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whatifyoulivelikethat · 7 months

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dionysus xii, m | jjk x ♂wiyllt x myg

pairing(s): jungkook x male wiyllt x yoongi — important: contains m/m pairing— male OC is male whatifyoulivelikethat aka me, the author ;)

summary: The following events are extremely gay. Jeon Jungkook puts himself in a dick 69 (and likes it). Min Yoongi puts himself in a maid outfit (kinda). Also, they share a boyfriend. Not that any of them are gonna admit that straight up. That would just be embarrassing. (They will in their head though, heh.)

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; important! male OC and Yoongi are pansexual and Jungkook is bisexual; I'm warning you: everyone's dick is out; in love and none of them will admit it out loud, classic; JK is a lil insecure and gets his reassurance ofc; Yoongi is just a slut kidding but also not; domestic, tbh; D/s smut (hyung kink, praise kink, spit kink, mild restraints, 69, choking, m-masturbation, cumming on each other, cum eating, crossdressing - maid Yoongi + leather body harness + butt plug, pain kink, m-receiving oral, edging, handjob, hair pulling, unprotected anal sex, cowgirl (cowboy? eh, you get it), missionary anal, creampie); non-idol!BTS - sub!Jungkook x dom!male OC x sub!Yoongi; switches between Yoongi’s POV and JK's POV; for the few people who read this series, um, why? my male self has dirty, filthy sex, smh

“Fuck me. I’m so damn tired of humanity. Does no one have a backbone or ears these days? I don’t get paid enough. Ugh. Patience is a virtue and all that shit. Fuck virtue. I’ve used my last fuck and I just want a damn nap. What about you? You’ve been sitting here all day. I know, aren’t you much comfier since I put you back in the couch?”

Min Yoongi cocked his head.

Commotion? Checked the time. Oh, shit. Did that many hours fly by? He removed the headset from his ears and stood up. Fluttering RBG lighting tried to call him back to the white desktop, but instead he headed to cracked-open bedroom door, past dark gray sheets and a folded black blanket that weren’t his. Yoongi had, however, made the bed. Simply because he had seen the mess.

“I know, bro. You’ve been with me too long to be dumped on the floor like that.”

Yoongi pressed two fingers to the door and pushed it open a little more, craning his head and giving himself a clear view of the living room.

He saw a head of black hair, naked broad shoulders, and a deep scarlet dress shirt halfway off.

what if you

“I’d talk to Jungkook but that guy doesn’t listen to me.”

He could only see half of the back tattoo.

He called out.

“Why are you stripping for the giant plush bear?”

The black hair whipped in a sharp arc, exposing white gold earrings and angular jaw, followed by dark, dark eyes and plush mauve lips in a soft ‘o’ shape. The dress shirt slid down, caught by a flighty hand, but Yoongi didn’t need to see the rest of the tattoo. He knew exactly what it said. He had, after all, run his fingers over it and kissed each letter for many nights.

And that chest.

Fuck, he wanted to make out with it.

The man known to many as Dionysus, but to Yoongi by given name, gawked at him.

“How long you have you been here?” the other male sputtered.

Yoongi caught himself smiling. He usually hated that but, in this case, it added to the teasing. He wasn’t given many chances to tease when it came to his favorite person so Yoongi made sure to take every chance he got. “Couple hours. I wasn’t getting anywhere in the studio today so I figured I would take a break and play Diablo. You said I could use your setup.” He made sure to keep his voice very calm and even despite wanting to burst into laughter.

Those impossibly dark eyes shifted from side to side very rapidly. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Since you started talking to the bear.” It wasn’t true but Yoongi wasn’t above lying when it was for his own amusement. One more sin to add to his already hefty list.

The other man made a pained expression and threw his dress shirt onto the black leather couch. It wasn’t aimed to be sexual but Yoongi appreciated what he was seeing all the same. “Great.” Ah, he really did it enjoy the way irritation made that familiar husky voice even deeper. “Now you think I’m even crazier than I already am because I talk to my plushies. I’ll have you know Mr. Bear has seen some shit.”

“Is that his name?”

“Not really. He doesn’t have a name. I just use him as a backrest when I’m alone and watching television.”

Somehow Yoongi found himself a bit jealous of the two-meter-tall café-au-lait-colored plush bear sitting floppily on the couch. It looked back at him with a partway-open stitched smile. Don’t look at me like that. I won’t say anything when Jungkook inevitably dumps you on the ground again, Yoongi thought to the bear.

The bear, understandably, continued smiling.

Ominous.

The currently shirtless man was going through his black leather briefcase with an annoyed click of his tongue, muttering something along the lines of, “Don’t you fucking tell me that I lost my hair tie too, for fuck’s sake,” with dark waves of black falling past his cheeks. It was longer than how he usually had it, huh? The sides had been shaved as usual, but it seemed that he had left it longer this time, similarly to how Yoongi had his hair now.

Speaking of.

Yoongi carefully tugged the black hair tie out of his hair and put it in the pocket of the sweatpants.

For no reason at all.

The rest of his black hair fell around his neck, the curtain bangs wisping against his cheeks. A step closer to the coffee table, and the other male looked up, defeated, and was about to say something, mauve lips parting and all, giving Yoongi about two seconds to fully appreciate those decadent prominent collarbones and dark nipples and crisp black slacks clinging to delicious hips.

Then the front door burst open.

“Yo, hyung!”

Yoongi twitched in annoyance.

“Yoongi-hyung?”

Really? As if surprise was needed. Actually, that tone was probably more akin to seeing an unexpected visitor. Jeon Jungkook had a one-track mind. He also hardly used honorifics – except when he wanted to make it very clear that he was the youngest and seeking attention right now. Now Jungkook closed the door.

“Whoa! You’re naked! Wait. Why are you naked? And in front of Yoongi-hyung? That’s not fair!”

Yoongi stuck his tongue in his cheek and turned to see the doe-eyed, playfully pleading expression of Jeon Jungkook. His black hair was a little shorter now, but neatly parted for once. Surprisingly, he had yet another piercing on the right side of his lip. Half of his arm tattoos were exposed and there was the shadow of the full sleeve under the baggy black t-shirt. Those slate-blue jeans were so shredded that Yoongi was surprised that the denim was still holding on. There was so much leg showing that Jungkook might as well have worn shorts. Or nothing.

“I literally just got home. I was going to change.”

Instant complaint from the younger man. “Why? You look better like that.”

Yoongi felt the directness of those dark, dark eyes asking to provide some confirmational logic. He avoided them and said nothing, staring at the wall next to Jungkook’s head instead. Was that framed print of Jhin from League of Legends always there? Huh.

“I can’t stay naked.”

“You always say that, but you’re wrong,” Jungkook protested, kicking off his sneakers and pushing them against Yoongi’s as he crossed over.

“Don’t tell me you came here to get me to make you dinner again.”

“But, hyung–”

“I was going to make dinner,” Yoongi cut in. “I found black sea bass on sale.”

“I can’t make you cook in my own home,” that deep sigh replied, gazing at him under soft black tresses while one arm was outstretched and holding Jungkook’s chest back. True to his nature, Jungkook flailed about and played along. “I’ll change and help you.”

Oh, really now.

“Your home?”

Yoongi glanced at Jungkook and back to those dark, dark eyes, openly smirking.

“It’s our home now.”

“Is there any fantasy you’ve always wanted but never got to do?”

“Me?” The folding of laundry paused as those dark eyebrows knitted in confusion. “My horny ass? Yoongi, come on. You think I wouldn’t attempt the literal second I had a plausible impulse?”

