Blooming Lotus Flower

© KISSKKU do not copy, repost or modify my work.

"Your turn," you snap without meaning to one morning.

Yoongi arches a brow at you, unfazed. "No, I showered yesterday."

You roll your eyes. "You showered for three minutes yesterday.”

He shrugs. "It still counts.”

By Thursday evening, you're tired and annoyed. Work was gruelling and you desperately need a relaxing shower.

You peel your clothes off in the bathroom, stepping out of the day's exhaustion. Reluctantly, you turn on the faucet and wait a few minutes.

“Maybe I'll get lucky,” you mutter.

The second you stick your hand beneath the spray, you hiss and yank it back.

“Jesus Christ!”

It's ice cold, searing into your skin.

You stare at the stream for a moment.

It stares back.

"You know what?" you tell it. "I don't even like you.”

You step in anyway because a miserable shower is better than no shower.

You instantly regret it. Every muscle in your body locks up as the water hits your skin, fast and unforgiving. You let out a sound between a gasp and a curse as you fumble for your shampoo bottle.

“This is ridiculous,” you gripe, already lathering it between your palms. You move quickly, washing your hair like you're being timed.

The shampoo barely has a chance to sit before you're rinsing it out. Cold water runs down your back and you shudder, teeth chattering.

"This is exactly how people die," you declare as you turn the showerhead away from you.

By the time you're scrubbing body wash across your arms, you've mentally drafted three separate complaints for the plumber. You don't even hear the bathroom door open over the rush of water and your own muttering.

What you do hear is a familiar chuckle, low and warm.

You pause, sponge halting over your elbow.

"You better be laughing with me," you say, not even turning around.

"I'm trying," Yoongi says. You can hear the grin in his voice.

You glance over your shoulder. He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you suffer.

The smug, handsome bastard.

You scoff at him. "You think this is funny?"

"A little,” he admits lovingly.

You glare at him through the glass shower door. "Get out."

"No."

"Yoongi."

His grin widens. "You're making the exact face Holly makes when we give him a bath."

You curse as you run the stream over your body, soap suds swirling colorfully down the drain.

"You know what?" you say. "I hope it's freezing when it's your turn."

"It was freezing this morning,” he replies calmly.

You huff indignantly. "Good."

He sighs, but affection flickers across his face as he looks at you. "You really do look miserable.”

“Wow. Romantic,” you deadpan.

He laughs quietly, pushing off the doorframe. “You know I love you.”

Whatever snarky comment was brewing dies on your tongue. You immediately look away as color blooms on your cheeks, staring at the tile instead. You feel ridiculous. You've been married for years. You share a house, a dog—hell, you've even talked about what your future kids might look like. Yet those three words still manage to catch you off guard.

A pleased smile tugs at the corner of Yoongi's mouth. “Cute.”

“Shut up,” you say to the floor instead of him. You blindly reach for the faucet, fingers slipping around the wet handle.

“Oh, come on.”

As you continue your struggle, you hardly hear the rustle of fabric behind you.

“Need any help?” Yoongi suddenly asks.

Your jaw tightens in annoyance. “No, obviously not,” you start, sarcastic and fed up, “I'm doing fi—”

Your voice dies the moment you turn around.

Yoongi has abandoned his shirt on the counter, his belt already unfastened and hanging loosely from his hips.

“Oh.”

Yoongi glances down at himself, then back at you. One eyebrow lifts suspiciously.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, trying very hard to act normal. Your face prickles with heat, sparing you some relief from the chill.

You fail the moment he slips off his jeans and boxers in one go.

Your eyes immediately betray you as they flick down, then back to his face, then back down again.

A laugh escapes Yoongi as he steps closer.

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

You snap your gaze upward. “I know.”

Yoongi merely hums, disbelieving, and steps into the shower without another word.

The second he reaches for you, you go willingly.

His arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you back against him, and the contrast nearly makes you groan. Every inch of him feels warm compared to the freezing water pelting your skin.

"You're freezing," he murmurs.

"No kidding,” you reply, already melting against him.

A quiet laugh rumbles through his chest. His hands move slowly over your arms, rubbing feeling back into them. The gesture is absentminded, something he's done a hundred times before.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder and close your eyes. For the first time all evening, you stop thinking about the water heater and work and everything else going wrong.

Your world dissolves into the steady rhythm of Yoongi's hands and his chest pressed along your spine.

"Sweet girl," he says softly.

You can't stop the smile that pulls at your lips. He presses a kiss to your damp hair.

“Pretty girl,” he adds, almost like an afterthought.

You crack one eye open. That one gets you.

“Don't,” you warn him, but the fight drains from you as his hands drift lower to settle on your hips.

Yoongi's hands are slightly rough, fingers calloused from playing guitar, but the touch still makes your heart flutter.

You shouldn't be this flustered. He's touched you like this plenty of times.

And yet, when his thumbs sweep slowly across your hips, you stop paying attention to the water's assault around you.

You turn in his arms, meaning to say something capable of salvaging what remains of your dignity.

But you find him already watching you, attentive and adoring. The same look he had on your wedding day.

Heat spreads through your chest at the memory.

A droplet of water slides from his hair and down his face, catching on his bottom lip.

Without meaning to, you follow the swipe of his tongue across his lip.

Yoongi's mouth twitches in amusement when he notices.

“Oh, now who's staring?”

You catch yourself, giving a small, flustered shake of your head. “Pffft. Not me.”

He taps your side thoughtfully. “You're cute when you get shy. Did you know that?”

Before you can think of a comeback, he reaches up and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. His knuckles graze your cheekbone, wet skin sliding together.

You don't even realize you're leaning in until Yoongi closes the distance.

The kiss starts soft, but it never stays that way.

Your hand slides to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair and tugging lightly.

Yoongi makes a content sound against your mouth, his hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back. He pulls you closer until the space between you disappears, and your breath catches as your pelvises brush together.

Your mouth moves languidly with his, then a little more insistent when you chase him the moment he tries to pull back.

He huffs out a laugh. “Thought you were mad at me.”

“I am,” you insist.

Yoongi makes a face like he doesn't believe you for a second.

He's probably right.

The bathroom fills with the sound of rushing water and the occasional bump of elbows against the shower wall. You slowly lose track of how long you're standing there trading kisses, interrupted only by brief moments to breathe and roll your eyes at whatever ridiculous thing he's just whispered.

You hardly register him guiding you backward until your shoulders meet the cool tile wall. The contact makes you flinch, and Yoongi only laughs softly, pressing his lips soothingly to your cheek.

“I've got you,” he whispers.

And when his hand cups your jaw to meet your mouth again, you believe him.

The water doesn't feel so cold anymore. Maybe it's the heat Yoongi leaves behind on your skin as his hands wander, or it's the broken moan that leaves you when he cups your breasts.

Whatever it is, it's definitely Yoongi's fault.

“Feel better?” he eventually murmurs when you're clutching desperately at his shoulders.

Your knees nearly give out at the sincerity in his voice. God, you got lucky with him.

“No,” you lie, though you're ten times hotter now, pleasantly so.

Yoongi tilts his head. “No?” His thumb rolls slowly over your nipple, teasing.

Your hands tighten on his shoulders, and that's all the answer he needs.

“Mm. Sure, baby” he says, trying his best not to sound too smug. “Glad I could help.”

You nod weakly as your heart does little flips in your chest.

“I think…” You trail off shyly, fingers still tangled in his hair, “...the water heater should break more often.”

Yoongi smiles against your temple as he kisses you there. “Yeah? So I can hold you and keep you warm like this?”

He gives you a gentle squeeze, his solid chest pressing against yours. You let out a startled little squeak at the contact, drawing a laugh from him, his head tipping back slightly.

“A moment, Y/N?”

You were not often irritated. It was actually quite hard to get you to a point where it showed on the surface. You know, customer service and all that. 

But there was something about finishing your seven hour shift – that in actuality turned to nine hours – only to have your name called with your jacket halfway over your shoulders.

Your mouth probably quivered in the effort, but you managed to force on a half-smile anyways. “Yeah?”

“Listen, I hate to ask you this, but can you take a shift tomorrow?”

If your manager hated it as much as she claimed, she would have asked anyone but you. Especially knowing how many extra shifts you had picked up lately due to sickness from other employees. More often than not, you cursed your strong immune system. 

Where was a cold when you truly needed it?

“I’m sorry, I’m actually busy tomorrow.” The lie was effortless on your part.

Your manager’s brows furrowed. “No way you can postpone?”

“No sorry. It’s a family birthday, can’t really postpone that, you know.”

You were honestly bone-tired after working the entire week, with all your six hour shifts becoming overtime by several hours and you just needed one damn day of rest. To just bed rot to your heart’s content without worrying. 

Your pride was usually too stubborn, and a few extra bucks in your account each month definitely never hurt, but you were certainly feeling your age right now.

“Oh okay.”

That was it, you supposed, mentally rolling your eyes as your manager turned back around without a goodbye as you watched her walk away with the tight smile still present.

God, you were not paid enough to deal with her attitude. 

“Bitch.” you couldn’t help but mutter to yourself. 

The cold was unforgiving in the beginning of this year, and you had never been much of an ice, snow or even cold weather person to begin with, which added to your already foul mood. 

You had to switch metro lines once, and then take a bus to get to your destination. And the idiot should appreciate your effort after a long shift. Not to mention all the security measures needed for you to get past just to get to his building.

The front door had never looked more inviting as you entered the doorcode and let it close shut behind you with a rhythmic beep. You could hear the sound of talking coming from the living room or kitchen, as well as the sound of the TV somewhere in the background.

“If anybody’s looking for me, it’s your birthday tomorrow!” You called out just before rounding the corner to the kitchen.

Yoongi blinked at you, while Jimin and Taehyung were mid-giggle about something.

“Oh, hey boys,” you added quickly, trying to hide the fatigue in your voice. 

A black little fluff ball weaved out from beneath the dinner table and trotted over to you eagerly as you cooed and bent down to greet him. “Look who it is, hi Tangie.”

The black cat was vocal, meowing at you in greeting and rubbing against your legs until you gently pushed him away to go sit down. 

“Hiyaa noona,” Tae grinned at you, picking up a piece of meat from the grill on the table. 

“Noona, come eat with us!” Jimin stood up to grab an extra set of chopsticks and a bowl of rice as you plopped down on the chair next to Yoongi. 

“What are you talking about?” He drawled to your sudden shoutout while wrapping up his ssam. 

“If my manager is asking, I'm busy with a family birthday tomorrow.”

“And how would your manager know me?”

“It’s a what-if situation, Yoongs. Just go with it.”

He huffed and wordlessly plated your bowl with rice and several pieces of perfectly grilled meat, as Jimin poured you a glass of soju. Always the gentlemen. 

You caught yourself smiling, small and soft, and felt the weariness in your chest ease just a little from their presence.

“Was work tough today, noona?”

“Less tough and more annoying, to be honest.”

“Let’s drink to that!” Tae held out his glass as you two clinked and downed it one shot. 

“What’s with the impromptu dinner?” You asked after a few bites. 

“We were bored,” Jimin shrugged. 

“They didn’t exactly ask to come,” Yoongi clarified in return. “Barged in like an hour ago demanding me to cook.”

“We asked you,” Taehyung corrected. “And came bearing gifts.”

“You mean soju which I already had in my fridge?”

“And now you got double, you’re welcome.”

You only chuckled to yourself at the usual bickering between the boys as they continued to talk about the past, and down alcohol like it was water. 

Maybe it was the weather, or even the significance of a new year beginning. But your mind somehow felt reminiscent. Sitting here in Yoongi’s large home, silently watching as he acted annoyed by his two younger members with that smile on his face. 

And somewhere in the back of your mind, the memories started to drift.

Your parents had been close – were close to this day. Though Yoongi’s family had moved to a newer house in the years that followed whilst your family still remained in the same neighborhood. 

They had dragged you to dinner at the petulant age of ten, promising there was going to be another kid there your age, and someone for you to play with. They just never mentioned it was a boy. And at that age, boys were very much gross to you. And yet, you grew inseparable. 

Yearly summer vacations spent together, sitting on the curb eating ice creams, biking through the streets and waiting for each other after school to walk home together. During your middle school years the two of you would often hang out on the school’s rooftop during breaks, being split into different classes. He was always scribbling away, and you beside him lounging tilting your head curiously now and then. 

“I’m gonna move to Seoul one day,” he often declared. 

“I know.”

“You do?”

“You love music, of course you’ll move.”

He frowned. “Do you think I’ll make it?”

“Yes,” you answered immediately. “Because you’re stubborn.”

By the time the two of you turned seventeen he was already active in the underground hip hop scene in Daegu. And you were often used as a scapegoat to distract his parents from his absence rather than being by his side.

“I’m supposed to be cool, Y/N. I can’t have you by my side like a clingy sister every performance,” he had whined while you gave him an unimpressed look. 

“Cool, my butt.”

You had been the one to help him pack the day before his move to Seoul, choosing which clothes were best fit for the fancy big city neither of you had experience living in. 

“Take the black one,” you had ordered.

“But I like the yellow one.”

“It makes you look like a middle schooler, don’t you want to be taken seriously?”

He switched it out without another word. 

His first year in Seoul went by with constant phone calls and texts. You even got scolded by your mother for spending your entire monthly phone credit in just two weeks for constantly calling him. 

And then one day it just stopped.

At first you hadn’t thought much of it. Yoongi was busy, and he often left you on read due to time restraints. But then it got suspicious. To the point even his own mother had received the same treatment. 

‘Are you dead?’

‘Yoongs?’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Did I do something?’

‘Hello?’

There were days between each one. And then weeks later, you got a reply;

‘I’m fine.’ 

You called right away, but it went unanswered. 

You couldn’t even remember your feelings back then, it felt too long ago. An emotional turmoil of a teenager that made no sense. And you had no choice but to grow up and continue your own life despite the heartbreak of a friendship lost. 

That’s why it felt strange at first when you stumbled across it; Bangtan Sonyeondan’s debut. 

It was a strange name, with an even stranger concept. But you had recognized him. 

Of course you had. 

And ever since that moment, he had never left your orbit even from a distance. Even when you didn’t want to, you saw it all. From their failed attempts to remain popular, to songs that didn’t make it big yet were still added to your playlist for genuinely being good music. 

It came to a point where you no longer viewed him as your Yoongi. But rather BTS’ Suga, and a part of you was convinced it helped you move on quicker. 

Then COVID hit, and you were forced to move back home to your parents. 

You chalked it up to coincidence at first; running into his mother at the grocery store after how many years? She had grown excited, even teary-eyed and hugged the life out of you as she cooed over how grown you were. A beautiful young woman. 

“You know, I think he’d love to hear from you.”

Your breath had hitched, until you forced out a small, polite laugh. “It’s been years. I doubt he even remembers.”

She had given you a knowing glance, rummaged in her bag and ripped out a small piece of paper and written a number on it. “He’s having a bit of a rough time right now, with everything being cancelled. I think a text from you would cheer him up.”

You felt your chest tighten, memories flooding back. The late-night calls, the unanswered messages, even the reluctant acceptance of distance.

“I’ll think about it, thank you.”

And you thought about it. For days. Staring at that single slip of paper like it was your largest obstacle.

‘Hey. It’s Y/N. From Daegu.’ 

It had only been an hour when the reply came. 

‘I know.’

“Another shot?” Jimin’s voice snapped you from your thoughts, chopsticks hovering dramatically over the grill.

“Yeah,” you said with a small laugh, reaching for your glass. Tae clinked his against yours, smirking.

Yoongi glanced at you, brow slightly raised, as if he could tell your mind was elsewhere. ‘You okay?’ His silent question was obvious and you just assured him with a smile. 

Yoongi always kept the grill going and filled your bowl to the point you were ready to roll home. So when it hit 10PM, you stood up with a stretch. “Right, time for me to head off.”

Yoongi’s brows furrowed as he glanced at the time. “It’s late already, just stay over.”

“Nuh uh. I stay at your place almost more than my own, and I still pay my bills.”

“Just stay and let me drive you home tomorrow morning.”

“The bus straight to my house is literally down the road,” You gave him a pointed look. “Besides, It’s my first day off in a week, so I will be rotting in my own bed and eating unhealthy food the entire day.”

With that declaration you grabbed your bag and gave them all a wave over your shoulder. “Don’t text me tomorrow unless someone’s dying.”

“At least let me call you a taxi!” He called at your retreating back.

“Buh bye!” Was all you said, and the sound of the door being unlocked and closing again. You left behind a waft of your favorite perfume; a deep warm combination of something spicy and floral.

Silence swiftly took over in your departure besides the TV. Well, for five seconds at least, until Jimin broke it.

“So when’s the wedding, hyung?”

“What are you on about?”

“Oh come on!” He giggled. “You’re telling me she isn’t the perfect woman for you?”

“She’s Y/N,” Yoongi rolled his eyes.

Taehyung smirked knowingly “Yeah, Y/N who’s been by your side since you were both ten.”

“Yah, not you too, Taehyung.”

“I’m just saying, hyung. Jimin has a point.”

“What point? She’s my best friend.”

“The point, that she's the only female who’s been by your side longer than your mom. And you’re saying you don’t have feelings for her?”

“Stop being a nuisance and finish the food.”

“Hyungnim!” Jimin suddenly spat out firmly, his face exaggeratingly strict which did not go in hand with his flushed cheeks and messy hair, as Taehyung snorted.

Yoongi only raised a brow silently, waiting.

“As your family, we think you need to pull your denial out of your ass and start looking.”

He ran a hand through his longer hair now, sighing heavily, knowing the two younger men wouldn’t let this go until he heard them out.

“Meaning?”

“Be honest, hyung,” Taehyung had dropped his chopsticks, leaning forward conspicuously over the table like they were discussing some kind of secret. “Are you telling us you haven’t once looked at Y/N noona and thought she was attractive?” 

Whether he was actually thinking about it or just teasing them by taking an extra long time to pour his shot and then sip it, they didn’t know. But Yoongi finally answered with a light shrug. “I have.”

“Because I can definitely tell you that Jeonggukie–wait what?” Taehyung actually looked genuinely surprised whilst Jimin let out a triumphant laugh while clapping.

“You have?”

Another shrug. “I’m well aware that Y/N is a pretty woman.”

“Then why haven’t you told her?”

“I tell her all the time.”

Jimin cut in with his continuous giggles. “Hyung, telling her she looks good, is not the same as telling your potential girlfriend you look beautiful.”

“Stop getting ahead of yourself. Who said anything about a girlfriend?”

“Oh my God.”

Leaning back in his chair, Yoongi zeroed back on Tae. “What were you saying about Jeongguk?”

It was Taehyung’s turn to shrug. “We’re pretty sure he has a crush on Y/N.”

“What makes you say that?”

Jimin exhaled, holding up his hand ready to count. “She’s pretty, smart, independent, physically fit, has tattoos and bonus points for being older. That’s pretty much his type.”

Yoongi didn’t react immediately. Because when Min Yoongi didn’t react, he was thinking. Deeply at that. 

Their hyung usually had a quick brain, and never failed to make them speechless with how smart he actually was. 

So this…this was a good sign. Right?

"He told you that?”

Jimin blinked. “Huh?”

“Didn’t think he had a type,,” Yoongi repeated flatly, eyes still on the table, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “Did he tell you that, or are you just assuming?”

Taehyung and Jimin shared a look.

“We have eyes, hyung,” Taehyung said carefully. “He’s not exactly subtle.”

Jimin nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, he gets all–” he gestured vaguely, shoulders hunching as he put on a poor imitation, “–Noona~ did you eat?’ ‘Noona~ you look tired’–”

“It’s actually quite pitiful to witness,” Taehyung added. 

Yoongi clicked his tongue, looking away. “You’re both reading too much into it.”

“Are we?” Taehyung asked, brows raising slightly.

“Most likely, like always..”

“Then why do you look like that?”

Yoongi frowned. “Like what?”

“Like you want to punch something.”

Jimin snorted. “Or someone.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t,” he repeated, firmer this time.

Then Jimin leaned forward slightly, resting his chin in his hand, eyes narrowing just a little. “Hyung.”

“What.”

“You know we’re not saying this to mess with you, right?”

He rolled his eyes, mouth tugging. “I know.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

Yoongi exhaled sharply, standing up before either of them could say anything else to grab a bottle of soju and shutting the fridge door a little harder than needed. “Because the two of you are trying to fish for something that isn’t there..”

“You’re certain about that?” Taehyung asked unflinchingly. He had grown more outspoken with his thoughts around his oldest members after the military, and Yoongi was getting the whole spectacle right now. “You’ve been weird about her for a while now.”

Yoongi turned slightly, leaning back against the counter, arms crossing. “Okay, weird how?”

Jimin exchanged another look with Taehyung before answering. “You watch her.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched, expression still trying to feign disinterest. 

“Like, all the time,” Jimin added. “You think no one notices, but–”

“That’s–”

“You do,” Taehyung smirked. “And you get annoyed when someone else is paying attention to her.”

“I don’t–”

“And you always make sure she eats,” Jimin continued, back to counting on his fingers now. “And you let her do whatever she wants here, but if anyone else does the same thing, you complain.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to protest, but his members were doing their darn best to not let him get a single word in. 

“You remember things she says that she doesn’t even remember saying.”

He looked away, down at the floor, really. At the slippers covering his feet “…so what?” he muttered. “She’s my friend.”

Jimin tilted his head. “Is that all she is?”

“Yes.” The answer came out automatically.

But it must have worked, because the persistence of Jimin and Taehyung seemed to calm down as they shrugged and finally left the topic alone, as if agreeing to let him off the hook for tonight. 

So to distract himself from their annoying gazes and muttered laughter, he did the dishes. Slowly and meticulously, because his brain was whirring too much to actually focus. 

And without his knowledge, Jimin smiled lightly behind his tense back exchanging a silent fist bump with Tae, as if the both of them didn’t just drop something in their second-oldest hyung’s lap and just disappear. 

“…Tch.”

+

The tip of your pointed heels were pinching your toes for each step as you got off the bus in a slight hurry, trying to smooth down your freshly curled hair and flyaways all in one movement as the venue got closer. There were already dozens of guests mingling inside, holding champagne flutes and exchanging polite conversation as you brushed past them. 

You spotted the main couple near one of the double entrances greeting guests, and as you got closer your friend’s face brightened in recognition. 

“Y/N, you came!” She squealed happily, hugging you as her white poofy dress swallowed your legs as you stepped into the hug. 

You grinned at her excitement, impressed that she still had that much energy and returned the hug gently to not ruin anything. “Of course I came, you invited me.”

“Thank you for coming, Y/N,” Her husband smiled beside her, shaking your hand. 

“Of course, of course,” you waved off their gratitude before pulling out the white envelope from your purse. “Where’s the box?”

“Oooh, I’ll show you!” Soojin, your childhood friend, looped her arm through yours. “Honey, will you take over a bit? I need some girl talk.”

Her husband only smiled. “You two go ahead, I can handle the crowd.”

Before you had a chance to protest, Soojin was already pulling you into the venue hall where dozens of round tables were set up filled with people, but she pulled you further to the back where a large box for money envelopes stood and grabbed a flute of champagne for you on the way. 

“So,” you finally managed to pull her to a stop as the two of you stood in the corner, private but not hidden from sight. “How does it feel to be married?”

“Ugh, tiring,” Soojin let her head drop back, long veil brushing the floor. “But at least it’s almost over and done with.”

You glanced out of the room. “Who are even all these people?”

She waved her hand. “No idea. Most of them are his colleagues or friends of his parents’. My family and I just invited close friends and relatives.”

Sipping from the glass, you chuckled but stopped when noticing her looking. “What?”

“How’s everything on your end? Any handsome gentleman that is making those wedding bells ring?”

“God no!” You scoffed. “I’m a single, thirty-three year old woman who works at two different cafés. Not exactly dating material.”

“Girl,” Soojin pushed your shoulder in disagreement. “Who gives a shit what your job is, at least you have one!”

Fair point. 

You huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you took another sip of champagne. “Yeah, well, try telling that to literally any man over thirty.”

“They’re idiots,” she dismissed immediately. “And probably intimidated.”

“By what? My ability to steam milk and survive on three hours of sleep?”

“By this,” she gestured vaguely at you, up and down, as if that explained everything. “You’ve always had this thing, you know. Like you don’t need anyone. Independent woman and all that shit.”

A part of you was strangely touched by that. 

“I don’t,” you replied lightly, though it came out quieter than intended.

Soojin’s expression softened just a fraction, like she caught the shift but chose not to dig. “Still,” she nudged you again, grin returning. “if anyone tries anything tonight, I expect a full report.”

You rolled your eyes. “At your own wedding?”

“Especially at my own wedding. It’s prime matchmaking territory.”

“I’m not getting set up with someone’s cousin.”

“Too late,” she sang, already reaching for your hand again. “Come on, I need to introduce you to–”

“Soojin!” Her name was called from across the room, sharp enough to cut through the chatter.

She groaned dramatically. “Saved by the bell.”

“Go,” you laughed, gently pushing her away. “Bride duties.”

She squeezed your hand once more before letting go. “Don’t disappear, okay?”

“No promises.”

And just like that, she was gone, swallowed back into the crowd, her white dress a moving beacon among dark suits and muted colors of people dressed in mostly sleek business attires rather than fancy dresses. 

You ended up seated somewhere in the middle of the hall, wedged between a couple who introduced themselves as Soojin’s university friends and another woman who barely looked up from her phone.They were nice enough, with polite smiles, brief introductions and small talk that never quite went anywhere if you were being honest. 

You nodded when appropriate, laughed when expected, sipped your drink awkwardly when silence stretched just a second too long.

“…and then we all went to Busan for spring break, it was insane–”

The plates came and went, courses replaced one after another as speeches started, applause echoing across the room in bursts. You clapped along, half-genuine half out of your depth watching Soojin from afar; her bright smile, the way she leaned into her husband without thinking, the ease of it.

Something in your chest pinched at the sight. Jealousy perhaps, or even longing. You wondered just briefly, how it would feel. To have something like this, a day of celebration with a person constant at your side. 

You prided yourself in being an independent woman in a big city like Seoul. Surviving by yourself, not needing anyone to help with most things, but then he happened. Yoongi swooped back into your life like some damn hurricane, flipping your days upside down. 

No longer did you wake up to a silent phone, but a text message telling you to come over to dinner. Sometimes you found his car parked outside after a late shift and he would drive you home, or if you stayed over he would drive you to work with a full stomach. 

It was nauseating how caring he was without realizing it, and it didn’t help that your heart and stomach fluttered at everything he did. 

