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ghost-proofbaby · 5 months ago

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the cool down (e.m.)

request: from the lovely @mrsjellymunson: Please may I have a 🍋 (with 🍓 elements if there’s room) with Eddie Munson (friends-to-lovers, or established relationship, or your choice of other) in a super-hot, uncomfortable van on a really hot day (or day into evening), where he and reader have to come up with ever-more-daring/inventive ways to cool down/off, and maybe they end up next to, or in, Lover’s Lake?? I’m thinking cool cans of drink/beer, water sprays, fans, wet clothing…

a/n: okay this definitely took on a mind of its own and i just realized i did not have any water sprays or fans or wet clothing, but i did have eddie come up with a sort of unique way to cool us down <3 i hope you still enjoy this, kittie!! <3 <3 (also, if you squint, reader is alluded to having a chronic illness that causes extreme weather conditions to affect them. and i mean, you really have to squint. it's just very very vague since i got lost in the sauce of smut).

warnings: smut, oral f receiving, reader is afab, allusion to oral m receiving at the end, temperature play (ice). minors dni.

wc: 3.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

First, it had been to go driving around to get your minds off the heat.

And it had worked. Eddie’s van was certainly not any cooler than the trailer had been, but something about riding around the town aimlessly with all the windows down did get your mind off the unbearable heatwave. Something about Eddie, singing along purposefully off-key to his favorite songs, his hand resting lightly on your thigh as you laughed at him, made it all a little less terrible. His genius plan had worked – for the first hour.

Then, it had been to go to the gas station and get slushies.

An even better plan than his original one, honestly. You’d gone from staring at his dash while the van stalled at a red light, desperately trying to focus on anything but that creeping sickness at the edges of your mind, when he’d brought it up. One moment, your stomach is dropping as you feel that familiar light-headedness. The next, your en-route for a cherry slushy, on your doting boyfriend’s dime.

You win some, you lose some.

The losing being the terrible affect the heat currently had on you now that you were laying out in the back of Eddie’s van now, parked at Lover’s Lake, the water doing nothing to cool the smothering breeze enveloping you two.

��So, did you bring me all the way out here to kill me, or just stare at the lake all night?” you ask after taking another sip of the tart frozen treat currently cooling both your mouth and palms. It’s melting fast, the plastic cup holding it never standing a chance against your body heat mingling with the summer air.

Eddie had insisted upon coming straight to the lake after the gas station. Urging you to walk back to the van faster as he’d held a cup in each hand; one blue raspberry slushy, and one mystery styrofoam cup he refused to admit just what it contained.

As Eddie speaks, you can see his purple stained tongue, “Who says I’m gonna kill ya?”

“All the movies,” you drawl, stretching your legs out in front of you, the soles of your sandals not even reaching the edge of the van. The thrown-open doors sway ever so slightly in the wind, “Why else would you bring me here, so far away from civilization?”

“So no one could hear you.”

You can’t help the laugh that immediately slips out. You nearly choke on your straw you’d lifted back up to your lips, side-eyeing him through a few wild coughs.

“Excuse me?”

He clearly hadn’t processed what he’d just said, because his eyes go wide as he attempts to backtrack, “Wait, wait, wait! No! I just- I didn’t mean-” he pauses and sighs, leaning his head back to wipe a frustrated palm over his face, “Oh my God, sweetheart, I’m not going to kill you. I didn’t mean it in a murderer way – I meant it in a horny way.”

The horny comment nearly goes entirely over your head, “You’re not going to kill me? That’s something a murderer would say- wait, did you just say you meant it in a horny way?”

You both stare at each other for a short while, matching blown out pupils and chests rising in sync as you both suck in impossible bursts of parching oxygen only to blow them out in rapid successions.

“I did,” he finally breathes out, timidly reaching behind him, revealing that styrofoam cup once more.

Not even a drop of sweat on it yet. It’s holding up tremendously better than your slushies had.

“What’s in the cup?”

You’re feeling bold, ignoring the pooling perspiration at the nape of your neck as you scoot yourself a bit closer, fighting a smile.

“Well, I know the heat bothers you a lot…”

“Right.”

“And I was trying to think of ways to cool you down…”

“Of course.”

“But also just take your mind off of it, in general.”

“That all sounds great, Eddie,” you lean forward, slushy cup pressing into your kneecap as you reach forward for the mystery cup. Eddie is quick to fling his arm up, keeping it far out of your reach, “But what’s in that damn cup?”

Instead of answering right away, he grins slowly, wiggling his eyebrows comically until you roll your eyes at him.

“Fine, keep your secr-”

“Lay back for me, baby.”

He purrs out the command, the sweet nickname a cherry on top.

In a blink of an eye, your joking boyfriend has vanished, someone more confident and commanding in his place. A sight to see, really. There’s only a few times you’re awarded the sight: when Eddie is navigating you through crowded bars with a steady hand pressed to your lower back, when Eddie is hosting his weekly DnD nights that you’ve earned a lifetime invite to, when Eddie is on a stage and entirely within his element as his first sweetheart hangs from his shoulders.

And whenever he has you like this, already compliant and doe-eyed, a toying smile tugging at your lips as you follow through with his demands.

It’s a welcome switch, a welcome presence.

“Good girl,” he awards you softly, and you have to choke back a giggle.

He was just a stuttering mess, defending himself like a clumsy fool. An adorable dork pulling at your heart strings. And now, he’s a vision of assuredness. Of determination.

It’s hot. It’s great. It’s enough to get your mind off the dwindling summer heat that rises around the lake’s perimeter.

“So,” he continues, popping the lid off the cup finally. There’s not a sign of liquid nearing the rim of the cup where you can see, and your face twists in a bit of confusion, “Here’s what’s going to happen – here I have a wonderfully not melted cup of ice,” he tilts it, and you can finally see the pebbled ice cubes. Suddenly, the entire situation has become significantly less funny, “And you’re clearly in need of a cool down. See where I’m going with this, sweetheart?”

You do. But it’s more fun to play dumb.

“I don’t think I do,” you sigh out, stretching so that your tank top rises and exposes your midriff, “Might need a demonstration.”

It’s a vibrant green light for him – he’s quick to set the cup aside and focus all his efforts on undressing you. Hands that are still shaking – because it’s Eddie and his hands will always shake when it comes to you – and eager fingers tracing lines over your hips before he fiddles with the button of your jean shorts. Taking his time with each caress, murmuring words that strike flames within the pit of your stomach, a more welcome internal warmth than what the summer offers.

He pauses once the shirt and shorts have been discarded, and you almost think for a moment, he might begin to pepper soft kisses across your exposed skin.

He doesn’t.

He grabs the styrofoam cup once more instead, keeping eye contact with you as he pulls an ice cube out. Before he formally places it between his lips, he pauses, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes as he instructs, “Think you can stay still for me, baby?”

Funny how easy it is to turn to stone until someone requests it of you.

The ice cube is slotted between his lips, pretty and pink as they wrap around the salvation that quickly starts to melt. A drip of water is already running down his chin by the time he’s leaning down over your body, not yet touching your spasming abdomen, just hovering as he watches the way your body fights against his instruction.

No words are needed – even if he could speak with the ice in his mouth – as his eyes flick up to yours. Arson umber pupils that command you silently.

Stay still, they whisper. And you try to – you really, really try to.

The first drop of cold water hits your skin as it shakes from restraint, from stuttering breaths, from anticipation. He’s teasing you; he’s taking his time as he grows closer and closer to properly pressing the cube and his lips against you. You swear, for just a moment, this entire grand idea was doing the opposite of its purpose. Heat was radiating off of you in waves, with no plans of cooling down any time soon.

And then his lips are on your skin.

Sweet relief, chills racing down the spine, a sigh slipping past your lips as your back arches desperately. He’s pinpointed the exact center between your hips, just below your navel, with everything you’ve begun to crave. Lips losing their heat with every passing second and the tip of the cube trail around in a lazy circle as he keeps looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, corners of his mouth twitching with the temptation of a smile when your fingers tangle in the roots of his hair. You have half the mind to completely undo his already ruined bun – you have half the mind to guide him to exactly where you need him most.

“Fuck,” you gasp out, voice barely a hiccup over the cicadas. It feels nice, it feels good.

The stifle of the van’s air is all but forgotten as he just keeps trailing the ice along your skin, letting it slowly melt until there’s nothing left but the remnants of a chill on his tongue and lips. And he takes those frozen lips, quickly putting them to use as he lets them drag along a pathway to your left hip. No rush. You’ve both got all the time in the world as he presses a hard kiss to that hip, lips pursing and sucking a bit before he shifts to make his way to the right one instead.

Teasing, taunting, relieving.

By the time he’s made it to the other hip, the heat has begun to creep back up.

“You look real pretty like this, you know?” he asks you, hand shooting out blindly to get another ice cube, “Just laying here for me, sighing all cutely and shit,” your fingers tighten in his hair, “Oh, do you like that, baby? Like me calling it how I see it?”

It’s in his confident tone. The buzz shooting straight through your brain that drowns out the sounds of summer when he talks to you like this. Every syllable has you preening for more of his affection, his attention, his approval.

You’re finally dizzy with want and need rather than summertime sickness.

“You’re a fucking vision,” his breath is hot against you as he says it, waiting for just a moment before he lifts up and yanks his shirt off with boyish charm. When he settles back between your legs, he makes a point to lay the backs of your bare thighs against his naked shoulders, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin, “I would do anything for you. Fucking anything. Say the word, and it’s yours.”

Right as he places another ice cube in his mouth, dropping cool fingertips that are wet with condensation to trail from the peak of your knee and down, you take him at his word.

You say the word.

“Kiss me,” you beg.

“Where?”

Not a taunt. Just a clarification. The game is up, and you both know it.

“There.”

“We’re not teenagers,” he snorts, voice a bit garbled as he passes the ice from cheek to cheek, “Use your big girl words.”

This time, your hand is his hair does remove the bun entirely, hairtie lost somewhere recklessly to be found later as thick curls wrap around your fist. “Jesus Christ, I want you to kiss me on my fucking pussy, Eddie. Is that what you want to hear? Quit teasing and-”

“Your pussy?” he interrupts, eyes darkening ever so slightly, tsking slightly, “No, no. That won’t do. Because from what I can see, this pussy is mine, sweetheart. She’s purring for me right now, dripping like these damn ice cubes-”

“Then kiss me on your damn pussy.”

Another ice cube is slotted between his lips, one you hadn’t noticed him grabbing, and he does exactly as he’s told.

The cold shocks you initially, nearly making your hips jump away from his touch entirely. But you can’t as his forearm comes over to rest across the hips he’d just worshiped, other hand tightly gripping onto the flesh of any thigh he can grab onto, pulling you tighter and closer to him.

The same circles he had just trailed beneath your navel return in a new location, skimming your clit now.

“Oh my God,” you whine, shoulder blades digging into the uncomfortable surface of the van’s floor below the makeshift padding of blankets, “Please, please.”

He doesn’t tease you and ask you to spell out what you’re imploring of him this time. What small bit of the ice was left in his mouth slips out, slowly trailing down, down, down. Lighting a path of incessant mercy along its way as it skirts around your clit, ending up nearly slipping inside of you as it slows at your entrance.

A cold, freezing trail of water left behind, and Eddie’s hot tongue is quick to follow it in reverse.

He deliberately keeps it flat, avoiding filling you where you want it most.

He’s still taking his time, moving slower than the cube has as he laps at your folds steadily. One long stride, and you’re squirming. The contrast between the heat of his mouth and the chill that the ice had left behind sends you whirling, stomach clenching as you let out more little gasps.

It only eggs him on.

He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue to finish his path, moving back only to take a sharp breath of his own before his lips wrap around it and suck.

The steady rhythm of suction elicits countless moans from you, all trailing off into desperate whispers, both hands fully buried in Eddie’s curls as he has to fight harder to keep your hips pressed down. Praises of his name, pants of keep going. Your vision blurs in a way that doesn’t send panic through your bones, and you welcome the tunnel vision as he lets go of his grip around your thigh to press his fingertips against your entrance.

He mumbles something, a reverberating hum that has you clenching around nothing, but he’s not willful enough to take his mouth off you long enough to properly enunciate.

“What - ah - what was that?” you breathe out, hardly able to get the words out around your pants as you feel that pressure building between your hips, desperate for release.

Willpower in overdrive, he pulls himself away from being buried against you, “I said, I want you to come for me, sweetheart.”

To emphasize his point, he plunges in two fingers, curling them in a petting motion that spells out your demise.

Your body reacts to the words before your brain can catch up. That pressure, the ever growing knot building, building, building – it snaps within a second of his lips finding your clit again.

His fingers, knuckle deep in your cunt. His nose, buried in your bush. The cold, still lingering with a vengeance against the odds.

The sensory overload does you in. You feel weightless, unaware of just how hard you’re tugging on his curls or the slight rhythm he’s built with his own hips against the blankets below. The high rushes over you, drowning out everything in its path and wrapping you up just as the summer warmth had previously. And he’s relentless, carrying you through every wave, never once faltering.

You understand what he’d said earlier – you’re glad no one can hear you at this moment as you throw away any false God and only say prayers in Eddie’s name.

White vision fades to black, and your entire body goes slack as your eyes flutter shut in exhaustion. The sweat covering your body almost offers some relief as a breeze wiggles its way through the van’s back doors.

He crawls back up your body slowly, coming home to the space you allot him as you further spread your trembling thighs and he peppers the lightest of sincere kisses up your ribcage. Warm lips you feel drawing roadways until he’s finally lining them up your neck, your cheeks, your own hot lips.

“Still with me?”

You only hum in response, hand feeling blindly to lightly caress his bare back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, breath fanning out against your temple as he places a last few kisses, just because.

When you finally force your heavy lids back open, you’re welcomed to the sight of whiskey eyes and a soft nose, shining for a reason only the two of you know. You swear, you can’t decipher if the pink smattering across his cheeks and bridge of his nose is from the heat, or from a proper blush at the sight of you.

It makes your insides melt more than any hot summer day.

“It worked,” is all you laugh out, pads of your fingers still pressing softly into the smooth skin of his shoulder blades, a weak attempt to bring him closer.

“It worked?”

“You took my mind off the heat.”

His lashes might be fluttering even more than your own, hips lowering against yours, heavy and bated as you come back down to Earth. You swear he’s never been prettier than he is right now, with you all over his mouth and bangs sticking to his forehead from the sweat.

You almost card your fingers through them, expose the spanse of skin beneath just to offer the softest of kisses in return to him. Almost.

“Good,” he grins with a boyish mirth, looking overly accomplished, “Did you ever even doubt me?”

“Maybe.”

Your teasing tone has him poking out a tongue that’s a few shades lighter of purple than before, him finally rolling his body off of the top of yours.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he jokes, throwing his head back as your eyes follow. You can see a bead of sweat making its way down his cheekbone, slipping away into his hairline, “And then I’ll fuck that doubt away.”

Your stomach flutters as your eyes wander, taking in his exposed neck, following the creases in his skin down his chest. The way his stomach shakes a little with each breath, and the way you zero in on each quiver of that dark line of hair starting at his navel and disappearing into the band of his pants.

