Wine | Sope Oneshots (Fluff + Smut)

Pt. VII - Type of Player

• Smut

Yoongi shakily grasped his gym bag. He refused to return to basketball practice. Forever. The thought of him popped through his stressed mind. That boy. Jung Hoseok was the main purpose why Yoongi never wanted to go back. The handsome football player intimidated the hell out of him. Even worse, their lockers were right besides each others. He'd have to run into him before basketball practice began, which was when football practice ended. Every other student in the damn school was head over heels for this Hoseok boy... and so was Yoongi.

On his way to the school, Yoongi contemplated how he could dislike him yet like him so much. He hated how he was falling for him. He hated how everyone was, too. He hated how everyone wanted his man. No. Not his man. He couldn't give him that title. Yet.

Yoongi sighed and stepped up to his locker. Hoseok was at is, changing out of his football gear. A shirtless Hoseok stuffed his gear in a gym bag while Yoongi stripped himself of his long sleeve shirt. He had to resist staring at the taller's body. It appeared so muscular and such pleasant eye candy for Yoongi.

"You can look," the football player chuckled. Yoongi kept his gaze in the opposite direction, silent. He dug through his own gym bag for the shirt he would wear to practice. Rummaging through the rest of his stuff, Yoongi grew infuriated at the loss of his white shirt. Fuck, he slipped through his lips. The small boy rose and slammed his fists into the lockers, catching Hoseok's attention. He rolled his eyes at how ridiculous, yet adorable he was acting. The football player slipped his black top over Yoongi's head and down his pale body. He kissed his blonde head, calming him instantly, and said, "Wear that, little boy." The football player smirked and dressed his naked body in a black leather jacket.

"Aye! I'm not-" Yoongi ended midsentence. He couldn't start beef with the boy now. He lended him his own shirt after all. "Thank you..."

"No problem. Now go, or you'll be late." Hoseok lifted his gym bag, slapped Yoongi's ass, and left. Yoongi felt unbothered about his touchy actions as he walked to the gym. Only confused.

Throughout practice, all Yoongi's mind went to was Jung Hoseok. Like normal. As he dribbled through the court, he began to wonder if that kiss on the top of his head meant anything. What if he does it to everybody else who likes him? He's probably a fuckboy, Yoongi kicked the thought of the football player out his head and continued with the session. Running from one side of the court to the other with half the team, Yoongi stopped in his footsteps. The door of the gym had opened, and in the frame stood Hoseok in the same outfit and bag Yoongi had last seen him in. Yoongi made an effort to ignore him. He believed Hoseok was waiting to retrieve his black shirt. For the remaining 40 minutes, Yoongi didn't bother to look at him again. Not even glance.

After practice, Yoongi rushed to the locker room before Hoseok would. If lucky, he could get out of there without Hoseok's notice. But as he predicted, Hoseok was fast and followed him in. The basketball player rolled his eyes as Hoseok, who was standing next to him. He felt pissed, saying, "You should have never given it to me if you needed it." He pulled the shirt over his head and threw it at Hoseok.

"I'm waiting for you, Yoongi. Not the shirt," Hoseok set his hands on Yoongi's chest and shoved him against the lockers, making him even angrier.

"What the fuck? We barely-" Hoseok poked his index finger in Yoongi's loud mouth. The basketball player sucked slowly, feeling the hate for Hoseok become nonexistent. Probably not a fuckboy after all, Yoongi shut his eyes while he sucked faster, He's such a sweetheart. He seems very genuine... and he's so gentle yet so rough with me.

Hoseok removed his finger. Using both index fingers, he rubbed Yoongi's hardening nipples in a circular motion. The basketball player attempted not to moan too loud, but he couldn't stop himself. Yoongi moaned at every shock of pleasure that struck him. His eyes shut harder, and his head rolled back, banging it against the lockers.