#yoongiff

[fentyjjk]

SONGATHON MASTER LIST

𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗵𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗹𝗲𝘀, 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗮𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱

—KIM SEOKJIN

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻

—MIN YOONGI

⇝ 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱

—JUNG HOSEOK

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻

—KIM NAMJOON

⇝ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗲

—PARK JIMIN

⇝ 𝘀𝗵𝗲

—KIM TAEHYUNG

⇝ always forever

—JEON JUNGKOOK

⇝ outside

⇝ 𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗯 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴

[hoebaring]

A Writing Challenge Based On Songs!💖 - Send in your song requests please!! :)

I've been affected by a rather bad case of writer's block, so, how about you guys send me names of a few songs through the asks and I'll try to come up with a short scenario for them :)

Song name🎵 + member's name :) doesn't necessarily have to be bangtan:) OR Just the song name is fine if you're not looking for a fanfic/one shot. I will write single scenarios too :))

Author G <3

[lolabangtan]

eden’s sleep | myg

When you woke up, he was sitting next to you, smiling fondly. A stranger in disguise, now cold as ice. You hate that you can’t remember him, but you hate even more that you can’t remember what you used to mean to him.

Word count: 12k

Warnings: smut, mentions of death, body issues, spirituality.

# soulmates AU, deity AU, household deity!Yoongi, amnesia, hurt/comfort, slow burn, sub!yoongi, slight degradation, hand job, edging, nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (female receiving), cum eating.

Read Eden’s sleep while listening to its own Spotify playlist

You feel heavy, burning, writhing on top of something you’ve never touched before. There’s something covering you, caging you like a bird, and it’s soft, but also unknown and so scary. Soft flesh choking your throat, all the colours of the world blinding you— what is this thing sneaking into you that is so strange and yet so relieving to feel inside?

But then you feel it, the soothing sensation tangling with what feels like an extension of your being; the beast ripping you open calms down, and you finally take a hold on the flesh around you.

“Hey.” A man is sitting next to you, smiling fondly. You look down and notice he’s holding a hand – a hand that belongs to you. “You finally woke up. How are you feeling?”

Your voice comes out painfully dry. “What?”

Does he know you? Do you know him? – you don’t even know yourself. You can’t bring yourself to remember anything, just trying it is terribly painful and makes something inside of you creep down into your soul.

“What?” you repeat with a frown. The light coming from the windows is too much for your eyes.

“It’s me, Yoongi. Don’t you—?”

He shuts up as soon as he sees the tears running down your cheeks. Concerned, the man leans over you and tries to wipe them away. His touch is soothing, but a part of your brain tells you to push him away, and so you do, with a swipe of your hand. Not only his face overall, especially his eyes turn colder as they stare at you in search of… something.

“Where…?” you manage to murmur. The vibrations coming from your throat tickle, it makes you shiver. “Where am I?”

But he’s too engrossed in your eyes. “I can’t believe you’re here…”

“Tell me—” Your hand cups his over your cheek. “Answer me, where am I? What’s— what’s going on? Yoongi?”

“Yes?” he asks hopefully.

“You said your name is Yoongi. Who are you, Yoongi? What is this place? Why do I feel— constricted?”

“You don’t— you don’t know me?” Yoongi asks then, and his face drops again.

You don’t. You don’t remember anything, actually; weirdly enough, your mind is completely blank, even if you can talk, or move a bit, or even get out of the hospital bed. This world feels familiar, but only because you feel like you’ve seen it before. Your feet step on the floor with confidence, one that something deep inside of you doesn’t have.

“What am I doing here?” you groan.

Why can’t you remember anything? Your heart starts to beat crazily in your chest. It hurts, the air hurts, your body hurts. With trembling fingers, he clutches your hand in his, and it suddenly calms you down.

“It’s okay,” Yoongi suddenly says with a soft smile that soon vanishes. “Come find me when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”

“Ready for what—?”

“No need, I’ll just check on the—” Another man walks into the room, looking over his shoulder as he says goodbye to his colleague and closes the door behind him – only to gasp as soon as he sees you sitting up on the bed. “God—! Oh, God, what a fright. I— Mr Min? When did she wake up?” he asks then, walking up to you. “Is she talking?”

“I’m talking, yeah,” you grumble, feeling the ache in your gums.

Doctor Park blinks. “Uh, fully talking? We’ll need to run a few tests… So, she’s completely in her senses? I’m so glad— oh, your family will be so happy to hear the news,”

With a tilt of his chin, Yoongi gets up, eyes never leaving yours. It’s almost like he has to tear his body away from your closeness, and you sort of feel the same way. You don’t want him to step away, can’t bear it. Finally, he addresses the doctor:

“She, uh… She doesn’t remember anything,” he mutters, to the other man’s surprise.

“At all?”

“My mind is blank. What is this place? What happened to me?” you groan, trying to get someone to listen to you.

“All right, all in good time,” the doctor sighs. “Mr Min, please leave us a minute. Ma’am, I do have to call for your family; your mother and, uh, boyfriend are both here. They both got asked to rest a bit.”

Doctor Park eyes Yoongi to see if he reacts, but the man remains unmoved. With that, the former leaves and the latter waits for a chance to look at you thoroughly before saying goodbye.

“Wait!”

Yoongi halts and turns around. “You don’t need to pretend. It’s too soon. But don’t forget—”

Come find me when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.

Rehab takes months. You don’t remember a thing about your life, can’t recognise anyone – the woman who claims to be your mother, whatever that means, cries as she talks to the doctor. Your boyfriend arrives with a bouquet and a wide smile, but it drops the second he’s told you don’t know who he is. Your boss has been contacted, nobody expected you to live, it’s a medical miracle. And you still fail to feel one with your body.

Oh, how you hate your body.

Your skin, your bones, your muscles. Your eyes and your teeth, your gums, your little skull; they all are so weak and pathetic, feel like they’re wrapping something much worthier. Something you don’t understand with this stupid, memoryless brain of yours.

After a two-year coma, the doctor said, it’s completely normal to feel disoriented.

While that doesn’t comfort your family, it does make you feel a little better. Amidst this sea of empty feelings and moments when you think a bird is trying to burst through your chest and escape, knowing that it’s normal to feel this way makes it a little more bearable. Even as your body recovers and your mind doesn’t.

“Well, there is no head trauma,” he continues, “that could explain the memory loss. Even after such an accident, most patients with amnesia usually recover after a few months.”

You remember the first time your boyfriend touched you after you woke up. He grabbed your hand with a tender smile, like his life was suddenly all good and fixed, and told you he loved you. Guilt creeps up your throat as you remember how indifferent it made you feel – to be loved so unconditionally.

Still, all you can think about was him.

Min Yoongi, the man who was with you when you woke up. Doctor Park said he came to visit you every day, called you by a different name, dodged your family like a ninja. A lover, maybe. All the medical staff just figured you had been cheating on your boyfriend with him.

No need to ruin the life of a comatose in case they ever woke up, uh? Even now, no one else knows much about him.

“So, she’ll never… remember us? I’m her mother! She must remember me somewhere in her brain! I gave birth to her, I raised her!”

You listen without much attention to your mother’s cries on the other side of the door.

Doctor Park tries to comfort her. “Well, that’s… We don’t know that, ma’am. Her memory loss could be due to so many different reasons, emotional even. It doesn’t need to be directly related to the car crash.”

But none of this feels yours. The only thing you’ve felt connected with ever since you woke up is Yoongi’s touch, as he’s been missing since that very same day. He just… stormed off the room, the hospital, your life, arrived with answers and left with them too. And it still feels like he knows something you don’t; maybe you are having an affair with him, after all?

You need to see Yoongi. He’s got the answers you’re looking for, of that you’re sure. You just need to go and look for them, look for him.

First things first, you need to get out of this unblemished, white loophole.

You know you have a flat somewhere in the city, you hadn’t moved in to live together with your boyfriend yet. Now that’s never gonna happen, you don’t even know the man. He cries a bit when you tell him you’re moving back as soon as you’re done with rehab, and your mother tries to convince you to stay with her, move back in, but you refuse – you don’t know these people.

“She’s a bit confused, but otherwise she’s improved a lot. Except for her memory, that is… I’m sorry, I really am. I wish there was something else I could do.”

“But she can’t remember her own family! How can she get discharged and considered well enough to leave? Is this even legal?”

“Sir, she’s… She’s a legal adult, no longer on active treatment, and her condition is stable; she’s ready to return to her job, fully able to continue with her life as it was before. If it were not for her memory loss, it would be as if there had never been an accident. It’s unusual, but you have to accept it.”

“So there’s nothing we can do? Do I have to stand by and watch my daughter abandon me?”

“Ma’am, it’s her decision. So, no, there’s nothing you can do.”

“I refuse! She’s my daughter!”

“She could report you for harassment if you’re not careful. Please be patient. My advice, as a professional, is to wait. Wait until she recovers her memory, don’t push her, don’t follow her around – she needs all the peace and quiet in the world to recover from it.”

“She’s my daughter—!”

There she goes, your mother is crying again. Doctor Park, the angel he is, tries to comfort her, wants to clear the way for you as you get ready to leave the hospital. How you wish there was something connecting you to her, even the familiarity of her touch, but you can’t get near her without provoking a dramatic scene, not yet. Now, your very own flat awaits you, the place you used to call home. Will you recognise it? Probably not.

“The plans of the complex have to be sent to the City Council before we can continue with the felling, but Mrs Kim doesn’t want you to push yourself, you should go slowly.”

You have no idea what you’re doing, your heart was going to burst the first time you set foot in your office, but it’s as if your body remembers what you used to do; an awfully weird feeling, this body you hate so much seems to know about your life far better than you do, and it pisses you off to the point that, sometimes, your fingers tingle, almost craving to tear your skin with your nails.

“It’s okay, I’m doing well.” You see your colleague standing at your desk, almost hesitant. “Anything else, Jungkook-ssi?”

“Sorry, I don’t wanna be nosy, but— is it true that you don’t remember your family? Or your boyfriend?” he finally asks, as if you’ve asked to spit out his lungs and serve them on a silver plate for you.

“I— uh— that’s private, sorry. I’m trying to deal with it.”

“Your mother must be heartbroken…”

You sigh. “I know.”

“Oh, sorry,” he rushes to say, making you let out a tired chuckle, “that surely doesn’t help. Well, take your time with the reports, it’s okay if it takes you a bit longer than usual. And we’re eager to help in any way, just in case… you don’t remember.”

“I will, eventually, don’t worry,” you tell him, but you’re rather comforting yourself.

You hope so. It should happen, you should remember your family, your colleagues, your life – why don’t you, though? Why can you move your body perfectly well, recovered from the crash as if it had never happened, but can’t remember even a single day from your past? You don’t know a thing about yourself. What’s your favourite colour? And your favourite show? When did you get your first job, or your first kiss? Were you a good student of a rebellious brat? Who are you? Who are you? Who the fuck are you?

As always when you ask yourself those questions, you think of him.

You haven’t seen that stranger, Min Yoongi, in a while. It’s not like you have a reason to, though – unlike everyone else, you haven’t run into him yet, your life hasn’t brought him back. Why would he even go visit you just to disappear? You don’t even have his contact saved on your phone, you checked as soon as you managed to unlock it.

But his touch—

His touch felt like home. Soothing and warm, it’s the only thing that has felt familiar ever since the accident, and not only to your body but also to your mind, to your heart, to your soul.

It feels like your chest shrinks at the thought of him. To take Min Yoongi out of your mind for some time, you get on with work. By the time you’re done, it’s past nine, took you longer, brain not functioning as it should. It’s okay, that’s what your boss says. That’s what everybody says.

Waiting for the bus, you pull out your mobile; twelve missed calls from your mother, five from your boyfriend, three from your sister, a few messages from some of your cousins and friends scattered in between.

The answer is always the same – if you bother to reply: “I’m trying. Please, don’t contact me. This too is hard for me.”

“Are you getting on the bus?”

You turn around and see an old lady waiting to see if she can get on. “Oh” – you take a look at the screen. Yes, it’s your bus – “yeah, but— you first. It’s all right. I had my mind somewhere else.”

“It’s okay,” she replies with a smile and gets on right before you.

Since you’re not going to take the last free seat from an old lady who can barely stand up for longer than five minutes, you get on the bus and find some room in a corner, facing the big window. It starts to rain almost instantly, the sound of the raindrops tapping the glass flowing through your mind. For a second, you picture they’re tapping the leaves of a tree instead, there’ll be dew the next morning.

The shadow of a familiar smell sneaks into your nose, you try to follow it. Don’t leave, stay with me. But suddenly you’re opening your eyes again to a world of concrete and smoke.

You feel like throwing up.

With your eyes fixed on the window, following the droplets as they slide down the glass. The bus stops, the raindrops reach the bottom and mix with the rest. You’re jealous of them and look away.

Next stop: Dongincheon Station. The doors open, and a few people get off.

Just that second you see a platinum blonde shadow, it reminds you of him almost instantly; Yoongi enters your field of vision, your body reacts on its own. Or is it something deeper inside of you that makes you get off the bus even though the doors are closing already?

But the back of your coat gets stuck, couldn’t make it in time. Someone inside the bus warns the driver while you pull and pull, looking up to see if he’s gone – and he is.

The doors open, you can finally step away as it drives off. And you stand there, passengers passing by and bumping into you, but you don’t notice, getting soaked under the heavy rainfall. Come find me when you’re ready. Ready for what, you asked him, and you still don’t know. Why would you? You don’t know anything at all, don’t even know your body, your past, this lingering feeling in the tip of your fingers.

Why does he have to be so mysterious, though? Min Yoongi could have perfectly told you who he is, what role he had in your life before you forgot him. But no, he had to be all secretive about it and leave as soon as Doctor Park got him the chance to.

You have to be ready first, he said. Then you could go to him.

“It’s two in the morning, why don’t you go home? You should rest.”

Jungkook places another mug of steamy, caffeine-filled coffee in front of you anyway and sighs. You know he’s worried about you; what you don’t understand is why. Were you such good colleagues in the past? Ugh, how you hate that you don’t know these things. Maybe you are best friends, maybe he has a crush on you. Who knows? Certainly not you.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you say with a soft chuckle. “You can go home if you want, though – there’s no need to wait for me.”

He presses his lips together and finally musters the courage to grab a nearby chair and sit with you. “Are you, really? I know, with the memory loss and all, you’ve… changed. We all understand. But don’t you think you’re—? What’s this? What are you doing?”

Oh, he’s pointing at the countless documents scattered on your desk, papers, pictures, notes written in a hurried and almost frantic way.

You rush to keep them away from Jungkook’s prying eyes. “They’re, uh— they’re nothing, just stuff,” you babble, grabbing them, but he manages to get one and take a look. “Don’t! It’s personal!”

“I know this guy,” Jungkook says in surprise.

“You— you do?”

At his words, you can only stare at him in disbelief. Does he? Jungkook knows Min Yoongi? So, he is part of your life. Maybe not the most public figure, but it’s not some feverish imagination of yours. Yoongi is real, and he does have answers to your unspoken questions, those that live only in your heart, in this empty body.

“Uh, yeah,” the boy continues, “I’d see him from time to time at the hospital… Why? Do you remember him?”

“He… was with me when I woke up.”

The following sound that Jungkook has you arching your eyebrows at him. “Nothing, just… I just thought he was a, hm, special friend? I think I even saw your boyfriend around asking about him. The medical staff’s behaviour was a bit suspicious, I must say.”

“He thinks I was having an affair with Min Yoongi?” you murmur to yourself, looking again. Can it be true? It would explain his secretive behaviour. “Then he must know things about him.”

“He was pretty thorough with his investigation,” Jungkook says with a chuckle.

With what you’ve found out, you thank him, gather your stuff, and storm off before he can add anything else.

It’s rushed, might not work, but now you need to know what he could’ve possibly found out about Min Yoongi, so you take out your phone and text your boyfriend. Need to talk, can I come over? You just hope he won’t get his hopes too high; you don’t want to break his heart. Honestly, the only thing you want is to find out what happened during the car crash, and why Yoongi told you to find him once you ‘are ready’.

Of course, I’ll text you the address. I imagine you don’t remember.

“Hi,” he says with a broad smile, almost out of breath as soon as he opens the door. “Uh, come in, please. It wasn’t… It wasn’t hard to get here? Being past midnight and all. Did you get a taxi?”

“Ah, yeah, I did. And thank you, I’m sorry about the time,” you mutter, walking into the small entrance hall.

The flat is cute, elegant, but it doesn’t raise any memories. It’s like you’re stepping on unknown territory. But he’s quick to step aside to let you in and see you to the living room, where you take a seat in front of him.

“Namjoon, listen, I’ve been thinking—”

“Sorry, but could I go first?” he cuts you off, and you nod. “Thank you… The thing is, I’ve been thinking too. And I’m sorry, so sorry. I totally ignored what you needed at that moment, peace and quiet, what the doctor said. But I was so happy to see you wake up.” Namjoon’s voice breaks, he fights back tears. “We were told you probably wouldn’t. But now I understand everything. This is… This is a new chance; I’ll wait for you to get your memory back. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

“And if I never get them back?” you ask him as your voice breaks too.

