I Love This

I love this 🥺

Pretend

Yoongi and you hate each other, but sometimes you pretend not to. A Vows prequel. Read the rest here.

Pairing: Yoongi x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Arranged marriage AU, smut

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit sex and swearing

@augustbutwinter this is what I meant!!

You hadn’t expected to find yourself walking along the pier with Yoongi after dinner at his friend Minho’s seafood restaurant, but here you are.

Your husband is beautifully dressed as always, in a dark shirt and slacks that fit him perfectly. He’s got earrings in tonight. They always make you a little feral for him. 

Not that you’d ever tell him that. 

The salty breeze ruffles his hair. He couldn’t look more enticing if he tried.

Until he opens his mouth. 

‘Couldn’t you have at least tried some of the food he cooked?’ he asks. His tone is flat, his brow creased with the annoyance he’s been likely holding back all evening. 

You cringe inwardly at your behaviour. 

It’s true, you’d been especially awful tonight. You’re surprised he’s still talking to you, you’d be apoplectic in his place.

Yoongi had taken you to meet his friend Minho, a charming and talented chef, at a hot new seafood restaurant in a gorgeous location near the coast. 

You’d not registered it was a seafood restaurant until you’d got in the car. 

You’re allergic to prawns, and in switching out your bags, you’d forgotten to put your epi-pen in your bag for tonight.

You would have, should have told Yoongi, but he’d said, as you entered the restaurant, something flippant about being on your best behaviour, and you’d seen red. 

By the time the second prawn course came round, it was too late to say anything.

You’d eaten what you could, carefully avoiding the prawns until Yoongi had asked if the meal wasn’t to your liking.

Which is when you’d made your second mistake. 

‘I grew up near the coast, we only got the freshest seafood,’ you’d answered.

The look Yoongi had given you had honestly made you feel pretty small. 

The meal had been unsalvageable after that. 

You’d thanked Minho as profusely as you could, but there was no hiding that you’d eaten barely anything.

You’re thinking of what to say back to Yoongi when you approach the entry gates of a fun fair. 

Your skin’s still itching from the broth, you can’t think of anything worse than getting back in the car. 

‘Can we go to the fun fair?’ you ask Yoongi. 

He looks at the gates, the bright lights, and then back at you. 

‘You want to go to the fun fair.’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘I’ve got a few phone calls to make. I’ll wait in the car.’ 

You guess it would have been weirder if he’d actually wanted to go anywhere with you after your performance at dinner. 

You buy yourself some cotton candy to fill the hollow in your stomach, but you still feel a little empty.

You'd spent your teenage years working hard, always aware that you’d be working for your father’s company one day, not wanting to let him down.

You’d agreed to the arranged marriage to make your parents happy, too naive to fathom all the consequences of being married to someone you don’t know. 

Where does that leave you?

Covered in hives from trying to eat something you’re allergic to, so hungry that you’re on your second ball of cotton candy, and alone at a fun fair on a Friday night.

That’s not even counting the irritated husband waiting for you in the car.

You don’t want to keep him waiting long, so you resolve to try one game and maybe pick up some popcorn for you to share.

You scratch absently at a welt on your arm as you consider your options. 

You consider hooking a duck but your coordination is a little off from the wine you had on an empty stomach.

You shudder at the idea of a strength game.

Finally, you spot tin cans stacked on top of each other. It looks easy enough. 

Your first throw of the ball goes wild, not even touching any cans, much less knocking anything over.

Your second go makes the tin can at the very top of the pyramid wobble.

Your third go knocks a can over, not enough to win a prize.

Irritated, you’re turning away when you hear the familiar rumble of Yoongi’s voice. 

Your head turns so fast you make yourself dizzy. 

Yoongi’s next to you, weighing the balls in his hands as he lines himself up. He completely ignores you, even though you’re staring at him so hard your eyes hurt.

Yoongi knocks over an entire stack of cans in two throws.

The man behind the counter offers him a choice from the top shelf, which is when he turns to you, still gaping at him like you’ve never seen him before.

‘Which one do you want?’ he asks. 

You’re still looking at him, so he says, gently, ‘from the shelf. Which one?’

You close your mouth and look at your options carefully.

You plump for a stuffed kitten with a bell around its neck. Its black fur and sleepy eyes remind you of Yoongi.

