Yoongixy/n - Tumblr Posts

I Could Use A Hug (Uni!Yoongi Oneshot)

1. “Can you please come and get me?”

4. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

20. “I could really just use a hug right now.”

Pairing(s): Yoongi x Reader

Genre: University!Au, fluff

Warnings: insomnia, allusions to depression, signs/symptoms of depression and/or anxiety (if you or someone you know is struggling, don’t be afraid to seek help)

Word Count: 2.3k words

The thrum of rain drops pelting every surface around you dulled your senses and fogged your aching mind. You could barely see two feet in front of you, the darkness surrounding you only broken by the sparse light of the street lamps that became farther and fewer the longer you walked.

You weren’t sure how long you had been walking, hell, you weren’t sure where your feet were taking you anymore. All you knew is that you couldn’t lie there and pretend like everything was alright; like your mind wasn’t tearing itself apart bit by bit for seemingly no reason, and no matter how much you wanted to believe that closing your eyes and forcing it all away would work, in the end, it never would.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had slept, really slept, and the nightmares in your head seemed to enjoy their slow torment of you from the inside out.

You’re friends would tell you you’re in your head too much; your parents that it’s stress and lack of a proper routine. None of them seemed to dig deeper, try and see that you’ve tried every solution you could think of to fix their idea of the problem, and that none of them worked.

Then again, why should you expect outsiders to know all the answers when you can’t even pinpoint the why yourself.

So instead of staring at your ceiling and letting your mind run rampant with negative thoughts that feed off your sleep-deprived brain, you decide that taking a walk in the pouring rain at 2 a.m. alone would distract you from everything going on in your consciousness.

Only now, sitting on a rickety bench on the side of some street you’ve never heard of, illuminated only by the blinking bulb of a street lamp 20 ft away, you realize that there is no way to outrun this. And, honestly, your exhausted from running this marathon alone.

Wiping away the rain streaming down your face, that may nor may not have been mostly tears that you hadn’t even known had started spilling, you take out your phone to stare at the screen.

3:45 a.m.

“I shouldn’t bother him.” You whisper to yourself, although you bring up your contacts and push the one your looking for anyways. As you hold the phone to your ear, the dial tone ringing through your mind, you curse yourself for being so thoughtless.

How dare you call him when he’s just trying to sleep, knowing he’s probably been up late working, and expect him to drop everything for you. He probably won’t even answer the pho-

“Hello?” A raspy voice cuts through your intrusive thoughts and it takes all you have not to breakdown right then and there. You knew he’d already be worried by the time and nature of the call, no need to add in your hysterical sobbing.

“Y/N? Hey... are you okay?” Yoongi asks, and you can tell he’s getting more worried by the second, and you need to hurry up and find something to say before he panics.

Clearing your throat and taking a deep breath, “Can you please come and get me?”

You hated the way your voice cracked and how needy you sounded, having half a mind to just tell him it was a joke or something and hang up.

You hear him shuffling around, no doubt getting dressed and grabbing his keys, already one foot out the door.

“Of course, where are you?” His voice is soft, calming, and despite the weight it lifts off of your shoulders, you can’t help the pang of guilt that rumbles through your chest for dragging him into your bullshit all the time (though he’d tell you it’s not bullshit and he’s happy to help).

Your eyes dart around your surroundings, trying to find an indicator to your location, spotting a street sign a few yards away, relaying the information to Yoongi.

After a few seconds of what you’re assuming is him getting in his car and trying to figure out exactly where you are, he clears his throat, “Alright, stay there, I’ll be there in, like, 15 minutes...20 minutes top,” And then hangs up the phone to begin the journey.

Slowly tucking your phone back into your pocket, you discover that the rain pelting down just a mere few minutes ago has died down to a light drizzle. It’s a cool evening, but not uncomfortably cold, though you felt so numb right now you doubt you’d have noticed otherwise.

