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This was not how Min Yoongi would spend a regular Saturday night.
If he was honest with himself, this wasn’t how he’d spend any regular night, had it not been for his curiosity and growing need to relieve stress.
And what better way to relieve stress than getting whipped and fucked and belittled, right? Turned into a plaything for a while, at the disposal of two men – men who were younger than him, at that.
Yoongi was a kinky person, to be fair. He liked being small and letting partners take control, having them guide and lead him. He loved being manhandled, being teased and roughed up. But he’d never done it with any professional dominants, and he probably never would even think of it had Jimin not suggested it. During a recording session, of all things.
It had started with Yoongi being… out of it. He’d not been sexually active lately, and his last hookup had been so disasterously unsatisfying that he felt more frustrated after it.
On that particular day, as they were recording a new track for Jimin’s upcoming album, Yoongi was sleep-deprived, restless and completely unfocused. He kept zoning out, forgetting to give feedback or properly lead the session, and it took less than twenty minutes for Jimin to clock that something was off.
And something was off.
Yoongi had been trying to scratch the itch to submit by watching porn and trying to touch himself in hopes that it would be enough. And, well, it did help to massage his own prostate with toys and edging himself, but only marginally– The tension deep in his gut would still be right where it was when his orgasm would recede, leaving him tired and dirty on his sheets with legs that felt like cooked spaghetti, without anyone to take care of him.
Which brought him to his current state: In a high-end, private BDSM club, about to partake in his first session with established dominants.
Yoongi could be second-guessing himself if it weren’t for the fact that he was looking forward to it.
Jimin was the one to recommend it. “I know some of the members,” he’d said, holding Yoongi’s hand over the coffee they’d gotten during their early break from recording. “It’s a very safe space, you know, hyung? And I’m sure Hoseokie and Namjoonie would love to take care of you. I know they’d been looking for a new sub lately – let me hook you guys up?”
Reluctantly, Yoongi had agreed to contact the couple who were, in Jimin’s words, the best match for him. Jimin had told him they had a thing for “breaking in” new submissives – a corruption kink of sorts. Apparently, just what Yoongi was looking for.
Their first meet-up had been in a café in Gangnam, and they’d sat at a table in a secluded and relatively private corner to introduce themselves to one another. It was awkward initially– Yoongi had never really imagined himself explaining his sexual needs over dessert.
He’d tried to be a bit vague at first, just to protect his dignity a little, but Hoseok had pulled out a small notebook and asked him to be more specific, and any possibility of Yoongi hiding behind broad statements like I just want to be taken care of had dissolved just like that.
Yoongi was impatient to start now – vibrating with excitement, in fact. He was finally in the lounge, minutes away from being taken apart by the couple. Any questions or hesitations he wanted to voice had been addressed weeks in advance, and he was essentially the engineer of this whole session that was about to commence. It felt secure. Kind of like bungee jumping, hyung, Hoseok had told him during one of their meet-ups. You’re free-falling but not hitting the ground. We’re always here to bring you back up, yeah?
Yoongi knew they would be there, alright. They were educated and experienced professionals who knew what they were doing.
And they really did know. They made him feel so safe and so properly seen. Namjoon especially had spent considerable time building a relationship between the three of them, arranging hangouts and dinners and even coffee dates outside of their regular meet-ups where they discussed boundaries and built a plan for the scene together.
Yoongi had learned, through these regular interactions, that they weren’t just the two men to whom he was going to hand over his body and will. They were a young, successful couple with different but equally intriguing personalities – Namjoon, the calmly warm one; Hoseok, the slightly chaotic and genuinely funny one. They completed each other, in a sense, and it was fun to get to know them before anything intense happened. Not that Yoongi would mind, but it would be different.
For starters, he wouldn’t feel strangely at ease with being naked in a large room full of strangers.
It wasn’t crowded, exactly. People were scattered across expensive furniture, lounging, perfectly calm when Yoongi walked in. Hoseok had helped him put on a sleek, steel collar before he came out, and it was sitting somewhat uncomfortably on his throat. The tightly knit links wrapped his neck in a solid embrace.
Yoongi had picked it personally.
It didn’t hurt, but the collar was quite snug around his neck. It didn’t have anything to tug on and choke him, because apparently that would have been dangerous with thinner collars like this.
Still, Yoongi hoped to try another collar when –if– they played again in the future. Maybe a leather one, one that would be safer to choke him with. He swallowed with the thought, the movement of his Adam’s apple making the collar shift slightly as his eyes found a somewhat familiar face.
It was Taehyung-ssi, Hoseok had introduced them just last week after a meeting; apparently, he was a high-profile businessman who’d been in the club for a long time. The man was in full formal wear, a bordeaux three-piece suit that was obviously tailored to his proportions hugging his body, and his expression was as neutral as it could be. He had a naked man comfortably sprawled on his lap, a man with doe eyes and a ridiculously muscular build, head resting against Taehyung’s chest as his hair was gently being toyed with. His submissive.
Recognition flashed in Taehyung’s predatory eyes for a second when he made eye contact with Yoongi, and the corner of his lips tugged up with a small smirk, making Yoongi feel a jolt of excitement in his belly. He looked away, trying to focus, to blink away the absolute distraction being watched already was. Of course, he’d known he would have an audience beforehand; he had agreed to it very enthusiastically, but being in the actual presence of spectators –clinical and distanced spectators, too– was much different than what he’d initially thought it would be like.
He kept his hands open on his sides, waiting for Hoseok and Namjoon to emerge as he felt eyes roaming his bare and vulnerable body. He felt exposed and small already – it was part of the play, he wanted to feel humiliated, and he enjoyed the discomfort of trying to manage the sheer whiplash this gave him. The transition from on-paper discussions and agreements to… the execution of them, physically being open and bare like this. It was uncharted territory for him, and he could feel himself heating up already.
His tense muscles relaxed a fraction when he heard footsteps behind him, familiar and comfortable strides. He smelled Hoseok and Namjoon before they got into his visual field, a musky and citrusy scent that they shared reaching his nose– Yoongi’s shoulders dropped involuntarily, and the task of looking ahead became much easier now that he knew they were close.
A hand touched his bare shoulder, a warm and grounding contact that lasted half a second before it was gone again. It was Hoseok, he realised after a moment. “Ah, I see everyone’s here already,” he said with a smile. He wasn’t looking at Yoongi yet. Instead, his eyes scanned the small audience first, and he nodded toward them. “Good. Namjoon-ah, wanna check if we have everything ready while I go over the scene here?”
Namjoon made a sound of confirmation, a deep hum that vibrated through Yoongi’s head, and he stepped toward the small, low table to the right. Yoongi eyed the table, noting that tools and toys he recognised were laid neatly on top of it – ropes, a riding crop, nipple clamps, and a violet wand that looked very innocent and almost cute.
He willed himself to look away as Hoseok’s steps sounded again, carrying through the focused silence of the room. He stopped right before Yoongi, effectively getting between him and the audience.
He looked good, Yoongi noticed. Hoseok was wearing a pair of dark slacks that hugged his slender, long legs and a basic white shirt with its top buttons undone to expose his collarbones and upper chest. It was nothing fancy, really, but he looked expensive – the way he carried himself was different, more confident and focused.
“What’s your name?” he asked. His tone was light with an obviously authoritative edge that made Yoongi want to drop to his knees already.
He took a breath instead. “Yoongi,” he answered, voice smaller than he’d like. He was already slipping slightly; it was hard to stay composed with Hoseok’s sheer presence pressing against his own, forcing him down.
Hoseok chuckled a bit, reaching out to touch Yoongi’s chin and making him look up. “To the room, darling,” he said as his eyes traveled across Yoongi’s features. His fingers grazed his jawline before the contact was gone again, and he took a small step to the side, gesturing to the audience. “People wanna know who this new toy is. Tell them, speak up.”
A shudder traveled through his system as Yoongi’s eyes refocused on the spectators again, sitting all too comfortably. He realised some of them had wine glasses in hand, as if they were here to enjoy a show. Which, to be fair, they were.
Yoongi tried to square his shoulders, stand a bit taller, but it felt out of place even to himself. He wasn’t used to this – he was a well-known producer, for God’s sake, he was used to people looking at him with respect, he was used to leading a room.
Oh, thank the lord for the NDAs everyone had to sign to be in this very room.
It was so foreign. Being looked at like a shiny new object that was about to be broken. He wasn’t used to feeling so insignificant, so out of control.
To his absolute delight, though, he was melting already. He could feel his walls coming down, his composure pleasantly fraying with the simple fact that he was here and he was about to be taken care of. It was as if his body was preparing him– The longing he’d been feeling was now anticipation, bubbling hot in his stomach and traveling all the way to his fingertips.
“My name is Yoongi,” he said, clearer this time. He kept his posture neutral but dignified– Not that it could make up for his nudity and the heavy collar around his neck, but still. It was a reflex, almost.
One he hoped to be trained out of today.
Hoseok hummed as he slowly circled him. “Better,” he noted. “What are you here for, Yoongi?”
“For training,” Yoongi said plainly, the absence of honorifics in Hoseok’s question making his muscles involuntarily tense, just slightly. It felt disarming to hear his own name leave someone’s lips so casually. Someone younger, too.
Hoseok stayed silent for a bit, slowly circling him again. It was predatory, the way he was moving. Yoongi let his gaze flick to the audience again. Someone was feeding their partner grapes, and the sight was straight out of a sinful portrait. Dimly lit room, red and black furniture, formal wear. Grapes, wine, naked submissives serving their masters with nothing but collars around their necks.
His heart skipped a beat when he registered that he was one of them. Just on the other side of the performance.
He shuddered when Hoseok spoke again: “Training in what,” the younger man said, not a question but a probe – he knewthe answer, after all. He gently held Yoongi by the shoulders and turned him around so his back would face the spectators, and Yoongi didn’t resist, although he could feel himself starting to blush, a violent warmth climbing up his neck.
There was a buttplug in his ass.
A brand new one he’d gotten just a few days ago and wanted to include in the scene– He’d figured he’d like to be prepared, as well as he possibly could. The plug was heavy, and it shifted in his lube-slicked hole with each small movement, the shiny purple gem on its notch pricking his ass cheeks a little.
He heard a few careful whispers as he closed his eyes momentarily. “Training in obedience and submission,” he said, his voice cracking just a bit, grandiose stance dwindling with eyes stinging at his bare skin. He tried to think back to their meetings, to recall the vocabulary Hoseok and Namjoon had used. “Oral training,” he went on carefully, “impact play and electrostimulation, and orgasm denial. Light bondage, too.”
