Stellar Behavior Part 2

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 2

“I may consider an alternative with less social catastrophe... If I’m adequately compensated. I was left wanting last time…”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: The time has come for you to collect your favor, but Yoongi is not going to make it easy.

WORD COUNT: 7.3k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: corruption, power dynamics, slight degradation, sexual favors, hate sex, switching, semi-public sex, unprotected sex

A.N. If this part had a title, it would be hate sex. Very hot, explicit hate sex 🔥Let me know if you agree 😏 Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for working through my crazy and being incredible! Enjoy 🔥🔥

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Yoongi pulled on the collar of his shirt as the car took a particularly sharp turn. The sirens were on and the officer driving the car was a bit on edge, so he couldn’t help his scowl. He never liked parades, much less a row of police cars racing to interfere with a petty theft at a charity gala. But the Mayor had insisted the newly appointed Senior Superintendent should look into the matter immediately, so there he was.

He looked outside, the streetlights passing in a blur under his inattentive eyes. He actually didn’t think he’d be able to save Officer Jimin a couple of months back, let alone get a promotion as a result, but here he was. And the night that changed everything still burned in the back of his mind.

He was furious when he left the Aether that night. He remembered storming out with a mix of emotions bubbling like lava inside his chest and slamming the door of his car closed. Despite himself, he drove home in a flash, recklessly letting the heat get to his head. 

It was all your fault that he couldn't get on top of whatever it was that he was feeling. Why was his head filled with images of you? Why he couldn't look at the road? Why he could barely hear another car honking in annoyance when he almost crashed as he turned onto his street?

All he could see was you, with your shiny hair falling over your shoulders, framing a cunning smile trying to hide behind a drink. Your pink cheeks heated him up, and no amount of deep breaths calmed him. He stormed inside his house with your long legs filling his mind as they wrapped around him, and all the way to his bedroom, you haunted him. He pulled his clothes off in a hurry, needing to get the lewd wet sounds of his mouth on your core off his mind, but it was difficult. No matter how fast he rushed, he could still hear himself sucking on your delicious cunt which muffled his own grunts beneath your obscene moans. He was so hard it hurt.

He just needed you out of his system, but as he raised his hand to turn on the shower, he froze. He took a deep breath, and another, then groaned. His eyelids closed before he could stop himself from licking his lips and fingers, letting your faint scent pull a low, deep groan from his throat. He could still feel your hand in his hair, and he needed to live it out. You had kicked him out of the Aether, saying you were done, but this was his house.

He got on the bed and grabbed his hard dick in his hand, closing his fingers around the head before letting himself melt into the soft sheets. Just your scent and taste were enough, and he fisted himself greedily. Fast; he needed you out of his system, so he raced for the peak. It was pathetic how quickly he was spurting white ropes of cum across his chest with nothing but the memory of his face buried in your cunt.

He thought that was what he needed, but ten minutes later he was not calmer or softer. In fact, he wondered if he made it worse by indulging in his dark fantasies, but soon he decided that no one needed to know.

I heard the missus left cause you couldn’t get it up, but won’t you look at that— I guess she just didn’t know how to play. Or maybe you like this. Like not having a choice, to be in danger, to be forced to do something reprehensible.

I have a choice.

Then choose.

His nostrils flared, but he didn't stop jerking off to the thought of you. What you said annoyed him, and he still had no clue why he was rock hard despite it, but there was no point in stopping. He was fucking ready to explode, lick and fuck every inch and hole of yours, and yet here he fucking was, alone on his bed.

He edged himself to the thought of you, reveling in the control he had over his pleasure and yours. It didn't matter to him that his ex complained; he had figured he just didn't want to have sex. Why would he when all she did was complain? He worked too much, he was never home, blah blah blah. Why would he want to be home when all she did was nag and whine? When she left and they divorced, he didn't feel any compulsion to search for sex, so he assumed that it was just what it was.

Months after meeting you, he still didn't know what it was about you. Why was he so inexplicably hard and turned on and ready to fuck your brains out, and so fucking pissed when you dismissed him and left him high and dry? To the point he had to jerk off to the thought of you, only to be disgusted with himself for feeling that way about someone so morally bankrupt. For not getting himself under control.

It occurred to him later that he was mad about not knowing if he'd be able to save Officer Jimin, but those doubts didn't last long. He woke up in the morning after meeting you to the sound of the doorbell, naked on his sheets with dried cum everywhere. Because whoever it was kept persistently pressing the bell, he grabbed a robe and made his way down, only to find no one. Yet, on his front door mat was a big envelope, and in it, something that immediately jolted him to hurry and get dressed.

It was a dashcam from a car that was parked near the incident and caught everything perfectly: another man had shot Officer Junghee, then shoved the gun into Jimin's hands, who ignored him to try and help his partner. The camera's serial number was valid; the car was also filmed parking there earlier that day, so in a matter of hours, Officer Jimin was exonerated of all charges, just like promised.

Yoongi was ecstatic, as was his team, yet as they celebrated, his mind kept reminding him who he should thank. He knew there would be a price, but in his memory, you were a sweet tease, ready to drive him crazy and fuck him in every way his mind came up with. The disgust that haunted him with every fantasy angered him, but did little to cool him. 

To curb the insanity of his thoughts, he looked up your record and found nothing. Distance and discipline worked wonders to remind himself, eventually, that it didn't matter how attracted he was to you or how many times he fucked you in his mind. You were the worst kind of criminal — the one that led others to commit the crimes for you. You were a despicable person, and you'd ask for something equally so in exchange for saving an innocent. He needed to stay sharp.

He was pulled out of his reverie when the car stopped before the charmingly decorated venue where most of the city’s echelon had gathered to attend a charity ball. A police agent at the scene waved him over to enter the building, and he didn’t waste any time. It frustrated him that he was there just to show face when he had better things to do, but even that evaporated quickly in the face of who was expecting him.

He scoffed and chuckled bitterly when he entered a backroom to meet the complainant, only to be met with you. You were the embodiment of an angel, with bloodshot eyes releasing tears that didn't make a dent on your perfect makeup. Your long blue dress was elegant, covering your generous figure chastely while you cried about being a victim.

“I can't believe this happened at a charity event!”

Yoongi didn't react, the show wasn't for him; it was for the event organizer, who was trying to avoid a scandal, “I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding!” She suddenly noticed him and the officer beside him, and her face lit up like a Christmas tree, “The Senior Superintendent is here, as promised!”

Your eyes finally turned to him, and the corners of your mouth twitched. You had noticed him entering the backroom, but now you could officially address him.

Between the organizer trying to flaunt the idea of the force protecting the good people of Seoul and you offering resistance to the idea that your purse wasn't long gone, he didn't know what drained his patience more. Finally, he decided it was you because surely this was all a ruse and you either wanted to make him look like a fool or to finally name your price.

“I'm sure the Senior Superintendent brought enough Officers to sweep the place from top to bottom—”

“Maybe we should retrace my steps,” you interrupted crudely, getting up from the long velvet chaise to fix your eyes on him.

He instantly understood what you wanted, and despite not agreeing with all the bullshit, he wanted to get it over with.

“I shall accompany you,” he agreed before following after you when you briskly walked away.

He managed to wave to the nearby officers to stay there and work the ground while your heels tapped across the marble floor. The hallway in front of you was decorated with astonishing sculptures, the likes that Yoongi had never seen, but he didn’t have time to wonder about the magnanimous hotel the gala was taking place in.

You were walking like you owned the place, and it made him grind his teeth as he followed you. How could anyone believe your made-up story? To them, you were a tycoon, owning many restaurants, clubs, and other businesses, so how come your security had let your purse be taken?

He knew better, of course; you were a criminal who led one of the most powerful organizations in the city. No one would be stupid enough to come close, and so he scoffed. This situation was ridiculous.

“Just a bit further,” you voiced.

“Shouldn't we be going to the entrance?”

His monotone voice made no impression as you reached the end of another corridor, where two men were standing. You extended your arm, receiving your purse promptly from one of them before the other opened the door for you. Yoongi simply followed you into the foyer, decorated like an elegant waiting room. Yet you still didn't stop and made your way to another door.

He followed you into what was the most luxurious bathroom he had ever seen. Everything was marble, the chandeliers were antiques, and there was even a corner where people could sit down and use the many toiletries and cosmetics available.

“My, following a lady into the bathroom?”

Your mocking tone made his eyebrow twitch, “I'll wait outside.”

“Nonsense,” you simply said before turning to the mirror to make sure your makeup was perfect. 

You twisted your nose at some invisible detail while he waited. He absolutely detested the perfect curve of your back and ass as you leaned forward, and even more the way your hair fell gracefully around you. You were beautiful and wasting everyone's time.

“Now,” you voiced, turning to him. “I'm glad you could take a moment from your busy schedule to help me with my little problem.”

“You clearly have no problem,” he said, relaxing his shoulders. “So lets get to business.”

“My, Chief,” you brought your hand to your chest as though you were hurt. “Did the promotion get to your head?” He raised an eyebrow, and you chuckled and stepped toward him, “Didn't think you'd be that affected by power.”

“I'm not,” he bit between his teeth, eying you attentively while you circled him and reached for the items on the counter behind him.

“Good, good,” you said dismissively, then circled back towards the mirror. “Then you're still the man who isn't afraid to beg and keeps his word.”

Your tone was a bit colder as you leaned toward the mirror to apply a dark red shade of lipstick, and he frowned. It was hard to follow your thoughts, but it didn't matter. He needed to know what you wanted so he could try to finally lock you up for being a criminal mastermind.

“I am, so what is it that you want?”

“I heard your office was looking into the Klysa conglomerate for suspected fraud,” you started, batting your eyelashes as if you had just remembered it. “I need them out of the game.”

“So?” He asked dryly, sharp eyes unfazed by the request.

“So, I have a little something to help you nail them for good,” you reached inside your purse, then pulled his hand to you and placed the flash drive in his palm. “Just put the contents of this drive in any of their computers during your search and—”

“That’s illegal,” he interrupted, leaving his open palm with the USB stick on it.

“So?” Your tone was mocking as you raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to do that.”

You hummed and tapped your chin pensively. “Hmmm, but you are. You owe me, and you don’t want to be on my naughty list, right?” You grinned, raising a finger to touch his chin, but he dodged it with gritted teeth. He hated that you had something on him, and the heat climbing up his spine only aggravated him further. “Besides, they are committing crimes. It’s high time they got caught, don’t you think?”

“If there’s an ongoing investigation, then you can wait for—”

“Can’t wait,” you dismissed sharply, your eyes becoming narrow. “They have too many fingers in too many pies, and all it takes is one scandal for it all to come crashing down.”

“All?”

“All,” you repeated with a smirk.

“I can’t do that.” Your features hardened, and he hurried to say, “It’s a big conglomerate; thousands will lose their job. Families depend on these jobs, it would cause a social catastrophe.”

“Are you getting sentimental, Chief?”

“These things need to be done carefully,” he continued, ignoring your quip. “My department is investigating them, so with time—”

You huffed a deep breath and rolled your eyes, clearly displeased, and he held his tongue. Part of him was revolting at the hypocrisy of using the justice system to get rid of competition for crimes you probably indulged in as well, but he decided to stay quiet. Maybe that would be the easiest way to catch you — to see what kind of things you had on others and how you acted.

“I may consider an alternative with less social catastrophe,” you grimaced. “If I’m adequately compensated.” He raised an eyebrow as you grabbed the flash drive still in his hand and reached to put it inside his pants pocket. “I was left wanting last time…”

The way his spine tensed and his Adam's apple bobbed was difficult to hide, “You mean…”

You hummed, your hand playing with the edge of his pocket, “I’d hate to be left wanting this time.”

Your low, wanton voice gave him goosebumps, but he cleared his throat, “What’s the alternative?”

“That depends,” you smirked, sneaking your hand into his pocket. “Do we have a deal?”

“What is the alternative?”

His tone was dry, yet you chuckled as your fingers brushed his thigh through the fabric, “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

“I asked you a question.”

“So did I,” you said slowly, looking down. You licked your lips slowly at the view, then grinned and faced him again, “A tent is not an answer, Chief.”

He moved so fast you barely saw it as you blinked; in a split second, your wrist was in his hand, yanked out of his pocket. “I’m waiting.”

“So am I,” you grinned, facing him unabashedly. “I want to hear those pretty lips saying you’ll sit down on that couch and pull your hard cock out for me to use in exchange for the livelihood of all those tiny, insignificant people.” You had a sly smile as you spoke, nearing to nuzzle him, and the way he despised you flashed across his face. His grip tightened to keep you away, and you chuckled, “Thinking of using those handcuffs of yours?”

“You don’t know me,” he grumbled, low in his chest, and you smiled widely.

“I know you’re hard,” you shrugged as though you had already won. You licked your lips, “Is it the thrill again? Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking about—”

He pulled you closer to growl something, but something thin and sharp pressed to his belly, and his breath was caught. 

He looked down as you smirked widely, “No knife this time, this is all you, Chief. At attention,” you dragged your acrylic nail up his stomach slowly, and his eyes followed it, holding your other wrist tightly still. “Must be difficult denying how hard and horny you get from dealing with someone like me, but we don’t have time to waste,” you sighed, biting your lip as you raised your hand to his hair, but stopped before you touched him. 

He tilted his head to get the tension off his neck, subtly looking away to catch a breather. You were putting him in a tight spot again, and this time it was even worse; he should know better.

You straightened up to look him in the eyes, “So the deal. Instead of raiding the whole conglomerate, I’ll give you the address of a hidden gambling house run by a higher-up. That, plus the flash drive, should be enough to dismantle those bastards slowly. Gotta give people the time to come and work for me instead, right?” 

You grinned slyly, unable to read what he was thinking because he didn’t know it himself. You had a good alternative that meant not ruining thousands of lives instantly, and that was all he needed to hear. Right?

Your smile suddenly vanished, and you pulled your wrist close to your chest, forcing him to fall into you a little bit as he held onto you, “But only if I get what I want.”

He eyed you, and you stood at a standstill. He should hate this, explode at you for trying to coerce him, for being a horrible person who didn’t think of the consequences of your petty requests, or how they’d affect the livelihoods of so many people. Yet, instead, he was starting to burn. Something hot was licking at the back of his neck as he strained it, trying to soothe the tension again. His muscles were tightening, ready to jump at a moment's notice; meanwhile, his mind struggled. No, he didn’t want this. You were using him for sex and to handle competition; it was nasty business. It was a way to subdue him and corrupt what he represented. You were vile, and—

“I don’t have all day,” you reminded him, and he blinked. 

