sylus enjoyer

Regardless, Caleb knew Xavier was the type to listen to you through the floorboards of his upstairs apartment. He was a lot alike Caleb in that sort of manner. They were both possessive freaks who couldn’t stand the thought of you being with somebody else.

That’s why Caleb was fucking you so hard — pounding your pretty pussy so deeply into the mattress that you were seeing stars with each mean thrust.

He used his size to his advantage. It was fitting. He’d always loved how much bigger he was than you. That’s how you received your adorned nickname: pipsqueak.

He planned on his first time with you being a lot more gentle than this. He planned on being sweet and loving. He planned on cherishing your body the way you deserve, but you just had to go and give yourself to 4 other guys before him.

“Stop crying.” His voice rumbled as his piercing gaze found yours — so much different than the sweet childhood friend you had. His hand covered your mouth as he hunched over your figure, still ramming his cock head into you ruthlessly. “I know you can take it. I’ve watched you take it before.”

Your eyes blinked back tears as you looked up at him. He was being so mean. You couldn’t believe this was the same doting Caleb that you grew up with, and you didn’t even want to think about the face he had been watching you…

“Fucking pussy’s made for me, and you’ve been letting other men try to make her feel good.” He growled as he used his less-than-human arm reach down and gently rub against your small button of nerves.

“Caleb-!” You choked out as your body writhed beneath him. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock splitting you apart, making you wholly his and his alone.

“That’s right… Say my name, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel so good.” He prompted with a confident smirk before he hauled your legs up above his shoulders, sinking even deeper into your dripping cunt.

Clawing at the bed, your back arched as you tried to cope with the intrusion. He’s so fucking deep it feels like you’re going to choke on him. “Caleb-“ You sob as your cunt pitifully clenches around him.

Feeling you wrapped around him so sweetly, crying out his name as you’re so overwhelmed with pleasure has Caleb revitalized with a new vigor. His hips work in tight circles, pumping his fat cock in and out of you as your cunt makes the most obscene squelching noises he’s ever heard.

“Such a fucking noisy girl. I should’ve know you were going to be a crybaby.” He teased before placing open mouth kisses along your neck snd shoulder.

“W-wait Caleb- calebcalebcaleb. I’m gonna..” You pant out nervously as his metal fingers were still rubbing languid circled around your cunt, and his tip was smooshing globs of precum against your cervix.

His fingers suddenly pinch down on your clit, making you cry out from the sensation. Your body went taut as you were being dangled on the edge of pleasure. His robotic arm wasn’t quite letting you get there.

You thought his arm was literally malfunctioning until you heard him chuckle from your suffering.

“You’re going to cum when I saw you can, okay baby?” He asked in that same condescending tone he always used when you two were younger.

His hips continued to roll after he was sure that you weren’t going to fall off the deep end, and he let out deep guttural groans, feeling your pretty pussy soak him. It was like you were practically trying to suck him in. He couldn’t believe he had waited this long to sink into your cunt like this.

and the best part about it was he knew your stupid upstairs neighbor was listening! Xavier knew you were down here getting railed, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Hell, if he even tried, Caleb would use his evol and force him kneel beside the bed as he drilled you even harder.

Fuck, the thought of slutting you out in front of every single one of your little boyfriends had his stomach tightening. His hips snapped forward into you with a pace that could only be described as feral.

You were a complete babbling mess at this point — utterly cock drunk as Caleb had you folded in half, filling you up to the brim with his length.

“Ohhh, that’s my girl.” He purred as he saw your glossed over look. “It’s coming, baby. I’m going to give you want you need.” He promised as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that completely contradicted the ruthless way his hips were rutting into you.

“C-caleb- Caleb no, wait.. Don’t cum inside-“ You stuttered out in a panic. You hadn’t been by the pharmacy yet to pick up birth control, so technically, this was all unprotected.

“Why?” He growled as his back curled over. He was fucking mounting you while holding your thighs in the prettiest mating press he’d ever seen. “You fucking let them fill you up. Am I not good enough to breed this pussy?”

His hips slammed into you. It felt like he was trying to push his way straight into your womb. It was mind-numbing pleasure, making black orbs and stars dance across your vision.

“Look at me, baby.” He ordered, dragging your face to look back up at him. You could barely see straight. It was all too much. “You’re going to let your best friend breed you, and you’re gonna fucking love it. You’re going to cum all over this fat cock until you can’t breathe. Understand?”

You dumbly nodded your head, halfway hearing his words. Your pussy was aching to cum. Your swollen puffy folds were greedily accepting him in with every thrust. You wanted this. Birth control be damned. Everyone else be damned.

Caleb gritted his teeth together as he gave you a few more good harsh thrusts for good measure. He then crushed his body against yours, burying himself all the way to your womb before his cock started to jerk and pulse inside of you, shooting rope after rope of his thick potent cum. The only thing on his mind was the need to see you, his childhood best friend, round with his baby.

He needed to see the look on each other of those pricks’ faces when they realized you were spoken for.

The cherry on top was when he felt your walls clenching around him, happily milking his cock for everything he had while you sobbed and hiccuped his name. It seemed like his childhood best friend was maybe just as twisted as he was. He’d have to give her an extra good reward for being such a good girl.

you actually went to high school together, but hung out with different crowds, never interacting but aware of each other’s existence. you remember him as always being energetic and humorous, constantly making people around him laugh. you’d pass each other in the hallways, no more than a single glance in the other’s direction.

but then a few years ago, at the beginning of one fall semester, you wound up in the same history class. when you saw him standing at the entrance, you recognized him right away, even from across the giant lecture hall. you’d never forget a face that was synonymous with brightening up someone’s day.

you thought it was a weird coincidence that you ended up at the same university, but didn’t think too far into it. besides, you never talked to him, you doubted he recalled who you were and there were too many faces in the room for him to single you out.

you busied yourself with your phone until the professor arrived, scrolling aimlessly through social media to pass some time.

“is this seat taken?”

you jump in your seat a bit, startled by the voice. you didn’t even have to see who it was to know that it was beomgyu. instead of answering, you just shake your head. he smiles to himself and takes off his bag, settling in next to you. you will yourself to not look over at him and keep focusing on your phone.

the professor arrives shortly after. (you’re extremely grateful.)

when class is over and you’re walking out of the lecture hall, you find seojun, the guy you’re talking to at the time, waiting for you. he’s holding the strap of his backpack with one hand and waving with the other. you reciprocate the action and let him lead you to the quad.

(you ignore the subtle flicker of your eyes over your shoulder to see which direction beomgyu went in.)

the next time, when your history class meets, beomgyu starts a conversation with you before the professor arrives.

“you remember me, don’t you? from hybe?” he asks, ruffling his shaggy hair. the question catches you off guard because, yes, of course you do.

“y-yeah. choi beomgyu, right?” you say in response, so close to giving into the urge to punch yourself square in the jaw for stuttering. his signature smile appears as he nods.

“the one and only.”

oh how you wished he knew how true that statement was.

again, the professor saves you from an awkward situation once more. (and you’re just as thankful as the previous time.)

seojun is waiting for you when class ends, but right as the two of you are about to walk off, you hear your name. you turn to see beomgyu with his bag hanging off of one shoulder. he grins at you. “see you next week.”

(you don’t realize that you’re grinning back.)

after that day, things went smoother and smoother. chatting with him while you waited for the professor and as you left the lecture hall became natural. he would bring up things you’d mentioned a while back or he’d give you a small compliment and you’d feel this sort of churning in your stomach that you couldn’t explain. your friendship had grown exponentially since the first class.

you missed a session once, the week before halloween, for a doctors appointment. when you arrived at the next one, he was already in his seat. he smiled up at you as soon as you began walking down the row.

“hey, welcome back! how was it? no life altering diseases or anything?” beomgyu jokes, resting his cheek on his palm.

(you also ignore the way your heart flutters at the fact that he remembered what you told him about why you wouldn’t be there.)

“hey! nope, i’m all good. do you think i can borrow your notes from tuesday?” you ask when you sit down, pulling out your laptop among other things.

“yeah, for sure. just remind me after this, i’ll give you my notebook.” he answers.

the lecture goes by pretty fast, like it usually does. you’re packing up all of your stuff, pausing at the memory of your earlier conversation. you whip your head around, watching beomgyu already about to leave the room. you rush to get your belongings together and run to catch up to him.

you call his name slightly out of breath. he stops in his tracks and he furrows his brows. you make some sort of hand motion signalling notes that he apparently understands because he gasps, taking off his backpack. he tosses you the notebook with a smile.

“wait! gyu,” you say as he’s getting ready to walk away again. you’re not sure how good of an idea this is, but the words escape your mouth without warning. “uh— my— uh— my friends are throwing a halloween party this weekend. it’d be— uh— cool to see you there.”

“my friends were talking about it actually,” he grins. “so maybe you will.”

and with that, he goes off to wherever it is he goes.

you stare at yourself in the mirror, taking in your appearance. maybe it was a bit much. you went last minute shopping and the pieces to put together a playboy bunny costume were what you came home with. you looked hot, but it felt like you were overdoing it. seojun wasn’t going to the party since he was your senior, and most of the attendees were your age. you didn’t know what the chances beomgyu was going were either.

“stop looking at yourself like you just killed someone’s childhood pet. you look so good.” your friend kyeong pouts, coming up behind you to force your lips into a smile. “c’mon, let’s see if dawon is ready so we can take pictures before we leave.”

when said friend was finally done with her hair, the three of you took some photos in the bathroom. kyeong dressed up as a cute scarecrow and dawon was a victoria’s secret angel, just a bit more covered up. the latter of which was co-hosting the party. it was being thrown at sim jake’s house, the other host. sim jake was best friends with park sunghoon, park jay and lee heeseung. lee heeseung happened to also be friends with one choi beomgyu, the reason he found out about the party before you told him. (you, too, were friends with heeseung and co. but that was irrelevant.)

the party hadn’t yet started when the three of you pulled up to jake’s house. last minute preparations were being made, like decorations and setting up the drinks. you and kyeong had been tasked with putting all the jell-o shots in a cooler, taking one together as you finish up.

your drinking began prior to anyone showing up, so by the time the party was in full swing, you were already tipsy. you were having a great time, to say the least. you danced with your friends, took shots with people you knew but didn’t really talk to, you even soaked up all the compliments you received on your costume with a new found confidence.

you were spinning around your friend seonmi from your introduction to dance class, making her giggle at how absolutely gone you looked right now. your bunny ears were lopsided and your cheeks were flushed from all the alcohol in your system, but you had the biggest smile on your face as you danced. this was the most free anyone had seen you in weeks.

you’re getting ready to orbit around seonmi again, when you see him walking in with his friends. you have no idea what choi beomgyu’s costume is supposed to be, nor do you pay any mind to soobin and yeonjun beside him. but you are suddenly very aware of the amount of skin you were showing, the thin, tight dress and fishnet stockings leaving hardly any room for the imagination.

you chug the rest of your drink for liquid courage, handing the empty cup to seonmi without a word. your feet carry you towards the new arrivals, wiping your clammy palms on the side of your thighs. beomgyu notices you right away, his eyes raking over your appearance and his lips curling into their signature grin. it was different seeing you like this.

“you made it!” you exclaim over the blaring music, fixing the ears on your head.

“yeah, i couldn’t exactly let you down after you begged me to come.” he jokes. you gasp, poking him in the chest playfully.

“you’re so annoying.” you pout, crossing your arms. his gaze travels down for a second before meeting yours just as quickly.

“i came all this way just to be slandered? you wound me.” he sighs exaggeratedly. you laugh at him for a moment before getting an idea.

“let’s take a picture together! there’s a good chance i won’t remember anything from tonight.”

he nods and stands behind you as you open the camera, positioning your phone high enough to capture you both. after the photo is taken, you chat for a bit more and then he goes off to find soobin and yeonjun. you return to seonmi, who has a raised eyebrow and a refilled drink for you. you just blow a kiss at her, accepting your cup graciously.

she excuses herself to use the bathroom and you’re alone for the first time all night. you sip at your drink leisurely, swaying slightly to whatever song was playing. you feel a presence next to you and turn your head to see who it is.

“i didn’t know you were friends with beomgyu,” heeseung says, bringing the brim of his own red solo cup up to his mouth. “that’s surprising.”

“most people don’t expect me to be friends with dawon, kyeong or y’all either, but look at me.” you snort, elbowing his side lightly. “i actually went to high school with him.”

“hmm, interesting.”

about another couple hours later, and your brain is hardly functioning. you’re practically moving on auto pilot with how hammered you are at this point. seonmi complains that she needs to use the bathroom again, but the main one is occupied, so you (try to) help her up the stairs. you go in with her since you kind of had to go too.

as you’re washing your hands, there’s a knock on the door and because you’re done, seonmi opens it. beomgyu stands in the hall, his hair a little disheveled and eyelids heavy from intoxication.

“hey, we’re leaving so i thought i’d come say bye.” he blinks, his words slurred together.

“you can’t stay a little longer?” you frown, taking a step closer to him. he licks his lips.

“i wish i could, but the guys were my ride so i have to go with them,” he responds. “i’ll see you in class?”

“mhm.” you smile, closing your eyes and leaning forward. without thinking, you kiss him. it’s a small peck that leaves you completely dazed even after he’s left, tingles coursing throughout your body. seonmi has a hand over her mouth in slight shock over the scene.

“did you just—”

“yeah..”

“but what about—”

“i don’t care.”

in your inebriated state, you honestly didn’t. seojun wasn’t what you were looking for. he had his moments, but it seemed like recently all he wanted from you was your innocence. every opportunity he got to be alone with you, he’d gotten touchier. you figured he was jealous of beomgyu, especially because you’d grown closer to him. and of course, you knew deep down you could never be just friends with him. you’d always want more. you’d always wonder ‘what if’.

later that night, in the comfort of dawon’s bed, you’re still wide awake, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. you hesitantly type in heeseung’s instagram handle and search through his profile for the tagged account you were sure you’d find. it doesn’t take long for you to see it and follow, direct messaging him right away.

[02:47] you: hi :)

[02:48] beom13gyu: omg how’d you find my acc LMFAOOAOAO

[02:48] beom13gyu: did you stalk me 🤔

[02:48] you: STOP no you were tagged on hee’s account 😞

[02:49] you: sorry that i wanted to talk to you 💔

[02:49] beom13gyu: NOOOO im just messing w you

[02:49] beom13gyu: im glad you messaged me :)

[02:50] you: you are? 😞

[02:50] beom13gyu: of course!

[02:50] beom13gyu: you do know i’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of the semester right??

you sit up quickly with eyes resembling saucers. choi beomgyu liked you? he like liked you??

sure, he happened to remember the tiniest details about you that no one else remembered. and yeah he’d ask you if he could walk with you after class on days seojun couldn’t. maybe every once and a while he’d stare as subtly as possible during lectures, the end of his pen between his teeth. but did all of that really mean that he was into you?

the next couple of days before you have class together, it seems like you can’t put your phone down. the two of you keep messaging back and forth, even exchanging phone numbers at one point so you can facetime one another. it was nice, though. the emotions you had been suppressing were rising to the surface with every text.

“did you wanna talk about saturday?” beomgyu asks you the moment your lecture is finished and you’re packing up your belongings that tuesday.

you swallow the lump in your throat. the longer you pretended nothing was happening, the more you were gonna hurt both yourself and him. you also needed to end things with seojun as soon as you could, because even if you didn’t have romantic feelings for him anymore, you weren’t an asshole.

“yeah. we kinda have to, huh?” you nervously chuckle, brushing away a stray hair. he gives you a soft smile, one that’s different from the usual playful grin that adorned his lips. it’s reassuring, oddly enough.

you hug your notebook and laptop to your chest, walking beside him to exit the lecture hall. your brows are furrowed when you see seojun waiting for you, an unreadable expression on his face. he told you he wouldn’t be able to meet up today because he had to run some errands, so seeing him right there confuses you. you turn to beomgyu.

“give me a second, i just have to take care of this real quick.”

he nods, moving out of the traffic in the building and opting to stand next to the door of your class. your grip on your things tightens, your nerves bubbling inside of your stomach. it was now or never, and you really needed it to be now.

“what are you doing here?” you tap the edge of your nail against your laptop.

“what are we doing here? this isn’t going anywhere and we both know it. as much as it kills me to admit it, you’ve been happier lately and i know it’s not because of me,” seojun sighs, running a hand through his hair. “i notice the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. like he’d do whatever you ask. and you— you’re different with him. there’s a brighter aura around you, there’s a fire in you i’ve never seen. i don’t wanna snuff it out.”

“seo, i—” you try to say something, anything, but you can’t. he’s right. there was no point in trying to hide it. “yeah. i just—” you pause, glancing over your shoulder at beomgyu, who still waits for you beside the lecture hall. his dark hair falls into his eyes and he blows it away, the small action garnering butterflies in your stomach. “i feel things i’ve never felt before when he’s near. i don’t wanna let that go and wonder whether or not i made the wrong decision for the rest of my life.”

“i know. i don’t want you to either,” he frowns, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “let’s end it now. we can always stay friends, yeah?”

“okay,” you breathe. “friends.

he reaches out and you shake his hand, signifying the ticket to your once in a lifetime chance with choi beomgyu. it’s almost freeing.

seojun leaves and you walk back over to beomgyu, a small smile on your face. when he sees you, his signature grin makes its way to his features. there wasn’t any way in hell you were allowing this opportunity to escape from your grasp. you needed to explore the positively magnificent phenomenon that was beomgyu.

“so,” he starts as you begin walking side by side out of the building. “what i said saturday night, about having a crush on you, it was true. i actually look forward to history because i know you’ll be there. aside from thinking you’re really pretty, i love how you don’t have to be someone else around me.”

the butterflies from earlier have conjugated into a swarm now, fluttering aggressively against your rib cage. you turn your head away to hide the goofy smile threatening to split your face in half. why was he so good at this? you stare up at the cerulean sky, pulling on your cardigan when a gust of wind blows past you.

“i think i’ve known about my feelings for you for a while now. it wasn’t until recently that i decided to stop being stupid and actually acknowledge them,” you admit shyly, still afraid to look back at him. “i also enjoy history because of you. you make it a whole lot more bearable.”

“i knew about you and seojun, by the way,” he says after a moment of silence. “when you kissed me. but i didn’t really care about him then. all i could think about was the way your lips felt, even if it was only for a second. you have me wrapped around your finger.”

you pause from walking any further when you realize he stopped. you let your gaze finally shift over to him. the pure adoration in his eyes is something you don’t think you could ever forget. you wanted to commit the raw emotion to memory. his vulnerability right then and there was the last you’d ever see from him. you always think back to this point in time years in the future and ponder whether this was when you felt love for someone else for the first time. maybe it was the only one, too.

“can i show you something?” beomgyu asks, turning his head to look at you in the passenger seat of his car. he was reclined back in his driver’s seat, the vehicle parked in an empty lot on campus.

it was nearing midnight, but neither of you gave a shit. you enjoyed being in each other’s presence during times like these, when it was late and you craved affection.

“what is it?” you yawn, focusing all your attention on him.

“i really think you’re gonna like this song.” beomgyu grins, pressing the play button. a guitar riff fills the car, calming and peaceful just like the atmosphere around you right now.

you don’t want to admit it, but he’s not wrong. you love the song. in fact you like it so much, you want to learn the words and belt them out. (of course you don’t want to embarrass yourself so you don’t look up the lyrics in front of beomgyu.)

“what’d you think?” it’s adorable how excited he is over this.

“i loved it, gyu.” you peck the tip of his nose, giggling at the flush of his cheeks. he deadpans and swats your face away.

a month into your relationship with beomgyu feels like years.

you were out shopping for a gift for dawon since it was her birthday. as you venture through the mall, you decide to browse inside victoria’s secret. you pick out a matching lotion and spray scent before looking around for yourself. (there’s nothing wrong with a little self care.)

you land on a velvet bralette and thong set, checking out quickly so you could go home and get ready for dawon’s birthday dinner. as you’re getting out of the shower, your phone rings with a call from your boyfriend.

“hey gyu!” you smile, putting the device on speaker and setting it on the counter.

“what are you up to?” he asks through the receiver.

“it’s dawon’s birthday and she’s having a fancy dinner later so i’m getting dressed and stuff.” you answer, putting on your undergarments. “speaking of! i went to get her a gift and got myself something, too.”

“oh?” you’ve effectively piqued his curiosity. “what’d you get?” you bite your lip, snapping a picture of your new set to send to him. you know he got it when he gasps. “you think you can wait until tuesday to wear that for me?”

“y-yes.” you croak out, suppressing the urge to cancel on your friends and go over to his apartment right now.

the phone call with beomgyu lasts the entirety of the time it takes you to get ready. when dawon texts that she’s outside your complex, you hang up, already missing the sound of his voice.

dinner goes well, ending with a nice stroll in the town. by the time you’re back at your apartment, your feet are killing you due to the heels you were wearing. the cardigan you wore over your little white dress wasn’t nearly enough to keep you warm either, the cold november air sending a chill down your spine.

as soon as you’re in the comfort of your bedroom, you’re kicking your shoes off, letting beomgyu know you were home safe.

