Breezybangtanbebe - Breezy Bangtan

Hyungwon has no one. No family. No friends. A shadowed past and a grim future. With only his fists and will to survive getting him by. Until he’s faced with the choice between incarceration and enrolling in Brighton Academy, the institution notorious for producing some of the best assasins on the planet.

Teaser.

Chapters: coming soon.

a/n: ive been working on this one for about a year and anticipate dropping it here and wattpad early 2024. I'm kinda excited about it and hope you all enjoy it. ❤️

JJK RECS III

ungodly hour (1) - @explicit-tae

if you watched scandal and need a Hulu account jungkook is happily willing to provide. I love this fic it's so funny and cute to me.

2. suck - @lavishedinjimin

very nasty oh em gee... (this is so hot)

3. piss off your parents - @littlemisskookie

oh god this fits makes me feel so much 😖

4. netflix and chill - @1kook

I love jungkook sm in this fic

5. xx(x)ii - @softyoongiionly

I hear jungkook is really observant actually...

6. the one you need - @sxtaep

bestie jungkook is just so top tier !!!!!

7. the art of wanting - @venusiangguk

this is seriously one of my fav series ever like on any app ever, I love it and I go back and read it sometimes. please read oh em gee!!!!

love u all, happy thursday!!

-- if you guys have any recs that you would like me to read please please PLEASE send them, Im super busy and haven't really searched for fics to read

leigh

| pt i | pt ii

Shownu in his military father era

Christmas at the Office

Summary: Spending Christmas Eve with him was the best present I could have asked for.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

WC: 4,853

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ only content ahead. Please skip this one if you're not comfortable with that.

I veered from the original request for this one a little. This felt right to write. I hope this is okay.

“Yoongi, I finished inputting data for the Im account. I was about to start on Kang, but I’m missing a few documents.”

My heels clicked against the linoleum as I crossed the small office. Yoongi looked up upon my approach. His eyes tired as he blinked away his exhaustion to give me his full attention.

“Mmm. What are you missing?”

“Exclusions and endorsements for the following policy period. I’m pretty sure this one is old.”

He held his hand out for my stack. I gave them up, letting him glance over what I had while I looked up at the clock. 9 PM. He sighed.

“Yeah I think Eunsuk has them. At least, it was his account before it was given to you. Just leave it for now.”

I took it back, not too happy to be leaving it for the moment. Not because it was urgent by any means, but because it was the last account I had to do for the time being. Which meant I didn’t have anything else to do and I would be made to go home. Err, well, Yoongi would ask me to. He’d been trying to get me to go home all evening, but I had refused. Telling him that there were several things I wanted to finish up and it wasn’t a big deal for me to stay anyway.

And that was the truth. If only half of it. The other reason I wanted to stay was because Yoongi was. He almost always stayed late during the week, so I supposed it wasn’t unusual to find him here. Except that it was a holiday weekend. He stretched in his seat in front of me, long fingers reaching up to pull his glasses off his nose to rub his eyes. His dirty blonde hair brushing back as he ran a hand through it, only to fall forward again once released. It was a new color on him. Very different from the jet black he’d had since I started at this company.

Different, but sexy. He looked good in blonde. My cubicle mate, Hanna, was convinced that he must have gone through a breakup of some sort because according to her, “men like him don’t just dye their hair out of nowhere”.

“Is that the last of your stuff?”

I snapped out of my, what could probably be considered inappropriate, ogling to meet his dark eyes.

“Oh, yeah.” I admitted a little reluctantly.

“Good. You should get home then. It’s late and it is Christmas Eve.”

“Aren’t you- I mean, do you still have quite a bit left?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m about halfway through this one and then I’ve got to finish the Park account by Monday.”

Park. That was one of our biggest clients. If he tried to finish all of that by himself he’d be here for hours.

“Why don’t I help?”

He glanced up at me, looking a little surprised I had even offered.

“I mean, with two people divvying up the work, it should go by faster. I’d hate to think you had to spend any more time here than necessary when you could be home with your family.”

I tried to subtly slide the inquiry into the statement. According to Hanna, it was obvious how infatuated I was with Yoongi. No matter how much I tried to brush it off and insist it was only because I respected him. And that was the truth. I did respect Yoongi a lot. He wasn’t my boss, but I’d do anything he asked me to. He was a good employee and an even better coworker. Maybe my feelings did extend a bit beyond the scope of simply respect, but that was secret I intended to take to my grave.

I wasn’t… the typical type of girl men like him went for anyways. I’d always erred more on the curvier side of the spectrum of body types. It didn’t matter how much I dieted or the amount of times I went to the gym every week, part of me was thicker and would always be thicker.

Yoongi’s lips curled up in a faint smile.

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t have a family back home to go to. It’s just me.”

“Oh.” I tried to be nonchalant about it, but to my ears, it came out more intrigued than anything.

“But I’m sure you have a lovely boyfriend at home waiting for you.”

I stared at him even as he slid his glasses back on and looked back down at his computer screen. Was he fishing like I had been? Suddenly I was filtering through past conversations wondering if I had ever said anything that would make him believe I was seeing anyone. I shook my head, laughing under my breath.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. Just me at home.”

One of his shapely brows lifted, followed by his eyes peering at me over the frame of his glasses.

“Really? I definitely thought you to be too beautiful for someone to not be greeting you when you came home.”

I nearly choked on my own spit. The poor papers in my hands crumpling as I curled them into fists. Eyes widening and brain buffering to determine whether my ears had deceived me or not. Yoongi’s amusement told me I had not. I avoided his gaze as my cheeks heated. The last thing I needed was for him to realize how flustered he made me.

“A-anyway, I can stay. If you’d like some help.”

“Well, since you’re offering. I’ll accept graciously.”

“Great. I’ll get us some coffee.” I mumbled.

Turning on my heel, I made a beeline for my desk to drop off the papers that were a little worse for wear now before continuing onto the break room. I took a deep breath, my cheeks puffing out with my exhale as I picked the little red topped cup I noticed Yoongi almost always chose himself. Courtesy of my observant nature when it came to him one afternoon when Hanna and I had been in here together making tea for ourselves. Yoongi had greeted us politely, opening a cabinet right above my head and immediately going for them.

Then again a couple of days later while I was having lunch. Same red top. I might have also noticed that we bought more of that specific line to replace often than any of the others. God there really was something wrong with me. I sighed popping it into the Keurig to brew. I fanned my cheeks hoping to get rid of some of the redness. He couldn’t just say things like that. Otherwise, I’d take them the wrong way. And clearly, I didn’t need help feeding my obsession. But at least I’d managed to score a couple more hours with him. I suppose I would need them when I left here to spend the rest of the holiday weekend alone in an empty apartment. I used the few minutes I could to calm down. Pouring him and myself a mug I replaced the carafe and walked back into the main office. Yoongi had already returned to his work, focus drilled into the account displayed in front of him even as I set his coffee beside him.

“Thank you.” He murmured, pulling the cup a little closer to him before gesturing to the next cubicle over. “Pull up a chair. Make yourself comfortable. We’ll be here for a while.”

Happily, I dragged a free chair over to the edge of his desk. Making sure I could still see his screen too if I needed. But that also meant we were a lot closer than either of us had been to one another before. His knee bumping into mine any time he turned to far to his left. The arms of our chairs pressed to one another and my elbow nudging his. Hoping to distract myself, I picked up the file he had for Park, sorting through it. We worked in silence for a bit. Neither of us saying much while we double checked paperwork and made sure it transferred into the system correctly.

“I have an endorsement that was made for this year’s renewal that’ll increase their premium. Is it included in the policy?”

I leaned a little closer to him so I could see the computer screen a little better. Moving back again to sift through the pile of papers I had scattered across my lap. But I didn’t have anything that discussed the change. I shook my head.

“No, it’s not-“

My words fizzled into nothing when I looked up at Yoongi. He had leaned closer while I had been searching. Eyes scanning every document over my shoulder as I had looked through them. His face impossibly close. I could have fainted at how beautiful he was. Even being tired, the way his eyes blinked oh so slowly and remained half lidded was alluring. The soft slope of his nose that caused his glasses to slip down almost more often than they perched correctly. Long fingers lifting to push them back into place. His lips were wet, an indication that he had indulged in his habit of licking them any time he was thinking hard about something.

