The Vows - Tumblr Posts

over and over again

pairing - kaeya alberich x gender neutral reader

word count - 4307

genre - fluff

format - fic

warnings - kissing/skinship, sharing a bed with no sexual implications, kaeya spins reader around in his arms, food mention, semi-nudity (kaeya sleeps shirtless), marriage

summary - there's a first for everything but the butterflies in his stomach will never fade whether you kiss him for the first, second, tenth, or hundredth time

a/n - happy new years everyone! WOOO FIRST POST OF 2022!! this piece is my contribution to @favoniuscodex 's "favorites with friends" event! i'll jump at any chance to write for my beloved kaeya, and though i'm sad i didn't get to write him the birthday fic spectacular i wanted to, i think this makes up for it in my little writer heart :P i hope you enjoy!

" I'M A MAN WHO'D KNOW NO HAPPINESS WITHOUT YOUR SMILE, OR LOVE WITHOUT YOUR KISSES "

the first time kaeya alberich kissed you, it was a melancholic, rainy day full of raging tides and crackling thunder.

he had only meant to test the waters; see just beneath your skin and observe the way your heart pounded in your chest whenever he strutted by with a wink and a blown kiss in your direction. but, instead, the tides had risen and engulfed him with sweet fervor and though his lungs craved the comfort of oxygen; of a no-strings-attached little game, he ceded to the sugary depths of your ocean's bellow and allowed himself to drown within your everything.

one date turned to two, then ten, and suddenly he wasn't keeping track any more because time seemed to fizzle off into specks of sparkling gold by your side, and in that moment of sweet prolonged brevity did he realize the hold you had on his shipwrecked heart.

it was a thundering day when he finally put his lips on yours for the first time. the recipe for disaster entailed: one rainstorm, one picnic-gone-wrong, two rain-soaked, giggling adults who ran hand-in-hand back to the gates of mondstat, and a stone archway where you brushed his damp locks from his face with a smile and he tried his best not to let his eyes wander down your sheer clothing. what should've been innocent touches and fleeting glances slowly began to bud into lingering touches and he had leaned in almost instinctually like a rehearsed habit before he even realized it. and never before had he tasted a flavor more sweeter than the smothered smile that he felt curve up against his lips, or your honey giggles muffled by the gentle dance of your intertwined lips. it's a sweet song that drowned out the hammer of the rain and crackle of lightning that zipped across the sky.

"say," he muttered just as his lips were about to meet yours, "this is quite cliché is it not? two young lovers caught in the rain for a kiss? you'll indulge me, won't you, sweetheart? or are you perhaps too shy of how good i might make you feel?" he purred with a droopy smile and thumbed the apples of your cheeks.

"oh shut it," the exasperated smile on your face grew as you tugged him impossibly closer and brushed your nose against his, "less talking, more kissing, pretty boy."

kissing was nothing new: nothing grand or revolutionary or anything that would shatter through the glass panes of his reality. at least, that was what he thought before his lips had pressed themselves so firm yet gently against your own and your hands, which wrung themselves around his neck, raked through his damp locks and ignited a dance of swans in his heart.

even after he pulled away from your lips and caressed every inch of your face with his calloused palm, he never truly ever pulled away ever again: for you were his sweet siren who sang tales of starcrossed lovers and destined fate, and he was a mere sailor who loved and loved and loved and jumped ship without hesitation.

continued utc!

" YOU'VE SHOWN ME WHAT LOVE IS—WHAT LOVE COULD BE IN ALL ITS INTRICACIES AND MIRACLES, AND I'LL MAKE IT MY LIFE'S MISSION TO REMIND YOU EACH AND EVERY DAY OF HOW MUCH I CHERISH THE GIFT OF LOVE YOU'VE GIVEN ME "

love is a tricky sea of uncertainty that requires a compass crafted of patience and a telescope forged out of understanding. but love, as he knew it, was not patient, kind, or understanding.

but you were.

patient was your heart which thundered so gently for him; every bit of him from the scalding portraits of firey flames on his body to the thick, coarse, wiry branches that engulfed his shielded heart. patient were the tips of your fingers, which brushed against his and never asked for more than he could ever give (because what he had was finally enough). patient were your lips that melded so sweetly against his and uttered words of unaltered affection bathed in a thick, rosy red glaze.

you understood that you could never truly understand a man like kaeya alberich and yet despite this your arms wrapped around his waist with no hesitation in sight, and you'd look at him as if his scarred and bruised hands were the glorious hands which hung the crescent moon and her glittering stars.

and the kindness that spread and branched out from your back like clouded, fluffy angel wings and engulfed him in their warmth; oh how kind your embrace was; how lovely it was to be peppered with kisses and bathe in your words of sweet love and adoration, or let you kiss the tip of his nose whenever you'd drop off a neatly packed box of a homemade lunch to his office.

he had lost his compass and had his telescope ripped from his trembling, young hands: but you forged new ones bonded of the strongest metals and utmost care and placed them in front of him: you allowed him to grab onto his navigation tools at his own pace, and with eyes unclouded by grief and fury and tools crafted of warmth, sunny days, and the smell of sunflowers did he finally set course for the treasure chest of your heart aboard his sturdy ship.

his compass guided his heart in the direction of yours, and with his telescope he spotted a shore line of a sandy beach where you sat with an armful of blossoming calla lilies and a gentle smile, waiting for his ship to finally dock.

and with these tools did he finally utter the single greatest three words known to all.

shoes and socks discarded and ankles deep in the sloshing, crystal waters of cider lake at the cusp of sunset was where kaeya alberich took both of your hands within his and first murmured a dream against your fingertips.

"say it again." you asked.

and he did. he said it louder, and louder, and louder, until he was screaming at the top of his lungs and spinning you around in the water until both of your clothes were damp and his voice was hoarse and throat sore and the air was filled with your mingled giggles and love-bathed gazes.

"well, are you satiated, sweetheart? or do i need to run my voice into the ground a little more?" that familiar boyish smile of his creeped onto his face as he cupped your face within his hands and thumbed your cheeks just as he did on the day he first got a taste of your lips, "though, if it's for you i wouldn't mind all that much." he murmured against the inside of your wrist as he picked up your hand within his own and peppered kisses all the way up to just beneath your earlobe, where you shivered in his arms and relished in his touch no gentler than the drop of a feather.

perhaps you were living the same dream when you whispered an "i love you too," against his lips, and let him lead you in a water-bathed waltz to the tune of rolling tides and cooing evening doves.