You were infuriating, petulant, narcissistic, and he hated that he was even considering it. 

You pulled your wrist out of his hand and gave him a cold look, “Never mind—”

He was on his way to the couch before he realized it. He sat on it, facing you, and you stood still, waiting. Looking at you, he had a moment of lucidity, and his shoulders relaxed. He unzipped his pants as he weighed the consequences of going against you — the head of a powerful criminal organization that would work against him, framing his personnel or himself. His career would surely not reach far, and you’d get what you wanted, one way or another. 

His eyes were still fixed on yours as he pulled his hard dick out, not bothering to even stroke it. He was as hard as can be, so he presented it to you just like you wanted, and just like he wanted. His chest burned as you stepped slowly towards him, and he admitted that of all the ways you had to get what you wanted, he much preferred you used him to get there.

You stopped in front of him, threw your purse on the couch, then kneeled on the floor with so much grace he held his breath. The way you had ensnared him without even touching him should scare him, but he was totally in it.

“Say it,” you demanded, only looking down once before facing him again.

“Use me,” his gruff voice revealed his darkest desire before he could stop himself, but he recognized then that he wouldn’t.

As you got up to your feet and pushed him back so you could straddle him, he acknowledged that he wanted everything. He shouldn’t, but he had no morals at that moment. He didn't care about anyone’s record, crimes, lives, or careers; he cared about nothing. You were on his lap, grasping the hair at the back of his head, forcing him to reveal his neck to you so you could bite, and the groan that came out said it all. He dared to frame your waist above him, and you sighed on his neck, pressing yourself to him. Already, there wasn’t much that could get him to stop, but now he guessed there was nothing. Even if someone dared to interrupt, officer or otherwise, he’d never stop, not before he was inside you, and surely not when he was.

No, he hummed, palming your curves freely as you nibbled on his neck and found your way under his shirt. He’d get his dick inside you and show you all the ways he’d been dreaming of fucking you ever since you last met. Only then, when you had been fucked so thoroughly you’d walk funny, would he bite the head off of whoever dared to interrupt you two.

Hypothetically.

For now, he didn’t have to worry because no one was about to interfere with what you both wanted. Your nails had scratched him to the point he had to grip your flesh in retaliation, or maybe as an incentive. You moved on to bite his ear and the skin right under it, and the way your hips swayed over him drove him insane. No amount of grinding should make him feel this good, and he refused to blow without turning you into a mess first.

His hands on your hips helped you grind your covered cunt harder against his bare dick, and he could tell you liked it because you started moaning quietly. It was a low, dragged sound, almost as if you wanted to hide it, and it riled him up. He wanted you to fall apart, and you wouldn’t be able to stop it.

You surely noticed how keen he was, but your hips kept moving faster. The friction of your underwear on his shaft was burning, but he didn’t care. You were grabbing onto him so tight, your nails were sinking into his scalp and shoulders. You wanted to use him, and he’d show you just how easily you crumbled instead.

But he didn’t expect you to suddenly straighten up and reach between your bodies. He looked at your expression, knitted eyebrows and peeping tongue while you focused, and then he felt it. You rolled your hips a bit, and your eyelashes fluttered at the same time he swallowed a groan and sank his nails into the skin of your hips.

Fuck.

You were holding his dick to your slit, coating him in your slick with every hump of your hips, and he could feel everything. How wet you were, sliding eagerly, especially around your entrance. He tried pushing up to get in, but you didn’t let him, licking your lips spread with a mischievous smile. You were playing with him, and your teasing made him snap his hips, trying to bypass you, but you moved with him, chuckling sensually. His mind was fried then; there was nothing that could ever come close to how delicious you were. How deviant, teasing, wrong, and yet the obsession he didn’t know he could have. 

Was that what it was?

You interrupted his thoughts when you aligned him with you and sank down on him. Your desperate whimper as you did washed his brain clean; all he could do was stare at you with a slack jaw as you indulged in a push and pull, letting his girth stretch you again and again. It was torture, but he enjoyed seeing all your little reactions. The way you bit your lip, panting a little harder with the effort of getting him deeper inside you, fighting your eyes from closing so you could see it happening. He glanced too, but the image of his cock disappearing between your folds, hugged so tightly between your walls, was too risky. He preferred to look at you, pick up on the tells of your pleasure. He particularly liked it when you settled down fully, biting your lip as he poked you inside, tucked to the hilt.

You were hesitant to move, still throbbing around him, so he took your hips and moved them gently. Your reaction was instantaneous, throwing your head back and letting him direct your pleasure as he pleased. It burned inside his chest to see you so vulnerable on his cock, knowing he could do to you whatever he wanted, but he didn’t want to rush things. He absorbed the way you breathed, and your lips twitched with every roll as he guided you. His hands trailed your ass and hips, eager to feel and brand every inch of your flesh, when he noticed the garter in the same place as last time with a knife tucked in it.

He touched the handle, and you chuckled, opening your eyes to look at him, “Scared?”

“No,” he rasped, focused entirely on you, even as his fingers trailed the garter. “You?”

You smiled and leaned into him, “Fuck no.”

He closed his eyes because he thought you’d kiss him, but you only held him tighter and glued your cheeks together. You started rolling your hips faster and panting and moaning into his ear, and he kept his eyes closed. You were using him to get off, and you sounded and felt so fucking divine doing it. He had to fight not to burst too early. Fuck, were you having fun, grinding your clit on him every time the tip of his cock hit that special spot inside you that had you keening. 

He was so focused that he noticed every detail, from the subtle change in the angle of your hips, to the way you pressed your cheek to the side of his face the more you lost control. Eventually, one of your hands moved from his shoulder to the straps of your dress, and then you straightened back up. You were flushed and breathing in quiet moans, showing such a sensual and vulnerable side of you, he was devastated. Still, when you pulled down the dress and revealed your chest, his legs became weak under your swaying hips.

Fuck, how was it that you were so beautiful? Perfectly round breasts trembling gently with every move of yours on his length, searching for pleasure, and he knew he couldn’t remember his own name even if you asked.

Your hand grabbed onto his hair and brought him close, and his mouth instantly latched onto a nipple. You jolted, groaning through clenched teeth, and he fought the urge to press down on your hips harder. He wanted to fuck you so hard, to let go, but at least he had a consolation prize. He licked and teased your perky nipples, brushing the one free from his mouth in tandem, and your reaction was priceless. Hearing you and feeling your nails, he knew he could have pumped you full of cum then, but it was a delight to wait. To notice how urgent your ride became, not just grinding on him but letting your weight fall on him to help his cock reach deep, all while desperately urging him to torture your nipples and tits between his teeth.

He wasn’t surprised when you started shaking despite pressing your legs and arms even harder around him, but he had to think of something else not to come. You moaned and cried while your pleasure came crashing down on you, and on him as well, rhythmically squeezing him inside your tight walls, and it was a lot. It was perfect, fulfilling even though he didn’t even finish, but he stayed resolute while he helped you fuck yourself on him and draw your orgasm out. You said you wanted to use him, and he hoped that included more than just that ride.

You stilled, and he stayed with his face buried in your chest. He kept massaging your ass and hips over him, careful not to force you to move while he licked and nibbled on your sensitive flesh. Just your chest heaving to his face while he inhaled your scent could have thrown his control off, but he waited. Patiently, without ever stopping his touches and kisses.

Eventually, you recovered and pulled on his hair so he’d let go of your abused nipple. You nuzzled his warm forehead before getting back on your feet and walking away from him. He kept his eyes trained on you, and you seemed to wobble a little on your legs, raking your fingers through your long hair until you stopped in front of a mirror. He looked down, noticing how you had left his cock not only glistening, but creamed with your cum, and he shook his head. In that short silence, he thought first that he fucking loved it and wanted you on his dick again, and then he couldn’t take it. This time, he’d grab himself and finish it, regardless of—

“Come here,” you rasped quietly, eyeing him through the mirror. His ears perked up as he looked at you, but he wasn’t sure of what you said. You placed your hands on the edges of the sink, “Come fuck me, Yoongi.”

For a second, he thought he ignited. Like a match to gasoline, your voice sparked and combusted his very blood to the point his synapses stopped working. Then, he got up and approached you slowly. Now that you had asked, there was no rush. It felt inevitable the way he was about to touch you and feel you, like the crash of a wave to the shore, and taming the urge was part of the torture.

He could see the same feeling in your eyes, trained on him through the mirror as he made his way to you, glistening. You were unnaturally still, as if you knew not to move to keep that tension going, and it felt powerful. You weren’t running your mouth, grabbing him, or rushing him. No, you were quite literally still in the position you wanted him to fuck you in and patiently waiting for the treat you knew was coming.

He stopped behind you, looking down at the curve of your body as you arched your back slightly before raising his eyes to the mirror. Not only did your expression give away your desire, with flushed cheeks and your lip tucked gently between your teeth, but your position was vulnerable. You swayed on your legs as though to lure him to come closer, and he did, gluing his crotch to your ass.

Your eyelids dropped as you groaned, rubbing your ass on his erection, and only the sense of control flooding his veins kept him in check. It felt like a reward to see you eager to have his cock inside you again, and he needed it. It was too sweet, he had to observe and take in every little detail of your surrender now that you couldn’t hide. How you squirmed for more of his touch when he palmed your hips, leaning down to help him grab and pull your long dress to the side so he could reach your bare hips. You stopped breathing when he did, leaning even more as though to offer yourself, then gasped a moan when his hand struck your ass.

Your eyes were closed as he held you to him, sliding his glistening dick between your legs as he pulled you to his chest. You fell back into him, melting as he groped your tits harshly, all while snapping his hips. He observed your reactions, hungrily taking everything you gave him with every brush, pinch, or bite. Especially when you tried to tilt your hips so you could feel him better near your core, and he fought you, pressing you firmly, preventing you from getting his cock. He tortured you in other ways, biting and licking up your neck to your ear while he squeezed and rolled your nipples between his deft fingers, and your desperate moans as you squirmed were priceless.

You reached your breaking point and snapped your eyes open, facing him through the mirror with a frustrated harshness that made him smile while he nuzzled your ear. You were about to revert to demanding what you wanted out of sheer sexual frustration, and he loved it. Still, he thought he had given you enough time to recover, so he reached for the elastic of your underwear and slid it down slowly.

It was enough for you to wiggle it down your legs, which forced his arms to press you back into him, pining you in place, and you gushed. He found out he was handling your frenzy marvelously when he reached to feel you and your slick dripped from your heat. He instantly brought his wet fingers to his mouth, and you watched his reflection suck and lick your arousal and cum as if it was a delicacy, and it made you snap.

You squirmed, “Please.”

He finally matched your urgency; he let go of his fingers with a grunt, then grabbed his dick to align himself with you. He had to push you to arch your back so your cunt was easily in front of him, but then he pressed your hips flush to his and you both groaned. Your toes curled, and your face scrunched as you tried moving on his cock, but his hands were claws on your hips, keeping you still. You felt so fucking amazing around him that he twitched inside you, and you whimpered. It was that little sound that broke the dam and let it all overflow.

He snaked an arm up your chest to grab your neck while the other kept you in place to take every snap of his hips into your ass. He nibbled and licked your neck whenever you’d move close enough, and every moan out of your lips only made him want to coax another one. Harder, faster, you drove him fucking insane. He wanted you to fall apart on his cock, cry with how good he was giving it to you, and it was as if you could read his mind. The more you wiggled, the harder his arms pressed you closer. The louder you whimpered, the more he bit you and obsessed over more cries and curses. The more you moved to meet his thrusts, the harder he fucked you, bruising your skin with his fingers and teeth purely out of sheer desire.

“Fuck,” you cried out. “Who knew… you could… fuck like this?”

Something like a growl came from deep in his throat, and he wrapped your hair around his hand, pressing your stomach to the sink in front of you. His hips slowed while you faced him in the mirror, pinned so still you couldn’t see what his other hand was doing until you felt his fingers on your clit.

You jolted against him, and you could almost see the spark in his eyes. “You’re going to come for me.”

You grinned, “Am I—?”

Your voice derailed with him rubbing you softly, contrasting so much with how hard you needed to feel him, it gave you whiplash.

But you couldn’t be quiet; you bit your lip and gazed at him again through the mirror, “Want me to milk your cock, huh?”

You were almost hiccuping, trying to tease him while he played your clit masterfully; meanwhile, his dark eyes on you didn’t give much away. Were you riling him up? Did he want to fuck you senseless now? You wanted him to lose that upright posture and just fuck you like the animal you knew was lurking under all the fucking decorum, but his stupid long fingers keeping the perfect speed on your clit weren’t giving you any chances. You squirmed, but his grip was steel, and it just made you gush around his perfect cock even more. Fuck, you loved the way he grabbed you, handled you, and imposed a high on you despite your best efforts to go against him.

He was so focused, looking at you while he lulled you in the perfect sway of his hips, stretch of his cock, and rub of his fingers. So you smiled at him, “If I come… Will you let go?” His eyebrow twitched. “Will you go fucking wild and use me instead?”

He moved to nuzzle your neck and didn’t answer you. A part of him thought that was not what he was doing, but another knew exactly what that was. You wanted to use him and subdue him, and he’d show you just how easily the tables turned. Would he let go? Would he fuck you senseless? The answer was yes, and he didn’t consider any of it as using you. If you begged to be fucked and creamed his cock while at it, he’d consider it quite simply a lesson you’d never forget. That you’d hopefully want to repeat.

But he never answered you, only increased the reach of his cock inside you while his fingers rubbed you in a stable rhythm. He swayed his hips to drag his shaft across your walls, and saw how you whimpered and tried writhing, unable to deal with the pleasure being enforced on you. But he had been paying attention, so he never had to answer you. Because you wouldn’t have a choice.

You mewled and moaned, feeling a familiar burn in your core and lower stomach that had you tensing unbelievably. As he kept moving, your legs started trembling, and your fingers gripped the cold porcelain sink. He had you in place, and you were so tucked in tight with nowhere to go. You were safe, though, trying to wiggle the intensity both away and closer, until you opened your eyes. There was something about the way he breathed down your neck, looking at you moaning and panting while your tits shook with each breath that got you on a train, and suddenly, you couldn't move back. The tracks were in front of you, yet so was the cliff, and there was no stopping. You tried regaining control, but it slipped away from you, and before you could voice anything at all, you crashed.

