#FUCK yoongis fuckin MOUTH in this one

[kithtaehyung]

mami (m) (teaser) | myg/knj

— “then hurry up, mami. gimme one more for luck.”    

title: mami (teaser) pairing: battle rappers!myg/knj x reader(f) , slight jhs x reader(f)😛 rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au  summary: turns out, two of the guys you’ve been hooking up with are battle rappers. and roommates. and the most competitive gd people you’ve ever met.  warnings for fic: [redacted] lmfaooooo🥴🥴🥴  warnings for teaser: cursing, yoongi’s fit, dirty talk, namjoon deserves his own gd warning throughout this whole fic so it’s included in the teaser warnings, too :^))  note: fuuuuuuck me lol. this is also gonna have some heavy 00s vibes so let’s fcking go🦋 est. drop date: jul-aug 2023 est. word count: 15-20k taglist: join here (will be checking blogs!) —18+ teaser below if you want to read :)) drops you right in the middle! minors dni.  

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Weeks go by and you keep your options super open, with the occasional run-in with Yoongi and the strangely refreshing dates with Namjoon. 

As much as you want things to move forward with the latter, he’s kept every meet-up early and short, always checking his phone with pure concentration before heading out. 

Did you think about whether or not he had a girl already? Absolutely. But just being able to have nice dinners and talk was pretty fucking harmless considering. 

If he finally decides to cave in and split you in two, maybe you’ll re-evaluate. But you hope that happens sooner rather than later because you are aching to feel anything he’d give you. 

That and the frustrating fact that he looks more and more attractive with every damn date.

Speaking of attractive things… 

One dingy, smoke-filled event on south side, just as you were cussing someone out for slapping your ass, it was Yoongi that shocked you by stepping in, quietly shielding you and taunting,

“You wanna try that again?”

“Fuck outta here, man. Just having a good time.”

When your surprise of a savior aims one slitted eye over his shoulder, he asks,

“You having fun?”

And your arms fold in calm revenge. “Not with him.”

“Didn’t think so.” Turning back around, Yoongi simply eases, “I’ll let you off this time, but only cus she’s listening.”

Your blink is immediate.

“But I better not see your sorry ass anywhere near her by the time I get on stage.”

Safe to say, it didn’t matter if he saw that guy or not. 

Because he definitely saw you after the show, right before you tugged his stupid tracksuit into the nearest bathroom.

Ever since the first, all your dates with Namjoon have been innocent.

So it sends shivers across your arms when low words slip into your ear. Words so spiced that they cause your thighs to squirm on the cheap vinyl booth you both occupy, 

“I gotta say… I didn’t expect us to talk this much.” 

Breath hitching, you slowly turn, fixated on the veins running down his arms while admiring the way neon lights make rainbows of his chains. Not giving much of your own thoughts away, you simply ask, 

“This time? Or at all?”

“Honestly?” His smile coats you in a layer of warmth. Which is strange considering how frozen you really feel. “I don’t usually do dates.” 

What?

You’ve never moved away so quick. “Wait, really?”

“Oh, shit. Was that bad to say?” 

“No, I”—pure relief juts out of your mouth—“Neither do I.” 

“No fuckin’ way,” Namjoon challenges with a grin, shaking his head when you nod multiple times. “Nah. You can’t tell me your fine ass has never gone out before.” 

“First of all,” you tut, smirking at his true nature coming through, “This ass has been taken out more times than yours.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Flipping your head, you give him a mocking once-over, feigning boredom even though you wanna mount those goddamn thighs and ride them into next Wednesday. “I just don’t waste my time dating.” 

“Then why’d you keep coming?”

“Why’d you keep asking?”

At your coy tone, Namjoon’s smile grows and grows, and you’re enjoying where this is going an obscene, frightening amount. 

Instead of responding, he simply lifts an arm to skirt knuckles right up the front of your dress, finally looping one under the necklace dangling from your neck. When he presses a bold thumb down, you cease breathing as he softly tugs forward, your entire body following without resistance. 

And just as your lips hover against his, he challenges, 

“Cus if I asked you anything else, you would’ve ran.”

Oh, fuck. 

Butterflies scatter at his insinuation, and they fall victim to his honeyed smirk when you taunt, 

“Try me.” 

What the hell is he gonna say? Based on your earlier conversations, you could tell he has a way with words. You don’t have to spell a single thing out for him, that’s for damn sure. 

The look you get is pure sin before he moves to your ear, his mouth hidden from the rest of the bar and hot breath stroking your neck. Anticipation keeps your body fully alert, and yet it still doesn’t prepare you for whatever comes out of this dude’s mouth. 

“Like if you’d ever let me paint those tits.” 

The fuck.

“Or if you’d let me be the first to make you squirt.” 

The fuck?

Your exhale comes out stilted before stuttering out, and your chest physically heaves because—

“What, that’s all it takes to make you shy?” 

Holy shit. You haven’t felt this way in years. 

Truthfully, you can’t even think up an inkling of a response. 

Because the hand on your necklace slides downward, a finger lowering your dress bit. By bit. By bit.

Before letting it spring back with a snap.

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tbc. :)

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💌 l m f a o what do we think!! 💌

A/N: PFFFFFT SO. thank you so much for reading and for all of your support in general. as you can probably tell, i am sweating writing this whole thing if this is what i decide to share as the teaser dklfjdsklf honestly y’all i need all the strength i can muster for these two DEMONS that are haunting the everloving SHIT out of me LMAOOO  ++ taglist:  ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!  ⇥ no emails collected, just put your username and make sure ur age is visible on your blog somewhere so i can see it when i check. ⇥ here!   ++ ⇥ masterlist 

#ah geez do not perceive me LOL #namjoon fic #yoongi fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #teasers #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #*latest #ryenwrites #*ryenfictalk #namgi fic #yoongi x you #namjoon x you #bts #fic:mami

[linos-luna]

Can I request a Yoongi smut with a fem reader.Yoongi is so stressed with working on the album one day he comes home from filming the music video still in his agust d outfit and takes it out on the reader 🥵🥵🥵

Agust d is just 🥵

———————————————————————

Louder ❣️

Hard!Dom!Yoongi x Sub!Fem!Reader

Warnings: oral (male recieving), pain kink, crying, filth, slapping, unprotected sex, rough sex, d/s

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Yoongi sat on the couch, running his hand through his hair with a sigh. He just barely got home from a stressful music video shoot and didn’t even bother to change his clothes or clean his face. You didn’t say anything as you watched from the hallway, but he knew you were there.

“Come here, y/n…” he said, not even turning his head.

You slowly walked over to him and he patted his lap, implying that he wanted you to sit.

Yoongi moved your hair from your face and started kissing you. At first it was soft but then got deeper and sloppier. He bit your lip and inserted tongue; you swore you could taste some blood and moaned at the feeling.

After some sloppy making out, he grabs your chin. “Y/n, I’m so tired today, you know?”

“You look really good.” You said meekly.

“Yeah?” He smirked while kissing and sucking at your neck. You like me dressed up and dirty?”

You only whined at the feeling, tracing your fingers down his chest. “Yes, Master. Agust D…” you giggle.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and suck me off, hm?”

You nodded and before getting up, he suddenly slapped you, it wasn’t that hard but still stunned you. He dramatically cleared his throat and you realized your mistake.

“… yes master!” you quickly say before he pushes you off his lap and you stumble to your knees to undo his pants. You struggled a bit but was finally able to lower his pants. He helped you lower his boxers and pulled out his cock, rubbing it in front of your face.

You soon gave little kitten licks to the tip, making Yoongi groan and pull your hair.

“No teasing you dumb bitch!”

You then took his entire length in your mouth. It was huge and you wanted to get used it. But Yoongi was impatient, he needed relief now.

Your boyfriend grabbed your hair tightly and fucked your throat. It was deep and harsh. You could barely breathe but he loved the sound of it.

“What’s wrong baby?” He grunt. “Cant handle it? I know you can, dumb slut!”

You whimpered and moaned before feeling his hips stutter. You gagged at the feeling and he came in your mouth.

You tried sitting back but Yoongi grabbed your jaw, squishing your cheeks to make your lips part and watch a mix of your spit and his cum drip from your mouth.

“Dirty bitch…” he panted with a devious smile. “So fuckin filthy…”

You didn’t say anything, only deeply breathing as you tried swallowing what you could.

“Answer me!” Yoongi yelled suddenly while giving a harsh slap to the cheek. You stumbled back a little and could barely catch yourself before he kicked you to the floor with his foot.

“Y-yes master!” you gasp as he gets on top of you, pinning you down by the wrists.

He chuckled as he yanked down your pants and nearly ripped off your underwear.

You moaned at the feeling of him teasing your wet cunt, spreading your legs wide, and roughly entered you. You screamed and Yoongi grabbed you by the throat.

“Again! Scream again, bitch!” He said while thrusting harder, bending your legs to a painful point.

You screamed again, panting and nearly crying as he rammed into you. It was painful but weirdly you loved it.

“Again!” He grunted while squeezing your throat lightly. “Louder!”

“Master… Yoongi! Master… Agust D!” you choked in a raspy scream.

“Cum on my dick like the dirty girl you are!” He panted as he was close himself.

You came and he did as well.

Yoongi wiped your tears as he pulled out and lifting you from the floor. He picked up your limp form and brought you to the bed. He laid next to you and you got a bit insecure as you realized you were completely naked as he was only missing his pants and boxers.

Before you could cover yourself, Yoongi softly kissed your lips and stroked your hair.

“Sleep now, baby… you’re so good to me.”

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #fanfic #kpop smut #bts #bts yoongi #yoongi #agust d #bts fic #bts smut #bts x reader #min yoongi #bts suga #min suga #yoongi smut #bts x poc reader #bts x fem!reader #kpop fanfic #kpop x poc reader #kpop angst #kpop boys #bts requests #requests

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 9 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut, angst

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 16k 🙈

contains: explicit sexual content 👀 literally jumps immediately into it (well.... you'll see 🤭) so buckle up!!! also features: hotel drama, reader being v dumb in classic reader fashion but she gets there, a whole lotta tension and angst and misplaced anger, some new friends!!! and yes they're 3 idols see if you can figure out who 🤪, erotic bed sharing and handholding lmfao, probably the most drinking that has happened in a chapter yet (which is saying a lot honestly), of course the GRAMMY RESULTS.... oh yeah and yoongi in glasses, yoongi in a suit, yoongi playing piano, yoongi almost getting in a fight, yoongi rapping, yoongi WEARING CAT EARS (yes these are all warnings!!!!!! 😩) - ok and here are ur smut specific warnings: semi-public sex (mile high club anyone ✈️), cunnilingus, fingering, sex dreams, nipple play, dirty talk, reader has a voice kink 🥴, clit stim, unprotected sex AGAIN 💀, she squirts again don't @ me lmao, aaaaand some lovely mouth/throat fuckin 🫡

A/N: i feel like i have nothing to say that isn't just overwhelming gratitude to you all for being here 🥺 so i'll keep it short!!! sit back and get comfy bc this one's a lot, here we go y'all..... you ready?? 💜

A/N 2: as of 5/27, this chapter has been updated to remove the instances of anti-asian discrimination. i want to expressly state how sorry i am to those who were hurt or otherwise upset by the original content. please know that i mean it when i say i am fully committed to listening and doing better moving forward. 💜

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for their help betaing!!!

read on AO3!

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

~*~

You don’t know how you let Yoongi talk you into this.

You honestly can’t remember, at least not right now, not with your ass perched on the edge of the sink counter and his hands making quick work to tug your sweats and underwear down and off, one ankle at a time.

The place is cleaner than any airplane bathroom you’ve ever been in, and certainly much less cramped. First class really spares no expense, you’ve learned. It’s an upgrade Yoongi made for both of you at the check-in counter unprompted, his only explanation mumbled into the rim of his iced Americano once you’d settled at a table in the fancy lounge: “Economy seats fuck my back up, and I figured if I left you behind you’d push me into LA traffic at your first opportunity.”

You might still do it, if only because he’s managed to convince you to do this again. Weren’t you supposed to be mad at him?

“I’m starting to think you have a bathroom fetish,” you murmur, not quite managing to keep your voice steady. Your fingers rake through Yoongi’s long dark hair as he situates himself properly on his knees between your legs, his hands pressing your thighs to spread you wider.

“Are you complaining?” he grunts back, and you lose the ability to form a coherent response as he leans in and traces his tongue up your folds.

You nearly bang your head on the mirror with the way your spine instinctively arches at the feeling, your hips tilting up for as much of his mouth as you can get.

“Shit,” you hiss as he starts to fuck the muscle of his tongue into your entrance, his thumb swiping up through your wetness before settling into rough circles over your clit. “Why are you so fucking good at this?”

Once he’s thoroughly tasted you, Yoongi quickly replaces his tongue with his fingers, flexing against your front wall at a brutal pace, like he’s realized you can’t take too long in here. His lips close around your clit as his tongue laps over it in thick strokes, and your hips circle hungrily, grinding on him.

“That’s it,” he pulls off just enough to gasp. “Ride my face. Wanna make you come so I can fuck this tight little pussy.” Just the rough tone of his voice is nearly enough to send you over the edge.

When his lips and tongue return to your cunt, you don’t hold back.

You fist the hand tangled in his hair, your other palm smacking flat to the counter for balance as you throw a leg over his shoulder, and you swear you can hear him laughing while you press your heel into his back to pull him even closer. His mouth is warm and wet and divine, the way he licks and sucks at your throbbing clit overwhelming. He strokes his fingers deftly into your g-spot, working up enough arousal that it’s started to run down the crux of your thighs. You roll your hips again and gasp at the way his tongue drags just right over you.

“Oh god, Yoongi,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut, too lost in it to worry about being quiet. You can feel it as he keeps his tongue laid out flat for you to use as you please. Everything in you pulls tight as you rut yourself against his face in time to the building pressure worked up in your core by his unrelenting fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

The plane dips sharply, and you lurch upright with a gasp as your eyes snap open. There’s a few more seconds of shuddering bumps, and then you seem to find clear skies again.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you sit back and try to steady your breathing, the world slowly coming into focus: the TV screen in front of you, your purse tucked into the shelf beneath it, beige privacy walls surrounding you on all sides.

Fuck. You lean forward, letting your head drop between your knees as reality sinks in. You’re not in the bathroom. You’re in your stupid first-class seat. It was a dream. A fucking airplane sex dream.

Panic carves through you like a knife as questions bubble up in your mind: What if you said something in your sleep? Did Yoongi hear you? Is he sitting on the other side of the wall with that fucking smirk on his face, endlessly smug in the knowledge that he haunts you even in your dreams?

Immediately convinced that he is, you can’t help yourself. You press your hands flat to the divider between you and just barely lift out of your seat so you can peek over it.

But Yoongi looks entirely unchanged from the last time you saw him several hours earlier: he’s got his headphones on and is slouched over his laptop, frowning down at the screen, thoroughly engrossed in work.

Just as you’re breathing a sigh of relief, he glances up, and your eyes widen.

“Can I help you?” he grunts, not even bothering to pull his headphones off. You don’t think it’s a double entendre, but you don’t want to entertain him long enough to find out.

“No,” you snap, and then you slump back down to the safety of your seat, slamming the controller on the wall until you’re fully horizontal. You tug the provided headphones over your ears, hoping they might block out your racing thoughts as you desperately try to ignore the dull ache between your legs.

~*~

Getting any more sleep proves to be an impossible task, your mind too keyed up at the possibility of another airplane bathroom dream. By the time you make it through the rest of the flight, and customs, and the car ride to your hotel, you’re nearly delirious with exhaustion, and your body is thoroughly confused about what fucking time it is, though your phone says it’s apparently the middle of the night.

Your brain feels like it’s been in a blender, your reaction time so slowed that, standing at the hotel check-in counter, it takes you several seconds to process the words leaving the front desk agent’s mouth.

She must be able to read the dumbfounded look on your face, because she repeats herself. “King bed executive suite for three nights?”

“Um, no,” you finally manage to stammer, and though he makes no discernible noise of reaction, it’s like you can feel Yoongi smirking over your shoulder. “No, we need— I booked a room with two queens.”

The agent purses her lips slightly, then shakes her head as she stares down at her computer. “Mm, I’m seeing in the system that we have you down for one king.”

Your exhaustion steamrolls over whatever professionality you might normally have while conducting a business transaction. “I don’t care what your fucking system says, it’s wrong. That’s not what I booked.” Scrolling through your phone for a few seconds, you manage to dig up the email, and you’re almost more compelled to show it to Yoongi, just to make sure he’s well aware— you did not fuck this up.

“See, two queens,” you reiterate helplessly as you extend the receipt on your phone toward the agent.

She tuts once, her eyes barely glancing over at your phone before returning to her computer screen. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like we have any availability to switch you. Given the Grammys are on Sunday, this is quite a busy weekend for us.”

You set your phone on the counter and try to keep your breathing steady, to remain calm despite the overwhelmed panic starting to rise in your chest.

“About that,” you say, doing your best to speak in an even voice. “We wanted to keep a low profile, but my… associate here is actually a nominee. For Song of the Year?” You hate that it comes out more like a question as your gaze flits to Yoongi for the briefest of seconds, then back to the front desk agent. “So, really, if there’s anything at all you could do, we would appreciate it.”

There’s a pause as she regards you for a moment, her lips pressed into a tight smile, and then she speaks again. “I really do apologize, but a mistake on your part does not constitute an emergency on ours. No matter who the accommodation is for.”

It takes a second for your jetlag-addled brain to process the words, and their direct contrast to the forced sunny expression on her face. If you were in a better state of mind you might be able to take a breath, state your case more calmly, or figure out some other alternative, but instead all you can manage is a knee jerk reaction.

Because you can’t be in a room with Min Yoongi and only one bed.

“Are you fucking kiddin—”

“Hey.” 

A hand pressed to your bicep nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Despite every cell in your body urging you to lunge over the counter, you don’t fight it when Yoongi pulls you back a few paces, giving enough room for him to take your place at the counter.

“It’s fine,” he mutters over his shoulder.

It feels like your heart is beating a mile a minute, enough that you can hardly keep up with the soft apology he concedes to the agent. She hands him the room keys without another word, that same fake smile still plastered over her face. With one last nasty look over your shoulder, you follow Yoongi toward the elevators, dragging your suitcase along behind you.

Practically seething, you can barely manage to wait until the doors slide shut before you pounce.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I did not fucking book a single bed room.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs wearily, eyes fixed on the overhead number as it counts up to your floor. “I just want to sleep. Whatever that was about to turn into wasn’t worth the trouble.”

The doors slide open with a soft chime, and you storm after him down the hall to your room as he continues, pressing the key to the reader and pushing the door open. “Besides, I've stayed here before, and I know these suites have couches.” He holds the door and gestures for you to enter first, and you do.

He's not wrong: there’s a small living room area with a sofa, a desk, and a television mounted into a wall that effectively separates it from the bedroom on the other side, though there isn’t actually a door. The bathroom is immediately to your left as you step inside.

“So,” Yoongi says simply as the door shuts behind him. “I'll take the couch. All good.”

Of fucking course.

The rational part of your brain knows that he has done nothing to upset you. He's been quiet and polite on your long day of travel, and is treating you simply as if you were business acquaintances. It all makes perfect sense, given that you told him your night at his apartment couldn’t mean anything. He's done everything you’ve asked of him, really.

And yet it’s all of it: your stupid sex dream, the lingering bad taste of your encounter with the hotel agent, and the fact that Yoongi can’t seem to even fathom the idea of sharing a bed with you, not here and certainly not at his apartment. Everything has you simmering with a sudden vicious, unreasonable anger.

“Do whatever you want,” you snap as Yoongi sets his suitcase down on the floor of the living room. “I don’t give a shit.”

The rage burns like acid in your gut as you move through your night routine in the bathroom, and it’s only worsened by the knowledge that your alarm will be going off in just a few hours, and you’ll have to drag yourself through a long day of press and prep for Sunday. And that Yoongi will be there, through all of it, just like he’s on the other side of the door right now, inescapably and overwhelmingly present.

It doesn’t make sense to you how he can somehow manage to be too distant and too close at the same time. As you spit toothpaste into the sink, you wonder why the fuck you ever agreed to go on this stupid trip.

~*~

You don’t think you manage more than ten minutes of sleep the whole night. Despite exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, you toss and turn and kick at the blankets, too frustrated by all the confusing feelings churned up inside of you to be able to slip into any kind of real rest.

When you glance at the clock for the millionth time, it’s now only thirty minutes until your alarm is due to go off. With a sigh, you decide to give up.

Your mind is already racing with the schedule for the day, and you go over it a million times in your head as you shower and dress and apply your makeup. When you emerge from the bathroom already entirely put together, Yoongi is on the couch blinking blearily at his phone, clearly having just woken up.

“The car will be here at seven,” you call over your shoulder without a second glance back at him.

He grunts his acknowledgement, and after a few moments you hear the sound of the bathroom door sliding shut again. You dig your work laptop out of your purse to double-check everything, and before you know it you’re sucked into confirming specifics and answering emails, and you completely lose track of time.

The sound of Yoongi clearing his throat snaps you back to reality, and you shut your laptop as you glance up to find him standing in the threshold of the bedroom. He’s dressed nicely for his many interviews, in a sky-blue button-down, and you have to blink twice as you take in his appearance.

“You wear glasses?”

The warm lamplight of the bedroom reflects off his lenses as he shrugs. “I don’t like to. But I forgot my contacts.”

“We can stop for some on the way to your fitting,” you answer, adding it to your mental to-do list. The reminder of your booked itinerary is enough to get you to your feet, one arm wrapped around your laptop to press it close to your chest. Trying to remember what else you need to do to get ready proves impossible as Yoongi steps closer, and then you hear him laugh softly under his breath.

“Wow, glasses? Really?”

“What?”

“You have that look on your face,” he says simply, and you can feel an embarrassed heat creep up your neck. You hate that after all this time, he can still read you like a book.

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He continues to close the distance between you, and you take a reflexive step backward, only for your thighs to bump against the mattress behind you. “Would’ve worn these more often if I knew they’d get you all flustered.”

You attempt to argue that you’re not flustered, but the words die on your tongue with the realization of how close Yoongi is to you now. His eyes are fixed pointedly on your mouth. “I—” you try again, your voice breaking slightly. “I’m not—”

The sharp buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand makes both of you start, and it’s like you can think clearly again when Yoongi steps back to give you room to grab it. You thumb open the text with one hand as you shove your laptop into your purse with the other. “They’re downstairs.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else to you until you’re in the car, crawling through Los Angeles traffic. “Remind me what all we’re doing today?”

You stare out the windshield, not wanting to meet his gaze as you recount the schedule that’s permanently seared into your brain. “You have press interviews in Studio City all morning until one. We’ll pick up lunch— and we can grab you some contacts, too— and then you have a fitting in Beverly Hills at two. After that, your boss wants us to tour the office out here and take a few meetings with the team, so that’ll be the rest of the afternoon. And then I guess whenever we’re done with that, the label execs want to take us to dinner after.”

He’s silent for long enough that you’re forced to glance over at him, wondering if he was even paying attention. There’s a small smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite read as smug. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Huh,” Yoongi finally remarks.

“What?” you snap in response, probably a little harsher than he deserves, but you haven’t had coffee yet.

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “It’s just funny, compared to when you first started.” He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting back slightly in his seat. “I remember when you couldn’t even use Outlook.”

You narrow your eyes in his direction. “I guess people change.”

“Guess so.”

The day passes in a hectic blur, and though ostensibly all of your scheduled engagements are meant to be about Yoongi, you find yourself just as busy as he is, if not moreso.

His press interviews run long because of course they do, and you’re forced to drop him at his fitting while you run out to pick up lunch and contacts— and most importantly, more coffee, which you desperately require to survive the rest of the day.

You’re admittedly thankful for the extra tasks. Even if you do feel dead on your feet, it’s still preferable to sitting around and watching Yoongi try on a suit. You can easily recall firsthand how deadly the image is, and putting off that suffering until the real thing tomorrow is perfectly fine, as far as you’re concerned.

The coffee gives you just enough of a caffeine boost to power through your afternoon meetings, reviewing branding strategies and opportunities for collaborative promotions with the label’s overseas team. Your heart sinks a little when you go through the marketing summary slides prepared by Jungkook, not a single detail out of place, and you try to shove thoughts of him to the back of your mind so you can focus on the work.

At dinner, it’s all you can do to not fall asleep over your extremely overpriced sashimi. Yoongi’s been pulled away to the far side of the table for what you can only assume are deeply boring conversations with the Los Angeles production team. Thankfully, your side is a bit more lively.

“Matthew,” the A&R rep who you’re pretty sure introduced herself as Tiffany stage-whispers. You realize she’s speaking to the tall and ridiculously built guy seated next to you when her gaze flits up to him, and then she resumes poring over the extensive drink menu. “Can we get sake bombs?”

“Why are you asking me?” Matthew responds, and you look over to see his face scrunched up in confusion.

“You’re in finance! I need you to tell me that I can get white-girl wasted on the label’s dime tonight.”

He sighs for a moment, like he’s trying to think. “I don’t… actually know if we’re allowed to reimburse that.” Tiffany’s lower lip trembles, dangerously adorable, and he exhales as if he’s been defeated. “Fuck it. I’ll cover it out of pocket if we can’t.”

“God, I love you,” she breathes, chasing the comment with a throaty laugh and quickly flagging down a server to order. “Can we please do thr— Vernon, baby, how old are you?”

The intern seated next to her blinks slowly. “Twenty four?” You’re pretty sure those are his first words of the evening.

“Huh. Your skincare’s doing wonders,” Tiffany shakes her head disbelievingly. “Four sake bombs, please?”

They arrive in an instant, and Tiffany smiles proudly to herself as she balances her shot glass on a pair of chopsticks laid across the top of her beer. You follow Matthew and Vernon’s lead as they set their drinks up to mirror hers.

“To Matthew’s wallet,” Tiffany toasts solemnly. “The only thing bigger than his tits.”

As if in hearty agreement, Matthew bangs his fist against the table so hard it makes everyone in a five foot radius flinch, and all four of your shot glasses plummet into the awaiting beers beneath them.

“Kanpai, motherfuckers!” Tiffany cackles, and you throw your drinks back in perfect sync.

The rowdiness of your corner is too loud to be ignored, and your stomach twists slightly as you set your empty glass down only to catch Yoongi staring from across the table. When your eyes meet his, he quickly lowers his gaze and adjusts his glasses, his mouth pulling into a flat line.

You turn back to your new friends as Tiffany finishes her own drink. As if she just witnessed the silent exchange, she leans toward you.

“So,” she drops her voice a little lower, “What’s it like working with Suga?”

Doing your best to keep your face neutral, you inhale deeply, wondering where to begin, or what would even be workplace-appropriate to say. The jetlag makes your mind move that much slower. “It’s—”

“Oh my god,” she immediately interrupts you. “You’re sleeping with him.”

Vernon nearly spits the last swallow of his drink back out.

“Tiffany,” Matthew interjects, sounding exhausted, like this is a regular occurrence. “Don’t fucking say that to someone you just met.”

“I mean,” you concede, your lips loosened by the warm rush of alcohol. “She’s not wrong.”

Matthews eyes widen, and he purses his lips for a long pause before he finally speaks. “Shiiiiiit, okay. Alright then.”

You sigh, slumping to rest your cheek in your hand, so exhausted that you can barely stay upright. “I don’t know if ‘sleeping with’ is the right term. It’s just a… mistake that we’ve made. A few times. Several, I guess.”

“I bet he’s even richer than Matthew,” Tiffany says, awestruck, clearly more to herself than to you.

“If it’s a mistake, why do you keep making it?” Vernon asks bluntly.

“Damn, Vernon with the deep cut,” Matthew remarks, and you shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, your words running together slightly. “I’m just trying not to think about it, at least not while we’re on this stupid work trip.”

All three of them nod like they understand, and then Tiffany leans in again. “Let me guess: there’s only one bed in the hotel room.”

“Please ignore her.” Matthew sounds as tired as you feel.

“Yes!” you exclaim, your anger from the night before temporarily reigniting. “The hotel fucked our room up, and the lady wouldn’t fix it because she was a fucking bitch—”

“Naturally,” Vernon interjects.

“And even though we only have one bed, he chose to take the couch. Like, that’s where we’re at.”

“That’s sweet,” Tiffany murmurs, and you make a face.

“Is it?”

“He’s being respectful. I bet he doesn’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable, or like… pressured. ‘Cause sleeping with somebody is a world of difference from… sleeping with them, you know?”

You roll your eyes. “Or he wants to be as far away from me as possible, even while sleeping.”

“If I was the one nominated for a Grammy, I’d make you take the couch,” Vernon scoffs around a piece of edamame.

“Right?” Matthew chimes in. “Ain’t no way I’m getting good sleep on a hotel couch. Them things are like fuckin’ cement blocks.”

A yawn escapes you before you can manage to stifle it, and you press a hand to your mouth, suddenly overwhelmed from exhaustion as well as the conversation. You scoot your chair back from the table to stand and politely excuse yourself to the restroom.

“You gotta cool it with that shit, Tiff,” you hear Matthew mutter as you depart.

Your mind swims while you traverse the long back hallways of this bougie restaurant. It’s almost laughable now, but you really never thought to give Yoongi the benefit of the doubt for sleeping on the couch— not here, and not at his apartment.

