A/N: Jess this ones for you! :3 MUAH!

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Five days later and I am still blushing incessantly over the way Yoongi had proposed that we 'practice' making babies. In the end, he played it all off as a big joke, but I can't help the way that it has stuck with me. I feel incredibly stupid. And yet I can't help but wonder. Yoongi has been so patient with me, never pushing me past what I am comfortable with. But how long will he wait? And why did the idea of him moving on gnaw at my insides, festering until it feels likes it could explode from within me? What is this feeling that has pervaded my being?

A sudden knock on the bathroom door startles me, causing me to almost literally choke on toothpaste. Yoongi's voice carries through the door, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" I splutter as I recover from my near brush with death. My right hand is holding my throat gingerly, while the other is braced upon the sink as I suck in copious amounts of that pesky little thing called air.

"You don't sound fine! I'm coming in!" He yells, just before the door is literally ripped open. Wood splinters from the door as Yoongi comes crashing in. "Jagi!" He shouts as he spots me. He rushes to my side, wrapping his arms around me in concern. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I'm fine," I wheeze. He lifts my face, forcing my eyes to gaze into his own. I take a moment to collect my composure before proceeding with eyes still nearly the size of saucers. "You startled me, and I was brushing my teeth."

It is so rare to see this side of Yoongi, the one that blushes, but I feel as if I've been given a gift from whatever gods may truly exist as he erupts into one of the biggest smiles I have ever seen, complete with a vibrantly rosy hue in his cheeks. He erupts into a sheepish and almost bashful mess and it is so glorious to see that I can't help but lose myself in this moment with him. As he buries his face in the crook of my neck, his arms wrap around my body in such a comforting way that I almost feel as if I could become a pile of melted mush.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, breath tickling my neck and sending shivers down my spine.

It is such an indescribably odd sensation that is flooding through me now. My limbs become stiff and alert, as if danger were approaching. And yet there is something that feels almost sinister swimming in my belly, writhing and coiling within, waiting to strike. Goosebumps bloom across the slightly pinkened skin of my exposed arms.

"You smell so good, jagi," he all but moans into my skin which is becoming rapidly more and more sensitive.

I cannot stop the breathy moan that escapes from my throat in response. It feels so good. Somehow his body seems to be breathing life into mine, and it aches in a way that makes me feel drunk and giddy. I barely feel Yoongi tense beneath me, so lost am I in the sensations overwhelming my senses. And just as I succumb to the sweet temptation of it all, Yoongi steps away from me with an awkward shuffle.

"Hurry up and get ready, we leave at noon," he groans.

As Yoongi makes his grand escape sporting an awfully stiff gait, I stare at the door, dumbfounded. What just happened? And why am I left with this nearly painful craving for more?

By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs Yoongi is waiting for me. He looks so very handsome as he leans against the doorframe with his ripped jeans, black t-shirt, and messily styled hair that he takes my breath away for just a moment. Barely concealed within his eyes is a burning, dark, and dangerous look as he appraises my form. Though I blush, I am grateful that I decided to go with the pale green sundress after all. Initially, I wasn't sold on it, since the sleeveless nature of the frilly dress leaves my freckled shoulders exposed.

"You look good enough to eat," he teases. Yet there is an underlying husky timbre to his voice that betrays his genuine enthusiasm.

"You don't look too bad yourself," I tell him shyly. I am relieved that for once my voice does not squeak or crack and the blushing is kept to a solid minimum. "Where are we going?"

He seizes my hand, laughing when my blush intensifies. "I just want to show you around my hometown." He says with a smile. "I thought we could go out for lunch and just walk around. You did say that you wanted to know more about me right?"

I nod my head mutely as he drags me out the door and onto the streets. It's always been zero to eighty with Yoongi, and her it still leaves me dazed. "Wait!" I shout, planting my feet in an effort to slow the excited man in front of me. Yoongi stops dead in his tracks. "What about Holly? Will it be okay for you to be out in public, and with me no less?"

"It's fine," he says with another smile. "And Holly will be fine too, I promise."

