pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: angst, smut, a hint of fluff
word count: 4.1k
It doesn’t make sense. But now that you’ve realized, it never did. Nothing that spiraled inside the orbit called Min Yoongi ever made sense. You tried to dig deeper into the part of your brain that supplies common sense, and was met with emptiness – nothing. He was in love with music, you were in love with the scent of a newly purchased novel. He was always indulging his time with the things he love, you were busy picking which papaya is ripe enough for you to devour the following day. There was no union in the sets of Venn diagram called Yoongi & Y/N. The two of you wouldn’t have met if it wasn’t for the accidental mix up of letters in your apartment’s mailbox. It really was strange, but fate has a funny way of interlacing your life with someone else, didn’t it?
Min Yoongi. The name itself delivered a dull kick that resounds in the back of your mind. It was torturous, really, his whole existence was. But you’ve began to appreciate him for his quite grumbles, mindless complains and fancy choice of words.
You stumbled outside your friend’s car and shot a quick “thanks for the ride!” before trudging along the apartment’s entrance and into the warm lobby. The rain ceased its song of sorrow a few hours ago, but the harsh wind still serenade this part of the city with its fast-tempo melody. You welcomed the heat briefly and walked straight to the reception area.
“Anything for 93?” you asked eagerly, knowing well that there was a small package waiting for you to lay your hands on, from your sister. She was older than you by two years, began her search for love at the young age of seventeen and fell in love with her best friend that has been there all along since high school. Hopeless romantics. The type of people that you struggled to avoid because once they figured out your monotonous love department, they would start to see you as experiment x and would try to reassure you, “Maybe your love is in a deep slumber or something. Just wait.”
In all honesty, you appreciate their comforting words but you were starting to grow weary of them putting love on a pedestal. Maybe it was because you haven’t found it yet. Yet.
“Just a package and a letter.” Joe murmured grudgingly and handed the things to its rightful recipient. You immediately snatched them from Joe’s hands, “Thanks!” you shouted gleefully before making your way to the elevator. Your impatience took the best of you and you halted to as stop to examine the letters. You skimmed the envelope of the first letter and squinted at the last two digits of the apartment’s address: 0193. You turned around and through to the reception area at the same time as a young boy roughly your age.
“I think you gave me the wrong letter, Joe.” You said at the same time as the boy in black shirt.
He cocked his head to the side and gestured for you to see the letter he mistakenly received. 0139. You took the opportunity to take a good look at him. His complexion was the first thing that you noticed, his skin was milky white and his slender legs was covered in a tight ripped jeans. His messy black hair was kept in a grey beanie, and the veins in his arms were visible in the low light of the lobby.
“Oh I must have mixed it up. Sorry.” Joe said behind the table, snapping you out of your reverie, and you had to blink a few times before your eyes could focus back to Joe. You motioned for him to hand you over your letter while you offered his.
“Thanks,” you mumbled softly at him and saunters back into the elevator. You were in desperate need of a shower and food, lost in your own thoughts on the list of possible restaurants still opened at this hour, to notice he was in the elevator with you until he pressed the number 3 and 9.
“You’re going to the ninth floor right?” he asked. Now that you were free from the noises in the lobby, you could hear his low voice that was surprisingly deeper than you thought you heard.
“Yes, thank you uh, what’s your name?“
You weren’t good with conversation and let it end as it was. Rolling his name on your lips and staying quiet until the elevator slows to a stop at your floor.
“Well it was nice to meet you, Yoongi.” You said before stepping out and offering him a smile. He nod in response before the doors closed. And you thought that was the end of it.
The loud ring coming from the small alarm on the table beside you brought you back to life. You opened your eyes and indulged in the comfort your warm blanket offered you. You stretched your hand, and felt Yoongi beginning to stir from his sleep next to you.
His phone vibrated on the table next to his side of the bed, and you strained your eyes to make out the caller ID.
It was the girlfriend.
Over the past few weeks after the incident, you managed to bump into him, whether it was by the lobby, the mini mart down the street and even in the elevator. He was the first to break, asking for your number. The casual texts turned into flirty banters, which leads to getting under the covers with him. You asked him on one occasion, whether he was fine with all of this and he shut your mouth with a kiss before murmuring, “Less talking more fucking, yeah?”
You knew he was not available, and somewhere along the line, both of you agreed to a mutual conclusion that this was a secret. This whole thing was, and for a while you’d like to believe that you were okay. This was okay, and you promised yourself you wouldn’t let him complete you the way you envision him too.