By the time dessert rolled around, you were halfway through mentally planning what greasy takeout you’d order tomorrow when her familiar voice came again. 

“Y/N!” You looked up to see Soojin slipping into the empty chair beside you, slightly breathless, cheeks flushed from moving around all evening.

“Finally found you,” she said, grabbing your arm like she was afraid you’d disappear.

You smiled, setting your fork down. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

“I know, but everyone keeps pulling me everywhere,” she huffed, before her eyes scanned your table briefly. “Are you okay? You look a bit bored.”

“I’m not bored,” you lied easily. “Just tired, double shifts.”

“Mm,” she hummed, clearly not buying it. Then, like a switch flipped, her expression brightened. “Okay, but listen. I know someone.”

You blinked. “Please no.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“He’s single, works in finance, makes good money–”

“I don’t care if he owns the bank, Soojin.”

“He’s tall!”

You gave her a flat look. “That’s your selling point?”

“It’s an important one.”

You let out a quiet laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “I’m not interested. But appreciate the effort.”

“Why not?” she pressed. “You can’t just be single forever.”

“Do you want to bet on that?”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I,” you said with a giggle, lifting your glass. 

“Girl, stop,” she nudged you hard enough to make you lean slightly. “You’re hot, you’re funny, and you’ve always had your life together way more than the rest of us.”

“That’s debatable.”

“It’s not,” she insisted. “And you should be dating. You deserve that.”

You softened a little at that, but still shook your head. “It’s just not… something I’m thinking about right now.”

“That’s exactly why I need to interfere.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m just saying–” she leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “what about someone you already know?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “I don’t like where this is going.”

She grinned. “What about Min Yoongi?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden name drop as your heart hammered. “Why him?”

Soojin tilted her head, studying you. “Didn’t you guys date?”

“What?” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head immediately. “No. Since when?”

“That’s what everyone thought,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You were literally attached at the hip.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, glancing down at your plate, “we also didn’t speak for like ten years after.”

There was a small pause, enough for you to look up only to regret. Because her eyes were fucking sparkling like the diamonds from her engagement ring she had sent a picture of. 

“No,” you warned immediately.

“You like him.”

“Soojin–”

“You do!”

You dragged a hand over your face, groaning under your breath. “Can you not start something at your own wedding?”

“This isn’t something, this is a revelation.”

“It’s not.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“I just did.”

“No, you deflected.”

“Okay, fine!” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice despite the noise around you. “But you do realize we’re talking about one of the world’s most famous idols right now?”

“And?” she shot back instantly.

“And that should end the conversation and the possibility of anything.”

Soojin didn’t answer immediately, which was worse. She always had something to say. “No,” she shook her head lightly. “That’s your excuse.”

You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Excuse? For what?”

“For not even trying.” 

Your jaw tightened just slightly. “That’s not–” you started, then stopped, fingers tightening around your glass. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple for me,” she said, softer now, but just as persistent. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re shutting something down before it even exists.”

You glanced away, eyes drifting back toward the head table where she had been sitting earlier, where everything looked natural. 

Because the fear of your feelings ruining this friendship again was something you didn’t want to see happen. Just the thought of it was more painful than actually being rejected. You had gone a decade without him, and now that you finally had him back in your life, you didn’t want to lose him again.

“He’s my best friend,” you said instead, the words coming out more firmly than you felt. “I’m not risking that.”

“And?” she asked after a moment.

“And,” you continued, voice lower now, “he has his life. I have mine.”

“That doesn’t mean–”

“It kind of does,” you cut in gently. “Be realistic for a second.”

Her brows furrowed. “I am being realistic.”

“No,” you shook your head, finally looking back at her. “You’re being romantic.”

“And you’re being pessimistic.”

“How?.”

“By being scared.”

You went quiet, because there wasn’t an immediate comeback for that. Soojin’s gaze softened just a little when you didn’t respond. “You still talk to him, don’t you?” she asked.

“...yeah.”

“How is it? When you do?”

You let out a small breath, looking down at your hands. “It’s normal,” you said after a second. “Like nothing changed.”

“And you don’t think that means anything?”

You gave a faint, almost tired smile. “It means we were friends for a long time.”

“Maybe that’s not all?” Soojin let out a breath, turning to fully face you sitting sideways on the chair. “You’re saying it’s not realistic because he’s an idol, and that might be true for fans, but you’re not a fan, Y/N. You’re already neck deep in his world.”

“If I cross that line,” you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, “there’s no going back.”

Soojin stayed quiet.

“So I’d rather just…” you trailed off, shrugging lightly. “Keep it like this.”

Her lips pressed together, like she didn’t quite agree but understood anyway. “And you’re okay with that?”

Your eyes flickered, almost unconsciously, back toward the front of the room. Toward her, her husband, the soft glow of something settled and certain before looking away again with a shrug. 

“I have to be.”

+

You woke up late.

Deliciously late. 

It was definitely later than intended, but not enough to make you feel guilty about it. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in dull winter light that made everything feel slower than usual. 

You stared at the ceiling for a moment, duvet pulled to your chin and trapping the comfortable warmth underneath, mind blank. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Your brain, traitor that it was, immediately started replaying yesterday.

Yoongi’s hand brushing against yours when he passed you the glass.

The way he had said, just stay over.

The way he always–

You groaned, dragging the blanket over your face. “Stop it,” you muttered. 

It didn’t mean anything, because it never did. Especially when it came from him. It’s just who he was and you’ve known that since you were ten. But still, it was your own fault not listening to the oldest rule in the friendship book, aka. falling for your own best friend. 

You dropped the blanket and stared at the ceiling again. “…annoying,” you sighed.

You stretched lazily, letting your arm fall back onto the bed as you debated getting up when your phone buzzed from the bedside table. 

Your brows furrowed slightly as you turned your head, reaching for your phone.

Jeonggukkie: are you alive?

You huffed a small laugh, already typing back.

You: barely

Three dots appeared immediately.

Jeonggukkie: dramatic did you eat

You stared at the message just as your stomach rumbled and the time finally made you realize it was actually 1PM already. 

You: Not yet

A small pause went by. 

Jeonggukkie: ok, i’m coming over

Your eyes widened slightly, fingers tapping furiously

You: why

Jeonggukkie: don’t argue 20 mins actually give me 30 

You blinked at the screen. “…This kid,” you muttered, but there was no real annoyance behind it.

You pushed yourself up with a sigh, stretching as your feet hit the floor. “Guess I have to be a functioning adult now,” you mumbled, dragging yourself toward the bathroom.

Twenty five minutes later there was a knock at your door. Jeongguk stood there, hood up, cap and mask on with two bags of food in his hands as well as takeaway coffee. You stepped aside quickly, pulling him in and shutting the door behind him like you were hiding a fugitive. “Did anyone see you?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did you check?”

He blinked. “Check what?”

“The street? The cameras? The neighbors?”

He just stared at you as you locked the door. “You’re stressed.”

“I am stressed,” you snapped, turning to face him. “I’m stressed for you. Why are you not stressed?”

“I’m stressed in appropriate situations” he said easily, slipping off his shoes. “Just not about this.”

“That’s worse.”

He laughed under his breath, holding up the bags. “I brought food. Rosé tteokbokki, mild flavored, and pork belly.”  

You still refused to give in, even though you were practically drooling at the smell wafting towards you now, until he held up the last bag of two coffees. 

“I also bought your favorite; vietnamese iced coffee.”

“Fine,” you gave in, pulling out a chair and dropping down opposite of him as he was already unpacking everything and grabbed two pairs of chopsticks from your drawer. 

Jeongguk shrugged off his jacket and mask, as he grinned knowingly at your weakness. 

“You always bring food when you’re committing crimes.”

“I’m not committing a crime.”

“You’re an internationally known idol sneaking into a civilian’s apartment unannounced,” you said, grabbing the first piece of meat and then tteok, humming content. “That feels illegal.”

He never stopped that grin, following you in grabbing some food and handing you the coffee after stirring it, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“You worry too much, noona.”

“I worry the exact right amount,” you shot back. “One blurry photo and your entire company will be breathing down your neck.”

“As if they dare.”

You turned to glare at him. “Confidence much?.”

“And you are way too paranoid.”

You opened your mouth – then paused. “Okay, maybe a little.”

He snorted. “A little?”

“Shut up, kid.”

Both of you ate mostly in silence, although you noticed him only taking a small bite here and then, letting you enjoy yourself while sipping on his own coffee. You were the one who had introduced the boys to the deliciousness that was Vietnamese iced coffee with condensed milk, and you would catch most of them drinking it now and then after practice, or whenever you met up with them for quick coffee catch-ups. 

Jeongguk leaned back slightly, watching you with quiet satisfaction. “You look less dead from the last time I saw you.”

“Wow. Thank you. What a way to make a woman feel better.”

“You’re welcome.”

You rolled your eyes, but your shoulders had already dropped. As you leaned back in your rickety little plastic chair you got on a sale on Coupang, you watched Jeongguk carefully. 

He did look wholly out of place in your little studio loft apartment that probably fit in his living room alone. But he still found it comfortable here in your space. Like an annoying little brother who had nowhere else to go, as if his six older members didn’t have large fancy homes of their own. 

He was just persistent when it came to you, and worried as if his schedule wasn’t a hundred times harder than your own minimum wage, mundane café jobs. 

Jeongguk noticed you stopped eating and stood up wordlessly to pack the remaining leftovers in a box for later, and started cleaning up everything as well as recycling, leaving you to relax and enjoy your coffee.

“I heard you went to hyung’s yesterday.”

What a smooth talker. “Hm, did Jimin snitch?”

He chuckled. “It was Taehyung hyung, actually.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing much. Just that you came by while they were eating.”

“Right…you’re being nosy.”

Jeongguk shrugged, drying his hands on the towel before sitting back down. “I have eyes. And nosy hyungs who update me on everything even when I’m not interested.”

“You and everyone else, I suppose.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, before turning serious again. “Why haven’t you told him yet?”

You flickered up a brow, pausing your sipping on the straw. “I told you that in confidence,” you said flatly. “Not to use as ammunition.”

Jeongguk ignored your dig. “You should tell him.”

You snorted immediately. “Yeah, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I enjoy my stressfree life?”

“That’s a lie.”

You leaned back. “Oh?”

“You’re miserable when you overthink, noona” he stated simply. “And you’ve been doing that a lot, so not as ‘stressfree’ as you think.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re very observant for someone who used to have a crush on me.”

“Used to,” he emphasized, as if the memory itself brought forward shudders. “And very briefly at that.”

It was fucking ironic, actually. You, sitting here discussing your current long-time crush on your best friend with one of his best friends that used to have his own crush on you. 

Jeongguk, despite his younger age, had been upfront about his feelings for you right before his military enlistment. Thankfully he hadn’t been too deep in to actually get heartbroken when you both gave it two dates before realizing friends fit you better. 

Not that anyone was aware of this. God, the chaos it would bring if they knew. 

“Mm.” The silence settled for a bit, as you forced yourself to relax before admitting. “It’s complicated.”

Jeongguk pursed his lips in thought. “Does it have to be?”

“It does with him.”

Jeongguk didn’t respond right away. “What if he likes you too?”

You let out a small laugh. “Not possible. He’s Min Yoongi. His love is his work.”

“Maybe a couple of years ago, but we’ve all matured since then.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to worry about it right now, Guk. Let’s not, okay.”

He wanted to protest, you saw it. But he respected you enough to not push so he nodded. 

“Okay, noona. Let’s just relax, how about a movie?”

You smiled thankfully. “Sounds good. You choose.”

And just as you were settled in the couch and the intro started playing, your phone buzzed with a text. 

Yoongs: What are you doing?

You typed a reply without much thought. 

You:  watching a movie with guk

You waited for a reply, but it never arrived. Not even after the movie had ended and Jeongguk had left.

+

A couple of days go by before you find yourself looking for him again. But this time it’s at HYBE. 

You always feel like a nervous wreck stepping inside the intimidating glass building, your stomach fluttering with worries that probably won’t happen. 

Like the security dragging you out on suspicions for being a stalker fan, for example. 

God, your brain went haywire sometimes. 

You follow the protocols carefully; stepping up to the reception desk as they register your already known name, printing the guest tag and band for you to wear around your neck with a polite smile. 

There were so many people walking in and out of this building on a daily, that most employees didn’t blink when you arrived. For them you could be anyone. From a visiting stylist to a dancer, or even business partner. As long as your name was in the system, it meant you had already passed all security checks and approved for visits whenever. 

This time you felt slightly more confident, tapping yourself through the gate and waiting for the lift surrounded by strangers and not fidgeting too much. Your destination was one of the higher floors; dedicated to the Big Hit creative team, and where Yoongi’s studio was located. 

You were the only one still in the lift by the time it was your turn to get off, and when you arrived at the closed door of his studio you stared at the keypad for a second longer than necessary. The code still worked a moment later, of course it did, before you pushed the door open and the familiar quiet of Yoongi’s place greeted you immediately.

It was darker than usual, but he was there. On the large, comfortable office chair in front of his desk with four screens, a microphone and more speakers than you could identify. 

Despite being half-inside the room already, you knocked lightly anyway.

“Yoongs?”

The studio smelled faintly like decaf and something warmer, perhaps tea. He had reached a stage of only decaf these last few years, which honestly hurt your coffee-loving soul more than anything. The glow of his monitors lit up his face in soft blues and purples, shadows resting under his eyes but nothing you hadn’t seen before. 

His black hair was also long again, with bangs framing his now slimmer face from when he first got out of the military. 

Yoongi didn’t turn right away, just lifted a hand briefly in acknowledgment.

You hovered for a second before lifting the bag slightly. “I brought food.”

That got his attention. He turned his chair halfway, eyes flickering down to the bag before settling on you. “What is it?”

You held it up like an offering. “Don’t act like you’re not going to eat it.”

A faint huff left him, something just short of a laugh. “Did I say that?”

“You were about to.” You walked over to the low table by the L-shaped couch against the wall, taking out the containers and drinks, already moving like you’ve done it a hundred times. Because, honestly, you had. “Or something along the lines of not being hungry.”

Standing back up with your hands on your hips, you turned to face him again with a pointed look. “You haven’t eaten yet, right?”

“Not yet,” Yoongi confirmed, never seeing the point of lying to you when you already knew him so well. 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Shocking.”

You handed him a pair of chopsticks before taking the seat on the small couch tucked against the wall. He swiveled his chair slightly, accepting them without a word.

You had cooked an average pesto pasta with marinated chicken strips. Nothing fancy, and definitely easier to buy as delivery. But a part of you still remembered when Yoongi complimented your cooking during one of the rare times you had made it for him, and he said it tasted better than the ones at restaurants. 

You were annoyed how vivid that simple comment still stayed with you. 

You watched him, but not obviously. And never long enough to get caught. 

Just…small enough glances to feel satisfied. 

The way his hair fell slightly into his eyes when he leaned forward. The way his fingers moved without thinking, precise and practiced, even when he was just picking at food with the chopsticks. How fine and elegant his hands looked.  

He looked a little tired, you noted. Not surprising, with how much they were all still fine-tuning the new album. 

Something in your chest tugged at the sight. 

“Did you sleep at all?” You asked after a couple of bites. 

He hummed. “A little.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

He just shrugged and instead took a bite, knowing you weren’t one to stop him from eating. 

You leaned back into the couch, exhaling softly. “You’re going to burn out again.”

It slipped out before you could stop it. His hand paused mid-air for a fraction of a second, then continued.

“I won’t,” He assured you, sounding calm and confident and you did believe him. But a part of you was always worried. 

“You always say that.”

“And I’m still here.”

You tilted your head slightly, watching him. “I guess.”

Suddenly there was a knock against the door, and you remained seated watching as he stood up and opened the door to grab whatever the person on the other side handed to him before it closed again. 

Yoongi handed it to you, as you pulled out a large sized cup of Vietnamese iced coffee from your favorite coffee shop chain, and felt your heart swell. 

“I ordered when you said you were on the way up.”

You smiled faintly into your drink, savoring the taste. “Thanks.”

Your gaze drifted back to him. To the way he had already turned back toward his screen, attention slipped back into his work like nothing else existed.

You knew that look. You've seen it since you were kids.

Back when it was notebooks and scribbles instead of full studios and polished tracks. When you sat next to him on a rooftop, pretending you weren’t watching him as closely as you were.

And somehow nearly fifteen years later, you found yourself still watching. 

“Play it.” The words left your mouth before you could overthink them.

He didn’t turn. “Play what.”

“Whatever you’re working on.”

“It’s not finished.”

“When have I ever cared?”

You could almost hear the hesitation as he scrolled through a couple of files, almost thinking which one to choose before a sound filled the studio. 

♫Twenty-four hours in the tubTwenty-four hours of your thoughtZ-z-z, don't wake me up꿈이면 깨기 싫어, 내.”

FantasyIt's a fantasy (Ayy, you next to me)It's a fantasy (Oh)You're my fantasy (Take that) ♫

The damn irony of those lyrics, you wanted to scoff to yourself. 

“It’s good.” Your voice came out softer than intended, perhaps softer than needed for the poppiness of the song that had filled the studio. 

His eyes flickered toward you, just enough that you noticed. And for a second it felt like he was waiting for something else. Instead he huffed lightly. “That’s it?”

You smiled a little. “Do you want me to lie and say it’s bad?”

“No.”

“Then it’s good.” You pulled your legs up on the couch, tucking them underneath you. 

He didn’t respond, but you saw it. The smallest shift in his shoulders and the way his posture relaxed just slightly, as if you had confirmed something for him. You couldn’t fathom why he cared that much for your opinion. Your musical understanding was minimal at best. 

“You always say that,” he muttered. 

“Because it’s always true.”

You looked away first, distracting yourself on your phone. Because if you didn’t, you might keep staring.

And if you kept staring…You honestly didn’t want to think about that.

Your fingers tightened slightly around your cup instead, wanting to say more. You always did, but the words stayed where they were. Always caught somewhere frustratingly uncomfortable between your chest and your throat.

+

Fuck. He genuinely forgot how tiring concert and comeback prep used to be. 

Spending months in LA creating songs was a different mental tiredness he could handle better. But the physicality of things? At damn age when it feels like his knees would crack by the slightest bend? Someone give him a break, please. 

Luckily he wasn’t the only one who thought so. All of them were struggling more than normal, besides Seokjin and Hoseok, who had been doing their own things for a while now and gotten used to the rush again. 

Him and the others though? What a mess. 

Jimin and Taehyung would giggle every five minutes at their attempts of coordinating, while Jeongguk would be the one to try and pick a fight just for the fun of it. Namjoon tried his best, laughing along and whining whenever a member teased his dancing, which had actually improved rather than gotten worse. 

The guys had even been impressed with the muscle mass he had put on in the last couple of months since returning to Korea. With nothing to do with his time besides finishing up the album, he had decided that starting to hit the gym more seriously was a good idea. 

Still, he had managed to switch out one mental stress for another. From album concerns to his own personal life now beating the fuck out of him whenever he thought of a person. 

Yoongi was already exhausted by the time he stepped out of the practice studio for a quick pick-me-up. All he wanted was ten minutes of silence and maybe another decaf coffee he absolutely did not need, but could pretend would help him with his exhaustion. 

The placebo effect was real, he was convinced. 

But instead, he heard your very familiar laugh echoing down the hallway. A voice that shouldn’t be in this building at the moment, to his knowledge. 

His steps slowed automatically when he rounded the corner. Jeongguk was leaning against the wall beside you, phone in hand while showing you something on the screen. You stood close enough that your shoulder kept bumping his arm every time you laughed.

“No, wait—play that again,” you said through laughter.

“I’m telling you, hyung looked ridiculous.”

“Jeongguk!!”

“What?” He grinned unapologetically before replaying the video anyway.

Yoongi recognized it immediately, to his chagrin. A behind-the-scenes clip from years ago where he had nearly fallen asleep during an interview, of his eyes dropping in real-time and becoming a meme in the fandom and their groupchat. 

Traitor.

You dissolved into laughter again, instinctively grabbing Jungkook’s sleeve for balance. And something inside Yoongi twisted unpleasantly. Which was somehow worse when Jeongguk was the first one to notice him there, of course the damn kid did. 

His grin shifted instantly into something more suspicious, which Yoongi did not like.

“Yoongi-hyung.” He straightened casually. “You done already?”

Your head turned immediately, your face lighting up the second you saw him. “There you are.”

Again, that dangerous little sense of relief settled in his chest at your expression. Yoongi shoved his hands into his pockets. “What are you two doing?”

“Bullying you, apparently,” you answered easily.

Jungkook snorted. “She started it.”

“You literally showed me the video!”

“And you enjoyed it.”

“I did.”

Yoongi couldn’t help watching the way Jungkook looked at you when you spoke. The stupid word of Jimin and Taehyung replaying around in his mind of his apparent crush on you. 

It was clearly comfortable and playful, perhaps even too comfortable if he could add. 

Then Jungkook casually threw an arm over your shoulders, clearly a thoughtless action that he had done several times before. But Yoongi’s jaw tightened instantly.

You, completely oblivious, kept talking like nothing happened. “…and then he got mad at me for laughing,” you continued.

“I did not get mad.”

“You glared at me for like three hours.”

“Because you wouldn’t stop laughing.”

Jungkook looked between the two of you briefly before a slow grin appeared on his face. “Wow.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing.” His grin widened. “You guys are seriously weird.”

If Yoongi hadn’t paid as much attention as he did, he wouldn’t have noticed the slightly sharp nudge you gave into Jeongguk's side as he flinched slightly away. 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes slightly. Jungkook only looked more entertained. “I thought you were at work?” 

“In an hour, it’s just around the corner so I’d thought to stop by and cheer you all on,” you shrugged. 

“You should come eat with us first,” the brat offered. 

Before you could answer, Yoongi spoke. “She’s busy.”

Both of you looked at him. Including Yoongi himself, internally, while Jeongguk’s eyebrows lifted slowly.

You frowned. “Am I?”

“You promised to help me with something before, remember?” The lie came easily.

“Oh yeah! I remember now.”

For a second nobody spoke. Then Jeongguk looked like he was physically restraining himself from laughing. “Right,” he said carefully. “Of course she did.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, but knowingly while Yoongi avoided looking directly at either of you. You had known each other long enough for you to pick up on his excuse and play along. 

And suddenly Jungkook looked way too entertained for Yoongi’s liking.

+

The last employee finally waved goodbye before disappearing down the street, leaving you alone with the familiar task of locking up. You exhaled tiredly, turning the key as you rolled your tight shoulders before tugging lightly on the café door to make sure it was secure. 

Your shoulders ached from the long shift, feet even worse, and all you could think about was getting home and collapsing face-first into bed, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness of your stomach.

The low rumble of an engine made you glance up, and a familiar black, gleaming car sat by the curb. You slowed down immediately with a sigh, but the affectionate smile was hard to hide. 

And then the driver’s window rolled down. Yoongi looked at you from behind the wheel, one arm resting lazily near the window. “You done?”

“What are you doing?”

“Picking you up, obviously.”

You gave him a pointed look. “And I told you to stop doing that.”

“You said your shift ended late.” That explained absolutely nothing. Still, warmth spread embarrassingly fast through your chest as you crossed the little space toward him.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” 

Which somehow made this entire situation worse for your stupid heart.

You slid into the passenger seat, immediately greeted by warmth and the faint scent of clean laundry mixed with his cologne. Familiar enough now that your body relaxed before your brain caught up.

“You look tired,” he said once you buckled in. 

“Yeah, feel like shit.” You had never been dishonest to him about your work. 

The car pulled smoothly back onto the mostly empty road at this time, only a handful of cars whizzing past. For a while, silence filled the space between you comfortably. The radio played quietly in the background while Seoul’s lights blurred outside the windows.

Then Yoongi glanced at you briefly. “Did you eat?”

You looked out the window immediately. “Maybe.”

“That means no.”

“I was busy.”

“You’re always busy.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, and you yell at me for it.”

“Well obviously.” You frowned slightly. “Somebody has to.”

Yoongi hummed quietly, like he found that amusing. A few minutes later, however, you realized the roads looked wrong.

You frowned. “Yoongs.”

“Hm?”

“This isn’t the way to my apartment.”

“I know.”

You turned toward him slowly. “Min Yoongi.”

“You’re eating first.”

“I can eat at home.”

“You won’t.” Annoyingly enough, he sounded completely certain.

“You’re very bossy today.”

“And you’re very stubborn.”

“You say that like it’s new.”

A small smile tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth before disappearing again.

God. That stupid smile really needed to stop affecting you. And he needed to stop being so easy to love. 

“You can sit down,” he called. “I’ll make you something to eat, it won’t take long.”

“I know where your couch is, Yoongi.”

“Just making sure you don’t collapse halfway there.”

“You’re hilarious.”

He smirked. “Go take a shower, you know where the clothes are.”

You sank into the couch with a quiet groan, letting your head fall back briefly before muttering. “I need to wait for a bit. Can’t be bothered to move right now.”

You heard cupboards opening before Yoongi reappeared carrying two bowls, setting one in front of you on the coffee table. Ramyeon with extra green onions and two eggs, exactly how you liked it.

Your chest squeezed slightly, and he must have noticed your expression. 

Yoongi looked at you like the answer should’ve been obvious. “You complain when people make it wrong.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.” 

“Fine.”

A quiet huff of amusement left him as he sat beside you, knees touching yours as you both ate. For a while, the only sounds were the television playing softly in the background and the clinking of chopsticks against bowls before you sighed dramatically. 

“What.”

“You know, I never told you Soojin’s wedding exhausted me emotionally.”

Yoongi glanced over. “How so?”

You slumped further into the couch. “Do you know how terrifying married people are?”

“That sounds judgmental.”

“They become obsessed with everyone else dating.”

His mouth twitched slightly. “Ah.”

“She tried setting me up with like three different men.”

Yoongi’s chopsticks paused briefly before continuing. “And?”

“And what?”

“Did you want her to?”

You blinked at him. “Not particularly.”

“Why not, I thought you said having someone would be nice.”

You shrugged lightly, staring down into your empty bowl. “I don’t know. I’m busy with life. I’m still paying down on my student debt, my monthly rent is going up in a bit and job applications are going nowhere.”

“You could if you wanted to.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m just asking.” Something about his tone felt strange to you, almost like an interrogation rather than his usual amused interest. 

“Yeah apparently so. She kept insisting I’m ‘too pretty to be single,’” you muttered with a grimace.

Yoongi looked at you then, and your stomach tightened slightly under the weight of it. “Well, she’s right.”

You were fucking certain you were blushing like a damn tomato, but the dim lighting in the room hid most of it. You hoped so at least. 

