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Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 5

“Intimacy was about power, worth, and gain, and I thought that was all there was to it, but… I don’t… feel that way with you.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Falling down the rabbit hole has its perks and consequences.

WORD COUNT: 9.6k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, scars and mentions of abuse, unprotected sex, handcuffs, blood, implied violence, arguing and misunderstandings

A.N. I can't have a fic without Yoongi suffering with my OCs... Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Enjoy 🔥🔥

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You woke up feeling particularly snuggly, tucked with heavy blankets around you. Normally, that would have made you shake your arms and legs to get free, but this time you didn’t feel compelled to. In your daze, you realized it smelled good, and you didn’t want to leave that cozy cocoon. But then you figured out that your pillow was an arm, and your hand darted under your dress to your knife.

The blade was to his throat before you could even make out who he was. Then, your gears slowly turned as a few strands of his hair shifted across his forehead to his eyes as he languidly woke up.

Yoongi was naked behind you, with one arm under your head and the pillow, and the other wrapped around your middle. You doubted he felt your blade to his windpipe because his perfect skin didn’t have one single wrinkle of worry, not even when he opened his eyes a bit and saw you. Quite the opposite; he stretched without letting go of you as if waking up like that was just another Saturday, and you chuckled.

“I fell asleep,” you admitted, more to yourself than him, as you put the knife away. You didn’t do that; that was not your thing.

“Good. How do you feel?”

His raspy voice gave you goosebumps, and you turned your face the other way, giving him your back again. You shouldn’t feel this safe and relaxed, there was no such thing. But he was a cop, so if not with him, then with who?

You sighed. He was a goody two shoes; of course, he’d ask you about your well-being.

“Better than ever, ready for another one.”

He hummed and adjusted his head on his pillow, not coming closer, and you pouted and pretended to stretch so you could fall back into him.

You grinned, “And so are you, it seems.”

You rubbed your ass against his crotch shamelessly, smiling as you expected him to push you off and tell you to leave. 

But he sighed, “It’s okay, it will go away.”

Your lips pursed instantly. You didn’t want his hard-on to fizzle out, you wanted him hard and crazy to have you. You wanted him to fight the urge to have you and pretend to be all lawful when in reality, he was dying to stick it in a mob boss like you.

You spoke quietly, “I don’t want it to.”

He didn’t move behind you, and you wondered if he had heard you as you hadn’t admitted it too loud. When you thought to turn your head to check and show your pout, his arm around you moved. Your protest was on the tip of your tongue, but you held it back because he didn’t move away. Instead, his hand landed on your hip softly, resting between the cover and your dress for a moment as if to allow you to slap it away.

You didn’t, and he continued slowly. He palmed down your leg where he could reach before returning, feeling your stomach and side almost respectfully. It made you wiggle in his arms, a little restless, but as your head fell back, you felt him. He was right behind you, instantly nuzzling you through your hair, taking you in. It was the most intimate moment you had ever lived — a singular palm on your lower stomach keeping you close, while he breathed in the sweet scent of your hair. You probably still had some concussion-related dizziness, but you doubted it was just that. Your body was melting, captivated by his gentle nature in a way you didn’t know could entice you.

But it did because the moment he moved to touch the skin of your neck, you let him. You sighed with the flutters his fingertips left behind and pressed yourself more to him when he reached your collarbones. At that moment, you completely surrendered to his touch, hoping he wouldn’t stop. Hoping he would see the barriers you always held up and ignore them, finally reaching you. 

His fingers were gentle, almost shy when tracing the sleeve of your dress, but a longing sigh of yours was enough. His pointer pulled it the slightest, letting it loose over your shoulder, and you pulled the same shoulder back into him, telling him to go on. 

You didn’t hide how eager you were for his touch; when the sleeve got stuck on your arm, you bent forward so he could access the dress zipper, and helped him get both sleeves off.

Only then did your breath get caught as he traced the marks down your arms. Usually, you covered them with make-up or clothes, and otherwise, you didn’t let anyone see them. The slightest discomfort prickled you, confronted with the scars and memories of things you didn’t want to relive, but then Yoongi moved on. He moved over the cigarette burn scars your father gave you as if they weren’t worth his time, and it brought tears to your eyes.

Instead, he traced every inch of your skin down your sides and to your front, touching your chest when you eagerly got rid of your bra too. His lips met your shoulder, and you knew he could see your naked body as you trembled under his touch, but it didn’t bother you. He was gentle, admiring you, but grazing his nails and pinching your hard nipples too.

You jolted into him, arching your back, and it felt like the dress was smothering, preventing you from chasing everything fully. So you pulled it down your legs and sighed when his heated skin glued to your back and ass, spooning you in his embrace.

His lips brushed the skin under your ear, then nibbled and licked your ear, and you squirmed into him. He wasn’t in a hurry, as if taking his sweet time was the full experience, but you were impatient by nature. 

You called for him eagerly, “Yoongi…”

And in arching your back to make yourself as accessible as possible, he got your message loud and clear. He grabbed the flesh of your outer thigh to lift it, then aligned himself with you and imposed a rhythm on your hips. You groaned, your head falling back as you let him completely maneuver you on his dick. It was even better than if it had been you, much slower, too. It was as if he wanted you to take every detail of him connecting with you, forcing your warm heat to take him while his other arm held you to his chest.

It felt like nothing ever had, and you couldn’t wrap your derailing train of thought around it. His embrace kept you tucked in, flush to his firm chest, while his hand made you wail with every slap of his hips to your ass by supporting your hip. You didn’t know you liked it up close and personal like this; hell, you didn’t even think you’d like to relent control over yourself like this. But the more he made your hips sway so you’d fall perfectly against him, the more you conceded that you liked it—a lot.

Every time his big hand pulled you back, you anticipated the feeling of his thick cock pushing through your walls, and even more when he reached deep. Surely, he did it on purpose because suddenly, every time he filled you, you could feel the kiss of his tip to your cervix, making you keen. Yet even if you writhed, he didn’t let you get away, making you fall into him even harder, and nibbling on your neck for good measure.

You were so hot, your brain was overheating. Strands of your hair glued to your forehead while your hands tried to hold on to anything between the sheets, pillows, and his arms, both wanting him to fuck you so much harder and so much slower before the fire starting in your core had time to catch up with you.

He must have realized your desperation, because he groaned and suckled the skin behind your ear, between sticky strands of hair, right before his hand abandoned your hip to disappear between your legs.

You jolted when his fingers began tracing circles on your eager clit, and for a moment, you lost track of reality. You squirmed in his arms, waves of hot pleasure making it hard to breathe and comprehend what was happening. The pressure on your clit made you throb around him, but it wasn’t enough. His hips had slowed, not reaching as deep without his guiding hand, and you were left in limbo.

“Come on,” he whispered into your ear, and you couldn’t decide if it was sweet or a taunt.

Regardless, you started fucking yourself on his cock, whimpering with how his fingers complemented your feverish movements. You couldn’t see how hungrily he was looking at your whole body trembling, searching for pleasure in his arms, but you could feel the way you were melting down his dick, making his fingers slide easily while he breathed heavily near your ear.  You couldn’t breathe, afraid that something as simple could stop your looming climax. Still, passionate whimpers left your lips every time you sank down, desperately needing his cock so deep inside you.

Yoongi was normally quiet, so feeling his heavy breathing on your neck was enough for you. Still, when he spoke, it electrified you, “Squeeze them— Let me see—”

His raspy voice made you clench hard, the thought of playing with your tits for him to see pushing you the extra mile. You didn’t let go of that new current and instantly let go of the sheets to grab your tits and squeeze them.

Your moan pitched to a wail and he pushed himself deeper inside you, “Fuck—”

His low voice made you shiver from head to toe and you came with a strangled moan, arching your back when he restarted fucking into you harder, even as he rubbed your clit to make your orgasm last.

He probably loved the way you were throbbing and crying, and you adored the desperate way he was sheathing himself into you until he popped, twitching in a perfect kiss to your cervix that made you scream.

Yoongi drove the late streets of Seoul with a sense of ease. He wasn’t much for sentimentalities, but he did think that was an easy road to remember if it ever came to that.

He supported his head on his hand while he waited for the light to turn. He wasn’t upset with you, just worried. Waking up next to you the day before was a pleasant surprise in many ways; maybe it was the same for you. You had been clearly startled, but the way you let go and let him touch and see you for the first time was incredible.

In the afterglow of your bodies trembling together, you let him hug you and touch you to his heart’s content, and as it turned out, it wasn’t easily content. He traced your sweaty body from head to toe, starting with his nose buried in your hair and ending up massaging your toes sometime later. He especially saw the scars on your arms but didn’t mention them. As a cop, he had seen marks of violence often, and those in particular evoked parental abuse. He didn’t know much about you, but he could guess your childhood hadn’t been easy.

You asked him about showering and he pointed to the ensuite bathroom, but then you raised your arms, waiting to be carried. He had heaved a deep breath but he wasn’t as annoyed as he thought he’d be. Instead, he picked you up and carried you into the walk-in shower, staying with you in a wordless embrace while the water poured down on you both.

He could admit he got carried away, too relaxed in your presence to think about what you two were doing. Even when you kissed slowly with the splash of water falling over your shoulders, when he pushed you gently to the wall, or when he grabbed your hair to keep you close, you didn’t protest for a second. You grabbed his waist, kissed him back, and accompanied him through every sensation.

Then, you smiled and said you were thirsty, and when he suggested getting you something, you said you’d do it yourself. He knew then you’d be gone once he got out of the shower, but he stayed quiet. He’d never insist that you stay; you didn’t know each other, and it didn’t make sense.

But he couldn’t help his worry, his vagrant thoughts, and a deep, hidden urge to check if you were alright. So there he was, stopped in front of the gate of your house, facing the camera while he waited for whoever worked for you to decide if he could get in. Even though he had your number and knew you were looked after by attentive staff. Even if it was none of his business.

“I’m opening it,” said a dry male voice through the speaker, and Yoongi only held onto the steering wheel, looking ahead.

He didn’t know what to tell you. He stopped the car in front of your garage, got out, and mindlessly walked to the open front door. In the back of his mind, he was getting worked up. What would he tell you? You’d ask what he wanted, but he had nothing to ask. You’d tease him for looking for you, for not getting enough, and he couldn’t deny it without lying to your face, so what the hell could he say?

Your butler guided him upstairs, someplace he had never been but couldn’t really pay any mind to. Not until a big mahogany door opened suddenly and all he saw was a large king-size bed in the back before being grabbed by your hand and pulled in.

You didn’t speak; just kissed him and touched him like you were starving, and fucked him like it too. He felt the sting from scratches you left on his shoulders the whole day, shuddering at the memories of the moans they came with.

He thought that was a one-time thing; you had casually told him you were fine and had work to do, and he didn’t raise objections. He got dressed, left, and kept his thoughts to himself, glad you were feeling better and didn’t ask anything more.

But the next day, you showed up at his place sometime before midnight. He was startled, seeing you on his couch when just minutes before it was empty. He was about to ask you how it was that you got inside his house so easily in the few minutes it took him to take a leak, but you were not in a sharing mood. You reached to unbutton his pants and not a lot of talking was involved in what followed.

It never was; you two didn’t really talk, but you did other things. You saw each other every day, taking turns going to the other’s house, and there was a lot of moaning and sweating, but not a lot of words exchanged 

Every day, he wondered if that would be the day you wouldn’t be home, or if you wouldn’t visit. But as the days became weeks, it became a routine he got used to way too easily. He gave you the benefit of being consistent, always showing up at 10 PM so you had the rest of the night to work on your endeavors. Unfortunately, you didn’t give him the same grace, but you had other perks — like always having a drink with him, a tease, or simply a goodnight kiss that always left him bittersweet about parting ways.

He refused to think about any of it too deeply. Who you were, what you did; how whatever you two were doing would be perceived. How a few enemies would love to learn about you, and vice versa. Not to mention he wanted your moments together to last, not to just turn his back and walk away. 

But as time went on, all those thoughts became sidenotes. There had been no rumors or talk about a possible affiliation between the two of you, your work hadn’t intersected, and he now had good whiskey and gin at his place so he could offer you a drink whenever you visited him, too.

It all turned on its head when you didn’t show up one night. Of course, you were never consistent — sometimes you showed up right after dinner, sometimes in the early hours of the morning. Still, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t ask about you directly, so he activated his radio and kept an ear on the police transmissions while drinking one glass after another in his office, just waiting.

The first rays of dawn were kissing the sky when you opened the door to his office. You found him on his chair, staring at the ceiling with the broadcast still on, wearing his coat as if he was ready to storm out. The dark circles under his eyes and a half-drunk bottle of liquor on the desk made you smile and lean on the door frame.

“I chose the right night to be late. You’re still working?”

Yoongi didn’t answer you; he didn’t even comment on your long, red dress. The cocktail party you attended had lasted beyond your wishes, making it hard to call it a night. You thought it would be worth it in the end because at least Yoongi would see you in that dress and tell you how beautiful you looked, as usual. But he was quiet, and you pouted.

He took the glass in his hand to his lips to finish the last traces of liquor before brushing his lips absentmindedly, and you stepped toward him without hiding your pout.

“Am I interrupting?” You perched yourself on the desk in front of him so he’d give you all his attention instead. “You knew I—”

He got up suddenly, slamming the glass on the desktop next to you before pulling your legs around him in a smooth motion, “You’re late.”

You opened your mouth, confused by his annoyance when you were the one entitled to being annoyed, but his mouth on yours shut you up. The way he kissed you was hungry, eager, not letting you settle for one second, not even to breathe. You moaned into his mouth, loving those deep, tongue-tied battles you always had, especially with the smoky whiskey taste coming from him.

The more he pressed you to him and ravished your mouth, the more you wanted to laugh euphorically and tease him endlessly. You thought he’d be too busy to be with you, but he seemed just as eager as you to call it a night and forget about the world.

He moved to kiss your neck, and you managed to smirk, but your words died on your tongue. His fingers went under your dress, searching your core while he got himself free of his pants. You shuddered and kept him close, listening attentively to his groan when he found out you didn’t have panties on.

“Took them off in the car,” you whispered in his ear, nuzzling him. “Don’t need them here.”

You knew he agreed because in seconds he was pushing himself through your entrance, invading your warmth as he had done so many times. You whimpered and he held onto you more firmly, pulling you flush to him so his cock filled you to the brim.

Your chin dropped, as did your eyelids, the pleasure relaxing you instantly to build a familiar lull of pleasure. He moved between your legs, and you helped him, grabbing onto his shoulders, and piercing your nails through his coat when he started speeding up his thrusts.

“Is this what I get for being late?” You said, with the tension making your tone harsh. “Might just start doing it more often just to get you to fuck me like this.”

His hand on the back of your neck instantly shifted to grab your hair by the roots, making you look him dead in the eyes. His harsh gaze was enough for you to know he didn’t want that, and your lips twitched in a small smile before they had to contort to moan from the pleasure rippling through you. You also preferred to be on time, especially to be with him.

It was hard to rebut he had grown attached to you. He knew what it looked like but it wasn’t that; he was genuinely worried about you and at ease whenever he saw you.

Still, he wasn’t delusional — he didn’t expect anything from you and had to remind himself that you were a free woman. If the day came when you didn’t show up or kicked him out, he could do nothing but accept it.

However, he found himself deeper in your life with every passing day. He had fucked you all over your house; hell, even on the stairs, despite the people that could see you if they passed nearby. Your office was your favorite, so it wasn’t strange to find you there.

Still, your frown was, and also that you didn’t stop to welcome him with a sly smile. On the contrary, you gripped your hair after noticing him, then threw a look at the cabinet holding the liquor before turning back to your paperwork.

“You’re tense,” he commented as he poured you both drinks.

“No kidding,” you bit out, before sighing into your chair.

He neared you with the drinks and placed both down, deciding to massage your shoulders first.

You opened your mouth in surprise before a low groan escaped your lips. His slender fingers pushing at the flesh under your neck was fucking divine.

You kept sighing and occasionally whimpering under his ministrations and he never asked what was wrong. You liked that but thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring it up.

“One of my clients detected a gap in his numbers,” you started quietly. “He’s accusing me of fucking up, and I was ready to tell him to fuck off, but he’s right.” You sighed with pleasure tinged with anxiety. “Something is up between my numbers and his, and I’m stuck. I can’t risk getting on his bad side, not after… playing it risky a few months back.”

You didn’t face Yoongi as you spoke, but he could tell none of your uneasiness was from talking to him. Quite the contrary, you weren’t as agitated because it was him. Because he had his hands on you. He found it endearing, even if he knew what you were talking about surely involved the money laundering he secretly knew you had going on.

“If we’re talking numbers, then maybe it’s something you can get to the bottom of,” he started quietly, with a low, steady voice. “Those things leave paper or digital trails and you know who the intermediary is.”

You frowned slightly, “I trust them.”

“Then maybe your client is trying to fuck you over.”

You spun your chair to look at him as if you just had a thought, then you got up and grabbed your phone. “Sit.”

He knew that to question you was a waste of time, so he sat on the office chair and you sat on his lap. You proceeded to have an extensive conversation on the phone, the content of which was lost on him. If not because the details eluded him, then because you kept rubbing your ass on his crotch and it was distracting. 

He knew you felt his boner, but making him crazy was only an afterthought; a kick while you took care of things. The conversation must have been going well because you didn’t take long to slide your underwear down your legs, staying with your ass up over the desk, waiting for him to get his dick out.

As soon as you heard his zipper, you sat back, counting on him to aim his cock where it needed to go. You were so warm and tight, that he almost groaned, but it was your silence that got to him. He didn’t care if you were on the phone, you were never silent when you took his dick.

He brushed your long hair aside and bit the back of your neck in retaliation before letting it go. You slid up and down his shaft at your leisure, coating him handsomely, even if your voice was steady on the phone. At that point, he couldn’t care less; he had all the evidence he needed that you were feeling good, maybe even better than usual. Maybe you liked holding a conversation while pretending you weren’t riding his thick cock. He was tempted to challenge you, but you were stressed already; he’d rather give you a good time.