" I CAN'T PROMISE YOU MUCH, BECAUSE EVEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS; BUT I KNOW THAT SHOULD I LOSE MY WAY, MY HOME WILL ALWAYS BE IN YOUR ARMS "

home was within your arms, and you were never quite far.

according to his subordinates, their captain had gone "soft", but how could one not want to melt into the side of their love and feel them merge into their embrace? perhaps he was "soft", but softness was a sweet aria that sounded like you and he was an avid listener.

his duties bound him to work, but once finished you often expected him to be on your doorstep with an armful of your favorite flowers and a promise of a stroll around a rolling hill or two. bit by bit his clothes began to pile up in your closet, and yours his. he'd forgotten his scarf—slung over one of your dining room chairs—after a night spent humming gentle melodies and swaying in each other's arms while skewers of fruity chicken grilled on the stove and a tray of cupcakes baked in the oven (not to mention all the frosting he must have kissed off of your lips). you returned it the next day and draped it over his shoulder like a veil: he loved that it smelled like home because it smelled like the sweetness of the cupcakes you both had baked last night.

"kaeya! i thought i told you no spoon licking!"

despite being caught, he eyed you the second time his tongue scraped over the wooden spoon and collected the sweetness of the chocolate frosting into his mouth, complete with a satisfied hum. "my condolences, dove, but you must know by now that i'm simply insatiable when it comes to sweets." he chuckled and lurched his hand containing the spoon upwards just as you lunged forwards to grab it out of his hand.

"gimme the spoon, you big oaf!"

but that was the last thing he wanted to do; looking at the little furrow of your eyebrows and seeing you try to come off as angry but give in to the bursting bubble of giggles that wiggled up from your stomach made his heart flutter and glow a beautiful, pearlescent pink.

his free arm wrapped itself around your waist and pulled your flush against his chest, effectively silencing your attempts to regain the spoon and your giggly protests.

"won't you let me satiate my sweet tooth with just a little taste of you, dove?" he hummed against the shell of your ear.

of course he didn't mean the spoon—in fact he tossed it into the sink to hold the back of your head as soon as you closed the gap between your faces and let his sweet tooth indulge in all the sugary sweetness of your kisses.

his house was bathed in your glow: from little trinkets of yours that you had brought and put on his shelves because they suited him—according to you at least—(like the little trail of wooden duckies that shrunk in size the more they went down his shelf), to the now worn-in softness of his couch, once firm and hard from disuse.

there were imprints of your existences within both of your homes but he felt that there was never a need to ask you of anything more: what he had now was comfortable and safe. you existed in every crevice of his home, and how he dreamt so many nights of waking up in the morning to the smell of savory pancakes and coffee, and wrapping his arms around your waist and planting his chin firm on your shoulder while you flipped more of the delicacies.

he loved to surprise you—loved seeing the glimmer of your eyes when they lit up in excitement when his hands unraveled to reveal the prize beneath his skin: whether it was an invitation on a kaeya-esque date that involved mock pirate treasure hunts or a simple picnic in a field of flowers, or even just a little kiss, you loved it all and he loved you.

so with a heart bursting of desires for your hands to gently comb through his morning bedhead and for your clothes to hang neatly beside his in his closet, he looped a necklace with a perfect, bronze copy of his apartment key around your neck and kissed the back of your nape to utter silent words straight down your spine.

"you're always around, so i figured i'd gift you a little something to make my place easier for you to get into. you're the only burglar that i'd welcome with open arms, sweetheart." he chose to ignore the gentle, chiding slap on his forearm as he hugged you from behind and toyed with the metal key that now hung from your neck.

imagine his surprise when you, in turn, knocked him off his feet to the ground in a hug and produced a key similar to the one to your house from your pocket, made in a similar fashion to the necklace he had looped around your neck.

" I LOOK FORWARD TO ALL THE MORNINGS THAT I GET TO WAKE UP BY YOUR SIDE, AND I LOOK FORWARD TO WATCHING YOU BURN BREAKFAST TOO "

there was beauty to be found in even the most mundane of activities when it concerned you.

the minute his eyes fluttered open, he was gifted with the beautiful sight of your slightly parted lips and a thin trail of drool from the corner of your mouth as you snored contently with your head nestled into the crook of his neck. morning light streamed through his (or should he say yours—but really it was both of yours) bedroom windows and bathed your intertwined bodies in a honeyed morning glow.

it was the first time he'd ever woken up next to you when light was still young and birds cooed their sunrise sonnets. his fingers couldn't help but trace paths across your face and skin. he'd pull you closer if possible but distance was nonexistent when he held you so tightly in his arms. he couldn't wait for you to rouse from your sleep; just what was that pretty little mind of yours up to in there? perhaps one day you'd tell him if he asked, and he'd be sure to respond in kind with a foxy smile and tales of grandeur of his own.

but for now he was more than content to sync the rise and fall of his chest with your own and whisper ballads of affection with a sweet rosy scent through half lidded eyes and a gentle smile.

and when you did finally pull yourself away from unconsciousness and fell through the thick clouds of your dreams to wake in his arms, his heart felt whole and full and good.

"you're staring, captain."

your finger poked his bare chest with playful intentions under your fingernail before it dissolved into a tender touch where your palm splayed over his shoulder blade and creeped upward over his skin to cup his cheek, warm from the morning light.

"i quite fancy the drool on your face, wish i had a kamera to capture this moment."

he laughed as you groaned and pressed your face into his chest to avoid his teasing coos while you hurriedly used your sleeve to wipe the trail of drool from your mouth.

"you're insufferable, i'm gonna kick you out of my bed." you grumbled even as he hummed a chuckle against your scalp and kissed the top of your head.

"our bed, sweetheart." he corrected with an impish grin.

"...'m gonna push you off." despite your words, your arms tightened around his torso and you drove your face further into his chest—presumably in search of the gentle pitter patter of his heartbeat. he couldn't bite back the smile that spread to his face as his hand traced indistinguishable patterns along the length of your spine.

"g'mornin', dove." were the words he'd waited so long to say with a voice laced in sleep, and when you replied in an equally raspy and love-drunk tune and so easily slotted your lips against his, there was no other place he'd rather be than snuggled up beside you in your shared bed where you'd forever wake up with morning doves as your alarm and feel the gentle touch of each other's fingertips wander across starstruck skin.

