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kithtaehyung · 2 years

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friends (3tan) (m) | myg

title: friends (the week, pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the week you get with yoongi has a few surprises. and one of them presents itself in the form of a phone call. warnings: cursing, tension, oc’s are introduced!!, oral (m rec), degradation, the amount of kiss scenes wow lol, power dynamics (cmnf), fingering, angst yeah i know, throat fucking, choking, rude yoongi :))), multiple orgasms, breast play, cum swallowing, the chains stay on😀😀😀, cunt slapping, sl*t/wh*re mentions, dirty talk, yoongi’s mouth in general, overthinking, doubt, head/hair pulling, body worship, praise, restraining via headboard a ha ha, this one is p angsty y’all😭 note: thank you to @sugakookitty for being an angel beta !! i know this was super last minute i am so so sorry. i owe you some tangerines! note 2: and here we are again. i hope you all like this installment, and i wanted to thank everyone for being so patient and supportive. it truly means so much to me! if you haven’t gotten around to three tangerines yet, i highly encourage you to read the series first since this is from the same universe :D it would make more sense! word count: 15.6k drop date: april 26th, 2022, 7:17pm est

“Long weekend, huh?”

On instinct, you nudge Taehyung with your shoulder, hearing him laugh into his tea straw while the both of you amble down a dilapidated sidewalk.

Despite its rugged form, the concrete path remains one of the cleaner ones in the city, hugging the longer side of an old shopping center filled with newer businesses.

It’s one you remember walking down many, many times.

“I said shut up,” you emptily huff. “I’m not telling you shit.”

“You don’t have to, dude. The way you look tells me everything.”

Afternoon traffic reaches your ears as you toss intrigue your friend’s way. “And what does that mean?”

“You outshine the sun right now.”

“Wow.” Taking a sip of your usual boba selection, you clear your throat to relieve yourself of the bits of embarrassment caught inside. “Shakespeare is quaking in his grave.”

Taehyung snorts. “Please. I’d run circles around that old man.”

“Wouldn’t doubt that. You’re both lame.”

“And you’re glowing but won’t spill. I dunno why you’re acting.”

“Huh?”

A fiendish smile slips between you before he replies, “I know you’re dying to talk about it.”

Fuck Kim Taehyung for being so right all the time.

Because screw it, you really are. So much happened between you and Yoongi that you’re almost bursting at the seams with giddiness. The only thing dampening your mood is the fact that you can’t possibly let this secret out, as much as you want to shout about it from the rooftops.

If you release whatever you have out in the world—even if just to one person—it may have a way of traveling a lot further than you planned. And with that comes certain risks.

Like the risk of your brother finding out.

However, the person wanting to know is Taehyung. And he already knows the juiciest part.

“Okay, fine,” you blurt, hiding your smile with another sip. “But not out here.”

Your annoying best friend slowly scans around the empty area with intention, his gaze landing on a patch of shrubbery next to his knees. “Right. I would hate for these bushes to know your dirty little secret.”

“Ugh! Just not in public. Let’s go to your place.”

“Ah… Let’s go to yours.”

Quirking a brow, you watch his steady features before relenting. The excitement to tell anyone outweighs your curiosity—for the time being, at least.

“Fine. But let’s get food first.”

“Oh my god, you’ve got it bad.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t rag on me for telling the truth!”

You roll your eyes as you take another bite of your takeout. “You weren’t supposed to be so judgy.”

“I’m not being judgy,” Taehyung laughs. “Just observant.”

“Well, either way. It’s not true.”

Even though his mouth is full, you can clearly tell he calls “bullshit” through black bean noodles and meat. Watching the television in front of you, you decide not to offer any replies, simply observing the drama switch to another scene with telltale heart-filled filters.

Admittedly, your vision seems to have that same effect.

Because you can’t fucking stop thinking about Yoongi and the week you get him to yourself.

You haven’t felt like this in ages, like your stomach can’t settle but your heart has it far worse—buzzing, tingling, fizzing all over. Thousands of butterflies occupy your chest, fluttering and beating so loud that they kept you up all of last night and carried you throughout your entire, otherwise shitty workday.

Fuck, you wanna see him.

“Like I said.”

Damn it.

“You got it bad.”

“Okay, okay,” you groan, setting your food down with a pout. “I may be into him a little bit.”

Taehyung looks so affronted that you laugh, cheeks a little tighter than usual.

At this, your friend regards you with scrunched brows and a grin, getting up from the floor to sit on the couch next to you. Cross legged and all. “Look at you! Okay, you’re hiding something. Spill.”

“I told you everything!”

“Liar.”

“I swear.”

“Get real.”

You start to vacate your seat when a large hand shoots up and grabs your wrist.

“Ah ah. Tell me, miss guilty. Whatever you’re hiding from me is huge.”

Plopping back down, you think about exactly what you want to say, knowing that you’re not giving that secret up. You divulged pretty much everything else that happened over the weekend: the way Yoongi came over, the way he took you back to his place, and everything that went down while you were there.

But there’s one thing you are not going to uncover.

And it’s safely hidden away in a jewelry box in your room.

“I know what it is.”

Cocking your head, you observe your friend with narrow eyes, horrified for a split second that he’ll be right yet again. “What then?”

“He asked you out.”

And Taehyung finally misses by a longshot.

“Hell no!”

“He did, didn’t he! I knew it. He has it even worse than you do.”

A laugh leaves your throat before you can stop it. Your friend can say whatever he wants but that is certainly not the case. There’s no way.

Besides, the dating stage is a pipe dream, so there’s no need to even entertain that.

This week is just… a separate timeline. Broken off from the normal passing of things and sectioned off for the two of you to play pretend.

“He does not have it worse than I do,” you finally sigh, placing your chin in a palm and watching a love confession unfold in countless pixels. “And he did not ask me out. You said yourself he doesn’t do relationships.”

“Technically, no. But it’s not like he hasn’t been in one before.”

That’s true. You remember Yoongi had a couple more-than-flings, or regulars as all your brother’s friends referred to them as. But even then, it seemed he kept his options open. At least, from what you somewhat gathered by passing rumors on the sidewalk and in several cramped garages.

But him? With you?

Fairytales aren’t real.

Opportunities are.

And the both of you just happened to seize this particular one by the throat.

“I know, Tae,” you sigh as you turn away from the screen. Love confessions aren’t exactly real, either. Not like the ones in shows that seem to be perfect and timely and precede a happily ever after. “But you know how he is.”

“Apparently not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“He cooked with you.”

“So?”

Taehyung shoots you a look that screams for you to get his point. “That’s some married life shit!”

“Stop!” you gasp, burying your head further into your hand. “It’s not a big deal!”

“When have you ever heard of him cooking with someone, let alone letting you stay after fucking?”

“I don’t keep tabs on him, Tae.”

“You should now. But ignoring that.” He flops his legs down on the ground and shifts himself forward, his turn to watch the aftermath of the confession. “I’ve never heard him do that with anyone ever since his last relationship.”

“So?”

“I dunno. I just…” Biting a nail, Taehyung keeps his eyes unblinking. “It’s interesting. Since he practically swore off them since then.”

Ah.

You didn’t know that.

You also weren’t exactly privy to his last real relationship anyway, since it happened while you were still in university.

But you do remember your brother getting irritated and slightly annoyed that he barely saw him once he was in one.

You wonder what Yoongi’s like with someone he’s willing to commit to. And you wonder if it’s even better than what you experienced yesterday.

Fuck. Your heart starts to hurt at the prospect of that being true.

Because yesterday was one of the best days of your life.

“You look happy,” Taehyung continues, snipping your thoughts in two. “I won’t deny that.”

And you turn back to face the television and admit, “I am.”

“But I’m also trying to stay realistic.”

“Yeah.”

“So if you ever feel like the ride’s too rough, get off.”

“…Yeah.”

It’s nightfall when you finally decide to flip open the jewelry box in your room, taking out the top layer to reveal its hidden section underneath.

And the key that you were given twenty-four hours ago.

Your stare is long before you finally decide to fish it out, feeling all the possibilities that come with it in your fingers. All the doors that have been opened with this one gesture alone.

The spare is heavier now than when you first took it.

Gnawing on your lip, you bring it all the way to your bed, halfway sitting on the edge and contemplating whether to even use it or not.

Do you give in the first night? Is that being too eager? Too clingy? It’s possible that Yoongi would think so even if he never said anything. Even though you were able to get to know him a lot more than you expected, that man is still a walking enigma. You still don’t exactly know how he truly operates.

…But what if you don’t use it tonight and he takes it the wrong way?

That’s also a probable case. Maybe he expects you to use it already and, if you prove him wrong, he’ll come home to an empty apartment. How would he feel then? Would he even care?

Frankly, would Yoongi even care whether you used the key or not?

Fuck!

A loud groan flies out of your throat and shoots through your ceiling, and you flop back onto your sheets, weighed down by the mountain of thoughts in your head.

There’s another reason why you haven’t reached a solid decision yet.

Yoongi hasn’t texted or called since this morning.

It was a quick conversation between the two of you, and the content wasn’t anything major. However, that was the last time you heard from him, even after you texted him to see how work was going, wondering if it was a hell of a lot better than your day.

And still, hours and hours later, nothing.

What Taehyung said earlier flashes in your mind with blinking red letters, but you shoo it away before you let it permeate further into your thoughts. Your week with Yoongi has only just started. No reason to get overworked with stress already.