The very obvious, very strained bulge within his pants.

Suddenly, an idea comes to mind.

You sit up a bit faster than is smart, and you ignore the stars in your vision as you quickly situate yourself to perch by his hip. He starts to lift himself back up, hands already flying out to keep you steady, but you only swat them away as you lean over him to grab an ice cube out of the styrofoam cup.

“I think I’ll need more than a minute,” you lie, pressing him back down fully, movements full of determination as he watches you with hooded eyes, “How about for now, I give you a taste of your own medicine, pretty boy?”

The ice is slotted between your own lips, and the whine Eddie lets out is answer enough.

#summertime sweetness #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #there's several lines in here that i went 'wait is that cringe?' but... we persevere?#not really edited but that should be expected of me at this point waaah #gonna make my mouth colder than the arctic than suck his soul out of his body no big deal

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theharrowing · 1 year ago

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Denim & Strawberry

When Yoongi gets invited to watch his crush perform, he has no idea what to expect. Jimin stripping on stage and singing a sultry little number while tugging on his hair is definitely not what Yoongi had in mind, but who is he to complain?

"You could have just asked me out," Yoongi teases, raising his drink to his lips before adding, "no need to put on a whole show." Jimin's mouth falls open again, and he steps close, leaning to speak into Yoongi's ear. "Ah, but you liked the show, didn't you hyung?"

🍓 Yoongi x Jimin

🍓 word count: 19.6k 🙈

🍓 friends to lovers, burlesque au, porn without plot, tooth-rotting fluff, slash, nsfw, 18+

🍓 warnings: top yoongi, bottom jimin. jimin has pink hair and yoongi has a half-up top-knot. this is more or less porn with very little plot. recreational drug use (weed smoking.) jimin performing burlesque and singing while being a flirt. light hair pulling. the burgundy suit from jimin's filter performance, and his kitty gang jacket, and cute lingerie. a hint of jealous/possessive behavior. bickering as a form of flirting. the tiniest hint of sub/dom vibes. safe word establishment. teasing & light humiliation. a little begging. use of good boy and slutty. jimin is shy at times but also a brat and yoongi fights the urge to tame him. a lot of drool, spit, lube, and cum. dirty talk. so much god damn praising. anal (plug, play, eating, fingering, sex.) messy blow job. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. yoongi loves to discuss boundaries & check in. lots of heaven/angel comparisons but only because yoongi is a sucker for how ethereal jimin is (it's not that deep.) too many positions (what was i thinking???) subspace. mating press. cock-warming. after care. tooth-rotting fluff.

🍓 note: a yoonmin fic + jimin doing burlesque was some brainrot shared between @echotoyou and i that i decided to write when their birthday was approaching. but then the big day came and went, and i lost control of this beast for a very long time. she is finally ready hehe. i hope you all (but especially mg!) enjoy!!! finally my years of being a photographer for a burlesque troupe and dating a performer have come in handy for my writing lolol.

🍓 listen along: 🎵 streets by doja cat & yeah, i said it by rhianna (thank you to @sailoryooons for these song choices!!!)

🍓 beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🍓 posted august 2023 | read on ao3

Yoongi pats his pockets down one last time, fingertips tentatively grazing lumps beneath denim. Phone…wallet…keys. That's everything. He presses the lock button on his open car door, then closes it. In his pocket, his phone buzzes.

Namjoon Hyung, are you close?

Yoongi Just parked.

Namjoon Okay, good. Just making sure you don’t miss anything.

Yoongi rolls his eyes but smiles. He has no idea what to expect – nobody has told him much – but Jimin did say, over and over again, that it was fine if he could not make it. That he would be thrilled if Yoongi could come but understood if he could not. That there would be other shows.

But of course, Yoongi did everything in his power to make it. This is Jimin, after all.

He slides his hands into the pockets of his black denim jacket and moseys from the small parking lot to the sidewalk and around the corner. There is a small congregation of people smoking and loitering outside, under a bright red neon sign that reads Paradise. Yoongi has never been to this bar before – tends to avoid spots on this side of town because it is more popular with college kids, and therefore, the drinks are overpriced.

Everyone outside is done up in some flashy way, wearing sequins and fishnets, glittering eye makeup, and patent leather. Yoongi feels underdressed, wearing a black band tee tucked into black skinny jeans, with a black jacket and black work boots, and he awkwardly runs a hand through his dark, wavy, unstyled, and overgrown hair.

"Yoongi!" a familiar voice shouts, and he looks up in time to find his friend Jeongguk waving him over, past the closest group of smokers.

Even his friends are all dressed up, with sparkly eye glitter and tight, colorful clothing. Hoseok and Jeongguk are in mesh, Taehyung has a burgundy feather boa, and Seokjin and Namjoon are both wearing leather pants. Since when did the two of them own leather pants?

"Ya, you're dressed like a scrub!" Seokjin shouts, making Yoongi's cheeks warm in an instant.

"Nobody told you a single thing about the event tonight, did they?" Namjoon asks sympathetically.

Yoongi shrugs, mutters, "No," and digs his hands further into his pockets.

Taehyung approaches, using his pinkies to brush the hair away from Yoongi's face, cradling a pot of light blue glitter between his fingers. "He probably wanted it to be a surprise," he mutters lowly, unscrewing the pot. "Don't let them make you feel self-conscious."

"I don't," Yoongi responds softly, feeling incredibly self-conscious. He stands still while Taehyung dabs his fingertip into the glitter and allows him to smudge it around his eyes. In the early days of their friendship, Yoongi probably would have fussed, but these days, he lets the youngest two – Taehyung and Jeongguk – do whatever they want.

Jeongguk approaches, unscrewing a stick of pink, shiny lip gloss, and Yoongi huffs out a sigh but stands as still as he can while Jeongguk applies it. "Should put your hair into a bun or something," he mutters before he and Taehyung trade places so Taehyung can smudge blue glitter onto his other eye.

"Your hair is really pretty, hyung," Taehyung adds, screwing the top of the glitter pot back on and sliding it into his very tight white slacks. "You should let me style it."

"Don't we have to go inside?" Yoongi asks.

"We'll head in when the emcee comes on," Hoseok responds, approaching with a mischievous smile. Without asking, he grabs Yoongi's right arm and pulls at the black hair tie that he always keeps on his wrist, then begins separating the top half of Yoongi's hair and making a bun on the top. "Jimin goes on third or fourth."

"What is he doing tonight, again?" Yoongi asks, throwing in the again to make it seem like he may have been privy to information in the past, in case it makes one of them divulge even a crumb of information.

"A little singing," Hoseok mutters, grinning. "You know how it is."

"I literally do not know how it is," Yoongi responds, finally becoming impatient with his friends touching and fixing him.

"You'll see, hyung," Hoseok says as he takes a step back, inspects his handy work, and nods.

Taehyung returns with a knit brow and reaches up to fix Yoongi's glittery makeup, which he allows for a moment before swatting him away, grumbling, "Okay, enough."

"Alright, grumpy cat," Namjoon teases, then passes him a freshly lit joint. "Here."

Yoongi reaches for the joint and takes a hit, letting the smoke fill his lungs before tilting his head upward and releasing it. Then he holds out his hand for the next person to take it, and rolls his shoulders back.

"What kind of song is Jimin singing?" Yoongi half-mutters, expecting next to nothing in response.

Taehyung simply says, "You'll see, hyung," with a wink.

“Is it an original song?” Yoongi tries. He can’t remember Jimin ever talking about songwriting, but he wouldn’t put it past him; Jimin is full of surprises.

The sound of someone shouting into a microphone can be heard, and Yoongi stands at attention, ready to go inside. He can hear people cheering and loud pop music playing.

“Shall we?” Taehyung asks as he takes one last drag at the diminishing joint and hands it to Yoongi.

Yoongi nods and takes another hit, cradling the tiny roached joint between his thumb and forefinger, then holds it out for the others, all of whom hold their hands up and shake their heads. With one last puff, Yoongi flicks it into the street, then shoves his hands back into his jacket pockets.

“Is Jimin part of the opening act?” Yoongi asks, and Seokjin snickers.

“He’s one of the main acts,” Namjoon supplies unhelpfully.

So he must be headlining, Yoongi assumes.

“Hyung is so unobservant when he’s nervous,” Jeongguk teases, and Taehyung chuckles along with him.

“I’m not nervous,” Yoongi grumbles.

He glances around and sees flyers for various events taped to the windows for drag and burlesque shows, and a few for various bands, none of which shows any images of Jimin, or any other performers he has ever seen before. In his pockets, his hands prickle with sweat, and he imagines what kind of instrument Jimin might play. Or maybe he only sings.

Jimin is a somewhat new addition to their friend group, brought in by Taehyung and Hoseok; they all work together. To say Yoongi is smitten would be the understatement of the century. And although Yoongi thinks Jimin may also be interested in him, they have not spoken too much about anything outside of college and work, only seeing one another as part of the larger friend group.

As a major in theater arts with a minor in dance, Jimin works at a local studio teaching children tap and ballet as an assistant to Hoseok. Occasionally, Taehyung substitutes for the older lady who plays piano for the classes. It was natural for them to come together, all close in age, with Hoseok only a year older than the other two.

When Jimin invited Yoongi to come watch him perform, they were all tipsy from one too many bottles of soju. Jeongguk was the last in their friend group to graduate college, and they were all celebrating with drinks and fried chicken.

Even then, when Yoongi asked what kind of show it was, everyone was giggly and secretive. From that moment, he got the feeling that Jimin was definitely flirting with him, with the way his gaze lingered, lips curled into a smile long after Yoongi made him laugh. The more Jimin insisted Yoongi needed to just go and experience the event first-hand, nibbling on his pillowy lip with a somewhat shy, rosy-cheeked grin, Yoongi felt eager to do anything he wanted him to.

“Of course, I’ll be there,” Yoongi promised, and he meant it.

The cheers inside grow louder, and Taehyung takes up the lead, stepping into the bar. Namjoon slings an arm over Yoongi’s shoulder and gently shoves him along with the group. Yoongi reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, but Taehyung mutters something to the door guy, who looks at a list of names and then waves the six of them inside.

Taehyung leads them down a short hallway, into the bar. A long counter lines the left wall, with patrons leaning against it both to order drinks, and to chat with one another. Past the bar top, at the end of the venue, is a stage, and on stage is a woman lip-synching to some upbeat pop song while waving big white feather fans in front of her, enticing the audience to want to see what the fans are covering.

Yoongi has seen clips of performances like this but has never attended this type of show before, and his gaze lingers on the woman, who winks and blows kisses to cheering audience members before Namjoon leads him over to get a drink.

The music is loud and a little tackier than Yoongi’s usual taste, but the bass line thrums through the speakers straight into his bloodstream, building his nervousness to see Jimin, egged on by feeling somewhat high. He wonders what kind of performance Jimin might put on at an event like this, and he cannot imagine what it could be.

“Hyung?” Taehyung asks, tilting his head toward the waiting tender. “First one is on me.”

What he would like is a nice scotch neat, but since Taehyung is paying, he finds a mid-tier whiskey and gets it with a spritz of soda water. The others order, and by the time they step away from the bar, the woman’s song is at its climax, and she is topless, wearing lacy red underwear and bouncing in a way that spins the red tassel pasties on her breasts in a circle. The action makes him chuckle, and when she bows and leaves the stage, he claps his fingers against the back of the hand holding his drink.

“Burlesque, huh?” Yoongi asks, turning to Namjoon while a man in drag takes the stage.

Namjoon waggles his eyebrows while taking a sip from the bright blue concoction in his hands.

“Is Jimin also doing burlesque?” Yoongi asks, earning him a shrug.

Yoongi decides to just stop asking. Clearly, his friends are determined to be completely useless.

Although there is a decent crowd in the bar, most people are mingling about, watching the stage from a distance, or whispering amongst themselves. The emcee introduces another act and leaves the stage, replaced by a person with a very nicely manicured mustache and beard wearing a big orange wig and vintage blue dress. They prance around the stage, lip-synching to a silly pop song that Yoongi has never heard before, winning cheers and applause from the crowd.

Yoongi wonders if Jimin will also come out in drag, and what kind of a gimmick he might have. Would he wear a dress? High heels? A wig? Yoongi imagines Jimin with the bright, exaggerated makeup on and smiles to himself; he bets Jimin would look really pretty.

Taehyung leads the group toward the stage, taking his place just left of the center. The others file in behind him, with Yoongi keeping some distance from the very front. The performer comes by, lip-synching to Taehyung, who pulls some money from his pocket and holds it up while the performer bends and offers their cleavage for him to slide the notes into.

"I don't have any cash," Yoongi grumbles toward Taehyung when the song ends and the performer exits. "Will I need any for Jimin?"

"I got you," Taehyung responds, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of notes, shoving them into Yoongi's empty hand before he has a chance to protest.

Yoongi attempts to straighten out the notes while holding onto his drink. Meanwhile, the emcee returns to the stage.

"Our next performer is a fan favorite," the emcee says with an exaggerated waggle of their eyebrows. Around them, the crowd becomes dense, with someone bumping shoulders and elbows into Yoongi as they get close to the stage. The emcee continues, "A man who needs no introduction because, let's be honest, you're all here to see him…Jimin."

The stage lights go out, and there is some movement – a person carrying items, as well as the light clacking of heels on the wooden stage. Yoongi's heart goes wild in his chest, and he lifts his drink to his lips, watching ahead for more movement in the dark, eager to not miss a thing when the lights come back on.

A red glow illuminates the back edge of the stage, showing the silhouette of Jimin sitting on what looks like a standard black folding chair. He is sideways on the chair with one leg crossed over the other, his arm draped over the back of the chair, and his head tilted back. He appears to be wearing a jacket and slacks, but it is hard to tell.

Also on the stage is a tall, wooden coat rack, and hanging from it appears to be a short mesh robe with fur trim along the sleeves and bottom hem.

Beside Yoongi, a man loudly whispers, "I fucking love Jimin; just wait," to someone else, and Yoongi shifts a little on his feet with anticipation and something like envy stirring in his guts.

A yellow spotlight comes on, shining on Jimin. He wears a fitted burgundy suit and black leather boots with a heel and pointed toe. His light pink hair is styled off his forehead, and he appears to be wearing makeup around his eyes, but it is hard to clearly see. In his hand, which is draped over his knee, is a burgundy wide-brimmed hat.

A familiar oldie comes on, a pop track from the 1950s, and Jimin slowly uncrosses his legs and places both feet on the floor. Female voices sing sweetly before Paul Anka's voice croons, "Put your head on my shoulder."

Only, before the sentence is finished, the song abruptly changes to a sexy R&B track with a trap beat. In that moment, the yellow spotlights turn red, the hat is dropped to the floor, and Jimin's hands are on the chair, supporting his weight as his body bows upward. Briefly, Yoongi thinks he recognizes the song from a bunch of tiktoks Hoseok has made him watch.