Hmm. That wasn’t really the answer Min Yoongi wanted. He reached over to try and help but had the back of his hand promptly smacked away once again. He didn’t like feeling useless, but the man who called himself Dionysus at times might have a control problem. Or, rather, with one glance to those dark, dark eyes, he may be feeling a bit guilty still about Yoongi doing random housework as he saw fit.

But that was how Yoongi showed…

Anyway.

With how much time he was spending over here, Yoongi figured he might as well. He didn’t like a messy environment either. Three guys spending too much time in one small apartment were bound to get out of control if they didn’t all work together to keep the place clean.

Still, his host was not letting him get into his business (just his mouth and occasionally his asshole, heh). At least when he was home. Therefore, Yoongi had attempted to distract. And failed, but he knew he would. He still wanted to know though. Mostly because he wanted to be special.

He didn’t just think that.

Ahem.

“Do you mean you only attempt to do things that you know the other person will say yes to, or have you actually tried everything you want to do?”

The other male made a neat stack of folded boxer briefs and frowned. His dark hair curled over his forehead in the most delicious, rolled-out-of-bed way. Mmmm. “Well, no one can try everything. I can’t grow tits to try tit-fucking or switch to a vagina to try triple penetration. Sigh.”

Yoongi jerked his head back. “What?”

“I would have to try and find three guys who can stand to see each other naked and that’s a stretch considering you’re still weird around Jungkook,” he continued, opening dresser drawers to put articles of clothing in their respective places. “Which you never have to get used to, by the way. I am only giving an example.”

“I’m fine with seeing him naked.”

Side eye.

Yoongi shrugged, acknowledging he said that a bit too quickly. “He’s usually without a shirt in your apartment.”

“He’s not the most subtle,” the other man agreed.

A short silence. Yoongi found he enjoyed watching him doing such home tasks. When the taller male got dressed for work, he usually wore tailored pieces such as dress shirts and pants. But at home he wore a loose black t-shirt with a graphic of a grim reaper watching television and fitted track pants from the professional League of Legends team T1. Simple, but showed off his slightly eccentric personality. It was a step down from when he dressed to go out where he tended to be much sexier. This type of comfort meant that they were close.

Well, they were also fucking, but Yoongi knew this was different than the physicality of it all.

“What about crossdressing?”

“What?”

Yoongi looked up and found dark, dark eyes staring at him, hands frozen in mid-action.

“Me? I don’t own highly feminine clothing currently, but I guess I could find something…”

“No,” Yoongi corrected. “Me. Cross-dress for you. I know you don’t only like men.”

A sudden thrill coursed through him upon seeing the intrigued expression. He maintained his casual, calm demeanor. His boyfriend still hadn’t moved, not a centimeter, but was instead surveying him curiously, as if he was trying to figure out the seriousness of the suggestion.

“You don’t only like men,” the deep voice countered.

“That doesn’t answer the question of whether or not you would be turned on if I wore more feminine clothing.” Yoongi paused for effect. He, too, could be enticing when he wanted to. “If you want to fuck me in a skirt or dress.”

This was supposed to be a shocking kinky proposal but it was backfiring slightly. Yoongi lifted his thighs slightly and thanked his past self for wearing these baggier sweatpants. He shrugged as leisurely as he could.

“You know, bend me over and violate me.”

Those plush mauve lips parted.

“Could be fun.”

Ever quick and always witty response. “Is that why you grew your hair out?”

Yoongi almost snorted. At least his dick stopped perking up. “No. Come to think of it, helps though.”

An open-mouthed smirk.

“And here I thought you were only a musical genius, but you continue to amaze me.”

Past Jeon Jungkook would have never predicted that he would also be deep throating dick when partaking in a sixty-nine, but life had a strange way of making the impossible possible. He probably would have predicted being in handcuffs at the same time though. His porn history was quite telling even if he hadn’t yet had the guts to explore it back then.

If he had thought he couldn’t breathe that well with pussy in his face, well, now Jungkook was beginning to appreciate what other women had done for him in the past when he was the one on top.

This was a lot more difficult than he thought.

Not that he had much time to think about it. Currently, Jungkook was struggling to focus on sucking dick because there was too much going on between his legs. Large hands gripping his tense thighs and pinning them down. Wet. Tongue roughly sliding down the topside of his cock while the underside rubbed against the roof of that talented mouth, the back of that throat squeezing the head with every descent. Tight. He could even feel the measured, warm breath against his balls every time he was swallowed, adding winding sparks to the constant rollercoaster of pleasure. Hot. Jungkook was embarrassed to feel that he was only able to get three-fourths of that hard length into his own mouth but he blamed it on the angle.

His wrists were handcuffed together, but Jungkook could still reach up and run his fingertips over the other male’s lower torso, aching to touch skin on skin.

Well, he had a whole dick down his throat, but you know what he means.

The one above him shifted and the hips rose, giving him some breathing room. Then slowly descended, pressing deep into his throat and mildly suffocating him with his balls. Not that Jungkook minded at this point because the mouth was tightening, changing the expanse of sensation to all over his length, the tongue spreading out and curling around his girth. Little flicks of wet muscle building the ecstasy, heightening the impending apex, making his core tense and his eyes roll up into his head as his hyung thrust slowly into his mouth, using him like the hole he always wanted to be. He did feel bad, just laying there as the other man fucked his throat and sucked him off.

Strong fingers dug into his thighs, hopefully leaving bruises.

He did feel a little guilty.

Mostly, though, Jungkook was so far gone that he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Dionysus.

It really was a fitting alias for someone so excessive.

A deep chuckle resonated around his jerking, shivering cock, bleeding into the blinding haze of orgasm, sending another wave soaring through him. Slight shame, sure, but mostly pride at hearing the clear satisfaction. He could feel it too, the swallowing and the hands that gripped his shaking inner thighs, kneading his flesh. Those full lips floated around the base of the still-engorged head of his cock, rubbing back and forth. Fuck. Fuck, it was hard to explain. A suspension of sensation, not the fleeting high of release but a constant bliss that made him want to cry.

Fuuuuuuuck.

The hips rose. Hard, wet cock fell out of his mouth, slapping him in the face and smearing his own spit on his lips and cheek. He gasped, choking on his own saliva, moaning deeper when that mouth went down on him again, keeping him hard, coaxing his want. Jungkook didn’t care. He didn’t care what was right or wrong. Didn’t care what was happening, even as fingers laced around his slippery balls and locked them in a cage. Didn’t care, reaching up and grazing his fingertips over that dripping length, pressing it to his cheek and rubbing it against his jaw. His saliva stuck to his face. His neck. Whimpers bubbling in his chest as nails scratched down his inner thigh, forcing him to spread his legs open more.

The mouth retreated.

And then tongue cupped around his balls, teeth nicking, leaving him a gasping mess of whines as it travelled all over accompanied by a palm closing in around the throbbing head of his cock, gliding saliva over the sensitive skin.

His entire body tensed, succumbing to the wicked rush of sparks and arousal spreading all over.

“Heh, let me get off you,” the husky voice above him mused.

Jungkook had a fleeting thought of, no, crush me, but then it was flood of air and light invading his senses. Ack! He recoiled into the pillows even though it wasn’t even that bright. Just RGB lighting from the computer and the ghost-shaped lamp on the nightstand still aglow. Didn’t matter though, because now he had to face…

Dark, dark eyes looked down at him.

Paired with an amused smirk.

