𝐌𝐀I

When you snuck into the men’s locker room the very last thing you expected was to run into a dripping, half naked Min Yoongi grinning at you like the cat who caught the canary. 

You had thought that it was empty because most of the community center’s patrons had headed out once the activities from their summer shindig had concluded. Really, it was your bladder’s fault because it had decided that no, you couldn’t survive the fifteen minute walk back to your apartment and demanded that you take care of it immediately. 

But then, the women’s locker room had been closed for cleaning to your despair and frustration. The individual family bathroom had also been occupied like some damn conspiracy created to deny you the ability to relieve your too full bladder. A condition caused by your insistence on being a ‘hydrated bitch’.

You were seriously reconsidering whether or not the increased need to pee was worth it when it occurred to you to check the men’s. Upon first peek in, it was devoid of people. You’d even called a probably too quiet, “Hello?” only to be met with relative silence.

You figured that meant it was empty and you were safe to slip in and do your business and ideally slip out without anyone knowing. 

Upon exiting the stall and washing your hands, you stepped out of the bathroom area of the locker room and quite literally ran into someone.

Shit. 

The first thing you noticed was that they were wet. The second thing you noticed was that they were naked. Half-naked, technically, because there was a towel wrapped around their waist but still more naked than not. And the third thing you noticed was the lazy smirk on their face. 

Oh. 

You knew that smirk. 

“Yoongi, this isn’t what it looks like,” You say hurriedly, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Both of your hands are raised in front of you, palms out, in the universal gesture of I’m innocent, I swear.

Yoongi looks far too amused, too cocky, when he raises a brow at you in a look that indicates he doesn’t believe you. 

Ugh. He’s exasperating. You thought he’d left at least an hour ago. 

“Uh huh,” he drawls, arms folding over his wet, naked chest. You hate how the action draws your attention to it because you can’t stop the way your gaze drifts over him greedily. It’s certainly not helping that there’s a specific droplet of water that’s making its way down the center straight towards his belly button and the "v" of his hips that you want to lick---

“You’d be a lot more believable if you stopped staring at me like you want to devour me.” 

Yoongi’s deep voice had your head snapping up, the cloudiness from lust being blinked out of your eyes. “I wasn’t--” You get distracted by the way water drips from his hairline down his cheek and off his jaw. 

He looks sinfully good with his slicked back orange hair and that fucking smirk that won’t leave his stupid smug face. 

You’re staring again and you can feel your cheeks heating. At this point you feel like you’re permanently blushing. His mouth opens for what surely is another taunt and you exasperatedly try to push past him to escape. Unfortunately, the bag you’ve been carrying manages to snag on something and you lose your grip, sending it crashing into the ground. 

Yoongi loses his towel. 

Your gaze drops to down, for your bag, but your eyes lock onto his dick instead. Fuck.

As far as dicks go, it’s a pretty nice dick. 

It’s half hard, curling towards his stomach. You don’t think it’s particularly long, nothing impressively above average but the girth? It makes you swallow a little and take a step back. Yoongi doesn’t let you get very far away. 

His fingers wrap around the wrist of the hand you’re lifting to cover your mouth, tugging you towards him when he steps closer. The grip he has on you is loose, something you could easily pull free from, but you don’t. Instead, you stumble forward and catch yourself with a palm on Yoongi’s…wet…surprisingly broad chest. 

“It’s okay, you can look if you want,” he tells you, leaning in so you feel the curve of his lips against your cheek and his voice is that low, gravely register that makes you shiver. “You can touch too,” he offers, guiding your hand lower. 

It feels like your brain is short circuiting, overwhelmed by the residual heat from the locker room’s showers, the warmth spreading through your body, and the heat in the man standing across from you’s gaze. Part of you wants to deny your interest in drinking in his body, to avoid touching him despite the fact that you’ve spend several minutes basically gaping at him as he stood confidently across from you. 

The other much stronger part, wants to give in and touch. Yoongi’s inviting you to, he looks sinfully good, and…maybe you want to do something that you think might wipe that smirk off his face. 

So, you pull your hand away and find yourself grinning when Yoongi’s body tenses up because he’s waiting for you to act. The hand pressed against his chest slides a little higher, fingers digging into the flesh above his collarbone, and you step a tiny bit closer. Your other one slips between your bodies and wraps around his cock. 

Or, well, that’s what you were trying to do. 

You’d thought his girth was impressive upon sight, but now that you’ve got your palm wrapped around it you’re faced with the reality of just how thick he is. He’s heavy in your hand with your fingers unable to wrap around the width of his shaft. 

“Fuck,” you hiss. Your graze drags upward, eyes wide when you meet Yoongi’s half-lidded gaze. The smirk’s dropped slightly and you almost think he’s looking at you with something like fondness when the cockiness overtakes him again. 

“We should,” he says, far too conversationally for the tension swirling in the air. 

You take a moment to weigh the options in your head, absentmindedly stroking his cock while you chew on your lip. Yoongi hisses, thick fingers curling around your wrist again to stop you. 

“You can’t play with my dick while you’re deciding if we’re going to fuck,” he groans and when you smirk at him, his grip tightens. 

“It’s helping me make a decision,” you cheekily reply and the way Yoongi’s gaze darkens sends a flush of arousal through you. When he was smirking at you earlier you were embarrassed but now, with his dick in your grasp and him looking at you like that you feel powerful, aroused, and frankly? 

Bratty. 

So, while your hand can’t freely move you can tighten your grip around him, fingers stretching like you might be able to get your thumb and middle finger to meet if you try hard enough. His brow arches in response, mouth twisting into a frown as he presses closer, reaching for your hip with his other hand. 

“What are you doing pretty girl?” Somehow, his voice has gotten deeper, huskier and you bite your cheek to hold back the moan it incites from you. 

“Mm, nothing.” 

“Doesn’t feel like nothing,” he says and you can hear the warning in his tone. It doesn’t stop you. “It feels like,” he pauses, pulling your hand away completely and sliding his fingers between yours when he moves forward, forcing you to walk backwards until you hit one of the walls, “you’re taunting me.” 

Like this, Yoongi seems to tower over you and that makes your heart race. You try to maintain eye contact with him, but your gaze keeps dropping to his mouth. His lips look soft, plush, and oh-so kissable. You want him to kiss you, but you don’t want to ask. 

“Good girls get kissed,” Yoongi’s words interrupt your thoughts. Shit, you must’ve said them outloud. “Girls who like to taunt and tease don’t.” He leans in close enough that his mouth hovers above yours and his breath is warm on your face. “Now are you going to be a good girl?”

You pout, stretching to try and close the distance between you but Yoongi sees right through you and pulls far enough back that you can’t. When you try to follow you find that he’s captured your other hand and brought them both over your head. 

“Fine,” you huff, trying to pretend like you don’t find all of this incredibly attractive. You’ve always found the man attractive, you just didn’t think that he thought the same. Or that you’d end up here after wanting him to fuck you while also not wanting to admit it. 

Yoongi’s head tilts, damp strands falling across his forehead, and looks at you expectantly. You blink back up at him. 

“I didn’t realize you were such a brat,” he sighs in a way that tells you he’s more amused than displeased. “Guess you’ll have to earn your kiss.” 

You’re furrowing your brow before his grip on you shifts to your shoulders and applies enough pressure to coax you downward. You resist just enough to make his gaze narrow before easily, and willingly, sinking to the ground. It’s not exactly pleasant on your knees but it puts you directly in front of Yoongi’s now very hard dick. 

Like this, it seems even bigger than it felt and that makes your mouth water. 

“Why don’t we put that bratty mouth of your to good use?” He says, hand slipping up to caress your cheek before his fingers tangle in your hair. 

You think about being bratty, to say something to make him pull your hair, to punish you, but you also think about how you want him to kiss you. How you want to be called good girl and be praised. But mostly you’re thinking about how you want to see how much of him you can fit into your mouth, if you can even fit more than the head inside. 

So, when Yoongi takes his cock in his hand and smears the leaking head across your lips and says, “Open up pretty,” your mouth falls open. Your tongue lolls out and you think you ought to be embarrassed but you aren’t.

How could you be when he’s looking at you like that?

He taps the head against your outstretched tongue, nails scraping along your scalp when he tilts your head back just enough that you have to look at him. “Wider baby, or it’s not going to fit.” 

You’re eager to do as he asks, relaxing your jaw until your mouth is as open as it can get. Even then, when his hips push forward and you can actually feel the weight of his dick on your tongue you know it’s going to be a struggle. Your jaw is going to ache for days, probably, and you’re not sure you’ve ever wanted anything more. 

The taste of precome is salty on your tongue when you manage to swallow the spit that’s gathered in anticipation. Your lips close around the head, suckling as you look up at him with wide, blinking eyes. Yoongi’s own gaze is heated, eyes half closed and a hint of smugness clinging to the curve of his mouth. 

The bratty side of you wants to make his knees buckle, but the side of you that wants your promised kiss insists that you be good and ultimately wins. 

Yoongi is surprisingly gentle when he starts to trust shallowly into your mouth, letting you get used to the thickness of the shaft sliding across your tongue. Still, it doesn’t take long before both of you grow impatient; your hands wrapping around his dick and his grip tightening in your hair when his pace increases. 

He thrusts sharply enough to hit the back of your throat and you gag, eyes watering when you try not to cough or jerk away. Concern flickers across his face for half a second before you resume stroking with your hands, pulling your head back enough to feel like you can breathe but not so far that you might pull off. 

The eagerness in which you return to the task of sucking him off reassures Yoongi that you’re fine and the man doesn’t waste time when it comes to helping you with your task. The grip in your hair pushes your head further down, making you gag again, and his speed increases leading you to believe that he’s close even if he’s been relatively quiet outside of grunts and moans here and there. 

Normally you’d prefer your men more vocal, but you can tell that Yoongi’s holding back if the way his face twists in pleasure is any indication. There’s a warm coil in your belly at the thought of what you might do that would make him break, that’d get him singing for you and you hope that this whole thing doesn’t just end once he comes. 

Yoongi might seem like he enjoys being mean to you, but he doesn’t strike you as someone who would be cruel like that. 

When his hand reaches down to wrap around his cock, you let yours fall to your thighs and let him do whatever he wants because you’re a little more eager than you’d like to admit for him to come. You’re enjoying yourself, immensely, but both your jaw and knees are starting to ache. 

He pulls back until just the head is still in your mouth and says, “Be a good girl and open wide.” 

Despite your reservations that you can't you do your best to relax your jaw until it really can’t drop down any further again. Fortunately he seems pleased, letting out a low moan when he comes. 

Yoongi pulls back, dark eyes taking in the sight of you with a smirk. 

You hold your mouth open, tongue stretched out as far as it can go so that you can show off all the come that’s collected. The act seems to please Yoongi who lets out a hum that you think could almost be mistaken for a cat’s purr. He taps his cockhead against your tongue a few times, like he’s shaking off any stray drops, before tipping his chin up in a gesture that makes you think he wants you to swallow.

So you do, taking pleasure in the way he seems to watch the way your throat bobs as you swallow. You also enjoy the way he watches you lick your lips messily, nosily smacking them together to ensure there’s not an ounce of his seed left. 

Once again, you let your tongue loll out of your mouth to show him that you’re the good girl he’s wanted you to be and there’s nothing left. It shouldn’t thrill you so much, how pleased he looked or how clouded with lust his expression still is. Nor should you be so eager to take his hand when holds it out to you.

If you’re enamored with the way your hand fits in his, well, that’s your secret to keep. 

When Yoongi pulls you to your feet, your legs wobble, pinpricks of sleeping limbs from being held in one position for too long, and you stumble into his still very naked chest. It’s no longer wet though, to your disappointment, as the thought of getting to lick droplets off his sternum flickers to mind again. 

His finger hooking beneath your chin bring you back to the real world and you don’t resist when he tips it up so that you’re looking at him. 

“What are you thinking pretty girl?” He asks, that low gravelly register of his making you shiver as much as it makes your pussy throb. 

You don’t want to admit your daydream however, because you’re not sure you could handle what he might do with the information so instead you pout, blinking pretty at him. “I was wondering where my kiss was,” you say, low and sultry, “I was a good girl wasn’t I?” 

He hums, shifting so his palm rests against your skin with his fingers splayed across your cheek and his thumb pressing down on your slick and swollen lip. Your tongue licks out to lick at the tip before you give him your best pouty look. 

“The best,” he says finally, leaning in and capturing your mouth with his in the promised kiss. 

Yoongi starts slow, leisurely like he has all the time in the world to kiss you against the wall of the men’s locker room and not like he’s butt naked with his towel forgotten on the floor. His teeth nip at your lower lip, making you gasp and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss and licking into your mouth. 

When he draws away, he’s pulling your lip with him and you blink up, blearily, with a heaving chest. He looks so smug that you want to hit him, but you’re a little too woozy from everything he’s done to you and he’s not even touched in the ways you know you’re aching for. 

“I’m going to get dressed, be a good girl and wait here for me okay?” 

You’re nodding before you realize it, thighs pressing together like it’ll help the throbbing between them. “Yoon--”

“I have another reward for you, for being so good for me,” he interrupts, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear when he backs away. “You’ll get it when we get to my place, then…” Yoongi pauses, suddenly looking a little less sure of himself, “dinner after?”

You can’t help the huff of laughter when you push off the wall and shove him. “Yeah,” you reply, amused by his sudden uncertainty,  “We can do dinner. Now hurry up.” 

His smugness returns, the man straightening as he turns away and you resist the urge to slap his ass as you watch him go. 

Like now, as you laid sprawled on the bed, completely naked and touching yourself for the camera the way Yoongi had so sweetly asked you to, you could look over and see the comments. 

She looks so bored 

I could give you such a better time, Yoongi :)

This bitch just needs a cock stuffed in her and maybe she’ll actually smile 

Your eyes shot up to catch Yoongi’s and you sent him a glare. To your chagrin, his eyes sparkled back at you despite the harsh feedback in the chat. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Something bothering you?” That cheshire gummy grin both irked your soul and had your pussy fluttering. 

“Your subscribers are dicks.” 

Not to your surprise, the chat blew up at your comment. You didn’t bother looking at what they said, your eyes staying on Yoongi. He tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head slowly. 

“Ahh, baby, what a mean thing to say. Not on your best behavior today, are you?” He turned to the camera with a small sigh that you knew was fake as hell. “What do you think I should do with her, guys?” 

