Venus

You slowly crept from the bed, careful not to disturb him. Thankfully, you were still in your dress, saving you the trouble of getting ready, but the bare, chilly absence beneath your hem was a stark reminder of what was missing. Your panties. You scanned the floor, searching for a flash of white cotton, but your undergarments were nowhere to be found. Just then, a faint memory sparked; they were probably still out in the living room.

You tiptoed to the door, your hand hovering just over the handle. Before you could turn it, a deep, raspy morning voice cut through the silence behind you. “Usually, I’m the one sneaking out of a woman’s room.” You froze. Turning back, you found Yoongi still tangled in the sheets, his attention fixed entirely on you. A slow smirk played on his lips. “It’s an interesting change to see it done to me.”

You sighed, dropping your shoulders as you backed away from the door. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to wake you,” you said, awkwardly rubbing your arm. Yoongi sat up, his dark hair messy around his face. He carelessly brushed the strands back with his fingers, his eyes tracking your nervous movements. “Yeah, well,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “You’re not very good at it.”

“Sorry…” you muttered again. 

Yoongi stared at you in silence, his penetrating gaze reading your expression. “So, what? You planned on sneaking out and walking all the way through Gongdan to get home?” he asked, his voice deadpan but laced with genuine disbelief. “Why didn’t you just ask me for a ride?”

You shrugged, trying to sound a lot more casual than you felt. “I just thought I’d take a bus. I have work today... and plans after that. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Bullshit,” he said, a low scowl settling on his face. “I know you don’t work today, y/n.”

The realization hit you with a cold drop in your stomach—he knew your schedule. How could you have forgotten that? Thanks a lot Jin. Yoongi shifted, his dissecting eyes locking onto yours with complete austerity. “Be honest with me. You regret what we did last night?”

You pulled your bottom lip inward, scrambling for a response. If you were being honest with yourself, the sobriety didn't change a thing—you didn't regret it. You liked it. A lot, actually. You could still feel the phantom warmth of his touch humming under your skin, but reality quickly pushed its way back into the room. Nothing could ever come of this. “Can you just… stop now?” you whispered, looking anywhere but at him. Refusing to give him an answer, you clutched your arms tight around yourself.

“Stop what?” he pressed, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register.

“This,” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could hold them back. “You got everything you wanted. You wanted me to come to your party, I did. You wanted me to go to the fair, I did. You wanted to fuck me and take my virginity, you did. Now you can stop coming around. You can just let me live my life as it was and work on my relationship with Jungkook.”

A fierce glare twisted Yoongi's features, his expression darkening into something unrecognizable. He poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, staring you down with terrifying coldness.

“You think pussy is all I wanted from you?” 

The raw bluntness of the question sliced straight through your armor. You weren’t stupid. Sana had been there before you, and she’d made it perfectly clear; Yoongi didn’t do feelings. He took what he wanted and left the wreckage behind. You had absolutely no intention of ruining things with Jungkook for a single, chaotic night with a man who could never belong to anyone. Shoving your feelings down deep, you braced yourself and looked him in the eyes. “It doesn't matter what I think because this can’t happen again. Please, just take me home, Yoongi.”

“I'm not taking you anywhere, y/n.”

“Fine. I'll walk then,” you retorted, turning on your heel. You reached blindly for the doorknob, but before your fingers could even curl around the metal, Yoongi was out of bed.

He caught you in a heartbeat, the solid weight of his body slamming your back hard against the wood of the door. Before you could even gasp, his hands came up to cup either side of your face, his lips smashing against yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. You fought against him, your palms flat against the front of his white shirt as you tried to shove him back, but he didn't give you an inch. He held you pinned, taking everything you tried to withhold. Gradually, the desperate fight drained from your limbs. Your resistance shattered, and you melted against him, unable to fight the intoxicating pull of his mouth any longer.

Yoongi pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss just enough to catch his breath. He kept his forehead pressed firmly against yours, his thumbs still tracing your cheekbones. Both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you thick.

“I told you before,” he rasped, his voice dropping to a low, intense tone that vibrated straight through you. “I don’t just want you sexually. I want all of you.”

You stared into his dark eyes, searching them as if you could read the secrets he kept so tightly guarded. You needed a crack in his armor, anything to prove this was all a lie. 

“Why me, Yoongi?” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. “There are other women out there. Endless options. So why me?”

Yoongi didn't blink. His gaze locked onto yours, unyielding and heavier than before. “Because you're not like other women.”

You didn’t believe that for a single second. You were exactly like other women—at least the ones Yoongi probably dealt with. You definitely weren’t the first girl he’d met who had folded in his presence, and you certainly weren't the first to cheat on a significant other with him. You had always prided yourself on never being that kind of person. You were supposed to be the loyal one, the safe choice. But now? The truth tasted bitter in your mouth. 

You were a cheater.

“I'm with Jungkook,” you reminded him, the words flying out like a shield you were desperately trying to hold up. But you knew he didn't need the reminder.

Yoongi simply didn't care.

“I thought you told me he wasn't your boyfriend yet,” he rumbled, his breath brushing warm against your lips.

“Official or not, the point still stands.”

“Does it?” he questioned.

His hands slid away from your face, leaving a trail of heat as they moved downward, roaming slowly up your waist. You caught your breath as his fingers snagged the material of your dress, intentionally lifting it in the process, his touch burning right through the barrier. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your jaw as he spoke, the bluntness of his words hitting like a physical touch. “Do you still feel me inside of you? My fingers, my cock, my cum?”

A hot shiver raced down your spine. Your thighs shook under the slide of his hands, your legs trembling so badly they felt like they could no longer support your weight. He was wholly undoing you. “You know what you're gonna do?” Yoongi kept going, his voice a low, toxic purr designed to shatter whatever pride you had left.

“You're gonna go home to your little boyfriend, you're gonna sit and watch your little movies on the couch, and you're gonna think about how I fucked you on top of mine. How I had you saying my name.”

He pressed himself harder into you, your back grinding against the door as he forced you to feel the solid, thick length of his erection pressing right against your thighs. “Y-Yoongi... I can't…” you whimpered, your head tossing back against the wood, your mind spinning into a total frenzy.

“And when you do think about me,” he whispered, lips now brushing yours, utterly unwavering, “you're gonna come right back, and I'm gonna fuck you again on my couch.”

You let out an involuntary moan, your hands clinging to his shirt for support as your knees threatened to buckle. The friction between you was suffocating, but you forced your eyes open to meet his. 

“What is it that you want from me, Yoongi?” you asked, the raw honesty of the question bleeding into the quiet room. You genuinely wanted to know if this was just some game to him. 

Yoongi went entirely still. The ruthless smirk faded from his lips, his expression turning intensely serious as his forehead pressed back against yours.

“I wanna give you everything this world has to offer.”

You curled up in your bed, your arms wrapped around your pillow as you compressed it against your chest. The pillowcase smelled faintly of your regular life, of laundry detergent and regimen, but everything felt wrong. Yoongi’s words were still ringing in your ears, a permanent echo that made it impossible to breathe normally. You were back where you were supposed to be, but you felt out of place. 

