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salvation in the secular age (i'm not your saviour)

Chapter Text

you flip through the book of designs, eyes barely flitting over the cheesy infinity symbols and flowery swirls and gazing upon the dark stamp of blood-red roses and litany of small constellations. you bit your lip in uncertainty. this would be the first transaction you’d pull through with first, your own brand new credit card, and second, without your older brother’s permission. some would argue that jin was more your dad than your brother, and a part of you was inclined to agree. ever since your parents had passed away, jin had stepped into your parental role, making sure you got to school on time and had three meals a day. you felt somewhat guilty for doing this knowing of his vehement protest against it.

this, was getting a tattoo. a permanent fixture on your subjectively pale skin that would you would regret, your brother argued. however, you paid his words no heed. you had always wanted one, and it was just a matter of when and what to get done. you felt just a tad bit better knowing you were doing this on your own dime.

you stopped on a page, eyes glued to a design with all-too familiar characters written in all-too familiar strokes. you gasped in horror.

“oh no.”

“oh yes.” you winced, looking up to meet one min yoongi’s gaze. “get out of my store, y/n.” yoongi was always astonishingly handsome in your eyes. with his sleepy, catlike eyes and little pink mouth, he had been the star of most of your dreams since you were all but eight. he was also very much grown up now, not that he’d ever not been.

yoongi was seokjin’s best friend, and the bane of your short-lived existence. he had stumbled, quite literally, into your life when you had moved to the city, becoming your older brother’s first friend. since then, he had adopted the role of your second big brother, much to your displeasure. it was fair to say that you had always held out a torch for him, even after what he had done to you two years ago. you shook yourself awake from your thoughts. what happened then shouldn’t matter now, you reminded yourself. because you were so very much over him.

“i’m a paying customer.” you defended yourself, closing the book shut and crossing your arms, cursing yourself for not wearing something more appealing. donned in one of jin’s old sweatshirts and faded jean shorts, you looked the ‘little sister’ part to the boot. a role you never wanted to appear like in yoongi’s eyes.

“doesn’t matter, sweetie.” the man strolled up to you, stopping short just in front of the chair you were perched on and plopping down on the rolling chair opposite of it. “jin’d have my head if he saw you here.”

“c’mon, yoongi-oppa.” you hopped off the chair, so preoccupied with landing upright that you miss the way he exhales shakily. “he won’t have to know!”

“please,” he snorted, meeting your eyes. you gulped, feeling the room get warmer as the electricity in his gaze made your heart thud faster. “you think he wouldn’t recognise my work?”

“who cares?” you got over your hesitance quick. “for old times’ sake, please?”

“i can refer to over to tae if you want it that bad, y/n.” he runs a finger through his faded mint-green hair, and you watch as the litter of roses on his collarbones are exposed and the dark foreign words on his biceps flex with his movement. you feel your throat go dry.

“why him?” you cough slightly as your voice comes out raspier than you intended. the sides of yoongi’s mouth quirk up.

“because he’s better at inking up little girls who want infinity signs and their boyfriends’ names.” and there he was.

“i don’t want either of those!” you cry out, offended.

“why? no boyfriend to keep you occupied?”

“i’m busy with my education, yoongi-oppa.” you emphasise, rolling your eyes. you didn’t want him to know that you had spent the two years away from him pining for someone you knew would never let you have him. “i’m twenty now, remember?”

“i remember.” yoongi says shortly. “you don’t need to remind me.”

“why, don’t want to be reminded of your age?”

“i’m twenty-nine, sweetie, not seventy.”

“close enough.” you tie your hair up. “that’s old enough to not do as my brother tells you to!”

“that doesn’t matter. i’m still not doing it.” he shoots you a deadpanned look. you squeeze your thighs together. goddamn it, he shouldn’t still have this effect on you!

“why not?” you whine, stomping your foot against the cold linoleum floor. yoongi huffs out a laugh, making your heart skip a beat.

“because you still have a big, fat crush on me.” he leans forward against the counter, eyes shining in amusement.

“oh, please!” you stammer out, rolling your eyes. your hands tightened on the belt loops of your jeans. “that was when i was nine. get over it.”

“as if you’ve gotten over me, kim y/n.” yoongi smirked, getting up from his chair and walking over to you. you take an unconscious step back at the predatory gaze he’s giving you. not long after, you find yourself backed onto the wall with the older man’s hand resting beside your head. he leans in, a hair’s breadth away from your lips, and you feel your heart beginning to pound out of your chest. you run your tongue over your bottom lip nervously, watching as yoongi’s gaze drops down to the action. just when you think he’s about to kiss you, he backs away, grinning. “case in point.”

