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sithlordintraining · 6 years

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My Dancing Doll [UPDATED]

A/N: Me, the last person who should make a new series when I have 6-7 more chapters of SNA, and God knows how many between TMM and KotN. But here’s a story since I’m starting to regret not going to an HBCU. It’s written for Ben since I did one for Kylo last time and KotN has Matt Feedback is much appreciated, let me know if I should continue. please. IT’S UPDATED AND IT’S BETTER! IT WON’T BE A SERIES JUST A NICE LONG ONE SHOT.

Basically based on this and one of my fave SU Dolls, Ms. Kayla Pittman

“So like that show Bring It?” Ben asked. A chuckle emitted over the phone. “Yes, but not exactly.” Y/N, his best friend told him. “I still can’t believe you moved all the way to Louisiana.” A pout formed on his lips. You chuckled once again: “You’re so dramatic, you choose to move away also, Mr. Harvard.” Ben just rolled his eyes. You two were inseparable and he never thought that even college would pull you guys apart, even if you called or face timed every Sunday, and practically text each other every day. It wasn’t the same for Ben. Hence him flying to Louisiana to pick you up for Thanksgiving so you guys can come home together. So why not invite him to one of your shows. “I can’t believe you’re a dancing doll.” He teased. “Oh my Gosh Ben, it’s not even like that you’ll see and then you’re going to want to come down all the time.” You were a Southern University Dancing Doll, it meant so much to be a part one of the nations most prestigious and famous dance teams. So what was the best way to explain to your rhythmically challenged friend than to make him watch Bring It? “Alright, alright,” Ben huffed. “Well, I can’t wait to see you Dancing Doll.” You let him off the hook with that tease. “Bye Ben, see you next week.”

It was so damn hot in New Orleans, Ben wanted to peel off all his skin. “Jesus Christ,” He wiped the sweat that formed on his forehead. Looking at his phone he had three hours to spare before meeting you, so he would go to the hotel, wash up, and get his ticket from you. But boy did this heat have other plans for him. Settling into his hotel after a nice refreshing shower, the chill from the air conditioner knocked Ben right out. If it wasn’t for the maid’s cart ramming into the wall outside, Ben didn’t know how he would’ve awakened. With sleepy eyes, he looked at his phone was your face illuminated alerting him he had a call. “Hello?” He groggily answered. “Ben, what the fuck are you doing? You’re supposed to be meeting me to get the ticket!” You continued to yell at him, even though you were trying to keep your calm. “M’sorry, shit, shit, shit.” He cursed as he flopped around his room to get himself together. Holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder he listened to you just go off about calling him seventeen times and thirty-six text and being so worried something happened. “Relax, relax sweetheart.” Ben interrupted. “I’ll be there, everything will be fine and focus on your practice. I’ll see you soon, forehead kiss.” He said and you huffed in annoyance. “Forehead kiss,” You grumbled. Every time after you would calm Ben down from his ridiculous tantrums, you would give him a forehead kiss, and vice versa. So now, since you guys were so far apart, the friends just decided to say it. “Alright bye,” He hung up.

The drive to the Superdome was hell! He knew he was definitely going to get cursed out by you. Maybe God had pitied Ben and decided that whatever Y/N had in store for him was far worse and the least he could do was get him there on time. Y/N HATED being late and one of Ben’s famous trait was being late; how’d they become friends, they still don’t know. In her text, she had given Ben directions to sneak in the back where the band was to give him his ticket. He followed it intently, through the sounds of Lil Wayne and Beyonce and the smell of barbecue before he found his destination with a sea of gold and blue. Throughout all the commotion, he could make out specks of jaguar print and he guessed that’s where you would be. He found himself correct as he saw your head popped up. He froze just staring at you because...damn. You looked good. Like yeah, you’re a beautiful girl. But, like damn it had to be a crime for you to look so mature, so...sexy. Your eyes met his and he gulped because even though you were shooting daggers at him, it was so hot. Ben watched his friend saunter over in her gold dance heels and jaguar-spotted cape and he swore he could watch you do that all day. “Ben, it took you long enough!” She said but all Ben could do was open his mouth as he accepted the ticket. He couldn’t stop staring at the way your (y/h/c) curls framed your face giving you that old Hollywood pin-up girl look, the way your black eyeliner winged to give you a mischievous look, while your red lips just played games with his mind. He didn’t realize he was just staring at you until you walked away. “Hey, Hi, Hi,” Ben pulled you into a hug, which confused you. Did he not listen to anything you had just said. “Hi,” You smiled sweetly, which had his brain turning to mush. “I have to go, I have to march in, and I’m already not supposed to be here.” You told him. “But, I want to watch you march in.” Ben put on his best puppy eyes, but it didn’t work. “Ben, stop it. I got you a good seat, now go! You’ll see me from there.” With a sigh, he accepted his defeat and watch you walk away to join your group. He began to shuffle along when he turned back to see you all taking a picture. Your eyes fell on him and you sent a wink his way with a flirtatious smile. Did you just do that or was his mind playing crazy tricks on him?

Ben briskly walked to find his seat in the large stadium with you running and doing other things in his mind. “Shit,” He mumbled under his breath. Never did he ever think he would feel this way about you, Y/N, his best friend. Slumping in his seat, he sighed trying to find the best excuse as to why he was feeling this way. It was just primitive hormonal instinct, he declared. Basic cavemen theory: see pretty lady, mate with pretty lady. Ben shook his head, he didn’t want to mate with you, he’s known you since you were twelve! Even though, everyone spoke about how cute your kids would be. A smile slowly fell to his lips at the thought until the rumble of drums pulled him out of his thoughts as Southern University began to emerge. On the large screen, he could see, who he guessed, was the captain and her somewhat stuck-up expression before panning out to show the others. His brown eyes widened when he saw their outfit. My God they all looked naked! There was no way in hell your dad knew about this, there was no way in hell any of their dads knew about this! It was a bodysuit that looked made it look like they had on silver sequin panties and a large bedazzled fleur de lis covering their torso. The captain began to throw a stand that maneuvered the group out. His eyes frantically searched for you, not knowing if he really wanted to see you or just wanted to see you in that. He groaned, falling into his seat as the crowd stood obscuring his view of you. Through his woes, he glanced to see that they had made it to the stands, doing one last count before sitting down one by one. He watched the screen intently as he still hadn’t seen you. People had begun to sit down so he had a very clear vision. Ben watched Y/N slowly guide her gloved hands down her body, back arching almost inhumanely, as she slowly rolled into a seated position. All the while maintaining eye contact with the camera before a little smirk fell to your lips, causing the crowd to rave at the newcomer who was very much living up to the expectation as the tail. Ben was heated, internally and externally. You basically just eye-fucked a whole stadium, who the fuck does that? Clearly you but, it was the look you had just given him! His brows knitted together as he clenched his fist. He wasn’t mad, is what he told himself. And it was true, he wasn’t mad, he was jealous.

Nor could he concentrate on the game as his eyes kept wandering back to you. The way you were perched up like a pretty Barbie doll or laugh at your friends jokes or make faces at the games. Ben couldn’t just stop watching you, it was as if he was a scientist studying cells or a painter and his muse. With every stand that was thrown, your movements were smooth and effortless. “A true doll,” He had heard someone say. A lot of people had taken interest in you, saying that you were “a perfect pick for the team” that “fit in with the seasoned dolls” and “is able to keep up and still having your own style.” Ben couldn’t help but smile at the compliments that filled his area about you. Plenty of times he wanted to turn and say that the girl they all deemed “Lil’ KP” was his best friend. In a brief moment, your eyes fell over to his section and Ben believed that even from afar you were staring into his soul. A blush began to cover his face at just the thought of you possibly thinking of him the way he recently discovered he thought about you. Simultaneously, a smile graced your lips that had believing that the universe was clearly messing with him. He growled in annoyance as he got up and made his way to the exit. Even though he was outside, he needed some nice, fresh, air-conditioned air. Sitting at one of the concession stands sitting area with the palms of his hands pressed against his eyes. Why was it now that everything had to be like this? Maybe that feeling was always there and you were always there and he found contentment in that. But now, you were miles away in Louisiana, wearing sequins all over your rolling body, with guys who didn’t know how great you are and deserved to be spoiled with food, presents, love, and attention. Much time passed before he decided to go back in. He observed that bands had left and it was much darker. Had he missed the whole game? “Umm, is it over?” He asked a random person. “No Baby, it’s halftime!” The man exclaimed. “They just getting started!” Bidding him thanks he made his way to the seat.

His mind was easily taken off you for a brief moment as he watched Grambling State take over the field. He couldn’t help but think of the big differences between this and the one at Harvard. Now, he knew what they meant by ‘come for the game, stay for halftime’. As his eyes roamed around the illuminated arena, he could definitely see there were more people than there were the first half. The field was clear and the crowd went mad anticipating for what Southern University would bring. The field was clear and the crowd went mad anticipating for what Southern University would bring. The band stepped foot loud and clear onto the field. Ben watched in confusion and amusement because this was far from what he saw at Harvard. The band leader who looked like he could be a British guard hyped the crowd as he flung his body over the field with high kicks and bending backward to land on his hat. The whole look was just enticing and he was impressed at the band's clarity, flow, and how they could execute movements while playing the instruments. Harvard could never. Maybe he should go to HBCU and be that one random white boy. He shook his head; he was pretty sure that he would at least have to have some type of rhythm and Ben could positively admit that after a while, his claps would fall offbeat. “And now ladies and gentlemen put your hands together for the classy, the beautiful Southern University Dancing Dolls!” The girls emerged from the field in a high-cut jaguar printed leotard with a sequined collar choker. “Again with these bodysuits!” Ben grumbled as it took his eyes to adjust to the fast movements that made it harder to find you. “YASSSS LIL’ KP!” The girls next to him screamed. Looking to the far left, he saw your mesmerizing smile. With every kick, turn, and jump he saw those facial expressions that were etched in his mind since the sixth grade. He was so happy for you achieving one of your many dreams and felt so proud to call you his best friend. Keyword: his.

