bethany

[Brussels, BE, July 2026]

The VCR is already rolling, the massive 360 screens pulling the audience’s attention while backstage moves in controlled chaos.

You’re digging through the rack of bright cloaks—the ones everyone throws on for the next entrance so the members can blend in and slip onto the stage unnoticed. They switch up colors sometimes, nothing serious. Members just have to make sure they enter with the group wearing the same color so they don’t stand out.

Usually, red goes first, then blue.

You slip your red one on, pull it over your head. You should be in the zone, but are still a little salty about the interaction with Yoongi earlier. But it’s whatever.

“Which color are you taking today?” you ask. He always picks the blue coat, but for some reason, you’re hoping he goes with your color instead. You don’t know why. You just do.

“Don’t really care. I just pick whatever.”

You hum, a little disappointed. He knows what color group you’re in. And he should be smart enough to know why you’re asking. 

“Wae? Why are you pouting?”

“Nothing.”

You don’t elaborate. You just walk away.

You button the front and smooth it out, then you tug the hood tighter. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him glance at you, then away.

Seokjin walks by, a crimson delight. You’re curious when Yoongi stops him in his path, a blue coat hanging from the crook of his arm.

“Hyung.” Yoongi holds up the coat in his hand. “Trade.”

“Why?”

“Yah.” Yoongi impatiently shoves his blue cloak to his elder. “Just do it.”

Yoongi’s gaze lands on you.

There’s a second where Seokjin looks behind him and spots you too, then he grins. “Aah, I see how it is.”

You look away, suddenly feeling embarrassed. What does Seokjin mean by that?! Surreptitiously, you view their interaction through a mirror on the side.

“Hyung,” Yoongi says flatly, eyes closed.

“Okay, okay,” Seokjin laughs, already shrugging off the red.

Before you know it, Yoongi walks towards your group, adjusts the red sleeves, checks the buttons, like normal.

You can’t look at him because your heart is doing dumb shit in your chest right now. 

“Happy?” he asks, low enough so only you can hear.

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I don’t,” he says immediately.

“Clearly.” 

He shakes his head, but there’s the faintest pull at the corner of his mouth. “Now you can stop sulking.”

It’s stupid how much that small thing sticks with you. Matching colors with him. Walking to the stage with him by your side, arms brushing slightly. 

Maybe it was nothing.

But lately, despite all the rules you've set for yourself, you've started collecting these little moments with Yoongi.

Little things that probably don't mean much on their own.

It's probably reckless to give them a place in your heart and revisit them later, to let yourself wonder if they're adding up to something more.

Still, this one really feels worth keeping.

⊙⊝⊜

[London, UK, July 2026]

Backstage is once again in motion. Cables snake across the floor, staff weaving through each other with practiced urgency, voices overlapping through comms as the low roar of the crowd seeps faintly through the walls.

You’re halfway through helping reset a prop when Angel grabs your wrist.

“Hey,” she says, already pulling you along. “I need you on Yoongi. His in-ear was acting up earlier.”

“Since when am I in technicals, or wardrobe?” you mutter, but you’re already moving.

“Since…” her voice trails, shooting you a wink. “You decided to become a tour slut.” Then she goes back to professional mode, handing you the spare tape and a headset. “Just check the pack. You know how.”

You do.

That’s kind of the problem with this job. Everyone knows a little bit of everything, and suddenly you’re doing things that aren’t technically yours.

And when you think about it—it’s not just things.

People, too.

Like the man in front of you.

You sigh and slip the headset on as you approach him.

Yoongi’s standing off to the side, dressed for stage, mic already fitted, absently adjusting his bracelet.

“Angel sent me,” you say. “Need to check the pack.”

He glances at you, then nods once, turning his back without a word.

You crouch behind him, one knee rooted on the floor for balance. Your fingers find the small wireless set clipped at the back of his waistband. 

“Your right side was cutting earlier,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him as you check the cable connection.

“Mm.” He glances back at you, expression unreadable.

“Can you lift your shirt?”

He doesn’t question it. Just hooks his fingers into the hem of his tee and lifts.

You’ve seen this before. His slender waist, the black band of the non-descript boxer-briefs he likes to wear. And you’ve been in this position before, mouth busy, tear ducts on overdrive, knee caps a little red.

Your eyes linger on his body before you can stop them, catching the line of his waist, the muscles on his back, the lean stretch of his torso… Shit. You swallow it down just as fast.

Focus.

You reach back to adjust the strap of the pack properly against his waist, tightening it so it sits secure. Your fingers brush against warm skin for a split second and you draw your hand away quickly as if you got burned.

You tap your headset monitor, nodding to Yoongi. “Say something.”

“Something,” he says, flat.

You huff. “You’re so helpful.”

“Thought that’s what you asked for.”

You shake your head, adjusting the cable one more time just to be sure. “Again. Properly. If this fucks up, you’re the one singing without a monitor, not me.”

With his cooperation, you finally get things sorted out, but before you can go, his voice crackles in your ear.

“Hey, Y/N.”

He speaks in a frequency just for his and your set.

You stop at your tracks, adjusting your mic. “What?”

You turn to see the glint in his shadowy eyes, enough to know that when he speaks again, it’s not for audio checking. “You look pretty.”

Your brain takes a second too long to catch up. 

Because between his sheets, he has sung your praises. Hot. Sexy. So tight. But not like this. Not with his eyes a little too fond, telling you you’re Pretty, of all things. You don’t know what else to do but deflect.

“Pretty cause I got on my knees for you?” You smirk, deliberately making it sound crass. Because you can’t fathom the alternative. The tenderness, the gentleness in the way he said it.

There’s the most minute crease on his brow before someone calls his name across the room. And then he’s gone before he can answer.

You’re left standing there, headset buzzing softly in your ear, trying to remember what you were doing before your brain short-circuited over one word.

⊙⊝⊜

[Paris, FR, July 2026]

You’re in Paris, the city of love, and Yoongi’s been in your mind a little more than usual. Over a cheese croissant, you thought about it: inviting him. Granted, you can’t have him in your room because your twin accommodations aren’t exactly conducive for the activities you usually partake in, but maybe at least you can initiate. 

Maybe even ask if he wanted to walk somewhere. You know, get food… then coffee… stroll along the Seine riverside like every other tourist…

The idea flies out the window and flings itself onto incoming traffic the moment you spot him backstage fifteen minutes before showtime.

Yoongi is sprawled across one of the couches, one arm stretched lazily along the backrest. And directly in front of him sits the prettiest faerie in all the land. Park Jimin.

See, this thing between “YoonMin” has always intrigued you. You’ve always thought the boys were platonic, because the alternative would border on incest with how their brotherhood almost runs deeper than blood. But these two looked like they always had something different.

“Can you braid my hair, hyung?” Jimin asks with a little pout.

Yoongi, whose fingers were already absently playing with the edges of the younger’s blonde tips to begin with, nods his assent.

You shouldn't linger. You have somewhere to be. Yet somehow your feet stay planted.

From your shadowy corner backstage, you watch Yoongi gather sections of Jimin's hair with surprising care. His fingers move deftly, practiced, like this isn't the first time he's done it.

Jimin says something you can't hear and Yoongi huffs a laugh, open and wide, almost a guffaw. That’s a real one, unlike those tiny chuckles you’ve seen in interviews. You wonder, almost bitterly, if he’s ever laughed like that with you.

Fuck. You gotta snap out of it and get it together. You have a show to do and this is ridiculous. Jimin is Jimin and Yoongi has known him for half his life.

But when Yoongi finishes the last knot and pats the younger man's head absentmindedly afterward, something contorts in your stomach.

A staff member rushes past you, breaking the moment.

When you look back again, Jimin is already smiling bright and toothy at whatever Yoongi says next and Yoongi’s eyes are shining.

For some reason, you find yourself thinking about the word he'd called you over comms in London. Pretty. Then you immediately hate yourself for it. Because one word doesn't change anything. You’d do your best to remember that.

⊙⊝⊜

Namjoon: Are you bored? You: save me Namjoon: Yeah, that’s why I texted.

It’s your last night in Paris and the city glittered beyond the open balcony doors.

It was close to eleven and the sky was washed in the deepest navy. Beyond the wrought-iron railing, rooftops stretched endlessly beneath a sea of golden lights.

And there, impossibly, the Eiffel Tower. You keep catching yourself looking at it. You don’t wanna be dramatic, but hello?! That’s the Eiffel Tower and it just feels ridiculous that it's right there.

Growing up, Paris existed in movies, postcards, textbooks and now you're sitting on a hotel balcony with a direct view of it.

This is not your hotel room, obviously. Yours has a stunning view of the adjacent building's white-washed wall.

But Namjoon's room? WOW.

You briefly wonder how long it takes before views like these stop feeling surreal.

The warm summer air drifts through the balcony as you sit cross-legged on one of the loungers, while Namjoon occupies the chair opposite yours, glasses slipping lower down his nose as he scrolls absently through something on his phone.

He suddenly exhales through his nose, locks the screen, and tosses it onto the table between you. “Can I ask you something weird?”

You squint at him immediately. “Sus, but okay?”

“Do you think…” He pauses, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Do you think people like me actually have a shot at normal love?”

“That’s kinda… loaded.”

“Mm.”

“Also, define normal.”

“You know what I mean.” Namjoon leans back, sighs.

“I dunno.” You shrug. “Is love ever normal?”

Namjoon shifts slightly, gaze drifting toward the Eiffel now instead of you. “Maybe I’m just too hopeless.”

“Why do you think that?” 

“You know.” He sighs from deep within his chest. “This life. Always seen. Always moving. Never really staying anywhere long enough.”

“I think the right person wouldn’t care that your life’s this.” You smile faintly, swirling the wine inside your glass. “They’d just wanna be part of it regardless.”

He nods. “I think I’d be happier if I did have someone.”

Your eyes flick toward him. He’s looking at you. Eyes filled with exhaustion, but wrapped in sincerity. His life is never gonna be normal, you both know this. Idol life is not for the weak. And despite all his struggles, Kim Namjoon is still one of the strongest people you’ve ever known.

“Like…” He searches for the words carefully, elbows resting against his knees now. “Someone who actually knows me outside all this. Someone to come home to eventually. I like imagining that. Going to work, home by 7, and there’s a home-cooked meal and someone to have dinner with… Like I’m just a normal fuckin’ guy.”

Your heart bleeds a little. “I think wanting somebody to come home to is probably the most normal thing about you.”

Namjoon laughs softly, almost embarrassed by himself. “After shows I know everybody goes somewhere. Hobi likes to go out. Jin is perpetually on a video call with Hana. Kook, Tae, I know they get up to stuff. They got lives. And I dunno, I just…” He shrugs. “I feel it more lately.”

Loneliness. That’s what this is. Not dramatic loneliness. Just the quiet adult kind. The kind that makes you feel small and sneaks up on you in big hotel rooms after midnight. Like now. You understand exactly what he means.

“Namjoon-ah, I think somebody out there is gonna love you so much that all this,” you gesture vaguely around the area, “won’t scare them away. You’re gonna find them.”

Dots sink against his cheek and for a while neither of you speaks.

A dog barks. A group of women giggle. A police siren blares from a distance.

Then, Namjoon glances over. “What about you?”

You immediately groan. “Absolutely not. We are not doing this.”

“Oh, come on. I was vulnerable. Give me something here.”

“Nope. You’re not baiting me.”

“You’re definitely the type.”

“The type to what?”

He grins, like he’s about to give you the best psychoanalysis ever. “To believe in serendipity and soulmates and all that shit.”

You stare at him blankly.

“No, hear me out.” He settles deeper into his chair. “You’re the kind of person who still thinks there’s meaning in things. Like if two people keep ending up in the same place over and over again, you think it’s fate.”

Looking away, you shake your head.

Namjoon points triumphantly. “See? That face means yes.”

You collapse backward dramatically against the seat. “God. I hate that you can read me.”

“So I’m right,” he says. “You are a hopeless romantic.”

Yup, read you like a damn book.

You pull your knees closer to your chest, staring down at your socks.

“I think…” You hesitate, suddenly feeling shy. “I think I’ve always assumed there’s somebody out there specifically for me.”

Namjoon doesn’t interrupt. So you keep going.

“Like not a fuckin’ prince charming or anything. Just someone…” You exhale softly. “Mine, I guess.”

The confession sounds embarrassingly earnest once it leaves your mouth.

But Namjoon just nods slowly like he understands.

“I know it’s stupid,” you mumble. “Eomma made me watch too many Disney fairytales.”

“It’s not.”

“Maybe not to you.” You laugh quietly. “But sometimes I feel kinda pathetic about it. Like everybody else grew out of wanting that.”

“You didn’t.”

“No,” you say quickly. “But, I also know now you have to be practical.”

“Practical how?”

“To just accept what version of love that’s handed to you. Even if it’s not perfect. Even if it’s just a semblance of it. At least it’s yours.”

Silence stretches again.

You’re not sure if Namjoon understands what you’re talking about. Or who you’re talking about. 

Or if he even agrees with the idea.

You stare at the city lights again, voice quieter when you speak next.

“I’m scared of ending up alone.” You swallow once before continuing. You’ve only ever admitted this out loud to one person.

Namjoon’s expression softens almost painfully. “That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t.” He smiles faintly. “But I still don’t think it’ll happen.”

You huff out a laugh through your nose when suddenly your phone lights up.

Someone’s calling. You once set a photo and a name for this person. But now, he’s just this emoji: 🙀for security and other reasons.

Just as quickly as you ended the call, it’s buzzing again.

“You gonna take that?” Namjoon asks.

You don’t think about it for long. Shake your head without further delay. “Nah.”

There’s a tiny click and a haptic feedback on your palm before you place your phone face down beside the ash tray.

Funny how Yoongi’s reminding you he exists in this exact time.

“You know what my toxic trait is?” you murmur after finishing your wine.

“What?”

You huff a soft, sad laugh. “I already know love is bullshit. But I still want it anyway.”

That finally makes Namjoon grin.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Me too.”

Something settles warmly in your chest from the strange comfort of being understood by somebody standing in the same weird in-between place as you.

“Wanna hug?”

Disarmed, you blurt. “No. I’m not wearing a bra.” You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling chaste.

“Neither am I.”

The fuck?

Your expression pulls a real laugh out of him, loud and unrestrained, dimples cutting deep into his cheeks as he collapses sideways against the chair.

“You’re actually so stupid,” you wheeze.

He stands up and holds one arm open anyway.

You stare at him for a second before rolling your eyes dramatically and scooting over.

The hug is brief. Warm. Just two lonely human beings holding onto each other for a second longer than usual.

You find yourself wondering how many lonely people are out here tonight. 

In a city this big, probably thousands. But for a little while, there are two less.

Neither of you realizes that as a balcony door shuts somewhere nearby, there’d be one left.

***

[Munich, GE, July 2026]

Yoongi asks you to come over after the first show. Not unusual. What is unusual is that you still have your clothes on. Usually your garments would be flying right off within the first minute or two, especially since you haven’t gotten with him since before Paris.

But not this night, it seems. You even skipped the panties tonight- that's how quick and dirty you thought this would be.

“Give me ten minutes,” he says the second he opens the door, already turning back toward his small setup near the windows, laptop, a tiny keyboard, and a small mic. “I’m just finishing something.”

You narrow your eyes. “Wow.”

He glances back. “What?”

“You’re making me wait.” You kinda sound bratty there, but too late for regrets. “It’s almost my bed time.” 

His mouth twitches faintly as he pushes his glasses higher up his nose. “Stay up for me, baby.”

You scoff under your breath because he is so mean for weaponizing that word, but you toe your shoes off anyway, wandering deeper into the suite while he settles back into the chair in front of his laptop.

You sink into the couch with a sigh. The exhaustion hits you almost immediately. You’re wrung out even more than usual.

Across the room, Yoongi works quietly, keyboard making subtle tapping sounds, mouse clicking every few seconds. Every now and then he mutters something under his breath.

You watch him for a while and you realize there’s something strangely intimate about seeing this part of him. After a few minutes, he leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Can I ask you something?”

You stifle a yawn. “Shoot.”

“I, uh, wrote something.”

Yoongi stares at the screen for another few seconds before finally sighing through his nose.

“I need to know if it’s shit.”

“Okay, read it to me.”

Reluctantly, he mumbles the lyrics in that low rough voice of his. You listen carefully, curled deeper into the couch cushions.

참 말야 바람대로 되는 게 없지 Really there’s nothing that goes the way one wishes 인간관계란 정말 어려워 역시 Human relationships are really difficult, as expected 애초부터 맞지 않는 거였어 From the beginning, we weren’t meant to get along 우리 둘 사이 간극을 The gap between the two of us  좁혀 보려는 것 자체가 억지 it was a forceful attempt to narrow that gap

It’s sadder than what you expected. Lonelier, too. When he finishes, silence settles for a second.

Yoongi doesn’t look at you immediately. He just taps his fingers once against the armrest. “Well?”

You sit up slightly. “I mean…” You hesitate honestly. “I’m probably the worst person to ask. I know nothing about songwriting.”

He shrugs lightly.

“You don’t have to be an expert.” His gaze finally lifts toward yours. “You just gotta be human.”

Something about the way he says it catches you off guard. Like he’s asking for something simpler. More vulnerable. If it made you feel something.

“I think…” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “He feels tired.”

Yoongi’s brows lift slightly. “Tired?”

“Not physically.” You shake your head. “More like…” You search for the right words. “Like somebody who keeps trying, even when they already know how it’s gonna end.”

Silence.

You glance at him, feeling a little silly now. “That’s probably not what you meant, huh.”

“No. Keep going.”

You hate when people say that. Mostly because it means they were listening.

You tuck your feet beneath you. “It feels lonely, I guess. That line about not being able to close the gap.” You shrug. “It sounds like someone who really wanted to understand one person or be understood by them.”

Your voice softens, as a different thought arises. “But, was there really a gap in the first place? He should question that, too. Sometimes, things are much much simpler than what they seem.”

For a moment, Yoongi just stares at his screen. You wonder if you’ve rambled too much. But then he nods once slowly like you’ve landed somewhere close. 

“Yeah.” The word is so quiet you almost miss it.

You smile faintly, leaning back. “Well, if your goal was to make people sad with just a few lines, congratulations.”

A small laugh escapes him. “That’s my brand, apparently.”

“You know,” you continue, “if that song had to be performed, I’d probably picture somebody standing alone after everyone else already left.”

His eyes flick up. “That’s specific.”

You shrug. “You asked a dancer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You guys hear music and think about the track, the production. I hear music and immediately start seeing scenes in my head, movement.”

“Mm.” He leans back slightly. “Tell me what you see.”

You think about it. “A group of dancers in the center of the stage, moving away to reveal somebody sitting on a chair in the middle of their chaos.”

Your gaze drifts toward the city lights outside. “It’s like everybody else moved on already and they’re the only ones still trying to figure out where things went wrong.”

Yoongi is looking at you now. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he breathes. “Damn.”

You don’t know what that means. You don’t think about it again, but sometime in the future, it’s a look that you'll remember.

Yoongi starts typing again after that, keyboard taps and mouse clicks lulling you to sleep like ASMR.

You’re not able to stifle your yawn, and it’s a big one.

“Go sleep in the bed,” Yoongi says and that is not the response you were expecting.

Your eyes widen instantly. “Uh, no.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s your bed.”

“And?”

“And I’m not sleeping there.” 

“Y/N.”

“I’m literally fine.” You curl stubbornly deeper into the couch. “See?”

Yoongi stares at you for a long moment, then shakes his head once. “Suit yourself.”

He disappears briefly into the bathroom while you pull one of the throw blankets over yourself. The couch is unfairly comfortable. Probably even more comfortable than your own bed. And maybe this is the only reason why you stay despite all the good reasons to just leave and pick up where you left off on another day.

You tell yourself you’ll stay awake. Just rest your eyes for a second. Give Yoongi more time because he is in a good flow.

That’s all.

The last thing you vaguely register is Yoongi returning to the room and the soft sound of music playing quietly somewhere near the desk again.

⊙⊝⊜

When you wake up the next morning, sunlight spills warmly across the softest white sheets. Slowly, you bolt upright in the bed, blanket slipping down your lap as your sleepy brain struggles to catch up.

This is not your hotel room.

Nope. This one’s big.

What the hell?

Then you see him. Dark mop of hair on the couch across the room, one arm hanging off the side, the other over his eyes.

Your heart stumbles painfully against your ribs as your mind plays a highlight reel of last night and the realization settles strangely inside your chest. He carried you to his bed and slept out there instead.

Huh. Well, that’s kind of sweet of him, isn’t it? He could have stayed in the same bed, it is his after all, and you’re probably too tired to hear him snore or anything like that. You stare at him fondly for a second too long before ice slides down your spine and panic finally catches up to you. 

In all these months of whatever this is, you’ve never stayed the night ever. Shit. This is not great. In fact, this is a fucking mess. Oh my god. This is–

You’re clambering out of the bed, gathering your things with your pulse thudding wildly in your ears.

Yoongi shifts slightly on the couch and you freeze immediately.

Oh my god. Fuck, he woke up. Shit-shit-shit. How can he be such a light sleeper? 

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“No!”

“Okay.”

You chew off a dry piece of skin from your lip as you watch him push himself up with a grunt. 

“Why didn’t you just wake me up?” You really didn’t mean to, but it sounded like you were accusing him of something.

“You were tired,” he scratches the back of his head.

“You could have let me take the couch.”

Finally, his sleepy eyes meet yours. “I could have,” he says simply before a yawn takes over his face. The insinuation that he could have but he didn’t want to, like he wanted your comfort over his–god what is this you are feeling right now?

Yoongi stretches his arm up and the t-shirt rides up to show his abdomen and the happy trail leading down to… a tall tent in his shorts. You gulp. Because he’s looking very enthusiastic this morning. The fabric of his bottoms are so thin that you can almost see the actual shape of his cock and it’s not computing that you’ve been staring.

He knows, and he makes no move to cover or address the elephant or should you say the anaconda in the room.

Thoughts are forming in your brain, solidifying with each charged second.

“I’m doing room service. Wanna get somethin’ to eat?” He asks coolly, checking his phone for the time.

“Yeah, I do,” you respond firmly, knees burning subtly from where they hit the rough carpet.

Eager fingers curl on the waistband of his shorts, and not even a second later, he’s helping you ease it off him.

“This what you want?” he asks with a wicked grin, clearly enjoying himself. He settles at the edge of the cushion and leans back slightly, legs spread in invitation.

No reply is needed, nope, not when you suddenly have a mouthful of his dick and you get a string of pretty curses in response.

You lick him from the tip to the base, dragging the back of your tongue back up again. Eyes on him, you let your lips pucker, soft and sensual, along his firm length.

Breath quickening, Yoongi sighs, pleasure painted in his features as he watches every move you make. There’s something about having his full and undivided attention like this that makes you feel a little powerful. He’s used to the world watching him, but in this room, it’s like you’re the only one worth seeing and the thought spurs you to perform a little. Make it unforgettable.

You let spit dribble from your mouth like syrup, warm, viscous, pouring straight into the column of his cock in clear swirls. The tip of your tongue spreads it further, coating him inch by inch, before you wrap your lips around his head.

You peer up through your lashes, eyes Bambi-like and beautiful and he already looks positively destroyed.

“Love your mouth. Fuck.”

You moan a little before releasing him with a small pop and giving him a sly, teasing smile.

Licking the palm of your hand, you curl it around his shaft and give it a squeeze. It's a little squishy from your spit and you pump him just enough to see him hang his mouth open with the jolt of pleasure.

After a few firm tugs, he tips his head back with a grin, hair falling softly over his eyes. You absolutely don’t expect what he says next.

“Best morning ever,” he slurs unabashedly, shaking his head like he can’t believe his luck.

You giggle, still massaging his velvety skin. “You haven’t even cum yet.”

“Well whose fault is that?”

Oh?!

“Goodbye asshole. Suck your own co—” You make a move to stand up, but he plants you back down, palms on your shoulders.

“I’m joking, baby,” he says, all gummy-grinned and shit, rubbing your traps, and you hate it so much, but between that stupid smile and that fuckin’ word. Folded.

Yoongi grips his cock, teases the fat tip along your lips, slathering your own spit around your mouth like some kind of lip gloss. “C’mon, baby. You wanna finish what you started, hm?”

An indignant huff and you take him back in your mouth, suckling it noisily for show before you bring yourself forward, a choke rising involuntarily as he touches your tonsils halfway in.

Yoongi hisses. “‘ts what I'm talking ‘bout.”

You swallow once, relaxing your throat to take him further, swallowing again.

“Baby, that feels… fuck,” he praises. “You’re so good at this shit.”

Warmth is spreading on your cheeks, a little caught off guard because Yoongi is usually not this vocal. It seems he's a little less restrained this morning. Looser with praise and affection. Maybe because it’s early and he’s still halfway between sleep and wakefulness. You wouldn’t know for sure because the only time you’ve been with him at this early hour was in rehearsals.

Whatever the reason, there’s something less guarded about him right now from the sounds he lets slip to the way he keeps looking at you, sticky like molasses.

You tighten the seal of your mouth around his girth, bobbing your head up and down, sucking the life force out of him. Whatever doesn’t fit, you pump with a flick of your wrist, twisting your fist every time it bounces lightly against his balls. 

“A-aah…”

Got this grown man stuttering and his deep grunts are making you gush between your thighs. 

As salt starts to coat your tongue, a sharp, unexpected spark of pleasure shoots through you. It takes you a second to realize why. Yoongi’s toe scrapes your center, the material of your thin shorts offering little to no barrier against your bare cunt. 

Is he—? Oh.

Okay.

Shit.

You’re already soaking through your shorts. The thin fabric clings to the slit between your folds, and his toe keeps brushing right over it.

Your mouth hovers his fat bulb, lips barely touching it as the tiny sparks from your cunt renders you immobile.

“You’re drooling everywhere, baby.”

And he’s not wrong.

You moan into his cock.

Honestly you’ve become a little distracted since he started wiggling because fuck—that feels so supremely divine—and you swear you don’t have a foot fetish or anything but! The motions are just driving you in-fucking-sane right now.

Yoongi lifts his hips slightly, thrusting upwards so he is just flopping against your mouth, sliding out to the side of your cheek, then back inside again. 

Brain empty.

Pussy wet.

Eyes completely unfocused.

All the while he dips his candy-coated cock in and out of your pathetic mouth, yanking it back, smearing wetness all over your face, your chin, before sliding back in.

You want to regain your composure, you really do. But you love this, the mess he’s made of you, debauched and desperate for that monster between his legs.

Caressing your jaw, he tilts your chin up, bringing you back to the present. “Will you let me fuck your throat?”

You nod eagerly and he beams like he’s won something. He stands up and you adjust your stance, sitting on your heel like a well-mannered sub. 

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he praises as you watch his reddened head poke in and out of his clenched fist. He gives it a few more pumps, a tiny pearl shining on the slit, before seeking entrance in your mouth.

Just as you open up for him, you lift your gaze to meet his. “You don’t have to be gentle.”

“Tss,” he huffs out a laugh. “You say that now.”

“Try me.”

Yoongi makes a few shallow passes, a gag getting caught in your throat as he goes deeper. You relax your jaw, breathe in sharply through your nose, as Yoongi really shoves it in, hips stuttering at a steady pace. Soon enough, he’s bucking into you with more force, the skin at the edges of your lips tears with every pass.

You’re crying now, oscillating between the pain and the pleasure as he wrecks your shit. Fingers threaded through your hair are spurring you forward as your throat tightens and molds to the shape of him.

You kind of regret egging him on now.

“Oh look at you,” Yoongi gasps. “So fuckin’ perfect. Go on, baby, you can touch yourself.”

It’s not like you to wait for his, or anyone’s, permission. And it just occurred to you that you were maybe waiting for it. What the–

“Mmph…” you cough violently when he unplugs, air finally rushing inwards like a salvation. 

“You okay?” A thumb swipes a rogue tear from your cheek. “We can stop.”

“No, I’m fine.” You reply, shaking your head. 

He studies you for a beat before agreeing, his expression morphing into something achingly fond as he tucks a stray tendril behind your ear. 

Ignore ignore ignore

You busy your fingers underneath damp satin, rubbing your nub raw, distracting you from any discomfort from your abused throat or, worse, from the unsolicited affection. Shit. Thankfully you’re wound so goddamn tight and are just seconds away from tipping over the edge.

“Get yourself off, baby. Make yourself feel good. Wanna see you cum for me.”

Yoongi looks like the devil incarnate looking down on you like that, watching you pleasure yourself.

You're chasing your breath, deliriously close to your orgasm, but you’re able to croak out an instruction that you just know will snuff out the tenderness in his eyes before it undoes you. 

“Paint my face.”

And it sure as hell works, if the way he begins pumping his dick furiously is any indication. Your brain helpfully supplies memories of him impaling you, reaching places inside no man has ever touched before. Soon you’re tipping forward, a desperate cry of his name ripping from your chest, your body heaving, clenching, shaking with the force of your release.

It’s a miracle you hear him beneath the static in your ear drums.

“Shit. Baby, show me your tongue.”

You stick it out for him, soft and flat.

Gripping his shaft, Yoongi slaps his angry-red tip on your wet muscle relentlessly, sloppy thwacks filling the room.

“Fuck,” he curses and gasps with each lewd stroke, tapping his cock into your open mouth, pumping it aggressively, groaning roughly. The veins in his hand flex with every move, and it’s obvious he’s close, so you encourage him.

“I need your cum, Yoongi…” you moan salaciously. “Please…”

You shut your eyes and even in the darkness behind your lids you can imagine his gentle features contorted in ecstasy and with a low growl he vandalizes your face with white-hot spurts of his cum.

It gets quiet after that, the aftermath.

You open your eyes and there it is again, feline eyes gone unexpectedly glassy. He starts rubbing the slick on your cheek, smoothing it like it needs to sink deep. You sense a bead near your mouth and you swoop it in with your tongue, lapping up the liquid with a satisfied hum.

Yoongi sighs, grins tiny. “Stay there.”

You shouldn’t. You should actually get up because your knees are burning, your face is feeling gooey, and a quick douse of warm water would clean you right quick. 

Your heart pounds against your ribs because you know what’s next. The part you always refuse. The part you’ve always pretended to not care for.

Yoongi comes back with a washcloth, sits ass-bare on the couch and coaxes you to follow on his lap. 

Gentle as ever, white is wiped from your skin. The hotel’s terry cloth is a little rough, but he’s so tender with it, one smooth swipe after another until the slick is gone. He flips the towel on the other side and passes it over your face again.

But when the cloth is gone, his own hand stays, thumb tracing the soft swoop of your jaw before brushing across your lower lip, catching it briefly against his finger before letting it slip free.

The gesture draws your attention to his mouth. His tongue flicks out unconsciously, wetting his lips beneath your stare.

God. Would it really be so bad?

It’s only, what, 8 am and he got you doing downright nasty shit, but the fantasy is still as simple as ever.

A kiss.

Slow and lush and unhurried and then maybe fast, faster, tongues tangling and from there it’s just impossible to stop.

You're so close you can imagine it: he cups your jaw, parts your mouth with his, kisses you over and over until you’re dizzy and breathless. You link your arms around his neck, pulling him closer…

“Y/N…” Yoongi snaps you out of your reverie.

You blink back to the present. “Yeah?”

“I fuckin’ hate your rule in case I haven’t told you,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly.

You smush his lips with your palm, shoving his face playfully away before you get off his lap.

It’s still at the tip of your tongue, you know.

His cum.

As well as the truth you almost say out loud: 

You hate it, too.

⊙⊝⊜

It’s been about four months now since the tour kicked off. Long enough that the chaos feels a bit more controlled now.

At the beginning, every venue felt like a maze. Endless hallways, identical black curtains, staff corridors that all looked the same under fluorescent lighting. Now, you can just tell.  You can step into a new stadium and figure it out within minutes. Which tunnel leads to where. Which stairwell gets you quickest to wardrobe. Which backstage corners have decent signal. Which production staff to avoid when they’re stressed.

Tour life doesn’t feel borrowed anymore. It feels like it’s yours. The girls help with that too.

You’ve become closer in the way only people surviving the same madness together can.  Especially Angel who has started dragging you into wardrobe work whenever she’s overwhelmed and needs to yap with somebody. Now you moonlight beside her sometimes before shows, surrounded by rhinestones and loose thread while listening to her bomb ass playlists.

Your latest masterpiece had been Yoongi’s baseball jersey. Well, okay. Masterpiece might be generous. But you did spend almost 40 minutes bedazzling the name Tang and a tiny silver cat onto the sleeve.

You never told him it was you, but during soundcheck, you caught the exact moment he noticed it. His fingers brushed over the tiny rhinestone cat absently before his mouth twitched into that quiet amused grin he gets when something genuinely catches him off guard.

It just might be the prettiest smile you’ve seen on him.

⊙⊝⊜

And then, there’s Namjoon.

There are nights you end up eating backstage together, sharing food while he talks about whatever book currently has him spiraling philosophically. Other times he finds you stretching before rehearsals and starts rambling about his new Pokemon hyperfixation.

Nothing with Namjoon ever feels hidden or awkward.

Your conversations happen under bright lights. In crowded hallways. Out in the open where anybody could walk by and misunderstand absolutely nothing. Even when he invites you to hang out, it doesn’t feel like a secret. He even mentioned it one time within earshot of Jungkook, who seemed unfazed.

Sometimes you catch yourself wondering if this is what being close to someone is supposed to feel like.

Then you stop thinking about it before your mind wanders somewhere dangerous.

Because Yoongi—

God. That’s a puzzle. Maybe even a Rubik’s cube. Or twenty of them.

Because somehow everything between you has stayed exactly the same while also becoming completely different.

The arrangement hasn’t changed. You still slip into his room late at night. Still leave before morning. Still hide behind small rooms. Still finish quick and clean up fast.

But now you know things about him you didn’t before.

The face he makes when he’s concentrating on lyrics. How he goes soft when his eomma checks in late at night. His face in the morning when pleasure washes over his features.

And worse, he’s started knowing things about you, too.

Sometimes he does things that catch you so off guard it leaves you staring at him after like your brain can’t process what just happened.

Tiny things. Like calling you pretty. Like taking you to a Michelin-starred hole-in-the-wall in Madrid. You’re still a little fucked up about that, not gonna lie. 

No matter, they’re inconsequential enough that you can still lie to yourself about them if you try hard enough. And it scares you because the closer you get to him, the harder it becomes to pretend losing him wouldn’t hurt. Though you know you have to. Eventually.

⊙⊝⊜

[East Rutherford, NJ, August 2026]

Production rented an entire pickleball rink in New Jersey and invited anyone who wants to play after the boys’ Run BTS shoot.

A couple of you signed up. You’ve tried it before and you’re pretty decent. Plus, there wasn’t much to do during your day-off and you didn’t want to go outlet shopping with Rei and the other girls.

Eventually you and Seung Eun, Angel, Tiff and some other staff members piled into a van and into The Rink. 

The automatic doors slide open and cool air hits your skin instantly, carrying the sharp smell of rubber flooring and sports cleaner. Bright fluorescent lights spill across polished courts while music from an old BTS album (Love Yourself!) echoes faintly from overhead speakers.

On one court, you see Taehyung aggressively stretch like he’s competing in Wimbledon.

“Wow. He’s so serious about all this,” Angel mutters beside you.

“You’re literally wearing a whole tennis outfit.” You bump your hip against hers.

“It’s aesthetic.” She throws a wink over her shoulder before skipping happily towards her waiting man. 

You find the equipment counter, observing the people who are still around. Jungkook and Jimin probably left already. Meanwhile, Namjoon is sweating buckets by the coolers and Yoongi—

Why is he still willingly here and… oh, he’s running towards you?

“Hello.” You say awkwardly. “Didn’t think I'll see you here.”

“Heard you signed up.”

“Uh, yeah…”

He’s dressed simply. Black shorts. Oversized grey shirt with a small sweat stain on his chest. A baseball cap tugged backwards which is doing inexplicable things to your mind.

“Been wanting to play again,” you murmur.

“You any good?”

“I’m decent.”

“Okay, one game?” He rolls his shoulder, kneading the muscle there.

“Is your shoulder okay to play?”

The question slips out too naturally. Shit. Months ago, this would’ve stayed trapped inside your head, buried beneath all your rules about what you were and weren’t allowed to care about.

Yoongi glances at you. “Mm,” he says. “It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

A beat.

Then the corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “You worried?”

Immediately defensive, you scoff. “No! I just don’t wanna win because your body is 90 years old.”

“Yah! I literally ran a marathon recently.”

“Mhmm and you almost died?” You grin slyly before grabbing an unmanned paddle on the counter, testing its weight. Then, you hit the side of his hip with it. He shakes his head at you, motioning his head for you to follow him.

“So did you win?” you ask about their Run BTS shoot.

“No.” He winces.

“Oh, so you suck at this, too?” You tease, recalling how he was teased relentlessly for his grandpa-esque foot volley performance. 

He narrows his eyes on you, but before he gets a word out, you say, “I can give you some pointers, if you want?”

An arm suddenly slings around your shoulders.

“Y/N-ah.”

Namjoon.

You stumble slightly from the force of it, laughing immediately.

“You’re with me,” Namjoon declares. “Doubles.”

You glance instinctively toward Yoongi and his expression doesn’t change much at all, but his gaze flicks once toward Namjoon’s arm around you before dropping away.

“Ah,” you say awkwardly. “Okay.”

“Perfect,” Namjoon grins. “We’re gonna destroy everybody.”

Yoongi licks his teeth as he declares his teammate. “Jin-hyung and me versus you two.”

Which you didn’t think was unfair at first, but apparently Kim Seokjin is the ace.

“Why are you good at everything?” you yell after he effortlessly sends another shot flying past you.

Jin points his paddle at you smugly. “God gives his hardest battles to his handsomest soldiers.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Namjoon winces before lining up to serve.

Yoongi misses what would have been an easy volley completely and the silence afterward is catastrophic.

“Yoongi-yah!” Seokin explodes and Namjoon hits the floor laughing.

“I thought it was yours!” Yoongi protests immediately.

“It was going to you??” Jin screeches.

You’re laughing so hard your knees nearly give out.

Yoongi glares at all of you. But honestly? He’s terrible. Absolutely terrible! Half the time he swings too late. The other half he hits the ball with way too much force like he’s trying to launch it into 134340. 

Meanwhile, Jin is carrying their duo on his broad ahh back. Like seriously, how come his shoulders are so wide and his arms are a mile long?

“Ah Yoongi, don’t be so useless!” Jin shouts dramatically across the court. 

“We’re still leading by 5 points!”

“Forget the points, your aura’s in the negatives now!”

Yoongi has nothing to say after that, just turns to look at you with a :] and suddenly you are endlessly endeared.

And before you can stop yourself, you holler. “You got this, Yoongi.”

He didn’t expect that. Hell, you didn’t expect to say that out loud, too. But you blame the adrenaline and the endorphins coursing through your body.

Yoongi’s lips press together tightly in a pout. He has this smile that looks reluctant, like he’s trying very hard to stay composed and failing by degrees. It’s a cute look.

Regardless, Yoongi stays terrible after that, but it was kinda worth it to see him a little flustered.

⊙⊝⊜

By the second game, everyone’s sweaty and louder and way too competitive for people who are supposedly here to just have fun.

You’re bent slightly at the waist catching your breath when you feel someone bump your shoulder lightly.

Yoongi.

“You’re with me this round.”

You blink up at him.

There’s no teasing in his voice. No hesitation either. Just quiet certainty.

“Against who?”

He tilts his chin toward the opposite court where Angel and Taehyung are already bickering like an old married couple.

“Oh,” you grin slowly. “Easy win.”

“Really,” Tae points immediately. “Yoongi-hyung, you’ve been taking the L every game.”

“Not this one,” Yoongi says simply beside you. “Not gonna lose with her.”

You look at him. He looks proud.

The game starts pretty badly. Mostly because Yoongi is downright awful.

“You gotta move your feet,” you laugh as he misses another return.

“I am moving!”

“That was one step!”

“I can do two max.”

You shove him playfully. “Get your head in the game, Yoon.”

And somewhere in the middle of the match, something clicks. Not skill. God  no. It’s chemistry. You start anticipating each other naturally.

Somehow, you know when he’ll hit too hard so you compensate automatically. He starts setting shots up for you without realizing it.

At one point you dive for a low ball, barely saving it. Yoongi cuts in and slams the return clean across the court.

The point is yours.

“Oh SHIT!” you yell.

Yoongi turns toward you instantly, eyes wide as adrenaline flashes across his face.

“Fuck yeah,” he laughs breathlessly, holding his hand up.

You smack your palm against his.

“That was sharp!”

“You saved that.”

“No, YOU finished it!”

Tae scoffs from across the net. “The fuck? So much dramatics for one point.”

Angel makes a face at the two of you.

Neither of you even notice, because you’re too busy grinning at each other.