Jungkook wanted to hide behind his hands but they were handcuffed together. He couldn’t exactly be super subtle brushing back his sweaty hair or anything. The other male continued watching him, his black hair curling around his left cheek and ear. Jungkook found himself staring at those shoulder lines and collarbones, finding himself a bit jealous of the natural beauty of them.

The other male leaned down.

Expression dangerous.

“H… Hyung…?”

“Hm?”

Then Jungkook yelped as he felt his right leg was raised, pressed against the other man’s chest. He briefly hated himself for not working on flexibility more, but then Jungkook has no more room to think as his boyfriend’s left hand wrapped around his throat, that smirk turning wicked.

Wait.

His what?

Jungkook choked and it wasn’t because of the hand around his neck.

“Look at you,” that hazy, low voice continued. “How cute.”

He suddenly became vaguely aware that the deep breathing and sound of hand on flesh was not him, but the older male jacking himself off right above Jungkook’s aching, untouched length. Hey! But he couldn’t say it, whimpering, inhale shorting when the hold around his throat tightened, cutting off more blood. His brain felt fuzzy, his tongue thick and unmovable.

“H-Hyung, please…”

“Please what, my darling?”

He couldn’t feel the pre-cum wasn’t leaking all over his inner thigh right now but Jungkook was pretty damn sure it was happening, and his cheeks were heating up, burning, my darling, sputtering, unable to say anything to the rhythmic slapping sound and calm sighs of physical pleasure. He could feel the cool metal on his skin as he crawled his hands down, down.

Fingertips brushing against dried spit and cum.

��Can I… Can I touch myself, p... please, hyung?”

Jungkook could see that self-satisfied smile through his blurred vision and it made his heart race faster, made his core coil tighter, made his mind slip deeper, deeper into service.

“Of course. Such a good boy for asking.”

Maybe he should have been afraid on how easy it was, afraid of how willing he was to fall into this depravity and be this vulnerable, afraid of how that little praise made him lose his mind, but Jungkook couldn’t think about anything. He could only feel. Feel his thoughts bleed out with the lack of blood. Feel his arousal spiking when he touched himself, stroking his length below that moving hand. Feel the whine escaping him as he teased the swollen head of his cock, rubbing his thumb over the thin skin. Blood rushing, muscles twitching, his legs pinned open by another man’s body, and the man who called himself Dionysus when he wanted to be in the shadows grinned at him, like the devil, bringing him unbreakable heaven amidst all this sin.

“You want me to cum on you?” the other man teased, running his index finger over Jungkook’s jaw as he choked him. “Want me all over your pretty cock so you can get off using my cum as lube?”

Jungkook could only moan in affirmation, both because he was being choked and because he couldn’t think straight – as expected with this dick-on-dick action – at such an obscene, arousing suggestion, excitement and exhilaration burning his veins as he saw the tension ripple across his hyung’s chest, jaw tightening, dark eyes darker, biting his lower lip hard.

Messy black hair was hanging down.

The only foreshadowing was one of his eyebrows cocking deviously.

Then Jungkook gasped as the other male leaned forward and shot hot strings all over his hands, his cock, his burning skin, his eyes rolling back as he felt the thick head press down on his shaft and dribble cum down in a painted streak. The grip on his throat loosened, shooting him into a different rise, oxygen swarming into his lungs. His vision reeled, blurry. Controlled, calm exhales washing onto his shaking chest. No remorse. His gaze snapped back, feeling the twitching head burying into his balls, staining them with orgasm.

Those dark, dark eyes dared him.

“Go on. Your turn.”

Couldn’t look away.

Locked gazes, mouth open, gasping for air, gripping himself tightly. No, tighter. The whimpers growing in his throat, jacking himself off hard and fast, pushing for the climax, couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop himself, slippery, wet, drenched in the heavy scent of sex and the cologne of green tea and marshmallow, herbal and warm, drowning, so good, s-spit on me, hyung, and that little smirk before he did. The splat so visceral, all over his punishing grip and sliding over the pulsing head of his cock, glistening purple-red, and Jungkook threw his head back, unable to look anymore, the hot flush of his cheeks spreading all over, guilty, guilty of being in love.

He came all over his hands and stomach, gasping out that forbidden name.

“Mmmm…”

The hand on his neck left him cold.

His right leg fell, no longer suspended in the air.

Darkness.

Each breath rattling his lungs. His nerves still singing. Movement, but Jungkook didn’t dare open his eyes to know. Then he sucked in a breath, feeling a soft, warm tongue lick around his fingers. His palms. His cock. His crotch. Sucking up the mixture of their cum and spit, feathering kisses and hot breath over his tingling skin.

Oh…

The sweetness was killing him.

My darling.

Jungkook was pretty sure he was insane and making up everything in his head. He didn’t want to do anything but feel this moment. Hands slipped under his. Sticky, wet, and yet those fingertips traced his palms, laying them down against his abs as that mouth kissed up and down his cock, small licks curling around to flick his balls gently. He wasn’t even hard.

It felt so good.

So good.

He didn’t try to fight it. Couldn’t even if he wanted to. Jungkook let himself get lifted, the forearm against his lower back, kisses up his trembling chest, and then those dark, dark eyes observing him under shadowy lashes, amused. Those plush lips grazed Jungkook’s two lip piercings.

“You gonna get up, lazy bones?”

Jungkook made a noise of disagreement.

He had to be forced to clean up, but secretly (or not-so-secretly) Jungkook enjoyed that.

Hehe.

Apparently, he had tugged on the handcuffs a little too much because there was an indent left on the back of his wrists when they were removed. Oops. He hadn’t meant to do that. He didn’t want to get scolded, so he kept his wrists out of sight the best he could so his hyung wouldn’t notice. He received a silent side-eye, but no comment. Warning him to be careful but not wanting to make it a nagging. His hyung always warned him not to overdo it. Jungkook just… got lost in the moment.

Often.

Ahem.

Anyway.

“You okay?”

“Uh?”

It was hard to describe the feeling he got when Jungkook looked up to the other man. Maybe embarrassed, feeling disheveled compared to the confident spark in those dark, dark eyes surveying him with amusement. Maybe confused at the butterflies dancing in his chest, envious that the older male seemed so calm shirtless, messy hair, black boxer briefs, drying his hands on a towel before tossing it onto his shoulder like a goddamn movie main character. Maybe…

Those mauve lips curved into a smile.

Jungkook couldn’t define in words what love was, but love was definitely the feeling he felt in this moment, witnessing that smile.

“Did you enjoy that? Anything you didn’t?”

“O… Oh?” It finally clicked in his brain what was being asked. His cheeks seared with warmth. “Um…?!”

Instead of sitting beside him, the man who called himself Dionysus at times smiled wider, giving him the appearance of an endearing trickster. He remained standing in front of Jungkook sitting on the side of the bed. Too close to be mistaken as friends. “I thought I did a pretty good job. You came harder than usual, or what it because I was watching you this time? Guess I can’t tell if I’m too busy swallowing, hm?” Why was he talking about this so calmly? But there was nowhere to run either, caught between a piercing gaze and devious smirk, graceful fingers fanned over one hip like an underwear model.

“I… w-wha… hyung was amazing, I–”

And then Jungkook froze.

Words dead in his throat.

That was right.

Me.

The other man bent down and brushed hair out of his vision, but Jungkook was freezing up. Right. Now that the adrenaline was gone, the scent of green tea and marshmallow was as comforting as it was a remainder. Hyung is amazing. Every time, without fail, thinking about every touch and every kiss and Jungkook was only along for the ride.