You wanted to call Mina, needing someone to vent to about last night, but you knew it wasn't a good idea. Sure, Mina had been pushing you to sleep with someone else since Jungkook was taking his sweet time, but she would rather hear a story about you losing your virginity to Jimin—maybe even Hoseok. Honestly, anyone but Yoongi. 

Part of you felt the same. Anyone but Yoongi. 

Biting your bottom lip, you reached across the nightstand for your phone. It unlocked instantly with Face ID, and you tapped open the phone app. Yoongi’s call sat directly at the top of your recent logs—just a raw, nameless phone number. You tapped it and scrolled straight to the block option.

You could be entirely rid of him right now. Truthfully, you had never actually tried to just ignore him and see what happened. You were always so quick to give in, so quick to say yes, trapped by the suffocating feeling that he would never take no for an answer anyway.

Just as you were about to tap the button and block him, the phone buzzed against your palm. You swiped open the notification, a single new message staring back at you from the nameless number—almost as if he knew exactly what you were planning to do.

“Think about what I said, sweetheart.”

You stared at the screen for five agonizing minutes, the text burning into your mind.

Everything this world has to offer…

He had said those exact words to you at the fair, too.

But you didn’t deserve everything this world had to offer. That was a privilege reserved for people who didn’t cheat. 

You scoffed, tossing your phone back onto the nightstand, not bothering to respond. Pulling the pillow up tightly against your face, you buried yourself in the fabric and let out a smothered screech.

You had never thought you’d be the girl caught between two men. You had never imagined there was a guy on earth who could actually cloud your judgment when it came to Jungkook.

Then Yoongi had come barreling into your life like a hurricane, relentlessly pressing until you simply couldn't fight him anymore, and you finally gave in. 

You pulled the pillow away from your face, clutching it back against your breastbone as you stared up at the blank, shadowed ceiling. Maybe things could go back to normal after tonight. You desperately needed to believe they could.

You closed your eyes and tried to conjure the memory of a typical night with Jungkook—the comforting smell of buttered popcorn, a movie playing softly in the background, and the two of you curled up in each other’s arms on the couch just like you always did. It was a routine built on quiet certainty. There were no chaotic parties, no choking clouds of marijuana smoke, and no burning alcohol to blur the lines between right and wrong. Just safety. Just him.

But the image felt fragile now, like a photograph left out in the rain. Every time you tried to picture Jungkook’s steady, reassuring smile, Yoongi’s voice would echo in your mind, sharp and demanding, shattering the peace. You were trying to cling to a version of yourself that didn’t exist anymore. How could you sit on that couch and look Jungkook in the eye, pretending your hands were clean, when the ghost of Yoongi’s touch still felt practically branded onto your skin? 

Your phone abruptly rang, shattering the quiet and snapping you back to reality. You grabbed it from the nightstand, your eyes darting to the contact name lighting up the screen.

‘Kookie Cake 🍪🍰’

Jungkook was calling. Hopefully, he was ringing to tell you he was finally on his way over to your place. Right now, you wanted nothing more than to drop the pillow and wrap your arms around him, holding him close enough to make the rest of the world vanish.

You swiped the screen, your thumb trembling slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Hey,” you murmured, trying to force your voice to sound steady—to sound like the girl he had talked to yesterday. The girl who hadn't broken his trust. “Are you on your way?” 

“Hey, beautiful,” Jungkook’s voice came through the speaker, warm and instantly grounding. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry about this, honey, but... I gotta rain check on tonight.” 

The words hit you like a physical blow. “Rain check?” Your voice trailed off, disappointment pooling in your chest

“Yeah, a client came into the shop late wanting a major cover-up on his back. It's already past 9:00 PM, and there's no way I’m finishing in time for our movie night,” he sighed, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I know we had plans, but it’s a massive piece and the guy drove all the way from Seoul. I’d feel like shit turning him away. I'm really sorry, angel. Can I make it up to you tomorrow?”

“Jungkook…” you said softly, a trace of desperation slipping out before you could stop it. You squeezed the pillow tighter against your frame, an oppressive weight settling onto your sternum. “I was really looking forward to seeing you tonight.  Can't someone else take over?”

On the other end, you heard the faint, distinct clink of his teeth against his lip piercing—a nervous tick. He wanted to see you just as badly, but the harsh reality was that business came first. As much as he loved you, he couldn't just walk out.

“Angel, every other artist is booked solid tonight,” he said gently. “I can’t just hand a client off to go on a movie date. I’m sorry, y/n.”

You wanted to beg him. You wanted to scream at him to drop the damn tattoo gun and drive over. You needed him here. You needed him to wipe away the lingering trace of Yoongi’s scent—that crisp, mocking citrus that still seemed to cling to your skin. You needed Jungkook's familiar, gentle presence to drown out the memory of last night, to blur the reality of how much you had actually enjoyed Yoongi fucking you into his couch. 

Then, the desperation curdled into hot, defensive anger. Anger that Jungkook still treated this relationship like a secondary priority. Anger that he had ghosted you for two days after your fight instead of handling it. Anger at him for practically pushing you into another man’s arms.

“God, stop saying sorry! I’m so tired of hearing it,” you snapped, the fury bursting out of you. “I’m starting to feel like I don’t even matter to you!”

Silence stretched over the line. Jungkook was completely caught off guard by the sudden vitriol. “Woah, woah, where is this coming from?” he asked, his voice dropping into that calm, measured tone he always used to keep from raising his voice at you. “I just told you exactly how I felt about you a couple days ago.”

“Yeah, after you ghosted me for two days!” you shot back, the frustration bubbling over as you stood up from the bed, pacing the small confines of your room. “You disappeared, left me spinning, and the second you decide to come back, a walk-in from Seoul is suddenly more important than spending time with me.”

Jungkook let out a heavy, stressed exhale on the other end. “I didn't disappear to hurt you, angel. We both needed space to cool down after that fight. And this isn't about choosing a client over you. This is my job. I wasn't upset when you chose to hang out with Mina last night instead of me, was I?”

The mention of Mina made your chest tighten, a cold spike of panic cutting through your anger. He had no idea that the "girls' night" had actually been a cover story to hang out with Yoongi. The weight of the lie made you push back even harder, desperately trying to hide your guilt behind a wall of rage. “That’s completely different, Jungkook! What I had planned with Mina was already set in motion. It wasn’t something I just sprung on you and cancelled last minute. I’m sick of feeling like I come last to everything in your life!” 

“That's bullshit and you know it, y/n!” Jungkook’s voice finally dropped into a harsh, defensive register, his usual calm cracking under the exhaustion of the day and the weight of your accusations. Having known you since high school, he usually knew exactly how to handle your moods, but right now, he was pushed past his limit. “I'm trying to build a career, make something of myself. I’m sorry that I actually have real goals, and I’m not working at some fucking minimum wage ramen shop!”

The line went completely dead inside your head, the words hanging heavily in the space between you.

As soon as the sentence left his mouth, you could hear Jungkook take a sharp, panicked breath through the speaker, the harsh reality of what he'd just said hitting him instantly. "Angel, wait, I didn't mean it like that–"

But the damage was done. Reminding you of the dead-end shifts at Makoto was a low blow, especially coming from the one person who had walked through every up and down with you since you were teenagers. It was at that moment you realized that Jungkook looked down on you for where you were in your life.

