I haven’t stopped thinking about it. All day. MIN YOONGI...
He didn’t just throw his money at it. Didn’t just offer some nice words...
He built something. With time. Heart. Actual presence.
As someone with light autism and ADHD, whose amygdala straight up doesn’t work right (not experiencing fear or overreacting completely), whose even been turned off by foster families, changed elementary school too many times (and I never told anyone about the last two facts before)? This hits. Hits deep. Deeper than words. That’s why his lyrics are inked onto the back of my neck. His music got me through. His honesty made me feel seen.
And now? This center exists. For kids like me. Because of him. Because he showed up.
He helped create the MIND program. Volunteered for months. Sat with those kids. Made music with them. Helped them open up. This wasn’t a performance... this was SO real.
He said he has two dreams... being that old man on stage with a guitar... and becoming a therapist. To help the ones coming after him.
He didn’t just say it, I know he meant it.
I’m studying social work, focusing on child psycholog and youth welfare. Soon... heading abroad again for my master’s in international social work. And I swear. I will work my everything off. Every. Single. Day. Until I make it...
Because this? This is the biggest fuel. The purest motivation I could ever have.
I've been crying. Laughing. Quietly tearing up all day.
My heart just... feels right. Settled.
I’ll never find the word. Never. Not for this. Not for him... EVER
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
warnings mentions of a toxic ex, overly insecure oc
read me ahhh hello! ik the divider isn’t all the way aligned idk why it won’t fill in the space i tried :(
songspiration m.list
He was too difficult when you met him, too shy, he didn’t speak much and that made things even harder. He was reluctant to let you in.
And when he finally did you couldn’t have been happier.
But the more he let you in the more you pulled back, the more you knew him, the sweeter he was, the more afraid you grew.
Afraid to give yourself another chance at love, not again not after him. But he was so insistent, so willing to catch you if you fell. And like the love struck fool you were you dove head first. He was there, he caught you, he was there for you, he loved you, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough for you.
You had too much doubt, too much baggage.
He was there each time you accused him of his eyes wandering, his gaze too fond and friendly for another woman he was there each time, he comforted you hoping that you’d see him differently, trust him.
But it wasn’t enough.
Your self esteem was too fickle, too broken for repair no sweet words of affection could fix what he had broken.
“Baby—“ Yoongi was met with the sound of the door slamming instead of a response. He closed his eyes to calm himself as he turned off the car. He joined you at your front porch where you stood arms crossed staring straight ahead at the door. He watched you, waited for you to get angry that he wasn't making any moves to unlock it.
And it worked.
You huffed uncrossing your arms, “Yoongi-“
“What was that? Talk to me.” His worried eyes searched your face for the woman he knew, the woman he loved, but when you were like this—in your head—he couldn’t find her.
You scoffed, “Talk to you? You seemed more interested in that blonde bitch than me, all night.” You sneered your eyes narrowing, Yoongi shook his head, wetting his lips. He reached for you, but you stepped back not allowing him to touch you, he sighed, dropping his hands.
“Baby, I was not looking at her and certainly not in that way.” Yoongi frowned.
“I understand, Yoongi, I get it, I’m too much,” you pointed at yourself, “she's pretty, convenient, you want that? You can have it.” Yoongi didn’t even know what to say because he wasn’t sure how you two even got here.
It was supposed to be a nice relaxing date night. You both needed the time to enjoy each other's presence; work had taken up both of your free time and he wanted to give you a nice dinner date to make up for the time spent away. However he didn’t plan for the flirty blonde waitress that attended to the two of you. In his defense he wasn’t reciprocating any of the flirting that the waitress was giving him. She wouldn’t acknowledge you and if she did she was so cold and looked at you with contempt, it genuinely bothered him. He tried on several attempts to get her to speak to you with a more favorable polite tone before he requested a different waitress. How did you see it so differently?
Simple.
He asked for a new waitress because he was too overwhelmed with his desire for her, him grabbing your hand across the table when she came over three times? He needed you to ground him so he wouldn’t take her right then and there.
“Y/n, baby, please,” He cupped your face gently, the familiar sight of tears glimmering under your porch light, “baby no,” He pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back. “This…you, why do you think I want someone else? Why do you doubt my loyalty to you?” You softly cried into his chest pulling away gripping his suit jacket.
