#therefore I’m going to enjoy indulging in them sucking and fucking unapologetically

[garnet-xx-rose]

Yes, I’ve done the work analyzing this relationship’s problematic traits and I’ve come to the educated conclusion that I still want them to fuck

#Erik/Christine #phantom of the opera #shipping discourse #Entrapdak #poto #my experience with Entrapdak fits this too #I’ve done the reflecting #looked at the pro vs anti sides like a good academic student #and my conclusion is that they still have the stronger connection #therefore I’m going to enjoy indulging in them sucking and fucking unapologetically #you can not tell me otherwise

[jjkpls]

Mean Yoongi 3 (m)

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : min yoongi x reader (f)

> words : 5.2k

> warnings : strong language, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (m), cum play , yoongoes is being a soft meany again

> “Are you here to distract me again?”

“Min Yoongi, you’re the one who called me.”

He just stares as he does, vaguely puzzled. However in the dim light, only illuminated by his computer screen, I decipher a tiny curve to his lips. Something subtle and sneaky that I keep seeing on his blank face lately. He squints his eyes my way, for the longest time, then tilts his head to the side, the way he does when he doesn’t agree or doesn’t understand, and turns around, humming to himself something I don’t catch. What a clown. 

> previous

< next

“Yeah sure, you can tell me about your day. You already do it all the fucking time.” He’s mumbling like a grumpy old man and instead of making me crack up the way it usually does, it annoys me to no end. He’s mean to be saying that. He’s not wrong per se but still. When he hears me scoff indignantly, he looks up from his laptop, he raises his lazy eyes at my face and I imagine it looks pretty pitiful because he’s rolling them in annoyance, one hand reaching for the back of my thigh squeezing kindly. “I’m just saying. You don’t need my permission.” I don't pull away for it feels too nice but it doesn't smother my pettiness.

“Cause I’m going to do it anyway?” I ask through a pout, shifting lightly on my feet. Yoongi smiles or more like grins. My heart squeezes at the sight. 

It’s so lovely. One of those rare ones. The ones that make him look like a turtle. A cute happy turtle with the most adorable gums. The thing is that I'm stupid and forget who I'm facing and dare wear my adoration on my face. As soon as he notices, his happy face falls in a scowl, ducking his head, he pretends to dive all of his much-needed attention in his computer – he just closes the software he was working on. “You should be sweeter with me, Suga.” 

I never call him that. Never, ever. And it shows. I see him visibly lag, tense a little as he bites the underside of his bottom lip, pondering over my words. 

His hands busy themselves with gathering the mess that is the top of his desk. He arranges in a neat pile papers and notebooks, puts away the pencils and empty coffee cups, slips his laptops and other useless devices in the drawer. 

“I’m not sweet?” He asks, eyebrows high. That is so him. He sounds genuine in his disagreement when we both know he’s not. Lately, I've been observing him more than usual, simply because I've been over the dorm and their studio more often. And something did not miss my vigilance. He’s sugary-sweet, honey-dripping-gentle with some of his bandmates -Jungkook and Hoseok, to name the main concurrents. It’s not surprising, I know him to be loving and caring inside. Before, he used to completely suck at expressing it and was an asshole to everyone. But he’s softened down with the years and some benefits this new lovely version of him. Jungkook and Hoseok do anyway. But not me. He’s not the worst, he’s just Min Yoongi. But I don’t understand why he never tries and hold my hand -like he does his younger brothers'-, make up private jokes and nicknames for the both of us -like he does with the maknae-, smile lovingly at me while beaming my way -for a hot second I almost thought I'd have to fight Hoseok for this man because the affectionate eyes he is granted with all the time were poking viciously my greedy heart. He does fuck -I'd like to say 'make love' but I'm not sure, and it makes me cringe and flush to think about it that way- me nice and he kisses me infinitely softly when he does but it doesn’t bleed outside of the confine, intimate space we meet in. So much so, Taehyung still thinks I'm bothering his hyung too much and low-key called me a 'stalker' earlier, when I walked straight past him, saying I was not here to see him but Yoongi. When he’s the one who called me!

