Chapter Text
There was something Min Yoongi found soul crushing about the inherent connection between lingerie and sex. His disinterest in sex somehow equated to lingerie becoming a cardinal sin in his mind. It was tiring constantly reining in desires that did not necessarily equate to what he wanted for himself. But that was part of being Min Yoongi.
Being perpetually single was a gift. In the privacy of his own home, Yoongi could indulge in his own whims and fantasies without the pressing fear of being misunderstood, though, the guilt of indulgence weighed heavily upon his shoulders.
He sighs one last time at the screen of his laptop. He’s scared of making this purchase – not of what it would mean to others, but what it would mean to himself. The model in the picture was almost enough to throw him off, but he checked the sizing chart against his measurements, closed his eyes and added it to the cart. Now he’s sat staring at the checkout screen, cursor hovering over proceed to payment. $63.98 for two sets of a daisy patterned lace underwear and bralette. One in pale yellow, one in soft pink. Free delivery, but with the price of a sin.
A heavy feeling settles in his heart once the payment processes. He should feel relieved for finally doing something he has always wanted to do. The boys in the videos he likes to watch always look so pretty when they wear pretty, lacy underwear. He wants to feel pretty like them. Yet, that is where the shame stems from. The videos he likes to watch – it’s all porn.
It’s not even that he watches it to get off. He watches it because he finds it fascinating. It's all amateur stuff; two people coming together and making each other feel good. Yoongi doesn't know how they do it, how they feel comfortable with one another in such a vulnerable state. He wishes he could feel that way, but he knows he never will.
He leaves for class a few hours later, eager for the arrival of his package within the next few days. He has a workshop class for creative writing this afternoon and part of him is excited to go because he's sure Jeongguk will be there. They'll be workshopping his piece in class. Yoongi has read it -- it's simply stunning. He admires how brave Jeongguk is to present "controversial" topics in class like sex and sexuality and queerness. He would not dare to do the same for fear of misinterpretation and judgement. His skin is nowhere near as thick as Jeongguk's.
The room is almost empty when he arrives, only three other students are dotted around the room at different tables, conscientiously working on other assignments. He sits down at his usual seat and gives his notes on the class readings another onceover, so he doesn't look stupid when he tries to say something during class to make sure he gets his participation mark.
Jeongguk enters the room right before class starts and Yoongi hopes with all he has that Jeongguk will sit next to him. He's not in love with him per say, he just really wants to be really good friends with him. Friends that spend probably too much time with each other and cross the line between platonic and "romantic" -- whatever the fuck that is -- far too often.
Jeongguk sits next to him.
Yoongi is happy about it.
“Hey. How are you?” Jeongguk asks quietly, shifting in his seat nervously.
“I’m alright, thank you,” Yoongi replies softly. He bites his lip, trying to work up the courage to say what has been on his mind for a while. The words jumble around in his stomach until they finally spill up his throat. “I really liked your piece.”
“Thank you. I was kind of nervous about getting the class to read it, to be honest with you.”
Something short circuits in his brain. Jeongguk? Nervous? But he is always so confident and unashamedly himself. Yoongi could barely begin to comprehend how Jeongguk could be nervous, until he realises, perhaps they are not too dissimilar at the core.
“I don’t want to be misunderstood; you know?”
Yoongi knows. All too well.
Class begins before Yoongi can articulate a reply. They begin with a student presentation on the readings and then settle into a group discussion. Yoongi carefully listens, hoping for an obvious gap in the conversation, but every time he opens his mouth, someone else speaks. It begins to get disorienting until Jeongguk finishes speaking.
“I think Yoongi-ssi has something to say,” he says politely, practically handing Yoongi the mic on a silver platter.
Yoongi stutters for a moment and glances at his notes, trying to remember what he wanted to contribute to the discussion. Physicality. Lyricism. All that kind of shit. He constructs a reply haphazardly, using all those big words he'd learnt from listening to other people analyse texts. It's nothing special and earns him a half-hearted nod from the class before someone else speaks up and continues from there.
They finally come to Jeongguk’s piece.