“You will, I’m sure. Doctor Park said it’s most likely due to something emotional and not brain damage. I’ll be with you, by your side, waiting… But, uh, what is it you wanted to tell me?”

You take his hands with yours – you need to do it before you speak. “Namjoon, I… I don’t wanna make promises. I might never recover my memory, don’t forget that. And until it happens, I need to… sort things out. My job, my flat, my body, my life… I need to sort them all out.”

“So— you need to sort me out too?”

You nod weakly and look away. Your eyes fix everywhere; on your hands as you fidget, on your feet, and on the carpet under them too. You stare down at your shoes, and then you look up back at him, and God, your heart shrinks with such pity; because you do pity Namjoon, and your mother, and your sister, and everyone in your life who has just lost a loved one.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, “but it’s better than a lie, right?”

Namjoon lets out a breathless chuckle filled with a sense of defeat. “I guess? I don’t know. This really is the last reason why I ever imagined you’d break with me.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head to the side with curiosity.

“Well, I— hm, I… imagined things during your time at the hospital. I know it’ll make me look like I’m some sort of lunatic, but” – Namjoon takes a deep breath, he’s laughing at his own absurdity – “I thought you were cheating on me and that this… whole amnesia thing was just a ploy to ditch me and go back to—”

“Min Yoongi.”

Namjoon freezes when you finish his sentence, he cringes at the thought that you do remember him, or that he’s been in your new life enough to make himself known – this man who has been giving him the headache of his life.

“You remember him?” he asks then with a broken voice.

But you shake your head. “No, not at all… He just was sitting next to me when I woke up.”

“Did he— did he say anything?”

Come find me when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.

“Nothing important,” you reply softly and shake your head, “just… his name, and how happy he was that I was awake – until I told him I didn’t know him. But Doctor Park walked in before he could say anything else, and he just stormed off— Namjoon, you have to answer me honestly.” Your boyfriend looks into your eyes with determination. “Was I— was I really cheating on you?”

“That’s what I first thought.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “But, uh, I don’t think so? Forgive me for this, but I… dug a bit into his life— well, I actually asked my lieutenant to pull some strings for me.”

“And?”

Your voice sounds indifferent – you don’t really care that he was suspicious enough about your presumed infidelity to look into someone he doesn’t know. Especially not when it comes in so handy. If you had any memory of Namjoon, perhaps – of your shared snippets of life, of your love story – his mistrust would’ve definitely offended you, but you don’t really feel anything about it. Just… the satisfaction of a load of work off your shoulders.

Namjoon gets up just leave and come back with some folders. “Well, I didn’t really find out anything extraordinarily weird about him; he’s from Daegu, rough childhood. The only thing that  could possibly connect him with you is that he almost died of an overdose a week or so after your accident, and then he moved to Seoul, changed his name, got some part-time jobs here and there, and moved to an old cabin in the forest for which your company was sued for arson.”

“The forest?” The mention of that place provokes some kind of spark in your head. It’s painful, stings, leaves your temples throbbing. Namjoon leans into you in concern. “I’m all right…”

“The only thing,” he continues, “extraordinary about all of this is… When he arrived, the first thing he did was look into every single hospital in town asking for you until he found you. He was using a different name… I don’t know, that’s all I could find out.”

The forest. The forest. The forest, the forest, the forest. It’s vivid in your head, you can even hear the chirping, the wind breezing through the trees and their green leaves. The mere memory of it soothes your headache like it’s nothing, like the warm hug of a home. You’re silent as a tear, alerting Namjoon, rolls down your cheek.

“Hey, are you okay—?”

His touch. Yes, his touch, that’s it, that’s the feeling. Yoongi’s touch as he held your hand when you woke up, that’s home.

“I—” You get up out of a sudden, making him flinch. “Do you know where Min Yoongi works all those part-time jobs? I think I’ll have to talk to him – he’s the only one who might know something about… this.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s all in the folders. He usually works the morning or afternoon shift in a repair shop in Incheon, and the rest of the day he works as a delivery driver.”

“Okay, thank you. For everything…” you tell him with a pitying smile before you snap out of your own sadness and look around. “I think it’s time I leave; you must be tired, so you’d better get some sleep. I’ll take these with me—”

Namjoon shakes his head. “It could be dangerous, let me go with you—”

“No—! I mean,” you say and take a deep breath, “he’s been in a room with me comatose, that was a pretty good chance to hurt me if he wanted to. And I’ll go see him during his shift, there’ll be other customers around, I won’t be completely alone with him. Trust me.”

You manage to convince him that you’ll be all right, even if you honestly have no idea. But the forest— the forest is the first thing since you woke up that feels familiar, it’s the only thing sparkling in some dusty corner of your head, telling you that there is something there, that you could get your memories back if you just dig into this trail of footprints enough.

And those footprints undoubtedly lead to Min Yoongi.

Next stop: Dongincheon Station.

You get off the bus, this time knowing you’ll find him soon.

Even though it’s not raining anymore, the air still smells like rain, soft and damp, refreshing. Something you love about this part of the city is all the green areas and the waterfront; it all brings in such a smell, you can breathe in and fill up your lungs with it.

Taking out your phone, you check the address one last time before heading to the repair shop. It’s only a few streets away, which is probably why you once saw Yoongi passing by the bus stop.

The door chimes as you open it. The knob feels cold against your touch and the shop is empty, with no heating at all in the middle of this impassable winter. Maybe the job gets him all warmed up, but you’re literally trembling. You don’t like the cold, not at all – not when it’s so dry and painful.

You look for him around the small shop—

There he is, silent and observant; he heard you walk in. And you may not know a thing about your life before the accident, you may not feel you belong into your body, you may not understand this feeling, like your whole skin tingles and itches, begging you to rip it off and set you free – but you know Min Yoongi does.

“Hi,” you murmur, almost out of breath. Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest. “Took me a while to find you, you know.”

Yoongi takes one last look down at the papers he’s revising before he stands up from the counter stool in silence. Behind him is a half-assembled table of beautiful mahogany wood. It looks heavy. However, he seems to know his way so well in this place that you’re sure it’s no inconvenience to his rather petite build.

“Do you remember me now, Y/N?” he asks half-heartedly, as if he already knows the answer.

“Not exactly.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle; perhaps he was already expecting it, and it makes you feel a little bit better – for once, someone is aware of your current limits. Even if your wording provokes an aftertaste of hope in his eyes, in the way his shoulders rise slightly.

“And what does that mean?” Yoongi asks again, still calm.

“I, hm— well,” you babble, and you immediately laugh at yourself in embarrassment. “Ugh, sorry, it’s just— I don’t wanna sound like a psycho.”

“Just tell me— but, uh, do you want to take a seat? Sorry, looks like I left my manners at home,” he blurts out too, suddenly nervous. What will you tell him now? Do you remember him, just in a different way? He doesn’t know what to expect at all. “A drink?” You shake your head with a soft smile as you sit down on the chair he pointed to. “I, hm, well— I’m all ears.”

Unlike with Namjoon, with Min Yoongi you feel you can tell him everything, and so you do; from the lack of memories to the strange feeling you had when you first heard about the forest. You do leave the story about his touch for the last, and you tell him a bit embarrassed, but he… understands.

Again, it’s the forest that triggers him. “Have you been there… since you woke up?” You shake your head again. “I might have to show you, then.”

“Well, I don’t know you.”

“Uh, yeah, you technically don’t…” he mutters to himself. Technically?

“I need to know first” – your eyes wander around the small workshop before you can muster the courage to look at him – “what were we? What was my relationship with you before the car crash? How do you know me? Why do you call me by a different name?”

“I was your lover,” Yoongi finally says, “before the accident.”

Oh. So, you were cheating on Namjoon. With a guy who’d otherwise be totally unconnected to you. Bummer.

“— but then you died.”

Your heart stops. “Uh, sorry, I did what?” You feel yourself over your clothes, wondering if this is hell. “But— I feel pretty much alive! Look, there’s— there’s blood running through my veins, and I’m breathing…!” you cry then. What on earth is he saying? You show him your wrists again. “I’m alive, look!”

“You’re alive now,” Yoongi says as if it’s not obvious. “Thanks to that body, which is obviously not enough for you.”

Wow, now you understand this whole thing even less.

It must show in the way you stare at him because Yoongi sighs again and murmurs, “I love you, and you love me too. But it’s not this” – he points at your whole – “that I love, that’s new for me too. It’s what’s inside. What do humans call it? Your soul.”

Humans? What is he then, the ghost of Christmas yet to come?

“You said that hearing about the forest made something… spark in your head, right?” he continues. “Then let’s go there. If my theory is correct, it will bring back your memories.”

“I’ll remember my life? My mother, my boyfriend, my job, my past?” you ask, dumbfounded. There’s no particular excitement in your voice, but there is eagerness.

A longing for this suffering to stop.

“No, I told you those are not your memories.”

So… those are the memories from… the person this body belonged to? To a name that sounds too foreign, to the person beloved by those you see as nothing but strangers—? But then, what are your memories? Whom did you use to be?

“You’re just like me,” Yoongi says, and for a second you think he was reading your mind. “This body, it’s just a shell, something I borrowed for you to someone who’d already left this realm.”

Your lover, Yoongi is your lover. And you’re not even human, it seems. But— somehow, it makes sense. Every single second you’ve gone through wishing you could tear your body apart and fly away, thinking that the world around you was dirty and coarse – it all makes sense now, finally. Maybe you’ve sorted things out at last.

And then you look up at him. The face is unfamiliar, but what’s lying underneath… feels like home, this aura he emits.

“Since the moment I woke up…” you murmur, hands cupping his cheeks. Yoongi goes stiff at your touch, “you’re the only thing I could think about.”

He nuzzles your palm anyway. “I was so happy, I’ve been waiting for so long, my love—”

“I hate that I can’t remember how much I love you, but somehow, I know I do,” you breathe against his lips, hovering over them. The almost touch makes the both of you dizzy. You crave him. “You’re my only beacon now, Yoongi.”

This is your breaking point; in an instant, you throw yourself onto his lips, seeking a warmth you never knew you were missing. But he feels just right between your arms, his skin feels just right against your hands, his scent, his voice, his everything – this is what you had been missing all along.

Yoongi hurriedly kisses you back, brushing your lips together. It feels like he’s exhaling smoke through his pores, this pent-up yearning. With both hands cupping his cheeks, you deepen the contact, suck on his tongue as you feel your skin heating up.

Touching him feels more intense than any other person has ever done. Like electricity, it runs down your fingers and pools in your lower back, leaving you hungry for more.

Reluctantly, you stop kissing him, but your lips are still pressed against his; you can’t let go of him, apparently. It’s scary but oh, so soothing. Finally. “There’s something I still don’t understand… How exactly did I die?”

“You were killed,” he grunts, “by the minions of the woman who used to live in your body. She killed you… so I took it for you.”

“But— but I’m only a construction manager,” you reply with a puzzled chuckle.

With a heavy sigh, Yoongi pulls away from you. He looks defeated, and it breaks your heart to think it’s because you referred to yourself as her, the woman he hates so much. But it’s not that— no, he’s mad at himself, mad at everything he’s made you go through.

“Will you let me show you now?”

Since it has been raining all night, the leaves are still crunching under your feet as you walk uphill. Yoongi walks in front of you, showing you the way. You can already see the beginnings of the forest ahead; the smell is unmistakable, fills your lungs like honey, like a thirsty throat gulping down water. It only grows the closer you get.

“How are you feeling?”

“A bit out of breath,” you reply with a chuckle. “I don’t know… It’s weird, the tingling. And my head hurts.”

Well, it’s better than nothing. Perhaps it means you are getting closer to something important – Yoongi seems sure that it’ll work, at least.

“It’s okay,” he whispers and takes your hand.

Again, his touch sends shivers down your spine, and the lump in your throat softens. You feel like crying for a second, due to the crippling pressure on your temples as you walk into the forest or because you don’t remember a gentler touch than his.

“I cried here too” – Yoongi’s voice snaps you out of your trance, you’re crying – “I mourned you here. The forest,” he murmurs, “reminds me of you.”

“Why?”

Yoongi sighs. “It connected me to you while I waited. This, this was all you, it was all part of you. Every tree, every droplet of water from the streams, the soil beneath our feet – they’re your body more than this bag of flesh and bones will ever be.”

You know that. Deep down, you already know that, felt it in your soul ever since you woke up. This is not your body, you don’t belong there; you belong here, in the forest, with him.

“But this is what I am now,” you reply with a soft voice. “This bag of flesh and bones is all I am now.”

And you lock eyes with him.

It’s less violent than you thought. A sweet trail of memories, different by way of a thought, seeps into your brain. There are no images, no smells, no sounds, but you’re certain that whatever it is that you feel when you’re close to Yoongi – that’s flooding your memory. And then there’s the forest, engrained in your very nature, in your very soul. That’s when the sounds come in; the birds chirping, the breeze blowing softly between nests of leaves and branches.

But then you feel a sting, and you frown in confusion.

Yoongi lets go of your hand as you walk past him to continue to observe your surroundings. The deeper you go into the greenery, the darker it turns. Suddenly, the trees are black, the sky is a greyish red as an inferno-like sunset sinks into the horizon, there are no more streams of burbling water.

Your corpse, he’s showing you your corpse. All these ashes scattered on the soil, this burnt hell – this is you.

“That bitch,” you whimper, “she killed me.”

The headache worsens, and you almost fall on your knees.

Now you remember the pain, the way you burnt down to your death. The betrayal. A shiver goes down your spine, you no longer see black, eyes presented instead with visions of flames, red tongues devouring everything around them.

You didn’t have blood back then, but you bled. You couldn’t shed tears back then, but you cried. You didn’t have a body back then, but they crushed you, and they killed you. You were killed.

Warm fingers wrap around your hand, pressing tightly. The pain soothes for a second, and you look up at him.

Yoongi.

The bubble that has been resisting to pop in a corner of your head suddenly does; your beloved Yoongi, your lover, your soulmate, trapped in this cell of flesh with you, for you.

“Yoongi,” you cry out. There’s a different tone in your voice, and it makes him look at you, “my love—”

“Y/N?”

And you burst into tears of joy, of sadness, of grief and relief. “Yoongi, I’m alive.”

“Yes, you are,” he whimpers, leaning in for a deep kiss. This time, you know him – he’s your home, after all. He’s the warmth of a fireplace and the comfort of a cat napping on a sofa. He’s the sturdy feeling of wood, the relief of coming back home and taking off your shoes. “You are, my love, and you’re here.”

“Why did they do it? How could they do this to me?” you cry again. You find refuge in the crook of his neck, hugging him tightly.

It hurts, it burns. Your beloved humans, your dear creatures that you nurtured and fed. You had given them wood, Yoongi had given them his craftsmanship, and the both of you offered them the beauty of creation. And they killed you with their greedy, little hands – the hands you now possess too.

“We have to accept that the world we knew in our youth doesn’t exist anymore,” he murmurs, trying to comfort you. “This one is made of concrete and smoke, ever-expanding, ever-destroying. They know no kindness.”

You can’t say it makes you feel better, but it does make you resent them a bit less, and that surely is soothing. They’re capable of love, towards a small group of peers, at least. Maybe it’s true that this world has become more unforgiving than you ever thought it could, so ruthless and crude.

“Let’s not grieve,” Yoongi says then, making you snap out of your gloomy thoughts. “Come on, there’s another place I wanna show you.”

He tugs at your hand, and you follow him downhill.

It’s not long before you glimpse a small but sturdy wooden construction. A house, a pretty cottage, now a bit rusty, but cared for and watched over. A home. You smile – Yoongi leading you to a home, what a surprise.

“So,” you say, taking a look around as you walk into the place after him, “this is where you live?”

“I guess it pales in comparison to your flat.”

You frown, confused. “You’ve seen the place I live in?”

“Of course; I had to make sure you’d be comfortable when you woke up… But I hope you like it. Get comfortable, I’ll make us some tea.”

“Oh, no, I love it,” you insist and take a seat on the soft couch. “It’s so cosy, and warmer than I imagined. And I like it far better than my lifeless flat…”

Yoongi just smiles quietly as he goes into the open kitchen. The cottage is small, and it doesn’t appear to have a second floor. You can see him fumbling with the kettle, humming to himself, and suddenly everything feels just right. It’s weird, you would’ve never imagined you’d find yourself in a situation like this, but with Yoongi, it feels right.

“Here you go…”

You must have been engrossed in your thoughts for quite some time because next time you know, he’s holding out a steamy cup of tea in front of you.

“Oh, thank you.” It doesn’t feel too hot on your fingers, and it’s just warm when you sip it. “Hm, this is good.”