You let your arm go slack and fall onto the bed beside you, no longer bringing your fingers to circle your clit. Your heartbeat spiked slightly as you watched Yoongi lift his hoodie over his head and ruffle his soft hair to the side. He’s shirtless underneath and you don’t need to see the chat to know that everyone is going crazy for finally seeing your boyfriend’s skin. His silver Cuban link chain thudded against his chest and your eyes skipped down the length of his torso to find the light brown hairs of his happy trail disappear into his joggers. 

“Hmmm… looks like everyone’s pretty annoyed with you, baby.” 

Yoongi rattled off the recommendations in the chat for your punishment. Slapping, choking, orgasm denial, anal - which was fucked up since you hated anal. Kitty-kat420 insisted that he not fuck you at all; no surprise there. You shivered, unsure if your response was out of anticipation or fear. You both knew how much Yoongi loved dishing out punishments for your bratty behavior. 

But when you saw Yoongi reach out of sight of the camera to pull open the drawer of his nightstand, you immediately felt your stomach drop. You shot up to a sitting position with one arm shielding your breasts from the camera. All this camming shit was much harder to get used to than you’d initially thought. 

“Yoongi,” you hissed with widened eyes when your boyfriend moved to rest on his knees on the bed beside you. In his hands were a pair of handcuffs and your bright purple vibrator.

Fuck. 

“Yes?” His eyes sparkled back at you and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he jingled the handcuffs in your face. “How about you be a good girl for me and lay down?” 

With a glare you scooted up to lie in the middle of the bed and obediently put your arms above your head without him needing to ask. Because you were his good girl, of course. 

After securing your wrists to the headboard frame, Yoongi adjusted the camera to capture a better image of your body sprawled out. The emphasis on having a clear shot of the lower half of your body had you wiggling in the metal restraints. You had an idea of what was about to come, and you were oh so close to begging him to spare you. He’d never punished you like this on camera. The idea of so many people watching… 

Your panicked train of thought was derailed by Yoongi forcing your legs apart. You felt his chain drag coldly across the inside of your thigh as he lowered himself onto the bed, legs further forced apart by his broad shoulders. A small whimper escaped your mouth before you could clamp your lips shut. 

“Nuh-uh, I’m gonna need you to keep that pretty mouth open for me tonight, baby,” Yoongi cooed, grabbing for the vibrator again. He placed it on your stomach while he talked to you, brown eyes flickering dark with mischievous lust. “You’re gonna stop me when you’re about to cum, okay?” 

“Yoongi, please-” 

“What did I say?” His voice cut through your plea with a sharpness that would have made you challenge him if you weren’t at his mercy, chaining to a bed. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay what?” 

“I’ll tell you when I’m about to cum.” 

Yoongi hummed and the feeling of his hot breath on your skin had your head reeling. “You’re not allowed to cum until I say so.” 

There was no time to respond to his demands before you felt Yoongi tilt back slightly to spit directly onto your pussy. You let out a small gasp that morphed into a moan when Yoongi’s tongue swiped through your lips, collecting his spit on his tongue and pushing it directly to your clit. Sucking and licking at your clit was already enough to dissolve your dignity until you were a mess beneath him, all bucked hips and guttural moans. The plunge of two long, ring-clad fingers inside of you was the icing on the cake. It didn’t matter how many times Yoongi pressed into your front wall or circled his tongue around your clit until it was swollen and throbbing - you were always left panting and crying his name. He ate pussy like it was all he was put on this earth to do. 

You yanked at the handcuffs knowing it wouldn’t do you any good, but it was impossible for you to sit still while he went to town on you. Even though you knew your wrists would be raw and possibly cut in a few places by the time he was done with you. 

“Yoongi, fuck,” you moaned, jerking against the cuffs again. “I’m-I’m gonna cum.” 

“Already?” Yoongi snickered. 

God, you wish you could have just not said anything at all. The moment his mouth and fingers disappeared, you genuinely felt like crying. The heat of your orgasm burning in your stomach quickly faded, leaving you with only an uncomfortable throbbing between your legs. 

“Shut up,” you choked out, attempting to pull your legs free from his hold, and failing. 

The vibrator had fallen off your stomach with all your wiggling. Yoongi reached for it again, choosing the lowest vibration to start off with. You felt your legs turn to jelly as you watched him press the tip against your clit. 

“Fuck,” You wrapped your fingers around the chain of the handcuffs and held on as tightly as you could, knowing it would leave marks into your skin. 

“Yeah? That feel good, baby?” Yoongi’s dark eyes flicked up to see your reaction, that gummy smile returning to haunt you. He brought his head back down between your legs, angling himself. Opening his mouth, he licked against your entrance with his tongue flat against your skin. 

You were growing hotter much faster than the first time. Unintelligible whines slipped past your lips dry from panting, but Yoongi didn’t bother to pay attention to you unless he clearly heard those sweet words from you. 

He switched to the next vibration setting and you felt sweat bead along your hairline. With a twisting stomach and shaking legs, you bucked into Yoongi’s face with a bit more force. 

“Gonna cum.” You let out a heavy exhale when Yoongi lifted the vibrator off of your clit. You felt raw and overstimulated now, and your legs continued to shake uncontrollably despite the vibrator being gone. “Yoongi, please, I promise I’ll take this more seriously, please baby just let me cum.” 

Yoongi tutted his tongue again before swiping it over his wet lips. “Not how this works,” he said off-handedly, his attention pivoting to read the chat comments while your legs continued to buzz against his shoulders. “It is sexy when she begs,” he mused in agreement with one subscriber. 

The next time, you were screaming almost immediately when Yoongi set the vibrator to the third setting. He pressed it against your clit so hard you felt like you were going to explode. He had you begging in record time, but still he backed off once you were right on the edge. The kiss he pressed against your clit sent a jolt through your entire body. 

You let your head fall back against your pillow and attempted to calm your breathing. You barely had the energy to look up when you heard your boyfriend chuckle. 

“Tired already?” 

All you could do was grunt. 

“Should I let her cum now?” 

You had no idea what the consensus was; there was no energy to look up for that, either. 

And then there was the vibrator again, slick with your arousal and Yoongi’s spit, turned up to the highest setting and pressed hard against your clit. You let out a small sob, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you willed Yoongi to end the torture. He only flashed you his sweet smile in response and dipped his head down to spit again into your pussy lips to help the vibrator circle your clit more easily. 

“Yoongi, I can’t take it anymore,” you choked out. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dragging your eye makeup along for the ride. Your chest heaved in and out and your legs continued to shake against Yoongi’s shoulders. 

Rather than pull away, he pressed the vibrator against your clit even harder. Another choked sob. Another buck of your hips. And then you felt three fingers slip inside of you. With the vibrator still against your clit, Yoongi began quickly pumping his fingers into you, hitting your front wall hard. 

“Gonna,” you sobbed and tried to blink away the tears lining your eyelashes. “Cum. Yoongi, I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you want, please.” 

“Whatever I want?” He pressed a kiss against the inside of your thigh, glistening with spit and arousal. 

“Yes, fuck, please please yes. Yoongi please.” 

“You’re so gorgeous crying for me.” Yoongi grinned, putting more force into the thrust of his fingers. “Now cum.” 

You felt your entire body snap. The force of your orgasm had so much pressure your walls pushed Yoongi’s fingers out of you. But even as you cried out his name and felt your body shudder under the weight of your climax, there was still more pressure. And more and more and more, until your legs, and the bed, and Yoongi’s face and chest were completely soaked with your cum. 

“Shit,” he groaned, turning off the vibrator and tossing it to the side. “Shit, babe. You fucking squirted.” 

You could hear the ping of payments popping up on the site in response, but all you wanted to do was hide your face. You had squirted in front of who knew how many strangers on the internet. 

“That was so hot. Fuck.” 

When Yoongi reached up to remove your handcuffs, you saw his erection impossibly hard and tight against his pants, to the point that there was a wet spot right where you knew the head of his cock laid against his thigh. 

He helped you sit up and took your hands in his own, rubbing gently at the raw skin around your wrists. “Are you going to behave now?” 

You let out a small whimper and nodded, makeup still streaking your cheeks. 

“Good, ‘cause I’m about to fucking destroy you, baby.”

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“No.”

“I’m sure if you moaned in a song I’d call it hot too.”

“Really?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the banter taking place in front of him, taking a rather harsh drag before disrupting it.

“Y/N just likes songs about fucking,” he nods over to you, “admit it.”

You scoff at his accusation, hand landing on your chest in mock offense.

“A little bold are we?”

Namjoon only smirks, dimples showcased prominently on his relaxed features despite the heavy fog that’s clouding up the small studio.

“I gotta piss,” Yoongi mumbles as he attempts to stand up, large hands playfully shoving you to the side to allow him room to escape. Namjoon reaches over to hand you the blunt, simultaneously blocking Yoongi from passing through— merely just to piss him off. It works as he rolls his eyes, giving the younger man a deathly glare.

“Hurry up, the songs almost over,” you call out as Yoongi finally makes it to the door.

“Then replay it?” Yoongi suggests, deadpanned as usual, just before his body disappears through the small crack of the door, hurriedly shutting it behind him to prevent any smoke from getting out.

Kicking your feet up on the now empty space beside you, you position yourself to lay flat on your back before turning your head to face Namjoon, a mischievous grin on your face.

“Go on…” you tell him, eyes gesturing to the phone on his lap that’s connected to the speaker.

Namjoon understands the underlying intent in your grin as well as instructions all too well as the song you’re listening to, Valerie by The Weekend, starts off with moaning.

“Fucking pervert.” He chuckles to himself with a shake of his head, nonetheless pressing the replay button.

The blunt is almost at the end of its life, so you take one soft drag before reaching your hand out to pass it over to Namjoon, letting him do the honors.

You face the ceiling, eyes blissfully shutting and soaking in the music, and it surprises Namjoon when you sing along. Well— maybe not sing. It surprises him when you moan along.

“Mm… so good.” You trail off, referring to the song of course.

You know slightly what you’re doing, but you consider it banter. A joke. So your eyes go wide when you turn your head and see Namjoon’s large hands covering his crotch area as if he’s trying to hide it from you, the now-dead blunt tucked between his index and middle fingers.

“No fucking way...” you mutter with evident shock to your tone, slight humor but overall seriousness.

“Joonie… are you—“

“You can’t do shit like that, Y/N.” He exhales, an airy chuckle of disbelief following. “Look what you did. It’s fuckin’ getting hard now.”

Trailing your eyes back to his hands, you struggle to get a glimpse of what he’s referring to. You decide to entertain the situation, too high to tell yourself not to.

“Well are you gonna move your hands?” you ask nonchalantly, words being something of a whisper.

He only scoffs, interpreting your words as more banter. “Are you saying you want to see my print?”

The mood is lighthearted and humorous, playful almost, but you’re dead serious when you say “yeah.”

Namjoon tenses up, gulping as he examines your sprawled-out body on the sofa, replaying your soft-spoken tone in his head.

Eyes on yours, yours on his hands, he uncovers his bulge and your bottom lip finds sanctuary in between your teeth.

The song is doing no justice to the sudden tension that overpowers the fading smoke surrounding the room, suffocating you both in an immense cloud of temptation. It’s you who falls victim to the thick air as you let your hand travel to your jacket zipper, your focus set on him as you tug it down.

Namjoon’s eyes are heavy lidded, cheeks hallowed out as he bites on the insides of them, quickly reaching behind to blindly flick the roach of a blunt onto the rolling tray atop his desk before bringing his free hand back to settle on his bugle- this time for a different reason.

He watches your fingers intently as you knock the heavy material off of your shoulders, revealing your white tight-fitting camisole, no bra.

“My turn.”

Bringing your hands to your breasts, you trace over your erect nipples, flicking them slowly until you're whimpering in front of Namjoon’s gaze, noticing how his hand begins to rub against him harder.

“Y/N…” he breathes, whiney almost, and you smirk in response.

“Hm?”

He doesn’t answer, eyes fixated on your breasts until he adverts them to your leg that’s rising up.

You tease your fingertips against the skin of your inner thigh, your attention fully on Namjoon’s reaction. You see how useless his palming is for him as he’s blatantly aching for something more. Something other than his own hand rubbing against his clothed cock.

That’s when your leg comes down, your body sits up, and just like that you’re kneeling on the ground and crawling over to him on his desk chair.

Namjoon gasps with almost no volume at your sudden action and proximity, eyes widening the slightest as he questions your intent.

“Y-yoongi will be back any second,” he attempts to alert you, but you only continue running a hand up his thigh.

He hesitantly removes his hand from his bulge, allowing yours to replace it. It’s crazy how drastic the change is, and he flinches at the pleasure that comes from your touch.

You do exactly what he was doing, rubbing your palm against his stern bulge through his pants, eyes slowly flicking up to his only to see them shut and head lolled back.

“I’m barely even touching you baby.”

Your words choke him up and trigger something within him, his hips jolting upwards to rub himself harder against your palm. A tiny grunt escapes from between his clenched teeth.

You can see the desperation in him taking charge, and you’re so ready to submit to it, but the faint beeping sound of the studio door’s keypad being clicked fills the once-intoxicating air. You don’t stop, though. And it turns Namjoon on more than you know.

In comes a frantic Yoongi, hurriedly closing the door behind him as he speaks with a lost breath.

“Staff looked suspicious as fuck at the smell but I saved your asses, you’re welco—“

You look up at Namjoon, and he looks over to Yoongi to which Yoongi looks down at you. He blinks a few times to ensure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, and when he confirms the sight of your hand on Namjoons cock- his heartbeat stills.

“Thank you,” you respond to his cut-off statement, acting as if the scene playing out in front of him isn’t what it is.

You can feel Namjoons cock twitch beneath your stilled hand, so you continue to palm him softly just as he begins to speak.

“H-hyung, I— fuck Y/N.”

Yoongi hasn’t moved an inch. His mouth is parted and he’s frozen in spot, presumably trying to comprehend everything.

“I uh…” his voice comes out dry and raspy, so he clears his throat before trying again. “I can come back if you two want, I didn’t know—”

“Why would you leave?” you ask innocently, turning to face Yoongi for the first time in this encounter. He’s met with your dark, lustful eyes (which contradicts the red tinge significantly might I add) and he absentmindedly licks over his bottom lip. “We’re just playing around.”

At your words, Yoongi’s brows furrow in confusion- almost falling for your words despite how odd of a “game” this would be, only to be mistakened as you suddenly take your shirt off, no bra.

“Come play with us?”

That’s when his eyes felt like they’d burst out of their sockets, but despite the feeling, his expression was blank. This was enough to make you wonder what the hell he was thinking because you couldn’t read his face.

Although all questions go answered when your gaze travels down his body and to his growing erection.

