Enjoying the spoils of her trick or treating victory #oxanamarie #littlebit #thefinalsquish #chunkypeanutbutter https://www.instagram.com/p/B4WgGtqBg80/?igshid=195dojbgc48r4
→ grumpy policeman!yoongi au, childhoodfriends!au aka extreme fluff, rated because it gets a little smexy but just some kissing and heavy handed touch touch
→ 3k words, part 1, part 2
a/n: know ya’ll wanted it at some point
“Don’t be stupid, y/n.” Yoongi rolls his eyes again for the third time that night.
You whine, pouting like a little child and crossing your arms and legs on his couch. You can feel it, the shameful petulant wave of hatred and tantrums welling up in you but you can’t help it, the childish attitude welling up in the way you purse your lips and crinkle your nose and glare up at him. He just slumps in the entrance of his living room, watching you boredly.
“Just let me sleepover!” You whine, throwing the pillow on the floor. “We’re dating now, aren’t we? That’s why you brought me those stupid flowers and held my hand, so why can’t you just sleepover? It’s not like I haven’t stayed here overnight before!”
He sighs, looking up at the ceiling like there’s something there that’ll help him get through your tantrum. “Jesus,” he breathes, zeroing back in on you with dark eyes. “I told you, that it was just because the culprit was out for you. Now he’s caught, and you’re safe, the whole town’s safe. Go home,” he jingles his keys in his pocket for extra effect. “I’ll drive you. Go sleep in your own bed.”
You pout, tears prickling at your eyes. It wasn’t because you were a week away from getting your period, no. It also wasn’t because you were hungry, or bored, or desperate, even. It was because earlier today, you’d been with a group of friends and they’d gushed about how romantic and cute it was to have their boyfriends make up all kinds of dumb excuses to stay over their homes.
But for you, it was straight out embarrassing. Not only did Yoongi ever stay over your place, but after the case was closed and the murderer caught, he’d refused to let you stay over anywhere past 9:00pm, and had barely even held your hand ever since the both of you started dating a few weeks ago.
“Do you not like me?” You whisper, a single tear trailing down your cheek.
“Oh my god,” Yoongi huffs, stumbling from his standing position to next to you on the couch, “What are you even saying right now.”
“See? You’re mad at me, you hate me. You don’t even want me.” You pout, tears now trailing down faster than ever and Yoongi’s nostrils flare as he tries to collect himself.
“Y/N,” he says carefully, looking down at you without contempt, but more a softness that you haven’t seen since the day he reluctantly asked you out. “Did I not ask you to be mine?”
“You did.”
“I did,” he hums, reaching up to wipe a few tears away. “And I meant it. Now why do you think I hate you?”
“Because,” you wail, fisting at your eyes embarrassedly, “Because you don’t ever make excuses to stay at my place and you never let me stay here. You haven’t even kissed me and I don’t know if you want me to do it first or something because you’re definitely out of my league and–”
“What?” Yoongi gruffs, grabbing your wrists and tugging them quickly away from your eyes. “Look at me,” he commands, when your gaze immediately drops to your lap on instinct. “Y/N, I said look at me.”
You raise your gaze to his, watery eyes meeting the way he gazes at you with determination. “What did you just say? That last part.”
“Y-you don’t w-want me,” You hiccup, lashes thick with tears. “You don’t want to kiss me. You don’t even wanna stay over and do stuff with me. It’s because I’m ugly, and fat, and I’ve always been out of your league,” you emphasize the insults with sobs, and Yoongi just watches you as you fall apart. “Hani says that her boyfriend makes up all sort of dumb cute reasons to stay over, like to get a cup of coffee at midnight or to watch the next season of Stranger Things, but every time its 9 you always say I should leave or you leave my house and–”
Suddenly, Yoongi’s hands come off your wrists, encasing your jaw in them and tugging you forward while he leans in. You’re caught mid-sentence as he presses his lips to yours hotly, thin lips covering yours and moving immediately, taking advantage of your already open mouth to lick lasvisciously onto your lips.