And if you weren’t already killing him with the costumes, after halftime the dancers changed into a more revealing two-piece blue number with sequins and a feathered skirt aka belt because when you bent over he could see how perfect your as-. Ben shook his head, he shouldn’t be checking out his best friend like that. If the outfit wasn’t enough the band was playing songs that called for more sultry movements and once again you were eye-fucking the stadium. Granted you were just being an entertainer, he couldn’t deny that he wanted you to look at him with that look and only him. But what could he say? What would he do? He couldn’t just walk up to you and say “Hey Y/N I think I’m in love with you and I want to be with you forever.” He cringed just thinking how awkward it would be. With a deep sigh, he continued his new hobby: Y/N-watching. You looked so good in each costume, but this one had to be his favorite he pervertedly admitted to himself. Ben had to decide if he would stay quiet or say something.

The game was over and the score was forgotten as he followed the true fans to the back to watch the band march out. And there you were in all your glitter and blue feathers with a tired but very bright smile. With a tightening feeling in his chest, a somber feeling washed over him. How had he overlooked you? Yes, it was cliche to fall for a best friend. But, you were talented, funny, good-looking, intelligent, had a great personality, literally cared about him and cared enough about him to put him in his place. It made him sad that you were always there and he’d only seen you as a best friend. But had he? Thinking back, you were always the first person he wanted to tell good news to, the person he went to to make him feel better, the only person that could tease him to days end without making him mad, the last voice he wanted to hear at night, the sight he wanted to see in every class period, his date for every formal event, basically just always by his side. It was always you. Throughout his internal dialogue, he had missed your smiling face make your way towards him. “BEN!” You jumped and he caught you quickly, arms wrapping tightly around your exposed center. His fingers gently dug into the soft skin causing you to giggle and squirm out of his grip which had him wanting to pull you back in. “Did you like it? Did you enjoy the show?” Y/N asked. “Of course I did, it’s way better than mine. You might have to go up to Cambridge and show them a few things about a halftime show.” Your sweet laugh fell passed through your red lips leaving Ben in a haze. “Did you see me?” Her eyes gleamed up at him as his lips tugged before speaking. “Did I see you? Sweetheart I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You were so beautiful and graceful. Y/N you have to be the most perfect person I’ve ever met.” As Ben began to talk, you slowly started to realize it wasn’t about your dancing, it was about you. “Everything you do is so effortless, even on your bad day, you make it look like a walk in the park. The way you carry yourself is so captivating, just to be in your presence is an honor. And the fact that you always chose me to grace it with just, I mean, I just.” Your smile had faded into a confused frown. “What are you trying to say, Ben?” Your words were slow and calculated, at least that’s how he processed it. “What I’m trying to say is, well, I,” He stammered before throwing all caution to the wind. “Oh fuck it!” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a long-awaited kiss. Everyone cheered and the band began to play ‘Ebony & Ivory’. You pulled away quite embarrassed, hiding your smile in his chest. Deep down you always thought you felt something more for Ben, but you thought of it as just the progression of friendship. But that kiss definitely proved you wrong! “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. Lifting your head, you smiled: “It’s ok, but you still owe me a date.” “I know and we have whole two hours for that.” He chuckled.

Bonus:

“You will not take me on a date on a plane!”

“Think of it as part one.”

“What’s part two?”

“Dinner.”

“Oh hell no, don’t think you can use our families dinner as a date!”

P.s.: Feedback is much appreciated, let me know if I should continue, please. LAZINESS AT IT’S FINEST RIGHT HERE!

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storytaeme · 6 years

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eau de résistance - yoonkook

Yoongi has an existential crisis after he devirginized an adorable freshman who also happens to be his fan. Safe to say, it’s a little hard to avoid falling for someone as cute as Jeongguk.

(alternative title: baby, f a love song, i need you to say it)

▸ Elements: Romance, Angst, Smut | College AU, Interns AU

▸ Word Count: 13,017 words

▸ A/N: After some major fuck ups on my end, I decided to just post this fic up here instead of ao3! Based on a thread I made a while back for yoonkook week :D title from stay frosty royal milk tea by fob just cause I can never title

Out of all the horrible mornings that Yoongi has been through (and that was a lot), this was perhaps the worst one of all. There was something about the crushing realization of a mistake that had his heart clawing against his chest, the undeniable permanence of a consequence that one had to accept in the wake of such a grand error, that made him want to fling himself out a window and backflip off a cliff into a pit of molten lava.

“Joon, I think I might have devirginized someone.”

“What the fuck?” Namjoon sputtered, milk dribbling down his chin and his lips quivering like an earthquake. Yoongi would’ve laughed and commemorated the sight with his phone if he weren’t so busy having an existential crisis that crumbled all he’s ever known about himself.

“I might have devi—”

Namjoon shook his head, “I heard you the first time around, I’m just not sure why you’re telling me this detail to your sexual life. Or why this ‘devirginizing’ is of any importance to my breakfast, which looks kinda gross now thanks to you.”

“You are aware of my rule.”

A snort slipped past the younger’s lips as he rolled his eyes and focused on spooning more cereal into his mouth. “Right, right, no virgins because apparently everyone will fall in love with your magic dick that can woo those who encounter it.” Sometimes he couldn’t believe Namjoon was an honor student with a perfect GPA when he made duck faces with puckered lips.

“Listen,” Yoongi hissed, jerking his index finger in his roommate’s direction, “you know it’s bad. You know.”

“I know how bad it was, but dude,” Namjoon gave him a look, “not everyone’s gonna think you’re whipped for them just because you deflowered their innocence and took away a piece of their soul and goodness from the path of Jesus Christ.”

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temple. “I don’t know why I bother talking to a preacher who lost his virginity to a sugar daddy at age eighteen. I forgot.”

“Shut the fuck up, do not judge me for my life decisions. I was doing it for investment in future endeavors, in other words, college.”

“You finished off that allowance in the first week by binging on vodka to celebrate your getting a sugar daddy!”

Namjoon glared at him because he clearly had made a solid argument. “That’s beside the point.” That was exactly the point. “Anyway, tell me more about this person. Do I know them? Are they hot? I don’t mind taking seconds if they’re solid in the sheets.”

“First of all, you’re fuckin’ gross,” Yoongi offered him a look of unadulterated disgust, which was how he perceived Namjoon most of the time anyway. “Second, he’s a freshman.”

“Oh so like you.”

“Undergraduate freshman.”

Namjoon let out a whistle and wiggled his eyebrows, sticking his tongue out lewdly, “You like those ones, don’t you, hyungie? Fresh face, wide-eyed, perky asses ready to shake.”

“Biggest eyes I’ve ever seen,” Yoongi muttered, his mind instantly whirring back to the night before. Which was an incredibly stupid idea because he was well on his way to a raging boner with the memory alone.

“So?” the younger shrugged, “you don’t see undergrads a lot. You’ll probably never see this kid again. Also, I thought you said you weren’t gonna fuck with undergrads this time around. Wild kids those ones. We’re getting too old for this.”

Despite the urge to argue that Namjoon was still, in fact, an undergrad, Yoongi took a deep breath and sighed, pursing his lips and glancing out the window. It’s well into the afternoon yet the sun looked absent, however he could still feel a warm tingling on his skin. It was unnerving. “He was different,” Yoongi murmured, knowing that Namjoon was already giving him a look.

“What? His dick sparkles or something?”

“Piss off,” Yoongi flicked crumbs in his direction, ignoring Namjoon’s calling him immature. “He was… cool. Like, really passionate about music and dance. It was cute seeing him ramble on about how excited he was about all this.”

“That’s nice, that all?”

“He’s also a huge fan,” Yoongi said quickly, hiding his face behind his coffee. So, maybe he had been a teensy bit assuaged by the fact that the kid knew his SoundCloud songs like a father does the Bible. Who didn’t like praises? Especially if it came from a very, very good-looking guy who just happened to be a fan, you know. It was all in the coincidence.

Namjoon snorted, “Pleasing your groupies I see.”

“Anyway,” he pressed, “thought it was okay, was cool. I was a little drunk ‘cause we met at some party then one thing led to another and we fucked.”

“Okay, that’s good. That’s like progress.”

“No, not good. The kid was good—” Yoongi moaned absentmindedly. God, the thought of the guy’s thighs flexing and tensing every time he sank down on Yoongi, the kid taking the lead and fucking himself down and the filthiest words spilling from his lips while Yoongi could only whimper helplessly and follow along to whatever the boy had in store for him for the night (and it was a lot). It was good. It was fucking incredible that Yoongi figured—hey, this kid knew what he was doing, he was probably not a virgin.

Guess again.

Namjoon crinkled his nose at him. “Jesus, pull your head out of your ass. I can practically see the image in my head with your boner popping. I get it, he’s really good. So what’s the problem now?”

“He said thank you, Joon. Thank you. He cuddled me afterwards and thanked me.”

“Okay,” Namjoon stared at him quizzically.

“Nobody fuckin’ says thank you after a hookup.”

“You know, unlike you, there are people who have common courtesy even in their procreative endeavors.”

Yoongi glared at him, “Bitch, we gays can’t procreate, this is why you’re not in biology.”

“So he thanked you, what’s the big deal? He’s just nice is all.”

“Seemed too sentimental for me,” Yoongi huffed and threw a scathing look Namjoon’s way before the other could open his mouth to say something he would regret.

Namjoon chuckled, “Well, lucky for you, we have separate programs from undergrads. So, what are the chances that you’re going to see him again?”

Yoongi wanted to die.

If he thought that running into Jeongguk in the streets was the worst thing he could happen, he thought wrong. Dead wrong.

After a crummy morning with the exploding espresso machine courtesy of Namjoon and face-planting down the stairs in his hurry to leave his flat, the last thing he needed was another run of bad luck. However, obviously, the universe had it out for him. Because there he was in the studio he worked in, the studio he dedicated his time and heart into, standing face to face with none other than the kid who had given him the best dicking of the century, ten out of ten would do again. Worse—the kid also had a huge name tag hanging around his neck that clearly said INTERN in big, black, bold letters.

