#suga drabble

[yoonmetogether]

Hook, Line & Stinker

A Min Yoongi one-shot pairing: workaholic!dom!yoongi x needy!brat!fem reader feat. hoseok genre: est. relationship, pwp rating: M for mature and explicit content. No one under 18 should interact summary: you love your boyfriend, but it really sucks when he holes himself up in his studio for days at a time, leaving you at home alone. when you visit him to make sure he's still alive and well, you have no intention of dragging him away from his work. but is there anything wrong with a little distraction in the form of lingerie? warnings: jealousy, angst, (blonde snapback) yoongi is moody, reader feels neglected and pushes his buttons, arguments, there's no infidelity but reader pretends she takes an offer on a date w/ hobi and yoongi worries bc of insecurities and then brings up his ex, under the desk bj, exhibitionism kink, unprotected sex (if he doesn't wrap it, don't let him tap it!), rough make-up sex, oral (m. and f. receiving), spanking, spitting, light choking, multiple orgasms, i think this is pretty filthy, reader gets upset but yoongi takes care of her, they kiss & make-up & talk about boundaries, they love each other, fluff ending, this is my first time posting something like this so please let me know if i missed any tags!!! wc: 10.8k 🤪 also shoutout to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo who gave me feedback in bullet-points for this, honestly the best!!!

You punch in the code to Yoongi’s studio (which just so happens to be your birthday), slightly irked that you have to come all this way because your boyfriend wants to continue to be a workaholic after you’ve lectured him countless times about the importance of taking a break. So you arrive with food and a cute lil outfit you think will help distract him.

Upon entering, you see he is deeply entranced by his screen and you can hear the echoes of music blasting through his headphones. You quietly maneuver inside and set the bag of takeout on the coffee table before tiptoeing up behind his chair and slowly reaching up to his shoulders. You roughly grab them and laugh at the way he jumps and tears off his headphones.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims as he turns to see who just scared the shit out of him. 

“Deng! Guess again,” you say with a grin, leaning down to kiss him on the head. When you go to poke his nose, he bats your hand away and mumbles.

“You could’ve given me a heart attack.”

“Well, that’s one way to get you out of the studio. Give you a ride home in an ambulance. I never thought of that,” you sneer playfully, giggling when he glares at you. You slide back to the food on the table. 

“Come eat, Min PD.” 

“I’m almost done,” he grumbles and turns to face his desk. You roll your eyes. 

“No, sir. You need to eat or you’re gonna make yourself sick, and guess who has to take care of you,” you scold as you tug on the back of his chair to twist him around and he looks up at you with a whine. You would never want him to get sick, but if he does, you'd love to baby him, and not just because you'd find it amusing how he'd act like he didn't like it as he has many times before. You've learned over the course of your relationship that he can take care of himself when he's sick, but now that you live together, he's been known to ham up his symptoms so you'll dote on him hand and foot. And he does just the same for you, even goes out of his way sometimes. One time he called off work for an entire week when you got the flu and wouldn't hear any of your arguments that you were fine alone.

“I will! I just need a couple minutes.” 

You click your tongue. “A couple minutes to you is like eight hours. I swear, you go through a time warp every time you come in here. You know it's been three days since I last saw you? Let’s go.”

You grab onto his arm and tug him, but he goes slack in his chair and makes protesting noises as you drag him towards the coffee table, laughing when he stretches his other arm at his desk like he’s being pulled away from a long-lost friend. 

“You are such a drama queen,” you sigh as you let go of his arm.

“I was almost done,” he pouts, crossing his arms. You roll your eyes as you take out the food you brought.

“Sure, sure. Just eat real quick and you can finish in 'a couple minutes,’” you say sarcastically with air quotes, and he scowls, nonetheless leans forward to reluctantly grab the box of food you hand him. 

You walk around the edge of the table and stop in front of him. You smile as he begins to eat his noodles, so you grab his chin.

“Good boy,” you quip, and lean down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, catching him off guard. 

He coughs a bit as he processes what you said and watches you with wide eyes as you sit down in his lap. You laugh at his expression as you open your container of food and grab a pair of chopsticks. You both sit in silence and eat, glancing at him every now and as he chews with his head down, a line drawn between his brows that looks like he’s trying to figure out something. 

“How’s your food?” you ask before taking a sip from your bottle of water.

“Good,” he grumbles without looking at you. “Thanks.” 

You shift to get more comfortable in his lap and he starts to chew faster.

After he nudges you off his lap and helps you clean up, he turns around to scoot his chair back to his desk.

“Thanks for coming by and all, but I think you should leave."

You scoff, mildly hurt. “Why?”

“Because I know what you’re trying to do.”

You realize what he means and the brat in you makes an appearance, so you throw your hair haughtily over your shoulder and slyly walk up to his chair, sliding a hand down his arm.

“And what is that exactly?”

“You’re trying to distract me, but it’s not working,” he says through curled lips, staring at his screen.

“No?” you smirk. You squat and fold your elbows on the arms of his chair, propping your chin up on your wrist. “How am I being distracting? All I did was bring you food.” 

He turns his head to glare at you, but his Adam's apple bobs when he looks down at your position, how your legs are spread to reveal the meat of your thighs, then at how you smile at him in a pseudo-innocent way. 

“Exhibit A, B and C,” he says, gesturing to your legs, tits, and face.

You grin. “What? I’m just looking at you.” Your voice however drips in seduction. 

He shakes his head and looks back at his screen, trying to stay strong. 

“Precisely.”

Your tongue pokes into your cheek in amusement and a devilish lightbulb flashes in your mind. 

“How is me looking at you so distracting?” you ask, settling on your knees before gliding a hand over his leg. “Wouldn’t it be something more like this?” 

His mouth pulls into a thin line as he struggles to keep his eyes focused up. You slowly push at his leg to move him towards you so you can rise in between his knees, smiling at the way he refuses to look at you. You begin to slide your hands up his thigh, licking your lips as you head for his crotch, but he catches your wrist.

“Don’t,” he commands, now looking down at you with a serious expression.

Undeterred, you push your bottom lip out in the brattiest pout, and the severe clench in his jaw shows how hard he's fighting to keep his guard up. 

“You’re just so stressed, and I want to help you… relax.” 

He closes his eyes and swallows, and you just know he's trying to keep his imagination away from thoughts not suited for work.

“I appreciate that, baby, but I’m almost done here and when I am, I’m all yours, okay?” He lets go of your wrist to smooth out your pout with his thumb. 

You believe him, but still, you want to bother him after he hasn't paid attention to you in a few days.

“Fine,” you sigh and start to stand up. “Well, I guess I can’t ask you for your advice on what I bought. If I want to return it, today is my last day, so it’s now or never.” 

You only take one step away when his hand grabs your wrist. You smile. Hook, line, and stinker. 

You look back in faux confusion. He licks his lips and swallows, hesitant yet desperate to find out what you’re talking about.

“What do you need my advice on?”

Without hesitation, your hands fly to the hem of your shirt. “Oh, just this.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath as you tear off your shirt to reveal a lavender corset bra. The lace is embroidered with delicate floral designs to reveal the lower half of your breast, just barely covering your nipples, and parts of your ribcage below. His throat goes dry. 

“It has a matching thong too. Wanna see?” Your question is rhetorical because you give him no time to breathe as you unbutton your shorts. You bend over to shimmy them down your legs, making a show of wiggling so your breasts move side to side. 

You kick your shorts to the side and stand straight, carding your hair out of your face before placing your hands on your hips and standing confidently in front of him. 

“So, what do you think?” you ask, cocking your head to the side as his wide eyes go up and down your form. 

“It’s pretty,” he swallows, biting his lip to ignore the twitch in his boxers. 

“Oh, see how it looks from behind.” You twirl around and adjust the clips of the corset then the hem of your thong, sticking your ass out in the process. “Isn’t it cute?” Yoongi is screwed. 

You look at him from over your shoulder. “Do you like it?” 

He nods, barely hearing you as his eyes train on the way the string of the thong disappears between your cheeks. You smirk when his tongue pokes out just over his teeth.

“The lace is really soft too. Here, feel,” you say, spinning back around and walking up to him, rubbing your fingers over the lace below your breast. 

He swallows, wanting so bad to reach out and touch, but knowing if he does, it’s over for him, he’ll lose. But shit, you look good as fuck, and he can’t help but give in. 

You grin as he reaches his hand out to feel the lace and he hums in approval.

“It’s nice,” he says, voice deep and starting to give away his desire.

“It’s even better here,” you say, gripping his wrist to plant his hand on your breast and he purrs as he lets his fingers squeeze your flesh. 

You let him massage for a second or two and judging by his face he looks closer to giving into your distraction, but you'll wait.

“Okay, since you like it, I won’t return it,” you say, dropping his hand and turning to grab your shorts off the ground. “Thanks! I’ll let you get back to work.” 

You bend over again to pick up your shirt, your ass right in his line of sight and he can’t deny the rock-hard bulge in his jeans. 

“I’ll see you when you get home,” you say as you walk over to the table but his low voice rumbles through the sound-proof studio.

“Get your ass back here,” his words shoot straight to your core, the string of your thong growing wet. 

“I thought you said you have to work,” you say innocently. 

“Right now,” he growls, and you move towards him like a magnet. 

Once again next to his chair, he slides his fingers underneath the lavender straps stretching over your hips to cup your exposed ass. Your skin flares hot when he squeezes.

“I don’t want to distract you.”

His dark eyes filled with lust shoot up to you and flicker with anger.

“It’s a little fuckin’ late for that, doll,” he grits. “You made a problem and now you’re going to fix it.” He moves his other hand to palm his bulge. Your eyes widen at the motion, and you cross your legs because, shit, you want to sit on that so bad.

“And then you’re going to leave and let me finish what you interrupted and wait for me to come home.” 

“Yeah? Then what?”

His lips curl in what could be a growl, and he smacks your ass, pushing you to stand between his legs. 

“Then I’m going to punish you for getting me hard at work.”

You moan as his hand moves to your front and feels over the lace material that covers your pussy. You shudder when his fingers slip between your thighs, battling with the string of your thong to rake over your clit and slit, groaning at how wet you already are. 

“Fuck, you really get this turned on just from teasing me?”

You whimper in response as he drags his finger over your bud before removing his hand. 

“We need to do something about that,” he says, sticking his fingers in his mouth to suck your arousal from them. Your legs shake involuntarily. “You can’t keep pissing me off so you can get your way.”

You breathe out a moan as he pops his wet fingers into view and licks over them slowly with his tongue flicking in the v-shape while looking right at you before dropping them to his lap. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you imagine him doing that right on your clit.

“I keep saying, you make it too easy.” 

He bares his teeth before gripping your sides and pulling you down to his lap, pushing your hips to roll on his groin.

“Or maybe you just need to have the brat fucked out of you,” he growls into your ear before biting the skin below it. Before you can do anything, he pushes at your waist and tells you to get on your knees on the ground, raking his hair back in frustration. 

You hesitate as you stare at his crotch, wanting to reach for it but remembering all the times he's tied you up for touching him without permission.

“Get to work,” he says, letting his wrists dangle casually from the arms of the chair, bracelets clacking.

You greedily sit up on your knees as your fingers dig around under his sweater for his belt. You quiver at the sound of his buckle coming loose and bite your lip when you see the bulge straining in his underwear after you undo his jeans. Just as you begin to reach into his boxers, someone knocks at his door.

You both react in panic.

“Hyung, can I come in? I need to show you something,” the sound of Hoseok’s voice echoes from the other side of the door.

“Shit!” he breathes, pushing your hands away from his belt and rolling in his chair over to where you left your clothes on the floor. However, you have no intention of moving.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He asks exasperatedly in a hushed tone when he finds you sliding back under his desk on your hands and knees.

“Yah, Yoongi hyung!”

Yoongi’s head whips between you and the door, blood pressure spiking. You put your hand out for the clothes he’s holding.

“It’s too late, I’ll just hide under here. He won’t see me.”

Yoongi’s jaw moves in annoyance, but he has no time to argue with you. So, he scoots his chair all the way under his desk to shield you with his widespread legs, throwing your clothes in your face. It works because you can barely see out beyond his lap, thanks to his wide and thick thighs, but this is no good news for Yoongi because another evil and salacious idea forms in your mind.

“It’s unlocked!” Yoongi calls and braces himself, praying that Hoseok cannot see under his desk.

As the door opens, Yoongi quickly busies himself at his computer, pretending that he doesn’t have his half-naked girlfriend underneath his desk and face level with his crotch. 

“Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to ask your advice on something.”

Yoongi’s brow ticks. Why is everyone asking for his advice today? 

“It’s fine, Hob-a, what’s up?” He asks, trying to play it cool. 

But as Hoseok stands next to him at his desk, he feels hands slide onto his lap and he grips the edge of the table, hoping that you're only just teasing him. But that hope doesn’t last very long.

Hoseok wants to know what he thinks about one of his tracks, that there’s something off about it but he can’t figure out what. Hoseok hands Yoongi his flash drive and he plugs it into his PC, and as he clicks around for the file your fingers inch towards his unopened jeans.

As Hoseok points at the screen about different parts of the track he’s concerned about, Yoongi grinds his teeth, urging himself to stay focused even when you begin to palm at his clothed dick. He thinks about kicking you, but all thoughts get cut off when you reach in through the hole in his boxers and pull his cock out. Fuck, he's needy for you, even in the most unorthodox way. He jerks when your hand wraps around his length, the other diving back in to squeeze his balls but he plays it off like he’s adjusting in his seat, masking his moan with a cough. He slides forward in the chair so you can have easier access.

Shit. How can something so wrong feel so motherfucking good?

“You okay?” Hoseok asks, giving him a wary side glance as Yoongi clicks around the screen.

The older, sweating man nods stiffly and clears his throat. 

“Yeah. It’s just been a long day. Do you wanna run it through?”

Hoseok leans over for the mouse and Yoongi takes the chance to let his expression crack while you run your tongue up the thick, pulsing vein on the underside of his dick, hand circling around his base.

Yoongi’s eyebrows pinch in fierce concentration on Hoseok’s track once he hits play but all of a sudden, your lips wrap around his tip, and you suck him into hollowed cheeks, devastatingly slow so as to not make noise even though the music would surely cover it. Stifling a groan, he straightens his back and presses his ribcage against his desk when you swirl your tongue around him. He’s going to fucking get you later. 

Hoseok hits the spacebar and pauses the music. As it stops, you halt your movements. “See, there. Something doesn’t sound right.” 

Yoongi’s brows furrow as he tries to center his attention even though your hand is massaging his balls.

“I think I missed it, sorry.” 

Hoseok sighs but moves the mouse to rewind back a few beats. He points at the tracker on the screen to tell Yoongi which part to pay most attention to and he nods.

As the music resumes your mouth returns to his length, and you slowly move down until his tip hits the back of your throat and he holds his breath at the pleasure, moan catching in his chest. He's so goddamn pissed that you’re doing this to him, but it feels so good at the same time. He tries his best to resist the urge to let the pleasure consume him, so he knocks off his snapback to pull his fingers through his hair and begs his brain to focus on the music. 

“Right here, hyung,” Hoseok murmurs next to him and Yoongi nods, listening closely even though your hot tongue licks from his base to the tip. 

Then he hears it, some strange offbeat in the background and he taps the spacebar, sighing through his nose when the silence makes you retreat.

They go over it for a while until Yoongi finally figures out what’s going on since the blood returns to his brain once you stopped touching him (although that doesn’t mean he isn’t still hard, and his dick isn’t twitching in your face and making you salivate and want to touch yourself). 

“Ah, okay, I see what you mean,” Hoseok says when Yoongi explains that there’s an extra beat embedded that’s easy to miss. “Thanks.” He claps him on the shoulder.

“Is that all you need?” Yoongi asks just to be polite but prays Hobi makes a quick exit. 

He nods as he saves the file before ejecting it and Yoongi pulls out the flash drive and hands it to him. 

“How long have you been here?” 

“Uh, a while, but I’m almost done.” Yoongi hopes Hoseok doesn’t see the way his eyes squeeze shut when you begin to move your thumb over his leaking tip.

“Good. You deserve a break! You’ve been working so hard.”

“Thanks, Hob-a. You too.” 

“How’s your girlfriend?”

Yoongi internally groans, now of all times Hoseok wants to make small talk. 

“She’s fine,” he says in a tight voice, only because you have lightly dragged your fingers up his length.

“Uh-oh. Troubles in paradise?” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen in confusion and your hand stills. “No? What makes you say that?”

“Oh, just saying, because usually when anyone asks you about her, you gush for like twenty minutes.”

Yoongi’s face and neck flushes a dark red and you have to press a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. 

“Do not,” he grumbles, although in denial. 

Hoseok snorts. “Fat lie, hyung. You always jump at the chance to talk about her, you don’t realize that? It’s cute! Well, in a sickening kind of way, but still.” 

Yoongi glares at him as he feels your head fall onto his knee, trying to keep yourself from laughing.

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

“Why? Are you embarrassed?” Hoseok teases in a baby voice, bending down to pinch at Yoongi’s cheeks. “Cute Yoonie loves his girlfriend so much that he wants to talk about her all the time.”

“Fuck off, Hoseok,” Yoongi mumbles, swatting at Hoseok’s fingers and pushing him away as he turns back to his computer, and thankfully you’ve cut him a fucking break under his desk.

Hoseok snickers and grabs his laptop. “You better go home and see her, go on a date. But if you’re too busy, I’d be more than happy to take her out for you!”

“Yah, Jung Hoseok!” Yoongi bubbles with fury and Hoseok just cackles and scurries to the exit. 

“Bye!” Hoseok grins mischievously, wiggling his fingers in the air before closing the door behind him. 

A few seconds after the lock clicks shut, you burst out into laughter, and Yoongi flushes a hot, steaming red all the way up to his ears. 

Yoongi pushes away from the desk and ducks his head down to look at you as you begin to crawl out on all fours. He scowls when you giggle once you make eye contact with him.

“I don’t see what’s funny. You’re in big trouble, you know,” he says, stuffing himself back in his underwear.

You stifle a laugh as you stand up. “You mad?”

“Clearly!”

You cock your eyebrow when he darts a hand out in frustration. “At what, the fact that I sucked your dick under your desk or that I found out how much you love to talk about me?”

Yoongi narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. “Both.” 

You smirk. “Aww, come on, Yoonie~” you tease, mimicking Hoseok as you go to sit on your boyfriend’s lap. 

“Go away,” He tries to fight you off but you trap him by grinding down on his hips and shoving your tits in his face. 

You hum as you press an open-mouth kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You sure?” 

Your hand slides down to his clothed dick, still solid under your palm. “Don't you want me to take care of your ‘problem’?” 

He swallows moan as you grope him. But he feels embarrassed and upset that you went down on him when Hoseok was there. Deep down he thinks it was hot, but he knows Hoseok has always had a crush on you and he doesn’t like the idea of him seeing you like that, especially with the kinds of comments he sometimes makes implying that he can treat you better.

“Yeah, when I get home,” he sighs and you deflate. “I’m almost done.”

“Seriously, are you mad?” 

“No, babe. I just want to finish up now so that I can be done for the weekend. That’s what you want, right?”

You grimace, wondering what he means by that. “Fine,” you acquiesce, hopping off of his lap so he can roll back up to his desk. 

You slide on your clothes and gather your things, biting your tongue to keep from saying anything smart, but you can’t help feeling that his words don't sit right in your chest. As you walk to the door and slip on your shoes, you glance over to see him hunched over his desk, not even bothering to look back as you leave.

“You know, maybe I’ll go find Hoseok and take him up on his offer. Since it seems he has the time for me,” you sneer after you open the door, stepping out and slamming it shut behind you. 

Yoongi jerks his head and swivels around but you've already disappeared. Oooh, that pisses him off. He knows you only said it to do just that but that sits right along his insecurities and he wants to lose it. But he really is almost done with work so if he hunkers down now, he can finish and go home and tell you off.

90 minutes later he receives a notification, a text from you with an attached image. You’re lying in bed on your stomach in your corset bra, holding up your head as you pout into the camera with your cleavage on full display. 

my brat: Hoseok was busy :/

Yoongi drops his phone on the table, and it clatters, free hands rubbing frustration down his face. He knows what you’re doing, and he should have the willpower to ignore it but- FUCK are you good at getting what you want. You like pissing him off so that he'll be rough with you. And although he enjoys the dynamic, finds it fun, this is just one of those times that he really doesn’t like how you piss him off. He hates the idea of you alluding to the fact that you asked another man to fuck you. He knows you indeed haven’t, that you’re just messing with him, but he’s getting in his head with his self-doubt. He angrily decides that the track is good enough for now, that he can meet with Namjoon tomorrow or something to tweak it. He has to get home to make sure no one else has touched you but him.

You are in Big. Fucking. Trouble.

When Yoongi walks through the door, you’re in the kitchen getting something to drink, wearing one of his flannel shirts over your lingerie. When he appears you smile and greet him, but falter when he ignores you and quickly shuffles by to the bedroom. You watch him pass you and your smile slips at the stone look on his face. You know you pissed him off but did you make him upset? You never want to hurt his feelings, you just want to get his attention. You set your drink on the counter and pad after him. 

When you walk into the room and lean against the door frame, his back is to you as he strips off his sweater to reveal his dark gray t-shirt and silver chain.

“Did you finish?” you ask, twiddling your fingers over one of the buttons of his flannel. 

“No,” he says, keeping his back to you. You frown.

“Oh. How come?” 

“Because my bratty girlfriend can’t be fucking patient," he grits, swiping off his snapback.

You cross your arms, not appreciating his tone. “I left, didn't I?”

His shoulders shake in a sardonic laugh, fingers combing through his hat-hair. “Yeah, only after telling me you were going to look for Hoseok.”

“Yeah well, maybe if you paid more attention to me, I wouldn’t feel the need to do that,” you sneer before pushing off of the door frame to speed-walk into the living room. 

You only make it halfway down the hall before a hand grabs your wrist. You’re met with Yoongi’s looming figure exuding anger as he glares down at you and you match his energy immediately.

“And you think the way to get my attention is by making me jealous?”

“Well, it seems to be the only thing that’s working! Isn’t that why you came home before you got done with work? Because you think I asked Hoseok to fuck me? Not because you-“ 

“Did you?” he interrupts and your jaw moves in irritation.

“What do you think?” you bark. He blinks down at the floor. There it is again- that insecurity. He backs you into the wall as he tries to control his anxiety.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly and that pisses you off. He really thinks you would stoop that low?

“Really? What, you think I wanted to suck you off while he was there hoping he’d catch us? Ask to join? Have me suck his dick too?” 

Rage floods through him at the thought and his hold around your wrist tightens. 

“Would you?” 

Your mouth drops open. “Wow. Screw you." You pry his hand off and angrily walk back into the bedroom, wanting to put on more clothes now that you’re upset. As he follows, you make a petty point by taking off his flannel and exchanging it for your own clothes, pulling on your own t-shirt and sweats. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says when he stands in the doorway.

"No? You don’t think that I’d jump at the chance to suck another man’s dick if the opportunity presented itself?” 

“No, of course not,” he shakes his head, feeling guilty when you say nothing else so he continues, wanting you to understand where he's coming from.

“I just… You know he likes you.” 

You spin around, flabbergasted. “Fucking so?”

He closes his eyes, feeling embarrassed that he’s about to bring this up. He has no reason to be worried that you like Hoseok but… he still struggles deep down that he doesn’t deserve you and that you’d be better off with someone else. Maybe someone like Hoseok. 

“Why don’t you go ask him whether or not I took him up on his offer?” you snap. Then you stride across the floor and stand toe to toe with him. 

“Or how bout you find out for yourself,” you provoke. 

He looks down at you with your chin tilted up at his and a heartbeat passes before his hands fly to your face and he presses his lips to yours. You respond immediately by scraping your fingers over his ribs, hooking over his spine as he licks into your mouth, teeth clashing together desperately. 

He begins to walk you backward towards the bed and when you hit the edge of the mattress, he tears your shirt off and lifts you by the waist to settle you down and kiss you hungrily as he climbs on top of you, chain laying on your throat. His hands move down to your sweats and he stands straight to rip them down your legs and onto the floor, looking down at your body decorated with pretty lingerie and he intrusively thinks about Hoseok seeing you like this and jealousy fires through him again. 

He falls to his knees and loops his fingers under the straps of your thong to roughly pull them off, licking his lips at the sight of your bare pussy, glistening with the return of your arousal. He adds to it with his spit and promptly attaches his lips to your clit, growling when you cry out and arch your back in response. He wraps his arms underneath your thighs to hold you in place as he slathers your pussy with his spit and teeth and tongue. 

His eyes close as you let out whimpers and whines of his name while your hands grip his hair, every sound making his dick twitch in his jeans. He sucks and slurps all over your cunt, making it messy between your thighs and on his chin, anything to make you keep wailing his name. He flicks his tongue over your clit and between your folds just like he demonstrated on his fingers back in the studio, and he has to flex his biceps around your thighs when you thrash. He can tell you’re close by the way your legs quiver beside his head and he slides your clit between his teeth before pressing his lips around it and sucking in a fast, relentless rhythm. 

“Yoongi, gonna come!” you cry and a dark chuckle rumbles through his chest at the thought that no one else can get you to your peak as quickly as he can. He mercilessly continues sucking your clit until your legs violently shake and press against his head and you come with shrieks of his name. His tongue dives to your hole as it pulses and he licks your essence into his mouth and groans while he swallows, grinning victoriously as you continue to shake through throes of pleasure. 

He slows his movements as you spiral down, loving the way you twitch at every touch of his mouth. He presses a final kiss to your clit before he moves his arms from under your thighs so he can hover over you while you catch your breath. He places his knee between your legs and leans down to kiss you so you can taste yourself, chain swinging over your heaving breasts. You moan as you dart your tongue against his and loop your arms around his neck to pull him down. Then he slides his lips down your jaw into the crook of your shoulder and speaks gruffly into your ear.

“You think he could make you come like that?”

You immediately shake your head, heat filling your gut at his dark tone. He bites your neck then rolls his tongue over the spot to soothe the sting. 

“You need to say that out loud.”

You draw in a sharp breath. “No! No he couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t what?” he snaps.

“He couldn’t make me come. Not like you do.” 

Pride shoots down his spine and he sits up to straddle your hips, turning you over onto your stomach so he can grab handfuls of your ass. 

“You think he could fuck you like I do? Huh?” he experimentally rolls his clothed bulge over the swell of your ass.

“No,” you whimper with a desperate shake of your head.

“No?” he challenges. “You don’t think so?” He drags his hips against you slowly, hissing at the friction. 

You continue to agree and he hums, still taking his time to drag this out. He just wants to hear it as much as possible but your smart mouth fucks you over.

“If you’re not convinced then we can go find out,” you say, voice muffled by the sheets but he hears you and snarls. 

He leans down to grip a handful of your hair to turn your ear to his mouth.

“Why don’t you do that and I’ll go re-acquaint myself with Mina.”

A vicious green monster tears through your chest and you turn over to face him as your head fills with intrusive thoughts of the hands and body of his ex you once envied all over him while he enjoys it. 

He chuckles mockingly at your expression. “Don’t like that, huh?” 

You say nothing but look at him angrily as you picture him with her, hating it with a passion. 

“Do you, baby?” he coos sarcastically, trailing the backs of his fingers down your cheek. “Don’t like the idea of my hands and my mouth being on someone else?” 

He leans down to emphasize his point by kneading and kissing at your skin that he can reach and your chest heaves in response. 

He rolls his hips. “Or my dick fucking someone else’s pussy?”

You see red and your hands fly up to grab his chain and tug his face parallel with yours so he grunts, a dark grin spreading on his face. 

“No, I don’t fucking like it,” you seethe.

“Now you know how I feel,” he says mockingly. You scowl, fucking annoyed, and let go of his jewelry.

“You brought this on yourself. I never talked to Hoseok. He was the one who said he would take me out if you didn’t.” 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have heard that if you hadn't been hiding under my desk sucking me off.” 

“Oh, right and you were trying real hard to get me to stop,” you snap, pushing at his chest.

His jaw ticks, realizing you have a point. He leans up and sits back on his heels.

“Or just admit that you didn’t want me to,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbows. His eyes flicker to you darkly.

“That you liked it,” you taunt, moving to sit up on your knees so that you're level with him.

“That maybe if he did catch us he’d be jealous of your long, fat dick.” He shivers as your words send shocks to his core and his ego.

“And how good my throat is for fucking.” 

His gulps at the imagery as your fingers trace under his shirt.

“And how he’d never get to find out for himself,” you say earnestly, looking directly into his eyes. 

Then your hand slowly travels down to his groin.

“But if you want to go find Mina and see if she makes you feel as good as I do,” you mock as you grab his bulge and squeeze under his balls, making him hiss and involuntarily buck against you.

“Then be my fucking guest.” Your teeth grind as you let go of him to move off of the bed but you’re quickly stopped with a hand squeezing your elbow.

“Lay down,” he demands, warm breath fanning over your cheek. 

“Make me." He huffs before moving his hand to your throat and pressing lightly on either side, making your resolve slip. 

“Keep it up, brat.” The very brat in you comes back for an encore as you grab his wrist. 

“Or what? Gonna go call up Mina? You think she’d even want you anymore?” 

His eyes flash menacingly at the venom in your voice and you squeak when he bends down to pick you up, arms supporting your back and under your ass to carry you over to your shared desk.

“It doesn’t matter whether she would or not. Because I don’t want her,” he says simply as he sets you down, knocking the notebooks and tchotchkes out of the way, paying no mind as they clatter onto the floor.

“No? Then who do you want?” You know it’s a stupid question but you’re fucking triggered and you want to hear him say it. He tilts his head as he undoes the buckle on his belt.

“I’m looking right at her, sweetheart.” You falter, but you’re not about to let up that easy.

"Just - Fuck you for bringing her up." Gently pushing your legs apart, he gives you a remorseful smile.

“I’m sorry. I only wanted to get back at you but I took it too far.”

“Get back at me for what?” you ask, glossing over his apology and you’re almost able to ignore his fingers massaging the inside of your thighs. 

He cocks his brow. “For that selfie you sent and your text implying that you asked Hoseok to fuck you but he was too busy?” 

“You started it,” you scoff and cross your arms, chest heaving as his hands move slowly to the part of you that’s aching for him.

“Did I? You were the one who came into my studio and shoved your tits and ass in my face wearing this pretty lingerie all because I haven’t been paying you enough attention.” 

“Try ‘any’ attention.” He hums and looks down to watch his thumb brush over your clit, smirking when you gasp and grab his forearm.

“Baby, it’s only been a few days. Are you that needy for me?” 

You huff but don't try to deny it, eyes rolling to the ceiling when he slides two fingers between your wet folds, lifting up your knee to hold it on his hips so he has a better view and access.

“Thought so.” You shut your eyes so his smug face won’t piss you off.

“Well, remember I tried to leave but you told me to ‘get my ass back here right now,’” you recount, leaning back with a hand on the desk.

You bite your tongue when his fingers sink inside to slowly work you open.

“Yeah, well you’re sexy as hell in this lingerie and I’m a weak bastard for you, so sue me,” he grumbles, staring at your pussy as his hand picks up the pace.

“I’m only sexy in lingerie?” 

He sighs. “Sweetheart, did you miss the part where I said I’m a weak fucking man for you?”

You hum nonchalantly, his words filling your heart up with butterflies but the brat in you is refusing to leave the stage so you ignore him.

He shakes his head and grips your thigh to get you to look at him, making sure you’re paying attention.

“Just shut that smart mouth of yours, baby girl. And let me show you I mean what I say.” 

He lifts one of your arms to hook around his shoulder and you reluctantly acquiesce, letting him situate you in a way that’s comfortable before he pushes down his jeans to free his dick from its confines. Jerking his shaft, he tilts down in concentration to inspect your puffy cunt.

When he thinks it could use more lube, he holds his hand next to your mouth. 

“Spit.” Letting go of your stubbornness, you obey, only because you enjoy the way he doesn’t mind your saliva dropping in his palm.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. You watch impatiently as he tilts his head back while spreading your spit over his tip, making you clench around nothing when his knuckles brush your folds. You whine his name again when you feel his head rub up and down your wet slit before he taps it a few times.

“Beg.”

Your hand slaps his back, matching your huff in frustration and his lip curls. 

“Minus the fucking attitude.”

“It’s been three days.”

“What?” he snaps.

You lift your head with a glare. “I said it’s been three fucking days, why should I beg?” 

He slides his hard, lubed up length in between your folds to show you what you’re stalling. 

“Shouldn’t that be all the more reason to?” he growls as he smacks the side of your ass. 

“I'm not the one who didn't come home. So shouldn’t it be you doing the begging?” 

He stills.

“Maybe,” he says softly, massaging your skin that he knows is stinging from his hand. Your chest squeezes at the sad tone in his voice even though you’re pissed off.

“But you remember what I said about punishing you for getting me hard at work?” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, lips pursing as you nod.

“This is part of it. You’d better fucking beg.” 

He sighs and shakes his head, digging his fingers into your waist when you take a second too long to respond.

“I’m not going to tell you again.” He steps back, threatening to walk away. In a panic, you hook your heels behind him to keep him from going any further.

“Fuck, fine! Yoongi, please. Please fuck me!”

With a dark chuckle, he closes the distance between you again, arm circling around your waist, licking and marking under your jaw. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he holds up your thigh, you moan when he teases your entrance with his throbbing tip.

“I’ll always give you what you want when you’re a good girl for me.”

And just like that, the brat in you is gone. At least for now. He groans when you kiss him with ferocity and allows you to take the reins a bit. You moan and fist his hair in both hands, whining when his hand trails to your core to make sure you’re still ready, and he’s confirmed when he easily slips in three of his fingers, making you gasp into his mouth.

“You want it?” he growls against your swollen lips as he removes his hand covered with your essence to use it as lube on his dick. You nod frantically. 

“Words.”

“Yes!” you wheeze.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes!” You exclaim louder.

“Then turn around.”

He helps you settle on your feet and twirls you around with both hands on your hips, biting behind your ear while he lines himself up behind you.

