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give me your all (and nothing else)

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 / can’t keep my hands to myself 



It was hot outside.

It was barely spring time, but no one seemed to have told the weather this. Taehyung had lowered their apartment’s A/C past what their university technically allowed, but Jimin, not keen on feeling gross and sticky, had left it as is. One day wasn’t going to hurt anyone. And when summer time came, well, they could buy a floor fan or something.

When the front door opened, Jimin was nursing a glass of iced tea, which at that point, was more ice than tea. He turned, smiling at Yoongi’s familiar head of dark hair, eyes darting down to his pale arm curled around the motorcycle helmet as the door shut behind him.

“Hey,” Yoongi said, walking over to put the helmet down on the kitchen table before making his way over to Jimin sitting on the couch.

Jimin spit a cube of ice back into the glass and put it down on the coffee table. “Hi,” he said, reaching up and grasping the ends of Yoongi’s shirt. He tugged him down for a brief kiss, a faint trace of salt from the sweat on Yoongi’s upper lip transferring to his lips. Jimin scrunched up his nose as Yoongi hummed at the temperature difference of their mouths. His small, barely-there smile was present even as he pulled back with a dramatic groan, stretching his arm back behind him. Jimin eyed his short-sleeved T-shirt critically.

“Where’s your jacket?”

“Jimin, it’s like, 24 degrees outside.”

“If you fell you’d get skinned up so badly, Yoongi—”

“It’s too hot, baby,” Yoongi said with pout in his voice, glaring a little as he looked Jimin up and down, taking in the too-big T-shirt and boy shorts. “Clearly,” he added. “Is that my shirt?”

“Don’t try and change the subject,” Jimin grumbled, settling deeper into the cushions.

Yoongi grinned, leaning down and playing with the ends of Jimin’s shorts, which barely made it past the curve of his bottom.

“Yoongi,” Jimin said, trying not to giggle as he shifted out of reach. “Hey, how did last night go?”

Yoongi groaned again and tapped his right shoulder. “I think I pulled something.”

“Oh my God,” Jimin said, failing to hide his laughing scoff. “How does that even happen?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi grumbled. “It was in the middle of the set. Was moving around a lot. Didn’t really feel it till this morning, but my shoulder and back just—fuckin’ hurt.”

Jimin pointed at the floor in front of him. “Sit. I’ll massage it for you.”

Yoongi shrugged his uninjured shoulder but seemed pleased at the idea, settling down in between Jimin’s legs without another word, humming as his head lolled against Jimin’s bare thigh. His next words were quiet, rasping together. “Went okay, though. Crowd was so-so. Missed you.”

Jimin ran his fingers over the broad expanse of Yoongi’s shoulders, settling on the spot that Yoongi had indicated and gently pressing his thumbs in. “I would’ve done the assignment earlier this week if I’d known you were gonna have a gig.”

“Mm, your fault for procrastinating, isn’t it, sunflower?”

Jimin thwacked Yoongi across the back of his head. “Hyung! You’re the one who—” Jimin flushed, leaned forward so he could say the next part in Yoongi’s ear. “distracted me. And quit calling me that.”

Yoongi made a soft sound as Jimin dug his thumbs into the muscle of his shoulder. “Feels good, sunshine.”

Jimin huffed and in retaliation, pressed his lips against Yoongi’s ear. He could feel Yoongi’s muscles very briefly tense under his touch, but he relaxed almost immediately after.

Until Jimin’s tongue flicked up the shell of his ear.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi said, his voice a little rumbly. It made Jimin’s heart beat a little harder in his chest.

“Sh, hyung,” he said, kissing at his skin. “Relax.”

Yoongi exhaled slowly through his nose, his breath tickling Jimin’s thigh. Jimin licked his lips, tongue tracing a path on the skin just behind his ear, kind of enjoying the faint, salty taste. Yoongi didn’t make another noise, but did begin running his fingers back and forth over Jimin’s ankles, his touch soft and featherlight.

“Hoseok texted me you were fighting off some people,” Jimin said, peppering small, wet pecks in between his words and rolling his thumb into the knot around the top of Yoongi’s right shoulder.

“Fuck, babe,” Yoongi muttered, his fingers skittering across his ankles. “And also, fuck Hoseok.”

Jimin breathed out a laugh against his skin. “He said one girl and two guys offered to buy you a drink.”

“Because I am incredibly cool, obviously,” Yoongi said, his fingers skimming up the skin of Jimin’s calves now.

Jimin dragged his lips down over Yoongi’s neck, thought for a second, then pulled a sliver of skin in between his teeth and sucked.

Yoongi gasped, then softly groaned as Jimin continued to massage circles into his sore shoulder, all the while sucking a bruise into his neck.

“Possessive little brat, hm,” he mumbled, tracing more shapes onto his legs.

“Mm-mm,” Jimin hummed. “You just taste nice.”

Yoongi laughed, letting his head fall more fully against Jimin’s thigh, exposing his neck. “Go on, baby,” he said. “Mark me up.”

