Oh I Feel So Insane

oh i feel so insane

oh, how adorable!

r o c k s t a r {cr. 0613data}

Yoongi fingering u till u squirrttttttt

my god, anon. i don't know what to tell you. this was supposed to be a short lil drabble like the rest and then..... that that live yoongi happened and i. uh. my brain short-circuited. the thirst for this man overtook me. i think i just wrote the nastiest porn of my whole career lmao.

so anyway uhhhhhh - HOPE YOU ENJOY 🤪

pairing: yoongi x reader wordcount: 4.8k DO NOT FUCKING @ ME contains: my first ever OT7 scene :') ft. an incredibly dumb conversation abt squirting, best friend's friend to lovers (? idk what else to call it lmao), squirt god min yoongi (yes that's a warning), yoongi is in his that that live outfit bc i'm a menace to society, a lil bit of edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, and obv. a whoooole lot of tongue and finger fucking and SQUIRTING 💦💦💦

“Remember that girl I took home last night?”

You just know Taehyung is about to say something gross by the look in his eye, the way he bites down on the edge of his red solo cup as he glances around the circle of his friends.

Well, his friends and you. There’s a clear distinction.

A few heads nod, shoulders shrug. You brace yourself.

“Fucking geyser, I’m serious. Soaked my whole bed. I had to sleep on the couch.”

Hoseok’s loud cackle rings in your ears, and he has to cling to Jimin’s arm to stay upright, clearly already well past tipsy. “I was wondering why you were washing your sheets! That’s typically a once-a-year activity for you, Taehyung-ah!”

You make sure Seokjin doesn’t miss the death glare that you aim in his direction. He dragged you to this stupid party, said otherwise he’d spend the whole time in the corner reading webtoons on his phone. And now you have to tolerate the absolute fuckery of his nasty friends.

He grimaces a silent apology back at you, bringing one hand up to smack Tae firmly on the back of the head.

“She peed?!” Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he pauses with his own drink halfway to his mouth.

Everyone reacts at once: Hoseok quite literally doubles over, Taehyung fights to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up, Jimin gives an aggressive side-eye, Seokjin covers his face with his hand. Even Yoongi reacts, smiling a rare wide smile, shoulders shaking a little with laughter.

Namjoon takes the educational opportunity, clapping a hand firmly to Jungkook’s back. “Do you know what squirting is?”

You watch as Jungkook’s eyes flit across the circle. “I thought it was pee,” he admits, voice a little quieter this time.

“You are so fucking dumb,” Jimin says, shooting Jungkook a look of utter disgust. Hoseok is literally on the floor at this point.

“It’s, uh…” Namjoon makes a face as he searches for the right words. “Female ejaculate.”

“Girl cum?” Jungkook translates.

“I don’t care if it was piss, it was fucking hot,” Taehyung says as he downs the last of his drink.

“You’re disgusting,” Seokjin says with a shake of his head as he offers a hand to help Hoseok to his feet. Taehyung sticks his tongue out, waggling it side-to-side, which just sends Hoseok right back down again with another peal of laughter.

“I’ve never hooked up with a squirter,” Jungkook says softly, like he’s a little disappointed.

You open your mouth to speak up, as the only person with a vagina currently partaking in the conversation, but Yoongi beats you to it. “You just don’t know what you’re doing.”

His words surprise you for a second, but you shake it off and continue. “Not every girl can squirt. Most can’t.” You shrug slightly.

“That’s not true,” Yoongi counters, and you whip your head to look at him.

“What the fuck do you know, Min Yoongi?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You don’t know why Seokjin thought it was a good idea to bring you around his friends, when he knows you have no filter.

Yoongi raises a hand, as if to signal that he’s not trying to fight. “I’m just saying. Once you learn what to do, anyone can get there. Just takes some patience. And a lot of foreplay. But I’ve never not made a girl squirt.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’ve never squirted.”

It takes a moment for you to realize what you’ve set yourself up for, and you have to fight the urge to clap a hand over your mouth. The same response ripples through the group a millisecond later: eyes widening, lips pursing in silent expressions of shock.