Yoongi didn’t fuck with virgins, and he especially didn’t fuck with coworkers.

Now he’s gone right ahead and done both.

“Are you following me?”

The kid looked alarmed for a second, eyes growing wider than he thought possible, pretty pink lips parting. Yoongi felt his cock twitch in his slacks, remembering how those exact same lips had been wrapped around his nipples. Shit.

“H-hyung,” Jeongguk cleared his throat, straightening awkwardly and even blushing. Fuck, he was cute. Too cute for his own good. “I—uh, no. You said that I could come check out the studio when we—” he paused, gaze flicking up from beneath his thick lashes to look at Yoongi “—we, you know. So I did and I applied to their internship program and I got in.”

Note to self: do not fucking drink. Ever. Again.

“Right, that’s cool,” Yoongi cleared his throat, hoping that the loud, nervous rumbling in his heart wasn’t obvious. “Intern, right. That’s cool.”

At his words, Jeongguk’s lips quirked up on the corners. It seemed that Yoongi’s nerves had cancelled out his. “You said that already.”

“Right, cool.”

Jeongguk giggled a little and Yoongi wanted to smack himself with a book. Preferably a very, very thick and hard one. “So guess I’ll be seeing you around, hyung. Supervisor wants me to reorganize the filing cabinets.”

“Ah, yes, intern work. I remember those days.”

“You make it sound as if you’re three times my age. Calm down, Grandpa,” Jeongguk smirked, “you know, if you’re free, I wouldn’t mind an extra hand to help.”

Yoongi’s mind might have traveled elsewhere with the suggestion, but he just huffed out a laugh, “Yeah, right. I’m way past those days, kid. Have fun, don’t get too many paper cuts.” With a cackle, he left a groaning Jeongguk to start chipping away at the mountains of folders in the record closet.

Tolerance was built as is the case with alcohol, patience towards idiots, and a numbness towards things that made his adrenaline levels spike. It was supposed to build. It was supposed to fester and grow and stop his heart from flipping all over the place whenever he caught sight of Jeongguk. The first few days, the intern looked like a deer in headlights whenever someone called his name. Yoongi hid his smile each time because the younger was cute. Jeongguk was hardworking and sweet, and so easily likable that everyone in the office quickly fell for his toothy grin and silly laugh. He was eager to please, always running here and there for errands. Sometimes, he would even give a cute little salute and a small ‘aye, aye’ before he got started on whatever task he was assigned to. It pissed Yoongi off that some of his colleagues were taking advantage of him that Yoongi might or might not have spilled blistering coffee on a few of them.

But Jeongguk didn’t seem to mind, seemed to like moving around and having things to do. Yoongi figured that it would be fine that they had gotten involved before. Sure, they crossed paths, but it wasn’t as if they were going to fall into step (or bed) together again anytime soon.

Interaction was fine. Yoongi could talk to him and ask him to do things around the office without wanting to get down on his knees and suck the younger off (most of the time, at least).

However, the tolerance just wasn’t there. It wasn’t enough.

It was during quiet hours in the studio that Yoongi realized how weak he truly was for the younger. Whenever Yoongi stayed overtime at the recording booth, he would find Jeongguk popping by to check on him from time to time. Even when he insisted that it was basically his bedtime, much to Jeongguk’s distaste, the younger would hover around and watch Yoongi work with the brightest eyes. When the elder asked him why he wanted to spend so long in the studio, he had just shrugged, “It’s cool watching you work. You know a lot and I want to learn from you.”

As if his ego and heart hadn’t been inflated enough, this just put the cherry on top of the cake. Jeongguk would bring him steaming mugs of coffee, done just the way he liked it with a sprinkle of sugar and a splash of milk. In his sleep-deprived state, he really couldn’t complain about any dose of caffeine. The younger would hover quietly behind him, watching his fingers move deftly at work over the sound system.

“Guk, you really shouldn’t be out so late,” Yoongi grumbled, giving the taller boy a light shove as they jogged down the steps of the studio. It was a little over one and Yoongi was making his way home at long last. Jeongguk had stuck around again, yawning this time as puffs of warm breath mingled in with the cold air outside.

“‘M fine, just a little tired,” Jeongguk mumbled cutely, bringing his fist up to rub at his eyes.

Yoongi’s heart twinged at the sight. He yanked off his own scarf and wrapped it around the younger’s neck. Jeongguk was decked out in nothing more than a flimsy sweater that could barely barricade him from the miserable winter temperature. There was no way he was going to make it back home alive in that getup. “You should learn to dress properly too,” Yoongi grunted under his breath, tightening the knot around the boy’s neck. “You’re going to catch hypothermia at this rate.”

“Mm, nope,” he giggled sleepily, “I’m basically a human heater. Feel me.” He stuck out his bare hands in Yoongi’s direction.

The elder glanced at them hesitantly and Jeongguk nudged them forward again, doe eyes practically begging him to touch them. Yoongi sighed, relenting and mimicking the gesture. His fingers slowly ran over the back of the boy’s hand, the pads of his fingertips smoothing over the delicate veins before wrapping around the hand altogether. He was right. He was warm.

However, with how hard his heart was beating in his ears, Yoongi wasn’t quite sure if that warmth was emanating from the boy across from him or if it rooted in some sort of unfamiliarity brewing in his veins. Nevertheless, he quickly pulled away and shoved his hands deep, deep into his pockets. Jeongguk’s eyes remained wide and curious, peering at Yoongi as if he was attempting to pry into his thoughts.

“Let’s head back, kid,” Yoongi grumblesd under his breath, opting to show interest in his shoes rather than the intrigued expression painted on the younger boy’s face.

With small talk and a struggle against the bitter cold, Yoongi walked Jeongguk to the same station and parted ways when Jeongguk hopped on a different line. Safe to say, he spent the train ride home trying to rid himself of the image of a certain someone’s soft features and, especially, his deliciously warm hands.

In spite of Yoongi’s constant insistence for Jeongguk to leave earlier, the kid still refused to listen—instead choosing to stay late nights at the studio, bearing gifts of sustenance to keep Yoongi (read: the living dead) alive. Most of the time, he ignored the other’s presence and focused solely on his work before him. All his life, his time had been dedicated to music and all its accompaniments, but the universe had added another his way.

Jeongguk was curious and inquisitive, but never impolite with his questions. He did his best to keep out of Yoongi’s way but it was difficult for the other man to ignore his existence when he was so… big.

Just between the two of you (you, the reader, and Yoongi), Jeongguk’s size was definitely something that caught Yoongi’s eye the first time around—and the second and the third.

“Guk, gonna say this again, but you should not stay this late,” the elder sighed, yanking off his headphones and letting them wrap around his neck loosely. Jeongguk is yawning on the couch, homework before him seeming to be filled with sleepy, barely legible scribbles. “You’ve got classes tomorrow and I heard Professor Taesuk isn’t the friendliest with people who fall asleep in class.”

Jeongguk let out a small whine, “But I don’t wanna go home yet. I can’t focus on homework at home. I do better work here.”

“But you need rest,” Yoongi pressed again, “you should’ve gotten this done earlier and maybe cut back some hours at the studio. You’re not even getting paid.” Jeongguk, as a starting intern, was basically offering his services for free—sacrificing time and effort to build a network of connections that might come in handy someday.

“I like watching you work, makes me feel like I gotta be productive too,” he grinned unapologetically with droopy eyes.

Yoongi’s lips thinned into a stubborn line. “Go home for tonight. Come on. I’ll walk with you to the station as always.”

It’s become a habit for the two to trudge together through the cold for the commute back home. It wasn’t the best of circumstances but Yoongi appreciated those moments of silence as the snow and gravel crunched underneath their boots. Other times, Jeongguk would hum a familiar tune, his honeyed voice carrying in the wind. The sound intermingled with the rhythmic beats of Yoongi's heart, intertwining to create a melody that had his soul warming in the frost.

“Hey, hyung,” Jeongguk started just as his train arrived at the platform. Yoongi looked up. “Thanks—” pause “—for everything. You’re even cooler than I thought you’d be and I just… I like hanging out with you. You're everything I expected and… more.”

The announcement of the train’s next stop rang loud and clear across the station, but the only thing echoing in his ears was Jeongguk’s sweet words. Even as the train rushed towards them, the rails rattling with the sheer force of it, Yoongi thought they could never compare with the thrumming in his veins and the bells ringing in his ears. Jeongguk’s cheeks were pink from the cold and perhaps from the confession. “Um, no problem. You’re not so bad yourself,” Yoongi cleared his throat, feeling his own face flame just a tad.

Yoongi didn’t quite know how to remove the sudden, strange fluttering in his stomach, the little flips and churns of his gut, nor did he know whether the thundering in his ears would last or whether it would fade as quickly as the snow melted away into spring.

As the seasons changed, Yoongi found himself more and more entranced by the boy. Jeongguk was always caught within his line of sight. Whatever he was doing, whether it was cleaning up desks for his colleagues or stumbling over his feet to get coffee for the head honcho, Yoongi would always spot him. He pitied the younger for having to work the laborious, tedious tasks that nobody else wanted to do—after all, Yoongi had to go through the same thing when he himself had been a starter.

But Jeongguk never once complained or whined, never once felt an ounce of bitterness even when Yoongi supplied him with the opportunity to let his frustrations out. Instead, he would beam and say that this was a step closer to his goal of success.

“Wait, you want to make music but you’re going into business?” Yoongi questioned, puzzled. His hands froze over his setup as he turned to give the younger a confused look. Jeongguk had only shown passion towards the artistry Yoongi and the studio created, always raving on about a track or a production. Although he had been mostly involved in administrative tasks rather than content creation, Jeongguk had never spoken so highly of the financial side of the business nor has he expressed interest.

