#top myg

[themininthemoon]

If Our Hands Touched

ONE SHOT | AO3

 12,925 words

Min Yoongi/Park Jimin | FtM Park Jimin | Surrogacy | A/B/O | Mpreg | Vaginal Sex | Top MYG/ BTM PJM | Somnophillia | Mild Angst | Fluff | Smut

Jimin’s smile widens, eyes crinkling up at the corners. He unfurls before Yoongi’s eyes, the protective way he’d been holding himself opening up and becoming more receptive.

“Hello, Min Yoongi.”

They smile at each other.

Yoongi feels silly, heart beating hard in his chest.

“You’re beautiful,” he says the words before his lips can catch them, immediate regret creasing his forehead. He bows his head, waiting for the sound of Jimin leaving the meeting room—it wouldn’t be the first time Yoongi’s run a potential surrogate off, though last time it certainly wasn’t with sweet words—but it doesn’t come.

He looks up to find Jimin smiling at him, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Well, thank you, Min Yoongi, I’m glad I passed the first part of the interview at least.”

The omega they pair him with is pretty, but guarded, holding themself stiff on their side of the booth. Their arms are crossed tight over their chest, gaze down on the table between them. They have a warm, citrusy scent that compliments Yoongi’s own woody bergamot. He wonders if it’s on purpose before deciding it’s a coincidence—so little about this process has been left up to chance, Yoongi likes the idea of this small happenstance. The omegas hair is cut short, but that’s not really enough to tell Yoongi their gender just by looking.

The omega is very pretty.

“What are your pronouns?” Yoongi asks, leaning forward in his seat with his hands clasped together on the tabletop between them.

The omega smiles and that is pretty too.

“He/him,” the omega says with a voice like bells chiming, sweet and warm. It matches his smile. “My name is Jimin.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi repeats, tasting the syllables. “I’m Min Yoongi; he/him too.”

Jimin’s smile widens, eyes crinkling up at the corners. He unfurls before Yoongi’s eyes, the protective way he’d been holding himself opening up and becoming more receptive.

“Hello, Min Yoongi.”

They smile at each other.

Yoongi feels silly, heart beating hard in his chest.

“You’re beautiful,” he says the words before his lips can catch them, immediate regret creasing his forehead. He bows his head, waiting for the sound of Jimin leaving the meeting room—it wouldn’t be the first time Yoongi’s run a potential surrogate off, though last time it certainly wasn’t with sweet words—but it doesn’t come.

He looks up to find Jimin smiling at him, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Well, thank you, Min Yoongi, I’m glad I passed the first part of the interview at least.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi apologizes, sincere. “I’m usually much better at being professional.”

“That’s okay,” Jimin reassures him. “This isn’t a wholly professional decision. I think… it’s quite emotional, really. Was your partner unable to come with you today?”

Yoongi looks at the empty space beside himself in surprise, blinking. He looks back up at Jimin and laughs quietly, shaking his head.

“I don’t have a partner,” he says.

Jimin hides his surprise well, but Yoongi knows he must be feeling it.

The last two surrogates had heard he was alone and ended the meetings, apologetic.

Jimin doesn’t move. He has a curious little smile on his face, head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

“You’ve just decided that fatherhood is for you?”

Yoongi shrugs then he nods, firmly, like he means it.

“I did.”

“And you don’t want to wait to find a partner to have a child with?”

Yoongi purses his lips against his discomfort with this line of questioning, knowing that the power here is in Jimin’s hands—Yoongi may get his pick of omegas, but the omega has to agree too.

“No. I—” Yoongi licks his lips. “I had a partner for six years. We parted ways due to differences in opinion about children—he asked me to wait, so I waited. And waited. And then one day, finally, he said that he didn’t want children at all,” Yoongi laces his fingers together on the tabletop. “That was the end of things.”

Jimin looks sad.

Yoongi wonders what he’s thinking.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” is what Jimin says. Yoongi braces for rejection. “I’d like to meet again, if you agree to it, so we can talk a bit more about your plans and how this will work.”

Yoongi perks up, sitting straight in his seat.

“I would like that,” he says.

Jimin smiles. He stands and bows his head.

“It was nice to meet you, Alpha Min. I hope to see you again soon.”

Yoongi stands quickly, bowing his head in turn.

“And you, Omega Park. Thank you for your consideration.”

Jimin smiles.

He leaves.

*

Jimin goes to his next introductory meeting with a warmth in his belly, smiling sweetly at the couple waiting for him in the next room.

They’re very nice, stable.

“We’ve been trying for years,” the omega says tearfully, hand clasped between their mate’s.

Jimin nods his head, swallowing hard, hands on his stomach. The alpha hasn’t stopped looking him up and down since they introduced themselves, but Jimin has learned this is normal.

They’re kind and Jimin feels for them, but he can’t stop thinking of Yoongi.

The next couple he meets too, are warm and kind and desperately searching for help, but Jimin thinks of the lone alpha who just wants to be a dad and he smiles and tells them it was nice to meet them without mentioning meeting again.

He thinks about Yoongi for the rest of the day, his hands, his voice, his sincerity.

Jimin bites his lip, shaking the thoughts away.

“Drink up!” Taehyung calls over the din of the bar. “Once you’re carrying there won’t be anymore soju for you!”

Jimin rolls his eyes and laughs, tapping his glass to Taehyung’s before taking a sip.

“That assumes some couple is going to choose me to carry their pup,” he says.

“Of course they will!” Taehyung enthuses. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Look at you.”

Jimin flushes and punches Taehyung in the shoulder.

“What about you?” Taehyung asks. “Did you meet any couples with potential today?”

“Mm, no,” Jimin says. Taehyung deflates. “I met an alpha though.”

Taehyung perks back up.

“No shit, is he cute?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, taking another drink.

“At the center, you goof, not like. For me.”

“Oh. Well, is he cute?” Taehyung repeats.

Jimin thinks about Yoongi, his hands, his voice, his sincerity.

He blushes, cheeks going warm.

“Yes.”

“Ooh, you like him,” Taehyung says, eyebrows high.

“No!” Jimin exclaims.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Taehyung quotes.

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“I don’t like him. I just think he has potential.”

Taehyung looks skeptical, but doesn’t push.

“What’s his story?” He asks. “Why’s he trying to do it alone?”

Jimin wets his lips. He shrugs.

“He said he had a partner for many years who lied about wanting children.”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide.

“No shit? That sucks.”

“Yeah. Six years.”

“Six?!”

Jimin nods and Taehyung whistles.

“That’s a hell of a thing to lie about, especially for so long.”

“Right?” Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not very fair.”

“I guess I see why he’s decided to just get it done himself then if he waited that long for nothing.”

“Yeah,” Jimin murmurs, looking down into his drink. He sighs. “I think I want to do this for him.”

“That fast? You talked, what? Five minutes?”

“Yeah, I know. I just—” Jimin presses his lips together. He shrugs. “There’s something about him.”

“You like him,” Taehyung cautions, no more levity in his voice.

“I don’t,” Jimin insists, shaking his head. “I barely know him.”

“But you want to give him a baby.”

“Well, isn’t that what this whole surrogacy thing is about?”

Taehyung sighs.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Jimin. It’s difficult enough to have a baby and give it up, but if you develop feelings for the sire…”

“I’m not developing feelings for anyone,” Jimin huffs, knocking back his drink. “And you’re the one that convinced me surrogacy would be a good fit.”

“I know,” Taehyung frowns. He taps his fingertips on the bartop. “I’m not sure if I regret that yet.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. He gestures for another round.

*

“So… '' Yoongi drags the word out, hands in his pockets. They’re walking through the gardens on the clinic grounds, coat collars turned up against the wind. He clears his throat, looking at Jimin. “What do you like to do, Jimin?”

“I dance,” Jimin says, smiling a little. His hands are tucked in the turns of his elbows. “And I like to read and I play video games sometimes. I’m not very good,” he laughs quietly. “But it’s fun. I spend a lot of time with my friends,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I’m pretty boring.”

There’s a little smile on Yoongi’s face, teeth peeking out from behind his lips, eyes soft.

“I don’t think you’re boring,” he says and Jimin has to look away.

“What about you, Yoongi? What do you like to do?” Jimin asks after a beat, turning back to find Yoongi’s eyes and getting only the side of his face.

Yoongi pauses, thinking before he answers.

“I… write,” he says at length. “And I like to read, listen to music, watch films, that kind of thing. I play piano pretty well.”

Jimin’s eyes brighten. He straightens, smiling.

“You play piano? I love the piano! I never got to learn because I was so obsessed with dance, but I’ve always loved a good accompanist.”

Yoongi chuckles, low.

The warm sound travels through the cold air and sends a shiver down Jimin’s spine. He swallows hard, head down. His chapped cheeks are suddenly very warm.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi hums thoughtfully.

“Mostly rap,” he says, easy.

Jimin blinks in surprise and Yoongi catches it, smirking something sly in the corner of his mouth.

“You didn’t expect that, huh?”

Jimin huffs a laugh. He shakes his head.

“No,” he admits.

Yoongi knocks their shoulders together, a friendly gesture.

“What about you?”

Jimin blows into his cold hands before he answers. He shrugs.

“I like a lot of r&b and jazz, hip-hop, classical, the gamut, really.”

“Really?” Yoongi nods appreciatively. “What’s your favourite song right now?”

“Heize – We Don’t Talk Together,” Jimin says immediately.

Yoongi’s steps stutter.

“You don’t like it?” Jimin asks, eyes wide, curious.

He’s stopped to look back at Yoongi. Yoongi shakes his head.

“No!” Yoongi clears his throat. “No, I do, sorry, something must have tripped me.”

“Oh,” Jimin frowns, looking down at the walking path for something that could have done so. He sees nothing and shrugs. “You should be careful.”

Yoongi nods. “Of course, yeah.”

They continue walking.

“Well, what about you?” Jimin asks after a moment.

“Hm?”

“You’re favourite song right now,” Jimin prompts.

“Oh!” Yoongi nods. “It’s always ‘Big Poppa’.”

Jimin laughs.

“What?” Yoongi asks, a smile playing on his lips.

Jimin shakes his head, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just– ‘Big Poppa’?”

It takes a moment for the words to click but when they do Yoongi throws his head back and laughs.

Their shoulders brush.

Jimin tucks his hands back into his elbows, arms crossed.

“What made you decide to be a surrogate, Jimin?” Yoongi asks after a comfortable silence.

“Oh, I— my friend convinced me, actually.” Jimin licks his lips. “I’ll be honest… it’s not a very altruistic reason, but…” Jimin sighs. He shrugs. “I lost my job and had to use all my savings to keep a roof over my head so…”

“The money,” Yoongi nods.

Jimin shrinks a little, but Yoongi smiles at him.

“Hey, no judgment here. I just hope you’ve really thought it through?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jimin nods. “You know there’s mandated therapy before they let you be a surrogate here.”

“I did know that,” Yoongi says, smiling a little to take the sting out. “But still, it’s not an easy thing.”

“No,” Jimin agrees. “But I think… being able to do this for someone else is kind of special.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says and Jimin looks at him.

He remembers that Yoongi’s here for the same reasons as all the other couples he’s met in the past few weeks.

“Yoongi,” Jimin starts softly. He waits for Yoongi to meet his eyes before he goes on. “You’re really very serious about this baby, right?”

Yoongi blinks. He straightens.

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

Jimin nods once, firmly.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I think we should talk a bit more, but…” Jimin takes a deep breath. He squares his shoulders. “I want to do this for you.”

Yoongi stares, mouth agape.

“You’re serious?” he demands.

Jimin nods again, firmly. He refuses to acknowledge the twinge of nerves, the alarm bells ringing in the back of his head telling him this is a bad idea.

“I’m serious.”

Yoongi rushes him, startling a squeak out of Jimin when he’s lifted off his feet, Yoongi’s arms tight around his middle.

Yoongi’s nose is pressed to Jimin’s collarbone and he takes a deep breath of Jimin’s warm, citrusy scent.

“Thank you,” he breathes, breath hot and damp against the peek of skin where Jimin’s shirt collar falls open.

He sets Jimin back on his feet, moving his hands to Jimin’s shoulders.

They look each other in the eye and Jimin is moved to see tears in Yoongi’s lashes.

“Thank you,” the alpha says again.

Jimin smiles, blinking away tears of his own. He wipes at his cheeks.

“You made me cry,” he sniffles, flapping a hand Yoongi’s way. “Stop it.”

Yoongi laughs.

*

“I feel like this might be a bad idea,” Taehyung says again.

Jimin huffs.

“It’s not a bad idea,” he says, tugging a beanie on over his blonde hair. “It’s a good and selfless idea—”

“—that you’re getting paid for.”

“… Yeah,” Jimin glares over at Taehyung. “Need I remind you again that this was your idea?”

Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest.

“Please, don’t.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“I don’t get why you’re so set against this suddenly.”

“I’m not suddenly against anything, but you agreeing to give a baby to an alpha you clearly like when the whole thing about surrogacy is needing to remain professional and unattached.”

“I am professional!” Jimin protests. “And unattached!”

“You’re wearing lipgloss,”

Jimin presses his shining lips together.

“So.”

Taehyung throws his arms up in the air and storms down the hallway toward his room.

Jimin rolls his eyes at the dramatic display and finishes bundling up for the cold to come. He slides on his shoes and calls a “Goodbye!” down the hall before stepping out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

Yoongi is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs with a to go cup of hot chocolate, dark hair pushed back from his forehead. He’s wearing black glasses and a black peacoat, black turtleneck underneath with black slacks and black loafers and Jimin has to pause and take a breath before he smiles and says his hellos and thank yous as he takes the proffered cup of hot cocoa from Yoongi’s hand.

“Thank you for picking me up,” Jimin says quietly.

Yoongi shrugs.

“It’s on my way,” he says.

“Still,” Jimin smiles. “Thank you. It’ll be nice to have company on the walk.”

“Of course,” Yoongi smiles, eyes darting briefly to meet Jimin’s before turning back to the path ahead. “It must have been boring before.”

“A little,” Jimin agrees. He takes a sip of his cocoa, relishing in its rich warmth. “My roommate comes with me sometimes, but he’s really busy with work these days.”

“You’ve mentioned him before,” Yoongi murmurs, “Taehyung, right?”

JImin nods.

“He sounds like a good friend.”

“The best,” Jimin agrees, smiling. “We’ve known each other since we were kids—he’s my soulmate.”

Jimin isn’t sure what the face Yoongi makes means, but he shoves down on the urge to clarify that he means that as platonically as he possibly can. That’s not really Yoongi’s concern.

“And he’s the one who suggested you be a surrogate?” Yoongi asks after a lengthy pause where they drank their drinks in silence.

Jimin nods, meek. He holds his hot chocolate in both hands.

“Yeah.”

Yoongi nods.

A long silence.

“I guess you should thank him for me,” Yoongi says, cracking half a smile.

Jimin huffs a laugh, looking down at the sidewalk ahead of them.

“Can do.”

They walk quietly for a while, letting the sudden awkwardness dissipate into the cold winter air.

Yoongi clears his throat.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks.

“Yes!” Jimin straightens. “I did, yes, thank you for asking. Did you?”

Yoongi nods then shrugs his shoulders, making a face.

“I don’t sleep much.” He says.

“That’s no good,” Jimin frowns. “You’ve gotta get as much sleep as possible before your baby is here.”

“Is that right? Isn’t it a strength to be practiced at sleeplessness?”

“No,” Jimin says stubbornly.

Yoongi chuckles.

“Okay, I’ll try to sleep more then.”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Yoongi laughs, running a hand through his hair. He looks away from Jimin, shaking his head with an amused turn to his lips. He mutters something under his breath that Jimin doesn’t ask him to repeat, afraid he heard that “He’s cute” correctly.

It’s their fifth meeting.

They get to speak to a nurse from the clinic today.

*

“Alright, we’ve got all the important blood work and paperwork done. Checkups: done. Home check: done. You’ve both been approved by psych and of course the compatibility team. Everything looks good,” the nurse smiles at them where they sit on opposite sides of one of the small tables in the meeting rooms, her at the end. “I just have a couple questions to go over and a few things for you to sign and then you’ll be,” she beams, smile moving from Jimin to land brightly on Yoongi. “Ready for your baby.”

Yoongi’s heart skips a beat, smiling at her with his whole face, teeth and gums on display. He turns his smile on Jimin and reaches across the table to lay a hand on top of Jimin’s where they’re folded together on the tabletop.

“Thank you,” he says.

Jimin smiles back, cheeks a pretty pink.

“I’m glad I can do this for you,” he says softly.

The nurse clears her throat quietly and Yoongi takes his hand back, tucking it close to his body, suddenly self conscious. He turns his attention back to her, wanting to make sure he hears everything he needs to.

She smiles understandingly.

“Now, first things first,” she’s holding a clipboard up, pen at the ready. She’s not looking at him. “What was your preferred insemination method?”

“Natural,” Yoongi blurts without thinking. He has to physically restrain himself from facepalming, gritting his teeth to keep his expression neutral and not look Jimin’s way. That was not what he’d decided before. “That is… if Jimin is comfortable with that. I am also open to artificial insemination.”

“Um,” Jimin is pink, looking down at the tabletop with his hands splayed in front of him. “I think I would prefer trying artificial insemination… first.”

“Of course,” Yoongi nods immediately, waving his hands like he can brush the word ‘natural’ from the air. “Whatever you’re most comfortable with, Jimin.”

The nurse nods, making a note on her clipboard.

“Excellent!” She chirps. “We usually recommend the natural method as a last resort for the comfort of our omega patients, but some do choose to go with that from the get-go. If you change your mind you can do so up to forty-eight hours before your insemination appointment.”

Yoongi nods, smile an awkward line across his lips.

Jimin’s head is still down, eyes on his hands.

Yoongi closes his eyes and breathes out slowly through his nose.

He fucked up.

He goes through the rest of the paperwork mechanically, mind on Jimin and making sure he isn’t uncomfortable, but there doesn’t ever seem to be a right time to reassure the omega. He’ll have to wait until the paperwork is done and the nurse leaves.

Yoongi sighs quietly. He initials on the dotted lines.

As soon as the nurse leaves Jimin moves to stand.

“Jimin, wait,” Yoongi calls, quiet but firm.

Jimin stills, turning to face Yoongi. His cheeks immediately go pink again, eyes down instead of meeting Yoongi’s gaze.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi sighs softly and Jimin’s scent blooms in the small room. Yoongi swallows hard. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable earlier. We should have discussed insemination beforehand so there wouldn’t be any surprises.”

“It’s okay!” Jimin says. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. It just surprised me.”

Yoongi presses his lips together but decides not to press.

“Okay,” he nods, breathing in Jimin’s soft, citrus scent. It curls around him and Yoongi struggles to keep his own scent close to the skin. He swallows hard again, throat bobbing. “That’s good.”

Jimin nods back, reaching for his bag.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says.

“Next week,” Yoongi agrees.

Jimin smiles.

“Goodbye, Yoongi.”

*

Jimin is inseminated for the first time on a Wednesday.

It feels strange.

They ask him to disrobe and he does, changing into the provided hospital gown and climbing onto the cold exam table, paper covering crinkling as he lays back.

There are stirrups at the end of the exam table. Jimin chews nervously on his bottom lip. Seeing those doesn’t usually foretell a pleasant time.

He sighs, laying his head back. He closes his eyes, tapping his fingers on his stomach as he waits.

It’s a few minutes before the doctor comes in, smiling.

“Jimin, it’s nice to see you again. Are you excited?”

Jimin laughs quietly.

“Nervous,” he corrects, smiling a little.

“Whatever for?”

Jimin eyes the stirrups and the doctor laughs, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry about those, just helps make things easier for us to get this handled quickly and efficiently.”

Jimin nods, but the nerves remain, jumping in his belly.

“We’re just waiting on the sample,” the doctor smiles, nodding toward the door.

Jimin’s breath catches, swallowing hard. Suddenly he’s thinking of Yoongi squirreled away in a bathroom somewhere nearby with his hand on his shaft, jacking off into a vial.

Jimin closes his eyes, cheeks warm.

 Don’t get wet.

He thinks, desperately, of baseball facts his stepfather tried to teach him when he was young and wonders what Yoongi’s thinking about, if he’s thinking about—

Jimin shakes his head hard.

“Jimin? Are you okay?” the doctor asks, concerned.

“Yes!” Jimin squeaks, embarrassed. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“Are you sure?” her brow is furrowed, standing to look down at Jimin in concern.

Jimin closes his eyes in mortification and nods.

The doctor hmms but lets him be, sitting back down in her chair.

A moment later a nurse comes in with the sample and Jimin’s cheeks flush again. He stares up at the ceiling.

“Alright Jimin, are you ready?” the doctor asks with a smile.

Jimin swallows hard and nods. He puts his feet in the stirrups as directed, holding his legs open wide.

The doctor inserts a small syringe into his vagina and Jimin feels it against his cervix. She presses down on the plunger and Jimin feels the rapidly cooling semen deep inside him. She removes the syringe and snaps off her gloves, tossing them into the small trash can beside the door.

“And you’re all done!” she chirps.

Jimin moves to take his legs from the stirrups but she stops him.

“Woah, just a second. We’re gonna keep you on your back like this for about fifteen minutes just to make sure the semen gets a chance to move from the cervix and into the uterus.”

“Oh,” Jimin blinks, placing his foot back in its place. “Okay.”

He lays back, fingers laced over his stomach, and waits.

*

The sixth time his period comes right on schedule, Jimin cries.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, sitting on the toilet at work, phone cradled to his ear. His uniform pants are around his ankles, underwear stopped at his knees. There’s a tampon fisted in his hand. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Yoongi assures him like every other time. “Aren’t you working?”

Jimin looks around the grubby bathroom stall and nods without thinking.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment of silence.

“Do you want me to come get you?”

Jimin’s face crumples.

“My shift just started,” he whispers, struggling to keep the tears at bay.

“Jimin—”

“I’ll be fine. I just wanted to let you know,” Jimin says quickly.

A sniffle betrays him.

The bathroom door creaks open and there’s a loud sigh. The person bangs on the bathroom stall door.

“Hurry up, Jimin,” his coworker, Hyungsik, says, annoyed already.

“I am working on it,” Jimin hisses. 

“Work faster.”  

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“I have to go,” he whispers into the phone.

“Okay,” Yoongi says, clipped.

Jimin frowns, ready to cry again. He hangs up and does his business, shoving past Hyungsik as he leaves the stall. He groans when he sees his reflection, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. He pokes lightly at his under eye with a sigh.

“What? You get your period again?” Hyungsik sneers, rolling his eyes.

Jimin glares at him through the mirror, not dignifying his taunts with a response. 

Hyungsik sidles closer.

“You know,” he says, putting a hand on Jimin’s hip. “Maybe I could help you with that. Your alpha friend wouldn’t have to know.”

Jimin’s whole face wrinkles in disgust, flicking Hyungsik’s hand away from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me, asshole.”

“Oh, does your alpha know you talk like that?”

Jimin grinds his teeth, washing his hands quickly before turning from the mirror. He pushes past Hyungsik and out onto the restaurant floor. 

The lunch rush is just beginning to ramp up and Jimin could cry, stress already flooding his veins. He grabs an apron from the back and ties it around his waist. He tucks a pad of tickets and a couple pens into the little front pockets. He plasters a smile on his face and walks out to his section.

“Hi!” He chirps, smile warm and wide. “My name is Jimin and I’ll be your server this afternoon.”

Ten hours later he finally clocks out, dead on his feet, but with a wallet full of tips. 

Pulling lunch and dinner service may be grueling, but it’s lucrative.

Jimin walks out the front door with a bunch of other waiters, kitchen staff, and management pulling up the rear.

Hyungsik lets out a low whistle.

“Damn,” he says appreciatively, “Now that’s a car.”

Everyone looks up curiously, following his gaze to the other side of the parking lot. 

As Jimin’s gaze falls on the all black Rolls Royce a familiar figure climbs out of the driver’s side door.

“Park Jimin!” Yoongi calls, waving a hand. “Hurry up.”

“Holy shit—”

“Wait, that’s the alpha?”

“Is it?”

“Jimin—”

“I’ve gotta go,” Jimin says, standing still. He blinks and Yoongi’s still there, hands in his pockets as he moves to lean against the now closed driver’s side door.

“Well fucking go, dude,” someone says, Jimin isn’t sure who.

“Get that bag, baby!”

Jimin shakes his head, ignoring them. He begins to walk, slowly parting from the pack of restaurant workers and growing closer to Yoongi and his Rolls Royce.

“You can drive?!” is the first thing Jimin blurts when he’s close enough. Immediately overcome with embarrassment, he shakes his head at himself. “Of course you can drive. Why did you walk with me before?”

Yoongi shrugs.

“Walking is nice sometimes.”

“You’ve got everyone in a tizzy,” Jimin says.

Yoongi arches a brow.

“The car,” Jimin gestures with a limp hand.

Yoongi’s eyebrows go up then down, settling somewhere neutral.

“Oh, sorry.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine. I just— how did you know when my shift ended?”

Yoongi shifts on his feet.

“You were complaining yesterday about having to work lunch and dinner.” 

“Oh,” Jimin blinks. “You didn’t have to come.”

Yoongi shrugs. 

