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rottingbedpost · 17 hours ago

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fill the void | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ REQUEST: idk any yoongi drabble would be cool, a similar one to the “i’m not done yet” chapter from “take a bite” would be😗

✧ TAGS: established relationship, yoongi and MC get nasty in the genius lab, that's the whole fic, smut (MINORS DNI)

✧ WARNINGS: established d/s dynamics, spanking, orgasm denial, vaginal fingering, oral (m. receiving), vaginal sex, dirty talk, overstimulation, some implied consent and some explicit consent, idk if i'm missing anything so if i am just lmk

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: this request was sent in with proof of donation to an organization giving aid to palestine! i am still taking these requests, so see this post if you're interested in sending one in! thank you to the person who made this request <3 i didn't expect to get it done so quickly but then we got NEW YOONGI CONTENT and i was possessed by ghosts. i hope you enjoy!

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.7k words

It’s past midnight, but he’s awake, just like you knew he would be.

The only light in his studio, aside from a lamp in the corner, spills from the monitors on his desk. It casts pale blue shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose.

Yoongi doesn’t look up when the door clicks shut behind you.

He’s too immersed, headphones covering his ears as he sits hunched over his Boden, strumming strings with one hand while the other works over the fretboard. You watch the crease between his brows deepen in focus, his head bobbing along to the guide track spilling into his ears.

You slip in quietly after you slip your shoes off, and you pause in the doorway for a moment, just watching him. You bite your lip, heart aching. He looks beautiful, albeit tired. He’s comfortable. Focused. You hate to disturb him when he’s like this.

But he hasn’t texted back much this month, and when he has, he’s only been able to manage short replies—delayed, distracted. You tried not to take it personally. You knew what you signed up for, what his work can be like when he’s on deadline.

But still. You’ve missed him terribly.

You step in and let the door fall shut with a gentle click, and Yoongi glances up immediately. His whole face softens when he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and hoarse from disuse. He slips his headphones off his ears, setting them down on the couch beside him.

“Hi,” you whisper, walking over. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“S’okay. What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

“Shit.” He blinks, squinting at the bottom right corner of his laptop screen to confirm. “Sorry.”

You shake your head in response. His guitar is still in his lap, but you nudge between his knees anyway, and he leans in, hand finding your waist like it’s instinct. You cradle his jaw and press your mouth to his. It’s just a soft kiss, nothing hungry or urgent yet—despite feeling that, too. Just a hi, I missed you. Remember me?

“Missed you,” he mumbles, his voice rumbling against your skin. “Fuck. I’ve been such a dick, huh.”

You shake your head, fingers carding through his hair. “You haven’t,” you insist, mouth twitching at the sight of the pout forming on his lips. “You look tired, though.”

“‘Cause I am,” he sighs, leaning into your touch. “Been working.”

“I know,” you say. “That’s why I haven’t come by. Didn’t wanna distract you.”

Yoongi tilts his head back, amused. “And yet…”

“I broke,” you admit. “I missed you. Missed your face.” You slip your arms around his neck, nosing into the collar of his jacket. “You smell so good.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer by the waist. “You’re being cute.”

You hum, momentarily sated by his proximity. Everything is still. Warm. For a moment, it feels like just having your hands on him will be enough.

But the longer you stand there, the more unbearable it gets. The familiar, addicting scent of him. The warmth of his breath through the thin fabric of your shirt. The way he nuzzles into your chest and practically purrs at the way you’re touching him.

Your thighs rub together, just a little. You’re trying not to squirm, but you’re so keyed up. The ache between your legs has been building for weeks, and now that he’s here in front of you—real, warm, touchable—it’s like every nerve ending is screaming for more.

You try to play it off, but he sees right through you. His eyes flick over your face like he’s reading it line by line.

“Baby,” he starts, coaxing. “What’ve you been up to while I’ve been gone, hm?”

You swallow. There is a rule.

When you first started sleeping together—back before things even had a name, back when it was still new and messy and thrilling—you’d had a conversation. Likes and dislikes.

You were so nervous. Embarrassed, even, as you told him all the things you were usually too shy to bring up with men in the past. You thought he might laugh at you, or look at you differently, or worst of all—think less of you.

But Yoongi didn’t even flinch. Instead, he nodded through your stuttered admissions, fingers laced with yours, brushing your knuckles with his thumb like none of it was a big deal.

He’d just hummed, nodded slowly. “None of that’s a problem,” he’d said. “If anything, it’s perfect.”

You’d preened a little at the word choice, already glowing. And then, when you shyly asked him what he liked, he just shrugged. “I like making you come,” he’d said simply.

You laughed then. “That’s it?”

His smile was small. Shy, even. “I like knowing it’s me that gets you there. Even when I’m not around.” Then he added, “If you’re into it… I want you to ask first. Even when you’re alone.”

You’d agreed like it was nothing. Like that was the easiest thing in the world. Okay, you’d said, flustered and warm and wide-eyed with new want.