Jeongguk shrugged and grinned, “My parents don’t trust me in music, but I do still need their support to go to college since my grades don’t really qualify me for a merit scholarship. But it’s fine! I was thinking of going more into music business? I think that would be pretty dope, but I like singing and learning to produce too.” A pause ensued and the two sat in silence as Yoongi chewed on his words. Before he could respond, Jeongguk continued—this time with pink coloring his cheeks, “And that’s why I’m really grateful to you, hyung. You’re really cool and I’m learning so much from you.”

And Yoongi—in typical Yoongi fashion—opted for a response that allowed him to turn away and mask his embarrassment. Jeongguk had no problem exposing his admiration for the elder, but Yoongi struggled to control his heartbeat and preventing his death from utter elation.

A small giggle behind him indicated that the tactic hadn’t worked very well after all. And somehow, a part of him didn’t mind that in the least.

It had become a custom for him to slide on his headphones and slip into a zone of focus that barricaded him from the entirety of the outside realm. He existed for hours entirely for his music and the vibrations that pulsed through his ears. Every blemish in the song he cleared with his bare hands and instruments. By the time he was a teensy bit satisfied with his progress, the haze in his reality would clear. Pulling off his headphones, he turned to check on Jeongguk. “Hey, kid—”

And the sight that greeted him was both heart-stopping and endearing. His headphones clattered to the ground and he cursed at himself, quickly picking them up before whipping his gaze to the younger boy to see whether the noise had affected him. However, aside from a small whimper that had Yoongi’s heart squeezing, he was still sound asleep.

“Unbelievable,” the elder muttered, though he couldn’t keep the subtle smile off his face. Lifting himself off the chair, Yoongi did his best to pad quietly to where the boy lied. His face of slumber ever so serene—gone was the mischievousness and blinding smile, leaving a tired angel at rest in its wake.

Yoongi crouched down, ready to shake Jeongguk awake to send him home for the day. However, as he raised his hand, he found himself halting. His keen eyes observed the way his soft bangs fell against his face, how Jeongguk would scrunch up his nose unconsciously every time it tickled his skin. Smiling, the elder instead moved to brush his hair away from his face, gently stroking his temple. Jeongguk’s face melted into one of ease, a smile making its way upon his lips.

The moment seemed to have pulled the brakes on time—the entire world moving in slow motion, from the gentle rise and falls of Jeongguk’s chest, to the way Yoongi’s digits sifted through the younger’s silky strands, and how the boy’s eyelids fluttered open drowsily. Jeongguk blinked slowly, gradually gaining consciousness as reality dawned upon him once more.

Yoongi’s breath hitched in his throat, catching in surprise. On the other hand, the other man seemed to have done the same—his eyes widened, awestruck at the moment. For a while, the two made no moves—staying stiff and still to keep the tensely fragile air steady. It was as if one shift of muscle could’ve shattered the entire moment into shards. But it was proving difficult to breathe and Yoongi wasn’t sure if this was good for either of them, but he didn’t—couldn’t—bring himself to move.

He should’ve pulled away, should’ve coughed or done something to tear away from the intensity of the second. But he didn’t. He was a coward and he liked Jeongguk and he didn’t think that he would ever get a second chance at this opportunity—to stare and observe this beautiful human being too good and too untouched by this world.

However, the other had other things in mind as he scooted forward on the couch. Their faces were a few mere inches from each other. Yoongi could feel the warmth of their breaths mingling in the air. “Hyung,” Jeongguk whispered, slicing gently through the silence. He drifted closer and closer, his eyes falling shut once again. Yoongi prayed and hoped that he had just fallen asleep, but the quick skip in his breath indicated otherwise as his lips finally pressed against the elder’s.

And it was as if time had truly stopped—the entire world freezing on its axis, unmoving and the earth had stopped revolving around the sun and the moon pausing its rotation.

Yoongi was still positioned awkwardly, but he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t deny the familiarity of Jeongguk’s lips, how wonderful they felt, how soft they were, how long he had been waiting for this exact moment.

Jeongguk parted his lips cautiously, gauging the other man’s response to his action. There were alarms blaring in Yoongi’s mind, warning him that this was the point of no return—if he crossed this line, there was no going back. No going back to being coworkers sharing amused looks across the halls, no friendly, quiet nights in the studio.

For once, Yoongi didn’t listen to his head.

He kissed Jeongguk back with as much fervor as the younger gave. Their lips melted together as if they were meant to fit perfectly, like clay around its mold. Yoongi barely registered Jeongguk’s sharp intake of breath before he slowly crawled above the other boy, straddling his hips as he leaned down to join their lips again. His heart burned with flames that licked up his skin, his hands beginning their journey to explore the wide expanse of Jeongguk’s body. He swallowed every whine, every little, delicious whimper that slipped past the younger’s addicting lips.

Jeongguk responded to his every touch, every stroke of finger underneath his shirt and down the outline of his stomach. He canted his hips up to meet Yoongi’s, moaned as he relished in the sensations of Yoongi’s fingers digging into his scalp and tugging his head back. With his neck exposed, the elder dipped his face to taste his neck, sucking slowly at first before adding the graze of his teeth to the mixture. Jeongguk released soft pants, choked breaths as Yoongi lapped at the marked skin—the golden glistening with a bit of moisture and blooming with prints he had left behind.

It was satisfying to see Jeongguk come undone underneath his fingertips. It seemed that, whatever Yoongi did, the younger would respond so promptly, so violently that it fueled this sudden, carnal desire within him. He memorized every little noise, every twitch of the boy’s fingers.

Before long, shirts were strewn across the floor, abandoned without a second glance. Yoongi’s pale fingers traced pretty circles on the boy’s abdomen, dancing gently along the surface to elicit shivers from the younger who caught the digits and nipped at them teasingly. “Didn’t know you really liked my abs, hyung,” he giggled.

Yoongi rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, “Cocky shit. You know you look good.”

“I do,” he beamed and then softened, “but it still feels good to hear it from you than anyone else.”

His words pricked at the elder’s supposedly colder heart, chipped away at the ice. Yoongi recognized the tone—that sound of adoration and admiration—and that was a dangerous tone for the game they are trying to play. And Yoongi made his next mistake by once again choosing to ignore the second glaring sign that this was wrong, that there was a better path.

“Hyung?” Jeongguk questioned, peering up at him with those pretty, bright eyes. Yoongi had written them—those pretty, bright eyes—into his lyrics, into one of his ballads that sounded much too soft to be included in his mixtape. It was the kind of song he would tuck away as a memory piece for a nostalgic day.

“Less talking, baby,” he grunted instead, touching their lips in the middle as his fingers fumbled with Jeongguk’s buckle.

Their pants soon joined other articles of clothing on the floor, leaving them bare in the coziness of the tiny studio. The only sounds bouncing off the soundproof walls were Jeongguk’s labored breaths and the shuffling of skin against the fabric of the couch. Yoongi kissed along his jaw—that pretty, sharp jaw—and down his neck, over the bruises, and down the column of his pretty throat. Everything about Jeongguk screamed perfection and that voice inside of Yoongi was in turn commanding him to take a piece of it, to have a taste of the crème de la crème.

And who was Yoongi to deny his inner voice? He bit and nibbled, loving the way the canvas of the younger’s body blossomed before him with his imprints. He made his way down, running his tongue along the lines of his toned body, dipping it into the dimples of his waist.

Yoongi licked his lips when he reached his final destination. Jeongguk’s length curved thick and proud against his stomach, a tantalizing sight from a tantalizing man. It would be a lie to say that his mouth didn’t water at the sight. Jeongguk exuded everything sex embodied in that very moment and Yoongi was a mere mortal falling into the temptations created by the hands of sin.

“Hyung, f-fuck, please,” he whimpered, fingers absentmindedly tangling in the elder’s silky locks to tug him closer. “Can you—would you—”

Never in his life had he seen Jeongguk so distraught. Even their first night together, the younger had been so composed, had left the other man instead a stuttering mess. But this time, the tables had turned and Yoongi was going to milk this as much as he could.

Grinning, he thumbed the slit of Jeongguk’s pulsing cock, “What do you want, Jeonggukie? Tell hyung what you want.”

“Hyung,” Jeongguk flushed again, pretty pink lips parting in a gasp as he jerked his hips up slightly to get any form of friction from the elder’s hand.

“You have to tell me, Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi muttered and gave his length a quick squeeze, just enough to have him squirming uncomfortably.

“M’want—I just want your mouth—” Jeongguk’s breath hitched in his throat as Yoongi gave a tentative lick, tongue barely grazing the head. A long expletive left the other’s mouth and the elder chuckled. “Come on, hyung, you can’t do this to me. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts so much. Want your mouth—nothing else, p-please. I want your mouth on me, hyung.”

With every breathless, hiccuped plea, Jeongguk proved to only urge Yoongi to tease him even more. His fingers danced along the length, his fingertips brushing along the riverlike veins, and his mouth puffed out warm air against the already sensitive skin. His pale digits toyed with his cock and wrapped and tightened around it, stroking ever so lightly. “Keep begging, kid, maybe you’ll get there.”

“You’re so mean—hnnng,” Jeongguk whined, “s-so mean, after I rode you so well last time.”

Yoongi laughed, “Rode me once and think you’re hot shit already? That how you should be treating your elders?”

The younger pouted, eyes clouded over with misty lust. “You’re not that much older, Grandpa.”

“Keep that up and I’ll think you have a grandpa kink or somethin’,” he jokingly jeered.

“I can feel my boner dying at this very second,” Jeongguk noted with a pointed glare at both Yoongi and his pained dick.

His lips curved into an amused grin. The kid could be a brat after all. He supposed Jeongguk had always gotten what he wanted, always was some sort of superman with how well he did everything he did. Now that Yoongi had the ball in his court, it was almost hilarious how conflicted Jeongguk looked when he had to sacrifice his pride to beg for more from the elder. “We can’t have that now, can we?” Yoongi grinned, finally dipping his head and showing some mercy towards the younger.

He mouthed along the cock and the heat of his lips seemed to be more than enough to drive the younger right out of his mind. His tongue dragged along the length and swirled around the head. Jeongguk was throbbing, his entire body clenching and relaxing according to Yoongi’s gestures. His moans filled the empty room as he relished in the sensations of the other’s ministrations.