“I thought you might like a ride and some company.”

“I’m okay,” Jimin says quietly.

“You’re sure.”

Jimin nods. “I just. I had had a good feeling about this time so when I— and I didn’t sleep well last night so—”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to justify your emotions to me, Jimin. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

Yoongi licks his lips. He gestures to the car.

“Would you like a ride home?”

“Yes, please.”

When they get to Jimin’s apartment, Yoongi walks him to the door.

Jimin doesn’t invite him in.

“Thank you,” he says instead.

Yoongi smiles, nodding his head.

“No problem,” he says. “You can call or text me for a ride anytime—I may not always be able to come, but you can ask and I’ll do my best.”

Jimin nods.

They linger.

“Okay, well,” Yoongi licks his lips, “I’ll let you go in then.”

Jimin nods again.

“Good night,” he says.

“Good night,” Yoongi echoes.

*

Jimin is tipsy.

He’s not drunk or incapacitated, he’s tipsy.

Tipsy and ovulating and he has an idea.

“I’m gonna go home,” he tells Taehyung.

“I’ll come too then,” Taehyung says, immediately moving to slide off his stool at the bar.

“No no, it’s okay. I’ll call a taxi. Stay. I know you wanted to be here for trivia.”

“Are you sure?” Taehyung asks, frowning. “It’s not a big deal if you’re not feeling good. We can go.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m just tired.”

Taehyung frowns.

“Okay.”

He really wants to win trivia this week.

“Okay,” Jimin smiles, pulling Taehyung into a quick hug. “I’ll see you at home, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jimin smiles wider, grabbing his coat from the back of his stool and sliding it on over his shoulders. 

Taehyung still looks worried, but someone calls his name and he’s distracted so Jimin takes the opportunity to slip out the front door. He unlocks his phone and goes to his recent messages. He doesn’t have to scroll far to find Yoongi’s name. He debates whether to text or call for a moment, but he’s learned texting Yoongi is far less reliable than a phone call—he tends to get caught up in his work, leaving his phone to vibrate with texts helplessly for hours before it’s noticed by its owner.

He calls.

Yoongi picks up on the fifth ring, a quiet “Jimin?” into the receiver.

“Yoongi,” Jimin smiles at the sound of his voice. “Can you come pick me up?”

There’s a pause. It gets quieter on Yoongi’s end, some ambient noise disappearing.

“Yeah, where are you?”

“I’m outside Dixon’s.”

“The bar?”

“Yeah.”

Yoongi huffs.

“Wait inside—I’ll be there in twenty.”

Jimin hums softly. 

“Thank you,” he says.

He does not wait inside. He’s committed to the illusion of getting a taxi and he’s sticking with it, determined not to let on to Taehyung what he’s actually doing.

He waits impatiently, rocking side to side and blowing into his palms, trying his best to keep warm.

His phone vibrates.

<small>Almost there.</small>

Jimin smiles. 

The car pulls up and there are murmurs from people around. The window rolls down and Yoongi means across the center console to bade Jimin enter.

“C’mon, it’s fucking freezing,” he says.

Jimin smiles. He climbs into the car and immediately puts his seatbelt on, luxuriating in the warmth.

“Thank you,” he says.

Yoongi nods, checking his mirrors before pulling out into traffic.

“Am I taking you home?” he asks.

Jimin chews on his bottom lip.

“Depends on whose home you mean.”

Yoongi looks over at Jimin briefly, confused.

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin takes a deep breath.

“I think we should have sex.”

Yoongi chokes.

“What?”

Jimin sighs, turning his head to look at the side of Yoongi’s face.

“I want to try the natural way.”

“The natural way,” Yoongi mutters. “Are you drunk? We have an insemination appointment in two days.”

“No, I'm not drunk,” Jimin frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m tipsy. And ovulating. And I think you should knot me.”

Yoongi closes his eyes briefly, shifting in his seat.

“You can’t just say shit like that, Jimin.”

“Yoongi,” Jimin pleads. “I just want to give you a baby—it’s been almost seven months, I think it’s time to switch it up.”

“If this is about money—”

Jimin sucks in a sharp breath.

“I’m already being compensated for my time. You know this isn’t about money, Yoongi,” Jimin’s eyes begin to water. His voice cracks. “I’m sick and tired of failing you.”

“You’re not failing me,” Yoongi says quietly, firmly as he shifts gears. “These things take time.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says. “It happens when it’s time.”

“You’re the one that wanted to try the natural way in the first place,” Jimin reminds him. “Why are you so against it now?”

“I’m not against it,” Yoongi grits. “I just don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable,” Jimin says, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest.

“How long have you been thinking about this?” Yoongi asks.

“Since tonight,” Jimin admits after a long moment.

Yoongi sighs, pulling into Jimin’s apartment complex. He parks in front of Jimin’s building and crosses his arms against the steering wheel, looking over at Jimin.

“If you want to do it the “natural way” then we’ll have to wait for my rut.”

The word makes Jimin’s toes curl in his boots. He struggles to keep his scent from flaring, cheeks flushing hot. He swallows hard.

“Your rut,” he repeats. Yoongi nods, eyes sliding away from Jimin’s direct gaze. “When is it?”

Yoongi makes a thoughtful noise.

“Four weeks?” he says, shrugging. “Give or take.”

“Oh,” Jimin licks his lips. “I’ve never spent an alphas rut with them before.”

“No?”

“No.” 

Yoongi nods, resting his forehead on his crossed arms. He closes his eyes and sighs.

“If—in four weeks—you still want to do this the natural way, we’ll get things set up, okay?”

Jimin nods rapidly, leaning forward in his seat.

“For now though,” Yoongi sighs. “Go home, Jimin.”

“Okay,” Jimin says quietly. 

He slips out of the car and makes his way toward his apartment.

*

Four weeks is not very long, Jimin realizes. 

The days tick by rapidly and when he thinks about it his heartbeat kicks up, scent gone sweet and warm. He thinks about it a lot, reading forum posts about being an alpha’s rut partner, but too shy to ask questions himself. He’ll save them for Yoongi, he guesses.

Jimin checks himself out in the mirror, long taupe coat turning him into a flat line from the back, but he looks good from the front, put together. Like the kind of person who makes big decisions.

There are three days until Yoongi’s rut is predicted to start.

Jimin takes a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

Yoongi’s coming to pick him up so they can have dinner and talk—they’ve talked only a little in the past four weeks, texting sporadically and never about Yoongi’s looming rut. It makes Jimin feel impatient, small. It’s not like they talked constantly before, but he’s afraid now that Yoongi is mad at him, unable to shake the feeling that he’s upset the alpha somehow in the process of kickstarting this.

Jimin sighs. He looks himself up and down again.

“You ready for your date?” Taehyung asks sardonically, leaned up against the jamb of Jimin’s open bedroom door.

Jimin startles, turning to face him with a hand over his heart.

“Don’t scare me like that!” he scolds, frowning. He rolls his eyes. “It’s not a date.”

“You look like it’s a date.”

“Well, it’s not. It's just… dinner.”

“Where are you guys going?”

Jimin sends Taehyung a sideways look.

“Yoongi’s place,” he admits begrudgingly. “He’s cooking.”

“But it’s not a date,” Taehyung says flatly.

“No.”

“Why all the fanfare, then? Like, why are you doing dinner at all?”

“We have… things to talk about.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow.

“What kinds of things?”

Jimin dithers where he stands. He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“We’re going to spend Yoongi’s rut together,” he says, throwing the words out into the room.

Silence.

“Jimin…”

“Taehyung.”

Taehyung sighs.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt at the end of this.”

“I’m not going to!” Jimin protests. “Tae, it’s a perfectly normal part of surrogacy.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“I don’t like him like that!” Jimin insists. He crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s purely professional.”

“Jimin. Babe. I’ve seen the way you kick your feet when he texts you.”

Jimin sputters, flushes.

“I don’t do that!”

He does.

Jimin turns away from Taehyung, gathering his phone and keys from his nightstand. He shoves them into a little black backpack along with his chapstick and charger.

“Jimin,” Taehyung calls quietly.

Jimin sighs. He turns.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Taehyung repeats. “I’m worried you’re too invested; you cried over a diaper commercial yesterday.”

Jimin purses his lips.

He did.

“I just didn’t think it would be this difficult to get pregnant,” he says.

“It’s only been like six months—”

“Seven.”

“—sometimes it takes years.”

“I don’t want it to take years,” Jimin mutters, slinging the backpack over his shoulders. “Yoongi’s already waited long enough.”

Taehyung sighs.

“Just— please be careful.”

“You be careful.”

“Jimin.”

“Taehyung.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. There’s a spider crawling toward your hand.”

Taehyung jumps, letting out a little scream.

There is, indeed, a small spider making its way down the door jamb toward Taehyung. He smushes it with his thumb, other hand over his heart.

“You could’ve told me sooner,” he gripes, wiping his thumb off on his pants.

“I only just noticed,” Jimin frowns, pouting his lips. His phone vibrates and he checks it quickly. “I have to go.”

“Okay,” Taehyung’s frowning.

Jimin sighs. He smiles reassuringly. 

“Everything is going to be fine.”

*

Jimin sits at the breakfast bar in Yoongi’s house, watching him move around the sleek kitchen with practiced ease.

The house is exactly what Jimin expected and also nothing like he imagined. Full of dark woods and modern furniture, the living room is warm, cozy. There’s a big TV mounted on the wall and a large, dark grey sectional across from it. There’s a big wooden coffee table with books and magazines and lit candles, mellow enough that Yoongi’s deep bergamot scent shines through.

“I like your house,” Jimin says, looking around, taking in the built-in bookcases on either side of the television. He looks out the large windows that overlook a back patio, privacy fence a stone's throw away from the sliding glass doors. “I didn’t expect you to live in an actual house.”

Yoongi laughs quietly, almost drowned out by the sizzling of onions and garlic on the stove.

“What did you expect?” he asks.

Jimin shrugs.

“A bachelor pad.”

“A bachelor pad,” Yoongi repeats, amused.

Jimin watches his shoulders move when he chuckles, back muscles tensing under a thin black t-shirt as he lifts a bottle of red wine to deglaze the pan.

It reminds Jimin of his wine and reaches for the glass to take a sip, crisp and sweet.

“This is good wine.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Yoongi shoots Jimin a smile over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his risotto-in-progress.

“The food smells good too,” Jimin tells him.

Yoongi laughs again.

“The food has barely started.”

Jimin shrugs.

“Onions and garlic and wine are always a good start.”

“True,” Yoongi pours a cup of Arborio rice into the pot. 

“I guess I’ll be talking to your back for a while.” Jimin says, resting a cheek in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Yoongi says, shrugging. He adds a cup of broth to the rice mixture and stirs. “Gotta babysit this a bit.”

“I know,” Jimin says, amused. “I’ve seen the chefs at work making it.”

“Ah, I see.”

There’s a companionable silence while Yoongi stirs.

“Do you like to cook?” Yoongi asks.

“Mm, yeah, but I don’t get the opportunity much.”

“Ah, well, do you wanna help me out here then?”

Jimin perks up.

“I can,” he says.

“There’s some asparagus and brussel sprouts in the fridge. Could you prep them for me?”

“Yep!” Jimin chirps, standing from his stool. He rounds the island and opens the fridge. It’s pretty empty save for some drinks and skincare.

“You don’t cook much either, huh?” he asks, amused.

Yoongi meets his amused look with a shrug.

“Not as much as I’d like,” he says. “I work a lot.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Yoongi sighs.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta learn to pull back.”

“Mm, especially if you plan on taking care of a newborn soon,” Jimin says, grabbing a mesh bag of brussel sprouts and a bundle of asparagus from the crisper.

“True,” Yoongi agrees. He sighs. “It’s difficult.”

“Don’t you have like. Underlings?” Jimin asks, setting the veggies in the sink. “People you can delegate too? Where’s the cutting board? A colander?”

“Uh,” there’s a pause in Yoongi’s stirring. “They’re in the small lower cabinet beside the sink.”

“And your delegates?” Jimin prompts.

“Don’t exist,” Yoongi says, clipped.

Jimin’s eyebrows go high. He reaches for a cutting board and colander.

“What do you even do?” he finally asks.

There’s a long stretch of silence.

Jimin places the colander in the sink and the cutting board on the counter and turns to Yoongi with a furrow in his brow, confused.

“Is that a no-no question?” he asked, one eyebrow arched. “Are you a secret government agent and you’ll have to kill me if you tell me?”

Yoongi huffs, shaking his head. He laughs a little.

“No, sorry, I just—” he stops, licking his lips. There’s another moment of silence. “I make music.”

Jimin straightens, curious.

“You make music?” he looks around at the house again. “You must be pretty successful.”

Yoongi laughs, a choked sound.

“You could say that.”

Jimin’s eyebrow stays piqued, a hand on his hip.

“Would I know anything?”

Yoongi rolls his shoulders, staring determinedly down into the pot of risotto.

“We Don’t Talk Together,” he says.

“You worked on that?!” Jimin asks, stepping closer. He cranes his head to see Yoongi’s face, eager. “What part? What did you do?”

A smile cracks Yoongi’s face. He shakes his head, eyes darting briefly to Jimin’s before gluing themselves back to the rice he’s stirring.

“Uh— I produced it.”

Jimin goes still.

“You—” he stops. He shakes his head. He hisses. “You produced it?!”

Yoongi’s smile blossoms. He laughs, nodding his head. 

“Yeah.”

“You’re SUGA?!” 

Jimin feels lightheaded.

Yoongi nods once, firm.

“Oh my god,” Jimin says, a little breathless. “How am I supposed to halve brussel sprouts under these conditions?”

Yoongi laughs, head thrown back. He continues stirring, adding another cup of broth to his risotto as soon as he’s calmed, chuckles still rumbling through his chest. 

His scent has bloomed in the kitchen, happy and warm.

“I think you’ll manage,” he says.

Jimin laughs, a little incredulous.

“Okay,” he shakes his head. He turns to his cutting board and reaches across the counter to grab a chef’s knife from the knife block by the sink. “Okay.”

He rinses the veggies and pats them dry before chopping, shaking his head occasionally when he remembers he’s standing next to SUGA, of all people.

“I’m having a baby for SUGA,” he mumbles under his breath, halving a brussel sprout and tossing it into the colander.

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” Jimin shakes his head.

Yoongi doesn’t press.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he says after a long moment.

“Oh.” Jimin straightens, resting the knife against the cutting board. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

Yoongi darts a look his way, pausing his stirring.

“I’m trusting you,” he says.

“Of course! Of course,” Jimin nods. “I completely understand.”

“Okay,” Yoongi nods. He adds more broth to the pot and begins stirring again. “That’s good.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. He starts chopping again.

“How much longer until we eat?” he asks.

Yoongi hums softly.

“Maybe twenty,” he says. He nods toward the stove. “Can you turn the oven on? 400.”

Jimin nods, setting the knife down and reaching to turn the knob.

“How do you want this stuff prepped?” he asks.

“Mm, a little salt, a little pepper, some oil,” Yoongi shrugs. 

“Boring,” Jimin frowns.

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“It’s delicious.”

“Not even a little parm?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi huffs, smiling a little to himself.

“Fine. I might have some in the pantry.”

“The pantry?” Jimin asks. “You buy cheap sprinkle cheese?”

Yoongi nods. “Yes, I do.”

Jimin hums. He turns toward the pantry, pulling the double doors at the far end of the kitchen open. 

It's a walk-in.

“Of course it is,” Jimin mutters to himself, shaking his head.

The next twenty minutes pass quickly, easily, small-talk filling up the space between them.

Yoongi finishes his risotto and moves into steak while the veggies roast, dinner coming together quickly in the end.

“This smells amazing,” Jimin says, scooting his chair in at the small four-person kitchen table.

Yoongi smiles.

“Thanks for your help,” he says.

Jimin shakes his head.

“I barely did anything.”

“You did plenty,” Yoongi says. “The parmesan was a good call.”

“Thank you,” Jimin pretends to curtsey in his seat.

Yoongi shakes his head.

“Well, cut into it,” he says, gesturing with his knife. “How’d I do?”

Jimin rolls his eyes but obeys, cutting his steak in half and humming in appreciation.

“Medium-rare,” he says.

Yoongi does a dorky little first-pump and Jimin snorts.

“You’re such an alpha.”

“I mean… that’s just true,” Yoongi says, shrugging.

Jimin sighs.

“You’re annoying,” he says.

“But your steak is perfect,” Yoongi says.

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“And you’re annoying.”

“I can live with that.”

Jimin huffs, cutting a piece of steak and biting it off the fork with unnecessary aggression. He chews and swallows, washing it down with a sip of wine.

“So when are we gonna talk about your rut?” he asks.

Yoongi chokes. He wipes his mouth.

“Now, I guess?”

“Okay,” Jimin sets his silverware down. “What’s it like?”

“Uh,” Yoongi sets his own fork and knife down. “Horny?”

Jimin flushes.

“Obviously,” he huffs. “But, like, I don’t know. I’ve been reading forums—”

“Forums.”

“—and i'm not really nervous anymore—”

“That’s good.”

“—but I still don’t have any experience and I’m curious what it’s like for you, specifically.”

Yoongi shrugs. He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, I usually go through my ruts alone,” he says and Jimin is embarrassed how relieved he is, knows Yoongi can tell by the shift in his scent and the way his eyes slide away. “And they’re pretty quick—six days at most, usually less with suppressants.”

“Six is quick?” Jimin squeaks.

Yoongi shrugs.

“It was sometimes two—three weeks when I was younger.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide.

“That sounds miserable.”

Yoongi laughs, nodding.

“It was.”

“What about now?”

“It’s better now,” Yoongi says. He grimaces. “Less desperate. Being thirty-two and not a teenager has its perks—there’s breaks. I shower. I cook. I even change the sheets,” he laughs a little. “It’s a lot calmer an experience than it used to be, though I don’t know how spending it with an omega will affect that routine.”

“Do you think it will?”

“Of course,” Yoongi nods firmly. “Adding your scent, your pheromones—you—to the equation? It’s very different from locking myself in the house and masturbating for a week.”

Jimin swallows hard, shifting in his seat.

Don’t get wet.

“But you’re willing to try it?” Jimin clears his throat and asks.

Yoongi nods, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Yeah. If you’re comfortable with it, I’m down.”

“You’re down,” Jimin echoes. He laughs. “Okay. Cool.”

“Cool.”

*

Jimin blushes his way through calling out of work. 

It’s somehow worse telling his boss that he needs time off for his partner’s rut than it was the time he caught Jimin doing a pregnancy test in the bathroom during his break.

“Might as well be saying ‘sorry I can’t work next week, I’ll be busy getting railed,’” he mutters.

Somewhere behind him, Taehyung chokes.

“Dude.”

Jimin whips around, cheeks hot.

“It’s true!” he insists. He groans. “And my whole job is gonna know in like two minutes, because my boss is a gossip.”

Taehyung frowns.

“Isn’t that like. Classified information?” he asks.

“Classified?” Jimin repeats, eyebrow arched. “It’s not the CIA, Tae. It’s a mediocre Italian restaurant.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jimin shrugs.

“It’s not like HIPAA or anything. I don’t think they can get in trouble.”

“They should,” Taehyung frowns. “Or, at least, your boss should keep his mouth shut.”

Jimin shrugs.

“It’s not a big deal, I guess. Not really. Everyone knew I was getting inseminated and shit. What’s a rut?”

“Hm.”

Jimin sighs.

“I gotta finish packing,” he checks the time on his phone. “Yoongi should be here in twenty.”

“Should I go?” Taehyung asks.

“Go?”

“If he’s close to his rut I don’t wanna risk a confrontation.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Yoongi’s not like that.”

Taehyung snorts.

“An alpha’s an alpha,” he says. “And I’m an alpha and I don’t wanna risk things getting aggressive ‘cause I stood too close to you or something.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“I don’t think you need to,” he says. “Yoongi will probably stay in the car.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Jimin nods. “Hell, I’ll text him and tell him not to come up.”

“Okay,” Taehyung nods, hands in his pockets. “That works.”

He lingers in Jimin’s room.

“What is it?” Jimin asks, shoving folded shirts into a duffel bag. 

Taehyung sighs.

“You know my thoughts,” he says.

“I do,” Jimin agrees.

Taehyung sighs again.

“I just worry.”

“I know you do,” Jimin smiles a little, shaking his head. “But everything is fine.”

“Everything is fine,” Taehyung echoes. “Okay.”

It’s not sarcastic.

“Okay?” Jimin looks away from his packing to eye Taehyung. “No more protests?”

Taehyung shrugs.

“You’re a grown up.”

“I am,” Jimin agrees, amused.

Taehyung shrugs again.

“That’s all.”

Jimin laughs.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Taehyung nods his head.

“I’m gonna go play video games now,” he says. “I’ll see you in a week.”

“See you in a week,” Jimin smiles. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Taehyung says. He smiles, giving a little wave before walking down the hall to his room.

Jimin shakes his head, smiling.

He goes back to packing.

*

Yoongi’s drumming his fingers on the steering wheel when Jimin climbs into the car, but he goes tense as soon as Jimin’s scent hits him, nostrils flaring. His grip on the steering wheel goes tight, knuckles white.

Fuck.

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi shakes himself, blinking.

“Sorry,” he says, sheepish. He looks over at Jimin. “I can smell Taehyung on you.”

“Oh,” Jimin blinks. “Sorry, I should’ve showered.”

Yoongi shakes his head. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he says. “You’ll smell like me soon enough.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide, cheeks blushing a pretty pink.

Yoongi swallows hard, turning away from him.

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Sorry,” he says.

Jimin shakes his head.

“It’s okay. It’s true.”

Yoongi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but it’s counterproductive. Jimin smells warm and sweet and strong. Yoongi can practically taste orange blossom on his tongue. 

He’s hard in his jeans.

He smacks a hand against the steering wheel once, hard.

“Okay,” he says. “We should go.”

Jimin nods, reaching for his seatbelt.

Yoongi starts the car and pulls out of the spot. He tries taking deep breaths as he drives, but Jimin’s scent has grown musky, wet. He’s probably reacting to Yoongi’s own strong pre-rut scent.

“You okay?” Yoongi asks him, darting a glance Jimin’s way.

Jimin nods, legs crossed in his seat.

“I’m good!” he squeaks, cheeks red.

“Hey,” Yoongi calls softly, looking at Jimin while they wait at a red light. He rests his hand on Jimin’s thigh. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s natural.”

Jimin whines, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

“Don’t talk about it,” he says, covering his face with his hands. “At least wait until we’re in the bedroom.”

Yoongi laughs quietly, giving Jimin’s thigh a light squeeze. He moves his hand back to the stick shift and puts the car in drive, pressing the gas pedal as the light turns green.

They’re quiet for the rest of the drive, navigating the quiet streets with the radio playing quietly. They pull into Yoongi’s driveway and make their way, one by one, into Yoongi’s home.

They stand in the foyer, looking at each other.

“Well.”

“Well.”

Yoongi licks his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

Jimin lets his duffel bag fall to the floor by his feet.

“Yes.”

Yoongi frames Jimin’s face between both hands and pulls him in, pressing their lips together firmly.

Jimin kisses him back, wrapping his small hands around Yoongi’s wrists. 

Yoongi walks them backward until Jimin’s back hits the door, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. He sucks Jimin’s bottom lip into his mouth and lets it go with a pop, slipping his tongue into Jimin’s mouth.

Jimin moans softly, meeting Yoongi’s tongue with his own, stroking against each other, hot and wet. Yoongi’s cock twitches and he breathes out sharply through his nose, stepping closer. He turns Jimin’s head to the side, then slides his hands down to Jimin’s neck, thumbs on Jimin’s jaw. Jimin’s hands move to Yoongi’s shoulders, sliding around to warp around his neck.

Yoongi sucks Jimin’s tongue into his mouth and grinds their hips together, groaning at the friction on his hard cock. He pulls back to suck in a deep breath before diving back in, barely giving Jimin time to catch his own before their lips meet again, hips flush together. 

Yoongi can smell Jimin’s wet cunt, the scent growing stronger the longer they kiss. 

He groans into Jimin’s mouth, reaching down to cup the front of Jimin’s pants, fingers curling between his thighs to the damp denim between Jimin’s legs.

Jimin gasps, pulling out of the kiss, head thrown back against the door. His arms tighten around Yoongi’s neck.

“Yoongi,” Jimin parts his feet, taking a step wider.

Yoongi doesn’t respond, rubbing Jimin through his jeans. He latches his mouth onto the length of Jimin’s neck, sucking a hickey into the soft skin. He bites down and Jimin gasps, going tense. 

It leaves a perfect impression of Yoongi’s teeth behind.

Yoongi rumbles low in his chest, laving over the bite with his tongue. He slips his second hand into the back of Jimin’s pants, bypassing his underwear to cup his bare asscheek and knead.

Jimin mewls, eyes closed, breathing fast.

Yoongi pulls his fingers from Jimin’s pussy and brings them up to his nose, taking a deep breath. He licks them, sticks them into his mouth and sucks until the taste of orange blossom disappears from his mouth.

“Fuck.” he growls, squeezing Jimin’s ass. He puts his forehead to Jimin’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

He rolls his hips into Jimin, using his grip on Jimin’s ass to rub them together.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks, eyes closed, breathing ragged.

