Be My Daddy Myg [m]

be my daddy — myg [m]

⤷ summary. ❝ Min Yoongi is one thousand shades of forbidden to you, and yet, you can’t help but lust over him. Your dad’s friend. ❞ | 18+

pairing. dilf!ceo!yoongi x rich girl!reader 

genre. forbidden romance au, age gap au, smut, fluff, implied angst, pwp.

word count. 3.1k

» please don’t flag this post. if u don’t like it, just scroll. don’t be petty and flag creator’s posts, if u do that, ur not fücking cool 👎

warnings. big age gap (11 years), oc is a fucking tease, she vapes once, oc is said to have thick thighs, oc’s father is so oblivious lol, YOONGI HAS TATTOOS 😶‍🌫️ !! yoongi and oc’s father are friends, yoongi gives dilf energy but he doesn’t have a kid :3, daddy k*nk (sorry not sorry), mirror s*x, bathroom s*x, brief oral (f. recieving) big dïck yoongi, standing sëx, unprotected s*x (don’t be stupid like them ok this is fiction), dirty talk, yoongi has a dirty mouth y’all, dëgration k*nk, püssy fingering, choking, belly bulge, disgusting pet names, self-voyeurism, creampie, mentions of creampie, they have to be quiet but they kind of fail lol, there is a smidge of angst, like it’s super tiny u won’t even feel it, love dovey at the end, implied angst for the future of this couple, FLUFF (it’s weird for me to add this tag haha).

a/n. oh my god what have i done 😀 this is pure pwp. i am not okay i actually need my dilf yoongi right now !!!!! also this drabble just SCREAMS lana del rey, and the banner too. like oh my gooooood. i also thought of cola while writing this hehe. this was for my song requests and i hope u like this, love u so much !! <3 this is also just a lil something to get u guys fed before the monster that is after hours part one drops on friday !! hehe i’m very excited, love u all ♡

please reblog and / or leave feedback if u can, it helps a lot a lot !! ♡ love u. this is barely edited.

links. main masterlist ; taglist

The golden rays of July's sun hit your skin as you trace your fingers on your book. You shift your focus not to the captivating words of the page before you, but to the man who sits on the white sofa of your living room behind the glass. 

You bite your red lips, your lust-filled eyes hidden behind your heart-shaped glasses as you shamelessly stare at the man, gazing at each of his handsome features in secrecy.

You should be ashamed of yourself, lusting over your father’s associate and friend, but your so-called shame is long gone as you think about his veiny, tattooed, ring-filled hands splitting you open until you squirt.

Min Yoongi is his name.

You’ve known him for some time now. 

He is the CEO of Min Tech and he and your father decided to create a partnership between their companies a few years ago, but no one would have thought both men would have turned friends.

Your father by no means is an easy man to please, and by internet rumours, Mr Min is a man as cold as ice, whose sharp words are enough to cut your ego like a knife if you step

one foot out of line.

And what took you by more surprise is that he is much younger than your father, ten years, and your father was a man who liked to mingle with people his own age, claiming that the younger generation was too dumb for him to be associated with him. 

Except you, of course, and now, Yoongi.

Both don’t trust easily and yet, become such friends that he hangs out at your mansion almost every weekend for wine and business talk that is too boring for you to eavesdrop.

Min Yoongi is a thousand shades of forbidden to you. He is a friend of your father's, and not to mention, a CEO thirteen years older than you.

And yet, you can’t help but bite your lip every time you see the thirty-four-year-old clench move his tattooed hand, veins popping out, sending shivers toward your spine all the way to your clit.

You gaze at his figure, your eyes in a trance by the way he moves with an effortless confidence that draws the attention of every room he enters. Yoongi laughs at something your father says, flashing the gummy smile you’ve come to admire, and he sips a bit of the glass of whiskey in his hand. 

Suddenly, his intoxicating eyes catch yours. It’s a faint moment, but enough to form a smirk on your cherry lips as he licks his while shifting his burning eyes to your father, absentmindedly nodding at something he says.

The forbidden nature of your attraction to each other is the very essence of its intoxication. 

You adjust the red glasses on your face with your finger and close your book harshly before slowly getting up from your chair, making sure to do it with your eyes gues to Yoongi, who stares at you while licking his pouty lips, not even paying any attention to whatever your father is telling him.

You giggle and stretch your arms, the skimpy bikini revealing almost all of your breasts, doing the job you wanted when you chose this specific pair a few hours ago when your father told you Yoongi would be passing by for some work meeting at your house.

You pass your red nails through your luscious hair and accidentally let your book fall to the ground. You turn your body so your ass can face Yoongi, and you slowly reach for your book, making sure to tilt your body so your bikini can reveal as much as it can of your ass.

You smirk as you get up, and it only gets wider as you watch Yoongi uncomfortably crossing his legs and trying his best not to let his gaze fall down on you while he says something to your parents.

You grab your cherry vape and take a small puff of it before putting it deep inside your bag where your father could never see—even at twenty-three years of age, your father can’t see you smoke anything or else he’ll have your fucking head.

You grab your bag and walk toward the living room, and once you slide the glass door, you are met with the deep laughter of your father while Yoongi faintly chuckles while shifting on his seat.

“Oh, hey, princess! Say hi to Yoongi.” Your father smiles, and your mother sips on her wine, squinting her eyes at you and you tremble before smiling tightly.

“Hi Yoongi.” You send him a small wave while giving a smile that you hope hides the fire that spreads throughout your body.

“Hey, ____.” Yoongi passes his index hand on his sinner's lips while he scans your body, and your oblivious father chuckles while pressing a small kiss to your hand.

“Actually, Jisun, I gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, princess, why don’t you be a sweetheart and take Yoongi here to the bathroom, hm? I don’t think he knows where he is, do you?”

“No, not really. I haven’t gotten used to your new house, yet. You went quite big with this one.” Yoongi chuckles, and your father laughs snobbishly.

“Um, okay, come with me, Yoongi.” You innocently giggle, and your father takes a sip of your whiskey while Yoongi follows you to the bathroom.

Your mother rolls her eyes and deeply sighs. 

“What’s wrong with you lately, Bora?”

“Nothing, Jisun. Nothing.” She takes a large sip of her wine, and your father hums in suspicion before taking a call on his phone.

You can feel Yoongi’s heavy presence behind you as you both walk toward the guest bathroom. You open the door with a trembling hand, and once you get in, rough hands push you to the counter and throw your glasses to the ground

You wince at the slight pain while a river flows through your skinny bikini and down to your thick thighs, and you bite your lip as you watch the older man lock the door with desperation written on his fingers.

Yoongi is quick to imprison your body with his hips, his big bulge hitting your thighs while he grabs your hair, sharp pain coursing through your scalp.

“Filthy little slut,” His deep chuckle is overridden with lust, while his eyes incinerate arson deep within your veins, an ardent pleasure spreading through your body. 

