Summary: Your best friend of your near entire life has been a total asshat to you ever since you started to casually date which didn't seem super fair to you since he did the exact same thing and you were nothing but supportive! It just sucks that you two are growing apart over a coping mechanism that you adopted to distract yourself from your overwhelming crush on said idiot. If only he knew. Wait- did you say that OUT LOUD?
Rating: M (What isn't on this blog?)
Genre: Maybe a little angst? Smut for sure tho.
Warnings: Thongs, sex, lewd thoughts, erections, physical pushing, raw dogging, cream pie, mentions of giving head, a looooooottt of swearing, mentions of slut shaming. Oh right- oppa kink and little splashes of korean as well.
aya=expression to express pain equivalent to 'ow'
Author’s note: HI EVERYONE! We are somewhat back!! So sorry for the long wait for content. Things have been insane and we’ve been working on a much- much longer fic for this blog which will involve all of the boys! It’s a long story but this hit me like a truck yesterday and it was initially meant to be a reaction but I couldn’t stop writing… so it’s 7k and the other boys will get their own version of this prompt “best friend is jealous of the attention you give to guys” thing. Starting once again with the one and only Yoongi! Hope y’all enjoy:)
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“You know it’s funny, I don’t remember asking,” Yoongi said virulently, his attention centered solely on his phone as he scrolled through instagram... or twitter... or maybe it was tinder. Your heart sank. You had been excited that this guy- Woojin- had given you attention. He was good looking by a lot of standards and it had boosted your confidence significantly. Of course, you wanted to share that excitement with your best friend. Rejecting someone that good looking always made you feel really powerful and attractive but you had barely shown him Woojin’s picture and commented on how attractive he was before your so called best friend had brushed you off and went back to his solitude and avoidance.
You had noticed that something was off for a while now but hadn’t commented on anything to avoid any conflicts but this was ridiculous. You had constantly listened to the stories of how girls would trickle in like water for him. He seemed to be going out with someone new every two weeks.
It wasn’t fair that you had to put up with his annoying descriptions of how beautiful these girls were while you sat and gave him your undivided attention as your heart slowly chipped and broke with each new conquest of his. Especially when each girl was so different from who you were. At first, you thought that maybe you were annoyed by this simply because it was hurtful to think he didn’t at least think you were pretty. It wasn’t long after that that you realized that it hurt you when he went out with women who were your polar opposite because it meant that he would never date you.
This had been shocking in itself. You had known Yoongi for your entire life, or at least a good portion of it, and you had always seen him as a brother. Your oppa in the least sexual or boyfriend-y form possible, but when you looked at him now… he was looking a lot more like well- an oppa.
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. His words stung more than you would like to admit. Whenever Yoongi got this snippy, you liked to equal him in snip and double him in sass, never showing how vulnerable his disinterest made you feel, but this time, it felt like he had punched you in the chest with all his force and told you you were ugly to boot.
You didn’t want to cry in front of him either. He’d make fun of you. Last time you had cried, he’d awkwardly pat you on the head and quickly changed the very serious topic of your parents' relationship with yours to something totally different and not even a little relevant to helping you feel better. Given, that had been years ago and he’d never been very good at comforting you nor had he so much as expressed his support of you. Not since that one time when you had broken your wrist and he’d promptly pushed the girl who had been the culprit off the swing set thus getting himself suspended for a week and a half when you were both in elementary school.
But this… this was just cruel. It was ugly. It made you look at your “best friend” in a light that was not so shiny and pristine. He’d changed so much since then. He’d pulled away from you since then and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe you had and had just ignored it. Maybe you’d hoped if you didn’t mention it, that it would go away and he would come back full force with one of his dumb dances and pretty smiles. Maybe you hoped he’d realize soon what you had realized in your early twenties.
You loved him. And not the brotherly love that you had always had for him, no, you, Y/N, were very much in love with your best friend. Which made this whole situation so much worse.
When you said nothing, Yoongi briefly glanced up at you from his seemingly important phone conversation with most likely another of his soon to be dates only to look back down.
“What? Cat got your tongue? No snippy rebuttal? You’re not gonna chew me out for being mean to you again?”
His face was illuminated by the blue lights of his screen; he had it at the near darkest setting and his eyes were squinted to see it better. Something that had always annoyed you because you knew it was only hurting his vision.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. When that didn’t help, you cleared it, accidentally catching his attention. He clicked his phone off and looked over at you as if ready to argue but something in your face must have given away your inner turmoil because his hard features softened and his lips fell slightly open.