"Don't worry about it," you choked out, the anger instantly draining from your body, replaced by a hollow, sickening defeat. "Finish your work." Without waiting for the desperate plea already forming on the other end of the line, you ended the call.

You stopped pacing and sat at the edge of your mattress, brooding over his words. For a protracted stretch, you simply stared at the wall, your mind completely blank except for the sharp sting of his insult. The exhaustion of your actual reality—the long, thankless hours at Makoto—didn't even compare to the absolute exhaustion of knowing the person closest to you saw you as a failure.

Your phone buzzed in your hand; looking down, you saw Jungkook's name flashing. You declined it without a second thought. Tossing the device face down onto the mattress beside you, you found yourself unable to bear the sight of his name or the desperate, flashing light of a follow up text.

It buzzed again—a short, aggressive thud against the mattress that made your shoulders tense. Then another. And another. He was panicking, scrambling to build a bridge over the massive chasm he'd just violently ripped between the two of you. Unable to take the vibrations anymore, you grabbed your phone and completely muted any further calls or texts from the brunet.

You tossed it back onto the mattress, further away this time, as if the physical distance could help quiet the echo of his voice still ringing in your ears.

You needed a distraction. You needed to hear a voice that didn't hold a hidden layer of condescension, someone who could anchor you back to reality before your own thoughts completely swallowed you whole. You reached out, grabbed your lifeless phone, and bypassed the wall of muted notifications from Jungkook without letting your eyes linger on them. Instead, you tapped on Mina’s name.

The line rang three times before it clicked open, the background noise instantly flooding your ear with a sharp contrast to your dark room—a hairdryer humming loudly, followed by the frantic clatter of what you could only assume were makeup bottles. 

“Hey, stranger,” she said, her tone bright and airy. “I was just thinking about you; it feels like we haven’t talked in forever. What’s up?”

“Not much,” you replied softly, fingers tightening around the edge of your phone. The sudden, desperate urge to have her sitting next to you—to clear the heavy fog in your apartment—pushed you past your usual reluctance to gossip. “I was actually… wondering if you were free tonight? To hang out? Maybe just talk?”

A pause hung over the line, followed by the soft, apologetic drop in her voice that told you the answer before she even spoke.

“Ugh, y/n, I’m so sorry,” she groaned, sounding genuinely crushed. “I can’t tonight. Jin is taking me out to dinner,” You could hear the smile in her voice.

Jin.

You hadn’t spoken to that little weasel since the night you caught him in Yoongi’s warehouse and realized he was the reason Yoongi knew so much about you.

“Oh, by the way, he mentioned that you two talked.”

You froze, your heart hammering against your ribs. “D-did he? Um, about what?”

God, had he told her about Yoongi? He couldn’t have—that would mean exposing his own drug problem and his ties to the raven. Unless he’d kept that out of the equation.

“He said you gave him a long talk about how he’s been acting lately. Said you told him he would lose me if he didn’t get his shit together.”

You exhaled, relief washing over you. Of course. He wasn’t that stupid.

“Y-yeah, I did,” you said. It wasn’t a total lie; you had told Jin he was on the verge of losing her.

“Well, I thank you, bestie. He’s been doing so much better lately. He’s even taking me to Atrium. You know I’ve wanted to go there for months now.” 

She wasn't lying. Mina used to talk about Atrium almost daily. It was a fancy, sit-down restaurant in Daegu—the kind of expensive where you paid for the atmosphere as much as the food. It was well beyond what Jin could afford on a realtor's salary, but you knew the dark truth behind his sudden influx of cash. It sickened you to sit on his deception, to keep Mina completely in the dark, but you forced the bitter taste down. As long as she was happy and safe right now, you would keep your mouth shut.

“You know I’ve always got your back.” You frowned at your own words, the lie sitting heavy on your tongue. “Well, have fun tonight. Eat something good for me.”

“I’m gonna make him buy me the whole damn menu to make up to me,” she laughed.

You forced out a hollow chuckle in return, desperate to keep your own misery from bleeding into her perfect night out.

“Okay, love you! Call you tomorrow!”

“Love you too. Bye.”

The call ended with a soft click, and the heavy, suffocating silence of your apartment instantly rushed right back in. You dropped the phone onto your lap and rubbed your hands vigorously over your face. You needed noise. You needed distraction. You absolutely did not need to think about stupid Jungkook tonight. You could just watch a movie and drown out the quiet on your own.

Shuffling out of the bedroom, you made your way into the dark living room and plopped onto the couch. You grabbed the remote from the armrest and flicked on the TV. The screen flared to life, casting a harsh, blue glow across the room as the local news materialized. You raised your hand to change the channel, but your thumb froze over the button as the screen flashed a crimson banner; BREAKING NEWS.

The anchor stared directly into the camera, his expression grim. “We begin tonight with breaking news out of Daegu,” he announced. “Details are still flooding into our newsroom regarding a shocking discovery made just hours ago. Let’s go straight to our reporter on the scene.”

The screen split, cutting to a reporter standing near the edge of Suseongmot Lake. The usual serene night view of the park was completely swallowed by the blinding glare of industrial floodlights and the chaotic pulsing of police strobes. Thick strands of yellow crime scene tape stretched across the boardwalk behind her, whipping softly in the night air.

“We are coming to you live from the Suseong District, where a massive police investigation is currently active late into the night,” the reporter said, her voice taut. “What began as a normal evening here has taken a horrific turn.”

The camera panned slightly toward the dark water, where forensic teams in white hazmat suits crawled along the shoreline.

“According to police, a couple walking along the lakeside boardwalk tonight discovered a body floating near the edge of the water. Emergency crews rushed to the scene, but what they uncovered has deeply shocked investigators. Sources close to the department confirm that the victim's body was severely mutilated—missing the head, as well as both hands and feet, in what appears to be a deliberate attempt to prevent identification. Furthermore, medical examiners on the scene have noted that the body is not a fresh casualty; preliminary decomposition indicates the remains have been in the water since at least yesterday night, despite only being discovered late tonight.”

A violent chill shot straight down your spine. Your breath hitched as you pulled your legs up onto the cushion, hugging your knees tightly against your chest.

The reporter paused briefly, letting the graphic weight of the update sink into the late-night broadcast before continuing. “Because of the extreme condition of the remains, the Daegu Metropolitan Police Department is strictly withholding any details regarding the victim's gender or age. Detectives have already begun a massive sweep of the area, confiscating security footage from every surveillance camera around the park to track how the body was transported to the lake. Authorities are pleading with anyone who was near Suseongmot earlier tonight and noticed anything unusual to contact police immediately. We will remain on the scene as this investigation develops. Back to you in the studio.”

The moment the screen flipped back to the studio, you mashed the button on the remote, desperate to get away from the news. The grim anchor vanished, replaced by the bright, upbeat music of a cooking channel. A chef began cheerfully explaining the steps to a pastry recipe, the bright audio a surreal contrast to what you had just heard.

Even with the comforting background noise filling the room, the warmth didn't reach you. You looked around your darkened apartment, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as an unsettling sensation crept in—the distinct, irrational feeling of eyes watching you from the shadows.