Jimin paused, lifting up a little and feeling a petty desire to take Yoongi down a peg.

Or at least get him moaning.

Jimin dug his thumb in hard and pressed against the knot as he lowered his mouth to the damp, pinkening patch on Yoongi’s pale neck. He sucked it into his mouth again, pinching the skin between his teeth and flicking his tongue over it. Jimin felt more than heard Yoongi swallow, held in his smile at the scrape of Yoongi’s nails on his legs.

Jimin pulled back just enough to glance at the mark already forming, stark and shining on Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi had such pretty skin. As he leaned back down to give more attention to Yoongi’s neck, Jimin felt his stomach lurch with the arousal at the thought of florid, dark bruises scattered across its pale surface, clearly visible for anyone who thought they might have a chance.


Yoongi made a soft, pleased sound as Jimin sucked harder, letting the saliva pool a little in his mouth and dragging it down across Yoongi’s neck as he began laving attention on a different spot.

“Th’feels good,” Yoongi said, his voice husky. “I—”

“Shut up,” Jimin breathed just before pulling a new patch of skin in between his teeth and applying pressure. Yoongi’s fingers squeezed around his legs as he moaned, his nose pressing hard against Jimin’s knee as he tried to tilt his head further one way, giving Jimin more access.

Jimin huffed against Yoongi’s skin, abruptly stopping in his massage to drape his arms around Yoongi’s front, one hand cradling Yoongi’s jaw, underneath his chin, fingers of his other hand pulling at the T-shirt’s collar to tickle at his collarbones. He nosed his way back up Yoongi’s neck, nipping the skin right below his jaw and felt his gut curl when Yoongi jerked in his arms. 

“Yoongi,” Jimin mumbled into his skin, his heart thumping wildly against his ribs as he gently continued to suckle on the skin just under Yoongi’s jaw, feeling a little drunk off the small pants shuddering past the older boy’s lips.

“Keep doing that, yeah,” Yoongi said, his words slurring together a little.

Jimin swallowed a moan of his own at the sound of Yoongi’s husky voice, focusing all his attention on the one spot of skin that had Yoongi tensing and squirming in his arms. He kept his grip on the older boy’s jaw firm, pressing his fingertips in a little harder as he held his chin up, kissing and nibbling the sensitive flesh, his breath puffing out warm against the dampened skin.

“You’re so—” Yoongi laughed shakily, breaking off when Jimin closed his lips around the circle of reddening flesh and sucked. “Cute,” Yoongi exhaled.

Jimin tsked against Yoongi’s skin, offended. Cute. As he was sucking hickeys into Yoongi’s neck, he was calling him cute.

Of course he was. 

Without speaking, Jimin shifted his grip on Yoongi’s jaw so that he could press his thumb against Yoongi’s lower lip, pushing and dragging at it until the digit was inside Yoongi’s mouth. He felt a sharp gust of breath wash over his knuckles before Yoongi was flicking his tongue over Jimin’s thumb, his body arching in his grip again when Jimin sucked on the first spot he had made, the flesh there already reddening. 

He felt Yoongi’s lips shift around his thumb, like he was about to speak, but Jimin didn’t give him the chance, moving on to the next flowering bruise and flattening his tongue against it. His own back was starting to ache a little, hunched over as he was, but it was easy to ignore when Yoongi was panting against his hand, his body fidgeting in Jimin’s grip as he sucked over the marks he had just made, darkening them even further.

“Jimin,” Yoongi gasped, the name coming out muffled around Jimin’s thumb. “Fuh—baby—”

“Shh,” Jimin hushed, nosing his way up Yoongi’s neck and kissing at the spot just under his jaw. He dragged his tongue across the blooming bruise, smiling against Yoongi’s skin when this pulled another low groan from him. Thumb still in his mouth, currently being licked and kissed at, Jimin tightened his grip on Yoongi and titled his head just a little further to the right so he could plant one final, suckling kiss to the skin.

Yoongi gasped when Jimin released him, taking care to drag his saliva-slick thumb over Yoongi’s chin as he pulled it back. He kissed the side of Yoongi’s head, gaze flickering over his neck, which was lined up with about four rapidly darkening bruises. Jimin’s favorite was the one just under Yoongi’s jaw, and he pressed his damp thumb to it with a small giggle. 

“How’s it look?” Yoongi said. The pitch of his voice was deep, incredibly deep, and Jimin suppressed a shiver.

He dragged his gaze up the side of Yoongi’s neck, fingers also following the smattering path of purple, pink, and red, livid against his pale skin.

“Pretty,” Jimin said.

Yoongi made a sound that was a weird, but also stupidly hot, cross between a hum and a growl, turning until he was facing Jimin and kneeling on the floor between his legs. “I think I should return the favor, yeah?”

Jimin pushed at his shoulders. “Hyung, no. Taehyung will go on and on about it for weeks, you know he will.”

Yoongi kissed the skin of his inner thigh. Jimin snapped his mouth shut.