Later, during match point, Yoongi completely whiffs on an easy shot.

“Oh my god,” you collapse against him laughing. “You suck so bad. We could have won.”

“Why do you look happy?” he shoots back.

And you don’t really have an answer for that.

⊙⊝⊜

Or this.

Maybe you’re both tired after pickleball. But tonight, he was exceptionally gentle. Like everything happening was moving in slow-mo.

You’re on your back, the mattress dipping beneath you as he follows, one hand braced beside your head, the other coaxing your thigh to come up around him.

You wind your legs around his torso, ankles crossing at his back as you pull him close.

You feel him slip inside you and when he bottoms out, he exhales softly through his nose, forehead dropping to your neck.

You’re closer than you have been all night. Or ever, it seems.

Everything is so quiet, still. Just the sound of ragged breaths, fanning against each other’s bodies. 

There’s a comfort in the way his cock is nestled inside you like it’s made a home, and for a minute, maybe more, neither of you moves. 

Yoongi groans. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

“I know…” you mumble.

“Shit…” Yoongi rasps, voice frayed at the edges. “Always feels good with you…”

Lifting his head, he nuzzles his nose against yours, brushing lightly as he moans at the way you’re clenching involuntarily.

You’re not kissing. You made it clear from the start. But you’re fighting for the same air, mouths a fraction apart. If either of you leans in even a little…

No. You can’t. That’s your rule.

It should feel casual. It is casual.

His slow gaze moves between your eyes and your mouth, like he’s thinking about it. He’s been doing this more and more, and you don’t know what to do with him.

It’s a question. He’s asking your permission without words.

Your hands slide up around his neck, tugging his hair back with a necessary force because everything else feels a little too soft, a little too real. You lick his bared neck, feeling the vibration from his throat against your tongue as he groans. The tenderness breaks.

“Yoongi. Move…” You claw at his back, resting your palm just above the curve of his ass.

Slow at first, he slides all the way out before stuffing his length back in with enough force to shake the sense out of you.

You cry in pleasure as he pulses his thumb against your puffy folds and wiggles it against your swollen clit. He knows your body so well now. Knows it’s not gonna take much.

“Oh, Yoongi…” you beg as your thighs quiver against his torso, each nasty thrust from him pulling out puffs of air from your throat.

You’re almost folded in half now as he snaps his hips forward, the tip of his cock kissing your g-spot making you delirious.

“I got you,” he rasps, voice low and gravelly. 

And then his hands find yours pressing both palms steady against your own. But then his grip deliberately changes, fingers slipping between yours, interlacing like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You tighten your hold without thinking. And he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he holds on harder.

This is new. Oh this is fucking new and you don’t know what to do.

The rhythm between you turns unsteady for a second—like you both feel it at the same time—and then it settles again, slower, deeper, more intentional.

Your foreheads meet. He huffs your name under his breath. 

You’re feeling so much. His hand in yours. Your legs wrapped around him. The way your breathing falls out of sync and then somehow finds its way back together again.

His pace doesn’t falter even as your walls continue to swallow all of him as your climax nears.

“Baby… I can feel you sucking me in… fuck.”

“Yoongi…”

“Ah… you wanna keep me in, huh?”

Your hips falter at the insinuation, a temporary glitch in your brain, but he picks up the pace again and soon you’re back in that haze.

“Need you, baby…” 

“I’m here…” he whispers, leaning to plant his lips on your cheek, and another, dangerously close to the edge of your lips. “Not going anywhere…”

It’s those words. Lust-driven words dressed up as a vow that did it for you. 

When you come, he follows, spilling himself inside you with a broken gasp.

⊙⊝⊜

You can hear the electric kettle whistling as you step out of his bathroom.

Yoongi stands near the window, chest still bare, trousers sitting deliciously low on his hips.

There are nights you’re still kind of mesmerized by how incredibly handsome this man is. 

Funny how two Kim Seokjins break the thought. Worldwide handsome is staring back at you from cups of Jin ramyeon on the table.

“I got hungry.” Yoongi says simply when he sees you, walking to retrieve the kettle. “Wanna eat?”

Two cups of ramyeon sit on the table. One is already cracked open, seasoning packets emptied inside. The other is still sealed, waiting patiently beside it.

You’re thinking, processing, buffering. You never ever stay beyond the clean-up. But the familiar and comforting smell of the broth makes the decision for you.

<3

//part four

A/N: Hi! Hope you liked? This Yoongi just... honestly, it was hard to write him at first, but I'm kinda falling in lo💥💥💥

ANYWAY! Leave me a note or a reblog with a review, if you want. It's the best way you can show your support.

Thank you for reading, you lovely beautiful human xo

Permanent Taglist: 

@tea4sykes @glossdebut @angellekookie @rottingbedpost @kiki-zb 

@yoonmetogether @wonh0oe @woozuzu @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld

@kimsaerom @kam9404 @00-sleepdontweep-00 @mggv97 @marnz1990 

@tarahardcore @minjenna @aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @vesperbells 

@lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup @futuristicenemychaos @jadestonex7

@granataepfelchen @annyeongbitch7 @chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts

@kpophosblog @tinyelfperson @yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 

@diame93 @withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm- @lilmeowzsworld @minbon 

@sanarin @jimingirl95 @serenadeonacanoe @kittycat1dsn @hanaohreally 

explicit warnings: manhandling, public sex, rough sex, hair/head pulling, oral (m rec), choking, cowgirl, spitting, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, breast play, fucking an ex.... lol, multiple orgasms, the chains stay on, hella backshots, emotional sex, creampie OOP, club sex, reader is bad, yoongi loses his gd mind, couch sex, wall sex, chair sex, umm yeah alexa play like animals thanks

-

-

“What’s taking you so long!” 

Groaning, you concentrate on getting your lashes just right. “Told you it’d be just a minute!” 

“I know.” Hoseok pops into your hotel bathroom, deep neckline and even deeper scent of cologne almost making you jab yourself right in the socket. “But it’s been ten.” 

It’ll end up being a lot longer than that if he keeps cocking that perfect brow. Shouldn’t he know the rule of getting ready already? 

Done with your current task, you blink and inspect yourself in the wide mirror spanning the master bath. “Yeah, a minute means twenty. So I have ten to spare, right?” 

Bright teeth shine as he shakes his head. And you know it’s because you’re both slated to be super early anyway. 

Everything’s going according to schedule. All your old friends flew in yesterday, and the plan for today is to head to dinner to watch the night game with everyone. After that, you’ll walk straight to the club a few blocks down that you’ve heard to be the best in town. 

Well. Best in town for absolute eye candy. Taehyung warned that everyone that’s been to Lo Prohibito knows the dress code is simple but effective: luxurious. Unless your face card is so lethal you get in on that alone, or you happen to have celebrity status. 

And your confidence can only take you so far. You look fucking good, but you aren’t risking being turned away just because you were lax getting ready. 

So ten more minutes it is. Hobi will just have to deal with it. 

Goddamn, he could get in without a single issue, though. Honestly, he could be wearing a linen shirt and shorts with sandals and they’d mistake him for a millionaire. “I’ll be ready before you know it,” you say over your bare, perfumed shoulder. “You’ll be able to see your lover soon enough.” 

Hoseok shoots you a grin before huffing out, “Got me, huh.” 

“You’re the easiest person in the world to read.” Leaning over your makeup bag, you rummage through your brushes. “Whatever you’re thinking is always written all over your face." 

Quick laughter coats the bathroom in more light. “I can’t help it, okay! It’s always been that way.” When you focus in the mirror and pat your face, he suddenly drops two pitches in tone. “Sorry about yours.” 

Here you go again. You know exactly what he’s talking about. 

“Hobi,” you sigh. “I don’t care anymore, okay? It’s been a month.” 

“I know, but…” Expelling a heavy, sympathetic breath of his own, he leans against the double door entryway. That dulcet yet gravelly tone of his rolls across marble floors as he says exactly what you don’t want him to, “You seemed pretty happy with them.” 

You were. In fact, you were more than happy. 

But something just didn’t feel right. Sure, the days you spent with your most recent fling were perfect. You felt comfortable with them, you admired how thoughtful they were and how attentive. 

It was the nights that made you more than hesitant. 

Because no matter how many times you slept together, you never felt truly understood. What you wanted, what you needed? They would get so close to getting it right, only to never reach that level of intensity and passion you were looking for. 

So you broke it off one quiet, cherry-red sunset on the beach weeks ago. 

Only to find out that they were seeing someone else the whole time anyway. 

Fuck love. To hell with happiness. Why do all your relationships end up this way? Why do you always attract the people that seem perfect on the surface but hide so many flaws underneath? It’s starting to fucking annoy you and you may damn well swear to the single life forever. 

Though. There was one relationship that didn’t exactly end this way. 

But you’re never thinking about that one again, so no point in shuffling through those beautiful, tragic, regretful memories now. 

“And now I’m happy without them,” you finally respond to Hoseok, who tears his gaze from the white floors to see you staring in the mirror. “Probably happy without anyone else, actually.” 

What a fucking lie. 

“I mean, there’s time to find someone you...” Your friend pockets a hand while adjusting his loose top, shadows naturally accenting his abdomen. “Never mind. See you out there. Love the red.” 

You swish the silken floor-length material of your gaudy, quite revealing dress. “Thank you. This is my favorite part, look.” 

Hoseok watches as you stomp your leg out of the thigh-high slit so comically it catches him off guard, cackling before a lighthearted, “Careful with that!” 

“Says the man who’s practically naked.” 

All you get is a shameless shrug before your friend spins on this heel to leave, no doubt checking the texts on his phone. 

At least he's excited about seeing his gorgeous pull after so long. And you do not blame him one bit. The way he looks at her? She may as well be a goddess because his gaze turns almost reverent every time. 

A blurry memory consumes your mind like a haze, and you see completely different eyes with just as much fervor. They watch as you mount slow, chests slick with sweat and breathing deep from hours of—

Manicured hands grip the sink as your brush skitters onto granite counters. 

Fuck. Never again. 

Never, ever, ever again.

Pull yourself together. You’re a whole different person with a whole different future. That version of you is one you left far behind, as well as the life that came with it. 

You extend ten minutes into fifteen. 

And Hoseok’s outright whistle at your emergence lets you know the extra time was worth it. 

—

—

Dinner is loud and vibrant, with the whole restaurant locked in on the game and erupting in cheers when the home team scores. Or at least, the team that the majority of fans want to win scores. 

You aren’t completely sure, because there are jerseys of every country everywhere you look. It’s the one time you feel a sense of togetherness, with everyone giving each other friendly jabs and your group doing and saying anything to rile each other up. 

Hoseok is downright lethal with his date, the two of them showing off jawlines that can kill as they watch the nearest screen. But they’re on the other end of the long wooden table, so you have to find other people to converse with. 

Unfortunately, you find that the person sitting in front of you is a stranger, seemingly knowing someone else in the group and just happened to tag along. He quickly offered small talk when you all started ordering, which you already found a little awkward because you were trying to focus on what to get. 

Now, he keeps giving you more and more information about his achievements and endeavors, not once asking for your name. Figures.

Both the friends you’re sitting next to are no help, either. 

To your left, Jeongguk’s checking his phone for the fiftieth time this hour, scrolling through videos to avoid having to speak to anyone. 

And to your right, Taehyung cheers and stands when another goal is scored, locking elbows with the stranger behind him and drinking from his glass mug. Apparently he had been making fast friends while you were entertaining the guy that keeps staring at you. How cool. Happy for him. Can you both switch seats? 

Your wish doesn’t get granted for another hour. So that means you’re still talking to and giving polite encouragement to this gentleman. Though the term gentleman is very, very generous. It became more than obvious he just wants to fuck from the way he's been shamelessly ogling your plunging neckline. 

Mercifully, Jeongguk finally saves you, leaning in and pretending to show you a reel or tiktok or whatever the fuck he’s scrolling through. Instead, a text he typed into your message thread is all you see. 

Wanna go outside?

Going along and laughing at his fake share, you give him a grateful smile and nod. Turning to the man watching you with curiosity—and is that really jealousy?—you excuse yourself, 

“We’re gonna check out the second floor! Be right back.” 

Not even waiting to see nor hear his reaction.  

—

—

Outside the restaurant and not on the second floor, you can finally breathe again, watching the city come alive with its vehicle rush and streetlight hum. 

Next to you, your tattooed savior takes a long hit of his vape, and you run a hand across the thin gold chain around your neck. 

Without your permission, another memory slips through your defenses. And this one proves sharper, astonishingly clearer than the first.

Hands grab a string of gold from a nightstand, and you instantly ache because you remember what comes right after. As soon as it’s clipped onto a slim neck, you watch the necklace lower, and lower, right before you angle your mouth up to take it between your—

“Fuck.” 

Jeongguk whips his head right as your eyes snap open. “You okay? What’s wrong?” 

No. There are a thousand things wrong. You didn’t even fucking realize your vision went dark until light flooded out your unwanted nostalgia. 

Fuck, you hadn’t thought of that summer afternoon in years. Your reaction was visceral enough to spurn an oncoming headache. “Nothing,” you whoosh out. “What time is it?” 

“Almost time to head over to Lo Prohibido.” Gripping his phone, the man asks with concern, “You sure you’re good to go?” 

Head pulsing, you nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, just dehydrated. Can you pick a city that won't try to burn me out next time? I'm down for traveling but it's been hell here.” 

Unconvinced and unfazed, Jeongguk cocks his head to the door. “Let’s go back in. I know your favorite person is waiting, but you gotta drink water.” 

“Don’t,” you groan. “He’s cute, but I got the biggest ick like halfway in.” 

Your amused friend giggles as he holds the door open, “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would.” 

Laughing when more cheers erupt from inside, you give his jacketed arm a playful shove as you look down the street. “I’m nice, okay? Don’t—”

Your heart. 

It booms. 

In an instant, the whole world blurs, lights and bodies making solid, serpentine lines and even sound itself rolling to a deep, dull hum.

The only one you can see. The only person you can make out with perfect clarity. 

Is the one you’ve been trying your fucking hardest to not remember. 

Staring right at you with eyes you’ll never, ever forget. 

Yoongi. 

He’s just down the way, standing amongst a group with a striped jersey, dark hair swept so perfectly your chest pangs. Even though everyone around him is animated and laughing, the look on his face makes it undeniable he’s not focused on anything else.

And with a stopped heart, neither are you.

Until your lower back is held, tugging you out of the dream as Jeongguk’s question is laden with worry, 

“Seriously, what’s going on? Do you need to go back to the hotel?” 

You jolt away from his touch, but the action isn’t warranted. For fuck’s sake, he’s a friend you’ve known just as long as you've known the spectre down the street. Why did you feel the need to escape his worrisome hand? He isn't like the guy you just met.  

If that dude had been the one to touch you, though, you would’ve fucking decked him. You are not letting him feel an inch of your skin, and that includes the majority of it you’re baring at the back. 

“No, I’m—I’m fine,” you manage to get out. “Just thought I saw.. Never mind. Water.” 

Yoongi would’ve damn near murdered that creep, too. 

Shit. 

Right before stepping back in, you turn to peer back down the sidewalk, brain concluding that what you saw was your imagination and your heart adamantly disagreeing. 

However, there’s no sign of Yoongi anywhere. That same group of people continues to chitter away outside, but he’s nowhere to be seen. 

So your logic is sound. It was just a dream. There’s no way he’d be here, and he looked way too fucking handsome to be real anyway. Maybe your mind is just playing tricks on you as an act of revenge for making it remember him this much today. 

Because you’re remembering everything. The way he knew exactly how to get under your skin. The times he proved so patient. The way he absolutely knew how to act under your sheets. 

And his. And elsewhere. Anywhere the two of you decided to make love. 

And that singular word is exactly why your flame burned its brightest before choking out. 

You were ready. 

He wasn’t. 

And you regret your decision to leave more than anything else in your entire life. 

Because you could’ve fought harder. You could’ve given him more time. But when you confessed under a blanket of stars and didn’t hear those three words reciprocated, every single celestial plummeted from the sky, plunging you headfirst into a deep, dark ocean of insecurity and bubbling self-loathing. 

The night you left, you left everything. You left your room, your apartment, the city you called home your entire life. Like a coward that couldn’t face rejection. 

Because you didn’t even tell Yoongi goodbye. 

And that’s the last damning reminder you hurl at yourself before rejoining your friends inside. 

—

—

You readily down two glasses of water. 

Inwardly laughing at the fact that the same dude straight up left to “meet up with his brochachos.” 

—

—

Lo Prohibito is decibels louder than the restaurant, and that includes the moments everyone cheered to the max.

A dazzling laser show beams from behind the raised DJ booth, and machines shoot out air to provide much needed circulation and boost the spread of confetti. 

To your delight, everyone here is just as pretty as you imagined. You’re thanking all your lucky clovers that you were accepted inside, strutting in on your heels with chin held high. 

Maybe not as high as it could go. 

But you refuse to let anything else bring you down tonight. You’re supposed to be having another great outing, spending it with your friends and enjoying the nightlife while you’re still able. 

Bright colors span across every surface as a thumping bass shakes your toes, and you wait for the rest of your group to trickle in to find a good dancing spot—and a much needed drink because you are desperate for one. 

At this point, you’ll pay any price to forget whatever the fuck you saw earlier. 

Be it a figment of your imagination, or a devilishly attractive ghost, you just need to wipe that achingly handsome face from your mind. 

There’s no way he’s here. And even if who you saw was real? It wasn’t the man you loved. 

Because there’s no way Yoongi would even look your way again. 

Not like you want him to anyway. Forget him. He gave you everything except the one thing you ultimately wanted, and you couldn’t live in his moonlight without your stars slowly burning out.

Breathe. Focus on the present. Stay in the now. 

“Come on,” he instructs, holding your fingers before grabbing your waist. “Stay with me.” 

“Sorry,” you whisper to your stumbling feet. “I just keep messing up that damn step and it’s annoying.” 

“I know.” He grips your hand, turning so that you land against his chest, comforting tone soothing your burning ear, “But you got a lot more chances to get it. We got time. Stay in the now.” 

“Okay.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

“Come on!” 

Your past whisks away with the club fog, and you follow Hoseok and the rest off the crowded floor. “Where are we going!” 

Hand on the nearest winding staircase, he turns with a smile. “Got us VIP! We’re up here.” 

“No fucking way?” How the hell did Hobi manage to do that? Wasn’t this place booked up the last time you both checked yesterday? “How!” 

Cheekily, the man simply plucks at his undone overshirt and wiggles, smirking as his date doubles over in a laugh. 

“Oh, you’re a freak,” you call out behind him with praise. “Thank you for your service.” 

Thank Jung Hoseok and those abs indeed because the VIP booth is a godsend. Sure, it’s still crowded on the second floor, but at least you don’t have to worry about standing shoulder to shoulder the whole night. You have somewhere to retreat to when you need a breather. 

Which Jeongguk is already taking the most advantage of, settling into the middle of the booth and planting elbows on the long table stretching end to end. Music blares while people shout all throughout the club, but he seems quite zeroed in on his phone. 

Maybe you can both use each other as a scapegoat again if you need to leave. He’s been enjoying himself for the most part, but you can tell he’s extremely ready to go home and the night just started. If you weren’t desperate to let loose and forget years of your life tonight, you would’ve offered to get shitty fast food with him and walk around the city instead. 

Mm. That still sounds like a backup option. 

“Who wants drinks!” Taehyung calls out from the far end of the booth, standing to wave someone down and glancing at everyone giving him their orders all at once. “Let’s just get bottles!” 

Perfect. He knows exactly what to do, so you let him drive and settle into the booth to wait for the liquid ailment to your problems. 

This club has it all, you muse as you take everything in. From endless bottles and extravagant cocktails sailing over the crowd, to sparkler shows and pops of streamers raining down from above, it’s a paradise of a getaway. 

But the outfits? To your surprise, you feel slightly out of place, even arguably overdressed wearing the most expensive thing you own. Yes, there are loads of tens walking around, even some elevens and twelves if you’re honest. But you do see quite a few people in outfits as casual as Jeongguk’s leather.

Either way, almost everyone is dripped in the most lavish jewelry and clothing, from designer to exclusive to wait someone got in wearing a jersey? 

How the hell? Despite the outfits you saw there hasn’t been anyone in here with a jersey, is he famous? It's the same one you saw on the sidewalk when you—

Fuck. That’s not him, is it? You can’t quite see his face, but that back is so… 

No. No no no. You’re staying here for awhile so that better have been another mind trick or you're taking that backup plan with Jeongguk immediately—

“Here,” Taehyung catches your attention while hastily holding out a glass. “This is what you wanted, right?” 

You take it with shaky fingers. “Yes, it’s perfect, thank you.” 

When you turn back, the red and white stripes are gone. 

And you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

“You okay?”

Turning, you notice that Tae’s eyes are extremely focused on yours. You nod as you down your shot in one go. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His honey rasp slows on the way out, “You sure..?”

“Yeah.” When you push more of the stinging, sweet alcohol down, you decide to start telling him what you saw. “I just… I thought I saw…”

Taehyung is one of the only ones that never questioned why you left town. Which you’re grateful for, because you couldn’t handle all your other friends sending you text after text after call. It was fucking overwhelming, but you had one person that just allowed you to make decisions and live with them. 

“Saw who?” He asks, cutting through your vision with long fingers in a wave and calling you back to reality. 

“No one.” You don’t even wanna say his name. It carries the weight of the world. “Forget it! I’ll be good as soon as we start.”

Unconvinced but letting you have space, Tae doesn’t pry. 

“If you say so.”  

—

—

For the next hour, everything is great. You play stupid drinking games with your friends, cheer for the most random shit the house emcee yells, and you start to slowly wash the unwanted memories from your mind. 

At one point, Jeongguk stuns the section by dancing on booth cushions and swinging his jacket, revealing he only had a thin tank underneath. Many people stare slackjawed at his physique and understated choice of outfit, but you can only cackle with your friends because you all know he’s gonna go right back to his phone in seconds. He just really, really likes the song playing. 

And you’re enjoying the DJ set, too. As long as they don’t play specific songs, you can enjoy the rest of the night in absolute peace. 

Especially the one song that haunts your every waking moment. The first time you heard it, in a club somewhere along pink lemonade sand, you trudged knee deep into the crashing tide and didn’t leave until the sun dipped under the horizon. 

Because it hit too close to home. And your deluge of tears gave back infinite saltwater to the sea. 

Relax. Don’t throw any possibilities into the atmosphere, especially when your mind is fucked up tonight. Your friends are heading down to the dance floor, so go with them and forget everyone else. 

Making sure your drink is finished, you feel ice hit your lips before clinking it down, rushing to join your group at the top of the staircase. 

Only to stutter so close to the edge your heart leaps out of your chest.

It keeps falling, and falling. Because there’s no mistaking this time. That man you saw wearing the outfit that’s starting to haunt you? He’s talking animatedly to someone across the second floor, dusty pink elbow perched on the railing with a drink in his still so veiny hand. 

And your mouth turns sour at the way his shoulder is tapped by pretty nails, tongue hot and darkly spiced when Yoongi just laughs into his cup.

God. He’s here. He’s devastating without even trying.

And, as your blasphemous logic reminds you, that beautiful smile will never be yours anymore.

But that doesn’t stop you from staring. Because while on the street, you could’ve argued he was a hallucination birthed from dehydration. Right here, in this moment, you’ve sobered up in a snap and you know for a fact what you’re seeing is real.

Maybe it was better when you assumed he wasn’t. 

At least then, you didn’t have to entertain any worse outcomes than just seeing him. You didn’t have to think about how you’d feel seeing him so close to someone else.

Looks like the universe is giving you the final consequences of your escape. Yoongi has your fate in the warm, rough palm of his hand, and you know he’ll do nothing but let it fall to the rumbling floor below. Just to watch with unblinking eyes.

“Hey, you gonna go down or what?”

Turning, you start to move to the side, embarrassment heating the skin of your back that was just lightly grazed, “Shit, sorry—”

A strong arm pushes you sideways into hard metal as a duo of guys head down the stairs. You figure it’s an accident, but that doesn’t stop your face from contorting in pain and a curse to fling from your mouth. Because damn that fucking hurt. 

“Dude, watch it!” The one behind looks back at you to apologize, “Sorry about my—”

Oh… Really… 

The guy from dinner halts in his apology, and your brow lifts right before he waves you off. 

Waves you off. 

At least your intuition is always spot on. Good riddance, you were completely valid to ditch his brochacho ass earlier. 

Rolling your eyes skyward and even aiming a petulant tongue at his retreating back, you scoff before leaning on chilled metal, letting a moment pass before heading down to Taehyung and the rest of them. 

Where are they anyway? If you don’t spot them from here it’s gonna be hard to find them on the.. ground.. 

Your heart looks up before you do.  

And you catch your ex watching intently from across the way, phone sliding from his ear before he straightens to start walking. 

…Towards you? 

Fuck. 

It’s been bad enough catching glimpses of Yoongi and seeing him entertain someone else. If he gets one foot right in front of you? Everything you’ve worked so hard to build up against him and the haunting memories of your relationship will collapse into dust. You can’t bear him seeing how you haven’t changed your fucking mind. 

To your utmost pain, all roads have always led back to him. No matter how deep you relate to or click with someone, no matter how happy another person makes you, no one has come close to how Yoongi made you feel. 

Because he’s the only one that understood even the darkest parts of you. And he’s the only light in your life you ran away from. 

There’s a reason you watch every sunset. There’s a reason you stand on the beach back home and don’t move your sandswept legs until the last rays give way to the ocean line. 

It’s because of the guilt. The guilt of turning away from the warmth you held in your hands and the warmth you left behind. 

Your eyes stay tethered as your ex makes his way down the long side of the upstairs balcony, partiers smushing together and bottles roving over his head as ladies take them to VIP tables. 

Based on the heat in his eyes? Yoongi’s on the universe’s side. There’s no way he’s seeking anything else other than revenge. 

Shit, shit shit. This isn’t good for you. Literally nothing great nor healthy can come out of this if he ends up in your orbit. One word, two words, and even worse, three words from those unforgettable lips would destroy you and never let you recover. 

But your hands stay tight on the warming railing. And they won’t fucking let go. 

Downstairs. Go down the stairs. Go. 

Yoongi’s almost here. All he has to do is round the corner. He's close enough for you to notice the silver chains adorning his neck.

And the last thing you think with a withering heart is how devastatingly handsome he’s become. 

With a tight breath, you pelt high heels downward one hasty step at a time. Winding, winding, spiraling like the thoughts storming your mind. The further down you go, the farther away he is. 

Your heel catches on your dress before you stumble, but you don’t look back to see if Yoongi’s even still behind you. 

Chill the fuck out and don’t fucking trip. You already had nasty falls before with scars to prove it and a sticky club floor is the worst place to sprawl onto. 

Keep going. Disappear into the crowd. Go find your friends. 

And deal with the unmoving, gaping hole in your chest later. 

—

—

It takes you awhile to find them, but soon enough, you're back to having the time of your life. The lineup of DJs is all stellar, with only a few misses here and there, even getting Jeongguk to stay on the dance floor longer than you expect.

What's even better? There's no sign of Yoongi. Surrounded by sweaty bodies and flashy grins, you don't catch a single glimpse of him in the crowd.

Good. That's good, right? You wanted this. You wanted to avoid him and run, just like you did the last time.

Your group starts to split up in the commotion of lights and confetti and streamers, but you're fine dancing on your own. With each ebb and flow of music, you lose yourself, letting your heart get swept away by stories of love and loss. Every song holds a piece you understand. Every verse carries the same message.

You aren't alone in being alone.

So embrace it. Let the hurt come later. Smiling wide, you await the next song up, arms thrown in the air with everyone in beautiful togetherness around you.

Then it starts.

The one song you knew you'd hear at some point but sure as fuck didn’t want to.

While people around roar at the familiar opening, you feel like disappearing entirely. Where’s the nearest coastline? You need a rising tide. 

As the melancholic notes buzz up your chest, you slowly, quietly, lower both arms to your sides. Around you, the floor moves in sensuous circles and dips, and you envy everyone for not feeling how you feel. This glowing, searing pain setting your chest ablaze until it’s nothing but a pile of cinders, only to be washed away with the waves crashing against your knees.

With each scathing line, your heart cries, remembering exactly why it hit too deep. All those lessons you took that started on a whim. All those sunny afternoons practicing and stumbling about your living room. All those times you were held close and knew there’d be no one else.

Your heart isn't strong enough to stay in the now. It doesn’t want to. It will always remain in the past, on a rooftop gazing into a sea of stars and hoping for a different outcome. 

Night, after night, after night. 

Suddenly, you’re back in the past, too.

Because a hand, so sure and so steady, settles onto your hip from behind, and your eyes burn when another slides along your bare shoulder. Heat from a body you can sense from anywhere in the fucking universe warms the skin at your back, and you shake as lips touch the shell of your ear to whisper three words that shatter what’s left of your soul, 

“One last time.” 

You aren't in the past. You're here. And so is he.

Breath whooshing out in a hitch, your throat is in absolute flames as your eyes slide shut. Then you nod, because you can’t think of doing anything else, and you allow him to lead.

And he feels so perfect against you it hurts. 

You feel how strong he’s gotten, how sturdy and lean. And yet, you also feel the same soft give you used to feel all those years ago. You know how pliant he could become under your mercy, just like all those times he gave you complete control. If you faced him, you could run your hands along that stomach you’ve kissed every inch of a thousand times over. 

But you’re too much of a pathetic coward to turn around. 

When you back into him, his quick hiss into that groan you miss so fucking much flips every warning light in your body. But you can’t help it. You know this dance, this connection, this reunion will be the last you will ever have. 

He never loved you. You never said goodbye. 

Everything that’s left unsaid swirls around you as you move in perfect sync, both your hips moving as one and your hand snaking up and back to grip his neck fuck he feels just like home. 

Yoongi… Still feels like home. 

A single, hot tear leaks from your eye as you sway, burning a path down your cheek as your other hand closes tight around fingers holding your side. When he grips you even tighter, another tear betrays you, and you feel his lips so close to your neck you expect him to kiss there if he wanted to. 

But he doesn’t. 

Of course he doesn’t. 

So you take what you’re given. A dance. Just one. One last unforgettable dance before your life changes all over again. 

Knowing this song by heart, you know it’s approaching the end. The bittersweet last chorus clues you in, and you tense around his neck just a little tighter, hoping Yoongi didn’t catch the need in your fingers for this moment to never end. 

Mother Earth can swallow you whole as soon as the last word is sung. You give her your express permission. 

Because you feel so hopelessly in love all over again, and you can’t bear your affection to be unreciprocated a second time. 

Just like that. Against your deepest, sincerest wishes. 

The song dies. 

And immediately after, as if your world hasn’t just been upheaved and tossed to the wayside, the next number booms. Everyone on the dance floor cheers again when it’s extremely familiar and a faster tempo. Even more people fill the floor because they need to feel this one in their bones. 

And you need nothing else but to leave. 

Get out. Go. Yoongi said so, right? One last time. It’s over. This tension between you needed an outlet and that song was the one out you both could use to set it free. 

And it’s done. So you start your brisk walk away.

Only for your wrist to be held and your heart to fall out of your ribcage. 

Fuck.

When you turn, you forget you’re tear-streaked and full of painful regrets. 

And the look on Yoongi’s face heats your soul all the way through. 

Because his eyes are unwavering, brows cut deep and mouth completely shut. Over his forehead, tendrils of mussed bangs sweep slow, and his chest rises and falls with every hard, wordless breath he takes. 

And you finally get the courage to whisper his name. 

Without a word, he slowly pulls you in, not stopping until your hands softly push into his strong chest and your face is inches from his. All heavy bass and bright beats of music fall away. All lights shift until you can only see him. 

Time. All that time apart vanishes when you finally feel this close again, his steady expression watching you with an emotion you can’t place but feel ripping at your walls to destroy them. 

What is happening? What’s he doing? 

Does he know he has the power to hurt you in ten million different ways?

Fingers rise to wipe the sadness from your face, only inviting more to pour from your eyes. “Yoongi,” you whisper again, breaking the dam you’ve been building block by block this whole time, just like you were afraid of. And you can’t fucking stop. “Yoongi…”

Then, when his eyes slide shut, you think he’ll let you go. Why can you only say his name? Why the fuck are you ruining this singular moment that you’ve only dreamed of having wait wait why is he resting his forehead against yours fuck wait—

“You know how long,” he breathes out, “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that again.” 

Have mercy.

Your soul finally snaps in two. 

You can only say it once more, broken and chipped, before Yoongi grips your jaw and kisses you like it’s his last minute on earth. 

And you push back with a ferocity that’s been dormant for years, a magnificent flame never awakened by anyone else. Nothing else. Just him. Only him. 

Rivers stream from your eyes as his arms circle you, hands gripping the skin of your back as your nails rake down his. Around you, people dance and bump into your bodies, but neither of you seem to fucking care. No one else exists. The only music you hear is every deep breath Yoongi takes and it’s your favorite, favorite, favorite.

You shouldn’t be doing this. There’s no possible way this doesn’t leave you without a broken heart and a shell of whatever intact spirit you have left. 

But goddamn if you don’t stay in the now more than ever. 

“I don’t give a shit,” you tumble into his mouth, waiting until he pulls away enough for you to spill every forbidden thought you’ve harbored in your beating chest. “I don’t care if you never loved me. I don’t care if you moved on. I just—just tonight, Yoongi, I need you—”

Your plea is engulfed by another soulshaking push of his lips, and you think that’s the end of it until he tugs away from you before swerving his head around the floor. 

“Come here,” he orders, gripping your hand and reminding you just how perfect his fingers slot with yours. 

Time. You’re getting more time? Your tears and the burning in your chest don’t quell as you’re led through the crowd. When you get strange or pitied looks, you don’t care. All these perfectly dressed people can fuck off. 

When they stare at the man guiding you, that’s what gets your stomach flaring. They can have him. Just after you get one last time to carry you through the rest of your loveless life. 

Yoongi suddenly turns to look at you trailing behind, and he waits to bring you in front of his side, now leading you both together through the rest of the packed floor. 

Ah. This is the man you remember. 

And that just makes everything hurt even more. 

Soon, you’re led off the dance floor and through a series of turns, Yoongi heading up a long back staircase before rounding into a hallway of doors before he checks each one. 

What are these? Karaoke rooms? Party rooms? You don’t know, but the ache in your body hunches you over, and it takes everything to not crumble before he finally stops and yanks open a door. 

“Yoongi, what are you—?”

A dim, neon-lit room is what you come to, and you hear a faint click while noticing the long window looking out into the club below.  Different lounge chairs and couches fill the space, and you can see just enough out the glass to know you’re even high above the VIP tables. The room feels exclusive but you don’t get to observe anything else as you’re being pushed into the nearest wall to be liplocked again. 

Fuck, he’s gotten even better at this. 

Just like you have. 

As your dress is gripped tight, your thoughts all blur together in a lustful slurry. How many has he taken to bed after you? Do you remember your own count? Has anyone else made him feel like you do? With a searing green flare, you remember that no one has come close to him. How awfully one-sided would that be if he found someone that completed him.

A veiny hand grips the side of your neck before sliding to your head. “Fuck,” Yoongi grits out. “I… I can’t.” 

...What? 

No. No no no. 

Your heart begins its fast descent. Because if Yoongi doesn’t want this, you have to respect that. As much as you will scream into the night, you’re not gonna stop him if he gets up and leaves. 

Because you did. So why shouldn’t he get that same chance to destroy you? 

“I get it,” you hitch out, holding his strong wrist with shaky fingers. It’s only fair. This felt too good to be true anyway. “I know.” 

“It’s not that.” Yoongi slides his free hand on the wall, holding it at your shoulder. “I just… Fuck, if we do this, I can’t promise I’ll hold back.” 

Oh. Fuck that. 

You tug the warm silver around his neck. “Then don’t,” you urge to his grunt. “If this is all we get? I don’t fucking care.” 

“Even if I t—”

“Do it, Yoongi,” you plead with a gritted cry. “You can do anything to me, whatever it is just do it.” 

“Fuck.” 

All doubt flees from his eyes as your back gets smushed into the wall, your lips puffed and parting when he places hot, open mouthed kisses down your column. 

Hands keep their quest in gathering up your dress. And you make quick work of his belt before pulling, tugging, yanking it out of its holster. 

“The fuck,” he shoots out. “Who the fuck taught you that?”

Your eyes flicker to his as you grip the hem of his jeans. “You really wanna know?”

“No.” He switches up on a dime. “Don’t tell me.”

Your lips collide again before he rips his mouth down to attack your chest, nipping at a spot that has you flinching and hand sliding between your legs. When he runs a finger along your underwear, his eyes practically burn out as he growls, “You’re this fucking wet already?”

“I told you,” you gasp out. “I need you.” 

Your hand is yanked to the front of his jeans, and shock and emotion completely cover the expanse of your face feeling how unbelievably hard he is.

Unfazed, Yoongi continues kissing up to your shoulder, leaving hot saliva trails all over your skin and bunching your silk in his hands. “Seeing you in this? Lost my shit.”

“You're lying.”

“All fuckin' night."

“Liar.”

Liar, liar. A bold faced lie. You saw him talking to other people. You saw his anger piercing across the club. But you watch as his look levels, and your cheeks sizzle at the way he shifts his jaw, 

“I’d never lie to you.” 

Shit. Your heart bats eyelashes before you shove it out of frame. 

The organ in your chest is a walking liability, especially when it’s connected to your mouth. So there are many, many things you might reveal tonight in the throes of agony and passion. Things you will regret come morning waking to an empty bed. 

The best way to not say anything that could potentially do more harm than good? Keep your lips occupied. And that’s exactly what you intend to do. 

“We’ll see,” you grit out, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. When Yoongi lets you twist to shove him back against the wall, his eyes flare in dark need when he hisses, 

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” 

To show him how you’ve grown in the years you separated, to show him what he could’ve fucking had. 

To show him that you aren’t taking a single bit of this last, serendipitous night for granted. 

Kneeling slow, you slide your hands along his clothed chest, kissing his chains exactly how you used to and smearing lipstick all the way down his jersey.

“Fuck…”

Balancing on your heels, you wince at the tight bend in your knees, but you aren’t going down completely because your kneecaps aren’t what they used to be. Fuck that. You can do plenty in a low squat anyway, and he’s seen you look a hell of a lot more awkward many times. “Shit,” you still whisper. “You’re lucky I can’t wait to swallow you.”

A curse flings out of his mouth. “Get up, babe.”

Heart ringing at the name, you reject his order with a harsh, “Shut up.” 

You want this, and you know for a fact he does, too. When Yoongi tries to bend, you pull down his underwear, springing his cock free and almost salivating at the sight. 

Just like you remember. Everything about him is just how you remember, and yet his body has only gotten stronger and filled out in all the perfect places. Yoongi’s a man now. A real, grown man. 

If you both just met tonight, you know he would’ve asked for your name before anything else.

Cut the shit. You are not getting into that now, not when you have him with hands trembling against a wall before you take him in your palm. As soon as you touch, Yoongi expels a deep groan, kicking his head back and gripping the wall with a large hand.

What’s going on? You haven’t even done anything yet. Why does your chest constrict at how sensitive he is? This isn’t the time to relax, but you really can’t help but soften at his complete and utter unravelling. 

It’s almost as if nothing’s changed. 

Yoongi lowers his gaze, and you lock glistening eyes before you take him in your mouth, slow on the tip and swirling to get it coated and prepped just right. Your hand expertly glides along his solid, slick length, squeezing at the spot you know makes him fold. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasps out, hand hesitating to palm your head before balling in a fist against plaster. “Shit, babe..”

Again? Does he even realize what he’s saying? Is he trying to hurt you because if that’s his goal it’s fucking working. 

Anger, regret, painful nostalgia drives you forward, sinking his velvety ridges inside your throat and proving to him how much better you’ve gotten. With every plunge, you hollow your cheeks, already feeling the telltale searing at your eyes and spiraling up your throat. His endless stream of sounds and praise tumble down your skin, and you keep sucking mercilessly even when his hips buck and his eyes squeeze tight.

Releasing with a loud pop, you feel a huge strain on your soaked legs as you adjust, tilting your drenched chin to bury your face in his sack to lick and take it in.

“Baby..”

At this new, old nickname, you grip his cock tighter, swallowing him whole again just to hide your real tears behind the ones streaming from taking him in so deep. 

More. You give more, and more, and more. Time will take away everything else so what you can give is all you got.

Hands grip your head in desperation, and you let Yoongi push you onto his length until your airway is closed tight, nose and cheeks flush against the skin of his thighs. His scent is heady and just like you remember, if only slightly different due to the new musky cologne he’s probably sticking with nowadays. Not like you can focus on it too long because your airway is screaming to be freed again. 

Tears leak over your lashes as want slicks your cunt, and you hear syllables that could be words before you finally give his legs a telltale tap.