“Please.”

Yoongi pulls his hand out of Jimin’s pants and turns him around by his hips, pushing him up against the door. He grinds his hard cock against the cleft of Jimins ass, panting against the back of Jimin’s neck.

“You smell so fucking good,” he groans, taking a step back to undo the button on his jeans. “You’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

Jimin whimpers. He takes a step away from the door and arches his back, presenting himself.

Yoongi rumbles and unzips his pants, pulling his cock out of his jeans. He can see the wide circle of damp at the apex of Jimin’s pants. He reaches out a hand and presses his thumb to the center of it, closing his eyes at the heat emanating from Jimin’s soaking wet pussy.

Jimin wiggles his hips and Yoongi sucks in a deep breath. He steps up flush to Jimin’s ass and wraps his arms around, reaching for the fly of Jimin’s jeans. He undoes the button and lowers the zipper, tugging the pants down, down, down to Jimin’s knees. He doesn’t bother pushing down Jimin’s underwear, tucking two fingers under the flimsy crotch of them, knuckles immediately wet. He pulls them to the side and uses his other hand to guide the head of his cock to Jimin’s hot, wet cunt, sliding inside easily, without hesitation. 

Jimin whimpers and moans, fingers curling under and scratching the dark wood of the door. 

Yoongi pauses, throwing his head back with a moan, eyes closed. He pulls out slowly and slams back in, hitting Jimin’s cervix with a bruising force. He has his hands on Jimin’s hips, eyes glued to the place where his cock disappears inside Jimin’s cunt, fucking him hard and fast in the entryway.

He comes without knotting, leaving Jimin dripping semen down his inner thigh, head hanging between his shoulders as he pants with his hands still braced against the front door.

“Oh my god,” Jimin gasps, breathless. “Oh my god.”

“You okay?” Yoongi asks, hand on Jimin’s back. His soft cock is hanging out of his pants.

Jimin nods, waving Yoongi off.

“I’m good,” he pants, putting his hand back on the door. “Oh my god.”

“Sorry,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck. He tucks himself back into his pants.

“It’s okay,” Jimin says, straightening. He shimmies his pants down his legs and kicks them off, leaving him standing in his underwear. He turns to face Yoongi, cheeks a mottled red. “But I get to come too next time.”

*

It’s been four days and his labia chafe when he walks. Tender and sore, Jimin makes Yoongi bring him breakfast in bed each morning. 

Yoongi does so without complaint, fucking Jimin awake before rolling out of bed to cook them something.

Sometimes Jimin wakes up in the night and Yoongi’s inside him, hips rocking gently into Jimin where they’re spooned together.

“How often do you fuck me while I’m sleeping?” he asks, curious, a spoonful of yogurt halfway to his mouth.

Yoongi shrugs.

“Three or four times.”

“Every night?!” Jimin asks, incredulous. He nearly drops his spoon.

Yoongi shrugs again, mouth full of ripe berries.

“Damn,” Jimin looks down into his parfait. He blinks. “That’s impressive.”

Yoongi snorts.

“That’s rut.”

Jimin hums.

“I knew it was a lot, but I still underestimated things I guess.”

“How are you feeling?” Yoongi asks, sitting cross-legged and nude in the bed, sheet covering his lower half.

“Sore,” Jimin answers honestly. Yoongi frowns. “But good!” Jimin ducks his head. “I’m good.”

“That’s good,” Yoongi murmurs. “Two days left.”

“Two days,” Jimin repeats. He shakes his head. “You’re gonna have to carry me home.”

“Can do,” Yoongi says.

Jimin laughs. He takes another bite of parfait. He wonders how many bite-shaped bruises are on his neck. He’s lost count of how many times Yoongi’s bitten him and he hasn’t seen himself in the mirror in a while.

“How bruised am I?” he asks.

Yoongi grimaces, guilty.

“You’re pretty purple,” he says.

Jimin looks down at himself. He nods.

“Yeah, I guess I could’ve extrapolated.”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi shifts. “Your neck is, uh, particularly mottled.”

Jimin sets his parfait aside on the nightstand to his right, standing from the bed without caring that he’s naked. He makes his way to the en-suite bathroom and flicks the light on, really taking in his reflection for the first time in a few days.

“Oh wow,” he breathes, turning his head to one side then the other, craning his neck. “Oh damn.”

He reaches up and presses two fingers to the tender skin, wincing lightly. It doesn’t feel so good when his body isn’t flushed with lust. He leans over the bathroom counter to get a closer look and identifies multiple sets of very clear bite marks on his neck and shoulders.

“Wow,” he blinks, swallowing hard. He licks his lips, wondering what those teeth marks would look like scarred into his skin. 

He shakes the thought away as quickly as it comes, cheeks flushing.

“You alright?” Yoongi calls from the bed.

“I’m good!” Jimin yells back, swallowing hard. He looks himself in the eye in the mirror and says again, more quietly, “I’m good.”

He bounds back into the bedroom, bouncing onto the bed with a smile. Yoongi smiles back, his own parfait now set aside.

“Are you done?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward Jimin’s dish.

Jimin nods his head.

“Yeah,” he sighs, laying down on his side.

“Do you want to cuddle before round two?” Yoongi asks.

“Hmm,” Jimin pretends to think. “Yes.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but shifts to lay down, scooting toward Jimin. He reaches out and puts a hand on Jimin’s waist, pulling him in. Jimin smiles, hiding his face in Yoongi’s neck. He likes how Yoongi feels holding him, their mingled scents filling the room.

I love you. 

Jimin’s eyes go wide, grateful Yoongi can’t see his face. He burrows closer like the warmth of Yoongi’s skin can banish the thought from his mind, swallowing hard with tears burning at the backs of his eyes.

Taehyung was right.

*

Day six starts at two in the morning, Yoongi kissing Jimin’s shoulder until he stirs before rolling him onto his back with a warm hand, slipping between Jimin’s legs familiar and easy.

Jimin moans, breathy and high, body rocking back with every thrust of Yoongi’s cock inside him. He’s littered with bruises, aching and weak. He rests his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders, no longer having the strength to scratch and cling. He keeps his eyes closed, body lax. Yoongi’s pelvis rubs his raw clit and he whimpers, toes flexing lightly. He hadn’t been aware that this kind of pain could feel good before Yoongi wrung him out and kept going.

Jimin sighs softly, sliding his arms up to wrap them around Yoongi’s neck. He’s already come twice since Yoongi slipped inside, waiting patiently now for Yoongi to finish.

“I’m sleepy,” he mumbles. A yawn cracks his jaw, turning into a pained little moan halfway through; Yoongi’s teeth on his collarbone.

Yoongi noses at Jimin’s neck, scenting him and rumbling. His pace is steady, nearly mechanical. He doesn’t seem close or like he’s trying very hard to be at all.

“Yoongi…” Jimin whispers, fingers in Yoongi’s hair.

Yoongi shakes his head against Jimin’s skin, mouthing at his throat.

Jimin laughs quietly, body still rocking steadily.

He closes his eyes.

He opens them again and they’re knotted together, Yoongi’s hard cock pulsing inside him, filling him with seed. He sighs happily at the feeling, arms loose at his sides.

Yoongi is snoring lightly on top of him, breathing hot and damp against the underside of Jimin’s jaw. Jimin smiles a little, bringing a hand up to pet Yoongi’s hair. 

“It’s over,” Yoongi mumbles, clinging.

“Oh,” Jimin blinks. “Thank god.”

Yoongi laughs quietly, body shaking with it.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “The urgency is all gone.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jimin murmurs, fingers carding through Yoongi’s sweaty hair. “Maybe we’ve made something now.”

A gust of breath leaves Yoongi’s mouth, making Jimin shiver.

“Maybe,” he says. “Hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” Jimin agrees, looking up at the ceiling. He doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if they haven’t.

“Time is it?” Yoongi mumbles.

Jimin turns his head to the side and reaches for his phone where it lays on the nightstand, squinting against the bright light.

“3:02,” Jimin sets his phone back and closes his eyes.

“Mm, I can’t decide if I want to shower or sleep first when this knot goes down,” Yoongi says.

Jimin nods without looking.

“Shower,” he mumbles.

Yoongi laughs.

“You saying I stink?” 

Jimin shakes his head.

“No, I mean me shower. I dunno what you’re gonna do.”

Yoongi laughs again, leaning up to press a kiss to Jimin’s lips.

Jimin guesses it’s allowed because they’re still locked together. He kisses back.

Yoongi groans, rocking into Jimin. He shakes his head, pulling back with his lip between his teeth.

“Don’t get me started again,” he says.

Jimin laughs.

“You kissed me.”

Yoongi groans again.

“I know,” he rocks his hips, knot moving minutely inside Jimin. His eyes are closed, forearms braced on either side of Jimin’s rib cage. “Fuck.”

Jimin whimpers. “Yoongi.”

Yoongi shakes his head. He thrusts, fucking Jimin with his knot, face creased up in pleasure-pain.

Jimin gasps, legs spread, Yoongi’s knot tugging him from the inside out. Jimin whimpers, mewling. 

“Yoongi,” he says again.

“Sorry,” Yoongi groans with a shake of his head. He fucks Jimin harder.

Jimin moans, throwing his head back against the pillows.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, eyes closed. He catches his lower lip between his teeth and holds it, whimpering quietly with every thrust. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jimin breathes the word, reaching up to wrap his arms around Yoongi’s neck. “What happens when you come while already knotted?”

Yoongi groans, grinding into Jimin.

“Knot lasts longer,” he gasps, pulling back until his knot stretches the entrance of Jimin’s cunt.

Jimin whines at the burn of it, gasping when Yoongi thrusts back in, cock slamming into Jimin’s bruised cervix. Jimin comes quickly, orgasm shaking through him and leaving him over sensitive and trembling. 

Yoongi follows quickly behind, semen once again pulsing out of his cock, filling Jimin up with cum until there’s a little curve to his lower stomach and it leaks out around Yoongi’s knot.

Yoongi flops down on top of Jimin, panting and exhausted.

“Okay,” he says, eyes closed. “Now I’m finished.”

Jimin laughs, breathless.

*

Sitting in the dining chair is uncomfortable but Jimin doesn’t say anything, shifting minutely in his seat while Yoongi’s back is turned. It’s been a long, quiet morning. They’d taken turns showering around eleven and now Yoongi is making breakfast, three pans going at once as he stirs a berry compote and flips a crepe, eggs frying quietly on a back burner. 

Jimin watches his bare back move, shoulder muscles shifting under Yoongi’s skin criss-crossed with scratches where Jimin’s fingernails bit into the skin leaving red welts behind.

“Smells so good,” Jimin says.

Yoongi smiles at him over his shoulder then turns back to the stove.

“Hopefully it’ll help you gain back some strength,” he says.

“Oh god,” Jimin groans. “I have to work tomorrow.”

Yoongi turns around with wide eyes blinking.

“What? Why?”

“I only asked for a week off,” Jimin whines.

Yoongi shakes his head.

“You’re gonna have to call them,” he says. 

“I can’t just call them,” Jimin frowns.

“I’m serious,” Yoongi says. “If you explain the situation they’ll understand—you need at least three days post-rut to reach equilibrium, otherwise you are going to lose it when you leave this house.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means both hormonally and emotionally your body thinks we just mated. I bred you. And if you leave before you come down from it, your body will go into crisis mode thinking your alpha just rejected you and a rejected omega—“

“—has a high chance of rejecting any potential embryo too.” Jimin swallows hard, a sick feeling in his gut. “I know. I hadn’t thought about that.”

Yoongi frowns.

“Sorry, I just—”

“I know,” Jimin smiles reassuringly. “It’s okay; I’ll call.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you. I’m not really interested in going through rejection,” Jimin means that both ways, but he doesn’t expect Yoongi to know that. “I’ll call after we eat.”

Yoongi nods firmly and turns back to his cooking.

Jimin swallows a sigh.

*

“My god, you look like he tried to eat you,” are the first words Taehyung says when Jimin lets himself into their apartment three days later.

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“It kinda feels like he did,” he says. The aching has faded some, but his body is still tender. “I knew ruts were intense, but that was really intense.”

“Well, you sound good,” Taehyung says, turning to follow Jimin’s movement through the apartment, bag in hand. “You know I thought you’d come home crying.”

Jimin goes still. He swallows hard and shakes his head.

“Don’t push it,” he says.

Taehyung frowns, straightening where he sits.

“Wait, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Jimin snaps, short. He licks his lips. “I just—” he shakes his head, sudden tears burning at his lashes. “Dammit.”

He wipes at his cheeks and Taehyung stands, rounding the couch as Jimin lets his bag drop to the floor.

“He’s so sweet,” Jimin cries, wiping at his eyes. “And attentive and warm and we were laying there cuddling between rounds and I just— he just— I love him.”

Taehyung makes a wounded noise, pulling Jimin in.

“I’m sorry,” he says, tucking Jimin under his chin. He does his best to drown Yoongi’s warm scent out with his own woody vetiver. “I’m sorry, Jimin.”

Jimin sniffs, nose pressed to Taehyung’s collarbone.

“Aren’t you gonna say I told you so?” he asks.

Taehyung shakes his head.

“No,” he sighs, squeezing Jimin tight. “I didn’t want to be right.”

Jimin sniffles, eyes squeezed shut tight. He clings to Taehyung’s front.

“I’m so stupid,” he whispers. “I should’ve listened to you.”

Taehyung rubs his back.

“You’re not stupid. You’re very brave and kind and you have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Jimin cries harder and Taehyung holds him tight.

*

“Drink?” Taehyung offers from the kitchen. 

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“I can’t,” he gripes, arms crossed over his chest. He’s sitting on the sofa. He sighs. “But you can bring me some water.”

Taehyung nods, reaching into a cupboard for a glass and dispensing some water from the filter in the fridge. He brings it to Jimin, beer in his other hand for himself.

“So, what now?” Taehyung asks.

Jimin shrugs.

“I need to build some distance in, I guess. Stop being so—so accommodating. Vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable,” Taehyung echoes. There’s a moment of quiet. “I think the problem is that you work very well together.”

Jimin’s eyes crease, immediately blurring.

“Don’t say that.”

Taehyung sighs.

“Sorry. I’m just saying—”

“Well don’t.”

“—it sounded like you guys have a lot of chemistry.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“Yeah, from my point of view,” he sighs. “I’m an unreliable narrator at best.”

Taehyung frowns. He pets Jimin’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“It’s okay,” Jimin murmurs. “I just have to be more professional. Distant.” Jimin squeezes his eyes shut. He sighs. “I wish we’d met differently.”

“Me and you?”

Jimin swats Taehyung on the chest, rolling his eyes.

“Me and Yoongi, obviously.”

Taehyung smiles a little. “I know.”

Jimin huffs. He steps on Taehyung’s foot.

Taehyung doesn’t flinch.

“You’re so—”

“Annoying?”

“Yes.”

*

Yoongi has been locked in the studio for three days, burying himself in work. His phone is in his pocket at all times, sound turned up as high as it will go in case Jimin calls him.

Jimin has been strange the past three weeks, distant. He hasn’t texted Yoongi about his day or called him for a ride or to talk about the new annoying thing Taehyung has done or work or—

Jimin hasn’t been talking to him like he usually does, responding shortly to Yoongi’s check-in texts and keeping things purely professional otherwise.

Yoongi doesn’t know how to ask what he did to fuck things up.

He sits back in his computer chair with a sigh and digs his phone out of his back pocket, checking it for the millionth time.

He sighs. He sets it on his desk and turns his attention back to his computer, pulling his headphones on over his ears. Almost immediately, his phone begins to ring. He rips the headphones off and snatches his phone up off the desk without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Alpha Min,” there’s a smile in the person’s voice. “This is Hyuna from the clinic.”

“Oh, hello, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, Alpha Min, thank you. I’m actually calling with an update on your case.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not at all! We actually have happy news for you today.”

Yoongi blinks. 

“Oh, well, what is it?”

Hyuna laughs.

“Your surrogate, Jimin. We spoke this afternoon and he’s let us know he took a positive pregnancy test this morning! He’ll be coming in later this week for us to confirm with bloodwork, but it sounds like you’re well on your way to holding your baby in your arms.”

The blood drains from Yoongi’s face. He fumbles his phone and has to shake himself. He clears his throat.

“Oh— uh, thank you. Wow. That’s—” there are tears in Yoongi’s eyes. “That’s amazing.”

They exchange pleasantries and goodbyes and Yoongi sets his phone down. He sits for a long moment, drumming his fingers against the desktop. 

He stands.

He snatches his keys and wallet from the coffee table behind him in his office and heads out the door, taking the stairs two at a time down to the parking garage level. He leaves the music off as he drives, navigating familiar roads to Jimin’s apartment. He parks in his usual spot in the apartment complex and makes his way steadily up the stairs.

He knocks on Jimin’s door.

Jimin pulls it open with his face turned away, talking to someone inside.

Seeing him is a punch to the gut.

Jimin is rolling his eyes as he turns toward Yoongi, mouth fixed to say “Hello.” but he’s stymied by Yoongi’s presence, face gone white as a sheet.

“Yoongi,” he breathes, eyes darting back and forth over Yoongi’s face. “Hi.”

“The clinic called me,” Yoongi says and Jimin blushes, head down.

“Oh,” he curls his fingers together. “So, you heard.”

“I did.”

“Congratulations,” Jimin’s smile is forced, hands held out to his sides, palms forward, fingers splayed, celebrating.

“Jimin—”

“You didn’t have to come all this way though. It’s just a pregnancy test—too early to get excited, really.”

“Jimin—”

“We were actually just about to go out,” Jimin says, standing in pajamas, slippers on, face clean of makeup.

Yoongi closes his eyes.

“What did I do?” he asks. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?” Jimin blinks.

And blinks.

And blinks.

A tear runs down his cheek and Jimin sniffles, wiping it hastily away.

Yoongi frowns.

“Jimin, baby, talk to me.”

“Don’t call me that!” Jimin snaps, wiping at his cheeks. The tears are coming steadily now. “Fuck. You— you can’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers. His fingers itch to dry Jimin’s tears. “I—” he shakes his head. “I can’t say I didn’t mean it.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide. He looks up slowly.

“What?” his voice is quiet, small.

Yoongi clears his throat.

“I can’t say I didn’t mean it,” he repeats.

“Mean what?” Jimin asks. He slowly lowers his hands from his face, no longer crying, but his eyes are red-rimmed, face swollen.

Yoongi swallows hard.

“I— I care about you, Jimin.”

“You care about me?” Jimin asks. He shakes his head, looking away. “Of course you do, Yoongi. I’m giving you a baby.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“Jimin,” he waits for Jimin to meet his gaze. He braces himself. “I love you.”

*

“I love you.”

The words ring in Jimin’s ears.

“No you don’t,” Jimin says, shaking his head. He takes a step back. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m having your baby.”

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head before looking Jimin straight in the eye. “I’m not.”

Jimin swallows hard.

“You’re just saying that,” he whispers.

“Jimin.” 

“Yoongi, please,” Jimin pleads. “Just go home.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“No, not until you listen to me.”

“You haven’t said anything.”

“I said I love you,” Yoongi repeats, forceful. He takes a step closer. “And I meant it.”

Jimin shakes his head, eyes blurring with tears. He gasps a breath and sobs.

“This is weirdly threatening,” Taehyung says from behind him and Jimin’s never been so relieved to hear his voice.

“Please tell him to go home, Tae,” Jimin says, voice wobbling.

Taehyung frowns at Jimin then turns to frown at Yoongi. He scratches behind his ear.

“Come in,” he says.

Jimin turns to him wide-eyed, betrayed.

“Tae,” he hisses.

Taehyung looks vaguely guilty, but he stands firm.

“You guys need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about!”

“I’ve said what I need to say,” Yoongi agrees.

Jimin turns back to him, hand fisted in front of his chest.

“You did?”

Yoongi nods, staring Jimin in the eyes.

“Now I just need to know what you say.”

Jimin swallows hard. He looks away.

“Jimin…” Yoongi murmurs. “If you don’t feel the same way just say so and I’ll go.”

Jimin licks his lips, eyelashes filling with tears.

“I—” he hiccups a sob, head down. He whispers. “I don’t love you.”

Taehyung snorts.

Jimin whips around to glare.

“Go away, traitor.”

Taehyung puts his hands up in surrender and walks back into the house. 

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, holding himself tight.

“How do you know you love me and it’s not just baby fever?” he asks, head down.

“Jimin,” Yoongi starts softly. “How do I know? Because you haven’t been texting me at all these past weeks and I’ve been miserable with missing you. Because you're smart and funny and passionate and brave. Because the day we met I thought you were the sweetest, most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Because I knew I loved you before that phone call and it broke my heart to think of doing it all alone,” Yoongi takes a deep breath. He straightens. “I don’t want to raise this baby without you.”

“You mean it?” Jimin asks. He wipes tears from his cheeks. “You have to mean it, Yoongi.”

“I mean it,” Yoongi steps closer and Jimin lets himself be wrapped up in a hug. “I mean it. I love you.”

Jimin whimpers, clinging to Yoongi’s shirt.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

Yoongi holds him closer, squeezing him tight.

“Awesome,” Taehyung breaks in. “Now can you close the door? You’re letting the cold in.”

#my fic #ioht #yoonmin fic #yoonmin au #yoonmin fanfiction #ym au #ym fic #ym smut #yoonmin smut #trans park jimin #top myg #top yoongi #top min yoongi #top!yoongi

[namchyoon]

they're so DJDJSKDLSL

#btsgif #btsedit #bts #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #yoonkook #ot7 #* #*gifs #*bts #*ot7 #*yoonkook #*jjk #*myg #run bts #run bts next top genius part 2

[sugakookiesbutbadass]

lesson of the day: don’t trust min yoongi during variety games

Victim 1

jungkook: should i listen to suga hyung? 

yoongi: life is one shot kid, you gotta be in it to win it, just go on and bet

jungkook: ok, i’m going in!

spoiler: he failed 

yoongi: anyways, that was to teach you to never listen to what other’s say :)

Victim 2

yoongi: *continuously whispering things to jimin to confuse him and make the wrong decisions*

jimin: wow, if he wasn’t a celebrity I think he would have been a con artist

#run bts #run bts next top genius #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts meme #kpop #kpop meme #yoongi #suga #min yoongi #bts yoongi #bts suga #myg #yoongi meme #suga meme #jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jeongguk #jjk #jungkook meme #jimin #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin meme

[moonchild1]

jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)

hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤

a- angst s- smut f-fluff

series

dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a

↬  DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.  

block party by @minlucent f s a

↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l

a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg

↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it? 

lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l

secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and  you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au

i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a

↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you. 

fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth

↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller

pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s

↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l

animal by @cutaepatootie f s a

↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST

things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a

↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth

↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a

↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a

↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?

horizon by @/sokooks f s a

↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au

searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a

↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.

twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a

↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on

better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a

↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him

our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7

↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au

dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a

↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au

together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm

↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au

hot bot by @/httpjeon f s

↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.

stardust by @iamtaekooked f

↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his

serendipity by @rohobi f s a

↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.

chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a

↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au

sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a

↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin

↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au

sleepwalking by @taexual f s a

↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a

↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury. 

OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.

as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a

↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”

hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

J’aime by @baepop f s a

↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth

↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend

make me forget by @roseannekook f s a

↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.

one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm

↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song

boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a

↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc

the boy who left by @/gujoonim a

↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au

love sewn by @jvnghxope s a

↬ You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

not yet by f s @bratkook f s a

↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.

one shot

blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a

↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au

southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a

↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a

↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

enouement by @littlemisskookie s a

↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au

miss taken by @junghelioseok f s

↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l

the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a

↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

the proposal by @hansolmates f s a

↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l

red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s

↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money. 

burning bright by @snackhobi s

↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim

but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a

↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj

↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need. 

illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a

↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.

the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a

↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au

rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a

↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.

lowkey by @joonbird s

↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.

part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a

↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time. 

sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a

↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'

i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj

↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man. 

white lies by @noteguk f s a

↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you. 

yes coach by @/taleanewastime s

↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.

spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s

 ↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.

fifth wish by @jiminrings f a

↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth

↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library

#kiki!fic!rec #moon's recs #jungkook #jungkook:oneshot #jungkook:series #jungkook:smut #jungkook:angst #jungkook:fluff #favourites!jjk #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic recs #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook series #moonchild1 #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook

[dreamescapeswriting]

Night Routine ~ MYG

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

GENRE: established relationships, parent AU, cute, fluffy, Yoongi being appreciative of his wife, both of them being adorable for one another

PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

A/N: I’m sorry this came out so short T-T

When you first found out that you were having a baby you'd worried that things were going to be strained between you and Yoongi, but you couldn't have been more wrong. Ever since you told him about the pregnancy he had become one of the most dotting husbands you could have ever asked for, anything you needed - or wanted - you got with only one ask. Though there had been a time in your pregnancy when Yoongi had been a little over the top with you, refusing to let you do anything except rest in bed until your waters broke. 

"He's the cutest baby, ever," Yoongi told the boys as they sat in the living room. It was a few weeks since you'd given birth and it was finally time the uncles met their nephew, which they'd all nicknamed "Little Min".