You let your head fall back as your loud moans echoed through the walls, giving him goosebumps while he felt your pleasure deeply. Your nails scratched the sink as you swayed your hips to feel him in a particular way, and he closed his eyes, smelling the intimacy in your hair while you disintegrated. But he only gave himself a moment before chasing his own climax because soon you’d be too sensitive and there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to fuck you like you both craved.

He tried to keep his fingers on your clit to help you, but fucking you faster meant losing sight of that. You didn't mind it because you gripped his forearm and whimpered the overstimulation right before you closed your eyes. Your jaw hung open as he picked up the pace and dug his fingers into your hips to keep you in position, and you saw stars. Every time he shoved his cock in, you held your breath, only for a moan to be pushed out of you right before he pulled out. The same push and pull, again and again, all while his fingers tried to tease your clit. 

You couldn’t come so fast again and you wanted to see his crash, so you pulled his hand to the sink for support and arched your back even more, giving him everything you could to help.

The first hint was the quiet groans, then shaking of his head as if he wanted to shake it off and make it last. But you were squeezing his thick cock, meeting his thrusts, and through your brainless moans, eager and hungrily waiting for the moment he’d pop.

And it was divine. Why did a cop look so fucking good busting his nut inside you? Like you were the only cunt in fucking existence worth sticking his cock into? You knew you were, but still, it gave you such a fucking high, you could barely believe it.

His face scrunched as he grunted and pumped himself empty inside you, and you bit your lip, adoring every second. It was twisted but felt and looked so good you could only think it was a shame there was a party you needed to attend a few rooms away.

He opened his eyes to find you looking at him like he was a snack, and it jolted him awake a little. He looked down at your ass pressed to his crotch and sighed to himself. 

Fuck it. 

He didn’t let any thoughts interrupt the high he was in right now, and only when you moved did he move also so he could help you. He let your hips go gently so you could stand comfortably without pressing into the sink, then reached for paper towels to clean you, but staggered. What was he doing? You were still winded, slowly recovering as his cum trickled down your thighs. His cum. From fucking you—

He put the paper towels in front of you and walked back, grabbing more so he could clean himself up, too. He needed distance; he must have been out of his damned mind to do that.  

The hairs at the back of his neck were standing as the disgust made its way up his neck. He shuddered and threw the scrunched paper vaguely in the direction of a trash can, and only then faced you. You were on the couch with a cigarette in your mouth, smoking placidly. He couldn’t help but bite his lower lip at the sight, and then chastised himself. He should have brought some nicotine gum with him.

“Get me something to write,” you said quietly, before taking a long drag. 

“What?”

You had caught him by surprise, yet you sighed the smoke out with exasperation, “To write the address.”

He frowned at first, what the hell were you on about? But your dry, unbothered look was enough to tell him that you'd soon get up, fix your dress, and go back to your distasteful self. He preferred to have the address. 

Fortunately, he remembered the items behind you on the counter and quickly grabbed something that resembled a pencil. 

You tucked the cigarette between your lips before pulling the eyeliner from his hand. Then, you grabbed his wrist and forcibly pulled his sleeve back. He grunted in annoyance, but you ignored him and scribbled something on his wrist.

Then you let him go and threw the pencil on another couch before leaning back and heaving a seemingly endless drag of smoke in his direction. He raised his eyebrow, unimpressed, and your eyebrows twitched, “Don't go rubbing your wrist too hard, now. Can't risk all those poor souls.”

Your sneer made him roll his eyes, and he didn't answer or acknowledge you. He simply pulled his sleeve to cover your marks carefully and walked out the door.

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 3

“It's not the price of anything or a deal. Just let me eat you out again.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi needs you again, and you strike a deal. This time, you don't ask for any favors, though. Now what?

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: corruption, power dynamics, mentions of crimes, guns, knifes, semi-public sex, fingering, oral (f rec), masturbation (both), caught having sex, unprotected sex, switching, bratty, hate sex...

A.N. Ignore the excuse for steamy hot sex... Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for working through my crazy and being incredible! Enjoy 🔥🔥

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

Yoongi threw the package of gum across the desk, ignoring it when it fell to the floor of his office. It was empty, again, and his fingers were twitching with how much he needed a fix. He huffed; as if quitting smoking fucking mattered.

His last promotion so many months back had not come without its challenges. His bosses knew how difficult his cases were, but after he saved Officer Jimin, they chose him for the job. He heaved a deep breath and pressed his eyes beneath his eyeglasses; the problem was that he wasn't the one who actually fixed it then, and he didn't have a way to fix things now.

He thought about you more often than he'd care to admit. Initially, he thought you had infected him. How else was it that he thought of you for no reason, got boners at random times just remembering something about you, or couldn't jerk off without thinking of you?

It was all because he was lust-crazed the last time you were together. He shouldn't have succumbed to it and given you what you wanted, but he was thinking with his dick. That was it. He didn't know he could act like that, but he guessed you did that to him. So he shouldn’t have been intimate with you or let it get to his fucking head, let alone have your name written across his cock for months for no reason. He was an idiot, but no one else got him going. And so he had given you everything you wanted.

He held his end of the deal once he checked the address you gave him. It was easy to get a warrant since witnesses were placing key directors of the conglomerate in that area, and in a second, everything had gone down. Like wildfire spreading, the amount of incriminating evidence found in that gambling house was still turning heads months later. It was a win for the department, a success with the public, and it affected a long chain of people in power, from managers to politicians. Once again, Yoongi was seen as the face of justice, and he was left uneasy about it.

He had used the flash drive well, but first, he asked his team to investigate its contents. He was done with being your puppet; you were as bad as the people you were helping put away. How the hell had you gotten that info? You had a reputation regarding information, but still. What did you know? And how did you know it?

Unfortunately, he couldn't find anything. All he had were suspicions and gut feelings, but that wasn't much of a case. Still, he'd get to the bottom of it. He'd find your dirty little secrets, and not because he wanted to have something on you like you had on him. Not because he wanted to blackmail you, but to level the playing field.

The problem was that he needed you again. He handled his cases fairly well, but a drug operation had just gone south. The undercover agent who infiltrated to bust the biggest net of distribution in Seoul had just died in a shootout, and they couldn't even recover the body because the dealers took him with them. The family needed to be informed, and without their son to bury, it was bound to be a huge problem. It didn't matter that Yoongi took over the operation a couple of months ago; his head would roll, and he wouldn't be able to bring peace to the lost agent or his family. He sighed and pressed his eyes; his failure he could handle, but not leaving the grieving family like this.

So he got up, left his office, and crossed the parking lot to his car. He worked at a more prominent building now, but the road was the same one as he drove to Aether. He couldn't think of anyone else who could help, and you had always come through. Maybe you knew where his body was or how to get to him, or any other information that could help. It didn't hurt to try, even for a price.

The sly smiles you gave him popped into his mind, but he stayed focused. That wouldn't happen again, and this was bigger than him. This was about doing the right thing again, and you'd surely understand.

He was surprised when the security at the Aether recognized him and instantly let him in without checking him. As he followed a member of the club's staff down a familiar path, he considered that he had only been there once, so that had to be your doing.

Before he could think further about it, he was stepping into your office with the door closing behind him. You were wearing a white shirt with a couple of buttons open and had your hair up in a messy bun, sitting at your desk working at your computer as if you had a simple office job. You stayed focused, typing whatever you needed before waving for him to take a seat. His eyes traced every detail of your focused expression. You looked healthy and glowing, focused on your work, and he wondered if things were working out for you.

“My, you look stiff, Chief,” you commented, taking a glance at him before wrapping up whatever was taking your full attention from him. Your smile had a hint of mischief, and it was a relief. “In need of a drink? Must be, after the whole drug mess and agent down ordeal.”

His shoulders softened, “I need your help.”

You straightened your shoulders, “Why would I help you?”

“Because there must be something you want.”

Silence stretched between you as you both just eyed each other. Neither one gave away what was running through your minds, and he decided to wait quietly. He could overthink this — excuse himself for calling you greedy and/or letting you think he meant it sexually — or wait for your spirited self to run the show.

He was certain about waiting, thus having time to adjust to you, and yet you scrunched your nose slightly and looked away when a notification popped up on the screen. It made him feel uneasy in your presence for the first time, and he decided to change his approach. He was coming to you for help; the least he could do was make it interesting for you, too.

“I thought it could be in your interest as well,” he restarted, sitting comfortably. “They're stepping into your territory, no?”

“I'm not in the drug market.”

“But you want to be.”

His heart started racing, and he cursed you in his mind. Did you want him to chase you? To plead and beg like before? Did you have to look so effortlessly breathtaking doing it?

The corners of your lips twitched, and it was the only hint of the familiar mischievousness he was used to. You stayed quiet as you considered things, even eying the paperwork on your desk in front of you for a moment.

He wondered if he should say something else when you finally said, “If I help you bust their network and get your agent, you'll let me take some of their product.”

He pursed his lips, “If I bust them, I'll already be helping you with a competitor.”

“But without immediate product, I won't be able to control the market and distribute it safely,” you shrugged, and he was mesmerized. You were doing business, and he shouldn't be that entranced, but he was. “Trust me, that's the only right way of doing it. Otherwise, the small fries will start selling bad products and have people sick and overdosing on your streets.”

He knew his answer but insisted anyway, “And my agent?”

“He's been moved to one of their warehouses where coincidentally they have their ‘clinic’,” you used your fingers to quote, then pressed your lips. “They'll dump him somewhere soon.”

He nodded. That was one of his fears. They needed to get rid of the body so as not to be incriminated, and he needed to get to him before they did something irreversible.

“What can you do?”

You hummed, “Addresses and names. But we'll need to coordinate when you raid them so some products can slip through the cracks. Except for that particular warehouse, you should go there as soon as possible.” 

“We have a deal.”

You reached for a sticky note and scribbled before giving it to him. “I can arrange for people to support your operation quietly in a couple of hours.”

He caught the sticky note, rolling it in his fingers. “I can't do it that quickly.”

You nodded and asked for the paper again, then added something under it before returning it. “My private number. Use a burner and let me know.”

He took the note and looked at it nonchalantly, but his teeth still nipped his bottom lip. Why was he getting that excited? It wasn't a date. It meant absolutely nothing. And yet, he felt giddy when he looked at you getting back to your paperwork. He wanted to jump from the chair and—

“Was there anything else?”

You asked, looking up from the documents as though you were surprised he was still there.

He pressed his lips, “Just… We made a deal.”

“Yes.”

“And I guess I didn't leave you wanting like last time.”

You sat back and gave him your full attention again, though your typical mischief was nowhere to be found.

“Are you trying to say you expected a sexual favor?”

“Yes.”

You scoffed, “Well then, shouldn't you be happy there isn't one?”

He didn't respond and just evaluated your reaction. Were you upset with him? Why weren't you teasing him relentlessly for even bringing it up? Were you no longer interested? But then, why did you sound just a little bit annoyed? Was he reading into it too much, or could he just already read you?

He got up and put the paper inside his jacket pocket before taking it off and leaving it on the chair. You observed him and straightened even more against your office chair when he circled the desk to get to you.

“I didn't request anything,” you reiterated.

“I know,” he answered calmly, turning your chair to him.

“I'm not threatening you either,” you added, your eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion.

He looked down at where he knew your knife would be and nodded, “You're not.”

You looked up at him, almost flabbergasted, “So what is it? Or do you just want to hear praise or something—”

“Thought you'd tease me about it,” he admitted, then moved to his knees because standing and forcing you to look up didn't seem natural.

You pressed your lips, “There's nothing to tease. You gave me exactly what I asked for.”

From that angle, you looked even more powerful, almost majestic. His brain was really wired wrong because instead of happily leaving through the door, he wanted to touch you.

But he wouldn't until he understood, “And there's nothing else you want?”

“There is,” you didn't hesitate, almost making him smile. But he didn't because you didn't seem at ease.

“Then ask.”

“There's no need.”

“And if I want you to?”

“Why would you want that?”

Your suspicion was plain in your light frown, and he took a moment to think it over, “Because we should celebrate. We're doing something good.”

You tilted your head, “We're saving your ass.”

He rolled his eyes; it wasn't just that, and you knew it. “And that's also a good thing. So let's enjoy it.”

“You’re already going to pay me for—”

“It's not the price of anything or a deal. Just let me eat you out again.”

Your eyes widened, “What?” 

Your stupefied look wasn’t enough for him to back down nor to think closely about what he was doing. He looked down at your legs, covered above the knee by a raised skirt with golden floral patterns. Every ticking second increased his eagerness, no matter how patient and composed he seemed. He could already see his long fingers indenting the flesh of your thighs, and he could almost remember the exact scent between them, too; it made him dizzy with want.

“You just…” You started, tilting your head slightly again, drawing his eyes up. “Want to give me head… to celebrate?”

He hummed, licking his lips subconsciously, and you blinked. It took you a second, but a crooked smile pulled your lips, and you spread your legs. You exuded a snobbish nonchalance that almost annoyed him. Still, there was a clear invitation in your actions that he prioritized over anything that could stop him from getting what he wanted.

His fingers gripped your outer thighs gently as he moved in, nuzzling your soft skin with a deep breath. He could have forgotten why he wanted to be that close in the months that passed, but taking in your sweet scent, he chose to forget everything else instead. The fact that he shouldn’t do this, that he didn’t have to, the cameras, the time and place; none of it mattered. There was no use in letting the disgust or frustration disrupt the moment he’d finally attained what he had fantasized about for so long. His teeth and tongue teased you gently, earning your hand in his hair, and he sighed, relaxed. Just for a little while, he’d admit he wanted it and grasp it all.

Still, he moved slowly, or as slowly as he could in his urge. His deft fingers dragged the hem of your skirt slowly back while he feasted on the sight being revealed, an inch at a time. His tongue kept circling over your sensitive skin, yearning for what he knew would soon be unveiled, and your deepening breath only made his hunger stronger. Your nails were grazing the back of his head, massaging his scalp in waves as if you wanted to pull him closer and urge him to move faster. He could only agree with you, but there was a sweet torture in making you both long for it.

“Is it the humiliation, Chief?”

Your voice was a wanton breath that had him sinking his teeth just a little more while he finally revealed what was under your skirt.

“No,” he murmured back, voice taken. 

Why were you not wearing any underwear? He could have asked, but the question slipped from his mind. One second he was taking in the view of your glistening slit, juicy just for him with barely a touch; the next, he was jumping forward, springing on his heels to press his face to your core as hard as he could to taste you.