“You know I love you, right?” You nod, leaning into his teeth and wiggling your hips to entice him but his firm hand on your ass keeps you in place. “But right now I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” 

A spark floods through you at the way he curls a hand around your throat and simultaneously rubs his head up to your aching clit. You’re screwed, but you are so, so ready. 

“Please!”

Without giving you a second to breathe, he spears into you, forcing you forward with your hands flattened on the desk. You yelp out when he begins ramming into you at an angle so deep your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He slaps your ass, harshly enough to sting, and grunts when you clench around him, continuing to make the room swell with lewd sounds of your wet pussy squelching with every smack of his hips. It feels feral, the force of his thrusts causing the desk to thump against the wall, but the rhythmic sound is drowned out by your mindless moans.

He fucks you like he hates you, like he doesn’t care how the wooden edge is digging into your waist, or the way he’s slapping your ass until your skin is raw, slamming his hips against yours so it’s certain you’re going to have trouble walking. If you didn’t like it so much, you’d be telling yourself not to piss him off ever again.

A hand on your spine pushes you down onto the desk, breasts and face squishing on the lacquered wood, and you moan when he pulls your cheeks a part and you can just picture the way he’s watching himself pound you, tongue poked out in fascination, head moving from side to side to see all the different angles.

“Nah.” He mutters to himself and you glance over your shoulder to see him shaking his head as your body moves up and down. “No one else can fuck you like this. Right?” He grits, fingers digging into your ass as he takes a long stroke of emphasis.

“Mhmm!”

He hums to himself in satisfaction, letting out an amused chuckle before he starts fucking you so hard and so fast and so goddamn good that you don’t realize you’re coming until it hits you, and your finger nails dig into the desk for dear life, leaving scratch marks. As you clench around him he lets out a string of curses that would make even a sailor blush, rubbing his hands up and down your back, fingertips kneading your ass as you shake and come apart.

You’re still trembling when he finally slows his thrusts to a moderate pace and his hands on your skin are moving more gently now that you’re coming down.

“Baby, talk to me. You good?” It takes you a second to register that he’s been talking to you for a few seconds. He just fucked you into euphoria, you’re drooling on the desk because of it, so you need a goddamn minute.

You whine in dissatisfaction when he pulls out of you, only for him to reach over to brush sweaty hair out of your face, and you blink open tear-filled eyes to him peering down at you with concern knitted into his brows.

“You good?” he repeats, continuing to brush your hair back and smoothe his hand down your spine.

You nod. “Mhmm. ‘M a good girl.” His eyebrows lift in relief when you say something that’s somewhat coherent.

“That you are.” You swoon. That’s all you ever want to hear him say, even though more often than not your behavior speaks otherwise. At least he’s shown you that he loves to deal with it.

“I’m gonna bring you over to the bed. Can you make it?” Pushing your hands against the desk, you try to put some weight on your feet and know without even trying that you won’t. It feels like he was on the brink of splitting you in half.

“Only if you carry me.” You can feel his smile on the side of your face as he rubs your shoulders before gently pulling back on them, holding you against his chest once you straighten. He presses light but necessary kisses to your neck and cheek before turning you to the side so he can swoop you up in his arms like you’re his bride. You hope one day you will be.

You could almost cry at the tender way he puts you down on the mattress, his face dewy and red from exertion, and adjusts the pillows beneath you, fluffing them how you like it. How he can so easily slip from being your insane freak in the sheets who hates you to your sweet, doting boyfriend is beyond you but it’s one of the many things you love so much about him. “Too much?” Your heart swells again at his loving tone as he coasts his hand down your torso, inspecting the indentations left on your waist from the desk to make sure they’re ones that won’t bruise.

You shake your head. “I can still remember my own name.”

“Dang, so I could do better,” he smirks.

Blowing a raspberry, you playfully smack the side of his head and he only chuckles and leans down to kiss you. Just as he brushes your lips, you push at his clothed shoulder, suddenly very much bothered by the fact that he is not completely naked yet.

“Shirt,” you mumble, tugging at his collar. “What about it?” “Off.”

He cocks a brow, mouth pulling up into a smirk. “Are you telling me what to do?”

“Yes. Problem?”

He hisses an amused sound, sits up on his knees and blinks down at you, lightly batting your hands away when you reach for the hem of his now unapproved fabric.

“We just went through all that, but you still want to have a fucking attitude?”

You withdraw your hands, rest them on your tummy as you look up at him sheepishly. He looks at you patiently, waiting for a response, but you don’t have one, so you instead raise your hands to the side in a shrug because what can you say? The smirk on his face grows until it turns into a laugh, and he kicks his head back. Fuck, you love his laugh. His shoulders start to shake, gummy grin on full display as he looks down at you through his stringy bangs, and you fall just that much more in love.

“It’s like that, huh?” He muses, coasting his hands up and down your thighs.

“It’s fun to piss you off,” you justify, holding your arms up in invitation and he pauses for a split second before lowering into your embrace.

“Yeah, and I know you have a blast doing it, much to my expense,” he mutters, letting you pepper his jaw with kisses. You giggle as you get over to his mouth and he opens up to swallow down your sounds.

As you makeout, his hips start to rock over yours under the covers, heavy cock desperate to fill you again so you trail your hands down to his ass, digging your go ahead into his skin. Keeping a hand next to your head and his tongue over yours, he reaches down to guide himself back in, humming when you moan in satisfaction. He lifts his head with a curse when you suck him in with ease, baring your neck to him that he nips before straightening his arm to plank above you. He stares down at you with lust-blown eyes as he takes your leg from under the sheets to rest on his shoulder. You bite your lip and grapple for his neck as he fucks into you slowly, hips rolling with deft, meaningful strokes. For a few moments he fucks you like that, reveling in your moans and whimpers, especially when he ducks his head to suck your tits into his mouth.

“Missed you, Yoon,” you whisper suddenly, blissed out and slack-jawed. He pauses his thrusts to put your leg back in place before dropping down to grab your hands and curl them under his, tongue licking roughly over the top of your mouth. Your chest heaves, breathing him in while he sucks on your lips and tongue. 

“Missed you too, doll." His hips resume to a slow rhythm, and you let out a soft cry at the sensation of him filling you up to the brim despite never leaving.

You struggle to kiss him back as you get lost in the clouds again now that he’s rocking into you at a slower pace, pressing deeply into you so you can feel every inch of each other with every stroke.

“So fucking good for me,” he grumbles into your mouth, building rhythm as he brings himself to peak.

“Wanna be,” you slur. 

“Hm?” His tongue pokes out as he focuses on rolling his hips against a tight, cushioned spot that kisses his tip and draws his orgasm closer.

“Wanna be so good for you. Always.” He grins, pride swelling his chest at your promise.

“Not for Hoseok?” Because he has to make sure.

“No,” you whimper, yanking at his chain to bring him down in a messy kiss. “Just you.”

He kisses you with a relieved smile, bites at your neck a few times, and slaps your hip.

“Then get up and ride me. I shouldn’t be doing all this fucking work,” he commands and slips out before pulling you up by the elbows. He crawls around you to sit against the headboard while you turn to face him and prop yourself up on shaking knees.

Noticing this, he pauses and holds you still. “Can you?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, confirming it with a sloppy kiss.

Grinning, he pulls you forward until you hover over his lap and fists his dick to hold himself in place while his other hand pushes you down by your hip. You grip his shoulders and whine as you sink onto him, waiting until you’re fully breached to start circling your hips. As you lean in to lick between his teeth, you rake your fingers down his chest, lightly scratching over his nipples and smiling when he moans. 

“Shit,” he curses against you as you press your thumbs against his buds and he gets you back by attacking your neck with bites and bruises that you’ll have for days. You begin rolling in his lap and hold onto his shoulders for leverage, gasping when he wraps his arm across your waist to pull you closer so your breasts are right in his face and he attaches his mouth to one, leaning back on his hand to hold himself up.

He releases your tit with a pop and tilts his head to watch in content as your knees move to prop yourself up so you can bounce on his dick, appreciating his hand on your ass supporting and guiding you.

“Fuck, doll. Yeah, just like that,” He moans and breaks from your lips to throw his head back as his balls tighten, and you take your turn to make marks on his neck.

“Nngh, gonna come,” he groans deep in his gut, Adam’s apple bobbing and eyes squeezing shut as you continue to rock against him and it throws him over the edge. He pushes at your hips to force you off of him until you fall back once more on the mattress as he pulls out with a gasp. He growls and grunts as thick ropes of hot cum shoot out over your stomach and tits and you moan at the feeling and the sounds he makes. 

“Goddamn,” he wheezes, jerking his dick through the final pulses of his orgasm and he grips your thigh to keep himself grounded. When his dick stops twitching, he falls back over to kiss you roughly.

“Close,” you tell him against his lips and he curses.

“Fuck, okay.” Anticipating being overstimulated but wanting nothing more than to satisfy you, he sits on his heels, pulls your hips onto his thighs and waits for your nod for him to plunge back in.

He wastes no time rutting into the very spot that he knows will guarantee you to come fast and hard. He has to bite his bottom lip to keep from whining at the overstimulation. But it proves fruitless when you pulse your orgasm around his dick, squeezing him so tight, that he starts to come again, encouraged by your endless moans of his name. He manages to keep his release at bay until he feels your wave wash back and yanks himself out at the last second so that he doesn’t give into temptation and come inside you. That level is on the horizon, but neither of you are quite ready for that. He knows just how addictive that will be and it’s too much of a risk.

So he opts to come on your stomach and chest for a second time, not bothering to jerk himself through it and just lets his cock bob on your center as he returns to his place above you. You open your mouth to welcome him before he even lands his fists beside your head.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he breathes over you, ducking his head into your neck so he can hear you whisper the same.

Dick softening on your lower stomach, he kisses you until his biceps strain under his weight.

“You feeling okay?” He asks, sitting back on his heels and smiling warmly (proudly) at your fucked out expression.

He presses his hands on your hips, heart racing when you won’t stop staring at him and he has to look away to prevent a rise in blood pressure, instead staring at all of his cum spread over you.

He looks back up when he catches your hand reaching for him and he grabs it, wrapping his fingers around your knuckles and bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm, eyes never leaving yours.

“What?” He asks as you pout. He kisses the inside of your wrist and you sigh, let his lips linger there and your heart stops for a moment at his tenderness.

With a smile and one more kiss on the back of your hand, he gets up and grabs a pair of sweatpants on the way to the bathroom, running a washcloth under warm water and wringing it out lightly before bringing it back to you to clean up his mess.

A moment later, he watches you with wide eyes as you slide out of bed and head to the bathroom without a word, albeit with a noticeable wobble. He sighs when the door shuts, getting the feeling that fucking the shit out of each other just now did nothing to solve your problems. While he waits for you to come back out, he strips the bed of soiled sheets to take out to the washer in the hallway closet. Just as he starts the cycle, you emerge from the bathroom, arms crossed over your breasts as you scurry into the bedroom to dress into his hoodie and a pair of his hoochie daddy shorts. You keep your head down while you walk past him for the kitchen, but he catches you with an arm pressed into your abdomen.

“Hey,” he murmurs above your head. “Whatever you’re thinking, you can tell me.”

You nod against his bicep, slipping your hand down to his fingers and tangling them together to lead him into the kitchen. He doesn’t take his hands off of you while you maneuver around to retrieve glasses of water for you both, but you end up just sharing yours. Neither of you say anything for a moment after you refresh yourselves. Then, his knuckles under your chin bring your face level with his, away from staring into the void behind his shoulder.

“The sex was good in there, but it didn’t resolve anything,” he reminds you softly. “We should talk it out before you get too far into your head.”

Fuck. He knows you so well. With a sigh and a blurry waterline, you lean against him, head resting on his shoulder so he doesn’t see.

“I just really missed you,” you start in a small voice. On your temple, he frowns. “And I know it’s kind of pathetic because we live together and you were only gone for three days but I just wish you would make up your mind about coming home or not. It’s just frustrating when you say you’ll be done in a couple hours but it turns out to be five. Or I wait up for you just for you to tell me you’re staying overnight. I know how important your work is, especially when you have a deadline, and I never want to take you away from it, but sometimes it feels like when I tell you to take a break, you act as if I’m asking you to stop altogether. I’m just trying to make sure you eat and rest properly so you don’t burn yourself out and get sick.” Your voice chokes the more you admit, and he lets your words hang in the air before rubbing his hand across the back of your shoulders. Resting his head on yours, he takes a deep breath.

“I love how supportive you are of my job and how much you worry about me, but I’m sorry I make you feel neglected. That’s never my intention.” You hum in acknowledgement and he squeezes the back of your neck.

“I mean, I’m not trying to dig myself out of the hole here, but a lot of the time when I come to a dead end with a project and feel like giving up, I think about you and how the faster I get done, the faster I can come home and devote all of my time to you.” You can’t hold back a sniffle. He frowns and gently pulls you by your shoulder and waist to press your fronts together. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, along with your tears.

“I’m so sorry I made you upset, baby,” he whispers, his own voice choked up. “I just get stuck sometimes and it’s hard for me to give it a rest. Thank you for loving me so well that you knew when I needed you to come drag me out. And three days is way too long to not he home. I’m sorry I made you feel like it wasn’t.” You swallow a sob and hold him tighter.

“Well, I’m sorry I made you think I wanted Hoseok to fuck me.”

His nostrils flare with a small laugh. “I know you were just trying to piss me off. But I don’t know if I want us to make each other jealous by doing that anymore, y’know?”

You nod in quick understanding and he purrs gratefully, lifts a hand to gently tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Because I guess sometimes I just worry that you could do better.”

Your limbs freeze as his words sink in and spreads your blood thin. Placing your hands on his hips, you lean away to look right at him, eyebrows furrowing at his pained smile.

“That has to be the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever said.” Chewing the inside of his cheek, he suppresses a laugh.

“I’m serious.” You reach up to cup his jaw. “Don’t tell yourself that. I love you. You’re it for me, Yoongi.”

Starlight fills his eyes as he gazes down into your soul. He hugs you tightly, and whispers those same three words back, all of the weight he’s ever carried lifting off of his shoulders now that you’ve solidified that you’re his forever.

“I’m gonna do better to not spend so much time at the studio,” he promises, fingertips massaging the back of your head.

“Maybe just limit your overnighters to once a week.” He smiles, leans in to kiss you, hearts feeling warm and full. “I can work with that. And next time you want to blow me at work, try not to do it when one of my colleagues is in there.”

“Fine,” you sigh in exaggeration. “But at least admit that you liked it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

You roll your eyes. “It was a one time thing, so the least you can do is-”

He cuts you off with a kiss that wipes your brain clear of any thoughts.

“You were saying?” he mumbles against your lips with a knowing smirk.

“Fuck if I know,” you breathe and he chuckles.

Leaning back in, he kisses you slowly, thoughtfully for a few moments, then breaks away with eyes hazed with love and boops your nose.

“Why don’t we go shower and get dressed so I can take you out on a date, hm? We’ll go wherever you’d like.”

A bright and wide smile on your face, you tangle both of your hands together and lean up to kiss him. He melts into you and your heart glows as radiant as the rising sun. You break, and your cheeks burn when you notice how his have turned a noticeable shade of pink.

“Let’s both decide on a place. But maybe tomorrow or the day after when I can walk a little better.” He grins and kisses your forehead, softly pats your ass.

“Sounds good to me.”

.

.

.

Thanks for reading! i've had this sitting in my drafts for a while and finally got the courage to post it so I hope you enjoyed! lmk what you think if you want! Also im the queen of run-on sentences so i apologize for that! And some of it might seem kind of rushed, but i was really trying to keep it under 10k.

xxx - claret

p.s. check out my yoongi mafia series not in the cards if you haven't already! thanks again!!

[citrustan]

hi, drabble request! hope this reaches you too 💌

yoongi & reader domestic fluff spice 🫣

hii thanks for this! i'm kinda rusty so i'm assuming domestic is when they're in a relationship and share a home (?)

this is not an original scenario, i simply can't remember where i first saw/read this or something similar. i know 'himym' introduced the 'olive theory' so let's just say this is based on that!

mushroom theory (myg)

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, boyfriend!yoongi x girlfriend!reader, smut but not all the way. + i picture yoongi to be older than the reader.

warnings: some tit stuff bec if you haven't already realised by now, i love boob, yoongi gropes reader, some grinding and finger stuff, spit, one mention of pee (nothing happens.) boyfriend loves being called oppa. < i might've overdone that 🤐

You barge into your home, pushing Yoongi out of the way, "I can't believe I didn't know you liked mushrooms. Why did you let me eat them every time?"

Yoongi follows you in and shrugs, "I thought you liked them."

Flabbergasted, you almost screech, "I hate mushrooms! They're.... fungus and gross and I can't believe you made me eat them all these months."

How is he so nonchalant about it?

You step out of your heels and balance yourself on each foot, one at a time, as you pull your socks off of them.

Yoongi wants to laugh but he knows this is serious for you, "I don't know what to say, babe, you never asked."

"Because I thought," you emphasise on your subjects, "I was doing you a favour."

"By eating every mushroom you see?" Yoongi finally grins.

Abruptly turning, you chuck a sock at him (which he dodges swiftly) and frown, "You're laughing. I stuff myself, FOR YOU, with the only food I hate and you're laughing."

Slowly making his way over to you, Yoongi sighs, "It's not that serious, _____. You never have to eat one again, ever."

Unwilling to let it go, you interrogate him, "Riddle me this; why did you push all those mushrooms to the side on our first date? You picked every single one out."

He walks past you to the couch, where your other sock lay. "I was saving them for the end."

"But you let me eat them," your brows scrunch in confusion, "Why didn't you stop me?"

He beacons you over with a 'come closer' motion of his finger.

Yoongi pulls the oversized sweater over your head. "Well, you put them all in your mouth before I could stop you. Sorry. I thought you'd hurt me if I said anything."

You swat him with your sleeve, "I just didn't want to condone food wastage."

The rant is endless. "I mean, I've never seen you serve yourself mushrooms either! Your friends are evil too. They waited all this time to tell me you loved mushrooms. You people just watched on as I suffered."

"_____, we're going in circles." With his finger, Yoongi directed you to turn around and you happily comply.

You exasperate, "Sorry! I just can't believe I could've gone all those months without secretly gagging during every meal."

Yoongi presses himself against your back enveloping you in a hug, and suggests, "Why don't we make a list of the foods we like and dislike?"

Leaning back into him, you slur, "Maybe..."

More like sulk.

Yoongi drags his large hands up and down your arms and across your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps in pursuit.

When he feels you lax, Yoongi sneakily inches under your white cotton camisole, prodding at and caressing your underboob, enjoying the softness of your skin.

You lock your arms down so he wouldn't pull away easily.

His fingers work their way towards your perked nipples. You help him out a little and pull the flimsy neckline of your top lower to free your breasts.

He wets the pads of his fingers with his tongue and skillfully circles them all over your areola, avoiding your nipples.

You fidget a little as Yoongi teases you, holding off on *actual* foreplay.

"Stop moving, _____." Yoongi scolds.

You squirm more, grinding back against his crotch, letting out small moans of frustration and pleasure.

Indirectly, you motivate him to continue messing with you. He gets off on your bratty yet submissive demeanour.

"Oppa, please..." you whine, "I'm gonna cry..."

Yoongi nearly laughs at how eager you were.

Not wanting to torture you any longer, he spins you around to face him and dives in, tonguing your nipples. At first, he uses his hands to squeeze your tits together, giving him access to both nipples at once. He wets both your nipples, lickng and sucking on them.

"Oppa! More! Please!" You squeal a few incoherent words along the lines of 'harder' 'yes' and 'more'.

You grab onto his almost shoulder-length hair and push your chest harder against his mouth.

One of his giant hands is now wrapped around your lower back to support your wobbly-self, and the other is busied with rubbing, pressing on and gently pinching your free nipple while the other is caught in his mouth.

The cool air attacks your nipples, hardening them even more, each time he pulls them out of his warm, and wet mouth. It's never-ending.

Yoongi kisses, licks and sucks on your nipples as his hands travel down to grope your ass. You desperately grind your aching pussy on him.

You're seeing stars at this point.

Catching on to it, Yoongi spins you around yet again, making your back face him.

It's an everyday thing for the two of you. Your boyfriend was obsessed with your breasts.

Almost every night, after Yoongi's back home from a tiring day at work, he demands to make out with your tits and you've never skipped out on that opportunity.

Sometimes it even helps you sleep better after he's done suckling and slobbering all over your chest. (Or maybe it's the orgasm that helps.)

You begin to sway, with your back still pressed against Yoongi's front, to imaginary music as he struggles to undo your skirt.

Playfully, you condescend, "Does oppa need help taking a teensy skirt off?"

Yoongi looks taken aback. Scoffing, he roughly lifts your skirt, pulling it up higher and revealing your painfully regular, unsexy, washed-out blue cotton panties. You gasp mischievously, "Oppa, be gentle!"

Wasting no time, he grabs you by the waist and drags you to his recliner chair, walking backwards. You pout, feigning offense, "Oppa, you're so harsh..."

Yoongi scoffs in amusement and plops on the comfortable chair, pulling you down on his lap. You squeak an apology when your back harshly smacks into his face (although by no fault of yours.)

Yoongi groans and pulls your knees apart, elevating and pulling them back towards your heads, exposing your still clothed centre.

Yoongi wishes he had a mirror in front of the two of you so he could watch your expressions as he teases you. Maybe he'd bribe you to tag along to IKEA with him the very next day.

You're dripping through your panties, halfway to an orgasm. All because of Yoongi's mouth on your tits. It's only a little humiliating.

Your breathing stabilizes as Yoongi gives you time to steady yourself.

That doesn't last too long after Yoongi's finger traces your sensitive, puffy lips. You jerk and shiver involuntarily, but he holds you in place. The shielded, tiny bundle of nerves yearning to be played with makes you clench around nothing.

Yoongi stuffs his hand inside your panties and begins palming your pussy, getting your essence all over his palm. Your head instantly lolls back as you thank him profusely.

Yoongi groans, his fingers instantly finding your clit, "Fuck... _____, you're so wet. Didn't even have to use my spit. So fucking slippery already..." His throaty tone making you hornier by the second, you moan in delight, "Mm! Oppa... please don't stop..."

Yoongi feels like a pervert getting off on being called 'oppa' by you as he continues teasing your clit, lightly drawing circles on the hood.

"Oppa, please I need your cock in me. Want you to creampie me..."

A little surprised, he scoffs, "What a desperate slut."

You moan (whine) in agreement.

He's unbelievably hard but he won't give in just yet. He kisses the back of your shoulder instead.

Yoongi's middle and ring fingers tease your tight, wet entrance while he thumbs your clit (a little harder this time.)

"Show me your hands." Yoongi's demand confuses your already-dazed self but you comply, lifting both your open palms up close to your faces.

With his free hand, one at a time, Yoongi pulls your hands to his mouth and licks your fingers, "Play with your tits."

You obey and begin tenderly squeezing your breasts, feeling all around and over your areola, rubbing Yoongi's spit on them while gradually building up to toying with your perked nipples.

Never taking his thumb off your clit, he speeds up, now drawing tight circles on your ultra sensitive sweet spot. Your legs spread themselves wider and your fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they mindlessly pinch and soothe your sensitive nubs.

You're unapologetically leaking on Yoongi's very expensive trousers. He doesn't mind though. Yoongi wouldn't mind even if you peed on him. HIS words, not yours.

"Yoongi. Oh, Yoon- Yoonie..." Your whines and moans get breathier and (variations of) his name frequents your tongue as you begin to squirm harder in his lap.

Torturous, his digits continue their assault on your puffy little cunt.

Still barely penetrating you with two of his fingers, Yoongi presses his thumb down harder on your clit flicking it side to side, earning high-pitched cries from you.

Your breathing quickens and your hips lift involuntarily. Your orgasm's so close you can smell it. As can your boyfriend.

Yoongi's face twists in pleasure, watching only his fingers pull these reactions out of you.

"Please, faster, Yoonie... I'll be so good for you, oppa." Letting go off your breasts, you grip the arm of the recliner and your boyfriend's too. You begin grinding down on Yoongi's stiff cock, still hidden in his pants, as you near your climax.

Your somewhat coherent moans turn into nonsensical cries and babbles as Yoongi rubs your pussy faster every second.

The back of your head slams into Yoongi's shoulder. Taking advantage of the change in your posture, he leans in to kiss you, muffling your borderline screams, still playing with your clit.

"Mmmffhp...!!" A specific, very intentional, graze of Yoongi's finger on your other, tight hole sends you through the roof.

Yoongi vocalises in content and satisfaction as you begin to writhe uncontrollably on his lap as your orgasm takes over your entire body.

He palms your pussy to distribute the pressure and help you avoid overstimulation.

You force your tongue into his mouth and suck on his own as he brings you back down on Earth.

The muscles of your lips hurt from kissing so hard.

Reluctantly, Yoongi's the one who pulls away first.

He draws your legs shut and lays you across his lap, as well as the chair could accommodate it, supporting your upper back and head with his arms.

Yoongi smiles and watches your tummy move up and down as you breathe, thinking you'd be falling into slumber anytime now.

After lying motionless for another few minutes, your eyes open and focus on the fond expression on your boyfriend's face.

Your smile comes naturally as you decide to straddle him. All things innocent, of course.

Six months ago, Yoongi most likely wouldn't have known you. If he had somehow noticed you, he probably only knew you as just another girl from his friend's workplace who invited herself to every one of their group hangouts to stare at Yoongi. Not that he ever complained. But now, you're one of, if not the most important people in his life without whom he'd be incomplete.

As cheesy as it sounds, he can't rephrase it. You complete him. You're 'it' for him.

Resting your cheek on top of Yoongi's head, you sigh dreamily, "Thank you."

"Mm." Yoongi simply vocalised in response and held you in an embrace, planting innocent kisses across your breasts.

A peaceful moment passes. Then you gasp in realisation, "Oppa!" You cheer, "We have the whole 'olive theory' thing going!"

Yoongi pulls away to look up at you. The red 'afterglow' tinge on Yoongi's face darkens just a little, thoroughly endeared by your usage of the affectionate term. Almost to the point where he nearly misses everything it was followed by.

He catches himself, "We do?"

"It's this theory that tests how compatible a couple is." You explain, "If one likes olives and the other doesn't, they'd be the perfect match!"

Ah.

"So you're saying we're a perfect match?" Yoongi smirks, feeling smug.

You blink down at him, "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I would." He nods, "I love you."

Placing a chaste kiss on Yoongi's lips, you smile, "Good." It's sort of an unspoken 'I love you too'.

note: im sooo sorry it took so long! this was like one of the first requests i received so thanks again!

i'm still learning to write smut ok be nicE

this is unedited too 🫣 srry

[cheeseceli]

I'm not letting go

Pairing: Min Yoongi × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: hurt/comfort, drabble

Prompt: “The only thing that is harder than sleeping alone is sleeping with your ghost”

Warnings: almost heartbreak, pressure of media (about your relationship), established relationship, not proofread.

A/n: don't be like the "fans" here!! Let idols date😭 | daily click

Yoongi has always been scared of falling in love. Not because he was scared of being hurt or abandoned, or falling for the wrong person. He was scared of it feeling good.

He heard the stories before. People falling in love and suddenly life has meaning. People sacrificing everything for the sake of a relationship and he was scared of this. Imagine being so unconditionally in love that you don't recognise yourself unless you're in someone else's arms? Yoongi didn't want to feel that. Sadly, he can't control the heart.

When you showed up in his life, he would've never imagined the impact you would've had. Every little action and thought of his was somehow linked to you, just like yours were to him. At some point, it was like you were slowly becoming one. And he liked it.

He truly enjoyed the feeling of belonging somewhere. He loved the fact he could go to bed smiling just because you wished him good night. God, he loved you. And although it took him time to admit it, that's a statement he's never taking back, even if that's precisely what the people wanted of him.

Gossip never fails on being fast when it's spreading itself. And the lies are also surprisingly quick to make an appearance. "Suga of BTS is spotted with a non celebrity on a date" is a title that sells a lot. "What a gold digger" is also a quick yet bold statement, that to not mention other people's opinion. People loved to intrude in Yoongi's life, and he could take it. But it was too much for you.

Especially when the company barged into your door, demanding you to sign a NDA about all the rumours. That was probably the worst part.

When you agreed to dating Yoongi, to dating Suga, you were well aware of his life as an idol. He had to work a lot, he'd be constantly overseas, you'd need to be discreet. But you were not prepared for the insane inhumanity that came along with fame. You were also not ready to see staff and managers trying to take over your life.

That's how Yoongi found himself on his bed, alone and without a single goodnight message. Today was particularly harsh on you. The company thought it would be better to break you two up and just tell the media they were wrong about the photos that were leaked. The fact they just sent you home while you were broken hearted was something that still lingered on his mind. And he still doesn't know why he didn't do anything about it.

Yoongi truly didn't want to fall in love. Simply because it was too good. And now, the best he ever had was being taken away from him. He could endure being alone, but feeling your ghost wherever he goes is just too much. That's precisely why he decides to wake you up by knocking at your door at 3 am.

"What are you doing here?"

That was it. No smile at his sight, no hugs, not even confusion. Just pain laced in your voice. Oh, how he hated all of that.

"We didn't break up, did we?"

"Your company said we should."

"But did we?"

You sighed. It was clear all that situation was exhausting you. But you still answered the door. You were still there. There was still hope, right?

"I don't know if I'm worthy of all this trouble, honestly. The messages I'm getting from the managers ain't any better from what I read on the internet. And that's your job at the stake here. I'm sure it's all way worse for you."

"So we're still together, but you think that's a mistake?"

"Not a mistake. No, never that" you breathed in and closed your eyes. Just this sight was enough to break a man's heart. "But it would make things easier for you."

"When has anything in my life been easy, Y/n? I don't care about that. Unless you explicitly tell me that you don't want anything to do with me anymore, I will not let you go."

"What about the hate comments?"

"I can sue every single one of them."

"And your company?"

"What are they gonna do, fire me?"

You laughed at that. Even if that happened at the same time your first tear rolled down, Yoongi was relieved to see your smile.

"You're too stubborn, did you know that?"

"It pays off." he said while he finally closed the distance between the two of you, embracing your figure into a hug. He missed the way you would circle his waist with your arms, how you'd hide your face in his neck. He missed you.

"Don't ever go to bed without wishing me a good night ever again."

"Noted." you smiled "I won't."

Masterlist | you'll probably like: sing to me

Thank you for reading!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @lelewright1234

Dividers by @cafekitsune | images 1, 2 and 3

[cybsoo2]

sanguine slumber

╰┈➤ synopsis — So tempted by soft slumber, you just want to sleep. But Yoongi seems to have a present for you and it isn’t exactly ideal. 

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!cat-hybrid!suga x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 650+

╰┈➤ content warning — SPOILER!!!! dead animal (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; happy birthday yoongi!! i've been missing him too much lately

A soft rumbling sound brings you out of your sweet slumber. A warm weight lays across your back. A heat that grows hotter as Yoongi rubs his hands alongside your abdomen. Up and down, repeated, and teasing at the bottom of your sleep shirt.

The rumbling seems to be coming from Yoongi himself. A low purring that lays deep in his chest. The sensation mixed with his short puffs of breath touching your ear almost send you back to sleep. Almost.

Yoongi’s hands redden with a roughness as his claws peek out enough to delicately graze your sides. Sharp nails scratching along the surface, not enough to significantly hurt you, but enough to leave pink lines in their path. You squirm underneath him from the discomfort and let out a groan.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Yoongi huffs out as if he isn’t already half asleep himself. “I have a present for you.” While he speaks, he shifts his head to turn away from your face and stuff into your hair. He nestles himself deeper into the space between your neck and the pillow. A bad decision since a strawberry smell threatens to take him out. 

Yoongi keeps his focus on decorating your neck with lingering kisses in order to stay awake. His tail tangles itself around your waist in a lazy fashion. The tip twitching from every small breath you let out.

You only groan into the pillow and ignore him. A fuzzy haze begins to settle beneath your eyelids until a pinching pain erupts from your neck. “Hey, hey no biting,” Your words are slurred and down-slide into silence.

Yoongi, with his teeth still lodged into your neck, pouts a little before peppering pecks onto your pinkening flesh. He huffs in disappointment at your still sleepy self.

“Wake up, I said I have a present.” Yoongi raises himself onto his arms the slightest bit so he hovers over your face. He breathes short puffs of air through his puffed up cheeks and pouty lips. He watches as the wind makes your eyelashes flutter and causes your eyelids to twitch. He moves his tail up higher to rest at the base of your chin, tickling you in an annoying way. 

You continue to stand between the sinking state of slumber and the surface. You stay stubborn and still underneath his body. Yoongi’s purring stops and he almost starts to sulk. Instead, two hands turn you upwards to face him. You grimace at the sunshine that peeks around him and squint your eyes. 

“Stop being stubborn.” He sits up so he straddles your waist. Yoongi huffs and furrows his brows in frustration. He leans down again and puts more pressure into his kisses. He presses his plush lips onto your rosy cheeks. He leaves fluttering kisses across every inch of your face. Blue butterflies burn in your stomach. 

When his kisses drag down onto your jaw is when you notice how warm they are. Warm and… wet? You peek open one eye and fight against the blinding light. Your foggy gaze comes into focus and that’s when you see how red his lips are.

You reach out to grab his jaw, nimble fingers tighten around the bone and draw his face downwards. He reaches a hand up to hold onto your wrist and a second scarlet stain appears. You panic to pull yourself up off your back, bucking Yoongi downwards off your hips and onto the space beside you. 

Feathers (definitely not from the pillow) cover the bed while a few float in the air from your rapid movement. You turn to face Yoongi and he parts his lips in a scarlet smile. He spits out a feather and brings his hands out from behind his back.

A bloody bird sits in the middle of his palms. The wings stick up in two impossible directions. The head, hanging on by a single tendon, snaps off and rolls onto your lap.

“Do you like it?” A shy smile shines on his blushing cheeks. 

You wipe the sides of your face before responding. Ruby red rolls off onto your hands. “Oh, Yoongi.”