" EACH DAY I WAKE UP AND FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU OVER AND OVER AGAIN, AND I WILL FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU OVER AND OVER AGAIN EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE "

if there were an image that kaeya wished to burn into the back of his eyelids so that he could always remember every intricate detail and glimmering sparkle of the memory, the image of you in your wedding attire and bathed in a honeymooned glow would be his first choice.

his hands were trembling—not the kind that you'd see in a strong captain who'd braved the harsh flare of fiery flames, the cold sting of frost, or the quizzical enrapture of the stars.

his hands were trembling like they were trembling when diluc first placed a frog into his hands at the tender age of four, and kaeya—never having seen such a wonderous creature—was terrified it'd open its mouth and swallow him whole like the creatures back home could.

his hands were trembling like they were when he first picked up a sword and felt the grip of it rub against his once tender palms—now, however, they were quite callous from years of use and wear and yet your hands still caressed his as if they were made of heavenly clouds.

his hands were trembling like they were when he carried out his first campaign as cavalry captain with a shattered heart and a mask that would slip if he were not careful. his voice commanded his troops and he rode his black stallion with grace and glory and all the reverie that a captain should hold, but deep inside he feared braving the storms that awaited him—feared the ferocious endeavors that would snatch the lives of his troop, or even his.

but you knew—you knew so well just why his hands trembled. you'd seen it the minute you starting walking down the isle on the carpeted floors of the church. the white suit he adorned made him look so handsome, so sweet, the epitome of the man you'd soon swear your life to in legal binding. kaeya couldn't take his eye off of you, not from the minute you entered through the heavy, oak doors to the moment you met him at the altar and placed your hands within his own. the soothing rub of your thumbs over his knuckles had him relaxing into your touch, and the little "hi" you whispered to him made him want to do nothing but sweep you off your feet and book it out of the church and go dancing at the shorelines of lakes or read each other fairy tales on gingham picnic blankets on summer breezy days.

and though his hands continued to shake while he recited his vows, his gaze remained fixed onto you and the universe of possibilities that swam in your telescope eyes.

with a shaky breath, kaeya began:

"i'm a man who'd know no happiness without your smile, or love without your kisses."

for once there were no glittery words or phrases bathed in gold. he was terrified of being bare but to bear himself in your arms gave him the confidence he needed to declare his truth once and for in all the holiest of places in front of all those he treasured.

he was glad he lost track of how many dates you'd been on; glad that the thunderstorm that interrupted your picnic had backed the two of your into a corner so that he could finally get a taste of your lips. the day you gifted him true happiness and felt the first surge of love from your lips to his own was the day he felt reborn again; almost as if he had touched the stars and gotten a taste of cosmic dust.

"you've shown me what love is—what love could be in all its intricacies and miracles, and i'll make it my life's mission to remind you each and every day of how much i cherish the gift of love you've given me."

he wanted so badly to wipe away the tears that had begun to pool and trickle down your cheeks, sometimes running over the warbled smile on your lips.

"crying already, darling? but i've only read half of my vows." he leaned down and whispered for your only your ears. he did his best to ignore the slight crack in his voice towards the end and swiped his thumb just below your eye and kept his trembling hand pressed snug against your cheek.

"i can't promise you much, because even i don't know what the future holds; but i know that should i lose my way, my home will always be in your arms."

now it was his turn to tear up, despite how much he promised himself that he wouldn't cry. he tried to dissuade the urge to cry during his vows beforehand (because no matter how hard he tried, whenever he read those promised, sacred words, he just couldn't prevent himself from crying). but, for once, these tears weren't from a place of sorrow and grief, but rather a warm garden filled with roses and carnations and a sparkling fountain with both of your names inscribed on the shining marble. he let out a breathy, shaky laugh when you mimicked his touch and cupped his cheek within your palm to swipe away at the tears that cascaded down his face. kaeya didn't quite know if it was improper to so openly touch you beloved before you were wedded in the church, but nothing mattered more than the gentleness of your touch at the moment.

"i look forward to all the mornings that i get to wake up by your side," he started, squeezing your hand before continuing, "and i look forward to watching you burn breakfast too."

laughter rippled throughout the crowd as you choked back a joyful sob and gently knocked him in the shin with your shoe. "i'll make sure yours is burnt to a crisp, alberich." you muttered.

"what, me or you? we'll both be alberich in a minute, sweetheart." he retorted, despite the glimmer of fresh tears in his eye.

choosing to ignore the side eye of urgency that the pastor gave him, kaeya let go of your hand for a brief moment to pluck a single, blue rose from your bouquet and place it behind your ear before continuing.

"each day i wake up and fall in love with you over and over again, and i will fall in love with you over and over again every day for the rest of my life."

his hands still trembled: more than when diluc placed a frog into his hands, more than when he first knew the weight of a sword, more than when he led his first campaign. but they trembled within your own, and he knew that no matter what he'd be safe enveloped within your touch.

somewhere in the process, the pastor officiated him as your husband and those in the pews cheered, but he was far too enamored with studying every inch of your face and dipping into the pools of your eyes that never flickered away from him no matter what. when you finally cupped his cheeks and kissed him with such adoration and twinkles of starlight in your eyes, he knew that you'd always be there to hold onto his shaking hands.

kaeya knows how to dance with frost: be quick on your feet, subtle with your moves and never, ever, let the enemy get a hint of your next move.

but dancing with you for the first time as your husband was nothing like the dance of a battle of frost. it felt warm, soothing, and sweet: like the first bite of a gooey, chocolate cookie straight out of the oven. as he wrapped his arms around your waist and let you loop yours around his neck, he felt no need to adhere to the ebb and flow of noblemen footwork and fancy dance tactics. your noses brushed against one another, and he was pretty sure he was swaying with you much slower than the tempo of the song, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

the shimmering golden band that adorned his left ring finger was a reminder of his vows, both spoken and silent, and the life that he'd forge by your side as one who loves you. and as he raised your hand to press his lips to the similar ring that encased your finger, he felt a surge of determination wash over him like a gentle tide.

"hey," you murmured, and raised a hand to cup his cheek.

he hummed an acknowledgment and pressed his lips to the inside of your wrist without breaking the starry gaze that connected your eyes to his.

"i'm sure that our dance was supposed to end a little while ago." you giggled and weaved a lock of his fluffy, indigo hair through one of your fingers.

"was it now? my apologies, love, i got lost staring into your eyes."

he tastefully chose to ignore your playful eyeroll and instead zeroed in on your lips, which were moving and probably chiding him for making such a cheesy remark. as if in a trance, his hands cupped your face and tilted your head to the side for a tender kiss that felt like the first breath of spring in his veins; more dainty and gentle than the fragile petals of a soft, velvety rose. his fingers ran over the soft tips of the blue rose he had tucked behind your ear at the altar once he pulled away, all awestricken and breathless in the lungs.

there weren't any words that he needed to preach; no lord to impress, no one to woo or have them do his bidding in a game of wits. just you: you who loved him wholly and as he was for the man he knew himself to be.

the food, guests, and party can wait: because in your arms he is home and home is where he wished to forever remain.

date published: january 9th, 2022

Penance

You have nothing but the best of intentions when you whisk Yoongi away to celebrate his birthday, but somehow it doesn't work out the way you've planned.

Part of the Vows series. Read the rest here.

Pairing: Yoongi x F! Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Genre: Arranged marriage AU!, e2l, smut

Warnings: A little mild blasphemy, sex, swearing, vows! Seokjin

Yoongi turns his gaze your way. You’re looking out the window of the plane, lost in thought.

There are always words on the tip of his tongue when he looks at you, and only his sheer stubbornness to hold them back.

He’d wanted to say how touched he was that you’d organised this trip for his birthday, but the words had retreated when you’d snorted at his passport photo.

You’d turned to him, voice dry as you’d said, ‘of course you’d have a gorgeous passport photo. My perfect chaebol husband.’