“I think I need another drink– should we all go?” Namjoon asks, extremely unsubtle.

Before you can scramble to even think, let alone say anything, he’s got his arms around Taehyung and Jungkook’s shoulders and is shoving them towards the kitchen. Seokjin and Jimin work together to peel Hoseok off the floor and quickly follow.

Which just leaves you, Yoongi, and a very interesting proposition.

“So, are we doing this?” You ask bluntly.

Yoongi shrugs. “Only if you want to.”

You shoot him a look. “Don’t act all shy now, squirt god!” He exhales a soft laugh, and you gesture to the stairs. “Lead the way.”

It’s only once you’re perched on the end of his bed, eyes roving over the minimal, clean space of his room, that your nerves start to betray you. Yoongi sets his drink on the dresser next to yours, then drops down beside you.

You stare at the floor, unsure of what to do next, vaguely aware of his bent knees poking out of the large holes in his light wash jeans. He gently rests a hand on your thigh, and you’re wound up enough that you flinch at his touch.

“We seriously don’t have to do this.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” You ask, feigning ignorance and trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Might have something to do with the fact that this is the first one-on-one conversation we’ve ever had.”

You meet his gaze, a little surprised by the open expression on his face. You’ve always seen him as so reserved. “You don’t exactly say much.”

Yoongi shrugs like he can’t disagree. “Hard to get a word in with those guys sometimes.” He pauses, like he’s debating whether or not to keep talking, then continues. “And I figured Jin was playing some long game with you, so I was trying to be respectful.”

You make a face of sheer disbelief. “What?! Seokjin is my best friend, Yoongi. Period, end of sentence. It’s not like that and never has been.”

“Huh.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can’t read the expression on his face. You turn towards Yoongi, pulling one bent leg up on the bed to fully face him. “What was that noise supposed to mean?”

“That’s just… interesting.”

“Stop being cagey.” You drive a finger into his side and he squirms a little. “What’s interesting?” Does he know something about Seokjin that he’s keeping from you?

“Well, I was clearly operating under false pretenses. Otherwise I probably would’ve acted differently around you.”

“Differently how?” You quickly chase his vague statement, pushing him, trying to understand. Yoongi doesn’t respond immediately, but the bed shifts as he mirrors your position, turning to open himself up to you. “What would you have done, Yoongi?” You try again, getting frustrated.

A shiver runs down your spine as he brings a hand to gently cup your jaw, his touch feather-light. His thumb strokes over your cheek and you swear your heartbeat falters.

“This,” he says simply, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. And then he brings his mouth to yours.

His lips are soft and warm as they brush over yours, if a little tentative, like he expects you to pull away at any second. But the heat of his mouth ignites a spark in your belly that you’re suddenly desperate for more of.

You move your mouth against his, chasing the feeling as you bring a hand to the nape of his neck. Your fingers wind through his dark hair– you’d noticed when he walked in the door tonight how long it’s gotten, had thought absent-mindedly to yourself that it looked good on him.

Your head spins. Min fucking Yoongi. How is this real life? You’d honestly never thought twice about him– just lumped him in with the rest of Seokjin’s dumb friends. It’s starting to occur to you that maybe overlooking him was a mistake.

That suspicion is confirmed when he slips his tongue into your mouth to slide expertly over yours.

You run your other hand up his chest, fingers tracing the buttons of his overshirt, then the smooth cotton of the tank top beneath it. The wet heat of his mouth is already making you dizzy.

Yoongi brings a hand to the small of your back, moving the other from your jaw down to meet it. He shifts a little, but he doesn’t break away from you, and you gasp softly into his mouth when both hands drop to your ass to pull you into his lap in one smooth motion. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of him, your hips settling on top of his.

He kisses you for a second longer, tongue stroking over yours deftly enough that you can barely suppress the whimper it works out of you. Then he finally pulls back to glance up at you. His lips are full and pink, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. The unbuttoned linen shirt he’s wearing has slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin and solid muscle.