Oxygen floods your lungs as more tears stream from your eyes, lips sopping wet and saliva leaving your chin in strings. Gulping, you go right back to it, taking him in again and pumping his slick ridges quick.

“Get up,” he commands with a rasp so deep it rumbles your chest. “Get the fuck up.” 

You’re pulled upward so fast your legs cry at the bends, and you’re spun so quick the wall hits your shoulderblade and you cry out into a furious mouth. 

Pleasure and pain intertwine as you match his intensity, raking at his shoulders and clawing into his hair. With each kiss, he reaches deeper into your throat, and you know he can taste himself on your tongue with the way he claims it in waves.

For a moment, there’s no one else in the world. You aren’t in a dimly lit lounge in a club away from home. You’re right here in his bedroom, getting slung and dragged along his wall and knocking every one of his plaques and posters off-kilter. 

“Yoongi, I—”

“I know.”

Without further prompt, Yoongi wrenches at your dress to shove it up to your hip, burning a path along your leg with expert fingers. As you hook itover his smooth forearm, your lips part when his other hand slides between your thighs. 

You know your underwear is soaked all the way through. 

And now, so does he. “Goddamn.”

“I can’t take it anymore,” you gasp out. “Just—”

“Are you still on the—”

“Yes.”

Shifting the sodden material to the side, Yoongi wastes no time, angling himself to rub over your folds and moaning in tandem with you because holy fuck this already feels so—

“This fucking pussy,” Yoongi grits out, sliding in perfectly and so smoothly it’s like neither of you ever left each other's sides. Your high moan cuts into the cherry ceiling when he sounds like he’s just struck gold, “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Yoongi, please—”

He’s talking absolute nonsense. Gonna be? How is that possible when you won’t see him again? 

All questions vaporize when Yoongi’s hips snap up, launching you up the wall again, and again, and again. Pops of need and lust zoom straight to your head, sparkling out of your eyes when you feel his lips smothering your neck. 

You’re in heaven. You’re in hell. It feels so good it hurts. Caught in a flurry of need and anguish, your nails rake down his shoulders before scratching at his arms, shivering at his outright growl, 

“Don’t do that.”

“Oh, I—”

“Do that shit again and I’ll come.” 

Shit. You don’t understand how he could be so shameless. You’re trying your hardest to keep it together and here he is saying whatever the fuck he wants? If you let your mouth just as loose as he has there’s no telling what you’d be shouting out. 

But you settle for an apology for now, just in case you actually hurt him, “Sorry.. My nails are super long right now.”

“I noticed.” Another thrust launches you into the sky. “They look good but they hurt like hell.”

“Oh.. Sorry again.” A moan escapes when he shoves into you, mind hazy because he’s still placating you. 

“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.” Devilish, he breaks into a slow smirk you haven’t seen in ages, and your ribcage folds inward and inward. “I’m just not fucking done with you yet.” 

Oh. He doesn’t want this to end, either. 

Now that changes every fucking cog in your brain. 

You keep yourself upright as long as you can, arms slung around his neck as you both move together, dip and lean together, breathe so hard it scorches your chest together. Every muscle in your planted leg burns, but it’s nothing compared to the stare you have connected to his eyes. With each deep thrust, his brows furrow and his teeth peek from his lips, and every groan you hear goes right into a chest for safe keeping. Right next to all the other memories you want to lock away.

Yoongi’s pace starts to quicken the more your mewls encourage him. What was sensuous is now unbearable and, as your dress threatens to shift, you know your breasts will be on full display soon, and Yoongi bites his lip with a grunt with his next hard thrusts.

Soon enough, you feel a chill on your nipples as they’re freed, moaning to the ceiling when Yoongi immediately heats one whole with his tongue. “Baby!”

Goddamn it. You weren’t supposed to address him like that, too. But maybe it’s better than saying his name because every time you do there’s a charge sparking the air. 

So you decide to switch, moaning the same word over and over as he licks and sucks, dragging his teeth along your exposed chest and littering it with heavy proof of his lips. Just like the lipstick on his jersey, you know he’s claimed his own marks on your skin. 

And neither of you will be able to hide them when you part.

Expelled tension flits about in light streaks as you move with him, slick with exertion and tight with muscles working in double time. You both know this is the last time and you’re acting like it. And you send a prayer to the heavens to let time stop just to keep holding him in your arms. 

Suddenly, your heel slips, and you yelp before strong arms keep you upright. “Shit, sorry.”

“I got you.”

Summer sunsets smother your vision as you let him guide you from the wall, gently placing your leg down and leading you to a sofa. Everything simmers to a lull, and you have a moment to catch your breath and steady your racing, racing heartbeat. 

When Yoongi sits on vibrant cushions, you admire the way his biceps fill those sleeves right as he tugs his jersey clean off. And you have to fight to not teeter over, continuing to stare in awe at him, so perfectly filled in some placed and chiseled in others that you start to wonder how you even left in the first place.

Of course you know why you did. So why bring it up now when you’re right here? Why agonize over the past when you’re standing right between his legs?  

“Baby.” 

You flick your gaze back up to his. 

“Stay with me.”

Tears zing up your eyes as you nod, heart plugging your throat as you mount his toned thighs. When you feebly place hands on his searing shoulders, you hate the way your words shake on the way out, “Stay in the now. I know.”

Yoongi’s eyes shine with a light in them you weren’t sure was there before. But you can’t wait long enough for confirmation because your heart is keeling over with ache. 

He remembers. He remembers. Does that mean he’s thought about you, too? 

Focus on something else. No time to think about the past, nor the future. No time to notice that the way Yoongi looks at you now is so heartbreakingly similar to how he worshipped you before. Back when things were perfectly imperfect. Back when you were sure he loved you before he proved to you that he didn’t. 

“Still so beautiful.”

Liquid fire fills your eyes as your breath hitches, guiding his length to your entrance before sinking onto him with no issue. When you both groan, you let your glittery vision watch the ceiling instead of him when you admit, 

“You look so fucking good in red.”

There’s no response as you breathe, angling yourself to feel him deep and moving in a slow push and pull along his legs. Your thin chain tightens as your neck strains above Yoongi’s head, and you wish you had the guts to look down at the ones around his neck. They’re already deadly resting on his clothes, but rocking against the flush of his skin is how you love them the most.

Still, you can’t bear to look. You know you’ll lose yourself in those eyes if you dare stare long enough. Because what you saw earlier looked too close to longing, which would be impossible because that only exists in yours. 

“And,” you whoosh out in tired breaths, gripping your fingers on him a little tighter, “Looks like you.. finally hit the gym.. like I kept fucking saying.” 

A puff of warm laughter hits your chest before sweaty hands grip your waist. “Always said I would.”

“But you never did,” you huff out, grinding on him harder and melting at his little sounds. One thing you will keep giving this man credit for: he isn’t ashamed to be just as vocal as you are. The more people you ended up meeting? The rarer and rarer you realized that bedroom quality was. 

“I did eventually,” he grits, holding you in place and surging into you so hard you yelp to the stars. “Didn’t I.”

“Fuck you,” you bite, moaning when your argument dies the moment his tongue swirls around a nipple again. What’s left comes out a garbled mess of a groan, and you hate, hate, hate the dark chuckle against your breast. Partly because he’s a constant problem, and partly because you yearn to see his smile again. 

“What else is new about you,” Yoongi suddenly rasps, hands lowering to rest on your hips as you ride him. “Aside from clearly getting better at this.”

Lost in lust and surprised at his question, you finally peer down to see him looking up already. “No thanks to you.”

And your world stills as he doesn’t respond right away, any hint of sunlight fading from his features. “No thanks to me,” he slowly agrees. 

Fuck. You didn’t mean to do that. 

Slowly slipping hands from his body, you rise from his length and mourn the disconnect before standing. When Yoongi only regards you with eyes on fire, you slowly turn and rest on his thighs. 

He’s not gonna like this. But he asked.

You turn your head before slowly sliding one side of your dress completely down, revealing a rough scar on your back a little lower than your shoulder.

And your soul immediately clenches when Yoongi heats your back with his body heat. “The fuck?” His fingers feel so light, so protective as they caress your mark. It’s confusing, and you abhor it as much as you need it. “What happened?”

“I fell,” you whisper. “Pretty hard.” 

Details of how and when it happened don’t matter. But he wanted to know what was new, and the scar on your heart isn’t exactly readily available to show. 

“I did, too.” 

What? At his voice over your shoulder, you strain your neck to see him. “When?”

Why is he kissing your scar? Exes don’t do that. Exes don’t do anything you’re doing right now. 

“Before you left.”

Now you feel worse. When the hell did that happen? Why didn’t you know about it? “Sorry,” you breathe out with sorrow. “I didn’t know.”

Another slow, calm graze of his mouth tightens your throat. Because he’s since moved across your back, lips now touching where your shoulderblade hit the wall. 

“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “I never told you.” 

He never told you many things.

Stepping into dangerous territory is making you regret showing him your worst moment. So you shift your ass to push over his cock, feeling it throb against you when you wisp out the worst reminder, “We don’t have much time.”

“Mm.”

When you feel his hands shift your dress, you lift up and allow you both to effortlessly situate you back where you wanna be. Your back hits his chest as he guides himself up into your folds, and your head kicks back to lie across his shoulder like the red silk flowing over your thigh. 

“Just like you said,” you start to whisper, eyes already welling with oncoming regret, “One last time.” Every syllable just as melancholic as the notes of your favorite song. 

When Yoongi starts, your heart weeps at the pace. Because it reminds you of better times, sensuous and intentional and convincing you to confess all over again. It takes everything not to speak, your moans escaping in weak puffs and your hips swelling in a calm wave. 

This is too much. This is way too fucking much and you finally break when his name leaves you like a prayer. “Harder,” you beg. “Please, please go—”

You’re cut off as soon as his hips jolt up, flinging you to life before going at a menacing pace. Yes yes yes this is the one you need. The one you crave. The one that leaves no room for feelings and decisions. Your dress threatens to slip off your sides with each pound, slowly rolling and accentuating your chest in seconds. “Shit, holy shit!”

“Fuck, you’re so tight—”

“So fucking big—”

As if knowing exactly what you want, your arms are held back, locked into place as you’re under the absolute mercy of his dick slamming up into you over and over, skin slapping obscene and thighs burning from the stretch across his lap. 

Yoongi knows you better than anyone else. A frustrated growl tears from your lips as you arch so far back you connect clouds, and a strong forearm wraps across your stomach to pin you so fucking close you may as well mold right into him. Passion streaks down your limbs as sweat beads along your skin, the heady scent of sex and forbidden fruit swirling into your nose. 

More. More more more he’s giving you everything. As your arms are freed, you can only grip the other forearm slinging over your upper chest, nails digging into creamy skin and leaving angry, cherry red lines.

Words, praise, everything under the sun is being spewed onto your slick shoulders as you mash your teeth and eyes tight. You even hear a word you’ve been wanting to hear for years, but that can’t possibly be true because there’s no way Yoongi would ever—

A hand closes around your throat, and your eyes fly back into your head.

You’re so close. Fucking hell, your thighs are singing and your throat is burning and your abdomen strains from the arch but you need this release. You need this tidal wave to consume you. If only to forget for a split second that Yoongi isn’t—

“—yours.”

What?

Another fierce round of thrusts almost topples the two of you over, and white hot pressure paints the edges of your eyes as you strain for breath. You’re so close. So fucking close it’s right within reach.

But it all vanishes in a snap as Yoongi stops, and you cry with a teary rasp, “No, please, baby—”

“Not yet.” He hauls you up, making you sit straight and facing away yet again. “You know what to do.” 

Fuck. There’s no way he remembers this, too. You flinch at the slap to your breast before shakily getting up, legs wobbly but positioning yourself on his cock perfectly before sliding down. 

Both heels planted on the ground, you brace his strong knees and work his slick length, eyes rolling at his breathy groans and curses leaving his mouth in spurts. 

You know exactly what to do to make him lose his goddamn mind. So you do it all, swirling and swerving your hips while flicking off your silk, showing him the best view of your ass as it bounces. Your legs tire, but you don’t, and you use the music leaking into the room to set your sickening, aggravating pace. 

“Fuck, baby..”

“You asked for it.”

“Don’t regret a goddamn thing.” 

You can tell he’s on the brink of madness, and you can only picture the way his head thumps back on the couch, mouth torn by his teeth and brows furrowed to hell. His muscles are probably contracting in waves, including the ones in his perfect, bulging arms. 

“You shouldn’t,” you hum. “Since this is all you get.” 

Without a word, hands reach out and tug you backward, and you’re up on your feet and tripping before your hands slap the firm cushions of the next chair over. “What the fu—”

To your absolute delight, Yoongi plants a foot on the chair before gripping the pliant dip of your hips, pushing tears from your eyes with each quick, deep thrust he rams forward. Stars dance along your vision as drool leaks endlessly from your mouth. “Baby—! Fuck!”

“This pussy’s so.. Fuck.” You’re shoved so far down that your moist cheek smushes into firm cushion. “Say my name.”

“Babe—”

“As much as I wanna hear that every fucking day”—Yoongi shoves into you again and keeps his cock thrumming inside your cunt—“Right now, I’m gonna hear my name. So say it.”

“Yoongi—”

His deep, gritted command makes you snap, “Louder.”

“Yoongi—!” 

You feel it. You’re at the brink again. With every snap of his skin pounding against yours, you’re inching closer and closer and closer to the edge, waiting for the fall that will end you. “Baby, I’m gonna—”

Firm arms haul you upward and you’re both travelling the room again, legs skittering until you hit back first into the nearest wall fuck that took your breath out.

Yoongi’s breath catches as he slams a hand against the plaster to steady, face burrowed in your neck and hair brushing harsh against your ear as he buries inside of you again. Fire spews from his mouth as you feel his cock squeeze up into your cunt, and his arm tenses tight behind your knee as he commands,

“Come for me, love.”

You don’t know what the fuck you just heard but you know he didn’t just say—

“I said come.”

Instinct. Pure, animalistic instinct surges your orgasm forward in a high crest, breaking onto shore in hot, white waves as you tremble around him. Your cunt squeezes and tugs, your poor leg threatening collapse as Yoongi roughly hums so deep against your chest. Pleasure, starlight, the warmth of an afternoon faraway heats your body just right, and one crash leads into the next so effortlessly that tears zip down your cheeks.

Your name rips from Yoongi’s throat. 

And it’s enough to send you right over the edge again.

How the fuck is this possible how the hell can someone break you with your own name how can Yoongi have this much of a hold on you when it’s been literal years? It doesn’t make any sense and the cries into his neck as he holds you close are akin to sobs. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re your way of mourning everything that could’ve been. Everything that will never be. 

But at least you were able to have him, shaking in your grasp and pulsing in your core. One more night. One last time. 

“Fuck it, come here.” 

Your sobs are yanked from the wall again, and you don’t know up from left as you're thrown onto a sofa, back curling as Yoongi tugs your head upright. Your tears slide down your neck, wetting your necklace as he breathes out, 

“Again.” 

Fuck! Your cunt tightens around him as you gasp out, “I can’t… I can’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Yoongi growls, clutching your chin and flinging hot spit onto your face that catapults you into another level of need you’ve never been to holy fuck. Smothering it against your cheeks, he taps you once and it brings destruction. “I said again.” 

All your limbs lock at the bends as you throw your head in a strained cry, a release that overpowers all the others flushing through your veins and igniting beams out of your sweaty chest. Wave upon wave crashes into your soul and your ears ring so loud you can barely hear or see Yoongi watching from above. You can’t. You’re too caught in chaos. You can’t see the way he looks at you. 

“Come for me, Yoongi,” you suddenly plead, “Let go.”

“Let me pull—”

“Do it now,” you hitch out. “Come inside.”

A prolonged moan leaves his mouth as he launches into a pace that has you screaming, teeth gritted to hell and fingers gripping you so hard you know they’re going to bruise. But who cares when your skin will match your heart? Who gives a fuck about anything else anymore?

Beautiful weight crushes your chest as Yoongi’s body turns erratic, jolting and seizing up. And you know he’s racing to his own cliff to dive and you’re gonna be right there to catch him. Slinging your arms around his drenched back and fisting the wet base of his hair, you’re already ready and waiting with harsh harsh breaths, because you're about to break him.

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to his ear, ravaging his slick neck with your lips and scraping teeth over his ear just how he likes, hearts beating as one when you stop just to connect your forehead to his. With a singular, throaty gasp, you plead,

“One last time.”

Yoongi’s sudden release sends a pulse through the air, and your core beats and beats with each pump of essence he spews inside. Heaven and earth collide with stars as you hold tight, and your thighs shake as he finishes filling you with the longest orgasm you have ever, ever seen him endure. 

The float down doesn’t come quick, both of you softly suspended in time and air. Steam radiates from your skin and flows from your mouths with each breath, and beads of sweat slip down his jewelry as he stares with a deep vastness in his eyes. 

Why is he so quiet? 

Why are you so quiet? 

Why do you feel like crying again? 

With one more shaken breath, Yoongi swallows, chest heaving right after as he struggles to gather himself. His shoulders are so broad when he moves under your hands, closing his eyes as soon as your brows touch,

“I know it’s over.”

Your heart flares.

“But I need you to know.”

Stars light the night sky.

“I love you. And I always will.”

A sob breaks your silence, hand flying to cup your mouth before you hunch forward into his trembling chest. Days and days of pent up anger and sadness spill out all at once, and you weep into his chest because you can’t bear to let go. 

“I know you’ve moved on,” Yoongi continues with a shake to his words, not pausing at the way you choke and weep. “But I’ve regretted never saying it back then. And I’m not gonna get another chance.”

What the fuck is happening. What does he mean? What does he mean? Your body can’t stop as it locks and locks, sobs wracking your chest because this is fucked up and confusing and everything you’ve been wanting for the longest time. This is all you wanted. And you only get it at the very end. 

“I didn’t even say goodbye,” you shake out. When you lift your trembling head, his lips are already so achingly close to yours and his hand moves to steady your neck. “I left and never came back.”

When his eyes are the only ones that speak, you start to spill everything out, words tumbling into one another and pinging to the floors around your tired feet,

“I tried so hard to forget you. Tried so, so hard to stop loving you. Every day, I’d wake up wanting nothing to do with you, only to see you in my dreams and remember how it felt to—to—” 

Bright red flares across Yoongi’s eyes as he keeps listening, jaw pulsing and brows so tense. 

“At first, I was so angry. At you, at myself, at the world for letting me love you when you never loved me back. But now, I know what I did was wrong. And I regret it every day that I live.” 

When your face contorts in sorrow, Yoongi brings a hand up to wipe your cheek, thumb brushing away your tears. “I did, babe.” Your breath stops and your eyes splay wide. “Just never had the guts to say it first.” 

First. 

Yoongi loved you all the way back then? Before that starry night that’s kept your heart captive for so long? It pulses against your chest, ramming and ramming into your ribcage to get to his. 

Only one question barrels through your mind. “…Why?”

Yoongi looks from one eye to the next. “Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”

Everything clicks into place and you suddenly feel so, so upset. You are going to fight this man to the moon and back. Or, better yet, you’re gonna fight him to the moon and leave him there. “You think I thought that way?”

“No.” He sighs, chains shaking over your chest. “And I replay that night over, and over. Knowing that I’d do anything to go back and tell you how I felt.” 

Yoongi never lived in the past. He was always adamant about staying in the present. So knowing he’d been stuck there right next to you makes your chest collapse before slipping down into the deep sea. 

“When I saw you today? Every day I told myself I’d get over you didn’t matter. Every reason I told myself I couldn’t be with you was bullshit.” 

Your throat constricts again.

“But when you kept running.. I knew you were done with me for good.” Yoongi’s hand falls. “And there was nothing I could do to change your mind.”

“Yoongi…”

All this time, you both had your own reasons for avoiding each other. Everything you fed into your logical side was just a ploy to project your feelings, and it turns out Yoongi did the exact same thing. 

He said he wouldn’t be able to hold back if you did this tonight. And now, you’re blessed to know exactly what he meant. 

So you also let everything go. 

“I was never done with you,” you choke out, seeing a swath of emotion brush across his face. “Because I’m still in love with you, and I will be even if you walk out of here without me.”

Musk and heaven consumes you in a hug, and you cry into a bare shoulder as you hear Yoongi vow something so full of longing and conviction you hold him tighter, 

“I’m not going anywhere else without you.” 

Music continues to pulse outside, lasers continue to dance around the room. But you see nothing but the light in your lover's eyes. 

And it’s a beautiful, beautiful sunrise. 

—

—

When you both finally part, it’s only to let him get dressed and for you to use the nearest restroom. In the quiet wake of your emotional storm, Yoongi walks you to the window spanning the far wall of the lounge, and you both watch the club floors move and sway from above. And it’s only now that you feel shy. It’s only now that you feel nervous seeing everyone below. 

But a thought occurs to you that dashes all others away, 

“How did you know to come up here?” 

Yoongi gives you a look that you raise a brow at. “I…” He sighs. “Let’s just say I know my way around this place.”

Ah. Of course. “Come here often?”

“Not for the reasons you think.”

Your brows are fully bent now. “…Huh?”

“I own the building.” Hands busy, he adjusts his jersey as if he didn’t drop the biggest shock of the century on your toes. “And a couple others in the city.”

What. 

Pause pause pause hold the fucking phone. 

Yoongi lives in this city? He owns what? This is a little too much to take in, but you have time. And you’re gonna hound him for every single detail of his life that you’ve missed. 

You have time. Your prayer had been answered tenfold. And you send endless gratitude to the sky. 

But suddenly, a second realization pierces your mind and you lightly shove him. When Yoongi looks at you in shock, you yell out, “You asked what’s new and I showed you a scar! Now you tell me you own a fucking building?” 

Your lover laughs, and the sun rises even higher over your horizon. Ducking your next swipe, he’s already back to irritating you again as he clarifies, “I said more than one—”

“Oh, fuck you!” 

He rushes forward and gathers you in his arms, not caring if anyone sees your embrace in the window. “You wanna go again?” 

Your face heats as your eyes roll heavenward, exactly where you feel like you are in this moment. “I have a pretty big hotel room,” you divulge. “And no one to share that bedroom with unless someone else catches my eye tonight, so…”

Yoongi’s eyes crease as he kisses your forehead. “Fuck that. Take me home.” 

Your giggles into his chin bubble out in pink, poppable spheres. 

As magnificent and dreamlike all of this has been, you're starting to find logic again. Because more than one question badgers into your mind.

How long have you been gone? Have your friends not even checked on you? Did they try? Did they leave do they even still have the... table…

Wait.

Everything else clicks into place. 

The random city everyone flew to that Jeongguk picked. The infamous club and dress code you heard about from Taehyung. The table that Hoseok bragged about getting…

“...You're the one that got us VIP.” 

That stupid, annoying, ridiculous grin. Of course this is how you'd be reminded of how much you love to hate it.

“Now come dance with me,” he says with teeth still flashing wide. “Let’s see if you ever got that step.” 

Eyes sparkling, you let him lead you down and onto the dance floor, moving through until you’re suddenly next to your friends that shout and holler at your arrival together. 

“All of you are crazy!” You yell out, tears in your smile as they burst into laughter. “Why didn’t you just tell me!”

Yoongi grabs hold of you before chuckling into your ear. “I told them not to.” 

“Why?”

“Didn’t know if you were really done.” He grips you tight, face falling into seriousness. “But I heard you broke up with someone a month ago. This was my only chance and I took it.” 

Holy fucking shit.

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek with purpose. “I love you.”

Yoongi’s cheeks rise high, dimples prominent and eyes carrying the light of the universe. Lips close, he responds how he wanted to the first time.

And you seal your devotion with a kiss full of starlight. 

“Ugh, here we go.”

“Already at it again, huh.”

"Figures. Didn't you see his jersey?"

“Get another room—!”

Suddenly, the same song that used to haunt you comes on once more, but this time, you welcome it with a swell of freedom in your chest. The waves of your mind calm, washing onto an empty beach and fading into a mesmerizing valley of blue.

Yoongi grins as he holds your hand, and you can't help but stretch your mouth wide as you both immerse into the crowd, moving and spinning and stepping perfectly together on every beat. Laughter and joy fills the space between your hearts as you all cheer, sharing this infinite moment together as fate intended.  

In a beautiful, unforgettable dance. 

-

-

fin :)

-

hi lovelies what did we think !! | main masterlist

a/n: so don't ask how i managed to write all of this in a single day (now two) lol i think this madrid yoongi broke me. anyways, here's the sidequest that became the main quest for a bit! i'm back to writing three tangerines so 3tan13 will be finished here real soon :D thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoyed this irresistible ex turned lover yoongiiiii :DD did i cry? yes. can you prove it? no!!!!

a/n 2: as always, reblogs and comments and asks are always super appreciated! i love sharing things with you guys and a big part of that is getting to hear what you all liked and what you're excited about. happy to chat, and thank you for reading!

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here!

explicit warnings: manhandling, public sex, rough sex, hair/head pulling, oral (m rec), choking, cowgirl, spitting, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, breast play, fucking an ex.... lol, multiple orgasms, the chains stay on, hella backshots, emotional sex, creampie OOP, club sex, reader is bad, yoongi loses his gd mind, couch sex, wall sex, chair sex, umm yeah alexa play like animals thanks

-

-

“What’s taking you so long!” 

Groaning, you concentrate on getting your lashes just right. “Told you it’d be just a minute!” 

“I know.” Hoseok pops into your hotel bathroom, deep neckline and even deeper scent of cologne almost making you jab yourself right in the socket. “But it’s been ten.” 

It’ll end up being a lot longer than that if he keeps cocking that perfect brow. Shouldn’t he know the rule of getting ready already? 

Done with your current task, you blink and inspect yourself in the wide mirror spanning the master bath. “Yeah, a minute means twenty. So I have ten to spare, right?” 

Bright teeth shine as he shakes his head. And you know it’s because you’re both slated to be super early anyway. 

Everything’s going according to schedule. All your old friends flew in yesterday, and the plan for today is to head to dinner to watch the night game with everyone. After that, you’ll walk straight to the club a few blocks down that you’ve heard to be the best in town. 

Well. Best in town for absolute eye candy. Taehyung warned that everyone that’s been to Lo Prohibito knows the dress code is simple but effective: luxurious. Unless your face card is so lethal you get in on that alone, or you happen to have celebrity status. 

And your confidence can only take you so far. You look fucking good, but you aren’t risking being turned away just because you were lax getting ready. 

So ten more minutes it is. Hobi will just have to deal with it. 

Goddamn, he could get in without a single issue, though. Honestly, he could be wearing a linen shirt and shorts with sandals and they’d mistake him for a millionaire. “I’ll be ready before you know it,” you say over your bare, perfumed shoulder. “You’ll be able to see your lover soon enough.” 

Hoseok shoots you a grin before huffing out, “Got me, huh.” 

“You’re the easiest person in the world to read.” Leaning over your makeup bag, you rummage through your brushes. “Whatever you’re thinking is always written all over your face." 

Quick laughter coats the bathroom in more light. “I can’t help it, okay! It’s always been that way.” When you focus in the mirror and pat your face, he suddenly drops two pitches in tone. “Sorry about yours.” 

Here you go again. You know exactly what he’s talking about. 

“Hobi,” you sigh. “I don’t care anymore, okay? It’s been a month.” 

“I know, but…” Expelling a heavy, sympathetic breath of his own, he leans against the double door entryway. That dulcet yet gravelly tone of his rolls across marble floors as he says exactly what you don’t want him to, “You seemed pretty happy with them.” 

You were. In fact, you were more than happy. 

But something just didn’t feel right. Sure, the days you spent with your most recent fling were perfect. You felt comfortable with them, you admired how thoughtful they were and how attentive. 

It was the nights that made you more than hesitant. 

Because no matter how many times you slept together, you never felt truly understood. What you wanted, what you needed? They would get so close to getting it right, only to never reach that level of intensity and passion you were looking for. 

So you broke it off one quiet, cherry-red sunset on the beach weeks ago. 

Only to find out that they were seeing someone else the whole time anyway. 

Fuck love. To hell with happiness. Why do all your relationships end up this way? Why do you always attract the people that seem perfect on the surface but hide so many flaws underneath? It’s starting to fucking annoy you and you may damn well swear to the single life forever. 

Though. There was one relationship that didn’t exactly end this way. 

But you’re never thinking about that one again, so no point in shuffling through those beautiful, tragic, regretful memories now. 

“And now I’m happy without them,” you finally respond to Hoseok, who tears his gaze from the white floors to see you staring in the mirror. “Probably happy without anyone else, actually.” 

What a fucking lie. 

“I mean, there’s time to find someone you...” Your friend pockets a hand while adjusting his loose top, shadows naturally accenting his abdomen. “Never mind. See you out there. Love the red.” 

You swish the silken floor-length material of your gaudy, quite revealing dress. “Thank you. This is my favorite part, look.” 

Hoseok watches as you stomp your leg out of the thigh-high slit so comically it catches him off guard, cackling before a lighthearted, “Careful with that!” 

“Says the man who’s practically naked.” 

All you get is a shameless shrug before your friend spins on this heel to leave, no doubt checking the texts on his phone. 

At least he's excited about seeing his gorgeous pull after so long. And you do not blame him one bit. The way he looks at her? She may as well be a goddess because his gaze turns almost reverent every time. 

A blurry memory consumes your mind like a haze, and you see completely different eyes with just as much fervor. They watch as you mount slow, chests slick with sweat and breathing deep from hours of—

Manicured hands grip the sink as your brush skitters onto granite counters. 

Fuck. Never again. 

Never, ever, ever again.

Pull yourself together. You’re a whole different person with a whole different future. That version of you is one you left far behind, as well as the life that came with it. 

You extend ten minutes into fifteen. 

And Hoseok’s outright whistle at your emergence lets you know the extra time was worth it. 

—

—

Dinner is loud and vibrant, with the whole restaurant locked in on the game and erupting in cheers when the home team scores. Or at least, the team that the majority of fans want to win scores. 

You aren’t completely sure, because there are jerseys of every country everywhere you look. It’s the one time you feel a sense of togetherness, with everyone giving each other friendly jabs and your group doing and saying anything to rile each other up. 

Hoseok is downright lethal with his date, the two of them showing off jawlines that can kill as they watch the nearest screen. But they’re on the other end of the long wooden table, so you have to find other people to converse with. 

Unfortunately, you find that the person sitting in front of you is a stranger, seemingly knowing someone else in the group and just happened to tag along. He quickly offered small talk when you all started ordering, which you already found a little awkward because you were trying to focus on what to get. 

Now, he keeps giving you more and more information about his achievements and endeavors, not once asking for your name. Figures.

Both the friends you’re sitting next to are no help, either. 

To your left, Jeongguk’s checking his phone for the fiftieth time this hour, scrolling through videos to avoid having to speak to anyone. 

And to your right, Taehyung cheers and stands when another goal is scored, locking elbows with the stranger behind him and drinking from his glass mug. Apparently he had been making fast friends while you were entertaining the guy that keeps staring at you. How cool. Happy for him. Can you both switch seats? 

Your wish doesn’t get granted for another hour. So that means you’re still talking to and giving polite encouragement to this gentleman. Though the term gentleman is very, very generous. It became more than obvious he just wants to fuck from the way he's been shamelessly ogling your plunging neckline. 

Mercifully, Jeongguk finally saves you, leaning in and pretending to show you a reel or tiktok or whatever the fuck he’s scrolling through. Instead, a text he typed into your message thread is all you see. 

Wanna go outside?

Going along and laughing at his fake share, you give him a grateful smile and nod. Turning to the man watching you with curiosity—and is that really jealousy?—you excuse yourself, 

“We’re gonna check out the second floor! Be right back.” 

Not even waiting to see nor hear his reaction.  

—

—

Outside the restaurant and not on the second floor, you can finally breathe again, watching the city come alive with its vehicle rush and streetlight hum. 

Next to you, your tattooed savior takes a long hit of his vape, and you run a hand across the thin gold chain around your neck. 

Without your permission, another memory slips through your defenses. And this one proves sharper, astonishingly clearer than the first.

Hands grab a string of gold from a nightstand, and you instantly ache because you remember what comes right after. As soon as it’s clipped onto a slim neck, you watch the necklace lower, and lower, right before you angle your mouth up to take it between your—

“Fuck.” 

Jeongguk whips his head right as your eyes snap open. “You okay? What’s wrong?” 

No. There are a thousand things wrong. You didn’t even fucking realize your vision went dark until light flooded out your unwanted nostalgia. 

Fuck, you hadn’t thought of that summer afternoon in years. Your reaction was visceral enough to spurn an oncoming headache. “Nothing,” you whoosh out. “What time is it?” 

“Almost time to head over to Lo Prohibido.” Gripping his phone, the man asks with concern, “You sure you’re good to go?” 

Head pulsing, you nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, just dehydrated. Can you pick a city that won't try to burn me out next time? I'm down for traveling but it's been hell here.” 

Unconvinced and unfazed, Jeongguk cocks his head to the door. “Let’s go back in. I know your favorite person is waiting, but you gotta drink water.” 

“Don’t,” you groan. “He’s cute, but I got the biggest ick like halfway in.” 

Your amused friend giggles as he holds the door open, “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would.” 

Laughing when more cheers erupt from inside, you give his jacketed arm a playful shove as you look down the street. “I’m nice, okay? Don’t—”

Your heart. 

It booms. 

In an instant, the whole world blurs, lights and bodies making solid, serpentine lines and even sound itself rolling to a deep, dull hum.

The only one you can see. The only person you can make out with perfect clarity. 

Is the one you’ve been trying your fucking hardest to not remember. 

Staring right at you with eyes you’ll never, ever forget. 

Yoongi. 

He’s just down the way, standing amongst a group with a striped jersey, dark hair swept so perfectly your chest pangs. Even though everyone around him is animated and laughing, the look on his face makes it undeniable he’s not focused on anything else.

And with a stopped heart, neither are you.

Until your lower back is held, tugging you out of the dream as Jeongguk’s question is laden with worry, 

“Seriously, what’s going on? Do you need to go back to the hotel?” 

You jolt away from his touch, but the action isn’t warranted. For fuck’s sake, he’s a friend you’ve known just as long as you've known the spectre down the street. Why did you feel the need to escape his worrisome hand? He isn't like the guy you just met.  

If that dude had been the one to touch you, though, you would’ve fucking decked him. You are not letting him feel an inch of your skin, and that includes the majority of it you’re baring at the back. 

“No, I’m—I’m fine,” you manage to get out. “Just thought I saw.. Never mind. Water.” 

Yoongi would’ve damn near murdered that creep, too. 

Shit. 

Right before stepping back in, you turn to peer back down the sidewalk, brain concluding that what you saw was your imagination and your heart adamantly disagreeing. 

However, there’s no sign of Yoongi anywhere. That same group of people continues to chitter away outside, but he’s nowhere to be seen. 

So your logic is sound. It was just a dream. There’s no way he’d be here, and he looked way too fucking handsome to be real anyway. Maybe your mind is just playing tricks on you as an act of revenge for making it remember him this much today. 

Because you’re remembering everything. The way he knew exactly how to get under your skin. The times he proved so patient. The way he absolutely knew how to act under your sheets. 

And his. And elsewhere. Anywhere the two of you decided to make love. 

And that singular word is exactly why your flame burned its brightest before choking out. 

You were ready. 

He wasn’t. 

And you regret your decision to leave more than anything else in your entire life. 

Because you could’ve fought harder. You could’ve given him more time. But when you confessed under a blanket of stars and didn’t hear those three words reciprocated, every single celestial plummeted from the sky, plunging you headfirst into a deep, dark ocean of insecurity and bubbling self-loathing. 

The night you left, you left everything. You left your room, your apartment, the city you called home your entire life. Like a coward that couldn’t face rejection. 

Because you didn’t even tell Yoongi goodbye. 

And that’s the last damning reminder you hurl at yourself before rejoining your friends inside. 

—

—

You readily down two glasses of water. 

Inwardly laughing at the fact that the same dude straight up left to “meet up with his brochachos.” 

—

—

Lo Prohibito is decibels louder than the restaurant, and that includes the moments everyone cheered to the max.

A dazzling laser show beams from behind the raised DJ booth, and machines shoot out air to provide much needed circulation and boost the spread of confetti. 

To your delight, everyone here is just as pretty as you imagined. You’re thanking all your lucky clovers that you were accepted inside, strutting in on your heels with chin held high. 

Maybe not as high as it could go. 

But you refuse to let anything else bring you down tonight. You’re supposed to be having another great outing, spending it with your friends and enjoying the nightlife while you’re still able. 

Bright colors span across every surface as a thumping bass shakes your toes, and you wait for the rest of your group to trickle in to find a good dancing spot—and a much needed drink because you are desperate for one. 

At this point, you’ll pay any price to forget whatever the fuck you saw earlier. 

Be it a figment of your imagination, or a devilishly attractive ghost, you just need to wipe that achingly handsome face from your mind. 

There’s no way he’s here. And even if who you saw was real? It wasn’t the man you loved. 

Because there’s no way Yoongi would even look your way again. 

Not like you want him to anyway. Forget him. He gave you everything except the one thing you ultimately wanted, and you couldn’t live in his moonlight without your stars slowly burning out.

Breathe. Focus on the present. Stay in the now. 

“Come on,” he instructs, holding your fingers before grabbing your waist. “Stay with me.” 

“Sorry,” you whisper to your stumbling feet. “I just keep messing up that damn step and it’s annoying.” 

“I know.” He grips your hand, turning so that you land against his chest, comforting tone soothing your burning ear, “But you got a lot more chances to get it. We got time. Stay in the now.” 

“Okay.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

“Come on!” 

Your past whisks away with the club fog, and you follow Hoseok and the rest off the crowded floor. “Where are we going!” 

Hand on the nearest winding staircase, he turns with a smile. “Got us VIP! We’re up here.” 

“No fucking way?” How the hell did Hobi manage to do that? Wasn’t this place booked up the last time you both checked yesterday? “How!” 

Cheekily, the man simply plucks at his undone overshirt and wiggles, smirking as his date doubles over in a laugh. 

“Oh, you’re a freak,” you call out behind him with praise. “Thank you for your service.” 

Thank Jung Hoseok and those abs indeed because the VIP booth is a godsend. Sure, it’s still crowded on the second floor, but at least you don’t have to worry about standing shoulder to shoulder the whole night. You have somewhere to retreat to when you need a breather. 

Which Jeongguk is already taking the most advantage of, settling into the middle of the booth and planting elbows on the long table stretching end to end. Music blares while people shout all throughout the club, but he seems quite zeroed in on his phone. 

Maybe you can both use each other as a scapegoat again if you need to leave. He’s been enjoying himself for the most part, but you can tell he’s extremely ready to go home and the night just started. If you weren’t desperate to let loose and forget years of your life tonight, you would’ve offered to get shitty fast food with him and walk around the city instead. 

Mm. That still sounds like a backup option. 

“Who wants drinks!” Taehyung calls out from the far end of the booth, standing to wave someone down and glancing at everyone giving him their orders all at once. “Let’s just get bottles!” 

Perfect. He knows exactly what to do, so you let him drive and settle into the booth to wait for the liquid ailment to your problems. 

This club has it all, you muse as you take everything in. From endless bottles and extravagant cocktails sailing over the crowd, to sparkler shows and pops of streamers raining down from above, it’s a paradise of a getaway. 

But the outfits? To your surprise, you feel slightly out of place, even arguably overdressed wearing the most expensive thing you own. Yes, there are loads of tens walking around, even some elevens and twelves if you’re honest. But you do see quite a few people in outfits as casual as Jeongguk’s leather.

Either way, almost everyone is dripped in the most lavish jewelry and clothing, from designer to exclusive to wait someone got in wearing a jersey? 

How the hell? Despite the outfits you saw there hasn’t been anyone in here with a jersey, is he famous? It's the same one you saw on the sidewalk when you—

Fuck. That’s not him, is it? You can’t quite see his face, but that back is so… 

No. No no no. You’re staying here for awhile so that better have been another mind trick or you're taking that backup plan with Jeongguk immediately—

“Here,” Taehyung catches your attention while hastily holding out a glass. “This is what you wanted, right?” 

You take it with shaky fingers. “Yes, it’s perfect, thank you.” 

When you turn back, the red and white stripes are gone. 

And you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

“You okay?”

Turning, you notice that Tae’s eyes are extremely focused on yours. You nod as you down your shot in one go. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His honey rasp slows on the way out, “You sure..?”

“Yeah.” When you push more of the stinging, sweet alcohol down, you decide to start telling him what you saw. “I just… I thought I saw…”

Taehyung is one of the only ones that never questioned why you left town. Which you’re grateful for, because you couldn’t handle all your other friends sending you text after text after call. It was fucking overwhelming, but you had one person that just allowed you to make decisions and live with them. 

“Saw who?” He asks, cutting through your vision with long fingers in a wave and calling you back to reality. 