You bat your lashes, faking innocence in your eyes as he whispers in your ear, “Trying to seduce me with that fuckin’ ass while I’m talking to your parents. Does your dad know his princess is a fucking whore behind the curtains, hm?”

“I don’t know what you mea–hmph.” You choke when his tattooed fingers suddenly enter your mouth, reaching the back of your throat with ease.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, bitch.” Yoongi growls, the rasp in his voice getting deeper as he stares at you with passion mixed with monstrous lust. “You’re insatiable, aren’t you? Filled that filthy pussy with my cum yesterday and you already want more, hm?”

You eagerly nod your head, your mind wandering to the night before when he filled you like his cum dump, his white seed spilling through your thick thighs, leaving you oh-so-pleased and in pure bliss.

You suck his fingers, saliva dancing on your lips and dripping on your chin and cheeks, and Yoongi laughs at just how pathetic you look. Pathetic just for him.

“What do you want me to do to you, doll?” He finally takes his fingers out of your mouth which is now stained with your red gloss, and you cough twice before biting your lips. “C’mon, tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

You hold your breath before whispering, “Want your cock. Want you to fi-fill me up again.”

“Want me to put my cum deep inside you, hm?”

You nod your head, “Uh-huh.”

“Hmm, dunno if you deserve it.”

You scoff, “Of course I deserve it. And I know you want to be buried deep inside me. You want it as much as I do.”

Yoongi pokes the inside of his cheek, “Hate it that you’re fuckin’ right.” 

The older man forcefully grabs your cheeks with one of his veiny hands, enough to well your eyes with tears of pleasure. “Spread those legs for me, brat.”

Yoongi helps to place you on top of the counter, and he immediately spreads your legs and unwraps the bow of your bikini, and before you know it, you stand naked, vulnerable before his devilish eyes.

Yoongi falls to his knees, his hot breaths on your pussy sending shivers throughout every inch of your spine. He stares at how copious amounts of slick easily drip out of your aching pussy, and he almost moans loudly at the thought that it is all just for him.

Yoongi suddenly licks one single, slow stripe of your slit, and you tremble, unwanted moans slipping out of your slutty mouth.

“You gotta stay quiet for me, yeah? Can’t have your parents knowing what’s going on, hm?” 

You widen your eyes at the thought and whimper once he places kitten licks on your pussy, licking all your wetness out and moaning deeply at your sweet taste.

“I’m way too horny to eat you out today, baby. Gonna slip inside you, k?”

“Oh, I’m fine with that.” You lazily giggle and grope one of your breasts you know he is obsessed with, “Want you to fill me up, Daddy.”

Yoongi groans while standing up, “Fucking hell. You know you have me weak when you call me that.”

The sound of Yoongi taking his metal belt off echoes through the large bathroom, and you lick your lips in anticipation, desire burning through your skin as you watch his big cock spring free from his white boxers, slapping on his thighs.

Yoongi smirks and slowly strokes his hard-rock length, “You want daddy’s cock, slut?”

“Mhm.” You nod eagerly, drool forming on your lips as you stare at his veiny dick that twitches just for you.

“Say it.” Yoongi growls and you silently whine.

“Want your cock, daddy. Want you to stretch me out. Fill me up.”

Yoongi faintly moans, his eyes closing in bliss while his cock twitches his hand, “Shit, baby girl, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Yoongi closes your thighs, and you furrow your eyebrows, your heart preparing for disappointment, “Stand up and turn around. Want you to look at yourself while I fuck you.”

You sigh in relief, and do as he says. Once you turn around, you gasp at the image of your naked self with Yoongi’s broad, tattoed body behind you. 

What a view.

The older man’s veiny fingers trail the skin of your stomach, and you tremble under his tender touch before he slips two fingers inside your cunt, “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Daddy’s pussy.” You moan out while he spreads your legs, and your face turns hot as you stare at how his rough fingers split your red cunt apart.

“Only mine.”

“Only yours.” You moan, and Yoongi hums in satisfaction.

Yoongi’s free hand wraps around your neck and puts little pressure, but enough to make your head dizzy as you stare at the hot reflection in the mirror.

He bites your earlobe before whispering inside your ear, his burning hot breath making your body tremble, “Gonna slip inside now, yeah?”

You nod your head, and you moan once he slips inside your wet folds. You whimper, lewd sounds echoing through the white bathroom, and Yoongi’s hand goes to your tummy, rubbing it in soothing motions as you get used to the slight pain.

Even after so many times, you still can’t get used to just how big he is.

“Yoongi.” You moan, throwing your head back to his shoulder. 

Yoongi squeezes the air out of your throat for one second, which causes you to bring your head back as you gasp for air, “That’s not my name right now, whore.”

“Sorry d-daddy.” You whimper, and Yoongi chuckles at your humiliation, more slick dripping down your pussy and coating his eager cock.

Yoongi’s hips roughly buck upwards once, his balls slapping onto your ass while your body bucks forwards, but his hand wrapped around your stomach prevents your head from hitting the sink.

Your eyes widen in fear, but before you can say anything, Yoongi places the sweetest butterfly kisses onto your neck, “Don’t worry. I got you, hm? I promise.”

You nod your head, “Okay, y-yeah. Okay.”

“Gonna move now, baby. What’s your safe word?”

You smile lazily while Yoongi slowly moves his hips in a round motion, trying to get the slightest of friction while he waits for you to get used to him, “Snowflake.”

“Good girl.” 

Yoongi pulls his cock out so just the tip is inside you, before roughly thrusting inside once again, sparing no mercy to your red pussy. You moan at the incinerating sensation, his balls slapping on your ass, wet slapping sounds filling the room with your sin.

“Ugh, so fuckin’ big,” Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he continues to thrust into you at an animalistic pace, your tits jumping at the same rhythm of his thrusts, and Yoongi grunts inside your ear at the filthy reflection.

His hand rests on your neck, and you feel dizzy at the light, sudden squeeze of your throat. Yoongi’s other tattooed hand that rests on your tummy traces the big bulge that forms each time he thrusts up inside you, the tip of his cock deliciously kissing your cervix.

Your consciousness slips away with the intense pleasure, your heart racing at the rough thrusts, and Yoongi smirks at your fucked out state, “Look at just how good you take me, little slut. You were made for my cock, hm?”

You eagerly nod your head, “Yes! Ye—”

Yoongi’s hand slaps your mouth, shutting you up, and your eyes widen while his mouth goes to your ear, “Quiet.”

Your pussy squeezes around him, your climax close, and Yoongi groans into your ear while his thrusts get even faster, sloppier. The rhythm of lust as euphoria consumes you both.

“I’m fuckin’ close. Gonna come inside this slutty pussy baby. Gonna fill you to the brim and make you walk around the house with my cum dripping from your thighs. Gonna mark you so everyone knows you’re fucking Min Yoongi’s property.”

You moan at the thought of being his, and he chuckles darkly, his ring-filled hands tracing the skin of your stomach and going down to expertly roll his index finger on your puffy clit. “You like that? Like the thought of being mine, hm?”