Hoseok’s hand found his waist this time, to turn him back around, to get him to face his audience again. “That’s right,” he said. There was a small, knowing smile on his lips – he knew how exposed he’d just made Yoongi feel. “We’re gonna see what works and what doesn’t, yeah? Good. Now– Are you here under the influence of anyone?”
“No,” Yoongi responded quickly.
Hoseok waited for a second. He shook his head, then, slowly. “Manners, darling,” he reminded.
Yoongi felt his breath hitch. It was starting– Slowly, agonizingly, but it was starting. He flexed his fingers on his sides, fingertips grazing his upper thighs. “No, sir,” he fixed himself, the title feeling like a physical weight in his mouth.
As he’d come to learn, Hoseok liked to be addressed formally during a scene – unlike Namjoon, who was okay with just being called Namjoon-ah. I don’t really care much, he’d said, as long as you follow. Hoseok’s the one who has a thing for titles, not me.
A few seconds passed before Hoseok made a sound of affirmation. “Are you currently under the influence of a substance?” he asked this time, punctuating the question by tilting his head slightly.
“No, sir,” Yoongi said, willing his tense shoulders to drop a bit. “I’m here because I want to.”
Hoseok nodded, pleased. “Good. What are your code words? Mind explaining them to me, so I know we’re on the same page?”
“Red, yellow and green, sir.” Yoongi shakily exhaled. After some deliberation, they’d decided they were better off using the traffic light system, especially for the first session. Yoongi found it easy to understand and communicate, too. He exhaled before continuing, “Red means I withdraw my consent, yellow means I need you to check in with me, and green means everything is okay and I’d like to keep going. Um, and if I can’t speak, I go ah-ah-ah.”
Namjoon stepped back in as he was explaining, and he stopped to Yoongi’s right, exchanging a look with Hoseok before he nodded. “That’s right,” he said, “and when do you withdraw consent, baby? When do you use red?”
That made Yoongi pause. Not because he didn’t know the answer, but because the question touched something soft within himself. He blinked up at Namjoon, then at Hoseok, and noticed both of them had that careful and private look in their eyes. They cared about this, Yoongi knew– Cared a lot, actually. He remembered Hoseok looking at him with the same expression he had now. You might be giving us something, hyung, but it’s still yours, okay? Always, he’d said.
“Whenever I don’t want to continue anymore,” Yoongi said. He swallowed, the sensation of the steel collar moving around his neck surprisingly grounding. “I– There’s no threshold for me to say red. If I don’t want to go on, everything stops.”
Namjoon smiled, looking proud, before him and Hoseok exchanged a look again. Hoseok was the one who nodded this time, the same proud smile on his lips too, and Yoongi felt so happy that he got them to look pleased like this. He shifted, just a fraction as he waited for what was next, hoping it was–
“Beautiful,” Hoseok remarked, interrupting his train of thought with that tone that made him feel so weak and small and needy. “Let’s start, then. See how well he follows, yeah, Namjoon-ah?” He glanced at Yoongi, his expression turning sharper now, something heavy and authoritative settling. “You green, baby?”
“Yes, sir,” Yoongi said. It came a bit sooner than he’d like, a bit more enthusiastic, and he felt a stab of embarrassment with it, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t dying for them to start already. He took a shaky breath and nodded to make it even plainer. “Yes, please.”
The couple regarded him with something akin to excitement, their shoulders brushing each other, Hoseok’s lithe and lean body angled slightly towards his partner’s stronger one.
Then, the first order came: “On your knees,” Namjoon commanded, voice a low rumble that carried easily through the room.
Fucking finally.
Yoongi went down, knees hitting the carpeted floor with a soft thud. He folded his shins under his thighs and sat back slightly as he placed his hands on his lap, trying not to wince because of the plug shifting in his hole with the change in position. He kept his spine straight and neutral, his eyes ahead, and his jaw flexed once before he settled.
The room looked larger from down here, he realised. The walls seemed taller, the furniture larger, the men standing before him more threatening.
Yoongi could feel his skin itch with expectation as he recalibrated. He was on the floor and at the disposal of his dominants. He wasn’t the PD-nim anymore, he was just… small and open. He felt soft, vulnerable like this. So ready to be told what to do, what he was. Ready to just serve them, be theirs for a while.
He wondered at what point they’d start calling him names– He’d circled both praise and verbal degradation with a red marker when they were initially discussing what was on the table, and he could easily recall now how Hoseok’s lips had curved just slightly.
As he was slowly sinking into himself, getting more suggestible by the second, Namjoon’s large hand found his chin and guided him to look up, deceptively kind. “Eyes up,” he said, nodding when Yoongi obeyed. “Good boy,” he mused, “look at you sitting so pretty. Gonna be so fun to play with, won’t you, baby? Such a doll.”
“Would be a shame if we broke him, huh, Namjoon-ah?” Hoseok sounded. There was a clear smirk in his voice; he was obviously entertained by the idea. “Look at him, so eager. Even prepped himself so we can fuck him stupid – a cock hungry little thing, are you, darling?”
Yoongi made a sound at that– He couldn’t help it, not with the sweet humiliation of being belittled, talked about like he was a dog about to be taught a trick. He swallowed, his neck straining a bit as he held the angle to look at them, the collar biting at his skin slightly. “I– I wanted to be ready, sir,” he answered, fighting back the shiver he felt coming as Namjoon’s fingers traveled along his jaw and left cheek.
“Did you enjoy stretching yourself out for us?” Hoseok probed, moving to get behind him, trapping him between the couple. “Hmm? Did you cum?”
“I didn’t, sir,” Yoongi said, eyes still on Namjoon, who was currently running his thumb along his lower lip lightly. His pupils were blown already, he could feel it– The dimly lit space felt brighter. “I wanted to wait for you, sir,” he continued effortfully, each word making the heat he felt in his neck and face more intense.
“Mm, such a good baby,” Hoseok remarked casually. “Open up, now. Let Namjoonie here toy with your pretty mouth so we know what we’re dealing with.”
Yoongi opened his mouth, and he didn’t really know where the fingers came from– Namjoon’s fingers, past his teeth, fingertips sliding on his tongue lightly. Yoongi tried to stay still but shuddered with a small whimper, unfamiliar with being intruded upon like this.
“Eyes up. Tongue out,” Namjoon said simply, and hummed when Yoongi obeyed. He slid his fingers deeper, earning another small sound from the man on his knees. “Don’t close your mouth, alright? You’ll drool, I want you to. Want you to make a mess on your pretty chest by the time we’re done here.”
Yoongi blinked up at him and hummed to communicate he understood. He kept still, as still as he could, before Namjoon’s fingers grazed the back of his throat slightly and made him gag a little. He effortfully swallowed, scared he’d stop, but–
Namjoon lowly chuckled.
Honestly, it was more intimidating than any other thing he could do. Yoongi’s breath hitched a little, his tongue eagerly poking out further as he looked up at him.
“Relax that throat, baby,” Namjoon rasped as he pressed in again, more comfortably now since his fingers were slicked with Yoongi’s spit. “Not used to this, are you? Too bad you’ll have to learn.”
The pads of his long fingers found the submissive’s gag reflex again and pressed, making Yoongi’s vision go blurry with tears. He blinked them away and tried to focus his gaze on the man towering over him again. Meanwhile, Namjoon kept probing, seemingly trying to gauge how deep he could go. His short nails grazed Yoongi’s throat a little, making him cough once around his fingers.
Yoongi wasn’t a quitter, though. Never had been.
He didn’t flinch back, forced his body to stay as still as it could while Namjoon pressed and probed around all over his mouth. He kept his mouth wide open despite the intrusion that went all the way to his throat, and he forcefully relaxed as his vision swam with hot, unshed tears. His hands flinched occasionally, the instinct to brace himself too strong, but he forced them down.
Yoongi couldn’t swallow like this, and he could feel spit pooling in his mouth and around Namjoon’s long fingers. His jaw was stretched so wide now that it ached, but he couldn’t even pay it attention as he watched Namjoon’s expression above him. The man looked focused, his thumb pressing under Yoongi’s chin to keep him in place as he started practically fucking his mouth with his fingers. His brows were knit together with concentration, and there was a hint of amusement in his narrowed eyes.
“Look at him, taking it so well,” Hoseok cooed from somewhere Yoongi couldn’t quite see. There was rustling, then footsteps approaching. “Ah, those pretty hands are restless, though, aren’t they? We should do something about them.”
Yoongi shivered as he felt Hoseok’s arms around him for a moment. He couldn’t turn his head and look, let alone protest, as Hoseok grabbed his wrists and led them to his back. He moaned around Namjoon’s fingers, feeling a drop of drool drip from his chin to his bare chest as he kept looking up, unable to do anything about what was happening to his body at the moment.
“Keep these here, darling,” Hoseok said, squeezing his hands together behind his back once before letting go. “Let me wrap you up, mm? I have a surprise for you after this.”
Yoongi whined, blinking away fresh tears that kept coming due to his gag reflex being relentlessly toyed with. He felt rough friction against his wrists, then– The thick jute rope they’d decided on together.
The rough contact was like a spike of electricity.
Initially, Hoseok had actually suggested leather cuffs. More beginner-friendly, he’d said. But of course, Yoongi had asked for something that would hurt a little, maybe leave marks, even– Hence, the jute ropes were brought into the conversation, and after getting his wrists tied with them once to see how they felt, Yoongi had been so fucking down for them.
Namjoon must have seen something flash in his expression, because he pulled his fingers out of Yoongi’s mouth, his gaze flicking behind the elder, to his partner. He smiled a little. “You should see his eyes, Seok-ah,” he murmured, getting down on one knee to look at Yoongi more closely. “They’re all bright and excited– You wanna be ruined so bad, huh, Yoongi-ah?”
Yoongi swallowed and nodded, blinking rapidly as he took in shallow, quick breaths. “Yes,” he managed to gasp.
As he maintained eye contact with Namjoon, Hoseok finished tying his wrists together in a simple, tight knot.
There was a small silence during which nothing but Yoongi’s wet, laboured breathing was audible, and Namjoon broke it not by speaking, but by smiling wickedly at him.
“Did I tell you to close your mouth, you slut?” he asked after a few seconds.
Yoongi felt his blood freeze in his veins.