No. Of course you weren’t crying. You never cried. Not ever. But then your cheeks were wet and the onslaught of emotion seemed to burst. How far had you fallen for this indefinitely cold man that his sarcasm made you fall in hysterics? Far it seemed. Too far.
You angrily wiped the tears away from your burning skin and crossed your arms over your chest. The hoodie you had stolen from him earlier that day felt like sandpaper against your skin as opposed to the comfort you’d initially felt when slipping over your head and smelling the fresh scent of his cologne clinging to it.
You felt him shift on the couch to face you fully, out of the corner of your eye, you could see his features had turned worried, alarmed even but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him nor care. Too little too late.
The words hung in the still air like a wrong note played in a symphony. It made your head spin and ache.
You didn’t dare speak. It would only give away how truly hurt you were by his words and actions. You didn’t want to be around him anymore.
Abruptly, you stood up and yanked the hoodie from your body. The tank you had on pulled up slightly showing the skin of your belly. It was lopsided, you noted when you looked down and saw that one side was pulled over and under your bra and the other was too high on your chest but you didn’t really care.
Yoongi watched you with conflict evident in his eyes, if only you would turn to see. He hadn’t meant to offend you. He’d only been trying to keep you at arms length. You had also been going out with multiple guys, telling him how good looking and tall they all were. Most of these men were also built like rocks and he himself was toned at best. Contrary to what you thought, Yoongi had come to the realization that he’d been in love with you since you were kids. He did not tolerate when anyone made you feel like shit, and, being a very mature kid, he’d told his mother quite early on that he would marry you someday. Of course, she’d only chastised him and told him that he couldn’t possibly know what love was nor could he force you to marry him, but he was adamant.
He’d stopped telling her about it after that though, and instead of telling you how he felt, he’d opted instead to watch over you and make sure nothing happened. So when in high school, you had started to date and it had not been him whom you had chosen, he’d made sure to keep the sorry excuse of a man you had chosen in line. That was… until the incident.
Yoongi would never forgive himself for not being there. For not stopping the bastard who thought he owned you. He’d never forgive the idiot either and if you hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed him with his bare fists then stuffed his own socks in his mouth.
It was then that Yoongi realized that you deserved better than him, and at the same time, no one was worthy of you. It was a strange dynamic. He’d never once approved of your dates, but had decided to start dating other women because, let's face it, he was a guy and he’d like to have children someday but not even in his wildest dreams could he think that you would ever settle for him. Someone who’d failed you as your self imposed protector.
Not that you knew any of that. You didn’t know that Yoongi often teamed up with your other best friend, your girl best friend to scope out your dates once you’d left. You’d almost caught them once as well and it had been by pure luck and the hair of a very out of place clown that both of them had escaped your wrath that night. You also didn’t notice that after you had fully broken up with that first asshole, he’d threatened to beat him to a pulp if he so much as breathed in your direction once more and later, he’d threatened ‘asshole’ two and three with the same things.
But then your dates had gotten taller and stronger and much harder to intimidate. He’d once made the mistake of threatening a casual date that you’d set up who was at least a solid half foot taller than him and he’d been laughed out of the restaurant only to find out later that the jerk had forced a kiss on you.
No, Yoongi’s days as your protector had dwindled and left him feeling half of the man he’d already thought he was and so his only defense, his only way to keep you safe- though now that he was watching tears well in your eyes he wondered what logic he’d used to justify this behavior- was to be the asshole himself and teach you how to deal with them on a first hand basis.
He hated himself for making you cry. He hated that you looked so dejected and hurt and like you never wanted to speak another word to him again. He hated that your shoulders slumped and that your pretty eyelashes were coated in wet tears and it was all on him.
“You know what,” you finally managed to say with some semblance of calm under the storm that was brewing in the irises he’d so loved, “I think we’ve grown apart a little too much. Maybe we should just- cut our losses and,” you heaved a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm, “stop seeing each other.”
Were you breaking up with him? How were you even going to break up with him if you weren’t even dating? Yoongi’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He had tunnel vision. All he could see was you and the way that you seemed to pull yourself up from the ground, rebuilding before his eyes.
“Stop see-what? Are you demented?”
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Was that all he was capable of being? Wrong. Incorrect. Inexact. Erroneous. Mistaken. He was plain stupid for the words he’d let slip but there was no taking them back now.
You let your eyes widen as you wiped more of your furiously falling tears from your skin. You turned to face him, your shirt fixed and covering you exactly how it should and your features set and intentional.