There’s a look on his face, mouth dropped open slightly, like he can’t quite believe this is really happening. You can relate.

“Still want to do this?” Yoongi asks quietly, voice still low and a little hoarse now. His hands are pressed to your hips, thumbs tracing light patterns over the fabric of your jeans.

You can hardly find your voice to speak– when the word comes out, it’s a whisper, and one you can’t say emphatically enough. “Yes.”

He tilts his head up towards you and your lips find his, needier this time. There’s an undeniable ache in your core now, desire spreading through you like a licking flame. Yoongi’s hands start to move over your back, dragging the hem of your shirt up, and you break away from him only for as long as it takes to peel it over your head. You press your mouth to his again before the fabric has even hit his bedroom floor.

Yoongi’s kisses are sloppier now, tongue tasting yours with added urgency, momentarily rendering you breathless. You follow his lead, hands grasping to push his overshirt down his arms, then reaching to tug at his tank top. It’s like you can’t move fast enough– you’re shaking a little as he leans back, raising his arms to allow you to pull it off. You feel the heat of his touch at the center of your spine, and then he’s slipping your bra off, too, everything tossed off the edge of the bed to join your shirt.

The brush of his hands over your bare skin, running up the curve from your hip to your waist, is enough to make you shiver under his palms, nipples tightening.

Yoongi licks his lips as his eyes roam appreciatively over your body, but then his gaze meets yours again, and in a way this moment of anticipation feels more intimate than anything you’ve done tonight. You in his lap, both of you naked from the waist up, faces flushed with heat and want. Hovering at the precipice of something you don’t have words for.

“Lay down for me,” he says quietly. The darkness of his voice thrums through you.

You do as he says, thighs shaking slightly as you slide off of him and move to settle against the soft pillows with a slow inhale. You can only watch, dazed, as Yoongi gets to his feet– you swallow hard at the sound of his belt hitting the floor. He slips out of his ripped jeans, down to just his black boxer-briefs.

When he crawls up the bed to join you, you’re transfixed by the way his silver necklaces dangle, catching the dim lamplight. He kneels to one side of you, hands coming to unbutton the fly of your jeans and push them down your thighs. You do the rest, peeling them all the way off and tossing them to the floor.

His hands slide up your thighs, one encouraging your legs apart while the other rubs gently back and forth, his touch sending sparks through you. You can feel your heartbeat at the center of your ribcage, swear you can see it in the rise and fall of your chest as you glance up at him looking down over you.

“Stop me if you’re going to come, okay?”

You nod your understanding, but he must be able to read the confusion painted on your face. He shifts up the bed to lean over you, his breath ghosting along the shell of your ear.

“Save it for me, and I’ll show you what that pussy can do.”

Yoongi chases the words with a languid stripe licked up your neck, and it’s enough to make your brain short-circuit.

Never in your life has a man preemptively warned you to not come. Most of them have struggled to make it happen at all. You can’t help but wonder if you really did underestimate Yoongi’s abilities.

It certainly feels that way as he continues to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest, bringing one hand to gently cup and massage your breast as he goes, the pad of his thumb circling your nipple. His mouth catches up to his touch, and he sucks in the bud of that breast while his hand moves to work the other just the same.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you breathe.

Everything he’s doing is intoxicating, enough that there’s now a steady pulse emanating from between your legs. When he shifts to pull your other breast into his mouth, tongue swirling over your nipple in a way that makes you whimper and arch into him, he drops one of his legs down onto the mattress between your thighs.

You take advantage of the opportunity presented to you, thighs squeezing and hips canting up to drag your core over the smooth muscle of his leg, desperate for contact, for friction. Yoongi releases your nipple from between his teeth, giving a self-satisfied hum that you can feel buzz in his throat against your skin.

“Getting worked up already?” His words are punctuated by the kisses he trails down the valley between your breasts. “Keep going,” he urges.

Your mind is swimming with arousal, and each pass of your cunt over his thigh is enough to further dampen your now soaked-through panties. You’re not sure how much more worked up you could get. But Yoongi is clearly determined to find your limit.