Were your hands clammy? They certainly felt like it. 

You stared at him for half a second too long before forcing out an awkward laugh. “Wow. Look at you being nice.”

“I’m serious, though.”

His voice stayed frustratingly steady, and suddenly the air between you felt different again. He was still looking at you, dark eyes looking more intense than you had seen him besides when working on music or on the stage in front of fans. 

Your heartbeat started climbing for absolutely no reason. So naturally, your brain panicked. “You know, one of them owned like…three cats.”

Tangie meowed just then from the top of one his cat towers in the room, as if knowing. Yoongi blinked once, clearly caught off guard by the abrupt subject change. “What?”

“At least that’s what Soojin said. Honestly that should’ve been her opening line.”

A quiet laugh escaped him then. And God, you loved that sound more than you should.

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured almost knowingly. 

Your eyes lifted toward his automatically, and this time neither of you looked away. The moment should’ve lasted a second like it always did. The two of you making eyecontact was nothing strange. But it didn’t.

he television kept talking softly in the background. Somewhere in the apartment, a pipe clicked faintly with the heat, Tangie’s claw were gently scraping against his post. 

And Yoongi’s gaze dropped, just slightly. But enough to send your heart stuttering.

It was small. Barely there. So quick you almost convinced yourself you imagined it

Your throat went dry. “What?” you asked, quieter than before.

Yoongi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back into the couch, dragging a hand through his hair like he was physically resetting himself. “Nothing.”

What a fucking lie, you both knew it. 

Still, you nodded slowly, because that was easier than acknowledging what your body was suddenly doing. How aware you were of his knee still touching yours, of how close he actually was, of the fact that you could smell him even over the food.

Besides the entirely strange moment that just happened between you, you knew something was bothering him otherwise. And if you didn’t ask him, you doubted any of the others would. 

Your fingers tightened slightly in your lap. “Yoongs, what’s been bothering you?” you said carefully, like saying his name wrong might break something.

He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh—but there was no humor in it. “Please don’t.”

You blinked. “Don’t what?”

He shook his head once, like he was annoyed at himself more than you. “Forget it.”

He started to stand, hands ready to take the bowls towards the kitchen. And that should’ve been the end of it, but your hand moved before your brain caught up as you caught his sleeve.

Yoongi froze. His gaze flicked down briefly to where your hand still held his sleeve and you let go immediately. However, that didn’t stop you from following him stiff form into the kitchen. 

“Why won’t you answer?” Your voice followed him before your feet fully caught up.

Yoongi stopped near the sink and didn't turn around immediately. The bowls were still in his hands, but he didn’t set them down either. 

For a second, all you could hear was the faint running of the refrigerator and the distant hum of the city outside the window. “Because you’re not going to like it.”

That made you pause as you scoffed, leaning back against the counter behind you and crossing your arms. “Try me, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi finally set the bowls down with more care than necessary and when he turned, it was slower than before. His eyes found yours instantly and stayed there as you swallowed. 

“You always do this,” he said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Push.”

Your brows knitted slightly, annoyance crawling underneath your skin. “I’m asking a question, Yoongi.”

“I know.” His voice softened, but carefully. Like he was holding something at the edge of slipping.

“Then answer it.”

Silence stretched again; long enough that your chest started tightening in a way you didn’t like. What was he keeping from you? Had something happened? About the album or upcoming tour? Something more internal, perhaps. 

A…girlfriend?

Fuck, just the thought of it made something in you want to break but you kept it all together. 

Then Yoongi exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, and when he looked at you again, something had changed. Resignation, you realized. He was done holding back whatever had been bothering him. 

“You don’t notice it,” he said, and you held back from replying. His gaze flickered briefly down, then back up. “Never mind.”

Your frustration sharpened. “Don’t do that. Start saying things and then stop halfway.”

That made something in his expression shift. “You really want me to finish it?” he asked.

Your heart stuttered, but you nodded anyway. “Of course I fucking do, Yoongi. When have I never listened to you?”

A long silence, then Yoongi finally stepped closer. Just enough that now there was no pretending this was casual anymore.

“I don’t like watching you with other people.”

Your breath caught—but you didn’t interrupt. Because something in you already knew that wasn’t the full sentence.

His voice dropped lower. “And I don’t like how easily you laugh with them, and how I notice it.”

The room went still as your stomach twisted. Your voice came out smaller than you meant. “…Yoongi.”

He didn’t look away and barely moved. Just stayed there, like he’d already crossed a line he couldn’t step back from. 

“I don’t know how to stop noticing you, Y/N.”

It was like your brain went dry, and very, very quiet. Your heartbeat hammering in your ears, the only thing you saw was him. Your hands were trembling too, gripping your clothes as you simply tried to take it all in. 

Every time he picked you up when you didn’t ask. Every time he asked if you ate like it mattered more than it should. Every time his eyes lingered just a second too long when you laughed at someone else. Every time he went quiet after Jungkook put an arm around you like it physically cost him something not to say anything.

It all snapped into place at once, the dumb realization of it. And how your own worries had been nothing at this point. You had worried for nothing. 

And you felt so incredibly dumb. 

Your chest tightened, like something inside you had been holding its breath for too long and finally let go.

In the turmoil of it all, Yoongi was still watching you carefully. As if he was waiting for rejection. “…say something,” he said quietly.

That almost made you smile as you stepped closer. His eyes flickered down to you the moment the space between you changed, but he didn’t move and chose to let you control the pacing. 

Your hand came up first, gripping the front of his shirt as Yoongi’s breath caught slightly at the contact. That was a new reaction you only just noticed. 

You’d never seen him react like that before; like he was the one who might lose control. You loved it. 

Your voice came out softer, but surprisingly steady for everything happening inside. “Unbelieveable.”

That was the moment everything inside you shifted from shock into certainty.Because Min Yoongi, calm, composed, unreadable Yoongi, was standing in front of you right now like you were the only thing he couldn’t control.

And you had never wanted anything more.

His brows pulled faintly together. “What is?”

You didn’t even bother to answer, just pulled him down to your height. 

Yoongi froze for half a heartbeat before he gave in. 

The kiss wasn’t near anything soft and careful. His hand found your waist immediately, steadying you like instinct finally caught up with intention. The tension he’d been holding all night snapped, something long overdue.

Your fingers slid up into his shirt as if you needed something real to hold onto while your brain caught up with the fact that this was happening—this was him—this was the thing you’d been orbiting without naming for years.

His mouth was relentless on yours, moving gently but urgently at the same time as you hummed into the kiss, his tongue caressing yours as you stumbled back into the counter behind you. 

Yoongi groaned softly against your mouth, hands coming up to cup your face, fingers curling into your hair deliciously as you sighed. 

When you finally broke it, it was only because you had to breathe. Yoongi stayed close, refusing to move as his forehead rested against yours, breathing heavier than before, like he didn’t trust air to behave normally anymore.

The second kiss lingered longer than the first. Your heart was still catching up, beating unevenly in a way you were very aware of.

“So,” you said eventually, voice softer than you meant it to be, “this is happening.”

A faint breath left him, almost a laugh again, but warmer now. “Yeah,” he said simply.

You tilted your head slightly, just enough to look at him properly, unguarded and sparkling. “And what now?” you asked.

His thumb moved once against your back—slow, grounding, like he was thinking with his body more than his words. “I certainly hope this meant you’re willing to become my girlfriend.”

You bit down on your lip, containing the grin wanting to stretch and he noticed it with a shy smile, ducking down to kiss the tip of your nose. “Stop it.”

“I thought you’d never ask, Min Yoongi.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yes,” you giggled before tightening your hold around his waist, chin resting against his collarbones as your face tilted up. “But you love it.”

His gaze softened visibly, tucking a loose strand behind your ear as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “I do.”

+

That night, Seoul was at its coldest. Light rain had been falling since the afternoon, making the apartment air feel cool and cozy. You had already showered, wearing one of Yoongi’s oversized shirts that somehow had been staying in your closet more often than in his own lately. Your hair was still a little damp when you climbed onto the sofa carrying a thin blanket and a glass of iced americano with almost-melted ice.

The TV had actually been playing a drama for a while, but you weren’t really watching it. Your focus was only on mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Your FYP that night was completely random—people reviewing spicy food, Jungkook gym edits, videos of angry cats getting bathed.

Until suddenly…

A concert video.

The lights were insanely bright. Fans screaming loud enough to burst your ears even through your phone speaker.

And in the middle of the screen—

Yoongi.

You automatically stopped scrolling.

His hair was soaked with sweat, his breathing still visibly heavy after performing. He was wearing a thin white tank top underneath and a black outer jacket that had already fallen halfway open. His face was red from the heat and exhaustion, but he still looked absurdly handsome in the most annoying way possible.

The caption said:

“HE ACCIDENTALLY TOOK OFF EVERYTHING 😭”

Your eyebrow instantly lifted.

“Hah?”

The video kept playing.

Yoongi was seen pulling off his jacket from behind his neck, probably because he was hot. But somehow, the inner shirt got dragged up with it.

And a split second later—

The entire venue literally exploded.

“KYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAA—”

The fans’ screams cracked from how loud they were.

The camera recording immediately shook violently. Someone dropped their phone downward. Someone else only recorded the venue ceiling because they got too hysterical.

Meanwhile Yoongi…

His expression was priceless.

He instantly stopped moving, blankly staring for one second like his brain was buffering, then quickly pulled his shirt back down while laughing shyly.

You immediately covered your mouth.

Then burst out laughing alone in the living room.

“OH MY GOD.”

Replay.

Replay again.

And the more you replayed it, the funnier it got because he genuinely looked like it was completely accidental. Even the member next to him turned around with a shocked-but-laughing expression.

The next TikTok appeared from another angle.

One zoomed in on Yoongi’s face.

One was in slow motion.

One used dramatic Titanic music.

Another one had the caption:

“Mexico survived earthquakes but not this.”

You practically collapsed against the sofa laughing.

“Poor him…”

But you still replayed it again.

Honestly, it wasn’t just funny.

Yoongi looked way too good there.

That white tank top clung to him because of the sweat. His arms were full of veins after performing. His black hair fell slightly onto his forehead. And his embarrassed, panicked expression somehow made everyone lose their minds even more.

Your phone even started constantly buzzing.

The BTS group chat instantly became chaotic.

Jimin: hyung trending 😭😭😭

Hoseok: I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAKE OFF YOUR JACKET ON STAGE

Jungkook: Mexico will never move on

Namjoon: internet is gone

You laughed again while screenshotting several videos.

Then without thinking, you opened Yoongi’s chat.

For a few seconds you were still smiling to yourself before finally typing.

You: [5 screenshots] Congratulations

Typing…

Typing stopped.

Typing again.

Yoongi: I want to disappear

You immediately laughed again.

You: No seriously 😭 This is so funny

Yoongi: I just wanted to take off my jacket

You: And accidentally took off your dignity too

Read.

No reply for a few seconds.

Then—

Yoongi: You’re enjoying this way too much huh

You: Very much

Yoongi: Mean

You: An entire stadium screamed like they got jumpscared

Yoongi: I was shocked too

You: Your face was so funny 😭😭😭

You replayed the video again while grinning to yourself.

Especially the part where Yoongi immediately pulled his shirt back down with an expression like “what the hell just happened?”

You even zoomed in on a certain screenshot.

Oh.

Oh no.

His arms were insane though.

Without realizing it, you took another screenshot.

You: Btw are your arms even legal?

Yoongi took longer to reply this time.

Maybe he was showering. Maybe eating. Or maybe regretting his life because the entire internet was now filled with fancams of him.

Finally the chat bubble appeared again.

Yoongi: Are you thirst tweeting now too?

You: I’m a victim of the timeline

Yoongi: Delete TikTok

You: Can’t The entertainment tonight is too good

Yoongi: I’m tired

You: But handsome

Read.

No reply for about a minute.

Then suddenly your phone screen showed an incoming video call.

You instantly laughed before answering.

The moment it connected, Yoongi’s face immediately filled the screen.

His hair was still slightly wet after showering. He was now wearing a loose black shirt with the collar hanging lower on one side. His skin was still slightly flushed from the concert and hot shower. He sat leaning against the hotel sofa while staring at you with a tired face.

“Just keep laughing.”

The second you heard his raspy post-performance voice, you laughed even harder.

“Sorry—really sorry but this is genuinely funny…”

Yoongi closed his eyes briefly while letting out a long sigh.

“I opened my phone and it was pure chaos.”

“Well that’s your fault.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“You know people are saying Mexico lost their minds tonight?”

“I want to uninstall the internet.”

You were still smiling widely while staring at the screen.

And damn it, the more you looked at him now, the more you kept thinking about him earlier on stage.

Sweaty. Heavy breathing. Tense arms.

God.

Yoongi watched your face for a few seconds.

Then the corner of his lips lifted slightly.

“Oh.”

“What oh.”

“So you were freaking out too apparently.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I was just surprised.”

“How many times did you replay it?”

You instantly went silent.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Exactly.”

“…a few.”

“How many is a few?”

“Well… several.”

“You took screenshots too.”

Your eyes widened immediately.

“How do you know?!”

“I can tell from your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“You look guilty.”

You let out a small huff while leaning back against the sofa again.

Yoongi watched you with a faint smile. Even exhausted like that, he still had energy to tease you.

“You seriously…” you muttered quietly.

“What?”

“You made an entire country hysterical.”

“One country is exaggerating.”

“No it’s not. Their screaming was terrifying.”

Yoongi just laughed softly.

And oh my god, that soft laugh.

You hated how easily he made your heart feel weird just from his voice alone.

“You need to see the edits now,” you said while reopening TikTok. “Someone already made a slow motion version.”

“Don’t show me.”

“Too late.”

You played one video.

The second the hysterical fan screams blasted from your phone, Yoongi immediately covered his face with one hand.

“OH MY GOD.”

You burst out laughing again.

“Your expression is so funny!”

“I’m genuinely embarrassed.”

“It’s rare seeing you this embarrassed.”

“Because it wasn’t intentional.”

“You literally buffered on stage.”

“I panicked.”

“It showed.”

Yoongi sighed deeply while sinking further into the hotel sofa.

His shirt shifted slightly higher around the sleeves.

And you… unconsciously glanced again.

Yoongi noticed.

Very noticed.

“What are you doing?”

“Hm?”

“You keep staring.”

“I’m not.”

“You think I don’t know?”

You instantly got flustered.

“Fine, maybe a little.”

“You said it was funny.”

“It is funny.”

“So what is it now?”

You bit your lip briefly before quietly answering,

“…handsome too.”

Yoongi went silent for a few seconds.

Then he smiled very slightly.

A thin smile.

The kind that made your heart melt because he genuinely looked happy hearing it.

“You make me feel confident so easily.”

“Hey don’t get too confident.”

“Why?”

“Or you’ll intentionally take your shirt off at concerts.”

He immediately laughed.

“I’m not that bad.”

“You sure?”

“You’ve already seen it plenty of times too.”

And like someone pressed pause—

You instantly froze.

“…what?”

Yoongi casually leaned back while looking at you.

“Why are you pretending to be shocked now?”

“MIN YOONGI.”

“What?”

“That’s a different context.”

“What’s the difference?”

“AN ENTIRE STADIUM SAW THIS.”

“But who sees it the most often?”

Your cheeks instantly heated up.

“That’s not the point—”

“You literally sleep hugging me every night.”

“STOP.”

“And now you’re embarrassed?”

You immediately covered your face with a sofa pillow while groaning in embarrassment.

Yoongi just laughed victoriously from the other side.

“Finally embarrassed too.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You started it earlier.”

“But now you’re doing it on purpose!”

“Hm.”

“What do you mean hm.”

“It’s cute seeing you flustered.”

You peeked from behind the pillow.

Yoongi was still smiling faintly while watching you. His face looked far more relaxed now compared to the beginning of the call.

And strangely enough, you really loved being the reason he relaxed after a long concert like this.

“You’re really tired huh?” you finally asked, your voice softer.

Yoongi nodded slightly.

“A little.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah.”

“Drink water?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Yoongi.”

He laughed softly again.

“I drank.”

You watched his face for a few seconds.

His eyes were slightly red from exhaustion. His voice sounded heavier too. But he still called you just because you teased him about that stupid wardrobe malfunction earlier.

Your chest warmed on its own.

“You should sleep later,” you said quietly.

“Later.”

“Don’t keep saying later.”

He looked at you for a moment.

Then quietly said,

“I miss you.”

Your expression instantly softened.

“…it’s only been a week.”

“Long.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Yeah.”

You smiled faintly.

And for a few seconds, you just stared at each other through the screen, both exhausted but comfortable.

Until Yoongi finally spoke again casually,

“But seriously.”

“Hm?”

“You were more excited than the Mexico fans.”

You instantly glared.

“Because that’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh so you were jealous?”

“A little.”

“Aigoo…”

“What do you mean aigoo.”

“You’re cute.”

“Not cute.”

“You’re jealous over an accidental shirt slip.”

“It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

“Because it is funny.”

You huffed in embarrassment.

And Yoongi, who had looked half-dead exhausted this whole time, just smiled even softer while quietly saying,

“The one who sees the most is still you anyway.”

You immediately collapsed backward onto the sofa while covering your face.

“OH MY GOD MIN YOONGI.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You were still lying flat on the sofa with your face covered by a pillow, while Yoongi’s soft laughter kept coming from your phone speaker.

Satisfied laughter. The kind of laughter from someone who realized he had successfully made his girlfriend malfunction.

“Get up.”

“No.”

“Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because you said it like that!”

“But it’s true.”

You lowered the pillow slightly, glaring at the screen.

“Yoongi.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t flirt when your face still looks like this after a concert.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Why?”

“Dangerous.”

That smile immediately appeared again. Small, crooked, annoying.

“I’m literally just sitting here.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.”

Yoongi laughed softly while resting his head against the hotel sofa. The dim room lighting made the lines of his face look even sharper. His black hair was still slightly damp and falling over his forehead in a way that looked way too good for someone claiming to be exhausted.

And the thing making your heart race the most— He looked so comfortable right now. Relaxed. Soft. But his eyes hadn’t left you this entire time.

“You seriously…” you muttered quietly while avoiding his gaze, “you just caused internet chaos and still have time to tease me.”

“Because I miss you.”

His answer came too fast. Too honest. Your heart instantly skipped weirdly.

“You usually get clingy when you’re tired,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“And?”

“And right now I can’t hug you.”

Yoongi went quiet for a moment.

His expression immediately softened a little more.

“I know.”

The atmosphere suddenly became calmer.

You were already used to tour schedules. Used to video calls from different countries. Used to falling asleep on call until one of you passed out first.

But somehow this time felt different.

Maybe because Yoongi’s schedule was too packed. Maybe because you had gotten too used to being close before he left. Or maybe because right now he was looking at you like that while seeming like he really wanted to come home.

“You know,” he suddenly said, his voice low and raspy, “right after the concert, the first thing I did was check my phone for your message.”

You instantly looked back at the screen.

“Seriously?”

“Hm.”

“Why?”

“I already knew you’d make fun of me.”

You laughed softly.

“And you still looked for it.”

“Because I missed you.”

God. You genuinely couldn’t handle it when he suddenly got soft like this. Especially when he followed it up with a tiny smile while secretly staring at you.

“Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

“You make it hard to sleep.”

“I haven’t even started yet.”

You instantly froze.

“What do you mean you haven’t started?”

He casually shrugged a little.

“You said I was flirting earlier.”

“And?”

“But I was just acting normal.”

Your cheeks instantly heated up again.

“Okay then don’t start.”

“What if I do?”

“MIN YOONGI.”

He laughed softly again. Not loudly, but low enough to make your stomach feel weird. Then he moved slightly closer to the camera. And god. That was a terrible mistake.

Because now his face completely filled your phone screen.

“You know what the funniest part earlier was?” he asked quietly.

“What?”

“You got possessive immediately.”

“I was not possessive.”

“You literally said ‘that’s my boyfriend.’”

“Well he is.”

“And then you got jealous.”

“A little.”

“You really like me huh.”

You instantly glared in embarrassment.

“Overconfident.”

“But it's true.”

You let out a long sigh while covering half your face with the blanket. Yoongi watched you with a faint smile.

“Cute.”

“Don’t call me cute.”

“Why?”

“It just makes me more annoyed.”

“But you’re smiling.”

You reflexively touched your lips.

Damn it.

He was right.

Yoongi instantly looked satisfied.

“I know your expressions by heart.”

“You don’t need to know them by heart.”

“Too late.”

A few seconds later the atmosphere became quiet again. You could hear the hotel AC from his side. Occasionally there were distant sounds from the hallway, but other than that there was only the sound of your breathing.

Yoongi looked really exhausted now. His eyes were half-lidded. His loose black shirt slipped slightly off his shoulder when he moved. And unfortunately it made you remember the earlier video again.

Yoongi noticed again. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re spacing out.”

“I just remembered earlier.”

“Which earlier?”

“You know which one.”

He smiled faintly.

“Oh. The Mexico incident.”

“Don’t call it an incident like it’s a scandal.”

“It felt like one.”

“The internet literally lost its mind.”

“You did too.”

You sighed softly.

“Well how was I supposed to react…”

“Hm?”

“You earlier were…”

You stopped yourself.

Yoongi waited.

And somehow that was worse than if he pushed you.

Because he just quietly stared at you, making you even more nervous.

“What?” he asked again softly.

“…hot.”

Yoongi immediately tried to hold back a smile.

“Oh?”

“Don’t get too confident yet.”

“But you called me hot.”

“You are hot.”

He finally let out a small laugh.

“Wow.”

“You’re not fair.”

“Why?”

“You know exactly what your post-concert face does to people.”

“What does it do?”

“Yoongi.”

“Answer first.”

You covered your face again.

Which only amused him more.

“Aigoo…”

“Stop laughing.”

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“And you’re so evil when you miss me.”

Yoongi went quiet for a moment.

Then with a lower, softer voice—

“I really do miss you badly right now.”

Your heart instantly dropped. The way he said things like that was always dangerous. Not excessive. Not dramatic. But because his tone stayed calm, it somehow felt more real.

“When are you coming home?” you asked softly.

“Still a few more weeks.”

You instantly pouted.

“That’s too long.”

“Hm.”

“I hate long distance.”

“Me too.”

Yoongi slowly rubbed his face before looking at you again.

“That’s why when I get home later, don’t complain.”

“Why do I suddenly feel nervous?”

“You’re the one who called me hot earlier.”

“I REGRET SAYING THAT.”

He laughed again.

“You can’t take it back.”

“Yes I can.”

“No you can’t.”

“You’re annoying.”

“But you miss me.”

You stayed quiet. Because he was right. And Yoongi knew you too well to the point where he could already see the answer before you even said it.

He leaned back again while staring at the screen for a few seconds. Then casually said,

“After the tour, I probably won’t let go of you.”

Your heart dropped.

“Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

“Don’t say things like that while looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“LIKE THAT.”

He laughed softly.

“I’m just saying I miss you.”

“The way you say it is the problem.”

“What if I was at the apartment right now?”

You instantly went completely silent. Yoongi saw your reaction and his smile became even thinner.

“Hmm.”

“Don’t hmm.”

“I’m just imagining it.”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“A little.”

“Yoongi…”

“I’d probably pull you onto the sofa already.”

Your breath instantly caught.

“And then you’d say you’re tired.”

“I am tired.”

“But you’d still come over to me.”

You genuinely couldn’t handle him once he started talking in that low voice. Especially now that his face already looked sleepy and soft. The deadliest combination.

“And then?” you asked quietly without realizing it.

Yoongi’s eyes immediately lifted slightly.

“Oh, so you want to keep listening.”

“Actually, never mind.”

“No. You asked.”

You bit your lip slightly. And Yoongi saw it. Of course he saw it.

“So dangerous,” he muttered softly.

“What?”

“The way you look when you’re embarrassed.”

You instantly turned your face away. Which only made him smile even more fondly.

“Come home soon okay,” you finally said quietly.

Yoongi’s expression instantly softened again.

“Hm.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you more.”

“Overconfident.”

“I’ll prove it later.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The time difference started becoming more and more annoying once BTS began touring in America.

In Seoul it was already evening while the sun there had only just risen. Sometimes you had just finished work while Yoongi was still at rehearsal. Sometimes you woke up in the morning to dozens of random texts from him sent at three in the morning local time because he couldn’t sleep again.

And the longer the tour went on, the more the longing started to settle in too.

Not the dramatic kind of longing that makes you cry every night. But the kind that appears in small things.

Like when you automatically took out two glasses from the cabinet before realizing you were living alone in the apartment right now. Or when you found Yoongi’s black hoodie still hanging over the living room chair and instinctively hugged it for a second because it still carried traces of his familiar perfume and laundry scent.

Or when you came home exhausted from work and realized there was no Yoongi sprawled across the sofa pretending to sleep just so you would approach him first.

That night you were sitting at the apartment work desk while staring at packaging design files that hadn’t gotten anywhere for hours. The desk lamp glowed brightly while the rest of the apartment stayed dim and quiet. Light rain fell outside the window, making the atmosphere feel calmer and lonelier at the same time.

You had just changed the song on Spotify when your phone vibrated.

Incoming video call: Yoongi.

A smile instantly appeared on your face without realizing it.

You hadn’t even pressed accept yet, but half your exhaustion was already gone.

The moment the call connected, the screen immediately showed a shaky camera moving everywhere. At first there was only a bright sky and the sound of people passing by. Then a few seconds later Yoongi’s face appeared.

And seriously.

He looked way too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be world famous.

A black cap pulled low. An oversized gray hoodie. His mask was hanging under his chin because he was probably too lazy to talk with it covering his face. Black hair sticking out slightly from under the cap and moving with the wind.

He walked slowly while holding his phone low, like he was genuinely just some ordinary person wandering around an evening market.

Even though he was Min Yoongi.

That was exactly what stressed you out.

“You’re outside?” you asked while automatically sitting up straighter.

“Hm.”

Yoongi’s answers were always short when he was relaxed. His voice sounded heavier from tour exhaustion, but there was a lighter tone that rarely appeared whenever he was genuinely enjoying himself.

The camera shifted slightly, showing small stores around him. Everything was full of color. Neon hanging fabrics, hand-painted ceramics, tiny lights, and faint street music in the distance.

You immediately understood why he liked that place.

Because it felt alive.

And because it was exactly the kind of place that would make you stop at every shop just to stare at random cute things.

“You went out alone?” you asked again.

“Hoseok and Jungkook are eating. I got bored at the hotel.”

His answer sounded so casual that you had to stop yourself from sighing loudly.

Yoongi was always like this.

