Small slice-of-life scenes in non-chronological order that describe the slow growth of your relationship, started as a friends-with-benefits affair.
Aka, Yoongi is dumb and learns that love can't be controlled.
🌸🌸🌸
Character | Min Yoongi x reade...
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Day 2
When Yoongi kissed you at the Halloween party, it's not like he wanted anything from you.
He was there only because Jimin had to introduce him to one of his classmates; soon after, Seokjin discovered it and decided to accompany him to give him some moral support (but Yoongi wasn't born yesterday. It was crystal clear that his best friend followed him only to hit on Park Byeol, who, in turn, was there to hit on Kim Taehyung). And Jimin's friend, in the end, turned out to be the most boring girl on the solar system, so much that he prayed that the alcohol could knock him out instantly.
It wasn't in his plans to find himself on the balcony with his hands on your hips and his lips sealed on your own.
Frankly, he was very veeery drunk and very veeery pissed off for being stuck in that living nightmare; and you were very veeery sexy in that pretty banal, pretty tight latex suit of Catwoman.
You were a side-effect of three beers, two glasses of wine, and your heart-attack ass, that's all.
But... ugh, well... ok, honestly, it's almost a year that Yoongi doesn't fuck, and once back in his dormitory he touched himself under the sheets after six months not doing it, thinking about your body against his own. And it happened again this morning, under the shower, still replaying you in his mind.
This has been a more than enough reason to reply to your message sat in his phone for a few hours –he didn't even remember you exchanged numbers- and agree to meet up at the bar close to the KUN of Arts –he didn't even remember you attended the same university- oblivious of what might happen now that you're both sober.
And so there you are, barely fifteen steps away, some soft music playing in the background, and definitively different from the sexy kitten that he treasures in the back of his mind: your hair is worn in a tidy ponytail, a light touch of eyeliner sketches your eyes fixed on a book, and a turtleneck sweater accents the soft line of your breast.
You're less glitzy, but still able to set his lower abdomen on fire.
His heart does an annoying flattering thing in his chest as he approaches you, the body shattered by a nervousness he didn't feel since he stopped dating girls. He sees you take the mug to your mouth, a simple and not-so sensual gesture that throws him back to the instant before you kissed -when you drank straight for his bottle of beer and he thought that your lips would look amazingly on his own, or around his dick--!