“Is everything alright?”

“Hmm?” I hummed dreamily, trailing my eyes back to his to find him eyeing me curiously.

I jolted back to my senses. My knee banging into the side of his desk eliciting a hiss from me. A noise of surprise left him, his curiosity turning to concern.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” I answered a bit too quickly, adjusting myself to create some distance between us. “I don’t have a page disclosing the changes. We’ll have to print one.”

His expression turned dubious, as if he didn’t believe that I was fine, but turned back to his computer anyway. A few quick clicks and he was printing what I needed. I used the excuse of grabbing the paper to get away for a second. Doing my best to ignore the ache in my knee with every step. Ugh, I was pathetic really. I couldn’t be more obvious if I tried. I just prayed Yoongi wasn’t reading into things too much. Him thinking I was weird; I could live with. Him finding out just how completely smitten I was with him?

I might as well start digging my own grave.

I stifled my fourth yawn in the last thirty minutes. My eyes drifting to the clock on the wall to see it was almost 11:30. Way too late for me to be catching my usual bus home. Yoongi followed my gaze to the clock, releasing a soft sigh.

“We can stop here for the night.”

“Are you sure? I can knock back another coffee and keep going.”

He shook his head. “Nah. There’s not much left anyway. I can finish this early Monday morning.”

I frowned, a bit disappointed, but I couldn’t exactly tell him I wasn’t tired. My eyes were finding it hard to stay open. I stood as he did, averting my gaze as he stretched so I wouldn’t have to see his shirt molding to his upper body. I pushed the chair I had been using back where I got it from as he powered down his computer. I was a little unsteady on my feet on my way back to my desk to gather my things. The heels not helping and feeling heavier than they usually did on my feet. I didn’t notice Yoongi following me until he held his arm out with my coat as an offering. I thanked him, slipping it on and grabbing my purse next.

“How are you getting home?”

“Oh, um…”

“You usually take the bus, right?”

“How did you know?”

“I’ve seen you getting on and off a couple of times.”

He’s seen me? I would have bet he hadn’t known how I got to and from work. Any time I arrived he was already here seemingly long before me and always stayed much later than I usually did.

“Come on. I’ll take you home.”

I stifled my surprise at his offer. Following him as he started leaving without waiting for my answer.

“Wait, I can’t ask you-“

“Do you have another ride?”

“Well, no.”

“Then I might as well. Besides, I don’t mind.”

I agreed, if only because I really didn’t know how else I would get home. I could have called someone, maybe Hanna, but I would have felt awful dragging her out of her house on Christmas Eve to come get me. So, I quietly fell into step with Yoongi, trying really hard to not think about being alone in a car with him. Not to mention he’s going to find out where I live. Which is more information than a majority of our other coworkers knew about me. Yoongi’s car wasn’t what I expected. Although now that I’m thinking about it, I didn’t know for sure what I was expecting. But it was spotless. To the point where I wondered if it was brand new. Slipping inside I couldn’t help but sneak a look into the backseat. Also just as spotless.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asked, looking back there himself just as I turned back around.

“No. I guess I’m just surprised at how clean it is. Don’t most guys keep at least a spare set of shoes or a gym bag or something in the back?”

He chuckled, shrugging. “Maybe. But I’m not most guys. Then again, you already knew that.”

My breath caught as he shut the door behind him. Feline-like eyes flitting over to me smugly.

“I- what?”

“I noticed you watch me a lot.” He titled his head. “Is it because you’re simply curious, or something more?”

I tried hard to fight the blush. Being called out so bluntly was true Yoongi fashion, but I wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of it.

“Something more like what?” I laughed nervously, attempting to play off the suddenly tense atmosphere.

He had ditched his glasses back in the office. Leaving no barrier between the intensity of his gaze and my own. I was so used to seeing them on him, but he was just as handsome without them. Maybe even more so. Though I’d be hard pressed to choose. His tongue poked against the inside of his cheek before slipping out to wet his lips like I had seen him do a million times before. The habit that wreaks me a million times over every time he does it.

“I think you’ve known me long enough to know I don’t like tip toeing around an issue, so I’ll be honest for the sake of not wasting each other’s time. I’m… attracted to you, to put it mildly. I won’t lie and say that the glances you sneak at me every day haven’t been wishful thinking on my part whether they mean more than just innocent observation. At least, I’m hoping not.”

I swallowed hard, words leaving me as I absorbed everything he was disclosing to me.

“I didn’t miss the way you just knew what kind of coffee I drink. Or how you kept using work as an excuse to stay with me tonight. And it damn sure didn’t escape me how flustered you were earlier sitting next to me.”

His voice dropped lower with every exposure. All the things I had thought I’d been sly about throughout the evening. I should have known Yoongi would notice. Nothing ever got past him. He shifted in his seat, leaning into his elbow perched on the middle console as another smug smirk quirked one edge of his lips. Deliciously damp lips. That were pink and soft looking.

“Am I wrong?” He purred, eyes roaming my features and possibly lingering on my mouth like I was his.

Though he phrased it as a question. Something in me told me he knew he wasn’t. I slowly shook my head, the movement feeling disembodied even as his smirk widened, flashing a gummy smile that utterly melted me.

“I didn’t say anything earlier because I was worried it would be wildly inappropriate for me to ask in the office. Not to mention I had to be sure first, but I’d give anything to be able to kiss you right now.”

“We’re technically not in the office anymore.” I whispered, leaning into him before I could chicken out.

“That we’re not.” He murmured, closing the distance between us.

I could have died and gone to heaven with the way it felt to kiss him. Months I had spent day dreaming of what it would feel like and now I was actually experiencing it. His lips were soft. Thicker than I had thought them to be, but they felt perfect against my own. The butterflies it sent fluttering within me flapping that much harder when his hand came up to cup the back of my neck. His thumb hooking under my jaw to tilt my head just enough to the side for him to deepen the kiss. This was a fantasy come true for me. Although none of my fantasies had ever taken place in his car, it didn’t matter to me.

I fell into his kiss. Refusing to let the two of us part for even a moment in case it turned out to be a dream. I wouldn’t put it past my lonely self to have conjured something like this up. It wouldn’t be the first time and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last either. As if testing it, I reached out to wrap my fingers around the fabric of Yoongi’s coat. The thick material feeling real enough, but I wasn’t entirely convinced. Letting my hand wander, I slipped my fingers under it, trailing them across his button-up and soaking in the warmth his skin offered beneath it. He pulled back reluctantly, his breaths coming out just a little harsher much like mine.

“We should stop now otherwise I won’t be able to.”

Somewhere deep within me, some part of me might have been screaming at me to heed his advice. That if I let things continue there was a chance I might regret it later. The problem though was that the rest of me squandered that voice, and I was positive that even if nothing besides this one night happened between us, I wouldn’t regret it. Not even a little.

“Don’t stop.”

Secretly hoping he wouldn’t insist we stop; I pulled him to me again. This kiss was feverish. My body floating on cloud nine still in disbelief that I was kissing Yoongi. And he was kissing back. Some of my most frequent daydreams playing out right now. I can’t believe I was getting a chance to taste those same lips I watched him lick so many times over. His lips slot with mine perfectly, never letting more than an inch or two between us in any given moment even as he helped me shed his coat. The cramped space making the task ten times harder than it should be. The sharp sound of his horn pierced the empty parking garage, his elbow laying into it while he fought to rid himself of his coat. I couldn’t help but laugh when we both jumped, our eyes immediately scanning the vicinity even though the chances of anyone else being around this late on Christmas Eve was slim.

“Maybe we should move to the back. There’s more room.” I suggested, hoping this was still going where I thought it was.

“Yeah.” He agreed, glancing back there and nodding. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

I thought there would be more room to maneuver and in theory, I suppose there was a little without the obstruction of separate seats, console, and steering wheel, but the space was still cramped leaving Yoongi and I no other choice except to practically be on top of one another. Not that I was complaining. Especially as his lean body hovered over mine, connecting our mouths while I tried to discard my own coat. As much as I wanted to savor this experience and fully explore Yoongi while I could, the location we decided upon wasn’t exactly practical for that type of lovemaking.