You moan into his hand, and he finally lets you breathe once he takes the hand from your mouth, “Yes, wanna be yours. Wanna—ugh!”

Yoongi opens your legs, and his hand grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at the lewd reflection of your pussy taking his cock and how your slick gets pushed roughly back inside you by his fat length. “Look at how that pretty pussy takes my cock. And don’t take your eyes off of it until I cum inside, got it.”

“Uh, uh—daddy, fuck!” His tongue pokes his cheek as he continues to thrust inside you, and before you know it, your body trembles as your climax consumes, you, yet, you follow his command and never take your eyes off the mirror.

“Fuck, baby, I’m cum–cumming for you.” Your orgasm triggers his and with stuttering hips and sloppy thrusts, Yoongi’s cock twitches one last time before his seed slips inside you, painting your walls white as he fills you up.

You both watch in a trance as copious amounts of his white, sticky release drips out of your pussy and into your thighs as he slowly pulls out, and Yoongi wastes no time before slipping two of his veiny fingers inside you, all the while panting desperately on your shoulder.

He slowly pushes his cum inside you while licking your neck within his pants, and you throw your head back, gasping for any oxygen for your restricted lungs.

Yoongi maps out your shoulder with his kisses before he traces his tongue all the way to your ear. He bites your earlobe before whispering, “I love you.”

You gasp, and turn around to meet his glimmering eyes, “Wh-what?”

“I love you, my princess. I have for a while now.” Yoongi smiles shyly, his hand cupping your cheek while his thumb gently caresses your skin, “Be mine. Please?”

“What about my—my dad? He can’t know, I—”

“Do you love me?”

“But—”

“Forget about your fucking dad for a second, dammit.” Yoongi groans, before cupping your other cheek with his other hand, forcing your eyes to meet his desperate ones that call for your soul, “Do you love me?”

You sigh, closing your eyes before opening again, “I do. Fuck, I love you, Yoongi. I have for so fucking long.”

Yoongi smiles brightly, secret relief overcoming through his nerves, “Then be mine, baby. We’ll deal with your dad together. Then we’ll get a house together while you go through law school. How does that sound, hm?”

You smile, tears of joy welling in your eyes, “That sounds perfect.”

You lean in, your lips dancing with each other in the most gentle kiss, your heart that once bled in desperation for his, now heals as it wraps around his soul the way fate intended to. 

You both disconnect your lips with a gasp once you hear a loud knocking on the bathroom door, reality crashing on you as you hear your father’s deep voice, “Yoongi, are you taking a shit or what? I need you back, I can’t fucking stand my wife right now.”

Yoongi takes in a deep breath before shouting back, “Just got caught up with some things, I’ll be there in five!”

“Alright.” Your father groans, and once his steps are too far to hear, both you and Yoongi let out a breath of relief.

“I love you.” He whispers into your ear, “We’ll be okay, hm?”

Your soul glitters and you smile, “I love you, too.”

© 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐. all rights reserved; do not copy, translate or post it in another platform at any circumstances.

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒌𝒋𝒊𝒏

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Vigilant(e) - MYG

pairing: yoongi x femreader

genre: vigilante au, lawyer au, rivals to lovers

word count: 4.3k

rating: M

warnings: language (the f-word mostly), kissing (not quite smut but I feel like they would if they could), violence (not between our leads), a little blood mention, discussion of law and justice, rhapsodizing about the min yoongi,

a/n: i like to lay blame where it is due: so I blame @raplinesmoon for flooding my dash of yoongi in that final concert. I blame @jl-micasea-fics for the prompt that set this in motion. I blame @seokjinger-ale and @hannahbee12719 for telling me I should write yoongi again. i blame Greedy for the appearance of a diner because that's a top tier yoongi fic. i blame yoongi for looking like he does, performing like he does and just in general being what he is. and I blame myself for have no power to withstand any of the above. I have not written for this man in well over a year and if that means the following is a bit rusty, my apologies. also if there are any typos or mistakes, I'm sorry. i tried my best to find them.

a/n 2: i might have an idea for a part two.

prompt used

Person A: "Why did you save me?" Person B: "Honestly, if I had known it was you beforehand, I probably wouldn't have."

masterlist

Part 1 - Rebuttal

—-----

It’s not tunnel-vision (or maybe it is, you’re not sure you know the definition), but when you are in THAT mode, you see only what is necessary. Your brain predicts the possible outcomes and you follow the one with the least damage and best chances of saving the person in trouble. 

You don’t really see faces.

Maybe your therapist would have something to analyze if she knew that, but you tend to keep the other part of your life secret from everyone, and that includes your therapist. 

Your therapist is probably bored, honestly. 

It’s a typical evening in your life. You’ve finished work hours, dealt with depositions, met with a few witnesses, and held your tongue when the District Attorney asks you to do something clearly under his job description, not yours. You don’t have court tomorrow, just more research, so you change into your coveralls, slip a medical-grade mask on, and your favorite blue beanie. 

You have a police scanner in your car, but you opt just to carry it with you in your backpack. One earbud in and you just look like a very sketchy person out for a walk, listening to music or the latest podcast. 

The police scanner isn’t the greatest of ways to get information. You usually encounter situations by pure happenstance and tonight is no different.

It’s raised voices. 

It’s not the worst part of the city that you’re in, but it isn’t exactly the best either. The apartment complex in front of you needs work, but it’s also free of metal bars on first-level windows or barbed wire, so that’s a plus. 

You pause when you hear. You take out the earbud and listen a bit longer. Sometimes yelling is just yelling. It doesn’t require an intervention of any kind. Early on in doing this thing that you do at night, you have definitely interrupted interactions that did not need your assistance.

Good thing the mask hides your embarrassment. 

You discern mostly one voice, male, that is the loudest. There are other male voices…two more. One is a bit reedy, a little concerned. The other is the lowest register, scratchy, but calm. 

“Fuck you!”

Which again, doesn’t mean you should intervene. But the sound you hear after that does.

A punch doesn’t sound like it does in the movies. You saw somewhere that sound effects people tend to use steak to make the sound of flesh being pummeled.

Seems like a waste of meat. 

The real thing is muted, and if you weren’t a several-year pro at this, the sound wouldn’t raise alarm.

But there are two in rapid succession and that springs you into action. 

It’s down the alley next to the apartment complex, basically the back entrance, you assume. 

Three men. And it’s easy to see who is who. The yeller is the one throwing punches. The reedy-voiced one is trying to hold him back. The calm one is the one attempting to avoid the hits, but isn’t retaliating. 

You don’t even ask, you just swoop in.

Removing the reedy one is easy. You tug him back with one grab of his arm. He stumbles out of the way. 

Which does announce your arrival and stops the instigator from throwing another hit. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

You don’t say anything. You don’t have a particularly overt feminine voice, but it does help the whole process if they don’t suspect that you are a female. Usually. 