The crowd cheers as Jimin rolls his body, then sits and rotates, facing the audience and spreading his legs. A woman's voice comes through, singing, "Like you…like you…like you…I find it hard to find someone like you," while Jimin rolls his shoulders and hips to the song, leaning forward and then back, holding onto this chair as he lifts his hips and lolls his head.

Yoongi is stunned, gripping onto his drink while he watches Jimin stand, spin the chair around and sit once more with his back to the audience and head tipped back while his hands rove over his body. His fingertips lift and fall to the rhythm of the song while they work their way down, down, down Jimin's body, difficult to clearly see and stirring up so many mental images.

Jimin's shoulders and hips sway while his hands disappear, and then he pulls open the burgundy jacket. Everyone around him roars excitedly, cheering and applauding. Jimin holds onto the lapels and turns his head, teasing the audience with his opened jacket before he stands and lets the garment slip down past his shoulders, revealing a matching burgundy button-up that is tucked into his matching slacks and clings tightly to his arms and waist.

With a slow, deep swish of his hips, Jimin faces the audience and begins to rip the dress shirt open from the collar, sending buttons skittering across the stage, earning him whoops and shouts. With a strip of skin exposed, he walks over to the coat rack, turns it in a circle, and dips it as if he were dancing with a person, causing the mesh robe hanging from it to sway.

Each movement of Jimin's body is fluid, clothing clinging to his torso and thighs in a way that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. He wears tighter clothing sometimes when they all hang out, but this is the first time Yoongi has really allowed himself to look.

For just a split second, while Jimin is holding the coat rack as if he is cradling the back and neck of a person and lip-synching to the song, it seems like he makes eye contact with Yoongi, causing Yoongi to hold his breath and heavy-blink through the well of excitement and shyness that he feels. It almost looks as if the edges of Jimin's lips lift ever so slightly, but then he releases the rack and spins away from it, swishing his hips as he dips down low and continues to rip open and untuck the button-up shirt with his eyelids fluttering closed.

Yoongi practically forgets there is a song playing, focused so intently on Jimin, that when the singer begins to rap – quick and raspy – matched by Jimin's movements of tearing away the garment and revealing a bare torso with little light-colored heart pasties on his nipples, Yoongi sucks in a gasp that gets caught in his throat, nearly making him choke. Jimin’s bare chest and abdominals are chiseled – carved from the finest clay with careful hands. Yoongi lifts his drink quickly, taking a gulp of bitter whiskey and soda water while the crowd goes wild.

In a swift movement, the pants are torn away from Jimin's waist, revealing long, muscular legs and shiny briefs that match the pasties. Jimin sinks into a squat, rubbing his hands over his legs. Then he sits and lifts one of his legs into a high split, giving Yoongi a very clear eyeful of a bulge and taut thigh muscle, making his mouth fall open.

Jimin unzips the boot from the foot suspended in the air and tosses it aside, then drops his leg down and sweeps his other leg out in a half-squat, half-split while he drags his hands down the length of his leg to the other boot, unzips it, and tosses it near the other one.

He spins, gets onto his knees, which are spread, and rolls his hips, lifting and dropping his ass while his hands rove up to his neck and hair, and his head lolls back. All he wears is shiny briefs and pasties, making Yoongi feel more intoxicated than the glass of whiskey ever could.

The group to Yoongi's right is particularly loud, cheering for Jimin and shouting things like, "That's it, baby, show us how you ride it!" making a shiver run along Yoongi's spine. The objectification makes him feel uncomfortable, but he wonders whether Jimin cares, considering he clearly enjoys stripping for an audience; maybe that is all part of the thrill. Yoongi can't say he blames him.

The song fades out as Jimin gets onto his hands and knees and crawls over to the coat rack, then slowly gets to his feet. As the music ends, the red lights fade to regular spotlights, revealing the briefs, pasties, and mesh robe – which Jimin pulls from the rack and begins to put on – are all a light pink color that matches his hair.

Jimin ties the robe with a cord around his waist, standing barefoot while looking out at the crowd with a soft smile. The audience roars with applause and praise, and Yoongi expects Jimin's performance to be over, but then a stagehand in all black runs out, collects the discarded clothing while another sweeps a large broom across the floor to kick away loose buttons, and he hands Jimin a microphone that has been covered in light pink rhinestones.

Once the men wearing black disappear behind tall curtains, a new song begins, also a slow R&B track, and Jimin lifts the microphone and starts singing, slowly swaying his hips and approaching the front of the stage.

Yeah, yeah…yeah, yeah… I ain't tryna think about it, no

Taehyung takes a step back, wraps his arm around Yoongi's waist, and pulls him closer to the stage, causing Yoongi to fumble as Jimin approaches. He stands still as a statue with his hands in front of his chest – wad of notes that Taehyung gave him wedged between two fingers while both hands grip tight to his cold, condensation-covered glass of whiskey and soda water.

Jimin's eyes find Yoongi, and he smiles, tilting his head sweetly to the side. To his right, the guys who had been cheering loudly try to close in and reach forward, but Jimin ignores them, looming over Yoongi while he sings in a soft, sweet voice, delivering lyrics that have Yoongi's cheeks absolutely burning.

Yeah, I said it, boy, get up inside itI want you to homicide it

As Jimin lifts a hand and reaches out, Yoongi steps forward instinctively, knocking the toe of his boot into the front of the wooden stage, head tilted upward with his eyes never leaving Jimin's face. Around him, hands reach out with money, and some even toss notes to the stage, but Jimin ignores all of it.

Go in slow, but I want you to pipe it And I think I kinda like ya Up against the wall, we don't need a title

But Jimin does take the wad of notes that stick out from between Yoongi's fingers, tugging them right out of his weak grasp, and he snakes his hand under the robe and tucks it into the side of his little pink briefs, making Yoongi breathe out a soft chuckle.

Beside him, the guy who seems intent on getting Jimin's attention mutters, "Who the fuck is this guy?" just loud enough that Yoongi can hear him, and pride begins to burn behind his ribs.

Yeah, I said it…Yeah, I said it, bae Yeah, I said it, man, fuck a title

Gently, Jimin reaches out toward Yoongi's head, eyes widening and brows slightly lifting as if asking for permission, and Yoongi nods while letting out a shaky breath. Fingers delicately push into his hair, tugging on strands as Jimin takes a handful and releases it, pulling away while dragging his fingertips against Yoongi's cheek. Even the gentlest touch feels electric, and Yoongi sways slightly forward when Jimin's hand drops away.

Boy, I always like to show Get a little bit, come a little close, now

Arousal builds, and Yoongi feels a bit ashamed considering he and Jimin are friends, and Jimin is hardly touching him in a way that should warrant blood rushing to his dick. But Jimin looks like pure sin wrapped in inviting pink, and the way he stares at Yoongi is playful in a way he has never seen him look.

Take it home on your camera phone Get a little bad, watch me blow it down

Jimin sinks to his knees, still taller than Yoongi but closer to eye level. With one hand, Jimin reaches for Yoongi's drink, then he has a sip of it and sets it down on the stage. Yoongi's hand stays in the same shape as if the glass had never been removed, and he is not sure what is sexier, the fact that Jimin takes the glass straight from his hand, or that he doesn't even flinch after essentially drinking carbonated whiskey.

Yeah, I said it…Yeah, I said it, bae Yeah, I said it… Ooh

With a smirk, Jimin slinks to the very edge of the stage, knees practically bumping into Yoongi's hips. He slips his microphone into Yoongi's hand and lifts it until Yoongi has it in front of his face, as if he is supposed to sing the next line, and then he drapes his arms over Yoongi's shoulders, leans in, and continues.

Yeah, I said it… Yeah, I said it, bae Yeah, I said it… Ooh

From this close, Yoongi can see a dusting of shimmery pink on Jimin's eyelids, which are lined in black. His lips are glossy, he smells like strawberries, and Yoongi feels stunned in place, questioning whether or not all of this is a dream. Could his friends have slipped something in the weed? Could he be hallucinating?

Jimin sings higher, each word more inviting than the last.

You can be rough, boy, but you won't

One of Jimin's hands slides into Yoongi's hair, and starting from the nape of his neck, he takes a handful. Everyone in the bar fades away; as far as Yoongi is concerned, the only two people in the room are himself and the beauty before him.

Yoongi wonders if this is how Jimin's performances typically go. Does he always pick someone from the audience to tease? Is he always this handsy?

Give me some love, boy, give it to me 'til the morn'

With a gentle tug at his hair, Yoongi practically whimpers, watching as Jimin's lips pull into a sweet, devious smile. Jimin holds onto Yoongi while swaying side to side, knees spreading wide as he dips low and closing as he sits a little higher.

Jimin continues singing—

Yeah, I said it…Yeah, I said it, bae Yeah, I said it…

—but he seems less focused on sounding good for the audience and more interested in gently tugging Yoongi's hair and making him gradually fall apart. Soon, he is no longer singing at all, and he releases Yoongi's hair and drags his hand around his neck, past his throat and chin, then up and away, making Yoongi lean forward as if pulled by an invisible string.

Yoongi wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, and Jimin seems to follow the movement before gently tugging his microphone out of Yoongi's tight, sweaty grasp and getting to his feet. Only then, does Yoongi realize the music is fading out. Jimin does a cute little twirl and opens his arms wide, bowing as the audience erupts into cheers, leaving Yoongi too stunned to clap.

The emcee returns to the stage to announce an intermission, and the house lights come on, brightening the space. The crowd thins, and Yoongi heavy-blinks as he takes in his surroundings and allows his soul to return to his body while Jimin prances away, glancing over his shoulder to wink at Yoongi before slipping behind the black curtain.

Two large, warm hands crash into Yoongi's shoulders, and he jumps, sucks in a gasp, and turns to find Namjoon staring at him with a wide smile.

"So?" he has the audacity to ask, and all Yoongi can do is scoff and shake his head incredulously.

"So, what?" Yoongi responds, attempting to play it cool despite the way his heart hammers in his chest.

"Was it life-changing?" Taehyung asks, and Yoongi turns to regard him before remembering his drink is still on the stage and spinning around to retrieve it. When he turns back to his friends, he finds five sets of eager eyes watching him, as well as the stares of strangers, and he ducks his head and gulps down half of his drink.

"It was…" Yoongi begins, trailing off as he attempts to summarize what he just witnessed, blinking through mental image after mental image. "Unexpected," he finally says, lips involuntarily tugging to a smile, which he covers by slamming back the rest of his drink.

"It sure was!" Hoseok says with wide eyes. "Jimin never comes to the edge of the stage like that. People always try to entice him, but he always plays hard to get."

"Oh," Yoongi mutters, letting the words sink in.

"Another?" Jeongguk calls, holding an empty glass, and everyone nods. Hoseok and Taehyung finish their drinks in a gulp while they all turn and make their way to the end of the bar.

As they stand and wait, Yoongi takes a look around the space. Everything is black and chrome and nothing too remarkable, but the place seems to have a chill vibe. And he is grateful to not be the only person wearing denim and a band tee – dressed like a scrub, as Seokjin so elegantly put it.

Taehyung and Jeongguk get drinks, then slink away from the bar to stand off to the side. Then Hoseok and Seokjin order, and finally, Namjoon. Yoongi steps up to the counter and decides to order the same thing he had before – whiskey and soda water.

From beside him, a sweet, familiar voice shouts, "Make that two, please!"

The smell of strawberry perfume hits Yoongi's nose, and he turns to his left to find Jimin smiling widely at him. He wears a white tee tucked into tight, black leather pants, and a black leather bomber jacket with a feathery design embroidered in red and silver beads on the shoulders.

Now that Jimin has touched him – tugged at his hair while looming over like a salacious little threat – Yoongi allows himself to stare a little without feeling the nervous urge to flit his gaze away. The longer he looks at Jimin, the wider Jimin's smile grows.

"Hi, hyung," Jimin says, taking a step closer.

"Hey, pretty," Yoongi responds, feeling self-conscious about his choice of words until he sees the way they make Jimin blush. Pretty, indeed.

Two glasses thunk against the bar top, and Yoongi turns with a gasp, fishing for his wallet.

"On the house," the bartender says, nodding at Jimin.

"Oh," Yoongi mutters, "okay."

"I got the tip," Jimin says beside him, leaning into his personal space to hand a folded wad of notes to the bartender. Jimin adds, "Though, technically, you are paying for it, hyung," close to Yoongi's ear.

"Taehyung is paying for it, actually," Yoongi responds with a smirk, turning to Jimin whose mouth falls agape, scandalized. Yoongi feels the need to defend himself, adding, "Hey, I didn't know what was going on, otherwise I would have come prepared!"

Yoongi picks up both drinks and hands one to Jimin, who responds, "Fair," through laughter as he grabs Yoongi by the bicep and pulls him away from the bar.

Even through his denim sleeve, Yoongi feels a spark of electricity where Jimin touches him. He notices that Jimin has pulled him in the opposite direction of the rest of their friends and decides not to question it. When they find themselves against the wall in a somewhat dimly lit corner, Jimin's hand stays on Yoongi's arm, giving him a tentative squeeze, and Yoongi looks down at Jimin's hand and smiles before meeting his eye.

"You could have just asked me out," Yoongi teases, raising his drink to his lips before adding, "no need to put on a whole show."

Jimin's mouth falls open again, and he steps close, leaning to speak into Yoongi's ear. "Ah, but you liked the show, didn't you hyung?"

Yoongi has a sip of his drink, then he hums as he nods and says, "I did like the show. Your voice is really beautiful."

"Just my voice?" Jimin asks, stepping so close, their shoulders touch.

A chuckle rocks through Yoongi, and he tips his head toward Jimin, who takes a drink with wide, curious eyes. "Not just your voice, no. Everything about you is beautiful."

"Awe, hyung!" Jimin shouts, shoving playfully at Yoongi's shoulder and sending him crashing lightly into the wall.

"Wow," Yoongi responds, snickering. "Last time I compliment a guy."

Jimin places his hand over the spot he shoved and rubs over it, radiating warmth through denim and cotton. He opens his mouth to respond when a small group of men approaches to tell Jimin he did a great job, and Yoongi recognizes one of their voices as the guy who stood beside him during the performance. Yoongi cocks an eyebrow as the man makes eye contact with him, lifting his free hand to place over Jimin's hand, which continues to mindlessly rub over his chest, just below his clavicle.

"Thanks for coming to the show," Jimin mutters politely, turning back to Yoongi.

The group hovers behind Jimin and Yoongi does his best to ignore them, but it feels awkward to have an audience now that Jimin is no longer performing.

"We should finish these drinks and get out of here," Yoongi suggests loud enough for the others to hear him, letting his gaze lift to the group to see if they have.

Jimin chuckles. "Hyung, are you being possessive right now?"

"Maybe," Yoongi responds, tonguing the inside of his cheek. "But if you want to stay while that desperate pack ogles you, by all means—"

Jimin slides his hand from Yoongi's weak grasp to give him another smack, this time on the arm.

"God, you're hot when you're jealous," Jimin says, making Yoongi blush, "but I should stay until the end to support the other performers. There are only four more."