In any case, maybe it’s best for you not to go over there until he texts back. Like he said before handing you his spare—though, you can only speculate because the entire night turned fuzzy after that—he didn’t know how the week was gonna go.

So it’s highly possible he’s just neck deep in work and can’t talk. And who are you to bother him?

You slowly get up to grab your phone before putting the key back in its hiding spot. Typing away, you create and delete and create and delete and finally decide on a message to send before getting ready for bed.

You [typing]: Next time!

You:

You [typing]: You got this !!

You:

You [10:33pm]: 😴

Tuesday hands you yet another rough day at work.

Nothing seems to move in a positive direction; the leadership decisions make no sense; people are getting snippy. Everything is puncturing your brain to find its breaking point and quite frankly it’s gonna be found soon enough.

What’s worse: none of your texts to Yoongi have been read. Not the text from last night, nor the short ones you sent this morning.

Essentially, everything sucks right now.

The last few hours of your workday crawl by, and you’re practically bolting out the door when it’s finally over. Hoping that you hear back from any of the jobs you applied for over the weekend.

Thank god Yoongi told you to—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Staring at your phone, your heart leaps out to get to your car before you do.

What the hell? How does he manage to catch you at the most ideal times? You feel incredibly relieved just to see his name.

As you answer the call, you wonder if you could ever have that same effect on him.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Finally leaving the fucking studio.”

Oh, shit. He sounds downright pissed.

Body alert, you open your car door and get inside. “Damn. You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Hold on. “When you say finally…”

“We’ve been in there since yesterday. I would’ve called you but Kook snatched up all our phones.”

Holy hell. That explains the complete radio silence, at least. Your shoulders feel much, much lighter, despite your concern for Yoongi and all the crap he’s going through himself. “Oh, shit. You let him do that?”

“He’s just lucky you picked up.”

You laugh while feeling a strange bubbling in your stomach. “He’s also lucky I’m a forgiving person.”

“So am I.”

“But damn, I’m sorry—” Words die on your tongue. You almost said baby at the end of that sentence. Oh, fuck.

Tae was right. You’ve got it stupid bad.

Your eyes squeeze shut at the thought of actually saying that out loud, embarrassment from something that didn’t even happen coating your entire body. Recovering as best as you can, you look to humor by default.

“I should’ve gone over and made food again,” you joke after clearing your throat. “Then you’d never win against me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“Giving up already?”

“I do that a lot.”

You blow air out of your mouth as you pull out of the parking lot, relishing the orange and purple hues of late afternoon skies. “Lazy!”

“Less work. And more food.”

“You know what, you can make your own damn dinner. I’m tired of you.”

A light chuckle fills your car’s speakers before Yoongi responds,

“Don’t lie.”

“Mm. I was gonna come over but now I think I’ll just stay home.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m coming over.”

Your fingers immediately grip your steering wheel. “Wait! People could see.”

“It’s one or the other, doll. Better choose quick.”

“Okay, okay,” you rush out through a growing grin. “I’ll come over for a bit.”

“A bit?”

“Yes, for a bit.” As you make your way through intersections, you shake your head at how easy it is for Yoongi to make your day. You feel like someone shouldn’t get to have this power, and yet you are nothing but grateful for him.

On your way past a line of restaurants, an idea comes to mind. “Did you eat yet?”

“Nah. You?”

“No, I’m starving,” you sigh, starting to suggest that he meet you somewhere before realizing that you can’t quite do that. Damn. “I can get food then head over.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You got it last time.”

“Suit yourself.”

Swallowing the slight sadness you feel, you tell yourself to stay in the moment. Take advantage of this time you have with him without muddying it with future worries. Your voice comes out quiet when you let him go,

“See you soon then.”

And his comes out just as soft.

“See ya.”

It’s stupid.

But you wanted to do it anyway.

Holding his spare key in your fingers, you rub its metallic surface, shaking your head at yourself for going all the way home just to get it before grabbing food. Doing so made the whole trip much longer, but at least it also gave you an excuse to change out of your work clothes and freshen up a bit before coming.

Besides. When else will you get a chance to do this? When else are you ever going to get this opportunity again?

Plastic bags rustling under your determined wrist, you slide the key in his lock, twisting it and hearing the mechanisms click.

Strange.

Unlocking Yoongi’s door feels so significant, even though it’s such a mundane, everyday thing on its own accord. People do it all the time, and yet… Doing so gives you a feeling you can’t quite place.

Swinging the entrance open, you expect to see it lit and have at least something happening.

But you’re greeted with nothing.

It’s enough to make you worry.

Were you gone for that long? Did he assume you weren’t coming anymore and already go to sleep?

“...Yoongi?”

No response cuts through the dark of the living room. In fact, there isn’t even a hint of activity following your question. For a moment, you think he didn’t even make it back—until the faint light and sound slipping under his bedroom door pull you in.

Your bags shift as you tiptoe across the front area and, with each ginger step, you’re hoping that whatever greets you behind that wooden barrier doesn’t make you flee.

But when you finally near the blocked entryway, you freeze with your hand on the knob.

Because the muffled sound you hear is not just noise.

But a recording.

It’s him.

In all the times you wondered about Yoongi’s music equipment and from what he told you about his job, you rarely thought about him doing anything other than production. Sure, you entertained the idea of him on a mic, but nothing you imagined sounded like what you’re hearing now.

Do you even go in there?

Honestly, it feels like you would intrude if you did.

But, knowing Yoongi, he would probably tell you to do it anyway. Or at least try to.

So you set your stuff down on his kitchen table before going back to the door, slowly opening it and peeking your head inside.

Oh.

Adorable.

Instead of seeing him tapping away in the dark on a keyboard or clicking buttons, all you see is his head buried in the crook of his sleeved elbow, his sleeping form faintly outlined blue by the light of his monitor.

How long did you actually take?

Moving toward him, you try not to take in the looped recording too much to preserve that privacy he wanted. But damn it, the piece sounds incredible and you can’t help but feel proud of him for this one soundbite alone.

When you approach Yoongi’s side, you swallow your selfishness and pause the music.

And you already wanna hear him again.

Suddenly coated in silence, you lightly place a hand on his arm before whispering his name. After he doesn’t move the first time, you give him a gentle shake. “Yoongi?”

A deep inhale comes out of him before he lifts his head, and your brain practically resets when you notice he’s wearing the same glasses you saw months ago.

He turns to regard you with sleepy eyes. “Hey, doll.”

“Hey,” you whisper, melting on the inside. “Come eat for a sec.”

“Mmph.” Slowly, he turns his gaze to his monitor before squinting, bringing both hands up to rub his face afterwards.

Giggling, your admiration for his groggy state comes through in your teasing, “Sleepyhead. Come on, it won’t take long. Then you can pass out.”

Yoongi still doesn’t move, though he does offer you a nod.

Looks like you gotta do this the hard way.

Softly, you wrap your hand around his arm and pull upward, giving enough strength until he obliges and stands with you.

And you don’t know why you do what you do next—the cute way he looks, the fact that it’s something you’ve been wanting to do for awhile now, whatever—but you do it without much thought.

You slip your fingers down both his sleeves to take his hands in yours, telling yourself that you’re just doing it to get him across his room.

From past experience, you know his palms are rough. But when you have them cradled in yours, you don’t expect them to also be warm. Maybe it’s all those hoodies and long sleeves he always wears.

And it’s almost awkward to hold his hands, but a good kind of awkward. Just… different. New.

With all these thoughts swirling around your head, you get thrown completely off guard when Yoongi takes your fingers in his and pulls you in and oh fuck his lips are on yours now what the—

Your surprise comes out muffled as you’re slowly backed up all the way to his open door, jumping a little in shock and something else when your shoulder blades hit.

But he’s undeterred. Yoongi’s deep, slow, determined kisses keep coming, even while he closes his fingers around yours and languidly pins a hand next to your ear. Breathing through your nose, you feel his beautiful weight on your chest and stomach, matching his lazy but full licks and sucks as best as you can muster.

Why does this feel so good? Kissing had never felt this magical before. Every motion bends time itself and melts your legs into mush; heat and sparks erupt under your skin, your veins hot but never as molten as his. Smell, taste, touch. All of these are heightened and yet drowned in seconds.

What is this feeling? What is this burning hearth in your chest? It’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced, and you know this is a moment you’ll remember for a very, very long time.

But as all other good things do, this kiss comes to an end, surrendering to heavy breaths and a forehead pressing against yours.

“I’m so exhausted,” Yoongi murmurs. “But I can’t stop kissing you.”

Fuck.

Don’t give in.

You just know it’s something he would say to anyone in your position. You can’t think you’re special. You just can’t. Not when your emotions are at their absolute peak after that stunning, incredible…

Screw it.

“Then don’t.”

You initiate this time, capturing Yoongi’s lips so suddenly that he jerks back before gripping you harder.

Whatever he attempts to say comes out in a groan instead, but he recovers to lean forward and pin you right back against his door.

And the intensity jumps tenfold. The swipes he drags against your tongue, the thrust against your hips, the growls he slips into your mouth—all of them juxtapose how tired he looks. And you are absolutely caught in an inherent magnetism that only he can possess even on the verge of exhaustion.

It feels like an eternity can pass and you would still be fine staying exactly where you are: right here, in his embrace, lips locked as tight as your hands.

But reality starts to win as you both come down from your high—lowering, and lowering, and lowering—and Yoongi dips right back into his sluggish demeanor.

Feeling his head droop onto your shoulder, you offer him a smile he can’t see as you pat his arm. “Eat. Then you can sleep.”