The moment you put the phone down, your motions changed, riding him fast, pressing yourself down his cock so hard he could feel his tip hitting your cervix the moment you came. You were breathless with tiny moans, the electrical discharge through your body making you tremble on his lap. He knew all the signs already, so he knew that orgasm was tainted by your stress and didn’t leave you fully satisfied.

He didn’t oppose you getting up and checking your phone. He stayed put, looking down at his creamed hard cock, stiff in the air, knowing he just had to be patient.

And indeed, a moment later you grinned and threw your phone on the desk like you were done. You grabbed the drink he had prepared earlier, handing him his own with a crooked smile, “Aren’t you the juiciest throne I’ve ever seen.”

He took the glass to his lips, unable to hide the twitch of his shaft at your comment. 

You chuckled, “Is that an invitation? Cause I’ll gladly take it.” He finished his glass, ready, and you smirked, “Come along, then. Because of your advice, I’m done with work for now, and I’m in the mood to keep riding you in my bed.”

He got up, fumbling with his clothes, and you rolled your eyes.

“You can have a smoke after, I don’t want to wait.”

He was trying to hide his dick, even if he knew it was fine, but now he was worried. He felt all his pockets, then groaned, “Fuck, I forgot them.”

You raised your eyebrows; that was a first. “Don’t worry, I’ll ask Sooyong to get some.”

You left the room and all he thought was that you were the perfect woman, right before shaking his head and chastising himself. One addiction was enabling the other, that was all.

It didn’t take long to find himself naked on your bed, loving every second of you edging him and enjoying yourself on his lap. He didn’t know if it was to celebrate you finding a way to deal with your problem, his help, or just a normal Tuesday night, but it mattered little when you were on top of him like that.

He realized later it did matter when you put your clothes back on, walked out, and came back in with your phone, a pack of his favorite cigarettes, and a huge smile when you threw yourself next to him.

“You were right. My client doesn’t know I have people on his team, and guess what? He asked someone to make it look like shit was missing,” you smirked, then threw your phone on the nightstand and opened the pack. “Now I have proof that he fucked it, so I can keep him in line.” You put a cigarette between his lips and lit it up yourself. “There you go…” Your voice was tender, but your smile was cunning. “Gotta keep you around for the next time I need advice.”

That was the start of the two of you talking. Yoongi didn’t think it would go anywhere — a criminal and a cop; what was there to talk about?

But as it turned out, there was a lot. Both were careful to keep sensitive information and names out of the equation, but it was surprisingly easy talking to each other about work. If Yoongi complained about a case, you were aware of it. If you were frustrated with some politician being stupid, he knew exactly what you meant. You stayed away from each other’s turfs, but you started talking more and more, to the point that a part of your rendezvous was dedicated to sharing the latest developments and venting frustrations.

Going to your place at 10 PM was the norm, and you not being there was not necessarily something to be worried about. Especially, because he could hear the shower going in your ensuite bathroom when he got to your room, so he got comfortable. 

He was getting rid of his tie and coat on a nearby sofa when he saw clothes fallen to the floor beside it and picked them up. Instantly, his fingers touched something wet but tacky, and the ferrous smell hit him before he saw the blood. He didn’t have to think twice; the clothes were yours and he had to make sure you were safe.

He dropped the clothes on the floor, pulled his pistol from the holster of his belt, and stepped silently to your bathroom, but you came out in time, wrapped in a towel and smiling widely when you saw him.

“Hi! I was just freshening up,” you got close and laced your arms around his neck, completely dismissing the gun in his hand. 

He eyed behind you quickly before cupping your cheek to make sure you were truly relaxed and safe. Then he put his pistol safely back in the holster and pulled you closer by the waist.

“What do you want to drink tonight?”

Yoongi hummed, but he couldn’t focus on your question. “Who was it?”

His voice was quiet as he motioned the clothes with his chin. Not because he couldn’t ask; after months of sharing your life, bed, and thoughts daily, he could. But because there were lines, and one of them was you being in danger.

“It’s not mine,” you smiled, but it fell when you realized that wouldn’t be enough for him to drop the issue. “Just…” You started and your split second of silence told him something was up. “Some guy causing a ruckus in the city… Saw it on TV and thought I should intervene. Law-abiding citizen and all,” you grinned mischievously before spreading your hands over his shoulders and chest in a familiar gesture.

He blinked; TV news channels had started reporting on a case of his department recently. Notably, of a politician dragging Yoongi’s work through the mud.

“You mean Myung Seojun?”

“Well,” you pursed your lips, tracing his collarbones attentively for a second. “He might have been involved,” you said, raising your eyes with a hint of uneasiness, but mostly with challenge. The latter won completely because you raised your hands to his neck, “Nobody messes with what is mine.”

He saw something in your eyes that only made him hold onto you harder. It was in moments like those, he trusted you infinitely more, not just to keep his secrets and have his back, but to feel for him something close to what he felt.

Not that you ever spoke about that. You could as easily fuck all night or day long, or talk about the problems rooted deeply in the governmental system, but what you two were effectively doing was never a topic of conversation.

Still, there was that one time you told him you had never been with anyone like this. “All my life… I’ve seen it as a transaction.”

Your voice was quiet as you rested on his chest, still hot and sweaty from the long hours you’d been together. He was smoking a cigarette from the pack you had in your room just for him, and you were in a contemplative mood.

“Intimacy was about power, worth, and gain, and I thought that was all there was to it, but… I don’t… feel that way with you.”

You said it quietly, almost shyly, nuzzling his chest, and he put his cigarette down on a tray by your bedside table, holding you closely while making sure you faced him.

“It doesn’t have to be like that. I don’t want that,” he rasped, brushing your cheek in a caress. He wasn’t even nervous, despite this moment being one of the most vulnerable you two had ever shared. Still, because you were giving him something from deep within, he thought he should do the same. “I never thought I’d be intimate with someone like this. Not after my ex,” he said dryly, and seeing the glint in your eyes, he added, “Not until I met you.” His finger brushed a few strands of hair out of your eyes looking up at him, “I thought I didn’t want it. Our marriage was a disaster, and it was true I didn’t get it up. I just… didn’t want to.” He heaved a sigh, “She couldn’t understand what I do, or what I worry about. The way the work consumes our lives.”

You hummed, “Or maybe she wasn’t dangerous enough.”

He chuckled, “Maybe. Maybe I got myself the perfect storm now: dangerous, beautiful, smart, and knowledgeable about what matters to me. About what I need.”

Your eyes stayed big and glistening on his, and he didn’t push for an answer. He kissed your nose and forehead and leaned back down, wondering quietly if you had understood what he was trying to say.

He thought you might have because things were different at his place the next night. You never let him forget he worked for the right side of the law, constantly teasing him about his handcuffs. He had let you use them on him before, so that night when you asked for the same, it wasn’t out of the ordinary.

But the way you asked him more questions as you had him cuffed to his bed was different, “Aren’t you scared of what I might do? I could do anything to you. Things you don’t like, ruin your life, fuck— take it, I could kill you.”

He nodded, “I trust you.”

Your eyes were glistening differently, but you started kissing him and didn’t stop until you were both exhausted, winded, and spent over his sheets. You released him and slept next to him, hiding in his embrace while he smoked, and wondered if there was more he could do to make you feel safe.

He didn’t expect to wake up the next morning to you asking him to put the handcuffs on you.

You looked scared, with wide eyes and trembling fingers, and he shook his head, “You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

“But I want to,” you insisted, grabbing his hands despite your nervousness. “Because I trust you too. I want to know what it feels like.”

He was hesitant, but at the same time felt responsible. He didn’t trust anyone else to be with you and respect and care for you like he did, so he agreed.

He asked questions, explained how you would do it safely, and tried to tell you his plan, but you stopped him, “I don’t want to know. I trust you to do this.”

Despite your watery eyes, your smile moved the foundations of his heart in unspeakable ways. You presented your wrists so that he’d cuff them, and he did. Then, he took you in his arms and kissed you with all the passion lodged inside his heart.

He, too, could do anything to you, but there was only the desire to do good. To treat you with tenderness and show you how deeply he felt for you.

The possibility of it being a mistake never crossed his mind. He couldn’t stop kissing you, adoring you with every touch, immediately immersed in his need to show you something he couldn’t normally do. Something he couldn’t explain in words or ask you about. He could show you, though. Show you what happened when someone’s heart was in it like his was.

He laid you down, glued to every inch of you, between your legs, then slipped your cuffed hands over his head to rest on his neck so you’d have support. Then, he entered you and, staying close like that the whole time, made love to you while you breathed in each other’s grunts and moans.

“I’m here,” he rasped, so close to your skin, it was muffled. He couldn’t stop showing you his heart, whether with his hips or words, “You have me. You’re mine.”

He could see in the way you were keening, face scrunched with everything happening, that you were as deep in it as he was. You kissed him back, moved with him, sighed with every reassurance, gripped his hair, and came with him so intensely that he thought you would pass out. But then you kissed him deeply, and his heart settled right there with you.

You two never spoke about it, but you didn’t need to. As long as everything stayed perfect like that, Yoongi would never be the one to push you. Just like it had happened so far, you’d come to him when you were ready.

He had completely forgotten about the case he was building on you until you said something that reminded him.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

You were having snacks on his bed since you were feeling particularly hungry tonight, while he sat on an armchair just resting after a hard day.

He nodded, “I do, but I bet you don’t.”

You grinned, “Wasn’t it when your boss was trying to get a warrant to search the Aether? Only to come in person to tell me my name had been forged into some incriminating documents, so he apologized for chasing me?”

He blinked, “I’m surprised you remember me. I was just an officer then.”

You nodded and hummed with sour candy stuffing your mouth. “You were quiet but had this look. Like you could see right through me.” 

You mused, reminiscing, and he kept observing you. He was young and naive, but there was something about you that put everything into perspective. Beautiful women really could be dangerous. 

“And then you went on to build a case on me of your own,” you laughed unabashedly. “I’m flattered.”

His stomach fell at that moment, barely hearing you when you went on to say you were happy he didn’t pursue you too hard. It allowed you to grow this big, and you much preferred him now, a seasoned chief.

“It’s just funny to think our paths intertwined so long ago… I never thought we’d end up here.”

Your tone had a hint of tension, but he was inside his head, so he just nodded. This wasn’t right. He had long since come to terms with who you were and what you did. What he had on you… he had to get rid of it before someone got wind of it.

Suddenly, you scrunched your nose and got up, “I need to use the bathroom.”

He nodded again absentmindedly but didn’t waste any time. He went straight to his office and searched all the drawers and files until he found the one with your name. Then, he emptied a metal trash can on the floor and set your file on fire with a lighter, dropping it in to be safe.

The door creaked, and his eyes snapped up. You looked a bit pale but otherwise carefree with a long white shirt of his covering your naked body. You did it frequently when you wanted to be comfy, even if sex wasn’t involved.

“What is it?”

You neared him, eying the fire curiously, and he wrapped an arm around you, “Nothing, just getting rid of something.”

He pressed his lips to your head while you both watched it burn quietly, and you held onto him. It was better this way.

“Want something to drink?” You smiled, knowing your way around his cabinet like it was yours.

He nodded, then noticed you only poured one glass, “And you?”

You grimaced a little before passing him the drink, “My stomach is a bit upset.” He took the drink with a hum, and you sat down on his chair. “The commissioner general is retiring.”

Yoongi nodded, then leaned on the desk behind him. The faint burning scent matched the whiskey he was drinking. “Yeah, people are moving. I think I’ll stay in the same position.”

You nodded, “And the new commissioner?”

“Nothing official yet.”

You pursed your lips, annoyed that he wasn’t taking the bait to talk about it, but his mind was elsewhere, figuring if there was a digital trail he needed to get rid of quickly to keep you safe.

He visited you the next day and went straight to your office, as told by your butler, only to find documents on your desk about Jimin.

He was instantly reeling, puzzling it all together and getting infuriated as a result. You must have been the one to frame him; the dates on the files were from back at the start. Why else would you have a file on him? What the hell were you planning? He could forgive many selfish things you had done, but if you touched any of his officers, that would be too far.

You showed up at your door wiping your mouth with a faint smile, “Sorry, I had to rush—”

“What is this?” 

He didn’t let you finish and pointed at your desk, and your features tensed. He couldn’t even notice you were the color of your white shirt; he was getting rattled by the silence.

“It’s a file.”

“On Officer Jimin,” he pointed out.

“On many different people.”

“Why would you have this?”

“Because he’s a part of it.”

“Yeah, we both know what he was a part of!” He almost stepped toward you but refrained, closing his fists. “Did you do it?”

You frowned, “Do what?”

“Frame him? Was it you all along?”

“No,” your features were neutral as you stepped closer to him to reach the files.

But he grabbed your wrist, “Tell me the truth.”

“I am,” you faced him, emotionless, while he attempted not to erupt like a volcano. “He was a byproduct of something bigger. He’s a small file amongst everything else.”

You spread the files on your desk to prove your point, and he let go of your wrist. There were codes and names, but a few photos stood out: Jimin, Junghee, and someone he never thought would be mixed up in there.

He pulled that photo out, “What the hell?”

You grinned bitterly, “Jae Seong Seok.” Your voice had no amusement, “Our up-and-coming commissioner.”

Yoongi gritted his teeth, quickly backtracking. He couldn’t confirm because he had burned his file on you the day before, but he remembered that one name from your log.

“What the hell is going on?”

Your expression retained a sourness, “He’s a tricky client, so I keep a record of everything he does. He wasn’t happy when he found out I had a hand in exonerating Officer Park, and now that he’s becoming the new commissioner, I kind of need to cover my ass.”

You sat on your chair with an unfriendly expression, massaging your stomach while he connected the dots. “Why do you need to? If he’s your client, you have things on him too. And what the hell did he do that involved Jimin? And Junghee?”

He was confused and you sighed, “People like him can get to anyone, even me. Even if he had to resign due to a scandal, he wouldn’t spend his life in jail, trust me. Between the national embarrassment of him going to jail or just me taking the brunt of it, trust me, your beloved system would bend backward to keep him clean.”

His heart was thrumming in his chest as he eyed your hardened features. You were right about that much at least, but he needed to understand. “Just tell me what this has to do with Jimin and Junghee.”

You heaved a deep breath and hesitated to tell him. There was a reason you never did, it would only complicate things. But you could see in his face that he was suspecting you instead, and it pissed you off.

“There’s a reason I didn’t tell you, and it’s not because I’m the one who did it.” 

Your gaze was ice-cold from the need to protect yourself from the impending hurt while your stomach was twisting inside you, leaving you exhausted. You’d been sick for a while, and now was the worst time to do this. 

“So just tell me now,” he asked, and you noticed at least his fists were gone.

You took a deep breath, “Officer Junghee was a dirty cop. Not by working with people like me, mind you, but with Jae Seong Seok. Whatever he needed to be done, Junghee would make it happen, as far as I understood.”

“That’s a lie.”

Yoongi’s instinct to protect his officers didn’t surprise you, “Funny how after almost two decades of service, he never moved up the ranks? Even funnier how he bought an apartment in Yeouido. Did you know? Left his widow and children very well set for a lowly cop with a shitty wage.”

Yoongi frowned, “He must have… You don’t know what other ways he—”

“Ah, that’s the thing about my line of work,” you interrupted blatantly, leaning in to speak almost venomously. “It’s my fucking job to know.” The bitterness of your stomach reached your mouth, but you continued, “The fucker went on expensive vacations yearly, you’d think he’d at least not parade his wealth, but that’s the thing about people that gain wealth and don’t know how to handle it — they get used to a certain lifestyle that’s hard to accommodate.”

This time, he stayed quiet. He could remember Junghee going on vacations, smiling at how his kids were entering good universities. Heck, the whole department celebrated when he bought a house, though he never said it was in Yeouido.

“Enter our beloved Jae Seong Seok, who wanted to get rid of him. My guess is that Junghee was demanding payment to keep his mouth shut, and that won’t do. Upcoming election and all.”

Your tone was so cynical, he could taste your bitterness in his mouth.

“I heard about the word to eliminate Office Junghee. Jimin was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Yoongi swallowed, then gripped his hair for a moment before facing you again, “They were chasing a car. That night, the two of them. One of your cars.”

You rolled your eyes, “My cars aren’t always mine. Did I know Ray? Sure, the fucker is a weasel. But he wasn’t working for me when he did that.”

“Ray? You knew who did this?!”

He raised his voice again, and you sighed, “What does it matter? Your boy was exonerated.”

“But the real culprit is on the loose! I don’t care if Junghee was dirty, his killer can’t be allowed to roam free!”

You leaned forward to pull a file from the messy pile to the top, “Read it.”

He leaned in and skimmed over the content, noticing quickly he was deceased, dating not long after Junghee died. The cause of death was drowning, but there was no more information than that. It was likely you knew by word of mouth otherwise there would be more. The photo matched the figure seen in the video that helped Jimin, so he didn’t have questions.

He heaved a deep breath, “Okay, but how can you be sure of the connection between Junghee and Jae Seong Seok?”

You dragged your chair forward, typed a password, and then an encrypted code on your search bar. It opened footage of a parking lot surveillance camera, and Yoongi almost choked. Junghee was in uniform escorting Jae Seong Seok to his car. The two spoke closely before an envelope passed hands. Yoongi kept his eyes on the screen until the Chief Superintendent General got inside the car and left, and Junghee counted the money in plain sight before leaving as well.

Then Yoongi groaned and rubbed his eyes, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Again, your Officer was just collateral damage. Jae Seong Seok would have let him rot in jail as long as no more questions were raised, but you and I didn’t let that happen. The case is still open since Ray's body was never found, though we know it’s over. To Jae Seong Seok, you and I are the only loose ends. But we're a necessary evil. For now.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me about this?”

