forever, endlessly [m]
pairing: yoongi/reader genre: soulmate au!!!!!!! fluff!!!!! fluffy smut!!! bad writing!!!!!! length: 3.9k notes: this is a thank u to my sweet followers for continuing to follow me etc. etc. and also a celebration of the comeback! i really love u all and even though i’m not good at longer stories i hope that this is okay i just wanted to post something :( i hope to post some more stuff soon :( also the smut is like the last 1.5k words so if u want just the sfw stuff you can stop before the last section!
Your mother never had a mark.
When you were young, you didn’t understand why. You had a mark, your strange twisting line on the inside of your left forearm. Your best friend Seulgi had a mark. Your uncle and aunt had marks, twin ones on their palms that met when they held hands.
“Where is your soul mark?” you asked one night, curled into her warmth as she read your favorite story to you, her fingers carding through your hair.
“I don’t need this, sweet pea,” she said, tapping her blank arm, “because I have you, and you’re all I need.” Her smile was soft, and kind, and you stared at her with big eyes.
“When will I meet my soulmate?” you whispered, tugging your quilt closer to you. You tried to imagine the meeting: the summer sun beaming down in the middle of a park as he approaches, flowers everywhere, the wind rustling his hair. Would he have black hair? Brown? What color would his eyes be? What would his voice sound like?
“I don’t know, honey, but I’m sure you’ll be very happy when you do.” She leaned down, then, to kiss your forehead, and walked to turn off the light.
“Good night, darling.”
“Good night,” you replied, voice small. With the dim light of the moon pouring in your window, you thought about your soulmate until you slipped into sleep.
The party is stifling.
You’ve never been one for crowded places, and this is undeniably crowded, full of people dancing and drinking and laughing. You press yourself against the wall, waiting for Seulgi to return with your drinks and staring at your phone every few seconds to look busy. When your Economics study partner Namjoon had suggested you come to the house party he was throwing, you had been reluctant, but between his wheedling and Seulgi’s insistence that “you need to go out more,” you had caved.
It wasn’t like you hated parties, it was more like you never knew what to do with yourself. Even now with a few drinks in your system, the faint buzz of alcohol wasn’t enough to drown out your nervousness. You knew Namjoon had friends, but you didn’t know he had these friends, these cool, attractive friends like Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook.
“At least try to look like you’re having fun,” a voice drawls by your ear and you start, turning to see Namjoon grinning at your surprise.
“Don’t scare me like that!” you glare, punching him lightly. “And it’s not my fault your apartment reeks. I can’t have fun when all I can smell is your dirty laundry!”
“Hey!” he exclaims indignantly, as Seulgi comes back and hands you a refilled red solo cup. You see her soul mark, three crescent moons in the crook of her elbow, and swallow hard, thinking of Joohyun’s matching mark. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of all the couples in the room. How many of them are soulmates? you think, and then shake the thought away.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Seulgi teases Namjoon, and at the same time Taehyung calls his name from across the room and he backs away, winking at you before he leaves.
“Duty calls!” You scoff at his words and take a sip of your drink, wincing a bit at the vodka. Seulgi starts talking about a new cafe down the street from your shared apartment and you nod along, staring out at the room before your eyes catch on a figure entering the room from the kitchen. His hair is grey, you note, and then he turns your way and you make eye contact and you swear for a moment the world stops turning.
You look away, cheeks flushing. When you look at him again, he’s still looking at you, and your mark aches, a sharp pang that you’ve never felt before.
Your mouth goes dry.
“Who is that?” you murmur to Seulgi, nodding at him as he makes his way towards Taehyung and Namjoon. “The guy with the grey hair?”
“Hm?” she says, and then she nods in recognition. “That’s Min Yoongi, I’m in Politics with him. Why? Are you interested?”
“I’ve just,” you pause and blink, unable to deny it. “I’ve seen him around.”
You can’t get his face out of your mind.
Was that him? Was that your soulmate? You touch your soul mark softly and stare at the ceiling, disbelieving. Was that how you met the love of your life? Not even met, just saw, in a crowded room at a house party. His eyes had been so sharp.
You’ve never felt that pang before, but no one had ever said anything about it, either. When you asked Seulgi about Joohyun she said she knew the moment she saw her, but what if you thought you knew and you were wrong?
What if he’s dating someone else? What if he already found his soulmate? What if he didn’t feel what you felt? Your head is spinning.
You had thought you had given up on soulmates. People put too much stock in them. You were happy without your soulmate. Your mother was happy without any soulmate, and you had friends who were dating people who weren’t their soulmates, or who had no marks. You were happy. Sometimes a little lonely, but that had nothing to do with your “missing half.” You were complete, soulmate or not. But –
It felt like something had clicked when you saw him, something deep inside of your heart. There was something more in that moment: it was like you knew him. Like you had met him before, in another world, or somewhere, but you were sure you hadn’t. You touch your mark again.