My desire for him ran beyond the point of simply waiting. If I really thought about it, I could probably say that I’d been waiting for months. Even when I tried to distract myself with all those awful social group dates Hanna would drag me to on occasion, everything just came back to Yoongi. He filled my mind during the day when I was forced to work in such close proximity to him and filled my dreams at night when I went home alone. It didn’t matter how much I tried to deny it any time Hanna brought it up, Yoongi was the one man I was convinced I would never have.

At least, I thought so.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, lips alighting every inch of my skin he exposed as he unbuttoned my top.

He dragged his lips over the swells of my breasts, tongue darting out for a taste and leaving me in shambles. Thinking it a little unfair that I was the only one mildly exposed, I reached for him, my shaky fingers trying to make quick work of the buttons of his own shirt. He didn’t seem to mind my struggle, taking the extra minutes it afforded him to worship more of my body with his mouth while tugging my top off me. My breath left me on a harsh exhale when he sank his teeth into the flare of my hips. Not because it hurt, but the way the action itself was so primal, as if he were marking me, skyrocketed my arousal. Something about him laying his claim incredibly sexy. He groaned, sucking on the skin he nibbled on, his hands making quick work to rid me of my pants. I haphazardly kicked my heels off, letting them fall into the floorboard.

“This really wasn’t how I expected tonight to go.” He admitted, chuckling under his breath.

“Me neither.”

Yoongi ditched my pants, leaning forward to plant another hard kiss against my lips before pulling away again.

“Before we get too far into this, I want to tell you that I had planned on asking you to spend Christmas day with me.”

“You can still ask me.” I laughed, working to unbuckle his belt. “Later.”

“Later is good. I’m okay with later.”

I raised my head to meet him this time. Every kiss we shared should have made him more real. Instead, I still felt as if this was some dream I’d wake up from any second. My hands sought him out, touching the bare skin of his chest and sides letting his warmth seep into me. Something I wouldn’t feel if this was simply a dream. I shouldn’t have been able to feel the chill of the air either, but even that was beginning to quickly dissipate with our bodies so close to one another.

Suddenly, Yoongi cursed against my lips.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“My purse. There’s one in the side pocket if you can reach it up front.”

I let him go long enough for him to stretch between the seats, grabbing my bag from the front floorboard.

“I don’t know whether I should be grateful or not.” He teased, biting his bottom lip to fight the smile forming. “Do you do this often enough to warrant keeping condoms on hand?”

I smacked his side. “Of course not. I like to be safe, not sorry. You could at least be thankful that I was prepared. You weren’t.”

“You’re right. I’ll be sure to carry one with me around you from now on.”

“You cheeky jerk.”

He laughed, finally finding what he was looking for. He tore it open, tossing the wrapper away claiming he’ll find it later. He didn’t bother undressing all the way. He only pushed his trousers down enough to free himself before sliding the thin piece of rubber over his length. My excitement buzzed in my lower abdomen like a live wire. Because it had been a while since I’d had sex, or just because it was Yoongi, I couldn’t say for sure, but I’d be willing to bet that it was mostly Yoongi.

“You’re sure?”

“I didn’t get naked with you in the backseat of your car to back out now.”

He chuckled, settling himself as comfortably as he could between my thighs with the minimal space we had.

“Man, you’re feisty when you’re horny. I kind of like it.”

I could have snapped back at him, but he chose that second to press against my opening. The head of his cock nudging against me, stretching me for the rest of him. I bit my lip hard, stifling any comeback I might have managed. Nothing but a soft moan leaving me as he filled me. His tongue darted out to wet his lips again, one hand wrapping behind my knee to spread me wider, hooking my calf in front of the driver’s seat. The additional room allowed him to push into me deeper, his hips nearly flush with mine.

“We’re going to have to choose our next location better.” He groaned, slowly retreating before sinking into me again. “I know you can take more of me.”

I nodded, unable to form a coherent thought let alone a sentence. The ache inside me was unbearable, the need for release leaving me desperate. I couldn’t do much else other than beg him to fuck me. I could worry about taking it slow another time. Yoongi’s mouth attached to mine again, swallowing my wanton cries for him to go faster. One of his hands gripped my thigh, keeping me open and still for his hips to drive into my own, his other palm hit the door behind my head to support himself while his cock ruined me.

I whimpered into him, that sinful tongue of his tracing the fullness of my bottom lip before he bit it much like he had my hip earlier. It was too much and not enough all at once. He drilled into me, almost completely dressed while I laid almost completely bare under him. Fucking me in his car that was parked in a public space under the very building we worked in. A fact that I was sure would be obvious with how the car rocked with his rough thrusts and the windows fogged with our heavy breathing. If anyone cared to be around at this hour and stumbled upon us, they would know.

That thought was more exciting than it was terrifying. Soft curses left his lips, the fingers wrapped around my thigh digging in harder and every stroke of his hips into mine became frantic. His cock swelling within me, stretching me more and leaving me full of him. There was nothing left of me except him. Where I ended, he began. In body and heart. My feelings for him had extended beyond a mere crush for a while. I just hadn’t realized the extent of it until now.

“Yoongi.” My voice came out broken, the pleasure he inflicted affecting me down to my vocal cords.

“I know baby. Me too.” He murmured, kissing me again.

He let go of my leg, slipping his hand between our bodies in search of my clit. The long fingers I watched readjust his glasses hundreds of times before swirling over my most sensitive flesh, coaxing my orgasm from me. I choked on that wave of release, my knees locking around his hips to keep him there as he drank in my cries. His hips stuttered, fighting against my hold before he spilled into the condom, a groan maybe even louder than mine leaving him. He dropped his head onto my shoulder, panting heavily. We both laid there, neither of us willing to pull away just yet.

It wasn’t exactly comfortable, and I could feel just how much of a mess I was down there, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I’d probably gladly lay for the rest of my life if it meant I wouldn’t have to let him go. I sighed softly, running my fingers through his hair. He hummed, turning his head to run kisses up my neck and jaw before finding my lips.

“Come back to my place. Stay the night with me and tomorrow too.”

“It technically is tomorrow.” I giggled, noticing how it was well past midnight now.

“Then spend today with me and I can have tomorrow still.”

“You want to spend your whole break with me?”

“I’d like to spend the rest of my year with you. Maybe even the next one too.”

“That’s a lot of time together you know. We’ll be seeing each other at work and outside of it.”

He smirked, brushing a piece of hair away from my face.

“Good. Maybe that means I won’t miss you so much anymore.”

There is no taglist for this series.

Back to Masterlist | Next

Underwater: Monsta X Hyung Line ❤️‍🔥

A/N: just me thinking about how the guys would react to making their woman squirt. Something short and nasty. Don't mind me.🌚

1.1k words

Shownu

Not really known to be a sloppy guy, Hyunwoo is usually an efficient lover. Even when he cums, he prefers it to be inside of you.

He's not picky about where exactly but it's rare for him to let a drop of his cum sully your skin or the sheets, despite you wanting it all over you sometimes.

Up until the first time he made you squirt.

His muscles strained from hinging his hips back and forth, pinning you beneath him on his king-sized bed. Your legs are pushed back with his hands slotted under your knees and you can barely breathe.

But you'd risk passing out for how heavenly Hyunwoo's dick felt plunging into you at the deep angle.

"Hyun.." you stutter, gasping sharply when the tip of him hits you right on that rigid spot between your walls, causing you to beg for him never to stop.

As if he could. Hyunwoo grunts in tandem with his strokes and all of his body's focus goes into hitting your spot over and over until the dam breaks.

Its warmth is unexpected and the way it makes you clench around his shaft has him gasping.

"Fuck.." he shudders, his mouth hanging open as he leans back to watch his dick spearing into your waterfall.

Your eyes are rolling back into your head and your jaw slacks as you cry out, a shiver overtaking you as you plummeted.

Hyunwoo fucks you through what had to be the sexiest climax he'd ever seen and he couldn't care less about the puddle forming beneath you.