When he shifts to move his mouth further down your body, he quickly replaces the thigh you’ve been grinding into with his hand, cupping over your center, his whole palm rubbing circles into the lace of your panties that make your clit twitch. You writhe under him as he sucks a mark into your hip bone, pulling sounds out of you: a mixture of heady groans at the welcome friction and soft whines at how indirect the pressure still is. You need more, more– you lift up to press your hips into his touch in search of relief. 

All too quickly, the motion of his palm stills, and you can’t help the strangled noise that escapes you. Both of his hands slip down your body, coming to rest at your hips, and his thumbs hook under your panties to push them down your thighs.

You fumble for a second, lifting your knees up to your chest to finish pulling your underwear over your ankles. As you fling your last article of clothing off the side of the bed and attempt to lower your legs down, you’re surprised to feel Yoongi’s hands pressing firmly into the backs of your thighs.

“Stay just like that,” he instructs, and you listen, crossing your ankles and following the encouragement of his touch to keep your legs pulled up, your bare cunt fully exposed for him.

You don’t know what to expect next– his fingers, maybe his tongue– but it’s certainly not what he does, which is look up at you and calmly ask, “How do you feel?”

Your answer is not a word in any language; it’s somewhere between a moan and a noise of pure frustration. Folded in half for him like this, you swear you can feel arousal starting to drip out of your pussy.

“That’s pretty good,” Yoongi remarks, lazily bringing one hand up to encircle your ankle in his grasp, enjoying his free rein over your body as it’s offered up to him. Even that gentle touch is enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. “But I think we can do better.”

You nod your head in a silent request as you watch him lean down onto the mattress, lowering himself to be eye-level with your pussy. “Haven’t even tasted you yet.”

“Please, Yoongi,” you gasp, and you can feel his breath over you, the heat and anticipation sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core.

“Just remember to stop me,” he warns, and then he leans forward to lick a thick stripe up your cunt. You cry out at the sensation, the wetness and warmth of his tongue sliding through your folds, and your head kicks back against the pillow as you feel his fingers gently part your inner lips for better access.

He pulls away for a fraction of a second, just long enough to hum softly and murmur “so fucking wet” under his breath. Your hands grip the bedsheets as he dives back in with even more enthusiasm, spreading you wide open.

The heat he’s been building up in you all night is coiling devastatingly tight in your core now– your head is spinning, your nipples so stiff that they ache. The thought of asking him to stop, and probably soon, from how deliberately he’s eating you out, feels nearly impossible.

Yoongi seems to settle in as he falls into a pattern with his movements: lazily circling your entrance a few times before delving in and fucking you all-too-briefly with his talented tongue, enough to make your walls squeeze greedily around him. After a few more thrusts he withdraws, using a long lick to drag your collected wetness up, his tongue pressing flat and heavy. When he reaches your clit he flicks gently over the sensitive bud a few times, eventually pulling it into his mouth to suck, eliciting a loud moan from you.

“Oh fuck, fuck, Yoongi–”

You swear you can feel him smiling smugly as he returns to your entrance to start again, somehow both sloppy and precise, humming a little in a way that sends a devastating wave of vibrations through you.

He keeps everything so slow it’s nearly torture, building up the tightening pressure inside of you a little more with each pass, but purposefully never staying so consistent that you tip over the edge– just leaving you wet enough to drown in. You can’t stop the moans and whimpers he pulls out of you now, the way your hips jerk under his mouth.

He’s fucking good at this.

You lose track of how many times he goes through the process, until you’re wound so tight with arousal you think you might burst.

“Yoongi,” you whine, and he must be able to hear the change in your voice.

Yoongi’s mouth freezes, lips still wrapped around your clit. His hands move to your thighs, gently ushering your feet to return to the mattress on either side of his head, your legs still spread wide, so he can see you. He hums around you as if to ask a question, and your hips shudder beneath him.