[23:17] gyu <3: that’s good

[23:17] gyu <3: you never showed me what you were wearing

[23:17] gyu <3: i wanna see how pretty you looked

you cover your mouth with your hand when you release a small giggle at his words. you stand in front of the full length mirror in your bathroom, angling your phone so it captures your whole outfit.

[23:24] you: [attachment: 1 image]

[23:25] gyu <3: jesus christ

[23:25] gyu <3: look at you

[23:25] gyu <3: wanna know what you look like underneath

your self restraint snaps and you rush back into your bedroom, throwing yourself onto your bed. this was probably the boldest idea you’ve ever had, but you couldn’t care less. you muffle a groan with your pillow.

[23:27] you: why don’t you call me so you can find out <3

you prop your phone against the wall that’s next to your bed, situating yourself in front of it. it takes all of two seconds for the sound of your ringtone to filter through the room, beomgyu’s video call appearing on the screen.

“i think i was promised a private show.” he teases when you press the green answer button.

“fortunately for you, i never break my promises.” you remark, reaching behind yourself to slowly unzip your dress.

when the first strap falls off your shoulder, you audibly hear the hitch in his breathing. as if to torture him, you slide the second one off even slower. the front of the dress gives way, exposing your bare chest to him. his bottom lip finds purchase between his teeth.

you rid of your dress completely, leaving you in just your panties. you hope he can’t see how embarrassingly turned on you are already. your index finger trails down the front of your body, circling around a peaked nipple and then stopping just above the waistband of your underwear.

“you wanna take those off for me, pretty girl?” beomgyu breathes, entranced by the sight of you like this.

“mhm,” you almost whimper, slipping out of the lacey material. he resists the groan forcing itself from the back of his throat. your fingers hover over your throbbing clit. “can i please touch myself, gyu?”

“fuck, please.” he doesn’t hide it this time, palming himself through his sweats. the thought that you’re the one doing this to him drives you crazy, the fire in the pit of your stomach enraging.

you press the pads of your fingers to your clit, hissing as they massage the skin meticulously. your eyelids droop, focusing on beomgyu as he pulls his cock from the confines of his pants, pumping his shaft with a purpose.

“want you so bad, gyu— mmph— want you inside me…” you whine, inserting two quick fingers and using your palm to rub at your clit. you cup one of your breasts with your free hand and lean your head against a pillow behind you, peeking at the screen to see his reaction.

“yeah? wanna be in you, baby— fuck— wanna feel you around me.” he moans, his brows knitted together in concentration. his eyes never once drift from your cunt, his wrist flicking every time you curl your phalanges inside yourself.

it’s not much longer until you’re cumming on your fingers, arching off of your mattress. beomgyu follows suit, your combined heavy breathing filling your bedroom. you bring the back of your hand to your forehead, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

that wasn’t how you were expecting the night to go.

walking into class that tuesday was terrifying. you know he’d never judge you or make fun of you. but you feel extremely self conscious taking your seat in the lecture hall. (and yes you wore the matching set you bought like he asked.)

the ravenette sits in his spot beside you without issue, smiling at you like he normally would. the action oddly comforts you. your professor begins the lesson and you’ve forgotten all about your worries. however, half way through the lecture, it’s like a pair of eyes are boring holes into you. it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know it’s beomgyu, or to figure out the reason why.

you cross your legs instinctively, gripping your pen with a bit more force. your obvious flustering doesn’t at all quell the hammering of his heart and as soon as the class is dismissed, he’s springing out of his chair and packing his belongings.

you giggle, doing the same so the two of you could exit the hall. beomgyu grabs your hand impatiently, dragging you to the parking lot where his car is. the drive to his apartment is simultaneously the longest and shortest of your life. he drums his fingers on your thigh the entire time, dangerously close to where you wanted him thanks to the skirt you decided to wear that day.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone move as quickly as beomgyu does when he parks his car and almost yanks you out, pulling you up the stairs of his complex to his unit. you barely make it through the door’s threshold, kicking off your shoes before he’s closing it and pushing you up against the wood.

his lips are on yours in an instant, kissing you with such fervor you might combust. his hands roam your body, sneaking behind your ass and hooking under your knees. you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist so he could carry you to his room. though he didn’t look like it at first glance, he was actually pretty strong. thank god his roommates weren’t home.

he shuts his door with his foot, never disconnecting his mouth from yours. you fall onto his mattress with a slight bounce, spreading your thighs enough so he could fit between them, his arms caging either side of you. the warmth of his tongue tangling with your own is burning, scorching even, stealing the air from your lungs.

you part from him to catch your breath, throwing your head back when he starts pressing kisses to the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking all the right spots. your hand cups him through his jeans, palming his hardening erection with each bite of your tender skin. he hisses into your ear, creeping his way up your skirt to thumb circles over your underwear.

“can i see that pretty set of yours now?” he pants, running a hand through his black hair. you don’t hesitate when you nod, almost ripping off your top and skirt with determination. the black velvet is soft under his fingertips as he glides his middle finger along the material of your bralette, going all the way to the band of the thong. he licks his lips. “i love this on you, but i wanna take it off just as much.”

so he does. you’re bared to him now, for real this time, without a screen in the center. you’re not left alone for too long, beomgyu stripping himself of his clothes, desperate for you. he takes ahold of your hip, massaging it gently and gazing into your eyes with a lust so passionate you think you’ll melt. his cock is just centimeters away from your aching pussy, so close you can feel the heat of it.

“need you so badly, gyu. please…” you beg, fisting the comforter below you.

“fuck,” he groans, resting his forehead on yours. “please what? tell me what you need, baby.”

“need your cock deep inside me— ah,” you whine when he trails his knuckle down your slit. “wanna f-feel you.”

that’s all the confirmation he requires, dragging the head of his dick between the lips of your cunt, catching your sensitive clit each time and provoking a moan from you. when he deems you wet enough, he slips in, strengthening his grip on your hips. you whimper as he bottoms out, giving yourself a minute to adjust to his size and length. he’s hot and heavy, stuffing you just beyond what you can take.

“s-so tight,” he moans, one hand pushing up your knee and the other sliding in the middle of the two of you, rubbing your clit gently. “you’re squeezing me, p-pretty girl.”

he hadn’t even started moving and he was already lost in the heat of your walls. you didn’t know seeing beomgyu so pussy drunk was something you needed. the thought has you clamping around his cock, making him gasp at the sensation.

“gyu, m-move— god, please move.” you whimper, tugging at the strands of his hair at his nape.

he grunts, slowly rocking his hips. the angle he’s at is just right, hitting everywhere you need him to and more. your brain feels muddied, not a single thought coming to mind, just the feeling of his cock buried inside of you. your head lolls to the side and beomgyu shoves his face into the crook of your neck, a low growl emerging from his chest as he picks up his pace. each snap of his thighs against the back of your own, slipping with the thin sheen of sweat coating your skin has your vision blurring.

“gonna cum for me yet?” he breathes, the huskiness of his voice inciting goosebumps to litter across the expanse of your skin. he adds a minuscule amount of pressure to the pattern he’s thumbing into your clit and you clench down on him, giving him the answer he was awaiting.

“gonna cum s-so hard, gyu— mmm f-fuck— feels so good,” you mewl, digging your heels into the bed and tangling your fingers deeper into his dark tresses. one particularly harsh sting to his scalp has him going feral, the control he had over his speed diminishing to nothing.

a perfectly timed kiss to your sweet spot and a pinch to your clit breaks the band in your core and tips you across the edge, waterfall like waves coursing through your body as you keen voluminously. your orgasm forces your walls to ripple, coaxing beomgyu’s ejaculation. his hips stutter and he pulls his cock out just in time to shoot milky white ropes of cum onto your belly with an airy moan filling your ears.

beomgyu cards his fingers through his hair, still hovering dangerously and impossibly close to you. “that was—”

“wow.” is all you can both say, laughing at the mess you’ve made. that smile of his, the one you’ve grown accustomed to, the ‘gyu grin’ as you liked to call it, makes its appearance and you can’t quell the knot tightening in your tummy.

“let’s get you cleaned up.” he says, extending his arm out to support you. he leads you into the bathroom, where he consequently turns on the water from the shower head. when he follows you in, you spin under the spray to raise an eyebrow at him. “i won’t try anything! i just wanna help you since i’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“okay! okay! no need to get so defensive.” you joke, turning back around to enjoy the warmth and pressure of the water against your sore muscles.

beomgyu comes up behind you, squeezing body wash into the palm of his hand. he lathers the soap into your skin while he kisses your neck and shoulders with a fondness you swore only existed in books. you lean into his touch, succumbing to your surroundings.

you’d never experienced anything like this before. there were so many emotions swirling inside of you and you didn’t know which ones to listen to. you were starting to feel like the main character in a movie.

“gyu?”

“hmm?” he hums, focused on rinsing you carefully.

“i think,” you swallow thickly, shutting your eyes as you gather the words. “i think that i love you.”

you feel the way his hand halts its movements, slightly trembling in nervousness. he has you face him once more, searching your face for any indication that you’re kidding. (you’re not.) then the widest and brightest smile you’ve ever seen from him spreads across his lips.

“i think that i love you, too.”

that’s about as euphoric as it got with him.

you thought after that, that it could only get easier. you thought as time passed, it’d be a second nature to love choi beomgyu. but it was the complete opposite.

the gentleness of his hold and the sweet nothings whispered when it was just the two of you, was no more than that, just between you. in front of his friends it was like you were a friend, one of the guys. soobin and yeonjun didn’t even know you were dating until you mentioned something about your four month anniversary.

it didn’t help that everyone knew how attractive he was. his long lashes and the way his silky obsidian hair curled around the back of his neck, white strands sprinkled about, were very pleasing to look at. girls all over campus would kill to be the one draped on his arm. and while it didn’t bother you at first, because you understood the side effects of having a good looking boyfriend, it quickly became an issue when he didn’t shove away the attention.

the deeper you fell for beomgyu, the deeper you carved wounds into your own self.

you think back to when you first got together, the unrelenting butterflies knocking against your ribs, the blaze in your stomach. you remember thinking that it couldn’t get any better and you wish you could rewind time to tell yourself to savor all of those little moments. to cherish the few months that felt like your own personal piece of heaven. because all you felt towards the end was a hollowness in your chest, where your heart should’ve been.

you wanted to salvage your relationship. you wanted to keep fighting for that fire that you so hopelessly desired to still exist somewhere. but as you sit on seonmi’s bed after the second dance performance he missed, bawling your eyes out into a tub of ice cream, you decide that you can’t take it anymore. you were at your limit.

she rubs at your back comfortingly, watching you pull out your phone to call him. you attempt to seize your sniffles, praying you can keep up a brave front.

just as you think he’s sending you to voicemail, he answers. “hello?”

suddenly you’re catapulted to five months ago, to the first day in your history class last semester. you’re reminded of the twinkle in his eye whenever he walked into the lecture hall, the twinkle that you recognized from almost an alarming distance. you’re back in that same seat beside him, trying to concentrate on what the professor’s saying, but constantly returning to him.

you’re slingshot to three months ago, when your relationship was still fresh, when you were in your honeymoon phase. you recall sitting in your living room with him, working on homework and talking about both nothing and everything. you’re singing along to a song that won’t sound the same ever again. a song that will always make you think of him. of the only boy you’ve ever truly loved.

“i can’t keep doing this, gyu.”

“is it okay if i’m on aux while we stretch?” your friend asks from across the dance studio.

you look up from your phone, turning it off and tossing it into your bag with a nod. “sure, i don’t mind. as long as you don’t have a shitty taste in music.”

she laughs, throwing you the finger as she shuffles her playlist. you roll your neck, bringing an arm behind your head. a familiar guitar riff crackles through the speakers. it’s a song you haven’t listened to in years, due to its history in your past.

“oh shit, i love this song!”

maybe you would’ve said otherwise if you were a few years younger. maybe it would’ve brought tears to your eyes and reopened scars you hoped would heal. but instead of remembering all the negatives, you remember the night you first heard it and smile genuinely.

“me too.”

Pulling the bright neon paper attached to your door off, you use your key to open the door with a look of confusion. You nor your roommate could afford to pay rent this month after you lost your job and he didn't get paid.

You were at a loss. "Gyu? I think their serious this time about rent" you shout as you swing open the door and shut it. You push the tip of your shoe to the heel of your other one kicking it off and doing the same to your other one.

The faint sound of cartoons playing on the TV in the living room resided in the air of your apartment. As you walk closer the patter of your feet caught the attention of your roommate who had come back from his lectures not even just a half an hour before you.

"Did Mrs. Kim stop you on your way here?" He asked looking at you for over the chair of the couch his head rested against. "No. This time, they left an eviction notice" you said with full intention to show how bitter you had become about this.

You wave the orange paper above his head he grabs it lazily as his brown eyes skim over the sheet "you are herby given an eviction notice to vacate the premises within 30 DAYS and if you make all outstanding payments before the date of eviction you will be able to remain on the premises as long as you continue to pay rent." Beomgyu read out the sentence.

You shake your head thinking of a way to make money fast in the span of 3 weeks. "Any clue how we can pay 6,000 dollars in a month?" You ask as you move to sit on the end of the couch as his legs were tucked.

"No but- we might as well start looking or else we'll be homeless and jobless" he scoffed as he pulled his phone that had been wedged between him and the couch cushions. You pulling yours out of your pocket in distress.

Searching through your contacts you call the most reasonable person you know. And just as you were about to click the call button Beomgyu snatches your phone from your hand. "We're not calling Soobin. He would not only would he chew us out for not saying something sooner, but he would probably come here and insist we crash at his place" Beomgyu says tossing your phone onto the coffee table.

"You know him too well" you groan upset that your responsible and financially stable friend was like a helicopter parent. "Yes, so instead of calling him, go look up some jobs we could do for easy money" Gyu tries to reason with you.

And you cave at his words with a small pout. "Fine, I'll keep track of a list that we could do" you say tired already you retreat to your room.

You take off your jacket and toss it to the floor with the rest of the clothes you had worn this week and had no time to pick up. You crawl into your bed and under sheets letting the warmth engulf you as you reach into your back back pocket for your phone to begin your job search.

Living in a huge city meant it was least likely you could land a good job that payed well because spots were already full, so you had already began to search the internet and much to your liking you had been brought to a video of a girl explaining how she made easy money online through various ways.

What started off as innocent side jobs such as testing apps and stuff along those lines she began to trail off onto much more... mature ways she made money.

Websites to be exact. She had said she made over $7,000 per month because she easily went on adult rated websites and being payed $390 dollars for every video she produced.

You had payed close attention to the things she said how she got paid just for videos of her, but she also spoke about how she considered pursuing a sugar daddy and things of the sort for money.

And to be honest with yourself.... you were desperate. 30 days and in that span you could have made 6,000 dollars and a bit extra to confide in just didn't sound all too bad in your eyes.

Of course your skeptical and weary of the things you have to do in order to get this money but if you had to lose your dignity so be it. Rather it be that than your home.

But the soft knock on your bedroom door had you pause the video "come in" you spoke as you shift under your sheets to look at the wooden door covered in stickers and pictures of your friends and chipped away pieces of wood from drunken nights and sloppy hookups.

"So hear me out..." Beomgyu had pushed the door open with a determined glint in his eyes. He walked past all your clothes on the floor to make himself comfortable on your bed. "Porn" he spoke as he crossed his legs and rested his hands in his lap.

"What?" You scoff, the one word that left his lips had you dumbstruck. "Porn. We could make porn and get cash by the end of the month, that includes like doing live streams and stuff, we could make major bank off that" He reasons.

You felt like he had shared an entire brain with you "It's not a bright idea- but we're broke. And to put it short we need money fast so if this is what we have to do it I'm down" you say making sure he understood your priorities.

And he did, just as much as you wanted to pay the rent before those 30 days so did he. "Which means we could also save up cash, which means no more taking the bus, and probably eating from that cheap market down the street" you said coming to the realization that you had to sacrifice only a bit.

"That's reasonable. 30 days is all the time we need" Beomgyu shrugs as his hand goes to brush the small brown and blonde hair out of his face. "How exactly are we gonna do this?" You say with a slight edge in your voice.

Beomgyu smiles as the words fall past your lips "I have no idea" he answers. "I didn't think you would agree" he laughed as he now has to think further on the stupid idea that came up off the top of his head on a whim.

"i can't believe this right now," he mumbles to himself. it would've been better to have some foreplay going on but at this point, he would take what he could get.

slowly and ever so gently he picks at the hem of your pajama pants. it was one of those rare days that you wore them to bed. he pulls them down enough that he won't have to move you to take them off but there's enough space for him to do what he needs to do.

slowly and ever so gently he picks at the hem of your pajama pants. it was one of those rare days that you wore them to bed. he pulls them down enough that he won't have to move you to take them off but there's enough space for him to do what he needs to do.

he lets out a shaky breath as he pulls his hardened cock out from his sweats. he winces as he moves the precum around to get it wet.

he moves one of his long fingers down to your hole and gently slides up to rub your clit. “baby why- why are you so wet?” he lets out a breath. “did you play with yourself before i got here or are you having some kind of wet dream?” his ears go red at the thought.

he contemplates marking you in your sleep but decides against it. once he figures that you’re lubed up enough with your own cum for you to take him he slips his cock easily into you.

he sighs once he gets about half way in. it takes some strain but with how wet you were already, thankfully he didn’t have to put in much effort. you stir a little bit, moaning quietly but still on cloud 9. “what are you dreaming about?” he asks, mostly to himself.

kai lets out a groan when he tries to move. "so good.." he wraps his arms around you and buries his head in your neck, the front part of his body now completely pressed up onto your back. to him, he was muffling his moans and trying to get as deep into you as possible.

but to you, in your dream state, kai had just come home and was snuggling behind you. your body unconsciously tries to get close to him so you press your back closer to him. this causes him to bite his lip as his cock is now buried inside you and he lets out a muffled groan.

“so tight.. h-how am i supposed to move in this position?” he mumbles to himself. he attempts to hold onto your shoulder and move his hips back and forth slowly. this seems to work so he keeps at it until he goes at a steady pace.

curiosity gets the better of him so he looks down and in the moonlight peeking through the curtains he can vaguely make out the scene and it makes him throb slightly. his dick is coated in a sheen layer of his and your cum. there’s a patch of wetness where both your bodies meets and he can only assume you must’ve caused that before he got here.

“fuck.” the thought of you masturbating while he wasn’t home turned him on, more than he’d like to admit. he could only imagine how empty you must’ve felt rubbing on your clit and pumping in and out of your hole with your small hands. he’s surprised you somehow managed to get yourself off.

he starts to slowly pick up speed and the faint sound of his skin meeting yours starts to fill the room. kai lets out a moan followed by strings of your name as his head is thrown back.

you wince slightly and moan into your pillow, an action that kai doesn’t seem to catch.

“i might-“ he groans. he pulls out of you, rolling over on his back. he quickly places his hand at his cock and starts pumping at a rapid pace. he tries to hold back his whines but fails as some slip out. with one last buck of his hips, he closes his eyes as his high approaches and cum dribbles down his fingers and onto his pants.

he turns over to hide his face his pillow as he takes deep breaths.

after a moment of regaining himself he turns over to see if you’re still sleeping and to his surprise you are. “im gonna clean you up, sorry,” he apologizes for his actions but almost doesn’t regret them at all.

“seriously you sleep like a rock,” he laughs to himself.

—

general taglist 🥝╰╮𖦹 ̣ ˖

The moment the event ended, an ending speech given by Hoseok himself, you found yourself being clambered and approached by investors alike, interested in your idea. Interested in you.

“Would you consider this salary to be sufficient for this position?”

“My boss would love to meet you!”

“That was a phenomenal presentation. Would you be free to discuss further opportunities over lunch?”

“When Mr Jung said you were exceptional, I think he was underplaying it. You are an asset.”

All these words, ones that you’ve unknowingly craved your entire life, seem to do nothing to you. All you could offer was a kind smile and a business card with your email. You knew what you were here for, and you didn’t want greed to blind your direction in life just yet. In fact, you were just starting out.

But of course, you couldn’t turn away the actual boss.

“Come ere’,” Hoseok grins so widely, arms extended to embrace you, that you can’t ignore him even if you wanted to. And despite your embarrassment and the curious gazes that follow, you jump into his arms.

“I’m so glad it’s over,” you murmur.

“Can’t say the same. I didn’t know you were that interesting when you spoke.”

You pinch his side as he snickers, releasing you as his expression is replaced with a softer one.

“You did amazing,” he says.

“Hobi,” you mumble shyly, eyes darting away.

“God. Seriously. I say this with all the love and objectivity but that was really sexy of you,” he whistles, back to his goofy self as you roll your eyes when he wiggles his eyebrows.

“I thought you were decent.” You hear another voice interject, filled with disgust as your eyes look behind Hoseok’s shoulders to see Loli and Jungkook approaching you with wide grins on their faces.

Hoseok turns around to snort while he playfully dodges Loli’s swat.

“I am,” he croons, “Simply telling our lovely ____ how it is.”

“Men,” she scoffs before her eyes flit towards you. “And you, young lady. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Loli,” you say softly, embracing her when her hands instinctively reach out to squeeze your own.