“M’not gonna leave it in a place where Taehyung can see. Least not if you don’t wear these cute little shorts around anyone but me.”

Jimin blushed hot. “Oh my God.”

Yoongi looked up at him through his lashes and Jimin was struck dumb at how fucking beautiful he was. “And if you do, everyone’ll get to see exactly what’s mine, hm?”

“Hyung you’re so—” Jimin griped, wishing it was possible to swallow down a blush. “Oh my god,” he said again, feeling goosebumps sprout up on his skin when Yoongi smoothed his hands up his legs. “Now who’s the possessive one?”

“Just stating facts,” Yoongi said, his lips now brushing feather light over the inside of Jimin’s thighs. “Do you really not want me to?”

Jimin licked his lips and pressed them together. Yoongi looked up at him again, a knowing glint in his eyes. When Jimin didn’t say anything, Yoongi grinned against his thigh. “You gotta tell me, pumpkin.”

“I don’t not want you to,” Jimin muttered, feeling stubborn.

Yoongi didn’t seem bothered. He had wrapped his arms around the outside of Jimin’s legs, and his hands now curled over the tops of his thighs. He squeezed and, very gently, kissed Jimin’s inner thigh. “This okay?” he asked softly.

Jimin nodded jerkily, sinking further into the cushions.

Yoongi poked his tongue out and dragged it down his skin, towards Jimin’s knee, then moved back up again, coming dangerously close to the edge of Jimin’s shorts. “What about this?” Yoongi said, briefly snagging the cloth between his teeth before releasing and nosing his way back down again.

“Yes,” Jimin whispered, briefly trying to resist the urge to part his legs and let Yoongi do whatever the fuck he wanted.

He wasn’t sure exactly why he was resisting. It was probably this lack of resolve that had him yielding to Yoongi’s touch thirty seconds later when the older boy tugged on his legs and they fell open.


“Fuckin—yes, you know it’s okay, pl—”

Jimin broke off when Yoongi pressed a sloppy, open mouthed kiss near the upper part of his inner thigh, flattening his tongue over the spot once before he sunk his teeth into the meaty flesh and slowly began to suck, humming when Jimin arched his back against the couch and gasped out a moan.

“It—umm, ha—tickles—”

Yoongi chuckled against his skin, squeezing his legs once. “S’okay, pumpkin. Just relax, right?”

Jimin narrowed his eyes then squirmed when Yoongi’s attention went back to his thighs. His teeth were firm, his lips gentle, and before long Jimin found himself with his toes curled tightly against the floor and his back arching off the backrest as Yoongi’s mouth left bright red flowers scattered along the inside of Jimin’s legs. He whined into the air, his fingers twisting into Yoongi’s black locks.

“Sunshine,” Yoongi said his lips tickling Jimin’s inner knee as he sat back to look up at him. “Hands on mine.”

Jimin flushed, slowly dragging his hands out of Yoongi’s hair to settle and intertwine with Yoongi’s hands curled around his thigh. He felt exposed and flushed, the skin of his thighs prickling with the forming marks.

“Keep them here,” Yoongi said, kissing Jimin’s knuckles before pressing his mouth hotly against Jimin’s other leg, humming in pleasure when Jimin cried out. “Want you to think of me here all the time, Jimin.” Yoongi playfully nipped a little higher. “Think you’ll be able to feel it when you dance?”

“Shit,” Jimin gasped, hooking one bare foot over Yoongi’s back. “Ff—please.”

“You want that?”

“Yes, I said please,” Jimin snapped, voice cracking at the end when Yoongi’s sucked a large amount of skin in between his teeth.

“Brat,” Yoongi mumbled, shifting his mouth up and suckling again. “Mm, I—I’m in fucking love with your thighs.”

Jimin blamed the arousal fogging up his brain for his next words. “Just my thighs?”

He felt his heart shiver in his chest before it skipped a beat, and he blinked down at Yoongi who was no longer using his teeth, but softly pressing his lips around a small section of Jimin’s thigh. His gaze was directed up, right at Jimin’s face. Jimin swallowed, feeling the flush high in his cheeks.

It felt like minutes before Yoongi spoke, but it had to be only seconds. His dark eyes flitted across Jimin’s face, his blossom pink mouth still pressing kisses on Jimin’s skin.

“No,” he said, calm and soft. “Not just your thighs.”

Jimin’s lips parted, but Yoongi didn’t leave any time for him to feel obligated to respond, dipping his head down and sucking hard at his inner thigh, his lips so high up his leg they brushed the ends of his shorts.

“Mm, h-hyung,” Jimin whispered, feeling a pulsing shudder rock through his body. “Yoongi, l—oh my God.”

Yoongi was breathing heavily as he sucked and kissed, slipping his hand out from under Jimin’s to grip under his thighs and push up, Jimin’s flexibility allowing them to move easily under his touch without much strain. Yoongi knew, he knew Jimin’s body, knew exactly how to move him, touch him, kiss him. Jimin gasped into the air, small, relentless shivers pulsing through his body at the tingling stings on his skin, all hot little reminders of Yoongi’s mouth, on him, marking him.