His tongue darted out, spreading over your lips to open them, tasting and collecting as much of your wetness as possible, and you moaned. He heard it; you didn’t mean to, but you wiggled on your chair to give him better access and intensify those sensations, melting you, releasing even more of you for him to taste.

He could have made you work for it, but he was thirsty and, like a junkie, addicted. Every drop made him forget himself and crave the next, and when it came, it reminded him why he wanted it all to begin with. You were a force of nature, reacting to him like the perfect storm — quaking above him, breathing heavily with your voice etched quietly to the little wheezes, trembling with your legs firm around his head. He sighed, nuzzling your clit greedily. After longing for you for months, your taste had finally invaded his mouth, and along with your scent, he was drowning. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips — he had reached paradise.

Your thighs clenched around his head, and he tried to prevent you from pushing him away by holding onto you tighter, but the arms of your office chair were making things difficult.

He was displeased but had to move away and breathe, “Stay still.”

“Yoongi…”

Your voice was broken, and your flushed, desperate expression twisted his guts unexpectedly. In a second, he rose to his feet and grabbed your arms, yanking you to stand up before dragging you with him. You didn’t offer resistance, pliable to him, just like last time. 

He placed you in front of the smoked glass overseeing the dance floor of Aether just below, and you extended your arms to support yourself on it. Instantly, his lips latched onto the back of your neck, right under your messy bun. Your moan gave him goosebumps, and he didn’t stop, tracing your curves with big, open hands while suckling your skin. 

You drove him crazy. Last time, you were sitting above him, pleasuring yourself on his face like you owned him, and now, you were letting him position you and touch you to his heart’s content. He wanted to get on his knees so you’d grind on his face, but he also craved leading you to the state you were in right now, at your utmost vulnerability, letting him do as he pleased.

But all he wanted to do was get more. Like an alcoholic downing a drink after a long drought, he craved more of you with every inch he touched, whiff he took, and flavor he swallowed. Even with you vulnerable in his arms like that, he didn’t want to subdue you or take advantage — quite the opposite.

He kneeled and moved to slot himself between your parted legs and the glass. He yanked the skirt back up to have unrestrained access before licking and biting your mound while his fingers traced a slow, maddening trail up your legs. You groaned above him, and he was lost again, needing more of your voice just like that.

He gripped your ass, pulling you flush to his face with his lips brushing your clit. You jolted, searching for something more than a fleeting touch, and he groaned. The more you gave him, the more he wanted; there was no holding back.

“Look,” he whispered, looking up at you. Your open lips, graciously letting your quiet whimpers out, trembled, and he nuzzled your bikini line. Your scent intensified his crazed desire, but he insisted, “Look at them.”

You did, as one hand of his kept you in place, grabbing your ass cheek, and the other disappeared between your legs. He observed you, taking in how you gasped when his digits sunk inside, widening your eyes at the unsuspecting crowd. It set his nerve endings on fire the way you whimpered softly above him while your slick slid down his fingers as he pressed inside your velvet flesh. It was why he needed more, coaxing you with his hooked fingers to see where he could take you.

Your whimpers became inconsistent, and not even a thumb rubbing your clit made you fall into the rhythm. On the contrary, you kept tightening, moaning, and yet he could sense the note of annoyance in your tone. His eyes and mouth were on you, licking the soft spot where your leg met your mound, and he wondered what more could you possibly want. 

He knew you were close; he had obsessed over the little signs of your peak, and he was seeing them now: your lip tucked between your teeth as you fought rolling your head back while moans slipped from your throat. And yet, you weren’t letting it happen. Why?

The answer came when you grasped his hair between your fingers and pulled him to the right spot. You forced him there while you humped his face, pressing his head to the glass, and a smile crept on his face. Your moans became desperate as you viciously chased your climax on his mouth, and the euphoria lit his head like fireworks. He didn’t know why, but you taking what you wanted from him was so fucking hot, his hard cock was aching inside his pants.

It didn’t take long for you to find the perfect friction, and he helped by suckling. The moment your clit slotted between his lips and he sucked hard, you tried to move but it was too late. He heard it in the pitch of your moan, the way you cowered over him against the glass, and the faint grind as you trembled against his mouth. You were heavenly— like a godsent delicacy, your orgasm only accentuated your taste, your divinity, and like a fool, he couldn’t resist.

You pulled away. He knew that moment would come, and perhaps that was why his tongue had been restless. Even during your aftershocks, he still searched for more, licking your cum off your swollen lips like an opportunistic slob. Yet, he relented when you moved back and stayed kneeling to give you space, removing only his head from the glass. 

His dick was throbbing in his pants, crying for attention and relief, but his mind was somewhere else. His hungry eyes stayed on you as he wiped his chin, and you composed yourself. He had what he wanted. Of course, he’d have more if he could, but a part of him expected you to tell him to leave now that you were satiated. It would both anger him and amuse him if it were the case, so he was anticipating what would happen next.

“Sit down.”

He almost jolted, confused. He was already kneeling—

“Sit,” you insisted more firmly, pointing at your office chair.

You walked over and perched yourself on the desk, facing the chair between you two, and suddenly, he thought that maybe it wasn’t over yet. He got up and did as you asked, spreading his legs to accommodate his hard dick. It wasn’t a hint. He wasn’t able to think that far. All he could do was look at you, already so tranquil, when he wanted to mess you up all over again.

“Pull your dick out.”

He burned from the inside out, taking seconds to comply with a muted eagerness. He remembered you saying that last time all too well, and the thought of you using him again got him so excited his fingers were shaking.

“Grab it,” you said, and he did, fighting to keep his eyes open to look at you. 

You were observing every move of his long fingers, and you surely didn’t miss how his cock was weeping. Your tongue peeked out between your lips as he spread it over the tip, and the sight was enough for him to release more. His balls tensed, still tucked tight inside his pants as his whole body screamed for release. Wouldn’t you put him out of his misery?

“Show me,” you demanded, licking your lips, and he almost groaned. His plea must have been clear in his eyes because you bit your lip. “Show me how you work your cock.”

His palm moved down his length, and he shook his head. He needed to feel you, to touch you, to have you on his lap, moaning with every plunge of his hard cock inside you, and yet you changed everything. You just had to ask for something, and he instantly did it, like a puppet entranced by your charms. Not even the principles he upheld withstood; there was only them or you, and you were undeniable.

Doing what you asked had its dangers, but having your full attention was worth it. Your dark eyes were boring into his, drinking the sight of him fisting himself on your chair like you were equally hypnotized. Fortunately for Yoongi, jerking off meant controlling how soon he’d blow, and he could edge himself all night if it meant having the chance of you riding him.

He didn’t count on you opening your shirt slowly, pushing each button through its eyelet, working your way from top to bottom as though the fabric bothered you. But the more you revealed, the harder it was to stay put. Your unblemished skin looked appetizing, smooth, begging to be licked, bitten, shown the meaning of want. Your breasts, tucked inside your bra, looked too constrained for his taste. He knew what your round breasts looked and tasted like, and he was on the verge of begging for the chance to touch them. He could drive you crazy, he wanted to, and—

He held his breath and slowed his hand, taking you in like a mirage. You squeezed your tits over the bra, moaning under your breath before those same hands moved lower to pull your skirt up. Your legs spread, and he almost jumped, the sight of your slick dripping ever so slightly a pure taunt that he wanted to follow through. But your hand moved down to rub your clit, and he groaned. 

You were driving him fucking insane. He could have pumped his cock a bit harder and come, but why the fuck would he when your wet heat was right there? He wanted it, and you, and your tantalizing scent and sensual moans, and—

It was so subtle he almost missed it. While one hand worked your clit and another had fun gripping your chest, your head fell back to breathe heavily, and your feet dangled in his direction before settling. It might have been nothing, but he didn’t need much; he rolled the chair forward slowly, almost imperceptibly. When he was close, he reached his free hand to brush your shin, and you let him. You raised your foot to his lap, and it was all he needed to hold onto you.

He grabbed your leg, tracing it up to settle it, and soon did the same to the other. Then, he didn’t know what happened, only that he was hungry. He touched up your leg, feeling your outer thigh and leaning forward in doing so. This prompted you to breathe heavily and lean into him too, reaching for his head in a familiar motion that had him jumping at the opportunity to finally lick your chest.

You supported the back of his head as he buried his face between your tits, licking and nibbling your flesh mindlessly. Your bra was in the way, so he pulled it down bluntly to access your nipples, and you whimpered. Your breathing was ragged as he suckled, refusing to stop his bites even when you pulled on his hair.

His hand was hitting yours with each pump around his cock, but it only riled him up more. You weren’t stopping, as crazed as him with all that lust. This certainty relaxed him, and when you pulled his head again, he let you guide it.

He found your neck and sucked viciously, groaning into it and trying not to come. You had a scent to you, which mixed with every sweet whimper, made it hard to not find a way to shove himself deep into your embrace. Instead, he focused on kissing and nuzzling up your jaw, and you whimpered, grabbing the hair at the back of his head, but not to turn him away.

You pulled him closer, and his lips grazed the corner of your mouth. He slowed, tentatively leaning to reach the same spot, and you left him despite your hold on him. He nuzzled your cheek and tried again, and you almost met his mouth, and it was the breaking point. You lost your patience and pulled him in to crash your mouths together, pushing your tongue between his lips to create a wild struggle.

Kissing you was everything he thought it was — feral, spicy, dangerous, and sweet. Your tongue was aggressive, mapping his mouth like you owned him, and fighting you back was addictive. He matched you with savage licks, pressing himself hard to you until you needed both hands to grab him close, and so did he.

He grabbed your hair between his fingers, keeping you locked in his kiss, while the other pulled you flush to him. You were breathless but unrelenting, and he shared in that hunger, licking and nipping your lip at the slightest chance. 

Your legs wrapped around him, and his cock brushed your core, reminding you there was a way to make it all derail, and you took it. You felt the gun on his shoulder holster pressing to your inner thigh, but it only made you throb and want it harder. He had felt the knife on your garter and had left it there, too. You could use it, and that was part of the thrill. He could use it too, or his gun, or his beautiful long fingers around your neck, and you gushed between your legs. 

You scrambled between savage kisses to grab his cock and aim it straight at your core, and he tried getting rid of his pants. Yoongi could do all that, but he wouldn’t, and the power it gave you was inebriating. He was also an agent of the law, someone you despised on principle, which made the way he fucked you so much sweeter. Like two polar opposites, you were drawn to be filled by his cock and use your nails on the back of his neck and shoulders to press him to you.

He groaned into your mouth, opening his eyes to see the way your face scrunched up in pleasure. He’d never admit it, but it was enough to drive him to his knees. You were beautiful but looked preciously delicate when the pleasure he gave you loosened all the control you had.

He snapped his hips to push himself further, and you groaned, grabbing his ass cheeks. You were lost as he moved, letting your mouth hang open as he kissed you all over your face and jaw. He also needed to get used to your tight walls challenging his control.

But once he did, he grabbed your hair and pulled it, forcing your chin to raise and your eyes to meet. You clenched around him, and it was the last straw.

“I’ll show you,” he grunted before supporting a hand on your lower back.

It was all he needed to start fucking you without a preamble, and you closed your eyes and let him take over. His grip on you as he pounded into you gave you the liberty to let go and just feel him. He groaned near your ear as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and it was enough to melt you, reveling in the way he used you so well. You didn’t know how a cop could fuck this fucking good, but—

“Boss! You need to—”

“Out!” You shouted, trying to look back at whoever dared to enter your office without fucking knocking, so you knew who to mess up after this. Yoongi hid further in your neck, but he didn’t stop, thank fuck. “Get the fuck out!”

Whoever it was slammed the door closed quickly, and you almost lost your shit. The fucking audacity—

“Nuh-uh,” the grip in your hair forced you to meet his eyes, your fire facing the cool in his dark eyes. “I’m fucking you right now.”

You clenched around him, and a squeeze of his hand around the back of your neck pulled you down to earth. He felt good, too good. Maybe that was why you were on edge, ready to explode in every direction.

He wanted your focus completely on him, and you melting into him wasn’t enough. He released your neck and slid his hand between your bodies, leaning back to change his angle so he could rub your clit, and you jolted. You peered at him between hooded eyes, only to let your head fall back with a deep groan.

He chuckled as you leaned back to take him deeper, trembling with how good it felt. He loved that look on your face.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his grip on your hip so hard, his fingers dug divots into your skin. “So fucked out.”

You looked down and moaned breathlessly, and he could relate. His shaft was glistening, disappearing inside you in a blur as he pistoned into you, and he almost lost composure.

“You’re creaming my cock,” he taunted, slowing down and seeing how you bit your lip and wishing it was him instead. “So fucking greedy.”

“Shut up, you’re one to talk,” your voice wavered, and he laughed. You were upset because his hips slowed, but his fingers circling your clit didn’t. He could see the way you breathed was ragged, an inch away from your climax, and it was the power trip he was looking for.

He smirked, “You’re right, I’m greedy.”

He reached your arms to pull them around his neck, then held your waist down before jump-starting things again. Your legs wrapped around him, and the moans instantly poured from your lips when he began rutting into you again. You could feel it in all the right spots, especially when your clit ground on him with every thrust. The speed was intoxicating, but it wasn’t the most important. Yoongi deserved a medal for managing to stuff you with his cock while humping your clit consistently. At the lack of one, you tried to kiss him, and he bit you. You whimpered, licking your lip to check for blood while he effectively crushed you to him so he could fuck you senseless.

You couldn’t explain it, but it was all you needed — consistency, an anchor, and the fucking duality of that cop drilling you to oblivion. Finally, when your orgasm sparked, you sank your nails into his shoulders and screamed, and he only embraced you tighter, as if holding onto you. Him grounding you only accelerated your climax; you were like the fuse of a firework, consumed in a split second.

You writhed in his arms as the height of pleasure shook you, but he pressed you down on his cock as if to feel every throb around him. His groan followed closely after, adding a second pulse deep inside you to your clenching. You stopped breathing so you could feel it and hear him, hooked on everything. His damp skin under your lips, his chest heaving against yours, his fingers indenting the flesh of your ass — every sensation contributed to an afterglow that was more sparkly.

So when he pulled back to look at you, with flushed cheeks, disgruntled hair, and the absolutely most exquisite face you had ever seen, you laughed. 