Yoongi nods and accepts Jimin's terms. He wants to clarify that his offer for Jimin to leave with him afterwards is genuine, but the house lights dim, and music plays through the speakers, signaling the return of the show.

Jimin takes Yoongi's hand and pulls him toward the front of the stage, to where the rest of their friends have congregated. Namjoon looks down at their linked hands, then to Yoongi, and he winks, making Yoongi roll his eyes despite how nice it feels to be holding Jimin's hand in public.

The rest of the show goes by in a haze. Yoongi is hardly aware of the performers, hearing a hint of a song here and seeing a whoosh of brightly colored fabric there. All he can focus on is Jimin’s hand in his, Jimin’s voice singing and cheering, Jimin's warmth emitting in welcoming bursts beside him.

Whenever Jimin slips his hand away to clap for each performer, Yoongi follows suit, robotically tapping his fingertips to his glass. And when Jimin takes his hand again, everything blurs and slows down, drowned out by the thrumming of blood in Yoongi’s veins, every sense acutely aware of only Jimin’s proximity – soft and strawberry-tender.

Once the house lights come on again, signaling the end of the show, Yoongi downs the rest of his drink. He feels sluggish and heavy, stumbling slightly when Jimin yanks him over to their friends. He wonders if they will want to keep drinking, whether they will want to go to a new bar. He thinks he would be alright with going to another bar; he parked his car somewhere it can be left overnight.

“Wanna get out of here, hyung?” Jimin asks sweetly in his ear, and Yoongi decides all at once that another bar is out of the question.

“Yes,” Yoongi responds, turning to Jimin with a wide smile that may very well look too eager for his own good.

Jimin chuckles, finishes his drink, and says, “Good,” before leading the way to the bar where their friends are gathering with empty glasses.

Yoongi considers how to break the news; Taehyung and Jeongguk tend to be pretty clingy and weaponize pouts that even Yoongi struggles to defend against, while Hoseok is always eager to keep their hangouts going well into the early morning.

“We’re gonna get out of here!” Jimin announces, gracefully stealing the words from his mouth before he can even begin to formulate them.

Jimin begins to hug everyone before they have a chance to oppose, smacking kisses against their cheeks and thanking them for coming to watch him perform. Most of them seem too dazed to argue.

Yoongi waves to everyone, noticing as they all make some sort of wink or eyebrow waggle at him, then he turns wordlessly and allows himself to get dragged by the wrist through the space, past patrons who attempt to talk to Jimin, and out into the cool night air.

Jimin slides his arm into the crook of Yoongi’s elbow and pulls him along the sidewalk. “I live close,” he says before Yoongi has a chance to ask where they are going. Not that he would protest against being taken anywhere Jimin wanted.

“Did you like the performance?” Jimin asks, bumping his hip against Yoongi as they walk.

“I told you I did,” Yoongi teases, turning to find Jimin smiling while looking ahead.

Jimin’s side profile is all firm lines and glitter, softened when he turns to Yoongi with wide, round eyes and pillow lips. He is stunning, and Yoongi is relieved to be able to stare unabashedly.

“You told me I was beautiful,” Jimin clarifies, raising his eyebrows before looking ahead.

“You are,” Yoongi mutters, remembering the performance. “And your singing was really beautiful. And the…stripping…” he trails off, feeling nervous about his choice of words.

But Jimin does not miss a beat. “You liked watching me strip, hmm?”

“Of course I did,” Yoongi mutters, blushing.

He is tugged around a corner to the right where the streetlights are fewer and the world feels darker, quieter.

“And my dancing?” Jimin asks, walking impossibly closer – the two of them somehow managing to not trip over one another.

“I liked your dancing,” Yoongi responds softly, clearing his throat to speak louder. “Hoseok mentioned you never come to the edge of the stage like that.”

Jimin chuckles, and Yoongi glances to the side, catching his eye before they both look ahead.

“I don’t. That was just for you. I had a couple surprises just for you.”

Yoongi hums questionably, and Jimin says, "There's still one more surprise, in fact."

“Wow,” Yoongi rasps, smiling, “guess I’m pretty special.”

Jimin stops in his tracks and turns, pulling Yoongi gently away from the sidewalk, onto a grassy area near where tall bushes line the outside of an apartment building. It is even darker, and even quieter, without another soul around as far as Yoongi can tell, and he allows Jimin to wrap his arms around his shoulders and pull him close enough that their lips nearly touch.

“You are special,” Jimin responds with a smile, fingertips playing with Yoongi’s hair. “And you look so cute with your hair half up and your eyes covered in Taehyung’s favorite blue glitter. How could I keep my hands off you?”

“Your admirers seemed pretty jealous,” Yoongi teases as he wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist, holding him close.

“Let them be,” Jimin mutters softly, ghosting warm breath over Yoongi’s lips, which he wets with the tip of his tongue in anticipation. “The only admirer I care about is you.”

Yoongi smiles, letting his mouth fall open to respond – to tell Jimin he does admire him, so much, in fact, that it makes him dizzy. But Jimin slots their lips together tentatively, hands cradling Yoongi’s neck and back, and Yoongi sinks into the feeling with a sigh, then gently sucks Jimin’s bottom lip into his mouth as his pulse quickens.

Jimin’s mouth is warm and soft beyond Yoongi’s wildest dreams. Yoongi rubs his hands over Jimin’s lower back and tilts his head just enough to deepen the kiss, licking over Jimin’s bottom lip until it falls open with a gasp, granting Yoongi entrance.

With a slow graze of his tongue over Jimin’s, he feels Jimin tense and shiver in his hold, letting out a soft whine that has arousal crashing through Yoongi. Jimin whimpers, and all Yoongi can think about is the man on stage in his tight little briefs, and his trim, flexible body grinding and swaying so invitingly.

Jimin breaks from the kiss, panting as he tips his mouth away but presses their foreheads together. Yoongi opens his eyes just enough to see Jimin smiling.

“Let’s go inside,” Jimin mutters, sounding breathless, and he releases Yoongi from his hold and leads him up the short set of steps into the building they were just in front of.

“Couldn’t wait two more minutes to get me inside?” Yoongi chides as Jimin tugs him by the wrist down a short hallway, to a door on the right.

Jimin punches in the door code and steps inside the apartment, switching on a bright overhead light that makes the two of them squint. When Yoongi steps in and closes the door, Jimin has his hands on him, pressing him against the wall.

“Are you always such a brat?” Jimin groans, crowding Yoongi’s space.

Yoongi assists Jimin in being close by wrapping his arms around his waist. “I like to tease you,” he rasps, chuckling as Jimin rolls his eyes.

“You were teasing me earlier,” Yoongi adds, sliding one hand up, over the scratchy embroidery of Jimin’s jacket until his hand is on the back of Jimin’s neck. “With your dancing…and your singing…and your hair-pulling.”

“I was being extra sexy once I saw you standing there,” Jimin says sweetly as he slots a leg between Yoongi’s thighs.

“Is that so?” Yoongi asks, tipping his head back against the wall so he can actually see the beauty before him.

Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip and nods his head. “I don’t usually grind on the floor as much. And the little splits I did to take off my shoes was improvised.”

“I might need to see those moves again,” Yoongi mutters, closing the gap between their lips with a soft, chaste kiss.

Jimin sighs and sinks into Yoongi, stomach and chest flush with his. “I have a lot of moves I can show you, hyung,” he responds as he sucks Yoongi’s lip into his mouth hard enough to make Yoongi whimper.

“So show me,” Yoongi practically whines as he licks eagerly over Jimin’s lips.

Jimin heaves a breath and takes a step back, grabbing Yoongi’s hands as they slowly slide from their grasp, walking backward through his tidy apartment, smiling as he mutters, “I’ll show you.”

Abruptly, Jimin stops and shouts, “Wait!” shoving Yoongi backward. Yoongi is confused and cocks his head, allowing himself to be moved, fingers still laced with Jimin’s.

“We have to take our boots off, silly,” Jimin says, unlinking their hands and pressing Yoongi against the wall once more. He leans against Yoongi's chest as he lifts each foot to slide out of his black Chelsea boots and socks, stepping a bit shorter than before.

Once Jimin’s feet are free, he prances away with a giggle, and Yoongi opens his mouth to call after him, but shakes his head and chuckles instead as he bends and unties his boots, toeing out of each one. The sound of a faucet running cues Yoongi to where to go, and he walks through the living room, to the right, and finds Jimin standing in a small kitchen, drinking from a glass of water.

“Thirsty, hyung?” Jimin asks, holding out the glass.

Yoongi takes it and has a drink, then sets it on the counter, and says, “I’m not too thirsty…but I am quite hungry,” watching as Jimin begins to look around with a frown.

“I don’t have much,” he says, “what are you hungry for?”

Yoongi wraps his hands around Jimin’s waist, rubbing both palms over his leather-clad ass.

“You,” he rasps, earning him a groan and a weak smack on the arm. He pouts and adds, “Pretty please?” while batting his eyelashes, and Jimin takes his hand, leading him away.

“Are we leaving every light in your apartment on?” Yoongi asks while Jimin drags him into a short hallway.

With a huff, Jimin turns on the hallway light, then reaches into a semi-open door right in front of them and turns the light on, revealing a bathroom.

“There!” Jimin says with an incredulous glare. “Are you happy, hyung?”

“No,” Yoongi grumbles. “Feels like a waste of electricity.”

“You’re infuriating,” Jimin complains as he shuts off the bathroom and hallway lights. He playfully shoves Yoongi away to storm off to the kitchen and living room, and Yoongi laughs to himself, over the moon with how easy Jimin is to rile up.

When Jimin returns, he grips onto the sleeve of Yoongi's jacket and yanks him roughly down to the end of the short hallway, into a dark room. Yoongi is still laughing, muttering, "Whoa, easy, tiger," as he is pressed into another wall, body against body, with warm breath wafting over his face.

"You'll just have to fuck me in the dark since you're so god damn annoying," Jimin huffs as two hands slide up Yoongi's neck, into his hair and grip tightly.

Yoongi reaches into Jimin's jacket, pushing material away as he grabs him by the waist. Then he twists the two of them, grinning to himself when Jimin huffs out a surprised, "Oof," from the impact of his back being pressed into the wall.

He leans forward, grazing his nose against Jimin's nose as he says, "So you want me to fuck you, hmm?"

"I thought that was a given," Jimin responds, voice less confident than before – trembling, even.

Yoongi hums and noses at Jimin some more, flicking his tongue out and pleased when it grazes over soft lips. "Didn't want to assume," he responds lowly, licking over Jimin's lips once more. "I'm down for anything you want, pretty."

It feels almost frantic the way Jimin's lips crash into his, mouth kissing and nipping while hands shove away Yoongi's denim jacket, sending it to the floor in a heavy lump of fabric. Jimin's hands yank at Yoongi's shirt, pulling it untucked from his jeans, and Yoongi reaches down, gently taking him by the wrists to stop him.

"Wanna see you," Yoongi says. "I take back what I said about the lights; turn them all on so I don't miss anything."

Jimin chuckles and pulls his hands away, then a rustling of fabric is followed by the bright flashlight of Jimin's phone coming on.

"Compromise?" he suggests with a smile that Yoongi barely sees behind the bright white glow. "There's a lamp beside my bed. Be a good boy and turn it on for me?"

Despite the somewhat indignant scoff that rolls through Yoongi's chest and throat, he turns on his heels to make his way through the dark bedroom, determined to be a good boy, indeed. He watches his step, maneuvering around discarded clothing items in the white glow before reaching the bed and finding the lamp.

It takes a few moments of him rubbing his hand over the post and then down to where a cord sticks out, but he finds the little plastic switch and presses it on. A soft, golden light fills the space, and when he spins back around, Jimin is in the center of the room with his jacket draped down past his shoulders.

Jimin begins to saunter over, and Yoongi's brain kicks into gear, going haywire over what he should do – join Jimin and undress him, or sit down and find out whether Jimin feels like putting on another show for him. He opts to sit, but when he turns to make sure the bed is close enough, his knees bump into it, knocking him off balance, and he more or less crashes onto his butt against the mattress.

"So eager," Jimin teases as he rubs his hands over his neck, up into his light pink hair, and back down.

"For you?" Yoongi responds, raising his eyebrows and nodding toward Jimin, feeling zero embarrassment over his floundering. "Absolutely."

"What are you so eager for?" Jimin asks with a grin that grows into something as beautiful as it is dangerous.

"You," Yoongi responds without thinking. "All of you."

Jimin giggles. "Be more specific, hyung."

"I want to watch you strip again," Yoongi says, swallowing a lump of excitement that builds and builds in his throat, threatening to suffocate. "I want to worship you."

With another giggle, Jimin begins to thumb through his phone. The sound of a bluetooth speaker connecting somewhere to the right chimes through the room, and Yoongi turns to glance around, noticing a desk, a dresser, and an open closet door. Garments are strewn about – mostly shirts, it seems – and the dresser appears to be covered in various makeup items, beauty tools, and accessories.

Over the speaker, a sexy R&B track begins to play, and Yoongi turns his attention back to Jimin, who tosses his phone over to the bed, to the right of Yoongi, and begins to sway his hips. Earlier, when Jimin was on stage, Yoongi was awestruck and struggled to fully comprehend what was happening. Especially with others around him cheering and shouting for Jimin, it took time for everything to settle over him.

But sitting in this dim room, just the two of them, knowing the type of body that Jimin has under all that leather and cotton, Yoongi's desire and anticipation reach new heights, and he leans back with his palms spread against Jimin's pink and orange floral comforter while butterflies kick up in his stomach. He almost feels the urge to pinch himself, worried once more that he might be dreaming.

Jimin lets the jacket fall to his wrists, then he lifts one hand slowly, dragging the material upward with his wrist until it slides free and falls. He lifts his other hand straight out and tilts his wrist until the material slides and crumples to the floor, and although it is just outerwear and Jimin is still fully clothed, the seductive movements have Yoongi sitting wide-eyed and mouth agape – entranced.

Yoongi barely registers the song that is playing, but he does not need to. Jimin's shoulders and hips amplify its tune, turning it into something tangible – something he could reach out and feel. Slowly, Jimin turns, and, with his fingertips dancing over the material of his t-shirt, he begins to untuck it little by little.

White cotton drags over muscular shoulders with every movement, while black leather hugs his ass and thighs tightly. Then Jimin does a cute turn and sways down, bending his knees before swishing back up while lifting his shirt over his tummy and up, up, almost to his chest before spinning again and looking over his shoulder, pretending to be shy.

Yoongi scoffs and shakes his head, absolutely charmed by Jimin's little show, still toeing the line between playful and sexy as the shirt lifts over his head completely and Jimin tosses it over his shoulder, straight at Yoongi's face. Yoongi barely lifts his hands, allowing the fabric to gently clobber him in a wave of warm strawberry, and when it falls to his lap, he lazily takes it in one hand and holds onto it.

"Still wearing those cute hearts?" Yoongi asks, and when Jimin mock-pouts and says, "Sorry, hyung, I took them off," he feels the tiniest tinge of sadness.