“You are a star; a force of your own; that was beautiful,” she gushes, and you feel your heart soar when she looks at you with a twinkle in her eyes that mimics a proud parent. It’s an unfamiliar look, but not from Loli. Loli always looks that way.

“So you are capable of sounding cool,” Jungkook interjects smoothly, feigning disinterest even if he wiggles his way into the hug to give your hair a ruffle.

“Shut up,” you scowl, pinching his sides when he snickers. “Aren’t you failing one of your requisites for nursing school?”

Jungkook’s jaw drops as he flushes. “It’s hard.”

You stick your tongue out at him when he glares at you. It’s lighthearted, the both of you know this when his eyes soften, digging his fingers against your shoulder as he brings you in to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Proud of you,” he murmurs softly, a little shy when Loli rolls her eyes at his almost silent tone. “You did amazing.”

“What did I say about being stingy with compliments?” Loli scolds, thwacking the muscly man by the arm as he yelps.

“I complimented her!” he huffs.

“I think she meant to not sound so begrudging,” Hoseok butts in with a chirp.

“Who asked you, hyung,” Jungkook scowls bitterly as you giggle at his antics, turning to poke a finger into his cheeks when he attempts to swat your hand away.

“Jungkook complimented me,” you tease in a mocking tone, “You think I did amazing.”

“I thought the lady who spoke about the water pipes did amazing too,” he sneers, the tips of his ears flushed red.

Deciding to provoke him further, you wrap your arms around his neck and drag his head down to your height while he fumbles in your grasp.

“Just say you think I’m cool, Jeon Jungkook,” you grin.

“I don’t lie,” he huffs pettily, sticking his nose up in the air as you let out a bark of laughter.

Loli almost goes to tweak her grandson’s ears again but then Hoseok speaks up, a soft smile on his face when he cocks his head to the side.

“You’ve got other people that are really proud of you too.”

When he steps aside, Haerin appears with a wide grin and teary eyes. Though, it’s not her you’re fixated on.

It’s Yoongi.

He stands somewhat stiffly behind her, the bouquet of flowers an ever imposing presence behind her as he meets your eyes. There’s a tug in your chest when he acknowledges your gaze with a soft smile; the tilt of his lips raising ever so slightly when he nods his head towards Haerin.

You look at her, and she’s already in front of you.

“You—what!” she exasperates, as if frustrated. “How are you so good! You’re so good at public speaking, what the hell!”

“And you are less eloquent than I thought,” Loli adds with a downturn of her lips.

Haerin is still on her toes when she engulfs you into a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers into your jumpsuit, her head peeking up to show you how her eyes hold the truth of her words. “I’m so proud to call you my sister.”

You blink, feeling your heart clench in your chest and your throat clam up at how earnest her words are. You’re still awkwardly standing when she hugs you, but it’s a dynamic you’re learning to get used to. Perhaps it’d always be that way, where Haerin radiates life and hope while you were the realistic check and balance that regulated her.

And somehow, the realisation doesn’t burn like it used to.

“Thank you for coming tonight, Haerin,” you tell her honestly, finally reaching out to squeeze the meat of her bicep as she beams at you.

“Why are you thanking me?” she huffs, waving you off before pulling away with a cheeky grin. “What sisters are for, right?”

“What sisters are for,” you murmur, squeezing her hand.

Haerin smiles at you and she looks so sweet like this. She chose to opt-out of wearing heels, and you vaguely remember her never liking them even if they made her taller. Your parents were adamant about her wearing heels though, and when you notice her flats—you smile for her.

“And as your sister, I don’t want to get in the way…” she says, trailing off as she steps aside.

You raise her brow at her words before she steps away to turn around to wildly gesture at Yoongi to step forward with her flailing arms. You see Loli shoot her a dry look and you’re flushing when she doesn’t hide how obvious she is at dragging the older man over to where the two of you were.

Yoongi sighs. There’s not a hint on his face that tells him he was flustered, and you don’t expect him to be. Yoongi was always the perfect combination of calm and collected. He knew exactly what he wanted and what he needed to do. Tonight was no different.

It’s him who speaks first. Or rather, who acts first.

“You have a little…” he begins, softly. Then, the hand that was stuffed in his pocket and not holding the bouquet reaches out, ever so slowly before he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

Your face burns, especially when you see Haerin smack Jungkook’s arm with a giddy expression while he jumps at the sudden unexpected gesture.

You ignore them as you duck your head to the ground.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

Yoongi smiles, and you feel your heart spin like it was in the centre of the world.

“These are for you,” he says, holding out the flowers as you look up to admire the beautiful arrangement. It’s all of your favourite flowers, aesthetically because you didn’t really mind. But Yoongi knew; of course, he did. The thought makes your hands feel weak; stomach churning a little funny when he pairs it with that godforsaken smile of his.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you say again, looking up to meet his eyes.

He smiles with his eyes this time, a gentle expression on his face before he tucks his hands into his pockets. You take the time to breathe him in; each other when he unintentionally does the same.

Yoongi looks devastatingly handsome tonight. He ditched the blazer but his dress-shirt was tucked into his slacks, making him look like the competent, successful man that he would always become. There’s a quiet sense of confidence that surrounds Yoongi. He never needed to be the tallest person in the room to command people’s attention, nor did he need to be the biggest to emphasise his strength.

Yoongi carried his confidence in silent struts, the way he’s doing right now when he looks you over, eyes trailing over your figure as if absorbing the way you looked tonight with his eyes. You do the same, and when you reach his lips—you note that his tongue darts out to wet them when his eyes rake over your figure.

“Oh-kay.” You hear Jungkook whistle like the little brat he is. “The sexual tension is through the roof right now.”

You snap out of your reverie with a furious flush on your cheeks, but Yoongi only smiles at you when he meets your eyes, not denying Jungkook’s words.

“Let me take this—” Loli interjects, stepping in between the both of you as she snatches the bouquet out of your grasp, “—and you two can go do whatever you need to do!”

“Loli—wait, where do I meet you after?” you ask with furrowed brows, face still flushed at the fact that all your friends and your sister were looking at you with wide, knowing smiles when they take in you and Yoongi’s stance.

“After?” she raises a brow, “You mean tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” you repeat, confused.

“After doing what you need to do, of course,” she smirks, “If that’s each other then—”

“What she means to say is that we’re happy to take you out for a celebratory lunch tomorrow,” Hoseok intervenes with his charming smile, holding Loli by the shoulders as she sighs.

You knew what she was going to say, but you refrain from acknowledging it so you wouldn’t end up looking like a tomato.

“I—are you sure?” you ask, unsure, turning back to look at Yoongi who has a calm expression on his face, hands stuffed in his pocket.

“Go,” Haerin encourages, reaching out to squeeze your hand as you open your mouth to protest.

Your poor heart wouldn’t be able to survive a moment with Yoongi, alone. Especially knowing what you know.

“I need to tell you something.” You hear Yoongi speak up from behind you, and Haerin shoots you a knowing smile as Hoseeok wiggles his eyebrows at you in a way you know he thought was unsuspecting.

“Okay,” you concede, squeezing Haerin’s hand in return before you step away. You wave to the four people on the other side, ignoring the way Jungkook looks absolutely smug while Hoseok shoots you a thumbs up.

Haerin’s about to open her mouth, but Loli drags her away before she can say anything.

She turns to wave, and you open your mouth to say something before you feel a warm hand on your lower back as you jump.

When your head turns, Yoongi’s right behind you and he keeps his touch featherlight, but enough to leave you burning.

“Is there somewhere quiet we can go to?”

Your eyes finally meet his and Yoongi’s kind enough to not fluster you even further with his staggering stare. Instead, he does what he’s always done and waits until you realise that he was waiting. His hand never waivers, and you wonder just how long he’s waited.

“There’s a nice foyer outside,” you tell him, and he nods, allowing you to lead the way despite the erratic beating of your heart.

A staff member smiles at you when you pass by multiple investors and guests who’ve yet to leave. You force one back to not seem rude, and you hope it masks how nervous you were. The night is dark and cold. It’s one of your favourite feelings when the wind blows against your face. But despite the low temperature, there’s a warmth that you can’t describe that plagues you.

It wasn’t a coincidence that Yoongi’s hand never strays.

The foyer overlooks the vast expanse of water. It’s moonlit and dark, so whatever lays beneath it remains unknown to you but it was still equally as beautiful. Perhaps there was something captivating about the unknown, the fact that you had to wait to be fed its beauty immediately. When the water ripples, it reminds you of a lot of things.

Starting with Yoongi.

“You were amazing, by the way,” Yoongi speaks up in the cold night, smoke permeating the air from where his breath escapes.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “It was…it was nothing, really.”

“That nothing is giving people a chance they never had,” he says in all seriousness, “I’m really proud of you, ___. Even if you don’t need me to be.”

“I—” you swallow, unsure of how to respond as your eyes avoid his own gaze to stare over the ledge, “You know I care about what you think.”

Yoongi chuckles quietly, shaking his head as he stares ahead to where your eyes rest.

“I’m glad,” he nods, “I’m thankful, too.”

You nod your head awkwardly, fiddling with your thumbs. There are not many people by the dock, mostly because it’s freezing and they were sane enough to chase warmth than the bone-chilling atmosphere outside. So, it was quiet. Quiet enough that your thoughts run wild; and you recall the last night you saw him, a good week ago; and since then—it’s been silent.

He hadn’t reached out except for a singular text that said “I’m still willing to talk. I’ll wait” where it was left on read from your end. You wondered why he was here when you acted the way you did, hostile, unwarranted, irrational; you wondered why he was still so—Yoongi.

“You’re a really good person, you know?”

His voice startles you as you jump, head immediately snapping to the left to see that Yoongi’s still staring ahead.

“What?” you squeak.

“When you were speaking,” he starts, tentatively, “You had so much conviction. So much…passion. You spoke as if you were in their shoes. You didn’t have to do what you did, but you did,” he explains, then he turns to you as you feel your heart seize at how earnest his eyes were. “You’re a good person.”

“What—where is this coming from?” you ask with furrowed brows.

“But when you were speaking to the investors, you tried your best to downplay your achievements. Why did you do that?” Yoongi lays out, completely ignoring your query.

“You were eavesdropping?” you gawk.

“You’re pretty loud,” he offers with a soft, tilted smile.

You huff, then you shake your head as you focus your stare ahead once more. There’s a glimmer in the water, the moonlight prettier than ever when it reflects against the surface, almost enchanting.

“I’m privileged, Yoongi,” you frown, “There are layers of privilege that I recognise I have over others and I’m trying my best to do what I can to level the playing field. I’m not a good person because I did the bare minimum with what I have. No one deserves to live in fear—of poverty—or under an establishment that systemically disenfranchises them. I’m aware, not good. That’s why I do what I do.”

You can feel his gaze against your temple, curious. It’s unrelenting, and you shift under his intense scrutiny when he doesn’t look away when you expect him to. It’s almost as if he was attempting to unravel every lone thought in your mind to make sense of your words, to understand the depths of your words in a way that extended from the words uttered into the air.

“You can be a good person and recognise your privilege, you know? Those things aren’t mutually exclusive,” he says pointedly.

You’re mildly dumbfounded at the way the conversation flows. You wonder if Yoongi had decided to drop your unfinished conversation, or if he was waiting for your green light. But you’re not as brave as you wish you were, so you don’t make any exhibition that you were still curious about—still wondering.

“Maybe,” you say slowly, “But they’re relative. I’m good in an objective sense. But when you take context into account and my position in life, I’m nowhere near good. I cannot call myself good simply because I try to give back. That’s why I just sell the proposal and hope the investors invest in the idea because they’re looking for a business opportunity tied to altruism. That sucks. But it’s the most feasible way for these families to get some sort of help.”

“See, a bad person wouldn’t be as conscious about the things you’ve mentioned,” Yoongi argues.

“And this sense of morality isn’t absolute,” you say with an eye roll, “Just because I’m not good doesn’t automatically make me bad. That’s like calling someone who’s unaware a bigot.”

“Are they not?” Yoongi prompts.

“No. Trump is a bigot. Not someone who’s been exposed to a particular ideology and is simply unaware but capable of change,” you deadpan.

A smile twitches on Yoongi’s face before he lets out a huff of a chuckle.

“Well if you’re not good then you’re definitely something else,” he laughs.

“Why are you so insistent on this anyway,” you huff.

“Because you always try to downplay everything you clearly deserve into chance, or circumstances when really, it’s all you.”

“It’s because I’m severely average, Yoongi,” you snap, turning around to glare at him, suddenly frustrated with the conversation. “Just because I did one thing that’s suddenly good doesn’t make me this super-person—”

“You’re not average,” he says firmly, turning towards you as your eyes widen. “You’re the least average person I know.”

There seems to be an underlying connotation that exists in his words. There’s also desperation in his eyes, almost pleading when they meet your own. You don’t quite know what to make out of it, and you don’t want to be naive to assume that Yoongi was trying to say something by saying nothing at all.

“You’re a doctor, Yoongi. You’re literally always surrounded by exceptional people,” you deadpan.

“That’s why you should take my word for it,” he whispers, “You should see yourself the way I see you.”

Your breath hitches and your eyes befriend the ground at how much you’re avoiding his gaze. You’re glad he doesn’t pry or push the limit of the invincible barrier you’ve drawn between the both of you.

“I don’t want to be disappointed,” you say, muted.

You can’t see Yoongi but you can practically feel the way he shifts on his feet. That was something only he could do; take up space even when there were ample amounts of it within the vicinity. He was close, not just physically but he was present. You could feel it, and you could feel your hands clam up while your heart squeezed in your chest.

“Do you remember the time when you got suspended back in high school?”

You flush, ears turning red with embarrassment and with the cold.

“That was nearly a decade ago,” you mutter under your breath.

Yoongi continues. “You stood up for a girl in your grade. She was being bullied by some rich mean girls and you stood up for her despite not knowing who she was.”

“I literally yanked one of their hairs—” you exasperate.

“—I thought you were so cool back then. I heard from Haerin that you got suspended and she was concerned about your grades but all I could think about was how brave you had to be to stand up for a virtual stranger at the cost of your own benefit.”

It’s almost a trivial memory that’s been extracted from you when Yoongi recounts the details of that matter. You don’t really remember the girls you defended her from, but you did remember her. Hana, a soft and quiet girl—a little shy, a little odd—but she was kind. She smiled when she could, and you remembered admiring her for her ability to shine under a cast.

“That was…” you say meekly, trailing off.

Yoongi steps closer, and you take a step back to establish some form of distance, but your back immediately knocks against the ledge as your eyes enlarge when you realise the vast expanse of water beneath you.

“Or when Jungkook lost his father,” he says solemnly, so quiet when the memory surfaces again. Your heart clenches again. “And Loli lost her son. You brought them over to your apartment and made sure they ate. You cooked all of their meals, painted with them to get their minds off the grief—and even spoke to Jungkook’s practitioner to give him an extension for his exam.”

“I was being a good friend,” you explain lamely.

“You were being selfless,” he corrects you, and only do you realise how close he’s gotten.

Now that you were completely sober, the distance—or lack thereof—between the both of you, flustered you. Yoongi didn’t seem perturbed by how close he was getting, if anything, it only seemed to spur the onset of his words.

“I thought you were the kindest person I knew,” he murmurs quietly.

“You don’t know many people then,” you mutter.

Yoongi is dead set on proving you wrong because he ignores you and carries it forward.

“And I’ll never forget when you visited me every single day when I dislocated my shoulder and had my surgery.”

“I wasn’t the only one who visited you,” you remind him exasperatedly. “Your parents were there. Haerin. Jungkook. Heck, even Loli was there.”

“No. But you were the only one that stayed to feed me, cook for me, subject me to your shitty movies and social commentary all while secretly organising my patient files when I couldn’t,” he says blankly, voice pointed.

You gawk, affronted, “Your nurse told you that?!” Internally, you curse at her for snitching on you when you purposely reminded her not to.

“You talk to yourself a lot when you’re focused, you know?” he muses, eliciting a peevish huff from you. “And you should know that I’m a really light sleeper.”

You scowl.

Then, his eyes soften when he takes yet another step forward, body practically keeping you warm in the cold night—all while you stutter at the proximity, mind blanking and almost forgetting just what type of situation you were truly in.

The silence after the storm; the way you cowardly bolted when you were confused.

But Yoongi doesn’t let you dwell on it for too long when he grabs a hold of your hands to engulf his larger palm over your knuckles.

“Yoongi—” you say nervously.

“Thing is, I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” he says softly, “How…loving you are.”

“Yoongi, I’m literally the meanest bitch out there,” you gape.

You? Loving? How could he possibly think that when—?

“You have a big heart,” he says, “And even if you were a bitch—” he says this with a knowing look as you huff, “—that will never change the things you’ve done for others.”

“Anyone could do what I did if they cared enough,” you mumble.

“Anyone can do anything,” he immediately interjects, “But many people choose not to. You chose to do the things you did, and for that reason, you’ve imprinted yourself onto so many people’s lives. That’s who you are.”

Yoongi’s never the person to lie. Not outwardly, not straight to your face, at least. People would call him brutally honest at times; brutal because feelings could end up wounded, but honest because he valued it. But it’s hard to believe the words that leave his mouth when you’ve only ever thought otherwise.

Yoongi squeezes around your hand as you briefly jolt back to reality when your eyes peer up at him.

“As I said,” he says softly, “You don’t see you the way I do.”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” you chuckle softly, shaking your head when your feet become more interesting than the conversation.

It wasn’t, but it was safer.

Then, Yoongi grasps your cheeks in his hands as you jump at the contact. He doesn’t pull away. He forces you to look at him and take the impact of his expression. Your heart stammers against your chest and you feel your cheeks turn impossibly hot, a paradox of this cold weather. Yet, you’re thankful that it’s dark out—possibly shielding any form of mortification that paints your stature.

“You’re not just a good person, ___.” He doesn’t shift away when he says this, eyes blazing into your own as your dart everywhere. You wonder if he feels the heat from your cheeks. “You’re an amazing person.”

“But—”

“And there will be people who don’t recognise that. But there are people who do,” he says. “People like Jungkook. People like Loli. Hobi. Marco from that cafe you like. Your teammates who really look up to you, by the way—”

Then, he presses his thumb against your cheek when you look at him through the wisp of your lashes.

“And me.”

“What are you doing, Yoongi,” you say quietly.

Yoongi purses his lips, then a hand brushes through your hair as you almost melt into his touch. Despite everything, it’s a feeling you bask in. A feeling you always return to.

“Telling you the truth,” he murmurs.

“That’s not—”

“You’ve heard it from Haerin,” he continues, intercepting your words as you feel your throat go dry. “You’ve probably heard it from everyone—”

You try to pull away, squirming under his serious gaze.

“But I want you to hear it from me,” he finally says, and your faces are only inches apart.

“Yoongi…”

“I’m in love with you.”

You feel everything stop. It’s stupidly cliche but it’s the only thing that makes sense. Not even the way Yoongi’s holding you registers in your brain when the words settle into the atmosphere. The way the cloud of smoke from the cold dissipates into the air as he stares at you with devout tenderness—nothing makes sense except for the fact that you feel like you’ve paused.

“You—”

“And you can’t tell me how I feel,” he says in a low whisper, drawing your foreheads together. “I know I’ve hurt you and I know I’ve done things that contradict what I just said but I’ve never known anything truer than how I feel for you.”

Your jaw slackens as your mouth opens and closes in search of words.

You feel—

“I’m so in love with you that it’s the only thing that makes sense to me,” he whispers and you almost squeak at the way he’s practically echoed your own internal thoughts. “I worry for you, I care for you, I want to be around you, I want to see you smile all the time and—fuck. I’m so fucking in love with you that the only thing I can think about is how much I love you.”

Yoongi takes your breath away in all the ways possible. You never fooled him to be the poetic type but his words are honest. And that’s what you realise he’s trying to do.

Be honest.

“But…” you struggle to get the words out, mostly because your mind refuses to submit to the knowledge that Yoongi loved you. Even now, when all but deception paints his tongue—you couldn’t believe it.

“You drive me insane,” he hisses.

“Excuse me?” you gape, “How the fuck can—?”

“You drive me insane but you drive me,” he whispers, earning your enlarged gaze. “Every single day I want you in my life, ___. However I can have you, I'll take it because I can’t picture a life without you in it.” You almost choke at how earnest he sounds, “And just know that I’ve never not chosen you. I just—”

He swallows, then his eyes flutter shut when his forehead drops to your shoulder as you gulp.

“I thought the only way I could move on even if I tried,” he laughs tightly, “And when Haerin brought it up I…” You blink, only realising how stiff you’ve gotten when his hand reaches to squeeze your own. “I was selfish, ___. And I hate myself for it.”

It hurt. It did. But it was the type of pain that you’ve come to terms with; the type of pain that was necessary, you feel. Some pain would help you grow, like a scab from a fall that rejuvenates into new skin to protect your flesh. That was how it felt—it hurt, at the moment—but you grow, just like how you were supposed to.

“Yoongi…”

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, lifting his head up so that you’re now staring at each other, eye to eye.

“Yoongi…” you repeat once more, and for the first time, you return his hold when you wrap your hands around his own.

He’s visibly shocked, especially when his eyes travel south before returning to rest on your face.

“When?”

Yoongi pauses.

You swallow. “Since…when?”