There’s no way someone so beautiful is my soulmate, you think, and bury your face in your pillow.
After you first see Min Yoongi, you start seeing him everywhere, and every time you see him, your heart does this tiny duh dum that you wish you could ignore. In the cafeteria, in the library, and in the hallways. usually with headphones on, sometimes with Taehyung or Jimin or Jungkook. It seems that he’s beautiful no matter what, sleepy eyed or wide awake, dressed in jeans or sweatpants, under fluorescent lighting or in bright sunlight.
Not that you’re paying attention.
But you only see him from far away, and sometimes you catch yourself wondering what his eyes look like up close, or his lips. Self indulgent thoughts that you keep to yourself, trying to come to terms with the fact that you’ll never know the answers to your private questions. Until, a week after the party, while you’re struggling to study for economics with Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimin sit down across from you.
The duh dum is much louder now. “Hey, guys,” Namjoon says offhandedly as he stares at elasticity curves, taking a moment before remembering to introduce you.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Yoongi says, and then he says your name, and your eyes meet, and again your mark pangs where it’s hidden under your sweater. Your lips part, almost instinctively, and then you shut your mouth immediately to avoid gaping like a fool. Is his heart beating this fast, too?
Distantly, you recognize Jimin echoing his words, and you look at him, too, but you only vaguely realize it.
“It’s nice to meet both of you,” you say, before Namjoon breaks your trance with a question.
His eyes are brown.
[07:16] Namjoon: we’re throwing a party tonight, u should come
You stare at your phone for a good minute before releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.
You want to go. You really want to go. He might not be there, you rationalize. Is it really worth dressing up and going all the way to Namjoon’s on the off chance that Yoongi is there? Just to see him, even when you probably won’t talk to him?
You know the answer immediately.
[07:22] You: i’ll be there :)
When you arrive you half hide behind Seulgi and Joohyun as they walk in ahead of you, suddenly self-conscious. Now that you’ve officially met will things be different? That’s stupid, you think, but your heart is caught in your throat. Too distracted by your own thoughts as you trail behind Seulgi and Joohyun to grab a drink, you don’t notice Jimin nudging Yoongi and pointing at you, and you don’t notice Namjoon walking over until he’s right in front of you.
“Hey!” he exclaims, suddenly launching into some anecdote about the Econ lecture you had missed on Wednesday. Before long he’s maneuvered you over to his friends, the group of you cracking jokes as your limbs stop feeling so tense.
Standing so close to Yoongi, you can almost feel his body heat, and you can definitely feel his stare on the side of your face. You glance over at him, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously when he looks away quickly, clearing his throat.
As you try adamantly to keep yourself from staring at his profile, a loud crash comes from the kitchen, and Namjoon and Jimin excuse themselves, hauling Taehyung along with them.
Leaving you. And Min Yoongi. Alone. Or, well, as alone as you can be in a room of crowded people.
“You’re, um, in a Politics class with Seulgi, right?” you ask, your stomach full of nervous butterflies again. He’s so close.
“Yeah, I’m interested in music though,” he replies, and you find yourself flushing when you make eye contact. He’s so close and so beautiful and there’s something in his eyes that maybe, just maybe, reflects what he can see in yours. “What about you?”
“Oh, well, I’m not sure exactly, I’m…” you trail off, your mark aching again as he doesn’t look away from you. As if in a dream, you see his hand move to touch his mark. A strange, twisting line in the inside of his left forearm. Your mark.
“I’m…” you stutter out, fingers automatically going to touch your own mark, half tucked under the sleeve of your shirt. “You… That’s my mark.” It takes you a moment to remember how to breathe. Min Yoongi has your soul mark.
He’s your soulmate.
What feels like an eternity later, you drag your eyes away from his forearm to look at his face. His hand reaches out and pulls your sleeve up, painfully gentle. Your soul mark, the twin to his, stares up at both of you.
You can’t look away from him. He’s your soulmate. “I thought – when I first saw you...” you stammer, “it was like something changed.” You want to say more, but you can’t. The noise of the party seems to have faded out of existence. It’s just you and him, staring at each other. Hearts pounding.
“Yeah,” he says, quietly. Like a secret. “Me too.”
It’s been a month since you found each other, and now the night finds you half drunk on the roof of his apartment building, your fingers laced together as you chatter aimlessly about everything and anything, his quiet responses sometimes barely audible over the sounds of the city and the quiet thunder in the distance.
When your gaze flicks to Yoongi’s face he’s looking at your lips, and familiar desire pools in the pit of your stomach. You want him, so much you can hardly stand it at times, but it hasn’t felt like the right time yet.