You sharply inhale.

Your face lights up in a smirk despite the nerves that are engulfing you, and you thank the cannabis for giving you the courage to say your next words.

“Fuck me?” you ask both men, head going back and forth between them for your eyes to innocently meet each of theirs.

Namjoon is the first to react, cock twitching as he delicately lifts your hand off of him, settling it on his thigh as he maneuvers his belt open. You hear faint, hesitant footsteps approaching, and every hair on your skin rises when you feel the coldness of Yoongi’s fingers against your neck. Guiding your hair to one side as Namjoon guides his cock out of his boxers, you find yourself arching your back against Yoongi’s legs behind you.

Your eyes navigate up to Namjoon’s, and you keep them there even when Yoongi grabs your jaw and tilts it back until the top of your head is digging against his lower stomach. You flick your eyes up to his instead when he pokes his thumb against your bottom lip, slowly easing it into your mouth.

“Open,” Yoongi whispers, tone almost overcoming Namjoon’s occasional whimpers of underlying plead.

You suction around him until you feel the webbing of his thumb against your lip, the tip of his thumb on a mission towards the back of your tongue. It’s not long until he makes it there, and just as you gag slightly- your hand is lifted from Namjoon’s thigh and guided directly to his erection.

Namjoon keeps his hand over yours as he directs your fingers to wrap around him, controlling the first couple of strokes before letting go and letting you touch him on your own. Yoongi’s thumb was now rubbing your own spit against your bottom lip, and both men become audible when you tilt your head down to choke yourself on Yoongi’s thumb again.

“Holy fuck… ’m too fuckin high for this,” Yoongi mumbles after a whimper he tried his best not to let out.

“Told you she was a slut…” Namjoon chuckles.

You cough against Yoongi’s finger, and he’s quick to drag it out to allow you to catch your breath.

The mere fact that they’ve discussed this before was something you couldn’t quite believe, and as derogatory as your friend's words were, you can’t help the way it made you feel. You can’t help the sensation it sent between your thighs either.

“You didn’t believe him?” You suddenly ask Yoongi, tilting your head back up to face him in the awkward upside down angle.

“What?”

“When he apparently said I was a slut- you didn’t believe him?”

Yoongi thinks over your question, then he glances at Namjoon, nodding at him for a reason you couldn’t understand since you weren’t able to see the smirk and determined nod Namjoon gave to him.

“Not in the slightest,” he tests, thumb tracing your lips again.

You scoff, and without any warning, you bring your head back down and direct his hand away as you let your lips latch onto Namjoon’s tip, eyes shut as you wait for him to remove his hand from his shaft- and when he does you sink down.

“Ah—“

You smile at the way Namjoon flinches, coming up only for the second it takes to spit onto his swollen tip before sinking right back down.

As you bring a hand to stroke the base that you couldn’t quite take, Yoongi tangles his hand in your hair, holding on tight enough to direct and control your speed.

“Just like that baby, keep sucking his dick like a fucking slut.”

Namjoon seems to react at the general sight in front of him, his abdomen clenching when he sees the tears brimming at your ducts all because Yoongi is showing no mercy on you.

You let your tongue trace over and discover every vain and ridge on his cock, not having much time to salvage the feeling when Yoongi is directing you to go so fast. You hum when you reach your gag limit, free hand blindly reaching behind you to tap Yoongi’s leg in signal.

“Fuck…” you attempt to breathe, the sudden gust of air is cool against your slobbered chin.

Yoongi soothes over your now-tangled hair with the flat of his hands, and Namjoon lazily looks down- chest still struggling to catch a subtle pace- hooking his index finger underneath your chin as he uses his thumb to wipe some of the spit.

“That was so fucking hot…” Yoongi purrs.

“Mm… so fucking slutty too,” Namjoon adds.

You giggle softly at their words of appraisal, once again clenching around nothing as you have been for the past however many minutes.

Placing your hands on Namjoon’s thighs, you push yourself up and turn around. Face to face with almost no gap in between you, you place a hand on Yoongi’s chest.

“You,” you say before pointing behind him, “on the couch.”

He looks down at the hand placed on his chest, chuckling smugly before turning around to head for the couch, having muttered a sly and entertained “yes ma’am.”

“And you,” you turn back to Namjoon, his cock still swollen against his lower stomach as he hazily looks up at you, ready to get on his knees if that’s what you want. And it is.

“On your knees in front of the couch, go.”

Same as Yoongi, he chuckles at your authoritative aura, nonetheless complying as you settle over to join Yoongi on said sofa. The older man had taken the initiative to remove his heavy hoodie, leaving nothing but a too-tight t-shirt that’s straining against his chest. You fit yourself into his lap, his thighs on either side of yours as your back leans onto his chest and you can feel his hard bulge against your lower back.

Namjoon follows Yoongi’s lead, tearing his top off as he inches up towards you on his knees. The sight of his upper body plus his fully out and erect dick makes your mouth water, and Yoongi could feel how you press your thighs together.

“Now what, ma’am?” Namjoon asks, underlying humor in his tone when he spoke the authoritative title. You scoff when Yoongi chuckles at it.

“It’s all fun n games til’ I don’t let either of you cum.”

It’s your turn to laugh as both men go quiet, and their sudden compliance makes you so fucking wet.

“Take my pants off…” you softly instruct Namjoon as you let one hand reach up to cup Yoongi’s jaw. “…panties too,” you add just before connecting lips with an eager Yoongi.

It’s soft and sweet, and Yoongi didn’t expect you to bite his lip so lewdly upon Namjoon manhandling your pants off.

His long fingertips pry their way into your waistband, aggressively tearing them down the length of your legs until they’re bunched at your ankles. It was so quick that you didn’t realize he took your panties off too until you felt a hand toying with your slit.

“She’s soaked…” Yoongi speaks against your lips, alerting Namjoon.

You gasp as you look down to see his large hand playing with your vulva, Namjoon sat in front of you with hunger displayed prominently on his features.

“Need your mouth Joonie,” you tell him, almost innocently. Yoongi moans at this, his fingers that were already on your cunt spread you open, and Namjoon’s breath is get against your clit until he closes his lips around it.

Suctioning slightly, you don’t get to let out the yelp you so badly needed to as Yoongi was quick to resume your kiss.

The pleasure isn’t unbearable yet, but you consider it to be halfway there when Yoongi brings his free hand to harshly squeeze onto your breast, massaging roughly until his fingers begin to toy with your nipple, softly flicking and rolling it between his two fingers.

Namjoon notices how overwhelmed you’re becoming from Yoongi as well as his own subtle licks, and that powers him to go quicker. Tongue lapping your clit, occasionally slipping into your hole, you arch against Yoongi’s chest until his free hand is prying you down, whispering against your lips to “take it like a slut.”

Namjoon shows some mercy by slowing down, his full attention reserved on your glistening bud when he pulls away for air. He flicks over it with the tip of his middle finger before sinking the digit lower, making it disappear inside of you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he curls it, and you let out a rather noisy shriek when Yoongi uses four fingers to rub against your clit- Namjoon adding another digit to your core.

“Mm, I can’t last like this—“ you whine, your breathing is frantic and your pitch is higher than ever. “Slower! I’m gonna… Fuck!”

The feeling that was rushing through your body was denied its release when both men, in sync, stopped their movements completely. You let out a sadistic laugh, dark eyes on Namjoon’s.

“You’re gonna what? Cum?” Namjoon tests as Yoongi teasingly bites at your neck.

Ignoring his words, you only bite back a smirk as you maneuver yourself to turn around and straddle Yoongi’s lap. You give him no warning when you reach into his sweats, stroking him through his boxers for just enough time to feel the wet patch in them until you’re taking him out completely, basking in his subtle whimpers as you smear his precum around with your thumb.

“C’mere,” you say loud enough for Namjoon to know it’s directed to him. “Sit right there,” you nod to the empty space beside you and Yoongi.

He does as told, mouth parted as he watches you handle Yoongi’s cock, goosebumps igniting him when he sees how you begin to line him up with your cunt.

“Play with yourself while I ride him, and don’t cum.”

The room is filled with three different sounds of pleasure when you sink down onto Yoongi, Namjoon watching intently as he syncs his pace on himself with your rhythm.

Yoongi hisses as the feeling of your lukewarm walls suffocating him in such a lewd and wanting way. Namjoon can only imagine how it feels, tightening his grip on himself to mimic it to the best of his abilities.

“So tight, Y/N…” Yoongi almost cries, but he redeems himself with a solid grunt, tucking his face into your neck.

Namjoon wishes it was him crying under you. Wishes it was his thick cock being bounced on ever so roughly. And you, you are head empty as you are in the clouds- soaking in the subtle euphoria that comes from just riding your best friend's dick.

However, you're brought to attention when you hear Namjoon moan your name, hips jolting profusely in spot as his hand trembles the slightest.

“Please.”

You could easily guess what he was referring to, but with an evil grin, you thought it was best to act clueless.

“Please what?”

“Let me cum.”

You suck in through your teeth when Yoongi’s own hips falter, his tip spiking right against where you crave it the most. The feeling is too good to get rid of, so you slow your pace and prolong the moment.

“I don’t think I wanna cum yet… his cock feels so good you have no idea.”

Yoongi blushes beneath you, cheekily placing a chaste kiss on your nipple before teasingly biting it with little to no pressure.

“Y/N.” Namjoon pries.

Yoongi glances over at the younger man, seeing how vulnerable and fucked-out he looks beneath his own touch. He almost pities him for a second, but then he’s brought back to his own pleasure when you bounce a little too hard on his dick and he chokes out a moan.

“Shit, I might cum if you do that again.”

Processing his words, you do it again.

Hips rising, you slam them back down onto him harshly- his whine being even louder than the sound of your skin slapping together. With his cock buried inside of you, balls pressing against your entrance, you roll your hips until he’s frantically feeling out your body in search of something to hold. He lands on your ass, squeezing almost painfully as his high shoots out of him and deep into you, his agape mouth frozen and eyes on a different planet.

Namjoon’s defeated huff shoots your eyes off of the hazed Yoongi and to him, giggling when you see his hand is no longer stroking himself.

“What’s the matter? Gave up?”

“Wanna feel you. Please.”

Exaggeratedly sighing, you ignore him for a moment as you go to grab Yoongi’s jaw and direct his head up and off of the sofa’s backrest, aligning your mouths together and placing a sloppy yet meaningful kiss on his lips.

“Thank you for coming so hard for me,” you whisper against his lips, his eyes still lazily shut in bliss. He only hums in response and with that, you carefully ease his softening cock out of you, feel the warm cum slipping out, and to your surprise- Yoongi’s fingers navigate to your core to stuff it right back in.

“Fuck him good,” Yoongi says as you settle beside Namjoon, now sitting in between the two men. Namjoon rolls his eyes at Yoongi’s banter, desperately eyeing you as you contemplate what to do with him.

“Do you even deserve to fuck me? I was so ready to cum earlier and you denied me.”

“Call it even.”

You scoff, eyes shamelessly flicking down to his aching cock. You feel Yoongi’s eyes on you, and so you straighten your posture as you try your absolute best to sound as seductive as possible when you say,

“But your cock did taste really good…”

Namjoon keeps his puppy eyes intact, hoping you cave and just finally allow his cock the release it so badly needs.

“Think I wanna taste it some more.”

Shifting your knees back onto the sofa, you kneel beside him, ass facing Yoongi as you recline down to align your mouth with Namjoon. Yoongi can’t resist tracing the fingerprints he left, and you giggle at the gesture as you place a soft peck on Namjoon’s tip.

Namjoon lets out the softest of whimpers as your tongue jets out and lands on his shaft, slowly licking him from tip to base and base to tip. Although his series of soft whimpers is quick to transform into something deeper when Yoongi’s fingers ease into your wet cunt- your moan emanating a vibration onto his cock.

“H-hyung go faster on her,” Namjoon speaks up, relishing in the way your throat tightens around his tip and mouth vibrates against his shaft at each moan.

The sight is so filthy, and you know if anyone were to walk in they’d not only smell the evidence of smoke but also see you getting finger fucked while you suck dick- you’d all be done for. But something about that very scene playing out drives you absolutely wild, and Yoongi can feel your pussy clench around his fingers at the mere thought.

If the room weren’t soundproof, you’d be moaning as loud as possible in hopes you do get caught.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum—” Namjoon speaks through a sharp inhale, tone frantic as his chest heaves. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

You feel his cock tense inside of your mouth, and despite the curl of Yoongi’s fingers in you, you resist a moan because you know that will trigger his orgasm. Instead, you stop completely, pulling back slowly and tortuously all while staring directly into his frantic, dark eyes.

And just as a smirk begins to pull at the corners of your lips, any further words or breaths are cut short as Namjoon’s hand grasps your neck, igniting a gasp that robs you of all oxygen, and somehow flips you back first onto the sofa. Having stood up in the process, he now stares down at you with one knee above your head- cock directly in front of your face. He grasps his shaft, angling his tip to your parted lips as he strokes hard and fast.

One look at Yoongi was all it took for the older man to understand, mimicking Namjoon’s stance and placing one knee on the sofa as he stood up straight on the other. Guiding your leg onto his shoulder, his fingers continued their strum on your cunt, pace almost inhumane as you whine “t-too much!”

Your cries bring Namjoon closer to the edge, stroking himself even faster than before as your hips jolt and buckle under Yoongi’s touch.

“I-I’m cumming, Yoongi. S-stop now…”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and everything is a foggy haze when your orgasm spills out of you- Yoongi still rubbing you frantically like it hasn’t.

You don’t see how Namjoon’s jaw drops and pace falters, and all goes black when something shoots out of you. The feeling is only enhanced by Namjoon’s webs of pleasure pooling onto miscellaneous spots of your face, especially your lips.

Yoongi’s fingers stop, and your clit throbs, and yet whatever you just did felt so fucking good that you still can’t open your eyes.

“Holy f—“

“You just squirted…” Yoongi notes in awe, just as out of breath as you and Namjoon.

Your eyes widen, instantly trailing down Yoongi’s figure and seeing the aftermath of your sudden liquids now in the form of water droplets running down his abdomen.

“Shit… I’m sorry—“

“Sorry?” Namjoon chuckles from above you, and you look up. His cock has yet to soften but his aura definitely has. He places a hand on your jaw and gently caresses your cheek. “Don’t be sorry, that was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

His thumb trails against your bottom lip, collecting his own orgasm and telling you “open,” before wiping it onto your tongue. You suck all remains off and swallow, eyes blissfully shutting once again.