He takes a seat next to you on the comfortable couch, and you feel the sudden urge to get closer. Sadly, you don’t know how he’d feel about that, so you just make do with enjoying his presence beside you. Even if your fingers itch to touch him.

“So, this is it,” you murmur. Your eyes are fixed on his, looking at them in awe.

“What do you mean?”

Your smile puzzles him. “I mean, we’re human now. You became human for me… And we’ll live a human life. We’ll grow old and die…”

“Again,” he adds teasingly.

“Again,” you agree, letting out a soft chuckle.

It doesn’t make you feel bad, though. Just a bit afraid, perhaps, but not bad. You can’t, not now that you’ve got Yoongi back. Your love. A sigh of contentment escapes your lips, and your fingers move to his head, raking through his soft hair. Yoongi mewls at the contact and nuzzles your side pretty much instinctively.

“Can I kiss you?” you whisper, cupping his cheek so that he’ll look at you.

“Of course.”

Pressing your forehead against his, you grasp Yoongi’s chin and tilt it up. The two of you stay still for a second, just looking into each other’s eyes. You missed him so fucking much, even if you didn’t remember him; your soul ached for every second you forced yourselves to stay apart.

Instead of pressing your lips together, you tilt your head to the side to dig your tongue into his collarbone, making him jump in surprise. An embarrassingly high-pitched whimper escapes his lips, he can feel your chuckle vibrate against his skin. You let him know that it’s appreciated, though, sucking the skin of his neck into your mouth.

“Y-Y/N—”

“Yeah?” you purr, too focused on sneaking your hands under his shirt.

Whatever it is that he wanted to say, it looks like he’s given a second thought, now indulging in your tender but eager caresses.

Yoongi’s hips buck against you. You chuckle again, far too amused and eager to see in which other ways he’ll react to your touch. So, you move your hand south and cup his crotch, without hesitation – he’s half-hard already, your eager little boy.

Honestly, you’ve always wondered why humans were obsessed with sex. Since you didn’t have a human body back then, you’ve never had the chance to try it their way. But now you do, and so does Yoongi, so you can’t wait to feel for yourself how come something so regular and natural as procreation has brought almost all humanity crazy since the very beginning of their existence.

But seeing him like this, feeling him tremble beneath you, having this sort of dominance over him that he seems to love so much – it all makes sense now.

“Fuck, baby” – you breathe through your nose, his scent is addictive – “you’re driving me crazy. It’s almost like I can’t keep my hands off of you.” Is this what arousal feels like? Because to you, it feels like you’re about to burst. “I wanna eat you up.”

You go up to kiss him on the lips again. A bit shyly, Yoongi parts them to let you in, lets you suck his bottom lip into your mouth with a whimper. Slowly, the two of you lean back on the couch, pushed down by the weight of your kiss. As you swirl your tongue around his, it gets more intense, more eager, more desperate.

His hands fly to your lower back when you straddle his lap, feeling his hardness against your crotch.

“P-please,” he finally whines.

Hooking your fingers in the collar of his shirt, you pepper kisses down his now exposed chest. “Please, what, baby boy?” you ask with feigned unawareness.

You can’t get enough of his skin. That feeling that you got when you first touched him, it’s everywhere now, making you grit your teeth and making saliva pool under your tongue. Like you’re starving and he’s a delicatessen, your love made flesh, missing lovers finally reunited. How you’ve missed him, how you’ve missed this touch you’d actually never known until now, how you’ve missed having him with you, and letting him know how much you love him.

And now all those feelings tingle under your skin. They’re almost palpable, they’re manifesting within this small, weak, mortal body. It’s in the way your muscles throb with want, in the way your heart pumps blood faster and faster, in the empty feeling in your crotch.

“Have you done this before?”

“I-I’ve played,” he lets out in whisper, “with myself— but that’s it.”

The mental image pushes you to kiss him hard again. This one is even sloppier, a thread of spit dripping from the corner of his mouth. He must be feeling the way you fumble on his lap because he starts squirming, the friction sending jolts of pleasure down his spine. Yoongi’s trying to kiss you back, but it’s almost impossible.

“Stay still,” you chuckle.

He groans again. “I can’t, f-feels so good.”

You bite down on his neck, and he whimpers. His cock throbs, how long are you going to keep this up for?

Like electricity, the feeling of your fingertips travelling down to play with the hem of his shirt. It makes his stomach twitch in expectation, and Yoongi looks down at you when you lower your head to pepper kisses over the trail of hair that vanishes into his pants.

You’ve had enough giggling lovers sneak into the forest to more or less know what you’re doing. You’ve seen enough cocks getting sucked to know not to use your teeth, or to have a rough idea of how long it’ll take Yoongi to come, or what will happen when he does. And God, you’re so eager to see that white stream bubble out of his tip, and hear his sweet, high-pitched moans get even higher when you deny him because you’ve actually planned for him to come inside of you.

Pulling down the zip of his pants painfully slowly, you can get a clearer sight of his clothed erection standing against the fabric of his underwear, which you’re quick to remove too.

“What are you doing to do…?”

“Just some experimenting,” you purr, eyes never leaving his pretty little cock. It springs against his tummy, hard and swollen. Your mouth waters at the sight. “Shit, Yoongi, baby— I can’t wait to taste you. Want me to take off your pants?”

He nods eagerly, and you sit up to tug down at the fabric. Once the smooth skin of his legs is exposed to your eyes and hands, you stroke up and down, feeling the softness of his flesh under your touch.

Without hesitation, you dip your tongue into his slit, making him jump. “F-fuck!”

“Too much?”

“Just caught me by surprise—”

“Mind if I mark you up first?” you ask him instead, and Yoongi nods in a frenzy, taking off his shirt too. “Such pretty thighs, such pretty skin.”

“Please, Y/N—” he begs.

Moving down between his legs, you suck the skin of his inner thighs into your mouth. Yoongi’s hips buckle again, legs twitching. Your lips are so close to his cock, and your tongue felt so good sucking on his tip, now that’s all he can think about, this is all meant to tease him, he knows it. But what can he do when he loves you to death, wants you so bad, needs you so much?

You’ve started to give his balls sloppy kisses, and now you're sucking them into your mouth as much as you can. Yoongi writhes on the couch, hands gripping the cushions as a tiny whimper escapes his lips.

“Fuck!” It only makes his cock throb even more, feels so fucking good, almost overwhelming. Those are your lips playing with the base of his dick, lapping at his balls. “Jesus, Y/N, there, please—” Your thumb finds his puckered hole and presses against it, making him spread his legs wider. “Please, don’t stop…”

“Not planning on that, baby,” you groan.

Using hands and lips together, your other thumb moves to stroke the tip of his cock, dipping into his slit again. You’re doing whatever you feel like at this point, and it’s driving him insane.

This sort of contact is new for him too, though – the feeling of being at someone’s mercy, of putting one’s pleasure in someone else’s hands, especially your hands. Yoongi chokes on a gasp, pleasure pooling in the pit of his stomach. What he feels when he touches himself— this is completely different, this is a kind of bliss from another world; your tongue licks all the way up to his tip, joining your thumb, and his thighs jerk when you finally take him into your mouth.

“Y/N— fuck, fuck,” he cusses silently under his breath. Yoongi’s thrashing with his feet on the couch, throwing his head back against the armrest. “God, t-that feels good, so good, s-so good…”

You hum and hollow your cheeks. The vibrations send jolts of pleasure down his spine, his cock throbs against your tongue. It’s like his whole body is melting into the furniture, and he doesn’t want it to end just yet, but he usually can only keep up with his hand for ten, fifteen minutes.

Of course, it’ll take even less with your mouth.

You pull your lips away, a saliva string connecting you with his tip. “Tell me when you’re about to finish.”

Yoongi nods eagerly – anything for you. Anything for your sloppy kisses, for your wet heat around his cock, for the way you lock eyes with him as you engulf him again, making him whimper at the merciless stimulation.

Maybe his trail of dirty thoughts helps to prompt it, but Yoongi finds himself warning you with a breathless ‘c-coming’ just a couple of minutes later.

“Hm, Y/N, God—” he chews, “I’m close, I’m— I’m gonna—”

With his heart racing, his face grows hot, too hot, feels boiling along with his blood. He can feel the muscles of his thighs practically aching as he tightens them, trying to stop bucking his hips into your mouth. At this point, it doesn’t matter, really; Yoongi arches his back, grips the cushions, tries to hold back his moans when you hollow your cheeks. The sloppy suction finally breaks him apart, swollen lips almost kissing his pubic bone.

“Don’t stop, please,” he cries out.

Engulfed in your wet heat, as soon as Yoongi crosses his eyes with a silent plea, you bob your head up and slide his cock out of your mouth. There’s saliva running down your chin, you’re looking down at him so smugly.

“I thought… I thought you meant something else,” he breathes out, “when you asked me to warn you—”

You kiss his tip nonetheless, and Yoongi whimpers softly. “All in good time.”

What else are you dying to try out with his little cock? Well, there is something you wanna do; with one last lick down his shaft, you say goodbye for now and you come up face to face with him. He smiles instantly, the sight of your soft grin as you stare at him in silence as sweet as honey.

You sink your teeth in his neck again, but this time you go for a mark or two scattered over his pristine skin. He whimpers when you yank his head to the side with your fingers tangled in his hair, cries out another plea.

“God! Oh, shit—”

Finally, Yoongi’s getting louder. You knew he would, eventually, knew he was dying to whine and moan so prettily for you.

“F-fuck!” He yelps and bucks his hips into your fist when you shove your hand between his legs, wrap your hand around his aching cock, and start to pump it without second thoughts. “Fucking Christ, Y/N! I’m gonna— I-I’m gonna—”

You know he’s gonna cum again soon; that’s pretty much your plan – or at least part of it. With a shit-eating grin, you move your hand faster as you go down on him again, gather his precum with your thumb to spread it over his swollen tip with your tongue. His little cock is so flustered and red, and fuck, he’s so wet.

Yoongi chokes on a sob as you bob up and down his length. His voice is deep, but he sounds so breathy and desperate that it’s just as sweet. Losing composure, he can’t keep controlling the burn in the pit of his stomach from growing uncontrollably, swelling inside of him and making him gulp and jerk his hips, chasing your fist like a maniac.

“Oh fuck, yes! Please, p-please!”

His second orgasm approaches faster, and this seems to be more intense, picking up the ruins of his unfinished first climax; it’s written all over his face, o-shaped mouth and crossed eyes, letting out an incredibly high-pitched thread of whimpers and bucking his hips into your hand. You’re quick to lick his precum with your lips, let your spit drip down his length and jerk it faster.

“No!” His cries sound so good, make you rub your thighs together in an attempt to soothe your own ache. “P-please,” Yoongi sobs then, looking at you through half-lidded eyes with a mad-driven smile, “fuck, please— this is fucking torture—”

He’s trembling as he speaks, every single fibre in his body tense and aware of your touch.

“It’d be a waste to have you come with my hand,” you growl as you crawl back to be pepper kisses over his flushed cheeks, “don’t you think? When I may as well fuck you and have you fill me up.”

“W-what if you get pregnant?” he murmurs, not really succeeding at his self-imposed task of hiding his excitement at the idea.

“I won’t, I’ve got something called, uh, an IUD? It prevents pregnancies.”

Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, shit— all right, then there’s no problem? I mean, it’s clear that we’re both clean. Humans can get so many diseases through sex…”

“Well, I’ve technically been in a coma for two years,” you chuckle, swinging your hips. Your entrance hovers over the tip of his cock, teasing him with your wetness. He tenses beneath you but tries to focus on what you’re saying, “and you haven’t had sex since you got into this body, right?”

“Only if my hands and my pillow don’t count.”

“Naughty boy,” you growl softly, bending down onto him to bite his bottom lip.

The kiss grows in intensity, and soon you’re devouring each other, hands dancing and fluttering as you just grab and touch every ounce of skin that gets within their reach. Electricity shivers down your digits, he stirs on the couch as soft whimpers come out of his petal-like lips. A toothy kiss sinks on his neck, Yoongi whines a bit more.

Finally, you get off him for a second and rid yourself of your shirt. Your hands unhook your bra in no time, your boobs bounce under Yoongi’s watchful eyes; they look so round, so soft, perky nipples greeting him in such cold air. His mouth waters.

“Wanna suck my tits?” you ask, comically wiggling your eyebrows.

Yoongi lets out a soft chuckle. “Where did you learn that from? I’m half turned-on, half… I mean—” His eyes travel down to your chest, fixed on them as he loses track of his thoughts.

“I think you’re turned on only.”

“Yeah…” he murmurs, and his eyes are still looking at your boobs. “Hm, yeah, I am.”

“Open up that pretty mouth for me then,” you tease him, making him laugh again. “Show me what that tongue can do, baby— you can make a mess, you can stop drooling over them and drool on them instead.”

He does just that; sticks out his tongue as you lean into him. His eyes are glassy now, his skin feels hot when you hold onto him to fix your posture on his lap. Shit, if you were wearing your underwear only, he’d surely feel how fucking wet you are. You’re literally dying to shove his cock inside of you, clench around it, milk him dry. Want to tear one of those pretty, desperate moans off his throat.

His petal-like lips are attached to your nipple in no time. It makes you groan and buck your hips into his, the pressure of his mouth, the wetness spilling down your breast, the flicking of his tongue. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to take a hold of your waist to make sure he won’t ever fall short of booby material to work his tongue on with.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, gritting your teeth. Your hand soon cradles his nape and presses him against your tit. “F-fuck, baby— this feels really good.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, though – you’ve begun to swing your hips against him, the friction both painful and arousing. It makes him shudder every time you practically bounce on his cock, soft whimpers muffled against your nipple.

Another sigh leaves your mouth. “God, baby, just like that…” you mutter, peeling your eyes open and looking down at him. “Sucking my tits like a greedy baby.”

Your grin just gets wider when he moves to your other nipple, not wasting a second until he’s practically trying to unhinge his jaw so that he can fit your entire boob in his mouth, pinching the other. The feeling of his fingers playing with your sensitive nub sends you overdrive, and you end up pinning him down on the couch under his confused face.

“I’m gonna fuck you, baby boy— shit, look at you.” Yoongi is pretty much out of breath, lips swollen and slick with his own saliva. The blush on his cheeks makes him look ethereal and adorable. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t have any cum left for the next fucking century.”

“S-shit,” he gasps.

So, you raise your hips off him and unzip your pants as quickly as possible. Once you’re completely naked, you stick a finger inside of your cunt just to find it dripping wet and way more sensitive than you imagined. Yoongi stares at you in silence, trying not to get too excited; he’d actually like to last longer than seven minutes inside of you, and your edging has got him sensitive enough already.

It hurts, in some weird way; his cock hurts, his limbs hurt, his jaw hurts. His fingers itch and tingle as he raises his arms and waits for you to finish taking off his shirt. God, even his nails hurt, they ache at his fingers’ desperation.

And, God, so are you.

You throw him onto the couch just to bend down on him the next second, leave crescent marks with your teeth and nails on your pristine skin. Yoongi whimpers again and bucks his hips against you, hot cock brushing against your folds. They’re dripping wet, soaking his length and practically lubing it up.

“Please,” he groans on your lips, “please, Y/N— I’m losing m-my mind…”

“Shut up. You’re my toy for the night, and toys don’t talk,” you let out. But you don’t sound strict, on the contrary, rather amused.

Adrenaline pumps in his spine at your words. They leave him throbbing, salivating almost as he grits his teeth and wishes you’d turn him around and give him a spank – or two. But he’ll be good and wait until you figure out how you want to ruin him today.

When you finally straddle his lap, Yoongi hugs your waist and nuzzles your neck. Your smell is so fresh, so sweet. “So needy,” you chuckle and bite down on his neck, making him whine. “Wanting to get fucked so bad.”

“P-please,” he sobs.

You’re pretty much teasing yourself too at this point as well. Swinging your hips, you sink down onto his cock, going tense immediately at the feeling of him buried deep in you. Yoongi deals with it too as well as he can, swallowed by the warmth of your dripping cunt, thrashing in an attempt to process the heat spreading under his skin.

“God, Yoongi,” you gasp. Your fingers are gripping his shoulders so hard it’ll leave marks. “Shit—”

Just as a try at first, you work thigh muscles and warm up to a brutal pace that has the both of you panting in no time. Yoongi’s lying on the couch, pushed down by your greedy hands who want to have him splayed so that you can nibble and kiss all you want.

This— this is an otherworldly kind of pleasure. The stretch isn’t huge, but the pressure of the tip of his cock makes you groan and raises goosebumps on your skin. Everything is so palpable, such a feeling packed in a body so small and fragile. That’s what makes it overwhelming to have Yoongi moaning and writhing beneath you, victim to your relentless thrusts. He looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, bottom lip caught between his teeth before another whimper escapes from them:

“Fuck! Shit, Y/N, shit—” he cries out. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you. “You feel so good, s-so good!”