Despite his reassurances, there is something about the situation that causes me to rapidly amass high levels of anxiety. His hand engulfing my own acts as an anchor, tethering me to his comforting personage. I take deep breaths, steeling myself for the experience to come as he drags me all over the streets of Daegu.

By the time lunch rolls around, Yoongi and I are seated in a beat down looking restaurant that, according to Yoongi, serves the best food in town, though he admits that he might be biased since the owner is a long time friend of his brother's, and therefore a long time friend of his. Food has already been ordered, and despite the exterior of the place, the interior is warm and cozy. It reminds me of the kind of place that would feel like home. Yoongi's hand hasn't released my own since this morning, not even once. 

"I did know that you have an older brother, but I don't know much about him. What is he like?" I ask him as we wait for our meal.

"He's the best hyung anyone could ask for," he replies quickly, easily. "Even when my parents nearly disowned me he remained firmly by my side. Eomma and Appa were convinced that I should become a doctor, or a lawyer, and go to school like hyung. They said that I'd never make it anywhere in music. But hyung refused to let me give up on my dreams, even when it was damn near impossible not to."

I can tell from the way that his eyes light up when he speaks of his brother that he truly admires him. Though bad boy Yoongi might set my body on fire, soft Yoongi, the part of him I've come to know so well, has wrapped himself around my heart so firmly that there is no longer space for doubt. "Well, look who got the last laugh," I tell him gently. The corners of my lips are slightly upturned in a peaceful, contented kind of smile. Yoongi rewards me with a smile in turn.

"Yeah," he says.

It's simple, an acknowledgment of how far he has come, and yet I am delighted to see him soak in his achievements for even a moment. Too often it seems that it is easier for Yoongi to bury himself in his own doubts, to drown himself in his work for lack of satisfaction. It is good to see him own all that he has accomplished.

"What about you?" He inquires. "Do you have any siblings?"

My face falls, even if only slightly, as I try to determine how to explain my own situation without going into too many details. It isn't that I don't trust Yoongi, and in many ways I find myself wanting to lay everything bare, but simply can't. Once he realizes all the baggage that I carry will he still want me anymore? What if I burden him with my experiences? There are things that have been done to me that I can barely live with. How can I expect Yoongi to live with them? No. I can't bring myself to say much more than a simple, "I don't know."

He looks at me quizzically, waiting for an expansion upon my statement. His gaze makes me feel so uncomfortable, caring and gentle as if he is telling me without words that he can be trusted. As if he cares. But that isn't fair, because I know that he does. Then again, I knew that Sarah cared too, and look where that ended up. On top of all of this, I know, in the bottom of my heart, that this is a dream that cannot continue. So far I have been lucky, and have been graced with the chance to love this beautiful man. But he is an idol, and I am nothing more than a fan. How could it continue forever? What do I expect? Marriage? Unlikely.

I feel my heart drop into my stomach as I realize the truth that I have not so directly admitted to myself. I love Min Yoongi. I am in love. The knowledge hits me like a ton of bricks and turns my stomach into a churning pit of anxiety.

Yoongi continues to watch me silently, patiently, waiting for me to open up to him. Unfortunately, my tongue has become so heavy that I don't think I could lift it even if I desired to. But that's okay. As I squirm in my seat Yoongi seems to pick up my discomfort and deftly diffuses it.

"It's okay if you'd rather not talk about it," he says gently.

I shake my head, doubtlessly clearing the mess from my mind with a vow to think about it later. "It's just that I don't know my family," I tell him meekly. "I was raised in foster care."

A look of compassion flashes through his eyes, only briefly. "Well, you have us now Emmy. I'm sure I don't need to tell you this but the boys absolutely adore you. You have a family now."

I don't think I could love Min Yoongi anymore than I do at this moment, no matter how hard I tried.

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"It's so rare to see you like this," I tell Yoongi as he drags me through the streets of Daegu, gummy smile on full display. "I like it."

"Oh yeah?" He asks me teasingly. "You haven't seen anything yet! Just wait until tonight! There's something very special I want to show you," he tells me. "I've been saving it, just for you."

My stomach erupts into butterflies. I am filled with anticipation, and only in the best of ways. All day Yoongi has been telling me that he has a surprise in store for tonight. He's been super excited and hyperactive all day, and it's refreshing to see him come alive like this.