The yeller leaves the man he’s just been attacking and starts to swing at you. It’s easy again. Real fighting is not the beautiful choreography seen on screens. It’s slower, especially if there’s no training involved. 

You’ve been trained, but your opponent definitely has not.

You dodge a few of the incoming swipes before landing a solid to his gut. This causes him to keel over, effectively inactive for several seconds. This gives you time to grab him right above his elbow, thumb pushing against that pressure point. 

His scream is satisfying, but that’s not something you tell your therapist. 

“Hey, hey,” you hear behind you. “Let him go. He’s….just let him go.” 

The attacker is begging the same thing, but you listen to the voice behind you. You shove the attacker away, who is immediately helped up by his friend, and with some not-so-creative threats toward you, they hurry off. 

“Well.” 

You turn around, breathing a little heavily because a fight isn’t always your daily norm. Sometimes it’s just helping someone across the street. Or distracting a would-be assault-er. Sometimes your nights are just long walks with no action at all.

Your tunnel vision now focuses on who you just saved. 

Your damsel in distress is several things:

Not a damsel (would have been impressive with such a low voice).

Not especially tall (taller than you, but no one would give this guy a basketball scholarship).

Has long hair (Longer than yours, but you keep yours really short for ease, and this whole night-time-save-people thing you do). 

Is going to have a few marks in the morning from where his attacker was successful. (You only notice because it’s a really nice face you’re looking at).

Is Min Yoongi. 

“I needed him to agree to come in so I could depose him for a case.” There’s a long sigh. “Not sure he’ll do it now.”

Defense attorney, Min Yoongi. The man on the other side of the courtroom. The one who remains calm in practically any situation. Who smirks when his team is getting the best of the State with his loopholes and questionable interpretations of the law. 

Basically, the person your boss hates more than anyone else.

You don’t mean to, but you say his name.

The eyebrows raise. “You know me?”

Quickly you try and keep your voice low (not as low as his, nor as pretty…objectively). “Who doesn’t?”

You’ll give credit. He’s an excellent lawyer and though the media does like to write about him when he wins a case, or loses; he doesn’t seek it out. Not that you can see. While other defense attorneys are often caught out living it up with their ridiculous amounts of money from exorbitant fees, Min Yoongi seems pretty private. 

You also know he does pro bono work because you might have researched him once. Or twice. 

Once for your boss to find something to discredit him. Twice because you sometimes can’t help yourself finding out more of someone’s story. 

Despite the fact that blood is trickling from his eyebrow (the attacker had on a few rings), Yoongi looks very nonplussed as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers. 

You pull your backpack off one shoulder to swing it around and open it. You have a veritable first aid kid in there; along with pepper spray, mace, and various other dissuaders. 

You take out a clean tissue and reach for the wound before stilling when he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Can I?”

Fuck, you forgot to keep your voice low. 

He nods and you dab away the blood carefully. 

“You’re Anon, right?”

Your nightly activities are sometimes reported and the press has given you a moniker - Anonymous, or Anon.

It’s better than anything you could have come up with. 

“That was hardly a life-threatening altercation,” he continues as you draw away to find a bandage. “Why did you ‘save’ me?” He even uses the finger quotation marks. 

It makes you bristle. You can’t help it. 

As you apply the bandage over the eyebrow cut, you respond with some annoyance, “Honestly, if I had known it was you beforehand, I probably wouldn't have.”

He laughs. Outright and very loudly before covering his mouth. You back up, closing your bag and righting it on your shoulders again. 

“Okay, then. Anon.” He meets your eyes and you look away. Most people you interact with like this don’t look too closely, but you know how smart this man is. You don’t need him to get a good look (thank goodness for crappy streetlights that barely work) at your eyes. “I guess you know me better than most.”

He touches the bandage gingerly before dropping his hand. 

“Be careful,” you grumble before starting to retreat because retreat is very very necessary right now. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I probably won’t.” 

You look back at him for that comment and he’s doing that smirk again. The one you’ve seen multiple times in the courtroom. That you’ve been on the receiving end of a few times when you’ve taken to questioning the defendant or witness. 

“Thanks, though.”

You get the fuck out of there.

—

It’s months later. After winning one case and losing two others (you don’t mind losing cases if you believe that the defendant is innocent, or that the evidence doesn’t add up, but that doesn’t hold water with your boss; a perfect record should be attained always), you are making an appearance at a charity function because someone from the DA’s office should be there and everyone else has excuses before you can come up with one. 

So here you are, listening to people with a lot more money than you talk about reforms needed for the city, how citizens should abide by the laws, and more money should be funneled into programs to clean up the streets. 

“Or we could just fund programs that actually help those who need it.”

You didn’t see him come up next to you. His voice is quiet enough that the speaker at the podium wouldn’t notice. In fact no one around you seems to care that Min Yoongi has just approached you even though there can’t be anything you two have in common; opposites sides of the legal system obviously. 

You just stare at him, a champagne flute in your hand that is only half full because you don’t like champagne but it’s the only thing at this event that seemed acceptable to drink without resorting to just chugging water. He doesn’t smile at you though the corner of his mouth is lifted slightly like he’s amused. 

Again, it’s definitely an expression you’ve seen in the courtroom.

One of those losing cases was against Min Yoongi. One of the ones you were sure the defendant was telling the truth. But you can’t say that. Because admitting that failure was the correct judgement would be weakness.

Sometimes you wish you heard someone else’s voice in your head other than your boss’s. 

“I don’t think I’m the person to tell that to,” you say, hopefully as softly. “I’m not in charge.”

He stands next to you, facing the stage, almost mirroring your posture; though he has a tumbler of whiskey instead of champagne. 

“You’re exactly the person to tell it to,” he says, leaning a little closer so you can hear him clearly. 

Min Yoongi is attractive. It’s an objective fact. You’re pretty sure that’s why the press enjoys writing about him because he looks good in his lawyer suits. The hair a little too long to be conventionally professional. The sharp jawline in contrast with round cheeks. The sharp sharp eyes that are so dark against his skin. 

Does the journalists know that he smells good too?

That’s new information for you as you have never been this close to him. Minus that night you saved him but there was blood and sweat and general dirty alley scents to mar whatever cologne he prefers. 

“I don’t follow,” you reply. “You know where I am in the hierarchy of this city and the DA’s office.”

The speaker at the podium has finished his talk and the hired band starts to play something that feels more jazzy than current. Yoongi turns slightly toward you and you can’t help but meet his gaze. 

“I do. You do good work there,” he says as he tucks one hand in the pocket of his suit pants before taking a sip of his drink. “Subscribing to the letter of the law, upholding it and every governmental branch that it includes.”

Does he have to sound so mocking?

“If we don’t put faith in our laws, it’d be chaos.”

“I mean, true…” The beginning of the smirk shows up. “But sometimes, the law is a bit restricting, don’t you think?”

You can feel the flare of your nostrils. “Rules are. That’s the point. Justice needs parameters, and it’s our job to make sure justice is served…properly.”