“What’s the point? You clearly don’t want to be around me anymore and I’m tired of being berated every time I mention a guy. You’re the most unsupportive friend I have and that’s because I’ve known you the longest. If you don’t want to be my friend just say so instead of slut shaming me and bullying me every chance you get you asshat.”
“Asshat,” he chuckled, crossing his sleeve-covered arms over his toned chest, “real clever, Y/N. Is that all you got, kid? You never were one for words were you? Why don’t you just sock me instead?”
Oh you were considering it. He seemed so unbothered by the prospect of losing you that you realized maybe you had already lost him and hadn’t realized. You had dealt with your fair share of jerks in your life, but you had always counted on Yoongi to be your hope. He’d shown you that there were men in the world that seemed to care about women. Men who could love you even when you felt unlovable, unworthy, but here he was, proving to you once again that all men were the same evil and vile creatures, incapable of love or kindness if they weren’t getting their dicks wet.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Then you could go around saying that I’m a crazy bitch. You know what? Fuck you Min Yoongi. I hope you get well and royally fucked.” You yelled, grabbing the tote bag you’d brought over from your apartment and stomping to the door.
“Fuck you too,” he yelled, following you to the door. He caught you at the landing strip, prying on your chunky sneakers with a bit of difficulty, your house slippers, the ones he’d bought you, lay haphazardly nearby.
“And fuck all of those asshole guys you keep bringing home. Better yet, I hope you don’t fuck them.”
You turned your head up to look at him, confusion and disgust written all over your face.
“What the fuck do my dates had to do with what a fucking jerk you are?”
Choosing to ignore your question, he focused instead on your insult, “A jerk, am I? Well you’re a bitch. How do you like that?”
He didn’t know why he was insulting you. He didn’t think you were actually a bitch, but the anger on your face made him feel better.
It was followed by near instant regret as you drew yourself up to your full height and looked at him with pure venom in your gaze.
“Yeah,” he breathed, trying to keep his shoulders square, but you were scary when angry and he’d never fared well in fights with you.
You balled your fists at your sides, your eyebrows connected in the center and your breathing was heavy. He knew better than to use the B-word.
“You’re a piece of shit.” It was low but your voice carried and hit all of the bones in his body before it hit his heart and burrowed deep in the wounds he’d stitched up but pulled open multiple times over the years that pertain only to you.
“You are a sorry excuse of a man,” you growled, pushing him by the chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noted that it felt really firm and stronger than before.
“You’re an ass, Min Yoongi,” you continued, giving him another push so that he stumbled slightly back into the living room of his apartment once again.
“You low life,” another push, closer to the couch, “weak minded,” you shoved him, he sidestepped the glass coffee table where your untouched coffee mugs still rested, probably cold by now, “son of a bitch, fucking baby, involved sorry excuse of a man-” He fell onto the cough. Your vision was red.
“You already used that insult.” Was all he said as you stood over him, your chest heaved with the exertion of trying to keep yourself from slapping the now blank expression from his face.
A slew of incomprehensible noises escaped from your lips as words completely left your brain. Damn him. Damn this idiot of a man that you were in love with. He could go to hell for all you cared and you hoped that the devil himself ripped his testicles off and served them on a platter with some kimchi and fried rice.
“Okay first of all- ow,” The asshole said, pulling you back to reality and not your fictitious rework where Yoongi was now sitting at the end of a long table being force fed his own balls, “And second…”
You held your breath. Fear ran down your spine. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud-
“You-you’re in love with me?”
Well… he got his wish, you were royally fucked. Instantly, you tried to back track. Your mind kept replaying in your head what you had said and tried to correct itself but you couldn’t think of anything that could possibly absolve you.
“Like a brother,” you said finally, your voice shaky and thin.
Yoongi only blinked up at you. What you said was bullshit and he knew it. You knew it too.
“You’re in love with me… like a brother?”
“Oppa,” you clarified as if that would somehow make more sense, and it did kind of, but it didn’t absolve you at all. In fact, this only made a smile tug at his lips, his pearly teeth suddenly on display, blinding. You fought the smile that threatened to pull at yours too. It was always hard because his smile was so contagious.
Yoongi stood. He was less than an inch away from your own body. You felt small, meek. You’d misstepped this big game of chess you seemed to be playing. He was going to make fun of you. He’d never let you live it down. You liked him.
“You like me,” as if he had read your mind, he echoed your thoughts, or maybe you had spoken that out loud as well.
“No I don’t,” you argued, taking a step back just so you could have some space to breathe.