He drags me through all of the shops downtown, and despite his fame, no one here hassles him. Perhaps it's because this is his hometown. Everyone greets him as if they know him, and many treat him like an old friend. It's a nice change of pace and I can tell from the smile in his face that he feels the same. He shows me each of his old haunts, recalling for my benefit the stories behind them. And as he does I am fortunate enough to catch glimpses of the reasons that Yoongi became the man that he is.

Now, as we stand in front of the door to one of his favorite establishments, a small salon that he swears has the best coffee in the world, I feel at peace with my realization. Yes. I am in love with Min Yoongi.

The same Min Yoongi who's gummy smile lights the way forward when I feel that I've lost my way. The one whose laughter is all I ever wish to hear. He is so many things, warm and sweet, and yet he is also strong and determined. There's a goofy side to him as well. It's not that I've never noticed it before, it's simply that it is so much more pronounced here where he seems so much lighter, so much more carefree.

I've been telling myself that it can't be love. That it's much too soon. That nothing good can come of this. But looking at how alive Yoongi is makes me want to believe. In him, in us, and in all of the ways that we are worth it. Yes, I love him. And that's okay. Maybe it really is okay to just be with him, and worry about the future as it comes.

I smile as I watch him interact with the owner of the salon. She's an obviously middle-aged woman with a stern look to her. But, to my surprise, her harsh gaze melts away, leaving behind a warm and nurturing woman. He seems particularly fond of her, smiling freely as she fusses over him.

"Look at you!" She exclaims as he hugs him tightly. She pulls away and her eyes immediately zero in on his hair.

"Aish! Why have you let them do this to your hair! It looks positively fried!" She shouts, fingers delving into his hair with familiarity. "There's nothing for it, I'll have to do some damage control while you're here. How long will you be home for?"

He scratches his neck, and I can already tell that he's in for an earful. "I leave tomorrow evening," he tells her sheepishly.

She swats the back of his head before shouting "And why haven't you come to see me before now? Mr. Lee told me you were here some few days ago!"

Yoongi gives her an apologetic look before responding "I had too many other things to do."

"Mhmm," she scolds, not in the least convinced. "I know how newlyweds are, but don't you think you could have spared five minutes to come and introduce me to your new wife? For all of that time holed up in your house, I expect to have some nieces or nephews running around soon you animal! Mr.Lee hasn't stopped gushing about her for days!"

Once again I open my mouth with the intention of setting the record straight but I stutter in embarrassment as I realize the implication in her words and am beaten to the punch by the lady, whose name I still have not heard. "You must be the new Mrs. Min!" She walks to me with arms outstretched, excitement in her step. "Well come now," she says "give me a hug! You're part of the family now!"

I look to Yoongi in panic. Surely this woman deserves to know the truth! But look at how happy she is to be meeting Yoongi's "wife". How can I possibly tell her the truth now? But Yoongi is of no help to me. He simply smirks at me in amusement even as he gestures forward with his hands as if saying " just hug her". I can't tell if he is playing a very cruel joke or if he is actually simply amused by my reticence, so I alternatively freeze, stuck in the headlights of this woman's attention much like a deer.

And, oh, how feeble and meek I feel as she approaches. Shame immediately floods my being. She deserves to know. Instead, I allow her to hug me, feeling quite out of place under the weight of her affection.

She pulls back, after what feels like a century, and grasps my shoulders with surprising strength to tell me "Now let me get a good look at you!"

She says this as she begins to fuss over me, turning me this way and that in obvious inspection. "Ooohh, he told me you were a beauty! Just look at you! Yoongi, you've landed yourself a gem! Yoongi you lucky little rascal! Ooohh!" She squeals as she notices my curls. "Yoongi she has such beautiful hair!!! So red and curly! And it's virgin hair Yoongi! Virgin hair!"

I blush under her inspection, only causing her to squeal even louder. She opens her mouth to ask a question but pauses, a sudden realization flashing across her face. "You speak Korean?" She inquires softly, face filled with uncertainty. The effort put into each word is clear, and I am immensely touched that she would put in so much effort to communicate with me.