"What a shame," Yoongi responds, wetting his lips as Jimin turns and saunters closer, hands rubbing over his nipples, keeping them covered. "They were cute."

"You're cute, hyung. But no touching unless I say you can," Jimin instructs softly but firmly, nibbling his bottom lip while slotting one leg between Yoongi's thighs and lifting his other knee to the bed.

Yoongi tips his head back, leaning to give Jimin space as he rolls and grinds his hips, rubbing his hands up, over his neck, and into his hair, and then down, over his nipples and abdominals. Jimin is delicate hills and valleys of taut muscle and soft skin, and all Yoongi can do is stare at the beauty before him while swallowing the saliva that has pooled beneath his tongue, threatening to drool past his lips.

"Like what you see, hyung?" Jimin asks, making Yoongi chuckle.

Yoongi has to find his voice, softly clearing his throat. "You know I do."

With a deep, inviting hum, Jimin presses his thigh between Yoongi's legs, applying just enough pressure to make the air get trapped in his lungs. Arousal simmers through Yoongi, and he gasps, which becomes a soft chuckle when he notices the playful look on Jimin's face.

"Evil," Yoongi groans when Jimin's leg grazes over him again, feeling blood rush straight to his dick.

"What's the matter, hyung?" Jimin sing-songs as he takes a step back, spins around, and lowers his ass to Yoongi's lap.

With both hands planted on Yoongi's knees, Jimin rolls his hips in circles and grinds them forward and back, and Yoongi squeezes the comforter in both palms as he groans from the pressure, fighting how badly he wants to touch.

The song switches to something else sultry and unfamiliar, and Jimin reaches back with one arm that drapes over Yoongi's shoulder, resting his head on his other shoulder while his hips lift and fall in quick but soft movements that graze over Yoongi's crotch.

"You're good at this," Yoongi mutters, dazed, hardly sounding like himself.

Jimin hums in agreement and says, "I'm good at a lot of things."

A particularly firm press of Jimin's ass against Yoongi's constricted dick has his eyes fluttering closed, and he practically whines, "Show me everything."

Jimin sits up, taking away the arm around Yoongi's shoulder, then glances back with a mischievous smile, still moving his hips in inviting circles. Yoongi can hear the slow drag of a zipper, each tooth releasing as Jimin's arms make small movements in front of him. And then he lifts his hands to the waistband of his pants, hooks his thumbs under the black leather to slowly push the garment down.

The movement is agonizingly slow, only revealing an inch before he pulls back up and begins to drag down little by little, exposing pinkish-white satin briefs. Yoongi wants to grab onto the pockets and yank the material to the floor, losing all sense of sitting like a good boy.

"You're killing me," he grumbles, fisting the blanket tight.

With a giggle, Jimin stands, pushes the pants all the way to his thighs, and then sits again, grinding down on Yoongi's lap. The delicate curve of Jimin's waist into soft hips and a round, perfect ass has Yoongi reeling; the fact that he has Jimin all alone, and he is teasing him like this, is still a bit hard to comprehend. And, to make matters worse – or better – sticking out from under Jimin's satin panties are white lace garters connected to white mesh thigh-high stockings.

Yoongi groans, eager to show his appreciation while feeling at a loss for words, earning a light giggle in response.

"How badly do you want to touch me?" Jimin teases, glancing over his shoulder.

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth, raising his eyebrows while Jimin continues to watch him. "Oh, I'm going to fucking ruin you the second you give me permission to."

It is subtle the way Jimin's eyes widen and all mirth melts from his features – it only lasts a split second. But Yoongi clocks it, and he smirks, feeling victorious.

Jimin turns and stands, bending himself in half while pushing his pants down to his ankles, and Yoongi watches as more drool pools under his tongue, gaze drifting down to where Jimin peeks from around his ankles to smile before slowly standing back up. He steps from the crumpled leather and then kicks the garment away before turning to Yoongi with his cock straining hard in those tight little briefs as he straddles his lap.

"How was this performance, hyung?" Jimin asks, wrapping his arms around Yoongi's shoulders to play with his hair.

At some point, the song had changed, but Yoongi barely registers the downtempo beat, staring at Jimin, who giggles and wiggles his hips back and forth in a quick, playful movement. He lifts his right hand and then drops it back to the blanket with a groan, rolling his head back and taking a quick moment to close his eyes.

"It was more of a tease than the first one," Yoongi grumbles, tracing the soft lines of Jimin's neck and shoulders with his eyes before looking at his face. "But it was great, all the same; I thoroughly enjoyed it."

Jimin reaches down and palms over Yoongi's dick, which sits bunched up at an uncomfortable angle under restrictive denim, making him gasp from the pressure-ache that tears through him.

"I can tell how thoroughly you enjoyed it, hyung."

At this, Yoongi chuckles, biting the inside of his mouth and biding his time for when it is his turn to be a menace.

"Did you notice my final surprise?" Jimin asks.

"The garters and stockings?" Yoongi asks, eyes drifting downward.

"Not that," Jimin responds, and Yoongi cocks his head, unsure what he means.

"No…" he mutters.

Jimin stares incredulously, heavy-blinking in disbelief. "What, really?" he practically shouts. "My ass was right in your face, how did you miss it?"

"I mean…your ass is…surprisingly perfect," Yoongi tries.

With a playful huff, Jimin rolls his eyes, grabs Yoongi's right hand, and wraps it around him, making Yoongi cup one of his cheeks.

"You can touch only with this hand," Jimin says with an insistent gaze, "and only on my butt."

The material of these briefs is thin and smooth, gliding softly under Yoongi's palm. It takes Yoongi a moment of rubbing over the soft flesh, squeezing gently, and mapping its shape before his fingertips brush over something hard, making Jimin suck in a sudden gasp of air.

"Oh?" Yoongi asks, grazing his fingertips against the spot with more purpose, making Jimin squirm. "What have we here?"

Jimin whimpers as Yoongi presses against the hard, round surprise before taking a handful to squeeze and spread, turning his sounds into soft moans.

"Were you wearing this plug during the performance?" Yoongi asks, head tipped back to watch as Jimin's lips tremble and search for what to say.

"Yes," he finally sighs, lolling his head back with a moan when Yoongi passes his fingers firmly over it again.

"You performed wearing an anal plug?" Yoongi asks again, watching as Jimin's cheeks flush and his eyes widen.

Jimin leans forward and presses his forehead against Yoongi's, nodding while whimpering a broken, "Uh-huh."

"While dancing and singing and tugging on my hair?" Yoongi continues, "While those eager boys stood and watched you flirt with me, you wore this, hoping I would bring you back here and find it."

"Yes, hyung," Jimin moans, and god if Yoongi had not already been fighting back the urge to absolutely destroy this pretty man in the most delicious ways possible, he would be now.

"You wanted me to find this plug, hmm?" Yoongi presses and rubs over it, squeezing and spanking while his other hand grips onto the blanket for dear life. "Wanted me to bend you over and pull it out…stretch you further on my cock…didn't you?"

"Hyung," Jimin whines, hips rolling lazily into Yoongi's touch.

Without another word, Yoongi slides his hand away and anchors himself back against the bed. Jimin scrambles, sitting back with his eyes bulging wide, making Yoongi chuckle.

"So naughty," Yoongi teases, voice full of mirth and sparking a petulant fire in Jimin's eyes.

"Hyung!" Jimin shouts, lifting a hand to smack Yoongi on the chest, which Yoongi catches despite not being given instruction to touch, just yet. Jimin looks incensed and gasps, eyes going between Yoongi's hand and his face.

"It's my turn," Yoongi rasps, biting back a grin. "Let me touch you."

Jimin blinks at him, clearly still processing the teasing, and Yoongi raises his eyebrows, impatient.

"Fine," Jimin huffs brattily, yanking his hand from Yoongi's grasp and sliding from Yoongi's lap to take his place beside him on the bed. "It's your turn to strip, hyung. Give me a good show."

Yoongi stands, walks a couple paces into the room, and turns, letting the movement flow with the beat of whatever song is playing – something a little quicker-paced but still sexy enough to dance to. He rubs his hands over his neck, down his pecs, and over his tummy, watching as Jimin rests back on his palms with his thighs slightly spread, intently following every movement.

Then Yoongi grips onto the bottom hem of his shirt and pulls it quickly over his head, messing up his hair in the process. He flings the garment at Jimin with maybe just a little too much force, and it hits him in the chest, falling to his lap.

"Wh—hyung!" Jimin shouts, tossing the shirt aside as Yoongi quickly undoes his belt and fly and shoves his jeans to the floor, stepping out of one side and then the other, and then reaching down to yank away his socks.

"This is the worst strip tease I have ever seen!" Jimin shouts despite his eyes roving over Yoongi's body with a hunger that says otherwise.

Yoongi approaches in two swift strides and bends to take Jimin by the backs of his knees. He lifts and spreads Jimin's legs, sending his back crashing against the bed, scrambling and squealing while Yoongi leans forward, legs draped over his hips, and grins.

"What did I tell you I was going to do, Jiminah?" Yoongi asks sternly, caging Jimin in with his hands against the bed while Jimin's frantic movements cause their clothed cocks to rub against one another in an addictive jolt of energy.

"R-ruin me," Jimin pants as his flailing slows to a stop.

Yoongi grins. "That's right. I am going to absolutely ruin you. Now be good for me and get on your hands and knees."

It appears to take about two seconds for Jimin to process Yoongi's words before he crawls back on his elbows, getting fully onto the bed, and turning to position himself on his hands and knees while Yoongi sinks down to the floor. Jimin moves toward the center of the bed when Yoongi stops him.

"Ah, ah, come back here, pretty." He pats the mattress as if calling over a puppy. "Want you right here."

Jimin crawls backward with a somewhat dazed, borderline humiliated look on his face, and Yoongi waits patiently until Jimin is settled on the edge of the bed with his ankles hanging near Yoongi's head.

"Perfect," Yoongi groans as he sits high, reaches for the waistline of Jimin's pretty satin briefs, and pulls, uncovering his prize in all its soft yet muscular glory.

Yoongi practically moans at the sight of Jimin stretched around a metal toy with a light pink rhinestone in the center, and he wastes no time reaching two handfuls of soft flesh to squeeze firmly in his palms. He spreads his hands wide to graze his thumbs over the toy, then uses one hand to begin slowly tugging on it while keeping Jimin spread.

"God, look at you," Yoongi groans as Jimin's pucker tenses and relaxes with each movement. "Is this what you wanted? When you invited me to come watch you perform, did you picture me bending you over and playing with your ass afterward?"

"Yes," Jimin whines, sending a shiver down Yoongi's spine.

Yoongi uses his palm to gently strike Jimin's ass. The sound cracks through the room, punctuated by a moan, and Jimin shutters as he relaxes.

"What did you imagine, exactly?" Yoongi asks, hearing a dazed, "What?" come from Jimin.

"When you nestled this pretty little toy inside yourself tonight," Yoongi clarifies, rubbing over the reddened mark of his hand. "What were you imagining I would do to you?"

"I thought you would want to f-fuck me," Jimin says, sounding somewhat bashful. How cute.

Yoongi rubs over Jimin's ass with both hands, then taps the tip of his index finger over the end of the toy, making Jimin tremble. "Is that all?"

"N-no," Jimin whimpers.

"Awe, is pretty Jimin too shy to dirty talk to his hyung now that he has me right where he wants me?"

All he hears in response is a low whine, and Yoongi chuckles, smacking and squeezing Jimin's ass just enough to make his legs quake. He wonders if Jimin likes becoming pliant and malleable in someone else's hands.

"I can tell you what I imagine," Yoongi offers, sitting back before getting onto his feet to rub over Jimin's back and bend over him, draping himself to speak low into Jimin's ear.

Jimin nods.

"What I've imagined since the day we met—" Yoongi reaches with one hand to Jimin's chin and lifts his head up, then presses two fingers into his warm, wet mouth, "—is watching these sinful fucking lips wrap around my cock."

Jimin sucks on Yoongi's fingers, stirring a fire in his belly, and Yoongi nuzzles their cheeks together, pulling away as Jimin releases him with a pop.

"And what I've imagined since that little performance of yours tonight—" Yoongi gently grips Jimin's chin and pulls him so that he is held in place, back arched and neck craned, looking him in the eye, "—is the sight of you riding me…using me to make yourself cum…squeezing me so nice and tight…all while tugging on my hair."

Jimin's eyes blow wide, and he gasps, staring at Yoongi as if he has just personally hung every star in the night sky. Reverent.

"Would you like that, pretty?" Yoongi asks, and Jimin nods.

Yoongi grins. "Use your words, baby."

Brighter and wider, Jimin's eyes turn to heavenly disks, and Yoongi makes a mental note to call him baby a lot more.

"Yes, hyung," Jimin mutters sweetly.

"Say my name. Tell me what you need."

"Yes, Yoongi," Jimin responds. "I need…you. Anything you want, please."

With a soft kiss against Jimin's cheek, Yoongi lowers Jimin down, continuing to drape himself over his body, keeping his weight from pressing on him too much.

"Do you like to be more in control," Yoongi asks, dancing fingertips in Jimin's pink hair, "or do you like to submit?"

Jimin's voice has a slight tremble when he says, "Submit."

"Do you like it rough or soft?"

"Both."

Yoongi groans, pleased with that answer. "Do you have a safe word, baby?"

"S-strawberry."

"Strawberry, of course," Yoongi says, grinning. "Good. I'm going to make you feel so good, baby."

Yoongi feels Jimin's body relax beneath him as he sighs, "Please, Yoongi," in a voice fit for an angel.

Eager to learn all the pretty ways Jimin can sing, Yoongi gets back onto his feet, running his fingertips over the length of Jimin's back before dropping to his knees. He spreads Jimin wide, leans forward, and licks from just beneath the end of the plug to just above it, tasting cold metal and zirconia with a sticky-sweet hint of lube.

Jimin moans low and arches his back, pressing his ass against Yoongi's face, and Yoongi chuckles as he grips tightly to both cheeks and licks again and again, straight lines and rounded ones, tasting and teasing.

"Do you get really sensitive?" Yoongi asks as he rests his cheek against the soft curve of Jimin's ass and takes the end of the toy between his fingers, tugging it ever so slightly – just enough to make Jimin whine.

Jimin mutters a pitchy, "Uh-huh."

"Words, baby," Yoongi instructs with a somewhat stronger tug.

Jimin sobs as he says, "Yes, Yoongi!"

"Good," Yoongi groans as he nuzzles against Jimin and nips gently at his skin. "We're gonna have a lot of fun together."

With a firm tug, Yoongi begins to pull the toy, taking it nice and slow while Jimin's hole stretches around the bulb. Jimin sobs with shaking legs, and Yoongi lifts his head and drops a dab of spit as he pushes the toy back in and gives it another tug.

Back and forth, he tugs and presses, with more spit and kisses against Jimin's soft skin, again and again, until finally Jimin opens wide and releases the plug with a soft wail.

"That's it, baby," Yoongi praises, licking over Jimin's rim with a firm twist of his tongue, making him moan. "So good for me."