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[hyungieyoongi]

Shooky

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Established relationship + FLUFFY FLUFF

Word Count: 700+

A/N: I am already missing Yoongi Boongi and he is not even gone yet, so I wrote this little drabble to make my heart warm 💜 

Yoongi shut the door quietly behind him, slipping off his shoes in the entryway of your shared home. He shushed Holly as the dog came bounding up to him in excitement, awoken by the noise of his owner coming home at such a late hour. Yoongi bent down, petting the dog affectionately, cooing at him to get him to be quiet.

With Holly now happily following after him, Yoongi made his way through the dimly lit house toward your bedroom, the door still nudged open from Holly coming to greet him. The small poodle snuggled back onto his dog bed in the corner of the room, quickly falling back asleep now that his two favorite people were back home.

Yoongi sat on the edge of the bed near your sleeping form, trying to decide whether to wake you now or save the surprise for tomorrow morning when you inevitably found him sleeping next to you. He watched you sleep for a moment, peacefully unaware of his presence. He mulled it over, considering letting you rest undisturbed, but he couldn't wait.

He rubbed your arm gently, whispering your name, trying to wake you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, wake up,” Yoongi whispered, waiting for your eyes to open.

You groaned quietly, upset at being disturbed from your deep sleep. You squinted up at Yoongi, momentarily confused before you could make out your boyfriend’s form in the dark room.

“Yoongi!” you nearly shouted, voice rough from sleep. You shoved the covers away from your body, immediately sitting up so you could wrap your arms around him; his arms tightened around you instantly.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Yoongi murmured, words slightly muffled as he spoke them against your hair.

You pulled back to look at him, eyes taking in every detail about his features that you had missed for the past month while he was away at training. His hair was short, of course, but you still hadn’t gotten used to it after seeing him with long, dark locks for so long. You cupped his cheeks between your hands, squeezing his bread cheeks together slightly, making him laugh—you missed that sound.

“I missed you so much, Yoongs,” you said. You blinked a few times to rid yourself of the tears that started to accumulate.

Yoongi grabbed your hands in his own, taking them away from his face so he could kiss the back of both of them.

“I missed you too, love,” he said, leaning forward to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to deepen it when he pulled away. You whined, making Yoongi chuckle at your impatience.

“Wait a second,” Yoongi said, reaching over to your side to grab the stuffed plush taking over his side of the bed. You felt your face heat up as he brought it in front of your face to show you. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Should I be jealous that you’re sleeping with Shooky instead of me?” You grabbed the plush out of his hands in response, wrapping it in your arms protectively.

“That’s so not fair, Min! You leave me for a whole month and expect me to just not have anything to cuddle with while you’re gone? I don’t think so!” You responded, scoffing lightly at the thought of sleeping alone while your boyfriend was away.

“Oh, is Shooky better at cuddling than me?” Yoongi asked. You rolled your eyes at his antics, placing Shooky gently on the floor next to the bed for safe keeping.

“Of course not,” you conceded. “I would much prefer to be cuddling with you.”

“Just making sure you didn’t replace me,” Yoongi said, left side of his mouth quirked up in a teasing smirk.

“Shut up and come cuddle with me before I kick you out and bring Shooky back to bed,” you threatened, laying back down and pulling the covers up to your chin.

Yoongi stood up, kissing you on the forehead before making his way to his side of the bed.

“Shooky can stay on the ground tonight, alright?” Yoongi said as he got comfortable under the covers, wrapping his arm around your waist to bring your body closer to his. You smiled, the warm feeling of comfort washing over you; the kind that can only come from having the love of your life home with you.

“I’m sure Shooky won’t mind.”

---

Check out my other work! ��️

Taglist: @alpacaparkaseok​ , @delacyrose224​ , @aianloveseven​ , @dulce-pjm​, @milk-and-moni​, @wittyreader​, @royallyjjk​, @themochiverse​, @moondearing, @jiminshairline​​, @starstruckfangirls

[bubble7o7]

Mature content

Over 18’s Only

Min Yoongi x Reader

Hard…

“Baby?…Babe?” you hear that gorgeous deep voice call out to you.

“Come to bed?… please?” He holds out his hand to you.

“I just want to catch the end of this. Go back to bed I won’t be long”

He never has to ask you twice on any other occasion but when you’ve waited all week for the next episode of your favourite drama and need to wind down from work… this is your spot and you’re not budging for anyone. Not even your handsome, sleepy, husky voiced, bed haired love.

“Come to bed” he pouts “Can’t you watch it tomorrow?”

“I won’t have time tomorrow, just go to bed I won’t be long baby, I promise.”

“No…” he huffs. He stumbles through the hallway clambering over the sofa, he flops down by your side. He lifts your arm and tucks himself under you while wrapping his arm and leg over you…

“I can’t sleep, I keep waking up to cuddle into you but you’re not there” he mumbles into your boob and squeezing you tighter.

“Ok, Ok… shhhh” you cuddle him into you, gently stroking your fingers through his hair which usually helps him relax. You make the mistake of watching him dose back off, you take in a deep breath at the beauty of him.

“God you’re too cute you know… it would be so funny if people saw this side of you…”

“What do you mean?” He mumbles.

“That hard exterior people think you have but you’re just my soft, clingy boy” you gently squeeze him into you again.

“Yah!” He jumps up, yanks you by your hips and pulls you down so you’re now flat on the sofa underneath him and he straddles over you.

“I’m Soft… “ he kisses you hard.

“I’m Clingy!” He moans as he nibbles down your neck.

“Boy!?” He kisses you again, while his hand slowly wanders from your boob, to your hips then he grabs a firm hold of your arse and presses himself closer to you.

“I’ll have you know I’m hard…” he grinds himself slowly against you. You let out a little moan.

“Tough” he kisses you passionately “and a man” he grins.

“Baby I know… I can feel it” you smile as you lean in and kiss his neck, while grabbing a firm hold of his arse with both hands.

“Wait… what are you watching?” a sound from the TV catches his attention.

“Erm… All of us are dead… why?”

He quickly jumps up from the sofa “Yeah… nope!. I’ll let you catch up and come to bed when you’re ready! Goodnight, I love you…” he pecks at your lips then rushes down the hallway back to bed.

“What the fuck!” You laugh. “Wait! Where’s my hard, tough man gone?!”

“To bed! and you should follow him!” He yells.

You can’t help but smile to yourself at the fact you have to watch horror films on your own because your boyfriend point blank refuses to!

You finish the last 15 minutes and tip toe into your room, it’s pitch black. “Yoongs… are you awake?” you whisper.

“Babe… I can’t see a thing… Ooff!” You stumble near the bed. Total silence.

“Baby?… are you taking the piss?”

You lean down to turn your bedside light on.

Just then there’s an almighty bang and the door flings open from the en suite and Yoongi’s rushing towards you.

“FuckShit!… you fucking dick!” You scream as he grabs hold of you and flings you on the bed. “My heart is pounding you fucking dick!” You cry out.

“Let me feel?” He laughs.

“That’s not my heart!” He has his hand clamped on to your boob, smiling at you before kissing you softly on either cheek then pecking at your pouting lips.

“You scared the crap out of me…”

“I’m sorry my love”

“You’re awfully cocky, scaring me like that for someone who wont even watch a Zombie Tv show… my hard, tough man” you smile.

“Mhuh” he mumbles as he leans in and kisses you hard and slow, he grips either side of your pj bottoms and pulls them off, tossing them to one side.

He gently grinds himself against you and whispers “Let me show you how hard I am”.

“Oh fuck…” you moan.

[nightscapepersona]

One Guitar, Tangerine Breadcrumbs, and a Golden Afternoon — Yoongi Drabble

Aaaaand... this is a Yoongi drabble I’ve been keeping in the draft trunk. Just a soft kind of afternoon.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader, Yoongi x OFC

Genre: Fluff (no particular AU but he’s still a musician)

Word count: 833

Recommended Songs: Golden Hour — JVKE; People — Agust D

Summary: A golden afternoon. One rooftop. Tangerine breadcrumbs. Two fools. One guitar. OR: “Guide me.” He uttered the two words so lowly that they rumbled against her ear.

Masterlist

One Guitar, Tangerine Breadcrumbs, and a Golden Afternoon — by Nightscape Persona

✻  ✻  ✻

The afternoon had been spent away on the rooftop, amid billows of laughter and questions back and forth. She loved learning about him, hearing him talk.

The garden swayed with the wind, and she swayed with infatuation.

Though it was more than that now.

The golden hour stretched its fingers over their two bodies, feet apart from each other, sitting on the same bench. Still two awkward for close contact, yet budging closer by the minute.

She then had the great idea to remind him of the guitar.

His guitar.

A black guitar he brought with him. Because he was going to practice on the rooftop. To strum away his afternoon. Albeit the only thing that was strummed away was his heart, away into her gaze.

A black guitar against the bench. Crumbles of tangerine shortcake on the floor.

Anyways. She reminded him of his forgotten trinket. Maybe he’d prick the strings for her.

Or maybe not.

Yoongi asked if she played. Which was dumb, because he knew she did.

She answered yes, wondering why he’d ask that.

He asked her to play.

That’s not what she had in mind. Still, she picked up the instrument, handling it like you would an ancient artifact.

As if it was most fragile.

Most fragile, like her regard for his regard of her.

Most fragile because it was his, and he let her place her hands on it. Like he’d let her place them on his soul.

Maybe she was an exception, or maybe he let others do this too. Borrow his guitar. Play the strings for him. Tug at his heartstrings just a bit.

So she started to strum some chords. A loose melody that would maybe grow into a song. She wasn’t sure yet how the lyrics would go. Perhaps something about tangerine bread and golden afternoons.

Suddenly, he was moving to sit behind her, leaning forward on her back. He smiled at her over her shoulder, as if to look at her play from over there.

She looked at him in bewilderment. Was he really going to watch her play like this?

His next move surprised her even further. He put his arms around her and moved his fingers to delicately graze hers.

No, Yoongi was going to play with her.

As if close ain’t close enough.

“Guide me.”

He uttered the two words so lowly that they rumbled against her ear.

He smelled of coffee and cologne. Delectable, the americano he had been sipping before. Intoxicating, the smell of him.

“You of all people are asking me to guide you?,” she laughed, leaning back on his chest and shoulder, trying to conceal her nervousness. “You know, on the instrument you already know how to play?”

“Not with you. You make me forget everything I think I know.”

He brushed the words against her hair. Leaned his head against hers.

Her stomach plummeted. Her heart did a somersault.

And something changed in the air.

And it called for both of them to suddenly turn serious. Her throat ran dry, a heaviness falling over her limbs. Her heart hummingbirding in her chest.

The laughter gone, her tremulous fingers reached for his own on the guitar. His eyes traced her hands’ movement. She covered his fingers with hers, and led him along the chords.

It was a little bit awkward, and the notes didn’t come out quite right. But she kept going. She gently lifted his fingers and placed them around the strings. For the comfort of brushing his fingers, which had gone cold, just like hers, with the air growing colder and the sudden nervousness that settled in them both.

Was she afraid? Why was she so… insecure? Nervous?

The fear of something new.

The atmosphere teeming with growing feelings, unnerving realizations, and unsaid words. It ought to be.

Eventually, Yoongi just clasped his hands in hers, and she closed her eyes, against him. The evening was too cold to feel his warmth against her back, but she felt it all around her. Both opened their eyes to an orange sun falling in between the gray clouds and the city lights starting to glint beyond the rooftop.

There in the cold evening, they claimed a moment from time.

It was not just the prickling warmth of the March sun on their cheeks. Or the chilly wind messing with their hair. Or the temperature dropping as the sun continued sinking down.

It’s the way she felt, pressed up against him.

The future which was uncertainly certain. The peace of finding something that feels right, someone who feels right.

The quietness.

The chaos.

The beating of her heart.

The beating of his own.

The whirlwind of found feelings coming down into their rightful places. Of realizing that she belonged with him. Everything happening at once.

He resumed the strumming, softly. She felt herself breathe. He smiled against her neck.

Everything would be alright.

He was hers. She was his.

A sunset changing from orange to red.

✻  ✻  ✻

Masterlist

Read on archive of our own.

[mxckiemxn]

Min Yoongi Drabble Masterlist 📝

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Genre: Fluff 💜, Angst ☔️, Crack 💀, Horror 👻

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Silent Lover 💜

[hueseok]

can’t stop thinking about boyfriend!yoongi who in a way, found his match with you.

for decades, his oldest friends always teased him for being the textbook definition of ‘nonchalant’, labeling him as a stoic man who loved to pretend that he didn’t care about anything—even though in reality, there were always a few tells that made it obvious that he did.

he was the type of guy who made it seem like he didn’t care if you forgot about his birthday, but would send a joke afterwards saying that he was disappointed that you didn’t remember.

or the type who acted like it didn’t matter to him if the meal he worked hard on cooking tasted delicious for your taste buds, only to grin really wide as soon as you complimented him and uttered a string of praises afterwards.

it was an endearing quality of yoongi’s, a rather fascinating trait that also became the butt of the joke at times whenever the topic was his love life and his bad luck when it came to relationships.

“you can come off as emotionally unavailable,” hoseok told him over beer once. “ladies don’t like that. they want men who can tell them how special they are.”

“isn’t it enough that i show it?” yoongi asked, having just been dumped by the girl he was dating. “i mean, i drive her to work every single day. i fetch her from work whenever i can too. i buy her stuff if it’s necessary, like shampoo or paper towels.”

hoseok stared at him. “paper towels?”

“yeah.”

“wow. i take it all back. you are the most romantic man on the planet.”

yoongi rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. “she mentioned she was running out of them so i bought more for her.”

“are you her dad or something?”

“i heard ladies like a provider.”

“yes, but not in that sense. it’s more like… you get the bill whenever you’re having lunch or dinner at a restaurant, or buying her a bag she’s been eyeing, or paying for her nails when she gets them done. doing all of that without not being asked is the key aspect of it, really.”

“how do you know this stuff?”

hoseok shrugged. “i have an older sister,” he says. “also, i’m engaged to my girlfriend of 6 years. being in a relationship that long ought to teach you a lot.”

thanks to that conversation, yoongi began understanding what it really meant to be a great and affectionate boyfriend without sacrificing his rather reserved personality. he knew what the right gestures to do, what the right things to say, what the right gifts to buy—and he did all of that with utmost sincerity, genuinely wanting to be a better partner for his current girlfriend, which also happened to be you.

the funny thing, though?

you couldn’t seem to recognize the nice boyfriend things yoongi was doing and how much he improved compared to his last relationship.

you were just… independent, he thought. a strong woman who didn’t like to be coddled and didn’t like asking help from anyone regardless of how much you may be already struggling. he had a realization that you were naturally like this because of the stories you used to tell him that made him understand that you just weren’t used to relying on others, a trait that he didn’t have an issue with and sometimes even admired.

however, he couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t sometimes frustrating as well.

for example, just last week, the both of you had a semi-big fight because of how you constantly insisted on changing the broken lightbulb in your bedroom yourself even though yoongi was already telling you that he could do it instead. in the end, since you were stubborn as hell, you still tried changing it on your own but had a very minor injury due to falling off the stool you were standing on for extra height.

yoongi was furious when he found out, and you ultimately became furious because it seemed like he was being unfair to you, the negative energy impacting your mood and rationality that you didn’t get how he was more mad on the fact that you let your pride get to you than just asking for his damn help for the freaking lightbulb.

when the both of you calmed down and said your apologies, yoongi took your hands and looked directly in your eyes. “babe, you have to start depending on me,” he said.

the straightforwardness caught you off guard. “huh?”

“i mean…” you felt him squeeze your fingers softly, “i understand that you’re used to doing things all on your own… how you don’t like being treated like some baby… but that shouldn’t be the case with me, okay? i’m here to take care of you, to always help you with whatever you need.”

you opened your mouth, about to say something he knew was not going to align with his point, so he took the liberty to cut you off.

“i’m serious. you know what i’m talking about. let me take care of you, ____.”

“but—” you couldn’t continue with your sentence, a wave of emotions suddenly flooding you that made your throat tighten and voice quiver as you began speaking again— “how? i… i don’t—i just… you don’t need to. i don’t want to be a burden.”

yoongi gave you a look, a mixture of fondness and disbelief. “you? a burden?”

“yeah. you don’t need to take care of me.”

“i’m well aware that you’re a grown woman who doesn’t need taking care of.” he joked. “but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to do it. that’s why if i were you, i would just start depending on my poor boyfriend and learn how to be comfortable in being taken care of because it’s definitely how things are going to be now that he’s here.”

you snorted at the use of third person. “fine,” you sniffled, “okay, i’ll try to be better at asking for help next time.”

he sighed in relief, releasing your hands to instead engulf you in a tight embrace. “thank you, baby. i appreciate it a lot.”

****

the first time you willingly asked yoongi for a favor after that talk—regardless of how small and trivial it was—it still affected him big time.

“can you help me assemble the drawer i bought?” you asked him over dinner, ever so casual and nonchalant.

he almost dropped the chopsticks he was holding. “what?”

“i said, can you—”

“no, i heard that perfectly well. i’m just surprised at what i’m hearing.”

your lips twitched while your face visibly burned. “don’t start teasing me or else—”

“i’m not.” he laughed, a little too loudly than usual, before reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “i’m not, i swear. i’m just happy.”

“you’re happy because i’m asking for help?”

“i’m happy because you’re letting me take care of you,” he corrected. “it’s a bit overdue in my opinion but who am i to complain?”

you playfully shoved his hand away, which made yoongi laugh harder and lean towards you to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, letting you know that your simple effort of trying to let him in meant so much more than words could ever say.

note. this blurb is unedited and has been in my drafts since december because it's always yoongi missing hours!!!!! but for real though, i wish yoongi is doing great and is always surrounded by good people who can give him the support he needs + remind him how loved he is :(

[gukcnt]

۶ৎ BROKEN CHORDS AND MENDED HEARTS —

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m yours, baby. Always. Don’t leave me. I can’t—I can’t breathe without you.”

pairing: dom!yoongi x sub!femreader

genre: established relationship, producer!yoongi, artist!reader, domestic life, lots of angst, conflict in relationship, fluff, smut

warnings: 18+, explicit smut, emotional distress, mental health discussions, hurt/comfort, reconciliation, career pressures, arguments, saying hurtful words to each other, they love each other so much but are literally idiots, yoongi loves her so much he cries, neglect, ignorance, miscommunication, love confessions, crying due to love and heartbreak, make up sex, emotional sex, passionate and intense sex, oral sex (f. receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, breast play, nipple play, dirty talk, tearful intimacy, body worship, making out, hickies/marking, fingering, clit play, tongue fucking, eating out, face riding, cum swallowing, oral sex (m. receiving), cock sucking, face fucking, missionary, passionate sex, riding, creampie, praise kink, aftercare

wc: 7.08k

a/n: dont hate me for making this emotional but trust me it has a happy ending ! i also wrote this one because i miss my yoongi boongi, come home baby :((

masterlist

۶ৎ

The autumn of 2018 in Seoul was a canvas of crimson and gold, the air crisp with the promise of change. You were 24, a freelance graphic designer with a penchant for capturing the world’s quiet beauty in your sketchbook. Your life was a delicate balance of late-night coffee runs, client deadlines, and solitary evenings in your cramped Hongdae apartment, where you’d lose yourself in charcoal and ink. Min Yoongi, 25, was a rising star in the music industry, a producer whose haunting melodies and razor-sharp lyricism were beginning to ripple through Seoul’s underground scene. His name, whispered in dimly lit studios, was synonymous with raw talent, though he carried himself with a quiet intensity that kept the world at arm’s length.

You met him in a cozy café tucked away in a narrow alley, its walls lined with mismatched bookshelves and fairy lights that cast a warm glow. The scent of roasted coffee beans mingled with the faint musk of old paper, and an indie playlist hummed softly in the background. You sat by the window, your sketchbook splayed open, fingers smudged with charcoal as you traced the silhouette of a stranger across the room. That stranger was Yoongi, slouched in a corner booth, his black hoodie pulled low, earphones dangling loosely around his neck. His pale fingers danced across a tattered notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if he were unraveling the universe one word at a time.

You didn’t know who he was, only that his presence was magnetic—a quiet storm in human form. His sharp jawline, the faint scar slicing through his left eyebrow, the way his lips pursed slightly as he wrote—it all drew you in. You sketched him instinctively, your pencil capturing the curve of his cheek, the shadow of his lashes. When he glanced up, catching you staring, his dark eyes pinned you in place. They were cold at first, assessing, but then a flicker of curiosity softened them. You flushed, dropping your gaze, but he was already moving, his sneakers silent on the wooden floor.

“You’re sketching me without permission,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, as he slid into the seat across from you. Your heart stuttered, but you managed a nervous laugh, flipping the sketchbook to show him. He studied it, his expression unreadable, his long fingers brushing the edge of the page. “Not bad,” he said finally, leaning back. “But you missed the scar on my eyebrow.” His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk, and that was the moment you knew you were in trouble.

You apologized, stumbling over your words, but he waved it off, his eyes lingering on you. “What’s your name?” he asked, and when you told him, he repeated it softly, like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. You learned his name—Min Yoongi—and that he was a producer, though he downplayed it, shrugging as if it were no big deal. You exchanged numbers, a casual “maybe we’ll talk” hanging in the air, but the spark was undeniable.

What began as sporadic texts about art and music bloomed into something deeper. Yoongi was guarded, his messages short and clipped at first, but he warmed over time. Late-night calls became your ritual, his voice a soothing anchor as he shared fragments of his life: his childhood in Daegu, where he’d sneak into his father’s study to play old jazz records; his teenage years grappling with anxiety and ambition; his relentless drive to create music that mattered. You opened up too, telling him about your dream of designing album covers, your love for capturing fleeting moments in your sketches, the way you found solace in the chaos of creation. He listened, his silences thoughtful, his rare replies piercingly insightful. “You see the world differently,” he said once, his voice soft. “I like that.”

Your first date was at a vinyl record store in Itaewon, Yoongi’s choice. The shop was a labyrinth of crates, the air thick with the scent of aged vinyl and dust. Yoongi moved through the aisles with purpose, his slim frame weaving between stacks, pulling out records. He spoke with a quiet passion, explaining how each artist shaped his sound, his hands animated, his eyes alight. You watched, captivated, as he handed you a record. “Listen to this tonight,” he said, his voice low. “Tell me what you see.”

That night, you played the record, the soulful trumpet filling your apartment. You sketched as you listened, your pencil tracing swirling blues and purples, abstract shapes of longing and melancholy. You sent him the images, your heart pounding. He called immediately, his voice husky. “You get it,” he said. “You get me.” The words felt like a confession, and you knew then that you were falling.

Yoongi’s love was subtle but consuming. He wasn’t one for grand gestures; his affection was in the details. He’d leave sticky notes on your sketchbooks, his slanted handwriting scrawling things like, “Your art is my favorite song,” or “Don’t forget to eat, baby.” He’d memorize your coffee order—black, no sugar, with a pinch of cinnamon—and bring it to you unprompted, his fingers brushing yours as he handed you the cup. When you were stressed, he’d pull you into his lap, his arms a fortress, his lips grazing your temple. “Breathe, baby,” he’d murmur. “I’ve got you.”

His pet name for you, “baby,” was a melody, soft and reverent, a word he used only for you. It slipped from his lips naturally, whether he was whispering it in the dark or saying it casually over breakfast. It was a claim, a promise, and it made your heart flutter every time.

Your relationship with Yoongi evolved into a dynamic of dominance and submission, a balance that felt as natural as breathing. Yoongi was protective, possessive in a way that thrilled you. On crowded streets, he’d grip your wrist, his touch firm but gentle, guiding you through the chaos. In private, he was commanding, his voice dropping to a low growl when he told you what he wanted. “Come here, baby,” he’d say, patting his thigh, and you’d obey, your body humming with anticipation. His dominance was never harsh; it was rooted in love, in his need to care for you, to make you feel safe.

“You’re mine,” he’d whisper, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands mapping your body with reverence. “But I’m yours too.” You trusted him completely, surrendering to his control because you knew he’d never push you beyond your limits. He’d check in, his eyes searching yours—“Is this okay, baby?”—and your soft nods were enough to spur him on. The dynamic deepened your bond, a silent language of trust and desire.

By 2019, you’d moved in together into a sleek apartment, a space that married Yoongi’s minimalist aesthetic with your vibrant touches. The living room was stark—black leather couch, glass coffee table, a grand piano in the corner where Yoongi would play late at night, his fingers coaxing melodies from the keys. Your influence was everywhere: colorful throw pillows, framed sketches of cityscapes and abstract emotions, potted plants spilling over every surface, their green leaves softening the room’s edges. Yoongi’s home studio was his sanctuary, a soundproofed haven filled with monitors, keyboards, and stacks of notebooks. He left the door open for you, a silent invitation. You’d curl up on the couch inside, sketching while he worked, the hum of his equipment a comforting pulse.

Life together was a rhythm of shared moments. Mornings were slow, Yoongi brewing coffee while you scrambled eggs, his arms slipping around your waist as he kissed the back of your neck. “Smells good, baby,” he’d murmur, his voice still rough with sleep. Evenings were for music and art, you sketching at the dining table while he played rough demos, asking for your thoughts. “What’s the vibe of this one?” he’d say, and you’d describe colors and shapes, your words guiding his edits.

Yoongi’s love was a constant, a quiet devotion that anchored you. He was cold to the world, his face a mask of indifference, but with you, he was soft, vulnerable. His rare smiles—gummy, unguarded—were yours alone, blooming when you danced around the kitchen, singing off-key to his tracks. He’d pull you close in the dead of night, his breath warm against your neck, whispering, “You’re my everything, baby.” He’d listen to you ramble about your day, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh, his eyes never straying from your face.

Your life with Yoongi was punctuated by moments of pure romance, each one etched into your memory like a painting. One summer night, he surprised you with a picnic in a secluded park, the city skyline glittering in the distance. He’d packed your favorite foods—kimchi fried rice, spicy tteokbokki, mango sorbet—and spread a blanket under a canopy of stars. He played a playlist he’d made for you, soft R&B tracks that felt like a caress. When you danced, his arms around you, he swayed slowly, his lips brushing your ear. “I don’t say it enough,” he said, his voice low, “but I love you more than anything.” You cried, overwhelmed, and he kissed your tears away, his touch grounding you.

Another memory was a rainy afternoon in 2020, when you were stuck indoors, the windows streaked with water. You’d been sketching, frustrated with a client’s revisions, when Yoongi pulled you from your chair. “Enough of that,” he said, his voice firm. He put on a jazz record, the saxophone filling the room, and danced with you in the living room, his hands guiding your hips. When you tripped, laughing, he caught you, his eyes warm. “You’re perfect, baby,” he said, kissing you deeply, the rain a soft symphony outside.

Then there was the winter of 2021, when Seoul was blanketed in snow. You’d dragged Yoongi outside at midnight, insisting on building a snowman. He’d grumbled, his breath visible in the cold, his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but when you pouted, he relented, helping you roll snowballs, his gloved hands brushing yours. When you slipped on ice, he caught you, his laugh—a rare, bright sound—echoing in the quiet night. He kissed you right there, snowflakes catching in his dark hair, his lips cold but soft. “You’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” he said, but his eyes were full of adoration.

At industry events, Yoongi was Min Yoongi, the untouchable producer, his demeanor icy, his words clipped. But with you by his side, he softened. His hand would rest on your lower back, a possessive touch that sent shivers down your spine. If someone flirted with you, his eyes would darken, his voice cutting like a blade when he spoke to them. “She’s taken,” he’d say, his tone final. The moment they were gone, he’d turn to you, his expression melting. “You okay, baby?” he’d ask, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

By 2024, Yoongi’s career had soared to dizzying heights. He was producing for global artists, his name a staple in award show credits, his tracks dominating charts. But success came at a cost. His days were consumed by studio sessions, international Zoom calls, and late-night meetings with executives. He’d leave the apartment before dawn, his side of the bed cold when you woke, the faint scent of his cologne the only trace of him. He’d return past midnight, collapsing beside you, his body heavy with exhaustion. You’d reach for him, hoping for a moment of connection, but he’d be asleep within seconds, his breathing uneven, his brow still creased with stress.

His home office became his fortress, the door often closed now, the glow of his computer screen seeping under it. You’d knock softly, bringing him coffee or a plate of kimbap, but he’d barely look up, muttering, “Thanks, baby,” before diving back into his work. His touches grew fleeting—a quick kiss on your forehead as he rushed out, a distracted “I love you” over his shoulder. You missed him, the Yoongi who’d hold you for hours, who’d look at you like you were his entire universe.

The distance grew like a weed, subtle at first but choking over time. You’d wake to an empty apartment, the silence deafening. You’d eat breakfast alone, the clink of your spoon against the bowl a lonely sound. You’d text him, asking how his day was, and his replies were short, delayed: “Busy. Love you.” You’d linger outside his office, hesitating, then walk away, the rejection stinging even though he hadn’t said a word.

You tried to be supportive. His work was his passion, his legacy, and you’d always admired his drive. But the loneliness was a slow poison, seeping into your bones. You felt like a ghost in your own home, unseen, unheard. You stopped waiting up for him, stopped knocking on his office door. You threw yourself into your own work, designing album covers for indie bands, but the joy was dimmed by the ache in your chest. You’d sketch late into the night, your pencil tracing images of longing—empty beds, shadowed figures, broken hearts.

You began mirroring his distance, pulling back to protect yourself. You’d eat dinner alone, the TV on to fill the silence. You’d sleep on your side of the bed, not reaching for him when he slipped in. Your conversations dwindled to brief exchanges. “How was your day?” you’d ask, your voice flat. “Busy,” he’d say, eyes on his phone. “You?” You’d shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Fine.” The silence between you was heavy, suffocating, a chasm neither of you knew how to bridge.

One evening, you’d planned a special dinner, hoping to reclaim a piece of your old intimacy. You’d spent hours cooking—bulgogi, japchae, a strawberry cake you’d baked from scratch. You set the table with candles, your heart fluttering with nervous hope. But Yoongi texted at 7 p.m.: “Stuck at the studio. Don’t wait up.” You sat at the table alone, the food growing cold, the candles burning low. When he came home at 2 a.m., you were asleep, the table untouched. He didn’t mention it the next day, and you didn’t bring it up, the hurt too raw to voice.

The final straw was a weekend you’d planned to spend together, a rare break in his schedule. You’d booked a cabin in the countryside, dreaming of quiet walks and late-night talks by a fire. But at the last minute, he canceled, saying a client needed an emergency revision. “We’ll go another time,” he said, his voice distracted. You didn’t argue, just nodded, your heart sinking.

The tension erupted on a rainy evening in April 2025. Yoongi had been home for barely an hour, his jacket dripping from the downpour, when you snapped. You’d spent the day spiraling, your heart raw from weeks of neglect. He was in the kitchen, scrolling through emails on his phone, his shoulders hunched, when you stormed in, your voice trembling.

“Do you even see me anymore, Yoongi?” you demanded, your hands shaking. He looked up, startled, his brows furrowing. “What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“You’re never here!” you shouted, tears welling. “You leave before I wake up, you come home when I’m asleep. You’re always in that fucking office, and when you’re not, you’re glued to your phone. I’m right here, Yoongi, and you don’t even look at me!”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “I’m working, Y/N. You know how important this is. I’m doing this for us.”

“For us?” you laughed bitterly, your voice cracking. “When was the last time there was an ‘us’? You don’t talk to me, you don’t touch me. I feel like I’m living with a ghost! I’m not your baby anymore—I’m nothing to you!”

His face hardened, but his eyes flickered with hurt. “That’s not fair,” he said, his voice low, controlled. “I’m killing myself to provide for us, to build something. You think I want to be this busy? You think I don’t miss you?”

“Then why don’t you stop?” you cried, your voice rising. “Why don’t you choose me for once? Or am I not worth it anymore? Maybe you don’t even love me anymore, Yoongi. Maybe you never did!”

His expression cracked, pain flashing across his face. “Don’t say that,” he said, his voice shaking. “You know I love you. I’ve chosen you every damn day since we met. You’re my whole world, Y/N, but I can’t just drop everything because you’re feeling neglected.”

“Neglected?” you spat, tears streaming down your face. “That’s exactly what I am! You treat me like I’m invisible. I bet you’d be happier if I was gone, wouldn’t you? Maybe you’d rather be alone with your precious music than deal with me!”

His eyes widened, his breath hitching. “Y/N, stop,” he said, his voice breaking. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” you shouted, your voice raw. “I’m done being your afterthought, Yoongi. I deserve better than this. I deserve someone who actually gives a shit about me, not some selfish man who only cares about his career!”

His face paled, his hands trembling as he stepped toward you. “You’re breaking my heart, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying so hard, and you’re twisting it into something it’s not. Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t care, throwing all this in my face like my love means nothing.”

His words stung, but yours had been crueler, each one a dagger aimed at his heart. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped, but your anger was a wildfire, consuming reason. “Maybe it doesn’t,” you whispered, your voice venomous. “Maybe I should just leave and make it easier for you.”

His eyes filled with panic, but before he could respond, you turned and ran to the bedroom, slamming the door and locking it. You collapsed against it, sobs wracking your body, your words echoing in your mind. You hated yourself for what you’d said, for wounding him so deeply, but the pain was too raw, too overwhelming.

Yoongi’s voice came through the door, soft and desperate. “Y/N, open the door. Please, baby.” You didn’t answer, curling into yourself, your tears soaking the carpet. He knocked, harder now. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean it. Let’s talk, please. I love you.” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “Don’t shut me out like this.”

He knocked for hours, his pleas growing quieter, more broken. “I’m not leaving,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “I’ll stay right here until you’re ready. I love you, baby. I’m so sorry.” You heard him slide down the door, his breathing ragged, and you knew he was sitting there, his body pressed against the wood, his love for you keeping him anchored despite the cold, hard floor.

You cried yourself to sleep, the sound of his presence outside a bittersweet torment. He spent the night there, curled up in the hallway, his devotion unwavering even as your words tore at his heart.

