my love life and know I have a girlfriend,” he fires back at you in his usual arrogant tone. “I’m breaking up with her, by the way. Just in case you wanted to know.”

You pause the petty war for a second. Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend because you accidentally sent him one (1) risqué photo of yourself? To be fair, you do look pretty hot in that photo. But still! You’ve known the guy your whole life, and all it’s ever amounted to was banter with a hint of feelings and dirty thoughts on your end. You’d always assumed Yoongi thought of you as nothing more than his little sister’s friend. Surely he’s just toying with you right now. Because that’s what fuckboys do. 

That’s what Min Yoongis do.

“Good to know,” you nod, the cold breeze coming back. You better leave now before you do something stupid again. Stupid AirDrop. “Well, I’m gonna go now. It’s fucking cold.”

You drop his phone into his palm, your fingers grazing his in the process. They’re so warm. But your fluffy blanket is warmer. And it’d never betray you.

“Thanks for only being a slight dick about the pic,” you say, scurrying off to your doorstep.

“Anytime,” he smirks. Asshole. “I’ll AirDrop you later.”

“I don’t want your dick pics, sir.” You hear his laugh before closing the door.

A minute later, you get an AirDrop of what you hope is not in fact a dick pic. You accept it immediately. It’s a blurry selfie of him on his bed, flipping you off with an emphasis on how much extra mattress space he has. That has to be the quickest breakup of all time. They don’t call him a fuckboy for nothing.

He accompanies the selfie with a simple text:

Yoongi🗿 [2:03AM] “Your loss”

The rest of the night is spent staring at the extra space next to him on his bed. He’s taunting you. Teasing you. Tempting you to do something you’ll surely regret. Well, you’re not taking the bait. The accidental AirDrop was an honest mistake, but this one would be all on you. Because you understand the risks.

It’s best to keep things how they are between you two.

After a night of tossing and turning, your week somehow gets worse. Your car decides to malfunction fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to be at work. You swear it was working perfectly yesterday. Then again, you don’t know shit about cars.

Your first instinct is to call Mo. You like to think of yourself as a prepared person, but shit happens. And when shit happens, Mo is your person—your one phone-a-friend. But you know she’s with Namjoon, and you know she’d drop everything including him for you—you’d do the same for her. You’d rather not be a cockblock when things are going so well for them.

Alternatively, you would’ve borrowed your parents’ car, but they moved into a nicer place a few years ago and reluctantly left you behind after a lot of convincing on your end. You can handle yourself, you told them. And it was going great—until The AirDrop Incident happened and your car refused to start up for no fucking reason. 

Uber and public transportation are other options, but you don’t have time to wait for those rides to arrive. You need to leave in the next 30 seconds or risk being late. Your new job is on the line here.

And that’s why you find yourself, once again, at Min Yoongi’s doorstep. You hate it here.

He opens the door and blinks his heavy lids at you several times before saying anything. Poor boy. The morning sun is too bright for him, like a cat waking up from its first nap of the day. And yet, he still manages to look so attractive with that messy hair and furrowed brow. You bet the raspiness in his voice is even more seductive in the morning. It is.

“Are we really doing this again?” he asks, pointing his finger back and forth between you and him. At least he’s awake enough to realize shit like this shouldn’t be happening two days in a row. You’re sick of it too.

“I need to be at a shoot in like ten minutes, and my car is fucked up right now, so…” You wish the boy would finish the sentence for you, but he’s just standing there like a smug ass. You’d shove him over, but you’re going to be late and he’s your only option. So you swallow your pride, just this once. “Do you think you can give me a ride?”

He makes some sort of grunt and says, “I’ll be out in a sec,” before shutting the door in your face. You’ll take that over the teasing you were expecting. Must be too early for the banter.

As soon as you get into his car, you realize you were horribly wrong. The false sense of security got you good. Apparently, it’s never too early for banter.

“What would you do without me, hm?” he asks, looking more awake and alive than ever before. Glowing, even. You knew it. He gets a kick out of you needing his help. He’s always been like this. One time when you were seven, your dumb ass climbed up a tree and got stuck up there like a cat. He’d only helped you down after you begged him for ten minutes straight. And although he stood right below you to break your fall in the unlikely event that you slipped, he also had a big fat smile on his face the entire time. He’s the worst.

“I’d manage.”

“I’m sure you would, Y/N.” He doesn’t sound very convinced. Kind of like your parents before they agreed to trust you on your own. “So, what’s this about lingerie and modeling?”

“Got a problem with it?” you challenge him. The very reason you haven’t told anyone else about your job aside from your best friend is that fear of judgment. As far as your parents know, you do modeling for a trendy clothing brand (you do). They just don’t know about your side hustle. You’re sure a guy like Yoongi has no problem with it, though. In fact, last night he sounded awfully eager to support your new job because it just so happens to center around two of his favorite things—tits and ass.

“Not at all,” he hums. “Just curious how it happened.”

“My ex had connections to the company,” you say.

“And you dumped him after he got you a job?” He raises his brow and laughs. What’s he so amused about? “Kind of savage, Y/N.”

“Actually, he broke up with me,” you correct him. How dare he assume you’re the savage one.

“Why would he do that?” he asks, as if it’s not normal for people to break up. Maybe it’s just his protective gene kicking in. He was the same way when he heard about your first breakup years ago.

“He said I wasn’t giving him enough,” you shrug. You’re honestly not too upset about it. It’s not like you had enough time to get attached to him anyway.

“Giving him enough what? Head?”

You glare at the boy even though you really want to laugh. He’s not entirely wrong.

“Sorry.” He does a quick glance at you as he turns the corner. Still smiling, though. “Well, if I had to guess, it had something to do with you playing hard to get.”

“I do not play hard to get,” you say with a firm hmph. 

“You’re certainly not making it easy now,” he frowns. Okay, maybe he has a point. But in your defense, the trait rubbed off on you from Yoongi himself. You spent your entire childhood chasing after him and wound up with nothing. You worked your ass off for any sort of reciprocated feelings from him, only for him to continue to treat you like an annoying child as you both grew older. 

By the time college came around, you were tired of doing all the chasing and thought you’d finally outgrown that neediness for him. You told yourself it was better that way, to keep him as nothing more than a bittersweet childhood memory. And you moved on. For once, you just wanted to be desired and admired by someone as deeply as you’d felt for Yoongi.

And when you think about it, all of your past relationships might have relied too much on the thrill of the chase. You never thought about what came after. You never envisioned a future beyond the chase. That’s why those relationships were so quick to fizzle out. You didn’t give them a reason to stick around. 

You didn’t give them enough.

Yoongi unlocks the doors as he pulls up in front of the building for the shoot. You unbuckle your seatbelt and thank him on the way out like he’s your Uber driver.

But then he goes off script. “When should I pick you up?”