“t-that was rude!” you fume, kicking off the wall and grabbing your bag. “you’re an ass, oppa.” you make a move to walk out the door, only to be stopped by his hand on your wrist. you pull away, feeling it burn like a stamp. he peeks at you from behind his mess of mint green hair.

“you should stop calling me oppa. for my health.” he clarifies when you shoot him a confused look. an involuntary laugh escapes from you, and you muffle it behind a hand.

“how about no, oppa?” with that, you waggle your fingers at him, tossing out a “send me that referral!” over your shoulder, ignoring the affronted “in your dreams!”. you leave the tattoo parlour forgetting the man had ever broken your heart.

Chapter Text

“i’m home!” you sing when you open the front door. you toss your bag onto the couch before plopping down on it unceremoniously and placing your feet on the coffee table.

“feet off my table, y/n!” your brother yells from the kitchen. you pout, doing as he says and folding them in front of your chest. “dinner’ll be done in an hour. go shower!”

“why?” you grumble, picking at the seams of the fabric that had come loose on jin’s pink sweater. “you never do!”

“yoongi’s coming over for dinner, dipshit!”

your jaw drops, and you scramble off the couch and into the kitchen, where you’re greeted by a sight most girls from your class would die to see. your brother was standing in front of the stove, stirring a ladle into a pot in a fitted white shirt, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric. you often wondered how you were even related to someone as good-looking as seokjin, not that you’d ever say it to his ever-growing ego.

“yoongi’s coming?” you demand, making your brother jump in surprise.

“stop doing that, nerd!” jin puts a hand over his heart. “you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“it’s not my fault i have silent footsteps! and you’re getting old, jackass!” you whine, before getting back to business. “why’s yoongi coming tonight?”

“so he can lecture you about the downsides of tattoos.” your brother answered casually, turning his back to you and beginning to cut up some tofu. you smack him upside his head, making him cry out in pain. “the youth have no respect for their elders!”

“you’re only ten years older than me!”

“and i don’t deserve your respect?”

“once you see your older brother dance around in his princess peach boxers, all respect will disappear.” you stated monotonously, watching as the tips of jin’s ears began blossoming to a bright shade of red.

“in my defence, i didn’t know you were in my room.” he crossed his arms, glaring at you.

“disinvite yoongi.” you demand, crossing your arms back at him.

“y/n, you don’t really need a tattoo.” jin sighed. “why do you even-“

“i want it, and you can’t stop me!” you cried out. “why can’t i have one?”

“you’ll regret it, sweetie, come on.” your older brother said placatingly. “now go get dressed or yoongi’ll call you stinkypants again and make you cry.”

“that was when i was eleven, you jerk!” you stomp your foot on the ground, unmoving when jin raised an unimpressed eyebrow at you. “okay, maybe that was when i was fourteen, but still! disinvite him!”

“what’s up with you and yoongi, huh? you two have been weird since you left for college.” seokjin took the pot off the stove, placing it on the countertop. you bounded to it, sniffing the soup curiously.

“smells good, oppa.” you complimented, intent on changing the subject.

“don’t try to change the subject, kim y/n.” you groaned.

“nothing happened.” you mumbled. and that was the problem. nothing had ever happened and nothing would ever happen between you and yoongi, no matter how much you had wanted.

“seriously.” you looked up, meeting your brother’s concerned gaze. “is everything okay?”

“it’s fine.” you smiled unconvincingly. “i’ll get dressed.” you made a move to walk away from the counter, only for your brother to pull at your wrist and envelop you into a loose embrace. a genuine smile spread across your face as you breathed in his familiar scent of sandalwood. you felt his lips peck the crown of your head before he pushed you away.

“you smell like shit.”

“rude!” you huffed, before clambering up the stairs. if you had to sit through dinner with yoongi, the least you could do was look like his biggest regret.


you looked at your reflection victoriously. after a quick shower, you had shaved, picked out an outfit, dried and curled your hair, and swiped on some makeup. you got up from your vanity, pulling off the towel around your body and shimmying into a polka-dotted wrap dress. you glanced at the clock, with eight minutes to spare until yoongi would get here, you sprawled across your bed, hooking up your feet on it, uncaring of how the cold wind from the air conditioner breezed past your panties teasingly.

you pulled out your phone, grinning when you received a message from your best friend.

from: jk ddaeng
r u inked yet

to: jk ddaeng
neg, met yoongi

from: jk ddaeng
spill tea

to: jk ddaeng
can’t, he’s otw for dinner now

from: jk ddaeng
call me later or i’ll burn your assignments

to: jk ddaeng
f u

from: jk ddaeng
u wish

suddenly, the door slammed open, and you squealed, pulling your blanket over your form. you peeked from under the duvet to meet yoongi’s reddening face.