But now feels like the right time, or at least the ache between your legs thinks so as you study the way the light hits his face, the warmth in his eyes. His long, lovely fingers that you can rarely get out of your mind.
Before you can say anything, though, it starts raining, abruptly and heavily, and Yoongi pulls you up as you sputter in surprise and indignation. “Fuck!” You dart inside, dragging him along and he’s laughing, the sound sending shivers through you.
“That seemed like a moment out of a movie,” he smiles, and kisses you, your fingers sneaking their way into his wet hair as you sigh happily. He breaks it off too soon, your lips chasing him unconsciously before you remember your drenched clothes and follow him down to his apartment.
Inside, it’s blissfully quiet, and again you are reminded of your arousal when you think no one is here to hear us.
“Here,” Yoongi says, and hands you a t-shirt and boxers before looking away, his ears slightly pink. “I’ll change in the bathroom and be right back.”
“Okay,” you reply, a flush of your own creeping up your neck as he leaves and you pull your wet dress over your head. For a moment, you stand there, overwhelmed by the fact that you’re half-naked in Yoongi’s room, and then you shake your head, pulling his clothes on. Are you a teenager again?
There’s a knock on the door and you manage a “come in,” seconds before Yoongi walks in, dressed in sweatpants and a soft t-shirt and you are, once again, blown away by how beautiful he is.
“You… look good,” he says, eyes dark and voice strained. You can’t imagine you do, in a huge shirt with damp hair, but you smile shyly at him anyways, heart beating in your chest.
“So do you.” You want to touch him, so much you’re about to move towards him but he takes a step forward, then another, until he’s right in front of you and his hands come up to cup your face. His grip is so gentle, and you melt into him, leaning into his touch instinctively.
“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning down to kiss you, feather-light, and you can barely breathe through the butterflies swelling in your chest. You blink up at him, wide-eyed, and his hands move to rest on your hips, burning holes through the fabric of his shirt. His eyes catch on yours and you know what he wants, mostly because you want it too.
“Please,” you breathe, and then he’s kissing you again, more insistent this time. You whimper into him as his fingers sneak under the hem of your (his) shirt to trace circles on your bare skin, pressing closer to his warmth and moving one of your hands to tangle in his hair, the other clutching at his shirt. You exhale as Yoongi trails kisses down your neck, stopping to nip at your pulse point and then, lower, your collarbone.
A jolt of desire runs up and down your spine and then settles between your legs when you realize you’ll wake up with bruises. You’re almost surprised by how intensely you want him to leave his mark on you, all over you, and you whimper when he kisses you again. You want Yoongi all over you, you want to be his. You are his. You always were.
His lips against yours is nothing new, but the heat behind this kiss is practically unbearable, and when you press your thighs together you can feel the lace of your underwear clinging to your arousal. Backing you towards the bed, he reluctantly breaks the kiss to tug off your shirt and throw it to the side. “Lie down,” he says, voice honey sweet and deep with arousal, and you obey in a blind haze, lying down on the bed. When he takes his own shirt off, your breath catches in your throat at the sight – his pale skin stretched taut over softly defined muscles, his dark eyes burning with lust, his arousal clear against his sweatpants. He looks unreal.
“What did I do to deserve you?” You ask, breathless, and Yoongi laughs, his smile blinding as he moves towards you. “No, seriously, I must have been a saint in a past life to have you as my soulmate, I don’t understand –”
He cuts you off with another kiss, impatient fingers slipping his boxers off of you as you raise your hips to help him. Pulling away, he tucks loose hairs behind your ear, smile still lighting up his face. “I could ask the same thing.”
A flush creeps up your chest to your cheeks and you scrunch up your nose at him, heart pounding. “Cute,” Yoongi remarks, smile twisting into a smirk, and then he starts to trail kisses down the line of your neck. When he reaches the top of your bra he bites gently at the skin spilling out of the lace and then reaches behind you to unclasp it. Eyes wide, you watch as he tugs the straps down your arms and throws your bra to the side, shifting backwards and looking at you for a long second. “Jesus,” he swears under his breath, and your embarrassment only intensifies at the lust in his eyes when you make eye contact.
“What?” You whisper, uncomfortable for a moment before he presses his lips to your collarbone again and one of his hands come to cup your breast, the touch making you gasp.
“You’re beautiful,” his voice comes, low and sincere, and your heart stops. “And you’re mine.”
Every atom in your body is singing. “I’m yours,” you manage, though it trails off into a moan when he drags his tongue over your nipple. Your cunt is aching to be touched, your clit throbbing, and as Yoongi bites down your hips jerk up to meet his, walls clenching around nothing. “Yoongi, please,” your voice cracks when his hand moves down to rest on your thigh, thumb just brushing against the edge of your underwear. “Please,” you whimper again, arousal so intense you’re almost dizzy with it.
