#sunkoos

Nothing but a gasp has time to pass through your lips before he’s pressed against them, nipping and licking until he gains the entrance he seeks. He kisses you hard, deep, tongue swirling like it won’t be satisfied until it knows every inch of your mouth. Hips rolling, you reach to pull him down, closer, always closer - until he’s lain atop of you, knees wedged between your own. 

Trailing from your pout, he sucks at your throat, biting the spot he knows makes you weak until it blooms in violet. “The kid still taking good care of you?” he rasps, lips forming the words against tender skin. 

The kid. It takes your brain a moment to work through the thickened lust and comprehend the words, the puzzle piece finally clicking in place. Ah, he means his colleague, Jungkook. The one he assigned to watch over you in his absence, to guard and protect,  to make sure you wanted for nothing. 

You were fond of Jungkook, that was certain. His big brown eyes were wide and always dancing with mischief, and between that and his charming smile, he was hard to resist. Friendship occurred naturally, and you found yourself seeking him out more and more as time went on. Tasks you previously enjoyed alone, you now did with Jungkook at your side - his humor and wit the perfect addition to the metonity of the daily grind. The truth was that in Yoongi’s absence, Jungkook was a welcomed familiar face, and you felt yourself growing close to him in a way you hadn’t expected. 

Smiling, your fingers find the soft dark strands at his nape. “Yes, he is still taking good care of me, just like you asked.” 

“Good.”

“Sometimes I wish he’d take better care of me, if you know what I mean, but I guess it’ll do-”

A sharp sting at your neck had you yelping once more, a laugh already at the tip of your tongue. Instead of rage or jealousy, mirth glows in Yoongi’s lust blown gaze. “If that’s what you want, I’m sure it could be arranged. The kid certainly wouldn’t complain.”

Eyes widening, you glare at the man above you, mouth agape. You’re stuttering through a response when he interrupts, pulling away from your throat to peer down at you. “But we both know that’s not what you really want, is it?”

The smile on his face is maddening, wide and genuine, all gums and hidden secrets. Fire lights low in your belly, and you have the sudden urge to prove yourself to the powerful man above you. 

It only takes a well placed leg around his hips and a strong tug of your wrist to change your positions, legs now straddling his lap as you earn the higher ground. A small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you have only achieved this because he allowed you to, but you shove it away. 

“Oh yeah? And what is it that I really want?”

A warm palm slides up your legs to the back of your thighs, toying dangerously at the apex, just under the hem of your large sleep shirt. Breath catching, you close your eyes to the touch, drunk on lithe fingers and a tell tale hardness pressed to the inside of your thigh. 

He watches you then; the way you slow blink until your eyes roll back, the purse of your pout as you sigh out a whisper of his name, brow creasing slightly when he raises his hips to press against your tender heat. Every single inch of you was art, beautiful poetry, and it was easy for Yoongi to get lost in his thoughts as he let you settle over him like a new skin. 

It’s as he ghosts one long digit over the wetness clinging to your core that he speaks again. “You want me to touch you, right here,” his thumb swipes against your clit, punctuating his words as you mewl. “You want me to touch you here with my hands and my mouth until you come, until you’re ready to take my cock.” 

Whining, you drop your head to his shoulder, allowing your focus to fall to the smooth glide of your pelvis against his own. You’re too worked up to answer, instead dragging your lips in a mirror image of the bruises he had left on your throat, hoping he would heal slow enough to let the love bites take root. 

“Hmm, is that what you want, love? Want me to ruin you, fuck you so good you can’t even think about another man, can’t imagine them touching you?” 

It was with his final word that he spun you again, moving so quickly you barely had time to register the switch until you were pressed faced down in the mattress, hips pulled to rest with your ass in the air. 

He leans over you, the hardness pressed against your ass now free of any fabric - when did he take those off? - naked and warm and demanding attention. His body covers yours, lips ghosting at the shell of your ear. “I’ll give you what you want. I’ll make sure everyone knows who you belong to, who you will rule beside.” 

Biting your lip to suppress your moan, you rock back against him, seeking the friction your body so desperately required, fully intoxicated on your want, your need for him. It was like you had been made perfectly for him, a simple word or hint of a gesture enough to have you dripping and ready for more.

Always so perfect for him.

Ripping away your panties, his fingers glide over your silk core, dipping in just enough to hear you gasp. You didn’t want to play games, didn’t want to drag this out - just wanted him, all of him inside of you. 

“Yoongi, please, I’m ready-” a swipe against your engorged bundle of nerves causes you to keen, head lolling forward. “I need you inside me, please, please-”

With a groan, he pulls his hips back, sliding inside of you with the ease of being welcomed home. His fingers remained at your apex, swirling and pinching in time with his slow thrusts, the suddenness of being so full causing your knees to shake.