“Long enough that I don’t remember a time where I wasn’t in love with you.”

Yoongi cups your face in his hands as your jaw drops into a gape, stunned to silence at his impassioned claim. Somehow, the knowledge that he’s felt this way for this long, perhaps as long as you have, only saddens you. That all this while—the two of you were there, but not quite.

“What does…what does this mean for us?” you ask tentatively, then you clear your throat when he blinks. “Where does this leave us?”

“Wherever you want us to be,” he replies softly.

Then, your mind travels to a proposition you were suggested with by one of the investors and you feel…conflicted.

On one hand, you felt relieved. That your feelings were reciprocated and that Yoongi loved you. It was hard to believe it, but you spent enough time running away from the truth that it only ended up hurting you more. You didn’t know if it was the pitch, the fact that your parents had sent you a message each detailing an ambiguous apology—or the fact that Yoongi was here, in front of you—and was almost yours—

But you were…content.

“I—” you swallow, “I got an offer.”

Yoongi pauses.

“One of the investors, um,” you stammer, “Really liked my pitch and, well, he offered me a job.”

“That’s amazing, ____,” Yoongi says, cupping your cheeks as you nearly stumble backwards, the ledge stopping you.

“It’s in Berlin.”

A gust of wind blows against your face, the fabric of your coat jostling at the impact. You feel the chill against your semi-exposed chest where your attire doesn’t cover the skin, but that’s minuscule in the grand scheme of things. You fear Yoongi’s reaction, more so because you can’t read him yet again. His face is…indefinite. A blank canvas waiting to be painted.

“And I want it,” you continue, a shaky sense of confidence when you gather the courage to look him in the eye. “I want…I want this for me.”

There’s something oddly belated yet fulfilling about getting that out of the way. You didn’t owe him an explanation, not really anyway. You didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

But having admitted that you were doing something for yourself, your happiness was revitalising. Having known that throughout your entire life you were too busy shrinking yourself to fit a certain mould or expectation, this was cathartic for you. An opportunity to embark on a journey that you never knew you could start.

“I want to look out for myself, for once,” you say softly when Yoongi remains silent, his lips pursed. “I’ve—I’ve spent my entire life feeling like I was never enough…that I wasn’t deserving of anything that came my way and—” you release a breath, and you feel slightly anxious but despite Yoongi’s silence, he squeezes your hand, as if he knows. He knew. “—I’m starting to realise that it was never anyone else but always me.”

“You deserve the world, ___,” he says gently, then his thumb follows up your neck until it swipes at the skin under your eye, featherlight.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you admit, and you feel his thumb freeze in its ministrations when the words settle. “I love you but…I need to love myself, too.”

“I understand,” he murmurs, a small smile on his face.

“I’m taking the job,” you declare solemnly, lips pressed into a thin line, “And—and I understand if you don’t want to wait—”

“I’ll wait,” he interjects immediately, voice firm, “No matter where you are, or where you go; I’ll wait.” Then, he grins at you so earnestly that you feel like, for once, everything could be okay. “I’m okay with loving you from afar, I’m okay with loving you up close. I’ll love you anywhere, and if I have to wait—I will. But don’t for a second think that I don’t want this because I do. I want this. I want it if it’s you.”

Yoongi’s words only earn him a choked response, your throat clamming up at how fervent he sounds. You can’t help the way your eyes turn glassy, feeling both content, and relieved when you feel Yoongi tug you a little closer, a little braver, almost as if the both of you had been waiting long enough to be able to indulge at this moment.

“I…” you swallow, “Haerin spoke to me. The night after you—” Yoongi nods, knowing what you mean. “Yeah. And…I didn’t know she felt that way, but I understand. I understand why she did what she did, and maybe I don’t really understand why you did what you did but…I don’t need to. I thought I needed answers but I don’t think it’ll change anything,” you say softly, eyes meeting him once more. “It won’t change what I need to do.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, committed.

“A year,” you squeak out in a blurt, mind reeling. “Give me a year.”

“What?”

“I love you now, you love me now,” you explain, rather timid, “But a year. Give me a year and—and we can do this. Properly. Or something.”

He smiles affectionately, tilting his head to the side when you feel your cheeks heat up at the way he was staring at you.

“A year,” he nods, “But what about now?”

You blink.

“Now?” you squeak.

He grins.

“Yoongi—” you say through a nervous stammer when he crowds you closer to the ledge, arms gripping his shoulder in alarm. Your head turns sideways and your peripheral vision catches the glimmer of water beneath the bridge, a distance all too close for your liking. “T-The ledge—I’ll fall over—!”

Yoongi’s arms wrap around your waist as your eyes blow out comically wide. All he does is smirk at you, back to his calm, suave self that your heart can’t help but flutter at. Now, somehow, you remember how devastatingly handsome he was in his suit, hair that exposes his forehead in all its glory.

“You think I’d let you fall?” he murmurs, never breaking eye contact with you when you gulp.

He was so close that you were basically perspiring in nerves in the chilly wind. You weren’t necessarily the nervous type but his eyes were so intent on making sure that you never looked away, and when you did, he searched every corner of the world to make sure he found his way back home.

“Can you stop?” you mutter under your breath, palms resting on his chest to establish some distance and control over this situation.

He chuckles a deep rumble that makes your stomach flutter. “Doing what? I’m making sure you don’t fall, am I not?”

“Just tell me what you mean,” you scowl, “And stop doing that.”

“Elaborate, please,” he says smugly, smiling widely as you attempt to muster a glare despite your burning cheeks.

“That!” you exasperate, palms digging into his chest as he offers a devilish smirk. “Stop being so mysterious and looking at me like—like—”

“Like?” he urges.

“Like that,” you supply lamely, voice dropping an octave as your eyes dart to the ground. “It makes me nervous.”

“Okay,” he shrugs, your head whipping up in response as you’re left stunned to see that he actually listened to you.

“What—?”

But this was Yoongi. Unreadable; spontaneous but safe. Confident. And you were so in love with him.

He spins you around so quickly that you yelp, slamming into his chest with an oof until he was the one that was pressed against the ledge while your weight was on him. His arm remains tight around your waist, moulding you to his body as your eyes flutter upwards, dumbfounded, confused and nervous.

“Yoongi, the ledge—!”

“I told you I won’t let you fall,” he whispers.

You smack him on the chest as you glare. “You know if you fall you’re taking me down with you?”

“But you’ll land on me,” he returns smoothly, pulling you impossibly closer until your noses are touching. “So, how about now?”

“What?” you squawk dumbly.

He shows you a lopsided grin, his thumb tilting your chin upwards until he assaults your personal space with his scent and being. It was so…nerve-wracking. Your heart was pounding against your chest, but you weren’t afraid. Not anymore.

“What can I do now if not in a year?” he hums slowly.

“I-I, um,” you stammer weakly, eyes blinking rapidly when he continues to administer a playful grin on his face. “You—now?—uh.”

“Now,” he grins with a teasing expression, “What can I do now?”

“You can—um,” you continue to gawk like an idiot, mind buffering when his confidence oozes out. “Whatever—whatever you want?”

“And if I want to kiss you?”

You squeak.

“Um.”

“Will you let me?” he asks softly, more firm, less teasing, but equally as serious.

“I-I mean,” you stutter, “I-If you want? I guess? L-Like—”

Yoongi shuts you up effectively. In the best way possible. His soft lips press against your own when he pulls your face towards him, all while tilting his own to allow himself to slot himself deeper against your lips. Your eyes are wide open in shock, hands losing feeling when you register what was going on.

A want from years, coming to fruition.

You’re stagnant, and Yoongi has to literally pinch your waist in order for you to fall into the rhythm of the kiss that he leads. Your eyes finally flutter shut, and you relax.

Now that you were sober, you register the plumpness of his lips, how warm it feels against your own, contrasted against the cold weather. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of; soft and desperate all at once, especially when he guides your hands to rest on his chest.

His hand cups your jaw and you feel light-headed when he pulls you even closer than before, bodies practically one against the ledge. All the fear of falling dissipates; the only one that remains is how exponentially fallen you were for this man.

You gasp when he provisionally licks the seam of your mouth, enough to insinuate the next move and for you to part your lips for him. All you could think of was Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi—completely forgetting that you were in public.

“I definitely couldn’t have waited a year for that,” he mumbles against your lips when he pulls away briefly only to catch the dazed look in your eyes.

“Oh,” you say breathlessly, clutching the fabric of his coat in your hands.

Pressing his tongue into your mouth with smooth finesse, you let out an unintentional whimper as you feel your knees buckle at how good this felt. Then, mortification washes over you when you hear him chuckle.

“So,” he pulls away, licking his lips as his eyes drop to your swollen ones. “What else can I do before the year?”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling unbelievably hot under his gaze.

“I mean,” you start off rather coyly, yet shy. “I know how I feel and I know how you feel so—”

“So…?” he smirks.

“Like,” you wave your hands around frustratedly as he stares at you with an amused grin, “You know! We can do stuff.”

“Hm,” he smiles, “Really? What kind?”

You gawk at him. “You—you know! I don’t need to spell it out for you?”

Then, briefly, you see the way his eyes darken before he’s pressing a hot kiss to your jaw that elicits a breathless mewl from you.

“Yoongi—”

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he croons teasingly.

You’re about to curse him out for making you feel so—so nervous, but another voice hollers out that it startles the both of you. Well, mostly you.

“Get a room!”

You flush, digging your head into his chest as you hear Yoongi rumble in laughter, arms wrapped around your back when he drags his fingertips up and down your clothed-covered spine.

“Shall we?” he says lowly after you’ve somewhat recovered from your embarrassment and pull away just enough to catch his half-lidded gaze.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, anticipating what’s to come.

Walking down the same hallway to Yoongi’s apartment has never felt so different.

The air is...heavier. Not in a suffocating way, but in the way that keeps you on your toes. You half-expected gropes in the elevator, desperate kisses pressed against each other’s body when you alighted—but there was none of that. You weren’t sure if Yoongi felt the way you did—like you were vibrating. Waiting for reprieve. Because he was as calm and collected as always.

When he leads you to the door, you stop him with a hand around his wrist, tentative.

He turns around with a raised brow and you swallow, forcing a neutral expression that hopefully didn’t give away your nerves.

“I…”

“You?” he smiles teasingly, twisting his wrist until it was his hand that wrapped around your own, thumb already rubbing a gentle circle to your knuckle.

“What are we…” you trail off, heat rushing to your ears as he waits for you with impeccable patience and an unwavering stare. You force the words out despite your embarrassment. “What are we doing?”

“Entering my apartment,” he replies smoothly, thumbing in his keycode as you scowl.

“I mean,” you swallow, “What are we doing at your apartment?”

Yoongi blinks, head tilting as he observes your face. He doesn’t say anything. He just smiles, a soft tilt to his lips before he shakes his head. The door is halfway open and you feel your heart rattling against your chest. There’s something about the way that he’s looking at you that makes you squirm.

Did he always look like this?

“Patience, hm?” he hums, then a hand is loosely wrapping around your jaw so softly that you find yourself captivated with how his eyes lower to meet your gaze. You expect a kiss, a press to your lips, but there’s nothing but a hushed whisper when you clutch the lapel of his shirt. “We have all night.”

Your breath hitches, and then Yoongi’s pulling away all too soon. You find yourself furiously blushing and you almost curse at yourself for being so—pliant. But weren’t you always like this for Yoongi? If he says, you do? If he leads, you follow? Your heart was his, after all. Even in the silence.

You’re eager. More so than you’d allow yourself to be at the risk of embarrassing yourself but Yoongi only laughs when you hurriedly push him into his own apartment.

Something clicks and both of your heads turn to see his neighbour, a sweet old lady, peeking her head out.

You think you’ve been caught, ready to throw an apology but all she does is smile.

“Finally,” she grins.

You blink, confused. But Yoongi wraps his large palm over your own and tugs you in with a knowing smile to the old lady.

“Finally,” he breathes, looking over at you before she’s waving—and her door shuts.

“What was that?” you ask softly.

Yoongi slips off his coat first, throwing a half-lidded gaze at you when you rock on the balls of your feet. This wasn’t like you...being so...shy. But love made you feel and do funny things, didn’t it?

“Mrs Lee is a sweet lady,” he explains, intertwining his fingers with your own as you find yourself suppressing noise of protest. Mostly at how every little thing is making your puny heart flutter. “We’ve had a lot of chats.”

“Oh?” you say dumbly, especially when he crowds into you, the gentle smile of his never leaving his face when all you see and feel is Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi.

“She gives great advice,” he continues, squeezing your hand as your eyes dart to the ground. God, why couldn’t you just look at him? “Told me to stop running away.”

“Oh,” you say again, lamely.

“Why aren’t you looking at me?”

You freeze.

“I’d like to see your face when I’m talking to you,” he whispers softly, and it’s not patronising in the slightest. Only earnest. And you feel your heart seize against your chest when he squeezes your hand again; as if to tell you: he was here.

You force away from the flustered feeling in your chest and look up at him, and you almost yelp at how close the two of you were.

“See? Beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning closer until you were pressed against the wall of his entrance.

“Don’t say that,” you snap weakly, eyes darting away when he smirks.

“Why not?” he taunts, “Nervous?”

“No. It’s weird,” you say snootily, digging your foot into the ground as he laughs. It’s soft, and his body shakes. Then, he finally releases your hand to step away. You think you’ve said the wrong thing until he traces his eyes all over your body—not insinuating anything, but simply observing.

“Nothing weird about a man ravishing a beautiful woman,” he replies smoothly, and your knees almost buckle at the sheer confidence he said it in.

“God, I never knew you were this bad,” you gawk, hiding your blazing cheeks with a scowl as he shrugs nonchalantly.

“There’s nothing to run away from now, is there?”

A smile threatens itself onto your face as you attempt to level your expression as if you weren’t feeling giddy at everything. The way he was looking at you. The air of the room. How he’s gentle when he steps closer. How you love him. And how he loves you.

“So, a year?” he chuckles, multitasking as he has you trapped against the wall in his hallway, practically undressing you with his eyes but with a tone far too casual with what his actions insinuate.

You flush.

“It’s just—you know! Long-distance is tricky a-and I need time to think!” you huff.

“Hm,” he hums, “You’ve got time for this, then?”

You glare at him when he slots himself against your body, hands growing more daring by the second as they slip off your coat until it hits the floor.

“You’re speaking as if you aren’t into this too,” you snap petulantly, albeit breathless when his hands find purchase on the expanse of your waist.

“Oh, I am, love,” he lilts, “I didn’t make the proposition, though.”

“If you don’t want to you can just say—!” you scowl, being interrupted as one of his hands lightly travel up the side of your waist, to the juncture of your collarbone; then finally cupping your jaw until he forces you to peer up at him despite your narrowed glare.

“I’m teasing,” he smirks, “I need to know if you can take it.”

His low, sultry voice knocks the breath out of you, notably paired with his sensuous eyes.

“I,” you stammer, nerves heightened when he leans in even closer, forcing the base of your spine to the wall when his other hand presses your hips backwards. “Um, I—yes?”

“Are you asking or telling?” he asks with a raised brow, the thumb on your hip rubbing circles against your hip bone.

The way he’s touching you makes your mind blank. Your jumpsuit is still intact (unfortunately, but you hope it won’t be in the near future), and Yoongi hasn’t done anything remarkable but you’re embarrassingly worked up. Yoongi doesn’t need to do much to have your breath hitching, and even the most insubstantial contact was able to stimulate the flush of your skin.

In fact, if things were done your way you’d already be in Yoongi’s bedroom and sucking him dry if you could. Whatever position he’d have you in, you’ll mould yourself to be the pretty little thing he wants you to be—but that isn’t the case. The case was: Yoongi’s staring at you, intimately. A tease; gauging your every minuscule reaction as if he was collecting data to bring you to your demise.

You shudder at the thought.

“Asked you a question,” he murmurs, squeezing your jaw ever so lightly that a small gasp gets stuck in the base of your throat.

“Yes,” you breathe, “I can take it.”

“What can you take?” he pries further, and you’re borderline agitated at how his hands are on you but not on you.

(Your outfit should’ve been haphazardly discarded, but here it was—un-discarded.)

“Fuck, just—what’s taking you so long?” you whine, “Everything. Just touch me, Yoongi.”

Yoongi smirks, the corner of his lips lifting into a devious grin that has you preening. He presses his thumb harder into your hip bone, enough for you to be plastered against the wall while his thigh slides in between your ever-slightly parted legs.

“I’m touching you right here,” he muses, rubbing your hip bone once more, and squeezing your jaw.

“You know what I mean,” you say snappishly, hands desperately tugging his shirt in hopes of ripping it off.

His hands stop you before you can get too far, and his gaze a warning.

“Patience,” he says. “I want to drag this out as long as I possibly can.”

“Literally for what. You have a woman in your home and you’re not just going to fuck her senseless? What is the point—?”

“You think I won’t fuck you senseless because I’m taking my time?” he says lowly, hand tracing down your throat as you gulp, eyes following his hand when it travels to your hips. Then, his voice drops another octave that has your legs nearly giving out. “You think I’m gonna rush and not savour Every. Single. Fucking. Reaction I’m going to get out of your pretty little mouth?”

“Y-Yoongi,” you choke breathlessly, baring your neck at him when your head tilts backwards.

“Sound so pretty for me,” he croons. “So yeah, I’m gonna drag this out as long as possible because I didn’t wait for years just for it to end in an hour.”

Your eyes widen at the implication: an hour? That was what Yoongi considered a rush?

“Tell me how you like it, love,” he asks softly, “Slow?” He punctuates his words with a heated kiss to your jaw as you whimper, then: “Hard?” The word is paired with a bite to the flesh before he soothes it with his tongue. If it weren’t for his firm grip on your hips, you were sure you’d drop. “Messy?”

“Please,” you beg, unsure of what you were asking for but that was the only word travelling through your mind.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, softer, hands tracing up to your waist until it reaches right below your ribcage, “As much as I’m loving the view, the wall doesn’t serve as a good spot for what I want to do to you.”

His words are accompanied by a taunting smirk, pulling away as you immediately chase his touch. You’re borderline mortified at how desperate you seem because you’ve never been this way before. So needy for touch that you were on the verge of dropping onto your knees and begging for reprieve.

But despite how much you were secretly enjoying this situation, you didn’t want Yoongi to see you break just yet. So, you do what any sane person (or, insane) would do, and tug him closer by his tie until his chest practically slams against your own before you’re fervently closing the distance between your lips.

You manage to catch Yoongi off guard just a little, ignoring his request as you attempt to break the barrier through his lips with your own appendage.

Then, he pulls away, hand tugging your neck backward until you were practically peering up at his formidable gaze.

“Didn’t I tell you to be patient?” he whispers lowly, threateningly.

“Yoongi please—”

He ignores you by wrapping his arms around your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder with absolute ease as you yelp, hands clambering down to his back as you attempt to balance yourself. If anything, you were expecting discipline, not—this.

“What the—?”

“Knew you wouldn’t give me an easy time,” he scoffs, walking towards—to where you think—his bedroom as you gasp at his jibe.

“Excuse me?” you hiss, “If you’re going to take me home then you might as well do it properly!”

He kicks his door open with his foot before dropping you down onto the surface of his mattress, rather politely despite the mean aura that radiates off of him at this very moment. He’s still caring enough to ensure you weren’t jostled completely, even if you had no qualms with it—but his gaze tells you enough that he wasn’t here to play.

“I’m taking you home, all right,” he says with a raised brow, standing over you as you lean back on your elbows.

“You know, you’re talking a lot for someone who seems to have a problem with the one-year thing,” you say dryly.

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, undeterred, and you realise that he wasn’t like the men you slept with in the past. You didn’t sleep around that much, but you had your own needs. He was confident, assured, and he didn’t need to explain himself to let you know just what he was capable of. It was his quiet sense of confidence that had your belly churning in anticipation, and your core heating up in desire.

“No problem here,” he shrugs casually, a little too casual for someone who you really want to fuck your brains out. “If anything, it sounds like you have a problem with it if you can’t even wait a few minutes.”

You scowl, glaring at him as you shift on his bed. “Are you usually this mean when you’re about to sleep with someone?”

“Only for you, love,” he grins.

The chit-chat is over when he crowds over you, dominance in his form as you gaze up at him with yearning eyes. His hands travel up and down your sides as if memorising you to memory before he leans down to capture your lips in a soft, desiring kiss.

Your arms instinctually wrap around his neck when he presses a hand to the mattress by the side of your head, moving in tandem with him as he guides the kiss. It’s just the right amount of sexy and messy that you adore, feeling the way his tongue teasingly licks against the seam of your mouth to part it. When he breaches that barrier, he kisses with absolute finesse. It’s calculated in the best sense, painting his love in every corner he possibly can.

There’s something oddly erotic about just kissing someone. He nibbles on your lips, eliciting a breathy gasp from you, taking his time before he pulls away—a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“I could kiss you all day,” he says breathily, lips red and plump with the proof of both of your efforts.

“Another,” you echo his breathlessness, and Yoongi shoots you a devastating smile before he’s trailing down your body, hands already working on the side of your jumpsuit where the zip lies.

“Can I?” Ever the gentlemen, Yoongi doesn’t move until he gets a verbal response from you, not enough with the nod of your head.