“Mm.”

“Come on,” you encourage through a whisper, and you once again guide him out of his room and to his kitchen table.

Silently apologizing, you go to flip on the stove light to illuminate the area enough to see. As warm yellow spills into the small dining area, you walk back over to see Yoongi inspecting what you brought.

“I hope what I got is okay,” you say with little confidence.

You decided on a popular local chain, but you had to guess at what Yoongi would order there. Judging from the way he nods before digging in, you made the right choices.

That’s enough for you. Smiling to yourself, you take a seat in the middle chair before unboxing your meal.

“This is actually what I get from here.”

“Really?” you chirp as you smell the aromas coming from both dishes. “Dope. It’s what I get, too.”

“You got good taste then,” Yoongi responds with a lift of his mouth, and you both huff out tiny laughs.

At least a few parts of your day are going well. The kiss was enough to last you a lifetime, but getting Yoongi’s preferences right? Which happen to also be yours? You’re floating.

But after a few minutes of silence go by, you start to sink back down to earth. Not because of the lack of conversation—it’s quite comfortable. You just start to move your food around more than eat it, thinking about your job and how you really don’t want to go back tomorrow.

Normally, you would rant about work woes with your friends, or Taehyung. But can you do the same with Yoongi? Would he care to really listen to boring stuff like that?

“You good?”

Snapping your head up, you see a concerned stare resting behind thin specs, fiery hair a bit dulled in the low lighting.

“I’m good now,” you admit. “Work was just stupid.”

“I feel that.”

Nodding, you sigh before adjusting yourself in your chair, ultimately deciding to spare him all the dumb details about your day.

Besides, he’s clearly tired. You don’t wanna give him more things to deal with. So you settle on something he already knows about and let it end there. “I just hope I hear from one of those listings soon.”

“You will,” Yoongi assures. “Give’em time.”

Not expecting any response from him at all, you trudge on before holding back. “Okay. I just don’t wanna be stuck, you know?”

A small snort leaps from his seat. “Out of everybody I know? You wouldn’t let that happen.”

You can only stare at him before looking away.

How is Yoongi able to quell your worries so fast all the time? Is he like this with everyone? If he is, no wonder he’s gotten so many people in the palm of his hand. No wonder every person on the planet wants to steal a bit of his heart.

It’s one thing to be attractive physically. But Yoongi’s mental? It makes you have to stop yourself from launching across the table to attack him again.

Guarding your heart from getting ahead of itself, you put your chin in one of your hands. “Everyone should pay you for making them feel better all the time.”

“Huh?”

“You always know what to say to people.”

Without missing a beat, Yoongi responds.

“I hate people.”

“Liar!” you laugh out, inwardly sighing at the shit grin he beams you with. “You can’t be this nice and not like anyone.”

He simply shakes his head. When he starts to explain, his voice seems to drag across the ocean floor,

“I don’t think you get it, doll.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not like this with just anyone.”

Ah.

Roaming your eyes over his sure features, shyness quickly takes over and you become quite interested in the scratch marks in his table.

“But I mean it,” Yoongi says. “Someone will be gunning for you any day now. Don’t worry about it too much.”

A rueful smile slowly carves itself into your face. For someone that tends to overthink and wonder about every little thing, hearing things like this mean the world.

Before, the only person that could really talk sense into you was Taehyung. But it didn’t even take a handful of times for Yoongi to fill that same kind of role, whether it’s been hours or months between the times you’ve seen him.

Frankly, it’s scary how quickly you’re able to feel this connected despite your different walks of life, and the overall feeling lodged in your chest is hard to describe.

It’s like seeing a long lost friend that you were meant to find again.

Overcome with a swell of emotion, you stare at your finished food. Because there’s no way you can look anywhere else. The only thing you can get out of your slightly clogged throat is a tiny,

“Thank you.”

“It’s true,” Yoongi responds through a sudden yawn. Covering his mouth before rubbing the bottom half of his face, he exhales. “Honestly, I’m shocked you came back.”

You regard him again. “Like this town?”

He nods, eyes already shutting.

And you hum in return, all the decisions you made in the past washing up in the forefront of your mind.

You don’t think he’d want to hear any of that, either. So you simply sum it up with a much more succinct,

“Me, too.”

Closing your box, you put all the trash in one of the plastic bags, mind filled with your day and all the feelings you can’t come to terms with. So much is clouding your thoughts that you don’t realize that he’s dozing off in his seat until seconds later.

Pausing in your movements, you whisper, “Yoongi?”

“Mm.”

Technically, it’s not late, but you know he still has to wake up pretty early. And it doesn’t help that he probably didn’t get much rest while camped in the studio.

Concern laces your voice as you ask, “You sure you can wake up on time tomorrow?”

He inhales before sighing. “I dunno. But I gotta.”

Damn.

Whatever they’re working on must be incredibly important if he’s this determined. The late nights, the lockdowns, the taken phones. All of it must be weighing on his shoulders and yet he is the one making you feel better?

Maybe you can help him out. You can be his strength just as he can be yours.

“I can stay. I just need to go home and get my stuff.”

Yoongi shakes his head, hair slightly parting in the motion. “You don’t have to, doll.”

“I have to get up early for work anyway. I’ll just leave from here.”

Silent, you plead him to let you help. You’ve done it before to make sure your secret wasn’t blown, but this time is purely out of selflessness.

And Yoongi grants you your wish when he sighs out a faint,

“Okay.”

The plan was to simply go home, get your stuff, then head back.

You did not plan to get a call from one of your friends on the way there.

Cursing at the caller ID, you compose yourself before accepting, eyes back on the road when not one, but three of them answer your greeting.

“Hey, babe!”

“Where are you? Come out!”

“We haven’t seen you in forever, bitch!”

Oh, shit.

You tense, hoping they aren’t in a car and can see you driving back to your place. “I can’t tonight,” you finally remember to respond, mind whirling with possible escape routes because—

“Why not!”

“Where have you been!”

“You don’t have shit to do!”

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Gripping your wheel, you dart your eyes along the streets before swallowing your truths.

If it were any other night, you would keep your secret under wraps and let Yoongi know the change of plans. You’d go out with them and make it up to him later.

But not tonight.

Damn, why did they have to call now!

Purposefully lowering your voice, you groan, “I’ve been sick. Stomachache… I’m sorry.”

“Awhhh, babe.”

“Wait, you sound like you’re in a car, though…”

Fuck!

“Yeah, just getting stuff from the store. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

The line has a bunch of hums and groans, and you know that some of your friends don’t buy it. But thankfully, they don’t pry tonight.

“Alright, well let us know next time so we can get you soup or something.”

“Yeah, you know we got you!”

“Feel better soon, kay?”

You love them.

You hate lying to them.

“I’ll make it up to y’all, okay? Promise.”

“Oh, you’re good!”

“Feel better!”

“I’ll hold you to that, shit, forget about them.”

The laughs on the line welcome yours as you join them, and you thank everything out there that they let you go this time.

But as you say goodbye and the line cuts out, your heart drops with a thud.

This.

This is what it would be like if the two of you keep seeing each other on the regular.

You somehow avoided it for a couple days, but now reality is coming back to play. And next time, your friends may start to suspect something’s up.

Which is why you need to make the most of this week while you can.

Being in Yoongi’s bathroom a few times now, it’s a lot different when you’re in there to get ready for bed.

After your friends gave you mini heart attacks, you were so frazzled that all you did when you went home was gather clothes and all your toiletries before hauling ass back out.

Which lead you to having to get ready at the same counter that Yoongi uses everyday—minus the times he’s forced to stay in studios.

But you go through your nightly routine, head filled with several thoughts and worries and feelings, the most recent being the way your chest constricted when you unlocked Yoongi’s door to find him sleeping in his bedroom.

What would it be like to have that as your normal?

How are you in this position at all?

Looking back at the very first time you trembled for minutes on his rude welcome mat, you cannot fathom how it went from that moment to this one.

He gave you a key to the door that you were terrified to knock on.

You still can’t believe it.

Brimming with butterflies, you finish up and vacate Yoongi’s bathroom, rounding his bed to gently nestle into your side—moreso the least amount of space that you can muster. Setting your alarms, you rest your phone down before slipping your eyes shut.

You almost think about settling in closer, but you don’t want to cross any other boundaries that he could have. Accidentally hearing his recording was egregious enough.

But Yoongi’s croaky voice startles your bones.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I didn’t. But this is much better than calling you.”

He huffs out a low laugh. “True.”

And you think that’s the end of your conversation.

Until he speaks again.

“You gonna hang off the edge like that all night?”

“I…”

“Come here.”

Oh.

You turn under the covers to see faint moonlight reflecting in his drooping eyes, and you wonder how someone like him should even be allowed to exist.

Shifting forward, your chest rattles when Yoongi lifts an arm to bring you close, and he plants the softest kiss on your forehead before whispering gratitude again.

“No problem,” you sigh into the warmth of his covered chest, inhaling the scent around you that is purely him.

Quickly after, Yoongi is lost to slumber.

So you couldn’t tell him how you just lied to your friends.

Goddamn, your alarm is annoying.

But it works like a charm.

Sleepily tapping it off your screen, you twist in place. “Hey,” you whisper with eyes half-closed, “You awake?”

“Mmhmm.”

The power of your obnoxious alarm. You’re actually embarrassed to wake another person up with it, but you chose to do this in the first place.

“Good.”