“Look at you all pretty for me, Jeonggukie,” he murmured, teeth scraping gently along his cock. “I’ve never seen a prettier baby than you. You’re such a good boy, aren’t you, hm? Do you like this? Do you like hyung’s mouth on you?”

The words that tumbled from the elder’s throat had Jeongguk’s blood rushing through his veins, heartbeat thundering in his ears as he could feel waves of pleasure and tension crashing over him. “Y-yes, love it so much, hyung. Your mouth—fuck, mmm, feels s’good—you’re so—ahh, oh—please, please. It feels so good, hyung.”

“Good, pretty baby,” Yoongi cooed, placing his cock back into his mouth and sucking it deep. He bobbed his head to take in as much as he could of Jeongguk’s thick length inside of him. The younger’s body was shuddering with thrill as he twisted his fingers harder into Yoongi’s hair.

Yoongi couldn’t help himself, loved the way Jeongguk kept pulling at his hair. His desperation was palpable and crackling through the air. He groaned into the cock in his mouth, vibrations immediately carrying through Jeongguk’s entire being. His fingers played with his balls, clasping them tightly, and covered what his mouth couldn’t.

There was something so satisfying about the weight of Jeongguk’s dick in his mouth. A satisfying feeling of fullness as he licked and lapped at the length. The cock glistened with moisture underneath the studio lights and Jeongguk looked so pretty, all frenzied and short of breath. He would look even prettier if he were spread—

“Hyung, want you,” Jeongguk moaned, this time his hands halting Yoongi’s movement and pulling him away. “God, I want you inside me. P-please, miss the feel of your cock filling me up.”

Yoongi licked his lips. Fuck, this kid really was something else. For once (or maybe the second time) in his life, Yoongi was going to voluntarily break one of his rules. At least this time he knew Jeongguk was definitely no longer a virgin. “What do you want, Jeongguk-ah? Did you say you missed me? You liked my cock that much?”

Jeongguk voiced his complaint as he, with trembling fingers, pushed himself up and around, flipping over so his ass was in full view for Yoongi. And what a fucking fantastic ass it was. The younger's hands splayed out across the cheeks and pulled them apart. His puckered hole was beckoning Yoongi closer, begging him to stick his tongue in it until Jeongguk was a writhing mess or shove his cock in there to fill him up.

“God, you’re fuckin’ pretty, kid,” Yoongi grunted, dancing his fingers lightly along the smooth skin of his cheeks. The other twitched in response, nudging himself backwards to encourage him. “S’cute, what do you want?”

“Y-your cock,” Jeongguk whined almost pitifully. Need leaked into his tone, his breathlessness a clear indication of his strong urge for more. “Please, hyung, want your cock in me. Want you to fuck me stupid,” he moaned, pushing himself back again to press his bare ass against Yoongi’s front.

The friction had Yoongi biting back a groan. Those plump mounds would look so pretty swallowing up his length. “Let me prep you first.”

“No need,” he gasped, “M’loose—loose enough anyway. Fucked myself earlier.”

“Earlier?”

Jeongguk was growing more restless by the second, and he certainly seemed far from accommodating to Yoongi’s inquisition. “T-the bathroom, lunchtime. Just needed to get off. Kept thinking of you in your studio—fuck, you look so hot.”

His confession would make a priest blush and Yoongi’s mouth watered at the thought of Jeongguk shoving himself up against the wall of a tiny bathroom stall in the office, fingers buried deep and curling inside of him until his knees buckled. God, what a fuckin’ concept.

“So naughty, Jeonggukie,” Yoongi breathed, hand pressing down to give his ass a good squeeze. “Do you do that a lot? Fuck yourself in the office?”

“Hnng, n-no, not really—maybe, I don’t know—God, I can’t think right now,” Jeongguk choked and squirmed in agitation.

“Should give you a toy to stuff your ass next time, keep that in the entire day hm,” the elder was musing aloud, thinking about how a fantastic idea that would be. That seemed to only add fuel to the fire as Jeongguk released a deep, throaty sound to signal his pleasure.

Jeongguk whimpered, “Y-yeah, that would be good. Want a cock shoved up in me—maybe a dildo. Got a nice one at home.” He was rambling at that point and Yoongi took that opportunity to roll on a condom and slick it up with lube. Despite his distracted state with his wild imagination, Jeongguk’s words died in his throat the second the sloppy sounds of Yoongi stroking his wet cock resonated in the room. “Shit, oh my—fuck, hyung, please. I want you now. Want you to fuck me hard.”

Yoongi himself couldn’t wait any longer and wrapped a hand around his member to guide it towards Jeongguk’s hole. He traced the tip along the rim again and again, grazing over it teasingly. It was driving the younger insane because all he wanted was to be stuffed full of cock, craved that satisfying feeling of being completely and utterly fucked.

“Alright, you ready, Guk?”

The younger tossed a glare over his shoulder. “I’ve been ready for two hours now.”

“Sure it’s not the entire day? Heard someone fucked themselves in a public bathroom earlier.”

“Ha, you’re hilarious—” The drawl was dropped the second Yoongi squeezed himself into the tight tunnel. Jeongguk let out a long groan as his cock twitched in front of him. He could feel his entire body tensing to the familiar sensation of being filled up. “Fuck,” he moaned, “feels s’good. Shit, hyung, so good. Fuck me, please please please.”

Yoongi nodded and eased himself in and out slowly, almost torturously. He was doing his best to avoid hurting the boy but the pace he was setting seemed to only pain Jeongguk more. The man was pushing himself back to meet Yoongi’s tormenting rhythm.

“Goddamn, hyung, fuck me faster. I can’t feel shit right now,” Jeongguk protested childishly, his words complemented by a deep pout.

He almost forgot how bratty Jeongguk could be. This was why, that first time, he couldn’t believe that Jeongguk was a virgin. He seemed to know how to egg the elder on, how to provoke him to do his worst, which was exactly what he wanted. Yoongi did as he was asked and snapped his hips forward—hard. The entirety of his cock slipped inside the hole and, considering he wasn’t particularly big, was able to hit him balls deep.

“Shit, fuck, right there,” the man underneath him hiccuped, grinding his ass back against Yoongi. “Just like that. Harder. Faster.”

Yoongi followed suit and swung forward again. He pulled out his cock halfway, enough to have Jeongguk feeling empty and pissed when Yoongi stayed that way for far too long. Just as the younger was about to let another complain spill, Yoongi thrust back into him deep and started fucking into him at a speed that rendered the boy senseless. He was trembling all over, muscles tensing and relaxing in alternating motions.

The usual silence in the studio was quickly replaced by the sound of the younger’s pleasured voice and the sound of skin against skin. There was something hypnotizing and sexy about fucking in an empty studio, about knowing how he had colleagues and, if any of them were to work overtime, might be fortunate enough to catch them red-handed. Or, in Jeongguk’s case, bent over and fucked by the mysterious and private part-time producer, Min Yoongi.

“R-right there—oh man, fuck yes—aaah,” Jeongguk whined, squeezing his eyes shut as he let his entire body be consumed by the sheer wonder of Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi was enjoying himself as well, fucking into the boy and relishing Jeongguk’s sounds—a clear telltale that his body and sensations were bathing in gratification. “G-god, you’re so good at this. Fuckin’ me so good, hyung. Such a great cock, missed it a lot,” he grinned over his shoulder.

What a sight the kid was. Ass full of cock, hair matted against his forehead, and that gorgeous, confident smirk spread across his face. He was the personification of lust in that very moment and Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to argue otherwise considering he was taking pleasure in the very definition of sex in human form.

“You touching yourself, Guk?” Yoongi asked, chest heaving.

“N-no, do you want me to?” He sounded so small. Fuck, that was hot. Being shorter in stature himself, Yoongi thrived on the ability to make others bigger than him feel much smaller than him. It was a kink, sure. It was a particular kink when it came to Jeongguk who was fit and ripped and whose presence screamed loud.

“Do it, stroke yourself, baby,” he cooed, sliding in and out faster and harder. The corresponding noises were lewd and messy, just the way Yoongi liked it. The lube made it much too easy for him to fuck into Jeongguk, liquid dribbling down the boy’s thighs every time Yoongi pushed inside him.

Jeongguk was obedient, doing as he was told and reaching his hand down to touch himself. His cock was rock hard and pulsing painfully. He nearly cried with relief and hurt when he began to run his fingers along the tough length. “F-fuck, feels so good—goddammit,” he cursed.

Every time Yoongi pushed forward, Jeongguk would lurch along with the motion and fuck into his own hand. Each stroke of friction sent liquid fire shooting through his veins, the heat spreading quickly throughout his body.

In spite of his lack of experience with Jeongguk, the way the man was trembling was an indicator that he was close. So close. The stuttered breaths and expletives leaving his mouth were also more than enough to indicate the same. “Shit, shit, fuck—so good, gonna—oh fuck, waited so long for this. Hyung’s cock—fuck, so good. Wanna come, wanna fuckin’ come all over so badly. Please.”

“That so, Jeonggukie? You wanna be a messy baby?” Yoongi goaded, grinning to himself proudly when the younger shuddered with his words. “You like being made a mess, huh? Like being a little slut getting fucked open in a studio like this. Do you like being messy, baby?”

“Mmm, yes, hyung, l-love it. I wanna be a mess just for you—your mess,” Jeongguk hummed, ass fucking back so Yoongi would be pushing into him harder.

“You going to come all over yourself, baby? Are you going to come for hyung?”

Jeongguk nodded eagerly, his entire body shaking, “Y-yes, please please, can I, hyung? Can I come please?”

“Think you’ve been a good boy for me, baby?”

“Yes, yes! I’ve been so good, hyungie. Been so good to you,” Jeongguk pleaded desperately, voice growing more frantic. His words were slurring together and his tone begging.