"I think you're biassed," You giggled as you watched Yoongi rocking back and forth on the rocking chair with your son, his eyes fixated on him as if he could never look away. Yoongi could barely get away from his son, which you loved since you knew there were many parents out there that didn't want anything to do with their kids and you were thankful every day that Yoongi wasn't one of those. 

The man had continued to postpone going back to work after his paternity leave had ended, choosing to use most of his holiday days from work for now and even asking if there was a way he could work from home. Yoongi never wanted to leave little Min's side, or yours for that matter which you found rather cute, though you were going to miss him when HYBE would eventually demand him back at the building. While Yoongi could happily work from home there was eventually going to come to a point where he would have to go back.

There had been a time in his life when work was the only thing that interested him, that if he wasn't working he was sleeping but now all of that was on the back burner as he put his family before everything.

"I will say, Little Min, is very cute." Taehyung chuckled as he looked over Yoongi's shoulder and smiled. The baby boy looked almost identical to you save for his nose which was most definitely your husband's, the boys fell in love the moment you gave birth.

"He'll get mine and Yn's talents all mixed into one tiny package," Yoongi told the boys as you smiled a little, your eyes getting heavier the longer you sat there. It had been a long night last night since Little Min decided he was going to cry every time you left the room to go back to your own bed, in the end, you'd ended up falling asleep on the rocking chair which hadn't been the best decision since now you had a cramp in your neck.

"The baby keeping you up at night, Yn?" Jimin questioned when he noticed that you were starting to slowly nod off on them, you never once complained about the late nights but it was obvious that they were starting to get to you. You were finding it harder and harder to stay awake through the day and you knew it wasn't ideal when you would be alone with your son soon. But it was your job as a mother to stay awake with him in the night and to make sure you could ease him back to sleep.

"He sleeps through the night," Yoongi announced proudly, not knowing the truth, your heart sunk a little as you realised it was going to come out to your husband, that wasn't in fact the case. You'd kept it from him, you knew how hard he worked and you didn't want your son to wake him in the middle of the night so you made sure to go straight away.

"Are you sure? Because Yn looks shattered," Namjoon chuckles, adding a quick "no offensive" at the end as you let out a tired laugh and shake your head. It was true you looked tired and you knew it, god even your bags had bags at this point but you weren't going to complain, not even once.

"Yn?" Yoongi turned himself to look at you, studying you for a moment and realising just how tired you did look and his heart broke a little.

"Does he wake you up?" Yoongi frowned, glancing over at you as you bit down on your lip a little, you didn't hide it from him to be mean or anything like that, it was simply because you wanted him to rest. Yoongi needed his sleep for work, you could always catch up on it the next day while your son napped.

"Only sometimes," You lied, your nose scrunching up as you did so and Yoongi pouted a little. He'd been with you long enough to know the telltale signs of when you were lying and your nose scrunching like that was one of them, 

"Yn," He laughed weakly and shook his head at you, the boys smiled at one another and got up. It was obvious that you and Yoongi needed some time alone to talk about this and they were going to give that to you,

"We'll see you guys later, okay?" Jin asked as he bent down, giving you a tight squeeze as you hugged him back and smiled. The boys had become like brothers to you over the years,

"And if you ever need a babysitter, I'm only down the street," Hobi suggested as he hugged you next, moving to go and give little Min a kiss on the forehead as he fussed a little.

Once the boys had left Yoongi put your son back down to sleep and came to sit beside you on the loveseat, your head fell onto his shoulder and he held onto your hand, running his thumb over your skin. The thought of you doing all of the night feeds and changes crawled into his mind and guilt began to weigh him down,

"Why didn't you tell me he wasn't sleeping through the night? I could have been helping you," He whispered as you shook your head at him,

"You're going back to work soon, I didn't want you to be tired." You mumbled, yawning a little before looking up at Yoongi who seemed dumbfounded,

"I'm his mother, it's my job to be up with him." You mumbled the saying to him. You'd done so much online research and saw just how strong all of the other mothers were with this you knew you had to power through and be that for your son. If other people could stay up through the night and feel fine the next day then you were going to be the same way.

"You're the best mother in the world, that's true but do you know what I am?" He quizzed, moving a little to reach for a blanket to cover you both with, your eyes getting too heavy for you to try and keep open and you let them shut. Snuggling into your husband and letting out a relieved sigh as your body relaxed against his,

"Hmm?" You questioned, too tired to form any actual words at the moment,

"I'm his father which means it is also my job to look after him," He smiles as he notices your body relaxing more and more as you sink into a sleep state,

"And you." His voice seemed to be getting further away as you listened to him, a clear sign you were more tired than you thought and he smiled weakly.

"From now on, we will share the night routine. You're a strong mother Yn and there's no shame in asking for help," He whispered but you were already fast asleep by the time he said it. 

You woke with a jump as you glanced around, you were laid in bed but the last thing you remembered was being on the loveseat with Yoongi, your husband, who wasn't in bed with you.

"Yoongi?" You whispered sliding out of the bed, grabbing your cardigan and making your way to the nursery, stopping in the door frame to see Yoongi who was cradling your son and rocking on the rocking chair inside of the room.

"He was fussing, so I came to put him back to sleep." He whispered, making your heart flutter as you knelt down beside the chair and looked at your two favourite boys in the whole world.

"We share the night routine," He ordered before kissing your cheek and sending you back to your own bed for the rest of the night so you could get some much needed rest.

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagines #suga #suga x reader #suga imagine #suga imagines

[sailoryooons]

Angel | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences. 

☾ Word Count: 15,551

☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end. 

☾ Published: September 3, 2023

☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night. 

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it. 

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property.  Let’s try to play nice and show face. 

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do. 

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl. 

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.” 

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway. 

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts. 

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer. 

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right. 

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him. 

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.” 

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.” 

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.” 

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound. 

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top. 

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well. 

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed. 

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom. 

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely. 

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck. 

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone. 

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal. 

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house. 

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced. 

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly. 

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses. 

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel. 

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops. 

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning. 

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients. 

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store. 

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time. 

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes. 

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in. 

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required. 

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm. 

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you. 

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space. 

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too. 

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work. 

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms. 

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room. 

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time. 

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh. 

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back. 

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you. 

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.” 

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.” 

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of  your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.” 

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.” 

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for. 

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning. 

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability. 

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly. 

So he does. 

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly. 

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you. 

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds. 

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees. 

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no. 

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs. 

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead. 

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it. 

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to. 

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you. 

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.” 

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.” 

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.” 

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.” 

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair. 

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out. 

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.” 

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful. 

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough. 

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?” 

“Fuck yeah, Angel.” 

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him. 

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him. 

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching. 

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home. 

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier. 

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything. 

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love. 

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day. 

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.” 

-

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake. 

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be. 

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time. 

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder. 

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.” 

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it. 

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth. 

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have. 

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to. 

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself. 

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters. 

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself. 

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now. 

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him. 

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner. 

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers. 

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile. 

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head. 

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin. 

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator. 

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly. 

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away. 

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning. 

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip. 

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement. 

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left. 

-

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt. 

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen. 

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something. 

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss. 

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle. 

Money. This man has money. 

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately. 

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either. 

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.” 

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder. 

“I will fucking kill you.” 

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast. 

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.” 

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.” 

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen. 

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life. 

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is. 

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.” 

“Okay.” 

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.” 

“Okay. I love you.” 

“See you soon.”

-

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat. 

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood. 

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin. 

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe? 

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi. 

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.” 

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting. 

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead? 

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated. 

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again. 

-

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost. 

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm. 

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have. 

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage. 

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it. 

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live. 

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple. 

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off. 

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried. 

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined. 

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety. 

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Click. Squeeze. Bang. 

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand. 

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang. 

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels. 

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified. 

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!” 

“That’s it, keep talking to me.” 

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!” 

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths. 

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?” 

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place. 

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather. 

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off. 

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun. 

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.” 

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

-

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you. 

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home. 

Home. 

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare. 

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now. 

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only. 

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense. 

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this. 

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling. 

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.” 

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching. 

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk. 

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs. 

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle. 

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him. 

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver. 

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good. 

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good. 

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you. 

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking. 

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.” 

“Fuck.” 

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little. 

“Fuck yeah.” 

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself. 

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.” 

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.” 

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.” 

“Mmm.” 

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying. 

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock. 

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad. 

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity. 

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?” 

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.” 

“Shit shit shit shit.” 

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it. 

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin. 

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest. 

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.” 

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and  the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.” 

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #mafia yoongi #mafia bts #minors dni #minors do not interact #halis happy agust

[taegularities]

heaven to you (teaser) | myg & jjk (m)

Summary: A casual hook up morphs into a fierce fever dream when roommates slash best friends Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook bring heaven and hell to you – all at once, in one single night.

➳ pairing: Yoongi x reader x Jungkook ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: kind of fwb, threesome, college au; fluff, hella smut ➳ warnings: lmfao buckle up, there'll be quite a few warnings for this one :') yoongi and oc are fwb, teasing, flirting, kissing booth stuff, jk wears glasses and has long hair (manbun beloved), yoongi and jk are both so cocky :'), but so is oc, sexual tension, mid-sex convos, threesome ofc, dom yoongi n jk, explicit sexual content, such as double penetration, degradation, spit stuff, manhandling,.. (will expand on this once the full thing drops – but it's a whole lot 😄), they do some weird ass stuff during sex lol but it's such a fun piece, aftercare, valentino yoongi and ck jk!! THE ENDINGGGGG LMFAO ➳ est. wc: 12-15k 😁 1.5k for the teaser!! ➳ a/n: so :’) this had been in planning since? december? i knew i wanted to do a lil something for the milestone, but that lil something turned into… whatever demonic hell this is LOL. back to the ruin you days, i guess. am super excited for this to finally drop. gonna give y'all the best version of it possible, love you <3

MASTERLIST | WIPS | TAGLIST

No matter how fatigued you feel, you’re determined to see this thing through.

Today’s event might have tired you out, but Yoongi’s tongue was quick to bring you back into the land of the living. You’d never admit it to him, but no college responsibility could force you away from the sins he always offers to you.

And two rooms from here, he’s waiting to send you down that spiral again.

You shudder in excitement.

You lift your body off the toilet seat and wash your hands; one last glance into the mirror as you crack your joints. You’d put a gym session into tomorrow’s schedule, but tonight might just serve as exercise enough.

Deep breath in, you step out with strengthened enthusiasm. You brace yourself for whatever’s to come, but what you don’t expect is the presence awaiting you outside the bathroom.

Your fingers halt over the door handle; a light smile creeps upon your face when you see him leaning against the wall.

Eyes shift from bottom to top slowly.

He’s gorgeous. Sculpted and tall. One of his legs is angled, heel against the wall; so you see how thick and strong his thighs are even through his baggy joggers.

And you don’t think he had his hair in this damn bun before; it presses against the wall. Combined with the glasses on his nose, he emanates some type of… innocence.

But you know Jeon Jungkook. And he’s far from the purity you’re so foolishly perceiving right now.

His head moves when he registers your light steps, meeting your eyes so nonchalantly that you trash all prior thoughts of innocence once and for all. You don’t ask what he’s thinking or what he wants. You assume he was merely waiting for his turn to enter the loo.

Jungkook’s plans for tonight, different from yours, probably consist of taking a good shit, seeking a filling meal and drowning in a good night’s sleep. That’s what you think, at least.

But as you move across the hall and towards him, he doesn’t walk past you, doesn’t target the bathroom.

Instead, he keeps looking at you.

And something in his gaze suggests that he’s not quite done talking to you; something of the awkward conversation in the living room still remains. 

Yet, he doesn’t speak.

So, you do, “What?”

“Hm?” he voices, a head tilt suggesting surprise, but you know he’s fucking with you. “Nothing. Was gonna pee.”

“Right.” You don’t move from your spot yet. Fold your arms under your chest. His pupils flit down for a second and then up to your face again; weirdly proud, you press your tits up some more. “Then go.”

“Alright, boss,” he rolls his eyes at you, pushing past you with a light brush of your shoulders, “I’ll go.”

And he does. Doesn’t mean you trust him. So you remain and wait.

Wait a minute longer. When he comes out, you’re still standing there.

He doesn’t look surprised. Just trudges towards you with half damp hands in the pockets of his sweats, sly smile on a pretty face until you speak and it drops.

“Was that off putting to you? You really don’t want it?”

There’s a rapid upward movement of one of his eyebrows, and he feigns the confusion perfectly as he asks, “Want what?”

“To join us.”

He puffs out a mocking laugh. Looks to the side, enough for you to admire his chiselled features. A jaw as sharp as a razorblade. Mole on his neck. Wanna kiss.

Then, he asks, “You were actually serious? Like, you still are?”

“Do I look unserious to you?”

Your blinking is supposed to be cute, but he doesn’t fall for it. You clench your jaw; you know he doesn’t want to reject you. You see it in his movements.

So you try, “Or are you just not made for it?”

Which seems to trigger just the right amount of ego in him. Because he laughs again, forming a circle with his lips, and lets out a little, “Ohhh,” as though you’re challenging him. Which, in some ways…

Before you know it, his scent wafts towards you. Soapy, pleasant. He’s close enough to trap you — which, to your surprise, he suddenly does.

One arm on each side of your head, he closes in. Your head moves immediately, your gaze set on his colourful tattoos. When you look at him again, the infuriating, lopsided signature smirk makes your eyes roll — a coping mechanism in a situation like this.

You won't reveal that the sudden movement sent a shiver down your spine, or that you held your breath for a moment possibly long enough for him to notice.

So eye rolling it is, disguising the wavering self-control as annoyance when he explains, “This wouldn’t be my first time, babe. Yoongi and I don’t mind sharing.”

His breath is warm, minty. Did he chew gum before?

You gulp.

“But,” he continues, tilting his head; you nearly expect him to kiss you. But he doesn’t. “You’re not exactly the type of girl I usually fuck with.”

Not his type of girl, huh?

Rude.

“Why not?” you ask. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs his shoulders.

You see your reflection in his glasses — so far, you seem composed. Though less when he says, “You like leaving people and things broken. You get bored fast.”

Ouch. You wish he was lying.

It’s not like you do it on purpose. People catch feelings fast — you don’t. You make your intentions clear; the times things broke weren’t because you intended them to.

But…

You’re surprised he knows about this at all. You know Jungkook isn’t one to do feelings either; Yoongi told you. Perhaps he’s divulged your philosophies, too.

“So do you,” you answer.

“You got bored of Yoongi really fucking fast, too.”

“Not true. I’m still here.”

“You are now. You haven’t been for quite a while, right?”

You silence. What the hell does he mean?

Bewildered, you stare at him; if he wasn’t surrounded by this odd mystery, you’d push him away again. But he wants to rile you up, and you know you can take a lot more than that.

When you don’t answer, he pulls away, tugging back one or two escaped hair strands. Your eyes follow as he secures them behind his left ear, adorned by two earrings.

But when he raises an eyebrow in question, you awaken again, assuring him that, “You don’t have to. Yoongi and I can just do our thing and you… I don’t know. Have a good night, I suppose.”

You nod once and then push your body off the wall, glad you’re not sandwiched between it and Jungkook anymore. But before you can escape into your friend’s bedroom, a strong hand pulls you back.

You gasp, not anticipating the bold grip, flashing a glare to the veins on the back of his hand as you ask, “What? Didn’t mock me enough or—”

“You won’t ask again?” he has the audacity to inquire.

“You can’t be serious,” you scold, eyes wide. You can’t get out of his hold, so you don’t try just yet. “I’m gonna go. He’s already lighting candles or whatever.”

Jungkook chuckles. “As if. He doesn’t do that shit.”

“True,” you admit, “well, but he is waiting for me. Was waiting for you, too.”

“For me, huh?”

His grin is dorky. The following pout even more so. Horny moods make him cocky, but you remember from every other time you saw him at their dorm how freaking annoying he was.

A likeable annoying, you must admit. Capable of sweet smiles and funny jokes and absolute dumbass behaviour.

Like now.

“Awwh. Man, I saw him just this morning,” he says, loosening his grip around your wrist, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I understand if you missed me, but he really didn’t have to.”

You grimace. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah. Just so you know, when you call someone an idiot, you—”

“Alright. I’m leaving.”

Which you do. With absolute confidence.

Throwing your hair back and moving your hips. But what you also do is look back once you’ve taken a couple steps, nodding into the general direction of the bedroom. 

Granting him a boost of confidence as you give into his wishes and ask again.

“Are you coming or?”

“Uhm—”

“Isn’t that why you wouldn’t let me go?” If he rejects you now, you’ll walk away. End of story. “Or why you’re looking at me like that.”

He doesn’t answer. Caught red-handed.

He seems to contemplate it. Is eyeing you carefully, amused beyond imagination. What a delightful expression.

One last time, he thinks aloud and says, “You’re acting badass now, but that will backfire. And you will burn yourself.”

“So what? Fire’s fun.”

“I’m just saying.” One more. “Tonight might be a little too much for you with the two of us, you know? I’m not as easy to handle as you think. ”

“I don’t think you are,” you confess. “But I don’t want to handle you. I want the opposite.”

No matter how tired you are, you will see this thing through. With or without him, you will take what Yoongi gives. Accept if Jungkook offers anything. And you think… you think he will.

There’s a glimmer in his eyes. A hint of desire, hunger growing in the predator’s big gaze. If he wants to reject you now, you’ll walk away.

But you don’t think he will.

And once more, courageous, you say, “Handle me, Jeon Jungkook.”

okayyy. this is one glimpse of the whole sin lol. yoongi is gonna have a way bigger role, this is just a jk centric scene!! they're both prominent a lot in every other scene and they're both menaces :')

please look forward to it!! it's gonna be a fun lil piece before we go back to our lil angst/fluff corner. and support by leaving a like, reblog and comment! anddd send me your thoughts, your enthusiasm is extremely encouraging!!

if you want to be on the taglist, here you go!! love you all <3

#yoongi smut #jungkook smut #yoongi fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #bts x you #jungkook fic #yoongi fic #jungkook #yoongi #thebtswritersclub

[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter one

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love,

word count: 6.5k+

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained yoon, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, rude Hybe executive that should be fired, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, and cute yoon and oc interactions bc yeah....its thier first time actually meeting so it must be cute!

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: YAHHH chapter one!! Ok i apologize if the meeting is so long and drawn out...I really tried to make it fun but so much info is needed too haha. Anyway this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Winter in Seoul feels like stepping onto the set of your most beloved holiday film.

As the brisk air wraps around you, delicate snowflakes gather atop your head, urging you to cocoon in your finest wool trench coat. Yet, despite the chill, the sight of frost-bitten trees basking in the morning's golden rays offers a source of warmth and delight. Perhaps the most radiant tree of them all is the towering Christmas tree that sits proudly in the heart of the city. Adorned with shimmering red and gold baubles, the giant evergreen catches the eye of every person that walks by–both tourists and locals alike.

Nearby shopping malls buzz with holiday fervor too as shoppers scour for treasures, couples engage in friendly competition to find the ultimate gift, and children line up to take their picture with Santa. But the best part is when night falls. The whole city comes alive with joy and laughter as loved ones meet one another on the ice-skating rinks, while karaoke bars echo tipsy renditions of timeless songs sung by overworked professionals, each with a bottle of soju in hand.

Yes, Seoul is a place for making memories and you’re in the thick of it.

Having been in the city for three years, one might assume you’ve become well accustomed to the energy of the season. You've really grown to love it here. But adjusting to the new environment is still proving to be a challenge, the most outstanding being the prevailing beauty standards.

Massive billboards featuring stunning models serve as constant reminders of the type of beauty one should aim to achieve as you commute to work. Impossible to miss are the shining examples themselves – iconic k-pop groups Seventeen, Red Velvet, EXO, BlackPink, Mamamoo, TXT, and of course BTS plastered on the side of every flat surface imaginable. You’re not exactly complaining about that aspect as you’ve helped design a good handful of them as a top marketing and advertising professional. But the strict image of what constitutes a beautiful and worthy individual weighs on you more than you’d like.

While a conventional body type isn’t what you’ve been given in this life, you don’t consider yourself to be completely unattractive either. Having high cheekbones, a strong jawline, striking light brown eyes, good enough ass, and a full chest shouldn’t classify as undesirable. Still, you wish you’d adopt this more body positive mindset rather than your current overthinking one. It’s easier said than done, being that you not only see idols everyday on the streets in digital form but at work as well.

You continue further into city until a set of tall, glass doors meet you mere steps away. You tilt your head back to catch the name of the skyscraper before nearing the building’s sturdy, silver handle.

BigHit Music.

Feeling its cool metal under your fingertips, the door swings open with an easier pull than imagined to welcome you into the bustling lobby. You feel a rush of confidence return to you upon entering– this is your domain, this is where you truly shine.

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall Bang PD's voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before.

Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

After another late-night prep session for Monday’s D-Day proposal, you trudge through your apartment door well past 8:30 pm with an empty stomach and a throbbing headache. Good news is that your graphic design team seems to be well on track with their album mockups ready to present.

The same can’t be said for your U.S. promo team however, who required additional guidance on their projects. The social media team was in a similar boat. Somehow several of their members lost track of time and were convinced the proposal was still two weeks away.

Despite the hiccups, you managed to tie up the loose ends, but it meant that none of you got to leave early.

When you finally get to curl up in your fluffy sofa, a loud, exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Your lids flutter shut too as you rest your head against the soft cushion. Silently, you make one last mental rundown of all the tasks you checked off today.

Did you miss anything?

D-Day is the most crucial project you’ve ever taken charge of—you need it to be flawless.

When nothing pressing comes to mind, you grab the tv remote from your dark oak coffee table and aimlessly flip through the channels. You’ll unwind for an hour and then call it a night.

Ten minutes into an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and the light chime of your phone's notification bell catches your ear.

Tae 💚: Haven’t heard from you all day. Everything alright?

Taehyung, your best friend. You smile fondly at his message as your thumbs hover over the reply button. He's always checking in on you. You and Taehyung have been friends ever since you first moved to Seoul and started working at Hybe. You didn't expect your friendship to become this strong, but both of you are sociable individuals, which led to discovering several unexpected commonalities. One of those is a shared love for jazz, which has been one of your all-time favorite genres for as long as you can remember.

You: yeah, I’m good. Just tired. Been working on D-Day's proposal for months and finally got it fully prepped for.

Tae 💚: Well, that's amazing news! You feel good about it?

You: I don't know. I’m definitely ready for this project but I’m also starting to feel a little burned out. The proposal is only the beginning you know, and it's already taking the wind out of me.

Tae 💚: Sorry to hear that 😞 I'm sure it must be draining, but I also know this is your territory. No one is more fit to head this project than you. Everyone thinks so. How about you take the weekend to rest?

You: Yeah...I'm watching B99 rn

Tae 💚: B99?! Without me?

You can't help but giggle. Somehow over the course of three years you've roped your best friend into becoming obsessed with your mindless sitcoms. You've done more than a handful of binge watching together, until all hours of the night.

You: Wanna come over for an hour?

The company might be nice.

Tae 💚: Be there in 20 🏃

Your door bells rings exactly twenty minutes after you and Taehyng finish exchanging texts. He's so prompt it scares you sometimes.

“Hey.” His deep, baritone voice greets you first, along with a friendly hug. Taehyung slips his snow covered boots off upon entering your apartment and hangs his wool jacket on your coat rack. His limited edition Gucci scarf is next. Taehyung loves the winter as it’s the time he can wear his most luxurious clothes.

“What’s this?” You peak inside a brown paper bag that Taehyung has conveniently set on your kitchen countertop. He flashes you a playful grin and gestures you to open it. Naturally, you're suspicious but it all washes away when a new, unopened bottle of whiskey presents itself. “Oh my god, you didn’t!" You swat his arm in a rush of excitement.

“I had to!" Taehyung opens a kitchen cupboard and grabs a glass from the top shelf. He's been in your apartment enough times that he’s grown comfortable with your place. That and he's also your best friend.

"With all the recent events you've had going on, I think it calls for a celebration." Taehyung expertly pours you a glass of the smooth, rich liquor and offers it to you.

“Thank you, Tae," you say, taking the glass from his hand. "Come sit down. Jake's about to sing I Want It That Way with the police lineup.” Taehyung pours himself a glass of Pinot Noir and follows your lead.

After about forty minutes of sitcoms and booze with your best friend you begin to feel yourself relaxing. Whatever challenges lies ahead, you know you'll be able to handle them one whiskey at a time.

All stream of thought is interrupted when your phone dings off again. It's now half past 9, who on earth is trying to reach you?

Fuck.

You tighten the grip on your phone as soon aa the message appears. Taehyung, previously occupied by the end credit scene, catches the sudden shift in your demeanor and calls your name but he's inaudible to you.

Mom: It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you. We know you're busy but your father and I want to know if you’ll be coming home. The holidays are coming up right? Why don't you use some of that time to come see us? There's someone we want you to meet.

"__, who is it?" Taehyung's voice manages to break your intense concentration.

“Just my mom.” You answer briefly, still averting eye contact.

“What’d she say?”

“She wants me to come home for the holidays.” You shut your phone off in an effort to calm yourself.