You’re still so used to expecting the worst from him that you’ve just assumed the intention is laced into his every action. Even the nice things have felt like a cause for concern, like a reason to keep your guard up, small gestures meant to distract you so he can get the upper hand, somehow. It’s hard to shake the idea that he’s your enemy, even after everything that’s happened.

And yet you can’t help wondering if Tiffany is right. Is Yoongi really just being… respectful? And if so: what does he want? And how does he feel? You’re torn between wanting to know and hoping you never find out.

A voice saying your name drags you out of your thoughts. You turn back just shy of the restroom door, unable to stop another yawn from slipping out, and you bring a hand to your mouth to hide it. Your eyes widen as your brain works on a delay to process the familiar voice, then the sky-blue shirt and the dark framed glasses. It distantly occurs to you that Yoongi has you all alone in this fancy hallway.

You blink a few times, willing the weight of sleepiness out of your eyes, then finally respond with the first thing you can think of. “I’m not fucking you in the bathroom, Yoongi.”

He blinks right back at you, clearly not expecting that. “I… wasn’t asking you to.”

“What do you want then?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I—” he sighs, and you can’t help but wonder if he suddenly regrets coming after you. “You’re tired.”

“Yes, because I barely fucking slept. And?”

You tell yourself that you’re just imagining the way his voice has softened slightly. “Dinner’s over. We don’t have to stay. They’ll get it.”

“I’m having fun,” you retort. “I made friends.”

“I saw,” he remarks, not quite able to hide his smirk.

“So please, don’t cut your boring producer conversation short on my behalf,” you continue dryly.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, to your surprise. “Yeah, it’s brutal. I’d much rather be sleeping.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Or doing sake bombs.”

The question rushes out before you can second guess if it’s a good idea to ask. “How did you sleep? On the couch?”

Yoongi shrugs, then rubs a hand at the back of his neck, making a face as if you’ve put him on the spot. “Like shit.”

You nod, your gaze dropping to the carpeted floor. “Well, I mean. Maybe it would make more sense if, uh—”

“’Scuse me—” a new voice causes your head to snap up again, and you take a step away from Yoongi as Tiffany slips between the two of you, moving quickly toward the women’s restroom.

“Sorry love, I have to break the seal!” she calls over her shoulder before the door slams shut.

The interruption is enough to make you swallow your suggestion, and Yoongi reaches into his pocket for his phone.

“I’ll call a car, because I’m tired,” he murmurs defensively. “You’re welcome to get your own later, if you want to stay out—”

“I don’t,” you say firmly. “It’s fine. Just tell me when the car’s here.” Before Yoongi can so much as respond, you shoulder the bathroom door open and fast-walk to the safety of a stall.

After breaking your own seal, you make your way out to a sink, and you’re a little taken aback to find Tiffany still there waiting for you. She’s hovering over the mirror, blotting at her forehead with a paper towel.

“I wanted to apologize if I came on too strong,” she says softly as you turn on the tap. “Matthew says my mind-reading abilities can be intimidating to people who don’t know me well.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s cool. You remind me of my best friend.”

“The highest honor there is,” she says with a knowing nod. When she turns to fully face you, shifting to rest her hip on the sink as you dry your hands, you have a feeling there’s more coming.

“So, can I be honest?”

“Go ahead,” you say, suddenly a little nervous.

“I know I just met both of you today, but— the way Suga was looking at you? Girl. He’s not taking the couch because he wants to.”

You smile politely at her reflection, and her eyes narrow. “I know you don’t believe me, and you don’t have to. Matthew doesn’t believe that he’s in love with me either, but we both have Leo Moons, so obviously we’re each waiting for the other person to cave first.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “Which is fine for us, but all I’m saying is, if you want something, there’s really nothing wrong with asking for it.”

The urge to shut her down is strong. It’s slightly unnerving to feel like a relative stranger is peering into your soul. “You make it sound easy,” you murmur with a dry laugh. “I don’t think bed-sharing is part of our… arrangement.”

Tiffany preens a little more in the mirror, deftly flipping her curtain of dark hair over one shoulder. “Maybe it’s not supposed to be, but trust me on this one. He won’t say no. And if he does, I owe you a sake bomb.”

A genuine smile blooms across your face, and it only widens when she holds up her pinky finger. You lock yours around it for a single shake. “Deal.”

Arm-in-arm with Tiffany, you return to your corner of the table, where she entertains you by bullying Matthew into buying another round of drinks while he groans about burning a hole in his pocket.

“If it helps,” you giggle, “I’m about to head out. So make it three instead of four.”

“Thank god,” Matthew breathes a sigh of relief. “This girl is so damn expensive.”

Tiffany pauses with a spoonful of matcha gelato— also ordered on Matthew’s dime— halfway to her mouth. “I literally have a Leo stellium, what the fuck do you expect?”

While they continue to bicker, your gaze floats down the table. You wonder if Tiffany’s mind-reading powers might be catching as your eyes land on Yoongi just in time for him to look up from his phone and meet your gaze. He nods his head once toward the entrance, and you nod back.

A shoulder bumps into yours, and you turn to see Tiffany subtly shoot you a thumbs-up. “Fighting!” she murmurs under her breath, and you laugh as you get to your feet and bid everyone goodnight.

Yoongi holds the door of the restaurant for you to exit first, then follows you into the large black car waiting for you on the curb.

The drive back to the hotel gives you just enough time to immediately talk yourself out of Tiffany’s suggestion. The thought of asking for what you want feels like a trap, like displaying weakness to the one person who could hit you hardest. Besides, what if she misread Yoongi entirely? She doesn’t know him at all, and has no idea of the way things are between you. It’s a terrible idea, you decide.

So you find yourself right where you were the night before, like a bad dream you can’t wake up from: face washed, teeth brushed, tossing and turning in a bed far too large for one person. You can feel your final thread of resistance snap clean in half as you angrily kick the blankets off, then get to your feet and storm into the living room.

Yoongi is still up, peering down at his phone screen on the couch, his glasses deposited atop the coffee table.

“You’re being stupid,” you huff, and he glances up, clearly not expecting the interruption.

“I am?”

“You’re going to the Grammys tomorrow,” you say, as if that will explain anything.

“So are you,” Yoongi counters.

“Well yeah, but nobody’s going to give a shit about me.”

“I’d argue that’s also true for me,” he murmurs dryly, then squints at you. “Sorry, why am I stupid?”

“Because you’re going to sleep terribly on this couch.”

Yoongi nods once. “Probably, yes.”

You sigh, because of course he’s going to drag this out of you. “And the bed is perfectly big enough for two people. We wouldn’t even be touching or anything. So…” Fuck, saying what you want is hard. “Can you just… stop being stupid?”

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, and you’re surprised when that trademark cocky smirk doesn’t spread across his face. If anything, he just seems hesitant as he slowly sits up. “You’re sure?”

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling exposed like this, standing in front of him in only your thin sleep clothes. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth just barely pulls up, so slight you could be imagining it. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

In the bedroom, you leave the lamp at the empty side of the bed switched on, then crawl back under the sheets on your side. Heat blooms in your face as you press your cheek to the cool pillowcase, purposefully facing out, then reach one arm up to turn off your own bedside lamp.

True to his word, a few minutes later you hear the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s steps across the carpet, then feel the shift of the mattress as he slips into bed on his side. He fumbles on the nightstand with what must be his glasses and his phone, and then you hear the click of the light, and the room disappears into darkness.

There’s a rustle and a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, and you were right: the two of you can easily share the bed without touching, plenty of space on the mattress between you.

Even so, having him closer is somehow… better. Comforting. You try not to dwell too much on it.

Flipping over onto your back, you stare up at the infinite black of the ceiling above you, your eyes already starting to weigh heavy. You don’t know where the question comes from, or why you ask it.

“Are you nervous?”

When he answers, Yoongi sounds half-asleep, too. “About what?”

“The Grammys?”

“Oh.” There’s a stirring sound, and then he speaks, like he’s just remembered you can’t see him shrugging. “I don’t know. A little.”

The only reply you’re capable of is a soft hum, and now you really can’t keep your eyes open. You curl up on your side again, cheek smushing into the pillow, and your consciousness whirs up one last coherent thought before you fully slip under: What else would he be nervous about?

~*~

You wake up to the warm glow of morning beneath your eyelids, and when you blink them open, the room is lit soft, dappled in sunlight that has managed to sneak between the thick hotel curtains. It’s warm in this bed too, and comfortable, and you sigh quietly to yourself as you stir a little under the covers. With a stifled yawn, you move to turn onto your back, and it’s only when you meet a gentle resistance that you realize why you’re so warm.

Yoongi must just be waking up too, because you immediately feel his body start at the realization that he pulled you close at some point during the night: an arm thrown over your waist, his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice low and rough with sleep. “Sorry.” As the mattress starts to shift behind you, you respond on pure physical instinct and close your hand around Yoongi’s wrist.

“Stay.” The word comes out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

Yoongi’s response is a soft grunt, and a bolt of panic quickens your pulse. You’re suddenly worried he might not want to stay, that he might even laugh at you for thinking you could have it like this, wrapped in his arms and waking up slowly. The furthest thing from hatred— and isn’t that what this is supposed to be?

But then his grip tightens to pull you that much closer, and he wordlessly presses his face into the crook of your neck. Your heart flutters in your chest, sweet and terrified. The heat of his breath over your skin makes you lean into him instinctively, and when your hips tilt, you can feel the unmistakable bulge of his clothed cock against your ass.

“God,” Yoongi groans. The deep gravel of his voice is enough to tighten your nipples beneath your tank top. “You make me so fucking hard. Dreamt about fucking you in this bed.”

“We woke up early,” you murmur. “So. There’s time.”

He grunts a low note in response. You can already feel the thin material of your sleep shorts growing wet between your legs as you slowly grind your hips back on him. 

Yoongi’s hand slips up your body, fingertips dragging over the fabric of your top until his palm is pressed to the column of your throat. You inhale softly, your head tipping up to allow him better access. His grip just barely tightens, and when he speaks in your ear, you can hear the smile around his words. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me, Yoongi,” you breathe. “In this bed.”

When you repeat his words back to him, Yoongi exhales a laugh, and then you feel him press a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Something melts open inside of you at the brush of his lips, a sudden rush of an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. Something you certainly never expected to feel with Min fucking Yoongi, of all people.

He releases his hold on your throat, and his hand makes short work of slipping the straps of your tank top off your shoulders, then yanking the loose fabric down to expose your tits. You shiver a little at the morning air against your bare skin.

Yoongi’s palm closes around one of your breasts, lazily massaging it, and you rut your ass back on him with a small whimper. The heat of his mouth trails more kisses up your neck, and then his deep voice is in your ear again.

“Did you sleep okay?” He pairs the question with his thumb dragging circles over the stiff bud of your nipple, earning another soft noise from you.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond. “Better than the first night.”

He hums against the shell of your ear, the timbre of his rough voice setting every last one of your nerve endings alight. Overcome with desire, you can barely focus on his words as his hand traces along your waist to slip down the back of your shorts.

“Me too. So much better than the fucking couch.”

Two of his fingers tease over your slit, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh at how wet he finds you, how turned on you already are. When he swipes between your folds to circle at your entrance, you can hear your own slickness, chased with a soft noise of appreciation that escapes Yoongi’s mouth as he plunges both digits into your pussy. You can’t help but moan, too.

He could easily make you come just like this, but you want him too much.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, twisting slightly to reach a hand behind you. You trace down the hard muscles of his stomach, apparent even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, until your palm drags along the thick outline of his cock straining beneath his boxer briefs. He’s so hard that he pulses under your touch, and you’re sure he must be able to feel the way your pussy flutters at the thought of this cock filling you up.

“Needy,” he purrs, his mouth against your neck.

“Shut up,” you answer automatically, not quite able to keep your voice steady with the way he’s fucking his fingers into you.

But Yoongi doesn’t torment you— you only have to give his clothed length one slow pump before his hands are pushing your shorts over your legs, like he can’t get them off fast enough. You kick them the rest of the way off while he works his boxers down, and then you arch back as his cock starts to tease your pussy lips apart.

He slips easily through your folds, painting you both in a mixture of pre-cum and arousal as he grinds himself over the whole of your slit. You bite back a moan when the head of his dick rubs up to your clit, smearing wetness there in steady strokes that make you gasp and writhe.

“Can I go raw again?” he asks so softly in your ear, and your cunt throbs as you whimper your consent.

It’s impossible to keep quiet now, not with how perfectly his cock pushes into you, stretching you open to take him. You press your face into the pillow to slightly muffle your sounds, and you can hear Yoongi groan behind you.

“Fuck,” he hisses roughly. “You’re ruining me. I may never be able to go back to condoms.”

“Yoongi,” you whine as he sheathes himself fully with a grunt of effort, giving you a few moments to adjust before he moves. “If you keep fucking talking in my ear with your morning voice like that—” your own voice breaks off mid-sentence as he drags his cock out just to fuck it back into you, and you have to take a breath before trying again. “I’m gonna come in five seconds.”

When he presses his mouth to your shoulder, you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Is that right?” The low rumble of his question buzzes through you, and your walls tighten around him in response. “You like it that much?”

You can barely remember how to form words with the way he’s started to thrust, the head of his cock sparking hot pleasure each time he rubs himself over the ridges of your front wall. “What if I do?”

Yoongi hums into the crook of your neck, purposefully drawing the sound out to make a shiver run up your spine, and you can’t help moaning. His hand slips between your thighs to nudge them apart, and you’re easily pliant for him, spreading yourself at his guidance so his fingers can find your clit.

“I’d tell you how fucking good you look like this,” he murmurs against your skin. “How well you take my cock.” You roll your hips in time with his strokes, and his free arm slips between your shoulder and the bed to wrap around your chest, giving him leverage to fuck you harder.

“Oh my god.” You nearly choke on your words as he pounds into you, unrelenting now, and your fingertips claw desperately at the pillow beneath your head.

“Pussy’s always so fucking tight, shit,” he groans. “Should’ve just done this the whole weekend. Don’t know how I even let you leave the room.”

Your feet flex helplessly against the bedsheets as Yoongi’s hand rubs a steadily building pressure into your core that threatens to overflow. His fingers move in tight circles over your clit like he knows your body well— which, you guess, he does. The thought of him keeping you here all weekend, tangled up in these sheets, fucking you senseless and making you come again and again and again is dizzying, enough to make your pussy start to pulse around his length.

“Yoongi,” you gasp. “Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

His lips brush over your shoulder, his voice stilted by how roughly he’s fucking into you. “Yeah, come on this cock. Make a mess for me.”

The pleasure is so overwhelming you almost want to squirm away from it, but then his fingers press your clit just right to snap a final thread and send you over the edge. Your thighs shake violently as your climax rips through you, and a rush of fluid squirts out of your cunt to coat the length of his dick and soak a wet spot into the sheets.

Yoongi groans unabashedly at the sight, still fucking you through the waves of your orgasm, his thrusts slowing as if to hold off his own end while your pussy keeps shuddering around him.

You take your time coming all the way down, lost in how good it feels, and then you slump back against the pillow with a ragged sigh, your head swimming. “Holy shit.”

His throbbing-hard cock is still clenched inside your heat, and the bed shifts when he gently pulls out. Dazed, you turn over to watch him as he kneels up on the bed next to you, his knees sinking soft divots into the mattress, and starts to slowly pump himself.

And fuck. He looks so good like this: long hair mussed from sex and sleep, with a half-awake look of concentration on his face, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth and the muscles of his arm flexing with every stroke. Watching him get himself off has only gotten hotter since you saw it the first time, and you didn’t think that was possible.

It feels like it takes all the effort you have left in your body, but you manage to sit up and turn to face him. In one assured move, you reach down to grab his wrist and pull his hand off his cock.

Yoongi whines a little at the realization of what you’re doing, and he leans back to give you full access as you settle yourself on all fours in front of him.

“Oh fuck yeah, please suck me off.”

“Please?” you laugh, pausing to glance up at him. “Who taught you manners?”

“That fucking mouth did,” he growls, and it’s punctuated with a relieved moan as you drag your tongue up his shaft. One of his hands tangles in your hair while you lick the heady taste of yourself off his cock, then breathe deep through your nose so you can swallow him down.

Yoongi’s breath comes in ragged pants as you hollow your cheeks around him and start to bob your head, letting his tip rub against the back of your throat on every pass. You feel his fingers in your hair tighten, and his hips shove up to match your strokes, like he’s already close to coming undone.

This thick cock weighs heavy and familiar on your tongue, warm like the rays of morning sun that have reached far enough into the room to wash over the bedsheets now. Drool spills out from the seal of your lips around Yoongi’s shaft, and the sound of him fucking your mouth is obscene, pornographic as it floats up to the ceiling.

“God,” Yoongi gasps. “Gonna come down your pretty fucking throat.”

And it’s funny— once, this would have made you feel powerful, in control, like the person with the upper hand. The winner. But in this moment, it occurs to you that you don’t really give a shit about winning anymore. Now his words just make you hum and suppress a smile around his cock in your mouth. When you notice the way his thighs tremble in response, you keep going, vibrating his length while you sink as far down as you can take it.

The hand in your hair releases, and then his palm just barely brushes over the bulge of his cock in your throat as if in admiration. Eyes rolling back, you let your jaw slacken and swallow hard on the stretch of him there.

“Jesus, fuck,” he groans, and then he’s coming, and the throb of him in your mouth still feels like a reward. You pull back a little to keep from gagging as he paints fat ropes of cum into the tight clutch of your throat. Sucking firmly around him through spasm after spasm, you swallow it all down greedily until you feel him going soft on your tongue. 

You finally pull off with a wet pop, dazed and laughing as you roll over and collapse into a heap against the mattress, thoroughly spent.

“Okay,” Yoongi manages to say on an exhale, though you can hear he’s still short of breath, too. You glance up to see him raking a hand through his hair, looking fucked out of his mind. “I’m ready to go win a Grammy now.”

There’s just enough time for each of you to shower and get dressed before a whole team of people arrive for Yoongi: stylists, hair and makeup, and most importantly, coffee delivery. Yoongi blinks wide-eyed at you as you press the largest iced Americano you could find in downtown Los Angeles into his hands, and then you step back to let everyone get to work.

Meanwhile, you spend the next few hours in a rush of attempting to get yourself ready, all while double-checking the schedule, answering emails on the fly from your phone, and trying desperately to ignore the anxiety that’s started to hum in the pit of your stomach.

Once your hair and makeup are as decent as you can get them, you slip the black dress you packed for tonight— a rental, because buying a black tie dress was absolutely out of your price range— off the hanger and step carefully into it. Watching yourself in the mirror, you reach behind you for the zipper only to realize you can’t quite manage to pull it up past the small of your back.

Fuck. You didn’t even think about the fact that Jimin helped you zip this thing up when you tried it on initially, during a night at your place where you split two bottles of wine and he performed his own personal critique of all your dress rental options. This was the only one he’d liked.

With a nervous sigh, you head for the bathroom door, figuring that you’ll be able to subtly grab the attention of one of Yoongi’s many stylists to help.

But when you slowly slide the door open, one hand pressing the fabric of your dress in place over your chest, you realize the room has fallen quiet. As you lean across the threshold, you see why: everyone is gone.

Except for Yoongi, who glances up from where he’s sunk into the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

“Where is everyone?” you snap, probably a little harsher than you need to be.

He frowns like he doesn’t understand the question. “They… left? Because they were done? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a big awards show tonight. Means the stylists are pretty booked today.”

Yoongi gets to his feet to cross the room, and you fumble awkwardly, trying to keep your dress up. He’s fully put together now in a well-fitted suit and tie, and with his long hair styled and subtle makeup applied to enhance his features, he looks… good. Too good. Deadly. You can’t quite manage to maintain eye contact, and find yourself staring dumbly at the floor instead.

His voice softens slightly as he steps in close to you. “What’s wrong? Does it not fit?”

“It fucking better,” you mutter. “I just… can’t reach the zipper.”

“Are you asking for my help?”

Your gaze flits up to meet his, and you’re a little surprised by his question. “There’s nobody else here,” you retort, stubborn.

When he blinks evenly back at you, like he’s waiting for something, you realize he’s not going to make this easy. Fucking hell. Another tense moment passes, and he just blinks again.

“Yes,” you finally give in with a frustrated sigh. “Will you please help me, Yoongi?”

“Turn around,” he murmurs, and you do.

His hand slides over the small of your back, and then he slowly starts to ease the zipper up. You don’t dare move a muscle until he’s done, and it’s only once he buttons the closure at the top that you breathe a serious sigh of relief. The dress fits like a glove.

You attempt to compose yourself enough to thank him, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel the heat of his breath against your skin.

His low voice resonates in the quiet of the room as he leans in. “Was that so hard?”

You turn your head as if to argue, but then there’s a split second where you feel his lips brush over your neck, just below your ear. So slight it could’ve been an accident.

“Thanks,” you manage to choke out, and then you slip away from him to get your heels from the bedroom and try to remember how to breathe. You do your best to ignore the fact that your hands are shaking as you pull your shoes on, then pause in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe, giving yourself a final once-over.

As you smooth your hands down the black velvet fabric and turn to the side, you glance up to find Yoongi hovering in the threshold, watching you.

“That dress,” he remarks, sounding a little dazed. You have to fight to keep the smile off your face when he trails off, unable to say more— you didn’t think it was possible to make Min Yoongi speechless. It’s not a bad feeling.

And you do like this dress, even though you could never actually afford it. It’s simple but elegant, a sleeveless column style with a plunging neckline and a slit that reaches your mid-thigh. Nothing groundbreaking, but it sticks to your curves like water and makes you feel somewhat more like a person who belongs at a fancy awards show.

“Jimin picked it,” you respond, and you hear Yoongi exhale a laugh.

“He has good taste.”

You turn toward him as your hidden smile pulls into a smirk. “Well, I’m not dressed up for you,” you chide, and you revel in the way his face drops briefly in surprise before he’s able to conceal it. “I’m trying to meet Kendrick.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

You’re thankful that you purposefully padded your schedule with extra time, because you lose nearly every last minute of it stuck in the gridlock of Los Angeles traffic on the night of a huge event.

By the time you make it to the venue, you’re practically nauseous from all the stopping and starting and crawling of the car, and Yoongi looks equally bad, though you suspect his condition might be more anxiety-related.

As it turns out, the Grammys are a lot less glamorous when you’re only mildly famous, at least by American standards. The two of you are shepherded by security to another ‘lane’ of the red carpet and warned not to stop as you make your way into the building. You observe from afar while A-list celebrities pass in a blur, flashbulbs pop bright enough to blind you, and chatter is drowned out by the sound of fans screaming and the clamor of reporters trying to grab the biggest names for an interview.

“I’m so glad I’m not that fucking famous,” Yoongi scoffs, though he doesn’t quite manage to hide the nerves in his voice.

“Come on,” you murmur once you get inside, nodding toward a pop-up bar in a far corner of the lobby. “Take the edge off. And I’m gonna need alcohol if I have to sit through a fucking three-hour show.”

You down your drinks quickly, only a few minutes shy of the time by which you have to be in your seats, and you return from tossing the empties in the trash to see Yoongi eyeing a piano pushed against the far wall, clearly for show. He takes a seat, glancing around as if in fear of getting yelled at, then gently pushes up the key lid.

“Ooh, do Wine!” you tease with a laugh as you drop onto the bench beside him, but he actually does start to play, one foot pressing down on a pedal to keep the sound soft. His fingers alight over the keys, and the song he plucks out is beautiful. It’s a melody that almost feels nostalgic to you, even though you know you’ve never heard it before.

“What is this?” you ask, and he keeps playing as he responds.

“Do you know Sakamoto?”

You hum a no as you shake your head.

His eyes narrow slightly. “Remind me how you work in the music industry?”

A smile plays at your lips, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up. You know I’m a fraud.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss a note when he glances up to meet your gaze. “Are you?”

It’s only now that you realize how close he is: the two of you are basically sitting hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. For a moment, you forget about the Grammys, forget that anyone else is even in the room.

“Excuse me!” A voice snaps you out of the moment, and you scoot away from Yoongi so quickly you nearly topple off the bench. “That’s not meant to be played, and we need everyone to head to their seats, please!” Your face flushes with an embarrassed heat, and Yoongi lifts a hand apologetically as he covers the keys back up.

You stick close to his side so as not to lose him in the large crowd of people. “Bet they’ll let you play whatever piano you want once you have one of those dumb little trophies,” you mutter under your breath, and Yoongi really laughs, like he wasn’t expecting the comment.

Another thing you didn’t necessarily anticipate: the Grammys are fucking long. You knew it would be over three hours, but you realize you severely underestimated how long that time would feel. While the performances are incredible (and you have to dig your nails into the cushion of your seat to keep from squealing when you spot Lil Nas X a few rows in front of you), there’s plenty of filler between them, and it feels a lot drier when you’re physically in the room for it. Even the commercial breaks are far too short for you to have enough time to actually run to the restroom or get another drink.

You’re also starving. “I hate that they don’t serve food at these things,” you hiss to Yoongi during a break, but it’s late enough in the night now that he’s barely speaking, apart from the occasional monotone grunt. 

Though you’ve been waiting for it all evening, you still don’t quite know if you’re ready when the host starts to run down the list of nominees for Song of the Year.

As he’s only credited as a writer, they don’t actually say Yoongi’s pseudonym, but pride still squeezes tight in your chest when you see “Suga” spelled out across the on-stage monitors beneath the name of the song.

They get through all the titles in what seems like less than a second, and your heart feels like it might give out as an anticipatory silence settles over the crowd. The host fumbles with getting the envelope open, and you’re so tense, you flinch hard at an unexpected brush of contact.

You glance down, and it takes a moment for your brain to process what’s happened. He’s not looking at you, hasn’t said anything, but Yoongi has nevertheless reached over to grab your hand. His long fingers lace through yours, gripping surprisingly tight, and the skin of his palm is warm and dry. It’s like your brain short-circuits for a moment as you stare stupidly at your joined hands, and he gives yours a single nervous squeeze.

“And the Grammy goes to…”

You look over at him, still dumbfounded, and then you hear them call a song that isn’t his.

Your heart sinks as you watch Yoongi blink up at the screen, his mouth pulled into a flat line. You realize belatedly you’re supposed to be clapping, but his hand is still clasped in yours. And you don’t want to pull away from him.

But then he moves first, untwining his hand from yours and bringing it up to rake through his hair with a disbelieving laugh. A little delayed, you both join in the applause as the winner makes their way to the stage. You can’t even process who it is.

You have no idea what to say to console him, so you don’t say anything at all.

Thankfully the category is one of the last of the night, so you only have to sit through a few more rounds of acceptance speeches and watching other people’s dreams come true before you can finally get to your feet. You feel like you can’t leave fast enough as you’re herded out of the stadium and into another car to depart for the afterparty.

There’s a heavy silence in the backseat that feels like a chasm between you as you crawl through Los Angeles traffic.

You realize there’s a bottle of champagne tucked into an ice bucket behind the front seat— a thoughtful touch from the label execs, you assume. Yoongi spots it at the same time you do, and he immediately reaches for it. With a grunt of effort, he pops the cork, a little bit of excess foam dribbling onto the floor of the car.

He raises his eyebrows at you, then brings the bottle right to his mouth for a long drink. Longer than long. You watch his adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallows several times.

“Alright, chill the fuck out,” you snap after a few seconds, reaching over to grab it from him. “At least eat something first.”

“It’s my consolation prize,” Yoongi quips, but he lets you wrest the champagne from his hands without resisting. You take a thorough swig yourself, then recork the bottle and drop it back in the bucket. “Such a good little admin,” he purrs, and you try to convince yourself there isn’t a hint of venom in his words.

The car pulls to a stop at the designated hotel, and you climb out after Yoongi. Upon making it inside, the two of you peel off in different directions: him for the bar, and you to find anything that remotely resembles food. You keep glancing over at him from across the room as it fills with more and more people, nervous to take your eyes off him for too long, unsure of what he might do. Every time you find him again, it seems like he’s downing another glass of whiskey, drinking like the fucking world is ending.

Meanwhile, you’re struggling to find anything that isn’t kale, quinoa, or… whatever grain-free bread is. With a frustrated sigh, you finally decide to give up. If Yoongi wants to drink on an empty stomach until he gets alcohol poisoning, you figure that’s his fucking problem.

When you shove your way through the crowd back toward him, you find that he’s been pulled into a conversation with a bunch of older men you can only assume to be local industry reps. As you get close enough to make out their words, you quickly understand why he has such a sour look on his face.

“Song of the Year, huh? You know we can cross-reference the nominees and figure out if you’re full of shit, right?”

Yoongi grimaces politely into his drink as he throws it back, but you have no problem cutting in. “You’re actually speaking to an incredibly accomplished producer and songwriter,” you retort without thinking. “He has over 100 KOMCA credits.” You don’t miss the smirk Yoongi tries to conceal behind the rim of his glass.

“KOMCA?” Another one of them speaks up, the question paired with a harsh laugh. “Never heard of it. That anything like payola?”

“Wild that anyone can just buy their way into the industry these days.” The first man shakes his head, eyes scanning Yoongi up and down as if the tailoring of his suit tells him everything he needs to know. “Guess that’s the way the world works now. Never had to struggle a day in your life, huh?”