Both of your voices are heavy with sleep as Yoongi rubs his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Five.”

“What time you gotta leave?”

“By six,” you yawn, unwittingly snuggling into his chest and hearing him softly laugh through his nose.

You feel a hand on your thigh before Yoongi lazily slings your leg over his, and your brain lights up at his admittance,

“I like you like this.”

“Mm,” is all you manage before your post-sleep brain rebels and says something else. “What else do you like…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re always asking me…” You breathe through your nose. “What do you like?”

You only get silence, and it goes on for so long that you figure everything just happened in your own head. As you start to doze off again, Yoongi’s raspy vocals rumble under your cheek,

“Kiss me.”

Lifting your head, you blink slowly before pushing up far enough to press your lips down onto his, breathing in deep through your nose.

The same hand resting on your leg slips down to the curve of your ass, and you quietly hum before Yoongi pulls away slightly.

“Kiss my neck.”

Staring down at his lidded eyes, you nod before lowering your lips, feeling his heartbeat beneath your chest. As you latch lips onto his column, you shut your eyes and preen at the deep groan Yoongi releases. Its vibrations scatter across your covered skin, forcing your hand to come up and lightly clutch the front of his shirt.

He cocks his head to the side to give you more room, humming low, “Mm. Just like that.”

His praise makes you bold, and you sleepily swirl your tongue over a vein before pressing deeper into his smooth skin. When he tenses, you keep swiping over that same spot, becoming more and more awake with each hiss he lets out.

Suddenly, your hand is clasped before he lowers your fingers, and you flinch when you feel his hard-on confined by sweats. Your breath whooshes onto the expanse of his neck, and before you can grab at him, Yoongi guides your hand somewhere else.

Somewhere much higher, and a lot more surprising.

Pulling away entirely, you watch him with intent from above. At your curiosity, he simply explains,

“Choke me.”

What?

Did you hear him right? Or are you still sleeping and all of this isn’t real?

With your fingers resting on the silky base of his neck, you blink. “You like that?”

“Uh huh.”

Well. You didn’t expect him to admit anything close to that, and his matter of factness is frankly attractive.

Instead of obliging right away, you slide your hand down to rake your nails over his nipple first, offering a tiny, miniscule, sleepy smirk of your own as Yoongi does the same.

Biting a corner of his lip, he warns, “Careful, baby girl.”

You chuckle as you bring your fingers to the base of his throat. “Or else what…”

“Or else—Fuck,” Yoongi groans with a sharp tilt of his head, feeling the sudden press of your fingers around his neck.

You don’t choke him completely, having never done this before. But the pressure you give seems to be more than enough for him, and your eyes blow wide at the way his eyebrows knit in pleasure.

Goddamn, he looks absolutely incredible like this.

Shrouded in sleep and lust, you swoop your head down to lap at his column again, letting instinct take over.

Curses and hisses fly out of Yoongi’s lips, and you drink them in until you feel legitimately drunk on his reactions alone.

You didn’t expect to enjoy giving him pleasure this much. If you are truthful with yourself, you don’t want to stop. You almost want to keep him here and never let him go.

“Fuck, hold on,” he hisses, suddenly gripping your wrist in frustration. And you relent. Though you aren’t happy about it. “I gotta go soon, doll.”

As much as you want him all to yourself, to explore this new territory he allowed you to have, there’s no way you can keep him from what he needs to do.

So you pull away, reveling in the angry, flushed appearance of his upper chest. You sincerely wish you tore off his shirt before everything started.

If you get the chance to continue…

Smirking again and wondering if he’s rubbing off on you, you airily joke, “That’s too bad.. Looks like you’ll have to wait for the rest.”

“What a tease.”

“Learned from the worst.”

You smile and he curves his mouth up in return. A squeak leaves you when he turns the tables with a flick of his hand, grabbing the back of your head to kiss your entire soul out.

Your eyes are still swirling when he pulls away, and you rise into a sitting position as he gets up with a laugh.

Grabbing a necklace from his nightstand, Yoongi looks at you taking up the middle of his mattress. But he doesn’t say anything before heading to his bathroom.

As soon as he’s inside, you expel all the air that you had been holding. All the pent up adrenaline that built while you were caught up in whatever just happened.

You want more of that. So, so much more of that.

And you also wanna stay in his bed, but you know that would be a little too much. Too domestic. So you scoot to the edge of his sheets and start to get ready for your own day.

As you reach for your phone, you gnaw on your bottom lip out of pure giddiness, thinking about when and how to continue what you both just started.

Until you see the onslaught of notifications on your lock screen.

jackson trash [12:30am]: open the door !!!

dpr doormat [12:30am]: biiiish r u home? u better b alive

bibi’s whore [12:34am]: we brought u stuff<33

Taeee😪[12:57am]: You at home?

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (3)

Taeee😪[1:30am]: Pick up!

Taeee😪[1:32am]: Where are you???

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (3)

Taeee😪[1:51am]: Bro pick up ur phone

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (2)

Taeee😪[2:50am]: You owe me :|

Stare burning into your screen, your jaw hits the floor as your shoulders push upward in fear. Immediately, you lock all the way up, your reaction whooshing out in a low, sharp,

“Oh, shit.”

“You good?”

Snapping your head up, you see Yoongi standing just outside his bathroom, scratching one of his elbows.

And you almost say that it’s nothing, that there isn’t anything wrong.

But then you remember the countless times he’s told you that you can tell him anything. And in your panicked state, you decide to take the plunge and finally give into his wishes.

“Well, uhh. No, actually. It’s my friends.” You look back down at your phone, gnawing your lip. “I’m a little worried.”

Yoongi crosses the room, rounding his bed while swiping a hoodie from his desk chair. “About?”

When he walks right up to you, all you can do is stare. Just for a bit. Because even minutes after waking up, he looks so handsome.

And looking at him is enough to calm you down.

But suddenly, he tosses his jacket onto the bed before bringing both hands forward, holding your hips and bringing you closer. “About what, doll?”

Fuck. Get yourself together, get your thoughts back in order. Clearing your throat, you let out the rest of your problems, hyper aware of the way his fingers rest on your sides, “They might think I’m dodging them. I said I couldn’t go out last night.”

Instead of pulling away, Yoongi simply leans in, latching velvety lips onto your neck and kissing your tension away. Small breaths leave your mouth before he mutters, “What did you say?”

“That I felt sick.”

Huffs of small laughter tickle your column. “Guess they didn’t buy that.”

You sigh as he keeps lapping at your throat, tilting your head to prolong not feeling so shitty. If it wasn’t for the hands gripping your sides—or the arms you clasp around his neck—you definitely would have collapsed to the ground by now. “Guess not... I wonder… if they tried the house.”

The moan you release spurns Yoongi to press your body back, and you feel the cool spackle of his wall instead of his door this time. As your back makes harder contact with the rough surface, you grunt into the kiss he plants on your lips.

You don’t know exactly why he’s all over you like this. Is it to distract you from worrying like you assumed? Is it because you’re finally doing what he’s been asking this whole time? Or is it because he wants to continue where you just left off because you sure as hell want that same exact thing. Anything else be damned right now.

If only it were that easy.

Yoongi’s voice still has a hint of sleep as he continues to question you, and you appreciate his willingness to help in any way. Especially since his way involves wrapping his arms further around you and resting them on your lower back. “You park inside, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How would they know you weren’t home then?”

“Maybe they knocked? I dunno...”

Yoongi pulls away. When his eyes roam your face, you wish you had some semblance of normalcy in your features instead of the sleepiness and stress you feel creasing your forehead. “You okay?”

“I… No. But. We can talk about it later. You gotta go.”

“Fuck, I do. But hey.” He gives you another kiss, as if he has all the time in the world. “Just tell me what you want. Okay?”

Your vision remains cloudy from the pillowy soft touch of his lips, and your words float off your tongue,

“What do you mean?”

You can tell that Yoongi doesn’t respond how he wants to, but he’s already backing up and heading out.

“I meant what I said.”

“Okay,” you call out to his back, and you watch him make his way through his apartment, looking at you one more time before clicking the entryway shut.

The rest of your day is slathered in anxiety and worry.

You manage to make it home without falling apart, though choosing to leave your stuff at Yoongi’s for just a bit longer.

To combat the impending calls you have to make, you breathe. Focus on quelling the storm in your stomach. Latch onto anything that grounds you.

The first thing you think about is being a kid again. How things were so simple, the only drama you encountered being playground fights. Then you think about other things, like memories and accomplishments and book quotes you’ve stored for safekeeping.

But slowly, the only thing that appears in your mind is a tidy apartment, with a kitchen filled with laughs and cold water all over the floors.

You can’t deny how at ease you feel when you’re in his place. Even when you were there alone, it was peaceful. It felt…

Clearly, you don’t want to let go of whatever feelings you have harbored in your chest. You want to make the most of them.

Before things have to reset.

Of course, the dark side of this week presented itself like a bright red spot on a blank canvas. Taehyung’s texts and calls could mean a thousand things, and the only thing that kept you from outright panic was him saying that you owed him.

Whatever happened was resolved. For now.

But nothing can stop you from feeling the guilt. The icky jitters in your stomach. The slight bit of shame from needing to tuck secrets away and wondering how to go about things.

What’s worse: knowing that it can’t ever be real with Yoongi unless something drastic changes. Which is why you can’t let yourself feel this way for much longer.

But the fact of the matter is that the two of you have barely started whatever this is. It’s not like you have a hold on him at all, even if he confirmed that he wasn’t seeing anyone else.