“Please,” you croak.

Yoongi takes his time in drawing your zip downwards, and his eyes remain on your face the entire time. You feel shy under his scrutiny but his gentle smile comforts you. You still couldn’t believe that you were here, in his bed, not because he was taking care of you (in the PG13 way) but because he wanted you.

Yoongi loved you.

The thought makes your heart soar, and only when he reaches the end of your zip are you brought back to reality.

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes drifting to your chest when he pulls down the top half of your jumpsuit to expose your—well, nothing.

“Yoongi,” you mumble shyly, hands reaching out to cover your chest when he continues to gape at you with a parted mouth.

“Shit,” he curses, and your eyes briefly fall to his pants and notice the tent in his jeans.

Your eyes widen, but you don’t think he catches it. What you do catch, however, is how massive the outline of his cock was under his slacks. You didn’t even know if he was fully hard yet, but the thought only sends a shiver down your spine if he wasn’t. Because if he wasn’t—then how big was he?

Would you even be able to take it?

God, you really fucking wanted him.

Then, Yoongi leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth before you can protest. You gasp, hands immediately travelling to his hair to tug at it when he doesn’t let up. He flicks and licks against the hardening bud, eager to paint every inch of your skin with his breath and spit as you feel yourself grow even more eager; wetness practically sopping your panties.

“Your tits are a sin,” he growls, massaging the other as your eyes travel to the ceiling, biting your lips to keep your whimpers at bay.

This doesn’t seem to please Yoongi.

“Don’t you dare keep quiet,” he threatens, pulling away with a plop before he gives a pinch to your other nipple, earning a mixture of a mewl and a yelp from you.

“Y-Your neighbours—”

“You sure as hell didn’t mind at the gala,” he snarls.

You blank for a split second, and you realise what he was referring to.

“So you were eavesdropping!”

As you’re topless, wet and unbelievably horny, you would never pass on a chance to call Yoongi out.

Yoongi shoots you an unimpressed look before towering over you with a menacing gaze in his eye.

“And if I was?”

“T-Then—” Then what? The fact that Yoongi had heard your moans only makes the heat in your core grow stronger, your arousal further staining your panties.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, unimpressed before he’s hovering above you and tugging the rest of your jumpsuit down your body, exposing your relatively risqué panties and your legs to him.

Yoongi looks at you with devout hunger in his eyes, tracing over every curve of your body and on the pretty little triangle between your legs. Your chest is still heaving in exertion and anticipation, and you were uncomfortably and embarrassingly wet when Yoongi has yet to truly dive into you.

“What’s your limit?”

The question comes up after his blatant and desirous ogling as you struggle to find your tongue, confused with the question.

“What?”

“What’s your limit?” he repeats, grabbing a pillow from behind you before he’s lifting your hips up and settling it beneath your lower back. The way he handles you; moves you around like you were pliant only makes the desire grow stronger and anxious for more.

“I don’t understand,” you frown.

Then, he drags you to the edge of the bed, hopping off only to kneel in between your legs as your eyes widen. He looks in-between your thighs, licking his lips likely at the dampened patch of your arousal before he’s looking up again, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“How many orgasms?”

You splutter. “W-What?”

“Four? Five?”

You choke on your own spit at his nonchalance. “Five? Are you fucking crazy?”

“So, four,” he nods, then he’s wrapping his forearms around your thighs and spreading your thighs until they are obscenely wide open.

Yoongi’s still fully dressed, his dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves in a way that was unfairly attractive. You were almost stark naked and he was still done in clothing, and you like it. You like the disparity between the two of you that’s somehow always existed. The way he’s collected and calm, while you were collateral in every way possible.

“I can’t do four,” you manage to choke out, deadpanning.

“Cute,” he snorts, as if he doesn’t believe you, “We’ll see about that.”

“Yoongi, you’ll break me,” you breathe.

“That’s the plan,” he says smugly before he’s diving in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your covered clit.

“O-Oh,” you squeak, feeling the way he licks over your swollen clit, ever so lightly, dulled with the barrier of your panties. You don’t know where to look: at the ceiling, or at the mop of hair between your legs.

“So one on my tongue, one on my fingers,” he narrates as if he was listing out his grocery list. You’re dizzy with the way he continues to wet the fabric with his tongue, holding you into place as you squirm at the contact. “One with my tongue and fingers; then finally on my cock.”

Fuck.

“Seems like a yes to me,” he smirks, referring to the way your wetness oozes out at his cocksure tone.

Yoongi presses one last kiss directly onto your clit before pulling away as you whine in displeasure. But he’s quick to placate you when he replaces his kisses with his hands, tugging your panties down your ties and hooking the back of your knees over his shoulders before carelessly tossing the fabric elsewhere.

Then, he has you carnally spread out, cunt on full display as he growls when his eyes divert to between your legs. Flustered, you attempt to clamp them shut, but Yoongi’s brutish strength prevents you from getting any further; only wrapping his arms around your thighs once more and having you splay out for him.

“Yoongi,” you gasp.

“How pretty,” he coos, inching closer as you squirm, both anticipatory and nervous. “And wet.”

“No shit,” you say weakly.

He raises a brow before he looks up to you with a coy smirk.

“Safeword?”

Your eyes bulge out of your sockets.

“Um,” you hesitate, cheeks flushing when his eyes flicker down to your pussy once again as if he couldn’t resist. “Peanut.”

“Peanut,” he nods, “Tap me three times if you can’t speak,” he says easily and you feel the hairs stand on your arms.

Oh, you were in for a ride.

Before you can voice out anything, Yoongi decides to spare you the extended wait as he dives in, licking a stripe up your cunt as you feel his tongue briefly caress your bundle of nerves. A choked gasp leaves your lips, your hands intuitively making a home of his hair as you tug at the strands. He doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, Yoongi seems to revel in the harsh way you jolt in pleasure when he focuses the tip of his tongue in dragging over your clit.

Yoongi licks and sucks on your clit like he was parched and your pussy was the only water source available. He doesn’t tease, which you’re thankful for. Instead, he moulds your pussy tightly against his face until he is practically covered with it—wetness smearing all across his nose, cheeks and chin.

“Taste so good, sweetheart,” he grunts against your pussy, the vibration immediately sending shockwaves up your spine.

“F-Fuck, Yoongi,” you mewl in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut when he relentlessly circles and sucks on your clit. Your mind was completely blank. The only thing you could think about was how good it feels—and you almost curse the heavens above because how dare they make Yoongi stupidly hot and good at head?

The pressure easily builds up in your lower abdomen with the way Yoongi focuses all his effort on your clit. He’s smart and tactful like that, almost as if he knew you were a sucker for clit stimulation above anything else. Or, maybe it was because it was him you were finding yourself unravelling embarrassingly quicker than usual.

“Wanna hear you,” he murmurs against your cunt, obsidian eyes peering up just as you make eye contact with him.

You’re fucked. Absolutely fucked because it’s barely been a few minutes and you feel close, your clit is throbbing underneath his devilish tongue when it flicks at rapid speed against your bundle of nerves. The sound is obscene, the wetness of your pussy against the natural slick of his saliva mixed together echoes against his bedroom walls.

“Oh fuck,” you sob, roughly tugging at his hair when he pulls away ever so briefly to let a glob of spit drop onto your cunt, then diving back in and giving it one, extended suck that has your back arching off the pillow he set beneath you. “Yoon—fuck—oh oh oh I’m gonna—fuck!”

Your legs quiver by the side of his face when he chuckles darkly, pulling you closer until you are barely hanging off the edge of his bed. Yoongi doesn’t stop; doesn’t let you breathe when he continues to suck on your clit while his tongue rapidly flicks over the swollen pearl.

You feel it, you feel so close. You feel your head getting lighter, you feel your stomach clenching, you feel the white, hot pleasure encase your body, ready to snap when your body convulses at how hard Yoongi’s slurping at your pussy—

Then it stops.

It’s a horrible feeling, and you show that. You cry; actual tears form at the corner of your eyes when your head flicks up to see Yoongi’s smug grin on his face.

“What the fuck,” you hiss, blinking through your tears even if the way your wetness is smeared across the bottom half of his face is crazily hot.

“I told you,” he grins, “I’m gonna drag it out as long as possible.”

“Yoongi, please,” you beg, fingers still tangled in his hair as you attempt to push him back to where he was. Now, your pussy only throbs in the aftershocks of your almost orgasm and you were dripping wet.

Your wetness has dripped down your ass, you could feel it. It’s smeared against your inner thighs to a point where the non-contact almost made it feel uncomfortable. You glare at Yoongi, frustrated beyond belief when he continues to drum his fingers against your thighs as if he hadn’t just robbed you from a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Hm?” he hums playfully, squeezing the flesh of your thighs as you whimper, “What was that, love?”

Love my foot, you think to yourself, squirming under his stronghold.

“Please,” you plead breathlessly, “I want to come.”

“But you look so pretty like this,” he purrs, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your sensitive clit as you jump, hips immediately chasing his mouth when he pulls away. “Legs spread wide, pussy dripping; squirming under my touch,” he hums, then he takes one of his hands before spreading your lips open—earning a gasp from you.

“Just make me come!” you demand indignantly, thwarted beyond belief. “Or were you bullshitting that four orgasms bit because at this rate I just think you’re all talk and no—!”

You used to call yourself the Master of Riling Yoongi Up. Because you, in fact, were.

So, maybe you were being a little bratty on purpose. Maybe you were pulling shit out of your ass because you were that desperate to come. But who could blame you when Yoongi looked so damned delectable and was ready to devour your pussy whole?

Yoongi shuts you up immediately when he lifts your bottom half off the bed, earning a squeak from you before he’s burying his head in-between your legs once more. This time, he goes even quicker than before. His nose is pressed tightly against your pelvis as you were almost concerned if it weren’t for the fact that he adds a little nibble onto your clit that has you wailing in pleasure at the sudden contact.

“Y-Yoongi—nghhhhh, y-you’re—oh oh fuck holy shit—oh my—fuck!” you warble absolute incoherencies when he flicks his tongue against your swollen clit, feeling the way the hot appendage attempts to cool the absolute heat the swollen bud was radiating. Your fingers dig into his hair, then into the mattress, then back to his hair—then your tits—everywhere, because you could barely contain your limbs at how fucking good Yoongi was with his mouth and tongue.

“Wanna come?” he taunts, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs as your back arches further than how it’s lifted up in mid-air. “Gonna come for me, love?”

“Yes yes yes, oh God, fuck yes,” you sob, feeling the tears escape your eyes when your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your stomach is unwinding at a breakneck speed, your legs trembling as your entire body shakes at the force of the pleasure Yoongi gives you. Nothing passes your mind except for coming coming coming when he pushes a bit deeper, sucking your bud into his mouth once more—

Then finally, you come.

You come loudly and messily, body jolting and convulsing as Yoongi continues with flicking his tongue against your clit through your orgasm. Your hearing rings when you come, gasping for air as your fingers clutch tightly around the strands of his obsidian locks. Your orgasm is all too long and all too short and all too good. You can barely catch your breath when it subsides, and Yoongi’s staring at you with a hunger that makes you desire him even more.

When Yoongi pulls away from your bottom half, it’s to admire your panting state, and it’s with your slick smeared all across the bottom half of his face. You can barely look at him because you feel limp, fucked out, and it sends shivers down your spine when you realise he’s just getting started.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of this,” he hisses slowly, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh as you jolt, loosely carding your hand through his hair as your gaze meets his own. His eyes are dark when he parts your folds to expose your sensitive cunt to him, lewd when the squelch permeates the air. “Nothing could ever come close to the real thing.”

“Yoongi…” you mumble shyly, attempting to snap your legs shut, but to no avail when he holds it open.

“Another,” he declares, determined. “Another. You can give me another.”

What else can you do, but let him?

Yoongi dives back in like he’s never known another alternative. This time, he takes the first lick as if he was devouring each crevice of your body, allowing the taste of your heady scent to melt onto his tongue. He groans, the vibration sending tingles up your spine and causing your still sensitive cunt to pulse around nothing.

A hand joins in, pulling apart your lips before circling your clit as you gasp. No one has paid this much attention to your body, ever. When you peer down, Yoongi’s gathering your wetness with his index finger and prodding your hole.

“Please,” you beg breathlessly, squirming when he holds you down.

“You’ll get my fingers soon, sweetheart,” he croons, pressing a kiss to the hood of your clit as you jump, a mewl already stuck in your throat.

The only thing on your mind is the way that Yoongi caresses you so...tenderly. Yet, his fingers trace your skin like it was the only canvas he’s ever known. If it weren’t for the expectancy in your belly, you’d shy away under his intent touch—but there was a fire in you that only Yoongi could put out.

Finally, Yoongi breaches the first barrier and you gasp. It’s just a finger yet it has you keen for more.

Yoongi’s a doctor. He understands anatomy both intimately and theoretically. He needed to. But you don’t think they teach med students the art of a woman’s intimates, at least for the bedroom. Yet, Yoongi navigates his way in your pussy with expert finesse, going knuckle deep with no rush on him as if he’s got all the time in the world.

“So warm,” he murmurs, leaning down to suckle at your clit as your legs twitch by the side of his face in oversensitivity. When he looks up with his dark eyes, you feel your stomach clenching yet again. “How do you like it, hm?”

“I-I…” The words die on your tongue because another finger joins the one in your cunt, and it immediately curls upwards, the tip of his fingers dragging against the spongy spot within you. You weren’t going to come out of this alive. “Fuck. I-I don’t—know?”

You did. Whatever the fuck Yoongi was doing—you liked it. And you let him know by clutching his bicep, abruptly sitting up to take the force of the way he pistons his fingers in your pussy.

“Oh oh—nghhhh!” you gasp incoherencies when Yoongi tugs you closer to him, mouth working quickly on your sensitive nub as his fingers never falter.

“Gonna come for me again?” he grunts against your clit, and you nod your head vigorously even if he can’t see it.

Yoongi’s fingers are so long and thick that you feel him everywhere. You’ve dreamt about his fingers many times, the digits haunting your fantasies whenever your brain would trail off elsewhere. They were just so manly. And veiny. And good. And—

“Oh fuck,” you sob, clamping your legs around his head when he gives a hard, purposeful suck on your clit paired with a firm press against your g-spot.

The force of your second orgasm takes you by surprise and you’re practically boneless by the end of it. Yoongi takes everything you give him, the way you cum and the way tears form at the corner of your eyes. Even if he can’t breathe with how hard you’re squeezing around your head, his fingers never falter in their ministrations as he fucks you through your orgasm.

It’s lewd and wet—the way your cunt squelches so loudly with each thrust his fingers take. You don’t think you’ve been this wet in your entire life, but the specifics don’t matter when Yoongi looks absolutely taken with the way you fall apart for him.

You gasp, panting when you come down from your high, your nails unintentionally digging into his shoulder as it leaves crescent dents in the crease of his shirt.

“W-Where the fuck did you learn how to do that,” you croak, earning a laugh from Yoongi when he helps you sit up, his body in-between your legs as he remains kneeled on the floor.

“Don’t worry about it,” he smirks.

In the midst of your post-orgasm stupor, you realise he’s still fully dressed while you were completely bare. His hair is sticking in every direction possible and his lips are flushed red and swollen, the aftermath of how dedicated he was to your cunt.

There was something so sexy about the nonchalance that marks Yoongi. As if he didn’t give you two mind-blowing orgasms in a row that still has your legs and entire body shaking. You needed to do something. To touch him. To feel him.

Before he can say anything, you’re pulling him in by his tie and smashing your lips against his own.

Yoongi steadies the both of you when the force of your kiss almost sends you tumbling backwards. His hand has a tight grip on your waist, squeezing the flesh when you immediately lick into his mouth with a desperate mewl. Catching Yoongi off guard, you tug him up onto the bed so that you were able to straddle him, bare and all.

“Sweetheart,” he laughs lowly at your eagerness, especially when your clumsy fingers tug at the buttons of his dress shirt.

“Why are you wearing clothes,” you grunt, barely able to slip the fabric off. He laughs, again, and then his hand is catching your wrist with an expression of a raised brow.

“Slow down,” he murmurs, bringing your hand to his lips before kissing on your knuckle, the gesture making your heart flutter. “We’ve got all night.”

You flush, and Yoongi only smiles at you in a way that makes you feel assured. When you calm down and manage your eagerness, only do you realise that your hands were mildly shaking—likely out of nerves. If Yoongi notices, he doesn’t say anything. He simply allows you to have your way with him when you’re perched atop of him, thighs by the side of his own with your wetness dripping onto his slacks.

Only when you were properly perched on his lap rather than hovering above it, do you feel the outline of his cock against your thigh. You gasp, finding the instinct to just roll your hips forward to chase that delicious friction of the rough material of his slacks against your core.

But as if Yoongi has read your mind, his hand rests on your hips, fingers digging into flesh: a warning.

“Only my shirt,” he cautions, and you gulp at the tone he takes.

You oblige immediately, unbuttoning each button as his hands rest behind him, watching your every move. You felt so...seen. Not exposed. But seen; with the way his eyes never leave your face despite your body being bare. There’s no rush to his gaze; nothing about it tells you to go faster, or chides on your fumbling fingers—he just stares.

You make your way to the last button, the broad expanse of his chest slowly being exposed to you as you nearly salivate. You felt like you were seeing a man naked for the first time, even if it’s just Yoongi. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him shirtless before because he never liked to get shirtless in front of others.

But when he helps you slip the fabric off his shoulders, you melt.

“Close your mouth,” he teases, finger teasing the underside of your chin as you gape at his exposed upper half.

“You’re so broad,” you marvel, hands shakily trailing over his chest as you see him keep a shudder to himself. “You’re so…”

“Hm?” he hums, wrapping an arm around your waist as he moulds your body against his own, nipples pressed against his chest as you gasp at the intimacy of it all.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blabber, words failing you when you blink up at him. Then, like a woman possessed, you take the first grind against his slacks, hips already stuttering when the fabric drags across your clit.

“Two orgasms not enough for you, sweetheart?” he chuckles deeply, drumming his fingers against your waist as you groan into his neck.

“You promised me four so I want four,” you demand indignantly.

“Be nice,” he tuts and you pout. Then, feeling devious, your hand reaches down to cup him over his slacks and you feel his entire body go rigid.

“I said be nice,” he grits out, warning you with a tick to his brow as you smirk at him.

“No fair,” you complain, though it’s mostly teasing. A ruse to rile him up. “I wanna touch you too.”

Expecting something similar to a frown, or a displeased expression that excites you more than you’d like to admit, all you’re met with is a soft expression, and his gentle hand moving you away from his pants.

“I want this to be about you.”

Your breath hitches, and you feel Yoongi’s hand bring your chin closer to his face before he’s giving you another soft, slow and gentle kiss. You immediately melt to him and you feel your heart explode in your chest. It’s almost as if your heart had a mind of its own and it belonged to Yoongi. Every little action or reaction was because of him—for him.

When he pulls away, there’s a small smile on his face when he traces over your features.

“I promised you four, didn’t I?” he murmurs.

Before you can respond, his hand trails down your neck—featherlight—before cupping your tits in his large palm, squeezing the flesh as you gasp, feeling the goosebumps rise. He’s both gentle and rough when he tugs on your nipple; his mouth quickly occupying your other tit as you arch your chest into his awaiting mouth.

“Y-Yoongi—” you mewl, arms wrapping around his neck as you hold onto him for support. The only way you weren’t a pile of mush on the floor was because of the firm and strong arm wrapped around your waist for support.

“I love every single part of your body,” he whispers onto the flesh of your breast, his tongue darting out to drag over your sensitive nipple as your breathing gets more laboured.

“Stop making…” you protest weakly, “Stop making me feel this way.”

“Like?” he smiles, fingers pinching your bud as you let out a cry of pleasure. Your words fail you, and Yoongi’s there to save you. “Like you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted?”

You shiver when his hand leaves your breast to trail down your stomach, painting each quadrant of your skin with a light-fingered touch that sets you ablaze.

“Like you’re the centrepiece to a museum?” he continues, and his thumb is rubbing against your hip bone again. Your mind is reeling and the night is nowhere near over. God, how would you survive? “Like this is everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more?”

“Yoongi…” you stammer shyly, “I-I…”

“Just because I never said this before doesn’t mean it was never true,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss right over your heart as you feel yourself hold onto him tighter. “There’s nothing else truer than this.”

Finally, his finger reaches your folds yet again, tracing a digit through your wetness as he tuts, almost mocking. His sweetness is replaced with a taunting smirk, but you don’t feel berated. You thrive off the look Yoongi’s giving you. As if he wanted you to ravish you whole—and he does.

“Gonna make it fit,” he whispers against your neck as your eyes widen.

Without another second wasted, he plunges two fingers into your sopping cunt, already relatively prepped as you fall into his chest and hold. You gasp when he immediately starts thrusting into your pussy, unrelenting when he moulds you impossibly closer.

“F-Fuck Y-Yoongi!” you cry, “I-It’s too—much!”

“That’s the only way I’ll fit, sweetheart,” he explains through a grunt, proving his effort in battering your pussy raw. It was all too much, but it was so so good.

“W-What kind of monster cock are you hiding?” you hiss, earning a laugh from Yoongi when you let out a strangled moan as he hits your g-spot, over and over again.