A small, desperate sound ripped from his tongue as he opened his mouth again– His eyes were fixed on Namjoon still, the dominant was looking right into his eyes, the smile still curving his full lips as he studied Yoongi. “Too late, baby,” he cooed, slipping his long fingers into Yoongi’s mouth again. Three fingers quickly shoved their way all the way to Yoongi’s throat, making him gag as his eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open.
Namjoon looked at Hoseok again as his thumb dug harshly under Yoongi’s chin to keep him in place. His face was neutral, with only a hint of dark satisfaction in his eyes. He nodded once, his eyes flicking to the right– The table, Yoongi realised distantly. He was gesturing at the table. His fingers slid in and out of Yoongi’s mouth without giving him a break, and Hoseok shifted behind the submissive, got up to retrieve… something.
“Sir is gonna strike you now,” Namjoon said, focusing his attention back on Yoongi. His free hand came up to palm at the hair behind Yoongi’s head, firmly keeping him in place as he drew his fingers deeper and made him gag again. “You’re gonna be a good little bitch and keep your eyes on me when he does. Is that understood?”
Yoongi made a choked-out sound of confirmation. He was drooling around the younger’s fingers, eyes glazed over with tears and the growing intensity of his subspace, desperate to please. His muscles tensed with the expectation of a blow – he didn’t know what was coming, how much it was going to sting, how it was going to burn. His fingers twitched as he moved his hands desperately, and the rope binding his wrists behind him uncomfortably grazed his sensitive skin.
The strike didn’t come right away, though. Yoongi felt soft leather against the middle of his spine first, and he shivered with a muffled moan, thighs pressing together under him as the leather tip of a riding crop traveled upwards. It stroked its way up and stopped in the middle of his shoulder blades.
“I wonder where this delicious skin would bruise more prettily,” Hoseok said behind him. There was genuine contemplation in his tone. The crop moved after he spoke, traveling back down. “Mm. Maybe…” Hoseok muttered, and the leather cut contact with Yoongi’s skin. Then–
A short, whistling sound and the smack of the whip landing on the curve of his ass.
Yoongi would scream, genuinely scream his lungs out if he could. But his mouth was far too full with his throat was working around the fingers that were stuffed down his lips, and through the effort of keeping his mouth open and his eyes on Namjoon, his would-be scream was muffled down into a high yelp– His body jolted with the impact, fingers twitching and nails digging into his palms as the white pain settled into a biting, unbearably hot stinging on his skin. He blinked his eyes, making sure not to close them for long, with fresh tears rolling down as he kept looking at the man crouching before him.
For a second, Namjoon just watched him. It was so disarming, the way he was regarding the submissive in his hold– His knowing eyes took in the sight of the typically intimidating producer, on his knees and naked, wrists bound as he cried, drooling around fingers that filled his mouth.
Namjoon huffed out an entertained laugh. “Good fucking boy,” he said, pressing down onto Yoongi’s tongue with a bit more force before he removed his spit-slicked fingers from his mouth. He hummed and looked up with a smirk. “His teeth didn’t even touch my fingers, Seok-ah. He took that so well.”
Yoongi shivered, pride blooming in his chest with the words. He kept his mouth open and tongue out as Namjoon stood back up, and he watched, unable to move from where he was, completely at their mercy as the dominant stood over him. The leather softly touched his skin again, right where it had hit him a second ago, and Yoongi whined, wincing with the anticipation of another blow.
“Ah, bruising already,” Hoseok said behind with delight. His deliberate steps sounded, and he circled Yoongi, the tip of the long crop deliberately moving on his skin. “Such a soft little thing.”
Smack.
The blow was to his thigh this time, a bit harsher than the first one, the leather cleanly landing on his sensitive skin with focused force.
Without anything to muffle his voice, Yoongi let out a broken scream, his spine arching uncomfortably and his fists tightening behind his back. Fuck it burnt like hell, but weirdly he found his footing right away, focusing on fixing his posture that was disrupted with the strike and keeping his mouth open. He was panting now, the adrenaline caused by the expectation of pain making his blood boil in his veins and causing his breathing to get laboured. He could feel drool steadily dripping from his chin to his exposed chest.
“How many has it been, slut?” Hoseok asked, reaching out to thread his fingers in Yoongi’s hair and yank his head back into an uncomfortable angle. “You can close your mouth now. Tell me.”
“T-Two, sir,” Yoongi gasped, his voice hoarse now. He blinked his teary eyes and realised Namjoon was unbuckling his belt– His breath caught in his throat for a second before he swallowed with his eyes fixated on the dominant’s hands.
Hoseok caught it. Of course he did. He chuckled, low and degrading as his fingers tightened in Yoongi’s hair. “Ah, you wanna suck him off? Think you can handle the crop with his cock down your throat, huh?”
Well, Yoongi had no fucking clue if he could.
But his mouth watered nonetheless as Namjoon slipped his half-hard cock free from his slacks. The dom’s fingers curled around the shaft to stroke himself slowly, and Yoongi’s hands instinctively twitched from where they were bound as he whimpered, eager, wanting to reach out and touch, too.
He felt a little faint– Not a bad faint, it was more like… floating, a soft and hazy headspace crushing onto him. Weirdly, his physical discomfort was adding to it, helping him down, almost.
Freefalling. Yoongi wondered briefly if Hoseok was aware of just how accurate the simile was.
Another whip of the crop brought him back to reality, his fixation on Namjoon’s cock breaking as his chest took the blow, right below his right nipple. Yoongi thrashed, his legs violently twitching under him and new tears filling his vision as he yelped, high and embarrassing. He’d fall back if not for Hoseok’s hold in his hair, his body mindlessly jolting backward, away from the impact. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, and he took shaky breaths through his body absorbing the pain.
Hoseok tugged at his hair a little. “Count,” he commanded simply, voice in that icy register that made the hairs on Yoongi’s nape stand with a shiver.
“Three. Three, sir,” Yoongi said shakily, his glossy eyes back on Namjoon’s big hand stroking himself right in front of the submissive. His gaze flicked up to Hoseok, who was looking down at him with amusement. “Sir, may I please…”
“Aw, he has manners, huh?” Namjoon cooed, taking a step forward and crowding Yoongi’s vision, his hand still working himself slowly, his erection now completely rigid.
Yoongi wanted so badly to reach out, to take him in his mouth. He needed to taste him, so intensely that he wanted to cry.
“Sir,” he tried again, voice small and helpless, “may I please have Namjoon’s cock, please? Please, I–” His breath hitched as he paused. “Need it in my mouth, please, it’s… wanna taste.”
“How fucking pretty. Look at how well he begs,” Namjoon marveled, and his grip replaced Hoseok’s, his free hand tangling in Yoongi’s messy hair to position his head. “Show me that tongue, doll.”
Yoongi obeyed, enthusiastic as his tongue fell out of his mouth again. He moaned with satisfaction when Namjoon pressed the tip onto it, smearing precum across his wet tongue before sliding into his mouth unceremoniously.
It was a world away from the drag of his agile fingers– Namjoon’s dick was a heavy, hard mass that crowded his mouth and stuffed the breath out of him. Yoongi’s jaw stung as he opened wider, letting Namjoon force his way in until he hit the back of his throat and made him gag. The submissive’s arms tensed, his wrist burning from the friction of the jute rope as he tried to accommodate the sheer girth of him, shallowly breathing through his nose as he blinked his wet lashes.
“You’ll be such a perfect little cocksleeve, won’t you? I could just keep you by my feet, kneeling like this, all needy and small for me…” Namjoon mumbled breathily, getting back a fraction just to slowly thrust in again, fucking into Yoongi’s mouth. “Relax that pretty throat, now, or I’ll rip it open. C’mon, baby.”
Yoongi was trying, he really was. He did his best to force his throat to go lax enough to let Namjoon slide his cock through it, but it wasn’t exactly an easy task to do while spluttering around a big dick with his gag reflex being pressured cruelly. A low grunt escaped him, gritty and raw as he forced himself to breathe the best he could, his brows furrowing in concentration.
He almost flinched back when the tip of Namjoon’s cock slipped past the tight rim of his throat, making his whole body jolt with a violent gag. Though it wasn’t exactly like he could move much, not with his hands bound and his head being firmly held in place. He felt each agonizing millimeter that disappeared down his throat, making his neck bulge.
Fuck, it was so fucking arousing to him.
Yoongi let out a muffled groan, flushed all the way to his chest as he took it, his shuddering body stilling as his throat slowly got used to the stretch. Namjoon’s strong hands held him right where he was, and he slowly moved after seconds that felt like hours, his heavy erection dragging through Yoongi’s wet mouth with a squelch.
“Hear yourself, baby?” Hoseok asked lightly. He was talking like he was discussing something so mundane, like he was just making an innocent observation. “Hear how your whore mouth is taking it all? You were made for this, made to gag and cry on cock.”
Yoongi could only hum as Namjoon adjusted the angle of his head and started to deliver maddeningly deep thrusts right down his throat. He fluttered his eyes, sure that they were bloodshot already as he tried to keep them open.
Then, thankfully for his lungs, Namjoon slipped back completely, seemingly allowing him to catch himself a little. Yoongi gasped and coughed, and he was about to thank him when–
Smack.
Yoongi actually choked on his own spit momentarily, the small scream ripping out of him completely raw and choked as he tried to fold forward. His shoulders and torso locked up, the skin of his sensitive inner thigh that took the strike this time singing as he pressed his legs together.
He sobbed, unable to curl into himself because Namjoon was still holding him in place. He heard Hoseok chuckle as his tears began falling quicker, each fat bead cool against his burning cheeks.
“Fo– Four,” he whimpered without being asked, feeling his ego starting to break down properly, only the deep fuzz of being theirs remaining as he sobbed.
Hoseok hummed, sounding pleased as Namjoon slapped his wet cheek with his cock, his length heavy and demanding still. “Four, what?” Hoseok asked, circling him again, the leather tip stroking his back with a cruel, maddening gentleness.
“Four, sir,” Yoongi managed, and he almost whined again at the feeling of the leather against his body, but he couldn’t–
Namjoon pulled him in again, sliding into his mouth much more harshly now, forcing Yoongi’s head down. “Good little whore,” he grunted, cutting out the elder’s airflow as he snapped his hips forward insistently. “Let’s see if you can take it with your face getting fucked, huh, baby? What do you say, Seok-ah?”
Hoseok laughed melodically, and Yoongi heard his footsteps again as the leather left his skin. His eyes were closed as he tried to manage the invasion of his mouth and throat, but he forced them open when he heard a wet noise that was notcoming from him.