You woke at dawn, your eyes swollen, your throat raw. The fight replayed in your mind, each word a fresh wound. You couldn’t stay, not like this. The loneliness, the hurt—it was too much. You needed space, time to heal. You packed a small bag, your hands trembling as you folded clothes, each item a reminder of the life you’d built with Yoongi. Your favorite sweater, the one he’d bought you on a whim; the scarf he’d wrapped around you during a winter walk; the sketchbook filled with drawings of him. It all felt like a betrayal to pack them away.

When you opened the door, you found Yoongi slumped against the wall, his head resting on his knees, his face pale, his eyes red-rimmed. He scrambled to his feet, panic flashing across his features as he saw the bag. “Y/N, no,” he said, his voice hoarse, raw from a night of pleading. “What are you doing?”

“I need a break,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “I’m going to my parents’ place. I can’t do this anymore, Yoongi.”

His eyes widened, his hands reaching for you, gripping your arms. “No, baby, please,” he said, his voice trembling. “Don’t leave me. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I know I’ve been distant, I know I’ve fucked up, but I’ll fix this. I swear I will.”

You shook your head, tears falling. “It’s not just about last night, Yoongi. It’s everything. I don’t feel like I matter to you anymore. I’m tired of begging for your attention, tired of feeling like I’m nothing.”

“You’re not nothing,” he said, his voice breaking. “You’re everything, Y/N. You’re my heart, my home. I’ve been an idiot, I know, but I can’t lose you. I love you more than anything. Please, baby, give me a chance to make this right.”

His words shattered you, and for the first time, you saw tears in his eyes, glistening on his lashes, streaming down his cheeks. Yoongi, the man who never cried, who hid his pain behind a stoic mask, was breaking before you. “I’m begging you,” he whispered, his hands sliding to your face, cupping your cheeks. “Don’t go. I’ll do anything, Y/N. I’ll quit if I have to. I’d rather die than live without you.”

You sobbed, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his desperation. “I don’t know if you can fix this,” you said, your voice wavering. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he said, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here. I’ll prove it to you, every day, for the rest of my life. Just don’t walk away. Please.”

He pulled you into his arms, his body trembling, his lips pressing frantic kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m yours, baby. Always. Don’t leave me. I can’t—I can’t breathe without you.”

You clung to him, your tears soaking his shirt, your heart torn between pain and love. His desperation, his vulnerability, chipped away at your walls. “Yoongi,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m so tired.”

“I know,” he said, his arms tightening around you. “I know, baby. Let me carry it for you. Let me make it right.” He kissed you then, hard and desperate, his lips tasting of salt and regret. The kiss was a plea, a promise, and you felt yourself melting into him, your bag slipping from your shoulder to the floor.

The kiss deepened, a collision of longing, apology, and raw need. Yoongi’s hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours as if he could fuse you together, keep you from slipping away. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve been so fucking stupid, baby. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You nodded, tears still falling, as he lifted you, carrying you to the bed. His touch was both tender and urgent, his fingers trembling as he undressed you, peeling away your clothes like he was unwrapping something sacred. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve of your breast. “My baby. My everything.”

He kissed every inch of your skin, worshiping you with a reverence that made your heart ache. His lips found your nipples, sucking gently, his tongue swirling, drawing soft moans from you. “So perfect,” he murmured, his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing the sensitive peaks. He moved lower, his kisses trailing down your stomach, his breath hot against your skin.

When he reached your pussy, he paused, his eyes meeting yours, dark with desire but soft with love. “I’ve neglected you,” he said, his voice low. “I’m so sorry, baby. Let me make it up to you.” He kissed you there, his lips soft at first, then hungry, his tongue exploring you with a devotion that sent shivers through your body. He licked and sucked, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for him. “You taste so good,” he groaned, his voice muffled against you. “I could stay here forever.”

You moaned, your hands fisting the sheets, your body arching into his mouth. He worshiped you, his tongue circling your clit, his lips sucking gently, until you were trembling, your breath hitching. “Yoongi,” you gasped, and he hummed, the vibration pushing you closer to the edge. “I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, baby,” he said, his voice a low command. “Let me feel you.” You did, your body shuddering, your cries filling the room as pleasure crashed over you. He didn’t stop, his tongue coaxing every aftershock from you, his hands stroking your thighs soothingly.

When you were spent, he kissed his way back up your body, his lips finding yours. “I love you,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m never letting you go.” You reached for him, your hands tugging at his shirt, and he helped you, stripping quickly until he was bare before you. You took him in, the lean lines of his body, the faint scars from old injuries, the hardness of his cock, already leaking with need.

You pushed him onto his back, straddling him, your hands roaming his chest. You kissed down his body, your lips tracing the planes of his stomach, the sharp jut of his hipbones. When you reached his cock, you took him in your hand, stroking slowly, watching his face. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting, a low groan escaping him.

“Baby,” he breathed, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip. You sucked him deep, your hands stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach, your eyes locked on his. He watched you, his gaze heavy with lust and love, his hands tangling in your hair. “Fuck, you’re so good,” he groaned, his hips twitching. “So perfect for me.”

You hummed, the vibration making him curse softly, his grip tightening. You worked him until he was panting, his control fraying, then pulled back, kissing his thigh. “Not yet,” you said, smiling, and he laughed, a rough, desperate sound.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you up, flipping you onto your back. He settled between your legs, his cock brushing your entrance, his eyes searching yours. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice soft, and you nodded, your heart swelling.

“I need you,” you said, and he kissed you, deep and slow, as he pushed inside you. You gasped, the stretch delicious, his cock filling you perfectly. He moved slowly at first, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one pulling a moan from your lips. “Yoongi,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his back.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, his voice low, his lips brushing your ear. “I’m right here.” His pace quickened, his hips snapping, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. He fucked you with a desperation that spoke of weeks apart, of love and longing, of apologies unspoken. “You’re mine,” he growled, his hand slipping between you, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. “My baby. My everything.”

You cried out, your body tightening, pleasure building to a crescendo. “I love you,” you gasped, tears spilling down your cheeks, not from pain but from the overwhelming love, the pleasure mingling with the ache of reconciliation. “I’m sorry, Yoongi. I didn’t mean those things.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking, his thrusts growing erratic. “I’m sorry too, baby. I love you so much.” You came undone together, your cries mingling, your bodies trembling as pleasure and emotion crashed over you. He fucked you through it, his movements slowing, his lips kissing away your tears.

Yoongi held you close after, his arms tight around you, his heart beating against yours. “I love you,” he whispered, over and over, like a mantra, his lips pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. You clung to him, your tears drying, your apologies spilling out.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t mean it, Yoongi. I was just so hurt.”

“I know, baby,” he said, his hand stroking your hair. “I hurt you, and I’m so sorry. I’ll never let it get that bad again. You’re my priority, always.”

He pulled away only to run a warm bath, the bathroom filling with the scent of lavender from the bath oil he added. He carried you to the tub, settling in behind you, his arms encircling you as he washed your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “Let me take care of you.”

He washed your body with care, his hands gentle, his touch a silent apology. He kissed your shoulder, your neck, whispering soft words of love. “You’re so precious to me,” he said. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m never letting you go.”

When the water cooled, he dried you off, wrapping you in his oversized hoodie, the scent of him enveloping you. He carried you back to bed, tucking you against his side, his hand stroking your back. “Sleep, baby,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m right here.”

You fell asleep in his arms, the weight of the fight lifting, replaced by the certainty of his love. He stayed awake, watching you, his fingers tracing your features, his heart full.

The weeks following your reconciliation with Yoongi were a testament to the resilience of your love, a delicate yet powerful rebirth that transformed your relationship into something even stronger. Yoongi, true to his promise, restructured his life to place you at its center, his actions a living apology for the distance that had once threatened to tear you apart. He scaled back his studio hours, delegating tasks to junior producers and setting firm boundaries with clients. “No more late nights unless it’s with you,” he’d said one morning, his voice low and resolute, as he kissed your knuckles across the breakfast table. His dark eyes held yours, unwavering, his thumb lingering on your hand, tracing the curve of your fingers, and the sincerity in his gaze sparked a warmth in your chest that felt like coming home.

Your apartment, once a silent battlefield of unspoken hurts, was reborn as a sanctuary of shared moments. Evenings became sacred, filled with rituals that wove your lives back together. Yoongi took up cooking, his slim fingers deftly chopping vegetables, his brow furrowed in concentration as he perfected dishes like spicy kimchi jjigae or delicate japchae. “Gotta keep my baby fed,” he’d say, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, though his eyes glowed with quiet pride when you hummed in delight at the first bite. You’d perch at the kitchen counter, sketching him as he worked, your pencil capturing the way his dark hair fell into his eyes, the subtle intensity of his focus, the faint scar on his eyebrow that you loved to trace. He’d catch you staring, leaning over to steal a kiss, his lips warm and tasting faintly of garlic, murmuring, “You’re distracting me, baby,” against your mouth.

Weekends were your haven, a time to rediscover each other. Yoongi insisted on reclaiming the countryside cabin trip you’d missed, booking a long weekend in a secluded retreat nestled among pine trees and rolling hills. The drive there was a journey of reconnection, his hand resting possessively on your thigh as he drove, his fingers occasionally squeezing gently, a silent reminder of his presence. A playlist of your favorite songs filled the car—soft R&B, soulful jazz, and a few of his own tracks—and you sang along, off-key and unapologetic, your voice cracking on the high notes. Yoongi laughed, a bright, gummy smile that made your heart ache with joy. “You’re terrible,” he teased, but his fingers tightened on your thigh, his eyes soft with adoration as he glanced at you, the sunlight catching the sharp planes of his face.

At the cabin, time seemed to slow, each moment a brushstroke on the canvas of your renewed love. Mornings were spent wrapped in blankets on the porch, sipping coffee as the mist curled over the hills, Yoongi’s arm around you, his chin resting on your head. His warmth enveloped you, the faint scent of his cologne—sandalwood and cedar—mingling with the crisp air. “This is what I want,” he said one morning, his voice low, almost reverent, his lips brushing your temple. “You, me, this quiet. I was an idiot to forget it.” You turned to kiss him, your lips lingering, the heat of his breath chasing away the morning chill, his hand slipping under your sweater to rest against the small of your back, grounding you in his love.

Afternoons were for exploration, hand in hand, through forest trails, your laughter echoing as you chased each other through the trees, pine needles crunching underfoot. He’d catch you, spinning you around, his kisses playful but possessive, his hands firm on your hips. “Got you, baby,” he’d murmur, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, his lips finding the sensitive spot below your ear. Nights were intimate, a blend of passion and tenderness, the cabin’s wooden walls a cocoon for your love.

One such night, under the soft glow of a lantern, Yoongi’s touch became a language of its own, speaking of longing and devotion. You were curled up by the fireplace, the crackling flames casting shadows across the room, when he pulled you into his lap, his hands slipping under your sweater, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine. “You’re my home, baby,” he whispered, his lips grazing your neck, his voice thick with emotion. The air between you thickened, charged with a need that had been simmering since your reconciliation.

You turned to face him, straddling his thighs, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs brushing the sharp line of his jaw. His eyes were dark, heavy with desire, but softened by love, the firelight dancing in their depths. “I want you,” you said, your voice husky, and he groaned softly, his hands tightening on your hips. “You have me,” he replied, his lips crashing into yours, the kiss deep and hungry, tasting of coffee and unspoken promises.

Your fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing the lean planes of his chest, the faint scars from old injuries that you’d memorized with your lips. He undressed you with reverence, his hands trembling slightly as he peeled away your sweater, your jeans, until you were bare before him, the firelight painting your skin in warm hues. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hands roaming your body, his touch both possessive and tender, as if he were afraid you might vanish.

You pushed him back onto the plush rug, the heat of the fire warming your skin as you climbed over him, your hands splaying across his chest. His cock was hard, straining against his sweatpants, and you tugged them down, freeing him. He was thick, the tip glistening with need, and you felt a rush of heat between your thighs. “Baby,” he breathed, his hands gripping your hips as you positioned yourself above him, your pussy hovering over his length. “Ride me,” he said, his voice a low command, his eyes locked on yours, dark with lust and love.

You sank onto him slowly, gasping as his cock stretched you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious burn that made your breath hitch, your hands bracing against his chest. Yoongi groaned, his head falling back, his lips parting as he felt you envelop him. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he said, his voice rough, his hands guiding your hips as you began to move.

You rode him with a rhythm that was both desperate and deliberate, your hips rolling, your pussy clenching around him with every thrust. His cock hit deep, brushing that spot inside you that made your toes curl, sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Yoongi’s hands roamed your body, one sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple, the other gripping your ass, urging you faster. “That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “Take what you need. You’re mine.”

You moaned, your head tipping back, your hair spilling down your back as you moved, the firelight catching the sweat on your skin. “Yoongi,” you gasped, your nails digging into his chest, leaving faint red marks. He hissed, his hips bucking up to meet your thrusts, driving himself deeper. “Fuck, say my name again,” he said, his voice raw, his eyes burning into yours.

“Yoongi,” you whimpered, your movements growing erratic, pleasure building like a storm inside you. He sat up suddenly, his arms wrapping around you, his lips finding your nipple, sucking hard as he thrust up into you. The sensation was electric, your body trembling, your pussy fluttering around his cock. “I love you,” you cried, tears pricking your eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming connection, the love that pulsed between you.

“I love you too, baby,” he said, his voice breaking, his lips crashing into yours as he fucked you harder, his cock relentless, his hands anchoring you to him. ��You’re everything. My fucking everything.” The words were a vow, each thrust a promise, and you felt yourself spiraling, your orgasm cresting.

“Yoongi, I’m—I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your body tightening, your pussy clenching around him. “Come for me, baby,” he growled, his fingers slipping between you, finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The pleasure was blinding, a wave that crashed over you, your cries filling the room as you came, your body shuddering, your pussy pulsing around his cock. Yoongi groaned, his thrusts growing erratic, and he followed you, his cock throbbing as he spilled inside you, his hands gripping you tightly, his lips murmuring your name like a prayer.

You collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat, the fire’s warmth enveloping you. He held you close, his hands stroking your back, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your forehead. “My baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m never letting you go again.”

Back in Seoul, Yoongi’s commitment deepened. He started leaving his office door open, inviting you into his creative world. One night, he called you in, his voice tinged with excitement. “Listen to this,” he said, playing a new track, a soulful melody of soft piano and subtle beats. You closed your eyes, the music painting deep blues and warm golds in your mind. When you opened them, he was watching you, his expression vulnerable. “It’s for you,” he said. “I wrote it thinking of you, of us.” You cried, pulling him into a kiss, your heart swelling with the knowledge that you were his muse, his anchor.

He attended your freelance showcases, his presence a quiet pillar of support. At one event, as you nervously presented your album cover designs, he stood in the back, his eyes fixed on you, a proud smile softening his stoic face. Afterward, he pulled you aside, his hands cupping your face. “You’re incredible, baby,” he said, his voice low, meant only for you. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” His kiss was fierce, possessive, and you felt invincible with him by your side.

Yoongi’s cold, reserved demeanor remained for the world, but with you, he was transformed. At industry events, his hand rested on your lower back, a silent claim. If someone lingered too long in conversation with you, his eyes darkened, his voice cutting like ice. But alone, he softened, his fingers brushing your hair, his lips finding yours. “You’re mine,” he’d whisper, not with jealousy but with a love so deep it was etched into his soul.

Your dynamic as dominant and submissive deepened, rooted in trust and rediscovered intimacy. In the bedroom, Yoongi’s commands were firm but tender, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. “On your knees, baby,” he’d say, and you’d obey, your body humming, knowing he’d care for you completely. He’d check in, his eyes searching yours—“You good, baby?”—and your nods spurred him on, his touch both commanding and reverent. Outside the bedroom, his dominance was subtler: guiding you through crowds, his hand firm on your wrist; tilting your chin to meet his gaze when you were nervous, murmuring, “You’ve got this, baby.”

One memorable night, Yoongi surprised you with a rooftop dinner at home, the city skyline glittering below. He’d strung fairy lights across the balcony, a small table set with candles and your favorite foods—bulgogi, tteokbokki, a mango tart he’d attempted to bake himself, slightly lopsided but made with love. He played a soft jazz record, the saxophone weaving through the night air, and pulled you into a slow dance, his arms around you, his lips brushing your temple. “I almost lost you,” he said, his voice barely audible, his hands tightening on your waist. “I’ll never let that happen again.” You cried, not from pain but from the certainty of his love, and he kissed you deeply, the city fading until it was just you and him.

Your relationship wasn’t perfect—no love ever is—but it was stronger for its trials. The memory of your fight lingered, a reminder of love’s fragility, but also of how fiercely you’d both fight to protect it. Yoongi’s love was your constant, his presence your home. He’d wake you with soft kisses, his voice rough with sleep as he murmured, “Morning, baby.” He’d fall asleep with you in his arms, his breath warm against your neck, his whispered “I love you” the last thing you heard.

Years later, you’d look back on this time—the pain, the reconciliation, the rebirth—and know it was the moment your love became unbreakable. Yoongi was your muse, your protector, your heart, and you were his baby, his everything. Together, you faced the world, hand in hand, your love a melody that would never fade.

[httpknjoon]

love is... on tour | myg; masterlist

synopsis | Tell everyone you know, Love Is... On Tour! Popstar!YN is set to start her sophomore world tour with her new hit songs, sparkly outfits, and talented live band. There are 352 days of this tour, which means 352 days of YN and her new bassist, Yoongi getting on each other's skin in every way possible.

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | enemies to lovers

note | for requests, feel free to send a song from the playlist and i’ll make a drabble out of it!

main masterlist | spotify playlist | requests are closed

FIRST LEG: ACROSS THE US

DAY 32: mister cute guy with the white jacket

that one time popstar yn surprised everyone by inviting her live band’s bass guitarist with her on stage for a performance.

DAY 53: have you ever tried this one?

that time popstar!yn and bassist!yoongi had a very intense staring contest throughout the whole concert.

DAY 60: from your point of view

that time bassist!yoongi thinks popstar!yn is not that versatile when performing her songs. (alternative: that time bassist!yoongi made popstar!yn cry— unintentionally!)

DAY 64: an awful good girl

 that time in december of their tour where popstar!yn sang while sitting on santa’s lap. (but who’s santa anyway?)

cont.: santa, tell me that time in december when popstar!yn and bassist!yoongi agreed to do something.

DAY 67: what do the lonely do at christmas

that time when popstar!yn found herself on bassist!yoongi's bed on a cold December morning.

THE LATE LATE SHOW TAKEOVER

that time in december where popstar!yn takes over the late, late show along with her band to celebrate her ep’s release. (alternative plot: that time yn interviewed her bassist, yoongi live)

AFTERPARTY: quite an impression

 that time when the afterparty left quite an impression on the not-so-friendly relationship between the popstar and her bassist.

cont.: bad idea that time where popstar finds herself in a strange situation with her bassist right after the afterparty.

SECOND LEG: ACROSS ASIA & AUSTRALIA

PICKUP THE PACE

that time when the tour resumes after a month-long holiday break and you and yoongi are not really talking.

DAY 103: say goodnight and go

that time when everyone seemed to be doing something on valentine’s day and the popstar and her bassist have all the time with their single asses.

THIRD LEG: EUROPEAN TOUR

DAY 283: the boy is mine

that time when rumors about bassist!yoongi went around that popstar!yn cannot really stop herself from addressing it.

posting more soon

LATEST POST HERE

NEWS ARTICLES, TWEETS, etc ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

For One Night Only! Pop Star YN to Host The Late, Late Show

#LoveIsOnItalia tweets and IG stories

RELATED TAGS ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

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SERIES TAGLIST (OPEN)

@busanbby-jjk @jimingirl95 @treacherqus @jajabro @marnz1990 @ktownshizzle @notarshia @m00njinnie @thelilbutifulthings @tarahardcore @livisdoingfine @jungshaking @eridanus-lynx @enthralled-bandit @goodnight-n-go-home @ronyiboniyy @jimeg629 @lveegsoi @madussthoughts @jalexad @ryryvna @kiki-zb @kam9404 @rtyuy1346

[aelinad]

The Missing Track - Min Yoongi One-Shot

Pairing: !Idol Yoongi x ! producer f. reader

Genre: explicit romance (smut) !! MINORS DNI !! 🔞

Word count: ~ 30k

Summary: Suga of BTS is on the edge, racing against the clock to finish his solo album. With just three songs left to complete and a looming deadline, he's struggling to find inspiration. In a last-minute move, his company pairs him with the highly secretive Producer K, a renowned but elusive figure in the music industry. Everyone assumes Producer K is a male, but when Suga meets the mysterious producer, he's shocked to discover that K is actually a talented and confident woman. As they collaborate, the line between professional and personal begins to blur. Their chemistry is undeniable, but with a ticking clock and the pressure to deliver, can they finish the album on time? Or will their growing connection derail everything they've worked for? Secrets, passion, and music. Can Suga keep his focus, or will Producer K. change everything?

!! Warnings !!: vaginal sex, protected sex, oral sex, slow burn, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, jealousy

A/N: I miss these two already!! 🥺 This story was highly influenced by me having Yoongi's SDL and Reed Wonder's The machine on repeat. Hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it! Let me know your thoughts 💕.

Love the story? ☕ Support me on Ko-fi! 💕

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soft hum of equipment filled the studio, punctuated by the click-clack of Yoongi's keyboard. His desk was a mess of coffee cups, scribbled notes, and sheet music—proof of hours spent chasing inspiration that eluded him.

"Hyung," a staff member, Jihoon, said cautiously, standing near the doorway. "I think we need to talk about your album. Specifically, the last tracks you’re stuck on."

Yoongi swivelled his chair, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm not stuck," he said sharply. "I just need time."

"You have three months before the release date," Jihoon reminded him. "And right now, three of the songs don’t have melodies. You’ve been staring at the lyrics for weeks."

Yoongi sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I’m working on it."

Jihoon hesitated, holding back a smirk. "The team suggested bringing in another producer."

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t need help. This is my album. I’ve handled everything myself before, haven’t I?"

"This time, we’re short on time," Jihoon countered. "And we’re talking about Prod. K. He’s incredible! The guy with the minimalist beats and genre-blending compositions. Even you’ve praised his work."

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I praised the music, not the person. And I don’t work with strangers, especially ones I’ve never even met."

"It’s non-negotiable, hyung." Jihoon sighed. "The higher-ups already agreed. We’re bringing him in to collaborate."

"Bringing him in?" Yoongi repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I’ve never even seen his face. For all I know, he could be some arrogant newbie."

Jihoon smirked, his gaze flickering with amusement Yoongi didn’t appreciate. "Lets not judge, just wait until you meet him."

Yoongi grumbled, turning back to his monitor. "Fine. But don’t expect me to make this easy for him. And when he leaves because I’m too ‘difficult,’ you can tell the higher-ups they were wrong."

~~ Y/N POV ~~ "Are you out of your mind?!" I hissed, pacing the small office where my team had dropped the bombshell of the century. "To collaborate with Suga of BTS in person? Sure, it’s an honor, but that’s a no from me. If my identity gets leaked, the fact that I’m a woman, working with him in some tiny studio, any sasaeng will have me on their hit list before I even step out the door."

My manager, Minji, leaned back in her chair, arms crossed but eyes pleading. "Y/N, listen. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. His songs are streamed millions of times. You can’t just brush this off."

"I’m not brushing it off," I shot back. "I respect his work, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not willing to risk it. There are plenty of artists who would kill to have me on their projects just by sending them my demo, and they’re happy to communicate with me online without ever knowing who I am. Why him? Why now? Why like this?"

Minji sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It’s not just about you. The label needs this. We’re in a tight spot financially, and this contract is massive. Do you know how much they’re offering?"

I didn’t want to hear the number. Money had never been my motivator, but the way Minji’s face softened told me it was enough to make a difference, not just for me but for my entire team. I groaned, dropping into a chair and crossing my arms. "Why can’t anyone hear my opinion? I don’t want to do this. I’m not just some faceless entity, you know."

"You’re not," Minji said gently. "But you also know how much this could elevate your career. Three songs, Y/N. That’s all they’re asking for. Just three."

Her words echoed in my head, the weight of them pulling me in two directions. Logic screamed to take the job, but fear—fear of exposure, of judgment—held me back.

"Fine," I said finally, hating how small my voice sounded. "I’ll think about it."

*** That night, I found myself on an unintentional deep dive into Min Yoongi’s a.k.a SUGA a.k.a AGUST D world. It started innocently enough: a quick search to refresh my memory of his discography. But then one song led to another, and another, until I was buried in hours of music he’d produced, lyrics he’d written, and performances that made me forget why I was so hesitant in the first place. Scrolling through fan edits and live clips, I couldn’t help but be charmed. There was a reason people adored him, not just for his talent, but for the quiet charisma that seeped through the screen. His easy confidence, the way he handled himself on stage and in interviews, was magnetic.

"Focus," I muttered to myself, shaking off the distraction. But the deeper I went into his work, the harder it was to ignore his genius.

His music was haunting, intricate, and raw. The kind of art that pulled you into someone’s soul, no matter how much they tried to hide. I couldn’t help but wonder how someone with this much expertise got stuck?

By the time dawn broke, I called Minji. "Minji," I said the moment she answered, her voice still groggy. "I’ll do it."

"Wait, what? You’re serious?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes, but on one condition."

"Name it."

"No one finds out who I am. If my identity leaks, I’m out."

Minji exhaled sharply. "We’ll make sure of it. I’ll talk to the higher-ups and confirm everything. Thank you, Y/N. This is the right decision."

I wasn’t sure if it was the right decision, but it was the one I’d made. The next couple of days blurred into a whirlwind of paperwork. Contracts, NDAs, and endless signatures filled my time, the reality of the collaboration sinking in more and more with each passing document. Ironically, a small part of me hoped that Min Yoongi would refuse to sign the NDA. Maybe he’d see the clause about not sharing my identity, find it too ridiculous, and decide the collaboration wasn’t worth it.

But no.

He signed it.

When Minji told me, I stared at her like she’d grown a second head. "He signed it?"

"Yeah," she said, looking just as surprised. "No arguments, no complaints. Honestly, I thought he’d push back, but he didn’t."

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a long breath. "This guy… He’s full of surprises."

"Don’t get your hopes up," Minji warned. "Just because he signed doesn’t mean this will be smooth sailing."

"I know," I muttered. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder. How different was the man behind the screen, the one whose music I’d admired for a while, from the person I was about to meet?

*** A few days later, everything was finalized. Minji and I were contacted by Jihoon, one of the team members who worked closely with Suga.

"He’s coming to pick us up personally?" I asked Minji, eyebrows raised as I adjusted my headphones around my neck.

"Apparently," Minji replied, glancing at her phone. "Guess he wants to make sure we actually show up."

When Jihoon arrived, he was younger than I expected, his energy warm and casual. He greeted Minji with a polite bow and a bright smile, then turned to me. For a moment, his expression faltered, his eyes darting behind me like he was waiting for someone else to appear.

"Uh… Hi," he said, looking between Minji and me. "You’re both here for Suga, right?"

"Yes," Minji answered smoothly. "This is K." She gestured toward me.

Jihoon blinked, confusion written all over his face. "Wait… You’re Producer K?"

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "That’s me."

"You’re kidding," he said, then immediately looked apologetic. "I mean, sorry, I just—uh—"

"You were expecting someone else?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Kind of, yeah," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "No offense, but I thought you’d be, you know…"

"A guy," I finished for him, crossing my arms.

He laughed awkwardly. "Well, yeah. I mean, your music has this… vibe. It’s not what I’d expect from—" He cut himself off again, realizing he wasn’t helping.

"From a woman?" I challenged, though there was no malice in my tone.

"Not what I meant!" Jihoon exclaimed, waving his hands. "It’s just…forget it. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to offend you."

Minji chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. "Don’t worry. She gets that a lot."

I didn’t hold it against him. The entire point of my stage name was to avoid this kind of reaction, but moments like these reminded me why I kept my identity under wraps. Jihoon composed himself quickly and gestured toward the sleek black van parked nearby. "Anyway, let’s get going. Suga’s waiting for us at HYBE."

*** The drive to HYBE was surprisingly pleasant. Jihoon was chatty, making an effort to ease the awkwardness of our initial interaction.

"So," he began, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror, "I’m curious. How long have you been producing?"

"About six years," I replied.

"Wow, and you’re already working with Suga," he said, genuinely impressed. "That’s not something just anyone gets to do."

"I’m aware," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "It’s a privilege."

He nodded. "Have you been a fan of his music for a while?"

I hesitated. "I respect his work. He’s incredibly talented."

Jihoon grinned knowingly. "You’re downplaying it, huh? That’s fine. Most people get nervous meeting him for the first time. Don’t worry, he’s actually a lot nicer than people think."

Minji let out a quiet laugh beside me. "I don’t think nervousness is the issue here."

Jihoon glanced between us, confused but wisely decided not to press further.

*** Pulling up to HYBE’s towering building was intimidating, to say the least. I’d seen pictures online, of course, but being there in person was a different experience.

"Here we are," Jihoon announced as he parked the van.

As we stepped out, I adjusted my hoodie, making sure it covered my face as much as possible. Even with the NDA in place, I couldn’t shake the paranoia of being recognized. Jihoon led us through the back entrance, avoiding the main lobby and elevators filled with staff and trainees. "We’re heading straight to the studio," he explained. "He’s already there."

The walk felt longer than it probably was, my heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. When we finally reached the studio, Jihoon paused at the door, turning to us.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As I’ll ever be," I replied, tightening my grip on my laptop case.

He opened the door, and there he was, Min Yoongi, sitting in front of a massive console, his back to us.

He turned at the sound of the door, his expression neutral as he stood to greet us. His gaze swept over Minji first, then landed on me. For a moment, he said nothing, his sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe. Then he frowned, looking at Jihoon.

"This is K?" he asked, his tone sceptical.

Jihoon winced. "Uh, yeah. This is K."

Yoongi’s frown deepened as he crossed his arms. "You’re joking, right?"

I stepped forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "Last time I checked, I’m not a joke."

His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. "You’re not what I expected."

"Good," I said, setting my laptop on the table. "Let’s get started." Yoongi smirked, leaning against the edge of the console, arms crossed. His sharp gaze never left me as he added, "I have to say, your previous work didn’t exactly… scream ‘feminine touch.’ If anything, I thought you’d walk in here with a beard and flannel shirt."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

Jihoon coughed awkwardly, stepping back as if distancing himself from Yoongi’s comment. Minji shot him a warning look, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to laugh.

Yoongi raised a hand, his smirk widening. "No offense. I’m just saying your music has this raw, almost aggressive energy. It’s impressive. I just didn’t picture..." He motioned vaguely toward me. "...this."

Minji quickly interjected, "Alright, we’ll leave you two to it. Jihoon and I have some things to take care of."

"Wait—" I started, but Minji grabbed Jihoon by the sleeve and dragged him toward the door.

"You’ll be fine," she called over her shoulder. "Just... play nice, both of you."

The door shut with a soft click, and I was left staring at Yoongi, who looked far too amused for my liking.

"Let me guess," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You think this whole thing is a waste of time, right? That I’m here because someone in your company thought you needed ‘help.’"

He shrugged, moving to his chair and spinning it lazily before sitting down. "Help isn’t the word I’d use. But yeah, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this arrangement."

"Trust me," I said flatly, "neither was I."

That earned a low chuckle from him. "At least we’re on the same page."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my irritation in check. I’d dealt with condescending colleagues before, but Yoongi’s nonchalant attitude was already grating on my nerves. How different was he from the Yoongi I’d seen in interviews or fan videos? This guy wasn’t the soft-spoken, thoughtful artist fans adored. He was sharp, blunt, and entirely too smug.

"Let’s just get to work," I said, pulling out my laptop and external drive. "You have lyrics, right? Show me what you’ve got."

Yoongi grabbed a notebook from the desk and slid it across the table. "Here. Three tracks I’m stuck on. The lyrics are solid, but I can’t find the right sound to match them."

I flipped through the pages, skimming the lines. His handwriting was neat but compact, and the lyrics were, as expected, incredible. Emotionally raw, introspective, and layered with meaning. They demanded a melody that could do them justice.

"What’s the vibe you’re going for?" I asked, keeping my tone professional.

Yoongi tapped his fingers on the desk, his expression thoughtful. "Something atmospheric. A mix of minimalistic and haunting, but with enough depth to make it feel powerful. Think piano-driven but layered with electronic textures. I want it to hit hard emotionally but not overwhelm the lyrics."

I nodded, already forming ideas in my head. "Okay, let’s try something."

Opening my laptop, I connected it to the studio’s system and pulled up my digital audio workstation. I started layering a simple chord progression on the piano, experimenting with minor chords to create the moody tone he wanted. Yoongi watched silently for a moment before leaning forward. "No, that’s too soft. It needs more tension."

I adjusted the progression, adding a dissonant note to the second chord. "Better?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Now bring in a low synth pad to fill it out."

I worked quickly, adding the synth and tweaking the sound to give it a subtle pulse. The room filled with the beginnings of a melody, and for a moment, the tension between us eased as we both focused on the music.

"Not bad," Yoongi muttered, almost to himself. "But it still feels... flat."

I bit back a retort, reminding myself that this was his music. "What do you suggest?"

He leaned back, closing his eyes as he listened. "The transition between the first and second chords needs more weight. Maybe a reversed sample or a swell to build anticipation."

I nodded, grabbing a sample from my library and reversing it. After a few adjustments, I played it back. The swell added a subtle but impactful build to the transition.

Yoongi opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "That’s better."

"Glad I could meet your standards," I said dryly.

He chuckled again, the sound low and almost teasing. "Relax. I’m not here to make this harder than it has to be."

"Could’ve fooled me," I muttered under my breath, earning another amused glance from him.

Despite his initial scepticism, Yoongi was a perfectionist, and that part of him was something I could respect. He pushed for the smallest details, catching nuances that most producers might overlook. But he also didn’t hold back his opinions, which made working with him both frustrating and oddly invigorating.