Your response is immediate and far too loud. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A loud laugh ripples through all of the men, clearly more excited about evoking a reaction than the gravity of their claims. “Wow, man,” the one who spoke first chortles, clapping Yoongi hard on the shoulder. “Looks like you need to control your girl.”

Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch Yoongi shrug off the guy’s hand to set his empty glass down on the closest table. He moves slowly, deliberately taking a long pause before correcting them. “This is actually my assistant.” His voice is laced with a deadly calm you know well.

“Assistant?” A third pipes up, acting as if he’s never heard the word before. “Huh. You know, back in my day we just called them secretaries. Or mistresses.”

Yoongi moves so fast you barely have time to process it, lunging forward and shoving the guy in the chest with enough force that he stumbles backwards into his shitty friends. “What the fuck!” one of them shouts, purposefully loud, and you can hear a ripple of shock roll through the crowd, can see heads turning to look your way in alarm.

“No, no, nope,” you immediately mutter. “This is not fucking happening.”

Yoongi is already taking another step toward the group, and you tighten a hand hard around his bicep. “We’re leaving.”

When he whips around to face you, the mixture of anger and pain reflected in his dark eyes is so overwhelming, it hits you like a truck. You try to force yourself to stay calm, because at least one of you has to be.

“Come on, Yoongi,” you say, letting your voice soften. “Fuck this place. I need some real food.” Your eyes search his, pleading. For a moment, you can’t help but wonder if you’re staring down an enemy or a friend.

But then you see the fight go out of him as he nods, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief.

Shifting the hand on his arm to press firmly to the center of his back, you guide him in front of you and wind through the packed room of people until you make your way outside again.

Fate does you one good turn by leaving an empty cab out front, and you push Yoongi into the backseat, then slide in next to him. You lean forward to greet the driver, doing your best to smile politely and act composed, like you didn’t just almost get into a fight at the Grammys afterparty.

“Can you take us to Koreatown, please?”

~*~

The cab drops you off outside a strip of bars and restaurants, lit up with neon signs in both English and Korean. To his credit, Yoongi seems more subdued as he follows you out of the car wordlessly, but you allow him a little more time to cool off in silence. You wander somewhat aimlessly, attempting to shake off your lingering anxiety in the warm evening air, until you stumble upon a food truck parked at the end of the block. Your eyes go wide at the posted signage.

“What do you think?” you ask as you turn to Yoongi, and he shrugs, like he really doesn’t care. Perfect. You’ve never had a problem a gamja hot dog couldn’t fix.

Securing one for each of you, you nod Yoongi toward a small group of tables set up at the curb to sit down. Once seated, you immediately drown your hot dog in ketchup and mustard, and you can hear him scoff before taking the bottles from you to do the same. Admittedly, you must look fairly ridiculous eating fried street food in full black tie, but you’re far too hungry to give a fuck right now.

It’s perfection from the first bite, crispy and hot, the batter studded with potato pieces and the inside loaded with cheese.

You’re also too hungry to bother making conversation at first, but after a few more bites you glance over at Yoongi, and your heart sinks all over again. You really do feel bad, and then the words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur with your mouth full. “That you didn’t win.”

He makes a face as he chews. “We already agreed I wouldn’t have been happy even if I won, right? So it doesn’t really matter.”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced. “It’s okay to have feelings, you know. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Yoongi just shrugs, but he can’t quite meet your gaze. “It’s whatever.” You take another bite as he continues. “If I’m gonna win a Grammy, I want it to be for something that’s all mine anyway.”

The sentence surprises you, and you blink back at him. “You’re going to release your own stuff?”

As if he instantly regrets bringing it up, his face reddens a little, his expression twisting into an unsure grimace. “Ahh… I don’t know, probably not. People know me as a producer. I don’t know that anyone would actually listen to it.”

“I would,” you say without even really thinking, and his eyes widen. “You know,” you continue quickly, adopting a fake-serious tone. “Since I work in the music industry. Strictly business.”

A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth, and you find yourself relieved to see it. “I appreciate that.”

You’re also desperately curious, wondering if he’ll say more about his own music, but he goes quiet again. Given the night he’s had, you don’t exactly want to push it.

Taking the final bite of your hot dog and mourning the loss, you stack your skewer and paper tray on top of Yoongi’s, then get to your feet to toss them in the nearest trash can. When you return to the table, you smack your palms decisively against it.

“Come on. I think the circumstances call for some binge drinking.”

Your first stop is tucked into two seats at a neighboring dive bar, alive and roaring with enough ambient conversation that you have to speak fairly loudly to be heard over the noise. The bar in the center of the room is wrapped around a small open kitchen, where you watch the line cooks hustle to steam, grill, and fry what seems like a never-ending rush of food orders.

You and Yoongi stick to soju, pouring each other shot after shot. On the first one, he tilts his full glass toward you, and you knock yours against it.

“To losing,” he toasts, and you can’t help laughing as you tip your head back to drink. He’s smirking as he swallows his down, then pours you another. “Hey, maybe Jungkook will throw me a commiseration party when we get back.”

You grimace automatically at the name as you take the bottle from him to fill his glass up, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. “Trouble in paradise?”

With a roll of your eyes, you determine that you need to be drunker for this. You take your shot, then instantly hold your glass out for Yoongi to pour another before he even gets to his. He obliges, and you throw it back immediately. The bottom of your glass hits the bar with a loud thud.

“I kinda… freaked out on him. Right before we left.”

Yoongi’s eyebrow lifts, questioning, as he drinks. “Any reason?” he prompts when he’s finished.

“Yes,” you answer stubbornly, tapping at the rim of your empty glass. He fills you up again, and you return the favor to finish the bottle. Yoongi motions to the bartender for another as you down your shot and steel yourself.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he offers.

“Don’t you want to hear that you were right?”

He shrugs like he can’t argue. “I mean, always.”

“Well for one, he asked if anything was going on between you and me.” You glance over to see Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly as he drinks. “I said no.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then he was like, ‘Good, I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.’”

Yoongi is clearly trying to keep his expression neutral, but it’s a losing battle. You can see the way his shoulders are starting to shake, and then he finally caves in, his palm smacking flat against the bar as he really laughs. “Wow,” he eventually recovers enough to huff, and you reach for the fresh soju bottle that’s been dropped off. “He really just said it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you intone, filling his glass and then handing the bottle back. Yoongi’s still chuckling a little as he pours your drink before taking his own, and you continue. “And then, I don’t know, there was some other stuff, and I was just like… oh fuck.”

“Because you realized he’s in love with you.”

You sigh dejectedly into your soju. “I’m so stupid.”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your glass once you’ve emptied it again. “You wanted to avoid an inconvenient truth. Just makes you human.”

There’s a pause as you take the bottle to pour his drink, and then his next words nearly make you choke as you throw back yours. “You should date Jungkook.”

You’re sure you must look entirely dumbfounded as you stare at him. “What?”

“What?” he retorts, like he hasn’t said anything shocking. “He’d be good for you.”

For a long moment, neither of you speak as you regard him. You finally shake your head, nudging your empty glass toward him until he gets the memo. “Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter under your breath, and you’re not sure if he hears it over the din of the bar.

“Besides,” you continue as you snatch the soju out of his hands to pour his drink, “I’ve tried dating a coworker before. It’s a bad idea.”

“Sounds like a good story.”

“It’s not, really,” you murmur, staring down at the liquid in your glass. “My last job I was a waitress.”

“Mm,” Yoongi interrupts with a hum as he takes his shot. “Waitress. I was close.”

You pour him another, mostly to keep him quiet. “Yeah yeah, you’re very fucking perceptive. Anyway, I dated another server for a couple years. He ended up cheating on me with one of the hostesses, but I was honestly kinda tired of him, so I was glad to end it.” You hear Yoongi snort a little at your fairly heartless admission. “But then I walked in on them fucking in the walk-in, and it put me in a bad mood. Long story short, I ended up throwing a drink on a customer and they had to let me go.”

“Christ,” he laughs, pausing for a moment to fully take in your words. “And now you’re a pain in my ass.”

You roll your eyes as you motion for another soju bottle. “Correct.”

“Sounds like your ex was an idiot.” You glance over to find Yoongi already looking at you. “I mean, in the walk-in is just… nasty.”

“That’s what I said!” Your mouth pulls up at the corners as you try to suppress a giggle. “I don’t think we can really judge anybody though.”

Yoongi blinks, staring blankly into the middle distance. “That conference room trash can condom still haunts me.”

With a loud laugh, you bury your face in your hands, and you can feel your cheeks burning from alcohol and embarrassment. You peer between your fingers as Yoongi sets down a fresh shot for you, and you gladly take it.

“People are stupid,” he remarks wisely. “That’s why I don’t date.” You quirk an eyebrow as he passes you the bottle.

“What, a prize like you?” you deadpan. “You just fuck people in bar bathrooms like a well-adjusted human?”

“Yeah,” he admits with a shrug. “So. Wanna check this one out?”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, and you immediately smack him on the arm. He nearly spills his drink from laughter, and you can’t keep yourself from laughing a little, too. “I already gave it to you this morning, you freak.”

“Come on,” Yoongi’s voice is teasing, and he bumps his shoulder against yours when he leans in closer. “I had a hard night.”

Pouring him another drink is your only distraction, and you do it with the utmost focus. “This dress is a rental.”

“I can pay for it.” The heat of his breath ghosts over your collarbone as he answers. You shove the bottle hard into his chest, and he takes the cue to fill your glass again, still smirking as he pulls away.

“First,” you say, sounding more confident than you feel, especially with the way your pulse has started to quicken. Your expression is deadly serious as you turn to stare into Yoongi’s eyes and he stares right back. “You have to prove that you can keep up.”

When you swallow your shot easily to punctuate the dare, a look flashes over Yoongi’s face like he’s impressed, and then he follows your lead.

After a few more bottles, the bar is so crowded and so loud that you can hardly hear yourselves think, and you stumble out of it and into the next place you see, and then the next, and then the next. All bets are off tonight, and you’re not about to tell Yoongi that he can’t get fucking trashed considering he just lost at the fucking Grammys. You figure you’ll be able to sleep off your hangovers on the stupidly long flight home tomorrow.

With each stop, Yoongi’s mood seems to improve a little. He eventually drinks enough that his suit jacket and tie come off, and they end up draped over your shoulders, despite your loud protests that you don’t need any more responsibilities. With the sleeves of his white button-down pushed up, it gets increasingly hard to divert your attention away from his hands and the muscles in his forearms, especially as you get progressively drunker and drunker.

Yoongi’s palm brushes over the small of your back as you make your way out of the last place, his touch warm even through the velvet of your dress.

“I know it was your personal nightmare,” he murmurs, words slurring together slightly, “but I really am glad you came on this trip. I mean it,” he insists when you shoot him a look. “I would be fucking insufferable if I was alone tonight. And I definitely would’ve punched that label guy in the face.”

You exhale a laugh and nearly fall over in your heels, and Yoongi’s hand slips to your waist to keep you upright. “He deserved it.” You lean into him, not entirely for balance, and you can feel it when he shrugs.

“Sorry you didn’t get to meet Kendrick.”

The glow of the various open-late establishments and the glitter of the pavement under your feet are all beautiful, especially in your current state, and the night air is still and warm. As you approach the next building and are met with the dull thud of music, your eyes go wide.

“Oh, I just figured out how you can make it up to me.”

The noraebang is surprisingly busy given that it’s a Sunday night, but you’re still able to book a room, and you giggle your thanks as Yoongi opens his wallet to pay the hourly rate like it’s nothing. The two of you work your way through more bottles of beer and soju, and when you start up the karaoke and teasingly pick the HEIZE song he produced, you’re surprised that he actually joins you.

Yoongi must be able to read the expression on your face, because he smirks mid-song. “Let the record show that I am actually a very fun drunk.”

And he is. You sing dramatically and loudly, not caring if you hit the notes, jumping and dancing and occasionally dropping passionately to your knees before dissolving into laughter. At first you monopolize the controller, but after you force a third Kendrick song on him Yoongi gestures for it, and you begrudgingly hand it over.

Crossing the room, you kneel down to dig through the provided box of props, immediately spotting and slipping on a cat-eared headband. You glance up at the screen, eyes widening as you realize he’s searching through Epik High songs. “Do Love Love Love!”

When you look back at him, Yoongi is squinting at you, laughing a little at your new set of ears. “What the fuck do you know about Epik High?”

“What do you mean what the fuck do I know?” you snap back. “I love them! I should be asking you that question, Mr. ‘I don’t listen to music’!”

His mouth pulls into a grin, his tongue toying at the inside of his cheek. “I have a few exceptions, alright?”

Still knelt down, you flop sideways onto the floor when he selects Born Hater. “Ugh, I’m too drunk to say that many words.”

“I got this,” Yoongi reassures you, flipping his microphone coolly with one hand as he gets to his feet. You can’t help giggling dumbly from your spot on the ground as you drunkenly prop your feet on the booth and reach up to pull your high heels off.

If there’s one thing tonight has taught you, it’s that Yoongi has a really good voice, even raw and live and drunk as hell. You don’t know why it surprises you, but it does. To you, performing seems like a different world from writing and producing tracks, but he does it just as effortlessly, with no trace of the anxiety you’ve seen grip him in a crowded room. The passion in the way he growls and gasps out lyrics, even just in the way he moves, it’s all undeniable and exhilarating to watch. He raps like he has nothing left to lose, mouth pulled into a snarl, occasionally reaching up to push his sweaty hair back off his forehead.

You can only gaze up at him, awestruck, wondering how many different versions of Min Yoongi you have left to discover until you hit the bottom.

The two of you trade the controller back and forth until every bottle on the table is empty, until the words blur on the screen, until Yoongi flops over to lay down in the booth with his head hanging off the edge, clearly exhausted. “No more,” he groans. “I’m so tired. And so drunk.”

Hovering above him, you pry the controller from his grip with a smile, slipping the cat ears onto his head for an even exchange. And then you get an idea.

“Last song!” you assure him as you type, and he groans even louder when Cat & Dog starts to play.

“God, this song is terrible,” Yoongi complains, but you’re singing too loud to care about his critiques.

With a severe amount of effort, he pulls himself to a sitting position, and you kneel down in front of him, miming cat paws with your hands and wiggling your hips. “I didn’t know you were into petplay,” he deadpans, and you stick your tongue out, determined not to let him ruin your fun.

You get to your feet and turn toward the screen as the second chorus finishes, yelling over your shoulder, “This is my favorite part!”

“Feel like Cinderella naega byeonae—”

When Yoongi’s voice suddenly reverberates from the other microphone, you almost drop yours. You whip around in complete disbelief. He’s on his feet and moving towards you as he continues the rap verse, the inarguable best part, with a renewed cocky energy. And you have to admit, he’s putting Yeonjun to shame.

“What the fuck!” you practically scream, but he just keeps going.

Seized by full-body drunk laughter, you stumble forward and nearly fall over, knocking into his chest. Though Yoongi’s reflexes are a little delayed, he still manages to right you without missing a word, one arm hooking around your waist. You swallow hard as you suddenly find yourself intimately close to the broad sweep of his collarbone, exposed between the top buttons of his shirt that came undone at some point during your debaucherous evening.

Fumbling for your microphone, you make it back to reality in time for the final chorus, only to fall entirely to pieces when Yoongi starts barking at full volume to match the outro. You can’t take it, and he’s not fast enough to keep you upright, so you drop straight down to the floor on hands and knees, laughing so hard it feels like your lungs might give out.

The microphone rolls dejectedly out of your grasp as you flop over onto your back, and you scrub your hands down your face, trying desperately to catch your breath as the song fades out.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” you mumble into your palms. You uncover your face to look up at Yoongi, only to find him laughing down at you, still wearing the fucking cat headband. “I thought you hated that song.”

He rolls his eyes despite his smile. “Yeah, well, it was also stuck in my head for like a week after you played it that one night.”

You sit up with a dramatic glare. “Oh, you mean the night you stole my fucking keys?”

A proud smirk flickers over his mouth. “You know, I am sorry about that. Or at least sorry I couldn’t see the look on your face when you realized.” He tosses his microphone onto the booth bench next to his abandoned suit jacket, then reaches down with both hands to pull you to your feet. It belatedly occurs to you that you might’ve left his tie at the last bar, but you’re too drunk to give it another thought.

“I hate you so much,” you say, though you can’t quite keep your expression serious. “Fuck, I should’ve taken a video. Could’ve used it for blackmail.”

Yoongi’s voice is lower when he speaks again, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close to you he is, the fact that his hands are still closed over yours. “Guess you’re the only one who’ll ever know.”

“Mmm,” you hum, swaying a little where you stand. His palms slip to your waist to keep you steady as you blink up at him, and your hands flatten against his chest, your fingertips tracing over the buttons of his shirt. “You look good in cat ears.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi murmurs, and then his mouth is on yours.

Your hands reach up to tangle in his long dark hair, knocking the headband to the floor, and with the amount of alcohol currently coursing through your system, you don’t have a single inhibition left in you. You kiss Yoongi like you can’t fucking breathe without him.

He pulls you as close as he can, until your bodies are flush all the way down, and you don’t ever want it to be any other way. You want it just like this, sucking and nibbling at his bottom lip until his tongue licks your mouth open and you groan into him. Just like this: his palms moving down to grab your ass unapologetically, your grip on his hair tightening, even your teeth knocking together with how drunk and desperate you are for each other. Just like this: two stupid, wildly flawed humans in black tie attire, making out in a Ktown noraebang at two in the morning on a Monday.

The sound of the door opening might as well be a gunshot for how loud it feels, and you just barely manage to jump apart as an employee pokes their head in.

“Hey, we’re closing in five.”

You don’t realize you’re not breathing until you hear the door click shut again, and your gasp for air quickly turns into an overwhelmed, embarrassed laugh. Yoongi groans drunkenly, running a hand through his hair, then sighs out a long exhale, like he’s trying to calm down.

“Come on,” you giggle, still close enough to tug playfully at one of his belt loops. “Let’s get out of here.”

Thankfully a cab is still easy to flag down even this late. The two of you manage to pour yourselves into the backseat and give the driver the name of the hotel. It’s not a terribly long drive, and you watch wide-eyed out the window as the sprawl of Los Angeles rushes by, painted in neon glow and the amber wash of streetlights.

Yoongi slumps against you, and he goes quiet for so long you think he might be asleep. When he finally shifts again, he presses his face into your shoulder with a noise of discomfort, and you’re suddenly worried he might be silent for a very different reason.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice low. “Don’t puke in the cab.”

“Stupid,” he responds, and you figure he must not be doing that bad if he can still talk.

You run your fingers through the soft, dark strands of his hair, admiring the texture, the way it’s nearly long enough now to graze his shoulders. “What’s stupid?”

“I’m—” he tries, but the car dips over a pothole, and he’s talking so quietly you lose the rest.

“You’re what?”

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the click of the turn signal.

“In love with you.”

His words stun you where you sit, and you have no idea what to do, say, think. You just keep twining your fingers through his hair, like you’re stuck on auto-pilot, distantly aware that every alarm bell in your inebriated brain is going off. It feels like way too much to try and process any of it right now. It feels like a trap.

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” you finally answer. Yoongi just stays slumped against you, and he doesn’t say another word.

The cab drops you off at the hotel, and it’s quiet between the two of you as you get him up to the room. You feel like you’re watching yourself from a distance, and it’s like your brain isn’t processing any of this as really happening, as if to keep you from thinking too hard about the big picture. From what it all could mean.

In the bathroom, you stand over the sink as you lend Yoongi your makeup remover and you both brush your teeth.

“Contacts,” you remind him through a mouthful of toothpaste when he spits out the last of his, and he nods sleepily.

“You don’t have to… administrate me all the time,” Yoongi slurs as he carefully slips one lens and then the other out of his eyes.

You spit out your own toothpaste, then sigh as you rinse the sink clean. “Well, you’re very drunk, and it’s my fault.”

“It was fun,” he says quietly, fumbling the case closed.

“It was,” you echo. “Really.” 

The bathroom door is half-open on its sliding track, and you glance up in the mirror to see Yoongi hovering in the threshold, looking back at you as you wipe away stray traces of mascara from under your eyes. You think he’s going to leave, but then he steps in behind you again, and you feel his hand slide up the small of your back to ease the zipper of your dress open.

Something in your heart twists as you stare down at the marble counter, and you can already tell this isn’t meant to be flirtatious. That thought is confirmed when you finally look up, only to find yourself left entirely alone.

With a small sigh, you slide the bathroom door shut, then flip the switch to turn on the fan. The white noise still doesn’t feel like enough, so you run the shower as well, then grab a plastic water bottle from the counter to chug. You retreat into the far corner with your phone, scrolling until you find the name of the only person who can possibly help you right now.

“Hey babe,” Jimin answers on the third ring. “I’m at rehearsal so I really can’t chat. You good?”

“Yoongi said he loves me,” you answer immediately, and the reality of it hits you impossibly hard as soon as you say it out loud.

“Uh-oh.”

“But,” you lean back until your head knocks against the wall. “He’s drunk as shit. I— we are drunk as shit.”

There’s a pause, and you swear you hear Jimin laugh a little under his breath. “He really said it, huh?”

“Yes, Jimin,” you groan. “In love.”

“And?”

You grimace at the flippant response from your supposed best friend. “What do you mean and?! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Well, that depends,” Jimin starts.

“On?” you snap, impatient.

“Have you realized you’re in love with him yet? ‘Cause if I have to hear you babble on about this man for another week without piecing it together, I really might lose it.”

His words actually make your stomach churn. “Jimin!”

“I—” he sounds like he’s preparing to explain himself, but then he pauses, and his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Fuck, I’m getting yelled at. I gotta go. Call me tomorrow.”

You want to scream at him to stay, to help, that he can’t just unravel you like this and then leave you to figure it out for yourself. “Mochi, I’m on the fucking plane tomorrow—”

“I’ll come over when you get home!” Jimin interrupts. “And then you can tell me the entire story of you two finally figuring out how to be normal humans with feelings.” You scoff at his biting remark, but he’s already talking over you. “You’re smart, you got this, I love you!”

You hear him blow a dramatic kiss into the speaker, and then the line goes dead.

The world spins around you as you stare helplessly at the silent black screen of your phone, and you can’t shove it all down anymore. It’s overwhelming, all of the things that you’re feeling in this moment, so much so that you can’t even identify what you feel. It’s just a giant, tangled mess, in your brain and in your heart. The tears spill out like you’ve been holding them in for weeks, hard and fast, until you can scarcely catch your breath. You scrub at the first few that roll down your cheeks, but they continue relentlessly, and you eventually give up and just let it all pour out.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, crying on the bathroom floor. You can’t even really explain why you’re crying, except that everything inside of you feels like too much to handle.

There’s a dull ache in your head by the time you finally manage to cry yourself dry, and then you peel yourself off the floor to slip out of your dress and shut off the shower. You pull on the tank top and sleep shorts you’d grabbed earlier from the bedroom, trying to avoid your swollen face in the mirror as you turn the lights out and shut the door behind you.

Yoongi has left the lamp on your bedside on, and you immediately flip it off to plunge the room into darkness, not wanting him to see you like this. He stirs slightly when you slip under the covers, and you can feel the mattress shift as he turns over.

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arm slides over your stomach to pull your body flush to his, and his lips brush at the join of your neck and shoulder. As confusing as it should be, there’s something about the weight of him pressed into you that relaxes you, even through your current haze of emotion. You allow yourself to sink back against him, to breathe deeper, though your inhales are still a little shaky.

Yoongi’s rough voice in your ear pulls you up from the edge of sleep. “Did I fuck everything up?”

You sniff softly, and your own reply is barely more than a whisper. “No, Yoongi, it’s okay. Let’s just sleep."

As you hear him settle in beside you again, you make a promise that you’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow. You’ll figure out how you really feel, and how he does, and what you want, and what the hell you’re supposed to do about it all. But tonight, you just want this: to lay here with Yoongi and pretend your entire world isn’t about to change when you wake up.

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

A/N: oh hiiiiii, super secret bonus author's note down here!!! just wanted to share that, now that we're officially through the grammys, that means we are down to just two more chapters left in the series!!! i held off confirming the full length of LDOMLT until we got to this point (and honestly i could've easily split this into two chapters but i am NICE and i did not give you the WORST CLIFFHANGER OF ALL TIME LMAO) - but now i'm sure. chapter 11 will be the final one. gonna do my best to get 10 and 11 up before end of year, or by very early 2023 at the latest!!! and thank u, as always, for reading 💜💜💜

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #look down on me like that

[pjmbrat]

tease m.yg

warnings: dom!yoongi, sub!reader, degradation, lil bit of praise, sir kink, spanking, reader tries to be a brat but fails <\3

You filled up the bathtub with steaming hot water, just how you liked it. Sliding into the water, your strained muscles getting that much needed therapy you’d been craving all day. You lathered your body in your favorite coconut flavored body wash, it was evident that Yoongi loved it as well, always putting his nose in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply when he hugged you. But tonight, you didn’t want Yoongi to be sweet like how he usually is, no, you wanted him to be mean.

Teasing Yoongi had to be one of your favorite things by far. Pushing him to his limits so he would fuck you stupid was always your goal, so tonight you had the perfect idea for what you wanted to do. You grabbed your phone off of the side of the bath, opening you and Yoongi’s messages, clicking on the little camera button. Although you were in the bath, you were such a filthy sight. Your face was slightly pink from the heat of the bath, the soapy bubbles all over your boobs, you knew Yoongi would go crazy for this.

You snapped a photo of yourself, squeezing your boobs together as you looked up at the camera. Your fingers trembling over the send button, Where’d all that confidence go? You sucked it up and sent it anyway, sending another text reading, “Wish you were here.” The anticipation had you wet already. You put your phone back where it was, continuing to enjoy your bath. After you had washed your hair, and the rest of your body, you made your way out of the bathtub to dry off. You almost forgot that you even texted Yoongi, but as soon as you stepped into your room-

There he was. Sitting on the bed, still dressed in his work attire, and God, you just wanted him to fuck you then and there. “What were you trying to do, huh?” He mumbled. “You didn’t like it?” You pouted, making your way over to him, dressed in a simple white, silky robe. “Over my knee.” He demanded, arousal pooling in your core. “What are you talking abou-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he swiftly picked you up and placed you over his knee himself. His hands made their way to the curve of your ass, groping it. “Bet this is what you wanted, isn’t it Y/N?” He growled, landing a hard smack to your ass, undoubtedly leaving a red hand print. You whimpered, “Yoongi, please.” You begged.

“Please, what? Are you that greedy for my cock that you can’t even address me properly?” Your disobedience earning you another smack to the ass. You could barely think straight at this point, just wanting him to be inside of you. “Please sir, wanna feel you..” You cried. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to relieve the ache just a little bit. Yoongi wasn’t having it, though, quickly picking you up once again and making you sit on his lap, facing him. You could feel his bulge between your legs, “You’re such a fuckin’ tease.” He groaned, smashing his lips against yours. He wrapped his hand around your throat, causing you to whine into his mouth. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, fighting with your own, pulling away only to bite on your bottom lip. “Dirty girl. Lay down for me.” You scrambled over to the bed, laying down on your back. “Need you so bad..” You whined, untying the belt of your robe, your naked body on display for him now. Yoongi licked his lips, his eyes trailing down your naked body. He quickly took his pants off, along with his boxers.

Yoongi rubbed the tip of his cock, spreading the precum around his shaft. He let out a groan as he pumped his cock above you. “Sir please, wan’ you inside.” You cried out. He took his time painfully teasing you, rubbing the tip against your aching clit. Yoongi’s moans were like music to your ears, and you could listen to them forever. “Gonna be a good fuckin’ girl for me?” He growled, spreading your dripping arousal all over your cunt. “Yes, yes please sir, please fuck me, I’ll be such a good girl for you sir!!” Hearing that, he sunk into your tight heat, splitting you open. You arched your back and let out a cry. He was relentless, pounding you at a brutal pace. “Yes fuck, just like that, take all of me.” He gasped, rubbing circles on your clit. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your moans and cries matching his thrusts. You were never one to last long, especially with him, but you already felt yourself getting close, and you knew he could feel it too with how tight you were clenching around him. “Gonna cum already, huh? Such a pathetic slut.” His words pushed you over the edge, you screamed his name one last time before you came all over his cock, quivering under him. Everything going dark as you got lost in euphoria. Yoongi groaned, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed deep inside of you.

As soon as you came down from your high, Yoongi was back to being the sweet boy he’d always been, grabbing a towel from the bedside table to clean you up, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Did so well for me, angel.” He purred, covering you up with the blankets on your bed. “Mmm..” was all you could reply with as you closed your eyes, letting yourself drift to sleep in his arms.

#yoongi #yoongi smut #suga bts #bts smut #jimin smut #namjoon smut #bts ff #yoongi ff #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts yoongi #kpop smut #jhope smut #bts v #jin smut #fanfic #like or reblog

[voiqdays]

ride it | myg

you’re a slut for yoongi (me too)

pairing(s): min yoongi x fem! reader

wc: 247

content warnings: dom!yoongi, unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS !!), use of the word ‘slut’, praising, he slapped her (ONE TIME) he came inside of her (💀), gets softer at the end (kind of?), jumps right into smut !!

“dumb fuckin’ slut” he slapped you across your face.