He was rough the other night. His thrusts hard and fast, not keeping a tempo. He wanted to occupy every fissures and all the curves of your body. Touching you in places that you’d never thought was pleasurable. Kissing your neck and taking your breasts into his mouth, swirling your nipple with his tongue before teasingly biting down. His skillful hands making their way into your sensitive bud while he pumps in and out of you easily, his length covered in your juices, making you forget about everything else except for his name.
You were his muse, his source of pleasure, and his momentary comfort. But you were a secret. His secret. He loved his girlfriend, and their relationship was on their third year together. She was soft, and patient, and loving – she was like water flowing down the river in the early morning, moistening the big stones from over drying because of the fierce sun, while you were earth. Motherly, hard to please, constant and tainted. He loved her, and she loved him, but she could not pleasure him like you did. In terms of sex, she was vanilla and you were a kinky, thirsty girl. Albeit Yoongi was a reserved and calm person, he was filled with desire as well and she was not there to help him find his release. You were.
“Wake up sleepyhead, I gotta go to class,” you poked his sensitive side a few times before he grabbed your wrist to stop you, drawing small circles after you halt.
“I’ve been awake since an hour ago. You’re just too much of a cow to notice.” His raspy voice tickling your right ear. He pulled you closer to him and squeezed you tight, as if showing you how much he loved you, but you knew better. He was just an affectionate friend.
“She’s calling you,”
“You can answer the phone if you want, I’ll shut up,”
He made no move to reach his phone and you suppressed the urge to smack yourself with a lamp post. How could he answer the phone when you, the other woman, was there in his arms? You willed yourself out of his warmth and sauntered into the bathroom. You sighed heavily before locking the door shut behind you as tears rolled freely down your cheeks. You turned on the shower loud enough to drawn out the cries that escaped your lips, as you scrubbed yourself clean. Clean of him.
You stepped out of the bathroom in your jeans and t-shirt, checking the time in your phone. You’re off to a great start, having an extra 40 minutes in your hands.
Yoongi was still there on your bed, fully clothed this time, and furiously writing on his notebook. His bed hair spiked in all directions, and you had to control yourself from running your fingers through his hair. It was always like this after sex, a moment where everything felt right and you two were wrapped in your own cocoon of safety. Your favorite time of the day, until you drifted to sleep and wake up the next day with your alarm ringing and his phone vibrating. Same old, same old.
“What are you writing?” you walked over to your side of the bed and plopped down next to him. He glanced at you for a second before continuing to stare down at his notebook. Eyebrows scrunched, his teethe capturing a fraction of his bottom lip, and his concentration was evident on his face. Cute. You tilted your head to peek into the paper but he flicked your nose, “No peeking. Give me five seconds,” You laughed at his child-like behavior before glancing at the time. Still 37 minutes left.
You played with your phone instead, scrolling through Instagram and checking your unread messages when Yoongi casually ripped a page from his notebook and dangling it in front of your face. You took the paper from his hands and stared at its content. He didn’t utter single word, using his time to observe your reaction instead.
My soul calls for you
underneath the bed sheets
A voice in the realms
echoing alone, waiting
We walk different toads
but look up to the same stars
And I fell for you
Even if we’re meant to part
You loved him. God you loved him. He was not the type to write long texts or even poetry, but he tried for you. You recited his piece in your head, over and over again even when you’ve reached the final word. Every word was a prayer you keep in your heart. He watched your face lit up like fairy lights circling the Christmas tree in the cold nights of December. And he watched you fall apart when you realized that yes, you were his muse, but you were never the final receiver of his masterpiece. You imagined the blood rushing to her cheeks, painting it a rosy hue, as she read the lines over and over again, while Yoongi and you were something she can’t see. You forced the familiar sting in your eyes to subside until you’ve composed your expression to a neutral state before offering him a piece of your mind.
“Yoongi this is beautiful,” you managed to croak out leaving any traces of sadness or disappointment that might be laced with your voice.
“Really? I was afraid you’d think it turned out shitty,” He couldn’t stop the grin threatening visualize on his face. You loved that part of him, too. The part where he was insecure and thought he wasn’t good enough when in reality, he was perfect.
“It’s good Yoongi but listen my ride’s here I have a class to catch up to,” you patted your jeans and reached for your bag. If you’d stayed in his company a little while longer, that little heart of yours would break even further.
“You do you, Y/N.”
You walked out of the room before he could mutter anything else. You hoped he hasn’t lost your apartment’s extra key yet, or else he’d be locked inside until you came home.