That’s something I should clear out sometime. What am I to him? Because he sure didn’t clear this out with his friends. He didn’t hint at anything with me. Are we dating? Or just, friends messing around? I'm pretty sure that’s not his kind. Yoongi looks cool and laid back for the most part, seemingly detached. In reality, I know he doesn’t get close to people easily, it being emotionally or physically. It takes him time. He doesn’t complain ever about loneliness and that’s not because he’s never alone. I know him -and this mostly from his music since he never really talks about himself even though sometimes quiet words he utters here and there in interviews or during some of his late-night live streams give me hints- to be a sensitive being, passionate and invested when he does allow himself to love and care about someone. He wouldn’t let anyone in just to have light-hearted, unapologetic, aimless relationships with them. Even though he doesn’t show it too much, I know he’s soft and fragile. Precious.

Therefore, what does it mean when he doesn’t block my number anymore when I send him too many memes, doesn’t send someone else to tell me to stop messaging him or spamming him request to play some mobile games he doesn’t have time to waste on; when he initiates on his own initiative conversations to threaten me into eating and taking care of myself properly -which should annoy me because he assumes based on nothing that I'm an irresponsible slob but really, it makes me so giddy and tingly in the chest, I don’t mind it. And when he calls, like he did today, demanding me to come over 'just because'. Just because he wants to see me, if I were to let myself complete the missing words. Still, he doesn’t say so and I still don’t know if we are dating or not. 

I'm an idiot. 

Pretending that the thought just occurred to me when really, it’s almost all I've been thinking about lately. 

It's not the only thing, I owe to be honest. The other thing I've been thinking about is his body. More specifically his cock and his hands. They leave me restless and on edge constantly, it's become hard to live with it. Especially at work when I get bored or frustrated and my mind seems to think it’s funny to drown me in tantalizing thoughts with very strong implications that I can’t in any way indulge in. The fact that I'm too terrified to text him to let him know when I'd like to have him doesn’t help. I just let him do it. Staring down at my phone for hours, trying to make Yoongi manifest in it accompanied by a seductive proposition. Flooding his phone with amazing raccoon gifs that I know he doesn’t even appreciate the way he should, hoping that he’ll send something along the lines of 'if I let you suck me off will you stop harassing me?'. It never occurs. Since the first time we slept together, he’s called me over four times and I slept with him six -twice I was supposed to hang out with Taehyung but shit happens when Yoongi is eye-fucking me from across the room, not a care in the world for me nor our friend.

In other words, it’s hard 'dating' Min Yoongi and this precisely because he is not sweet enough. “Why are you wearing those fucking shoes?” He sounds so annoyed, glaring at my Converse like he means to set them on fire. I frown, twisting my ankle a bit, looking at them intensely. I love those shoes.

“What’s wrong with them? You wear Converse all the time.” He glares darker, this time directly at my face. My words have offended him even more than the shoes had, and I can almost hear him damn me to Hell in his head. When his hands grab my hips to lead me to his desk, pressing my ass against the edge where he’s cleaned up space, I squeal in surprise. Both from not expecting the gesture and from the ever gentleness of it, contrasting so drastically with his expression. 

“You don’t see me wear them when I’m going to get fucked by my boyfriend now, do you?” The magic word strikes me, stopping my heart completely for a second too long, it hurts when suddenly it starts beating again to a frenetic rhythm. “They’re a fucking pain.” He grumbles. His fingers are reaching down, aiming for the shoelaces he hardly fiddles with for a second before giving up, sighing loudly as he straightens back up on his chair, looking at me like I just kicked him in the dick. “What?” He asks after a while of me just standing there, shook and unresponsive. I see the blush on his pearl-white cheeks. It’s subtle, doesn’t match the severity of his features but it’s there.

“You said ‘boyfriend’.” And maybe it is time for me to go through my whole Mean Yoongi 101 textbook again because I keep missing the tips and tricks to hold some kind of power with the guy. Lesson 1: do not show any signs of distress, embarrassment, expectation, hope. It will feed his ego and his newfound confidence will enjoy thoroughly torturing you.

I sound tiny. Eager and desperate and so, so timid, so enchanted as I am to have heard the word. It’s all he needs to clear the pink off of his face and starts smirking like an asshole. 

“Oh yeah, my bad. Sorry. We’re not dating, right?” The question thrown out into space lingers, rendering me confused and speechless. 