“You’ve been so messy though, I don’t know if I like messy—”

“I’ll clean up! Please, I’ll be clean. I’ll clean up from now on.” At this point, the younger was saying anything to gain his orgasm. His hand was still tugging on his cock. The tip was throbbing, red coloring almost blue. He needed the release and Yoongi wasn’t as heartless as he himself believed.

With a feigned deep sigh, one that had Jeongguk’s stomach falling, Yoongi pursed his lips. “I mean—”

The forced disappointment in his tone was enough to have the younger pleading again. “P-please, hyung. Oh fuck, please. I’ll do anything. I’ll be so good to you, I promise. Just want your cock, nothing else. Make me your messy baby. I’ll be messy, I’ll be clean, whatever you want.”

There was a niggling feeling nagging at the back of Yoongi’s mind that Jeongguk’s words were treading on dangerous waters, one involving attachment that Yoongi wasn’t sure he wanted to venture into just yet. So he let the boy have exactly what he needed. “Okay, Jeonggukie, you can come. Go on, come for me. Show me how much you have inside of you, how messy you can be.”

Jeongguk’s lips part with his words, breath knotting in his throat as he allowed himself to let go. As Yoongi continued to jerk his hips into him, Jeongguk reached that sweet peak and spilled into his hand. White, sticky come coated his fingers quickly, dripping onto the couch and staining it with ivory. He was messy for sure and Yoongi would be lying if he said that didn’t turn him on.

He could feel his own climax chasing after him, clawing at his skin and begging to be released. “Fuck, t-that’s hot,” Yoongi groaned, “M’gonna come soon.”

The younger, ever breathless, was still tingling from his orgasm and quaking from the force of it, paused Yoongi’s movement. “W-wait, want you to come on my face. Please. Want your come on my face.”

Goddammit.

Yoongi was going to fucking burst with his words alone. He wasn’t a teenager but his limits seemed to have been tested with Jeongguk. “You sure? Your face?”

“Y-yeah,” Jeongguk breathed, quickly scrambling to lie on his back. He gestured for Yoongi to climb on top of him and the other did so, throwing his legs on either side of the man and hovered his cock over Jeongguk’s face.

As if to make things worse (or better), Jeongguk let his eyes slide shut as his jaw fell to pop his mouth open. His tongue stuck out, waiting patiently for the sweet nectar building up inside of Yoongi. “Fuck,” he groaned, yanking on his cock faster and squeezing harder, “you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this. Your ass is pretty, your face is pretty. Would look even prettier covered in my come.”

Jeongguk murmured his agreement and kept his mouth open, tongue hanging out and anticipating. It certainly didn’t take him very long to spiral down into temptation. His come soon streaked across Jeongguk’s face, splattering abstract lines across the boy’s beautiful face like a blank canvas painted over in a masterpiece. Jeongguk kept his mouth open, Yoongi’s come landing sweetly on his tastebuds. The white garnished the boy’s face prettily. The sight only impelled Yoongi on even more and he milked his cock as much as he could to get all of his pleasure out and onto the boy’s features.

It truly was something else to see Jeongguk when he was completely sober and coming down from his high. His beauty was unrivaled and Yoongi couldn’t deny how fucking gorgeous he looked with Yoongi’s come all over his face. Jeongguk closed his mouth and swallowed the liquid that had ended up on his tongue, throat moving with the action.

God, he was fucking beautiful.

However, the guilt for making a whole mess took over quickly and he reached for tissues to offer the younger. Jeongguk took it with a nearly inaudible thanks and began to wipe himself down. Yoongi, unsure of what to do, leaned back against the couch in full, naked glory. There was no denying how satisfied he was, the adrenaline dissipating from his veins as fast as it came.

Jeongguk was next to him, drying himself up and removing the mess from his face.

The silence that ensued was deafening. It was as if a contraption had taken hold of the air and squeezed all the oxygen out of it. Gone was the intensity of the atmosphere, leaving an awkward aftertaste. Yoongi cleared his throat, Jeongguk didn’t look like he was breathing. The two sat side by side and Yoongi couldn’t think of a time more awkward than this, not even the time he caught his roommate jerking to Elton John in tears.

Yoongi licked his lips and made the first move, reaching for his crumpled shirt on the floor to slip it on. Jeongguk fumbled to do the same, fingers seeming to tremble with the force of nature. The two got dressed in the utter quietness, neither one of them saying a word to ease the tension weighing heavy in the room.

As the elder shifted over to clean up his music notes and tidy up his studio, Jeongguk took note and packed up his work, shoving everything into his backpack distractedly.

“So, you heading back?” Yoongi coughed, prompting the younger to jerk up and whirl around. He swung around so fast, the elder worried that he might’ve gotten whiplash.

Jeongguk pinked, gaze finding the mirror and trailing down his neck where Yoongi had left his mark. His eyes danced with something akin to hunger. His glance flicked back up to meet Yoongi’s. Instead of addressing how Yoongi had basically mauled the other man over, Jeongguk only cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

“Cool—” Cool? That’s the best you could do, Min? “Let’s walk over to the station then.” Even if Yoongi hated painstakingly awkward situations, the last thing he wanted was for Jeongguk to risk his life at ass o’clock because he got some dick from a fool like him.

There was a pause in which Jeongguk tilted his head, eyes widening ever so slightly, as a small smile painted itself on his face. “Okay,” he spoke softly, voice quiet in the thundering of Yoongi’s heartbeat.

The walk to the station felt longer than it usually did. The space between them growing by the second. Jeongguk’s long legs took him a step further than Yoongi each time, but he always slowed down and adjusted according to how Yoongi moved. They fell into step together and, although Yoongi appreciated the gesture, appreciated Jeongguk, there was a strange bubbling in his stomach that had the hairs on his skin rising.

He had a good time with Jeongguk, sure. But what about the aftermath? This wasn’t supposed to happen again. He already had his qualms with the idea of fucking Jeongguk the first time around, and he was foolish enough to do it a second time. Instead of resolving whatever past issues he had with Jeongguk and his emotions, he ended up caught in a tighter struggle in these tangling vines. Instead of finding answers, he was left with more questions and doubts that had his stomach churning uncomfortably.

Yoongi was a man of certainty. He was certain of his aspirations, certain of his preferences, but Jeongguk had stained a grey area in his black and white.

“Well, this is me,” Jeongguk stated slowly as his train arrived at the platform. Yoongi looked up, pressing his lips together and glancing at the moving machine to avoid Jeongguk’s eyes.

“Get home safe, Jeongguk,” he breathed finally just as the doors opened.

When he finally met the younger’s eyes, it seemed as if he had more to say. His eyes had always been so big and expressive—windows to the soul as people say. However, after a moment of searching Yoongi’s, he managed a small smile, shaking his head to himself with thoughts Yoongi wasn’t privy to. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hyung.”

With one last salute, he was climbing aboard with the doors closing behind him. Yoongi was left in the sudden silence, the rattling of the rails absent to grant room for his pervasive anxiousness.

He didn’t quite know what to do. But one thing was for sure—he was screwed.

The thing with Yoongi was that he never reacted well to news that rocked his boat. His nerves had the tendency of leaping from one end to another, zapping and frying his entire brain and rational thinking.

This time was no different. The entire ride home, through the loud, metallic screeching of the tracks, and as even as he made his way up to his apartment and lied down on his bed, the image of Jeongguk’s face—all of them, a series of images—flashed through his mind. The boy’s expressions morphing from one emotion to the next—the happiness shining through his hazel eyes, his desire reflected in the parting of his lips and the creases of his temple, and what seemed to be understanding painted on the softness of the curl of his lips.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how he could possibly face him and pretend as if everything could go back to normal again. He had painted his face in come, had let filthy words tumble from his lips, had let his pale fingers bruise the younger’s skin, and had stuffed his cock inside of him.

Twice.

There were a lot of things that Yoongi failed to not regret in life, this was just another strike on the list.

Returning to work on lack of sleep was something he was used to. However, returning to work on lack of sleep and with the most excruciatingly conflicting emotions plaguing his every thought was the worst. Even the blackest of coffees could not save him from this misery.

As if to make matters worse, the second he stepped into the studio, he spotted Jeongguk coming down the hallway with a pile of files stacked up to the top of his head. Yoongi did what he did best—run. He quickly slipped into another room and waited until he heard Jeongguk’s footsteps walk past and fade away.

“What a coincidence to see you here.” The voice that chirped from his side had him jerking back to reality, heart rate picking up in panic. Yoongi whirled around to see Hoseok smirking at him. “Missed me that much?”

“You’re hilarious,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, creaking the door open again to glimpse into the hallway.

Hoseok leaned against the soundboard, tilting his head curiously. Having been so caught up with his work and with Jeongguk, Yoongi hadn’t really had the time to spare for a few of his friends—or ex-hookups, namely Jung Hoseok. The two had met in college, ended up in the same company for an internship and, well, had previously fucked. Once—or maybe thrice. This was before they landed the same jobs and Yoongi had to cut off the hooking up because work took over his life. Hoseok had taken it in stride has he did a lot of things. It wasn’t as if he was at a shortage of men lining up to please him.

Though, even Hoseok wouldn’t be able to deny that Yoongi held a soft spot in his heart. And his pants.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, why do you look like you’re hiding?” Hoseok asked, curiosity piqued before Yoongi could mask his expression with disinterest.

The elder of the two cleared his throat, “Just, you know, the boss.”

“Boss is out for the week, you know this. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi pinched his lips, “anyway, I should get going—”

“You know,” Hoseok started, halting Yoongi’s steps, “if you wanted to see me so badly, you should’ve just asked. You have my number, Yoongi.”

The other man snapped a glare his way. “That is not why I came in here.”

“So why did you?”

“Just—” How did he manage to dig this deep of a hole himself? “—wanted to check out the equipment, I heard you got some new stuff from tech.”

“Nothing you don’t have, Mr. Perfectionist. Your setup is complete and flawless. Do you wanna keep lying so I can keep prying?” Hoseok grinned, knowing full well that he had won this battle. “Or—” he tapped his lip thoughtfully, drawing Yoongi’s gaze to the pretty pink “—did you want to see me for something else?”