“Just let it happen,” he coos softly before he slips the third finger in.

Fuck. It burns. But it burns so good. The way the girth of his fingers was already more impressive than anyone else you’ve been with but also because this was Yoongi.

“FFffuuuucccckkkk,” you groan, feeling your pussy clench unrhythmically around his digits.

“You’re soaking my pants, love,” he chuckles darkly, his other arm pulling you so close that it was hard to breathe in all the right ways.

“I-I’m gonna—!” you cry, falling limp into his grasp as he has you rutting into his hand, chasing your orgasm like it was the only thing you were made to do.

When it hits, you practically drop into his hold, the only thing keeping you upright is his grasp. You cum, wet and loud as you let out a moan so unfamiliar to your own ears. Your head is spinning and Yoongi leaves his fingers in you for you to ride your orgasm out yourself. You barely register the praise that leaves Yoongi’s lips when you do, more focused on how fucking good and much it feels.

“I…” You’re loose-lipped and exhausted. But you remember. The night wasn’t over, and when you blink wearily at the man above you—he’s only smiling.

“You good?” he asks, softly.

“N..Never better…” you croak, telling the complete truth. You were always a little touchy after your orgasms and Yoongi just gave you three. So, you wrap your arms around him and give him a wet kiss to his neck, toppling the both of you onto the bed as you hover above him with dreamy eyes.

“We can call it a night,” he says gently, hand tracing up your spine. You almost gawk at him because you felt every inch of his hardness pressed against you, and you know it must’ve been painful. But Yoongi’s self-control wasn’t anything new, and if anything, it only made him so much more attractive that he’d been holding out for this long.

“No,” you say with a vigorous shake of your head, “I want you. Please.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he says with a soft grin, “We can go to—”

“Yoongi,” you say seriously, cupping his face in your hands as his eyes widen. You take a deep breath before the next set of words come pouring out of your mouth. “I’ve waited years for you to tell me you loved me. I don’t want to wait for another second for you to fuck me.”

He gawks at you, and you raise a brow as a challenge. You would never not rile Yoongi up.

“Or was that talk about four orgasms all bullshit?”

Yoongi stares at you. Hard. He doesn’t push you down onto the bed like you expected he would. Mostly because he’s Yoongi. He’s calm, collected—unperturbed. He has everything planned out in his head and you were the pawn in his game.

And oh, how you loved it.

Instead of anything else, he asks: “Are you clean?”

“Am I—?”

“Because if I’m going to fuck you I’m going to make sure it ends with my cum stuffed in you,” he says darkly, crowding closer to you as you remain perched on his lap, his arm squeezing around your waist in a warning.

You feel your pussy flutter awake yet again, and you think it’s a new record with how willing you were to go about these four orgasms. You never thought you could because even now, you felt exhausted. But there was something about the determined glint in Yoongi’s eyes that made you want to do it. For him.

“I am,” you say with an impressive amount of balance despite your erratic heartbeat. “I have an IUD so…” Your fingers trail down his chest as he watches the digits stop right in between his pecs. “Go for your life.”

“Get on the bed,” he demands, brow knitted and jaw clenched.

You hide your cheeky grin, excited as you immediately get onto your knees, sticking your ass up in all its glory for Yoongi. You hear some shuffling behind you and you turn your head out of curiousity because you didn’t want to miss seeing Yoongi’s cock out.

When you do, you see him gripping his length in his hands, and his hands have the audacity to look small in comparison.

You pale, “Oh no fucking way.”

He raises a brow.

“You didn’t tell me you had a third leg!” you cry.

“I told you I’d make it fit, didn’t I?” he responds calmly, jerking himself off so slowly as he lets out a hiss under his breath. It was so hot that you were distracted by the monster in between his legs as you found your cunt pulsing around nothing.

“I’m not going to be able to walk,” you say breathlessly as Yoongi crowds closer.

“Again,” he says with a low baritone, “That was the plan.”

You feel him drag his cockhead against your slit as you gasp, fingers clutching his mattress cover before it nudges against the tip of your clit, earning a mewl from you.

Just as you think Yoongi’s about to slip in, a hand rests on your hip, ever so gently, before he turns you around so that your back was pressed to his bed.

“What—?”

“I wanna see your face,” he whispers, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips at the same time his cock is hotly pressed against the slick on your thigh.

The gesture is a slight juxtaposition to your previous motions, especially when his kiss was driven by tenderness and fondness when his eyes trace over your face.

“Didn’t take you for a missionary guy,” you say, breathless in a way to mask the butterflies in your stomach.

“It’s just a position,” he tells you with a roll of his eyes.

“Just a position,” you snort, eyes glinting with mischief.

Despite the clear wetness in-between your legs, you appreciate that it feels the same with Yoongi. That there’s no tiptoeing or carefulness between the two of you. There’s a little recklessness, a little spite—and everything you’ve always loved about him.

“You don’t think so?” he murmurs lowly, peppering kisses against your jaw as you sigh.

“Don’t guys do better from the back?” you say off-handedly.

Yoongi stills, mouth hovering above your collarbone when your lax words settle into the air. There’s a challenge in your eyes that he readily accepts with a slight tick of his jaw.

Instead, he says: “Do they?”

“Yeah,” you insist, drawing him closer by the chain around his neck. “They do.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he agrees and you’re surprised that he isn’t putting up a fight. Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, and then Yoongi leans in. His mouth is precariously positioned above your ear, and you feel goosebumps prick at your skin.

“Never been with a guy who’d admit that,” you giggle nervously.

“You know why, love?” he smirks, and suddenly his voice is much lower; deeper.

“Why?” you exhale, barring your neck when he nips on the lobe of your ear.

“It’s because…” he purrs, “It doesn’t matter what position I have you in. I’m going to make you cum all over my cock like it’s the only thing you were made to do.”

Oh.

“When I sink into your cunt, it’s gonna be better than good,” he smirks as you gasp, fingers tightening around his bicep. “All those boys before me? They only knew how to fuck you one way,” he murmurs. Then, his eyes are dark when he looks at you and you feel your throat go dry. “Not in the way you deserve.”

“Yoongi please,” you beg, lips inches away from his as you muster your doe-eyes to plead with him.

“You know I love you, right?” he says suddenly as you freeze at the sudden confession.

“I...yes,” you say with a slight tilt of your head.

“Then just know that I’ll fuck you as hard as a man loves a woman,” he grins, and before you can say anything else, his cockhead is prodding at your hole.

“F-Fuck,” you gasp.

“Ready?” he whispers, brushing a hair out of your face while the other hand prepares itself in-between your legs.

“I’ve never been more ready in my life,” you say earnestly.

When Yoongi slips in, you hear the slight pop that it makes when your wetness encases him. You gasp, and he grunts, both your eyes never straying the way your pussy begins to fit snug around his cockhead. But God was he big. And thick.

So thick that you haphazardly grab onto his shoulders to neutralise the burn.

“Y-You’re so big,” you choke, still moaning when Yoongi slowly pushes the rest of his length into you with a disgruntled moan of his own.

“Gonna make it fit, yeah?” he grunts, “Gonna fuck you the way you deserve.”

“O-Oh my God,” you gasp, eyes unable to stray away from the way his cock splits you open, “Y-You’re gonna kill me.”

Yoongi laughs, deep and earthy when he spots a lone tear leaving your eye. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and to your lips when you pout at him.

“Don’t die on me yet,” he teases before he’s placing an open-mouthed kiss on your jaw. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Just give me a moment,” you say breathlessly, shifting your hips ever so slightly to adjust to his size.

You whimper into his neck, fingers pressed tightly against his back as you stare your glassy eyes straight into his own.

“You can move,” you inform him hoarsely, “P-Please.”

Yoongi pulls out just until the tip of his cock remains, testing the waters as he gives an experimental thrust. It’s nothing much, yet you moan like you’ve hit euphoria, your fingers biting into his skin.

“S-Shit—fuck, oh,” you cry as Yoongi watches your face contort in pleasure.

Yoongi had a dick and he knew how to use it. How was that even fair? He was handsome, kind, the right amount of mean-to-caring ration and a doctor. And he was here, all yours. You were delirious.

It’s even better when you clench around him, urging him to continue as you peer at him through your eyelashes, stained with tears of pleasure.

“Fuck me harder,” you whisper into his ear, “Or was that just all talk?”

Yoongi growls, leaning up until he’s got both your legs are thrown over his shoulder in a swift motion. Your eyes widen when you take in his expression, tight and dark, ready to fuck all the words out of your mouth.

“You want hard?” he spits, “You’ll get it.”

It was as if Yoongi had been holding back the entire time, even though all the dirty talk had made you drench yourself more than you ever had in your entire life. Now, Yoongi pounds into you, precise and sharp as your body jostles with every snap of his hips against yours.

He does an impeccable job at building his pace, from sharp and angled thrusts into your cunt and with erratic beats that match your heartbeat.

“Where’s that mouth of yours?” he growls, “Does this seem like just talk to you?”

He punctuates his words with a grind of his pelvis against your clit, the tip of his cock brushing against—

“F-Fuck! Oh oh, fuck, please—right there, oh my God don’t stop, please don’t,” you sob, blinking away your tears as you tighten right when he grinds his cockhead against a spongey area in your pussy.

“Look at you,” he smiles wickedly, balls slapping against your ass as you scream in pleasure. All you cared about was him and his perfect cock. “So perfect for me.”

“F-For you,” you mewl, “Shit—Y-Yoongi—!”

“How’s this for a teenage dream?” he smirks, leaning forward as he practically folds you in half to gain leverage to pound into your battered cunt.

“S-Shut up,” you snap, even if your words are choked in your throat when he hooks your knee over your shoulder so he could rub vigorous figure eights onto your clit.

You’re so wet that you’re ruining his sheets. He has no complaints, especially when the squelches of your pussy are more than audible in his room. It’s lewd and vulgar, and he never knew a pussy could get this wet but here you were, continuously proving him wrong.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts.

“Y-Yoongi—” you croak, eyes blinking up at him as one of your hands searches for his wrist.

He raises a brow at your actions, especially at how limp your movements are with the way he doesn’t falter in his pace to brutally fuck his cock into you, reaching places that have you catching your breath with a high pitched moan.

The only time his hips stutter is when you bring his hand to your neck, wrapping his long fingers around your throat with a fucked-out expression, smiling up at him as if he was doing you a favour.

“You’re a minx,” he says through a dark chuckle, fingers still loosely wrapped around your throat.

“For you,” you pant, hips chasing his thrusts. “Yoongi.”

He curses underneath his breath before he’s returning to pounding into you with reckless abandon, his cock brushing against all your nerves as you wail in ecstasy beneath him. The fingers around your throat give an experimental squeeze as you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, “My beautiful girl, hm?”

“Yours yours yours,” you chant, gasping for air when he presses lightly against your airway.

“Will you cum for me? Show me how much you love me?” he croons, leaning forward as he snaps his hips forward roughly, brushing against your bundle of nerves.

“Y-Yes! Oh God, I’m gonna cum again, shit,” you sob pathetically, “P-Please, l-let me cum.”

“Hold it,” he grits, as he loses his rhythm the closer he reaches to his own release.

“Y-Yoongi please,” you cry, “I’m gonna—!”

“I said hold it,” he snaps, pressing his thumb against your throat in warning as he chases his high like a mad man.

It’s not until you desperately grind upwards, your cunt clenching around his length that he lets out a guttural growl that he gives you your command.

“I lo—I love—” you cry desperately, feeling your heart constrict in your chest in an overwhelming way that has your tears freefalling down your face.

Yoongi grins at you and all you do is want to have him close to you.

“I know,” he whispers, grinding harder as you cry in pleasure. “I know. Me too. Me too.”

“I’m—!” your voice hitches, digging your arm around his neck as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, his breath painting your skin.

“Come for me?” he asks so sweetly that you can’t even dream of denying him.

You do, and it’s so fucking loud that Yoongi has to swallow your screams of pleasure with his mouth.

“Where can I—?”

“Inside me, inside me,” you blubber, sobbing as you continue to moan while you ride out your orgasm.

He spills inside of you, mouths still attached as you desperately lick into his mouth in search of more warmth in Yoongi. You’re shaking beneath him, your body attempting to lock up at the intensity of your orgasm.

“Fuuuck,” Yoongi groans, feeling your cunt tightening around his cock with a vixen grip.

You’re recovering from your blinding orgasm, your chest heaving up and down as you lay limp beneath him. You’re absolutely boneless, and you only manage a small whimper when Yoongi slips out of you with a hiss of his own.

There’s nothing that keeps his cum in you as it immediately oozes out with how all of the muscles in your body are loose in exhaustion.

Yoongi bites his lips when he sees the way your legs shake and his cum leaves your lips, pooling on the bed.

He crawls up to you, fingers already brushing away the sweaty strands of hair from your face as you blink up at him like you’ve just woken up.

You’re deeply satiated and the stickiness in-between your thighs is a testament to that fact. Sex has never felt this good; this fulfilling. You never thought sex was inherently romantic but there was something about being by Yoongi’s side that made you loose in all the right ways.

“Hey,” he whispers when you all but come back to reality.

“H-Hi,” you croak, cheeks flushed with the exertion of your previous activities.

“You okay?” he laughs softly, brushing a gentle hand over your forehead to get the matted down pieces of hair out of the way. He’s so irrevocably gentle that all you want to do is hold him.

“Can you…” you mumble softly, “Can you hold me?”

Yoongi blinks, taking a brief pause before he’s letting out a huff. He shakes his head, and you wonder if you’ve said anything wrong. Before you can ask again, he’s leaning forward to press a tender peck to your forehead and shooting you a calm grin.

“Be right back,” he says.

You squeak, a hand immediately reaching out to him as he shuffles out of bed. Despite your dismay, you admire his broad back and feel yourself smile a little woozily to yourself. God, you were so...whipped. Was this normal? To want someone this much? To feel so whole? So scared? Why did everything feel like nothing’s ever changed when in fact, nothing was ever the same?

You can barely move with how much your muscles ache, both in your throat and in all of your limbs. You feel gross mostly because there’s sweat sticking onto your back that makes contact with the mattress beneath you. You try to lean up, wanting Yoongi back with you—but then he returns quite promptly, a pair of loose sweatpants around his waist, a towel in one hand and clothes in the other.

“Slow down,” he chides, amused when you can barely hold yourself up, “Here.”

You didn’t notice the bottle of water, and you realise just how parched you were when Yoongi feeds you the drink. He’s gentle and patient when you gulp everything down in one go, feeling your thirst immediately being quenched.

“Thank you,” you croak.

He waves you off before he gently nudges your thighs open with the towel. It’s warm when it makes contact with your skin. Yoongi’s so gentle with you that you can barely control the way your heart pounds so loudly in your ears. When he makes contact with your folds, you flinch at how raw it feels; absolutely battered (and pleased).

“Sorry,” he murmurs, and much to your surprise and pleasure, the apology is paired with a kiss to your collarbone.

Despite how intimate it is when he wipes at your folds to clean up the cum that he left, you don’t feel judged. Sure, it’s still a little embarrassing mostly because his eyes zero straight onto your cunt with immense focus. But it’s mostly heartening when he smiles, as if proud with his handiwork.

He tosses the towel aside, quick to grab at the shirt he brought along with him. It’s silent when he lifts your hands above your head to dress you with the large t-shirt. It smells like him, like comfort and home—and you immediately rest into the fabric like you were made to.

“Let me help you,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist, “You need to pee.”

“I’m so tired,” you whine softly, but you lean into his touch regardless.

Yoongi laughs. “You don’t want a UTI, don’t you?”

You pout before you allow him to carry you to the bathroom. It’s not awkward at all when he lets you do your business after helping you (with a few shared laughs). He waits outside and you find enough strength in your legs to pull yourself up. When you push the door open, Yoongi’s already waiting for you.

As if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you, his arms immediately dart out before you could drop to the ground.

“That good?” he asks cockily, and you smack him on his chest.

He doesn’t reply to that but presses a kiss onto your lips as if it was second nature to him. He leads you back to his bed where you note there’s a towel on top of where you carried out your...activities, and you feel your heart grow ten times more in size.

The kiss doesn’t lead anywhere. It’s slow and tentative when Yoongi breathes you in and vice versa.

You pull away first, breathless and so overwhelmed.

“Yoongi…” you mumble, resting your palms against his chest.

“Hm?” he hums, smiling.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, “For...coming tonight. I was—really happy when I saw you.”

Yoongi looks at you, a slight furrow to your brows before he lets out a deep exhale.

“You really…” he chuckles, shaking his head. “God, what are you doing to me?”

Your brows knit in confusion.

“When you say things like that...you have no idea what it does to me,” he says earnestly, “I just can’t let you go like this.”

You flush, hiding your face into his chest.

“I would never have missed it for the world. Even if you paid ten different Black Ops to keep me out,” he says seriously as you burst out into laughter at his deadpan.

You feel so light, and it’s a great feeling. “You’re so stupid.”

“And you’re the only one that gets to see it,” he replies.

“Stop,” you whine, “You’re making me nervous.”

“It’s just me,” he smiles so wide that you find yourself mimicking the action.

“It’s just…” you trail off, feeling so tired when you feel the touch of his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Go to sleep,” he urges gently.

“But…” you protest weakly.

“I’ll be here,” he murmurs, “I’ll always be here.”

And you believe it.

When you wake up, the first thing you see is Yoongi. His tousled hair, his slightly parted mouth; the way his eyebrows furrow just a little as if to indicate a rather active dream.

"You know I can feel you staring at me,” Yoongi hums, eyes still shut as you stifle a laugh when the hand loosely wrapped around your waist squeezes it.

“Impressive,” you snort, “You can see with your eyes closed now?”

He opens one, shooting you a relaxed glare before he sighs, rolling over and pulling you with him until you’re squished against his bare chest.

It’s comfortable and innocent enough; you indulged in his touch as you dug your chin into his chest while he drew faint circles against the skin of your back. In fact, you’ve never pictured it to feel like this.

You’ve shared beds with people before, bare and vulnerable. But you wouldn’t consider yourself to be that much of a sentimental person to fully appreciate the luxury of mornings with your bed partner. Yoongi, however, was much more than just a bed partner. He was someone, until recently, you’ve loved from afar—where your heart has always laid. And how he was here, lying next to you.

Your eyes slowly flutter shut at the comforting hold he has on you, ready to fall back into slumber but Yoongi seems to have other plans with the way one of his hands trickle down the side of your waist, caressing your abdomen until they find purchase in-between your thighs.

“Really,” you say dryly, even if your voice is pitched with a slight breathlessness when Yoongi casually rests his palm over your pelvis, unmoving but very much insinuative.

“Hm,” he grins when you glare up at him. There’s no malice in your expression and he knows that, which is why he parts your legs with his hands and you follow his guidance without any complaints. “Really.”

“Your eyes are barely open,” you point out when he traces his fingers against your inner thighs, your developing wetness betraying the aloofness you attempt to display.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t get you off,” he retorts smartly. Then, without warning, he drags a lone finger up your folds until it circles your clit as you gasp, still sensitive from last night.

“C-Cocky much?” you scoff.

“You say that yet—” he smirks, his other arm pulling you snug against his chest as his other works around your clit rather than on it, eliciting more wetness oozing out of you, “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Am I?” you huff indignantly, feigning disinterest. Your stomach is already clenching in anticipation and you’re sure Yoongi’s fully aware of that despite his rather groggy state.

“You are,” he says confidently, then he drags his finger up your slit and presses his thumb against your clit as you jerk at the stimulation.

“Oh,” you say breathlessly.

“Oh,” he mocks, before leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

You stop him with a finger to his chest as he raises a brow at your unimpressed expression.

“Morning breath,” you deadpan.

“My mouth touched practically every part of your body and you’re turned off by a little morning breath?” he blinks.

You flush. “I don’t want you breathing in my morning breath.”

“Love, you could keep it in a jar and I’d still wanna kiss you,” he says dryly as you grimace at the visual.

“God, you’re so disgusting. Can’t you just—?” Your words are immediately cut off when he deftly swirls his finger around your clit in a reminder that he was still working the tune of your body. You choke, head digging into the crook of his neck when he prods at your lubricated hole.

“Can I just what?” he says, and you hear the smugness in his voice, his finger stalling in its ministrations.

“Don’t be a bitch,” you hiss weakly, shifting your hips before he smirks at you.

“Let me kiss you first,” he says.

You gawk.

“Are you threatening me with an orgasm?” you say, baffled.

“No, I’m threatening you with my love,” he says pointedly as you feel your heart flutter at how easy it was for him to proclaim that. “An orgasm is just a consequence.”

You scoff. “Can’t you just—I don’t know. My neck’s right there! Just—mouth at it or something.”

“You make it sound so unsexy,” he says with an eye roll as you gasp, affronted. “Let me kiss you, woman.”

“Yoongi,” you whine, squirming.

“Just a peck,” he promises as you narrow your eyes at him.

“Promise?” you say sceptically.

He shoots you an unimpressed look, but you glare at him and he lets out a sigh before nodding his head with a sardonic half-smile.

“Promise,” he assures.

You nibble on your lips before huffing, “Fine—”

Before you can finish your sentence, Yoongi’s already pulling you in with the arm around your waist for a kiss. And he lied. That goddamn man lied to you because it wasn’t just a peck.