That must be a good enough answer, because he pulls off of you, reaching up to wipe an errant strand of slick from his bottom lip. Everything about him in this moment makes your pussy throb: his mouth, nose and chin are all coated in your juices, the results of his efforts, and his pupils are blown black with lust and something that looks like determination.

You have no idea how long it’s been since you disappeared up the stairs together. Hours, maybe days. Yoongi certainly looks like he could do this forever.

“Gonna come?” He murmurs, nuzzling his cheek absent-mindedly against your inner thigh as he holds your gaze.

“I–” He hasn’t let you get that close yet, but you feel so fucking full, like your core isn’t capable of holding onto any more pleasure. “I can’t take any more,” you say, and the desperation in your own voice sounds so ridiculous to you that you let out a crazed laugh. “I’m gonna fucking die, Yoongi.”

“Yeah?” There’s a glint in his eyes, like he’s not going to let you tap out that easily. “What if I do this?”

His tongue returns to your clit, but this time he’s no longer teasing. His rhythm is consistent now, lapping against you in short, deliberate strokes, over and over. You can feel every muscle in your core tensing as he works you relentlessly towards your peak.

When your back starts to arch, it takes everything in you to say his name. “Yoongi,” you gasp, and he knows you’re about to come, must be able to tell by the way you start to shake underneath him. You cry out a sound that’s nearly a sob when he pulls back quickly and everything comes to a screeching halt. It’s like you can feel your orgasm being ripped out from under you.

“Oh my god,” you whine, hips grinding down into the mattress, desperate for any possible friction. “I’m so fucking close, Yoongi, please.”

His eyes linger hungrily over your pussy, the mess he’s made of you. Keeping his touch light, he gently traces a finger over your inner lips, clearly admiring the way it makes you tremble.

“Seems like you’re ready.”

You’d almost forgotten the point of all of this, the initial conversation in the kitchen, the fact that the man now lazily running a finger through your dripping folds is supposedly capable of making anyone squirt and that you are putting him to the test. You already believe it wholeheartedly– you’re just not sure you’ll survive long enough to see it.

Yoongi sits up, shifting to kneel to one side of you, hands encouraging your legs to spread even wider. When he starts to speak, you try as best you can to focus on his words, dizzy as you are with overwhelming need.

“I’m gonna press pretty hard, okay? When it feels like you have to pee, push it out instead of trying to hold it in. I promise, it’s not pee.” He pauses, laughing softly to himself, then adds, “And if it is, honestly, I don’t give a fuck.”

You look up at him, your mind reeling, and you’re not expecting it when he ducks down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Don’t be nervous,” he murmurs as he pulls back. “Just relax and let go. I’ll go until you tell me to stop.” Your heart flutters a little behind your ribs at the softness in his voice, and you nod.

Your breath hitches as you feel Yoongi’s hand return to your center, two fingers moving down slowly to tease at your entrance. The fire in your belly ignites at the soft squelching noise he makes as he circles, just shy of entering you, dampening his digits with your juices.

Relief washes through you as he presses in, and you tip your head back on the pillow with a soft groan. Your lashes flutter as you fight to keep your eyes open, heavy-lidded with lust, to watch him at work.

“Shit,” you hiss as he curls his fingers up to press against your front wall, finding your g-spot like someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. He pushes harder, falling into a steady rhythm, and the pleasure feels like a heavy weight in your gut now. A tingling sensation starts to hum through your limbs.

You’re panting, nearly gasping for breath as he rubs against you, each thrust of his hand accompanied by the slick sounds of your cunt. Your abdomen tightens as the pressure in your core builds, and you really do feel like you’re going to burst, overflow completely.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, “I–I’m– I’m gonna–”

“Push,” he reminds you, and you do just that as the wave crashes over you. A release like nothing you’ve ever felt before rips through you, and you’re so overcome by the feeling that it takes you a few seconds to remember to look down. Shakily tilting your head up, you see clear fluid gushing out of you each time Yoongi pulls back.

When he sees you’re watching, he withdraws entirely, bringing four soaked fingers to your clit to rub fast circles that make you moan loudly as your muscles spasm again. Without his hand there to block it, you watch as an unbroken stream of fluid rushes out of you, spraying over the sheets of his bed.