Left alone to your thoughts once again, counting down the seconds till Yoongi would arrive to save you yet again from yourself, you can’t help but let your thoughts wander to the first time you met him.

You hadn’t been quite the mess you were now, freshly out of high school, entering uni and the real world with a blind sense of optimism that would soon be crushed under the immense weight of classes and college life that you’d been naive enough not to wholly consider beforehand.

Yoongi had already, as he likes to say it, “cracked the code” of university life, handling the stresses of student life with ease. Knew exactly what classes to take and avoid, which professors he could swindle, what work he could get away with skipping, and avoided campus social life like the plague. As far as he was concerned, this shit was a breeze and he’d be out before he knew it, degree in hand and job secured through suckering some admin for sweet connections.

He’d never guess he’d get swept up in your steep downward spiral into oblivion when he bumped into you, a happy-go-lucky freshie, that night he decided to let Hoseok drag him to some random new student event in the music hall despite his aversion to such poorly planned social nightmares. In all honesty, he would’ve just ignored you if you hadn’t asked him, quite honestly, where you could get a shot of whatever made him so “incredibly apathetic and disinterested.”

No one had ever really approached Yoongi in the 2 years that he’d been there, except for Hoseok and a few other guys that frequented their shared dorm, let alone a girl. He’s not sure if it was your blind boldness or your Arcadian demeanor that drew him in, but he won’t lie that he’s glad it happened, because you ended up being the best friend he never knew he needed (and the same goes for you.)

Yoongi was there through finals, bad blind dates, terrible roommates; everything. That kind of friendship also came with a front row seat to watch as your mental health deteriorated, with no sure fire way to help you, and it killed him inside.

Soon life was filled with insomniatic episodes that could last for days, a bad caffeine addiction, and an impending sense of doom looming over your shoulder every second of every day, and Yoongi felt like the only thing he could do was watch it all unfold. He was scared of saying the wrong thing, pushing you further into the black hole you edged closer to, and he didn’t want to lose the closest friend he’d ever had.

He quickly learned that just being there and listening when you needed it was the one thing you needed, and he happened to be pretty freaking good at it.

You’ve been up for 13 hours straight working on the exact same assignment? Let’s take a break and watch your favorite movie.

You’re roommate kicked you out again because she can’t deal with you being up for 3 nights in a row? Crash at my place and we can cuddle (which ultimately puts you to sleep, even if just for a little while most nights).

You’re crying for the 5th time today and you have no idea why? I’ll put on some calming music and crush you in a bear hug until you have no more tears left to cry.

Yoongi didn’t need an explanation or any answers, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. Admit it or not, he’d come to love every single piece, every inch, every molecule of you, and he hated to see the person he loved in pain.

So getting an S.O.S. call at 3 a.m., knowing that in your weakest moment you needed him and only him, sleep didn’t mean anything to him anymore, in fact nothing else did. You were his top priority and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And so there he was, in his pajamas and a sweatshirt, hair sticking out in all directions, on his way to a random street across town in the middle of the night with only one thing one his mind. You.

He could tell by your voice that you’d had a rough night, considering he’s been present every other time, and he know the signs when he hears them. The fact that you’d gone so far, alone, in the dark, scared him; you’d never done anything quite so reckless in the time he’s known you, and the the fact that you weren’t in the right state of mind had him picking up the pace, urgent to get to you as quickly (but still safely) as possible.

Yoongi learned early on that even though you had a calm and serene attitude, you took things to heart easily, and the more that piled on you, the harder time you had digging your way out. You were very good at hiding how negatively things affected you, and you always put others before yourself, even when the only person desperate for help was you.

He didn’t really understand how someone so in tune with others feeling and emotions, could be so blind to her own. Sometimes you’d even skip meals working yourself into a frenzy, but still manage to scold him for not eating the proper amount of meals per day.

Sometimes, he thought, it was as if you didn’t see yourself as a living, breathing, person that needed everything you were so willing to give to others. Whether you were selfless or stupid, that was a debate for another time.