"Yes ma'am, I do," I tell her meekly.

She resumes her initial fussing but I can no longer understand what she says as her words begin to fire off rapidly. It would seem I still have a ways to go in my Korean studies. My discomfort melts away as I gaze in Yoongi's direction. He looks so happy, proud almost, and the knowledge that he is so happy to introduce me to his loved ones makes my heart dance in my chest.

The sound of a bell is what finally frees me, and I suppress a sigh of relief as the lady rushes away to deal with her customer.

"Her name is Soo Joo," Yoongi tells me as he approaches. He takes my hand into his own as we watch her flit about the small salon. "She's my aunt. When my parents kicked me out I stayed with her for a time. She's always been supportive of my career. I used to help out here at the salon back then."

He grows quiet for a moment, the silence beckoning me to look at his face. He doesn't appear to be lost in any particularly sad thoughts, rather he seems content. I smile and lean against him, taking comfort in his nearness. "You said this place has the best coffee, but it's a salon," I say. It is a question, even if it isn't worded as such.

"Yeah," he smiles "you know how I am with sleep. Honestly, I've always been that way. Exhausted I mean. So she bought a small coffee maker, it's probably still in the back."

So it's the sentimental value of the coffee then, I'm beginning to notice a pattern. My smile grows wider, I am happy to be here with him, seeing pieces of his past.

"Yoongi-oppa? Is that you?" I hear from behind. I hadn't even heard the salon's bell, but there is now a young woman standing before us who obviously seems to know Yoongi.

"Oh my gosh! I can't believe it's actually you!" She squeals. "It's been ages since I saw you!"

She's beautiful, I notice. Long and glossy, dark colored hair, delicate features and petite build. She's everything I will never be. My heart is pierced with jealousy as she hugs him, causing him to release my hand.

"You're looking good, oppa!" She says as she releases him.

He looks slightly confused for a moment, before understanding dawns upon his face. "Hei Ran?" He asks incredulously. "Lee Hei Ran?"

She beams up at him, radiating happiness that he remembers her. "The one and only!" She exclaims joyfully. "For a second there I didn't think you were gonna remember me! But I guess your first crush tends to stick with you, huh?"

If I hadn't already been jealous, I would be now. It makes me sick, the way she clings to him while completely ignoring my presence. Even worse is the way that Yoongi just stands there and allows it. Instead of removing her from his person and announcing his relationship status he simply stands there, awkward like, and listens to her prattling on. The fact that he seems uncomfortable is entirely lost to me, seething as I am.

"Oh! Jun and I finally broke up!" She tells him, leaning in even closer. At this point, my boyfriend's arm is entirely lost in her cleavage. "Maybe you and I could go out sometime! Get a bite to eat?"

I'm ready to rip her head off at this point, my murderous intentions rolling off of me in waves. Of course, she doesn't notice. But Yoongi does. "Actually, I'm already taken," he says as he pulls me closer, finally prying her from his arm. "I actually came home to show my girlfriend around."

She frowns, the gesture marring her dainty features as she finally notices me. "I don't believe I've met you before," she tells me. There is no cheer left in her voice, but I am at least grateful that she is cordial.

"I'm not from here," I explain. "I moved here from America."

"Well, my name is Hei Ran, Yoongi-oppa and I go way back," she smirks "what's your name?"

"Emelia," I reply, offering my hand for her to shake.

She ignores the gesture, turning back to Yoongi so quickly that I'm surprised she manages to keep her balance. "It was great seeing you again," she tells him. She pulls a pen and notepad from her purse and scribbles a quick line of numbers down before handing it to Yoongi. "That's my number. Call me if you ever change your mind!"

As we leave the salon I storm off, despite not knowing my way around. Yoongi hastily throws the horrid little slip of paper into the trash before booking it in my direction. It doesn't take him long to catch up.

"Hey!" He shouts, grabbing my shoulder to halt my stride. I whip around to face him, anger etched into my features.

"What's wrong?" He asks, and I am baffled by the fact that he even needs to ask.