He narrowly opened his eyes, looking up to see the two dominants kissing over him.
As if Yoongi wasn’t even there.
As if he were a needy pet at their feet.
Yoongi moaned at the sight, at being so casually humiliated like this, shuddering with arousal as he watched Hoseok’s slender fingers cup Namjoon’s face gently, a complete contrast to how Namjoon was handling Yoongi simultaneously. He watched his dominants lick into each other’s mouths, heard Namjoon’s low moan as Hoseok tilted his head and bit his lip. He watched it all happen from his knees, while he was stuffed impossibly full with Namjoon’s cock, choking on it as his throat was fucked, his nose brushing the dominant’s pubes with each strong thrust.
When they parted, Hoseok swiping his thumb over Namjoon’s lower lip gently and looking at his partner through heavy-lidded eyes, Yoongi was still crying at their feet, muffled and obnoxious noises leaving his stuffed mouth with each small move of Namjoon’s cock in his mouth.
“Ah, he’s watching us,” Hoseok purred, a smile taking over his features as he looked down at Yoongi’s dazed eyes, meeting his gaze with his own. The crop was still in his hand, hanging loosely by his elegant fingers as he licked his lips that were puffed from the kiss he’d just shared with his partner. He chuckled. “Careful with your teeth, honey, Namjoonie doesn’t like sloppy whores,” he warned as he shifted and disappeared out of Yoongi’s field of vision again.
Smack. Right to the curve of his waist.
Then, before Yoongi even had the time to register the pain, again, a bit higher– Smack.
Yoongi’s jaw locked open painfully, and he forgot to breathe as the pain of both strikes hit him at once. His vision was swimming with tears as he messily spluttered around the intrusion of his throat. He strained with the effort of keeping his mouth open, covering his teeth with his lips to not accidentally graze Namjoon’s erection with them. His throat constricted involuntarily through it, squeezing tightly around the rigid length of the dick stuffing it full, and Namjoon moaned above him, his hips stuttering before he forcefully pushed Yoongi off by the hair with a wet noise.
“Fuck,” Namjoon breathed as Yoongi panted and coughed in his hold. “Almost made me cum right down that tight fucking throat– You really were made for this, baby. Such a good slut.”
A delighted sound reached Yoongi’s ears– Hoseok’s soft laughter. He swallowed and tried to find his voice again, but as his chest frantically heaved, only small and desperate hitches of air escaped his puffy lips.
He realised, with dread, that he couldn’t remember how many it had been. Was it five or six? It was– Maybe it was seven. No, it had to be six, right? It had to–
“Count, slut,” Hoseok ordered from behind him.
“I– Sir–” Yoongi stuttered, his frantic mind racing with panic as he whimpered. “Six,” he said finally, bracing himself, the number rumbling off his used-up tongue clumsily. “Five and six, sir.”
Before he got to learn if he was on the right number, Namjoon took a small step toward him and pulled on his hair to make the submissive’s face bury in the underside of his cock. Yoongi opened his mouth breathlessly, his tongue finding the younger’s balls as Namjoon moaned above him and smeared his tears around his burning cheek.
It was absolutely, mind-numbingly humiliating. The hard cock covered in Yoongi’s own spit slapped on his cheek, further messing up his already fucked out face as Yoongi whimpered and sucked feverishly, tongue clumsily licking across Namjoon’s balls and the base of his length.
“You’re a strong one, aren’t you, darling?” Hoseok asked behind him, and Yoongi shuddered, his wrists burning from the friction of the rope as he tried and failed to move desperately.
Namjoon hissed, still holding him down by his hair while he started stroking himself with his free hand, the tip of his cock leaking precum onto the elder’s cheek.
The crop hit Yoongi’s belly this time, right above his navel with a sharp sound that vibrated in Yoongi’s head. He wailed as his body squirmed, his painfully hard and neglected erection twitching with the impact as his shoulders rocked with sobs. He felt so exposed, so undone, breath hot against Namjoon’s balls as he uselessly wept, his jaw slack with the pain.
“S-Seven!” he spluttered, voice completely destroyed and desperate and slightly drowned out because his face was still pressed flush against Namjoon’s balls.
“He’s so far gone already,” Namjoon grunted, watching him struggle breathlessly under him. “Crying so prettily, such a messy bitch. Gonna paint your pretty face with my cum, baby, make sure you know exactly what you are.”
Yoongi could only moan and blink up at him with wide eyes before Namjoon adjusted his head again, separating him from his balls as he kept jerking himself off. The younger’s hand pumped his length, the tip aiming for Yoongi’s face as his long fingers worked from base to the crown, frantic, chasing his orgasm.
With cum shooting in thick stripes right onto his lips and cheek, Yoongi opened his mouth again, tongue catching some of Namjoon’s load. He whimpered, face covered in tears and spit, chin coated in his drool as Namjoon milked himself dry on his tongue, and for a short while, everything else was background noise. Everything but Namjoon’s heavy climax faded, and Yoongi kept his blown-out eyes on him, feeling reverent, proud for being allowed to taste him like this.
“There you fucking go,” Namjoon murmured, slapping the tip on his submissive’s tongue before releasing the hold on his hair. “Look at how well you took that. I knew you’d make a useful little toy.”
Yoongi moaned with the words, trying to keep his balance as Namjoon zipped himself back up in front of him, his dark slacks pristine and clean. The younger then crowded him again, leading him to rest his burning cheek on his clothed thigh. It was a small mercy, his little reward for behaving – Yoongi gratefully leaned onto his strong thigh, feeling his hand gently pet his hair before Namjoon guided him to raise his head.
“Look at them,” Hoseok’s voice sounded, making Yoongi shiver as his hazy, teary eyes slowly focused on the other side of the performance.
On his audience.
Yoongi made an unintelligible sound, biting his lips as Namjoon kept stroking his hair. “Look at your spectators, doll,” Hoseok repeated behind him, and the leather was back on Yoongi’s defenseless skin, gliding on his back now. “They just saw you get your pretty throat destroyed. Think they’re proud, mm?”
Yoongi could only whine, blinking rapidly now. He’d completely forgotten there were other people in the room. Through the static of his subspace and the absolute humiliation of being taken apart by the couple, he’d skipped entirely over the fact that he was being watched through all of it. His eyes landed on Taehyung again, sitting on a plush couch, his wine refilled and his naked submissive tucked safely against his chest.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck fuck fuck–
Scorching heat traveled up Yoongi’s neck, and his body started trembling a bit more against Namjoon’s thigh as he made eye contact with Taehyung. The man was… He was impossibly handsome, his sharp features deepened by the low lights of the lounge, and he looked entertained as he looked Yoongi up and down, a distinct smirk curving the side of his lips as he raised his glass for a sip. He was so clean, so removed from the mess of the scene on the other side of the large room, so different than Yoongi’s writhing, trembling and sobbing form.
“Ah, did our baby forget to speak?” Hoseok chuckled, and without waiting for an answer, he delivered a loud strike to Yoongi’s upper back, then another to his side.
Yoongi’s back arched painfully as his spine curved, and he almost fell forward before Namjoon caught him securely by the shoulders. The dominant crouched before him, pulling Yoongi in so he was half bent over now, burning face burying in the front of Namjoon’s shirt as his chest pressed to his thigh. “There, now,” he cooed, a sadistic thrill in his deep voice as his arms wrapped loosely around Yoongi’s upper body. “How many, Yoongi-ah?”
“N-Nine,” Yoongi sobbed, his bare body trembling in the larger man’s arms. His whole mind was nothing but a fuzzy blur, his nervous system fried from the endorphins and adrenaline. “Eight and nine, s-sir, please…”
“One more,” Hoseok demanded, icy and completely unbothered. “I know you can take it, slut, don’t act like you’re not leaking onto the carpet. One more– Make it count.”
Yoongi shuddered and braced himself for the last blow. It was true– He was leaking precum onto his inner thigh and probably onto the carpet. An ungodly amount of it. He sniffled as Namjoon stroked his nape, fingers tangling in the long black strands, grounding him just enough to not entirely drop.
The last strike was arguably harder than the two he took with his throat full.
The crop cleanly landed on his left ass cheek, the impact of it making Yoongi’s vision go dark for a terrifying millisecond. He thrashed, violently and involuntarily, and his raw, sensitive throat ached as he cried out, toes curling and his fingers digging so deeply into his palms that he distantly wondered if it would leave scars.
Namjoon held him through it, his strong body warm and steady against the submissive’s uncontrollable shuddering. He stroked his hair, fingers lingering and comforting, before he spoke, low and clear: “Count, baby.”
“Ten–! Ten, sir. Ten…” Yoongi’s chest heaved, lungs burning up as his body finally settled slightly, the low static in his mind still strong, and he realised, surprisingly, that he felt so light.
Despite his aching muscles and the ruined state he was in, he felt… light and soft, a comforting cloud lingering in his mind. He drunkenly whined as he sniffled, blinking his unfocused eyes, soaking Namjoon’s shirt with tears and spit and cum.
They let him catch his breath, take a small break after the intensity of the impact play, and once he had collected himself a little, Namjoon guided him back up to settle on his knees. His strong hands stayed on Yoongi’s shoulders, grounding and warm as he leaned in to come face to face with him. “Doll,” he said, his low voice so stable and direct and somehow so fucking attractive. “Look at me.”
Yoongi did. He focused his gaze on his dominant, blinking rapidly still. “Namjoon-ah,” he croaked, nodding a little to signal he understood.
“What color are you?” Hoseok asked, then. He entered his field of vision again, crouching next to his partner to study Yoongi’s face. “Tell us, darling.”
“Green.” Yoongi didn’t even have to think about it– Whatever was happening to his nervous system, he was loving it, and he felt so fucking good with the cocktail of hormones flooding his system. “’m green, sir,” he repeated, a bit more clearly as he nodded firmly. “Please, wanna keep going.”
Hoseok and Namjoon looked at him, at his ruined face, his lightly shivering body. Hoseok smiled, then, reaching out to wipe his cheek with his thumb. He swiped the pad of his finger across Yoongi’s hot, flushed skin, gathering drying tears and some of Namjoon’s cum, and he brought it to his mouth. Yoongi watched him, dazed as the dominant’s lips closed around the digit and sucked lightly.
“Good,” Hoseok said after he was done. He stood back up, tongue licking across his lips once before he exchanged a look with Namjoon. “Bring him down, my love. I wanna play with that pretty ass a little.”
