take flight (hoaegi) wrote,
take flight
hoaegi

[suga/jimin] blow my heart up

[bts] blow my heart up
suga/jimin
nc-17; 6,000w
Yoongi really likes the look in Jimin’s eyes when he’s getting told off for making mistakes.
warning(s): spanking, slight dom/sub, light breathplay, orgasm denial, praise kink



It’s always like this – for some reason, while Jimin is the ultimate perfectionist amongst them (especially when it comes to dancing), and despite always being insecure and feeling that he isn’t good enough – despite always pushing himself to his limits, much to Yoongi’s chagrin, he always panics onscreen, and make mistakes. It’s okay, Yoongi thinks, though he doesn’t say anything to the younger boy, since his mistakes are just stepping out with the wrong foot and missing the beat by half a second. Jimin takes all of them very seriously and personally, expression darkening with every small thing he screws up when the cameras are on. He still plasters on a huge, stupid smile for the cameras, and for almost every time, everyone pretends not to see.


Almost every time.


When they’re finally up on Weekly Idol again, Jimin being the infamous weak link in their random play dance games, they don’t say anything to Jimin because after all, it’s just a game, for fun, for variety. And yet, Jimin can’t feel anything except the tight, anxious grip around his heart. Taehyung shoots him a worried glance before the recording starts but Jimin just shakes his head with a small smile.


It’s for fun. And that’s why they’re all eager to point Jimin out, yank him out of formation so that he gets to receive the punishments instead of the rest of them. The MCs are always nice to them, and Heechul is already taking a liking to him, so he guesses that it’s not going to be that bad when they all yell his name consecutively, music stopping.


Until it’s announced that to get Jimin to stay focused and work harder, the punishment this round will be to get smacked in the ass by the members, and then receive cheek kisses from the MCs. Jimin’s heart starts pounding really quickly (at this point, he isn’t sure which part scares him more), and he flounders a bit, stumbling over his words before deciding not to say anything at all and quietly accepts the punishment. Yoongi is the first to step out, dishing the punishment out in a strong, quick strike against his right asscheek. It stings; the sound of the strike resonating loudly in the basement and Jimin tries his best to hold his voice back because the microphone clipped on his shirt is so close. The warmth of Yoongi’s huge palm draws away slowly and Jimin ignores the creeping curl of heat in the pits of his stomach and the slight static that travels up his spine, making him shiver.


When Jimin manages to hold himself back and stay still for the rest of the punishments, he finds that the irritating, buzzing heat in his body doesn’t go away, even as the recording comes to an end and they say their goodbyes to everyone.


The van they use for transportation has always been a little cozy, beginning to edge on uncomfortable now since they’ve grown quite a bit, legs stacked crassly over each other and hips that bump into each other too often. They’ve even shuffled their seats a few times to accommodate Jungkook’s growth spurt and the resulting long legs (that Yoongi keeps complaining about, since Jungkook can’t stay still for long – even in his sleep – and Yoongi just wants to sleep on the van), and Jimin finds himself wedged between Yoongi and Seokjin in the back row since both Yoongi and Seokjin like to sleep with their heads against the window. Jimin has no complaints though, like always, but he takes extra care not to make unnecessary movements in case the two older members wake up.


Admittedly, it’s a bit challenging for Jimin to stay as still as he can since he can’t afford to lean on either one of the hyungs whenever the vehicle takes a sharp turn, only cursing under his breath as he latches one hand onto the handle above Yoongi’s head, barely avoiding collision with the hyung. Jimin sighs in relief when Yoongi doesn’t move, and shifts back to his seat in the middle until Yoongi stirs ever so slightly, and then Jimin feels a hand on his thigh.


It only takes a moment to pass before Jimin jerks his head towards Yoongi to find the older male staring at him with dark, sleep-laden eyes, and Jimin gulps when Yoongi says nothing but squeezes his thigh with some strength. Jimin’s eyes widen as he flinches, feeling the same heat from before creep up his abdomen in tickly flames, and feels it spread flush against his thighs. He looks at Yoongi in slight horror, not exactly scared of what he’ll do to him but what he’s already making him feel. Yoongi’s gaze is way sharper and more alert than a few seconds before, and his fingers are digging into Jimin’s jeans, alternating between soft kneading and hard pinches. It takes all of Jimin not to scream and ask Yoongi what he’s doing, so he only manages to grab Yoongi’s wrist and glare at him questioningly.


