Yoongi x fem!reader pt4
genre: hurt/comfort/smut
rating: E
word count: 4,5k
summary: In this series, Yoongi and you are childhood friends, and he’s helping you through some issues you’ve been facing lately, while your relationship slowly blossoms into something more.
warnings: implied depression, self-critical thoughts, EXPLICIT SMUT (oral sex) in the later part of this chap. Start and finish are indicated
Can be read standalone, but is part of a chaptered series
Part I: Catalyze
Part II: Flicker
Part III: Rise
“...and yeah, that’s...why I haven’t been keeping up with my schoolwork.”
You finished the sentence with a timid glance at the curly-haired woman on the other side of the desk. Her hands were knitted on top of the table, one of her eyebrows slightly arched. You understood why. Answering the question “so what seems to be the issue here, Miss Y/LN ?” hadn’t been easy, and you were pretty sure it hadn’t made sense, either.
Basically, you had just stuttered some disjointed, vague gibberish about "feeling a little under the weather lately". Aka, nowhere close to the truth. And now, the anxiety was making itself known. In the form of beads of moisture running down your neck, and your hands fidgeting in your lap.
Because you didn’t want to be here. In fact you wanted to be anywhere but here.
But once again, Yoongi had showed himself perfectly able to push you into motion and help get you back on track. Using his steady, encouraging flow of reassurances, and fingers laced into yours as he pulled you with him to your final destination. And now you were here. Squirming uncomfortably in a chair in the university counselors office, and discussing why you had fallen behind on your studies, all entirely against your will if you were honest.
Your eyes wandered over the neat rows of folders on white shelves, the piles of documents on her desk, the sterile academic environment. Run, is what your brain told you. Just get up, walk out, escape this situation – but Yoongi’s hand, inconspicuously resting on your thigh, prevented it.
Because he’d insisted on coming with. And now he sat next to you, like a parent there to discuss his child’s progression. Clad in his usual uniform, black hoodie and snapback pulled far over his forehead, all in order to avoid being recognized. It worked, and you alone had the counselors undivided attention.
“So, if I understand correctly,” she started, pushing her half-moon glasses further up her nose. “You’ve been...feeling ill? That's why you’ve been absent?”
"Uhm...kind of..."
“I see here that you have a lot of overdue assignments...and you haven't attended classes...but it would be best if you book an appointment with the university healthcare, if you have a condition that interferes with your ability to study.”
Your ears heated up as you digested this information. A tiny, sober voice within you told you yes. Do it, open mouth, voice the issue. Another, more overpowering and toxic one told you no. Repeatedly, until it was basically chanting it like a whole firing squad in your brain.
“No, no, I don’t need to. I...uh, I’ll make sure to finish all the assignments, ma'am. Just been feeling a little...unwell, but, yeah. I’m fine.”
You ignored Yoongi’s pointed glare, along with his attempts to kick you in the shin under the desk. Your counselor expressed clear puzzlement over the sudden change in your narrative.
“Oh? But didn’t you say that you’ve been feeling down and experiencing difficulty with keeping up with your studies?”
“Uh...yeah but, it was just a temporary slump,” you lied, and accompanied it with the most convincing smile you could conjure. “I really am fine, and I will catch up on it. Promise.”
“Miss Y/LN...I really do think you should go see the healthcare unit.”
“No need, I’m fine, I’m absolutely –”
“She’s depressed.”
The sharp exclamation draped itself over the three of you, and the office fell silent. You slowly turned to your left, quiet anger flaring in your gut. And Yoongi, the bastard, was wearing a polite smile and blatantly ignoring your burning looks.
The perplexed-looking lady opposite you blinked about a million times in confusion, before clearing her throat.
“Is what your friend is saying true, Miss Y/LN? You've been feeling depressed?”
Your airways were blocked, by what felt like a thick bundle of dry cotton. You didn't get a word out. Yoongi decided to just nod in affirmation on your behalf.