“We should smoke together more often…” Yoongi mumbles as he sits back down in his original spot, directing your legs onto his lap.

“I’ll bring the speaker,” Namjoon adds, earning a giggle from you.

“And I’ll bring the song suggestions,” you joke, both men snickering lazily in exhaustion.

Namjoon grabs his Yoongi’s hoodie from the floor, using it to gently clean your face up before sitting down beside you, positioning your head to rest in his lap.

Maybe your music preference isn’t too bad after all, Yoongi silently thinks to himself with a grin.

~~~

a/n: i rly wanna say this is the smuttiest smut i’ve ever written but it was just another day in the office lmao. hope you enjoyed luvs! do all the things if u did <3

*kind of proofread, kinda not*

—

Well, maybe not. He loves a crisp shot of soju or cold pint of beer as much as anyone, but he's almost never drunk. He doesn't like to lose his measured restraint, his careful self-control. It's not that he has an image to maintain, exactly—he just likes to cover all his bases, keep himself in check, and not be completely embarrassed the next day when he wakes up hungover with a distinct memory of vomiting all over your shoes. (The pair you didn't mind throwing away; you'd walk around barefoot for the rest of your days if it meant you could have Yoongi.)

So when he finally comes home, scarlet red in the face and eyes half-lidded, you know he's had either a particularly good or particularly bad night. You hope it's not the latter as you walk over to help him out of his shoes, in nothing but your most revealing pajama shorts (it's laundry day) and a sports bra you're wearing as a top.

"C'mere," he mumbles, voice low and throaty as you bend down to untie his laces. He pulls you up before you get a chance to pull his sneakers off, kicking his feet out of them himself as he hungrily works his mouth against yours.

You sigh softly, giving in. Good night, it seems. Bad nights have Yoongi going straight to your bed in stony silence. He tastes like peach soju, like IPAs, like greasy bar snacks.

It's not long before he's deepening the kiss, pushing you up against the wall—gently, he still manages to be careful with you even in this state—and pinning your hips down with his narrow ones. You feel his erection stirring already, poking up against you while you loop your arms around his neck.

Another thing about drunk Yoongi: He's horny as all hell, and with all his inhibitions out the window, he's not even a little bit shy about what he wants.

When you first started dating, both of you found it hard to indicate when you wanted to have sex. You had less trouble initiating, but Yoongi wasn't exactly prone to openly expressing his desires and needs. He needed to be coaxed, and you needed to read him carefully. You knew now to look for the little signs: his fingers lingering a little too long around your waist or on your shoulder, the vague, barely detectable hint of wistfulness in his eyes as they flitted over your chest or ass.

This Yoongi, though? The one who isn't waiting a second before kneading your ass through your shorts and moving his fingers toward where you ache for him the most? You don't have to read him at all. Shy Yoongi is nowhere to be found.

His lips are so soft, his tongue gently easing you open and sliding over yours. Even after so many years, he manages to make you feel like a fourteen-year-old getting her first kiss. He has electricity crackling in your head, pumping in your veins. He brings his hands up to run his thumbs along your cheekbone—you jolt a little at the feel of his fingers, slightly chilled from the brutal wind outside, gently caressing your face.

He pulls back. He looks just as dazed and dizzy as you feel, but with mild concern darkening his eyes. "Are you okay? Too cold?" He looks down at your skimpy outfit and laughs. "Nothing to wear?"

"Shut up." You roll your eyes, but you admire the view the same way you did all those years ago when you first ran into him at some house party. It would be months before he made a move—Yoongi needed time to warm up to people, needed constant exposure and presence to get comfortable around you. But even then, that first night, you remember thinking how pretty he was. Milk-white skin, delicate features, disarming eyes, a smile that felt like a reward.

He's smiling at you now, though it's not the toothy grin he flashes when he's laughing at you for accidentally putting ice cream in the fridge or ranting about capitalism. He looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, slowly running a tongue between his lips. You shudder, for an entirely different reason.

"I take it you've sobered up," you murmur, staring at his perfectly pink pout.

"Not enough," he says, his voice taking on the low, rumbling cadence that sets a fire blazing in your center. 

That's it, you think, taking his narrow wrist in your hand and tugging him to the bedroom. He wriggles his arm out of your grip and wraps himself around you, attaching his lips to your neck on the way.

"You're ridiculous," you laugh as the two of you shuffle the remaining four feet to your bed.

He wastes no time, yanking off his shirt in one fluid motion before his fingers are teasing at the clasp of your bra. You simply admire him for a second. So pretty. So beautiful, his unmarked skin stretching smoothly over bone and muscle, his hair falling in delicate strands around his face and curling around his ears and neck. 

God, how did you get so lucky? Which king did you save in a past life for this king to be standing over you now, looking at you like you're the prize? You can't help it—you well up with tears as he takes your face in his hands and kisses you again, while you work furiously to undo the button on his jeans.

"Hold on," he mumbles against your mouth, detaching with his brows wrinkled. "Are you crying?"

Your tendency to burst into tears at unpredictable moments is a bottomless well of amusement for Yoongi, who hardly ever cries. You've cried at passing puppies on the sidewalk, half-deflated balloons hanging off random tree branches, and once even at an air purifier commercial. He once confessed to you that he found it so funny because you're so rarely emotional otherwise—in fact, he found you quite difficult to decipher. So it was extra unexpected when you wore your heart on your sleeve for once, your tears being the only obvious manifestation of your thoughts.

He pouts as he wipes at your tears, fighting to hide a grin from view. "Aigo," he coos. "Why? What is it?"

"Y-You're just so beautiful,” you hiccup, hiding your face in your hands.

He laughs out loud, then, shoulders shaking. "You—oh my god." He sits down on the bed beside you, the mattress dipping rightward so that you fall naturally into Yoongi's side. He pulls you into his chest, sighing. You take comfort in his touch running up and down your arm, the warmth of his bare skin. "You are so much more beautiful, you know that?"

Past all the glittering lights, layers of makeup, and flashy outfits, this is your Yoongi. Laid bare, literally and figuratively, he's your perfect other half. 

"Plus," Yoongi says, and you can hear him struggling not to laugh, "I've seen you cry about a lot of things, but that has by far got to be the corniest thing you've ever cried about."

You push him away, trying not to smile, and wipe at your face. "Forget it. I take it back. Can't stand to look at you."

He laughs breathlessly, easily tackling and pinning you down to the mattress. "You don't." He kicks off his jeans before kissing along your jawline, your throat, your collarbone, drawing soft sighs of contentment. His hands pin your arms on either side of your head—you feel trapped in the best way.

Who could have imagined this, that night at some random celebrity's house party, that you—a friend of a friend, a plus one, an outsider by any measure—would be the one to catch Min Yoongi's eye? You didn't even expect to see him there, despite the rumors that he was tight with the host, having heard how studiously he avoided these unpredictable and loud and messy social gatherings. 

And yet, a few beers, awkward conversations, and chance encounters had led to this. To Yoongi bringing his leg up between your legs while suckling blooming marks over your chest, dancing around your nipples but never quite reaching them, and the slight friction from his knee against your crotch having you whining out loud for more.

"P-Please," you gasp as Yoongi releases one of your wrists to circle a thumb around your right nipple. "I need you."

"I can tell," Yoongi chuckles. He's an angelic vision above you, his soft skin reflecting the dim bedside light as he flicks his too-long hair back and leans down again. "Always so ready for me."

Yoongi had once told you, late at night when neither of you could sleep, that he had feared he'd never find love. While he never worried too deeply about finding a significant other, he found dating impractical, if not totally impossible. He didn't want to date fans, didn't want to date another celebrity, and he definitely didn't want to leave a significant other hanging while he pursued his music. It felt like a lost cause no matter which way he looked at it.

Then, he'd said, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours beneath the sheets, he'd realized most of those doubts had stemmed from a lack of self-love, self-worth. That whoever was right for him would make up for his shortcomings and wait for him when needed, and that love would come when he was ready for it.

He hadn't gone so far as saying it out loud, but by then you could easily read between his lines and hear the words he didn't say. You were it for him, your Yoongi.

Your shy Yoongi, your Yoongi who pretends to be dry and unconcerned but is really the most patient and sweetest man you've ever known. Your Yoongi who will do little things like tuck the sheets back over you in the morning and wipe your shoes clean and push your hair back over your shoulder while you eat. 

Your Yoongi, whose mouth is quickly descending toward the apex of your thighs while his fingers tease at the waist of your shorts. You lift your hips so he can pull them off—once you're naked and squirming below him, he licks up your core without warning.

You let out a broken moan, the long-denied touch finally soothing your nerve endings. He chuckles a little at the sound before beginning to eat you out in earnest, his tongue and lips doing things so skilled and sinful that you're struggling to breathe.

Yoongi's not one to talk much in the bedroom, and it's just as well because you think you'll die if he removes his face from you for one second. He moves up slightly to gently suck at your bud, his fingers teasing along your folds, and you think you might die right then and there.

"Yooooongi," you keen as he finally sheathes his index and middle fingers inside of you. His fingers are thin, delicate, but you feel so full with them inside you, the friction of his pumping motions driving you insane. 

"Yeah?" he mumbles against your clit, his fingers moving faster. He scissors them, curls them inside of you. Your eyes roll back in your head as he expertly strokes against your g-spot, over and over, and you feel yourself rapidly reaching your peak.

"Fuck.... I'm about to.... oh!”

You let out a cry as your body convulses without warning, the pleasure ripping through you like a thousand bullets, your back bowing off the bed. Yoongi patiently works you through it, removing his mouth from your bud but continuing the gentle pumping until you squirm from the overstimulation.

"God," you pant, throwing your arm over your face. "You're going to kill me."

He exhales in amusement before climbing on top of the bed. Your lip twitches when you see just how rock-hard he is, his erection straining against the cotton of his briefs. "Come here."

You realized after the first few nights with him that he likes being face-to-face with you while making love to you. Most guys didn't even bother to really look at you, just laser-focused on getting you off as quickly as possible so they could get the release they wanted. But Yoongi wants to make sure you're enjoying this. Your pleasure is his.

You help him pry off his underwear, trying not to salivate at the sight that greets you. God, even his dick is unfairly pretty. You gently lower your head and run your tongue over his leaking tip. He grunts in pleasure, throwing his head back against the headboard, gripping at the sheets.

"Get up here," he mumbles, running his hands—his gorgeous, veined, slender artist's hands—over his thighs.

You happily oblige. Yoongi's favorite position, because he can watch you fall apart, have you use him like a fucktoy. You straddle him, the drip of your warm arousal making him jump with anticipation, before you lift yourself up just enough to sink down onto him.

Perfection. There's a slight burn, as there always is, from the intrusion of Yoongi's sheer girth, but your body quickly adjusts to accommodate his size. You grip onto the headboard, head falling forward against his shoulder and breathing heavily, while you wait for the tingling pain and sensitivity to subside.

"All good?" Yoongi whispers, splaying his fingers over your hips. He presses a quick kiss to your temple, and your heart bursts.

You would give Yoongi the moon if he asked. You'd give him the stars, the ocean, every grain of sand. He's right—you are hopelessly corny. But only because it's him, looking flushed and lovely beneath you, his eyes blown out and chest heaving up and down in anticipation of your next move. No one else could make you feel like this. You can't even conceive of a person who makes you feel more whole than Min Yoongi.

You lift yourself up slowly before pushing back down again, eliciting guttural groans from both of you. Yoongi throws his head back, his pale skin glistening with sweat and flushed pink, his hands kneading at your thighs as you bounce up and down. The heat pools in your lower belly again, the sensitivity dissolving into pure need.

It's the way he's looking at you, his eyes wide like he can't quite believe the sight in front of him, that has you inching close to release again. He simply admires you the way you admire him, his hands sliding from thighs to waist, coming up to massage your nipples before settling back down at your waist again. You shudder as the heat rushes to your core all over again, the coil inside you tightening, aching for release.

He tilts his head back, tongue sliding over his bottom lip while he observes you through half-lidded eyes, and you swear you could come at that alone. Your thighs burn—noticing your movements slowing, Yoongi doesn't waste a second before holding you down by your hips and thrusting up into you. 

You choke out a moan. "God," you whimper, leaning back onto your hands. "I'm close."

Yoongi's thumb goes for the kill, landing on your clit, and he lets out a groan when he feels you pulse around him. "Come," he says. 

That single word, rasping and emerging from deep in his chest, is enough to have you whining with pleasure. "Yoongi," you cry out, your body spasming for a second time as the pure euphoria rushes through you. "Yoongi."

"Shhh," he murmurs, kissing gently along your collarbone. You feel his cock still rock-hard and throbbing inside of you, aching for its own relief, but here he is. Attending to you. Putting you first, as always.

Your thighs recovering, you start to bounce up and down on his cock again, sliding just enough so that only his tip stays inside before thrusting down. Yoongi massages your ass, bucking beneath you and making small grunting noises that you swear are the soundtrack to heaven.

You could die hearing those noises from him, knowing it's you who unravels him like this.

"Yoongi," you pant as he fucks up into you, "are you close?"

"Fuck," he mumbles into your shoulder. “I’m—fuck."

He comes quietly, letting out a barely audible gasp as his cum shoots out. You feel his warmth spreading inside of you, ropes of white and your arousal making a mess where your bodies meet.

"Oh, my god." He chuckles, his mouth pressed against your neck. "I've been neglecting you, haven't I?"

"Maybe a little," you say, teasingly. You know he can't help it that he gets lost in his work, that he's overwhelmed by the desire to commit to his craft. He could spend a month straight in the studio, probably without sleeping, if you weren't around to make sure he ate and got some sunlight.

And while you have felt a bit lonely, the way Yoongi looks at you and guards you like a jewel is incomparable. It's not always rainbows and butterflies, but there could never be anyone else for you. No amount of quality time with anyone else could surpass Yoongi. 

"I'm sorry." He kisses you again, and you relish in the pure, familiar feel of his warm lips against yours. He pulls back, mouth slightly open as if stunned but eyes locked firmly on yours.

~*~

“So… it’s been nearly a week,” Jimin prompts just as you tip your head back to take a long swig of your beer. The bratty tone in your best friend’s voice only encourages you to chug another swallow before you set the glass back down. He doesn’t even have to say the since you fucked your coworker part out loud.

Using the provided scissors and tongs, he starts to cut up the strips of pork belly laid flat on the grill between you. “When’s the wedding? Have you named your kids yet?”