Yoongi hadn’t heard a question, so he hadn’t given an answer.

You’d skipped onto the plane ahead of him, getting settled in, and when the flight attendant had offered Yoongi champagne he’d turned to you to realise you were already asleep, face in your hand in a way that made his heart tug dangerously.

He’s finishing off some work when he realises you’re awake and watching him. 

‘Did you bring your glasses?’ you ask. 

‘I forgot them when you kidnapped me out of my office,’ Yoongi replies. He means it as a joke but your mouth turns down slightly at the corner.

‘Sorry,’ you say. ‘You have that shareholders meeting tomorrow, too, don’t you?’

You look down at your lap. ‘I didn’t know you had an important meeting. I would have rescheduled this trip.’

Yoongi is never sure if you’re aware of how endearing he finds your little downturned mouth when you’re sad or disappointed.

‘I can join in remotely,’ he says. ‘I’ll only need an hour.’

‘Ok,’ you say, distracted by the flight attendant bringing a tray into the cabin. There’s a silver cloche covering the contents, and Yoongi has a moment of horrified realisation just as the singing begins.

His eyes snap to yours, and he realises he’s doomed from the way you’ve got your hands clasped and are singing the birthday song with enthusiasm, if not talent.

Yoongi forces a pained smile as the flight attendant lifts the cloche to reveal a sprinkles-covered birthday cake, a funfetti monstrosity with his name on in gold letters.

He genuinely can’t think of anything that he hates more than this forced joviality.

Thankfully it’s over almost as soon as it’s begun.

Yoongi watches as you carefully cut him a slice and present it to him ceremoniously.

He takes a bite, and you say, ‘oh.’

You gesture to the corner of his mouth, and then, quickly, put a hand on his arm and use your other thumb to swipe the cream off his mouth.

‘Use your tongue next time,’ Yoongi suggests, just to watch the way your eyes widen like you’re a shocked Victorian maiden.

It always amuses him, your particular mix of shy and bratty. 

You blink once, then you say, ‘I love licking cream off you.’

Yoongi nearly chokes on his cake, eyes fixed to your face.

Your words replay in his head, and there’s no way you didn’t mean them to sound as suggestive as they did.

You’re already turning away, reaching under the seat for your sweater.

‘Seokjin said you’d like a cream cake,’ you continue, slipping your sweater on.

Yoongi catches the barest hint of a smirk just as your face disappears momentarily under a wall of cream merino.

He manages to blank his expression before your face re-emerges, hair staticky and fluffed.

‘Seokjin’s full of helpful suggestions,’ Yoongi says.

‘He is suggestive,’ you mutter.

Yoongi laughs, and your eyes brighten.

You eat your cake in silence.

Yoongi’s sneaking glances at you as you chew, and when you set your fork down, he says, ‘hey.’

You lean closer, and Yoongi smooths a lock of hair back from your forehead.

‘Yoongi,’ you say, quietly, in that voice that melts him every time, ‘did you hate the fanfare with the cake very much?’

‘Yes, my love. Did it make you happy to watch me squirm?’

You can’t hide the gleeful quirk to your lips. ‘Yes. Sorry.’

You don’t sound sorry at all, but Yoongi forgives you anyway.

He sighs, exasperated. ‘What other surprises have you got planned?’

Your conversation is interrupted by the flight attendant collecting the trays, and when Yoongi looks back at you, you’re asleep again. 

Yoongi reaches over, puts his hand on yours, and goes to sleep himself.

***

The night-time breeze is balmy but Yoongi doesn’t mind.

You’d slipped your hand into his as you started your walk along the cobblestoned streets of Avila, and he’s quite sure he’ll walk you to wherever you want to go, when you’re holding his hand like this.

You’re brushing your thumb along his knuckles, exploring the dips in between with an absent fondness that seems almost unintentional.

You turn to him, all bright and cheery despite the late hour, and Yoongi’s gaze falls to the low neck of your sundress.

He can see the tops of your breasts from here, the edge of your bra.

It’s red silk, a set he’d bought you a while ago that you’d discovered in his wardrobe and accused him of buying for himself.

Yoongi reaches out and strokes his own thumb over your collarbone, stopping at the hollow in the middle of your neck. 

He presses, hard, and you bite your lip.

‘Yoongi?’ you ask, like you haven’t been teasing him since you got off the plane, getting dressed in red silk lingerie in front of him, asking him to help with the buttons on the front of your sundress, holding his hand when you know how it affects him.

Yoongi pushes his thumb into your skin, harder, sliding his other arm around your waist to steady you as you step back, back until you’re pressed against the stone wall of the church you were about to walk past. 

‘Yoongi,’ you say, and if you have more to say Yoongi never hears it because of the blood rushing in his ears. 

He kisses you, hot and demanding, tongue slipping into your mouth like a claim. 

As always, you yield, throwing down any resistance with a willing abandon that floors him. Your hands fist handfuls of his jacket, and you tilt your head to let him kiss you deeper. 

Yoongi cups the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, not wanting your head to hit the wall.

You respond by throwing your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body to his.

Your breasts press against his chest, your hips rock against his shamelessly.

Yoongi grinds his hardening cock into your softness to let you know just how into this he is.

You’re breathless, shivering against him, and Yoongi’s about to shrug off his jacket when you slide down onto your knees in front of him.

He stares down at you, breathless, as you press your lips to his groin, mouth along the outline of his erection. 

He casts a glance around, but there’s no one to be seen in this quiet part of town, at this hour.

The night’s dark, the golden streetlights are far enough away from each other that the illumination doesn’t quite light up all the spaces in between.

You’re already unzipping his trousers, drawing him out, and you take him in with an eagerness that makes his cock leap.

God, you’re unbelievable. 

Yoongi says, ‘wait,’ hoarsely, staggers two steps back to lean against the base of a statue.

He cups the back of your head as you start sucking him down in earnest, swallowing the tip of his cock down. 

He arches his head back, glimpses the face of the statue, smiling down at him beatifically haloed by the darkness of the night sky.

You grab his ass, drag his hips forward like you’re trying to force him down you, and Yoongi’s lost, coming with a shout, spilling himself down your throat.

You lick him clean, and are zipping his pants back up when you’re pulled away from him.

You look up at him, confused.

Yoongi’s just as confused, but he doesn’t like the way the uniformed guard has your arms pinned behind you.

‘Hey,’ he starts, and then realises that another guard has slapped handcuffs on him.

You’re looking at the statue he’s leaning against.

There’s rapid-fire Spanish, beyond Yoongi’s rudimentary comprehension. The only words he can make out are ‘Santa Teresa.’

Yoongi’s bundled into the back of a police car next to you.

‘Fuck,’ you say, ‘I think they’re accusing us of defiling the statue of Saint Teresa of Avila.’

***

In the tiny cell, Yoongi shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders.

You look up at him.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. You look so upset Yoongi’s already reaching out to hold you when a single tear streaks down your cheek.