He looks up at you and you can’t resist the urge to bring your fingers to trace his jaw tenderly, watching it clench at your touch. “What do you want, sweetheart?” he asks, words rough, and you pout. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, I promise.”
“I–I need you to–” You get out, then bite your lip, embarrassed. “I need you to touch me.”
“Where?” Yoongi asks, and shifts to kiss you again. “Here?” His touch comes, barely there, on your soul mark, and a shiver runs through you. You shake your head. “Here?” Again, gently, under the swell of your breast. “No?” His smirk widens when you shake your head again, furrowing your eyebrows. “Here?” And then he’s cupping you through your underwear and your body quivers at his touch, his name falling from your lips without thinking.
“Yes, Yoongi, please,” You surge up to kiss him again, his teeth catching your lower lip and tugging and his fingers are pulling off your underwear and then they’re circling your clit and your hips keep stuttering up towards him, trying to get closer to his touch. When you run out of air he’s still smirking and you would scowl if you could focus on anything but the pleasure coursing through your body.
“You’re so wet already, baby girl. And all for me.” Yoongi slips one finger into your cunt and you cry out, so wound up you feel like you might explode any second. “You sound so fucking good, and you feel even better. And you’re mine, you’re my soulmate. You’re like a dream.”
Fuck, you think, and might say, but you aren’t sure because your mind is fuzzy, your eyes squeezed shut. The pleasure in your body builds, insistently, as he adds another finger and grinds his palm against your clit, and when all of a sudden you feel his tongue against your cunt your hips buck and you choke out a scream of his name. You’re so close, so close, so close, and then you’re there, falling over the edge as you come, white exploding behind your eyelids.
For a moment, everything goes still. Then you feel Yoongi’s fingers slip out of you and you half sigh, half moan, peeling your eyes open to look at him. “Kiss me,” you say, and he smiles, moving up your body to catch your lips with his. Body loose from your orgasm, you grab the hem of his sweatpants and boxers and tug them down, hand wrapping around his cock for only a minute before he bats it away.
“I won’t be able to fuck you if you make me come too soon,” he growls into the kiss and you grin, hands twisting into his hair.
“Then fuck me.” He curses your name, scrambling to grab a condom from his bedside table in what might be the least graceful movement you’ve ever seen from Yoongi. You watch, entranced, as his lovely fingers rip open the packet and then slide the condom over his lovely, lovely cock, and when he looks to find you staring his expression melts into something between tenderness and desire.
You imagine your face isn’t much different. You smile so hard your cheeks hurt, still full of arousal but full of something else, too, something that is probably love.
In that moment, your heart swelling, you know that you love this boy more than anything else in this moment, and you know that you will love him more than anything else for the rest of your life. Your soul mark pangs, but this time it’s less painful and more of a reminder of the tie that binds you to Min Yoongi, the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen in your life. “Did your mark just sting?” He asks, quietly, as he slides on top of you, your legs curling around his waist naturally.
“Yes,” you reply, breathless, and you smile shyly at him. A month, you’ve known him, but you swear it’s been an eternity. He leans down to kiss you, one hand helping him ease his cock into your still wet cunt, and your heart stutters at the intimacy of the moment as he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip.
You can feel him inside you, over you, all around you – you’re surrounded by his body, his scent, your mind full of Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi, nothing but him. With his skin pressed to yours it feels like you’re completing each other. As his hips snap against yours you lose yourself, again, to the bliss, until with a particularly hard thrust and his hand at your aching clit you tip over the edge again and he follows after you, slowing to a stop.
Later, after you’ve thrown away the condom and he’s washed your hair in the shower and slipped a new shirt over your head and a pair of boxers over his hips, you lie next to each other under the sheets, your body tucked into his.
“Yoongi,” you say, trying to convey what you’re feeling in the single word. It’s too early to say I love you, but the words are there, unspoken. Reaching out, he traces your soul mark and then brings your arm against his mouth to kiss it. For what must be the thousandth time, your heart stops at the warmth in his eyes.
He hums your name and you press your lips against his collarbone, trying to blink away the overwhelmed tears that are threatening to spill. Around you, his hand settles on the curve of your hip and he kisses the top of your head; chaste, closed-mouthed, feather-light.
You understand, now, the wonder you used to catch in Seulgi’s eyes when she looked at Joohyun. There is something unbearable about the love that floods your body, the beat of his heart deafening. “My soulmate,” he whispers, and you feel the words more than hear them.
“My soulmate,” you say back, and the two of you stay there, content in the silence, until you fall asleep.