You huffed and looked away, “I knew you’d react this way. You think everyone is bad except your precious officers, but everyone can be corrupted. No one’s hands are clean. Heck, not even yours.” 

You glanced at his hands, then raked your hair back. It was true, but maybe you shouldn’t have said it like that.

He kneeled in front of you so you’d be forced to meet his eyes, “That’s not what I mean. If you and I are at risk, I should know about it.”

You looked away, but he grabbed your hands to keep you with him. You shrugged, “I have it under control.”

He observed you for a moment, but there was nothing in his expression telling you he didn’t believe you. At least he wasn’t angry anymore. It brought tears to your eyes that you disgruntledly wiped away.

“This is the price for helping me… Why did you?”

Your lips trembled, and you pressed them before admitting, “You moved me… You knew it wasn’t true, and you were willing to go to hell to prove it. Even if you didn’t actually know,” you scoffed, then smiled, observing his dark glistening eyes. “I… also couldn’t resist seeing how far you’d go. With the chance to get inside your pants, landing on my lap like that? I can’t be blamed for succumbing to your charms.”

He scoffed, and his lips curved, “What charms?”

You smirked and shook your head, “You’re right. Best if you keep ignoring them. That way, I’m the only one who has the pleasure of—”

His lips were on yours before he could stop himself, gently kissing you while his fingers brushed and held your cheeks. He wasn’t one for confrontations but was happy he had asked immediately and clarified everything. He’d do some internal investigation for himself, but he believed you. If your safety was in jeopardy, he had to set up a safety net for you both.

He liked your soft expression when he pulled away, enjoying his thumbs brushing your cheeks. You felt hot to the touch and looked tired, with dark circles under your eyes. Yet before he addressed that, he said, “You can tell me things like this. You know that.”

You sighed and tried to look away, “Maybe.”

He pressed his lips but didn’t insist. He wished there were no secrets between you, but he’d wait for you to make that decision. Giving you the time and space to come to him was still the best he could do.

“Do you want to drink something?” He asked, letting go of you gently. “Maybe a gin and tonic will put color back in your cheeks.”

You looked down and shook your head, “I don’t feel like it.”

He thought everything was well after that, but one week later, he knew it wasn’t. Something had changed, and it was like being forced to watch a chain-reaction car accident happen — there was nothing he could do to stop it, and the damage just kept piling up.

He had noticed you weren’t drinking for a few weeks, but it was starting to irk him now. Sometimes, you were nauseated, and at other times, you were starving. Sometimes, you just wanted to cuddle and sleep, but at other times, you wanted him to stay away because it was too hot and overwhelming if he touched you. You always had a strong personality, which he loved, but now you were unrestrained. Irritable didn’t begin to cover it; something was always wrong. You had fought every day for the past week and always over trivial things that he never even thought of before. 

Since when did you care that he still used the same shampoo his ex-wife used to buy? It was out of habit, absolutely meaningless, but you had taken it so personally that you had squeezed all bottles empty and thrown them at him when he tried to stop you. You never cared that he smoked; on the contrary, you had his favorites at your place just for him. Now? You had almost gagged from him smoking after you two were together, even though he did it for months without an issue. And intimately? He didn’t know what was happening, but you were acting differently. You wouldn’t let him see you fully naked, and the few times you let him touch you, you almost started crying.

He must have been doing something very wrong, but mentioning it only resulted in you fighting or running away. Your routine was kept the next day, but every time, it chipped away at his patience, and surely, it tired you, too.

He blamed his ill temper for the way he ended up snapping at you.

“I don’t feel like it,” you voiced after he offered you a drink. “Maybe I should keep this one short. I need to go back to the Aether.”

He put down the glass inside his office liquor cabinet, not bothering to fill it, and huffed the growing annoyance. You had smiled and kissed him when you arrived, kindling his hope, only to snuff it so easily.

“Then why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

He turned to you, “Why are you here if you’re just going to leave?”

You scoffed, “You mean I shouldn’t have come?”

You looked instantly bitter, and he shook his head, “You should have, and you should stay. Have a drink with me, rest, and fucking talk to me.”

You laughed humorlessly, “You have to be kidding. Again with the drink bullshit?”

“It’s not bullshit.”

“It’s just a drink,” you underlined dryly.

“It’s what it means!”

You rolled your eyes, “And what does it mean?”

“That something changed!”

He slammed the liquor cabinet door closed, and you crossed your arms over your chest, “Just because I don’t want your stupid whiskey?”

The way you withdrew from him made him feel like a pet about to be abandoned. He shook his head, pale, “It’s not the whiskey. You don’t want anything! You’re always annoyed, irritated, and in a rush to leave. You don’t let me touch you or—”

“Stop, just—” You were blushing furiously, with closed fists now trembling at your sides. “You’re being ridiculous!”

“I’m calling it as I see it!”

He regretted raising his voice at you, especially when he noticed the way you were trembling. He wasn’t shouting, but still, it only made things worse. He could see it in your glistening eyes, though your whole body posture told him he fucked up.

But he didn’t understand what he did that led to this, and he wouldn’t just watch it fall apart. He did with his ex-wife. He couldn’t bring himself to care enough to do something about it. But fuck— with you, he cared. He cared more than he had ever been able to tell you or show you, and he couldn’t just watch it happen without doing something.

“I’m leaving.”

You reached to grab your purse over the couch, and it all happened so fast. His heart convulsed, his eyes watered, but most of all, his desperation pushed him to grab your arm to stop you.

You spun around, and your instinct was to pull your trusty knife on him. You were angry, hurt, and shaking, but saw the tears reflecting in his eyes. Your blade was poking his stomach, but you didn’t want to hurt him. You just couldn’t think clearly; you needed to get away.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fucking stab me if you want,” his voice wavered as his hold tightened but your eyes hardened.

“I don’t need to.”

You pulled your arm loose, and he let you go. How could he not? Even though he wanted to beg you to stay and was desperate to fix things and get everything back to what it was. But he couldn’t go against your will. This was what he had always feared finally coming to fruition, and it hurt.

He stood still while he heard you tapping your heels away, praying you would turn around and give him a chance. But then the front door slammed, and he roared and saw red. He kicked and punched everything in the vicinity, ignoring the glass shards and the wood splinters flying around. 

Not much survived in his office by the time he was done, and not even the pain in his knuckles and arms phased him. He fell to his knees with a plea masked as a grunt, but even then it didn’t hurt. Only his heart, beating in agony, did.

All he wanted was you, and he lost you.

On a side note, yesterday I finished my trick or treat fic...

As much as I'm obsessed about it and sad that it ended, the natural solution is to work on the next project —Far Cry

Yes, I'm late, but now I have two weeks to get on it... I have to read it again to get in the mood 😋😎😉💜

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 4

“Justice just never sleeps.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

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

WORD COUNT: 6.8k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which one?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you hurt?”

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

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

“I’m fine!”

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

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

“Sit down.”

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

“How are you here?”

“Are you hurt?”

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

But he was impassive, “Are you hurt?”

“Answer the question!”

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

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

“I know, so calm down.”

His monotone voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

“I’m fucking calm! I need—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to get you checked.”

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

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

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

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

“Alright.”

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

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

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

“About what?”

“About their plan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, it fucking hurts!”

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

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

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

“Was this personal?”

You smirked bitterly, “Had to be.”

“What were the goods?”

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

“How did they find out?”

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

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

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

“No, they don’t.”

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

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

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

“Where would it hurt them?”

“Their warehouse downtown.”

“Their boss?”

“Prokhor Evgeni.”

“Where is he?”

“The Evgeni Sports Center in Heungin-dong.”

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

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

“You’ll see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your— Your knees—”

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

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

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

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

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

HE IS JOKING

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 3

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

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

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

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His shoulders softened, “I need your help.”

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

“Because there must be something you want.”

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

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

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

“I'm not in the drug market.”

“But you want to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What can you do?”

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

“We have a deal.”

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

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

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

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

“Was there anything else?”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then ask.”

“There's no need.”

“And if I want you to?”

“Why would you want that?”

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

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

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

“You’re already going to pay me for—”

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

Your eyes widened, “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it the humiliation, Chief?”

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

“No,” he murmured back, voice taken. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit down.”

He almost jolted, confused. He was already kneeling—

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

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

“Pull your dick out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boss! You need to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 2

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

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

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

WORD COUNT: 7.3k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I have a choice.

Then choose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just a bit further,” you voiced.

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

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

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

“My, following a lady into the bathroom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, so what is it that you want?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not going to do that.”

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

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

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

“All?”

“All,” you repeated with a smirk.

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

“Are you getting sentimental, Chief?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is the alternative?”

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

“I asked you a question.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hypothetically.

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

Was that what it was?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squirmed, “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned, “Am I—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck it. 

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 1

“What is worth an innocent’s life? You decide.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi has been in the police force for long enough to know that the system isn’t perfect, so when an injustice is about to put his protégé in jail, he has no other choice but to go to you. You’re the devil, but you’re hard to resist, and he needs to decide between falling into temptation or showing you that two can play the game.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: corruption, power dynamics, blackmail, threats w/ a knife, slight degradation, sexual favors, oral (f rec)

A.N. I'm soooo excited, this fic is 🔥 Infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for working through my crazy and being incredible! Enjoy 🔥🔥

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | Next Chapter >

Yoongi huffed and threw his eyeglasses onto the keyboard, rubbing his eyes so roughly he saw lights. It was no use; no matter how much he went over the evidence, again and again, he couldn’t change it.

“Hyung.”

He uncovered his eyes, only to be met with Taehyung’s sadness. His shoulders sagged from the sleepless nights ever since Jimin had gotten arrested, with dark circles bringing even more desolation to his otherwise heavenly features. He knew it wasn’t Taehyung’s intention, but the sight only unnerved Yoongi even more.

“Go home, get some sleep.”

Taehyung flinched, “But—”

“That’s an order, Officer.”

Taehyung stiffened and instantly bowed and showed his respects to his Superintendent before turning and leaving. Only then did Yoongi heave a deep breath and observe around him. It was weird seeing his department at the police station empty, without the officers at their desks taking calls or doing paperwork while on one of their 24-hour shifts. But they had all been shaken up, and so he had sent them home.

He was proud of his Division, and as their Chief, he couldn’t be more certain of everyone’s conduct and character. This included Jimin’s, and it was the reason why he was losing his mind over this case.

No matter how much he reviewed the footage and evidence, there was no mistake — Officer Jimin had seemingly shot his partner dead during an arrest gone wrong. This was a natural conclusion, judging by the body camera of the now deceased cop, Officer Junghee, that had captured Jimin nearing him with a fuming pistol in his hand. One that matched the ballistics report on Yoongi’s desk.

This was why the prosecution wanted to charge him with manslaughter at the very least, but Yoongi could not be convinced. The body camera also captured the panic in Officer Jimin’s voice and expression as he tried to save his downed partner. Yoongi didn’t care if that was Jimin’s gun or if it was fuming in his hand — he didn’t believe it.

“It wasn’t me!” The words Jimin shouted as he was arrested conveyed an absolute world of hurt and combined with the shock in Jimin’s eyes was seared into Yoongi’s retinas, causing him to dig the heel of his hands into his eyes again. But no matter how much he attempted to change the image, it wouldn’t. Jimin, his protégé, was still being handcuffed and taken away while begging, “I didn’t, you have to believe me! He put it in my hands! Hyung!”

Yoongi nudged his eyeglasses off the keyboard, locked his computer, and grabbed his coat. On long nights like these, he didn’t bother staying in uniform, only wearing black pants with a white shirt and his badge and holster belt. He made his way outside and got into his car, acknowledging whoever he met along the way. Temperatures were freezing, and his car didn’t start immediately. He reached for his nicotine gum while he waited for the car to warm up. When it finally started, so did the 3 AM news on the radio right as he left the parking lot.

“In a shocking revelation, an officer from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency shot his partner dead after pulling up to a suspicious vehicle in Dongjak District. The mounting evidence is undeniable, and the prosecution is discussing the potential penalty in such a case, with the spokesperson revealing in a press conference that while mistakes happen, justice needs to be served.”

Yoongi kept chewing and driving as the prosecutor’s voice echoed through the speakers. On the outside, Yoongi was the picture of calm, cool, and collected, but inside, he was fuming. He had spoken with the prosecutor many times, who preferred a clean-cut arrest to build his case to run for whatever political role he was after rather than fight for justice, as he claimed. Yoongi had always known that multiple interests abound in the justice system, but now he was starting to get pissed.

When he parked the car, he looked outside through the windshield, observing quietly as the people moved in and out of the Aether. The bouncers kept drunks at bay, and despite the booming music and the flashy lights, everything looked normal for a nightclub.

He removed his belt and badge, shoving them in the glove compartment so hard that something fell out. He reached to grab it from the floor, his frown instantly turning into a scowl. It was a photo of him hugging a woman, laughing, taken many years ago when they were still happy. When they were not even married yet, let alone divorced.

He got out of the car and ripped the photo into as many tiny pieces as possible, dropping the scraps in a trashcan along with his gum. Then he stopped in front of the bouncers with his hands in his pockets, saying six little special words.

“I want to see the boss.”

The first bouncer just scoffed a laugh and shook his head, but the second one eyed him from head to toe, “If you’re here to inspect, then you have to identify yourself first.”

“Not an inspection,” Yoongi said nonchalantly, glancing around. “It’s not an official visit.”

The smirking bouncer kept the flow of the people going in and out while the serious one, resembling the first almost to a T, pressed his earpiece further into his ear, waiting for orders. Yoongi had noticed the cameras already while he was walking up, and he wondered how long it would take for them to know exactly who he was and why he was there.

The serious bouncer moved closer to him, “Are you armed?”

“No.”

“I have to make sure.”

Yoongi glanced at him, then nodded, raising his hands as he let the man make sure he was unarmed. When the tall man rose from his knees after checking Yoongi’s ankles, he lowered his arms and waited for the goon to catch his breath.

“Alright, you can go in.”

He moved past the bouncers and into the entryway, but he hadn’t even made it to the coat check when someone approached him. Just by the light clothing, styled hair, and badge hanging on his belt, Yoongi could immediately tell that the man worked there.

“Follow me.”

Yoongi wasn’t there to sightsee, but he could appreciate the columns and marble structures and statues. Along with the paintings, velvet curtains, and carpets, it made the Aether look like a temple or divine abode of the Gods. The aesthetic intensified as they went up the stairs, but he didn’t have time to register much. In a second, he was walking into what appeared like an ordinary office — a pleasant space with a large desk at the center in front of huge dark windows that showed the lights flashing from the dance floor. He ignored the liquor table, the cabinets with files, and the black velvet sofas to the side. What his eyes were immediately drawn to was you — you who had pushed the large computer screen to the side so you could watch him come in. Your chin rested graciously on your intertwined fingers, with your elbows on the desk, eyes flickering with amusement, watching him through dark curled lashes. He hadn’t even noticed he had walked to your desk or that the door had closed behind him, but then you stood up, letting your delicate arms fall alongside your tight black dress. Your black, straight hair slid over your shoulders, framing the plunging cleavage of your dress, and when you smiled, he felt hot—molten hot.

“Welcome, Superintendent,” you smiled with a glint of amusement, your perfect teeth shining in the overhead light, and he clenched his fists behind his back. “Or should I say Yoongi? I was told you weren’t here in an official capacity, but…” You eyed him from head to toe, and he did his best to stay poised and calm. “You don’t look like you’re here to club.”

Yoongi was already sweating, not out of nervousness but because of you. Because you always eyed him like you owned him, always had a hint of mischief to every smile, and were always as elusive as a ghost. One he couldn’t catch and had grown tired of running after.

Still, hearing his name in your mouth for the first time… made him pull on the collar of his shirt, “Not here to party; I’m here on business.”

Your eyebrow twitched, and he looked at you seriously; you were a cunning fox of the worst kind. Worse than a weed, than a pest, than the bloody smoke still hanging in the air and making his fingers twitch. He had a simple goal, and he had to stay focused.

“Not an official visit, but you’re here on business…” you mused out loud then shrugged. “Soon, it will be four in the morning,” you revealed with a hint of disdain as you neared the table that held liquor in crystal decanters. “Surely, if you wanted to do something official, you’d wait at least three more hours?” You chuckled as you poured a finger of whiskey into a glass. “Want some?” He shook his head, and you shrugged again. You made your way back to your desk, but instead of going around it, you perched on the side of it, close enough for him to see your dress parting, giving hints of your upper thighs, “What can I do for you, Chief?”

Yoongi had nerves of steel; he ignored the lush skin of your thighs, the cleavage, the numbing sound reverberating through the walls, the dimmed lights, and the way your eyes seemed to challenge him with every blink.

He focused, “I want your help.”

Your eyes widened comically, the image of innocence and confusion, “Mine? What could such a powerful person need from me?”

Thankfully, your coy attitude irritated him and helped him concentrate. “I know the suspicious car they were chasing was one of yours.”

Your eyes widened even more, but this time, you brought your glass to your lips to hide a smile, “My, my, Officer. I know I have many cars, but to say I was a fugitive—”

“You know what I mean,” his jaw clenched, and you licked your lips.

“I don’t,” you could only smile, and he clenched his fists again. There it was. It pissed the fuck out of him. “Are you going to arrest me, Chief? Make good use of those deduction skills of yours and put pretty handcuffs around my wrists?”

He hated that his heart jumped in his chest as you whispered salaciously and leaned into him, shortening the distance between you. He hated how tempting you looked, and he hated the way your eyes fixed on his, as if you were ready to follow suit with your provocation. You were probably a tease like that with everyone all the time. It pissed him off even more.

He only blinked, ever the master of showing a relaxed demeanor, “I have no evidence to arrest you, nor am I here in that capacity.” 