Unlike Taehyung your relationship with your parents has always been rocky. Expectations are set high from birth and you never see eye to eye. Likely, the only accomplishment that's earned genuine praise from them was when you accepted your initial job proposal with Hybe. A respectable career is only second to health to them after all. Your father was more torn with the news that you’d be moving hundreds of miles away than your mom however, not that you’re surprised.

Of course while having a healthy and respectable career is priority for your parents, there is no mistake that their greatest wish is to see their daughter married. A stable man with ample resources to provide her a secure home and healthy children is preferable.

You love your parents and you'll always be there for them, but you must admit that their traditional outlook is one you can never live up to. They tried setting you up dozens of times before, and tonight's request to have you come home "for the holidays to meet someone” is simply another attempt to marry you off.

Yes, you would like some sort of companionship in your life and you hope if you find it that they’ll approve. But giving your hand in marriage to the first notable suitor isn't your forte. You consider yourself to be an independent woman with a tender heart, and you'd rather be single for the entirety of your life than be forced into another obligation.

Preserving your independence is highly important to you. So no, you draw the line when it comes to relational affairs.

If only you could be firm and repeat all the above to them aloud, rather than within your own head— if only.

“So are you gonna go?"

You don't respond immediately, still weighing out your options. "Not sure," you murmur. "I don't really want to but maybe I should. I haven't gone home to see my parents since last year."

Taehyung recognizes the growing tension in your voice as well as the flushed expression playing on your face. He wishes he could take it all away but instead he moves closer to your side of the sofa and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He's silent for a moment before continuing. "Why don't you tell them you can't go because of work? There must be a number of things you'll need to get ahead of for Yoongi's album."

"True. But it's too easy, they won't buy that. I have to go."

"What if you say I invited you to celebrate with my family this year? We're going to a nice, cozy cabin a few hours north of here for Christmas."

The offer is temping and you know he means it but it's also not enough.

"No," you reject. "They'll think we're dating and ask to meet you."

"I'll do it!" Taehyung's voice lifts into a more playful tone, earning a soft chuckle from you.

"Very cute Taetae, but no. Neither of us are going to say 'that was a good idea' in the end, trust me. I'll have to make this decision on my own."

Taehyung grimaces slightly at your last choice of words. "I really think you should consider telling them you can't due to a full schedule. We don't get that much time off at the company any way. Don't your parents live at least 7-10 hours away? Come on, spend the holidays with me and the guys. Plus, it'll be my birthday soon. I want you there at my party."

When you look at your best friend to gently scold him for not so sneakily using the guilt tripping technique, he's pouting. Like a baby. Not even you can resist him with that face on.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Taehyung chirps and snatches the tv remote to flip through episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. "I want you to be around those closest to you, especially around the holidays. You're my badass best friend who deserves more than some stupid forced marriage to a guy with an unhealthy alpha male complex. Should we top the night off with one more episode by the way?"

You nod and Taehyung hits play on the remote. "Thank you," you coo, feeling a tad better.

The weekend is a blur at best and you’re back at the office before you realize. Of course this is no ordinary work day however, given that today signifies the day you officially start work as D-Day’s marketing director. You’ve been perfecting every detail of the proposal like a madman since the beginning, meticulously obessing over every element. Your new team members must have a pretty eye-opening understanding of what it’ll be like having you as a lead for the next year–you pity them to be honest.

Between your fingers clutches a small tube of lip balm, berry flavored with a faint tint to match. You love chapstick for some odd, inexplainable reason and you felt the need to apply a generous amount of it on your lips for good luck.

“No one’s here yet,” Yi-joon, one of the members of your graphic design team, speaks first upon stepping foot into your assigned conference room. Others hum, unsurprised. Being the ones leading the presentation, you’d be startled if anyone actually arrived beforehand.

A grand mahogany table, seating up to 14 individuals, boasts itself to you in the middle of the room with every chair lined in genuine black leather. Traditional seating arrangements have one chair at the head of the table, but today’s meeting has two, both positioned to face the wide presentation screen at the opposite end.

Undoubtably, they’re reserved for Bang PD and Min Yoongi.

A momentary shiver courses down your spine, yet fades quick when one of your team members asks if anyone's seen the remote to the projector. There’s no time for nerves to be acting up, you remind yourself calmly. Only 15 minutes remain until every C-suite executive in Hybe congregates into the room.

With a composed demeanor, you swiftly gather your thoughts and respond, "Try checking inside the podium. It's likely close by, but if not, we can always power it on manually." You then start delegating tasks to the rest of your team, mentally rehearsing key points of the proposal between each instruction.

Time appears to have vanished in the blink of an eye because in a matter of seconds a gentle breeze slips through the conference door, accompanied by the arrival of several Hybe executives. You offer a polite "good morning," which is briefly reciprocated as they take their respective seats around the conference table.

You count twelve at the table in total, including your own team.

"Sajangnim should be here in about–"

Hybe's Chief Finance Officer doesn't get to finish his sentence when an older gentleman in a freshly pressed suit walks through the door, fully immersed in conversation. The person following close behind him is none other than the man of the hour himself–Min Yoongi, fitted in a clean white dress shirt that's unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled to the elbows. His soft, raven hair falls gently in front of his eyes, framing his face a little too well.

Unexpectedly, both your gazes shift from Bang PD and onto one another. His dark, intense eyes pierce through you as they observe you from the opposite side of the room. You're certain he recognizes you from your previous shared encounters, though you don't have the slightest clue what he's thinking. Min Yoongi has been known to be many things, but an open book isn't one of them.

He then walks in your direction until he's directly toe to toe with you for the very first time. Completely against your wishes, you feel all the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. You've never officially met before.

"It's nice to finally meet you __-nim. Those nods we give each other in the hallway hardly count as a proper introduction." He extends a hand to you, offering you a sturdy handshake which you accept.

"Absolutely, it's a pleasure to meet you as well Min PD-nim," you say, smiling warmly. "I'm looking forward to working with you on your new album. I truly appreciate the opportunity."

For a split second, Yoongi allows his professional demeanor drop. "I should be the one thanking you. You'll be the one leading this whole operation right? So I'll be in your care."

You want to respond with gratitude, but you're not given the chance due to an authoritative voice speaking up from behind.

"Min PD-nim," Hybe's Vice President calls out to the man in front of you, requesting his attention.

Yoongi is hesitant to leave you mid-conversation but you assure him that it's alright. "Please, feel free to take a seat," you offer. "The presentations will begin soon."

A small, subtle smile graces Yoongi's lips before he turns around to take his seat beside Bang PD at the head of the table. He engages in small talk with Hybe's Vice President who's conveniently seated across from him. Yet despite their conversation, he's only half focused; his eyes repeatedly wandering back to you. At this point, however, you've already stopped looking at him.

"Good morning, all," you address the room when the time comes to commence the meeting. "We'll be getting started now that everyone's here. I'm sending down samples of the album design our graphics team has created for D-Day. Please pass them along." You hand the stack of copies to Hybe's Chief Technology Officer who smiles courteously.

"On behalf of my team and me, I want to thank you for joining us today to discuss our marketing strategy for Min PD-nim's upcoming D-Day album. Our agenda will be as follows," you guide everyone's attention to the presentation board, which provides a rundown of all the points you plan to cover for the remainder of the meeting.

"Let's begin with introductions. My name is ___ ___, I hold a Bachelor's degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering from NYU Stern, as well as an MBA in Marketing. Over the past five years, I've worked in the music industry as a marketing manager. Three of those years were spent here at Hybe. The recent promotional campaign for TXT's The Chaos Chapter was lead by my previous team and me, resulting in a positive return on investment. Now, with a new team, I aim to achieve similar success with Min PD-nim's D-Day album."

Once you finish your introduction, you introduce each member of your team. This is soon followed by a brief introduction from each c-suite executive.

The whole room falls silent when you begin diving into the bulk of the proposal; every measurable objective, goal, and market analysis is shared for D-Day. When it comes time to present the brand guide and album design, you invite your graphics team to speak.

"You'll notice that we have two versions of Min PD-nim's albums on the sheet in front of you," Yi-joon refers to the mockups you handed out earlier. A few executives nod quietly as they study the proposed album packaging while Yoongi leans over to Bang PD. He's whispering something but you're far to distant away to hear. His expressions aren't telling either.

Does he like it? Does he not? You don't know.

Nevertheless, you give a subtle smile to Yi-joon as encouragement to continue.

 "We've opted for a sleek, pitch-black design for the first version, and a dusty brown for the second. The first version symbolizes the past, characterized by societal expectations and internal struggles, while the second represents the present and future, conveying a message of liberation. To complement these themes, we've selected a bold and daring font to exude the album's transparency. This design consistency extends to the album's contents; for instance, lyrical cards will reflect the respective color and style of the version they belong to."

Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer appears to be in approval with the entirety of the plan so far, yet it's short lived when a low voice interrupts.

"I think the vision of album's design aligns closely with mine, so I like what I see in front of me." Yoongi pauses and places the mockup on the table. "There's one aspect that I'd like to discuss in hopes of some insight however. I've been mauling over it for a while now."

"I'll do my best to–" Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer opens his mouth to respond yet closes it immediately when he notices Yoongi's gaze sharply shifts to you. It's a signal that it's your insight he specifically requests.

"Please go on," you reply.

"Regarding the name under which the album should be released, should it be 'Agust D' or 'Suga'? I'm personally biased towards Agust D because it holds more weight for me. It's close to my heart and the stories I have to tell as Agust D are heavier than those of Suga, right? The D even stands for Daegu, my hometown where I grew up and where my parents still live. Suga on the other hand is my stage name, which I have some identity in as well."

You don't answer immediately, preferring to carefully process everything he's said. Your team has already proposed to release the album under 'Agust D', yet he makes a valid point that 'Suga' is also a part of him.

"I understand that releasing the album under 'Suga' has its merit. However, I still support the original idea of releasing it under 'Agust D'. As you've mentioned, the name carries a deeper meaning, evoking memories, emotions, trials, and tribulations. I'd also like to emphasize that by releasing D-Day under 'Agust D', you can showcase who the real Agust D is. The collaboration with IU in People Pt. 2 already has you one step in that door."

Like you, Yoongi considers your words cautiously, weighing them in his mind. "Thank you ___-nim," he finally speaks. "Your perspective is reassuring. We'll proceed with releasing the album under 'Agust D'.

Following your short discussion, the graphics team continues presenting their design materials. Minor comments are made by Hybe executives, but Yoongi doesn't comment again until half-way into the social media segment.

"Why do we need to schedule this many Weverse Lives? People might get tired of seeing my face after so many in a row. ARMY will read, 'Min Yoongi started a live' and say to their friends, 'This is the fifth time in a row, is he in love with his own voice or something?'." His joke sparks a light in the room as Bang PD gives a chuckle.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue for you Yoongi," he replies. "Don't you know the strength of your own fanbase?" Bang PD's statement is undeniable. Everyone in the room is well aware of Min Yoongi's international fanbase who willingly stay up all hours of the night just to catch a glimpse of him. In fact, rather than seeing less of him, they hope to receive his live notifications more, as Yoongi isn't as active on Weverse as other idols.

It's clear that compliments like these aren't easy for Yoongi to take though, judging by the flushed look that subtly sweeps over his face. You'd react the same way to be honest.

"If I may Min PD-nim," you speak up, deciding to offer an alternative plan. "Leveraging Weverse Live to help promote D-Day will draw significant international engagement. We know that time differences pose to be a challenge which is why we proposed an increase of live sessions per week. However, we understand that going live this often might be exhausting. Would you consider reducing the frequency to once or twice a week instead?"

"I'm open to once a week but didn't we film the 'Suga: Road to D-Day' documentary for a similar reason? Won't it be too much to add more than two Weverse Lives throughout the entire promotional phase?" Yoongi's challenge is met with an unanimous hum of support from his fellow executives. You'd feel intimidated if you didn't already have a justification mapped out.

"The objective behind releasing 'Suga: Road to D-Day' on Disney+ differs from that of Weverse Lives," you rebuttal confidently. "While the documentary presents a structured behind-the-scenes view of D-Day's development, the Lives focus on building hype among your existing fans who know you well, will spread the word to their peers, and will likely pre-order the album. As you're aware, Lives are more personal and stripped down, allowing your fanbase to feel closer to you."

Thinking of no further objectives, Yoongi, still somewhat unsure, accepts your suggestion. "Once a week will be fine then. While we're still on the topic, do we know when 'Suga: Road to D-Day' is set to release on Disney+?"

"Our digital marketing and promo team will be reviewing the specifics of that soon," you inform. "Right now we have the documentary releasing April 23 of next year. The poster for the film will release a week and a half earlier on the 12th."

Rather than furthering the discussion, Yoongi sends an understanding nod your way which allows the social media team to resume their portion of the proposal. Recording more Weverse Lives than usual remains a pain point for him, but he's willing to move forward if it means connecting with his fanbase.

Alast, after what seems like three hours of social media; followed by financing & budget talk, the last team to present their material takes lead of the meeting.

"We'd like to provide a timeline for D-Day's promo schedule as a way to wrap up today's proposal," So-hyun from your digital marketing and promos team explains. "Promotions will begin April 10, 2023 and will run until April 25th. During this time the album's track list, concept photos, MV Teaser, and official MV will drop. As far as concert schedule, we're proposing April 26-June 24. These dates include U.S, Asia, and Korea Tours."

"We might need to rethink concert dates but for now I'm on onboard." Yoongi remains brief in his interjection, allowing So-hyun to continue.

"As far as other marketing channels, we plan to implement both print and digital methods including billboards, banners, paid search ads, and YouTube. We'd also like to reach out to a variety of magazines like Rolling Stones Magazine for interviews. If we want to extend our global reach even further, we can book a time slot on the Jimmy Fallon Show. Bare in mind that if we go this route, we'll need to decide fairly quick, as slots are in high demand."

You notice Bang PD whispering amongst Yoongi and his Chief Finance Officer when Jimmy Fallon is mentioned. Yoongi seems the least interested. Perhaps he isn't fond of being front and center of talk shows, you guess.

"When will we need a decision for the Jimmy Fallon Show?" Bang PD inquires for the group.

"No later than three weeks from now," So-hyun answers. "It's a tight deadline but it can been done if we get the official go."

Bang PD directs his attention to Yoongi who's chosen to be silent in this conversation. "What do you think, Yoongi? It's your call."

"Maybe," he says, "give me a day or two to think on it."

Another ten minutes of productive overview with your promos team pass and soon, you're standing up to adjourn the meeting. You have to admit that out of all the proposals you've given in your career, this goes right to the top.

Your team was phenomenal today, and despite the the fact that several Hybe executives are biting at the bit to finally go on their lunch break, you feel confident that everyone is leaving on the same page.

"Min PD-nim."

You're ears inevitably pick up the conversation in front of you as you make your way out of the conference room. Yoongi and his Chief Financial Officer are running through some quick numbers only a few steps steps ahead, but with everyone simultaneously rushing in the same direction, neither must have realized you were within earshot.

"There's no doubt that she's good at what she does," Hybe's Chief Financial Officer continues. "Still, it's hard to believe that she's only 27 or 28. A person should take better care of themselves don't you agree? Like our Eunchae for example."

If there was a way to erase what you just heard, you'd do so, because in an instant, all previous successes you felt from today's proposal shatters to the ground. You're no stranger to receiving these sorts of comments about your appearance, yet it leaves your confidence fleeting, along with any amount of resilience you've built.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, you exit the conference room the first chance you get. You have no desire to stick around for Yoongi's reply.

Not long after you leave does you phone ring off.

Tae 💚: Hey! How's the meeting going? Still available to get lunch this afternoon? I'm heading to the cafeteria as I type this.

You: It went okay. But I don't think I'll be coming to lunch, just a lot to do. I'm also not that hungry.

You second-guess how convincing your message is, knowing that it's your best friend on the other line. Regardless, it's the only words you can come up with right now. You really do have a lot of work ahead of you though, at least that part is true.

Tae 💚: Are you sure? I was looking forward on hearing how the meeting went! Wasn't there something you had to give me too?

The meaning of the last line suddenly dawns on you as you make your way down the long hallway. How could you forget? You made Taehyung one of his favorite foods to surprise him for lunch; Japchae, a sweet and savory dish of stir-fried glass noodles and vegetables.

You: Right, sorry it slipped from my mind for a second. I'll meet you in the cafeteria to give it to you.

"Why won't you stay and eat with me?" Taehyung devours the homemade Japchae you made for him with delight, a pair of chopsticks clamped in his hand.

"I don't have much of an appetite, Tae."

You've already told him this twice already, clarifying that you'd be heading back to your office once you deliver his food. Evidently, he's not letting you slip away easily.

"Then take a break with me instead, even if it's only for ten minutes." You watch as your best friend swiftly pulls out the chair next to him from under the table, gesturing you to sit. "Tell me what's got you down," he says. "Did Yoongi say something to you? He can be a bit too outspoken with his opinions sometimes."

Feeling defeated, you slide into the chair. "No, the meeting was fine. I'm just overthinking something that happened."

You then proceed to explain what you overheard Hybe's Chief Finance Officer say about you from earlier, that you didn't look healthy enough for your age and using Eunchae as an example. The scowl that appears on Taehyung's face as you retell the incident is unmistakable–he's clearly pissed.

"First of all," Taehyung starts once you finish, jaw clenched. "Eunchae is 17 and is a part of a Korean girl group. She has an entire team dedicated to making sure her appearance is flawless. It's the idol life; trust me, I'm well acquainted with it, so it's not a fair comparison. Secondly, Hybe's CFO is an asshole who I'd replace in a day. I don't want you letting him make you feel insignificant just because you don't conform to his narrow idea of how a woman should look."

You appreciate Taehyung's efforts to cheer you up, though you remain unaffected. Besides, he still isn't aware of Yoongi's involvement since you purposely left that detail out due to their close friendship.

"Yeah, I don't know. We don't have to talk about it anymore." You decide to dismiss the topic entirely and reach for your phone, along with a pair of earbuds bundled in your pocket. "Wanna listen to something?"

Music has always bonded you and Taehyung's friendship, as you've frequently found yourselves fully immersed in timeless songs from King of Leon and Led Zeppelin together. Taehyung nearly accepts the offer to listen with you once again, but then he freezes all movement. An eager grin follows close after.

"Hyung!" His voice echos though the room, earning the attention of Min Yoongi who's just entered the cafeteria. This time, you feel nothing but discomfort when the man looks your way.

"I have some material I need to review from my promo team. I'll text you later, okay?" You leave your best friend no time to reply as you quickly rise from your chair, stick your phone in your pant pocket, and head for the nearest exit. Yoongi attempts to make eye contact with you on your way out, but you avoid it completely.

When he approaches Taehyung, he acknowledges your semi-odd behavior. "I didn't mean to make her leave," he states, joining the younger at the table.

Taehyung offers a light shrug in response. "Don't worry, you didn't. She had other matters to get to. Something with her team members I think."

Yoongi grabs a fresh clementine from a nearby fruit bowl and beings peeling it little by little. "You two must be pretty close if you're having your lunches together."

It's not hard for Taehyung to read between the lines of what his member is insinuating.

"We've been friends for a while," he clarifies. "Just friends, nothing else."

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Lmk what you think 🥰

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfics #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #fic:thoseeyeschico #kookslastbutton

[daechwitatamic]

The Price || MYG

banner by @/itaeewon

The Price

Rating: NSWF - minors do not have my consent to interact Genre: Snow White and the Huntsman!au, angst, smut, unhappy ending WC: 8k

Summary: The Queen is responsible for everything you call yours: your home, your job, your freedom. You live without laying claim to anything else, lest the Queen leverage more in exchange for her grace. But the Queen has just named her latest price: the life of the young blacksmith, Min Yoongi.

Warnings: language, drinking, there’s a plague and it’s a problem, reader’s parents died (see the previous warning lol) and there are scenes of her grieving process, reader is a hunter so there’s mentions of animal carcasses and hides, lots of mentions of reader’s big fancy knife, a murder attempt, kissing, nip stim, groping, fingering, clit stim, penetrative sex (protection not mentioned either way), reader on top, angst, unhappy/ambiguous ending

A/N: Part of the Make Me Your Villain collab! Please give the other authors a lot of love!!! Huge huge huge thank you to @/here2bbtstrash for beta-ing!

//

Mirror, mirror - look and see. Who might take this throne from me? Mirror, mirror - who's the threat? Show me which boy's blood to let.

There are pros and cons to living outside the village. The pros are that you’re mostly left alone - you live by your own laws, most of the time. It’s better this way; you come and go as you please, you don’t worry about latest fashions or gossip, you aren’t under the thumb of any societal niceties or norms. You concern yourself more with what the forest tells you. Bad weather, humans who don’t belong, sickness on the horizon - the forest knows it all, and you know how to listen.

You knew about the plague - in a vague, something isn’t right here kind of way - days before the first villager fell sick. You didn’t see anything bigger than a possum for three days - you knew something was in the air. It was the baker first, then his wife. Now it’s made its way into the castle, the guards and servants falling like flies. 

Another pro - you won’t pick up illness from the baker if you make your own bread in your tiny cabin in the woods. 

The main con - the only con, really - is that when you make your weekly trek to the castle to present the King and Queen with your scores (deer, mostly, but usually a few fowl too) it takes so damn long to get there.

It would be faster on foot, much faster, but you have to load your kills onto a cart and take the dirt road, which winds and twists and takes its time. Today your cart is loaded: venison, fowl, a few rabbits, even a fox. That had been a good score. The Queen likes furs - she’ll pay you well for it.

But the trip into town once a week is a fair price for your freedom, you think.

A few vendors through the heart of town wave hello as you pass. You lift your hand in response but don’t stop. You’ll shop after, when your cart is empty and your purse is full. For now, you stay on the main road until it changes over from tamped-down dirt to cobblestone to, eventually, flat stone that leads to the bridge over the castle’s moat. 

The usual guard, the one who knows your face and always waves you through, isn’t there. You wonder if the plague reached him, if he’ll recover or if they’ll send his body to the sea like all the others. 

You show identification, the card nearly illegible due to how many times it’s been folded and stuffed into your shoe for safekeeping, and this new guard waves you on. 

As usual, you stop in the courtyard just inside the first set of walls. You hop down and start undoing the straps of the fabric you have over the top of the cart. Two guards join you, and they begin moving your scores down from the cart. Each is weighed and given a quick once-over as a scribe stands to the side recording it all.

“Make sure you mention how nice that hide is,” you tell him, pointing at the fox. “I got that one special, for her.”

The scribe rolls his eyes a little, but you see him peer at the fox and scribble something on his little parchment. When they’re done, your cart empty, the scribe rolls his paper up and leads you up the steps towards the main doors to the castle. You flip one of the guards a silver coin and follow the scribe. As you head up the steps, you hear the sound of your horse’s feet moving across the stone, the cart creaking and groaning behind him, as the guard you paid takes him to be cared for. 

Inside, you follow the thick, red carpet into the throne room. You’re surprised to see only the Queen present, but you school your face and drop into a bow anyway, your forehead brushing the soft carpeting. 

When you rise, you see the scribe has handed her the parchment, and she reads over the report of your goods. You wait, knowing better than to speak until she has. 

“A good week,” she observes. 

“Yes, your Grace,” you say, eyes on the carpet. “I was pleased as well.”

“Are you well?” she asks as she signals for her Chief of Coin, who scurries close to the throne and lowers his head to hear her whispers. 

“Quite well,” you say automatically, though you’re not sure what exactly she’s asking. Does she mean your health? Your home? 

The Chief of Coin makes his way to you and you pull your practically-empty purse from your back pocket. 

“You have need of nothing?” she asks. 

This would be your opportunity to ask after anything major - repairs on your home, medicine, anything you couldn’t get during your walk back through town.

“No, your Grace,” you say. “I had need of a new blade, but the local smith took my request.”

The local smith and your new blade are one of your stops on your way home. 

“I’ve heard from the citadel,” she tells you, and you pull your eyes away from the Chief of Coin to look at her. “They say your brother is doing well. He’s applying himself to his studies.”

When you’d lost your parents, you’d begged to keep your brother yourself, desperate to keep him away from the citadel’s orphanage. You were of age, could handle yourself. You could handle him, too, you’d argued. 

The King had considered this. Your family was well-known in the village, and your father had hunted for the crown for many years. Your brother was only about five years out from finishing his schooling. 

You were investments, you and your brother.

In the end, the deal had been struck - the crown would see to the rest of his education under the condition that when he finished he’d work for the crown, pay back his debt, begin to build his own name. 

And, in the meantime, you’d take over the hunting. You could keep your family’s little cabin out in the woods, away from town. Your brother wouldn’t be apprenticed off to a stranger.

It was an easy deal to agree to. 

“We’re grateful for the opportunity,” you say to the Queen. “If the report said anything less, I’d travel there to knock sense into him, myself. He’s at that age. You know.”

You try to bite back a cringe. The Queen might not know. She’d never been able to bear a child for the King. 

She smiles at this, thinly.  “Very well,” she says, and you take back your now-heavy purse from the Chief of Coin. “Then I shall see you next week. I wish you continued health in the upcoming days.”

You nod your head. “I wish the crown health and longevity,” you say. Head bowed, you miss the way her eyes tighten.