You weren’t expecting a ride home. After your car died on you, you’d immediately changed from your cute ankle boots into sneakers in preparation for the long walk home after work. In fact, you would’ve opted to walk to work too if you had enough time. Like you said before, you can handle yourself just fine. Ever since you found your footing as a model and started living alone, you’ve stopped relying on anyone else.

“No need. I’ll walk home,” you gently decline, kicking your white sneakers up for him to see. 

Still, you can’t pretend like it doesn’t feel nice that the boy offered you another ride. It’s a subtle gesture, but it lets you know he’s watching out for you. There’s at least one person you can count on, even when your best friend and family aren’t around. And that’s already more than you could ever ask for.

“We can grab dinner after,” he suggests, leaning his arms against the steering wheel. You know exactly what he’s doing—playing to your weakness and bribing you with food. Because that’s the one thing you rarely ever say no to. You’ve always been that way.

“Okay, sure. I’ll be done around six.” 

It’s fine. You’ll pay for his meal as thanks for the rides. Then you’re even. 

The first half of the shoot goes well. The lingerie they’ve picked out for you is super pretty, and the assistant said you get to keep your favorite set after the day wraps up. Right now, you’re feeling pretty fucking good despite the stressful night and morning you had. 

During your lunch break, you find some shameless texts waiting for you.

Yoongi🗿 [10:34AM] “My friend would like you to send pics of your wardrobe😌”

Yoongi🗿 [10:34AM] “For science”

For science. Your smile flattens just a little. You get that he’s just teasing you, but part of you really wonders if he’s only paying this much attention to you because of your job and the picture you’d AirDropped to him. All you are to him is a hot body to look at. That’s the only reason he broke up with his girlfriend, isn’t it? 

If you hadn’t been a dumbass and sent him that photo, he would’ve simply dropped you off at work like the silent Uber driver he was supposed to be. And that would’ve been the end of it. There wouldn’t have been a “let’s get dinner after” or a “send pics of your skimpy lingerie.”

And yet, this is exactly what you’d been yearning for since age five—his attention.

If you really wanted to, you could play along and send him a teaser of the lingerie you decided to take home—a polka-dot mesh set that is very seethrough. You could even drop it in his lap when he picks you up later and tell him it’s a souvenir. That’d get his attention for sure. 

But you’re not going to do that. Obviously. Instead, you send him a boring pic of a rack with empty hangers. Because that’s playing it safe.

Yoongi🗿 [12:58PM] “Going nude today?”

Yoongi🗿 [12:58PM] “Or are those micro thongs getting smaller?🧐”

Yoongi🗿 [12:59PM] “Hello”

You wheeze. He’s lucky you’ve known him since birth. If it were any other guy, you’d ghost him for saying shit like that. Then again, he’s only saying it because he knows he can get away with it with you. 

Y/N🐣 [1:00PM] “i have to get back to work now🫡”

When you finally reach the homestretch of the shoot, you’re tired and more than a little hungry. It’s been a long day, but you want to finish strong before indulging in a nice dinner with you-know-who. You decided you want to take him to your favorite new sushi spot. Not because you know he loves sushi but because it’s what you happen to be craving today.

While sitting down on the fluffiest rug your ass has ever felt, you model a pretty white set with lots of ties like a bikini. Just a few more photos to go, and then you can get your sushi with your Uber driver. But then your starved brain starts to fuck with you.

Just off to the side behind the camera, you see a shadow that looks a lot like Yoongi. You know it’s not actually him, though. It’s just a hallucination spawning from your cravings. Your cravings for sushi, you clarify to yourself.

Then the shadow crosses his arms and smirks as you get on your knees and press an innocent finger to your bottom lip like you’re just asking for your mouth to be filled. As soon as the camera captures a few shots, your eyes dart back to check on the shadow. He gives you a thumbs up.

That’s not a shadow.

Suddenly, your cheeks are hot and your chest is pounding. He’s not supposed to be here. How are you supposed to focus when you know your childhood friend is watching? You have all these eyes on your body as it is, but he’s the only one that really gets you flustered. More flustered than your first day on the job here.

“Can we redo that shot one more time, please?” the photographer asks. “Relax your shoulders a bit, honey.”

You drop your shoulders, but that’s not going to hide the way your heart is practically pounding out of your chest that you know he’s got his eyes glued to.

“Actually, can I take a quick water break?” You shoot up from the rug, take a long sip of water, grab your thin little robe, and drag your unwanted visitor off to the side.

“Hi to you, too,” he says, glancing down at the way your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“What are you doing here?” Your shaky tone screams of unease. When he said he’d pick you up, you weren’t expecting him to actually go in like a parent picking up their kid from school. He was supposed to stay put in his car where you’d meet him after work. That was the plan. Not this.

He studies your face as if he’s debating whether or not you’re being serious right now, as if he expected you to be happy to see him. After building up the anticipation for several seconds more, he has the audacity to say, “Just here to show my support for my lingerie model neighbor.”

Why did you even bother asking? You should’ve known. He just confirmed what you’d hoped wasn’t true. He’s only paying any attention to you because of that dirty image you ingrained in his head with that dumb AirDrop.

And to be honest, you’re kind of over it. Maybe it’s just your empty stomach raging, but he should know that this is crossing the line. He’s your neighbor for crying out loud. He’d seen you lose your two front teeth, gone trick-or-treating with you, witnessed your awkward teen phase, and all that other wholesome childhood shit. Sure, he gave you a hard time every step of the way, but his presence in your life and the memories you made together were all you ever wanted to protect. 

That’s why you chose to stay behind when your parents moved away. You were fine with being away from your own family, and you were even fine when Mo started spending more time with Namjoon. But Yoongi has always been a different case.

You gave up on seeing him in a romantic way after realizing it just wasn’t realistic. If you’d let yourself feel that way any longer, he’d eventually have to reject you, and then that would be the end of it. And you’d much rather keep him in your life than risk it all with a dumb confession of unrequited love. He doesn’t love you, and you’re okay with that.

You just wish he wouldn’t make it so painfully obvious that it’s only your body that he’s after. Because that’s when it might be easier on your heart to cut ties with him.

“I work better when you’re not here.” You let go of his wrist and don’t look up from the red mark your tight grip left on his pale skin. You’re not going to let his charm sway you. He needs to leave. Nothing good can come out of him being here.

So he backs away and leaves.

As you tie your sneakers and refill your water bottle in preparation for the long walk home, you let out a big sigh. Looks like you won’t be getting your sushi fix tonight. Stupid AirDrop.

You wave bye to the crew and claim your free lingerie before stepping outside. To your surprise, it’s already dark out even though you thought the sun wasn’t supposed to set until seven. If you squint hard enough, you swear you can see Yoongi’s car parked in the lot. 

So you try not to squint.

But as soon as you walk past the car, your feet make a u-turn until you can see the boy leaning back in his seat, eyes closed and arms folded against his chest. You might still be upset, but you can’t deny how good-looking he is. It’s not fair. The only reason you stop staring is to avoid judgment from anyone passing by. And because you kind of need to talk to him.