Slick drips down to his balls. It smudges with the friction; you’re starting to understand the appeal of staining your loved one with cum. Yoongi pushes against your thrusts, chasing his climax and losing himself in the pleasure. You’re hungry for all these sounds he’s making, wanna squeeze them out of him with a rough grip and your teeth nibbling all down his windpipe.

You lightly run your fingers over his wrists despite the ferocity of your hips. “Such a needy boy— just like that.” Yoongi chokes on a moan when your hands pin him down. “Take all of it. God, you’re a slut for this, aren’t you—?”

“I’m—!”

He twitches again and mewls at your words, arching his back. Almost as if he’s offering his body to you – what a whore.

“P-please, let me come!” Yoongi begs you.

“So soon? Does my pussy feel that good or are you just that desperate for a fuck?” you chuckle against his ear. “Wanna fill me up with your pathetic little dick, huh, is that it?”

Oh, but he’s burning all over. His heart is racing crazily, he’s never felt like this ever since he got this human body. It’s mind-blowing. This knot in the pit of his stomach, the coiling tension about to explode, the ache between his legs setting his nerves on fire that mixes with your wet heat – it’s all so fucking much that he can just moan and whimper on the couch as you have your way with him, which honestly, just makes it all even harder not to come on the spot.

“Yeah—! My p-pathetic little dick— wanna cum!” he lets out in a sob.

“Gotta beg better than that, baby.”

You leave another mark on his neck, hips rolling down onto his cock. “P-please, please, please! Shit! Can’t hold it, baby, I’m— I’m gonna cum! Let me—!”

“Hm.” You inspect his face in silence and pepper his cheeks with feather-like kisses as he whimpers; you’re close, but he’s not going to last long enough. If you do let him come now – which, honestly, you probably will, seeing how hot his desperation is – you’ll have to find another way to climax. “Look at you… You won’t be missing being a spirit even a bit, will you?”

Yoongi just shakes his head and stares up at you with glassy eyes. You click your tongue and grunt permission before sinking your teeth in his neck again, sucking the skin into your mouth. He thrusts up into you a couple of times until he feels his guts tightening.

“Oh fuck, oh, God, please, Y/N, s-so good—!” he cries out again. You can feel his hands gripping your shoulders, leaving marks. Strangled noises coming from his lips, he’s completely lost in pleasure, with his back arched and his eyes crossed. “Just like that, f-fuck! Coming, coming, shit— I’m gonna cum!”

“Come for me, baby,” you whisper in his ear, licking his earlobe.

One last moan and Yoongi’s climaxing with your name on his lips and two thick tears rolling down his cheek. He empties himself inside of you, still sobbing and convulsing, and you milk his pulsing cock until you can’t squeeze any more cum out of him. He seems to be in pain as you fuck his spent length but also a bit into it.

“Oh shit,” he gasps, “hurts, hurts— d-don’t stop—”

You snap your hips onto him more slowly this time. You can feel him massaging your sensitive walls, cum leaking down. “Yeah? Wanna make me come around your spent cock, baby?”

“Come on my cock— please.”

Almost there, you’re almost there – but you have a different idea in mind.

“You know how to use your tongue, baby?” Yoongi looks confused at first, but then you raise off his lap and slide out of his cock, the sight of his cum dripping down your inner thighs makes him understand. He nods softly. “Look at the mess you made… Better clean it up, huh?”

He’s already got his tongue stuck out by the time you sit on his face. Shit, he looks so fucking tempting, like a thirsty bitch, and you’re so turned on, wanna come on his face now.

You feel him lapping at your core and slurping both your and his cum. It’s such a mess, Yoongi’s getting all his face stained with it, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes, lids fluttering shut as some of your slick gets in the corner of his eyes. He moans and groans at all of that, finds it so fucking hot that you’re riding his face and making him suck his own cum to your orgasm.

“Baby, right there—” With your fingers tangled in his hair and his hands cupping your ass, the two of you agree at a frenetic pace, rolling down your hips against Yoongi’s pretty face. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close! Suck it up, babe, suck it all up!”

He whimpers against your folds, and his voice vibrates throughout your core. “Yes, shit, come on my face, please—!”

With more erratic thrusts, you begin to chase your climax as the ache between your thighs expands. You’re soaking Yoongi’s chin with your dripping cunt, but it only makes it easier for him to swap between his nose and tongue to flick your swollen clit. Groans escape from your lips, hips swinging faster, drowning him in your arousal. You’re getting there, just a bit more, Yoongi can feel it too.

“J-just like that, baby!” you grunted. “Fuck!”

Your hips jerk one last time before going still, the tension snaps. The orgasm is strong and long – stronger and longer than you imagined it’d be like. You’re still humping his face, chasing those last remnants of pleasure that still linger in your core before you slow down and stop.

“Wow,” it’s all you can say.

Soon, you find room next to him, and Yoongi sits up to rest on your chest. He likes them, your boobs; you’ve noticed. And it’s kind of endearing that he likes them because you’re happy to welcome his face between them any time.

“Now I understand.” You look down at him. “That obsession humans had with sex? God, now I completely understand.”

“It’s funny; I thought exactly the same thing. Now I understand it too.”

You lie down in silence a little longer, just caressing each other. His hair is so soft, you could spend your entire life stroking it. And to Yoongi your skin feels like silk against his fingertips. You’re so tired. It feels like you’re carrying a thousand lifetimes on your back.

It’s still weird to think about it – to think about how you thought you were a completely different person just some hours ago. How he was sitting in front of you already by the time you woke up after waiting for years. Your long sleep must have been torture for him, you’re glad you don’t remember anything. Now you’re together again, he’s your entire world.

Even though you’re worried about the forest, you know nature will get back its balance. Without you, though. But now you’re something else, you have other duties. You’re a human, you must worry about human things. It’s kind of exciting, actually; a whole new world to rediscover.

“There are so many new things we don’t know about each other,” you murmur against the crown of his head. “Did you know I get grumpy in the morning? And I hate paperwork.”

Yoongi is not answering, so you tilt up your head and take a look at him – he’s fallen asleep already, resting calmly with his face nestled between your breasts. His lips are parted so prettily, you’re glad you got to see it. You might get grumpy in the morning, but he sleeps like a log. The thought makes you chuckle, already wondering what other things you’re yet to find out about him.

With your hands cupping the back of his head and cradling him against your chest, you kiss the crown of his hair. It’s just weird to think that he’s not conscious right now, that he’s given to you the entirety of his safety. And a good job you’ll do.

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

“Eden’s sleep” is copyright ²⁰²¹ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.

[amethystaetae]

Damsel in distress

Type : One shot

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing : SoftYandere!Yoongi X Reader

Summary : When you're broken-hearted from a breakup, Yoongi decides that only he can treat you right.

Trigger Warnings : Obsessive themes, vague depiction of harassment(?), kidnapping

This is in no way supposed to be a depiction of an ideal relationship. This is written only for entertainment purposes only. I do not condone romantisizing any obsessive and abusive behavior in real life.

**********

Same old day ( or in this case , night ) , same old routine.

Yoongi was tired of this job. For an introvert like him , the whole scene of a club didn't suit him. The sweaty bodies grinding on each other , the horrid stench of alcohol, the loud deafening cheers and the dance floor which was abused by pounding feet and broken glasses .

He didn't know how he had survived working at a place like this. He had seen his fair share of drunken fights and sad , broken hearted people coming to drown their sorrows away.

There had been instances where he'd wanted to quit, but Yoongi had landed himself in a place which drew in just the right amount of crowd to pay him handsomely.

So he continued , fishing a cloth from his waistband to clean the counter from various spilled drinks, waiting for the night to pass so he could finally go home and work on his music before letting sleep consume him.

That's when he saw you.

There you were - eyes swollen , h/c hair slightly disheveled, a red body fitting dress hugging all your curves and long legs dragging yourself to the bar as if weights had been tied to your ankles.

Yoongi was frozen. He had never seen someone so beautiful. He remained staring at you even as you plopped yourself on a high chair and requested for "the strongest drink they had'' . He couldn't move, he couldn't hear . It was as if the world stopped moving and the only thing he could see was you.

He was finally broken out of his trance when you snapped your fingers in his face.

You pushed the menu towards him and pointed out to what you thought was the right drink for the night. The name sounded intimidating and you could only hope that it would mess you up enough for you to forget about the thing which made you stumble into here in the first place.

Yoongi had never felt like this before. He bent his head down and moved his hands,blindly trying to reach the ingredients for the drink with a rosy blush on his cheeks.

In his mind,he kept repeating the two words you had softly uttered following him giving you your drink.

"Thank You."

He felt like he got punched in the lungs, air whooshing out of him in a single breath. Even your voice was beautiful, like a choir of angels singing only for him to hear. Perhaps he'd done good deeds in his past life to encounter a beauty like you.

He sneaked in some glances while serving others with shaking hands, growing flustered every time he looked at you.

It isn't till you've downed countless drinks that you break down.

"I mean, not to brag but I did everything he loved and wanted. I-I don't understand what I did wrong that he ended up cheating on me!" You practically wailed and sobbed like a child, attracting a few annoyed looks from people nearby. "Am I not pretty enough? Is that why he did it?"

Although Yoongi wanted to say something, he was really bad at comforting people and so the only words that escaped his mouth were a whispered - "No, you're very beautiful." Luckily for him, you had heard him and gave him a small smile only to start crying remembering how your jerk of a boyfriend never actually called you beautiful unless he wanted sex.

"You know, screw him. I'm going to have fun!" You set down your current poison and stumble towards the dance floor with Yoongi's eyes following your every move.

Yoongi on the other hand was still in awe of how selfless you were. As he heard you rant about the countless things you did for your ex , confusion only grew in his mind.

You were one of a kind. So naive, so pure.

You deserved someone who would take care of you like the apple of their eye. Could he perhaps try to be that person?

He just couldn't understand. The way he felt about you , your unmatchable beauty which you didn't acknowledge and most importantly how badly he wanted to hurt your ex for hurting you this way. It practically broke his heart when he saw your tears leave trails on your cheeks; he never wanted to see your cry ever again.

Yoongi maintains his watch over you and it doesn't take much time for him to take notice of your discomfort when a guy starts to dance a little too close to you. He finally decides to interfere and leaves his place from behind the bar, his feet carrying him to you.

Yoongi quickly but gently grabs hold of you wrist and begins to drag you away. You simply stumble forward with him while voicing your concern with undecipherable mumbles, leaving the creep behind to look for other vulnerable girls to prey on.

"Hey, you're the cute bartender guy, where ya taking me?" Yoongi's cheeks flare up instantly. Did you think he was cute ? You didn't see him as the intimidating guy like everyone did? You truly were special. He would try his best to be the cutest guy out there. Just to make you smile widely like you were right now.

"Hehe you're all red!" Yoongi believed he looked like a tomato by now . He simply remained quiet and walked towards the exit, trying to hide his little grin of joy.

Thank god he was here to prevent anything bad. What if he wasn't? What if something happened to you? Various scenarios played out in his mind which definitely didn't end well. This further proved his worries, he couldn't risk you any harm. He continued on his walk with firmness in steps, a sense of protecting you taking over.

You had fallen asleep a few minutes after he settled you down in the backseat of his car, you being too sleepy and drunk to even notice that you were now in a stranger's car. The ride to his apartment was silent , excluding the hundreds of thoughts in Yoongi's mind on how to make you the happiest girl alive.

He somehow manages to carry you into his apartment without dropping you and settles you into his bed. With that he slides in beside you, underneath the covers, smiling as he watches you sleep, softly tracing your features. He didn't know how he got so lucky, you walked right into his life. It was like destiny. The world was too cruel, he needed to protect you, he would make sure of that.He would get you anything he wanted to make you happy, all he wanted was for you to stay with him, in his home away from the world.

Maybe you'd resist, try to get away and call him crazy but that was okay, he'd know that you were just confused. You'd understand him sooner or later, after all he loved you so very much . This was home, with you in his arms.

****

Welp that's it. It's not that bad eh. I would really appreciate it if you left a comment🥺 👉👈

[heystobitbeach]

You VS Me part 3, final

Wow I hate the chat but the posts are cute ig

And then blah blah, they start dating and yay amirit

I wanted to add another picture but Tumblr said only 10 pics 😔

Tags : @aurora2238 @bluecookies-and-ink

[kaorugg-blog]

Extraordinary Love ( Suga Fanfic ) - Chap. 2 -Acquainted With the Vampires (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/sa13a1unLV Yoon Seo Ri is an orphan aged 18 years old. She lived alone after her grandmother died several days ago. Because of the sadness she felt, she had walked into the woods to calm her mind but she had lost her way home. She was found by a mysterious person who looks like a vampire. Will she follow her grandmother ? Or will she be allowed to continue life as usual?

[madokaakemi]

daegu boy. | min yoongi [completed] (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/0v172sueIL "If I can use my tears to make you smile....then it's more than worthwhile." ••• what happens when a musically talented boy from daegu occupies the empty home beside yours? an encounter with someone new may not be the ideal situation you expect it to be, but love is unpredictable....right? Highest ranking #18 in FANFICTION

[yoopaws]

𔘓 % 𝘆𖦹on𝗴i ! 👒 ‹𝟯 . .

Tags:- ✉️ ! ⌕

#suga #sugaedits #min #minyoongibts #minyoongiedit #yoongibts #suga #minyoongicute #sugaforbts #minyoongi #yoongibts #yoongicute #yoongihot #yoongieditsbts #suga #minyoongisuga #yoongiff #sugaedits #sugahott #suga

#ʙᴛssᴜɢᴀ #ᴍɪɴʏᴏᴏɴɢɪ ♡

[btsfan756]

#jungkookff #bts #jungkook #btsimagines #jungkookimagine #btsff #jiminff #taehyungff #btsfanfiction #jeonjungkook #jungkookimagines #btsimagine #namjoonff #taehyungimagine #jiminimagine #bangtansonyeondan #jhopeff #yoongiff #jinff #jimin #btssmut #btsfanfic #btsarmy #btsedits #jungkookfanfic #jungkooksmut #bangtanboys #jungkookfanfiction #sugaff #bhfyp

[purplebtsuga-blog]

daegu boy. | min yoongi √ (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/PGsa52jepP "If I can use my tears to make you smile....then it's more than worthwhile." ••• what happens when a musically talented boy from daegu occupies the empty home beside yours? an encounter with someone new may not be the ideal situation you expect it to be, but love is unpredictable....right? Highest ranking #18 in FANFICTION

[hoebaring]

Hoebaring's Masterlist

This account is run by 4 writers. Author L, A, P and G

We would like to remind you that these are merely fanfictions.

This is not a depiction of their characters in real life.

We do not own Bangtan or any of the non-fictional characters in real life.

Please do not copy/claim this work as your own since 1) it's disgusting, 2) It's plagiarism (which is technically illegal), and 3) because we've poured a lot of effort into writing these.

Show us some love and support if you like our fics.

Yours sincerely,

Hoebaring 🥰

© hoebaring  all rights are reserved. Translating, modifying, or claiming our works as yours, is not permitted. 

****

Genre Codes :-

Fluff 🥺 Angst😥 Horror😱 Dark🌑 Comedy😆 Action🐱‍👤

****

Kim Namjoon

01 FICS/SERIES:-

Open Books (Masterlist) 🥺😥🌑🥰 - By Author G

An unpredicted switch of journals brings two strangers close. Strangers with similarly perturbing experiences, and beautifully healing souls. Abused, bullied, and traumatized, they help each other, and those around them break away from similar experiences, heal and grow gracefully. With thoughtful emotions, and ever growing minds, Y/n and Namjoon are delicate heroes.

They understand the best in each other, and the worst, like open books.

02 ONE SHOTS:-

None yet

Kim Seok- Jin

01 FICS/SERIES:-

None Yet

02 ONE SHOTS:-

Only For You 🥺🤩😆 - By Author G

A relationship filled with playful teasing, cheesy lines and wholesome love. A package, only for them.

00:00 🥺 - By Author G

And you're gonna be happy..

Min Yoongi

01 FICS/SERIES:-

None yet

02 ONE SHOTS:-

It's Been a Long, Long Time - Author L

Yoongi is disappointed in himself for not being able to spend quality time with his wife. After a tiring day at work for the both of them, he decides to cook dinner for her and the night ends with romance and wine.

She compares her right hand with mine and lets out a soft gasp.

“My hands are so tiny!”

“They’re adorable.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m your wife.”

Jung Hoseok

01 FICS/SERIES:-

None yet

02 ONE SHOTS:-

Sorrowful Love 😥 - By Author A

“There’s no sorrow that lasts forever and there is no love that lasts forever.” He says, hands in his pocket looking at the beautiful girl walking beside him.

“I say there is” she replies as their eyes meet.

“Which one love or sorrow?”

“A sorrowful love”

Park Jimin

01 FICS/SERIES:-

Diamond Heart (Masterlist) ❤️ - By Author P

Lee Su-Jin, an independent woman, finds herself walking into Jimin's life as his makeup artist. She makes sure that her personal life never crosses paths with her professional life. At least, that's what she thinks she does.