Yoongi remembers reading it for the first time. He remembers the way his gut twisted as he read it, sighing over how Jeongguk's words would twist and curl across the page and bubble with heat and soul. He was lured in with vulnerability he could never permit for himself, and he drowned in the ecstasy of connection.
When two lungs become one.
Jeongguk was a talented writer, Yoongi knew that much. He wasn't sure if Jeongguk knew it himself.
He chooses not to stand at the front of the room when he introduces his piece, terrified of being under the watchful eyes of the class. He speaks softly, trying to hide the way his voice trembles like a leaf in the wind.
“I was researching different perspectives on erotica and how it came to be so taboo. It kind of hit hard and a little close to home, I guess. I really hate thinking about sex as it, but prefer to see it as more two people sharing a physical connection...”
He trails off uneasily, though it feels like Jeongguk is only reading page one of his disclaimer. It makes Yoongi think back to his ‘fine print’ note he wrote with the purpose of handing it off to whomever was stupid enough to date him:
Section 1.3. I will never love you the way you love me.
The class is silent when discussion opens for Jeongguk's piece. Yoongi can see the way Jeongguk’s lip trembles and it makes his guts clench. He scans the room and sees the tutor about to open her mouth and kickstart the discussion – something incredibly embarrassing for a writer in the class.
“Uh, I guess I can start off by saying I really liked it so far, Jeongguk-ssi,” Yoongi nervously begins. “I thought the way you explored intimacy and physical sensation through dreamscapes was really unique. Um... I guess my question is, would you consider writing about the different types of attraction?” Yoongi hates that he cannot think of much to say other than endlessly complimenting the piece.
Jeongguk seems stunned by his question, head tilted to the side, biting the insides of his mouth which makes his cheeks dimple.
“What do you mean by that?” He asks.
“Well, uh... stuff like emotional and sensual attraction. But still keeping the sort of erotic atmosphere?” Yoongi shrugs and shuts up quickly.
“I’m not sure I understand entirely, but I'll look into it, thank you, Yoongi-ssi.”
Finally, the attention is directed away from him and the class continues to discuss. Yoongi spends the rest of the time trying to cool down his red-hot cheeks from the prickling embarrassment that still festers beneath his skin.
Some of the class really rip into Jeongguk – not regarding his ability, no, it’s the subject matter they’re upset about. How dare he bring queer erotica into a classroom full of “straight Christian” students. The brightness and energy that surrounded Jeongguk before class has now completely vanished. His eyes seem to sink into his skin and his palms are red from rubbing and pulling at his fingers as a nervous habit. He accepts every criticism thrown his way even if it is obvious that beneath his skin, his muscles twitch at the opportunity to strike and make people question why this shit is even taboo in the first place.
Class ends abruptly and Jeongguk does not stick around to give the haters an opportunity to get under his skin without the “safety” of the classroom in play. Yoongi trails close behind Jeongguk, wringing his hands together, both mortified at what the class had to say, but also begging himself to have the courage to ask Jeongguk something.
They leave quickly enough to be the only people from the class in the elevator. Jeongguk is silent and his eyes bore holes into his fuzzy reflection in the elevator's metal door. Yoongi's breath keeps getting stuck in his throat as he chickens out of saying something to Jeongguk.
“Thank you for having my back,” he says to no one in particular. When Yoongi looks up at him, he turns to meet his gaze. They’re far too close together for it not to be intimate, but neither of them back down.
“I wish I could have said more.”
“I don’t think it was safe for you to do so,” Jeongguk replies tiredly. “God, wait until I bring in gay, trans erotica for my next workshop.” He laughs wryly and rolls his eyes.
Yoongi’s mind doesn't move on from that sentence quick enough and suddenly the elevator doors are opening and Jeongguk is swiftly walking out. He jogs a little to catch up to him, finally ready to blurt out his question.
“Are you doing anything after this?”
“Not really. Just waiting for 5 o'clock I guess.” The corner of Jeongguk’s mouth twitches at his joke.
“Do you want to get coffee with me?” Yoongi finally asks, feeling like a weight has lifted from his chest.
“Uh, sure.”