You knock on the window on the passenger side.

He doesn’t even flinch.

You knock again. Still nothing. Either he’s dead, or he’s just fucking with you. He better not be fucking with you when you’re mad. Read the room, asshole.

Trying your best not to throw your phone at his window, you instead use it to call him. His phone screen blinds you as it flashes on in the darkness and vibrates against his thigh.

This time you catch the slightest twitch of his pretty pink lips. They’re glowing in the light of his phone screen.

You walk around to the driver’s side and get a better look at his glowy handsome face. “I know you’re awake.”

Now he has a full smile to accompany his closed eyelids, cosplaying as a happy corpse.

You roll your eyes at him and start walking in the opposite direction. “All good, I’ll just walk home.”

The doors unlock real quick. The corpse snaps out of his eternal slumber. “Hey, I was kidding,” he calls out the window. “Come back here.”

For the second time in the past three minutes, you make a u-turn toward his car. But this time, you hop in, hesitant to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t think you’d still be waiting here…” You bite your lip. You wish he weren’t still here. Then you wouldn’t be forced to talk about what happened earlier. It’d be much easier to not talk about your feelings.

“You agreed to grab dinner with me afterward, didn’t you?” He’s acting like you didn’t banish him from the building twenty minutes ago. He’s acting like you could’ve told him to never speak to you again and he’d still be waiting here because of some promise you’d both made earlier in the day. He would’ve been waiting here for you no matter what. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten that upset. Time to go in over-two-decades-of-history-preservation mode.

“Yeah but… I kind of overreacted earlier. Then again, I don’t know how else I’m supposed to react when my neighbor sees me half-naked,” you say, shrinking in your seat. “I still meant what I said, though. I work a lot better when you’re not around because you make it hard to focus.”

You immediately regret admitting that last bit.

“It’s understandable that you get so flustered around me. Kind of cute, too,” he hums like he just won the lottery. Mother fucker. “But I should’ve just been honest with you earlier.”

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head like a lost puppy.

“Someone obviously hasn’t checked their phone in a while,” he chuckles, pointing to the pink phone resting atop the mesh lingerie in your bag. You grab your phone and shove the lingerie deeper into your bag until it’s out of his view. Hopefully, he didn’t notice.

Sure enough, you have more unread texts waiting for you beneath the thirsty ones from lunch.

Yoongi🗿 [6:29PM] “Is the shoot running late?”

Yoongi🗿 [6:29PM] “No rush btw. Just want to make sure you didn’t die in the bathroom or something haha”

Yoongi🗿 [7:01PM] “So should I be concerned or”

Yoongi🗿 [7:02PM] “Just to clarify, I don’t believe you’re deceased in the bathroom”

Yoongi🗿 [7:02PM] “But I am gonna go in and check lol”

Then you realize how late it is. It’s over an hour past the time you told Yoongi you’d be done. No wonder it’s fucking dark out.

Your whole mind is spinning, and you have a lot of questions. You turn to him, and the first thing you ask is, “You thought I died in the bathroom?”

“You were running late, not responding, and, well… I had to check,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t know the lady at the front desk was going to bring me right to the shoot.” So he had good intentions after all. He wasn’t just after your body—far from it, in fact. He was genuinely worried about you. 

Well, shit. Now you look like the asshole for telling him to fuck off after he thought to check up on you like a guardian angel. He should’ve just said so in the first place. But maybe it’s hard for him to admit that sort of thing, too. You can relate.

You still feel bad, though. Doubt had clouded your better judgment because of your own insecurities. You didn’t believe what he was doing for you was unconditional. But the truth is, he cares about you more than you know. He always has.

Was Yoongi completely and utterly crushed after you’d asked him to leave your photoshoot? Yes. But he wasn’t going to show that to you. After all, as far as you knew, he’d only dropped by to check you out in that pretty lingerie. That’s always been his biggest downfall. He’s never been fully honest with you. It’s understandable that you’d be frustrated with him.

You had every right to be mad at him for interfering with your work. You had every right to walk away right past his car after the shoot. And yet, you still chose to sit down beside him to salvage whatever it is between you and him. It’s always been complicated like this, but it’s worth all the petty bickering you guys do on a daily basis. Seeing you so flustered and cute makes it all worth it.

The last thing he wants is for you to slip through his fingers. Because a world without you would just be weird. And boring. And lonely.

And now you’re rambling on about sushi—his favorite food. You claim you’ve been craving it all day, but it’s not very convincing.

“Hey, the sushi place is the other way,” you frown as he turns left instead of right. “You’re the worst Uber driver ever. I’m leaving you a one-star review.”

“I thought you didn’t like sushi,” he points out, completely ignoring your Karen threat.

“Yeah, when I was like ten. I’m allowed to change what I like, aren’t I?” You make a good point. Maybe your taste buds have changed and you aren’t just catering to his preferences. But it’s in his nature to keep pushing your buttons, to keep getting a reaction out of you. That’s the one thing he knows will never change between you and him.

“You were cuter when you didn’t like sushi.”

“Fuck you.” You turn your head away from him and toward the window to hide your face. He can still see your reflection, though. For such harsh words, your expression is soft. 

It’s funny because that’s what Yoongi has always liked most about you. You’re a tough cookie—you know it, he knows it, everyone knows it—but the best cookies are the ones with soft centers. And he loves to devour and savor that soft side you only seem to show him.

About ten minutes later, he pulls up to a drive-thru you’ll surely recognize. He doesn’t go there often himself, but whenever he does, he’s reminded of those Halloween nights spent scaring the shit out of you before spending his allowance to buy you a kid’s meal with a dumb light-up pumpkin toy. He’s reminded of the time you broke up with your first boyfriend and needed someone to rant to over vanilla milkshakes and fries. He’s reminded of the past two decades the two of you shared together, no matter how silly or short-lived the moments were. He’s cherished all of it.

It might not be the sushi you’d hoped for, but your eyes light up when you see the fast food sign. You lean in closer to him to get a better look at the menu. Today you smell like fruit and—he goes in for another sniff by your neck, purely to identify the intoxicating scent you’re wearing—something floral. 

“Ooh, order me the nugget combo with an iced coffee,” you finally glance at him, mid-sniff, with the eyes of an angel. He knew you’d appreciate the fast food.

“You and your nuggets. What are you? A baby?” he chuckles before being greeted and prompted to order over the speaker. “Can we get a burger combo with iced coffee, one kid’s meal with nuggets and milk—” 

You give his shoulder a small shove. 

He smirks but otherwise continues on as if nothing happened, “—and a nugget combo with iced coffee.”

“So a total of two combos and one kid’s meal?” the employee double-checks.

“Actually—”

“Yeah,” he cuts you off and drives to the pick-up window before you could protest and cancel the kid’s meal order.

“Why do you need a kid’s meal?” you mumble as the employee hands off the big bag of food to Yoongi. You’re so cute when you’re pouty.