Will Jimin be the one to bring down the walls around her heart, or will he have to build walls around his own?

02 ONE SHOTS:-

None yet

Kim Taehyung

01 FICS/SERIES:-

Just The Two Of Us (Masterlist) ❤️- By Author L

In which two ambiverts who are conscientious, resourceful, firm, and slightly egotistic happen to realise, discover, and explore the possibility of being in love. It’s a dream-like almost magical romance focusing on what I love to call “the butterfly inducing effect”. So, get comfy, grab a tub of ice cream, maybe get a few tissues and be prepared to experience romance like no other and fall in love.

I fell in love with you,

I don’t know why,

I don’t know how,

I just did.

02 ONE SHOTS:-

Forever 🥺🤩 - By Author G

His forever, her. Her forever, him. Each other's. No other way.

Jeon Jungkook

01 FICS/SERIES:-

None yet

02 ONE SHOTS:-

Still With You 😥 - By Author G

No matter what, even if it's in the form of simple memories, you'll always be with him, and him, you. You just don't realise it yet.

Other

01 FICS/SERIES

None yet

02 ONE SHOTS

Memories 🎶 - Author G

" 'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories, and the memories bring back, memories bring back you."

[lolabangtan]

han | myg

When yangban member Oh Jook Hee is found dead, Min Yoon Gi, an officer of the Royal Bureau of Investigation is sent to Hangseon to solve it. In order to do so, he needs the help of Oh's former mistress, an outcast prostitute living in a hanok in the outskirts of the city.

However, it might not be easy to get her to help, and Yoon Gi will need to find other means while he tries to fight an odd urge.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of murder, blood, murder.

# police officer!Yoongi, sex worker!reader, sub!yoongi, dom!reader, slowburn, blood Kink, murder Kink? idk these bitches are horny for murder thats for sure, masturbation, unprotected vaginal sex.

Han. In Korean, the collective feeling of sadness and oppression, ascribed to the nation’s extensive history of attacks and invasions from other countries.

A badge of suffering tempered by a sense of resiliency.

The entirety of the hanok is silent this morning. Yoon Gi enters the room and bows to his superior. He is still wearing his mourning clothes and will continue to do so for a while—Oh Joo Kee has died and respect must be shown to his memory.

“Min Yoon Gi-ssi, do sit down,” the man says.

Yoon Gi obliges at once, although without much rush. Once the men are facing each other and the tea has been served, the servant leaves the room and closes the door behind her.

“Oh Joo Kee is dead.”

Yoon Gi nods to show that he already knows.

It is a tragedy. The deceased was the only son of Oh Joo Sa, whose family had not passed the civil service exams for the past two generations and had no known descendants. The family will lose its status and privileges.

It is truly a tragedy.

“His Majesty believes that it is not a coincidence. Oh Joo Sa-ssi’s lands in Jinju were targeted by the peasant revolts almost a decade ago. If the Oh family loses its yangban status, the situation could destabilise again… I don’t think it’s a coincidence either. The Japanese might be behind it.”

“Do we know of any possible perpetrator?” Yoon Gi asks.

His superior nods. “A handful of them, but they all have alibis. I’m afraid this is a premeditated murder, and thus, a great deal bigger than what we think.”

He continues to explain the situation, but Yoon Gi cannot help to wonder whether he is saying the truth—no one liked Oh Joo Kee. He was selfish, lustful, violent, and reckless. A futile lord of his lands, a worthless master of his servants. Perhaps it is in the death of the ruthless where God lives.

There is a bunch of papers and pictures, two quick drawings, and documents about the Oh family’s economic decline. The fresh face of a woman catches his eye.

“That is Y/N-ssi, Oh Joo Kee’s former mistress,” his superior says. “She lives in Han Seong, but one of the family’s slaves claims to have seen her five days ago in the house, a business meeting. She is, however, one of the suspects with an alibi. Y/N shall surely be helpful to the investigation, if not a key part. She knows more than she pretends to. However… hers is the weakest story. You might want to take a deeper look into it.”

The journey to Han Seong barely takes him two days.

Once he crosses the wall, the city receives him as always: low, spacious, and clean. Yoon Gi then spots a group of tiger hunters and asks them to show him your address. He takes the electric trolley across town. When he arrives, it takes him a few seconds to gather the will to knock on your door.

Your house is certainly not what he expected. Harlots and prostitutes do not tend to live in luxury after they are abandoned by their protectors. You, on the contrary, live in a magnificent hanok.

Amidst all that debauchery, however, there is only solitude. There is no vivid hustle nor the common grind of such big houses. It looks like an abandoned place, once alive but no longer so. The gardens are ashier than green.

A cold, dry wind blows through his chest and Yoon Gi finally dares to walk towards the gate.

It takes quite a long time before someone opens the door. “Good day. I’m here to see Y/N-ssi,” he says. “I come from the Royal Bureau of Investigation.”

The servant nods, grimacing, and tells him to wait as she informs her mistress.

Yoon Gi is lead to a sitting-room. Another servant, a much younger girl, serves him some tea and says that you will be downstairs soon.

You walk into the room and he, at last, has the chance to see you in person—loose hair, wearing a silk robe, à la japonaise, which covers with indifference fortuitous part of your body. You might look dishevelled, but he does not know the level of decency that is to be expected from a woman who was willing to sleep with a man like Oh Joo Kee for money.

“Min Yoon Gi-ssi,” you purr, “I do not know if I am delighted to have you in my house. Do tell me, business or pleasure?”

“Business, most certainly,” he rushes to clarify, although he is not sure if there is really a difference between those two things for your clients. For you, there most certainly is.

You shrug your shoulders in dismissal, lamenting the dull nature of his visit. Not all men have such handsome, small features. Sitting in front of him, you take the teapot and pour the tea, waiting for him to continue.

“You surely know, madam, that Oh Joo Kee is dead.”

“Dreadful news.” Your face shows a most unconcerned grimace as you hand him his cup. “I hope his family can recover from so awful a thing…”

“He had no family left—his father decided to leave this world, and he was not married. Only his mother is left to mourn him, but not as yangban. They might lose their status.”

A girlish, sweet giggle escapes from your lips. It is almost cruel, the spite in your voice, rejoicing in a dead man’s miserable loneliness. Were Yoon Gi a man of society who cared about any of that, he would have most certainly frowned at you.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he purses his lips to stifle a smile just as pitiless.

“Do not think me merciless, Yoon Gi-ssi, it’s a grimace of happiness. No clan, no bounds, no responsibilities… That is nothing but freedom.”

Even if Yoon Gi knows what you are trying to do, he cannot help but fall into your trap. He observes the way the soft flesh of your cleavage, which teases him with the imaginary vision of your breasts, moulds around at the slow motion of your arm rising to rest on the table. He knows you are putting him to the test, and he is failing resoundingly.

Yoon Gi wets his lips before coming back to his senses. “That is an uncommon mindset, Y/N-ssi. And a bit unpatriotic—he, who does not love and respect his lineage, cannot love and respect his nation,” he recites, recalling his formation as an officer.

“Good thing I’m not a ‘he’.”

She has a point, he thinks with a laugh.

“I am a woman with no father and no husband to shame with my actions,” you mutter then. Your tea rests, cold and neglected, on the table. “To some, that means that I do not exist. To me, that means that I am utterly and endlessly free. Can you not see it, Min Yoon Gi-ssi? I am an outcast. I live in the outskirts of Han Seong. I refuse to become the second wife or the concubine of a pig who will get rid of me at the first sight of a wrinkle, and I am far too lazy to make them fall in love with me. I do not play along with their game.”

Yoon Gi remains silent, looking at you in the eye. Something in them is tantalising, something sparkling and glowing. Whether or not you are doing it on purpose, he does not know. It does not matter, either way.

“I am afraid I have no more free time to spare with you, Min Yoon Gi. If you have any other questions, then my pockets feel too empty.”

Sighing, he rummages in his vest and hands you a small bag, the clinking sound promising a good amount of money. You take your time to make sure it is a decent payment, even if it surely is not as much as you usually get paid for your services—you might as well charge him less than usual since you technically will not have to work, unfortunately.

“I guess this will do” —you arch your eyebrows mockingly— “for now.”

It feels humiliating, even if Yoon Gi has not paid you to have sexual intercourse. It feels humiliating because you are completely aware of your part of the business, and he does not have the upper hand. Because you do not seem to perceive this as your punishment as a poor woman from the outskirts of Han Seong shoved into indecency. No feelings attached to anything that is not power, money, or information.

you are, after all, not so different from his superiors.

“Oh Joo Kee was smothered to death in his bed four days ago, the day after you visited him to his hanok. I understand, however, that you stopped being his mistress eight years ago.”

“Does the Bureau think I killed him?” you ask in awe.

“The bureau suspects that it was you,” Yoon Gi rushes to reply, rummaging through the papers. “We have a bunch of other suspects, actually. They all have an alibi, including you. There is evidence that you left for Han Seong that same night. All I want to know is if he had any quarrels, if any of his servants or slaves despised him… enough so as to kill him.”

You frown. “I have the train ticket if you need any evidence that I came back before the murder.”

“I would like to see it.”

He stares at you as you send for your servant, wondering how can you afford a house this big and three servants if you are an outcast. You must have some wealthy patrons, then, or quite the business. You tell him something about how much you depend on the girl, how she always remembers where you put your things while you completely forget about it.

“Don’t leave, I need you to put it back later,” you tell her.

As the servant girl awaits, standing awkwardly in the room, Yoon Gi inspects the ticket. It seems legit, and the dates match. The punching is correct, too. There is nothing that could make him think you are not telling the truth.

“Thank you, that is all,” he says, handing it back to the girl.

Now that he looks more thoroughly, she looks rather familiar. There is something in the shape of her eyes, in the curve of her lips, in her pouting, defiant grimace that makes him think that he has seen her before.

“Jang Geum,” you call almost in a growl, “I will see him off. Put it back where it was and go to bed.”

He has noticed your overprotecting tone, too, so he rips his gaze away from the servant and follows you down the corridor.

Yoon Gi arrives at the inn he has booked after taking the trolley from your hanok. The bed is uncomfortable and stiff, it does not adapt to his back, crashing it against the mattress. The sleeplessness is, however, quite lightening: it makes him think the entire night.

Out of all the alibies, yours is the weakest. He has looked and checked the list of suspects, trying to find any name that might raise his suspicions, or whose story doesn’t quite fit, but yours is the only one that catches his eye. Besides, if it wasn’t so, why would his superior tell him that you were important in the investigation?

Your joy at the news of his death doesn’t help, either.

A glimpse of your chest sneaks into his mind, heating his cheeks and sending odd shivers to his lower stomach. Even if he knows it has been your plan all along to take over his thoughts so he could not perform his investigation successfully, Yoon Gi still tries to toss you off his mind. However, you always come back—as a seductive smirk, as two mounts of soft flesh, or as a pair of dark, intense eyes lingering on his memory.

His hand is reluctant when it goes down to reach for his hardening member.

Damn it, you are good. You’re fucking good, and unstoppable, too. Yoon Gi has definitely failed your test.

He has to suppress a groan when the tip of his thumb strokes his tip. It feels hot and is sensitive to the touch, even if it’s only him. Yoon Gi tries to picture how it would be like if it were your hand and not his, if those were your fingers around his throbbing dick, your eyes looking down at him with a mocking smile, your eyebrows arched.

Picturing your chest, picturing your thighs, soft and melting and warm over his chilly skin. He wants to take one of your nipples into his mouth as you take a hold on his hair, pulling as hard as you want. He wants to sneak between your legs and kiss your inner thighs, wondering whether you would hug his head with them.

The motion of his fist is frantic now, uncontrolled. His palm is, perhaps, a bit too dry, but the pre-cum gliding down his length it’s enough not to make it painful in a bad way.

“Fuck—”

He really can’t get rid of your imaginary presence next to him. You are cooing him, telling him when to speed up and when to slow down. Yoon Gi can hear you call his tip ‘a pretty shade of angry red’. Your hand soon covers his and takes over the motion, making him jerk his arm with slower but sharper movements.

Just like that, Yoon Gi-ssi, you purr in his mind. You’re doing so well… I can’t wait to have you inside of me. Just the thought of being welcomed between your thighs sends a wave of pleasure to his dick, making him whimper.

“Please,” he cries, “don’t— don’t tease.”

He’s reaching his high, hips rising from the mattress, heels kicking the bedding desperately. Your eyes remain in front of him, eyeing him with desire. You want to see him burst; he knows it. You want to see him break apart, crumble at the pleasure until he is a mass melting into your soft skin with no wish other than to stay with you forever.

A rush of spit stains his chin, he knows he looks dishevelled and pathetic, dick in hand and almost ejaculating at the thought of your ministrations.

Yoon Gi palms his balls as a finishing touch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— fuck, please, please,” he mumbles to himself, eyes tightly closed.

It’s messy and sticky and nasty, his cum spurting all over him as he arches his back in pure pleasure, covering his mouth to stifle any possible loud moan. There is cum on his belly, all over his clothed thighs, covering his fingers. You would be laughing at him if you could see him like this, and his cock throbs at the thought. Pathetic.

After cleaning himself a little, Yoon Gi gets up and goes outside to light up a cigarette. As the smoke escapes his lips and rises to the darkened sky, he crouches on the floor, thoughtful.

Now that he feels dirty, you don’t seem to be pestering his mind anymore. His brain has decided that it is too embarrassing and is finally on his side. With his head clear, Yoon Gi tries to recollect everything he’s found out about the case.

Yoon Gi then remembers your maid.

I wouldn’t even know where is my head without her. She always remembers this sort of things, you know. I would be lost without her.

It is normal to assume that you would take your servant with you whenever to travelled, including during your business visit to Oh’s house. Two people mean two tickets, and therefore there is one missing. Your ticket might have actually been your maid’s.

His letter to his superior is delivered the next day at seven in the morning, containing a detailed narrative of his suspicions. Once Yoon Gi is ready, he takes the trolley again to your house.

This time there is a cat napping close to the door. Your servant, Jang Geum, is trying to pet him, but the animal doesn’t seem willing to play along with her. She winces at his hiss and steps back when Yoon Gi is walking into the garden.

“I would like to see Y/N-ssi.”

The girl nods and goes back in, shyly gesturing him to follow her. After she asks him to wait in the entrance hall and walks out into the back garden, Yoon Gi can hear her voice informing you about his sudden presence. You mutter something and soon the maid is telling him to come in.

“Did I hit the jackpot, Yoon Gi-ssi, and you are coming finally for pleasure?” you ask him as soon as he walks in.

“I’m afraid not. Would you take me to somewhere private? I must ask you a few questions.”

“About the murder, I suppose,” you retort.

He nods quietly and follows you to the sitting-room where you talked yesterday.

Despite your efforts to seem chirpy and sharp, you clearly look different. You’re acting different, in fact, and Yoon Gi wants to know why—what happened last night that is getting you deeply concerned and incredibly hesitant.

“I know that your visit to Oh’s hanok was on business,” he mumbles, flashing through the papers he’s brought. “What exactly is that business about? I assume it is big enough to provide you with such a property.”

“Trade. I needed him to lend me a hand exporting silk to China.”

Yoon Gi nods again, slower this time. That matches what his informer wrote in the report. He then looks up from the document and locks his eyes with yours, feeling a sudden knot in his throat. The memory of last night, your imaginary hand taking over his to touch him, comes to his head with the strength of a thunder, and he tries to shut his eyes as if that would take away the sweet image.

“Trade?” Yoon Gi repeats to himself. “I wasn’t expecting that. I rather picture you as a political creature than a trader. With the Chinese.”

You can’t help the snort that comes out of your lips. “Politics are not ruled by facts and laws, you see,” you tell him. “They are all about men’s fragility. Of men whose mothers did not want them, or whose confessions were rejected out of hand, or who could never excel at what they liked best. Fragile men, I say. One single suspicion of being dethroned and you’ll have the wisest king maddening and setting his own country on fire. If I can't have you, nobody else will. Please, let me have you. Men of power are the only creatures in this world who, in their pathos, deserve no mercy.”

He doesn’t reply to your comment—if he does, it might linger on his mind forever and make everything in his life crumble down. Instead, he resolves to aim directly at the reason he came to your house.

“And you took your servant with you, of course.” That’s it. Yoon Gi notices the way your brow twitches, your shoulders spiking out as you get on guard like a fucking tiger. “May I see her train ticket?”

“I threw it away.”

You know that you’ve replied too fast. Frustrated because of the stupid slip, you purse your lips and breathe through your nose.

“You… threw it away?” Yoon Gi repeats, almost astonished at your blatant lie. Do you think he’s stupid?

“Exactly.”

It’s not clear whether you’re answering the question from his lips or the one from his mind.

“But you didn’t throw away your ticket. Why wouldn’t you? Surely you couldn’t have known that you would need it to claim an alibi.”

“What a gruesome coincidence,” you say with a blank face.