"Yeah, yes, she’s...been down. Not left her apartment much and just slept and not eaten and...I think she needs to see someone.”
“Oh, oh dear...well, that sounds worrying indeed." The lady turned to you with a motherly smile. "I’ll book you an appointment to the healthcare center, Miss Y/LN. They can refer you to a mental health professional if there's a need for that...hold on a moment...”
She started tapping something on her computer, while she kept talking, but you didn’t focus on it much. You were forced to just listen and accept the documents shoved into your hands, with the appointment date and other information. Forced to nod affirmatively when she announced it would be next week.
Not like you were about to go. No way.
Once you were dismissed, you were fuming. You stormed out and over the university grounds, leaving Yoongi and the repeated stream of requests to slow down behind you.
“Y/N, fucking wait – jesus, can you wait!?"
He finally caught you, but you ripped your arm from his grip instantly, backing further away while spitting furious words in his face.
“No, I can’t! Why the hell did you have to tell her that, Yoongi?! You had no right to tell her I’m…”
You came to a screeching halt just as you were about to say it, and gathered yourself. Yoongi regarded you from a distance, his eyes like dark, tranquil oceans as usual.
Always so understanding, always compassionate. Even now when you wanted none of it.
“I’m not depressed. Everything is fine with me.”
You said it with steadfast conviction. Maybe, if you said it enough times, it would become true.
The wind rustled the leaves in the trees around you. It was actually a beautiful day. The warm rays of sunshine heated your back up, and Yoongi’s sympathetic smile was securely in place as always.
“Y/N...I had to. If you get to decide yourself you just dodge your issues and pretend they don't exist for all eternity. I can’t just stand by and witness it anymore, okay? Please just trust me. Everything isn’t fine with you.”
“Yeah it is,” you interjected stubbornly. You shook your head, shook it until nausea hit you and you just stumbled uselessly when trying to vocalize what you felt.
“It is, and I don’t want to go...it makes me feel sick. I don’t want to talk about it...I don’t want to be the person who has something wrong with them, Yoongi...I want to be normal.”
Your voice was suddenly saturated with hysteria and tears, and Yoongi was on you in an instant. Picking you up, just like he always did, collecting the pieces and patching you up again. You sobbed into his hoodie, and asked him, over and over again, why it was so hard.
“It’ll get easier,” Yoongi promised. He hugged you as you cried, while a warm breeze blew past and gently ruffled your hair and dried your cheeks. “It will. But not until you face it, hun.”
During the next few days, you spent a lot of time hunched over your laptop. Slogging your way through email after email, and doing your best to figure out exactly how far behind you were in your studies.
Really damn far turned out to be the answer.
You did his best to fix that, finishing up half-written essays and projects collecting dust on your hard drive until you were close to crying from the effort. All of this happened while Yoongi sat next to you, peering over your shoulder and making sure the process was moving forward. But it left you exhausted, and the list of assignments was mile-long.
“I’ll never have energy to finish all this...might as well drop out,” you whined, face buried in your hands, multiple times when it all felt too overwhelming. But Yoongi wasn't about to just accept that. Of course he wasn't.
“Nope, you sure as hell won’t,” was his stern reply to that. He was like an impenetrable wall you couldn't bulldoze your way through, and so you remained in front of the laptop, while his hawk eyes made sure your attention stayed on the screen.
Annoying. It was, but you had to admit it was effective. After many cups of espresso and bordering-on-meltdowns the list gradually shortened, and you were left slightly less stressed. But you’d transformed into a wet rag at the end of it, a wet rag that Yoongi transported to the couch and kissed and hugged and showered with compliments about how you were doing so well.
And it felt good, admittedly. Even though he must be lying through his teeth. His arms wrapped around you also felt great, and his gentle kisses made you all tingly – but that was the problem. He was too gentle. Too soft, like you were some kind of fragile flower to be handled with care.