Turning down the right street, he finally caught a glimpse of the girl he’d been looking for. Your hair was soaked, along with your clothes, and you stared off at the road with an empty look in your eyes. Parking and shutting his car off, Yoongi hopped out and approached you cautiously, shrugging off his sweatshirt as he went.

Your mind finally broke from it’s thoughts to see Yoongi handing you his sweatshirt. When you didn’t reach out to grab it, he quickly moved closer, pulling it over your head and helping your arms through. When you were situated in the warmth of it, the familiar smell of him flooding your senses, it was then that you finally woke up and looked him in the eyes.

You could tell he was tired by the slight discoloration under his puffy eyes, but the emotion that swirled through them was one you had seen him wear quite often when these things happened; sadness.

Without saying anything, he slowly reached out, taking your frail, chilled hand in his, rubbing it to bring back some warmth. You smiled slightly, though tears still spilled from your eyes.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” He asked, continuing his ministrations, searching through the storm that raged on in your eyes.

You shrugged, a long, exhausted sigh escaping your lips.

“Not that long.” You lied, and he saw right through it, not only because he could tell by just looking at you, but he knew it’d had to be significantly longer than usual for this sort of thing to occur.

When you looked back at him, he continued to burn through your facade with his gaze till you broke.

“Like... 6...6 days.”

There was a short silence between the two of you as everything sort of sank in. It wasn’t unlike you to survive on a few hours of sleep, or maybe go 2-3 days without it, but never this long. Why didn’t you tell him beforehand? Why didn’t he notice?

“You know,” he begins, bringing your attention back to his face, which softens as he takes in just how tired and sad you looked, “if you need help, any kind, I’ll be right there for you.”

You’re a bit surprised by his statement. You know you’ve been in a bad state for a while, and he knows it too, but the topic of getting help outside of the two of you hadn’t really been discussed. Not that you were opposed to it, it just never crossed your mind.

Your silence seemed to worry him, making him add, “if you want, whenever you’re ready, and if you’re not, well, then that’s okay too....because I’m here for you, not matter what, and-“

Your light giggle breaks him from his tangent, and his mouth turns up in a half smile when he sees you wipe your eyes and turn to him, the life seeming to slowly trickle back into your eyes again.

“Ok.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, slight worry etching back onto his face even though he tried his best to remain as composed as possible for your sake. You nodded, and he gripped your hand tighter.

“Ok, when do you want to-“

“We can figure that out later.” You interrupt, the fatigue cutting through the bit of energy you seemed to gather just being in the presence of the most important person in your life.

He senses you fading, and lifts his other hand to rub your back.

“You know what though?” You say, causing him to tilt his head in question, awaiting your response.

“I could really just use a hug right now.” And without any hesitation, you’re wrapped tightly in his arms, face buried in his chest as his lips place a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, you know that right?” You mumble into him, and you can feel his body shake a bit with his light chuckle.

“I love you too, now let’s go home.”

————————————————————————————

This is my first attempt at a short prompt imagine type thingy, hope you all enjoy, and if you find any mistakes or have any questions, let me know! Feel free to message me for requests, I’ll try my best to answer if I can! I have lots of drabbles, imagines, and fics planned for this blog so stay tuned!

-Moonie🌙

Paint Me Over

Disclaimer: I made and edited the gif I used for my header. That’s why I’ve posted this under the tag #btsgif. The footage belongs to BTS and BigHit, it’s obvs from one of Yoongi’s live streams. I also pulled the pic below from that footage. Feel free to use however you like, just please give me credit for the edit. Thanks 💜

I got this request on my Twitter account from @TheGirlInTheFloppyHat⁷ who said, “Soft stans please don't attack me, but a good looking guy, in a beret, casually rolling up his sleeves and painting away is hot as hell!!! HOT AS HELL!! 🔥 🔥 🔥 (Also, Yoongi the Renaissance Painter... Someone please take up the FanFic idea! 🤭🙈)”