‘For getting us arrested?’ he clarifies.

Instead of giggling like he expected you to, you let out a sob, and Yoongi, alarmed, tips your chin up to see your face.

‘It’s not the first time I’ve been arrested, don’t worry,’ he says, trying to be reassuring.

‘I’ve never been in jail before,’ you sob.

Yoongi strokes your hair. 

‘Technically we’re not in jail,’ he stutters, flustered by your tears.

Your eyes flick to his, like you can’t believe how terrible he is at trying to comfort you when you’re crying.

In all honesty, Yoongi can’t blame you. 

‘I called Seokjin, he’s getting my lawyers involved,’ Yoongi continues, because you’re still staring at him. ‘We’ll be out of here in no time.’

‘Your meeting,’ you say, gulping. ‘It’s in six hours.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Yoongi says, quietly. 

Your tears have stopped, and he can practically see the gears in your head turning as you get up and start pacing the cell.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, stopping in front of him.

‘For what?’ Yoongi scoffs. ‘Giving me the best blowjob of my life against the statue of the patron saint of Avila?’

You let out a giggle that sounds completely involuntary.

Encouraged, Yoongi continues, ‘flying me out here in the middle of a busy work week to celebrate my birthday in a Spanish prison?’

This time, you laugh, and for the first time since you were both arrested, Yoongi feels the tenseness in his shoulders start to ease.

‘Jagiya,’ he says, and your eyes meet his. ‘Can you let me organise my own birthday celebrations next time?’

Your eyes begin to sparkle with that bratty gleam he loves.

You tilt your chin, a show of defiance, and Yoongi feels a dangerous tug at his heart.

‘What would you have planned?’ you ask.

‘Making you come with my tongue buried inside you,’ Yoongi replies. 

He laughs as you still completely and let out a squeak.

‘Yoongi,’ you say, like you’re scandalised but he knows better. ‘That’s the kind of behaviour that got us thrown in here in the first place.’

‘You’re right,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘Come hold my hand instead.’

You look at his outstretched palm for a moment before you put your hand in his. 

You sit next to him, and, carefully, with tentativeness, like you’re on a first date instead of being husband and wife, lean your head on his shoulder.

Yoongi lets out a breath and presses his cheek to the top of your head.

‘I love you, Yoongi,’ you say, very quietly.

Yoongi squeezes your hand, and holds you until the world around you falls away.

He sleeps.

***

The sound of footsteps approaching wakes Yoongi. 

He looks up, careful not to jostle you against his chest. From the weight of you, you’re still sleeping.

The cell door unlocks, and the police officer gestures to him. 

‘Your lawyer called. You’re free to go.’

You’re stirring beside him, looking up sleepily.

‘We’re being released,’ Yoongi tells you.

You nod.

You slip your hand into his and follow him to the open door of the holding cell.

‘Stop,’ the guard says. ‘She can’t go. Her paperwork hasn’t come through. It’s only you that can go.’

Yoongi’s already trying to step back into the cell when it closes.

He slips his arm through the bars to hold your arm.

Instead of dismay, there’s determination in your face.

You’re looking at the clock. 

‘Yoongi, your meeting. It’s in twenty minutes. You’ve got time to conference yourself in.’

Yoongi doesn’t even blink.

‘Fuck that. There’s no way I’m leaving here without you.’

Not letting go of your arm, he takes the phone the guard hands him and is dialling when Kim Seokjin walks around the corner.

As always, he’s beautifully dressed, in a cream linen suit and crisp blue shirt unbuttoned to mid chest.

He speaks to the guard in Spanish, and in moments, the guard’s unlocking the cell to let you out.

Seokjin turns to Yoongi and you, that smirk on his face that’s always made Yoongi’s eye twitch.

‘I want to know more about the antics that got you thrown in here, but for now, there’s a car waiting outside that’s dialled into your shareholders meeting, Yoongi. Better get to it.’

‘Thanks, hyung,’ Yoongi says. 

‘Happy birthday,’ Seokjin says, clapping him on the back.

‘Thanks.’

Yoongi grabs your hand and walks out with you and Seokjin.

He doesn’t look back.

***

Yoongi’s lying on his back in the beautiful villa you’d hired for your stay.

The gauzy curtains flutter in the salty ocean breeze, and the ceiling fan above the bed he’s lying in circles lazily.

Yoongi’s been watching you dry your hair for the past five minutes, and the glimpse of your naked back from the gaping lapels of the bathrobe you’re almost wearing has him harder than he feels comfortable admitting.

Fuck. There are times when he can’t believe you’re real.

‘Hey,’ he says, voice coming out deeper, lower than his usual tone. ‘Come here.’

You get up and head to the bed.

Yoongi tugs the knot in your robe, slips his hands over your bare thighs, loving how you part them so willingly for him.

‘Can I do what I wanted to for my birthday?’ he asks.

You frown at him. ‘It’s technically not your birthday anymore,’ you point out.

Yoongi scoffs. ‘Come sit on my face, don’t pretend you don’t want to.’

He slides his hands over your bare ass as you position yourself over his face.

You lean forward, one arm braced against the headboard, as Yoongi pulls you down onto his mouth.

He groans as he thumbs your folds apart to find you’re slick with arousal already. 

He flattens his tongue to lick a broad stripe along your cunt. 

Fuck, you sound so good when he’s eating you out.

You lean forward, moaning softly as he licks firmly at your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking out, making you gasp.

You shift, and your tits bounce, nipples hard and puckered, so pretty Yoongi pinches one to hear you squeal.

He laps at your arousal as he plays with your nipples. He knows how you love having your breasts played with, he loves how his touch can make you grind against his face, needy and gasping.

He flicks his tongue at your clit steadily, and you’re closing your eyes now, hips moving in that needy, uncoordinated way that they do when you’re close.

One of your hands lands on his head, fingers carding through his hair.

You tug, and Yoongi runs his teeth over your clit.

You cry his name, the last word you form before you’re coming all over his face. 

Yoongi tugs you to him, holding you close as he turns you over so he can sink his cock in to the hilt.

You arch your back when he’s fully inside, letting out another pretty cry.

Yoongi’s cock throbs in your wet heat, the residual pulses of your orgasm milking him.

He groans as you wriggle beneath him.

‘Feels so good,’ you moan, tilting your hips to take more.

You so warm, so wet, so fucking tight that Yoongi’s spurting pre-come without even moving, ready to spill himself in you.

He grunts, and you squeeze him so tight that he’s on a hair trigger.

‘Yoongi,’ you plead. ‘I need —‘

‘I know, baby,’ he soothes, pressing a kiss to your warm face.

He moves, hitting deep, adjusting the angle of his hips to fuck into you the way he’s learned you like.

You’re so wet that every shift of his hips sounds obscene. 

He pulls out, and re-enters you, the thick head of him stretching you open.

He stays like that, just the tip of his cock inside you, until you’re writhing, trying to buck up against him, to take more of him.