Yet another week had passed since your almost-steamy-encounter on Yoongi’s couch. Another week’s worth of wet daydreams, of imagining the two of you in scenarios that stretched so much further than just kissing. Another week’s worth of not daring to make the first move.
Because without alcohol flowing through you, you remained much too shy and insecure, even though he was your boyfriend now.
The desire you felt for him made your blood pump faster, made your lower regions heat up. Every time Yoongi held you, every time he sat next to you with his elbows leaning on the table. Because you just wanted so badly for those veiny hands to undress you. To wrap around you. To travel further down and envelop you, all of you.
But at the same time, you were scared when imagining it.
Maybe Yoongi’s vision of you wouldn’t match the reality, the you hidden underneath the oversized sweaters and baggy sweatpants you’d worn for the past week. Maybe he would just see what you saw in the mirror.
Someone a little too gray and washed out, who didn’t get nearly enough sun and who lacked that rosy, healthy glow on their cheeks.
Maybe Yoongi’s feelings would even cool once he saw your body. Despite all the things he’d said for the past weeks about how you were gorgeous and beautiful and perfect.
The thought brought you close to tears.
You just felt like an illusion, about to crumble anytime now.
All of this messed things up, and soon you found yourself in bed. At 5PM on a Saturday evening. And all of Yoongi’s messages sat in your phone, unread and ignored since a good 24 hours.
You were pushing him away again, and it was just a matter of time until the doorbell would ring.
It did, like an ominous church bell ordering you to return to the land of the living. And you dragged yourself over the same damn floor, towards the same damn door, mentally preparing for yet another lecture by the same person you’d let down, again.
“Hey there, bun,” Yoongi greeted casually, leaning against the wall in the corridor when the door slid open. “What’s up? Ignoring my messages again?”
“Yes,” you confirmed dully. Unnecessary to pretend otherwise, and you were aware how wantonly snappy you sounded. Yoongi took absolutely zero notice of it. He looked stunning as ever, the dark hair slightly tousled by the wind and hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
Hands that still hadn’t touched you where you wanted them to and when would they?
You slammed the door with unnecessary force after Yoongi strode past you, causing him to turn around in surprise.
“Woah? Easy with that. Bad mood huh? Look kinda rough.”
“Yeah. I always look kinda rough, if you haven't noticed.”
“Hold it right there. Don’t twist it into something it’s not. I just meant you look a little tired.”
He gave you a sharp glance, a warning that clearly told you "don't even try to argue". You yielded, heaving unhappily.
“I’m sorry. I just...I wasn’t feeling well, and everything just felt shit, and...I couldn’t get out of it”
“Uhuh...that’s...kinda why you need some help, sweetie.”
“I don’t need help.”
You tried, but it was weak at this point. Yoongi closed in on you, raising a hand to cradle your cheek and sneaking the other one around the small of your back.
“Sorry to slap you with uncomfortable truths, but...yeah, you do. And I understand that your mood shifts and you want to be alone sometimes...but please don’t ignore my texts. You're making me sick with worry when you don't answer. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Alright, baby. So did you shower today?”
“No.”
“Eat?”
“No.”
“Y/N...that’s no good." He trapped you in a kiss, before separating you and giving you another look that left no room for arguing. "Come on. Go get showered or changed and whatever you need and let’s head to the shop.”
You huffed, turned and stomped off to your bedroom without a word.
Getting changed and going outdoors didn’t feel tempting at all. You dug through your closet, but once again there was nothing of use, because once again you'd failed to do the laundry. Because you’d been nestled in bed instead. And crawling into it again felt like a splendid idea now.
"How's it going over here?"
Yoongi had made an appearance in the doorway. He raised a critical eyebrow, skeptically eyeing the pajama shorts and coffee-stained t-shirt you were still wearing. You just stared blankly ahead, cross legged on the bed and not about to move another inch if you could avoid it.
"Badly. Have nothing to wear and I'm hideous."
You knew how that sounded, oh you knew. But you could do absolutely zilch to prevent it. Yoongi closed the distance between you, his gaze oddly dark, like a looming thunderstorm.