Yoongi isn’t sure why Jeongguk hesitates. Maybe because it is weird to need clarification over some weird social subtext that everyone else seems to understand. Coffee can mean 'let's be friends' or 'this might be a date'. Yoongi smiles nervously and rocks back and forth on his heels.
"We can go to the cafe on campus and sit on the lawn?" He suggests.
"Sounds like a plan."
They end up sprawled across the green grass of the lawn, basking in the gentle warmth of the sun. It's late spring, so the blossoms on the trees are gone and small green leaves and buds dot across the branches. Yoongi has a plain black coffee and Jeongguk sips on an iced mocha. They talk like old friends seeing each other for the first time in years. There seems to be this unspoken trust in one another, quickly agreeing to ditch formalities and briefly hint at their own trauma.
It's safety. The feeling of finally not having to watch what comes out of your mouth at all times. Not having to worry about judgemental stares of being randomly attacked by strangers. Yoongi can finally breathe.
"Did you hate high school?" Jeongguk asks, his voice is strained.
"Yeah, but it was so long ago."
"I forgot you've already been through one degree already," he laughs nervously.
"High school was shit. Depression and anxiety fucked everything up more than it was already fucked up before. Going through my first degree was a fucking nightmare. I'm a lot happier now at least," Yoongi surmises, voice drawling with the weight of his misfortunes. "What about you?"
Jeongguk bites his lip as he looks out over the lawn. He glances briefly at Yoongi, forehead creased with worry.
"I almost didn't make it through high school to be completely honest with you. But, like you, I'm much happier now."
Yoongi timidly reaches across the space between them and lightly places his fingers on Jeongguk's knee, begging himself to maintain eye contact with the boy in front of him.
"I'm glad you're still here."
🩰 🎀🩰
Yoongi's package arrives just over a week later. His heart jumps when he feels the soft package in his mailbox, and he runs to his apartment as quickly as he can. Once inside he opens it and comes face to face with the most daunting purchase he has ever made in his life.
The colours are only slightly different from what he remembers, but lord, they are soft. He throws them straight into the washing machine with whatever dirty clothes he can find strewn around his tiny apartment. He's going to have to wait hours to wear them because he doesn't have a dryer and it's too warm to turn the heating on.
In the meantime, he uses his newfound energy to message Jeongguk. He doesn't tell him even though the excitement builds up in his body, swelling to the point of near explosion, threatening to pop if he doesn't just tell someone.
Jeongguk is working on another writing piece, unrelated to the piece he submitted to be workshopped. It's about a boy who has lived underground all his life and the first time he sees the sun; the sun god comes down to greet him. The sun god gifts the boy a yellow canary to take home with him as a reminder of the world above him.
Yoongi likes the way Jeongguk's mind works.
They wander through conversation topics. It reminds Yoongi of a poem he once wrote about two faceless people gently touching one another, wanting to be close but never wanting more. A binary system orbiting closer to one another but never colliding.
Yoongi sighs. He doesn't dare think of them as anything more.
The moment he feels the lace on his skin, goosebumps creep up Yoongi's arms. He stares at his reflection, utterly gobsmacked, almost unable to recognise his own body. His skin looks beautiful next to the soft pink lace and his heart pounds as he takes in the way his cock almost doesn't fit in the front of the underwear. The little bralette is almost his favourite part. It feels so odd to have such thin fabric over his nipples. They feel covered but still harden at the cool air.
He looks so pretty.
He wants to take a photo.
It's something he has never done before, nor ever had the interest in. Even in all his absolute train wrecks of past relationships, he had never wanted to send his partner suggestive photos. If he did that it would mean he would have to follow up with it – and that's something he has never wanted to do. But he's single now and has been for a long time. Happily, he might add.
He retrieves his phone from his bed and opens the camera app. It takes him a while to find a good angle for his mirror selfie and he is careful not to get his face in it. He sucks in his stomach because all the pretty boys on the accounts he follows have such nice stomachs.
The picture turns out nice, not as good as he had hoped it would, but that's what he gets for having a shitty phone and shitty lighting in his tiny apartment. He sprawls himself across his bed and takes a few more, liking the way his hip bones are more defined when he lays on his back.