“I saw your face when you got hit just now,” Yoongi’s breath is too warm against the shell of Jimin’s ear when he leans in, his chest already pressing close against Jimin’s shoulder and Jimin shivers, despite the thick jacket he has on. Seokjin is still snoring softly, unaware, off at the right of Jimin, and his eyes dart around to check that no one’s watching this exchange now. “You liked that, didn’t you?” Yoongi continues, tone assertive – that wasn’t a question, but an accusation, and Jimin is about to deny before Yoongi presses a finger on Jimin’s lips, effectively shutting him up.


“I didn’t ask.”


Jimin’s throat dries up a little at that, so he swallows his words back and allows himself to nod slightly. The finger on his lips is then removed as Yoongi decides to place his hand on Jimin’s thigh again. “Hyung,” Jimin croaks, as quietly as he can, “what do you mean? I didn’t like—”


A quick pinch on his thigh has Jimin clamping a hand over his mouth, silencing his cry and has him rudely interrupted by Yoongi, a small smirk present fleetingly at the sides of his lips. Yoongi rubs the skin where he pinched earlier, as if to soothe the pain, but all Jimin feels is more and more fire building up in his body with each touch Yoongi is giving him, and he wriggles in his seat, hoping that Yoongi doesn’t notice that he’s starting to get hard.


Seokjin shifts a little beside him, and Jimin actually jumps, thighs closing together on reflex as his back goes rigid, but Seokjin continues to snore instead. Distracted, Jimin tries to be as discreet as he can to make sure that everyone is sleeping so that he doesn’t have to feel this paranoid but Yoongi is so calm, still so fucking calm beside him. Even through the thick material of his jeans, Jimin can feel the warmth of Yoongi’s palm against his skin and for the briefest of moments, wonders how warm it would feel like if Yoongi touched his skin directly instead. He entertains the thought for a moment more before he’s yanked back to reality by Yoongi’s hand steadily shifting up. Yoongi leaves fleeting touches against the side of Jimin’s hip, then slips his hand past the hem of Jimin’s shirt to leave light, distracting slides against the smooth expanse of skin right above Jimin’s jeans. Then he slides his hand down, he’s so close, so close


Before Jimin realizes, his eyes are screwed shut in some kind of screwed up anticipation as Yoongi withdraws his hand completely, a satisfied grin on his face. Jimin shrinks a little in shame, internally cursing himself for actually expecting – and wanting Yoongi to touch him like that, to touch him more. It’s a sickening thought, they’re close bandmates, and Yoongi is someone Jimin admires and respects a lot. It’s frustrating, because Jimin’s trying to calm down, to refuse the annoying pulses of arousal in him and to forget the momentary feelings he just had for Yoongi, but Yoongi ruins it all by simply leaning in close again.


“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi mutters, voice rumbling low as Jimin tries his best not to look over, “will you admit that you liked the punishment just now, hmm?”


Jimin’s throat is dry again, his thoughts in a mess as he tries to give a coherent answer while ignoring the feeling of his erection straining against his pants. He ends up just looking at Yoongi pleadingly, words not leaving the tip of his tongue. Yoongi’s hand comes up and his fingers curl in Jimin’s hair. Jimin winces, and Yoongi grabs a fistful of hair next. “You can’t lie to hyung, Jimin. Naughty, lying boys get punished.” Jimin’s eyes are half-lidded as Yoongi shifts closer, voice dripping with dark intentions, “we don’t want that, do we? Hyung doesn’t want to punish Jiminnie.”


The way Yoongi is looking down at him with dark eyes now has Jimin breaking out in a shiver, and he nods frantically, hands clutching at Yoongi’s loose shirt with unstable hands. “I did, Yoongi-hyung,” he answers, voice shaking as well, and avoids Yoongi’s strong gaze as he lowers his head, embarrassed at his own verbal confession.