"Stop saying those things about yourself."
You bounced up, gurgling with unidentified frustration you just couldn’t seem to kick.
"No. Because it's true."
“It's really not. I understand it feels true to you. But you’re stuck with these ideas about yourself, because you’re seeing everything through a skewed lens. That makes you overly critical of yourself. Understand, baby?”
“Nope. You’re fucking wrong.”
Yoongi's finger on your mouth silenced you. He was right in front of you now, and he leaned in until his lips brushed over your ear.
"You're not hideous. Get that through your thick skull."
And then he pulled back, and kissed you. And it wasn't gentle. In fact it was everything but gentle. It was demanding, his tongue finding its way into your mouth and his fingers weaving themselves into your hair and his nails scraping over your scalp.
When you finally parted, your body was already in overdrive, your pulse crashing through your veins and your lower regions practically on fire and thumping almost painfully.
"Think it's about time I touched you, huh,” Yoongi pondered, eyes half-lidded and with his finger pressed down on your lower lip.
You just swallowed, whining something that sounded like "uhuh" in response. Yoongi's hands were all over you in an instant. He swung you around with your back facing him, and moved your hair out of the way so he could press feather light kisses down the junction of your neck. You were lost, to the unexpected shivers worming all over your skin, lost until you heard a request that made your knees weak.
"Is it okay if I take off your clothes?"
"Ye– yeah," you managed, without really thinking. There was just a split second of self-consciousness, and then your shirt was pulled over your head, your shorts hiked down – and you were bare, save for your underwear. You went rigid for a second, shielding yourself, but Yoongi untangled you quickly.
"Nah, none of that. Don’t do that. Let me see you."
He looped his own arms around your waist, and sprinkled kisses all over your exposed skin – your shoulders, your jawline, everywhere he could reach. And then, he spun both of you around. Facing the full length mirror, the one you’d been about to throw out so many times now.
"Look at yourself."
You looked. And looked away the next second. You saw yourself, the body you hadn’t studied for a while. You saw your skin illuminated by the lamplight, showing every little imperfection in unforgiving technicolor. And you saw Yoongi's toned arms blanketing you.
"Yeah, I'm looking. What's there to see? I'm, just...whatever. Just...meh."
"No. Not meh. Everything but meh. Stubborn, a little bratty, but definitely not meh."
He forked fingers into your hair, yanking you back to stress the fact.
"Or ugly. Or useless Or anything negative you want to imagine. I know you don’t see it yourself, but trust me, then. Can you do that?"
“Maybe.”
^^^^^^^^
You couldn’t, still – but you were coming undone, basically unable to speak, unable to do anything but succumb to Yoongi's voice and touch and tongue leaving goosebumps all over your skin.
Your breaths picked up as he unhooked your bra, sliding it off and throwing it to the side. You let out a pitchy whimper and dropped your gaze as he cupped your breasts. One by one, gently caressing them and rolling the pink buds between his fingers.
“Beautiful. Beautiful and mine,” he whispered into your hair.
He kept one hand loosely around your throat, while the other traveled down your spine – down, down down and all the way down. There, he gathered one of your asscheeks into his hand, squeezing possessively and pressing his own, very blatant boner against your ass.
“This too,” he purred cheekily, a little louder, and slapped it once, very lightly.
And you choked.
Well, nearly. Choked on the feeling of the pulsating, warm and very real body pushed up against you. It infused you with a craving that practically hurt, and you gasped in surprise when Yoongi’s hand snaked its way to your front, sliding down to part your thighs. He nibbled on your neck, while his fingers found your clit, lightly brushing over it and drawing moan after bated moan from you.
"You're hot, okay. I love your face, I love your body, I love your personality, you’re gorgeous and don't ever doubt that." Yoongi murmured, while stroking you through your underwear and holding you steady with his free hand. "I've wanted to fuck you for ages."