Yoon Gi decides that it’s time to come back to Gongju, so he rises from his seat to bid farewell. There’s a lot he needs to think about. “You will be hearing from me, Y/N-ssi. Good morning, and sorry to disturb your rest.”

It’s not odd that you don’t bother to see him off this time.

He arrives at his office a few days and a sleepless night later—you’re still pestering his dreams whenever he dares, stupidly, to close his eyes.

“I read your letter.” Yoon Gi sits down in front of him in silence; there’s something in the air he doesn’t like a bit. “I’m thinking of ordering her arrest. If we do, we should do it as soon as possible.

“It’s just a suspicion.”

“Home custody should work for now,” continues the superior, ignoring what he hears.

“I have no evidence,” insists Yoon Gi. He presses his lips together, trying to think, trying to come up with something, anything. Even if you might have done it, he doesn’t want anyone innocent to die. “I will do it. I kill keep custody of her in Han Seong until the detention.”

A shared laughter echoes through the room. His colleagues are looking at each other, laughing with their shoulders.

“Don’t be too rough with the whore,” one says, still laughing.

“She must be used to it.”

Suddenly, Yoon Gi finds himself entangled in your words. Politics are not ruled by facts; they are all about men’s fragility. A sense of hatred washes ragefully over his body, like a furious wave crashing against a rock to which he is tied. His fists tremble. The men are still laughing at the comment while some wonder out loud about the prices of your services.

“This might be our chance to get rid of that parasitic whore for good. Don’t mess up, Yoon Gi-ssi.”

They are not afraid, he senses. They know you have most probably killed a man and think they still are in the position to joke about it with superiority. Pathetic. It’s fucking pathetic. His body twists as he stands on the ground.

Yoon Gi feels powerless, and the desire to explode into flames is consuming him, it’s devouring his consciousness.

His superior calls for his attention again, and Yoon Gi’s guts writhe again. “You should leave as soon as possible, then. Y/N might try to escape and succeed.”

The best thing to do right now is to switch off his thoughts.

You don’t seem at all surprised when he comes back to your house a few days later. Welcoming and easy in manners, there must be something wrong. You must be up to something, he thinks as he walks into the house.

“I know why you’re here.”

That’s all you say about the investigation during that evening.

The rest of your conversation is an intense sharing of sultry looks and flirty comments. Yoon Gi doesn’t know whether you’re trying to seduce your way off the custody or really do want to fuck him dry on the sitting-room table.

“Tell me when you are sleepy and I’ll show you to your room,” you say after a while.

“I can’t,” Yoon Gi rushes to say. “I have to stay with you; here, in your chamber, in the garden—wherever you go. I can’t leave you alone.”

“You can’t?” That damned robe again, it’s barely covering your nipples. The mounts of your breasts tease him with the presumption of what they would look like. His eyes travel instantly to your lips, and then your hands. The tips of your fingers seem soft, they’d be soft with him. Or perhaps not. “Or rather you don’t want to. I don’t want you to leave me alone either, Min Yoon Gi-ssi.”

“Don’t try to beguile me,” he grunts, voice dry.

“I will not escape, and I am not trying to beguile you. I’m innocent” —you chuckle— “in the legal sense of the word.”

You then get closer to him, and his kneecap almost jumps when he feels your skin on his. He’s behaving like a virgin boy, he knows it. It’s pathetic, ridiculous. But you manage, somehow, to always sneak into his mind, to pull his strings and drive him insane, to become part of his heart and body and brain and even his fingertips.

And you fucking know.

“Yoon Gi-ssi,” you whisper.

He notices now that your lips are closer than ever, hovering over his like a teasing shadow. They itch, dying to kiss you. Yoon Gi can’t help it, his hands cupping your face to finally put his mouth on yours.

The kiss his wet, aggressive, skin rubbing against skin as their hands seem too hungry to stay at one place at a time. You groan into his lips—they taste like brine, like spilt tears. As you raise your thighs to straddle his lap, he helps you and tries to find a good stance against the table for balance.

“You’re so hard, and I’ve barely even kissed you, doll,” you mutter, lips travelling to his jaw now and peppering kisses and small bites.

You’ve done more than that, but he’s not gonna tell you about that: the imaginary picture of your soft thighs, warm against his imaginary chilly skin, flashes in his mind as his imaginary eyes look up, up, to your imaginary wet cunt.

Yoon Gi wets his lips in the real world. “Please sit on my face.”

As he lays his head on the floor, you straddle his neck this time, rushing to pull up the silk skirt you’re wearing. He’s looking up at you, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his pink lips, completely ready to please you, until he feels the warmth between your legs hovering over him—now that’s everything he can think about.

The first stroke of his tongue is weak, probing into you almost teasingly. You get a hold of his hair to let him know you won’t put up with any of that, and his clothed dick twitches at the thought.

“You’re good at this…”

Yoon Gi is now softly kissing your lips, caressing your clit with the tip of his nose. The feeling is there, but at the same time it’s not. You buck your hips into his mouth, perhaps too abruptly, you notice, as he grabs your thighs at your onslaught. But he doesn’t seem to dislike it: his eyes are teary and watery, looking up at you almost with adoration.

Feeling greedy, you undo the upper part of your garment and loosen the front so you can free your breasts and play with your nipples.

“You’re getting wetter,” he mutters, amazed. Your legs are trembling over him. “Are you close?”

“Yes.”

His tongue is now attacking your clit on full mast. Yoon Gi keeps licking and kissing, grunting, stroking it until you pull his hair in a warning. Barely a few seconds later, you’re coming all over his face with a blasphemy on your mouth and your eyes shut tightly.

He helps you ride out your climax before it becomes too much.

Something hard bumps into your core when you sit on Yoon Gi’s lap. You see him wince—he must be desperate to cum himself, but there’s hesitation in his eyes.

“May I?” you ask, eyeing his erection.

He nods eagerly, swallowing up a pleading ‘please’. Being drifted away by his attraction to you is enough humiliation for one day.

With the same ease with which you loosen your collar, you remove the ties of his trousers and lower them just to his knees, just enough to be able to watch his dick bounce against his belly. The tip is angry red, almost palpitating, wet with precum. Not big but shaped elegantly.

“I’m sure you’ve already pictured me taking your dirty cock with my hands,” you growl to his ear before biting into his lobe. As Yoon Gi puts all of his attention in your mockery, he doesn’t expect the sudden contact of your soft hand with his dick. “Tell me, have you?” He nods with a whimper. “Did you touch yourself? I’m sure you did.”

“I— I did, and I came, all over myself, like a— like a slut.”

Your teeth reach his lower neck and you kiss the reddening bite mark. “You surely are a slut.”

You start pumping your hand capriciously; sometimes the motion is quick, sometimes it’s too slow and Yoon Gi bucks his hips into your grip unconsciously. Your eyes watching him with such an intensity that he can’t avert his gaze from them. They’re tangling up in his mushy brain, threading into his thoughts, occupying his whole head with sultry whispers.

The fine line between dignity and pride doesn’t exist for him anymore.

As you withdraw your lips from his cleavage, Yoon Gi goes for your chest, ravishing your nipples like an animal. He’s got the same skilled tongue he used with your cunt, after all, so the pleasure is welcomed.

You’re afraid he might forget to respire, his heavy breathing making him grunt and whine, shoving him into a frenzy of pleasure while your hand moves faster.

“Fuck, f-fuck I’m close,” Yoon Gi cries. Every sound is muffled by his heart’s beating.

You know you have to make him cum, but Yoon Gi seems to enjoy this torture just as much as you do. His eyelids tremble with every ministration of your hand, his dick keeps oozing more precum. You can barely tell your skin apart from his. Your thumb goes instinctively to stroke his tip.

“Please!” he cries again. He’s twitching madly.

Cuddling him into your chest with your other arm, you use his back to thrust and rub his dick faster, harder. Yoon Gi is babbling nonsense at this point: praise, pleads, how good it feels.

“Are you going to cum, hm?” you coo.

He nods softly against your chest. “Yes! Yes, please— let me cum, please.”

You palm his balls a little. They feel hard and heavy on your hand, full, and sensitive, too, as Yoon Gi hisses the instant you touch them. The wet slapping sounds increase just as much as the pitch of his whimpers. His thighs tense under yours. I’m coming, I’m coming. Please don’t stop— so fucking good!

“Ah, ah! Right there!” he moans. “Yes!”

The white cum spurts against his belly, thankfully not reaching the fabric of his clothes. Yoon Gi hugs you tightly as the orgasm waves through him, mouth agape, eyes crossed and lost in the air. With the help of the bucking of his hips, you ride out his climax with your slowing hand.

Yoon Gi hasn’t come down from his high yet, so the tingling sensation of your lips against his windpipe appears on a distant realm of his head, him letting you know that he’s not knocked out just with a spasm of his neck. You keep peppering kisses all over his neck, tangling your fingers around his feeble arms.

“You did so good,” you mutter against his ear.

He notices too late that you have tied his hands to one of the legs of the heavy ebony table. With a push of your foot, you throw him to the floor, his back turning over the furniture and falling on it. Yoon Gi can’t get up, it’s too heavy.

“Don’t do this,” he grunts, letting his head fall.

With a deep, tired snort, you chuckle. “I’m sorry, I was having a good time with you. Perhaps when you are not trying to get me hanged, hm?”

You don’t wait for a reply. While he’s still recovering from his climax, you rush upstairs to take your things and fetch your maid. The girl is waiting for you in a small, recondite room of the house with a travel bag and a grimace of fright.

However, once you two arrive at the corridor again, Yoon Gi has already freed himself from your trap and is standing in front of you.

“We need to leave,” you say.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Oh Joo Kee,” Yoon Gi replies, his face blank. “I have reinforcements on the way that will take you to face the death penalty for your crime.”

You can’t help the frown of pain and desperation painted on your countenance. “You have no evidence.”

“Your behaviour is enough evidence,” he retorts, “and your alibi doesn’t make sense anymore. Don’t try to make this any harder. Come with me without putting up any resistance and nothing will happen to the girl.”

But he still senses something unfair in the air. There is something truly unsettling that doesn’t quite fit or make sense, and he stares at you, trying to find out. Why would you take so much trouble for the servant? You’d have time to escape if it wasn’t because you went upstairs to get her. It all becomes too intriguing for him when you toss your bag to the floor and heads to the entrance.

You turn your head to him.

“Do you really want to know the truth, Yoon Gi-ssi? Even though it might haunt you?” He nods, his eyes not leaving yours. “I did not do it—I didn’t kill Oh Joo Kee.”

But the man stops you, grabbing your arm instinctively. There really is something that doesn’t make sense in this story.

“I would rather have my death as quick as possible,” you retort.

“Why, then?” Yoon Gi’s voice echoes through the corridor, a cry against the serenity of your countenance. “Why are you willing to pay for a crime you did not commit?”

But your facade falters for a second—and that is all he needs to understand that there is something else. There is a reason.

The sound of feet stomping down the stairs of the house finally sneaks into your heads. Jang Geum, your servant, falls to the floor in tears of desperation and grabs your legs, begging you with her shivering voice:

“Please! Do not go, please! I beg you, please! I beg you!”

“Jang Geum, stop,” you snarl at her.

The girl presses her wet cheeks against your, her grip tighter. “Please, Mother, don’t go!” she cries.

Yoon Gi does not exactly know what it is, but something snaps in his chest. The girl’s begging, your painful grimace, the reluctance in your voice. Mother. That girl is your daughter, and, from her apparent age, she must be Oh Joo Kee’s, too.

“Take me, Yoon Gi-ssi!” she is now talking to him. “Mother did nothing, I did! I killed him! I killed that bastard!”

You rush to roughly cover her mouth with your hands and a rageful wince, tears threatening to weep down your cheeks at any moment. You call her stupid, foolish, naïve, loud. Whatever it takes to keep her silent and non-existent for the officers outside the house. Jang Geum bites into your fingers and you pull your arm away, startled by the sudden pain.

“I killed him, Min Yoon Gi-ssi!” the girl repeats, now looking a little calmed. “I… I stayed in Han Seong for one more day and disguised as a servant to kill him. It was the right thing to do after I found out… who he was.”

“Your father.”

With a pitiful cry, you crouch down on the floor, covering your face. After he took your youth, your fresh beauty, your virtue, Jang Geum was the only thing he could not take away from you. You begin to shake your head, but no one has time to unravel your message as the knocks on the door are stronger.

You assume that the officers are getting impatient, so you push your daughter into one of the wardrobes and walk to the entrance. Yoon Gi stands in your way.

“Don’t try to be a hero, please,” you whisper, tired.

“The same goes for you.”

“I am not being a hero.” Your voice is soft but adamant, and he cringes in despair. “I am being a mother. Now please, step aside.”

“I can’t,” Yoon Gi says.

Before you can do anything, he rushes to the door, cracking it open without leaving room for you to be seen, and tells the officers that he is still looking for you. He then closes it and goes to the wardrobe to see the girl.

“How did you know?” he asks. “About your father. Who told you it was Oh Joo Kee? Was it Y/N?”

“It was a letter someone left in my room,” Jang Geum replies.

“Let me see it.”

The three of you go upstairs, and you have a knot in your throat. What letter? Whoever put it there, how did they come in? Who would be interested in making your daughter think that is father was actually Oh Joo Kee?

Jang Geum hands the paper to him with shivering hands.

Oddly enough, it is written in hangul, but the strokes are too hesitant for the author to be comfortable with anything other than hanja. It must be a man, then, and one with an upper education. He must have written in hangul to make sure that Jang Geum could read it.

Oh Joo Kee is your father. He ruined your mother and deserves justice. Kill him when your mother takes you to his house and I will take care of the rest. Do not tell to Y/N-ssi about this. I will take care of everything once you are done with your part.

A tempting message, indeed. Yoon Gi turns to you, but you look rather uneasy, not at all reassured now that you have found out how she knows about her father.

“What is it?” he asks, voice filled with worry.

“You stay here, Jang Geum. Don’t go downstairs under any circumstances.”

The girl nods as you close the door.

“It’s not true,” you say once you reach the corridor. “Whoever wrote this, they’re either wrong or lying. Oh Joo Kee is not her father. I took… care during the years I was her mistress.”

Yoon Gi takes a look through the window of the hanok, visibly anxious, before saying. “Leave. Grab the essential and take the train to a safe place without being recognised. I will stay here. I will tell the officers you knocked me out to escape.”

“You’re playing the hero now.”

“What about it?” he snarls back. “Do as I tell you, please. You and the kid—you will be fine.”

“I…” You press your lips together, hesitant. “There is a carriage coming to take us to somewhere safe, don’t worry. We’ll be fine, really… Will you be all right?”

Yoon Gi nods even if he knows you’ve noticed his uncertainty.

You decide that the courtyard is the safest escape. From there you can get to the train station and travel to the border with China, where you still have a house where you keep all the fabrics you trade with. Jang Geum will be completely safe in that house, and you trust the man who is going to take her there.

There’s something crushing your heart between its dark claws. Something eager and expectant, unsatisfied, craving more. Longing for something meaningful.

“Darling,” you tell Jang Geum, “you know what you have to do.”

You kiss your daughter on her forehead, hand her the bag, and turn around to come back to the corridor. The door to your sitting-room is open, so you come in—Yoon Gi looks at you in awe.

“She is safe, don’t worry,” you whisper. “I couldn’t leave you here.”

Yoon Gi frowns. “You don’t understand—”

The door suddenly cracks open, revealing the figure of Yoon Gi’s superior. He smirks when he sees you, probably too pleased with how things have evolved. He looks much older now, his face wrinkled into turpitude and corruption. A soft gag crawls up your throat.

“I would have never pictured you playing the hero, Y/N-ssi,” he says, circling the room towards you. “If you turn yourself in, nothing will happen to Jang Geum. She will be safe wherever she is now.”

“It’s not fair,” Yoon Gi suddenly groans. “Y/N-ssi did not commit Oh Joo Kee’s murder, and the real perpetrator was instigated. Neither of them is guilty.”

Han.

In Korean, the collective feeling of sadness and oppression, ascribed to the nation’s extensive history of attacks and invasions from other countries. Your heart shrinks in your chest, acid, bleeding. A badge of suffering tempered by a sense of resiliency. You want to put your hands around his neck and strangle him to death, you want to watch his eyes eventually darkening, light vanishing from them.

“This is an unfair world.”

A growl echoes through the room, but it is not yours. It is Yoon Gi’s, staring at him with something defiant glistening in his gaze. It feels empowering, seductive, dark. Indulgent in the worst way.

“She knows too much, Min Yoon Gi-ssi,” his superior continues. “Do you remember the assassination of our beloved Queen Min? She is the one who found out that Oh Joo Sa’s brother helped the Japanese. Our nation is in danger and she could be used as a source for information. It’s the right thing to do.”

“You wrote to Jang Geum,” you mutter.

Sadness and oppression. Attacks, invasions, a badge of suffering, a sense of resiliency. He, who does not love and respect his lineage, cannot love and respect his nation.