Yoongi leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, and then you’re coming, thank god, because Yoongi can’t hold on anymore.

He buries himself inside you, all the way, and comes.

Yoongi’s never been a religious man, but this sure feels a hell of a lot like rapture to him.

He wraps his arms around you.

‘Happy birthday to me,’ he says, hoarse, exhausted.

‘Yeah, happy birthday,’ you say, muffled, into his neck.

‘I love you, jagiya.’

You pull a face. 

‘Yeah, I can feel your love all the way down my thigh,’ you reply, disgruntled.

Yoongi musters a smirk as he flexes his cock inside you.

‘You can’t pretend to hate me when I’m still inside you.’

You change tack with breathtaking audacity. ‘I don’t hate you, Yoongi.’

‘I know,’ he replies, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘Now go to sleep so we can do this again.’

‘Thanks for not ditching me in jail,’ you say, yawning.

Yoongi’s heart gives an unexpected throb.

‘I never would,’ he tells you.

He’s not sure if you hear him, or if you’re already asleep.

©hamsterclaw 2023

I want to say that ‘The Vows’ couple are my favourite. I keep reading it again and again. There is nothing better than this. I love them so much. Whenever I see any part of it on my dashboard I read it again along with some other parts. I just love it so much. The reader’s character of being bratty, misunderstood, and not evil is so perfectly balanced. And Yoongi accepts her not just tolerates her, this is my fav part of this fic. He is so much in love with her. And even though she makes him really mad he still loves her the same.

OH MY!!! 😭Thank you so much, this analysis is spot on and exactly why I love writing them and I am so so happy that you're enjoying them.

Here’s another little drabble for you because Min Yoongi has been wrecking me today.

Pairing: Vows! Yoongi x reader

Warnings: Sex, swearing, Seokjin

By now, you're pretty good at recognising when your husband is genuinely angry. He's often difficult to read, but you've been making an effort lately, and you're starting to recognise his tells.

When his mouth is in a straight line and his brow's slightly furrowed, he's bemused. It's the expression he had when you hid all his left shoes.

When his brows are drawn together and his mouth opens slightly, he's irritated. He gets like this sometimes when you and Seokjin are arguing.

When his expression goes completely blank, you look at his hands. When his hands are like they are now, loosely clenched, and he looks at you with heat in his gaze, he's angry. It doesn't happen often, but you're quite sure, that on this occasion, Yoongi is angry.

Scratch that. He looks pretty fucking mad.

You think frantically about all the things you've done lately, trying to remember if you've done anything especially provoking.

He’s looking straight at you across the room, and you can feel his eyes burning into you.

What have you done this time?

Your husband's still staring at you, and if he didn't look so damn irresistible in the sharp black suit he's wearing, you'd already be running.

His gaze flicks down over your body, blatantly looking you over in a way that's unusual for him.

Ahhhh fuck.

You stole his suit.

The last time Yoongi and you had to attend a public event together, you went all out. You'd picked up a vintage gown, had it altered to fit you like a second skin, had spent hours being primped and preened just so you could turn up on his arm looking like the most perfect version of you money could buy.

Yoongi had barely blinked. In fact, he'd grumbled something about you making him late to the event.

And so today, when you'd walked past the suit laid out for him in his wardrobe area on the way to the shower, an idea of immense brilliance had flashed into your mind.

You'd reached out, plucked the hanger off the rack, and marched to your room with it clutched in your hand.

You'd sent him some excuse about working late and had told him you'd meet him at the hotel, and then you'd put on his suit.

Crisp white shirt, a jacket with a subtle pinstripe, and a black tie that you'd had to ask Mrs Gye to help you tie. You'd forgone the suit trousers entirely, and the jacket on you is long enough to cover your ass.

Just about.

The piece de resistance though? The platinum collar bar connecting both ends of the collar, tucked under your tie.

You're not entirely sure how you're going to get it off without help, especially since the look on Yoongi's face makes it seem like he's unlikely to want to help you right now.

You like the suit he has on though, now that you can see it more clearly. It's almost identical to the one you have on.

Trust your husband to have a backup suit on standby.

He even has a collar bar like yours, and damn he looks so sexy you want to jump his bones.

Belatedly, you realise the reason you can see all the detail on his suit is that he's much closer than he was when you last checked.

Shit. He's heading straight towards you, face like thunder.

You squeak and back away, straight into the hard chest of Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin sighs wearily.

'At least tell me what panties you're wearing so I have something to jerk off to later,' he says.

'I'll give them to you if you help me get away,' you say quickly, seeing an opportunity.

'You're not going anywhere,' Yoongi says. His hand closes on your arm like a vice.

***

Yoongi’s driving, one hand curled loosely on the wheel, the other on the centre console of his car, close to your bare thigh.

‘Nice suit,’ he says, the first words he’s spoken to you since you left the event.

You smooth the wool over your thigh. ‘Thank you, it’s Valentino.’

Yoongi looks at you like he can’t quite believe your audacity.

‘It looks like the suit I was meant to wear tonight.’

‘Yeah?’ you ask, all innocence.

‘I didn’t know you could tie a tie that well, I should ask for your help next time.’

‘Mrs Gye helped,’ you offer nonchalantly.

‘Where are the pants?’ Yoongi asks. He glances in the rearview mirror, signals to turn.

‘They didn’t fit,’ you say, shrugging.

‘Because they were measured specifically for me,’ Yoongi points out.

You give him a sidelong look.

‘You don’t like me in womenswear or menswear it seems,’ you mutter.

Because you’re watching, you see Yoongi flick his eyes to you.

‘I like you in everything,’ he counters. There’s a pause before he says, ‘and nothing.’

He slows the car, and you look around curiously at the darkness around you.

Yoongi pulls to a complete stop.

‘Why did you steal my suit to wear tonight?’

You don’t have an answer, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to be waiting for one.

‘Is it because I don’t buy you enough beautiful clothes?’ he muses.

‘I buy my own clothes,’ you point out, defiant.

‘Is it because it wasn’t enough for you that I came so hard when you were wearing that ridiculous dress at the last event, I passed out?’

‘You liked that dress?’ you ask, inordinately pleased.

Yoongi glowers at you.

‘If you didn’t act like such a brat all the time, I’d compliment you more,’ he growls.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘You like it when I’m a brat, Yoongi.’

He doesn’t deny it. Instead he looks out the window.

‘How many times do I have to come inside you before you realise how stunning I think you are?’

He turns back to you.

‘Jagiya, I will always think you are beautiful.’

There’s no heat in his voice now, the words come out with a quiet simplicity that rings with honesty.

You’re still processing when he continues, ‘and I will always think you look irresistible in my clothes.’

‘Are you angry with me?’

‘For stealing my suit and leaving me to have a replacement delivered at short notice?’

You turn to him.

‘I’m not angry,’ he tells you. ‘But if I were, how would you make it up to me?’