As the hours passed, we fell into a rhythm. He’d point out what wasn’t working, I’d offer a solution, and we’d tweak it until we found something we both liked. By the time we wrapped up for the day, we’d made significant progress on the first track. The rough demo already had a haunting, melancholic energy that complemented his lyrics perfectly. Yoongi leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "Not bad for our first day."

"Let’s hope tomorrow’s just as productive," I said, saving the project file.

He smirked, standing up and grabbing his notebook. "We’ll see. You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be."

"Gee, thanks," I said, rolling my eyes. "You’re a real charmer."

"Only when I want to be," he shot back, heading for the door.

As he left, I let out a long breath, leaning back in my chair. Working with him was exhausting, but I couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling under my frustration. For all his arrogance, Yoongi was undeniably talented, and I found myself looking forward to the challenge of working with him. *** The next morning, Yoongi and I sat in the studio reviewing the progress from the day before. The demo played softly in the background, and while it sounded promising, there were a few sections that felt off.

"We need to rework this transition," Yoongi said, pointing at the waveform on the screen. "It’s too abrupt. It needs more build-up."

I nodded, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Agreed. Maybe adding a soft vocal sample or layering the synth more would smooth it out."

"Try it," he said, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.

As I adjusted the track, Yoongi’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, frowned, and stood up. "I need to take this. Keep working. I’ll be back."

He left the room without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. I sighed and refocused on the track, tweaking the layers as the melody slowly started to evolve. But after about twenty minutes, I decided to take a break. My coffee from earlier had caught up with me, and I needed to find the bathroom.

Stepping into the hallway, I started down the corridor when I heard Yoongi’s voice from around the corner. I paused, not wanting to interrupt, but something about his tone made me linger.

"...So yeah, Jihoon, I didn’t know she was a girl," he was saying.

I froze, my pulse quickening.

"I mean, if I’d known that was the case, maybe I would’ve pushed back harder at the beginning. Told them I didn’t need the help. She’s okay and talented, sure, but there are other producers out there who could’ve done this just as well."

My stomach twisted. Was that really what he thought of me? I took a step back, the faint creak of my shoe on the floor startling me. Afraid he might notice, I turned and quickly walked the other way, heading toward the nearest staircase to find another bathroom. I didn’t want to hear anything else.

After finally finding a bathroom and giving myself a moment to cool down, I headed back to the studio. I was determined not to let Yoongi know I’d overheard him, but my annoyance simmered beneath the surface. When I stepped back into the room, he was already there, seated casually at the console like he hadn’t just dismissed my abilities a few minutes ago.

"Done with your break?" he asked, not looking up as he scrolled through the project file.

"Yeah," I replied shortly, taking my seat across from him.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at me briefly. "You okay? You sound... off."

"Just tired," I said, forcing a neutral tone.

He didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press the issue. "Alright. Let’s pick up where we left off."

We dove back into the work, but my responses to his suggestions were clipped.

"That transition is too smooth," he said at one point. "It needs more contrast."

"Fine," I replied curtly, adjusting the settings without looking at him.

A few minutes later, he frowned at another section. "This part feels like it’s missing something. Maybe we should—"

"Add another layer?" I interrupted. "I know. Already on it."

Yoongi blinked at me, surprised by my tone. "What’s with the attitude?"

"Nothing," I said quickly, not meeting his gaze.

"Doesn’t seem like nothing," he said, leaning back in his chair. "If you’ve got something to say, just say it."

I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the mouse. "I don’t have anything to say, Yoongi. Let’s just get this done, okay?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought he might push further. But then he shrugged, turning back to the monitor. "Whatever you say."

The tension in the room was palpable, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

"Look," he said after a long silence, his voice softer but still firm, "if something’s bothering you, it’s better to air it out now. We’re supposed to be a team, remember?"

I laughed humourlessly. "Team? Right."

Yoongi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, what did I do? You were fine this morning, and now you’re acting like I kicked your dog."

I hesitated, torn between calling him out and keeping what I’d heard to myself. In the end, I shook my head. "It’s nothing. Let’s just focus on the music."

He didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop, his focus returning to the track. For the rest of the session, I kept my replies short, my tone professional but distant. If he noticed, he didn’t comment again. But as I left the studio that evening, I couldn’t shake the sting of his words. He might think I was talented, but apparently, that wasn’t enough.

*** Sunday was a rare blessing, my day off, a chance to breathe away from the suffocating confines of the studio and Min Yoongi. The contract was clear: three months to collaborate on three tracks for his upcoming album. That deadline loomed over every interaction, and yet, the past week had felt like a year.

I sat across from Minji at our favourite café, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint hum of chatter around us. She was nursing her caramel latte, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Okay, spill," she said, leaning forward. "How’s it going with Yoongi? Are you two getting along?"

I scoffed, stirring my drink with unnecessary aggression. "Getting along? Not even close. He’s impossible."

Minji raised an eyebrow. "Impossible how? Isn’t he just... quiet and focused?"

"Quiet? Sure. Focused? Definitely. But it’s like working with a brick wall that also has an opinion on everything. He’s a perfectionist to the point where it’s unbearable. We made progress on a track, a full week’s worth of progress, and on Friday, he decided he didn’t like it and scrapped the whole thing. We’re starting from scratch tomorrow."

Her eyes widened. "He threw it all away? After a week? Was it really that bad?"

I shook my head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, it wasn’t bad. It was good, really good, actually. But it wasn’t perfect by his standards. He nit-picks every little thing, and don’t even get me started on his work ethic. The man doesn’t stop. I get it, he���s Yoongi, he’s supposed to be this genius producer or whatever. But does he have to be so infuriating?"

Minji smiled sympathetically, sipping her latte. "Well, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy. He’s got a reputation for a reason. But isn’t it a good challenge? You’re working with one of the best."

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. "I thought it would be different, you know? I had this idea of him in my head. This brilliant, creative artist who would respect me as a collaborator. Instead, he’s... cold, demanding, and so stubborn."

Minji chuckled. "Sounds like he’s met his match."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Oh, please. If he’s met his match, he doesn’t realize it. He probably just sees me as another producer he has to tolerate."

"That’s not true," Minji said, shaking her head. "You’re talented, Y/N. He’ll see it eventually."

I sighed, taking a long sip of my coffee. "I hope so, because right now, it feels like we’re just butting heads. He questions everything I do. And don’t even get me started on his attitude. He’s so... smug sometimes."

"Smug how?"

"Like—ugh!" I gestured vaguely, trying to find the words. "It’s the way he looks at me, like he’s constantly judging whether I’m good enough to be there. He doesn’t say it outright, but I can tell he’s thinking it. And it drives me insane."

Minji laughed, leaning back in her chair. "You’ve got it bad, huh?"

"Bad?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Bad as in annoyed? Yes. Bad as in anything else? Absolutely not."

"Sure," she said, her tone teasing.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "You’re impossible."

Minji grinned, nudging my arm. "You know, maybe this is good for you. A little friction can spark creativity. And who knows? Maybe he’s just testing you."

"Testing me?" I repeated, giving her a sceptical look.

"Yeah. Like, seeing how far you’re willing to push yourself. Maybe he’s trying to figure you out."

"Or maybe he’s just a workaholic control freak," I muttered.

Minji laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. Point taken. But don’t let him get under your skin too much. You’ve got this, Y/N. And who knows? By the end of three months, maybe you’ll even like him."

I snorted. "Not a chance."

But as much as I hated to admit it, her words stuck with me.

*** The following week was no easier than the first. Yoongi and I worked tirelessly in the studio, bouncing ideas off each other, experimenting with melodies, and layering sounds. For every step forward, there seemed to be two steps back.

"This bassline isn’t strong enough," Yoongi said on Tuesday, frowning at the speakers.

"I think it works," I argued. "It’s subtle, but it adds depth to the track."

"Subtle isn’t what we’re going for," he countered.

"And what are we going for, exactly?" I asked, crossing my arms.

He gave me a look, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smirk. "Something better than this."

I wanted to throw my notebook at him.

By Wednesday, we’d managed to salvage some of the earlier work, only for Yoongi to suggest another round of revisions.

"You’re kidding," I said, staring at him.

"Do I look like I’m kidding?" he replied, completely serious.

"Do you ever smile?" I shot back.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

The tension between us was constant, a tug-of-war where neither of us was willing to back down. And yet, beneath the frustration, there was a strange kind of rhythm to our interactions. As much as I disliked him, I couldn’t deny that he was brilliant. Watching him work was like witnessing a master at his craft, every decision precise, every movement deliberate. But that didn’t mean I liked him. And I certainly wasn’t going to let him know just how much I respected his talent.

*** The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of the studio, casting soft golden stripes across the equipment. I was at the workstation, tweaking some samples on my laptop while Yoongi stepped out for a meeting, or whatever it was he disappeared to.

The door opened suddenly, and I assumed it was him coming back. "Did you finally decide to—"

I froze mid-sentence as someone entirely different walked in. The man was tall, with a warm smile and an unmistakable energy that lit up the room. His eyes scanned the studio until they landed on me, his confusion immediately evident.

"Uh… hi?" he said, his smile faltering slightly. "I’m looking for Yoongi. Did I walk into the wrong room? I am pretty sure this is the right one though..." he started scratching the top of his head, clearly confused.

"No, this is the right place," I replied, standing awkwardly. "He just stepped out for a bit."

His eyebrows shot up, and he pointed at me with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "Wait—who are you? Why is there… a girl in here?"

I frowned, crossing my arms. "What’s that supposed to mean? Girls aren’t allowed in studios now?"

His hands shot up defensively, and he chuckled nervously. "No, no! That’s not what I meant! It’s just… Yoongi didn’t mention working with someone new today. And you’re clearly not Jihoon."

"Clearly," I said dryly.

He laughed again, but this time it sounded more genuine. "Okay, let me start over. I’m Hoseok, but you probably know me as J-Hope."

Ah, then it clicked , of course it was J-Hope. His sunny demeanour didn’t match the grumpy energy Yoongi radiated, though, which was a refreshing change.

"Nice to meet you," I said, offering a polite nod. "I’m Y/N."

Hoseok’s expression didn’t change for a moment as if he were trying to process something. Then he grinned, leaning slightly closer like he’d just discovered something exciting.

"Wait a second," he said, his tone playfully suspicious. "I’m not even supposed to be here, you know. I heard Yoongi was working with the producer K who doesn’t even disclose their identity, but I just couldn’t resist. I love the music that K has done, so I had to come meet him. Will sign an NDA and everything."

I felt a twinge of amusement at his enthusiasm but kept my expression neutral. Something told me it was okay for him to know. "Well, congratulations. You just met… him."

Hoseok blinked, and then his jaw dropped dramatically as he pointed at me. "No way!"

"Way," I said, trying not to laugh.

His hand flew to his chest as if he were clutching imaginary pearls. "That’s why Yoongi didn’t even say anything when I begged for details! He just said, ‘There’s an NDA in place’ and refused to elaborate."

"Pretty much," I replied with a shrug.

Hoseok stared at me for a beat longer before a wide grin spread across his face. "You’re good. Like, really good. I’ve been following your work, but I never would’ve guessed you were… Well, you!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Is that a compliment or a subtle way of saying I don’t look the part?"

"No, no, definitely a compliment," he said quickly, waving his hands. "It’s just… Yoongi’s been extra secretive about this whole thing. And now I see why."

"Yeah, well," I said, gesturing vaguely around the room, "he’s not exactly a ray of sunshine to work with."

Hoseok laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking. "Trust me, I know. But if you’re still here, that means you’re tougher than most. Or really patient."

"Or both," I muttered under my breath.

Hoseok’s grin widened, and he gave me a mock salute. "Well, K—er, Y/N—it’s an honor to meet you. Seriously. Your work speaks for itself."

He continued, a small smile playing on his lips. "Trust me, when I say this, Yoongi wouldn’t work with you if you weren’t talented. He’s picky about these things. So if he’s giving you a hard time, it’s probably because he knows you’re good enough to keep up with him."

I blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. "That’s… nice of you to say."

"Just calling it like I see it," he said with a shrug.

Before I could respond, the door opened again, and Yoongi walked in. His eyes flicked between me and Hoseok, his expression unreadable.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Hoseok, his tone laced with mild irritation.

Hoseok grinned, completely unfazed. "Came by to check on you, of course. But I see you’re in good hands."

Yoongi’s gaze shifted to me, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—annoyance? Curiosity? It was hard to tell.

"Don’t you have your own schedule to worry about?" Yoongi asked, walking over to his desk.

"I’m on a break," Hoseok replied cheerfully. "And besides, I wanted to meet your mystery producer. You could’ve mentioned she’s not a guy, by the way."

Yoongi’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on the stack of notes in front of him, clearly dismissing the conversation.

"Well," Hoseok said, standing up and stretching, "I’ll leave you two to it. Nice meeting you, Y/N."

"Nice meeting you too," I said, watching as he strolled out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Yoongi and me alone again.

"You’ve been busy making friends," he said, not looking up from his papers.

"Is that a problem?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Just don’t let him distract you. We’ve got work to do."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," I said, turning back to my laptop with a hint of sarcasm.

Yoongi didn’t push further, but I could feel his gaze linger on me for a moment before he returned to his papers. But as I settled back into the project, I couldn’t help but think about what Hoseok had said. Maybe Yoongi’s high standards weren’t a bad thing. Maybe, just maybe, they were proof that he saw something in me worth pushing for. *** The next day, I walked into the studio, ready to dive into the work, but there was something off in the air. Yoongi was sitting at his desk, staring at his screen, tapping his pen rhythmically on the surface. It was a subtle change, but it didn’t escape me, he wasn’t his usual, calm and collected self.

I sat down at my workstation, glancing over at him. He was clearly deep in thought, but there was an edge to his silence today that felt... different. More charged. I wondered if it had anything to do with yesterday’s interaction with Hoseok. Yoongi didn’t acknowledge my arrival, which was typical, but today his lack of response felt unusually pointed. After a long, tense silence, he finally spoke without looking up.

“Didn’t you want your identity a secret?” His voice was cold, almost accusatory.

I froze.

“Excuse me?” I asked, trying to hide the annoyance creeping up my neck.

“Talking to Hoseok yesterday," he continued, now looking at me with an unreadable expression. "The whole 'I can’t reveal my identity' thing. So why are you suddenly so comfortable with him knowing?"

I felt a flash of irritation surge through me, but I kept my voice level.

“I never said I was ‘comfortable’ with it,” I replied. “I’m just doing my job. And I don’t owe you an explanation about my personal decisions”.

He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read between the lines, but said nothing more. The tension hung heavy in the room as he returned to his screen, though his fingers seemed to hesitate over the keys. I couldn’t help but scoff under my breath. What did he think? That I just decided to throw away years of carefully cultivated anonymity for fun? Minji had already alerted me that J-hope had also signed the NDA. I glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Let’s just get to work,” I said, my tone clipped, trying to deflect from the awkwardness of his question. “You said you wanted to tweak the second verse.”

“Yeah," he muttered, still not meeting my gaze, "but now I’m wondering if I even want to keep collaborating with someone who can’t keep things private.”

There it was again. That little jab. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. I gritted my teeth, my patience thinning.

“I’ve been working in this industry for years, Yoongi,” I said, fighting to keep my composure. “Long before this project. I know what’s at stake. Don’t lecture me about privacy.”

He finally glanced up, his eyes meeting mine. There was a flicker of something, was it guilt? But he quickly masked it with his usual indifference.

“Right,” he said, standing up and walking toward the soundboard. “Let’s get this over with.”

The rest of the session passed with both of us avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Despite the friction, we did manage to make some progress. I’d never admit it aloud, but Yoongi was damn good at what he did. Even when he was being insufferable. After a while, he took a deep breath, rubbing his temples like he was trying to stave off a headache.

“You’re not what I thought you’d be,” he muttered, half to himself.

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what did you expect?”

He gave me a sideways glance, not quite meeting my eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Maybe someone more... calculated. Or quieter.”

“Is that so?” I shot back, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Because I thought you liked chaos in your music.”

He smirked at that, but the tension still lingered between us, thick and unresolved.

As the day wore on, we continued to push through, though it was clear neither of us was really in the mood for any small talk or the usual banter. The chemistry that had started to form in previous days was gone, replaced by an almost uncomfortable distance. I finally stood up to stretch, my back aching from sitting for so long. Yoongi glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, voice cool, as though he didn’t care.

“Yeah. I’m going to grab something to eat,” I replied curtly, gathering my things.

Halfway through gathering my things, for a split second, I thought I saw Yoongi open his mouth as if he was about to say something. Maybe it was the exhaustion on his face or just the weird tension between us, but for a brief second, I thought, just maybe, he was going to offer to grab something to eat with me. Instead, he just turned away, his back to me as he focused on his work. I blinked, swallowing the unexpected disappointment that bubbled up. What was I even expecting? It wasn’t like we were friends. Shaking off the weird feeling, I grabbed my bag and left the studio, the door clicking shut behind me.

*** Once I got to the company’s cafeteria, I was finally able to relax. The soft buzz of voices and clinking silverware was a welcome break from the tension in the studio. I grabbed a tray and found a seat by the window, trying my best to shove aside any thoughts of Yoongi.

He was a talented producer, no doubt, but the way he treated me was... irritating. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. This was business, not friendship, and I had no time to be distracted by someone who probably saw me as just another collaborator, nothing more.

I opened my notebook and jotted down a few ideas for the next two songs we still needed to work on. The first song was nearly done, but we’d been working on it for two weeks, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. It was slow progress, and I could already feel the deadline creeping closer.

I was so deep in thought, sketching out some melodies, that I didn’t notice Hoseok standing in front of me until he waved his hand in front of my face.

“Y/N?” He raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

I jumped a little, then glanced up at him. “Oh, hey, Hoseok. Didn’t see you there.”

He slid into the seat across from me, still grinning like he knew something I didn’t. Hoseok leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning me curiously. “So, how’s it going? He’s not making it too hard for you, is he?”

I almost snorted at the question. “Hard? That’s an understatement. But yeah, I’m surviving. We’re getting somewhere.”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to get along with Yoongi so easily. He’s a bit... stubborn, right?”

I shrugged, taking a bite of my food to avoid answering too directly.

“You’d be surprised what I can tolerate,” I said, feeling defensive for some reason.

Hoseok tilted his head, his gaze sharp. “I guess so. But you know, it’s funny.”

I looked up from my food, confused. “What’s funny?”

Hoseok smirked. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to be such a fan of Yoongi’s music.”

I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. “What do you mean?”

Hoseok just pointed at my phone on the table, where I’d left it open to a playlist of Yoongi’s songs.

I froze, then quickly reached to hide it, but it was too late. Hoseok’s grin widened.

“You know, I really didn’t expect that,” he said, leaning in a little closer, his tone teasing. “I mean, I always knew Yoongi’s music was good, but seeing you listen to it like that... I got to admit, I’m curious what you think of it.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “I’m just... trying to learn more about him, okay? It’s part of the job.”

“Sure, sure,” Hoseok said, still grinning. “I mean, I get it. He’s got a certain... appeal. But hey, don’t let it distract you too much. He’s not the easiest person to get close to.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I muttered, returning to my food, trying to act like I wasn’t the least bit fazed.

Hoseok studied me for a moment, then leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.

“Well, if you want my advice...” He grinned again, his eyes mischievous. “Try not to fall for the music and the man, yeah?”

I choked slightly on my food, coughing. “What?!”

Hoseok laughed, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I’m just saying, Y/N, don’t get too swept up in it all. Yoongi’s a complicated guy. He’s not someone who’ll make things easy.”

I scowled, but there was a small part of me that couldn’t help but appreciate Hoseok’s frankness. “I’m not falling for anything, Hoseok. I’m just here to do my job.”

Hoseok just winked and stood up. “Whatever you say. But if you do need to talk about him... I’m always around.”

Hoseok paused, about to turn around before he shot me a sly grin over his shoulder. “Actually… I don’t know if you’re comfortable with all this yet, so you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’m known for throwing some pretty epic parties around here,” he said, his tone playful. “I’m throwing one at the company soon, gathering the staff, and some of the BTS members will be there too.”

I raised an eyebrow, confused at where this was going. “A party?”

“Yeah, and I can introduce you as the ‘Assistant of Producer K,’ so you won’t have to expose your identity if you’re worried about that. It’ll be low-key, just a way for you to get used to the vibe here. Who knows? You might even get a chance to chat with Yoongi... outside of the studio.” He smirked, his gaze lingering on me as if he could see through the walls I’d built up. “You can bring a plus-one too, if you want.”

It was tempting, especially with the idea of getting out of this studio for a while. Plus, Hoseok seemed genuine, and I didn’t want to just keep hiding away in my little corner of the world.

Still, I was cautious. This wasn’t my scene, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to step into the spotlight, especially if it meant running into Yoongi in a setting like that. The thought of it made my stomach flip.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, trying to sound neutral.

Hoseok grinned, clearly satisfied with my answer. “Take your time. You know where to find me if you decide.”

With that, he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sat there for a moment, turning the invitation over in my head. A party? An opportunity to get used to the vibes, meet people, and possibly see Yoongi in a completely different light. It could be good for me to step out of my shell, get out of my head for a bit. But... was I ready for that?

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside for now. There was no need to make decisions in a rush. I’d think about it later. I finished eating in silence, trying to push all the thoughts about Hoseok’s offer out of my head. It wasn’t like me to just drop everything for a party, but something about the idea of getting out of the studio, meeting people, and maybe getting a chance to see Yoongi in a less... tense environment intrigued me. But I couldn’t focus on that now.

I stood up, pushing my tray toward the dirty dish bin, and made my way back to the studio. As I walked through the hallway, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu. It was like I’d just left, but already it felt like I’d been away too long. The faint hum of the studio's equipment reached my ears before I even stepped through the door.

When I entered, the first thing I noticed was Yoongi, still at his spot, but now with a bowl of noodles in front of him. The faint smell of the broth hit me, and I couldn't help but cringe. Didn’t he ever leave this place?

Yoongi looked up from his meal, barely acknowledging me as I entered. "You’re back," he muttered, his voice a little muffled by a mouthful of noodles.

"Yeah," I said, letting the door close behind me. "Still working, I see."

“Of course,” he replied, the tone in his voice sounding almost too casual. "The faster we finish this, the sooner we can move on to the next track."

I dropped my bag onto the table and pulled my chair out. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You keep rushing through everything, thinking you can just ‘move on’ from one song to the next. But this isn’t a race, Yoongi.”

He looked at me sharply, his brows furrowing. "I'm not rushing anything. We need to get this done before the deadline, and you can’t expect me to just waste time on something that isn’t working."

I stared at him, my patience thinning. “You’re not even open to trying something new. Every idea I suggest gets shot down, but you’re so attached to this ‘perfect’ vision of yours. Well, guess what? Perfect doesn’t exist.”

Yoongi set his bowl down, the chopsticks clinking against the edge. “So what, you think I’m not doing my best?” His eyes narrowed, and the room suddenly felt smaller. “You think I don’t care about the quality?”

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “It’s not about that, Yoongi. You’re too set in your ways. You think your way is the only way, but this is a collaboration. I can’t just keep following your orders. I’m not your assistant.”

He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his forehead, like I was the last thing he needed in his life right now. "I never said you were my assistant."

“Then stop treating me like one,” I snapped, feeling my annoyance rise. "I’m not here just to cater to your ideas. If we’re working together, we need to meet in the middle."

The silence stretched between us for a few long moments. Then Yoongi glanced away, exhaling sharply as if trying to push back his own frustration. "Fine," he muttered. "We’ll figure it out. But don’t expect everything to happen overnight."

“I don’t,” I replied dryly. "But I expect respect, which is something you seem to be lacking in."

He didn’t answer right away, just went back to staring at his noodles. For a moment, I thought it might be best to just call it a day and leave, but something about the lingering tension kept me rooted to the spot.

"By the way," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could second-guess myself. "Hoseok invited me to a party. At the company. I’m thinking about going."

Yoongi’s head snapped up at the mention of Hoseok’s name, and I caught the flash of something in his eyes—a mix of surprise, confusion. It was hard to tell. But whatever it was, it was there, even if he quickly masked it with a smirk.

“Hoseok?” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it. “What’s he got to do with you going to a party?”

"I don’t know," I said, shrugging. "Maybe I’ll go. I might need a break from the studio. Get out of here for a bit. And who knows? It might be nice to talk to someone who isn’t you."

Yoongi didn’t seem pleased with that, but he said nothing. Instead, he shifted in his chair and looked at the screen in front of him, ignoring me completely.

“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” he asked, his voice low.

“I don’t know,” I replied, leaning forward on my elbows. “You’ve been pretty hard to work with lately. Maybe a break is exactly what I need.”

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask you not to take a break. I’m just... trying to get this done.”

I tilted my head, studying him for a moment. "Fine. Just let me know when you’re ready to actually collaborate. You can stop being so defensive for two seconds."

There was another tense silence before I stood up to leave the room. But as I reached for the door, something inside me—maybe frustration, maybe curiosity—made me turn back.

“By the way,” I said, walking back to Yoongi’s desk. “Could you give me Hoseok’s number? I might need it for the party.”

Yoongi froze for a second, his fingers stopping mid-air as if I’d just thrown him off balance. His eyes narrowed, and for a second, he didn’t say anything.

"Why would you need that?" he finally asked, voice tight.

"Because I need to respond to him if I am showing up or not," I replied, my tone sharp.

Yoongi glared at me but didn’t say anything else, a muscle in his jaw twitching. After a beat, he reluctantly scribbled something down on a piece of paper and slid it toward me. “Here. But if you think I’m going to chase you to the party... you’re wrong.”

I took the paper, glancing at it before shoving it into my pocket. “Thanks. I’ll make sure not to expect you there.”

Without another word, I turned and left, my mind buzzing with more questions than answers. What was going on with Yoongi? And, most importantly... Why did his attitude bother me more than I cared to admit? *** I grabbed my phone, fingers hovering over the screen before I hit send. The past few days had been a blur of studio time and late-night meals. I needed something to break the routine. So, Thursday evening I finally decided to take Hoseok up on his offer.

Y/N: Hey Hoseok, it's Y/N! I just wanted to double-check the party details again. You said it’s at the company building, right? What time should I be there?

The response was almost immediate, Hoseok’s usual energy practically jumping out of the screen.

Hoseok: Yep! It’s at the company building. We’ll start around 7 PM, but feel free to come anytime after that. You know how these things go. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re introduced properly as “Prod K’s assistant” so no one will know who you really are. It’ll be low-key, promise!

I let out a relieved sigh. That sounded like exactly what I needed … low-key, no expectations, just a chance to escape the studio for a bit.

Y/N: Thanks, that sounds perfect. I’ll be there. Can I bring my friend Minji? She’d love to come.

Hoseok: Of course! Bring whoever you want. It’s all about having a good time. I’m looking forward to seeing you there!

I grinned at the message, feeling a little lighter. At least for one night, I could just focus on having fun and not worry about my identity or working with Yoongi.

Putting my phone down, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The whole idea of going to a party sounded so... normal, so different from the chaos I had been drowning in lately. The studio, Yoongi’s sharp comments, and the constant pressure to produce. Maybe this would be a good chance to just... breathe.

I glanced over at the calendar on my desk, mentally counting the days. The next day, I texted Minji.

Y/N: Hey, I’m going to that party Hoseok invited me to on Sunday. Want to come with me?

Minji: YES YES YES YES. This is going to be so fun! Who else is going?

Y/N: Apparently, all the BTS members will be there too.

Minji: Wait, like ALL of them? Are you serious? We need to plan our outfits then.

Y/N: Just don’t go overboard, okay? Let’s keep it chill.

Minji: You know I can't do “chill” when it comes to parties!

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Minji was always up for an adventure. I knew she’d be bouncing off the walls all weekend in preparation. I didn’t mind though. If anyone could pull me out of my head and get me excited for something, it was her.

When Saturday evening arrived, the studio was buzzing with an unexpected energy. After three weeks of near-constant back-and-forth, I finally felt like we’d made some real progress. The first song was done. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as we could get in such a short time, and for the first time in a while, I felt the weight lift off my shoulders.

I glanced at Yoongi, who had been hunched over his computer screen for hours, typing away at the final tweaks. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but when the last beat dropped into place, he sat back in his chair and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"We did it," he said, turning his head to meet my eyes.

It wasn’t much, but there was a slight spark in his gaze. A hint of pride, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual indifference.

“Yeah, we did,” I said, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips. "It’s... good."

Yoongi paused, eyes locked on mine for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I guess you don’t completely suck at this after all."

I raised an eyebrow, playing along. "I’m glad to know you’re impressed."

We both laughed softly, the tension that had been hanging between us for weeks finally easing. It was a strange feeling, one I wasn’t used to with him, but I couldn’t deny it. It felt... nice. Like we’d just hit a milestone together.

Yoongi extended his hand, and I hesitated for a split second before I went for it, my palm feeling warmer than usual. Our high-five was awkward, neither of us really knowing how to react. But in that brief moment, I realized how unusual it was for us to share something this... simple.

"Congratulations," I said, nodding toward the screen. "We actually did it."

"Yeah," Yoongi replied, his voice softer than I expected. "I’ll see you on Monday, then. We’ll tackle the next one."

I blinked, taken aback for a second. Monday? Just like that, the professional distance came back. I hadn’t expected him to say that so casually, but I guess it was what we were supposed to do: get the work done, pack up, and move on.

But for some reason, as I sat there in the quiet of the studio, a thought lingered. He’s really not coming to the party, huh?

I glanced over at him, but Yoongi was already packing up his things, seemingly focused on getting out of the studio as quickly as possible. He didn’t even look back at me as he gathered his notes and the leftover snacks we had both been snacking on throughout the day.

I stood up and grabbed my bag, deciding it was better to just let it go. No need to dwell on something that wasn’t going to happen. He was Yoongi, professional, distant Yoongi. He wasn’t someone who would show up to a party for fun.

"Alright," I said, the awkwardness settling back into my chest. "See you Monday, I guess."

Yoongi glanced over at me for a brief moment, nodding. "Yeah. See you."

As I left the studio, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but I couldn’t place what. Maybe it was just the relief of finally finishing the first song. Or maybe it was just the weird dynamic between us, the unexpected moments of quiet camaraderie that had popped up over the last few days.

But as I stepped out of the building, I realized how much I was looking forward to the party on Sunday. It was the break I needed. *** Sunday evening came faster than I expected. Minji showed up at my apartment just as I was pulling out a few potential outfits from my closet. She threw her bag on the couch and plopped herself down with a dramatic sigh.

“Finally, a party!” she exclaimed, leaning back and stretching like she’d just run a marathon. “We’ve been cooped up with that brooding genius for weeks. We need this.”

I rolled my eyes, laying a sleek black turtleneck dress over the back of the chair. “It’s not ‘we’. I’m the one stuck with him in the studio.”

Minji snorted. “You say that like I’m not the one dealing with your constant texts complaining about how annoying he is. ‘Minji, he’s impossible. Minji, he’s a perfectionist. Minji, he’s so irritatingly—’”

“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, throwing a pillow at her. “I get it.”

She caught the pillow with a grin. “Admit it, though. You’re starting to like working with him, aren’t you?”

“Like is a strong word,” I muttered, holding up a dark green dress and then discarding it. “We finally finished one song yesterday. That’s it.”

“But you’re not denying it.” She smirked, standing up to rummage through the pile of clothes I’d pulled out. “Ooh, this one’s cute.”

She held up a sequined gold dress, and I shook my head immediately. “Too flashy. I’m not trying to stand out. Just look professional and approachable.”

Minji rolled her eyes. “You know this is a party, right? Not a corporate meeting?”

“Still. I want to keep a low profile,” I said, picking up the black turtleneck dress. It was tight enough to show some curves but modest enough to feel professional, with long sleeves and a hemline that hit just above the knees. “What about this?”

Minji tilted her head, considering. “It’s very you. Chic, understated, mysterious. And Yoongi’s probably going to notice you in it.”

I groaned. “Not everything is about Yoongi!“

Minji raised an eyebrow, smirking as she flopped onto the couch. “Oh, really? If it’s not about Yoongi, then why are you quoting him like he’s living rent-free in your head?”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. “Because it’s relevant! When I told him Hoseok invited me, Yoongi literally said, ‘But if you think I’m going to chase you to the party... you’re wrong.’ And yesterday, after we finished the song, he ended with, ‘See you Monday.’” I huffed. “He couldn’t have been clearer about not showing up.”

Minji snorted. “Wow. He really went out of his way to make sure you knew, huh?”

“Exactly.” I tossed the dress onto the bed. “So, can we drop this whole ‘Yoongi might surprise you at the party’ thing? It’s not happening.”

Minji held up her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No Yoongi talk. But honestly, he sounds so extra about it. Like, what’s his deal? You’re the one who didn’t even want to be there with him in the first place.”

“Exactly!” I said again, throwing my hands up. “I don’t even care if he shows up or not. This is supposed to be my break. I just want to go, enjoy the night, and pretend I don’t have deadlines hanging over my head for one evening.”

Minji smirked knowingly but didn’t say anything more as she got up to sift through her own options for the party. After a moment, she held up a red dress with a dramatic neckline and sparkling details. “What about this for me? It screams ‘I’m the fun friend.’”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t need a dress to say that. Everyone already knows.”

***

A little while later, we were both ready. Minji had gone with her glittery red dress, while I stuck to my black turtleneck one.

As we grabbed our things, Minji gave me a playful nudge. “Okay, so, final thoughts: what if Yoongi does show up, despite everything he said?”

I shot her a withering look. “Then I’ll eat my words. But that’s not happening.”

Minji grinned as we headed out the door. “We’ll see.”

*** The energy of the party was already palpable as Minji and I entered the venue. The music was loud enough to drown out any awkward thoughts, and the lighting cast a warm, celebratory glow. Before we could get our bearings, a familiar figure spotted us and made his way over with an enthusiastic wave.

“Welcome, welcome!” Hoseok beamed, his smile as bright as the room itself. “You made it! I was starting to think you’d ditch last minute.”

Minji laughed. “Not with you hosting, J-hope. She couldn’t say no.”

I shot her a quick glare but turned to Hoseok with a polite smile. “Thanks for inviting us.”