As the van turns into their street, Yoongi lets go of Jimin’s hair, sends him a warm smile and gives his thigh a promising squeeze, fingers digging into his thigh especially hard as his smile disappears as quickly as it came. “Of course, our Jimin’s a good boy,” Yoongi says, then the volume of his voice dips a notch lower, “come see hyung at the studio after self-practice session today. Got it?”


Jimin’s cheeks are dusted a deep red by now and he can’t find the strength in him to speak after receiving that unexpected praise, so he nods silently, quickly pulling his shirt to cover the fly of his jeans as Seokjin slowly stirs awake, long arms pulling Jimin in for a sleepy, warm hug.




The whispered promise, laced with dark intentions, has Jimin tensed up in anticipation and he curses at the strange, fluttering feeling of excitement boiling in him as he waits, waits for the long hours to pass, holding on to the low baritone of Yoongi’s voice – remnants in his memory – and the occasional sparing glances from the rapper throughout the rest of the day. He’s so distracted by everything that he actually misses the beat again, during one of their last practice rounds, and Hoseok is already ready to tell him that it’s fine like he always does, but Jimin’s eyes are glassy and dazed, as if he isn’t here. Hoseok freezes on the spot and gently holds onto Jimin’s shoulders to ask if he’s fine, but Jimin only flinches, and then grins quickly, clearing his throat. “I’m okay, hyung,” Jimin assures with a thumbs up, and shuffles back into position, not missing the way his neck feels like it’s burning with Yoongi’s dark gaze locked onto him.


When their choreography trainer announces the end of the practice session for the day, the boys let out a loud collective groan as they thank their trainers with tired voices and at the side, Namjoon is already on the floor, chest heaving as he whines at the ache in his arms. He sits up anyway, pulling his legs in to sit cross-legged, and motions for the members to gather. “Yoongi-hyung said he has to do some extra recording for the new album, so he’ll need you guys to go to the studio one by one.” Yoongi nods. “We’re starting with the rappers and then the vocals so I’ll go first, Jimin will be the last, and everyone else can pick their own spots. That’s all, good work today guys.”


Jimin feels a dull ache in his stomach as he thinks about having to wait for everyone to finish before his turn to meet Yoongi, and wonders if that’s all part of Yoongi’s sick plan, since he knows that Yoongi takes the longest to record out of all their producers, and it’s already 8 at night, so by the time it’s Jimin’s turn it would be about midnight already. Could Yoongi be doing this on purpose? Make Jimin wait until he’s every bit of antsy and frustrated all over and then telling him that he has to wait even more? He looks over to Yoongi, and to his surprise, Yoongi is already staring at him, unblinking as his dark eyes meets Jimin’s gaze. Jimin’s heart pounds at the intensity of the gaze and feels his palms get clammy, the uncomfortable feeling pooling inside him as he tears his eyes away.


“I’m gonna go after the rappers first!” Taehyung demands, latching himself onto Jimin’s back and Jimin has to suck in a quick breath at the sudden contact, shaking his head to will the images of Yoongi out of his head. “But why is Jimin last?”


“He’s gonna take really long so you guys don’t have to wait for him,” Yoongi replies easily, draping the towel around his neck as he picks up a water bottle from the floor and drinks. Jimin pretends he’s not watching as the water escapes the sides of Yoongi’s mouth to leave a bright trail pass his jawline, down his neck, and disappears beyond the collar of his sweatshirt. But Yoongi catches him – lazy, droopy eyes flicking to Jimin’s and Jimin quickly looks away.


The rest of them work out their respective turns through long games of scissors-paper-stone and Yoongi just leaves first, tugging a tired Namjoon with him as he closes the door behind.




When they get back to the dorm, the first thing Jimin does is to call dibs on the shower, voice loud and piercing so that everyone lets him go, despite Hoseok and Taehyung’s tired whines of protest since they’re next after Namjoon. Jimin just sticks his tongue out, turns the heater on, grabs his clothes and locks the bathroom door right behind him.