‘How disturbing…’ you thought, pulling your knees a little closer to your chest. 

The cheerful chatter of the cooking show felt entirely useless against the cold dread pooling in your stomach. You didn't want to be alone anymore. The thought of a brutal killer out there turned the familiar shadows of your apartment into a threat.

Your fingers trembled as you picked up your phone. You had explicitly promised yourself you wouldn't see Yoongi again, needing to put distance between yourself and the dangerous pull he had over you. But as you stared at the dark corners of your living room, the terror of the news broadcast overrode your shame. As much as you hated yourself for it, Yoongi was the only one who could make the world feel safe when things turned violent.

Crazy, right?

Swallowing the bitter taste of your own hypocrisy, you scrolled past Jungkook's name, found Yoongi's number, and tapped the screen before you could talk yourself out of it.

The line didn’t even manage to ring twice before the call connected. The speaker instantly filled with the low, steady purr of an engine and the faint, rhythmic click of a turn signal. Yoongi was in transit, likely surrounded by the heavy, silent presence of his guys, handling the kind of business you preferred to pretend didn't exist.

“Babygirl,” he spoke, the distinct smirk evident in his low voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you calling me on your movie date with your little boyfriend tonight?”

“I’m not on a movie date with him,” you admitted, the words tasting like defeat. “He canceled on me.”

“Oh yeah?” Through the speaker, his voice dropped an octave, the smirk fading into a low, rumbling hum of genuine curiosity. “How come?”

“Work shit. I really don’t care to talk about it right now.”

“So don’t,” Yoongi murmured, the easy authority in his voice instantly clearing the space for whatever you needed to say. “Talk to me, what’s up?”

You took a shaky breath, your eyes darting back to the flickering light of the cooking channel as if to reassure yourself the news anchor was actually gone. “I… I just turned on the TV,” you stammered, pulling your knees tighter against your chest. “There was a breaking news report. Suseongmot Lake. They found a body. The reporter said it was… it was mutilated. Cut up so horribly no one could identify it. They said it's been sitting out there since yesterday night.”

A heavy, absolute silence fell over Yoongi's side of the line, masked perfectly by the steady hum of his car. “Is that right?” He didn’t even sound phased by the grimness of the report. 

"Yeah..." you breathed out, the word catching in your throat as a shuddering breath escaped your lips. “I’m a little… spooked by it. I-I… was wondering if you could come over? Keep me company? Maybe we could watch a movie together instead?”

“Movie nights aren’t my thing, princess,” he countered smoothly, the absolute certainty in his voice cutting through the car's steady road noise.

“According to you, neither is playing games at the Daegu fair, but we did that together,” you reminded him, throwing his own rules back at him to mask your anxiety.

The raven was quiet for a brief moment, the faint click of his turn signal filling the silence before he let out a low sigh. “Fine, alright. Give me… an hour or so. I’ll be there, beautiful.”

You smiled slightly, the heavy dread in your chest lifting just enough for you to breathe. “You got an hour.”

You poured the last of the popcorn into a large glass bowl, tossing a piece into your mouth with a slight smile. Just then, a firm knock sounded at the door behind you. Dumping the empty bag into the trash, you walked over, not even bothering to look through the peephole—you already knew exactly who was on the other side.

When you pulled the door open, Yoongi was standing in the entryway, casually holding a fresh pizza box. Your eyes flicked from the box up to his face, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Is this what you needed an hour for?” you asked.

Yoongi let out a low, amused huff, stepping past you into the warmth of the apartment without waiting for an invitation. The rich, savory scent of garlic and hot cheese immediately filled the entryway, effortlessly overpowering the artificial butter scent of your popcorn. “What’s a movie night without a pizza?” he murmured, his deep voice carrying that familiar, heavy vibration that always seemed to ground you. He set the pizza box down on the counter with a soft thud, right next to your glass bowl.

He turned around, leaning back against the counter and shoving his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. His dark eyes locked onto yours, sharp and calculating as they slowly traced the lines of your face, looking for any lingering traces of the fear that had you trembling on the phone an hour ago.

“So,” he said, the slight tilt of his head matching the lazy, confident pull of his lips. “What movie is on the itinerary?”

“Well…” you started, closing your door and throwing the deadbolt. “I wanted to watch something familiar like Mean Girls, but I figured that wasn’t really your style and you'd just end up falling asleep.”

“You’d be correct,” he cut in smoothly, his tone dry.

“I know. So I looked up some movies I thought you’d actually like, and The Wolf of Wall Street didn’t sound too bad from what I read in the description.” You searched his dark eyes, hunting for even a flicker of approval on the selection.

The raven's smirk widened, an amused light passing through his gaze. “That’s one of my favorite movies,” he said. “I’m glad you kept me in mind.”

“You said you’re not a movie night person, so I at least wanted to play something you’d enjoy,” you reasoned, though the small smile on your lips betrayed how glad you were that you'd gotten it right.

The raven pushed off the counter, slowly closing the distance between you. Before you could step back, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly into his space. “I feel special,” he murmured, his deep voice dropping to a low, intimate hum as he looked down at you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, gently pulling away from his grasp to break the intense proximity. “It’s nothing, just a movie and a good guess, I suppose,” you said softly, your hand instinctively rubbing your arm.

As you stepped back, the sharp, refreshing scent of his citrus cologne washed over you—the exact same smell that had lingered on your skin after your night together. The sensory memory sent a sudden, nervous flutter through your chest. “Let’s start it,” you added quickly, needing the distraction.

Yoongi watched you step away, his arms dropping lazily back to his sides, though his eyes never left your face. He didn't miss the subtle tension in your frame or the way your hand found your arm, but instead of pressing the issue, his smirk simply softened into something more relaxed. He knew exactly what his presence did to you, especially after last night.

“Alright,” he said, his deep voice carrying a trace of lingering amusement. “Let's start it.”

He grabbed the warm pizza box from the counter with one hand, effortlessly balancing it, while you picked up the large glass bowl of popcorn. Walking over to the couch, you grabbed the remote and settled onto your spot, the plush cushions offering a small sense of comfort against the lingering edge of your nerves.

Yoongi didn't hesitate to make himself at home. He shed his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of the headrest before sinking into the couch right next to you. The couch dipped under his weight, and immediately, that crisp citrus scent filled your space again, warm and entirely too close.

He propped his arm up on the back of the sofa, his fingers inches away from your shoulder as he looked toward the blank TV screen. "Well? Put it on, princess. Let's see if it's as good as I remember."

You picked up the remote, your thumb hovering over the play button. The Netflix interface was already up, the movie paused and waiting for you to hit select. With a quick click, the opening credits of The Wolf of Wall Street began to roll, the lively soundtrack filling the quiet apartment and taking some of the pressure off the silence between you.

Yoongi shifted back against the cushions, reaching over to pop open the pizza box. The rich aroma of melted cheese and garlic hit the air again, making your mouth water. He pulled out a slice, offering it to you first with a silent tilt of his head.

“Here,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on the screen but his attention entirely focused on making sure you actually ate.