You’re just opening your mouth to tell him that when you realise he’s walking off without you. 

‘Wait,’ you say, nearly tripping over in your haste to catch up with him. 

He turns, raising an eyebrow.

‘Can I get popcorn? Then we can go,’ you say.

Yoongi waits in line with you to get popcorn. 

‘What do you like?’ you ask, as you approach the counter. 

‘Unlike you, I had dinner so I’m not hungry,’ he snaps.

You guess you deserve that.

You end up choosing both sweet and salty, and are fishing some money out of your pocket to pay when you realise Yoongi’s paid for you. 

Wordlessly, he holds out a hand. 

You start to hand him the popcorn, and he rolls his eyes. ‘The cat.’

You hand him the cat, freeing up your hands to eat. 

‘It’s a kitten,’ you feel the need to point out. 

Yoongi doesn’t even look down at it. 

‘Do you want some popcorn?’ you offer, forgetting he’d chastised you a second ago when you asked him what flavour he wanted.

He’s still looking at you when you pick a big fluffy looking kernel up and bring it to his lips. 

He opens his mouth, and you feed him the popcorn. His tongue flicks at your fingertip for the briefest instant. 

Your giggle is completely involuntary. 

Yoongi looks like he’s about to smile then, just before he turns away. 

You walk the rest of the way back to Yoongi’s car in silence.

You must fall asleep on the ride home, because you jerk awake to Yoongi parking the car in the garage. 

‘Sorry,’ you say, groggy, disoriented. ‘I meant to keep you company.’

Yoongi says nothing, cutting the engine and getting out of his side. 

You enter the darkened house together, following Yoongi up the stairs.

Yoongi doesn’t stop at your door, you hadn’t expected him to, but you can’t let the night end like this. 

‘Yoongi,’ you say, hurrying to catch up. 

He stops so suddenly you nearly run into him.

He turns to face you. 

‘I hope you’re not expecting me to fuck you after your behaviour tonight,’ he says. 

The coldness in his voice stings even though you know you deserve it. 

‘No, I just wanted to thank you,’ you say. ‘For this.’ 

You hold up your kitten.

‘And for the popcorn. And the company. It was like a real date.’

You turn and head back to your room before you say anything even more stupid.

You brush your teeth and do your skincare routine and snuggle into bed, holding the stuffed cat that reminds you so much of your prickly enigma of a husband.

You fall asleep to the thrill you feel that Min Yoongi won a prize for you at a carnival. You know it’s silly, but it makes you happy anyway. 

***

You haven’t seen Yoongi all week, but you keep thinking about your date on Friday, cherishing the little burst of happiness you feel when you remember how he came to find you at the carnival, how he let you feed him popcorn. 

It’s that fondness that drives you to drop by his office as a surprise one afternoon, laden with a carton of the sweet and salty popcorn mix he likes and a stuffed bear that had taken you most of the morning to win for him.

You’ve been thinking so fondly of him it’d never even occurred to you that he might not be remembering that night the same way you’ve been.

You’re waiting in the chairs outside his secretary’s office after lunch when he comes in. He’s not alone, accompanied by Kim Seokjin and Park Gyuri. He’s laughing at something Seokjin’s said, and with a pang you realise you’ve never seen him laugh like that with you.

He looks happier than he’s ever looked with you, now that you’re looking at him like this.

The guarded expression that drops onto his face when he sees you could break your heart if you had any real feelings for him.

But of course you don’t. He’s just familiar because you’re married. 

Of course.

His eyes fall to the items in your arms. You wish you’d taken the time to change into something nicer before showing up at his office.

He and his two friends look stunning together.

You call upon your lifetime of privilege to give you confidence. ‘I just came by to give you this,’ you say, holding out the popcorn to him. 

He accepts, and then looks at the bear in your arms. 

‘Did you go to the fun fair again?’ he asks. 

There’s amusement in his voice, but here, with his beautiful successful friends in his beautiful office, it sounds more like he’s laughing at you than with you.

‘Yes,’ you say. Your voice is too high, all wrong.. ‘I’ll see you later, Yoongi.’

You leave his office mortified, face burning. 

You’re such an idiot. You’d let your foolish heart over romanticize what had probably been nothing to Yoongi. He’s older, more experienced than you in almost everything. 

And you’re just the woman he was forced to marry. You hadn’t chosen him, and you have a tendency to forget that he hadn’t chosen you, either. 