“We’re not?” I ask and so pathetically so. I can feel my eyes wide, begging. I must look like a sad puppy, yearning for love and appreciation. 

“You didn’t ask me to be your boyfriend, did you?” He says it as if he wonders out loud, as if he’s skimming over his memory to retreat a recollection we both already know not to be there.

“No, but-“

“Then I guess we’re not,” Yoongi concludes, smacking his tongue on the ceiling of his mouth. He’s holding himself from sniggering out loud, it’s obvious. 

“I guess not,” I admit quietly. He’s lavishing in my distress, I can tell. Laidback as he is, arms sprayed along the armrest, the tip of his fingers drumming teasingly on the leather, he’s having a blast. What a dick. What a fucking dick. I'm not going to ask. I'm not that lame. It’s ridiculous anyway. If it were anyone else I wouldn’t feel so confident about it, I'd probably consider it to be a sneaky loop one could use to be like 'Well I asked you if you wanted to be in a relationship you didn’t say anything so I don’t owe you anything', but it's Yoongi and I know where his heart is at. There’s no doubt in my mind. Still, I hate the idea that he’s going to use it against me. The ambiguity, the doubt that is not really there, he’ll have fun torturing me with it. I just know it. There’s no fucking way I'm turning weak enough to ask for the stupid label. He’d love this too much. 

“Sit.” He commands and like a perfectly-obedient puppy, I take the seat he’s made for me on the desk. It’s weird. To be sitting like that, in front of him, higher yet vulnerable in a way. I don’t feel empowered. I feel minuscule and exposed, like a prey in front of its predator, useless and powerless, at its mercy, knowing it’ll get swallowed down in a second. “So, friend (I hate him, I hate him! He makes it sound so spiteful, giving me sort of a taste of how nice and brilliant it would feel to have him say the magic word. If he were to call himself my 'boyfriend', I would lose my fucking mind.), what is it you wanted to talk about? Something happened at work?” He slides closer on his desk chair, ending up all close and personal, with his hands encasing me, front arms laid along my thighs. His fingers, smooth as silk and precise, play with my skirt, swiftly bundling it up as high as possible.

“What are you doing?” I squeak out, pressing my thighs together in a protective reflex. As if. As if it's something that I've meant. As if I'm not craving for his touch every single second of every fucking day. I always want him. But it's hard. He's cool, so charismatic, beautiful and he makes me feel some type of way recently, as if my heart is not mine anymore but his. I don't remember willingly having given it to him but I don't mind it so much. Except when he's troubling me so much so, killing me with his teasing, it feels like he knows, without me telling him, that he owns it.

“Going to eat you out.” He sounds almost bored when he looks up at me, heavy eyes and lips pursuing forward. But a subtle glowering glint betrays him, I would have missed it if I've had overlooked. He wants it. I'm not sure if it's for my enjoyment or his. He always makes it feel like that. Like it's just about him. He demands and takes. His fingers are always ravaging my cunt, his mouth loving my skin, nibbling and sucking, but the back of his free hand swatting my wandering touch to prevent me from giving him pleasure too, not letting me try much on him. I wonder if it makes him a pleaser, one of those lovers who find the most of their pleasure in giving rather than receiving. How ironic would it be? Then again, we've never really taken the time to, well, take the time. It's always a bit rushed. Either by our schedules; or by invasive third parties -Taehyung- who doesn't get why so much of my time is spent on his hyung rather than them and where I've run off too when I was supposed to just be off for a quick bathroom break; or simply by fatigue, because not only is it hard for Yoongi to have some free time when he does, he's often worn out and not up for a sex marathon of any kind. Maybe he'd like to have me touch him more. Maybe it's something he's not used to and would require a bit of warming up to but still desires. I know the effect that compliments have on him. He despises them -while probably holding them dear to his heart when no one is here to witness. It makes me feel so sad. Probably too sad. He would hate it if I were to express it to him. I know he wants Love. I know he deserves it and maybe, doesn't get as much as he should simply because, the unfamiliarity, the bashfulness, render him a bit repulse to them. I just want to give him so much love. All the love that I own, all there is available in the world. I want him to bathe in it and never, ever have that dubious frown as a response to heartfelt praise. I want to give it to him. Starting now. And that's why I'm not having it, peering his way like I'm determined not to listen for once -well I don't really listen to him in general, but usually, I'm not facing him full-on, he'd be at the other end of the world or would at least have his back turned to me when doing so because he's still Min Yoongi, and he's scary.