“It’s for you, obviously.” He pulls into a spot in the empty lot and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Why do you always treat me like a baby?” That’s the question you ask as you take the kid’s meal box from his hand and start snacking on the few nuggets it comes with.

Because you’re tiny and cute and need to be protected at all costs, he wants to say. Instead he goes with the safer option. “Because you’re my little sister’s friend.”

“But Mo’s rarely ever around anymore. I feel like I’m spending more time with you than her at this point.” That’s true. Her and Namjoon have basically become inseparable. That must suck at least a little for you. 

“I personally wouldn’t let that slide.” As much as Yoongi loves his sister and knows she’d do anything for you if you asked, he also knows you’re not the type to reach out unless you really need to. If Mo understood you the way he understands you, she’d know to check in with you, to send you the occasional random meme in case you’re having a bad day, and to remind you that you aren’t alone. 

But that’s where he comes in. 

“It’s fine, I’m happy for her and Namjoon. Last I heard, she’s waiting for the proposal.” You set down the empty kid’s meal box and move on to your actually dinner. He has to resist the urge to pick the little nugget crumb off the corner of your lips.

“You don’t feel left behind?” he asks. It’s crazy to think his little sister could be getting married soon. Meanwhile, he’s watched you cycle through several boyfriends without much luck. His own love situation isn’t much different, but that’s what happens when no relationship has inspired him to do the things he does for you. Your presence in his life is more than just love and lust. 

Everything you are to him is unconditional.

You shake your head at his question as you glance up at the stars through the windshield. “There’s only one person I’d ever feel left behind by.”

If it’s not Mo or your family, then surely it’s the guy you’ve been chasing after all these years, the guy who teases you because you have a cute pout, the guy who’s been with you every step of the way. The one guy you didn’t want to see your lingerie photos in fear of ruining everything. Surely it’s him you’d be hurt by most if you lost him.

“He’s not going anywhere, Y/N,” he assures you.

You continue to study the stars in silence. There are no shooting stars out tonight, but what you’re looking for isn’t a wish. “Is that a promise?”

He nods. The easiest nod of his life. “That’s how it’s always been, right?”

You nod back. It’s always been you and him. Nothing could ever erase that history you’ve both been trying so hard to protect. There’s no need to play it safe anymore. The history between you and him is stronger than that.

As a way to transition out of the sappy stuff, you reach down and grab the toy from the kid’s meal—a tiny soft cat, probably from a baby cartoon or whatever. You have an awfully big smile on your face for someone who complained about ordering the kid’s meal in the first place. 

Without thinking, Yoongi snatches the cat out of your grasp and dangles it by the tail in front of your eyes. “I’ll be keeping this.”

“I thought you said it was my kid’s meal.” You swing your little paw at him to reclaim your prize, but he’s too quick, holding the cat captive just out of your reach. It’s incredible how easy you are to taunt, especially over something as silly as a toddler toy. Maybe he’s just become a pro at it with over two decades of experience.

After unbuckling your seatbelt, you practically lunge over the center console and lean your weight on the edge of his seat with one hand while the other reaches for the cat, now pressed against the window on Yoongi’s side. He can smell your pretty perfume again, and he’s going to make it last as long as possible.

He brings the cat forward until it’s an inch away from your hand to encourage you to stretch just a tad closer to him. It apparently works, because the hand supporting your body has moved onto his thigh to give you the extra bit of reach. 

If you’re both not careful, you might fall into his lap. He wouldn’t mind it of course, but then you’d feel how hard he’s getting just from having your hand on his thigh like that. Your sweet scent isn’t helping his situation either.

“Say please and it’s all yours.” He lets out an awkward half-cough after inhaling a large dose of your perfume. Very smooth, Yoongi.

You narrow your eyes at him before backing off. His thigh can finally breathe, not that it wanted to. “I don’t need it that bad.”

Aww, you’re acting all tough again. Yoongi slips the cat plush into his pocket with a smirk. “See? Playing hard to get.”

“I swear I’m only like this with you. You drive me mad,” you let out a dramatic sigh.

That’s right. He affects you in a way no one else does. “Good.”

“No, not good.” You wiggle a finger at him as you scan the receipt and pull out your phone. Several seconds later, he gets a notification of you sending him money for all the food.

“You could’ve at least let me pay for the kid’s meal.” Especially after he pocketed the cat.

“I’m just paying you back for all the rides so far.” So far? Interesting choice of words.

“Does that mean you’re going to need another one tomorrow?” He takes another sip of his coffee.

“I don’t know, maybe. I’m getting my car looked at tomorrow morning before work, but…” You have that ashamed look on your face again for having to ask for another ride. You’re not a burden to him. Ever.

“Got it. I’ll be on standby. Just AirDrop me if—”

“Enough with the AirDrop.” You give him another feisty shove and almost knock his coffee out of his hand. Even if the coffee had stained his whole car, he would’ve forgiven you immediately because your smile is so pretty. He’s just happy you’re back to being playful with him. “If I need anything, I’ll let you know. Thank you, Yoongi.”

On the drive home, you tell him more about your job with such a glow. The days might be long sometimes, but the crew has been so sweet, and the photographer “knows how to make you look good.” The photographer could be terrible and you’d still look amazing. There’s no doubt in Yoongi’s mind about that.

You also mention something about special little perks, too.

“Special little perks like what?” he asks, more curious than he’d like to be.

“Guess.” Why are you tempting him like this?

“Does it have something to do with the lingerie in your bag?”

You blink at him like a deer in headlights. Uh oh. “You were supposed to pretend like you didn’t see that.”

“See what?” he plays along. Good save, Yoongi.

You give him a thumbs-up and smile the rest of the way home.

After parking in the space in front of his house, Yoongi takes a five-second look at your car right behind his. It looks perfectly fine. Whatever the issue is, it’s not visible from the outside, but hopefully it stays broken for a while.

“Is it actually broken or did you just say that to score a ride from the handsome guy next door?” he teases.

“The latter, obviously,” you deadpan before switching over to the most precious giggle ever. You’re so fucking cute. “Thanks for the ride, Handsome Guy Next Door.”

“No problem.” He watches, amused, as you dig through the lingerie in your bag to find your keys. He’d turn on the flashlight on his phone to help you see better, but he’s supposed to be ignoring that mesh polka-dotted lingerie. That’s what a good and respectful neighbor would do. 

Fuck it. He immediately breaks down and shines a light on the sheer bralette and g-string (and your keys). It’d look so pretty on you.

You grab your keys and shoo away his shameless horny eyes. That’s his cue to leave things as they are, just as he had the night before. If you wanted something more, you’d let him know. He’s already assured you everything will be fine between you and him no matter what.

Just as he unlocks his door, you stop him in his tracks.

“Yoongi, wait.”

He turns around, a little too eager some might say. You haven’t even said anything else, but he’s already ready to say yes to whatever it is.