“Was… Was I okay, hyung?”

“Hm?” Movement, and Jungkook shifted his gaze to see that familiar head tilt teasing him. “What do you mean, were you okay? Did I not show my appreciation well?” A fingertip traced across his cheek.

Chills shimmering all over his shoulders and yet.

“But you only came once.”

A light chuckle. “Uh huh.”

Jungkook felt his vision blur. Shit. Why was he getting teary? He blinked hard, biting his lower lip tensely, the swift pain fighting back the tears. The other man noticed immediately. Of course, he did. He knew everything about everyone. He could read body language like a children’s book, and Jungkook was simply not on that level.

“You didn’t cum in my mouth…” he mumbled, looking away, ashamed. “I’m not good enough.”

“Hah?”

Jungkook had been trying not to think about it too much. Everything was already complicated, from how they met to the not-so-straight sexual relationship to the pit-a-pat feeling in his chest at wanting to be called my darling over and over again, but certain rain-cloud thoughts had been persistent, overshadowing everything else. The feeling of not good enough. When it had only been their isolated interactions, Jungkook didn’t think about how the other male slept with other people. Honestly, Jungkook didn’t even care since it was so obvious his hyung made him a priority.

But then there was Min Yoongi.

Watching them together was just…

“Hey.”

He felt hands on his shoulders, but Jungkook shut his eyes, shaking his head quickly, the whirlwind thoughts pouring through him. He had no right to be upset. No place to make demands, no idea what were the right words to say, no, he needed to shut up and appreciate that he could even be in this position. “I’m sorry, I’ll try harder next time, I’m sor–”

“Stop saying silly things.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice choked up, cracking in his chest. “I can do better.”

Thwack.

“Ow!”

A sharp pain shot over his forehead. It took Jungkook a moment to realize he had been flicked. His eyes snapped open, snapping his head up to gawk, slack-jawed. The older man looked annoyed, looking down at him with a hand still on Jungkook’s right shoulder. He lowered his right hand, shaking his head with a sigh, wave of black hair drifting over his left eye.

“Jungkook, please, can you listen to me for once in your life?”

Rubbing his forehead with his left hand. Less ow but still ow. “What?” Didn’t he listen pretty well? Er, sometimes. But hyung liked the bratty thing!

“You really think I give a shit about quantity over quality?” Even being scolded in that husky voice wasn’t that bad. Those dark, dark eyes narrowed and Jungkook instinctively felt his spine stiffen. Ahem. Right. Listening. “Bro, I’m not keeping count. Every once in a while, I like to discuss about how the sex was and what you liked about it. Me, I don’t stop unless I’m satisfied. It isn’t the number of orgasms or what exactly happens that is the satisfying part for me. The satisfying part is you.”

“But if I was better… wait, what?”

You.

Jungkook pointed to himself, eyes widening. “Me?”

Eye roll. “Yeah, you, idiot.”

And then that face was close, suddenly dropping down. Green tea. Marshmallow. Herbal and warm. Soft black hair, even darker eyes, plush mauve lips in a small smirk. The shine in that gaze, the solidness of that hand on his shoulder, and that expression absolutely not having any of Jungkook’s bullshit.

“I chose you.”

Pause.

Half-smile.

“Is this about Yoongi?”

Jungkook found he couldn’t say anything but he didn’t have to.

Silence was telling.

His hyung nodded. “Whether it is or not. Whether you believe me or not… I’m not comparing. I don’t compare you to him or anyone else. I don’t like people near me. I don’t like doing things I don’t like doing. But I like being near you. I like learning the things you like and I like doing them for you. Are there things you do that aggravate me? Yeah, like this stubbornness you have about not telling me what’s bothering you sooner so I can set you straight. But I chose you. I’m stubborn too, and you’re not going to change my mind.”

Closing the distance.

His left hand slipped away and now they were forehead to forehead, staring into each other’s eyes.

“I… I can do better for you…” Jungkook whispered to the darkness.

“You’re already loads better than the first time. Couple more loads and we’ll reevaluate.”

“Hey!”

The darkness sparkled.

The pause that followed, not uncomfortable but substantial.

A fleeting kiss and lingering words.

“You’re mine. And don’t you forget it.”

“Do you need help in there?”

“No. Shut up.”

Did he have to pull up the listing on his phone to figure out the strap situation? Yeah, maybe. Perhaps he shouldn’t wear the harness? Well, he had already gotten it halfway on. Sigh. Okay, zip this up, straighten this out, lace up these hook-and-eyes, turn it around, put the damn frilly ass apron on, and…

Min Yoongi looked at himself in the mirror.

What the fuck am I doing?

He couldn’t walk out like this.

It had been a stupid idea and now the stupid had gone too far. Was all this really worth the bit? Fuck, he couldn’t even look himself in the eye. Yoongi spied the white ruffled headband by the sink and crammed it on. Ack. Pulled it off and readjusted the front of his black hair to frame his face and then rest the headband behind. Should he tie his hair back? He reached up and collected some of his hair back. It didn’t give a “pretty” look. He left it down, pulling more of it forward. Smoothed out the mid-thigh length black skirt. It was made of a thicker material that had more body and swish to it. He hadn’t liked any of the cheap costume options when he searched around, so instead Yoongi had selected clothing pieces that matched and made his own outfit.

Flowy white blouse with a high collar and large black velvet bow.

Fitted black corset over it.

Black skirt with the added touch of a white ruffled apron and sheer black thigh-highs.

And, under it all, a surprise.

He had thought about buying an easy costume. Trashy and slutty and fuckable. He had even looked into the latex options but reading up on the meticulous preparation and the sweaty aftermath (and the smell, ew), uh, nah. Besides, if he other male had done as he asked, with the silver rings and all, Yoongi would have felt silly in a costume. No, he wanted it to be obvious that some thought had been put into this. He had wanted it to be a conscious effort.

Okay, and also Yoongi wanted to look somewhat hot.

He wanted to be able to pick styles that looked good on him, not throw on some poorly-made get-up. Not that he knew if this was a sexy outfit or not. He didn’t mind seeing himself in a more feminine silhouette. Dare he say his slender frame worked in his favor here? Well, anyway, it was more the implications of why he was wearing it. And what he was going to do in it.

Um.

Should he have brought makeup? Shit.

You’re stalling.

“Shut up,” Yoongi mumbled under his breath, snatching his cologne from the counter and dousing his neck. Who cared about makeup? He was still a man. He was only wearing different clothes that he usually did. Yoongi was just trying a different look. His boyfriend didn’t want a different person.

His.

What?

Yoongi abruptly spun around and yanked open the bathroom door. His face felt like it was on fire.

“Oh, good, I was beginning to think you fell in the toilet–”

Dead silence.

Damn, the man who sometimes called himself Dionysus looked good. Sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread open. Dressier than usual, just as Yoongi had asked. Black slacks. Black brocade dress shirt with embroidered white flowers. Pressed, fitted black vest. Long fingers spread out on the bed, each one adorned with sterling silver rings. Black hair swept to the left, longer than usual, brushing against his jaw, exposing his right ear and the thin silver chain connecting one of the helix piercings to the lobe.

Yoongi managed to push his hand away from the doorframe, breathing out slowly.

“Hello… Master.”

The other man was malfunctioning.

“H… Hah?”

Staring at him with a stunned look. Wide eyes and slack jaw included. It actually helped Yoongi stand a little straighter and relax a little bit. At least he wasn’t being laughed at. He frowned and held onto his left elbow with this right hand, unsure what to do now. The pressure of his right forearm over his corseted waist helped ease the nervousness a bit.