Thankfully the cab arrives quickly. You’re halfway home when you realise you’re still clutching the bear.

You look at its fluffy face and make a decision. 

You lean forward and tap on the glass partition separating you and the driver. 

‘I’ve changed my mind. Can you take me to the airport instead?’

***

Two months later

You open the door of your maisonette in Geneva to see your husband, the last person you’d expected to see. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, eyes drinking you in like you’re water and he’s just trekked through the Sahara.  

He’s thinner than you remember, more tired-looking. 

He’s stunning. You’re surprised by the wave of emotion you feel. 

You hate him, but God, you think you’ve missed him too. 

He stands very still. 

‘Just -’ 

His voice cracks on the word. ‘Just please can we pretend we don’t hate each other for a minute.’ 

‘I don’t hate you, Yoongi,’ you tell him. 

He hasn’t moved, so you step forward and put your arms around him. 

The black overcoat he’s wearing is cold under your bare arms, but his neck, under your lips, is warm. 

He nudges your jaw with his nose, tilting your face up so he can kiss you.

It’s sweet, warm, exquisite. 

He pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. 

‘Before you kick me out,’ he murmurs. ‘I’ve missed you.’ 

Your hands are up, curling around the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer even though he hasn’t moved away. 

‘Stay, Yoongi,’ you say, and now you’re the one pleading. 

He nods. ‘Whatever you want.’ 

****

The newness of seeing Yoongi sitting in your little kitchen is intoxicating. You can feel happiness bubbling through you every time you sneak a glance at him, as you cook. 

He flicks his gaze at you. 

‘I’ve finished cutting the carrots,’ he says. 

He gets up and drops the sliced carrots into your pot. 

His forearm brushes against yours. 

You smile at him, and your heart warms when he smiles back. 

You want to ask him why he’s here, why he bothered to come and find you if not to yell at you. 

You want to ask him how he’s been.

You’re worried that if you talk about anything of substance that you’ll slide back to the way things are broken between you. 

Yoongi nudges you. ‘Nice shorts,’ he says. 

You stare at him in surprise. Is he smirking? 

Is your estranged husband flirting with you? 

His gaze is steady. You can see why Min Yoongi is notorious for the trail of broken hearts he’s left behind. 

The thought sobers you, but not enough. 

‘They’re silk,’ you say, feigning innocence. ‘The material is very soft, want to feel?’ 

You tug his hand over your ass cheek. 

‘Soft, right?’ you ask. 

Yoongi’s gaze darkens as his hand cups your ass. His fingers reach over the centre seam of your shorts. ‘Are you wearing underwear?’ he asks. 

‘Check for yourself,’ you breathe. 

Yoongi looks down at your face, eyes serious. 

‘Is this what you want?’ he asks.

‘Well, I like Kim Seokjin, but you’ll have to do,’ you say, unable to resist. 

Yoongi’s laugh is husky. ‘I forgot what a brat you are.’ 

‘And I forgot how fucking mean you are,’ you reply, stepping into his arms. 

Yoongi scoffs. ‘You like it.’ 

You’ll never admit it, but you do. 

Yoongi’s hand is still on your ass, cupping, squeezing, fingertips curling under the material of your shorts to the bare skin underneath.

‘No panties?’ he breathes, looking to you for confirmation.

You spread your legs a little, just enough so Yoongi can slide his hand in between them.

‘Yoongi,’ you say, as he cups your cunt. 

Yoongi’s busying himself tugging your shorts down. 

He slips them over your thighs, down to your ankles, kneeling in front of you.

He stays there. 

His hands slide over your bare ass, pushing you forward into his face.

His tongue slides over your folds, and you cry his name.

‘Have you been touching yourself, here?’ Yoongi asks, open mouthed, over your cunt. His fingers tighten over your ass, and you realise he’s waiting for an answer. 

‘Yes,’ you admit, and Yoongi groans. 

‘I bet your fingers don’t feel as good as my tongue,’ he says. He nudges your clit with his nose, tongue lapping at you.

You’d annoyed by his cockiness, but you’d be more annoyed if it weren’t true. 

Yoongi takes your silence as brattiness. 

He gets up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘Show me your bed,’ he says.

You take him to your bedroom.