“Oh yeah you do,” Yoongi argued, his smile so wide you were sure it would hurt the muscles in his cheeks
“No,” you said again, not really thinking anything you said at this point would convince him otherwise. The son of a bitch was stubborn.
“Admit it,” he said, closing the distance between you again, his neck craned down to look directly at your face.
“I don’t like you!” You tried to take another step back but the coffee table knocked your feet out from under you. You fell onto it knocking Yoongi’s mug of coffee over. The black decaf liquid seeped into your shorts.
Yoongi’s rusty laugh was pried from his throat as he watched your face contort. He was having the time of his life, it seemed. Good for him.
“Stop laughing at me,” you groaned, your cheeks red. You were practically sweating from how feverish you felt.
It was like you hadn’t spoken. Your shorts were wet and made you feel sticky. In a fit of anger, like a child throwing a tantrum, you unbuttoned the denim and ripped them from your legs. This shut Yoongi up instantly. With the soiled fabric, you cleaned up the liquid before it fell onto the light grey carpet.
Yoongi stilled as his eyes traveled up and down your long legs.The way you were twisting, he could see the back of your left thigh up to where it met your ass- your bare ass. You were wearing a thong.
God help him, he was rapidly getting hard. He forced his eyes away from you, his walls being pulled back up at seeing you naked. Well partially so. He pushed his hands into his oversized hoodie and made sure that it covered his front. The last thing he needed was for you to see.
But then you turned and pulled your legs together, your thighs squishing attractively. What he wouldn’t give to be choked by those thighs.
“Let me wash those for you,” he said tightly, pulling a hand from his hoodie to take the soiled shorts, the hem of the fabric pulled up enough for you to see exactly what he’d been trying to hide.
Yoongi had a hard on. You weren’t sure why exactly you were surprised. You were attractive, that much you knew, but you never really expected for your best friend to see you in that way. In fact, you were pretty sure that you’d been in your underwear in front of him before and he hadn’t even given you a second glance, but there was the evidence. And God was there a lot of evidence.
Slowly, you handed him the shorts. His hand grabbed them tightly, avoiding touching any part of your hand with his. Then, after a slight pause, he turned on his heels and walked towards the kitchen to put the shorts into the washer.
You’d called him oppa. You rarely called him oppa and it had hypersensitized him to the word coming from your lips. Other girls called him oppa sometimes and it had no effect on him but there he was, stiff as a board and it had something to do with you calling him oppa and your state of undress. Fuck. He was fucked. So fucked.
At least he wished he could be… But no. He pushed those thoughts from his head as he threw in some nice scented soaps into the wash and clicked it to life. He shut his eyes, trying to think of anything that would drain the blood from his member- halmeoni maybe?- but your voluptuous ass kept intruding, giving his halmeoni some nice curves that messed with her wrinkled face. He shook his head once more and decided he’d just have to hide his boner until it went away, or go beat one out in the restroom really quick.
He grabbed a pair of his clean sweat pants from the drying rack to give to you, just so you would be comfortable, he told himself, not because the thought of your naked butt in them made him unspeakably horny.
But when he got back to the living room, what he found was not you, covering yourself with a pillow like he’d expected, but you, only in your thong- fuck did it have to be a thong?- and your bra. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen.
“Fuck me,” he groaned, burring his head in his hands and turning away from you.
“I mean, if you ask nicely enough that can be arranged,” you answered rather boldly. There was no way for him to know that you were quaking in fear for his rejection.
Yoongi’s dick twitched in his sweats.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said under his breath as his heart beat faster. He felt like he was having a whole heart attack. He patted his chest, hoping to calm it down knowing it was useless.
Should he go for it? You had just admitted accidentally that you did have feelings for him and you were clearly propositioning him. Should he just-
He turned around, back to face you, determination paining his expression. Still on the coffee table, your legs were spread open, only covered by the thin sliver of fabric that your thong allotted. You were a little cold, but all of that melted away when you saw the way that Yoongi’s eyes roamed your exposed body, then stopped abruptly to meet your own.
He was in front of you in seconds, his longer legs carried him farther and faster than you had anticipated. Then he was pulling you to stand. You wobbled on your legs but one of his arms found its way around your waist. His free hand came up and held your jaw with two fingers on either side of your face, squishing your lips together slightly. His hot, heavy member pressed against your stomach through his sweats. He was so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath and the fading smell of his cologne you loved so much. All you wanted was to grind against him but you were held too tightly.