He grins and it blinds you just a bit. 

“Yeah? So, taking matters into your own hands…outside of the police, the courtroom, the local government…that would be wrong?”

Oh fuck. Abort. Abort. 

“Of course.” You take a step back. “Nice to see you, Attorney Min, outside the courtroom, but I have to go.”

You turn and flee the scene as best you can in your sensible heels. You’ve been at this function for nearly two hours. That’s enough time to present a good face for the DA’s office. Time to go home and curl up on the couch to watch the most recent episode of the coziest anime. 

You’re outside the ballroom, coat attained from coat check, and you’re filling in the information on your phone for an Uber when you feel a hand brush your elbow. 

“Let me give you a ride home.”

You shake your head, not looking at him. “I’m good.”

He says your name in his lawyer voice; firm and assertive as though nothing can sway his opinion. 

“No thank you.”

“Anon.”

Your head shoots up from staring at your phone before you can tell yourself to ignore it. He doesn’t look amused anymore. He looks lethal.

“If not a ride home, then something to eat.”

“We just…” your voice is shuddery and you hate yourself for it. “There was food in there.” You point to the ballroom.

He snorts. “I mean real food. The diner two blocks over? You know it?”

Of course, you do. It’s your favorite. 

But you just nod and he gestures for you both to head that way. 

It’s quiet for several minutes, minus the passing cars and people out and about at nine p.m. on a Saturday. 

Your brain isn’t quiet. It’s racing. Trying to figure out how to save this. Save your identity. Save the one thing that you do that feels like it makes an impact because your work at the DA’s office can quite often feel like trying to carry sand in a colander - futile. 

“Attorney Min.”

“I think you can call me Yoongi.” He doesn’t look at you, but opens the door to let you walk into the diner first. You return the wave of one of the servers who recognizes you before finding a booth and easing yourself in (you’ve never been here with a floor-length dress and heels on before). 

He slides in across from you as you’re both greeted with menus and full plastic glasses of water. 

The server, Bora who is working here to get through her associate's degree for accounting, asks if you want your regular.

Yoongi looks at you with pure amusement. “Your regular?”

You shrug. “Burger and shake.”

“What kind?”

“Chocolate malt.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have that too.” He hands back the menu to Bora and waits until she’s gone before speaking again. “So.”

You know how smart Min Yoongi is so you don’t try to deny it or evade.

“I won’t do it anymore. You can’t prove it.”

The eyebrows raise. “Prove what?”

You close your eyes, annoyed and frustrated. “You know what.” 

You hear movement and open your eyes to see that he’s leaned more across the table. 

From this close, you can see a little bit of a scar from where he’d bled that night. 

“Do you think I’m gonna blackmail you?”

“Aren’t you? Why else say anything?”

He sits back at regards you with those eyes for several seconds. You take a long sip of your water. 

“What’s the end goal?” he asks. “Either you get found out or you get hurt or you get killed.”

You’ve thought of that. You’ve thought about that a lot. 

“I know.” You fiddle with the straw. “I thought it’d be just once or twice, but…”

“Doing good is addictive.”

You stare at him, thinking that he seems very sure of this. “Doing good?”

“You think I’m going to say that you shouldn’t do what you’re doing? I mean, yeah, it’s completely risky and the result will probably end in one of those three ways, but you’re doing good things.”

No one knowing about your secret is the right thing for everyone. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t lonely. Getting injured because you didn’t watch the hit coming, suffering through only a few hours of sleep sometimes and having no one to talk about it with…is very lonely. 

“Thank you.”

He smiles a little as your shakes are delivered and you ask Bora how classes are. She updates you briefly. If Yoongi wasn’t here, she’d be way more detailed. 

“But you’re on a date, so next time,” she says and leaves before you can correct her. 

“You know,” Yoongi begins without so much as a response to the ‘date’ comment. “It’s antithetical to your real job. Doing something outside the law.” 

It’s fascinating how neither of you has actually spelled out the secret. 

“Yeah…I know.”

“I mean…it’s why I didn’t believe it at first. Not you. The assistant DA who challenges every line of questioning I start.”

“Not every one.”

“Okay, 90% then.” He has a warm smile like this. Twinkling eyes when he takes his first sip of the shake. “I’ve never had a shake here before. I’ve been missing out.”

If this was a date, you’d talk about how you’ve tried all the options they have on the menu and how the chocolate malt is by far superior and that it’s always the perfect smoothness and sweetness. 

Shouldn’t think of this as a date, though. That’s dangerous. 

“I do believe in following the letter of the law…but…”

“But?” His eyes still sparkle but he’s not drinking right now. He’s looking at you. 

“It’s made by humans. And we never get it perfect or right. We just sometimes miss the mark.”

“So you became a vigilante.”

Not that you didn’t know that he knew (why else has this night even ended up like this?) but the words are so powerful and you feel frozen. 

“I guess.”

He says your name again and you thaw some. “I’m not going to blackmail you. Or say anything.”

That confession takes several seconds to process.

“Why not?”

He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, but Bora is back with your burgers. Some quick chit-chat chat and then you see Yoongi take a bite and nearly have a transcendent experience.

“Fuck, that’s really good.”

It’s weirdly validating. To have the Min Yoongi think your food choices are good. 

He gets back to your question.

“We are on the same side, you know.”

“I think that we’re fundamentally not.”

“We are. I know what it’s like in the courtroom. We are enemies, I seek to represent my client in their best interests and you represent the law. I know.” He glances away for a second. “But it’s justice, right?”

“But you and your team constantly twist the law and–”

“Because sometimes compassion is needed. Grace and mercy. That’s still justice. Just a different side to it.”

It floors you. Not that you haven’t wanted to give someone a second chance, even those you oppose in the courtroom, but you’ve never heard it said like that. 

You focus on your food, a bit jumpy from everything. “How did you figure it out?”

“That it was you?” You can hear his confidence and it’s both annoying and really attractive. “Your voice. Your height. The fact that your makeup sometimes doesn’t cover a bruise on your leg.”

Who looks at your legs that much?

You hear him move again and reluctantly look up. He’s watching you carefully. 

“Your eyes mostly.”

“My eyes.”

He nods. 

“In movies, the eyes show all the time and no one figures it out.”

He scoffs. “Okay, in movies, most people are dumb. Actually, in life, most people are dumb.” He pauses, pressing his lips together before speaking again. “And most people don’t pay attention.”

“You pay attention?”

“You know I do.”

“I know you do because you find every possible weakness in my arguments to pounce upon and destroy.”

He laughs and props his chin on his hand. “Absolutely. But that isn’t all I pay attention to.” 

Logically, that follows, but you’re a little nervous to see where this path leads. 

“It isn’t?” But you’re curious and you prefer the truth over anything, so you’ll just continue down this trajectory even if it ends in flames. 

The laugh fades, but he still looks happy. The chocolate malt is amazing, but you don’t think it’s that happiness-inducing. 