“Thanks,” you whispered, taking the hot slice from him. Your fingers brushed lightly against his palm in the handoff, a small spark of static heat leaving your skin tingling. You took a bite, the comfort food instantly helping to soothe the last stubborn knots of anxiety in your stomach.

Yoongi grabbed a slice for himself, leaning his head back against the sofa. For the first twenty minutes, the room was quiet save for the dialogue on screen and the occasional low grunt of agreement from Yoongi during his favorite scenes. But despite the fast-paced movie, you could still feel the heavy, magnetic pull of his presence right beside you, the heat radiating from his shoulder completely throwing off your concentration.

As the movie progressed, your chest tightened slightly as a particularly intense sex scene cut in, the heavy panting and explicit visuals on screen catching you completely off guard. Under the warm glow of the lamps, you felt a sudden, familiar spike of heat pool in your stomach.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the raven. He looked over at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Feeling antsy, babygirl?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing hum that barely carried over the sound of the TV. He leaned in just a fraction closer, the sharp scent of his citrus cologne flaring to life again, entirely breaking whatever focus you had left.

“W-what?”

“You heard me,” Yoongi said softly, his smirk widening just a fraction as he caught the tiny stutter. He tilted his head, watching the way your breath hitched under the warm lamplight. “You're shifting around like the couch is on fire. Is something on the screen getting to you?”

He casually reached over to grab another handful of popcorn, his forearm brushing against your knee with a deliberate, lingering slowness. The sudden, brief contact sent another spark right through you, the citrus scent of his cologne enveloping you completely and practically dragging your mind straight back to the memory of his hands on your skin the night before.

“I'm just trying to get comfortable,” you lied, desperately aiming for a defensive tone but only managing a breathless murmur as you forced yourself to look back at the TV.

Yoongi let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated deep in his chest. He didn't move away. Instead, he leaned back into the cushions, his shoulder firmly pressed against yours, letting you feel every bit of his body heat. “Sure you are,” he hummed, his dark eyes still locked on your profile. “But if you keep moving like that, I'm going to start thinking you want me to do something about it.” 

“I don't,” you insisted, though the way your voice wavered at the end entirely betrayed you.

Yoongi didn't say another word. Instead, he slowly reached for the remote on the coffee table and pressed pause. The loud, chaotic audio from the movie abruptly cut out, plunging the living room into a sudden, heavy silence that made the sound of your rapid breathing feel incredibly loud. 

He turned fully on the cushions, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intense, unblinking focus that made it impossible to look away. The teasing smirk was still playing on his lips, but there was a deeper weight to his gaze now.

“You're a shit liar,” he said, leaning forward just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. “Your mouth is saying one thing, but I bet your pussy is saying another. So, what are we doing here?” 

The blunt shift in his tone sent a sharp, undeniable jolt straight through you. Yoongi's gaze felt incredibly heavy, tracking your every micro-reaction as his words hung in the quiet space between you. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer confidence dripping from him.

“N-Nothing. We’re doing nothing.”

“No?” He raised a brow. “You don’t want a rerun of what this dick feels like? You don’t wanna do what they were doing in the movie?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, practically peeling the skin off with how hard you dug your teeth in. The truth was, you did. You wanted to have sex with Yoongi again. It was foolish trying to deny it, especially with him right here, reminding you exactly of what you were missing.

The raven suddenly grabs your wrist, yanking you on top of his lap in one swift motion. His hands held your hips while yours flew to grip the headrest of the couch. Yoongi slowly begins to grind you against him, the thick, rigid length of his cock pressed directly against your heat through his jeans, leaving no doubt about exactly what he wanted.

“You can keep playing fucking dumb all you want,” he whispered, his grip tightening on your hips as he leaned closer, his breath hot and commanding against your lips. “But you’re already dripping for it, aren’t you? Tell me how bad you want this dick inside you again.”

You bit the inside of your cheek harder, the sharp sting of pain the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart as he set the rhythm.

Yoongi didn't miss the flare of your nostrils or the way your fingers dug desperately into the fabric of the headrest. A dark, satisfied smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, his hands squeezing your hips with bruising force, grounding you completely against his thighs. Every slow, deliberate roll of his hips sent a devastating wave of friction straight to your core, turning your insides to liquid.

“Nothing?” he taunted softly, his voice dropping into that raw, scratchy register that always made your chest tight. He paused the movement for just a second, holding you flush against the hard ridge of his jeans, letting you feel exactly how much control he had over the situation. “Still wanna tell me we're doing nothing?”

He leaned in until his lips were barely brushing yours, teasing you with the ghost of a kiss you were dying to take.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his thumbs digging into your hip bones. “Say it to my face while you're grinding against my dick. Tell me you don't want it.”

You shake your head, refusing to give him the satisfaction of you giving into him again. 

Yoongi let out a low, dark chuckle at your defiance, the sound vibrating right against your lips. He liked when you fought it—it only made the inevitable surrender that much sweeter.

"Oh, it’s like that?" he questioned, his grip shifting from your hips to wrap firmly around your waist. Without warning, his hands locked tight and he rolled his hips up in a sudden, hard upward thrust. The brutal, direct friction through the heavy denim hit your sensitive core with devastating accuracy, forcing a sharp, breathless gasp straight out of your throat before you could stop it. Your fingers dug desperately into the headrest, straining for grip just to keep your balance on his thighs. 

“Maybe I was a little too gentle with you last time,” he growled, his voice dropping into a dark, rough promise as he held you perfectly still against his hardness. “Maybe you need to know who the boss is.”

Yoongi didn't wait for a response. He locked his fingers brutally tight into your waist, anchoring you down, and drove his hips up again. This time, he didn't stop. He started a hard, relentless rhythm, rolling against you with an unyielding pressure that crushed his rigid length directly into your aching center over and over again.

The heat building between your clothes was immediate and scorching. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave straight to your core, dragging high, broken whimpers from the back of your throat that you were entirely powerless to choke back. You could barely keep your hands clamped onto the headrest as the raw force of his movements rocked your entire body, sliding you helplessly against the rough denim of his jeans.

“Look at me,” he commanded, the low order vibrating right against your mouth as he kept the brutal pace steady. He leaned up, his teeth nipping viciously at your bottom lip before sealing his mouth over yours, drinking down your breathless gasps as he completely took control.

He pulled back just enough to let you catch a desperate breath, though his mouth stayed close enough to brush your lips with every word. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving hard against yours as his hands tightened on your waist, using his grip to tilt your hips back and align you even deeper against his hardness.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you again.”

The raw command hung heavy in the air, the sheer filthiness of the words making your heart hammer violently.

Yoongi’s eyes didn’t leave yours for a single second. He kept you completely pinned, his cock an agonizing pressure right against your wetness, letting you feel exactly how hard he was for you while denying you the one thing that would bring relief. The friction had left you entirely raw, your body practically screaming for him to start moving again.

You swallowed hard, your lips parting as you stared back at him, the last remnants of your resolve completely fracturing under his intense gaze.

“Say it,” he prompted, his voice dropping into a rough, low rumble that vibrated straight through your core. He nudged his hips forward just a fraction of an inch—a tiny, torturous tease that made you instinctively arch into him. “I wanna hear it.”