Sometimes he still forgot who he was now.

Not because he was arrogant or intentionally dismissing his own popularity. Actually the opposite. Sometimes he genuinely still thought he could casually walk around without attracting too much attention, especially outside Korea.

Even now?

Even people who didn’t follow BTS would probably still recognize his face.

And you knew perfectly well the other members often said the same thing—Yoongi was sometimes way too relaxed about himself.

“Are you even being careful?” you asked while lowering your laptop volume.

“I’m wearing a cap.”

You stared at the screen flatly.

“That’s not a disguise.”

“I’m also wearing a hoodie.”

“Wow. Incredible.”

Yoongi chuckled softly.

His laugh mixed faintly with footsteps and market noise, but it was still enough to make the corner of your lips lift too.

Even so, you kept paying attention to the surroundings behind the camera. People passed by without caring, but there was still a small nervous feeling sitting in your chest.

Not because you didn’t trust him to take care of himself.

But because you knew what the world was like now. One person realizes that’s Min Yoongi from BTS, and five minutes later there could already be a crowd.

And the funny thing was, Yoongi himself still looked genuinely confused whenever that happened.

“You seriously…” you muttered while leaning back in your chair, “still think you guys are nobodies sometimes huh?”

Yoongi stayed quiet for a second before finally smiling faintly.

“Sometimes I forget.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m just taking a short walk.”

“You say ‘just taking a short walk’ like you’re some guy running the neighborhood photocopy shop.”

He laughed more clearly this time.

And honestly, you liked hearing him laugh like that.

Lately the tour schedule has been too exhausting. His face often looked tired. So every time Yoongi sounded genuinely relaxed and comfortable, you felt relieved too.

The camera moved again, showing rows of tiny colorful stores. Neon-painted Mexico skulls, brightly embroidered fabrics, flower mugs, and strange ornaments that somehow still looked artistic.

“You’d love places like this,” he suddenly said.

And he was right.

Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the colors.

You have always loved bright things. Random tiny objects that were cute and overly crowded-looking. Even your apartment had colorful decorations. Yoongi often mocked for having “too many colors.”

“I bought something for you,” he added casually, as if that sentence alone didn’t instantly warm your heart.

You automatically turned quickly toward the screen.

“Hah?”

Yoongi looked satisfied seeing your reaction.

He was always like that. Sometimes purposely saying things suddenly just to watch your shocked expression.

“I kept seeing it and thinking about you.”

And god.

No matter how simple the sentence was, it still always made your chest soften.

Because Yoongi wasn’t the type to openly act romantic. Which was exactly why small things like “I saw this and thought of you” felt far more special.

You immediately started guessing excitedly.

Maybe a cute plate.

Maybe embroidered fabric.

Maybe a long brightly-colored dress Yoongi himself would never touch but would still choose because “this is so you.”

The more you imagined it, the more curious you became.

Especially because the way Yoongi kept holding back his smile clearly showed he was enjoying this.

“Come on, show me,” you whined.

“No.”

“Yoongi.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“It’s fine.”

He finally stopped walking in front of one of the stores. The camera lowered slightly toward shelves full of colorful ornaments.

Then he picked something up.

At first you didn’t realize what it was.

Until he lifted it closer to the camera.

“…is that a skull?”

Yoongi instantly grinned faintly.

“Yeah.”

You stared at the screen for several seconds with a blank expression.

Out of everything in Mexico…

Your boyfriend chose a skull.

But of course it wasn’t just any skull.

It was a brightly painted Día de los Muertos ceramic skull. Pink flowers, blue lines, neon yellow, tiny bright green details. It looked more cute than scary.

Still—

“Why a skull…”

“But the colors are cute.”

“You’re seriously weird.”

Yoongi actually looked proud of his choice.

He slowly rotated the skull toward the camera like he was showing off expensive artwork.

And the longer you looked at it, the more it really did feel… very you.

Crowded colors.

Weird.

Slightly chaotic.

“You like it, right?”

You tried holding back your smile.

Because honestly, this really was Min Yoongi-style romance.

Not flowers.

Not stuffed dolls.

Not expensive jewelry.

But a random colorful skull he saw at a market and immediately thought of you.

And somehow that made your heart ache from affection.

“You know normal people buy flowers for their girlfriends.”

“I’m different.”

“Clearly.”

“You don’t like it?”

You finally laughed softly while leaning your head back against the chair.

“I do…”

“Exactly.”

“But you’re still weird.”

Yoongi laughed in satisfaction again.

Behind him, the shop lights had started turning on because evening was approaching there. The bright colors around him looked warmer now. And in the middle of that crowded market, Yoongi stood there holding his ugly-cute little skull proudly.

Strangely enough…

That sight only made you miss him more.

Because you could clearly imagine him casually walking from store to store, then stopping the second he saw that thing and thinking:

“This would definitely be something Y/N likes.”

And now you really wished you were there with him.

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That night, Seoul was at its coldest. Light rain had been falling since the afternoon, making the apartment air feel cool and cozy. You had already showered, wearing one of Yoongi’s oversized shirts that somehow had been staying in your closet more often than in his own lately. Your hair was still a little damp when you climbed onto the sofa carrying a thin blanket and a glass of iced americano with almost-melted ice.

The TV had actually been playing a drama for a while, but you weren’t really watching it. Your focus was only on mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Your FYP that night was completely random—people reviewing spicy food, Jungkook gym edits, videos of angry cats getting bathed.

Until suddenly…

A concert video.

The lights were insanely bright. Fans screaming loud enough to burst your ears even through your phone speaker.

And in the middle of the screen—

Yoongi.

You automatically stopped scrolling.

His hair was soaked with sweat, his breathing still visibly heavy after performing. He was wearing a thin white tank top underneath and a black outer jacket that had already fallen halfway open. His face was red from the heat and exhaustion, but he still looked absurdly handsome in the most annoying way possible.

The caption said:

“HE ACCIDENTALLY TOOK OFF EVERYTHING 😭”

Your eyebrow instantly lifted.

“Hah?”

The video kept playing.

Yoongi was seen pulling off his jacket from behind his neck, probably because he was hot. But somehow, the inner shirt got dragged up with it.

And a split second later—

The entire venue literally exploded.

“KYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAA—”

The fans’ screams cracked from how loud they were.

The camera recording immediately shook violently. Someone dropped their phone downward. Someone else only recorded the venue ceiling because they got too hysterical.

Meanwhile Yoongi…

His expression was priceless.

He instantly stopped moving, blankly staring for one second like his brain was buffering, then quickly pulled his shirt back down while laughing shyly.

You immediately covered your mouth.

Then burst out laughing alone in the living room.

“OH MY GOD.”

Replay.

Replay again.

And the more you replayed it, the funnier it got because he genuinely looked like it was completely accidental. Even the member next to him turned around with a shocked-but-laughing expression.

The next TikTok appeared from another angle.

One zoomed in on Yoongi’s face.

One was in slow motion.

One used dramatic Titanic music.

Another one had the caption:

“Mexico survived earthquakes but not this.”

You practically collapsed against the sofa laughing.

“Poor him…”

But you still replayed it again.

Honestly, it wasn’t just funny.

Yoongi looked way too good there.

That white tank top clung to him because of the sweat. His arms were full of veins after performing. His black hair fell slightly onto his forehead. And his embarrassed, panicked expression somehow made everyone lose their minds even more.

Your phone even started constantly buzzing.

The BTS group chat instantly became chaotic.

Jimin: hyung trending 😭😭😭

Hoseok: I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAKE OFF YOUR JACKET ON STAGE

Jungkook: Mexico will never move on

Namjoon: internet is gone

You laughed again while screenshotting several videos.

Then without thinking, you opened Yoongi’s chat.

For a few seconds you were still smiling to yourself before finally typing.

You: [5 screenshots] Congratulations

Typing…

Typing stopped.

Typing again.

Yoongi: I want to disappear

You immediately laughed again.

You: No seriously 😭 This is so funny

Yoongi: I just wanted to take off my jacket

You: And accidentally took off your dignity too

Read.

No reply for a few seconds.

Then—

Yoongi: You’re enjoying this way too much huh

You: Very much

Yoongi: Mean

You: An entire stadium screamed like they got jumpscared

Yoongi: I was shocked too

You: Your face was so funny 😭😭😭

You replayed the video again while grinning to yourself.

Especially the part where Yoongi immediately pulled his shirt back down with an expression like “what the hell just happened?”

You even zoomed in on a certain screenshot.

Oh.

Oh no.

His arms were insane though.

Without realizing it, you took another screenshot.

You: Btw are your arms even legal?

Yoongi took longer to reply this time.

Maybe he was showering. Maybe eating. Or maybe regretting his life because the entire internet was now filled with fancams of him.

Finally the chat bubble appeared again.

Yoongi: Are you thirst tweeting now too?

You: I’m a victim of the timeline

Yoongi: Delete TikTok

You: Can’t The entertainment tonight is too good

Yoongi: I’m tired

You: But handsome

Read.

No reply for about a minute.

Then suddenly your phone screen showed an incoming video call.

You instantly laughed before answering.

The moment it connected, Yoongi’s face immediately filled the screen.

His hair was still slightly wet after showering. He was now wearing a loose black shirt with the collar hanging lower on one side. His skin was still slightly flushed from the concert and hot shower. He sat leaning against the hotel sofa while staring at you with a tired face.

“Just keep laughing.”

The second you heard his raspy post-performance voice, you laughed even harder.

“Sorry—really sorry but this is genuinely funny…”

Yoongi closed his eyes briefly while letting out a long sigh.

“I opened my phone and it was pure chaos.”

“Well that’s your fault.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“You know people are saying Mexico lost their minds tonight?”

“I want to uninstall the internet.”

You were still smiling widely while staring at the screen.

And damn it, the more you looked at him now, the more you kept thinking about him earlier on stage.

Sweaty. Heavy breathing. Tense arms.

God.

Yoongi watched your face for a few seconds.

Then the corner of his lips lifted slightly.

“Oh.”

“What oh.”

“So you were freaking out too apparently.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I was just surprised.”

“How many times did you replay it?”

You instantly went silent.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Exactly.”

“…a few.”

“How many is a few?”

“Well… several.”

“You took screenshots too.”

Your eyes widened immediately.

“How do you know?!”

“I can tell from your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“You look guilty.”

You let out a small huff while leaning back against the sofa again.

Yoongi watched you with a faint smile. Even exhausted like that, he still had energy to tease you.

“You seriously…” you muttered quietly.

“What?”

“You made an entire country hysterical.”

“One country is exaggerating.”

“No it’s not. Their screaming was terrifying.”

Yoongi just laughed softly.

And oh my god, that soft laugh.

You hated how easily he made your heart feel weird just from his voice alone.

“You need to see the edits now,” you said while reopening TikTok. “Someone already made a slow motion version.”

“Don’t show me.”

“Too late.”

You played one video.

The second the hysterical fan screams blasted from your phone, Yoongi immediately covered his face with one hand.

“OH MY GOD.”

You burst out laughing again.

“Your expression is so funny!”

“I’m genuinely embarrassed.”

“It’s rare seeing you this embarrassed.”

“Because it wasn’t intentional.”

“You literally buffered on stage.”

“I panicked.”

“It showed.”

Yoongi sighed deeply while sinking further into the hotel sofa.

His shirt shifted slightly higher around the sleeves.

And you… unconsciously glanced again.

Yoongi noticed.

Very noticed.

“What are you doing?”

“Hm?”

“You keep staring.”

“I’m not.”

“You think I don’t know?”

You instantly got flustered.

“Fine, maybe a little.”

“You said it was funny.”

“It is funny.”

“So what is it now?”

You bit your lip briefly before quietly answering,

“…handsome too.”

Yoongi went silent for a few seconds.

Then he smiled very slightly.

A thin smile.

The kind that made your heart melt because he genuinely looked happy hearing it.

“You make me feel confident so easily.”

“Hey don’t get too confident.”

“Why?”

“Or you’ll intentionally take your shirt off at concerts.”

He immediately laughed.

“I’m not that bad.”

“You sure?”

“You’ve already seen it plenty of times too.”

And like someone pressed pause—

You instantly froze.

“…what?”

Yoongi casually leaned back while looking at you.

“Why are you pretending to be shocked now?”

“MIN YOONGI.”

“What?”

“That’s a different context.”

“What’s the difference?”

“AN ENTIRE STADIUM SAW THIS.”

“But who sees it the most often?”

Your cheeks instantly heated up.

“That’s not the point—”

“You literally sleep hugging me every night.”

“STOP.”

“And now you’re embarrassed?”

You immediately covered your face with a sofa pillow while groaning in embarrassment.

Yoongi just laughed victoriously from the other side.

“Finally embarrassed too.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You started it earlier.”

“But now you’re doing it on purpose!”

“Hm.”

“What do you mean hm.”

“It’s cute seeing you flustered.”

You peeked from behind the pillow.

Yoongi was still smiling faintly while watching you. His face looked far more relaxed now compared to the beginning of the call.

And strangely enough, you really loved being the reason he relaxed after a long concert like this.

“You’re really tired huh?” you finally asked, your voice softer.

Yoongi nodded slightly.

“A little.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah.”

“Drink water?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Yoongi.”

He laughed softly again.

“I drank.”

You watched his face for a few seconds.

His eyes were slightly red from exhaustion. His voice sounded heavier too. But he still called you just because you teased him about that stupid wardrobe malfunction earlier.

Your chest warmed on its own.

“You should sleep later,” you said quietly.

“Later.”

“Don’t keep saying later.”

He looked at you for a moment.

Then quietly said,

“I miss you.”

Your expression instantly softened.

“…it’s only been a week.”

“Long.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Yeah.”

You smiled faintly.

And for a few seconds, you just stared at each other through the screen, both exhausted but comfortable.

Until Yoongi finally spoke again casually,

“But seriously.”

“Hm?”

“You were more excited than the Mexico fans.”

You instantly glared.

“Because that’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh so you were jealous?”

“A little.”

“Aigoo…”

“What do you mean aigoo.”

“You’re cute.”

“Not cute.”

“You’re jealous over an accidental shirt slip.”

“It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

“Because it is funny.”

You huffed in embarrassment.

And Yoongi, who had looked half-dead exhausted this whole time, just smiled even softer while quietly saying,

“The one who sees the most is still you anyway.”

You immediately collapsed backward onto the sofa while covering your face.

“OH MY GOD MIN YOONGI.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You were still lying flat on the sofa with your face covered by a pillow, while Yoongi’s soft laughter kept coming from your phone speaker.

Satisfied laughter. The kind of laughter from someone who realized he had successfully made his girlfriend malfunction.

“Get up.”

“No.”

“Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because you said it like that!”

“But it’s true.”

You lowered the pillow slightly, glaring at the screen.

“Yoongi.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t flirt when your face still looks like this after a concert.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Why?”

“Dangerous.”

That smile immediately appeared again. Small, crooked, annoying.

“I’m literally just sitting here.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.”

Yoongi laughed softly while resting his head against the hotel sofa. The dim room lighting made the lines of his face look even sharper. His black hair was still slightly damp and falling over his forehead in a way that looked way too good for someone claiming to be exhausted.

And the thing making your heart race the most— He looked so comfortable right now. Relaxed. Soft. But his eyes hadn’t left you this entire time.

“You seriously…” you muttered quietly while avoiding his gaze, “you just caused internet chaos and still have time to tease me.”

“Because I miss you.”

His answer came too fast. Too honest. Your heart instantly skipped weirdly.

“You usually get clingy when you’re tired,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“And?”

“And right now I can’t hug you.”

Yoongi went quiet for a moment.

His expression immediately softened a little more.

“I know.”

The atmosphere suddenly became calmer.

You were already used to tour schedules. Used to video calls from different countries. Used to falling asleep on call until one of you passed out first.

But somehow this time felt different.

Maybe because Yoongi’s schedule was too packed. Maybe because you had gotten too used to being close before he left. Or maybe because right now he was looking at you like that while seeming like he really wanted to come home.

“You know,” he suddenly said, his voice low and raspy, “right after the concert, the first thing I did was check my phone for your message.”

You instantly looked back at the screen.

“Seriously?”

“Hm.”

“Why?”

“I already knew you’d make fun of me.”

You laughed softly.

“And you still looked for it.”

“Because I missed you.”

God. You genuinely couldn’t handle it when he suddenly got soft like this. Especially when he followed it up with a tiny smile while secretly staring at you.

“Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

“You make it hard to sleep.”

“I haven’t even started yet.”

You instantly froze.

“What do you mean you haven’t started?”

He casually shrugged a little.

“You said I was flirting earlier.”

“And?”

“But I was just acting normal.”

Your cheeks instantly heated up again.

“Okay then don’t start.”

“What if I do?”

“MIN YOONGI.”

He laughed softly again. Not loudly, but low enough to make your stomach feel weird. Then he moved slightly closer to the camera. And god. That was a terrible mistake.

Because now his face completely filled your phone screen.

“You know what the funniest part earlier was?” he asked quietly.

“What?”

“You got possessive immediately.”

“I was not possessive.”

“You literally said ‘that’s my boyfriend.’”

“Well he is.”

“And then you got jealous.”

“A little.”

“You really like me huh.”

You instantly glared in embarrassment.

“Overconfident.”

“But it's true.”

You let out a long sigh while covering half your face with the blanket. Yoongi watched you with a faint smile.

“Cute.”

“Don’t call me cute.”

“Why?”

“It just makes me more annoyed.”

“But you’re smiling.”

You reflexively touched your lips.

Damn it.

He was right.

Yoongi instantly looked satisfied.

“I know your expressions by heart.”

“You don’t need to know them by heart.”

“Too late.”

A few seconds later the atmosphere became quiet again. You could hear the hotel AC from his side. Occasionally there were distant sounds from the hallway, but other than that there was only the sound of your breathing.

Yoongi looked really exhausted now. His eyes were half-lidded. His loose black shirt slipped slightly off his shoulder when he moved. And unfortunately it made you remember the earlier video again.

Yoongi noticed again. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re spacing out.”

“I just remembered earlier.”

“Which earlier?”

“You know which one.”

He smiled faintly.

“Oh. The Mexico incident.”

“Don’t call it an incident like it’s a scandal.”

“It felt like one.”

“The internet literally lost its mind.”

“You did too.”

You sighed softly.

“Well how was I supposed to react…”

“Hm?”

“You earlier were…”

You stopped yourself.

Yoongi waited.

And somehow that was worse than if he pushed you.

Because he just quietly stared at you, making you even more nervous.

“What?” he asked again softly.

“…hot.”

Yoongi immediately tried to hold back a smile.

“Oh?”

“Don’t get too confident yet.”

“But you called me hot.”

“You are hot.”

He finally let out a small laugh.

“Wow.”

“You’re not fair.”

“Why?”

“You know exactly what your post-concert face does to people.”

“What does it do?”

“Yoongi.”

“Answer first.”

You covered your face again.

Which only amused him more.

“Aigoo…”

“Stop laughing.”

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“And you’re so evil when you miss me.”

Yoongi went quiet for a moment.

Then with a lower, softer voice—

“I really do miss you badly right now.”

Your heart instantly dropped. The way he said things like that was always dangerous. Not excessive. Not dramatic. But because his tone stayed calm, it somehow felt more real.

“When are you coming home?” you asked softly.

“Still a few more weeks.”

You instantly pouted.

“That’s too long.”

“Hm.”

“I hate long distance.”

“Me too.”

Yoongi slowly rubbed his face before looking at you again.

“That’s why when I get home later, don’t complain.”

“Why do I suddenly feel nervous?”

“You’re the one who called me hot earlier.”

“I REGRET SAYING THAT.”

He laughed again.

“You can’t take it back.”

“Yes I can.”

“No you can’t.”

“You’re annoying.”

“But you miss me.”

You stayed quiet. Because he was right. And Yoongi knew you too well to the point where he could already see the answer before you even said it.

He leaned back again while staring at the screen for a few seconds. Then casually said,

“After the tour, I probably won’t let go of you.”

Your heart dropped.

“Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

“Don’t say things like that while looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“LIKE THAT.”

He laughed softly.

“I’m just saying I miss you.”

“The way you say it is the problem.”

“What if I was at the apartment right now?”

You instantly went completely silent. Yoongi saw your reaction and his smile became even thinner.

“Hmm.”

“Don’t hmm.”

“I’m just imagining it.”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“A little.”

“Yoongi…”

“I’d probably pull you onto the sofa already.”

Your breath instantly caught.

“And then you’d say you’re tired.”

“I am tired.”

“But you’d still come over to me.”

You genuinely couldn’t handle him once he started talking in that low voice. Especially now that his face already looked sleepy and soft. The deadliest combination.

“And then?” you asked quietly without realizing it.

Yoongi’s eyes immediately lifted slightly.

“Oh, so you want to keep listening.”

“Actually, never mind.”

“No. You asked.”

You bit your lip slightly. And Yoongi saw it. Of course he saw it.

“So dangerous,” he muttered softly.

“What?”

“The way you look when you’re embarrassed.”

You instantly turned your face away. Which only made him smile even more fondly.

“Come home soon okay,” you finally said quietly.

Yoongi’s expression instantly softened again.

“Hm.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you more.”

“Overconfident.”

“I’ll prove it later.”

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The time difference started becoming more and more annoying once BTS began touring in America.

In Seoul it was already evening while the sun there had only just risen. Sometimes you had just finished work while Yoongi was still at rehearsal. Sometimes you woke up in the morning to dozens of random texts from him sent at three in the morning local time because he couldn’t sleep again.

And the longer the tour went on, the more the longing started to settle in too.

Not the dramatic kind of longing that makes you cry every night. But the kind that appears in small things.

Like when you automatically took out two glasses from the cabinet before realizing you were living alone in the apartment right now. Or when you found Yoongi’s black hoodie still hanging over the living room chair and instinctively hugged it for a second because it still carried traces of his familiar perfume and laundry scent.

Or when you came home exhausted from work and realized there was no Yoongi sprawled across the sofa pretending to sleep just so you would approach him first.

That night you were sitting at the apartment work desk while staring at packaging design files that hadn’t gotten anywhere for hours. The desk lamp glowed brightly while the rest of the apartment stayed dim and quiet. Light rain fell outside the window, making the atmosphere feel calmer and lonelier at the same time.

You had just changed the song on Spotify when your phone vibrated.

Incoming video call: Yoongi.

A smile instantly appeared on your face without realizing it.

You hadn’t even pressed accept yet, but half your exhaustion was already gone.

The moment the call connected, the screen immediately showed a shaky camera moving everywhere. At first there was only a bright sky and the sound of people passing by. Then a few seconds later Yoongi’s face appeared.

And seriously.

He looked way too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be world famous.

A black cap pulled low. An oversized gray hoodie. His mask was hanging under his chin because he was probably too lazy to talk with it covering his face. Black hair sticking out slightly from under the cap and moving with the wind.

He walked slowly while holding his phone low, like he was genuinely just some ordinary person wandering around an evening market.

Even though he was Min Yoongi.

That was exactly what stressed you out.

“You’re outside?” you asked while automatically sitting up straighter.

“Hm.”

Yoongi’s answers were always short when he was relaxed. His voice sounded heavier from tour exhaustion, but there was a lighter tone that rarely appeared whenever he was genuinely enjoying himself.

The camera shifted slightly, showing small stores around him. Everything was full of color. Neon hanging fabrics, hand-painted ceramics, tiny lights, and faint street music in the distance.

You immediately understood why he liked that place.

Because it felt alive.

And because it was exactly the kind of place that would make you stop at every shop just to stare at random cute things.

“You went out alone?” you asked again.

“Hoseok and Jungkook are eating. I got bored at the hotel.”

His answer sounded so casual that you had to stop yourself from sighing loudly.

Yoongi was always like this.

Sometimes he still forgot who he was now.

Not because he was arrogant or intentionally dismissing his own popularity. Actually the opposite. Sometimes he genuinely still thought he could casually walk around without attracting too much attention, especially outside Korea.

Even now?

Even people who didn’t follow BTS would probably still recognize his face.

And you knew perfectly well the other members often said the same thing—Yoongi was sometimes way too relaxed about himself.

“Are you even being careful?” you asked while lowering your laptop volume.

“I’m wearing a cap.”

You stared at the screen flatly.

“That’s not a disguise.”

“I’m also wearing a hoodie.”

“Wow. Incredible.”

Yoongi chuckled softly.

His laugh mixed faintly with footsteps and market noise, but it was still enough to make the corner of your lips lift too.

Even so, you kept paying attention to the surroundings behind the camera. People passed by without caring, but there was still a small nervous feeling sitting in your chest.

Not because you didn’t trust him to take care of himself.

But because you knew what the world was like now. One person realizes that’s Min Yoongi from BTS, and five minutes later there could already be a crowd.

And the funny thing was, Yoongi himself still looked genuinely confused whenever that happened.

“You seriously…” you muttered while leaning back in your chair, “still think you guys are nobodies sometimes huh?”

Yoongi stayed quiet for a second before finally smiling faintly.

“Sometimes I forget.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m just taking a short walk.”

“You say ‘just taking a short walk’ like you’re some guy running the neighborhood photocopy shop.”

He laughed more clearly this time.

And honestly, you liked hearing him laugh like that.

Lately the tour schedule has been too exhausting. His face often looked tired. So every time Yoongi sounded genuinely relaxed and comfortable, you felt relieved too.

The camera moved again, showing rows of tiny colorful stores. Neon-painted Mexico skulls, brightly embroidered fabrics, flower mugs, and strange ornaments that somehow still looked artistic.

“You’d love places like this,” he suddenly said.

And he was right.

Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the colors.

You have always loved bright things. Random tiny objects that were cute and overly crowded-looking. Even your apartment had colorful decorations. Yoongi often mocked for having “too many colors.”

“I bought something for you,” he added casually, as if that sentence alone didn’t instantly warm your heart.

You automatically turned quickly toward the screen.

“Hah?”

Yoongi looked satisfied seeing your reaction.

He was always like that. Sometimes purposely saying things suddenly just to watch your shocked expression.

“I kept seeing it and thinking about you.”

And god.

No matter how simple the sentence was, it still always made your chest soften.

Because Yoongi wasn’t the type to openly act romantic. Which was exactly why small things like “I saw this and thought of you” felt far more special.

You immediately started guessing excitedly.

Maybe a cute plate.

Maybe embroidered fabric.

Maybe a long brightly-colored dress Yoongi himself would never touch but would still choose because “this is so you.”

The more you imagined it, the more curious you became.

Especially because the way Yoongi kept holding back his smile clearly showed he was enjoying this.

“Come on, show me,” you whined.

“No.”

