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kithtaehyung · 7 months

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mami (m) | myg/knj

title: mami (m) pairing: myg x reader(f) , knj x reader(f) , slight jhs x reader(f)😛 rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au summary: you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date. note: heavy 00s vibes, this is just the beginning of a collection of parts instead of just a oneshot let’s fucking goooo🦋 note 2: this is pretty unedited lolll if there are mistakes i'm so so sorry! warnings for this part: language, choking, joon in sweats, bathroom s*x, b*ckshots, friendly sp*nks from your roomie🤪, it uhhh starts right out the gate lmfao, hobi in silk and a robe, yoongi is a warning in his own right, light sl*pping, you get called mamiii😗 so if that’s not ur thing i’d skip this series !!, joon is too smooth, a secret fourth guy lmfaoooo, battle rap scenarios! drop date: september 26th, 2023, 10:07pm est word count: 3.7k mood: here

“You like that, huh?”

Breath short, you can only gasp as the hands you’ve been eyeing all night clutch your throat, a fiendish hum the first response to your satisfied grin.

“Knew you would.” As your delicious captor speaks, you just know he’s fixated on your makeup—at least, the way it’s smearing onto a bathroom mirror that has seen better days. “You all do.”

Fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Fucking hell, he always knows.

Your lust condenses and slides down the glass in rivers, and with each experienced thrust inside your folds, it’s getting harder, and harder, and harder to see the man wrecking your shit.

But it’s coming. The end. The coil inside you is screaming and tightening and you know he can feel every potent pulse as you slap the tiny counter with a palm. “Yoongi—”

“You gonna come, mami?”

Yes yes yes you really fucking are. It’s so truthful that you can’t even voice your agreement in words, your moans higher and higher in pitch the only tell you can possibly give.

“Then fucking do it.”

Light bounces from your eyes and rebounds off the mirror the same time your whine does, every limb locking while bare shoulders bang against your reflection.

“Fuck.”

You spring right into the ground floor above, eyes rolling so far back you could probably see the way Yoongi’s smirking at your ass if your dumbfounded mush of a brain wasn’t in the way.

Again, and again, you milk his cock for all it’s worth, spurning him into gripping your bouncing hips with rough hands and faster strokes. Laughs and conversations seep through the door at your side, but you can’t make out a thing as you garble,

“Yoongi, please—”

“One more.”

“I can’t—”

“Don’t play dumb,” he tuts. “You won’t hustle me a second time.”

Busted.

Your pout quickly stretches into a devilish curve instead, and you hear his sound of approval before you brag,

“I spent all that already, by the way.”

Air whizzes past your ears as you’re hoisted upwards, and your mirth reverberates as you’re spun and shoved into the sink, cheap laminate bruising your back.

Yoongi must also be remembering the time your pussy sucked the soul out of him. After you both made a bet that you couldn’t beat someone’s record time making him come.

You won half of his prize money that night.

And that was the night he won the entire thing.

“You’re lucky I respect it,” he snarls, sweaty fingers gripping your chin as he slings a leg over his pelvis. When he grins, you wanna lick the white off his teeth. “And you’re lucky I made it back the next night.”

Oh, shit. Did he really?

Battle rap events usually stack so that everyone gets a chance. How did he get invited back the same weekend?

Well, other than being a monster on the mic. There’s a reason you can’t stay away from him, and you may or may not admit you get turned on by how effortlessly ruthless he is.

Lips smushed, you ask with genuine curiosity, “You won again?”

Yoongi lightly smacks your cheek, chuckling when you grit out a moan. “Nah. The sponsors loved me,” he claims, finally bringing a hand down to guide himself back inside. “So they paid me to come back.”

“Sick,” you praise through a grunt, fully catching his eyes for the first time tonight. Pushing past the way he fills you so fantastically, you huff out, “That doesn’t happen on south side.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, apparently west and east side do it a lot. Especially with that guy Randa—”

“Fuck Randa.”

Ah, so Yoongi knows him? You haven’t ventured into the west scene yet, but the one thing you know about it is that dude’s name.

So he must be a beast.

Especially if Gloss himself had some choice words.

At this little slip of emotion, you don’t hide your smirk at all. “Oh? Maybe I will if that’s how you feel.”

The sudden possessive shove of his cock into your folds is delightful, your high giggle pinging off the bathroom walls.

“Fuck whoever you want, princess,” he chides right against your lips. “You’ll always come back to me.”

“Duh.” You flick your tongue over his plush. “You wouldn’t last a week without me anyway.”

Yoongi pushes into you again, stare heavy and coaxing butterflies from your belly. “I’d manage.”

“As if.”

But even through the pleasure, you still wonder. How are you both having a regular conversation right now? This never happens with him. You’ve wanted it to, but there simply hasn’t been any talk when he’s involved.

