Everyone had warned you about the silver haired boy, all of your friends yelling at you day in and day out that this boy was bad news – that nothing good was to come of your close relationship with him. You knew they were right, you knew that you were just going to end up getting hurt by the devil himself – but you couldn’t care less. Not when he made you feel more things than any other boy has before. Sure, he was intimidating; always a fierce glint in his deep brown eyes, a somewhat permanent frown on his face, and the ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ stature of his body whenever he strolled down the hallways. But Yoongi had a side that he only showed you, a side that was far too intoxicating and addictive to give up.
You let them talk, half-heartedly listened to every drag and insult they could come up with, but you didn’t pay any mind to it. They thought he treated you like shit, that his cool image carried over to his relationship with you – but god, were they wrong. They didn’t know what happens behind closed doors, they didn’t know that you were pretty much sent to heaven above almost every night.
Yoongi may be cold on the outside but when it’s just the two of you he’s putting your needs first instead of his, the silver haired boy always giving you the greatest pleasure. From the way he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue drawing you to the highest of highs, or the way his fingers can curve and brush against spots that makes your hips rise and your toes curl, Yoongi’s got you locked down.
And there was nothing anyone could say or do to break you away from him.
Your judgment was clouded from the start. The moment you felt him tug your arm roughly and drag you towards the empty storage closet, you were already gone. Even when you caught the disapproving looks from your friends as they watch your boyfriend haul you away, you had already given in to him. So when you’re being slammed up against the wall and Yoongi’s lips are immediately on yours, his hands already sliding up your skirt to roughly grip your thighs, you were gone.
You knew that this shouldn’t be happening… That there was far too much at stake if the two of you were to be caught… But the way his hands feel on your body – you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. The feeling of his large calloused hands running over the fabric of your school shirt, desperate gropes of your breast and painfully delicious pinches to your sensitive nipple were only heating your body up, an overwhelming sensation wracking your form as you slump against the wall.
Heavy panting and muffled moans filled the cramped storage closet, sweaty bodies pressing up flush against one another as two pairs of lips tangle in a heated battle. Tongues are fighting, teeth clashing, and impatient hands are tugging and nearly tearing at the annoying articles of clothing adorning your bodies. A whine escapes your lips when you feel the teasing brush of long, slender fingers rub against your clothed core, your hips rolling towards the touch as your hands tug harshly at the boy’s silver locks.
The pads of Yoongi’s fingertips brush against the fabric of your panties, teasing strokes along the side hem are making you mewl, your hands raking through his hair before you tug at his roots in a painful manner, the boy growling against your mouth as he reaches down to pinch your inner thigh, the action drawing you to let out a squeak as you whine loudly. You needed more, you needed to feel something of him against your skin – you need to feel something of him inside of you.
“Yoongi,” you hiss against his mouth. “Fucking touch me, god dammit.”
Yoongi smirks, his digits easily slipping past the hem of your panties as he runs them along your heat.
“Like this?” He asks, and you growl. Harshly biting down on his bottom lip, you tug it causing Yoongi to hiss, the boy unabashedly pushing his index finger inside of you.
The sensation makes you moan shamelessly against his mouth, your tongue delving into his mouth as he slips his middle finger in next, the two digits curling roughly inside of you and drawing another moan to reverberate from your mouth into Yoongi’s. Your back is pressed harshly against the wall of the closet, your hips rolling into Yoongi’s hand as your mouth breaks apart from his, your lips attaching to his neck as he scissors his digits inside of you. With every movement he makes you match it with your lips, teeth and tongue grazing over his unmarked flesh as you bruise him, harshly nibbling and sucking on the skin as you mark him as yours. A groan emits from the boy’s throat as your hand dips down into his pants and grabs a hold of his clothed cock, your lips turning upwards into a smirk against his neck as you palm him roughly.
“Oh – fuck!”
A deep, feral growl emits from Yoongi’s throat then, his thumb joining in with his fingers as he presses it harshly to your clit, rubbing figure eight’s against the sensitive bud and driving your body wild. Your hips lift away from the wall and swirl, heavy pants falling from your lips as you feel yourself start to come undone beneath his hands, his fingers delving deeper with every thrust. Tightening the grip you had on his cock, your hand matches his as the two of you brink your releases, lips sought out to find each other’s as a way to muffle your sounds, and the coil in your stomach tightens when you feel the tip of Yoongi’s digits brush against your sensitive spot, your high washing over you in a rush as you come on his fingers. He’s not that far behind you, his cock spurting his own release as Yoongi comes in his pants, sweat pooling on his forehead and making the silver strands of his hair stick to his skin.
Your chest is heaving, lips parted as you break away from him, before you grinned dazedly at him.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” you chuckle breathlessly. “We could’ve gotten caught.”
Yoongi’s mouthing at your neck, a smirk forming on his lips as his fingers slip out of you. Straightening up so that he’s standing fully now, he keeps his gaze locked on yours as he slips the digits into his mouth, tongue swirling around them as he hums softly. The sight is enough to make another wave of heat pool in your lower body, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you whimper quietly.
“Do you regret it?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow at you. You scoff, your hand bunching the material of his shirt in your hands as you pull him towards you.
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