“I pay attention to you. Both professionally and…” He straightens and scratches the back of his head, looking for less like Attorney Min and more just…Yoongi. “Less professionally.”

Between your daily job and your nightly job, you don’t have much time for dating. And despite it being 2023, you’ve found that men are still intimidated by a professional woman, especially a lawyer. 

So you don’t think about it much. 

And yes, you have eyes and have seen Min Yoongi so you know he’s attractive and may or may not have starred in a dream or two, but that’s dreams. You’ve had dreams about the man who lives two doors down from you and he’s sixty-five and not your type. 

“Less professionally.” Your brain is so overwhelmed that all you can do is repeat his words.

His smile turns wry. “I wouldn’t mind if this,” He gestures to the table and the diner, “is an actual date.” 

He looks a little shy, which is a version of Min Yoongi you’ve never seen. The faint pink in his cheeks, the softer eyes; the fidgety hands. 

You’ve had a lot to process tonight and it takes you several seconds to respond. 

“I wouldn’t mind either.”

You do let Min Yoongi drive you home. He even walks you up to your third-floor apartment, chatting about getting to see his alma mater’s basketball game in two days, why Marvel movies no longer excite him as much as they did, and what kind of ramen he ate for two weeks straight when studying for the Bar Exam. 

“It’s good,” he insists as you slow down in front of your door. “It was. I can’t even look at a package of it anymore without war flashbacks and nausea.” 

“My comfort food was pop-tarts. And I still like them for some reason.”

“What flavor?” he asks stopping behind you as you unlock your door.

“Strawberry…or blueberry.”

“What? Not cinnamon or smores? What kind of lawless heathen are you?”

You laugh (not the first time tonight, you should have known that all those smarts of his would make him funny too) and turn back around to see his mock-horrified expression. 

“If it’s fruit-flavored it’s better for you, right?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Sure.” Then his smile drops a bit as does his gaze to his feet. “So…I guess I’ll see you later?” His head pops up then. “Are you…I guess, patrolling tonight?”

You shake your head. “One, is that a Buffy reference?”

“Yes,” he says without a hint of shame. 

How on earth did he get more attractive? 

“Two, my feet hurt.”

He winces in sympathy.

“And three, I have to be alert and well, this entire evening has made my brain really really hazy at this point. So it’d be stupid for me to go out like this.”

He nods, taking a step closer to you. “Makes sense. I wouldn’t ask you not to. I have absolutely no right to do so.” He looks up at you (your heels definitely give you a little height) and to add to your night of shocks, the way he looks at you is staggering. “But if you do, or when you do, can you let me know? Like occasionally check in so I know you’re okay.”

It’s a lot, really. To go from thinking someone hates you or is at least unimpressed by you to realizing that you’re cared for, and thought of. Especially when you find you feel the same way. 

“I will.” You fiddle with your clutch purse. “It’d be nice to know someone is out there…paying attention.”

“Less professionally,” he repeats.

You chuckle. “Less professionally.”

There’s a pause in conversation, but it’s not quiet. You swear you can hear your heartbeat and the crackle of something in the air. 

“I want to kiss you.”

You meet his eyes and try not to melt. “I’m okay with that.”

Kissing Min Yoongi is a bit like your night job. You are hyper-aware (his hands on your waist, fingers digging in when you open your mouth; the sounds of his breaths, one low moan that you feel all over; how he tastes like chocolate malt), a bit nervous (first kisses are normally so awkward, but this…this is probably what inspires poets), and have to be ready to adapt (when he leaves your mouth and nips at your jaw and neck, you almost ask him to come in). 

He draws back too soon, but it’s a delight to see the flushed color of his skin, lips swollen from your mouth, his hair, already wavy, even more tousled. 

“Let me know when you aren’t working…either job,” he whispers. “We’ll go out.”

“Or stay in.”

The awareness in his eyes makes your body even more tense, like any second you’ll snap like a broken guitar string. “Or stay in.” 

It’s another soft kiss before he lets you go. 

“Good night, Attorney Min.”

“Night, Anon.” 

--

© yoongihan 2023. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. bts belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

OMG THANK YOU FOR THIS SWEEY SWEET SURPRISE! IT MADE MY DAY.

I missed angel mask so much TT this drabble brought me back to that universe.

Thank you for fools paradise drabble 🥰. I am not sure if you are taking requests? It’s 100% up to you if you want to bcs it’s your blog, but would it be possible to get an angel mask drabble, maybe on their wedding day?

Babe, you read my mind! I honestly miss writing for Angel Mask even tho I have struggled with writers block for what has seemed like two years! 😭😭😔

Here you go. I hope you enjoy :) It’s waAy past my bedtime so please ignore words that don’t make sense! 😭

till death do us…

Pairing: Angel Mask Yoongi x F! Reader

Warning(s): At the end (present day), mentions of kidnapping, mob business/situation, insinuated sexc time (but NO SMUT I RPOMISE),

It was always that little cold cold heart of his that beat incredibly fast, only for you.

His hands were clammy and he swore that if he looked in the mirror, he'd see droplets of perspiration dotted on the crown of his head.

The day he never thought would happen was at the tip of his hands, filled with love and pride as he watched you walk his way, a bouquet held tight in your hands, in your lower belly as you smiled so brightly, illuminating the room with what only he could describe as pure happiness.

Jungkook was at your side, leading you to the altar and to Yoongis’ awaiting hand. He’d seen you cry weeks before, wrapping you in his arms at the fact that your father was not present - or alive to walk you down the aisle. But when Yoongi offered to ask Jungkook, you nodded, and Jungkook didn’t hesitate to do as was asked of him.

And truly, Yoongi thanked him, hugging him with might as he had made you so happy to oblige. There was a part of him that felt… ashamed for the undisclosed transgression that he had done years before. Your tears always debilitated him, but like always, the other part of him - the immoral man that stood before you, simply was apathetic, selfishly keeping you to his side.

He never thought he’d live long enough to fall and love and marry the love of his life, but the day was here, his whole world walking towards him.

And it was just as you wished. A small get together with trusted business partners, and close family members.

Yoongi looked at you and only you, deciding to place his hate for his parents at the back of his mind because they didn't matter. They never have. He had plans of course, that even though Jungkook was at your side, he stayed with the thought of asking his own father to accompany you down the isle.

But his parents didn’t agree and didn’t show.

All for marrying you.

They too had plans; for Yoongi to marry into a family that wasn’t much different from theirs, criminals with blood money, running and never safe. Yoongi declined. The second he saw you, you were marked as his.

“Hello, Mrs. Min.” Yoongi whispered teasingly, your hand pressing tightly against his. He could see you were nervous from that little quirk that came from your furrowed brow, but yet you smiled, huffing a small hi his way.

“You may kiss the bride.”

And hell, like he’d have to be told twice. With vigorous want, he cupped your cheeks in his pale hands, locking your lips together that placed the last nail on the coffin. You were now his wife in the underground hellhole he resided - but no, he’d taken his own word that he’d never drag you down and involve you in anything that had to do with the risks of his position.