“holy shit, i’m sorry!” he stammered. “dinner’s ready.”

“y-yeah, it’s fine.” you adjusted your dress before pulling back the blanket. you cursed yourself. his biggest regret, your ass. you were already coming off like his little sister again. “come on.” you hopped off the bed, sliding your phone into your pocket before walking out the door. yoongi closed it behind you before falling into step beside you.

“hello kitty, huh?” he suddenly asked. you looked at him confusedly before smacking him.

“those are my favourite sheets, asshole!”

yoongi laughed, rubbing his arm. “good to see that some things never change.”

your good mood instantly vanished. “yeah.” with that, you walked ahead of him, bounding down the stairs and leaving him confused. you slid into your seat across your brother and stared at the rice with a vengeance.

“hungry?” jin asked. you nodded, and felt yoongi slide into the seat beside you. you inwardly groaned. “you look pretty.”

“thanks, oppa.” you smiled slightly, before taking the soup ladle and pouring the doenjjang into the bowls. you passed them around, breath hitching when your fingers grazed yoongi’s. you ducked your head down immediately, shoving a spoonful of soup into your mouth.

“hey,” you swallow the hot liquid, before peering up to meet your brother’s gaze. “you okay?”


“no seriously, why are you both being weird?” jin leaned back on his chair, looking to you and yoongi. from your peripheral, you saw yoongi glance away.

“we’re not being weird.” you pipe up. “you’re being weird by making this weird and so now it’s weird.”

“i’m not even gonna pretend i know what that meant.” your brother rolled his eyes. “seriously, what’s up?”

“drop it, hyung.” yoongi suddenly growled. you jumped slightly at the predatory sound.

“no.” seokjin barked back. “she’s my sister and you’re my best friend and i have every right to-“

“oppa, please.” you say weakly, pulling at the sleeves of your dress. “nothing happened.”

“i swear, min yoongi, if you touched her-“

“what the fuck, hyung?” the mint-haired man pushed back his chair. “i would never fucking touch her, i watched her grow up!”

you ignored the pang of hurt that rose up in your chest. “oppa, you know he would never.” you touched your brother’s wrist hesitantly.

“then what happened between you two?” he demanded.

“that’s none of your business, hyung.” yoongi seethed, picking up his jacket.

“sit down, yoongi.” you pleaded. “come on, guys.”

“can you stop?” the man yells, making you startle. “stop trying to fix things, and stop pretending like everything’s fucking fine!”

you got over your shock, and before you knew it, your anger had bubbled over, revealing you true thoughts. “would you rather i scream and cry about it? grow up, yoongi, not everything revolves around you!”

“you mean grow up like you have? you’re barely fucking twenty, y/n!”

“don’t you think i know that?” you stand up, making the legs of chair screech. jin looks at you in bewilderment. “don’t you think i know the reason we can barely stay in a room together is because of my age?”

“oh please, it’s about bloody time you get over me!”

“shut the fuck up!” you slam your palms against the table, ignoring the pain that begins to blossom on your hands. you take a deep breath, trying to hold back your tears. “shut the fuck up, yoongi.” you repeat, voice quieting.

“y/n, i think you should go upstairs.” your brother says cautiously, causing you to glare at him from behind your onslaught of tears.

“you’re not my dad, jin.” you snarled. jin’s face morphs into a hurt expression, and suddenly you can’t take it anymore. you bound out of the room and run out the front door, ignoring your brother’s cries. you round the corner, pulling out your cellphone to ask jungkook to come pick you up when a hand grabs your wrist. you pull away in anger when you see the familiar sleeve of inked symbols littering the arm. “leave me alone, yoongi.”

“no.” he snaps, pulling you to face him. you look away in spite. “look at me, y/n.” you remain stubbornly. “grow the fuck up.” you turn at that, and you don’t realise what you’re doing until yoongi reaches up to his cheek gingerly. your eyes widen in shock at your own actions.

“holy shit, i’m so sorry.” you yelp, rubbing your thumb on his bruising cheek. yoongi turns his head in your touch, his dark onyx eyes meeting yours, making you inhale sharply and pull away. “can we just forget it ever happened?” you whisper, looking down to your feet.

“what if i don’t want to?” he says after a moment of silence. a calloused finger raises your chin, and yoongi’s catlike features stare back at you.

“what if i want to?”

“no, it’s about time we talked about what happened two years ago, y/n.”

Chapter Text


yoongi startles when he hears a brisk knocking on his door. pulling off his headphones, he walks across his living room to open the door. he’s met by your tearful eyes and the all too familiar stench of alcohol.

“can i come in?” you ask shakily. yoongi nods, and you shrug past him and into the apartment, never-minding if you came off a bit rude.