The cold auditorium bites through your skin and made your bones shivered. You couldn’t focus on anything the lecturer was saying, and your only friend ditched out on class last minute. You were alone, and naturally your thoughts began to wander to Yoongi. You realized that he was an incurable disease inside you, filling your waking thoughts until you willed yourself to snap out of it.
Once the lecture finished, you quickly stepped out of campus and signaled a cab. You were tired, and you just wanted to go home. Not to Yoongi, but to the comfort of your bed. You jolted awake when te car screeches to a halt, realizing you must’ve fallen asleep along the way. You handed the driver a few dollar bills before opening the door.
You were so used to this routine that you automatically punched in the ninth floor, knowing Yoongi like the back of your hand, he would be buried in his work with an empty stomach. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was fast asleep on his desk or lazily typing on his laptop somewhere in his apartment, but you weren’t prepared for this.
You stepped out of the elevator fully prepared to surprise Yoongi into waking up. You stride down the hall and used the extra key that he gave you to let yourself in, and what a sight it was. He was adding his finishing touch, packing everything that could be packed in his two large suitcases. He froze as he was caught red-handed by you, a shocked expression in your face, not understanding what was happening.
“Yoongi,” you started and he walked over to you. Each second that passed by felt like an eternity. He snaked both his arms around your body and rested his head on your shoulder.
“I need to go home,” he muffled through your shirt. Home. If he was going home, then he wasn’t coming back. “She needs me,” Yoongi continued as if reading your mind to the questions popping up one by one in your brain, “She’s going through a rough patch and she needs me.”
I need you. You thought to yourself as a strangled sob escaped you. Yoongi held you in his arms, drawing figures with his thumb into your skin that you wished would be embedded for an eternity. Your hands that were limp by your sides returned his embrace and you pressed yourself against him tighter, like you were trying to remember every inch of him.
You breathed him in and you felt needles prickling your heart. You were never going to smell this cologne the same way anymore. You planted small kisses on his neck and pulled back just enough to hold his face on your hands to kiss him. You wanted him to remember your touch, and the way his name rolled out of your lips, you wanted him to remember you.
He returned your kiss feverishly and gently nudged your mouth with his tongue, asking for entrance. Your tongues wrestle for dominance as Yoongi deepened the kiss, holding the back of your head with his hand. His skillful tongue explored your mouth, a threat to your already weak knees that could give out any second. He brought you against the door and continued to connect his lips to yours hashly. You could feel his hands sliding down into your bottom, his fingers poking your ass to lift your hips. The sensation of his bulge rubbing your covered core earned a grunt from him. He rocked slowly against you and grabbed your hair to tilt your head back.
“Yoongi please,” you breathed out, your body still rocking back and forth against him. He listened to your request loud and clear, and carried you across the room onto his bed. Your back bounced on the bed and a second later his lips were on your neck as he fumbled with the button of your jeans. You lifted your hips to help him slide the jeans down your legs and you paused to pull his shirt over his head before his lips collided with yours again.
His pants were next to disappear and he shot you a displeased look at the abundance of clothing clinging to your body. You lifted your shirt off and was left with only your bra and panties. His dick sprung out as he pulled down his boxers, red, angry and sinful. You opened your bra and slide down your panties teasingly, putting on a little show for him. He watched over your every move like a fox and stroke his dick in his hand.
You were on all fours now, ready to taste him in your mouth. “Hold on a second,” Yoongi set himself so his head was laying on the pillows. “Sit on my face while you suck my cock.” He demanded, and you’ve never felt so aroused by his request that you happily obliged. You crawled over him and he instantly spanks your ass before flattening his tongue on your pussy.
“Fuck,” you moaned out as he starts to draw circles on your clit with his tongue. You squeezed his dick on your hand and pumps it a few time before taking the tip of his dick into your mouth. You eased your throat around his length and swirls your tongue around him before letting his dick go with a pop. His tongue teased up and down your slit, and you moaned at the same time he thrusts into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat.
“Get up,” Yoongi growled and spanked both of your ass cheeks, your wetness was dripping by now. You rolled over to the side and his hands gripped your waist to position you where he wanted you to be. Your head was on the pillow and you knew he wanted to do it his style tonight.
“Look at me,” he whispered, his arms on either side of you as he entered your folds, his dick caressing every inch of your skin you couldn’t touch with your fingertips. He pulled out of you slowly before thrusting his dick all the way in. You arch your back in response as the both of you moan at the sensation. He kept up with his slow pace long enough for you to roll your hips into him, craving for more friction.