He didn’t plan a whole maid roleplay or anything.

The other male sat up attentively. “You didn’t say it was a maid outfit.”

“Well.” Yoongi looked away, feeling his cheeks flush hotter. “It is the most classic S-and-M costume, right?”

“Hmmmm, I’ve never seen this set before. Did you pick the pieces individually and plan the outfit?”

Weird that he noticed so fast. But nice. “Y… Yeah…”

“Oh? How thoughtful.”

Ack, what was this? Yoongi was suddenly hyperaware of the air between his legs and the effect of words. And tone. And… shit. He was doing that thing. He let go of his arm and stuck his hands by his thighs, hiding his balled-up fists in the swish of the skirt. He didn’t notice that the other man was standing right in front of him until it was too late, freezing up as the shadow appeared. Snapping his head up to a familiar smirk on mauve lips, sparkling dark orbs watching his every move with amusement.

“How do you feel?”

Like my ribcage is gonna explode! Just fuck me so I don’t have to say anything!

“F-Fine.”

Racing sparks shot up his spine as an exploring fingertip traced his chin. Yoongi realized he had gotten used to the stripped-down version of his lover. He had gotten used to the t-shirts, the comfy pants, the lack of rings, the messy hair, and the natural sexiness of every move. The other man was mindful of how he held himself, but at home there wasn’t an air of showmanship nor a sharp outfit to hide behind. He didn’t believe in giving it all away at once. After all, this was a man who chose an alias for most of the general public to address him.

But.

Yoongi could tell right away when people were perfectly comfortable in their appearance reflecting who they were inside. He was witnessing it right now. Those fingertips slid down his neck, caressing the velvet bow. Their eyes locked. Darkness to anticipation. Their colognes mixed together at their close proximity. His, citrus, sharp, dark. Melding with green tea, marshmallow, and intoxication.

They called him Dionysus.

But Yoongi called him…

“What did you call me again?”

Love.

“Master.”

A half-smile. “You’re taking this pretty seriously, hm?”

Instead of his usual witty response, Yoongi remained calm, aiming to shift the mood into their respective headspaces.

“I always take serving you seriously, Master.”

The playful expression remained, but the air was different now. Hotter. The taller male raised his hands, backing off slightly, looking up and down unashamedly. It was less objectifying than it was a detailed overview.

“You look good in a skirt.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Raised eyebrow.

Yoongi shrugged. “My legs are as nice as any girl group member. Nicer, even.”

A mirthful laugh. Movement. He was unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt and rolling them back, exposing his wrists and forearms. A heavy silver chain bracelet on his left wrist. “I do like your legs wrapped around me, so maybe you’re onto something.” There was a peek of silver chain around his neck too. That’s right. He had shown Yoongi a necklace he had purchased recently, a heavy sterling silver pendant that could hold a guitar pick, so, naturally.

He had asked for one of Yoongi’s.

“W-What are you doing?”

Small smirk. “Preparing.”

“For what?” he snapped back. Yoongi hadn’t meant his voice to bristle but what how the hell was he supposed to react? He was in a skirt, for fuck’s sake! And an apron! And a damn frilly headband and they were going to–

He froze as a heavily ringed hand gripped his chin.

Insatiable dark, dark eyes.

“For you.”

He couldn’t move as that head tilted, smirk turning into the grin of a devil, and then those lips were on his. Dangerously soft and to the pattern of a pulse, keeping an infuriating distance between them. Yoongi felt himself reach up, but another hand stopped him, tight grip around his wrist, silver rings cutting into his skin and making him gasp. The hand on his chin slipped away, stalking around his shoulder and around his neck, pressing his trapped hand against his chest.

His body tensed.

The leather harness cut into his torso. A breath too tight.

He whimpered into the kiss.

A pause.

Yoongi could feel the taller male staring at him but he didn’t dare open his eyes.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” he muttered immediately.

“No as in yes or no as in I’m not supposed to know yet?” the gentle, stern voice pressed.

Yoongi opened his eyes slowly, not making eye contact but appreciating the shape of those perfect lips instead.

“No as in shut the fuck up and let me do my job.”

He glanced up with a glare.

Playful amusement and deliciously intrigued.

“You know, you’re a really bossy maid.”

Yeah, well, Yoongi couldn’t bring himself do the whole helpless schtick they did in porn movies because that shit would be way too embarrassing, not to mention not his personality at all. Besides, Yoongi knew him well enough. There was no fun in dominating a helpless creature. No satisfaction unless there was resistance.

Also, his boyfriend was obsessed with Jungkook, so he must love fucking a freaking annoying brat.

“And you’re not going anywhere dressed like that,” Yoongi snapped, lifting his hands towards the vest.

Only to get slapped away.

“Oh? Why not?”

Bro, do you wanna fuck or what? He tried not to let his frustration show. “Then where would you be going?” Okay, fine, he would play along. For now.

Casual shrug. “A date.”

Are you serious? His annoyance must have shown, because that relaxed expression became subtly arrogant. “Why would you need to go on a date–” When I’m literally right here! The fuck I put all this on for?!

“Are you implying that I don’t need someone else to touch me?”

Hook, line, sinker.

Yoongi gawked at him, dumbstruck.

The other male raised a finger and toyed with the edge of the velvet bow along his neck. “I can’t say I like the idea either, but masters and maids are supposed to be professional. Lines can’t be crossed. It is better if I leave right now.”

Wait, what the fuck was going on? Where they actually being themselves or roleplaying? How deep were they getting into this? This was a joke, right? There was no way he was just going to up and leave Yoongi in his cute maid outfit with blue balls and go off sucking somebody else’s face. The fuck was that? The anger flared up hot. I’m not your actual maid, you fuckin’ idi–

But before jealousy cloud his vision, a ringed hand covered his mouth.

Swift and with one yank, the velvet ribbon was undone.

“Lines can’t be crossed.”

Why did it feel as if the other man towered over him? He wasn’t so much taller, but there was such an obvious difference between the calm and the fury. A curtain of black hair trapped Yoongi in shadow.

“But there are no rules in this unbreakable heaven, right?” that husky voice whispered, low and dark.

Yoongi couldn’t say anything.

He just nodded, his blood racing in his veins.

Those dark, dark eyes seemed satisfied.

“Hold out your hands, my darling.”

His legs turned to jelly. What? The world was an electric haze. The fuck he just say? His hands raised automatically, gasp tittering in his throat as he felt the velvet wind around his wrists, then pivot perpendicular to tie around itself in the center, knowing exactly that it was the other male doing it with a smile, acting as if he didn’t just create a whole rollercoaster of emotions in less than five minutes.

But Yoongi could do nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing but listen.

“Kneel down for me.”

Obediently, tucking his calves under him, being careful and proper about it. The skirt flared out, covering his legs and feet entirely. Yoongi straightened his back, not wanting to look sloppy. It was impossible to slouch in the corset anyway. He didn’t feel like a different person but there was a strange exhilaration at the wrongness of it all. He settled his bound hands in his lap and looked up.

The other man stood above him, smiling, thumbs in the edge of his slacks.

“I like it.”

His cheeks warmed but Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to say anything because, fuck, he found himself enjoying it too. His fingers curled in the thick fabric of the skirt. Tightness in his core. Desire swirling, radiating. He didn’t break eye contact.

“You don’t like the idea of someone else touching me?” the other male asked again.