“I-I…” you started, finally feeling yourself give into him again. You didn’t know what it was about the raven that kept you coming around and making bad choices, but the fact of the matter was—you didn’t care anymore. “I want you to fuck me again.”

“That’s my good girl.” His tongue flicks your bottom lip, a quick, teasing heat. “Now, get up,” he demands.

You furrow your brows in confusion, but you follow his order nonetheless and climb off of him, your bare legs trembling slightly as your feet hit the floor.

He stands up from the couch, holding his hand out for you to take. You do. His fingers lock firmly around yours, pulling you up the rest of the way and leading you straight toward your bedroom.

You stand at the foot of your bed, completely still as you wait for his next move. The heavy silence of the bedroom is broken only by the sound of your own rapid breathing.

“Strip for me,” he says suddenly.

The command hits you like a physical blow. You freeze, the air caught in your throat. “Huh?”

“Did I stutter? Strip for me,” he repeats, his voice dropping into a harsh, unyielding tone that leaves absolutely no room for argument.

You nod quickly, your heart hammering against your ribs. Panic and excitement twist together in your stomach; you hadn’t been completely naked the last time you two had sex, and the thought of being entirely bare and vulnerable under the raven's intense, critical gaze makes your hands tremble as you reach for the edge of your shirt.

Yoongi doesn't offer a single word of reassurance to ease your nerves. Instead, he just steps back a single pace, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands tall. His dark eyes lock onto you, tracking your every movement.

Your fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. With a shaky breath, you pull it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor. The cool air of the bedroom hits your bare skin, making your goosebumps rise instantly, but the heat from his intense gaze feels hot enough to burn.

“The rest of it,” he commands, his voice low and completely flat, though the slight muscle twitching in his jaw betrays how closely he’s watching you.

You swallow past the lump in your throat, your hands moving down to the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts. Being completely exposed before him feels entirely different this time—raw, vulnerable, and completely under his control. You slide the shorts down your legs along with your underwear, stepping out of the fabric until you are standing entirely bare at the foot of your bed, your chest heaving as you try to brave his inspection.

Yoongi’s eyes slowly travel down your body, taking in every inch of your bare skin with a heavy, unblinking focus that makes your thighs press together instinctively. A slow, dark satisfaction finally breaks across his face.“Turn around,” he says, his hands reaching down to unbuckle his belt.

You nod again, turning your back to him. The sudden loss of visual control makes your heart race even faster, leaving you with nothing but the sharp, metal clanking of Yoongi’s belt buckle echoing in the quiet room. You are dying with anticipation, every muscle in your body tense as you await his next move.

Suddenly, the air behind you shifts. You feel the raven standing directly behind you, his heavy presence looming over your back and his hot breath feathering across your neck. Before you can even process the proximity, his hands move over your head, looping the heavy leather of his belt around your neck like a collar and pulling it just taut enough to make you gasp.

“Y-Yoongi, what’re you doing?” you stammer, your voice trembling as the leather settles firmly against your skin.

The raven doesn’t answer. Instead, his grip on the leather tightens slightly as he guides you around to face him, the makeshift collar looping around your throat with the movement.

Yoongi holds the strap of the belt securely in his hands, wrapping the excess leather around his knuckles as he pulls you flush against him. The rough texture of his clothes rubs directly against your bare chest and stomach, the sudden contact sending a shiver straight down your spine. He looks down at you, his dark eyes filled with an unyielding intensity.

“Something I’d know you’d like,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, heavy rasp that vibrates against your lips. “You trust me, princess?”

You look up into the raven’s dark eyes, searching the intense depth in them before you slowly nod. “Y-yes. I trust you.”

Yoongi smirks, a dark, satisfied expression crossing his features. “Good girl. Now get on your knees for me.”

Your breath hitches at the sheer authority in his tone. Without a second thought, your body moves on instinct, your knees sinking onto the floor right at his feet. Because he keeps his grip tight, the leather belt pulls tight against the back of your neck as you move down, forcing you to keep your chin up and look straight up at him.

Looking up from the floor, you are completely at his mercy, your hands resting tentatively on your own thighs as you brave his downward gaze.

Yoongi stands tall above you, looking down with a dark, unyielding intensity that clearly satisfies him. He gives the strap a faint, testing tug, tilting your face up just a fraction more.

“Look at you,” he rasps, his voice thick with a sudden, heavy heat. “So desperate to please me.”

He brings his thumb down to your mouth, his rough skin brushing over your lower lip. “Open.”

You follow his order, much like you had been doing all night, your lips parting without hesitation. Yoongi pushes his thumb deep into your mouth, and like an instinct, your lips seal around it as you suck on his thumb. A dark, low groan escapes the back of his throat at the immediate sensation, his fingers tightening on the leather strap as he watches your mouth work around him.

His eyes darken completely, tracking the rhythm of your mouth as you wrap your tongue around his thumb. The wet, rhythmic heat of it clearly drives him over the edge. With a sharp exhale, he slowly drags his wet thumb past your lips, leaving them slick and slightly parted.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough and uneven.

Before you can even catch your breath, his free hand returns to his unzipped jeans. He pushes them down just far enough, freeing his cock right in front of your face. It's fully erect, heavy and pulsing with his anticipation, the head glistening with precum. 

Yoongi doesn't force himself in. Instead, he uses the leather strap of the belt to gently guide your head forward, holding you steady as he brushes the warm, smooth tip of his cock against your wet bottom lip. The contrast of the heavy leather at your neck and his burning skin against your lips makes your heart hammer frantically. 

“Now take it, princess,” he commands, his gaze locking hard onto yours. "Show me how bad you want me to fuck you."

You open your mouth wider, leaning into his touch as you take the broad head of his cock past your lips. The sudden fullness fills your mouth instantly, the intense heat of him consuming your senses. You wrap your lips tightly around his cock, your hands gripping your own thighs as you slowly take him deeper, trying to adjust to his size.

A heavy, guttural groan rips from the back of Yoongi’s throat. His hips twitch forward slightly on instinct, but he catches himself, his knuckles turning white as he tightens his grip on the leather strap of the belt to keep your head perfectly steady.

“F-fuck, princess,” he pants, his head tilting back for a fraction of a second as your warm, wet mouth works around him.

He looks back down at you, his eyes completely blown out and dark with lust. His free hand slides around to the back of your head, his palm anchoring you firmly in place alongside the tension of the belt.

“Just like that,” he rasps, his breathing heavy and ragged as he begins to slowly dictate the pace, nudging his hips forward to push a little deeper into your throat. “Take it all for me.”

You try your best not to gag, swallowing hard against the thick fullness of him. It had been a while since you’d given anyone head, and your throat is definitely out of practice. You may have been a virgin intercourse-wise, but certainly not mouth-wise—you had to keep your ex-boyfriends around somehow.

He slowly begins to move his hips, a steady, agonizingly slow friction that drags the smooth length of his cock against your tongue and lips. Every slide forward fills your mouth completely, testing the limits of your jaw, but you hold your ground, determined to prove your skill despite the break you've had.

“Yeah, you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” Yoongi rasps, a tight, breathless smirk cutting through his expression. He watches the focused, submissive look on your face, his dark eyes ablaze with absolute possessiveness. “I thought my babygirl was a virgin through-and-through, but it’s obvious you’ve sucked dick before.”