–

You pick up the goods you need - eggs, flour, and the like - on your way through town. You eye the tavern, tempted to stop for a pint. Alas, you are embarrassingly excited to get your new blade, so instead you carry on down the road towards the smithy. 

After tying up your horse - though he’s a lazy thing and probably wouldn’t wonder anyway, not with the cart hitched up - you head inside, following the sounds of a hammer striking metal. 

You wait until there’s a break in the noise and then shout a hey back towards the open door to let the team know they have a customer. 

There’s the sound of a heavy instrument being dropped to the ground, and you catch yourself smoothing your hair back. Stop it, you scold yourself, scowling. 

That’s the face that greets the youngest of the smithing team, Min Yoongi, as he steps into the shop, blinking as his eyes adjust to the light.

“Ah,” he says, lips curling into a smirk. “Is it Thursday already?”

“Is my blade ready?” you ask, ignoring both his self-satisfied grin and his question. “Park Jihoon said I could get it today.”

At his boss’s name, Yoongi’s smirk fades until he’s all business again. He turns to the wall, where special orders are tacked. He searches until he finds yours. 

“It’s ready,” he grunts, reading the slip of parchment. “Wait here.”

He disappears into the back again, returning with a hefty-looking blade, sheathed in a leather case. 

He places it on the counter between you, pulls the blade from its case and turns it over so you can see each side.

You frown. “I didn’t order engraving on the case,” you say, jutting your chin towards the delicate design at the top. It curls in and around itself, all the way around. “I’d better not have to pay extra for that.”

“Ah, but he worked so hard on it!” Park Jihoon says cheerfully, appearing out of the back and clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. You keep your eyes on the knife; Yoongi looks steadfastly at the wall with the orders, a pink flush working up his neck. 

“It’s not extra,” he mutters. 

“I’m heading to Bridgeport,” the senior blacksmith tells Yoongi. “I’ll be back before sundown. You’ll be okay here?”

“Of course I will,” Yoongi says, disgruntled. Jihoon nods goodbye at you both and moves through the door, leaving you in silence. 

“What’s the price?” you ask, placing your purse on the counter and digging for coins. He turns the paper over so you can see what his boss wrote, and you slide him the payment. You work on attaching the blade’s sheath to your belt, ignoring how Yoongi watches you through heavy-hooded eyes. 

You know that look. You are ignoring that look. 

“Lovely,” you say, once you’re situated and ready to go. You swipe up your purse and toss it once, catching it deftly. “Have fun pounding on metal, or whatever.”

His grin is razor-sharp. “I’d be happy to pound something else, if you want.”

The laugh rips out of you, unbidden and unwanted. “Disgusting,” you tell him, but the laughter takes the bite out of the words. “My God, you ought to throw yourself down the well for that.”

He lifts a brow, his smile turning less dangerous and more open.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “None of that today, thanks. I’ll be off.”

“Come on,” he cajoles, coming around the counter to follow you to the door. “You know you want some. It’ll be such a long ride back here when you change your mind later.”

“Keep dreaming, blacksmith,” you tell him, lips pursing in amusement.

He lays a hand over his heart like he’s wounded. “Blacksmith? You remembered my name just fine last week when you were -.”

“Well, I seem to have forgotten it again!” you blurt before he can finish the thought, pulling the door open. Over your shoulder you call, “Good day!” 

His laughter rings out onto the street, following you home.

Regretfully, you have to admit that out of everyone who lives in this village, built out from the castle’s western gate, you know the most about Min Yoongi.

You knew him in passing, of course - before. When you’d ride through this same village on this same cart, your little brother squeezed between you and your father. When you’d stand silently, peeking around your father’s side, while he took payment from the King for his scores. When you’d greet the peddlers and the shop-keepers politely before climbing back on the cart and riding all the way back home. 

Yoongi was just an apprentice then. You hadn’t paid him any mind. He was quiet, a bit scruffy, stayed close to Park Jihoon. He was no more interesting to you than the apprentice for the bakery, the tannery, the copywrite. Wasn’t even the best looking out of the bunch, honestly. 

He was just there, unassuming. He was there when you’d pass through town on the cart full of your father’s scores, there whenever your family had business with the blacksmith, there when the holidays rolled through and your mother dragged you into town in a dress you hated and shoes that pinched.

There the day your parents’ bodies, along with six others, were loaded onto a barge headed for the sea. There the day your brother joined four more young people from the village as they climbed into a deep blue carriage headed for the citadel. 

Yoongi’s dark eyes, cool and undemanding, had been on you as you stood fully alone for the first time in your life. 

You hadn’t paid him any attention then, either. You couldn’t pay mind to anything then except dragging yourself through dark day after dark day until, finally, the clouds seemed to part and your new life seemed bearable. And bearable turned into decent. And decent turned into enjoyable. 

The seasons turned. The hurts faded. 

And you began to pay mind to Min Yoongi.

You began to learn things about him, then - after. 

In your time around town, you learned first that he was good at his work - his blades were made well, easily as well as his master’s blades. You learned that he scowled and grunted but hardly ever meant it. You learned that he had a good reputation around the village - was known for helping his neighbors without being asked, known for being polite and keeping to himself. You learned that he had no family either, that the master blacksmith who’d taken him as an apprentice had more or less raised him, too.

Alone with him, you learned that his smile could be razor sharp, one side lifting and eyes glinting in a way that made your pulse sing. You learned that when he meant it, his eyes squeezed shut and his gums showed. His shoulders shook when he laughed. He made the funniest faces when someone said anything he didn’t agree with or didn’t understand. He’d grown strong, his craft shaping his arms and roughening his hands.

You learned that he took whiskey neat at the tavern when he was done working for the day. You learned that he had a smart mouth behind his quiet demeanor, and opinions about everything. You learned what he was willing and able to do with that mouth when he pressed you against the rough wood of the tavern’s side alley, and then later, back in his rooms behind the smithy. 

You learned that he fucked rough but loved soft.

And that was where it had to stop.

Because it couldn’t be - but this you knew the whole time. 

When he pressed his mouth to yours sweetly, stretching to reach you, brushed one lovely finger down your cheek and whispered, I want you, you knew this: it couldn’t be. 

There was no life for you in the village. There was no life for you as someone’s wife. There was no future for you as someone’s homemaker. 

Even if he could somehow give you partnership and love without taking away the wildness of your lifestyle - there was no love ready to bloom and grow behind your iron ribs. You had nothing you could give him back. You knew only survival. Only killing and coin. Only the forest and its secrets.

“You can’t have me,” you’d whispered back. “I am not to be had.”

You were surprised when he didn’t fight it. He hadn’t pushed back. He hadn’t held it against you, hadn’t been wounded. He’d accepted exactly what you were willing to give him and asked for nothing more. 

You know this, above all else: he’s sweet, and conscientious, and good. Yoongi is good.

You - forest-dweller, hunter, orphan, unmannered, uneducated - don’t deserve him. You aren’t enough for how good he is.

The royal physician’s face says it all. 

The Queen purses her lips, her eyes on her husband’s prone form. He meets her gaze weakly, too far gone to mask any of it. 

“How long?” she asks, the words clipped. 

The physician spreads his hands before him. “Impossible to say, your Majesty. Days, maybe. Weeks, if he can be strong.”

She scoffs. “Days it shall be, then.” She dismisses him with the wave of a hand. 

No one is surprised, she thinks. The plague would breach their walls eventually. Only the strong survive - of course it would be her husband who would succumb first, and quickly. He’d never been strong, not like her. 

After all, she was the one who tried all these years. She looked and acted the part of a partner. She was faithful. She focused on the crown, on the realm. 

Not like him.

He coughs as he shifts on the bed, and she looks at him again. Weak, she thinks again. She can only feel disgust for him, for everything he never gave her. 

“You’ll finally get what you always wanted,” he croaks. 

She turns to look out the window. The day is grey, dreary. 

“It seems I shall,” she agrees. Then she turns and walks closer to her husband’s sickbed - deathbed, perhaps. She drops delicately into the chair at his side and takes his clammy hand in hers. 

It might look as if she doted on him. It might look as if she mourned.

“What became of him?” she asks, voice even and unbending. “The boy.”

Her husband’s eyes crinkle with amusement, and the chuckle that rumbles from his chest is accompanied by pained coughing. 

“You truly are something, my Queen,” he says, shaking his head. “The boy doesn’t even know.”

He will say nothing else.

The Queen is delivered two things at once, not a week later.

The first, a gilded mirror, promised to possess magical ability.

The second, the expected news of her husband’s passing.

The realm begins its period of mourning, flags lowering, shutters closing. The Queen begins her incantations, alone in the southernmost tower of the keep.

The frame is made of ornately twisted gold, so heavy it takes two of her men to hang it for her. When they pull the dust cover off, she steps back to appraise it. 

“Pretty,” she observes, watching her own reflection in the glass - unmagical, unextraordinary. 

The swirling, green-hued mist doesn’t appear before her reflection until her men are dismissed, the door closing and leaving her alone. 

Your Majesty, the mirror intones, the voice coming from the depth of the mist. Your wish is my command.

The Queen pauses, considering. The throne, the throne - hers, finally, only hers. 

Unless.

The King’s last words to her ring through her head - the boy doesn’t even know. 

She raises her chin and chants, 

“Mirror, mirror, look and see…

Who could take this throne from me?

Mirror, mirror, who’s the threat?

Show me which boy’s blood to let.”

The mist, green and growing, takes over the glass. The Queen’s fists clench tightly at her sides. 

The mist clears. The Queen lets out a laugh, short and bitter. 

The blacksmith’s boy smiles shyly in the glass, one hand coming up as if to hide his face. 

The blacksmith’s boy. The king’s bastard. Her only threat, the only other claim to her throne.

Your next trip into town isn’t with a cart full of venison and fowl. Instead it rings more true to the holidays of old, with your mother in charge. You wear black and a scowl, just as you did then.

The funeral services for the King threaten to last the full day, maybe into the night. You wish you could abstain, but if ever there was an event you were obligated to attend - this would be it. 

You’re not sure what the King’s death means for you - for your brother. Will the Queen uphold the bargain? Does she still want your brother’s counsel, someday, when he’s of age? Without the King’s affection for your father, will she continue to allow you to live freely as part of the arrangement? 

You sit alone in the church pew; rather, you’re surrounded on either side by strangers. You know Yoongi’s in the crowd somewhere - you can feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. You don’t turn to look for him. What good would it do?

It’s well after dark when the town begins to file out into the night. Your stomach growls, and you ponder if you should stop for a hot meal at the tavern before making the trek back through the woods or if you can hold out until you’re safely back at home.

You’re stopped on your way out the door by a guard reaching across you, blocking your path.

“Her Majesty requests your audience,” he says gruffly, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand at attention. Your audience? 

It can’t be good. You’re sure of it. 

You don’t meet her in the throne room as you have in the past. Instead, the guard leads you to a small chamber off the chapel, a nondescript little room with no decor, only a table with a candelabra lit in the center. 

She’s seated, and it’s so cramped in the room that it’s hard to properly bow, but you do your best. 

“Is my brother well?” you blurt out as soon as the guard has closed the door behind you. It was the first, biggest concern you had - you couldn’t hold it in. Had something happened in the citadel? 

She inclines her head, shrouded in darkness. “I asked you here because I need something done. You seem, somehow, to be my best option.”

You duck your head, flooded with relief. “I’m at your service, as always.”

And you are. You owe the crown everything - the home you were allowed to keep, your brother’s education, your income. Your freedom, as conditional as it is. 

The Queen seems to think before she speaks, and when she does each word is short and deliberate.

“There’s someone I need gone,” she says, her voice giving away no emotion. No sign of grief from the widow, no sign of trepidation from the new ruler, no sign of regret from the human asking you to take a life. “A threat to my throne. I’ll pay five times our normal scale. And I’ll pay you for your discretion, as well, on an ongoing basis.”

You respond with silence. You can’t process quickly enough - you don’t know what to tell her.

The only thing you can tell her is yes. She holds your whole world in her hands. 

But if you tell her yes, then you have to do it. Can you kill a person, can you pretend it’s no different from cutting a rabbit’s throat? 

Could you tell her yes and then leave? Vanish into the forest? What would become of your brother, if you did? Would he be responsible for your sins?

Five times your normal price could do a lot for you. You could send finer clothes to your brother, help pay for his books, maybe even a little spending money. You could fix up the cabin - patch the roof where it leaks, reinforce the cellar the way you’ve thought about for years. 

And payment for your silence - ongoing? For how long, forever?

None of it matters. You can’t say no to the Queen.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you hear yourself say. Your stomach is a block of ice, turning over and over with the tide. “I am yours to command.”

You know it. She knows it.

“The blacksmith’s boy,” she says coolly, and you aren’t even surprised. It’s like part of you knew, somehow. Part of you has been waiting for this ending all along. Isn’t this exactly why you’d never let him get too close? There was never a happy ending in the stars - not for you.

She accepts your silence as acquiescence and adds, “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” you repeat, voice coming out too wispy. 

She meets your gaze, still cold. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you say, the only correct answer. But your mind is scrambling far away, getting ahead - what weapons do you have on hand, how will you do this -

“You didn’t strike me as softhearted,” she says, full of disdain.

“I’m not,” you defend. It’s just that it’s Yoongi. Yoongi, who sees your sharp edges and smiles because he knows firsthand how much sharp edges are worth. How - how - how can you? How can you pretend it’s just a hunt, just a necessity, when you know how his mouth tastes, how he looks at you like you’re something?

Her even look turns darker, a shade closer to a frown. “I know you have the stomach and skill to kill. And I know you dally with him. He’ll follow you - take him to the woods and be done with it.”

You haven’t been as discrete as you thought you had. You wonder who else in town knows about whom you dally with.

Not that it will matter, after tonight. Not if you follow orders.

Not when you follow orders.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you say, head bowed. 

There’s no other correct answer. Your freedom had always had a price.

–

There’s some poetic irony, you think, in killing Min Yoongi with the blade he made just for you. 

Your mind is stuck on this, circling it, unable to let go, as you approach the smithy.

The lights are out - there’ll be no late-night projects, not during the official mourning for the King. You hope Park Jihoon, whose quarters are above the smithy, just across the yard from Yoongi’s tiny cabin, sleeps deeply. 

You know Yoongi keeps a key in the eaves above his front window; you’ve seen him retrieve it no less than a half-dozen times - usually he’s reaching for it, his shirt rising and showing a slip of belly that you can’t help but run your hands across as he laughs and tells you to be patient.

You reach it on your own, tonight. You let yourself in as silently as possible, closing the door behind you, placing the key gently on his tiny, wooden table. His bed is in the far corner of the room, and although the fire in the hearth has gone out, you can see the lump of blankets through the darkness that show you his form.

You approach quietly, as you would approach a potential score, letting yourself slip into the mindset of surviving the forest. 

You hesitate when you stand over him. He sleeps on his back, the light from the streetlamps outside casting flickering yellow over his delicate features. His eyelids flutter. Next to his head, his fingers twitch. 

If you strike true, this could be over in an instant.

His eyes slide open, and a hazy smile drifts over his face. “Am I having a very good dream?” he murmurs. His eyes trail down your form and freeze on the knife in your hand. The smile fades, and his eyes meet yours again, a question in them. “Or perhaps a very bad one?”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. Then, you move at the same time - you lunging and plunging the blade into the spot where his heart lay, and him rolling sideways and hitting the floor with a thud.

You yank your blade free from where it pierced Yoongi’s empty mattress and wheel to follow him as he scrambles upright and towards the door. 

You should’ve locked it. You shouldn’t have apologized, your voice and your regret giving him the split second to bolt.

You follow him at a sprint, panting hard, as the fool runs barefoot through the smithy’s yard, heading for the forest. 

Your forest. 

It’s overcast tonight, threatening rain. No moon or stars to guide you, you follow Yoongi as he zigs and zags blindly through the trees. You have the advantage. You know where you are, even in the dark. 

It’s primal, as you forge deeper and deeper through the underbrush, just sinew and silence as you run. Wind whistles around you as you focus on breathing, focus on following the crunch of Yoongi’s wild path. The earth seems to rise up to meet each footfall with a jolting slap. The darkness seems to spur you on like it knows you need this, pressing you onward, telling you, hurry, hurry.

If you can herd him towards the east, you can cut him off at the ravine - he won’t be able to do it barefoot, not without stumbling, not without cutting those bare feet on the sharp rocks. You pick up the pace, emboldened by the plan, knees and elbows pumping as you close in.

Without warning, Yoongi stops short and wheels around on you, feet skidding a little on the loose needles that coat the forest floor. It’s so unexpected that the inertia carries you to him before you can tell your legs to quit. Before you can slow, before you can turn, he grabs you by the arms and slams you backwards into the thick trunk of an oak tree, hard enough to knock the wind out of you with an audible gasp.

You’re surprised enough that the knife drops from your fingers, and he wastes no time gripping you even tighter and throwing you to the ground, instantly dropping his body over yours and holding you down as best he can as you struggle. The blade lies just out of reach, taunting you, and you reach up and stretch as hard as you can to wiggle your fingers closer, but Yoongi roughly jerks your arm away.

You’re gasping for breath as you struggle beneath his weight, trying to keep your vision clear. This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to have to chase him, have to fight him. You aren’t used to this - the deer don’t fight back.

“Why?” he pants heavily, his whole body heaving with each inhale and exhale. Sweat runs down his neck from the curled, damp edges of his hair. His eyes are wild, confused above you.

“Do you know who your father is?” you respond in answer, and the question surprises him so much that he leans back, like he’s trying to get a better look at you. 

It’s all you need. You use your feet and your core strength to stretch just past where you couldn’t reach with his full weight on you, and your fingers close around the blade’s handle. In a flash, you have the sharp side pressing to the pulse point on Yoongi’s neck, hard enough that you know he can feel the sting, your other hand curling in his shirt and holding him still. His eyes widen and he freezes, straining to hold himself up and away from you.

“If you move I’ll do it, and it won’t be quick,” you hiss, teeth gritted so hard you’re sure they’ll crack. Your heart slams in your chest, adrenaline sending tingles clear down to your toes. You’re dizzy with fear. You aren’t sure what’s scarier - actually doing what you’re meant to, or having to report that you didn’t.

You’re both stuck there - a tableau, an oil painting, frozen for eternity, never moving on from this moment. A million possibilities stretch on as Yoongi’s pulse beats visibly against the knife he’d sharpened for you just days ago. 

You feel like you’re floating outside your body; you can’t feel any of it - not the knife’s handle against your palm, not Yoongi’s hips still pinning yours, not the sticks and stones beneath your spine, not the sticky humidity of a night on the precipice of storm. Not your own thrumming, frightened heartbeat.

You know you can’t do it - not this way. Not like this, not with his eyes on yours, steady, as if he’s not staring down his death. Not like this, looking into his face and remembering the first time you were under him this way, remembering every time after that. Your hand trembles as you will yourself not to pull the blade away. 

But he knows. Yoongi’s always called your every bluff, has always been perfectly capable of shooting you a knowing half-smile and pushing right past your blustering, always able to find the person on the other side of the facade - the person who’s scared,confused, alone. 

“No you won’t,” he murmurs, low, and there’s nothing accusing or mocking in it. He’s simply telling you what he knows. 

Slowly, carefully, he lowers his face closer to yours, so deliberately that the knife slides harmlessly along his skin until he’s clear of it. He presses his lips to yours, uncertain at first, then with more insistence when you don’t push him away. 

The fear and adrenaline crash through you in time with a not-so-distant crack of thunder, blinding you, rendering you thoughtless and animalistic. You drop the knife with a thud, barely aware that you’re doing it, your hand coming instead to tangle in his loose hair, clutching it tightly at the base of his neck and pressing his head closer to yours, kissing him deeper, needing to absolutely drown in his kiss. 

He grunts at your enthusiasm, nipping at your bottom lip before diving into you again, licking deep into your mouth and pressing his hips down into yours in rhythm with the kiss. You move with him desperately, the quiet of the woods scattered by your combined gasping breaths, tiny sounds of pleasure slipping through the cracks in your armor, the wet sounds of your mouths coming apart and meeting again hungrily. Despite the earth solid beneath you, you feel like you’re spinning. You clutch him tightly, one hand in his hair and the other arm coming around his shoulders, tethering him to you. 

He’s the only thing keeping you here, in the present, not skittering off to somewhere safe inside your head.

You let him hold you there, pressed between him and the unyielding ground below you, channel all the rushing adrenaline into how you meet his fiery kisses, pressing your mouth hard back against his like it’s a battle, into how you roll your hips against his, thrilling at feeling him hard and ready for you. But for all the intensity, for the dizziness sweeping over you, neither of you rushes - you kiss for so long that your lips tingle, your core throbs, the night grows blacker, the thunder tiptoes closer. 

You swipe your tongue over his familiar lips, whining in your throat when he opens for you again, welcomes you in, rocks against you and closes his eyes against the sting as you unconsciously tighten your fingers in his hair. 

Then he breaks the kiss, pulls himself free of your grasp, nudges his nose to the underside of your jaw until you lean your head back, breathing hard, giving him room to attach teeth and lips to the skin of your neck. 

He gathers a bit of skin and worries it between his teeth, muttering, “You won’t kill me. No one else can make you come undone like I do.”

The sound that tears out of you is half laugh and half desperate groan. “Prove it, then,” you goad, fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling the edge towards you. He releases the spot on your neck long enough to let you pull the material over his head. Then he sits back on his knees between your legs and looks you over, one hand absently sliding down the front of his trousers, pressing relief into his waiting cock.

“Yours,” he says, tone steely. You find your own hem with shaking fingers. Distantly, there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the canopy of tree branches above you before plunging you into darkness again. You pull your top over your head and drop it next to his, leaning back on your elbows.

All thoughts of what you’re supposed to do here have left you; there’s only hands-shaking adrenaline and instinct driving you to give in to your desires and pursue what you want - Yoongi, Yoongi, more of Yoongi.

“Trousers, too,” Yoongi tells you, voice quiet. His fingers are on the string of his own trousers, but his eyes are on your exposed chest. Hungry. 

You do as he says, untying your bottoms and pushing them away with your feet and waiting for his next move. The night isn’t cold, but you shiver. The forest, your forest, feels like a sanctuary, like it’s wrapping around the two of you and keeping you safe from everything outside. Like if you stayed in here, together, you might be safe from her after all.

But you know that’s a lie. 

You push the thought away by coming up on your knees and approaching Yoongi, who’s still kneeling, too. You press your chest to him with a shudder as you reach to kiss him again. He gives a quiet, happy noise low in his throat and you answer with a hum as you lick into him again.

You slip a hand between your bodies and find him heavy and leaking. He presses into your touch with a nearly-silent keen that you manage to catch, and you trace your fingertips up his length, playing in the wetness you find waiting for you at the tip, then pulling that wetness down to the base again. You repeat the motion, touch featherlight, and listen to Yoongi’s breathing hitch and catch and sigh as he closes his eyes and enjoys it. He’s silky against your fingertips, skin like satin even here.

Yoongi trails kisses down your jaw, making a clear path towards your neck, and he skims a hand up your side and past your ribs, cupping one breast and rubbing his thumb roughly over your hardening nipple. You gasp, fingers twitching against his length, which spurs him on. He runs his knuckles lightly over the bud, then takes it gently between his thumb and forefinger, giving it an experimental roll. Your gasped ah turns into a liquid moan and he does it again, harder. You keen, a note of complaint in it, as he repeats the movement that is somehow both too much and not enough. 

You wrap your hand fully around him, done teasing him with barely-there strokes, and roll your wrist once, twice, three times, his low grumbling reply music to your ears. He’s still mouthing at your neck and he switches hands, igniting sparks as he gently pinches the other nipple instead. Then he reaches and bumps your wrist out of his way as he cups your sex and spears you on his middle finger. 

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whine, rocking into his hand, trying to take the digit just a little deeper. 

He must hear the desperation in your tone or sense it in the way you clench around his single finger, because he takes mercy on you and presses a second finger in beside the first. You sigh, still rocking against his hand, as he fucks into the spot in your front wall that makes your eyes drift closed and your toes curl up. You abandon his cock, bringing your hands to his shoulders, hanging on to keep yourself upright. When he presses his thumb against your clit you groan, loud and long, no one to hear you, and let your head fall back.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, plunging his fingers in and out of your wet heat. You can hear it each time he pushes them back in, the sound ringing in the silent woods, the only competition the approaching rolls of gentle thunder.

He works you up until you’re panting, your forehead dropping to rest against his collarbone, your hips in constant motion as you seek more. Your arms are looped around his neck, though you don’t remember starting to hold him, and your fingers find the ends of his long hair, tugging lightly in time with his motions. Occasionally his thumb circles your clit, causing your hips to jerk, but the angle stops him from keeping it constant. He pulls his hand away, and you take a bracing breath, coming back to your senses as the sensations fade. 

He drops back from his knees, one arm behind his head as he lays back. He locks his eyes on yours as he strokes himself, his teeth toying with his bottom lip. 

“Come on, then,” he prompts, his hand languid and lazy on his cock. Your body buzzes as you climb over him and sink down, letting him fill you, stretch you, break you into pieces. You ride him hard, one hand splayed on his flushed chest for balance, as around you the wind picks up, the leaves on the trees fluttering.