“are you drunk?” the blonde man asked as he watched you plop down on his worn-out couch, tucking your legs underneath your small frame.

“don’t tell jin-oppa.” you plead.

“sweetie, you’re supposed to be home by now. you’re leaving at-“

“twelve. i know.” you cut him off, throwing a hand over your eyes. yoongi furrows his brows in confusion. you were never like this. kim y/n was polite, and sweet, and snappy at times, but never as tired-sounding as you were at this moment.

“what happened?” he asked, sitting down beside you. you stiffened, feeling your tears build up in the corner of your eyes again.

“j-jimin broke up with me.” you confessed, the drops of crystal sliding down your porcelain face, leaving a stray path of mascara.

“what the hell.” yoongi stated, anger taking over his system. how dare that cheeto-haired jackass break your heart? “i’m gonna fucking murder-“

“don’t.” you said, peering around your arm to look at him for the first time that night. “don’t bother.”

“y/n, he fucking broke your heart. why wouldn’t i bother?” the man growled.

“because he broke up with me for a reason.” you sat up, your bloodshot eyes tearing their way into yoongi’s soul. the older man let out a shuddering breath. “well, two.” yoongi diverted his gaze, choosing to tread his fingers together. god, he had hoped this day would never come. call him cruel, but he wished you would’ve never realised. “the first,” your breath hitched slightly. “was because he couldn’t stand not knowing what i was doing. and i guess i get it because i’d feel the exact same way.” you tucked back a stray strand of hair, glancing at yoongi’s hunched frame. “and the second was because he knew i was in love with someone else.”

“y/n, don’t.” the man interrupted, voice hoarse. “trust me, you don’t want to.”

“i do.” you insisted, inching closer to him. “yoongi, i,” you took a deep breath before using your palm to make the man meet your eyes. you melt in his fearful gaze. “i’ve been in love with you for years.”

“i know.” yoongi confessed, ripping his face away from your touch and exhaling, making you gasp in shock. “i’ve always fucking known.”

“what?” you gasped, heart thudding a million miles a minute as a feeling akin to embarrassment and dread began creeping up from the pit of your stomach. “w-why you didn’t say anything?”

“i was hoping you’d never figure it out.” he replied, sounding guilty. “i mean, look at me. i’d be nothing more to you than a fleeting crush, y/n.”

“you’re not!” you exclaimed, burying your face in your hands. “i think you know it. and that the only reason why you didn’t act upon it was,” you corrected yourself. “no, is, because you feel the exact same way.” you peer at him from the crevices of your fingers, and meet his gaze dead-on. yoongi looked somewhat resigned, and a strange swirl of both giddiness and fear caused you to hesitate. “is it true?”

“it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not.” yoongi got up from the couch, walking towards his studio. you shot up after him and tugged his arm, making him turn back.

“what do you mean? of course it matters! it means we can-“

“what, y/n? ignore the fact that i’m ten years older than you? that i’m your brother’s best friend? that i’m just some washed up producing student with a one-hit wonder and no stable income who doesn’t fucking deserve you?” he pulled his arm away, and for the first time that night, the atmosphere is tense and brooding, as if it’s warning you to leave it as it is. but you’ve always been one to fight back.

“i don’t care about that!” you snapped, hands balled into fists at your sides. how could he not understand? “all i’ve ever wanted is you!”

“y/n,” he rubs his face with his palm, and you know what’s about to come out of his mouth before it does. “i’m sorr-“

“no.” you choke out. “come on yoongi, don’t do this.”

“don’t make this harder than it has to be, y/n.”

“then don’t do it.” you plead. “yoongi, please.”

“i can’t.” yoongi said, and you swear nothing has ever hurt like this. he thinks the same, as tears begin freely streaming down your face. he had always been the one to chase them away, and to know that he was the cause of them? that ruined him.


“y/n, just don’t.” suddenly, a pair of full lips pressed against his, and all it took was a second for yoongi to give in, his arms coming around your waist. encouraged, you deepened the kiss, but your inexperienced state quickly made him realise just how wrong this was. he pushed you away slowly, making your face crumple. “y/n-“

“okay.” you cut him off, unwilling to make an even bigger fool of yourself. “i get it.”

“i-i’ll walk you home.”

“don’t bother. see you around, yoongi.” with that, you turn on your heel, walking out of his apartment.

you can’t help but feel a gaping hole where yoongi used to reside in your chest when he doesn’t show up the next day to say goodbye.

Chapter Text

the coffee shop is silent, terse. yoongi doesn’t reach out to touch you, and doesn’t speak. you wish he would. you watch as his mint green hair shines in the luminescence provided by the overhead lighting. you’re the only two customers, the barista slumped against the register with his phone glued to his hand. you don’t think he could hear you even if he wanted to.