In a few years, he’ll retire and hand the reigns to his trusted partner, the doe eyed innocent looking man, who had absolutely nothing of innocence inside. Jungkook would be a good leader, after all, Yoongi raised him and taught the man everything he knew.

And hopefully, after he retired, you’d have a family of your own - a child or two, living life at peace until you were frail and grey.

“I’m so happy.” You voiced, your head on his chest as you both swayed to the music, your first dance as husband and wife.

Though you didn’t smile, he could see it in your eyes, gleaming with contentment. Yoongi smiled. This was all he ever wanted. “I love you.” He said, pecking your cheek, and your lips, causing you to chuckle.

“I love you too. So much, you have no idea.”

He did.

He loved you to an extent that had no measure and he knew that by your side, it was a euphoria that he couldn’t explain or comprehend.

“What do you say… that we kick everyone out, and we get started on our honeymoon, hm?” Your laugh was otherworldly, your head thrown back at the sight of your husband’s eyebrows playfully jumping up and down.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Min.”

“No, honey. It’s whatever you say.”

PRESENT DAY:

Yoongi smiled with sadness at the picture on his desk, gently bouncing Myunghee on his lap as she scuffled, wanting to cry.

The photo depicted the both of you, your white dress flowing on your body as he carried you on his back, your legs wrapped around his waist with a humorous expression on your face.

He no longer saw that light - that innocence and happiness in your eyes.

He had washed it all away.

“Shhh, sweetheart.” With a peck he wrapped a hand on her raven hair, maneuvering her tiny body in his chest to make her comfortable.

"Mommy's fine. I promise. She just needs more time to adjust. I promise, as soon as she’s out of that room, we’ll be a happy family. Just like how we talked about. How do you feel about being a big sister, hm? I love you so so so much.”

What did you think? He had never taken words too light. When you voiced your never ending love for him in your vows, he tucked your actions into his cold, beating heart and with stubbornness, he held tight with a vice grip.

Till death do us both part.

And he’d be sure that was a promise you were going to keep.

Vows aka 10 ways to win your husband's heart Masterlist

An arranged marriage AU

You've been in your arranged marriage with Yoongi for five years, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.

Vows Part 1 Part 2

Drabbles - Sorry, Pretend, Lonely, The suit, Choices, Geneva, Avila, Drive stick, Sire, Drown, Sulky

Schooled - Seokjin's revenge

Firsts

Everything

Doll

Penance

Every time like the first time

Switch pt 2

Untouchable

First Strike

©hamsterclaw 2022-2023

How is he both annoying and sweet, it's like I'm in between 🙄 and 🥺

Amygdala

Masterlist

Chapter 14

Margot awoke to her a gentle shaking on her shoulder. 

“Come on, jagiya.” Yoongi spoke softly, shaking her awake. “You need to wake up, baby.” She groaned, burrowing further into the blanket while Yoongi looked down at her fondly. “I know you’re not feeling good, baby, but you need to get up.” 

She didn’t move.

“Come on, baby.” He cooed, slipping his arms underneath her and picking her up bridal style as she groaned and buried her face into his shoulder. “You need to eat something, and then I promise you can go back to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.” 

“You have to, baby. You didn’t eat much today.” 

“Whose fault is that?” she huffed, clinging to him as he walked them into the kitchen where a bowl of juk was waiting for her. 

“Food, pain medicine, and then bed.” He ordered, setting her down at the island. 

“Fuck off.” Margot grumbled, picking up the spoon and stirring around the contents of the bowl. “I hate your dishes.” 

He scoffed out the smallest of laughs, taking a seat next to her. “What’s wrong with my dishes?”

“They’re sanatorium white.” 

Yoongi chuckled, gazing at her fondly. “We can get new dishes. You can change anything in the apartment that you’d like. Redecorate to your heart’s content. It’s your house too, jagiya.” 

She looked over at him disgruntled. “This is not my house.” 

“Of course it is.” he shrugged. “Eat.” 

Reluctantly, Margot took a bite of the juk. It had never been her favorite dish. Something about the texture of the rice just wasn’t her favorite, too much like oatmeal too mushy, but it was a staple food for those who didn’t feel well. It also had the added benefit of being easy on an upset stomach. It reminded her of the BRAT diet her mom had used to put her on whenever she’d had stomach issues as a child. 

Thinking of it made her inexplicably homesick. It was a feeling she didn’t get very often, but when she did, it hit like a truck. She missed her family, her friends. She missed the streets she’d grown up on. She missed not having to worry about a man who had a delusional obsession with her. 

“How’s your head?” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Seongnam said you had a migraine today.” 

“Seongnam should mind his own business.” she shot back, shooting him a glare from the corner of her eye. 

“Looking after you is his business.” 

She barked out a laugh, the sound more like a scoff than anything else. “I’m not a fucking child, Yoongi. I don’t need a babysitter to look after me.” 

Yoongi stared her down, his expression less than amused. 

“You do if you don’t take care of yourself.” 

“I got on just fine before you decided to barge in the take over.” she reminded him, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you understand how incredibly creepy it is that you have people who watch my every move twenty-four-seven?” She questioned, head tilted slightly to the side. 

“It’s for your own safety, jagiya.” he grumbled, jaw clenched tightly, his fingers tapping a harsh rhythm against the top of the island. 

“Is it for my safety or your comfort?” 

Margot let a spoonful of juk fall back into the bowl, completely uninterested in the meal set before her, her stomach too twisted in knots to really consider eating anything. The throbbing in her skull didn’t help with her appetite either. 

As a teacher, Margot was used to being tired. It was a tiring profession, but there was a bone deep exhaustion hanging about her today that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was the kind of tired that made her want to spend all day curled up in bed until the rest of the world faded away and all the thoughts cluttering her head faded with it. 

The only cure for it was a lazy day, to rot in bed until she was ready to emerge from her cocoon when her bones felt a little less heavy and the world seemed a little easier to face as it came back into focus. While she’d spent the majority of the day sleeping, she wasn’t quite ready to face the reality of the situation. But Yoongi was insistent on making sure her basic physical needs were met even if the meeting of them pulled a little more on the frayed edges of her soul.

With a heavy sigh, Margot stood, pushing herself up using the island as support. “I’m going to bed.” 

Yoongi’s hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist, the pressure firm but not so harsh that it hurt. It was a silent command to stay where she was, to sit back down before he was forced to make her. 

“You need to eat, baby.” She didn’t say anything, staring at him blankly as he searched her face for any sign that she was going to back down of her own free will. “Just a few more bites, baby.” Still she didn’t move. “Please.” 

The last word came out strained, ragged as though his nerves were as ragged as hers. He needed this. He needed to know that she was safe and well cared for, and for the moment the only thing he could do to make that happen was to make sure she ate something.