Yoongi didn’t have much of a choice but to follow as Namjoon guided his upper body down, further and further until his chest pressed against the carpeted floor. The position was anything but comfortable, especially with his hands still tied behind his back, but he couldn’t even pay it attention because all the available space in his head was filled with thoughts of what they were going to do to him next. He grunted, cheek pressing into the rough texture of the carpet as Namjoon guided his hips up until his legs were almost vertical and the weight of his lower body concentrated on his stinging knees.
Through the intensity of the crop and getting his face fucked, the plug in his ass had faded into background noise, just like his audience had. The shift in position reminded him, though– With the movement of his limbs, the plug shifted in his hole, bluntly moving and pressing against his lube-slicked walls. Yoongi whined, feeling himself clench around the heavy steel shaft of the plug, too conscious of his body all of a sudden.
He was entirely on display like this, his ass presented high in the air like meat on a plate, and if he weren’t this deep in his subspace, he probably would have felt a flood of embarrassment and humiliation. Not now, though. Right now, he was just expectant. Just waiting, praying for them to just fuck him already.
Of course, though, Hoseok wouldn’t let him have it that easy.
Yoongi felt fingers grab the plug in his ass by the notch, shivering with a weak moan as his hips involuntarily bucked, legs twitching under his weight. His restlessness made Hoseok chuckle behind him, and he heard Namjoon getting up and walking away, toward…
Toward the table.
To get something new.
The plug, instead of being pulled out of his slicked and lubed-up hole as he expected, got pushed deeper into his ass right when he started wondering what Namjoon was picking up. The slick drag made Yoongi wince and whimper, his head going a bit light as the heavy steel of the plug dug deeper and poked at his walls. Hoseok didn’t seem to mind, though, as he slowly rubbed the plug sideways, making Yoongi’s hole clench uncomfortably around it. The new angle of the stretch stung a little, and a pathetic, choked-out sound escaped his wet, puffy lips. His chest was heaving against the carpet beneath him, the rough texture anything but comfortable against his sensitized skin.
“S-Sir, please…” he croaked, small and weak as Hoseok kept shallowly fucking the plug into his hole. His hands twitched, wrists burning from the friction of the rough jute, and everything felt so much, so fucking much that he almost felt as though he were levitating a little. “Please, please, please sir…”
“Mm? What is it, darling?” Hoseok asked, clearly feigning innocence. He pulled the plug back a little, until the widest part of it stretched around Yoongi’s rim, and then shoved it back in, as deep as it went. “What do you want?”
Yoongi helplessly moaned. His back arched against the stimulation he desperately needed more of. “I need–” he tried, immediately getting cut off by his own moan again before he took a small gasp of air. “Need you to fuck me, sir,” he managed when he tried again.
Saying it so directly would have made him want to be swallowed whole by the earth any other time, but he didn’t have it in him to care anymore. His usual pride was broken down enough; by this point, he’d fully accepted that this was what he was for, why he was here. His erection ached, hanging between his legs, angry and flushed and leaking as his thighs trembled with each small shiver that ran through him, and… Min Yoongi just wanted to get fucked until he was screaming. He didn’t care how much it hurt, didn’t give two fucks how uncomfortable his whole body was. He just needed it.
Hoseok only hummed, and Yoongi genuinely felt like he was about to start sobbing out of sheer frustration. Then, the plug shifted again, slowly dragging out of his slicked hole. Instead of pushing it back in, Hoseok finally took it out completely, causing a desperate whine to escape Yoongi before he replaced the heavy steel with two long fingers.
Yoongi let out a surprised yelp that turned into a low, long moan, hips twitching as Hoseok pressed deep into his hole. The dominant’s slender fingers were entirely firm and commanding, skillfully rubbing against his insides and making him melt under the pressure.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Hoseok said sweetly, amusement dripping from his tone as he curved the digits in Yoongi’s hole. His fingers pressed into the already stretched walls, dragging along them agonizingly slowly. “I’ll fuck you if you don’t cum while I’m fingering you. How does that sound, doll?”
Without waiting for an answer, he punctuated the question by pressing the pads of his fingers straight into the ridge of Yoongi’s prostate, finding the bundle of nerves as if he’d personally put them there.
Yoongi gasped, jaw going slack as his vision blurred with the sudden jolt of pleasure in the middle of the burning friction of his wrists and knees. Surprisingly, his legs didn’t give, but he thrashed so violently that Hoseok had to ground him by placing a palm on his lower back, firmly pressing down to stabilize his weak body with a dismissive click of his tongue. His fingers started moving in and out of the submissive’s hole with a steady pace, brushing his prostate each time.
For a few seconds, Yoongi couldn’t make a sound, his breath frozen in his throat. But as the pleasure mounted, he finally let out a wail that drained all the air from his lungs– It was loud, probably the loudest he’d been all session, and it dragged while his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his back arched.
The cocktail of hormones tipped into something that made him lightheaded and euphoric, sending him tumbling down into a deep pit of pure bliss. This was the first contact that directly pleasured him all night, and it cut through his physical discomfort so sharply that his focus narrowed down until only Hoseok’s skilled fingers remained.
Then, it was broken again.
Namjoon didn’t announce he’d come back. Yoongi only realised he was there when his unfocused eyes registered his shadow crouching next to him, a familiar buzz sounding before the submissive could make out that he was holding the violet wand in his hand.
A sharp shock of electricity jumped from the wand to his skin, and Yoongi jolted, the sensation landing as a painful tingle on his shoulder blade.
During the meetings leading up to tonight, they’d tried different intensities on him to see what his tolerance for electroplay was, and it had seemed that even lower settings elicited pained hisses from Yoongi, whose skin was naturally highly sensitive.
Now, though, the sound he made wasn’t pained at all– It was a small giggle, choked and completely delirious as his body absorbed the shock.
It came as a surprise even to himself, how it didn’t hurt as much as it tickled his overheated, sensitized skin. He gasped as his laughter died down and Hoseok picked up the pace of his fingers inside him with an amused hum. Yoongi could almost see him exchange a look with Namjoon.
“Oh,” Namjoon murmured, his smile audible through his deep voice. “You like that, baby? Like getting shocked with fingers up your whore ass?”
“An insatiable pain slut,” Hoseok agreed, shoving his fingers deep inside, stretching his slick walls further. “You’re loving it, huh? Think you can take it all without cumming, baby?”
Yoongi couldn’t respond, his body locked up and drool slipping onto the carpet under his parted lips as he took shallow, labored breaths. He managed a whine that didn’t exactly communicate anything, feeling way too close to the edge already.
“Ah, he’s gone dumb on us, Seok-ah,” Namjoon observed, and another buzz sounded as the wand shot electricity to Yoongi’s upper thigh now, making him shudder and whine before letting out a manic, huffed laugh. “Look at him, drooling like a bitch in heat. Such a pretty mess.”
Hoseok’s movements stilled for a second before he added a third finger and continued to fingerfuck the submissive. The pace slowed back down to a crawl now, torturous and completely overwhelming to Yoongi’s already overly stimulated mind.
Yoongi’s hips twitched, trying to get more of the friction while the dominant’s free hand held him down. He whined when he realised he was crying again; his tears were steadily falling as his painfully erect cock twitched. The pleasure was hot and heavy in his stomach, and it was building so slowly that he wanted to scream, to tell Hoseok to be faster, be meaner.
“S-Sir,” he whimpered forcefully, head heavy and breathing restricted from the sheer discomfort of his position. “Sir, wanna be good… Please, sir.”
“Namjoon-ah, dial it up a little,” Hoseok murmured behind him, not addressing the pleading, shaking submissive in his hold just yet. “Let me see how he takes it.”
He’s testing me, Yoongi thought, disoriented. He braced himself, body tensing up as he heard a familiar click, and his mind, slipping from him with pure haze, tried to weakly prepare itself for a bigger shock. “Sir,” he pleaded again, a clipped and ruined sound between his ragged breaths.
The shock was to the back of his thigh this time, the impact of it magnified by the combination of the higher voltage and the sheer sensitivity of the trembling skin there. Yoongi yelped, caught off-guard by the sheer and sudden intensity of the feeling. A tremor passed through him, and the shock degraded into little, ticklish stings soon, making his breathless whining turn into a fit of giggles again.
“Oh, I think you like this more than we thought you would, doll,” Hoseok cooed behind him.
Without warning, the three fingers in him picked up the pace again. Hoseok cruelly targeted his prostate, pressing onto it insistently and roughly with each stroke of his digits.
Yoongi had had his prostate massaged before. The numbingly intense pleasure that coiled tightly in his whole abdomen wasn’t entirely foreign to him, yet it felt so different simultaneously. His mind was blank and packed to the brim at the same time, going a mile a minute as he tried to manage his arousal on shaky knees that were threatening to give out from under him.
Hoseok’s fingers moved with such deliberate intent that Yoongi was convinced he was trying to make him lose his mind. The waves of pleasure washed over him continuously, without any breaks. His breath hitched as he whined and whimpered and wept, so far gone, and…
Too much. Too much, toomuchtoomuch– Yoongi’s mind raced, and he moaned as the electricity struck him again on his back, forcing out another gasp and a broken, low exclamation. He moaned with his brows furrowing, trying so hard to manage himself and completely failing because he was so fucking weak.
“’m gonna break,” he murmured mindlessly, his heavy erection twitching between his legs. He cried out, and a sob ripped out of him as he repeated, “Gonna b-break, please, ‘s so much, please sir I’ll-”
He was about to come undone; he could feel it coming; the heat coiled in his stomach was slowly unraveling, about to tip. His breath hitched and caught in his throat, his jaw going slack as his hole clenched around Hoseok’s fingers, trying to suck them in, and it was so good, so dizzyingly good, and Yoongi was almost there–
The pressure disappeared completely.
Hoseok pulled his fingers out with a wet sound that rang distant in Yoongi’s ears, causing him to thrash and whimper out of pure frustration. Yoongi’s cheek hurt from where it was crushed against the carpet, and he made a small sound of absolute defeat, kicking his legs a little. “N-No,” he croaked as the beautifully overwhelming pleasure thinned, devastatingly quick to dissipate. “No, please, sir, please–”
“You want me to fuck you, or no, baby?” Hoseok asked, amused. His palms caressed the submissive’s thighs, then his ass cheeks, firmly traveling across the sensitized skin. “I thought we made a deal here. Don’t you wanna cum on my cock?”