“But,” Yoongi said in between sharp kisses. “I do fucking love your thighs.” He groaned against them, his fingertips pressing hard on their undersides, tilting his head back for a beat to just look at them, hitched up and spread apart. He leaned forward one more time, puckered his lips over a particularly large mark, dots of red already forming within the bright pink, then sat back on his heels and smiled down at his work.

“You’re right,” Yoongi murmured, his eyes glinting at Jimin’s breathless panting. “It is pretty.”

“Hyung,” Jimin breathed, and he was only whining a little. His cock was pushing against his shorts, and their thin material didn’t leave much to the imagination, Yoongi had to see that.

“Really pretty,” Yoongi said, grinning at Jimin. “You know what you should wear to the gig tomorrow night?”

“Mm, what?” Jimin said, resisting the urge to palm at his erection, sighing when Yoongi lowered his legs and began to run his fingers up and down the marked-up flesh.

“Those tight little jean shorts?”

Jimin tilted his head back and laughed up at the ceiling. “Wow. You’re nasty.”

“You don’t want everyone to see?” Yoongi teased, pushing himself up until he was straddling Jimin, his jeans fortunately worn and soft against Jimin’s bare legs. Jimin huffed at them though, pulling open the button and teasing with the zipper.

“Can’t you take these off?”

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“You’re asking me that now?” Jimin exclaimed, rolling his eyes at Yoongi’s shrug. “He’s with Jungkook. Take off your pants.”

“Wow,” Yoongi muttered, briefly standing to push down his pants and then climbing back into his lap. Jimin breathed out, his hands brushing up Yoongi’s bare legs. Yoongi might be older, and a little broader in the shoulders, but there was something leaner, almost more delicate than Jimin himself, who wasn’t exactly soft as a result of dancing nearly five days a week.

Yoongi fit nicely in his lap. It would be stupidly cute if Yoongi wasn’t such a domineering little tease. For example, in that moment, he had two long fingers down in between them, stroking at Jimin’s bruised thighs.

“Mm—hyung, st-stop.”

Yoongi laughed, pulling his fingers away and sliding them around Jimin’s neck. “Sensitive?”

Jimin wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist and rested his head on his chest. “I can’t wear my shorts to dance practice now.”

Yoongi ran his fingers through Jimin’s hair. “Sure you can.”

Jimin pursed his lips. “Jungkook and Hoseok are just as bad as Taehyung. No I can’t.”

Yoongi tilted his head to the side, elongating the side of his neck littered with color. “It’s not like I’m gonna go around wearing a turtleneck.”

“You’re a freak though,” Jimin said, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Yoongi grinned back, abruptly grabbing Jimin’s arms and twisting his body as he tugged, so as his back rucked up against the seat cushions Jimin fell over him with a choked off yelp, their bare legs twisting together.

Yoongi,” Jimin laughed, burying his face into Yoongi’s chest and pushing pointlessly at his arms as they wrapped around his shoulders. “Ugh, get off.”

“I think we need to get you off,” Yoongi said pleasantly, rolling his hips up almost playfully against Jimin’s. Jimin exhaled sharply against his chest, lifting his head to glare at him.

“You’re hard too,” Jimin pointed out, wiggling his hips a little.

Yoongi tapped his fingers against Jimin’s chin, a cheeky little smile on his face. “Am I? Hadn’t noticed.”

Jimin scooted up, pressing his fingers on Yoongi’s jaw and firmly applying pressure until Yoongi conceded, tilting his head to the side until all Jimin could see were the red and purple marks lining the pale skin. “Does it hurt?”

He didn’t need to look. He could hear the smile in Yoongi’s voice. “No, pumpkin.”

Jimin shifted up a little further, until his breath washed warm and hot over his neck. “Want me to give you more?”

He felt Yoongi’s reaction more than anything, the stuttering breath on his jaw, the way his hips ground up against Jimin’s, one leg hooking around Jimin’s calf, his hands gripping tight on his waist. 

Jimin bit his lip, licking at it once before releasing. Yoongi’s breathing was slightly unsteady, pushing out of his lungs in shaky little huffs.

Jimin couldn’t stop his teasing smile.  “You gotta tell me, Yoongi.”

His next exhale was sharp, and Jimin felt it break along his skin again, felt Yoongi push slightly against his small fingers, still firm on his jaw. It wasn’t enough to make him think he was actually trying, so Jimin pressed back, stroking his thumb softly along Yoongi’s chin to balance out the bruising pressure.

“You fuckin’ brat,” Yoongi breathed, pushing his hands up under his T-shirt, hands big and warm on the small of Jimin’s back.

Jimin hummed, nosing along his neck, occasionally flicking his tongue over the skin and smiling when he felt Yoongi twitch under him. God he was so—fuckin’ perfect.

