#3tan5

Yoongi’s already whipping his head on his pillow before he can fully get his eyes open, twisting his body and rushing out of bed. 

His footsteps are fast but his thoughts are faster, turning his mind into mush as he struggles to get full vision on the way to his door.

What the fuck is going on? Better not be a break-in at seven in the fucking morning. No quicker way to set him o—

“—do you keep all your stuff, old man? Can’t find a damn thing.”

Oh.

Shit. 

That’s your voice. 

And you sound like you’re in the kitchen. Which would explain the bang he heard—had to have been a cabinet. 

Yoongi’s hand slips from his doorknob, finger by finger, shoulders relaxing and breath leaving his mouth in a slow exhale. 

Damn. When was the last time he woke up to someone in his place? Apparently it’s been forever because you scared the shit outta him. He forgot you were even there. 

Cracking open his door, he watches as you gather a container from one of his counters before setting it down to grab something else. The face you make is nothing short of adorable as you visibly frown, contemplating a decision. 

That’s his cue to make himself known, but he has to hide his amusement because he visibly spooks you as he says, “Hey.”

“Oh, fuck,” you whoosh out, your hip connecting with some cabinets. Your next sentences come out strained. “I didn’t know when you’d be up. But I made food and it’s damn good, so you better eat it.”

You did what? For him?

“Me?” 

“Yeah! There.” 

Yoongi follows your pointing hand to his table, and that’s when he notices a foiled plate, chest feeling slightly heavier yet lighter at the same time. 

Waking up to someone in his place is one thing. But waking up to someone making him food from his own kitchen? 

That hasn’t happened in years. 

Your voice tugs him out of his temporary stupor. “I figured you don’t really get time to get food, so...”

He doesn’t look your way. Because he can’t at the moment. All he can really do is speak, and even then it’s in monosyllabic spurts. “Shit. Thanks.” 

“I also accept money.”

A laugh leaves his throat before he can hold it in. Your wit is still so damn attractive, he’ll admit that. “A hustler at heart.” 

“Maybe so. Your fault by saying I could use your kitchen, though.”

That’s news to him. Turning to you, he asks with a cocked brow, “I said that?”

“You did,” you reply, expression suddenly wary and a third as confident.

When did he say that? What else did he say? Judging from the way you’re looking at him, he’s assuming you’re waiting for him to ask that out loud or hope he remembers. 

And since he’s blanking, he chooses the latter. “What else did I say?” 

“Uh.” You pause. Are you gonna tell the truth? He was dead tired last night. Honestly, after fucking you, his brain decided to not remember much else. Fuck, he really is getting old. “Not much.”

When will you learn that you can tell him anything? Especially if you’re looking at him like that, like you’re sad he doesn’t remember. 

Because damn, he wishes he does. He really has no fucking clue what happened. “You sure?” 

“Yeah. Just that you didn’t get me food but I could use your kitchen.”

“Mm.” That’s more than he expected but you’re still hiding something. Whatever the hell he said, he had to have meant it. He really wants to know. 

So he’s gonna get it out of you. 

Because he truly wants you to get that you don’t ever have to keep shit from him. If anything, that would bother him more than you telling him the truth. 

From what he does remember from last night, you told him that same exact thing. So why act against that yourself? 

Both of you are so similar.

Walking into his kitchen, he sees your eyes unblinking as you watch him close in, wondering if you’re gonna break easy or not. 

It’s then that he realizes you’re wearing something different than what you wore last night. A simple shirt and sweats, and yet you’re just as attractive as how you looked walking onto the court the other day. 

He wonders if you realize that. You probably have no clue. 

“I think you’re lying,” he mutters after leaning a hand on his counter, blocking you from the one exit you could’ve used. “Are you?” 

Your eyes answer before you do, and more truthfully. “It was nothing.” 

The hell it wasn’t. Your mood shifted way too much and too easily for that to be the case. 

But Yoongi knows that he just needs to be patient with you. Because from the looks of things, it seems like no one else has been. 

Touching your chin, he whispers, “Last night wasn’t nothing, doll.” After watching your eyes flicker and soften, he admits, “I just don’t remember shit after coming.” 

“Oh,” you breathe out, relaxing instantly. 

That’s all you needed.

“You told me to stay.” 

Yoongi stills. 

Not because he wanted you to stay—that was his intention from the start. Why else would he have told you to get your shit before coming over? Why else would he have driven you back to his place? 

He sure as hell wasn’t gonna make you go back home after all that. 

With another thought, Yoongi remembers the reflex he had after you joked that you walked home after driving him back. And what went down on the court the day before. 

Yeah. He wasn’t gonna let that shit happen, jokes or not. Of course he meant for you to stay that late.

He’s just shocked he felt the need to say it out loud. 

A thousand thoughts race through his brain, and he has to blink them all away. Because he can’t think about those right now. Or ever. You’re off-limits. And those thoughts cannot be considered for someone off-limits. 

“I meant it,” is all he can really say, dropping his hand. Because fuck, if he said that without even remembering, he must’ve really wanted to say it. 

But why were you so hesitant to tell him that? 

“Did you not want to?”

“Oh, no no,” you stutter out, like you always do when you’re shy. It’s one of the things he likes about you; you’re almost always confident until coming to terms with what you’re really thinking. “It’s not that. I just heard that you didn’t like people staying.”

That’s true.

“I don’t.” 

“I dunno. I just thought…” You look away, as if you don’t wanna say the rest out loud—again.

But Yoongi will wait. He’ll wait. And wait. 

And wait. 

“I didn’t want you to feel some type of way about it.” 

A half-smile jumps onto his face. Why the hell are you so cute? “Like what?” 

“Like, I dunno, regret it. Or something.” 

He shakes his head, straightening himself to hold back everything he wants to say to you. There’s so much on his mind. But he’ll spare you. “I don’t, doll.” 

“Okay.”

Besides, he’s already gonna be late if he keeps talking to you a bit longer, as much as he fucking wants to. He still needs to get ready. 

Shooting a look at the foiled plate on the table, he turns back to you and wonders, “Did you even sleep?” 

Your expression twists into one of embarrassment. Caught, and adorable. “Not really.” You gather the last pan from his stove before going back to his sink, swiping any lingering grease from it with a napkin before putting it under water. “I took the couch, though. Maybe that’s why.” 

Yoongi can only blink. 

Is he still asleep? What the hell are you doing to him? 

If he truly asked you to stay, he didn’t mean take the fucking couch. 

But you did anyway. 

Because why wouldn’t you? 

“Sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay! I can just nap later.” 

Thinking back, you didn’t stay when you took him home the first time, which he didn’t remember shit from, either. Fuck, he’s exhausted, but that’s not the point. 

The point is that, despite having several chances to do so, you didn’t overstep. Despite showing him—and telling him—how much you wanted to be here, you just… 

He might be in trouble. 

Not that he’s not already in deep shit anyway. He shouldn’t have agreed to doing anything else with you, nor went to your fucking house as much as he did. And he sure as hell shouldn’t have taken you to his bed a second time. 

But he’d do it all again, and he doesn’t have a damn clue why.

Even now, as he’s inching closer to you by his sink, he doesn’t have a reason. He doesn’t want one. Because reason doesn’t have a place in anything he’s done this weekend, much less the past couple weeks. 

Not when all he can think about is you telling him that you missed him. 

Has he heard that before? 

Of course he fucking has. Countless times.

But hearing it from you somehow drove something into his chest, and he almost forgot where he was. Which was dangerous, since he was in his fucking car. 

It was the shock of your admittance alone that got him to admit the same thing. 

And admit some other things to himself, nights afterwards. Like the fact that he can’t read you as well as he thought he could.

Holy fuck, he hasn’t been in this position in a long ass time. 

It’s with this thought that he stops himself. Reluctantly, he grits his teeth before making a decision, and he fakes a smile while reaching out to lightly tap your chin with a finger.

“You’re so cute.”

“Am not!” 

Yoongi walks back toward his room to change—certainly not to just step away for a second—and throws a question over his shoulder,

“You ready?”

“Yeah, I got everything.”

“K. Gimme ten.”

And though he will never admit it out loud, he missed cornering you in his kitchen. The last time he did that, he was under the impression you were with someone else. Even more off-limits than before. 

But now? 

Fuck. He can’t think about now. 

The both of you have to go. 

Taking off his shirt, Yoongi places it on his desk chair before rummaging through his drawers and closet to figure out what to wear. After choosing a standard white tee and some joggers, he grabs a black hat from its hook before thumping everything on the bed. 

The clanks of pans make their way into his room, and he blows air from his nose when he hears you opening multiple cabinets. You’re probably stressing over where to put everything. Hilarious. 

“Left side of the oven,” he calls out, and softly snorts at your exasperated,

“Damn it, I knew it.”

Grabbing one of the chains from his nightstand, he clips it on while walking to his bathroom, getting ready while trying not to think about everything he has to do this week.

If only that setback hadn’t happened last night. Yoongi’s sure they would’ve gotten everything done on time if not for that screw-up. The plan is to get in and out today and go the fuck home to sleep. 

He wishes you could stay longer. 

But your brother doesn’t stay gone for more than a weekend, always coming back Sunday nights and inviting him out for a drink. 

It’s his fault for crashing on you two nights in a fucking row. It seems like he can’t ever do something right when it comes to you.

He swears to make this whole thing up to you the next chance he gets. You deserve it, even though he doesn’t deserve you in the slightest.

Walking back out of his room fully changed and ready, he still has his friend in mind, asking your sitting form at the table,

“Am I taking you straight home? You sure he’s not already at the house?” 

The look on your face is strange. You tilt your head as you grab your bag, “He didn’t tell you? He’s gone for a whole week this time.”

What? A whole week? 

Why the fuck did air leave his lungs? 

“Oh, shit, really?” 

You’re standing by his table now, anticipating him walking you out. “Yeah, that’s what he said.” 

Wheels are churning in Yoongi’s head, a change in plans suddenly favorable to him for once.

Wait. Why were you so worried about this weekend if your brother was gone for a whole week? 

Did you really think he was just down for one more night? After finally seeing you take up his bed after a whole goddamn year?

The smirk Yoongi slips to you isn’t because of what he says aloud, but what he’s thinking instead. “Damn, they got him working.” 

“I know.”

One foot steps in front of the other, one by one as he launches into a series of questions that you’re going to answer, brain trying its damned best to tug him backwards because this is absolutely not what he should be doing.

“…So a whole week, huh?”

You freeze. “Yes...”

Don’t ask if you got plans. “You got plans?”

The gulp you swallow catches his attention immediately. “Not really…”

He’s in front of you now, staring into your eyes from below the rim of his cap. Nothing leaves either of your lips as he waits to say what he wants to next. The words almost die on his tongue, but he brushes off the stupid shit called nerves and logic before he rebels, 

“Then why am I taking you home?” 

It’s almost comical how fast your expression changes, pretty eyes widening and lips floundering. Yoongi has to hold everything in when you grasp for words. 

“I— I figured you wouldn’t want me here if you weren’t.”

Makes sense. Honestly, he himself doesn’t know why he’s acting like this, somehow fine with letting you stay for the few hours he’ll be gone. But his mouth is running on its own before the rest of his body can catch the fuck up. “You’re not a snooper, are you?” 