It instantly hit him, as you straightened your back and finished the drink in your hand, that he was going to have to ask for your help. Not outsmart you, not convince you, not squabble with half facts and hunches — he needed your help and that meant he had to come down off his pedestal.

“My— An officer from my team will be sentenced for something he didn’t do. I’m out of options; I’ve hit a dead-end.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you put down the empty glass, “Don’t tell me — the system he holds and protects with his life won’t even try to prove his innocence.”

His jaw clenched; he hated that you weren’t completely wrong. “I’m trying to prove his innocence.”

The corners of your mouth twitched in a smile. “What makes you think I can help?”

He kept his mouth closed for a thoughtful moment. There was no use in accusing you again. Your smile wasn’t sly, so he decided to go for it. “You’re one of the biggest players.”

“Me?” You acted surprised, “I just own a few businesses here and there…”

“They say you’re the one to contact for information.” You tilted your head, and he insisted, “Even if that wasn’t your car, you’d know about it because it was on your turf. You’re you. I just know you know something that can help us solve this.”

That answer seemed to satisfy you because your lips and eyes revealed a small yet genuine smile that caught his breath. It made him realize he was leaning towards you now, exposing himself like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. Not when you looked at him like that, feeding into his hope.

“Say I do,” you started, eyes fixed on his. “Say I have evidence that could exonerate Officer Park.” He snapped straight; he had never told you the name of the Officer, and the media didn’t know it either. Yet what got him were your words, “Why would I help you?”

He clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth clicked. He just about growled with the way irritation mixed with his desperation, making him reel.

“Come on, Chief. Talk to me,” you pressed, wanting him to push through both the shock and the stick up his ass. “You must be desperate enough if you’re asking for my help, and I’m not denying it. I’m saying I might have what you need. What would you do to save an innocent from prison for life or worse?”

He didn’t think, “You have it? Something that could undeniably prove his innocence?”

He knew before he was done asking that it was impossible and that he was acting crazy. Yet, you leaned into him, meeting him halfway, your breath hitting his chin, “In those exact words? I do.” You sat back and let your words sink in, not knowing they gave him a full-body shudder. He always knew you were powerful and had your ways, but holy shit— “What do you have that I want?”

He opened his mouth but instantly closed it. Objectively, he had nothing. But maybe there was something he could do. First, though, he needed to know it was real. “What evidence do you have? Show it to me—”

“Hmmm, no,” you pressed your lips and twisted your nose, displeased. “That’s not how this works. This is based on trust. Besides, you don’t seem to have anything to offer.”

For a split second, he wondered if you were bullshitting him, but he honestly didn’t care. He had to do something. “You want something concrete for a maybe?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” your tone hardened as your expression lost humor.

“Alright, name it. Tell me what is worth your help.”

His tone was soft, and it worked to soothe you. His dark eyes helped; there was so much willingness in them, and you liked that. The man there asking for your help to correct an injustice was the kind of man you were looking for.

“Since you asked,” you cheekily started, pulling your hair behind your shoulders. “I want three things.” He didn’t even blink, so you continued, “The first is a favor. Of my choice and at my discretion whenever I shall need it. The second is for you to get on your knees. And the third is for you to eat.”

He blinked, “What?” He looked down to follow your hands over your thighs, and you spread your legs for him, though the black dress covered between them. He shook his head in bewilderment, “You’re crazy!”

“Crazy?” You chuckled, “I think I’m being quite reasonable.”

“You— Do you hear what you’re asking?”

He sounded breathless and could feel the heat on his cheeks, which was not ideal. He almost managed to step back, but a quirk of your eyebrow kept him still — he needed that evidence.

“Oh my, Chief Min. Are you getting heated at the thought of a couple of favors?” He scoffed, and you continued your tease, “Or is it the knees? Too proud to beg?”

“No, not too proud,” he mumbled between teeth. He was ready to kneel on the floor and beg, and the heat rising in his neck told him the rest wasn’t a problem either. And that was the problem. “The favor—” He cleared his throat, scratching it, “What is the favor?”

“I don’t know yet,” you shrugged, and it seemed to him like it didn’t matter. He knew that couldn’t be true, that had to be what you were really after — something specific from the Superintendent of the Seoul Metropolitan Police. And yet your eyes were shining in such a way that he almost forgot who you were. Almost.

“Something illegal, no doubt.”

You sighed and he took the moment to let the anger cool him — you were a criminal about to use his good intentions to surely accomplish something even worse. Instead of cooling him, irritation made him snap his knuckles and shift on his feet.

“I don’t know what it is, but it shouldn’t matter,” you said more coldly, squinting your eyes. “What is worth an innocent’s life? You decide.”

There was a hint of impatience in your tone that only riled him up more. He turned to you, “What’s stopping me from just—”

“You’re not that stupid,” you interrupted, raising your chin. His eyes noticed the surveillance cameras and you smirked, “They’re not who you should be concerned about.”

Your smile was predatory but he scoffed. You didn’t need to threaten him, and he didn’t like the coercion. He refused to look at you for a moment, giving you the impression that he was weighing his options. In reality, he was figuring out what angered him more — the fact that he was about to make a deal with a devil like you, or that he was that turned on from it.

You huffed and got off the desk, your heels clicking on the floor like a timer had just gone off. “Never mind—”

He grabbed your arm to keep you from walking away, and in a second, something sharp was poking his lower stomach. You both froze in place, your gaze angry and fixed on his, while his heart raced inside his chest. He didn’t let go of your arm, and you didn’t lower your knife.

“I never heard a yes from those pretty lips, so…” you spoke quietly, then pressed the blade harder. “Hands off.”

He knew you could put your money where your mouth was, and that if you wanted to kill him and get rid of him, you would. Yet, his grip didn’t lessen as he observed you. He was still trying to figure things out — not what to do, but you. He hated you objectively; you represented everything wrong with the world. Jimin was innocent; you shouldn’t be bargaining for his life, you should do the right thing. But you weren’t, you wanted to play with fire. Maybe even to get burned.

“What is it…” he started quietly, still eying your angry eyes. “Is it the risk? The humiliation? The footage for blackmailing me later? The power over a figure of authority?”

You scoffed, leaning in to answer just as quietly, “No risk, Chief. The footage might be insurance, but you’re a man of your word. No power over you because you’ll be doing it willingly. And no humiliation,” you chuckled. “It’s a privilege to eat at this table. Although…” You looked down, then smirked. “I can play if that’s what you like.”

He looked away from your eyes for the first time and almost flinched; his pants had a tent. He couldn’t even think; why was his body betraying him like this? He tried pulling away and letting you go, but you pressed the tip of your knife harder.

“Nuh-uh,” you whispered, taking a deep breath a little closer to his neck. “I heard the missus left cause you couldn’t get it up, but won’t you look at that—” Your tone was sly, and he gripped your arm harder in retaliation. You laughed, “I guess she just didn’t know how to play. Or maybe you like this,” your voice lowered wantonly, and a shiver ran up his spine as though he was starting to attune to it. “Like not having a choice, to be in danger, to be forced to do something reprehensible.”

He had to lick his lips because for a second he thought he was drooling, “I have a choice.”

You smiled and his cock twitched, “Then choose.”

He eyed your smile and leaned into you, but you chuckled and playfully pressed the tip of the knife to impose distance, ignoring the red droplets tainting the fabric.

“On your knees, Chief.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and he pulled you by the arm, disregarding the blade, so you’d walk back until the back of your thighs hit the desk. Then, he gripped your hips and helped you on the desk, fisting your dress in the same movement to get it out of the way as he kneeled between your legs. Your knife had slipped from your hand as you rested them on the desk for support, and you didn’t think to pick it back up. You wanted him to eat you and mean it, but he was going above and beyond — nuzzling your thighs and inhaling your scent, frantically fighting with your dress, and trying to pry your legs further apart so he could have access.

When his nose poked your clit, you jumped in place, and his fingers dug into your hips, even through the fabric of the dress. Just looking at the way he was fighting to get his mouth on you was positively melting you, but you wanted it to actually happen.

“Slide them down,” you breathed after he nuzzled and licked your core through your panties enough times to cover you with goosebumps.

He immediately obliged, and you shimmied to help him get rid of them. He threw them on the floor, then gripped your legs apart before giving you a look that seared you in place. You didn’t know what it was, but you were living for it, and the excitement burned your gut. The Superintendent looked like a piece of forbidden heaven between your thighs; who knew he’d have you melting like this just at the hint of doing what you asked?

A smirk spread on your lips as he kept struggling with your dress, until suddenly — rip. He bunched the fabric and pulled it, causing the slit that revealed your thigh to rip, and you chuckled. You liked that energy, that hunger; the way he was willing to destroy to have his way. Instantly, he had free leeway to uncover your core and press his mouth, rolling his tongue all over your slick folds.

You jolted with a sigh, gripping his hair at the back of his head. The more he laved his tongue over your slit to taste you, the more you had the urge to move, but you stayed still. With your eyes closed, you enjoyed every second of his discovery, from his licks to his tasting and humming. You heaved the breath you were holding when he nibbled your heat right before finding your clit to suckle, and your voice finally came out. You could almost laugh at how easily he had found his way, but your mind wasn’t there. While he found his rhythm, you guided him with expressive sighs, grazing your acrylic nails over his scalp without ever forcing him. You wouldn’t; his hunger was part of the power trip. Chief Min would eat you, give you what you wanted, and service you because you had that much power. You could bring someone like him to his knees. He liked it.

You suddenly pulled on his hair so he’d look up at you, and he did, not even bothering with a quizzical look. You bit your lip to stop a smile and relented your grip, and he looked down for a second. It was all it took for him to get back to it, and you let your head fall back with a sigh — case in point.

“The things you do for duty, Chief…”

His tongue kept laving over you as if you were desert, focused, regardless of your taunt. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten where he was or why because his hands started gently exploring your spread thighs. His fingers pressed to your curves and didn’t stop even when he felt the garter that held the knife you had used on him. Instead, he pulled on it, making it snap against your thigh, ripping a stronger moan from you. 

It was then he realized you needed something stronger, so he pressed his face harder against your cunt, latched onto your clit, and started rutting into you. You were surprised but instantly melted, and your fingers curved around his hair. The grind of his lips pressing into you while his mouth held the suction was already maddening, but the thrumming of his tongue on your clit was the cherry on top. You didn’t have time to make it a challenge, or maybe you didn’t want to; his rhythm was perfect against your heat, and you moaned when it intensified. The strumming was precise and maddening, each tap firm and steady, giving you enough time to despair for the next one and moan when it came, leaving you to anticipate what would come next. 

Your hips started moving on their own, and that was when you knew you had let go. There was no point in pretending he wasn’t doing it just like you wanted, or that you weren’t rolling into his face to feel him harder, forcing him to dig his long fingers into the flesh of your hips as he drank the slick melting out of you. The very sounds of his humming and licking drove the blood to your cheeks and emboldened your hips, messily humping against his mouth. You could feel the edge right before you, and every time you ground on his mouth, you thought that would be it.

“Fuck,” you groaned between teeth, looking down to find burning brown eyes drinking you more greedily than his hot mouth. He wasn’t stopping you or holding you back, he was letting you fuck his mouth however you wanted, and it popped you. 

You let your head fall back and pressed his face to your cunt, your moans pitching higher when he sucked harder, as if to pull all the pleasure out of you like it was venom. He rode your climax with you, gripping your trembling legs around him as though he wished you’d smother him, and finally, you looked down. Your walls were still throbbing in the aftershocks when he dragged his tongue across you slowly, and you groaned through a smirk, then pulled him away by the hair.

“Easy there,” you smiled and let your legs down.

You quickly pulled your dress down to cover you again while your other hand raked through your long hair, putting it in place. He rose slowly to his feet with his eyes on you, and you didn’t even try hiding your heaving chest; he could see it well with such an observant gaze. His eyes were so intense that you shuddered and bit your lip, but avoiding them only landed your own on his evident arousal, and you smirked.

Looking up, for a moment, your taunt got caught in your throat. Min Yoongi looked the absolute best covered in your cum from nose to chin — deliciously ravenous.

You licked your lips, raising your hand to his face but stopping before you touched him. He mimicked you, his pink tongue collecting your slick over his lips while he focused on yours. Still, when your hand moved down, so did his eyes. You smirked, dodging his erection at the last second to hide your hand under your dress.

You hummed, closing your eyes as your fingers collected your wetness mixed with his saliva, and then brought them straight to your mouth. You licked them first, tasting what he did before putting them in your mouth and sucking. 

You clenched, knitting your eyebrows as you realized how turned on you were. You were throbbing and craving something to push into you and fuck you senseless, and opening your eyes, you saw the same urge staring right back at you.

Your fingers left your mouth with a pop, and then you smiled, shaking your head, “Should have asked for a good fuck too.”

His dark eyes stayed on yours for a moment, and even when he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, they remained on yours. It was almost a taunt, and you grinned; you loved a good challenge, and even more the kind of fucking that lustful gaze promised. But you knew the worth of asking, and you were not going to come out losing.

“Maybe next time.”

stunning

i love nerds cr. namuspromised

@yoonia just got this on my dash! Coincidence?

I got prideful, inexhaustible, and devious 😏

y’all i got obsessive, ingenious, familiar lmao

(158/∞) the perfect nose for butterflies to land on it ♡

taehyung + esquire magazine

To the anon who asked: yes, I'll write an epilogue of Stellar Behavior! But I'm not sure when because I'm struggling with deadlines right now 🙈😭💜

🌖🌘🌑🌒🌔

{ays cr. ouranxingg}

Stellar Behavior | MYG | Masterpost

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi has been in the police force for long enough to know that the system isn’t perfect, so when an injustice is about to put his protégé in jail, he has no other choice but to go to you. You’re the devil, but you’re hard to resist, and he needs to decide between falling into temptation or showing you that two can play the game.

WORD COUNT: 43.5k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: where do I begin... Corruption, power dynamics, blackmail, sexual favors, mentions of crimes, guns, knifes, explosions, fire, blood, concussions, arguing, Yoongi is a badass and a sweetheart 👀, handcuffs, death, violence, invasion of privacy, kidnapping, fingering, oral (f & m rec), handjob, masturbation (both), caught having sex, unprotected sex, switching, (f)brat, hate sex, semi public sex.

A.N. I'm so happy with this fic, I can't even tell you 😁I didn't think I had it in me, but here we are with a gangster/mafia AU! Infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for working through my crazy and being incredible! This is my entry in the upcoming @bangtanwritershq 3rd Quarter Writing Event: Got A Secret, Can You Keep It? I chose the AU Type: Savage Love - Enemies to Lovers, and took it very literally 🥰 I'll be uploading daily, so buckle up! 😁

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

He blinked, “What?” He looked down to follow your hands over your thighs, and you spread your legs for him, though the black dress covered between them. He shook his head in bewilderment, “You’re crazy!”

“Crazy?” You chuckled, “I think I’m being quite reasonable.”

Part 1 | WC: 4.8k - [here]

“What is worth an innocent’s life? You decide.”

[Snippet]

Part 2 | WC: 7.3k - [here]

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

[Snippet]

Part 3 | WC: 5.9k - [here]

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

[Snippet]

Part 4 | WC: 6.8k - [here]

“Justice just never sleeps.”

[Snippet]

Part 5 | WC: 9.6k - [here]

“Intimacy was about power, worth, and gain, and I thought that was all there was to it, but… I don’t… feel that way with you.”

[Snippet]

Part 6 | WC: 4.3k - [here]

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

[Snippet]

Part 7 | WC: 4.5k - [here]

“I said I like it fucking quiet.”

[Snippet]

“The thing about idols is that we don’t have to commit a crime or do something that’s controversial for people to blow little things out of proportion and judge us. I could never understand the mentality of those people.”

BANGTANWRITERSHQ PRESENTS: “Got A Secret, Can You Keep It?” MASTERLIST

Got a secret. Can you keep it? Swear this one you'll save. Better lock it in your pocket. Taking this one to the grave. “Shhh… You can’t tell a soul.” You look around to make sure everyone else is focused on their own tasks before you lean closer, hand curling around your mouth to funnel the secret as it leaves your lips directly into the ears of your friend. Their eyes light up, growing wide as they take in the truth of why you’ve been acting so weird lately. You can see all of the questions rolling around in their head: how long has this been going on? Does you-know-who know about this? If this secret gets out, what will the consequences be? All you can do is shake your head subtly—now is not the time for questions. You barely know how you ended up in this situation in the first place. All you know for sure is that one decision led to another decision, whether poorly timed or rash or not thought out at all, you can’t take it back: this is one secret you can’t risk getting out. Unbeknownst to you, it’s already too late. That’s the thing about secrets—the truth is bound to reveal itself. Whether it’s a secret between lovers, a secret past, a secret child, or a secret not made to last this quarter, we wanted to collect all of our character's dirty little secrets. For our Third Quarter 2024, we asked our members to find all the skeletons hidden in their characters’ closets.

KEY:

🔞 - nsfw (mature themes) ✅ - sfw (no warnings) 💖 - smut ⚠️ - other warnings

SET UP - emojis: Title (if link is to another platform) | Author [parts] pairings, genre/aus, rating, word count

🔞💖⚠️ Paramour | @lo1k-diamonds [1/1] Pairing: Taehyung x (f) reader AU/Genre: Workplace Relationship, Idol & Normee/Taboo Romance Rating: MA WC: 6,200

🔞💖⚠️ Blooming Wallflowers | @yoonia [1/1] Pairing: Firefighter!Namjoon x SingleMother!f.Reader AU/Genre: Firefighter, Single Parent Rating: MA WC: 20,813

🔞💖⚠️ Risqué Business | @yoonia [1/1] Pairing: Taehyung x Reader AU/Genre: Boss/Employee, Situationship Rating: MA WC: 7,940

🔞💖⚠️ Stellar Behavior | @lo1k-diamonds [7/7] Pairing: Yoongi x Reader AU/Genre: Criminal/Law AU Rating: MA WC: 43,529

🔞💖⚠️ Beware The Thorns | @colormepurplex2 [2/2] Pairing: Yoongi x Jimin x Jungkook x f.Reader AU/Genre: Reverse Harem/Step-Sibling, Mafia/Crime Rating: MA WC: 17,491

All stories copywritten of the specified author. The authors provided consent for their stories to the network to be shared by submitting their stories. Stories posted in the order of submission to the event.