He’d gotten updates from her security team as the day had gone on. Yeong had been concerned by how little she’d eaten that morning before she’d gone to lie down again. Baek-ah had reported that she’d barely even stirred during his shift let alone eaten anything. She’d been a little more active during Seongnam’s shift, but she’d only had a few bites of an early dinner and some tea before she’d gone back to sleep again. Overall, the sum of what she’d consumed that day was small enough to cause Yoongi concern. Even if she didn’t want to stay and eat, she needed to, and Yoongi was going to make sure she was safe and healthy even if she wasn’t happy about it.  

“Please,” He tried again, forcing his expression to soften even as annoyance ticked at his jaw. “Just a few more bites, Mari. You didn’t eat today.” 

Margot stared at him trying to puzzle out the look in his eye.

 There was the clear layer of exhaustion, the mirror of her own, but there was also a gleam of something else, something frantic and feral clawing at the edges of his being. It was the same emotion that she’d seen the night before as Yoongi had dragged her from her home. It was as wounded as it was feral, as frayed and worn down as she felt. 

She stared for a few moments more, taking in the information she’d just gleaned, trying to figure out the best course of action even as her own body screamed for her to return to the comfort of sleep. She knew what would be best for her, and yet there was a part of her, so entwined with the entirety of her being, that told her to put the needs of others before her own, and somehow, despite everything, that still included Yoongi. 

Slowly, Margot sat back down, keeping a careful eye on Yoongi as she did, watching as the tense set of his shoulders eased as she settled back down in front of the bowl of juk.

“Just a few more bites.” he assured her, seeing the way she eyed the bowl as though it was going to bite her.

“Don’t.” she sighed, her voice having its hard edge. “Don’t talk to me like a child. This situation is demeaning enough as it is.” 

She didn’t want to be cajoled into eating the meal before her. She didn’t want to even think of taking another bite, the very thought of it making her stomach roll unpleasantly. 

“Baby?” Yoongi’s brow furrowed as he watched the color drain from her face. “Baby, are you okay?” 

“I can’t…” she paused, taking a breath to steady herself. “I don’t think I can eat it.” 

Yoongi’s frown deepened, the knowledge that sometimes when she had a migraine it made her too nauseous to keep anything down coming to the front of his thoughts. 

“Baby?” he reached forward, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Shit.” he cursed under his breath feeling how clammy her skin had gotten, and silently berating himself for not noticing sooner how poorly she actually felt. “I’m sorry, baby. You don’t have to eat it. You can eat something in the morning when you feel better.” he murmured, smoothing some fly-away strands away from her face. “Do you want to go lie down again?” 

Margot nodded, swallowing back the feeling of nausea creeping up her throat. 

“Okay.” Yoongi nodded. “Okay. Let’s get you to bed.” 

Margot grumbled a little as Yoongi once more scooped her up. “I can walk on my own, you know? I’m nauseous, not broken.”

“Let me baby you.” He shushed her, heading towards the bedroom. 

“I’m not a baby, Yoongi. I just don’t feel well. You’re being overbearing.” 

He chuckled a little at that, gazing down at where she rested her head against his shoulder, leaning into his embrace even as she complained about him carrying her. 

“You deserve to be babied, jagi, especially when you don’t feel well.” 

“I can baby myself.” 

“Ah,” he hummed, giving her a soft smile. “But that’s my job, jagiya.” 

“You’re insufferable.” She sighed, a sudden wave of nausea having her tighten her around his shoulders, her whole body tensing.

“Almost there, sweetheart.” he mumbled, tightening his own hold around her. 

Ture to his word, they arrived at the bedroom in just a few moments where Yoongi gently laid her out on the bed. 

“I’m going to grab you some pain meds. Okay, jagi?” 

She didn’t respond, choosing instead to turn onto her side and curling into a ball, wanting nothing more than to be asleep again. 

Yoongi returned swiftly with the promised pain meds and a glass of water for her. 

“Okay, jagi. I need you to sit up for a moment.” She huffed, ignoring his request as she snuggled further into the pillows. “Come on, jagi.” 

Gently, Yoongi helped her to sit up, handing her the pills and the glass of water. 

“You take those. I’m going to go get you some pajamas, sweetheart.” “You know what would make me feel better?” Called after him after swallowing the pills.

“You’re not getting your own room, Mari-ah.” he answered over his shoulder, not even needing to hear the question to know what she wanted. 

Yoongi entered the closet, pleased to see that her things had all seemingly arrived, even if they had yet to be unpacked. Without much care for the mess he was making, Yoongi began to dig through the boxes in search of something she could wear to bed. They needed to unpack, but that could wait until another day. If worse came to worst, he could always have the housekeeper do it as well if his Mari insisted on being stubborn, but she couldn’t live out of boxes forever. 

Her side of the closet would fill up with her own things, everything put into their proper places, and he would add to her side of the closet as well. Margot would be one of the most spoiled women in Seoul if he had anything to say about it. Anything her heart desired would be hers. 

Yoongi managed to find a worn pair of gray sleep shorts before becoming frustrated with digging through the boxes, moving instead to his own side of the closet in search of a shirt for her.

Quickly, Yoongi pulled out a large black t-shirt. Deeming the combination of his shirt and her shorts as adequate enough sleepwear, he made his way back to Margot who was leaning back against the pillows with her eyes closed. 

“I got you some clothes, jagi.” She opened her eyes, gaze flitting to the clothes in his hand and then back to his face, disinterested. 

Yoongi sighed, setting the little pile of clothes on the bed. “I’ll step out so you can change.” 

“Surprisingly gentlemanly for a kidnapper.” 

He quirked a brow, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “I could stay if you want.” 

She froze, her spine straightening. “No. Nope. No thank you. You can go.” She shooed him away as he tried to suppress a laugh.

“Didn’t think so.” 

Yoongi gave her a few minutes to change before he entered the room again. He could have sworn that his heart stopped beating for a moment as he saw her standing there in his shirt.

“This is your shirt.” she accused, voice soft as she watched him enter the room. 

“All of your things are still in boxes, jagi.” he pointed out gently, thinking to himself that it wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t unpack if he got to see her in his clothes more often. 

“Stop that.” she snapped, though her tone didn’t have any real bite to it. 

“Stop what?” 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

Yoongi had to suppress the smile tugging at the corner of his lips as she glared at him. “Looking at you like what, jagiya?”

“All soft and mushy. It’s annoying.” 

Leisurely, Yoongi crossed the room to where she stood glaring at him like a disgruntled cat. She didn’t move as he approached, only watching carefully as he got closer. 

“I can’t be soft with you, jagiya?” he asked, gently sliding a hand through her hair, his hand coming to a rest along her jaw with his thumb brushing a gentle line across her cheek bone. 

“Stop that.” She hissed, stepping away. “We aren’t lovers.” 

“We could be.” 

She paused, seemingly struck speechless by the bold proclamation. 

She spoke after a moment, her voice barely a whisper as she finished mulling over what he’d just said. “No. We couldn’t be.”