“What? No.” 

“Then we’re good. But, promise me you’ll get your shit done.” 

There. He knows you have things to do, knows you have a laptop stashed in your bag stuffed between the clothes you wore yesterday. That can be his excuse. For now. 

“But what if I’m lazy?” 

Yoongi snorts as he steps back to give himself some space. As much as he appreciates your honesty, he responds, “Well, tough shit. Do whatever you need to do today.”

“Okay… If you’re sure…”

“I am. And when I get back…” He reaches out to playfully flick your nose. “I’m gonna crash, okay?” 

“Huh?”

“Just for an hour or so. Can’t have you distracting me again, but. Don’t wanna pass out on you again, either.” 

“You sure you’re okay with me staying?”

“Why not?”

“I just… I dunno.”

Yoongi stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You can leave if you wanna.” 

Your quick rejection of that makes his mouth curve upward, and he lets you continue, 

“As long as you’re really okay with it.” 

Of course he is. There’s no way in hell he would’ve suggested it if he wasn’t. You’re just someone he feels that he can trust, especially after everything you’ve done for him in the last forty-eight hours. “No sweat, doll. I’ll be back soon anyway.”

Reaching around you, he picks up the food you made—shamelessly brushing his fingers along your arm in the process. Looking down at the aluminum cover, he finds his mind as crinkled as its surface. 

A decision is made. “I can’t lose to you.”

“What?”

His gaze flicks back up to yours. How can he even make things up to you if you keep one-upping him? Making him food to bring to work should make him feel weird, but he just feels like slamming the plate back on the table and laying you right across the wooden surface to devour instead.

But he reins all of his thoughts in. He’s so fucking late for work now. “I got the next one. Food wise.”

“Oh. Okay.”

There’s something laced in your tone. But what are you thinking? Is he doing too much? “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you say through an unsure smile. Your eyes are so brilliant right now. “You’re just… different today.” 

Oh. Damn, he’s in deep if even you notice a change. Playing off the slight buzzing in his stomach, he simply tosses you a wink. “Gotta keep you guessing.” 

Going to his door, he lazily points to the open space of his living room while aiming seriousness your way. “Don’t mess with my shit.” 

And your tiny laugh is music to him before you reassure, “I won’t.” 

“K.” 

With an open and close of his door, Yoongi’s now faced with silence and expectations and reality again. 

And he already wants to turn around and go back inside.

But he doesn’t, yanking his shoes from the ground to venture to his car, all while feeling stress from the weekend mount both shoulders. 

On the entire way to the studio, his thoughts drown out the music sliding out of his speakers and the humming of the drive itself. 

He’s not thinking about work, per se. But something else that’s causing his stomach to turn and his breathing to shorten. 

Fear. 

Not the fear that they won’t make the deadline or meet expectations—because they’re gonna—but the prediction that they’re gonna blow things out of the water.

Their studio is still lowkey. Frankly, he doesn’t know how this artist knew to reach out to them for production. It wasn’t until Jungkook told him that it’s a friend of a friend that Yoongi was somewhat convinced.

If things go well with this… 

He doesn’t wanna put any labels to it or jinx anything, but it may damn well be life-changing. 

And he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that. 

It’s the reason he’s been checked out of everything else lately. Dipping in the middle of the night to go in and practice shit. Try things. Figure things out on his own. He’s been so complacent for years that an opportunity like this one is causing him to stress constantly, wondering if it’s going to amount to anything but still expecting the worst.

Rolling up to the building, Yoongi sighs and sits for a good few seconds before finally leaving his car with your food. 

The studio seems void of people when he unlocks to get inside, but he doesn’t pay any mind, heading straight for his workspace behind the door at the end of the hall. 

When you asked him how the music thing was going, he was on the cusp of something. A crossroad. He didn’t want to talk about it because… well, he just didn’t. He doesn’t prefer to talk about himself. If anything, he would rather let his results and craft speak for him. 

At least, once he has something concrete. Which he doesn’t exactly have until this project is finished. 

Or maybe it’s because of the same thing that’s hovering above his bones now. Fear. A feeling that if he talks about it, the less likely it would happen. Besides, if people didn’t know his dreams, how could they possibly shoot them down?

But you didn’t do that at all. If anything, that was the most encouraging conversation he’s had about something personal to him and it only lasted seconds. 

You have no idea how much that affected him. Weeks after that night, he took a chance and joined this very studio, imposter syndrome consuming him everyday but his passion fighting it tooth and nail. 

As he sits himself in a chair that’s bared his weight for hours at a time, Yoongi stares at the equipment in front of him, trying his hardest to calm his nerves and ignore the slew of notifications that just won’t stop. 

Actually. 

Yoongi fishes out his phone, moving to set it on Do Not Disturb before seeing your name between all the numbers on his lockscreen. After he opens your thread, the things he’s greeted with aren’t straightforward hookup texts, pictures, passive aggressive messages, or anything like that. 

Just a bunch of food emojis. 

He glances at your plate in front of him.

Fucking adorable. Still texting him like a person desperately trying to keep a secret. 

But he’ll play along for now. After all, he’d rather see you react to the texts he wants to send you in person. 

Shooting you an inconspicuous thumbs up, he then goes back to silencing his phone. 

Until he does something that his brain is very much going to call him out for. 

Hovering over your name, he decides to set your thread for notifications, not wanting to think too much about it before stuffing his device back into his pocket.

It’s nothing. You’re just at his damn apartment. If something goes sideways he definitely wants to know. 

Right. 

“Bout time you showed up!” Someone shouts from the other side of the door. 

Yoongi turns before getting up to reach for the handle, letting them inside. “Sup, Kook.”

There’s a pop of a can before a response. “We finished Track Five without you.” 

As his boss continues to guzzle down whatever the hell he’s drinking, Yoongi leans on one of the arms of his chair. The guy had failed to mention that he contributed a bulk of the production on Five, but whatever. “Uh huh.” 

“Relax,” Jungkook jovially drawls before dumping himself on the sofa behind him. “I know you helped a lot on that. Fuck, I’m tired.” 

Yoongi turns back to the table. “Where’d you go this time?”

“The usual. Joji.”

Figures. A huff escapes his nose. “You aren’t tired of that place?”

“If the girls aren’t, I’m not.”

Yoongi tsks before shaking his head, rolling over to the far keyboard. “Girls love Joji.”

“Girls love Joji,” Jungkook airily repeats, and Yoongi can hear him crush the can before chucking it in a bin. “Let’s do this.”

Hold up. They aren’t gonna wait for anyone else? Usually everyone is present and huddling around the room. “Where are they?”

“Napping.” His boss goes to fiddle with the equipment, hoodie fully on his head and covering his entire profile. “They stayed overnight after you left.”

“The fuck? Really?”

“Yeah. Even I couldn’t get them to leave.”

“Damn.” 

“What even happened last night?” 

“One of the samples didn’t actually clear.” 

“What?” Jungkook sounds appalled, and his eyes are most likely saucers under those obnoxiously blonde bangs. “Which one?”

Tongue sliding along his lips, Yoongi just holds up two fingers while still heavily focused on the computer.

“The title track? What the fuck.”

“Yeah. We spent forever trying to spin something else up.”

“Shit. I can call them and see what’s going on.”

“Good luck. They didn’t answer when we tried.” 

“Fucking bullshit.” 

“I’m sayin’.”

Yoongi starts typing something on the keyboard while his brain whirrs with ideas and potential solutions. Hopefully Kook can pull this miracle off and get them time back because, if not, that’s gonna stay a huge setback. If a client of this caliber gets a delay on their first project with this studio, Jungkook can kiss any other opportunities goodbye. 

Shaking his head, he banishes any negative outcomes from his mind, snapping into focus on the programs in front of him. 

He can’t step away again. That’s the only reason he left when he did last night. His stress got to the point of debilitation, and his partners told him to go the fuck home because he wasn’t going to be useful if he stayed anyway. They were right. 

But apparently he wasn’t useful outside of work, too, because he didn’t even fucking realize what he was making you go through. Fuck, he felt like an ass when you answered that phone call. If he had just told you everything, you wouldn’t have been so worried since, when did you say? Basketball? 

Yoongi doesn’t know why that was the start of your worries, but he believes you. If you had witnessed what happened after you left…

Blowing air from his nose, Yoongi grabs the nearest set of headphones while hearing Jungkook hum one of the beats they crafted. 

Focus. Get shit done so he can go home. Back to you, and back to sleep. 

“What’s that?” 

Yoongi takes his cap off before rubbing his head. “Huh?” 

Jungkook points to the plate on the edge of the table and, for some reason, he doesn’t answer right away. “My food.” 

“Can I have so—”

“No.”

His boss simply wrinkles his nose in a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Who made it? Sure as hell wasn’t you.” 

“Why not?” 

“Am I wrong?” 

Yoongi just huffs before turning back to his monitor, taking the laughs that Jungkook aims at his side. 

“You never told me you were seeing someone.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Uh huh.” Plopping into the rolling chair next to him, the boy simply leans his head back. “But I get it. I respect the privacy.” 

After a few moments of peace, the silence is disrupted. 

“Are they hot?” 

Yoongi bursts into a snort while sporting a smile, not giving him anything but imagining your reaction to his question if you were here in person. What he wouldn’t give for that to be the case. 

“Fuck you,” Jungkook teases before scooting forward to start working. “You’re always so cool, I hate it.” 

More genuine amusement shoots from Yoongi’s nose, and the both of them finally get to business and work well into the next few hours. 

Even after he finally tried your food and paused because of how great it was, they kept going. When you texted him an adorable speaker emoji and a question mark, he quickly shot you a single word because he didn’t know if there was actually a desk emoji or not. Truly, the only moments he paused had to do with you, and both of them were pleasant breaks in his day. 

The one thing that completely halts their progress is the frustrating succession of yawns that consume him for a span of three whole minutes. Fuck.

“Bro, what is up,” Jungkook asks after he pauses the current track. “You seem super out of it.”

No shit. He definitely is. Yoongi rubs his face with both hands. “I’ll be okay.”

“I dunno.” Fiddling with some dials and clicking around on the computer screen, his boss continues, “You need to go?”

At this point, it’ll be hard to lie. Yoongi doesn’t think he’d be able to drive home if he stays like this much longer. And thinking of you and not wanting a repeat of what happened before, he decides to cut his losses here and admit, “I might.”

It’s one thing to say that he’d peace out early. But while in the studio, leaving is a lot harder to do, especially since the other guys aren’t back yet. Kook would end up by himself. 

“I’ll be okay if that’s what you’re worried about,” a soft voice beside him assures, and he doesn’t know how Jungkook was able to respond to his thoughts so quick. “I mean, I dipped last night anyway. Can’t really complain now.” 

“You sure?” 

“You look like shit, dude. Yeah.”

Yoongi nods before taking off his headphones, leaving them in hands resting on his thighs. It’s taking way too much energy to even get up at this point.

“And they’ll be back soon. We got it.”

Well. If they got the rest… 

Another nod is Yoongi’s first response before he finally sets the headset on the table. It takes him a bit to vacate his chair, but when he does, Jungkook spins to face him. 

“Sleep,” he orders as Yoongi settles his cap back on. “And then thank me by fessing up about who you’re seeing.” 