Yoongi’s kissing you like he’s wanting to paint your mouth with his tongue. The musky scent of both of your morning breaths mixed together should’ve thrown you off or dried you up—but it doesn’t. It doesn’t because you love him and you want him in every way you can get him. And you fear it’ll throw him off, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t because he wants you in every way he can get you.

“Yoongi—!” you mumble against his lips, but he ignores you to smile. Then, without warning, he plunges his finger into your cunt as you let out an audible gasp where he takes advantage of to lick his tongue into your mouth.

“So wet, sweetheart,” he croons, curling up his digit until he expertly nudges the spongy nerves in-between your walls. Your body was still in its relaxed mode because it was so early so you were extra sensitive.

There was a time where pet names or terms of endearments threw you off. You never found them particularly enticing nor enjoyable. In fact, your past experiences only reminded you that pet names were usually used more in mockery of your femininity than anything else.

But you like how it rolls off Yoongi’s tongue; it was natural. It wasn’t going to be used against you. It was for you.

“F-Fuck,” you whimper into his mouth, clutching onto his shoulders as he drags the tip of his finger against your walls as the pressure continues to build.

You were wet, undeniably so and it’s almost embarrassing how fast you’ve gotten to this point with just Yoongi by your side. Yoongi pulls away from the kiss to shoot you a smug grin that has your belly churning in anticipation, and before you can nag his ear off for breaking his promise—he’s slipping in another finger and curling it up with a sniper's precision.

“Knew you were gonna say something stupid,” he snickers, and you can’t even find it in you to get annoyed when he speeds up his fingers, prolonging the drag of his fingers against your walls.

“Y-You’re so annoying,” you huff, panting when he plunges his fingers deeper as your mouth drops open into a silent gasp when he finds your g-spot like it was easy.

Yoongi was good with his hands. Fingers. He was just good. You’ve slept with men that thought shoving their fingers into your cunt and slamming it home was enough to get a woman off. It wasn’t. But Yoongi reads your body like he’s read it for years, and he knows that it’s not how fast he goes—but where he reaches.

And he reaches it, all right. Yoongi curls his finger every time he drags it against your g-spot as you’re full-on mewling at this point. Your legs begin to shake and it’s stupidly annoying how he gets your body to convulse like this with just his fingers. The stretch is delicious and you love the way his eyes grow darker when he watches your face contort in absolute pleasure.

The squelches from your pussy grow even louder, and Yoongi tugs your body until it is pressed firmly against his own. He quickly lifts your leg to gain more access and throws the duvet off your body so he could get a better view. When his eyes drop to in-between your legs where his fingers continue to disappear into, he growls.

“So fucking wet,” he snarls into your cheek as you sob in pleasure, shaking at each snap of his wrists against your swollen clit. “Fucking love seeing you like this, all for me.”

“C-Conceited ass,” you struggle to form words, and even now, you don’t lose your tongue. Yoongi tongues the inside of your cheek in a way that was both unnecessary and hot. Unnecessarily hot.

“This conceited ass is gonna make you cum so hard you see the stars,” he growls, and another finger joins the other two as you squeal at the intrusion.

It burns ever so slightly but less than it usually does with three fingers. You know it’s mostly because you already took Yoongi’s cock and he was larger than the average large penis—so your pussy somewhat accommodated to the girth. Yoongi’s fingers were thick and long, and you were high-key obsessed with them, especially when he hooks his fingers up, pressing against your g-spot to stimulate you even further.

“O-Oh oh oh, oh my fuck—Y-Yoongi!” you warble, eyes fluttering shut as your head tilts back in pleasure. The pressure in your stomach is growing and you feel your pussy uncontrollably convulsing around his digits. You’re so wet that it drips down onto the sheets.

Yoongi digs his palm onto your clit, giving a reprieve to the poor bud as you sob in pleasure, desperately clinging onto his bicep as he continues to rail his fingers into you with a set goal in mind. Your body is so sensitive from last night and since it’s in the morning so you’re already approaching your high—but it feels different.

“Y-Yoongi—something’s—!” you gasp, and then his other hand grabs the back of your neck to force you to look him in the eye while you watch the animalistic desire paint his face.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he warns as you gasp.

There’s something extremely erotic about looking someone straight in the eye as your body locks in pleasure, especially when they grin at you, as if proud, that they were the one’s responsible for your bodily reactions. You grow even wetter when you register the hardness against your thigh as Yoongi speeds his fingers up, ferociously prodding and dragging his fingers against your g-spot to get you to nirvana.

“S-Somethings—f-fuck, Yoongi—!” you choke, clutching his arm desperately as you maintain eye contact.

The pressure is exponential, and it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. Your entire body is hot and you’re in desperate need of a release, filled to the brim with his fingers and ready to let go.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he murmurs, and then he hooks his fingers up once more—and holds it against your g-spot as you let out a sob of pleasure as you cum.

But you don’t just cum. There’s wetness everywhere, the sound exacerbated by the way Yoongi fucks his fingers into you through your orgasm. Your thighs clam shut around his wrist because it’s too much but you want more. You force your eyes to stay open as you stare at him through it all, indulging in the way Yoongi looks absolutely taken with how your mouth can’t keep shut or that your eyes are threatening to roll to the back of your head.

You don’t know how long you’ve come for, but you still feel like you’re coming when Yoongi pulls out of you to vigorously rub at your clit. Your body jerks at the overstimulation but you revel in the way Yoongi lets out a deep groan at your reaction. It’s so wet and it’s so messy but you can’t even focus on how it’s getting everywhere when the pressure is so intense that tears form in the outer corners of your life.

“Fuck,” he groans, “You’re so fucking stunning.”

As he pulls his fingers away to pull your legs apart, his eyes darting to the mess in-between your legs as he bites his lips to appreciate the view—you feel deeply satiated. Your mind is blank and you can barely register any sounds. Your legs are still shaking despite you riding out the full waves of your orgasm—or at least you think it’s over because the post-orgasm bliss is real.

“What the fuck,” you croak, eyes blinking as you stare at the ceiling.

Your legs are still spread wide and you feel Yoongi dig his fingers into the meat of your thighs. Even with an action like that, you jolt at how sensitive you were.

“___,” he calls your name so earnestly that you try your best to turn your face to him. When you see it, he has a shit-eating grin on his face. “You just squirted.”

Silence.

Then it settles.

Then, you’re mortified.

“What?!” you shriek, voice hoarse as you try to clamp your legs shut. Yoongi, as always, doesn’t let you.

Yoongi ogles your post-orgasm pussy as he tongues the inside of his cheek as if admiring his work. You flush, deeper than how flushed you were when he finger-fucked you into ecstasy when you notice the way he grins so widely.

“Yoongi,” you groan, covering your face with your hands in mortification, “I’m so embarrassed!”

“Love,” he laughs, helping you close your legs and even that was a feat because your pussy was practically battered raw, and any contact made you shudder. “It was sexy.”

“I basically pissed on you!” you whine, digging your head into the crook of his neck as he lets out a loud, boisterous laugh. The type of laugh you loved from Yoongi.

“We’ve already exchanged our morning breaths, a little pee is nothing,” he assures you as your jaw slackens even further.

“Min Yoongi!” you scold, thwacking him on the shoulder as he snickers.

Then, he’s rolling you under him as your eyes widen. He hovers above you, in-between your legs as you already recognise the devious expression on his face.

Yoongi dips down, mouth ready to devour your pussy as you tug him up by the hair, earning a grunt from him.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn him menacingly as he blinks at you, “Don’t even think of breathing near my vagina!”

“Come on,” he sighs, “You gave me four last night. Two is nothing.”

“Nothing—?” you gawk, pinching his neck as he hisses. “You put my pussy out of service! This is your fault.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes before he’s falling on top of you with his entire body weight pressed against your body.

“Not my fault you’re so delectable,” he says as he nibbles against the flesh of your boob.

You roll your eyes, even if you feel yourself ooze a little more wetness in interest. Damn you, Min Yoongi.

“Brush your teeth,” you sneer snootily, attempting to push him off you. Yoongi doesn’t even budge at all.

When you turn, it’s rather silent. You wonder if you’ve offended him. But Yoongi’s staring at you—lovingly. Gone was the sex God that made you see the seventh heaven with his fingers alone and the playful banter that the both of you always engaged in—but replacing him was another Yoongi your heart adores.

“Hey,” he says softly as you feel your breath hitch. Then, he intertwines your fingers together as you feel your cheeks heat. “It’s really nice waking up to you.”

“Where is this even coming from,” you huff, still shy to express how giddy that made you feel.

He smiles. “Dunno. My heart feels funny when I’m with you,” he says, mirroring your actual thoughts as you avoid his eyes. “I like this feeling.”

“Go brush your teeth,” you mutter, changing the subject as he chuckles.

As always, Yoongi doesn’t listen to you as he swoops down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, hands cupping your cheek as you relax into his hold.

“Did I tell you look really cute in the mornings?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Loser,” you mutter.

You don’t care that the aftermath of your morning breaths still lingers; or that the wetness between your thighs was getting uncomfortable; you don’t care because Yoongi’s here. He’s warm, and he’s with you.

And you’re in love.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says softly after the two of you exchange breathless and ardent kisses.

Your heart clenches, softly dragging your fingers through his hair as he stares at you, cheek pressed against the pillow.

“I’m going to miss you too,” you echo quietly, nibbling on your lips.

“I’m really proud of you,” he says, smiling softly as his fingers trace the base of your spine. You shiver when he presses a kiss to your cheek, a gentle peck that speaks louder than words could offer. “I’m really happy you’re doing this.”

“You won’t…” you start off hesitantly as Yoongi listens intently, face kind, “you won’t move on?”

You say this unsurely. You trusted Yoongi. Before and after everything that’s happened. Yoongi was someone you trusted with your entire heart and soul. But you also couldn’t control him. You almost wanted to curse the timing that everything’s happening in.

If the love was revealed earlier; if you were a little less afraid; if you were a little braver; if—

“Look at me,” Yoongi says, voice stern.

You hesitate.

Then, he lifts your chin up with his index finger as his brows furrow.

“I understand if you...you wanna mess around,” you stammer, looking away, “I can’t—I can’t stop you. And we’re not really together anyway. So—yeah. But if you move on then—”

He smashes his finger against your lips to stop you from rambling as your eyes widen. Yoongi has an unimpressed look on his face and you pout when he doesn’t release his finger. Instead, there’s a brief silence that fills in the space where your words could never fill.

“I don’t want to,” he blinks seriously, “I don’t want to move on and I don’t want to mess around. I want you.”

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. So, you blush. You cover your face with the pillow as you groan, frustrated at yourself and the timing of it all.

Yoongi’s a little forceful when he pulls the pillow from under you as you yelp. When you look up with hair on your face, you glare at him as his blank face returns. It serves to comfort you that your dynamic with Yoongi hasn't changed. And you wondered just how oblivious were you to all of his love?

“Rude,” you scoff.

“And you don’t think it’s rude to suggest that I want to sleep with other people when you know how I feel?” he raises a brow, tone pointed.

You respond with a meek expression as Yoongi sighs. He takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together as a prompt to get you to look at him. When you do, Yoongi’s expression is nothing short of earnest.

“I told you that I’m fine with waiting,” he says softly.

“That’s what everyone says and then they realise how much time apart sucks,” you sniff, grumbling ever so slightly.

“Well lucky for you I’m not everyone,” he retorts, and you know that this is a way of Yoongi understanding you. You couldn’t help the snark that unintentionally filters into your words; that was an inevitable part of you. But Yoongi’s here, patient, and willing. “I want you. Whenever. Wherever. I’m not moving on even if God wanted me to.”

“Yeah but you’re a hot doctor,” you say huffily, “And you’ve got a bomb dick game. That’s not saying anyone’s not going to fall in love with you.”

“You think any of that matters to me when you’re on my mind twenty-four seven?” he whispers.

Your cheeks blaze.

“If I could fall in love with someone else then it would’ve already happened,” he explains softly, eyes never leaving yours. “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger and I’m never turning back.”

You whine, covering your face with your hands at Yoongi’s honest words. You knew him to be honest but this is different. The way his words are uttered so ardently; the syllables only meant for you while he holds you like you were everything to him. It’s a fantasy you never knew you wanted, but was served to you on a silver platter.

“Don’t say it like that,” you mumble.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, tugging you closer by your waist as he manually rests your head against his chest.

“Would you prefer me to tell everyone that looks at me that I already met the love of my life?” he offers dryly.

You knee him in the shin, grumbling into his chest before he snickers at you. His hands play with your hair, casual and as if time didn’t exist. But you knew that soon, you’d have to wait until he could hold you like this.

But this was your choice. This was something that you needed to do for yourself before jumping into something with Yoongi. You wanted him, God, you did. But you had things to work on, to learn, to discover about yourself before you entered that stage with him.

“A year is a long time,” you murmur.

“But it’s time you need,” he returns gently.

You nibble on your lips. “Yeah,” you breathe, “It is.”

“I’ve waited longer for this,” he says and you can hear the smile in his words. “You think a year is going to ward me off?”

“I just—” You stop yourself before any more negative words pour out. It started now.

For now, the warmth is consoling; and the future is a reminder.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you say softly.

“What are you thanking me for,” he laughs quietly, chest rumbling as you squeeze him a little tighter when your arms wrap around his broad chest.

“Everything,” you mumble, “Everything that you do for me. Have done for me. And what you’re doing for me.”

“God, do I still need to remind you, hm?” he scolds lightly, flicking your forehead as you scowl. “I want to do these things for you.”

“I know,” you admit quietly. You look up, and Yoongi’s already smiling at you.

“Then don’t doubt for a second that I don’t want to wait for you,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You take a deep breath, enjoying the hours that you’re left with before you embark on an entirely new journey of your own.

“I won’t,” you say, and you believe it.

You lean up, initiating the kiss as you make sure to tell him everything you’ve felt with your lips. He cradles your cheek, and your palms rest against his chest. Kissing Yoongi was no longer a distant dream that you had, but a present reality that you were partaking in. Yet, nothing could quite explain how right this feels.

When you pull away, a string of saliva is what connects your lips.

You push him back down to the bed, crawling in-between his legs as his eyes widen, hands instinctively travelling to your hair.

“We didn’t have time to test my gag reflex last night,” you say coyly.

“Devil,” he grunts when you lean down, hand already wrapped around his erect cock.

You take him in your mouth like it’s the last, and it’s history from there.

Being at the airport usually meant change. Whether or not it was a student leaving for university; a couple travelling to their honeymoon; a business trip—anything, really, the airport signified a change of scenery. It was both beautiful and terrifying to realise that fact.

You’re donned in a large hoodie, the scent of someone comforting permeating your personal space in the way you like the most. You instinctively reached out for this particular one because you knew you were going to hold onto it for a long time. A year, specifically.

“You’re not leaving because of me, right?” Haerin pouts, arms clung around your figure as you laugh.

“I would’ve left a long time ago if that were the case,” you muse.

You remember the conversation, and how it went. How happy Jungkook, Hoseok, Loli and Haerin were for you. Enough that Loli declared she needed a change in scenery and booked herself the same flight that you were taking.

You were nervous, but change was a daunting feat, wasn't it?

Haerin’s lips wobble and you find yourself feeling a little bad. But she doesn’t burst into tears as you expect. Instead, she pulls you into a tight hug that has your eyes widening.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispers.

You hide your smile because somehow that’s what you’ve always wanted to hear.

You pull away to offer a lopsided smile, a little look but kind nevertheless. You couldn’t undo years of distance, but you could start closing that gap now. Haerin accepts because she’s come to understand a new side of you, seeing you in a light she’s longed for but finally put into action.

“We’ll call, right?” she asks nervously, and you know what she means. You think this is a step forward to the sister telepathy thing you’ve always heard about.

“We will,” you smile at her, hugging her by your side. “I’ll tell you all about Berlin and my new job once I get there.”

“And your meals,” she adds excitedly, “I wanna know what you eat too!”

You laugh, nodding your head with a fond gaze. “Only if you tell me too.”

She pulls away for Jungkook to step closer to you, a soft expression on his face. Somehow, you feel the lump in your throat grow when he extends his arms wide, making space for you to hold.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says softly into your hair as you sniffle pathetically.

“Thank you for everything, Jungkook,” you sniff, “For being my best friend.”

When you look up, Jungkook’s eyes are slightly red as he looks away, blinking away the glassiness in his eyes.

“You’re not dying, aren’t you?” he mutters, even if he holds you a little tighter to tell you it’s okay.

“Who’s going to tell me I’m being a brat now?” you cry.

Jungkook grins. “I don’t have to be right next to you to do that. No one is going to replace me.”

You laugh croakily, nuzzling your head into his chest as he rubs your back.

“I love you,” you say so quietly that Jungkook barely catches it.

“Love you too, dumbass,” he says fondly. “Tell me all about Berlin, okay? I want to know if their steak is good.”

You laugh through your tears, shaking your head at the boyish grin Jungkook shoots you.

“Come on, don’t deprive me!” You hear Hoseok whine, as Jungkook finally pulls away.

Jungkook pulls away before giving you one last smile, and a ruffle to your hair that you deeply appreciate. It’s like seeing your partner-in-crime accept that it wasn’t going to be the same as usual. And despite the tug at your heart, you know he’s rooting for you as much as you were rooting for him.

You jump into Hoseok’s arms this time, nearly sending the two of you flying to the ground as he cackles animatedly. Despite your tears, Hoseok has the ability to make the worst situation seem bright.

“Gonna miss you,” he says, patting your head.

“Thank you, Hobi. For everything,” you murmur, “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you,” he corrects, squeezing you so tight as he lifts you off the ground while you squeal. “Go make Berlin your bitch.”

“Totally,” you grin.

“Right when he’s there?” you whisper conspicuously, earning a snicker from Hoseok.

“I’m kidding,” Hoseok emphasises, right before he places a slobbery kiss on your cheek. “There. My parting gift.”

Yoongi sighs when Hoseok ruffles your hair affectionately, the sentimental part of him smiling a little fondly when you sniff into the other man’s chest.

“Go make yourself proud,” Hoseok whispers into your hair as you nod your head with teary eyes.

You pull away, and it’s bittersweet when you catch the faces of the people in your life. It’s almost like a montage playing right before you with the lessons you’ve learnt from the people that were by your side. Each of them served a purpose, some hurt, some were exhilarating—but all equally as necessary.

Yoongi stands a few metres away from you, hands in his pocket while the two of you face each other like you’ve got a hundred different unsaid things to say. Maybe you do, maybe he does—but it doesn’t feel all that painful. Almost as if the worst had passed, and all that you had was now.

He walks towards you, slow steps that you memorise while he offers you a small smile.

“Never thought you’d go this far to get away from me,” he says through a grin.

“You’re always up in my business so this was my only choice, wasn’t it?” you retort sassily, huffing.

Yoongi keeps his smile, yet there’s something sad about it. You know exactly why. The both of you do.

“I’ll still be looking for you. In people and in places,” he admits quietly as you feel your heart clench. You knew it wasn’t easy. “Wherever I can, I will.”

“Don’t look too hard or you’ll find someone better,” you attempt to joke, throwing a small punch to his shoulder as he continues to stare at you.

His state is a lot more resolute, the same one you’ve always known, The same one that he had when you met him all those years ago, his head buried in a book when Haerin introduced him to you. The same face that you saw the night in your home. The same face you’ll always remember this way.

“You’re quite the character,” he laughs softly, “I don’t think I’ll ever find someone else alike.”

You grin at each other from ear to ear. There’s something oddly bittersweet about this goodbye. A farewell that promises change and growth instead of heartbreak and erasure.

“Good,” you say, taking a step closer until your chests are nearly pressed up against each other. “I know I’m halfway across the world but my crazy knows no borders.”

Yoongi laughs, his shoulder shaking and you briefly see Haerin looking at the both of you with fond eyes. For a while, you don’t shy away when she shoots you a knowing look, happiness behind her irises as she stands with Hoseok and Jungkook. All three of them looked happy—for you.

You were lucky, really.

“Berlin would love you,” he says softly, finally reaching out to brush a hair away from your face.

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself to trace each slope of his expression to memory.

“That’s why I chose her.”

“Would she love you as much as me?” he murmurs, and you feel your heart stop.

You know. He’s told you this. Said he’s felt it longer than he’s said it. But there’s something about his gentle tone whispered amongst the bristling passengers alike that make this moment all the more intimate. The way he doesn’t pull away but indulges in your stunned expression—and the way he tilts your chin upwards.

“I’m proud of you too, you know? I’d never stop you from doing what you need to do,” he says softly, a murmur in thin air. “But why does this have to suck so much?”

“Yoongi…” you say quietly, hand wrapping around his wrist as he rubs a thumb over your cheek with a pained expression. Despite that, he smiles when you whisper his name.

“I know it’s been hard for you and I’m going to do everything in my power to make up for a lost time,” he murmurs. “So I guess it’s my turn to suffer, huh?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you huff. “You’ll survive. I’m still a call away.”