Yoongi’s eyes screw closed and his head tips back, even as his hands continue to guide your hips through each rise and fall.

You slow, savoring the drag against your walls, savoring his pretty skin beneath your fingers, savoring the grunts and hitched breaths he’s trying to hold back.

You could have loved Yoongi. In another life, where you had chips to bargain with. In a life where you fit into place within the village, where wild wasn’t as necessary to you as air. Even if the Queen had never called for Yoongi’s head - this life never meant for you to love him.

This is what you think about as you lightly rake your nails down his chest, watching him squirm beneath you. You think about all the times he’d been on the edge of saying it.

You think about all the times the feeling had risen up in you, as warm as a patch of sunlit floor, and you’d had to blow it away like an errant dandelion seed.

Maybe you do love him. You just can’t forget - not for a second - how little it matters.

The knife sits where you’d dropped it before undressing, just past Yoongi’s head.

You could probably reach it now.

Yoongi seems to sense the change in your motions and cracks an eye open, his fingers on your hips loosening.

His gaze follows yours. A flash of lightning makes the metal shine for a split second, and then you’re surrounded by the sudden patter of falling rain.

“Guess we better hurry,” Yoongi mutters, reaching up to grip the back of your neck and pulling you down so your chest is flush with his.

All thoughts leave your mind as he hammers into you from below - the knife is forgotten. Your feelings are forgotten. The rain, starting to muddy up the ground around you, forgotten.

You cum around him in silence, jaw clenched, fingers digging into his biceps. The groan he lets out as you squeeze around him in waves is drowned out by a growl of thunder that feels like it’s right above you, all around you.

Yoongi pumps into you with abandon, suddenly losing the rhythm he’d created. He gives two more shuddery thrusts and then lets his arms flop to the ground with a contented sigh.

For a second, you both lay there, sweat-slick and panting. Another lightning splits the sky, and the rain comes harder. He slides out of you and you wiggle until you’re laying just next to him instead of on top of him.

You can’t stop looking at him. He seems determined not to look at you.

The rain washes everything away - the smell of sex, your sweat, your affection, your sadness, your pride.

“My father,” he murmurs beneath you, and you go deathly still. “Yes, I knew.”

You swallow, brush rainwater from your brow. “So does the Queen,” you say back. An explanation, and an answer to the why he’d leveled at you an hour ago.

He nods slowly, expression clearing with understanding.

You feel no absolution for it.

Finally, he leans his head back again, his bangs flopping heavily now that they’re saturated with rainwater, and eyes the knife.

You sit up. He brings his eyes to you and watches silently - as if he accepts whatever move you make. As if, should you reach for the metal, he wouldn’t fight you this time.

“Go.” The word tumbles roughly onto the inch of mud between you. You don’t remember making the decision to say it.

He sits up, elbows and shoulders caked with mud. But all he does is watch you, wait for you to change your mind.

“Go,” you repeat, meaning it. Now that you’ve said it once, now that the decision was made, you know it’s the right one. “I’ll tell her it’s done.”

You could never kill him. You both knew it all along.

He dresses wordlessly, and you do the same, pulling your top back over your head and tying up your trouser string. When you look up, he’s standing in the rain, watching you.

You stoop and grab the knife he’d made you. You grip it tightly in your hand, refuse to meet his eyes.

He’s not challenging you, not questioning you - and that, in itself, feels like a slap.

“You can’t come back,” you say, as evenly as you can muster. When he just looks at you, infuriatingly silent, you add, “You can’t. Okay? If she - she can never know.”

“I know,” he says, and then he gives you a long, searching look. He’s drenched now, and your hands itch to push his set hair away from his face, to use your thumbs to chase raindrops - you think - away from his lashline.

Then, choked, he offers, “You could -”

“Don’t,” you bite out, stopping him before he can make you any kind of offer. You can’t. You can’t go with him. You can’t disappear into the night. Your brother is counting on you. You won’t let him pay for your sins.

Yoongi shakes his head. He takes another step closer. Your fingers tighten on the knife’s handle.

“Y/N, I -”

You raise the knife above your head in a flash, eyes going wide in fury.

“Fucking go!” you bark.

He holds up his hands, takes a few steps backwards, giving up his quest to make this harder than it needs to be. Lightning illuminates him and above your head, the blade shines for a split second before everything is cast into inky darkness again.

When your eyes adjust to the darkness, trees around you forming a shape again, he’s gone.

You don’t follow him, and you don’t return to your cabin. You sink to your knees in the mud, dropping the knife onto the ground, and sob into your hands, the noise swallowed by the flurry of rain and the intermittent cracks of thunder.

—

You sleep. You hunt. When the time comes, you bring your scores to the Queen atop your wagon.

She doesn’t ask you about Yoongi. You don’t offer her anything, just thank her for her grace routinely when she orders your purse to be filled.

You don’t stop at the tavern on the way back home. You don’t stop at any of the shops - not this time. You don’t trust yourself to act right if Yoongi’s disappearance gets brought up. You don’t trust that no one will do the math that he vanished four nights ago, and now you’re a hollowed shell who can’t form words.

The townspeople have seen you grieve before. They’d know what they were seeing.

The next trip is easier, and the one after that even more. The Queen never thanks you, not that you expected it, but you start finding an extra purse of coins in your wagon each time you return to it after bringing in your kills.

The price for your silence. The price for what she thinks you’ve done.

It hurts the most when your wagon passes the smithy, but you keep your eyes on the cobblestones and your hands on the reins and eventually the hurt fades along with the village as you get farther and farther away.

The seasons turn. The hurts fade. You send extra money to your brother. You sleep. You hunt.

Eventually, you stop waking up from nightmares that feature the glint of metal. You stop waking up trying desperately to cling to your dreams as fruitlessly as clinging to smoke, left with only damp places on your pillow and the memory of a low, throaty chuckle ringing in your ears.

Eventually, you can ride past the smithy without the pang in your chest. You can stop for a pint without watching the shadows for the appearance of a gummy smile. You can laugh when the bartender cracks a joke, can sound like yourself when you ask the baker’s daughter how she’s been faring.

It is after one of these trips, deep into color-saturated autumn, that you return to your cabin with wagon empty and purses full.

Something isn’t right. You freeze, casting your eyes around the forest, but it holds its secrets tight.

On the ground in front of your door, illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight, is a brand new, shining blade.

thank you so much for reading!!! i really really like this one and i hope you do too!! <3

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi angst #fairy tale au #fic: the price

[citrustan]

slipping through my fingers [3] (myg)

title: the calm before the storm

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut summary: you're hit with some harsh facts that you aren't ready to entertain. warnings: [hi find the story masterlist here] insecurity, stubborn oc, ft. public enemy no. 2 (for now)

The restaurant took twice the amount of time they usually do to deliver your orders. On top of that, they ended up charging you a convenience fee for taking too long.

Taehyung was now on the phone, negotiating a refund or a discount from the place.

Meanwhile, you had tucked yourself in bed. You still had a lot to ask him. Now that you saw Yoongi’s girlfriend on his phone, you’re wondering if Taehyung’s close to her. It’d be awkward if they were.

On the contrary, you do feel a tad better at the idea that your friend was no stranger to the woman. For Nao.

Even though Yoongi would never bring anyone he didn’t trust wholly around your daughter, it’s an extra layer of security for Taehyung to know or know of her.

Taehyung walks into your room with freshly picked peonies in his hand.

“I still can’t believe you’re letting Nao meet her before you do.” He voices.

Still, you skip over the statement, “What is that in your hand?” Taehyung didn’t have those with him when he came.

“They’re flowers.”

“Yeah, they’re peonies. Like the ones Katarina grows. In her garden.” You observed, realisation hitting you slowly.

“Ok, what’s your point?” He pauses and sniffs the petals, “WOW, these are fragrant.”

A little agitated, you prop yourself up on your elbows, “My point is that you stole my neighbour’s flowers?”

It’s hard enough maintaining a flower garden in an apartment complex. You did not want to participate in ruining it for her.

Taehyung took offence to your accusation, “I didn’t steal! I bought them.”

Confused, you ask, “Why?”

“They’re for you. For your room. I thought you liked flowers.” He looks around your room.

Oh.

“Where’s the crystal vase I gave you?” Taehyung walks into your closet in search of it.

“Next to the shoes,” you trail off, “I think…”

You were used to Yoongi bringing your flowers every other week. But because he stopped recently, you put all your flower vases away in storage not wanting to be reminded of Yoongi’s flowers, or rather, the absence thereof.

Reemerging from your closet, he sets up the flowers on your bedside table. And you fall back in bed with a ‘thud.’

“Tae…” You trail off, lazily patting the spot next to you.

He joins you in bed, “Yeah?”

“Are you close with her? Like, are you friends?”

He carefully watches you.

Your eyes were trained to your ceiling but you could tell that his were on you.

“I met her at the gallery a few times. We went clubbing together. That… Do you remember when I invited you that one time?”

With your brows scrunched, you rapidly turn your head to face him, startling him.

“YOU INTRODUCED THEM?” You couldn’t control the way that came out.

“I didn’t intend to! I- I wanted you to meet her, but when you said no…” His voice faded off.

He looked like a kicked puppy. However, you were too riled up to stop.

Suddenly, you jump off the bed, feeling a rush of emotions. This was one of those moments when you could feel the blood pumping through your veins and hear your own heartbeat in your ears, and you couldn’t just lie still.  

You run your hands through your hair, “I can’t believe you introduced my ex to his WIFE.”

By enunciating every word, you tried to process this new piece of information in your own way.

You couldn’t help but wonder; Had you not refused to go out with Taehyung because of Yoongi being there too, is it possible that you and Yoongi would’ve ended up together instead?

It wasn’t Taehyung you were angry with. It was yourself. But you were in too deep and couldn’t help the words coming out of your mouth.

Still, you continue, “And you didn’t even TELL me about them.”

“And how long have Yoongi’s ‘other girls’ lasted? And what even was this? Love at first sight or some bull?” You’re pacing around your room. “You could’ve warned me, Taehyung.”

“What? What just happened?” He asks, mostly to himself.

Sitting up, he explains, “_____, I didn’t know. I didn’t know they kept in touch! He didn’t seem that into her!” Taehyung was visibly forcing himself to keep his voice down. His tone of speech still leaned towards comforting.

Holding Taehyung’s full focus now, you almost whine, “I don’t deserve this.” You point a finger at him, “Just answer me.”

After a long pause, he sighs, “What do you want to know?”

“Why did nobody warn me?”

“_____, you’re putting me in a difficult position here.”

“No, I’m not.” You dismiss immediately, “Why did none of you lot tell me about this new girl? Why was I so out of the loop? It’s like you were trying to exclude me because you like Yoongi more or something-”

“_____, YOU told us not to. That’s why nobody ‘warned’ you. You can’t get mad at US for respecting YOUR wishes.”

Flabbergasted, you gasp, “WHAT are you talking about?”

“You don’t remember? YOU told us to never update you about Yoongi.”

You shook your head.

You don’t believe him. “That’s stupid.”  

“I agree.” He nods.

“No. I mean, you saying that. That’s not right.” – “_____. You might not remember it, but you weren’t the easiest person to be around after you broke up with Yoongi.”

“I know. I was there,” you spat, spitefully.

Taehyung frowned, “This is why I didn’t want to do this.”

That pauses your train of thought. You don’t understand why he’d bring this up now. You knew you were a mess.

After Yoongi moved out of the home you shared, your break up was actually finalized.

After that, all your time went to your daughter. You were hyper-fixated on her and might’ve neglected other aspects of your life, but you’ve come so far that you don’t understand why he’d remind you of that again.

Mayhaps you should take it down a few notches. But your head was too full of anger to acknowledge his stance.

“Forget about it. Let’s not do this now,” Taehyung kindly suggests. “Why don’t we go down to the bakery?”

Anxiously scratching your neck, you declined, “Taehyung, no. Just… I really don’t remember saying that,” you spoke somewhat apologetically.

You returned to bed, plopping yourself next to him.

Gracefully accepting, Taehyung coos, “I know, angel. But that really is all I can say.”

Yet another moment of silence takes over your space.

You cleared your throat, “Is she a good person?”

Taehyung looked at you awkwardly.

Before he could respond, you add, “She seems to know about me, I want to know her too.”

“She’s okay.” He shrugged, making your smile a little. “Don’t try to flatter me…”

That smile doesn’t last very long though. Taehyung caresses your back as you navigate your emotions. “I want to cry but I can’t and I don’t know why.”

Taehyung opens and shuts his mouth a few times, debating whether or not he should say anything.  

You change the topic before he could, “Where’s the food?”

“I traded it for the flowers.” – “That’s nice.”

Taehyung remained by your side, his presence a source of comfort amidst the chaos in your mind.

Wordlessly, he offered a supportive embrace that you eagerly accepted.

As you sat there, grappling with your emotions, your phone abruptly rang, startling both you and Taehyung.

The caller ID displayed Yoongi’s name, and for a moment, your heart stopped.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ die 4 you by dean ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: ok this was probably a little boring but its imp background

this was supposed to be a part of the previous chapter but it got too lengthy so i thought i'd cut it out for a flashback later. but i think it makes more sense now.

! and i hope it answered some of your questions kinda

#yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #fic: slipping through my fingers #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #suga x reader #suga angst #min yoongi x oc #yoongi x oc #min yoongi x you #yoongi x you #dilf yoongi #yoongi dilf au #dilf bts #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #suga smut

[themininthemoon]

What’s Your Emergency?

CHAPTER 1 | AO3

Min Yoongi/Park Jimin | Firefighter YG | Nanny JM | Widower YG | Single Parent YG | FtM JM | Grief/Mourning | Getting Together

“You’re kinda. . .younger than I expected.” Yoongi says after a moment of awkward silence.

Jimin Park blinks at him. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile curling his lips.

“Did you think all nanny’s were just born middle-aged, matronly women?” He asks.

OR: Yoongi has recently moved to a new city following the death of his wife, Jieun. In searching for childcare for his son he finds Jimin.

“You’re kinda. . .younger than I expected.” Yoongi says after a moment of awkward silence.

Jimin Park blinks at him. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile curling his lips.

“Did you think all nanny’s were just born middle-aged, matronly women?” He asks.

Yoongi blinks.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it too hard before. When I called the nanny service and they said they’d be sending another candidate over, I guess I just assumed you’d be the same.”

Jimin nods.

“Most people do.” He sounds casual, but his hands are gripping his knees tight, expression softened into a frown without him realizing.

Yoongi frowns back.

“You don’t usually get the job.” He says.

Jimin purses his lips. He shakes his head.

“How many interviews have you been to?”

“Seventeen.” Jimin admits.

Yoongi nods. He sits back against the couch, settling in.

“Tell me about your credentials.” He says.

Jimin straightens to attention where he sits.

“You want to hear about my credentials?” Jimin asks, eyes wide with surprise.

“Of course I do.” Yoongi hm’s. “If you’re going to be watching my child I want to be sure you’re qualified.”

“I’m very qualified!” Jimin insists, scooting forward a little in his seat. “I’m CPR and First Aid certified, NICP certified, PNCP certified, and I helped my mother run a daycare for years! I know what I’m doing. I just need a chance.”

Yoongi takes this information in with an impassive expression, one arm along the back of the sofa where he sits.

“Why childcare?” He asks.

Jimin blinks.

“I– I’ve always done it.” Jimin says, like the question is strange to him. “My mom has run a daycare my whole life. I grew up there and then when I was old enough I worked there and I’ve never gotten tired of it. I’ve never– I love children.” Jimin shrugs, helpless. “I love watching them learn and grow and getting to be a part of that process. I love– love to see them explore and discover new things about the world and themselves and–and– I think. I think it’s a kind of magic to watch a baby grow into a toddler. To see them become a person all of their own.”

Yoongi nods.

He thinks.

He stands, slapping his calloused palms against his thighs as he pushes himself up out of his seat.

“Haneul should be awake soon; do you want to meet him?”

Jimin’s eyes are wide, glassy.

“Really?”

Yoongi nods, “Can’t hire someone he doesn’t like, no matter how qualified you are.”

“I— okay!” Jimin stands quickly, an anxious figure as he follows Yoongi down the hall.

Haneul is asleep when Yoongi pushes open the door to the nursery. He snores softly in his crib, head turned to the side. Yoongi walks over and reaches in, rubbing the baby’s belly gently to wake him.

Haneul huffs, blinking his eyes open.

Yoongi smiles, lifting his son from the crib. Haneul rests his head on Yoongi’s shoulder, immediately closing his eyes again.

Yoongi huffs, amused, eyes crinkling in a smile.

“Haneul.” He nudges, jostling the boy lightly in his arms.

Haneul opens his eyes reluctantly, squinting in the dim nursery, a tiny fist curled in the front of Yoongi’s shirt.

Jimin smiles, the grin unfurling across his face without conscious thought.

“He’s sweet.” Jimin says.

Yoongi snorts, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of Haneul’s head, pressing a kiss to his son's crown.

“He’s sweet now.” Yoongi says, shaking head, but his smile is fond. “He’s almost walking now. It’s—“ a shadow crosses Yoongi’s face. “It’s amazing to see.”

Jimin keeps himself from frowning. He doesn’t comment on the break in Yoongi’s words.

“This is a fun age.” He says instead.

“Yeah.” Yoongi agrees, a little wistful. He looks up at Jimin, adjusting his grip on Haneul. “Are you ready?”

“Ready—?”

Yoongi’s holding the baby out to him. Jimin’s eyes go as wide as Haneul’s, who’s kicking his legs in the air. Jimin takes him as soon as it registers, cradling Haneul to his chest. He settles against Jimin easily enough, wide eyes on Jimin’s face. Slowly, he reaches out, tiny hand on Jimin’s cheek.

“Ba!” He declares.

Jimin blinks, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Hello to you too.” He says.

Haneul proceeds to babble at Jimin for the next few minutes while Jimin nods and makes noises of agreement, a soft smile on his face.

Abruptly, Haneul turns to Yoongi, holding out his arms.

“Dada!”

“Finally remembered I’m here, huh?” Yoongi jokes as he takes Haneul from Jimin’s arms.

Yoongi nods toward the door of the nursery and Jimin follows him out and down the hall to the kitchen. He sets Haneul into his high chair then turns to Jimin.

“He seems to like you.” Yoongi starts and Jimin’s heart starts pounding, clenching his fists in anticipation, fingernails biting into his palms. “And you’re highly qualified, passionate.” Yoongi eyes him critically and Jimin swallows hard. “Can you start Wednesday?”

Jimin sucks in a sharp breath, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. He nods his head sharply.

“Yes! Yes, I can be here.”

“Excellent. Why don’t I feed him and we can talk a bit more before you decide to take the job — I keep weird hours.”

Jimin tilts his head to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a first responder.” Yoongi explains. “I work twenty-four hour shifts and spend some time on call.”

Jimin blinks. “That’s a long time.”

There’s a wry twist to Yoongi’s lips, “I’ve had five Nannie’s refuse once they heard the hours I keep.”

“That must be difficult.” Jimin says quietly.

Yoongi sighs.

“We just moved here.” He says. “After— my grandmother is in the area; she’s been a big help, but she’s getting too old to watch after a young child, especially for such extended periods and I can’t afford to delay my start date at the new station.”

“Wednesday.” Jimin says.

Yoongi nods.

“That’s three days from now.” Jimin looks down at his feet. “Would you be considering hiring me if you weren’t in such a tight space?”

Yoongi huffs.

“That’s not really a fair question — I’m limited on time, but I also care about who I leave my son with. I wouldn’t let just anyone take care of him.”

Jimin’s ears are burning.

“Sorry, that was a silly question to ask — I should be thankful you’re giving me a chance.”

“It’s okay. You’re fi—“

Haneul starts fussing from his high chair and Yoongi curses under his breath, turning sharply on his heel.

“Sorry, bud. Daddy didn’t forget about you.”

Jimin watches Yoongi put Haneul’s lunch together, a small plate of leftover rice and scrambled egg and some honeydew.

He’s going to get more of it on himself then in himself, but Jimin is sure Yoongi knows that.

Yoongi turns back to him, wiping his hands off on a towel he discards to the counter.

“What do you do?” Jimin asks, curious. “I know you said first responder, but that could mean a few different things.”

“Firefighter/EMT.” Yoongi says, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

The stance emphasizes the muscles in his arms and Jimin thinks, yes, I can see that.

He blinks the thought away.

“That must be a difficult job.”

Yoongi shrugs, “All jobs are in their own way.”

Jimin arches a brow but doesn’t disagree.

“So, do you want the job?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin thinks about it. Twenty-four hours is a long time to be “on”, but he and Haneul will both sleep for part of that time.

“Where will I sleep?” Jimin asks, the thought breaking through.

Yoongi turns sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t have a guest room,” He admits, “but I don’t mind you using my bed.”

Jimin blinks. Considers the intimacy of that before deciding it’s fine.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Jimin nods.

“I’ll take the job.”

A whoosh of air leaves Yoongi’s body in one long push, deflating him in relief. He sighs and builds himself back up to smile at Jimin.

“Thank you.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“Thank you.”

*

Jimin tosses and turns Tuesday night, unable to fall asleep. His nerves have him up at four in the morning, fully dressed with a bag packed, ready to spend twenty-four hours with his young charge. His leg shakes and his coffee grows cold, sitting untouched between his warm palms. The alarm on his phone goes off at five-thirty and he jumps in his seat, quick to silence it, looking behind himself to check that his roommate hasn’t been disturbed.

The fan continues to whir in Taehyung’s bedroom.

Jimin sighs in relief, knowing Taehyung keeps late hours. He stands from the table and pours his coffee down the drain, rinsing the mug before putting it in the strainer. He heads for the front door, pulling on his sneakers and grabbing his bag and keys before heading out.

It’s a thirty minute ride to the Min house.

Jimin drives in silence. His hands sweat on the steering wheel.

It’s his first real job since being contracted with the agency.

He pulls into the driveway at the Min residence and the lights are already on, a shadow moving past the blinds. Jimin gets out of his car and is careful to shut the door quietly, not wanting to disturb the neighbors.

He knocks on the door quietly too.

Yoongi opens the door in his uniform, dark blue button up with a pocket on the front, his last name embroidered on a patch on the right side. He’s wearing a matching pair of Dickies.

“Jimin, hey, come in.” he ushers Jimin through the door, a little urgency in his tone. “He’s still asleep — do you think I should wake him for the transition or let him sleep?”

“Oh, I—“ Jimin’s in the middle of pulling off his sneakers, bag on the floor beside him. “You should probably wake him. We don't want him to wake up later with a stranger and no idea where you are.”

Yoongi nods decisively and heads down the hallway. A moment later Jimin hears crying. Yoongi and Haneul appear in the hallway, rocking to soothe the baby’s tears.

Jimin’s standing in the middle of the living room, waiting as they approach.

“It’s okay, buddy, look who’s here,” Yoongi coos. He turns Haneul towards Jimin and Haneul begins to quiet. “That’s right it's Mr. Jimin; he’s here to stay with you today.”

Haneul’s cries have stopped as he stares curiously at Jimin. He reaches his arms out, making grabby hands, and they transition the baby from one set of arms to the other without fuss. Haneul rests his head against Jimin’s collarbone and closes his eyes.

Yoongi smiles, a little wistful. He darts in to press a soft kiss to the side of Haneul’s head before grabbing his duffel bag from the sofa and heading for the door. He mouths a ‘thank you’ before leaning down to lace up his boots.

He’s out the door moments later and Haneul is asleep against Jimin’s chest.

“Let’s put you back to bed.” Jimin murmurs.

The next two hours give Jimin time to familiarize himself with the house, opening cabinets in the kitchen and checking drawers, giving himself the tour Yoongi probably should have before leaving Jimin with the baby for twenty-four hours.

Jimin doesn’t stew on the thought for long, knowing Yoongi must have been stressed about the situation and eager to start work on the right foot.

He understands.

So, he finds the baby food and the formula, the toys in the nursery and where the diapers are kept, getting to know the house and its occupants before the first cries pierce the calm of the morning.

*

Yoongi opens his text thread with Jimin and looks at the picture of Haneul in his crib again. He’s sleeping, lips parted slightly, and Yoongi can practically hear his son’s soft, snuffling snore.

“What’re you looking at Min?” One of his co-workers – Williamson – asks, sidling up beside Yoongi with an apple in his hand.

He’s the friendliest of Yoongi’s new co-workers by far.

Yoongi clears his throat.

“Uh, my son, Haneul.” He says, turning his phone to show off the photo.

“He’s cute.” Williamson says, taking a bite of his apple. “He at home with the wife?”

Jieun’s face flashes through Yoongi’s mind. He shakes his head.

“Nanny.” He says, “My, uh, wife passed away.”

“Shit, I’m sorry man.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi looks back at the picture of Haneul. “Me too.”

The bell goes before the conversation can continue and Yoongi rushes to the ambulance bay, climbing up into the passenger seat beside his new partner, Namjoon.

“How’s your first day treating you?” Namjoon asks conversationally as they make their way to the call.

“Good,” Yoongi says, nodding to himself. “It feels good to get back in the saddle.”

“Yeah? How long were you out?” Namjoon asks.

“Ten months?”