“Yoongi please yoongi,” you moaned when two of his fingers started to play with your clit, his thrusts stopping completely as he admired your body writhing underneath him. He draws fast circles on your pussy, the tip of his dick just barely in your dripping pussy.
“I swear to God, Yoongi please,” you tried to grind onto his palm but he held your hips with his free arm, caging you down.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific babe,” he leaned to you to kiss your mouth, overflowing with moans and curses of his name. You kissed him back with the same intensity, your lust taking over you and you reached down to grab his dick.
“Fuck me,” you begged in between heated kisses. “Yoongi for the love of God fuck me.”
He bit down your bottom lip and slapped your pussy lightly, getting you more aroused when you can hear how wet you were. “Gladly babe,” he breathed out, kissing you tenderly when he rammed his length into you, pulling out lightly only to push back inside you with much more force. His open mouthed kisses captured your moans, his front grinding against you, and you could have combusted right there by the close contact.
He groaned as his dick slipped in and out of you in hard, short pumps, his hips twisting at every thrusts now and then. His dark eyes were hazed with lust and his mouth, God his mouth, was shaped In an O as droplets of sweat was embedded on his forehead, his black hair sticking to his face and your name was a mantra he chanted over and over again with each thrust.
“I-I’m gonna come I- fuck I’m coming” you choked before your orgasm washed over you and Yoongi managed a few more thrust before his wave of pleasure brought him down to you, and you held on to him, all your limbs, onto his empty promises and bones, while he, let go.
You were standing in the middle of the lobby, your fingers interlaced with his and your other hand gripping tightly to the box of tissue you grabbed from his apartment. Strangely, you didn’t feel like crying. Everything felt like a gut-wrenching blow to your mind, but it dulled with every kick until everything felt hollow – and the resonating ache was bound to disappear to, someday.
He glanced up from his phone to look at you when you were silent for too long, only to divert his attention to his phone again, typing furiously, to her you assumed. You nudged his arm as a cab slowed down in front of the lobby, dropping someone off.
“Yoongi, take that cab. Hurry,” you let go of your hands that was entwined with his and signaled him to move faster. He had been delaying every minute he could, letting the yellow cars passed by the glass door of the apartment lobby, muttering “there’s still time” or “there are people who need it more than I do” but the clock is ticking and he had to catch his ride now or there would be a great chance of him missing his flight, and you were not up for that. Not when you had braced yourself the moment you opened your eyes and showered this morning. You promised yourself that you would let him go before he could take away any more part of you.
You wanted to laugh at yourself for falling in love when it wasn’t on the menu. Now you had fallen in love with someone whom was not ready to catch you if you fall. And now you were left alone to pick up the pieces and hope it would regenerate. You hoped that this would only be a lesson, a lesson to remember for a long, long time and it wouldn’t repeat itself, because you were scared. Scared that if he was to come back in any way possible, you’d still welcome him with open arms.
“So I guess this is goodbye,” You offered him a small smile and a nudge to his hand.
He lifted his arms, offering you a hug which you accept very willingly. You were a little afraid, and maybe he could sense that. And he returned your grip with an equally tender one. You were afraid of venturing to uncharted territory, discovering new things and meeting someone new. What you had with him, was a sweet saccharine on your lips to guide you to your momentary sugar rush, and Yoongi was there to help you ride it out until you came back down, safe and sound in his arms, even if you were not the only one in his embrace. But he had to go, and you do too.
“I’ll miss you,” was the only words he uttered to you in that moment, and you kept it deep within your heart that even if all of it was a short mistake, he would genuinely miss your company. His eyes held an emotion you’ve never seen on him before: longing. You lifted your hands up to cup his cheeks and brought your lips to his. Slowly, you thought, let me bask in his warmth one last time.
You felt your phone vibrating in your front pocket, signaling your next lecture starting in an hour. You had to grab your laptop from your apartment and then dash to campus. You were the first to break away from the kiss and you felt that kick again, in your heart this time as you patted his arms and sent him away with a wave and a tight smile.
There was no denying that you felt like this wasn’t supposed to be the end. There should be something at the end of the road that could mend the both of you together, in ways you never knew was possible, to make it work. To make this work. Maybe, if he could leave his girl but of course he couldn’t because she was his comfort and you were his temporary. Alas, even the time keeper had difficulties in controlling the flow of time. And as the clock strikes 4, you separate yourself from him. Because nothing stays the same forever.