“I do!” Yoongi sobbed, still trembling as his orgasm, which was so close until mere seconds ago, faded away. “I do, sir, please I need it so bad, please… It hurts…”
Namjoon chuckled somewhere above him, and Yoongi couldn’t even bring himself to notice how wrecked his pleading sounded, how amusing it must be to them. He felt strong hands around his bound wrists, the grip of the rough fibers on his skin loosening.
“Oh, so small for us,” Namjoon marveled. Yoongi felt a warm palm splaying across his lower back, a gentle and grounding contact. “You want sir’s cock in you, baby? Think you can take it?”
The rope was completely pulled away as he spoke, and Yoongi hazily sighed, trying to nod. His arms fell to his sides, useless and heavy and aching from the burn the jute had left behind. “Please,” he mumbled, and his world tilted as he was propped up by Namjoon’s strong hands. “Please, ‘m good. Please fuck me, need it in me, please.”
Namjoon cooed, hugging the submissive into his chest before guiding him up to his feet. Yoongi didn’t look where the hell he was being taken; his heavy and bloodshot eyes were fixed on Namjoon’s strong jawline.
The younger practically carried his body before lifting Yoongi up and sitting him down on something cool that shocked his heated skin, making him gasp as he clutched at Namjoon’s shirt. It was a leather bench, Yoongi realised after a split second.
“Hey, you’re doing so good, doll,” Namjoon murmured, gently laying him down.
Yoongi winced as his overheated back made contact with the cool leather, a helpless whine ripping from him despite his efforts to muffle it by biting his swollen lips. He felt Namjoon’s hands gently brushing his hair back, away from his sweaty forehead.
“You took it all so well for us,” Namjoon continued, a warm register meant only for the two of them. He cupped Yoongi’s cheek with one hand, his thumb swiping under his eye once. “Such a strong, beautiful baby. Sir is gonna fuck you so good, Yoongi-ah. I’ll be right here with you, yeah?”
Managing a weak nod, Yoongi looked up at him from where he was lying. Namjoon looked so handsome leaning over him, and his words were so warm and reassuring that Yoongi couldn’t imagine not trusting him.
“Please,” he mumbled dumbly, nodding again.
He found Namjoon’s wrist, weakly trying to press the dominant’s palm more firmly into his burning cheek. He wanted to be good, he did, but he was past the point of even attempting to control his need swelling almost painfully in his belly.
Namjoon cooed and leaned in to press a gentle kiss on his forehead. It was a firm, gentle contact that made Yoongi’s muscles involuntarily relax against the leather bench.
“You’re so pretty like this, baby,” he heard Hoseok say.
The distinct sound of him working himself with lube reached the submissive’s ears, urging a small whine out of him. Hoseok was prepping himself for him, just outside Yoongi’s sight, and the thought made the submissive’s heart flutter in his chest. He parted his legs, and after a moment he felt Hoseok grip his thighs.
Meanwhile, Namjoon retreated just slightly, his thumb caressing his cheek once more before his hand eased away. “Wanna try the nipple clamps, doll?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Yoongi said, eyes going wide.
He would maybe say something else, but he was tugged downward by Hoseok’s firm hands, his body moving until his ass hung just at the edge of the bench. Yoongi gasped but didn’t protest as he was manhandled– Hoseok pushed his thighs toward his chest, practically folding him in half, putting his thoroughly loosened hole on full display against the lounge’s cool air.
The position put Yoongi’s bruised and used-up body on full display, and the backs of his thighs stung slightly from the stretch, but all he could feel was an overwhelming excitement. His pulse spiking back into an uneven and chaotic rhythm, Yoongi whimpered with his lower lip caught between his teeth, blinking his eyes expectantly.
“Keep these legs right here, baby,” Hoseok said, nodding appreciatively when Yoongi hooked his hands behind his knees. “Yes, just like that, good boy. So eager for my cock, mm? You’ve been such a good little whore for us, haven’t you?”
“Y-Yes, sir,” Yoongi managed, pulling his legs a bit more toward his chest.
Hoseok’s slicked-up erection slapped once against his hole, and Yoongi gasped, sure that he was flushing even deeper now. He wanted to push his hips down, to try and show Hoseok that he could take it, he wanted it, but his impossible need to be good urged him to stay right where he was.
“Say it for me,” Hoseok cooed, rubbing the head of his cock against Yoongi’s entrance. “Tell me you’re our good little whore.”
“I’m your… Sir–!” Yoongi’s breath caught, and he moaned brokenly, cut off by the blunt crown of Hoseok’s dick finally sliding past his rim.
The stretch was delicious, easy with the prep Hoseok had done and the lube slicking everything up. Yoongi’s toes curled, and he gave up on straining his neck to look at the younger, instead letting his head drop onto the bench. “I’m your good little whore, sir,” he choked out finally, brows furrowed as Hoseok heavily, slowly slid deeper into him. His dick was curved, Yoongi realised, shivering out of pure excitement because fuck his prostate was about to be milked– “I’m your whore, sir, thank you, thank you.”
Hoseok just grunted in response, finally bottoming out, his dick stretching and rubbing everywhere at once. He wasn’t as big as Namjoon felt in his mouth, but fuck, that curve felt like it would make Yoongi lose the last shred of his sanity– His dick was resting right against the bump of Yoongi’s prostate as he stilled, and it was maddening in the most delicious way, pushing everything away to the side.
Namjoon came back somewhere in the middle of the intrusion, and Yoongi couldn’t quite make out that he was holding a pair of nipple clamps connected with a thin chain until he felt his hand on his chin.
“Open up, baby,” Namjoon cooed.
It was a direct and plain instruction, but through the sheer pain-pleasure of finally having a dick inside him, Yoongi almost didn’t understand it. His mouth parted automatically, before his sluggish mind could catch up.
Namjoon fed him the middle of the chain, neatly tucking the metal links between his lips before he murmured a gentle “Bite on it.”
Yoongi did. His teeth clamped down on the chain with a soft clank, and he moaned around it when he felt Hoseok move slowly inside him, his cock slowly sliding against his sensitive walls.
Namjoon’s fingers toyed with his right nipple as Hoseok started shallowly fucking into him, and Yoongi was convinced he was losing his mind. Namjoon flicked the sensitive bud and squeezed it between the pads of his fingers before he put the first clamp into place, eliciting a choked hiss, slightly muffled by the chain between the submissive’s teeth.
“There you go,” Hoseok groaned appreciatively. His hands were roaming the back of Yoongi’s folded thighs, and he pressed him down a bit more, pinning him in place as he adjusted his angle slightly. “Look at you, baby, you take it so well. Made to take cock.”
Once the second clamp was in place, too, Yoongi blinked up at Namjoon with a low moan. The clamps caused a localized, stinging pain, and they really shouldn’t have been somehow pleasant but Yoongi’s brain was fried and his body couldn’t quite make the distinction between discomfort and pleasure anymore. He didn’t know what to focus on, and he wanted to scream a little– His ass was stuffed with cock, and his thighs ached from the position, and now his nipples, and…
“Mmph, my godh–!” he moaned, losing his focus again because Hoseok hit his prostate dead on with a sharp thrust. Yoongi threw his head back a little, neck straining and the chain between his teeth going taut, yanking at his clamped nipples. It made him yelp, a shudder taking over his whole body as his head snapped back down, fresh tears glazing his eyes. He desperately tightened his grip behind his knees.
Namjoon was right beside him, just as he’d promised. He stroked Yoongi’s dark locks away from his face as he watched his partner ram into the submissive, his dark eyes focused. “Feels good, huh, baby?” he asked, and Yoongi could only weakly nod. “What do you say, mm?”
“T-Thank you, sir,” Yoongi whimpered. He could feel his saliva pooling in his mouth, and he uselessly swallowed around the metal links. “Thank you, ‘s so… f-feels s’good, sir, thank you.”
“Such a good slut,” Hoseok muttered in response, slowly picking up the pace. “Been so patient, so good for us.”
The praise left Yoongi feeling lightheaded, but it could just be the fact that he was being stuffed full after having begged for it so long. His eyes rolled back, choked whimpers and moans escaping his wet lips as Hoseok kept straight at it, pistoning his cock into him with intensity that grew increasingly aggressive, almost bruising.
Yoongi wasn’t quite sure how he managed to keep the chain between his teeth. His jaw ached a little with the effort, and he wanted to open wide and scream and just let the damned chain drop, but he didn’t. He couldn’t, not with how badly he needed to behave for them. To stay good.
Weirdly, he felt so strong. Yes, he was teary-eyed and his limbs were limp and aching, and his mind was fractured and hazy, but fuck if it wasn’t thrilling. He was still following– He’d never felt this much in his body before, never been so strongly grounded in his flesh, and it was so intensely liberating that he wanted to laugh a little.
“So fucking tight, shit,” Hoseok breathed, and one of his hands left Yoongi’s thigh to ghost over his neglected erection. Yoongi gasped, breathlessly whining as his belly tensed expectantly, but the dominant just hummed, and his hand shifted to press on Yoongi’s lower abdomen without making contact with his weeping cock. “Pull on that chain, doll,” he went on as his palm pressed down, making Yoongi jolt with the sudden push toward his bladder. “Pull it nice and tight for me, yeah? Make it hurt.”
Yoongi didn’t think; he was completely unable to through the dizzying fuzz he was so impossibly deep in. He just huffed out a whimper and obeyed, neck straining as he tilted his head back. A uncharacteristically high moan escaped straight from his throat when the chain pulled on the clamps, sending a flash of pain through his skin that made his vision darken. “Nngh–” he whined, his tears finally falling again, running down his temples and mixing with the sweat on his temples.Hoseok moaned, Yoongi’s walls constricting around his dick making his hips stutter momentarily before he pressed down the submissive’s stomach a bit more. He began hammering Yoongi’s prostate mercilessly, making him writhe and tremble with each thrust.
“Fuck, yes, just like that. So eager, huh?” Hoseok sounded breathier now; his brows were furrowed slightly as he used Yoongi’s hole as if it were a fleshlight. “Look at you leaking everywhere– Our messy fucking whore, so pretty when you’re falling apart for us.”
“Stay just like that, baby,” Namjoon cooed, his tone soft, ringing in Yoongi’s wet temples, “good boy. How does it feel, mm? You like how it hurts?”
Yoongi could only nod slightly, the movement causing the pain from the clamps to spike. It made him moan again, bloodshot eyes focused on Namjoon, wide and pleading. His body rocked slightly with each thrust that hit his abused prostate, and he could feel the steady pressure of his orgasm mounting again, coiling tightly in his belly, right under Hoseok’s palm.