His remaining free hand travels up and down your spine, pausing for brief moments to hold you in place for his assault against your body, before returning up to your throat to wrap around with a gentle squeeze. He was everywhere, lips and teeth and hands, surrounding and suffocating you with the sweetest poison, the greatest addiction. You couldn’t get enough, being filled with him and yet wanting more, always wanting more.

Yoongi’s moans were softer, lower, but the sound still caused goosebumps to raise on your arms, his pleasured grunts and praise enough to send you over the edge without a single touch from him. Part of you wonders if that’s just some of his appeal, a piece of his power over you, but you know regardless of his status, you would have fallen for Yoongi long ago. 

Picking up the pace, he slams his pelvis into you repeatedly, furiously pistoning in and out of you while never losing rhythm. A skilled and attentive lover, always making sure you were a breath away from crumbling for him, curses and his name always ready on the tip of your tongue. 

“Tell me, love. What are you thinking about, hmm?” 

His voice is black velvet, and you clench at the words, turning your head so you could pant out a response. He never slows, fingers still rubbing mewls out of you, cock lodged deep within your aching cunt. 

“I’m thinking about you, Yoongi. How ah- amazing you are. How much I love you.” 

As if that was the phrase he was waiting to hear, he hisses, a mumble of your name echoing in the room. Through closed eyes, you feel the room darkening, a sudden shadow casting over your form, and a grin pulls at your lips.

His wings.

You always loved when he showed them, let them unfurl and expand until there was no mistaking what he was, who he was. They were bigger than you had expected, feathers a deep inky black that reflected blue and purple in the right light, like a beautiful oil spill. He tended to keep them hidden, his power abundant enough that it could be done without more than a mere thought, but when he let them show, when he let down the invisible wall - it meant he was comfortable. He was at ease. He felt he could be himself, with you. 

The thought made your heart swell. 

Craning your neck, he was a vision behind you - chest naked and glistening, twilight strands of his hair in disarray and matted against his forehead, lips kiss bitten and swollen. His eyes however weren’t closed, instead sharp gaze was focused on your face, your body, as his wings open and expand to their full glory. He was every embodiment of otherworldly, truly an angel, your angel, your fallen prince.

His hips falter when his eyes land on yours, when he sees how intently you stare at him. Adoration floods his veins, his desire to give you the world to rule as you see fit only second to the overwhelming need to protect you, love you. 

“I love you too, baby.” he husks, tongue darting out to lick his lips. His fingers that had been pressed to your fevered heat seemed to double in speed, your eyes snapping closed against the pleasure. “Come for me, love. I need you to come for me.”

You were so close, the precipice within your reach, his utterances only hurtling you towards the end. It was when he leaned over your body once more, lips suckling at the soft space where your neck and shoulder met, his wings cocooning your tangled forms that you finally felt the band in your belly snap, orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. You could feel how hard you were clenching him, the way your thighs began to shake under his punishing movement, and you let out a final cry of his name.

“Yoongi-!”

The high pitched hum had him spilling inside of you,  slowing to pump you full of him with staccato thrusts and groans of his own. When he was sure you were entrenched in nothing but him and his scent, he collapsed, sticky body laying on top of your own, his wings slowly moving to wrap you fully. 

Moments like this were some of your favorites, silence with the exception of tandem pants and gasps for air, hearts thrumming fiercely in your chests as they struggle to return to normal. Yoongi was always tender, almost delicate in how he handled you, but in the minutes after showing you his love with his body he became exceptionally so. Cooing, he dotes over you, pressing soft open mouthed kisses on every available inch of skin as you catch your breath. 

“I’m sorry, you know.” His voice is a whisper, but his eyes are sharp, watching. “For always being gone, for leaving you here alone. I know Jungkook helps some, but it’s not the same as me just being here, and I wish-”

Leaning forward, you shush him with your lips against his. “It’s okay, Yoongi. I understand why you’re busy, why you’re gone. You’re the King of Hell. Your people, your fellow Fallen - they need you.” 

Raising a hand, you trace the delicate lines of his jaw, his lips. “I need you too, of course. But I can always wait until you're done,” He turns his face into your touch until you’re cupping his cheek, thumb smoothing his temple. “I’ll always wait for you.” 

Yoongi smiles then, one of his face changing, soul warming smiles, his wings raising to slowly fold against his back. He wants to tell you that he’d give it all up if you asked, walk away from any responsibility, any promise of power, if only you required him to never leave your bed. He wants to weep at your feet, tell you all the ways you changed his blackened heart, his damned soul. 

Instead, he rests his forehead against yours, a final promise spoken in the air between you.