Yoongi stands on somewhat shaky legs – knees, and calves tired from being bunched up on the floor – and he moves to the bedside table, grabs a tissue from a small box, and places it down to rest the plug onto. "You got lube in here?" he asks, tapping his fingernails against the small door on the front of the table.

"No, on top," Jimin responds, and Yoongi glances around, then finds the bottle wedged behind the tissue box.

"Is this the lube you used earlier?" Yoongi asks as he returns and takes in the sight of Jimin on his knees with his face pressed against his floral comforter.

"Don't pick on me," Jimin pouts, frowning, making Yoongi chuckle fondly.

"Not picking on you, baby," Yoongi responds, patting the center of the bed, closer to the pillow. "Come up here."

With a whimper and even deeper pout, Jimin anchors himself on his hands, and – like a doe learning to walk for the first time – fumbles and sways with forward momentum until he slams his chest down onto a pillow and wraps his arms around it.

Yoongi gets onto the bed and crawls on his knees behind Jimin. The satin briefs are still around Jimin's legs, keeping him from spreading his knees too far, and Yoongi leaves them in place, curious how Jimin might enjoy a little movement restriction.

With his thumb, Yoongi flips open the lid of the lube bottle, then he squirts a generous amount onto his index and middle fingers and rubs the pad of his thumb through the sticky substance to warm it just a little. Then he rubs the slicked tips of his fingers over Jimin's hole, watching the way he trembles from even the slightest of touches.

Slowly, Yoongi presses the tip of his middle finger in, testing how far the toy has stretched him. Although Jimin moans, his voice is steady as Yoongi pushes all the way to his knuckle and twists. The muscle does not squeeze too tight, so he pulls out and gently slides in another.

With his index finger added, Jimin squeezes him with a deep whimper and then relaxes. Yoongi takes it slow, rubbing his palm soothingly over Jimin's ass and thigh, pulling his fingers back and pressing them forward little by little.

"Let me know if you need me to slow down or stop, pretty," Yoongi says as he watches his fingertips get swallowed.

"Don't stop," Jimin whimpers, "give me more."

"More?" Yoongi teases, drawing the word out nice and long.

"Please, Yoongi."

Yoongi twists his fingers as he pushes and pulls, listening to Jimin's deep voice become high-pitched and raspy. Satisfied with how Jimin feels around him – swallowing eagerly but not with a death grip – Yoongi adds his ring finger.

Jimin trembles and bleats broken syllables as Yoongi presses three fingers into him. He twists slowly and dribbles spit onto Jimin's rim, giving himself a little more slide, working himself a little deeper. And Jimin takes him so well until he gets to his knuckles and the stretch feels too tight.

"Fuck," Jimin gasps, legs quaking. "Feels s-so good, but it—'s too much."

"I got you, baby," Yoongi says softly, planting kisses over Jimin's ass and upper thigh as he slides his fingers out and pauses. "Call your safe word if you want a break."

"No," Jimin pants. "I don't want a break, your fingers are just…they're too good."

Yoongi chuckles, slowly pressing his fingers back in, stopping before the knuckles, as he says, "Just breathe for me," with his lips dragging over Jimin's soft skin.

Labored, panicked breaths make Yoongi smile and shake his head, and he slowly pulls out as he clarifies, "Breathe slowly, Jiminah. Don't make yourself dizzy; I don't need you passing out on me."

An impatient groan muffled by a blanket makes Yoongi sit up high on his knees and angle his body to get a look at Jimin, whose face is squished cutely into the bed with flushed cheeks and a frown in his brow.

"Ya, what is it?" Yoongi teases, using his lubed fingers to give Jimin's ass a little smack, smiling at how the man cries and quakes.

"Wanna ride you," Jimin groans indignantly.

Yoongi wants to rile Jimin up so badly. He considers tickling the man until he crashes to the bed laughing – and probably throwing a tantrum. He wants to threaten not to let Jimin do anything he wants, just so he can be pouty and bratty and make Yoongi put him in his place a little – gently and sweetly, of course. He has to hold his tongue to not chide the poor guy for how grumpy and impatient he is, even as Yoongi stretches him.

But he does not. Instead, Yoongi rubs both hands over Jimin's ass, spreading and squeezing while settling back down again. "I thought you wanted to be submissive," he asks, with only a hint of mirth.

"I do," Jimin responds, pout still evident in his tone. "I want to do both. I can't make up my mind."

"You can do both," Yoongi insists with a smirk, reaching for the lube bottle to slick his fingers back up. "I would love it if you rode me, baby. But if you can't take three knuckles, you sure as hell can't take my cock. So why don't you be a good boy and breathe nice and slow while I stretch you open, yeah?"

The breathy way in which Jimin mutters, "Yeah," tells Yoongi his message has been received loud and clear. The prospect alone of Jimin riding him has him very eager to get the other nice and ready.

Yoongi slathers his three fingers in lube and begins to press them in. Jimin still huffs his exhales, but he is breathing less like a man who might be dying, for which Yoongi is grateful. It takes plenty of twisting and coaxing to slowly get the muscles to open for him, but Yoongi is patient, kissing and sucking on Jimin's skin while watching his fingers get swallowed.

When Yoongi finally does finger Jimin past the knuckle – accompanied by a pitchy squeal and Jimin begging, "Fuck, fuck, don't stop, please don't fucking stop," – he stops, letting Jimin adjust to the stretch.

"That's it," Yoongi praises, rubbing his palm over Jimin's ass and thigh while his fingers stay nestled deep inside him. "I knew you could take me. Just had to be a little patient."

"I've fantasized about how your knobby knuckles would feel but fuck, they are so big," Jimin whines, making Yoongi laugh.

He squeezes Jimin's ass in his palm, then slowly begins to pull his fingers out, watching as Jimin opens wide to accommodate him once more. "You've fantasized about my fingers, huh?"

"H-hyung," Jimin groans, sounding embarrassed.

"Say my name, pretty," Yoongi sweetly commands as he twists his fingers out and begins to plunge them back in, meeting far less resistance.

"Y-Yoongi," Jimin sobs, trembling as Yoongi twists – pulling out and pushing back in.

The sight of his fingers getting swallowed whole has Yoongi's jaw hanging slack, drool pooling beneath his tongue. Jimin is an absolute vision, and the more his light-dusky pucker becomes flushed and reddened with pleasure, the hungrier Yoongi is to give and give and give. Anything to paint him prettily with bliss. Anything to hear the sweet, broken sounds he makes.

"What is it, baby," Yoongi asks, twist-pulling and plunging deep.

Jimin hiccups and Yoongi rotates his torso to lean just enough to see Jimin's fist grasping at the comforter. "N-need you."

"I'm here," Yoongi coos while rubbing his palm over Jimin's ass and lower back, fingertips mapping and memorizing. "You're almost ready for me."

Yoongi pulls out, then uses the index fingers of both hands hooked into Jimin's rim to open him nice and wide. Jimin sobs as Yoongi stretches him, slowly plunging his fingers in and out in a push and pull, watching as the welcoming rings of muscle tense and relax.

"Wh-what are you doing to me?" Jimin groans, as he sinks a little further forward, pushing his ass ever so slightly higher.

"Admiring you, baby," Yoongi says, sitting high on his knees to dribble a dollop of spit into Jimin's hole to squelch between his two fingers. "You have no idea how fucking perfect you are."

Jimin hiccups as he moans, and Yoongi slowly pulls out, one finger and then the other, watching as his pucker tightens and tightens.

"Alright, baby," Yoongi says as he sits back on his knees and open-palm kneads at Jimin's fleshy thighs, feeling supple skin, rough lace, and soft mesh against his palms. "Wanna be a good boy and show hyung how you ride cock?"

A pitchy, garbled, "Uh-huh," leaves Jimin's mouth in a rush as he pushes himself on shaking limbs until he is seated on his knees. Yoongi slides off the bed and walks toward the head, moving pillows and the comforter out of the way, revealing a pretty green floral sheet. He pushes his dark briefs down to the floor, stepping out of each side as he places his knees onto the bed, knee-walks the center, and then sits, spreading his thighs while Jimin grabs the bottle of lube and hobbles close.

Without preamble, Jimin cages Yoongi's hips between his arms and licks a slow stripe up the underside of his aching, neglected cock, sending a thrill of pleasure shooting through him that has a moan storming from his lungs. Yoongi's head thumps against the headboard as he sinks against the cool, wooden surface, and he lifts his hands to gently take Jimin by the hair and chin.

"Hyung tastes so good," Jimin coos sweetly, glancing up through his eyelashes while poking out his pretty pink tongue to lap at the dribble of precum at his tip.

Yoongi was not planning on getting his dick sucked – he was dead set on Jimin's pleasure first and foremost, eager to give absolutely anything to him that he wants. But if what Jimin wants is to put those pretty lips to use, Yoongi would not dare say no.

"Is that so?" Yoongi urges, eager to press Jimin to say more – hopeful that he will turn shy and sweet like before.

Jimin nods, blinking with a lust-drunk haze in his eyes before looking down into Yoongi's trimmed dark pubes as he says, "Salty-sweet…so yummy…"

"It's all yours, baby," Yoongi says as he drags his trimmed, blunt fingernails along the sharp lines of Jimin's jaw. "Anything you want, it's yours."

Jimin lets his tongue hang long, blinking upward while drool pools and dribbles onto Yoongi's tip, dripping down to disappear from view. "Want to make a mess," he slurs, barely pulling his tongue back enough to speak clearly.

"Yeah?" Yoongi urges, "you wanna make a mess of me, baby?"

Jimin nods, curving his lips upward, saliva pooling and dripping. Yoongi fights the urge to beg him to do more – wants Jimin to go at his own pace and enjoy himself, even if it means Yoongi vibrates with nerves and anticipation, bordering on impatience and flat-out desperation.

Luckily, Jimin does not make him wait long. With a deep, eager groan, Jimin sucks Yoongi's tip into his mouth without using his hands, then curves his back and neck, doing his best to swallow him down. Pleasure quakes through Yoongi, and he sinks further into the bed, dragging his head back against the headboard while he moans deep and appreciative.

He tips his head to the side to watch Jimin's spit-slick petal lips drag along his length. Jimin hums and moans, which vibrates just enough to make Yoongi shiver, sucking his cheeks and swishing his tongue in a hypnotic dance.

Slowly, Yoongi climbs to the precipice of bliss, further each time Jimin takes him a little deeper and swallows a little harder. Then Jimin changes position, sitting higher on his knees, and he takes Yoongi into his throat and swallows hard, sending a heavy wave of euphoria crashing inside him. Yoongi's fingers, which had been loosely holding onto Jimin's hair and face, grip onto Jimin's hair, and he tugs gently without pulling too hard.

"Shit, baby, that's it," Yoongi whines, voice coming out pitchy and breathy. "Won't last if you keep swallowing me like that."

Jimin hums and swallows harder, holding Yoongi in his throat long enough to make Yoongi begin to spiral; long enough for Jimin to come up for air with a heavy gasp. Spit hangs from Jimin's lips and tongue in thick strings, and when he blinks, mascara leaves little black streaks on his face.

"Pretty, messy baby," Yoongi praises with a smile that feels crooked and heavy. He knows he must look absolutely fucked out, and the way Jimin's eyes shimmer has affection blooming deep behind his ribs.

Jimin grins, then sinks back down, sucking and swallowing eagerly while setting a quick pace bobbing his head. The faint pass of Jimin's teeth along Yoongi's length sends a tickle up his spine that has his back arching, and with each upward stroke of his lips, spit collects and trickles, coating his balls and dribbling over his asshole.

Yoongi is close, and he grips Jimin's hair a little tighter, guiding his head a little deeper. He whimpers broken pleas for Jimin to keep going that hardly sound like words – whisps of sounds flitting into the air as he struggles to keep his bearings. Jimin's mouth is better than Yoongi could have possibly anticipated, and he submits fully to letting Jimin send him straight into the clouds. He wants to cum down that pretty throat so badly.

"Fuck," Yoongi mutters, finally finding his voice. "Gonna cum, baby. Will you swallow for me?"

Jimin seems to try to nod, muttering some kind of response that amounts to consonants and sputtered drool, and Yoongi loosens his grip on Jimin's hair, letting his hands slide and fall away to fist at the sheet, instead. It only takes three more passes of those perfect fucking lips to make Yoongi absolutely dissolve.

"Gonna c—" is all he chokes out before painting Jimin's tongue and throat.

Jimin gags slightly but continues to suck and swallow, humming and moaning between Yoongi's sharp, raspy sounds of pleasure. His orgasm flows through him hot and quick, erupting and intoxicating. Only once he is trembling from overstimulation does Jimin release his cock, licking once more from base to tip with his mouth hanging agape.

Streaks of viscous white streak Jimin's tongue, and Yoongi takes him by the jaw and gently lifts, urging Jimin to sit up and crash into him. Yoongi licks into Jimin's mouth, tasting his own heady release, and Jimin melts forward, laying his torso heavily against Yoongi while very slowly crawling up into a seated position on his lap.

"Was that what you were imagining, hyung?" Jimin asks against his mouth, making Yoongi chuckle.

"Better," he rasps. "I could never have imagined anything feeling that good, Jiminah."

Jimin blushes as he asks, "Did you like how my lips looked?" and Yoongi raises an eyebrow, tilting his head back to get a better look at him. "Wrapped around you," Jimin continues, nibbling on his plush, kiss-swollen bottom lip.

"You know I did." Yoongi leans in to place a soft kiss against Jimin's lips, deciding instead to suck them into his mouth, one after the other, making him giggle. "You looked and felt like heaven, baby."

Jimin leans back into Yoongi, wrapping his arms around his neck and gently tugging at his hair. They kiss, lick, suck, and nip in unhurried movements, tasting and teasing while Yoongi's dick recovers and begins to harden once more. Sticky-cool saliva transfers from Jimin's chin to Yoongi's, aiding in the mess that was promised, and Yoongi slowly sucks at Jimin's tongue tip, making him drool even more.

Time grinds to a halt, suspended and of no use to them. Yoongi passes his hands over Jimin's shoulders, down the slopes of his back and hips and ass – anywhere he can reach. Occasionally, Jimin shivers and sighs, and Yoongi cannot help but smile, endeared and eager to know every single sensitive spot he may have.

One of Jimin's hands leaves Yoongi's hair and travels down, tickling as his fingernails delicately scrape down his pec, across his ribs, to his hip. When Jimin wraps his hand around Yoongi's growing erection, engulfing him in pleasure and warmth, Yoongi gasps, rolling his eyes back and nodding as he mutters, "Almost ready for you."

Jimin releases Yoongi and reaches for the lube before using both hands to slick him up. Yoongi is grateful that Jimin does not warm it in his hands, hissing with delight at the cold touch. Jimin giggles deviously, chewing on his lip, and Yoongi gazes down at his cock between two slender, pretty hands before returning his attention to Jimin's face.

"Now are you ready, hyung?" Jimin asks as he sits high on his knees and positions himself over Yoongi's tip.