“You tried to frame your own daughter for murder. Your own blood.”

“I expected Yoon Gi-ssi to be less meticulous with the investigation,” he retorts, chuckling at his subordinate’s grimace of astonishment. “You would take the blame for her and be hanged. The empire would be safe. Here where you see her, Y/N-ssi was one of our best spies. We could not let her go and risk her greed driving her into the pants of the Japanese or the Russians, given how quickly she got into mine.”

“Shut your mouth,” Yoon Gi growls again, “you ungrateful pig.”

“Call me whatever you wish to, Min Yoon Gi-ssi, but remember—this is the moment to choose where your loyalty lies. Either in the arms of a slut or with your nation. Choose wisely. My men are already outside bordering the house.”

You let out the breath choking you and walk towards the window. You then break it with your shoulder, rising your arms to protect yourself. A dozen pieces of glass scatter around the floor.

“There’s no escape,” he insists, unaltered by the shattering noise.

Hearing nothing but your heartbeat in your ears, you pick up one of the sharp, big pieces of broken glass and watch it carefully. Your tongue peeks out to lick your lips, a thousand ideas running through your head.

Yoon Gi seems to read your unhinged thoughts, for he goes to his superior and, to his surprise, grabs his arms to put them behind his back and immobilize him.

“Let go of me, Min Yoon Gi! You owe me obedience in the king’s eyes! Let me go!”

But it’s to no avail—Yoon Gi is in some sort of rageful state that won’t let him put his arms away. As his superior writhes and squirms to get rid of him, you tighten your grip on the glass and slit his throat once, twice, three, four, five times, all with the same strength and wrath, clenching your jaw.

The warm blood oozes furiously from the wound, staining your hands and soon Yoon Gi’s too when his superior turns to him out of shock. Your clothes are a bloody mess, everywhere you touch ends up dyed red. The man eventually becomes still in his arms, now far from your world, and Yoon Gi lets him fall to the floor.

You’re both breathing heavily as you toss the glass to the dead body. Eyes locked, panting, rising chests, fabric soaked in blood. Victorious for a second.

Before Yoon Gi can say anything, you’re throwing yourself onto his lips, kissing and biting and devouring them with a sort of hunger you’ve never felt before. He groans against your mouth and hugs your waist to deepen the blood-flavoured kiss. Their chests feel light as a feather, their limbs tingling into an odd frenzy of sweet ecstasy.

“Sit on the floor,” you order.

He doesn’t hesitate a bit. You straddle his hips without breaking the kiss, too absorbed in his lips. He’s giggling, shoulders moving up and down.

“I can’t believe you’re actually hard.” His slaughter becomes a whimper when you rub your ass against his erection with a smirk. “You’re fucking insane, Min Yoon Gi.”

“You drive me insane,” he breathes against your ear.

You bite into his lobe. “I can drive you to some other things. Care to see, doll?” Yoon Gi nods instantly. “Take off your clothes,” you say, doing the same. You toss away the fabric somewhere and grab his chin, muttering, “I’m gonna put your dick inside my cunt—let us see where that takes you, all right?”

Yoon Gi breathes hard against your shoulder, expectant, and you grab his length to align it with your entrance.

“H-heaven.”

You hum, feeling the delicious stretch as he bottoms out. “What?”

“This is heaven,” Yoon Gi says again, now moaning. “Lord, I could die inside of you, Y/N. Kill me now, nothing is ever going to feel better, I’m never going to be more willing—f-fuck, you’re tight.”

You kiss again when your thighs begin to take on a quick pace. It’s building, your climax. You imagine his is not any different.

“You sound rather articulate for a man who’s got his cock shoved up a cunt,” you laugh, gasping.

The knot in your belly is close to unravelling, so rub your clit a few times, trying to find the perfect pace for your legs. Yoon Gi helps them and places his hands on your hips to help you raise and fall onto his dick. Your voice, which sounds far and not at all yours, tells him that you’re close. His tells you the same just as breathlessly.

Sinking your teeth in the soft flesh of his neck, you muffle a moan, climaxing around his length. The feeling of your cunt clenching around him is too much, Yoon Gi’s eyes have lost all sense of trail, they’re staring at the ceiling, or the dust specks floating in the air, or perhaps he is now seeing God once cum beings to spurt from his angry tip. Your hips are humping him relentlessly to milk him until his jizz is oozing from your entrance.

Yoon Gi looks so handsome, staring at you with glassy eyes that contrast so beautifully with the red blood smudged across his face, breathing heavily as his chest rises and falls.

You kiss him again, slowly this time, and take your time enjoying the puffiness of his lips. He reciprocates gladly, hugging your back before taking your face between his hands to deepen the embrace.

Both of you take your time also to grab, stroke, cherish, feel each other’s skin. Your sensitive nipples brush against his chest and you groan, teeth caressing his jaw. He hugs you tighter to press you against himself. The kiss is now a gesture of something.

Neither of you have ever felt so at peace with the world.

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

“HAN” is copyright ²⁰²⁰ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.

[winterskyminutti]

daegu boy. | min yoongi √ (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/xkSPnuu3wO "If I can use my tears to make you smile....then it's more than worthwhile." ••• what happens when a musically talented boy from daegu occupies the empty home beside yours? an encounter with someone new may not be the ideal situation you expect it to be, but love is unpredictable....right? Highest ranking #18 in FANFICTION

[pregnancyready]

Hi, my Winter Bears !!! This is the oneshot, asked for by one of our lovely Winter season Bears !!! Hope you’ll Like it. Stay delighted, Stay healthy, Sta safe. I purple you !! #YOONGIFF #YOONGIONESHOT #BTSYOONGIFF #BTSFF #YOONGICLEANFF #CUTEYOONGIFF

[lolabangtan]

if you can hear the ocean waves | myg

Two dumb childhood friends embark on a trip to the seaside – as they try to figure out what they will do with their lives if they can’t neither be with each other nor cut off their lifelong crush.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, dumb and dumber in love, a little bit of angst, friends to lovers, mutual pining, soft femdom, drunk sex (non vaginal), infidelity, degrading kink.

# sub!yoongi, dom!reader, oral sex (female receiving), dry humping, fingering, semi-public sex, anal fingering, rim job, spanking, yoongles is a baby boy.

“It’s crazy. How can I hear the ocean in a seashell?”

“It’s most likely that it’s the ocean itself. The seashells captures this noise, and it resonates inside.”

When Yoongi offered you to go with him on a work trip to the sea, you expected to be locked up in the hotel day and night, waiting for him to return from all the meetings and work commitments, or snooping around the city by yourself. That’s why you had a hard time accepting.

Yoongi complains with a hiss. “Misery guts,” he calls you.

However, there you are, lying on the sand at first thing in the morning, drunk on fruit juice and stuffed with grilled meat. Time is not a concept anymore.

“I think I got it figured it out,” he mumbles.

“Of course you do. I just explained it to you, silly,” you retorted with a laugh.

Yoongi sits up on the sand and stares at the sea horizon. His pale legs almost mix with the colour palette around him. He’s gained some weight, too, since last year. Fortunately, he isn’t overworking himself anymore. “No, I mean—about the wedding.”

You hold your breath. He told you he’s been thinking about it lately, after all.

“So?”

But he just grabs his hair, muffling the sounds of his frustrated groans against his knees.

“I don’t! Hell, I can’t-I-forget about it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You were pretty excited about this trip, even if you’re a collateral traveller. It’s been a while since you’ve been to the seaside, so I thought you’d like to come along. It’s been a while since you two last spent some quality time together, too. Perhaps that’s why the mood seems off.

And Yoongi’s acting so weird lately, too. Since the moment you set foot off the train. When he told you he was having doubts about the wedding, you thought he was just freaking out about such a big step, as had so often happened to him, but you could tell – this time, it was different.

It was worse.

“You’re just nervous, Yoongles,” you tell him, pressing your heels against the wet sand, “How about we go back to the hotel and see if they’ve sorted out the rooms?”

He agrees. That’s the best you can do since he knows you’ll end up yelling at him and demanding that he tell you why the hell he’s acting so weird. That way, at least, you can find out if the hotel staff has fixed the problem with the room.

After you arrived this morning, exhausted after hours of train travel and how inhumanly early you had had to take it, the first thing you wanted to do at 8 am was to lie in bed and sleep for the next hundred years, but you two are rather unlucky and the first thing the receptionist said was already awful news:

My bad, sir. I think there was a problem with the reservation and we’ve booked you a double room.

“What kind of cheesy romcom is this?” grunts Yoongi in response. His neck is blushing, just like the tip of his ears. “Can’t you change that, miss? We wanted a twin room.”

“Of course, sir, but it’ll take a while. You can take a look at the hotel facilities in the meantime. The beach won’t be too crowded right now, and there are several restaurants nearby where you and your sister can have breakfast.”

You want to clarify that you are not his sister, but what’d be the point?

“It’s no problem for us to share a bed, Yoongi. I just want to sleep,” you whine, grabbing his arm.

But he shakes you away. “It’s weird.”

There it is. It is indeed weird of him to act like that, and things haven’t changed since this morning. Yoongi’s still being bashful and grumpy, more than usual, and you just can’t grasp exactly why.

And that’s how you two ended up laying on the beach after stuffing yourselves with some juice and tons of food. A pretty good way to spend your time, if they’ll ask you. And a pretty good way to avoid thinking about your best friend not being sure about his wedding, too.

Good news – the front desk clerk tells you that the problem is fixed.

After she gives Yoongi the keys, you two get on the lift and head to the room, almost running. You’re surely on the verge of extenuation.

Two beds. A window facing the sea. A minibar you won’t touch since you don’t wanna get a loan.

“Home, sweet home!” you groan, already feeling sleep taking its toll on you, “Have they told you your working schedule yet? To be honest, knowing the guy, I thought your boss would fill up your ass with assignments as soon as you set foot in town.”

“Fortunately, he hasn’t. Don’t jinx it,” retorts Yoongi as he finally reaches the wardrobe.

Raising your left foot, you push your bed against his. “Oh, no!” you yelp then, “There’s only one bed!”

He reacts to your antics with a scoff.

“God, I’m so tired,” he mumbles while grabbing a bunch of clothes from his open luggage, “Can’t wait to throw myself on the bed.” Yoongi then heads to the bathroom but turns to look at your frowning face. “What?”

“Are you embarrassed to change in front of me?” you ask.

Honestly, you’ve been acquainted with his peepee since he was as tall as a chair. He even asked you, when he was twelve, if it was too short after he pulled down his trousers in the middle of your room. You can’t remember hearing your mother laugh louder than when she came in and saw your puzzled face.

No, Yoongi-ssi, it’s not small. Pull up your trousers so you two can come downstairs for a snack.

You often wonder if her reaction had been so calmed since you had a brother, and you also hope that it is something all boys think about at some point in their lives, and not that Yoongi was the only boy in school who had shown her penis to his best friend in need of feedback.

His voice brings you back to reality. “No, it’s just – it’s cold in here. I’d rather change somewhere warmer, and the bathroom’s got a heater.”

Nodding, you see him disappearing through the door and decide to change there. After all, acting as weirdly as he will only make things worse, or at least incredibly awkward. So, you grab the hem of your shirt and pull up, feeling the chills down your spine. It’s pretty cold, in fact.

“Did you-” Yoongi comes back from the bathroom but stops as he sees you. “Sorry, I— I’ll brush my teeth while you change.”

You don’t really wanna force him to see you half-naked, as weird as that sounds, so you nod and thank him.

Once you’re finished, to tell him he can come in. “Which bed do you want?” you ask.

“The one that’s closer to the bathroom. You know I get up to pee a lot during the night.”

Nodding, you sit down on the other one and stare at him as he grabs the blankets and shoves himself in. “About what you said earlier— are things okay between you two?” You sound like a vulture and you know it, but you do it because you care about him.

Yoongi nods in silence, so you let it be and you get into bed too.

“Cuddles,” he demands anyways, like it’s something he can’t help asking, and it’s enough for you to get it.

You still don’t believe his fiancée is okay with him spending an entire weekend with a girl-friend, even if you’ve known each other since the very day his mother pushed him out of her womb. But it’s okay, because you’ve been doing it all your life.

It just makes you cringe in pain – how out of the question it’d be. “Spoilt baby boy,” you mock, embracing him in your arms.

Truth is that things have been a little weird since you guys finished high school a few years ago. As you grew up, the film of innocence surrounding your friendship went away, and pretending to be his friend became more difficult.

You let yourselves be guided by the rest, and all they said was ‘if you’re not going to date, you can’t keep being friends the way you used to’, and they were right.

Two grown-up adult friends planning sleepovers, sleeping together, changing in front of each other – it couldn’t possibly be okay. So, that must be why he’s being like this. Things had indeed got weird since you realised you’d fallen in love.

Why is he like this? Being all weird one second and cuddly and bubbly the next one.

As for Yoongi himself, he knows perfectly well why. It’s stupid, and pointless, too. But he wants to be close to you, be held by you, be with you. And he knows it’s going to end at some point.

Yoongi’s life is full of pointless why not’s, while the only ‘why not’ that matters is the one he’s not brave enough to do. Why not? Well, there are tons of reasons why not to tell you he’s in love with you, and the main one is that he knows you don’t love him back.

Why not ask this girl he met at this class out? It’s not as if the woman he’s in love with will ever reciprocate his feelings. Why not keep dating her? It’s not as if he wants to stay single forever and embarrass his parents more than he’s already done pursuing music. Why not ask her to marry him? It’s not as if they haven’t been dating for years now.

Hugging each other, you fall asleep almost instantly.

The sun hits you in the face. You can’t go back to sleep, you’re awake, so you turn around to see that lucky honey boy Min Yoongi is still asleep. Then you check the phone – it’s past lunchtime.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, “Yoongi, wake up. Don’t you have work to do?”

He grunts something in his sleep, tangling his arms around you and pulling you closer. God, you hate this, you hate this sudden drive you’d get to kiss him until he’s flushed and panting and putty in your hands.

“Wake the fuck up, you good-for-nothing.”

“Five more minutes, please,” he mumbles against your shoulder.

It’s sunny outside, the typically beautiful spring day, when summer is around the corner but the weather is not mortally hot yet. And you’re purely for leisure, so you may as well enjoy now the sunlight you haven’t been able to get these past few winter months.

“I’m going out to the terrace,” you say, getting out of the bed. As you expect, Yoongi remains silent.

You take a book on your way out and lie on the white plastic lounger that looks like it’s gonna break as soon as you get your ass on it.

Opening your novel, you lie down anyways, intrigued about what’s going to happen in the next chapter. That’s how you spend the next thirty minutes, until Yoongi comes out to the terrace, frowning at the sudden sunlight and probably still half-asleep, looking for you.

“Hey, I just checked and the hotel bar is reserved for a birthday party.”

You finally look away from your book. “Do you already know anything about that work stuff you have to do?”

“I just woke up, Y/N— I have no idea,” he grumbles on his way in.

Yoongi is so bloody stressed. You can see it in the way his heavy eyelids shut, appreciating the sudden chance to rest a little; or how his voice breaks as he almost growls because he has no energy to speak louder.

Whatever is behind him acting like that, it has to be worrying him almost more than what he can handle.

When he invited you to come along to this trip, you assumed that he had to meet with a client and work on a song for them. There’s no other reason you can come up with, and you’re still his best friend, you still want him to feel better.

“How about we find somewhere to buy some drinks and spend the rest of the day in here?”

He looks surprised at your proposal. “I thought you’d like to see the sea.”

“Not right now,” you retort, getting up and approaching the railing, “People saw how good the weather is and are crowding on the beach. It’s all full of kids and middle-aged drunks.”

You and Yoongi decide to stick to the plan of buying alcohol and getting drunk in the room after going out to lunch.

Stuffed once again with food and already tipsy-but-actually-more-like-half-drunk, you catch up on the terrace, talking about upcoming projects and happy incidents that have happened to you lately.

It’s already getting dark and, just as you expected, he doesn’t bring up the wedding again.

It’s not until childhood memories come to the scene that you realise how much you had missed talking to him like this. Two old hands talking about the past as if time was a treasure rotting in the depths of your memory.

Yoongi gets up and stumbles on his way to the room. “We ran out of whisky.”

“And more ice,” you remind him.

You wait for him to come back, but it doesn’t seem to be happening any time soon. The door to the inside of the room is still opened, so you get up to check if Yoongi has perished on his way to the minibar.

He hasn’t. Not entirely, at least— Yoongi is squatting in front of the tiny fridge, savouring the cold air coming out of it. He seems to be in some kind of out-of-body trance.

When you call his name, he turns his head and nods, grabbing the last bottle of whisky and the ice.

“What’s with you lately? Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask, determined to find out at last what the bloody hell is wrong with him, as you follow his petit, sneaky figure back to the terrace. “Fuck, Min Yoongi, really.”

You sit back on the lounger to watch him pour you a glass of whisky instead of answering your question. He’s visibly drunk, and so are you.