“Yoongi.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“It’s fine.”

He finally stopped walking in front of one of the stores. The camera lowered slightly toward shelves full of colorful ornaments.

Then he picked something up.

At first you didn’t realize what it was.

Until he lifted it closer to the camera.

“…is that a skull?”

Yoongi instantly grinned faintly.

“Yeah.”

You stared at the screen for several seconds with a blank expression.

Out of everything in Mexico…

Your boyfriend chose a skull.

But of course it wasn’t just any skull.

It was a brightly painted Día de los Muertos ceramic skull. Pink flowers, blue lines, neon yellow, tiny bright green details. It looked more cute than scary.

Still—

“Why a skull…”

“But the colors are cute.”

“You’re seriously weird.”

Yoongi actually looked proud of his choice.

He slowly rotated the skull toward the camera like he was showing off expensive artwork.

And the longer you looked at it, the more it really did feel… very you.

Crowded colors.

Weird.

Slightly chaotic.

“You like it, right?”

You tried holding back your smile.

Because honestly, this really was Min Yoongi-style romance.

Not flowers.

Not stuffed dolls.

Not expensive jewelry.

But a random colorful skull he saw at a market and immediately thought of you.

And somehow that made your heart ache from affection.

“You know normal people buy flowers for their girlfriends.”

“I’m different.”

“Clearly.”

“You don’t like it?”

You finally laughed softly while leaning your head back against the chair.

“I do…”

“Exactly.”

“But you’re still weird.”

Yoongi laughed in satisfaction again.

Behind him, the shop lights had started turning on because evening was approaching there. The bright colors around him looked warmer now. And in the middle of that crowded market, Yoongi stood there holding his ugly-cute little skull proudly.

Strangely enough…

That sight only made you miss him more.

Because you could clearly imagine him casually walking from store to store, then stopping the second he saw that thing and thinking:

“This would definitely be something Y/N likes.”

And now you really wished you were there with him.

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“Wha- what. What?” He asks at first, not used to you coming over and just smothering him in a hug. He nearly drops his orange when you climb up on his seat and throw your arms around him. His cheek is smushed against your chest as he makes a face. “What are you doing?” He asks again. You try not to laugh, pressing your face to the crook of his neck once you settle down.

He misinterprets the gesture as sadness.

Awkwardly, he puts one arm around you to rub your back, the other still fumbling with his snack. He deftly pulls a section from the whole and offers it to you. “Honey.” He says “are you upset? This is so weird…” he mutters, confused but not necessarily against it. “Look at me, please?”

You cant take it anymore— he feels you starting to snicker and he take a deep breath. “You worried me,” yoongi complains, exhasperated; he realizes now you’re playing around.

“What, I cant hold my boyfriend?!” You ask— popping your head up. He tries offering you a slice again and you take it this time. “You looked really cute I just wanted to cuddle.”

“You didn’t say anything,” he points out, “I thought you were crying,”

“Wowwww…”

“What? I- I don’t… you confuse me.”

“Im just loving you,” you nuzzle him and his shoulders tense.

“I can see that.” The slightest hint of his gummy smile shows. He wouldnt admit it but he does like this; it wasnt every day he felt comfortable enough to hold you. Slowly his body returns back to its relaxed state. In time he presses a kiss to your forehead right between your eyebrows.

“Not so bad is it?” You ask, relaxed against his body.

“No.” He replies, focused once more. “Im starting to anticipate it. Comes with having a velcro girlfriend.”

“Velcro girlfriend?” You repeat, amused by the term.

“Yeah,” he confirms, finishing off his tangerine. “You are stuck to me everywhere I go. — I would touch you back but my fingers are sticky. Let me get up to wash my hands.”

“Nooooo,” you whine. “I just got comfortable.”

“Honey,” he grins, amused by your antics. “Let go of me- see this what I mean by velcro. Im about to carry you to the sink.”

“No!”

It starts off with him just going to his trailer because he forgot his lucky bracelet (the one you gave him on his birthday the first year you celebrated together). The door almost hits him on the ass by the time you jump him, and he barely has time to be surprised before you grab his face and pull him down.

“How’d you sneak in here?” he chuckles between breathless kisses, hands going to your waist like clockwork.

“I’m your wife. Duh,” you snap, fingers ensnaring the heavy chains around his neck.

“I start filming in five minutes.”

“I’ll be quick.” He never argues with you. He lets you push him down on the couch, straddle him, kiss and lick at the base of his neck, knowing you don’t need the reminder not to make marks unless you want a hit put on you by his stylist, and you’re always careful not to touch his face for that same reason. It takes him a second to realize you’re wearing a skirt. He opens his mouth to scold you for coming to see him in clothes like that since it’s so cold out but then you reach under to dip into your bare, sopping pussy. Ah. Easy access. You came with a plan.

In all the years you’ve been together, it’s never taken much for you to get him hard. You walk into a room and bam - he has to adjust himself. And when you touch him - there goes his thoughts for a few minutes. It’s always been like this, and he knows it’ll never change. So when you figure out how to get into his boxers without pushing down too much leather, he’s already stiff and leaking at the tip.

You smear down his precum and he bites his lip when you grab his cock with the fingers you had between your legs, glistening with your slick, making him nice and wet for you.

“Damn, baby. Were you playing with yourself while you waited for me?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, whimpering as you finally let him penetrate your walls. You’re so wet and warm and tight when you sink down on him that he has to hold in a breath to keep himself together. But then he reminds himself that this is a quickie. He knows you could stay here and ride him until his balls are empty, but, unfortunately, he doesn’t have that kind of time. His phone - that he shouldn’t even have on him in the first place (he does though, just for you) - has been vibrating in his pocket for the past few minutes, but the more he’s distracted, the longer it’ll take him to make you both come, so he ignores it.

Your hands grip his shoulders as you wiggle your hips to adjust to his girth that he finds so fucking cute every single time, but he can hardly feel your touch through the thick leather of his jacket. He curses, because his fingerless gloves are preventing him from fully touching the skin on your hip, so he grips you hard enough to bruise. Usually, he’d let you bounce and ride him until you came on him and got too tired to carry on, but to speed things up, he bucks up into you, watching your parted lips spill out moans as he grinds against your spot, grunting as it makes you squeeze him and suck him deeper in. He kisses you, swallowing your sweet sounds, and his balls tighten when your fingers dig into the side of his head, tightly fisting his hair. Telltale sign that you’re close. You must've really worked yourself up while you were waiting for him.

“Come for me,” he whispers against your lips, fingers dropping and finding your clit to press and rub you over the edge. You loudly cry out his name, pulling at his hair so his head tips to the side as he continues fucking up into you and kissing the underside of your jaw. “That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so good.”

“Come inside," you warble, cheek lolling against his temple, fingers still entangled in his hair, cunt clenching him through your aftershocks.

“Mm.” Eyebrows pinched, his fingers return to flex on your hip, cock twitching at the mere thought of getting to fill you up. “Remember to take your pill.”

You whine, indignant. He sighs, shakes his head. You make that sound when he doesn’t give you what you want.

“I’ll give you a baby when we come back from tour, ‘kay?”

You whine again, louder and borderline disobedient, slamming down on him like it tells him something. Sucking in a hiss because damn that felt good, he slaps your ass and massages out the sting, a silent warning to stop being a brat. This is one thing he’s not going to let you win an argument about.

“Hey, that was the deal, right? I’m not leaving you at home alone and pregnant while I fly around the world for eight months.”

“Yeah, but by the time you’d get back, you’d have a baby. You wouldn’t have to deal with all my pregnancy bullshit,” you try to reason, hips still rolling, eyes glassy and pout pathetic. He frowns. You’ve both had this conversation multiple times before, but that’s the first time you’ve made this point. He doesn’t fucking like it.

Yoongi tugs down on your waist to get you to stop, pelvises pressed together, cock deep inside you. But you know better than to move.

“Look at me.” You refuse, and the leather of his fingerless gloves rubs your cheeks as he grabs them. “I want to deal with all your pregnancy bullshit. I married you, remember? I signed up to put up with all your bullshit for the rest of my life and I don’t plan on missing out on any of it.”

His eyes dart between both of yours, making sure what he said is sticking with you, and when you lean in to sloppily kiss him, he knows the message got through.

“Now, c’mon. You said you were gonna be quick.”

You sit up straighter, and you’re clearly weakened from your orgasm but you put in effort that he’ll worship you for later to bring him to his own peak. Slick sounds of your pussy and slams of your hips fill the trailer, and within seconds of you squeezing him, sucking on his earlobe, and toying with his chains, he’s muttering an incoherent string of curses and spilling deep inside you. His balls just keep pulsing and holyyy shit, he really could get you pregnant right now. (He would love nothing more, but later he’ll text you another reminder to take your pill).

“I love you so fucking much,” he pants into your neck, wishing he had the time to leave his mark. “Even though you’re gonna get me in so much fucking trouble.”

“Love you, too. Don’t forget you married trouble,” You grin, waggling his ring on your finger in his facr, and his hips jerk as you lift off of him. He tips his chin up when you start to lean in for another kiss but your mouth drops and your eyes go wide.

“Oh, fuck, your hair-“ You reach out to try and fix it, but just as you do, a loud pounding on the trailer door startles the both of you.

“Shit, gotta go,” Yoongi mutters, quickly stuffing himself back in this godforsaken leather as his manager starts yelling for him to come out. You try your best to smooth down his hair, but when you keep muttering curses under your breath, he knows it’s not working.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you later.” He kisses you, lingers a second longer than he has time for, and leaves you sitting on the couch, skirt halfway up your waist, fingers playing with his cum dripping out. Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him. He needs to shoot this music video first.

Yoongi’s manager chews him all the way out onto the set, and his stylist gives him the evilest eye when she catches sight of his hair. He just scurries towards his band because his manager already said there’s no time to fix it.

“Where were you?” Namjoon exclaims as Yoongi walks towards the center of the platform. He shrugs, like he’s not still perspiring and his dick isn’t still hard. Luckily, his leather pants are bulky enough to hide it. “I had to grab something.”

“Look at his hair! That means his honey came to visit,” Hobi says, waggling his brows. Yoongi shoots him daggers.

“Shut up.”

The maknaes burst into raucous laughter and Taehyung and Jimin mime grabbing at each other, making overexaggerated kissing noises and mimicking the way you cry out Yoongi’s name. Yoongi turns his back on them to go to his spot, just missing Jeongguk thrusting in the air like he’s mid-Baepsae.

“You brought this on yourself,” Namjoon mutters, stepping up next to him, fixing his gloves. Yoongi pretends not to hear. “It’s been, what, four years? And y’all still act like newlyweds.”

“We’re making up for the time we missed while I was in the military.”

Namjoon’s face pulls back, disgusted. “Okay, well, can you not do that on our schedule?” “Sorry, leader-nim,” Yoongi fake apologizes, pressing his hands together, smirk lopsided and shit-eating. “Maybe if you let her come on tour, she wouldn’t find any downtime I have now to, yknow, make up.”

Namjoon sighs, long and distressed. Yoongi only feels a little bad. You’re his wife. He needs you by his side, and not just to have little quickies whenever there’s minutes to spare. He was enough of a wreck being away from you during his service. He doesn’t want that to happen because of work.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

Yoongi smiles, lighting up inside and out. “Thanks, bro. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon waves him off, just in time for the director to call for action.

He doesn’t know how crazy his hair looks until they play the footage back to check for mistakes and potential position adjustments. His band members tease him, but it makes him smile that it’s there because you need to grab onto his hair when he makes you come. No one outside of this set will ever know his cowlick is thanks to his wife, and that makes him like it even more.

He still left his damn bracelet.

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Yoongi is buried deep inside you, hips rolling in that slow, deliberate rhythm he always uses when he wants to take his time. Every thrust is precise, angled just right to brush against that spot that usually makes your toes curl and your breath hitch. His hands grip your hips firmly, fingers digging into your skin with just enough pressure to ground you, but never enough to bruise. He knows your body so well— better than anyone ever has.

It feels good. Of course it feels good. It always does with him.

His cock stretches you perfectly, sliding in and out with a wet, obscene sound that fills the quiet bedroom. Each time he pushes forward, the head drags along your walls, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through your core. You can feel the slight tremor in his thighs where they press against the backs of yours, the way his abs tighten against your stomach with every controlled roll of his hips. He’s sweating lightly, a faint sheen glistening on his collarbones and the sharp line of his jaw, but his face… his face stays almost serene.

That’s the part that’s been haunting you lately.

Yoongi is quiet.

Painfully, unnervingly quiet.

While you’re trying to lose yourself in the feeling of him— his thickness, the way he fills you so completely, the heat of his body pressed to yours, you keep getting pulled out of it by the silence. There are no desperate moans spilling from his lips, no broken curses, no rough growls of your name. Just the occasional low grunt when he sinks in particularly deep, or a barely-there groan that vibrates through his chest when his pace picks up for a few strokes. Even his breathing stays measured, controlled, like he’s meditating instead of fucking you senseless.

You bite your lip as another slow thrust drags a real spark of pleasure from you. For a moment, you let your eyes flutter shut and try to focus only on the sensation: the drag, the fullness, the way his pubic bone grinds lightly against your clit with every forward motion. It’s good. So good. Your walls flutter around him involuntarily, and you feel yourself getting wetter, slick sounds growing louder between your bodies.

But then your mind drifts again.

Why doesn’t he make noise? Does it not feel as intense for him as it does for you? Is he holding back because he’s not actually enjoying it that much? Or worse… is he bored?

The thoughts creep in like smoke, curling around the edges of your pleasure and slowly choking it out. Your orgasm, which had been steadily building, starts to slip away. The heat in your belly dulls, turning from a roaring fire into something distant and lukewarm. You clench around him on purpose, trying to chase the feeling back, but it’s already fading.

Yoongi doesn’t falter. His rhythm stays steady, deep, unhurried strokes that should be driving you crazy. One of his hands slides up your side, palm rough and warm as it cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow circles. It sends a shiver through you, but it’s not enough to pull you fully back into your body. Your mind is louder than the pleasure now.

You don’t want him to know.

You don’t want him to stop or pull away or ask what’s wrong. So you do the only thing you can think of in the moment.

You start faking it.

A soft, breathy moan slips past your lips— higher and more theatrical than the ones that usually come naturally. You tilt your head back into the pillow, letting your mouth fall open as you force another moan out, longer this time, letting it tremble at the end like you’re right on the edge. Your hands slide up his back, nails digging in just a little harder than before, and you rock your hips up to meet his thrusts with more exaggerated movements, making sure your body moves like you’re lost in it.

“Oh… fuck, Yoongi,” you whimper, voice pitched just a touch too sweet, too performative. You clench around him again, purposefully this time, and add a little gasp at the end for good measure. “Feels so good…”

Your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now. The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you keep going, layering on more moans and whines, letting your breathing come faster and more ragged than it actually is. You arch your back dramatically, pushing your chest up toward him, and let your eyes squeeze shut as if you’re overwhelmed with pleasure.

Inside, the real pleasure has almost completely slipped away, replaced by a tight knot of anxiety in your stomach. But you keep the act going, hips rolling, moans spilling out one after another, all while Yoongi continues to fuck you in that same devastatingly silent, controlled way.

His skin is hot against yours. His cock still feels perfect inside you. But your mind won’t shut up, and now your body is performing instead of feeling.

You just hope he doesn’t notice. You keep the act going, layering moan after moan as Yoongi’s pace stays steady and deep. Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears— too breathy, too eager, too loud in the quiet room. You tighten around him deliberately with every thrust, rolling your hips up to meet him with exaggerated movements, letting your nails rake down his back a little harder than usual.

“Yoongi… oh god, right there,” you gasp, forcing the words out like they’re being torn from you. Your back arches off the bed in a dramatic curve, breasts pressing against his chest as you whimper and whine, building the performance higher and higher. The real pleasure has long since faded into the background, drowned out by the loud buzzing of insecurity in your head, but you push through, faking the climb with everything you have.

Inside, your stomach twists. You hate this. You hate lying to him like this, but the fear of him realizing how disconnected you feel is worse.

You feel his rhythm falter just slightly— only for a fraction of a second, before he drives in deeper, hips snapping forward one last time. A low, guttural grunt escapes his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck as he buries himself to the hilt. His cock pulses inside you, hot and thick, spilling deep as he cums with that single, restrained sound. His body tenses above you, muscles locking up, fingers digging harder into your hips for a moment before he slowly relaxes.

You fake your own release right after him, letting out a long, trembling moan that peaks sharply and then dissolves into shaky little whimpers. Your walls clench around him rhythmically, body shuddering beneath him as if you’re riding out wave after wave. You even let your thighs tremble and your breath hitch dramatically, clutching at his shoulders like you can’t handle how good it feels.

When it’s over, Yoongi stays buried inside you for a few long seconds, breathing steady against your skin. Then he slowly pulls out, the wet slide of his cock leaving you feeling empty and strangely hollow. He presses a soft, almost absent kiss to your collarbone before rolling off you and sitting up on the edge of the bed.

The room feels colder without his weight pressing you down. You stay exactly where you are, flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. The fan above spins lazily, casting faint shifting shadows across the white paint. Your chest rises and falls with breaths that are still too fast, but not from pleasure anymore. Cum slowly leaks out of you, warm and sticky against your inner thighs, a reminder of what just happened. Your body feels used in the best physical way and yet emotionally distant, like you watched the whole thing from somewhere outside yourself.

Yoongi stands, the mattress dipping and then rising as his weight leaves. You hear the rustle of fabric as he picks up his discarded boxers and sweatpants from the floor, the soft sound of him stepping into them. He doesn’t say anything. He never really does after sex. The silence that felt intimate before now feels like a weight pressing on your chest.

He pads out of the bedroom barefoot, footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor, heading toward the kitchen. You remain motionless, eyes fixed on that spinning fan, the aftershocks of your faked orgasm leaving a sour taste in your mouth. The sheets beneath you are damp with sweat and slick, clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Your heart is still racing, but it’s anxiety now, not desire.

A few minutes later, you hear the faint clink of a glass and the sound of the faucet running. Yoongi returns, the soft glow from the hallway light outlining his silhouette as he steps back into the room. He’s shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his narrow hips, black hair slightly messy from your fingers earlier. In his hand is a glass of water, condensation already beading on the outside.

He sits on the edge of the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. The glass is cool as he gently presses it into your hand. “Here,” he murmurs, voice low and a little rough from disuse. His dark eyes search your face in the dim light. “Drink.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows, taking the glass with fingers that feel slightly shaky. The water is cold and refreshing as it slides down your throat, but it does nothing to ease the knot in your stomach. Yoongi watches you quietly, one hand resting on your bare thigh, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your skin.

When you lower the glass, he asks, voice tentative and softer than usual, “You okay?”

You force a small smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah… of course. It felt really good. You always fuck me so good, Yoongi.”

The lie slips out easily enough, but your voice sounds a little too bright, a little too rehearsed. For a split second, you swear something flickers across his face— those sharp eyes narrowing just a fraction, lips parting like he might say more. Your heart stutters. He knows. He has to know.

But he doesn’t push.

Instead, Yoongi lets out a slow, quiet sigh, running his fingers through his damp black hair, pushing it back from his forehead. The motion makes the muscles in his arm flex subtly in the low light. He nods once, almost to himself, then swings his legs onto the bed and lies down beside you.

“Come here,” he says gently, reaching for you. You let him pull you against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapping securely around your waist. His skin is still warm, heart beating steady and slow beneath your cheek. He smells like sex and sweat and that familiar cologne, and for a moment the closeness makes the ache in your chest ease just a little.

“I love you,” he whispers into the darkness, lips brushing the top of your head.

Your throat tightens. “I love you too.”

He reaches over with his free hand and clicks off the bedside lamp. The room plunges into complete darkness, broken only by the faint moonlight seeping through the curtains. Yoongi’s breathing gradually slows, becoming deep and even as sleep claims him. His body relaxes completely against yours, arm heavy and comforting around you.

But sleep doesn’t come for you.

You lie there wide awake, eyes open in the dark, listening to the quiet rhythm of his breaths. The fan continues its lazy spin overhead. Every time you close your eyes, you replay the scene: your fake moans, the way you performed for him, the single low grunt he gave when he came. The insecurity gnaws at you, sharper now in the silence. You feel raw and exposed, even though he’s holding you so tenderly.

Hours seem to pass. The glass of water sits forgotten on the nightstand, condensation pooling beneath it. Your mind races in circles— wondering if he really bought the lie, if he’s truly satisfied, if something is wrong with the way you make him feel. Yoongi sleeps soundly beside you, completely unaware, while you stare at the ceiling again, the weight of your doubts pressing heavier with every passing minute.

The next afternoon, sunlight filters through the large café windows, casting warm golden patches across the wooden table. The scent of fresh coffee and sweet pastries hangs in the air, mingling with the low hum of conversations and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. You’re seated across from Wonyoung in a cozy corner booth, both of you cradling warm lattes in your hands. She looks effortlessly pretty as always, long hair cascading over one shoulder, a soft pink sweater making her glow in the natural light.

You’ve been stirring your drink absentmindedly for the past ten minutes, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic mug. The conversation started light, but you finally let it spill, the thing that’s been weighing on your chest since last night.

“So… things with Yoongi have been good, really good,” you say, voice quieter than usual. “But… during sex… he’s just so quiet. Like, almost completely silent. I mean, he’ll give a little grunt here and there, or this low groan when he pushes in deeper, and that’s basically it. Even when he cums, it’s just one low sound. Nothing more.”

You take a small sip of your latte, the warmth doing little to ease the knot in your stomach. “It feels amazing physically, he always makes sure I cum, he knows exactly what he’s doing. But I keep getting stuck in my head about it. Last night… I actually started faking it. The moans, the way I moved, everything. I felt so stupid afterward, lying there while he held me and told me he loved me. I couldn’t even sleep.”

Wonyoung’s eyes widen slightly, her perfectly shaped brows furrowing in concern. She sets her mug down and leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “Oh, honey… that sounds really tough. Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You shake your head quickly, fingers tightening around the handle of your mug. “No… I’m scared. What if I don’t like his answer? What if he tells me he doesn’t find me sexy anymore, or that the spark is gone for him? What if he’s just going through the motions because he feels obligated? I don’t think I could handle hearing that.”

Your voice cracks a little on the last part, and you look down at the foam art slowly dissolving in your coffee. The café suddenly feels too bright, too exposed. You can still feel the ghost of Yoongi’s quiet body against yours from last night, the way he fell asleep so easily while you stared at the ceiling for hours.

Wonyoung reaches across the table and gently squeezes your hand. “I get it. That fear is valid. But bottling it up is only going to make it worse. You two are so good together, communication is important, especially about something this intimate. Maybe there’s a reason he’s quiet. Or maybe he doesn’t even realize how much it’s affecting you.”

You nod slowly, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah… maybe. It’s just… Yoongi always been this quiet, from the very beginning. I didn’t really think much of it at first because everything else felt so intense. But then you told me about you and your boyfriend, how vocal he gets, the way he moans your name, how he tells you how good you feel… I don’t know, it made me realize how different it is with Yoongi. I started craving that too. I want to hear him. I want to know I’m making him feel as crazy as he makes me feel.”

Wonyoung gives you a soft, understanding smile, tilting her head slightly. “I remember telling you those stories. And yeah, my boyfriend is loud in bed— it’s hot, it makes me feel desired. But Yoongi… he’s always been a quiet guy overall, right? In everyday life too. He speaks when he has something important to say, but he’s not the type to fill the silence just to fill it. Maybe during sex he’s the same, maybe he just processes pleasure differently. Still… you should talk to him. Even if it’s scary. Tell him how it makes you feel without accusing him. Something like, ‘I love being with you, but I’ve been feeling a little insecure because you’re so quiet, and I want to know if you’re enjoying it as much as I am.’”

You let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping as you trace the rim of your mug with your fingertip. “You’re right… I know you’re right. It’s just terrifying. What if talking about it makes things awkward? Or worse, what if he confirms my fears?”

She squeezes your hand again, her touch warm and reassuring. “And what if he doesn’t? What if he opens up and you both end up even closer because of it? You won’t know until you try. You deserve to feel confident and wanted in every way.”

You manage a small, grateful smile, even though your chest still feels tight with uncertainty. “Thank you for listening. I really needed this.”

The two of you finish your coffees slowly, the conversation drifting to lighter topics— work, a new drama you both started watching, Wonyoung’s latest shopping haul. But your mind keeps circling back to Yoongi, to the quiet of last night, to the conversation you know you probably need to have.

When it’s time to leave, you both stand and gather your things. Outside the café, the spring air is mild and fresh, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers from the nearby park. You pull Wonyoung into a tight hug, breathing in her familiar perfume.

“Thank you again,” you murmur against her shoulder. “For the advice… and for not making me feel crazy.”

She hugs you back just as tightly, rubbing your back gently. “Anytime. Text me later if you need more pep talks, okay? You’ve got this. Just be honest with him.”

You nod as you pull away, offering her one last smile before turning to head home. The walk back feels longer than usual, your steps slow on the sidewalk as the weight of her words settles over you. The sun is warm on your skin, but inside you’re still torn— part of you wanting to listen to her encouragement, the other part terrified of what Yoongi’s answer might be. By the time you reach your apartment door, your heart is already beating a little faster at the thought of seeing him again tonight.

-

That evening, you chicken out completely.

The conversation with Wonyoung plays on repeat in your head the whole walk home, but the moment you step through the apartment door and see Yoongi already there— barefoot in the kitchen, stirring something that smells like garlic and soy sauce, the words die in your throat. He glances up at you with that soft, small smile he reserves mostly for you, black hair falling slightly into his eyes, and your resolve crumbles. Not tonight. You’ll talk to him tomorrow. Or the day after. Just… not right now.

Instead, you both settle into a quiet movie night.

The living room is dimly lit by the glow of the TV screen and a single lamp in the corner. The couch is piled with soft blankets and pillows, the faint scent of buttered popcorn still lingering in the air from the bowl now sitting empty on the coffee table. Yoongi sits in his usual spot, legs stretched out, one arm draped casually around your shoulders as you curl into his side. Your head rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear, his body warm and solid through the thin black t-shirt he’s wearing.

For a few blissful hours, the sex issue fades into the background.

You laugh together at the ridiculous comedy on screen, his low chuckle vibrating through his chest whenever something genuinely funny happens. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, occasionally brushing through your hair in that absentminded way that always makes you feel safe. You steal glances at his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks when he blinks, the subtle curve of his lips when he smirks at a joke. For once, your mind is quiet. No overthinking. No insecurity. Just the simple comfort of being wrapped up in your boyfriend, the two of you tangled together like you belong there.