“How could you love someone like me, Yoongi?” He swipes at your tears with his thumbs, but they kept coming, staining the top of your dress. “What is there to love about me? When I’m so…so-“
“So what? Hm?” His brows furrowed, his features twisted as if he was angered, not with you but your thoughts and your contempt for yourself. “You are perfect to me,” He pulled you in closer brushing a stray curl from your forehead, the touch tender making your eyes flutter, “You are everything I want and more, I would never look for anyone else my eyes have never wondered from you. You are my home, my safe space, you are the love of my life, and it pains me that you question that,” he blinked twice shoving down his emotions, but you saw it, the hurt.
Yoongi never said it before, but you needed to know. It pained him when you questioned his love and loyalty for you. He desperately wanted you to trust him to believe him when he speaks his love for you. But somehow you two always end up like this.
Your brows creased cupping his cheek. “Yoongi—“
He grabbed your hands stroking the back of your palms. “Promise me this; from this day moving on, you won’t doubt my love for you anymore, you won’t compare me to him—“ Your lips part denial heavy on your tongue, “I know you do it, Y/n. I don’t… I don’t judge you for it, but I am not him. I am not like him, I love you, I care for you and you only, okay? Promise me.” He gently squeezed your hands, his words freezing in front of you.
“I…I love you too, Yoongi.” You looked down stammering, “I-it’s so hard for me, I-I have all these thoughts…I can’t.” You shake your head, more tears flowing, “I can’t, I believe you, but I can’t promise you that I won’t question you, I’m sorry.” Yoongi pulled you back into his arms stroking your hair, muffled “I’m sorrys” and sobs exhaled into his chest filling the night's silence.
“I don’t blame you baby, that-that bastard,” Yoongi exhaled harshly trying to control himself. He didn’t like talking about him. He hates seeing the damage he did to you and how it holds power over your thoughts about yourself and the love Yoongi has for you, but it’s something that’s affected your relationship for years. “It’s his fault, but I swear to you, I will never do anything that that piece of shit did, okay? So promise me you’ll try, try to believe me and see the best in me, look at our situations objectively, believe me when I tell you I love you and only want you because I do.”
“Why do you fight for me so hard? Why?” Yoongi exhaled a soft chuckle.
“Because I love you, Y/n.” You stepped back no more than an inch to meet his eyes, they reflected your own; glossy and full of unshed tears. You searched his face for any deceit, for any traces of him, but found nothing but a man who’s loved and cherished you, the man that’s fought for you all these years even when you didn’t want him too.
Min Yoongi, your patient, caring, loving, boyfriend.
A man worthy of a promise.
You gave him a soft nod, wiping away a stray tear that fell from his eyes, “I promise.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Disclaimer: I made and edited the gif I used for my header. That’s why I’ve posted this under the tag #btsgif. The footage belongs to BTS and BigHit, it’s obvs from one of Yoongi’s live streams. I also pulled the pic below from that footage. Feel free to use however you like, just please give me credit for the edit. Thanks 💜
I got this request on my Twitter account from @TheGirlInTheFloppyHat⁷ who said, “Soft stans please don't attack me, but a good looking guy, in a beret, casually rolling up his sleeves and painting away is hot as hell!!! HOT AS HELL!! 🔥 🔥 🔥 (Also, Yoongi the Renaissance Painter... Someone please take up the FanFic idea! 🤭🙈)”
Obviously, this is me volunteering to take up the idea because I agree, it is HOT. AS. HELL. 😂 I replied and told them I’d tag them once it was finished. Hope you like! Enjoy! 💜
Age Recommendation: 18+
Warnings: SMUT! Oral (f. receiving) as in face-sitting, smutty sex, Yoongi being a whole-ass Renaissance snacc, paint
Word Count: 1,546
Summary: You and Yoongi live in a modest home somewhere in Renaissance Italy, with him trying to earn a living through art. Unfortunately, you keep distracting him even though that’s nowhere near your intentions.
I sat in the corner of the room, subtly risking a glance at him from the pages of my book. Yoongi was currently swirling his paint brush in the tin filled with the darker blue, lost in thought. “Are you quite alright?” I asked, prompting him to flick his gaze my way.