Maybe he operates differently now than he used to? You don’t know.

Whatever. Right now, you have to figure out how to get your friends off your back because things can get sticky real quick if they decide to snoop.

But first: call Taehyung.

It has to happen eventually. Even if you text him, you’d get an incoming call before your message even gets through.

So on the way to work, you brace yourself and do it, which turns out to be a loud mistake.

“You owe me big!”

“I know, Tae, I’m so sorry—”

“You know how hard I had to cover for you?”

“No… What happened?”

You hear him sigh before he questions,

“You told them you were sick, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you were just gonna stay home?”

“Yeah.”

“But you weren’t actually there, were you?”

You wince as you roll up to a red light.

“No.”

“Mm. Guess who had to lie and say you were at their place.”

Shutting your eyes in shame, you exhale. “I’m sorry.”

“Lemme finish. Guess who also had to weasel their way out of a videocall since people didn’t believe them.”

“Shit.” You feel so bad. He didn’t have to do all of that for you. “How the hell did you do that?”

“I’m not giving up my secrets to a sneak!”

“Tae!”

“Like I said: you owe me.”

Your building comes into view as you agree, “I do. I’m really sorry.”

“Just let me know next time so I’m more prepared, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“And you’re buying me lunch and dinner.”

“I will. Promise.”

There’s a big sigh on the line, and you bite your lip in anticipation. You know he’s not done with you yet.

But all Taehyung says is a soft handful of words, and your heart caves inward just a tad.

“We can handle your friends.”

“I know.”

“But it won’t be the same with him.”

You are fully aware of who he’s referring to. Because you already thought about the same exact thing.

As you park, you stare at your steering wheel but don’t quite look at it.

“I know.”

The only good thing about the mountain of worries you have to deal with?

They’re enough to dull your senses at work, and that’s saying something.

Somehow, you also request to take tomorrow off. And somehow, your request is accepted. Whether it’s the fact that you almost never ask off, or the wound-up way you look, you’ll take it.

After you make it back home, you carry your tired bones to your bed, flopping down and forcing yourself to clear your head as best as you can.

Fuck, you hate feeling this way.

You gotta fess up to your friends.

Of course, not everything. But you have got to tell them some of the truth so that their concern doesn’t dissolve into suspicion.

So you’ll confess a thing or two. You’ll just leave Yoongi’s name out of it.

After you take a nice, needed, absurdly long nap.

Taeee😪: Outgoing Call

“Come to grovel at my feet again? Or are you paying up?”

“Neither.”

“Oh. Bye then.”

“Wait!” You shift under your blankets, sitting up and hunching over. “I’m gonna tell them.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna tell them.”

“About him?”

“No, no. Not everything. Just… that I’m seeing someone.”

There’s a quick pause before Taehyung slowly questions,

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I feel queasy.”

“Ah. And that’s what we call a self-fulfilling prophecy, miss stomachache.”

“Shut up,” you groan. “But I just wanted to tell you first, since you worked so hard to cover for me.”

“Be my guest, babe. I just look like a ride or die. And you already agreed to get me food.”

“Okay.”

“Good luck.”

You hang up before looking at the threads you hastily apologized in earlier, wondering which one of them to call. Anyone would be a good choice. But anyone could also be a terrible one.

Ugh.

Your fingers flex and curl, and you start to play with your nails while lost in thought.

But you finally decide and click on the top message to fake fairness, turning to bury your head in your pillow and hide from possible horrible outcomes.

bibi’s whore: Outgoing Call

Your name immediately crunches through your receiver.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We were so worried!”

Lifting your head, you groan, “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“As long as you’re all good.”

“I am.”

“Okay, good. Tae told us—”

“He lied.”

“What?”

A swallow lodges in your throat. This is harder than you expected, but you keep pushing through. “He covered for me.”

“...The hell does that mean?”

Well. It’s now or never. Hopefully she will understand. Or yell at you. Ugh.

Sitting up, you confess to your phone screen, “I… I may or may not be seeing someone.”

A screech on the other line makes you jump, and you fight a wide grin of surprise.

“Bitch! I believed you and everything!”

Why were you so worried? Of course they would be elated. Your friends have been encouraging you to get around more anyway, so this reaction is one you should’ve expected.

The taboo of it being Yoongi just kept you from thinking anything positive would come out of this. If you weren’t so giddy you would be gritting your teeth in pure frustration.

Pleasant shock pumping through your veins, you cover your forehead. “I know, I’m sorry. I just froze!”

“I get it, I get it. Did you tell the others yet?”

“No, but don’t tell just anyone. Only you three can know. I’m just too tired to do this two more times.”

“Who is it? Do we know them? Is it J—”

“It is not him, but. This is all you get for now,” you lie while doused in a strange cocktail of relief and embarrassment, sticking with your earlier decision. You feel a lot better about this fib, since they’ll know part of the truth. “Just in case it falls through.”

“Mmm, that means the sex is fucking fire.”

“Reia!”

“What! I can hear it in your voice, babe. Shit, you might be in love.”

You scoff at your window, noticing that it’s way past sunset already. “As if.”

“But I get it. Sorry if we pressured you into spilling.”

“Are you kidding? I felt guilty the entire day. I love y’all too much.”

“Awhh… Don’t even worry about that. We’ve all been there. Yuri’s still sneaking around with that one guy even though she won’t admit it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And you know Dom and I are leaving our options open. Everyone’s got their own shit to deal with. So you do you.”

Sighing, you play with your comforter, noticing how it’ll never be as soft and comforting as Reia. You can’t believe you worried all damn day for virtually nothing.

This whole overthinking thing is starting to get terribly old.

Huffing, you don’t know how else to express your gratitude other than a sincere, “Thank you.”

“Of course! Are you seeing them again tonight?”

“…Maybe.”

A giggle punctures your phone.

“Just say yes, you sneaky bitch.”

“Yes.” You pause with a smile. “And yeah, it’s fucking fire.”

“I knew it! Is it the same guy from last year? Fuck you!”

“I’m not saying anything!”

“Gotta be. You didn’t say who that was, either.”

It’s true. While you told them about your mind-blowing encounter with Yoongi, you never disclosed a name. All they know is that you practically got your back blown out, and you won’t forget their shouts and praise and scoffs at your implied decision to keep it a one night stand.

If only they knew that decision wasn’t exactly yours.

“About time you got another proper dick down. Wait, it is a guy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Ha! That narrows it down.”

“Damn it.”

“I’ll find out eventually love you bye!”

“Bye,” you say through a grin, feeling multitudes lighter than you had in awhile.

Thank god. Or whoever or whatever’s out there. You owe them a drink.

Exhausted, you flop back onto your pillow with a whoosh.

Two calls is more than enough to drain your social battery, but you wanna make one more.

After all, you feel a hell of a lot better about seeing Yoongi again. The urge is so strong that you feel like calling him just because.

But when his phone rings a few times without an answer, you hang up and watch your ceiling, awake and cocooned in your blanket.

You can wait however long. Your mind is so much clearer now.

To your immediate surprise, Yoongi calls you back within minutes, voice wary after you greet him.

“You okay?”

You smile. Of course that’s his first concern. If you hadn’t confessed just a few moments ago, your answer would have been completely different. “Much better. But you’re busy so I can wait.”

“You sure?”

“Ah, yeah. I’ll just be in bed.”

“Yours or mine?”

…What did he just ask?

“Oh,” you stutter out. “I’m at home.”

But are you really? Where is home lately, if he isn’t there?

And why did you just ask yourself that?

“You threw away that key, huh.”

“No!”

“Liar.”

“I have your key! I just.. I dunno. Using it when you’re not there is weird. Still feels like I’m intruding.”

A laugh.

“Then give it up.”

“What?”

“Gimme the key back. I’ll come get it tonight.”

You can practically feel his stupid grin on the other line. There’s no way he’s serious, and yet you’re affected all the same.

“…Damn you, Yoongi.”

Another laugh puffs out of him before he keeps teasing,

“What?”

“You’re so… Ugh! Fine. I’ll keep it.”

“It’s all up to you.”

“Yeah? Then I’m going over there just to lock you out.”

More hissed laughter crackles through, and you nestle into your comforter with a curve of your mouth.

“God, I love it when you’re—”

“Yoong! Hurry up, man!”

Oh, shit. That was Jungkook. He sounds…

“Yoongi!”

“Yoongi! Come back!”

You freeze.

Those voices were definitely higher in pitch. Truthfully, they were more like whines than anything.

Interesting.

There’s a muffled “Yeah, one sec!” before the receiver gets uncovered again.

“Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll be back tonight.”

“Okay…”

“Am I gonna see you?”

Well. That’s even more interesting. Your question is timid before tiptoeing out. “…Do you want to?”

“Course I do.”

You already knew what your answer would be. After all, you had left all your stuff at his place, so of course you were gonna go back at some point. But after hearing what you just heard, you needed to be sure of Yoongi’s answer. You needed to be sure if you were staying.

Appearing as unbothered as you possibly could, you respond, “Okay. I’ll be there.”

“Thank fuck.”

Damn it. You can’t help but puff at the relief in his voice. “Such a guy.” Deciding to cake on more encouragement, you fight the dark emotion in your belly while continuing, “But don’t leave until you’re done!”

“K.”

He’s there to work. Right? Yes. He wouldn’t be trying shit.

…Right?

Mind in another frenzy, you whisper, “I believe in you. You’ll finish.”

“I dunno about that, but.. Thanks, doll.”