Obviously, this is me volunteering to take up the idea because I agree, it is HOT. AS. HELL. 😂 I replied and told them I’d tag them once it was finished. Hope you like! Enjoy! 💜

Age Recommendation: 18+

Warnings: SMUT! Oral (f. receiving) as in face-sitting, smutty sex, Yoongi being a whole-ass Renaissance snacc, paint

Word Count: 1,546

Summary: You and Yoongi live in a modest home somewhere in Renaissance Italy, with him trying to earn a living through art. Unfortunately, you keep distracting him even though that’s nowhere near your intentions.

I sat in the corner of the room, subtly risking a glance at him from the pages of my book. Yoongi was currently swirling his paint brush in the tin filled with the darker blue, lost in thought. “Are you quite alright?” I asked, prompting him to flick his gaze my way.

“I am, thank you,” he murmured, fingers tugging at his beret. I let him carry on, admiring the way his trousers hugged his legs as he moved between the canvas and paint. When he shoved his tunic sleeves up his arms, showing off the creamy skin of those hands I loved pressing my lips to, I swallowed hard.

“I can feel you staring,” his deep bass grumbled.

I whipped my gaze back to my book. “Sorry.”

I listened to the scratching sound of the brush spreading color over the canvas, reveling in the way Yoongi inhaled as he smeared blue onto white, and the way he exhaled as he pulled the brush away. Risking another peek at him, I watched as he straightened, dipping the brush in the paint once more, before bending down the work on the bottom half of what would be his latest masterpiece. Yoongi repeated this action multiple times, silently working as I looked on. His hands were what my eyes were drawn to most, however, his veins popping as his grip on the brush tightened and loosened. I had to press my fingers to my mouth to stop from gasping at the sight.

Normally, he didn’t let me watch him work. Yoongi preferred for me to see the finished product, but as we’d had such little time together since his art started becoming popular, he relented and let me sit in on this painting’s creation. The only other time I’ve been allowed in the same room with him while he’s working is when I’m the one sitting for the portrait, and even then, I never got to see his process until now.

Yoongi finally sighed and set the brush down, his pale arms and smock now splattered with small droplets of blue paint. “You haven’t turned a page for nearly an hour,” he mused, looking at me with hooded eyes.

I opened my mouth to apologize once more, but he crossed the room and smothered my words with his soft mouth. “Never mind,” he murmured against my lips. “I was distracted, anyway. Your mere presence is a hindrance.”

“I can leave,” I muttered, attempting to turn away.

“No,” he growled, the sound low in his throat. “I want you to stay. Need you to stay.”

My eyes grew wide as he pulled me upright, his dark eyes boring into mine as he slid his hands around my waist. “Don’t be scared, my love.”

I shook my head. “I’m not scared,” I said breathlessly. Truthfully, I wasn’t. I was entranced… had been for the entire time I watched him work.

Yoongi reached around me and began loosening the ties of my dress, pressing his lips to the skin of my neck as he worked the strings loose. I sighed into his touch, trembling as he peeled the layer from my body, letting the fabric pool around my feet. He groaned at the sight of me just in my linen kirtle and corset. “Turn,” he ordered, and I spun. His nimble fingers worked at the knots keeping my corset together, skillfully undoing them the way he’d done so many times before. Yet I still shivered every time I felt his fingers touch my bare skin, trailing over my neck and shoulder as his other hand loosened the corset strings to the point where he was able to lift the piece of clothing over my  head and toss it in the corner.

I spun around, becoming painfully aware of the fact that he was still fully dressed. I tugged at the hem of his tunic and he smirked as he pulled it off. “Impatient tonight, are we?”

Biting my lip in response, I fumbled with the ties at his trousers and yanked them down to his ankles, kissing down his torso as I did so. Yoongi groaned loudly as my tongue flicked out, tasting the skin of his creamy pale thighs. I lingered there, pressing the flat of my tongue against his skin, licking my way upwards. “Enough,” he grunted.