Oh shit. Okay. All you could do was whimper needily in response. The sinful confessions into your ear made your head spin violently – and that voice. Surely couldn’t belong to Yoongi – it was too husky, just oozing dominance – but it did. It did and it seeped right into every corner of you, into every cell of your body all the way into your fingertips and not least, your crotch.
And you felt like you might suffocate from the pressure. From Yoongi's fingers rubbing teasing circles all over you, his breath hot and wet against the nape of your neck.
"I want to see you too,” you whined, wrenching yourself loose and pawing desperately at his t-shirt.
"Sure thing, baby.”
You held your breath while his clothes were discarded. Shirt, jeans, briefs, and then he stood there, stripped in front of you. Not just a smudgy almost-Yoongi in one of your vivid dreams, but the real Yoongi. With a heinous twinkle playing in his mischievous eyes, his posture self-assured and his dick half-hard and smooth and...actually a little menacingly thick in girth.
You swallowed down the nervously flapping butterflies, and stepped forward, tentatively running hands all down his pale chest and around his back and his ass and absolutely everywhere.
You’d imagined this man naked so many times. All throughout your adolescence, and now that it finally happened, it felt like some trippy dream.
"God, you’re fucking...beautiful, Yoongi.”
"Says you.”
He grabbed you, kissing you and pressing the two of you together, with his hands firmly on your ass. And you heated up to scorching temperatures, while your brain was filled with only one thought.
“I want you.”
“Want you too. But we’re taking it slow.”
You grumbled, but he just briefly let his finger travel into your mouth, and smirked in response when you sucked on it like it was a lollipop. Then, you were hauled up and lowered onto the bed on your back, and turned into a shivering, whimpering wreck of a person. Yoongi kissed you, pushing his tongue in to drag it over the roof of your mouth, and continuing down your torso, your chest, your tummy until you shivered pleasantly underneath him.
He mumbled little words of praise at you while he went, and your breath came out shorter and shorter the further down he traveled. Soon he had to tell you to remember to even breathe.
“Relax. You’re so pretty, been wanting you for so long.”
He parted your legs gently, wrapping his hand around your thigh and sucking teasing love bites into the sensitive skin until you were almost crying from the sensation.
“Want me to touch you, baby? Can I take these off?”
You curled your spine against the sheets, desperate for him to just do it already. “Yeah – yeah. Please.”
"Good. Cause I'm really dying to."
Your panties slid off, finally, and Yoongi crawled between your legs, blinking up at you, dark eyes clouded with lust and tousled bangs falling into his forehead. All of you was practically vibrating, filled with electricity sprouting underneath the tips of his fingers as he rested one hand on your tummy and settled the other one between your legs.
“Look at you...already so wet for me.” He spread you with a thumb, sliding it between your lips, and you whined in response. Not like he was wrong. You’d basically been soaking wet since that first kiss. “So pretty. I want to make you feel good, hun. Can I eat you out? Do you want that?”
You nodded frantically. You could feel your release literally around the corner, and whatever Yoongi was about to do to you would lure it out at record speed. He offered you one of his gummy grins, gripping your thighs with both hands for leverage and pushed his pink tongue out, dragging it all over your clit and making you cringe against the sheets.
“God – Yoongi, holy shit-”
“You taste good. Fucking sexy as hell.”
You didn’t care about restraining yourself anymore. You allowed yourself to moan unabashedly while he sucked on your clit, and tantalized you by pushing his tongue into you and pulling it out the next second.
You hadn't been touched for so long, you hadn't come for so long . An eternity. And now you watched, eyes feverish, as Yoongi turned you into a slobbering mess in minutes. Your orgasm was close, and Yoongi must have felt it, because he quickly pulled back, lips glistening and cheeks flushed.
Next you felt his fingers teasing your entrance, and he threw you a quick, questioning glance and asked, voice hushed and dripping with lust, if it was okay. You hurried to nod again, crying out when he pushed a finger into you, slowly gliding over your walls and filling you up, while his thumb rubbed against your clit. Settling on his knees, he threw one of your legs up and squeezed your thigh as he started finger-fucking you, slowly but surely.