“Tell me,” Jimin said, his voice surprisingly steady. He used his other hand, the one not cupped around Yoongi’s jaw, to reach down and grasp at one of Yoongi’s legs, hitching it up so it was wrapped properly around his waist. Yoongi made a small, throaty noise, jerking in Jimin’s grip again. “C’mon, hyung. You gotta tell me.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi muttered, and then one palm was off his back and his fingers were wrapping tight around Jimin’s wrist. He pulled Jimin’s hand away from his jaw and tugged so it sunk deep into the cushion by Yoongi’s head. The motion brought Jimin’s lips close to his neck, so close he could taste salt when he licked his lips again.

“Do it,” Yoongi said, voice coming out low and gruff, his fingers still wrapped tight around Jimin’s wrist, who tightened his own grip on Yoongi’s leg in response. “C’mon baby, I want more.”

Jimin might have said shit or fuck or a muffled combination of the two. Whatever it was made Yoongi chuckle, the sound breaking off into a small little exhale when Jimin closed his lips around a bare patch of skin and sucked, pulling Yoongi’s leg tighter against him. Yoongi’s fingers around his wrist slackened and Jimin took advantage of this, pulling out of his grip and sliding his fingers against the couch cushion until he was able to cup the back of Yoongi’s head, threading through black strands and holding him there as he shifted his head to another bare spot on his neck.

“You’re gonna,” Jimin said in between kisses, “have a line—” another bite “—of these pretty bruises—” he blew on the skin, swallowing hard when Yoongi hissed under him, his other leg coming to hitch around Jimin’s waist. “—all down your neck.”

“Fuck, yes,” Yoongi groaned. He tilted his head back against Jimin’s hand, and Jimin couldn’t resist nosing into the black silk of Yoongi’s hair, right at the base of his neck. He felt a little dizzy at the softness of it, at the faint trace of pine from his shampoo lingering in the strands.

Jimin huffed against his neck, fingers digging hard into Yoongi’s thigh before jerking up the skin and tugging at the cotton of his boxers, roughly enough that Yoongi grunted, but lifted his hips without a word until they were rucked down past the round little curve of his ass.

Fuck, fuck, Jimin just—

“You want to—” Jimin moaned into Yoongi’s neck, overcome with a suffocating urge to just be close. “I wanna—”

Yoongi shifted his head, forcing Jimin to pull back from his neck, and then he was being kissed.

Jimin’s reaction was immediate, pressing hard against him, their mouths opening against each other as Jimin squeezed the flesh of his butt, abruptly giggling and grinning against Yoongi’s lips as he gasped out, “Cute, fuck, it’s cute.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Yoongi mumbled against his jaw. He leaned back, corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. “What—mm—were you saying?” He pecked Jimin’s mouth. “You wanna...?”

Jimin’s cheeks went pink. “I wan—” he swallowed, his mouth sensitive under Yoongi’s. “I want to fuck you.”

A small silence, then Yoongi hummed. “Sounds nice.”

Jimin flushed deeper. “Nice?”

Yoongi grinned. “Don’t pout. Nice is a good word.” He cupped Jimin’s face, thumbs rubbing soft circles into his pink cheeks. “For example, this is nice,” he said. Slowly, he trailed his finger down his back, tickling his sides and abdominal muscles. “Also nice,” he hummed, and then his hands were on Jimin’s ass, nearly completely exposed because of how far his already short shorts had ridden up. Yoongi gave the round flesh a solid pat. “Really nice,” he finished.

Jimin dropped his head onto Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi’s arm pulled back to curl around his waist but Jimin was still clutching him close, small hands splayed out on his butt. He breathed in and out once, feeling hot, and unable to blame the weather. “Okay,” he mumbled into Yoongi’s shirt before lifting his head again.

Yoongi was smiling at him, borderline smirking. Jimin scoffed, digging his grip into Yoongi’s ass and echoing Yoongi’s expression at the small gasping sound the older boy made.

Jimin paused, then made a small sound of frustration that had Yoongi blinking.


“We need lube.”

Yoongi pursed his lips. “You trying to tell me that Taehyung’s nasty ass doesn’t keep a bottle in the couch cushions somewhere?” He actually made to start digging through them.

Jimin ripped a hand off Yoongi’s butt to smack at his shoulder. “Hyung, gross, I’m not using Taehyung’s lube!”

“Why not, you’ve sucked his—”



Jimin shoved himself off of him. “Stay there. I’ll grab mine. I got a new one.”

Yoongi looked wary. “Jimin-ah…”

“Shut up, it’s not like you have to eat it,” Jimin said over his shoulder. He hurried into his room before Yoongi could respond, swiping the new bottle, still in its plastic bag, from the desk. When he got back to the living room, Yoongi had pushed his boxers off all the way and was in the middle of tugging his shirt over his head. With all his clothes gone, the marks on his neck stood out in a major way, a nearly unbroken line of red and purple that had Jimin swallowing hard.

Yoongi glanced up at him, gesturing wordlessly at Jimin’s clothes. Jimin dropped the lube at the other end of the couch before going to take off his shirt. When his arms were tangled halfway through the sleeves, Yoongi lunged for the lube, ignoring Jimin’s weak protest and narrowing his eyes down at the bottle.