The sudden callout makes your eyes widen around his length, a flush of heat creeping up your neck that has nothing to do with the friction in your mouth. You try to look up at him through your lashes, but the firm pressure of his palm against the back of your head keeps you pinned right where he wants you.

Yoongi lets out a dark, low chuckle at your reaction, the sound vibrating deeply against your lips. He doesn’t sound angry—if anything, the discovery only seems to fuel his dominance, turning him even more ruthless.

“Don’t stop,” he growls softly, his fingers tightening on the leather strap of the belt as his hips deliver a sharp, demanding roll into your mouth. “Tell me who taught you how to use that mouth so well while you take every single inch of me.”

You pull back just enough to let his cock slip past your lips, the leather strap of the belt keeping your chin tilted up as you look up at him. Your chest heaves, a thin silver strand of saliva bridging the small gap between your mouth and the glistening head of his cock.

“My ex-boyfriends,” you admit breathlessly, your voice small but honest under his heavy gaze.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching instantly. The mention of other guys having your mouth like this clearly strikes a chord, but his mind immediately jumps to the one person he’s been fully aware of this entire time.

He looks down at you, his fingers tightening on the leather strap of the belt to pull you a fraction closer. With his free hand, he reaches up and hooks his fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back from his face as a dark, dangerous look settles over his features.

“Your exes,” Yoongi repeats, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register. He leans forward, looming over you with an overwhelming intensity. “What about Jungkook?”

You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I… I never gave Jungkook head,” you whisper, the honesty spilling out of you before you can stop it.

A slow, deeply satisfied smirk cuts through Yoongi’s expression at your confession, the raw jealousy instantly morphing into pure, dominant victory.

“Never?” he rasps, a dark, low chuckle vibrating in his chest as his palm presses firmly against the back of your head. He guides you forward, the warm, glistening tip of his cock pressing right against your lips. “Good. Keep it that way.”

His hips roll forward, burying himself deep inside your throat once again.

The sudden, deeper penetration catches you completely off guard. Your eyes water instantly, tears spilling over your lashes and wetting your cheeks as your throat clamps down around his thick length. You try your best to control the reflex, your fingers digging tightly into your own thighs as you take the full depth of his thrust.

Yoongi lets out a heavy, ragged groan, the feeling of your tight throat squeezing his cock clearly driving him crazy. He keeps his palm firmly anchored against the back of your head, maintaining a ruthless, unyielding pressure that matches the tight pull of the belt at your neck.

Through his hair falling forward around his face, his dark eyes lock onto yours, watching the raw, tearful submission on your face with absolute satisfaction.

“Yeah, take it,” he growls softly, his breathing growing louder and more uneven as he begins to establish a steady, punishing rhythm. His hips snap forward, pulling back just far enough to catch his breath before burying himself right back into your mouth. “Good girl. Take every single inch of it.”

The wet, frantic sounds of your mouth working around him fill the quiet room, completely erasing any thought of your exes or Jungkook. In this moment, under the heavy weight of his gaze and the tight grip of the leather belt, Yoongi is the only thing that exists.

He pulls back nearly to the tip, letting you catch a single, ragged breath before plunging straight back in, harder this time. A soft, muffled whine is dragged from your chest, the sound completely swallowed by his length as he bottoms out against your throat.

Yoongi’s chest heaves, his pale skin slick with a light sheen of sweat under the dim room lighting. He tilts his head back for a brief second, his jaw tightly clenched and the veins in his neck straining as he rides the intense wave of pleasure you’re giving him. His hair swings forward again as he looks back down, his expression completely consumed by unadulterated lust.

“Your mouth feels so good,” he pants, his voice dropping into a desperate, fractured whisper. “F-fuck, baby, you’re ruining me.”

The rhythm shifts from controlled to urgent. His hips snap forward in quicker, heavier successions, the unyielding palm at the back of your head keeping you perfectly pinned to his pace. You can feel the heat building inside him, the heavy pulse of his cock thickening even further against your tongue as he edges closer to the brink.

He loosens his grip on the leather strap just enough to slide his free hand under your chin, forcing your face up so he can look directly into your tear-filled eyes.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he commands, his breathing entirely ragged now, his hips stuttering as he delivers a few final, shallow thrusts deep into your mouth. “Look at me. I wanna see you looking at me when I cum.”

You keep your eyes locked on his, your vision blurry from the tears streaming down your face, but you don’t dare blink. Under the intense, burning weight of his gaze, your heart hammers frantically against your ribs as you swallow down the urge to pull away.

Yoongi lets out a shattered, guttural groan from the back of his throat. His entire body tenses, the muscles in his arms locking as he maintains his unyielding grip—his fingers still tightened on the leather strap of the belt while his other hand holds your chin firmly, keeping your face tilted up to his. His hair falls forward, framing his face as his expression contorts with raw pleasure.

With one final, heavy roll of his hips, he buries his cock as deep as it can go into your throat and freezes.

“F-fuck—”

His voice cracks on the syllable as his cock pulses violently inside your mouth. You feel the sudden, intense heat of his climax hitting the back of your throat, a thick, heavy rush that fills your mouth completely. Your hands grip your thighs so hard your nails dig through the skin, your body trembling from the sheer intensity of keeping still while he releases everything inside your mouth.

Yoongi holds you perfectly pinned, his chest heaving violently as he rides out the waves of his release, his dark eyes completely blown out as he watches you take every single drop.

He slowly begins to pull back, his breathing ragged and uneven as his cock slides past your lips with a pop. Your jaw aches from the stretch, and a small gasp escapes you as you finally catch your breath, your chest heaving violently. A thick drop of his cum spills over your bottom lip, tracing a slow line down your chin.

Slowly, his breathing begins to even out, but the dark, possessive haze in his eyes doesn’t fade. If anything, looking down at your tear-stained face only seems to light a different kind of fire in him. He lets out a low, rough exhale, his thumb stroking along your jawline as his grip on the belt tightens again.

“Get in the bed on your hands and knees,” Yoongi commands, his voice dropping into a gravelly, unyielding register. “I’m not even close to finished with you.”

He lets go of the belt, allowing you to scramble to the bed. You shift to the very edge of the mattress, dropping your knees to the soft fabric while your hands grip whatever they could of the bed for support. The position leaves you completely exposed, your back arched as you wait for him. 

Yoongi stands tall behind you, looming over the bed like a dark shadow. He doesn't waste a second. He steps into the narrow space between your thighs, his thighs pressing flush against the back of yours as he locks you into place.

One of his hands comes down heavily onto your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with an unyielding grip to pull your body firmly back against him. With his other hand, Yoongi reaches up your spine, his knuckles brushing against your shoulder blades as he finds the leather strap still looped around your neck.

He wraps his fingers tightly around the leather, his grip instantly tightening to pull your chin up. The sudden tension forces your back to arch even deeper, your fingers digging tightly into the mattress as you try to keep your balance.

Standing behind you, Yoongi lets out a low, ragged exhale, the friction of his cock rubbing between your wet folds as he uses the belt to control your posture completely.