“Not seeing anyone, Kook.”

“Of course you aren’t. But tap that extra hard for me, yeah?”

Yoongi slowly shakes his head while tugging the door open, throwing a goodbye over his shoulder, 

“See you tomorrow.”

“See ya!”

Books. 

Yoongi has books under his coffee table. 

As you’re shutting down your laptop, you scan over the various titles and spreads you see, noticing with a cocked head that it’s a pretty interesting collection. Some seem like biographies of old school rap artists, a few manga volumes, and there are even cookbooks scattered around. There’s even something on classic… poetry? 

Hmm.

Wait. 

Yoongi reads? 

When have you ever seen him with a book in his vicinity? Had he ever mentioned anything about reading or anything of the sort? Are these just gifts his family had given him and he just kept? 

No. Judging by the near scarceness of his place, you quickly determine that he’s intentional with his stuff. There isn’t much displayed, but you know for a fact that everything that’s out is something he uses. Whether that’s daily or not, they all have their purpose. 

And that’s attractive as hell.

Glancing at your phone, you notice the time and figure that he may be back soon.

Before you even think about what to do for the rest of your waiting, you try for the eighty-ninth time to grasp the fact that Yoongi let you stay. 

It was enough for you to hear him tell you to stay last night without even knowing. But this time, you’re damn sure he was fully awake. 

What does that mean? Did it even mean anything? 

You might just be looking into things. Certainly, overthinking something like this will only get you lodged into places that you can’t help yourself out of. 

Geez. Taehyung would have a ball if you end up telling him everything. 

But you decide to keep this all close to your chest for now. Enjoy this momentary solace with someone you’ve been wanting to see for months and months. Whether he simply meant it as a nice gesture or something more, you’re going to make the most of it. 

And maybe do some pretending. 

Pretending that you can be someone that can be with him in public, or any of those scenarios you thought about on a balcony far away.  

Your playlist keeps going as you start moving into the kitchen, putting some bounce in your step and getting you in an even better mood. 

Turning towards the sleek device, you know you should’ve expected Yoongi of all people to have a really nice speaker. When you asked him if he had one earlier, you were pleasantly surprised to see it was a high-end brand with fantastic sound. Honestly, you might ask him if you can borrow it from time-to-time. 

Well. Maybe. Are the two of you friends enough to ask stuff like that? Would that look weird to other people? 

Yeah. You’re gonna cook again. Because you need a distraction. 

But there’s another reason, too. Even though he said he won’t lose to you, your competitive side won’t allow you to lose to him, either. Especially when it comes to food.

Geez. You’ll pay him back for all the stuff you’re using. 

Gathering everything you need, you start on something for lunch, singing and dancing along to whichever artists decide to join you while you work. Distraction, distraction. Pretending, pretending. 

What the fuck, he really did let you stay. 

With a lift of your lips, you silently hope he’s doing well at the studio. 

And your grin only grows when you notice that a lot of your songs are by the people lying down in books in the living room. 

You make good progress.

As sunlight beams into the kitchen from his dining table window, you still bustle around, vibing and singing along to words you both know and don’t. Drums and bass pulse from the high counter of his bar, and it’s so loud that you don’t even notice someone’s coming inside until—

“Hey.” 

Instead of being shocked like this morning, you’re in such a good mood that you just turn and smile. “Hey!”

Yoongi looks at you strange before scanning the kitchen. “What the hell is all this?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll clean everything! I just wanted to…” 

Your words slowly dissipate on your tongue. 

Clocks slow.

Why is he walking towards you like that? Why does time seem to bend right now?

“To…” 

What is that look on his face? 

“Win,” you whisper, suddenly caged in his arms as he pins you to the nearest counter. Dozens of emotions ping between your chest and his as he leans in, and your next words come out incredibly small but mighty in intention. “I can’t lose to you, either.” 

Though your music wasn’t paused, you still can’t exactly register which song is playing, nor hear the sizzling of the pan. All you can focus on is the enormous presence in front of you, suddenly acutely aware of how much you missed him even though it’s only been hours. How he’s able to charge the atmosphere around you in the span of seconds will always be a mystery.

Yoongi just stares and stares, his eyes roaming across your face and traversing every ridge, every valley, every imperfection that you know you have but he will deny. Why do you know that? How do you know he would?  

His eyes are lidded, lowering as much as his voice when he asks, “Why are you so…” 

So what? What is he thinking? 

How long had he been standing there before announcing himself because his actions feel—

You don’t get to hear the rest of it because Yoongi’s suddenly kissing you, sparks flying as you’re flung back to last night. 

Last night was quick, desperate, needed. And this contact feels the same, as if your actions all those hours ago never left your bodies, vibrating in your bones until you connected again. 

You don’t even notice you’re fisting his shirt to pull him in until he comments, proudly,

“I love when you do that.” 

“Do what?”

“What you want.” 

You heat from the inside. Encouraged and high on adrenaline, you go for his neck, fire flaring in your belly at the groans jumping out of his throat. 

His hands seize the back of your head and your waist as he tilts back, and when you lick his pulse, you feel fingers dig into your skin—hard. 

“Bab—”

Damn it! An alarm rings through the kitchen, yanking another curse out of your mouth. Reluctantly, you pull away before going to retrieve a dish from the oven, body reeling with the aftershocks of his attack. 

Yoongi takes a second to say something, and your breathing is still rough when he rasps out, 

“Didn’t I say it was my turn?” 

“You did,” you respond through a grunt, hauling the glass out and putting it on a rack. “But you never said I couldn’t cook again.” 

A tsk.

You think Yoongi will drag himself into his room after he concedes but, instead, he removes his cap before going to wash his hands. 

“What are you doing?”

“Helping.” 

“But”—you swirl the contents of your pan around with a spatula—“I thought you were gonna pass out?” 

“Change of plans.” 

Smiling down at your creation that smells incredibly enticing already, you tease, “Don’t think just because you’re helping that this counts.” 

Yoongi immediately fires back through a chuckle, “I can play dirty if that’s how you wanna do this.”

And you respond in kind, still reeling from the previous embrace. “Well, so can I.” 

“No chance.” 

When you finally turn to face him, he’s already putting down some vegetables on a cutting board, shoulder blades working under his white shirt as he starts chopping. 

Fuck. Turn back around. Now.

So you do, tasting what you have going already and turning off the oven. As you’re seasoning a few moments later, Yoongi comes up behind you and starts reaching for something on a high shelf, brushing against you a little too much and making you jerk forward. “Hey—”

“Whoops.”

“Ass!” 

The both of you keep going with your respective tasks, and Yoongi comes up to place another saucepan next to yours for his veggies. As he does his own seasoning and tossing, you’re finding it harder and harder to concentrate on your own food, your stirring getting slower, and slower, and slower. 

“You waving a white flag?” 

Blinking, you pierce his stupid smirk with a glare before lowering your pan’s heat. “As if. Oh, do you have water?”

“Yeah,” he juts his chin toward somewhere behind you. “Next to the fridge.” 

“Thanks.” 

All you need to do is wait for your food now, so you take a bottle and lean against the counter nearest his appliance. As you sip, you watch with piqued interest as Yoongi finishes his dish and slides the contents into a bowl. 

Reading. Cooking. Apparently still playing basketball. 

All of these things make up the Yoongi you don’t know, but you really, truly want to. Seeing him simply live his life outside of his regular scenes puts a small smile on your face, and you almost feel like someone looking in instead of actually being present. 

It has to be because you still think you’re dreaming. In your wildest imagination, you never would have guessed that you would wind up where you are now—after years and years of knowing a crush is all he’d ever be to you.  

Floating. You feel like you’re floating. Nothing in the moment can bring you down and you feel like you can do anything.

However, what you choose to do? It’s going to be childish. Borderline idiotic. 

But you can’t squash the flare of playfulness in your belly as you eye the running water that Yoongi’s using to wash his cutting board. It gave you this idea and you’re gonna see it through. 

Taking one last little sip, you sneak your way over to his side of the kitchen, the steady beat of the next song coming on shuffle. One step, two steps, one step more. 

Butterflies lift your feet to close the gap. 

You’re about to do this. It’s happening. 

It’s during the third bar that you pour your bottle right over Yoongi’s head, cackling as his shoulders shoot up while the rest of his upper body jerks down. 

“The fuck!” 

You’re already darting from the kitchen but his shout follows you, and while you’re frightened that he might be right on your heels, you peek from behind his sofa to assess. All you can see is his upper body above the bar, but it’s enough. 

He’s simply shaking his head before brushing his hair back. There’s a glimpse of his mouth that you can see, too, and you’re shocked to observe that his lips are turned upward instead of down as he keeps creased eyes on his sink.

“Shouldn’t’ve done that, doll.” 

Oh, god. 

Why isn’t he retaliating right away. 

…This may backfire. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you warily joke, gripping the half-empty container in your hand and crumbling under the way his strands stick to the sides of his head. 

“Come back here and find out.” 

“I’m good over here.” 

A small, impish laugh sparks from behind the partition separating his kitchen from the rest of the apartment. “Okay,” Yoongi stretches out in warning, voice light but threat dark. “Guess all this food is mine now.”  

“No!” you protest while staying right where you are. “It was just water!” 

“Uh huh.” He tilts his head to finally look right at you, and your knees give out at the teeth biting a section of his lip. “Then come here,” he goads with an eyebrow raise, grinning when you step back instead of forward. 

“Wow, would you look at the time? I gotta head out.” 

His amusement hisses out in bursts before he finally turns off the water, and he flicks some big droplets from his hair before he reveals himself around the corner. 

With a full bottle of what you believe to be very, very cold water. 

“Oh, no,” you point. “Yoongi, no!” 

He just tilts his head, face a blank sheet but you don’t buy it one bit. “What’s wrong? I’m drinking this.” 

“Liar!” Your senses are on full alert as your opponent makes his way to the couch, and you slip around to make sure you’re as far away from him as possible. Consequences to your actions start blaring in your ears and you are not quite ready to accept them. “I didn’t even use half of mine! That’s a full bottle!” 

“Don’t hate the play—”

“I hate you regardless,” you cut him short, feet now circling around one side of the sofa, the edge by a propped guitar in the living room corner. “Let’s start there.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mmhmm.”

Another switch of places as Yoongi gets in front of his coffee table, and you’re now barred from the front of his place. You can only flee into the kitchen or his room now—at least one of those options has a door. 

Giving him a quick once-over, you notice that his hair is slightly darker in shade when drenched, and it’s just like how you saw him on the court days ago. 

Was that why you decided to do what you did? You’ve never really been that spontaneous. Dousing someone in water in their flat? Who does that! 

Well, you did, but clearly your brain was on something else because it just wanted something to happen. Maybe, deep down, you really needed to see him like this again—this time, all to yourself. 

“Better think fast.” 

“Wh—”

Freezing liquid splashes onto you before you can fully raise your arms, and a string of yells flies out of your mouth before your body acts on its own. “Bitch!” 

If he doesn’t give a crap about his furniture, neither will you! You fling your uncapped bottle towards him in an arc, running into his room after you get another douse of cold as fuck water on your side. “Yoongi!” 

All you get in response is his laughs, and the quick thumps of his feet blaze a trail behind you before he bumps into his door. “Ow! Fuck.” 