Yoongi frowned. “Why would you want that anyway?” he countered sharply. “They wouldn’t be able to satisfy you.”

That piercing gaze narrowed. A heavy hand on his head, tilting it back.

It made his entire body shiver with delight.

“They could learn.”

“He doesn’t count.”

Pause.

Raised eyebrow.

Now who the fuck are you referring to, Min Yoongi? But he told his brain to shut up, shut up.

“Jungkook wouldn’t do this for you,” he breathed out, shuddering with need.

A penetrating gaze. “It’s not a competition, Yoongi.”

Yeah, it wasn’t.

“Different people are capable of different things.”

Oh, he knew. He could see it. He did see it. And he definitely didn’t mean for it to come out that way, because he didn’t hate watching their entangled bodies. The roughness. His breathing grew rapid and shallow. There was something wrong with him, surely. It wasn’t a competition but Yoongi did love the intense competitive surge he felt whenever he witnessed them together. It made him want to do more.

Be more.

Be his.

“Look at me.”

He didn’t want to look anywhere else.

“L... Let me serve you, Master.”

So calm it was beautiful. The hand on his head left, sending a tingle trickling down his spine as he adjusted the headband to complete the image. Appreciating it. He nodded. Reached down, silver rings flashing in the light, unbuttoning his slacks. It was only then that Yoongi noticed the subtle tent.

Two fingers beckoning him forward.

“Unzip me.”

Under the skirt, Yoongi squeezed his thighs together. Bit his lip and raised his tied hands. He had done this action enough times but this time felt different. Like he had to be better. More subservient. Maybe it was all in his head. He gripped the thin zipper pull, tugging it away from the body to avoid catching onto anything. The prickling of his skin intensified as he realized the other man wasn’t wearing underwear.

He darted his gaze up.

The devil’s smirk shrugged nonchalantly. “Why bother when we were clearly going to get naked anyway?”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. Besides, there was an important task in front of him. He ran his fingers over the swelling length, the familiar velvety skin under his fingertips. Fuck, he had such a pretty cock. Due to his hands being bound together, he ended up bracing his palms along the underside and wrapping his fingers around the girth, inhaling sharply as he felt it twitch in his hands.

His own cock was mirroring, but Yoongi couldn’t touch it.

Yoongi looked up again.

His Master was disturbingly collected at being caressed like this. He kept his hands behind his back, not interfering. A regal stance. Must have also collected the hem of his dress shirt as well to hold it up and out of the way.

“Ah uh, no hands. That’s cheating. Back on your knees they go.”

He lingered a moment before obeying. Dancing along the fine line of punishment. Breathe in. Breathe out. The base of his palms touched his knees. It wasn’t that different from their normal sex, but the tension… It was impossible to explain. As if the possibilities that had suddenly expanded became a feeling, a thrill unmatched due to the lack of fear.

Yoongi opened his mouth.

Tongue sliding out.

Heat.

The strong taste made him moan, closing his lips around the hard length.

This? This he was good at. This was familiar hardness against his tongue, pushing it up to the roof of his mouth, sliding down deep to take it all. Slow, especially against the head, curling lips around it and rubbing slickness to velvet before choking himself again on the thick tip. Fuck, he could die like this. It was wrong on so many levels, the whole scene, and yet it was so right, opening his eyes to see himself being admired from above, the top few buttons of the brocade shirt undone to reveal those prominent collarbones and sterling silver guitar pick necklace. Heavy, weighted.

Always keeping a piece of me with him.

Those mauve lips curved upwards.

“Your mouth is the fucking best, Yoongi.”

One of those ringed hands lowered and skimmed across, following the top of those thighs that the slacks were still trapped around. There was something additionally arousing about still being in their clothes. Their roles still maintained. Yoongi felt something press against his lower lip.

Ah.

He tipped his head back and flicked his tongue over the other man’s balls, stimulating them each time he went down, heart beating fast as he saw the tension ripple out. It was a real effort to loosen enough to sweep his tongue out and then back to tightness around the head, but a challenge was a turn-on and Yoongi was no quitter, rising a bit on his knees to take in that cock deeper. Paid close attention to his throat muscles and his lip movement, keeping the pressure consistent and forceful, not giving up.

How could he?

Ugh, he was addicted to those low, soft moans. Addicted to the subtle twitch against his tongue, addicted to the hardness and the way that girth stretched out his throat, shivering, feeling pre-cum drip down his own thighs, but he couldn’t touch himself, no, not unless instructed. No hands. He slowed down a bit, wanting to make it last longer, tucking his tongue around each of those balls pressed against his lower lip and chin, strings of saliva dripping down his chin. Didn’t care. Yoongi knew the other man liked it. The cock in his mouth was so damn hard that his jaw ached. He kind of wanted it in his ass right now, but Yoongi was confident that he could get his Master hard again.

After all, his mouth was the best.

The man of excess would know.

He looked up again, intensifying the pace.

He watched those broad shoulders shudder, open-mouthed smirk watching him.

“Fuck, I love your eyes.”

Yoongi could say the same thing, but his mouth was currently full of dick.

He stopped teasing the balls and completely focused on the shaft. Molding it against tongue and lips, wet friction, slick and firm. No hands, so of course he had to be extra careful to use the force of his torso rather than his neck that needed to stay relaxed so he could swallow it all as deep as possible. Closing his eyes, basking in the attention, becoming the pleasure he wanted to give – tight, wet, deep – fast enough to not be ignored but steady enough to build up that inevitable orgasm, close, desperate for the taste, his fingers twisting into the hem of his skirt, whimpering in the back of his throat, craving it, the leather body harness under his clothes digging in to his rapidly rising and falling chest.

So close.

“Don’t choke, my darling,” that husky voice murmured above him.

Then he felt the sudden grasp of his head and the force of hips pushing down his throat. He sure as hell wasn’t going to choke at the rapidly expanding pocket of cum jammed down his throat but, um, hello, did Yoongi just hear that correctly? He was so startled that he griped the bottom of the pants, shivering as he swallowed, gripping tightly. Fire raced over his skin. His nerves singed, alight. Again with the ‘my darling’?! He was delusional. He was hearing shit he wanted to hear. Yeah, that was the only explanation. He kept his mouth closed, swallowing again, shuddering as he felt those hips roll, pushing in and out, remaining hard against his tongue.

Using him.

Yes, this was the safe space, being used.

“Stand up for me.”

Oh, shit.

He stumbled a little, wincing at the pins and needles, but strong hands helped him up. Pulled him closer. Yoongi looked away, busying himself with wiping his chin and straightening his outfit. His headband was somewhere on the floor. Welp. It was the cheapest part of the outfit. He let himself be dragged towards the bed, not saying anything. What was he supposed to say, anyway? Ah he was overthinking this, but how could he not? Was he supposed to act like a girl? A maid? Himself as a maid? Uh.

“H-Hey, what are you doing–?”

“Stand still.”

Yoongi suddenly found his legs sandwiched between two very strong thighs as his Master untied the velvet knot. Oh. He kept his silence as the knot was carefully deconstructed and undone, not making a sound at it was tossed aside. He liked watching those hands work. They were meticulous, treating him with care.

Then, those hands disappeared.

Yoongi raised his head.

Then froze as dark, dark eyes captured him along with ringed fingers closing in around his thighs.

“Uh.”

The sharp tone interrupted him.

“My title?”