“Look straight ahead,” he commands softly, “And hold on tight to the bed, princess.”

He doesn’t wait another second. Holding you perfectly secure with his grip on your hip and the leather strap, Yoongi aligns his cock with your entrance, then drives his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you in one smooth, heavy thrust.

A sharp, breathless scream is ripped from your throat, your back arching even tighter as your body tries to adjust to the sudden, stretching fullness of him. He is entirely bottoming out against you with a force that makes the bed creak beneath your hands.

Standing tall behind you, Yoongi lets out a low groan, his shoulders squaring as his chest heaves. He pauses for just a heartbeat, letting you feel the thick, heavy pulse of him stretching you open from the inside before he begins to move.

He pulls back nearly all the way, only to plunge straight back in, setting a punishing pace. Every heavy thrust of his hips snaps against you, the steady friction building a white-hot heat between your thighs.

"F-fuck," he pants, his voice ruined and breathless from above you as his grip tightens on the belt, pulling back just enough to keep your head tilted high. "You feel so good, princess."

Yoongi doesn’t ease up, he maintains that rhythm, each heavy plunge driving him deep into your cunt. The sheer density of his erection is unyielding, a thick, searing weight that fills you completely and leaves you utterly breathless.

His grip on your hip is hot where his fingers press into your skin, anchoring you against the momentum of his hips. With his other hand, he keeps the leather strap of the belt taut, the firm upward tension ensuring your back stays deeply arched and your face remains tilted high. Every time he bottoms out, the sharp impact shuddering through your frame forces another fractured gasp from your lips.

“O-oh fuck… Yoongi!” You cry out. 

The sound of his heavy, rhythmic thrusts echoes loudly in the quiet room, mixed with the low, gravelly friction of his breath from right behind you. He watches the movement of his own body entering yours, his dark eyes fixed on the view with an intense, unblinking focus.

"Don't lose your grip," he commands, his voice dropping into a rough, dominant growl as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, and entirely relentless. "Stay right there for me, princess."

You nod your head, trying to keep your arms steady. 

From behind, one of his hands anchors tightly to your hip while the other maintains a firm hold on the belt. He leans down, his voice rough against your ear. “That’s my girl. You like when I fuck you, don’t you?”

The heavy, rhythmic friction of his body against yours fills the space, entirely consuming your senses as he continues to drive into you. The bite of his fingers on your hip keeps you completely pinned, leaving no room for you to pull away even if you wanted to.

Your chest heaves, breaths coming in shallow, ragged hitches while you fight to keep your weight supported, every muscle in your arms trembling under the strain.

He lets out a low, gravelly grunt of approval, the sharp snap of the belt tight against your skin as he drives forward again, deeper and more punishingly than before. "Answer me," he commands, his hot breath brushing the back of your neck.

"I wanna hear it," he growls, his voice vibrating through you as he maintains the relentless pace. He shifts slightly, the hand on your hip digging in deeper to ensure you don't falter, while the belt remains taut, a constant, heavy reminder of his control.

You choke out a breathless sound, your head falling back as the intensity of his movements leaves you reeling. Every time he drives into you, the friction makes it harder to stay upright, your arms shaking violently as you struggle to hold your position against his force.

“Y-yes! I like when you fuck me!” 

He lets out a dark, satisfied chuckle, sensing your struggle and relishing the lack of fight left in you. "That's it," he murmurs, his tone dropping even lower, thick with possessive intent. “I wanna hear you admit every single bit of it. That you don’t want this to end, that you don’t want me to stop.” 

You had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about sex anymore. 

“I-I don’t want this to end, I don’t want you to stop!” 

The smiles, the words sounding like music to his ears. “I could give you the fucking world, baby.” His movements pause for a split second, a heavy, deliberate stillness that makes your heart hammer against your ribs, before he crashes back into you with twice the force. The shift in his demeanor is sharp—the playful, rough edge replaced by something possessive and consuming.

"The world," he repeats, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that seems to rattle your very bones. He pulls the belt, forcing your hips to stay locked into his rhythm, his knuckles pressing firmly against your lower back. "You have no idea what I’m capable of giving you, or what I’m going to expect in return."

He leans down, pressing his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, his stubble grazing your skin. The heat radiating off him is suffocating, turning the air in the shop heavy and thick.

"You’re mine, princess," he murmurs, his pace accelerating again, his thrusts driving deep enough to leave you breathless and shaking. "And if you’re as good as I know you are, maybe you’ll be mine for a lot longer."

The intensity of his words sinks into you, heavier than the physical weight of his body. The implication lingers in the air, shifting the dynamic from a fleeting, heated moment into something far more demanding.

He senses your hesitation, the way your breath hitches at his ultimatum, and he punctuates his point by pinning your hip down with such force it leaves you breathless. His hand on the belt gives a sharp, grounding tug, pulling you deeper into him, forcing you to meet his rhythm head-on.

"Don't go quiet on me now," he growls, his voice a low, jagged demand. He drags his teeth lightly against the sensitive skin of your shoulder, his grip tightening as he pushes you to the edge. "You’ve already said the words, and there’s no taking them back. You belong to me now, and you’re going to prove it."

The air in the room is thick, heavy with the scent of your combined heat. You’re completely surrendered to the pace he’s setting, your senses frayed, your body reacting to every demand before he even has to voice it.

He senses the way you’ve stopped fighting, the way your resistance has dissolved into pure, desperate need, and he lets out a low, guttural growl of satisfaction. He shifts his grip, his thumb pressing hard against your hipbone while his other hand keeps the belt pulled, anchoring you in place as he finds a new, punishing rhythm.

"That's it, princess," he murmurs, his voice a jagged rasp against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and uneven. He drives into you again, harder this time, his movements possessive and absolute. There is no space left for your own thoughts, only the overwhelming weight of him and the sharp, grounding reality of his control. Every instinct you have is centered on the friction, on the way his body dominates yours, and on the terrifying, thrilling weight of his promise that this is only the beginning.

“Y-Yoongi, I’m almost there–” you manage to moan out. 

"Give it to me, baby. All of it."

With one final, punishing thrust, you shatter, your entire body arching as the world narrows down to nothing but the sound of your cries and his heavy, satisfied growl against your skin.

He collapses forward, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he lets out a series of ragged, uneven breaths against your shoulder. The force of his hold on your hip doesn't slacken immediately, his fingers remaining locked into your skin as if he’s still branding you, and his other hand still has the belt coiled tight, tethering you to him even as the momentum dies away.

The room is silent except for the harsh, synchronized sound of your breathing. He stays there for a long moment, his chest heaving against your back, his presence feeling heavier and more suffocating than before. Slowly, he shifts, his hand sliding from your hip to snake around your waist, pulling you back against his front until there is no space left between you.

"Still mine?" he murmurs, his voice barely audible, raw and stripped of its earlier dominance, replaced by something sharper and possessive.  "You don't get to walk away from that, princess. You don't get to walk away from me." 

“Yoongi… it’s not that simple.” You say softly, Jungkook still heavy on your heart. Even after all this, you still couldn’t get over him. 

“Figure out how to make it simple, y/n. You said you didn’t want this to end, so it won’t. But I’m not keen on sharing for too long. Keep that in mind.” 

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