You dig around in your bag again. He catches a glimpse of the mesh fabric between your fingers. He’ll take a souvenir any day.

But then you toss it back in your bag and hum an innocent, “Never mind, it’s nothing.”

You’re such a tease. Oh how the tables have turned.

As soon as you close the door behind you, you kick off your white sneakers, and take the teeny tiny lingerie with you to your room.

You saw how quick he was to turn around when you called out to him. You saw how he practically drooled at the lingerie in your bag. He wasn’t ready for the night to end either.

Piece by piece, you toss your clothes aside and replace them with the mesh polka-dotted triangles. Your little nipples are so visible through the thin pieces of cloth. Good.

Then you take a quick bed selfie, just like Yoongi had one night ago. And you lay it all out there. You’re done hiding and suppressing your feelings for him. Because no matter what happens between the two of you, even if the night doesn’t go the way you hope, you’re not going to lose him. That’s what was promised in his car.

So, one last time, you AirDrop him a photo of yourself in lingerie. He accepts it immediately.

Then you text him.

Y/N🐣 [8:18PM] “you asked for a pic of my wardrobe earlier didnt you?”

Y/N🐣 [8:18PM] “btw knock on my door rn or youre a coward😡”

You’re really doing it. There’s no going back now.

You throw a hoodie over your shoulders and leave it unzipped as you pace back and forth in the hall. You always wondered why you get so antsy when it’s just Min Yoongi. It’s literally just the guy you’ve lived next to your entire life. But that’s the hold he has on you. The mere thought of being with him never fails to excite you. Those are the kind of butterflies you get with him.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest when you hear his knock. You swing the door open before you can chicken out.

Of course his eyes immediately fall on your chest. He almost forgets to speak.

“What pic were you talking about? Did you send something?” he asks, still very much concentrated on your nipples.

Wait.

“You didn’t get the AirDrop?” Not this again. The granny across the street probably did get it this time. You want to wrap yourself up in your fluffy warm blanket and permanently disable that stupid phone feature once and for all. No, it’s not a stupid feature. You’re just stupid for using it.

“You’re so fun to fuck with, Y/N,” he laughs right in your face. “Yes, I got your cute little photo.”

“Stop teasing me,” you pout. Here you are, trying to look all hot for him, and he’s still finding ways to fuck with you. He’s so mean.

“I could ask the same of you.” Yoongi slips his index finger into your bralette between your breasts. He tugs on the stretchy band until it snaps back against your skin. “Or maybe you don’t realize what you do to me when I see you like this.”

“I don’t,” you play innocent as you pull him inside and shut the door behind him. You’d love to be enlightened about what your body does to him just by existing. A demonstration would be much appreciated. The more detail, the better.

He pushes you back against the wall in the narrow hallway and pins you there. You try to distract yourself by staring at the tiny speck of coffee on his white sweater but a strong hand cups your chin and lifts it so you can’t run from his gaze. His eyes are dark.“It's so fucked up how many times I’ve gotten off at the thought of my little sister’s friend in nothing but lingerie.”

Funny, you’ve always thought it was fucked up of you to lust over him given how close you’d been throughout your childhood. You cringe at the thought of Mo learning about all the unholy fantasies you’ve had of her brother—him fucking you against the wet walls of his shower, him shoving his cock down your throat until you cry, and even him tying you up on the bed and doing whatever he wants with your body. Your delusional self has thought about it all with him.

But now you know he’s felt the same way all along.

You slide your hands up his chest to his neck as your eyes hone in on his glossy lips. For as long as you could remember, you’ve always wondered what Min Yoongi tastes like. In your dreams, he tasted of creamy vanilla milkshakes. But now, in this moment…?

You lean in and press your breasts into his chest, but he pulls back just before you can get a taste of those lips.

“I always knew you had a thing for me,” he smirks. The teasing never stops. But that’s what you’ve signed your life away for. “If you want to kiss me so bad, say it.”

The stubborn you who “plays hard to get” would never admit that. The you right now, on the other hand, is yearning, desperate, and painfully horny. In this state, you’d get down on your hands and knees so quick.

“I want to kiss you, you ass—” Your mumble is cut off by his lips. They taste like the iced coffee from earlier with a hint of salt. You want more of it.

Your tongue gets tangled with his. It’s sloppy, but you’ve had enough of keeping it clean with him. You’ve played it safe for far too long.

His hands grab your breasts as he lets out a low moan inside your throat. Funny how perfectly your chest fits in his large hands. When he gives them a squeeze, you lean into him more. Anything to get more of his touch.

But then he slides a hand down your belly and works a few fingers around the fabric between your legs. They glide between your folds so smoothly.

“Did you get this wet just from a little kiss and touch? Poor thing.” He holds up the proof of your lust before licking it off his fingers with that tongue. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

The next thing you know, your hoodie is gone and he’s carrying you off to your room. As soon as your back hits the mattress, he climbs on top of you, bombarding you with more kisses until you’re out of breath.

Your hands fidget with the hem of his sweater until he gets the memo that you want it off. Seeing him shirtless is nothing new—you’ve seen him casually walk out of the shower in nothing more towel on multiple occasions while hanging out with Mo next door, hence all your the shower fantasies. But in this context, with him on top of you on your bed, the butterflies just keep coming.

As the two of you continue to makeout, you unzip him. It’s your turn to slip your hand into his pants. He’s huge, just like your fantasies. You’re not sure your inexperienced throat can handle it.

“You haven’t even seen it yet, and you’re drooling,” he purrs when he leans back to get a good look at your current status—starved for his cock. “Does my cute little neighbor love having her mouth filled with cock?”

“I haven’t…” Your words trail off when you see his erection in full. Your hands latch back on to it like gravity. There’s no way this’ll fit down your throat without making you gag. You lick your lips.

“Wait, this isn’t the first time you’re—”

“I’ve had sex,” you clarify. “Just haven’t given a blowjob…” 

It still feels weird to admit these kinds of things to your neighbor. You’ve always been more careful and closed off about your sex life than him. Meanwhile, you swear you’ve heard the whimpers and moans of all the girls he’s pleasured on the other side of your wall. You’ve never heard the sounds he makes during sex, though.

“How innocent. Depriving yourself of tasting it for this long.” Now he’s got a big ol’ smile on his face as you lie on your stomach and kiss along his length. “You won’t be so innocent by the time I’m done with you.”

You don’t want to be innocent with him anymore.

When you finally take him into your mouth, it’s easy. You swirl your tongue around as you bob your head up and down him. The taste isn’t nearly as bad as you’d thought. In fact, you kind of like it. Or maybe you’re just too horny to care. 

But then you decide you want to gag. So you push your mouth further down his length. The slightest tickle against the back of your throat practically has your whole body jerk in protest. You pull back and let yourself breathe before wrapping your lips back around him.

“Hey, easy,” he chuckles, holding your hair back. “Deepthroating is too advanced for you. You’re still a baby.”