Namjoon fails to hide his surprise.

“That’s a long time. What were you up to?”

“Taking care of my son.” Yoongi says.

“You’ve got a kid?”

Yoongi nods, “Haneul. He’s ten months old.”

“Ah, gotcha. You took care of him while the wife worked?”

Yoongi holds back a sigh.

“She’s dead.” He says.

Namjoon’s head snaps around to look at Yoongi, eyes wide.

“Shit, sorry.”

“The road, Namjoon.” Yoongi reminds him.

Namjoon flushes, turning his attention back in front of him.

“Sorry.”

Yoongi shakes his head, a little amused.

“It’s okay.”

They’re quiet for a long moment.

“What was her name?” Namjoon asks, tone gentle.

“Jieun.” Yoongi clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “We met at the hospital.”

“Yeah? Dropping off a patient?”

“Dropping me off.” Yoongi laughs quietly. “Ice on the ladder and I took a nosedive. Got a grade three concussion.”

“Damn.”

Yoongi nods.

“She was my EEG tech.” He says with a little smile. “Apparently I was real discombobulated. I was out of work for almost two months.”

“Post-concussion syndrome?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Thankfully not.”

“That’s good.” Namjoon nods. He turns the wheel and they park in front of a pale blue bungalow. He puts the rig in park. “Let’s get to it.”

*

“So your wife’s dead?”

Yoongi startles, fumbling the tangerine he’s been peeling.

It’s three in the morning.

He turns slowly around to find the station’s probie looking at him with wide, curious eyes.

“What.”

“I heard it from Williamson.” Jungkook says, still with that earnestly curious gaze.

Yoongi turns back to his tangerine.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” He asks.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Jungkook asks, taking the seat beside Yoongi at the dining table in the station kitchen.

Yoongi eyes him skeptically.

“She died ten months ago.” He says.

“That’s not very long.”

“No. It isn’t.”

They’re quiet. Yoongi eats a few sections of his tangerine.

“My mom died.” Jungkook offers. “It’s been a few years, but still. I mean– I kind of get it.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you miss her?”

Yoongi sighs.

“Is this how you make friends, Jungkook? Asking emotionally draining questions?”

Jungkook is quiet.

“Sorry.” He mumbles.

Yoongi feels bad.

“Of course I miss her.” He says, “I miss her every day.”

Jungkook nods.

“I miss my mom too.”

Yoongi knocks their shoulders together.

“Do you want one of these tangerines?”

*

Hot water sluices down Yoongi’s body, taking the past twenty-four hours with it. He rushes through his shower, eager to get home to Haneul. He dries off perfunctorily and puts his civvies on, waving goodbye to his new coworkers as he makes his way out to the parking lot.

Pulling into his own driveway is a relief.

Yoongi sits in the front seat of his car for a long moment, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slow before grabbing his duffle bag from the backseat and opening the door to climb out. He lets himself into the house and is hit by a wall of sound. It resolves itself into music after a second, some old-fashioned crooner coming from the kitchen. He follows the sound and finds his nanny in the kitchen, dancing in front of Haneul in his highchair.

Jimin has a spatula held up to his lips like a microphone, singing along to the music. Haneul giggles, clapping his hands together, and Jimin beams, reaching out to wipe a bit of scrambled egg from Haneul’s cheek.

He spins in place.

He screams as his turn faces him toward Yoongi.

Yoongi jumps at the sound, eyes wide.

Haneul begins to cry.

Jimin rushes to turn the music down, turning the stove off before moving back to Haneul, lifting him out of his highchair to shush him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He soothes, hand rubbing Haneul’s back, “Your daddy scared me.”

“Sorry.” Yoongi says.

Jimin waves him off.

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting to see you there.”

“In my own house?” Yoongi teases.

Jimin purses his lips. “I lost track of time.”

“I’m just kidding.” Yoongi assures him.

Jimin nods, still swaying with Haneul in his arms.

“He seems to like you.” Yoongi says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Jimin looks down at Haneul and smiles.

“I think we’re getting along pretty well.”

“He behaved then?”

“As well as a baby can.” Jimin says.

Yoongi huffs, amused. He reaches his hands out.

“Give him here.”

Jimin passes a happy Haneul over.

As soon as he’s in Yoongi’s arms he begins to cry. Yoongi looks up, bewildered and Jimin laughs.

“He just missed you!” He says over the desperate wailing.

Yoongi sways where he stands, cradling Haneul to his chest. The baby’s cries eventually taper off, but his tiny hands cling to the front of Yoongi’s shirt.

“I mean it.” Jimin says, catching Yoongi’s attention. “Kids are like that: fine all day and then mom or dad shows up and it suddenly hits them that they’ve been apart so they cry.”

Yoongi nods, pressing a kiss to the crown of Haneul’s head.

“Thank you.”

Jimin nods.

“Yeah, I—“ He looks around, grabbing his phone off the kitchen counter. He turns to Yoongi. “There’s eggs — I wasn’t sure what you liked—“

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“—but I was cooking for myself anyway.”

“Thank you.” Yoongi says after a pause. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Jimin rocks back on his heels. “I should probably go.”

“Yeah, of course.” Yoongi gestures toward the front door. “You’re free.”

Jimin laughs, ducking his head.

“Yeah, okay.” He rubs Haneul on the back. “Bye Sweet One, I’ll see you in two days.” Jimin takes his hand back, offering Yoongi a smile. “I’ll see you Saturday, Mr. Min.”

“Yoongi’s fine.” Yoongi says. He clears his throat. “See you then.”

Jimin nods, smiling. He goes and grabs his bag from the couch and heads out the door.

*

“How was it?” Taehyung asks, sitting at the kitchen table when Jimin gets home.

Jimin jumps, startled. He drops his bag by the front door.

“You scared the shit out of me.” He grumbles, hand to his chest as he kicks off his shoes.

“Sorry.” Taehyung says, not sorry at all. “How was it?”

“Fine.” Jimin says. He pauses to think. “Good, actually. It was– really good. Haneul is the sweetest baby and Mr. Min was nice.”

“That’s good.” Taehyung nods decisively. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.” Jimin sighs, heading for the kitchen to join Taehyung at the table. He takes a seat. “I can’t believe I finally got a steady job.”

“I always believed in you.” Taehyung says.

Jimin arches a brow.

“So you’re not the one who downloaded the indeed app on my phone?”

Taehyung purses his lips. “No comment.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, amused.

“You’re terrible.”

“I just thought you might want to try a different career path.”

Jimin rolls his eyes harder.

“Childcare is literally all I’m qualified to do.”

“You could teach!”

Jimin wrinkles his nose.

“No thank you.”

Taehyung huffs.

“Well it doesn’t matter now – you’ve got Mr. Min paying you good money.”

“Twenty dollars an hour.” Jimin agrees.

“Still not as much as me–” Jimin rolls his eyes again. “--but I know it’s better than most nannies.”

“Not everyone can be a programmer.” Jimin says.

“Of course not. You have to be uber smart, fun, and beautiful.” Taehyung says, hands held out to his sides in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. “Which is why I thought you should have done it with me.”

Jimin laughs, knocking his foot into Taehyung’s under the table.

“You’re annoying.”

Taehyung puffs up, proud.

“The most annoying.”

Jimin can’t help but smile, shaking his head.

“Whatever. Have you eaten?”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“Yeah? Me neither. You good with eggs?”

“I thought you’d eat before coming home.” Taehyung frowns.

“I was going to, but Mr. Min came home earlier than I thought.”

“Oh, was he mad you were cooking?”

“Oh, no! I just– I thought I best get home since he was there to take over.” Jimin explains as he stands from the table and heads for the fridge. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

Taehyung shrugs, watching Jimin pull out a few eggs.

“You should just ask him if it’s okay next time.”

“This is my first real job, Tae.” Jimin sets the eggs aside on the counter and reaches in one of the bottom cabinets for a pan. “I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “You’re not gonna fuck it up. You’re great with kids.”

“Let’s hope Mr. Min thinks so.”

Ch 2.

#my fic #wye #yoonmin au #yoonmin fic #yoonmin fanfiction #ym au #ym fic #ym fanfic #top myg #top yoongi #trans park jimin

[namchyoon]

why 

#btsgif #btsedit #bts #kim namjoon #min yoongi #namgi #namjoon #yoongi #* #*gifs #*knj #*myg #*namgi #*bts #run bts #run bts next top genius part 2 #@ yoongi: that was so umprompted bestie????

[sugakookiesbutbadass]

grapefruit yoongi my beloved

#run bts #run bts next top genius #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts meme #kpop #kpop meme #yoongi #suga #min yoongi #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi meme #suga meme #cute yoongi #grapefruit yoongi #grapefruit suga #myg

[shadowkoo]

Baby Maker

→ Summary: You and Yoongi have been relishing the comfort of your newly married life, savoring each moment together. However, there's an additional want tugging at your heartstrings – the thought of becoming a mother. That’s right, you want a baby. Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s ready for the journey of bringing a baby into your lives. But he’ll agree to anything that makes you happy, and if it’s a baby you want, it’s a baby you’ll get.

↠ myg x f.reader | 1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: slice of life, romance, fluff, smut, newlyweds

→ Warnings: unprotected sex (intentional), daddy kink, impregnation kink, deep dicking, belly bulge, oral (female receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie

→ Author note: This is a remix/update of an older fic of mine, so I hope you enjoy the newest version! If you'd like to read this on ao3 instead it's been crossposted here! And as always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

You wrap your arms around your husband the second he walks through the front door of your home.

"Mmm, I've waited all day for this," you whisper before pulling him into a long kiss. One of your hands cradles his cheek while the other plays with his hair.

"Well, hello there Mrs. Min," Yoongi says with a sideways smile sprawled across his face after pulling away, "What's got you in such a good mood?" He takes off his blazer and sets his work bag down on the bench in your entryway as you pull him into another lengthy kiss, one that makes Yoongi's groin stir with excitement.

You smile up at him and start to unbutton his top as you pull him further into your home, your end goal being the bedroom.

"Baby?" he asks with dark eyes, "Are you planning on spoiling me with dessert before dinner tonight?"

You laugh, "Baby, I don't want dessert... I want a baby."

Yoongi's face changes from one of eager anticipation to confusion, then to pure and utter shock.

‘Did all the air in the room suddenly disappear? Why aren’t you having trouble breathing like he is?’

"I want to make a baby with you," you repeat, looking into his fear-filled eyes. You figured he'd be a little freaked out, but not this much.

He coughs and sputters, pulling at the neck of his button-up shirt. "You, uh, b-baby?" Yoongi mutters once he’s able to form words again.

"Yes, a baby," you took a step back from him. "It's been almost three years since we've gotten married and talked about having kids in the future. Don't you want a mini you or me to love, to watch them grow, to teach them stuff?"

Yoongi is conflicted, not because he doesn’t want kids –he does– but it scares the shit out of him. That's a whole life to take care of and be responsible for. He knows how much you want a family though, and how patient you have been with him about trying for kids.

You give him that one look - the one that you know will get you whatever you want.

"Alright,” he says, easily won over. “Let's make a baby," he answers while pulling you back into his arms.

Yoongi brings your center up against his. You feel his growing hardness pressing into you through his jeans, and moan through the kiss. You want him.

And he wants you.

His kisses are hot and needy, but somehow still so very loving.

Yoongi lifts you up and carries you urgently the rest of the way to the bedroom, where he lays you down, ready to fuck you. To love you.

Your hands work on his shirt's buttons, undoing them as fast as you can. His run along your hips, making their way to the front of your jeans where he works to undo them, and slips them and your panties off simultaneously.

Your husband keeps eye contact with you while one of his hands slides slowly up the inside of your legs, right up to the edge of your dewy folds.

“Is this pretty little cunt ready for me?”

You nod frantically, and moan uncontrollably when his tongue dives deep into your core. He savors you, his tongue playing your clit like it's the most intricate instrument.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you hold his head in place while he finished you off. You come undone all over his face, his cheeks showing evidence of your release once he pulls away from you.

“I’ll never get tired of your taste,” he breathes. And it’s true, you’re intoxicating. He’s addicted to you.

Yoongi stands up, pulling you towards the edge of the bed, where he then rubs his throbbing cock through your folds, wetting himself just enough to dip into you.

He nearly loses himself, but manages to power through and find a rhythm that has you both heading in the right direction.

His low moans sound like heaven to your ears.

You pull him closer to you until your lips crash together, moaning into each other's mouth while you climb higher and higher.

Needing to sink even further into your heat, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, pounding you from a new angle and bringing you closer and closer to the release that you crave.

“Who’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow? Who’s putting this baby in your belly? I want you to scream my name,” he demands.

“You did,” you pant. “Min Yoongi did.”

“Fuck!” Yoongi grits his teeth as he watches the way your lower belly bulges, matching his hard thrusts.

"I’m so close,” you cry out, your nails digging into your husband’s biceps. “Cum in me," you whine, pleading for him to release into you. Yoongi is more than happy to oblige.

"I love you,” you breathe as the waves of pleasure wash over you, the tingling spreading through your veins.

“I love you more.” Yoongi grunts, his final thrusts becoming more sporadic as he passes the peak, and fills you with his seed. His face twists in pleasure as your pulsating walls milk the last from him.

You’re satisfied feeling his warm release shooting up inside of you. A big grin won’t leave your face, “Thank you.”

He considers making a dick joke, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “You’re welcome, baby,” he says, kissing your cheek.

You roll over onto your back and lift your now tired and heavy legs in the air, and Yoongi gives you a perplexed look. "What?” you ask, "I've heard that this makes the sperm find the egg faster."

He thinks you look ridiculous in the best sort of way, and joins you. "I gain nothing from this but I figured I'd do it to support you."

"You're such a dork." But you love him for it.

"You know what you have to call me later if this worked?" Yoongi asks before answering his own question before you even have the chance. "The baby maker."

Your giggles filled the room and Yoongi can’t help but laugh along with you.

"Alright," you sighed once you calmed down, "I just figured you preferred daddy..."

That same look from earlier flared up in Yoongi's eyes once again, "I'm open to negotiations."

©shadowkoo 2023. All rights reserved.

#kvanity #myg #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #myg smut #yoongi oneshot #yoongi drabble #yoongi au #suga fanfic #suga smut #suga au #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts drabble #bts smut #bts oneshot

[sugarwithtea]

bounty (m) | myg [teaser]

bounty (noun) : a sum paid for killing or capturing a person. if there was one person who annoyed you the most, it was min yoongi. but what happens when he calls you after escaping someone hired to end him? a dance, which ends in a surprising way.

pairing ; gang leader!yoongi x thug!reader (f)

rating/genre ; m (18+)//smut, angst (minor), enemies to ???

wc ; for the teaser - 470 // for the fic - 4k+

warnings for the teaser ; guns, swearing. for the fic ; explicit smut in public, knives, mentions of death, gore, murder (main characters) and many more!

note ; tread with caution ⚠️ the teaser is mild but the fic won't be (it will be very dark!) also, happy d-day dropping everyone hehe!! thanks to @cowboylikeyoongi for helping me with smth very major!!!! please let me know if you wanna join the taglist for this!

masterlist | taglist

You stand straighter, putting your hands on your waist and chewing the end of the cigarette in your mouth. You survey the area with squinted eyes, pushing your thin jacket behind to reveal your black tee and the gun, with which your finger toys.

You had heard of this place, and how there was a big bounty on the leader of the gang who ran the place. They were dogs, fiercer than wolves, but still fucking cowards. Your boss had asked you to stay clear of the massacre, something about leaving the lowly on his own. And you obeyed, for Min Yoongi was a man who riled you up so much, that anger always lived on your nose – and the tip of your tongue.

The way you were called into the yard, you assume whoever tried to get the meaningless bounty had failed. You shake your shoulders in amusement, and take another drag from your cigarette, kicking the dust at your feet. One more minute, and if he doesn't show up you are getting the fuck out of here.

It's as if the universe heard your thought and plotted against you returning because as soon as you turn back towards the raging fire, a hand wraps itself around your neck and pulls you behind. You let out a loud snort of amusement around the cigarette as you are pulled into a hard chest, his arm around your neck and breath on top of your ear. You quickly pull your cigarette out with one of your hands and exhale, letting the smoke fog you.

As soon as you register his breath, a hard thing pokes you on the base of your throat, and you look down to see the muzzle of his gun at your throat, pressing into your skin. His arm is right above it, and you see the way his fingers wrap around the trigger guard, away from the actual trigger. You scoff at it – still a coward.

He pushes the muzzle deeper into your skin, and you feel his chest going up and down, as his hand around your neck brings you so near him, that you feel him mold against you. You arch an eyebrow and tilt your head, a laugh leaving your lips.

"Hello to you too, Yoongi.'' He hated it when you, or anyone called him Yoongi, so you did just that. He doesn't want to be related to his family, or have a semblance of their relationship with him. And there was one thing that could erase it – his name. So he changed it to Agust D.

"You came?" His voice is gruff against your ear, and you don't miss how deep it is, just like the ocean. You take a deep breath and exhale, before speaking again with a delayed snort.

"You called?"

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© sugarwithtea. do not repost.

#yoongi #yoongi smut #suga smut #yoongi angst #suga angst #min yoongi #bts smut #bts angst #myg #agust d #btswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtantheatrenet #micdropnet #bangtanbathhouse #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi mafia

[c0llisiion]

Hihi, Idk if requests are open. But can you do Suga x fem!reader where he fucks her while her hands are behind her back…maybe degrading and dumbifaction. Possibly edging?? If you’re comfortable. ily !

FAVOURITE — M.YG

★Pairing: min yoongi + f!reader

★Genre: smut

★: not proof read, mean dom!myg , office!au , office sex , unprotected sex (practice safe sex!) , bondage , pussy slapping , fingering , dumbification , slight edging , name calling , nicknames — lmk if i missed any! ^^

★W/C: 1,479

A/N: hiii!! Sorry if this took so long 😭 tysm to user for sending me this! I had sm fun writing it! I hope it checks out all that you wanted 😞🥰 enjoy!!!

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The bundle of files came flying at you, hitting you on the chest, The impact made you stumble back a bit. “Are you fucking stupid???” Yoongi spat at you from behind his desk. An angry scowl was plastered on his face. He slammed his hand on the desk. “I ask you one thing, and this is the result?!” You flinch at his words and actions. Your gaze was low, trying to avoid any eye contact with the furious man that stood in front of you. 

Being Yoongis assistant was not as easy as you thought. You thought it would be all easygoing and happy because you were literally working for one of the biggest corporations and were hired as the personal assistant for the CEO! Isn't that a dream!!?? You would think. It was far from that. Yoongi was a sadist. He liked torturing you. Giving you the hardest assignments or tasks for you to complete and, on top of that, a very short amount of time to finish them. He made you follow millions of rules because ‘you are new, so you need guidance, right?’. You started getting why his other assistants resigned. 

You stared at the ground, on the verge of tears. You were a pretty sensitive person, so him screaming at you, accompanied by the throwing of things, was the perfect recipe for your waterworks to pour. You tried staying strong and tried to put up with his attitude, but today was the last straw.

“Are you that incompetent? Is this how I taught you? You dumb fucking slut! The only thing you are good at is flirting and fucking my employees!” He snapped at you harshly. Your heart sank at his words, and you started sniffing. He noticed it almost immediately and walked towards you, his lean body towering over your small frame as he stared down at you. You stayed silent, as you were not allowed to talk back to him until he said so. You gulped before hot streams of tears started pouring down your face. Yoongi stared at you, amused, A smirk was on his face as he finally broke you. He lifted your chin up and stared into your tear-filled eyes blankly. “Pathetic… Did I really hire a crybaby?” You shook your head. “N-no.. sir… w-whatever you said is not true…” You spoke up. You stutter in fear. “What?” His grip on your chin tightened. He got closer, his other hand creeping behind and groping your plump ass. Your breath hitched at his sudden action. His hand travels down to your neck, wrapping his fingers around them as he brings your face closer to his own. “Gon’ teach you a good lesson, ‘kay? So better shut your stupid fucking mouth and listen t’ me..” he hissed. His hand on your ass went under your short pencil skirt. You gulp and shudder when you feel his long, cold fingers rubbing your wet cunt. “So fucking wet.. you like it when I get angry at you, dont you , pretty?” His other hand found your ass cheeks before spreading and giving them a tight slap. You whine as you feel his fingers prod into your cunny , your head falling onto his chest. Hot tears stained his white button up. 

“S-sir.. please .. its embarrassi-“ He cut you off by landing a slap on your wet cunt. You jerk forward at the impact and sob as you watch Yoongi spread your cheeks and admire your pretty pussy. “So pretty… everything about you is perfect…” he praised. You whimpered as you felt his hot breath fanning over your bare pussy. You couldn’t do much as he had you bent over his desk, with his black valentino tie, binding your hands together behind your back. He gently placed a kiss on your slit, sending shivers down your spine. You writhed as he made out with your pussy. You gasped out as he slapped your ass. “Quit moving, bitch.” You gulped and closed your eyes as he licked a long stripe. Your eyes rolled back, and you started drooling as you felt his tongue inside of your warm walls. Yoongi buried his face in your pussy, his nose nudged inside. His tongue moved inside you with precision. A stream of your arousal ran down yoongis chin and your thighs. He moaned as he felt you clench around his tongue. “So wet. You are such a slut..” he mumbled into your pussy. You cried out as yoongis fingers found your neglected clit, slender fingers toying with the sensitive bud to overstimulate you. “S-sir… s’ too much!” Yoongi pulled away, leaving your cunt throbbing. He stood up and hovered over your small frame. You look up at him with glossy eyes, and a fucked out face, barely even being able to comprehend what’s going on. “Too much?” You nod dumbly, your eyes on the verge of tears. Yoongi's hands smoothed over your sweaty forehead, pushing away the stray hairs. “I barely started, princess..” Your mouth falls agape as you feel his fingers circle your entrance. “You disappointed me today… don’t you think i –squelch– deserve compensation..?” Your eyes roll back, and you moan as his fingers curl into your g spot. Your legs were trembling as four of his fingers went in and out off your sex, his hands already getting coated with your juices, almost reaching the cuffs of his suit jacket. Loud, squelching sounds accompanied by your soft moans bounced off the walls of his office. Yoongis other hand, found your perky nipples, playing with them through your thin shirt. “Mmm-ngh- s-sir….” You were too out of it to even speak. His fingers drove into you at an insane pace. Your mind was foggy as you slurred your words. “Gon -ngh- na.. c-cuum…” you almost felt like you were going to black out, but you were quickly brought back to earth as Yoongi pulled his fingers away. You cried out and turned around to look at Yoongi.

Your eyes almost popped out of your skull as Yoongis long cock plunged into you without a warning. Yoongi had a shit eating grin as he watched your reaction. He started moving his hips, sharp thrusts abused your walls. Your eyes crossed, and you started drooling from the sides of your mouth as Yoongi pounded into your squelching pussy. One of his hands was on your hip, keeping your body steady, and the other was on your head, squishing the side of your face. With every driving thrust into your pussy, the desk shook. You were crying and whining. Yoongi's cock was just too good. He pulled your head back, making you look into his eyes. “Look at you… all fucked out, and i barely started… feels good, princess? Does my princess like getting fucked like this? Yeah?” You whine at his words, unable to speak. You looked at him with your big, glossy eyes, lips in a pout, and eyebrows stitched together.  Yoongi almost lost it after looking at your state. “Is the dick too good that my princess cant even speak?” He scoffed before wrapping his hand around your neck, bringing you closer to his body. He used his other hand to lift one of your legs up on the desk. The new position hit the right spots. You moaned as his cock continuously bruised your cervix. He would pull back all the way and plunge into you, grazing your sensitive g spot. The hand on your neck was an added stimulation. “Fuuuuuckk…- sirrr.. -hic- its too g-goodd..” “yeah? Does my pretty little slut wanna cum? Does she wanna come all over boss’s dick?” He said it in between hot breaths. You nodded incoherently. “Mhmffm- wan’ more… wanna c-cummm….” Yoongis eyebrows furrowed as he watched your pussy suck him in. A thick ring of your cream was coating his pelvis. “So good… such a pretty whore.. do you see the way your pussy is taking me? ‘m gonna fill you up. Im gonna make sure you walk out with my cum dripping down your thighs. Wan’ everyone to know who this whore belongs too..” you cried out at his words, and a stream of your hot arousal gushed out of your pussy. You fall limply onto the desk and let Yoongi use your cunt. Not long after, his hot cum filled your womb. Rope after rope. He hunched over your small frame, holding you close to his body as he calmed himself down from his intense orgasm. 

Yoongi laid your weak body down on his office couch. You were barely conscious. He had cleaned you down and fixed your hair. He untied your hands and smoothed over the red marks. He had your head on his lap, as he ran his fingers through your slightly sweaty hair. He gently placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“ My favourite girl. ”

A/N: thank you for reading!! Did it seemed too rushed? I told i will post rqs in march but i couldn’t help but post it 😭 was the office theme okay? Hope you liked it <3 i will be back 🔜 pookies hehe

#౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ yun’s silly fics #bts #bts reactions #bts smut #bts x reader #bts army #bts fanfic #bts headcanons #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #yoongi smut #min yoongi #yoongi #suga smut #suga scenario #bts suga #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n