As we exchanged pleasantries, a small group approached him, each handing over neatly wrapped gifts or gift bags.

“Happy birthday, Hobi!” one of them exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug before leaving the gift with him.

I blinked, taken aback. “Wait... birthday?” I turned to Hoseok, brows furrowed. “Is this... your birthday party?”

Hoseok gave me a sheepish grin. “Well, yeah. Kind of.”

I stared at him, stunned. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!”

“Of course, I didn’t,” he replied, laughing. “If I told you, you wouldn’t have come. Admit it!”

I opened my mouth to protest, then paused, realizing he wasn’t entirely wrong. “…Okay, fair. But now I feel terrible. I didn’t bring you anything.”

He waved it off with a casual flick of his hand. “Don’t even worry about it. Your presence is enough of a gift.”

Minji rolled her eyes playfully. “Wow, smooth.”

I ignored her, offering Hoseok a tentative smile. “Well, if that’s the case, I owe you dinner. My treat. Birthday special.”

Hoseok’s grin widened, and he gave me a mock bow. “I’ll hold you to that.” As the party carried on, my mind wandered, unbidden, to Yoongi. If it was Hoseok’s birthday, then surely Yoongi would be here, right? They were bandmates, practically brothers. Despite everything he’d said, it felt impossible that he wouldn’t show up to celebrate.

Right?

Hoseok, catching my distracted expression, nudged me lightly. “Come on, let me introduce you to the guys.”

As Hoseok led me through the crowd, I tried to shake off the lingering thoughts about Yoongi. I couldn’t help myself, though; the idea that he wasn’t here, despite everything, gnawed at me. Was he really just going to stay out of sight, like he’d said? Or had something else kept him away?

"Hey, over here," Hoseok called, his voice cutting through my thoughts as he pulled me toward the others. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Minji, the assistant and the manager of Producer K!"

The guys all turned to look, some with grins on their faces, others with more curious expressions. I gave a small wave, trying to maintain the composure I knew I needed for moments like this. Being around people like them—BTS—was something I wasn’t used to, but I was starting to adjust, or at least, I hoped I was.

"Y/N and Minji, huh? Nice to meet you," Jimin said first, flashing me a grin that lit up his whole face. "Hoseok's always talking about Producer K’s work. You must also be a pretty big deal if you’re working with him."

"Yeah, I've heard about his skills," Taehyung added, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nice to meet some of the brains behind the scenes." He gave a slight bow, which I returned awkwardly.

"We've been hearing a lot about you guys," Namjoon said, his deep voice steady and reassuring. "It's nice to finally put a face to the names."

"Thanks," I replied, trying to keep the mood light. "We just do our part in the background."

They all nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. But it was clear that Hoseok’s introduction had piqued their interest, and the attention felt overwhelming. I quickly shifted my gaze to see if Yoongi had come in yet, but the crowd was thick, and I didn’t spot him immediately.

"Minji," I whispered, trying to keep my voice low, "Do you think Yoongi’s coming?"

Minji raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you hoping he does?"

I shot her a sharp look, but she just laughed, nudging me playfully. "Relax, Y/N. If he’s coming, he’ll show up eventually. For now, just enjoy the party. You’ve earned it."

I sighed and nodded, trying to push the thoughts of Yoongi aside. There was no point in stressing over something I couldn’t control.

As the introductions continued, Hoseok pulled me into a more private corner of the room, away from the group for a moment. "You’re doing great," he said with a genuine smile. "I know this might feel like a lot, but you’re handling it well. The others are just excited to meet you. They’ve heard a lot about producer K."

"Thanks," I replied, a little surprised at his sudden encouragement. "I’m just trying to keep a low profile, honestly."

"Yeah, I get it," Hoseok nodded knowingly. "You know, though, if you want to meet some more people, I can introduce you around. You don’t have to worry about your identity being exposed here. "

I just nodded, grateful for his understanding. But part of me was still wondering, was Yoongi going to show up? Or had I been right all along? Was he truly not interested in stepping outside of the studio for something like this?

At that moment, Jungkook stepped over to join us. "What’s up, guys?" he said with a smile.

Hoseok grinned and gave him a playful nudge. "Hey, you! This is Y/N, Producer K’s assistant. You’ve heard a lot about her, right?"

Jungkook looked at me, his expression slightly puzzled at first before breaking into a smile. "Ah, yeah, I’ve heard a little. Nice to meet you, Y/N." He gave a casual wave, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

"Nice to meet you too," I replied with a slight smile.

Jungkook seemed to sense the tension in the air, glancing between Hoseok and me. "So, Hyung, who else did you invite?"

Hoseok grinned, looking around the room. "A lot more people, but ah, yes, Y/N—the only member you haven’t met yet is Jin. He’s in the military, so it’s just the rest of us holding down the fort tonight."

I nodded, trying to mask my surprise. "Ah, I didn’t realize. That must be tough for you guys."

Hoseok shrugged, but there was a hint of something bittersweet in his eyes. "Yeah, but it is what it is. We’re all proud of him, of course. We just miss him, that’s all."

Jungkook nodded in agreement. "It’s been a while, but we’ll manage. He’ll be back before we know it."

I felt a pang of empathy for them, understanding how difficult it must be to have someone so important absent from events like this. But the conversation quickly shifted as Hoseok directed it back to me.

"So, Y/N, now that you’ve met the guys, are you having fun? No pressure, just curious." He raised an eyebrow, clearly looking for my reaction.

I forced a smile, trying to get out of my own head. "Yeah, it’s been good. Just a little overwhelming."

"Totally understandable," Jungkook said, giving me a reassuring smile. "But don’t worry. It’s just a party. No big deal."

I chuckled softly, grateful for the small bit of comfort. But my thoughts still drifted back to Yoongi. Would he really not show up?

Just then, I spotted Minji on the dance floor, looking like she was having the time of her life. Without a second thought, I nudged Hoseok. "I think I need to join her," I said, already pushing my way through the crowd.

"Go ahead," Hoseok replied with a grin. "I’ll be around if you need anything."

I made my way over to Minji, and we quickly fell into the rhythm of the music, letting the beat carry us away. The drinks were flowing, and before I knew it, the atmosphere shifted into a carefree, almost electric vibe. As more people showed up, the party grew livelier, and from time to time, some of the BTS members would come over and join us on the dance floor. It was fun, it was wild, but... my mind kept drifting back to Yoongi.

Unable to hold it in any longer, I pulled Hoseok aside when I caught him by the bar. "Hey, Hoseok... Where’s Yoongi?"

Hoseok glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, then shrugged. "Oh, he was here earlier, literally before you showed up. Now that you mention it, though, I haven’t seen him since."

I felt a strange mix of disappointment and... relief? I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it was better this way, but somehow, a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing from the night.

Minji and I were having a blast, drink after drink, dance after dance. The music, the energy, everything was a blur of fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I had let myself enjoy the moment so freely, and for a while, it was exactly what I needed. But after a few more songs, I started to feel a little dizzy, the world spinning just slightly out of focus.

"Minji, I’m going to head somewhere quiet for a bit," I said, my voice a little unsteady. "I just need to lay down, get myself together. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?"

She shot me a playful grin, still bouncing to the beat. "Take care of yourself, girl! I’ll be here if you need me!"

With that, I slipped away from the dance floor, trying to stay steady on my feet. I remembered the studio I’d worked for the past weeks had a cosy sofa tucked away in one of its corners. It was the perfect place to rest for a bit until the dizziness passed.

I made my way to the studio, feeling the coolness of the hallway against my skin. The noise of the party seemed to fade as I pushed open the door, the silence of the room a welcome contrast to the chaos outside. I sank onto the sofa, closing my eyes for a few moments, hoping to just let the room settle.

I was only half-aware of how long I’d been there when I heard the door creak open. My eyes fluttered open, and I instantly tensed. Had someone followed me in?

There, standing in the doorway, was Yoongi. He looked surprised to see me there, his eyebrows knitting together as he glanced around the room before fixing his gaze on me.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone still as clipped as ever.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing here?" I shot back. "I thought you weren't even coming to the party."

His eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he seemed to shrug it off. "Well I did. But, I don’t exactly need to announce my presence to everyone." His voice was colder than usual.

I bit my lip, frustration rising in my chest. "Then why are you here, Yoongi? If you're so indifferent about the party, why are you hiding out here?"

His shoulders tensed slightly as he crossed his arms in front of him while standing next to the coach, his eyes not quite meeting mine. "Not hiding. Just... thinking." He sighed. "I could ask the same thing."

I crossed my arms too, feeling the heat of irritation flood my veins. "I’m just getting away from the noise for a bit, okay?"

He didn't seem convinced, his lips forming a faint, sarcastic smile. "Right. Just taking a break. From everything, including the party, in my studio huh?"

Before I could respond, the unease that had been building between us finally snapped thanks to the alcohol. I pushed past him, moving toward the door. "Fine, I’ll leave. You can have your privacy too, Yoongi."

I turned sharply, my frustration boiling over, and reached for the door. The cool metal handle felt solid beneath my fingers, offering a small comfort. But as soon as I used it to crack the door open, I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me. A hand shot out, and in one swift motion, Yoongi’s arm stretched across me, pushing the door shut and blocking my escape.

I froze, my pulse quickening as I felt the warmth of his body close behind me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe for a moment, caught in the tension of his presence. His arm hovered just inches from my face, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he braced himself against the door. I could feel the faint shift of air from his movement, the pressure of his proximity filling the space between us. He was so close, but he didn’t touch me.

His breath was warm against the back of my neck, his presence so tangible that it almost felt suffocating. I couldn’t help but stiffen, the tension in the air thick and heavy. My hand, still gripping the door handle, trembled slightly, and I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.

"Let go," I muttered, my voice low, tight with a mix of anger and something else that I couldn’t quite place.

But Yoongi didn’t budge. He was silent for a long moment, his body pressed just behind mine, not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel his every movement, his breath still brushing over the back of my neck.

"No," he said, his voice soft but firm’’...stay.” There was no hesitation in his tone, as though he had made up his mind about this. About me.

I didn’t turn to face him. I couldn’t. But I could hear the subtle shift in his tone. It wasn’t just the frustration from before—it was something else now. Something quieter.

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, though my hands were still shaking, my fingers gripping the door handle as if it might ground me. "Why should I stay?"

Yoongi’s breath seemed to hitch at that, and he shifted slightly, his chest brushing against my back as he leaned in just enough for me to feel the weight of his presence. "Because," he started slowly, his voice almost a murmur, "I didn’t tell you to leave."

His words were unexpected. I hadn’t anticipated this, whatever it was, this softness in his tone, this tension building between us.

I could feel myself bristling and I turned around to face him. "Why should I listen? You didn’t even want to work with me in the first place. Why should I stay here with you now?"

"Who told you that?"

His voice, quieter now when his eye caught mine, but the words still stung. "I overheard you that day, talking to Jihoon on the phone, during the first week. You said you should've argued harder with your company to not work with me... and you said it was because I’m a woman."

I could feel my chest tighten as the words left my lips. The tension in the air thickened, and before I knew it, I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

Yoongi’s face faltered. His eyes softened.

"I didn’t say that." Yoongi's voice was quieter, almost apologetic now. "If you heard me properly that day... I said I knew you were talented. And I knew how much you value your privacy. I know this whole thing is risky for you. That’s why… if I had known you were a woman, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to work with you. I didn’t want to blow your cover or make you feel uncomfortable around me the whole time".

I blinked, my heart dropping. I felt like I had heard those words, but it was as if I hadn’t truly processed them until now. Not in that context. I could feel my breath catch in my throat. I didn’t know what to say. His words were so different from what I had thought. My mind was swirling, and before I could stop it, a few tears broke free and slid down my cheek.

Without a word, Yoongi stepped closer, his hand brushing my cheek gently, his thumb swiping away the tears while holding my face.

I froze, staring up at him, unsure of what was happening, but the proximity, his nearness, was overwhelming. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, and his touch was so soft it almost made my heart ache.

His eyes met mine again, searching, lingering. We were so close now. His breath mingled with mine as he looked down at me, and I could feel the heat between us.

"Can I..." He started, his voice low, almost hesitant, but before he could finish, the door suddenly jolted behind me.

I jumped, both of us stepping away instinctively, my heart racing. The air between Yoongi and me shattered in an instant.

It was Hoseok. He stepped inside, a playful grin on his face, but his eyes didn’t seem to notice me. "Yoongi! Where’s Y/N? She was looking out for you earlier, and then she just disappeared on me."

I couldn’t look at either of them. I just stood there, my back to the door, trying to breathe normally.

Hoseok stepped further into the room, a confused expression crossing his face as he noticed me and the way Yoongi was standing. He glanced between us, his gaze flicking back to Yoongi. "Everything good here?" he asked, sounding half-serious, half-playful.

I quickly moved, my cheeks flushed, and hurried out of the room, unable to handle the awkwardness any longer. Hoseok called after me, but I didn’t look back. I just needed to get away, to breathe, to think.

But as I walked away, I couldn’t stop the images of Yoongi’s eyes on me, his breath on my skin. What had just happened? I wasn’t sure, but my heart was pounding in my chest as I moved further from that room, from him. *** When I finally made it back to the party, I spotted Minji chatting away with Taehyung. She looked up and waved me over, her usual bright energy making her stand out. But I couldn’t shake the feeling from earlier. Yoongi's words, his actions. I knew I needed to leave.

"Minji," I said, cutting through the conversation. "We need to go." She blinked, surprised at the abruptness of my tone, but nodded without questioning me. I turned to Taehyung, who had been listening to Minji ramble on, with a smile on his face.

"Tell Hoseok I’m sorry, but I have to leave. I'll see him again soon," I said, my voice steady. "And remind him that I still owe him that dinner."

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He just gave me a knowing smile. "Alright, take care. I’ll let him know."

Minji and I made our way out of the venue, the lights of the party fading as we stepped into the cool night air. The moment we were in a taxi, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

Minji glanced at me, her eyes practically sparkling with mischief as she read me like an open book. “Wow. So you did meet him. What happened? Tell me everything. Now."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

Minji threw me a playful look. "You're not getting away with it. I need to know all the details. Was it awkward? Did he talk to you? What did he say? Was it... was it like, a moment?"

I groaned, leaning back against the headrest. "Honestly, it was... complicated." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "We had a bit of an argument, and then, out of nowhere, he blocked the door when I tried to leave. He didn’t want me to go. And then, he... he said some things. I don’t know. Things about me being a woman, about my privacy... It just felt like it was all crashing down in one moment."

Minji’s face shifted from excitement to concern. "Wait, what? He said what about your privacy?"

I sighed deeply, recalling the mix of emotions from that moment. "I told him I overheard him on the phone saying he didn't want to work with me because I was a woman. I was mad. And I think I was hurt, too. He didn’t deny it. He said... he said that he knows I’m talented and that he wouldn’t have worked with me if he knew I was a girl because it could’ve blown my cover. I... I didn’t know what to think."

Minji stared at me, processing everything I’d just said. "Wow. That’s a lot. But it sounds like he really didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N. I mean, he doesn’t want to blow your cover, and he’s not the type to just say stuff for no reason. I think he might’ve been trying to protect you in his own way."

I shook my head, still not fully understanding it all. "Maybe. But it doesn’t make it easier. He’s so confusing, Minji. One minute, he’s mad at me, then we’re... closer than I thought. I don’t even know if I want to deal with it."

Minji placed a hand on mine, her expression softening. "You’re allowed to be confused. I get it. But maybe, just maybe, this could be a good thing. He’s not the only one with walls up, you know? You’ve got yours too."

I sighed, leaning back again. "Yeah, but this... this is different. He’s not supposed to make me feel like this."

Minji didn’t say anything at first, but then she shrugged slightly. "Look, I can’t tell you what to do. But whatever happens, you’ll figure it out. You always do."

Her words were comforting, even though I wasn’t sure if I agreed. I wanted to know what Yoongi wanted from me, if anything. But for now, I had to focus on what came next.

***

The next morning, I woke up feeling like I was moving through a fog. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol from the night before or the confusion swirling around my thoughts, but I had to get up, get ready, and go to work. It was just another day. I was a professional, after all.

As I stared at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but think about everything that had happened between Yoongi and I the night before. The words, the tension, the way he blocked the door... It all felt like a surreal dream now. I quickly pushed those thoughts away, forcing myself to focus. I’d told Minji last night that I wouldn’t mention it again. That was the plan. I was going to walk in, act normal, and get through this day like nothing had happened. I had a job to do.

I dressed quickly, choosing something that felt both comfortable and professional, jeans and a simple blouse. Nothing too attention-grabbing. With one last look at myself in the mirror, I headed out.

The drive to the studio was quiet, my mind a little too preoccupied with what I’d left behind. I thought about texting Minji again, but I didn’t want to be that person who overanalysed everything. I’d deal with it.

The moment I stepped into the studio, I immediately spotted Yoongi, already seated at the desk, headphones on, his gaze focused on the screen in front of him. The familiar quiet hum of the place seemed to swallow up any lingering awkwardness between us.

I set my bag down on the sofa and made my way over to the desk, trying to appear as casual as possible. I could feel Yoongi’s eyes flicker briefly in my direction, but he didn’t acknowledge me right away. That was fine. No need for anything weird to happen today. I wasn’t going to let it.

“Morning,” I said, offering a neutral smile, willing myself to act as though last night had never even happened.

Yoongi just nodded, his expression still unreadable. "Morning."

I took my seat and opened my notebook, flipping through the pages as if the routine of it all would help settle the tension that had been gnawing at me since our confrontation the night before. The silence between us felt a little less suffocating, though. It wasn’t that we were talking more, it was just that Yoongi didn’t seem as harsh on his tone today. No biting comments yet, no sharp observations either.

He adjusted the volume on the speakers and clicked around on the computer for a few seconds before speaking again. "You finished that beat you were working on Saturday?"

“Yeah, it’s done,” I replied, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were focused on the screen, but I noticed there was a slight change in his demeanour. The tension from before, the coldness, seemed to have faded. It wasn’t gone completely, but it was much more subtle now.

He didn’t respond immediately, just tapped a few keys on the keyboard before nodding. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

I slid the flash drive with the updated track across the table. Yoongi took it, plugged it into the system, and started the track without a word. The room filled with the sound of the beat I had been perfecting, and I waited, watching his reaction closely.

As the beat played, Yoongi’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t make any negative comments this time. He just let the track play all the way through, his eyes scanning the waveform on the screen, listening intently.

When the track ended, he leaned back in his chair, finally looking over at me. “Not bad.”

I couldn’t help but feel a small relief wash over me. "Not bad" from Yoongi was a compliment, even if it didn’t sound like one. At least he hadn’t outright criticized it.

“Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though I could feel my nerves creeping back up again. “Anything you want me to change?”

Yoongi scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It’s a little too clean. Add some grit, something to make it stand out more. We need it to hit harder.”

I nodded, taking mental notes. “Got it. I’ll work on that.”

It felt almost normal, the way we interacted. No lingering animosity, no mention of what had happened the night before.

As the session continued, the vibe between us remained steady, calm and professional, with just a touch of the underlying tension we hadn’t addressed. We worked for hours, tweaking the track here and there, going back and forth on the sound and rhythm until everything was just the way we wanted it.

At some point, Yoongi stood up and stretched, letting out a quiet sigh. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You want anything?”

I blinked, surprised. He’d never offered to get me anything before, not like this. His tone was casual, though, like it was no big deal.

“I’ll take an iced coffee,” I said, half-smiling at the unexpected gesture.

Yoongi didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked out of the studio. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It wasn’t like everything was magically fixed, but there was something about this new, less tense dynamic that felt... better. More comfortable, even.

As I sat back in my chair, I tried to focus on the track again, but my mind kept drifting. What has changed between us? I knew I wasn’t imagining it, there was definitely something different today. But I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

When Yoongi came back with the coffee, we fell back into the routine of the session, but now, it felt almost easy. We were working smoothly, and I caught him glancing over at me once or twice, his eyes lingering a little longer than before.

Still, neither of us brought up what happened the night before. Not yet. Maybe it wasn’t the right time. Or maybe it was something neither of us wanted to revisit.

***

As the day came to a close, I packed up my things, feeling the weight of the day lifting off my shoulders. I had managed to get through the session with Yoongi without any more awkwardness, which was a small victory in itself. As I grabbed my bag, I looked over at Yoongi, who was already absorbed in his work again.

“See you tomorrow,” I said casually, ready to leave the studio.

Yoongi gave me a small nod, his focus not wavering. “Yeah, see you.”

I left the studio and stepped into the cool evening air, the city lights twinkling in the distance. I needed a distraction. Something to take my mind off everything that had happened with Yoongi.

I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a text to Hoseok.

Y/N: Hey, are you free tonight?

Hoseok: Yeah, I’m free. What’s up?

Y/N: I told you I owe you dinner. Want to grab some barbecue tonight?

Hoseok: Haha, of course I didn’t forget! Even Taehyung reminded me about it last night after you left! So yeah, sure, let’s do it. When and where?

Y/N: How about at 7 at that popular spot in Gangnam?

Hoseok: Perfect! I’ll see you there. I’ll be starving by the time we meet!

Y/N: Same here. I’m ready to eat my weight in meat.

Hoseok: Haha, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N!

Y/N: See you soon!

I smiled as I read our conversation. Hoseok had a way of lightening the mood, and the idea of spending the evening with him, laughing and eating good food, felt like the perfect way to unwind.

When I arrived at the restaurant, the smell of grilled meat hit me as soon as I stepped inside. I scanned the room for Hoseok and spotted him right away. He was sitting at a table near the back, looking up at me with a wide smile as always.

"Y/N!" he greeted me, standing up to wave as I approached.

"Helloo!" I said with a grin, taking my seat across from him.

He immediately grabbed the menu, flipping through it. "So, what are you in the mood for? Meat, meat, and more meat?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

"Definitely," I replied, laughing. "I’ve been craving barbecue all day."

We both ordered a few different cuts of meat, and as we waited for the grill to heat up, Hoseok leaned back in his chair, looking at me curiously.

"So, what happened last night?" he asked casually, the question catching me a bit off guard.

I hesitated for a second, my fingers tapping on the table. "What do you mean?" I asked, pretending not to understand what he was getting at.

"You know... I could tell something was a little off when you left the party, after i caught you with Yoongi at the studio.." Hoseok said, his tone soft but inquisitive. "Everything okay between you two?”

I shrugged, forcing a smile. "Yeah, everything’s fine," I said, though the words didn’t feel entirely true. "We finished the first song. Two more to go, and then we’ll be done."

Hoseok didn’t seem convinced. He nodded and took a sip of his drink before continuing. "Well, that’s good. I’m glad to hear you’re making progress. But, uh... are you sure everything’s okay with him? You know... since you’ve been working really closely together."

I looked down at my hands for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "It’s fine, Hoseok. Really. Just... we have our days, you know?"

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. "If you say so."

The food arrived, and the sizzling sounds of meat on the grill distracted us both for a moment. Hoseok was quick to start cooking, flipping the pieces of meat with ease. The smell was intoxicating, and I could already feel my stomach growling in anticipation.

We continued to eat, talk, and laugh, the mood light and easy. Hoseok was a great conversationalist. We talked about music, our favourite songs, and his plans for the future. It felt so natural, like we’d known each other for years instead of just a month.

At one point, he pulled out his phone. "Hey, I’d like you to hear something," he said, tapping away at the screen. A moment later, his phone was playing a new track, a smooth, upbeat melody that instantly grabbed my attention.

"This is one of my newer tracks," Hoseok said, watching me closely as the music played. "I’m really proud of it so far, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on it. What do you think?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over me. "This is really good, Hoseok," I said, smiling. "It’s got such a great vibe. It’s... it’s got that perfect energy."

He grinned, clearly pleased with the feedback. "Thanks. I’m hoping it’s going to be a hit. But, you know, it’s not finished yet. Still got a bit of work to do."

"Well, I’d be happy to help with anything you need," I said, my tone sincere. "I think you’re on the right track. I can already picture it in a club."

"Yeah? You’re the expert," he said, leaning back in his chair with a proud smile. "Maybe I should bring you on as a collaborator someday."

I raised my eyebrows at the suggestion. "Collaborator? That would be interesting."

Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. "I’m just saying... if you’re up for it…"

"Maybe," I teased, taking a sip of my drink.

As the night went on, we continued to enjoy the barbecue, the conversation flowing easily between us. It was a welcome distraction from the confusion that had been hanging over me lately. It was hard not to feel at ease around Hoseok. He was kind, funny, and genuine in a way that made me feel like I could let my guard down.

Eventually, after we’d eaten our fill and were lounging in our seats, Hoseok pulled out his phone again. "Come on, let’s take a photo," he suggested, grinning. "You know, for the memories."

I nodded with a smile and he grabbed his phone, opening the camera. We both leaned in, the grill between us, holding our drinks up like we were toasting. "Best birthday gift ever," Hoseok said dramatically as the picture snapped, before quickly typing something into his phone.

"Done!" he said proudly. "I posted it to my close friends on Kakao Talk. You know, just in case anyone wants to know how I spent my special days."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You’re crazy."

"I know," he said with a wink, taking another drink from his glass. "But seriously, Y/N, this has been fun. Thanks for asking me to come out tonight. You’re a lot of fun to hang out with."

I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest. "Of course. I’m glad we did this. It’s been way too long since I’ve had a night like this myself."

"Same here," Hoseok said with a smile. "We should do it again sometime."

As the night wound down to an end, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. It had been a good night, and it felt like I’d finally had a chance to breathe again. The pressure I’d been carrying, the weight of my thoughts about Yoongi and everything that had happened, seemed to lighten a little as I had sat there across from Hoseok, laughing and eating with no other worries.

When the bill arrived, I was quick to grab it, remembering my promise. "It’s on me tonight," I said, pulling my card out before Hoseok could protest. I shook my head, giving him a playful look. "I owe you dinner, remember?"

He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll let you have your moment." He watched me pay, his expression softening into something more genuine. "But next time, I’m the one picking the place and bill."

"Deal," I said, with a smirk. "But only if it’s something equally as good as tonight."

"Haha, I’ll try," he replied, still laughing.

As we walked out of the restaurant, we decided that the evening had been a success, and that we would definitely plan another time to hang out. It was nice to have a real moment with him, away from all the stress and confusion, it had been exactly what I needed, an evening of laughter, food, and friendship. And for that, I was thankful. ***

The next day, I walked into the studio feeling lighter than I had in weeks. My relationship with Yoongi seemed to had softened after yesterday, and dinner with Hoseok had been a bright spot in an otherwise chaotic schedule. I was ready to tackle the second track with a fresh perspective.

As always, Yoongi was already in the studio when I arrived, sitting at the mixing desk, adjusting levels with his usual quiet focus. He acknowledged me with a small nod as I set up my things. His demeanour seemed normal at first, calm and business like.

We dove into the track, bouncing ideas back and forth. At first, everything felt fine, normal even. But as the hours ticked by, Yoongi’s feedback became sharper, his tone more clipped.

“Can you take this seriously?” he snapped suddenly after I made a suggestion about the arrangement.

I looked up, startled. “I am taking this seriously. What’s going on with you today? You seemed fine yesterday.”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said curtly, not looking at me. His fingers tapped at the keyboard with more force than necessary. “You just need to focus more on the job you’re supposed to do.”

I frowned, confused by his sudden change in attitude. “We’re making progress,” I said cautiously, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m confident we’ll meet the deadline.”

Yoongi spun his chair to face me, his eyes narrowing. “If you really cared about the deadline, you would focus on the work instead of going out to dinner with Hoseok and wasting your energy there.”

His words hit like a slap. I blinked, completely taken aback. “How do you even know about the dinner?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “He posted it on Kakao Talk. All the guys were talking about it in the group chat.”

I froze, trying to process what he was saying. Of course Hoseok had shared it, but it was a perfectly innocent dinner, and he’d been excited about it. Still, I felt a strange pang of guilt under Yoongi’s intense gaze.

“I invited him because I felt bad about going to his birthday party without bringing a gift,” I explained, my voice steady but defensive. “I just wanted to make up for it.”

Yoongi’s eyes stayed locked on mine, unreadable. “It’s interesting,” he said coolly, “how close you are with him. I’m the one you work with every day. You don’t see us going to dinner, do you?”

I opened my mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say. Before I could gather my thoughts, Yoongi waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind. Let’s just get back to work.”

The room fell into an awkward silence. I stared at him for a moment longer, trying to make sense of his reaction, but his posture was closed off, his focus fully on the screen in front of him. With a frustrated sigh, I turned back to my notes and forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand.

The rest of the session felt strained. Yoongi’s usual calm, measured feedback was replaced with sharp, almost impatient remarks. It wasn’t just the work, something else was clearly bothering him, but I couldn’t figure out what.

Then, halfway through a take, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening. Without a word, he stood and began gathering his things.

“What’s going on?” I asked, breaking the tense silence.

“Nothing,” he said shortly, not meeting my eyes. “Let’s cut this short today.”

“Yoongi—” I started, but he was already slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his tone final.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the studio. I stared at the door for a long moment, my emotions a mix of confusion and frustration. Whatever had just happened felt personal, even though I couldn’t understand why.

As I packed up my things, my mind kept circling back to his words, to the way he’d looked at me. You don’t see us going to dinner, do you? What did that even mean? Why did it sound like he cared, like it bothered him?

Shaking my head, I gathered my bag and left the studio. No matter how much I wanted to make sense of it, I wasn’t going to let Yoongi’s mood derail the progress we were making, or my own peace of mind. I had a job to do, and I wasn’t about to let this strange tension get in the way.

*** The next day, Yoongi and I exchanged only a few words when I arrived at the studio. His mood seemed calmer than yesterday, though still a little distant. I decided not to push it.

We worked steadily through the day, both of us falling into the rhythm of our tasks. It wasn’t awkward, just focused, like two professionals determined to meet their goal. The hours passed in a blur of music, notes, and adjustments. By the time Yoongi looked up from the computer, his face was lit with mild surprise.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered, glancing at the clock. “It’s late,” rubbing the back of his neck. “We should stop here for today. It’s good progress.”

I nodded and stood up, but as soon as I tried to take a step, my legs wobbled beneath me. I reached out to steady myself against the desk, my vision spinning slightly.

Yoongi was already on his feet, stepping toward me with concern etched on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “I think I’m just a little dizzy. Now that I think about it… I didn’t even eat lunch.”

Without a word, he reached for my wrist and tugged gently. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, caught off guard. “Go where?”

“To eat,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I tried to protest as he led me out of the studio and toward his car. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll grab something on the way home.”

Yoongi ignored me, opening the passenger door and gesturing for me to get in. Reluctantly, I slid into the seat, and he shut the door before walking around to the driver’s side.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. I glanced at him a few times, wondering why he was going out of his way like this, but his expression was unreadable.

We arrived at a small, cosy restaurant tucked away in a quiet part of the city. Yoongi parked the car and got out without a word, waiting for me to follow.

Inside, the warm lighting and inviting atmosphere made me relax a little. We were seated at a corner table, and soon, the smell of grilled meat and savoury dishes filled the air.

“About yesterday,” he started, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

I glanced up, momentarily stunned. He wasn’t looking at me; instead, his gaze was fixed on his plate, as if the words were hard to push out.

“I was out of line,” he admitted, exhaling sharply, almost like the confession itself was a weight lifted.

I blinked, my chopsticks hovering mid-air. Yoongi rarely, if ever, admitted fault. This was unexpected.

“I took a lot of things out on you,” he continued, his tone laced with a hint of self-reproach. His chopsticks moved idly, pushing food around on his plate as if it could somehow distract him from the vulnerability of the moment. “Things that weren’t your fault. And for that, I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice made my breath catch. This wasn’t the stoic, sharp-tongued producer I’d been working with for weeks. This was Yoongi stripped of his usual defences, and it threw me off balance.

“You... You’re apologizing?” I finally said, a mix of disbelief and teasing slipping into my tone.

His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I mean, how can I not?” I said, leaning back in my chair, folding my arms in mock astonishment. “Min Yoongi admitting he’s wrong? I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it.”

Despite his attempt at brushing it off, I could tell the apology mattered to him. He wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean, and the effort behind his words wasn’t lost on me.

“Look,” he continued after a moment, his voice steadying. “Yesterday... I just have been under a lot of pressure, and I let it get to me. That wasn’t fair to you. You’ve been working hard, and I should’ve recognized that.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice softer now. “That means a lot.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between us melting away. As the meal went on, we started to relax, trading small talk about work and life. Yoongi even ordered a bottle of wine, and soon we were sipping glasses of it, the conversation growing lighter.

For the first time, it felt like I was seeing a different side of him, one that wasn’t guarded or buried in his work. And for a moment, it was easy to forget the weight of the studio, the deadlines, and everything else that had been hanging over us.

By the end of the night, my cheeks ached from laughing, a rare, warm contentment spreading through me. Yoongi had surprised me, not just with his apology, but with the way he let his guard down, even if just a little. Maybe he wasn’t as closed off as I’d assumed. Maybe there was more to him than I’d ever expected.

As we stepped outside the restaurant, the crisp night air greeted us. "Hey, you can’t drive now since you’ve had a drink," I said, glancing at Yoongi. "Should we call a taxi or something? Or maybe Hobi? I saw his stories, he was bored at home, he could probably come pick us up."

Yoongi’s expression shifted, and he immediately shook his head. "No," he said, his voice firm. "I’ll handle it. I’m calling Jihoon." I raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment but let it slide. The warmth from the alcohol in my system faded quickly, leaving me shivering slightly in the cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stave off the chill.

Yoongi noticed. “It’s getting cold,” he said, almost to himself. Before I could respond, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders.

The unexpected gesture made me pause. The weight of the jacket and the faint scent of his cologne caught me off guard. I looked up at him, my eyes wide. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I said softly.

He waved it off. “It’s fine. I’m not cold.”

I tilted my head, sceptical. “Really? Your hands must be freezing,” I said, blowing warm air over my own hands and rubbing them together in a futile attempt to warm them.

Yoongi’s eyes flicked to my hands, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he reached out, wrapping his hands gently over mine. The sudden warmth of his touch stopped me in my tracks.