"Nothing's wrong," I retort snarkily "since it's apparently okay to allow some bimbo to hang all over you like a fucking tumor when your significant other is standing right next to you!"

Whatever else I may have expected, it certainly wasn't for him to laugh at me. But he does. A deep, full-bodied laugh, that has him bending over and grasping his stomach.

"Why is this funny to you?" I ask. I am absolutely fuming, how dare he?

"You're jealous!" He exclaims between fits of laughter. "Oh God, you're jealous of her!"

I fold my arms across my chest, tapping my foot as I wait for him to regain his composure. It feels as if I am standing there forever, waiting for him to explain. A thousand doubts find purchase in my mind, each one more disheartening than the last. Maybe Yoongi still likes her. Maybe his feelings for me are not as deep as mine, and maybe I'll even lose him to her. First crush she'd said, hadn't she?

"Jagi, you've nothing to worry about. My eyes are for you only, I promise," he tells me as he brushes a wayward lock of hair from my face.

"But she was your first crush," I mumble petulantly.

I can feel the anger crumbling away, leaving behind only a bitter, morose feeling that gnaws at me, heart and soul. I want to believe him. I really do.

"She actually wasn't," he explains "she's just always been full of herself. Too full of herself to notice the me that may have had a small crush on her in high school. It was nothing more than a passing fancy, one that she didn't deem worthy of returning until I became famous. Don't let it bother you, she could never mean to me what you do."

Maybe it's the way that he looks at me, eyes filled with such soft sincerity, but I believe him. I allow him to pull me into his embrace, reveling in the comfort and safety that his arms provide as I hide away from the world for a few blissful moments. "Next time," I mutter against his chest "that a woman tries to come onto you, I'm going to shank her."

He chuckles, the rumble of it reverberating through my being and causing me to smile in response. "I guess I'll just have to be more careful next time, so you don't have to," he says.

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By the time we arrive at the beach, the sun is already beginning to set, casting its golden and amber hues upon the world around us. It is a complete surprise, to say the least, that Yoongi would drag me to the beach especially given his particular distaste for exercise. And yet somehow, here we are, strolling hand in hand down the expanse of Daegu's now empty beach, bare feet leaving imprints in the tide-worn sand behind us. You wouldn't think the place would be completely empty, even now as the sun casts it's dying light upon the waves, and yet there is nary a soul in sight. Only the sound of the waves keeps us company as they gently ebb against the shore.

"The beach is the surprise you've been planning all day?" I ask him. It's nice, for sure, but not what I had anticipated.

"Something like that," he tells me, grinning from ear to ear. "You'll see very soon."

He leads us to a small, where a small basket awaits. After pulling a blanket from within he first helps me sit, before joining me. I snuggle into him, back to his chest as the last rays of light disappear from the sky. We watch, together, as the stars come out, twinkling in a merry display against the now calm water.

"I used to come here often when I was younger," he tells me quietly as we observe the night sky together. "Something about the beach at night is just so calming. It was here that I wrote a lot of my music initially. This is my place," he says " my getaway."

Suddenly, I want to tell him. Until now I've been content to let him show all of the emotion between us, a daunting task considering that Yoongi isn't exactly the most emotionally forward person in the world. And yet, he's made me feel so cared for. Maybe... maybe he feels the same way that I do. And though I might have been content to wait, and wonder, before the same cannot be said now. I need to know.

"Yoongi," I address him quietly. "I have to tell you something."

Maybe it's the seriousness of my tone, or maybe it's the nervousness that I can't quite seem to get a handle on, but I can feel the anxiety rolling off of him. I wring my hands, hoping that I'm not wrong because I'm in too deep to back up now.

"Did I do something wrong? Do you not like it?" He asks softly, hesitantly. I melt. So that's what he's worried about. "You're not breaking up with me are you?"

"No, Yoongi," I tell him with a smile. "I just wanted to tell you that I..." I pause, the words heavy in my throat. But I want to say it. I have to. "I love you."

It is little more than a whisper, but I know that he heard it because his face lights up in such a spectacular manner that all of my fears seem to vanish in the air. He pulls me into his lap, meal now forgotten as he buries his smiling face into my neck. My heart and stomach both flop around, refusing to be still. I am overwhelmed with giddiness.