Wonho

Fucking you from behind was when it usually happened. Hoseok had a way of driving himself down into your walls that always hit you directly where your pussy begged to be stimulated.

Your face had become one with the bedding, drool, and tears staining the pillowcase as your lover drilled into you. You hiccuped his name over and over.

To him, it's barely discernable but he loved hearing you groan and whimper for him.

Hoseok's huge hands dug dents into your waist with one foot planted flat beside your knee.

He fucked you hard and precisely, ensuring the arch of your back was sufficient enough for him to be as deep as he can be.

"Let it go. Give it to me.." he growls, snapping into you faster. All the air in your lungs rushes out of you the moment you're hit with the hardest orgasm of your life.

Ok, maybe you were exaggerating but it always felt that way when your walls clenched onto Hoseok for dear life. A waterspout of lust erupts all over his shaft, splashing his hairless pelvis and naval.

He tips his head back and relishes in the wetness, pulling your body back against him for a few more strokes before pulling out.

Warm spurts of cum jut from his tip just as it emerged from your dripping cunt, painting your entrance with his signature.

Minhyuk

Oh, this sadistic fucker makes it his goal to make you squirt.

One hand around your throat, the other busy strumming your clit at a torturous pace, Minhyuk bucks his hips upward as you ride him tirelessly.

His bent knees gave you the support needed to maintain a steady bounce and your back arched the moment you felt him hitting just where you needed him.

The sheets were already wrinkled and wet from the last time you came on his dick but he didn't care. He needed to feel that rush again and again until you had nothing left to give.

"I...I can't..Minnie please.." you mewl, screwing your eyes shut from the intensity.

He smiles cruelly at your pitiful pleas for release, his fingers and hips never stalling their efforts to push you over the edge again.

"Yes, you can. C'mon..just one more.." he urges, his brow inverting when he feels you squeezing him.

It was as if lightning had struck within your core and your entire body trembled as you released the monsoon of satisfaction all over Minhyuk's hard veiny length.

It sprays all over his pelvis and he curses loudly as he too returns your gift with one of his own, filling you up with his seed.

Kihyun

Kihyun was addicted to making you squirt. It was the highlight of his day and night. Especially after he'd had a terrible one.

He found solace between your thighs with his lip caressing yours. His tongue dips between them to part you slowly, flattening to lick a sinuous line over your pink flesh.

His hands curl under your thighs and he hoists them up over his shoulders as he nuzzles your heat, licking your clit until you shake.

He switches his tactic quickly from slow licks to quick pressured flicks of his tongue, humming in harmony with your moans. You grip his hair and writhe beneath him, lifting your head to watch him work.

His eyes are closed softly and his expression is relaxed from what you can see. He seems comfortable teasing your sensitive bud and he doesn't stop until he slides two fingers inside.

"Want you to cum baby.." he slurs in that deep drunken tone that drives you wild. His fingers fuck you slowly, gently stretching you before finding exactly what he was looking for.

Kihyun resumes laving your clit with his tongue, swirling and flicking it as he rubbed against your G-spot roughly. He knew what he was doing and exactly what your body needed. It was overwhelming and heavenly all at once, and it was not long before you felt that familiar tingle rippling all over your body.

"Kihyun! Oh fuck..Ki.." you cry out as his fingers curled slightly as they dug into you. Your hips lift from the bed and he follows you, never letting up. You're canting by now, letting him know that you were close. He hums against your pussy in encouragement, his eyes now open and locked with yours.

His name dies out to a hoarse gasp the moment the rush of your release spurts out to a chorus of moans and chuckles. Kihyun's busied tongue pauses over your clit but his fingers never stop pulling your trigger and he bites his lip as he relished in the warmth of your juices splashing him in the face.

He opens his mouth to catch what he can and leans forward to replace his finger with his tongue to finish you off.

At this point, your tensed legs fall open like butterfly wings, lifeless and flimsy as you surrender to the luscious feeling of Kihyun licking you clean.

🌚Might do a part 2 with Maknaes🌚

Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop | MYG

▻ Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop ↳ ArtProfessor!Yoongi x Artist/CoffeeShopOwner!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Cozy Romance ⤜ Coffee Shop/Art AU | fluff, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 8,028 ⤜ Summary: It’s like clockwork; you receive the same online order every weekday morning at eight o’clock: large decaf iced Americano, picked up promptly shortly after. His face has become familiar, as a part of your routine as the hiss of the espresso machine. Until, one day, that routine takes an unexpected turn, and you find yourself getting familiar with more than just his face. ⚠️ Very mild language, panic over student/teacher potential date (reader is a student, but she's the same age as Yoongi, just taking classes later in life than most), oral m receiving, fingering, kissing, mild dirty talk, cum swallowing, confessions of the heart

A/N: This is part of my 'Heartbeat Melodies' mini-series, where I write fics that are inspired by songs. If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this, you can find it here! A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi & @moonleeai for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

“Large decaf iced Americano,” you call out, barely glancing up from behind the counter.

A deep, familiar drawl pulls your attention, “That would be mine.” It’s only familiar for the fact you’ve heard that voice nearly every day for the last six months.

Your eyes snap up from the tablet, where the next online order has come through, to meet warm brown ones. “I should have known,” you reply before you can think better to bite your tongue. Heat suffuses your cheeks. You pull your lips between your teeth to stifle the groan of embarrassment that begs to be released.

The man chuckles, absently using a knuckle to push up the hornrimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that comment. But, I guess I do come here a lot.”

Nearly every day for the last six months, at least. That’s how often he comes here—to your coffee shop. It’s tiny, barely big enough for a handful of small tables and chairs. But it’s yours, and you’re proud of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to seem…” you trail off. Not sure how to finish that thought because you’re not entirely sure how you meant it or why you said it other than the fact you’re a bit frazzled this morning and apparently forgot your mouth filter at home. It was a late night last night for you. It's not an excuse, but still.

He waves a large hand in the air, dismissing your apology. “Please, it’s quite alright. I’ll take it as flattery; could use a little boost to my confidence anyhow.”

That almost makes you sputter in disbelief. There’s absolutely no way this man needs any flattery. Surely, he comes by it in droves. Because, well, he’s honestly so gorgeous it should be criminal.

His hair is fluffy, somewhere between charcoal grey and black, though the warm lighting of your cafe gives it a golden honey halo effect. The eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses are dark swirls of espresso that match his coffee order—a straight nose sitting above soft, pink lips that have a light glossy sheen to them.

As usual, he’s wearing a pressed slack and jacket combo, a cream-colored collared shirt underneath with a bold print tie. His choice of ties is what drew you to him in the first place, and made you pay a little closer attention to the mysterious man behind the large decaf iced Americano.

You clear your throat, daring to be bold, while it seems you’ve no filter to stop you. “Well, if you ever need further flattery, you know where to find me.” It’s clear that you give him an assessing once over, his eyes locked onto yours as you do so.

“Do you paint?”

The question throws you off, nearly making you drop the tablet in your hands. Your fingers flex against the case, your thumb brushing along the glass screen. Busying yourself with reviewing the next order on the screen, you turn, giving him your back as you decide how to answer his random question. You’ve never actually had a conversation with him; this man that you feel like you know yet is a complete stranger.

“Why do you ask?” you deflect as you go through the motions of scooping grinds and swapping out the portafilter for a freshly filled one. However, you know it’s not always polite to answer a question with a question; you’re just not sure how to decipher his curiosity or where it came from to begin with.

The bell above the door rings, and you wince as the espresso machine gurgles and hisses loudly as you mechanically pop a cup in the machine and hit the brew button. The noise fills the quiet space of the coffee shop. It’s not until the cup is filled, you’ve added two lumps of sugar, and you’re grabbing a lid that the man responds.

“There’s paint under your fingernails. Or, at least, what I would guess is paint.”

Glancing down at the cup in your hand, you take in the colorful myriad of flecks coating your skin. The colors fill the grooves of your knuckles and hug around the bed of your nails.

“Double espresso with two sugars,” you announce, ripping your gaze from your hand to the interior space of your cafe. A woman steps around the man, giving you a hurried smile as she holds out her hand to receive the cup. You hand it off. “Have a good day.”