You bite your lip, then slide your seat back.

‘May I kiss you, Yoongi?’

He’s staring at your lips. ‘Yes.’

You slip your hand down his chest, past his belt buckle, down to his lap.

‘Here?’ you ask, hand over his lap.

‘Fuck, jagiya, please,’ he breathes.

You lean over and undo his pants, slide his half-erect dick out.

Yoongi reaches out, wraps a hand around your (his) tie, loosely.

‘Hey,’ he says, just as your lips touch his cock.

‘Mmm?’

‘Tap me if I’m holding too tight, ok?’

He waits until you nod before he leans back in his seat. His perfectly coiffed hair flicks forward as the back of his head meets the headrest, and his thighs spread as you lick along his cock.

He’s quiet as you suck him to full erection, the only clues you have that he’s enjoying it are the erraticness of his breathing and the way he’s twitching over your tongue.

‘Fuck,’ he groans, fist tightening in your tie, tugging you down.

It’s making the tie tighten around your neck, but you like how it feels.

‘Fu— uh—- uk,’ he groans again, stuttering as you hollow your cheeks and take him all in, the head of his cock nudging the back of your throat.

You swallow, and he slams a hand against the car window.

You reach under, cup his balls, and his hips jerk against your face.

He’s holding you so tight, filling your mouth with his cock so well you can barely breathe.

‘Gonna cum,’ he warns, ‘fuck, I’m gonna —-‘

He doesn’t finish his sentence, moaning long and deep as he shoots his release down your throat.

The tie tightens again, and then he lets go.

‘Jagi, are you ok?’

He’s tipping your chin up to see your face, and the concern in his expression makes you feel warm.

‘I’m ok, oppa.’

He pulls you up to kiss him.

‘Don’t ‘oppa’ me, brat.’

He’s undoing your tie deftly, unthreading the collar bar so he can unbutton your shirt.

‘Let me see,’ he grunts, unbuttoning your shirt rapidly, pulling the plackets apart to expose your lack of bra, the thin, sheer panties you slipped on.

He presses his thumb over your wetness, places his other hand over your exposed front.

‘What do you want, my love?’ he asks. He slides two fingers under your panties, tugs. ‘Want me to kiss you here?’

His knuckles nudge against your core, and he groans. ‘You’re wet, you like sucking my cock, don’t you, jagiya?’

His fingers slip inside you, stretching, scissoring, his movements fast and insistent.

‘Yoongi,’ you cry, and he laughs, thumb rocking back and forth over your clit, making you buck against his hand.

'You're so easy to please, my love,' he taunts.

A lock of hair's fallen over his forehead now, and he looks so good you could cry.

Yoongi cups your breast, squeezes. 'Your little pussy's so fucking tight, I can barely move my hand,' he tells you. 'Gonna come for me?'

You cry his name as your pleasure crests and you press your face into his neck.

Yoongi leaves his fingers inside you but wraps his other arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

The cool metal of his collar bar digs into your cheek.

'I'm gonna help you get re-dressed, ok, baby?' he says, voice low, rumbling in his chest.

'Then I'm going to take you home and we're going to do this again.'

Every time like the first time

A Vows story.

Pairing: Yoongi x F! reader

Genre: Arranged marriage AU, chaebol! Yoongi

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Yoongi’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, but he’s pretty sure you have no idea.

You’re definitely up to something.

He knows all the signs by now.

The restlessness of your fingers, tapping the glass coffee table. The furtive sidelong glances you keep giving him.

Yoongi stifles a smile when you undo the top two buttons of your blouse and tug it down a little.

He pretends to be engrossed in his book as you slide onto the couch next to him.

Soon you’re so close you’re practically in his lap.

Yoongi lifts his gaze from his book and turns to look at you like he’s just realised you’re there.

‘Hi, jagiya.’

You’re smiling cheerfully at him.

‘Hi, oppa.’

Yoongi asks, ‘Do you need something?’

‘No,’ you answer.

Yoongi nods to the open neck of your blouse. ‘Looks like a button came undone. Shall I fix it?’

You frown as he re-buttons your blouse, without touching you at all.

Yoongi asks, ‘Are you sure there’s nothing you need?’

You hesitate. ‘No, I don’t need anything.’

‘Anything you want?’ Yoongi prompts.

‘No.’ Even less convincing.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. ‘Well I’m trying to finish this book, so ——‘

‘Sorry,’ you say.

You sit up and go back to your side of the couch.

You glance at your phone and sigh.

Yoongi ignores you.

He’s just got back into his book when he feels something land on his arm.

Yoongi glances at the pen cap that’s landed beside him. ‘Did you throw this at me?’

You’re all wide eyes and innocence. ‘No, Yoongi.’

Yoongi scoffs but decides to let it slide.

A moment later a pen lands on his thigh, bounces off onto the couch.

Yoongi stares at it, then you.

‘Anything you want to tell me, jagiya?’

You’re buried in your phone.

A moment later Yoongi’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

Mrs Min: Yooooongi

Yoongi’s careful not to show any discenible reaction as he swipes away the text and puts his phone back in his pocket. His phone vibrates again, and Yoongi ignores it.

Finally you get up. You’re at the door of his study, hand on the door handle, when Yoongi says, low, ‘Come back here.’

For a split second, it almost looks like you’re about to ignore him.

Then you turn around and throw yourself into his arms.

Yoongi has the breath knocked out of him as you land in his lap.

‘Yoongi,’ you say, anguished. ‘I’m sorry.’

Yoongi nudges your head with his chin. ‘What for?’

You gnash your teeth. ‘I promise you, I’ll fix it.’

Now he’s worried. ‘What did you do, jagiya?’

‘I bought Min Holdings.’

Now that you’ve blurted it out, you slump over in his lap, boneless in your confession.

Yoongi says, slowly, ‘You bought Min Holdings? My family’s company?’

‘I’ll sell it back to you,’ you say, hurriedly.

Yoongi’s lost for words.

You’re already holding out a stack of documents, miserable.

‘It was meant to be the final stroke in my plot to destroy you when we first got married,’ you confess.

‘I hired a specialist team for mergers and acquisitions, years ago, and they’ve been buying shares in your company ever since.’

You look at your hands. ‘Then I teamed up with Jung Hoseok.’

‘Jung Hoseok?’

You misunderstand his question. ‘The CEO of Jungcorp —‘

‘I know who he is,’ Yoongi interrupts.

You wring your hands. ‘Anyway I’ve bought Jung Hoseok out, and I’m the majority shareholder in Min Holdings now.’

Yoongi’s taken aback by the extent of your treachery.

‘Y/N, this is excessive, even for you.’

At the sound of your name, you flinch like he’s struck you.

‘I’m so sorry Yoongi, at first I did it because I was so angry and then —-‘

‘Then I did it to see if I could.’

You bow your head.

Yoongi takes the papers you’re holding out to him.

He waits until you’re looking at him.