“I can’t stand you,” you whine, torn between wanting to kick him under the table and wanting him to share the meat he’s been so carefully preparing. The aroma is making your mouth water as it sizzles on the hot surface.

You settle for fixing him with your best death glare.

Jimin shrugs, unbothered. “That’s fine. I just wanna know how you’re handling the fact that you are now officially sleeping with the enemy.”

“Aht aht. Slept with.” You raise a finger to correct him, using your other hand to maneuver your chopsticks to pick up a marinated cucumber and pop it into your mouth. “Past tense.”

Jimin purses his lips, looking unconvinced. “Is that so?”

“Are you kidding me?” You make a face. “It was a moment of weakness, and now it’s done. What would be the point in letting him have it again? In letting him win like that?” You wave a hand dismissively. “Absolutely not.”

“You are so dumb,” Jimin laughs as he starts to extoll pork onto your plate. “I cannot believe you found good dick and now you’re actively declining it. After how insane you nearly went? You think that won’t happen again?”

“I got it out of my system,” you say with a proud shake of your head, popping a piece of meat into your mouth. It’s so hot it nearly burns your tongue off, but the flavor is well worth it, and you continue with your mouth full. “And I’m good. Moving on with my life.”

Jimin hums like he doesn’t believe a damn word. “And how’s that gonna work out for you in a couple weeks, when you and Suga are in Los Angeles together, breathing that sweet American air? And sharing a hotel room that just so happens to only have one bed?”

With the pork belly successfully secured on your plate, you have no reason to hold back from kicking him this time. “You watch too much TV.”

“Speaking of!” He pauses with food halfway to his mouth, dropping it back onto his plate as he digs into his pocket for his phone. “My comps finally came in for the show I’m dancing in this weekend. I’m not even going to ask if you have plans because I already know the answer, so you better fucking be there.”

You pick up your phone to see his text come in, face scrunching up as you chew. “Two questions,” you prompt. “One, I fail to see what this has to do with watching TV. And two, why did you send me two tickets?”

Jimin rests his elbows on the table, fingers laced together under his chin, somewhere in between posing cutely and looking like he’s about to read you for filth.

“Out of the kindness of my heart, because I am such a good fucking friend, I am giving you a chance for a little Business Proposal moment. Bring your Suga, see what happens.” He shrugs a shoulder. “One concert could change everything, you know?”

You grind your teeth together and reach for your drink as he uses your favorite show against you, humming the theme tune under his breath. “I really hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately. But I am not bringing Suga to your fucking concert,” you clarify, glass halfway to your mouth. “There is a world of difference between wanting to fuck someone and wanting to spend an evening with them.”

“So you do still want to fuck him,” Jimin presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows. “Very interesting.”

“Don’t make me leave you with the bill.” You roll your eyes and down the rest of your beer in one swig.

An hour later, you’ve eaten your body weight in grilled meats and have thrown back enough beers that the world blurs gently at the edges, vignetted, as you slip out onto the sidewalk and say goodnight to your best friend.

You’d managed to convince Jimin to meet at the place that’s just a few blocks from your apartment, and it’s not a terribly cold evening, all things considered. The alcohol certainly helps keep you warm as you make the short walk back home, the still-busy streets humming and blinking soft around you.

It takes a concentrated effort to use your phone without tripping in your current state, and you thumb slowly through your texts until you land on the concert tickets from Jimin. When his words echo again in your brain, you do your best to chase them off with a frustrated sigh.

It will be a cold day in hell before you voluntarily spend an evening with Yoongi, you tell yourself. But it’d be nice to go with someone.

You’re scrolling down your contact list and lifting the ringing phone to your ear before you can decide whether or not it’s a good idea.

After two rings, the line connects, and a voice answers. “Hello?”

“Hi, Jungkook.” You giggle a little despite yourself. You’ve never spoken to your coworker in any state of inebriation before, and once his name leaves your mouth, you realize you’re a little more fucked up than you bargained for. But it’s fine, you tell yourself. You’re fine.

“Hi— is everything okay?”

You double-blink, not expecting the check-in. “Yeah, no, everything’s great.” It only occurs to you now that maybe you’ve interrupted whatever his post-work plans might be. “Sorry, I— were you in the middle of something?”

He lets out a sheepish laugh, and you imagine that his cheeks are flushed pink, the way they sometimes get after boxing class. “Nothing important. I was brushing my dog’s teeth, actually. You just, uh, usually text—”

“Wait,” you fully interrupt him. “You have a dog?”

“I have three dogs,” he corrects, with another light laugh that’s almost musical. “My sons.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in mock-anger. “I am hurt and betrayed that you have kept this information from me!”

“I’m sorry!” He giggles back, clearly flustered. “It didn’t come up! I’ll send you some pictures, I promise. They’re very cute.”

“You better,” you huff. “And here I was getting ready to be nice to you.”

“Oh?” Jungkook sounds intrigued. There’s a soft shifting sound on the line, and you find yourself wondering if he’s laying down in bed, phone pressed to his cheek. The image makes your heart sink a little, and you shove the feeling away to process when you’re less tipsy. “How were you going to be nice?”

You pause for a moment to cross the street, letting your fake-hurt charade drop. “Well, my best friend is a dancer, and he was booked to perform in this concert that’s happening tomorrow night. He gave me a free ticket and an extra, and I was wondering, if you’re not doing anything… if you want to go with me?”

“Yeah, for sure!” You swear you can hear Jungkook’s smile light up the phone. “That sounds awesome.”

You linger at the front of your apartment building, phone tucked to your ear, watching cars and bicyclists roll by in the neon smear of the city at night. “Awesome,” you repeat back. “I’ll text you my address if you want to come pick me up after work?” A little bubble of excitement floats up and pops in your chest.

“I can definitely do that.”

~*~

“You need to fill all this out for the Grammy’s trip.”

The large stack of registration paperwork lands on Yoongi’s desk with a resounding thud, but he doesn’t so much as bat an eye. Though you’ve put on a brave face and moved back to your desk in the lobby after the happy hour incident, you’ve still avoided any alone time with the genius in his lab, as much as you can help it.

Today, it could not be helped. Especially given your need for a change in schedule.

“And I’m leaving early tonight.” You add, trying to feign confidence, just be direct and to the point. “I need you out of here at five, Yoongi.”

He grunts a noncommittal response, but doesn’t look up from the screen of his computer. His eyes are squinting slightly at the tracks on his mixing software. You wonder for a moment if maybe he needs glasses.

You furrow your brow as soon as you process the thought—what the fuck do you care about this man’s eyesight? You give your head a subtle shake in hopes of dislodging the idea.

Yoongi waves a hand silently, as if to imply you’re dismissed.

You really don’t know what makes you say it. “Jungkook and I are going to a concert.”

At this, Yoongi’s concentration seems to falter. He glances away from the screen, head tilting slightly to one side as he eyes you. “A date with Kookie, huh? Cute. I knew you two would get there eventually.”

You’re not sure what other conclusion you expected him to draw from the information, but suddenly your face is hot. You have to suppress the physical urge to squirm in frustration, to literally stomp your feet like a toddler.

“Can you just be normal?” You snap. “It’s not like that. Not everyone wants to fuck their coworkers all the time.”

He spins a quarter-circle in his chair to fully face you with an eyebrow raised. “Does Jungkook know it’s not like that?”

You stammer at being put on the spot. “I-I’m sure he does.”

Yoongi blinks lazily at you. “Uh huh.”

Rage flares up in your gut before you can stop it. “Jungkook is a nice guy. He’s not a boundary-crossing creep like you.” The words sting like acid as they leave your mouth. 

Yoongi gets to his feet so quickly you barely have time to process it.

For every step he takes towards you, you take one towards the door of his lab, walking backwards. “You know,” he mutters darkly, “I liked your mouth a lot better when it was on my cock.”

Your back finds purchase against the closed door, and you swallow hard, refusing to show fear.  “Well, remember it fondly, because I’m not making that mistake twice.”

Yoongi falls quiet for a moment, eyes searching yours. You’re a little surprised when he takes a step back. “Do you really feel like I violated a boundary?” His voice is flat, nearly monotone, when he asks the question.

You fumble for your words, for the truth; both are hard to find. “I-I don’t know.”

He surveys you with an expression you can’t decipher. “I gave you plenty of opportunity to say no. Do you feel like you were too drunk?”

“No. I mean, I consented. I’m not saying I didn’t. I just… we’re coworkers.”

“I’m aware. You called it a mistake. Do you regret it?”

“Do you?”

He huffs a dry laugh. “You keep acting like I’m not stating it plainly here. I would love to fuck you senseless again any time, sweetheart.” The pet name is biting. “I’d take you right up against this door, if you wanted. But not if you’re going to regret it.”

Your mind swims as you try to make sense of this conversation. “What if I don’t?”

Yoongi takes a single step closer to you. “Well, then I’d ask you when you want it again.”

The expression on his face, as if he’s won some smug game, is endlessly infuriating. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “And what makes you think I’ll just give it up again?”

He just keeps smirking, eyes locked on you. “You tell me. I’m the one asking permission here.”

You tilt your chin up towards Yoongi, suddenly very aware of how close he is to you. Something in you pulls taught as you recall your conversation in the bathroom after he nearly came in your mouth.

“If you want it so bad, then beg for it.” The words spark between your teeth as you say them.

There’s a glint in Yoongi’s eyes, and a muscle in his jaw jumps, as if he wasn’t expecting that response. Then he slowly starts to nod. “Is that what you want?”

You refuse to look away. “Did I stutter?”

His tongue darts out briefly to wet his lips, and then he laughs an exhale, a single indignant breath. Eye contact never faltering, you watch as he drops to his knees in front of you.

“Can I touch you?” He asks. The silence of the room hangs heavy between you, roaring in your ears like white noise. Yoongi blinks once, dark lashes fluttering. “Please?”

You feel some last mechanism of inner restraint shatter as you nod.

Yoongi’s touch is deliberate but, surprisingly, not rough. His palms meet the backs of your thighs and begin to slide up, encouraging you to pull your hips off the door and allow him room, your shoulders still pressed flush against the wood behind you.

His hands keep moving, slipping under the back of your dress with no hesitation, only stopping when he finds what he’s looking for: the band of your panties, which he hooks his thumbs under and swiftly pulls down your legs, leaving the lacy fabric to pool around your ankles. You shift to kick them off and suddenly realize your mouth has gone dry.

“Do I have to use my words?” Yoongi asks, voice low. His hands retrace their path back up your thighs, but he takes his time with it now. You hate the way your breath is starting to go shaky from his touch.

“What else would you use?”

“My tongue.”

Yoongi has pushed the hem of your dress up, his mouth devastatingly close to your center and his hands cupping your ass. He stares up at you, waiting patiently for a response, dark eyes brimming with want.

You’re still not even sure of your answer as you start to say it, but then a firm knock at the door cuts you off, loud enough to rattle your brain inside your skull. Ice floods your veins as your eyes go wide.

“Min Suga?” Jungkook’s voice calls from the other side.

Your breath hitches in your chest. This can’t be happening.

“Hey, JK,” Yoongi calls, not moving from where he’s knelt on the floor in front of you, both hands still firmly grabbing your ass. “Sorry, I’ve–” he glances pointedly up at you, and it takes everything you have not to slap him when he continues, “I’ve kinda got my hands full right now. What’s up?”

“No worries, you gave me the code, remember?” Your stomach twists violently as you hear the distinct beeping of Jungkook starting to type into the number pad.

You tear your gaze away from Yoongi to your lacy underwear, in plain sight, too far away that you can’t possibly retrieve them in the mere seconds you have to react.

Adrenaline surges through you, enough to make you lightheaded, to make your limbs go numb. There’s no time to do anything. You flatten yourself against the door as the handle starts to turn and the overwhelming urge to cry rushes up into your chest.

Yoongi seems to finally take the situation seriously, because in a flash, he’s on his feet, arms caging you in on either side to push firmly back against the door. His forearms peek out from under the short sleeves of his black t-shirt— you can see the defined muscles there flex and work, the way his veins bulge under his pale skin as he presses all his weight into the door with a look of real, concentrated effort.

Fuck. You’re not sure you’ve ever been simultaneously aroused and on the verge of tears before.

“Sorry, Jungkook,” Yoongi tries again, and you can hear him attempting to keep the strain out of his voice. “I’m, uh– redecorating a bit in here. I’ve got some stuff blocking the door right now. Can we just talk like this?”

“Oh yeah, sure, okay!” Jungkook answers brightly. You squeeze your eyes shut, desperately willing this nightmare to be over. While you’re pretty sure Jungkook won’t try the door again, an animalistic part of you is still too terrified to do anything, frozen in fear at what nearly just happened.

You’re only distantly aware of Jungkook babbling on about work. “I’ve got a few questions about upcoming release scheduling, so I can know what content we need to get ready. Can you talk me through the rest of Q1 real quick? Just so I know what’s coming when.”

A shiver runs through you at the feeling of a touch, so barely-there that at first you think you might be imagining it.

Your eyes flutter open to find one of Yoongi’s large hands pressed to your throat, delicate fingers splayed over the column of your neck.

It could be aggressive, but it’s not. Decidedly not. His touch is featherlight, and he applies no pressure to your windpipe. If anything, the gentle weight of his hand is oddly… comforting. A word you would never have thought to associate with Min fucking Yoongi before this moment.

The silver chain bracelet on his wrist winks in the soft purple glow of his studio lights, and you stare at it in a daze, entranced. You can feel your adrenaline high beginning to crash: the world feels muted, faded, far away.

“Go ahead, Jungkook,” Yoongi prompts, and you wonder if you’re imagining that his voice has softened just the slightest bit.

You drag your gaze up to him as he starts to talk through scheduling with Jungkook, his tone all business. He’s not looking at you, eyes instead fixed firmly on the door in front of him, occasionally rolling up to glance at the ceiling when he’s trying to recall something.

As your heart rate starts to settle, you take a moment to drink in Yoongi’s features unobserved. The line of his jaw. The slight furrow of his brow. His full, pink lips.

Your throat jumps when you swallow under his touch, and he doesn’t look down, but his hand begins to move. His palm stays heavy over the slope of your throat, but his fingers and thumb move smoothly, tracing faint patterns over your skin, stroking along the muscles of your neck and setting every last one of your nerve endings alight.

Your eyes are heavy-lidded with lust now, and your head tips back against the door, all thoughts blotted out at his touch. Fuck, it feels good.

A gasp slips past your lips when you feel Yoongi’s other hand brush over your leg, and you pray the door is thick enough that the sound doesn’t carry. He’s still talking through scheduling with Jungkook, answering questions as calmly as ever, as his whole palm comes to rest on one of your thighs below the hem of your dress, fingers just barely teasing under the fabric.

When Yoongi finally meets your gaze, his dark eyes pierce straight through you, as if to pin you to the door. He raises one eyebrow in a silent question, and the meaning is unmistakable: another request for permission.