“I told you to ride my dick and you can’t even do that right” he said harshly. you were out of breath and covered in sweat. Yoongi had told you to ride him and you tried. You really did.

Yoongi started thrusting up, making you stay still. His pace, slow and predictable. He began thrusting faster, nearing his orgasm. He's hitting so deep, you can feel him in your stomach. you gasped feeling your orgasm approaching, little moans leaving your mouth. “mm, r-right there, baby” struggling to get the words out due to his animalistic pace.

Yoongi held your waist with one hand while wrapping the other around your throat. That will undoubtedly bruise you tomorrow. He leaned forward, giving kitten licks to your hard nipples. “fuck, you take my cock so well” he groaned against your boobs.

“mhmm i‘m gonna cum” you whined. It felt like Yoongi had sped up the pace of his thrusts even more if that was even possible. Feeling his dick twitch inside of you, he stilled his hips, thrusting as deep as he could. Capturing his lips in a heated kiss, you try to bury your moans. Yoongi kept his dick inside of you for a moment before pulling out, breaking the kiss. He smiles watching his cum drip out of your pussy, thrusting two fingers in to keep it there.

“That's my good slut” he says, softly kissing your forehead.

© voiqdays 2023

#min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts x reader #min yoongi smut #bts one shot #bts fanfction #first post?? #i wrote this at 3am

[eoieopda]

I'D LIKE TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE HORNY TIMES PLEASE:

for each member, what is a/the non sexual act their partner may do that just gets them going? gets their gears turning? gets their gasses burning (???)?

bonne, this spoke directly to my soul. i feel my rotted brain melting.

please journey with me under the cut…

namjoon becomes so incomprehensibly horny whenever you make some quick, offhand socioeconomic/political commentary. for example, you’re watching the news together and hear something deserving of criticism. you talk back to the tv, as if that does much of anything. well, it kinda does because namjoon is pulling you into his lap. talk to anti-capitalism to him 😩💦

seokjin is down so bad that hearing god-awful dad jokes out of your mouth is world-ending. you groan whenever he gets corny, so the fact that this habit of his is clearly rubbing off on you? because you spend so much time together that you’re swapping idiosyncrasies?? something that cringeworthy shouldn’t make him so hot n bothered, but it sure does. “i’m horny”? more like “hi, horny. i’m dad”.

yoongi has a thing for that raspy voice of yours when you’re just waking up. you’re mostly talking nonsense at this hour and suddenly, he doesn’t care if you’ve brushed your teeth yet, or if your hair is sticking up in 800 directions. nope, not a fuck given.

hoseok starts thinking wild thoughts whenever he sees you be even slightly assertive, since he’s so go-with-the-flow. for example, you’re out for dinner. you order abc and are given xyz. in your shoes, hoseok would just accept it; he’d eat it even if he doesn’t like it (he will pull faces and whine, don’t get him wrong). but the second you flag down the waiter to point out the error, he’s white-knuckling the table. the power you have 🤌🏻🤌🏻

jimin feels his dick twitch whenever he’s proud of you, which is… most of the time. this comes up in a lot of different ways: if you achieve something at work; if you speak kindly about yourself (acknowledging that you do look delicious in that outfit); or you enforce a boundary with someone, etc…. UGH. that’s his mother 👏🏻 fuckin’ 👏🏻 baby 👏🏻 and you deserve to be rewarded.

taehyung, king of oral fixations, goes slack-jawed and stupid whenever you apply lip balm. it’s not intended to be a show, really, you don’t even realize he’s watching you — but now he’s gotta taste it, taste you, wind up with that shit smeared all over. if your lips weren’t chapped before, they will be soon 😵‍💫

jungkook loses his gd mind whenever you take something of his out of the laundry and wear it yourself. you don’t do it to be cheeky; his gigantic (even for him) shirts — the same one in every color because duh — are just comfortable. they always end up in a heap on the floor, anyways, but the laundry fairy will deal with that when he’s done with you 🧚🏻‍♀️

#minors do not interact #bonne! #moots #jade speaks #bts #bts headcanons

[aajjks]

TPOL!JK

namjoon listens to it all. every word that leaves jungkook’s mouth, he listens carefully. they’re both talking so calmly to one another that no one would have thought the two could be at odds with one another and it’s not like namjoon wants to be. he doesn’t have the desire to put up a fight with his little brother but now he’s trying to take the one he loves by any means necessary.

when jungkook shows him the tattoo right below his collarbone his jaw clenches but he’s a bit amused too. “well, no wonder the two of you didn’t last. tattooing your partner’s name on your body jinxes the relationship, kook” says namjoon whilst taking another puff.

“and i’m not blackmailing you. i’m telling you what’s going to happen to ji-ae if you don’t back off. blackmailing is empty threats, this one isn’t. thought yoongi taught you better than that” chuckles namjoon, he even mentions another longtime friend of theirs by the name of yoongi jungkook even chuckles when he brings up his name yet he still isn’t taking namjoon seriously.

“woooow” laughs namjoon after jungkook’s ‘your mine’ epilogue. “you sound exactly like him. you know, your dead father. be honest, you want y/n to be just as fucked up as ji-ae was right? i thought you hated that man yet you sought his approval. sounds like you loved that crazy bastard to me but like father like son. you do look like him after all” shrugs namjoon.

“how about i just kill her?” and jungkook had to make sure he heard that right. “and don’t lecture me on that ‘but you love her’ bullshit because you claim to love her yet you’re here to ruin her life and turn her into your barely stable mother. so how about i eliminate the problem since she’s coming between us?”

Wow…

he didn’t know that his friend was even more fucked up than him, Jungkooks eyes harden as he takes out the cigarette from his mouth, he’s glaring at namjoon.

“What the fuck are you talking about, hyung??” He scoffs, “are you smoking weed or what?? You sound fuckin high.” He doesn’t want to believe the words that just came out of his mouth.

He cannot believe that Namjoon just threatened to kill you. “Imagine if she heard you? Wow she’ll see me as a saint.” He rolls his eyes.

Jungkook is actually concerned for your safety with namjoon now. “H-How can you even suggest that??? Are you insane? I-I love her???! S-She likes you- you like her! DAMN IT.” He throws the cigarette away. His voice is getting louder and louder.

How can he-

“Kill her and I’ll kill you with my bare hands hyung.” Jungkook stalks closer to him, standing head to head. “She isn’t between us- no.” He shakes his head.

“You came between her and I. YOU.” Jungkook growls. “I can’t believe you suggested to kill her- HOW CAN YOU!?! If you don’t love her then leave her!! She’s mine!”

#ask: tpol!jungkook #bro what #umm WTF NAMJOON

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

dionysus x, m | jjk x ♂wiyllt x myg

pairing(s): jungkook x male wiyllt x yoongi — important: contains m/m pairing— male OC is male whatifyoulivelikethat aka me, the author ;)

summary: Not saying they are in love. It's possible. Jeon Jungkook is certainly feeling something. Somehow it's become strangely domestic between him and the man named Dionysus on social media. Min Yoongi wants to be sure about something. And the only way to be sure is to try and dom his lover, who so happens to be the same man Jungkook is into. Ah.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; important! male OC and Yoongi are pansexual and Jungkook is bisexual; this whole thing is extremely gay; discussions about ♂wiyllt's sexuality; D/s smut (hyung kink, handjob, praise kink, cumming on each other's dicks, unprotected anal sex using cum as lube, spanking, m-receiving oral, voyeurism); non-idol!BTS - dom!male OC x sub!Jungkook, dom!Yoongi x sub?male OC; Jungkook's POV to Yoongi’s POV; I hesitated posting this because I'm basically telling you how I would have sex if I had a dick and, well, this is wiyllt, yup

–

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix

-

“I hate you, Jungkook.”

“I told you not to make it a competition, hyung.”

Those dark, dark eyes narrowed, sending a delighted shiver down his spine. Jeon Jungkook found himself smiling, half from amusement, half from knowing he shouldn’t be smiling so earnestly at someone who was so clearly annoyed with him.

But that’s what made it fun.

“Fuck you, man.”

Jungkook bit his lip, desire crawling all over his skin.

Please.

“I’m so fuckin’ sweaty, shit.”

The hand Jungkook knew well raised, long fingers gripping the back of the white t-shirt. A rare moment where he was wearing absolutely no jewelry. No sterling silver rings, no heavy chain bracelet, just flexed knuckles that were slightly red from use, yanking up and pulling the shirt over his head in one swift swoop. Heavy, hot exhale, turning slightly, shaking his lightly sweaty hair out. Long black strands now in thick waves, insistent fingers pushing the majority to the left side.

Broad back on display, displaying black ink along the left side of his spine.

what if you live like that

The words glistened, rivets of sweat along the contours of muscle, slightly interrupted as the man named Dionysus on social media slapped a towel over his shoulder, wiping his face out of Jungkook’s sight.

Not that it mattered because Jungkook was too busy staring at that tattoo and that back.

Those words were the lyrics of a song made by someone else, and Jungkook wanted to jack off onto that tattoo, wanted to shoot his white cum all over those words, turning them milky and hard to read, and then he wanted to lean down and lick it off, sweat and all, whispering against that skin, I want me on you too.

The thoughts made the insides of his mouth dry, craving the taste.

He turned away quickly, deliberately facing the locker, realizing he had been staring too long and thinking too much, struggling to catch his breath all of a sudden.

“I don’t think I can do this every day,” the deep husky voice muttered beside him, flexing his back to roll out his shoulders again. “I’ll leave the good-looking body to you.”

Right. As if you aren’t hot enough already.

Jungkook finally allowed himself to turn his head and sneak a peek at that profile. The line of collarbone, neck, jaw, recognizable mauve lips twisted into a grimace, the shadow of awkwardness trying to avoid his gaze.

“You did really well, though. I think you would be good at boxing if you kept up with it,” Jungkook encouraged him. After all, watching his hyung working out was different side of him he hadn’t seen before. A very attractive side, especially with his attentive fierceness. Almost as sexy as…

“Eh… I don’t really like doing things I know I’m not good at right away. It discourages me.” A husky chuckle, deep in his chest. “But I’ll try it again, maybe. Since you like it.”

“Don’t push yourself so hard next time.”

The other male frowned, wiping his neck. “I don’t want to feel like I’m holding you down.”

Jungkook dropped his voice, keeping a bright smile on his face.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Those sharp dark eyes swiveled to him, eyebrow raising.

Jungkook grinned.

“Uh huh,” the other man said slowly, smirking. “Then maybe try solving the puzzles instead of spearing everything in sight, my Bandana Waddle Dee.”

He was referring to the cute Kirby game he had picked up a few weeks ago and had invited Jungkook to play. Well. Invited was a strong word. His exact words were, uh, there’s a co-op mode if you want to stop staring over my shoulder like that, it’s a little awkward...

“But it’s fun killing the monsters, they look so cute–”

Jungkook froze.

My.

The other male resumed wiping off his torso, reaching into the locker to grab a long-sleeved black shirt.

“I’m just going to shower at home, because right after I’m probably going to lay in bed and contemplate why I thought I could ever keep up with you when it comes to a real workout.”

“H… Hyung.”

Now the other man stilled, slowly pulling down his shirt, turning his head to look at Jungkook.

Those dark, dark eyes said, don’t.

Jungkook pressed his tongue to his lip ring, toying with it nervously.

Dropped his voice low so only he could hear, shaking his head lightly. “Don’t. Not here. You wanna get banned from your favorite gym?” he chided gently, tucking his hands into his black sweatpants even though Jungkook knew he wanted to stoke his cheek to console him. “You wanna come with me? I can make you breakfast since you helped me out today, teaching a newbie like me.”

Those mauve lips curved into an open-mouthed smirk and it was endearing.

Jungkook wanted to melt.

“I’ll teach you anything you want to know, hyung. Anything. If I don’t know, I’ll learn so I can teach you.”

He chuckled and pulled one hand out.

Rested it on Jungkook’s head, ruffling his hair fondly.

A nearly inaudible sigh, something in the darkness that was those eyes, and Jungkook realized the raised right hand shadowed his face a little, shielding them from any outside curious gazes even though the public locker room was mostly empty in the early morning.

“Part of it is the world,” those mauve lips breathed, so quiet, words only for Jungkook. “But most of it is my own faults, and I am sorry.”

Jungkook tried to shake his head but those fingers planted onto his scalp, not letting him turn his head. His breath caught in his throat, feeling those long fingers tangling in his hair, damp from sweat.

The man named Dionysus to everyone else gave him a sly smile.

“Maybe I’ll let you do what you want today.”

He dropped his hand, shrugging.

“Probably not, though.”

To Jungkook, he was by name, and Jungkook breathed it now, barely moving his lips, soft and breathless and needy, savoring the shadow that ghosted the other man’s features, a little bit of surprise, irritation at his own desire, peeved that he didn’t have the last word.

“You’re the worst,” he muttered, reaching into the locker to zip up his duffel bag, yanking it out along with a black metal water bottle. “I’ll see you in the car. Don’t take too long.”

The dark eyebrow raised, and it was clear what that calm, neutral expression meant.

I’ll punish you.

“I’ll leave without you.”

“Okay…”

Jungkook stared into those dark, dark eyes, letting the next word fall from his lips innocently. Honorifics for someone he honored. Of course.

“Hyung.”

The other man half-rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue and turning away from him.

“Punk…”

-

“Hyung?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

Jungkook sat in the passenger’s seat, nervously chewing on the straw of his banana smoothie that had been gifted to him when he got into the car. It was from the drinks bar of the gym, so it had protein in it. An after-workout snack from his hyung with dark, dark eyes and plush mauve lips.

He was driving with one hand, the other resting on his thigh, fingers curled against the inside of loose black sweats.

“How did you know you… you know…” Jungkook mumbled, unsure how to phrase it. “That you were how you are?”

“What?” came the confused reply.

Yeah, obviously what. “Ah… who you like… and stuff like that.”

“Eh…? Oh. Oh, I see,” and then a husky laugh, glancing at the intersection before turning, nodding. “I think I always knew. But knowing is a little different than doing.” He winced, as if he was recalling something unpleasant. “The original meaning behind it… hah, you will just think I’m an asshole for thinking it.”

He took another sip, furrowing his brows. “Thinking what?”

A heavy silence and suddenly the world felt very real and very sad, as if a great weight had tumbled down and was crushing them. Those dark, dark eyes shifted and they stayed on the road, thumb resting on the curve of the wheel. four fingers tight, knuckles white. No silver rings to hide behind.

“I just hated everybody, so I didn’t care who it was.”

Jungkook could feel it too. The residual resentment, understood but not forgotten, let go but not untraceable, and he saw the older male was not proud of what he was about to say.

“I touched them just to do it. The societal concept of wrong meant nothing to me. It was only encouragement. I know now that for a lot of people, those moments with me meant something important but, for me, they were nothing. Something like… little flecks of dust I brushed away. Even if I could go back now… well, he wouldn’t have listened to me, that idiot teenager back then.” He smirked but it was a fraction of his usual cheerfulness, rueful. “At least I still had the sense to not say anything. You see enough scared faces, hear enough please don’t tell anyone, tell yourself enough times that you don’t care about them, and you lose the will to be malicious about revealing secrets.”

“Why…” Jungkook spoke quietly, indicating that he was listening. “Why did you hate everyone, hyung?”

He sighed and there was a small apologetic smile.

“Because they were happy knowing I existed, but I couldn’t be happy knowing I existed.”

There was something very deliberately vague about it, as if he was asking not to delve into it anymore, so Jungkook nodded, sensing this was not the time for that. He wondered what it would have been like, if he met those dark, dark eyes back then, but Jungkook realized his teenage self would have been too close-minded to consider it, unless.

“There weren’t any rumors?”

A slow hum. “People said things, but I was lucky. I was always surrounded by women, so even in the unlikely event that someone tried to start a rumor about me, it quickly got quashed. Nobody believed it because I look and act like what society conventionally considers a man. Also, I like fucking women. And I did. A lot. It was very easy in high school.”

He grimaced.

“Ack… I was going to say it isn’t what it sounds like, but it was exactly what it sounds like. I don’t have a defense for past me.”

His hyung cleared his throat, tapping his thumb against the wheel as he waited for a red light.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

It sounded more like he was talking to himself rather than anyone else.

“I know, hyung.”

He didn’t look at him, but Jungkook could see the faint smile. “What made you want to ask me this, anyway?”

Now Jungkook felt his own ears burn.

“Um…”

He saw the car was turning into the apartment complex now, hunting for his residential parking spot.

“I was thinking the other night… I still don’t really know, but I know I’m attracted to you.”

“I think I deduced that from the boners you try to shove into my mouth or hands, yeah.”

Jungkook squinted, feeling a flare of annoyance that quietly dissipated the second the other man turned and smirked at him, agile tongue between teeth. Okay. He wouldn’t be angry. For now.

“I was wondering if I was ever gonna know,” he sighed as the car was parked.

“Do you need to know right now?”

Jungkook scratched his head, taking another long sip of banana protein smoothie. “Hm, I guess not...”

The car turned off and Jungkook turned his head, finding his safe darkness and mauve lips in a gentle smile, long black hair curling over the left cheekbone.

“This kind of thing can change at any time, you know, depending on who you meet,” that voice purred, deep and husky, ticking his head. “Or who you ask to teach sucking dick to your girlfriend at the time.”

The memory Jungkook so often reminisced about rose to the surface of his thoughts. The first time, watching, the arousal fluttering within, thinking it was only the surrealness of the moment, only the action itself, only how pretty his now ex-girlfriend looked sucking dick, only the dominant nature of how the commands were being given, the Jungkook of the time refusing to believe that the reason for his lust was those dark, dark eyes and hands full of silver rings.

Past him was a dumbass.

“I won’t be offended if you change your mind, Jungkook.”

Those dark, dark orbs, his safe darkness, looked at him now and told him it was okay, told him that he shouldn’t worry about hurting the feelings of someone with such dark eyes, for that blackness held an ocean of monsters deep down.

Currently, his hyung was being a dumbass.

“What do you think your tits would look like if you were a girl, hyung?”

The other man rolled his eyes and started getting out of the car.

“Wait, you didn’t answer the ques–”

-

“Jungkook, get off me.”

He closed the distance, leaving his breath against familiar skin. Copying what he liked, nuzzling his nose against the cheek that held those secretive dimples he had seen earlier.

“Don’t wanna,” he murmured, pushing the other man against the bathroom wall.

“It’ll take me less than ten minutes to rinse off.”

“We can get in together.”

Long fingers worked into his hair, grasping at the roots, and Jungkook let a low gasp escape his lips, savoring the swift tug that sent sparks of pain down his scalp and all over his body, pain that morphed into pleasure as he opened his eyes and found the other male glaring at him.

It was unfair, Jungkook knew. He shouldn’t prey on the other man’s preferences to get what he wanted.

“H-Hyung…”

He let his tongue peek out, licking his lip ring.

Those dark, dark eyes narrowed.

“You…”

He pushed those pesky sweatpants down, tugging insistently at the boxer briefs, the hand in his hair keeping his head in place witnessing the change right before his eyes, exasperation to amusement to slyness, stop feeding my bad habits, whispers between their bodies, don’t wanna, the naked body before him, their shirts already off before he came into the bathroom, whining as his hair was pulled again, the base of the other man’s palm pushing his head forward, towards those mauve lips.

Those dark, dark eyes gazing down at him.

“Tell me what you want then,” that deep, husky voice murmured. “Want to hear it when that pretty mouth of yours, Jungkook.”

This was the feeling, the command that penetrated all of his thoughts, safe in long fingers tangled into his hair, the kiss he craved centimeters away, denying him now, but Jungkook stared into those eyes and he saw it was his, all of it was his, he just had to be patient and wait.

“Want to touch you, hyung.”

Dragged his fingertips down the line of his hip, wrapping his fingers around that hard length, trying to remember all the little things the other man did to him because he still wasn’t good at it yet, and it was so hard to remember, he was just so busy watching the calm expression crack a little, plush mauve lips parting, quiet murmur of pleasure at his touch. His.

No one else’s.

“Want to make you feel good.”

He could feel the cock in his hand twitch, weighted in his palm, and slowly he began to move his hand, keeping a firm but not too tight hold, shuddering at the strange sensation of soft velvet skin and solid stiffness, letting the other male tilt his head back by tugging at his hair, his lips parting, the name falling from his lips.

The name he whispered to himself when he was alone, running his fingers over his cock, imagining it was a hand full of silver rings.

The name he murmured when he was alone, tracing the space beside him in his bed, wondering where the other man was.

The name Jungkook gasped when he was with him, closing his eyes as the kiss met him, lush lips against his, insistent desire and undeniable dominance, nimble tongue coaxing his into a frenzy, trapping the embarrassing whimpers in his chest as he moved his inexperienced hand back and forth, trying to be good, trying to do what he remembered, but it was so hard, he couldn’t focus, the kiss alone was so intense and that tongue thrust into his mouth over and over, making him cry out, his pleas smothered by the palm pressing into the back of his head, deepening the kiss, so hard to think.

“Faster. Tighter.” The purr drifting into his panting mouth. “That’s it.”

He could feel it, the slickness of pre-cum dripping onto his wrist, and Jungkook backed up for a half-second, releasing his hold and slathering his fingers and palm with his saliva, reaching back down and resuming the pace.

A sharp inhale, right against his lip ring. “Mmm, fuck, so dirty.”

Jungkook looked up.

Dark orbs shadowed by lashes, glittering with amusement as he was caught searching for approval.

“A little higher. Closer to the head.”

Jungkook adjusted his grip, keeping the fast and hard pace.

The shadows appeared between them, faces close together once more, lips pressing to the underside of his lower lip, right at the center.

“Good boy.”

If only Jungkook could describe the absolute high he got from such simple praise, fuck, it was insane, it was otherworldly, it was just so, so fucking perfect, feeling the other man’s hand slide down out of his hair and cradle his jaw, airy moan floating directly into his mouth, slick grip and hot pulse right in his hands, knowing he was doing it right because his lips were captured once more, teeth nipping at his lower lip and tongue toying with his lip ring, it’s you, those eyes and those lips and this touch, all him, unbreakable heaven, the one who called himself Dionysus to everyone else but to Jungkook he was by name.

His lips formed it, gasping and needy.

He could feel the smile, devious and fond.

Jungkook looked down, at his own right hand wrapped around another cock that wasn’t his, something he thought would never happen, something he thought he would never want, but he needed it, needed him, and he needed the other man to know that he was serious, that this was not an experimental phase, that this was him who wanted–

With a start, he realized that somehow his own pants were pushed down and falling to his knees, his embarrassingly erect cock poking out and swaying in the air from his furious movement.

“H-Hyung–”                                                         

“Shh.”

He gasped as he felt nails digging into his hips, strong fingers kneading his muscle.

“I want to cum on your dick.”

The image immediately planted into his head.

Jungkook choked, so turned on that he couldn’t breathe.

“I want to cum all over your cock so you know who you belong to,” the heavy, husky whisper purred against his shaking lips, tongue flicking against his lip ring. Teeth sinking into his lower lip, sucking on it and his eyes shifted, shaking, staring into dark, dark ones.

Jungkook could feel him grinning with his lip in between those teeth.

“You’re mine.”

He couldn’t help it.

Jungkook whimpered, a little pathetic, but mostly in desperate agreement because he couldn’t talk.

Those teeth let him go and he could see the devilish smirk now, deep dimple and all.

Then that head snapped down, long black hair falling down his left cheek, casting shadows over his clenched jaw and hiss of release.

The cock in his hand jerked and Jungkook moaned, looking down too, shuddering as he felt a hand grip his cock and another wrap around his pumping hand, stilling it as sharp jerks sprayed streams of white up his throbbing length, warm and thick, dripping all over him, sliding down to his balls, sticking to the insides of his thighs. A picture of absolute obscenity. Milky cum onto taut skin, even onto the dark red head of his cock.

“O-oh, fuuuck…!”

His eyes widened as his hand was directed, the slick contact of both tips sliding against each other, white-hot fire burning through his body, so turned on he thought he was going to pass out.

The hand holding his cock began to move.

Using the cum of the other male as lube.

“W-What…!”

But Jungkook had no desire to stop it, using all of his energy to stand as the head of the other cock pressed into his balls, his own length being jacked off firmly and fiercely, so turned on that he wanted the roughness and somehow the other male could tell – perhaps it was the pleading, mortifyingly loud moans that he was making – rubbing the head of his cock against Jungkook’s balls as he got him off.

Unlike him, the man who named himself Dionysus was an expert at getting men off.

It didn’t matter though, because Jungkook was so far gone that he could barely blurt out his release.

“I’m cu–”

He gasped and pitched forward, groaning as he stared, shooting white all over the base of the cock that his hand was still wrapped around, feeling the viscous thick liquid seep in between his fingers, the scent of sex twice as strong now, salty and heavy, trickling down their legs.

Oh my God.

The other male hummed, grabbing Jungkook’s hand and casually smearing the younger male’s release all over his balls, satisfied sighing above Jungkook’s head.

Holy fuck.

He just didn’t care.

Those long fingers mixed their orgasms together, spreading it over his cock and sighing in triumph.

Jungkook lifted his head.

The smirk greeted him, plush mauve lips and deep dimple.

“Fuck me,” Jungkook breathed.

Dark eyebrows raised.

“Fuck me… with your cum-covered cock, hyung.”

He saw the faint hesitation, and then panic overcame him, what if he doesn’t want me, then Jungkook heard the under-breath murmur, eh, whatever, we’re going to shower right after anyway, a wash of relief in realizing it wasn’t him, jumping as the other male kicked his discarded clothes aside, pushing down on Jungkook’s back.

“Bend over.”

Jungkook found himself colliding into the sink counter, gasping as he stared at his face in the mirror. Messy black hair, swollen lips from kisses, ass in the air as he was shifted into place, glancing up and seeing a curtain of black over that face, a single dark orb gazing at him, small smile on those lips.

“I’ll go slow.”

Jungkook shook his head.

“Just fuck me.”

He heard the sound of wet hand on cock.

“You are crazy, Jungkook.”

And he cried out as the sudden feeling of fullness sank into him, a little painful at first, and yet he was getting used to it. Fuck, he even liked it, the feeling of being taken like this, the combination of erotic high, slick cum, and the knowledge that it was his orgasm and his hyung’s mixed together, the perfect cocktail to throw all caution into the wind and ride on pure endorphins alone, moaning as the hips smacked into his ass, hitting him deep. A pause, simply to throb inside him, oh fuck, he could feel it all, again, just as steady and just as hard, yes, hyung, yes, heavy pants above him, looking up and seeing that disheveled state, pleasure all over that face, sweat glistening on his chest, fuck, Jungkook, stop using the honorific like that, damn you, and he grinned, seeing those dark, dark eyes flicker down and the scowl upon seeing his expression in the mirror.

“Bad boy.”

Smack!

Jungkook moaned as he felt the sting of pain flare over his ass, hard cock pumping into him, his own cock swinging in the air, harder and harder.

“Hyung.”

Smack!

“Hyung…”

Another slap, switching sides of his ass, making his hips bounce on that stiff length and his eyes roll back in his head.

“I told you, stop it.”

“N-No, hyung…”

He whined as he felt their tense thighs collide, his muscles burning at the overexertion, the previous morning workout on top of this making his knees weak, but that would have happened anyway because Jungkook was high on the pain, acting childish to persuade those long fingers to dig into his hips and fuck his ass with vicious strength, pushing back against it to get it deeper, craving that full, electric feeling that he got from being directed and used.

Jungkook looked up, seeing sweat clinging to collarbones and defined arms.

God, I hope I look even half that sexy when I fuck.

“F… Fuck!”

The hips rammed into his ass and Jungkook yelped, smacking his palms into the counter and throwing his head back as he felt the cock inside him twitch and pump into him, hearing the low moan of his name, their sounds mixing together with another roll of their hips, feeling another throb. It didn’t feel as much as the first orgasm but Jungkook could still feel it, the head squishing against his inner walls.

“Hah… hah…”

He felt hands slide up his sides, spreading over his chest. Nails running over his nipples and making him whine as he was dragged up.

“Come on, Jungkook… I need to shower… Come.”

Together.

“You’re going to have to make your own breakfast, I’m going to be late at this rate,” the gruff voice grunted behind him as he yanked on the handle and showered ice-cold water down on them.

“Ah!”

“Hold on, it’ll get warm. I’m so fucking sweaty and my legs hurt. Fuck you.”

They finally detached, and Jungkook turned around, water causing his black hair to plaster to his head, grinning at that raised eyebrow, trying to muster an expression of annoyance but failing, the hint of a dimple appearing as a smile appeared.

“You did, hyung,” Jungkook chirped, water clogging his ears.

A playful grimace.

“You’re the worst.”

-

“You look so different.”

A frown. “Thanks?”

It really was different. Crisp button-down shirt, ink black, adjusting the sleeve to button it over his bracelets. It had an intricate open collar than framed his clavicle and necklaces, the black guitar pick standing out. Black slacks that seemed to be tailored to his legs with how well they fit. His black hair pushed back and tied, a spare lock over his forehead. He smelled like his cologne now, green tea and toasted marshmallow. He must had added a little something to his eyebrows because they looked more defined and sharper than usual.

“I clean up well, I know,” the deep husky voice chuckled, slipping his wallet and phone in his pockets.