Up his skirt. Fingertips traced the tops of the sheer, thigh-high stockings. Flicking the elastic, almost making him flinch as it snapped back into place. His hands had involuntarily found their way to those shoulders, gripping them for balance. He didn’t really want to say it so close. The other male waited patiently, squeezing the backs of his thighs but not going higher or more towards the center.

Yoongi swallowed.

The butterflies in his ribcage threatened to explode.

“Yes… Master?”

A devil’s smile.

“You know why I like skirts, Yoongi?”

“… No?”

They were sitting on the edge of the bed, until they weren’t. The other man scooted back a little and then Yoongi nearly yelped when he was grabbed by his bare ass and lifted. Thankfully, he was able to compose himself and not yell, even when the other male forced his knees in between Yoongi’s and made him straddle his lap. Yoongi’s knees now on the bed and he was fully clutching onto the taller male’s shoulders to avoid toppling over.

“Wait, I’m nak–”

“I can touch everything and you still look pretty,” his Master laughed, tickling warm breath against Yoongi’s neck. “Oh, looks like you had the same idea I did. Great minds think alike.”

This ass! “You can’t just violate–”

Yoongi stopped dead mid-sentence.

Those dark, dark eyes sparkled.

“I can’t what?”

But Yoongi couldn’t say anything because he already did.

He simply froze as those hands kneaded him, ring bands indenting his skin, gasping softly as he felt fingertips brush up against the straps along his legs. The bottom of the chest harness connected to straps around the tops of his thighs so it didn’t ride up. Well, it did, but only in the most delicious of ways. There was another strap around his waist and ones decorating around his chest and back, but for right now the leather below was all that was revealed. The issue was that Yoongi hadn’t really figured out if he was meant to wear underwear or not, because he didn’t want to have to take off the harness during sex and he didn’t want to wear boxer briefs over it. That would be fucking weird.

So, he just figured to go commando.

Of course, that also meant his cock had leaked pre-cum all over his inner thighs and the butt plug in his ass was now being played with since it was easily discovered.

“Ah… d-don’t…”

“Don’t?”

His Master clicked his tongue, disapproving and sensual all at once. He was tugging and pushing the flared base of the metal but plug in and out, creating a slow, maddening pace. Yoongi had picked a medium-sized one. Didn’t know how long he was going to have it in, but wanted to be prepared and all that.

“I do what I want with you, Yoongi. I am your Master, and you are my plaything.”

Fuck, he was so damn cocky but the pleasure was immense, breaking him down. Yoongi hadn’t even realized how the need to be touched had heightened and now the sudden devoted attention was making his jaw clench and his eyelids flutter, a gasping moan escaping him as warm fingers closed around his neglected cock, immediately becoming stiffer at the coaxing strokes.

“I… o-oh, fuck…”

Somehow his arms had slid around to the other man’s back and his head dipped down, forehead against shoulder, his hands splaying over the vest. The corset prevented him from bending over any further, but he couldn’t really see anything due to the skirt anyway. Probably for the best, because if Yoongi saw that hand covered in those rings, he would want to cover them with his cum immediately.

“Our clothes… f-fuck… You’re going to ruin our clothes,” he mumbled, biting back a moan as his cock was choked and the butt plug was fully shoved into his ass with deliberate force.

“You mean you’re going to ruin our clothes.”

Yoongi bit his lower lip and hissed behind his teeth, locking his arms around the other man and trying very hard not to orgasm as the persistent strokes started up again. There was no logic in holding himself back other than his own stubbornness and, of course, prompting his Master to edge him, which he did so happily. Too happily, first driving him so close that Yoongi buried his lips into the other man’s neck and almost screamed, only to be cut off with a firm squeeze to the head, causing his whole body to spasm with need, and then building the second orgasm by dropping his cock completely to toy with the butt plug instead. Holding his ass open with one hand, rings leaving indecent indents, and using his right hand to pull out the plug completely, circling the exposed, shivering hole with the tip, and then shoving it back in, creating a mortifying wet sucking sound that was a combination of lube and his tight ass.

Yoongi was determined not to embarrass himself with begging.

He deserved a reward for merely mewling for release, feeling his cock bob and smack his inner thighs, so close but not close enough.

“What’s that?”

Fuck, don’t make me say it.

Yoongi whimpered under his breath.

“P… Please…”

The response was sweet venom.

“Please what?”

He should have known. This sadist. Yoongi had half a mind to use his real name but he resisted and remained a good little maid.

“Please fuck me, Master.”

It was worth it.

He still had to be patient, of course. Honestly, Yoongi was beginning to enjoy being dragged along a little, held close by the waist as he was placed firmly on top of the other man on the bed. The apron was tossed aside. He held onto the other male’s shoulders as the hook-and-eyes were undone, not quite looking him in the face. Probably had something to do with how hot his cheeks felt right now. The corset was tugged out of the skirt. His blouse fell out with it, covering them in a curtain of white chiffon.

They undressed each other.

Usually, it was faster and with voracious greed. But this time, it was button by button. Dismantling his vest, chancing a moment to raise his gaze and see himself being observed. Not in a discerning way. No, more in a…

Dare he believe it?

Adored way.

I am so fucked.

“I enjoyed the packaging, but you look better naked, Yoongi.”

“… Shut up.”

He leaned down as the zipper of his skirt was undone, pressing his lips to exposed skin. He felt a racing heartbeat under his kiss, heard the soft sigh of contentment above him. There was only a single stray button holding the blouse together, but Yoongi didn’t let the other man access it, instead skimming his lips down that torso, inhaling the scent of cologne and warm skin. He took the skirt with him, untangling it from his legs and pushing it down the bottom edge of the bed. The stockings were loose too, so he got rid of them as well, tugging down the slacks in his descent. The other man got the hint and helped him out, shedding the rest of their lower clothes.

He closed his mouth around his Master’s cock.

“Yoongi… ah…”

He was soft but only for a moment. It was the perfect opportunity to loop his tongue around those balls as he worked that length to its hardest, running his tongue along the underside of the head, popping his lips softly at the ridge, kneading those thighs under his hands. Blowjobs on the bed were a different story. He had the most control here and the help of gravity, pushing all the way down into his throat until he couldn’t breathe and then, again, moaning as fingers tangled into his hair and locked his head in place, those hips rising into his mouth instead, fucking his throat slow and hard.

“That’s enough. Come up here and show me what’s hiding under your shirt.”

Heat rushed into his face. Shit. He tried to resist. Kept his lips locked around that hard cock, but a sharp pull of his hair sent a flare of pain that could not be ignored and he winced, gasping and clawing up the bed as he was decisively dragged up by his head. Saliva dripped down his chin, his mouth open, panting hard as he rose by force, his palms struggling to find footing in the sheets, meeting a cocked eyebrow and impassive expression.

Yoongi was above, but he felt below this dominant energy.

Fingertips touched his stomach.

The inhale caught in his throat.

Those dark, dark eyes did not look away.

No words exchanged. The touch traveled up. Up. Stopping at the leather straps, snapping each one against Yoongi’s skin. He whimpered, still held by his hair, shuddering. He could feel the onyx stones of some of those sterling silver rings. His blouse still held a single button, but it was rising with the forearm sliding up under it. And then.

The buttonhole was a little too big for the small mother-of-pearl button.

The shirt popped open.

For a moment, the darkness remained locked in gaze.

And then the man who called himself Dionysus at times looked down.