“y/n, i,” yoongi starts, causing you to look up at him. the honesty in his eyes is scorching. “i’m sorry for what i said.”

“it’s fine.” you replied, ignoring the pain blooming in your chest. that wasn’t what you wanted to hear him say, but you guess you should have gotten used to not getting what you wanted by now. you were thinking more along the lines of those three special words, the ones that seemed to light up in bright neon colours in your head, the ones you always associated with min yoongi. the ones you knew he didn’t feel.

“it’s not.” he groaned, burying a slender-fingered hand into his hair. “i have all these things i want to say to you, i swear. i just don’t know how to say it.”

“then don’t.” you murmured, picking up your cup of herbal tea. “maybe they won’t come out for a reason, yoongi.”

“i think i preferred ‘yoongi-oppa’, actually.”

“i thought you wanted me to stop for your health.” you smiled slightly for the first time that night, causing yoongi’s gummy smile to emerge.

“i thought a lot of things that were wrong, sweetie.” he outstretched his palm, and you got the message, hesitantly placing your much smaller hand in his. he intertwined your fingers instantly, and you were reminded of just how simple things used to be. back when you were fourteen and unaware of why this stubborn boy made your heart race a million miles a second. back when you never even thought to define your relationship with yoongi. back when you hadn’t said a thing about how you felt. “y/n, i was in love with you, too.”

the confession doesn’t shock you, but it does reopen old wounds, what, with the use of past tense, making you steal back your hand. he frowned, and you huffed, looking away. “i figured.”

yoongi releases a long-suffering sigh, causing you to roll your eyes. you’re about to stand up when his finger cradles your chin and moves it so your eyes meet his. when he grins, you realise just how beautiful he is. it isn’t the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last time you think this. “y/n, i’m in love with you.”

your eyes widen comically, and you see a split decision being made in the shine of yoongi’s eyes before a pair of lips descend onto yours. the kiss is nothing and everything like the first time. his lips are still chapped, and his tongue still swipes over your bottom lip, but this time, he kisses you with a fire that didn’t exist. he kisses you like a man starved, and you can feel the pure emotion coursing through his veins through this one exchange. when he finally pulls away for air, he studies you with worried eyes, and when you break into a smile, it disappears. you pull him back in, and one, two, three, four kisses later, you realise just how wrong your thoughts were. you thought you wouldn’t be able to love him more, and you’re proven wrong. like you are again and again and again when it comes to min yoongi.

but a question still lingers in your head.

“why didn’t you say so? back then.” you ask, and the euphoric state of his smile is dampened, but he answers anyway.

“i’m twenty-nine, y/n. you may not think much of just how different twenty and twenty-nine is, but i do. and i did back then. i didn’t want you to be tied down to some guy people would think was just taking advantage of you. i still think that.”

“yoongi, i don’t care about that.” you explain gently, touching the back of his hand. you ease your hand into his, an instant feeling of home reverberating from within you. “i never did. all i’ve ever wanted is you.”

“but doesn’t it matter to you? what people are going to say?” he looked up to meet your gaze. you smiled softly.

“not when it comes to me and you. i think caring too much about what people have to say screwed us over enough the first time.” yoongi still looked unsure, and you grinned. “come on, old man, live a little.”

“old man, huh? let’s go.” with that, he stood up, offering his hand to you. you furrowed your brows, but took it anyway, and his palm was a steady anchor against yours as you two braved the windy weather. yoongi dropped his hand, and before you could open your mouth to complain, his arm went around your shoulder, huddling you close to him. you burrowed in even closer.

“where are we going?” you peered up to look at him. he smirked, and you swear your insides melted a little.

“you want a tattoo, don’t you?”

“holy shit, really?” you squealed.

“come on.”

and you realise that your love for min yoongi? it’s endless.

Chapter Text

from your perch on the edge of the tattoo chair, you can see yoongi very much in his element. you watch as he sterilises his needles, picks up the tattoo gun, and walks over to you with a sort of predatory look in his eyes. you smile coyly in return, crossing your legs together.

“so what do you want?” yoongi asks, sitting down on a rolling stool across of you.

“my boyfriend’s initials.” you answer jokingly, causing him to chuckle. “there was a design, actually. i saw it in one of the albums.”

he gets up, and picks up a few leather-bound books, passing them over to you. you run your fingers page after page before your eyes finally land on it. “this one.” you pipe up, flipping the book around. yoongi suddenly stalks over to you, taking the book and gripping the page so hard the plastic cover over the design crinkles. a burst of nervousness builds up within you. “what’s wrong?”