“You always look handsome, hyung.”

The man who named himself Dionysus turned his head and gave him a strange look.

Jungkook grinned back, holding a large set of chopsticks and a tub of kimchi.

“Can you not do that?”

“Do what?”

Those dark, dark eyes narrowed. He sighed, picking up the leather jacket on the chair and the bag next to it. A plain black leather briefcase with simple clean lines and silver hardware.

“Oh, hyung, I’m almost done, I can pack you some–”

“Jungkook, if I stay in my own home for one more second, I will have to explain to my boss that I’m late because my dick was down your throat and I’m trying to stay employed so my dick can be down your throat in the future, so please.”

He shrugged on the jacket and cocked an eyebrow.

“Stop being perfect and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Jungkook nearly dropped the glass jar of kimchi.

“I… I’m perfect?” he squeaked.

Those mauve lips quirked into a smirk, dimple on display.

“Don’t break anything.”

His eggs were surely burning but Jungkook watched the other man go as if he was in a trance, waving with the chopsticks, he said, suddenly warm all over even though the door was closing, he really did say, remembering all those other mornings when his hyung had poked him on the head, wake up, eat breakfast, and Jungkook had been eager to repay the favor but even in this refusal, he didn’t feel slighted at all.

“Ow!”

Oil spat out and hit his bare back, not having bothered to put a shirt on – or even pants – after the shower, and Jungkook panicked as his egg, pork, and kimchi mixture turned black-brown in the pan that was not his, so he spent the next ten minutes trying to salvage his meal and remove all traces of the burn in the sink, wincing as the hot pan burned him a little, but inside he was warm and fluttery from the praise.

It was different this time.

He could tell.

Jungkook furrowed his brows. Come it think of it, it reminded him of someone.

-

Don’t be that guy.

Min Yoongi rubbed his face and sighed, his phone face down on his desk.

Just don’t.

He began to pick at his cuticles and then stopped, not wanting to mess with them. A shiver slid through him. He remembered long fingers around his, massaging his hands, don’t be like that, and he remembered trying to pull his hands away but these fingers remained, closing around his, index fingertip tracing his inner wrist, involuntary gasp slipping from his lips.

“Yoongi.”

He looked up now but no dark, dark eyes greeted him.

He swallowed, trying to swallow the memory too, tasting the kiss that had followed, treat your hands better, they’re your tools for music and, the second word swallowed between their lips, holding that hand that held his tightly, his thumb running over silver rings, and Yoongi believed in them, those hands and that word swallowed between their lips, believed so strongly that it was hard for him to accept it, so he was sitting here trying to convince himself that he didn’t want it.

It was not working.

Who would have guessed?

Yoongi found that he could be brave in front of those dark, dark eyes but, without them, reality sucked – society being one thing and himself being the other – and while he knew he shouldn’t compare, he did, glancing at that photo of his friends. To the smile of the bright white teeth accented by an underlip mole and a lip piercing, their complicated thing getting more complicated.

Yoongi closed his eyes.

He needed him.

Silver rings, plush mauve lips, the familiar darkness.

He thought of the question.

Then Yoongi opened his eyes, turned his phone over, and sent a text.

-

“I want to try this time.”

A curve of mauve lips, amused and sly.

“Try what?”

It was pretty obvious what, but then again that was part of the game. A kind of chess, the pieces being more than just words. Facial expressions. Bodies. The strict grip of Min Yoongi’s hands on those shoulders, forcing him down to his knees. And those dark, dark eyes would look up at him, amused, looking so deliciously sexy in his notched, open-collared, crisp black dress shirt, not even flinching as Yoongi removed the hair tie. A cascade of black down the left side of his face. Messy, unprofessional, framing the dimple that appeared with that smirk.

Yoongi knew the other male could turn the tables at any time, but he wasn’t doing it.

He was simply watching, curious of Yoongi’s actions. Never not himself, so assured and unbreakable, but Yoongi found that this was better, that he liked it like this.

Because there was no point in fucking someone that wasn’t him.

There were some things that Yoongi was afraid of, yes. Some he suspected the other was afraid of too, but their lips were sealed when it came to things like that. But there was action that could speak louder than words, and they relied on that, perhaps a little too much.

Yoongi wondered, does he not trust me?

He decided to test it.

He was fine being the one controlled. Liked it. But most importantly it was the other man’s safe space, his ruling realm and Yoongi wasn’t one to object to the ruler of that sexually charged realm. He liked it, for he felt free in the loss of control, free to succumb to his emotions and thrive in them, free to want without a hint of repercussion. That was not easy to achieve for most and even harder to find someone that you actually wanted to fuck.

And yet.

That was their respective safe spaces.

So, Yoongi wondered.

Do you trust me?

Those mauve lips opened, glistening tongue sliding out.

Yoongi bit his lip and slid his hard cock down that throat.

Reached down and gripped a thick fistful of that black hair and rolled his hips into that face, the face of the man who called himself Dionysus on social media, but to Yoongi he was by name, by voice, by moan, those dark, dark orbs looking up at him through lashes, so dark they were almost black, a little quirk of his eyebrows and then…

The darkness clouded, painting naughty submissiveness in them.

Not real, no, but effective.

Oh, so very effective.

Yoongi clenched his jaw but it was too late, it could feel the power of that shift in gaze, feel the rush from seeing someone who was usually in control suddenly giving it up to him, and it was euphoric, raw, real, no matter how fake the moment was because even as that expert tongue coiled around his cock and rubbed against the underside of his length, manipulating the pressure, adding to the sensation, driving him insane, even so, Yoongi could feel the power of being the one who was doing the face-fucking.

It was being handed to him and that irked him a little but Yoongi couldn’t deny the pleasure.

Even below, you’re still on top.

Those plush lips closed in around his girth, cheeks sucking in a little. Dark, dark eyes gleaming with comprehension. Yoongi slowed, driving his hips in a little more roughly instead, and felt that head tip back, sliding him deeper into the back of the throat.

“Fuck…”

It was infuriating how hard this was making him.

He heard a zipper sliding down.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” he growled under his breath, pulling at that black hair and those eyes glittered, tongue sliding to the underside of the head, to that thin skin under the slit, rubbing, teasing, melting him, and Yoongi grimaced, his hold loosening. He meant to cause pain but it was being turned on him, the soft lips circling around the underside of the head, igniting his nerves, and he was losing this battle.

He felt a finger tap his thigh.

Yoongi looked down, past the open chest with the black guitar pick necklace surrounded by purple bite marks, down to the unzipped slacks and pushed down boxer briefs, down to the hand wrapping around that hard cock with the dripping dark red tip and, fuck, a small part of him wanted to be fucked with it, right now, forget this being-in-control-bullshit, but that insistent mouth swallowed his entire length again and the right hand underneath gripped that cock, the fingers of the left hand circling around the balls and squeezing them as he jacked himself off under Yoongi.

Holy… fuck…!

In his nice work clothes, on his knees, gripping his cock and brutally stroking it, massaging his balls with those long powerful fingers, the other man shoved Yoongi’s cock into his throat and indicated Yoongi to fuck his face.

Dark, dark eyes challenging him.

Yoongi knew he had the power and he also knew he was being pushed to use it against his will, but who cared about that when the image was so undeniably, overpoweringly, obscenely arousing?

No, Yoongi did not give a fuck.

He grabbed the other man’s head and fucked those plush mauve lips with fierce controlled force, down that tight throat, oh, fuck, the sound so lewd and wet, the moan vibrating his cock, the despairingly fast sound of hand on flesh, and he could glance down and watch it, no expense spared for him, punishing pace and glassy dark, dark eyes that knew what they were doing, knew this was insane and excessive and so, so fucking hot that Yoongi could not resist, could not look away, that body, that mind, the utter depravity, and he found himself growling, low and dangerous.

“Cum on those nice pants.”

He let his open-mouthed smirk show, knowing the other couldn’t smirk back.

Actually.

Yoongi felt a hot, tingling shiver slide up his spine as he spied the flash of dimple on one cheek despite stuffing that mouth with cock.

Fucking shit.

But, once again, actions speak louder than words, and so they did, in the closing of those eyes, in the furrow of those dark eyebrows, in the sharp shallow breath and the sudden tightness around his throbbing cock, tongue rubbing harder and faster, and Yoongi felt himself fall apart a little bit, not the plan but nothing he could do now, mustering up all his strength to drive his hips forward while avoiding causing any pain, on a tightrope and the line getting thinner, so warm, so wet, so loud, looking down, so close, Yoongi could see it in how fast that hand was moving, that thick head purple-red and shiny, so close, his jaw loosening, the name slipping from Yoongi’s lips in a wanton moan, clutching fistfuls of long black hair, his own hanging down and covering the sides of his face, blinders to everything except the man under him.

Pleasure.

So much pleasure.

How could it be wrong?

He felt the groan radiate from the other man’s chest and Yoongi stuffed it back down with his cock, savoring the sound, image, and scent, all of it, the distressed noise and squish of saliva, the tension rippling down that torso to jerking hips, stream of white dripping down between long fingers and onto black fabric, dark stains that Yoongi vainly hoped stayed there, perhaps simply for his own fantasies. He could smell the orgasm, so strong, so heady, right under him, and that was it.

Yoongi jammed his cock all the way down that tight throat and moaned as he came into that tight wet warmth, his fingers curling down, dragging black hair over those dark brows, shudder after shudder, his hips flinching, letting the pleasure consume and invigorate him.

No one else.

He could fuck other people but no one mattered like this one.

He felt the other man swallow and he shivered, sparks of sensitivity swarming through him. Running his fingers through that thick hair, messing it up, pushing it back, looking down, his picture, his, lidded darkness surveying him as that agile tongue circled his length, licking him off, devouring his cum hungrily, erratic breath wisping over Yoongi’s trembling crotch.

The other male smiled at him, the corners of those mauve lips around his still-hard cock.

Yoongi heard a whimper behind him.

He turned his head, slowly, from dark, dark eyes to over his shoulder, past his curtain of black hair.

Turning.

Large, inquisitive, dark brown orbs watching them, taking in every detail, his tongue toying with his silver lip ring and sitting on a chair with his thighs pressed together, his hands obediently behind his back. Yoongi saw the sides of the baggy gray shirt were bunched up, trapped between tattooed fingers and un-inked ones, gripping the sides of his shirt so he was not tempted to touch himself.

Jeon Jungkook whimpered again, giving Yoongi his best pleading eyes.

Yoongi shrugged.

“You said you wanted to watch.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything, gazing up and down. All over. Pleading with those deep, dark eyes that shimmered with lust and longing. There was an innocence about it despite the very clearly dirty nature of the want, a pureness in the absolute need, pulling tighter at the sides of his shirt, the tent in his pants rising as Jungkook licked his lips, looking down and keeping his gaze there, small sounds in his throat begging for a taste.

He was a good boy, always doing as he was told.

Yoongi understood how the man named Dionysus couldn’t resist Jungkook.

“Come here then,” he purred to the younger man.

The power, so real and raw, his pulse thundering as he watched Jungkook fall from the chair, tentative on his hands and knees, not looking at Yoongi but at his destination, and there was no disappointment there, only a strange kind of satisfaction as Jungkook dipped his hand down and licked those long fingers covered in cum, moaning as he placed his moan over that spent cock.

The man who named himself Dionysus sucked in a breath, head shivering in Yoongi’s hands, and he turned back to those dark, dark eyes. A quick glance. A slow, open-mouthed smirk, Yoongi’s own, seeing the weakness in those eyes for those desperate, gentle licks below them, needy whines from the youngest, and Yoongi pressed his cock into that mouth a little deeper, hard again, savoring the wet warmth, trapping the other man between his cock and Jungkook’s serving mouth.

There was a time that Yoongi worried that he would be replaced by Jungkook.

It ashamed him that he had thought that way, back then and recalling it now.

A moan vibrated from his cock to his core, to his spine, to his chest, all the way to his head, buzzing him with pleasure and satisfaction.

Yoongi looked down.

Dark, dark eyes gazed back up at him.

He trusted that darkness and Yoongi could see that the darkness trusted him too.

-

dionysus xi

-

masterpost

#bts smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x male wiyllt #jungkook x male oc #yoongi x oc #yoongi x male oc #yoongi x male wiyllt

[ace-angel-judas]

Tribe au with KySeok and Yoongi and Estelle?

“What in the actual-“

Kyra’s words are stopped as Estelle slapped a hand over the woman’s mouth, pressing her own finger to her lip.

Their idea of going hiking in a foreign country was probably a stupid one, but the history nerd in Estelle couldn’t fight it as soon as Kyra rambled on about an ancient tribe in the area.

Now, they were in a net.

“Shh, this is obvious a trap for an animal,” Estelle whispered, “And who ever set it, will come back,”

“Well no shit!” Kyra almost yelled, her accent coming out thick, “Do ya have a knife or something? Cut our way-“

Estelle wrapped her hands around Kyra’s mouth again, only Kyra watched the way she was looking outside the net. Following her gaze, the red haired woman gasped.

Two men had crept out of the thick jungle, both with black hair, dressed in what looked like cloth simply covering their lower halfs. Kyra noticed the spear and bows in their hands, while Estelle noticed the necklaces.

“Yer shitting me..,” Kyra whispered, “Now we’re going to end up on a fuckin’ true crime podcast!”

Estelle’s face dropped, looking at her best friend with a deep sigh.

Both the men circled around them, they spoke a language that niether of the girls understood. They gestured and pointed, Kyra jumping with each motion.

“I don’t think they’ll kill us,” Estelle whispered.

“Uh, they have weapons,” Kyra huffed.

After those words, a snapping sound flicked through the air before both girls found themselves back on the ground.

Kyra scrambled out of the net, only to be stopped by one of the men. Estelle tried to untangle herself before the net was pulled off, the other staring down at her menacingly.

He slowly crouched down, grabbing a lock of her hair. He examined the golden waves, curiosity on his face.

“Jesus Hail Mary, he’s gonna skin you for your hair..,” Kyra whispered.

An arm grabbed Kyra’s wrist, only for her to turn around and sharply slap the male. Estelle’s eyes went wide while the male seemed to laugh.

Another discussion between the men was held before both girls were grabbed, being lead through the thick jungle.

“Fuck me, we’re gonna get eaten,” Kyra whined.

“I don’t think there the cannibalistic type, they’d be wearing bones if they were,” Estelle pointed out.

“That doesn’t make me feel better!”

[bang-to-the-tan]

Moth to Flame

Chapter 13

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: (hoo boy) Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Sloppy Seconds, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Degradation,Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Handjob, Masturbation, Cumplay, Threesome (M/M/F), Foursome (M/M/M/F), Voyeurism, Slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

Words: 11.1K (jesus tittyfucking CHRIST)

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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Yoongi’s sweatpants fit well enough to get by in, matched with another of Namjoon’s hoodies—this time in a tan color. (How many hoodies does one man need? You’re reminded again of Jin’s seemingly endless supply of clothing, though you don’t dare mention the similarity) The flip flops he’s lent you are a little on the large side, but you doubt it really matters. You’re just glad to be wearing shoes again. As you wait by the door for Namjoon to get his keys and slide his arms through his jacket, tugging on a bucket hat and hanging a pair of sunglasses onto his shirt, you’re still trying to process your emotions. Outside. With other people. Other humans, even. Are you going to run? Are you going to try to escape? It feels like that’s what you should be planning.

“Oh.” Namjoon catches your attention as you muse, pulling dark, smokey fabric your way and wrapping it around your neck. You pluck distractedly at one of the fringes hanging off it, meeting his gaze after a second.

“Just in case,” he says, shifting the scarf around your shoulders more securely. “For the marks.”

“They look bad?”

He tilts your head to the side, inspecting you with a quirk of his lips. “Mm. No. Not really. Kinda healed. But just in case. Don’t want any awkward questions.”

Awkward questions. Like, ‘blink twice if you’re being held hostage’? That kind of awkward? You allow him to tuck the edges back in, hiding the evidence of where you’ve been. What you’ve been doing. What’s been done to you. You grimace. Your head still hurts, and the world has begun spinning a little when you turn your neck too quickly.

You blink, and you’re in the passenger’s seat of the car, staring out the window while Namjoon talks. Vaguely, you’re aware of what he’s saying. That he thinks it’s awfully important. You beg to differ.

“—find you on any, like, missing persons databases so I think we’re in the clear, but just to be safe, y’know. This is…it’s a risk. You understand?”

You hum, working your jaw. You wish he’d gotten you something a little stronger for the headache. It’s better than it was, but not gone. Swear it gets worse when he talks, and he’s talking a lot.

“I need you to behave yourself. Don’t make a scene. If you act out, then we can’t do this anymore.”

You roll your eyes, even knowing that it’s going to twinge at your migraine.

“I’m not gonna run around screaming about being kidnapped, Joon,” you grumble.

“I know. I know, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I promised you we’d let you go when we’ve…sorted something else out.”

“That’s a different phrasing than you used last time.”

“I’m trying. Okay? Just—I’m not trying to keep you prisoner.”

“Hence the handcuffs.”

You flick a glance over at him just in time to catch the tick of his jaw as he narrows his eyes at the road ahead.

“That is…not the same thing.”

“If it’s sexy, then kidnapping is okay.”

The exasperated snort of air that he answers with is partly humored and partly frustrated.

“You are, annoying sometimes, you know that?”

“I get to be, I think.” You turn back to the window. “Considering.”

“…yeah. Alright. Considering.”

 The store has too many fucking people in it, is the thought that occurs to you. At first, pulling into the parking lot, you’re excited to see them. Human beings, running amok, running free. You feel like an animal at a zoo released into the wild. Ordinary people, milling about, going about their ordinary lives. It’s invigorating.

That feeling quickly fades when you actually get into the building. The smells, too-sharp chemicals and body odor hits you immediately; cheaply, quickly cooked food and even cheaper body spray. The noises. Chattering, obnoxious laughing heard from the other side of the store, children shrieking and shouting. A cart down the way has a squeaky wheel and you can track it through the aisles. You ruminate on thoughts of violence perpetrated by the item in question itself, of picking it up and throwing it out the finger-smudged windows with the screeching baby still inside it.

Namjoon’s hand on yours squeezes reassuringly. It’s unclear to you whether he can sense your discomfort but you don’t think you’ll mention it if it’s possible to avoid doing so. You can’t imagine how unbearably smug he’d be to learn that you’d rather be around him than them. Once you’re in the store, he lifts his sunglasses, but leaves the hat on.  

“Not gonna burn to a crisp in the sunlight?” You ask after a moment of watching a child attempt to shove his entire hand up one nostril.

“Nah. Just a little sensitive on the eyes.”

“The super cool, far-seeing, all-knowing vampire eyes.”

“Those ones.”

“I should have brought a flashlight to the club, is what you’re telling me.”

He chuckles, shrugging. “Maybe so.”

He leads you to the clothing section, still holding your hand, and there isn’t an atom in your body that is even vaguely alright with the idea of letting him out of your sight. There’s a feeling like you’d get swept up in this sea of people, lost in a world so entirely foreign to you. You know you used to belong here. This used to be yours.

But flicking numbly through shirts and pants, skirts, jackets, mumbling half-remembered guesses at measurements, listening to the cacophony around you, lost in the harsh overhead lights…you don’t belong here. You aren’t sure whether it’s more upsetting to think that you don’t now, or that once upon a time, you did. Once upon a time, you didn’t question it.

A gaggle of teenaged girls passes by. For a third time. They stare at Namjoon in turns, giggling and speeding up, skittering past, chattering to each other excitedly. Their idea of stealth leaves a lot to be desired.

“You have admirers.”

Namjoon cocks his head, lips pursing, as he pulls a t-shirt off the rack and holds it up to you appraisingly. “I’m ignoring them.”

“Not hungry?”

His eyes flit to yours. “Never teenagers.” He replies, low, firm. He sounds almost upset. “Never kids.”

You hear the click of a phone camera and a high-pitched giggle of embarrassment, the forcibly hushed whispers of ‘turn off the noise turn off the noise, oh my god!’.

“Not even annoying ones?”

“If you really want to discourage them, you could kiss me.” He says instead, lightly, but his eyes flick to yours and you can taste the heat behind them.

“That’ll do it, you think?” you echo sardonically.

He hums, nodding once in affirmation.

Before you can think too hard, you slide a hand over his on the shirt hanger, guiding it back towards the rack so that you can close the gap between you. Like the first time, he doesn’t move at first. Allows you to crane upwards, struggle to brush your lips together, before he finally acquiesces and takes the remaining space, laying a lingering kiss against your mouth. He’s warm, soft. His lips taste like him. Like how he smells. Like Namjoon. The two of you lock gazes as you part, and you willfully ignore the electricity shimmying down your body.

“I don’t like the color of that one,” you break the silence after a pause. He blinks slow, a grin crawling across his face.

“No?”

“No. But the one behind it is nice.”

“Anything for baby.”

You don’t allow him the warmth that curls inside of you at that.

 The two of you end up standing in line, holding a modest armful of clothing that you’re pretty sure will fit, waiting for your turn at the checkout. It’s not even a matter of what you’re planning to buy at this point—your headache has only gotten worse and it’s all you can do not to lose your fucking mind. You reached the breaking point about ten minutes ago and you’re absolutely going to go batshit if you don’t leave this store immediately. Which is why when Joon starts doing that ‘patting himself down in surprise’ motion, you’re thrown into palpable despair.

“Oh, shit.”

“No. No, Namjoon.” You plead through gritted teeth, throwing him a desperate look.

“My wallet’s in the car.”

“Damn you, goddamn you—“

He grabs your arms with an apologetic smile that dimples his cheeks. “Just stand off to the side. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

“No, Namjoon. No.”

But he’s already skipping away from you, holding up two fingers and mouthing ‘two minutes’ back your way. You hate him. You hope he gets run over while he’s out there.

You trudge over to a nearby empty counter, dumping your armful onto it, resisting the urge to throw yourself on the pile and pull a pair of jeans over your head. Your brain hurts, your teeth are chattering, it’s too bright, it’s too loud, it smells, god, it smells, you had no idea you were so sensitive, you are so ready to go home. And by now you don’t even care that you’re calling it home. You can’t afford to care. What you wouldn’t do for more medication. For that turtle. Oh, how you lament the absence of that heavenly reptile.

 “Hey.”

You start at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, sounding up and away but too close to the back of your head. You turn, casting your glance up at the tall man standing by the counter. He’s not a worker; instead of their overly bright getup he’s sporting a leather jacket and black jeans. You don’t understand why he’s talking to you, if that’s the case, and you’re not really in sure how to pretend otherwise at the moment. His grin is crooked, raising his eyebrows expectantly, but at your expression his mischievous look fades.

“…Sorry, I thought I knew you!” He says after an awkward moment. Your heart seizes. Knew you?

He gestures with his hands as he explains. “Y’know, from the back, you look—I thought I recognized you.”

“…O-oh.” You aren’t sure what to say to that. Fuck, you sincerely hope he was mistaken. You hadn’t even considered what would happen if someone who used to know you sees you. The person you were before…before this. You don’t think you recognize him.

There’s another pause, where you turn away slightly, willing this moment to be over, but he doesn’t move. The moment instead stretches into forever. You would like to cease existing.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine! I’m—“ God, it’s been a long time since you’ve spoken to real people. You crane back around, forcing a smile that you hope doesn’t look too forced. “I’m fine. Just waiting. My, um.” You stumble over a way to define Namjoon, deciding in the end to abandon it entirely. “He left his wallet in the car.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t look convinced, flashing you a cursory up-and-down glance. Actually, looking at him, he’s pretty handsome himself. Wide lips, strong nose. A jawline to kill for. His neck is thick. You wonder what else of him—no, no. No. No. You like his eyes, you decide weakly. He’s got kind eyes. Good, nice eyes.

“Do you mind if I talk to you?”

You frown, throwing him another glance. Misgiving pools in your stomach warningly. You really, really aren’t in any kind of state to be carrying conversations with strangers. “Uh.”

He casts a look around, casual if not for the serious slant to his strong brows. He leans forward, pulling one edge of his jacket to the side. You see a flash of silver, recognize the badge hooked to the inside, and it clicks in your head, despite the chaos spinning around the edges of the world like a sick carousel. You don’t see much of the ID badge underneath but for his name, and his serious-faced photo, before he tucks it back away. Jackson. His name is Jackson.

“…You’re a cop.”

“Nothing’s the matter,” he reassures, holding out a hand placatingly, eyes watching yours. “Just like to ask you a few questions.” He jerks his head at the entrance.

“Come with me.”

Oh. Relief floods your limbs so intense you almost sigh aloud. That’s okay, then. Yeah, that’s fine. The clothes’ll be alright here for a second longer, you’re sure. You’re already following him as he peels off the counter and starts walking casually, your doubts melting away, making your steps lighter. Local police. Just a few questions, yeah. You can handle that. God, you were so afraid for a minute. The thought makes you chuckle under your breath when his back is turned as he leads you out the door, turning the corner to an alcove by the entrance. You definitely can handle whatever this handsome stranger wants to dole out.

He turns when you get there, stepping to the side so you can tuck yourself by the side of the building, out of view of any nosy people.

“How can I help you, officer?” you ask demurely, a smile curling the edge of your lips. Just being out of that building is helping your headache immensely. It’s fading as you speak, releasing its grip on your jaw, your thoughts.

He cranes over his shoulder to survey the parking lot behind him and you take the brief respite to admire the way his shirt pulls across subtle pecs, across broad shoulders, underneath the jacket that does little to hide his physique. The way he fills those black jeans. You like the obvious power in what you can see. Is it weird to be checking the cop out? No. No, certainly not. You resist the urge to bite your lip when he looks back to you and grins again. He’s cute when he smiles.

“So where are you from?”

“Ah…not too far from here, actually,” you return, playing at shy.

“No?” he chuckles, and the giggle threatening to bubble up past your lips finally wins over. You sway a little with the girlish sound. It’s all part of the act. You’re a normal human girl talking to a normal, albeit strikingly handsome, police officer. Everything is fine. “You sure? You aren’t from a little further up north? Think very carefully.”

You shake your head, grinning. The world around you spins delightfully when you do, fuzzing slightly about the edges. It’s really warm out here. You didn’t notice that before. It’s nice. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so?” he echoes, stepping closer. That’s good. You like that. Your heartbeat quickens in your throat. “Weird way to answer…are you having trouble remembering?”

“Maybe.” You giggle again, feeling a thrill wash through your frame when he takes another step forward, threatening to invade your space. You fall back to the wall, leaning your head against it to allow yourself a better view of his smirk. Your head doesn’t want to stay upright properly, but the wall helps. If you can just get him a little closer…maybe you could…he is very handsome. And his lips…You stare at them with hunger pooling in your gut, intently watching the way they pull when he scoffs. Very kissable. Check.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess,” he murmurs in that low growl of his, “About who you really are…”

One hand comes up to brace against the wall, caging you in. You can feel his warmth now. Can smell the mint on his breath. Your stomach twists in anticipation. There’s something familiar in his expression now. A darkness. A hunger. You’re beyond pleased to see it in a face so handsome.

“Going by these…” he hums, and you feel a finger dragging against the column of your neck, slipping underneath the scarf. You huff a pleased breath, craning to press more of your skin towards him, nearly moaning when he presses his hot palm against the bitemarks in a curious fashion. “And…this…” His hand slides down, disentangling from the fabric, fingertips grazing your sternum, too close to the mark at your breast. He’s finding your little secrets very easily, you think with a hushed giggle. You wonder if he’ll get the next one. You hope he gets the next one. Arousal crawls down your spine and you arch at the thought, suddenly desperate for it.

“Hah, fuck, wow, that’s a reaction, huh? They treat you nice?”

You’re nodding, whimpering when his hand starts towards your hip. He nuzzles forward, presses a testing peck against your lips but you surge towards him, clutching at his wide shoulders, pulling him closer. He chuckles breathlessly against your mouth as you kiss him, a free hand going to his wrist and tugging it towards your inner thigh. He tastes like mint gum, warm lips caressing yours firmly, supple and pliant.

“Are you good for them?” he whispers between kisses. “Hmm?”

“So good,” you simper, humming when he nips lightly at your mouth. “I’m so good.”

“What do they call you? Are you their little whore? Little pet? Hm?” he clutches the meat of your thigh suddenly, and your approving squeak is muffled by his tongue, wet, slippery, sloppy.

“Could you be good for me too?” he growls when you part, licking across your swollen lips. The sound of it, already so rough, so low, has you twitching. “Could you add one more to your little collection?”

“Yes,” you’re tugging him closer, writhing when his hand ghosts to cup you between the legs, firm, possessive, demonstrative. “Y-Yes, yes, I can be good.”

“Can you be quiet?” he adds with a hushed laugh, raising his eyebrows at your fevered expression as you continue to scrabble at him, yanking on his jacket, his wrist, begging and twisting. “You have to—shh,” he shushes you when you keen, pressing his fingers closer to your pussy through Yoongi’s sweatpants, feeling for your heat and finding it easily, “You’re too fucking loud. You have to be quiet, or else—“

“She’s very vocal.”

You almost cry out in pleasure when you hear the voice that breaks through the cop’s low mumbling, arching and trembling against the wall. But he told you to hush, so you bite down on your lip, vision swimming with sweet obedience and heady recognition.