He wasn’t bothered and stayed still while you threw your head back and let the laughter shake your shoulders, “We probably fucked up all my paperwork.”

He looked down and noticed the papers under your ass. Considering how wet you were and how he had just pumped you full of cum, it was safe to say you were right.

“I’ll help you,” he said before he could think, pulling away. 

You groaned quietly, then jumped to your feet, unbothered by the way you were so close, there was barely any air between you two. “Don’t worry, take your time.”

You walked away and composed your clothes and hair casually as he tucked his dick back inside his pants with his eyes trained on you.

“I need to handle whatever that was,” you said, pointing at the door. Then, with a crooked smile, you tapped his jacket on the chair and said, “Don’t forget your jacket.”

You left without as much as a wave, and he heaved a deep breath. There you went again—

He glanced down and recognized a name on one of your papers. He made sure you weren’t at the door, then took a closer look, and his breath caught.

iconic entrances for @raplinenthusiasts

day 291/547 until joon returns

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 4

“Justice just never sleeps.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi makes a decision and gives up on the nicotine gum.

WORD COUNT: 6.8k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: corruption, explosions, fire, blood, threats, arguing, handjob, blowjob, riding

A.N. It's so hard to pick a favorite part, but I think this one might be it... Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai for helping me around the clock and being an incredible beta! Enjoy 🔥🔥

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

Yoongi sighed as he made his way inside his office, dismissing his secretary when she tried to pass him a pile of files waiting for his review. It was the end of another exhausting Friday, and although he appreciated her commitment, she should have long gone home to her family instead of wasting time on this.

Closing the door behind him, he started a sequence of ceremonial steps: he took off his coat and hung it up, loosened his tie, grabbed more nicotine gum from his drawer, and then sat down, chewing it with a long sigh. The wall behind him had his many decorations, including the latest that landed him there.

Working with you was seamless and smooth, and justice was swiftly served. Not only was he able to recover the agent’s body and bring him home with honors, but the dismantling of the whole operation was a huge success. It gave him honors, medals, a ceremony with Seoul’s Mayor, and lastly, a promotion he didn’t even want. 

He heaved a deep breath; he couldn’t say he loved being Superintendent General. He preferred to be hands-on with the cases he and his team worked on, but he had moved too far up: he made decisions, but was too high in rank to see any of them carried out. He had more responsibilities and dreadful meetings that were more about competition between police agencies and politics than what actually mattered. And so for months, he’d been tolerating the bullcrap from all ends — from fellow Superintendent Generals and their chiefs from all over the country, including his boss, politicians, and Senior Superintendents complaining about the workload and the lack of resources as if he wasn’t in that position himself just months prior. It was exhausting and slow, and he kept asking himself what was the point.

But just like any other night, his ritual wasn’t complete if he didn’t open his locked drawer and pulled out a file with your name. Despite being frustrated and sometimes disgusted by the people in positions of power with so little consideration for the workforce or the people they served, there was nothing he could do. Instead, every night, he stared at your file and asked himself what he should do.

That night was engraved into his brain: you made a deal, he relapsed and asked you to let him eat you out, then proceeded to get so lost in you, that he didn’t even recognize himself. But then, you left him alone in your office, and that was when he saw those files.

He had managed to take photos of a few of them before leaving and had since printed them and worked on them. So he knew what they contained – details of money laundering. They depicted monumental amounts, to the likes that he was surprised even existed, but maybe he was just too naive. There were mostly coded names on those files, so he knew you were handling it for others and not just for yourself. It probably ran much deeper than a few bars or the drugs you were now distributing, safely, like you promised.

And that was the issue, wasn’t it? He groaned with himself, settling his face inside his hands. He used to see things as black and white, but the more time passed, the more he realized there was no such thing. Politicians, among other officials, ran the show, and he knew things were happening behind closed doors. You were as bad if not worse than the people you had helped him put away, but you kept your word: you gave him evidence to exonerate Officer Jimin, an alternative to bring the Klysa conglomerate down without ruining the lives of thousands of people, and gave him the address where he could find the agent’s body, not to mention crucial names that once picked, dismantled the net of dealers quite nicely.

So why was he after you? Were you the lesser evil? Were those exceptions to your usual criminal and selfish deeds? Or were you just deceiving him by pretending to play nice?

He didn’t know how you knew so much, but now he knew you laundered money, and he had evidence. Evidence he couldn’t use without disclosing how close he had gotten to you and risking discrediting himself. Evidence that could get him a warrant, even under heavy scrutiny. He could try to bring you down, even if it meant letting his career implode. His former self would have, but now he was hesitating, convincing himself every night that he should pursue this. If those documents existed, then his instincts about you were right all along and other evidence was out there, too. It was just business; you would throw him under the bus if it suited you, too. Right?

He heaved a deep breath and closed the file, deciding to bring it home and muse over it there this time around. The office was empty, and it was a lonesome way until he reached his car in the underground parking lot. He hated not seeing the liveliness of a police station anymore, but that was where he was now.

His phone rang through the car speakers as he drove, and he picked it up at the second beep, “What’s wrong?”

Something had to be for Officer Jung to call him at 1 AM.

“Remember the one you wanted me to keep an eye on?” 

Yoongi hummed as he maneuvered the car at an intersection; he was lucky with every detective and officer he had had the pleasure of working with.

“Just got the code for an explosion and fire at a restaurant downtown that she owns. First responders are on their way. Apparently, she was in the building.”

“Which one?”

His grip stiffened around the steering wheel and in seconds, he was doing a U-turn under the streetlights. There was little on his mind as he drove way past the speed limit, cutting corners and passing cars to get there as quickly as he could.

He stopped his car next to the police barricade and got out with a shudder down his spine. Una mordidita was famous around those parts; it was the best Mexican restaurant, and it was always booked. The building itself was dedicated to the concept, and he knew the different floors could host multiple types of events. 

Yet now, it wasn’t the center of influencer buzz or a ballroom dancing event, but of chaos. Firefighters were trying to get the flames under control as even the red neon sign above the building got charred by the smoke escaping the windows. The white walls were losing their shine, and the wood decorations giving it a more Latin-American vibe had surely seen better days.

The chaos of shouts, siren lights, and people wanting to see what was happening didn’t disturb him; he had worked through similar occurrences, so he understood the professionals’ logic through the disorder. What got him running towards the Firefighter Captain handling the occurrence was something else entirely.

He smacked the Captain’s shoulder and didn’t even let him recover from the shock of seeing Yoongi there. “Is everyone out?”

The Captain regained his bearings swiftly, “Working on it.”

Yoongi knew better than to overstep, but he was unsettled. He turned to the entrance of the restaurant, where people were running down the stairs, accompanied by firefighters. He didn’t recognize a single one, and so he turned to the captain again with a stiffness in his shoulders, “You need to—”

A loud female voice shouted, and he spun to look again. The Captain’s frown was entirely lost on Yoongi when he saw you almost being dragged out of the restaurant and down the stairs by two firefighters. His feet instantly took him to you, finally allowing him to hear what you were saying.

“Un-fucking-believable!! You let it spread to the third floor?! What the fuck are you all doing?! Let me go and do your job!!”

He met you at the bottom of the stairs, noticing your bruises, cuts, and blood dripping down your temple. Your embroidery anglaise white dress fit your curves in what would have been a dreamy view if it wasn’t stained with black and red spots, letting see how you had scrapped your knees too. You were busy trying to get the firefighters to get their hands off, but they couldn’t let you go until you calmed down.

You were frantic, so you only noticed Yoongi when his hands settled on your shoulders and he spun you to face him. Your voice finally vanished as your eyes widened; finally, he could see you were shaken up under all that fierceness.

“Are you hurt?”

His tone was firm, to the point, but you squirmed, “I have to—”

“Are you hurt?” He repeated, not letting you get away.

“I’m fine!”

You tried to turn around, but he didn’t let you. He wrapped an arm around you, signaling the firefighters that he had you, then dragged you away. You squirmed and hit his chest, clawing at his arm and demanding he set you free, but he ignored you.

You thought you’d gouge his eyes out in frustration, but suddenly, he forced you to sit on a street bench across the street. He kneeled before you, but your eyes flew beyond him to the restaurant. The fire, the smoke, the people, the firefighters, and even the wreck at the back that you couldn’t see from there. The explosion had been in the kitchen, surely. You knew before any reports because that’s where you’d do it if you wanted to send a message. Easily passable as an accident, but strong enough to cause all that chaos. You ground your teeth, vexed to your core, and sprang back up. The more those idiots wasted time with—

“Sit down.”

Yoongi’s tone was incontestable as he grabbed your arms and forced you back down, and this time you faced him. He was like an apparition, crouched in front of you with his dark hair, sharp eyes, and composed demeanor that always rattled you so much. He was a sight for sore eyes, and it confused you.

“How are you here?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Did you know about this?!” You asked furiously, your anger fueled by the possibility.

But he was impassive, “Are you hurt?”

“Answer the question!”

“You’re in shock, and I need you to calm down.”

“I am fucking calm!” You roared in his face, almost jumping away. “My restaurant just fucking exploded and is on fire, don’t you fucking talk down to me!”

“I know, so calm down.”

His monotone voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

“I’m fucking calm! I need—”

He gripped your wrist and raised it before your eyes, and you jolted; your fist was shaking.

The anxiety crept up on you, and you sobbed under your breath, instantly looking at him in confusion. You were angry, ready to blow on everyone and everything, but suddenly you wanted to cry. Your fear had stayed at bay, but was ambushing you now.

You gripped his coat as you teared up, mouth opening and closing, but nothing came out. You sucked anxious breaths as you looked around, conflicted between crying and telling him it was all so frightening, and getting up and making everyone work hard to save your business.

Your thoughts must have been clear in your eyes because he held you back, grounding you with enough space to let you breathe and process.

“I know. It’s a lot. I promise everyone is handling it, but you are more important.” He spoke calmly, but not condescendingly, and it only made you shake harder. “Tell me: does anything hurt?”

You pulled in a deep breath and frowned, then shook your head. A small explosion behind him drew your eyes, but he guided your chin gently so you’d face him again.

“I’m going to touch you, and you’re going to tell me if it hurts.”

You were ready to cuss him out, but as soon as he released you, you grabbed onto him desperately. There was nothing in his dark eyes as he looked up again, yet you were so embarrassed you could have died. You didn’t want to hold onto him for dear life like that, but it was stronger than you. Your lips trembled, and you suppressed your cry, unable to explain or control what was happening to you, but he had you.

He leaned into you, tugging you in with his elbows on each side of your legs, “I know, I’m here.”

Your frightened eyes showed him enough to anticipate the moment you let go of him to throw your arms around his neck and squeeze tightly. He could barely breathe, but it was secondary; he embraced you slowly, afraid to hurt you. The adrenaline running through your system changed the way you perceived pain, and he’d never risk harming you. Still, you needed to feel safe, so he held you as hard as he could safely. 

You were shaking, maybe even crying, but rightfully in his arms. Despite the chaos behind him, that was all that mattered.

He waited until you pulled away, sniffling and pulling your long hair back, embarrassed to face him. It told him the first part was over, and that now you’d be able to talk.

“We need to get you checked.”

“No,” you dismissed easily. “I only trust my people, anyway.”

He swallowed his exasperation and tried again, “But at a hospital—”

“No, just take me home.” You got up and faced the mess before you with a hard expression, catching him off guard. He got on his feet quickly, ready to try to convince you to go to the hospital anyway, but you looked at him again, “My people can meet me there, and I have calls to make.”

He observed you, clearly not convinced, but you stood your ground. You didn’t want to ask nor admit you needed him right now to feel safe and be able to look that problem in the eye. You’d soon be yourself again, and that moment of weakness was unforgivable, even more so in front of him. But as you faced him and waited for his response, you closed your fists and tried not to wobble on your heels or cry again. You had a reputation to uphold, people to manage, retaliation to prepare, and maybe your knees hurt a little bit.

“Alright.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and directed you slowly in another direction, away from it all. In other circumstances, you could have thought about the potential danger of going with him, but you dismissed those thoughts. Yoongi was your cop, even if you hadn’t seen him in months. He was there for you, and there was no judgment in his eyes.

You sat on the shotgun seat of his car and looked at your lap. The time it took him to circle the car was enough for you to chastise yourself for being so gullible.

He sat down next to you and got ready to drive, and you didn’t hesitate to ask, “Did you know about this?”

“About what?”

“About their plan.”

He glanced at you, then got the car moving, “I was driving home when I was notified of what happened and drove straight here.”

You closed your trembling hands over your lap again, uncomfortable with how relieved his words made you. Your eyes settled on the rearview mirror, where all the chaos was being left behind, and you sighed. You couldn’t let that shake you; it was just a place, a business, one of countless others. It didn’t matter that you were there, that it happened so close you were deaf from your right ear, that you could have died, that it was way too close for comfort.

He reached to grab your hand, and you looked at him again. You didn’t know what to call this or how to interpret it, but he was there. Yoongi was right there.

His perfume was all around you, and with the lull of the car, the nightly traffic, and his hand in yours, you managed to close your eyes, work through the adrenaline, and doze off.

You opened your eyes when he squeezed your hand, meeting the gate of your private property in Hannam-dong. His window was down, and your housekeeper was asking who he was.

“It’s me, Sooyong,” you raised your voice just enough.

The gate instantly opened, and you stretched lazily. You weren’t shaking anymore, and your judgment wasn’t clouded either. All in all, those thirty minutes had managed to calm you down. Of course, your knees stung, your head fucking hurt, and you would feel your left side for days since you fell on it during the explosion. But fuck, if you weren’t ready to get down to business ASAP.

You told Yoongi where to go so he could park inside your garage, then left the car swiftly before it was even off. You didn’t wait for him to follow you inside, but knew he would; instead, you handed your coat to Sooyong, nodded at your two security guards, and bent down to greet your two lovely Dobermans: Archer and Gunner.

“The medic will be here shortly, and I already asked for a preliminary report of the damage.”

Sooyong was looking at Yoongi with suspicion, but you ignored it, “Get me a phone, I need to contact Hoon Yeong.”

Your butler bowed and obeyed instantly, but Yoongi wasn’t able to think about what he was hearing. The two big goons didn’t follow Sooyong, and your dogs had turned to Yoongi the second you stopped petting them.

In another circumstance, Yoongi could have felt intimidated or at least uncomfortable by the whole situation, but not tonight. You were still bleeding, slept only ten minutes in the car, and were now getting worked up instead of resting.