He looked up at Jimin. Jimin dropped his T-shirt on the ground and crossed his arms. “What? You’re not tasting it.”

“You think I want my asshole smelling like—” Yoongi looked down at the bottle again. “Raspberry pomegranate?”

Jimin snatched it away. “I don’t remember you complaining about the watermelon one when my tongue was up your ass.” He fumbled with the bottle until it was open and he was able to drizzle the liquid over his fingers. “Lay back.”

Yoongi grinned and did as Jimin asked, but not without comment. “I like when you get feisty, pumpkin spice.”

Jimin wanted to glare, but it was hard to fight off his smile as he joined him on the couch, letting Yoongi pull him close so they could kiss. Yoongi leaned back until he was lying flat against the cushions and Jimin was hovering over him, one finger tracing down over his perineum.

Jimin looked up, thought he could feel his ribcage rattle with how hard his heart beat against it, a direct reaction to Yoongi’s eyes on him, dark and blazing all at once.

Jimin bit his lip. “Lift?” he asked, voice soft.

Yoongi smiled, angling his hips just slightly and putting the tip of Jimin’s finger right against his rim. Jimin swallowed a gasp, lips sticking together a little before they parted and he rubbed the tip around his entrance, shallowly dipping inside for a second.

Yoongi’s legs shifted, a little jerkily. “Are you gonna tease me, sunshine?”

Jimin shook his head, leaning his head against one of Yoongi’s knees. “Hyung, it’s been over a month since—” he slowly, slowly pushed the finger in to the first knuckle. “I did this.”

He glanced up at Yoongi’s restrained exhale, and with a start, saw that Yoongi had a hand on the marked-up side of his neck, fingers gently dragging up and down the sensitive skin as he watched Jimin, eyes half-lidded. “I don’t mind if it hurts a little.”

“Hyung,” Jimin breathed. He wet his lips with his tongue, inhaling as he pushed in further, lifting his head from Yoongi’s knee to look down at the way Yoongi was just—sucking him in. “W—you’re really tight,” he said, watching as the silver ring on his finger actually shifted down to the base, and he pushed further until the edges of it breached Yoongi’s hole. “Fuck. Yoongi.”

Yoongi didn’t respond, instead, breathed out slowly through slightly parted lips, the leg pressed against the back of the couch shifting up, opening himself up just a little more. Jimin’s gaze flickered up again to see that Yoongi was still touching the hickeys he’d made, eyes hazy and lips wet.

“You’re kinky, y’know,” Jimin said, voice thick with affection. He twisted his wrist as he pulled back, squeezing in a second finger as he pushed back in. Yoongi made a small sound as Jimin leaned forward, nosing Yoongi’s hand out of the way and brushing his lips over his neck, barely touching the skin.

“S’good,” Yoongi murmured, his arms wrapping around Jimin’s neck. He sighed when Jimin scissored his fingers, tilting his head back further, almost like he wanted Jimin to leave more marks. Jimin didn’t, though, only continued to softly drag his mouth up and down Yoongi’s neck, occasionally dropping soft kisses to the sensitive skin. Yoongi muttered something, a low curse, and then said hoarsely, “more.”

“Kay,” Jimin said, kissing under Yoongi’s ear and pushing in a third, a lot more slowly than he had the second. “F-fuck.”

Yoongi chuckled, his voice husky. “Aren’t I the one taking it?”

“You’re such a dick,” Jimin muttered, pushing in to his knuckles in one motion, flushing at the squelching noise the lube made, drowned out by Yoongi’s moan, low and rough in his ear.

“Like riling you up.”

Jimin pulled back just enough to cover Yoongi’s mouth with his own, because seriously, it was ridiculous how chatty he got during sex.

Jimin was too stubborn to admit how much he liked it, but the older boy knew. He could feel Yoongi smile against his lips before kissing him back, slow and unhurried, taking his time as he licked into Jimin’s mouth, fingers of one hand curling into the blonde strands at the nape of Jimin’s neck.

It was good. It was more than good, Jimin thought, suppressing another shiver when Yoongi playfully nipped at Jimin’s mouth. Yoongi knew, but Jimin did too. He pushed his tongue right back against Yoongi’s, feeling the ridges of his teeth, the roof of his mouth.

They continued to kiss like this even as Jimin began to move his fingers more quickly, setting a firm, fast pace before long that pushed soft little pants out of Yoongi’s mouth and right into Jimin’s.

“I like riling you up,” Jimin teased, just as his fingers found Yoongi’s prostate.

Yoongi’s reaction was immediate, his legs squeezing around Jimin, heels kicking into the small of his back, breath catching somewhere in his throat. Jimin continued to kiss him, twisting his fingers inside Yoongi and softly rubbing the tips against the small gland, grunting when Yoongi sunk his teeth into the pillowy skin of Jimin’s lower lip, tugging back and practically growling at him before he released.