You couldn’t help but wonder, amidst all the hazy pleasure, how the hell he was that skilled with his hands.
Probably because he was experienced. You knew he’d had kind-of-girlfriends, but maybe he'd even had multiple partners. That thought made you irrationally jealous, once again, and also worried you’d appear like a rookie in comparison.
But those thoughts were quickly washed away, for now, as Yoongi hit the spot again, and a pitchy whimper escaped you, echoing through the whole bedroom.
“You’re tight,” he hummed, gaze heavy on you. “How’s that? Feels good?”
“Y– yeah...feels great…”
Your neck cringed, your hands gripping the sheets as he picked up the pace, before adding a second finger. Soon he had two of them knuckle-deep in you, fucking you while working your clit while you squirmed against him to create even more friction. You watched him, his lustful dark eyes plastered on you, the veins in his arms tensing as he brought you closer and closer.
"Yoongi...I'm gonna...c-come...if you keep doing that–"
"Well that's the goal, right? You're moaning so prettily, turning me wild," Yoongi teased, leaning forward. He positioned himself half-laying on top of you, so he was able to reach your quivering lips while his fingers slid in and out of you.
He kissed you hungrily, and you could feel his cock poking you in the side. You glanced down. There it was, all stiff and veiny and fully erect and – damn.
Yoongi wanted to fuck you with that.
You pictured it, and then you were done for.
"Coming?"
"Uhuh..."
"Go on, baby girl.”
Well. That did it. You shuddered your way through your release, spasming against Yoongi’s fingers and crying out a lewd and elongated “fuck” as you came. You faintly heard Yoongi mumbling something as you rode it out, and then you collapsed into the mattress. Completely drained, and with your chest heaving and droplets of sweat running down your neck.
^^^^^^^^
Yoongi pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, and withdrew his hand. "You okay, pumpkin?"
You nodded wordlessly, slow waves of pleasure still rippling through you. Yoongi sneaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against himself and squeezing you tightly.
"See why I wanted to take it slow now? Yikes...you look like you just finished a marathon. Didn't take you very long.”
He nuzzled into your hair, and you weren’t even able to provide anything coherent in response yet. Soon he announced he was taking you to shower, and before you could protest you’d been scooped up and carried off, bridal-style.
The shower was turned on, and you were dazed when jostled into position underneath the spray of water. It splashed down between the two of you, heating you up as you rested your head against Yoongi’s chest, just enjoying the warmth and being so close to him for now.
He pushed strands of soaked hair out of your forehead, and propped you up more securely when you were in danger of sagging to the floor. "Are you alright, sweetness?”
“Yeah...sorry, it’s been a while since I, uh…was...touched...”
You quietened, bashfully pushing your nose against his chest again to avoid meeting his eyes. He gave a little chuckle, and ran his hands all over your back in reassuring circles.
“Yeah, I figured. That’s okay. Just take it easy, baby. I’ll take care of you, don't worry.”
Yoongi gathered you into his arms, and your throbbing muscles were soothed by the flow of hot water. But you also felt a rigid boner poking your thigh, still. Belonging to him.
You peeked down at it. It was a little intimidating, but you were also eager to return the favor. Even though your tummy turned into slush at the thought of doing something wrong.
You swallowed down a lump, and Yoongi noticed your hesitance.
“Y/N. Just relax.”
"You're still hard though, I can –"
"Yeah, duh, I'm hard,” Yoongi chuckled, and pressed a tender kiss to your lips to shut you up. “...cause that was hot,” he added, and your cheeks instantly turned tomato-red.
"But we got all the time in the world. I can wait. You're the most important, bun."
"Fine, ugh...okay."
You burrowed into his chest, letting out a soft moan when he squeezed some shampoo out and started massaging it into your scalp. Yep. You could definitely see yourself getting used to this.