The high from your orgasm compounds with this strange feeling that you turn a little playful.

“What I meant was…” Fingernail poking his tank, you joke with a sly curve, “Guess you must be like, good or whatever.”

When he looks down, you childishly swoop your finger up to bump his nose. “Ha. Loser.”

Predictably, Yoongi pauses before only his eyes raise, suppressed emotions hiding behind long dark strands. “Really.”

And even though you felt him twitch in your core, you’ll spare him. “I don’t make the rules.”

You think this is when he’ll start ramming into you again, because none of the times you’ve hooked up ever lasted this long. It’s always been quick with him, and never in any other place other than bathrooms or broom closets.

Which isn’t bad. Just a pattern you’ve noticed.

But Yoongi huffs in amusement before shaking his head. “Since when were you this weird?”

“Wow, rude?” Your scoff is full of mock annoyance. “I’ve always been this way.”

It’s just that no one’s taken the time to get to know you.

“But you’re so…”

All they care about is one thing.

Which, granted, is the same in your case.

It just gets a bit lonely sometimes.

Offering to finish for him to stiff arm any more incoming awkwardness, you blurt, “Hot? Slutty?”

“Fast.”

Oh.

Did you both just assume the other person wanted it over and done with?

That’s entirely possible considering the first time it happened lasted a grand total of three minutes. Max.

“I mean…” You lean back on your palms, not caring to adjust your very mussed top because your chest finally snags all of Yoongi’s attention. How he’s still hard inside of you is a complete mystery. “I don’t just fuck, you know.”

“And here I thought we were similar,” he teases, groaning through his teeth when you roll on his dick. Again.

And again.

Of course you’re both similar. The only difference is that people dub this guy a sex god and you’re an easy lay.

But you won’t get into that with him. Not now and probably not ever since you don’t dare even label Yoongi a friend.

Panting, you observe him watching your movements as you switch the subject, “You fucked that one sponsor chick for the invite, huh.”

And he takes the out hilariously quick,

“Both of them.”

Of course. Your head kicks back in laughter, remembering that there were two people running the event instead of one.

Truthfully, you would’ve paid to see that.

“Can’t stand you,” you lie, the way you chuckle as he slaps one of your tits saying otherwise.

“Good.”

As he rubs a rough thumb over a nipple, an announcement blares over deejay scratches and cheers, tugging both of your eyes to the door.

Before things quickly devolve into how they always go.

When you arch forward, his lips devour your breast; when you rock your hips into his, the groans against your chest make you feel alive.

Your nails claw through his hair before you can’t decide if you wanna rake them through his shoulders or his neck. Here, there, everywhere you can grab, you take hold.

Suddenly, Yoongi clutches the top of your skirt before thrusting in hard, and his laugh when you whine out a curse strikes your soul. “It’s better that way.”

It’s always better that way.

“Agreed,” you murmur, eyes flickering to the janky ceiling before sighing out, “I think they just said your name.”

“Mm.”

He plunges into you so hard you see his impish curve imprinted among the stars.

“Then hurry up, mami. Gimme one more for luck.”

MAMI

“Who’s on the menu tonight?”

You hum while peering into your mirror—a much cleaner, brighter mirror than the one you were pressed against a couple weeks ago. “That nice guy I’ve been seeing at the gym.”

“Wait, what? Are you going on a date date?”

“Hobi,” you giggle, loving your roommate very much despite the way he just forgets sometimes. “We went through this already.”

“So… Is that a yes, or.” His laugh blurts out when you throw a middle finger next to your head. “Okay, okay! You can just say it, you know.”

“I just”—you spot check your makeup before vacating your vanity stool—“You know me. I never do dates.”

As Hobi leans back on your bed, the way his hot pink robe matches your comforter makes you highly amused. Almost amused enough that you don’t react to his nosy question,

“Nervous?”

Extremely.

“Uhm,” you start, all pretenses dropping at the sight of his cocked brow. “A bit.”

Springing up, your roommate pads over and rests thin palms over even thinner straps of your sundress.

“What’s got you nervous, love?”

Pouting, you look out your window before your chin is gently swiveled back forward. Thankful for his insistence, you confess to the only guy that you feel like you can trust,

“What if I like him?”

The laugh you get is full of disbelief and pity. “That’s what you’re worried about? Really?”

When you nod, he chuckles again, but it’s smaller. And more understanding than the first.

“Pathetic, right.”

“No, no no,” Hobi starts, sliding his hands down to warm your biceps before squeezing. When he pauses, his expression gives his thoughts away before he can utter them. “Well, a little.”

“Hoseok.”

“But! Only because you’re making it seem that way.” He squeezes again before sitting back down on your bed. “If you just let things happen without thinking, isn’t that better?”

Does he really have to flop down to rest his head on his palms? Now?

Talk about not thinking.