As the movie credits start to roll and the second film begins autoplaying, the comfortable haze starts to shift. The room feels cozier now, warmer. The blanket draped over both of you traps heat between your bodies. You become hyper-aware of how close you are, his thigh pressed against yours, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the fabric softener on his shirt. Looking up at his face in the flickering light of the TV, something stirs in your chest. His expression is relaxed, peaceful, those dark eyes reflecting the screen. A sudden, sharp wave of want washes over you. You want him. Not just the quiet, controlled version from last night, but something more. You want to climb into his lap, feel his hands on you, lose yourself in him again— but this time without the doubts.

Maybe you were just being paranoid, you tell yourself. Maybe Wonyoung was right and he’s simply a quiet person in every aspect of life. Maybe last night was a fluke, and if you initiate tonight, it’ll be different. Better. You could make him feel good enough that he finally lets go.

The decision settles in your mind, warm and impulsive.

You shift slightly, turning your body toward him. Your lips find the side of his neck first— soft, slow kisses pressed just below his ear, where you know he’s sensitive. His skin is warm, slightly salty from the long day, and you breathe him in as you trail kisses down the column of his throat. One hand slides up under his shirt, palm gliding over the smooth planes of his chest, feeling the faint ridges of muscle and the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Yoongi’s breath catches for just a second. He turns his head toward you, and a small smile tugs at his lips.

But the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s something off about it, too tight at the corners, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze before it smooths out. It’s odd, a tiny detail that nags at the back of your mind, but you push it aside. You’re already too far gone in the moment, desire overriding caution.

Encouraged, you let your hand drift lower, sliding down his stomach until your palm presses over the front of his sweatpants. He’s half-hard already, and you rub him slowly through the fabric, feeling him twitch and thicken under your touch. A few firm strokes, your fingers tracing the outline of him as you continue kissing and gently sucking at his neck, leaving faint marks that will probably fade by morning.

For a moment, it feels promising. His body responds, hips shifting ever so slightly under your hand.

Then he moves.

Yoongi lets out a quiet sigh, long and heavy, the kind that carries weight. He sits up straighter, gently but firmly catching your wrist to stop your movements. His other hand runs through his black hair, pushing it back from his forehead, then drags down over his face, rubbing at his eyes and the bridge of his nose like he’s suddenly exhausted or stressed. The TV light flickers across his features, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

You pull back, staring up at him in confusion, your hand still hovering where he stopped it. The warmth that had been building in your belly cools rapidly. “Yoongi…?” Your voice comes out softer than you intended, laced with uncertainty.

He doesn’t look at you right away. His gaze is fixed somewhere toward the TV, shoulders slightly slumped. The comfortable cocoon of the movie night suddenly feels fragile, like it could crack at any second. The blanket slips down to your laps as the distance between you grows, even though you’re still sitting right next to each other. Your heart starts to pick up speed, that familiar knot of insecurity creeping back in, stronger than before.

The room is quiet except for the low dialogue still playing from the movie, but the easy laughter from earlier is long gone. The silence stretches between you like a taut string, ready to snap.

Yoongi sits there on the couch, still slightly leaned forward, one hand lingering over his face as if he’s trying to wipe away whatever thought just crossed his mind. The TV continues playing in the background, the low murmur of dialogue and soft soundtrack now feeling intrusive instead of comforting. The air in the living room suddenly feels cooler, heavier. Your heart hammers in your chest, the earlier warmth of desire replaced by a sharp, anxious flutter.

You can’t take the quiet anymore. “Do you… not think I’m sexy?” The question slips out in the middle of the silence, small and fragile, barely louder than a whisper. Your voice cracks on the last word, and you hate how vulnerable it sounds.

Yoongi’s head snaps toward you instantly. His dark eyes widen, the relaxed expression from the movie night completely gone. For a second he just stares at you, like the words don’t compute. “What the hell?” he says, voice low but sharp with disbelief. “Why would you even think that?”

The intensity in his gaze makes your stomach twist. You look down at your hands, fingers twisting together in your lap, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. The confession starts pouring out, slow and halting at first, then gaining momentum as the insecurities you’ve been carrying finally break free.

“Because you’re so quiet during sex, Yoongi,” you say, voice trembling slightly. “You barely make any sounds at all. Just… a grunt sometimes, or that one low groan when you cum. That’s it. Nothing else. We never really switch positions much either, you stay on top, controlled, like you’re holding back the whole time. It always feels good physically. Really good. You know exactly what to do and I cum almost every time… but lately I keep getting stuck in my head. I start wondering if there’s something wrong with me. If I’m not doing enough, or if I don’t turn you on the way I used to. If maybe you’re just… going through the motions.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, swallowing hard. The words hang in the air, raw and exposed. You feel stripped bare, sitting there in the dim glow of the TV, the cozy movie night now feeling miles away.

Yoongi lets out a deep, heavy sigh. “Fuck…” he mumbles under his breath, the curse quiet but laced with frustration, not at you, but at the situation. He runs both hands through his hair, messing it up further, then drops them to his lap. For a moment he just sits there, shoulders tense. Then he shifts closer and sits fully beside you again, the couch dipping under his weight. His thigh presses against yours, warm and solid, but he doesn’t reach for you yet. He’s silent for another long second, eyes fixed on the floor in front of him, jaw tight. The pause feels endless, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Then he speaks, voice low and careful. “Was that why you faked it last night?”

Your breath catches. You turn to look at him, eyes wide with shock. “You… you knew?”

Yoongi nods slowly, still not quite looking at you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a heaviness in it now. “Yeah. I could tell.” He pauses, swallowing. “I know your body. I know the way you sound when it’s real, the little hitch in your breath, the way your thighs shake, how your voice gets all breathy and broken. That wasn’t it. Not even close.”

He finally turns his head to face you fully, those sharp, dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten. “Why did you do it?”

The question is gentle, but it still lands like a weight. You feel heat rush to your face, a mix of embarrassment and relief that he noticed, that he cared enough to pay attention. Your fingers fidget with the edge of the blanket as you answer, voice barely above a whisper at first.

“Because I go into my head about it… about how silent you are when you’re fucking me. It makes me think I’m not affecting you the way you affect me. That maybe it doesn’t feel as good for you, or that you’re not really lost in it. So last night I just… performed. I faked the moans and the movements because I didn’t want you to know I was doubting. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

The confession leaves you feeling drained, exposed. The room is quieter now, the movie long forgotten in the background. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen, the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Yoongi’s presence beside you is steady, but the air between you crackles with everything unsaid.

He doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, eyes never leaving your face, that deep sigh from earlier still lingering in the way his shoulders remain slightly hunched. Your heart is still racing, cheeks warm with the vulnerability of having finally said it all out loud. You feel raw, like you’ve peeled back a layer of yourself and handed it to him.

Yoongi doesn’t speak right away.

Instead, he leans in slowly, one hand gently cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushes tenderly over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. Then his lips meet yours in a slow, gentle kiss. It’s soft at first— barely more than a press of warmth, then deepens just enough to feel reassuring. His mouth moves against yours with quiet care, tasting faintly of the popcorn from earlier and the familiar comfort of him. There’s no rush, no demand, just the steady reassurance of his lips and the way his fingers thread lightly into your hair.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests gently against yours, breath mingling warmly between you. His eyes are closed for a moment, silver lashes brushing his cheeks, before they open again, dark and earnest. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers, voice low and rough with emotion. The apology settles over you like a warm blanket, sincere and heavy.

He stays close, forehead still pressed to yours, sharing the same air. “You’re the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever seen,” he continues, the words coming out quieter than usual, but no less intense. “I’ve never once not been satisfied with you. Not even close. Every single time… you drive me crazy.”

Then he pulls back just enough to look at you properly. A faint blush creeps across his pale cheeks, coloring the tips of his ears pink. He glances away for a second, toward the darkened TV screen, as if the admission costs him something. His fingers twitch where they rest on your thigh, like he’s fighting the urge to hide.

“I’ve been holding myself back,” he admits, voice dropping even lower, almost shy. “Because… I get embarrassed. I don’t know why exactly, but if I fully let go… if I let myself indulge in you the way I want to… I was scared you wouldn’t like it. That you’d think it was too much. Too loud. Too intense. That it would change how you see me.”

The confession hangs between you, surprising in its honesty. Yoongi, usually so composed, so in control, looks almost vulnerable sitting there with that soft blush and averted gaze. It makes your chest tighten with affection and a rush of heat at the same time. You let out a low, soft laugh, the sound gentle and warm in the quiet room. It’s not mocking; it’s full of fondness and relief. You reach up, gently turning his face back toward you with your fingertips on his jaw.

“Yoongi…” you murmur, smiling softly as you look into his eyes. “You are the hottest, sexiest man I’ve ever been with. Seriously. Nothing about you letting go could ever be ‘too much’ for me. I want it. I want to hear you. I want to feel how much I affect you. All of it.”

You take his hand in yours, fingers intertwining slowly. His palm is warm, slightly calloused from years of playing instruments and producing late into the night. You give it a gentle squeeze, thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“Do you want to try?” you ask softly, voice barely above a whisper, but full of quiet hope. “Right now?”

He looks at you for a long moment, eyes searching yours. The blush on his cheeks deepens just a fraction, but then he nods— slow, deliberate, decisive. “Yeah,” he breathes. His voice has shifted, gaining a new edge of determination beneath the softness. “I’m going to show you just how much you affect me.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. There’s a promise in them, dark and heated, wrapped in that familiar low tone of his. The air between you thickens instantly, the earlier tension transforming into something electric and anticipatory. Yoongi’s hand tightens around yours, his thumb stroking once over your skin before he leans in again, closer this time, lips hovering just inches from yours.

The living room feels smaller, warmer, the forgotten movie long irrelevant. All that matters now is the way he’s looking at you— like he’s finally allowing himself to unravel, just for you. He leans in and captures your lips again, but this kiss is different from the gentle one moments ago. It starts slow, almost reverent, his mouth moving against yours with deliberate care. Then it deepens. His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he tilts his head and kisses you harder, tongue brushing against the seam of your lips, asking for entry.

You open for him instantly.

The kiss turns heavy, hungry. His tongue slides against yours, slow and thorough, tasting you like he’s trying to memorize every inch. A low, barely audible hum vibrates from his chest into your mouth— the first real sound he’s let slip tonight that isn’t guarded. His lips are soft but insistent, sucking gently on your lower lip before diving back in, the wet slide of tongue and shared breath making your head spin.

Your hands come up to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his black t-shirt as you kiss him back with everything you’ve been holding in. The earlier insecurity melts away under the heat of his mouth, replaced by a growing ache low in your belly. He kisses like he’s pouring years of restraint into this one moment— deep, consuming, and just a little desperate. Without breaking the kiss, Yoongi leans back against the couch cushions, pulling you with him. You follow eagerly, shifting until you’re sliding into his lap, knees settling on either side of his thighs. The position brings your bodies flush together, your chest pressed to his, the heat of him radiating through his thin shirt. His hands settle on your hips, gripping firmly as he tugs you closer, encouraging you to settle your weight fully on him.

You can already feel him hardening beneath you, the thick length of his cock pressing up against your core through the layers of fabric. It sends a spark of arousal through you, sharp and insistent.

Your fingers slide up into his black hair, threading through the soft strands. At first you just hold on, but as the kiss grows more heated— tongues tangling, breaths coming faster— you tighten your grip and pull. A low, broken groan escapes Yoongi’s throat. The sound is deep and raspy, vibrating against your lips. It’s not the restrained grunt you’re used to, it’s raw, involuntary, and it shoots straight to your core. You tug again, a little harder this time, nails lightly scraping his scalp, and another groan follows, louder this time, his hips twitching up into you instinctively.

“Fuck…” he breathes against your mouth, the curse muffled but unmistakable. His voice is already rougher, lower, the composure cracking. He kisses you even more desperately now, one hand sliding up your back under your shirt, palm hot against your bare skin, while the other stays anchored on your hip, guiding you to rock slowly against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. The friction is delicious, sending little waves of pleasure through you with every grind.

Yoongi’s breathing has grown heavier, no longer perfectly controlled. Each exhale comes with a quiet, shaky sound, half groan, half sigh as you continue to pull at his hair and roll your hips. His mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, then down to your neck, sucking and biting softly, leaving faint marks that make you shiver.

You can feel the tension in his body, the way his thighs are tight beneath you, the subtle tremor in his hands as he touches you. He’s letting go, piece by piece, and the sounds he’s starting to make— those low, gravelly groans that rumble from deep in his chest are everything you’ve been craving.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips swollen and wet, eyes dark with lust and something deeper. His hair is already messy from your fingers, falling into his eyes in a way that makes him look devastatingly attractive. “See what you do to me?” he murmurs, voice husky and strained. Another soft groan slips out when you roll your hips again. “This is just the start, baby.”

You roll your hips again, slower this time, dragging your core along the thick ridge of his cock through his sweatpants. The friction is perfect— hot, teasing, not enough and yet almost too much. A shaky breath leaves Yoongi’s lips, and this time it’s accompanied by a low, rumbling groan that vibrates straight through his chest and into yours. “Shit…” he mutters against your neck, the word barely formed but heavy with need. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in as he guides you into another slow grind. "Feels good."

The praise hits you like a spark. You’ve never heard him talk like this during sex— never heard him say much of anything and it makes heat flood between your legs. You pull harder on his hair, tugging his head back slightly so you can look at his face. His eyes are half-lidded, dark and glossy, lips parted as another quiet groan slips out when you circle your hips just right.

You love it. You love every single sound he’s letting escape. Encouraged, you start moving with more purpose, rolling your hips in deep, deliberate waves, pressing down harder so the seam of your pants rubs right against his length. Each grind makes his cock twitch beneath you, growing fuller and harder until he’s rock-solid and straining against the fabric. The heat of him radiates through the layers, and you can feel yourself getting wetter, slickness starting to soak through your own panties.

Yoongi’s head falls back against the couch cushion, exposing the long line of his throat. Another groan tears from him— deeper, rougher, this time when you drag your clit along his cock again. “Fuck, baby… keep doing that,” he breathes, voice husky and strained. His usual composure is cracking wider with every roll of your hips. “You’re gonna make me lose it right here.”

You whimper at his words, the sound genuine and needy, and grind down harder, chasing the building pressure. Your hands stay buried in his hair, pulling and tugging in time with your movements, and every little yank draws another sound from him— a low curse, a broken groan, a shaky exhale that sounds almost like a whine. He’s talking more now, the words spilling out between heavy breaths as his restraint unravels.

“You have no idea… how much I want you,” he rasps, hips bucking up to meet your grind. “Every time I’m inside you I have to hold back so I don’t sound like a fucking mess…you feel too good.”

His hands slide up under your shirt, palms hot and greedy as they roam over your bare back, then down to squeeze your ass, pulling you even tighter against him. The new angle makes his clothed cock press right against your clit with every roll, sending sharp sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. You moan softly, real and unrestrained, and Yoongi responds with a deep, guttural sound that makes your walls clench around nothing.

“Yeah… just like that,” he murmurs, voice dropping even lower. “Let me hear you too, baby. Don’t hold back for me.” You grind faster, more desperately, the couch creaking softly beneath you both. The fabric between you is starting to feel like too much, too many layers keeping you from what you really want. Sweat is already beading along Yoongi’s hairline, his hair sticking to his forehead in messy strands. His chest rises and falls quicker now, breaths coming in short, ragged pants punctuated by those beautiful, broken groans every time you drag your hips over him just right.

You lean down and kiss him again, messy, open-mouthed, tongues sliding hotly together. He groans into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips as his hips jerk up involuntarily, chasing more friction. One of his hands leaves your ass to slide between your bodies, pressing firmly over your core through your pants, rubbing in tight circles that match your grinding rhythm. “God, you’re so wet already,” he mutters against your mouth, voice thick with awe and lust. “All this just from grinding on me? Fuck… I did this to you?”

You nod frantically, pulling his hair again as another needy sound escapes him. You’re loving every second of it, the way his voice is getting raspier, the way he’s starting to talk dirty in that low, gravelly tone, the way his usual quiet control is shattering because of you. “Yoongi…” you whine, grinding down hard, “I love hearing you like this. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He lets out a shaky laugh that turns into a groan when you tug his hair particularly hard. His hips buck up sharply, pressing his cock right against your clit. The grinding has turned desperate, both of you breathing hard and chasing friction like you can’t get close enough. Yoongi’s hands are gripping your hips tightly, guiding every roll of your body against his, his cock rock-hard and throbbing beneath you

Then he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and glassy with lust. His voice comes out rough, almost pleading. “Ride me,” he says, the words thick and heavy. “Please, baby… I need you to ride me.”

Your heart stutters. You’ve never ridden him before. Almost every time you’ve had sex it’s been missionary— him on top, controlled and steady, quiet and composed. The idea of being on top, of taking him like this, makes nervous butterflies erupt in your stomach. But the way he’s looking at you, the raw need in his voice, the way his hands tremble slightly on your hips… you can’t say no. You nod, voice barely a whisper. “Okay… yeah.”

Relief and hunger flash across his face. Yoongi moves quickly but carefully, helping you peel off your shirt and bra, his hands warm and eager as they slide over your skin. He tugs your pants and panties down your legs, lifting you slightly so he can yank them off completely. You do the same for him, pulling his t-shirt over his head, exposing the lean, toned lines of his chest and stomach, then helping him shove his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip, hard and curving slightly upward.

You’re both completely bare now, skin hot and flushed in the dim light of the living room. Yoongi leans back against the couch again, one hand wrapping around the base of his cock, holding it steady for you. His other hand rests on your thigh, thumb stroking soothing circles. You swing one leg over his lap fully, straddling him. Your hands find the back of the couch on either side of his head, gripping the cushions for balance. Slowly, you lower yourself, the head of his cock brushing against your slick folds. You’re so wet from all the grinding that it glides easily at first, but as you start to sink down, the stretch hits you.

Yoongi is big— thicker and longer than you sometimes remember in the heat of the moment. You pause halfway, breathing shakily as you adjust to his size, walls fluttering around him. The fullness is intense, almost overwhelming in this new position. A broken, needy sound escapes Yoongi the moment you start sliding down. “Fuck… oh my god,” he groans, low and guttural, head tipping back against the couch. His eyes squeeze shut for a second, lips parting as another deep moan rumbles from his chest. “You’re so tight… so fucking wet around me.”

He sounds completely gone already— pussy whipped in the best way. The usually quiet, controlled Yoongi is unraveling right beneath you, and you haven’t even taken all of him yet. You sink lower, taking another inch, and his hips twitch up instinctively. “Shit— baby, you feel incredible,” he rasps, voice strained and hoarse. His hands fly to your waist, not pushing, just holding on like he needs the anchor. “So good… taking me so well. Look at you…”

Another long, shaky groan leaves him when you finally bottom out, your ass flush against his thighs, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. His breathing is ragged now, chest rising and falling rapidly. You can feel him throbbing deep inside, hot and heavy, stretching you perfectly. “Fuck… I’ve wanted this,” he confesses, the words tumbling out between heavy breaths. “Wanted to see you on top of me like this… wanted to feel you ride me. You’re so sexy, baby. So fucking sexy.”

You stay still for a moment, hands gripping the back of the couch tightly, adjusting to the new angle and the overwhelming fullness. Every little shift of your hips makes him groan again, loud, unrestrained sounds that go straight to your core. Yoongi looks utterly wrecked already: eyes half-lidded and dark with lust, mouth open as more soft, desperate noises fall from his lips.

He’s never been this vocal, never this lost in it, and the sight of him like this— because of you—makes heat coil tight in your belly. You love it. You love how he can’t hold back the sounds anymore, how every tiny movement from you pulls another moan or curse from him. Yoongi’s hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts as he looks up at you with pure reverence.

“Whenever you’re ready… babe,” he murmurs, voice husky and pleading again. “Please. I need to feel you move.”

You take a shaky breath, hands gripping the back of the couch tighter as you adjust to the deep, full stretch of him inside you. Yoongi’s cock feels even bigger in this position— thick and hot, pressing against every sensitive spot with no escape. The fullness is overwhelming in the best way, sending little sparks of pleasure radiating through your core with every tiny shift of your hips. Slowly, you begin to move.

You rise up carefully, feeling every inch of him drag along your walls as you lift until only the head remains inside you. The stretch when you sink back down is incredible, slow, deliberate, and devastating. You let yourself fall fully onto his cock, taking him to the hilt in one smooth drop. A soft, breathy moan escapes your own lips at the sensation, but it’s nothing compared to the sound that rips from Yoongi. “Fuuuck…” he groans, long and deep, the word breaking at the end. His head falls back against the couch again, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers dig into your waist. “Baby… just like that. God, you feel so good sliding down on me.”

The praise makes your stomach flutter. You repeat the motion— rising slowly, savoring the drag, then letting gravity pull you back down, impaling yourself on his thick length. Each time you bottom out, his cock nudges deep inside you, pressing right against that spot that makes your thighs tremble. The wet, obscene sound of your bodies meeting fills the quiet living room, mixing with the growing chorus of his sounds.

Yoongi’s hands slide from your waist down to find yours. He laces your fingers together, gripping both of your hands firmly in his. His palms are warm and slightly sweaty, thumbs stroking over the backs of your hands in a grounding rhythm even as his breathing grows more ragged.

You hold onto him like that, hands clasped tightly as you start to find a steady pace. Up and down, rolling your hips in a smooth, sensual rhythm that has pleasure building low in your belly. Every rise lets you feel the thick drag of him leaving you, every fall lets you feel the delicious stretch as he fills you completely again. The angle is perfect; his cock rubs against your front wall with every movement, and when you grind down at the bottom of each stroke, your clit presses against his pubic bone, sending sharp bursts of ecstasy through you. Yoongi’s groans grow louder, less controlled. “Shit… yes,” he rasps, squeezing your hands harder. “Ride me just like that. You’re taking me so deep… fuck, I can feel every inch of you.”

His hips start to buck up gently to meet your downward strokes, not taking over but adding to the rhythm, driving him even deeper. The new pressure makes stars burst behind your eyelids. You both moan together, your sounds mixing with his deeper, rougher ones. He’s completely lost in it now, no longer holding anything back. “Look at you…” he breathes, voice husky and reverent. His eyes are open again, locked on where your bodies connect, watching his cock disappear inside you with every fall.

You squeeze his hands tighter, using the leverage to bounce a little harder, finding a pace that has you both seeing stars. The couch creaks softly beneath you with every movement. Sweat beads on Yoongi’s chest, making his skin glisten in the low light, he looks up at you with dark, blown-out eyes. Every time you sink down, he lets out a broken groan or a whispered curse. “Right there— fuck, baby, right there…” When you rise up slowly, dragging along his length, he whines softly, the sound so needy it makes your walls clench around him. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop.”

You’re both panting now, the pace steady but building— rising and falling, grinding at the bottom of each stroke, hands clasped tightly together like an anchor. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core, the stretch and fullness combined with the new freedom of being on top making everything feel more intense. Yoongi’s sounds keep feeding your own arousal, each groan and rasp pushing you closer to the edge. He squeezes your hands again, thumbs stroking desperately over your skin. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep going like this,” he admits, voice strained and raw. “But don’t you dare slow down… I want to feel you fall apart on me first.”

You lean down slightly, lips brushing near his ear as you breathe out, voice soft but teasing, “Just like that, baby?” The words have an immediate effect. Yoongi’s eyes snap open wider, a low, guttural growl rumbling from deep in his chest. The sound is primal, nothing like the quiet grunts you’re used to. His fingers tighten around yours for a second before he suddenly releases your hands. Instead, his palms slide down to grip your hips firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh with clear intent.

“Fuck yes… just like that,” he growls, voice rough and strained.

Before you can react, he plants his feet on the floor and starts thrusting up into you from below. The change is sudden and powerful— his hips snapping upward hard, driving his cock deep inside you with each powerful stroke. The new pace makes you bounce on his lap, breasts jiggling with every impact. The wet slap of skin against skin grows louder, echoing in the living room as he pounds into you relentlessly. You gasp sharply, hands flying to the back of the couch again for balance as he fucks you from below. Each thrust is deep and precise, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over. The stretch feels even more intense now, your walls clenching around him with every forceful plunge.

Emboldened by his reaction, you keep talking, voice breaking with every hard thrust. “How does my pussy feel?” you ask breathlessly, the dirty words spilling out before you can overthink them. “Tell me, Yoongi… does it feel good?”

Another deep, animalistic growl tears from his throat. His grip on your hips tightens almost bruisingly as he pulls you down to meet his upward thrusts, impaling you harder on his cock. The pace turns punishing— fast, deep, desperate. The couch creaks loudly beneath you both from the force of his movements. “So fucking good,” he snarls, voice low and gravelly, eyes locked on yours with raw hunger. “Your pussy is so tight… so wet… sucking me in like it was made for me. Fuck— I’ve never felt anything this good.”

He punctuates his words with sharper thrusts, hips snapping up brutally. Each powerful stroke makes your head spin, pleasure crashing through you in waves. You can feel how deep he is, how perfectly he fills you, the slick sounds growing wetter and messier as you drip around his cock.

Yoongi’s breathing is ragged, mixed with constant growls and broken moans. “Keep talking to me, baby,” he demands, voice hoarse. “Tell me more… I want to hear you.”

You moan loudly, the sound genuine and unrestrained as he continues pounding into you from below. His hands guide your hips to meet his thrusts, the rhythm relentless. Sweat slicks both of your skins, making your bodies slide together hotly. His silver hair is completely damp now, sticking to his forehead, and his face is flushed with exertion and lust. You ride the wave of his thrusts, letting him take control from below while you still set the angle. “You’re so deep like this,” you gasp, voice trembling. “I can feel you everywhere… you’re gonna make me cum if you keep fucking me like this.”

Yoongi lets out another feral growl, hips stuttering for a moment before he doubles down, thrusting even harder. One of his hands slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing hard as he pulls you down onto his cock with every upward snap.

“Yeah? You like when I pound into you like this?” he rasps, eyes dark and wild. “My baby talking dirty now… fuck, it’s driving me insane.” The new dynamic has you both spiraling, your words pulling more sounds and filthy confessions from him, his powerful thrusts from below making stars explode behind your eyes. The pleasure is building fast and intense, your walls fluttering around his thick length with every brutal stroke. Yoongi looks completely lost in you, growling and groaning with every thrust, no longer holding back even a single sound.