Yoongi uses both hands to steady Jimin's thighs, dancing his fingertips over the stockings, then gripping gently while Jimin reaches up to the top of the headboard and leans his chest close to Yoongi's face.

"I don't think I could ever fully be ready for someone as perfect as you fucking me, Jiminah," Yoongi confesses with a smile, tilting his head until his tongue is able to flit out and drag over a dusky, pert nipple. "You'll just have to give it to me; force me to be ready. Don't hold back."

"As you wish, hyung," Jimin responds sweetly as he begins to sink down.

The tip of Yoongi's cock breaches Jimin's hole with a shutter and whimper from both men in tandem. Yoongi grips Jimin's hips bruisingly, expecting Jimin to stop and adjust, but Jimin keeps lowering, down, down, down until he is fully seated and choking pretty, broken sobs.

Yoongi is overwhelmed with pleasure, squeezed with blissful tight warmth, and he quakes with each gentle squeeze of muscle around him. His breath feels heavy in his lungs, and as he lets out a groaned exhale, he releases his grip on Jimin's thighs and rests his head back in a desperate attempt to get his bearings, teetering on the brink of total mental collapse.

"Hol—" is all Yoongi manages to moan as Jimin lifts and drops, slamming his ass against Yoongi's thighs, letting out a dulcet whimper that is rivaled by Jimin's pitchier one.

"Big," Jimin mutters as he picks up a dizzying pace of slowly lifting before forcefully dropping, spearing himself so nice and deep, Yoongi feels like he may be carving the poor guy open.

Jimin is magnificent with his head tilted back and lips hung wide, whimpering as he rises and drops and rises and drops. Somehow exactly as Yoongi imagined, yet so much more. His cock glistens hard against his tummy, dribbling with precum and so neglected, bouncing against his abs with each drop, leaving a little splatter behind.

"I won't last," Yoongi admits, feeling the blissful, agonizing squeeze that is only intensified as Jimin's muscles flutter with pleasure. "I usually have more—ahh—s-stamina, but you feel so g-good."

"Awe, hyungie," Jimin purrs, tilting his head forward and opening his dreamy, lust-lidded eyes. "That's ok. I just hope you can keep going…ruin me like you promised."

"I can," Yoongi croaks. It will be much easier to stave off his orgasm when he is in full control; like this, he doesn't stand a chance.

"There's always tomorrow, too," Jimin mutters half-dazed, and Yoongi smirks at the prospect of Jimin wanting him after tonight.

Yoongi rubs his hands up Jimin's hips, along the delicate curve of his waist and the white lace garter, and further, palming over pecs. As Jimin lifts and drops, Yoongi almost feels overwhelmed by the arousal that pools and pools, warm and aching in his center, tingling to his limbs, filling him with desire. He wants to grab Jimin tight and fuck up into him, but Jimin feels and looks so amazing he lets him take his time.

With a grin that morphs into a bite of his lower lip, Jimin lifts his hips and swivels them, whorling around Yoongi's tip and tugging up, making him gasp and groan. Yoongi rubs his hands down to Jimin's waist and gently holds, helping keep him steady while the dancer twists and swishes, creating dizzying patterns to the song Yoongi barely hears over the pounding of his heart.

"God, your body…" Yoongi mutters, eyes heavy as he watches muscle tense and soften.

"You like how I feel, hyung?" Jimin mutters as he swirls up.

Before Yoongi can respond, Jimin begins to bounce his ass up and down to the beat of the background song, just fucking himself on Yoongi's tip – teasing in a most delightful way.

"How you feel…" Yoongi mutters, head rolling back against the headboard, looking down his nose at the beauty above him. "How you look, how you sound…you're fucking perfect, baby."

Jimin smiles and runs his hands over Yoongi's neck, then uses one hand to leverage himself on Yoongi's shoulder while the other takes a handful of hair and grips tight.

"You're just saying that because I'm fucking you," Jimin teases through gasps and whimpers, gaze turning sharp while he begins to drop his hips back down and spear himself deep.

Even with a cock buried inside him, Jimin is a brat. Yoongi finds it way too endearing, though he is eager to flip the pretty dancer over and fuck him so good he can no longer talk back. He rolls his eyes, moaning as Jimin rides him a little steadier, trying to ignore how rapidly his pleasure builds.

"True," Yoongi mutters, playing along. If Jimin wants to be petulant, two can play this game.

"Ah—" Jimin moans, "I knew it. Just using me for my perfect ass."

Yoongi's hands slide over the soft, inviting curves of Jimin's hips and ass, and he takes two splayed handfuls and gives him a squeeze, moaning, "Exactly."

With his palms gripping tight, Yoongi assists Jimin in his movements, lifting and dropping him in a nice steady rhythm. Rather than attempt to stave his high, he chases it now, eager to change positions and give Jimin more.

Jimin whimpers and sobs, breath coming out punchy and ragged while his tip leaks precum.

"Are you close, baby?" Yoongi asks, receiving only a whimpered, "Uh-huh," in response.

"What did I say about using your words?" Yoongi insists through grit teeth, finding it harder to steady his breathing and speak clearly.

"Yes, Yoongi," Jimin moans, sending a chill down Yoongi's spine at the sound of his name. "I'm so close."

Yoongi pulls one hand away, lifts it to his mouth, and spits into his palm. He stares up at Jimin as he wraps his hand around Jimin's cock head and squeezes just enough to elicit a moan and shiver from him, then he begins to stroke nice and slow, collecting dribbled precum on his palm.

"Hyung," Jimin whimpers, body tensing and relaxing over and over.

"Say my name, baby," Yoongi instructs with a smirk, watching Jimin's lips tremble and form unvoiced syllables.

Jimin leans forward and takes two handfuls of Yoongi's hair as he lifts and slams his ass with purpose. Each breath Yoongi pants hits Jimin's chest, creating a pocket of sticky warmth between them.

"Yoongi," Jimin whines as his grip tightens, tugging on Yoongi's scalp and making him hiss.

"Yes, baby?"

Jimin's voice cracks, barely croaking out the words, "I'm gonna cum."

"Cum for me, Jiminah," Yoongi moans, feeling his own high reach its peak. "Cum all over this cock, baby, let me feel you."

Jimin's muscles squeeze and release– frenzied and dizzying as his rhythm falters. Rather than lift, he grinds, burying Yoongi so deep, the air feels trapped in Yoongi's chest.

"That's it, baby," Yoongi wheezes through grit teeth, stroking Jimin at an angle that has him gently punching his fist against both their tummies. "Use my cock to get yourself off. Fuck, you feel so good."

Jimin's back arches and his body quakes as he cums. Yoongi squeezes at his tip, urging more and more release to coat his fist sticky-white, digging his heels into the mattress as he fucks his hips upward, just enough to get Jimin bouncing and moaning. Jimin squeezes him so tight, pushing him right over the edge.

"Gonna cum, baby," Yoongi groans as every nerve prickles tingly and hot, ready to burst.

"Fill me, Yoongi," Jimin sobs as he bounces in quick, shallow movements. "Make me messy."

The squeeze of Jimin's muscles, and fucked out, eager sound of his voice has Yoongi's orgasm hitting hard. He releases Jimin's cock, gripping onto his thighs with both hands as his body trembles roughly with pleasure. Yoongi barely makes a sound, rasping around heaving breaths as his eyes squeeze momentarily tight, attempting to relax as his orgasm pulses through him in tremendous bursts, making him see stars.

"That's it, hyung," Jimin whimpers, leaning all the way forward, draping himself over Yoongi's shoulders. "Feels so good."

Yoongi sits back, catching his breath as his cock softens, running his clean palm up Jimin's back while the cum-covered hand falls to the side. Jimin's muscles continue to flutter, and he nuzzles his face against Yoongi's neck, leaving lazy, wet kisses against the skin and filling Yoongi with butterflies.

The music continues to play, changing from one sexy beat to another. A female artist sings, but Yoongi is unable to make out what she is saying. His pulse thumps in his ears and throat, forcing each breath out in a lively beat of his own.

"It feels nice to just…sit here and hold you," Jimin mutters against Yoongi's skin.

"I would hug you back but one of my hands is covered in your cum."

Jimin hums in understanding, adding, "You got it on my thigh," with a familiar bratty tone.

"You wanted to be messy," Yoongi grumbles with a smile, feeling absolutely smitten.

Jimin groans, "I did," as he slowly begins to sit up, taking the warmth of his body away.

Yoongi shivers as the sweat that covers him turns cold. He tips his head back and looks up as Jimin settles on his lap, cock-warming him while sitting tall, smiling sweetly.

"I guess since you got what you wanted, you don't need me anymore," Jimin teases with a smirk and a lift of one eyebrow as he reaches out and undoes what is left of the bun in Yoongi's hair, tossing his trusty hair tie aside.

Yoongi rolls his eyes and lolls his head back, trying not to smile as he mutters, "Really, Jiminah?"

With wide, playful eyes, Jimin nods, sliding his ass up, up, up until Yoongi's soft, cum-covered cock falls away, making him shudder.

"You had a taste of my perfect ass, so—"

"Oh, I had a taste, alright," Yoongi interrupts with a grin, sitting up and causing Jimin to move slightly backward. "You think I'm gonna just leave now? Never to see you again?"

Jimin's playful demeanor begins to crumble as Yoongi lifts his soiled hand and begins to lick at what is left of Jimin's heady, salty-sweet release.

"Uh, I—" Jimin says, lips forming around syllables he never voices.

"What about promising me tomorrow? Hmm?" Yoongi asks before dragging his tongue over his knuckles, cleaning the remnants of Jimin's cum.

Now that his hand is far less messy, Yoongi grips onto Jimin's waist nice and tight and lift-pushes the dancer onto his back. Jimin yelps as he hits the pretty green sheet, pink hair sweat-stuck together in little spikes, fanning messily around his beautiful face.

"I'm not finished with you yet," Yoongi says as he gets onto his knees and towers over Jimin. "Weren't you just whining about me ruining you moments ago?"

Jimin giggles softly, reaching his arms to wrap around Yoongi's neck. Yoongi gently takes Jimin by the wrists and pushes his arms to the mattress, pressing his weight down, watching with delight as Jimin gasps and shivers beneath him.

"You really think I could only do this once?" Yoongi teases as he leans forward, crowding Jimin's space. "Now that I've had a taste of you, I'll be craving you, Jiminah."

"I-is that so?" Jimin breathes, head tilting as if offering the expanse of his neck to Yoongi – an invitation Yoongi takes as he drags his lips over salt-slick skin.

"That is so."

"Are you sure you can keep going?" Jimin asks sweetly. "You just came twice."

"I could fuck you all night, baby," Yoongi insists, licking and nipping until Jimin gasps. "Just need a moment to get hard again. Why? Can you keep going?"

Each breath that puffs from Jimin's lips sounds heavy. "I can, but…I might get overstimulated."

"I know," Yoongi groans with a smile. "I watched you fall apart on my fingers, remember?"

"I might get…really…lost," Jimin admits.

Yoongi releases Jimin's hands and moves them to the mattress so he can press more weight down and angle himself upward just enough to look Jimin in the eyes.

"Like, subspace?" Yoongi asks, watching Jimin's eyes widen.

"Maybe," Jimin mutters. "I just get really…floaty. Like my soul and body are disconnected…held together by pleasure."

Yoongi nods in understanding. "Do you want to hold off, then? Wait until we're more comfortable with each other before you go there with me?"

The smile that tugs on Jimin's lips is sweet, and his eyes sparkle as he says, "I have a feeling you will take good care of me, hyung."

Affection bursts warm in Yoongi's chest. "Of course, I will. But I still understand if that's something you want to build up to."

Jimin shakes his head and nibbles on his lip. "I trust you. I'll call my safe word if I need to."

"You don't go non-verbal at all?"

Jimin pinches his brow and shakes his head. "No."

"Alright," Yoongi agrees, eager to keep going as long as Jimin feels safe.

Jimin leans forward, groaning as his chin juts out, puckering for a kiss, making Yoongi chuckle softly. Yoongi closes the gap and presses further, allowing Jimin to lie comfortably, and he licks and sucks at Jimin's soft, sinful mouth.

"Sorry for ruining the mood with talking," Jimin mutters against Yoongi's lips.

Yoongi hums as he licks into Jimin's warm, petal mouth, opening him wide; making space. Jimin tastes so delicately sweet yet heady, and Yoongi has no choice but to chase every nuanced flavor, eager to discover more. Jimin's hums and groans are music to Yoongi's ears, and he swallows each sound with ease.

Rather than lifting his head, Yoongi simply stops kissing, letting his lips rest on Jimin, who smiles. Yoongi wishes he could adequately communicate just how important every little thing Jimin thinks, feels, and needs is, to him.

"Discussing boundaries is never a mood killer," Yoongi insists against his lips. "I never want you to hold anything back."

"Thank you, hyung," Jimin mutters, leaving pecks of soft kisses along Yoongi's mouth and chin.

"Don't thank me for doing the bare minimum, Jiminah. You deserve to be cared for."

The way Jimin squeals and wiggles beneath him makes his smile go lopsided. Yoongi lifts his head just enough to watch Jimin's cheeks flush, taking in the beauty of his shimmery and black makeup smudged around his eyes.

"Shut up," Jimin groans.

"Shut me up," Yoongi challenges with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Jimin tilts his chin up once more, chasing a kiss. As Yoongi leans down, giving into his desire, one warm hand wraps around his half-hard cock, making him shiver and groan; this certainly is one way to get him to stop talking.

"Want you again, Yoongi," Jimin pleads into Yoongi's open mouth, tugging on his cock. "Need you."

"You have me, baby," Yoongi practically moans, licking against Jimin's lips as his arousal simmers and warms him. "Turn over, on your stomach."

Jimin nods as he deepens the kiss, licking eagerly into Yoongi's mouth, sighing as Yoongi pushes and pulls with his tongue. When Jimin breaks the kiss, fingertips dig into Yoongi's neck and shoulder, and both men are panting, thickening the air between them with moist warmth.

Jimin begins to wiggle around onto his side, then his stomach, and Yoongi stays where he is, caging him in with his arms and lifting his knees one after the other to accommodate Jimin's legs. Once Jimin is settled, Yoongi leans forward and presses his lips to the back of Jimin's neck, nipping and swirling his tongue as Jimin moans, back bowing delicately – trembling.

Yoongi kisses down the curve of Jimin's spine, crawling backward onto his knees. He sucks marks at the top of Jimin's ass, nipping and licking over dewy-smooth skin and lifting his hands to cup and squeeze. As he sits up, he kneads gently into Jimin's perfect, pillowy flesh, spreading him wide. Jimin's puffy rim glistens with leaked cum, and Yoongi wets his lips as he runs two fingertips over the mess before pressing deep inside.

Jimin moans loudly, broken and debauched, as Yoongi fingers his tight asshole, feeling his own cum squelch, icky and enticing. He looks around for the bottle of lube and leans back, allowing his fingers to be slowly released as he reaches for it with his free hand.

"You sure you can keep going?" Yoongi asks as he flicks the lube bottle open with his thumb, caressing the soft swell of Jimin's ass and thigh.