Jimin turns the shower spray to the maximum force as he breathes heavily, the water hot and stinging against his warm skin, skin that has been flushed for the good half of the day. The heat feels welcoming against his scalp and his back, but Jimin curls his hand around his cock hurriedly, his other hand coming up to clamp his mouth shut so that he can’t make any noises. Jimin doesn’t know if he’s ever been this hard before, but arguably, he’s been hard ever since they were on the van, so this isn’t surprising. His cock is swollen and red, twitching slightly as Jimin tightens his grip and the hot water is making everything so hot that he imagines Yoongi’s soft touches along his thigh, soft promises that feel as hot as the water from the showerhead and how Yoongi knew that Jimin liked the spanking punishment. His strokes turn quick and messy, and he’s just fucking into his hand now, biting down on his knuckle, imagining the heat all over his body to be how it’s like when Yoongi finally gives him what he wants, makes him feel hot all over.


There’s a frantic knock on the door as Jimin comes, and Hoseok is complaining about how he only has fifteen minutes left to shower. Jimin takes a deep breath to calm down as he yells I’m almost done, voice almost cracking at the end as he watches the trail of cum get washed away, and turns the tap off.




It’s honestly disturbing when Jimin finds that he’s still half-hard after the shower session, and he has to change out of his sweatpants into a pair of jeans so that he can better hide his erection, especially when Taehyung is still in their room, starting to eye Jimin suspiciously as he flips through a comic book idly. “Jimin, are you okay?”


Jimin blinks and shifts so that he’s laying on his side on the bed, blanket pulled up to his chest as he nods. “I’m fine, why do you ask?”


“I don’t know,” Taehyung replies, shrugging, “you just felt off to me today. You sure nothing’s wrong?”


A text Taehyung receives from Yoongi informs him that he has about fifteen minutes left to his turn, so Taehyung gets up and starts preparing for stuff to bring to the studio, humming a slow tune as he packs his bag. Jimin ignores the slow burn in his pants as he hears that the text was from Yoongi, and stares at Taehyung’s back. “I’m fine, Tae,” he mutters, ignoring the straining feeling against the fly of his jeans, “you should go.”


“I’ll be back soon,” is what Taehyung leaves him with, and even though there’s still a hint of worry in Taehyung’s honest eyes, Jimin only curls up in his blankets further, letting out a shaky breath only after Taehyung is gone. He can’t risk having Hoseok walking in to him jerking off again, so he pretends to be asleep even when Hoseok and Taehyung come back. When Taehyung finally shakes his shoulders gently to tell him to go to the studio, Jimin rubs at his eyes in feigned sleepiness and waves bye to the two lazily.

Jimin can lie to anyone but he can’t deny the gnawing feeling of anticipation and the soft pangs of arousal in his abdomen as he opens the door to the studio. Yoongi is there, headphones on and shoes off as he adjusts Jungkook’s earlier recording on his computer. “You’re here,” Yoongi says, not even sparing Jimin a glance as he takes his headphones off. Usually, Jimin hops into the sound booth excitedly, asking Yoongi when he can start already, always so eager to show hyung that he can do well, but he’s rooted to the ground now, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.


“What are you waiting for, Jimin?” Yoongi asks in a low voice as he jerks his chin towards the sound booth. Jimin gulps, but says nothing as he makes his way in, looking timidly at Yoongi through the glass separating them. He’s about to ask what they’re going to record today since Yoongi didn’t ask them to prepare anything but Yoongi hits the speaker button before Jimin can speak. “Jimin,” Yoongi’s voice is loud through the speakers. It’s always been like that, but Jimin is shaking slightly, at the feeling of Yoongi’s voice all around him, it’s terrible— “take your pants off.”


“What?” Jimin finally blurts, feeling his cock twitch for the tiniest of moments.


“You didn’t hear hyung?” Yoongi continues, “I said take your pants off.”