You blow air from your lips at his reaction, bolting into his bathroom to fill your bottle with more liquid ammunition. 

“Hey, fuck that!” 

A surprise laugh leaps out of your throat after you try to kick his door closed because he bursts through immediately, pouncing on you before you can fling more water his way.

Shit! 

Was he always like this? You figured he would just let your little stunt go and be chill about it. You didn’t expect to end up here, legitimately fighting over a crackling water bottle and acting like complete children. It’s setting wings free to invade the far reaches of your stomach, challenging your mindset that real life cannot possibly be better than your dreams.

“You cheat!” you grit out, wrestling him while trying not to cave in at the sight of his soaking hands on yours. “I’m freezing!” 

His hisses are so fucking attractive before he taunts low, “You mad?”  

“A bit!” 

“Good.” 

With a quick glance in the mirror, you almost halt all your movements when you see the both of you in your struggle. Yoongi’s face appears the brightest you’ve ever seen it, and it’s almost as if the bags under his creased eyes are completely gone.

You want him to stay that way forever. 

But you must’ve been staring for too long because Yoongi notices, pausing to look up at your same reflection. 

He’s so fucking handsome. 

And you’re now shivering for a different reason. 

Because while you stay focused on the mirror, Yoongi faces you fully, eyes covered by a wet curtain of bangs but still effective enough to make you swallow. 

You know he can see your shaky breathing, your nipples poking through your shirt, your tongue coming out to lick your lips. He can see it all, and yet you make no move to hide it. You’ve waited far too long to prevent yet another miracle from happening. 

So when one of his hands leaves yours to turn off his faucet, you gulp. When it then slides up your neck, you watch everything happen in the mirror and don’t even notice how his icy digits take your breath away. On instinct, you tilt your head back just a bit, and your limbs lock when you witness Yoongi angling his head to capture your ear between his teeth. 

Lust coats every inch of your body in an instant, and you have to fight to not close your eyes. You desperately want to see all of this unfold because there’s no way you’ll get another chance. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, tilting your head to give him more canvas to paint with his hot tongue. His fingers tighten slightly around your column, and you moan at the way you can see their veins shift in his reflection. “Fuck.” 

He says nothing, using his thumb to brush along your jaw before sliding his palm down to squeeze one of your breasts. A whimper slips out of your mouth as your back arches forward, and you say his name even softer while his lips leave sparks all along your neck. 

“This is all you get for now, doll.” 

You moan again when you feel his other hand palm your ass, sinking in the depths of his voice, 

“You’re lucky I can’t—”

Pause. 

Shit, shit, shit!

Both of you snap your wet bodies toward the bathroom entrance at the same time, a burning smell intruding the space. 

“Fuck!” you gasp before exiting with him in tandem. “The pan!” 

Yoongi’s there before you are, quickly shutting off the stove and turning on the vent fan above it. While you hand him a mitt, you’re hurriedly swiping smoke from the air. 

“Open the front,” he instructs before he takes the pan off the heat, and you’re fast to obey, wondering just how long you were both heavily sidetracked. 

Because the food was almost done when you decided to be a menace, so who knows how overcooked everything is now. 

Damn it. 

No alarms end up going off, but you’re still apologetic as you sigh, “Sorry.” 

Yoongi shoots you a look. “For what?” 

“The food!” 

Is he not worried? Because you certainly are. You potentially wasted a bunch of his ingredients.

He shrugs. “No worries. I think we can save it.” 

“Okay.” 

Using a wooden spatula, Yoongi transfers all the food onto a dish, tilting his head to inspect all the charred parts. “Nah, yeah. We’re good.” 

“Whew. Okay,” you sigh again, but this time in relief. You would’ve felt truly cold in your wet garments if he did place any blame on your shoulders. 

But would he really ever do that? 

“Oh, I meant to tell you.” He waits until you flick your eyes back to his. “Your food was good.” 

And your mood is instantly brightened. 

If there’s one thing you’re confident about, it’s your cooking abilities. Years of having to fend for yourself molded you into an intuitive chef, so you know that you can at least do that if nothing else. But hearing praise about it come straight from him? It puts you way above the stars. 

“Told you,” you hum. “You didn’t have everything I wanted but it still turned out nice.” 

“What did I not have?” 

“I think you just ran out. Sesame oil.” 

“Oh, fuck. I meant to get more.” 

“It’s all good.” 

The both of you divvy up the food, hair and clothes dripping water onto smooth floors and conversation light. After the plates are made, all the water around the apartment is swept by towels—one of them being used to slap your ass, which you yelp at before getting revenge for immediately. 

After the two of you sit at the table, positions switched this time with you in the middle chair staring at the window, the environment settles into one of comfort. Only the sounds of your continued playlist and the vent fan mingle around your bodies. 

It’s almost perfect. Legitimately almost perfect. 

If only the first bite you took didn’t taste awful as hell. 

Apparently it isn’t just you—Yoongi’s face contorts when you shoot him a look, both of you slowly chewing and realizing that something went completely wrong.

Through a mouth full of food, you start to ask, “…Wha thu fu—”

Yoongi bursts into a garbled laugh at the same time you do, both of you getting rid of the bites in your own ways and chucking them straight into a bin. 

“Oh, god.”

“What the fuck did you do.”

“Hey!”

After boring holes straight into what’s lying on your plate, you determine that the burned bits, while they contribute to the alarming flavor, aren’t the only reason for the taste. Something happened with the actual seasoning. That had to be it. 

A light goes off in your head. 

“Oh,” you suddenly peep, feeling Yoongi’s eyes on you from behind. “I know.”

“What?”

“This is your fault.”

“How?”

You scoff as you turn, aiming a finger at the ground next to the oven. “When you bumped into me!”

Yoongi’s eyes avert while his mouth pushes up, and he feigns innocence, “I don’t think that happened.”

“It— Whatever.” You stare at the stove, slightly put out by your failed meal.

“Hmm.” His arm brushes yours as he walks by, taking his seat again and leaning against the back of his chair. Taking note of his perfectly fine vegetables, he taunts with an ask, “So do I win this time?”

“No.”

“Figured.” 

You continue to lament the food for a moment. Looking around the kitchen, you’re wondering how to fix it while your stomach simmers with rumbles. Damn.

It isn’t until your gaze sweeps across the same bowl of fruit that Yoongi placed in front of you a year ago that you get an alternative. 

Fully aware of the irony, you grab it and bring it to the table, suddenly shy when you delicately place its round shape down with a thud. 

Yoongi just looks at you with a loaded stare before huffing amusement from his nose, and you bite your lip to keep from smiling. “Whatever,” you brush him off. “I’m peeling these how I want.” 

Another low laugh escapes him as he shields his mouth with a hand, and the two of you finally share some semblance of a meal and call it a truce over tangerines. 

Things settle into a nice blanket of peace. There aren’t many words spoken, but it’s not awkward. Not strained. It’s as if the little fight you had earlier dispelled whatever lingering tension existed. 

You hum along to the current song until it transitions into the next, a classic that washes you in nostalgia.

Even Yoongi flicks his eyes to the speaker resting on his counter. “Shit, I haven’t heard this in...”

“Right?” Your head keeps bobbing. “I keep forgetting about it until it randomly comes on.”

He has a look on his face that you can’t quite pin down, but it’s nothing negative. If anything, you’re wondering what he’s thinking about. Is he thinking about the past? Maybe a memory this song lodged into his brain? 

Because it simply reminds you of back then. Back when you didn’t have tons of responsibilities and the only problems you had were your brother’s insistence and grades. 

Speaking of him, you remember the question you’ve been wanting to ask Yoongi since he mentioned something about his hair. 

“He said it’s been awhile since you went orange,” you whisper, looking at his drying strands. “Why now of all times?” 

“Mm.” He appears distant then, expression borderline wistful as he stares across the room. “Just felt like it.”

“I really like it.” 

Turning back to you, he smiles before pushing his plate away. His arms cross as he leans back, and you once again drown in his voice as he responds, “Thanks. I almost went with another color.”

You remember the other boxes. And frankly, you would’ve been destroyed either way. “The blonde?”

“Yeah. It was this or lighter.” 

“Oh, my god. I remember the time you went with like, mint.”

Huffs of amusement tumble onto his tabletop. “Shit, you remember that?” Yoongi asks through a grin. “Damn. I didn’t think about that. Should I?”

“No!” You cough before staring down at your food, your turn to avoid eye contact as he turns. 

Pent-up laughter comes through in his question. “Why?” 

Picking your head back up, you just shoot him a quick pout before looking away, remembering the fluttering you felt in your stomach every time you came across him back then. “Because I’d avoid the hell out of you.” 

Yoongi can’t keep in his laughter a second time, letting it out before yawning, “Definitely considering it now.”

Scraps of peeled orange skin litter the table, and it isn’t until Yoongi’s done with his third fruit that he starts dozing off. 

Noticing his leaned frame, you pipe up, “Yoongi?” 

He blinks before rubbing his eye. “Mm?” 

“You gonna nap now?”

“Yeah.” 

As much as you want to join him, you need to figure something out about your still very wet clothes. And do some more job hunting since, from the looks of things, he was a lot more productive than you were. While you may have gotten a head-start on the cooking battle, he’s miles ahead with general productivity. 

“Okay. I’ll do some more work.” 

“You sure? Didn’t you say you’d nap?”

“Ah…” You did. “Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi looks at you as if he already knows the answer to his next question. 

“You’re gonna take the couch again, huh?”

Sheepish, you purse your lips before looking away. Damn, he really can just read you like a book if he wanted to. Maybe those volumes under his coffee table are just decor, and people are the ones he reads the most. 

But you get a head shake and a smirk before he responds, “Suit yourself, doll.” 

You don’t get to reply how you want to because—oh, fuck—he’s already tugging his shirt off before heading into his room. Your eyes zero in on the jewelry he has resting on his neck, and you follow his rippling back muscles for a few seconds until you snap out of his trance. 

Is he going to sleep like that?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Why don’t you just take the bed! 

Oh, god, he’s coming back out with a towel on his head and handing one to you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, getting a nod in return. 

Quickly, you gather yourself while vacating your chair, picking up your peels while he does the same and trashing them in the kitchen. You’re the most aware of the heat radiating off his bare skin, but you have to hold it together. For everything’s sake, hold it together. 

“I’ll be in there,” Yoongi says while moving past you. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour or so.” 

“Take all the time you need,” you offer, eyes betraying you by giving him an obvious once-over. Your fingers grip your towel a bit tighter as you proclaim, “I’ll just be, umm. Out here.” 

He shoots you one more dashing smirk before turning around to head into his room, leaving the door open and your mind in a frenzy.

Maybe you will. 

No. 

…Maybe? 

You sigh as you shut your laptop with a click, leaving only the ambient sounds of the apartment into your ears. 

After Yoongi retired to nap, you were quick to shut off his speaker, forcing yourself back onto his sofa with determination to apply for one more listing. 

But, as time goes on, you can’t help but turn around to peek into his room. Wondering what he looks like when he sleeps. Wondering what he’s wearing, or not wearing right now. 

Maybe you will go in there. 

It’s not like he said you couldn’t. If anything, the open door serves as an open invitation. 