Jimin crooked his fingers, tried not to smile at the way Yoongi’s eyeslashes fluttered, found it easy when Yoongi had the gall to smirk up at him, shifting his hips and leaning up to whisper against Jimin’s mouth, “I’m waiting.”


Jimin knew. He knew Yoongi liked baiting him, knew that that’s exactly what he was doing now. He also knew Yoongi knew that he liked rising to the bait.

So they were both grinning, Yoongi a little crookedly, Jimin around his pulsing lower lip clamped between his teeth, as he shifted backwards on his knees. Jimin scissored his fingers a couple more times before pulling them out completely, wrapping them, slick and messy with lube, around his cock.

“God that shit smells so sweet,” Yoongi grumbled as Jimin grabbed the bottle and squirted more onto himself.

Jimin rolled his eyes, and, just to annoy him, squeezed out another dollop before putting the container aside. “You don’t like sweet things?” he muttered, rubbing the tip of his dick around Yoongi’s rim.

Yoongi curled his fingers around the underside of his knees to hold his legs up. “Guess it depen—” and he broke off, head jerking back against the seat cushion when Jimin pushed past the first couple rings of muscle in one motion. “Mm.”

Jimin exhaled, slowly, his fingers digging into the cushion at either side of Yoongi’s head, dipping forward to kiss him silly and drink in his small, shaky gasp as Jimin inched forward at a pace that was excruciatingly slow for both of them. Jimin was usually the one receiving, and for all of Yoongi’s tough talk, the slow start was necessary. It was nice, too, sneaking peeks at Yoongi’s expression as Jimin eased himself inside—the pink in his cheeks, the shine in his eyes.

And he felt—he felt really good. Jimin had to force himself not to slam forward, shuddering at the tightness squeezing around his cock, dipping to kiss Yoongi—halfway to distract himself, halfway to distract the older boy from the stretch.

When he bottomed out, they didn’t move for a minute, foreheads pressed together as they both breathed deeply, in and out and in again. Jimin’s hips were warm and flush against Yoongi’s ass, and when he shifted back a little, he didn’t miss the way Yoongi’s lashes fluttered against his skin, the way his tongue darted out to swipe across his bottom lip.

Jimin shifted his head so he could whisper his next words against Yoongi’s marked up neck. “You’re so pretty.”

Yoongi exhaled sharply through his nose, ruffling Jimin’s hair in his short laugh. “Mhm. Enough sweet talk.”

Jimin tried not to laugh as he lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. He rolled his hips back, and then forward, taking care to cant them just the way Yoongi liked, could feel his abs pulse with a left over ache from his dance practice a couple days ago. But, the way Yoongi arched up, his teeth scraping across Jimin’s jaw, made the pain practically nonexistent, and so he did it again—and again, and again.

Jimin loved getting fucked, but having the older boy underneath him was—well it was really good, too. He could feel goosebumps on his arms, the shivering of his lungs, how his cock pulsed. And Yoongi—Yoongi was moaning softly into his neck before long, the sound so quiet but also unrestrained that Jimin didn’t think Yoongi even realized he was making noise.

And then he spoke.

“Why don’t you fuck me like you mean it, pumpkin?”

Jimin’s hips slammed forward almost before Yoongi had the chance to finish his sentence, hard enough that Yoongi’s arms locked around his neck as he shifted an inch up the couch, a surprised laugh slipping past his lips.

“Is that good, Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin said, his voice raspy and lower than normal. He placed a hard, open mouthed kiss to the side of Yoongi’s face, skimming over his temple as he picked up a pace. “Do you—think I mean it?”

Jimin knew how to use his hips, and he had more muscle backing him then Yoongi did when it came down to it, so when he fucked hard, he fucked hard.

Just how he knew Yoongi liked it.

He could feel Yoongi’s blunt nails digging crescent shaped marks into the skin of his upper back, near his shoulders, and didn’t bother trying to hide his own groan when Yoongi went to wrap his legs more tightly around Jimin’s waist, encouraging him to push in deeper. Jimin was fucking into him so deep and so quickly that Yoongi couldn’t draw enough breath to speak again, to comment, to even ask for Jimin to fuck him harder.

It didn’t stop Jimin from trying to get an answer. “C’mon, Yoongi—does it feel good?” He found a grip in Yoongi’s black hair and pulled his head to the side, rolled his hips forward so hard that the noise their skin made as it came together nearly drowned out Yoongi’s moan, a deep, shaky sound that had Jimin’s toes curling. “Tell me it’s good, babe, baby—Yoongi—”

Jimin could feel the shudder that went through Yoongi’s body, how Yoongi tightened around him, wet and warm and absolutely exquisite without any layer in between. Jimin’s grip in Yoongi’s hair tightened when he said through gritted teeth, “s’good Jimin, fuck—”

Yoongi broke off, letting Jimin grab the bottom of his thighs and push them forward, his blonde hair dark and wet at his temples, lips slick and shiny. Yoongi’s face pinched briefly at the stretch and being bent nearly in half, and while Jimin stopped pushing forward, he didn’t stop fucking him, his hips all but pistoning back and forth in a perfect, deliberate rhythm. Yoongi’s brow was scrunched in pleasure, his lips parting as he gasped, heels pressing, nearly kicking at Jimin’s lower back. Close Jimin thought he might have said. More.