“You never know when to shut up do you?” But he didn’t let you answer. He crashed his soft lips onto yours, his hold on your jaw ached but you didn’t care. There was a passion in his kiss that you hadn’t expected, subtly dwindling to something more like tenderness, and the kiss continued. His lips dragged against yours delicately, pinching your top one with both of his. Small breaths came out of his nose, whistling softly against your cheek. You timed your breaths with his, high on the feeling of finally being kissed, coveted by him. Was it real? Was this actually happening?
Your brain suddenly caught up with your body. The rightness that came with the way he was kissing you, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he needed you to properly breathe, was like nothing you could have imagined.
The hand on your waist was drawing small circles where the elastic of your thong rested, his index finger casually hooked onto and under pulling lightly. You pressed yourself tighter than he had you against his erection. He groaned, his mouth opening and his tongue suddenly darting out to taste. He pulled your jaw open, granting himself entrance and exploring your mouth.
You moaned, a sound so sensuous and wanton that Yoongi felt that he could cum just from those sounds alone. He wanted more. He wanted you to sing his praises as he fucked into you and caressed your chest. He wanted you to drool around his cock and to have your sweet mouth wrapped tight around it. He wanted to feel you gag at his girth and he wanted to pull at your hair. But most of all, he wanted to kiss you, just like how he was at that moment. He wanted to kiss you until he’d taken your soul from your body and replaced it with his own. He wanted to kiss you until he could erase every trace of all of the men who’d hurt you and made you doubt that you were worthy and wanted. Yoongi wanted to kiss his love into you no matter how long he had to do it. If he was locked in a room with you for months, so be it.
But your hand had found its way between your bodies and was slowly coming down to his hips. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing and panicked. He hadn’t gotten your consent. He hadn’t asked you if it was okay for him to kiss you or to hook his fingers on your thong. As stupid as it sounded, even to Yoongi himself, he needed to make sure that you wanted this to happen, even as your hand had found the outline of his cock and you had started to trace the outline of it over the fabric-
“Tell me to stop,” he gasped, ripping himself away from you. The hand around your waist was now on your shoulder to keep you at enough distance so that his brain could function and wasn’t clouded by the horniness he was feeling.
“Wha…?” You slurred, your eyes were glazed over and your body was completely relaxed.
“Tell me to stop,” he repeated, fighting his every instinct to push your mouth open and have you suck on his thumb before he pushed you onto your knees to suck him off, “and I will.”
His eyelids were heavy and he was sweating slightly. He was so hard that it hurt and the circles you were drawing on his penis were not helping at keeping him at bay. He knew if he looked down, there would be a stain of precum on his sweats.
“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, leaning in and kissing his jaw before you nibbled and kissed down his taught neck.
“I want you to fuck me.” You licked a thick swipe up his jugular, “I want you.”
“Then admit it,” Yoongi heard himself say. He was just as surprised as you were to hear those words from his lips, “admit that you like me.”
You pulled away then, dropping both your arms in exasperation, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m in my underwear, stroking your cock and you want me to stroke your ego too? Un-fucking-believeable. You’re a dumb ass.”
You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead.
“Aya, apa~” he groaned, rubbing his head, the dynamic that you were used to suddenly restored.
“Yeah? Great! I’m glad that it hurt! I hope it hurts really bad you jerk. Then maybe you’ll understand what it was like for me to listen to you go on and on about all the girls you went out with every fucking week. In fact-”
“Aya! What the fuck? Stop flicking me,” he nearly screamed, clutching the tip of his nose.
Big mistake. Yoongi didn’t take your dare lightly. His eyes darkened then he leaned down and picked you up. You squeaked, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked you to his room. His hands cupped your butt fairly comfortably, like this was something you did often. He kicked the door open and threw you on the bed.
“You think I wasn’t hurt as well?” He asked, clasping a hand around your neck and lightly pressing his fingers against your skin.
“You think I like knowing that everywhere we go, men are watching you, coveting you the way I do? You think it isn’t torture when you go out and I don’t hear from you until the next day?”
He pushed you up against his pillow. The duvet was already all messed up under your body. He was between your legs, pressing himself into your core. Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him all the way inside you. He wanted nothing more than to do the same but he had to make sure you knew first.
“You think it was easy being in love with you when you wanted nothing from me but friendship?”
Your eyes softened. Yoongi was in love with you too? When?
“Since we were kids,” he answered. Again you had spoken without meaning to. “I always knew it was you, Y/N. It was only ever you.”
But something wasn’t adding up. You fought your rising feelings of elation. You wanted to understand what he was saying. If he had liked you since you were kids then why had he never asked you out? Why become the serial dater he’d become? But he’d never had a girlfriend, you reminded yourself. He’d only ever “dated” and then dropped these women. You always assumed he was screwing them all.