Giving the cafe's inside a quick glance, you ensure all the customers within are taken care of. A college student is busy pounding away at their laptop keyboard in the corner, utilizing your free wifi. A half-empty cup of hot cocoa sits cold and abandoned beside them. A trio of friends sit at your only table big enough to seat more than two people, laughing softly and sipping hot lattes and teas. No one seems to need your attention; except the man still standing there, large decaf iced Americano in hand.

You lick your lips, a nervous habit you picked up after endless stressful nights pouring your heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into opening the small cafe. Most believed it would flop; others rallied to your side and helped your dream come true.

“Look, sorry if I’ve overstepped somehow,” he begins, but you shake your head, letting him know he’s not.

Gesturing at the wall behind the man, you finally answer, “In my spare time.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes zigzagging across the giant unfinished mural covering the windowless back wall of the cafe.

“That?” he asks. “You’re painting that?”

It’s hard to decipher if that’s disbelief or awe coloring his voice.

“I am,” you answer a bit hesitantly.

“Wow!” he exclaims, a giant grin spreading across his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. “I’ve been meaning to ask after the artist every time I come in and see something new added, I just uh,” he brings his free hand up and rubs it across the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor under his feet, “well, could never bring myself to.” It’s pretty, the way his cheeks take on a flush of color as his eyes cut to you from over the frame of his glasses. “It’s wonderful work.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help your own flush of shyness at his praise.

“So, uh,” he lifts his cup and gives it a swirl, the ice sloshing around inside, before taking a small sip through the straw, “I know you probably see it on the order, but for the sake of propriety, my name’s Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi, to be more precise, you know. It’s a name you’ve read so many times it’s ingrained in your mind. However, it’s still nice for him to offer it to you. Willingly establishing your connection one step further than his coffee order.

You feel so silly tapping the name tag on the front of your apron, but you do it before you can think better of it, mumbling your name as if he can’t read it for himself after you brought direct attention to it. “Sorry, I’m not normally so weird,” you give a shaky laugh, willing yourself to shut up before you chase him off from how awkward you’re being.

Something changes in his demeanor, his eyes taking on a light twinkle that sits somewhere between mischief and wonder. “I like weird,” he offers casually as if that doesn’t make your stomach swoop and your heart beat a little harder. “Maybe we can talk more about your art sometime. Maybe over dinner? Or lunch if dinner is too forward.”

If you were a cartoon, you’re confident your tongue would actually be tied into a jumbled knot right now with you frantically trying to talk around it, a comical scene for sure. Yet, there is no knot, just a thick feeling that you have to swallow past. “Um, yeah, sure. That would be great. Dinner…or uh, lunch. Both. Either one. Though, dinner might be better considering my hours.”

Yoongi glances at the vinyl hours printed on the front window by the door. They’re backward from his vantage point, but you assume he has no issue reading them, considering he turns back to you and asks, “How does seven work for you?”

“Tonight?” The beating of your heart lurches again, and you can barely hear him over the rushing in your ears.

“Yeah, if that’s not too soon. Perhaps next week, if that’s better? I don’t want to come on too strong. Or well, rather, what I mean to say is, don’t feel pressured.” You can tell he’s feeling hesitant now, trying to backtrack and offer you a way to politely decline his offer for dinner tonight. You didn’t mean to come off sounding so put out. You just weren’t expecting his request to be for tonight.

Mentally, you dig through your schedule. You’re not closing today. Marvin comes in at noon to help with the lunch rush, and then you leave at four to make it to your five o’clock class. It would be today of all days that your new art class starts. It’s the beginning of the fall semester at the local university, and you just so happened to decide to take a few art classes they were offering, the first of which starts tonight.

The class should only be around an hour long, with plenty of time to get home and change before the date. Is it a date? Or just strangers getting together to talk about art? Isn’t that what a date is anyway, though?

“Seven. Tonight. That would be great.”

“Okay, perfect. Can I pick you up? Or we can meet here if that works better.”

It’s endearing he’d offer, both picking you up and meeting in a familiar place. Considering you live above the coffee shop, though, it makes no difference. Though, he doesn’t necessarily know that.

“Here is fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you tried that steak house on the corner yet?”

“The new one that opened last week?” He nods. “I haven’t, no.”

“Perfect.” Yoongi smiles. “Here, at seven. Consider it a date.” His smile falters, and his brows pinch, forming a line between them. “Not that I…well, it’s not that…it doesn’t have to be…if you don’t want this to be a date, that’s—”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, giving him what you hope to be a warm smile to ease his mild panic. “I’ll see you then, Yoongi.”

“See you then,” he responds, tacking your name on at the end in his deep drawl. The way it sounds coming from his mouth should be added to one of those spicy erotica audiobooks you may or may not have downloaded on your phone.

Just as Yoongi is leaving, it’s like the world finally takes a breath, and the exhalation that follows brings with it a rush of early morning commuters seeking their morning fix. The everyday bustle and hubbub of the day filter back in, and you’re soon lost to the sway of the shop, coffee, tea, and cocoa. It all comes alive beneath your nimble fingers, much reminiscent of the way holding a brush makes you feel: a thrill of the soul with each pour.

☕☕☕

Yoongi

In all Yoongi’s years of teaching, he’s never been late to a class, especially on the first day of the semester. Yet, he’s nearly fifteen minutes late getting into his classroom this morning. Students are already filled in and scattered around the theatre-style seating. No one says anything. It’s far too early in the morning for smart mouths and snarky remarks about his tardiness. Not that he would expect that from any of the students anyway.

“Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min.” He drops his bag and coffee off on his podium at the front of the classroom. Turning to the large chalkboard behind it, he scrawls his name to the side and then begins to write directions. “We will begin with Chapter 1, ‘Mediums and Forms’, in your textbook. Please read quietly, and I’ll be with you all in a moment.”

The day goes on, class after class, and the familiar monotony of it brings Yoongi a sense of peace. This is familiar territory; he’s in his element, not like this morning in the coffee shop. He felt totally out of control and swept up in the swirl of uncertainties and possibilities.

To say he’s relieved you agreed to go to dinner with him would be an understatement. From the moment he decided to change up his routine to check out the cafe Namjoon wouldn’t shut up about, he’s been hooked not only on the impeccable decaf iced Americano, nor the beautifully decorated and painted interior but on the smiling face behind the counter.

Yoongi feels a bit self-conscious thinking about how much he thinks about you. He’s always been too intimidated by the idea of speaking more than a few passing words to you. It’s like every time he gathered up the courage, it would abandon him at the last moment. Namjoon calls it a crush, Yoongi calls it frustrating.

The whole conversation this morning is a bit of a blur to him. Yoongi swears once he opened his mouth it was nearly impossible to stop the word vomit from gushing out…and the next thing he knew, you were agreeing to a date with him tonight.

The day's last class rolls around, and Yoongi feels much lighter as he steps out of his adjoining office and into the classroom to welcome the new students. A few offer him quiet hello’s, some he’s seen from other art classes he’s monitored across the entire department and fine arts program. 

Turning his back as the last few students filter in, he makes the same spiel he has at the beginning of every class. “Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min…”

And so it begins, the beautiful dance of teaching and introducing fresh minds to the concept of forms and mediums. Yoongi is sure he could recite the entirety of Chapter 1 from memory now, with as many times as he’s gone over it today.

“What if you decide you don’t like your form or medium halfway through the project?” a student from the front row asks after Yoongi explains the medium and forms requisite for the final project for this class.

“We’re going to spend plenty of time during the first part of the semester testing out different mediums to know which best suits each of your individual tastes and needs. Regarding the form, I recommend choosing something you most likely won’t tire of. Something that means something to you but also isn’t so complex that you frustrate yourself and burn out before you can complete the project. You’re welcome to, at any time, bring me an idea of the form you’re considering, and we can talk about the intricacies and any potential issues that might arise with using it.”

Another question comes from somewhere in the middle, “Can we choose people, too?”

“A form can be anything that inspires you. If that happens to be a person, then of course. However, note that portraiture isn’t covered until Art 322, but I’ll do my best to help if that’s what you choose.” Yoongi glances at the clock, noticing there are only a few minutes left of class. “Let’s take the last few minutes to wind down, pack your things. If you have any further questions concerning your final project forms and mediums, please don’t hesitate to email me. Also, my office hours are open Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to six.”