Yoongi then made a small, choked sound, his fingers curling around his cock. “I’m—” he gasped, head pushing back against the cushions, his neck a pretty curve of pale skin and pink and purple marks.

Jimin felt his gut curl, his hips stuttering as he chased his climax, drinking in the glazed expression in Yoongi’s eyes, the dark pink flush of his lips, the same color flowering in his cheeks, his hair soft and black and gorgeous fanned out around his head.

He was stupid beautiful. Jimin bit back a groan, gasping around the noise. The dazed expression in Yoongi’s eyes cleared as he blinked up at Jimin, making way for something a lot clearer, a lot more intense.

“Yoongi,” Jimin husked, and the pull in his stomach tightened and released as he surged forward and kissed Yoongi’s pretty, pretty mouth, soft and firm all at once under his lips, a deep, guttural moan rumbling in the back of Yoongi’s throat. Jimin felt the warm wetness of Yoongi’s orgasm streak across his stomach, felt his own breath hitch as he rode out his own, fucking Yoongi through their climax, relishing in the shaking gasps that skittered across Jimin’s neck.

Jimin pulled back, feeling a little dizzy when Yoongi kissed him immediately, a shaky, one syllable “ohfuck” puffing over his mouth, the pitch of his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

“Good?” Jimin mumbled against Yoongi’s mouth.

Yoongi slid his hands down so he could cup Jimin’s face, but he didn’t stop kissing him, soft, little pecks that had Jimin pressing forward for more. Yoongi’s mouth curved into a smile, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop Jimin from shifting forward, so all he could do was sit there and let Yoongi kiss him at his own pace.

“Hyung,” Jimin said. He was pouting.

“You fuck me so good,” Yoongi said, his voice velvet. His thumbs skimmed Jimin’s cheekbones. “So, so good.”

Jimin smiled, turned his head to kiss the side of Yoongi’s palm. “I know, but you’re a tease about it.”

Yoongi grinned before leaning forward to kiss Jimin, this time for a lot longer, with a little more tongue. When they pulled apart, they were both breathless again.

“You’re perfect, Jimin,” Yoongi breathed, his eyes expression soft. His eyes darted across Jimin’s face. “I—” he paused. Licked his lips.

When he was quiet for longer than ten seconds, Jimin tilted his head. “Yoongi,” he mumbled, brushing his nose across Yoongi’s. Yoongi shifted under him, calling attention to the fact that Jimin was still inside him.

“Ah,” Jimin huffed. “Just—” he scrunched up his nose for a second as he pulled out, stroking his knuckles along Yoongi’s jaw. “Want me to get a towel?”

“No, c’mere,” Yoongi muttered. He adjusted himself, turning so he was laying on his side, providing just enough room for Jimin to settle next to him. Their legs tangled together and Yoongi smoothed a large hand up Jimin’s thigh, skittering down to tickle at the hickeys along the inside before finally coming to rest on the dip of his waist.

Jimin looked up, reaching out to place a hand on Yoongi’s cheek, playing with the longer strands of his dark fringe, flicking one out of his eyes and smiling, a little uncertainly, as Yoongi just looked at him. His cheeks were still a little flushed, his lips dark and shiny from the kissing. The side of his neck with the hickeys was pressed into the couch cushions, but some edges of the bruising still peeked out. His smile turned a little mischievous, and Jimin dipped forward, kissing at what he could see. When he pulled back, his face closer to Yoongi’s now, he felt his breath stop before it even left his lungs at the focus in Yoongi’s eyes. 

“Jimin,” Yoongi said. He squeezed Jimin’s waist.

Jimin swallowed around the sudden thumping in his throat. “Yoongi,” he hummed, sliding his fingers from Yoongi’s cheeks through to his hair and then back again.

They laid there in quiet for—it had to be several minutes. Jimin couldn’t be sure. Yoongi’s fingers were firm on his side, and his own hand was gentle as he stroked back and forth through Yoongi’s hair. Their eyes only left each other when Jimin looked down at Yoongi’s lips, when Yoongi then leaned forward to kiss him, quick and soft.

Jimin exhaled, tilted his head up, felt his cheeks flame under Yoongi’s gaze. He opened his mouth, then closed it, squeezed his eyes shut.

“What is it?” Yoongi said quietly when Jimin opened them again.

The movement of Jimin’s hand stilled. For a beat, there wasn’t even the sound of their breathing.


“You know,” Jimin whispered.

The look that had been in Yoongi’s eyes up till now, that intent focus seemed to flare. His leg caught around Jimin’s, hand sliding around to his back, all to pull him closer, so that his next words were spoken against the top of his head.

“I know.”




 (I mean I could, but why would I want to?) /