Yoongi became sheepish then. “I uh… I did have sex with some of them but-” and the hurt in your eyes would be enough to kill him,” it was only at the start. I thought that if i had sex with other people I’d stop chasing after you. But it didn’t work… I haven’t slept with anyone since junior year of college.”
Your eyes widened. “College?”
He nodded, his pale cheeks blushing prettily.
“They just...were never you… and then I thought if I pushed you away that would help but that only made us estranged and-”
You pushed yourself up and shut him up with a kiss. He was over thinking and you could talk about all that later.
“You’re an idiot,” you started and he rolled his eyes, “but if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to do it myself.”
Yoongi’s eyes rolled into his head and he thrust lightly into your wet center.
“As long as you want,” you agreed, already pushing at his sweats. Yoongi sat up and pulled his hoodie and shirt off in one fell swoop, then, at the speed of lightning, pulled off his sweats, leaving him in his boxers.
After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his boxers off as well and then he was naked before you. Your mouth went dry. He was big. You could tell just by looking at him that he would stretch you good and you wanted so badly for him to pin you down and have his way with you.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
“Really? Cause that would be really helpful on days when I’m home alone-”
You chuckled and lay down on your back, making sure that your legs were spread wide for him to have his fill. Like a moth to a flame, he was between your thighs, his tongue licking at the wet fabric.
He moaned against your covered lips, sucking up the arousal that clung to your underwear.
“Fuck, Yoongi yes,” you said without meaning to say much at all. You unclasped your bra and threw it somewhere in the room. You could look for it later. This caught his attention. He thrust his naked dick into the mattress, needing some sort of stimulation.
“Damn it… fuck, if I wasn’t so desperate to be inside you, I swear I could get you off with just my mouth all day, Y/N.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you waved off, gesturing for him to come up to your face, he did so without question, “Hurry up, I’m dying. Please.”
“Are you begging?” Yoongi’s lips curled lightly, teasingly,
“Do you want to get your dick wet or not?” He kissed the wrinkle between your eyebrows lightly.
“Yeah, can I take these off?” he hooked a finger on the elastic of your thong, pulling it a little higher than he probably should have. It was an old pair. You heard rather than saw the stitching on it pull apart and then the thing was hanging limply from Yoongi’s fingers, his expression shocked.
“What? I didn’t do it on purpose!”
“For fuck’s sake! That was my favorite thong!”
“Well, clearly it was cheap,” he countered, throwing it across the room somewhere too.
You groaned, shifting slightly under him. His dick nuzzled between your wet lips. His mouth dropped open and a pleasured grunt escaped his lips.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he rut against your wetness, hitting your clit lightly, far too lightly, “you are so wet. God, this should be illegal.”
“Y-Yoongi… more,” he reached down between you two and found your sensitive nub without much hassle. It was like he knew your body already. Your body twitched under him and he circled the bundle of nerves for a couple of seconds. The noises falling from your lips were heaven on earth and Yoongi realized you were his new favorite song.
He gave your clit one rough stroke, ripping a small gasp from your throat. He gathered some of your slick with two practiced fingers and brought it up to eye level. It caught the low light of his room from the window, the smell enough to threaten to send him over the edge.
“Jesus Christ that’s hot.” Then he smeared it all over his penis and gave himself two rough pumps.
“You don’t even know what I’m asking-”
“Don’t care. Just do it. Yes.” You said angrily, pulling him closer and closer, his toned chest flush against yours.
“Have you been working out?” You asked, breaking the intense way he was staring into your eyes, his smile pulled wide over his gums.
He shrugged but clearly was glad that you’d noticed, “Namjoon and Jungkook convinced me to join them in the gym. It’s no big deal.”
“But your arms,” you complimented, squeezing his bicep. He flexed it lightly for you. You blushed when you realized exactly what you were doing.
“It’s just a little muscle,” he commented offhandedly.
The conversation lulled, he smiled down at you, and you up at him. He kissed the tip of your nose.
Yoongi laughed loudly, “see this is why you can’t say yes to something without knowing what you’re agreeing to.”
“Shut up and put it in the right hole,” you groaned, then for good measure, “oppa.” It was a joke. You thought it was a joke, but something lit up in his pupils as two measly syllables rolled off your tongue and hit his eardrums. You felt his skin prickle under your touch and his member twitched against your folds.