“No one.” You don’t even wanna say his name. It carries the weight of the world. “Forget it! I’ll be good as soon as we start.”

Unconvinced but letting you have space, Tae doesn’t pry. 

“If you say so.”  

—

—

For the next hour, everything is great. You play stupid drinking games with your friends, cheer for the most random shit the house emcee yells, and you start to slowly wash the unwanted memories from your mind. 

At one point, Jeongguk stuns the section by dancing on booth cushions and swinging his jacket, revealing he only had a thin tank underneath. Many people stare slackjawed at his physique and understated choice of outfit, but you can only cackle with your friends because you all know he’s gonna go right back to his phone in seconds. He just really, really likes the song playing. 

And you’re enjoying the DJ set, too. As long as they don’t play specific songs, you can enjoy the rest of the night in absolute peace. 

Especially the one song that haunts your every waking moment. The first time you heard it, in a club somewhere along pink lemonade sand, you trudged knee deep into the crashing tide and didn’t leave until the sun dipped under the horizon. 

Because it hit too close to home. And your deluge of tears gave back infinite saltwater to the sea. 

Relax. Don’t throw any possibilities into the atmosphere, especially when your mind is fucked up tonight. Your friends are heading down to the dance floor, so go with them and forget everyone else. 

Making sure your drink is finished, you feel ice hit your lips before clinking it down, rushing to join your group at the top of the staircase. 

Only to stutter so close to the edge your heart leaps out of your chest.

It keeps falling, and falling. Because there’s no mistaking this time. That man you saw wearing the outfit that’s starting to haunt you? He’s talking animatedly to someone across the second floor, dusty pink elbow perched on the railing with a drink in his still so veiny hand. 

And your mouth turns sour at the way his shoulder is tapped by pretty nails, tongue hot and darkly spiced when Yoongi just laughs into his cup.

God. He’s here. He’s devastating without even trying.

And, as your blasphemous logic reminds you, that beautiful smile will never be yours anymore.

But that doesn’t stop you from staring. Because while on the street, you could’ve argued he was a hallucination birthed from dehydration. Right here, in this moment, you’ve sobered up in a snap and you know for a fact what you’re seeing is real.

Maybe it was better when you assumed he wasn’t. 

At least then, you didn’t have to entertain any worse outcomes than just seeing him. You didn’t have to think about how you’d feel seeing him so close to someone else.

Looks like the universe is giving you the final consequences of your escape. Yoongi has your fate in the warm, rough palm of his hand, and you know he’ll do nothing but let it fall to the rumbling floor below. Just to watch with unblinking eyes.

“Hey, you gonna go down or what?”

Turning, you start to move to the side, embarrassment heating the skin of your back that was just lightly grazed, “Shit, sorry—”

A strong arm pushes you sideways into hard metal as a duo of guys head down the stairs. You figure it’s an accident, but that doesn’t stop your face from contorting in pain and a curse to fling from your mouth. Because damn that fucking hurt. 

“Dude, watch it!” The one behind looks back at you to apologize, “Sorry about my—”

Oh… Really… 

The guy from dinner halts in his apology, and your brow lifts right before he waves you off. 

Waves you off. 

At least your intuition is always spot on. Good riddance, you were completely valid to ditch his brochacho ass earlier. 

Rolling your eyes skyward and even aiming a petulant tongue at his retreating back, you scoff before leaning on chilled metal, letting a moment pass before heading down to Taehyung and the rest of them. 

Where are they anyway? If you don’t spot them from here it’s gonna be hard to find them on the.. ground.. 

Your heart looks up before you do.  

And you catch your ex watching intently from across the way, phone sliding from his ear before he straightens to start walking. 

…Towards you? 

Fuck. 

It’s been bad enough catching glimpses of Yoongi and seeing him entertain someone else. If he gets one foot right in front of you? Everything you’ve worked so hard to build up against him and the haunting memories of your relationship will collapse into dust. You can’t bear him seeing how you haven’t changed your fucking mind. 

To your utmost pain, all roads have always led back to him. No matter how deep you relate to or click with someone, no matter how happy another person makes you, no one has come close to how Yoongi made you feel. 

Because he’s the only one that understood even the darkest parts of you. And he’s the only light in your life you ran away from. 

There’s a reason you watch every sunset. There’s a reason you stand on the beach back home and don’t move your sandswept legs until the last rays give way to the ocean line. 

It’s because of the guilt. The guilt of turning away from the warmth you held in your hands and the warmth you left behind. 

Your eyes stay tethered as your ex makes his way down the long side of the upstairs balcony, partiers smushing together and bottles roving over his head as ladies take them to VIP tables. 

Based on the heat in his eyes? Yoongi’s on the universe’s side. There’s no way he’s seeking anything else other than revenge. 

Shit, shit shit. This isn’t good for you. Literally nothing great nor healthy can come out of this if he ends up in your orbit. One word, two words, and even worse, three words from those unforgettable lips would destroy you and never let you recover. 

But your hands stay tight on the warming railing. And they won’t fucking let go. 

Downstairs. Go down the stairs. Go. 

Yoongi’s almost here. All he has to do is round the corner. He's close enough for you to notice the silver chains adorning his neck.

And the last thing you think with a withering heart is how devastatingly handsome he’s become. 

With a tight breath, you pelt high heels downward one hasty step at a time. Winding, winding, spiraling like the thoughts storming your mind. The further down you go, the farther away he is. 

Your heel catches on your dress before you stumble, but you don’t look back to see if Yoongi’s even still behind you. 

Chill the fuck out and don’t fucking trip. You already had nasty falls before with scars to prove it and a sticky club floor is the worst place to sprawl onto. 

Keep going. Disappear into the crowd. Go find your friends. 

And deal with the unmoving, gaping hole in your chest later. 

—

—

It takes you awhile to find them, but soon enough, you're back to having the time of your life. The lineup of DJs is all stellar, with only a few misses here and there, even getting Jeongguk to stay on the dance floor longer than you expect.

What's even better? There's no sign of Yoongi. Surrounded by sweaty bodies and flashy grins, you don't catch a single glimpse of him in the crowd.

Good. That's good, right? You wanted this. You wanted to avoid him and run, just like you did the last time.

Your group starts to split up in the commotion of lights and confetti and streamers, but you're fine dancing on your own. With each ebb and flow of music, you lose yourself, letting your heart get swept away by stories of love and loss. Every song holds a piece you understand. Every verse carries the same message.

You aren't alone in being alone.

So embrace it. Let the hurt come later. Smiling wide, you await the next song up, arms thrown in the air with everyone in beautiful togetherness around you.

Then it starts.

The one song you knew you'd hear at some point but sure as fuck didn’t want to.

While people around roar at the familiar opening, you feel like disappearing entirely. Where’s the nearest coastline? You need a rising tide. 

As the melancholic notes buzz up your chest, you slowly, quietly, lower both arms to your sides. Around you, the floor moves in sensuous circles and dips, and you envy everyone for not feeling how you feel. This glowing, searing pain setting your chest ablaze until it’s nothing but a pile of cinders, only to be washed away with the waves crashing against your knees.

With each scathing line, your heart cries, remembering exactly why it hit too deep. All those lessons you took that started on a whim. All those sunny afternoons practicing and stumbling about your living room. All those times you were held close and knew there’d be no one else.

Your heart isn't strong enough to stay in the now. It doesn’t want to. It will always remain in the past, on a rooftop gazing into a sea of stars and hoping for a different outcome. 

Night, after night, after night. 

Suddenly, you’re back in the past, too.

Because a hand, so sure and so steady, settles onto your hip from behind, and your eyes burn when another slides along your bare shoulder. Heat from a body you can sense from anywhere in the fucking universe warms the skin at your back, and you shake as lips touch the shell of your ear to whisper three words that shatter what’s left of your soul, 

“One last time.” 

You aren't in the past. You're here. And so is he.

Breath whooshing out in a hitch, your throat is in absolute flames as your eyes slide shut. Then you nod, because you can’t think of doing anything else, and you allow him to lead.

And he feels so perfect against you it hurts. 

You feel how strong he’s gotten, how sturdy and lean. And yet, you also feel the same soft give you used to feel all those years ago. You know how pliant he could become under your mercy, just like all those times he gave you complete control. If you faced him, you could run your hands along that stomach you’ve kissed every inch of a thousand times over. 

But you’re too much of a pathetic coward to turn around. 

When you back into him, his quick hiss into that groan you miss so fucking much flips every warning light in your body. But you can’t help it. You know this dance, this connection, this reunion will be the last you will ever have. 

He never loved you. You never said goodbye. 

Everything that’s left unsaid swirls around you as you move in perfect sync, both your hips moving as one and your hand snaking up and back to grip his neck fuck he feels just like home. 

Yoongi… Still feels like home. 

A single, hot tear leaks from your eye as you sway, burning a path down your cheek as your other hand closes tight around fingers holding your side. When he grips you even tighter, another tear betrays you, and you feel his lips so close to your neck you expect him to kiss there if he wanted to. 

But he doesn’t. 

Of course he doesn’t. 

So you take what you’re given. A dance. Just one. One last unforgettable dance before your life changes all over again. 

Knowing this song by heart, you know it’s approaching the end. The bittersweet last chorus clues you in, and you tense around his neck just a little tighter, hoping Yoongi didn’t catch the need in your fingers for this moment to never end. 

Mother Earth can swallow you whole as soon as the last word is sung. You give her your express permission. 

Because you feel so hopelessly in love all over again, and you can’t bear your affection to be unreciprocated a second time. 

Just like that. Against your deepest, sincerest wishes. 

The song dies. 

And immediately after, as if your world hasn’t just been upheaved and tossed to the wayside, the next number booms. Everyone on the dance floor cheers again when it’s extremely familiar and a faster tempo. Even more people fill the floor because they need to feel this one in their bones. 

And you need nothing else but to leave. 

Get out. Go. Yoongi said so, right? One last time. It’s over. This tension between you needed an outlet and that song was the one out you both could use to set it free. 

And it’s done. So you start your brisk walk away.

Only for your wrist to be held and your heart to fall out of your ribcage. 

Fuck.

When you turn, you forget you’re tear-streaked and full of painful regrets. 

And the look on Yoongi’s face heats your soul all the way through. 

Because his eyes are unwavering, brows cut deep and mouth completely shut. Over his forehead, tendrils of mussed bangs sweep slow, and his chest rises and falls with every hard, wordless breath he takes. 

And you finally get the courage to whisper his name. 

Without a word, he slowly pulls you in, not stopping until your hands softly push into his strong chest and your face is inches from his. All heavy bass and bright beats of music fall away. All lights shift until you can only see him. 

Time. All that time apart vanishes when you finally feel this close again, his steady expression watching you with an emotion you can’t place but feel ripping at your walls to destroy them. 

What is happening? What’s he doing? 

Does he know he has the power to hurt you in ten million different ways?

Fingers rise to wipe the sadness from your face, only inviting more to pour from your eyes. “Yoongi,” you whisper again, breaking the dam you’ve been building block by block this whole time, just like you were afraid of. And you can’t fucking stop. “Yoongi…”

Then, when his eyes slide shut, you think he’ll let you go. Why can you only say his name? Why the fuck are you ruining this singular moment that you’ve only dreamed of having wait wait why is he resting his forehead against yours fuck wait—

“You know how long,” he breathes out, “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that again.” 

Have mercy.

Your soul finally snaps in two. 

You can only say it once more, broken and chipped, before Yoongi grips your jaw and kisses you like it’s his last minute on earth. 

And you push back with a ferocity that’s been dormant for years, a magnificent flame never awakened by anyone else. Nothing else. Just him. Only him. 

Rivers stream from your eyes as his arms circle you, hands gripping the skin of your back as your nails rake down his. Around you, people dance and bump into your bodies, but neither of you seem to fucking care. No one else exists. The only music you hear is every deep breath Yoongi takes and it’s your favorite, favorite, favorite.

You shouldn’t be doing this. There’s no possible way this doesn’t leave you without a broken heart and a shell of whatever intact spirit you have left. 

But goddamn if you don’t stay in the now more than ever. 

“I don’t give a shit,” you tumble into his mouth, waiting until he pulls away enough for you to spill every forbidden thought you’ve harbored in your beating chest. “I don’t care if you never loved me. I don’t care if you moved on. I just—just tonight, Yoongi, I need you—”

Your plea is engulfed by another soulshaking push of his lips, and you think that’s the end of it until he tugs away from you before swerving his head around the floor. 

“Come here,” he orders, gripping your hand and reminding you just how perfect his fingers slot with yours. 

Time. You’re getting more time? Your tears and the burning in your chest don’t quell as you’re led through the crowd. When you get strange or pitied looks, you don’t care. All these perfectly dressed people can fuck off. 

When they stare at the man guiding you, that’s what gets your stomach flaring. They can have him. Just after you get one last time to carry you through the rest of your loveless life. 

Yoongi suddenly turns to look at you trailing behind, and he waits to bring you in front of his side, now leading you both together through the rest of the packed floor. 

Ah. This is the man you remember. 

And that just makes everything hurt even more. 

Soon, you’re led off the dance floor and through a series of turns, Yoongi heading up a long back staircase before rounding into a hallway of doors before he checks each one. 

What are these? Karaoke rooms? Party rooms? You don’t know, but the ache in your body hunches you over, and it takes everything to not crumble before he finally stops and yanks open a door. 

“Yoongi, what are you—?”

A dim, neon-lit room is what you come to, and you hear a faint click while noticing the long window looking out into the club below.  Different lounge chairs and couches fill the space, and you can see just enough out the glass to know you’re even high above the VIP tables. The room feels exclusive but you don’t get to observe anything else as you’re being pushed into the nearest wall to be liplocked again. 

Fuck, he’s gotten even better at this. 

Just like you have. 

As your dress is gripped tight, your thoughts all blur together in a lustful slurry. How many has he taken to bed after you? Do you remember your own count? Has anyone else made him feel like you do? With a searing green flare, you remember that no one has come close to him. How awfully one-sided would that be if he found someone that completed him.

A veiny hand grips the side of your neck before sliding to your head. “Fuck,” Yoongi grits out. “I… I can’t.” 

...What? 

No. No no no. 

Your heart begins its fast descent. Because if Yoongi doesn’t want this, you have to respect that. As much as you will scream into the night, you’re not gonna stop him if he gets up and leaves. 

Because you did. So why shouldn’t he get that same chance to destroy you? 

“I get it,” you hitch out, holding his strong wrist with shaky fingers. It’s only fair. This felt too good to be true anyway. “I know.” 

“It’s not that.” Yoongi slides his free hand on the wall, holding it at your shoulder. “I just… Fuck, if we do this, I can’t promise I’ll hold back.” 

Oh. Fuck that. 

You tug the warm silver around his neck. “Then don’t,” you urge to his grunt. “If this is all we get? I don’t fucking care.” 

“Even if I t—”

“Do it, Yoongi,” you plead with a gritted cry. “You can do anything to me, whatever it is just do it.” 

“Fuck.” 

All doubt flees from his eyes as your back gets smushed into the wall, your lips puffed and parting when he places hot, open mouthed kisses down your column. 

Hands keep their quest in gathering up your dress. And you make quick work of his belt before pulling, tugging, yanking it out of its holster. 

“The fuck,” he shoots out. “Who the fuck taught you that?”

Your eyes flicker to his as you grip the hem of his jeans. “You really wanna know?”

“No.” He switches up on a dime. “Don’t tell me.”

Your lips collide again before he rips his mouth down to attack your chest, nipping at a spot that has you flinching and hand sliding between your legs. When he runs a finger along your underwear, his eyes practically burn out as he growls, “You’re this fucking wet already?”

“I told you,” you gasp out. “I need you.” 

Your hand is yanked to the front of his jeans, and shock and emotion completely cover the expanse of your face feeling how unbelievably hard he is.

Unfazed, Yoongi continues kissing up to your shoulder, leaving hot saliva trails all over your skin and bunching your silk in his hands. “Seeing you in this? Lost my shit.”

“You're lying.”

“All fuckin' night."

“Liar.”

Liar, liar. A bold faced lie. You saw him talking to other people. You saw his anger piercing across the club. But you watch as his look levels, and your cheeks sizzle at the way he shifts his jaw, 

“I’d never lie to you.” 

Shit. Your heart bats eyelashes before you shove it out of frame. 

The organ in your chest is a walking liability, especially when it’s connected to your mouth. So there are many, many things you might reveal tonight in the throes of agony and passion. Things you will regret come morning waking to an empty bed. 

The best way to not say anything that could potentially do more harm than good? Keep your lips occupied. And that’s exactly what you intend to do. 

“We’ll see,” you grit out, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. When Yoongi lets you twist to shove him back against the wall, his eyes flare in dark need when he hisses, 

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” 

To show him how you’ve grown in the years you separated, to show him what he could’ve fucking had. 

To show him that you aren’t taking a single bit of this last, serendipitous night for granted. 

Kneeling slow, you slide your hands along his clothed chest, kissing his chains exactly how you used to and smearing lipstick all the way down his jersey.

“Fuck…”

Balancing on your heels, you wince at the tight bend in your knees, but you aren’t going down completely because your kneecaps aren’t what they used to be. Fuck that. You can do plenty in a low squat anyway, and he’s seen you look a hell of a lot more awkward many times. “Shit,” you still whisper. “You’re lucky I can’t wait to swallow you.”

A curse flings out of his mouth. “Get up, babe.”

Heart ringing at the name, you reject his order with a harsh, “Shut up.” 

You want this, and you know for a fact he does, too. When Yoongi tries to bend, you pull down his underwear, springing his cock free and almost salivating at the sight. 

Just like you remember. Everything about him is just how you remember, and yet his body has only gotten stronger and filled out in all the perfect places. Yoongi’s a man now. A real, grown man. 

If you both just met tonight, you know he would’ve asked for your name before anything else.

Cut the shit. You are not getting into that now, not when you have him with hands trembling against a wall before you take him in your palm. As soon as you touch, Yoongi expels a deep groan, kicking his head back and gripping the wall with a large hand.

What’s going on? You haven’t even done anything yet. Why does your chest constrict at how sensitive he is? This isn’t the time to relax, but you really can’t help but soften at his complete and utter unravelling. 

It’s almost as if nothing’s changed. 

Yoongi lowers his gaze, and you lock glistening eyes before you take him in your mouth, slow on the tip and swirling to get it coated and prepped just right. Your hand expertly glides along his solid, slick length, squeezing at the spot you know makes him fold. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasps out, hand hesitating to palm your head before balling in a fist against plaster. “Shit, babe..”

Again? Does he even realize what he’s saying? Is he trying to hurt you because if that’s his goal it’s fucking working. 

Anger, regret, painful nostalgia drives you forward, sinking his velvety ridges inside your throat and proving to him how much better you’ve gotten. With every plunge, you hollow your cheeks, already feeling the telltale searing at your eyes and spiraling up your throat. His endless stream of sounds and praise tumble down your skin, and you keep sucking mercilessly even when his hips buck and his eyes squeeze tight.

Releasing with a loud pop, you feel a huge strain on your soaked legs as you adjust, tilting your drenched chin to bury your face in his sack to lick and take it in.

“Baby..”

At this new, old nickname, you grip his cock tighter, swallowing him whole again just to hide your real tears behind the ones streaming from taking him in so deep. 

More. You give more, and more, and more. Time will take away everything else so what you can give is all you got.

Hands grip your head in desperation, and you let Yoongi push you onto his length until your airway is closed tight, nose and cheeks flush against the skin of his thighs. His scent is heady and just like you remember, if only slightly different due to the new musky cologne he’s probably sticking with nowadays. Not like you can focus on it too long because your airway is screaming to be freed again. 

Tears leak over your lashes as want slicks your cunt, and you hear syllables that could be words before you finally give his legs a telltale tap.

Oxygen floods your lungs as more tears stream from your eyes, lips sopping wet and saliva leaving your chin in strings. Gulping, you go right back to it, taking him in again and pumping his slick ridges quick.

“Get up,” he commands with a rasp so deep it rumbles your chest. “Get the fuck up.” 

You’re pulled upward so fast your legs cry at the bends, and you’re spun so quick the wall hits your shoulderblade and you cry out into a furious mouth. 

Pleasure and pain intertwine as you match his intensity, raking at his shoulders and clawing into his hair. With each kiss, he reaches deeper into your throat, and you know he can taste himself on your tongue with the way he claims it in waves.

For a moment, there’s no one else in the world. You aren’t in a dimly lit lounge in a club away from home. You’re right here in his bedroom, getting slung and dragged along his wall and knocking every one of his plaques and posters off-kilter. 

“Yoongi, I—”

“I know.”

Without further prompt, Yoongi wrenches at your dress to shove it up to your hip, burning a path along your leg with expert fingers. As you hook itover his smooth forearm, your lips part when his other hand slides between your thighs. 

You know your underwear is soaked all the way through. 

And now, so does he. “Goddamn.”

“I can’t take it anymore,” you gasp out. “Just—”

“Are you still on the—”

“Yes.”

Shifting the sodden material to the side, Yoongi wastes no time, angling himself to rub over your folds and moaning in tandem with you because holy fuck this already feels so—

“This fucking pussy,” Yoongi grits out, sliding in perfectly and so smoothly it’s like neither of you ever left each other's sides. Your high moan cuts into the cherry ceiling when he sounds like he’s just struck gold, “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Yoongi, please—”

He’s talking absolute nonsense. Gonna be? How is that possible when you won’t see him again? 

All questions vaporize when Yoongi’s hips snap up, launching you up the wall again, and again, and again. Pops of need and lust zoom straight to your head, sparkling out of your eyes when you feel his lips smothering your neck. 

You’re in heaven. You’re in hell. It feels so good it hurts. Caught in a flurry of need and anguish, your nails rake down his shoulders before scratching at his arms, shivering at his outright growl, 

“Don’t do that.”

“Oh, I—”

“Do that shit again and I’ll come.” 

Shit. You don’t understand how he could be so shameless. You’re trying your hardest to keep it together and here he is saying whatever the fuck he wants? If you let your mouth just as loose as he has there’s no telling what you’d be shouting out. 

But you settle for an apology for now, just in case you actually hurt him, “Sorry.. My nails are super long right now.”

“I noticed.” Another thrust launches you into the sky. “They look good but they hurt like hell.”

“Oh.. Sorry again.” A moan escapes when he shoves into you, mind hazy because he’s still placating you. 

“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.” Devilish, he breaks into a slow smirk you haven’t seen in ages, and your ribcage folds inward and inward. “I’m just not fucking done with you yet.” 

Oh. He doesn’t want this to end, either. 

Now that changes every fucking cog in your brain. 

You keep yourself upright as long as you can, arms slung around his neck as you both move together, dip and lean together, breathe so hard it scorches your chest together. Every muscle in your planted leg burns, but it’s nothing compared to the stare you have connected to his eyes. With each deep thrust, his brows furrow and his teeth peek from his lips, and every groan you hear goes right into a chest for safe keeping. Right next to all the other memories you want to lock away.

Yoongi’s pace starts to quicken the more your mewls encourage him. What was sensuous is now unbearable and, as your dress threatens to shift, you know your breasts will be on full display soon, and Yoongi bites his lip with a grunt with his next hard thrusts.

Soon enough, you feel a chill on your nipples as they’re freed, moaning to the ceiling when Yoongi immediately heats one whole with his tongue. “Baby!”

Goddamn it. You weren’t supposed to address him like that, too. But maybe it’s better than saying his name because every time you do there’s a charge sparking the air. 

So you decide to switch, moaning the same word over and over as he licks and sucks, dragging his teeth along your exposed chest and littering it with heavy proof of his lips. Just like the lipstick on his jersey, you know he’s claimed his own marks on your skin. 

And neither of you will be able to hide them when you part.

Expelled tension flits about in light streaks as you move with him, slick with exertion and tight with muscles working in double time. You both know this is the last time and you’re acting like it. And you send a prayer to the heavens to let time stop just to keep holding him in your arms. 

Suddenly, your heel slips, and you yelp before strong arms keep you upright. “Shit, sorry.”

“I got you.”

Summer sunsets smother your vision as you let him guide you from the wall, gently placing your leg down and leading you to a sofa. Everything simmers to a lull, and you have a moment to catch your breath and steady your racing, racing heartbeat. 

When Yoongi sits on vibrant cushions, you admire the way his biceps fill those sleeves right as he tugs his jersey clean off. And you have to fight to not teeter over, continuing to stare in awe at him, so perfectly filled in some placed and chiseled in others that you start to wonder how you even left in the first place.

Of course you know why you did. So why bring it up now when you’re right here? Why agonize over the past when you’re standing right between his legs?  

“Baby.” 

You flick your gaze back up to his. 

“Stay with me.”

Tears zing up your eyes as you nod, heart plugging your throat as you mount his toned thighs. When you feebly place hands on his searing shoulders, you hate the way your words shake on the way out, “Stay in the now. I know.”

Yoongi’s eyes shine with a light in them you weren’t sure was there before. But you can’t wait long enough for confirmation because your heart is keeling over with ache. 

He remembers. He remembers. Does that mean he’s thought about you, too? 

Focus on something else. No time to think about the past, nor the future. No time to notice that the way Yoongi looks at you now is so heartbreakingly similar to how he worshipped you before. Back when things were perfectly imperfect. Back when you were sure he loved you before he proved to you that he didn’t. 

“Still so beautiful.”

Liquid fire fills your eyes as your breath hitches, guiding his length to your entrance before sinking onto him with no issue. When you both groan, you let your glittery vision watch the ceiling instead of him when you admit, 

“You look so fucking good in red.”

There’s no response as you breathe, angling yourself to feel him deep and moving in a slow push and pull along his legs. Your thin chain tightens as your neck strains above Yoongi’s head, and you wish you had the guts to look down at the ones around his neck. They’re already deadly resting on his clothes, but rocking against the flush of his skin is how you love them the most.

Still, you can’t bear to look. You know you’ll lose yourself in those eyes if you dare stare long enough. Because what you saw earlier looked too close to longing, which would be impossible because that only exists in yours. 

“And,” you whoosh out in tired breaths, gripping your fingers on him a little tighter, “Looks like you.. finally hit the gym.. like I kept fucking saying.” 

A puff of warm laughter hits your chest before sweaty hands grip your waist. “Always said I would.”

“But you never did,” you huff out, grinding on him harder and melting at his little sounds. One thing you will keep giving this man credit for: he isn’t ashamed to be just as vocal as you are. The more people you ended up meeting? The rarer and rarer you realized that bedroom quality was. 

“I did eventually,” he grits, holding you in place and surging into you so hard you yelp to the stars. “Didn’t I.”

“Fuck you,” you bite, moaning when your argument dies the moment his tongue swirls around a nipple again. What’s left comes out a garbled mess of a groan, and you hate, hate, hate the dark chuckle against your breast. Partly because he’s a constant problem, and partly because you yearn to see his smile again. 

“What else is new about you,” Yoongi suddenly rasps, hands lowering to rest on your hips as you ride him. “Aside from clearly getting better at this.”

Lost in lust and surprised at his question, you finally peer down to see him looking up already. “No thanks to you.”

And your world stills as he doesn’t respond right away, any hint of sunlight fading from his features. “No thanks to me,” he slowly agrees. 

Fuck. You didn’t mean to do that. 

Slowly slipping hands from his body, you rise from his length and mourn the disconnect before standing. When Yoongi only regards you with eyes on fire, you slowly turn and rest on his thighs. 

He’s not gonna like this. But he asked.

You turn your head before slowly sliding one side of your dress completely down, revealing a rough scar on your back a little lower than your shoulder.

And your soul immediately clenches when Yoongi heats your back with his body heat. “The fuck?” His fingers feel so light, so protective as they caress your mark. It’s confusing, and you abhor it as much as you need it. “What happened?”

“I fell,” you whisper. “Pretty hard.” 

Details of how and when it happened don’t matter. But he wanted to know what was new, and the scar on your heart isn’t exactly readily available to show. 

“I did, too.” 

What? At his voice over your shoulder, you strain your neck to see him. “When?”

Why is he kissing your scar? Exes don’t do that. Exes don’t do anything you’re doing right now. 

“Before you left.”

Now you feel worse. When the hell did that happen? Why didn’t you know about it? “Sorry,” you breathe out with sorrow. “I didn’t know.”

Another slow, calm graze of his mouth tightens your throat. Because he’s since moved across your back, lips now touching where your shoulderblade hit the wall. 

“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “I never told you.” 

He never told you many things.

Stepping into dangerous territory is making you regret showing him your worst moment. So you shift your ass to push over his cock, feeling it throb against you when you wisp out the worst reminder, “We don’t have much time.”

“Mm.”

When you feel his hands shift your dress, you lift up and allow you both to effortlessly situate you back where you wanna be. Your back hits his chest as he guides himself up into your folds, and your head kicks back to lie across his shoulder like the red silk flowing over your thigh. 

“Just like you said,” you start to whisper, eyes already welling with oncoming regret, “One last time.” Every syllable just as melancholic as the notes of your favorite song. 

When Yoongi starts, your heart weeps at the pace. Because it reminds you of better times, sensuous and intentional and convincing you to confess all over again. It takes everything not to speak, your moans escaping in weak puffs and your hips swelling in a calm wave. 

This is too much. This is way too fucking much and you finally break when his name leaves you like a prayer. “Harder,” you beg. “Please, please go—”

You’re cut off as soon as his hips jolt up, flinging you to life before going at a menacing pace. Yes yes yes this is the one you need. The one you crave. The one that leaves no room for feelings and decisions. Your dress threatens to slip off your sides with each pound, slowly rolling and accentuating your chest in seconds. “Shit, holy shit!”

“Fuck, you’re so tight—”

“So fucking big—”

As if knowing exactly what you want, your arms are held back, locked into place as you’re under the absolute mercy of his dick slamming up into you over and over, skin slapping obscene and thighs burning from the stretch across his lap. 

Yoongi knows you better than anyone else. A frustrated growl tears from your lips as you arch so far back you connect clouds, and a strong forearm wraps across your stomach to pin you so fucking close you may as well mold right into him. Passion streaks down your limbs as sweat beads along your skin, the heady scent of sex and forbidden fruit swirling into your nose. 

More. More more more he’s giving you everything. As your arms are freed, you can only grip the other forearm slinging over your upper chest, nails digging into creamy skin and leaving angry, cherry red lines.

Words, praise, everything under the sun is being spewed onto your slick shoulders as you mash your teeth and eyes tight. You even hear a word you’ve been wanting to hear for years, but that can’t possibly be true because there’s no way Yoongi would ever—

A hand closes around your throat, and your eyes fly back into your head.

You’re so close. Fucking hell, your thighs are singing and your throat is burning and your abdomen strains from the arch but you need this release. You need this tidal wave to consume you. If only to forget for a split second that Yoongi isn’t—

“—yours.”

What?

Another fierce round of thrusts almost topples the two of you over, and white hot pressure paints the edges of your eyes as you strain for breath. You’re so close. So fucking close it’s right within reach.

But it all vanishes in a snap as Yoongi stops, and you cry with a teary rasp, “No, please, baby—”

“Not yet.” He hauls you up, making you sit straight and facing away yet again. “You know what to do.” 

Fuck. There’s no way he remembers this, too. You flinch at the slap to your breast before shakily getting up, legs wobbly but positioning yourself on his cock perfectly before sliding down. 

Both heels planted on the ground, you brace his strong knees and work his slick length, eyes rolling at his breathy groans and curses leaving his mouth in spurts. 

You know exactly what to do to make him lose his goddamn mind. So you do it all, swirling and swerving your hips while flicking off your silk, showing him the best view of your ass as it bounces. Your legs tire, but you don’t, and you use the music leaking into the room to set your sickening, aggravating pace. 

“Fuck, baby..”

“You asked for it.”

“Don’t regret a goddamn thing.” 

You can tell he’s on the brink of madness, and you can only picture the way his head thumps back on the couch, mouth torn by his teeth and brows furrowed to hell. His muscles are probably contracting in waves, including the ones in his perfect, bulging arms. 

“You shouldn’t,” you hum. “Since this is all you get.” 

Without a word, hands reach out and tug you backward, and you’re up on your feet and tripping before your hands slap the firm cushions of the next chair over. “What the fu—”

To your absolute delight, Yoongi plants a foot on the chair before gripping the pliant dip of your hips, pushing tears from your eyes with each quick, deep thrust he rams forward. Stars dance along your vision as drool leaks endlessly from your mouth. “Baby—! Fuck!”

“This pussy’s so.. Fuck.” You’re shoved so far down that your moist cheek smushes into firm cushion. “Say my name.”

“Babe—”

“As much as I wanna hear that every fucking day”—Yoongi shoves into you again and keeps his cock thrumming inside your cunt—“Right now, I’m gonna hear my name. So say it.”

“Yoongi—”

His deep, gritted command makes you snap, “Louder.”

“Yoongi—!” 

You feel it. You’re at the brink again. With every snap of his skin pounding against yours, you’re inching closer and closer and closer to the edge, waiting for the fall that will end you. “Baby, I’m gonna—”

Firm arms haul you upward and you’re both travelling the room again, legs skittering until you hit back first into the nearest wall fuck that took your breath out.

Yoongi’s breath catches as he slams a hand against the plaster to steady, face burrowed in your neck and hair brushing harsh against your ear as he buries inside of you again. Fire spews from his mouth as you feel his cock squeeze up into your cunt, and his arm tenses tight behind your knee as he commands,

“Come for me, love.”

You don’t know what the fuck you just heard but you know he didn’t just say—

“I said come.”

Instinct. Pure, animalistic instinct surges your orgasm forward in a high crest, breaking onto shore in hot, white waves as you tremble around him. Your cunt squeezes and tugs, your poor leg threatening collapse as Yoongi roughly hums so deep against your chest. Pleasure, starlight, the warmth of an afternoon faraway heats your body just right, and one crash leads into the next so effortlessly that tears zip down your cheeks.

Your name rips from Yoongi’s throat. 

And it’s enough to send you right over the edge again.

How the fuck is this possible how the hell can someone break you with your own name how can Yoongi have this much of a hold on you when it’s been literal years? It doesn’t make any sense and the cries into his neck as he holds you close are akin to sobs. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re your way of mourning everything that could’ve been. Everything that will never be. 

But at least you were able to have him, shaking in your grasp and pulsing in your core. One more night. One last time. 

“Fuck it, come here.” 

Your sobs are yanked from the wall again, and you don’t know up from left as you're thrown onto a sofa, back curling as Yoongi tugs your head upright. Your tears slide down your neck, wetting your necklace as he breathes out, 

“Again.” 

Fuck! Your cunt tightens around him as you gasp out, “I can’t… I can’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Yoongi growls, clutching your chin and flinging hot spit onto your face that catapults you into another level of need you’ve never been to holy fuck. Smothering it against your cheeks, he taps you once and it brings destruction. “I said again.” 

All your limbs lock at the bends as you throw your head in a strained cry, a release that overpowers all the others flushing through your veins and igniting beams out of your sweaty chest. Wave upon wave crashes into your soul and your ears ring so loud you can barely hear or see Yoongi watching from above. You can’t. You’re too caught in chaos. You can’t see the way he looks at you. 

“Come for me, Yoongi,” you suddenly plead, “Let go.”

“Let me pull—”

“Do it now,” you hitch out. “Come inside.”

A prolonged moan leaves his mouth as he launches into a pace that has you screaming, teeth gritted to hell and fingers gripping you so hard you know they’re going to bruise. But who cares when your skin will match your heart? Who gives a fuck about anything else anymore?

Beautiful weight crushes your chest as Yoongi’s body turns erratic, jolting and seizing up. And you know he’s racing to his own cliff to dive and you’re gonna be right there to catch him. Slinging your arms around his drenched back and fisting the wet base of his hair, you’re already ready and waiting with harsh harsh breaths, because you're about to break him.

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to his ear, ravaging his slick neck with your lips and scraping teeth over his ear just how he likes, hearts beating as one when you stop just to connect your forehead to his. With a singular, throaty gasp, you plead,

“One last time.”

Yoongi’s sudden release sends a pulse through the air, and your core beats and beats with each pump of essence he spews inside. Heaven and earth collide with stars as you hold tight, and your thighs shake as he finishes filling you with the longest orgasm you have ever, ever seen him endure. 

The float down doesn’t come quick, both of you softly suspended in time and air. Steam radiates from your skin and flows from your mouths with each breath, and beads of sweat slip down his jewelry as he stares with a deep vastness in his eyes. 

Why is he so quiet? 

Why are you so quiet? 

Why do you feel like crying again? 

With one more shaken breath, Yoongi swallows, chest heaving right after as he struggles to gather himself. His shoulders are so broad when he moves under your hands, closing his eyes as soon as your brows touch,

“I know it’s over.”

Your heart flares.

“But I need you to know.”

Stars light the night sky.

“I love you. And I always will.”

A sob breaks your silence, hand flying to cup your mouth before you hunch forward into his trembling chest. Days and days of pent up anger and sadness spill out all at once, and you weep into his chest because you can’t bear to let go. 

“I know you’ve moved on,” Yoongi continues with a shake to his words, not pausing at the way you choke and weep. “But I’ve regretted never saying it back then. And I’m not gonna get another chance.”

What the fuck is happening. What does he mean? What does he mean? Your body can’t stop as it locks and locks, sobs wracking your chest because this is fucked up and confusing and everything you’ve been wanting for the longest time. This is all you wanted. And you only get it at the very end. 

“I didn’t even say goodbye,” you shake out. When you lift your trembling head, his lips are already so achingly close to yours and his hand moves to steady your neck. “I left and never came back.”

When his eyes are the only ones that speak, you start to spill everything out, words tumbling into one another and pinging to the floors around your tired feet,

“I tried so hard to forget you. Tried so, so hard to stop loving you. Every day, I’d wake up wanting nothing to do with you, only to see you in my dreams and remember how it felt to—to—” 

Bright red flares across Yoongi’s eyes as he keeps listening, jaw pulsing and brows so tense. 

“At first, I was so angry. At you, at myself, at the world for letting me love you when you never loved me back. But now, I know what I did was wrong. And I regret it every day that I live.” 

When your face contorts in sorrow, Yoongi brings a hand up to wipe your cheek, thumb brushing away your tears. “I did, babe.” Your breath stops and your eyes splay wide. “Just never had the guts to say it first.” 

First. 

Yoongi loved you all the way back then? Before that starry night that’s kept your heart captive for so long? It pulses against your chest, ramming and ramming into your ribcage to get to his. 

Only one question barrels through your mind. “…Why?”

Yoongi looks from one eye to the next. “Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”

Everything clicks into place and you suddenly feel so, so upset. You are going to fight this man to the moon and back. Or, better yet, you’re gonna fight him to the moon and leave him there. “You think I thought that way?”

“No.” He sighs, chains shaking over your chest. “And I replay that night over, and over. Knowing that I’d do anything to go back and tell you how I felt.” 

Yoongi never lived in the past. He was always adamant about staying in the present. So knowing he’d been stuck there right next to you makes your chest collapse before slipping down into the deep sea. 

“When I saw you today? Every day I told myself I’d get over you didn’t matter. Every reason I told myself I couldn’t be with you was bullshit.” 

Your throat constricts again.

“But when you kept running.. I knew you were done with me for good.” Yoongi’s hand falls. “And there was nothing I could do to change your mind.”

“Yoongi…”

All this time, you both had your own reasons for avoiding each other. Everything you fed into your logical side was just a ploy to project your feelings, and it turns out Yoongi did the exact same thing. 

He said he wouldn’t be able to hold back if you did this tonight. And now, you’re blessed to know exactly what he meant. 

So you also let everything go. 

“I was never done with you,” you choke out, seeing a swath of emotion brush across his face. “Because I’m still in love with you, and I will be even if you walk out of here without me.”

Musk and heaven consumes you in a hug, and you cry into a bare shoulder as you hear Yoongi vow something so full of longing and conviction you hold him tighter, 

“I’m not going anywhere else without you.” 

Music continues to pulse outside, lasers continue to dance around the room. But you see nothing but the light in your lover's eyes. 

And it’s a beautiful, beautiful sunrise. 

—

—

When you both finally part, it’s only to let him get dressed and for you to use the nearest restroom. In the quiet wake of your emotional storm, Yoongi walks you to the window spanning the far wall of the lounge, and you both watch the club floors move and sway from above. And it’s only now that you feel shy. It’s only now that you feel nervous seeing everyone below. 

But a thought occurs to you that dashes all others away, 

“How did you know to come up here?” 

Yoongi gives you a look that you raise a brow at. “I…” He sighs. “Let’s just say I know my way around this place.”

Ah. Of course. “Come here often?”

“Not for the reasons you think.”

Your brows are fully bent now. “…Huh?”

“I own the building.” Hands busy, he adjusts his jersey as if he didn’t drop the biggest shock of the century on your toes. “And a couple others in the city.”

What. 

Pause pause pause hold the fucking phone. 

Yoongi lives in this city? He owns what? This is a little too much to take in, but you have time. And you’re gonna hound him for every single detail of his life that you’ve missed. 