You’ll let the baby comment slide only because you’re too focused on sucking his cock. You wouldn’t mind doing this all night. It could easily become your new addiction.

“Mm,” you moan as flick your eyes up at him. His mouth is open, panting, still trying to fight off the feral instincts you so easily gave in to. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Not bad for a first-time blowjob.

“So good,” he praises as he watches your mouth working so hard along his length. You’ve finally earned some praise from him. After all these fucking years. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

The next time you come up for air, he wipes his thumb along your lip to clean you up before flipping you over onto your back. You’d love to suck the glaze off his thumb, but the selfish bastard does it for you right in front of your face.

“I know you’ve grown quite attached to sucking my cock, but I’d like to know how your other hole feels, if that’s alright with you.”

You nod, knowing just how soaked your g-string got while sucking him off. After wiggling out of it and tossing it aside, you spread your legs out for him like a well-trained slut.

He uses his fingers again to make sure you’re coated enough. You feel two curl inside you. Then a third. His thumb brushes gently over your clit exactly one time.

“Fuck,” you whimper from the jolt of pleasure. He needs to do it again.

But he doesn’t.

So you run your own two fingers around your clit as his slip in and out of you. He watches the rhythm of your fingers going around and around like a hypnotic spiral. That smirk is creeping back up again.

“So that’s how my neighbor touches herrself,” he nods like the enthusiastic spectator he is. “That’s how you touch yourself for me.”

You continue to tease your little bud as he grabs a condom from the ass pocket of his jeans and slides it down his length. Finally. Fucking finally.

Your horny little body pounces on top of him, your thighs straddling him beneath you. His cock presses against your ass as you strip off your bralette and lean over to kiss him some more. You’d leave him a nice hickey, but you hate the thought of Mo bringing it up as “a byproduct of another one of his meaningless flings.”

Instead of thinking about that, you grab his cock from behind and ease yourself onto him. You’re sure his ego just got a boost from the amount of time it took you to adjust to his size.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna be That Guy who comments on your tight little pussy.” Asshole.

Then you start sliding yourself up and down his cock. You gasp immediately. It feels so fucking good to finally have him inside you.

The boy doesn’t waste any time, either. His hands work their way up your waist back to your breasts. He gives your nipples a few pinches and is delighted to learn just how sensitive you are over there. You toss your head back with each little pinch.

As the pleasure builds, you feel him thrusting back beneath you. Your ass is practically bouncing off his thighs with each thrust. If you don’t hold onto his shoulders, you might fall off of him, which would be quite the tragedy because you happen to like the feeling of his cock pounding inside of you. 

“More…” you huff against his neck. “Harder…”

At your request, he gets back on top and takes the lead, ramming himself in and out of you. You knew Yoongi was a strong guy, but you’ve never been fucked this hard before. Perhaps this is what years of all that sexual tension have amounted to.

You let out another loud moan, this time crying out his name. You should be afraid of Mo coming back from Namjoon’s and hearing the way you cry her brother’s name with such lust. You shouldn’t show what a dirty little slut you’ve become for him. But you’re mind isn’t functioning anymore. Not with him fucking you silly like that.

“I’m gonna—” you yelp.

He speeds up and pounds harder into you until you’re overcome by your orgasm. The wave of pleasure washes over you as you feel your walls tightening around him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, feeling just how tight you can go. He should be grateful for your tight little pussy. Especially if his high was as good as yours.

As you catch your breath, your thoughts start to come back to you. You’re certainly not looking forward to the conversation you’re gonna have to have with Mo later. But you know it was worth it. And you know you don’t regret anything that happened tonight. It was long overdue, anyway.

Yoongi, on the otherhand, might still have his head in the clouds because he’s just lying down on your pillow with the goofiest smile. He’s been smiling a lot more lately.

“Do you remember that time you invited me to your little tea party in here?” he asks out of nowhere.

“No,” you lie. 

Of course you remember it. You were probably five or six and you’d just watched some teen show where the main girl asked her love interest out on a lunch date. Your naive self was inspired to do the same, but with your love interest—your Yoongi. And initially he said no because he’s mean like that. That was your first heartbreak.

But then he turned around later and crashed the tea party you’d set up for your sobbing self and your teddy bear. He claimed he’d only stick around for the shortbread cookies, but you’re starting to think there was more to it.

“Well I do,” he admits. “That was the first time I thought you were kinda cute.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah, kinda cute. Because you were also an annoying little brat, you know that?” This is just slander.

“Well I appreciate you putting up with this kinda cute annoying brat for all these years,” you mutter. “No one was forcing you to.”

“I know, that’s my point.” He pinches your cheek. “Even if I tried to run, you always somehow found a way to cling onto me. Like a leech.”

“Okay, buddy, I’ve had enough of this slander,” you hiss in his arms under the blankets. “If you’re going to say something nice, just say it already. No more of your dumb leech metaphors.”

“You’ve always had a hold on me, Y/N.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead—the first of many, you hope. “And I feel like a lot happened in the past day, but that’s only one small part of what this is.”

“This” as in you and him.

“Like one page in a history book,” you chime in. “Or like a chapter in a memoir, or the chorus of a song, or—”

He chuckles at your rambling because it’s apparently “so fucking cute” to him. What else would you expect? If one page in the history book is dedicated to the past 24 hours, 10,000 pages are filled with him teasing you, you chasing him, and everything in between. 

Yoongi turns his gaze your way. You’re looking out the window of the plane, lost in thought.

There are always words on the tip of his tongue when he looks at you, and only his sheer stubbornness to hold them back.

He’d wanted to say how touched he was that you’d organised this trip for his birthday, but the words had retreated when you’d snorted at his passport photo.

You’d turned to him, voice dry as you’d said, ‘of course you’d have a gorgeous passport photo. My perfect chaebol husband.’

Yoongi hadn’t heard a question, so he hadn’t given an answer.

You’d skipped onto the plane ahead of him, getting settled in, and when the flight attendant had offered Yoongi champagne he’d turned to you to realise you were already asleep, face in your hand in a way that made his heart tug dangerously.

He’s finishing off some work when he realises you’re awake and watching him. 

‘Did you bring your glasses?’ you ask. 

‘I forgot them when you kidnapped me out of my office,’ Yoongi replies. He means it as a joke but your mouth turns down slightly at the corner.

‘Sorry,’ you say. ‘You have that shareholders meeting tomorrow, too, don’t you?’

You look down at your lap. ‘I didn’t know you had an important meeting. I would have rescheduled this trip.’

Yoongi is never sure if you’re aware of how endearing he finds your little downturned mouth when you’re sad or disappointed.

‘I can join in remotely,’ he says. ‘I’ll only need an hour.’

‘Ok,’ you say, distracted by the flight attendant bringing a tray into the cabin. There’s a silver cloche covering the contents, and Yoongi has a moment of horrified realisation just as the singing begins.