Still cold from your slightly damp clothes, you set your device down before slowly venturing through his place to get to his door. A door that you’ve already crossed way more times than you could have imagined. 

Looking around, you spot Yoongi on his usual side of his bed, comforter covering him just enough to show only the top of his bright, mussed hair. 

While you do want to take a nap, too, you don’t want to get in his sheets with your current clothes. They’re still way too wet, and the garments you have in your bag are dirty. 

Maybe… 

As you turn, you spot a shirt hanging on the back of his desk chair a couple paces away. How you didn’t see it when you went in here to get his speaker earlier, you don’t know. 

It’s big enough. Right?

Yoongi won’t mind. Possibly.

Thinking that you’ll just do something in return for yet another borrowed item, you quietly swipe the dark shirt before slipping into his bathroom to change. 

After engulfing yourself in his top, you realize it’s one of the comfiest you’ve ever worn. Screw borrowing this, you might just pay him for it. 

But. The pants are another issue; Yoongi didn’t have any lying around that you could covertly use. 

Well. 

Okay. Plan. Plan to wake up before he does. That way you can get up and put on hopefully dried bottoms before he even notices you aren’t wearing any. 

Why do you feel excitement instead of dread? 

No! 

Just nap, get up, and change right back into your clothes. 

Maneuvering into Yoongi’s bedroom, you breathe a small sigh of relief when you notice that he’s still fast asleep. 

And annoyingly, he still looks so damn handsome. 

You circle around the bed, arriving at the other side and trying not to overthink what to do. 

Whatever. You’re just napping. That’s it. 

Sliding under his covers as lightly as you can, you lower yourself impossibly slow, settling right against the edge and commanding yourself to remember the plan you came up with in the bathroom. What was it again? It was simple, right?

But before you could go over it again, your eyes already droop, and your vision goes dark as sheets and softness and rest lull you right to sleep.

When you awake, it’s deep into the late afternoon, sunset spilling into the cracks of Yoongi’s bedroom blinds and coating the walls in a color you’ve thought a lot about lately. 

Warmth and cologne smother your form as you nestle your head further into your pillow. All is good. You feel rested. 

Blinking slow, you stretch your body and freeze. 

Because the warmth you feel is not just due to blankets. But an arm slung around your waist. 

Oh, fuck. The plan. Oh, shit shit shit, you completely forgot that you were supposed to wake up before Yoongi— 

“You got some nerve.” 

Your breath hitches, nonexistent as you stutter, feeling the lightest of brushes on your shoulder. Shit, those are his lips, incredibly soft even through the thick material of his shirt on your skin. “I don’t...I don’t know what you mean,” you respond, eyes staring directly at his window. 

“Acting all innocent.”

Fuck, his post-sleep voice is so deep. You’ve heard it once before when he called you the night after you drove him home. But that was on the phone. 

Now? Hearing its rough texture but soft tone right in your ear? You’re not quite sure if you’re in his room or in a fantasy at this point. 

The hand on your waist starts to wander, sliding down your belly and hovering over a place that’s getting wetter by the second. “When you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Yoongi…”

You’re fully alert now, melting under his touch and sounds alone. The soft breaths on your shoulder dip onto your neck like fog in a valley, and his weight feels like a mountain, nothing but a pleasurable burden.

It’s been awhile since that summer day. The day that started on your fleeting demands and insistence alone. It should feel like so much time has passed but, being here now, all of those nights feel like nothing. You’ve traveled to another dimension entirely, where time is irrelevant and only his place exists. 

Yoongi’s hand finally presses onto your mound over his shirt, and you instinctively move your hips forward to push into him. Fuck! 

His quiet laugh is filled with amusement and something else, something dark and feral and toe-curling. You don’t know how you’re still conscious, still lucid, still not saying anything. 

Finally, you start to list your reasons for why you’re here, wondering if they’re actually excuses instead. “This was more comfortable.”

He definitely sees them as the latter. “Uh huh.”

“And my clothes were wet.”

“Mm.”

Keep going. Don’t mind the fingers ghosting over your thinly covered folds. Don’t. “I was gonna take the couch again…” 

“But you didn’t.”

“Sorry... I really wasn’t trying anything,” you breathe out, honest. 

Yoongi’s low laugh is deep. Impossibly deep. And it drags you down into an abyss that you can’t find a way out of. “Who said you need to apologize?” You feel his hand move from your center to your hip, gripping the flesh there in a warning squeeze. “I don’t think you realize what you’re asking for.” 

“And what is that?” 

Your ass is tugged back immediately, flush with his pelvis and something that has haunted your dreams. Moaning on contact, you think there’s a dark promise in his actions. A promise he better keep. 

“You said,” you gasp, “You said—” 

“Fuck what I said.”

“I…” You gulp down your nerves, both your stomach and your cunt fluttering with anticipation. “Wanted this so bad.” 

A deep hum rumbles behind your back, and you feel every single delicious vibration. It’s astounding how those sounds alone are enough to affect you between your thighs. “Wanted what.”

“You know what,” you sigh through a bitten lip.

“I do.” Yoongi kisses your shoulder, igniting your nerves and making you exhale. “I just like hearing you say it.” 

“Oh…” A sharp moan leaves your lips as Yoongi shifts his hand, and the first contact he has with your breast makes you flinch. The laughs you get in response only serve to turn you on further, and you don’t even realize why they’re happening until you hear dark amber seeping into your ear, 

“Innocent my ass.” 

“Shut up,” you deny in response. “I just don’t sleep in bras.”

“Mm.” He squeezes tighter. “If I remember right, you said you prefer shirts.” 

“Hmmm, almost.” You don’t know what causes you to say what you’re about to. Is it the lingering contentedness? The way you’re already this turned on? Frustration from not being able to just say what you want to taking over? Whatever it is, screw it, you’re gonna say it. 

“I’d prefer your shirts instead.” 

The payoff is immediate. Yoongi groans before swooping into your neck, kisses deep and hot on your column. Sighing, you give him as much access as you can, arching your back and pushing your ass into his front. 

This is a dream. Only a dream. The hand squeezing your breasts isn’t real, the tongue lolling over your ear is just your imagination, the growing hardness poking your back is just something you conjured in the deepest parts of your mind.  

Experienced fingers move down to your mound again, pulling light moans from your throat and forcing your eyes shut. Words are so, so hard to come by now. Harder than ever before. But you try to respond in any way possible. “I… Umm—”

“You don’t get to be shy this time,” he instantly growls in your ear, his hand leaving your cunt to pat your cheek. “And don’t try me.” 

Did he just…? 

When you’re too shocked to respond, he pats your cheek a bit harder, and the burn has your cunt pooling with pleasure and your mind going blank. “Got it?”

“Mm—”

Another pat before your chin is lightly snatched in his fingers. “Say it.”

“I won’t,” you gasp, loving the slight sting and wondering how he knows you would. “I won’t be shy.” 

“That’s a good girl.” Yoongi then slides his hand down to choke you while shoving his hips forward, making you moan impossibly high and catapulting your mind into space. “Caught me the fuck off guard last night, but. Not today.” 

“Huh?”

You still don’t know what he means by that. Didn’t you both get what you wanted last night? Yes, it was short-lived and a passing storm, but it was still a tiny piece of heaven. You wouldn’t trade what happened last night for anything. 

Until his next words bury themselves in your ear to be remembered for a long, long time, 

“I can finally take my time with you.”

“Fuck.” Oh, shit. Shit shit shit, this is gonna be how you go. You’re already sure of it. The only things you can say are expletives, nothing other than his name stored in your head. “Yoongi.” 

It doesn’t take him long to launch into action, hoisting your leg over his hip and allowing him access to everything. Instead of sliding your flimsy panties off, Yoongi repeats what drove you wild last night. A single finger slips underneath the back string before he peels them to the side, hot digits caressing your ass before giving a cheek a plush spank. 

“Missed this fucking ass.” 

After you can only moan in response, he slides his fingers up into your cunt from behind, folds already drenched in lust from his relentless aura alone. Your moans quickly evolve into whines as Yoongi finds a perfect spot way too quickly. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he growls behind you, “What the fuck?”  

You’re not even fully aware that your lower body is thrusting on his fingers, your voice coming out in a wisp, “Just for you.” 

“Fuck, doll,” he rasps out in your ear. “Come here.”

Pulling out his soaking fingers, he uses his other hand to grip your shoulder and force you to lie flat on your back. 

Fuck, your muscles are locked and your bones are thrumming. Your cunt is pulsing impossibly fast, longing to be filled by those digits again but also something a lot thicker and longer. 

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi grips the covers. When he swipes them off of your form in one smooth motion, air whooses in to fill the space. 

“Wait! I’m cold!”

“I’m sorry,” he says without giving a shit. Maneuvering on his knees, his stomach and chest flex with his movements, and your eyes widen at his bulge angrily poking his sweats. 

Fuck. You need it. You need whatever he’s giving you and you know that him taking his time only spells a slow defeat. 

But in spite of his earlier reaction, Yoongi still pulls the covers back over your stomach, and you feel your heart speed up its beating at the gesture. 

Honestly, you may not even need the covering anymore. His shirt is still fully on your upper body and, with a quick thought, you’re wondering why he hadn’t torn it off you yet. 

Your chills are promptly forgotten as he arrives in front of your folded legs. “Open up.”

Why are you still embarrassed? Why do you still feel so self-conscious at the prospect of him seeing you down there again? “Yoongi—”

“Relax.” He slides a reassuring hand over your knee. “You been eaten out since the last time?” 

Freezing, you don’t know why the words can’t escape your mouth. It’s like they’re just as anxious as you are. But you answer him. Truthfully. 

“Yeah.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence before anything is said. But his response holds nothing negative as he softly slips your panties off, 

“Good. You deserve it.” 

Something warm overcomes you as you feel your legs relax, and as they’re pried open, you still close your eyes in lingering embarrassment. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to this feeling, especially with him. 

“It was pretty lame, though.” 

You feel a shift below you as Yoongi lifts his head to watch your pout, and the air that leaves his nose precedes a wide grin of pity. “Damn. That sucks.”

You laugh. “What if I lied? What if I said they were better than you?” 

Ah. Probably not the best thing to say.

He prods a cheek with his tongue while aiming a taunt across your body. “I fucking dare you.” 

Fucking hell, you never wanted to follow through with something more in your life. Maybe it was the absolute correct thing to say. 

Mustering up courage, you fight a smile. “It wa—” 

Fuck! A lone finger slides along your folds, making you arch upward on contact. 

“What was that?” 

You want to strangle him with your thighs. “I said you’re a jerk!” 

Yoongi outright laughs before he responds, voice impossibly deep, “You’re not wrong.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Good.” 

You start to bubble with laughter until you feel Yoongi adjust himself and, when you peer down your nose, the sight that greets you almost makes you faint. 

Yoongi’s fully on his stomach, only the orange of his hair and the glint of his chains visible as he lazily positions his face between your thighs. Both his hands slide along your skin before securing them with tiny divots, and his brow quirks once before lust droops both of his eyelids. 

Tension weighs down all the air above your chest, and you still as he flickers his gaze up before giving a single kiss to your thigh. 