“I’ll…” he slurred, wet and choked around the chain. “Ph-Please, N’mjoon-ah, s'good–”
“Aw, gonna cum, baby?” Namjoon cooed, leaning in close, his breath fanning Yoongi’s ear. “Gonna cum on sir’s dick, are you?”
Yoongi whined, a small, broken sound of confirmation. “M– Mmh– May I…” he tried, desperately forcing himself to use his words, but he couldn’t go on. He sobbed instead, his whole body jolting. His hands felt slippery behind his knees now, wet with his own sweat.
“Ah, I don’t know, sweetheart,” Hoseok mocked, slowing the movement of his hips, although he kept each stroke heavy and deep and completely overwhelming. He looked down at Yoongi’s trembling thighs, at his ruined face, the deep flush that colored his face and chest. “Beg for it, and maybe –fuck– maybe I’ll think about it, yeah?”
“Please,” Yoongi said, his voice surprisingly clear despite still being muffled by the metal links. He sobbed again; the sharp pain in his nipples, the pressure on his belly and the hammering of his prostate was too much at once. “Please, ‘m your d-dirty whore, sir, please may I please cum?”
The sheer desperation in his voice seemingly triggered something in Hoseok, who finally removed the heavy pressure on his abdomen and grabbed his waist instead, pulling Yoongi in for each thrust, picking the pace back up. His movements turned almost violent, and he grunted as he held his submissive down.
Yoongi’s vision swam with tears as he helplessly moaned. His whole body felt as though it would crumble, would tear apart at the seams. He was so close he could taste it, and he just needed one word from them, a single syllable and he’d fall apart–
Namjoon’s hand cupped his wet cheek again before his thumb slid to the corner of his lips and hooked under the chain. “Let me hold this for you, baby,” he said, and Yoongi’s mouth finally fell open to let the dominant hold the spit-slicked links, his head falling back onto the bench with a soft thud that was absorbed by the leather.
Now with his mouth finally unoccupied, he could moan freely– His jaw went slack, head mindlessly lolling to the side as he shuddered and wailed, and he only got louder once Namjoon pulled on the chain. It wasn’t exactly harsh, but it was so specific in its intensity, the biting pain in his nipples exactly on the verge of being too much, and Yoongi screamed, thrashing as his limbs jolted uncontrollably. “Please–!” he whimpered, helplessly trying to hold himself back, but fuck it was getting so difficult, he could feel his erection twitch from where it rested against his belly.
“So fucking pretty,” Namjoon marveled. He had a small smile on his lips now, and he pulled the chain just a little more, humming when Yoongi gasped. “I think he deserves it, Seok-ah, no? Been such a good whore for us, look at him crying so beautifully.”
Hoseok breathlessly moaned, the snaps of his hips not slowing down even a fraction as his grip on Yoongi’s waist tightened. “Cum for us, slut,” he commanded, voice breathy and low as he chased his own orgasm. “Let me see what you are– Cum on this fucking cock, baby.”
It was all Yoongi needed to finally break. The words hit him like a physical blow, and his back arched off the bench slightly as his eyes rolled, a completely unhinged scream ripping its way out as he writhed with his fingernails digging into the skin behind his knees. “Thank you, sir,” he choked, “thank you, thank– Mmph–”
With that, his whole body locked, jaw limply hanging open as his head jolted backward. An involuntary, violent shudder took over him as he spilled, and Hoseok was still milking his prostate with that delicious curve of his dick, decisively driving him over the edge, the stimulation too fucking much for Yoongi’s spinning head. He whimpered when Hoseok bottomed out, his dick burying so deep inside that Yoongi’s vision blanked as he was filled with the dominant’s release. He realised he’d let go of his knees when he felt hands supporting his legs by the thighs, and he gasped in a lungful of air, chest heaving as he lay there, completely undone.
Something seemed to shift in his perception– Not too dramatically, and he didn’t even realise it initially, but everything felt as though it were being filtered through thick, stained glass. His eyes were still open, heavy lashes matted with tears as he blinked absently, and…
Someone grabbed him gently by the shoulders, and Yoongi realised the stinging of the clamps was gone, as well as the pressure of Hoseok’s heavy erection against his prostate. He was lying on the bench now, shivering slightly, and a hand slid behind his neck as he was gently propped up and pulled into an embrace. He sniffled, still disoriented, but he gratefully leaned into the touch. He could smell musk and citrus, a familiar and warm feeling filling his chest as he closed his heavy eyes.
He was still crying softly when someone gently kissed the top of his head. The strong arms wrapped around him tightened, and Yoongi’s ears were still ringing, but he exhaled with a small sob. He wasn’t sad, exactly; it was more like release, a sort of bone-deep catharsis that was taking over him after his climax.
“Baby,” someone said– It was Namjoon, his low voice cutting through the static gently. Yoongi whimpered in response, burying his face into his chest, and he got another small, lingering kiss to his hair. “It’s okay, let it out, darling. Take all the time you need, mm?”
The change in register felt like a warm hug to Yoongi, who sniffled again as he managed a tiny nod, trying to hide himself in Namjoon’s chest. His hand found the younger man’s shirt, and he bunched the fabric up in his fist, holding onto him so tightly that it vaguely hurt his knuckles, but it wasn’t like he cared. He just needed more of the contact, desperately.
He wasn’t sure how long he stayed right there, his limp legs uselessly hanging from the bench, his head heavy and uncooperative against Namjoon’s chest. But Hoseok joined their little bubble after a while, and when Yoongi managed to open his eyes to look at him, he realised he was holding a water bottle with a straw in it.
“Hi there,” Hoseok murmured, the sadistic and cold edge completely evaporated from his tone, leaving behind an intensely warm and loving hum. He reached out with his free hand to stroke Yoongi’s wet cheek before he leaned in and kissed his forehead. “You did so well for us, hyung, we’re so proud of you.”
“We are,” Namjoon confirmed, stroking his hair gently. “Let us take care of you, mm? We need to get some water in you, baby; your throat must be all rough right now. C’mon, let us help you with it, yeah?”
Yoongi made a small sound as he parted his lips slightly, letting Hoseok bring the bottle closer before he clumsily caught the straw between his lips. He managed a small sip, which pleasantly shocked his raw throat back to life. He paused before he took a few more sips, each bigger than the last, and by the time he got back slightly to nuzzle back into Namjoon’s strong chest, he felt considerably better already, though he still didn’t feel like he could string together syllables to get a single word out. He was still too deeply disoriented, the lingering, echoing static in his mind too strong.
“There you go. Our strong boy.” Hoseok smiled, putting the bottle to the side and producing a damp washcloth from somewhere Yoongi couldn’t quite see. “I’m gonna clean you up a little, okay?”
Yoongi couldn’t answer, but he grunted in acknowledgement before Hoseok gently tilted his head up. The warm, damp cloth made contact with the flushed skin of his cheek, and it felt a bit cool and foreign. Yoongi would flinch if he weren’t so out of it, but with his head still heavy and his entire body limp, he just sat there, letting Hoseok gently wipe the dried tears and the lingering, sticky dried cum off his face.
As he was about to move down to his collarbones, Hoseok paused, his gaze zeroing in on Yoongi’s eyes. He looked at Namjoon, his brows furrowing slightly before he leaned in. “Baby?” he said, as if testing something. “Hyung?”
Yoongi could hear him, although somewhat distantly, and he only managed to absently hum as he slowly blinked, his eyes not quite focusing on the sharp lines of the younger’s face. Hoseok looked a bit like a pixelated version of himself, somehow further than he was.
“Namjoon-ah, he’s not tracking me,” Hoseok muttered, an unmistakably worried edge in his low voice as he put the washcloth aside to cup Yoongi’s face gently. “Hyung,” he tried again, his thumbs gently stroking Yoongi’s cheeks. “Baby, can you hear me? I need to know you’re in there, honey, please.”
Namjoon shifted slightly, one hand firmly keeping Yoongi tucked against his side as the other found his fist curled against his shirt. He gently unclasped Yoongi’s fingers from the fabric and wrapped his hand over his, squeezing lightly before asking, “Squeeze my hand, hyung, can you do that? Just a small little squeeze, yeah?”
Yoongi was mildly confused at their apparent panic, and he blinked again, still trying hard to focus on Hoseok’s features before his fingers twitched against Namjoon’s hand. He clumsily squeezed, hoping to ease some of their stress. His mouth parted to say something, but nothing but a small huff of air came out– His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, and his throat ached a little. He gave up after a second and gave Namjoon’s hand another squeeze instead, making a small sound as he did because the movement made him realise his wrist ached, too, the phantom friction of the jute still lingering as a warm sting. He didn’t look down, but he imagined his wrists were burned a little where the rope had rubbed roughly against the sensitive skin.
“Oh, thank god,” Namjoon exhaled, leaning in to press a lingering kiss on his temple. “You scared us there, darling. Seok-ah, he’s responsive.”
Even through his slightly blurry vision, Yoongi could see the relief that washed over Hoseok’s face with the confirmation. The younger let go of his face after stroking his cheeks just once more, and he nodded, chest visibly deflating. “You’re dropping hard, aren’t you, hyung?” he asked, and he almost sounded apologetic, which made Yoongi want to laugh a little because he felt so secure, so safe in their hands.
“’m…” he tried again, his voice rough and almost alien even to himself from the sheer amount of screaming he’d been doing up until a few minutes ago. He felt Namjoon’s fingers comb through his hair as he let his head loll against his chest again. “’m fine,” he croaked finally, a small smile tugging at his swollen lips. “Jus… floaty.”
Namjoon laughed a little, the rumbling in his chest vibrating straight against Yoongi’s cheek as he kissed the top of the elder’s head once more. Hoseok’s eyes crinkled with a delighted hum, too, and he grabbed the damp cloth again to resume cleaning him up.
“The bestest boy,” Hoseok praised softly, genuine adoration dripping from the words as he gently swiped the cloth against the sensitized skin of Yoongi’s chest. He wiped away the dried drool before moving down to his abdomen, extremely light-handed. “You’re so strong, you know that?”
There was no helping the small, breathless giggle that escaped Yoongi. He nodded weakly, his heavy eyes fluttering. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “Felt… mm, nice.”
“Yeah?” Namjoon asked, and Yoongi didn’t have the energy to tilt his head and look up at him, but he could hear the small, undone smile on his face. “Felt so nice to see you trust us like that, too, hyung. You’re so good for us.”