His hands were warm, enveloping mine completely. I glanced up at him, startled. He didn’t say anything, his gaze locked on mine, intense yet unreadable. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us standing there, connected by something unspoken.

My breath hitched, the moment heavy with tension neither of us dared to break. But before it could go any further, the sound of a taxi pulling up snapped us back to reality.

“Jihoon’s here,” Yoongi said, his voice steady as he stepped back, letting my hands go.

I quickly pulled my hands behind my back, hiding the tingling warmth that lingered from his touch. Jihoon stepped out of the car, waving casually as he approached.

“Thanks for coming,” Yoongi said, handing him the keys to his car.

“No problem,” Jihoon replied with a grin. “You guys look like you had a good night.”

Yoongi nodded and gestured for me to get in the backseat. He opened the door for me, waiting until I was seated before climbing in beside me.

The ride was quiet, with Jihoon humming along to the radio in the front seat. I stared out the window, my thoughts swirling as I replayed the events of the night. The warmth of Yoongi’s jacket around my shoulders and the memory of his hands over mine lingered, leaving me more confused than ever.

Unable to resist, I flicked my gaze toward him. His profile was sharp in the dim light, the strong line of his jaw catching my attention. Why does he have to look like that? My eyes drifted downward, landing on his hands resting casually on his lap. Those veiny, capable hands that had so effortlessly wrapped around mine earlier.

My face grew warm as I recalled the moment, a rush of heat spreading through me. Embarrassed by my own thoughts, I quickly snapped my gaze back to the window, determined not to look at him again for the rest of the ride. ‘Focus on something else, anything else,’ I told myself, even as my heart stubbornly refused to settle. When we pulled up in front of my place, Jihoon parked smoothly, and Yoongi stepped out of the car before I could say anything. He stood there for a moment, looking composed as ever, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“Bye,” he said simply, his voice even but low enough to make my stomach flip. “See you tomorrow.”

I managed a small smile. “Okay. Bye.”

He watched me walk to my door, and when I turned back for a second, he was already getting back into the car. Jihoon gave a small wave before driving off, leaving me standing there, suddenly alone.

Once inside, I leaned against the door, the events of the evening replaying in my mind like a whirlwind. Dinner, the jacket, his hands over mine... It was all too much. I sighed, pulling the jacket off to hang it up, only to freeze mid-motion.

“Oh no.” My voice echoed in the quiet space. His jacket. I still had it.

I grabbed my phone, typing quickly.

Me: I just realized I still have your jacket. Did you guys leave already?

His reply came faster than I expected.

Yoongi: It’s fine. You can give it back another day.

I stared at the screen, his words making me bite my lip. For a moment, I debated responding, but what else was there to say? Sighing, I put my phone down and folded the jacket neatly. The faint scent of him lingered, a mix of something warm and clean, distinctly Yoongi.

I groaned softly, shaking my head. “Don’t overthink it.”

But as I walked away, I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror, my flushed cheeks betraying my effort to play it cool. ***

The next day, everything felt smoother. The tension from the past week seemed to have evaporated, leaving behind a productive atmosphere in the studio. Yoongi and I worked through the second track effortlessly, the beats and lyrics falling into place with surprising speed. By lunchtime, we had made significant progress, and the track was nearly perfect. Yoongi gave a brief nod of approval before leaning back in his chair.

"One more to go," he said, his tone casual, but I could tell he was feeling a sense of accomplishment too.

Just then, the door to the studio opened with a loud creak, and Hoseok walked in, a grin spreading across his face as he spotted us.

"Hey, look at you two," he said, his voice light. "I come in, and it’s all quiet. Something going on huh?"

Yoongi and I exchanged a glance. "The second track is done, so we're almost there. One more track, and the album’s done."

Hoseok leaned against the doorframe, his expression softening slightly. "Damn, it’s hard to believe we’re almost there." His eyes flickered toward Yoongi, then back at me. "I’m excited, but... also a little nervous. You know, with everything happening soon."

I raised an eyebrow, curious. "What’s going on? What are you talking about?"

Hoseok sighed dramatically, walking further into the room. "Well, since you two are now so close to wrapping up, I need to tell you something." He sat down on the edge of a nearby desk, his eyes locking on me. "I’m going to the military soon."

For a moment, there was silence as I processed the information. My stomach dropped slightly as the reality of it set in. "Wait, you’re leaving already?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could think.

Hoseok smiled gently, his eyes a little softer than usual. "Yeah. It’s going to happen soon. So..." He leaned forward, his tone turning playful but with an undercurrent of something more serious. "I’m going to use that to guilt-trip you two into hanging out with me tomorrow night. I’m hosting a little get-together at my place. Come along, since you’ve worked hard on this album, you deserve a break. You know you want to. Let’s have one last hurrah before I disappear for a while."

Yoongi, who had been silent until now, looked up with a raised eyebrow. "You really think you can just guilt-trip us into going out?"

Hoseok nodded with a sly grin. "Yup. It’s my last chance to make you guys hang out with me before I go. Please?" He looked at both of us, his expression softening, almost pleading.

Yoongi shot me a glance, and I shrugged. "I mean, we’re done with the second track, so it wouldn’t hurt to let loose for a night."

Yoongi looked hesitant for a moment, but Hoseok wasn’t backing down. "Come on, it’s just one night. You can relax and have some fun. Besides, you two need a break, right?"

I chuckled, the tension in the room starting to melt. "Alright, alright. I’ll come, Hoseok. You don’t need to keep trying to guilt-trip us." Yoongi also nodded.

Hoseok’s face lit up, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Yes! That’s what I’m talking about. You won’t regret it. I’m inviting a few people, and we’ll just hang out, eat, talk, maybe play some games."

Yoongi grunted, but there was no denying the slight curve of a smile on his lips. "Fine. One night. But don’t expect us to get drunk or anything."

Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. "Who said anything about getting drunk? I just want to spend some time together, that’s all. We’re all so busy, and before you know it, I’ll be gone."

He was right. As much as we all had our own things to focus on, this was a moment to come together before everything changed. And honestly, after working so hard on the album, I could use a little time to relax.

"Alright, we’re in. What time should we be there?" I asked, already feeling a little more at ease about it.

"7 PM. Don’t be late," Hoseok said with a wink. "I’m going to make sure there’s food, so just come hungry."

"Okay," I agreed, nodding. "See you tomorrow, then."

As Hoseok left the studio, I glanced over at Yoongi, who was already back to his work. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite everything, the day had been productive, and now we were going to take some time for ourselves. I didn’t know how often I’d get moments like these, where things felt normal, light and easy.

"Guess we’re going to Hoseok’s," I said, trying to keep things casual.

Yoongi gave a small nod, his expression unreadable as always, but there was a faint sense of relaxation in his posture. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered again, almost as if to convince himself.

***

The next day, Yoongi and I had somehow hit a streak, two days in a row of working together without any tension. We finished everything we had planned for the day, and as the evening rolled around, we were both in a surprisingly good mood.

As the last song for the day played out, I looked up from my computer and caught Yoongi’s eye.

"Guess that’s a wrap for today," I said, stretching out my arms. "See you at the party, yeah?"

Yoongi gave me a small nod, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, see you there."

I stood up to grab my things, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. It had been a long time since we’d gotten along this well, and I wasn’t going to overthink it. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a chance to relax.

"Try not to get too drunk," I teased lightly as I started toward the door.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "Could say the same thing to you.” "Uh-huh," I shot back, laughing as I left the room. "Sure."

As I walked out, I could feel the lightness in my step. For once, it felt like things were moving in the right direction. The night ahead felt full of possibilities, even if it was just hanging out with the rest of the team.

When I got home, I quickly changed into something casual, not wanting to overdo it for Hoseok’s party. I kept it simple, a pair of jeans and a loose top. Around 7 PM, I made my way to Hoseok’s place, and when I arrived, I found the others already there.

The atmosphere was warm and relaxed, the smell of food filling the air. The place was buzzing with laughter and easy conversation. I caught sight of Yoongi sitting at the corner of the room, his usual calm demeanour in place, but there was something different about him tonight. His hair was styled, and the black shirt he was wearing seemed to fit him just right, accentuating his broad shoulders. There was an easy confidence in his posture, and as I studied him for a moment, I realized he looked… hot.

I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to get caught staring. The last thing I needed was to get all flustered over him again. I turned my attention to the rest of the room and spotted Hoseok in the middle of a conversation with a few other guests. He seemed to be doing his usual thing, laughing and talking animatedly, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to interrupt just yet.

Instead, I made my way over to where Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were chatting near the food table. They were all mid-laugh when I approached, and Jungkook waved me over with a grin.

“Y/N! Come join us, we were just talking about the new choreography for a music video,” he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Oh? What is it about this choreography?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Taehyung leaned in with a mischievous grin. “We’re learning this really complicated move that involves, like, spinning and flipping, but it looks ridiculous when we try it,” he said, laughing.

Jimin jumped in. “Taehyung’s over-exaggerating, it’s not that bad. But we’re definitely working on something new for the next video, and it’s going to be fun.”

“Yeah, we’re going to have to rehearse a lot,” Jungkook added with a playful smirk. “Taehyung might need extra practice though,” he teased.

I chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll all manage. You guys are pros, after all.”

Taehyung pouted but then grinned again. “Yeah, but you should see us try. We look like a bunch of drunk chickens. Maybe we’ll film it for behind-the-scenes footage.”

“Please do, I’d love to see that,” I replied, laughing along with them.

As we were talking, I noticed Hoseok making his way over with a big smile on his face. He clapped his hands together and announced, “Alright, everyone, I think it’s time for a drinking game! Who’s in? It’s going to be fun, I promise!”

Jimin immediately jumped up, grinning. “I’m in! Let’s do this!”

“Count me in too,” Taehyung said, raising his hand. “I’m ready to win this game.”

I glanced at Jungkook, who gave a playful nod. “Let’s go. This should be interesting.”

With that, the four of us headed over to the designated table where the drinks were already set up. Hoseok was already grinning, ready to start the game, and I couldn’t help but feel a little excited about just having fun and not overthinking things.

The game started with some light-hearted activities, rapid-fire questions, and silly tasks that made everyone laugh. It was a great way to break the ice, and before long, we were all feeling more relaxed, enjoying the playful atmosphere.

Then, the game shifted into something a bit more daring: Love Shots. The concept was simple: when the bottle spun, it landed on a couple who had to take a shot together. The catch? You had to show the best “couple moment” before drinking.

I glanced around at everyone as the bottle spun, my heart racing a little at the thought of it landing on someone I knew. Of course, it landed on me and Hoseok first. He flashed me a grin that was as mischievous as it was charming.

"Well, looks like we're the first couple for the night, huh?" he said, winking.

I laughed and leaned in slightly. "Guess so. Let’s make this quick, yeah?"

We took our shot in sync, laughing after, and I couldn’t help but notice the way Hoseok’s eyes sparkled when he was having fun. It made me a little giddy.

The game continued, and once again, the bottle spun, this time landing on Hoseok and me again. A few people around the table groaned, teasing us about being the “official couple.” We just grinned at each other, ready for the next round.

I quickly glanced over at Yoongi, who had been quiet all night, sitting at the table but not participating. He wasn’t drinking either. His gaze was locked on Hoseok and me, and there was a strange tension in his expression. He wasn’t judging, but he wasn’t engaging either. It was hard to ignore, and I wondered if he was actually bothered by us being partnered up for the game.

Earlier, I had briefly talked to him when the game first started. I asked why he wasn’t drinking, and he had simply said, “Not feeling like it tonight.” There was something about his tone that made me want to ask more, but I didn’t push it. He wasn’t the type to open up unless he was ready.

"Alright, Y/N, it’s your turn again!" Taehyung called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.

The bottle spun again, and this time, it landed on Hoseok and me again. We both burst into laughter, but this time I noticed Yoongi’s eyes briefly flicker towards us. He didn’t look away, but he didn’t speak either. He just observed, his hands folded in front of him as the game carried on.

Hoseok, being a bit more playful, shot me a grin and said, “Guess we’re really the perfect couple, huh?”

I smirked, playing along. “Yeah, looks like I’m stuck with you, Hobi.”

We drank again, and I could feel the warmth of the alcohol creeping through me, loosening my nerves and making everything feel lighter. But despite the fun, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Yoongi’s quiet presence at the table was adding a certain weight to the game. His lack of participation made the contrast between us even more noticeable.

The game finally came to an end after what felt like hours of spinning bottles and laughing until our sides hurt. But as the night wore on, a lot of people were either passed out, waiting for their turn, or feeling too sleepy to continue. I noticed the energy in the room starting to wind down, and with work to do tomorrow, I figured it was best to leave.

I stood up, scanning the room for Hoseok. I spotted him laughing with a few of the other guests, his eyes bright and full of energy despite the late hour. I made my way over to him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey, Hobi,” I said, offering him a warm smile. “I think I’m going to head out now. I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Hoseok turned to me with a disappointed but understanding expression. “Aww, already? Well, it was really fun having you here. You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

I shook my head, grateful for the offer but knowing he had a lot of guests to attend to. “Nah, you stay and enjoy. I’ll just grab a taxi. I’ll be fine.”

Before Hoseok could respond, there was a shift in the air. Yoongi, who had been quiet all evening, stood up suddenly from his spot at the table. His voice was calm, but his words caught us both off guard.

“I’m leaving. I’ll take Y/N with me,” he said, tone firm but casual.

The room fell a bit quieter at his declaration. Hoseok blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting Yoongi to step in. There was an unspoken tension as we all stood there for a moment, unsure of how to react.

I quickly turned to Hoseok, offering him one last smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Thanks for everything tonight.”

Hoseok smiled back, still a little surprised by Yoongi’s sudden intervention, but he nodded. “Alright, take care. See you soon.”

I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before I quickly made my way toward the door, following Yoongi. I couldn’t help but feel a little flustered. What just happened? Why did Yoongi suddenly decide to take me home?

“Yoongi, wait up!” I called out, catching up to him as he made his way outside.

Yoongi was already ahead, his long strides purposeful. When I caught up with him, I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Yoongi… you didn’t have to do this, you know…”

He didn’t look at me as he continued walking, but his voice was calm. “It’s fine. You’re not going to take a taxi alone this late. It’s safer this way.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I stopped myself. There was something in the way he said it that made me not want to push back. Instead, I just followed him outside, the cool night air brushing against my skin as we made our way to the car.

I had no idea what this meant, or what was running through Yoongi’s mind, but for now, I was just grateful that he had decided to take me home.

The drive back home was quiet but comfortable, with only the hum of the car filling the space between us. It wasn’t awkward, though. There was something peaceful about it, something unspoken that made the silence feel easy.

When we arrived at my apartment block, Yoongi stepped out of the car first, walking around to open the door for me.

“Thanks,” I said softly, already preparing to say my goodbyes as I stepped out.

But before I could, Yoongi spoke up, his tone surprisingly serious. “Actually… Can I have my jacket back?”

I blinked in confusion, not entirely sure I’d heard him right. “Seriously?” I asked, laughing a little at the unexpected request. “You’re really asking for it back now?”

He glanced at me with a small shrug, his eyes hiding whatever thoughts were going through his mind. “It’s cold,” he said simply.

I let out a sigh. “Okay, follow me. I took it from the dry cleaners today, and I was planning on bringing it to you tomorrow.”

I stepped inside my apartment, Yoongi following and standing halfway between the living room and the corridor. I quickly scanned the room, searching for the bag with the jacket in it. The silence stretched on as I fumbled through a few things, but Yoongi broke it, his voice unexpectedly blunt.

“So, you and Hobi, huh?”

I paused for a second, confused by the sudden shift in the conversation. “What about me and Hobi?”

“Well, all the dinners, the flirting today with the love shots… is there anything I should know about?” His gaze was steady, but I could see something flicker in his eyes.

I shook my head, trying to keep my tone light. “No, we’re just friends. He’s actually a nice person who respects me and my work.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just me overthinking things, but Yoongi’s next words caught me off guard. “But I thought these past few days we were on good terms as well.”

I felt a little defensive at that. “But I’m not working with Hobi. I’m not under a contract with him.”

Yoongi didn’t seem satisfied. “Besides all that, I still felt like we could be more than just coworkers.”

I blinked, not sure if I understood him right. “What? Do you want us to be friends?” I joked, trying to deflect the tension.

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed slightly, but I continued “Do you even hear yourself right now? If I had told Min Yoongi two months ago that he’d be asking me to be friends, he would’ve laughed in my face.”

Yoongi’s expression darkened for a moment. “Hell no, I don’t want to be friends with you.”

I crossed my arms, trying to hide the sudden heat rising to my cheeks. “Pff, then I don’t want to be friends with you either,” I shot back, scoffing. “Besides, you’re the one who brought it up in the first place. You were the one sulking about me being friends with Hobi and not with you.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with irritation. “I’m not sulking because you are friends with him, I am because you are close to a guy that’s not me.” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it.

“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.

Yoongi took a step closer, his expression darkening. “Let’s cut the crap. You’re telling me that after everything that’s been happening these past two months, the tension, the lingering touches… you never felt anything?” His eyes were locked onto mine, searching for something in them.

My breath hitched in my throat, but before I could respond, he continued. “And after what happened at Hobi’s birthday party… you didn’t move away from me. Hell, you were practically begging me to kiss you with the way you were looking at me. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it too.”

I froze, my mind racing, trying to process his words. I hadn’t expected him to bring up that night, let alone accuse me of anything. My pulse quickened as I searched his face, unsure of what to say. Yoongi watched me closely, waiting for my response, but all I could do was stare at him, caught in the web of his words.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, stepping back slightly, trying to play it cool, but my heart was pounding in my chest. Yoongi’s gaze was intense, his expression unreadable, and I couldn’t help but feel exposed under the weight of his words. Was he serious? Was I imagining all of this? I didn’t want to admit it, but everything he said was starting to make sense, whether I liked it or not.

Yoongi didn’t seem satisfied with my denial. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine with a new intensity. “Oh really?” he murmured, his voice low and steady, but there was a hint of something sharper in it now. “Then tell me to stop.”

Before I could process the situation, before I could even think about what to say, he was on me. His lips crashed into mine with a sudden force that caught me off guard. The kiss was hard, desperate, as if he was trying to prove something to both of us. His hands gripped my arms firmly, pulling me in closer.

For a few seconds, I froze, not sure how to respond. His lips moved against mine with an urgency that made my mind race, but my body just… didn’t react. I couldn’t. My heart was beating so fast, my thoughts tangled in confusion. Was this real? Was he really kissing me?

Yoongi pulled back suddenly, his hands dropping from my arms. He stepped away, his expression flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. His breathing was heavier now, and he seemed to be searching for something in my eyes, a sign, maybe, of whether or not I felt the same.

“I— maybe I misunderstood,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice quieter, as if the weight of his actions was suddenly dawning on him.

His words trailed off into a shaky breath, and for a moment, it felt like the room held its breath, everything hanging in the air between us. I stood there, wide-eyed, my lips tingling from the kiss, not knowing how to process what had just happened.

Yoongi’s eyes flicked to the ground for a second, and he muttered a curse under his breath. “Fuck…I’m sorry… I actually thought…” He cut himself off, looking at me like he was trying to gauge my reaction, like he was waiting for me to say something, anything.

The silence between us stretched on, thick and heavy, and I could feel my chest tightening with every passing second. I couldn’t let him walk away thinking he had made a mistake. I couldn’t just stand there and let this moment slip away.

Without even thinking, I stepped forward, my hands shaking slightly, but I reached for him. I grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him closer to me until there was no space left between us. My heart was still racing, but this time, there was no hesitation. I kissed him back, pressing my lips to his with the same urgency that he had given me.

Yoongi stiffened at first, but after a second, he responded, his hands coming up to cup my face as he kissed me back. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His kiss was deep, full of everything he hadn’t said, all the things that had been building up between us. His lips moved against mine, his fingers threading into my hair as he pulled me closer, if that was even possible.

I could feel the heat of his body against mine, the way his heart seemed to be racing just as fast as mine. The world outside of us faded, and for the first time in a long time, all I could think about was him, Yoongi, and this moment we were sharing.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless, I was left reeling. My mind was spinning, but there was something in the way Yoongi looked at me, something that made it all feel right, even if it didn’t quite make sense yet. I took a step back, trying to catch my breath, still processing everything that had just happened. "What’s happening?" I asked softly, my voice a little unsteady. "Are you sure tomorrow you're not just going to act like none of this happened?"

Yoongi didn’t say anything right away. He seemed to be weighing my words carefully, like he was searching for the right response.

Then, he took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us once more. His eyes were intense, but there was a softness in them now, something that made me feel like I wasn’t just some passing thought. "Nah," Yoongi finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "Let me show you how much I've been stopping myself from anything happening."

Before I could process his words, his hands were on me again, pulling me back toward him with an urgency that caught me off guard. He kissed me again, this time it wasn’t rushed, but full of something more than just desire.

Yoongi’s hands were gentle yet firm as he backed me toward the living room, the heat of his body practically radiating against mine. I could feel my pulse quicken with every step he took. When my backside finally met the armrest of the sofa, a shock of electricity shot through me, my heart hammering in my chest.

He didn’t give me a moment to breathe before his hands were on me again, this time lifting me effortlessly, laying me down onto the sofa. I gasped slightly as I landed, and Yoongi followed, his body pressing over mine, his presence suffocating in the best way.

His eyes never left mine, and the way he hovered above me, his weight just barely touching me, made my stomach twist with anticipation. "Are you gonna tell me to stop, Y/N?" Yoongi's voice was rough, but there was something almost challenging in it. He leaned in slightly, the tip of his nose grazing mine as he waited for my response. "Or are you actually gonna admit how much you want this? That this is actually happening."

I swallowed hard, my mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. I was caught between every instinct screaming at me to push him away, to stop this before it went any further, and another side of me that wanted to give in, to feel everything he was offering without hesitation.

His lips hovered just inches from mine, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, making my heart race. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I just looked at him, trying to understand what this all meant.

The silence between us was almost suffocating now, the tension thick as I weighed my next move. Yoongi didn’t pull away, didn’t pressure me further. He just waited, giving me space, but still holding me in place with that unyielding gaze of his.

For a moment, I thought I might choke on the words I wanted to say. But the truth was, I already knew. I couldn’t deny it anymore.

"I—" My voice faltered, and I quickly cleared my throat, suddenly feeling exposed. "I want this," I admitted, the words coming out breathlessly, almost as if they were ripped from me. It was scary, letting the truth hang in the air between us, but it felt... necessary.

Yoongi’s eyes softened, just a little. He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine once more, but this time, it wasn’t a question. It was an answer, his answer to everything we had left unsaid.

Despite the clothes still between us, I wrapped my legs around his body, pulling him closer, craving more of the intimacy building between us. Yoongi’s voice was low and dripping with desire as he whispered, “Good, because I’ve been dying to know how you taste…”

Smirking, he lowered himself further, letting his breath ghost over my pants. My heart raced as I gave him a silent nod, granting permission. Slowly, he unzipped them, his movements deliberate and teasing. My breath hitched as he slid my pants down my legs, throwing them on the floor. Just as he hooked a finger under my panties to remove them, I gently stopped his hand.

“Wait…” I whispered, my voice shaky. Gathering what little confidence I had, I added, “It’s only fair you lose a piece of clothing too.”

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. “Desperate to see me naked already, Y/N?” he teased.

“Huh, you’re the one who just claimed you’ve been dying to know how I—”

Before I could finish, Yoongi silenced me with a kiss, his lips rough and insistent, leaving me breathless. His tongue swept against mine, teeth grazing in just the right way. When he finally pulled back to let us catch our breath, he reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head. Smirking, he stood before me, his torso now bare, revealing his defined muscles despite the soft lines of his body.

“There. Happy now?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

This man. Such a tease.

“Much better,” I quipped with a smirk of my own.

“Now, let me finish what I started,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine. “Let you experience my famous tongue technology...…” His lips quirked into a mischievous smile as he lowered himself between my thighs, his hands trailing down to hook under the waistband of my panties. He slipped them down with tantalizing slowness, his fingers brushing against my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Who calls—” I started, but the words dissolved into a gasp as his tongue made its first bold stroke, fast and deliberate, over my folds. My head fell back against the sofa, a moan escaping before I could even think to stop it.

He didn’t give me time to recover. His tongue moved again, sweeping over me with precision, eliciting another sharp cry. Each stroke was firm, purposeful, and maddeningly good. My body arched into him, instinctively chasing the pleasure he so expertly provided.

“Yoongi,” I managed to whisper, my voice shaky and strained, but he didn’t respond, not with words at least. Instead, his lips and tongue continued their relentless exploration, the wet heat of his mouth driving me to the edge of reason.

My hands shot to his hair, my fingers tangling in the soft strands, pulling lightly, not to guide him, but to ground myself. His name fell from my lips in fragmented pleas, each one blending into the next. His low hum of approval vibrated against me, sending an electric shock straight to my core.

He reached for one of my knees, pushing it further aside to open me up to him completely. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the shift only deepened the intensity of his attention. His tongue flicked, swirled, and teased, hitting every spot that made my body tremble.

The room was thick with the sound of my ragged breathing and unrestrained moans. Each cry seemed to fuel him, urging him on as his pace quickened. I gripped his hair tighter, the sensation building with every stroke. A hand reached for his shoulder, my nails grazing the smooth heat of his skin.

“Yoongi…” I whimpered, my voice shaky and raw, a desperate plea in the form of his name.

He pulled back briefly, his lips glistening as he looked up at me with a devilish smirk. “That was to answer your question,” he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips, collecting anything he’d missed, and the sight alone sent another wave of heat through me.

I couldn’t let him have the upper hand, not entirely. Tugging at his hair, I directed him back between my thighs. “Less talking,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, “more doing.”

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating against me as he dove back in without hesitation. This time, his movements were even more determined, his tongue working with an intensity that made me cry out. My body writhed against him, my breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps as I clung to him, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through me.

Yoongi’s hands gripped my thighs firmly, keeping me in place as he worked his magic. His tongue alternated between long, teasing strokes and quick, precise flicks, sending me spiraling closer to the edge.

He was relentless, unyielding, and devastatingly good. Too good. If he could do this with just his tongue, the thought of what else he could do made my head spin. The heat pooling low in my belly grew hotter, tighter, until it felt like I might combust.

“Yoongi,” I gasped, my voice breaking as my body tensed beneath his touch. “I think I’m gonna—”

“Cum on my mouth, baby,” he murmured against me, his voice low and commanding, the vibrations sending me over the edge.

I shattered, my release hitting me like a tidal wave. My back arched, my head falling back as his name tore from my lips in a broken cry. My vision blurred, and for a moment, all I could feel was the overwhelming heat of pleasure washing over me.

He didn’t stop, his tongue continuing to lap at me, drawing out every last tremor until I was trembling beneath him. When he finally pulled back, his face was smug, his lips glistening as he swiped his tongue over them again.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he murmured, and my cheeks flushed at his confession. How many times had this man fantasized about this? It wasn’t like I hadn’t entertained some dirty thoughts over the past weeks, but hearing him say it out loud, so unabashedly, felt different.

Before I could reply, Yoongi leaned back up and kissed me passionately, sharing the taste of myself on his lips. The kiss was deep and consuming, his tongue sweeping over mine with deliberate slowness. Then he trailed wet kisses down to my neck, biting softly, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make a point. It was possessive in the most exciting way.

As he toyed with the hem of my shirt, I decided to turn the tables. My hands moved to the waistband of his pants undoing his zipper. He froze for a moment, his eyes wide, searching mine. “Y/N… you don’t have to. Just because—”

“I want to,” I interrupted, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. His breath escaped in a shaky exhale at my words.

“Besides,” I teased, leaning in closer, my lips brushing against his ear, “let me show you what other sounds these hands can produce.”

I bit my bottom lip as I pulled his pants down completely, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. My hand brushed over him, his length already hard and straining against the fabric. My fingers lightly grazed over him, stroking just enough to tease. Yoongi hissed, a mix of pleasure and frustration.

“Y/N… don’t tease me,” he groaned, his voice thick with need.

“Me? Tease you?” I feigned innocence, grinning up at him as my hand continued its slow, deliberate motions. He let out a shaky breath, his hips instinctively bucking toward my touch.

I leaned up to capture his lips again, all while my hand maintained its slow, torturous rhythm. “Y/N…” Yoongi moaned, the sound low and drawn out. With that, I tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach. My hand wrapped around him, the heat and hardness startling me for a moment. Pre-cum was already dripping from his tip, and I swiped my thumb over it, spreading it along his length as he trembled beneath my touch.

His hips instinctively bucked forward, chasing the friction as a low groan escaped his lips. My fingers moved deliberately, starting with slow, measured strokes that made his thighs tense beneath me.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely above a whisper, a strained mixture of need and restraint.

I leaned forward, brushing a kiss along his jawline before murmuring, “Relax.” My breath was hot against his skin, and I could feel the shudder it sent through his body.

One hand worked up and down his length, my palm twisting slightly with each stroke, while the other cupped and teased his balls, massaging them gently. His body responded to every touch, his muscles taut and trembling as he fought to stay in control.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his brows furrowed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his chest heaved with uneven breaths.

The intimacy of it all had my own heart racing, my body reacting to the sight of him unraveling beneath me. My hand picked up speed, stroking him faster and firmer, my thumb gliding over his sensitive tip with each pass.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice rough and breathless.

“Good,” I teased, leaning in to kiss his collarbone, my lips trailing over the sharp lines of his neck. “That’s the idea.”

His hips lifted again, chasing the rhythm of my hand. His groans deepened, each one more desperate than the last. The sounds he made were intoxicating, sending heat pooling low in my belly.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice cracking slightly. One of his hands reached out, gripping my thigh tightly as though he needed something to anchor himself.

Yoongi eyes fluttered open, locking onto mine with a fiery intensity. “I’m—”

“I know,” I cut him off softly, my hand never slowing.

His half-lidded eyes met mine, his skin glistening with sweat. “Where…?” he managed to ask, his voice barely audible.

I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I went to my knees and opened my mouth, holding his gaze. His expression faltered for a split second, a mix of desperation and awe flashing across his face.

Yoongi adjusted slightly, taking his cock in his own hand, his body hovering over mine, and with a few more strokes, he spilled into my mouth. I took everything, swallowing it down as I maintained eye contact. His breathing was ragged, and I could feel the slight tremble in his legs as I kissed the tip of his cock, making sure nothing was left behind.

When it was over, he sank down, his body pressing against mine. His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply, as if he couldn’t get enough.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against my shoulder, his voice soft but filled with satisfaction. “Fuck, you’re incredible.” Yoongi’s hand trailed lazily across my skin, finding the thin strap of my bra under my shirt. “Next time,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “I’ll make sure you’re not wearing anything at all.”

He hooked a finger under the strap, pulling it slightly before letting it snap back against my skin with a soft smack. I gasped, half-laughing, and swatted at his chest, but he just grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

With a satisfied sigh, he stood up, stretching slightly before scanning the room. His pants and boxers lay crumpled on the floor a few steps away. “As much as I love this view,” he teased, casting a lingering look at me sprawled on the sofa now, “we might want to at least partially dress before someone accidentally walks in.” Rolling my eyes, even though I lived alone, I reached down to grab my panties, slipping them on with a quick movement. “Happy now?” I quipped, arching an eyebrow as he smirked at me.

“Not entirely,” he shot back smoothly, already heading to the smaller sofa across the room. He grabbed the folded blanket and returned to the larger couch where I laid, tossing it over us as he sat back down and pulled me toward him.

“And why is that?” I teased, arching a brow as I snuggled into his chest.

He smirked, his arms wrapping securely around me as he scooped me into a comfortable position against him. His warmth enveloped me, and I felt myself relaxing despite my teasing words.

“Because, I’ve been messing up so far,” he said, his voice soft but firm, “ but I’m not letting you go away this time.”

I blinked, startled by the quiet sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t just a playful remark; it felt like a promise, one that made my heart flutter and my chest tighten all at once.

“You’re stuck with me now, Y/N,” he added, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Hope you can handle that.”

I couldn’t help but smile, burying my face against his chest to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. “We’ll see,” I replied softly, my voice muffled away.

For the first time in a long while, I felt safe. Wrapped in his arms, I allowed myself to close my eyes, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace.

***

The next morning, I woke up to an unsettling emptiness. The warmth of Yoongi’s embrace from last night was gone, replaced by the coolness of the sofa beneath me. Disoriented, I blinked against the soft morning light streaming through the curtains. Everything about last night had felt surreal—like the universe had finally shifted into place. But now, as I sat up and looked around the room, it all felt like a dream.

My gaze darted to the floor, where his shirt had been tossed haphazardly, and the hallway where his shoes had been kicked off. They were gone. Every trace of him had vanished. A sinking feeling settled in my chest.

Did he regret this? Was it a mistake for him?

I couldn’t stop the questions from flooding my mind, each one louder and more insistent than the last. For me, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not even close. Last night had been a moment of pure, unfiltered connection, a night that felt like it had shattered every barrier between us.

But had it meant the same to him?

Frustration began to bubble up, mixed with a touch of anger. If he had regrets, he should’ve said something. Leaving like this? That was low.

Determined not to let him get away with it, I marched to my room, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a casual shirt. If he thought he could disappear without a word, he had another thing coming. The moment I was tugging on my shoes, ready to storm out and demand answers, my phone buzzed on the coffee table.

I snatched it up, my frustration spilling over as I saw Minji’s name on the screen. Great, this better not be about work, I thought as I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I said curtly.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Minji’s tone was brisk but edged with concern.

“What do you mean?” I asked, more annoyed than curious.

Minji sighed heavily on the other end. “That’s good. You’re fine. I was worried for a second. Didn’t you hear? Someone raided HYBE last night. A crazy fan broke in and they believe they were trying to expose Suga’s album.”

“What?” I froze, my heart skipping a beat as her words sank in.

“Yeah, it’s all over the news this morning. Security’s gone into overdrive,” Minji continued. “Anyway, just wanted to check if you were caught up in any of it.”