Ten minutes later, he has about twenty-five different photos of himself in various positions and at various angles, some showed the barest hint of the head of his cock peeking out from the fabric. It feels odd swiping through them, and he deletes almost half of them, feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment. His guts feel like a swirling cocktail of shame and rebellion, fizzing and bubbling as they mix and separate.
It almost feels like a shame that these nice pictures of himself will never see the light of day. The forbidden idea crawls from the pit of Yoongi's stomach like the shadow of a spider until it reaches the forefront of his mind.
He could just post the pictures to his Twitter...
He doesn't have any followers he knows personally or well, and all he follows is a bunch of amateur porn accounts and pretty boys who wear cute lingerie. He could just post his pictures and disappear, knowing that they're going to be out there, and no one will know who he is. It'll just join the endless stream of spicy internet photos and get lost in 24 hours.
His stomach tingles at the thought of finally breaking his own rules and he doesn't allow himself to think of the consequences and talk himself out of it. The best three photos from the lot make it into his post. He hesitates for a good five minutes as he tries to think of a caption.
He settles on i feel pretty and tosses his phone across the room.
🩰 🎀🩰
Yoongi is horrified when he comes back to his phone to find the badge on the twitter icon reads 273.
What has he done?
🩰 🎀🩰
Jeongguk's hair is curly today. He seems rather distracted today as they sit on the lawn in the sun. It's a little warmer today than the last time they got coffee after class, but Yoongi is glad they've made it a thing now. Jeongguk squints critically, staring off into the distance, making the silence between them somewhat tense.
"Your hair looks really nice today, Jeongguk-ah," Yoongi compliments softly. It seems to disarm Jeongguk, and he stares at Yoongi, wide eyed and mouth agape just a little.
"Thanks, hyung." His words are sincere. "I got it permed a few days ago actually. I kind of hated it for a little bit, but I think it's kind of settling down nicely. I was honestly worried it'd make me look more like a girl," he sighs.
"What would be wrong with that?" Yoongi shrugs and takes a long sip from his coffee. From the corner of his eye, he can see Jeongguk's cheeks flush red with horror.
"Nothing. It's just not my preference."
Yoongi is satisfied with his response.
"Will you tell me about the piece you're writing for class?"
In a way Yoongi was expecting Jeongguk to ask at some point. He had been content with keeping Jeongguk as the one answering the questions and going on long spiels about his writing. It felt like a sudden flip of their dynamic.
"Uh, sure. If you really wanna hear about it. It's nothing special."
"It's special because you're writing it, hyung." Jeongguk's words flitter through the air like petals in the breeze and land in Yoongi's chest. Warmth blooms in his chest and the door that remained shut for far too long finally opens on squeaking hinges.
"It's mixed form. Poetry and prose. I dunno why I do it, but it always feels like there's some things you just can't express in words, so poetry is like charades for that."
Jeongguk's eyes widen with wonder glistening across the surface. They're like beautiful black holes that suck up every single word Yoongi says and holds onto them in the inescapable pull of crushing gravity.
"I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with the plot at the moment but it's about dying, I guess. A man dies young and then he sees his entire life laid out before him in the fourth dimension. The story just kind of wanders from moment to moment in a non-linear fashion." Yoongi trails off as he continues to pick at the blades of grass, staining his fingers green and releasing the scent of cut grass into the air. It permeates between them as they simmer in Yoongi's words.
"Hyung..." Jeongguk is speechless. His eyes dart around like he is searching for words. "That's so incredible. I can't wait to read it when you're done – even if you want to share a draft or snippet, I'd love to see what you do with it."
Yoongi feels his cheeks heat. He loves the way Jeongguk is looking at him. Like he would walk through a thousand different lives, just to be able to witness Yoongi once.
There is silence between them. It's comfortable and the breeze tousles their hair.
"I like hanging out with you a lot," Jeongguk says.
"I like hanging out with you a lot too."
They stand on opposite sides of the great abyss between them, not daring to take the plunge.