So he spoke up, “You need to get checked before anything else.”

It didn’t matter that your men looked ready to beat him up or that your dogs were sniffing him too close for comfort. You glanced at him, “I’m fine.”

Then you turned and left, disappearing further inside the house.

He didn’t hesitate to follow after you, ready to insist on you taking this seriously, but he wasn’t able to. You dismissed your guards with a wave before they could grab Yoongi to drag him out, and were already pressing a phone to your ear.

He looked around your big living room, its white couches, carpets, fancy glass chandeliers falling from elevated ceilings, and matching walls adorned with expensive art. You didn’t just live lavishly; you displayed it, too.

You sat on a couch while you spoke with a hand covering your eyes, and Yoongi moved quickly to dim the lights. You were stubborn, but he wouldn’t make things harder for you.

He waited while you talked, disliking the observant butler in the corner of the room. Yes, Yoongi was listening to everything you said, but you could have easily told him to leave. So instead, he kept your two dogs busy with him and quiet while you made one call after another, holding nothing back.

“Secure all locations, increase the bouncers working tonight, and do random checks. Send someone to La Mordidita to account for all our staff, and Thoma to make a sweep before the firefighters start snooping around. I want to know what can be recovered and who the fuck dared to pull this shit off.”

“And? And the product? The insurance? Yes, indeed. Don’t move it, don’t do anything. Keep me posted.”

“Talk to me, Ulan,” you sighed, fatigued from handling multiple people. “I want to know how the fuck does anyone even plan this, and I don’t hear about it.”

You were pacing around with each call; whatever you were learning was not helping you settle. The medic arrived and asked you to sit to work on your wounds, but you were restless. You were trying to figure out who did it, and it was clear to him by the way you started shouting that your people knew and that something had failed.

The medic tried cleaning your temple wound, mentioning a concussion, but in your temper, you slapped her hand away. That was the moment Yoongi decided to intervene; he got up, waved the medic away, and took over.

You were ready to slap his hand away, too, but froze when your eyes met his. His expression was hard, saying without as much as an eyelash bat that you needed to hang up. 

You huffed your annoyance and quickly redirected your anger, “If you know, then get me something. Those bastards found out about it somehow. Get me the mole, and something that will hurt them just as badly. Weren’t they importing weapons illegally to sell to both North and South? Get me something!”

You ended the call and threw your phone to the other end of the couch.

“The fucking audacity,” you spit between gritted teeth, glaring at Yoongi. He worked fast on the wound on the side of your head, but it still stung.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, it fucking hurts!”

You exploded and instantly saw the glint in his eyes. Why did he look so dazzling, taunting you like that? He did not react to your outburst whatsoever, so you rolled your eyes.

He started cleaning the cuts on your palms. “Why would they attack your restaurant?”

You gritted your teeth and waved everyone else out of the room, adding a command that guided your darling puppies to their big pillows in the corner of the room. You were annoyed with absolutely everything, and even more with the answer about to fall from your lips, “Because they knew I would go there to secure important goods.”

“Was this personal?”

You smirked bitterly, “Had to be.”

“What were the goods?”

“The product we got last time. Some of it, anyway.”

“How did they find out?”

“A mole, for certain. I moved everything across multiple locations and only disclosed today that a fraction would go to this restaurant for distribution. So unless they can read my fucking mind, they had to learn it from a fucking mole.”

“They could have just followed you if they knew you’d go personally.”

You paused and then chuckled while he prepared the gauze to clean the wounds on your knees. “But they could have attacked any of the venues I was in before, and they didn’t. They had to know what was in this one was worth destroying.” He nodded quietly, seemingly focused on getting your knees clean of debris. You hated the silence and almost growled, “But they have no fucking idea who they’re messing with.”

“No, they don’t.”

His answer was so serene, that it accentuated the silence that echoed the room. He got rid of the bloodied and dirty gauze, looking you over as though he was evaluating if anything else needed pressing attention, and it hit you. “You’re still here.”

He looked at you, “Do you know who did this?”

There was a shift in his tone that made you shudder, “The Russians.”

“Where would it hurt them?”

“Their warehouse downtown.”

“Their boss?”

“Prokhor Evgeni.”

“Where is he?”

“The Evgeni Sports Center in Heungin-dong.”

Yoongi nodded and got up, leaving the same way he got there, and you were dumbfounded.

“Wait!” You got up, and he stopped to look at you. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see.”

Some could say that was an abuse of power, but it was too easy.

He realized, as he drove under a sky barely blemished by the rising sun, that when the force wanted to, shit got done in a flash. They said, ‘Where there is a will, there is a way’, and he was in the unique position to have both.

He stopped in a no-parking zone in front of the Evgeni Sports Center in Heungin-dong and made his way lazily up the stairs of the entrance. The big thugs outside didn’t phase him as he asked to speak with Prokhor Evgeni. His tone was dry and blasé, and the men’s reactions were to laugh and joke about it being almost 6 AM. The center was closed to people like him.

“Nothing is ever closed to people like me,” he found himself answering, unmoving.

He saw commotion behind the thugs, where he imagined the security booth was, and instantly relaxed. People like him didn’t have to show identification, his face was enough. He glanced at his watch as he waited, ignoring the quips of the two men, who were increasingly dumbfounded by the situation.

He understood; he would have been stupefied as well. After all, even Superintendent Generals would have security if they wanted to confront the head of a mafia at 6 AM. But as it turned out, Yoongi was feeling beside himself. It was time to start using who he was to get shit done, instead of hiding and praying someone like you could give out a hand. Not this time; it was his turn.

One of the bouncers couldn’t read the room and made a move to touch him, and Yoongi’s eyebrow almost twitched. He just needed one touch to arrest him and get a warrant. Would that be an abuse of power as well?

Fortunately for the small fry, someone from the back called out his name and reprimanded him swiftly in Russian. It was enough for Yoongi to assume everyone was on the same page, and follow when said man — a big, wide fellow with small eyeglasses — waved at him to follow.

Yoongi went up the elevator with the guy in silence, evaluating if anything still needed to be done to wrap this up, but it was just that. And a phone call.

He ignored everything he saw as he walked the corridors, from the men passing him to the gambling hastily hidden by the doors continuously closing in his wake. Finally, he arrived at the office of the big boss, judging by the cigars, wide flat screens showing multiple sports simultaneously, and the big foreigner man with much more white hair than he would have guessed, sitting behind a desk.

“I couldn’t believe it when they told me,” Prokhor Evgeni laughed before the amusement dropped from his face. “But here you are. You must be lost,” he bit the cigar in his mouth, unable to hide his discomfort.

Yoongi stretched his shoulders a little bit and, on cue, his phone rang. He picked it up, “Got it.” 

He put his phone back inside his pocket, looking at Prokhor as if waiting for him to say something, which only annoyed the old thug further.

Yoongi looked around as if he had all the time in the world, “I’ll wait for you to be put in the loop.”

Prokhor smacked his hands on the desk, getting up with a shout that never came out because his phone rang as well. He sat back down, cursing under his breath, and picked it up. His gaze was venomous as he heard the caller, unable to stop Yoongi when he reached for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter lying on the desk.

The mob boss’ cheeks were getting redder and redder, yet Yoongi was unfazed as he lit a cigarette and took a drag that numbed his senses. He almost groaned then, holding it in for such a long time he lost track. How had he ever stayed away?

Prokhor yelled what were probably obscenities before slamming the phone on the desk, but before he could talk, Yoongi breathed, “Justice just never sleeps.” The smoke exited his parted lips slowly, and the mob boss stilled, starting to understand the situation. “We were lucky too,” he smirked, taking another drag. “Your kids still had the same materials used in the explosives in their car. Otherwise, I don’t know. We might have required a warrant to search for more potentially harmful materials. Say in the warehouse downtown where they were found lounging around smoking weed when they were arrested.”

Yoongi suppressed a smirk as he put the cigarette between his lips, and the mob boss was so red he was about to explode. He knew the kids weren’t found near his warehouse, so the implication was clear.

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?!”

He hissed, but Yoongi only kept smoking placidly, “Just try to poke your head out again.”

In a flash, pure anger became bewilderment in the giant’s blue eyes, “No way.” Yoongi didn’t even blink, so Prokhor scoffed, “Bitch really has the Superintendent General on a leash?”

Yoongi threw the cigarette on the garish carpet, “I like it quiet.”

He turned to leave, but Prokhor got up in a fury again, “I have people too! People who can bite your head off!”

Yoongi turned but kept walking backward, opening his arms in a momentary invitation, before leaving that place without as much as a hair out of place.

It was interesting to consider that Prokhor’s threats could hold true, but Yoongi didn’t feel minimally affected. He got inside his car to drive home and reevaluated his thought process. He and the Firefighter’s Captain had a long history, the Mayor called him for favors, and the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency still operated under his direct scrutiny. It was why puzzling the evidence from the restaurant fire had been so easy, especially given that Thoma had conveniently left the place ready for them. Yoongi assumed; he saw a man in the shadows, between the mess, and minutes later, a firefighter had found something. Interesting how explosions in rich parts of town were such a priority for the city; the division of arson investigation could take years to build a case, but tonight, a couple of hours sufficed. The Mayor saw to that as soon as Yoongi called. And the media would love that swift action, earning everyone brownie points for reelection.

Yoongi parked as he scoffed to himself; he was playing a dangerous game. He eyed his house, wondering if he should feel wary about anything happening to him, but he brushed it off. And if it did? He did what he had to do, and he’d sleep like a rock, knowing he had taken care of everything so you could finally sleep your concussion off.

He got inside his house with the first rays of morning, thanking the universe it was Saturday. But he sighed and didn’t throw his jacket too far, only on the nearest couch, before making his way to the kitchen. He would probably still work—

Something cut the corner at the same time as him but from the kitchen, and his reflex was to pull out his gun instantly, taking a step back. You were tranquil, despite the gun barrel on your face, and his eyes widened in disbelief, “Jesus fuck!”

He could barely believe it was you, with no bandages on your head and now wearing a black dress instead of white, but he still put the gun down. Or would have, but you shoved it away first, then grabbed his head to kiss him.

Instantly, he put the pistol down on a nearby counter, just in time before you pushed him back. He hit a cabinet glass door with your strength and immediately caught you when you threw yourself in his arms, frantically kissing him as if there wouldn’t be a tomorrow.

His initial shock didn’t last when your taste and perfume assured him it was you, and with you, insanity was to be expected. He had nothing against you being in his house, kissing him, or coming to him in general.

But he still tried to hold you back gently so he could ask, “Shouldn’t you— be in bed— resting?”

He spoke between your hungry lips, whenever you gave him a split second, and you laughed, “Take me to bed, then.”

Your sly smile died in a small yelp when he bent down to pick you up in his arms. You held onto him silently while he carried you upstairs to his bedroom, and his ego couldn’t have been more inflated after that whole crazy night. What got him wasn’t that he managed to calm you down, met your dogs, or solved your problem by showing some mob boss how big his cock was, no. What got him hard in a split second was that little yelp and your silence as he carried you effortlessly. He might have had an office job, but he still took the time to go to the gym every day, and fuck if it wasn’t worth it.

When he put you down over the bed, he thought you’d actually want to sleep after such an exhausting night, but he should have known better. You got on your knees on the bed before he could open his mouth and started unbuttoning his shirt. His expression must have given away his thoughts because you didn’t stop, but you didn’t push him either. You waited for a clear indication that you could touch him, but didn’t hesitate to get him naked, opening every button. Then, when you pulled the shirt back over his shoulders, he grabbed your head to kiss you.

Your reaction was instant, rushing to get rid of the shirt and unbuckle his belt as he consumed your mouth eagerly. It was hard not getting distracted, especially by the way he easily pulled on your hair to keep you on your toes, but it only served to melt you. Even when he did it with a level of gentleness, careful about your injuries; something that could easily trigger you and turn you off, but tonight made you so eager to be with him, that you didn’t recognize yourself.

You moaned inside his mouth when he sucked your tongue, dizzy from the blood rushing everywhere all at once. Fortunately, you had made your way inside his pants and could anchor yourself to his cock.

It only made you groan harder as you pumped him; he couldn’t get harder than that, and your wet core would be the perfect match.

His consuming kiss along with his soft touches could have gotten you to settle and let him decide where to take this, but you knew what you wanted and your limits. You needed Yoongi like air to breathe, but you were on painkillers and exhausted. You shouldn’t have driven there in that condition, but couldn’t stop yourself. So, you pushed through his addictive, wild kisses and pulled his pants and underwear down, hinting at him to strip fully.

He did so in a heartbeat, falling over you so quickly you didn’t see it coming. Accommodating him over you between your parted legs was everything you wanted, so you sighed into his returning mouth, clawing at his back so he’d come closer. His lips soon made a detour to your neck, and you were overrun by shivers, almost pleading his name with how much you were dying to feel him.

But as he made his way down to your chest, you pushed through your cloudy, horny judgment. You pushed him by the shoulders and got on top of him, straddling him easily. His head fell over the pillow, dark hair contrasting with the white as his equally dark eyes observed you. They were glistening, hungry, but the hands on your hips were patient, and controlled. Min Yoongi wanted to ravish you, but for you, he’d give you the lead. You almost teased him about it, but there was no time to waste.

You had never seen him naked, so you weren’t shy about looking; quickly, but still. You touched every scar you could see — on his left shoulder, under his ribs, on the side of his waist, wondering how he had gotten injured and if it had hurt. Your lips followed suit, lingering over his skin while you sniffed his scent on your way to an untamed delicacy.

You only nuzzled him for a second before starting to lick his balls greedily, and he groaned, “You don’t have to.”

You smirked, laughing with yourself — as if you’d miss the opportunity. “I want to.”

It would be wrong to say you drove across town in that state to give head to Min Yoongi, but it was close to the truth. In your plans, you spent more time working him up — kissing him, dry humping, maybe even twisting those pretty nipples — before reaching his balls and preparing him to give you cum all night long.

But the fucking concussion and pain and tiredness or whatever. It irritated you, your knees hurt, and your head was spinning, and not necessarily from his luscious scent or your insane lust. So, unfortunately, you had to cut to the chase.

Just licking the tip of his dick wasn’t enough; not for you, and not for him. You wanted the thick mushroom tip between your lips, and the guttural groan he let out once you sucked broke the dam for you.