God, he’s so attractive. You really cannot fathom how you’re the one here right now. With him. Already, you feel another wave of want flood through you, arching your head back with closed eyes. “Please…” 

“If I’m doing this,” he suddenly says, voice gravelly and lax, “None of that quiet shit.” 

“What?”

A quick flick of his tongue ignites your entire leg on fire, making you tense on impact. “You heard me.”

“But—”

“If I don’t hear you, I’ll stop.”

“Fuck…” You’ve always been a bit on the muted, quieter side in bed. Not by choice. It’s just… before Yoongi, there hasn’t been a time you truly enjoyed things enough to be vocal. Frankly, you thought people lied if they were loud.

How are you supposed to change it up so—

“Don’t cover that fucking mouth,” is the last thing he says before diving in and making you wanna do exactly that. Holy fuck, you remembered this part so much tamer than it actually is.

His licks are slow and languid, but they are relentless. Every tiny swipe of his tongue causes shocks to run through you in jolts, twisting your body side to side in a lover’s dance. Yoongi’s lapping you up and swirling around your clit like he has all the time in the world. 

Goddamn, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Not only can he read you, but it’s like he’s studied you before even putting his hands on your flesh. He knows exactly what makes you lose control in the best and worst ways and doesn’t shy away from showing that knowledge off. At all. 

Are you loud enough? You’re certainly screaming in your head.

Apparently not. Because he stops.

Regret floods you in an instant. “Yoongi, please!”

“Louder.”

Even though you know the stupidly simple instruction, you can’t find it in yourself to oblige. 

But his fingers slide down your folds and up again, massaging your clit with the pad of his thumb. Shit! Maybe that will be enough to convince you. “What did I say?”

“Louder,” you whisper.

“Huh?”

“Louder!“ you moan after he pats your cunt for encouragement. Fuck, okay. That gets you somewhere. “You said louder.”

“And I mean it. So do it.”

“Okay,” you whisper, finding loose sheets on either side of you to grip. Your next one comes out at a higher volume when you realize how softly you agreed the first time, “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

Yoongi swoops his tongue down again, pressing into your folds while he continues to devour you like his last, parting meal. The sounds coming from his rougher licks push your head back into his pillow and, finally, a guttural moan shoves its way past your bitten lip. 

Once you start, you don’t stop.

Because there isn’t a single thought you can process. You’re pretty sure you’re saying things, or at least attempting to. But all that’s happening in your brain is a burst of pleasure, clouding your eyes and clawing at your soul. When you grip the sheets tighter, you let yourself go and moan out nearly every curse you know. 

The low growl you get in response bends your toes, and Yoongi mercifully lets you breathe when he pauses. “Just like that, babe. Lemme hear you.” When your legs are pried open even more, Yoongi takes a moment to admire his view. 

If you weren’t shy before, you definitely are now, skin burning under the intensity of his blown-out eyes. Your face scrunches in embarrassment, but he isn’t paying attention. 

“Taste so fucking good.”

Once more, Yoongi laps at your cunt, every flick of his hot tongue destroying you and causing your vision to blank. Words and phrases gush from your mouth, but they’re all unintelligible. You can’t help but lock your legs, wanting to close them to lessen the overwhelming pleasure. 

A soft laugh puffs beneath you. “Relax, baby girl.” 

“Sorry.” 

“S’ok.” Yoongi assures you with a tap to your locked up leg. “Breathe.” 

You do tame your muscles for a bit, but Yoongi’s tongue still feels too good, darting into your folds at random to give you delicious shocks. Once, twice, a third time that has your entire pelvis arching off the bed. 

Fuck!

Don’t be shy; relax your body. How are you failing simple orders? Does he know how hard these things are for you? Does he know even the easiest of tasks become near impossible under his control? Everything feels just out of reach. 

Even coming. 

Because Yoongi’s doing just enough to bring you to the edge but hold you there. His movements offer little twinges of pleasure, but nothing more.

And he knows it’s driving you up a wall. He’s playing you like a pro and you’re suffering, writhing on the bed and creasing his sheets in your fists. 

Between your fumbling and unintelligible phrases, you do end up saying something coherent. And it catches the attention of the fiend between your thighs. 

He stops, lifting his mussed head and staring down at your form. “What was that?” 

“Please let me come.”

“No.”

Motherfucker! “Please!”

“Then say my name.” 

Have you not been? It’s the only goddamn thing on your mind. “Yoongi! Fuck!”

Frustrated and running severely hot, you rip the covers off of you, needing more space to breathe and let out your pent-up lust. 

“Finally.” 

Before you know what he means, you feel Yoongi shift and grapple your legs, tugging you further down the bed. 

A whine leaps out of your throat at the swift yank, and you’re so thrown into bliss that you don’t even realize what awaits you next. 

Turns out, he pulled you far down enough to position you at the very edge of his mattress, and when you look up to see why, your brain empties entirely. 

Oh, fuck. 

Yoongi’s kneeling. 

And his toned arms are fully wrapped around your thighs so you can’t mo—

Holy fuck! 

His name tears from your mouth as you succumb to rough drags of his tongue. The grip he has on your legs is harder than ever, pinning you in place so that the only thing you can do is cry out. Below you, Yoongi worships you with the most unholy sounds you’ve ever witnessed.

Every time you attempt to squeeze your legs together, he pries them apart and holds them with determined fingers, continuing to slurp you out until you are nothing but a writhing mess. You suffer at the sight of his hands on your thighs, veins angry and protruding when he clenches them into your skin.

Fuck! You wanna come. You want release. All you feel is intensity building in your center and it’s going to consume you whole if it stays untamed. 

Tell him. Tell him you need it need it need it. 

But you can’t. Only his name claims the air above your mouth, over and over and over again.

“Yoongi! Yoongi, please!” 

Finally. Finally, he leaves you with a quick suck to your clit before raising a hand to slap your cunt, jolting your body upward. 

“Come, doll. Come so I can fuck your brains out.” 

Holy fucking shit.

It’s as if those words were the key to unlock your deepest desires, and you gush around his tongue, maybe even more than you did all those months ago against that door. 

There’s a gravelly hum simmering between your legs, but your head is already lulling to the side as your body fully takes over, leaving you unable to process anything else. Every muscle and bone locks and thrums as waves surge through you, spilling out of your center and onto Yoongi’s drenched jaw. 

Honestly, you don’t know how long your high lasts. All you know is that you’re already sagging into his sheets, sweat coating your skin in a light sheen. 

The one thing that brings you clarity is a wet kiss to your quivering thigh, then another further down, and finally one more to the side of your knee. 

Exhausted, you can barely lift your head to stare down at the person of all your affections. But you make a flimsy attempt, catching a quick glimpse of his expression as he delicately holds your other leg in his palm. 

Still so damn attractive. He’s probably never had to worry about appearances a day in his life.

Staring right at your lidded eyes, Yoongi slides his soaking mouth along your skin as he slowly sets your limb down with care, straightening his body to lean over you and plant the sloppiest kiss on your lips. 

You expect the taste this time, sighing into his touch and even darting out your tongue to welcome more. The muffled moan you get encourages you to keep going, and you sling tired arms around his neck to bring his chest flush against yours, thin gold inching down the slope of your sweaty neck. 

Already, you want more. More more more and something that only Yoongi can give you. 

When he pulls away, he tugs your bottom lip with his teeth, groaning low. “So perfect.” 

Lies. “I’m not.” 

“You are.” 

Whether he’s lying or not, you don’t want Yoongi to say these things. Not here. Not when you’re at your most vulnerable and most prone to catching feelings you can’t feel. Ever. 

Grasping for a change of attention, you fist small sections of his shirt. “Take these off,” you pout, mirroring last time. And you try your best to ignore the shit grin he flashes you when you continue, “All of it this time.”

Mouth still covered in your essence and saliva, Yoongi obliges, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Kneeling over you, he yanks his shirt over his head and flings it away before moving to the side to remove his sweats. Empowered, you grab at his dick before his bottoms fully come off, and he chuckles sinfully at you while throwing his pants to the floor.

“Someone’s bold today.” 

“And?”

“Fucking love it. Move up.” 

You try your best to, frowning when you get a menacing grin. Ass. 

But your sore muscles make it to the pillows again, and Yoongi leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Your eyes squeeze shut while a sigh slides from your mouth into his. 

Caught up in pleasure, you want to return the favor. He just gave you a mind-numbing orgasm just from his tongue alone. Again. It’s the least you can do. 

Besides. You’ve been thinking about having his dick in your mouth way too many nights to admit out loud. 

“Yoongi,” you whine. “Lemme suck you off.” 

There’s a low hum before he moves his hot lips to your neck, coaxing shivers there as he plants tender touches along your column. “As much as I want that dirty mouth of yours,” he whispers against your ear, “This isn’t about me.”

“What?” 

Wait. Is he serious? You both have all the time in the world but he’s still determined for this to just be for you? 

“Told you. I’d make it up to you.” 

Fuck. Don’t think about it. Don’t overthink it. 

“If you say so…” You whisper back, arching upward when you feel a hand ghost over your chest. 

“I do.” Yoongi then shifts his hand down to the hem of his top still covering your body. “Now gimme my shirt back.” 

You obey with a laugh, knowing he’s teasing and starting to think he fully intended to keep it on you until now. 

Raising your arms, you let him take it off, and he slides it up like you’re a delicate package. When you’re fully uncovered, he admires your contents like he’s never seen them before. 

You don’t know how to react.

Your eyes flicker between the dark orbs hiding behind orange locks. What’s he really thinking? Why do you feel like you can’t breathe? 

His staring goes so long that you move to cover yourself, to which he latches both of your wrists and pins them above you in response. 

A whoosh of breath leaves you as he insists, “None of that.” 

“I—”

“I’m serious.” 

You gulp, feeling goosebumps take over your body. “…Okay.” 

Silent, Yoongi stares at your timid expression before lowering his eyes back to your chest, and you can feel your nipples hardening just under his gaze alone. With your arms locked in his hands above you, you think you should feel trapped. Same with your legs held captive in his arms. But, in both instances, you feel free. How that’s the case, you will still wonder about, days and days from now. 

You hear a grunt before Yoongi leans down to take a nipple in his mouth, and the way his tongue swipes it has you thrashing in an instant. 

“Yoongi—” 

Fuck. Why did he pin your arms! You wanna grab him, run your hands along his smooth skin, rake your nails down his bare chest. 

But he doesn’t let you. Every time you try to escape his grasp, Yoongi simply squeezes and holds your arms back down again. Damn him! 

Another swipe of his tongue, a lick, a suck—everything he’s doing, he’s doing with purpose. And shocks pulse throughout your body with each touch. 

Your mewls are constant, differing in pitch and length but rising high when he drags his tongue from one breast to the next. As soon as he latches on to your other nipple, you feel like your back snaps in two when you arch so fast. 

His groans whoosh around your skin when he keeps pleasuring you, and you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each flick of his tongue. You know you’re seeping onto his sheets by now, but you don’t care in the slightest.

This can’t be happening. Just his mouth on your chest is almost enough to drive you to the edge again? God. It would be an absolute embarrassment if you came from this alone. 

But you just might. Holy fuck, you might.

When Yoongi mercifully releases you, he slowly hovers above your heaving chest, watching it rise and fall and covered in his saliva. “Still so sensitive,” he murmurs, and you huff in return. 