As Yoongi turns to begin putting his things away from his podium, his eyes slide across the faces of his last class students, trying to cram them into his mind for the sake of remembering. He always likes to be as personable and approachable to his students as possible; knowing names and faces is always a good place to start.

He has to do a double take as his eyes flick over the very top row. The shock is felt throughout his entire body. It’s not that he’s surprised to see a face he already knows. It’s just that he wasn’t expecting it…wasn’t expecting to see you. Mild panic makes him jerk around, hands gripping at the papers on his podium, shuffling them mechanically.

The first thought that crosses his mind is he can’t possibly be going on a date with one of his students. Surely you’re just here to…to what? He turns over one of the papers, quickly scanning his roster that he hadn’t bothered to check yet. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to snag on your name.

Unease settles across his shoulders. He hates to cancel the date, as he was really looking forward to it, but it’s just…not right, right? There’s a line he shouldn’t cross with his students, even one who he is sure is his age and not the typical college freshman. Yoongi knows this because maybe, perhaps, he might have spent his lunch hour googling you and the cafe. You’re in your early thirties, given the birth year that was viewable on one of your social media pages, and own the coffee shop, have for several years now…a full-ass grown adult—the perfect person to date.

Except now you’re his student. There’s some moral code there somewhere, something about the skewed power dynamic. The thought of going on this date should have red flags flashing in his mind. Yet…yet, no matter how much he tells himself to cancel, he honestly doesn’t want to. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? A harmless date.

That’s what he’s still telling himself as he dismisses the class a few minutes later. He intentionally avoided looking in your direction, unsure if you’d be comfortable with him acknowledging you as one of his students or not.

Much to his surprise, as the bubble of sound dissipates, a soft voice reaches his ears from a few feet behind him, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yoongi has been so consumed with his own feelings about going on a date with a student that he hasn’t even thought about how you might feel. Are you about to cancel on him? Does he try to convince you not to?

He slowly turns, the stack of papers clutched in his hands, glasses slipping down his nose, yet he doesn’t want to pry his fingers from the bundle to fix them. “Look, I understand if you’d rather not—”

“I’m fine as long as you are.”

He’s relieved for your interruption, for keeping him from saying those words out loud. “Are you sure? If I had known this morning that you’d be one of my students…” he trails off, because he’s not so sure that would have stopped him after all. Considering he’s wanted to ask you out for at least the last four months.

“I’m glad you asked me. Student or not. I promise not to make it weird if you don’t.” You give him a brilliant smile, coy and full of mirth but light enough to make his heart jerk inside his chest.

“No weirdness, got it,” he agrees, unable to help his own teasing smile.

“So, I’ll see you then?” you ask, hefting your canvas bag on your shoulder. His eyes flick to it, noting the splashes and swirls of fabric paint that cover the outside. Yoongi wonders if you painted it yourself.

He nods, letting his eyes drink you in one last time before you turn to go. You’re still wearing the same jeans and thin cable knit sweater from the coffee shop this morning. Even in such casual clothes, you are stunning. A work of art all your own. He doesn’t stop staring until the door to his classroom shuts behind you.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. It’s not out of irritation or anger, just an acknowledgement of how truly and utterly he’s got it down bad for you.

☕☕☕

Seven can’t come soon enough. It only took you thirty minutes to get ready, putting on a simple black dress and flats. It’s not too fancy, but it makes you feel far more put together than just jeans and a t-shirt.

At five til, you make your way down into the coffee shop from your upstairs apartment. All of the main overhead lights are off, leaving only the warm accent lights that line the menu board and the display case lights on. Even now, the space smells delightedly of coffee.

It’s kind of funny, the fact that you’re not a coffee drinker. Everyone finds it odd that someone who doesn’t drink coffee would aspire to open a coffee shop. What they fail to realize is you love the smell of coffee. The warm, roasted, mildly sweet notes are what you thrive on, better than any shot of espresso in your mind.

There is a street lamp right outside your shop, flooding the sidewalk with a pool of yellow light. Standing just within the glow is Yoongi, his back to the shop door. You watch as his head swivels, looking down both directions of the sidewalk, completely unaware that you’ll be coming from behind him instead.

The sound of the lock turning over startles him. He jerks around and laughs softly, taking a step back, hand to his chest, as you pull the door open. “Can’t say I expected you to come from inside the cafe.”

“I would have been down sooner had I known you would be a bit early,” you say, locking the door behind you. “I probably should have given you my number or something.”

Yoongi eyes you, his gaze sliding up and down your body like he’s drinking you in. You hope he likes what he sees. “I think I was so excited about the date that I forgot even to ask,” he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when his eyes finally land back on yours. “You look,” —he gives you another quick once over, shaking his head and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip— “gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you preen under his praise. “You look quite handsome, yourself.”

You’re not just saying that to return the compliment, either. Yoongi is wearing the same thing he was this morning, except the tie is loosened, and the top button of his shirt is undone, giving you the slightest peek at his prominent jugular notch.

“Shall we?” he asks, offering you his arm.

You slip your hand into the bend of his elbow, falling into step beside him. The walk to the steak house is short, just enough for pleasant exchanges. He asks how your day at the coffee shop went, and you ask after his first day of classes. Neither of you bring up the fact that you were part of one of those classes.

“I’ve been meaning to check this place out. I’ve heard excellent things.”

Yoongi hums, nodding his head at your words. “I’ve also heard good things, though it might perhaps be biased considering all the praise I’ve heard has come from the owner himself.”

“You’ve spoken with the owner?”

“He’s one of my best friends, actually. This will be the first time I try it out. I kept telling him I’d stop by, but it always got away from me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “I can’t believe you know Seokjin.”

“Wait, you know Seokjin?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“I’d say know is a relative term. We get deliveries from the same produce truck. He tried to take my apples one time. I had to set him straight.” That makes Yoongi laugh along with you. “We chat sometimes, mostly about the quality of produce and the best places to get ingredients. I had no idea he was your friend.”

“Small world,” Yoongi says. His smile is warm and inviting. You’re sure you could get lost in it if he’d let you. It makes you wonder what his lips taste like. They have a slight sheen to them like they did this morning. Cherry chapstick? Maybe mint? A nice subtle vanilla?

You’re not sure the last time you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes. But Yoongi has your sides in stitches and your cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so much during dinner.

“Oh gosh,” you wheeze between fits of giggling, clutching your stomach. “Ow, ow. Don’t make me laugh again. I can’t take it.” It just makes you laugh even more, the huffs trailing off as Yoongi reaches across the table toward you.

You pry your hands from your abdomen and slide them into his. His fingers are warm against yours, his thumbs rubbing across the backs of your knuckles. It’s a gesture he’s done several times tonight, silently asking for your hands any chance he could.

“Sorry, you just have such a beautiful laugh,” he says. “I could listen to it all day.”

His flattery hasn’t stopped. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two glasses of wine he had with dinner were going to his head. But, he speaks so assuredly and looks in your eyes like you’re truly something special.

Feeling so intimately connected with someone you barely know might be absurd. Yet, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. If you’re being honest, the attraction started long ago, and tonight has just made it blossom into something so much more.

Yoongi has been the perfect gentleman. He’s not tried to railroad the conversation or make decisions for you like other guys you’ve gone on dates with. Whenever a server approached the table, he would defer to you and your needs before his.

“You’ve been so wonderful to me tonight. Please let me repay you with coffee and dessert. If you’re up for it.”

Yoongi squeezes both your hands before letting them go and sitting back in his chair. “There is no need to ‘repay’ me,” he says, emphasizing the word repay. “But, I wouldn’t say no to a date after this date, say in fifteen minutes, coffee and dessert?”

“Fifteen minutes? Coffee and dessert?” You give him a thoughtful look, tapping your fingers against your chin. “Hmm. I think I’m available.” You both break into more fits of soft laughter, contrasting so highly to the high energy from before; it’s intimate, if laughing can be such a thing.

It’s easy being with Yoongi; he’s attentive and curious. “What made you want to open a coffee shop?” he asks as you unlock the door to the cafe.