Yoongi’s grip on your ass is bruising as he uses it for leverage, pulling you down onto his cock with every powerful upward thrust. He’s pounding into you from below with relentless force now, hips snapping up hard and fast, driving his thick length deep inside you over and over. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping against skin fills the living room, mixing with his low, animalistic growls and your broken moans.

One of his hands stays firmly on your ass, squeezing and spreading you as he fucks up into you, while the other slides up your back, fingers digging into your skin. Every brutal stroke hits that perfect spot inside you, the angle making his cock rub against your front wall relentlessly. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core, winding like a spring ready to snap. “Yoongi—fuck, I’m—” Your voice breaks as the orgasm crashes over you without warning.

Your entire body jolts violently on top of him. Your walls clamp down hard around his cock, pulsing and fluttering as waves of intense pleasure rip through you. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, toes curling, back arching sharply as you cry out. Bright sparks explode behind your eyelids. You grind down desperately against him, riding out every pulse, your slickness gushing around his length as you cum hard on his cock.

Yoongi groans loudly at the feeling, a deep, wrecked sound that vibrates through his chest, but he doesn’t let himself follow you over the edge. His thrusts slow just enough to help you ride it out, but his cock stays rock-hard and throbbing inside you, denying his own release.

The moment your shaking starts to ease, he moves.

In one swift, fluid motion, Yoongi pulls out of you, leaving you feeling devastatingly empty. You barely have time to whimper at the loss before he’s manhandling you with surprising strength. He flips you over the arm of the couch, bending you forward so your chest and stomach press against the soft cushions while your ass is raised high for him. Your knees sink into the seat, legs spread wide.

You gasp sharply as he grabs both of your arms, pulling them behind your back and pinning them there with one strong hand. The position leaves you completely exposed and at his mercy, breasts squished against the couch, cheek resting on the cushion.

Yoongi doesn’t give you a second to adjust.

He slams back into you in one hard, deep thrust, burying his cock to the hilt in your still-spasming pussy. The new angle is even deeper, stretching you wide and making your eyes roll back. A loud, broken moan tears from your throat at the sudden fullness. Then he starts fucking you hard and fast. His hips snap forward with brutal precision, pounding into you from behind like he’s lost all control. The sound of his pelvis slapping against your ass is loud and obscene, echoing through the room. Each powerful thrust rocks your entire body forward, the arm of the couch digging into your stomach as he rails you relentlessly.

“Fuck— yes,” he growls, voice rough and feral. His free hand grips your hip tightly, using it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock with every stroke. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Me losing control… fucking you like this.”

You love it. You love every second of it.

The way he has your arms pinned behind your back makes you feel deliciously helpless, completely owned by him. Every hard thrust sends fresh sparks of pleasure shooting through you, your sensitive walls still fluttering from your orgasm. The new position hits even deeper, his cock dragging along every sensitive spot inside you. You’re moaning loudly, unrestrained, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts as much as you can in this trapped position.

Yoongi’s sounds are constant now— deep, guttural growls, broken groans, and filthy words spilling from his lips with every slam of his hips. “God, your pussy is gripping me so tight,” he rasps, pounding harder. “So fucking wet… you came so hard on me and you’re still this greedy for more?”

He leans over you, chest pressing against your back, lips brushing your ear as he fucks you even faster, building another orgasm dangerously quickly. You’re trembling, moaning into the cushion, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being taken so roughly, so desperately by him. Yoongi’s pace never falters— hard, fast, deep, his hand keeping your arms securely pinned while he claims you completely.

Yoongi is fucking you so hard that the entire couch shifts beneath you with every brutal thrust.

Your arms are still pinned behind your back by his strong grip, your body bent helplessly over the arm of the couch as he rails into you from behind. Each powerful snap of his hips drives his thick cock impossibly deep, the wet, obscene slap of skin against skin echoing loudly in the room. Your pussy is soaked, fluttering and clenching around him with every stroke, still sensitive from your first orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure has tipped over into something almost too intense — your moans have turned into broken sobs, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as your body jolts forward with every thrust.

“Fuck… you’re taking me so well,” Yoongi growls, voice rough and strained, but he doesn’t slow down. His hips piston into you relentlessly, the head of his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside you over and over. “Look at you… sobbing on my cock. So fucking pretty.”

He leans closer, chest pressed hot against your back, lips brushing your ear as he keeps pounding into you. “Tell me, baby… whose pussy is this?”

You can barely form words through the sobs and moans tearing from your throat. Every hard thrust knocks the breath out of you, making your voice come out shaky and wrecked. “It’s yours,” you sob, the words breaking apart. “It’s yours… only yours, Yoongi— ahh!”

The moment the confession leaves your lips, his free hand comes down hard on your ass in a sharp smack. The sting blooms hot across your skin, making you cry out louder. He doesn’t stop there, smack after smack lands on your ass, alternating cheeks, each one timed perfectly with a deep thrust. The pain mixes deliciously with the pleasure, sending sparks shooting straight to your core.

Your ass burns under his palm, but you push back against him desperately, craving more. You’re losing yourself completely— mind hazy, body trembling, tears streaming down your face as he claims you so thoroughly. Yoongi growls in approval, landing one particularly hard smack that makes your whole body jolt. “That’s right. This pussy is mine. Only mine. No one else gets to feel how tight and wet you get.”

Then he releases your arms only to slide his hand up and fist tightly into your hair. He yanks your head back firmly, arching your back deeper as he slams into you over and over and over. The angle is devastating — his cock drives even deeper, pounding that sensitive spot with brutal precision. The pull on your scalp sends fresh waves of pleasure-pain through you, making your sobs turn into high, broken whimpers.

“Fuck—yes, just like that,” he snarls, hips snapping relentlessly. “Take it. Take every fucking inch.”

You’re completely lost now, body shaking violently as another orgasm builds fast and unstoppable. Your walls flutter wildly around his cock, clenching down hard as the pleasure crests.

“I’m— I’m cumming— Yoongi!” you sob loudly, the words dissolving into a broken cry.

Your second orgasm hits you even harder than the first. Your entire body convulses, pussy spasming and gushing around his thick length as waves of intense ecstasy crash through you. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, vision blurring with tears, sobs tearing from your throat as you cum hard on his cock, soaking him and the couch beneath you.

Yoongi follows right behind you.

A deep, trembling groan rips from his chest as his hips stutter. He slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he cums hard, thick ropes of hot cum spilling deep inside you. His whole body trembles against your back, muscles locking up as he pulses and fills you completely. Low, broken sounds keep falling from his lips— raw, unrestrained groans and shaky curses as he rides out his orgasm, hips grinding shallowly against your ass to push every last drop into you.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are your combined heavy breathing and soft, lingering whimpers. Yoongi’s grip on your hair loosens gently, his hand sliding down to stroke your back soothingly even as his cock continues to twitch inside you. His body is still trembling slightly against yours, sweat-slicked chest pressed to your back, heart hammering wildly.

He stays buried deep, both of you panting and shaking in the aftermath, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy and electric in the air. His chest is still pressed to your back, heart pounding wildly against your skin. Then, slowly and carefully, he pulls out of you with a wet, slick sound. A soft whimper escapes your lips at the sudden emptiness and the gush of his cum that immediately starts leaking down your thighs.

Your body gives out completely.

You slump forward against the arm of the couch, completely spent, limbs heavy and boneless. Your cheek presses into the soft cushion, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Every muscle feels deliciously used— your thighs still quivering, your ass warm and stinging from his smacks, your pussy pulsing with the aftershocks of two intense orgasms. Tears of overwhelming pleasure still cling to your lashes, and your breathing comes in shaky, ragged gasps.

You hear Yoongi move behind you, his footsteps soft on the floor. He disappears for a moment, then returns with a warm, damp cloth. Gently, almost reverently, he cleans you up — wiping away the mess of your combined releases from between your thighs, along your folds, and down your legs with careful strokes. His touch is soothing now, completely different from the rough way he’d handled you just minutes ago. The warm cloth feels heavenly against your overheated skin.

When he’s done, he helps you shift off the arm of the couch and onto the cushions properly. You curl onto your side, still breathing hard, body limp and glowing. Yoongi grabs the glass of water from earlier (the one that had been forgotten on the coffee table) and refills it in the kitchen before coming back. He sits on the edge of the couch and carefully helps you sit up just enough to take a few slow sips. The cool water slides down your throat, soothing and refreshing.

You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as he sets the glass aside. Yoongi’s hair is a complete mess, damp strands sticking to his forehead. His cheeks are still flushed, chest rising and falling with deep breaths, but his expression has softened completely— those sharp eyes now warm and full of affection as he looks at you. “That was…” you start, voice hoarse and wrecked from all the moaning and sobbing. You swallow, a small, tired smile tugging at your lips. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

Yoongi lets out a soft, breathless laugh, the sound low and warm. He leans down and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, and finally to your lips— slow, gentle, and full of love. His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the last traces of tears. “Yeah,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice still a little raspy. “Me too, baby. Best I’ve ever had. Hands down.”

He kisses you again, deeper this time but still so tender, lips moving softly against yours like he’s pouring every ounce of his feelings into it. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed for a moment as he savors the closeness.

“I love you,” he whispers, the words quiet but heavy with meaning. “So much. And I’m sorry I held back for so long. I never want you to doubt how crazy you make me… how much you affect me.”

You smile tiredly, reaching up to thread your fingers through his messy hair. “I love you too. And I’m glad you finally let go. It was… everything.” Yoongi hums softly in agreement, shifting so he can lie down on the couch and pull you into his arms. He tucks you against his chest, one arm wrapped securely around your waist while his other hand strokes slow, soothing patterns up and down your back. His skin is still warm, heart beating steady beneath your ear now that the intensity has faded.

The living room is quiet again, the TV long forgotten, only the sound of your slowing breaths and the faint hum of the apartment filling the space. You feel safe, cherished, and thoroughly satisfied— the earlier insecurities completely washed away by the way he just proved exactly how much you mean to him. Yoongi presses another soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you close as you both come down together, bodies tangled and hearts even closer.

Kim Namjoon Namjoon is all about observation and perfection. The second the bedroom door clicks shut he’s pulling you against his chest, big hands sliding under your shirt like he’s memorizing every curve. “Tell me how you want me tonight, baby,” he murmurs in that deep voice that makes your knees weak. He’ll drop to his knees without hesitation, spreading your thighs wide and eating you like he’s studying your body for a thesis slow, deliberate licks, two thick fingers curling just right while his eyes stay locked on yours. He doesn’t stop until you’ve come at least twice, thighs shaking around his head, and only then does he let you pull him up, voice hoarse as he whispers, “Good girl… now let me feel you.”

Kim Seokjin Jin is playful but possessive as hell when it comes to your pleasure. He’ll pin you to the mattress with that handsome grin, kissing down your body while cracking soft jokes just to hear your breathy laugh turn into a moan. “My princess deserves to be spoiled, hm?” He takes his sweet time with his mouth tongue flicking, lips sucking, fingers teasing until you’re gripping his hair and begging. He loves the way you sound when you fall apart, so he’ll keep going, overstimulating you just enough to make your eyes roll back. Only after you’ve soaked his chin and are panting his name like a prayer does he finally slide inside you, groaning, “Fuck… you’re so pretty when you cum for me.”

Min Yoongi Yoongi is quiet intensity personified. He doesn’t need to say much he just lays you down gently, lips brushing your inner thighs while his dark eyes watch every twitch of your body. “Relax for me,” he rasps, voice gravelly from sleep or studio hours. His tongue is lazy but devastatingly precise, sucking your clit like he has all night (because he does). He’ll add fingers slowly, scissoring and curling until you’re arching off the bed, and he keeps that same unhurried pace even when you’re crying his name. He won’t touch himself until you’ve come undone at least three times, then he finally lets you pull him on top, murmuring against your lips, “That’s it… now you can have me.”

Jung Hoseok Hobi is sunshine even in bed, but the moment he senses you need him he turns into pure focused heat. He’ll kiss you stupid first, then slide down your body with that bright smile that never fades. “Wanna make you feel so good, baby,” he breathes before burying his face between your legs like it’s his favorite dance. His tongue moves in rhythms only he knows fast, then slow, then circling until your hips are grinding against his mouth. He moans into you the whole time, hands gripping your thighs like he’s scared you’ll disappear. He won’t stop until you’re shaking and seeing stars, and even then he’s still smiling when he finally slides in, whispering, “My turn to feel how wet you are for me.”

Park Jimin Jimin is the king of sensual eye contact. He’ll undress you slowly, kissing every inch of skin he reveals while whispering how beautiful you are. “Look at me,” he murmurs as he settles between your thighs, plush lips wrapping around your clit like it’s the only thing that matters. His fingers are magic gentle but firm, curling and stroking while he sucks and licks in perfect sync. He drinks in every moan, every flutter of your lashes, never once looking away. He’ll edge you sweetly, bringing you right to the brink and pulling back just to hear you whine his name, then finally letting you crash over the edge again and again. Only when you’re boneless and glowing does he let you touch him, voice shaking, “You first… always you first.”

Kim Taehyung Taehyung treats your pleasure like art. He’ll have you on your back, legs over his shoulders, while he kisses and bites marks into your inner thighs like he’s painting a masterpiece. “So pretty like this,” he growls in that deep voice, tongue diving in like he’s starving for you. He’s creative switching between long, slow licks and quick flicks, fingers joining in ways that make you see galaxies. He talks you through it the whole time, voice low and velvet, telling you exactly how you taste, how you clench around his fingers, how he could stay here forever. He doesn’t stop until you’ve come so many times you’re crying his name, then he finally lets you pull him up, kissing you deep as he slides home.

Jeon Jungkook Jungkook is eager but disciplined the golden maknae knows how to control himself when it comes to you. He’ll start by kissing you breathless, then work his way down with those big doe eyes full of hunger. “Wanna make you cum first, always,” he breathes before his mouth is on you, tongue flat and hungry, sucking and licking like he’s been dreaming about this. His hands are everywhere pinning your hips, spreading you wider, fingers pumping deep while he moans into your core. He’s competitive even here, determined to pull more orgasms from you than last time. Only after you’re a trembling, oversensitive mess does he finally let you wrap your legs around him, voice wrecked as he groans, “Fuck… now I get to feel you.”

It was decided pretty quickly that Joon would ditch his shitty apartment and move into Jin’s old room, so that Yoongi wouldn’t have to struggle for too long with paying rent by himself. 

You’re still living at your own place, but, to no-one’s surprise, you end up sleeping over at Yoongi and Joon’s more often than not. 

Saturday night was uneventful, or as Yoongi had called it, ‘perfect’. Joon brought some take out from the restaurant he works at after his shift and you watched that new arthouse movie he wanted to see. Well, Joon watched it. Yoongi and you ended up swiping through cat videos on his phone while Joon was immersed in the cinematography and hourlong dialogues. He only reprimanded you twice for giggling at a bunch of kittens during a silent staredown between the two main characters. By midnight you’d all gone to sleep, Yoongi in the middle, Joon to his right, you on the left. Kind of perfect indeed.

A late breakfast was served today, the chores split between Yoongi and you, since Joon still can’t be trusted with a knife. He washed the dishes afterwards though, while Yoongi threw himself on the sofa and you hopped into the shower. 

You’re rinsing out the cheap conditioner Yoongi owns and make a mental note to bring a bottle of your own next time. How his hair is so healthy and soft when he just uses that crappy stuff is a mystery yet to be solved. Once you’re done showering and drying your hair, you put on a pair of panties - skimpy ones, but what can you do - and a white oversized shirt you stole from Yoongi’s closet. It’s so long that it almost reaches your knees, rendering pants unnecessary. It’s so warm in the apartment anyway, the guys are wearing sweat shorts and t-shirts so it’s only fair if you rile them up a little too.

You step out into the hallway and hear the two talking in another room - the studio if you’re correct. Peaking in, you see Joon on the couch, notepad in hand that he’s scribbling something into with a pen while Yoongi sits with his back to him at his desk, tapping away on his computer. Of course they’re working, you think with a smile. What else would they be doing on a Sunday? 

You retreat to pick up the camera from your bag in the living room, having set yourself the goal of taking some nice candid shots of Joon and Yoongi, to get them printed in black and white, so they can hang them on their walls as decoration if they want. This seems like a good moment for it. You quietly sneak up, hold the camera through the crack in the door, and point the lens at Joon whose head hangs down slightly, brows knit in concentration as he notes down some lyrics on the bottom end of the page. Click! You capture the moment and Joon looks up at the sound of the mechanical whirring, surprised at first, then smiles as he takes in your presence. 

Yoongi, with his bulky headphones on only over his right ear, notices the sound too and spins around on his desk chair. You quickly point the camera his way and snap a picture of him with one of his eyebrows raised in confusion, mouth slightly agape. He blinks and shakes his head with a click of his tongue. “What are you doing?” he chuckles as he turns back around. 

“My work,” you reply as you plop down next to Joon. “While you do yours.”

Yoongi hums, then turns his head so he can check you out over his shoulder, holding his headphones with one hand, so they don't fall off his head. “And what are you wearing?”

“Your shirt,” you say, making Joon huff a laugh. “That a problem?”

“Not for me,” Yoongi replies half distracted, switching beats from one place to another in his mixing program. 

“No problem at all,” Joon confirms as he brings his hand to your thigh, fingers gently stroking over your skin as he kisses your cheek. 

You lean into him and bring the camera's viewfinder to your eye, focusing the lens on his fingers curling around your leg. Another picture, this one's probably not going to get printed though. You move the camera around in search of some more material. The ashtray with a half smoked spliff and a red lighter next to it on the side table beside the right end of the sofa comes into view and you press the shutter release button. You get up and take a few more shots, some of Joon smirking up at you, notebook lying in his lap on top of his grey sweat shorts and his hair all messy. Then a few of Yoongi as he’s playing with the DAW, tip of the tongue at the corner of his mouth in concentration. Some of just their hands, for your private portfolio of course…

Yoongi shakes his head again with a smirk and turns to roll over towards Joon on the couch. “How about some inspiration?” he asks, taking the joint from the ashtray, wiggling his brows.  

Joon peaks at his watch. “It’s almost noon,” he shrugs as you sit down next to him. “So, yeah, why not?”

Yoongi lights the joint and takes a shallow puff, then offers it to you as he quietly exhales. “Want some too?”

You put your camera away first, then take the joint between your pointer and middle finger, rolling your thumb against the filter. The thing’s been lying there for a few days, untouched since their last session and is so short that it’ll be done in a few more hits anyway. 

“Just one drag,” you say. “It’s almost gone already. Wouldn’t want to take all the inspiration for myself.”

They snicker at that and Joon presses his leg against yours as he scoots down lower on the sofa to get comfortable. “We can always roll another one,” he says as he watches you inhale. “Infinite inspiration if you will.”

“Alright potheads,” you mutter as you pass the blunt to Joon. “Don’t get all sleazy on me when you smoke too much though.”

“But I love getting all sleazy,” Joon fake pouts while Yoongi rolls his eyes with a grin. The two share the remains of the joint, passing it back and forth after each drag until the ember hits the filter. 

Yoongi blows out a cloud of smoke, a satisfied expression on his face with his eyes hooded as he rolls closer to the couch on his chair. He holds onto your thigh for stability as he bends to put out the blunt in the ashtray on the side table in the corner of the room. When he pulls back he stops in front of your face and inches closer, kissing you once, sour taste from smoking on both of your lips, then rolls over and kisses Joon as well. “Good good. This was inspiring,” he sighs before scooting back towards his desk.

Joon and you giggle at his lanky movements, already feeling the effects from the bit of weed. “Better make this your best song yet,” you call, but Yoongi doesn’t hear it. He has already put on his headphones, a beat playing faintly from them, as he’s clicking through the programs you know nothing about. 

“What have you written?” you ask Joon as you nestle into his side and pull your legs up on the couch. 

He turns to fish the notebook out from where it landed before, at the crevice of the sofa, then hands it to you while laying his arm around your shoulders. You read the lyrics while he’s tracing patterns on your skin, making you smile. He wrote something happy this time around - almost upbeat, if you had to describe it. ‘I see you come back to me’ is written down a bunch of times, probably for the hook.

“Who is it about?” you ask, chuckling for no other reason than his handwriting looking funny.

“Guess.”

“The three of us?”

“Mhm,” he nods, eyes turned to mere slits from smiling. 

He’s so cute you could actually burst into tears. To avoid getting all sappy, you scan the lyrics again. 

“We are your pain?” you ask, trying to look shocked and failing miserably. 

“Of course,” he snorts. “Divine and so fine.”

Both of you can’t hold back your laughs anymore and Joon pulls you closer as you giggle on until you don’t even know what you’re laughing about anymore. Your legs are now placed across his lap and you lay your head on his shoulder with a final chuckle bubbling from your chest. He sighs, content and dazed at the same time as his hand finds your thigh again.

“I love this,” you mumble into his shirt, tracing the seam on the fabric by his neck with your fingers.

“Being here with you two.”

I love you is what you wanted to say but didn't dare. The three words haven't been said out loud yet by any of you. But you feel it, you definitely do. Well, maybe one of these days you’ll gain the courage. And you’d want Yoongi to be there too, not just in the room, but listening. 

Joon kisses your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment before he pulls back. “Me too.”

You chuckle again. “You too, Yoongi?” you ask a bit louder and you both stare at the back of his head. He’s still immersed in the music, beat blaring into his ears that he nods along to, not hearing a word you’re saying.

“He’s never been much of a talker,” Joon notes seriously and throws his head back to laugh at his own joke immediately after.

“Good thing we have you,” you say and cup his cheek to turn his face your way. 

“True.” 

He lets you pull him closer and scans your features, gaze drifting up and down between your eyes and lips a few times, a ghost of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“What? Getting shy now?” you giggle. “Go on, kiss me.”

“Didn’t want to get all sleazy on you,” he grins as he leans in further and closes the final bit of distance. His lips meet yours gently, letting them slowly brush against you before he presses on deeper. You can feel him smiling, and you do as well, already overwhelmed by the mild high, the laughing fits and Joon being Joon. 

He exhales sharply when you sweep your tongue into his mouth, opening up instantly while his hands grab at your waist. He pulls you on top of him as the kiss deepens, the mutual intoxication making you a bit uncoordinated, so you end up sitting on his left thigh instead of straddling both legs. You press your forehead against his, chuckling quietly to yourself and Joon joins in, laughing almost inaudibly as he brings his hand to your cheek. He leans in again, kissing you deeper now, tongue licking into your mouth so you latch your hands together behind his neck for stability. There’s a twitch in his leg and you can’t tell if it’s his muscles spasming involuntarily or if he did it on purpose. Nevertheless, the movement shoots straight through you and makes you gasp into his mouth. 

Joon breaks the kiss, pupils dilated and the smile from before is wiped from his face. There’s some sort of craving in his expression now and the slight raise of his brows displays curiosity. He moves his leg again, waiting for your reaction, which you immediately deliver to him in a drawn out groan.

“So I didn’t imagine that,” he concludes, all cocky. 

You want more of him, to feel him against you, so you move to straddle him properly but Joon holds you in place by your hip. 

“Joonie,” you whine like a pathetic kid. “Let me ride you.”

His hand proceeds to hold you there, but begins to guide you to move back and forth across his leg in small motions, his shorts getting pushed up and crumpled in the process. “Ride my thigh baby,” he says, watching closely as your barely clothed core drags over the skin of his upper leg.

Fuck, so this is where he wants you, huh? Your right hand lands on his shoulder, the left on his chest, holding yourself up, while he fists the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt at your hip. He’s pulling it so tightly that your ass is exposed, the usually loose top now straining against your body as he directs your movements with his grip. 

You do what he asked you to and roll your hip against his leg, huffing out a delicate breath as your core drags across him. The feeling is a bit dull, no edges or bulges there for you to rub against, but the friction is getting a bit more intense with each move forward. 

He flexes his muscles, making the surface feel firmer all of a sudden, then relaxes again, alternating between hard and soft for every other stroke you take. “Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding dumbly to let him know you like that.  

Joon looks at you in awe, jaw slack, eyes busy roaming all over you as he grips your shirt even harder. Your panties are damp at this point and all the rubbing isn't helping, you're definitely spreading it across his leg. 

“Fuck,” he sighs. Oh okay, he can feel it too. Your cheeks are heating up, slight embarrassment spreading across your face when he reaches out his free hand. You think he'll want you to stop but he hooks his finger into the fabric of your underwear and pulls it to the side with a groan. “So messy, keep going.”

Your head falls back at the new feeling, skin touching skin, your pussy now dragging directly over his bare thigh, lubricated by your own slick. “Holy shit,” you moan with your eyes closed, increasing the speed as sparks erupt across your body, chasing the high that doesn't seem as unreachable anymore.

Joon’s fingers drag from your panties to your chest, grabbing your tit harshly, thumb brushing over your nipple in rough circles as he exhales heavily. Your eyes fall down to his crotch where the fabric of his sweats is tented, hard dick visibly outlined beneath the light grey cotton, making your mouth water for him. 

Just as you’re about to reach out for him you notice it. The silence. Yoongi’s music has stopped. Then there’s noise, something falling to the floor. Joon’s hand falls away from your chest as he looks over your shoulder before you turn around. Yoongi is standing next to his desk, his headphones lying by his feet, eyes fixated on the two of you. 

“What the fuck?” he asks, already on his way over. “I zone out for what? Ten minutes? And you start fucking without letting me know?”

He’s playing, you can hear it in his voice but you indulge him anyway. “Sorry! We called for you, but you didn't hear.” 

“And we’re not fucking,” Joon corrects him. “Yet.”

Yoongi halts next to you, his hand on your shoulder as he inspects the situation. You’re still pressed against Joon’s leg, his hand on your side, having dropped your shirt so it's covering you a little more than some moments ago. 

“Oh,” Yoongi murmurs. “You’re riding his thigh…” He tilts your head up, hand at the front of your throat as he leans down for a kiss, all teeth and tongue, making your head spin and your hip snap forward. He then runs his fingers down your spine, lifting the hem of your shirt a bit. “You naked under there?”

“Almost,” Joon answers for you while you grin sheepishly. 

Yoongi hums as he looks closer at where your and Joon’s bodies connect. “Shit… And what about me?”

“I have two thighs,” Joon counters. 

Yoongi’s brows rise as he takes a step back, chuckling incredulously. “You’re serious?”

Joon nods, holding you by the waist as he scoots forward on the cushion so he can spread his legs wider. He taps his other thigh in invitation, looking up at Yoongi. 

“You're insane,” Yoongi laughs as he starts pulling off his shirt, then reaches for the hem of yours, pulling it off over your head and nods towards Joon, “You too.”