"I'm not fragile, hyung," Jimin whimpers with his hands beside his head, clutching onto the comforter that has been bunched up and pushed out of the way.

"Never said you were," Yoongi smiles fondly, squirting lube into his palm and working it over his cock, hissing from the sensation on his tender skin. "Just don't want to push you too far."

Jimin groans a pitchy sound that Yoongi assumes is impatience. "We already discussed this. My safe word is strawberry, hyung. Please fuck me."

Yoongi rubs his lubed hand sloppily over Jimin's hole, nibbling his lip as Jimin bucks and trembles against him. "Say that last part again."

There is a second of hesitation, followed by a soft sigh that makes Yoongi grin. He opens his mouth to ask again nicely, but Jimin beats him to it, muttering, "Please fuck me, Yoongi."

Jimin spreads his thighs flat against the bed and extends his legs straight, laying in a perfect split, and Yoongi gasps at the sight of him. He leans forward to accommodate the new height, gripping onto his length with one hand and Jimin's hip with the other. With a devious giggle, Jimin begins to bounce his ass, clapping his cheeks softly in a show that has Yoongi absolutely reeling.

Without a moment more to spare, Yoongi leans forward on his knees and lines himself up with Jimin's rim, using his non-sticky hand to guide one of Jimin's hips. "You're a fucking menace," he groans as he presses in, in, in, spearing Jimin open as they whine and moan in tandem, feeling pleasure burst through his limbs like rays of warm, alluring light.

"Squeezing me, baby," Yoongi rasps as he slowly slides out, giving Jimin no time to adjust. He places both hands on Jimin's hips and begins to rock his body, fucking into Jimin without moving his own hips. The delicate, elongated stretch of Jimin's mesh clad legs, right down to the tips of his pretty little toes has Yoongi torn between wanting to cherish him like something delicate or completely wreck him.

"Such a slutty little dancer and you're all mine," Yoongi teases as he continues to rock Jimin's hips against him, watching his puffy rim swallow him whole. "What would your admirers think if they knew you wore a plug on stage while you were doing the splits to tease me?"

"Hyung," Jimin whines, burying his face down into the comforter.

Yoongi slides his hands to the bed and leans forward, slowly thrusting his hips up and down while walking his hands up to Jimin's armpits, hovering nice and close. The scent of strawberry mixed with a faint, sweaty musk is sticky-sweet enticing, and Yoongi lets his eyes flutter closed as he takes a deep breath in.

"You even performed for all of our friends wearing a toy," Yoongi rasps beside Jimin's ear. "What would they think of you?"

"Stop," Jimin whines, dragging the word long and whiny.

Yoongi nuzzles his face against Jimin's nape, nipping at short pink hairs. "Alright, I'll stop teasing you, baby," he mutters sweetly, smiling at the sound of Jimin cooing happily.

"Mmm, I like it," Jimin admits with a groan, making Yoongi nuzzle harder, grinning at the thought of Jimin feeling shy.

The smacking of skin is heard in lewd, rhythmic bursts. Yoongi fucks Jimin nice and steady, listening for the strained "Ah!" that punctuates each thrust, huffing small sounds of his own.

Yoongi begins to sit back, careful not to let his hips lose too much rhythm. Once on his knees, Yoongi spreads Jimin wide with both hands and leans his weight into him, fucking him much faster. Jimin jiggles hypnotically, and Yoongi gives him light spanks to each cheek, unable to resist playing with him; delighted by the sound of him squealing.

"Hyung, I want to cum again," Jimin cries, gripping the floral blanket tight.

Yoongi wants to watch him cum – wants to touch and tease his cock while praising him and making him sob. As he slowly pulls out, Jimin trembles and groans in protest. Yoongi gives his ass a couple of light taps and mutters, "On your back."

"Hyung" Jimin complains, elongating the word, making Yoongi smirk.

Jimin crawls slightly forward and bends at the knees, then flops onto his side, huffing dramatically as if he cannot be bothered to move a single inch more.

"I know, I know," Yoongi mutters, grabbing Jimin by the hips and pulling him the rest of the way onto his back. Jimin squeals and laughs, spreading his legs wide while watching with eager, mascara-smudged eyes as Yoongi continues to position him right where he wants him.

"Sorry I can't choose between wanting to see your ass and wanting to see your face," Yoongi grumbles defensively while pumping his cock and reaching for the bottle of lube. He squirts some directly onto his shaft – cool liquid on warm skin – and he smears it in one stroke.

"Wow, and they say chivalry is dead," Jimin teases, lifting his eyebrows playfully with a grin.

Yoongi slides his length into Jimin's tight warmth in one swift movement, and Jimin's grin falls agape as his back arches. He lets out a deep, pleased moan that Yoongi mirrors with a slow intake of air, filling his lungs. The curve of Jimin's neck, along his chest, and down to his tummy bows delicately taut, and Yoongi maps each inch with his eyes, stunned by his beauty.

When Jimin settles slowly onto his back, Yoongi reaches forward and slots two fingers into Jimin's mouth. Jimin clamps his lips closed and gently sucks as Yoongi begins to set a steady pace with his hips.

"Good boy," he praises, and Jimin's eyes blow wide. "So fucking good for me. So pretty and tight and perfect."

Jimin anchors himself onto his elbows, muttering something that sounds like a question, and Yoongi nods, smiling sweetly down at Jimin, watching his hard, leaking cock slap his tummy with each thrust.

"Perfect, pretty Jiminah. And you're all mine."

More sounds are uttered around Yoongi's fingers as Jimin's eyes roll and his head bobs with the rocking of their bodies. Yoongi reaches between them and rolls his palm over the tip of Jimin's cock, eliciting his eyes to open big and round.

Already, Jimin looks dazed, back draped slightly with his head held up only enough to suck on Yoongi's fingertips, supported against his elbows. Jimin's fingers slowly dance over the material of his green floral sheet, legs flayed lazily around Yoongi's hips.

Yoongi slowly tugs at Jimin's length, making him whimper and sputter incoherently. Jimin rocks his hips and squeezes around Yoongi in a rhythm matching Yoongi's thrusts – must be chasing his own high. Seeing Jimin looking dazed and eager to cum again, stuffed with fingers and cock, Yoongi's mind races as he attempts to sort out how he got so fucking lucky.

"'S good," Jimin whines, dropping his head back and letting Yoongi's drool-slick fingers drag over his chin.

Yoongi continues his pace – a deliberate roll of hips – letting his fingers slowly fall past Jimin's chin, to his chest, tracing curves and dips until finally taking hold of him around the ribs. Gradually, Jimin's arms give way, and he lies back – head first, then shoulders, sinking deeper against green flowers with his eyes hazy and wide.

"Are you floaty, Jiminah?" Yoongi asks sweetly, wetting his salty-dry lips.

Jimin hums and crooks a lazy smile, lifting his hands slowly to rub over his pecs and tummy. Yoongi follows the movements, feeling affection swirl and swell behind his ribs. At this pace, he thinks he could fuck Jimin for an eternity if he tried; his pleasure simmers just below the surface nice and steady, with no risk of boiling over too soon.

"Ah—Yoongi," Jimin gasps, chest heaving and falling. "I'm—"

Yoongi rolls his palm over Jimin's tip and gives him a firm enough squeeze to make him sob.

"Gonna cum, pretty?" he asks.

Wide-eyed and mouth droopy-round, Jimin nods. His lips form shapes unvoiced, and Yoongi continues to roll and squeeze, languidly syncopating his quicker thrusts.

"Cum for me, baby. Get nice and messy."

Jimin's eyes flutter, and his back arches slowly, head and heels digging into the mattress. "Please, please, please," he mutters softly like a prayer, palms flaying and squeezing above his ribs.

"Relax and let go," Yoongi urges sweetly. "Let yourself float."

As if reacting on command, Jimin's body goes rigid and taut before quaking and sinking – thunder growling from his depths and dispersing out. He spurts tiny piles of cum onto Yoongi's fingers and palm, mouth forming softly-uttered stormy sounds. Even in the throes of incomprehensible bliss, every little thing Jimin does is eloquent; a performer and a muse.

"Harder," Jimin groans, taking Yoongi by surprise. "P-please, Yoongi, need you."

Yoongi grips Jimin's hips with both hands, smearing cum on his sweat-slick, goosebumped skin. He picks up a pace that has Jimin's legs lifting and stretching, and Yoongi slings both calves against his shoulders before leaning in and taking hold of his hips once more.

Jimin wails, eyes squeezed as if pained, licking and biting at his reddened lower lip. His arms lift and fall around his head, and he grips onto the bunched-up pink and orange comforter.

"This how you want it?" Yoongi asks, feeling his high build and build, impossible to hold at bay.

"Mmm, 's good," Jimin slurs, opening his eyes wide and smiling before his face falls back into a state of lazy bliss.

Yoongi would love for Jimin to cum once more but has no idea whether he can. His cock is limp and resting against his patch of cutely trimmed pubic hair, jostling with each slam of Yoongi's hips against his thighs.

"Not gonna last at this pace," Yoongi warns through grit teeth, his high climbing fast toward its breaking point.

"Fill me," Jimin mutters dazedly. "Make me messy."

"Say my name," Yoongi rasps as he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes closed, gripping harshly to Jimin's soft hips.

"Yoo—" Jimin sighs, bowing his back. "Yoongi. Please, Yoongi."

Pleasure courses through Yoongi, flowing like lava in his bloodstream. He keeps his pace steady, holding back from slamming too fast or too deep. Cum and lube squelch around his cock, and the thought of watching it drip from Jimin's used, puffy hole is just the push he needs to reach orgasm.

"Fuck, Jiminah," Yoongi groans, dragging blunt fingernails in streaks along Jimin's sides. "I'm—ahh, fuck!"

Yoongi's body tenses and releases in waves of pleasure – white-hot and overwhelming. He quakes as he spurts his cum into Jimin's begging, fluttering hole, babbling nonsense, attempting to praise, failing around each syllable. Jimin sobs and squeezes, trying but failing to reach for Yoongi.

With a chuckle, Yoongi leans forward, hands slipping and crashing into the mattress, dripping sweat from his forehead to Jimin's chest. Now that he is within reach, Jimin reaches and clings, grabbing Yoongi's shoulders and yanking down until Yoongi gives in and falls forward. Pleasure continues to tremble through him – chest heaving and jumpy as he does his best to settle and relax.

"Holy shit," he mutters into Jimin's clavicle, covering his face in sweat. "That was—"

"Amazing," Jimin coos.

Yoongi smiles and nods, kissing anywhere his lips reach in slow movements. "Amazing."

Where they lay in the center of the bed, Yoongi is unable to stretch his legs far before hitting the headboard, so they stay in a ball while he catches his breath and litters Jimin's shoulder, neck, and chin with affection. It takes time, but Jimin begins to come back to earth, clinging a little more purposefully.

"You made me messy," he mutters with more clarity than Yoongi has heard for a while.

"Lemme see," Yoongi says as he sits up, groaning from his soft cock sliding from where it was nestled nice and warm.

Jimin groans shyly, covering his face with his hands as Yoongi sits up and lifts his spread legs. He puts up a tiny amount of resistance, but Yoongi holds firmly, nibbling his lip, trusting Jimin to use his safe word if he really does not want to be teased.

Dropping a leg to the side, Yoongi uses his thumb to press pearly liquid back into Jimin's puckered hole, grinning like an idiot when Jimin whimpers, legs shaking.

"Messy baby," Yoongi teases, earning his arm a light smack from Jimin's foot.

Yoongi pulls his fingers away and watches as Jimin tenses, causing the cum to dribble back out. He rubs his hands over Jimin's shins and calves, watching as Jimin heavy-blinks at the ceiling.

"Shower?"

Jimin's gaze finds Yoongi's, and he smiles, then nods. "Carry me?" he asks with a cute bat of his lashes that makes Yoongi's heart go haywire.

And although Yoongi makes a show of rolling his eyes and being indignant, he gets up and stretches, then turns his back to Jimin and taps his shoulder.

"Get on."

"Ooh, piggyback?" Jimin shouts, and Yoongi turns his head in time to see Jimin sit high on his knees and fling himself over Yoongi's shoulders.

Yoongi links his arms around sweaty thighs and has to bend and hop a few times to get Jimin in place – a mildly humiliating task while nude – then he is off, kicking discarded clothing items along the way.

"We should take a bath," Jimin mutters into Yoongi's shoulder.

Yoongi hums and nods, turning left into the hallway and again into the bathroom. "Anything you want."

Although Yoongi would love to dote on Jimin hand and foot, he is grateful when Jimin slides off his back and begins the bath, finding sweetly-scented bubble products to squeeze into the stream and controlling the temperature. Jimin slides out of the lace garter and mesh stockings, and sinks into the tub when the water is barely a few inches high. Yoongi presses a kiss on his forehead before leaving to fetch a glass of cool water from the kitchen, lingering just a moment to take in the sunflower pan holders and mismatched cooking utensils.

Yoongi returns with the glass to his lips, taking slow, steady sips and smiling over the rim.

"Sit up and drink this," he instructs a sleepy Jimin, whose cheeks are pinkened from the warm water.

Once the bath is full, Yoongi slots himself behind Jimin, fitting perfectly with his legs outstretched. He rubs Jimin's shoulders and litters him with kisses. And when the water cools, he insists they shower off, helping Jimin finger the cum from his ass while licking deep into his mouth.

"I could get used to this," Jimin groans as Yoongi wraps a towel tightly around his hips and uses another to squeeze the remaining water from his hair.

"Good," Yoongi responds against his lips, finding it impossible to spend too many minutes without touching and kissing. "Want you to get used to this."

"Stay the night," Jimin whines, wrapping his arms around Yoongi's middle and walking him backward out of the bathroom.

Yoongi smiles and nips at petal lips. "That was the plan."

"Stay tomorrow night, too," Jimin groans as they hobble out into the hallway, bumping Yoongi's elbow against the doorframe enough to make him hiss.

"Won't you get tired of me?" Yoongi barely utters slightly pained against Jimin's soft, greedy mouth.

Jimin releases their hug and pulls Yoongi by the hand back to bed. He has a pep in his step as he gathers his phone – shutting off the music, finally – and finds the lube bottle tangled in the blanket.

"Doubtful," Jimin finally says as he crawls into bed and plops down, yanking Yoongi's hand until he sits and lays beside him.

"Alright," Yoongi grins, wrapping himself around Jimin and pulling him close, chest to chest, on their sides. His hair is still damp, but he is unconcerned when Jimin beckons so adamantly. With a gentle teasing tone, he says, "I'll cancel all my foreseeable plans and live only to serve you."

Jimin smiles and hums, saying, "Good," into Yoongi's mouth.

In a tangle of tongues and limbs, Yoongi sighs and sinks, unable to hold back the affection that overflows from him. He thinks he could also get used to this.

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#yoonmin #yoongi x jimin #yoongi smut #jimin smut #btswritersclub #bangtantheatrenet #bts smut #bts fluff #fic: denim & strawberry

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