You licked and drooled all over him, bobbing your head to get him further and further inside you with greed that bordered on obsession. The more your jaw slacked, and his taste flooded your mouth, the more you needed to feel him pressing, invading, reaching inside you. His groans matched your moans, his fists around the sheets mimicked your hands holding his hips, and the desperation of his hips, moving to match your head falling on him, almost fulfilled your need.

Until you realized that wouldn’t do. Your wet cunt was throbbing slick, desperate with your need, and you were selfish. You wanted him to bust his nut down your throat, but fuck; you wanted to ride him more.

The drool that fell all over his hard, red shaft was almost embarrassing, but you didn’t waste time licking it. You got off him to slide your underwear off, your eyes never abandoning his, and so you didn’t miss him looking at you with a glint of despair in his eyes.

“I think I wouldn’t have lasted five more seconds.”

You grinned at his confession and got back on him, throwing your dress around so you could align him with your slit, “Good.” You felt the tip of his cock, and so did he, because he gripped your hips as if to stop you. “You better hold it.”

His dark eyes showed a hint of torture, but you were not sympathetic. You pressed yourself down on him, rolling your hips to get him coated in you, forcibly stretching you, making you keen so ecstatically, that you threw your head back. If his thick cock tucked inside you wasn’t enough, then the groans out of his mouth, with gritted teeth and a frown, in deep concentration, would take the cake. You rolled your hips further, slowly in wide movements, seeing every line in his face contorting or twitching under your sweet torture, his strength slowly leaving him as he fought tooth and nail not to come so soon. 

“Your— Your knees—”

You smirked, oblivious about your bandaged knees at that moment. “Shut up, just let me ride you.”

His nails pierced your skin at the hips around your garter, and you moaned approvingly. Just looking at him, the blood rushed to your cheeks, the temperature rising immediately in a heatwave through your body. Every grunt of his was fuel; you couldn’t stop moving, dragging his thick cock across your walls so it could disappear deep inside you and torture him some more. And you, because the more he resisted, the more you wanted it, and the more it got to you too.

You knew you’d come pathetically quick but didn’t imagine it would be this fast. The pleasure burning through you was so overwhelming and undeniable, that soon you were riding him hungrily, not to torture him, but to come with him. He noticed it somehow because he started helping you, meeting you with short thrusts upwards that set your body on fire. You wanted him so fucking bad that leaning over his chest to kiss him before you came became your final act, and you crashed.

Your mouth pressed to his with a shaky moan from deep inside your chest, and he held the back of your head, keeping you in place. He fucked you through your orgasm, your throbbing so intense around him, it took him seconds to spill inside you; to groan into your mouth as he pressed you down, burying his cock as deep as he could.

Feeling him coming was such a delight, you grinned. The silence was cut by your chuckle seconds later, and even when he bit your cheek, you didn’t come down from cloud nine.

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 3

“It's not the price of anything or a deal. Just let me eat you out again.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi needs you again, and you strike a deal. This time, you don't ask for any favors, though. Now what?

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: corruption, power dynamics, mentions of crimes, guns, knifes, semi-public sex, fingering, oral (f rec), masturbation (both), caught having sex, unprotected sex, switching, bratty, hate sex...

A.N. Ignore the excuse for steamy hot sex... Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for working through my crazy and being incredible! Enjoy 🔥🔥

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

Yoongi threw the package of gum across the desk, ignoring it when it fell to the floor of his office. It was empty, again, and his fingers were twitching with how much he needed a fix. He huffed; as if quitting smoking fucking mattered.

His last promotion so many months back had not come without its challenges. His bosses knew how difficult his cases were, but after he saved Officer Jimin, they chose him for the job. He heaved a deep breath and pressed his eyes beneath his eyeglasses; the problem was that he wasn't the one who actually fixed it then, and he didn't have a way to fix things now.

He thought about you more often than he'd care to admit. Initially, he thought you had infected him. How else was it that he thought of you for no reason, got boners at random times just remembering something about you, or couldn't jerk off without thinking of you?

It was all because he was lust-crazed the last time you were together. He shouldn't have succumbed to it and given you what you wanted, but he was thinking with his dick. That was it. He didn't know he could act like that, but he guessed you did that to him. So he shouldn’t have been intimate with you or let it get to his fucking head, let alone have your name written across his cock for months for no reason. He was an idiot, but no one else got him going. And so he had given you everything you wanted.

He held his end of the deal once he checked the address you gave him. It was easy to get a warrant since witnesses were placing key directors of the conglomerate in that area, and in a second, everything had gone down. Like wildfire spreading, the amount of incriminating evidence found in that gambling house was still turning heads months later. It was a win for the department, a success with the public, and it affected a long chain of people in power, from managers to politicians. Once again, Yoongi was seen as the face of justice, and he was left uneasy about it.

He had used the flash drive well, but first, he asked his team to investigate its contents. He was done with being your puppet; you were as bad as the people you were helping put away. How the hell had you gotten that info? You had a reputation regarding information, but still. What did you know? And how did you know it?

Unfortunately, he couldn't find anything. All he had were suspicions and gut feelings, but that wasn't much of a case. Still, he'd get to the bottom of it. He'd find your dirty little secrets, and not because he wanted to have something on you like you had on him. Not because he wanted to blackmail you, but to level the playing field.

The problem was that he needed you again. He handled his cases fairly well, but a drug operation had just gone south. The undercover agent who infiltrated to bust the biggest net of distribution in Seoul had just died in a shootout, and they couldn't even recover the body because the dealers took him with them. The family needed to be informed, and without their son to bury, it was bound to be a huge problem. It didn't matter that Yoongi took over the operation a couple of months ago; his head would roll, and he wouldn't be able to bring peace to the lost agent or his family. He sighed and pressed his eyes; his failure he could handle, but not leaving the grieving family like this.

So he got up, left his office, and crossed the parking lot to his car. He worked at a more prominent building now, but the road was the same one as he drove to Aether. He couldn't think of anyone else who could help, and you had always come through. Maybe you knew where his body was or how to get to him, or any other information that could help. It didn't hurt to try, even for a price.

The sly smiles you gave him popped into his mind, but he stayed focused. That wouldn't happen again, and this was bigger than him. This was about doing the right thing again, and you'd surely understand.

He was surprised when the security at the Aether recognized him and instantly let him in without checking him. As he followed a member of the club's staff down a familiar path, he considered that he had only been there once, so that had to be your doing.

Before he could think further about it, he was stepping into your office with the door closing behind him. You were wearing a white shirt with a couple of buttons open and had your hair up in a messy bun, sitting at your desk working at your computer as if you had a simple office job. You stayed focused, typing whatever you needed before waving for him to take a seat. His eyes traced every detail of your focused expression. You looked healthy and glowing, focused on your work, and he wondered if things were working out for you.

“My, you look stiff, Chief,” you commented, taking a glance at him before wrapping up whatever was taking your full attention from him. Your smile had a hint of mischief, and it was a relief. “In need of a drink? Must be, after the whole drug mess and agent down ordeal.”

His shoulders softened, “I need your help.”

You straightened your shoulders, “Why would I help you?”

“Because there must be something you want.”

Silence stretched between you as you both just eyed each other. Neither one gave away what was running through your minds, and he decided to wait quietly. He could overthink this — excuse himself for calling you greedy and/or letting you think he meant it sexually — or wait for your spirited self to run the show.

He was certain about waiting, thus having time to adjust to you, and yet you scrunched your nose slightly and looked away when a notification popped up on the screen. It made him feel uneasy in your presence for the first time, and he decided to change his approach. He was coming to you for help; the least he could do was make it interesting for you, too.

“I thought it could be in your interest as well,” he restarted, sitting comfortably. “They're stepping into your territory, no?”

“I'm not in the drug market.”

“But you want to be.”

His heart started racing, and he cursed you in his mind. Did you want him to chase you? To plead and beg like before? Did you have to look so effortlessly breathtaking doing it?

The corners of your lips twitched, and it was the only hint of the familiar mischievousness he was used to. You stayed quiet as you considered things, even eying the paperwork on your desk in front of you for a moment.

He wondered if he should say something else when you finally said, “If I help you bust their network and get your agent, you'll let me take some of their product.”

He pursed his lips, “If I bust them, I'll already be helping you with a competitor.”

“But without immediate product, I won't be able to control the market and distribute it safely,” you shrugged, and he was mesmerized. You were doing business, and he shouldn't be that entranced, but he was. “Trust me, that's the only right way of doing it. Otherwise, the small fries will start selling bad products and have people sick and overdosing on your streets.”

He knew his answer but insisted anyway, “And my agent?”

“He's been moved to one of their warehouses where coincidentally they have their ‘clinic’,” you used your fingers to quote, then pressed your lips. “They'll dump him somewhere soon.”

He nodded. That was one of his fears. They needed to get rid of the body so as not to be incriminated, and he needed to get to him before they did something irreversible.

“What can you do?”

You hummed, “Addresses and names. But we'll need to coordinate when you raid them so some products can slip through the cracks. Except for that particular warehouse, you should go there as soon as possible.” 

“We have a deal.”

You reached for a sticky note and scribbled before giving it to him. “I can arrange for people to support your operation quietly in a couple of hours.”

He caught the sticky note, rolling it in his fingers. “I can't do it that quickly.”

You nodded and asked for the paper again, then added something under it before returning it. “My private number. Use a burner and let me know.”

He took the note and looked at it nonchalantly, but his teeth still nipped his bottom lip. Why was he getting that excited? It wasn't a date. It meant absolutely nothing. And yet, he felt giddy when he looked at you getting back to your paperwork. He wanted to jump from the chair and—

“Was there anything else?”

You asked, looking up from the documents as though you were surprised he was still there.

He pressed his lips, “Just… We made a deal.”

“Yes.”

“And I guess I didn't leave you wanting like last time.”

You sat back and gave him your full attention again, though your typical mischief was nowhere to be found.

“Are you trying to say you expected a sexual favor?”

“Yes.”

You scoffed, “Well then, shouldn't you be happy there isn't one?”

He didn't respond and just evaluated your reaction. Were you upset with him? Why weren't you teasing him relentlessly for even bringing it up? Were you no longer interested? But then, why did you sound just a little bit annoyed? Was he reading into it too much, or could he just already read you?

He got up and put the paper inside his jacket pocket before taking it off and leaving it on the chair. You observed him and straightened even more against your office chair when he circled the desk to get to you.

“I didn't request anything,” you reiterated.

“I know,” he answered calmly, turning your chair to him.

“I'm not threatening you either,” you added, your eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion.

He looked down at where he knew your knife would be and nodded, “You're not.”

You looked up at him, almost flabbergasted, “So what is it? Or do you just want to hear praise or something—”

“Thought you'd tease me about it,” he admitted, then moved to his knees because standing and forcing you to look up didn't seem natural.

You pressed your lips, “There's nothing to tease. You gave me exactly what I asked for.”

From that angle, you looked even more powerful, almost majestic. His brain was really wired wrong because instead of happily leaving through the door, he wanted to touch you.

But he wouldn't until he understood, “And there's nothing else you want?”

“There is,” you didn't hesitate, almost making him smile. But he didn't because you didn't seem at ease.

“Then ask.”

“There's no need.”

“And if I want you to?”

“Why would you want that?”

Your suspicion was plain in your light frown, and he took a moment to think it over, “Because we should celebrate. We're doing something good.”

You tilted your head, “We're saving your ass.”

He rolled his eyes; it wasn't just that, and you knew it. “And that's also a good thing. So let's enjoy it.”

“You’re already going to pay me for—”

“It's not the price of anything or a deal. Just let me eat you out again.”

Your eyes widened, “What?” 

Your stupefied look wasn’t enough for him to back down nor to think closely about what he was doing. He looked down at your legs, covered above the knee by a raised skirt with golden floral patterns. Every ticking second increased his eagerness, no matter how patient and composed he seemed. He could already see his long fingers indenting the flesh of your thighs, and he could almost remember the exact scent between them, too; it made him dizzy with want.

“You just…” You started, tilting your head slightly again, drawing his eyes up. “Want to give me head… to celebrate?”

He hummed, licking his lips subconsciously, and you blinked. It took you a second, but a crooked smile pulled your lips, and you spread your legs. You exuded a snobbish nonchalance that almost annoyed him. Still, there was a clear invitation in your actions that he prioritized over anything that could stop him from getting what he wanted.

His fingers gripped your outer thighs gently as he moved in, nuzzling your soft skin with a deep breath. He could have forgotten why he wanted to be that close in the months that passed, but taking in your sweet scent, he chose to forget everything else instead. The fact that he shouldn’t do this, that he didn’t have to, the cameras, the time and place; none of it mattered. There was no use in letting the disgust or frustration disrupt the moment he’d finally attained what he had fantasized about for so long. His teeth and tongue teased you gently, earning your hand in his hair, and he sighed, relaxed. Just for a little while, he’d admit he wanted it and grasp it all.

Still, he moved slowly, or as slowly as he could in his urge. His deft fingers dragged the hem of your skirt slowly back while he feasted on the sight being revealed, an inch at a time. His tongue kept circling over your sensitive skin, yearning for what he knew would soon be unveiled, and your deepening breath only made his hunger stronger. Your nails were grazing the back of his head, massaging his scalp in waves as if you wanted to pull him closer and urge him to move faster. He could only agree with you, but there was a sweet torture in making you both long for it.

“Is it the humiliation, Chief?”

Your voice was a wanton breath that had him sinking his teeth just a little more while he finally revealed what was under your skirt.

“No,” he murmured back, voice taken. 

Why were you not wearing any underwear? He could have asked, but the question slipped from his mind. One second he was taking in the view of your glistening slit, juicy just for him with barely a touch; the next, he was jumping forward, springing on his heels to press his face to your core as hard as he could to taste you.

His tongue darted out, spreading over your lips to open them, tasting and collecting as much of your wetness as possible, and you moaned. He heard it; you didn’t mean to, but you wiggled on your chair to give him better access and intensify those sensations, melting you, releasing even more of you for him to taste.

He could have made you work for it, but he was thirsty and, like a junkie, addicted. Every drop made him forget himself and crave the next, and when it came, it reminded him why he wanted it all to begin with. You were a force of nature, reacting to him like the perfect storm — quaking above him, breathing heavily with your voice etched quietly to the little wheezes, trembling with your legs firm around his head. He sighed, nuzzling your clit greedily. After longing for you for months, your taste had finally invaded his mouth, and along with your scent, he was drowning. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips — he had reached paradise.