Joon follows suit, taking off his top as well before he leans against the backrest, leaving the guys only in their shorts and you in your panties that are still rolled to the side. 

Yoongi steps forward to straddle Joon’s other thigh and sinks down slowly. Joon’s legs are spread wide to fit both of you but your left leg and Yoongi’s right one are still squished together quite a bit. Yoongi brings his hand to your ass, squeezing the flesh and pushes you forward. “Show me what you did without me.”

A sigh escapes you at the touch and you roll your hips, back and forth again and again with your hand on Joon’s shoulder. You’re so wet at this point that there’s barely any resistance, making the grind even sloppier than before. This is so fucking messy, so hot, your eyes are rolling back at the fact that the two are watching you do this. 

“Damn,” Yoongi groans as he unconsciously starts moving against Joon’s thigh as well. You feel his leg pressing against yours from the side so you slow down to grant him more mobility. 

Yoongi arches his back, his erection already visible, straining against the black material of his shorts. The angle makes it harder for him than it is for you to gain friction, his dick moving just barely above Joon’s thigh in the air. Joon reaches out at the sight, palming him over his pants once, making Yoongi exhale a shaky breath. 

“Shit, hah,” he breathes out as Joon’s hand retreats. “Need to press it down.” Yoongi reaches into his pants, doing just that and pushes his erection lower, now in contact with Joon’s thigh and snaps his hip forward, finally able to drag across him properly. “That’s it,” he whispers followed by a groan. 

“Let me do that,” you say as you reach out, making him stop in his tracks. Your hand finds its way into his pants and Yoongi places it where he needs you, wrapping your fingers around his base, angling your wrist and guiding you to push the length down with your thumb. “Is that good?”

Yoongi nods, grinding back and forth with his lips agape, groaning each time you press his tip down a bit further. You can’t help yourself from moving your hips as well, desperately chasing more. The two of you must look like dogs in heat, rutting on Joon’s thighs like you’ve lost it. 

He doesn't mind it one bit though, at least by the looks of it. Joon watches you both with dark eyes, pupils blown out to the point of them being almost entirely black, his jaw tight with his hands intertwined behind his head like he’s having the time of his life. His erection is still pushing against his sweats, untouched until Yoongi leans forward and brushes his palm over it. 

Joon hisses, surprised by the action. He swallows a groan as Yoongi continues to rub him harder, a dark patch of precum forming on the fabric of his sweats. “Hold on.”

The three of you are already a sticky, panting mess, hooded eyes meeting at his words. 

“Wanna watch you fuck,” Joon mutters, tapping the cushion next to him for Yoongi to sit. 

“What about you?” you ask, getting up from him as Yoongi throws himself on the couch without protest. 

“Don't worry about it,” Joon chuckles. “I already got some ideas.”

So you do it, straddling Yoongi on the couch, crashing your lips into his as he wraps his arms around your back, holding you tightly against him. You grind against his lap as he’s kissing down your neck, making even more of a mess on his sweats, all while Joon watches you from his spot next to you. 

Yoongi grins as he snakes his hand down to your pussy, two fingers dragging along your folds. “So fucking wet from riding Joonie.” 

You nod, gasping at the way he teases your clit. He brings his fingers to your core and pushes two of them into you at once. And he has the audacity to smirk. “You’re so ready, you don't even need my fingers, huh?”

A moan rips from your throat at the feeling of him entering you, walls clenching around his digits. He’s right though, all that grinding got you so horny, you want all of him now. Yoongi pulls his fingers away with a chuckle as you yank on the waistband of his pants, needing him naked this second. “Don’t rush,” he chides, bringing his soiled hand up to your face. “Open.”

He didn’t even have to tell you to, your mouth would have hung ajar anyway. Nasty… He brings his middle finger closer and pushes it against your tongue. You twirl it around the digit, closing your lips around it and suck it clean. “Good,” he says as he pulls it out, then turns to Joon, who takes Yoongi’s hand into his own, kissing his palm before he takes his pointer finger into his mouth and sucks on it with a low hum.

Joon then stands up from the couch and motions for you to move. “Sit where I just sat.” Yoongi and you comply, wiggling over to the other side of the two-seater though you’re unsure why until you realize you are now at the end of the couch where there is nothing in the way next to the armrest, so Joon can stand there. His crotch is at your eye level now, and naturally, you can’t resist palming him over his shorts, tracing his outline tightly and he lets his head fall back between his shoulders. 

Yoongi finally pulls his pants down beneath you, leaving them hanging around his ankles. 

Luckily there’s no need for condoms anymore. Shortly after you made it official, the three of you got tested and you took care of birth control so you wouldn't have to worry about it. 

You’re pulled back into the moment when Yoongi pushes his tip against you, brushing it back and forth across you before tapping it against your clit. 

“Jesus, Yoongi,” you groan, head falling forward and softly bumping into him. “Just fuck me already.”

“I will baby,” he grins. “Once I get rid of that fucking thong.” 

He’s holding it aside with his hand, you didn’t even realize until now, it must have shifted as you moved, so you start pushing it down. Yoongi beats you to it, grabbing the thing with both hands and rips the waistband apart.

“Excuse me?” you all but laugh. Looks like he’s not as patient as he seems, the fabric now hanging loosely by your knee around your left leg.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he apologizes, bringing one hand to your face to pull you closer. His other hand guides his dick to your core and he kisses you at the same time as he pushes into you. You moan into his mouth at the intrusion, your body responding to the feeling of him dragging tightly against your walls. The stretch makes you shudder, nails digging into the skin by his shoulders with your eyes shut. Yoongi licks into your mouth while you sink down on him, breath hitting your skin as he sighs. 

You pull back for air when he bottoms out, pressing your forehead against his, needing a second to take it all in. His hand caresses your lower back, drawing soothing circles on the skin until you roll your hips and knock the air out of his lungs. 

“Fuck,” he drawls. “Do that again.”

You do with a smirk, moving on top of him in smooth motions, as he stares up at you like you hung the damn moon in the sky. Joon is watching the two of you in a similar way, gaze downcast at the scene before him. Yoongi meets your eye and you wordlessly arrive at the same conclusion, both reaching out for Joon’s sweats, pulling them down and making him snicker. He steps out of his shedded clothes, his erection facing the two of you - hard and hot and leaking. He’s holding back, you can tell by the way his brows knit, hands clenched to fists at his sides. You reach out, wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft, pumping him in the same rhythm you ride Yoongi. Joon groans at the touch and it drives you on to spit into your hand and repeat the action. Yoongi takes the hint, now fucking up into you so you can focus on jerking off Joon, drawing moans from both of you. 

“Shit,” you mewl as Yoongi grabs at your ass to pull you into him harder, his pace increasing with each thrust. Beads of sweat are collecting at your temples, the rest of your body already glossed over in an evenly sheen. You close your fingers tighter around Joon, making him groan before leaning over and swirling your tongue around his head, the taste of salty precum immediately spreading on your palate. Joon has no choice but to reach out, taking your face between his hands and pushes into your mouth with a shallow thrust. You look up at him as he pulls back, eyes meeting yours before you dive back in, sucking him as deep as you can. Yoongi, spurred on by the picture in front of him, thrusts up into you in rhythmic motions, breathing unevenly as he’s trying not to lose it. His right hand is still on your ass, his left one reaches out to cup Joon’s balls, slowing his movements as he cradles them with his palm beneath your face. 

You pull away from Joon’s cock, pumping him fast as you look up at him, then turn your head towards Yoongi, motioning for him to take over. Joon shifts closer to Yoongi, whose mouth is on him immediately, sucking him deeper than you possibly could. How in the hell is he always doing that so easily? You rock your hips again, now that Yoongi is… otherwise occupied and the angle makes your clit drag over the hair at his base deliciously. So much that your limbs tingle. 

Joon has taken Yoongi’s face in his hands, thumb stroking along his jaw before he slides them to the back of his head, running his fingers through Yoongi’s hair and collects it between his digits in a makeshift ponytail. He’s holding onto it for leverage, fucking slowly into Yoongi’s mouth, making sure not to choke him. Yoongi groans around him while you continue riding him, feeling an orgasm approaching at all the sensations you’re flooded with - the sight of Yoongi getting his face fucked, the angle at which you grind on him - it’s all too much for a single person to take in.

It hits you without any warning, a thrum of pleasure ripping through your core as you clasp your hands behind Yoongi’s neck, grinding helplessly on his dick. He pulls off Joon with a moan, the feeling of your walls clenching around him forcing his focus back on you. Your pussy’s gripping him so tightly that his head falls back onto the headrest, eyes shut as he’s pulled over the edge as well, automatically driving his pelvis up into you again and again, spurts of his release shooting into you with each snap of his hip.

You’re both a panting mess when you fall on top of him, gasping for air as he cradles your right cheek, while your left one is pressed to his sweaty chest. His heart hammers against his ribs excessively, beating into your ear from beneath his skin. 

“Jesus Christ,” you sigh, wiping a strand of hair from your forehead, making him laugh, his chest gently rattling against your face. 

From the corner of your eye you see Joon stepping out of view, making you wonder what he’s about to do. He doesn’t let you dwell on it for long though, as his hands land on both sides of your ass within a few seconds. Yoongi’s still inside of you when Joon pulls you up by the hips, making him slip out with a gasp. You’re propped up on top of Yoongi now, ass in the air between Joon’s grip, hands on Yoongi’s shoulders for support. 

“You okay?” Joon asks and you feel his fingers at your entrance, preventing Yoongi’s cum from dripping out. 

“Yeah,” you nod with your head turned backwards to look at him. He smiles as he looks down at you, not meeting your eyes, view fixed on your rear. Your head snaps forward when he pushes the tip of his dick between your puffy folds and Yoongi watches you with a devilish expression, whispering to himself, “Hell yeah.”

Joon goes on, pressing his groin into you further, driving his length deeper and stretching your walls with a slow thrust that makes you gasp for air. His hands roam along your sides and to your front, where he’s grabbing at your tits and begins kneading them. He grunts deeply when he bottoms out, the sound echoing off the walls. His moves turn animalistic quickly, apparently unable to hold himself back any longer when he pulls almost all the way out of you just to thrust back in harshly. You cry out at the motion, your walls contracting uncontrollably around him as he keeps on bullying himself into you.

“You should see her face, Joonie,” Yoongi chuckles before cupping your cheeks. He brings his lips to yours and kisses you deeply, tongues meeting in a sloppy way as you are launched back and forth from behind. “She loves it when you go all wild. Don’t you? Drives you crazy when he acts like a caveman, huh.”

You nod all pathetic and flustered, too helpless to even pretend you’re not into this. Because you are. Just the thought of how Joon is taking you now, picked straight out of Yoongi’s lap, could get you off and you sob when he picks up his pace. Every thick inch of him brushes along your ridges, squeezed so tightly inside of you, you begin to fear you’re not going to make it. Joon brings his hands to your hips to hold you in place. 

“You’re so into this,” Yoongi beams as he brings one hand to your chest, pinching your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. His other hand wanders down to your pussy, fingertips rubbing your clit while Joon’s still fucking you from the back. “You can give us one more, right?”

Oh you definitely can, you feel like you’re about to explode anyway. “Yeah,” you nod, swallowing down another sob as he starts circling you.

“Hear that, Joonie?” Yoongi asks. “She’s close.”

Joon’s not doing any better apparently, as he just groans in response, the snap of his hips now frenzied. A hot drop of sweat falls from his chin onto your back and runs down your side, tickling your skin on its way and giving you goosebumps.

Yoongi holds your face up now, hand squeezing your chin, the other still working its wonders on your clit. “Come on doll. One more for Joonie.”

You nod, feeling the high approaching rapidly, coil tightening inside your abdomen and it’s only getting worse with how much shit Yoongi’s talking again.

“He’s fucking you so good, huh,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. “He deserves to feel you coming all over him too. Go on, give it to him.”

The coil snaps, making you see stars, eyes rolling back into your head with a moan as another wave of pleasure strikes through you like a whip. Limbs giving in, you fall forward against Yoongi’s chest, who immediately brings his arm around you, holding you close through your orgasm. “That’s right. Doing so good,” he praises you. “Ride it out.”

Joon feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. The way you squeeze and throb around him is borderlining on torture. He grips your hips tighter to prevent you from collapsing, thrusting as deep as he can, as far as your perfect, tainted pussy allows him to go and you contract on him again, making him lose his final thread of sanity. He throws his head back, burying himself to the hilt, dick twitching as he releases a hot gush of his cum inside of you. His chest is heaving as he’s gasping for breath, hip trembling against yours while he rides out his high too. 

There’s cum oozing out of you on the side, dripping down your leg now, making him feel even more deranged as he watches it trickle, his dick jerking once more at the sight. He groans, then pulls out carefully and holds you by the waist as he lets himself fall onto the couch next to Yoongi. 

You’re led to lie down on top of them, with your ass in Yoongi’s lap, back across Joon’s, and your legs carefully pulled up to prevent more cum from dripping out of you. Yoongi pulls them down though and spreads your knees apart, watching intently as a thick glob of their combined loads leaks out of you, landing on his thigh. “Shit,” he laughs breathlessly. “Look at you, dirty girl.”

Joon caresses your face, fingers stroking your temple and then your hair as he leans over to Yoongi for a kiss. You sigh as you watch them while Yoongi reaches for your hand with his eyes closed. His thumb brushes across your skin tenderly, his other hand finding your hip to hold on to.

You stay in that spot for a moment, catching your breath, brain starting to comprehend the way you just got fucked. You laugh to yourself in disbelief, the guys’ attention falling to you at the sound. 

“What's up?” Joon asks, grinning. 

You shake your head, still giggling. “Nothing. That was just…”

“Insane?” Joon asks. 

“Awesome?” Yoongi asks at the same time. 

“Yes,” you nod. “Both. Ugh, and I need another shower now.”

“We do too,” Joon replies as he begins to pick you up bridal style, one hand under your knees, the other below your shoulders, then gets up and kisses your cheek before carrying you to the bathroom, a giddy Yoongi in tow. 

---

A/n: hehe soooo yeah! i need a shower, please let me know if you liked it or not :]

pairing: Yoongi x reader (f)

rating/genre: pg; regency romance, fluff,

warnings: Yoongi being Yoongi, so much fluff y’all

note: This is the last part of a series. I would recommend reading parts 1 through 5 to understand the story better.

note 2: I couldn’t let this story go TT.TT I love this Yoongi and reader so much, I had to give them something special. This will be the end of this Universe I think, but I already have so many other ideas that I can’t wait to share with you all. As always, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated but honestly, just you reading it makes me happy.

word count: 1.7k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

—

Two years later.~

Dawn came quietly to Shadow-Wood Manor. The lake was as still as ever, a perfect mirror of pale morning light, thin ribbons of mist drifting lazily across its surface. The ancient oaks stood still in the early light, their reflections stretching long and dark across the glass-like water. It was here that the estate felt most like him; calm, endlessly deep.

The world had not yet woken, and for a moment, it felt as though time itself had paused—held gently in the hush of early morning. The only sound was the soft, rhythmic dip of oars through water.

You had woken to an empty bed, but you had not been surprised.You knew exactly where he would be, there were only two places he would go to find himself. After checking his studio but only finding his beloved piano, you went directly to your second guess, and there he was indeed. In the center of the lake.

The black-lacquered rowing boat cut smoothly through the water, each stroke of the oars steady and precise.Yoongi moved with the same quiet precision he always had. The world might have changed around him—titles, expectations, the weight of a life now shared—but here, in the stillness, he remained the same. Or so he told himself.

From the dock, you watched him for a moment, adjusting the small bundle in your arms as it stirred softly against your chest.

“Your Grace,” you called gently.

The oars stilled instantly. He turned—and the transformation was immediate. It always was. That sharp, calculating stillness he carried so effortlessly with the world softened in an instant when his gaze found you. And then— Something even softer when his eyes dropped to the baby in your arms.

He guided the boat back without a word, movements just slightly less measured now, just a touch quicker than usual. You smiled to yourself thinking impatience did not suit him. And yet, there it was. By the time the boat reached the dock, he was already stepping out, securing it quickly before turning back to you.

“You are awake early,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

“So are you.”

“I am always awake at this hour.”

“Yes,” you replied lightly, taking his hand as you stepped into the boat, “I have gathered that you are a deeply inconvenient man to be married to.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips and leaned in to press a gentle kiss on your lips.

“And yet you accepted, my love.”

“I am beginning to question my judgment.”

“You are free to rescind your decision.”

You chuckled and settled onto the seat, adjusting your grip on the baby “Absolutely not. We have company now”

You shifted the baby slightly, revealing his small, peaceful face. Entirely unaware of the effect he had on the most feared man in England.

Yoongi said nothing. Just looked. As though committing every detail to memory. “…He was asleep when I left,” he said quietly.

“He just woke,” you answered softly. “And decided he would rather find you.”

A faint exhale left him—something softer than a sigh. “Is that so?”

“Well,” you added, a hint of teasing in your voice, “it appears you are already his preferred parent.”

Yoongi’s brow lifted slightly.

“That is a bold claim.”

“Is it?”

You gently placed the baby into his arms. And just like that— The Duke of Westmorland, the man who could dismantle entire reputations with a single sentence… Looked completely undone.

He held the child with surprising ease, one hand supporting him instinctively, the other adjusting the small blanket with careful precision. “…He has grown,” Yoongi murmured.

“It has been two weeks since you last made that observation.”

“He has grown in those two weeks.”

You smiled. “I believe that is how children work.”

His lips twitched faintly. The baby stirred slightly, tiny fingers curling against the front of Yoongi’s shirt making him freeze completely and you bit back a laugh.

“Careful,” you whispered. “He may challenge your authority.”

“I doubt that.”

The baby made a small sound—something between a sigh and a quiet protest making Yoongi immediately adjust his hold bringing his forehead to rest closer to the small boy in his arms.

“There now,” he murmured, voice lower, softer than you had ever heard it. It was instinctive and unpracticed. Real.

Your heart did a funny thing at the sight. “You are very good at that,” you said quietly.

“I am learning.”

“You are adapting remarkably well for a man who once claimed he preferred silence.”

“I still prefer silence.”

The baby shifted again and Yoongi glanced down at him.

“…with exceptions.”

You laughed softly. There it was, that softness reserved only for you, and now— for that little baby that was half you, half him.

The three of you settled into the boat, Yoongi pushing gently away from the dock before sitting closer to you, the baby still cradled carefully in his arms.

You leaned slightly, resting your forehead briefly against his shoulder.

“You know,” you murmured softly, “for a man so feared, you are remarkably easy to love.”

He freed one arm and slipped it around your waist, pulling you even closer without hesitation.

“And for a woman so determined to sacrifice herself,” he replied quietly, “you are remarkably difficult to let go of.”

You smiled against him. “Good.”

“You are the only place that I want to be.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. You could spend a lifetime watching him like this, hearing him say things like that, and it would never be enough. He brought warmth and light to your soul. Neither of you spoke. The lake carried you slowly forward, the morning light growing warmer with each passing second, it was peaceful and whole. Then, after a moment, you tilted your head slightly.

“You are thinking something.”

“I am always thinking something.”

“Yes,” you said knowingly, “but this time it is dangerous.”

His gaze lifted to yours.

“Dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds unlikely.”

“It is not,” you insisted. “You have that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that precedes a very inconvenient suggestion.”

A pause. Then—

“I think we should have a daughter.”

You stared at him unable to hold a laugh.

“…I knew it.”

He smirked softly and continued calmly.

“I believe it would be beneficial.”

“For whom?”

“For me.”

You laughed again.

“Of course it would be.”

“I am serious.”

“I can tell.”

He adjusted the baby slightly, as though reinforcing his point.

“I would like a daughter.”

“And why is that?”

His gaze softened again, something thoughtful settling behind it.

“Because,” he said quietly, “I would like to see someone look at you the way this little down does… and know that she will grow to be just as impossibly reckless… and angelical as her mother.”

You blinked.That was not the answer you expected.

“That is… dangerously persuasive.”

“I am aware.”

You leaned back slightly chuckling, studying him.

“And if she inherits your temperament?”

“Then the world will suffer accordingly.”

You laughed again, softer this time.

“She would look just like you…” That simple thought made your heart skip a beat and almost made you say yes right then and there. “I will consider it.”

“You will consider it?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“That is not a definitive answer.”

“It is the only answer you are receiving this morning.”

He studied you for a moment, then nodded once.

“Very well.” He smiled. “But I will revisit the matter.”

“I have no doubt.”

The baby made another small sound, shifting slightly in his arms.

Yoongi looked down immediately.

“…He disagrees.”

“With what?”

“With your lack of commitment.”

You shook your head, chuckling.

“Of course he does.”

The sun had fully risen now, the mist gone completely, the lake shimmering gold beneath the morning light. You watched them both for a moment… Your husband and son, a thousand indescribable feelings, but you knew one thing, during these little pockets of time in your own little world, you did not want to chase time. He had kept his word, the life he promised, at last, it was yours.

“My dear,” you said with a soft smile breaking the silence, “I still remember when you were a man once feared by all of society… but you have become quite gentle.”

Yoongi glanced up at you.

“Do not spread that rumor.”

“It is far too late.”

His lips curved slightly.

“Then I shall have to rely on you to maintain my reputation, Mrs. Min.”

You leaned forward slightly, your hand brushing gently against his cheek.

“I think I prefer the truth.”

“And what is that?”

You smiled.

“That you were never meant to be feared.”

His gaze held yours.

“No?”

“No.”

He placed his palm on top of your hand and closed his eyes, relishing your warmth and the softness of your touch.

“You were meant to be loved.”

For a moment, he said nothing, then his hand tightened gently around yours, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm. And though the world beyond the lake would always demand something of him— Power. Control. Strength. Here— he allowed himself something else entirely.

The boat drifted slowly across the water, this time, there was no past to outrun, no future to fear. Only this.

A quiet morning.

A shared life.

And a love that had finally, irrevocably— Become yours.

——

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It has come to this author’s attention that the notoriously inscrutable Duke of Westmorland has, quite irreversibly, succumbed to a most curious affliction.

No, not scandal (though he has certainly inspired his fair share), nor ambition (for he has long since mastered that particular game). But something far more dangerous.

Domestic bliss.

Indeed, those fortunate enough to glimpse the Duke in recent months report a most astonishing transformation—one involving quiet mornings, a certain Duchess who appears entirely immune to his formidable reputation, and, most recently, a very small heir who seems to command their undivided attention.

One can only conclude that love, in all its reckless persistence, has once again proven itself the most powerful force in society.

And if even the most guarded of hearts may be claimed so completely… What hope, dear reader, is there for the rest of us?

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

-

-

-

fin

but as weeks go by, your one worded texts and curt responses weren’t cutting it out for him. not when you’re posting like normal on instagram, spending nights out with friends. 

this time he doesn’t wait for you to pick up on the other side of the call. his car is parked right in front of your office building, and he stands right across the entrance, waiting for you to come out. when you finally do close to 7pm, you pause mid-way out the door. blinking at the man now standing on the footpath with his hands in his pockets, an unimpressed look on his face. 

“what are you doing here?” you ask, taking small steps and maintaining the distance between you. 

“had dinner yet?” he ignores your question.

your mouth parts to answer but you hesitate. your cold front was so much easier over the phone. now standing in front of him, you shrivel up in guilt. you hadn’t explained anything to him, and he’s probably as confused as ever. 

you shake your head gently. “no but…it’s alright i can get something on the way back.” 

yoongi nods, lips pursed. then he turns, and you think he’s mad. but all he does is open the passenger seat door for you, nodding his head for you to get in. your feet feel heavy. you shouldn’t. you have half a mind to back away, and speed off down the street. 

but of course, you don’t. not when he extends his palm out to you, a hint of hope in his eyes. 

his thumb gently caresses the back of your palm as you step inside, adjusting yourself comfortably. you wonder if you’ve made the right choice as you watch him cross the front of the vehicle and slipping into the seat next to yours. he leans over to reach for your seatbelt, face now inches away from yours, the smell of his cologne in your face, and you curse yourself for forgetting to do it yourself. 

the entire ride was silent as he let the radio fill the car. yoongi never cared much for conversation anyways, it was always you chatting away while he drove. but now, the silence is too much even for him. 

he drops you off at his fancy apartment, one you’ve been to many times, hands the doorman a bunch of bags and tells you to wash up while he gets you dinner. 

twenty minutes later, you’re out of the shower, wearing clothes you’d left behind months ago, just an oversized shirt and red strawberry shorts. 

the front door clicks open and yoongi enters with packed food from one of your favourite restaurants. he doesn’t let you help, only pulling the chair out for you as he starts setting the table with the food. 

the entire vibe is awkward, though yoongi looks unfazed. not that you’re not used to him doing this for you, he’s always taken the initiative to set the table and everything. it’s the elephant in the room that’s killing you. 

you take a few bites before already feeling full, not from the food but from the glasses of water you’ve downed in an attempt to calm your nerves. as yoongi eats quietly, you prod at the food with your fork. 

“what’s wrong?” he asks, far too casually with how everything’s going so far. “not good?”

“it’s good.” you answer way too quickly, dismissing him. “i’m just-”

“not in the mood?” 

you look up and his dark eyes pierce straight into yours. you muster up a smile. “i’m full.” 

“that’s fine,” he nods, reaching for your plate, “you can have it for lunch tomorrow.” 

yoongi’s fingers wrap around the edge of your plate, but before he can bring it over to his side, your hands wrap around his wrist and the dish falls back on your placemat. his eyes flicker up at you, only now having noticed the large cut on the back of his hand. “your hand. what happened?”

he shrugs, turning his hand to look at the wound. it’s mostly healed, but still a little red. “cut myself while trying to fix that mirror.” he nods to the newly placed mirror by the front door. 

you had suggested that once. months ago. for one last outfit check before we leave the house! you reasoned. he listened. 

“the mirror fell the first time round. cut myself while picking up the pieces.” he explains, but doesn’t pull his hand away, waiting till you finally ease up.

your face still twisted with concern and the guilt you’ve been wearing the entire evening. “i told you not to diy things…” you click your tongue. “you’re not handy.” 

“excuse me? who do you think assembled half the furniture here?” he scowls.

“pretty sure they assemble things for you when it’s delivered.” 

“maybe for clumsys like you.” he retorts and you crack a smile, scoffing out a tiny laugh. 

“i’m not the one that dropped a mirror.” 

he chuckles, and your heart skips. “it was heavy.” 

your giggles eventually die down, and once again an awkward silence blankets the space between you. but with the tension having died down a little, you let out a tiny exhale before getting up with your plate, going round him to the kitchen island and racking the cupboards for a glass container to store the leftover pasta.