‘Take your clothes off,’ Yoongi says, sitting on your bed like he belongs there.

He looks so fucking good you could cry.

You look down at yourself. Your bottom half is bare, your inner thighs sticky with your own arousal. 

You look at him as you lift your silky camisole over your head. You’re not wearing anything underneath.

Yoongi looks at you, so much heat in his gaze you feel like you’re burning up. 

His hand curls over himself, outlining his hardness. The sight makes your mouth water.

‘Show me how you touched yourself,’ Yoongi says, voice low.

You’re self-conscious at first, but you’re reaching the point where you’re too turned on to care. You know Yoongi will reward you for doing as he says. 

He always does.

You slip a hand between your thighs, pressing against your throbbing clit. 

Yoongi reaches out and pulls you closer, between his legs. He licks between your fingers, then pulls you down onto the bed. His fingers press between yours, sliding into you. 

‘This is better isn’t it?’ he asks, fingers stroking inside you. 

You bite your lip. 

Yoongi laughs. ‘Really?’ he asks, taunting. ‘You’re still going to be a brat?’ 

He curls his fingers, and it takes everything inside you not to grind against his palm. 

‘You’re gonna be a brat after I came halfway across the world to make sure you were all right?’ 

He’s moving his fingers faster now, thumb flicking over your clit. You can both hear how wet you are. 

‘You’re gonna be a brat after I’ve been worrying about you all these months?’ 

The moan spills from your lips before you can stop it. 

‘You’re gonna be a brat when I’m so fucking hard for you I could spill in your face right now?’ 

You can’t help yourself, the pleasure is building so fast you’re going to come all over him. 

Yoongi slaps your clit with his free hand, and you cry his name as you cum. 

You close your eyes, and you see stars, galaxies, fireworks, the whole fucking universe with Min Yoongi’s fingers inside you. 

He doesn’t stop, and you don’t want him to. 

Your hand reaches out, and he grabs it, curling it around his cock. His hardness feels so good you could cry. 

His cock inside you feels like it’s filling an emptiness you hadn’t known was there. 

‘Yoongi,’ you murmur, touching his cheek. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. 

You curl your fingers into his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. You swallow his deep moan as he thrusts. 

He fucks you like he wants to hurt you, and you meet him thrust for thrust, tilting your hips, taking him deeper. 

He’s so fucking beautiful like this, sweaty, flushed, mouth open on your skin. 

You’ve missed the weight of him. 

You press kisses to his neck, lapping at his skin, and he groans. 

‘I’ve missed you,’ you tell him. 

Yoongi’s eyes snap to yours, and you realise he’s cumming. The hand he has wrapped around your wrist tightens, almost painfully, and his hips grind against yours. Then he stills, dropping down on top of you, burying his face in your neck. 

You don’t ever want him to let you go. 

***

You wake up to Yoongi lying on his back. He’s rolled a little away from you so you aren’t touching at all. 

The distance between you is inches at most, but it feels insurmountable all the same. 

He’s looking at the overstuffed armchair in a corner of your bedroom, at the fluffy bear on it.

‘You brought that to my office,’ he observes. 

‘Seventy five thousand won,’ you say. 

He turns his face towards yours. 

‘You bought that, for me?’ he asks. He’s looking at you intently. 

You consider lying, but only for an instant. 

‘I won it. Fair and square,’ you say. You pause, then you say, ‘I won it for you.’ 

It looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. 

You get up and grab the t-shirt he was wearing, slipping it on. 

‘Come on, let’s have dinner.’ 

***

Yoongi’s phone keeps ringing. 

‘Is it the apocalypse?’ you ask. 

Yoongi’s looking at his screen. ‘If you’d told me before you left me, I wouldn’t have had to come here at this time,’ he says, not looking at you. 

‘How did you find me?’ you ask, curious. 

‘Nara,’ he says. ‘Don’t blame her. I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.’ 

You could never blame your loyal best friend for anything. ‘I hope you compensated her,’ you say, shrugging. 

‘But why did you come all the way here, if you’re so busy?’ you ask. 

Yoongi gets up. ‘Honestly? I wanted to spank you.’ 

You look up at him. ‘But you didn’t.’ 

‘I haven’t yet,’ Yoongi agrees. 

‘When are you leaving?’ you ask. 

‘Tomorrow,’ he replies. He puts his phone down on your coffee table. ‘Ready for your spanking now?’ 