“But I want to hold you,” he whispers, voice dropping an octave lower. “Kiss you. Touch you until you’re—”

“I get it,” you say quickly, cheeks flaring as he smirks at the way you avoid his gaze.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to care that your friends were witnessing your interaction because even then, it was just you and him in the vast world. He pulls you closer, lips precariously positioned over your own as your breath hitches.

“Do you? Get how much you mean to me?” he asks softly, “How much I wish I was less of a dumbass all this time?”

You hold a giggle, “You were pretty dumb.”

He gently flicks your forehead as you whine, pouting up at him. Suddenly, his face morphs into a solemn expression, a gentle yet sad smile marring his face.

“Don’t fall in love with a smart German dude. I don’t think I can fight,” he jokes, hiding the hoarseness of his voice.

“Berlin isn’t for me to fall in love with people,” you remind him as he nods. “It’s a place for me to fall in love with myself.”

Yoongi smiles so widely that you find yourself mimicking his actions. Your heart aches so much, but it’s a necessary step that the both of you recognise you need to take. You don’t scream, you don’t jump to conclusions—you don’t fall back just yet because you know Yoongi’s right here.

“As much as I’m glad you finally chose me, I need to choose myself too,” you say quietly.

Yoongi nods in understanding, and he looks genuinely at peace. You don’t know what he feels in this exact moment per se, but if it’s anything like how you feel—you want to hold him. To allow him some warmth before this temporary cold takes over.

You memorise him all over again. Relearn his expressions even if you’re intimate with them. You fall for the curve of his lips, the wisp of his dark eyelashes and you make another home out of the edge of his jaw.

You do it all in the minutes you have left, and for all the time you’ve spent waiting.

“I gotta go soon,” you murmur, eyes briefly glancing back to catch your flight details blinking on the screen.

“I know,” he sighs, “Let me do this first.”

Your brows furrow, and before you can ask him what—he slips a second closer and presses his lips against yours.

You gasp, and even if you’ve got to know the taste between his lips—it feels like the very first time when he cups your face in between his large hands, tilting it to press his lips harder against your own.

It’s years of feelings, memories and unintentional heartbreak. It’s every spite you threw at him for him to shield it with his tenacity, and you feel it all pour through the seams of his mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut and you sink into the feeling, uncaring if people wonder what the two of you were thinking or feeling. If it was lovers who were parting, unsaid words that were left to dissipate—or was it just an unnecessary act of affection—you didn’t care.

You don’t care if Haerin sees. Or Jungkook. Or Hoseok. Or anyone. Because it wasn’t them who was in front of you. It wasn’t them that you needed to focus on now.

It was Yoongi.

He pulls away, breathless and eyes trained on your face.

“You’re so fucking cheesy,” you croak.

“Cheesy?” he says with a raised brow, right before he pulls out the final stop and dips you downwards, earning a shriek from you.

It’s absolutely embarrassing, the way he’s playing the very role of a Disney Prince when he stares at you with the warmest set of eyes you’ve ever seen.

But you bask it in.

“I won’t be able to do that for a while,” he says with a tilted grin, pressing another kiss to your lips as you feel your own lips begin to wobble against your own will.

“I hate you,” you whisper, forehead pressed against his chest as he wraps an arm around your shoulder when he brings the two of you upright while you embrace all the warmth you could get.

Before the temporary cold comes, you remind yourself.

“That’s too bad because I’m so in love with you,” he declares tenderly.

When he pulls you upright, you’re dizzy and absolutely taken with him. Yoongi’s dressed casually, his hair swept and ruffled in the morning-style you adored on him. He smiles, so soft and honest when you feel your lips wobble despite how happy you feel.

“Don’t cry,” he laughs, swiping under your eyes as you scowl.

“I can’t control my tear ducts you dick,” you snap.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling you close until you are pressed against his chest. You hear his heartbeat and for a moment, you allow yourself to bask in the warmth that he provides you and your space with.

“I…” you start off hesitantly, voice timid.

“Hm?” he hums, rubbing gentle circles on your back as you clutch him tighter.

“I love you,” you mumble, so softly that he probably didn’t catch it.

“What was that?” he teases, pulling away just to see the embarrassed scowl that makes its way onto your expression.

“You heard me,” you hiss petulantly.

“I want to hear it again,” he says with a lopsided grin, “Didn’t you know it’s my favourite thing to hear?”

You flush, then you clear your throat as you attempt to neutralise your expression.

“Iloveyou,” you mutter quickly.

“Sorry, what was that?” he grins.

“I said Iloveyou,” you mumble again.

“I’m sorry but my hearing is—”

“I said I love you, you idiot—!” you snap, slapping his chest before his hand catches your wrist and you spot the fond expression that marks his face. It’s the same one he’s always had when he looks at you.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Your heart soars, and you shake your head in disbelief at how smooth Yoongi was, and how easy it was for him to capture your heart with just a sentence or an act.

“I’m going to miss you,” you say quietly.

“Me too,” he says, then he brushes a hand over your hair. It’ll probably be the last time he can do that for a while. “A year.”

You nod, determined.

“A year.”

“I hate to break up this love fest but we’ve got a flight to catch,” Loli interjects the conversation with her bright pink puffer and large framed sunglasses. She smiles knowingly at the both of you, and you feel Yoongi squeeze your hand once more with a wistful gaze.

“Go,” he encourages with a smile.

“I—” you stammer.

“Technology, kids,” Loli tuts teasingly, and you know it’s her way of comforting you. “You can even sext!”

You groan at her suggestion and Yoongi only laughs heartily, helping you with your coat once more before his eyes rake over your entire frame.

“We can do that,” Yoongi jokes.

“Don’t encourage her,” you say dryly.

“It’s time,” Hoseok comes in, a small smile on his face as he pats Yoongi on the back.

Haerin and Jungkook stand right behind him and they’re smiling at you. You’re smiling back and you feel yourself welcoming the change, despite how scary it feels. You hear the chatter of passengers and staff, some laughs and some tears—and you note that everyone’s on their own journey to their own places.

Some use a car; some use a plane. Whatever it is, they’ll eventually get there.

“Let’s go,” you exhale.

“Come on,” Loli grins, and you finally make your way to the gate that separates the drop-off point and immigration.

You grasp your passport in your head, eyes beaming when you spot your flight details on the LED board.

Berlin, 10:30 AM.

Haerin gives you one last hug and she bawls this time. You laugh even if you feel yourself tearing up too. Jungkook refuses to let you see him cry but you feel the dampness of his tears reaching the top of your head. Hoseok tries his best to keep the mood light, but you know his touch says more than his words ever could when he squeezes you with his arms.

You stand before Yoongi one last time, a twinkle in your eye when he returns the expression.

“Bye, Yoongi,” you say softly.

“Call me when you board,” he reminds you, adjusting your coat. “And when you land. I’d like some pictures, too.”

“Of course,” you giggle.

When you turn, Loli’s waiting expectantly for you as you take a deep breath and take the first step back. Yoongi has a proud look on his face, and his eyes tell you he’ll miss you. Of course, because you will too. You’ll miss this city; this place, but you’ve outgrown it. You needed a space to grow further, and Berlin was it.

You wave at the people you love, seeing their bright faces as the officers check your passport.

A voice breaks your thoughts just as you’re about to slip over the barrier.

“For the record,” Yoongi shouts through his cupped hands as you gawk at his blatant display. “I’ve always chosen you!”

You roll your eyes but your smile gives your true feelings away. You shake your head, smiling over at him one last time; he knows. And you do too.

Loli extends her arm for you to link yours with hers, and she grins.

The officer smiles, “Mother and daughter trip?”

Loli cackles, sharing a look with you before she turns over to the officer.

“You can say that.”

You pass the threshold, and you let out a deep breath.

But you suppose completing her PhD at only twenty-six years old was a highly impressive feat that you couldn't even put be a Debby downer towards. Haerin worked hard and you witnessed all of her hard work with your own eyes. From pulling all-nighters and scheduling excessive meetings with her mentor—she's done everything at the top of her game, and it clearly paid off when her published works were used and praised by top universities across the world.

So when she walks up to the podium, back straight and a smile as wide as she was taught to have, you can't help but think how pretty damn cool she was. Even if you were begrudgingly compared to her every waking moment of your life.

Haerin is the poster image of elegance when she adjusts the collar of her blouse right before she beams at the crowd in front of her. When she skims the crowd, you briefly see her eyes rest on your family and that's when your mother decides to flail her arms around to catch her attention.

You sink further, burning at the embarrassment of suddenly being on the big screen. It's an odd look, you nearly scowling while your parents smile brightly in pride. You try to fix your face, but it's to no avail when you realise that you'll always look like a raging bitch no matter how hard you try.

When she speaks, her voice is smooth as honey and crystal as clear waters.

"Good afternoon to the dean, fellow academics, graduates and honourable guests," she recites gracefully with impeccable precision, never once looking down to her script.

You hear your mother choke on a sob as you try not to roll your eyes at her dramatics.

"It's an absolute honour to be standing on this stage and giving this speech to people that I've looked up to throughout my academic journey," she says, beaming to the Professor that helped her through her PhD who stands next to her before she's taking another deep breath.

"Often, we look up to people who have numerous awards and recognition under their name," she smiles, "But we tend to forget that these people—like me, and like you—are simply humans ..."

You know what Haerin is saying is probably some phenomenal, philosophical concept that has people oohing and ahhing alike, but you really couldn't be bothered to hear her wax poetic. After all, philosophy was her forte after she's dedicated her twenties to studying that field of study.

She says people clap, some cry, it's an average day witnessing Haerin's impact. You're more than used to seeing her be celebrated like she was a God amongst mere mortals, so used that you don't even notice the person that slides into the seat next to you.

"You look bored."

You blink, barely catching yourself as you turn your head to the source of the voice.

The words get stuck in your throat when you finally acknowledge your new guest, lips tilted slightly upwards as he levels you with an amused smile.

"I'm not," you say as you clear your throat, "Just tired."

"So, bored," he chuckles.

"At least I got here on time," you snap back, mostly in embarrassment at being called out.

Yoongi shoots you an unimpressed look before he's turning back to focus his attention on your sister who's still gathering her applause like it was nothing.

"You know I had a shift at the ER," he says pointedly.

"Yeah. So don't nag at me for things that are out of my control, okay?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

Yoongi smirks to himself before shaking his head.

"You're in a mood," he muses.

"Why wouldn't I be?" you mutter under your breath as you fold your arms across your chest. "I have to watch my older sister collect awards left and right like Thanos collects his infinity stones. How do you think I'd live up to that?"

Yoongi laughs, a little louder than you'd expected as you spot an elderly lady who glares at him. Your parents are way too focused on recording Haerin from every angle possible to greet your new guest so they don't even notice the sound coming from him.

Yoongi stays silent for a beat before he turns to you, face neutral as you shift nervously in your seat at the fact that you'd likely overshared.

"It's whatever, I'm just jo—"

"You don't have to live up to that," he finally says.

You blink, slowly turning your head to see Yoongi shrugging at you with an unreadable expression.

He's always been a little hard to understand, but he was understanding. You suppose you'd take what you could get.

"Easy for you to say," you snort, "You don't have a legacy to live up to."

"No, I don't," he grins, "But I know you."

You narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a reassuring look as if he was able to explain to you how he truly knew you.

Frankly, you didn't doubt him. Yoongi was one of the few people in your life who stuck around despite your erratic tendencies, or even when you were brattier than usual. Though you'd really like to attribute it to the fact that he was a nice person in general, or that he cared about you—you knew why he stayed as long as he did.

And that thought sends a bitter expression on your face.

"I don't think you do," you mumble, focusing back onto the stage where your sister seems to collect her umpteenth award for the day.

Yoongi doesn’t respond. The cheers grow louder, and you suppose Haerin had said something sensational once again when the audience stands up to give her a standing ovation. You wish you could feel bad that you missed out on the latter part of your speech, but you knew that people like her didn’t rely on luck to receive recognition. It was just her.

So, you stand up, plaster a tight smile that hides the inhibition that ferments in your chest and let the claps drown your thoughts.

Haerin smiles, and she looks as beautiful as ever. You look away.

“You made it!” Haerin’s voice is bell-like when she spots Yoongi hovering behind your parents who have already doused her in hugs and congratulations.

“Of course I did,” he returns with a roll of his eyes, but even then, his arms immediately reach out to wrap around her petite frame.

You force yourself to glance away when his eyes grow soft as she beams up at him with her charming smile.

“I know the hospital gets really busy this time—”

“Stop,” he sighs, shaking his head good-naturedly while you’re essentially forced to absorb their conversation like an outsider; stomach unsettled when her giggles melt perfectly along with his own laugh. “This is an important day for you. I’d never miss out on this.”

You’d like to think that you were relatively good at shielding your emotions. You survived twenty-two years by suppressing the anger that bubbled for whatever reason because Haerin was out there achieving greatness. When you were in a household that only valued excellence, anything but that was sourly shoved aside.

But now, your face is tight. Tighter than usual, at least. It’s to a point that your mother sends you a scowl, a warning in her eyes when she looks over at you.

Don’t ruin this for Haerin, it says.

Before you can excuse yourself, your father’s resounding voice cuts through the atmosphere.

“Yoongi’s always taking good care of you, Haerin,” he says fondly, smoothing a hand over your sister’s hair while her eyes grow into crescents at his statement.

“He is,” she agrees softly.

“It’s nothing,” Yoongi chuckles, pulling away so your sister can fully settle into the embrace of her father while he smiles proudly at her.

You wonder what it’s like. To have eyes on you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky.

Instead, your eyes drift to the dirt beneath you.

“He’d be a good husband,” your mother whispers, nudging Haerin as her face flushes in mortification.

You bite your tongue, swallowing the bile that threatens to spill out of your throat at the idea.

It wasn’t a new one, but it’s one that you can never grow used to. Not when it was so possible, and so expected. It’s only a harsh reminder that whatever you were feeling would always be shielded anyway. Especially when it wasn’t your emotion to feel, to express.

Not when Haerin and Yoongi were the pair made in heaven.

“Mom!” she hisses, right before offering Yoongi an apologetic smile.

He doesn’t even bat an eye. He simply smiles at her, shrugging his shoulders as if it didn’t bother him. You nearly scoff because it definitely didn’t. Why would that bother him? Haerin was perfect. It makes perfect sense.

They were perfect for each other.

Your voice gets stuck in your throat, and it’s commonplace that you’ve yet to utter a single word in Haerin’s presence. The limelight is always on the one that offers substance, not the one misguided and misdirected. You don’t mind the disregard; you were used to it.

But the tenderness in Yoongi’s gaze is hard to get used to.

“Anyway,” she coughs, shaking your father’s grip off before she’s grinning widely at you. “You’re here too!”

Haerin has always been kind.

She’s someone that all sorts of parents use as a role model for their own kids. Study hard so you can be as intelligent as Haerin. Mind your manners so you can be as classy as Haerin. Do this, do that—so you can be like Haerin.

It was you that held the animosity.

“Of course,” you mumble, offering her a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes before she’s tumbling into your chest.

You’re taller, but that never negates her presence. The way she takes up space in all the right ways, with her brightness and her charm that could captivate anyone.

You had the height, but you were only half the person Haerin could ever be.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispers, grabbing onto your shoulder when she nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck.

“Why wouldn’t I,” you mutter, stiffly patting her back.

“You’re busy, I know.” You nearly roll your eyes because she was the one with a PhD. Not you.

“Not really,” you concede, and you note the bored expressions that mark your parents’ face.

You don’t even want to see what Yoongi thinks.

Haerin pulls away just enough to shoot you another smile. You wonder what it’s like to truly look so happy all the time. You suppose when you don’t have to pretend it’s much easier to smile the way Haerin does.

“You’re working with grassroots aren’t you?” she asks cheerily, and you’re mildly surprised that she remembered.

“Uh, yeah but—”

“Haerin! We want some pictures out front of you!” Your mother interjects, immediately pulling your sister away as she yelps at the sudden force.

Your face returns to its stoic state, not the least bit surprised that your parents were disinterested in hearing your involvement in grassroots. It wasn’t the elite thing to do. They always made a stern reminder to you to keep their names out of the loop when you were working with activists across districts.

So when Haerin offers you a pout and an apologetic expression, you only shrug before you’re pulling away yourself.

Your parents don’t shoot you another glance before they’re dragging Haerin away, animatedly discussing her offers from top firms that valued her publications.

Only then, do you remember that Yoongi still remains silent. It’s almost humiliating that he’s witnessed that exchange, but it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. And you know that he’s witnessed the worst moments, but the reminder never failed to sting.

It’s because the light shines so bright on Haerin that he may just get lost in your darkness.

“That’s cool.”

His voice interjects just as you turn on your heel, stopping you from moving any further as your eyes rest on the path before you.

You don’t say anything, and he takes that as his cue to continue.

“Haerin always tells me about what you do,” he says, walking up to your side until he’s directly in front of you that you can’t ignore his presence. When you look up, Yoongi still looks monotone, but his eyes are still kind. And they’re trained on you. “You’re a driven person.”

That makes you scoff.

“You’re really going to tell me that after you just saw my sister receive her PhD?” you say dryly.

He frowns. “That doesn’t make you any less driven of a person.”

You note that he doesn’t even compare you to her. It sends a warm feeling to your stomach.

But reality hits, and you suppose it’s because you couldn’t compare yourself to Haerin when she was in a league of her own.

“You don’t need to comfort me, okay?” you sigh, “I’m used to it. My parents love what Haerin does and it doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s easier to get away with working with activists when they aren’t all up in my business anyway.”

Your words earn a small twitch from Yoongi’s lips, and you’re wondering what he finds so funny.

You realise that Yoongi tends to find a lot of the things you say amusing. You weren’t even that much of a funny person. You were far more boring than your sister, so you genuinely wonder what runs through his mind.

Before you can pose the question, he shrugs with a gentle shake of his head.

“I’m not comforting you,” he says pointedly, raising a brow at you when you snort at him.

“Could’ve fooled me with the unwarranted pity party you were throwing me with your eyes,” you say, narrowing your gaze at him.

Yoongi laughs, shoulder shaking before he peers down at you with his cheeks rounded in amusement. You hate that your heart still stutters in your chest even after everything you’ve witnessed. Even when you vividly picture how right his arms looked around your sister.

“I called you driven and now it’s a pity party?” he laughs, hand reaching out to squeeze your shoulder as you nearly jump at the contact. “You really need to fix your comprehension skills.”

It’s light-hearted, and you’re used to Yoongi poking fun at you. You were virtually the only person you’ve ever seen him truly joking with, not even with your sister.

Haerin was more mellowed down, less crass than you were. So the time for jokes was, well, there were definitely jokes but you don’t think (or know) if she and Yoongi have laughed until they cried.

You know you have, but you don’t sign off that possibility. There were things that Haerin and Yoongi did in private that you never allow yourself to indulge in.

Your heart would never survive.

“Maybe you’re just bad at getting things across,” you retort.

He smiles. “Maybe. But I meant what I said.”

“I fail to see how me working grassroots who have volunteers from all over makes me driven,” you mumble.

Yoongi stares at you a second longer than you anticipated. And you find yourself squirming under his gaze.

His eyes are always intense, even when you know that there was no malice underneath his irises. Yoongi was naturally just an all-in person that made it very hard to breathe around him. Especially when you knew that he was observant and could pick apart almost what anyone was thinking.

Sometimes, you were terrified that he saw right through your emotions.

“People have different modes of transport in getting to where they belong in life,” he says.

You blink, furrowing your eyebrows at him, confused. “What?”

He glances to the side, stuffing his hands into his pocket as a small smile appears on his usually blank face.

He looks stunning this way, jaw chiselled and emphasised by the natural light and the way that his forehead remains exposed with his hair styled back. It’s devastating, but you can’t help but stare.

“We all have different starting points and different endpoints,” he says matter-of-factly, “Some people are good drivers—so they take cars. Metaphorically, at least.”

“Yoongi, what are you even saying,” you deadpan.

He ignores you and continues.

“Some people don’t feel comfortable driving, so they take buses, or bicycles, or even go by foot. Or have people drive them places.” His voice is smooth when he carries forward, and you’re still lost at the point he’s attempting to make. You wonder if this is the influence of Haerin’s philosophical knowledge.

“Different modes of transport means taking different routes. A car can’t travel in water, and a plane can’t park in a garage—they all essentially serve their own purpose effectively in the medium that they were made to serve it in.”

You’ve always known Yoongi to be extremely introspective, but you’ve never heard him wax poetic about transportation vehicles before.

But as always, you listen. You always do, especially if it’s him that’s speaking.

Finally, he looks at you, and your heart nearly lurches out of your chest when his eyes soften at your gaping expression.

“Point is, we’re all driving to our own destination points, and each journey is unique to each person,” he says softly as your breath hitches.

“But I’m no Haerin,” you mumble quietly, finally speaking and finally understanding what Yoongi was getting at.

“You aren’t,” he concedes as you feel your heart drop. But he picks it up immediately with his reassuring grin and the hand that smoothes over your hair comfortingly. “You don't have to be.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm, and you hope he doesn’t notice.

“So don’t knock yourself down just because you’re heading in a different direction than she is,” he says, “You’re driven. And you’re doing great in what you do. That’s all that matters.”

When he looks at you once more, eyes honest and pure with his hand resting over your head—

You realise that Yoongi does know you.