yoonmin lace & leather nsfw

27 🥀

Between the potholes and the pancake breakfast, the unsettling feeling in my gut accompanied by the ever so familiar acidity of bile in the back of my throat made me nauseous. I groaned quietly as the vehicle rolled to a stop.

"Are you feeling alright? Do you need anything?" Yoongi looked over at my slumped figure. He leaned over and with the back of his hand, checked the temperature of my forehead and cheeks.

"No, I'm alright," I nod at my statement as if the small action could make it magically come true. The look on his face showed that he wasn't buying it. Yoongi stepped out of the vehicle and walked around to the passenger side. Unfastening the strap around my chest, he lifts me out and carries me inside.

I hadn't payed too much attention to the house's entrance the first time I came. Everything was tinted in dark shades. From the double staircase on either side of the entry that lead to the top floor to the minimal but pretty decor, it all seemed to have the same sleek appearance.

"Yoongi?"
"Yes, Jiminie?"
"I can walk, you know," I mumble. As much as I love being carried and held, I don't want him to think or treat me like I'm some helpless victim. He lowers me to the ground and leads me up to his room.

I've tried my hardest to ignore the feeling, but my stomach is making me far too uncomfortable. I knew this would happen because of how much I ate. Now I'm left feeling ill.

"I assume you don't want to wear formal clothes all day; would you like something more comfortable?" he asks as he shifts the hangers in his closet.
"Yes please." I can hear the ruffling of clothing as he finds the comfiest shirt he owns. He tosses it on the bed beside me and moves to his drawers to find pajama bottoms.

Yoongi leaves the set on the bed, then picks his own loungewear. He excuses himself and changes in the restroom attached to his room. I toe off each shoe and leave them by the foot of the bed. Once he's out of sight, I unbutton and slide off my pants. The bottoms are a plaid grey made with thick material. I tighten the drawstring and tie a little bow to secure it. Paying no mind to the soreness in my sides, I pull the shirt over my head and toss it next to the pants. From across the room, my reflection catches my eye.

I walk to the full length mirror and stare at the ugly colors smeared over my skin. Some are yellowing and turning a sickening greenish-brown hue, whereas some are soft shades of lilac and periwinkle. If I squint, it almost looks like a beautiful garden left in ruins. I run my hands over the marks, wishing them to magically fade and disappear. My attempts, as expected, are futile. Even when they heal, the scars left on my soul and mind won't dissolve so easily.

I know it's for the best that I'm no longer with him at the moment, but I can't help but long for him. For his loving words, kind touches and mindful actions. For now, all I have of him are the marks he left me with. Jackson means so much to me that I've just learned to overlook his irrational behavior. Love is a crazy thing.

Behind me in the mirror, Yoongi exits the restroom, sweatpants and a loose shirt hanging on his frame.

He walks up to me, standing with his chest nearly touching my back as he looks over my right shoulder.
"How are you feeling?" His eyes follow my reflected movements as I sorrowfully trace my fingers over the black and blue.
"I'm not sure," my lips barely move as I breathed out my response.
"That's alright. Do you need anything? Any ice? Water? Something to help with any pain?" Yoongi lists and I shake my head at them all, though they all sound wonderful.

Face contorting into a mix of bitter distaste and sadness, I rub over the assortment of colors as if scrubbing them off like dirt. The stains remain, their presence upsetting me further and further. The discoloration lingers, my waterline harboring tears.

The mirror mimics every move as Yoongi's hand hovers over arm, gliding down to my wrist. He presents his hand palm up and I place mine on his. He lifts our hands near his face, intertwining fingers. For the second time today, he slowly peppers ginger kisses over the unpleasant blemishes. Immediately, the gesture washes away my negative thoughts. He trails innocent pecks over the marks and I let my tears spill.

Such a simple action, yet holds so much meaning. He finishes by gently kissing my hand before grabbing the shirt from the bed and helping me into it.

Still facing the reflective glass, he wraps his arms around my torso. We melt into each other's warmth.

"I really do hope you know how much you're worth. You're so precious. You might not realize it now, but I hope you do soon."