“Oh my god,” you whine, and you have to tilt your head back and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment just to focus on the feeling alone. “Oh my god.”

Yoongi makes a little noise of appreciation, fingers returning to your entrance, the wet sounds of your cunt now obscene as he pushes in again. “Fuck yeah. So fucking sexy.”

You arch up into his touch as he resumes the firm stroking of his fingers, pounding into your g-spot, hard enough to make your legs shake. When another wave of pleasure rolls through you, you don’t even have to think about it this time. Your body instinctively remembers Yoongi’s instructions, bursts of arousal shooting out of you as you moan softly with each pump of his hand.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you gasp in time with his movements.

“Holy shit,” Yoongi rasps as he draws his fingers out again, and you hear him groan when he returns to your clit and easily works even more wetness out of you. “You just keep fucking coming. Gonna soak my fucking sheets.”

You can barely process what he’s saying. “M-more, Yoongi, please.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’ll give you more.” He adds another finger, driving the thrust of his hand deliberately into the weight at the center of your core, and the stretch only makes you come that much faster. Your pussy starts to quiver as he fucks you through it.

“Yoongiiiii,” you groan, dragging out his name as you squirt again and again. He keeps alternating, fingers slipping into you and working up more, then pulling out to press his hand flat against your whole pussy, rubbing indirectly over your clit. Wetness splashes out of you in endless spurts, soaking your cunt, his hand, the bed. It feels like you're coming for hours.

“No more, no more,” you finally gasp, and when you bring your hand to close over his wrist, Yoongi takes the cue and withdraws.

Your pussy, thighs, even the muscles in your ass are all trembling from overstimulation. As your knees drop in towards each other, you take a moment to let your eyes close, your pulse still racing. You feel absolutely spent.

You can’t believe you just did that. You had no idea your body was capable of such a thing. And before you can even think to stop it, you start to laugh, bringing both hands up to cover your face.

“Oh my god,” you manage to choke out between giggles, your voice muffled in your palms.

You’re vaguely aware of the mattress shifting beside you, and when you pull your hands away, Yoongi is seated next to you, running one hand gently over your arm. “Jesus, are you okay?” When you nod, he seems to relax a little.

“Yeah, but holy shit,” you gasp. “I should’ve taken you more seriously.” Your limbs feel like jello, your mind absolutely gone– you’ve officially been fingerfucked into oblivion. “I nearly died.”

“That was fucking insane,” Yoongi admits, looking mildly dazed himself. You follow his gaze across the bedspread, and your eyes go wide.

“Oh fuck, Yoongi,” you press a hand to your mouth, attempting to hold back more laughter, as you take in the extent of the damage. “Your sheets!”

A sizable wet spot has bloomed under your ass, right in the center of the bed and extending nearly half a foot down towards the end, clear as day against his gray-blue sheets.

“Why didn’t you stop me?!”

“Are you kidding?” He practically growls, free hand palming at the bulge in his briefs. “I’ll take watching you gush like that any day. I can sleep on the couch, I don’t give a fuck.”

It takes all the strength you can muster, given that your limbs still feel like they’re made of lead, but you manage to roll over onto your side to face him. You catch his working hand by the wrist with yours. “There’s always… my bed.”

“Yeah?” A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Think your pussy can recover on the ride over?”

You laugh softly, glancing down at the mess he’s made of you, the lingering sheen from his mouth and your own fluids. “I’m honestly not sure. She might be out of commission.” You do your best to feign innocence when you meet his gaze again with a coy smile. “But my throat is very available.”

Yoongi is already reaching for his jeans. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

some of my favorite moments of yoongi pushing his hair back at d-day tour concerts 😳 (cr. taee and jimimn) HAPPY YOONGI DAY ♡

Too cute ughhh. Cat + ginger yoongi.