“I said you can tell me all about your exciting life but I’m eating you out while you do.” So my life and its tales are boring, I get that. And a way for him to cope with boredom would be to give me head. Interesting. Sort of. 

I've never received a successful cunnilingus before. It would always last a couple of minutes at most, being shortened by my own initiative because I could tell it wouldn't take me anywhere. The pleasure was simply non-existent. Just awkward, unsincere effort put into tiny kitten licks placed right where I didn't need them. The main reason, I gathered from matching the impression these boys gave me to the testimonies I've found online, was that they didn't want to do it. They treated my crotch like some sort of gross time bomb they had to deactivate. They didn't like doing it and it showed. 

But here Min Yoongi is acting like he likes doing it as a fucking hobby. I'm not so surprised. He's never done it before but the soaked fingers he would stick, as if on instinct, in his mouth almost each time he's done fingering me and a few lewd confessions he's made in the crook of my neck in the heat of the moment hinted that perhaps, he's thought about it and meant to do it with me at some point, possibly, sooner than later. But again, time and circumstances and the universe did not want it to happen until now apparently. 

Today though, we have time. It's 9 pm, the whole dorm is empty except for the two of us, and it's not supposed to be crowded with overgrown invasive babies until at least midnight. So there's time. Min Yoongi likes eating pussies. He wants to do it to me now. There's still a little reluctance remaining in my attitude though. And of course, there would be. I feel like if I give in now, he's going to take the lead like he always does and I won't, even after he's done with me, have the occasion to treat him with all my love and spoil him until his porcelain cheeks turn into a flaming red. “Stop whining and lift your butt for a sec.” His hands are patting my thighs encouragingly but I don't. I frown and I scowl. So hard I might get a permanent crease rooted between my eyebrows but fuck him. Fuck him because I can already feel my determination waver, and I know it's going to end the way it always does: his way. He doesn't understand why I'm being so reluctant, persuaded I'm just playing hard to get as payback for earlier, he smugly claims, “Everyone wants to test my tongue technology.” I roll my eyes at that. Feels like too much Kim Seokjin has rubbed on him.

“You say it as if you're not the one who came up with it in the first place.” 

It makes him laugh and that's the moment he wins. With his stupid turtle smile, and the quiet breathy chuckle, what am I supposed to do? “Lift up.” I do it with a sulking painted all over my face. Along with my skirt, he brings entirely out of the way in a bundle behind me, he drags my panties down my legs, a tiny twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips dawning from my embarrassment. “Have you been eaten out before?” The tips of his fingers gently tap the side of my thighs. He's not pressing yet. Just smothering my nerves, making it a little easier to breathe and a little simpler to relax at each completed circle of his thumb.

“Just once or twice,” I whisper, flushing a little.

Matching my tone, he responds as quietly, the words hardly loud enough under the purrs encasing them. He makes me shudder. “Was it good?” I shrug dismissively. I don't want to get into it and it is of so little importance right now.

It takes me a moment to ease into him, no matter how bad I want him to start to please me, to discover if he's as good as he pretends, as skilled as I want to imagine him to be. “Open up.” I decide I'm not going to care. He looks eager to start. His wide and cold hands, warming up at the contact of my thighs, caress patiently. He bends, kisses the side of my knee so softly -it still amazes me, how gentle he can be, he's really the softest under the thick first layer- I give in.

His thumbs attach to my lips, spreading them open to expose my clit. His breath hits it, he watches so intently and I wonder what he sees. I've never watched myself, never particularly curious about what I look like down there, from up close. Right now, I wish I did. That's a thing. I saw it on TV once: women that go to a club -they pay for it, which is so weird- to sit on the floor in a room, and individually check their pussies out in a pocket mirror. So fucking weird, I remember thinking. But I should have -maybe without the whole paying for a club and be around other people while doing so but at home, at least once, to know. Because I have no idea what I look like and I'm feeling suddenly self-conscious. Do I look any... yummy? Pink and wet and endearing? “When are you gonna start?” It makes me frown in confusion. Isn't he supposed to be the one starting something? “Telling about your day.” I groan petulantly.