Whatever. You didn’t expect Hoseok to do that, but he looks hot, so you’ll let it slide.

And you don’t shy away from his silk-covered package before retorting, “Says you.”

“Me? I overthink. That’s different.”

“How!”

“Don’t think about it.”

When he winks, you both laugh, and his grin slowly devolves into a smirk before he motions you over with a mere head cock.

And you gladly oblige.

Because your dynamic with Hobi still hasn’t changed.

Slowly, you arrive at his knees before mounting the bed at his hips, being steadied over his pelvis as he keeps his prone position.

“You look hot as fuck, you know.”

“Mmhmm.”

“He’s gonna like you for sure.”

“Naturally.”

“So what if you end up liking him, too?”

As he smoothes a hand over the side of your ass, you purse your lips in thought. “Uhh… Feelings? I guess?”

“You can have those, babe.”

“Not mine,” you correct, knowing yours are too fucked up to share with anyone. Which is exactly why you’re all for the so-called fast title that Yoongi clipped onto your persona. “His.”

Does the lifestyle you chose come with regrets? Yeah. Complications? Also yes. But at least those hurt less than the regrets and complications actual relationships come with.

You’re just fine with how things are.

Which is why you’re scared about seeing Namjoon, because he seems like the type that wants something steady. If you end up liking him, you’re gonna have to choose between options that are vastly different in color.

Despite all that, you still said yes when he asked you out at the gym last week—while you were drenched, bare-faced, and wincing from the last set you completed to failure.

Why did you say yes anyway? What drew you in to this guy?

“If you’re scared of hurting his feelings, then just tell him straight-up,” Hobi advises, pulling you back to the present. “Guys won’t know shit unless you spell it out.”

Looking down at his perfect features, you fake disbelief, asking the most rhetorical question in existence, “You mean you can’t just read our minds?”

“Baby, we can’t even figure out our own, let alone yours.”

“You said it.” Fully reassured, you rest on Hoseok’s chest, careful to not smudge your face on his clothes. “…Pity fuck if the date goes wrong?”

“Of course.”

Your chuckle is soft. “Thank you.”

“Now get up,” he orders, smacking your ass so perfectly that it offends you. “Before I give you another necklace.”

“Hoseok!” When his cackles follow you up as you stand, your jaw cannot hinge back in. “Goddamn, you’re bad.”

“Not as bad as you,” he says, following you out of your room. “Mami.”

That goddamn nickname.

Hobi knows it’s a common term. And he knows it’s one you hear from multiple people, especially on south side. Literally nothing new or groundbreaking.

But he also knows it makes you unwell because of one specific person. Because you confessed that you didn’t expect it from them during a fuck and it made you weak in the knees.

Which caused the same motherfucker to say it over, and over, and over again.

Fucking Yoongi.

Why the hell is it only potent when he says it?

The psychology of that needs to be studied yet you will completely refuse to be a subject.

After checking to make sure you have everything, you fish out your phone to double-check the address before calling a ride.

“Where is it at?”

“Some restaurant on west side.”

“Damn, all the way over there?”

“I’m okay with it,” you assure him, inwardly wincing at the cost on your screen.

Virtually anything on west side is far from your condo, but that’s partly why you’re alright with going. As much as you get around, you don’t prefer taking people back to your place.

Besides. No one needs to know where you live unless you really fuck with them.

And it’s only happened twice.

Hoseok’s unconvinced reply cuts your thoughts in two,

“Alright… Well. Lemme know if you end up somewhere else tonight.”

Smiling, you offer him a warm look, positive that his lean against the kitchen wall would put models to shame. “I always do.”

“What did I say earlier?”

“Spell it out for him.”

“Okay, good.”

When you grin, he does, too.

And you hope this Namjoon guy at least does well with words.

Turns out, he does a fucking splendid job with them.

At least, the things this man is saying has you absolutely melting under dim lights, and you haven’t even gotten your drinks yet.

“You look damn nice tonight, by the way,” he mentions with a dip of his head, fiddling with his napkin and giving you an upsettingly perfect view of his fingers. “I feel underdressed as hell.”

Underdressed? Looking around, you feel like you’re the one that dressed way too formal and you’re in a damn sundress.

You should’ve known, though. The restaurant that Namjoon chose occupies one of the few streets known for its laid-back, easy-going fare. Even you have heard of its unique charm and you reside quite a ways away.

Before you respond, you remember how you arrived, checking around the small space before spotting him in a booth. And while you loved the lax way he dressed, you were even more charmed when he got out just to greet you with a cheek kiss.

And the night has been so pleasant that you forget to be worried.

“Why? I mean, thank you, but why?”

Namjoon gives his sweatpants-covered thighs a glance. “I dunno. You just look bossed up and I’m like, your errand boy.”