FL❀WER BOY

cr. namuspromised, 0613data, jung-koook

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 7 (end)

"I said I like it fucking quiet.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi thought it would be bliss from now on, but not yet. Not until you both own the city.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, plotting, kidnapping, blood, violence, knifes, guns, physical violence, death. (Am I forgetting something?)

A.N. Ahh, no way I could just let them be happy, okay? Not without suffering first, it's my style 🤣 Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Check out their fics too! Now get ready 😎

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

Yoongi didn't know life could be like this. Once, he had been sold on that dream; it was the reason why he got married, bought a house, and started on the force. He wanted a loving home and family, and everyone told him to follow those steps to get there.

You were everything he had ever dreamed, immersing him in a bliss he never thought possible. That day, at the charity event, you took charge of things. You left with him, took him home, and spent the next twenty-four hours making up for the lost time. Your sheets didn't witness just your bodies reattuning to each other, but also the other moments when your hearts did. When you told him so much more about what you did, what you had in motion, what you proposed to secure both his and your positions, and how you planned on providing the best for your unborn child.

“Ours,” he corrected gently, kissing the back of your fingers.

You looked up with your head on his chest, and a moment later, you just nodded, “Ours.”

At that moment, he was willing to compromise for you — whatever you needed. He just didn't think it would come in the form of you not letting him leave.

He all but moved in with you soon after, and at 34 weeks, he believed he'd never leave. You adored snuggling up to him at all times of day, especially because he massaged you all over while you talked. Someone almost busted a plan of yours? You could vent while he thumbed the ball of your foot. A politician was acting ridiculous? Your hands and arms needed to let go of the stress you accumulated during the day. You had stood for hours at a charity event? Those idiots should be sued for having you standing like that; your legs needed the soothing of his fingers. You were still on your computer when he arrived home from work? Your shoulders needed to be relieved of the tension.

He still had to work and there was no way you'd pause your work, not when you had a grand plan to own the city, just like he suggested. You had decided you didn’t need to excel in every business you had to control the city, especially because the top was naturally the first to be challenged. You were too branched out, and it wouldn’t pay off — if you tried to dominate everyone, you were inviting multiple enemies to ally themselves to throw you down. Not even Yoongi would be able to help you, despite him assuring you he would. 

“I’m not interested in destroying what makes you our good half,” you had chuckled when he brought it up again. You looked beautiful under the dim lights of your bedroom, naked with your baby bump up, half lying on him in bed. This was something he couldn’t do without anymore. “We’re stronger if they don’t suspect you have hidden interests. If they think I’m a woman alone, I seem fragile. A kid will help. It’s all about finding the right balance, because if I’m too weak, they’ll destroy me. You can be our secret weapon.”

Your teasing grin as your tongue peeked between your teeth made him laugh. Ultimately, you knew your way around that world far better than he did. He’d always trust you with it.

Your strategy was to have insurance. If you had dirt on everyone and monopolized at least that market, you would be as safe as possible. Your downfall would just be too risky all around, and it would be less likely that your enemies would become friends trying to overthrow you. You wouldn’t be a significant enough threat to alarm other organizations, but you’d easily manipulate things in the shadows — everyone won.

You had started with medium management, as you liked to call it, and worked your way up. You already had a pretty big web of people working for you on the inside in various industries — other mob families, prisons, the police, the military, the entertainment and media conglomerates, even hospitals and pharmaceutical companies, without mentioning politics. Your tycoon status allowed you to keep an eye on the echelon, which meant you had everything covered. A politician wanted to do something you didn’t like? You knew of their kids’ DUIs, and the scandal was just too easy. Someone didn’t want to fundraise for the Mayor you had chosen? You had reports of companies faking quality control reports for products or negligence in the hospitals; you would leverage the media to destroy their business overnight. The media heads themselves didn’t want to cooperate? Too easy to leak footage of them in brothels or orgies that could ruin their entire reputation. And all mob families had their weaknesses; having people in the prisons and low-level thugs meant you’d know what you needed to keep them at bay. In essence, a network that gave you just enough to have leverage but not enough to be a direct threat to anyone.

He admired you for handling everything with such zeal and trusted you absolutely to take care of things. On his side, he was more worried about assuring the one thing you were most likely to overlook: your safety. First, he became intimately involved with your security details. All of your staff answered to him, which he liked. On top of that, he had his officers keeping an eye on you as well. Some probably suspected this wasn't about a case, but Yoongi didn't care as long as you were safe.

You had worked hard all over those months to carry out your master plan. It was ambitious, and if the pieces fell into place, not even Jae Seong Seok could touch you. The frustration was in getting the last piece of information — if you could find out who he was working with now, you'd be able to use your network and have him in your hand. But whoever he was working with, he was keeping it under wraps.

“It's ridiculous!” You whined, despite Yoongi massaging your shoulders. “It's a better kept secret than who the President's mistress is! Fuck!”

You jumped up from your office chair in a burst of anger, only to groan and take support on the desk. Yoongi was instantly behind you as you rubbed your swollen tummy; he didn't even flinch when you gave him a look between petulance and tiredness.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking does,” you insisted, falling back into him when he hugged you from behind. “Without knowing who is doing the Commissioner's bidding, we’re blind to his plans. It means we have a blind spot and—”

You held your breath, scrunching your nose with instant relief. He had just taken the weight out of your strained back by raising your belly, and you could breathe freely for a moment.

“Is that okay?” 

His voice was a whisper to your ear that had you sighing praises. He kissed your neck the whole time until he had to let go slowly, gently, distracting you with his lips on your skin before you’d get grumpy again.

“Didn’t you have someone on his team?”

“I lost them a couple of weeks after I told you that. He took exile in Heuksando last I heard.”

Your head fell back into his shoulder and he hummed, “I’m sure we’ll know something soon. Between your people and mine, we’re bound to hear or notice something. It’s a matter of time.” You pursed your lips, rubbing your belly again; time was a luxury you did not have. “Besides,” he spun you so you’d face him. “He’s not stupid. He wouldn’t just attempt to get rid of you; he probably knows we’re together.”

Your expression didn’t smooth, “For as long as he does bullshit without us knowing, we won't own the city.”

He nuzzled you, “He’s just one man. One tiny, meaningless man. Don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t seem fully convinced but you definitely relaxed in his arms that night, and the few nights after. Yoongi believed what he had told you: if the both of you were blinded to the Commissioner’s movements, then he was to yours too. You were stronger than him, you were together. You were bound to win.

But that night when he drove to the Aether at the maximum speed his car allowed, he wondered if he’d been too naive. If it was right to think that owning 98% of the city was enough to protect you and your child, only to learn the worst way possible that it could all fall through the cracks.

He arrived at the club, and from the outside it might have looked like the security were handling a typical problem, like a rowdy customer. When Thoma greeted him at the entrance, Yoongi followed him hurriedly, his blood freezing inside his veins. Your head of security didn’t just make that face for no reason.

Still, Yoongi couldn’t have believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. Before he got to your office, he passed your security and staff being checked by medics in the hallway, some even bleeding on the floor, almost passed out. Yet, when he entered your office, the situation dawned on him.

You had put up a fight. Your office was completely upside down, with your screen and papers on the floor, fallen chair, and broken glass everywhere. There was blood on the floor, which he kneeled to see. His fists closed instantly at the thought of you getting hurt, but maybe you had hurt them instead before they took you. You were good with your knife. He looked around; he couldn’t see it anywhere.

He got up, “Who the fuck?”

He asked simply, quietly, and Thoma answered, “Look at the back of the door.”

Yoongi turned, his dark eyes scanning the open door for traces of it being used or handled some way. His long, black raincoat billowed behind him as he moved and quickly used a glove to push the door closed.

I also prefer it quiet.

The scribbles or the paper glued to the door made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Does it mean anything to you?”

Yoongi’s eyes were the color of death, “Yes, and it does for you, too. You’re going to do exactly as I say.”

*****

Thoma disagreed with Yoongi’s instructions, but he’d carry them out anyway. Yoongi didn’t care about the man’s opinion; it wasn’t him who was about to lose his whole life to a bug he didn't squish properly.

When Yoongi had decided to help you back when it was a conscious decision. Not just to step into your life, but to stay in it. To make it better. To use what he had at his disposal to do so. He didn’t regret it for a second, not even now. Some would say he was reaping what he sowed, but that was a stupid understanding of the situation. A coward’s subservient view on what was happening — when they touched you, they knew there were only two possible outcomes. And for Yoongi, there was only one. 

Of course, Thoma didn’t like calling the police and reporting the assault or that you were kidnapped. But the police responded to Yoongi in that area, so that wasn’t the problem. He didn’t like that he was to play dumb and not tell them who had done it. Eventually, they would be shown footage that Officer Jung could recognize, all to buy Yoongi the right amount of time. 

Because to Yoongi there was only one outcome. As he stopped in a hidden alley without cameras, he opened the trunk of his car and pulled the bottom to reveal a secret compartment where he had an arsenal. He picked and loaded a pistol, screwed in the silencer, and hid it along with magazines under his long raincoat. Then, he made his way to the back of the Evgeni Sports Center.

Yoongi refused one of the possible outcomes as if it wasn’t possible. That was maybe why he entered the building casually and unnoticed amidst a football game, making the big crowd watching it on the flat screen completely wild. The beer was plentiful, as were the cheers, and he was able to swiftly enter the kitchen in the back, where the staff didn’t dare look at him. He was a man with a purpose and only one option.

When he reached the back door and went down the stairs, he grabbed his pistol and started his work. There was only one justice down there — the one he inflicted himself. Big or small, he didn’t care. People fell like flies before the commotion began and even then, to reach him was a nearly impossible task. He was an agent of death dealing it swiftly to everyone who had dared to condone this heinous crime. To touch you at any point would have been dangerous, but now? It was a death wish — the only possible outcome.

Blood tainted the walls at his passage while he shot, punched, and kicked whoever dared to stand in his way to find you. He noticed the heavy metal doors, knowing they hid bullshit that wasn’t meant to be found, but he continued. It would be a shit show, but he didn’t care. His officers would show and turn the place upside down. Weapons? Drugs? Torturing people? He huffed and wiped the blood off his knuckles; all fine and dandy, but not what he was looking for.

He didn’t mean to, but he ended up cleaning that floor like it was a military operation. No one but people being tortured were left alive in his wake; no witnesses, no surprises. All he wanted was you, he’d leave once he got what he came for.

He held his gun up and in position as he faced the last door at the end of the corridor. It took him one second to calculate the odds of finding you there. Then he risked it and opened it, only for a kick to hit his hands hard.

He grunted, and although he didn’t instantly loosen his grip on the weapon, a punch to his back made his form crumble.

A series of punches made him grunt and raise his arms to defend himself, and a careful dance ensued. Yoongi almost lost his patience as he handled that single amazing enemy, but then two things happened: his pistol fell to the floor, and he saw you.

You were sitting on a lonesome chair in the middle of that humid, dark storage room, tied and pale. He instantly saw your shining eyes and the hairs glued to your forehead with sweat, your chest heaving tensely over your swollen belly, and knew he hadn’t come fast enough. He needed to get to you.

Those fuckers just had to keep their strongest guy next to you. It pissed Yoongi off; he much rather shoot him too. But he was forced to fight and manage the situation, not letting him get near you or the gun.

After a succession of punches and counters, Yoongi landed a punch on the guy’s ear and made a judgment call that put everything in jeopardy — he ran to you. Your eyes widened, seeing the guy behind Yoongi rush for the gun on the floor. He was dizzy from the punch, and your brain struggled — even if you warned him, Yoongi would never make it back in time to grab it.

So you shook your leg frantically, “The knife!”

Yoongi rushed to kneel before you and grab the knife, thinking to use it to set you free, but you kicked him as hard as you could.

A gunshot echoed and Yoongi’s breath caught as he fell back to the floor. For a second, he thought his life was over — not because he had been shot, but because you had.

But a split second was enough to hear the bullet ricocheting off somewhere and hear the guy fall to the floor. Yoongi’s training kicked in and two seconds later, he was on top of the guy, trying to finish it. His enemy was brave, dizzy, and without balance, but he was still a tougher foe than most people Yoongi had encountered in his career or training. The pistol had fallen somewhere when the guy had lost his balance, so it was all about the knife. They started fighting for it and in a slip of his hand, the guy caught it, and slash.

Yoongi grunted and fell back, holding onto his face more with shock and instinct, than actual pain. He thought he was blind for a moment, feeling something thick on his fingers while his sight darkened, but he couldn’t stop. To stop was to endanger you, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He opened his good eye and, seeing the guy with his back turned advancing toward you, Yoongi rushed to kick him as hard as he could in the back of the knee.

The guy fell forward with a grunt, letting the knife fly away, and in your attempts to escape him, you leaned back on the chair. The push was enough to make you gasp and fall back with a bang that scared Yoongi shitless. His head was hurting, and along with the blood covering his eye, it put him off balance, to his frustration. He gritted his teeth, trying to get to the fallen guy by crawling; it wasn’t like it was his ears, so his balance was fine. It was just his damn eye!

But he didn’t move fast enough; suddenly, he heard steps rushing and tried to get back on track and jump on the guy, but he couldn’t see him. It was too late.

A gunshot echoed again, and this time a body hit the floor. Yoongi sat up and rubbed at his eyes roughly, widening his eyes to check on you , and there you were. In the same dress as this morning, though covered in sweat, dry blood, dust and now even chair bits from when it shattered with your fall, standing a few steps away from him, emotionlessly eying the guy you had shot in the head.

Then, you rushed to his side and kneeled. Yoongi wanted to grab you close, speechless, but you grabbed his head instead and brushed his longer dark hair aside.

You sighed in relief, “You’re okay, it’s just a scratch.”

He blinked at you, finally acknowledging the sting on his eyelid and cheek and that he could see fine, but instantly it didn’t matter. He widened his eyes at you, raising his arms around you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

You meant to get up, but you groaned. Something wasn’t right.

Yoongi called your name and you looked at him. It was as though you had gone deaf; his lips were moving but you could barely hear him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding,” he repeated, supporting you more steadily, trying to calm you, but you were confused.

“I’m not, I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.”

“No,” he brushed your cheeks gently, trying to make you focus. “You’re bleeding.”

It was like a CD entered the slot and it finally dawned reality on you. You looked down, holding onto his arms around you, and the pain hit you like a truck. You were bleeding down your legs, and suddenly you were dizzy. Your legs couldn’t hold you; you only wanted to curl around yourself and he let you down slowly.

“It hurts—”

“Breathe.”

Yoongi started the breathing exercises you both had learned but the way you glared at him was enough.

“I’ll carry you out. Ready?”

Your groan had a pitch of fear, but you bit your lip and screamed through the pain as he lifted you in his arms. Everything was a blur; hot and cold sweats going up and down your spine as you tried not to scream your pain out. It was visceral, terrifying, and rife with despair— something was wrong. You needed help. Now.

Once upstairs, people had scattered in a commotion, but fortunately, it seemed nobody quite knew what was going on. Some were running outside, others were filming, but the center's staff was surprisingly quiet. It was almost like suddenly, there was no one to take charge.

Fortunately, an ambulance had already been called to tend to the reported distress at the building. So when Yoongi stepped out with you in his arms, the paramedics quickly turned to the pregnant person with a bloody dress instead of a drunk making a scene.

In a matter of seconds, you were on a stretcher being carried inside the ambulance, and Yoongi wanted to go with you. 

But you held his hand, “No.”

He frowned, but you just looked behind him and then gave him a look, and he understood. He let go of your hand and instantly turned back as swiftly as possible. The crowd was in shock with the reported noise and the bloodied pregnant woman that just passed by them, and so, distracted.

Yoongi rushed downstairs, leaving the door closed behind him. He grabbed your blade and his pistol, then quickly looked around. It was a storage room with all sorts of boxes and containers, and he needed something that could destroy evidence fast, but not so fast that all the people tied up in other rooms, bleeding to death, couldn’t be rescued in time.

In the end, he found flammable paint and poured it on stacks of documents far back in the room before setting them on fire with a lighter. He hoped the humidity made the fire spread slowly enough, but even just the water from the sprinklers would help once they were triggered.

After dealing with that, he made his way completely upstairs through another set of stairs that weren’t accessible to the public. 

He had been there before, so he knew exactly where to go and that there were no cameras. He assumed he had killed most of the goons because only a handful tried to stop him. By then, he had reloaded, and nothing could stand in his way. Something was wrong; you weren’t supposed to be bleeding. It was too soon. It was all those fuckers fault!

He reached the office of Prokhor Evgeni and staggered for a second — Jae Seong Seok was sitting right there as though he had had an audience with the Russian. Both older men looked scared, which made the situation strange, almost comical. Only Yoongi wasn’t in a laughing mood; he raised his pistol and shot precisely twice.

Each man fell back onto their chair or on the floor while Yoongi pushed his hair back with annoyance, flaring, “I said I like it fucking quiet.”

Before his anger could go further, his phone started buzzing inside his pocket, and he sobered up. That meant Thoma had told Officer Jung what he needed to know; that signaled that the force was establishing a perimeter and a team to swarm the place.

He holstered his gun on his belt, then quickly put on gloves and searched for each man’s guns. Prokhor had one in his desk drawer, and Yoongi used it to shoot Jae Seong Seok a couple of times before shooting all around the room and throwing it on the floor. The Commissioner had a revolver with him, and it wasn’t hard to shoot in Prokhor’s direction and simulate a scene. Would it raise questions? Absolutely. But the more questions it raised, the harder it would be to get to the actual truth.