“I can see that.” The dark-eyed officer chuckles after a beat, his hand slipping from your apex despite your muffled, disappointed noise and attempts to pull him back. “Shocked nobody’s been called in for domestic disturbance around yours yet.” He pulls his hand from you easily, leaning back and turning to better address the owner of voice behind him.

Arousal skitters up your spine, coiling in your limbs, at the way Namjoon flicks you a momentary, disapproving look, his jaw ticking. Is he thinking of punishing you for this? You hope so. But his plump lips curve into an overly-pleasant smile, eyes crinkling as they cast to the other man.

“By all means, don’t let me interrupt.” He says smoothly. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I’d hate to get in any real trouble,” is the reply, just as cool. “Have to set an example for Yugyeom, right?”

Your body itches. Everything is warm, soft, bubbly, and the heat of the man in front of you is like a furnace, the hot center of your universe. You sneak your fingers into his belt loops, scooting him closer to you, and he allows it with a vaguely smug expression.

Namjoon’s smile doesn’t move, frozen on his face. “Your border is a few miles north from here, isn’t it? You’re cutting it a little close, don’t you think? Jackson?”

Jackson blinks, straightening. He grabs your wandering hand by the wrist from where it had travelled around his side to his zipper (how on earth did it get there, you wonder with a snicker), holding it up and away from his body with one wide palm. You whine through your nose. “We’re just passing through.” His tone has turned more serious. Respectful. “Avoiding the main roads. Won’t be spending more than a few hours this close to your territory.”

“Passing through?”

Jackson hesitates.

“We’re leaving, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile falls, curving into a confused frown, his brow creasing. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“It’s too slim here. We’re not having any luck lately. It’s my turn to disappear anyways.”

You press up against Jackson’s side, trying to slide your other hand up under his shirt, but he catches that one, too, holding you prisoner against the tacky feel of leather and his body heat. You mewl pointedly, hands straining, rocking against him. What’s he so busy for? Can’t he see that you need it? Your mouth waters. You need it…Up against this wall, bent over—you imagine Namjoon joining in and the thought has you aching. You can always prove how good you are. Can always show your new friend how good you can be for him.

Namjoon’s frown takes his lips with it, bares his teeth in a grimace. “You can’t be serious. What, already? What are we supposed to do?”

Jackson cocks his head in your direction and returns your sly grin with a raise of his eyebrows, briefly looking you over with an expression that makes you wet. You hum, trying to send him psychic requests for touching, kissing, biting through your locked gaze.  

“Looks like you’re already doing something.”

“She…she was an accident.”

“And here I thought you and Jin had finally made nice.” Jackson looks back to Namjoon, neck lolling with disbelief. He lets go of your hands, spinning and suddenly disentangling you from him in one smooth motion. He pushes your arms to your own chest and looks you dead in the eyes again. Hours pass where you’re lost in his eyes, caught in the endless depths of obsidian, floating in nothing and everything.

“Don’t. Move.”

A shiver wracks your body violently, and you have to throw yourself against the wall just to avoid crumpling to the ground with the pleasure that comes with obeying. You won’t move, you won’t move. You can do that for him. You press yourself to the brick, shuddering and panting quietly, eyes trained on his frame, watching how the world seems to heave with your every breath, lends him and Joon halos, makes heat spark and flare inside of you.

“You’re not actually leaving. We need you up north. Who’s taking your place?”

Jackson shakes his head, craning back to Namjoon. His tongue flits to wet his lips, gaze flicking upwards. You can think of better places his tongue could be. “No one. All of us are headed southwest.”

“Jaebum has better sense.”

“Back when it was an option.”

“You can’t just fucking leave, Jackson, we need cover. Now more than ever.”

“Wasn’t that the point of Jungkook?”

Ohh, Jungkook. You like Jungkook. Jungkook would take you. Press you up against the wall again, like when you met, but this time…you’re threatening to drool. Not moving is really hard.

“Jungkook is a kid. They’ll notice eventually. Jin isn’t thinking about the long term.”

“Then you’ll have to move anyways. You can’t just stubborn your way through everything, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile returns, but it’s tight, dangerous. He looks like a predator. It’s a good look, makes you warm and wet all over, but you know better than anyone how to smooth it off him.

“I appreciate your opinion.”

“Good. I like giving it.”

“Stay out of my territory.” He pulls the phrase through his grin, low and heavy with threat. “If I catch any of you with so much as a toe over the line, I’ll pull you apart.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Like I said, we’re just passing through. Thought we’d grab one for the road in between territories.” Jackson flashes you another glance and you shiver. “…I won’t say anything about her, though. For you.”

“I told you she was an accident. You know times are tough.”

“I don’t agree with taking them like this. I don’t know anyone who does.”

“It’s temporary.”

Jackson shrugs.

“I’ll leave her with you anyway.” He says finally, with a sniff. “From the smell of her, you’ve got enough to worry about with just the two of you involved.”

He ruffles the back of his hair as he starts to walk. Namjoon doesn’t step aside for him, only watching as he gets close. When he comes within distance, he reaches forward and takes his arm. It’s weirdly gentle, familiar. You wish he’d grab you instead. Less gently would be preferable. Be nice if you could move, also.

“Tell me someone is staying.” Namjoon pleads. His eyes are genuine as he searches the other man’s. “Someone, anyone. Tell me we’ve still got cover. That the riots won’t reach us.”

Jackson slowly, hesitantly, places his hand on top of Namjoon’s.

“…You said it yourself. Times are tough, Joon.” He replies, quiet. “I’m sorry.”

This time, when he moves to walk past, both hands slipping from his arm, Namjoon angles his body to the side to allow him the space to continue.

“By the way,” Jackson adds after a beat, “You might want to check the ‘most wanted’ lists for up north. I could be wrong, but I think you’ve got one more problem.”

Namjoon’s head drops into a defeated nod, worrying his lower lip through his teeth as Jackson turns the corner out of sight, back towards the entrance.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move. A particularly violent shudder courses through you and you whine at the feeling of disobedience, but your body is shaking, breath coming in irregular pants. You’ve broken out in a sweat, your entire frame twitching and needy. Namjoon’s form ahead of you has you wanting, knowing he could make it better, he could kiss and lick and bite and touch and fondle and you need him to. But he only stands there, brow furrowed at the concrete beneath his feet, scratching at the back of his neck distractedly.

“N-Namjoon,” you whisper before you can stop yourself, feeling a thrill race through you when he freezes. Jackson said you needed to be quiet, so you don’t dare say much else, but when Namjoon looks up and meets your eye with a steely glare, you bite back a whimper.

“And you,” he says, low. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm?”

You only watch him, shivering.

“Speak,” he commands.

“Please, please, Namjoon,” you’re begging, babbling loosed from your lips in a tidal wave, “Please, I’m so hot, I need, I need you, I’m so warm, Namjoon, I need—“

“Were you going to let him fuck you?”

“I—“

“Were you. Going to let Jackson fuck you?”

“….I…”  your mouth goes dry. At his scathing look you crumble. “Y-yes, yes, I wanted—“

“You were going to let him bite you?”

Your voice has become small, hesitant, but the surface of your skin still buzzes and every time you answer him, pleasure rushes up your spine. “Yes.”

“After I told you not to.”

“I’m hazed,” you whine, shuffling your feet, squeezing your thighs together.

He shakes his head, casting his glance to the side with an expression that morphs into desperation mirroring your own. “…Fuck.”

Yes. Yes, exactly. You concur.

“Come—” He gestures, but the movement doesn’t even register until you’ve already thrown yourself into his outstretched arm, nuzzling into his shirt, pressing as much of you against you as you can manage.

“—here,” he cuts off with a shocked wheeze when you slide your palm down past the front of his pants, rubbing for his cock through his jeans. A thrill runs through you at the realization that he isn’t soft under there. You growl. He grabs for your wrists, shaking, eyes wide as he tries to meet yours. “Hey, whoah, no—fuck, goddamn it.” “Naaaaaamjooon,” you complain. “I was gonna let you fuck me, too…”

“I can see that.” His voice is strangled. He pauses, grip briefly tightening over your wrists and you purr at the feeling.

“Get in the car,” he says finally.

“You could haze me more to get in the car,” you waggle your eyebrows at him, chuckling under your breath at the bubbliness of the world in the corners of your vision.

“Or I could tell you to get in the fucking car and then you just do it.”

“I’ll do something fucking for you, Namjoon.”

“Get. In the car.” He sounds strained, but you’ll take it. Eventually, he’ll give you what you want. You don’t even have to worry about it! You stumble with him to the car, giggling when he tries to usher you into the passenger’s side and avoid the way you’re trying to pull him on top of you.

By the time he comes around the other side to sit behind the wheel, he’s already chattering to himself under his breath. He does like to talk a lot.  

“Get Hoseok to pull some strings with one of his, get those clothes bought, look up the wanted section—wanted? What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Godammit, Jackson—gotta give this time to wear off. Maybe we can sneak you past Yoongi. Maybe he’s sleeping. God, I hope he’s sleeping.”

Your hands are wandering again. Drifting over the center console as the car jerks roughly under you and starts speeding smoothly into the sunset. It’s way more interesting to you, what’s happening inside the vehicle. Your fingers dance over to Namjoon’s lap, trailing, watching his face for any sign that he’s going to stop you. His jaw clenches again and he throws you a grim glance.

“Don’t think about it.”

“Think about what.”

“You know what.”

“Taking your cock out?” You clarify innocently, watching with interest the shuddering inhale he takes. “Putting your cock in my mouth?”

“Exactly that.” His teeth are gritted.

“Tasting the tip?” you continue, curious, brushing a palm against his crotch, feeling triumphant at the way the fabric stirs, the way he shifts underneath you. “Or deeper?” Your mouth isn’t working exactly the way you’d like, you’re slurring pretty hard, but you’re already drooling at the thought of sucking him off.

“I’m trying to fucking drive,” he whines, and the sound takes you aback slightly, watching his brow crease in frustration. Consent. Namjoon likes consent. He likes it when you ask.

“Can I suck your dick?” You ask with a polite smile, delighted with yourself for figuring him out so quickly. “Namjoon?” His hips rise of their own volition, stuttering. He doesn’t reply beyond a sharp breath and you frown. Not a ‘no’. But not a yes.

Wait a minute. You’re being so silly. You’ve forgotten the most important part!

“Can I suck your dick, sir?...”

He growls.

“No.” he says. You pout. You did so well, and this is what you get for it. You’re a good girl, why is he going to act like this?

“But I—“

“No buts.” He snaps. “Hands to yourself. Don’t move until we get home.”

Gold dust bursts beneath your eyelids, gathers under your skin, slinks up your throat, and you lean back into the car to watch it curl up through the atmosphere. Your hands are by your side. Where they belong. Where they’ve always been. You barely even notice how hard Namjoon is breathing.

By the time you get home, the soft lights and rounded corners of the world have faded some—not enough to be gone, but enough that your attention has returned to the wetness between your legs. You’re so wet. There’s even a patch forming on Yoongi’s sweatpants. You hope he won’t mind. You recall the way he licked you up in the diner and shudder. He definitely won’t mind.

Namjoon leads you quickly out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment, refusing to look at you, eyes wild, brows furrowed, nostrils flaring and jaw working. He looks like he’s thinking about lots of important things. One of them ought to be how good you’ve been, and how much you need him to touch you, but you’ll let him come to that conclusion himself.

He halts violently in the front hall eyes wide.

“Shit.”

“…Namjoon?” Yoongi’s voice comes from the living room, sounding surprised, almost…guilty?

Namjoon immediately takes a few steps forward, body angled between you and the room.

 You peer around him to snag a peek anyways. Yoongi stares back at you from his position on the couch, belly down and hunched over something black. The bags under his eyes are almost a weird shade of purple, they’re so dark. He looks like he’s dying, drawn and fixated. When your gazes meet, his tongue slips over his lips, slow, heady. You whimper before you’re even aware you’re doing it.

“Really? Yoongi?” Namjoon sounds exasperated. Worn thin.

“Really yourself,” Yoongi bites back, but his tone is gravelly. “When you said you were going shopping I thought it would be for longer than five minutes.”

“On the couch?”

Yoongi’s upper row of teeth suddenly bare in a lopsided grin with a mild chuckle. “Not the worst thing to happen on the couch. Right?”

His smile drops suddenly, nostrils flaring. A shiver crawls up your spine as you watch his hips rock forwards and his eyes flutter back in his head. “A-ah, fuck. What the fuck have you two been doing?...”

It isn’t until you feel Namjoons arm raising to halt you at your chest that you realize you’ve been scooting forward in a trance, trying to catch a closer look at the fabric that Yoongi presses his face into now with a low groan.

“Yoongi…” Joon swallows, hard, “You should go back in your room.”

“She’s fucking hazed, isn’t she, Joon? Fuck, she’s so wet,” he continues to hiss under his breath, as if to himself. “Fuck, she’s so wet.”

This time you can see his arm shift, can hear a slick noise from underneath him, his breath catching. His jeans are hanging a little low on his hips, baring a black strip of underwear, you realize, and with that realization comes understanding. The fabric is Namjoon’s old hoodie. He’s got it pinned to the couch beneath him. When he nuzzles into it, you recognize the faded pattern from the hem brushing his nose. It’s upside down, so that his face is where…where your pussy was.

“It was a mistake,” Namjoon says while your world spins dizzyingly with arousal.

“Hmm…” Yoongi grunts, impossibly low in his throat. “Lots of those.” He doesn’t sound fully cognizant of what he’s saying. It’s absent, slurred. You see why when he twists his head again, mouth lolling open to lap secretively at the hoodie, his tongue pointed and firm. Arousal slips heat down your back, between your legs when you spot his bared teeth. Long, sharp, glistening with saliva as he exhales shakily. Oh, yes. That’s what you want.

Namjoon’s arm presses against you and he takes a half a step back, taking you with him even though you don’t really want to walk backwards. The way Yoongi tucks his head into the hoodie, his hair splaying against the fabric, inhales loudly, humps forward, hips curling with a sloppy sound that indicates just how wet he is in his own palm—it reminds you of an animal.

“Gonna bite holes in the couch, Joon,” he warns thick, muffled. “Mmm…I’m going to lose my fucking mind. She’s fucking hazed. God, I-I can’t do this.”

“It’s only been a day.” Namjoon’s voice is strained. You cast a curious look at him, but immediately your eye is drawn to the tent growing in his pants. He tries to move it, tries to casually tuck it out of view, but it’s too late, the damage is done, and a huff of desire escapes from your throat, eyes threatening to bulge out of your head. You like very much the way things are shaping up. “It’s only been a day—“

“Fuck. Fuck.”

“—We need to give her time to recover—“

Yoongi makes a noise that’s too close, too close, to a high-pitched whimper, his head still bent, hiding his face.

“Recover nothing, recover is bullshit,” he’s babbling, dark, frustrated, garbled by the pillows underneath him. “I need—“

“It’s not a good idea.”

“I need to be inside of her now, Namjoon.” Yoongi pulls his head back up, laying his cheek ontop of the hoodie. His eyes are blown wide, all traces of brown swallowed by obsidian, hooded and piercing as he meets your gaze, blazing a path straight through you. His delicate lips can barely keep his teeth at bay, bitten, abused pink playing peekaboo with glistening pinpricks of ivory. His jet hair spiders out across his forehead, stuck in places with sweat. “I need to drain her.”

“It isn’t a good—“

“I’ll kill you.” It fights its way past his lips, stuttering and stammering, like an addict denied his high, lent credence by the way he digs his nails into the sofa, ruts into his own hand. “I—I’ll, Joon, I’ll fucking kill you.”

There’s a pause of silence, punctuated only by your breathing and the soft fabric noises as Yoongi humps the couch.

“…No, you won’t.” Namjoon’s voice is soft. Quiet. He sighs through his nose, long and weary.

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but he stills at the same time you see movement in the corner of your eye. A hand drifting to the hem of Namjoon’s second hoodie. Its twin, on the other side. Shuffling its grip up, taking the hoodie and the scarf with it, peeling it up and over your head with all the gentleness of a caretaker. You can’t look away from Yoongi. He’s stopped moving entirely, too-bright eyes watching you from over the pillows, a snake in the grass ready to strike. You don’t think he’s breathing. Namjoon’s hands return, slipping long fingers beneath the elastic waistband. He shucks them off you, helping you step out by placing your hand on his shoulder. One leg at a time. You sway a little, completely nude, standing in the living room like a sacrificial offering to the heathen gods. And the intensity with which the creature on the couch watches you, your chest heaving with heady breath, tells you that analogy isn’t far off.

You next feel warmth at your hand, wandering fingers drifting to clutch yours in a show of unexpected softness.

“We aren’t going to hurt her,” Namjoon says, fighting to keep a tremble out of his voice. Is it excitement? Fear? “We’re going to take care of her. Right, Yoongi?”

“Fuck,” Yoongi whispers, eyes wide.

“We aren’t going to hurt her.”

“No.” Yoongi echoes.

“We’re going to take care of her.”

“Yes.”

“I will use force if I have to.”

“Mm.”

Namjoon nods, once. The hand at yours disappears, reappearing with a sudden grip of your hair, tugging your head back.

“You wanted so badly to suck cock, baby,” Namjoon snarls into your ear, sending hot breath coasting against your neck, making you squeal when he yanks unmercifully, his grip burning against your scalp, “Here’s your fucking chance. You’re going to take Yoongi down your throat like a good slut. I don’t want you coming up for breath. Do you understand?”

“I understand, sir,” you mewl immediately, scrabbling upwards, delicate fingers flying to his with no effect. The switch has left you reeling with whiplash, but it makes you shake all the same. All the same, it makes you ache. He releases you, shoving forward, and you stumble, catching yourself on the arm of the couch, just beside Yoongi’s head.

Yoongi still hasn’t moved. You slide to the front of the sofa, eyes trained on his, unable to keep down the feeling of being a steak in a lion’s den. But he uncurls from his position, turning to reveal his dick to you, head cocked, hands clutching the cushions on either side of his legs like he has half a mind to tear them to shreds.

You almost choke, just looking at him. Flushed a painful red from tip to base, bright veins bulging angrily, twitching in the cold air apart from his hand. Coated in precum, streaks shining in the light down what you can see of his lower belly, wet patches soaked through the bottom of his white shirt, glazing his cock. Under your stare, it oozes another dribble, and suddenly you’re famished.

“Please.”

It doesn’t register as a word until he shifts, legs widening, hands kneading. You look back to his face. He looks half out of his mind, eyes dark.

“Please.” He repeats, hoarse.

You’re already falling to your knees, jaw dropping opening with the sick plop of your tongue leaving the roof of your mouth, reaching for his thighs. His hips flex when you get close, easing his head past your lips and you can taste the heat before you even descend on him, sucking, laving at his fevered skin.

The noise he makes is sin, lust, and velvet. Not far from a purr. His hands don’t move from where they’re digging into the cushions, allowing you to take as much of him as you want, as much as you can. You fill your senses with him greedily; his taste, his smell, every twitch of his thighs and every bob of his cock into your mouth.

You feel wandering fingers trace your spine, curling around your ass, alighting to your dripping pussy with intent. When two push inside, eased tremendously by the seemingly endless slick that drips from your entrance, you arch into him.

“Y-You fuck her first,” Namjoon’s murmuring from behind as he presses his fingers into you, scissoring, stretching, curling seekingly. You hump against his hand, trying to push him deeper even as you suck Yoongi’s cock down your throat with a slavering eagerness. “Or-or maybe I do…M-maybe we…”

“Both,” Yoongi growls, sharp. A moan bubbles up around his member from your throat and his hips rise to meet the sensation, almost lazy if not for the way he shakes. You feel a hand curling into your hair less than gently, by your face, tugging your head a little to the side so that he can look you in the eye while you suckle at his head. He’s grinning, feral and distant. As your gazes lock, he scrunches his nose at you in a playful snarl.

“You have two holes for a reason, don’t you think?” he drawls past a slur. “Let’s see how wide we can stretch them.”

Behind you, Namjoon grunts deep in his throat and his pace stutters. “Sh-shit, that’s—“

“She wants it. You want it, don’t you? You want me in your ass. You want Namjoon in your cunt. Admit it.” He tsks, his tone dropping somehow lower. “Admit it, and we’ll prepare you first.”

He pulls you off his cock with a fierce tug of your locks caught between his knuckles, teeth baring again in a half smirk, half grimace as he watches you take deep gasping breaths with all the tenderness of a hawk surveying its squeaking prey.

“I—I do.”

“Little whore.” The vampire in front of you hisses, murmurs, but the thumb brushing against your swollen lips is akin to fond. “I know you do. You want Namjoon’s fingers in your tight little hole?”

You’re nodding into his palm, trying to shift your weight more comfortably on your knees. Either he doesn’t notice or he’s pretending not to, perfectly fine with allowing you to arch, crane. Twitching when Namjoon’s fingers bump against those perfect places inside of you with slick, overly wet noises.

“You want him to stretch you wide for me. You want to beg us for it.”

“I do. I want it.”

“I don’t know that she can take it,” Namjoon mumbles, hoarse, but his fingers give you one more pump, squelching into your arousal, before they’re sliding slowly out, tracing up back towards your spine.

“She’ll fucking take it.” Yoongi’s leading you back to his cock, pressing your cheek to his strained member. His head throws back with a low groan when you obligingly lick up as much of his skin as you can, tasting salt and feeling the heat under your tongue. “She’ll take it and she’ll love it.”

“I’ll take it so good,” you agree between laves, between sloppy kisses and slurps. “I’ll take it.”

Warmth presses experimentally against the tight ring of muscles at your ass. When you tense thoughtlessly, it immediately disappears, Namjoon exhaling shakily.

“I don’t think—“ he mumbles.

“I think,” Yoongi snaps. “Stop fucking thinking, Namjoon. Just do it.”

There’s a pause, a shuffling from behind you, the sound of a bottlecap popping open. The fingers return, and this time you make sure to roll towards them, humming your approval as you lathe up and down Yoongi’s member sloppily. This time, you recognize a much slicker feeling—he must have found lube. Just for you. How nice of him. One digit presses deeper, sinking into you and you huff a sigh at the strange sensation; even with the lube, it hurts, just a little, just a sting, but it’s warm and smooth, filling you up. Another finger pad rubs comforting circles into your clit as he pumps his finger steadily into your asshole. Yoongi purrs with appreciation at the both of your compliances, hips twitching.

“Mm, yeah, stretch her good. Stretch her so good, so I can slip right inside of that tight little ass.”

Namjoon introduces a second finger and you have to stop sucking Yoongi’s cock to rest your head in his lap, keening at the intrusion. It burns, it burns, but the thought of taking his member inside of you, the thought of taking both of them, has you shaking with anticipation.

“Hoseok’s gonna be so mad,” Yoongi mutters, watching you whimper and carding lithe fingers through your hair. “His loss.”

Namjoon’s abrupt chuckle is humorless and short. “Hoseok is in big trouble for that stunt he pulled last night.”

“Hmm? What stunt?” The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches upwards in a knowing grin. A hand explodes against your ass, forcing you to jump, working yourself harder on Namjoon’s fingers, and you moan thickly.

“Tell him.”

“H-Hoseok came in the room while I was being pun-punished,” You stutter as Namjoon slides a third finger into your quivering hole, stretching you further with a deep grunt. “He-he fucked my chest.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Shh,” he hums, mock-comforting, stroking your hair with one hand as his other drifts to his own member, teasing at the purpled, leaking head absently, drifting to lock around his base. “I know. I know. Did you like it? Hm? You did, didn’t you? I bet it made you so fuckin’ wet for Hobi’s cock.”

He makes a thick noise deep in his throat. “Namjoon.”

“Gently,” is the response. Namjoon’s fingers slip out of you, even as your body clamps down on him as if trying to convince him deeper, and the rush of pleasure as they’re removed has you shuddering. “Go slow.”

But Yoongi’s gripping your hair, patting your cheek, is excited and rushed. Feverish.

“Turn around. Turn around,” he urges.

Obediently, you sit up shakily, assisted by an arm slipping beneath yours, and turn to face Namjoon. At some point, he’s taken his shirt off, unbuttoned his pants to better stroke at the bulge growing at his crotch. His eyes are hooded, his lips are red from his own worrying. He flicks his eyebrows at you when Yoongi’s hand comes up with a sharp crack on your asscheek, jolting you forward. You can hear him shuffling out of his pants entirely behind you.

“Ready?” Joon asks.

You nod, leaning up and seeking out his lips again. He kisses you back briefly, hands alighting on your waist to encourage you down. Yoongi’s hands drift over your ass, your thighs, tugging you closer, pulling you to meet the hot skin of his lap. His fingers as they dance over your cheeks, shifting you open so that he can rub the tip of his dick against your opening. The hot, slick feeling of his velvet head finally breaching the tight ring of muscle has you gasping, scrabbling at Namjon’s arms.

Yoongi is definitely bigger than Namjoon’s fingers. As you sink down on him, impaling yourself on his cock, you clutch forward at Namjoon desperately, mouth open to allow for the breathless mewls escaping your throat. Behind you, Yoongi grunts and hums directly into your ear, tsking through his teeth.

“Are you okay, baby?” Namjoon murmurs, almost sweet if not for the feverishly intent way he watches his elder penetrate you. “Is that still good?”

“Big,” you hiccup, unconsciously trying to shift your hips to accommodate the girth as it parts your walls. “It-it’s big.”

“I know,” he soothes. He keeps up petting your cunt, brushing your clit, rubbing your tits. He leans forward, pressing soothing kisses to your collarbone, up your neck, the edge of your mouth. “I know. You tell me if it’s too much.”

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi growls, low, when he finally bottoms out, sheathing himself completely inside you. “Oh fuck. God, you take it so good. You take it so well. Are you sure Jin’s boys didn’t do this for you?”

“N-No.” You’re glowing at the praise, at the attention, as you adjust. The pain quiets to an ache the longer you sit there, but you won’t deny the twitching in your limbs, the leaking of your pussy. It isn’t taking you too long to warm to the idea of taking both of them at the same time.

“No? No, just us, hm? Think they’ll be jealous, Namjoon?” Yoongi catches your earlobe with a bite that’s a little too sharp, humming.

“Jealous that we got to have so much of baby? Oh, yeah.” Namjoon mumbles, kissing you deep. His tongue slides across yours, sweet and gentle. Your lips smack obnoxiously when you part, the sound so loud in this enclosed space between your faces. “Jealous that she’s ours.”

“Is that right?” Yoongi’s hips move experimentally, thrusting shallow, and you moan at the sensation. It’s like he’s reaching through you to your guts, and you love it. “Are you ours? Hmm?”

“Y-yours,” you choke, humping with him.

Eyes caught in yours, Namjoon fishes his cock out of his underwear, giving the thick length a pump, two, before he’s edging closer. He’s kissing you again as he sinks into you, and you melt into the bliss of being held so intimately, so gently. Yoongi at your back, rocky steadily into your ass, Joon at your front, thrusting into your wet pussy, both humming and grunting with the effort as you writhe helplessly between them. You’re so full, so full, disallowed from resting between thrusts with the alternating rhythm they quickly fall into.

“F-fuck,” Namjoon growls. “So good, you’re doing so good for us, baby.”

When he thrusts especially hard, you can feel it criminally deep inside of you and you arch, hips lifting to meet him. The feeling of both of them fucking into you simultaneously, breathing into your ears, moaning, has you roiling in ecstasy, strong, warm arms holding you up, moving you against them, caressing breasts and rolling your clit.

“I-I’m not going to fucking last…” Joon warns.

Yoongi chuckles breathily, licking his lips so sloppily it’s loud.

“Cum in her,” he demands, hoarse, “Give her everything. I want to feel it.”

 There’s the sound of the lock turning at the front door. Namjoon’s pace quickens with a groan. He starts pounding into your cunt, leaning over you with his brow furrowed, lips parted, sweat making his neck, his cheeks, glisten. His cock fucks so smoothly into your cunt, stretching you around his girth, bottoming out and slipping until he finally settles for rocking up deep into you. The sounds his pelvis makes as he fucks you perfectly are loud, stuttering.

“Gonna, gonna,” he mumbles, licking up your lips.

“Hoo!” Hoseok’s voice calls from the front hall, “What is going on in…here…?”

Joon stills inside you with a violent thrust, cock buried deep inside of your guts, pulsing as he paints your walls with wet warmth, exhaling a grunt into the crook of your neck. Yoongi stills completely, moaning low in your ear.

There’s a pause, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of everyone present. Namjoon presses a sweet kiss to your mouth, humping once, twice, sliding his spent cock from your gaping hole with a hiss.

When he moves to look to Hoseok, you get to see him too.

Standing in the hall, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His hair’s wet at his forehead with sweat. Under your stare, he licks his lips. His eyes are already smoldering, congenial grin faded into a hungry look.

“You guys having fun?” he asks, falsely conversational.

“No, it’s the worst.” Yoongi’s deadpan reply doesn’t earn him more than a flick of the eyes. “You should probably go back to the studio.”

“Sorry, Hope,” Namjoon interjects softly, still panting. “It—we didn’t mean to go this far.”

“I did.” Yoongi interrupts again in a whisper. You jolt at the feeling of his hot, slick tongue suddenly wetting a path up your neck to your ear. You squirm, both of you moaning quietly when you jostle his cock inside you.