Your mirthy disbelief leaks out of your grin before he can finish. Watching a nearby table point at their menus to order, you go along with his compliments,

“I mean, I could use an assistant…”

He only smiles at his hands. “Order me around anytime.”

Cute.

Maybe that’s why you’re drawn to this guy.

Even though he’s huge and can lift like a motherfucker, there’s a soft side that he’s got no shame showing.

Also, as the night goes on, you quickly discover more traits you rarely come across.

Curious, suave, humble—all of them surprise you in the best way. He’s already let you talk much more than he has, and the two of you have debated on not one, but three topics. Including one that you would have left his ass for if you both weren’t on the same page.

“Okay, so we agree.”

“Yes,” he responds in relief. “Definitely would’ve rethought this whole thing if we didn’t.”

“Uhh, yeah, because I would’ve walked out and let you pay for everything.”

“Damn!” Fuck, his grin is charming. “And I would’ve paid it, too.”

Laughing—and realizing that you’re doing that a lot tonight—you rest a hand on his shoulder, “No, no, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Fuck, he’s solid.

“Wait, I’m getting us this time, though.”

“Yeah?”

Holding a round glass up to his lips, he coolly adds,

“And next time, too.”

Well.

There’s no way you’re saying no to that.

“To next time,” you offer, clinking cups and taking a nice sip of your wine.

Things end with both of you just having dinner—a concept so foreign that it makes you wonder if he wanted something more than a second date.

But judging by the times he kept stealing glances and the way his curve stayed at a slant, it’s an open and shut case.

It’s always a bit crowded in the front few rows, so it doesn’t bother you to hang back for the first time in awhile.

Besides, you’re a little late from your date anyway.

Since nothing else happened with Namjoon—he had to leave pretty quick—you determined that you could make it to another Gloss smackdown.

After you greet all the people and bodyguards hanging around the front doors, you arrive downstairs just in time to hear the deejay ushering everyone in.

And based on what you hear, it seems like Yijeong’s got extra volume in his mic tonight.

“Alright, alright, let’s give it up for our two up here, yeah?”

Everyone cheers as you clap to yourself, leaning against a chilly column and ignoring the stares your outfit gets.

The stage looks quite different from back here, with its huddled occupants talking amongst themselves. While you watch both crews laughing and standing around, you wonder what it would be like to support Yoongi from up there instead of on the ground.

You really would if he wanted you to.

“I don’t have to introduce either one but I’m gonna do it anyway. Cus that’s the rules or whatever and they both deserve some love. Give it up for my man K Shine!”

You aren’t familiar with him but you support anyway. A tiny whoop leaves your mouth as a big portion of the room shouts, and you watch as the guy nods to the people that came to see him.

“Oh, we’re showing out, okay. Alright, now let’s hear it for my guy Gloss!”

In contrast, your energy evolves tenfold, and you gladly yell with the rest of the floor as Yoongi stays piercing the ground at his feet.

This guy.

Still the same routine.

You always muse that he could look into the crowd once in awhile, especially since his audience is steadily growing.

If they ever saw his smile, maybe more people would be drawn in wait is he looking up this time?

Wait.

Despite there being rows and rows between you and the stage, you don’t miss the slight shift in his demeanor. It almost looks like he’s scanning the people in front.

What’s he doing? Is he looking for something? Someone?

…He’s not looking for you, is he?

You’re there quite often and always in the same area, but you didn’t think Yoongi would really notice or be checking for you right now.

…But is he?

Before you can think any further, the quick blares of an airhorn shove your thoughts away.

“K Shine, you win the toss,” the middle man on stage announces. Fuck, you think you’d know his name by now, he’s been here a lot ever since the first guy disappeared. “What you got.”

When the man answers, he stares right at Yoongi’s hooded head, fire flaring up the walls already,

“Mister Big House, Big Car, Big Rings can go first.”

Oh.

He—

You really fucking regret not being in the front now.

Immediately, the whole room ooh’s, with the middle man pursing his lips and giving the two opponents space.

Light illuminates the whole stage as both sides back up a bit, heavy cameras set to roll and some feedback ringing through the musty air.

And you wait with bated breath as the crowd goes quiet.

Heart stilling as Yoongi holds a mic right up to his lips.

—

tbc :)))

—

so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D

a/n: thank you all for reading! as i don't have too much time to spend on fics nowadays, i'll be heavily considering feedback and excitement around fics to determine what to work on. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated.

a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! k-shine was one of the first ones i ever watched, and he has good aggressive delivery and performance but not too many heavy hitters. anybody i namedrop will have rap battles linked, so here is one of k-shine’s that i remember from back in the day. battle rap is an art form in itself, and i would like to showcase these talented individuals whenever i can.

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist

#y'all we finally did it we finally posted something :')))#bts fic #yoongi fic #namjoon fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #*ryenfictalk #*latest #ryenwrites #rapline fic #rapline smut #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader

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