You have time. Your prayer had been answered tenfold. And you send endless gratitude to the sky. 

But suddenly, a second realization pierces your mind and you lightly shove him. When Yoongi looks at you in shock, you yell out, “You asked what’s new and I showed you a scar! Now you tell me you own a fucking building?” 

Your lover laughs, and the sun rises even higher over your horizon. Ducking your next swipe, he’s already back to irritating you again as he clarifies, “I said more than one—”

“Oh, fuck you!” 

He rushes forward and gathers you in his arms, not caring if anyone sees your embrace in the window. “You wanna go again?” 

Your face heats as your eyes roll heavenward, exactly where you feel like you are in this moment. “I have a pretty big hotel room,” you divulge. “And no one to share that bedroom with unless someone else catches my eye tonight, so…”

Yoongi’s eyes crease as he kisses your forehead. “Fuck that. Take me home.” 

Your giggles into his chin bubble out in pink, poppable spheres. 

As magnificent and dreamlike all of this has been, you're starting to find logic again. Because more than one question badgers into your mind.

How long have you been gone? Have your friends not even checked on you? Did they try? Did they leave do they even still have the... table…

Wait.

Everything else clicks into place. 

The random city everyone flew to that Jeongguk picked. The infamous club and dress code you heard about from Taehyung. The table that Hoseok bragged about getting…

“...You're the one that got us VIP.” 

That stupid, annoying, ridiculous grin. Of course this is how you'd be reminded of how much you love to hate it.

“Now come dance with me,” he says with teeth still flashing wide. “Let’s see if you ever got that step.” 

Eyes sparkling, you let him lead you down and onto the dance floor, moving through until you’re suddenly next to your friends that shout and holler at your arrival together. 

“All of you are crazy!” You yell out, tears in your smile as they burst into laughter. “Why didn’t you just tell me!”

Yoongi grabs hold of you before chuckling into your ear. “I told them not to.” 

“Why?”

“Didn’t know if you were really done.” He grips you tight, face falling into seriousness. “But I heard you broke up with someone a month ago. This was my only chance and I took it.” 

Holy fucking shit.

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek with purpose. “I love you.”

Yoongi’s cheeks rise high, dimples prominent and eyes carrying the light of the universe. Lips close, he responds how he wanted to the first time.

And you seal your devotion with a kiss full of starlight. 

“Ugh, here we go.”

“Already at it again, huh.”

"Figures. Didn't you see his jersey?"

“Get another room—!”

Suddenly, the same song that used to haunt you comes on once more, but this time, you welcome it with a swell of freedom in your chest. The waves of your mind calm, washing onto an empty beach and fading into a mesmerizing valley of blue.

Yoongi grins as he holds your hand, and you can't help but stretch your mouth wide as you both immerse into the crowd, moving and spinning and stepping perfectly together on every beat. Laughter and joy fills the space between your hearts as you all cheer, sharing this infinite moment together as fate intended.  

In a beautiful, unforgettable dance. 

-

-

fin :)

-

hi lovelies what did we think !! | main masterlist

a/n: so don't ask how i managed to write all of this in a single day (now two) lol i think this madrid yoongi broke me. anyways, here's the sidequest that became the main quest for a bit! i'm back to writing three tangerines so 3tan13 will be finished here real soon :D thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoyed this irresistible ex turned lover yoongiiiii :DD did i cry? yes. can you prove it? no!!!!

a/n 2: as always, reblogs and comments and asks are always super appreciated! i love sharing things with you guys and a big part of that is getting to hear what you all liked and what you're excited about. happy to chat, and thank you for reading!

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here!

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

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

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

“Sorry…” you muttered again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm not taking you anywhere, y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were a cheater.

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

Yoongi simply didn't care.

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

“Official or not, the point still stands.”

“Does it?” he questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part of you felt the same. Anyone but Yoongi. 

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

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

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

“Think about what I said, sweetheart.”

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

Everything this world has to offer…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Kookie Cake 🍪🍰’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, love you! Call you tomorrow!”

“Love you too. Bye.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crazy, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N-Nothing. We’re doing nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Strip for me,” he says suddenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-fuck—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-oh fuck… Yoongi!” You cry out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes! I like when you fuck me!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist

Jungkook sighed, his lip ring clanking against his teeth as he pulled his bottom lip inward. “Can we talk inside? I really don’t wanna do this in your hallway.” He pleaded. Jungkook was never truly the confrontational type, which contradicted you because you in fact were the confrontational type.

You huffed, brushing past him to unlock your apartment door. Once both of you were inside, you shut the door firmly. Jungkook immediately walked to your couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside him as an invitation for you to sit. You hesitated for a brief moment before giving in, placing your plushy and purse on the table.

You sat beside him, hands clasped tightly in your lap, avoiding eye contact. The tension in the silence was thick. “So... why weren't you at work today? It's not like you to miss a shift.” he finally started. You fiddled with your fingers, scrambling for an excuse for your absence. “I….umm… went to the Daegu fair,” you admitted, only fabricating the truth just a tad. "With Mina."

Jungkook tilted his head, a frown forming his lips. "You did a no-call, no-show to go to the Daegu fair? What were you thinking?" he asked, ready to lecture you. You certainly weren't in the mood to hear it, especially from him. Not now. It felt like he was deliberately trying to pivot away from the real issue at hand; your relationship and his cold, dead silence.

"I was thinking I wanted to have some fun, and not sit at work wondering why the man I care about ghosted me for two days." you snapped. This brought the brunet down a notch, making him exhale heavily. The room fell silent once again, but not for very long. "Look, I'm sorry," Jungkook said. "It's just... we've been best friends since we were kids and–"

“And you still only see me as that." You cut him off.

"No," he countered sternly. "What we have is special because of our history. We got to be best friends before having a romantic connection, which is rare. You're not like any girl I've dated. You’re much more to me. I don't want to mess this up. I don't wanna lose you. I can't. The thought terrifies me because I’m losing more than my girl, I’m losing my best friend too,"

Your eyes finally connected with his, your demeanor softening at his words. "I want our first time to be special," he continued. "I don't want it to be random sex like I’m used to. I want your first experience to be your best experience.”

You sighed, nodding your head. "You're right. It should be special..." you replied. You understood Jungkook's view; it was sweet, and it showed just how much he truly valued you. You appreciated his sentiment, but you were still frustrated. Sexually frustrated. You were ready for more. It was easy for Jungkook to sideline sex when he’d been having it since high school. Meanwhile, you, the innocent virgin, had spent all this time waiting for your first crush to choose you. Now that he finally has, the reward feels slightly lackluster.

"I'm sorry," you finally said. You weren't entirely sure if you meant it, but for now, you just wanted to put the drama behind you. Jungkook smiled, taking your hands in his, and you gladly let him. "I missed you," he said. "It doesn't feel right not talking to you every day."

You returned a genuine smile. "The feeling is mutual. But if you ever ghost me again, prepare for me to come to the tattoo shop with a vengeance." You playfully squinted your eyes at him.

Jungkook chuckled, nodding his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He says. After a moment of silence the brunet’s eyes flicked behind you, catching sight of the new plush toy sitting on top of the table. “Nice plushie,” he smirked, knowing all too well how much you loved anything Hello Kitty related. “Guess you and Mina had a good time at the fair, huh?”

You followed his gaze to the plushie. “Yeah… surprisingly, I did.” You chewed on your bottom lip, your mind suddenly miles away, fixed on the raven.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up today after ditching without a call," Jimin said, a smirk plastered on his face as he stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of water. "The old man's gonna have a field day." He was joking, but there was truth to it.

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. You knew a lecture was coming, along with an endless amount of dish and bathroom duty. Possibly even termination. Mr. Kim hated when staff called in, but he especially loathed it when they didn’t.

"I’m nervous as it is," you said. "Did Mr. Kim say anything to you about me?"

"To me? No," Jimin replied, setting the glasses down at the table he was waiting on. "But you know how he is about punctuality. No exceptions."

You rubbed the nape of your neck and slowly shuffled toward the back of the kitchen to meet your doom.

“Good luck!” Jimin teased.

God, what would you do if you lost your job at Makoto? The job market was brutal right now, and finding new employment wouldn’t be easy. You were terrified of the domino effect that would follow.

Mr. Kim noticed you immediately upon entering the kitchen, but to your surprise, he only nodded in your direction. "Good evening, y/n. Glad to see you came in today," he said calmly before dusting his hands on his apron. “Hurry up and clock in, Jimin could use some assistance out there.”

Your eyebrows scrunched. ‘That’s it? No yelling? No speech? What's his angle?’ you wondered hesitantly.

“O-oh, uh… of course…” you stammered. You grabbed your time card and swiped it through the clock. You glanced back at Mr. Kim, who handled the orders just as he did on any other day. But today shouldn’t have been like ‘any other day’. It should have been a day of reckoning for ditching work yesterday, yet Mr. Kim didn’t even seem to care. You decided that you would just rip the bandage off and bring it up yourself.

"Hey, Mr. Kim, about not calling in yesterday…" you started, but the old man instantly cut you off.

"Don't worry about it, kid! It happens." He said, quickly dismissing the conversation.

You stood stunned. This was certainly unlike your boss. Mr. Kim could be kind when he wanted to be, but when it came to work, he was a stickler for the rules. As Jimin had said, there were no exceptions.

You wondered what could have made him so nonchalant about a no-call, no-show, until suddenly, Yoongi's voice flashed through your mind.

"Don't stress about that, princess. I'II deal with your boss after the fact."

Could it be that Yoongi had actually followed through? It was the only explanation for Mr. Kim's uncharacteristic behavior. Even though the raven had said he’d handle it, you hadn’t honestly believed him. You didn’t think Yoongi could actually hold that kind of power over someone as headstrong as Mr. Kim. It left you wondering what else, exactly, that man could control.

Nevertheless, you smiled slightly to yourself, knowing he had used that power to keep your job intact. You grabbed an apron from the hook, along with a notepad and pen, preparing to head out to the floor. Just then, Jimin walked in, his expression uneasy. “What’s your problem?” You ask him, an eyebrow perched.

"T-table three wants you to take their order instead of me," the brunet said.

You didn't even need to question why; his unease told you exactly who was sitting at table three. You nodded, tying your apron around your waist. Jimin exchanged a look with Mr. Kim behind you before you headed out to the dining floor. To your lack of surprise, there sat Yoongi and Joon across from each other. You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, a small smile trying to peek through.

"There's my favorite waitress," the raven smiled as you approached. His left arm rested casually on the back of his chair.

You squinted at him, folding your arms across your chest. "Looks like someone’s too anxious to wait until tonight," you stated.

Yoongi shrugged. “What can I say? You make me feel like I’ve got a school crush. I want to see you whenever I can.” He smirked, biting down on his bottom lip.

You rolled your eyes, but inside, butterflies were already beginning to flutter. “Are you two here to order, or are you just here to cause trouble?” you asked, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want to look like you actually enjoyed Yoongi’s presence, not with Jimin lurking nearby. He had a big mouth, and before you knew it, Jungkook and Mina would find out that there was something unspoken forming between you and Yoongi.

“I don’t know about the boss man here, but I could go for some Jjajangmyeon and a cool bottle of soju. Don’t bring me any of that warm shit,” Joon said.

You eyed the lanky man. “We don’t serve alcohol here,” you stated dryly.

“Well, that’s a fucking buzzkill. What do y’all serve here?”

“You can try looking at the menu in front of you.” You snarked. You couldn’t help the smart remarks when it came to Joon. He simply rubbed you the wrong way, Yoongi’s right-hand man or not. You didn’t like him.

Joon smirked, your snarkiness having no bearing on him. “Someone’s testy today. This isn’t very good customer service,” he joked, though he picked up the menu nonetheless. He scanned through the drink section before closing it. “I’ll take a cola,” he said.

You wrote down his order, then turned to Yoongi, who seemingly hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. “And you?”you questioned the raven.

“I’ll take some water, sweetheart.” The raven said.

You nodded, not needing to write it down. As you collected their menus from the table, you hesitated. “Hey, um…” you started, keeping your voice low. “Thanks for actually talking to my boss. You seriously saved me from getting fired.”

Yoongi tilted his head slightly. “You said ‘actually’ as though you had no faith in my word. You didn’t think I’d talk to your boss?” he questioned.

“You want me to be honest?”

“That’s all I ever want you to be with me, sweetheart.”

“Okay then,” you nodded, keeping your voice hushed so you wouldn't be overheard. “No. I didn’t think you’d talk to my boss. I thought it was just a little lie you told to get me to come with you yesterday.”

The raven smirked at your doubt. “One thing you need to learn about me, princess, is that my word is bond. When I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.” He held his smirk, but there was something beneath it now, something entirely serious. Dangerous, even.

And you liked it. Shamefully.

"Noted," you said, your gaze locked with his dark, intense eyes. Before the moment could stretch any further, the bell above the front door chimed, snapping you back to reality. "'I’ll be right with you-" The customer service voice died in your throat. You froze as you turned around, coming face to face with a familiar brunet.

"J-Jungkook?" You stuttered. “What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook's smile vanished as he looked past you, spotting Yoongi sitting there. He squinted, a hard edge replacing his previously soft expression. "I'm on my break... thought I'd come in to see you." His eyes remained glued to the raven. "What the hell is he doing here?"

You looked back at Yoongi, his eyes dark and intimidating as they always were, his glare on Jungkook vicious. "They're, uh... ordering food," you said. You could feel people in the restaurant starting to stare, Jimin included.

"I think they need to order food somewhere else," Jungkook spat, his gaze hardening on Yoongi.

"Is that right?" The raven finally spoke, his voice dangerously monotone.

"You trying to start somethin', chief?" Joon chimed in, shifting in his seat, fully prepared to back Yoongi. “Because we don’t have a problem sending you out on a stretcher.”

You shivered at those words. Knowing there was no way this situation would end well for Jungkook, you quickly stepped in. Grabbing the bushy haired man by the arm, you pushed him away from their table and steered him toward an empty one across the restaurant."Are you trying to get yourself jumped?" you asked, keeping your voice low as you questioned the brunet.

Jungkook scoffed. "I'm not scared of those pussies like everyone else. Especially when it comes to you." He finally pulled his gaze away from their table and onto you. "You okay? Is he still harassing you?" he asked.

You sighed. You understood Jungkook's frustration with seeing Yoongi. After everything you had told him about your first encounter with the raven, plus his murdered friend having some type of connection to him, you could imagine why he was so bold.

"They're really just here to eat, and no matter how much disdain I have for someone, I still have to act on a professional level while at work. I don't think fighting helps my case."

The brunet ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. "You're right. I'm sorry," he apologized, his hand reaching out to gently rub your arm.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Just sit down and order something. You came here for me, right?" You smiled, hoping that would bring his mood back up. The brunet grinned back, unable to stay angry when you were in his presence. "Right," he agreed, taking a seat at the table you had escorted him to."My focus is on you, beautiful." He placed a hand on your hip.

You could feel the cold stare burning into your back, the raven glaring daggers in your direction.You didn't bother to look back as you kept your attention on Jungkook.

"Hey, waitress," Yoongi's voice suddenly chimed behind you. You turned around. "Is this how your boss runs his establishment? How about instead of fucking around with your little boyfriend, you get us our orders?" There was venom in his voice when he spat the word “boyfriend”. Of course, no one could spot it except you– and maybe Joon. You scowled at the raven for calling you out so loudly.

"Hey," Jimin whispered, quickly walking up to Jungkook's table. He nudged your shoulder. "You take care of their orders, and I'll take Jungkook's. I don't wanna know what those guys will do if they have to wait any longer."

You complied, not wanting to take that chance and find out either. Leaving Jimin to handle Jungkook, you headed back into the kitchen and ripped the order from your notepad to hook it onto the ticket line. "The hell is going on out there?" Mr. Kim asked, frowning.

"Nothing anymore. Jimin and I have it under control," you assured him as you grabbed two cups from the dish shelf. Moving toward the beverage station, you filled both cups with ice before pouring their respective drinks. You marched back out to the dining room and set the cups down on Yoongi's table. "Satisfied?" you asked the raven.

"Not nearly," he grimaced. "What would satisfy me right now would leave you devastated, sweetheart." His voice was calm, but his words were dark. You chose not to push, truly not wanting to know what he meant by that. "Your food should be out shortly," you said to Joon, deliberately avoiding the raven’s eyes.

You turned around, leaving Yoongi and Joon alone at their table. Spotting Jungkook waving you over, you walked up to the grinning brunet with a playful sigh. “Yes, trouble?” you asked. He rolled his eyes at the newfound nickname. “I was thinking… How about a movie night tonight? I think we’re overdue for one.” he suggested. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You mean a repeat of last time? Because unless my memory is failing me, that was an absolute disaster.”

"Yeah, well, this time will be different. After our talk last night, I'm hoping we both have a better understanding of our feelings," he said, taking your hand in his. You tilted your head, biting the inside of your cheek. Even if you did want to give in to his movie night plan, you couldn't. You already had plans with a certain black haired man tonight.

"You know, I'd love to, but I already made plans with Mina tonight,” you lied, offering a convincing smile. "She wants us to have a whole girls' night in. Makeup, nails, talking about our relationships. The whole works."

Jungkook pouted. "First the fair, now a girls' night? I'm beginning to think Mina is stealing my girl." He joked.

You giggled, rolling your eyes at the brunet. "Don't be so dramatic," you said. "We always have tomorrow night."

“Fine,” Jungkook relented, tossing a look of fake defeat your way. “I didn't wanna watch your cheesy movies tonight anyway.”

You gasped, slapping a hand over your heart as if deeply offended. “You love my cheesy movies.”

"No, I love you. There's a difference," Jungkook said.

The words hung heavily in the air between you, and you instantly froze. The words echoed in your mind, catching you entirely off guard. Jungkook had never confessed his feelings so plainly before. You had a lifetime of history together as best friends, but hearing him say those words out loud changed everything in an instant. You stared at him, speechless. Realizing exactly what he had just admitted, Jungkook's eyes widened, and a dark blush rapidly overtook his face.

"S-so tomorrow night?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scratched the nape of his neck in pure embarrassment.

"Uh-yeah... yeah... see you tomorrow night," you stuttered, your voice trailing off.

You had absolutely no idea how to respond, and your only saving grace was a nearby customer waving you over to request their bill. Seizing the lifeline, you quickly retreated to their table and left Jungkook alone with his thoughts. The moment your back was turned, the brunet squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands as he cussed quietly to himself.

You grabbed the customer's card from the table and turned to go swipe it at the kiosk, but before you could move any further, you noticed Yoongi and Joon preparing to leave. You furrowed your brows; Joon's food hadn't even been served yet. "Um... hello? Did you forget you ordered food?" you questioned the lanky man as they walked past you.

Yoongi didn't say a word, his expression unreadable as he moved toward the exit.

"I think I'll pass on the ramen, Wonder Woman. The atmosphere in this joint kinda makes me sick," Joon said.

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue as you watched them head for the door, but they didn't leave without throwing one last vicious glare at Jungkook. Jungkook, of course, glared right back.

"See ya around, chief," Joon scowled in his direction before they finally walked out into the street.

You hadn’t received a single text from Yoongi by the time your shift ended. You had been entirely certain the raven would be eagerly waiting the exact second you clocked out, but an hour had already passed since you’d been off. Trying to shake the growing unease, you showered and slipped into a cute little floral dress. It was a stark contrast to the workout outfit you had worn to that first so called “kickback”.

You sighed, staring down at your blank phone screen. Still, there was no call, no text. What was his issue? One minute he’s telling you how he wants to see you whenever he can, and now he was acting like he couldn't care less about the plans he had made. He couldn't possibly be upset about Jungkook, could he? How childish if he was.

A soft knock suddenly sounded at your front door.

‘Finally,’ you thought, a wave of relief washing over you. ‘Took him long enough.’

You walked into the living room and peeked through the peephole. You were fully expecting to see a familiar mess of long, dark hair, but instead, your neighbor, Hoseok, stood on the other side. You hadn't seen much of him since you found out about his history with Yoongi. Pushing down your surprise, you opened the door and greeted him. "Hoseok, hey," you smiled.

Hoseok returned the small smile, but his expression remained entirely serious. "Hey, y/n. Do you mind if I come in?" He asks. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward your bedroom where your phone sat in total silence, almost as if Yoongi might choose this exact second to call you."It won't take too long," Hoseok assured you, his voice gentle but firm, as if he had read your mind completely.

You nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter your apartment before closing it behind him. Hoseok stood there in the entryway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You had never seen him look so serious; it was actually a little scary. Whenever you ran into him around the building, Hoseok always had a bright smile on his face. Seeing Yoongi that night really seemed to have shattered his entire personality.

“So, how do you know Yoongi?" Hoseok asked abruptly.

"Uh.." You recounted the moment you had first met the raven, remembering how close you had been to stabbing Joon with a pair of chopsticks until Yoongi intervened. "I met him at my job not long ago." You rubbed your arm awkwardly, completely refusing to go into full detail.

"Do you owe him money or something? Are you safe? Is he forcing you to sleep with him?"

He was completely overwhelming you with the sudden barrage of questions. You shook your head quickly, cutting him off before he could say anything else. "Hoseok, no. I don't owe him money, and I'm fine. Yoongi and I are acquaintances, just like I told you last time. That's all."

He furrowed his eyebrows deeply. "That's all? Y/n, you're a sweet girl. I've lived across the hall from you long enough to know that. Why would you ever get into the mix with the likes of him? Do you know who he is? What he does? What he's done to people? Yoongi is dangerous."

"And you know that firsthand, don't you?" you snapped.

Hoseok froze.

"Yeah, I know you used to work for Yoongi. He told me," you continued, crossing your arms. "I also know you two were friends."

Hoseok clenched his jaw, the silence stretching tight between you. "Yeah, we were. Me, Yoongi, and Joon. We grew up together, started this shit together. But Yoongi got dark. Got money hungry. Wanted to be something more powerful. Now he's a monster... maybe he'd always been a monster deep down." Hoseok's voice trailed off, his eyes clouding over as his mind reminisced about a past he had tried so hard to leave behind. About the friend he once had.

"You said you grew up with Joon too," you countered. "He's shown me he's more of a monster than Yoongi, yet you hold more disdain for Yoongi. Why?" When you had first met Joon, he was ready to attack an old couple just for a restaurant table, and then he had turned on you for standing up to him.

Hoseok scoffed. "Because I expected this from Joon. Maybe not to this extent, but Joon was always troubled. He only started hanging out with us after Yoongi met him in juvie. And Yoongi didn't truly start getting into trouble until his parents died. He was a little shit back then, sure, but definitely not the cold hearted monster he is now."

You remembered the raven mentioning his parents to you. How they had died in a house fire after his drunk of a father left a stove burning.

You sighed. None of this truly answered why Hoseok was so fearful of Yoongi now. They had started their empire together, so Hoseok clearly hadn't had any qualms about the lifestyle back then. Why the sudden change? Curiosity burned in your chest, and you opened your mouth to ask, but before you could, your phone started to ring from the other room.

You rushed to your bedroom, snatching the device off the bed. It was Yoongi. "Is that him?" Hoseok called out from the living room. Ignoring his question, you swiped the screen and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

"I'm outside. Come down, and don't take too long," the raven demanded, his tone clipped. He hung up before you could even draw a breath to reply. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, pulling the phone away from your ear. "Listen, Hoseok, I can't sit here and talk about this right now. I have to go," you said, grabbing your purse off the nightstand.

"That was him, wasn't it?" he asked again, stepping toward your bedroom doorway. You offered no answer. "Look, I know I'm just your neighbor, and I can't tell you what to do, but I don't think you should keep hanging around him."

You shook your head, completely unready to process his warnings right now, but he remained persistent.

"Why do you care so much about what I do?" you retorted, eyeing the brunet. "Why do you care if I hang out with Yoongi?"

"Because you remind me of her."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Of her? Who's her?" Hoseok's eyes began to water, a raw pain breaking through his serious facade. "The only woman I've ever loved. She's gone... because of him. He took her just to get back at me, and he got away with it."

"What? What do you mean?"

Before Hoseok could answer, your phone buzzed violently in your hand. It was a text from Yoongi, undoubtedly urging you to hurry the hell up. "I have to go." You muttered, deliberately putting the terrifying conversation aside. You walked out to the entryway and opened your apartment door, gesturing for Hoseok to leave first.

He exited into the dimly lit corridor, but he didn't head toward his own apartment. Instead, he stood out in the hallway, his sorrowful eyes heavy upon you as you locked your door. He stared at you like this was going to be his last time seeing you. “Later, Hoseok.” You say, quickly disappearing down your hall.

The cool outside breeze brushed against your bare skin the moment you stepped out of the building. You immediately recognized Yoongi's old car parked at the curb instead of the sleek red one you two had ridden to the fair in. Walking around the hood, you opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

"Took you long enough," the raven grumbled, not even looking at you as he shifted into drive. "I don't have the patience to be kept waiting."

You grimaced at his sour attitude. The absolute nerve of him to complain about a few minutes when he had just kept you waiting for a full hour. You pulled your seatbelt across your chest and buckled it in, and the car instantly surged forward into the night. Silently, you side eyed him, taking in his outfit. He wore a simple black hoodie with dark jeans, a chain clipped to his belt loops. He was a man who clearly adored his silver; another chain hung around his neck, and a couple of silver rings on his fingers. His long, dark hair was artfully messy, framing his face.

You had been expecting the raven to compliment your dress, as he usually never missed an opportunity to praise your appearance, but he stayed entirely silent, keeping his eyes glued to the dark road. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. It was weird not hearing Yoongi speak to you. Usually, you were the one giving him the silent treatment. Clearly, he was in a mood, so you opted against mentioning a single word of what Hoseok had just told you. Though curiosity was burning a hole in your chest, you didn’t want to piss him off any further.

Still, you decided to break the silence anyway, completely detesting the suffocating quiet inside the car. “What were you up to that took you so long?” you asked.

He looked over at you, a single sharp eyebrow raised, before turning right back toward the road without offering a word.

“Okay, don’t tell me then,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, turning your back to him to stare out the passenger window. Usually, the raven would have finally broken down and said something sarcastic by now, but instead, he simply reached forward and flicked on the radio.

You whipped your head around in total shock.

“Okay,” you started, your hand immediately darting out to slap the radio knob off. “What's your deal right now? You invited me to this stupid kickback, but now you’re acting like you wish I weren’t even here. I blew off a movie night with Jungkook to come out for you, but if you’re gonna be an asshole, then just take me home.”

Yoongi finally looked over at you, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light of the car. “You blew off your little boyfriend to be with me?”

You nodded, suddenly finding your fingernails incredibly interesting. "I mean, you asked me first. I didn't want to blow you off after saying I'd come."

Yoongi smirked slightly, nodding his head as he looked back at the road. It was as if your words were a sort of confirmation for him. Suddenly, the atmosphere inside the car didn't feel so suffocating anymore. "You look good in that dress." The raven said.

You bit your bottom lip, turning away slightly in a desperate attempt to hide your smile.

The car pulled up to the warehouse that you'd come to know so well since getting involved with Yoongi. You noticed that, unlike last time, there weren't any people hanging out outside. No girls dressed in little to no clothing. No one smoking by the entrance. It was noticeably different from the last time.

"Am I gonna go upstairs and see a bunch of people in there?" you asked the raven, peeking out the window.

He snickered, turning off the ignition. "It's just Joon, some of my guys, and whatever bitches they brought. Just like I told you yesterday. Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He assures you, leaning back in his seat.

"I wish you wouldn't call women 'bitches," you said, a look of dismay crossing your features.

"My apologies, princess. I'll rephrase that; whatever whores they brought." The raven smirked, leaning across the console to catch your eye. "That better for you?"

You rolled your eyes, pushing your door open to climb out into the cool night air. Yoongi follows suit. The two of you walk up the stairs to the metal door, your mind flashing to when Yoongi had pushed you against it to give you a speech about how you speak to him. He pulls open the door, letting you walk ahead. You hear laughter and music as you walk up the stairs, and the smell of weed wafts your senses. As you reach the main room, you’re amazed by how much different it looks without the load of people blocking every which way.

"Wonder Woman, you came through again!" Joon shouted, raising a solo cup high in his hand.

He was sitting amongst the two guys you recognized from last time, along with two others you hadn't seen before. Each of them had a girl sitting either on their lap or squeezed next to them on the couch. You noticed Sana sitting among the group, though she didn't appear to be there with any specific guy. Her sharp eyes locked onto you the exact moment you walked in with Yoongi.

‘Oh great, she's here…’ you thought dreadfully. This was going to be an absolute blast.

Yoongi walked toward an empty space on the couch, dropping down and patting the cushion right next to him. You sat down beside him, deliberately avoiding Sana's gaze as she continued to stare you down. "Here, have a sip." Joon passed you his cup.

You took it, looking down at the clear alcoholic beverage sloshing inside. "What's this?" you asked him.

"It's tequila."

"Yeah, your favorite. Remember?" Sana asked from across the room, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she clearly referenced the night you had gotten drunk and danced right here in this very room.

You eyed the bitter woman, refusing to let her get under your skin. Without a word, you tipped your head back and downed the drink. The harsh liquor burned the back of your throat as it went down, but you didn't let your expression falter.

Joon hooted loudly, cheering your compliance as you handed him back the empty cup. "Oh, Y/n, you're my kind of woman, doll," Joon laughed.

"Yeah, she surely is somethin", the raven said, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You noticed them passing a blunt around the circle. Once Joon took a couple of hits, he offered it directly to you. You shook your head quickly, gesturing for him to pass it to Yoongi instead.

"Oh, c’mon, it's just weed," Joon insisted, still holding it out. “It ain’t gonna kill you.”

"That's fine. I've just never smoked it before," you said awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a complete amateur sitting in a room full of seasoned drug dealers and users.

"Of course you haven't. You're too much of a goody-goody," Sana remarked. The other girls cracked up, making a sudden wave of heat creep up your neck.

"Nothing wrong with being a good girl. A lot of us men admire that," Yoongi smirked, stepping in as he took the blunt from Joon's fingers. "Leaves room for corruption."

"I'm just scared of how it'll make me feel, that’s all." You admitted softly.

"It's like alcohol, but a different type of intoxication. Here, I'll help you." The raven shifted his weight, leaning in close as he took a long drag. Holding the smoke trapped in his lungs, he gestured with his free hand for you to move closer. You hesitated for a heartbeat, your breath catching, before leaning forward slowly. Yoongi stopped when he was mere inches away from your face, his dark gaze locking onto your mouth before he began to exhale the smoke, breathing it out little by little. Though you were skeptical, you leaned in the final inch, inhaling the gray smoke as it retreated past his lips.

A harsh cough ripped from your throat the second the smoke hit the back of your sensitive lungs. Yoongi moved back just a fraction, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he took in your reaction. "See?" he smirked, his voice dropping an octave. "Corrupting you already."

You stared at the raven, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. The two of you locked eyes, completely forgetting that there was an entire group of people watching your every move.

"Alright, alright, get a room already," Joon teased, breaking the spell you were in.

Yoongi kept his eyes firmly on you, entirely unfazed by the audience. "I wouldn't mind getting a room," he said, slowly running his tongue over his bottom lip. You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling the raven's free hand begin to roam up your exposed thigh.

You quickly stood to your feet, breaking the contact before he could go any further. "Um, I think I could use another drink. I'm assuming the bottle is in the kitchen?" you asked, pointing toward the doorway and letting out an awkward, nervous laugh.

Yoongi simply nodded, his grin turning cocky at your sudden fluster, clearly overjoyed at being the sole cause of it. You quickly shuffled away and escaped into the kitchen, feeling the anxious tightness in your chest finally begin to disperse the moment you were separated from the heavy atmosphere of the group.

Once your heartbeat finally settled, you grabbed an empty solo cup from the counter. Your eyes scanned the kitchen, landing on a bottle of Don Julio. You grabbed it, pulling the cork out with a sharp pop.

"You and Yoongi look super cozy together." The sudden voice startled you. You turned around to see Sana standing in the entryway, her arms crossed tight over her chest.

"So?" you said, turning your back to her again to pour the tequila into your cup.

"So, I thought you were very adamant about not being into him. Remember?"

You whipped back around to face her. "I'm not," you snapped, your tone sharp. "He just invited me, so I came. That's it."

It was a bold faced lie; anyone in that room could feel the electric tension between you and the raven. You tried your best to hide it, but then he went and pulled stunts like he just did on the couch, and all your defenses came crashing down. You were attracted to Yoongi. That was a fact you could no longer deny to yourself. But deep down, you knew nothing could ever come of it. You were with Jungkook.

You just hated that you had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“You can say whatever you want, convince yourself of whatever you need, but you can’t convince me,” Sana snarled, her voice dropping to a harsh, mocking tone. “I mean, I don’t blame you. He’s Min Yoongi. Out of all those guys sitting out there, he has a presence that no woman can resist. Clearly not even you, Miss Goody-Goody. I honestly can’t wait to say I told you so.”

With one last judgmental look, she turned on her heel and swept out of the entryway, leaving you completely alone in the quiet kitchen. You quickly downed the burning liquid in your cup, letting it sear your throat as you emptied every last drop before immediately pouring yourself another one. Just as the liquor splashed into the bottom of the solo cup, you heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. You turned slightly, watching the raven slide effortlessly into the kitchen.

"Slow down there, lightweight," he teased, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the sight of the bottle in your hand. "I don't need you blacking out here."

You glared at him, throwing back the second drink before slamming the cup down onto the counter. "I'm ready to leave."

"What?" The raven raised an eyebrow, his lazy grin instantly vanishing. "We just got here," he stated, pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling quite like a people person tonight," you muttered, your mind in a million different places. First, there was Jungkook saying he loved you. Then, Hoseok's chilling warning. And now Sana with her crazy jealousy, clearly nowhere near over her past with Yoongi. It was all too much. You’d rather just have been alone to process everything, but Yoongi remained persistent about you staying.

“You don’t have to be. It won’t be too long before the guys dip out to get their nut off,” the raven said, his slow grin returning. He stepped a fraction closer to you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “Then it’ll just be me and you… unless I’m included in your desire to not be around people right now?”

Naturally, you didn’t mind being around just Yoongi. He was the sole reason you had even come in the first place. But there was always a stubborn moral compass ringing inside your head, reminding you that any feelings you harbored toward the raven were wrong; a complete betrayal not only to Jungkook, but to Mina, too.

Yoongi literally sold coke to Mina's boyfriend, ruthlessly using him as one of his drug mules. Not to mention the terrifying reality that Yoongi had probably killed people, whether indirectly or by his own hands. Though, you weren't entirely sure how true that part actually was. A drug dealer? That fact was completely undeniable. But a killer? Could Yoongi truly be capable of murder? The man you had seen at the fair, the one who had looked at you with soft eyes, and shared a deep moment with you, couldn't possibly be a monster.

“Well, what about Sana?” you asked suddenly.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at the random mention of Sana. “What the fuck about her?”

"She's here. Why don't you just have her keep you company?" you scowled, turning back around to pour another drink. But before you could even pop the cork out, Yoongi snatched the bottle completely out of your hand. He didn't say a word at first, his eyes locking onto yours as he deliberately set the bottle down on the counter behind him, clearing the distraction out of the way.

“Is that where this little attitude is coming from? Sana? I thought I told you I only fucked her once.”

"I don't care how many times you did. It's none of my business," you lied, keeping your voice tight as you tried to save face. "I just thought I'd make it clear that you have other options and don't need me here."

The raven stared at you for a moment.

"When are you gonna stop pretending there's nothing here and just give in to me?" Yoongi asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur as he took another step toward you. You instinctively tried to back away from him, but the hard edge of the counter pressed against your lower back, leaving you with absolutely no space left to move.

"B-because there isn't.." you stuttered, the denial tasting like ash on your tongue.

Yoongi closed the remaining distance between you two, his hands coming down to rest on the counter on either side of your hips. You were completely sandwiched between the raven and the cold marble surface. Your heart thumped frantically against your ribs as he began to lean down toward your lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "There isn't?" he questioned, his breath fanning across your skin.

"Yo, Honcho–" Joon’s voice cut through the air as he popped his head through the entryway of the kitchen. He froze for a fraction of a second, taking in the sight of the two of you trapped in each other's space, before the corner of his lips pulled into a knowing smirk. “I always seem to pop in on you two at the craziest times,” he teased.

"What is it, Joon?" Yoongi's voice was rough, dripping with irritation at his second in command as he turned his head slightly to look at him, though his hands never left the counter, keeping you securely pinned.

"Me and the guys are gonna dip and handle our due diligence," Joon said, flashing a quick wink. It didn't take a scientist to figure out what he meant. It was exactly what Yoongi had predicted just minutes ago; they were heading out to get their nut off.

Yoongi nodded, but his full, dark attention immediately snapped back to you. "Is Sana still here?" he asked Joon, his eyes tracking the way your chest rose and fell.

"Yeah, she is. Why, what's up?"

"Send the bitch on her way," Yoongi said coldly.

"Say less," Joon complied, stepping backward out of the kitchen and leaving you and the raven completely alone once again.

You could hear his retreating footsteps heading back to the living room, followed shortly by the distant, muffled sound of him telling Sana it was time to go. "There. Problem solved, sweetheart," Yoongi said, finally taking a single step back from you, though his dark gaze never wavered. The raven reached over and grabbed the bottle of Don Julio, shaking it slightly in the air as a lazy smirk crept back onto his face. "Now it's just you and me. So, how about we drink and have a kickback of our own?"

"Then I tried to hop over the fence and my shirt got caught," Yoongi smirked, tucking a stray strand of his dark hair behind his ear as he recounted the first time he went to juvie.

The two of you were easily ten shots in by now, having moved the bottle from the kitchen to the living room couch. You were completely enveloped in a rare state of security. You sat comfortably against the cushions with your shoes discarded on the floor, your legs curled up tightly under you. Yoongi sat close beside you, leaning forward over his knees as he flicked a lighter to life, igniting another blunt.

You giggled at the raven's story, shaking your head. "Why didn't you just try to slip the shirt off?" you asked him.

"I was running for like thirty minutes trying to get away. At that point, I was too tired. I just said fuck it, take me," he chuckled. He shoved the lighter back into his sweatshirt pocket before taking a few deep puffs of the blunt, the tip glowing a dull orange in the dim room. "Anyway, shit happens for a reason. I wouldn't have met Joon if I didn't get caught that day."

Hearing him say it out loud made a piece of the puzzle click. You silently recalled Hoseok mentioning earlier that night that Yoongi and Joon had first crossed paths in juvie. You wanted to bring up Hoseok's crazy ramblings to Yoongi, but you decided it was best not to. Not now, at least. Not when the vibe between you was so perfectly calm and natural.

Yoongi looked over at you, extending his hand with the blunt pinched tightly between his index finger and thumb. "You wanna hit this?" he asked. You looked down at the brown wrap. You hesitated for a split second, but ultimately took the blunt from his fingers, your skin brushing against his.

Putting it to your lips, you took a few light, careful puffs, still too afraid to take massive hits the way Yoongi did. The raven smiled, his dark eyes watching you intensely, as if he expected you to choke if he wasn't being vigilant. "Thatta girl, princess. Shotgunned off of me once and now I got you smoking like a pro," he said proudly, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. You exhaled the smoke, then handed the blunt back to the raven.

"Don't get used to me doing that. I'm just enjoying the moment," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Yoongi shrugged, taking another slow hit from the blunt. "I'm proud either way, angel," he said.

You stiffened slightly at the nickname. You had never heard Yoongi call you that before. It was a term of endearment that belonged entirely to Jungkook. He used it all the time. Suddenly, your mind was flooded with the memory of Jungkook slipping up and saying he loved you at work earlier today, and a crushing wave of guilt washed over your chest. Here you were, hiding away and getting high with Yoongi, while Jungkook mindlessly believed you were just hanging out with Mina right now.

Yoongi's sharp eyes immediately noticed the shift, catching the exact moment you zoned out and went miles away. "You good?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face. You debated on whether or not you should tell him what Jungkook had said today. Would he even care?

"Um... Jungkook said he loved me today." You looked over at the raven, your eyes searching his face to read his expression.

Yoongi ran his fingers through his dark hair, nodding his head slowly as if absorbing the news without letting it shake him. "And then what?" he asked, his voice steady as he waited for you to continue further.

"And then... nothing," you shrugged, the weight of the confession making your shoulders feel heavy. "I said nothing when he said it. I feel so horrible." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face to shield yourself from the quiet of the room. You cared about Jungkook deeply; you had been best friends for years, and you had harbored feelings for him long before the two of you finally decided to date and test the waters. But these past few days, everything has felt entirely off between you two.

You felt... bored.

"You don't love him," Yoongi stated, his voice flat and certain, as if he personally knew your own feelings and heart better than you did.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, your chest tightening defensively. "What?"

"You don't love him," he casually repeated. He reached over to grab an empty Solo cup from the coffee table, dropping the butt of the blunt inside.