‘Are you saying that you own my family’s company now?’

Your face crumples. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

You nod to the papers. ‘Please sign these and I’ll give it all back,’ you plead.

Yoongi asks, very quietly, ‘How can I trust you?’

You react like you’d expected him to say that.

‘I can’t ask you to trust me.’

You’re looking at him earnestly. ‘And if you —-‘

You stop, swallow, start again. ‘If you wanted to divorce me, I wouldn’t contest it.’

Yoongi stares at your bowed head.

‘I know I’ve gone too far, Yoongi. Please forgive me.’

Yoongi puts the papers down.

‘Look at me.’

You meet his gaze with effort.

‘I’ve known about this for a long time,’ he tells you.

Your eyes widen.

‘Min Holdings has been the target for a dozen takeover bids over the years,’ Yoongi says, gently. ‘You wouldn’t have been able to get as far as you have without us finding out.’

‘Then why?’

Yoongi says, simply, ‘I know you would never hurt me.’

He smiles. ‘I’ve had a hell of a time convincing my board to let you keep going with your nefarious plot.’

‘Also, my CFO wants to hire you.’

Your heart’s pounding, there’s a rush of blood in your ears. ‘Why would you trust me so much?’

Yoongi touches your face. ‘Why wouldn’t I? You trust me, don’t you?’

He slides his hand down to your neck, wraps his fingers around your throat, under your chin, loose.

‘You trust me to touch you like this, and not to hurt you.’

You shiver visibly at his words, almost leaning into his hand.

Yoongi can read the arousal in your eyes as he tightens his hand.

He says, deep voice dropped even lower, ‘Don’t you?’

He loosens his grip, and you suck in a breath. ‘Yes, Yoongi.’

There’s a huskiness to your voice now, a note of supplication he rarely hears from you.

Yoongi unbuttons your blouse deftly, and when he gets to your skirt he tugs the zipper down.

‘Step out of your clothes, my love.’

He steadies you with his arm around your waist as you shed your clothes and are left in your lingerie.

You can feel your whole body heat up as he gives you a leisurely look up and down, tongue pocketed in his cheek.

‘Look at me.’

His voice is still low, gravelly, commanding.

‘You trust me enough to stand in front of me like this, don’t you?’

You meet his gaze, heart pounding, mouth dry.

‘Because you know I’d never hurt you.’

Yoongi gets up and starts undressing in front of you. He unbuttons his waistcoat, unscrews his collar bar, dropping it on the glass side table with a plink. You step forward.

Yoongi stays perfectly still, looking down at you as you loosen his tie and put it around your own neck.

He tightens it without you having to ask, wraps it round his hand twice, tugging you forward.

‘You trust me to do this, and I trust you to tell me if it’s too much.’

You unbutton his shirt, unbuckle his belt, and Yoongi loosens his grip on the tie around your neck so you can kneel in front of him to take his trousers down.

Yoongi hisses as you mouth along his boxer briefs, the muscles of his thighs tensing under your hands as you find his cock, semi-hard and getting harder by the second under your mouth.

‘Up,’ he grunts, tugging hard on the tie.

You’re breathless by the time you’re standing again.

Yoongi watches you carefully until you mouth ‘I’m ok.’

He reaches behind you to unhook your bra, and you whimper as he leans down to lave your nipples with his tongue.

You’re sensitive, nipples stiff, and you cry out as he kneads your bare breasts with his hands.

Yoongi pulls you down onto the couch, lets go of the tie.

He puts his hand between your legs like it belongs there, and you’re wet, clit throbbing under the pad of his thumb as he presses down.

‘Yoongi!’

He hisses, brings his slick fingers to his mouth and sucks, and your hips move involuntarily, seeking him again.

Yoong pinches the soft flesh over your hip. ‘Keep still, baby,’ he says sternly.

He nudges his cock over your cunt, sliding it up against you.

He slaps your hip. ‘Thighs together.’

You watch as he slides himself between your thighs, the smooth head of him nudging up against your clit as he lunges his hips.

Yoongi takes your face in his hand, holding you firmly so you’ll look at him.

‘You trust me to be inside you like this,’ he says, voice like velvet as he enters you.

You gasp at the feel of him, and he pushes two fingers into your open mouth.

Yoongi groans, and you can feel the shudder of pleasure racking his frame.

‘Every time like the first time, jagiya,’ he tells you, pupils blown, top teeth sinking into the plush of his lower lip as he moves.

You wrap your arms around him, holding on as he pulls out almost all the way, slides back into you.

He flows and ebbs into you, moving in the way he knows pleasures you the most.

‘Good girl,’ he says, emphatic, grunting his approval into your ear as you come.

He picks up the pace then, pressing kisses to your face, his thrusts quicker, shallower, until he stills, hard and leaking inside you.

‘You trust me to give you myself like this,’ he says quietly. ‘There’s no one else I trust more than you.’

He kisses you again, and you feel him filling you. He stays, hard and twitching inside you, long after he’s come and for the first time since you learned your plot succeeded, you’re at peace.

***

Yoongi wakes so quietly he catches you admiring his bare back.

‘Ah, jagiya,’ he observes. ‘What are you plotting now?’

You tug the covers up over your bare breasts.

‘I was just admiring you,’ you tell him truthfully.

Yoongi turns over onto his back. ‘Don’t let me stop you,’ he says, giving you a smirk so cocky you want to throttle him.

‘You’re going to be late for work,’ you tell him.

‘No, you’re going to be late,’ Yoongi says, shrugging.

‘Technically, I never signed those papers, so the company is your responsibility now.’

You blink at him.

‘You’re going to need more than that face if you want to win people over,’ Yoongi says, sitting up. ‘Not everyone on my board will be as easily swayed by it as I am.’

You consider him carefully as he gets up and heads to the bathroom.

‘I guess I’ll just call Jung Hoseok for help,’ you call out.

Yoongi doesn’t even turn. ‘Hobi and I go way back,’ he informs you. ‘I’m sure he’d help you.’

‘Hobi,’ you mutter, disgruntled.

You trail behind your husband as he enters the bathroom and starts brushing his teeth.

‘Can you help me?’

Yoongi barely spares you a glance. ‘Say please.’

Your brow furrows with irritation. ‘I begged your forgiveness yesterday,’ you point out.

‘And today I want you to say please,’ Yoongi returns.

He puts the shower on.

‘I’m looking forward to having more time off,’ he muses, ‘whilst you run the company.’

You step into the shower behind him.

‘Please,’ you mutter.

‘What’s that? You’ll have to speak up,’ Yoongi says, the bastard.

‘Please!’ you snap.

‘Is that how you ask for things, brat?’

‘Please, Yoongi,’ you say. ‘Please please please take your company back.’

‘Fine,’ Yoongi says, nonchalant. ‘But you owe me.’

He laughs at your outraged expression as he turns.

‘Wash my back, brat.’

©hamsterclaw 2023