Arousal rolls through you like a riptide, and you’re dragged under before you can even think to fight it. The dramatics of the previous close call linger— it feels like you’ll die if he doesn’t touch you right now. The fact that you shouldn’t be doing this only makes you want it more.

You don’t look away as you nod your consent.

You spread your legs to allow him room, hips tilting up, and Yoongi slips his hand under your dress to snake between your parted thighs. Fresh desire mixes with the cotton-numb fuzz of dwindling panic in your brain, the knowledge that Jungkook is still inches away from you and talking as Yoongi’s hand approaches your center. You have to bite down on your bottom lip at the first brush of contact.

Their conversation continues on, but you don’t process a word of it.

Yoongi traces two fingers gently over the lips of your cunt, teasing devastatingly close to your clit before moving down to circle at your entrance, where he slicks them in the wetness that has already started to pool there.

He keeps his movements so slow, his touch so light; your mind belatedly catches up to realize that anything more will surely start to elicit an audible sound.

You wonder if maybe this is it, if he’s just going to torture you, his fingers running through your folds in long strokes that have your core throbbing until you can’t take it anymore. And then he laughs a little at a comment Jungkook makes and uses the moment of sound coverage to deftly press those two fingers into you.

You bite down even harder on your lower lip in an attempt to stay quiet. Yoongi’s fingers push in to the hilt, long and thick enough to fill you up entirely. It’s all you can do to keep your breathing steady— the feeling of him inside of you jolts through you with every inhale.

Desperate for movement and nearly shaking with hypersensitivity, you clench your pussy around his fingers in a silent plea for more.

As if in response, the hand around your throat just barely tightens. You don’t know whether to read it as encouragement or a warning, but it makes your eyes flutter closed all the same.

His fingers begin to curl at a truly torturous pace, and then they press so firmly into your g-spot that your knees nearly buckle.

You’re hardly cognizant of the room around you anymore, or the wood of the door digging into your back; nothing else seems to matter in this moment except the weight of Yoongi’s fingers and the way your walls grip tightly around them.

Your eyes snap open again when his other hand suddenly leaves your throat. You feel exposed without it, but you shiver all over as the warmth of his palm trails along your collarbone before traveling down the slope of your body to settle at your waist.

As soon as that hand stills, the other pulls back from the heat of your cunt, and he brings his fingers up to brush over your bottom lip. His eyes roam hungrily over your face as he asks another silent question.

You open your mouth like a reflex, and you willingly let Yoongi pet the taste of you over your tongue. Your lips close around his fingers, and your gaze stays locked with his as you hollow your cheeks to suck diligently, swallowing down your own slickness.

With a heady groan, he withdraws, leaning forward to brace the same hand against the door just next to your head.

It occurs to you now that he’s no longer speaking, no longer afraid of making noise. Jungkook must have left– you can’t say when that happened.

The returning silence of the room pulses like a heartbeat. Yoongi is hovering over you, lips slightly parted, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath, and you swear the distance between you is narrowing by the second.

“Nervous?” He murmurs, so quiet you easily could’ve imagined it.

“Fuck me.” Your voice comes out a little hoarse.

“Hmm?” Yoongi freezes where he is, sounding almost dazed when he hums the question. Just shy of your mouth but invitingly, dangerously close.

Your hands are already fumbling to undo the buckle of his belt. “I said fuck me, Yoongi,” you snap. “Up against this door. Before I change my mind.”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth just barely pulls up. “God, you’re bossy,” he murmurs, but then his arm is no longer caging you against the door, and he makes quick work of getting his pants and boxers pushed down.

When he backs off, you draw in a breath that’s like coming up for air.

Your head reels a little when you see that he’s fully hard and starting to drip precum: you’re not sure when that happened, either. He retrieves a condom from his wallet and makes short work of tearing it open with his teeth.

The thought of his mouth so close to yours again is terrifying in a way you don’t have words for. Before he can step back towards you, you turn and press both hands flush with the door. You reach down briefly to hike the hem of your dress up over your hips.

It’s mildly humiliating to present yourself like this for him, exposed, back arched, your pussy aroused enough to slick your thighs and just waiting to be filled again. And yet, not unlike the risk of getting caught, the shame only makes it hotter, in some twisted way.

​​Yoongi braces one hand against the door, gripping your hip tightly with the other. You breathe in shallow gasps as his cock teases your entrance, and then he slowly starts to press into you.

“Shit, Yoongi,” you whine softly, overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you open. The stretch of him makes your eyes roll back in your head, just as perfect as you remember, and all you can do is take it. When he bottoms out, you do your best to bite back a moan, wiggling your ass to fully sheathe him inside of you, wanting every inch.

“Fuck,” he hisses. You whimper again in response.

“We still have to be pretty quiet— these walls aren’t that thick. Guess you can’t scream my name this time.” His voice is dark, sardonic, and you grit your teeth as you look at him over your shoulder.

“Will you shut up and fuck me?”

“Didn’t realize you were my manager,” he huffs, but then he starts to thrust, hard and fast, and you choke on a barely-suppressed noise. You arch up higher to push back on him, your body begging silently for it, your walls fluttering as the thick head of his cock drags over your g-spot again and again.

Yoongi’s hand on your hip shifts, fingers splaying over the soft flesh of your ass, digging in hard enough to bruise. You inhale sharply at the sweet sparks of pleasure-pain, already edged close and losing the fight to stay quiet.

“How does it feel?”

You’re surprised by the question, and even more so at the sincerity with which Yoongi seems to ask it, voice low in his throat and a little raw. You have to scramble to find words through the haze of your impending climax.

“I-it’s good,” you manage. His hips snap into you even harder and you gasp again. “Fuck, really good.”

He exhales a dark laugh. “Yeah, I can tell. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight, shit.”

Your head nearly smacks against the door from how forcefully his cock is now pounding into your tight heat. You roll your eyes– of course he wasn’t sincerely asking. You want to kick yourself for even entertaining the idea that Min Yoongi could be anything other than a selfish asshole.

Despite that fact, his rough, relentless thrusts are enough to leave you breathless, and the pleasure builds hot and fast in your core. Your head is spinning, and a shiver rips through you when you suddenly feel his breath over your neck, hear his voice in your ear.

“Gonna think about getting fucked like this on your date tonight?”

The stifled whine you let out and the way your pussy throbs around him betray any denial you could’ve tried to make. You look back over your shoulder at him, attempting to say something, anything, and then Yoongi’s hand slips down to circle your clit and you lose the ability to think coherently at all.

“Wanna feel you come on my cock,” Yoongi murmurs, and you swear your legs almost give out.

It’s just white-hot pleasure now, and you have to clamp a hand over your mouth and sob into it as your orgasm crests, your thighs shaking violently under his touch.

“Fuuuck,” Yoongi groans hoarsely as you start to pulse around him, over and over. His breathing comes in ragged gasps that match the pace of his hips as he keeps rutting into you, until he pushes all the way in with a last grunt of effort and you milk his release out with yours.

You slump forward, heart racing, and brace your forearms on the door to let your head loll between them. Yoongi stays stationary for a moment too, the hand on your hip absent-mindedly kneading into your skin, before he finally shifts and withdraws from your still-quivering cunt.

With a steadying exhale, you slowly right yourself on shaking legs while he steps away to deal with the condom.

Once your path is clear, you don’t wait around to suffer any small talk. You move to retrieve your panties off the floor and pull them back on with the last scrap of dignity you can manage. Then you shove your dress down over your hips and cross back to the door.

You leave without a second glance back at Yoongi. 

When you emerge from the Genius Lab, you make an immediate beeline for the bathroom, which is thankfully empty. It’s only once you press your palms flat against the cool marble countertop of the sink that you feel like you can breathe again, and you have to make a conscious effort not to hyperventilate.

Your mind is racing as you take in your reflection in the mirror and attempt to put yourself back together, trying your best to look like you didn’t just get fucked against a door.

A door in the office. Because you are at work. Where you just had sex with a coworker you hate.

The realization of what you just did, how stupid you just were, hits you like a train. Fuck. You’re met with the overwhelming urge to scream at yourself. What is wrong with you? Your eyes roam over your own face, as if you might find the answer hidden there somewhere; your bottom lip is slightly swollen from how hard you were biting down on it.

Can you call something a mistake if you’ve voluntarily made it twice now– and while stone cold sober the second time, no less? And what if it’s a mistake you want to make again?

That can’t happen, you firmly tell your reflection. You won’t let Yoongi get a third strike on you, and you certainly won’t let him fuck up this job for you any more than he already has. He is now officially out of your system.

You gently smooth out your hair, and then you pause, fingertips lingering over the skin of your neck. You tilt your chin up slightly to get a good look in the mirror. There aren’t any visible marks, but you can’t quite shake the memory of Yoongi’s hand closed over your throat— the way everything in the world seemed to blink out of existence under his touch, if only for a moment.

It’s over, you tell yourself again. It has to be.

With a resigned sigh, you run your hands down over the front of your dress, then check the back to confirm there aren’t any weird stains. As much as you want to hide away in the bathroom for the rest of the day, you force yourself back out the door and down the hallway towards the lobby.

Your heart creeps into your throat as your footsteps bring you closer to the Genius Lab, and you forcefully tell yourself that it’s not a big deal. You’re just going to walk right by and head to your desk to proceed with the rest of your work day, thoroughly unbothered.

At this point you wonder why you’re even surprised when the door swings open and Yoongi practically runs into you. You jump out of his way, startled— and you are surprised to see that he has his bag slung over his shoulder and his dark sunglasses on.

“Just heading out,” Yoongi mutters, and your only answer is to keep your gaze fixed on your shoes when you brush past him and continue down the hall.

You’re sure he must be following after you, and you have to swallow the urge to interrogate him— ask why he’s leaving so early, where he’s going. You don’t care, you remind yourself. Not having him around is a good thing.

As you approach the office lobby, you glance up to see Jungkook walking towards you from the other direction. He holds up a hand in a lazy wave, and you come to a dead stop.

It’s the first time you’ve ever felt anything other than happy to see your coworker. Now panic rises in your chest, a wonder if maybe, somehow, he knows what happened on the other side of the Genius Lab door.

“I was just coming to find you,” he says as he crosses to meet you where the two hallways join and spill into the lobby.

You can tell from the look on his face that he means it. There’s no hidden agenda. Nothing to hold over your head. It’s enough to make you exhale a small laugh of relief.

“Well, you found me,” you say.

“Leaving already, Min Suga?” Jungkook’s gaze jumps to look behind you, and dread pools in your stomach. You couldn’t imagine a more mortifying exchange right now if you tried.

Yoongi doesn’t dignify Jungkook with a response, only hums noncommittally as he slips past the two of you and heads for the exit. Your stomach clenches as you wait to hear the doors open and close, praying there’s no sarcastic remark coming, praying he’ll just leave.

His hand presses flat against the glass, and then he turns over his shoulder, as if he’s just thought of something. “You kids have fun tonight,” he quips dryly. Then he pushes the door open and slips out into the hallway.

Jungkook looks a little lost. “Oh, uh, did you tell Suga that we–”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, it sort of came up. When I said he needed to leave early.” Jungkook nods, and you’re eager to change the subject. “What did you want to ask me?”

“I realized we didn’t agree on a time for me to pick you up tonight. I was thinking seven, if that works?”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest as you take in Jungkook’s sweet smile, the expectant but patient look on his face, Baby-Star-Candy eyes blinking. Your earlier conversation with Yoongi echoes in your mind like a knife to the gut.

“Actually, JK, can I talk to you? About tonight?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yeah, I, uh– I just wanted to make sure you knew that…” You tense up as you prepare to deliver the blow. “This… isn’t a date. I was asking you as friends. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says simply. His face betrays no hurt feelings.

You’re rambling, unable to believe it could be this easy. “I mean, I-I just… don’t think it’s a good idea, you know? For coworkers to date.” Or fuck, a snide voice in your head adds.

Jungkook nods. “No, I totally get it, but seriously, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I really like being your friend.” He shrugs, as if that’s all there is to it. “So, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Relief floods through you like a balm. “Seven sounds great.”

“Cool.” He’s already reaching into his back pocket for his phone. “Can I show you pictures of my dogs now?”

~*~

At 6:55, there’s a firm knock on your door, and you squeak as you dig through the bottom of your closet in search for the right pair of shoes.

You spent most of the last hour on FaceTime with Jimin, who did what a good best friend is meant to do: viciously tear apart nearly everything in your closet while bent forward in a straddle split, warming up for his performance.

The two of you had eventually (more or less) compromised on a black t-shirt dress with a denim jacket thrown over top. Though Jimin had derided the look as “basic”, you’ve decided you’re just fine with that.

You finally find what you're looking for, retrieving your white Air Force Ones and stumbling to pull them on your socked feet as you trip out of your room and towards the front door.

You lean down to tie the laces as quickly as you can, then flip back upright, blood rushing to your head so fast you feel a little faint. You’re not sure why your heart has started to pick up speed, but you let out an exhale as you reach for the door handle, hoping it might help offset these strange sudden nerves.

You turn the handle and swing the door open to greet Jungkook with a smile– and your jaw drops at the sight waiting for you on the other side.

"Do you want to go get pizza or something? Ditch this?" He rasps in a softened tone.

"No, I kind of want to suck your cock," you mutter between breaths.

"What did you say?" His ears perk up, a smile spreading across his face.

"Nothing, I shouldn't have said that, sorry..." you dismiss.

"You definitely meant it." He folds his arms.

Fuck. You let your thoughts get the better of you yet again. How could you be so impulsive? He definitely heard it.

Yoongi examines your flustered state and finally decides to have mercy on you. "Cool. We can get pizza and then I'll let you put those pretty lips on me."

"Yeah?" You reply, sweetly.

"Yeah. Come on. I'm getting hard just thinking about it," he teases, twisting his pen between his fingers.

"I can call the delivery service instead it's-- not that expensive. What kind do you want?" You ask, absent-mindedly. Your heart pounds.

"... Chicago-Style," he says.

You tighten your legs beneath the kitchen table, trying to keep from meeting his stare again. You know that once you start spiraling, you won't be able to stop the flow of thoughts from spilling out your filthy mouth.