Yoongi went downstairs and blended in with the crowd still lingering about before reaching for the fire alarm to pull it. A loud siren went off, and the fire in the basement must have finally triggered the sprinklers because they went off, too. He made his way out amongst everybody else. Then, he faced the sky and started laughing.

He thought to just take out his raincoat so no one would know he was inside, but it was raining outside. So he stood there under the rain, smirking, letting it wash away the blood from his face, clothes, and any evidence that he had been inside.

He stood under the elements the whole time, the image of diligence coordinating the police and firemen who responded to the scene. It was a bloodbath and instantly the bodies became the reason for a national scandal. The media couldn’t get enough of it, especially the bit about the Commissioner and the Head of a Mafia family. The officers, though, were more inclined to believe the Commissioner had come to save you in person, and something had gone wrong. Maybe your child was even his. It would make sense, considering both your statuses. Maybe you were having an affair.

Yoongi focused on making sure that everything was accounted for, even the witnesses that said he was seen before the firemen and police arrived. He made sure their statement was taken too because they were contradictory with other witnesses. Some saw him carrying a pregnant lady, some only saw him when the alarm went off. The more information the police had, the better.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you. He understood why you asked him to stay, he needed to finish things and handle the outcome. After all, you both needed to own that city.

But he was dying to hear news from you. He had texted your people as soon as he had a second, so he knew they were with you, but still. Waiting just wasn’t possible, not tonight.

He was smoking and wrapping up the last details before the scene could be sealed when his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He picked it up this time, and the wails of a baby caught his breath.

“Is it done?”

“Yes,” he breathed, then he closed his eyes. “Our boy?”

“Eager to meet you.”

“You?”

“Come see for yourself.”

He didn’t need anything else to tell the last Officers on the scene he was leaving. He walked away to reach his car, then drove calmly to the hospital. He was drenched, so he left his raincoat inside the car and got on the elevator straight to the level you were in.

You were in a private, spacious room with everything you could need. It was just you, already wearing something of your own under the sheets, snoozing with a baby to your chest. Yoongi neared you and kissed your forehead, closing his eyes with the relief flooding him. You awoke with his touch and leaned in closer. He smelled of rain and new beginnings.

When he pulled away, you reached to touch the cut. Someone had cleaned it, leaving it red and furious across his eye, top to bottom. Looking into each other’s eyes, you knew the other was fine. Each with your own pain, but united in that moment, at last.

Finally, Yoongi took a look at his son. He was reddened too, with puffy cheeks and pouty lips, just like yours. He leaned in to kiss and nuzzle his son with a heart so full, he couldn’t speak. All he could do was sit on the bed, embracing you and him in his arms. 

You were looking at your baby before you noticed your position, englobing your son on two fronts, completely. Your lips curved, and you looked at Yoongi. You had finally won.

There we have it! I hope it was a nice, wild ride! 😁👋💜

This is nothing like I thought it would be, so I guess I'll start there. I read the entire first part with a frown, wondering what the heck fallen angel Taehyung was doing?

The way he goes through the OC's things and deciphers her easily, because although she is a mess, she has been reduced to a single plan of self-destruction, is baffling. He can sense and perceive, and the puzzle gets put together throughout slowly; the equivalent of making a slice of cake last. For the reader, at least.

I didn't expect the exact turn the story would take for her soul to be delivered, and the warnings caught me a bit by surprise. I feel like there's a story inside a story, and they happen to merge beautifully (much to Taehyung's delight). It's a fulfilling when the OC changes paths, even if it's gut-wrenching (fortunately, OC covers her eyes at about the same time I also wanted it to stop, so good thing), and the hope and freedom gained from it, both scary and liberating, come across so well.

As usual, the warning tags absolutely apply, and if I laughed in the beginning, by the end I found myself scared of what would happen when the shoe dropped - damnation, and all that.

Leave it to Leah to subvert even that 😁💜

Did It Hurt? | KTH

🤍FallenAngel!Taehyung x LostSoul!f.Reader 🤍Fallen Angel AU, Strangers to Lovers | angst, smut, fluff 🤍WC: 28,605 🤍Rating: MA 🤍Summary: Cast from the Heavens and forced onto the mortal plane for breaking his Oath of Holy Divinity, Taehyung only has one way to regain his wings after his exile is up or forever be cast into the 9th Circle—save a lost soul seeking absolution. As his one-hundredth year in exile approaches, his desire to return starts to wane, and the kiss of Hellfire grows nearer. ⚠️ Crass language, unwanted drunken advances, being drugged, blackmail, descriptions of past sexual acts, hidden desires, criminal activity, alluded to SA & potential human trafficking/disappearances, Tae has feelings he's trying to suppress, scars/vulnerability over past incidents, struggle with faith and beliefs, kissing, hesitant sexual exploration, guilt over sexual desires, v. sex, creampie, damnation Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Prologue: The Fall

Chapter 1. Flicker of Hope

Chapter 2. Sweet Kiss of Hellfire

Story is complete.

A/N: This story is part of the BTS Fests' Angels & Demons fest! A special thank you to @hisunshiine @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for being A+ betas!

A/N2: There are mild and loose references in here based on things found within the realm of certain religions, but they are in no way meant to be a direction reflection of any sole religion or belief.

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-01 ColorMePurplex2

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 7 (end)

"I said I like it fucking quiet.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi thought it would be bliss from now on, but not yet. Not until you both own the city.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, plotting, kidnapping, blood, violence, knifes, guns, physical violence, death. (Am I forgetting something?)

A.N. Ahh, no way I could just let them be happy, okay? Not without suffering first, it's my style 🤣 Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Check out their fics too! Now get ready 😎

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

Yoongi didn't know life could be like this. Once, he had been sold on that dream; it was the reason why he got married, bought a house, and started on the force. He wanted a loving home and family, and everyone told him to follow those steps to get there.

You were everything he had ever dreamed, immersing him in a bliss he never thought possible. That day, at the charity event, you took charge of things. You left with him, took him home, and spent the next twenty-four hours making up for the lost time. Your sheets didn't witness just your bodies reattuning to each other, but also the other moments when your hearts did. When you told him so much more about what you did, what you had in motion, what you proposed to secure both his and your positions, and how you planned on providing the best for your unborn child.

“Ours,” he corrected gently, kissing the back of your fingers.

You looked up with your head on his chest, and a moment later, you just nodded, “Ours.”

At that moment, he was willing to compromise for you — whatever you needed. He just didn't think it would come in the form of you not letting him leave.

He all but moved in with you soon after, and at 34 weeks, he believed he'd never leave. You adored snuggling up to him at all times of day, especially because he massaged you all over while you talked. Someone almost busted a plan of yours? You could vent while he thumbed the ball of your foot. A politician was acting ridiculous? Your hands and arms needed to let go of the stress you accumulated during the day. You had stood for hours at a charity event? Those idiots should be sued for having you standing like that; your legs needed the soothing of his fingers. You were still on your computer when he arrived home from work? Your shoulders needed to be relieved of the tension.

He still had to work and there was no way you'd pause your work, not when you had a grand plan to own the city, just like he suggested. You had decided you didn’t need to excel in every business you had to control the city, especially because the top was naturally the first to be challenged. You were too branched out, and it wouldn’t pay off — if you tried to dominate everyone, you were inviting multiple enemies to ally themselves to throw you down. Not even Yoongi would be able to help you, despite him assuring you he would. 

“I’m not interested in destroying what makes you our good half,” you had chuckled when he brought it up again. You looked beautiful under the dim lights of your bedroom, naked with your baby bump up, half lying on him in bed. This was something he couldn’t do without anymore. “We’re stronger if they don’t suspect you have hidden interests. If they think I’m a woman alone, I seem fragile. A kid will help. It’s all about finding the right balance, because if I’m too weak, they’ll destroy me. You can be our secret weapon.”

Your teasing grin as your tongue peeked between your teeth made him laugh. Ultimately, you knew your way around that world far better than he did. He’d always trust you with it.

Your strategy was to have insurance. If you had dirt on everyone and monopolized at least that market, you would be as safe as possible. Your downfall would just be too risky all around, and it would be less likely that your enemies would become friends trying to overthrow you. You wouldn’t be a significant enough threat to alarm other organizations, but you’d easily manipulate things in the shadows — everyone won.

You had started with medium management, as you liked to call it, and worked your way up. You already had a pretty big web of people working for you on the inside in various industries — other mob families, prisons, the police, the military, the entertainment and media conglomerates, even hospitals and pharmaceutical companies, without mentioning politics. Your tycoon status allowed you to keep an eye on the echelon, which meant you had everything covered. A politician wanted to do something you didn’t like? You knew of their kids’ DUIs, and the scandal was just too easy. Someone didn’t want to fundraise for the Mayor you had chosen? You had reports of companies faking quality control reports for products or negligence in the hospitals; you would leverage the media to destroy their business overnight. The media heads themselves didn’t want to cooperate? Too easy to leak footage of them in brothels or orgies that could ruin their entire reputation. And all mob families had their weaknesses; having people in the prisons and low-level thugs meant you’d know what you needed to keep them at bay. In essence, a network that gave you just enough to have leverage but not enough to be a direct threat to anyone.

He admired you for handling everything with such zeal and trusted you absolutely to take care of things. On his side, he was more worried about assuring the one thing you were most likely to overlook: your safety. First, he became intimately involved with your security details. All of your staff answered to him, which he liked. On top of that, he had his officers keeping an eye on you as well. Some probably suspected this wasn't about a case, but Yoongi didn't care as long as you were safe.

You had worked hard all over those months to carry out your master plan. It was ambitious, and if the pieces fell into place, not even Jae Seong Seok could touch you. The frustration was in getting the last piece of information — if you could find out who he was working with now, you'd be able to use your network and have him in your hand. But whoever he was working with, he was keeping it under wraps.

“It's ridiculous!” You whined, despite Yoongi massaging your shoulders. “It's a better kept secret than who the President's mistress is! Fuck!”

You jumped up from your office chair in a burst of anger, only to groan and take support on the desk. Yoongi was instantly behind you as you rubbed your swollen tummy; he didn't even flinch when you gave him a look between petulance and tiredness.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking does,” you insisted, falling back into him when he hugged you from behind. “Without knowing who is doing the Commissioner's bidding, we’re blind to his plans. It means we have a blind spot and—”

You held your breath, scrunching your nose with instant relief. He had just taken the weight out of your strained back by raising your belly, and you could breathe freely for a moment.

“Is that okay?” 

His voice was a whisper to your ear that had you sighing praises. He kissed your neck the whole time until he had to let go slowly, gently, distracting you with his lips on your skin before you’d get grumpy again.

“Didn’t you have someone on his team?”

“I lost them a couple of weeks after I told you that. He took exile in Heuksando last I heard.”

Your head fell back into his shoulder and he hummed, “I’m sure we’ll know something soon. Between your people and mine, we’re bound to hear or notice something. It’s a matter of time.” You pursed your lips, rubbing your belly again; time was a luxury you did not have. “Besides,” he spun you so you’d face him. “He’s not stupid. He wouldn’t just attempt to get rid of you; he probably knows we’re together.”

Your expression didn’t smooth, “For as long as he does bullshit without us knowing, we won't own the city.”

He nuzzled you, “He’s just one man. One tiny, meaningless man. Don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t seem fully convinced but you definitely relaxed in his arms that night, and the few nights after. Yoongi believed what he had told you: if the both of you were blinded to the Commissioner’s movements, then he was to yours too. You were stronger than him, you were together. You were bound to win.

But that night when he drove to the Aether at the maximum speed his car allowed, he wondered if he’d been too naive. If it was right to think that owning 98% of the city was enough to protect you and your child, only to learn the worst way possible that it could all fall through the cracks.

He arrived at the club, and from the outside it might have looked like the security were handling a typical problem, like a rowdy customer. When Thoma greeted him at the entrance, Yoongi followed him hurriedly, his blood freezing inside his veins. Your head of security didn’t just make that face for no reason.

Still, Yoongi couldn’t have believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. Before he got to your office, he passed your security and staff being checked by medics in the hallway, some even bleeding on the floor, almost passed out. Yet, when he entered your office, the situation dawned on him.

You had put up a fight. Your office was completely upside down, with your screen and papers on the floor, fallen chair, and broken glass everywhere. There was blood on the floor, which he kneeled to see. His fists closed instantly at the thought of you getting hurt, but maybe you had hurt them instead before they took you. You were good with your knife. He looked around; he couldn’t see it anywhere.

He got up, “Who the fuck?”

He asked simply, quietly, and Thoma answered, “Look at the back of the door.”

Yoongi turned, his dark eyes scanning the open door for traces of it being used or handled some way. His long, black raincoat billowed behind him as he moved and quickly used a glove to push the door closed.

I also prefer it quiet.

The scribbles or the paper glued to the door made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Does it mean anything to you?”

Yoongi’s eyes were the color of death, “Yes, and it does for you, too. You’re going to do exactly as I say.”

*****

Thoma disagreed with Yoongi’s instructions, but he’d carry them out anyway. Yoongi didn’t care about the man’s opinion; it wasn’t him who was about to lose his whole life to a bug he didn't squish properly.

When Yoongi had decided to help you back when it was a conscious decision. Not just to step into your life, but to stay in it. To make it better. To use what he had at his disposal to do so. He didn’t regret it for a second, not even now. Some would say he was reaping what he sowed, but that was a stupid understanding of the situation. A coward’s subservient view on what was happening — when they touched you, they knew there were only two possible outcomes. And for Yoongi, there was only one. 

Of course, Thoma didn’t like calling the police and reporting the assault or that you were kidnapped. But the police responded to Yoongi in that area, so that wasn’t the problem. He didn’t like that he was to play dumb and not tell them who had done it. Eventually, they would be shown footage that Officer Jung could recognize, all to buy Yoongi the right amount of time. 

Because to Yoongi there was only one outcome. As he stopped in a hidden alley without cameras, he opened the trunk of his car and pulled the bottom to reveal a secret compartment where he had an arsenal. He picked and loaded a pistol, screwed in the silencer, and hid it along with magazines under his long raincoat. Then, he made his way to the back of the Evgeni Sports Center.

Yoongi refused one of the possible outcomes as if it wasn’t possible. That was maybe why he entered the building casually and unnoticed amidst a football game, making the big crowd watching it on the flat screen completely wild. The beer was plentiful, as were the cheers, and he was able to swiftly enter the kitchen in the back, where the staff didn’t dare look at him. He was a man with a purpose and only one option.

When he reached the back door and went down the stairs, he grabbed his pistol and started his work. There was only one justice down there — the one he inflicted himself. Big or small, he didn’t care. People fell like flies before the commotion began and even then, to reach him was a nearly impossible task. He was an agent of death dealing it swiftly to everyone who had dared to condone this heinous crime. To touch you at any point would have been dangerous, but now? It was a death wish — the only possible outcome.

Blood tainted the walls at his passage while he shot, punched, and kicked whoever dared to stand in his way to find you. He noticed the heavy metal doors, knowing they hid bullshit that wasn’t meant to be found, but he continued. It would be a shit show, but he didn’t care. His officers would show and turn the place upside down. Weapons? Drugs? Torturing people? He huffed and wiped the blood off his knuckles; all fine and dandy, but not what he was looking for.

He didn’t mean to, but he ended up cleaning that floor like it was a military operation. No one but people being tortured were left alive in his wake; no witnesses, no surprises. All he wanted was you, he’d leave once he got what he came for.

He held his gun up and in position as he faced the last door at the end of the corridor. It took him one second to calculate the odds of finding you there. Then he risked it and opened it, only for a kick to hit his hands hard.

He grunted, and although he didn’t instantly loosen his grip on the weapon, a punch to his back made his form crumble.

A series of punches made him grunt and raise his arms to defend himself, and a careful dance ensued. Yoongi almost lost his patience as he handled that single amazing enemy, but then two things happened: his pistol fell to the floor, and he saw you.

You were sitting on a lonesome chair in the middle of that humid, dark storage room, tied and pale. He instantly saw your shining eyes and the hairs glued to your forehead with sweat, your chest heaving tensely over your swollen belly, and knew he hadn’t come fast enough. He needed to get to you.

Those fuckers just had to keep their strongest guy next to you. It pissed Yoongi off; he much rather shoot him too. But he was forced to fight and manage the situation, not letting him get near you or the gun.

After a succession of punches and counters, Yoongi landed a punch on the guy’s ear and made a judgment call that put everything in jeopardy — he ran to you. Your eyes widened, seeing the guy behind Yoongi rush for the gun on the floor. He was dizzy from the punch, and your brain struggled — even if you warned him, Yoongi would never make it back in time to grab it.

So you shook your leg frantically, “The knife!”

Yoongi rushed to kneel before you and grab the knife, thinking to use it to set you free, but you kicked him as hard as you could.

A gunshot echoed and Yoongi’s breath caught as he fell back to the floor. For a second, he thought his life was over — not because he had been shot, but because you had.

But a split second was enough to hear the bullet ricocheting off somewhere and hear the guy fall to the floor. Yoongi’s training kicked in and two seconds later, he was on top of the guy, trying to finish it. His enemy was brave, dizzy, and without balance, but he was still a tougher foe than most people Yoongi had encountered in his career or training. The pistol had fallen somewhere when the guy had lost his balance, so it was all about the knife. They started fighting for it and in a slip of his hand, the guy caught it, and slash.

Yoongi grunted and fell back, holding onto his face more with shock and instinct, than actual pain. He thought he was blind for a moment, feeling something thick on his fingers while his sight darkened, but he couldn’t stop. To stop was to endanger you, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He opened his good eye and, seeing the guy with his back turned advancing toward you, Yoongi rushed to kick him as hard as he could in the back of the knee.