"And how the hell would you know how I feel?" you shot back, trying to summon enough anger to mask the panic rising in your throat.

"Because you're here with me," Yoongi said, leaning back against the cushions and pinning you with an intense look. "You turned down a movie night with him to spend time with me. That alone should tell you something."

You opened your mouth to defend your actions, but the words died in your throat. You couldn't. You were here with Yoongi, and the bitter, undeniable truth was that you didn't regret the decision at all.

You were genuinely enjoying these casual conversations with him. Ever since the Daegu fair, the raven had become entirely humanized in your eyes. Even though he sold drugs and carried a dangerous, mean streak to his name, you liked him.

You liked Yoongi.

The silence in the living room stretched between you, heavy and thick with the smell of smoke, as his words settled deep into your chest. Yoongi just tracked the movement of your lips, waiting, knowing he had trapped you in a corner where lies couldn't save you. So you didn’t attempt it.

You casually looked around, admiring the decor of the warehouse and searching for absolutely anything to change the suffocating topic. Your eyes landed on an all black acoustic guitar hanging neatly on the wall right next to the loft stairs. "That's a cool guitar," you said, motioning toward it.

Yoongi pulled his gaze away from you, tracking your movement until his eyes landed on the instrument. "That's my baby right there. My mom bought it for me when I was twelve," he said, a genuine, soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory of his mother.

"You play?" you questioned, a little surprised. "I thought it was just for decoration."

"Don't insult me, sweetheart. I don't do things just for the look," he rumbled playfully. He stood up from the cushions, walking over to retrieve the guitar from its mount before coming back to sit down on the couch right beside you. Yoongi began to tune the guitar, his long fingers adjusting the pegs with practiced ease. You were completely surprised he could even function with all the alcohol and weed running through his system, but the substances didn't seem to phase him even a little bit.

The raven strummed the strings to see if the tune was to his liking, the chords ringing out deep and crisp into the high ceilings of the warehouse. Then, his fingers shifted, and he began to play.

You watched him intently. He looked completely relaxed, his dark eyes focused on the fretboard as he plucked out an all too familiar melody—one that immediately made your chest tighten and your heart feel incredibly massive.

Knocking on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan.

That was your dad's favorite song.

You hadn't heard the song in so long, having avoided it at all costs ever since your parents died. Yet, here Yoongi was playing it, handling the notes as though he could read your heart like an open book. The raven looked up at you, his fingers never missing a single strum despite his eyes locking onto yours. You felt a single tear escape and slip down your cheek. A quiet movement that didn't go unnoticed by him.

Yoongi immediately stopped playing, flattening his palm over the strings to kill the vibration. "You okay? I didn't mean to make you emotional," he murmured, his voice dropping into something genuinely gentle.

You shook your head, sniffing softly as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "No, you're fine. It's just... that song you played. It reminded me of my dad, that's all. That was his favorite song," you informed him, your voice cracking slightly on the words.

A wave of sympathy softened his sharp features. He carefully set the black guitar down onto the floor, completely discarding it to move closer to you on the cushions. Reaching out, the raven gently brushed the pad of his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the stray tear. “You’re too pretty to cry,” he whispered, his thumb lingering against your skin.

Min Yoongi.

When you first met him, those eyes made you shiver. They were scary, cold, and lifeless; the devil's eyes.

Now, those exact same eyes were looking at you like you were something so precious, something so breakable that he wanted to protect you from any further damage.

The raven's lips inched closer to yours. You followed suit, your breath hitching as your eyes fluttered closed, waiting to finally feel the soft pressure of his lips against yours. When his lips finally do meet yours, it wasn’t the harsh, reckless collision you might have expected from someone like Yoongi. It was soft, slow, and desperately tender. A quiet reassurance that sent a tingle straight down your spine. The faint taste of tequila and smoke lingered between you, blurring the edges of the room until nothing else existed but the warmth of his mouth against yours.

Yoongi’s hand slid from your cheek, his long fingers gently gripping the back of your neck to hold you steady, deepening the kiss with a low, heavy breath. You melted into him, your hands finding themselves on the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as you pulled yourself closer.

Every ounce of guilt, every lingering warning from Hoseok, and the ghost of Jungkook’s confession from earlier today were entirely washed away in the dark, quiet haze of the warehouse.

You found yourself slowly being pushed backward onto the plush cushions of the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as Yoongi settled his body over yours, positioning himself flush between your legs.

Yoongi didn't break the kiss for a single second. Instead, his mouth grew hungrier, more possessive, tracing the seam of your lips as his hands left your neck to slide down to your waist, his grip firm and steady as he anchored you to the cushions beneath him. The contrast of his heavy frame pinning you down while treating you like something entirely precious made your breath hitch against his lips, your fingers tightening into the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him even closer.

The sudden loss of his warmth made you gasp softly as Yoongi pulled his lips away from yours. He remained settled heavily between your legs, his dark eyes locked onto you as he crossed his arms and pulled his sweatshirt over his head in one fluid motion. The silver chain around his neck clanked in the quiet room before settling against his collarbone.

He tossed the discarded sweatshirt onto the floor, leaving him in just a plain white tee. Yoongi paused for a second, his chest rising and falling with hefty breaths as he used a hand to push his messy dark locks back out of his face. The intense, protective gaze was still burning in his eyes, but now it was laced with an undeniable hunger. Leaning back forward, he closed the distance between you once again, crashing his lips back onto yours with a newfound fervor that completely stole the air from your lungs.

The raven rolled his hips against you, the sudden, friction filled pressure making a soft whimper escape your lips. His large hands held your waist securely to the cushions before he pulled his lips away once more, all the while still grinding slowly against you.

"I promise to be gentle with you if you let me," he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, the rough texture of his palms catching against the fabric as he began to lift your dress further. A sudden wave of nerves crashed over you at the thought, making your chest tighten. You wanted him. You desperately wanted this, but the guilt was a massive wall standing right in the way.

You had always assumed you would lose your virginity to Jungkook. It was supposed to be safe, familiar, and organically planned. But Jungkook wasn't here.

Yoongi was.

He was right here, hovering over you with a patient hunger, waiting for the words that would change everything between you two.

"Y-Yoongi, we can't. I'm with Jungko-"

The raven clamped a hand over your mouth, stopping you from finishing his name. "I don't wanna hear his fucking name right now," he growled. His hips were still grinding into you, but his pace picked up, the sudden intensity making your breath hitch beneath his palm.

The consistent, heavy motion made your panties rub against your clit, sending a tingle straight down your spine. Yoongi slowly pulled his hand away from your lips, his dark eyes burning down into yours with an absolute, possessive gravity. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop," he said, his voice a low command.

You didn't offer the raven any words, just a breathless moan that tore from your throat. A sound that was absolute music to his ears. He smirked down at how needy you looked underneath him, his ego flaring at his total control over you. How could you possibly pretend to not want this when you were coming apart already, and he hadn't even been inside of you yet?

"From the looks of it, you're so deprived that all it’Il take right now is dry fucking for you to cum," he rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, filthy purr that made your stomach completely flip. You couldn't deny it; this simple action really could be enough to cause an orgasm, but deep down, you wanted to go the extra mile with him. "Do it," you whined, your hips blindly tracking his movement as you completely lost your grip on your restraint. "J-Just do it."

That was all Yoongi needed to hear. He stopped grinding into you, pulling back to undo his jeans. He didn't take them fully off, opting instead to pull them down just enough for his hard cock to spring free from his Celine boxers. Your eyes widened slightly, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you took in the full size and length of him. He was much bigger than you had expected him to be; it was no wonder Sana had a hard time getting over him after their one night stand.

The raven hooked his fingers into the hem of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them onto the floor right next to his sweatshirt. Your dress was still bunched up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed beneath him now. You instinctively tried to close your legs to hide yourself, but with his weight still settled right between your thighs, you couldn't move.

The raven smirked down at your failed attempt to hide, his thighs easily pulling yours further apart, refusing to let you close yourself off. But as he looked down, tracking the panicked rise and fall of your chest and the way you squeezed your eyes shut tight, the smug look vanished. Seeing how scared you were dragged him back to reality, reminding him exactly what this was for you.

Your first time.

The thought alone sent a possessive rush in his veins. You weren’t like the other women he had fucked, then passed around to his crew. You were pure. Untouched. Untainted. Your walls had never been broken, and knowing he was the very first to claim you made him want to lose all control, to pin you down and slam his dick straight into you. But he fought the urge back. He was willing to take this slow. He was willing to be gentle, just like he promised. He wasn't going to force his way in. Not yet.

"Relax for me," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low purr. Bypassing his cock for now, Yoongi reached down, his long fingers finding your slick, dripping heat. He pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you gasp, before he slowly slid a single finger inside of you.

The feeling of his hot skin sliding into you sent an intense, unravelling ache straight to your core. Your inner walls clenched down around him, instantly tight and resistant to the sudden intrusion. Yoongi hissed softly at the brutal friction, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he held himself still. He didn't pull back; instead, he kept his finger buried deep inside you to let your body adapt, while the pad of his thumb began working in small, agonizingly slow circles to coax you open.

A mixture of pain and pleasure flooded your senses. You had never actually inserted anything inside of yourself before, only ever rubbing your clit when you were alone and horny, so this deep, stretching was completely overwhelming. The intensity of the feeling made it impossible to listen to his voice, let alone try to relax.

"Look at me," Yoongi growled, his voice dropping into a rough command as he noticed your breathing hitch. He pressed his thumb a little firmer against your clit, trying to ground you through the sensory overload. "I know it hurts a little, but you need to breathe for me. Let it slip in and out."

Your eyes flutter open upon his command as you try to breathe as told. Slowly, he began to curl his finger inside you, testing your limits and forcing your tight depths to widen for him. The sudden internal hook against your walls completely shattered your concentration, dragging a high, helpless whine from your throat. Your back arched slightly off the couch cushions, your hands clawing blindly into the fabric beside your head as your muscles instinctively clamped down once more around his finger.

Yoongi hissed again through his teeth, his knuckles turning white where his hand rested against the armrest behind your head. The crushing grip of your body around his finger was testing the absolute limits of his control, but he didn't back off. Instead, his gaze darkened with a relentless dominance. "I told you to breathe," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, rough and completely devoid of room for negotiation.

He leaned more of his weight over you, his lean frame crowding you down and effectively trapping you flat against the cushions. His free hand moved from the armrest to slide up the side of your neck, his thumb bracing firmly under your jaw to tilt your face up. He didn't hurt you, but the grip was ironclad, forcing your eyes right back to his.

With you completely pinned beneath him, the pad of his thumb pressed down hard against your swollen clit, no longer stroking in gentle circles, but applying a heavy, flattening pressure that sent a sudden ache straight through your pelvis. He held it there, demanding your total submission.

"Stop fighting it," he commanded, his eyes burning into yours as he tilted his finger a fraction deeper against your tight walls. "If you can’t take one finger, how’re you supposed to take this dick, huh?” His grip tightens slightly on the side of your neck. “Huh?” he repeated, demanding your answer.

“I-I’m sorry…” you stammered, embarrassment flooding your chest as the weight of his standards settled heavily over you.

Yoongi shook his head at your apology. “Don’t apologize to me, babygirl. Just take it.”

The pet name hits you like a physical shock, melting through the sharp sting of the entrance and sending a completely different kind of heat pooling between your thighs. Hearing him call you that while his frame pinned you to the couch cushions made your heart hammer against your chest. Your fingers twitched against the fabric beside your head, your body instinctively wanting to soften under the sudden warmth of his praise, even as the fullness of his finger remained buried deep inside you, awaiting your compliance.

Your breathing finally began to stutter out in a long, trembling exhale, your chest sinking as you forced yourself to yield to his command. The tense, defensive coil in your hips slowly dissolved into the cushions, allowing the walls of your core to soften and untangle around his finger.

Yoongi watched the change happen in real time, his eyes tracking the exact moment the panic left your expression and your body opened up for him. A low, approving rumble vibrated deep in his chest as the tight friction around his hand gave way to an accommodating heat. "Good girl." he murmured, his voice dropping a quiet praise that made your stomach flutter.

The raven didn't hesitate. Seizing the moment your body relaxed, he slid his thumb out from under your jaw and used his free hand to firmly spread your legs a little wider, anchoring you in place. With a smooth shift of his knuckles, he aligned a second finger against your opening and pushed it straight inside, pairing it alongside the first before immediately driving them deep.

The sudden, thick invasion turned into a heavy, rhythmic thrusting that completely took your breath away. He set a demanding pace right from the start, his wrist moving with practiced precision as his fingers slid all the way in and pulled back just enough to drive right back into your heat. A choked gasp caught in your throat as the friction of two fingers moving deep inside of you stretched your newly softened depths to their absolute limit, the steady, relentless tempo turning the initial ache into an overwhelming fullness.

“Oh fuck–” you cried, your hand mindlessly reaching out to try to grab at his wrist to stop him, but Yoongi smacked it away before you could.

“Don’t touch me,” he growled, the sharp reprimand cutting right through your haze as his fingers kept up their relentless rhythm inside you. Your hand dropped back onto the cushion, your fingers twitching helplessly against the fabric as the pace he was driving into you completely shattered your defenses. Yoongi didn't look down; his dark eyes stayed locked on your face, watching the way your lips parted and your chest heaved with every deep, sliding stroke of his hand.

The slick stretch of two fingers moving in such a demanding, unbothered tempo was turning your embarrassment into a pure, frantic need. He was stretching you out completely, filling you so thoroughly that every push of his wrist sent a hot wave of pressure straight through your hips, forcing you to take every bit of the pace he set.

The relentless, deep pace he was driving into you was rapidly breaking your body down, forcing a thick moisture to coat his skin. Within moments, the fullness of his two fingers began to pump your arousal out, the glossy wetness overflowing your tight opening until it completely drenched his fingers and smeared across the back of his hand.

Yoongi let out a low, gritty sound at the wet squelch of his movements echoing in the quiet room as his knuckles repeatedly pressed against your drenched entrance. The messy, excessive warmth of your own body coating his hand only seemed to make him get rougher, using your own lubrication to drive his fingers even deeper, thoroughly stretching you out until you were dripping against his skin with every single stroke.

The raven’s dark eyes narrowed as he tracked the erratic shudder of your chest, his fingers still ruthlessly working inside you to draw out every drop of your wetness. The sight of you completely undone, trembling on the verge of a breakdown, stripped away the last of his patience.

He abruptly stopped the rhythm, leaving his fingers buried deep and perfectly still inside your swollen depths. The sudden lack of movement was an absolute tease, leaving you stranded on the very edge of a cliff.

He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he forced his weight heavily over you.“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded, his voice a deep command that left no room for hesitation. “Say it.”

A high, dire whine broke from your throat at the sudden agonizing stillness, your hips instinctively jerking upward in a silent, pathetic plea for him to keep moving. The tease was unbearable; your body was wound so incredibly tight, practically begging for the release he was intentionally withholding from you.

Yoongi didn't budge an inch. He simply let out a dark, amused huff against your ear, his fingers remained buried like lead inside your dripping pussy. "I didn't ask for a whine," he rasped, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline to tilt your head back just enough to look at him. "I asked for words. Tell me you want me to fuck you." He repeated the command.

“I–I… I want you fuck me.” You stutter out.

"Good girl," he growled the praise against your ear as he finally withdrew his fingers from your drenched warmth.

The sudden emptiness left you cold for only a second before the weight of his front pressed completely over you, pinning you flat into the couch. He didn't waste another moment. His hand reached down between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock directly against your swollen opening, smearing your own excess wetness along the head.

He didn't ease into it. With one fluid, commanding thrust of his hips, Yoongi buried himself all the way inside of you, driving deep until his pelvis smacked hard against yours.

Your breath cut off completely, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your fingers clawed desperately into the fabric of his shirt. Your gaze, already locked wide onto his, turned instantly glassy as his sheer thickness stretched you open to an impossible limit, filling you so completely it made your head spin.

“Fuck—” The raven grunted, his upper body hovering over you as he went completely rigid, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

He stayed entirely still, his muscles locked as he forced himself to hold back and let your body adjust to his size. The utter stretch of him filling you to the absolute brim made your hips tremble against the cushions, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches beneath his heavy frame.

Every muscle in his back was corded with strain, his pulse hammering heavily where his chest pressed against yours. He took a slow, deep breath, waiting out the initial shock of the fit, though the tight, desperate clench of your walls around his cock was clearly pushing his self control over the edge.

The moment the clenching of your walls finally eased into a welcoming squeeze, Yoongi let out a satisfied groan. He didn't give you a second to recover. Pulling back just enough to catch his leverage, he drove his hips forward, initiating a hard, deliberate rhythm that completely altered the gravity of the room. The slow, punishing depth of his first few strokes was consuming; he slid almost entirely out before sinking all the way back in, bottoming out against you with a wet, heavy thud that rattled the breath right out of your lungs.

He growled, his hands locking firmly on your hips to keep you pinned into the cushions as his pace began to quicken. "Fuck, your pussy feels so good. Just like I imagined."

The steady, intense heat of his body against yours quickly became a relentless blur as his speed increased. The contact was rougher now, the coarse denim of his jeans and the fabric of his boxers scraping against your inner thighs with every aggressive plunge.

The sound of his skin and denim slapping against you echoed loud in the room, driving home the raw, bruising pace he was establishing. With every powerful thrust, his pelvis collided hard against your hips, the tight fullness stretching you so completely that a series of needy, high pitched moans broke from your throat. Because it was your first time, the sheer magnitude of the sensation was almost too much to process; every single movement sent a wave of sweet ache straight through your body, a deep tightness that was simultaneously agonizing and intoxicating as he broke you in.

Yoongi’s gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and entirely focused as he hovered over you. As his upper body leaned in closer to deepen the angle, the chain around his neck swung free. “God, you’re so pretty.” He breathed out. “The best pussy I’ve ever fucking had.”

“Y-Yoongi…” you moaned, your hands balling up the fabric of his shirt tightly. The raven flashed his gummy smile at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. It was something he could listen to over and over again.

“Fuck… say my name again.”

"Y-Yoongi..." you cried out again, your voice completely breaking as your eyes fluttered closed, your mind dissolving under the weight of pleasure, until the sudden sharp, stinging sensation of his fingers gently smacked your cheek, snapping your eyes back open.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice growing incredibly rough and strained as his pace became frantic. "I want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He panted, undoubtedly coming close to his end. You were close as well, feeling an intense feeling build up in your stomach.

"Look at how wet you are for me," he rasped, his dirty talk turning completely unfiltered as he felt the contractions of your walls tightening around him. He drove into you harder, faster. "You're taking every single inch of me."

Your vision blurred at the edges as that coiled heat in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. Every touch felt magnified a hundred times over because it was him, because it was your first time, and the vulnerability of being completely pinned beneath his weight had your mind spinning out of control.

Yoongi let out a low, breathless laugh, his hips stuttering as the deep squelch of your pussy and his thrusts echoed loudly. "Fuck, look what we did," he groaned, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction as he looked down at where your bodies met. "You completely soaked the couch underneath us, baby. You're dripping all over the cushions for me."

Hearing those words sent a heavy wave of heat straight to your face, a mix of intense shyness and absolute surrender that made you squeeze him even tighter.

"Y-Yoongi, I'm gonna..." you cried out, your fingers letting go of his shirt so you could wrap your arms securely around his neck, pulling him down against you. Your hips bucked up instinctively against his, completely consumed by the pressure. "I'm about to cum..."

His dark eyes flared with desperation, his pace turning completely frantic at your admission. Strands of his damp, raven hair fell completely into his face, clinging to his sweaty forehead and obscuring his vision, but he didn't even try to brush them away as he stared down at you through the dark fringe. He slid his arms beneath your back, wrapping them tightly around you and locking you in an embrace that left no space between your chests.

"Me too, baby, fuck, I'm right there with you," he panted out, his voice entirely undone.

He bottomed out hard, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with completely blown out eyes, caught instantly as the coiled tension in your stomach snapped. “Oh god, fuck!” You scream aloud. An explosive, blinding wave of release crashed through you, your walls clamping down on him in tight, frantic pulses.

"I wanna watch my cum dripping out of this tight little pussy when I'm done with you." Yoongi growled, his grip tightening around you as the muscles in his back locked up, your climax triggering his own.With a final, deep thrust, Yoongi threw his head back, his dark hair tossing wildly away from his face. A loud, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came heavily inside you, his entire frame shuddering violently within your embrace as he poured himself into your tightness, locking you both into the shared, breathless aftershocks of the peak.

The violent shuddering of his body slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of your shared, ragged breathing filling the quiet room. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Yoongi remained buried deep inside you, his heavy frame completely draped over yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his chest heaved against your breasts.

The tight grip of his arms around your back gradually softened, his hands now simply resting against the fabric of your dress, tracing comforting circles into your waist through the material. You could feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat right against your ribs, slowly syncing up with your own.

With a low, exhausted grunt, Yoongi shifted his weight, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at you, careful not to crush you on the narrow cushions. Strands of his damp, raven hair were still stuck to his forehead, framing eyes that were dark, heavy lidded, and utterly soft. The intimidating intensity from moments before was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, protective warmth.

"You okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly deep from the groans he’d just let out. He raised one hand, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, his touch entirely tender.

“Mhm..” You nod breathlessly, your body feeling liquefied, a pleasant ache settling deep into you.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at where your bodies were still joined beneath the bunched up layers of your dress. True to his word, as he slowly and carefully began to pull himself out of your slick cunt, a thick, white stream of his release mixed with your own, dripping out of you and pooling onto the already damp fabric of the couch cushions beneath your hips.

"Look at that," Yoongi whispered, a low rumble of dark satisfaction vibrating in his chest as he stared at the messy sight. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the salt of your skin. “You did so fucking good for your first time, baby." He praises you.

The raven collapsed back down onto you, shifting his legs so they tangled thoroughly with yours on the snug space of the couch. He tucked his face right back into your neck, wrapping his arms securely around your torso to anchor you against his chest. He didn't care about the state of his slid down jeans or the dampness of your dress; he just wanted to hold you against him as the adrenaline finally began to fade and he began to fall asleep.

Your mind was a chaotic tangle of thoughts you couldn't quite straighten out. The reality of what just happened was crashing down in waves. You had just lost your virginity. And it wasn't just to anyone; it was to Yoongi, the last person you ever expected to be in this position with.

But beneath that realization lay the heaviest weight of all; Jungkook.

The thought of his name sent a sharp, confusing pang straight through your chest. You had cheated. The word felt ugly, completely incompatible with the hazy, warm weight of Yoongi resting on top of you, yet it was undeniably there. Did you regret it? The alcohol and smoke clouded your brain too much to give you a straight answer. There was no clarity to be found right now, no easy wave of guilt or sudden rush of justification. There was no going back from this. No fixing it, no pretending it was a mistake born purely out of a messy night. The moment you had agreed to come to Yoongi’s warehouse, the trajectory of everything had shifted.

All you knew for certain, as you stared blankly into the dimly lit room with Yoongi’s heartbeat thumping steady against your ribs, was that everything was about to change.

Taglist

Jungkook sighed, his lip ring clanking against his teeth as he pulled his bottom lip inward. “Can we talk inside? I really don’t wanna do this in your hallway.” He pleaded. Jungkook was never truly the confrontational type, which contradicted you because you in fact were the confrontational type.

You huffed, brushing past him to unlock your apartment door. Once both of you were inside, you shut the door firmly. Jungkook immediately walked to your couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside him as an invitation for you to sit. You hesitated for a brief moment before giving in, placing your plushy and purse on the table.

You sat beside him, hands clasped tightly in your lap, avoiding eye contact. The tension in the silence was thick. “So... why weren't you at work today? It's not like you to miss a shift.” he finally started. You fiddled with your fingers, scrambling for an excuse for your absence. “I….umm… went to the Daegu fair,” you admitted, only fabricating the truth just a tad. "With Mina."

Jungkook tilted his head, a frown forming his lips. "You did a no-call, no-show to go to the Daegu fair? What were you thinking?" he asked, ready to lecture you. You certainly weren't in the mood to hear it, especially from him. Not now. It felt like he was deliberately trying to pivot away from the real issue at hand; your relationship and his cold, dead silence.

"I was thinking I wanted to have some fun, and not sit at work wondering why the man I care about ghosted me for two days." you snapped. This brought the brunet down a notch, making him exhale heavily. The room fell silent once again, but not for very long. "Look, I'm sorry," Jungkook said. "It's just... we've been best friends since we were kids and–"

“And you still only see me as that." You cut him off.

"No," he countered sternly. "What we have is special because of our history. We got to be best friends before having a romantic connection, which is rare. You're not like any girl I've dated. You’re much more to me. I don't want to mess this up. I don't wanna lose you. I can't. The thought terrifies me because I’m losing more than my girl, I’m losing my best friend too,"

Your eyes finally connected with his, your demeanor softening at his words. "I want our first time to be special," he continued. "I don't want it to be random sex like I’m used to. I want your first experience to be your best experience.”

You sighed, nodding your head. "You're right. It should be special..." you replied. You understood Jungkook's view; it was sweet, and it showed just how much he truly valued you. You appreciated his sentiment, but you were still frustrated. Sexually frustrated. You were ready for more. It was easy for Jungkook to sideline sex when he’d been having it since high school. Meanwhile, you, the innocent virgin, had spent all this time waiting for your first crush to choose you. Now that he finally has, the reward feels slightly lackluster.

"I'm sorry," you finally said. You weren't entirely sure if you meant it, but for now, you just wanted to put the drama behind you. Jungkook smiled, taking your hands in his, and you gladly let him. "I missed you," he said. "It doesn't feel right not talking to you every day."

You returned a genuine smile. "The feeling is mutual. But if you ever ghost me again, prepare for me to come to the tattoo shop with a vengeance." You playfully squinted your eyes at him.

Jungkook chuckled, nodding his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He says. After a moment of silence the brunet’s eyes flicked behind you, catching sight of the new plush toy sitting on top of the table. “Nice plushie,” he smirked, knowing all too well how much you loved anything Hello Kitty related. “Guess you and Mina had a good time at the fair, huh?”

You followed his gaze to the plushie. “Yeah… surprisingly, I did.” You chewed on your bottom lip, your mind suddenly miles away, fixed on the raven.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up today after ditching without a call," Jimin said, a smirk plastered on his face as he stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of water. "The old man's gonna have a field day." He was joking, but there was truth to it.

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. You knew a lecture was coming, along with an endless amount of dish and bathroom duty. Possibly even termination. Mr. Kim hated when staff called in, but he especially loathed it when they didn’t.

"I’m nervous as it is," you said. "Did Mr. Kim say anything to you about me?"

"To me? No," Jimin replied, setting the glasses down at the table he was waiting on. "But you know how he is about punctuality. No exceptions."

You rubbed the nape of your neck and slowly shuffled toward the back of the kitchen to meet your doom.

“Good luck!” Jimin teased.

God, what would you do if you lost your job at Makoto? The job market was brutal right now, and finding new employment wouldn’t be easy. You were terrified of the domino effect that would follow.

Mr. Kim noticed you immediately upon entering the kitchen, but to your surprise, he only nodded in your direction. "Good evening, y/n. Glad to see you came in today," he said calmly before dusting his hands on his apron. “Hurry up and clock in, Jimin could use some assistance out there.”

Your eyebrows scrunched. ‘That’s it? No yelling? No speech? What's his angle?’ you wondered hesitantly.

“O-oh, uh… of course…” you stammered. You grabbed your time card and swiped it through the clock. You glanced back at Mr. Kim, who handled the orders just as he did on any other day. But today shouldn’t have been like ‘any other day’. It should have been a day of reckoning for ditching work yesterday, yet Mr. Kim didn’t even seem to care. You decided that you would just rip the bandage off and bring it up yourself.

"Hey, Mr. Kim, about not calling in yesterday…" you started, but the old man instantly cut you off.

"Don't worry about it, kid! It happens." He said, quickly dismissing the conversation.

You stood stunned. This was certainly unlike your boss. Mr. Kim could be kind when he wanted to be, but when it came to work, he was a stickler for the rules. As Jimin had said, there were no exceptions.

You wondered what could have made him so nonchalant about a no-call, no-show, until suddenly, Yoongi's voice flashed through your mind.

"Don't stress about that, princess. I'II deal with your boss after the fact."

Could it be that Yoongi had actually followed through? It was the only explanation for Mr. Kim's uncharacteristic behavior. Even though the raven had said he’d handle it, you hadn’t honestly believed him. You didn’t think Yoongi could actually hold that kind of power over someone as headstrong as Mr. Kim. It left you wondering what else, exactly, that man could control.

Nevertheless, you smiled slightly to yourself, knowing he had used that power to keep your job intact. You grabbed an apron from the hook, along with a notepad and pen, preparing to head out to the floor. Just then, Jimin walked in, his expression uneasy. “What’s your problem?” You ask him, an eyebrow perched.

"T-table three wants you to take their order instead of me," the brunet said.

You didn't even need to question why; his unease told you exactly who was sitting at table three. You nodded, tying your apron around your waist. Jimin exchanged a look with Mr. Kim behind you before you headed out to the dining floor. To your lack of surprise, there sat Yoongi and Joon across from each other. You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, a small smile trying to peek through.

"There's my favorite waitress," the raven smiled as you approached. His left arm rested casually on the back of his chair.

You squinted at him, folding your arms across your chest. "Looks like someone’s too anxious to wait until tonight," you stated.

Yoongi shrugged. “What can I say? You make me feel like I’ve got a school crush. I want to see you whenever I can.” He smirked, biting down on his bottom lip.

You rolled your eyes, but inside, butterflies were already beginning to flutter. “Are you two here to order, or are you just here to cause trouble?” you asked, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want to look like you actually enjoyed Yoongi’s presence, not with Jimin lurking nearby. He had a big mouth, and before you knew it, Jungkook and Mina would find out that there was something unspoken forming between you and Yoongi.

“I don’t know about the boss man here, but I could go for some Jjajangmyeon and a cool bottle of soju. Don’t bring me any of that warm shit,” Joon said.

You eyed the lanky man. “We don’t serve alcohol here,” you stated dryly.

“Well, that’s a fucking buzzkill. What do y’all serve here?”

“You can try looking at the menu in front of you.” You snarked. You couldn’t help the smart remarks when it came to Joon. He simply rubbed you the wrong way, Yoongi’s right-hand man or not. You didn’t like him.

Joon smirked, your snarkiness having no bearing on him. “Someone’s testy today. This isn’t very good customer service,” he joked, though he picked up the menu nonetheless. He scanned through the drink section before closing it. “I’ll take a cola,” he said.

You wrote down his order, then turned to Yoongi, who seemingly hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. “And you?”you questioned the raven.

“I’ll take some water, sweetheart.” The raven said.

You nodded, not needing to write it down. As you collected their menus from the table, you hesitated. “Hey, um…” you started, keeping your voice low. “Thanks for actually talking to my boss. You seriously saved me from getting fired.”

Yoongi tilted his head slightly. “You said ‘actually’ as though you had no faith in my word. You didn’t think I’d talk to your boss?” he questioned.

“You want me to be honest?”

“That’s all I ever want you to be with me, sweetheart.”

“Okay then,” you nodded, keeping your voice hushed so you wouldn't be overheard. “No. I didn’t think you’d talk to my boss. I thought it was just a little lie you told to get me to come with you yesterday.”

The raven smirked at your doubt. “One thing you need to learn about me, princess, is that my word is bond. When I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.” He held his smirk, but there was something beneath it now, something entirely serious. Dangerous, even.

And you liked it. Shamefully.

"Noted," you said, your gaze locked with his dark, intense eyes. Before the moment could stretch any further, the bell above the front door chimed, snapping you back to reality. "'I’ll be right with you-" The customer service voice died in your throat. You froze as you turned around, coming face to face with a familiar brunet.

"J-Jungkook?" You stuttered. “What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook's smile vanished as he looked past you, spotting Yoongi sitting there. He squinted, a hard edge replacing his previously soft expression. "I'm on my break... thought I'd come in to see you." His eyes remained glued to the raven. "What the hell is he doing here?"

You looked back at Yoongi, his eyes dark and intimidating as they always were, his glare on Jungkook vicious. "They're, uh... ordering food," you said. You could feel people in the restaurant starting to stare, Jimin included.

"I think they need to order food somewhere else," Jungkook spat, his gaze hardening on Yoongi.

"Is that right?" The raven finally spoke, his voice dangerously monotone.

"You trying to start somethin', chief?" Joon chimed in, shifting in his seat, fully prepared to back Yoongi. “Because we don’t have a problem sending you out on a stretcher.”

You shivered at those words. Knowing there was no way this situation would end well for Jungkook, you quickly stepped in. Grabbing the bushy haired man by the arm, you pushed him away from their table and steered him toward an empty one across the restaurant."Are you trying to get yourself jumped?" you asked, keeping your voice low as you questioned the brunet.

Jungkook scoffed. "I'm not scared of those pussies like everyone else. Especially when it comes to you." He finally pulled his gaze away from their table and onto you. "You okay? Is he still harassing you?" he asked.

You sighed. You understood Jungkook's frustration with seeing Yoongi. After everything you had told him about your first encounter with the raven, plus his murdered friend having some type of connection to him, you could imagine why he was so bold.

"They're really just here to eat, and no matter how much disdain I have for someone, I still have to act on a professional level while at work. I don't think fighting helps my case."

The brunet ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. "You're right. I'm sorry," he apologized, his hand reaching out to gently rub your arm.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Just sit down and order something. You came here for me, right?" You smiled, hoping that would bring his mood back up. The brunet grinned back, unable to stay angry when you were in his presence. "Right," he agreed, taking a seat at the table you had escorted him to."My focus is on you, beautiful." He placed a hand on your hip.

You could feel the cold stare burning into your back, the raven glaring daggers in your direction.You didn't bother to look back as you kept your attention on Jungkook.

"Hey, waitress," Yoongi's voice suddenly chimed behind you. You turned around. "Is this how your boss runs his establishment? How about instead of fucking around with your little boyfriend, you get us our orders?" There was venom in his voice when he spat the word “boyfriend”. Of course, no one could spot it except you– and maybe Joon. You scowled at the raven for calling you out so loudly.

"Hey," Jimin whispered, quickly walking up to Jungkook's table. He nudged your shoulder. "You take care of their orders, and I'll take Jungkook's. I don't wanna know what those guys will do if they have to wait any longer."

You complied, not wanting to take that chance and find out either. Leaving Jimin to handle Jungkook, you headed back into the kitchen and ripped the order from your notepad to hook it onto the ticket line. "The hell is going on out there?" Mr. Kim asked, frowning.

"Nothing anymore. Jimin and I have it under control," you assured him as you grabbed two cups from the dish shelf. Moving toward the beverage station, you filled both cups with ice before pouring their respective drinks. You marched back out to the dining room and set the cups down on Yoongi's table. "Satisfied?" you asked the raven.

"Not nearly," he grimaced. "What would satisfy me right now would leave you devastated, sweetheart." His voice was calm, but his words were dark. You chose not to push, truly not wanting to know what he meant by that. "Your food should be out shortly," you said to Joon, deliberately avoiding the raven’s eyes.

You turned around, leaving Yoongi and Joon alone at their table. Spotting Jungkook waving you over, you walked up to the grinning brunet with a playful sigh. “Yes, trouble?” you asked. He rolled his eyes at the newfound nickname. “I was thinking… How about a movie night tonight? I think we’re overdue for one.” he suggested. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You mean a repeat of last time? Because unless my memory is failing me, that was an absolute disaster.”

"Yeah, well, this time will be different. After our talk last night, I'm hoping we both have a better understanding of our feelings," he said, taking your hand in his. You tilted your head, biting the inside of your cheek. Even if you did want to give in to his movie night plan, you couldn't. You already had plans with a certain black haired man tonight.

"You know, I'd love to, but I already made plans with Mina tonight,” you lied, offering a convincing smile. "She wants us to have a whole girls' night in. Makeup, nails, talking about our relationships. The whole works."

Jungkook pouted. "First the fair, now a girls' night? I'm beginning to think Mina is stealing my girl." He joked.

You giggled, rolling your eyes at the brunet. "Don't be so dramatic," you said. "We always have tomorrow night."

“Fine,” Jungkook relented, tossing a look of fake defeat your way. “I didn't wanna watch your cheesy movies tonight anyway.”

You gasped, slapping a hand over your heart as if deeply offended. “You love my cheesy movies.”

"No, I love you. There's a difference," Jungkook said.

The words hung heavily in the air between you, and you instantly froze. The words echoed in your mind, catching you entirely off guard. Jungkook had never confessed his feelings so plainly before. You had a lifetime of history together as best friends, but hearing him say those words out loud changed everything in an instant. You stared at him, speechless. Realizing exactly what he had just admitted, Jungkook's eyes widened, and a dark blush rapidly overtook his face.

"S-so tomorrow night?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scratched the nape of his neck in pure embarrassment.

"Uh-yeah... yeah... see you tomorrow night," you stuttered, your voice trailing off.

You had absolutely no idea how to respond, and your only saving grace was a nearby customer waving you over to request their bill. Seizing the lifeline, you quickly retreated to their table and left Jungkook alone with his thoughts. The moment your back was turned, the brunet squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands as he cussed quietly to himself.

You grabbed the customer's card from the table and turned to go swipe it at the kiosk, but before you could move any further, you noticed Yoongi and Joon preparing to leave. You furrowed your brows; Joon's food hadn't even been served yet. "Um... hello? Did you forget you ordered food?" you questioned the lanky man as they walked past you.

Yoongi didn't say a word, his expression unreadable as he moved toward the exit.

"I think I'll pass on the ramen, Wonder Woman. The atmosphere in this joint kinda makes me sick," Joon said.

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue as you watched them head for the door, but they didn't leave without throwing one last vicious glare at Jungkook. Jungkook, of course, glared right back.

"See ya around, chief," Joon scowled in his direction before they finally walked out into the street.

You hadn’t received a single text from Yoongi by the time your shift ended. You had been entirely certain the raven would be eagerly waiting the exact second you clocked out, but an hour had already passed since you’d been off. Trying to shake the growing unease, you showered and slipped into a cute little floral dress. It was a stark contrast to the workout outfit you had worn to that first so called “kickback”.

You sighed, staring down at your blank phone screen. Still, there was no call, no text. What was his issue? One minute he’s telling you how he wants to see you whenever he can, and now he was acting like he couldn't care less about the plans he had made. He couldn't possibly be upset about Jungkook, could he? How childish if he was.

A soft knock suddenly sounded at your front door.

‘Finally,’ you thought, a wave of relief washing over you. ‘Took him long enough.’

You walked into the living room and peeked through the peephole. You were fully expecting to see a familiar mess of long, dark hair, but instead, your neighbor, Hoseok, stood on the other side. You hadn't seen much of him since you found out about his history with Yoongi. Pushing down your surprise, you opened the door and greeted him. "Hoseok, hey," you smiled.

Hoseok returned the small smile, but his expression remained entirely serious. "Hey, y/n. Do you mind if I come in?" He asks. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward your bedroom where your phone sat in total silence, almost as if Yoongi might choose this exact second to call you."It won't take too long," Hoseok assured you, his voice gentle but firm, as if he had read your mind completely.

You nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter your apartment before closing it behind him. Hoseok stood there in the entryway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You had never seen him look so serious; it was actually a little scary. Whenever you ran into him around the building, Hoseok always had a bright smile on his face. Seeing Yoongi that night really seemed to have shattered his entire personality.

“So, how do you know Yoongi?" Hoseok asked abruptly.

"Uh.." You recounted the moment you had first met the raven, remembering how close you had been to stabbing Joon with a pair of chopsticks until Yoongi intervened. "I met him at my job not long ago." You rubbed your arm awkwardly, completely refusing to go into full detail.

"Do you owe him money or something? Are you safe? Is he forcing you to sleep with him?"

He was completely overwhelming you with the sudden barrage of questions. You shook your head quickly, cutting him off before he could say anything else. "Hoseok, no. I don't owe him money, and I'm fine. Yoongi and I are acquaintances, just like I told you last time. That's all."

He furrowed his eyebrows deeply. "That's all? Y/n, you're a sweet girl. I've lived across the hall from you long enough to know that. Why would you ever get into the mix with the likes of him? Do you know who he is? What he does? What he's done to people? Yoongi is dangerous."

"And you know that firsthand, don't you?" you snapped.

Hoseok froze.

"Yeah, I know you used to work for Yoongi. He told me," you continued, crossing your arms. "I also know you two were friends."

Hoseok clenched his jaw, the silence stretching tight between you. "Yeah, we were. Me, Yoongi, and Joon. We grew up together, started this shit together. But Yoongi got dark. Got money hungry. Wanted to be something more powerful. Now he's a monster... maybe he'd always been a monster deep down." Hoseok's voice trailed off, his eyes clouding over as his mind reminisced about a past he had tried so hard to leave behind. About the friend he once had.