It’s wet, and hot, and absolutely breathtaking. Those words are all you can describe your first kiss. He breathes into you and steals the breath right out of your lips and swallows them hole, tilting his head and angling his jaw right against yours and pressing in with a desperation and want that you’ve never ever seen or heard or felt from Min Yoongi. His hands curl in the base of your neck, gathering and twisting firmly at the hairs there, anchoring you to him. Your hands flutter to his shoulders in surprise and he groans at the way your torso is exposed to him, and a hand cards down the expanse of your back, and presses firmly, molding you to him. He feels so hard and firm under your softness and you can’t help but fist your fingers in the material of his coat at the sensation.
You let out a tiny mewl at the feeling of his teeth scraping lightly over your lower lip, followed by his tongue snaking over the sensitive flesh of your lips in a half-apology, and Min Yoongi practically moans into your mouth, a huff of air releasing as he detaches from you in a hot wet sound that has you red from your toes to your ears.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and your eyes widen, because his voice is hoarse and grainy like when he wakes up and you feel it in the depths of your stomach that if you die right here, you’d be happy. You want to spend the rest of your life making his voice sound like that.
He makes eye contact with you, eyes and pupils blown out of proportion as he gazes hungrily back at you and before you can even say anything, he climbs over you, knee swinging on the other side of your thigh, caging you in legs and torso to the couch, and leans down again to swallow your lips in his.
His lips caress yours gently, first, but then become bolder, pressing in with that familiar pressure and passion that you’d noticed earlier. He groans when your hands card around his thin middle and wrap around his waist, fingers passing through your hair tie to pull the elastic from its ponytail and letting your hair flow past his fingers where he grips tight to the strands. He changes his angle, guiding your face with his hand on your jaw, thumb coming up to press down against your chin so your jaw opens a tiny bit more, and he takes advantage of the extra space to actually explore your mouth.
It comes and goes, his tongue, sweeping boldly across your lips and past your teeth, and then darting back when you chase after it, licking softly and widely, wetting your lips and making the kiss feel even softer and wetter. His lips are a bit chapped but you don’t even notice. Kissing Yoongi is like a drug. Your mind is completely empty except the thought of Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi, and your body and hands and breathe respond correspondently to the stimuli that is currently kneeling over you.
You can feel him, feel him tonguing at your lips and skimming over your tongue and teeth, feel the heat emanating off of him at where your hands splay on his back, trying to bring him closer to you, feel him fisting at the sensitive baby hairs on the back of your neck. His thumb stays on your chin, making sure you don’t close your mouth so he can keep kissing you like this. You can hear it, which is the most erotic thing you’ve ever felt, hear the way he groans lightly against your lips and the wet sounds of his lips passing over yours continuously. You can even smell him, the deep scent of him that’s just so specifically Yoongi, one that makes your head spin and your eyes roll back into your head. Your eyes are closed, but all you can see is him.
He detaches from your lips, wet and hot lips skimming over your cheek and down to the crook between your jaw and your ear, breathing hotly over the sensitive flesh and kissing it open-mouthed, groaning at the light scent of your body wash in the area, and scraping his teeth teasingly over the area. He bites your ear gently, and you gasp, hands flying to his neck, fisting simultaenously into his hair, holding on for dear life as he sends tingles and goosebumps all over your body that collect in the apex of your thighs and deep within your belly. He incites a feeling in you that you’ve never felt before, a deep urge and a desperation, an itch, a yearning to be touched and to never stop.
He groans, hands untwisting from your hair as he moves down the juncture of your neck and settles at the collar of your shirt, a finger hooking in the neck and dragging it down a couple inches so he can attach his lips to the bone of your collarbone. He gets tired of the position, and you feel his hands snake around the small of your waist before you’re lifted up from the couch in a rush of light and colors and suddenly, he’s sitting where you were and you’re perched on top of him, knees cradling right next to his thighs.
Yoongi doesn’t even give you a chance to think more before he leans forward, back detaching from the couch and mouth immediatley seeking out the new skin he finds when he tugs down on your collar. The other hand is still anchored on the small of your back, pressing your entire torso against his own, and you finally relent to the weight of kneeling up and sit.