“Let me go,” you plead.

“Hmmm.” After looking away and making his necklace sway between your tits, he arrives at an annoying conclusion. “No.” 

“Please!” You wrestle in his grip, and feel your skin reacting to the way he watches your chest bounce with your struggle. Fuck, you’re so turned on and he knows it. But the conflict is ripe with the way you want him to keep pinning you down, and the way you want to launch yourself at him. “I wanna feel you.” 

Yoongi responds by thrusting himself against your core, and a moan flies out of your throat. Oh, god, he is impossibly hard. How is he controlling himself? How has he not rushed to slam his cock inside you yet? 

He really is focused on you and you alone. 

“There.” 

“No!” You squeeze your wrists tight while moving again, caught up in a whirlwind of pleasure and feelings and emotions you don’t want to name. “I mean, yes, but—”

Yoongi laughs before diving to attack your neck, and your body goes into overdrive as he keeps lapping and kissing there, too. Your legs quake underneath his as moans flow from your throat more freely than ever.

“Please,” you finally sigh with eyes shut and heart open. “I can’t wait anymore, baby. I need you.” 

“Never thought you’d ask.” 

Abruptly, he slides his chest to the side, pressing his beautiful body over you to retrieve a condom. While he rummages through his drawer, you glide your freed hands up his chest, noticing with intrigue when he hisses as your nails rake over his nipples. 

Mm. Noting that for later.

When he kneels to slide a condom on, you watch him with reverence, wanting to tell him everything that you’ve wanted to say but were too shy to before now. 

But now, you’re drunk on lust. Lust and something more and you’re throwing all previous caution to the wind. Because this man deserves as much praise as he’s giving you. You’re just regretful that it’s taken this long to realize that. 

“You’re so hot,” you whisper, letting go. 

And Yoongi smirks while the tiniest huff of amusement leaves him. 

Wait. 

Was that a hint of shyness? That doesn’t seem characteristic of him. “Thanks,” he simply responds as he widens your spent legs to position himself in between. 

Oh, no. Hell no. He’s not brushing you off when you mean every word you say. “I mean it.” You watch him with furrowed brows, still nervous but incredibly determined. “You keep saying I’m attractive, but… You’re just not fair.” 

Yoongi’s smile beams onto your prone form as he leans down to seal his lips onto yours, and you don’t miss how he’s avoiding responding through words this time. 

And somehow, you’re more attracted to him now than you’ve ever been.

“Careful,” he murmurs right against your mouth. “Don’t gas me up too much.” 

“I dunno,” you respond with a little smirk of your own, feeling like you have the upper hand and thinking it’s quite enjoyable. “I think you like it.” 

“You know what else I like?” 

As he slides his cock along your folds, your upper hand is deftly lost. Gone. Fallen to the wayside. But you don’t care. You’re ready. “I like that, too.”

Yoongi’s stare burns through your cheeks as he asks, “And what else do you like, doll.”

Fuck. He wants to talk about this now? Your teeth catch your bottom lip. “I…”

“Hmm?” Grabbing his cock in one hand, he lightly slaps it rapidly against your cunt, causing whimpers to tumble from your open mouth. 

God, you love that. And so much more. 

You wanna tell him these things, but you’re so embarrassed. Just like before, all you need to do is speak your mind, but the words just. Won’t. Come out. 

Screw it. 

Digging deep, you seize your shyness by the throat and force yourself to talk. Yoongi is doing the fucking most for you, so you can at least offer him this much. 

“Your hands.” 

The widened eyes you get are quickly covered by blinks. “...My hands?”

“No, your toes.” 

A snort. 

“But also… I liked what you called me before.”

Yoongi leans down to softly kiss along your clavicle, and it’s enough to calm your nerves and relax your tongue. “Before?”

“You know… Like different names.”

“Mm.” 

“So…” You turn your head to grant him more access to your throat. “Stuff like that.” 

“Stuff like that, huh? What, you want…” He shifts up to put his mouth right against your ear, and his rasp drags across your very soul and sets it on fire, 

“...You wanna be my cumslut?” 

Fuck. 

Shivers erupt in your body. Breaths suddenly come out short. Everything in you springs to life but freezes all at once. Oh, fuck. You’re trembling.

“You do, don’t you?” You can feel rather than see the devilish smirk on his face, and it buries itself in his words. “Dirty girl.” 

Just like that, the shyness is back with a vengeance, blown out like a choked flame. Your mind is thrown into a manic frenzy and you don’t know what to do with the chaos taking it over.

Yoongi laughs slow at your sudden silence. “Say it then.” 

What the fuck! “Yoongi…” 

“Uh uh. Say it.” 

As he slides his cock along your folds, you wince at the wide head but welcome the burn. How is he still able to control himself? You’re a goddamn mess. “I wanna be…” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Fuck it. Say it! 

“Wanna be your cumslut,” you whisper, burying your head into the junction of his shoulder immediately afterwards. Embarrassment floods your body, only to be ignited when Yoongi’s high staccato laughs rumble your bones. 

“Not bad,” he comments, slapping the side of your ass. “We’ll get you there.” 

Frustration leaks out of your mouth as you completely miss what he means by that. “I don’t know what it is,” you groan. “I wanna say things but they just.. Don’t wanna come out.” 

“You say it like that’s a bad thing.” 

“It isn’t?” 

Yoongi leans back to finally face you head on. “Nothing you’re doing is bad. You just haven’t done it enough.” He squeezes your hip before shooting you a wink. “Amateur.” 

“Fuck you.” 

That seems to catch him off guard because his laugh is quick. “Yes, please,” he groans. 

“Okay,” you assure, fully relaxed now that a lot of your thoughts have been laid out. Admitting some things you’ve wanted to say for months makes you feel good. More than good. Especially since Yoongi didn’t judge you for a single one. “Do it.” 

“Say less.” 

When he enters, your inhale is sharp. But you remember to relax this time, allowing yourself to breathe immediately while he slowly buries himself to the hilt. 

Both of your moans are enough to fill his entire room. 

Damn, you feel full. So, so full. Impossibly so.

With a quick drop of his head, Yoongi hisses an admission to your chest, “Fuck, I’ve missed this pussy.” 

And you can only whine in response. You’re already fluttering around him, eyes surely darkened to hell and back. The way he fills you is perfect and you don’t know how you’ve gone this long without feeling him lodged inside of you. For a moment, you feel like this is exactly how things are supposed to be. 

You wonder if Yoongi feels any semblance of the same thing.

“So tight,” he grits out, teeth clenched behind his lips as he starts to thrust upward. 

“Fuck!” You throw your head back on pure instinct, your hands snapping to his bulging biceps and squeezing. “Feels so good.” 

“Shit, baby.” Yoongi picks up the pace immediately, and you’re loving how you can finally see him break. 

That’s the Yoongi you want. You want to see him at his worst just as he wants the same for you. It’s this thought alone that has you quick to command, “Faster. Harder. Please, Yoongi, fuck me harder.” 

“Fuck.” 

Raising his body, he sets himself on the balls of his feet, hauling you onto his thighs. With a whine, you melt at the sight of his naked body, abs rolling with each breath and chest that same shade of fluster and effort. Sweat coats his brow as he looks at himself sliding out of your split legs, and he grabs your hips before proclaiming through a gravelly laugh, 

“Gonna fuck you stupid.” 

Before slamming himself back inside. 

The yell you release is the loudest you’ve been, and Yoongi’s the epitome of satisfied as he launches into a devilish pace. “That’s right, baby girl,” he growls before biting his lip and furrowing his brows. “Scream like a slut for me.” 

“Fuck! Yoongi!” 

The new position has you mewling as his cock buries inside your folds again and again. Jitters occupy every inch of your body as your limbs go limp and your jaw goes slack. With each penetration, you feel yourself floating higher and higher off the bed. You’re never touching ground again. Forever levitation is your new plane of existence. 

“Touch those tits for me,” he demands, voice rough with exertion.

And you slide your fingers in your mouth before doing so, catching his attention immediately and making him groan out your name.

“What the fuck.” 

You hum while still licking your salty digits, popping them out of your lips before groping both of your breasts at once. The hiss you get in return sets butterflies free to roam your belly. 

Because you wanted to be much nastier the next time you saw him. Giving him that new evidence he didn’t have until now. Yoongi doesn’t know about the times you pleasured yourself while thinking of him, trying your hardest to recall every touch he left on and in your body.

You want him to remember you. No second guessing this part. You’ve had many, many nights to think about it. 

After a roll of your chest, you squeeze your tits together, loving how you have every ounce of Yoongi’s attention as he stutters inside of you. When he throws his head back with a grunt, you gnaw on your lip and wonder if you’re going to rub it to hell. 

Snapping his gaze back to you, Yoongi suddenly lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, holding you by your ankle while keeping his relentless pace. Your lust is so loud that you almost don’t hear him, 

“You been practicing, huh.”  

It takes you a few seconds to lie, “No.”

“Liar.”

A laugh. “Caught me.” 

“I’ll always catch you,” Yoongi says offhandedly as he keeps pounding into you, leaning forward and hitting a spot that rolls your eyes back for a brief moment. His breath is short and his teeth clamp down on his lower lip as he grits out, “Fuck!” 

When your legs start to shake, Yoongi lets them drop, falling down to kiss you like his life depends on it. 

Thrumming with want, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. 

Even though this time is completely different from the first, you’re enjoying it all the same. Possibly even more so after all the events of last night and today. It almost feels…

Fuck! 

Yoongi’s next thrust proves incredibly deep, tantalizingly slow, and he grabs at your hip before changing his angle, hitting a spot that has both of you groaning in tandem. 

“Yoongi…” You kiss him again because you simply missed him so fucking much—not possibly because of anything else. 

And your hunger is matched when he presses his lips down at the same time he launches your body back. 

Your cunt pulses around his cock as he continues to go slow, and it’s a sensation you can get used to. The telltale energy inside of you starts its winding, tighter and tighter as he keeps sliding his body along yours. 

It’s after he suddenly decides to shove his cock all the way in that you yelp. And when Yoongi doesn’t move an inch, your pulses quicken just as your breath does because what the fuck why does this feel so good? Why do you feel every sense heightened and like you can come any second? 

“This feels… Oh, fuck—”

“Holy shit.”

“Oh, shit, I’m cl—” You don’t understand! How can it feel this good when he’s not even doing anything? Fucking hell, your cunt is milking him at an alarming pace and you’re almost at your climax already. You’re gonna come. You're gonna and it’s approaching fast. “I’m so close!”

“I feel you, babe, fuck!” 

You can’t take it anymore. 

Breaking, you let go. 

“I’m coming,” you whine, your body shattering with your orgasm and a multitude of feelings sprinting from your center. It’s almost blinding how good it feels, and you hear Yoongi groaning words above you but you have no fucking clue what they are because you’re so gone. Absolutely lost. Your lips only chant his name. Because your mind doesn't have the occupancy for anything else. 

“Holy shit,” Yoongi hisses as you continue to squeeze around him, and with a cloudy mind, you think he’s actually coming, too. But you aren’t quite sure because your body is frozen while your cunt feels molten with waves of heat. Oh, god, are you still clenching? Holy fuck.

Then.

Bit by bit. 