It’s later, when you rest in a bed that’s not yours, that you busy yourself with anything to distract you from rogue thoughts. Checking for emails from the job postings, flipping on Yoongi’s television, responding to the second text your brother sent asking if you were good. All of these are temporary buffers.

But they aren’t enough.

You think about calling your other friends, wondering how Yuri or Dom reacted to the news when Rea inevitably told them minutes after getting off the phone. But you don’t wanna deal with more of that, lest you have to make up another lie.

So you decide on the ultimate distraction, a way to time travel without lifting a finger: sleeping.

Because Yoongi doesn’t show for hours.

And hours.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep, but you know that something is pulling you out of your slumber. Something warm, and soft, and feeling like you’re coming home.

With a sharp inhale, you fling your eyes open to see that Yoongi’s kissing you awake, one of his hands cradling the back of your neck and his body warmth seeping into your side.

Is this a dream?

“Yoon—”

Your quick break is cut by another kiss, and you taste alcohol and citrus on his tongue before he pulls away.

“You gotta be my good luck charm or something.”

Eyes still adjusting to the dark of the room, you question, “Hmm?”

“We fucking finished.”

“Oh my god. Everything?”

Yoongi nods, his hoodie sweeping the top of your head as he leans in close.

One foot still in dreamland, you offer a smile of pride.

Holy crap, they did it. Whatever hard work they poured into that project paid off. You can already see it. “I knew you would,” you sigh, loving the way it feels surrounded by his strong embrace.

If only he didn’t smell like scents you know you can’t afford.

Remembering the voices you heard earlier, you crash back down to earth and end up six feet deep in worry.

Right. You wanted to distract yourself for a reason. You wanted to sleep away the anxiety for a reason. Because even though you and him don’t even have a solid label, you wanna know his stance. And Taehyung would tell you to figure that shit out right away, whether you’re keeping tabs on him or not.

“I dunno how,” Yoongi responds while you muster up enough courage to talk, “But you were right.”

“Naturally,” you whisper.

Say something.

Keep being brave enough to tell him what’s bothering you.

No overthinking this one.

As he leans in again for another kiss, you press a hand into his chest and take the first step. “Wait.”

Yoongi stops on a dime.

Unblinking and hoping his answer is one you can take, you sigh, “Can… Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

As you speak, you watch his eyes dart across your face in concern. “This is so stupid. But. I heard… people, on the phone. And I smell… perfume. I know we aren’t a thing, but. I don’t think I can do this if—”

You’re lucky that Yoongi cuts in before you can finish.

“Hey. Listen.” He sits up before telling you to follow suit. When you do, he looks toward his window, expression indiscernible as he watches moonlight seep through his blinds.

Breathing in, he lowers his head before looking at the hands resting in your lap. “I don’t do that shit anymore. If I’m seeing someone, that’s it.”

You let those words coat shoulders that drop with relief, wondering if he meant that in a general way or if—

“And even if I did…” Yoongi gazes into your eyes then, and you stare at his determined pupils hiding behind dark orange bangs. “I wouldn’t do that to you. K?”

Oh. There’s a hummingbird in your ribcage, its fluttering wings stealing all the words from your mouth.

You can only nod.

“And,” he says, straightening to prop up your chin. “It’s not stupid.”

Ah. The hummingbird now has friends. Many, many friends.

“If it helps,” Yoongi continues while fighting a guilty smile, “I kinda pissed’em off.”

“Huh?” Something like a half-laugh, half-scoff shoots out of your mouth. “What did you do?”

He aims a smug look your way before reminding you why people love to hate him.

“You ever been called your friend’s name before?”

Your jaw drops before you playfully nudge his shoulder with a gasp, and Yoongi grins with his nose scrunched. “Asshole!” His breathy laughs are unbothered by your affronted, droning, “Wow.”

“I know. But it works.” He winks before moving on to another, more favorable subject. “What time are you leaving in the morning?”

“Whenever you need me to. I took tomorrow off.”

“Then stay. I’m off, too.”

Excitement bubbles up to join the adrenaline in your veins. You were hoping that was the case ever since he said they were finished, but you weren’t positive. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Blinking, you wonder why you even asked in the first place.

But then you remember: as much as you want a whole day with him, you think back to seeing him at his desk. How he used even a sliver of his alone time to work on his own music. If he wants to do that instead, you don’t want to stop him.

However, you also don’t wanna catch him off-guard again by mentioning his private business. Maybe he even forgot that you could have heard his track. So instead, you joke,

“I dunno. Thought you’d be tired of me by now.”

Yoongi regards you with a smile of disbelief, like he knows that’s what you weren’t originally going to say. But he plays along.

“Not yet,” he teases. “Lemme shower.”

With running water serving as the background to your thoughts, you psych yourself up for everything that you want to do.

Whether this is something you can pull off or not, you aren’t exactly sure. But there’s no way to know unless you try. And you want to try very, very hard.

Because Yoongi damn well deserves it.

He’s been nothing but accommodating ever since the weekend started. From making you get work done, to reassuring your chaotic mind at every pass, he’s made an impression unlike no one has before.

And honestly, he’s been this way with you long before then.

So you want to be the one to please him this time. In a way that you never have for anyone else. It’s just daunting when you know you’re about to step out of your comfort zone.

But to hell with it. You wanna do this.

Getting up, you swipe one of the shirts Yoongi left on his chair, changing into it before taking everything else off. The soft but thick material drapes over your body, and you wonder if every single thing in this apartment is just made to be as comforting as its owner.

Maybe you should spend more time wearing his baggy clothes.

Never mind all that. Focus!

Inhaling, you start to visualize your plans. Plans that were put on hold ever since this morning. With all of your day’s worries and fears resolved, the fog in your brain dissipates, allowing you to finally picture what you really want.

Hopefully it’s what Yoongi really wants, too.

Light juts in front of your feet as the bathroom door swings open, and you stand in place as he notices, “Digging through my shit now, huh?”

“No,” you assure him, bones already vibrating with anticipation at the sight of his wet hair.

And fuck, is he still wearing jewelry?

Stop! Self-control. Patience.

“This was on your chair.”

“I don’t—”

Self-control and patience be damned.

Rushing forward, you catch Yoongi off guard with quick hands to his covered chest.

“What—”

Backing him up one two three steps, you shove him onto his bed, blood pulsing at the sight of his wide eyes.

Don’t stop, keep going. You can do this.

Heart skipping beats, you tug off his shirt before you can chicken out, and Yoongi groans when you reveal that it’s the only thing you had on.

And you almost catch the way his expression switches from desire to shock, but you mount him and dive right onto his neck before you can do so.

“Fuck!”

Something stronger than adrenaline comes over you then. Something dark, and primal, and absolutely divine. Breathing in the woody scent of his body wash, you lap at his column while your hands travel everywhere. You’re so focused on attacking him that you barely register the hands gripping your ass.

“Oh, fuck, doll,” Yoongi moans as you scratch down his chest, jerking his head back with a hard hiss when you pinch his nipple.

Enveloped by lust, you let instinct guide your actions, pushing up to nip his ear while clutching his throat. A suck here, a tug of his hair there. Pinching, whispering his name, squeezing your thighs—every single movement seems to break him down while lifting you up.

And you finally get the chance to tell him what’s about to happen.

“Lemme get a cond—”

“Uh uh.”

When he stills underneath you, your bare chest slides down his front as you explain,

“My turn.”

It’s simple. It’s concise.

But Yoongi is smart enough to get what you mean, and a rough hum rips from his core as he watches you slowly sink between his knees.

When you hit the floor, you realize.

It’s almost been a year since you’ve been in this position.

You want to show Yoongi what he had been missing.

But as your eyes shift up to see him already watching you, you’d like to think he already knows.

Propped up on his elbows, Yoongi leers down at your determination, wet locks still dripping water onto his smooth cheekbones. Underneath his shirt, you can see all the little tics of his pecs, his abs—tiny jolts in the aftermath of your storm.

As much as you want to keep playing with the upper half of him, you continue in your quest, mouth salivating when you slip his sweatpants down bit by agonizing bit.

God, how you want to be able to watch his reactions while you have him shoved down your throat. But you’ll make do with one pleasure at a time.

Starting with the cock that springs in front of your face.

Damn.

Impatient, you don’t waste time in taking his velvety girth in your palm, missing how it felt in your fingers and wanting it buried deep inside you for hours.

Fucking hell. Out of all the dicks you’ve held in your lifetime, his is undoubtedly your favorite. In fact, you vaguely remember being upset at its perfection, hating how every part of the one man out of reach has the power to destroy you.

You want that power, too: bringing Min Yoongi to his proverbial knees.

Well. You’re sure as hell gonna fucking try.

With one full, wet swipe along his length, you already see him thump back onto his mattress, hips flinching and fists gathering bunches of his sheet.

Pleased, you take his tip in your awaiting mouth, lifting your head mid-suck to tug on him more. Intentionally, you release him with a sound you’ve perfected by watching videos you will never disclose.

And it seems to resonate with Yoongi, for a dark laugh rumbles between sealed lips as a large hand palms the top of your head.

“You nasty girl.”

Licking around his tip while squeezing the base, you give him a teasing suck before releasing with another perfect pop. Sliding your fingers to gather your saliva, you coat the rest of him before lapping at his balls.

His control.

It’s slipping.

You can tell from the breathy laughs he puffs to the ceiling. A slew of incoherent words tumbles after, and you decide that you quite like him like this. Like he finally doesn’t know what to say.