Hoseok shrugs, lips curving into a pout. He slips his gym bag off his shoulder, tossing it carelessly to the ground as Joon flops to the side of the couch, far enough to be out of the way but close enough to keep a discerning eye on Yoongi.

“Well. I’m here now…” Hoseok says low, stalking closer. You’re suddenly very aware of how lewd you must look right now. Yoongi buried in your ass, Joon’s cum leaking out of your wrecked pussy.

“Hmmm about that…Hoseok misbehaved, didn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs into your ear, his breath tickling your neck. He shifts, beginning to roll into you again, stealing your breath. “Left you high and dry. What do you say we leave him?”

It’s impossible to concentrate, between his smooth fucking into your asshole, the way Joon’s rapidly cooling cum runs down your cunt, the smoldering glare that Hoseok throws your way.

“We can make him watch.” Yoongi’s next thrust is overly excited, and you jerk back into him with a loud moan, back arching as his cock parts your tight hole and slips up into your depths. It dislodges more of the cum inside you, encouraging it to ooze out in a fresh glob painting your slit. “Hmmm…we can make him watch and he can fucking cream all over himself in his ridiculous fucking pants. Make him clean it up, suck it up out of the fabric, no hands.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Hoseok’s smile is not friendly. It’s dark, dangerous—not far removed from an animalistic sneer.

“You don’t think I would?” is the glib response, heavy with promise, punctuated by a grunt when you clench around him. Hoseok’s smile disappears.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yoongi pants into your skin, tsking through his teeth. “What a fucking idea. What a fucking idea. You want to see it, too, don’t you?”

“P-promised,” you stammer, mind reeling, toes curling.

“What was that, slut?” Yoongi snarls, a free hand curving around your neck. Namjoon’s eyes dart to his fingers with an expression that betrays how ready he is to save you, even as he continues to recover from his position on the floor, but Yoongi doesn’t tighten his grip more than enough to choke your words and make it difficult to slur through them.

“He, H-Hoseok promised, he promised, t-to fuck me.”

“He promised to fuck you.”

“Mm,” you whimper, nodding, vision swimming with heady pleasure.

“You can’t get enough, is that what you’re telling me?”

“N-no.” You moan when he starts to thrust even harder into you.

“Never enough cock for you. Never stuffed full enough, never satiated. It would take all of us, wouldn’t it, and still you’d beg for more. Tell me I’m wrong.

Come here,” he barks, fevered, without waiting for your reply. “Get over here.”

Automatically, Hoseok moves, the edges of his expression softening as Yoongi’s haze pulls a veil over his eyes. He doesn’t even get a full step forward before Yoongi is commanding him again.

“Down. Knees.”

Hoseok’s legs buckle at the knees, his head flopping forward, eyes fixated on the unbelievably erotic sight of Yoongi’s cock disappearing into you and reappearing covered in juices and lube, the way your pussy weeps clear arousal and thick white seed down your thighs, soaking into the couch beneath you.

“Tell her you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” It escapes his mouth easily enough, but his lips twitch in a faint grimace afterwards, as though the words leave a bad taste on his tongue. Yoongi fucks harder into you, before grunting and suddenly grasping your hips with both hands, one on either side. You can feel him twitching deep inside of you, but he doesn’t cum yet, just rocks upwards, curls absently against your back.

“How sorry?”

“So sorry.”

“Prove it. Show her. How fucking sorry you are.”

Hoseok’s eyes flit upwards, catching you in their endless chocolatey depths. You feel warmth, palms, curling over your thighs, holding you splayed in front of him with long hands. Maintaining eye contact, he leans forward, jaw inching open, tongue presenting itself, before he makes contact with your pussy, licking a long, hot stripe upwards. A low moan claws its way out of your chest, your hips thrusting forwards and halted by their hands, Yoongi’s on your waist, Hoseok’s pinning you to Yoongi, forcing you to take it as he starts to eat you in earnest. He slurps up Namjoon’s cum like he daren’t waste a drop of it, sucking it off your lips, sliding his tongue everywhere but your clit, rubbing through your folds, dipping like a man possessed into your cunt to retrieve as much of it as he can taste. You convulse with every flick, humming and whining, sweating, straining against their grip as Hoseok tilts his head, maneuvering this way and that, as though determined to lick up every trace of Namjoon from you.

“That’s it,” Yoongi growls thickly. “That’s it, just like that. Make her cum and I’ll let you inside her.”

 The response is immediate. Hoseok forces your thighs apart even further, lips finding your clit easily and attaching with a decadent slurp so loud and so obnoxious your ears ring, holding you down as you shake and arch into him, moaning unintelligible pleas for mercy as he sucks you up like his last meal. Your body wracks, shivering, and you hardly even realize how near you are until you’re finally shoved off the precipice. You’re cumming, hard, scrabbling for purchase on Yoongi’s thighs, the couch beneath you, Hoseok’s fingers. The scream that tears itself from your throat is raw, over-extended and cuts out entirely at the end as pleasure races through your entire body, forcing you to convulse and shake.

Yoongi’s steady fountain of curses barely registers until you realize he’s begging just as painfully, as desperately as you are.

“Fuck, Hoseok,” he hiccups, “Fuck, hurry up, get—get in her, fuck, I can—I’m gonna—“

“Was that nice?” Hoseok preens as he pulls away. His mouth and chin are shining, glazed with your arousal. He licks absently at it, slipping the waistband of his sweatpants down teasingly, catching your eyes with a hazy, prideful smirk. “Was that good? You want Hobi to fuck you now, pretty girl? You forgive me yet, hm?”

“Stop fucking around,” Yoongi bites, hands dashing to your thighs from around your back. He opens your folds for you, presenting you even more prettily to the other vampire, who watches you twitch with satisfaction and desire. “Come fuck the communal whore.”

Hoseok’s cock is thinner than Namjoon’s, but it’s longer. When he lines up with your entrance, guided easily by Yoongi’s fingers, and presses in with one smooth motion, you release a deep exhale, head thrown back over Yoongi’s shoulder.

“There you go. There you fucking go.” He encourages in a mumble, hands raising, one to your neck to caress and fondle, the other to your hip, to steady as he and Hoseok start thrusting in tandem.

Hobi’s hips flow into you effortlessly, curling, stroking the inside of your cunt with precision that leaves you breathless. The difference between the fevered way Yoongi now rams unevenly into your ass, drawing thick breaths through clenched teeth, has you clenching around the both of them.

You feel something against your palm, and you turn to look, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. He watches you caught between his brothers, expression heavy. He wraps his fingers around yours, and you realize his other hand is curled around his own dick, stroking himself to the time of Yoongi’s thrusts. He leans his head back, staring at you past hooded eyelids, plush lips parted in quiet huffs as he twitches and releases again, small spurts up his chest, decorating his abdomen. The sight of him, shining with sweat and cum, pleasuring himself as you bounce, filled up and defiled, makes you cry out, wrapping one thigh around Hosoeok’s ass.

“Gonna fill up this pretty ass,” Yoongi hisses, “Gonna fill you up so good, fuck.”

“Good girl,” Hobi soothes through his grin, “Good, just like that, take it, yeah, take it.”

Yoongi’s pace becomes even more erratic, even more uneven, his voice giving way to high pitched mewls and low grunts, burying his cock inside you with a growl.

“N-Nam—“ he pants suddenly, arching, pressing his lower half to your back.

Namjoon sits up with a rush, hand disentangling from yours to reach upwards, just over your shoulder, and you can feel the force as Yoongi’s head is thrown backwards into the cushion of the sofa. His prick twitches and throbs, finally emptying himself into the cavern of your asshole, filling you with wet warmth. Hobi pushes forward one last, long drawn-out time, and cums inside your cunt with a huffed breath almost of surprise.

Behind you, you can hear Yoongi hissing, growling, whimpering. You can feel the struggle as he thrashes against Namjoon’s hold, his fingernails beginning to dig into your hips.

“You fucker,” he spits, seething. “I’m so fucking hungry, you son of a bitch. It’s your fucking fault, you fuck.”

“Shh, Yoongi,” Namjoon soothes, brows knitted together. “Shh, I know. I know.”

“Fuck you, Namjoon, let me drain her fucking dry. You’re such a cunt.”

Hoseok slides out of you, watching your pussy leaking fresh cum with absent satisfaction, brushing a thumb against a flushed lip to collect some of it. He leans up, smearing it across your mouth and you lean forward into him, sucking the digit into your mouth with an exhausted moan.

“Hobi, get her off him.” Namjoon says, sharp.

“Alright, alright. Come on, pretty girl,” Hoseok urges gently, wrapping his palms underneath your ass to help lift you upwards. You try to prop your legs up under yourself, but you’re so sore, so used up, they’re almost completely useless. Yoongi’s member leaves your ass with a plop, his release already beginning to ooze down your thigh. His hands are hesitant to leave your waist, but eventually trail off, obeying hushed encouragement from Namjoon. Hoseok pulls you to stand, into his still-clothed chest, propping you up on your feet and letting you lean against him.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs into your ear. You’re shaky, disoriented, clutching everything you can reach of him. You shake your head ‘no’, burying your face into him, inhaling the comforting scent. “Okay.”

He slowly moves to collect his pants from the ground, keeping your hands on his shoulders as he bends. When he straightens, he pulls the soft material up your legs, wiping at the thick liquid flowing freely from your abused holes. When you flinch away at a slightly rougher tug, he apologizes quietly under his breath, craning to press a weirdly sweet kiss to your cheek.

“I’m gonna take her to get cleaned up,” he says over your shoulder, rubbing comforting circles into your lower back.

“Good,” Namjoon replies, distracted. Briefly, you feel a hand at your calf, stroking upwards in a soothing kind of manner. As Hoseok turns, leading you down to the hall, you catch a glimpse of Namjoon sitting beside Yoongi on the couch. They’re embracing now, both glistening, both panting. Their eyes are closed, Namjoon’s peacefully if not for the worry that creases his brow, Yoongi’s screwed tightly shut.

“Didn’t mean it.” You catch Yoongi’s deep mumble, choked with emotion, as he buries his face in Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I know. I know. It’s okay.” Namjoon’s hand brushes up his back reassuringly, even for how it shakes. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

 Hoseok leads you slowly to the bathroom, props you up in the shower. The space is too tight, too small, to comfortably fit both of you, but he gets down to business washing you clean with the kind of care you’d expect from someone who’s done it a million times before. He keeps you upright, sudsing you up, rinsing you down, keeping your hands on his shoulders, occasionally placing a steadying arm around your waist while he cleans the rest of you with lukewarm water. He hums while he works, some absent tune you don’t recognize.

“Namu seems to really like you,” he pipes up. “I saw that handholding jerkoff thing.” He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “What a sap.”

You don’t have anything to respond with, so he continues.

“He’s not the type to like people easy, you know.” He sighs through his nose, craning to catch your eye with a nod to indicate how serious he’s being. “None of us are. I don’t know what Yoongi thinks…or if he does right now.”

He straightens to continue rinsing your hair, taking the utmost amount of care to avoid getting soap in your eyes.  It feels nice. Warm.

“But if Namjoon likes you…I guess we’re going to have to take better care of you.”

There’s a pause.

“I am sorry.” He says finally. He sounds sincere. “For the tit job.”

Now you look up at him, too tired to really say or think much, but hoping he gets the expression you mean to send him. He grins, wide, and boops your nose with the loofah with a giggle.  

“It was really hot, though.” He adds, in a mock-defensive pout. “Really hot. I jacked off earlier today just thinking about it, you know. Shit, maybe I’m falling for you.”

That makes him laugh, his signature cackle bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom.

Previous   Masterlist         Next

#moth to flame #bts x reader #bts smut #bts vampire au #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #do you see now #do you understand #why it took me so long #none of this was originally in it ok #(hey anon i hope this soothes our relationship. <3 u #sorry again) #FUCK yoongis fuckin MOUTH in this one #i dont know WHO i was CHANNELING #hand to god it only gets worse i just kEEP GETTING W O R S E #am i retconning hoseok being an asshole #eeeeeeyup lmao do what i wanna shrug #oh oh did you get my reference #w the other vampires #eeyyyyyy im not gonna put them in the tags cos its such a small bit part but eeeeeYYY #i dont actually listen to anyone but BTS im sorry i just wanted smone else to exist in this world that WASNT them ok #ive heard some of their stuff just havnt like #idk i dont follow anyone #i was incredibly into super junior when i started listening to kpop but thats cos i used it to write other smut :) #cos i couldn't understand korean #hey how you doing this is a lot of tags huh #well its been a long day alright #its been a day #ive been writing this chapter for so long i just wanna write my FEELINGS now

[lavishedinjimin]

bts reaction -> biting your clit/squirting (m)

biting: jk, nj, taehyung

squirting: sj, yg, hs, jm

additional tags: mentions of daddy/sir

Namjoon:

This man couldn’t choose between the two. He’s intoxicated with the thrill of watching your pussy gush with sweet, sweet nectar, but also loves to see your body flinch as he bites down on your clit.

So, therefore, he uses both to his advantage.

You were at the brink of your orgasm, your hips practically off the bed as two fingers pumped in and out of your cunt. Your hands tightly grasp the sheets, eyes closed as you bite your lip to stop yourself from yelling out.

“Do you want my mouth, sweet girl?” Namjoon asks, voice raspy. His muscles flex, hands working on his magic.

“Yes, please,” you say breathlessly.

He goes straight to devour your pussy, even feeling him smirk as he feels your walls tighten around his digits.

“Fuck, J-Joon—” you gasp, that feeling suddenly appearing in your lower stomach once again. “I think – oh, I think I”m gonna—ahh!”

He bites down on your clit, the roughness triggering a hard, pulsating orgasm, soaking Namjoon’s chin. He laughs menacingly, using the back of his hand to wipe his skin. “You’re too easy, Y/n.”

Seokjin:

Seokjin was cocky in all aspects but in a playful, lighthearted way. Whenever you’d compliment how great he is in singing in that one performance, his reply would be in the lines of: “Ah, I can do better than that, babe.”

Seokjin is full of confidence but never crosses the line. And that’s what you love about him.

Not until one day, you were both watching porn and a scene where the girl squirts come to show. You bite your lip, unknowingly crossing your legs together but still keeping your hand down there to resume touching your pussy. Seokjin groans, stealing a glance at how you were bucking your hips up into your hand.

“Do you want that?” he suddenly asks, making you blush.

“I mean,” you chuckle, “can you do it?”

“That shouldn’t even be a question!”

Within seconds, Seokjin pushes your back down on the bed, closes the laptop, and starts to tower over you. “I’ve always wanted to do that to you, god.”

“Is it one of your fantasies?”

Seokjin smirks, “Oh, fuck yes.”

“Then make me squirt, daddy.”

Yoongi:

Yoongi roughly grabs a handful of your hair and pulls his cock out of your mouth. He watches with a glint in his eyes how a string of saliva connects from the tip of his dick to your lips. He wipes it away with his thumb, then forces the digit into your mouth for you to suck. “Good girl,” he coos.

Suddenly, Yoongi pushes himself up on the bed and lies down. You, appalled, watch him in silence, waiting for a command as you usually do.

“What are you waiting for?” he chuckles, “fuckin’ ride my face.”

You crawl to him after those words, but you hesitate to put all your weight into his face. Yoongi gives your pussy a quick kitten-lick, making your body shiver when you feel the tip of his tongue graze your clit. “Mm, fuck, are you scared, baby?”

In a second, Yoongi pulls your hips down forcefully onto his mouth and he starts to play with your clit. Rubbing tender, firm circles around your throbbing bud with his tongue, flicking and sucking alternatively. “Oh my god!” you squeal, putting your hands on his thigh.

Yoongi does not stop. Everything happened so fast that your consciousness couldn’t quickly comprehend the upcoming hard, mind-blowing orgasm.

Not to mention, one of your hardest orgasms in a long time.

“Fuuuuck!” Your hips tremble, nails digging into his skin as you feel yourself squirt uncontrollably. Yoongi gasps, his cock twitching.

It was his first time to see you all wrecked like this, and he doesn’t plan to stop until you do it a second time.

Hoseok:

Hoseok, without a doubt, loves to see you squirt. Fuck, he loves it even more than you do.

With that being said, it riles him up whenever he sees you crying, trembling, begging to feel that thrill. It feeds into his dominant, even sadistic desires.

He sits across from the bed, watching you play with yourself with the help of your wand. He, too, masturbates as he watches. Tugging his cock up and down, using his spit as lube.

“Sir,” you moan, fucking yourself faster with two fingers while the vibrator stays put on your throbbing clit. Even though you can’t see him – for your ass was presented to him while your head pressed down on the bed – you were imagining him roughly fucking his hand from his loud grunts.

You can feel your pussy juice slide down your inner thighs, your cunt soaked, and Hoseok ravishes in the view. He can’t keep his eyes off of you, the way you fucked yourself, probably begging to feel his cock inside you instead of your fingers, was making him animalistic.

“I bet you want to be stretched by my cock so bad, huh?” Hoseok says, spitting onto his cock to make it wetter. “You want my cock inside you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” You pant, fucking yourself harder, feeling your fingers graze against your sweet spot. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, whimpering as you feel your lower stomach tighten. “Pleaaaase, sir. Put it in… please put it in!”

“I want you to squirt first, baby. C’mon, I know you can do it.” Hoseok bites his lip, seeing you increase the level of your vibrator, “fucking squirt all over yourself first, then you’ll get my cock.”

And there it was. Hoseok coos, his hand gripping his cock tighter as he sees you squirt all over the sheets, his sheets. “Good fucking girl. Look at that, fuck. Such a wet, messy girl for me. You’ll have my cock as a reward, baby.”

Jimin:

Jimin loves everything nasty. Sure, you both cherish the soft, passionate side of sex. But it was always those spontaneous and messy ones that ended up in both of you panting for breath.

He’s also a huge fucking tease.

He had taken you to a huge company dinner. Fancy restaurant, clothes, food, everything. You were surrounded by A-class people, and you initially had the goal to make many friends tonight and create a good first impression. But Jimin had other ideas.

The vibrator inside your panties zipped your mouth shut, ruining all your plans.

He doesn’t hesitate to further up the intensity of the vibrations using the sly, small remote. He does it while he chats with other members, putting on a blank face as if his girlfriend isn’t trying to hold back from cumming.

You grip his thigh to catch his attention.

“Yeah, darling?” he smiles. You’ve never hated that cocky smile until tonight. “What’s up?”

You pursed your lips as your feet jumps up and down, hoping that he’d get the message that you can’t fucking do it anymore.

“Tsk,” he leans over to you and pushes a strand of hair behind your ear while increasing the intensity again, this time to its highest level. He hears you squeal. “I don’t know what you want if you don’t say it,” he whispers.

You couldn’t hold it in. Within a second, you stand up and make your way to the nearest restroom, not saying a word to anyone but hoping that he’d follow through.

Jimin apologizes and runs behind your tail.

“Fuck you—aaawhh!” Jimin kneels after closing the door of the stall, pushing your panties to the side, and starts sucking on your clit. You spread your legs, putting one foot up on the toilet as your hands clasp against your mouth. His tongue flicks your clit up and down with the toy still on, until you squirt from the overstimulation.

“Fuck,” Jimin whines, trying to catch everything, “y-you – ohh, that’s hot – you ruined my suit.”

Taehyung:

Your legs were hiked up as Taehyung didn't stop devouring your pussy. Using his long tongue to his advantage, he licks and sucks on your clit, even pushing the tip of his tongue in just to tease you and make you gush more of your juices. He knows how much you like it, how much you crave for him to eat you out.

Every day when he goes to work, he leaves you, knowing how much you would crave to feel his tongue back in your cunt again after a long day of work. He knows that only he could make you feel so overwhelmed by just using his tongue.

Taehyung’s a humble person, but he can go on and on about how hard he can make you cum.

His chin was always almost drenched in your wetness, but he likes it that way. He loves the smell of your arousal as it is one of the factors that drive him into eating your pussy like a starved man.

“Look at this sore, little clit, aww,” he groans, using his thumb to rub your clit as he catches his breath. “It loves to be abused, doesn’t it, hm? You love daddy’s tongue on your pussy so much that you don’t care that it’s being overstimulated, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you giggle, but that sly little laugh was cut off by him putting your clit between his teeth, biting down on it without warning.

His ears perk up from how you squealed, dick growing harder as your body twitched from that action.

“That hurts,” you whimper, lips pouting as you look down at him with tears welling up your eyes.

“But did you like it?”

You nod slowly, face heating up from the confession.

“Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Taehyung did it once, and he never stopped from then on.

Jungkook:

It might seem obvious, but Jungkook had dominant tendencies in bed that you would not ever have dreamed of. He was never the type to shy away from trying new things to spice up your sex life with him. After all, everything he does is for you, wanting you to feel good in all possible ways.

Your hands were cuffed into the bedposts, using the ones with pink fluffy protection to see the contrast of the color to your skin. His mouth was inches away from your wet pussy, only feeling his breath graze upon your slit.

“Please,” you whine, “babe, please…” He’s been teasing you like this for at least fifteen minutes, only kissing your pussy every once in a while, licking your inner thigh, barely touching your clit, all to rile you up into a hot, needy mess.

Jungkook grins, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

He hears the cuffs grind against the posts, your body withering just to feel his touch. His cock throbs as he hears you whimper in pure desperation, almost wanting to give in just from that.

“Use your words, baby girl. Or else you might not get to cum tonight–”

“I want your tongue, please!” you mewl, hips bucking up, “please, Kook. Please, I-I want to cum.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles before suddenly getting an idea. He targets your engorged little bud and gives it a hard, firm bite. You feel streaks of pain shooting through your body accompanied by bliss from the contact. The cuffs dig deeper into your skin as you tug onto them, your body shaking as you didn’t expect to feel such rapture.

Jungkook, the menace that he is, does it again, and again, and again. Discovering another act that adds to his list of painful pleasures to give you.

a/n: It's been a while since a reaction post! I hope you enjoyed this little gift. Thank you to the anon who had requested this prompt! Ily all, my lovelies!

#bts reaction #bts reaction smut #jungkook smut #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #bts x reader #seokjin smut #dom bts #dom jungkook

[97ft]

[ # 𝟎𝟒 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ]

⚠︎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Smut, Dilf! Aged Up! Yoongi, Infidelity, Unprotected Sex, Pantie Kink, Spanking, Name-Calling, Cum Play, Humping

It's not that Yoongi was completely saddened by his failing marriage, hell—his wife couldn't realize it was failing.

It's not any absolutely depressing event in his life either, it was just his personality. He was slightly hot-tempered, seemingly aloof to anyone who worked with him. Sometimes, he was a bit standoff-ish to his own wife. But then there's you.

The moment you stepped into his office, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Not to mention the way you two instantly clicked. When you two first spoke it was as if you'd known each other for years—only, you met him that day. As Yoongi's associates walked by his office, they nearly dropped their coffee to see their distant boss being so close to his newly appointed college student of a secretary.

One of the employees dropped her coffee upon seeing him smile at you so warmly.

The connection was there, but the tension.

Oh the tension. Even his wife saw it!

It was like you two were attached at the hip, always seen together by everyone. His wife once had to pull him aside from you for a moment in pure jealousy.

As of right now, the both of you took time to be together in one of his estates without the knowledge of anyone. But one can assume.

You placed one arm to one arm rest, trapping Mr. Min in his chair. He sighed, looking up at you. "What ever does my darling need?" he said endearingly, grabbing your waist to sit on his lap whilst he watched the news in your room. You scanned his face up and down as he looked at you with pure curiosity. You smiled widely at him earning an eyebrow raise before his eyes went back to the screen.

Grabbing him closer to your face by the collar of his shirt, his expression never faltered. "I'm wet." you stated simply. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked, now looking at you.

You nodded at him. "M'kay" he shrugged, amused.

Throwing you on the bed, he removed all articles of clothing showing him the extent of your words. He severely underestimated you—you were sopping wet, slick coating your inner thighs deliciously. Mr. Min let out a breath of shock, "How'd you get like this, baby?"

"I- I just thought of you" you admitted, embarrassed by yourself as you stayed bent over on the edge of the bed, all for Mr. Min to see.

Undoing his pants, he chuckled at your answer. "Just thought of me, hm?" he teased, using his belt as a restraint for your wrists. "That's cute"

Stuffing your panties in your mouth, Mr. Min then stuffed the head of his cock in your cunt—thrusting in ever so slowly. Only half way in, he cursed to himself while your eyes were squeezed shut, taking in the feeling of your walls stretching around. Never in your life would you think you'd get used to his size.

Finally bottoming out in you, he heard a tiny whimper of relief leave your mouth. Chucking, he rubbed the soft flesh of your ass before picking up his pace inside you.

Your squeaky mewls rang throughout the room mixed with the sound of the mattress shaking—not to mention the sound of skin slapping against eachother. "M'baby likes taking big dick, hm?" Mr. Min asked, his voice groggy and a little throaty from trying not to groan as he spoke. After you gave no answer to him, he landed a sharp slap to your ass, "Fuckin' answer me"

Swallowing back the drool that threatened to fall from your mouth, you stumbled on your answer. "Y-yeah..." you answered breathlessly as Mr. Min's pace sped up on purpose "I- Fuck M-mister...I love it!" you whined out, completely rushed out feeling your high threatening to hit you at any second.

"Mister M-Min," you slurred out, your mind clearly not with you at the moment "M'gonna cum~" you wailed before creaming all over his cock, feeling every ounce of slick gush out on him.

Holding your belt clad wrists in his hands he cooed at you, "Good fuckin' girl." With his eyebrows knitted together, he pulled out and flipped your body to lie on your back. Stroking his dick, he ordered you to open your mouth—to which you obliged. He jerked himself off, looking straight into your eyes until the second he came all in your mouth. As expected of you, you swallowed, earning a low laugh from Mr. Min.

Pulling his pants back on, he retreated back to his place on his chair to watch the news—ignoring the missed calls of his wife. Don't worry though, he'll call her back if he remembers. Dragging you with him, you sat atop his thighs. But the more you stared at him the more you needed him.

Feeling a wet spot emerge on his pants, Mr. Min placed his attention back to you—who was unsurprisingly rutting your hips against his thigh. Once you met his gaze on you, you sent him a wink while he smiled at you like a complete idiot.

Truly, there was something about you.

HOT DILFS IN YOUR AREA

TAGLiST: @vivilover @underratedmisfit @peachytan @wndrlevi @dyaidk @seventeenis-thedream @seokjennieee @moonchild1 @kimchitae @bbangtanlove95 @scqrl3tte @debicaptain-saturn @sukunasstomachtongue @enhypp @arcticmarshmallow @lvlyk1tty @isaaaaxhx @flwrprncss24 @burnedbythesun98 @telepathytae @papieami @cherryjungkookie @nmello8862 @raehayashi

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#bts smut #bts dilf #yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #bts smutmas

[here2bbtstrash]

You have outdone yourself, M! Chapter 8 had me slack jawed. 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨 Houston, we have feelings!!! Soft moments, touches on the back, coffee and pastries, reassuring glances, meaningful conversations -

“God,” Yoongi hisses against your skin. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy”

Are you kidding me?! The whole scene of them at his apartment was just so unlike any of their previous antics (outside of both of them running their mouth) and i’m here for it. Not to mention the shower scene?! All of it, every detail is just 🤌💋 (is anyone else not above buying a fear of god shirt to further their delusions that yoongi laid it out for you? Thanks for that, M. Like I need any help being psychotic)

Poor baby goth. He definitely didn’t deserve the treatment he got. The reader needs to reassess the way she navigates the relationships in her life, even Jimin, poor babe was left at a shitty dive in the middle of nowhere so she could go fuck yoongi. I’m not saying we all haven’t ditched a friend for dick appointment, i’m just simply saying 👀

In conclusion (what is this a highschool essay?) the direction you’ve taken this story has me giddy and hopeful that these two idiots could put their pride and derangement aside and perhaps come to the realization that they could work it out!! The reader was having full on visions in his kitchen of their life together and that MEANS SOMETHING!! STOP BEING A STUBBORN BITCH!!

Ok but for real. Love this, love you M. Thank you for taking us on this journey with you! I can’t wait to see what these two dumplings get into at the Grammys. 💕

AHHHH MALLORY 🥰 THE FEELINGS ARE HERE.... NO ONE WAS READY (least of all me 😩)

the apartment sceeeeene 🥺 it lived in my brain for so long, it was sooooo enjoyable to finally write out in full. such a pivotal moment for these two where those hard exteriors are starting to peel back 💜

listen i am not going to fess up to buying a fear of god baseball shirt but if i did i would tell you that i got it when it was on sale so it was only $89 and it does feed my delulu fantasies every time i wear it so thank you love you and goodnight!!!

the relationship navigation comment is SO real and i appreciate you mentioning jimin in it as well.... he's definitely the best at handling reader and dealing with her impulse control issues/not taking them personally but even still 🫠 homegirl needs to take a fat look in the mirror!!!! maybe book a therapist idk!!!

ahhhhh the visions in his kitchen 😭 if these two idiots could just GET OUT OF THEIR OWN WAY..... we must keep the faith 🙏 so much can happen at the grammys!!!! we'll have to wait and seeeeee 👀

i am sooo glad you're enjoying the ride, and i so appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts!!! thank you for reading love!!! 💜

#drankomalfoy #mbox 📮 #fic review #look down on me like that #LDOMLT spoilers #queue what you want ㄱ -ㅅ-ㄱ

[kookieswan]

Hey! How about a drabble with Handlebars Yoongi? It could be something like a guys hangout at the bar with Jk drunk talking about his girl problems and be like “man, you’re such a good listener” 🤡✊🏻

Handlebars - Intoxicated

Biker!Jungkook x Receptionist!Reader (f)

Word Count: 650+

Genre: Biker AU, Gang, AU, Humor because JK is a dumbass, some fluff and like a pinch of angst.

