Oh To Have Piano Lessons W Him - Tumblr Posts
Ok this is the first time I’ve ever done one of these so I’m a little nervous but I’m a sucker for boyfriend yoongi lol so here’s what I’m thinking, you walk in on yoongi playing the piano so you sit to the side and just listen to the wonderful music. He notices you and wants to show you how to play but you get distracted by his beautiful hands and dumification please. Do whatever you please with this idea;)
Okay so ever since i received this request, yoongi playing “run” on the piano has not left my mind, so feel free to listen to that when u read <3 and this is so cute im in love :') also extremely unedited gonna fix later <3
˚ ༘♡ DRABBLE: #𝟓
˚ ༘♡ RATE: NSFW (18+ MINORS DNI for suggestive content)
➷ ˢᴱᴿᴵᴱˢ ᴹᴸᴵˢᵀ | ᴿᴱᵟᵁᴱˢᵀ ᴴᴱᴿᴱ | ᵀᴬᴳᴸᴵˢᵀ
—
The music notes hit your ear as you opened the door to his studio, his back turned and unaware of your entry. His hands moved over the keyboard fluidly, stopping occasionally to reevaluate, and then start back up again. He was freestyling, you knew his process. You were witnessing genius in the making, watching as the producer’s mind unfolded a new masterpiece. It had you in awe, how talented your boyfriend was.
His hands were delicate, though the metal rings and chain bracelets were a direct contrast to that. His fingers pressed the keys lightly, his foot tapping below as he kept time, like a metronome. He’d pause, hands hovering over the keys, only his jawline visible to you as he thought it through. He’d blink, and then run back a few notes, trying something new until he hit that sweet spot. His fingers were good at that.
He only noticed your presence during one of those pauses, when you’d shifted in your seat on his couch to cross your legs over the other. It was completely subconscious on your part, of course. You hadn’t realized the effect he’d had on you quite yet, though your panties definitely got the memo. Starting to stick to you, watching his fingers had unknowingly caused havoc in your nether regions, something you weren’t yet wise to.
“Hey, when’d you get here?” He turned his big studio chair around to face you.
“Just a little bit ago. Don’t let me stop you though,” you gestured to the keyboard, “You were playing beautifully.”
“Want a front row seat?” His face was totally nonchalant as he patted his lap, looking away at his keyboard. Though, you saw the start of a smirk on his face, the one he tried to push away.
You weren’t going to deny, of course. Standing up and sauntering over, you were happy to lower yourself into his opened legs, leaning into him with a happy hum as his arms wrapped around you to reach the keyboard.
Yoongi didn’t tell you it was harder for him to play with you in his lap. He didn’t say anything about the way your perfume was clouding his senses, making it hard for him to focus on the new song he was writing. He played on like that, guiding his fingers over the keys, a lighter tone picking up.
You had a dilemma of your own. It was true, he had given you a front row seat. With that came a closer view of his pretty fingers, letting you take them in with detail. You couldn’t help the way you zeroed in on them, watching his skilled hands finger the keys.
“You wanna try?” His voice startled you out of your haze, his expectant tone causing you to look at him. “Hm?”
“I asked if you wanted to try,” he repeated. “I could show you a few things.”
You bet he could. You were nodding nonetheless, hoping the lesson would give you something else to focus on. It’s not like Yoongi teaching was extremely fucking sexy or anything.
Not even five minutes in, you were donning your clown makeup on. He was just showing you a few notes, not even a full measure. But you had failed to consider the fact that you’d be watching his hands more intently to mimic them. And you simply couldn’t. Getting almost every note wrong, your eyes only trained on his hands and not where he was placing them, you threw yours up in frustration after the fourth time messing it up.
“It’s okay, baby. We can always try again.” Yoongi was an extremely patient man, and he had no problem working it over with you. Though, the way he littered you in praise, even when you’d completely butchered the order of the notes, showed his reluctance to tell you you were doing anything wrong. You caught on, though—it was hard not to.
“I can’t,” you wailed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I can’t focus.”
Yoongi was slightly surprised. Was it his fault? Was he a bad teacher? “What’s wrong? Why can’t you focus?” His voice was soft and deep, comforting to your ear.
“I just—” you huffed, frustration coating your voice. “I can’t—” You couldn’t get the words out to tell him why, but your eyes fell to the culprit. His hands were resting on your thighs, and you pouted at them in exasperation.
Oh.
“You like my hands that much?” His mouth was pressed to your ear, his voice calm and low. His hands didn’t move from their position, waiting for your nod. Which you gave with a whine. “Can’t even speak?”
You let out a gasp as they slowly crept under your shirt, his lips mouthing on your neck. He was right—you couldn’t get out a single word, stupid with the sight of his beautiful hands. You hissed as the cool metal of his rings touched your hot skin, reaching your bra clasp.
“Guess we’re having piano lessons more often.”
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