You hadn’t known how hard it would be. You hadn’t realized how much you’d crave him when he wasn’t there. How badly you’d ache for his voice, his hands, his permission.

“You been good for me?” he asks now.

You chew on your bottom lip for a second, shifting from foot to foot. “Yeah.”

Yoongi’s brows lift. “Yeah?” he asks, unconvinced.

“Mhm.” You feel warm all over. “I’ve just… I’ve been laying in bed all alone at night, and I miss you, and—”

“You been touching yourself?”

“No,” you lie instantly, heart pounding.

Yoongi levels you with a look. “Baby.”

“I—” You swallow. “I tried not to. I waited as long as I could, but it’s been weeks, Yoongi. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“So you did,” he says, clarifying.

You hesitate. For a moment, there’s a dumb impulse to keep lying. To say it was just once, or not really at all. But you know better. Yoongi knows you too well.

“...Yes,” you finally admit, dropping his gaze.

He clicks his tongue, low and disappointed.

“I know,” you say, voice barely audible. “I just… couldn’t help it.”

He nudges your chin up with his knuckles, redirecting your eyes to his. “Did you think about me when you did it?”

“Of course I did,” you whine, cheeks hot with shame. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t the same without you.”

Yoongi closes his eyes for a second, taking a breath. When he opens them again, his jaw is tight. He sets the guitar aside, rising from his seat.

Your stomach flips. You know that look.

“I missed you,” you breathe, trying to offer something to anchor him to tenderness. “I just—”

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he interrupts, walking you backwards towards his desk as he speaks. “I missed you, too. So much I was gonna be sweet to you tonight. Was gonna kiss you, nap with you on the couch, maybe let you ride me.”

Your thighs squeeze together again at the thought. He catches the movement, his tongue running over his teeth.

“But,” he continues, shaking his head in disappointment. “Now I have to punish you, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, heat flooding your cheeks. “Yoongi…”

“It’s your fault, really,” he muses. His hands are gentle as he turns you around by the shoulders. “You’re not giving me much choice, are you?”

He presses down on your back, and you follow the motion until you’re bent over the desk. His other hand cups your ass, giving it a testing squeeze before moving on to yank your leggings down your thighs.

You know better than to test him when he’s like this. He’s so soft with you most of the time. Your Yoongi, so gentle and careful and sweet—but when you break his rules? When you really test him? He can be so mean. Capable of handing out punishment so nasty it makes your head spin.

You’re on the line, right now. It could really go either way, and it’s the not knowing that thrills you. Which Yoongi are you going to get this time?

Then, as if he can read your mind, crack—his palm connects with your ass, hot and firm and startling. You gasp, eyes fluttering shut.

“That one’s for coming without permission,” Yoongi says.

Another smack, harder than the first. “That one’s for trying to lie about it.”

Another. “And that—” he grips your hips and pulls you back against him, so you can feel the hard line of his cock through denim. “That one’s for thinking I wouldn’t find out.”

You’re whimpering now, not even trying to be quiet.

“Color?” he rasps, his lips pressed against the back of your neck now.

“Green,” you whisper. “Fuck, green.”

He wraps an arm around you, forcing your stance to widen as he prods at the soaked gusset of your panties. “All this for me?”

“Always,” you breathe, moaning when he hooks the fabric aside to feel you properly. “Just for you.”

Yoongi hums, pleased. “I really shouldn’t let you have what you want this easily,” he muses. “But you’re dripping all over my fucking hand, baby.”

He presses two fingers inside you slowly, knuckle-deep. His other hand spreads across your lower back, holding you still as he begins to fuck you on his fingers, unhurried and curling just right.

“Oh my god,” you moan, grasping desperately at the edge of the desk.

“Feels good?” he murmurs knowingly.

“Yes, fuck!”

His fingers drag over that soft, spongy spot inside you with precision that borders on cruel. You squirm under the weight of it, hips shifting involuntarily to chase the pressure, mouth falling open on a broken sob.

“Right there, huh?” Yoongi whispers, almost mockingly. “So needy. Bet you were touching yourself just like this, thinking about me doing it instead.”

“Yoongi—”

He curls his fingers just right again and you nearly scream. You’re right there, hips stuttering, thighs trembling, about to come so hard you’ll see white.

But then his hand slips away.

“No,” you gasp. “No, please—”

“Uh-uh.” Yoongi wipes his fingers on your thigh like he owns you. “You come when I say. Not a second before.”

Your pussy flutters around nothing, aching to be filled again. Tears well hot behind your eyes.

“Turn around,” he says.

You do as he says, thighs trembling as you face him. Yoongi cups your face with both hands.

“Next time you miss me,” he murmurs, “you come here. You ask. You tell me how bad you need it. You don’t go touching yourself behind my back like a brat.”

You nod fast. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t mean to be bad—”

“I know you didn’t.” His lips brush yours. “But you were.”