Warnings: Drinking/Alcohol Consumption! Jungkook is very, very drunk lolol

Summary: Yoongi didn’t think he’d be babysitting his drunk gang member at 4PM and yet…

Notes: Yoongi focused with appearances from other members! ❤️🌸 Thanks for requesting lovely 😊

Find the Handlebars Masterlist here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A-and then she jus’ told me to get out! Can you believe that?!” Yoongi, in fact, could believe that. Anyone could really; Jungkook tends to be overly cocky with people he’s pursuing and it doesn’t always work out. Yoongi doesn’t know _____ well at all but he can’t blame the woman. Jungkook shifts in his still, nearly falling out of the seat as Yoongi quietly catches him.

They sit together at 13, Jungkook babbling on like an idiot while Yoongi quietly listens like usual. It’s quiet in the bar for the most part, early enough in the day that there aren’t many customers yet. Plus, this corner has been deemed Yoongi’s corner, and if anyone even tried to take his spot he’ll eat them alive.

He’s heard stories from not just Jungkook about this woman and JKs antics, but also from Hoseok. Jungkook fucking his bike up more often (on ours pose? He’ll never know), hanging around the mechanic shop like it’s his new home, finding any and every reason to be there. All because of a pretty receptionist he’s set his eyes on…

“Like come ON, I’m a fuckin catch, I know I am. Have you seen m-me? She acts li-like she hosted me but I KNOW she doesn’t!” Raising a brow, the smaller man says nothing and just nods his head. He’s seen Jungkook in every way; piss drunk, butt ass naked, you name it, he’s seen it. JK turns into a menace when he’s shit faced though, and right now, he’s fucking gone. He turns to Yoongi with big doe eyes, nearly looking innocent before the vulgar worlds leave his mouth.

“You’d fuck me right? I’m fuckable?!” A sigh escapes him as Jimin stops in front of them with a another drink hand, winking cutely before sliding it to Jungkook with a flourish. Minnie watches the younger man down it with a sly smile, poking his cheek before he walks away with a swing to his hips.

“I’d fuck you baby.” Jimin calls it back over his shoulder like a passing thought, Jungkook slamming the glass down on the table, cheeks red. Yoongi watches, slightly concerned, slightly amused as the youngest in their group waves his arms around wildly. And here he thought Hoseok was the dramatic one.

“See? Jimin would fuck me! But she won’t even give me the time o’ day… Maybe she’s intim-intimidated my by ripped bod. Or maybe… She hasn’t seen enough of it! That’s it!” A snort this time and a shake of the head, Yoongi raises his whisky up and takes a small sip of the burning liquid. The kid always gets a little out of sorts over being rejected but this… This is different. Wildly different. He’s never gone so far out of his way to get someone’s attention. It’s a curious thing.

Jungkook sniffs, eyes glazed over as he puts all his attention on Yoongi. The older waits silently with slightly widened eyes, allowing JK to collect his thoughts before he raises a hand up and pats Yoongi’s shoulder. Then his head. Then his cheek. His smile is so sincere that Yoongi can’t even begin to get annoyed.

“Thanks for talkin this out with me Yoon. You’re such a-a good buddy.” And then his lip wobbles and Yoongi’s mood shifts from acceptance to horrified in seconds. One tear leaves Jungkook’s large eyes, then another, and then Yoongi has a grown man curled up in his lap, sobbing like a baby. He pats JKs back gently, unsure of how to handle things.

Looking toward the others, he finds no form of help as Taehyung and Jimin stare back. Jimin’s giggling like it’s the funniest shit he’s ever seen, Tae trying very hard not to lose it in front of the customers. Looking back down, he tucks a small piece of hair behind Jungkook’s ear and sighs for the millionth time in the last hour.

“Shh… Don’t cry… I’m here…”

#handlebars #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts biker au #bts gang au

[jboofan]

There's something wrong with Manager Kim part 4

Why do you hate me?

"Just so you know," he pointed his chopsticks at her, "you are disgusting."

"Yoongi, like what the fuck man?" Jin pushed his chair back. Red in the face he pointed at him.

"You apologise!"

YN yanked her brother's arm to make him sit again.

"Well it's a good thing I don't mother fuckin care what you think then isn't it champ?" she gave him a big smile, and blinked at him several times.

"I sincerely hope he will die in his sleep tonight," she shook her head at Jin as she faced him stabbing her stick into a piece of sushi.

Yoongi tried to enjoy his food, ignore the flurry of motion beside him, but his appetite seemed to disappear, empty chopstick in mouth as soon as he saw her hand go across his plate to refill her water.

"You having fun?" he itched his arm hard constantly, causing it to turn red instantly.

"Pretty sure the world was until you were born," she couldn't help the speed of the come back. "And stop scratching like you got rabies."

Yoongi's eyes narrowed sharply.

Her interpersonal skills were outstanding, but the way in which she pulled in each and every one of the members had him scrambling to remember why he was so against having her work so closely with him. The way she unhanded people with a smile was, well, simply unnerving.

"Listen you—"

He paused as Taehyung and YN's hands accidentally touched reaching for the water jug, and the way even his own best friend Hobi was enraptured by her zest for life. He gave him a dirty look. Traitor.

"It's lunch, and I'm hungry. It's really not that deep, so whatever has your knickers in a twist this time, can you untwist it enough to let me finish eating before you start being you again?" YN smiled not bothering to look at him. It had become a talent being about to sense his eyes on the back of her head.

"If you stop wearing clothes that leave barely anything to the imagination, and stop flirting with every thing that moves then yeah, maybe I can."

YN snipped her chopsticks at the pickled radish stopping him from picking it up.

They were fighting at the table, so loudly everyone was finding it difficult to pretend they were ignoring it.

"Don't you think you're going overboard here?"

"Why? Cos I think you're trying to make me jealous. Your tight outfit and that fake smile," he sniped his chopsticks back at her this time, "the fake cute way you eat like you're never gonna eat again."

YN looked at him. Really looked at him.

"What's your deal? Like did we sleep together and I didn't call the next day? Or did you give me your number but I didn't call back? I swear I'd remember."

She looked at Jin.

"Seokjin, did I date a BTSer? Not even a cute one."

"Who is the cute one then?" Jin couldn't resist being a troublemaker, especially when Yoongi deserved it for crashing his bike.

"Jungkook definitely. I saw him bench yesterday," she gave him a wink watching his cheeks turn brought red.

"Or let's be honest, you can't sleep on Namjoon over there. Man looks like he could snap a girl in half and still read poetry to her the next morning over coffee."

Namjoon choked on his water, Hobi having to tap his back hard to help the poor boy.

"Don't worry leadernim, your fandom loves you, I wouldn't do it, one must be professional," she switched her attention back to Yoongi.

"I'm just trying to make the point here that I have never in any shape or form, this universe or any other metaverse fucked you and dashed, so why the fuck are you so horrible to me?"

He scoffed, "I'm not stupid you know," like he knew some big secret no one else knew about.

"Yeah, I believe you," she rolled her eyes, pinching his thigh to get him to wince in pain and drop his chopsticks long enough for her to grab more pickle.

Yoongi pinched her back just as hard, causing her to let out a high pitched shrill much to his amusement, only feeling bad when she bit her tongue and had streaming tears because of it.

She'd done everything for this idiot, and still he looked at her as though she had burned down his home. With him still in it.

"Omo YN," Jin turned to her with concern. "Are you okay?" he searched for a clean napkin.

"Du ah sounth like I um?" she sniffed back the tears, tipping her head back.

Yoongi felt guilt as soon as he saw YN lean back in her chair, hair out of her eyes as he glimpsed a few tears trail their way to her ear.

She deserved it, the little voice in his head justified. She pinched you first.

Refusing to apologise, no longer able to stomach her image in front of him, Yoongi quietly excused himself to go back to the dorm with Hobi and Namjoon who had finished just before him.

"You sure you're okay?" Jin asked again once Yoongi had left the table.

"God, he is such a jerk," she explained as her phone continued to rattle next to her. "What is his problem. I am always so nice, literally trying to help the man, but he is just such a bully!"

"He is, but if there is anyone that can get through to him, it's you."

"I'm not sure anything is worth the fact HE IS SO RUDE!" she grabbed the bottle out of Jin's hand and necked the rest of the soju.

Jin looked at her worried. Maybe Dad shouldn't have had her do this.

YN may have spent the last ten and bit years away from her brother, but some things never changed. Since childhood if he was annoyed, he pursed his lips. If he was loosing his shit, it would be that plus the red face, followed by a long, long list of expletives.

"But I'm YN," she declared to the table as Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook and a very confused Jin watched her. "I don't mind helping people you know, but what I'd give to help a chair to his face sometimes."

Jin patted her hand, failing to calm her down.

"Look, we start our PTD Seoul dates next week so all you have to worry about is going to the arena on time."

"We'll be performing for four days, you don't need to worry about Hyung being grumpy so much," Jimin smiled, attempting to raise her spirits.

"I guess so," she told herself. "And it's back to back so I don't have to deal with it right," she pushed her plate away, groaning at Yoongi's latest message - a barrage of words about the incompetence of the design team and that his clothes were the size of curtains.

"Aren't you going to have dessert?" Jungkook looked up from the menu, as he realised she was pulling her coat on.

"Mr Min has decided that I won't be having dessert today," she sighed, picking up her things. "See you guys later, at the radio show."

Yoongi heard her first, mostly out of breath as she made it to the lift spouting off her thanks for no one being in it as she got in to meet Jin.

Even with a mask on, he could make out her features. Those large evil almond shaped eyes seemed to want to take over the whole world, her little evil hands touched everything new. Those evil petite feet seemed to never keep still.

She can't have been that exhausted as she managed to find time for a costume change. How did she even manage that with all the stupid errands he had her run?

He waited for her to enter, saw that she got off at the ground level before deciding he would meet her there, mostly to annoy her and try and find some mundane task to irritate her with.

What was she doing walking around here on her own? Usually she was flanked by the maknae bodyguard unit and it's leader Jin but she was solo.

**

YN smiled as she made out the group van and proceeded to walk across the car park. The sound of a car in the distance, the squeak of tyres on tarmac hadn't registered as she felt herself pulled back by her hand bag strap.

Yoongi grabbed hold of the first thing he could and pulled her back, missing the van that was turning a corner.

"You got eyes in that head of yours?" he scolded her as he let go and wiped his hands of her.

"I do thank you very much. God, can't you go fly off? Isn't your broomstick here somewhere?" she tutted at him and stalked off as Jin pulled open the door and waved her over.

Yoongi cleared his throat, agitated and feeling the blood rising in his head again. "Broomstick? Do I look like Harry Potter to you?"

Annoyed he kicked the air in front of her as she stuck her tongue out.

"More like an ugly old witch," she sneered, hiding behind Jin no longer feeling brave when Yoongi didn't seem to stop walking towards them.

"Why haven't you left for the radio interview? You have no schedule with me now," she called out before getting into the van. "Se-Jin Hyung said you were leaving with him."

"I changed my mind and decided to have you accompany me there. You're welcome that you get to spend your time with me."

YN rolled her eyes at him, sure they were going to drop out any moment.

"Dumbass I would have to go anyway, I'm a hostage remember."

"We're just going out for a bit after the interview," Jin told him, not realising that she didn't want him to share their plans with the miserable Min here. "We'll see you later."

Completely missing the point Yoongi shrugged his shoulders.

"Is it now, that sure does sound like fun..maybe I'll join you?"

"What why? Can't you ride with the others? Me and Jin have plans after this," she sulked.

Why has she changed her outfit after their early dinner? And for an work interview.

"Why did you change?" Yoongi asked breaking the silence.

YN gathered her handbag, slipped her heels back on, checked her make up and got out the car.

YN simply shrugged. "I felt like it."

"So where are we going?" he asked pressing for Ground Level, Jin had followed behind them as the maknaes slipped in before the doors closed, having got to the venue just after them.

"We're going to MBC Open Radio, they show you live via webcam and not just on the radio, didn't you read your schedule?" she looked at him.

"Why bother when you're gonna be there sorting it anyways, right?" 

YN scoffed, "See, this is why you are an ass."

Yoongi finally looked at her, "You're gonna go out looking like that? You ain't going clubbing. Don't you guys have like a uniform or something to wear?"

"Oh my God, what are you? My Dad now?" YN looked at her outfit, then back at him.

"Look at what you're wearing!" he pointed at her.

"Don't worry there's no distinct possibility of you being a Dad, from what I've heard, you need to actually get it up for that to happen!" she pointed back.

"Puh lease, I got game. I got lots of game."

"Ha! That's half your problem right there.."

The door pinged open and the two of them looked away and stormed out at the same time. Both knocked their shoulders, and tried to get out at the same time, becoming stuck.

Jin, Jimin and Taehyung stood, coffee cups in their hands, watching the two of them arguing with each other, both stuck and refusing to give in to the other.

"Check these two out," Jungkook pointed with his coffee cup toward the lift.

"Nice one, you idiot, move back," he told her.

"Don't call me an idiot. You move back, stupid idiot!" she said elbowing him back.

Yoongi moved back, hands suddenly in the air surrendering. YN smiled triumphantly as she flicked her hair back.

"Finally."

She stepped out of the lift and took a step forward just as he stuck his foot out and watched her tumble over onto her knees. 

The guys stood open mouthed as Yoongi stepped past her and laughed manically, gummy teeth on show.

Unknown to him, and not one to be kept down, YN sprung up like a daisy and grabbed his ankles as they moved past her, as she lay sprawled out on the floor.

"Oh no you don't."

She muttered pulling on his ankles and watching him fall flat on his face. YN jumped up, tossed her hair and listened to him groan as she stepped on his back to get past him, and headed to the station entrance, like nothing ever happened.

"Come on Meow Meow!" she called, smirking as she put her Ray Bans on and headed outside, "We don't have all day!"

The guys continued to watch as Yoongi, swearing under his breath scrambled to his feet cursing after her.

Jin took a sip of Jimin's coffee.

"I'm not even gonna ask what the hell that was, but I'm sure he deserved it."

*

"Hi guys, welcome to the infamous MBS Garden Radio live, the only show that lets you not just hear but see the best radio show."

A woman holding s clipboard came out smiling at them widely, "I'm the producer Da-Mi, and the host is Park Myung-Soo. Come on through, and we'll get you guys all wired up," smiled the short brunette women politely.

YN did what she usually did when Yoongi had an appointment. She followed him in, and watched as he was seated and an assistant producer got the audio ready for him, whilst she got to sit on the sofa out the way, observing. Normally she didn't bother to listen but today was not a normal day.

"Hi Da-Mi I'm YN. Nice to meet you. I wanted to double check you got the email about the interview?"

Da-Mi smiled, "Yep got that from you guys thanks. Myung-Soo also got a copy and we are all good to go," she said getting the heads up to get seated.

The interview started off good, they asked the usual questions about the band, rehearsals, travelling and about the upcoming concerts. 

Myung-Soo smiled, "Now you guys have a show on the weekend, BTS is going to paint the town purple and all tickets are sold out! That's fantastic for you guys!"

Yoongi looked around the place lazily not hearing his name.

"So, Suga a lot of our listeners are also interested in hearing your take on the rumours flying around from your ex girlfriends, do you care to comment?"

YN's ears shot up and she got up off the sofa and went and sat next to him.

No one had asked him straight out about everything that was happening. And now it was happening, live.

Yoongi looked awkwardly at her for a second, unsure what to say.

"Look Myung-Soo Ssi, er, we're—" stammered Yoongi.

"We're not hear to discuss that," she finished, smiling into the microphone. She shot Da-Mi a look and she motioned for Myung-Soo to stop talking.

Myung-Soo waved her off and continued talking.

The dick.

"I know, I know we shouldn't talk about this, but I know our fans would love to hear your side of the story Suga," he goaded.

YN turned her mike off and pointed to Da-Mi.

"Go to fucking commercial. Right now."

*

YN was fuming, she looked back at Myung-Soo answering before Namjoon managed to find a polite way to word it.

"We specifically outlined what we were here to talk about. Not Min Yoongi's personal life."

"I just think our fans and the listeners would enjoy hearing his side of the story. What's the truth, and what's not."

YN laughed evilly, as she looked around the table Yoongi nervously laughed too.

"I'm sorry we agreed to come on a music talk show, to discuss the latest happenings with BTS and their first concert in person, in two years. Not to anything that deviates from that."

She knew she would be in double trouble if CEO Bang heard about his girlfriends on the radio, instead of bigging up the next concert.

She crossed her arms, "If I knew we were coming on The E network with Slick DICK we wouldn't have agreed to this," she said sarcastically.

Yoongi had that horrible feeling in his stomach. Those damn exes were making his life a misery. He shook his head, how fucked up had his life become, that Crazy YN was standing here defending him.

Se-Jin got off the phone to head office and was telling Da-Mi to cancel the remainder of the interview if Myung-Soo wasn't going to stay on topic.

Myung-Soo had the audacity to laugh, "Listen there's nothing wrong with him having slept with them, and them trying to make some money off it; that's what happens when you're a big name."

"Park Myung-Soo we are not here to discuss any tabloid rumours," Se-Jin repeated again sternly as he motioned for the boys to get up.

Myung-Soo smirked, "Come on, you can't blame me for wanting to ask. You tapping her too right?" he pointed to YN.

Yoongi slammed his hands on the table. "That's taking it too far pal. Too far."

YN didn't even flinch as he slammed his hands loudly. She got up and stared at the DJ.

"You got two options. My way, or my way. Kindly stick to what we agreed or we don't need to be here. There are plenty of radio stations who want to talk to BTS, and if you wanna give your fans something to talk about, how about we touch on the rumours of your infidelity and you fathering not one but two kids with your baby mama. I can play that game too Park Myung-Soo."

He looked at her and swallowed hard, recovering quickly with a smile. YN returned the smile, and waited. 

Myung-Soo spoke first, "YN I gotta give it to you. You got some balls. That's cool, we won't talk about that, but come back again, I'd love to do a feature on you. What do you do at Hybe? You a new female artist? Manager? A genius producer?" 

Yoongi looked confused, "Wait a sec, this interview isn't about YN."

Myung-Soo clapped his hands, "But she's so fierce, strong. Our fans would be intrigued to know more about her."

YN was starting to sweat. No one needed to know about her, then they would know that she was YN Bang not a Kim but a Bang..and then people would find out that she was Jin's sister—

"Earth to YN.."

YN looked peaky. 

Yoongi looked at her, "YN?" he asked a little softer, she looked a bit sick almost.

"I'm gonna just wait outside," she tapped her knuckles on the table, and slipped out as they continued the show. "Fresh air."

*

YN stood in the parking lot, and called for her car to come back and collect them. She closed her eyes breathing slowly. 

"Just take it easy, nothing is going to happen." YN repeated the mantra till she felt less anxious.

"Give me your bag."

YN stopped chanting and turned around to see a skinny guy with a hoodie on. 

"Sorry did you say something?" she asked.

"I said, give me your bag." He reached out and grabbed her bag.

"Piss off, do you know how hard I worked to buy this bag?" she pointed at him, and pulled her bag back from him. "It's not like I have Dad's money. I worked hard on my own!"

"Listen lady, I don't care. Give me the damn bag!" he said impatiently.

"Well I'm going to tell you anyway. It was two years ago and I was.."

Yoongi signed out at reception and saw YN outside tousling with some guy, pulling her handbag back and forth. He dashed outside, and down the stairs.

"Yah!" he shouted. 

YN stopped her explanation as Yoongi grabbed the guy, and forced him to let go of the bag.

"Why couldn't you have just waited inside?" Yoongi hissed at her grabbing hold of her bag.

"I needed some fresh air. What I need your permission to breathe now?"

"Well you came outside and look what happened!"

Yoongi and YN each held a handle and continued to argue. "So what am I supposed to do? Not ever go outside?" she shouted back.

"No. You wait for me or someone else to escort you. And next time don't jump into a conversation, and try to defend me, you made me look like an idiot, who needed a girl to stand up for him."

The guy stood there watching them argue. "Excuse me," he said.

"What?!" they shouted in unison at him.

"I'm sorry, you guys are clearly having a worse day than I am. I'm gonna just go."

"I'd run far far away if I were you pal. She's ruining my life. Save yourself."

"Er, well if you hadn't choked when he mentioned it, I wouldn't have had to interfere and tell him to stop talking about it. And why does he need to run away?" YN turned to face the mugger, "You wait right there. Don't you dare move!" she shouted at him.

YN turned back to Yoongi, "If anyone is stupid here, it's you!"

"Me? How the hell did you come up with that princess!" he shouted back in the parking lot at her.

Conveniently their car finally arrived. YN stormed off, not bothering to check where Jin or any of the others were as she got in.

"How dare you! I'm Min Yoongi. Genius producer. I don't need this!" he called after her.

"Yeah, you're so successful aren't you! That's why you the only one who needs a nanny!" she shouted out the window, laughing at him.

Yoongi gasped. "That's low! Even for the likes of you!" he shouted as he got in after her. "Move your fat ass up, you're taking up both seats with it."

This time YN gasped. "Ha! At least I have an ass, your back goes straight to your legs. You don't even have one!"

They carried on arguing through the centre of town all the way to the boutique that Jin wished to visit, as their driver turned up the radio to drown them out.

"What? Why are you staring at me?" Yoongi snapped at her.

"You have spinach in your teeth. This whole time," she smiled as she watched his try and find a surface shiny enough to check his teeth.

@craftymoonchaos @bbl32 @pb-n-juju @ireadthensuetheauthors @audreonne

#bts jin #bts taehyung #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #bts min suga #yoongi imagine #bts #yoongi x yn #suga x yn #bts imagines #bts smau #bts social media au #bts smut #bts texts #yoongi imagines #suga imagines #enemies to lovers #bts jungkook

[xlovelyyoongix]

wake up | myg

summary: reader wakes yoongi up in a special way.

paring: non-idolYoongi x Reader (established relationship)

rating: 18+ ONLY

genre: fluff, smut

w/c: 1k

warnings: cursing, oral sex, (m. receiving) switch reader, switch yoongi. (If you catch anything else I forgot to add, please don’t hesitate to let me know)

a/n: I wrote this in under an hour cuz ima hoe... 🤣 anyways, please enjoy 💕

Getting the chance to witness Yoongi as he slept was a rarity of its own. The raven-haired male was infamous for waking up before the early chirps of newborn birds and falling asleep only after you've drifted off into dreamland, so today was something special. Having him rest so soundly beside you, warm sunlight spilling across his flawless skin, and thick lashes soft against the apples of his cheeks as the rhythm of his faint breath exhaled past his lips.

"You're so beautiful." You soundly whisper, watching as Yoongi slowly began to wake from his slumber.

Your fingers begin to dance along the flesh of his ivory chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps down it’s path. The further you venture, the more you notice something twitching underneath the thin fabric of the sheets. "Oh," You giggle, eyes panning to the stiff erection, standing proudly beneath the linen.

"Baby~?" You mew softly, fingers trickling past his torso to the edge of his waistband. "Is this okay?"

Yoongi's lashes slowly begin to flutter open, tongue darting across his dry lips out of habit. It takes a moment for his vision to come to, but when it does, you're the first thing he sees. Your wild bedhead framing around your delicate face, eyes narrowed seductively low, and plump lips formed into the shape of a wicked smirk. It was then he noticed your hand, so dangerously close to the needy dick twitching in his boxers. "Please."

Never one to turn down your lover, your hand slips beneath the thin layer of fabric, immediately met with the heat of Yoongi's manhood. Your fingers find the thick base of his shaft, palming around the veiny, hot flesh.

Yoongi utters a grunt, stuttering his hips upward due to the bewitching sensation of your sweet touch. "You're always so sensitive when I touch you here." You giggle, palm slowly beginning to work up and down his shaft.

Yoongi's breath staggers in his throat, eyelids riding low as a familiar tightness begins to coil within the pit of his abdomen. "I-I had a dream..." He struggled to articulate his speech, your soft hand around his dick having an effect on him. "A-about you."

Your tongue flirtatiously darts across your bottom lip, "Oh, yeah?" you start with a smirk, antagonizing his sexual frustration. "What was your dream about, baby?" You squeeze your hand tighter, just how Yoongi liked it.

Yoongi's throat releases a hiss, eyelashes fluttering as he takes a nibble out of his lip." Y-you were s-sucking me o-of." He stuttered in the form of a slight pout, and fuck did you love it when he pouted. "B-but you didn't l-let me c-cum." Jet orbs glossing over

"Aww, that's so mean of me." You reply coyly, fingers teasing around his mushroom tip, massaging in his sticky pre-cum. "Do you think you deserve to cum, Yoongi?" you ask, toying with his dick as if it were your own personal plaything.

"I- I do deserve it." He finds the strength to say. "I'm a good m-man to you, aren't I?" He makes sure to add as if to plead his case.

"Yes, you're very good to me, Yoongi." His body shivers as you whisper into the shell of his ear. "So I'll give you what you want." After maneuvering under the sheets, you slowly peel back the waistband of Yoongi's boxers, allowing his tall erection to spring free. You lick your lips at the mighty sight, pre-cum glistening at the tip, healthy veins protruding from the sides, and a thickness that made you crave him even more. "You always look so yummy," You say, tongue darting out to collect the first taste of his red tip.

"Shit," Yoongi grunts, uncontrollably jolting his hips upward.

You were never one to leave your boyfriend unsatisfied, so opening your mouth wide and swallowing him whole was always the option with the best results. The tip of your nose reaches the forest of his pubic hair, tongue massaging the bottom of his shaft. The grunts and moans slipping past Yoongi's lips give the encouragement to hold your gag reflex, allowing you to relax your throat.

"Oh, fuck." Yoongi's hands move on their own, gripping the back of your hair to hold your mouth in place. With eyes rolled back, he's inching his shaft as far as it can reach. Your mouth feels immaculate around him, the thick wetness of your saliva and the tightness of your throat, fuck he could orgasm then and there. "C-can I...?" Yoongi mutters, almost too afraid to ask.

You know precisely what Yoongi means by his question; he wants to take control. The very thought of him using your mouth and throat for his sexual leisure causes a spike of pleasure to pulse between your thighs. So, of course, you nod to his request.

Gripping at the back of your hair tighter, Yoongi guides your hollowed-out mouth slowly up and down his thickness. "T-tap me if y-you need to b-breathe." He utters, eyes rolling back to the erotic sensation your hungry mouth was providing.

You nod to the suggestion but also know you won't be needing air anytime soon. After years of being with Yoongi, you've perfected the art of inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils.

"Shit, y-your mouth is so good." Yoongi stutters while you bob your head to the speed that he desired, erotic wet sounds exuded from beneath the sheets. "I-I fuckin love you." With every passing moment, the pulsing in Yoongi's dick intensifies along with the aching to release. "Wanna swallow for me, baby?"

You thought it cute that he even asked, and if his dick wasn't being shoved halfway down your esophagus, you would have giggled, but instead, you nod to his request.

"G-gotta see you," Yoongi yanks away the sheets, revealing your sexy mouth gobbling away at his dick, thick saliva collecting at the base of his shaft and your alluring, hazed eyes gazing up at him; his own personal goddess. "My sexy girl gonna take my load in her mouth? You gonna do that for me?"

You don't stop bobbing, sucking him all in as your eyes screamed the words, "yes, please."

As if on queue, the rubber band sensation, stretching in the pit of Yoongi's abdomen, finally snaps. "Oh, fuck!" He yells, holding your head in place to collect the large amount of cum releasing into your throat. He thrusts a few final times, colors exploding in his vision while riding the explosive high of his orgasm.

And just like he asked, you have no problem swallowing it all, gulping down the salty evidence of your boyfriend's orgasm, before your lips release the tip of his dick with a -pop-.

A satisfied smile gleams across Yoongi's rosy cheeks as he grabs your arm, gesturing you to lay beside him, "Come here."

Doing as you're told, your head plops into the pillow beside Yoongi's head, gazing into his glossy, hooded eyes.

"You're so fuckin perfect," Yoongi says, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead, thanking you for the happy ending he'd just received. "What do you want for breakfast?" his fingers stroking throughout your hair as he watched you in awe.

The light glaze of sweat glistening across Yoongi's skin and the softness in his deep, onyx eyes melted you inside. You loved him so much that after 2 years of being together, butterflies still managed to flutter in the pit of your stomach. "Pancakes!" You nearly shout, a bit too excited at the mention of breakfast.

Yoongi chuckles at your animated behavior. "Let's get showered, and then I'll make you a tall stack of pancakes." He watches as the excitement grows in your eyes, reminding him of the many reasons why he fell hard for you. "I love you." Yoongi manages to sneak in the phrase before you could respond.

Your heart did that thing where it nearly somersaulted out of your chest. How did you get so lucky to have such a beautiful, perfect man in your bed every morning? So, without hesitation, you respond, "I love you too, Min Yoongi."

date posted: 4-6-2020

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