“Aren’t we supposed to be recording?” Jimin argues, words tripping over themselves as he pulls his shirt down. His breathing is getting quicker as his pulse quickens along, heart thumping as he weighs his options in the sound booth, Yoongi’s strong stare on his face all the while. When Yoongi doesn’t reply, Jimin freezes. “Hyung?”


“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says, the syllables dragged out and measured, “can you do it yourself like a good boy or do you need hyung to go in there and do it for you?”


A high-pitched whimper leaves Jimin’s lips as he takes in the warning tone in Yoongi’s orders and starts to unbutton his jeans with trembling hands. He steals a short glance up and finds Yoongi staring at him with dark, hungry eyes and hot spikes of arousal claw against Jimin’s skin as he manages to shimmy out of his jeans, briefs hiding nothing as his cock tents against the fabric uncomfortably. Yoongi lets out a sound of approval as Jimin lowers his gaze to the floor, not daring to look up – too embarrassed to be under the predatory glare of Yoongi’s.


“Go on, touch yourself,” Yoongi says conversationally, as if he’s discussing about the weather or what to eat for lunch tomorrow, and Jimin’s mouth goes dry. Yoongi shifts in his huge chair so that the computer doesn’t block his view of the sound booth and looks at Jimin quizzically. “Haven’t you been waiting for very long, Jiminnie?”


“I have,” Jimin answers now, still unsure what to do, words slipping past his lips before he can help it, “I didn’t want to wait this long, hyung, it hurts, why did you put me last?”


“Like I said, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi drawls, licking his lips, “Jimin will take the longest so he has to be the last. The rest of them finished their recordings well, so it’s just me and you now, Jimin.”


“You’re not even making me sing!” Jimin bites out harshly, but he takes a step back when Yoongi’s eyes turn darker and his smile disappears from his face. He hates this – hates how Yoongi can see everything from where he is, how he knows everything Jimin is thinking exactly, how he can make Jimin bend to his will every time. And he can, because Jimin will bend, every time.


“I don’t like to repeat myself, Jiminnie,” Yoongi says curtly, then says nothing as he keeps on watching Jimin, even when Jimin is doing nothing.


When Jimin sees that there’s no way around this, and he’s uncontrollably turned on by Yoongi’s controlling tone, the way Yoongi is looking at him, and his imagination running on overdrive, he slips his fingers around the hem of his underwear and pulls it down unceremoniously, letting out a soft moan when his dick springs up to rest heavy against his flat stomach. He slowly wraps his hand around his length and cries at the sensation, precome already leaking down from the tip of his cock. Slowly increasing his speed, he tries to muffle his voice by biting down on his knuckles again but Yoongi tuts through the speakers, “I want to hear you, Jimin. Say my name.”


“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin whines as he tugs his thumb along the slit of his cock, and Yoongi nods at him approvingly. Jimin nods back, cock twitching at the sight of Yoongi licking his lips while looking at him appreciatively, and moans slip pass his lips easier than before, hand jerking himself off so quickly now that he barely has the strength to stay standing, thighs quivering as he edges on the brink of orgasm. Yoongi-hyung, Yoongi, Jimin moans as his eyes are screwed shut in concentration but Yoongi taps the button again.


“Stop.”


Jimin’s eyelids fly open as his hand freezes, a sinking feeling of loss in the pits of his stomach as his orgasm draws further when it was so close earlier. He lets out a whimper, hand and thighs covered in precome and he wants to come so bad that he shoots Yoongi a pitiful look. “Hyung,” Jimin whispers weakly, “want to come, hyung.”


“Jimin? Are you going to ask hyung in a tone like that? Do you think hyung will let you come like this when you can’t even ask properly like a good boy?”


“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin tries again, panting as he starts to feel sweat on his forehead and on his back, a hand stroking his cock lazily, “please please please, Yoongi-hyung, Jimin wants to come so bad, hyung, it hurts.”


Yoongi contemplates for a moment before pushing his glasses up. “What do you want hyung to do, Jiminnie?”


“Touch me,” Jimin replies immediately, eyes widening in need as he curls his fingers tighter around his cock, imagining Yoongi touching him like that, then he remembers, “please, hyung.”