Like a deer caught in headlights, you looked up at the handsome man. His eyes had narrowed as well as darkened. He looked absolutely ravenous and you wanted him to eat you up.
“Say that again.” He commanded as he pushed the head of his massive, and now that you could properly feel it, you knew that you had been right, cock at the entrance of your lower lips.
“O-oppa?” you questioned, astounded that the simple word that he’d no doubt heard his whole life had this effect on him.
“That’s right yeo-chin,” he growled, his voice gruff and harsh as he pushed lightly into you. His dick opened you painfully, perfectly.
“Yeo-chin?” You ask through the explosion of pleasure between your thighs.
“Is that okay?” He asked, suddenly looking really vulnerable and scared. You reached up, stroking his cheek lightly with your knuckles.
“Oh honey,” you trailed off, bumping his nose against yours before you pulled back abruptly, “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to ask me properly.”
Yoongi sighed, his smile telling you he expected as much and wasn’t hurt, “Talk after?” He asked again.
“As much as you want,” you reiterated.
And then he was pushing into you once again, surprising you because you could have sworn you had been full before but inch after inch, he pushed into your awaiting hole, filling all the emptiness you’d felt your whole life until his balls tapped your ass softly.
His face was contorted in pure ecstasy. At least from your perspective. Yoongi, in all truth, was trying his hardest not to blow his load into you already. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was inside you. He’d waited his whole life for this and he was finally inside you.
You wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and playfully licked his lips. He grunted against you, holding himself up by the forearms. Suddenly, he was really grateful that he had started to work out and that Jungkook had him doing three minute planks for fun. He’d have to thank him later, even if he did complain a whole lot.
“Can-can I move?” Yoongi gasped. Your walls fluttered around his member as if welcoming it home with soft caresses. You were so warm, maybe hot, he wasn’t sure, but you were tight and wet and all the good things in the world.
You only breathed, feeling so unbelievably full. It felt like he had pushed in all the way to your throat. You were no size queen, really, you weren’t, but if this is what they were going on about, you understood.
“Y/N,” he panted, his body begging him to move, “please.”
“Are-are you begging?” You giggled mirroring what he’d asked you before.
“Yes.” Without hesitation, he admitted, “Please… please…”
Well fuck. How could you say no? You nodded fervently, all mirth erased from your expression as he pulled out slowly, your juices squelched as your lower muscles tried to keep him in.
“Gah- ash-Y/N… you’re so tight.”
You only moaned in response, the head of his cock was still in you, stretching you to the point you didn’t think anyone could fully make you feel this way again.
“You’re so big,” you complimented scratching at his back. His muscles rippled under your touch.
He pushed back in, still torturously slow. It felt like you were being split in half. You felt like Olaf in the first frozen movie after he got stabbed by an icicle.
“Yoongi,” you gasped as he pulled out again at the same speed, his face screwed up in concentration.
“Oppa,” he growled into your ear, kissing roughly at your skin.
“Oppa,” you agreed, though it wasn’t your favorite word, he seemed to be getting of fairly
well so you let it slide, “move faster.”
You nodded, knowing it was probably going to hurt but you wanted to feel him and you wanted him to cum.
He didn’t need to be told again; he drew back, once again leaving only the mushroom tip inside you once again, and then he thrust. Hard. You nearly choked as he pumped himself over and over again hitting the nerves in your vagina. The slap of skin against yours was loud in the empty room, only accompanied by your moans and his pants and grunts. Your names mixed in every once in a while, your lips kissing any and all the skin that you could possibly reach. He licked at your lips and sucked bruises onto your neck, your chest. He wanted to mark all of you. He wanted to make sure you knew who you belonged to… as soon as he asked you right after he finished up.
This idea itself spurred him on, to thrust faster, deeper. He wanted to finish and make sure that you finished too, not quickly but soon. He wanted to talk. He wanted to make sure that you were in the same place.
So he reached between you both again, his fingers blindly found your clitoris and began to rub abstract shapes into it. Your back arched off the bed, your hair and boobs bounced with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. You were seeing white, your mouth wide open in a silent ‘o’. You were so close. So so close.
“Come, Yeo-chin,” he whispered against your temple, and though you weren’t technically his, the title sent you over the edge along with his fingers and the deep thrusts that hit your cervix.
“Oppa,” you groaned, your face screwed up.
That did it for Yoongi. His fingers on your clit stuttered along with his hips. His thrusts became erratic and he hit the sides of your walls. You squeezed around him as he over stimulated you through your orgasm.
“One more time… say it one more time,” he begged.