Yoongi shut his eyes, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep down his neck. It wasn’t so much the leather harness itself but rather the obviousness of how fucking down bad he was. Fuck, I need to get a grip– but any more thoughts were gone in a snap, his eyes shooting open at the sharp pain, his shoulders flexing to tighten the tension of the leather. Looking down, watching and feeling a thumb rub into his hard nipple, and then, snap! Gasping as the strap smacked back against his skin, excitement pooling down his stomach as another long finger pulled back on another strap, taking it as far as it would go, and moaning as it hit him in the recoil of being let go.

Holy.

Fuck.

His back was arched so the straps along the front were all taut. His damn ass in the air and all. Fuck. The white blouse had slipped down his shoulders, his torso jerking at the inflicted pain, his hair falling into his face, sweat breaking out along his forehead, his inner muscles clenching around the butt plug.

Fuck it.

Yoongi couldn’t wait any longer.

He reached past the other male and grabbed the towel on the nightstand. Didn’t bother to ask. Threw aside his shirt and reached back, jaw tightening as he gripped the base of the anal plug. It was a little slippery from the lube but, as he always prepared beforehand, it was clean. He was almost lightheaded with hunger as he pulled it out, whimpering at the loss, rolling it into the towel and placing the bundle back onto the nightstand.

Leaving the black leather body harness on.

Naturally, Yoongi wanted to be fucked in it.

“Aw, I wanted to bend you over and make you lift your skirt to show me.”

“Next time,” Yoongi growled back, twitching at the thought. “What position?”

The devil’s smile returned.

“How else? Ride me.”

Yoongi felt the color drain from his face. This sadist really wants to hammer it home, huh. “F… Fine.”

He was already in position. There wasn’t far to move. He just had to position his hips and lift his hard cock to look down and see the other man gripping his girth with his right hand, slowly stroking himself, white pre-cum beading against the dark purple head.

The silver rings gleamed under him.

“Want a condom?”

He shook his head. “I prepped. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not. Asking for your comfort.”

Yoongi glanced up.

Fuck, he was so damn hot. The guitar pick necklace was bunched up, the pendant stuck in between his collarbones. Shirt and vest still clinging around his upper arms. Didn’t seem bothered by it. Yoongi swallowed, lowering himself.

“Not too slow,” that throaty voice hummed. “You’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

Normally Yoongi would tell him to go fuck himself but presently he was too horny and too subservient to care, which was precisely why he held open his own ass, relaxed, and sank down. The other male held himself steady, exhaling deeply as he slid in. Still bigger than a plug, fuck, and Yoongi snapped his head back, gasping at the fullness, letting go of his own cock and gripping his thighs, trying to get used to the size. He figured he had enough experience with anal by now but, fuck, he was so damn hard and thick.

Fuck.

He was given a moment to adjust.

Then Yoongi felt a hand close around his leaking cock.

“W-What…?”

This sadist had the audacity to raise his free left hand and press his index finger to his full lips.

“Less talking. More moving.”

You…

Yoongi felt the stiff length twitch inside him and he groaned, rocking his hips into it. Their clothes on the floor. The skirt. The stockings. The apron. The blouse. The pleasure mounting with him, filling himself again and again, using gravity and lust to his advantage, tightening his core to make the pleasure radiate. Gripping the sheets next to his calves, feeling the leather straps cut into his chest, his nipples getting hard at the pain, watching himself get jacked off with that hand covered in silver rings, inescapable ecstasy radiating up his spine.

“I… I’m going to… cum all over your stomach…” Yoongi gasped, whining as he hit his favorite spot, fuck, so deep and so full, relishing in being used like a plaything for pleasure while being pushed to his own limit.

His boyfriend grinned like the devil.

“Mhm, that’s the goal.”

It was an obscene scene.

In retrospect, Yoongi couldn’t outline all the details of it. He was too far gone, too turned on and too many sensations deep to remember how long it lasted. Tipping his head back, thrusting that cock deep into his ass, moaning as he felt the strap at his waist being caught, pulled, digging the straps into his back instead of his chest, feeling the tightness around his upper thighs, violent pleasure building between his spread-open legs, his cock throbbing in a punishing grip, closer, gasping.

Closer.

“F-Fuck!”

He tucked his chin down in dismay, groaning while he watched his hips flinch and felt his cock pulse, dripping out a stream of white across the other man’s lower belly. The hand stopped but his climax didn’t, searing him with blinding pleasure as more cum shot out and smeared everywhere, staining the air with the scent of semen. Yoongi gasped, reeling, and then whined. Two hands clasped around his hips and the other male thrust up into him, hard, again, again, sending Yoongi’s eyes rolling back at the roughness, pitching forward and catching himself with his palms, losing himself to the fucking from below, trying to assist, but the orgasm was too fresh and his body was still limp, forcing him to merely hold on and take it, again, again, deep, hard, used like a plaything.

My darling.

Yoongi moaned as he felt the jerking cock spill into him, pumping him full of cum.

The forbidden name escaped his lips, pleading.

Yoongi could never explain how the other male had the strength. Maybe it was some kind of freakish adrenaline. One moment he was on top, still disoriented from the brutality, the next, he was on his back, his own cum sticking to his lower stomach and crotch, arms and hands around his back and ass to hold him in place when he was lifted. The fuck? And the cock was still inside his ass by some miracle.

Wait.

He…

His Master was still hard.

Yoongi gasped, feeling the cum inside him squish as the other male clenched his jaw and slid back in, slow and deliberate. Pleasuring himself. Instinctively, Yoongi pressed his thighs to the other male’s sides, surprised to feel the brocade shirt was somehow still on. In fact, there was sweat sliding down that chest, which almost never happened. He was usually never hot.

Well, also, Yoongi couldn’t remember the last time he had been creampied and continuously fucked.

He wasn’t complaining though.

He couldn’t say anything at all, desperately panting, the pleasure too much to worry about silly things like breathing, grabbing onto the shirt collar and thrusting up to meet those hips. Both of them moaned in unison, cum sticking between them, lost in lust, forgetting responsibilities and fucking instead, so close, so full, the squishing, slapping sound getting louder and louder.

A low growl.

“I’m gonna cum, Yoongi.”

His words jumbled together and barely made any sense.

“Fuck, yes, in me, fuck, cum in me.”

The hips smacked together.

The rising lust burst, pumping him full of cum again, his eyes cracking open to witness. Lashes lowered, mauve lips parted, the tip of pink tongue over white teeth, carnal satisfaction melting over his features. Weighted exhale drifting out. Warmth spreading over Yoongi’s arms.

Yoongi gripped onto the shirt collar, staring up at him.

There’s no one else for me.

Those dark, dark orbs shifted and looked down at him.

“Happy?” the husky voice panted, smirking slightly.

He had a witty response prepared but he promptly forgot it. “Yeah. That was some of the best sex I’ve ever had.”

The smirk widened, pleased. “You’ve said that before.”

“It’s true every time. You get better.”

A wink. “Helps when you’ve got a tight virgin ass.”

Yoongi felt his eyebrow twitch. He regretted being honest. “Shut up. Get off me.”

“Um, you seem to forget I pumped your ass full of cum.”

“Sounds like your problem.”

“This is our home, remember, which makes it our problem.”

Yes, it was, but Min Yoongi took a leaf out of Jeon Jungkook’s book and remained a brat. His boyfriend liked that shit, as evidenced by the bickering, and the later not-so-punishing punishment of being bent over in the shower to get his ass fucked again because he was being freaking annoying. Ah, love.

What?

Yoongi didn’t just think that. Nope.

masterpost

#bts smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jungkook x male wiyllt #yoongi x male wiyllt #jungkook x male oc #yoongi x male oc

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