“I am, thank you,” he murmured, fingers tugging at his beret. I let him carry on, admiring the way his trousers hugged his legs as he moved between the canvas and paint. When he shoved his tunic sleeves up his arms, showing off the creamy skin of those hands I loved pressing my lips to, I swallowed hard.
“I can feel you staring,” his deep bass grumbled.
I whipped my gaze back to my book. “Sorry.”
I listened to the scratching sound of the brush spreading color over the canvas, reveling in the way Yoongi inhaled as he smeared blue onto white, and the way he exhaled as he pulled the brush away. Risking another peek at him, I watched as he straightened, dipping the brush in the paint once more, before bending down the work on the bottom half of what would be his latest masterpiece. Yoongi repeated this action multiple times, silently working as I looked on. His hands were what my eyes were drawn to most, however, his veins popping as his grip on the brush tightened and loosened. I had to press my fingers to my mouth to stop from gasping at the sight.
Normally, he didn’t let me watch him work. Yoongi preferred for me to see the finished product, but as we’d had such little time together since his art started becoming popular, he relented and let me sit in on this painting’s creation. The only other time I’ve been allowed in the same room with him while he’s working is when I’m the one sitting for the portrait, and even then, I never got to see his process until now.
Yoongi finally sighed and set the brush down, his pale arms and smock now splattered with small droplets of blue paint. “You haven’t turned a page for nearly an hour,” he mused, looking at me with hooded eyes.
I opened my mouth to apologize once more, but he crossed the room and smothered my words with his soft mouth. “Never mind,” he murmured against my lips. “I was distracted, anyway. Your mere presence is a hindrance.”
“I can leave,” I muttered, attempting to turn away.
“No,” he growled, the sound low in his throat. “I want you to stay. Need you to stay.”
My eyes grew wide as he pulled me upright, his dark eyes boring into mine as he slid his hands around my waist. “Don’t be scared, my love.”
I shook my head. “I’m not scared,” I said breathlessly. Truthfully, I wasn’t. I was entranced… had been for the entire time I watched him work.
Yoongi reached around me and began loosening the ties of my dress, pressing his lips to the skin of my neck as he worked the strings loose. I sighed into his touch, trembling as he peeled the layer from my body, letting the fabric pool around my feet. He groaned at the sight of me just in my linen kirtle and corset. “Turn,” he ordered, and I spun. His nimble fingers worked at the knots keeping my corset together, skillfully undoing them the way he’d done so many times before. Yet I still shivered every time I felt his fingers touch my bare skin, trailing over my neck and shoulder as his other hand loosened the corset strings to the point where he was able to lift the piece of clothing over my head and toss it in the corner.
I spun around, becoming painfully aware of the fact that he was still fully dressed. I tugged at the hem of his tunic and he smirked as he pulled it off. “Impatient tonight, are we?”
Biting my lip in response, I fumbled with the ties at his trousers and yanked them down to his ankles, kissing down his torso as I did so. Yoongi groaned loudly as my tongue flicked out, tasting the skin of his creamy pale thighs. I lingered there, pressing the flat of my tongue against his skin, licking my way upwards. “Enough,” he grunted.
Smirking, I refused to listen, doing the same to his other thigh. He growled and grasped my hands, yanking me upright. “I said enough teasing.” I shivered, his husky voice going straight to my already dampening core. Yoongi reached down and grasped the hem of my kirtle, pulling it over my head in one swift move, making me gasp as the cool air hit my naked form. My nipples instantly hardened, and Yoongi sat back, devouring me with his eyes.
“You know, no matter how much I paint, you are still the most beautiful work of art I’ve ever seen.”
I felt a blush creep its way up my cheeks, and reached up to cover my face with my hands. Yoongi grabbed my wrists, pulling me so close I could feel his breath over my face. “None of that,” he murmured.
Yoongi led me to the bed in the corner and lay me down, nudging my thighs apart with a knee before he lay between my legs, his hard, throbbing length pressing against my folds. He rocked back and forth, the tip rubbing deliciously against my clit, and I cried out from the intense pleasure that shot through me.