Yoongi murmurs something under his breath but Jimin doesn’t catch it – either way, Yoongi stands up from his seat and makes his way into the sound booth. Jimin holds his breath; Yoongi is suddenly so close, so warm, like the first time he had touched Jimin today earlier, and only lets out a sigh when Yoongi tugs Jimin up to kiss him, teeth clashing clumsily since they’ve never kissed before. Jimin’s cock brushes against the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt and the cold metal of Yoongi’s belt buckle and he gasps, pulling away from Yoongi to breathe properly.


“Jimin,” Yoongi hisses against Jimin’s ear as his hands travel behind to knead softly at Jimin’s ass cheeks, feeling the younger boy shiver against him, “Jimin, you’ve always been good, right?” Before Jimin can think of an answer (how should he even answer this? Yes? But would that seem too confident? Would Yoongi think that he’s lying? No? Then will Yoongi not let him be rewarded?), Yoongi presses their lips together again, swallowing the surprised noise from the back of Jimin’s throat. “So good,” Yoongi mutters, making Jimin blush, but the embarrassment is fleeting because Yoongi brings his hand up to land a slap on Jimin’s ass harshly, ripping a loud cry from Jimin’s throat.


Hyung,” Jimin keens, a melodic whine leaving his parted lips as he unconsciously sticks his ass out further, to be closer to Yoongi’s hands, to allow easier touch. Yoongi’s palm is back on Jimin’s ass cheek again, but he rubs at the red, stinging area soothingly as Jimin hisses at the sensation.


“You like that?” Yoongi asks, dipping a finger into the crack of Jimin’s ass and Jimin whines against Yoongi’s chest, nods frantically in agreement, not trusting his voice just yet. “Come on, look at me,” Yoongi breathes, a small smile hanging on the side of his lips, “hyung wants to see when our little Jiminnie is being such a slut.”


Jimin tightens his grip on Yoongi’s shirt as he lifts his head up to look at Yoongi – eyes glassy and lips swollen from kissing, a hand on Jimin’s back and the other messily entangled in Jimin’s hair. Jimin exhales shakily, not daring to break the gaze and after Yoongi is sure that Jimin won’t look away, he lets go of his hair, drawing a weak whimper from Jimin before reaching down to stroke Jimin’s cock. It takes Jimin by surprise and he almost chokes on his own voice, muscles under his abs tensing at the warm and inviting touch. “Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin whispers carefully, hips starting to roll back into Yoongi’s fist but Yoongi quickly holds Jimin’s hips still and lets go of the throbbing cock.


“Shh, Jimin,” Yoongi coos, licking the precome away from his fingers, “let hyung take care of you, okay?”




“Hyung!” Jimin wails, after the fifth time Yoongi’s hand has struck his ass. He’s sure that if Yoongi keeps this up and only spanks one side of his ass, Jimin’s going to have to walk around funny for at least a week and the coordi noonas will ask why his pants don’t fit him anymore. He can’t find it in him to tell Yoongi anything, though, because Yoongi’s cheeks are flushed red as well, bottom lip nestled between his teeth as he rubs gentle circles on Jimin’s butt where he had hit earlier, and from Jimin’s (limited) peripheral vision, he’s hard under his sweatpants as well.


“You look so good like this, Jimin,” Yoongi mutters, “so good when you’re being punished.” And Jimin can’t find the strength to tell Yoongi that his knees and palms are starting to hurt from his position on the carpeted floor as well, so he endures the feeling and puts his focus on Yoongi pressing butterfly kisses along Jimin’s hip, Yoongi’s wandering hands on Jimin’s stomach, purposefully avoiding his dripping cock as it jabs into his stomach in an aching warning.


Yoongi slaps Jimin’s ass one more time, the sick sound of the slap echoing around the soundproof booth emptily – it makes Jimin’s face heat up in embarrassment but the feeling comes and goes as soon as Yoongi wraps his arms around Jimin’s torso and flips him over so that his back is against the floor, Yoongi kneeling between Jimin’s legs. Jimin cries out at the stinging sensation of his abused ass against the rough carpet and tries to lift his body up to avoid contact but Yoongi presses his hips down firmly, and Jimin thinks the patterns of the carpet will be imprinted on his butt soon as tears spring up the corners of his eyes.