Yoongi smiled drunkenly, still feeling himself settling back into his body– It was happening a bit faster now, with each gentle contact of the washcloth feeling more grounding, and he realised he was cold. He wanted to say something about it, even opened his mouth, but before he managed a word out a sudden, violent tremor shook his entire frame against Namjoon. It was so suddenly strong that his teeth clanked against each other, and he furrowed his brows, blinking with confusion.
“Oh, sweet baby, it’s okay,” Hoseok cooed, finishing wiping his thighs before he got back. He crouched, and Yoongi heard the sound of a zipper being pulled. Oh, Yoongi recalled, they’d prepared a bag full of stuff for after the scene.Hoseok rummaged through it before getting back on his feet with an oversized hoodie, a pair of sweatpants, and a pair of boxer briefs in his hands. “It’s the adrenaline crash,” he went on gently. “We’ll get you in warm clothes and wrap you up in a blanket, okay, hyung?”
“Think you can stand for us, baby?” Namjoon asked, his warm hand pressing securely to Yoongi’s side. “I’ll hold you through it, you won’t fall. Just until we get you in some clothes, is that alright?”
It took Yoongi a painful few seconds to process the request, and he huffed out a small whine in response. His legs still felt a bit like jelly, and he was certain they wouldn’t be able to support his weight, but the thought of Namjoon helping him up was comforting. So he reluctantly nodded.
The task of dressing him seemed easy enough for the couple, who worked as if they’d been doing it forever. Namjoon firmly hoisted his body up, helping him off the bench and supporting almost all of Yoongi’s weight just as he’d promised. Hoseok, meanwhile, quickly put on the boxers and the sweatpants on him, his fingers mindful of his sensitive skin as he pulled the garments up his legs.
Yoongi realised his legs were bruised– His thighs, especially, had some dark welts blooming across the skin, and his knees were raw and reddish from having been on the rough carpet for so long. They hurt, too; just slightly now, but he thought they’d burn a bit more by the time his high completely wore off, which was only slightly disturbing since he knew Hoseok and Namjoon would be by his side.
Once the drawstrings of the soft sweatpants were tied around his waist, Namjoon gently sat him back down. Yoongi hissed as his ass settled on the bench again, but he couldn’t exactly complain with another shudder taking over his body, bone-deep and intense as his weak body shook. It made him grunt, pressing his teeth together to prevent them from clanking again.
“We’ll get you home in no time, honey,” Namjoon reassured, still holding him tightly against his chest as Hoseok gently pushed the wide collar of the hoodie through his head. “We’ll give you a warm bath and massage those legs and feed you a nice meal.”
Yoongi hummed, letting his arms be guided into the wide, long sleeves. He felt a bit like a baby unable to do anything for himself, but Namjoon had warned him about a drop, and Yoongi could tell they enjoyed taking care of him like this. Just as much as they enjoyed taking care of him by breaking down his ego during the scene.
This wasn’t even remotely similar to what he was used to before. For one, he’d never felt so physically weak after sex, and he sure as hell had never had anyone take care of him so thoroughly. His previous partners had cuddled him, sure, but they’d never dressed him up, never prepared a whole protocol for making sure he was okay. This was so intensely intimate and soft that he felt emotional as he watched Hoseok adjust the hem of the sweatshirt to ensure he was nicely bundled up.
“Does anything hurt where it shouldn’t, hyung?” Namjoon asked, rocking him ever so slightly, his heart steady against Yoongi’s back as he kissed his temple. “Do you need anything before we leave? We already got your stuff from the back, so don’t worry about them.”
Yoongi shook his head, a small and difficult movement, but he then paused for a second. His eyes flicked to the small table where Hoseok had left the water bottle he’d just drunk from. “Um. Water?” he said, voice small.
“Of course, baby,” Hoseok responded, immediately turning around to grab the bottle. He rested the blanket he’d just unfolded against his forearm as he moved closer again with the bottle extended toward the elder. “Here, I’ll hold it for you.”
Yoongi nodded before parting his lips and catching the straw between them, taking a fee greedy sips that felt entirely too good. When he was done, he raised his hand to wipe his own lips, but Namjoon beat him to it, his thumb already catching a stray drop that slid down toward his chin. Yoongi sighed and leaned into the contact contendedly, his half-raised hand falling back onto his lap.
They wrapped him in the fleece blanket Hoseok was holding next, and once he was securely cocooned in the soft fabric, with another small shiver that rocked his body, Yoongi felt…
He felt his aching eyes stinging.
Hoseok’s hand, which was currently brushing his hair back, paused. “Hyung?” he said, warm and caring but not really shocked. “What is it, darling?”
Yoongi couldn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked up in hopes that the tears would recede before he got to shed them, but it didn’t work. A stray tear rolled down his cheek, then another, and before he knew it he was silently crying again.
“’m sorry,” he mumbled as Hoseok tenderly wiped the warm tears with his thumbs. He felt Namjoon’s lips in his hair again, his breath warm against the elder’s scalp. “’m sorry,” Yoongi repeated, blinking his eyes. “I’m not sad, just… You’re so nice and I feel so safe, and… Was I really good?”
“Oh, baby.” Namjoon hugged him a little tighter, almost as if to protect him from something before he tucked his chin into Yoongi’s shoulder from behind, his cheek resting against his neck through the soft fabric of the hood. “You were the best. Our beautiful, brave boy– You were more than good, honey, you still are.”
“You let us hold you when you felt small, hyung,” Hoseok added, an overwhelmingly warm smile curving his lips as he nodded to punctuate his sentence. His eyes roamed over Yoongi’s face, so soft and full of possessive protectiveness that Yoongi’s heart ached a little. “You took it all so well, we couldn’t dream of better. You were so good, of course you were, okay? You didn’t do a single wrong tonight, you never could.”
Yoongi just weakly sniffled, and as Hoseok wiped his tears away with each new one that escaped his eyes, he let himself slacken just slightly. Some part of him that wanted to object was quieted down by the sheer, intense grounding of their contact and their words.
They stayed a little longer, until Yoongi’s tears stopped and they were replaced by Hoseok’s kisses on his cheeks. Once he felt a little better, Namjoon asked, “Ready to go, hyung?” and Yoongi had never heard of an offer more tempting, because he felt so tired now, so pleasantly sleepy in their hold.
Namjoon was the one to carry him, despite Yoongi trying to argue he could walk, which was technically true and yet completely unreasonable given the state of his body. The younger hooked one arm securely under his knees while the other hugged his torso and lifted him, holding him close against his chest, and well, maybe it wasn’t so bad to be carried after all. Yoongi felt his entire body relax against him, his head falling right in place, into the crook of Namjoon’s neck. Hoseok grabbed the bags and followed after them.
As they were leaving, Yoongi found out that the lounge was now empty, completely free of the small audience they had during the scene. People must have left silently at one point during the aftercare– The realisation of everything after the scene being private sat warm and happy in his chest.
They exited the lounge, entering the wide corridor that led to the elevators, and Yoongi’s eyes were closed until he heard footsteps that didn’t belong to either Namjoon or Hoseok. He hummed, effortfully opening his eyes to look, just to be met with Taehyung again. He still had his submissive with him, but the boy was now fully dressed in baggy jeans and a tank top that hugged his torso – in contrast to the formal wear of his dominant, but somehow also complementing him. He was pretty, Yoongi realised through his sluggish sleepiness. He had a tattoo sleeve, something Yoongi hadn’t quite paid attention to when he’d first seen him naked inside.
Taehyung greeted Hoseok and Namjoon with a small nod, and his eyes flicked to Yoongi, devoid of the cold indifference he wore inside the lounge now, almost warm and fond. He stayed back, maintaining some distance as his submissive carefully approached, his wide doe eyes fixed on Yoongi.
“Hello, hyung,” the boy said softly, careful not to overwhelm Yoongi’s heightened senses. He didn’t touch him, but his bright eyes scanned Yoongi’s bundled up frame with something akin to familiar affection. “I’m Jungkook. I know we haven’t meet before but you were so pretty up there– I wanted to tell you before you left.”
Yoongi felt something melt in him as he registered the praise, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips and a familiar warmth settling on his cheeks. He nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment, but as he let his head fall back to Namjoon’s shoulder he felt impossibly happy.
“Namjoonie hyung, Hoseokie hyung,” the boy, Jungkook, went on, his voice smooth and low in the corridor. “Make sure you give him some carbs, yeah? He’ll be a bit nauseous, so maybe put a big spoon of honey in a warm cup of tea, he’ll really need it.”
“Already looking out for him, huh, Kook-ah?” Hoseok asked with a fond smile. “Thanks, bun. We’re taking him straight home so we can give him a bath, he’s started to shiver already.”
As if on cue, Yoongi shuddered with a small whine in Namjoon’s arms, despite being incredibly warm in his clothes and the blanket wrapped around him. Namjoon held him securely through the short tremor, rubbing his nose against his air as he whispered a string of praises in his ear about how good he was, how well they were going to take care of him. It made Yoongi smile a bit wider, completely content as he sighed heavily and sunk even deeper into the younger’s arms.
“Oh, he’s dropping fast,” Jungkook observed softly, stepping to the side to let the three of them pass. “Also– Hyungs, weighted blankets really help, too. And massage his muscles so he doesn’t wake up sore and stiff tomorrow. Text me if you need anything, please.”
“You’re an angel, Jungkookie,” Namjoon said, nodding with a smile as he started walking toward the elevator again. “Thank you– We’ll reach out if something happens. Good night.”
“Good night,” Taehyung responded, his low baritone contrasting his partner’s higher pitch. He smiled at them as he pulled Jungkook to his side by the waist. “We’ll handle the cleanup here, just take him home and take care of him, alright? He’s been so good for you.”
Hoseok laughed, a happy and delighted sound that was music to Yoongi’s ears. “He really has,” he agreed, the sound of him pressing on the elevator’s button accompanying his fond tone.
As they left the building and got into the car, with Hoseok climbing onto the backseat with him to massage his temples and keep gushing over how good he’d done, Yoongi realised with sudden and sobering clarity that he was completely safe. He was going to get cleaned up, clothed in the silk pajama set Namjoon had specifically bought for him, and he was going to be taken good care of. His body would take a bit to recover, sure, but his mind hadn’t been so beautifully silent in so long and maybe –surely– coming across the couple was a blessing reserved for him.
He dozed off on the drive home, with Hoseok’s warm hands gently massaging his scalp, already focused on the task of coaxing the exhaustion out of his body.
Safe.