"I love you, too," he whispers against the skin of my neck. "so, so much."

He leans back, just enough to take my chin with his thumb and forefinger. "I'm so lucky," he tells me before leaning in for a kiss.

Light explodes against the night sky in a myriad of magnificent and vibrant color. For a moment I almost feel as if the kiss itself has summoned metaphorical fireworks only to discover, as we pull apart, that there are now actual fireworks lighting up the sky. Yoongi chuckles against my cheek. "Mr. Lee sure has the best timing. Someday, when we actually get married, we're going to have to invite him," he tells me.

I smile. "Was it Mr. Lee who set off the fireworks?"

"Yeah," he answers "and he left the basket here for us. I told him we were on our way."

I'm so happy in this moment. Before, I'd never put much stock into the idea of soulmates. The idea that there is someone out there in the world that completes you was an idea that I hadn't wanted to entertain. But now, I understand it. Yoongi, he's my soulmate. I feel whole, happy, and free for the first time in my life now that he is in it.

I capture his face in my hands, staring at him intently, wanting to etch this moment into my mind for eternity. I've never been more ready for him to kiss me, and I am not disappointed. He leans forward, arms wrapped tightly around me as he begins a tender assault on my already kiss-bruised lips.

Yoongi's kisses have always been mesmerizing, but this one is entirely different. I am enthralled by the way that his lips glide against my own, by the way that he deftly coaxes me into surrendering entirely to him as he holds me close. Fireworks are still firing off in the background, but I can no longer hear the sound. Only my heart, beating in my ears as my veins sing for his touch. My fingers, which are tightly clutching his shirt, itch to lose themselves in his hair and I cannot fight the impulse. I wriggle in his lap, attempting to free my hands from his embrace, causing him to groan and pull away.

"Emmy, we've gotta-" he begins, but I am already too far gone.

I grab his hair, using it as leverage to pull his lips back onto mine. I am rewarded with yet another groan and I swallow it greedily as his hands find purchase on my hips. He allows me to control the kiss for once, and while I would normally have felt some semblance of pride over being able to affect him so, all I feel at the moment is impatience. It's clear that he is holding back, and I intend to put an end to that.

I break the kiss, pulling his head to the side so that I can nibble my way down the column of his throat. The sounds that spill from his lips makes my vaginal walls clench and I find myself unable to control my own hips as they rock against his burgeoning erection. The hands that had been resting idly upon my hips are now grasping them with such a bruising amount of force, guiding me in my ministrations. I moan and, throwing my head back, am met with an uninhibited view of the stars above. I watch, drunk in ecstasy, as another trail of color bursts before my eyes, lightening the dark sky above.

Now he is the one kissing my neck and I shiver under his teeth and tongue, deliciously drunk off of the sensations that they are causing within me. "Emmy..." he groans "we have to stop. I don't... I can't... Fuck!"

"It's okay, Yoongi," I reply breathlessly. "I want this. I'm ready."

"Are you sure? Jagi, I don't want you to-mmph" I interrupt him with another kiss; I don't want to think right now. I don't know what I'm doing, after all.

No longer hesitant, Yoongi's fingers begin to blaze a trail along my thighs, lightly skimming the flesh as he devours my lips greedily. It's all I can do to cling to him, and lose myself in him. Then, suddenly, he is kneading my ass with trembling fingers. I moan into the kiss, and he takes full advantage of it to thrust his tongue inside. I don't even realize how I am squirming against him until I feel his erection against my core, straining in his jeans. This feels amazing, but it isn't enough. More. I need more.

I break away from the kiss, both of us desperate for air. "Yoongi, please..." I whine against his neck. Though I am short of breath I continue to place small, open-mouthed kisses along his neck and collarbone, emboldened by the way it makes his breath catch and die in his throat.

With a groan, he responds. His still trembling fingers struggle with the zipper of my dress for a time, before he finally has had enough. The way that he proceeds to rip the dress away should make me angry, but instead, it only serves to stoke the flames within.