He takes notice, his breath heavy and his legs spread wide. He clicks his pen and sets it down on the table to admire your frustrated state. "I didn't know you were this horny," he says.

"I like straight-forward men," you reply.

"I can tell that. Do you want to make that call before I lose my self control?" He says, almost threateningly.

Your gaze lowers to his pants, a promising bulge now apparent beneath the cloth. It looks fat. You bite your lip subconsciously, a small "yeah~" escaping you.

Yoongi scoots out of his chair and approaches you. His hand scoops under your jaw and fixes your focus on him and the words he speaks.

"You're gonna listen to me. Get on the phone with them. I can tell you're an impatient slut, so you're gonna call them while I fuck you," he instructs. "That sound good?"

"Yes, Yoongi."

"That's a good girl, go ahead. I'm watching." He slips a hand down your body, caressing your waist. "Dial in."

With steady hands, you dial for the pizza delivery service, the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

It seems like the line is busy at the moment, which buys you time.

He guides you out of your chair, pulling you from the kitchen to the bedroom in a delicate fashion. He takes the phone from your hand and sets it down above your arm, against the mattress.

At this point, he pulls his shirt over his body and scrunches his nose. Yoongi pushes the hair out of his face and leans over you, instantly kissing and sucking at your delicate neck.

You roll your eyes back in relief, still rubbing your legs together in hopes of generating enough friction to satisfy yourself.

He catches your thighs in his hands and splits them apart instead, giving you a look of torture.

Your hands travel up his body, rubbing him in amazement and anticipation of him. He speaks a small moan, tugging down his pants to readjust himself.

He sits up and rolls his eyes, pulling himself out with a thick slap on to your stomach.

You whimper from the sight. He's pale and rose-colored with a small head, girthy and delicious.

"Ohh~ fuck!" You gasp, quietly.

-- "Hello, JD's pizza, how can I help you today?" A foreign voice breaks through.

You have to gather yourself quickly-- and by the looks of Yoongi's smirk, he's not gonna be a big help.

"Yes! I'd like to order a Chicago style pizza please!"

He makes a hushing gesture and climbs to the lower half of your body, splitting your thighs. Your eyes widen.

"And what size would you like that, ma'am?"

Just then, Yoongi licks a fat stripe up your pussy.

"Lhh...Large," you manage.

His fingers split your labia as he finds your clit and starts rubbing small, tight circles on it with the very tip of his hot tongue. His eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

"Great. Can I have a name and an address for that?" The unknowing voice continues.

You hold back a ripping moan in your throat as you say your address in full. "...and that's for Y/N," you sigh.

His tongue swipes down to your entrance and flicks at it teasingly before penetrating you just for fun. He brings his veiny hands up and plays with your clit between his fingers.

Your knit your eyebrows together, your arousal spilling into his mouth as he collects your pleasure. His other hand is on your thigh, kneading and working the skin until it bruises.

"Fuck,, yoongi,, fuckfuckfuck-- please--" you whine, in a desperate whisper.

He laughs silently, having the time of his life watching you suffer.

Yoongi spits out a mix of his own saliva and your arousal on your clit and then sucks it in, determined to have you cum from his mouth alone.

His eyes flood with need, causing you to buck up into his mouth with intensity. You ride it, biting your lip, hoping to God that your whimpers can't be picked up through the phone. "Shhhit--" you pant.

"Okay, gotcha..." the voice says. "That'll be 12.67 and the order should be there by 10:30 PM. Have a great night."

"You too!" You reply and immediately hang up, your orgasm surging through you. Moans erupt from you, your ringed fingers holding on to his scalp in euphoria.

Yoongi latches off you after gathering all of your cum in his mouth and from his fingertips. "Sweet," he smirks. "Now let's see how many times I can make you cream around my dick before that delivery guy comes."

a/n: don't judge me.

There is no way Min Yoong – beautiful, soft, with eyes like a stormy night and a smile a soft autumn morning – has never received a blow job. The thought makes your head spin and you lay backward on the roof of your childhood home, where you’re both catching up on summer break.

“We’re about to be seniors in college,” you accuse him, pressing a clammy hand to your heated forehead. “Yoongi - you fuck.”

He groans. “I know, but I don’t like asking for them to return the favorite.”

“So, you’re just out here going down on people with no reward?”

“I mean, I have sex.”

“I’m just. Wow. Never?”

Bo, your neighbor’s dog, starts barking, the only sound besides the crickets. Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek you recognize the look as mounting irritation.

“Shut up, Bo!” you holler, trying to diffuse the tension.

It doesn’t work.

Yoongi is not often irritated. He’s been your friend since high school – your what if for even longer – and you know everything about him. You know that he isolates himself when stressed, chewing his nails until they're red and you threaten him with princess band-aids. You know that sometimes when he thinks you’re not looking, he watches cat videos on his phone while you cook dinner. You know that Yoongi is selective about the people he sleeps with, preferring steady and consistent hookups to one-night stands.

So it absolutely baffles you that Min Yoongi – with his silky black hair tucked gently behind his ears, with his feline-sharp eyes, and his blush pout – has never gotten head. He is – god – he is stunning. You've always thought so. You know others do too. So how has his giving gotten in the way of receiving?

You admire him. He’s in an old flannel, a t-shirt and ripped jeans tonight. Something inside of you heats up. You lick your lips. Your throat feels dry.

Shoving thoughts of what his dick must feel like away, you focus on him. The way he won’t look at you, and the way he picks at his cuticles, his bottle of beer forgotten. His jaw jumps and he tongues the inside of his cheek again before wiping his palms on his knees.

“It was a stupid thing to admit,” he mumbles. “It’s late, I’m gonna head out.”

“Yoongi.”

He ignores the cashmere-soft way you say his name. He pushes himself off the piece of roof tucked under your bedroom window, dusting his jeans and flannel off. You call after him again, but he grabs his beer. Ducks inside of the window.

Flees.

He's embarrassed. You only hesitate for a moment before your foot is catching on the windowsill, sending you spilling onto the floor of your bedroom. Your beer is still out on the porch, humidity making it drip onto the dark tile.

“Are you okay?” he drifts back from your bedroom door. “Jesus, slow down.”

You’re a tangle of limbs and fussy apologies. You right yourself, managing to get to your knees. You blink up at him and your words pause. His brow is creased as he looks down at you. His face is still rosy from the beer and the embarrassment.

For a moment, Yoongi looks small. Not in size or stature, but shy. Tucked into himself. His fingers play with the end of his old flannel, and he’s chewing on the corner of his lip. He’s beautiful. It isn’t the first time you’ve thought it. It isn’t the last. But with you on your knees, looking up at him, everything else seems to drift away on the August breeze.

“Let me.” Your words barely carrying to him. His gaze darkens but he cocks his head to the side, unsure what you’re asking. You sink your weight onto the back of your calves, hands splayed on your thighs. “Let me show you.”

He scoffs. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“I don’t need my dick sucked out of pity.”

“I don’t pity you.”

He’s frowning, but you see a flicker on his eyes. It’s so quick that you’re not sure if you’re right. You squirm and lick your lips, looking up at him through rounded eyes and fluttering lashes. His foot slides back, a step toward the door.

“I want to,” you whisper. You don’t move an inch, terrified of chasing him away.

The words are true. Even before you became best friends in Mrs. Myers 10th grade literature class, you’d admired him from afar. He was always quiet. Not in a weird way, but in that way that Yoongi didn’t speak unless he felt like he had something to say.

When placed next to you in Mrs. Myers class, you paired together for a project on Dante’s Inferno. You’d discovered that he was a little warmer after time spent together, and he discovered you enjoyed dry humor. There were a few other things you had in common, but often, you found yourself sitting in the lunchroom with him.

Yoongi was easy. He didn’t make you question where you stood with him. You had always harbored a soft crush, but that took a backseat to friendship. It had worn away with time. He saw other people and so did you. You enjoyed things together, but never like that.

You didn’t resent the partners who stole bits of Yoongi’s time. But you did resent the fact that they never once thought about him. Never once considered that they should return the favor.

“You don’t want to,” he scoffed. But it was half-hearted and unsure, upturned at the end like a question. “Why?”

“You’re beautiful.” He flushes red and tucks his chin against his chest, letting his hair hide is face. “I’ve always wondered.”

“Wondered what?”

“What it would be like to touch you. To taste you.”

His head tilts toward the ceiling. “Fuck. You’re serious?”

“Please. Unless you don’t want me to.”

Yoongi relents. “I do...”

“Let me. Please.”

He moves toward the bed slowly, as though any sudden movement will chase you away. You crawl toward him, eyes only for him. Your stomach flips as you settle on your knees in front of him. They're a little sore from baring your weight, but you ignore it, quick breaths fanning between your lips.

Your eyes drop to his jeans. They're light wash and well-fitted. Dragging your eyes back up, you look at him. He props himself up, leaning backward with his palms spread on your bed. He looks down at you, somewhere between frightened and something... darker.

“Can I touch you?” you whisper, squirming back and forth on your knees. He nods, catching his bottom lip with his teeth.

Gently, you put your palms on his knees. He jumps a little but settles. His eyes don’t leave you as you brush your hands up and down his thighs, applying a little pressure in the tips of your fingers to massage the muscle through the thick material.

He sighs, almost inaudible. His fingers tighten in your sheets a little, spurring you further. You lift yourself between his legs, extending as high as you can on your knees as you squeeze his thighs. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

You huff. “I want to kiss you.”

Yoongi must hear how deadly serious you are. He surges forward with a new-found confidence, nearly knocking you over as he steals your mouth with his. His hands catch you, cradling your face as his fingers press bruise-hard into your jaw, desperate to keep your lips against his.

Everything is white noise. You no longer hear the chirping crickets outside of your window. You don’t hear the neighbor's dog barking anymore. It's just Yoongi and the warm taste of his honey-wheat beer. His lips are petal soft, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

You dig your nails into his thighs, drawing a deep whine from the back of his throat. It sends you into a frenzy, licking into his mouth. His tongue eagerly meets yours, hands moving to the sides of your neck, holding you in place and oh that feels good when he squeezes a little, reasserting some level of dominance.

Sucking on his tongue, you break away for a moment, a single glossy line of spit connecting your lips. Your eyes open just a bit to find him heaving, flushed, and lips red. He opens his eyes and it's like he has no irises, pupils blown out and starving.

Has this hunger inside you always been so severe?

Yes, you think as you connect your mouths eagerly once more. Always.

Brave hands drift to Yoongi’s semi-hard cock. You grip him firmly through his jeans, drawing succulent sounds from his mouth. You moan too, spurred on by the noises he makes for you. Your heart is pounding as you stroke him through the fabric, gasping between kisses turned messy with tongues and spit.

“Please,” he begs between a kiss.

You don’t hesitate. You pull the zipper of his pants. He lifts his hips for you, leaning back again on two hands. He's hard now, straining against stark briefs. Your mouth water, zeroing in on the size of him just through his boxers.

“Fuck, maybe that’s why no one returned the favor.”

“Huh?”

You realize you’ve spoken your fear aloud. You look up at him. Your face is burning and you’re so giddy with excitement laced with anxiety that you might pass out. “Um, your cock is sort of huge.”

He arches a brow. “You asked for it.” Your nails dig into his exposed thigh and he squirms. “Fuck, okay. Thanks for the compliment, I guess. Yeah, I’ve had someone tell me a time or two they didn’t want to try.”

“Fuck them,” you growl. “I’ll take care of you.”

You lean up again, hands playing with the elastic band of his briefs. Your tongue darts out to kitten-lick the dark spot forming on his briefs. He gasps, hips twitching at the contact. Your mouth continues to explore newly exposed skin. You bite his inner thighs, thicker than you remember them being. You suck marks on his hips, pulling his t-shirt up a bit to give you access to smooth skin.

“Off,” you mumble, pulling the elastic after a single kiss to his tip. “Wanna see you.”

Once again, he lifts his hips. You pull on the briefs, swiftly discarding them. Your eyes drink him in. Long and thick – your fingers definitely won’t touch when you grip him – pretty, flushed tip leaking pearly beads of precum.

Larger than you’ve had in your mouth. But you’re willing to take on the challenge for Yoongi. Anything for Yoongi.

“Fuck,” you whisper, kissing his knee absently. “You’re so fucking pretty, Yoongs.”

“Shut up.”

You smile and bat your lashes at him. You grip him at the base, skin velvety under your touch. You give a slow experimental stroke and his head falls backward, eyes shut. “I mean it,” you whisper. You gather spit in your mouth, leaning up and tilting the head of his cock toward your lips. You let the spit dribble out, dripping down his head onto the shaft. He curses. “So fucking pretty.”

Using the mixture of spit and cum, you pump your hand slowly up and down his shaft, watching with rapt attention as he reacts. He shudders under your hands, Adam’s apple bobbing, throat pink.  His eyes are closed, head tilted back, fingers white knuckling the sheets.

Tentatively, you lean down and flick your tongue under the crown of his cock. He moans loudly then, lips parting in a rush of air. He is a work of art. Soft planes, swaths of pink, silken at the edges. You take the tip in your mouth, suckling and running your tongue slowly around the head, drawing more noises out of him.

“Fuck, I am not going to last.”

You remove your mouth with a pop. You kiss the tip and grip him at the base, tracing the underside of his shaft with your tongue, greedily licking at the in there. His hips buck again. You don’t care as you lap him tip to base, taking a moment to stroke him with your hand while you lick at his balls.

“Baby,” he growls. A warning.

The new nickname softens you. You don’t want to ruin the experience by making him cum from teasing. It's about him, as much as you want to see him pant.

“Sorry,” you murmur, kissing a thigh. “I like the sounds you make.”

“Don’t be sorry. Feels good.”

You hum, pleased.

Settling, you take him into your mouth properly. You moan in the back of your throat, the salty sweet taste intoxicating. Yoongi is difficult to fit in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks and flatten your tongue, slowly bobbing your head, taking more in the warmth of your mouth each time you descend.

What you can’t fit in your mouth, you make up for in a steady grip with your hand, pumping and twisting. Yoongi is immediately affected, whining and cursing softly. He can’t stop squirming, a hand shooting to the back of your head, fingers pressing desperately to your skull. He doesn’t force you, just grips, hanging onto you for year life.

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice rumbling in his chest. “So fucking good, please don’t stop.”

You wouldn’t dream of stopping.

You're messy, sucking him with vigor. Drool leaks out the side of your mouth, dripping down his hard shaft. You alternate from bobbing your head up and down, sucking generously. You come up to release him with a pop, licking hungrily around the tip and down his cock to catch a breath.

Yoongi gets more and more worked up. His fingers press against your scalp and he’s rambling. You want to see him fall apart. He deserves it. Sweet Yoongi who has always done his part with his partners. Caring Yoongi who held your hand when you suffered breakups.

Taking a breath through your nose and digging your nails into his thigh, you take him all the way into your throat, swallowing around him. Your eyes smart as you choke for a second. He makes a panicked noise, but you pin him down, claws to thigh, breathing through your nose as you let up a little, coming up to pop.