“y/n, i,” he trails off, before looking at you. “don’t freak out, okay?”

you tilt your head to the side in confusion, but nod anyway. you regret it immediately when yoongi begins pulling up the black shirt he’s wearing. you ignore the heat rising up from your neck as the smooth, pale planes of his side is slowly revealed. he turns his body slightly, and you gasp. right on the left side of his abdomen is the black characters in the design. you unconsciously reach out your hand, before pausing halfway. you’re about to retract it when yoongi keeps it in place, holding your hand to touch the tattoo.

when your fingers graze his skin, you feel a jolt of electricity begin to flow through your veins. he comes closer to you as your hands run over his side.

“what does it mean?” you ask, your voice raspier and hoarse.

“hwayangyeonhwa.” yoongi answers, smiling softly at you from behind his mop of mint green hair. “the most beautiful moment in life.”

“when did you get it?” your hand is still placed firmly on his skin like a brand.

“a little after i realised how i felt about you.” your eyes shoot up, and there’s nothing but pure honesty and adoration in his gaze. “so that would be around maybe 4 years ago.”

“that’s just a tad bit creepy, min yoongi.”

“trust me, i know.” yoongi rolled down his shirt, and you pull your hand away. “why do you think i stopped hanging around you so much, y/n-ah?”

“i don’t know.” you shrugged, jostling around in the chair to get comfortable. “i guess i thought you were just sick of hanging out with a sixteen year old.”

“i would never get sick of you.” he said, leaning in to kiss you. you chase the taste of coffee on his tongue, and it’s not long before he’s sat underneath you, your thighs purchased on the side of his legs. before you can pull him in deeper, he pulls away, breathing heavily. “don’t want to get too carried away before we ink you up.”

“what if i want to get carried away?”

“baby, trust me, i’d want to take my time with you.” yoongi’s eyes darkened with desire, and you feel a pool of wetness drip between your thighs.

“oppa, come on.” you whined, grinding down on his lap. you felt his member slowly stiffen up, and his pupils blow up even wider.

“you’re going to be the death of me, kim y/n.” his face fell in on your shoulder, and you grinned, unable to stop the joy radiating from your very being. you finally had him. you reached your hands up to card them through his hair, before making a face.

“your hair feels like straw!” you exclaimed, and he pulled his head away, sticking out his tongue.

“and there she is.” he drawled, patting your thigh to motion for you to get off his lap. you did so, letting out an over-exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. “come on, what do you want done? i want to be home before 11.” he switched to his stool, and you returned onto the seat.

“old man.” you grumbled. “what do you mean ‘what do i want done’? i want the hwayangyeonhwa!”

“you want a matching tattoo with me?” yoongi asked carefully, his elbows on his knees. “you sure?”

“of course i am.” you replied, swinging your feet back and forth. “when am i not when it comes to you, min yoongi?”

he grins, rolling his eyes fondly, before grabbing a stencil. “where do you want it done, princess?”

you coloured at his choice of wording, before a wicked idea blossomed in your head. you began to pull up the hem of your dress, but a veiny hand stopped you.

“what do you think you’re doing?” yoongi raised an eyebrow, and you smirked in return.

“showing you where i want my tattoo.” you continued pulling up your dress, noting his sharp inhale when the lacy blue of your panties were revealed. you pulled the skirt up onto your mid-stomach before meeting his eyes. you laughed at his gaze. “hipbone, oppa.”

“that’s gonna hurt.” he commented once he shook himself awake from his reverie, his voice breathier than usual.

“good thing i have someone to hold onto.”

“alright, then. lean back for me, sweetie.”

you did so, getting comfortable as yoongi settled in between your legs. you felt a a fresh stream of wetness gush out of your nether regions, and by the look on his face, he noticed it.

“fuck, i could get used to this.” he groaned. “look at how wet you are already. how long has it been since something entered your pretty little pussy, princess?”

you moaned slightly, your back arching off the chair. “come on, yoongi, don’t you want me?”

“you’re going to be a good girl for me, right, baby?” you nodded. “this is going to hurt, but you tell me to stop and i will, okay?” you huffed when you realised he was talking about the tattoo, before yelping when he pinched the side of your hip teasingly. “okay?”

“okay.” you agreed, and he slowly placed the stencil where you motioned for it to be. unfortunately for you, he didn’t even blink when you rolled down the side of your panties to do so. he lathered up your hipbone with plenty of lotion, before laying the stencil down and smoothing it out.

“that’s the stencil done. now,” yoongi looked up at you. “if you want to stop at any time, let me know. if it hurts, let me know. if you need something to hold, let me know.”

you nodded in reply, a sudden fear gripping you. he seemed to sense it, and took off one glove to cup your cheek. you leaned into his touch.