I cry out, a strangled, tortured kind of sob, as his mouth descends upon my nipple. He is ravenous and unrelenting in his attack, leaving me a writhing and sobbing mess. The tempo of my hips increases as I subconsciously seek more. Anything to ease the ache in my belly, my very being tingling with anticipation.

I nearly die when his fingers find their way into my underwear, pressing against my sensitive clit with practiced ease. I can't take any more of this. Detangling myself from his grasp is more difficult than I could have imagined, but I manage to stand, allowing my dress and underwear to pool at my feet. It doesn't even occur to me that we are at a public beach, all I can think about is the way that Yoongi sucks in a ragged breath at the sight of my bare body, glistening with perspiration in the enchanting moonlight.

I stand, covering my body self consciously with my hands as he drinks in the sight of me. He is like a man possessed as he rips my hands away. "Don't hide from me," he tells me huskily, "you're so beautiful."

He pulls me back down to join him on the blanket, laying me down softly. I run my hands up, beneath his shirt, feeling his pectorals flex as he hovers above me. I have never seen a man remove a shirt so fast in my life. My skin comes alive, blood burning in my veins, as he smothers my body within his own. There is no distance between us now as we writhe together in the sand, breath heavy and shortened by the passion we have both become a slave to.

"I love you," he moans between kisses, "so fucking much."

And as his tongue begins to lave a trail towards my navel, something within me snaps. "Yoongi!" I cry, fisting a handful of his hair as he buries his face into my folds. I am already a shaking, sopping mess. I don't know whether to push him away or pull him closer. All I can do is writhe against the sensation that is scorching me from the inside.

"Yooooongi!" I moan. "I can't... I need...." Words, which have ever been elusive to me anyway, are failing me. So, I do what I've always done best. After all, I've always believed in leading by example.

I tug firmly on his hair, and he allows me to pull his face back to my own. The way that I taste upon his lips ignites the flames within and they roar to life, scorching me with their intensity. I am now lost in the inferno. I feel so needy right now, aggravated by that last article of clothing between us. My fingers don't even tremble as I unbutton his jeans, eager to feel all of him, and he is quick to shuck them to the side. His lips abandon my own and I am briefly left wanting as he aligns his shaft with my core. "I love you so much," he moans as he once more smothers me with his form.

With one thrust he enters, breaking the barrier and sheathing himself fully inside of my aching cavern. I whimper slightly, and Yoongi showers my face with kisses. Though it is not nearly as painful as I'd been afraid it would be, it certainly isn't all rainbows and butterflies either. But that small, sharp, sting is quick to turn into pleasure as he begins to rock against me slowly, giving me time to adjust to the intrusion.

"I love you, I love you," I sob, burying my face into his neck. "I love you so much!"

"Jagi," he groans, "Fuck, you're so tight!"

It's not difficult to tell that he is holding back, the set of his jaw as he clenches his teeth is evidence enough. "Don't," I moan. "Don't hold back!"

Since my words don't incite any action on his behalf, I take an alternative route. I lift my hips, meeting him thrust for thrust even as I claw at his back in an attempt to bring him even closer to me and to that edge. I can feel it, so near and yet so infuriatingly far away. "I'm so close, Yoongi!" I whine. "Please!"

Within moments he is snapping his hips forward with such force that I am reduced to a sobbing, simpering mess beneath him. I cling to him for dear life as he loses control. The knot within my belly begins to unfurl as he pumps his shaft in and out of my core with a rough and bruising tempo that is becoming rapidly more erratic by the second.

"I- I'm not gonna last much longer, jagi," he groans. "I need you to cum for me. Cum for me, jagi."

And I do. The way that the world around me disappears is glorious, and in that moment all that exists is Yoongi, and I, and the wordless emotions that fill me as I fall apart around him. Though his name is on my tongue I am unable to utter a single word, silenced by the force of the orgasm that rips through me. Only a few pumps later, I know that Yoongi himself is about to cum.

Even so, it is abrupt, the way that he too, falls apart above me. The moonlight shines it's iridescent glow upon his hair, and I am mesmerized by the way that his face contorts as he releases himself inside of me, moaning freely as he comes undone. And now, as he rolls over and pulls me into his side, I realize that, no matter what else may come, my heart has always been his.