“I liked the idea of having a space that could cater to people from all walks of life. Businessmen in a hurry? Get it to go. Students needing a place to study? I have a quiet corner for that. College professor looking for his daily decaf Americao fix? Would you look at that? I got that covered, too.” You usher him inside, closing and locking the door behind you. “It also doubles as a great place to have a private coffee and dessert date after a lovely dinner date.”

You watch as Yoongi looks around the cozy space, his attention ending on the mural wall. “What’s your favorite kind of coffee?”

“Would it be weird if I said I don’t like coffee?” you ask.

He glances at you from over his shoulder. “Really?”

You shrug. “I love the way it smells, though.”

“Acrylic?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward the mural.

“Good eye,” you assess, stepping behind the counter to start making the coffee. You grab two pecan cinnamon twirls from the dry storage where you keep extra treats to take up to your apartment at the end of each shift and pop them into the small convection oven along the back wall. “You teach art, but it might be presumptuous of me to assume you also create. So, do you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to. Pastels and charcoal are my favorites to work with. I like the mildly messy, chaotic feel of them. There are few things better than the feeling of taking something so uncontrolled and turning it into a thing of beauty.”

“Charcoal, huh?” Your mind instantly goes to the framed collection of pieces you have in your apartment upstairs. “I can appreciate that.”

“Maybe I can show you sometime.” Yoongi turns from his appreciation of your mural to watch you work behind the counter. He gestures to a few frames hung up on either side of the giant menu on the wall. “Arfé, right?”

You glance up, moving with automated motions to load the portafilter into the espresso machine. “Oh,” you laugh. “Yeah. An experiment. I wanted to try something new and needed some new decor. I thought it was appropriately on theme.”

The half-dozen pieces are all made with swirls of various shades in brown and tan and depict a mix of cups, mugs, bags of grinds, lumps of sugar, and piles of roasted coffee beans.

“Very appropriate. They’re lovely. You’re an exceptional artist.” You’ve lost count of the amount of compliments Yoongi has paid you tonight. You might have been the one flattering him this morning, but it seems he’s making up for that now.

“Thank you. Truly. That means a lot coming from you.” The hiss of the brew machine fills the air, and the soft gurgle of espresso trickling into the small mug follows. “One decaf Americano for one of my best customers,” you say, carefully carrying the steaming cup over to a table beside Yoongi. “Please, sit.”

Yoongi settles at the table, bringing the cup of coffee up to his nose and giving it an appreciative sniff. “Wonderful,” he murmurs before taking a tentative sip. “Thank you, that hits the spot.”

“If you think the Americano is good, wait until you try this,” you say, scooping the twirls out of the oven and onto a plate. They’re perfectly warm and gooey. “You’ve never tried any of our pastries, have you?”

You sit across from him. The table is small enough that you could reach out and cup his cheek if you wanted, and set the plate on the table before Yoongi. He whistles low, “Wow, these do look amazing. Maybe I’ll become a pecan twirl and coffee guy every morning instead.”

Your eyes track his movements, watching as his fingers pinch and slightly sink into the edges of one of the twirls. Some of the warm glaze and cinnamon sugar filling squishes from between the layers.

Yoongi’s lips part and the tip of his tongue peaks over his bottom teeth as he brings the pastry up to take a bite. The moan he lets out surprises you both. His eyes flutter before landing on you and going wide. He chews methodically, his gaze not leaving yours. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips before he swallows.

“Well?” you ask, settling your elbows on the table and leaning into him, expectant.

The smile that tugs at his lips is coy. “Might be one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.” There is a heat in his gaze as his eyes search yours. “What other surprises do you have up your proverbial sleeve for me?”

“Now, if I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises anymore, would they?”

That makes him laugh. “Fair point. You know,” he glances around the coffee shop, “I never knew just what it was about this coffee shop I loved so much, but I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling positively giddy.

“Mhm. So,” he mirrors your pose across the table, his elbows nearly touching your own, fingers toying with yours where they’re folded in the air in front of your face, “is it too soon to ask you on a second date?”

“I thought this was our second date.” You raise a teasing eyebrow, a smile quirking on your lips.

“A third then,” he offers, eyes hopeful.

Of course, you want to say yes. And in the spirit of trying to be coy and playful, you lean in with the full intent of showing him instead of telling him how much you want to go on another date.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to your lips, watching as you deliberately lick them as you lean in a bit closer. Acceptance lies within their dark depths, a flash of hunger at the impending response that’s only a breath away.

As you advance, your elbows slide on the table, accidentally knocking the coffee cup. Liquid goes everywhere; it floods over the table and pours off the side…right into Yoongi’s lap.

“Oh fuck!” you yell, jumping up from the table and rushing around to his side. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance? Does it burn?”

Yoongi pushes back from the table, holding his arms up off his lap as he assesses the mess. “No harm done. It was already cooled off. It's just a bit of a mess, that’s all. I’m fine,” he laughs. “Truly, I promise. Do you have any towels or anything?”

“Oh god, your shirt, it’s going to stain,” you lament, staring at the dark splotch soaking through above his trousers. “Towels? Yes. Yes. Okay. And some baking soda. Come on, let’s hurry. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“Should we clean this up first?” he asks, motioning at the coffee-covered floor.

“I can mop in the morning. Please,” you fret, guilt making you a bit frantic and flustered.

Yoongi lets you lead him up the stairs in the back that go to your apartment. “You live here?” he questions. “No wonder you were coming out of the coffee shop earlier. That’s very cool.”

You make a noncommittal sound. “It’s cool if you like the smell of coffee and don’t mind rising early every day to open shop.”

It’s so hard to think right now, your mind solely focused on cleaning up the mess you’ve made of Yoongi’s clothes. That’s what you get for trying to be sly and answer his date question with a kiss. You’ll be lucky if he still wants that date now, surely.

The bathroom is barely big enough for the two of you. You insist Yoongi sit on the lip of the tub while you dig under the sink for the baking soda that you use for cleaning and removing your own coffee stains.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, grabbing your attention. You glance at him over your shoulder, bottom lip clamped between your teeth in an effort not to fall apart entirely. “I promise it’s okay, alright? You don’t have to stress over it. It’s just an accident. It's a pretty funny one if you ask me. If I’d have known we were getting wet on the first—I mean, second date, I would have planned accordingly.”

His words hang between you, full of static and charged with intention. He’s trying to lighten the mood…and it’s working. It’s also making you feel a certain kind of way. Words shouldn’t have the power to do that. Yet, here you are, flustered for a whole different reason now.

“Date’s not over yet,” you respond, unsure where the bold attitude came from, but you’ll take it. His eyes flicker with something like surprise mixed with desire, though it’s gone before you can really be sure. “Do you mind?” You gesture to his shirt. “It’ll be easier if I can soak it in the sink.”

Slowly, Yoongi undoes the buttons on his shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. Somehow, you weren’t expecting him to be naked underneath, but every open button reveals another swath of flesh. He shrugs out of the shirt, revealing a toned chest and taut belly. His nipples are hard, dark chips, standing out in contrast to his smooth, creamy skin. Yoongi is absolutely breathtaking.

In fact, you have to remind yourself to breathe, taking in a large lungful of air that’s so much it makes your chest ache. He holds the shirt out to you in offering. Your fingers tremble lightly as you take it, quickly turning back to the sink and the distraction of scrubbing at the stain.

Reading over the garment tag quickly, you make sure what you’re about to do is okay. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on your back, like heated dagger points pricking beneath your skin. You turn on the water, letting the tap run until it’s hot, before quickly swishing the area of the shirt covered in coffee under it. The hot water alone makes a world of difference, the dark liquid swirling away down the drain.

“Do you want my pants, too?” Yoongi asks, startling you.

Your eyes flick up to the mirror, looking at him through the reflection. He’s talking to you, but his attention is zeroed in on your backside. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware that your dress has ridden up dangerously high. You can feel the cool air of the bathroom kissing the crease between your thigh and asscheek.

Turning off the water, you slowly turn to face him. Your chest rises and falls as you try to take deep, even breaths, but with the way your heart is revving inside, it’s impossible to do so. “Let’s see the damage,” you say lightly, raising an eyebrow in question, giving him a chance to call you off.