Smirking, I refused to listen, doing the same to his other thigh. He growled and grasped my hands, yanking me upright. “I said enough teasing.” I shivered, his husky voice going straight to my already dampening core. Yoongi reached down and grasped the hem of my kirtle, pulling it over my head in one swift move, making me gasp as the cool air hit my naked form. My nipples instantly hardened, and Yoongi sat back, devouring me with his eyes.

“You know, no matter how much I paint, you are still the most beautiful work of art I’ve ever seen.”

I felt a blush creep its way up my cheeks, and reached up to cover my face with my hands. Yoongi grabbed my wrists, pulling me so close I could feel his breath over my face. “None of that,” he murmured.

Yoongi led me to the bed in the corner and lay me down, nudging my thighs apart with a knee before he lay between my legs, his hard, throbbing length pressing against my folds. He rocked back and forth, the tip rubbing deliciously against my clit, and I cried out from the intense pleasure that shot through me.

He silenced me with a deep, passionate kiss, shoving his tongue into my cavern. I wrapped my lips around the muscle, sucking slightly, knowing it would drive him crazy. He let out an appreciative grunt and thrust his hips into mine, forcing a gasp from me.

He lifted his hips, the sudden loss of pressure making me whine, but he pressed a finger against my lips, shushing me. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Yoongi said, deftly flipping us over so I straddled him. He grasped my thighs and guided me to the point where my core sat right above his perfect, pink mouth. Lifting his head, he licked a strip from the bottom of my folds to my clit, eliciting a loud moan from me. I began panting as he continued his handiwork, skillfully tonguing at me from every delicious angle, finally shoving the muscle as deep as he could go, making me cry out. He went between that and sucking fervently at my clit, and I felt my thighs begin to tremble as he worked me to my breaking point. “Yoongi,” I gasped. “I’m gonna… I mean, I’m going to-”

He groaned at my words, the vibration going straight into my core and pushing me over the edge. I cried out, my moans whiny and loud, as I released onto his tongue, panting his name as I came down from my high. “Yoongi… Yoongi…”

Only letting me have a second to breath, Yoongi speedily flipped us over once more, lying between my legs and pressing his hard, thick length into me before I had time to figure out what was happening. I felt my muscles stretching to accommodate him, relishing in the way my walls clenched around him and made him squinch his eyes shut as he bottomed out. “Ready?” he asked, letting his facial features relax into a smile.

I nodded. Yoongi wasted no more time, thrusting in and out of me at an insanely fast pace, using one hand to hold my hips still and the other to tightly grip the round flesh of my ass. I knew there’d be bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow, but at this moment, I didn’t care if I wouldn’t be able to walk. All I knew is I wanted him, I wanted him from the second he picked up his brush, and finally our bodies were melding together as one.

“Harder,” I hissed, scraping my nails down his back.

He obliged, speeding up to a pounding pace. I could hardly breath or feel anything but him inside me, thrusting in and out, the sudden, intense pressure of him inside me coupled with that same pressure abruptly releasing giving me nothing but raw, acute pleasure. I felt the muscles around my core and the bottom of my spine tightening, preparing for a second release. Yoongi’s grunts were coming out loud and frequent, letting me know he too was close. “C’mon sweetheart, let me feel you,” he moaned, and that was all it took to send me over the edge once more, my muscles completely contracting around him as they shook, clenching and unclenching.

He kept going, pushing me through my high, sweat making the tips of his soft, dark hair damp. Finally, Yoongi let out a low, deep grunt and pushed deep into me. I could feel him twitching, releasing everything he had deep inside me. He collapsed on top of me, both of us trying hard to catch our breath as we came down.

After a moment, he pulled out of me and rolled over onto his side. Yoongi smirked as he panted, his face still shiny with perspiration. “Maybe I should let you watch me paint more often.”