‘Panties on or off?’ you ask, seriously. 

Yoongi chokes on his own saliva. ‘Jesus fucking christ.’ 

‘Off,’ you decide. You get up and head for the bedroom. 

He’s on you before you even make it to your bed. 

****

You pick up the fluffy bear you won for Yoongi and join him in your living room. 

‘Here, don’t forget to pack this.’ 

Yoongi looks at you, incredulous. ‘That’ll take up my entire bag.’ 

‘I won it for you,’ you point out. 

Yoongi watches as you sit, gingerly, on the edge of the couch with his bear. 

‘How’s your ass?’ he asks. 

‘You’re stronger than you look,’ you say, rolling your eyes. 

‘You make me so mad sometimes,’ he tells you. 

There’s a serious note in his voice that makes you look at him properly. 

‘You make me mad too, Yoongi.’ 

‘I know.’ 

He sighs. ‘Is this how it’s going to be now? You run away instead of talking to me about whatever’s bothering you?’ 

You don’t know what to say. 

‘It’s childish,’ he says. 

‘Yeah,’ you agree. 

It is childish. Like wanting to go to fun fairs and sleeping with the kitten he won for you and buying cotton candy. 

Somehow Yoongi’s calm, reasonable tone makes you feel even worse. 

‘Wake me up when you leave, ok?’ you say. 

***

You wake up to early morning sunshine streaming through your window. 

You sit up instantly, Yoongi’s name out of your mouth before you’ve even opened your eyes fully. 

Has he missed his flight? He’d told you he was leaving early. 

Yoongi’s name echoes through your empty apartment, and you realise he’s left. 

You get out of bed and go to the living room. It’s empty. His shoes are gone. 

There’s no trace he was ever there. 

If there wasn’t a residual soreness to your ass you’d question if he was ever here with you. 

When you go back to your bedroom you realise two things. 

Firstly, your bear is missing. 

Secondly, there’s a stack of Yoongi’s t-shirts on your armchair. 

You pick up the top one, and a slip of paper floats to the floor. On it, printed in Yoongi’s spiky handwriting: 

You seem to like wearing my clothes. 

He hasn’t written anything else. It’s so typically him you can’t help but smile. 

You wish you’d had a chance to say goodbye. 

You pick up one of Yoongi’s t-shirts, press it to your face and inhale. 

It’s a poor substitute for the real thing. 

***

You’re tidying up your bedroom the next day when Yoongi calls. 

‘You didn’t say goodbye,’ you say, accusing. 

‘You looked tired,’ Yoongi replies. 

He’s lying on his bed, and it’s so dark you can barely see. 

‘Hey,’ he says, ‘I know we don’t chat, but I wanted to know what this bear’s name is.’ 

You can feel warmth spreading in your chest at the confirmation that he took his bear with him. 

‘He doesn’t have a name,’ you reply. ‘I’m not that childish.’ 

Yoongi says, quietly, ‘I don’t think you’re childish.’ 

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before he says, ‘I think I’m going to call him Popcorn.’ 

You can’t hide your smile. 

‘Maybe we can go to a fun fair when you come back,’ he says. ‘You are coming back, aren’t you?’ 

You still can’t see his face, and you wish you could. 

‘I’m coming back,’ you tell him. 

He says, ‘Good. I’ll tell Mrs Gye not to give your things to charity just yet.’ 

You shrug. ‘Give my things away. I’ll just wear your clothes.’ 

His laughter rumbles through the phone. 

‘I’m going to sleep. Good night, Y/N.’ 

‘Good night, Yoongi.’ 

You’re about to hang up when he says, ‘hey.’ 

‘What now?’ you ask. 

‘Take as much time as you need.’ 

His words bring a lump to your throat.

There’s so much you want to say, but you settle for, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back to annoy you soon enough.’ 

He asks, ‘how’s your ass?’ 

‘Missing you,’ you say, the words coming out before you have a chance to edit them. 

‘Good.’ 

‘Do you miss me?’ you ask. 

‘Not really,’ Yoongi replies. 

‘Yeah, I guess you fly around the world for just anyone,’ you say. 

‘Good night, Y/N,’ Yoongi says. He sounds exasperated, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes you think he’s not that annoyed with you. 

‘Night.’ 

©hamsterclaw 2022

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