You complied, whispering it into his ear, it was cut slightly by a particularly pleasurable thrust. Yoongi felt pure euphoria fill his blood as his hips paused, then buried deep into your hole. Ropes of hot cum shot into you, filling you.
Yoongi panted heavily over you, his head resting on your shoulder as he struggled to keep himself up. You were breathing heavily as well, your nipples brushed against his chest. You were sensitive. You hissed.
“You can lay down,” the words had barely left your lips before he had let his weight settle on top of you. A smile crossed your face as his hands tangled in your hair and stroked it lightly. You wrapped him up in a hug, wanting him to stay like this for a while. It was nice to feel him so close.
After a couple of minutes of both of you just recovering and your breathing getting much harder, like a wrestler, you tapped Yoongi twice.
“I’m out,” you joked, “can’t breathe.”
With what looked like a lot of effort, he pushed himself up and off you, pulling out of your suddenly. The cum inside of your vagina gushed out.
You made a face as you felt it drip onto his sheets. Yoongi watched it ooze out of you, not really caring where it was going. He looked mesmerized. He reached out as if to swipe at the cum on your lower lips but you grabbed his wrist before he could.
“We talk now,” you sighed, a bit calmer than before but still a bit worried.
“Now?” He looked so vulnerable again, like he was a scared child. He lay on his side, resting his head on his elbow. He looked down at you, waiting for you to take the reins, the way you always did but this time, you didn’t know where to begin.
Yoongi cleared his throat looking around uncomfortably. When you said nothing, his mind had started to race.
“So… do you… want to be my girlfriend, or are we friends with benefits level right now? Ow!”
You’d smacked his shoulder, not hard at all but he was dramatic and you knew that. He frowned at you, his lips tempting you into another kiss that could lead to something more once again. You were already feeling a little turned on again just looking at the results of his recent gym trips.
“So no to yeo-chin then?”
You smiled up at him, a teasing glint in your gaze, “I didn’t know you had an oppa kink. This whole time, I was right to refuse to call you oppa. I knew you looked way too happy whenever I called you that!”
Yoongi scrunched his nose and looked away, “I don’t! It’s just… when you say it.” He admitted waving a hand as if to bat away your inquisitive and teasing stare.
Not really knowing how to answer that, you chose instead to answer his previous question.
“Nam-chin,” you ran a finger down the center of his pecks, tracing all the light visible muscles that made you want to get off on just riding his chest. Yoongi tensed under your touch. He seemed frozen.
“Did you just call me nam-chin?” You, for once, were not embarrassed. You smiled brightly, happy that the title finally had a head to sit on.
Yoongi pulled you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his heart beat erratically in his chest, singing to yours. To its credit, your heart synced and harmonized almost instantly. He smelled like pure sex and fresh water. He buried your face into his bare skin, listening to his song. After all these years, after all the tiptoeing and fear, you were finally where you belonged.
“Of course it is,” he paused, kissing the top of your head a couple of times, “yeo-chin.” This time, the word made a shiver roll down your spine. Arousal began to pool between your sticky thighs once more and if the third leg on your stomach was anything to go by, he was as well.
“Can- can we take a shower?” you asked him, biting your lips and pushing your chest against his suggestively.
He smirked, his mouth watered at the thought of taking you in the shower. He could almost hear your moans echoing in his wet room as he sat you down and ate you out until the water ran cold. Easy clean up even.
“Yes.” he breathed, connecting his lips to yours. You kissed for a while, your lips meshing together lovingly. Yoongi was a good kisser, you realized. He was a good lay as well. And he was cute to boot. Suddenly, he pulled away and picked you up bridal style and walked you to his restroom. He once again kicked the door open to avoid using his hands and walked you through, but this time instead of throwing you down, he set you on the toilet, him on his knees between your pushed open legs.
“I hope you don’t have any plans,” he said, kissing up your thighs and pulling you close to the edge, “because I have all the time in the world and I’m really, really thirsty.”
He ran two fingers over your abused center, collecting his cum and your new arousal. Sure, there were still a lot of things to talk about between you two. Yoongi still wasn’t sure if you fully understood the depth of his feelings nor was he sure if you simply liked him and the slip of the L-word was nothing more than that. A slip. But like he’d said, he had all the time in the world to ask and all the time to make sure he earned you and your trust. He would do anything he could to prove it and some day he would be.
But for now, he was royally fucked by the sinful sounds that escaped your pretty lips and he wanted nothing more than to just enjoy.
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I hope yall enjoyed it and that this is a good come back after our roast session from permission to dance:)