“it’s gonna be okay. i’m here.” he smiled reassuringly, and you did the same, albeit weakly, in reply. “ready?”


a slow buzzing began to fill the air as the first line appeared on your skin. you gripped onto the side of the chair, forcing yourself not to jolt as the pain began to bloom.

“hold onto me.” yoongi said, and you didn’t hesitate to grab onto the hem of his shirt, right above his chest, pulling him closer than he already was.

you held onto him tightly as the buzzing continued. it wasn’t long before the pain dulled, and you got used to the feeling of running ants across your skin. you watched as yoongi’s face melded into deep concentration, his little pink tongue peeking out from the side of his mouth. you choose to focus on that instead, you raise a hand to rub the nap of his neck, causing his mouth to twitch into a smile.

“you keep doing that and you’re going to end up with a wonky tattoo, honey.”

you grin in return, and the buzzing stops.

“linework done. shading now.” he grinned at you. “good job so far, princess.”

“do i get a reward?” you ask playfully.

“i think it’s more for me than it is for you, actually.” you’re about to ask what that means when yoongi begins to slide your panties down. you moan when the roughness of the fabric rubs against your core, and feel the cool air brush across. “look at you.” yoongi growls, leaning in closer. “so pink and pretty for me.” you almost come at the sight of his predatory expression. you can’t help but jerk your hips forward, and he-

“oh!” you exclaim breathily when his hand comes down to slap your pussy gently.

“be a good girl for me, and you might get an even bigger reward, okay sweetie?”

“o-okay.” you reply eagerly, and yoongi shoots you a smirk before bringing in another needle.

“ready?” you nod, and he starts up the machine. it’s quick, and you can’t help but be entranced by the way the dark ink fills into the outlines of the tattoo. the buzzing becomes a sort of background music as yoongi continues moving the gun back and forth. you’re so enraptured in watching the design that you don’t realise a hand creeping up to your core until a slender finger enters you.

your reaction is immediate, and yoongi seems to have already anticipated it, pressing down on your hips to stop you from flailing.

“o-oh my god, yoongi.” you moan, closing your eyes in ecstasy. the finger leisurely pumps in and out of you, and you almost cry at the slow speed of it. “yoongi, please.”

“please what?” he chuckles, a low baritone sound, and you open your hazy eyes, meeting his coy ones. “tell me what you want, baby.”

“i want your cock, oppa, please.” you beg, causing him to smirk.

“almost done, sweetie.” yoongi cooed, continuing to fill in your tattoo as if his other hand wasn’t preoccupied with fingering you. you cried out in protest, and suddenly, the sound of the squelching of your juices on his fingers, as well as the movement of them, stopped completely. “didn’t you say you were going to be a good girl for me? why are you being such a little brat?”

“oppa, i’m sorry.” you sobbed. “p-please, i need your fingers.”

yoongi ignored you, pulling his lone finger out of your aching cunt, his other hand finishing up your design. you clenched around nothing, but remained still, hoping that if you did so, he’d continue where he left off. soon enough, you felt your high wear off, and the buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped. he lathered up our hipbone with lotion before covering it up with a sheet of cling plastic.

“all done.” he stated, getting up from the chair. you sniffled, sitting up to see his handiwork. your fingers danced over the ink lightly, and you smiled softly at the permanent etching on your skin.

“pretty.” you noted, looking up to meet his eyes. “aftercare?”

“don’t worry about it.” yoongi replied, “i’ll do it for you.”

“you’re going to come over everyday just to help me shower?”

“of course. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t?”

“you never said you were.” you swung off the chair, walking towards the mirror. you watched as yoongi rolled his eyes fondly.

“do you want me to ask?”


“kim y/n,” you giggled, turning around when you felt his arms wrap around your middle. yoongi leaned his forehead against yours, and your lips were a hair’s breadth away. “will you be my girlfriend?”

“i’ll need to think about it.” you answered playfully, laughing when the man clicked his tongue. “of course i will, min yoongi.” with that, he captured your lips into a bruising kiss, one that left you breathless. his tongue fought yours for dominance before he ultimately win. your hands fell around his shoulders, and suddenly, a thick thigh situated itself between your legs, making you gasp.