Hi, could you do a drabble where your boyfriend Yoongi has to constantly compete against your cat for your affection/attention

SOFT YOONGI HOURS!!!!!!!! i loved this idea so, so much. poor pouty baby :(

Contrary to what Yoongi seemed to think, you could feel him glaring. Not at you — the only other person present — but at the heap of long, grey fur stretched out over your torso and extended legs. Sprawled out across that oversized armchair, your feet swung idly below your knees as they hinged over the plush fabric of the chair’s arm.  

A picture of perfect coziness; so blatantly contrary to your boyfriend’s rigid posture on the adjacent couch. 

He also failed to notice the way your gaze would flicker from the screen ahead to the periphery — to him and his subtly narrowed eyes. You’d had your suspicions for months now, ever since you moved in together, but his stony expression then was the clearest he’d ever made it:   

Min Yoongi was jealous of a cat. And, brat that you were, you seized the opportunity to tease him for it. 

Fingers stroking gently down Michiru’s back, you smirked to yourself and turned your attention back to the television. She was a puddle on your chest, melting further and further into purrs until her yellow orbs drooped into blissed-out crescent moons. 

“Are you tired, baby?” You hummed as you continued your ministrations. Eyes still purposefully fixed on Alley Restaurant, you created the pitfall for Yoongi to fall in. “Should we go to bed?” 

Oblivious to your scheme, in a voice so tiny that your nonchalant mask nearly cracked, Yoongi peeped, “Yes, please.” 

“Hmm?” You turned to him as if his response was a surprise. Like you’d forgotten he was there. Then, laying it on thick, you giggled, “Oh, I was talking to Michiru-sama. She looks exhausted, doesn’t she?” 

Mouth pulling outwards in a straight line, Yoongi’s displeasure came out as a wordless grunt. It took all your restraint not to laugh at his very poorly hidden pout. Swallowing it down, you pursed your lips tight and looked away before he could catch on. 

That poor boy always tried so, so hard to pretend like affection was something he merely — occasionally — tolerated. Like he didn’t want to be the one half-asleep in your lap, with your fingertips rubbing slow circles into his scalp. As if he was just shy of annoyed whenever you pounced on him and polka-dotted kisses over every millimeter of his grimacing face.  

The truth was that Min Yoongi was soft. Sooner or later, you’d get him to admit it. 

You sat in silence for a few minutes before he eventually stirred. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him toss the knitted throw off his lap and make to stand. So, you figured, he’d thrown in the towel and was now going to be grumpy — alone — in bed. But then, you saw him fluff that discarded blanket into the shape of a circle.  

One more harrumph and Yoongi was on his way to you. 

Saying nothing, he gently scooped Michiru into his arms. She was too sleepy to react, opting instead to spill out slowly over his forearms like molasses. He ignored the way your eyes widened while your lap-warmer was extricated; and he continued to do so as he placed her into the little blanket bagel he’d crafted. There was an undeniable smugness on his face when she curled up and let her eyes drift shut again. Entirely unbothered. 

And then he turned back to you. 

“What are you —?” You squeaked out a laugh as his arms hooked under your bent knees and back. Just as carefully as he’d lifted Michiru, Yoongi pulled you off the armchair. He held you just long enough to turn around and plop himself down in the space you were previously occupying with a satisfied sigh. 

Wiggling until you were nestled comfortably against his chest, you looked up to find him gazing at the television instead of back at you. Still smirking, of course, pretending not to notice that there was a full-fledged human being in his lap. 

You tugged gently at one of the strings dangling from his sweatshirt hood. When he didn’t so much as blink, you nudged, “Are we not going to acknowledge what’s happening here?” 

“What’s that, love?” Yoongi asked, feigning surprise at your voice but still not looking, “Or are you talking to my adversary again?” 

You furrowed your brow, lifted your hand from your lap, and poked his cheek lightly with your index finger. “I’m talking to my boyfriend about the turf war he’s waging with our pet.” 

“I’m not waging a war, baby,” Yoongi corrected you softly. Finally, he tilted his head downward to kiss your forehead. You could feel his lips curve into a smile as they hovered over your skin, “I obviously just won it.”