🩰 🎀🩰
Yoongi's account is doing well. He adds photos of himself in his pretty lace daisy lingerie sets every couple of days and some people even send him tips so he can afford to buy a new set of lingerie and post even more photos. He gains lots of followers every time he posts, even some of his favourite accounts have followed him back. The main thing Yoongi has learnt from this experience is that people are horny.
The only thing that bothers him are some of the comments people leave on his pictures. Sure, it drives him mad that dozens of private accounts leave comments he can't see and it makes him worry that they're calling him ugly behind his back. But the weirdest thing is how some of the dirty comments make him feel.
you're so pretty, look at you baby, so gorgeous, such a good boy.
He likes those ones. Simple praise is sometimes the easiest way to his heart. The ones he doesn't like are the ones that call him sexy or are from weird men who feel the need to tell him what they want to do to him.
The thing is, he doesn't want to be thought of in that way. He doesn't wear lingerie and post pretty pictures of himself for that reason. Why does everyone seem to automatically think he does it because he wants sex? That's the last thing he wants.
He deletes all his posts and then reposts them with the comments turned off and a note asking for no quote retweets. It's Twitter. No one is going to respect his rule but at least it gives him ample reason to block weirdos.
His body feels tense and pent up after going through all of that. He needs to find some release.
Luckily one of his favourite accounts recently released a series of snippets from his newest full-length video. Yoongi always likes watching this guy, he always takes such good care of the guys who bottom for him. If Yoongi were into having sex, he'd want it to be with a guy like that. A guy who's built, but still has a softness to his body, a guy who is good at what he does and drives whoever he's fucking absolutely crazy. A guy who is essentially faceless to him.
The mere image of being fucked well is enough for Yoongi. He sighs blissfully with satisfaction and feels his body relax into the sheets. The forbidden fruit he doesn't even want to taste.
He gets the videos up on his phone and watches with great interest, fascinated by the way the guy knows exactly how to move his hips to make the bottom shake. It's nice watching two faceless people fuck and feel good. His hand slowly trails down his lower abdomen until his fingers peek beneath the hem of his sweats.
He sighs as his fingers wrap around the head of his cock. He rubs at the head in short, careful strokes, just enough for him to get worked up from the tingling feeling that simmers in his gut, twisting into a knot that feels so deliciously good the tighter it winds. Yoongi imagines it's him getting fucked, it's him doing the fucking. He quickly switches to the next video but feels the knot in his stomach somewhat loosen.
He watches the rest of the short videos, mind wandering in and out of awareness until halfway through the last one, he gets bored. Every single good feeling he is having, goes away in the blink of an eye. The breath he had been holding in for well over a minute hisses through his nostrils and he deflates on the bed, crumpling like an air mattress with a great big hole in it.
There is no disappointment that comes with this feeling. It's just the way it goes a lot of the time. Feeling good and then getting bored. His eyelids feel heavy, and his body feels warm and lax. He buries himself under the covers and falls asleep feeling lighter than he had felt before.
🩰 🎀🩰
This isn't the first time Jeongguk has invited Yoongi to come hang out with his friends from other classes. Taehyung was Jeongguk's friend in high school and the two of them had met Jimin in a first year Arts general class called Power. The three of them had been inseparable since.
Taehyung was quieter than Jeongguk, in a sense. It was like Jeongguk was a stormy sea and he was the calm ripple of a lake. Yoongi liked that about him and fell into his gravity easily. He was easy to be around, gentle as early autumn and kind as an angel's kiss. He was a literature major who loved to read poetry in all its forms. He spoke highly of the single glimpse he was allowed into Yoongi's poetry. Though it was embarrassing, Yoongi couldn't do anything but forgive him.
Jimin on the other hand was like a light switch. One moment he is loud and giggly, incredibly physically affectionate and the next moment he was quiet and reflective. He always had a lot to say about the image of masculinity and deconstruction of gender. Yoongi listened gladly, holding onto every word that came out of Jimin's mouth. He was doing gender studies along with psychology.
Yoongi liked seeing Jeongguk with his friends. He was always relaxed around them, happy to be his true self. At first, he felt like a complete outsider to their group, but he was welcomed with open arms. It only took a until now for all reservations to be cast aside now that Yoongi had melted into their trio.