“Yoongi, shut up!” It's outrageous that he puts me in this situation, legs open and crotch glistening with want, aroused, yet angry because he can't help but act like a dickhead. And as always, he won't pay for that. Not answering me, simply smiling to himself, he sets his wet mouth to my mound, sucking my breath away. It's not like it's for me. It's for him. The way he hums, his eyelids fluttering shut, he's enjoying it too much, savouring with utter pleasure my taste.

And of course, he's good at it. Not that I would point it out to him, purely from bitterness, if he were to be bad. His tongue laps along my whole crotch, the tip of his tongue dipping briefly in my hole on its way. I bite hard on my lip, sucking it in to hold any sound I could let out that he would, most certainly, relish in. Once he's spread my wetness everywhere with his tongue, he backs away for a second, staring again while he collects my arousal from his lips, savouring the taste. Yoongi sucks on my labia, taking each lip in individually, suckling like he's making out with my cunt. It's loud and messy, reaches my ears and burns my body with shame, making me sweat in my clothes. It's so hot. He's just so good. Delving his tongue inside, playing with my nub, flicking it left and right, up and down, lapping grossly. 

“Hold your legs.” He demands, guiding them himself to my chest and maintining them until I wrap my hands around my thighs and quietly keep the position. “Wider.” He intimates me, eyes glued to my centre, a thunder-like growling of delight coming straight from his throat. It's incredibly arousing. I'd be embarrassed, ashamed to go along and expose myself so indecently but when he's looking at me like that -like he wants me like he's never wanted anyone before, like I'm the most desirable woman he's ever seen- it's pretty easy to glaze over the feeling. I can feel myself dripping, the light grazing of air a temporary stimulation. I'm not sure how real it is, if it's my imagination playing with me, but I could swear I heard him utter a quiet 'good girl' as he hummed in appreciation for my perfect obedience. 

I can't help it -when it feels so good, it obliterates my mind and renders me stupid, only thinking about, only driven by the promised release- I have to grind on his face. He welcomes the motion so enthusiastically, sticking his tongue out for a while to let me ride it the way I need. I'm squealing. Literally. Tiny, high little whimpers I can't control. It's the frustration. I feel how huge it's growing. I'm so ready to have it snap and free me. But it doesn't. It's too much yet not enough and I'm whining in dissatisfaction. I'm so, so close. It just wouldn't burst. The hypersensibility, the overstimulation hurt. I'm in pain, unable to handle it all. My legs shaking in my hands. My eyes spilling tiny tears at the corners. However, Yoongi is here to save me. The same way he proved me multiple times before, he knows what to do. He takes a second to take a much-needed breath, mindlessly sucking on his lips. It's dizzying. His pretty hand, the one that's been sitting on the back of my thigh, slides down, two of his glorious fingers tease at my hole, a jolt of pleasure shoots me and he doesn't give it time to fade before he's slipping them in, effectively stretching me out -enough to feel the delicious burn but not too much that it hurts. They curl as soon as they're nicely snug in, the tips hitting right on my sensitive spot. I hiss aloud, he sniggers in my folds as he smacks his mouth back against my lips. His tongue flicks my bud a few times before he wraps his lips around it, the fingers abusing ruthlessly from inside the other end. It's too much, makes me cry out, hump the air. He hums and purrs and groans against me as his head follows, not allowing his mouth to part away and it's the vibrations along with the high double stimulation that take me there. My whimpers quicken, growing louder as his lovely mouth rides the orgasm with me. It's exquisite. Even more so as he keeps moaning against me, seeming more and more excited the louder I get. It feels like it takes forever for the spasming to stop, the high to weaken. I'm left spent, speechless, wincing because just breathing strikes the sensitivity. My eyes flutter open on him, standing up between my legs. He's watching me carefully, his feline gaze dark, as he wipes his chin dry with the length of his thumb.

“Okay?” He inquires tenderly. I nod and he leans in to place a tender kiss on my mouth. His tongue slides along my lip, leaving a wet path tasting like my own juice and then he stops teasing to focus on his belt which he starts unfastening. I'm left to watch him do it. He's so hot. Everything he is, everything he makes me feel, everything he does is so incredibly hot.