“c’mon, precious, let’s see how wet i can get you with just this.” yoongi’s tongue licked around your neck, and you bared it. “won’t you be a good girl for me, angel?”

you nodded desperately, beginning to move your hips against his thigh. his reaction is instantaneous- the unparting of his mouth, the deep groans escaping his lips, the way he grips you that much closer to him. you leak onto his jeans, the friction of your lacy panties providing you with a delicious friction. yoongi watches you come apart on his thigh, the way you grind even harder against him and beg for something more. he feels the wetness from your pussy on his pants, and moans from the sensation of you on him.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful.” he reveres, and you look up at him, your pupils blown and your chest heaving. yoongi swears he almost comes from the sight. you quiver over him, and grab onto his shoulders as you gyrate faster against him, chasing your lost high. you feel it build up in you, and judging by the expression on your boyfriend’s face, he does too. you move faster, and you’re almost, almost there. “are you coming, sweetie?”

you nod furiously, about to come undone, when-

“no!” you exclaim, when yoongi tears his thigh away from your cunt, leaving you on wobbly knees. he’s quick to hold you, securing you in his strong arms and manoeuvring you onto your preciously-occupied tattoo chair. you feel his lips on your sweaty forehead, and you sob at the loss of friction.

“i wanna watch you.” yoongi says, his voice raspy. “wanna eat you out.”

you sniffle pathetically, and his eyes darken with lust. suddenly, he crouches down in front of you, and peels your underwear down, down, down. you shake when you feel the first tentative lick on your cunt. yoongi smirks at this, and does it again, licks up a thick stripe on your opening. you moan, an undiluted sound, and grasp his hair in your hands. you pull on it as he begins licking you with a vigour. his tongue moves at a steady, unrelenting pattern. it enters and exits quickly, leaving you bucking against his face for more. if anything, yoongi doesn’t mind it, continuing his treatment. you feel the waves crash upon you, and you let go of his hair, choosing to grip onto the armrests of the chair, and the thread comes looser and looser before-

“oppa, i’m coming!” you whine, and feel yoongi’s smile against your pussy.

“go on, then.” he coos, and you do. you come into his awaiting mouth, and he holds you still by your hips as you ease off of your high. you catch your breath, and yoongi gets up from his knees. “you taste so fucking good.” with that, he leans in to kiss you, and you let him, tasting yourself on his tongue. you pull him closer, and feel his throbbing member against your stomach. you sneak a hand down, down, down, and palm it, making him hiss.

“want you to fuck me.” you slur, still woozy from your euphoric state. “wanna feel your come inside me. wanna be full.”

yoongi goes visceral. he pulls off his jeans and boxers in one go, and you’re left speechless at the sight of his cock. it’s standing proud, bucked against his stomach, thick and impossible long, the head of it leaking profusely. unknowingly, you lick your bottom lip and reach out, touching his head and smearing the precum onto your fingers. yoongi moans, a deep, low, guttural sound, and you bring your hand up into your mouth, licking on your fingers and tasting him. you whimpered at the taste, but before you could do it again, yoongi moved on top of you, positioning himself above your pussy and sliding up and down teasingly.

“oppa, oppa, please.” you begged, shaking with need. “please, fuck me.”

“how could i ever say no to you?” he chuckled, before slamming into you. your face crumples. it’s a tight fit, but the mix of pain and pleasure doesn’t bother you as he sinks into your heat. yoongi starts to rut against you, pulling in and out, giving you no time to adjust. “who do you belong to?” he growls into your shoulder, his pace unrelentless.

“y-you.” you gasp, your fingernails grasping onto his back. you relish at the sound he makes when they rake down.



the force at which he fucks into you makes the chair shake, a squeaking sound reverberating alongside the lewd slapping of skin. yoongi hammers into you, consumed by the feeling of your velvet walls around his cock. he presses gentle kisses against the column of your throat, a clear juxtaposition from the way he thrusts into you. he knows you’re about to come again, with the way you’re barely hanging onto him. wordlessly, he trails a hand down your stomach, before placing his palm against your clit. your eyes widen when he begins grinding it against your core as well.

“o-oppa, i’m gonna come.” you manage to say. never would you imagine a day where min yoongi manages to leave you incoherent.

“come for me, baby girl.” yoongi orders, and you do so instantly. your pussy tightens around his cock before you release. you clench around him tightly, making him groan. “fuck, i’m gonna come.”

“inside.” you babble. “inside, oppa. wanna feel you in my pussy.”

he thrusts in, once, twice, thrice, before dropping his head into your neck. his cock twitches inside you, pulsating, before he comes. a torrent fills you up, and he empties himself inside you.

yoongi slumps down, careful not to crush you under his weight, and lies down beside you, letting you curl around him. moments later, you manage to catch your breath, and peer up to see him already looking at you with a tender smile.

“i love you.” yoongi murmurs, making you grin.

“i love you, too.” you kiss him softly, feeling his smile against your lips, making your teeth clack together.

it’s silent, before-

“fuck, jin’s gonna kill me.”

your ensuing laughter echoes in the empty room, and yoongi swears he wants to hear it for the rest of his life.