Yoongi’s muddled brain took some time to process the statement and it must’ve given Hoseok the wrong idea as he stepped closer and closer until he had Yoongi caged against the wall. “W-wait, what are you doing?”

“You have my number, hyung,” Hoseok beamed again, that blinding, charming smile dancing mischievously on his face.

“Christ, you’re unbelievable,” Yoongi huffed and the other man only laughed as he took a step back. “I’m leaving now. Don’t try anything else.”

“My doors and pants are always open for you, hyung,” he sang just before the door slammed in his face. Yoongi already had one mess to deal with, he most definitely did not need another to add into the equation.

Avoiding Jeongguk throughout the day turned out to be more troublesome than he thought. He didn’t realize how much he saw the boy around the workplace until he actively tried not to. When he locked himself up in the studio, he couldn’t help but be grateful that he had a ‘do not disturb’ function on his door that kept outsiders away. Including Jeongguk.

(Yoongi was pretty bummed that he didn’t get to hear Jeongguk’s pleasant “good morning, hyung” with that crinkly-eyed, teethy smile—but he would take this to the grave)

When work time was over, Yoongi usually escaped with either:

leaving before the sun even set and taking his work home (not preferred as he hated leaving with unfinished tasks)

pretending that he couldn’t hear the light knocking on the door or the pacing which was sure to be Jeongguk outside his room (this was miserable but easier)

Over the course of the week, he tried all sorts of avoidance tactics. He wasn’t quite sure why—that was a lie, he knew precisely why. Yoongi didn’t think he was ready to face the consequences of his actions, including Jeongguk—sweet, sweet Jeongguk who had been nothing but kind to him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like the kid. Of course, he liked him to a certain degree. Yoongi just wasn’t sure how he felt about this entire thing and he would rather postpone The Talk for as long as possible rather than dealing with it.

Don’t try this at home, kids.

Eventually, these things came back to bite him in the ass. And in fact, it did. See, Yoongi tried his best to live life the way he wanted—to the fullest, or as full as he could get. But this mistake might have saved him weeks of effort and suffering in which he realized he was a complete and utter fool.

Yoongi hadn’t noticed the beep of his door, heavily engrossed in tuning the demo he was working on. His hands moved across the dials and shifts on his setup, his ears covered by the headphones and the music dancing in his mind—

“What’s up, Yoongs?”

A curse left his mouth as he accidentally twisted one of the dials too far. Yanking off his headphones and turning around, Yoongi pinned the devil himself with a glare.

“Oh, scary,” Hoseok only laughed, unfazed. He had gotten used to being on the receiving end of that look whenever he disrupted Yoongi’s work, not that it made him do it any less. “I feel like you haven’t left this studio for days now.”

“Did you switch on the do not disturb function again?” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow and cracking his neck. He had been in his studio for quite some time, but it was nothing new. Hoseok just wanted an excuse to pop by, which reminded him— “I really should get that lock password changed.”

Two people knew his passcode — one was Hoseok (a Mistake) and the other was Jeongguk whom he gave this privilege just because he came around so much, Yoongi couldn’t be bothered to open the door for him any longer.

Hoseok pouted, “Why? You don’t want me coming in here unannounced?”

“No.”

“Cold,” he chuckled, giving a little feigned shiver for good measure. “You look tired, you should get some rest.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the younger who was smiling much too brightly, flushed too deeply. “And you’re drunk, you should go home.”

“I’m not drunk,” Hoseok rolled his eyes, swaying a little as he stepped closer to Yoongi, “just a little tipsy. Not drunk. Tipsy.” He enunciated the last word very slowly, which gave away that he was, in fact, drunk.

“Seok-ah—”

Hoseok pulled Yoongi up and seated him against the board, trapping him in and catching Yoongi before he could run. He hummed and nuzzled his nose against Yoongi’s before moving down to bury his face in his neck. Inhaling deeply, Hoseok’s breath tickled Yoongi’s skin and—wow, it had been so long. Although Hoseok may be the complete antithesis of Yoongi, their physical chemistry had been undeniable.

“Fuck,” the younger groaned, “missed you a lot, hyung. Haven’t had cock like yours in so long.”

No, no. Yoongi could feel himself getting heated and that definitely wasn’t what he wanted when Hoseok was like this—nor did he really want Hoseok. He knew this was his dick talking, but his dick was talking very loudly. “Alright, Seok, time to go home.”

“Just a little bit—please,” Hoseok begged, eyes blown up in such a way that made Yoongi both pissed and soft. “Just a little kiss,” he stuck out his bottom lip adorably.

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

Instead of whining more, Hoseok huffed and rolled his eyes before crashing his lips down against the elder. His mouth moved fast, lips sucking in Yoongi’s as his tongue slipped in between. Yoongi’s knees faltered in surprise, his hands latching onto the younger’s arms for support. Hoseok must’ve taken that as encouragement because his hands slipped down to cup the other’s bottom as he drew him closer, pressing his noticeable boner against him.

Yoongi, as any other human would do with someone like Hoseok, reacted almost unconsciously. He moved his lips against Hoseok mindlessly, enjoying the softness of his lips. Hoseok tasted familiar with a tinge of alcohol.

But, for the first time, there was a feeling pulling at his gut that raised red flags. Something about this was just… wrong.

He didn’t know how long they stood there with their lips glued together, Yoongi trying his best to calm the sudden shaking of his nerves and Hoseok relishing the other man’s company. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes that he realized the light streaming in from outside his studio.

Because his door was open.

And Jeongguk was standing right there.

Yoongi should’ve known better that his carelessness and indecision would get to him someday. And that day happened to be it. Before he could even blink a second time to really process that the guy he had just slept with, the guy who made Yoongi’s studio a little warmer, a little brighter, and his heart a little lighter and heavier all the same, had seen him kissing another man, Jeongguk was gone.

The door closed with a resounding click that echoed much too loud in the small room. Suddenly, his studio felt suffocating, the space seemed to engulf him.

“Hoseok, get off,” he muttered as he shoved the other man off.

Hoseok looked at him in a daze, confusion evident in his expression. “S-sorry, shit, I really thought you were into it.”

Yoongi did too. Yoongi wished he was — or maybe he didn’t. Because this spoke volumes of what Yoongi was feeling — whatever it was that he couldn’t quite comprehend. But Jeongguk. It said a thousand words about how he felt about Jeongguk. Attached, affection.

And he had messed it all up.

Even then, Yoongi’s feet couldn’t bring him to move and he perhaps had let Jeongguk turn into another one that got away.

After his brief epiphany and after Hoseok left him to have yet another existential crisis, Yoongi resolved that he should at least talk to the boy or give him some time of day. Communication is key as everyone says. Maybe it’s time to start listening to the masses.

So, for once, Yoongi swallowed his pride — and it was difficult to take down — and walked up to Jeongguk’s cubicle. The interns worked in little boxes separated from the higher ups in the company. While Yoongi had been promoted enough to be granted his own studio, Jeongguk was still left to be cramped into a tiny square. This was probably why he enjoyed being in Yoongi’s space so much.

He peeked around the nonexistent door, seeing Jeongguk hunched over his laptop. Licking his lips, Yoongi braved himself. “Jeongguk,” he started.

The other whipped around so fast it seemed as if he was about to crack his bones. “Hyung.” His voice was barely a breath and his eyes — fuck, his eyes — looked absolutely pained. That wasn’t a look he ever wanted to see on anyone, especially not Jeongguk. His heart ached at the sight and knowing he had been the cause of it had guilt eating him inside out.

“Do you want to, um, maybe grab lunch with me?”

Jeongguk’s eyes flashed with another glint of pain. He glanced away for a second before turning back to his computer. “It’s fine, I’m sort of busy.”

“Guk-ah—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine,” Jeongguk said, his back still facing Yoongi.

He didn’t like it. It was strange facing Jeongguk’s back. They’ve always stood side by side or face to face. Even when Yoongi wasn’t looking at him, Jeongguk was usually facing his back. He had never been on the other side of it, had never realized how shitty it felt, and he wondered how Jeongguk had put up with it for so long.

“You’re obviously upset, look I—” Yoongi stepped inside the room, drawing closer to him.

The younger visibly stiffened at the sound of his footfall. “Stop.” Yoongi did. “Don’t come closer. Please.”

Yoongi wanted to reach out, wanted to touch him again. He thought back to the winter night when Jeongguk held his hand, his giggle ringing clear in the brisk air, and how his warmth had radiated against Yoongi’s cool skin.

“I get it,” Jeongguk began this time, “we were just dicking around. Please just go, I just—I don’t want you to see me like this. Okay?”

Not okay. Yoongi wanted to argue and push Jeongguk to talk, to scream at him, to just look at him. But he couldn’t be selfish — not when he has been so countless times to Jeongguk.

“I—alright, take care, Guk. Don’t forget to eat lunch, yeah?”

The other man didn’t respond and instead their silence is filled by the light tapping of Jeongguk’s fingers on his keyboard. He still hadn’t turned around and Yoongi left quietly with his heart in his throat.

Yoongi hadn’t realized before, had been so caught up in avoiding his feelings and processing them, how different things were without Jeongguk around. He hadn’t noticed how much time Jeongguk spent lounging around in his studio or doing work, how many times he greeted him in the hallways and dropped silly jokes that had him hiding his smile. The absence was almost tangible. The weight of his disappearance was a sudden burden upon his shoulders.

And thus, it was clear what would transpire. Yoongi’s moods deflated almost instantly. He was bitter and snappy, scaring away anyone who dared ring the door to his room. And it wasn’t as if he was trying to hide it — in fact, he made great attempts to show it.

“Jesus, can you stop the sulking?” Namjoon frowned, hitting him in the face with a carrot stick. As if Jeongguk ignoring him wasn’t bad enough, Namjoon was on a healthy binge and that meant that their fridge was cleansed of all fast food and ice cream — everything Yoongi needed to properly sulk.

“I’m not,” he pouted.

“Okay, what happened?”

Yoongi gave him a face that said everything. “Nothing.”