Yoongi doesn't bother taking his pants off, or even sliding them down, simply pulling his cock out. The pretty thing brings more heat to my cheeks. I've missed it. The straightness, the hardness, the whiteness with the charming flush head, the veins complimenting the ones on his hand. And he's leaking. A lot. I can see it from up there, glowering conspicuously in the dim light. His left-hand gets a hold of his member, wrapping around the base, squeezing firmly while his right one reaches forward, the back of his pointer grazes my crotch, dipping in the wetness. I flinch visibly, one of my legs jerks and that makes him chuckle again. He withdraws from my warmth, deeming it better to let me rest for now and instead diverts his attention to the tabletop, between my legs. My breath hitches in my throat when I notice the mess I didn't even realize I've made. 

There's so much. I've never really paid attention, therefore, I can't tell if it's more than usual; if, perhaps, I even squirted. Either way, Yoongi lives for it. He dips his fingers in the puddle, smiling to himself so obnoxiously, it makes me want to punch him in the rib. He plays for a bit with it, toying with the movement of the liquid, enjoying how much there is before he rubs all that he's gathered between his fingers on his cock. Looking me straight in the eyes, appearing as sinful as ever, he proceeds on treating his begging tip. He doesn't even bother taking care of the length or his balls, greedy as he is to come already, stroking the engorged tip, frotting his palm on it, twisting his hand around. It's so wet. I can hear the slick sounds his quick stroking makes from the mixture of our essences. There's the panting too. Erratic, coloured with lovely groans that make my cunt clench around nothing. That's apparently all I need to wake my arousal, to make me forget all about the uncomfortable stinging of oversensitivity: Min Yoongi, handsome as ever, with his lips red and swollen from eating me out, his cheeks rosy from excitation, lazy eyes begging me to watch him, abusing his cock with desperate frenzy. Observing him, not wanting to miss a beat of it, I move the dark hair sticking to his forehead with my fingers, to then let them rest on his plump cheek, so soft and burning under my tips. Yoongi leans in, eyelids slowly fall close, he purrs like the kitty he is and my heart hurts. Soon enough he's groaning again, loud and deep, and he's anything but adorable. “I'm gonna come.” He hisses, his jaw tight, hand pumping erratically. “Kiss me.” 

It's against the plump of my mouth, biting on my bottom lip that he finally comes, moaning a helpless call of my name that sends a shiver down my spine, turning every drop of the blood in my veins into an electric filled fluid. There's some of his cum leaning on the skin just before my crotch. It feels like pure torture, as it slowly glides down my thigh. I watch it, mesmerized, ignoring the amused eyes set on me. “If you wanted me to cum on you, you should have said so.” He taunts, biting on his lip as he smirks.

“Why do orgasms make you even more insufferable?” That's funny because he decides to shrug, giving a little side tilt of his head as if he admits it instead of arguing or come back with a snarky comment.

“Are you going to ask me to be your boyfriend?”

“You're a dick.” Yoongi raises his eyebrows high, pinching his lips together in mock bewilderment.

“You flirt weird.”

Giving up on trying to be snarky and sassy and smart, I simply repeat on my way out, “You're a dick, Yoongi.” I've reached the door already when his hands seize my waist, effectively stopping me on my track. I let him do it because I'm too merciful and too hopeful that he may have something sweet to say. He turns me around, holds my face in his palms, they're burning, and I feel myself melting in them. Softly, his lips meet mines. Not for long. But it's so tender and gentle, it suffices to take my breath away.

“I'm seriously not going to call you my girlfriend until you ask me out properly.” I fight my way out of his grasp, fleeing for his studio door under the loud background music made of his stupid breathy laughter. 

Today, he's too much of a dick, I'll just have to spoil him with my love another day.

A/N : So this happened. I don’t know about this, I’m stuck in a writing funk these past weeks or so... I feel like it’s all stiff and doesn’t flow well idfk. Don’t hesitate to let me know how you feel about this attempted soft filth. kisses & purple hearts to you !

#ksmutclub #networkbangtan #btswriterscollective #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #my writing #to edit again