The guy fell forward with a grunt, letting the knife fly away, and in your attempts to escape him, you leaned back on the chair. The push was enough to make you gasp and fall back with a bang that scared Yoongi shitless. His head was hurting, and along with the blood covering his eye, it put him off balance, to his frustration. He gritted his teeth, trying to get to the fallen guy by crawling; it wasn’t like it was his ears, so his balance was fine. It was just his damn eye!

But he didn’t move fast enough; suddenly, he heard steps rushing and tried to get back on track and jump on the guy, but he couldn’t see him. It was too late.

A gunshot echoed again, and this time a body hit the floor. Yoongi sat up and rubbed at his eyes roughly, widening his eyes to check on you , and there you were. In the same dress as this morning, though covered in sweat, dry blood, dust and now even chair bits from when it shattered with your fall, standing a few steps away from him, emotionlessly eying the guy you had shot in the head.

Then, you rushed to his side and kneeled. Yoongi wanted to grab you close, speechless, but you grabbed his head instead and brushed his longer dark hair aside.

You sighed in relief, “You’re okay, it’s just a scratch.”

He blinked at you, finally acknowledging the sting on his eyelid and cheek and that he could see fine, but instantly it didn’t matter. He widened his eyes at you, raising his arms around you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

You meant to get up, but you groaned. Something wasn’t right.

Yoongi called your name and you looked at him. It was as though you had gone deaf; his lips were moving but you could barely hear him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding,” he repeated, supporting you more steadily, trying to calm you, but you were confused.

“I’m not, I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.”

“No,” he brushed your cheeks gently, trying to make you focus. “You’re bleeding.”

It was like a CD entered the slot and it finally dawned reality on you. You looked down, holding onto his arms around you, and the pain hit you like a truck. You were bleeding down your legs, and suddenly you were dizzy. Your legs couldn’t hold you; you only wanted to curl around yourself and he let you down slowly.

“It hurts—”

“Breathe.”

Yoongi started the breathing exercises you both had learned but the way you glared at him was enough.

“I’ll carry you out. Ready?”

Your groan had a pitch of fear, but you bit your lip and screamed through the pain as he lifted you in his arms. Everything was a blur; hot and cold sweats going up and down your spine as you tried not to scream your pain out. It was visceral, terrifying, and rife with despair— something was wrong. You needed help. Now.

Once upstairs, people had scattered in a commotion, but fortunately, it seemed nobody quite knew what was going on. Some were running outside, others were filming, but the center's staff was surprisingly quiet. It was almost like suddenly, there was no one to take charge.

Fortunately, an ambulance had already been called to tend to the reported distress at the building. So when Yoongi stepped out with you in his arms, the paramedics quickly turned to the pregnant person with a bloody dress instead of a drunk making a scene.

In a matter of seconds, you were on a stretcher being carried inside the ambulance, and Yoongi wanted to go with you. 

But you held his hand, “No.”

He frowned, but you just looked behind him and then gave him a look, and he understood. He let go of your hand and instantly turned back as swiftly as possible. The crowd was in shock with the reported noise and the bloodied pregnant woman that just passed by them, and so, distracted.

Yoongi rushed downstairs, leaving the door closed behind him. He grabbed your blade and his pistol, then quickly looked around. It was a storage room with all sorts of boxes and containers, and he needed something that could destroy evidence fast, but not so fast that all the people tied up in other rooms, bleeding to death, couldn’t be rescued in time.

In the end, he found flammable paint and poured it on stacks of documents far back in the room before setting them on fire with a lighter. He hoped the humidity made the fire spread slowly enough, but even just the water from the sprinklers would help once they were triggered.

After dealing with that, he made his way completely upstairs through another set of stairs that weren’t accessible to the public. 

He had been there before, so he knew exactly where to go and that there were no cameras. He assumed he had killed most of the goons because only a handful tried to stop him. By then, he had reloaded, and nothing could stand in his way. Something was wrong; you weren’t supposed to be bleeding. It was too soon. It was all those fuckers fault!

He reached the office of Prokhor Evgeni and staggered for a second — Jae Seong Seok was sitting right there as though he had had an audience with the Russian. Both older men looked scared, which made the situation strange, almost comical. Only Yoongi wasn’t in a laughing mood; he raised his pistol and shot precisely twice.

Each man fell back onto their chair or on the floor while Yoongi pushed his hair back with annoyance, flaring, “I said I like it fucking quiet.”

Before his anger could go further, his phone started buzzing inside his pocket, and he sobered up. That meant Thoma had told Officer Jung what he needed to know; that signaled that the force was establishing a perimeter and a team to swarm the place.

He holstered his gun on his belt, then quickly put on gloves and searched for each man’s guns. Prokhor had one in his desk drawer, and Yoongi used it to shoot Jae Seong Seok a couple of times before shooting all around the room and throwing it on the floor. The Commissioner had a revolver with him, and it wasn’t hard to shoot in Prokhor’s direction and simulate a scene. Would it raise questions? Absolutely. But the more questions it raised, the harder it would be to get to the actual truth.

Yoongi went downstairs and blended in with the crowd still lingering about before reaching for the fire alarm to pull it. A loud siren went off, and the fire in the basement must have finally triggered the sprinklers because they went off, too. He made his way out amongst everybody else. Then, he faced the sky and started laughing.

He thought to just take out his raincoat so no one would know he was inside, but it was raining outside. So he stood there under the rain, smirking, letting it wash away the blood from his face, clothes, and any evidence that he had been inside.

He stood under the elements the whole time, the image of diligence coordinating the police and firemen who responded to the scene. It was a bloodbath and instantly the bodies became the reason for a national scandal. The media couldn’t get enough of it, especially the bit about the Commissioner and the Head of a Mafia family. The officers, though, were more inclined to believe the Commissioner had come to save you in person, and something had gone wrong. Maybe your child was even his. It would make sense, considering both your statuses. Maybe you were having an affair.

Yoongi focused on making sure that everything was accounted for, even the witnesses that said he was seen before the firemen and police arrived. He made sure their statement was taken too because they were contradictory with other witnesses. Some saw him carrying a pregnant lady, some only saw him when the alarm went off. The more information the police had, the better.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you. He understood why you asked him to stay, he needed to finish things and handle the outcome. After all, you both needed to own that city.

But he was dying to hear news from you. He had texted your people as soon as he had a second, so he knew they were with you, but still. Waiting just wasn’t possible, not tonight.

He was smoking and wrapping up the last details before the scene could be sealed when his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He picked it up this time, and the wails of a baby caught his breath.

“Is it done?”

“Yes,” he breathed, then he closed his eyes. “Our boy?”

“Eager to meet you.”

“You?”

“Come see for yourself.”

He didn’t need anything else to tell the last Officers on the scene he was leaving. He walked away to reach his car, then drove calmly to the hospital. He was drenched, so he left his raincoat inside the car and got on the elevator straight to the level you were in.

You were in a private, spacious room with everything you could need. It was just you, already wearing something of your own under the sheets, snoozing with a baby to your chest. Yoongi neared you and kissed your forehead, closing his eyes with the relief flooding him. You awoke with his touch and leaned in closer. He smelled of rain and new beginnings.

When he pulled away, you reached to touch the cut. Someone had cleaned it, leaving it red and furious across his eye, top to bottom. Looking into each other’s eyes, you knew the other was fine. Each with your own pain, but united in that moment, at last.

Finally, Yoongi took a look at his son. He was reddened too, with puffy cheeks and pouty lips, just like yours. He leaned in to kiss and nuzzle his son with a heart so full, he couldn’t speak. All he could do was sit on the bed, embracing you and him in his arms. 

You were looking at your baby before you noticed your position, englobing your son on two fronts, completely. Your lips curved, and you looked at Yoongi. You had finally won.

There we have it! I hope it was a nice, wild ride! 😁👋💜

💎Masterlist💎

All my writing can be found on ao3 and there’s no way I’m putting my gigantic stories here 🙈😅

That said, I’ll still put here the list with all my stories and links to find them!

[All my stories have angst - from just a misunderstanding to full-blown out-of-proportion fights 😋]

🔥 » SMUT | 📚 » multichapter | 🎀 » fluff [G- general/T- teen/M-mature/E-explicit]

Series

Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) >> [Masterpost] >> In this soulmate alternative universe, there are no marks, no strings, and no traces to guide them to their other half. But if they listen carefully, destiny is just around the corner patiently waiting to mix them in the soul palette and create universes - together.

SX Seoul >> [Masterpost] >> SX Seoul is a new club in Itaewon. Decorated with neon lights, its cozy and enveloping ambiance will have you living your wildest dreams. Each story is standalone - one per member!

RM 

Unique (E) 🔥📚 - OC x idol!NJ

Part 1: After overhearing something he shouldn’t have, Namjoon promises to make it up to the bride by keeping her maid of honor company during the rehearsal dinner party. What was supposed to be an unremarkable night became something so much more. [Tumblr]

Part 2: It’s a year later when Angie decides to visit Hyejin, both women looking to get away from their problems. But a certain group is just pausing their tour, and old feelings are rekindled when their paths cross.

Klartraum (E) 🔥📚 - OC x idol!NJ - AU » A story that follows Namjoon as he takes notes of his dreams of you in a dream journal.

Smoke Sprite (M) 🔥 - idol!Namjoon x So!YoON! - A short drabble about the song [Tumblr]

Closer (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » NJ x Reader » Namjoon and you were friends for years — he was your confidant, protector, and haven. You didn’t want to risk it, no matter what, but some things can’t be kept in the dark. [Tumblr]

Jin

Carnation (T)📚 - Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) (1st entry)» OC x idol!SJ » In early 2018, BTS were at a crossroads: after working so hard to set foot in the music industry of South Korea, their sudden jump into stardom became something they never anticipated. Jin believed in his dongsaengs but was just as lost as them when his soulmate entered the picture. [1st chapter - Tumblr]

Break-line (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » Jin x Reader » You’ve been chasing dreams and medals ever since you can remember, with your best friend Seokjin by your side. You thought you had everything you could possibly want — until you find out Jin is keeping a secret from you. [Tumblr]

Suga

Call you mine (E) 🔥📚 - Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) (3rd entry)» OC x idol!YG » A slowburn rejection soulmate story about falling in love with Min Yoongi. [1st chapter - Tumblr]

Sugar Rush Ride (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » YG x Reader » You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party. [Tumblr]

Too Sweet (E) 🔥📚 » You x Demon!YG » Coming from unabashed wealth has its perks — like never having to lift a finger in your life. When that suddenly changes, you end up at a crossroads: how far will you go to have everything you want? [Masterpost]

Stellar Behavior (E) 🔥📚 » Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader »  Yoongi has been in the police force for long enough to know that the system isn’t perfect, so when an injustice is about to put his protégé in jail, he has no other choice but to go to you. You’re the devil, but you’re hard to resist, and he needs to decide between falling into temptation or showing you that two can play the game.[Masterpost]

J-hope

Seeking the sunrise (E) 🔥📚 - Soul Palette (Soulmate AU) (2nd entry)» OC x idol!HS » No one needs a soulmate to have love, right? [1st Chapter - Tumblr]

Jimin

Dress (E) 🔥 - OC x idol!JM » After pining for years, she has reached her breaking point — and it started with a dress. [Reader version - Tumblr]

Like Crazy (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » JM x Reader » You let your desires run wild and things got too far while figuring out the choreography for Jimin’s next single. You thought it was best to pretend it never happened, but he decided to chase you, hoping to set things right. [Tumblr]

V

Love Crumbs (M) 📚 - OC x Office!Tae - Office AU » Quinn’s plans were simple: win that promotion and maybe have a little fun on the side. Taehyung was in love with someone else, but that wasn’t an issue. It’s a shame things are never really that simple.

A woman's best friend (E) 🔥 - Tae x (f) reader » When you met, you and Taehyung hit it off instantly, becoming the closest of friends. You thought he was off limits, meanwhile, he’s been begging for a chance to put an end to your friendship. [Tumblr]

Paramour (E) 🔥 - SX Seoul Series » Tae x (f) reader » You were born for the quick and glamorous life surrounding celebrities — they had their little dramas and breakdowns, and you were there to clean up the mess. But you have your own secret, and doing your job might get you in trouble with your paramour. [Tumblr]

Jungkook

Far Cry (E)🔥📚 - OC x idol!JK - Lost AU » After barely escaping captivity, Jungkook is lost in a jungle on an unknown island with an injured Namjoon and an amnesiac girl. {ongoing 💜} [1st Chapter - Tumblr] ➡ snippets

Standing Next to You (M) 🔥 - You x Demon!JK - MV based » JK is a lust demon — a powerful being that inflames desires at the simplest glance. That is his nature and all there is to his existence. Until there was you.

Bubbles (E) 🔥📚 - SX Seoul Series » JK x Reader » You’re back in town and your first stop in a night out with friends is a new club: SX Seoul. You had no plans, but when you see your ex, everything changes. - [Part 1] [Part 2]

How to Choose a Valentine (T) 🎀 - reader x idol!JK » Who knew the best company for Valentine’s Day would be a lovely Doberman? And who knew he’d get you a Valentine? Well, sort of. [Tumblr]

Hi! 🥺 I'm glad you gave it a chance, even if it's not what you generally fancy! Especially if the concept caught your eye 😁

Eheh, they're big baddies who develop feelings for once, it can only be intense like that 😁😇

I'm happy the handcuff scene came across like that because it's such a pivotal moment where everything can be read in between the lines. Except the fact that Yoongi takes it very seriously and handles it with utmost care; that's very obvious. Because that's how it should be

Ahh the last chapter is up, and I do love happy endings, even if shit has to go down first 💜

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, I appreciate it so much! 🥺🥰💜

Stellar Behavior | MYG | Masterpost

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi has been in the police force for long enough to know that the system isn’t perfect, so when an injustice is about to put his protégé in jail, he has no other choice but to go to you. You’re the devil, but you’re hard to resist, and he needs to decide between falling into temptation or showing you that two can play the game.

WORD COUNT: 43.5k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: where do I begin... Corruption, power dynamics, blackmail, sexual favors, mentions of crimes, guns, knifes, explosions, fire, blood, concussions, arguing, Yoongi is a badass and a sweetheart 👀, handcuffs, death, violence, invasion of privacy, kidnapping, fingering, oral (f & m rec), handjob, masturbation (both), caught having sex, unprotected sex, switching, (f)brat, hate sex, semi public sex.

A.N. I'm so happy with this fic, I can't even tell you 😁I didn't think I had it in me, but here we are with a gangster/mafia AU! Infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for working through my crazy and being incredible! This is my entry in the upcoming @bangtanwritershq 3rd Quarter Writing Event: Got A Secret, Can You Keep It? I chose the AU Type: Savage Love - Enemies to Lovers, and took it very literally 🥰 I'll be uploading daily, so buckle up! 😁

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

He blinked, “What?” He looked down to follow your hands over your thighs, and you spread your legs for him, though the black dress covered between them. He shook his head in bewilderment, “You’re crazy!”

“Crazy?” You chuckled, “I think I’m being quite reasonable.”

Part 1 | WC: 4.8k - [here]

“What is worth an innocent’s life? You decide.”

[Snippet]

Part 2 | WC: 7.3k - [here]

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

[Snippet]

Part 3 | WC: 5.9k - [here]

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

[Snippet]

Part 4 | WC: 6.8k - [here]

“Justice just never sleeps.”

[Snippet]

Part 5 | WC: 9.6k - [here]

“Intimacy was about power, worth, and gain, and I thought that was all there was to it, but… I don’t… feel that way with you.”

[Snippet]

Part 6 | WC: 4.3k - [here]

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

[Snippet]

Part 7 | WC: 4.5k

“I said I like it fucking quiet.”

[Snippet]

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 7 (end)

"I said I like it fucking quiet.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi thought it would be bliss from now on, but not yet. Not until you both own the city.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, plotting, kidnapping, blood, violence, knifes, guns, physical violence, death. (Am I forgetting something?)

A.N. Ahh, no way I could just let them be happy, okay? Not without suffering first, it's my style 🤣 Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Check out their fics too! Now get ready 😎

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

Yoongi didn't know life could be like this. Once, he had been sold on that dream; it was the reason why he got married, bought a house, and started on the force. He wanted a loving home and family, and everyone told him to follow those steps to get there.

You were everything he had ever dreamed, immersing him in a bliss he never thought possible. That day, at the charity event, you took charge of things. You left with him, took him home, and spent the next twenty-four hours making up for the lost time. Your sheets didn't witness just your bodies reattuning to each other, but also the other moments when your hearts did. When you told him so much more about what you did, what you had in motion, what you proposed to secure both his and your positions, and how you planned on providing the best for your unborn child.

“Ours,” he corrected gently, kissing the back of your fingers.

You looked up with your head on his chest, and a moment later, you just nodded, “Ours.”

At that moment, he was willing to compromise for you — whatever you needed. He just didn't think it would come in the form of you not letting him leave.

He all but moved in with you soon after, and at 34 weeks, he believed he'd never leave. You adored snuggling up to him at all times of day, especially because he massaged you all over while you talked. Someone almost busted a plan of yours? You could vent while he thumbed the ball of your foot. A politician was acting ridiculous? Your hands and arms needed to let go of the stress you accumulated during the day. You had stood for hours at a charity event? Those idiots should be sued for having you standing like that; your legs needed the soothing of his fingers. You were still on your computer when he arrived home from work? Your shoulders needed to be relieved of the tension.

He still had to work and there was no way you'd pause your work, not when you had a grand plan to own the city, just like he suggested. You had decided you didn’t need to excel in every business you had to control the city, especially because the top was naturally the first to be challenged. You were too branched out, and it wouldn’t pay off — if you tried to dominate everyone, you were inviting multiple enemies to ally themselves to throw you down. Not even Yoongi would be able to help you, despite him assuring you he would. 

“I’m not interested in destroying what makes you our good half,” you had chuckled when he brought it up again. You looked beautiful under the dim lights of your bedroom, naked with your baby bump up, half lying on him in bed. This was something he couldn’t do without anymore. “We’re stronger if they don’t suspect you have hidden interests. If they think I’m a woman alone, I seem fragile. A kid will help. It’s all about finding the right balance, because if I’m too weak, they’ll destroy me. You can be our secret weapon.”