Your thighs clenched around his head, and he tried to prevent you from pushing him away by holding onto you tighter, but the arms of your office chair were making things difficult.

He was displeased but had to move away and breathe, “Stay still.”

“Yoongi…”

Your voice was broken, and your flushed, desperate expression twisted his guts unexpectedly. In a second, he rose to his feet and grabbed your arms, yanking you to stand up before dragging you with him. You didn’t offer resistance, pliable to him, just like last time. 

He placed you in front of the smoked glass overseeing the dance floor of Aether just below, and you extended your arms to support yourself on it. Instantly, his lips latched onto the back of your neck, right under your messy bun. Your moan gave him goosebumps, and he didn’t stop, tracing your curves with big, open hands while suckling your skin. 

You drove him crazy. Last time, you were sitting above him, pleasuring yourself on his face like you owned him, and now, you were letting him position you and touch you to his heart’s content. He wanted to get on his knees so you’d grind on his face, but he also craved leading you to the state you were in right now, at your utmost vulnerability, letting him do as he pleased.

But all he wanted to do was get more. Like an alcoholic downing a drink after a long drought, he craved more of you with every inch he touched, whiff he took, and flavor he swallowed. Even with you vulnerable in his arms like that, he didn’t want to subdue you or take advantage — quite the opposite.

He kneeled and moved to slot himself between your parted legs and the glass. He yanked the skirt back up to have unrestrained access before licking and biting your mound while his fingers traced a slow, maddening trail up your legs. You groaned above him, and he was lost again, needing more of your voice just like that.

He gripped your ass, pulling you flush to his face with his lips brushing your clit. You jolted, searching for something more than a fleeting touch, and he groaned. The more you gave him, the more he wanted; there was no holding back.

“Look,” he whispered, looking up at you. Your open lips, graciously letting your quiet whimpers out, trembled, and he nuzzled your bikini line. Your scent intensified his crazed desire, but he insisted, “Look at them.”

You did, as one hand of his kept you in place, grabbing your ass cheek, and the other disappeared between your legs. He observed you, taking in how you gasped when his digits sunk inside, widening your eyes at the unsuspecting crowd. It set his nerve endings on fire the way you whimpered softly above him while your slick slid down his fingers as he pressed inside your velvet flesh. It was why he needed more, coaxing you with his hooked fingers to see where he could take you.

Your whimpers became inconsistent, and not even a thumb rubbing your clit made you fall into the rhythm. On the contrary, you kept tightening, moaning, and yet he could sense the note of annoyance in your tone. His eyes and mouth were on you, licking the soft spot where your leg met your mound, and he wondered what more could you possibly want. 

He knew you were close; he had obsessed over the little signs of your peak, and he was seeing them now: your lip tucked between your teeth as you fought rolling your head back while moans slipped from your throat. And yet, you weren’t letting it happen. Why?

The answer came when you grasped his hair between your fingers and pulled him to the right spot. You forced him there while you humped his face, pressing his head to the glass, and a smile crept on his face. Your moans became desperate as you viciously chased your climax on his mouth, and the euphoria lit his head like fireworks. He didn’t know why, but you taking what you wanted from him was so fucking hot, his hard cock was aching inside his pants.

It didn’t take long for you to find the perfect friction, and he helped by suckling. The moment your clit slotted between his lips and he sucked hard, you tried to move but it was too late. He heard it in the pitch of your moan, the way you cowered over him against the glass, and the faint grind as you trembled against his mouth. You were heavenly— like a godsent delicacy, your orgasm only accentuated your taste, your divinity, and like a fool, he couldn’t resist.

You pulled away. He knew that moment would come, and perhaps that was why his tongue had been restless. Even during your aftershocks, he still searched for more, licking your cum off your swollen lips like an opportunistic slob. Yet, he relented when you moved back and stayed kneeling to give you space, removing only his head from the glass. 

His dick was throbbing in his pants, crying for attention and relief, but his mind was somewhere else. His hungry eyes stayed on you as he wiped his chin, and you composed yourself. He had what he wanted. Of course, he’d have more if he could, but a part of him expected you to tell him to leave now that you were satiated. It would both anger him and amuse him if it were the case, so he was anticipating what would happen next.

“Sit down.”

He almost jolted, confused. He was already kneeling—

“Sit,” you insisted more firmly, pointing at your office chair.

You walked over and perched yourself on the desk, facing the chair between you two, and suddenly, he thought that maybe it wasn’t over yet. He got up and did as you asked, spreading his legs to accommodate his hard dick. It wasn’t a hint. He wasn’t able to think that far. All he could do was look at you, already so tranquil, when he wanted to mess you up all over again.

“Pull your dick out.”

He burned from the inside out, taking seconds to comply with a muted eagerness. He remembered you saying that last time all too well, and the thought of you using him again got him so excited his fingers were shaking.

“Grab it,” you said, and he did, fighting to keep his eyes open to look at you. 

You were observing every move of his long fingers, and you surely didn’t miss how his cock was weeping. Your tongue peeked out between your lips as he spread it over the tip, and the sight was enough for him to release more. His balls tensed, still tucked tight inside his pants as his whole body screamed for release. Wouldn’t you put him out of his misery?

“Show me,” you demanded, licking your lips, and he almost groaned. His plea must have been clear in his eyes because you bit your lip. “Show me how you work your cock.”

His palm moved down his length, and he shook his head. He needed to feel you, to touch you, to have you on his lap, moaning with every plunge of his hard cock inside you, and yet you changed everything. You just had to ask for something, and he instantly did it, like a puppet entranced by your charms. Not even the principles he upheld withstood; there was only them or you, and you were undeniable.

Doing what you asked had its dangers, but having your full attention was worth it. Your dark eyes were boring into his, drinking the sight of him fisting himself on your chair like you were equally hypnotized. Fortunately for Yoongi, jerking off meant controlling how soon he’d blow, and he could edge himself all night if it meant having the chance of you riding him.

He didn’t count on you opening your shirt slowly, pushing each button through its eyelet, working your way from top to bottom as though the fabric bothered you. But the more you revealed, the harder it was to stay put. Your unblemished skin looked appetizing, smooth, begging to be licked, bitten, shown the meaning of want. Your breasts, tucked inside your bra, looked too constrained for his taste. He knew what your round breasts looked and tasted like, and he was on the verge of begging for the chance to touch them. He could drive you crazy, he wanted to, and—

He held his breath and slowed his hand, taking you in like a mirage. You squeezed your tits over the bra, moaning under your breath before those same hands moved lower to pull your skirt up. Your legs spread, and he almost jumped, the sight of your slick dripping ever so slightly a pure taunt that he wanted to follow through. But your hand moved down to rub your clit, and he groaned. 

You were driving him fucking insane. He could have pumped his cock a bit harder and come, but why the fuck would he when your wet heat was right there? He wanted it, and you, and your tantalizing scent and sensual moans, and—

It was so subtle he almost missed it. While one hand worked your clit and another had fun gripping your chest, your head fell back to breathe heavily, and your feet dangled in his direction before settling. It might have been nothing, but he didn’t need much; he rolled the chair forward slowly, almost imperceptibly. When he was close, he reached his free hand to brush your shin, and you let him. You raised your foot to his lap, and it was all he needed to hold onto you.

He grabbed your leg, tracing it up to settle it, and soon did the same to the other. Then, he didn’t know what happened, only that he was hungry. He touched up your leg, feeling your outer thigh and leaning forward in doing so. This prompted you to breathe heavily and lean into him too, reaching for his head in a familiar motion that had him jumping at the opportunity to finally lick your chest.

You supported the back of his head as he buried his face between your tits, licking and nibbling your flesh mindlessly. Your bra was in the way, so he pulled it down bluntly to access your nipples, and you whimpered. Your breathing was ragged as he suckled, refusing to stop his bites even when you pulled on his hair.

His hand was hitting yours with each pump around his cock, but it only riled him up more. You weren’t stopping, as crazed as him with all that lust. This certainty relaxed him, and when you pulled his head again, he let you guide it.

He found your neck and sucked viciously, groaning into it and trying not to come. You had a scent to you, which mixed with every sweet whimper, made it hard to not find a way to shove himself deep into your embrace. Instead, he focused on kissing and nuzzling up your jaw, and you whimpered, grabbing the hair at the back of his head, but not to turn him away.

You pulled him closer, and his lips grazed the corner of your mouth. He slowed, tentatively leaning to reach the same spot, and you left him despite your hold on him. He nuzzled your cheek and tried again, and you almost met his mouth, and it was the breaking point. You lost your patience and pulled him in to crash your mouths together, pushing your tongue between his lips to create a wild struggle.

Kissing you was everything he thought it was — feral, spicy, dangerous, and sweet. Your tongue was aggressive, mapping his mouth like you owned him, and fighting you back was addictive. He matched you with savage licks, pressing himself hard to you until you needed both hands to grab him close, and so did he.

He grabbed your hair between his fingers, keeping you locked in his kiss, while the other pulled you flush to him. You were breathless but unrelenting, and he shared in that hunger, licking and nipping your lip at the slightest chance. 

Your legs wrapped around him, and his cock brushed your core, reminding you there was a way to make it all derail, and you took it. You felt the gun on his shoulder holster pressing to your inner thigh, but it only made you throb and want it harder. He had felt the knife on your garter and had left it there, too. You could use it, and that was part of the thrill. He could use it too, or his gun, or his beautiful long fingers around your neck, and you gushed between your legs. 

You scrambled between savage kisses to grab his cock and aim it straight at your core, and he tried getting rid of his pants. Yoongi could do all that, but he wouldn’t, and the power it gave you was inebriating. He was also an agent of the law, someone you despised on principle, which made the way he fucked you so much sweeter. Like two polar opposites, you were drawn to be filled by his cock and use your nails on the back of his neck and shoulders to press him to you.

He groaned into your mouth, opening his eyes to see the way your face scrunched up in pleasure. He’d never admit it, but it was enough to drive him to his knees. You were beautiful but looked preciously delicate when the pleasure he gave you loosened all the control you had.

He snapped his hips to push himself further, and you groaned, grabbing his ass cheeks. You were lost as he moved, letting your mouth hang open as he kissed you all over your face and jaw. He also needed to get used to your tight walls challenging his control.

But once he did, he grabbed your hair and pulled it, forcing your chin to raise and your eyes to meet. You clenched around him, and it was the last straw.

“I’ll show you,” he grunted before supporting a hand on your lower back.

It was all he needed to start fucking you without a preamble, and you closed your eyes and let him take over. His grip on you as he pounded into you gave you the liberty to let go and just feel him. He groaned near your ear as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and it was enough to melt you, reveling in the way he used you so well. You didn’t know how a cop could fuck this fucking good, but—

“Boss! You need to—”

“Out!” You shouted, trying to look back at whoever dared to enter your office without fucking knocking, so you knew who to mess up after this. Yoongi hid further in your neck, but he didn’t stop, thank fuck. “Get the fuck out!”

Whoever it was slammed the door closed quickly, and you almost lost your shit. The fucking audacity—

“Nuh-uh,” the grip in your hair forced you to meet his eyes, your fire facing the cool in his dark eyes. “I’m fucking you right now.”

You clenched around him, and a squeeze of his hand around the back of your neck pulled you down to earth. He felt good, too good. Maybe that was why you were on edge, ready to explode in every direction.

He wanted your focus completely on him, and you melting into him wasn’t enough. He released your neck and slid his hand between your bodies, leaning back to change his angle so he could rub your clit, and you jolted. You peered at him between hooded eyes, only to let your head fall back with a deep groan.

He chuckled as you leaned back to take him deeper, trembling with how good it felt. He loved that look on your face.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his grip on your hip so hard, his fingers dug divots into your skin. “So fucked out.”

You looked down and moaned breathlessly, and he could relate. His shaft was glistening, disappearing inside you in a blur as he pistoned into you, and he almost lost composure.

“You’re creaming my cock,” he taunted, slowing down and seeing how you bit your lip and wishing it was him instead. “So fucking greedy.”

“Shut up, you’re one to talk,” your voice wavered, and he laughed. You were upset because his hips slowed, but his fingers circling your clit didn’t. He could see the way you breathed was ragged, an inch away from your climax, and it was the power trip he was looking for.

He smirked, “You’re right, I’m greedy.”

He reached your arms to pull them around his neck, then held your waist down before jump-starting things again. Your legs wrapped around him, and the moans instantly poured from your lips when he restarted rutting into you. You could feel it in all the right spots, especially when your clit ground on him with every thrust. The speed was hallucinating, but it wasn’t the most important. Yoongi deserved a medal for managing to stuff you with his cock while humping your clit consistently. At the lack of one, you tried to kiss him, and he bit you. You whimpered, licking your lip to check for blood while he effectively crushed you to him so he could fuck you senseless.

You couldn’t explain it, but it was all you needed — consistency, an anchor, and the fucking duality of that cop drilling you to oblivion. Finally, when your orgasm sparked, you sank your nails into his shoulders and screamed, and he only embraced you tighter, as if holding onto you. Him grounding you only accelerated your climax; you were like the fuse of a firework, consumed in a split second.

You writhed in his arms as the height of pleasure shook you, but he pressed you down on his cock as if to feel every throb around him. His groan followed closely after, adding a second pulse deep inside you to your clenching. You stopped breathing so you could feel it and hear him, hooked on everything. His damp skin under your lips, his chest heaving against yours, his fingers indenting the flesh of your ass — every sensation contributed to an afterglow that was more sparkly.

So when he pulled back to look at you, with flushed cheeks, disgruntled hair, and the absolutely most exquisite face you had ever seen, you laughed. 

He wasn’t bothered and stayed still while you threw your head back and let the laughter shake your shoulders, “We probably fucked up all my paperwork.”

He looked down and noticed the papers under your ass. Considering how wet you were and how he had just pumped you full of cum, it was safe to say you were right.

“I’ll help you,” he said before he could think, pulling away. 

You groaned quietly, then jumped to your feet, unbothered by the way you were so close, there was barely any air between you two. “Don’t worry, take your time.”

You walked away and composed your clothes and hair casually as he tucked his dick back inside his pants with his eyes trained on you.

“I need to handle whatever that was,” you said, pointing at the door. Then, you tapped his jacket on the chair with a crooked smile, “Don’t forget your jacket.”

You left without as much as a wave, and he heaved a deep breath. There you went again—

He glanced down and recognized a name on one of your papers. He made sure you weren’t at the door, then took a closer look, and his breath caught.