He silenced me with a deep, passionate kiss, shoving his tongue into my cavern. I wrapped my lips around the muscle, sucking slightly, knowing it would drive him crazy. He let out an appreciative grunt and thrust his hips into mine, forcing a gasp from me.
He lifted his hips, the sudden loss of pressure making me whine, but he pressed a finger against my lips, shushing me. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Yoongi said, deftly flipping us over so I straddled him. He grasped my thighs and guided me to the point where my core sat right above his perfect, pink mouth. Lifting his head, he licked a strip from the bottom of my folds to my clit, eliciting a loud moan from me. I began panting as he continued his handiwork, skillfully tonguing at me from every delicious angle, finally shoving the muscle as deep as he could go, making me cry out. He went between that and sucking fervently at my clit, and I felt my thighs begin to tremble as he worked me to my breaking point. “Yoongi,” I gasped. “I’m gonna… I mean, I’m going to-”
He groaned at my words, the vibration going straight into my core and pushing me over the edge. I cried out, my moans whiny and loud, as I released onto his tongue, panting his name as I came down from my high. “Yoongi… Yoongi…”
Only letting me have a second to breath, Yoongi speedily flipped us over once more, lying between my legs and pressing his hard, thick length into me before I had time to figure out what was happening. I felt my muscles stretching to accommodate him, relishing in the way my walls clenched around him and made him squinch his eyes shut as he bottomed out. “Ready?” he asked, letting his facial features relax into a smile.
I nodded. Yoongi wasted no more time, thrusting in and out of me at an insanely fast pace, using one hand to hold my hips still and the other to tightly grip the round flesh of my ass. I knew there’d be bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow, but at this moment, I didn’t care if I wouldn’t be able to walk. All I knew is I wanted him, I wanted him from the second he picked up his brush, and finally our bodies were melding together as one.
“Harder,” I hissed, scraping my nails down his back.
He obliged, speeding up to a pounding pace. I could hardly breath or feel anything but him inside me, thrusting in and out, the sudden, intense pressure of him inside me coupled with that same pressure abruptly releasing giving me nothing but raw, acute pleasure. I felt the muscles around my core and the bottom of my spine tightening, preparing for a second release. Yoongi’s grunts were coming out loud and frequent, letting me know he too was close. “C’mon sweetheart, let me feel you,” he moaned, and that was all it took to send me over the edge once more, my muscles completely contracting around him as they shook, clenching and unclenching.
He kept going, pushing me through my high, sweat making the tips of his soft, dark hair damp. Finally, Yoongi let out a low, deep grunt and pushed deep into me. I could feel him twitching, releasing everything he had deep inside me. He collapsed on top of me, both of us trying hard to catch our breath as we came down.
After a moment, he pulled out of me and rolled over onto his side. Yoongi smirked as he panted, his face still shiny with perspiration. “Maybe I should let you watch me paint more often.”
I hear a knock on the studio door and wipe my eyes, throwing the hood of my hoodie over my hat. I put on a smile and open the door but it drops fairly quickly. “Look if you are here to make fun of me, you can just go back to your studio.” I reply weakly (to my own dismay), starting to close the door, keeping my expression as strong as I can, but it is harder than I though at this point. All I want to do is break down and cry and sleep for days on end.- Strawberry anon
Yoongi watched as his once true enemy fought back against the years that threatened to fall from her eyes. He wanted to be the one to laugh in her face and say that he was the winner of the whole battle of producing, yet he didn't dare to hurt her feelings. Not for a very long time that is. At first, he never seemed to care about her well being and her emotions, but he truly realized is that she kept those emotions inside of her, which it could possibly lead to depression! Yoongi knew bottling up emotions was never a good idea, you would have to spill it out to someone or yell it from the rooftops even. Yet, he wanted to hear what she has to say.
As he noticed that she was shutting the door, Yoongi put his own foot in between the door and pushed the door open, not wanting her to shut herself out of the world, he wanted her to feel at least better again, or at least smile. Yoongi shut the door behind him, crossed his arms, and stood right in front of her, as if wanting her to obey and answer his question immediately, and as soon as possible. "Tell me what's the matter." Yoongi said in a calming manner, not wanting her to be scared or mad at him for anything he had done.