"You said you grew up with Joon too," you countered. "He's shown me he's more of a monster than Yoongi, yet you hold more disdain for Yoongi. Why?" When you had first met Joon, he was ready to attack an old couple just for a restaurant table, and then he had turned on you for standing up to him.

Hoseok scoffed. "Because I expected this from Joon. Maybe not to this extent, but Joon was always troubled. He only started hanging out with us after Yoongi met him in juvie. And Yoongi didn't truly start getting into trouble until his parents died. He was a little shit back then, sure, but definitely not the cold hearted monster he is now."

You remembered the raven mentioning his parents to you. How they had died in a house fire after his drunk of a father left a stove burning.

You sighed. None of this truly answered why Hoseok was so fearful of Yoongi now. They had started their empire together, so Hoseok clearly hadn't had any qualms about the lifestyle back then. Why the sudden change? Curiosity burned in your chest, and you opened your mouth to ask, but before you could, your phone started to ring from the other room.

You rushed to your bedroom, snatching the device off the bed. It was Yoongi. "Is that him?" Hoseok called out from the living room. Ignoring his question, you swiped the screen and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

"I'm outside. Come down, and don't take too long," the raven demanded, his tone clipped. He hung up before you could even draw a breath to reply. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, pulling the phone away from your ear. "Listen, Hoseok, I can't sit here and talk about this right now. I have to go," you said, grabbing your purse off the nightstand.

"That was him, wasn't it?" he asked again, stepping toward your bedroom doorway. You offered no answer. "Look, I know I'm just your neighbor, and I can't tell you what to do, but I don't think you should keep hanging around him."

You shook your head, completely unready to process his warnings right now, but he remained persistent.

"Why do you care so much about what I do?" you retorted, eyeing the brunet. "Why do you care if I hang out with Yoongi?"

"Because you remind me of her."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Of her? Who's her?" Hoseok's eyes began to water, a raw pain breaking through his serious facade. "The only woman I've ever loved. She's gone... because of him. He took her just to get back at me, and he got away with it."

"What? What do you mean?"

Before Hoseok could answer, your phone buzzed violently in your hand. It was a text from Yoongi, undoubtedly urging you to hurry the hell up. "I have to go." You muttered, deliberately putting the terrifying conversation aside. You walked out to the entryway and opened your apartment door, gesturing for Hoseok to leave first.

He exited into the dimly lit corridor, but he didn't head toward his own apartment. Instead, he stood out in the hallway, his sorrowful eyes heavy upon you as you locked your door. He stared at you like this was going to be his last time seeing you. “Later, Hoseok.” You say, quickly disappearing down your hall.

The cool outside breeze brushed against your bare skin the moment you stepped out of the building. You immediately recognized Yoongi's old car parked at the curb instead of the sleek red one you two had ridden to the fair in. Walking around the hood, you opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

"Took you long enough," the raven grumbled, not even looking at you as he shifted into drive. "I don't have the patience to be kept waiting."

You grimaced at his sour attitude. The absolute nerve of him to complain about a few minutes when he had just kept you waiting for a full hour. You pulled your seatbelt across your chest and buckled it in, and the car instantly surged forward into the night. Silently, you side eyed him, taking in his outfit. He wore a simple black hoodie with dark jeans, a chain clipped to his belt loops. He was a man who clearly adored his silver; another chain hung around his neck, and a couple of silver rings on his fingers. His long, dark hair was artfully messy, framing his face.

You had been expecting the raven to compliment your dress, as he usually never missed an opportunity to praise your appearance, but he stayed entirely silent, keeping his eyes glued to the dark road. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. It was weird not hearing Yoongi speak to you. Usually, you were the one giving him the silent treatment. Clearly, he was in a mood, so you opted against mentioning a single word of what Hoseok had just told you. Though curiosity was burning a hole in your chest, you didn’t want to piss him off any further.

Still, you decided to break the silence anyway, completely detesting the suffocating quiet inside the car. “What were you up to that took you so long?” you asked.

He looked over at you, a single sharp eyebrow raised, before turning right back toward the road without offering a word.

“Okay, don’t tell me then,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, turning your back to him to stare out the passenger window. Usually, the raven would have finally broken down and said something sarcastic by now, but instead, he simply reached forward and flicked on the radio.

You whipped your head around in total shock.

“Okay,” you started, your hand immediately darting out to slap the radio knob off. “What's your deal right now? You invited me to this stupid kickback, but now you’re acting like you wish I weren’t even here. I blew off a movie night with Jungkook to come out for you, but if you’re gonna be an asshole, then just take me home.”

Yoongi finally looked over at you, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light of the car. “You blew off your little boyfriend to be with me?”

You nodded, suddenly finding your fingernails incredibly interesting. "I mean, you asked me first. I didn't want to blow you off after saying I'd come."

Yoongi smirked slightly, nodding his head as he looked back at the road. It was as if your words were a sort of confirmation for him. Suddenly, the atmosphere inside the car didn't feel so suffocating anymore. "You look good in that dress." The raven said.

You bit your bottom lip, turning away slightly in a desperate attempt to hide your smile.

The car pulled up to the warehouse that you'd come to know so well since getting involved with Yoongi. You noticed that, unlike last time, there weren't any people hanging out outside. No girls dressed in little to no clothing. No one smoking by the entrance. It was noticeably different from the last time.

"Am I gonna go upstairs and see a bunch of people in there?" you asked the raven, peeking out the window.

He snickered, turning off the ignition. "It's just Joon, some of my guys, and whatever bitches they brought. Just like I told you yesterday. Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He assures you, leaning back in his seat.

"I wish you wouldn't call women 'bitches," you said, a look of dismay crossing your features.

"My apologies, princess. I'll rephrase that; whatever whores they brought." The raven smirked, leaning across the console to catch your eye. "That better for you?"

You rolled your eyes, pushing your door open to climb out into the cool night air. Yoongi follows suit. The two of you walk up the stairs to the metal door, your mind flashing to when Yoongi had pushed you against it to give you a speech about how you speak to him. He pulls open the door, letting you walk ahead. You hear laughter and music as you walk up the stairs, and the smell of weed wafts your senses. As you reach the main room, you’re amazed by how much different it looks without the load of people blocking every which way.

"Wonder Woman, you came through again!" Joon shouted, raising a solo cup high in his hand.

He was sitting amongst the two guys you recognized from last time, along with two others you hadn't seen before. Each of them had a girl sitting either on their lap or squeezed next to them on the couch. You noticed Sana sitting among the group, though she didn't appear to be there with any specific guy. Her sharp eyes locked onto you the exact moment you walked in with Yoongi.

‘Oh great, she's here…’ you thought dreadfully. This was going to be an absolute blast.

Yoongi walked toward an empty space on the couch, dropping down and patting the cushion right next to him. You sat down beside him, deliberately avoiding Sana's gaze as she continued to stare you down. "Here, have a sip." Joon passed you his cup.

You took it, looking down at the clear alcoholic beverage sloshing inside. "What's this?" you asked him.

"It's tequila."

"Yeah, your favorite. Remember?" Sana asked from across the room, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she clearly referenced the night you had gotten drunk and danced right here in this very room.

You eyed the bitter woman, refusing to let her get under your skin. Without a word, you tipped your head back and downed the drink. The harsh liquor burned the back of your throat as it went down, but you didn't let your expression falter.

Joon hooted loudly, cheering your compliance as you handed him back the empty cup. "Oh, Y/n, you're my kind of woman, doll," Joon laughed.

"Yeah, she surely is somethin", the raven said, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You noticed them passing a blunt around the circle. Once Joon took a couple of hits, he offered it directly to you. You shook your head quickly, gesturing for him to pass it to Yoongi instead.

"Oh, c’mon, it's just weed," Joon insisted, still holding it out. “It ain’t gonna kill you.”

"That's fine. I've just never smoked it before," you said awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a complete amateur sitting in a room full of seasoned drug dealers and users.

"Of course you haven't. You're too much of a goody-goody," Sana remarked. The other girls cracked up, making a sudden wave of heat creep up your neck.

"Nothing wrong with being a good girl. A lot of us men admire that," Yoongi smirked, stepping in as he took the blunt from Joon's fingers. "Leaves room for corruption."

"I'm just scared of how it'll make me feel, that’s all." You admitted softly.

"It's like alcohol, but a different type of intoxication. Here, I'll help you." The raven shifted his weight, leaning in close as he took a long drag. Holding the smoke trapped in his lungs, he gestured with his free hand for you to move closer. You hesitated for a heartbeat, your breath catching, before leaning forward slowly. Yoongi stopped when he was mere inches away from your face, his dark gaze locking onto your mouth before he began to exhale the smoke, breathing it out little by little. Though you were skeptical, you leaned in the final inch, inhaling the gray smoke as it retreated past his lips.

A harsh cough ripped from your throat the second the smoke hit the back of your sensitive lungs. Yoongi moved back just a fraction, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he took in your reaction. "See?" he smirked, his voice dropping an octave. "Corrupting you already."

You stared at the raven, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. The two of you locked eyes, completely forgetting that there was an entire group of people watching your every move.

"Alright, alright, get a room already," Joon teased, breaking the spell you were in.

Yoongi kept his eyes firmly on you, entirely unfazed by the audience. "I wouldn't mind getting a room," he said, slowly running his tongue over his bottom lip. You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling the raven's free hand begin to roam up your exposed thigh.

You quickly stood to your feet, breaking the contact before he could go any further. "Um, I think I could use another drink. I'm assuming the bottle is in the kitchen?" you asked, pointing toward the doorway and letting out an awkward, nervous laugh.

Yoongi simply nodded, his grin turning cocky at your sudden fluster, clearly overjoyed at being the sole cause of it. You quickly shuffled away and escaped into the kitchen, feeling the anxious tightness in your chest finally begin to disperse the moment you were separated from the heavy atmosphere of the group.

Once your heartbeat finally settled, you grabbed an empty solo cup from the counter. Your eyes scanned the kitchen, landing on a bottle of Don Julio. You grabbed it, pulling the cork out with a sharp pop.

"You and Yoongi look super cozy together." The sudden voice startled you. You turned around to see Sana standing in the entryway, her arms crossed tight over her chest.

"So?" you said, turning your back to her again to pour the tequila into your cup.

"So, I thought you were very adamant about not being into him. Remember?"

You whipped back around to face her. "I'm not," you snapped, your tone sharp. "He just invited me, so I came. That's it."

It was a bold faced lie; anyone in that room could feel the electric tension between you and the raven. You tried your best to hide it, but then he went and pulled stunts like he just did on the couch, and all your defenses came crashing down. You were attracted to Yoongi. That was a fact you could no longer deny to yourself. But deep down, you knew nothing could ever come of it. You were with Jungkook.

You just hated that you had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“You can say whatever you want, convince yourself of whatever you need, but you can’t convince me,” Sana snarled, her voice dropping to a harsh, mocking tone. “I mean, I don’t blame you. He’s Min Yoongi. Out of all those guys sitting out there, he has a presence that no woman can resist. Clearly not even you, Miss Goody-Goody. I honestly can’t wait to say I told you so.”

With one last judgmental look, she turned on her heel and swept out of the entryway, leaving you completely alone in the quiet kitchen. You quickly downed the burning liquid in your cup, letting it sear your throat as you emptied every last drop before immediately pouring yourself another one. Just as the liquor splashed into the bottom of the solo cup, you heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. You turned slightly, watching the raven slide effortlessly into the kitchen.

"Slow down there, lightweight," he teased, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the sight of the bottle in your hand. "I don't need you blacking out here."

You glared at him, throwing back the second drink before slamming the cup down onto the counter. "I'm ready to leave."

"What?" The raven raised an eyebrow, his lazy grin instantly vanishing. "We just got here," he stated, pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling quite like a people person tonight," you muttered, your mind in a million different places. First, there was Jungkook saying he loved you. Then, Hoseok's chilling warning. And now Sana with her crazy jealousy, clearly nowhere near over her past with Yoongi. It was all too much. You’d rather just have been alone to process everything, but Yoongi remained persistent about you staying.

“You don’t have to be. It won’t be too long before the guys dip out to get their nut off,” the raven said, his slow grin returning. He stepped a fraction closer to you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “Then it’ll just be me and you… unless I’m included in your desire to not be around people right now?”

Naturally, you didn’t mind being around just Yoongi. He was the sole reason you had even come in the first place. But there was always a stubborn moral compass ringing inside your head, reminding you that any feelings you harbored toward the raven were wrong; a complete betrayal not only to Jungkook, but to Mina, too.

Yoongi literally sold coke to Mina's boyfriend, ruthlessly using him as one of his drug mules. Not to mention the terrifying reality that Yoongi had probably killed people, whether indirectly or by his own hands. Though, you weren't entirely sure how true that part actually was. A drug dealer? That fact was completely undeniable. But a killer? Could Yoongi truly be capable of murder? The man you had seen at the fair, the one who had looked at you with soft eyes, and shared a deep moment with you, couldn't possibly be a monster.

“Well, what about Sana?” you asked suddenly.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at the random mention of Sana. “What the fuck about her?”

"She's here. Why don't you just have her keep you company?" you scowled, turning back around to pour another drink. But before you could even pop the cork out, Yoongi snatched the bottle completely out of your hand. He didn't say a word at first, his eyes locking onto yours as he deliberately set the bottle down on the counter behind him, clearing the distraction out of the way.

“Is that where this little attitude is coming from? Sana? I thought I told you I only fucked her once.”

"I don't care how many times you did. It's none of my business," you lied, keeping your voice tight as you tried to save face. "I just thought I'd make it clear that you have other options and don't need me here."

The raven stared at you for a moment.

"When are you gonna stop pretending there's nothing here and just give in to me?" Yoongi asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur as he took another step toward you. You instinctively tried to back away from him, but the hard edge of the counter pressed against your lower back, leaving you with absolutely no space left to move.

"B-because there isn't.." you stuttered, the denial tasting like ash on your tongue.

Yoongi closed the remaining distance between you two, his hands coming down to rest on the counter on either side of your hips. You were completely sandwiched between the raven and the cold marble surface. Your heart thumped frantically against your ribs as he began to lean down toward your lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "There isn't?" he questioned, his breath fanning across your skin.

"Yo, Honcho–" Joon’s voice cut through the air as he popped his head through the entryway of the kitchen. He froze for a fraction of a second, taking in the sight of the two of you trapped in each other's space, before the corner of his lips pulled into a knowing smirk. “I always seem to pop in on you two at the craziest times,” he teased.

"What is it, Joon?" Yoongi's voice was rough, dripping with irritation at his second in command as he turned his head slightly to look at him, though his hands never left the counter, keeping you securely pinned.

"Me and the guys are gonna dip and handle our due diligence," Joon said, flashing a quick wink. It didn't take a scientist to figure out what he meant. It was exactly what Yoongi had predicted just minutes ago; they were heading out to get their nut off.

Yoongi nodded, but his full, dark attention immediately snapped back to you. "Is Sana still here?" he asked Joon, his eyes tracking the way your chest rose and fell.

"Yeah, she is. Why, what's up?"

"Send the bitch on her way," Yoongi said coldly.

"Say less," Joon complied, stepping backward out of the kitchen and leaving you and the raven completely alone once again.

You could hear his retreating footsteps heading back to the living room, followed shortly by the distant, muffled sound of him telling Sana it was time to go. "There. Problem solved, sweetheart," Yoongi said, finally taking a single step back from you, though his dark gaze never wavered. The raven reached over and grabbed the bottle of Don Julio, shaking it slightly in the air as a lazy smirk crept back onto his face. "Now it's just you and me. So, how about we drink and have a kickback of our own?"

"Then I tried to hop over the fence and my shirt got caught," Yoongi smirked, tucking a stray strand of his dark hair behind his ear as he recounted the first time he went to juvie.

The two of you were easily ten shots in by now, having moved the bottle from the kitchen to the living room couch. You were completely enveloped in a rare state of security. You sat comfortably against the cushions with your shoes discarded on the floor, your legs curled up tightly under you. Yoongi sat close beside you, leaning forward over his knees as he flicked a lighter to life, igniting another blunt.

You giggled at the raven's story, shaking your head. "Why didn't you just try to slip the shirt off?" you asked him.

"I was running for like thirty minutes trying to get away. At that point, I was too tired. I just said fuck it, take me," he chuckled. He shoved the lighter back into his sweatshirt pocket before taking a few deep puffs of the blunt, the tip glowing a dull orange in the dim room. "Anyway, shit happens for a reason. I wouldn't have met Joon if I didn't get caught that day."

Hearing him say it out loud made a piece of the puzzle click. You silently recalled Hoseok mentioning earlier that night that Yoongi and Joon had first crossed paths in juvie. You wanted to bring up Hoseok's crazy ramblings to Yoongi, but you decided it was best not to. Not now, at least. Not when the vibe between you was so perfectly calm and natural.

Yoongi looked over at you, extending his hand with the blunt pinched tightly between his index finger and thumb. "You wanna hit this?" he asked. You looked down at the brown wrap. You hesitated for a split second, but ultimately took the blunt from his fingers, your skin brushing against his.

Putting it to your lips, you took a few light, careful puffs, still too afraid to take massive hits the way Yoongi did. The raven smiled, his dark eyes watching you intensely, as if he expected you to choke if he wasn't being vigilant. "Thatta girl, princess. Shotgunned off of me once and now I got you smoking like a pro," he said proudly, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. You exhaled the smoke, then handed the blunt back to the raven.

"Don't get used to me doing that. I'm just enjoying the moment," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Yoongi shrugged, taking another slow hit from the blunt. "I'm proud either way, angel," he said.

You stiffened slightly at the nickname. You had never heard Yoongi call you that before. It was a term of endearment that belonged entirely to Jungkook. He used it all the time. Suddenly, your mind was flooded with the memory of Jungkook slipping up and saying he loved you at work earlier today, and a crushing wave of guilt washed over your chest. Here you were, hiding away and getting high with Yoongi, while Jungkook mindlessly believed you were just hanging out with Mina right now.

Yoongi's sharp eyes immediately noticed the shift, catching the exact moment you zoned out and went miles away. "You good?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face. You debated on whether or not you should tell him what Jungkook had said today. Would he even care?

"Um... Jungkook said he loved me today." You looked over at the raven, your eyes searching his face to read his expression.

Yoongi ran his fingers through his dark hair, nodding his head slowly as if absorbing the news without letting it shake him. "And then what?" he asked, his voice steady as he waited for you to continue further.

"And then... nothing," you shrugged, the weight of the confession making your shoulders feel heavy. "I said nothing when he said it. I feel so horrible." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face to shield yourself from the quiet of the room. You cared about Jungkook deeply; you had been best friends for years, and you had harbored feelings for him long before the two of you finally decided to date and test the waters. But these past few days, everything has felt entirely off between you two.

You felt... bored.

"You don't love him," Yoongi stated, his voice flat and certain, as if he personally knew your own feelings and heart better than you did.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, your chest tightening defensively. "What?"

"You don't love him," he casually repeated. He reached over to grab an empty Solo cup from the coffee table, dropping the butt of the blunt inside.

"And how the hell would you know how I feel?" you shot back, trying to summon enough anger to mask the panic rising in your throat.

"Because you're here with me," Yoongi said, leaning back against the cushions and pinning you with an intense look. "You turned down a movie night with him to spend time with me. That alone should tell you something."

You opened your mouth to defend your actions, but the words died in your throat. You couldn't. You were here with Yoongi, and the bitter, undeniable truth was that you didn't regret the decision at all.

You were genuinely enjoying these casual conversations with him. Ever since the Daegu fair, the raven had become entirely humanized in your eyes. Even though he sold drugs and carried a dangerous, mean streak to his name, you liked him.

You liked Yoongi.

The silence in the living room stretched between you, heavy and thick with the smell of smoke, as his words settled deep into your chest. Yoongi just tracked the movement of your lips, waiting, knowing he had trapped you in a corner where lies couldn't save you. So you didn’t attempt it.

You casually looked around, admiring the decor of the warehouse and searching for absolutely anything to change the suffocating topic. Your eyes landed on an all black acoustic guitar hanging neatly on the wall right next to the loft stairs. "That's a cool guitar," you said, motioning toward it.

Yoongi pulled his gaze away from you, tracking your movement until his eyes landed on the instrument. "That's my baby right there. My mom bought it for me when I was twelve," he said, a genuine, soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory of his mother.

"You play?" you questioned, a little surprised. "I thought it was just for decoration."

"Don't insult me, sweetheart. I don't do things just for the look," he rumbled playfully. He stood up from the cushions, walking over to retrieve the guitar from its mount before coming back to sit down on the couch right beside you. Yoongi began to tune the guitar, his long fingers adjusting the pegs with practiced ease. You were completely surprised he could even function with all the alcohol and weed running through his system, but the substances didn't seem to phase him even a little bit.

The raven strummed the strings to see if the tune was to his liking, the chords ringing out deep and crisp into the high ceilings of the warehouse. Then, his fingers shifted, and he began to play.

You watched him intently. He looked completely relaxed, his dark eyes focused on the fretboard as he plucked out an all too familiar melody—one that immediately made your chest tighten and your heart feel incredibly massive.

Knocking on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan.

That was your dad's favorite song.

You hadn't heard the song in so long, having avoided it at all costs ever since your parents died. Yet, here Yoongi was playing it, handling the notes as though he could read your heart like an open book. The raven looked up at you, his fingers never missing a single strum despite his eyes locking onto yours. You felt a single tear escape and slip down your cheek. A quiet movement that didn't go unnoticed by him.

Yoongi immediately stopped playing, flattening his palm over the strings to kill the vibration. "You okay? I didn't mean to make you emotional," he murmured, his voice dropping into something genuinely gentle.

You shook your head, sniffing softly as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "No, you're fine. It's just... that song you played. It reminded me of my dad, that's all. That was his favorite song," you informed him, your voice cracking slightly on the words.

A wave of sympathy softened his sharp features. He carefully set the black guitar down onto the floor, completely discarding it to move closer to you on the cushions. Reaching out, the raven gently brushed the pad of his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the stray tear. “You’re too pretty to cry,” he whispered, his thumb lingering against your skin.

Min Yoongi.

When you first met him, those eyes made you shiver. They were scary, cold, and lifeless; the devil's eyes.

Now, those exact same eyes were looking at you like you were something so precious, something so breakable that he wanted to protect you from any further damage.

The raven's lips inched closer to yours. You followed suit, your breath hitching as your eyes fluttered closed, waiting to finally feel the soft pressure of his lips against yours. When his lips finally do meet yours, it wasn’t the harsh, reckless collision you might have expected from someone like Yoongi. It was soft, slow, and desperately tender. A quiet reassurance that sent a tingle straight down your spine. The faint taste of tequila and smoke lingered between you, blurring the edges of the room until nothing else existed but the warmth of his mouth against yours.

Yoongi’s hand slid from your cheek, his long fingers gently gripping the back of your neck to hold you steady, deepening the kiss with a low, heavy breath. You melted into him, your hands finding themselves on the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as you pulled yourself closer.

Every ounce of guilt, every lingering warning from Hoseok, and the ghost of Jungkook’s confession from earlier today were entirely washed away in the dark, quiet haze of the warehouse.

You found yourself slowly being pushed backward onto the plush cushions of the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as Yoongi settled his body over yours, positioning himself flush between your legs.

Yoongi didn't break the kiss for a single second. Instead, his mouth grew hungrier, more possessive, tracing the seam of your lips as his hands left your neck to slide down to your waist, his grip firm and steady as he anchored you to the cushions beneath him. The contrast of his heavy frame pinning you down while treating you like something entirely precious made your breath hitch against his lips, your fingers tightening into the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him even closer.

The sudden loss of his warmth made you gasp softly as Yoongi pulled his lips away from yours. He remained settled heavily between your legs, his dark eyes locked onto you as he crossed his arms and pulled his sweatshirt over his head in one fluid motion. The silver chain around his neck clanked in the quiet room before settling against his collarbone.

He tossed the discarded sweatshirt onto the floor, leaving him in just a plain white tee. Yoongi paused for a second, his chest rising and falling with hefty breaths as he used a hand to push his messy dark locks back out of his face. The intense, protective gaze was still burning in his eyes, but now it was laced with an undeniable hunger. Leaning back forward, he closed the distance between you once again, crashing his lips back onto yours with a newfound fervor that completely stole the air from your lungs.

The raven rolled his hips against you, the sudden, friction filled pressure making a soft whimper escape your lips. His large hands held your waist securely to the cushions before he pulled his lips away once more, all the while still grinding slowly against you.

"I promise to be gentle with you if you let me," he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, the rough texture of his palms catching against the fabric as he began to lift your dress further. A sudden wave of nerves crashed over you at the thought, making your chest tighten. You wanted him. You desperately wanted this, but the guilt was a massive wall standing right in the way.

You had always assumed you would lose your virginity to Jungkook. It was supposed to be safe, familiar, and organically planned. But Jungkook wasn't here.

Yoongi was.

He was right here, hovering over you with a patient hunger, waiting for the words that would change everything between you two.

"Y-Yoongi, we can't. I'm with Jungko-"

The raven clamped a hand over your mouth, stopping you from finishing his name. "I don't wanna hear his fucking name right now," he growled. His hips were still grinding into you, but his pace picked up, the sudden intensity making your breath hitch beneath his palm.

The consistent, heavy motion made your panties rub against your clit, sending a tingle straight down your spine. Yoongi slowly pulled his hand away from your lips, his dark eyes burning down into yours with an absolute, possessive gravity. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop," he said, his voice a low command.

You didn't offer the raven any words, just a breathless moan that tore from your throat. A sound that was absolute music to his ears. He smirked down at how needy you looked underneath him, his ego flaring at his total control over you. How could you possibly pretend to not want this when you were coming apart already, and he hadn't even been inside of you yet?

"From the looks of it, you're so deprived that all it’Il take right now is dry fucking for you to cum," he rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, filthy purr that made your stomach completely flip. You couldn't deny it; this simple action really could be enough to cause an orgasm, but deep down, you wanted to go the extra mile with him. "Do it," you whined, your hips blindly tracking his movement as you completely lost your grip on your restraint. "J-Just do it."

That was all Yoongi needed to hear. He stopped grinding into you, pulling back to undo his jeans. He didn't take them fully off, opting instead to pull them down just enough for his hard cock to spring free from his Celine boxers. Your eyes widened slightly, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you took in the full size and length of him. He was much bigger than you had expected him to be; it was no wonder Sana had a hard time getting over him after their one night stand.

The raven hooked his fingers into the hem of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them onto the floor right next to his sweatshirt. Your dress was still bunched up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed beneath him now. You instinctively tried to close your legs to hide yourself, but with his weight still settled right between your thighs, you couldn't move.

The raven smirked down at your failed attempt to hide, his thighs easily pulling yours further apart, refusing to let you close yourself off. But as he looked down, tracking the panicked rise and fall of your chest and the way you squeezed your eyes shut tight, the smug look vanished. Seeing how scared you were dragged him back to reality, reminding him exactly what this was for you.

Your first time.

The thought alone sent a possessive rush in his veins. You weren’t like the other women he had fucked, then passed around to his crew. You were pure. Untouched. Untainted. Your walls had never been broken, and knowing he was the very first to claim you made him want to lose all control, to pin you down and slam his dick straight into you. But he fought the urge back. He was willing to take this slow. He was willing to be gentle, just like he promised. He wasn't going to force his way in. Not yet.

"Relax for me," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low purr. Bypassing his cock for now, Yoongi reached down, his long fingers finding your slick, dripping heat. He pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you gasp, before he slowly slid a single finger inside of you.

The feeling of his hot skin sliding into you sent an intense, unravelling ache straight to your core. Your inner walls clenched down around him, instantly tight and resistant to the sudden intrusion. Yoongi hissed softly at the brutal friction, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he held himself still. He didn't pull back; instead, he kept his finger buried deep inside you to let your body adapt, while the pad of his thumb began working in small, agonizingly slow circles to coax you open.

A mixture of pain and pleasure flooded your senses. You had never actually inserted anything inside of yourself before, only ever rubbing your clit when you were alone and horny, so this deep, stretching was completely overwhelming. The intensity of the feeling made it impossible to listen to his voice, let alone try to relax.

"Look at me," Yoongi growled, his voice dropping into a rough command as he noticed your breathing hitch. He pressed his thumb a little firmer against your clit, trying to ground you through the sensory overload. "I know it hurts a little, but you need to breathe for me. Let it slip in and out."

Your eyes flutter open upon his command as you try to breathe as told. Slowly, he began to curl his finger inside you, testing your limits and forcing your tight depths to widen for him. The sudden internal hook against your walls completely shattered your concentration, dragging a high, helpless whine from your throat. Your back arched slightly off the couch cushions, your hands clawing blindly into the fabric beside your head as your muscles instinctively clamped down once more around his finger.

Yoongi hissed again through his teeth, his knuckles turning white where his hand rested against the armrest behind your head. The crushing grip of your body around his finger was testing the absolute limits of his control, but he didn't back off. Instead, his gaze darkened with a relentless dominance. "I told you to breathe," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, rough and completely devoid of room for negotiation.

He leaned more of his weight over you, his lean frame crowding you down and effectively trapping you flat against the cushions. His free hand moved from the armrest to slide up the side of your neck, his thumb bracing firmly under your jaw to tilt your face up. He didn't hurt you, but the grip was ironclad, forcing your eyes right back to his.

With you completely pinned beneath him, the pad of his thumb pressed down hard against your swollen clit, no longer stroking in gentle circles, but applying a heavy, flattening pressure that sent a sudden ache straight through your pelvis. He held it there, demanding your total submission.

"Stop fighting it," he commanded, his eyes burning into yours as he tilted his finger a fraction deeper against your tight walls. "If you can’t take one finger, how’re you supposed to take this dick, huh?” His grip tightens slightly on the side of your neck. “Huh?” he repeated, demanding your answer.

“I-I’m sorry…” you stammered, embarrassment flooding your chest as the weight of his standards settled heavily over you.

Yoongi shook his head at your apology. “Don’t apologize to me, babygirl. Just take it.”

The pet name hits you like a physical shock, melting through the sharp sting of the entrance and sending a completely different kind of heat pooling between your thighs. Hearing him call you that while his frame pinned you to the couch cushions made your heart hammer against your chest. Your fingers twitched against the fabric beside your head, your body instinctively wanting to soften under the sudden warmth of his praise, even as the fullness of his finger remained buried deep inside you, awaiting your compliance.

Your breathing finally began to stutter out in a long, trembling exhale, your chest sinking as you forced yourself to yield to his command. The tense, defensive coil in your hips slowly dissolved into the cushions, allowing the walls of your core to soften and untangle around his finger.

Yoongi watched the change happen in real time, his eyes tracking the exact moment the panic left your expression and your body opened up for him. A low, approving rumble vibrated deep in his chest as the tight friction around his hand gave way to an accommodating heat. "Good girl." he murmured, his voice dropping a quiet praise that made your stomach flutter.

The raven didn't hesitate. Seizing the moment your body relaxed, he slid his thumb out from under your jaw and used his free hand to firmly spread your legs a little wider, anchoring you in place. With a smooth shift of his knuckles, he aligned a second finger against your opening and pushed it straight inside, pairing it alongside the first before immediately driving them deep.

The sudden, thick invasion turned into a heavy, rhythmic thrusting that completely took your breath away. He set a demanding pace right from the start, his wrist moving with practiced precision as his fingers slid all the way in and pulled back just enough to drive right back into your heat. A choked gasp caught in your throat as the friction of two fingers moving deep inside of you stretched your newly softened depths to their absolute limit, the steady, relentless tempo turning the initial ache into an overwhelming fullness.

“Oh fuck–” you cried, your hand mindlessly reaching out to try to grab at his wrist to stop him, but Yoongi smacked it away before you could.

“Don’t touch me,” he growled, the sharp reprimand cutting right through your haze as his fingers kept up their relentless rhythm inside you. Your hand dropped back onto the cushion, your fingers twitching helplessly against the fabric as the pace he was driving into you completely shattered your defenses. Yoongi didn't look down; his dark eyes stayed locked on your face, watching the way your lips parted and your chest heaved with every deep, sliding stroke of his hand.

The slick stretch of two fingers moving in such a demanding, unbothered tempo was turning your embarrassment into a pure, frantic need. He was stretching you out completely, filling you so thoroughly that every push of his wrist sent a hot wave of pressure straight through your hips, forcing you to take every bit of the pace he set.

The relentless, deep pace he was driving into you was rapidly breaking your body down, forcing a thick moisture to coat his skin. Within moments, the fullness of his two fingers began to pump your arousal out, the glossy wetness overflowing your tight opening until it completely drenched his fingers and smeared across the back of his hand.

Yoongi let out a low, gritty sound at the wet squelch of his movements echoing in the quiet room as his knuckles repeatedly pressed against your drenched entrance. The messy, excessive warmth of your own body coating his hand only seemed to make him get rougher, using your own lubrication to drive his fingers even deeper, thoroughly stretching you out until you were dripping against his skin with every single stroke.

The raven’s dark eyes narrowed as he tracked the erratic shudder of your chest, his fingers still ruthlessly working inside you to draw out every drop of your wetness. The sight of you completely undone, trembling on the verge of a breakdown, stripped away the last of his patience.

He abruptly stopped the rhythm, leaving his fingers buried deep and perfectly still inside your swollen depths. The sudden lack of movement was an absolute tease, leaving you stranded on the very edge of a cliff.

He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he forced his weight heavily over you.“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded, his voice a deep command that left no room for hesitation. “Say it.”

A high, dire whine broke from your throat at the sudden agonizing stillness, your hips instinctively jerking upward in a silent, pathetic plea for him to keep moving. The tease was unbearable; your body was wound so incredibly tight, practically begging for the release he was intentionally withholding from you.

Yoongi didn't budge an inch. He simply let out a dark, amused huff against your ear, his fingers remained buried like lead inside your dripping pussy. "I didn't ask for a whine," he rasped, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline to tilt your head back just enough to look at him. "I asked for words. Tell me you want me to fuck you." He repeated the command.

“I–I… I want you fuck me.” You stutter out.

"Good girl," he growled the praise against your ear as he finally withdrew his fingers from your drenched warmth.

The sudden emptiness left you cold for only a second before the weight of his front pressed completely over you, pinning you flat into the couch. He didn't waste another moment. His hand reached down between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock directly against your swollen opening, smearing your own excess wetness along the head.

He didn't ease into it. With one fluid, commanding thrust of his hips, Yoongi buried himself all the way inside of you, driving deep until his pelvis smacked hard against yours.

Your breath cut off completely, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your fingers clawed desperately into the fabric of his shirt. Your gaze, already locked wide onto his, turned instantly glassy as his sheer thickness stretched you open to an impossible limit, filling you so completely it made your head spin.

“Fuck—” The raven grunted, his upper body hovering over you as he went completely rigid, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

He stayed entirely still, his muscles locked as he forced himself to hold back and let your body adjust to his size. The utter stretch of him filling you to the absolute brim made your hips tremble against the cushions, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches beneath his heavy frame.

Every muscle in his back was corded with strain, his pulse hammering heavily where his chest pressed against yours. He took a slow, deep breath, waiting out the initial shock of the fit, though the tight, desperate clench of your walls around his cock was clearly pushing his self control over the edge.

The moment the clenching of your walls finally eased into a welcoming squeeze, Yoongi let out a satisfied groan. He didn't give you a second to recover. Pulling back just enough to catch his leverage, he drove his hips forward, initiating a hard, deliberate rhythm that completely altered the gravity of the room. The slow, punishing depth of his first few strokes was consuming; he slid almost entirely out before sinking all the way back in, bottoming out against you with a wet, heavy thud that rattled the breath right out of your lungs.

He growled, his hands locking firmly on your hips to keep you pinned into the cushions as his pace began to quicken. "Fuck, your pussy feels so good. Just like I imagined."

The steady, intense heat of his body against yours quickly became a relentless blur as his speed increased. The contact was rougher now, the coarse denim of his jeans and the fabric of his boxers scraping against your inner thighs with every aggressive plunge.

The sound of his skin and denim slapping against you echoed loud in the room, driving home the raw, bruising pace he was establishing. With every powerful thrust, his pelvis collided hard against your hips, the tight fullness stretching you so completely that a series of needy, high pitched moans broke from your throat. Because it was your first time, the sheer magnitude of the sensation was almost too much to process; every single movement sent a wave of sweet ache straight through your body, a deep tightness that was simultaneously agonizing and intoxicating as he broke you in.

Yoongi’s gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and entirely focused as he hovered over you. As his upper body leaned in closer to deepen the angle, the chain around his neck swung free. “God, you’re so pretty.” He breathed out. “The best pussy I’ve ever fucking had.”

“Y-Yoongi…” you moaned, your hands balling up the fabric of his shirt tightly. The raven flashed his gummy smile at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. It was something he could listen to over and over again.

“Fuck… say my name again.”

"Y-Yoongi..." you cried out again, your voice completely breaking as your eyes fluttered closed, your mind dissolving under the weight of pleasure, until the sudden sharp, stinging sensation of his fingers gently smacked your cheek, snapping your eyes back open.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice growing incredibly rough and strained as his pace became frantic. "I want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He panted, undoubtedly coming close to his end. You were close as well, feeling an intense feeling build up in your stomach.

"Look at how wet you are for me," he rasped, his dirty talk turning completely unfiltered as he felt the contractions of your walls tightening around him. He drove into you harder, faster. "You're taking every single inch of me."

Your vision blurred at the edges as that coiled heat in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. Every touch felt magnified a hundred times over because it was him, because it was your first time, and the vulnerability of being completely pinned beneath his weight had your mind spinning out of control.

Yoongi let out a low, breathless laugh, his hips stuttering as the deep squelch of your pussy and his thrusts echoed loudly. "Fuck, look what we did," he groaned, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction as he looked down at where your bodies met. "You completely soaked the couch underneath us, baby. You're dripping all over the cushions for me."

Hearing those words sent a heavy wave of heat straight to your face, a mix of intense shyness and absolute surrender that made you squeeze him even tighter.

"Y-Yoongi, I'm gonna..." you cried out, your fingers letting go of his shirt so you could wrap your arms securely around his neck, pulling him down against you. Your hips bucked up instinctively against his, completely consumed by the pressure. "I'm about to cum..."

His dark eyes flared with desperation, his pace turning completely frantic at your admission. Strands of his damp, raven hair fell completely into his face, clinging to his sweaty forehead and obscuring his vision, but he didn't even try to brush them away as he stared down at you through the dark fringe. He slid his arms beneath your back, wrapping them tightly around you and locking you in an embrace that left no space between your chests.

"Me too, baby, fuck, I'm right there with you," he panted out, his voice entirely undone.

He bottomed out hard, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with completely blown out eyes, caught instantly as the coiled tension in your stomach snapped. “Oh god, fuck!” You scream aloud. An explosive, blinding wave of release crashed through you, your walls clamping down on him in tight, frantic pulses.

"I wanna watch my cum dripping out of this tight little pussy when I'm done with you." Yoongi growled, his grip tightening around you as the muscles in his back locked up, your climax triggering his own.With a final, deep thrust, Yoongi threw his head back, his dark hair tossing wildly away from his face. A loud, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came heavily inside you, his entire frame shuddering violently within your embrace as he poured himself into your tightness, locking you both into the shared, breathless aftershocks of the peak.

The violent shuddering of his body slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of your shared, ragged breathing filling the quiet room. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Yoongi remained buried deep inside you, his heavy frame completely draped over yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his chest heaved against your breasts.

The tight grip of his arms around your back gradually softened, his hands now simply resting against the fabric of your dress, tracing comforting circles into your waist through the material. You could feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat right against your ribs, slowly syncing up with your own.

With a low, exhausted grunt, Yoongi shifted his weight, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at you, careful not to crush you on the narrow cushions. Strands of his damp, raven hair were still stuck to his forehead, framing eyes that were dark, heavy lidded, and utterly soft. The intimidating intensity from moments before was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, protective warmth.

"You okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly deep from the groans he’d just let out. He raised one hand, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, his touch entirely tender.

“Mhm..” You nod breathlessly, your body feeling liquefied, a pleasant ache settling deep into you.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at where your bodies were still joined beneath the bunched up layers of your dress. True to his word, as he slowly and carefully began to pull himself out of your slick cunt, a thick, white stream of his release mixed with your own, dripping out of you and pooling onto the already damp fabric of the couch cushions beneath your hips.

"Look at that," Yoongi whispered, a low rumble of dark satisfaction vibrating in his chest as he stared at the messy sight. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the salt of your skin. “You did so fucking good for your first time, baby." He praises you.

The raven collapsed back down onto you, shifting his legs so they tangled thoroughly with yours on the snug space of the couch. He tucked his face right back into your neck, wrapping his arms securely around your torso to anchor you against his chest. He didn't care about the state of his slid down jeans or the dampness of your dress; he just wanted to hold you against him as the adrenaline finally began to fade and he began to fall asleep.