Mirroring something you remember Yoongi torturing you with, you admit,

“You taste so fucking good.”

A deep hum is your only response, and you take that as a cue to keep going, tilting your head to swirl around his cock. Your own essence coats your cheeks as you feast, alternating between slurps and licks that travel along his veins.

From experience, you’ve learned how to judge reactions, how to tell what guys prefer or not. But all of those other times? You were never invested enough to truly care. If they never cared to pay attention to what you liked, then why bother?

But Yoongi cares. Sometimes, you wonder if he cares more than you do.

So you pay extra attention to how he reacts, and you make sure to understand enough to heighten his pleasure to its zenith.

Immediately, you pick up on the fact that he likes when you squeeze his sack. But also, it seems that he’s aroused by all the sounds you’re making in general.

You almost laugh. While you aren’t normally loud unless Yoongi wants you to be, this is where you won’t quiet down unless he stops you.

But you aren’t the only one filling the room with vulgar noises.

Beautiful hisses spring over your head, only to be joined by moans as you swallow more of his cock with each pass. He palms your scalp with a hand, trying his damned best to let you decide how much of him to take in.

So you give him permission, knowing he’d catch on to the taps you make on his thigh.

When your eyes travel up his body, you can see him lifting his head to watch, and he looks to you for one more nod of consent.

You pause your sucks to give him one, slathering your tongue around his shaft before taking him in again.

Yoongi’s groans are deep when he pushes your head down, and you feel your mouth stretch wide around his cock. When the tip knocks the back of your throat, you gag on instinct, expecting the moan that comes right after.

“Fuck, baby…”

You can go lower, so you let him push you down a little further, unfazed by the way your throat aches to accommodate his girth. Tears start to collect in your eyes, but you don’t mind those either, having done this many times before.

For Yoongi, you’ll deal. To hear the way he slurs your name, you’ll deal.

Your breath cuts at a certain point, but you sacrifice it to prove you can take him all in. And when your nose brushes his pelvis, Yoongi’s outright moan is already worth the gamble on your lungs.

Mercifully, you’re tugged all the way off his cock in a single motion, gasping for air as strings of saliva connect your mouth to his sex.

“You’re so fucking good at this. What the fuck.”

Mouth coated in spit, you nod with little shame, cunt pulsing at the satisfied groan that it gets in return.

Yoongi’s voice is filled with lust and gravel when he grits out, “God, I wanna fuck that throat.”

“Do it,” you rasp with lidded eyes, smirking at the way he looks at you with disbelief. Replicating what he had said to you before, you croak, “This is about you.”

“You sure, doll?”

Heart beating a bit quicker at his concern, you hum in confidence. Your fingers tap his thigh when you respond, “I’ve done it before.”

A strange look comes over Yoongi’s face then, and you don’t know why he sits all the way up to kiss you. But you and your throat welcome the short reprieve, and he breathes through his nostrils before pulling away.

Just like that, the look vanishes, replaced by shadows and desire and impatience.

“Then gimme that dirty mouth.”

Lost in his blown out eyes, you obey. But before he can even take over, you start a relentless pace, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks until they throb.

It’s enough to make him stutter in his movements, and a hand pulls you up before he chuckles, “Breathe first, babe.”

Blinking, you realize, “Oh, shit. Yeah.”

Seeing Yoongi’s full grin while in the midst of pleasure?

That has to be one of your favorite things.

“Okay,” you nod, only slightly embarrassed. “Ready.”

He only hisses out laughter while tilting his head back. “What are you doing to me…”

You don’t respond. Because you don’t know. But you wanna keep satisfying this man until he melts in your mouth, so you take his tip in to change the topic.

This time, you give Yoongi complete control of your head, noticing that he starts with slow but full strokes. As he groans, you mewl when his other hand skirts over one of your breasts, causing him to quicken his pace.

Concentrate. Loosen your throat. Breathe through your nose. All of these thoughts invade your mind as Yoongi thrusts in deeper and quicker, and your column bears the onslaught as tears roll down your cheeks in rivers.

The sounds you make are far from innocent, and they serve as the moving line over Yoongi’s constant reactions.

You don’t remember him being this vocal.

But you’re starting to understand why he likes pleasuring you so much.

It aches like hell, but you want nothing but to keep going. You’re okay. With a hand gripping his thigh, you slacken your aching jaw and revel in the waves of curses washing over your naked back. You almost traverse into another plane entirely, eyes slitted and strings of drool slipping from your lips.

Suddenly, you’re tugged up again, a long gasp escaping your numb mouth and eyes practically rolled back. Wheezing, you gulp in breaths like water, feeling air on the spit that accumulated on your chest.

Holy fuck, how drenched are you? You’re too dizzy to comprehend, let alone hear anything he’s saying.

A hand makes its way to your cheek, the veiny back caressing your sweaty skin all the way down to your sore jaw. When he cradles your lolling chin in his sweaty fingers, you slowly open your eyes to be pinned by a look so dark you would think he was possessed.

And you have never seen him look so hungry.

But you can’t mull over it for too long. Not because you feel thoroughly fucked out—though that contributes a good chunk of it—but because his wish shoots through you like lightning,

“Gonna come all over that pretty face.”

Fuck.

Even though you want that, too, it wasn’t the plan you had in mind.

Shaking your head, you move his hand away and give him a lopsided smile. “Not this time.”

Yoongi’s new expression is adorable, but you waste no time in clarifying—not without a slight hint of shyness,

“I want it somewhere else…”

Yoongi furrows his brows impossibly deep, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. “Where, baby girl.”

Lowering yourself back down, you answer,

“My mouth.”

“The fuck,” he groans, eyes shutting as you seize command again.

Your hands and mouth cover him completely—sucking, pumping, twisting. You feel him twitching with an impending explosion, and you rake your nails down one of his thighs before moving them right to his balls.

More curses shoot from his mouth as he arches his back higher than before, and you know he’s close before he even tells you.

With one last thought, you clutch his sack with one hand while reaching up to twist one of his nipples, wanting every bit of his pleasure to come from you and you alone.

And you moan around him when it works like a charm.

Nothing but your name rips from his throat as he spills into your mouth, hot and milky and distinguishable on your tongue. Spurt after spurt paints your cavern, and you love the way his cock twitches with each angry release.

It’s yours. All yours yours yours and you claim it with a possessiveness you will deny in the morning. Globs slide down your gullet, and you twirl your tongue to gather everything you missed.

Above you, Yoongi’s body locks, fists solid and creating taut mountain peaks out of his sheets. When you suck through his orgasm, a long, guttural moan is blocked by his closed lips, and he flexes his arms forward, feline and feral.

You already know you can never have Yoongi, no matter what.

But this Yoongi—flustered, out of control, and fucked out of his mind—is the Yoongi you want all to your fucking self.

Breathing hard and watching him come, you’re positive that he is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life.

Finally, with one last exhale, his high passes. And a realization floods your mind.

Holy fuck.

You just swallowed Yoongi’s cum.

Nothing but shaky breaths fill the room, and you take time to steady your pulse and relax your aching throat. Fuck, it’s gonna be sore. Damn, you’re lucky that you have tomorrow off because—

Something causes you to snap your gaze upward.

And any breaths you were going to take cease.

Because there have been many significant snapshots in your life, some of them only involving yourself, your friends, and more recently the very man in front of you.

But this moment? With you stripped bare and on your knees while he worships you from above?

Something in you clicks.

And clicks hard.

Yoongi’s voice has never been hoarser as he commands, “Open that goddamn mouth.”

You oblige, tongue out and all.

“Fuck.” He snags your chin with force, and the fervor with how he growls sends sparks along your skin,

“Come here. Get the fuck up.”

Bubbling with mirth, you rush to mount him as he hoists you by the arms, and you kiss him square on the lips with punished knees digging into his forgiving mattress. Fuck, the bends in your legs are sore. But you’ll live.

Yoongi seizes the back of your head and looks at you, clenching his fingers with words on the tip of his tongue. But he says nothing in the end, simply shaking his head and kissing you one more time.

Everything you wanted to happen happened.

And you’d like to think he enjoyed it just as much as you did, so you can now sleep peacef—

“Get up.”

“Huh?”

“Sit up.”

Confused, you wince at the sting in your legs as you’re situated in his bare lap. As your entrance rests right against his cock, both of you groan while most likely thinking the same thing.

“What are you doing,” you whisper, watching his complete look of satisfaction at how ragged your voice sounds. The pout you make only widens his smile.

Instead of responding verbally, Yoongi reaches behind his neck to unclasp one of his chains. And you don’t know where things are going until your heartbeat jumps ten paces.

Because he slips the silver necklace around your neck before taking off the heavier one, admiring the view when both of them rest against your slippery chest.

What…?

What is he doing?

This feels borderline intimate.

It’s enough to render you speechless, and you can only breathe as he runs his fingers along the links, the back of his hand brushing the side of your breast.

“They look much better on you.”

You still don’t know what the hell to say, feeling a lovely weight on your neck and an enchanting burden in your chest.

“Hey,” Yoongi whispers, lifting your chin. “You okay?”

“Oh. More than okay,” you admit. “I just…”

When you see him tilt his head and wait for your answer, you finally notice that you’re unbothered. Truly unbothered. About today, about your friends, about what you heard on the phone.

But more importantly, you’re unbothered about being naked in front of him. You aren’t thinking about how you look, or how he thinks you look. All you’ve been focused on this entire time has been him, and you haven’t had this much fun in the bedroom. Ever.