His eyes snap to yours, and he realises he’s doomed from the way you’ve got your hands clasped and are singing the birthday song with enthusiasm, if not talent.

Yoongi forces a pained smile as the flight attendant lifts the cloche to reveal a sprinkles-covered birthday cake, a funfetti monstrosity with his name on in gold letters.

He genuinely can’t think of anything that he hates more than this forced joviality.

Thankfully it’s over almost as soon as it’s begun.

Yoongi watches as you carefully cut him a slice and present it to him ceremoniously.

He takes a bite, and you say, ‘oh.’

You gesture to the corner of his mouth, and then, quickly, put a hand on his arm and use your other thumb to swipe the cream off his mouth.

‘Use your tongue next time,’ Yoongi suggests, just to watch the way your eyes widen like you’re a shocked Victorian maiden.

It always amuses him, your particular mix of shy and bratty. 

You blink once, then you say, ‘I love licking cream off you.’

Yoongi nearly chokes on his cake, eyes fixed to your face.

Your words replay in his head, and there’s no way you didn’t mean them to sound as suggestive as they did.

You’re already turning away, reaching under the seat for your sweater.

‘Seokjin said you’d like a cream cake,’ you continue, slipping your sweater on.

Yoongi catches the barest hint of a smirk just as your face disappears momentarily under a wall of cream merino.

He manages to blank his expression before your face re-emerges, hair staticky and fluffed.

‘Seokjin’s full of helpful suggestions,’ Yoongi says.

‘He is suggestive,’ you mutter.

Yoongi laughs, and your eyes brighten.

You eat your cake in silence.

Yoongi’s sneaking glances at you as you chew, and when you set your fork down, he says, ‘hey.’

You lean closer, and Yoongi smooths a lock of hair back from your forehead.

‘Yoongi,’ you say, quietly, in that voice that melts him every time, ‘did you hate the fanfare with the cake very much?’

‘Yes, my love. Did it make you happy to watch me squirm?’

You can’t hide the gleeful quirk to your lips. ‘Yes. Sorry.’

You don’t sound sorry at all, but Yoongi forgives you anyway.

He sighs, exasperated. ‘What other surprises have you got planned?’

Your conversation is interrupted by the flight attendant collecting the trays, and when Yoongi looks back at you, you’re asleep again. 

Yoongi reaches over, puts his hand on yours, and goes to sleep himself.

***

The night-time breeze is balmy but Yoongi doesn’t mind.

You’d slipped your hand into his as you started your walk along the cobblestoned streets of Avila, and he’s quite sure he’ll walk you to wherever you want to go, when you’re holding his hand like this.

You’re brushing your thumb along his knuckles, exploring the dips in between with an absent fondness that seems almost unintentional.

You turn to him, all bright and cheery despite the late hour, and Yoongi’s gaze falls to the low neck of your sundress.

He can see the tops of your breasts from here, the edge of your bra.

It’s red silk, a set he’d bought you a while ago that you’d discovered in his wardrobe and accused him of buying for himself.

Yoongi reaches out and strokes his own thumb over your collarbone, stopping at the hollow in the middle of your neck. 

He presses, hard, and you bite your lip.

‘Yoongi?’ you ask, like you haven’t been teasing him since you got off the plane, getting dressed in red silk lingerie in front of him, asking him to help with the buttons on the front of your sundress, holding his hand when you know how it affects him.

Yoongi pushes his thumb into your skin, harder, sliding his other arm around your waist to steady you as you step back, back until you’re pressed against the stone wall of the church you were about to walk past. 

‘Yoongi,’ you say, and if you have more to say Yoongi never hears it because of the blood rushing in his ears. 

He kisses you, hot and demanding, tongue slipping into your mouth like a claim. 

As always, you yield, throwing down any resistance with a willing abandon that floors him. Your hands fist handfuls of his jacket, and you tilt your head to let him kiss you deeper. 

Yoongi cups the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, not wanting your head to hit the wall.

You respond by throwing your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body to his.

Your breasts press against his chest, your hips rock against his shamelessly.

Yoongi grinds his hardening cock into your softness to let you know just how into this he is.

You’re breathless, shivering against him, and Yoongi’s about to shrug off his jacket when you slide down onto your knees in front of him.

He stares down at you, breathless, as you press your lips to his groin, mouth along the outline of his erection. 

He casts a glance around, but there’s no one to be seen in this quiet part of town, at this hour.

The night’s dark, the golden streetlights are far enough away from each other that the illumination doesn’t quite light up all the spaces in between.

You’re already unzipping his trousers, drawing him out, and you take him in with an eagerness that makes his cock leap.

God, you’re unbelievable. 

Yoongi says, ‘wait,’ hoarsely, staggers two steps back to lean against the base of a statue.

He cups the back of your head as you start sucking him down in earnest, swallowing the tip of his cock down. 

He arches his head back, glimpses the face of the statue, smiling down at him beatifically haloed by the darkness of the night sky.

You grab his ass, drag his hips forward like you’re trying to force him down you, and Yoongi’s lost, coming with a shout, spilling himself down your throat.

You lick him clean, and are zipping his pants back up when you’re pulled away from him.

You look up at him, confused.

Yoongi’s just as confused, but he doesn’t like the way the uniformed guard has your arms pinned behind you.

‘Hey,’ he starts, and then realises that another guard has slapped handcuffs on him.

You’re looking at the statue he’s leaning against.

There’s rapid-fire Spanish, beyond Yoongi’s rudimentary comprehension. The only words he can make out are ‘Santa Teresa.’

Yoongi’s bundled into the back of a police car next to you.

‘Fuck,’ you say, ‘I think they’re accusing us of defiling the statue of Saint Teresa of Avila.’

***

In the tiny cell, Yoongi shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders.

You look up at him.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. You look so upset Yoongi’s already reaching out to hold you when a single tear streaks down your cheek.

‘For getting us arrested?’ he clarifies.

Instead of giggling like he expected you to, you let out a sob, and Yoongi, alarmed, tips your chin up to see your face.

‘It’s not the first time I’ve been arrested, don’t worry,’ he says, trying to be reassuring.

‘I’ve never been in jail before,’ you sob.

Yoongi strokes your hair. 

‘Technically we’re not in jail,’ he stutters, flustered by your tears.

Your eyes flick to his, like you can’t believe how terrible he is at trying to comfort you when you’re crying.

In all honesty, Yoongi can’t blame you. 

‘I called Seokjin, he’s getting my lawyers involved,’ Yoongi continues, because you’re still staring at him. ‘We’ll be out of here in no time.’

‘Your meeting,’ you say, gulping. ‘It’s in six hours.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Yoongi says, quietly. 

Your tears have stopped, and he can practically see the gears in your head turning as you get up and start pacing the cell.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, stopping in front of him.

‘For what?’ Yoongi scoffs. ‘Giving me the best blowjob of my life against the statue of the patron saint of Avila?’