He kisses you like he means to ruin you—rough and mean, teeth catching your bottom lip. Then his touch gentles. He cradles the back of your head, kisses the tip of your nose.

“On your knees, baby.”

You drop without hesitation. Your hands rest on your thighs, your posture obedient and eager. Yoongi smirks, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to the couch.

You’re already drooling a little when he walks over, palming himself through his jeans. His fingers make quick work of his belt, and he gets his jeans and briefs down just enough to free his cock, flushed and heavy.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, brushing the head of his cock over your lips. “You gonna be good now?”

“Yes,” you breathe, kissing the tip sweetly. “I’ll be good.”

Yoongi hums, satisfied. His free hand finds yours, guiding it to rest on the side of his thigh. “Tap if it’s too much,” he says gently, thumbing at your bottom lip. “But I know you. I know you can take it.”

And then he slides in. He goes slow at first, just the tip resting on your tongue, then deeper, until your eyes are watering and your throat’s trying to catch up. You gag a little, and he shushes you softly, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“There you go,” he murmurs. “Doing so good for me. Just needed a reminder, huh?”

You moan around him, and he groans low in his chest.

He pulls back just enough to let you breathe, then presses in again, this time with a little more force. Your throat tightens, and he feels it. You know he does. His fingers twitch in your hair. His other hand braces against the desk behind you, holding him steady while he uses your mouth.

“Been thinking about this all week,” he says, jaw tight. “Your mouth’s so fucking perfect, fuck.”

You’re a mess already. Spit smeared across your chin, tears brimming, thighs pressed tight together like you can do something about the throbbing between them. He’s not even touching you there. Not yet. He hasn’t let you earn it.

He groans again, hips rocking a little harder, a little deeper.

Then, all at once, he pulls back. You whine as his cock falls from your lips, glistening and wet. You cough once, catching your breath, and he strokes your hair away from your face with that same gentle touch.

He cups your jaw with one hand, thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. “You want more?” he asks quietly.

You nod, eyes wide and glossy.

He helps you up, then pulls you the few steps it takes to get to the couch. He sits down and drags you into his lap like you weigh nothing.

“Fuck,” he mutters, palming your ass, pressing you down against the heat of his cock. “You’re shaking.”

“I need you,” you whisper, clinging to his shoulders. “Yoongi, please.”

He leans in, nose brushing yours. “I should make you wait,” he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Should keep you on edge for hours. Rub that needy little clit until you’re crying, leave your cunt empty until you’re begging for my cock.”

His cock nudges at your entrance, teasing the mess between your legs, and your whole body jolts in his lap. Yoongi laughs, teasing your clit meanly.

“Yeah, I should. But,” he murmurs, voice dropping, “I missed you too much.”

You clutch at his shoulders, taking shuddery breaths as he plays with you.

“Missed your sounds,” he says, kissing your cheek now. “Missed the way you go dumb for me.”

The head of his cock pushes just barely inside, and you gasp, mouth falling open.

“Missed this sweet little cunt,” he whispers, brushing your hair back so he can kiss your jaw. “Wanna fuck it too bad to wait.”

And then he pushes the rest of the way in, so slow and steady and deep that you see stars.

You cry out, hands fisting in his shirt. “Fuuuck, Yoongi—”

“I know, baby,” he pants, gripping your hips as he starts to fuck you properly. “Shh, I know. I got you.”

You’re already clenching around him, already so close it’s fucking embarrassing, but he doesn’t tease you for it. Doesn’t stop. Just kisses your shoulder, your throat, your lips, and fucks up into you with rough snaps of his hips.

“Been thinking about this all month,” he groans. “You’re so fucking tight, baby, holy shit. I can feel how bad you needed it.”

You nod, whimpering, meeting every thrust like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

“Go ahead,” he breathes against your ear. “Come for me, sweet girl. You’ve been so good. You waited so long.”

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave, all heat and ache and longing, boiling over into a cry that sounds too raw to be pretty. Your whole body shudders in his arms, cunt clenching tight around his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Yoongi pants. “That’s my girl. Shit—look at you.”

You sob out something incoherent, shaking as he fucks you through your overstimulation. You don't even realize you're crying until he wipes your cheeks with his thumbs and kisses you softly.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs against your lips. “I got you. I’ve got you, baby. What’s your color, hm?”

“G-green,” you manage, swallowing thickly. “‘M green.”

“You still with me?” he asks, pressing his forehead to yours. “Still got another one in you?”

“Yeah. I-I can—”

“I know you can,” he croons, grinding his hips up again so you gasp. “My good girl. My best girl.”

His hand snakes between your bodies, sliding down to your clit, rubbing soft, tight circles that make your eyes roll back in your skull.

“You’ve got a month’s worth of orgasms to catch up on, baby,” he says. “Let me make it up to you.”

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this fic! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

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#all i gotta say rn

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rottingbedpost · 21 hours ago