"God damn it, did I tell you guys about that girl I hooked up with over the weekend?" Jimin says, mouth half stuffed with yangnyeom chicken. They're on the lawn again, this time, having a late afternoon meal of fried chicken with chicken mu and potato gems.
"No, you didn't," Jeongguk says, skewering a potato gem.
"Is this you still trying to get over that guy who fuckin' milked you dry over a weekend?" Taehyung sneers with his mouth full.
"Shut up, Taehyung!" Jimin growls and smacks Taehyung's chest with the back of his hand.
"Anyway! She texted me and says she wants to see me again on the weekend and she wants me to cook jajangmyeon for her too. Guess I got good stroke game?" Jimin snickers. It's all playful, everyone knows he's not bragging, he just wants to rile the boys up.
"Jimin, that's disgusting," Jeongguk laughs, covering his mouth as he does so.
"Says you," Jimin shoots back. "You never fucking shut up about how horny you are."
Yoongi laughs under his breath. The banter is certainly entertaining, just not something he'd ever take part in.
"Oh, come on, you can't blame poor, single me and my raging hormones," Jeongguk whines. "I'm about to have to start to bulk up my left arm."
"Oh my god." Yoongi cannot contain his laughter.
"Don't worry, JK, I feel you. I've gotta masturbate for like, a whole hour before I have any chance of getting to sleep," Taehyung admits, reaching across to pat Jeongguk on the shoulder.
"An hour?!" Yoongi shrieks.
"Yeah," Taehyung confirms shamelessly.
"How do you not get bored?" Yoongi hates that he lets it slip.
"Same way you don't get bored."
"Dude, I get bored after, like, five minutes." Yoongi has dug himself a hole. He does not dare look at Jeongguk to see his reaction. Everyone goes quiet for a moment, but Jimin opens his mouth to speak. Yoongi puts his hands up for a moment and shakes his head.
He doesn't want to get into it. He has embarrassed himself enough today.
🩰 🎀🩰
There was something about his sexuality that never sat right with Yoongi. He likes the way certain men look; he wants to be in a loving relationship with a man. But he doesn’t want it to be the way it is in the few queer books and movies he has seen and read in his life. Is he still gay if he doesn’t want to have sex but still enjoys thinking about it and watching other people do it?
It’s a particularly tough night for him tonight, questioning himself more than usual. He is exhausted from assignments and studying and thinking about how nice it would be to be able to lean his weight against Jeongguk’s body and for it not to have to mean anything.
It's past 3 in the morning and Yoongi's mind is still running circles from the essay he submitted at 11:58 pm. Now he's stuck doomscrolling on his main, mindlessly soaking up everything that is shit in the world. He has no desire whatsoever to engage with the nsfw community tonight. Recently he has been feeling less inclined than usual to consume content from that side of the internet. He's not sure if it's because he's got another depressive episode lurking over him or if it's just simply a weird circadian rhythm his body follows.
He is about to toss his phone aside and attempt to sleep off the splitting headache he has developed over the past few hours when a tweet catches his eye.
@GlasgowAce
Aegosexuality is a type of asexuality where a person may experience arousal in response to certain triggers as long as they are sufficiently removed from themselves.
It's like Yoongi's world stops spinning on its axis. His mind fizzles and his fingers scramble to open the thread.
Common experiences:
- Getting aroused by sexual content but not wanting to engage in sexual activities
- Fantasising about people with their faces blurred out, rather than people you know in real life
Yoongi drops his phone on his face and groans at the sharp pain.
No way.
This was him. This was his life in a Twitter thread. He was asexual? Aegosexual specifically. The back of his eyes begin to prickle and he clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle the sob that ripples through his throat and out of his mouth.
He had it wrong this whole time. Asexual people were actually allowed to enjoy sexual content. Why on earth hadn't someone told him sooner? Why the fuck had the media implied asexuals were all prudish people who never thought about sex with other people? He can hardly believe how wrong the media had it, how betrayed he felt, spending years of his life thinking he wasn't welcome in the asexual community because of the way he was.
Just a tiny little tweet was enough to tell him that he truly belonged in the asexual community. That he wasn't broken after all.