You let out a giggle that sounds completely involuntary.

Encouraged, Yoongi continues, ‘flying me out here in the middle of a busy work week to celebrate my birthday in a Spanish prison?’

This time, you laugh, and for the first time since you were both arrested, Yoongi feels the tenseness in his shoulders start to ease.

‘Jagiya,’ he says, and your eyes meet his. ‘Can you let me organise my own birthday celebrations next time?’

Your eyes begin to sparkle with that bratty gleam he loves.

You tilt your chin, a show of defiance, and Yoongi feels a dangerous tug at his heart.

‘What would you have planned?’ you ask.

‘Making you come with my tongue buried inside you,’ Yoongi replies. 

He laughs as you still completely and let out a squeak.

‘Yoongi,’ you say, like you’re scandalised but he knows better. ‘That’s the kind of behaviour that got us thrown in here in the first place.’

‘You’re right,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘Come hold my hand instead.’

You look at his outstretched palm for a moment before you put your hand in his. 

You sit next to him, and, carefully, with tentativeness, like you’re on a first date instead of being husband and wife, lean your head on his shoulder.

Yoongi lets out a breath and presses his cheek to the top of your head.

‘I love you, Yoongi,’ you say, very quietly.

Yoongi squeezes your hand, and holds you until the world around you falls away.

He sleeps.

***

The sound of footsteps approaching wakes Yoongi. 

He looks up, careful not to jostle you against his chest. From the weight of you, you’re still sleeping.

The cell door unlocks, and the police officer gestures to him. 

‘Your lawyer called. You’re free to go.’

You’re stirring beside him, looking up sleepily.

‘We’re being released,’ Yoongi tells you.

You nod.

You slip your hand into his and follow him to the open door of the holding cell.

‘Stop,’ the guard says. ‘She can’t go. Her paperwork hasn’t come through. It’s only you that can go.’

Yoongi’s already trying to step back into the cell when it closes.

He slips his arm through the bars to hold your arm.

Instead of dismay, there’s determination in your face.

You’re looking at the clock. 

‘Yoongi, your meeting. It’s in twenty minutes. You’ve got time to conference yourself in.’

Yoongi doesn’t even blink.

‘Fuck that. There’s no way I’m leaving here without you.’

Not letting go of your arm, he takes the phone the guard hands him and is dialling when Kim Seokjin walks around the corner.

As always, he’s beautifully dressed, in a cream linen suit and crisp blue shirt unbuttoned to mid chest.

He speaks to the guard in Spanish, and in moments, the guard’s unlocking the cell to let you out.

Seokjin turns to Yoongi and you, that smirk on his face that’s always made Yoongi’s eye twitch.

‘I want to know more about the antics that got you thrown in here, but for now, there’s a car waiting outside that’s dialled into your shareholders meeting, Yoongi. Better get to it.’

‘Thanks, hyung,’ Yoongi says. 

‘Happy birthday,’ Seokjin says, clapping him on the back.

‘Thanks.’

Yoongi grabs your hand and walks out with you and Seokjin.

He doesn’t look back.

***

Yoongi’s lying on his back in the beautiful villa you’d hired for your stay.

The gauzy curtains flutter in the salty ocean breeze, and the ceiling fan above the bed he’s lying in circles lazily.

Yoongi’s been watching you dry your hair for the past five minutes, and the glimpse of your naked back from the gaping lapels of the bathrobe you’re almost wearing has him harder than he feels comfortable admitting.

Fuck. There are times when he can’t believe you’re real.

‘Hey,’ he says, voice coming out deeper, lower than his usual tone. ‘Come here.’

You get up and head to the bed.

Yoongi tugs the knot in your robe, slips his hands over your bare thighs, loving how you part them so willingly for him.

‘Can I do what I wanted to for my birthday?’ he asks.

You frown at him. ‘It’s technically not your birthday anymore,’ you point out.

Yoongi scoffs. ‘Come sit on my face, don’t pretend you don’t want to.’

He slides his hands over your bare ass as you position yourself over his face.

You lean forward, one arm braced against the headboard, as Yoongi pulls you down onto his mouth.

He groans as he thumbs your folds apart to find you’re slick with arousal already. 

He flattens his tongue to lick a broad stripe along your cunt. 

Fuck, you sound so good when he’s eating you out.

You lean forward, moaning softly as he licks firmly at your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking out, making you gasp.

You shift, and your tits bounce, nipples hard and puckered, so pretty Yoongi pinches one to hear you squeal.

He laps at your arousal as he plays with your nipples. He knows how you love having your breasts played with, he loves how his touch can make you grind against his face, needy and gasping.

He flicks his tongue at your clit steadily, and you’re closing your eyes now, hips moving in that needy, uncoordinated way that they do when you’re close.

One of your hands lands on his head, fingers carding through his hair.

You tug, and Yoongi runs his teeth over your clit.

You cry his name, the last word you form before you’re coming all over his face. 

Yoongi tugs you to him, holding you close as he turns you over so he can sink his cock in to the hilt.

You arch your back when he’s fully inside, letting out another pretty cry.

Yoongi’s cock throbs in your wet heat, the residual pulses of your orgasm milking him.

He groans as you wriggle beneath him.

‘Feels so good,’ you moan, tilting your hips to take more.

You so warm, so wet, so fucking tight that Yoongi’s spurting pre-come without even moving, ready to spill himself in you.

He grunts, and you squeeze him so tight that he’s on a hair trigger.

‘Yoongi,’ you plead. ‘I need —‘

‘I know, baby,’ he soothes, pressing a kiss to your warm face.

He moves, hitting deep, adjusting the angle of his hips to fuck into you the way he’s learned you like.

You’re so wet that every shift of his hips sounds obscene. 

He pulls out, and re-enters you, the thick head of him stretching you open.

He stays like that, just the tip of his cock inside you, until you’re writhing, trying to buck up against him, to take more of him.

Yoongi leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, and then you’re coming, thank god, because Yoongi can’t hold on anymore.

He buries himself inside you, all the way, and comes.

Yoongi’s never been a religious man, but this sure feels a hell of a lot like rapture to him.

He wraps his arms around you.

‘Happy birthday to me,’ he says, hoarse, exhausted.

‘Yeah, happy birthday,’ you say, muffled, into his neck.

‘I love you, jagiya.’

You pull a face. 

‘Yeah, I can feel your love all the way down my thigh,’ you reply, disgruntled.

Yoongi musters a smirk as he flexes his cock inside you.

‘You can’t pretend to hate me when I’m still inside you.’

You change tack with breathtaking audacity. ‘I don’t hate you, Yoongi.’

‘I know,’ he replies, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘Now go to sleep so we can do this again.’

‘Thanks for not ditching me in jail,’ you say, yawning.

Yoongi’s heart gives an unexpected throb.

‘I never would,’ he tells you.

He’s not sure if you hear him, or if you’re already asleep.