His roommate rolled his eyes, “Alright, let’s not play dumb here. Just tell me. Hit me with it. Did you fuck up with something?”

Yoongi’s frown deepened.

“Let me guess, you fucked that devirginized slash intern guy again.”

Yoongi dropped his head onto the table.

“Oh lord,” Namjoon huffed, turning around to reach to the top shelf behind him where he pulled out a bag of chips. “Tell daddy all about it.”

“The fuck, you have chips? What happened to your diet?”

“The fact that you responded to that and not my calling myself daddy means this is bad. Now come on, talk to me.” Namjoon paused, “Also, I have cheat days, cut me some slack.”

So he did. He told him everything, rambling on about how adorable and sweet Jeongguk was, how he shat sunshine out of his ass, and how he had fucked the kid again and started ignoring him and then the whole Hoseok mess.

“Let me get this straight, you fucked him, then you ignored him, then he walked in on you attempting to fuck someone else—”

“I was not attempting to fuck Hoseok!”

“Well, that wasn’t what it looked like to him, was it?” He had a point. “Then he started ignoring you.”

Yoongi sighed, “Basically.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything for a long while and, when the elder looked up, Namjoon was frowning and glaring at him so hard, it looked as if his face was about to burst.

“What?”

“You’re kidding me right? You’re sulking because of this when the answer is so simple?”

Yoongi threw a withering look his way, “Not everyone’s a genius like you.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that all you need to do is talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Namjoon licked his lips, looking up to the heavens as if to ask why the gods were testing his patience. “You tried once. Once. The kid likes you a lot, why not use that to your advantage? The worst he could do is say no, but what have you got to lose?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi muttered.

“Why don’t you talk to him again? And maybe, I don’t know, ask him out properly. Take him out for milkshakes or a handjob at the movies.”

The elder moaned, rolling his forehead on the countertop. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up. I don’t even know how I feel, how am I going to deal with this?”

Namjoon smiled softly, patting his friend, “He seems like a good kid, he’ll listen.”

Guess it was finally time to get his balls back.

The following day, by the time lunchtime rolled around, Yoongi was sweating bullets. He finally gathered up the courage to pop by Jeongguk’s cubicle again, speech ready in mind. Straight to the point. Apologize and explain, then maybe ask him out depending on how he reacts to the apology. Perfect.

Except, he walked into the cubicle to see Taehyung, another intern, sitting on Jeongguk’s lap and giggling. Jeongguk was scowling affectionately, amusement dancing in his eyes, as he struggled to get Taehyung off him. However, when Taehyung’s eyes wandered to the door and widened in surprise, Jeongguk realized that they weren’t alone. He turned to find Yoongi standing there slack-jawed, the words on the tip of his tongue fizzling into the thick air.

“H-hyung!” he quickly shoved his friend off, Taehyung stumbling to his feet and glaring. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi eyed them cautiously. Were they a thing? Should he be here? Should he stay after this? Maybe they were—stop. Talking to him was important. No more miscommunication. “I… wanted to talk,” he said slowly.

It was clear that the conversation was not about to be a light one. The two glanced at Taehyung awkwardly and Taehyung stared at them awkwardly before understanding dawned upon him. Grinning, he skipped out of the room with a “good luck.”

He wasn’t sure if he was referring to Yoongi or Jeongguk.

Jeongguk shifted awkwardly in his seat, trapping his hands between his thighs (don’t think about his thighs, don’t do it, Yoongi) and peering up at him from his seat. “What’s up?”

“Do you have time after work? I’ll buy you a drink.”

Hurt flickered in the younger’s eyes. God, Yoongi was already fucking this up and he wasn’t even sure how. Jeongguk breathed shakily, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

His heart stopped. Yoongi couldn’t breathe. “Or, dinner,” he scrambled, “I can buy you dinner. Lamb skewers from the cart outside? Or proper dinner, I can do too.”

“Hyung,” Jeongguk murmured.

“I really want to talk to you, Guk-ah,” Yoongi emphasized, stepping inside the room and closer to the boy.

He looked conflicted for a moment, eyes darting around the room as if he was weighing out his options. Yoongi prayed to the higher powers that things would go his way—just this once. This one time he had courage. “Alright,” Jeongguk agreed, “I’m staying a bit late though to finish something for the big boss.”

“Yeah, s’fine,” Yoongi said much too quickly, tongue tripping over his words, “I’ll wait for you.”

Jeongguk softened and nodded, “Okay, see you later.”

By the time Jeongguk finished and knocked on his door, the sun had already set and the clock had just hit nine. They bundled up in thick coats before moving outside. It was a little chilly for a spring day and Yoongi almost instantly reddened from the cold. Jeongguk giggled at the sight of Yoongi’s glowing, rosy nose.

Yoongi’s heart hurt because he loved that sound so much and didn’t know how much he missed it until that moment.

They ended up settling for a barbecue restaurant two blocks away from the studio. Thankfully, the atmosphere wasn’t too heavy with the noises all around them. Even this late at night, the restaurant was still packed with patrons. From the clanking of metallic utensils to the sizzling of meat on each grill, the place was alive.

As Yoongi worked on flipping each piece of meat, Jeongguk fidgeted uncomfortably across from him. It was only after the two had a little food inside them that Yoongi began. “Listen, I fucked up.”

Jeongguk winced, “No, no you didn’t. You never promised anything more and that’s okay. I’m a kid after all.” He laughed, voice strained. “I wasn’t sure what was going on—I mean, you know, we did it again. So I thought—hey, maybe there’s something more here. But that was all on me, you never led me on or anything, but I took it that way. Thought when you were avoiding me you just needed more time, but should’ve known better. It’s my fault for taking advantage of you.”

The elder’s brows puckered in confusion, “Why are you apologizing? I’m the asshole here, I’m supposed to be saying sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jeongguk insisted.

“No, I was stupid,” Yoongi grimaced, taking a deep breath. “When I first met you, I thought you were incredible. You were this shy, vibrant kid who had a lot of passion for music and I liked that. I dug that a lot. Then we slept together and I thought you were still pretty cool and, just, I was scared. The last virgin I slept with ended up getting emotionally attached to me and—yeah, let’s just say it wasn’t a fun time. So I thought the same thing was going to happen with you.

“But you’re different, Jeongguk. It sounds cliché and stupid, but you are. You’re sincere and you’ve always been the more mature one out of the two of us. I was terrified of this whole thing mainly because I don’t really have experience with it, and the whole feelings thing—” he groaned, Jeongguk chuckled “—I’m—it’s not that I don’t feel things, I just don’t really know how to handle it when it comes like a bitchslap to the face.”

Jeongguk simpered quietly, “You’re saying your feelings about me slapped you in the face?”

“Felt like it, yeah. That whole lightbulb moment.”

“So, what you’re trying to say is, you were scared I would get attached because I, as you believed, was a virgin before I met you, and I did end up getting attached but not because of that, but now you’re attached too?”

Well, when he put it that way, it sounded so simple. “I guess—no, I mean, yeah. That’s exactly it.”

“So you like me?”

“Um, yes,” Yoongi squinted, unsure if it were a trick question.

“Like, like like me?”

Yoongi pulled a face. “Dude, we’re not five. Yes, I like you—in a way that I want to take you out to dinner and then have you for dessert in my bed.”

“God, yes,” Jeongguk groaned. Don’t get hard, Yoongi. “I want that. I mean, you’re bad at emotions or whatever but we’ll figure this out. Don’t worry. We’ll do it together.”

“Wait, so you do want me? Like you really want me?”

“How is this different from me asking if you like like me?”

The elder huffed, “I’m just being careful.”

“You’re cute.”

Yoongi tinged a deep pink. “Thanks?”

“Also, I wasn’t a virgin.”

He blinked.

“I don’t know what made you think that but I wasn’t.”

“Wait, but you—thanked me? After the sex?”

Jeongguk shrugged, a ghost of a smile still dancing on his lips. “It’s just a thank you for a good time. Common courtesy, you know.”

Yoongi was going to kill Namjoon. How was he always right?

“Fuck, you’re too cute,” the elder huffed fondly.

It was Jeongguk’s turn to blush. “Thanks, glad you think so.”

“So, uh, any plans after this?”

“You trying to offer to take me home?”

“Maybe.”

“To fuck?”

“It’s a school night, you’ve got classes tomorrow so no.”

Jeongguk pouted, “But it’s just sex.”

“Don’t you kids have a curfew?”

“Dude.”

To tie up this cheesy, little tale, Yoongi had to admit that he was an absolute fool for the entirety of his start with Jeongguk. The kid was sweet and a hard-worker. He was everything Yoongi liked in a person and more.

They took turns sleeping at each other’s places, sometimes ending up in the studio to cuddle whenever Jeongguk finished a tough exam or Yoongi winded down from working on a track too long. They would fuck each other one day, and snuggle another.

A year later, they’re working on getting their own apartment. With Yoongi working more hours, he picked up a place closer to the studio and—well, he had invited Jeongguk to stay with him if he’d like. Jeongguk didn’t even blink once before he jumped on the offer. Living together meant sharing chores and Yoongi liked the domesticity, liked that he vacuumed and scrubbed the dishes while Jeongguk did laundry and rinsed the plates.

Jeongguk was thoughtful and, turned out, he really did always thank Yoongi and curl up into his boyfriend (Jeongguk cried every time Yoongi called him that) after they slept together (he didn’t like to admit it but Jeongguk loved being the little spoon). When Yoongi made dinner as best he could, Jeongguk would reward him with a blowjob or a cuddling session—both equally as wonderful that Namjoon would gag to either one.

Yoongi didn’t think this was where his life would go, especially not with this entire mess, but for now, he was just grateful that he got his happy ending.

#bts #yoongi #jungkook #yoonkook #bts smut #bts angst #yoonkook smut #yoonkook angst #yoonkook fic #yoonkook fanfiction #bts fic #anyway THIS CAUSED ME SO MUCH PAIN AND IM JUST GLAD I CAN RELEASE IT INTO THE WILD #i love yoonkook my children

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