Oh.
There, when you let your weight rest on his lap, you feel the hardness of something poking into your inner thigh, cradled right where all your desperation and urgency is pooled. There’s an immediate reaction from the both of you, your back arches and your mouth falls open in a silent plea as a little bit of the tight knot that was clenching in your lower stomach untightens a bit, the relief flooding through your limbs and sending shockwaves of pleasure through your eyes. It’s immediately gratifying, and you blindly seek that sensation again as you let your hips rise an inch and grind down again on the stiffness.
Yoongi simultaneously growls, the tight reign he had on his control slipping immediately when he feels the hotness of the space between your thighs sitting right on top of his dick, and he immediately falters in his kissing, hands flying to your hips to anchor you there, stopping you from doing anything further that he might regret, and also keeping you still because he’d basically rather die than lose that stimulation.
“S-stop,” he grits, voice hoarse and with a groan of exasperation and relief that you’ve never heard before. “B-before I do something I will regret. Oh my god,” he breathes out over your skin, making you shudder from both the relief, and the headiness of his voice. The sensations of his breath rolling over your wet skin makes your back arch against the firm grip of his hands over your hips.
“Oh my god,” you breathe out, panting like you just ran a marathon, “Yoongi, oh my god.” You lean down, gripping his jaw in yours and kissing him again, stumbling through the motions but not really caring because all you want is to feel him on you again.
He detaches, chuckling a little bit when you accidentally clack your teeth against his, and you frown sheepishly as he reaches up and wipes a bit of gloss off your lips with his thumb.
“Do you know now?” He whispers, grating voice only a few inches away from your lips.
“Huh?” You ask dumbly, eyes still staring at his lips and flitting back and forth to the way he gazes at you like you’re the center of his world. It doesn’t help the wetness that’s currently pooling in your panties.
“Do you understand now, the way you make me feel?” He grits, but his expression is in such awe that you can’t even register the hardness in his tone. It’s reigned back, put under lock and key and behind bars (literally), his control. He’d never ever let it slip without his permission. “You make me feel like this, you make me go crazy. You make me break my rules, and you make me want to hold you like this forever. And do unspeakable, nasty things to you. You make me want to ruin you, so that you can never ever look at a guy the same way again because all you’ll think about is me. You make me want to handcuff you to my bed and keep you there for days and make you cum endlessly around me and my mouth and my fingers, and I want to hear you say my name like it’s the last thing you’ll ever say. You make me crazy, y/n,” He says, breathing and taking up your shocked expression with a grin.
“But I love you too much, to do those things to you right now. We only just started dating. Let me do it the right way, this time. I always fucked things up with you, ignoring you and always brushing you aside. But I want to get it right. I want to take you out on dates, and kiss you goodnight and wait until I get a ring on your finger before I take anything thats yours permanently. I want to work hard and buy you a house and maybe a dog if I decide to put up with it. I want to get it right. Because you deserve it. Every single little detail. Every little bit. You deserve all of it.”
You’re crying, and you don’t know if you’ll ever love a man like this ever again in your life and you’re sure that those years and years of pining after him like an idiot was so worth it because having Min Yoongi vocalize something like this was like a never ending rollercoaster of joy and happiness and giddiness and reassurance. And you know deep down in your heart, that he means it, and that he wants it.
“Okay,” you whisper, laughing a little bit at the way he wipes your tears and grins up at you and kisses your nose softly, all the hot and dark desperation now turning into little butterflies and clouds within your heart.
“Good girl,” he says, smiling up at you tiredly, eyes still dark and heavy, but his lips are curled up in a smile.
“But promise one thing,” you add, small hands coming up to cradle his jaw.
“Hmm?” He says, leaning his jaw in a little to fit his cheek better into your palm.
“Promise we’ll still do some kissing though. And a lot more.”
He laughs, hands wrapping around your waist to lift you off his lap and pull both you to a standing position. He leans down and kisses you one last time, arm wrapping around your shoulders to angle you up to him and tenderly pressing his lips against yours. “Of course,” he grates against your lips, “We’re gonna touch all the bases.”