Your mind was a chaotic tangle of thoughts you couldn't quite straighten out. The reality of what just happened was crashing down in waves. You had just lost your virginity. And it wasn't just to anyone; it was to Yoongi, the last person you ever expected to be in this position with.

But beneath that realization lay the heaviest weight of all; Jungkook.

The thought of his name sent a sharp, confusing pang straight through your chest. You had cheated. The word felt ugly, completely incompatible with the hazy, warm weight of Yoongi resting on top of you, yet it was undeniably there. Did you regret it? The alcohol and smoke clouded your brain too much to give you a straight answer. There was no clarity to be found right now, no easy wave of guilt or sudden rush of justification. There was no going back from this. No fixing it, no pretending it was a mistake born purely out of a messy night. The moment you had agreed to come to Yoongi’s warehouse, the trajectory of everything had shifted.

All you knew for certain, as you stared blankly into the dimly lit room with Yoongi’s heartbeat thumping steady against your ribs, was that everything was about to change.

Taglist

Steve is still talking.

“Going forward,” Steve continues, voice rising with conviction, “I expect precision. If we can’t get the basics right, we might as well be monkeys.”

You nod once, like this is a completely reasonable use of everyone’s time, like you are deeply invested in his new policies to facilitate proper restroom decorum.

You are not.

You shift in your seat, already dissociating when you feel the heat of someone’s gaze. Fixed on you like glue.

You glance sideways and mhmm, Yoongi. Sunk into his chair like he couldn’t care less about anything happening in front because his eyes are locked on you.

Why is he… manspreading like he pays everyone’s salaries here?

You look away quickly, heat creeping up your neck, and turn your phone over from your lap.

You: is there something on my face? YG.M: you didnt answer my text You: cry about it 😛 YG.M: careful You: pay attention to steve YG.M: boring

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. When you look at him across from you, there’s a shit-eating grin now sitting pretty on his face. You text him back.

You: why u lookin smug tho? YG.M: you really wanna know You: i wouldn’t have asked YG.M: i love knowing you get off on my voice

Fuck?! You drop your phone.

“Shit,” you breathe out. 

A couple of your colleagues turn their heads, wincing when they realize you dropped your expensive Galaxy smartphone.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s okay,” you mumble quickly. Before you can bend to retrieve it, JK has already done it for you.

“Who you textin’?” JK whispers when everyone else has their attention back on the presentation.

“Nobody.”

“Nah. Don’t play.” He snickers, then, without another word, flips his notebook open and with the pen previously hanging from his ear, starts doodling on the corner.

You try to ignore him, you really do, because you have a feeling that whatever he is drawing is gonna be–

Oh what the fuck.

It’s a word you don’t quite read clearly but beside it, a shockingly detailed looking penis! Hairy balls and all!

You blink at him. Once. Twice. OMFG.

JK ducks his head between his knees, shaking as he tries to quiet his giggles.

You are horrified, but you stay still to not direct more attention to the two of you. This boy is sososososo stupid. How he scored a corporate job, you actually have no idea. Maybe he included a link to his thirst-trappy Tiktok in his resume.

“What is wrong with you,” you mouth when JK finally resurfaces, still red in the face.

He tilts his notebook to show you his “diagram” in full glory. There’s the word August and it’s beside a… yup, that. 

JK grins, “Get it? Agust dick?”

You choke. Actually choke. You grab your tumbler, sipping aggressively before coughing into your fist. JK has the audacity to pat your back like a concerned colleague.

Steve pauses mid-sentence for half a second, zooming in on you before continuing. “…as I was saying…”

You sink lower into your seat. You hate it here. You especially hate JK. And Yoongi, too.

Your phone buzzes again. Fuck. 

YG.M: u ok?

You inhale sharply, placing your phone screen down on your lap because you can’t handle this. These two are tag-teaming you in the worst way possible right now and you will not survive it.

Yoongi won’t leave you alone though. You can feel his cat-like eyes clawing into your line of vision.

You: quit it 😭 YG.M: you still thinking bout it? You: shut up YG.M: make me

Your entire body locks up. 

Beside you, JK quietly adds more hair to his cartoon dick.

You physically cannot stay a second longer, so you slip out before Steve can say “toilet” again. Which is where you end up hiding for most of the townhall until someone eventually knocks. 

“Y/N, you in there?”

Yoongi.

Of fucking course.

“Yeah…” you respond.

“You good?”

You crack the door open, check the hallway, and when the coast is clear, you grab his necktie and pull him in.

A wry smile tugs at his lips as he allows himself to be dragged inside, watching the door shut and lock with a soft whirr. “You okay? You were choking pretty hard back there.”

“Blame your cartoon dick,” you mumble lowly.

“What?”

You ignore the crease between his brows. “I”m fine. Why are you here?”

“I was concerned.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unconvinced. “We just got an earful about restroom etiquette. I don’t think this is it.”

Yoongi’s shoulders bob as he chuckles silently. “You’re the one who pulled me in and now made this whole thing very sus.”

“Fuck.” He’s right. You hope no one spots you when you eventually get out. But you don’t let him get away with that. You need to maintain that this is his fault, not yours. 

You huff indignantly, folding your arms on your chest. “Well you’re the one who’s been looking at me like…”

“Like what…?” he prompts, tone a little soft.

“Like you wanna eat me.”

“Well…” the corner of his mouth lifts. “Maybe I do?”

You shake your head at him, failing to hide the giddy smile that is threatening to spread on your face. Ah fuck it. This is so undeniable. You want him. He wants you. You’re in a locked room. Why are you still holding back?

Heels clicking against tile, you close the very small gap between your bodies but why are his palms on your shoulders, holding you in place?

Yoongi leans in so your faces are inches apart, eyes level. “Need to ask you something first.”

Your eyes fixate on his mouth as he speaks. Lips soft and plump and pink. You’ve stared at them for a while now and you’ve always wondered how they’d feel against your own. 

You surprise yourself with the command in your tone. “Ask it. Then, kiss me.”

A warm, amused exhale grazes your cheek. “Want me to kiss you, hmm? In this shitty toilet?” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, cupping your jaw gently. “Or do you want it when I can take my time with you?”

There’s almost nothing between you now. Just a sliver of space that feels criminal. One move and it’s gone. You want it—god, you do—but not like this. Not rushed. And not here beside the fucking bidet.

“The second,” you mumble, grey matter still mush.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, before slowly pulling away.

He doesn’t really stray that far and without thinking, your hands move to his chest, straightening the tie you’d bent out of shape when you pulled him in.

You smooth the fabric down, fingertips brushing over the firm planes beneath. The tiniest smile forms on his lips but it’s enough to make you swoon.

“Give me a second. I’ll text Jay, so we can get outta here...” He fishes out his phone from his pocket, eyes soft and almost fond. Yours probably look the same.

After a few minutes, there’s a knock and a voice. “It’s me.”

You emerge and the cool A/C air hits your skin, dousing the earlier heat from inside.

“You kids had fun?” Jay quips when you emerge, patting Yoongi on the shoulder.

Yoongi completely ignores him, pace quickening towards the lifts, then he’s gone like the wind.

You also take that as your cue to briskwalk the other way, while Jay’s giggles echo across the now empty corridor.

You find yourself on the phone with Yoongi quite often. This is the fourth time this week. You haven’t really done anything crazy, not like the last time. But you have talked a lot.

Although you’ve heard his voice many times before from your app and his corporate tone in the office, this normal version is even more soothing. Especially when every word is meant for you, even if the things he says are mundane.

“Fuuuuck,” Yoongi groans. “Tang just shat on the rug!”

You giggle as you hear Yoongi’s faraway voice cussing in the background, while a cat purrs an argument back at him.

A different voice takes over. “Hey, seatmate.”

Mhm. “What do you want, Jay?”

Ever since the toilet incident, Jay has become friendlier with you. Less judging, more teasing.

“Yoongi just rawdogged Tang’s fecal matter by the way,” Jay narrates with a shudder.

“I didn't need to know that.” You say, adjusting your ear buds on one ear as you close the fridge door with your hip.

“Well what do you want to know then?”

“Nothing…?”

“Hmm. I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

Jay giggles. “You’ve been talking to Yoongi every night this week and it’s almost the weekend...”

“Okay??”

“So aren’t you coming over instead?”

Your entire face heats instantly so you take a sip of water. “Are you wingmanning him right now?”

“He’s not always as smooth as you think,” Jay snorts.

“Oh, FUCK—” A loud crash echoes somewhere in their apartment. You can hear Yoongi’s loud shriek.

“What the hell is going on there?”

Jay is howling in laughter. “Tang–zoomies–poop everywhere…”

In the background, Yoongi yells: “WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?”

You can’t help but laugh along with Jay, the mirth in his voice making you feel warm, too. Honestly, this might be the most affection you’ve ever felt for two men and a cat.

It’s obvious though that the cat-astrophe needs to be dealt with pronto. “I should probably go. Good luck with that,” you manage between giggles. “Tell Yoongi I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Jay says, still giggling. “Night, seatmate.”

Then, farther away: “Tell her I said bye!”

“Switching to speaker,” Jay says.

“Bye Yoongi,” you say and end the call with the dumbest grin on your face. You peel off your collagen sheet mask that’s practically dry on your face now, and call it a night.

You expect Jay and Yoongi’s apartment to be nice. But not whatever this is.

“You live here?” you ask as Yoongi shuts the door, the automatic lock beeping after him.

He shrugs once, serious. “No, I actually sleep in the server room at work. Just here to fix Jay’s wi-fi.”

“Ha-ha.” You deadpan, but any snark dies the second you really step in. Because this is money money. Like porn industry money. Does Yoongi make bank in Echo? Now you’re a little curious.

The flat is massive. Every piece of furniture looks carefully curated from the cream-coloured sectional to dark wood accents and sleek appliances that are probably linked to an app.

Mikro Tech absolutely cannot be paying enough for them to live like Tony Stark.

“What the hell,” you mumble under your breath as you point to an entire shelf of rare bearbricks decorating one entire wall. There’s a Louis Vuitton KAWS and a bedazzled one that also looks dope as hell.

Yoongi shrugs like none of this is remotely shocking. “Jay is a bearbricks collector.”

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you reply, still in shock.

“You want one?” He says as you continue to admire the lot. He even has a Barbie limited edition.

“He’d notice if one disappeared,” Yoongi says thoughtfully. “But not immediately.”

You shake your head. “That’s a staggering amount of money on one corner of your house, Yoongi.”

“Jay has a lot of side quests.” Yoongi explains vaguely.

“Alright,” you nod, thinking you don’t really want to press him for details about this eccentric friend. “Where is he anyway?”

“Not here.” His eyes immediately land on you and the grin that spreads across his face is immediate and deeply annoying. “It’s just you and me.”

You nod dumbly, heartbeat going haywire with what he just said. 

Yoongi walks toward the kitchen. “You eat yet?” he asks over his shoulder. Truth is you were too nervous when you made plans with him for after-hours drinks. You also wanted to ensure you fit comfortably in this cute little dress you picked out, so you skipped dinner.

“Sort of?” 

“Mm. That means no.”

“Oh,” you remember something when you see the jar of kibbles on a marble counter. “Where’s the infamous Tang?”

“Jay has him.” Yoongi says quickly. “Like I said, it’s just us.”

Us.

Two letters that got your brain spinning out as he leads you to the kitchen. He takes off the gray sweater he has on, leaving the white undershirt that clings to his chest and arms in the most delectable way possible. It’s over for you.

A few minutes later, you’re watching Yoongi make dinner. Based on what he’s laid out, he is about to serve you kimchi fried rice. Simple dish but a crowd favorite. There’s another tupperware with a dark brown marinade, unmistakably bulgogi waiting to be transferred to the cast iron pan he’s placed over the fire.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s a good cook. He’s moving around the kitchen with confidence and familiarity and as a home cook yourself, you’re very impressed.

“Didn’t know you knew how to cook,” you remark.

He gives you a look. “I’m great at it, actually.”

“Hm. I’ll be the judge of that.”

He huffs out a laugh over the sizzle of the pan.

Eventually, Yoongi pushes a bowl of rice towards you, garnishes it with seaweed and sesame seeds. Then he tops it with a fried egg, edges crisp and golden, straight from the pan. 

The bulgogi follows soon after, glossy with marinade and still crackling from the heat. It’s stupidly good. Savory, sweet, smoky. Fried with just the right amount of char.

“Okay,” you say after the second bite, pressing a napkin on your lips. “You pass.”

Yoongi blows at his knuckles and wipes it off his shirt, entirely pleased with himself.

“Here.” You hold out your spoon to him, bit of yolked rice and beef, the perfect bite. He accepts it with a smile.

And god, this is so fuckin’ nice. Being with him in his home. Laughing and bantering over an aromatic meal. The domesticity is not suffocating at all. Just sweet and comfortable. You could get used to this.

After you finish eating, Yoongi gives you a little house tour, and every room somehow looks like it belongs in an architectural digest. These two are loaded, no doubt.

The balcony alone is ridiculous, all glass railings and a sprawling view of the city Seoul glittering below. They have a small lounge setup there, wicker chairs and a glass table with an ash tray in between. A barbeque grill is off to the side and you highly suspect Yoongi is good at that, too.

Inside, the entertainment setup is equally obscene. A massive television takes up nearly an entire wall, surrounded by towering speakers and neatly stacked gaming consoles from every era.

“You guys are such nerds,” you say with barely controlled lust.

“Jay bought most of that,” Yoongi explains. “Our friends like to hang out here once in a while.”

“I thought you didn’t have friends.”

“I don’t like people. But people like me.” He shrugs with a bracket-like grin. “I’m cute.”

You shake your head, hella endeared even if you don’t want to let it show lest it gets to his head.

“Is this them?” You spot a small framed picture of Yoongi and Jay, with two tall, also good-looking guys flanking them.

“Yeah, that’s Jin and Joon.”

You hum, still studying the pic. College dorm party for sure with the way they are holding solo cups as red as Jay’s face.

“Gonna give me their number or what?”

The wry laugh that huffs out of him... Oh you may be in trouble for that little quip.

“Mm. Which one?”

“Both. I’m greedy.” 

Another “Mm.”

The hole you’re digging is getting deeper.

“Whatever you want.” He says cryptically and you follow him to another room. 

His. It’s surprisingly simple. Clean. A single hoodie tossed over a chair. A diffuser humming softly near the window. 

The bed is enormous. He’s mentioned that he takes sleep very seriously and it shows. Dark sheets beneath a thick comforter, oversized pillows stacked neatly against the headboard like the kind of bed where you already know you’d bounce a little if he threw you onto it before god knows what.

Then your eyes drift upward. One of the bedposts has a scarf loosely tied around it. 

Hmm.

You clear your throat, suddenly very interested in literally anything else in the room. Because that’s not purely decorative and you damn well know it.

Behind you, a quiet puff of amusement escapes Yoongi before he lightly taps the doorframe.

“C’mon,” he says. “I wanna show you something else.”

He leads you down a short hallway toward another room, sliding a ‘Recording in Progress’ sign into place before pushing the door open with a small nod.

“Is this where the magic happens?” you ask, realizing this is probably his studio.

He gestures to you to enter first. “We’ll see…”

Oh the recording setup is insane.

He’s got this massive monitor against one wall while microphones, mixers, and headphones sit arranged with meticulous care across the desk. Acoustic panels line the walls and soft ambient lighting makes the whole room feel quite intimate.

He can’t just be doing audio book recordings with all this because, wow, this is state-of-the-art music equipment.

“So this is where Agust D lives?” you muse, taking everything in.

Yoongi pushes off against the doorway. “Unfortunately.” 

The door clicks behind him.

There are printed scripts scattered nearby, pages full of highlighted notes and scribbled annotations in Yoongi’s handwriting. He has annotations on where he needs to speak faster, or slower, or lower. He also has comments on how certain passages should feel. 

“You really take this seriously.”

You feel his palms against your shoulders, pressing his thumb along your traps and there’s an immediate rush of satisfaction there as he kneads it lightly. 

“I like doing things right,” he says. And if he meant something else by that. Well.

He motions you toward the couch tucked into the corner of the room. “Sit.”

You obey immediately, smoothing your dress as you take a seat.

Yoongi settles into his computer chair and swivels toward the monitor, pulling on his headphones on his neck before glancing back at you. “I’ve got new material to record tonight.”

Your eyes light up instantly. “Seriously?”

A small smile tugs at his mouth at your excitement. “Yeah… Thought you’d want to see the behind the scenes?”

“Okay,” you answer meekly. “Sure.”

Yoongi clears his throat once, eyes flicking toward the script, and you shift with anticipation. You curl deeper into the couch, heart fluttering wildly in your chest, because getting a private recording session with Agust D was not in your bingo card. 

But you thank your lucky stars that you’re right here right now.

Fifteen minutes later, well… it’s not been great. But honestly, you had this coming.

There’s a dampness between your thighs that’s gotten increasingly unbearable with every passage he reads, every subtle shift in his tone, every low rasp that settles straight into your pussy instead of your ears.

And the worst part?

Of course he knows what this shit does to you.

You can tell by the way his eyes keep drifting toward you over the edge of the script, watching every little reaction you fail to hide.

“The way she looked at him,” Yoongi reads smoothly, fingers lazily tapping against the desk, “like she already knew she’d let him ruin her…”

Your thighs press together instinctively. His gaze drops down and a slow smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

Fuck.

He keeps going.

“He slid his hand higher beneath her skirt,” he says, voice dropping lower now, softer, “touching her soft, luscious thighs, squeezing them, seeing if she would tremble for him again.”

You’re trembling, too. And the asshole notices. You can barely see the mischief in his lips behind the pop filter, but his feline eyes betray him. 

“Yoongi,” you mutter weakly.

“Yeah?” he asks innocently.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Hm.” He adjusts slightly in his chair. “Doing what?”

You can’t even answer because he starts reading again before you get the chance, and now you're 10,000% sure this is punishment for the stupid joke you made about his two friends.

“She tried to stay quiet,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours now instead of the script entirely, “but every sound he pulled from her only got more and more desperate until she couldn't take it anymore...”

Beads of sweat are dappling your neck and you swipe it with the back of your palm.

You shift deeper into the couch, pulse (and something down south) beating wildly as Yoongi watches you with incredible stoicism, like he’s studying exactly how far he can push you before you snap.

And honestly? You’re getting criminally close.

Although your throat is so dry, you lick your lips, waiting with bated breath to hear the next line, when Yoongi pauses, swinging the mic to the side.

“Ah. This line is always tricky,” Yoongi says casually, reaching for a pen to scribble notes onto the script. “But it’s important.”

Your voice comes out weaker than intended. “What is it?”

He lifts his eyes towards you with unmistakable intention.

“Do you think I should say this slower… Like with short breaths in between?” His voice drops immediately into performance mode. “‘Come… for… me…’” Each word is drawn out carefully, breath catching softly between syllables.

Mayday!!!

Your stomach flips violently. 

Then, without missing a beat, his tone changes entirely. 

“Maybe it should be more commanding? Like…” His eyes stay locked on yours, words dripping from his lips like syrup. “‘Come for me.’”

Holy fuck!

You physically feel heat crawl up your neck and choke you like vines. Because both versions work horrifically well. Diabolical how clinical he’s pretending to be about it, like he’s asking for genuine artistic feedback and not saying the exact kind of shit that could ruin your ability to form coherent thoughts for the rest of the night.

You’re staring at him, mouth agape. Maybe this is what he wants in the first place.

Yoongi notices immediately and a tiny smile threatens at the corner of his mouth as he taps a pen lightly against his chin. “Well?”

“I think,” you say carefully, voice embarrassingly thin. “You should stop looking at me when you say things like that.”

He hums, completely unhelpful. “You don’t like it?”

“Yoongi.” You chastise, even though you wish he’d do the things he’s read to you instead of mocking you from two feet away.

“Okay,” he raises both hands up in surrender. “I’ll switch it up.”

You sigh, nostrils flaring as he rifles through the pages of the script like he’s looking for something in particular.

It’s definitely a more subdued scene he decided to read while you take your time to catch your breath, sipping on the water bottle that he handed you earlier.

The sequence is about a couple on a romantic date. Their conversation is cute, the banter reminiscent of a romantic comedy. Soon, you were getting into the plot. You giggle softly at the well written banter. As the couple gets deeper into their night, it becomes apparent that the male character finally wants to make his confession.

Yoongi’s eyes lift from the script and it goes straight to you again.

“The truth is,” he reads quietly, voice gentle, “I knew I was done for when talking to you started becoming the best part of my day. And well, I’m hoping it’s become yours, too.”

You gulp.

Why is he looking at you like that?

Maybe you’re projecting. Maybe you’re reading too much into it. But suddenly it doesn’t feel like he’s reading dialogue anymore. It feels like he’s saying it to you. And if you’re really being honest with yourself? Talking to him has become the best part of your day, too.

So before you can think better of it, you go.

You push yourself off the couch and cross the room in quick strides until you’re standing right in front of him, heart on your sleeve. 

Yoongi’s mouth parts in a cute O-shape and he barely has time to pull the headphones down around his neck before your hands cup his face and your lips press firmly against his.

For one charged second, he goes still.

Then he kisses you back. Hard. Jaw flexing under your nervous hands as he opens his mouth and his tongue immediately finds its way inside, curling against yours.

You taste him, finally, still sweet from the spoonful of honey he had before recording, and the thought you’re savoring the flavor from him makes you spiral.

One hand slides around the back of your neck while the other settles against your waist, pulling you closer until your thighs bump against the arms of his chair. 

“Yoongi, stop…” you straighten. “The chair might give.”

“It won’t,” he says instantly, distracted, already kissing you again before the sentence fully lands. But the chair creaks ominously beneath the shift of your weight and you pull back with wide eyes.

“Couch,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he exhales quickly. “Okay. Fuck.”

The curse slips out under his breath before he’s surging to his feet and your lips collide again, desperate and uncoordinated, because apparently now that you know how it feels, neither of you can wait longer than three seconds without devouring each other.

Yoongi drops onto the cushions, silently urging you over to him. This time, you’re not thinking twice. You straddle his lap, skirt fanning across his pants to hide the utter filth between your legs. 

Slowly you settle down, your core resting against his center, and you think there’s no use being shy now. Not when the moist heat from your panties is sure to seep into his gray sweats. Not when the second your weight presses against him, Yoongi’s head falls back against the couch with a shaky exhale, Adam's apple prominent as he swallows.

So that catches your attention immediately.

Because suddenly he doesn’t look smooth anymore. He looks affected. By you.

Yoongi’s hands spread over your thighs underneath your skirt, glides up towards the curve of your hips before traveling towards your ass, lingering there, squeezing, coaxing you to roll forward.

 “Jesus…” he breathes, eyes falling shut briefly. “You feel so good.”

“Mm.” You moan with a push of your hips.

Fingers pass through your strands before he pulls you back in and your mouths crash against each other. You don’t care that you bump noses, or that your teeth knock accidentally. 

Making out with Yoongi turns pathetically messy fast. Yoongi chases you every time your mouth puckers and parts from his by even an inch. Soft pulls at your bottom lip one second, then sharp, almost bruising pressure the next that the constant switch makes your thoughts come apart. 

His hands roam restlessly along your skin, thumbs stroking slowly over the softness at your waist, fingertips digging gently into your hips. 

After a while, his slick mouth slows down deceptively, before the scrape of his teeth against your plush draws a whine out of you. He passes his tongue over it to soothe the sting, perfectly soft and warm and sinful.

“Been thinking ‘bout this,” he smiles against your lips before moving to kiss the underside of your jaw. “Been thinking about how I’m gonna ruin you.”

Fuck. Yoongi’s good. Too good at this. The way he kisses is making you feel dizzy and the way he touches is making you wild that you don’t realize that you’ve been grinding hard against him until you hear him grunt when the hard tip of his cock pokes your clothed cunt.

Sweat is accumulating on your back, temperature rising between both of you. You briefly wonder why your clothes are still on, but if you’ll be honest, the alternative scares you.

Yoongi’s hands slip beneath your cardigan, easing it off your shoulders carefully before tossing it on the arm rest of the couch. The cool air against your heated skin feels nice at first, until awareness crashes in right after it.

Your arms.

Instinctively, you want to fold into yourself a little, suddenly hyperaware of how big they are uncovered like this. You’ve spent years hiding them beneath sleeves and oversized layers without even thinking about it anymore.

But Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice any of that. Or maybe he does, and simply doesn’t give a shit.

Because the moment more skin is revealed, his attention shifts there immediately, mouth pressing slow kisses along your shoulder like he’s been wanting to do it for a while now. He noses the tender skin under your ear. His hands move carefully over you, unhurried, fingertips grazing your sides with something dangerously close to reverence.

How do people even do this again?!

You can barely remember the last time someone touched you like this. Barely remember how to kiss properly, let alone whatever comes after.

“Y/N.”

You blink.

Yoongi’s looking at you now instead of kissing you, brows drawn slightly together like he noticed the exact second you disappeared into your own head.

“What is it?” he asks quietly.

“I—umm…”

His thumb strokes once against your waist. “Am I doing something wrong? Cos you’re here,” his hand slides lightly up your arm, “but you’re not with me right now.”

The concern in his voice makes shame curl low in your stomach.

“No, no…” You bite your lip hard enough to stop it trembling. “I just…I haven’t done this in a while. I think I forgot how to be good at it.”

Yoongi’s expression softens instantly.

“Baby,” he says gently, like the answer is obvious. “You don’t gotta be anything for me except yourself.”

And somehow, that wrecks you more than all the filthy lines he’s said all night long.

You let out a slow breath and slowly, almost shyly, you’re slipping the straps of your dress down, one shoulder and then the other. Your hands immediately move on top of the bodice cupping your breast to catch it before it falls.

Yoongi wets his lips, eyes transfixed on your chest and a sharp hiss is drawn when you finally push the fabric down to reveal yourself to him.

“Holy shit…” Yoongi catches his breath, takes exactly one second before asking:  “Can I feel them?”

Oh he already looks wrecked. He really is just a man, isn’t he? Heavenly in that white tee, but looking like he’d go through hell just to have you. 

Teeth catching your bottom lip, you nod.

Yoongi’s hands are deliciously big and warm as they cup the underside of your breasts, giving it an enthusiastic squeeze and you feel his dick twitch when he does so.

“You like them?”

He nods greedily. “Fuckin’ love your tits. They feel amazing.”

You gasp when he swipes his thumbs across your nipples, watching your mouth part with every stroke.

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“Yeah…”

It’s becoming genuinely difficult to remember how thinking works. Especially when he dips his head low and sucks your nipple gently, slowly into the heat of his mouth. He looks up and oh lord, you can genuinely come right now. The intensity of his gaze, the pressure against your chest, his teasing nibbles before he wraps his lips around the puffy skin and tugs your nipple with his teeth.

“Oh my god…” you whimper, eyes falling shut as your head tips back and your back arches to push your chest even more towards him.

You slide your nails along the back of Yoongi’s head, keeping him there, scratching his scalp as he continues to lavish your tits.

“Mmm that feels so, sooo good…”

You close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his wet tongue slipping and sliding across your chest. You're indulging in the sounds too, the faint schlup schlup schlup from his repeated suckling, and a soft pop when he releases your reddened nub.

“I can do this all day,” Yoongi says when you finally open your eyes to his smirking mouth. “This okay?” He asks, and you realize he’s referring to the fingers that have migrated underneath your skirt, rubbing your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly.

He hooks your damp panties out of the way and bony digits slide against your warm heat. He groans appreciatively, lower lip going white with how hard he’s biting it. 

It feels real good, and you can’t help but moan when his knuckle bumps against that one spot that holds all your sanity right now.

“You’re already so messy for me.”

“I am,” you admit, suddenly so honest. “I’ve been wet since you started recording.”

“Yeah?” he grins, nodding like that was the plan all along. The little shit. 

“Is that your brand of foreplay?”

“I haven’t really brought anyone here before. You’re the first.” He says, all the while swiping your folds lazily and leaning to kiss the soft spot where your shoulder meets your neck.

Something very pleasant unfurls in your chest.

“Yoongi, please…”

“Please what?”

“Can you make me come now?”

He smiles, all pink gums and a nose scrunch, oddly looking shy and boyish like he’s not knuckle-deep inside your cunt. 

“You want it?”

“Want it so bad.”

“I need to hear you though. I don’t want you all shy and shit…”

You do feel shy, but the moment he wiggles his thumb directly on your clit, you scream, bracing yourself on his biceps for support.

“Oh god.”

“Poor, needy, pretty baby,” he says, planting a quick kiss on your lips. “I got you. Lemme just…” 

Fuck.

He plunges two, maybe three fingers inside your slick hole. You don’t know anymore. You don’t know a fucking thing, because all sane thoughts have left your brain. Maybe permanently. 

“Shit!”

“Ease me in, baby. Don’t rush,” he says.

You whimper a little, swivelling your hips in tiny circles, while Yoongi slowly massages your walls, letting you get used to the intrusion.

All you’re concerned about is riding his skillful fingers, bucking your hips. It doesn’t take long for you to really start grinding against him with more weight, encouraged by each filthy praise spilling out his lips.

“Beautiful,” he says, breath dissolving into the damp skin on your chest. “There we go.”

“Oh my godddd, Yoongi.”

“Your pussy always gets like this or is it just for me?”

“Just for you. You made me so fucking wet.”

You press your forehead against his temple, your lips trembling against his ear. “Can’t wait to have your cock inside me.” You flick your tongue on his lobe, trailing along the cartilage and that makes him buck up once so suddenly, your ass bouncing against his flexed thigh. 

Tears are pricking the edge of your lashes, overwhelmed by all the sensations you haven’t felt in a long, long time. You fuck his fingers quicker now, each pass of his calloused fingertips against your gummy walls brings you closer and closer to your demise. And when he curls it just right to hit that spongy inner crevice, you take two seconds before pleasure explodes from inside of you so forcefully, it coats his palms and your thighs and his pants and oh god, you’re still going…

White noise rings inside your ear drum and the static buzzing through your veins feels almost like your body isn’t your own as you melt against him.

“One more,” Yoongi rasps against your throat, biting your neck and suddenly you’re feral again. Your hips find a life of their own, canting forward, chasing the primal sensations he’s coaxing out of you so effortlessly. 

He flicks your nipple with the blunt tip of his thumb, pleasure so crazy you don’t think you’ve ever been this greedy for someone. You whine like a bitch in heat as you continuously rock against him. God you’re so close you can almost taste it.

And you do taste it, him, when he leans in to kiss you, twirling his tongue against yours, timed with each swirl of his thumb against your swollen clit. 

Your thighs quiver as you feel it coming fast and hard. And finally your second orgasm crashes like a tidal wave, your mouth hanging open as you pour yourself into him.

What.

The.

Hell.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, pressing a gentle peck on your cheek, and his free arm circles your body as you dissolve into him in the aftermath.

“Fuck, that was good,” you giggle into the words, unable to hide your delight.

“Damn right it was.” You finally notice how breathless he’s become.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m probably too heavy.” Warily, you move to the other side of the couch, while Yoongi stays there, legs still spread out as if you didn’t crush him for however long that was.

“Love having you on top of me,” he says, all starry-eyed, licking his fingers as he tilts his head to observe you as you pull the straps of your dress back over your shoulders. 

Your eyes fall to his light-colored sweats and holy shit you made a fuckin’ mess. “Oh my god, I—“

Even before embarrassment can fully settle, Yoongi replies simply and reassuringly. “It’s not all you.”

Wait. Is he saying what you think he’s… No, hold up, because did you just make him...? IN HIS PANTS?

You gawk at him and he winks, still looking positively dazed.

Why is he so fucking hot?

But it's another thought that bubbles up from your throat. “You’re a freak, Yoongi Min.” 

“I am.” He smiles, all watery and satisfied as he reaches for your hand and laces it with his. “We should do this again.”

“I wasn’t aware it had ended.”

The gummy grin that breaks across his face is immediate.

“Bedroom?” you suggest.

“Bedroom.”

He glances toward the recording desk, then his expression changes. "Ah shit."

You follow his glance. "What?" 

Yoongi laughs wryly and looks at you for a second before he comes clean, eyes sparkling. "I forgot to stop recording."

Son of a—

chapter five

A/N: Bitches wassup? Heh. I always appreciate your notes and reblogs, so please leave some love if you enjoyed. It’s the best way you can show your support.

Thank you for reading this you lovely, beautiful human xo

Permanent Taglist: 

@tea4sykes @glossdebut @angellekookie @rottingbedpost @kiki-zb 

@yoonmetogether @wonh0oe @woozuzu @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld

@kimsaerom @kam9404 @00-sleepdontweep-00 @mggv97 @marnz1990 

@tarahardcore @minjenna @aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @vesperbells 

@lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup @futuristicenemychaos @jadestonex7

@granataepfelchen @annyeongbitch7 @chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts

@kpophosblog @tinyelfperson @yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 

@diame93 @withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm- @lilmeowzsworld @minbon 

@sanarin @jimingirl95 @serenadeonacanoe @kittycat1dsn @hanaohreally 

What a long ass day.

Everything that could go wrong, did. You don’t even want to rewind it back, analyze what you could have done differently. Because the point is: today sucked and you just want to move on.

You’re in bed, phone in your hand, duvet pulled up to your waist. You pop your old, beat up Beats earbuds and purely from muscle memory, your thumb presses Echo. 

You’ve been trying other books lately, other writers, other voiceover artists. No reason in particular. You just want to branch out, see and hear what else is out there. 

(Lies!)

Ah fuck it. You had a day from hell and you deserve a treat. Nobody else scratches the auditory itch quite like him and you damn well know it.

You press the last book you were reading—that rivals CEO au—and finally, Agust D’s voice spills into your earbuds. You sigh. God you missed this. Relief and something very warm is pooling low in your belly.

Mr. Jones’s mouth twists into a dark scowl, his brows slashing together like storm clouds gathering before a summer squall. “You always do this,” he growls, the words low and thick with accusation. He shakes his head slowly, as though wounded by her defiance. “You pretend you don’t want it. Pretend you’re not lying awake at night thinking about me.” Scarlet retreats as he advances, each step deliberate, predatory. The air between them crackles. Her heels strike the wooden table behind her with a sharp knock, trapping her. Breath catching, she clutches the edge, knuckles whitening against the polished grain as her pulse thunders in her ears. Scarlet’s breasts are almost spilling from her top as her chest heaves as if she ran a marathon. “I need you. Fuck! I need you so fucking bad! Is that what you want to hear?”

You shift under the covers, irritated at yourself, at the way your body reacts with your brain as an accomplice. You roll onto your side, pressing your face into a pillow, anticipating the emotions from the scene.

Agust D’s voice has the perfect drawl to compliment the tension. You notice his voice drops lower, slower, syrupy with every narration as you go deeper into the charged scene.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, the words roughened by restraint. “I’m right here.” Closer now. Close enough that his breath ghosts over her cheek. “Stop running from me,” he adds, quieter. “If you want me to walk away, say it. If you want me to stay…” His jaw tightens. “Then stop acting like you don’t.” His hand hovers at her waist, trailing higher, grazing the underside of her chest, and stopping there.

You exhale sharply. Squirm. The ghost of nobody’s touch tickling your sides. You tug the blanket higher like it might protect you from your own phantom feelings. 

But it must be too late, because you’re not hearing the voice of the female lead anymore. You’re just imagining the male voice speaking to you, nobody else.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, frustrated at your own ridiculous thoughts. “This is so stupid.”

You reach for your nightstand, almost resentful as you snatch your violet bullet vibrator. By the time you have it nestled in between your silky folds, the scene has moved on to something even spicier.

“You can take your skirt off, baby. And your panties, too,” he says, a slow, victorious smirk curving his mouth as though he’s already won. Scarlet’s chest rises and falls in uneven breaths. The room feels smaller, the walls seems like they’re closing in. Her pulse hammers against her ribs, but her pupils are wide, blown, betraying her. Nerves coil tight in her stomach, yet beneath them flickers something hot.

You swallow.

The vibration pulses through you and you’re starting to feel it. You adjust it, wiggling it closer to your clit. There.

You’re tired. You need the release. You’re getting to the point stat. 

The audiobook plays on—those so bad they’re good lines rolling on—while your little moans echo around the room.

Mr. Jones’ face presses against Scarlet’s puffy pussy lips, his tongue diving in like he has been starving for months. No, years. “You ruin me, baby. The sweetest fuckin’ nectar I’ve ever had,” He says, looking up with hungry eyes and glossy lips from her slick. “All this for me?”

Holy shit. His voice.

Okay, yeah, you need this release now.

You slide the vibrator a little closer to where you feel the most stimulation, a small grunt escaping your lips with that sudden jolt of electricity.

But then, your mind drifts somewhere it absolutely should not.

Because suddenly, the narrator is not a faceless, blurred man anymore. Your brain conjures up images of Yoongi Min. From work!

Fuck fuck fuck. This is JK’s fault! 

Damn him for planting the thought that Yoongi is Agust D. There’s similarities to the voice, sure, but it’s just not feasible.

Though that doesn’t matter right now, because your clouded mind is thinking about Min fuckin’ Yoongi and his pretty face and his pretty hands… That soft-looking mouth... The sexy rasp in his voice... 

Shit.

You pitch forward, breath stuttering, eyes shut.

Doesn’t matter if he’s not Agust D.

Because Yoongi has taken over you anyway–memories of him warping into your lewd thoughts until everything blurs into sensation and heat and the soft, devastating sound of the narrator’s voice layers over your own.

The plot is lost on you now.

The hum in your hand grows unbearable.

Your body tightens, pulse racing, heat coiling—

“Shit!”

You fall apart with a gasp.

Misty-eyed and breathless, you lie there, stunned, as you realize what just happened.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

You yank the earbuds out like they’re burning your skin, roll onto your stomach, and scream into your pillow—muffled, furious, embarrassed beyond belief.

Because you absolutely did not just finish thinking about your coworker. 

You did not just cross that line.

How can you look at him the same way again?

What are you supposed to do now?

You are never listening to that audiobook ever again.

…probably.

Subject: Provincial Site Audit – Schedule & Teams Hi Team, Please be advised that we will be conducting a full-day audit at the Rosewood site this Friday. Call time: 6:00 AM sharp at the main office lobby. Transportation will be provided. Audit Team: Y/N – Lead JK Jeon Chris Lewis Elise Peters Yoongi Min Kindly review the audit checklist in advance and ensure all required materials are prepared prior to departure. Let’s aim for a smooth and efficient visit. But please have fun as well! :)  I look forward to receiving a complete post-visit report at my desk the next day. Best, Steve

6AM call time?!? “Have fun”? This is ass. Absolute ass.

You groan, re-reading Steve’s garbage.

You. The Lead. JK Jeon. Cool. Chris Lewis. Dragon breath. Elise Peters. Jungkook’s gonna be insufferable. Yoongi Min. FUCK!

This is a joke, right? This is fate’s petty little revenge because you… did what you did the other night. God!

You tap in your reply.

I’m unable to join due to other commitments.

You stare at it for a solid three seconds.

[Delete delete delete]

You inhale through your nose like a proper corporate citizen and type instead:

Noted with thanks, Steve. Looking forward to it.

[Send]

A whole day in a van with Agust D. Allegedly.

Great. Fantastic.

Come d-day, you over-prepare. 

First of all, food is your love language. You never ever let people go hungry, not on your watch.

Gimbap is pretty standard for you to prep, so you make several rolls easy: tuna, vegetable, and egg. You roll the seaweed paper with deliberate care, slice everything evenly, wrap them tight so they won’t fall apart. You pack enough for everyone and then some.

Just food for the road.

Then, a bit of self-care. You don’t usually prettify yourself all that much for work, but today your skin felt dry so you decided to plop on an oatmeal sheet mask. You did a lil gua sha massage to clear the face bloat as well. A lip tint, mascara… etc etc. Yeah, your dresser is a disaster at this point.

But looking in the mirror after all of that, you actually feel rather cute. Your waist curves softly into your hips, the contour catching the light just enough to sharpen your cheekbones.

You still feel kinda bloated from the ramyeon you ate last night (bad choice, in hindsight), but honestly? The dress hugs you in the right places.

You give your reflection a small nod. Cute enough.

When you get to the building lobby, you spot Hyunbin, the driver, already waiting by the van outside, hands in his pockets, sunglasses on. 

“Whachu make today?” JK bounds over to you like a kid asking his mom for his recess snack. He’s declared himself to be an avid fan of your cooking since becoming your lunch buddy at work and never misses the chance to eat off of your bento.

“Gimbap, three kinds.”

“Hell yeah,” He nods appreciatively, then makes grabby hands towards your insulated bag so you had no choice but to hand it over.

JK procures Tuna for himself before distributing the pre-packaged rolls to the rest, of course asking them their preference first.

Elise takes vegetable. Chris takes egg (bless his breath).

And Yoongi…

…has just arrived.