“Did you like that, Jiminnie?” Yoongi asks, breath fanning out hotly against Jimin’s neck as he licks a wide stripe down to Jimin’s chest and his tongue swirls around Jimin’s tensing abs, every exhale sending a rumbling shiver deep into Jimin’s core; and when he finally dips his tongue into Jimin’s navel, Jimin jerks and he yelps, trying to stay still but it’s difficult when Yoongi is plunging his tongue in and out of the bellybutton like he’s fucking it and Jimin is so, so sensitive there. In the midst of this, Yoongi goes back to fisting Jimin’s cock lazily and Jimin chokes then, on his spit, and bucks his hips up on reflex.


“Oh my God, hyung,” Jimin says, when his throat is unblocked, “hyung—”


Yoongi picks up his pace and Jimin’s eyes roll back into their sockets as he grabs onto Yoongi’s shirt helplessly, a strong grip on Jimin’s hips warning him not to do anything and Jimin moans, chest heaving up and down quickly, “Yoongi,” Jimin grits out, dropping the formalities, “I’m so close.”


And that’s Yoongi’s cue to stop his actions and grip the base of Jimin’s cock tightly as Jimin’s cock twitch wildly and while Jimin lets out an actual shriek at the long-awaited release, he doesn’t come at all. He stares at Yoongi with a wild look in his eyes, exhaling sharply as he looks down at the impromptu cock ring Yoongi has formed around his cock. “Fuck,” Jimin spits, voice shaking as his thighs continue to quiver, cock hard against his stomach still, and Yoongi says nothing – just tells Jimin to shut up, that good boys don’t curse, and Jimin wishes he could take back things he said before because he wants to be so good for Yoongi-hyung.




Yoongi has always been a great and kind hyung to Jimin, guiding him whenever he can’t quite grab the emotion needed for a song and always ready to offer a listening ear when Jimin needs to rant, when Jimin feels like he’s not good enough. Yoongi knows Jimin inside-out, probably, and can most probably read the younger boy just by looking at him (unfortunately, Jimin can’t say that the reverse applies – Yoongi is a tough nut to crack, even after all these years). So it doesn’t surprise Jimin when his stare lingers for a moment too long at the tent in Yoongi’s pants and Yoongi promptly gets to his feet, tugging Jimin close, and then removing his pants as Jimin watches on greedily.


“What do you want, Jiminnie?”


Jimin’s eyes flare as he glances up at Yoongi – there’s a smirk plastered on Yoongi’s smug face, a hand in Jimin’s hair again and Yoongi knows what Jimin wants. He always does, even when Jimin doesn’t want his feelings to be known. And yet he wants to hear it. Jimin feels pathetic, his cock still dripping against his stomach and it feels gross already, he feels like he’s been hard the whole day but ultimately, it’s Yoongi’s dark and authoritative glare right now that intensifies the gnawing heat in his body, that makes his dick twitch yet again. “Put it in my mouth please, hyung,” Jimin rasps, face getting even hotter as he speaks up, “I want to taste Yoongi-hyung.”


“Good boy,” Yoongi says, voice edging on affectionate if Jimin hadn’t known better, as he strokes a hand along Jimin’s cheek and jawline before pushing a thumb against Jimin’s lips, signaling for him to open his mouth. “Go on and take it, Jimin, you deserve this.”


Before Jimin can hesitate, he just leans in to take Yoongi’s cock into his mouth without warning, feeling his lips get stretched around the warm, throbbing circumference of Yoongi and Yoongi lets out a shuddery exhale, petting Jimin on his head. “You feel so fucking good, Jimin,” he groans, and Jimin would definitely be smiling if he didn’t have his entire mouth stuffed with cock.