“I’m really happy right now,” you finally beam, and you want to bottle the feeling you have in your heart and shelve it for every rainy day you’ll ever live through.

Right next to the bottle that keeps the look in Yoongi’s eyes.

You yelp as he suddenly tugs on his chains to pull you forward, and your lips are captured in a way that has your toes curling.

Before you know it, you’re being lowered onto rumpled sheets, and a pair of fingers between your legs jolts you upwards. “Yoongi?”

“Who said we were done?”

“But this was about you,” you gasp as you feel his fingers slide up your dripping folds with more pressure.

“I know. This is still for me.”

What the hell? You were already set on not receiving anything tonight. If anything, you could take care of yourself after he passed out. So what’s he doing? Why is he saying this is for him? “How?”

“I love seeing you like this.”

You can only blink. “...Really?”

“Yeah. And I love seeing you come.”

“You do?“

Yoongi’s gaze lands on the jewelry resting on your chest. “So fucking much.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster, lust coming back with a vengeance and twisting your core.

And you wait until his eyes travel upwards, slowly but surely, until they connect with yours. “Let’s see how many times you got, dirty girl.”

Oh, fuck.

“Yoongi…”

He shifts to sit up, ordering you to change positions as he slips his sweatpants back on. “Slide up here for me.”

Obeying, you wince at the discomfort in your knees as you make your way to the head of his mattress.

Yoongi joins you immediately, his warmth pressing deliciously into your side. With a flick of his chin, he continues, “Hands under the headboard. Uh huh.”

Well. You didn’t expect this. And you’re ten times more excited for what’s in store for you, especially since Yoongi decided to keep all of his clothes on. The pretty tension has you thrumming with heat and nerves.

Instead of going between your legs, he starts with fingers to your mouth. “Open up one more time, doll.”

You gladly take two of his digits in like you were built for it, slathering your tongue all over them and humming at the quick curse at your ear.

“So filthy,” he chuckles through a smile. As he slides his fingers out, he rubs them over your lips before clutching your chin. “I fucking love it.”

You bite your lip before you can help it, knowing you won’t be prepared for anything he’s going to do to you.

And you quickly learn how right you are.

Yoongi seizes complete command of your body, fingering you at the perfect pace while latching lips onto your neck. Both movements cause you to tense up, your palms pressing into the bottom of his headboard and your back arching.

Shit, it already feels so good and it’s only been seconds!

Your legs are forced more open before Yoongi dips his digits in again, sliding up your drenched walls and laughing derisively at your throat.

“Sucking me off got you this wet, huh?”

Whimpering, you can only nod, shifting your hips to feel more of the friction he’s giving. You don’t know how aroused he looks as he watches your bouncing chest, but you do hear what he whispers. Because it emblazons itself on your neck.

“What a whore.”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whine, thoroughly turned on and shuddering at the way his laughs slide down your column. Shameful, you admit to yourself that you can listen to him talk like that for hours.

When he suddenly slaps your cunt, you lose it, feeling the strain in your body as a moan tries to escape your clenched teeth.

Holy fuck, how are you already this close? Did you really attain this amount of arousal just by giving him head? You knew you were outright delighted but damn, his fingers see no resistance at all.

The silver around your neck slides a little towards your collarbone. As you wonder why he decided to don you with his chains, Yoongi takes advantage and leans down, latching lips onto one of your nipples and pulling a moan from your throat.

“Oh, my god.”

You want to throw your hands around his neck. Dig your fingers in his angry locks. But the way your hands grip the headboard, you’re too afraid to let go. They feel permanently welded, and you can only tighten them as you thrash underneath him.

He fucking knows it, too, taking his time to lick around your breast before nicking again. And with so many sparks filling your body to the brim, you already see the edge. It’s so close close close and you’re trying to get the right words out to tell him.

He has the audacity to laugh, staccato puffs in your ear. “I feel you sucking me in. You can’t hide, baby girl.”

“Fuck,” you gasp, knowing he’s completely right. But you can’t help it. Your body wants every inch of his and the friction is feeding the thrums in your core.

Yoongi suddenly grabs the back of your neck, holding you in place and causing your jaw to slacken.

“Whose pussy is this?”

What the fuck! You didn’t expect that. And you know how you want to answer, but your words come out ridiculously slurred from lust.

“What was that?”

“Yours! Oh, fuck…”

“Mmhmm.” With one final stroke, he agrees, “All mine.”

Pure light wipes your vision as you come, groaning through your lips as your body snaps into place. Your arms are taut, straining as you squeeze his headboard like a lifeline. Over and over and over, your cunt clenches around Yoongi’s fingers, and he hums above you, long and rough.

It doesn’t matter that you end up a panting mess, nor does it matter that your legs are yelling to be closed. Because he’s already keeping an agonizing pace on your throbbing walls without reprieve.

“Yoongi!”

“You wanna be a cumslut so bad? Prove it.”

“Fuck—”

“Taking my dick and my fingers so well.” He slaps your cunt again, and the squelch it makes will embarrass you even days later. “Still such a whore for me.”

Fuck!

You don’t know why the hell that turns you on, but it does. Goddamn, it does, and he knows how much it affects you by the way you milk his fingers despite already coming.

He laughs even deeper this time, and it sends shivers down your chest all the way to your toes. Watching the way you writhe beneath him, he goads, “That’s it, doll. Fuck, I love seeing you in my shit.”

“Yoong—”

“Almost wanna show you off.”

Damn, you want that, too. Holy shit, you want the same thing, and just imagining that being a possibility gets you frighteningly close to another edge.

And you need the plunge. No one will take that away from you. Even him. If he edges you even once, you’ll finish your goddamn self.

“Yoongi, I’m close.”

“Then come for me, love.”

Your coil snaps again, harder than the last and making you a shuddering mess. Later, you’ll think about what he said, but your mind is completely void for now. Tears start leaking out of your ducts from the onslaught of pleasure wracking your bones, and you let out a quick sob from feeling so overwhelmed.

Yoongi’s saying things in your ear again, but you really can’t discern them. Praises, insults, anything in between—you don’t know. All you know is that your brain is exploding with lust and satisfaction and you don’t know when the high will ever subside.

But, after an eternity and a half, you start to float back onto soft, damp sheets. Your muscles relax bit by bit, and the fingers above your head unlatch from the dark wood of his headboard.

Fuck. Your hands hurt. But you slowly close them to combat the strain.

With your eyes slipped shut, you’re surprised to feel Yoongi’s lips on yours, inhaling shock through your nose at the second stolen kiss of the night. Instead of your palms, you reach to place your wrists on his shoulders, twisting your body to press fully into his front.

His heartbeat…

It might be quicker than yours.

Softly, one of your hands is cradled in his fingers before your palm is rubbed with care. One circle, then another, and another. Voice so deep that it’s more of a rumble than a sentence, Yoongi asks, “Do they hurt?”

“A little,” you admit. “But you’re helping.”

“Okay.”

You don’t know what time it is, but you don’t exactly care. It could be any hour of any day and you would still banish the rest of the world from your mind. Because it only exists in this moment. With him massaging your hand while carrying tiny moons in his eyes.

He’s ethereal.

“You don’t have to stay tomorrow.”

Blinking hard, you struggle to comprehend what Yoongi just said.

What? What did he mean by that?

Your heart rushes up your bruised throat before you squeak out, “Why not?”

Yoongi kisses your forehead. “Your friends on your case. Spend time with them. Don’t worry just cus of me.”

Oh. He doesn’t know that you took care of that.

Why does he have to be so considerate? This doesn’t make things easy.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, reaching with your free hand to cradle his cheek. “I was gonna see them… But after this week, since…”

He just watches you.

“Things’ll go back to normal.”

Yoongi darts his eyes across your face, silent. When he only nods, a piece of you breaks, but you try your hardest not to let him see it.

There won’t be time for walks, or water fights, or waking up to his arm around your waist. Because this week reserved a pocket universe in time—a space just for the two of you to have. And it’s one you truly don’t ever want to leave.

From the way that Yoongi claims your lips, you want to think he feels the same. It’s at least nice to keep pretending.

But you know he’s doing it to make you feel better, though it devastates you all the same.

Because a week is quickly not becoming enough. You want more time. You need it.

Yoongi stops with a breath, and runs a hand along the side of your head.

“Get some rest, doll.”

“You, too.”

“I will,” he whispers. “And listen. About tomorrow.”

“Hmm?”

He stares at you just a bit longer, caressing your cheek and keeping his mouth shut.

It’s strange. You’ve only been able to read him a few times before. But now, you’re sure that you see a thousand thoughts run across his eyes, and they remind you of meteor showers you used to watch outside when you were young. When life wasn’t complicated. When the furthest thing from your mind was a broken heart.

But at his next words, your heart swells.

And you don’t need to worry about it breaking just yet.

“I’m all yours.”

…Maybe Reia was right.

tbc. :)

A/N: ahhh. so. how did it go? LOL i feel like it’s been so long since Stay, but it’s only been two-ish months. whoa! also.. typing with acrylics should be an olympic sport and if you do this regularly you have my utmost respect LOLL that shit was so hard while writing a majority of this chapter! A/N 2: as always, thank you so much for all of the support. whether you’re new, or an OG, i truly appreciate you being here and going on this journey with me and the 3tan crew. and for the people wanting angst, welp. here’s a glimpse of what that entails dkldkjdjf see you all in “the week, pt. 2!” ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

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