When he doesn’t comment further, you close the distance to where he’s sitting and ease down onto your knees. You mentally tell yourself it’s so you can get a better look at the coffee that’s saturating the dark fabric, but you know better than that.

Being so close to him, you can feel the heat of his body. His chest rises and falls as rapidly as yours, and when you look up and meet his gaze, there is no mistaking the fire that you see blazing there. “Don’t think I forgot you still haven’t answered my question,” he murmurs, lips barely moving as he watches you.

You lift a hand, hooking your index finger under his chin and using it to angle his face toward yours. “I’d love that,” you respond, your lips brushing over his with every syllable.

He kisses you. Or maybe you kiss him. It’ll be something you tease each other over for many years to come. You open yourself to him, welcoming the glide of his tongue against yours. The kiss tastes mildly of coffee, yet for the first time in your life, you don’t mind the flavor.

“For me to take my pants off, or the date?” he teases, alternating between nipping and consuming kisses. Yoongi’s hands frame your face, holding you to him as he continues to ravage your mouth.

“Mm, both,” you manage to get out. “Definitely both.” Sliding your hands down his torso, you marvel at the softness of his skin and the already very prominent bulge that your fingers dance over as you try to get a grip on the button to his slacks.

Yoongi breaks away from the kiss long enough to help you with his pants, standing up from the edge of the tub and bringing you up with him. He toes off his shoes, leaving his pants puddled on top of them. “Good answer,” he chuckles.

You let out a tiny squeal as he wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs and hauls you up, your legs automatically winding around his waist. Thick erection pressed right against your panty-covered pussy, he slowly walks you out of the bathroom and into your adjoining room. You land on the bed with a soft oomph, Yoongi following you down. His weight is a comfort, settled over your body in a warm, hedonistic embrace.

“I’ll change classes,” you pant, flexing your hips against his. “As long as our next date is to an art gallery.”

“Is it weird for that to turn me on?” he responds, groaning as you roll your hips against him again. “The art part, not the dropping classes part. You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I know your schedule must be pretty set with the cafe.”

You press your hands against his chest, giving him a gentle push until he’s rolling over and you’re hovering over him. “I’ll make it work. I want to make it work. Everything tonight,” you pause and sit back on your heels, dragging your hands along his torso as you do, “I want more. You’re driving me crazy in the best of ways.”

“Says the woman who’s been running through my thoughts for the last several months now.” Yoongi’s lips part in a gasp, turning his last word into a breathly plea as you trace the tips of your fingers over his straining erection. The fabric of his grey boxer briefs is slightly sticky when you brush your thumb over the head.

“It reminds me of making art,” you casually say, curling your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and tugging until he lifts his hips and lets you drag them down. You toss them to the side, marveling at the glory now resting against his belly. Yoongi’s cock is a gentle upward curve, all smooth steel and thick veins. It throbs, bouncing against his stomach, leaving behind a thick smear of precum. “The way you make me feel.”

“Art?” he asks, breathless. His eyes flutter behind his glasses, his chest hollowing as he sucks in ragged breaths.

“Being with you gives me the same feeling as viewing a Duncanson or a Matisse, calm and full of joy. Though, you can also make me feel the chaos of a Kandinsky when you touch me.” To emphasize your words, you wrap your fingers around his girth, angling it up, watching the emotions on his face. The tip of his tongue works at the corner of his mouth, lips parted with every pant and soft moan. “Is this okay?” you ask, leaning down and gently blowing over the leaking tip before tentatively giving it a kitten lick.

“More than,” Yoongi moans. His eye slide closed as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. The flavor of him bursts across your tongue. You can’t help but moan yourself at the idea you’ve made him like this, hard and leaking.

Working as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, you delight in the shuddering convulses you can feel from his body as he loses himself in the sensations you’re bringing him. Yoongi always seems like such a collected individual. He still appeared so well-kept even when he stuttered over his words asking you on the date this morning. Now, though, he’s unraveling into a puddle of debauchery.

It’s a satisfying feeling, similar to when you get into a perfect rhythm when working on a project, bringing him to the edge. You work your mouth and hand in tandem, never leaving an inch of his cock free of your touch.

“Mmm,” you moan, the head of his cock resting in the back of your throat. Yoongi jerks under you, half raising onto his elbows, his eyes zeroing in on where you’re wrapped around him.

His fingers twist into the duvet, bottom lip puffy and flushed as he worries it with his teeth. “I’m going to cum,” he grunts, throwing his head back and moaning his pleasures, deep and throaty.

You quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck in earnest. Yoongi cries out a second before liquid warmth floods your mouth. It’s greedy, the way you swallow and continue to lave your tongue over him, eliciting tiny tremors and more moans.

“Just like art,” you whisper, finally letting his cock slip from between your lips. You’re riding your own high, wet and throbbing between your thighs. You can feel the ache in your clit, begging to be touched. All it would take is a few seconds, a few well-placed swirls of your fingers, and you know you’d be floating in orgasmic bliss.

Before you can even think of bringing your hand between your thighs to find relief, Yoongi is sitting up and urging you backward. Your back hits the mattress, and he settles on his side beside you. Somewhere between there and here, he pulled off his glasses. Despite having just found his release, his eyes are still so full of hunger and desire.

“May I?” he asks, pressing a hand against your inner thigh. You nod, eyes locked with his as he slowly trails his hand upward until his fingers brush over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in to capture your mouth in a languid kiss. Your lids flutter closed, consumed as you are by his touch.

Yoongi takes his time, toying with the edge of your panties before tugging them down past your knees. They pool around your ankles as he pushes your thighs apart, exposing your weeping pussy to the air of the bedroom.

“Yoongi.” His name is half moan, half curse as he brings his hand back up and cups your heat. The meat of his palm rests against your clit, right where you need to be touched, but the pressure isn’t enough to satisfy.

“An exquisite work of art.” His lips strum against yours, plucking and teasing just the way his fingers do through your wetness. The tips of his fingers briefly kiss your clit, dancing away before returning; a slow build of decadent pleasure.

It’s not above you to beg. “Please. Yoongi, please!”

“Open your eyes, look at me. Let me watch you fall apart so I can brand it into my memory.”

You snap open your eyes the exact moment he slides two slender fingers into your pussy, thumb finally giving the needed pressure to your clit. You’re so worked up that your body pulses around the intrusion, a tiny fluttering orgasm rippling through you.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

Yoongi gives you a wicked, knowing smile. “It’s not over yet, beautiful,” he assures you in a whispered promise.

His fingers are long, able to reach the perfect, special place inside you. As he strokes his fingertips, moving them in an undulating wave, his thumb swirls in a circle around your clit.

The next orgasm is less surprising, building to a heightened peak that has you crying out as you careen over the edge, entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. “Yoongi, fuck!” you babble, your whole body alive with sensations of pleasure.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “So beautiful.”

Your body shudders around his hand, his fingers slowing down their rhythm until you finally recover. The slide of his fingers along your walls as he withdraws makes you wish he’d put them back in…or maybe something else. The bereft feeling lasts only a moment before Yoongi gathers you into his arms. He’s completely naked, and you’re still wearing your dress, but you feel just as exposed as he is…only, it’s your soul on display for him instead of your body.

You wait for the feeling of vulnerability to filter in, that broken feeling of uncertainty. But, it doesn’t come. The only thing you feel is complete and utter content. It’s not even the post-orgasmic bliss that’s clouding it, either. No, there’s plenty of that, but it feels different; he feels different.

“Yoongi,” you begin, resting your cheek on his chest. You want to confess to him, but the words get choked in your throat. Is it too soon? Are you completely crazy? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Fuck. Here goes nothing. “This feels good, really good. Is it too soon to say…?”

“Too soon to say?” he prompts.

You absently trace haphazard swirls and lines across his chest, trying to think of how to word it. “I, well…”

“Too soon to say that I think possibly, maybe, I’m falling for you?” You look up at him, surprised by his words. Yoongi looks at you with so much warmth and affection in his eyes. “Because that’s exactly how I feel, too.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-12-30 ColorMePurplex2