The sounds that Jimin is getting from Yoongi sound so good and Jimin’s heart is swelling at the fact that he’s making Yoongi react like this – he sinks his teeth down into the thick vein along the side of Yoongi’s dick and Yoongi’s eyes screw shut, letting out a moan and Jimin is moaning along too, enjoying the responses too much. He’s about to jerk himself off while getting Yoongi off before Yoongi’s hand grips at Jimin’s hair harshly, “nuh-uh,” Yoongi tuts, tone chiding, “you’re not allowed to touch yourself, Jimin-ah.”


Jimin whines in disappointment and the vibrations travel up Yoongi’s cock so well that Yoongi flinches, tugging Jimin away and pushing him back to the floor. “You’ve been doing so well, Jiminnie,” Yoongi compliments, pressing soft kisses into the dips of Jimin’s collarbones and sucks on the protruding vein on Jimin’s neck as Jimin whines, fingers digging into the rugged carpet as he tries to look at Yoongi. “Tell hyung what else you want, baby boy.”


Ah,” Jimin sobs, words barely leaving his mouth as Yoongi clasps a hand over Jimin’s exposed throat and exerts slight pressure on there. Yoongi’s finger is circling Jimin’s entrance by now, too, his fingertip barely pushing past the tight ring of muscles there and Jimin shudders. “F—Fuck me, hyung.”


“What did we say about asking nicely, hmm, Jimin?” Yoongi withdraws his finger and Jimin shakes his head hurriedly, muttered whines of please and hyung leaving his pretty swollen lips so Yoongi thrusts his finger in without warning. Jimin’s mouth parts in a silent scream, toes curling in discomfort as Yoongi works him open, harshly but not too harsh, just enough to put Jimin out of words and have his nails clawing down Yoongi’s back in pleasure.




When Yoongi finally fucks into Jimin the way Jimin wants it, hard and fast and Jimin’s eyes are rolling back in pleasure; he can’t keep his mouth closed as drool escapes the sides of his lips and it gets onto Yoongi’s chin messily when they kiss. One of Yoongi’s hand is clasped around Jimin’s flushed neck, cutting down Jimin’s air intake and Jimin’s head is starting to spin – the sensation of Yoongi’s cock rutting against his prostate and Yoongi’s mouth on the sensitive spot under his jaw get mixed up and it all just feels so good that Jimin sobs, broken moans leaving his lips. Yoongi sees that Jimin is close, so he presses in close and whispers filthy praises against Jimin’s ear, murmurs dirtier next time promises as his hand dips down to jerk Jimin off messily, along with his thrusts. Jimin finally comes when Yoongi promises to come in his mouth next time, says he wants Jimin to swallow his cum like the little slut he is, and Jimin’s body spasms against Yoongi before Yoongi also goes over the edge and spills inside of Jimin.




Jimin thinks he blacked out after that, because when his eyes open, he’s on the leather couch in the studio, but he’s no longer in the sound booth, and there’s a soft wool blanket over his body. He tries to call out for Yoongi but his throat is dry and it hurts, so he just looks around worriedly until the door swings open and Yoongi walks in, surprised to see Jimin awake. “Did you sleep well?” Yoongi asks, handing Jimin a glass of warm water as he sits down beside Jimin’s legs.


The digital clock in the studio reads 5AM, so Jimin’s been knocked out for a couple of hours by now. It still hurts to speak, so Jimin just nods, and gulps the glass of water down quickly. Yoongi shifts closer to pet Jimin’s head before moving to massage Jimin’s neck where he gripped too hard earlier, and leaves a quick kiss under Jimin’s jaw. “Thank you, Jimin. Was I too rough?”


Despite himself, Jimin nods with a grim expression but before Yoongi can respond, Jimin swallows thickly and smiles. “I liked that, hyung. We should do that again.”


“Please.”


a/n: based off http://cfile8.uf.tistory.com/image/272F204F5675292632FEFF. i have no excuses really.
special thanks go out to my eternal enabler kim who watched this crash and burn and emily who i love to torture!!

i really didn't want to step into the bangtan ficdom like this. but here i am and here you go.
i hope this was fine because i haven't written anything in about... a year... //exits

* crossposted to AO3.
Tags: *fic, f: bts, p: suga/jimin, r: nc-17, w: 5000~10000
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