Drool dribbles down your chin with a mix of cum. You stroke him quicker, looking up at him as you blink tears out of your eyes. He's so fucked out you can’t help but rub your thighs together. Yoongi is beautiful and blushing and messy.

Your Yoongi.

“I can handle it,” you promise, tongue experimentally flicking his slit. “Don’t worry. Let me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhmm.”

Yoongi watches you, hypnotized as you do it again, deep throating him in one motion. The choked noises are delicious, accompanied with the soft bass of Yoongi’s deep moans and the staccato of his breathing.

His cock twitches in your mouth. Your hand ventures from his base to his balls, fondling gently, reverently.

“I’m gonna-”

Yoongi chokes himself as he falls backward on the bed. You feel him go taught like a bowstring, coming up just slightly as he cums down your throat. His noises are light and gasping, stroking your ego as you suck him through his orgasm.

His thighs are twitching and the hand in your hair goes slack. Yoongi turns boneless as you swallow the saltiness of him, lifting your mouth. Spit and cum gloss over your chin and lips, a sinful sheen. He is panting, his hand shooting to your hair again, grabbing onto you and pulling you up from sore knees.

“Come here,” he growls.

You're pulled on top of him, knocking limbs and numb knees. He crashes your mouth to his, licking at you, devouring your lips, tongue, and the slick between. His hands squeeze your hips, his nose brushes yours.

“What the fuck was that?” You yelled in a panic as you sat in the front seat of a random drug dealer’s BMW. Yoongi was driving at an alarming speed, trying to put as much distance between himself and the house as possible, not wanting to know what would happen if Zeke knew where he lived.  

“What, did you want me to leave you in the house where you had zero free will?” Yoongi kept checking his rearview mirrors and taking weird back alley’s you hadn’t even known existed. You were both yelling now, hearts racing as you both filled with anxiety.  

“He’s going to kill you, man, I was fine-” 

“If I would’ve left you there, he would’ve killed you.” You went dead silent, and as did the car as you couldn’t think of any response to that. “At least I know I can defend myself. You’ve been paralyzed by fear for so long you have no idea how to.”  

You slouched back into your seat and crossed your arms, your brow furrowed as you tried to think of any defense for yourself, but all you could come up with was Zeke wouldn't kill me, which you weren’t even sure you could say out loud without breaking down.  

You both stayed silent for the rest of the drive. He eventually came to a stop outside of what you presumed to be his home. You both got out of the car wordlessly and walked into the decently sized home, Yoongi pulling his phone out of his pocket as soon as he walked in the door.  

“Just uh, make yourself comfortable,” he gestured to the sofa in his shockingly nice and cohesive living room, his eyes never leaving his phone as you closed the door behind you quietly. “I have a few phone calls to make.”  

With that, he walked back the hall and into a room, closing the door loudly. You jumped slightly, holding your hand to your chest before you took a deep breath and sat down, crossing your legs and folding your hands in your lap. You remained silent and stared at your hands, not wanting to move or make a sound, still terrified of your current situation.  

Yoongi’s house was very different to the one’s you were used to living in. It was very clean and organized, the living room almost looked sterile if it weren’t for the plants and warn-in leather chair sat next to the seemingly untouched couch. Everything was in black, white and grey, the white carpeting not even so much as tinged yellow; everything was pristine.  

And it was quiet.  

Way more quiet than you had been comfortable with. You could hear the air conditioning kick on from the central unit, and the refrigerator hum from the other room, but that was it. You couldn’t hear Yoongi talking on the phone; nor did you hear a television or any music playing. No one was yelling, no one was crying. It was as if the house was in a reality completely different than you were used to. But it wasn’t. He barely lived 30 minutes away from where you had, and yet, it seemed like a completely different world.  

But because you had taken notice of the small mundane sounds that most wouldn’t pay any attention to, you noticed the sound of quiet footsteps. You had no idea where they were coming from, that’s how soft their sound was; you really couldn’t even tell if they were in the house or not.  

Then you heard the unmistakable clicking sound of a gun cocking, and you froze. Seconds later, a bullet came through the lock on the front door’s doorknob, and it was being kicked in. You dove behind the couch as the door previously slammed shut by Yoongi was slammed back open. The man standing face-to-face, or rather, gun-to-gun with Yoongi wasn’t someone you had recognized as being one of Zeke’s friends.  

Yoongi didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger of his gun, unloading the round into the man's forehead before he could even fully realize that Yoongi was there. He dropped, the gun falling from his hand as his body thudded and blood began to pour from him. The once pristine and stainless white carpet was no more as it soaked up the deep red of the blood being spilled onto it, spreading it around his head almost as if it were some fucked up halo.  

“Who the fuck was that?” You had been so entranced with the corpse that you didn’t notice Yoongi check the rest of his house before he crouched down beside you. You jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, and then again when you saw the gun still in his hand, pointed down into the floor.  

“I don’t know, I don’t recognize him,” you shook your head lightly, your voice low and emotionless as you looked back over at the body, eyebrows knit in confusion. “I’m sorry he ruined your pretty carpet,” Yoongi’s eyes followed your gaze and landed on the red halo surrounding him, growing bigger by the second. He sighed, looking around the room once again, thinking, before he shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans and stood.  

“Alright, crazy. We gotta go, I’m sure Hoseok would want to see you anyway,” you nodded slowly and stood, shaking your head out of the trance you were in as you turned to follow him. He walked you into the garage and had you sit in a different car than the one he had picked you up in and told you to wait again while he cleaned up a little.  

He only took another 15 minutes before he was back, sitting in the driver's seat beside you. He pulled out of the driveway and started driving away at a much more normal speed than before.  

Another hour passed silently in the car, no music playing, neither of you speaking as you made your way to somewhere, the destination you weren’t quite sure on, but you didn’t want to ask questions to the man who just killed someone in front of you.  

You pulled up to what looked like an old, abandoned warehouse. You followed Yoongi out of the car and to a side door on the building that led down into a basement. You, very reluctantly, made your way down the steps behind him into a surprisingly well-lit basement.  

Once you got down there, however, it was no longer surprising as to why the lighting was good.

A basement that spanned what you could only assume was the size of the warehouse itself was completely filled, row after row, with pot plants. You stood in awe, mouth slightly hung ajar as you looked at what you could only assume to be 20-years-in-the-state-prison amounts of weed, as Yoongi took a few smaller steps forward into the maze.  

“Hoba? You down here?” Yoongi yelled as he slid his hands into his pockets, his steps coming to a halt as he realized walking in any direction will surely lead him the wrong way.  

“Over here, Hyung!” You could hear Hoseok’s usually chipper voice yelling from the distance. Yoongi looked back at you and nodded his head in the direction of Hoseok’s voice, beckoning you to follow him.  

Hoseok was all smiles when he saw Yoongi, excited to see if anything had happened with you, but his smile immediately fell when you came into view.  

“Hyung, what is she doing here?” Hoseok’s anxiety wasn’t agreeing with him as he knew nothing good could have come from you being here, with Yoongi, and without Zeke. A warm smile took over your face as you saw him, which managed to help calm his worries only slightly, a small and equally warm smile adorning his lips to greet yours.  

“You told me the guy was an asshole, I instead saw a psychopath,” Yoongi shrugged as he took a seat at the large table up against the wall of the warehouse.  

“So you took her?” Hoseok’s voice was rushed and the volume was low as to try to avoid upsetting you. You pretended not to hear anything, not wanting to make the situation any more uncomfortable. You looked around, still completely in awe of the impressive garden going on down here. You took a few steps forward, walking through a few rows of plants, looking at each one carefully. You had always had a love for plants, but a complete inability to keep them alive, so seeing this many flourishing made you happy.  

You know, even if they were drugs.  

“Hello,” You turned abruptly at the soft voice from behind you, startled as you hadn’t heard anyone walk up to you. His bright smile only grew larger as you jumped, he raised his hands and chuckled at you lightly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you.”  

The undeniably gorgeous man lowered his hands and took a few more steps toward you. He wore what looked like an oversized Hawaiian shirt and a very baggy pair of khaki dress pants. His hair was dark and fluffy, nearly covering his squinted bloodshot eyes, and as you looked down, you realized the reason you couldn’t hear him walking.  

He was barefoot.  

“I’m Taehyung, you wanna come see my favorite plant?” The smile never seemed to leave his face as he cocked his head to the side, not at all caring who you were or why you were there; simply wanting to show you his favorite plant friend. You nodded slowly, a small smile creeping up to your face as you realized just how ridiculous this guy seemed. He softly grabbed your hand and led you toward the back of the building.  

He pulled you into a small room that looked to be what would have been an office, but was actually just a room with several haphazard rugs laying all over the floor with ten or so beanbag chairs scattered around the floor.  

He let go of your hand once you were in the room, and swiftly walked over to a small table in the corner, picked something up and turned around. In his hand was the smallest pot you’d ever seen, and in it was the smallest ball cactus.  

“Her name is Fluffy. Isn’t she just the coolest thing you’ve ever seen?”  

Let’s be honest here, if you’d ever seen this tiny cactus at a plant store, you’d probably think it was cute, but you wouldn’t give it a second though, really. But presented with it here, by a man who had been for some reason so excited to show it to you, it seemed to in fact be the coolest thing you’d ever seen.  

You smiled and took a few steps closer to him, looking at Fluffy with wide eyes and a kind smile as you nodded, excited about the existence of something so small and pure, covering itself with needles to defend itself from anyone from hurting her small and fragile interior. Taehyung handed you the plant before moving two of the beanbags to be next to each other, inviting you to sit in one as he plopped down in the other.  

You sat down facing him, your knees almost pressed to your chest at how deflated the chair was as you set the plant down in between the two of you, you both admiring it.  

“I’ve never been much of a plant person aside from my business, but when I went to go get some more fertilizer I just saw her sitting there on a shelf, looking all lonely, so I just had to get her.” Taehung was slouched back in his seat, legs spread wide but eyes still lovingly trained on the small plant he seemed so happy to have obtained. You simply smiled and nodded, being comfortable with the silence as you felt something rub against your side.  

You jumped away slightly, looking back to see a very small, white cat with light green eyes. She rubbed against you again, this time your arm, and crawled into your lap, forcing you to cross your legs so she could lay down comfortably. You had no problem petting the soft white fur as she purred madly, moving your hands to rub her cheeks the way she liked.  

“Oh yeah,” You looked up at Taehyung, who was now looking fondly at the cat that decorated your lap. “That’s Ms. Prickly. She's not very fond of Fluffy,” You smiled wider as you continued to pet the cat.  

The door opened abruptly, scaring Ms. Prickly from your lap as Yoongi and Hoseok burst through the door, faces full of worry.  

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Taehyung was not very good at reading the expressions of others, or maybe he just didn’t care to let the emotions of others dampen his good mood as he smiled brightly at the two previously worried, and now annoyed men. Obviously used to this kind of behavior, neither of the boys said anything in complaint, just simply closed the door and pulled up some bean bags of their own.  

“I see you’ve met Fluffy,” Hoseok smiles as he sits down next to you, pulling you into a tight hug which you gratefully accepted. “I’m glad you’re safe,” He whispered, rubbing your back soothingly before pulling away from the hug, his eyes warm and his smile reassuring.  

“Yeah, we’re just chilling. She also met Ms. Prickly.”  

Yoongi scoffed as he sat down on the other side of you, the four of you now forming a circle in the middle of this room, all surrounding the world's smallest cactus. The energy in the room grew very tense as you wished to keep your full attention on the small plant but knew you had more important things to worry about.  

“Y/n, do you know who Zeke’s family is?” Hoseok asked gently. You looked at him, bringing your knees back up to your chest before shaking your head.  

“I’ve met some of them, but only once or twice, and never really got to know anyone. He never really liked to talk about them, so I didn’t push it.” Hoseok hung his head, sighing as he ran his fingers through his hair before he brought his face back up to look at you.  

“When I used to hang out with him, he’d never shut up about them. Probably as his own fucked up way of proving he was someone. His uncle, and that whole part of the family are Hitmen. I always just kind of thought he was fucking around, trying to intimidate me, but considering what just happened-” 

“Who’s Zeke?” Taehyung was suddenly sitting upright, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at Hoseok. 

“Zeke’s my boyfriend.” You pulled Taehyung’s attention away from Hoseok, and brought it to you. His eyes softened as he looked at you – really looked at you – for the first time. He looked back at Hoseok, and then at Yoongi, and back at you, and no further explanation was needed for him. He looked back at Hoseok and nodded, asking for him to continue.  

“So, now it looks like Yoongi has hitmen after him; but because he was able to take the first guy down so easily, we need to get you hidden-”  

“Why?” They all turned to look at you, eyes wide and shock ripping all the words from their throats. “If I just go back, he’ll leave you guys alone,”  

“Sweetie,” Hoseok’s eyes softened and his posture loosened as he reached a hand out to grab yours, but you flinched away from his touch.  

“Hoseok,” He looked over at Taehyung, “Sidebar?” Hoseok looked back at you apologetically before he and Taehyung stood and walked over to the corner of the room, Ms. Prickly weaving between Taehyungs legs as he walked.  

“Y/n,” You turned your attention to Yoongi, who had now turned himself to face you completely. “We’re not going to let you go back there, you understand that right?” You furrowed your brow again, thinking you’d already settled this matter.  

“Why not? They’re going to hurt you,” Your voice was dripping with concern, small and weak, cracking under the pressure of any more lives falling to your hands.  

“We know some people. We’ll be fine, but there’s no way I’m letting you go back there, and neither is Hoseok.”  

You didn’t know how to feel. You weren’t typically an anxious person, even when your were with Zeke it was manageable because you knew what to expect; but here? With these people and hitmen? You had no idea what to expect, but they were nice enough to try to help you. You couldn’t let them get hurt if all you had to do was go back.  

You looked over to the corner of the room Hoseok and Taehyung were in to see them both standing beside a large locker Taehyung was unlocking. After opening the cabinet, Taehyung started pulling out guns and money and started shoving them into duffle bags with the help of Hoseok.  

“C’mon, cupcake,” Taehyung smiled at you as he held his hand out for you to take to help you stand; but even after you stood, he didn’t let go. “We’re going to go see Jin Hung.”