That’s probably the reason why, when Yoongi handles you the glass, bending over you, so close that he’s almost pressing his nose against yours – you can smell the whisky in his breath – he looks down at your lips and kisses you.

The drink falls to the floor, breaking into a thousand pieces, as he jerks back. “Sorry. Sorry, Y/N, it-it looked like a good idea. I-”

But you smile, cupping his face so he doesn’t run away again. “It was, Yoongi.”

Then you kiss him back. Yes, it seems like a good idea in your mind. You don’t need to think about it for now. You’ll think about it tomorrow. Not now, because now you have Yoongi’s lips against yours and his body slowly falling onto yours until he’s practically straddling your lap.

None of you know where is this all coming from, although you can take a glimpse at why. Years of yearning, of craving, of pent up yeah, but I’m not brave enough’s – whether it’s a mistake or a dream with consequences.

“I’m so fucking wet.” You feel him tremble over you. “And it’s all your fault. What are you gonna do to fix it?”

Yoongi stares at you in awe. “Now? Right here? Out in the open?”

“Don’t you want to?” you ask, and you want him to be as honest as he can be at this moment.

“Fuck, of course— of course I want to,” he says, taking a deep breath against your still clothed cunt.

Two lifelong fantasies come true the moment he unzips your shorts and pulls them down along with your underwear: yours to be eaten out by Yoongi and Yoongi’s to eat you out.

While the warm feeling of his tongue poking between your lips brings a groan out of you, you slip a leg under his torso until you feel his erection. Yoongi hisses when he feels the pressure of your shin against him and looks at you from his position between your thighs.

“You’re so hard,” you say with a smirk.

Then you rub his dick, savouring the way the honey-like whimpers coming from his lips end up being swallowed by your cunt.

As drunk as he is, Yoongi knows better. He doesn’t hump your leg like a bitch in heat until he creams his pants. Instead, he sets a pace, slow and intense at the same time, focusing on the feeling of his tongue licking your labia rather than how pathetically he’s twitching against your shin.

“Fuck, Yoongi, who would’ve thought— that such a naughty boy could do so well.”

“And I can do far better,” he mumbles, kissing your inner thighs, “You just have to let me-fuck! Let me show you. Please, Y/N, please, I-I can be so good.”

You chuckle as your leg rubs against his crotch. “Make me come and we’ll see.”

Said and done. With one last stroke of his tongue, you feel the climax crawling up to your belly, exploding and taking you with it. You thrust up into Yoongi’s mouth to ride out your orgasm, and he’s pretty happy to feel your shivering thighs tangle around his head.

If only he had a reason to convince himself that it’s impossible. For you to love him. Maybe then it would be easier to get over it and move on.

But there’s a bug in his head that makes him overthink everything: from the way you look at him to the love he can feel under your fingers when you caress him. How does he know he’s not going crazy? How does he know that whatever he does, he’s not making a mistake?

Whether it’s losing the woman of his life or wasting the chance to be with someone who’s willing to spend theirs with him.

With that thought in his head and the image of your face blushing with orgasm; of your wet, agape lips as you catch your breath but that somehow manage to show a confident smirk; then Yoongi erratically humps your leg until he moans with a threaded voice and comes in his trousers.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, pressing short kisses against your inner thighs.

Suddenly, everything goes down—the sky, the blood in his veins, reality, the weight of what you have just done, the rest of the world. All of it comes down onto his shoulders.

“I need to…” Yoongi can’t really connect the words and just gets off you, heading to the room with little balance, “I have to wash up.”

During the painful three seconds you take to tears your eyes away from him, you can see the sneaky way he fixes his trousers, but you decide to think about it later and put your shorts back on. The feeling of the wet patch of fabric against you feels uncannily cold.

When you follow Yoongi back into the room, you want to wait for him to come out of the bathroom. You wanna talk this out, make things less awkward. He just cheated on his fiancée.

Yes, you decide to wait, but Yoongi doesn’t come back on time.

By the time he finally does, you’ve already fallen asleep on the bed, and he stares at you thinking how the bloody hell is he supposed to live now that he’s been this close to your body. Yoongi can still savour you onto his tongue, he can still picture the way your legs shivered around his head when he made you come, he can still feel your warm skin against his.

You. His best friend. That’s what he is—to you, at least. That’s everything he’ll ever be. This trip just made it clearer. This bloody trip made it worse. What a fucking good idea, Min Yoongi genius.

With that in mind, along with the creeping dizziness of drinking too much, Yoongi gets in bed, his body far away from your figure but his eyes incapable of looking away from you now that you can’t look at him with disgust.

When you wake up the next morning, you see that Yoongi’s mindlessly scrolling through his phone, showing you his back.

You want to play it cool, so you smile as if nothing happened. “Good morning.”

He turns around. “Morning,” he mutters back, trying to read you. However, your niceness and your bright smile make him frown, and he ends up pursing his lips. “I… My head hurts so fucking much. We shouldn’t have drunk two bottles of whisky last night.”

There are many things you two shouldn’t have done last night but, for some reason, you’re both happy and terribly devastated that he thinks guzzling three bottles of whisky was the worst one.

He doesn’t remember a thing.

“How about we get a shower and head to the restaurant? I’m starving,” you say.

It’s Saturday already and Yoongi still doesn’t know anything about what work he’s supposed to do there. “Sure. I’ll go first, if you don’t mind.”

You nod.

Even once you’re alone in the middle of the bed, you can still feel Yoongi’s ghostly warmth pressed on the blankets. You hate moments like this; when you think how great it’d be to cuddle him and pet his hair. Now, the feeling is worse, because you can’t erase the memory of his kitten-like lips eating you out.

The sudden sound of a phone takes you out of your painful thoughts and you reach out to see who is calling Yoongi. When you read ‘Kim Minhyuk work’ on the screen, you decide to pick up—it might finally be the assignment he has been waiting for all this time.

“Yoongi-ssi.” The caller doesn’t even let you talk. “I’m Kim Minhyuk, the project manager. I know you’re on holidays, and I hope you’re having as much fun as possible, but I need you to send me the demo from the last-”

It takes you a few seconds to process the new information, but as soon as you do, you have to force yourself to breathe in and out to contain the urge to throw the phone to the wall. “Yoongi isn’t here right now.”

“Oh, I see—can you tell him to send me the demo ASAP, then? I’m Kim Minhyuk,” repeats the man.

“Sure.”

The guy Minhyuk hangs up and you put Yoongi’s phone back from where you picked it up, but your mind is somewhere else. He is on holiday? It doesn’t make any sense, but at the same time, it puts all the pieces together.

“Y/N!” you hear from the bathroom, “I heard my ringtone. Did anyone call me?”

You don’t really know what to do right now. On one hand, you want to beat the shit out of Yoongi until he tells you what the hell is going on.

On the other hand, you can’t help feeling hurt that he lied to you.

“It was Kim Minhyuk, your project manager. He’s sorry that he’s had to call you during your holidays, but he wants you to send him some demo song. Also, he hopes you’re having fun at the beach.”

It takes him a few seconds to understand the situation, but Yoongi eventually does—and a deep blush takes over his ears and neck. “I can’t keep lying, can I?” he says with an embarrassed chuckle, “It’d be pointless.”

“Kinda,” you agree.

Your silence moves Yoongi into spilling his guts, although now the entirety of his face is flushed and reddened, and he’s fidgeting, butt sitting still on the hotel room bed.

“I need to ask you a question first.” It’s not until he sees you nodding that he speaks again. “Do you want me to get married?”

You stare at him in silence, again. What kind of question is that? Of course you don’t. But Yoongi reads your puzzled face and cringes at the idea of having ruined everything. For a moment, you’re glad he can’t remember anything of what happened last night.

As certainly as it is that it’ll remain in your head as your most cherished memory.

“Even after what happened yesterday?” he continues.

Oh. So Yoongi does know. He just has been getting along with your apparent amnesia. That makes you wonder what on earth does he actually think about it.

“I don’t,” you say.

Fair enough. What is life if you don’t live it with a little bit of courage?

“What?”

Chuckling, you repeat yourself. “I don’t want you to get married, Yoongi. I’ve never wanted you to. But what else can I do? You’re my best friend. I can’t just tell you, ‘hey, don’t marry her’. Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, it makes sense.” Yoongi then nods with a smile that is crying on its own.

“It’d be selfish to put my feelings before yours.”

He holds your intense gaze, trying to figure out what that means—trying to figure out if that means what he thinks, what he hopes it means.

“We’ve been talking.” Yoongi’s voice breaks. “She asked me if I really wanted to get married and, well, I couldn’t keep lying to her anymore. She doesn’t deserve it. She… She deserves better, she deserves someone who’ll love her with all their might. Someone who can love her the way husbands should love their wives.”

“And you are not that someone?” you ask weakly.

Yoongi finally gathers enough courage to look up at you. “Not to her. I… I want to be that person to someone else, if she’ll let me… I’ve always been your best friend. Small, grumpy, anxious, introvert—totally not like you. How could I think that you-that you’d ever see me that way?”

He’s going full throttle now with his declaration of love, for better or worse. If it’s up to you, it’s for better, of course. So, you take pity on him and crawl across the bed towards him.

“I do see you that way. I always have, in fact.”

Just like he did yesterday, Yoongi cups your face and kisses you. Shyly at first, although you try to encourage him putting your hands over his to pull him towards you.

“You’ve been so dumb, lying to me like that,” you growl against his lips, “It really makes wanna be mean.”

“Be mean to me, please. I deserve it.”

You let out a groan of frustration and bite his bottom lip. “Fuck it, Yoongi, you can’t just say something like that and expect me not to go fucking berserk.”

“Then do it!” he cries, thrusting up into nothing. He’s already hard. “Go fucking berserk on me! As fucking berserk as you fucking want! Shit, Y/N, I’m gonna come all over myself without you even touching me and it’s going to be all your fault!”

“And you were crying me to punish you two seconds ago. Turn over.”

He obliges immediately, and you straddle his back, grabbing his chin to pull him towards your chest so he doesn’t even think that you’re going soft on him.

“You’re a fucking slut. A bit of spanking will do you good. What do you think? Hm?” But you stick two fingers in his mouth, and all he can say is a babbled ‘yes’ as drool leaks down his lips. “Can’t hear you, babydoll.”

Yoongi is sucking and licking your fingers wet, soaking almost. “Y-yes, yes, please!” he manages to say despite his tongue being rather unavailable.

This has all escalated so bloody quickly, but you can’t say you’re not enjoying it. After feeling him coming over your leg, you can’t just have enough of him and his whines, of the way he’s offering himself to your touch.

Once Yoongi’s finally silence again, you kiss him again. “So, since you remember what happened last night, let me tell you,” you whisper in his ear, fingers lingering on the back of his throat and making him gag. The goosebumps he’s getting right afterwards taste like honey. Your honey boy, always. “I haven’t forgotten how hard you came back then when you humped my leg as you ate me out.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer—he just lowers his head, embarrassed not only by your words but also by how much they’re turning him on.

“Take off your clothes.”

The man turns his head to look at you. “Fuck, yes. We’re-we’re doing this?” he then asks, stripping immediately.

Licking your lips, you decide to stare at his body instead of answering to whatever he’s told you. He has definitely gained some weight. He looks like a fucking meal and you haven’t had eaten yet—Yoongi’s gonna be your breakfast.

Once you have him back into his former position, you can now stare at the back, too. At his soft thighs, as his squishy ass, at the sneaky vision of his balls and his hard, dripping little cock.

You fix your eyes on his entrance. “You can’t come until I say so, you hear me?”

He nods eagerly, so you take a hold on his hips to keep him still and kiss his inner thighs, making him wince against your hot lips.

“Relax,” you coo.

Focusing back on his butt, you pool some spit on your tongue and keep it loose, teasingly licking his entrance up and down. Once you feel your tongue getting tired, you use it to poke in, but only let in the tip.

Yoongi chokes on his groan. “Shit! Please, don’t-don’t tease.”

You decide to use your lips instead since he’s feeling so demanding today. You’ll get back at him for it later.

It isn’t until you begin to kiss his ass that Yoongi goes feral. Letting out a breathy moan—that sounds dangerously similar to a desperate, whiny whimper—he grabs the blankets with his fists and thrusts back into your mouth.

The way your nails softly scratch over his ass cheeks is a warning, one he gets immediately.

“Ready for more, babydoll?” you ask.

He nods. “Yes! I’m so close! Y/N, so close, I-I need to come, please.”

Your index finger strokes the flushed rim and, once you are sure that it is sufficiently dilated, you slowly insert it. Yoongi seems to be okay with the intrusion, so you pump it a few times to see his reaction, which is, honestly, delightful.

“That’s-” he moans. Then you bend your finger downward and rub your pad against his walls. “That’s my-shit! Yes, please, I’m gonna cum, please! Don’t stop!”

You pull your digit out of his entrance, ripping a complaint out of his lips. “Lie on your back.”

Once Yoongi obliges, you take a look at him, at how he’s splaying all over the blankets, limbs shivering and eyes glowing. The little sweat he’s exuding is concentrated under his chin, so you bend down to wipe it away and deliberately tilt up his head so he doesn’t look at anywhere else but you.

“Do you like it, baby? You like my fingers fucking your pretty little hole?”

“Fuck, fuck! Not gonna last, Y/N, not-not gonna last,” he grunts against your neck, “Please, please, cum on my cock, I don’t wanna last two pumps.” Yoongi doesn’t even know what he’s begging for anymore.

“We don’t have condoms,” you remind him.

“Yes, I know, fuck—then let me make you come first,” says Yoongi, already on the brink of his climax. He won’t last long enough for you to bring yourself to orgasm with your fingers. “Please, I can hold it, p-please. Last night I couldn’t do it as well as I could’ve.”

“Okay.”

You give in to his pleas and let him fight the urge to grind against the blankets and finish up himself. The way his dick twitch, resisting the orgasm, makes your mouth water.

“Sit on my face,” begs Yoongi.

Actually, you have a better idea. You might sprain your wrist, though, but it’s worth the try anyways.

Before raising your hips, you turn around, showing him your back. Yoongi’s not stupid, and he gets the idea immediately, helping you sit on his face as you lick your fingers to moisture them so they’re ready to get back to work.

“Shit, Y/N, this is so hot,” he mumbles, nuzzling your wet core.

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to dive in and kiss your core, as or more eagerly than last time. Although you need a few seconds to get used to it and not push your hips against his face until you drown him, you come back to yourself, biting your lip, and insert your finger back into him.

“Yes, Yoongi, you’re doing so well,” you moan right before kissing his inner thighs. You can feel him tensing as your lips travel to his hole. “I’m gonna fuck your ass so well, baby.”

Instead of answering, he just gives your clit a more intense suck, lapping it with his tongue.

Your hand practically ravishes his entrance, going in and out, rubbing his prostate as his hips adapt to your pace so he can get the best out of it, whimpering and begging for you to let him come.

Slowly, the knot inside you begins to unravel. The softness of his lips kissing your labia and sucking on your clit is mesmerising. You sink your nails onto the skin of his thighs, making him groan and fasten his ministrations.

“Baby, I’m going to come, keep going,” you say, thrusting down onto his face.

You do before he says anything, and it’s probably one of the best orgasms of your life. Probably has something to do that it is Yoongi who’s behind it. Who knows. But you moan his name anyways, riding out your climax against his tongue.

Once you can think somewhat straight again, you notice his dick twitching and his balls hardening. He’s close, too.

When you take his dick between the fingers of your free hand, putting your weight on your elbows and pumping slowly, Yoongi finally loses it. “Yes! Yes, yes! I’m coming, please, kiss it, kiss it, Y/N, so-so good! Please, please!” he moans against your core, completely tense and strained.

It’s just a lick, a short stroke of your tongue onto his tip but, added to all the teasing and edging, it’s enough to make him shot his load, staining your hand.

He begins to come down from his high. “You did so well, babydoll.”

Yoongi can barely help you get off him, but he tries anyways, and you end up getting out of the bed so you can go to the bathroom and get yourselves some tissues. Your cum-stained hand isn’t going to clean itself.

“I know this is… I know this isn’t really the time to ask this but—what are we?” he asks as you clean his belly.

“I don’t know.” With a sigh, you throw away the dirty tissue. “You’re still engaged, Yoongi. I think you should talk to your fiancée first. Before talking about anything with me. You’ll have to explain the situation to her so you don’t hurt her.”

Yoongi chuckles. “She knows. I told her—about my feelings for you. We met the day she found me crying in the restroom of our school after you posted a picture with your new boyfriend.”

You raise your eyebrows, stunned and hurt that you were so fucking blind, but your grimace quickly vanishes when you feel him hugging your waist. Cuddles, he demands with his eyes, as always. And you oblige, as always.

Everything’s silent, pleasantly so. You can hear the ocean waves.

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“IF YOU CAN HEAR THE OCEAN WAVES” is copyright ²⁰²¹ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.