Your teasing grin as your tongue peeked between your teeth made him laugh. Ultimately, you knew your way around that world far better than he did. He’d always trust you with it.

Your strategy was to have insurance. If you had dirt on everyone and monopolized at least that market, you would be as safe as possible. Your downfall would just be too risky all around, and it would be less likely that your enemies would become friends trying to overthrow you. You wouldn’t be a significant enough threat to alarm other organizations, but you’d easily manipulate things in the shadows — everyone won.

You had started with medium management, as you liked to call it, and worked your way up. You already had a pretty big web of people working for you on the inside in various industries — other mob families, prisons, the police, the military, the entertainment and media conglomerates, even hospitals and pharmaceutical companies, without mentioning politics. Your tycoon status allowed you to keep an eye on the echelon, which meant you had everything covered. A politician wanted to do something you didn’t like? You knew of their kids’ DUIs, and the scandal was just too easy. Someone didn’t want to fundraise for the Mayor you had chosen? You had reports of companies faking quality control reports for products or negligence in the hospitals; you would leverage the media to destroy their business overnight. The media heads themselves didn’t want to cooperate? Too easy to leak footage of them in brothels or orgies that could ruin their entire reputation. And all mob families had their weaknesses; having people in the prisons and low-level thugs meant you’d know what you needed to keep them at bay. In essence, a network that gave you just enough to have leverage but not enough to be a direct threat to anyone.

He admired you for handling everything with such zeal and trusted you absolutely to take care of things. On his side, he was more worried about assuring the one thing you were most likely to overlook: your safety. First, he became intimately involved with your security details. All of your staff answered to him, which he liked. On top of that, he had his officers keeping an eye on you as well. Some probably suspected this wasn't about a case, but Yoongi didn't care as long as you were safe.

You had worked hard all over those months to carry out your master plan. It was ambitious, and if the pieces fell into place, not even Jae Seong Seok could touch you. The frustration was in getting the last piece of information — if you could find out who he was working with now, you'd be able to use your network and have him in your hand. But whoever he was working with, he was keeping it under wraps.

“It's ridiculous!” You whined, despite Yoongi massaging your shoulders. “It's a better kept secret than who the President's mistress is! Fuck!”

You jumped up from your office chair in a burst of anger, only to groan and take support on the desk. Yoongi was instantly behind you as you rubbed your swollen tummy; he didn't even flinch when you gave him a look between petulance and tiredness.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking does,” you insisted, falling back into him when he hugged you from behind. “Without knowing who is doing the Commissioner's bidding, we’re blind to his plans. It means we have a blind spot and—”

You held your breath, scrunching your nose with instant relief. He had just taken the weight out of your strained back by raising your belly, and you could breathe freely for a moment.

“Is that okay?” 

His voice was a whisper to your ear that had you sighing praises. He kissed your neck the whole time until he had to let go slowly, gently, distracting you with his lips on your skin before you’d get grumpy again.

“Didn’t you have someone on his team?”

“I lost them a couple of weeks after I told you that. He took exile in Heuksando last I heard.”

Your head fell back into his shoulder and he hummed, “I’m sure we’ll know something soon. Between your people and mine, we’re bound to hear or notice something. It’s a matter of time.” You pursed your lips, rubbing your belly again; time was a luxury you did not have. “Besides,” he spun you so you’d face him. “He’s not stupid. He wouldn’t just attempt to get rid of you; he probably knows we’re together.”

Your expression didn’t smooth, “For as long as he does bullshit without us knowing, we won't own the city.”

He nuzzled you, “He’s just one man. One tiny, meaningless man. Don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t seem fully convinced but you definitely relaxed in his arms that night, and the few nights after. Yoongi believed what he had told you: if the both of you were blinded to the Commissioner’s movements, then he was to yours too. You were stronger than him, you were together. You were bound to win.

But that night when he drove to the Aether at the maximum speed his car allowed, he wondered if he’d been too naive. If it was right to think that owning 98% of the city was enough to protect you and your child, only to learn the worst way possible that it could all fall through the cracks.

He arrived at the club, and from the outside it might have looked like the security were handling a typical problem, like a rowdy customer. When Thoma greeted him at the entrance, Yoongi followed him hurriedly, his blood freezing inside his veins. Your head of security didn’t just make that face for no reason.

Still, Yoongi couldn’t have believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. Before he got to your office, he passed your security and staff being checked by medics in the hallway, some even bleeding on the floor, almost passed out. Yet, when he entered your office, the situation dawned on him.

You had put up a fight. Your office was completely upside down, with your screen and papers on the floor, fallen chair, and broken glass everywhere. There was blood on the floor, which he kneeled to see. His fists closed instantly at the thought of you getting hurt, but maybe you had hurt them instead before they took you. You were good with your knife. He looked around; he couldn’t see it anywhere.

He got up, “Who the fuck?”

He asked simply, quietly, and Thoma answered, “Look at the back of the door.”

Yoongi turned, his dark eyes scanning the open door for traces of it being used or handled some way. His long, black raincoat billowed behind him as he moved and quickly used a glove to push the door closed.

I also prefer it quiet.

The scribbles or the paper glued to the door made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Does it mean anything to you?”

Yoongi’s eyes were the color of death, “Yes, and it does for you, too. You’re going to do exactly as I say.”

Thoma disagreed with Yoongi’s instructions, but he’d carry them out anyway. Yoongi didn’t care about the man’s opinion; it wasn’t him who was about to lose his whole life to a bug he didn't squish properly.

When Yoongi had decided to help you back when it was a conscious decision. Not just to step into your life, but to stay in it. To make it better. To use what he had at his disposal to do so. He didn’t regret it for a second, not even now. Some would say he was reaping what he sowed, but that was a stupid understanding of the situation. A coward’s subservient view on what was happening — when they touched you, they knew there were only two possible outcomes. And for Yoongi, there was only one. 

Of course, Thoma didn’t like calling the police and reporting the assault or that you were kidnapped. But the police responded to Yoongi in that area, so that wasn’t the problem. He didn’t like that he was to play dumb and not tell them who had done it. Eventually, they would be shown footage that Officer Jung could recognize, all to buy Yoongi the right amount of time. 

Because to Yoongi there was only one outcome. As he stopped in a hidden alley without cameras, he opened the trunk of his car and pulled the bottom to reveal a secret compartment where he had an arsenal. He picked and loaded a pistol, screwed in the silencer, and hid it along with magazines under his long raincoat. Then, he made his way to the back of the Evgeni Sports Center.

Yoongi refused one of the possible outcomes as if it wasn’t possible. That was maybe why he entered the building casually and unnoticed amidst a football game, making the big crowd watching it on the flat screen completely wild. The beer was plentiful, as were the cheers, and he was able to swiftly enter the kitchen in the back, where the staff didn’t dare look at him. He was a man with a purpose and only one option.

When he reached the back door and went down the stairs, he grabbed his pistol and started his work. There was only one justice down there — the one he inflicted himself. Big or small, he didn’t care. People fell like flies before the commotion began and even then, to reach him was a nearly impossible task. He was an agent of death dealing it swiftly to everyone who had dared to condone this heinous crime. To touch you at any point would have been dangerous, but now? It was a death wish — the only possible outcome.

Blood tainted the walls at his passage while he shot, punched, and kicked whoever dared to stand in his way to find you. He noticed the heavy metal doors, knowing they hid bullshit that wasn’t meant to be found, but he continued. It would be a shit show, but he didn’t care. His officers would show and turn the place upside down. Weapons? Drugs? Torturing people? He huffed and wiped the blood off his knuckles; all fine and dandy, but not what he was looking for.

He didn’t mean to, but he ended up cleaning that floor like it was a military operation. No one but people being tortured were left alive in his wake; no witnesses, no surprises. All he wanted was you, he’d leave once he got what he came for.

He held his gun up and in position as he faced the last door at the end of the corridor. It took him one second to calculate the odds of finding you there. Then he risked it and opened it, only for a kick to hit his hands hard.

He grunted, and although he didn’t instantly loosen his grip on the weapon, a punch to his back made his form crumble.

A series of punches made him grunt and raise his arms to defend himself, and a careful dance ensued. Yoongi almost lost his patience as he handled that single amazing enemy, but then two things happened: his pistol fell to the floor, and he saw you.

You were sitting on a lonesome chair in the middle of that humid, dark storage room, tied and pale. He instantly saw your shining eyes and the hairs glued to your forehead with sweat, your chest heaving tensely over your swollen belly, and knew he hadn’t come fast enough. He needed to get to you.

Those fuckers just had to keep their strongest guy next to you. It pissed Yoongi off; he much rather shoot him too. But he was forced to fight and manage the situation, not letting him get near you or the gun.

After a succession of punches and counters, Yoongi landed a punch on the guy’s ear and made a judgment call that put everything in jeopardy — he ran to you. Your eyes widened, seeing the guy behind Yoongi rush for the gun on the floor. He was dizzy from the punch, and your brain struggled — even if you warned him, Yoongi would never make it back in time to grab it.

So you shook your leg frantically, “The knife!”

Yoongi rushed to kneel before you and grab the knife, thinking to use it to set you free, but you kicked him as hard as you could.

A gunshot echoed and Yoongi’s breath caught as he fell back to the floor. For a second, he thought his life was over — not because he had been shot, but because you had.

But a split second was enough to hear the bullet ricocheting off somewhere and hear the guy fall to the floor. Yoongi’s training kicked in and two seconds later, he was on top of the guy, trying to finish it. His enemy was brave, dizzy, and without balance, but he was still a tougher foe than most people Yoongi had encountered in his career or training. The pistol had fallen somewhere when the guy had lost his balance, so it was all about the knife. They started fighting for it and in a slip of his hand, the guy caught it, and slash.

Yoongi grunted and fell back, holding onto his face more with shock and instinct, than actual pain. He thought he was blind for a moment, feeling something thick on his fingers while his sight darkened, but he couldn’t stop. To stop was to endanger you, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He opened his good eye and, seeing the guy with his back turned advancing toward you, Yoongi rushed to kick him as hard as he could in the back of the knee.

The guy fell forward with a grunt, letting the knife fly away, and in your attempts to escape him, you leaned back on the chair. The push was enough to make you gasp and fall back with a bang that scared Yoongi shitless. His head was hurting, and along with the blood covering his eye, it put him off balance, to his frustration. He gritted his teeth, trying to get to the fallen guy by crawling; it wasn’t like it was his ears, so his balance was fine. It was just his damn eye!

But he didn’t move fast enough; suddenly, he heard steps rushing and tried to get back on track and jump on the guy, but he couldn’t see him. It was too late.

A gunshot echoed again, and this time a body hit the floor. Yoongi sat up and rubbed at his eyes roughly, widening his eyes to check on you , and there you were. In the same dress as this morning, though covered in sweat, dry blood, dust and now even chair bits from when it shattered with your fall, standing a few steps away from him, emotionlessly eying the guy you had shot in the head.

Then, you rushed to his side and kneeled. Yoongi wanted to grab you close, speechless, but you grabbed his head instead and brushed his longer dark hair aside.

You sighed in relief, “You’re okay, it’s just a scratch.”

He blinked at you, finally acknowledging the sting on his eyelid and cheek and that he could see fine, but instantly it didn’t matter. He widened his eyes at you, raising his arms around you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

You meant to get up, but you groaned. Something wasn’t right.

Yoongi called your name and you looked at him. It was as though you had gone deaf; his lips were moving but you could barely hear him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding,” he repeated, supporting you more steadily, trying to calm you, but you were confused.

“I’m not, I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.”

“No,” he brushed your cheeks gently, trying to make you focus. “You’re bleeding.”

It was like a CD entered the slot and it finally dawned reality on you. You looked down, holding onto his arms around you, and the pain hit you like a truck. You were bleeding down your legs, and suddenly you were dizzy. Your legs couldn’t hold you; you only wanted to curl around yourself and he let you down slowly.

“It hurts—”

“Breathe.”

Yoongi started the breathing exercises you both had learned but the way you glared at him was enough.

“I’ll carry you out. Ready?”

Your groan had a pitch of fear, but you bit your lip and screamed through the pain as he lifted you in his arms. Everything was a blur; hot and cold sweats going up and down your spine as you tried not to scream your pain out. It was visceral, terrifying, and rife with despair— something was wrong. You needed help. Now.

Once upstairs, people had scattered in a commotion, but fortunately, it seemed nobody quite knew what was going on. Some were running outside, others were filming, but the center's staff was surprisingly quiet. It was almost like suddenly, there was no one to take charge.

Fortunately, an ambulance had already been called to tend to the reported distress at the building. So when Yoongi stepped out with you in his arms, the paramedics quickly turned to the pregnant person with a bloody dress instead of a drunk making a scene.

In a matter of seconds, you were on a stretcher being carried inside the ambulance, and Yoongi wanted to go with you. 

But you held his hand, “No.”

He frowned, but you just looked behind him and then gave him a look, and he understood. He let go of your hand and instantly turned back as swiftly as possible. The crowd was in shock with the reported noise and the bloodied pregnant woman that just passed by them, and so, distracted.

Yoongi rushed downstairs, leaving the door closed behind him. He grabbed your blade and his pistol, then quickly looked around. It was a storage room with all sorts of boxes and containers, and he needed something that could destroy evidence fast, but not so fast that all the people tied up in other rooms, bleeding to death, couldn’t be rescued in time.

In the end, he found flammable paint and poured it on stacks of documents far back in the room before setting them on fire with a lighter. He hoped the humidity made the fire spread slowly enough, but even just the water from the sprinklers would help once they were triggered.

After dealing with that, he made his way completely upstairs through another set of stairs that weren’t accessible to the public. 

He had been there before, so he knew exactly where to go and that there were no cameras. He assumed he had killed most of the goons because only a handful tried to stop him. By then, he had reloaded, and nothing could stand in his way. Something was wrong; you weren’t supposed to be bleeding. It was too soon. It was all those fuckers fault!

He reached the office of Prokhor Evgeni and staggered for a second — Jae Seong Seok was sitting right there as though he had had an audience with the Russian. Both older men looked scared, which made the situation strange, almost comical. Only Yoongi wasn’t in a laughing mood; he raised his pistol and shot precisely twice.

Each man fell back onto their chair or on the floor while Yoongi pushed his hair back with annoyance, flaring, “I said I like it fucking quiet.”

Before his anger could go further, his phone started buzzing inside his pocket, and he sobered up. That meant Thoma had told Officer Jung what he needed to know; that signaled that the force was establishing a perimeter and a team to swarm the place.

He holstered his gun on his belt, then quickly put on gloves and searched for each man’s guns. Prokhor had one in his desk drawer, and Yoongi used it to shoot Jae Seong Seok a couple of times before shooting all around the room and throwing it on the floor. The Commissioner had a revolver with him, and it wasn’t hard to shoot in Prokhor’s direction and simulate a scene. Would it raise questions? Absolutely. But the more questions it raised, the harder it would be to get to the actual truth.

Yoongi went downstairs and blended in with the crowd still lingering about before reaching for the fire alarm to pull it. A loud siren went off, and the fire in the basement must have finally triggered the sprinklers because they went off, too. He made his way out amongst everybody else. Then, he faced the sky and started laughing.

He thought to just take out his raincoat so no one would know he was inside, but it was raining outside. So he stood there under the rain, smirking, letting it wash away the blood from his face, clothes, and any evidence that he had been inside.

He stood under the elements the whole time, the image of diligence coordinating the police and firemen who responded to the scene. It was a bloodbath and instantly the bodies became the reason for a national scandal. The media couldn’t get enough of it, especially the bit about the Commissioner and the Head of a Mafia family. The officers, though, were more inclined to believe the Commissioner had come to save you in person, and something had gone wrong. Maybe your child was even his. It would make sense, considering both your statuses. Maybe you were having an affair.

Yoongi focused on making sure that everything was accounted for, even the witnesses that said he was seen before the firemen and police arrived. He made sure their statement was taken too because they were contradictory with other witnesses. Some saw him carrying a pregnant lady, some only saw him when the alarm went off. The more information the police had, the better.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you. He understood why you asked him to stay, he needed to finish things and handle the outcome. After all, you both needed to own that city.

But he was dying to hear news from you. He had texted your people as soon as he had a second, so he knew they were with you, but still. Waiting just wasn’t possible, not tonight.

He was smoking and wrapping up the last details before the scene could be sealed when his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He picked it up this time, and the wails of a baby caught his breath.

“Is it done?”

“Yes,” he breathed, then he closed his eyes. “Our boy?”

“Eager to meet you.”

“You?”

“Come see for yourself.”

He didn’t need anything else to tell the last Officers on the scene he was leaving. He walked away to reach his car, then drove calmly to the hospital. He was drenched, so he left his raincoat inside the car and got on the elevator straight to the level you were in.

You were in a private, spacious room with everything you could need. It was just you, already wearing something of your own under the sheets, snoozing with a baby to your chest. Yoongi neared you and kissed your forehead, closing his eyes with the relief flooding him. You awoke with his touch and leaned in closer. He smelled of rain and new beginnings.

When he pulled away, you reached to touch the cut. Someone had cleaned it, leaving it red and furious across his eye, top to bottom. Looking into each other’s eyes, you knew the other was fine. Each with your own pain, but united in that moment, at last.

Finally, Yoongi took a look at his son. He was reddened too, with puffy cheeks and pouty lips, just like yours. He leaned in to kiss and nuzzle his son with a heart so full, he couldn’t speak. All he could do was sit on the bed, embracing you and him in his arms. 

You were looking at your baby before you noticed your position, englobing your son on two fronts, completely. Your lips curved, and you looked at Yoongi. You had finally won.

There we have it! I hope it was a nice, wild ride! 😁👋💜