“I have to go,” I said abruptly, hanging up before she could respond.

My mind raced. If HYBE had been raided and rumours about Yoongi’s album were true, then that meant he must be there. I grabbed my car keys and drove as fast as I could, keeping just within the speed limits. My mind buzzed with thoughts about Yoongi and everything Minji had said. Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of HYBE.

I stepped inside, my pulse quickening as I made my way through the familiar halls. When I reached the studio, I stopped in my tracks. Yoongi was pacing back and forth, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. He hadn’t noticed me yet, too absorbed in his conversation.

“Please make sure they’re caught and thoroughly questioned about what they saw,” he said, his tone firm but composed. Whoever he was speaking to replied, but I couldn’t make out the words.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know we had contracts here. Honestly, I don’t care about the album, it’s going to get released soon anyway. What matters is that Producer K’s information stays protected. Make sure no sensitive details leak, okay?” He paused to listen again. “Alright. Call me as soon as you have any updates.”

As he ended the call, his gaze finally landed on me. I was frozen in place, trying to process the past 24 hours, the intimacy, the sudden emptiness when I woke up, and now this chaos.

“Hey,” I said, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”

Yoongi’s expression softened when he saw me, but the stress in his posture remained. He sighed and motioned for me to sit down, but I stayed standing, waiting for answers.

“Someone broke into HYBE last night,” he began, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “They managed to get into a secure area. Luckily, nothing was taken, at least nothing physical, but there’s still a risk of leaks.”

I blinked, processing his words. “So… this morning—”

He cut me off with a sheepish smile. “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve woken you up, but you looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you. When I got the call, I panicked. I didn’t even think, I just grabbed my stuff and rushed over here. I had to make sure everything was locked down. The NDAs, your information, everything. But I think we’re okay. Nothing seems to have been compromised.”

My chest loosened at his explanation, relief washing over me. “So… you didn’t leave because you regretted it?” My voice came out quieter than I intended. “It felt like… maybe you didn’t care about anything that happened yesterday.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, and he stepped closer to me, closing the distance between us in just a few strides. “Ahh, baby,” he said, his tone filled with disbelief. “Are you kidding me? How could I ever regret it?”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, soft and lingering. The kiss was brief, but the warmth of it stayed with me. As he pulled back, he smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. Without another word, he scooped me up effortlessly, his hands firm on my thighs as he lifted me.

“Yoongi!” I squealed, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he teased, his smirk deepening as he carried me toward the door. My back pressed against it as he gently pushed me, one of his hands leaving my body just long enough to twist the lock. The soft click echoed in the quiet room. His eyes flickered with something darker, more intense, as he leaned in closer.

“And don’t even think about doubting me again,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

Before I could respond, Yoongi moved us again, carrying me to the producer’s table, the one we’d spent countless hours working on together. He placed me on top of it, the cold surface pressing against my thighs. My body shifted slightly, the edge of the keyboard beneath me accidentally activating a few buttons with soft clicks and beeps.

A mischievous smirk spread across his face as he leaned over me, caging me in with his arms on either side. “Looks like we’re making more music, Producer K,” he teased, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

Immediately his lips captured mine, soft and demanding all at once. The kiss deepened almost instantly, his hand threading into my hair to tilt my head for better access. I gasped against his mouth as his other hand slid down, gripping my waist firmly to keep me anchored to him.

The kiss was electric, slow, and yet so full of intensity it left me breathless. His tongue brushed against mine, coaxing me into a rhythm that made my heart race. My hands found their way to his shoulders, then slid up behind his neck, pulling him even closer.

Yoongi let out a low hum of approval, the sound vibrating against my lips. The tension in the room grew thicker with every passing second. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, tugging gently before he soothed it with another kiss.

“You taste soo good,” he whispered against my mouth, his breath warm and tantalizing. He kissed me again, harder this time, as though he was trying to erase any lingering doubts from my mind.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” I asked, my voice laced with impatience and desire. Enough with the teasing, I wanted him, here and now.

A smirk played on his lips as he looked at me. “Yes, right here on this table,” he murmured, his voice deep and full of promise. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”

Slowly he reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. His dark eyes lingered on me as he kept his promise from the night before. He leaned down, gently biting one of my bra straps and pulling it down with his teeth, the act equal parts sensual and possessive. Then his hand slid the other strap off my shoulder, his fingers brushing over my skin in a way that sent shivers racing down my spine.

His hands unclasped my bra, letting it fall away completely. The cool air of the room ghosted over my now-bare skin, goosebumps forming in its wake. His gaze was hungry, appreciative, as he took me in.

He didn’t waste a moment, cupping both of my breasts in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, teasing them until they hardened under his touch. Leaning in, he wrapped his lips around one, his tongue swirling and flicking while his other hand kneaded the other.

A soft moan escaped my lips as my hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. My legs around his waist instinctively pull his body closer and flush against mine. The hardness of his arousal pressed against my clothed core, teasing me further.

Yoongi groaned softly against my skin, his breath hot as he alternated between kissing and sucking on my sensitive flesh. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his lips glistening as he grinned down at me.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. He stood upright and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion.

The sight of his toned chest and the way his muscles moved as he tossed the shirt aside made my breath hitch. My hands instinctively trailed over his bare skin, feeling the heat of him beneath my palms.

He proceeded to slide my pants down along with my panties in one smooth motion, leaving me bare beneath him. My cheeks flushed as I turned my head to the side, shying away from his gaze. The reality of the moment hit me, this was happening, in the studio no less. Something I had never done before, especially not with a co-worker. I had always been professional, keeping clear boundaries. But Yoongi? He was different. He was so much more.

Before my thoughts could spiral further, two of his fingers gently grasped my chin, tilting my face back toward him. His dark eyes softened as they met mine, a faint smile curling his lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine adoration.

He leaned down and kissed me deeply, his lips moving against mine with a passion that made me forget all my worries. When he pulled away, I was left breathless, my body trembling.

Without breaking eye contact, he stepped back and slid his boxers down, his cock springing free in a way that had my stomach tightening with need. He reached into a nearby drawer, pulling out a condom. The sight of him, so confident and focused, made my mouth water.

I whimpered softly, my body arching toward him. “Please…” I whispered, my voice trembling with desperation.

Yoongi smirked at my plea as he rolled the condom over his length slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. He moved closer, his cock teasing my entrance as he pressed the tip against me, applying just enough pressure to drive me wild.

Then he pulled back, a devilish grin on his lips.

“Yoongi!” I cried out, my hands gripping his shoulders in frustration. Yoongi chuckled softly at my frustration, his deep voice resonating in the quiet studio. “Patience, baby,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I want to savour this.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but my body was anything but patient. My legs tightened around his hips, trying to draw him closer. He gave in just a little, letting his tip press further against my entrance, his cock teasing me.

“Please…” I whimpered again, my voice trembling.

“God, you’re so needy,” he murmured, but there was no mockery in his tone, only a mixture of desire and affection. He pressed forward slightly, just enough to stretch me, and the sensation made my breath hitch.

He paused, his hand brushing over my cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his gaze searching mine.

“Yes,” I breathed, nodding. “I need you, Yoongi… all of you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Slowly, he pushed into me, his cock filling me inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming in the best way, an exquisite mix of pleasure and pressure that made me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he slid himself fully inside me, both of us pausing to catch our breaths.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his head dropping to my shoulder. His lips brushed against my skin, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as he began to move.

The first few thrusts were slow and deliberate, his hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that made me lose all sense of time and place. My moans filled the room, blending with the soft sounds of his breathless grunts and the quiet creak of the table beneath us.

“Yoongi…” I gasped, my hands sliding down to his waist to pull him closer. His movements grew more intense, each thrust hitting deeper, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.

His hand slid down to my thigh, lifting it higher to change the angle, and the new position made me cry out. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”

I clung to him, my body arching into his as the tension built to an unbearable peak. Every movement, every touch, was driving me closer to the edge. His name fell from my lips in a breathless chant, and I could feel his body tensing too, his control slipping with each passing second.

“I’m close,” I managed to gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pressed my forehead against his.

“Not so fast…” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. In one swift motion, he pulled out completely, leaving me trembling and desperate for more. He grabbed my hips, pulling me down and guiding me to turn around. His hand on my back guided me to lean forward, making my chest press against the cool surface of the studio desk. I tried to make myself stable, hands roaming over the desk for support when I accidentally hit a button on the keyboard that sounded like the recording audio one.

“Yoongi, I think I—”

“Leave it on,” he growled, his voice dripping with lust. His hands ran down my sides, gripping my hips firmly as he aligned himself behind me. Without another word, he thrust into me again, harder this time, making me cry out in surprise and pleasure.

The new angle was overwhelming, his movements fast and relentless, each thrust sending shockwaves through my body. My hands scrambled for something better to hold on to, finding the edge of the desk as I felt my climax building faster than ever before.

“Yoongi,” I moaned, my voice trembling. “I’m going to—”

“Me too,” he groaned, his pace quickening. His fingers tightened on my hips, pulling me back to meet every thrust.

The tension inside me snapped like a rubber band, and I shattered around him, a cry escaping my lips as waves of pleasure consumed me. His name fell from my lips in broken gasps, my body trembling with the force of my release.

“Fuck,” Yoongi hissed behind me, his movements growing erratic as he followed me over the edge. With a low groan, he stilled, his hands gripping me tightly as he emptied himself into the condom.

We stayed silent for a moment, both of us catching our breaths as the studio filled with the sound of our laboured breathing. Yoongi’s hand slid up my back, his touch gentle now as he leaned down to press a soft kiss between my shoulders.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice softer than before, filled with a mix of affection and satisfaction.

I turned my head slightly to glance at him, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the lingering haze of pleasure. “You’re pretty perfect yourself,” I replied breathlessly.

His lips quirked into a smirk as he helped me straighten up, his hands still lingering on my waist. “You keep driving me crazy when there’s work to be done,” he said, his voice still low, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Work?” I teased, arching an eyebrow.

We both laughed softly, the tension replaced by a comfortable warmth as we started dressing up together. After fixing ourselves up, Yoongi and I sat back at the desk, quietly adjusting to the shift from intimacy to professionalism.

A sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. My eyes widened as I glanced at the screen. The red "REC" light was still blinking, the audio still rolling.

"Wait," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but my heart was racing. "Yoongi... the recording…"

Yoongi's gaze followed mine to the screen.

I stifled a laugh, trying to process the situation. "We... we didn’t just—"

"We did," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he reached for the mouse, clicking the stop button on the recording. The sudden silence felt almost louder than the chaos that had just unfolded.

There was a long pause before either of us spoke, and then Yoongi burst into a fit of laughter, the tension completely evaporating. "I can't believe you hit the record by accident," he said between chuckles, shaking his head. "That’s... that's going to be something to remember."

I shook my head, laughing despite the embarrassment that was slowly creeping in. "Oh my god, I didn’t mean to! What if—what if someone listens to that? You have to delete it…"

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, still chuckling. "Relax, I’m pretty sure the only one who’s ever going to hear that is you... and maybe me, when I’m in need of some... inspiration."

I shot him a mock glare. "You’re terrible."

But the laughter between us continued, as if we’d both just acknowledged the absurdity of it all. "Alright, alright," I said, regaining some composure. "So, do we actually erase it... or keep it as a very private memory?"

Yoongi eyed the screen for a moment, a playful glint in his eyes. "I think we keep it," he said with a smirk. "Just in case we ever need to prove who’s really in charge around here."

I raised an eyebrow, a challenge in my smile. "I still have to work with you..."

Yoongi leaned closer, his smirk widening. "We can always record something else to balance it out."

My face flushed again, but this time, it was the shared humour that made the tension feel lighter. The teasing, the jokes, the way we were able to slip back into this comfortable space of banter, it made the moment feel normal again. *** As time passed, Yoongi and I quietly navigated our secret relationship, keeping things low-key while indulging in countless late-night dates after work. Between stolen moments in the studio, quick getaways to his place, and intimate sessions that blurred the line between work and personal time, we found our rhythm. Every touch, every kiss, every fleeting glance became a quiet promise, a bond that only grew stronger despite the secrecy. The sexual tension between us was undeniable, and we gave into it time and time again, the boundaries between us disappearing with every heated exchange. April 17 arrived, and Yoongi and I were standing in J-Hope’s living room. It was a quiet evening before the storm of emotions that would come the next day, J-Hope was leaving for the military, and Yoongi was going to see him off tomorrow. As much as I wanted to be there for the farewell, I knew I couldn’t. Not yet. My identity had to still stay hidden, my relationship with Yoongi too, at least for now.

Yoongi caught my eye from across the room, a soft smile playing at his lips as he walked over to where I was standing by the window. "You okay?" he asked quietly, concern flickering in his gaze.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the tension I felt. "Yeah, just thinking about tomorrow," I said, glancing over at J-Hope, who was still chatting with some of the others in the room. "You’re going to see him off right?"

"Of course," Yoongi replied, his voice warm but heavy with the realization that things were changing. "He’s my brother. I’m not going to let him go without saying goodbye properly."

I nodded, feeling a pang of longing. "I wish I could be there, but... you know why I can’t."

"I know," Yoongi murmured, squeezing my hand. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "It’s just... it’s tough for both of us, huh?"

I nodded again, my chest tight. "Yeah. It’s not just about J-Hope going. It’s about the secrecy, the not being able to show anyone who we are... it gets exhausting."

Before Yoongi could respond, J-Hope called out from across the room, his voice teasing. "Yoongi, Y/N! You two are awfully quiet over there. What’s going on?"

I looked up and forced a grin, trying to act casual. "Nothing, just—"

J-Hope walked over with a playful glint in his eyes, crossed his arms. "You know, I’ve always seen the tension between you two," he said with a teasing smirk. "That’s why I kept pushing Y/N to hang out with me when Yoongi was around. I had to give him a little nudge."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by J-Hope’s words. "Really? You were the one pushing her?"

I laughed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "Well, it worked, didn’t it?"

J-Hope chuckled, but his smile softened as he looked between the two of us. "I get it now. You two are like an open secret. But listen," he continued, his tone more serious, "tomorrow, when I’m gone, make sure you both take care of yourselves. Yoongi, I know you’ll look after her. And Y/N, be good to him, alright?"

I nodded, the words heavy in my chest. "I will. You just... you just be safe, okay? Come back to us soon."

Yoongi echoed my sentiment, his voice steady and sincere. "Take care of yourself, man. We’ve got your back. Always."

J-Hope smiled at us both, his eyes a mixture of gratitude and affection. "I know. Thanks, guys. I’ll miss you both."

*** The next day, after Yoongi returned from seeing J-Hope off, we somehow managed to finish the last track just before the deadline. It felt like a weight lifted off our shoulders. The album, which had been months in the making, was finally ready, set to release on April 21st with nine tracks. It was a huge achievement, and that night, we celebrated in typical Yoongi fashion, with whiskey at his place, and, well, sex. The kind of passionate, no-holds-barred kind that made me forget about the stress of the last few months.

The following days leading up to the album release were a whirlwind. We couldn't spend much time together, since Yoongi had a full schedule of promotional activities. Meanwhile, I was at home, taking the rare opportunity to relax and mentally prepare for the next project Minji had set up for me. Life was moving quickly, and I knew the grind would start again soon.

That night, as I was settling into my evening routine, my phone buzzed with a notification. Yoongi's live stream was about to start. He had mentioned earlier that his company would have him livestream his full album for his fans to celebrate the release. I was excited, though admittedly a little nervous to hear how the tracks we worked on together sounded to the public.

I clicked on the stream and watched as Yoongi greeted his fans, his usual cool demeanor giving way to the warmth of being surrounded by people who admired his work. I listened closely as he played the first six songs, the ones he had worked on solo. Each track was a piece of his soul, his sound so distinct and raw. Then came the three songs we collaborated on, and I couldn’t help but smile. Hearing them in front of thousands of fans was surreal, but in a way, it felt like we were still connected. Every note, every lyric felt like a reflection of the quiet moments we shared, the time we spent creating together.

As the ninth track played, I expected the stream to wrap up, but then Yoongi’s voice came through again. It was softer this time, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should say the words that were coming.

“This last song is a very last-minute addition to the album,” he began, his tone low and a little more introspective. “Making this album have a total of 10 tracks. I felt like this album was missing something... and this track summarizes everything that’s been going on with me lately. It’s called SDL.”

I froze, heart pounding in my chest. I hadn’t known about this last-minute addition to the album. I thought everything had been finalized. But here he was, introducing a track that was somehow more personal than any of the others. My stomach tightened as the beat dropped, and the chorus rang out:

"Yeah, somebody does love

But I'm thinking 'bout you."

The lyrics hit me like a wave, each word carrying a weight that I couldn’t ignore. It felt so raw, so vulnerable. Before I could process it all, I grabbed my stuff and rushed out the door. I knew Yoongi would still be at HYBE, where the livestream was taking place. Without thinking twice, I jumped into my car, determined to get there. The song had caught me completely off guard, and I needed to see him. I needed to understand what this song really meant.

It wasn’t just a track—it was a message. A message that had left me reeling, and I wasn’t going to wait to figure it out. I arrived at HYBE, my heart still racing from the drive. As I stepped out, I caught sight of Jihoon leaving the building, and without thinking, I called out to him.

"Is Yoongi still here?"

"Yeah, last time I saw him, it was just a few minutes ago at the studio," Jihoon replied casually. I didn't even say goodbye as I ran inside toward the studio, my mind set on finding Yoongi. When I reached the door and pushed it open, I could tell it wasn’t the same as the first time we met, where his eyes had been skeptical and full of surprise. This time, when our eyes met, I saw something completely different, softness, warmth, and love.

I closed the door behind me and moved closer to him, my breath still catching up from the run.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Yoongi asked, his voice laced with concern. He came to me, his hands instinctively reaching up to fix my hair, his touch gentle as he noticed my flustered state.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "That last song, I saw your live... where did that come from? I thought the album had only 9 tracks."

Yoongi paused, his hands lingering in my hair as he gave me a soft smile. "As I said on the live, that song is what’s been going on in my head these past couple of months."

I raised an eyebrow, still trying to piece it together. "So, you mean to tell me... I’m your inspiration?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yes. You know I’m not great with my feelings, and better than anyone, you understand how hard it is for me to express myself. With everything that’s been going on between us lately… I thought this would be the clearest way to show you how I feel, the way we know best: through music."

“Why didn’t you play it for me before? In private?” I asked, my voice soft but laced with curiosity.

“I wanted it to be a surprise, like a big romantic gesture that only we would recognize,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. “I felt like I needed to redeem myself for how I acted at the start. To be honest, we were so good together that I’m sure we could’ve finished those tracks in less than a month. But I kept being a jerk, nit-picking everything just so we’d have to restart. It was selfish, but I wanted to steal every last minute with you. You walked into this studio and captured my heart and soul with everything you are, and I wasn’t ready to let that go so easily.”

His words hit me with full force, my heart pounding in my chest as the weight of his confession settled. I stepped closer, my emotions bubbling to the surface, and before I could think or say anything more, my lips found Yoongi’s. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if I were trying to tell him everything I couldn’t put into words. It was a kiss full of everything: love, apology, understanding, and a promise for more. We didn’t need more words, just the closeness, the music, and the quiet understanding between us. The kiss deepened, and in that moment, we both knew: this was just the beginning.

[7brownsuga7]

Crybaby | Yoongi

MDNI! Inspo: 1

Yoongi hated seeing you cry. He hated to see the wetness of your cheeks and the slight puffiness of your eyes, given any situation he’d make it his right to avoid it - like when he accidentally spoke to you in a different tone, or when he was being short with you one time. But he couldn’t help the feeling he got when he heard you cry out for him as you became eager and eager for more of his touch.

Especially when he had a full view of you lose it as you grind on top of him. Rubbing your clothed throbbing pussy against his cock. You were desperate for more, the wet patch on the fabric of your panties full proof. He could tell you were on the verge of tears as you eagerly rocked against him, trying to ease the tension between your legs. Eyes shut tightly as your pussy ached for something more.

You were so needy - so good for him.

It made him go feral every-time he noticed the first tear escape your eye, and then when the rest followed along with your whiny whimpers and soft cries did he tell himself this was probably one of his favourite sights.

His hands would run up your stomach, caressing your breasts - thumb circling over your hardened nipples as you trembled with pleasure. His cock was a twitching - leaky mess too - seeing you in that state was just enough to get his cock rock hard and ready to fuck you, and when he feels your clothed pussy against him does he go even more insane.

He’d give in to your plees, fucking you just the way you like. Eyes lighting up in awe as he watches you in all your glory as he pounds you from below, your hands caressing the bare skin of his torso, working up towards his neck, playing with the silver chain hanging loosely around it.

His lips would kiss your tear stained cheeks whispering praises in your ear, a small smirk hidden on his face. He hated it but he truly couldn’t resist it.

His fingers—ones he knew were your weakness— would trail feather-light across your skin, sending chills up your spine. He’d caress your neck, tilting your head just enough so he could see your pretty face better, admiring you as you took him so well. Because he wanted to see it all, every whimper, every cry, every tear that escaped your eyes.

The way he made you act. Like a baby.

His crybaby.

The nickname he never let you forget.

He’d coo some meaningless sentence like, “hey hey, shh… I got you” caressing your wet cheek knowing damn well he thrives off of seeing you in such a state like this. His cock hits every spot inside you, making you cry out more as overstimulation consumes you with each movement against your skin.

“Yoongi… i-i”, you stutter unable to form a proper sentence. And who can blame you when his cock is pounding deep inside your wet cunt, your body collapsed on top of him as you’re unable to support yourself due to his harsh movements. He supports you by wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he takes control.

His eyes never stray away from your face - mesmerised.

“Don’t cry, baby” he bites his lip as his thrusts continue, knocking you forward with each movement. If your eyes weren’t so blurred by your tears and the grip he has around your neck, you would be able to see the mischievous glint in his eye.

He catches your cries with a sloppy kiss. Giving you a sympathetic look as he says, “ah you’re close aren’t you baby?” As he can feel your pussy clench repeatedly. Your eyes shut tightly as you try your best to keep your composure. Even though you’re a mess already.

“Look at me”

He brings his hands towards yours, holding them as he eases you through your orgasm. He kisses your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours as he looks up at you.

When he feels you come undone around him, wetness coating his thighs - he caresses your body, shushing you as you shake and cry. His lips kissing your shoulder as you slowly unwind.

And when he’s finished with you - you near enough falling asleep, he will kiss along your skin. Praising you every way he can with words like, “You took me so well” and “I’m proud of you”. Words he knows has you weak. Running his slender fingers along your back caressing your skin, soothing you to sleep. Slowly working along towards your shoulders as he massages them until he hears the soft sound of your snores.

[bubble7o7]

Mature Content

Over 18’s Only

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Seven T’s…

“Aaaaaah my lover hath returned!” You declare loudly as you dramatically bow while opening the door to greet him…

You look up wondering why he’s so silent…

That’s because it’s the mailman with a stash of mail and not your boyfriend!

Red faced you laugh awkwardly “I’m so sorry, I thought you were…”

“Your lover?…” he laughs “I should be so lucky!”

“What’s going on here?” a deep voice interrupts.

“This must be him” laughs the mailman. “Can you sign for this one please? Ok, see you guys tomorrow… nice t-shirt by the way!”

“Erm should I be worried?” He asks grabbing your waist and pushing you through the door with him.

“About what?”

“You and the mailman? I hope you’re wearing something under that t shirt?”

“I have shorts on Grandpa!” You roll your eyes.

“Wait… what does it say on your t shirt?”

He turns you round and stretches your shirt out to see “Yoongi Marry Me!” in all its pink bedazzled glory!

“Ha ha! Yah!… what!?… wait is this your way of asking me?”

“No” you laugh “But… what would your answer be if I was?” you ask coyly

“Should I put my answer on a t shirt?” He leans in closer to you… stroking your hair behind your ear he whispers “I think you know exactly what my answer would be”.

He slowly kisses down your neck, then softly kisses your lips.

“It would be No!” he quickly grabs his bags and keys from the worktop and runs away down the hallway laughing.

“You fucker!” You laugh. “Fine!… Well next time I’m answering the door naked to the mail man!… Maybe he’ll love me!” You yell.

You hear footsteps thundering back down the hallway, with barely anytime to register he’s behind you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you to him. His mouth pressed hard against your ear “I never said I didn’t love you…” he growls.

He flips you round to face him “Don’t make eye contact with that mail man ever again” he kisses you hard “You’re mine!”

“I’ll have you know, no one owns me!… I am a strong independ…. Oh fuck me…”. He’s interrupting you by gently sucking on your ear lobe, kissing down your neck then moving on to your lips…

“Mine” he whispers before kissing you passionately.

Then he leaves you and saunters back down the hallway yelling “MINE!”

“Holy shit… that man!“ you sigh. He has you frazzled. You can’t remember what it was you were doing before the knock at the door? You take a deep breath, pull yourself together and get back to preparing dinner. Your lips still tingling from his touch.

A little while later you shout “Dinners ready Yoongs!”

“Oooh looks good! Thank you for the food my love. Wait has it changed colour?”

“Eh?”

“The t-shirt?… it was pink before and now it’s blue!”

“Oh… no I’d slopped food on it so just changed it.”

“Jesus how many of them do you have?”

“One for every day of the week and in different colours!”

“Yah!” He yells

“Hush! Just let me be! They’re my comfort t-shirts. Shut up and eat your food.” You say eating your noodles.

He suddenly leans over to you, you offer your noodle laden chop sticks to him but he shakes his head no, then softly swipes his thumb across the corner of your mouth to remove some sauce and settles back down sucking his thumb clean.

You catch yourself gazing adoringly at him, wondering how did you get so lucky?

He catches your gaze…

“Wait, don’t move…” he says softly

“What?! Why? Have I got more food on my face?” You pat at your cheeks.

“No”

“Then what is it?”

“Just let me look at you”

You blush “Oh stop Yoongi!”

“How did I get so lucky?” he asks

“Shut up!… I was literally just thinking the same thing about you!” He leans over and kisses you hard, you drop your chop sticks in the bowl moving them to one side as he pulls you over on to his lap.

“I love you you know?…”

“I know” you say in between kisses.

“Please don’t flirt with the mailman anymore though” he mumbles laughing into your boobs.

“Shut up!” you laugh! “He’s about 70 years old!… although he does look good in uniform” you wink.

“Yah!” He grabs your waist, tickling and pulling you into him “Mine remember?” he whispers.

“All yours my love… all yours” you assure him.

“Let’s clean up and watch some TV”

“Sounds good” you agree.

It’s not long before you both dose off on the sofa, wrapped in each other instead of watching TV.

-

Weeks have passed and you have successfully resisted flirting with the mailman and you’re home after a busy and late day at work, fortunately it’s Yoongi’s turn to cook and you’re famished.

You start to enter the pin on the keypad but the door is quickly pulled open and Yoongi greets you, abruptly taking your coat and bag from you.

“Hi… is everything ok?” you ask.

“Yes fine, you’ve had a long day and your dinner is ready” he rushes you in.

“Good I’m starving!”

He walks behind you, his hands either side of your waist guiding you to the direction of the living room.

You turn to face him “What’s going on?”

He gently pushes you through the door. Your eyes scan the room and the floor, it’s covered with red and black rose petals scattered amongst giant lit candles.

You turn to him “I don’t understand?” You look down he’s on one knee, holding a ring in his hand outstretched to you. He puffs out his chest so you can see that he’s wearing a t-shirt bedazzled with “Y/N Marry Me?” across his chest.

You burst into tears “Is this really real?” You sob “Is it? Oh please let it be real?” You cry.

“It’s real my love” he wipes a tear from his cheek. “Will you be mine… for forever?”

You fall to your knees, grabbing his face you kiss him desperately “Oh Yoongi… you’ve made me so happy!” You cry.

“I love you Y/N” he cries scattering kisses all over your face. He slides the ring on your finger fitting perfectly.

“It’s beautiful Yoongi” you start to cry again. You stroke his chest with the “Y/N marry me?” across it “I love it!” You laugh.

“Here… these are for you…” he hands you a black box with a giant black ribbon. “They’re for when you’re officially my wife” he smiles.

There’s seven t-shirts all in different colours with the words “Yoongi Married Me!” across the chest.

“I can’t wait to wear them” you smile.

[perfectlyoongi]

HUSBAND!YOONGI who asked you to marry him without a ring or planning, just the desire to be yours forever motivating Yoongi. you were about to go to bed, tired from another long day of work, but when he looked at you, focused on your night routine, arranging things for the next day, Yoongi realized that was a vision he wanted to have for the rest of his life; Yoongi's words came without hesitation, spontaneous, carrying with them all the hope and desire for a full life by your side. “let’s get married. i can't bear to spend another day with the fear of losing you. i want this life we have forever.”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who at your wedding, at the end of the day under the sunset, pulled you away from all the guests and said private vows just for you. at the ceremony Yoongi was nervous, too eager to hurry up the ceremony and finally have you forever and ever, and, as such, his vows were beautiful, yes, but brief; however, when the day was ending, when dancing and laughter occupied all the space, Yoongi gently held your hand, taking you to the garden, pouring out his soul in the form of simple words. “i promise to love you. not as i love you now, or as i loved you yesterday, but as i will love you tomorrow and the day after, for i continue to fall in love with you constantly and my love will never diminish, only grow.”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who sits in the kitchen with a guitar and serenades you. whenever you were cooking, cleaning the kitchen, or simply working, Yoongi would take his guitar to the kitchen and embellish your tasks with a gentle melody echoing through the room, the music that your husband played for you comforting your heart and making you smile every time Yoongi decided to accompany his guitar with his sweet voice. “i wrote a new ballad with you in mind. wanna hear it?”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who likes to be the little spoon when you take a nap on a sunday afternoon. Yoongi liked to have you in his arms, to have the feeling that, in a way, he was protecting you from the world and that he contained within you all the essence of your soul that made you so unique, so beautiful; however, Yoongi wasn't going to deny that he also liked to feel held, to have your hands around his body in a warm blanket of pure love and tranquility. “do you want to take a nap with me? i wouldn't mind being held now... because… i need you, to... you know. please?”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who adopted a dog on your first anniversary. Yoongi would be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking about a family with you since the day he told you he loved you — it was stronger than him. you made Yoongi dream, dream about things he never thought he wanted, things he never thought he was worthy of wanting; you were magic for Yoongi, an eternal source of dreams and hope and he just wanted to repay you — a dog, an animal that would keep you company when he was away, an animal that was capable of loving you almost as much as Yoongi, almost. “i don’t know what magic you have in you, but i just want to continue to grow with you and make our relationship grow. this dog is the beginning of our family.”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who reads you books out loud when you are tired or sad. Yoongi asked you to lay your head on his lap and choose the book he would read: poetry, fantasy, even plays he was capable of reading and interpreting for you if it meant you resting and laughing for moments; there were entire hours of nothing more than your husband's melodious words filling the room, various tales and stories coming to life through his voice while you closed your eyes and let yourself be carried away by the narrative recited by Yoongi. “if i read you shakespeare and look at you while i read the love dialogues, does that count as a confession from me to you?”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who loves you unconditionally for years and years on end, the feeling that was planted in Yoongi's heart only growing with each moment shared with you without ever withering or losing a single fragment. as if linked by the oldest constellations, your love was constant, long ago idealized by the universe itself with traces of stars and magic making your relationship lasting in each lifetime. “i don’t want to stop dreaming about you. i don't want to stop loving you. you are the only reality for me and i only exist with you by my side.”

[bokutoko]

ꜱᴜɢᴀᴡᴀʀᴀ knows you’re sick before you do.

he’d had that superpower for years now, and he had it down to a science, practically knowing right when an illness is about to sweep through his classroom and school.

you, however, did not heed his warnings of taking your extra vitamins…

“can you hit me with your car?”

sugawara raised a mildly concerned brow as he cut his eyes at you from the couch. “… why now?”

he really knew better than to ask that question, considering he knew the answer, but there he was, watching as you shuffled into the kitchen, in desperate search of coffee. full of sniffles, you groaned, “to put me out of my misery.”

at the sound of your congestion, despair, and the coffee maker, he perked up and quickly rounded the corner into the kitchen. “hey, hey,” his voice is calm as he smoothly grabbed your favorite mug from the cabinet around you and placed it on the counter, “let’s get you some tea instead of coffee, okay? you sound awful.”

“do i? i hadn’t noticed,” you deadpanned, your eyes glassy and nose slightly red from rubbing it.

despite the screaming temptation to tell you he told you so, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not when you looked that pitiful. so instead, before you could even argue (because he knew you would try), he ushered you back into your shared bed with a sigh.

“kou—”

he dramatically put his finger to your lips. “sweetheart, you need rest,” he said, helping you slip back under the covers, “are sleepy meds okay?”

you couldn’t even argue, really—you felt like death itself. you nodded, looking up at him from your fetal position in bed.

you watched as your love left the room and returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup of tea. “picked out your favorite,” he said as he sets it down on the nightstand, “and i’ll go ahead and make you that soup you like when you’re sick.”

a smile crept onto your face, and you gave him a look. “and…?”

he knew that face. “i’ve already called us both out from work, so we can watch movies and sleep all day.”

you grabbed a tissue and blew your nose. “i knew i kept you around for a reason.”

“yeah yeah, i love you too.”

and that entire day, sugawara held you close, braving through the trainwreck-sounding snores, the drool from your deep nap, and the snot when you sneezed—only being slightly grossed out. his hand would gently rub your back, his fingers gently tracing the curvature of your spine as you both watched movie classics, where you’d naturally fall asleep about ten minutes in. and every few hours, he would make you eat—even if it was something small—just so you wouldn’t get sick from the medicine.

playing nurse was fun for sugawara, being able to dote on you with little to no arguments of “i can do it myself” every time. because while he knew you could, he wanted to be the one to take care of you.

but of course, he woke up sick the next day as well (because that was just you both’s luck), so you both stayed in bed another day, taking care of each other in between sniffles and coughs. in sickness and in health. ᢉ𐭩

a/n: i told you i was thinking thoughts @nectardaddy hehe <3 hope you feel better soon!!

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