You float back to the ground. Settling into damp sheets and feeling like a human again—a human wracked with exhaustion and satiated completely. There’s a burden on your chest, but you welcome it. You welcome it all, because it’s him.

Peeling open eyes you didn’t even know were closed, you only see Yoongi’s head resting on your chest, bright hair tickling the side of your face. 

Your voice comes out cracked with continued use as you huff, “Holy shit.” 

Yoongi’s puff of amusement rolls down your shoulder. “Yeah.” 

“What the hell even was that.” 

“I don’t know.” 

Unwittingly, you bring a hand up to caress his hair. “I’ve never come that hard.” 

“Same.” 

The tiny laugh you expel is because you don’t believe him, but you don’t say anything more. Lying here is precious and riddled with too many traps you can fall into. So you absentmindedly run your damp fingers through his strands, breathing settling into a normal pace.

You can’t move because he’s still weighing you down, but you aren’t gonna be the first to say anything. No. You’re going to stay in this tiny moment forever until he kicks you out. 

So his next breathy statement throws you completely off-guard,

“Never gonna be convinced.” 

The implication behind those words makes you outright laugh, and you can feel Yoongi’s cheeks grow with a hidden smile. 

After you change into the clothes that Yoongi lends you, your steps cross back into his bedroom. 

Instead of lying down passed out like last time, he’s now leaned against his headboard, typing away on his phone while the TV next to his desk provides the only light in the room.

You’re wondering what he could be doing when he suddenly turns to you. His eyes roam over your body before he asks, “What do you feel like eating?” 

“Oh,” you blink, not knowing that you were going to stay even longer. This day just keeps getting stranger and stranger, but in the best way. “Mmm. Surprise me.” 

Yoongi grins before turning back to his device, the glow on his face a mix of moving blues and white. “If you hate it, it’s your fault.” 

“I mean, I can eat later.” 

“Well, I’m gonna order. So eat with me.” 

“Or else what?” 

Challenges always seem to get his most immediate responses. You smile inwardly as he cocks a brow your way. “You wanna go there?”

“Maybe.”

“Goddamn. At least gimme an hour or two.” 

“For what?” 

Yoongi slowly aims a smirk at the television instead of you. “Nothing, doll.” 

Nerves quelled by whatever the hell you just did, you walk your sore legs to his bed. Deciding to join him against his headboard, you keep a respectable, annoying distance away while you halfway pay attention to whatever show is on. 

Yoongi decides on something to get, and he puts his phone down before quietly watching alongside you. 

Curious and breaking the silence, you ask, “Have you seen this?” 

“No.”

“Neither have I.” 

“Heard it was good.”

“I heard it was trash.”

Yoongi blows amusement through his nose, and the atmosphere settles into one of comfort as you both wait for the food. 

You ask more about his many hair colors, and he tells you stories that you don’t know about. They mostly involve your brother—because why wouldn’t they?—but some of them don’t. 

These are the ones that intrigue you the most. Because they’re pieces of his life that he decides to share with you for your own entertainment. Not simply because your brother was present. 

When the food comes, you join Yoongi at his table and rave about how it’s something you haven’t had in forever, digging right in and not caring about the laughs aimed your way. The conversation from before flows right into this room, moving from topic to topic until you bring up something he mentioned earlier. 

“So… About that practice.” 

Yoongi raises a brow, mouth full but in a smirk nonetheless. After he swallows, he teases, “Look at you. I knew you were lying.”

“It wasn’t practicing if they just happened.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah…” You think back to the times you’re about to mention, shaking your head and wanting to hide instead of spilling. Why did you even bring this up? Why are you going to tell him secrets he doesn’t really have to know? “My friend took me to some bougie club downtown. Joji, I think? I dunno, things just happened.” 

Yoongi stares at you for seconds, unblinking, before taking a bite. 

Tearing your embarrassed gaze from him and onto your food instead, you continue, “Then another time was some guy I knew from uni but. That didn’t last.”

Leaning back into his chair, Yoongi stuffs both hands into his sweats. “You seem pretty chill about it all now.”

“I am, actually,” you smile, lifting your eyes back to him. “‘Cus of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now I know what I want.” 

“Good,” Yoongi says, looking into his living room. You wonder what’s on his mind before he turns back to you with a joking expression. “Now let’s work on you asking for it.” 

“Fuck you,” you laugh. “That part is gonna take a lot longer.”

“It’s adorable.”  

“Well, so are you when you’re tired. So we’re even.” 

Silence. 

Complete silence blankets the room, and you feel its effect immediately. The look on Yoongi’s face is priceless, and you have to hold your tongue when he asks,

“Huh?” 

Your smile grows and grows. “Did I say something?” 

And your name slips out of his mouth in warning, but you’re so giddy that he has no clue that you keep teasing. “Mm. Not telling.” 

Yoongi pushes his finished bowl away from him, staring at you all the while. “You’re gonna.”

“Nope.” 

“Try it.” 

“Nu uh.” 

“Do—”

“Nope! You won’t get anything outta me!” In a rush, you bolt from your empty plate and back into his room. 

But this time, unlike after your stunt in the kitchen, Yoongi’s already right behind you and grabbing your waist, laughing darkly and warning,

“You better fess up or else.”

“Or what, hu—” 

Tickling? Cheater! 

You jerk forward with a yelp, hating him for getting you so easily. “No! Yoongi!”

“All you gotta do is tell me.”

“No!”

“Real simple, doll.” 

“I’ll never tell!” 

Used to all the times you’ve wrestled your brother, you deftly twist your arms around in an attempt to catch him off-guard, going for his body behind you. 

“Fuck!” Yoongi shoots out before hissing in amusement, jerking when your fingers connect with one of his thighs. You use the opening to wriggle a bit out, but he’s quick to recover and goes for your weak spots again, holding your arms down as you both struggle with puffs of strained effort and laughter. 

He’s ticklish. Yoongi is ticklish. 

Good to know. 

“You’re gonna regret that,” he cautions in your ear.

“I know your weakness now, old man,” you cackle back, “You can’t hurt m—No!” 

Mirth bursts from your mouth when he attacks both your sides at the same time. You try to wiggle out of his grip, but the backs of your knees hit against the edge of his bed, causing you to fold and bring him down.

When the two of you hit the mattress with a small puff, there’s an extended period of quiet as you settle your heartbeats. Only the sounds of your breathing could be heard, unless your thoughts are so loud that they reach him. Dear god, you really hope they don’t. Yoongi doesn’t ever need to know what you’re thinking and feeling right now.

Finally, his voice cuts through the air, 

“You’re so weird.”

“Thanks,” you chirp. “You’re ticklish.” 

“Fuck off.” Yoongi looks toward his ceiling while bending an arm behind his head. “I hate it.” 

It’s such a normal, human thing to be, but maybe that’s exactly why his statements make you laugh. Because you’re starting to realize how normal and human he really is. The image you have of him is being torn apart and reconstructed into something real, and what’s real is more magical than your imagination. 

Ignoring the pang in your chest, you laugh, “It’s not like you have to deal with that every day.”

“I dunno now with you around.”

…What? 

No. 

Don’t overthink that. 

“Oh, yes,” you respond with a giggle. “Now you really have to avoid me at parties.”

But Yoongi doesn’t respond to you out loud, only a small huff leaving his nose. 

…Did you say something wrong? 

A slight wave of panic starts to swell in your mind, but it doesn’t gain traction because you hear a soft, 

“How much longer?” 

Confused, you turn to face him, admiring his side profile and wishing yours looked half as nice. “For what?”

Yoongi pushes up on his side, peering down at your prone form from behind loose orange locks. His words send tingles down your spine, 

“How much longer do I get you?”

You wonder why he says it like that. Why does he sound so… different? Apprehensive? 

It’s almost like he thinks you don’t want to stay. 

Are you giving him that impression? 

Because you want to stay, but you also don’t want to overstay. After all, you work tomorrow, and you didn’t bring most of the things you need for bedtime when you left. Because why would you have? You had no idea you would be able to spend this much time with him. 

Deciding to address his question and not his tone, you prepare a response. The rational side of you wins, but you aren’t happy about it. “I gotta wake up early tomorrow… And I kinda need to make up for everything I didn’t get to do last night. To get ready.” 

“Mm.”

“And I don’t wanna overstay…”

“Hmm.”

He starts sliding a hand over the second of his shirts that drape over your body today, lightly palming a breast before slipping his fingers up your throat. 

You sigh under his touch. “So… an hour?” 

“That long?”

You hear the sheets move as Yoongi moves his head down, and you feel the slight tickle of his bangs as he places a kiss on your neck. You let out a soft moan with each pass, tilting to the side to give him more of you than you should. And extra.

When he speaks, his voice burns your ear, forcing your eyes shut and your mouth open.

“Then good luck walking outta here.” 

It’s two hours later that you’re in Yoongi’s car, headed to an empty house with a mind filled to the brim. 

Your entire body is going to be sore come morning, but you don’t care in the slightest. Everything was worth it. You don’t think the events of this weekend will ever leave the treasure chest you decide to lock them inside. 

When you pull up to your house, you instinctively scan the area, hating that you have to be so alert. Hating that the two of you have to be so careful. 

Back to reality you go.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything when you look around, but when you’re about to open your door, he speaks, 

“Listen.”

Turning, you tense, really, really hoping that he’s not going to drop a ball on you after one of the best days of your life. “Hmm?” 

“This is just for the week, got it?” 

Huh? 

The week? 

You blink. “What is?” 

Yoongi looks down at his lap before prodding a cheek with his tongue. When you wait for him to elaborate, he simply fishes for something in his pocket and lazily holds it out for you. 

And you can only stare, and stare, and stare some more.

A key.

A fucking key. 

Your brain overflows with more thoughts than you can handle, and for a split second you literally cannot form words. Your hands tighten around your bag and the door handle and your heart most definitely skipped multiple beats. The only thing you can finally say is a shock-laden, disbelieving, “Yoongi, what the fuck?” 

He ignores your question entirely, his eyes focused on you instead of the object of your disarray. “I don’t know how the next few days are gonna go, but. Use it whenever.”

What the fuck is happening. Literally what. Wh—. You have no words. “I don’t…” 

“It’s just a key, doll. Don’t overthink it.” 

“I”—you nod, softly taking the spare from his rough hands and gripping it in your fingers—“Okay.” 

“Find something that makes you happy.”

“Huh?”

Yoongi sets a forearm on his steering wheel, and your gaze snaps to the veins running along its smooth road. “A job. Or whatever. It’ll make a difference.”

You nod, head packed with information and wondering where this is coming from all of a sudden. Maybe he’s referring to all the job hunting you were doing today. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right.” Yoongi gives you and his spare a final look. “Just text me if you end up using it.”

Nodding, you blink before responding with a low, “I will. Good night, Yoongi.” 

With this unbelievable slew of events that cap off an exhilarating day, you leave his car and walk up the path to your house. It isn’t until you unlock your place and step inside that you turn around to see Yoongi waiting, only leaving when you acknowledge him from your entryway. 

After he drives off into the night, you can only stand in place, quietly shutting your door and slipping your bag from your shoulder.

Staring at the key he gave you. 

…Yeah.

What’s that you said about fireworks again? 

Right.

You might be in trouble. 

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tbc. (: