who's the boss?

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/25717456.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga
Character: Kim Namjoon | RM, Min Yoongi | Suga, Kim Seokjin | Jin, Jung Hoseok
| J-Hope, Park Jimin (BTS), Kim Taehyung | V, Jeon Jungkook
Additional Tags: Porn With Plot, Bondage, Choking, Spit Kink, Biting, Barebacking, Anal
Sex, Top Kim Namjoon | RM, Bottom Min Yoongi | Suga, Size
Difference, Pining, Canon Compliant, vmin are a nuisance, Alcohol, take
a shot every time i mention yoongi's pinkness
Stats: Published: 2020-08-04 Words: 12386

who's the boss?

by namginut (jardad)

Summary

Namjoon visits Yoongi on the set of Daechwita and is faced with the sight of him all tied
up.

Notes

i started writing this on the day of the first daechwita photo, i am the worst

(a warning that this contains two gentle slaps and a very brief possible mention of
feminisation)

See the end of the work for more notes

Namjoon has been through a lot regarding Yoongi.

An almost decade long friendship has unsurprisingly involved a fair amount of emotional events,
along with some of the horny variety.

They shared a one-bedroom apartment when they were teenagers, Namjoon saw him in a maid
costume and was haunted by it for months in when they first debuted, was forced to confront his
sexuality because of this.

Yoongi is just really pretty.

And thoughtful and talented. He initially seemed mysterious, far too cool and slightly (very)
terrifying, but turned out to be a contender for the sweetest man Namjoon is lucky enough to know.
He doesn’t raise his voice, he holds back his tears but gives Namjoon the honour of witnessing
them on very rare occasion, who always ends up respecting him even more afterwards.

Music is a huge part of what makes Yoongi so special, which brings Namjoon to his current
predicament.

The first time Namjoon watched the Agust D music video in back 2016, he went through some
stuff. Lucky enough to have already heard the song beforehand, all he could process was a) Yoongi
looking really badass, and b) he was tied up.

The worst part was that thanks to Namjoon’s past generosity of his porn collection, everyone in
their household knew that he happened to have an appreciation for people being tied up. He would
not have been so generous if he had known that 3 years later, he would be huddled around a
computer watching Yoongi struggling with bound wrists whilst Jimin pats his thigh
condescendingly and Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows every time they make eye contact.

Yoongi had mercifully refused to watch the video with them, so he didn’t have to witness the
public shaming. Namjoon likes to think that he didn’t notice the occasional bondage related pun
made by Seokjin throughout the days after they had watched it.

At least Namjoon had his own computer by then and could browse any coincidental porn
categories in peace.

He chooses to ignore the existence of one cursed night that year, in which Jimin, Taehyung and
Hoseok got him drunk. Yoongi had been particularly pretty around that time, hair freshly black for
the first time since debut. Too much soju and coaxing from Jimin somehow led to Namjoon
whining about his crush, which somehow resulted in discussion of the pain caused by the Agust D
music video.

Hence, everyone other than Yoongi eventually finding out about Namjoon being not only in love,
but also kinky.

Almost four years after the first bondage incident, Namjoon is faced with something even worse.

The whole group decided to come and join Yoongi on the set of his new music video after his
endless complaints about them missing the first time. Namjoon considered himself very lucky for
not witnessing the filming before, but thought he should be a better friend now, didn’t even
consider that Yoongi’s historical concept would result in similar horrors to the first one.

Namjoon was naïve.

It’s the evening of the first day of filming and they’re about to have a photoshoot before recording
continues, the last scene of the day. He’s only joined with Jimin and Taehyung, with the others
coming tomorrow, providing optimal company for poor Yoongi. Namjoon has been in awe for
hours, Yoongi didn’t hold back for this at all. Namjoon loves him for it. His new black hair makes
him look even prettier, and the eye scar adds to that, maybe Namjoon is in too deep. Or he’s just
gross.

There’s something about Yoongi talking shit that fucks Namjoon up. Usually they’re together on
the aggressive songs, so Namjoon has something else to focus on. When it’s Agust D, he’s not
safe. It’s impossible to think about anything other than Yoongi.

The sun has just set, bats are fluttering around the old prison courtyard, catching bugs drawn to the
fire pits. It would be eerie if not for the bustling staff setting up cameras and Taehyung having
found a fake sword, resulting in screeches from Jimin. A merciful distraction for Namjoon until he
catches sight of Yoongi.

The director politely tells them to shut up, causing Namjoon to glance over to where the cameras
are pointed, and proceed to choke on nothing until Taehyung has to smack his back. It would be
humiliating if he had the ability to be self-aware in the moment.

Yoongi is standing in the centre of the courtyard while a stylist who is (surprisingly) a lot smaller
than him finishes tying a rope around his wrists. There’s already a second rope going around his
torso, fully binding his arms, and it’s so much worse than 2016. No one warned Namjoon about
this. The shock holds off his sinful thoughts for a few moments. He gapes.

The photoshoot begins as if Namjoon didn’t just loudly have a near death experience. He huddles
around the monitor with Jimin and Taehyung, aiming to pretend that Yoongi isn’t really tied up a
few meters away. Yoongi looks up at the camera through his hair, far too pretty as he glares,
ferally delicate. The light from the fire makes him look like a demon, occasionally stumbling as he
gets into it. It’s so much and they haven’t even started filming yet.

It doesn’t take long before they move on to the video shoot, or maybe Namjoon just blacked out.
Thankfully they’re only filming one verse with him tied up, Namjoon can get through this, he’s
seen Yoongi in his underwear, he’s a strong man. He watches in awe as the music starts up and
Yoongi mouths along, back in his cocky persona, giving Namjoon whiplash after seeing him
bashful from praise just ten minutes ago.

Namjoon feels a bit dazed, dizzy from the camera circling around Yoongi, or maybe it’s just the
sight of him all tied up. He startles when he feels arms wrap around him, a chin plopping on his
shoulder and hears Jimin’s teasing voice.

“How are you holding up?”

Namjoon’s first response is to say that he’s struggling, then takes a moment to realise how
inappropriate the question is: Jimin did not forget about the bondage thing, and Namjoon is being
obvious. Wonderful.

“Hyung looks really cool.” Namjoon manages to respond without sounding as pained as he feels.

“Mhm. He suits being tied up.”

Jimin’s condescending pout can be identified without even looking, Namjoon focuses back on the
screen, Yoongi is still hot. He keeps grinning, snarling, looking like he should have fangs or
something. That’s a thought. They’re quickly interrupted by Taehyung, Namjoon incorrectly
thinks that he’s being saved from interrogation, then gets something shoved into his hands.

“The stylist is too short to put this on him, you’re the tallest.” Taehyung’s grin is innocent,
followed by a contradictory glance towards Jimin. Namjoon gets shoved forwards, doesn’t even
know what he’s being asked to do but definitely knows that he shouldn’t trust this duo when
Yoongi is nearby.

Yoongi is standing there looking at him expectantly, still tied up, complaining. “Taehyung, you’re
taller than me, and I could’ve just crouched down. This is ridiculous.” Namjoon looks back, is met
with an eyeroll. “Hurry up.” Yoongi raises his head, signalling for him to come forward.

Namjoon makes his way over, finally looks down at what he’s holding and contemplates death.
Obviously, Taehyung would make Namjoon blindfold Yoongi when he has perfectly capable
stylists. Taehyung could’ve done it, Jimin could’ve done it, even the Cameraman could’ve done it.
But it’s too late to turn back now, nothing weird about blindfolding your bro. Who also happens to
be bound by ropes.

The fire is hot, Namjoon can feel his hands sweating. Yoongi is looking up at him through his hair
and suddenly it’s quiet. Yoongi’s forehead is a bit wet, sticking to the freshly black strands and
adding to his slightly terrifying beauty. Namjoon swallows.

“Can you get my hair out of my eye? My hands are occupied.” Yoongi asks, ominously playful.
The song must be getting to him, which isn’t surprising after hearing the lyrics all day.

He’s the king, and Namjoon would happily worship him.

God, would he like to worship Yoongi, to do whatever he asked. Maybe he could get him to say
please instead, to beg? The ropes could help with that. Namjoon is greedy, he wants both.

He’s lucky enough to see the look Yoongi gets in his eye when he’s in too deep to his lyrics, wants
to see them possessed by other forms of passion, wants to see them hazy with pleasure, wants to
make them roll back.

Not great thoughts to focus on when he’s about to blindfold him. He’ll mourn the intense gaze to
be blocked by this piece of fabric, but Yoongi will find a way to show it elsewhere, Namjoon has
no doubt, he’s a performer.

It’s kind of sad that Namjoon still lets their height difference get to him after so many years. He’s
taller than a lot of people, but there’s just something about Yoongi. Namjoon gently grips his bony
shoulders, guiding him to turn around, finally bringing the blindfold to his eyes. They’re both
facing away from everyone else now, Namjoon just has a view of the black of Yoongi’s hair and
the dark prison cells and the twilight. They all suit each other: haunting beauty, that’s Yoongi.

Hopefully Namjoon’s overthinking has made this moment feel drawn out, rather than him actually
just standing there like an idiot and hesitating. He cups Yoongi’s chin, tilting his head around to
make sure his eyes are covered, thinks he might’ve heard a shaky breath when their skin made
contact, his imagination going too far as usual.

Namjoon wants to make him react, to see how sensitive he is: just the brush of a finger or does he
need some pain? He’s unsure of which is sounds more delectable, wants to see it all.

They’re really close. The blindfold makes him think that he could lean in for a kiss without Yoongi
even noticing. It feels like Yoongi is handing him some power allowing him to do this, as if it isn’t
the job of any stylist.

But it is just the job of a stylist, and it means nothing.

He manages to tie the blindfold, carefully avoiding getting any hair caught in the knot, trying his
best to be delicate in a way that he is not. Yoongi stands still, patient, obedient, all tied up.
Namjoon opts for an awkward pat on the head to indicate that he’s done, proceeds to wince.

“Can you turn me around?” Yoongi asks, voice quiet but still giving Namjoon a fright as if a
blindfold was supposed to act as a gag, too. His legs aren’t tied, does he just like to be guided? By
Namjoon?

His eyes are covered, and he therefore doesn’t know which way the cameras are. Namjoon lets out
a quiet laugh at his own ridiculous thoughts, quickly helping Yoongi turn, whispering a good luck,
and finally returning to a safe viewing spot. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. A safe distance
away from Yoongi, but back to the danger of his bandmates.

“That was kind of hot.” Jimin stage whispers to Taehyung as soon as Namjoon is in hearing
distance. It’s been a long day.

Namjoon makes it through the rest of the filming, it’s fast because Yoongi is perfect. He grins in
his blindfold, calls himself a boss despite being tied up, Namjoon’s has to check that he’s not
drooling at the sight. By the end of it, Yoongi is so sweaty from the fire and Namjoon finds
himself inappropriately jealous of the women who get to cut the ropes and wipe his forehead.

Jimin and Taehyung immediately whistle and cheer when Yoongi makes his way towards them,
clearly worn out but still giving them his cute little smile and pretending to not be affected by their
praise. It’s so endearing, Namjoon wants to punch himself. He manages to give Yoongi a bro
smack on the back, who politely doesn’t act like that was weird, which it was.
 ♡

He’s paired in a car with Yoongi for the hour-long journey home, because he never catches a
break. Yoongi closes his eyes as soon as they sit down, clad in sweats and makeup removed but
hair still styled. He might look even prettier now, cheeks all rosy from the makeup remover, mouth
all pouty from exhaustion.

“You looked really cool today, hyung.” Namjoon says it in a rush, scared that he’ll mess up a
simple sentence. Yoongi doesn’t even look at him when he says it, and he’s thankful for it, gets to
watch his reaction.

Yoongi hums in response but his lips quirk up, he pushes his hair back to try to act unaffected.
Namjoon has seen this so many times, though it’s not usually as a result of his own compliments
due to the fact that he’s terrible at handing them out. Yoongi’s reaction makes him vow to give
more, wishing he could be as casual as Hoseok. It’s hard to stop looking when Yoongi’s all
sprawled out on the seat, head leaning back, hair out of his face, earrings and fresh undercut on
show. His neck looks inviting, Namjoon needs to stop.

Thankfully, Yoongi falls asleep unnaturally fast, and Namjoon gets to sit and stew in his horny
thoughts in peace for an hour. When they make it back to their apartment, Yoongi groans and
hobbles out of the car, half asleep and on a mission to get to his bed. His hair is sticking up from
sleeping awkwardly in the car and Namjoon winces at how cute it is. He wishes he could join him
when he gets to his bedroom, tell him all about how well he did today, how good his album is,
how good he is.

Instead, Namjoon crawls into his own bed and thinks about Yoongi rapping about spitting on his
face. The usual.

It’s the night before the release of Yoongi’s album and he’s being made to celebrate properly.
They’ve rented out a room in a non-fancy barbecue place, Seokjin’s ears are red as he makes
another toast to Yoongi’s talent, Hoseok looks like he’s been through a lot after a few beers,
Taehyung is out of Namjoon’s sight because he’s trying to sleep with his face in an entirely fine
Jimin’s lap, Jungkook is behaving.

Yoongi is seated across from Namjoon, he’s been smiling whenever he’s not being praised, and
Namjoon is entirely content, so proud of his friend.
“Let’s not forget that Joon-hyung is a part of the album too!” Jungkook is tipsy enough to be more
openly affectionate, briefly resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulder and making him squeeze his
eyes shut because it’s so cute. Jungkook retreats when he gets his hair ruffled.

“Ah, I just wrote a few lines thanks to his beautiful guide, his vocals are catching up to yours,
Kook.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes as Jungkook begs to hear the demo. Namjoon leans over for more wine to
divert the attention from him, but Yoongi has the same idea. Their fingers brush. Yoongi jumps
and retreats his hand, doesn’t make eye contact, Jimin is grinning.

“Are you gonna stop complaining about four years ago now that we’ve all visited you on set?”
Seokjin asks, making everyone laugh and Yoongi grumble.

“I only brought it up when it was relevant, you all visited everyone else.” He finally gets the wine
bottle from Namjoon, drinking to hide his red cheeks.

“It was fun, you looked really cool, right Joon?” Jimin looks smug as he pets Taehyung’s head,
Namjoon’s tight smile is probably confusing to everyone else, hopefully Yoongi is tipsy enough to
ignore it.

“Very, you should grow out your hair for real, hyung.”

“You’d like that.” Jimin’s response earns him a shove from Hoseok, who clearly tries to move the
conversation on to save Namjoon from any more exposure. Nice to know who he can trust,
definitely not Jimin, nor Seokjin who is still wheezing. Yoongi looks blankly at the table, spaced
out or maybe analysing whatever Jimin was implying. Namjoon’s not even sure if he himself
knows, or wants to.

Namjoon seems to just be fated to suffer as he once again ends up in a car with a worn out Yoongi
for the short drive home. They’re both pretty drunk, Namjoon is terrified of saying something
weird as if they haven’t been in this situation countless times. He swears he hasn’t always feared
their interactions to this extent, doesn’t know when he started getting so pathetic, shouldn’t it get
easier over time? Aren’t crushes supposed to fade?

But there Yoongi is, no makeup, messy hair, prettiest face in the world. The neon lights from
outside make Namjoon doubt that he’s even real, looks like something from a movie. The alcohol
clouding his brain is absolutely making him stare more than he should, but it’s hard to look away
from someone so pretty.

“Did I really look cool? Not like an old man?”

Namjoon didn’t expect Yoongi to break the silence, thinks he’s joking at first, it’s clearly intended
as a joke, but with some truth beneath it. An old man? It might’ve been the hottest Yoongi has ever
looked, which is saying something, because Namjoon has seen him almost every day for almost a
decade. He always manages to get more beautiful, more delicately pretty, more aggressive when
he’s into a song.

“The coolest. If I didn’t know you, I’d probably want to worship you.” That—was far too much.
He had no intention of saying those words, but worship has been on his mind since his day on set.
Hopefully it’s taken as hyperbole. Yoongi snorts, shakes his head and looks back out of the
window.

“Right, thanks.”

Namjoon makes a note not to get drunk around Yoongi for a while, until he gets a grasp of his
feelings, finds a distraction. He should probably try to get laid or something, but while he is
probably much more consistently horny than the average person, the effort of finding someone to
fuck hasn’t often been worth it in the end. One-night stands can be awkward, the fear of someone
having the wrong intentions got more persistent as the group got more famous.

The solution is obviously to date someone, and Namjoon chooses not to analyse why he doesn’t
even consider this as an option.

Yoongi is curled up on the couch like a cat. Namjoon wants to jump out of the window.

Pale, bare feet are resting on his thighs so he has no option but to sit and endure, wouldn’t dream
of waking him up. Not because he’s scary or anything, just because he looks so soft. He’s pouting
and his hair is sticking up, and to Namjoon’s absolute despair, he is clad in soft shorts. They’ve
ridden up a bit in his sleep, exposing the softest looking thighs, so pale that Namjoon finds himself
thinking of tofu. Not the most erotic food comparison, but maybe that’s a good thing. Tofu is
definitely platonic.

Namjoon’s yearning is not.

A smash makes them both jump, Taehyung is in the kitchen with wide eyes, whispering an apology
as if a quiet voice will make up for the loudest sound ever made. Yoongi is pouting more now,
ruffles his hair and looks over to Namjoon, takes a moment before realising that his feet are on his
lap.

Namjoon mourns the loss when he awkwardly pulls them away, curling in on himself even more.
He makes himself get up before Jimin senses his pining and appears in the room, decides to go and
work out to take his mind off of Yoongi, like a functional human.

Exercise does not end the pining, but it sure does make him sweaty. Namjoon’s heart is set on
comfy pyjamas and reading in bed. As he makes his way back through their apartment, he
remembers that his softest shirt has recently gone missing, finally reminding himself to ask
someone about it.

The spot on the couch he vacated a while ago now belongs to Jimin, and Yoongi is exactly where
he was before, just waking up again if his furrowed eyebrows are anything to go by. Namjoon
loves it when he naps, not just because he looks really cute, but he also needs rest after all of the
work he does. Carrying the music industry on his back, what a hero.

Jimin smiles sweetly at Namjoon when he approaches the couch, and proceeds to rest his evil little
hand on Yoongi’s very bare calf. Yoongi tries to shuffle away, but is still tired enough to let it be in
the end.

“Uh—has my white FG shirt ended up in anyone’s bedroom?”

Jimin taps his chin, and Namjoon is already suspicious of what he’s about to say, can’t ever let his
guard down around such a menace. “Doesn’t Yoongi have the same one? Could be there.” He
kneads at Yoongi’s calf, who is clearly trying to wake up a bit more to help.

“Just check in the closet closest to the door, sorry if I stole it.” Yoongi’s voice is all deep from
sleep, Namjoon’s favourite sound, he wishes he could steal Jimin’s seat and watch him wake up
some more.

“Thanks, hyung.”

The stroll to Yoongi’s bedroom is filled with thoughts of his thighs. When he reaches his
wardrobe, Namjoon takes a moment to feel weird about looking through his stuff without
supervision, then considers that they’ve lived together for a decade. There are a lot of shirts inside,
not a lot of structure, Namjoon starts digging and tries not to mess up any abstract layout Yoongi
might have going on with his stacking.

At the very back, familiar soft white fabric is found, along with something else. It takes a moment
to process what he’s holding.

Many activities involve rope, they’re just not coming to Namjoon’s mind right now. Some DIY
project? Maybe it’s somehow relevant to fishing, or he’s going rock climbing? Very Yoongi. The
rope is a lot softer than any Namjoon has felt before, it’s black and quite thin, unlike the rope from
the music video.

The video in which Yoongi was tied up. With rope. That’s not what Namjoon should be thinking
about.

Too late, his shirt is forgotten about. He runs the rope through his hands, thinks about Yoongi. He
must have someone who uses it on him, or maybe he’s the one doing the tying. But it’s in his
bedroom, ready to be used whenever he pleases, and he seems to be a fan if his music videos are
anything to go by. Namjoon wraps it lightly around his fist, wanting to know what it feels like,
absolutely overstepping a boundary or two.

Despite being a connoisseur of bondage in porn, Namjoon’s experience of it doesn’t go far beyond
fantasy. A whole lot of fantasies, perhaps featuring Yoongi on occasion. He once fumbled through
binding a girl’s wrists with a tie, felt weirdly sinful for doing so, having so much power and trust
handed to him through something so simple. It scared him more than he expected, and he almost
came in his pants. An enlightening experience which he is yet to repeat.

He’s older now though, more experienced and comfortable in his skin. He could learn how to tie
Yoongi up all pretty, worshipping his body like it deserves, proceeding to fuck him within an inch
of his life. If Yoongi likes to be tied up, he’s probably all docile, obedient, he’d be good for
Namjoon. While that concept makes his dick twitch, he struggles to actually imagine Yoongi doing
anything of the sort. He’d probably be the one on his knees.
“Uh,”

Namjoon jumps, spins around, sees his life flash before his eyes.

He left the door open, didn’t notice when a panicked Yoongi rushed into the room, halting and
panicking much more at the sight of Namjoon occupied with rope wrapped around his hand. His
rope. Namjoon doesn’t know what to say, it looks like Yoongi is in the same boat. They stare at
each other, Yoongi looks down at Namjoon’s hands, still wrapped up. His gaze lingers.

Namjoon clenches his fists, realises in that moment that he thought a bit too hard about ropes and
Yoongi and now he’s a bit too aware of his dick. Yoongi clears his throat.

“I’m a serial killer, surprise!” Yoongi says awkwardly, half laughing, half wincing. Namjoon
pauses, decides that laughing back might make them able to just pretend this didn’t happen. He’d
rather imagine Yoongi as an actual serial killer than the alternative.

That is absolutely not true, but at least it won’t give Namjoon a hard-on.

After Namjoon does his horrific fake laugh, still frozen and unfortunately holding the rope, Yoongi
opts for fleeing over suffering through talking. Reasonable, but also not solving the problem of
future awkwardness between them. Namjoon doesn’t even think, quickly grabbing his wrist before
he can leave the room, takes a step forward and shuts the door to keep him in. They’ll talk about it,
like they always do, because they’ve lived together for a decade.

There’s no way that this is any worse than walking in on each other beating their meat, which has
occurred a few too many times. Yoongi was even in the apartment when Namjoon lost his
virginity, patted him on the back afterwards like a proud dad. They can handle some kink
knowledge. It might even strengthen their friendship, who knows.

“Hyung,” Yoongi isn’t looking at him, Namjoon is still holding his wrist when he speaks.

“We’re not talking about this.” He looks smaller than usual, tilting his head downwards until he’s
faced with the rope again, quickly looking away.
“It’s fine, do you think I’m gonna kink shame or something?”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut at Namjoon’s words. “Don’t say that.”

“What?” He’s still not making eye contact, just staring straight ahead, which happens to be the
location of Namjoon’s chest. “Kink shame?” It’s so ridiculous that Namjoon can’t help but laugh.

Yoongi groans, finally looking up, pausing for a moment. “So, are you gonna tell me why Jimin
always makes the weird bdsm jokes about you rather than me?” He says, and Namjoon is suddenly
trying to remember how he’s supposed to look at someone normally rather than portraying dread.
Yoongi squints. “Did something happen?”

It’s Namjoon’s turn to wince. His embarrassment seems to cancel out Yoongi’s, who starts to back
him away from the door. Namjoon attempts to bring the focus off of him, back to Yoongi, says the
first thing that comes to mind. “So, do you—uh, have someone you use them with, or is it just a
solo thing?”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raise, Namjoon regrets.

“…Why?”

They had been walking backwards until Namjoon opened his mouth, now situated right in front of
Yoongi’s bed. Namjoon can’t even make a run for it, despite how much he wants to. Apparently,
Yoongi harms his ability to think before he speaks.

Yoongi keeps staring up at him, looking as if a realisation has just dawned upon him, and Namjoon
feels naked. “I thought you knew before, that you thought I was weird for it, but now,” He has that
rare teasing look on his face as he speaks, the one he only gets when he’s feeling confident, usually
in the middle of arguing with Jimin. Namjoon is terrified. “Were you thinking about it?”

Namjoon opens his mouth, nothing comes out. Is Yoongi closer than before? “Th—” He clears his
throat, chokes out his words. Yoongi is so much smaller than him but his eyes are so intense,
Namjoon feels mildly threatened. “Thinking about what?”

It’s a lot when Yoongi grabs the rope, still wrapped around his hand. He gives it a tug, Namjoon
manages to stop himself from stumbling closer.
“Me.”

Namjoon gulps. Yoongi knows about his dirty thoughts, but doesn’t sound disgusted, and Namjoon
can’t comprehend that. He doesn’t even sound uncomfortable; he’s looking up at him like—

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Namjoon manages to ask, unsure if he even wants to hear
the answer. Yoongi is still holding the rope, Namjoon tries to inch back a bit, hoping that distance
might help him breathe, but the back of his knees hit the end of Yoongi’s bed.

He’s trapped, feels like he’s about to be torn apart, and maybe that sounds appealing. Yoongi can
have his viscera, he can take whatever he wants, Namjoon is wholly his.

Yoongi smiles a bit when Namjoon jumps at the contact with the bed, eyes glistening. “I don’t
have someone who uses them, no.” He looks down at the rope, Namjoon follows his gaze, he’s
fiddling with it and slowly pulling the bound hands closer to him. Namjoon just lets it happen,
wouldn’t want to stop him even if he could. Why hasn’t he unwrapped his hands yet?

It’s oddly relieving to know that no one gets to use them. Gets to tie Yoongi up.

“You use them on your own?” Namjoon doesn’t know why he keeps asking questions which he
knows he can’t handle the answers to. Yoongi pouts, oh no, nods. Namjoon doesn’t want to
imagine what he does on his own, he must wish he had someone with him. Maybe he doesn’t
actually want to give the power to anyone, is fine with just the feeling by himself, Namjoon
shouldn’t assume.

But god is it hard to avoid thinking about Yoongi on his dark sheets—he has silky black ones, so
dramatic—frustrated and thinking about company. He might need to use his teeth to get the rope to
sit right, maybe he ties his wrists up and ruts against his bed and longs for someone to be binding
him properly. They’d need to be loose enough to undo himself, unsatisfying. Namjoon would help.

Yoongi’s watching attentively as if he knows what he’s thinking about, as if he’s satisfied by it.
Namjoon didn’t even notice that he had gently started to unwrap his hands. “Want to know what I
think about on my own?”

Not at all. Namjoon nods pathetically. Yoongi’s tongue pokes at his cheek, failing to mask the
smile he’s attempting to hold back. Namjoon must be amusing, all big and dumb and flustered,
ready to do whatever his hyung asks of him. He doesn’t even realise that he’s being gently coerced
to sit at the end of the bed until he has already complied.

There are hands on his shoulders, inching towards the back of his neck, making his eyelids flutter
when they fiddle with his hair. Yoongi is looking down at him, hesitating, planning his words, and
Namjoon is patient. Yoongi’s hands are big and pretty and delicate, Namjoon’s neck is sensitive. If
he were a cat, he would be purring.

Apparently, the sight of him happily squirming over the touch is enough for Yoongi to say
whatever he was psyching himself up for. Namjoon kind of zoned out, let himself be watched,
stopped freaking about whatever Yoongi thinks about on his own.

Until Yoongi brings his face down to his ear. “I think about you.” Namjoon inhales sharply at
Yoongi’s words, his voice is so low, and his nails start to dig into the back of his neck a bit. The
deep voice and shallow pain are enough to make Namjoon somewhat coherent again, to make him
register what Yoongi is actually saying.

“You want me to—?”

Namjoon is about to pull back to get a look of Yoongi’s face, to make sure that he’s not joking,
that he’s actually real. But before he manages, he finds himself with a lap full of his hyung.

Yoongi clambers up and seats himself down on his knee, so dainty but so overwhelming. Namjoon
doesn’t know what to do with his hands, just holds them stupidly in the air, scared to touch.
They’re at an equal height for once due to Yoongi’s seating choice. When his face is finally back
in sight, he looks at Namjoon through his dark fringe, cheeks a bit red from his bold confession.

Yoongi’s nod gives Namjoon the courage to gently touch him; he rests his hands on his waist, so
light that he only really feels the thick hoodie without the firm warmth beneath. There’s no way he
would survive touching Yoongi’s bare skin.

“Can’t believe you’ve thought about this.” Namjoon manages to say, in awe as he rubs at Yoongi’s
sides, trying to gain some bravery. He’s looking down at his hands now, didn’t even realise that he
was doing it, just wants to make sure that the touch is real. Yoongi is so delicate. And he’s wearing
shorts, soft little thighs squished against Namjoon’s.

“I think about you all the time,” There’s a touch under Namjoon’s chin, forcing him to look away
from Yoongi’s waist, up at his eyes before he continues to speak. “I’m yours, Joon.” Namjoon’s
mouth opens, then closes, completely useless. He just grips at him, trying to hold onto his sanity
after hearing those words. He doesn’t succeed. “Always been yours.”

Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut and leans his head against Yoongi’s shoulder, thinks he might
pass out or something ridiculous like that. “Mine?” His voice is breathier than he intends.

“Mhm.”

“Shit.”

Namjoon barely holds back a pleased noise at the feeling of his hair getting tugged, doesn’t realise
what he’s being pulled back for until—

Yoongi’s lips are on his. Holy fuck.

It’s soft and delicate, like him. Hesitant and awkward, entirely overwhelming despite being so
gentle. Namjoon’s breath hitches and Yoongi pulls away before he can even participate in the kiss.
The kiss. Yoongi kissed him, and Namjoon is just sitting there. Without even consciously intending
it, he follows his mouth when he pulls back, lets out a tiny pathetic little noise which he thinks is
just in his head until Yoongi chuckles.

Namjoon blinks at him in awe. He’s so pretty. His lips are so pink, his eyes are so dark, the skin
peeking from the wide neck of his baggy hoodie is making Namjoon’s mouth water. He realises
that he’s been staring when his sight is blocked by big hands.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Yoongi’s voice is whiny and Namjoon grins.

“Like what?” He lets Yoongi keep his eyes covered for now, finding his embarrassment all too
adorable. “Like you, my long-term friend, just unexpectedly kissed me?”

Yoongi groans again at that, frees his eyes, providing a nice view of blushy cheeks. He tugs at
Namjoon’s hair again to shut him up, and it works. He found one of his many weaknesses, and
he’ll likely keep finding more if he stays on his lap much longer. Namjoon is a sucker for getting
his hair pulled and even more of a sucker for Min Yoongi. His only solution to protect himself is to
pull him back in for another kiss.
He can feel Yoongi melt against him, all sweet and warm and soft soft soft. There’s a smile against
his lips, the hand in his hair loosens and becomes gentle as the kiss becomes less so. Their
hesitance quickly fades, Namjoon wraps his hands around Yoongi’s small torso and pulls him
closer. Hugging isn’t even the norm for them, usually left for the other members to drag them into,
but here they are, and it feels pretty good.

Just as Namjoon starts to get carried away, ready to throw Yoongi onto the bed and ravish him or
something super sexy, he’s interrupted by a snort. He reluctantly breaks the kiss when Yoongi
keeps failing to hold back laughter. Maybe he’s amused by how pathetically desperate Namjoon is,
that would not be surprising.

“Are you laughing at me?” Namjoon pouts, can’t resist stealing another rushed kiss before Yoongi
has the chance to speak.

“Just—romance founded upon bondage. That’s not how I expected this to start.”

“Been thinking about this a lot, have you?” Namjoon teases and earns himself an eyeroll, goes in to
kiss at Yoongi’s neck as a silent apology before he continues. “Daydreaming about me holding
your hand and shit?” Yoongi crosses his arms, seeming unaffected by the kisses. Namjoon lowers
his voice, all breathy against his ear. “Perhaps fucking on a bed of roses? How romantic, this is a
story for the grandkids.”

“Asking me to have your children already? I knew you were dirty but wow Joon, have some
shame.”

“Don’t get those thoughts into my head.” Namjoon dares to bite at Yoongi’s neck in retaliation,
making him yelp. Before he knows it, Namjoon is being shoved down against the bed and kissed
so thoroughly that he can’t help but groan. Yoongi’s tongue licks into his mouth, feral but still soft.
Namjoon has spent the majority of the past decade daydreaming about that sweet little mouth, he
should’ve expected it to have the power to render him useless.

All of his brain power is going into kissing Yoongi back, already significantly diminished by the
constant tugging at his hair. Namjoon’s most embarrassing noise yet is made when Yoongi’s ass
suddenly grinds down on him. His fight or flight response should’ve been triggered by being
straddled, but apparently there was too much going on, and now he’s gripping onto Yoongi’s bare
thigh and clawing at his back, trying not to pass out.
His shirt gets tugged off and Yoongi might have read twilight too many times because he
immediately lets loose on Namjoon’s collarbones, biting and sucking and making Namjoon’s voice
all high pitched. He even grabs at Namjoon’s chest as if he were a girl, making him laugh until it
gets cut off by a harder bite.

“Hyung, we have to get changed in rooms with everyone else—ah!” His complaints are interrupted
once again. Yoongi might actually be trying to make him bleed, but the friction of his little thrusts
into Namjoon’s lap make it feel too good to actually hurt. “And poor staff.”

“Good, they’ll know you’re mine.”

His. Namjoon doesn’t want to break the news that no one would know who actually caused these
marks, unless Yoongi continues to be an insatiable little demon at work, which is a thought.

“Didn’t expect you to be so possessive.” He can’t resist giving Yoongi’s ass a little smack as he
speaks. His reaction is enough for Namjoon to feel less humiliated by his current state: whimpering
and hips stuttering and suddenly reaching for the waistband of Namjoon’s sweatpants. Namjoon
grabs his wrists before he can tug them down. “Slow down, hyung.” He’s flustered by the change
of pace, tries to sound soothing but his voice comes out a bit too desperate.

Yoongi kisses at his jaw, still carried away, his full weight lying on Namjoon’s chest now that he
can’t use his hands to hold himself up. Namjoon is reminded of the cause of all of this: Yoongi’s
ropes.

He moves Yoongi’s hands, holds them behind his back, pushes at his shoulder until he’s sitting
upright. Yoongi can probably feel the reaction of Namjoon’s poor dick under his ass when his
hands are let go of but obediently kept in place by choice. There’s a good boy on the tip of
Namjoon’s tongue but he holds it back. For now.

The well-behaved hands stay put at the base of his back when Namjoon runs a hand up his thigh,
his hip, under his baggy hoodie. Yoongi’s skin is hot and his waist is small and Namjoon is
thankful to be lying down when he finally lets himself tug Yoongi’s hoodie off, he’s suddenly
lightheaded.

After all of the songs Namjoon has written in the past decade, all of the books he has read, the
occasional poem, he can’t even think of the right words to describe how pretty Yoongi looks.
They’ve lived together for so long, seen each other naked countless times, but the addition of being
seated in Namjoon’s lap makes some exposed skin hit a lot harder.
His chest is all flushed, pushed out because of his hands behind his back. His nipples have always
fucked Namjoon up, offensively pink. The faint hair trailing down to his waistband looks like an
invitation, it’s hard to choose where to look. The size of Namjoon’s hands sliding up his waist is
overwhelming, paired with the contrast of his own tanned skin against flawless porcelain. The
impatient squirming on Namjoon’s lap only gets worse when he trails up to his chest.

Namjoon sits up, allowing himself to taste his skin. Yoongi closes his eyes, letting out a little
stuttered breath and a real grind of his ass when his nipples are lapped at. Namjoon bites, leaves
some marks in revenge for earlier, feels Yoongi’s hands claw at his sweatpants, still patiently held
behind his back. He’s so well behaved, wasn’t even asked to do it. Namjoon wonders if he’ll keep
it up once the rope is involved, or maybe he’ll get bratty?

“What do you want me to do, hyung?” Namjoon asks, questionably breathless, kissing his way up
to Yoongi’s neck again. It’s hard to resist when it’s so sensitive. If only he could mark it up. “Am I
just gonna tie you up so you can get off on your own?” Yoongi groans, annoyed rather than
anything sexual, but his head is still tilted back for neck kisses. “Hm?”

Namjoon’s lap is left empty when Yoongi stands up instead of responding. He panics, sitting up
and thinking that he’s screwed up, that Yoongi is about to leave him to die from shame on his bed
with a boner.

Rather than abandoning him, he goes to rummage through the drawer of his bedside table. Busy
looking for any anger in his face, Namjoon misses what was brought over until it’s pushed into his
hand. Yoongi stands in front of him, happily watching as he registers what he’s holding.

A bottle of cherry lube, of course.

Yoongi wants to get fucked, or at least fingered, and Namjoon is entirely happy to oblige.

(Also slightly terrified).

Namjoon looks up at his smug face, grips onto his bony hips, and spins him around to face away
from him. Yoongi lets out a little surprised sound but stays put. This means that Namjoon is faced
with Yoongi’s ass, wrapped up in those sinful little shorts like a gift. He only wears them in the
house, like he knows that they’re wholly indecent for the public eye, saved especially for
Namjoon’s suffering. Lucky him.
“Can I touch you, hyung?” Namjoon asks, fingers rubbing at his back dimples, watching him
shiver at his words. Yoongi nods. “You want me to?” He nods again, Namjoon leans in to kiss the
base of his spine, not satisfied with Yoongi’s nonverbal responses. “Tell me.”

Yoongi replies with an entirely bored voice. “I want you to fuck me, Joon.”

Namjoon chokes, not at all prepared for those words, more expecting a response of one syllable.
Yoongi never fails to surprise, he should be used to it by now, and terrified for what will follow. At
least he finally has permission to touch the ass which has taunted him since he was a teenager.

Before he allows himself the privilege of worshipping Yoongi’s body, he looks down to try to
psych himself up. Initially, this faces him with his pathetic boner lewdly straining against his
sweatpants, then he catches sight of the abandoned rope on the floor. How could he forget?

He leans down to pick it up, pulling Yoongi’s wrists back to their previous spot against his butt.
There’s a gasp when the rope makes contact with his skin, his fists clench.

“This okay?” Namjoon asks softly, waiting to start restraining him, wishing he could see his face.

Yoongi hums in assent, then quickly recalls Namjoon’s requirement for verbal responses. “Yes.”
He sounds impatient, Namjoon grins.

“Tell me if you want me to untie you.” He starts to wrap the rope around Yoongi’s wrists, gently,
wanting to be a bit rougher but opting to wait until a time when they’ve properly discussed his
limits. Yoongi lets out a breath when it goes around his stomach, Namjoon clearly doesn’t know
what he’s doing but thinks that the black will at least look pretty against his pale skin when he’s
getting fucked. He can’t resist stroking at his hips as he works his hands around his front, dipping
down the soft happy trail, moving on to frustrate poor Yoongi.

Namjoon wishes that his fascination for bondage went beyond watching porn; Yoongi deserves
some pretty shibari of some sort, but instead receives a clumsy knot around his wrists and stomach,
hesitant and not too tight. He leans in to kiss the base of his spine again, a silent apology.

Thankful that Yoongi is facing away therefore unable to see his face close to drooling, he admires
his unpolished work. A messy job is still enough to make Namjoon’s dick ache in his underwear. It
might be even better than something more careful, it looks desperate, which exactly how he feels.
Yoongi’s back is pale and bony, his thighs are so small, he was right when he said they looked like
they belonged to a girl group member. Namjoon wants to see how they look spread apart by his
hands, pushed up as far as they can go, maybe even bruised. Yoongi’s skin marks up so well, but
it’s too pretty to be called a blank canvas. It’s work of art on its own.

“Feels good? Doesn’t hurt?”

“Feeling good and hurting aren’t mutually exclusive.”

At that sentence, Namjoon finishes tying the knot and stands up, tugging Yoongi roughly against
him by the rope. The gasp in response fuels his confidence, making him eager to see how he’ll
respond to getting touched, what he’ll sound like getting fucked. Another little noise comes out
when Namjoon grazes his teeth over his neck. It’s so hard to resist biting down.

His arms wrap around Yoongi’s torso, rubbing up his soft stomach, up to grab at his jaw, tilting his
head to the side. Being able to manhandle him while his hands are completely helpless has
Namjoon accidentally grinding his dick forward, body acting on its own accord. Yoongi is looking
up into his eyes, trying his best to look challenging but melts against Namjoon’s chest when pulled
in for a messy kiss.

Namjoon pulls back, kisses behind his ear, whispering against it. “You try to tie yourself up and
think about me fucking you? Must be frustrating.” Yoongi either ignores him or his mind is
elsewhere, Namjoon lets it slide after he was so good before. His hands wander: over sensitive
nipples, down to his happy trail, playing with the waistband of his shorts. Yoongi’s ass is inching
back against him, a desperate little thing.

When Yoongi’s shorts are slid down, Namjoon looks down over his shoulder (appreciating their
height difference more than ever), watches his hand finally move towards his crotch. Yoongi is
hard, straining against the front of his boxers and there’s even a wet patch, it is a lot to take in.
Namjoon is thankful to not be on the receiving end of any touches at this moment, there’s no way
that he would last.

At this moment, the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door catches the corner of his eye, and he
can’t resist casually turning their bodies to face it. Yoongi’s eyes are shut, unaware of the view that
Namjoon has just given himself.

Namjoon usually feels awkward and lanky, taking up too much space. He looks so much bigger
with Yoongi leaning his head back on his shoulder, his shoulders look broad and Yoongi looks like
something beyond his wettest dreams. He can’t resist teasing. Running a single finger up from
Yoongi’s balls right to the wet tip, soaking through his underwear. Namjoon bites his neck to hold
back a smile when he feels his dick jerk against the light touch.

“You’re all worked up hyung, I’ve barely even touched you.”

The mirror was a good idea, Namjoon gets to see Yoongi fail to hold back a smile before he
responds. “You say that as if I can’t feel your boner against my ass.” He looks satisfied when
Namjoon awkwardly jerks backwards.

Before Namjoon can regain composure, Yoongi turns around and plants himself down onto his
knees, looking up innocently as if his pretty face isn’t now inches away from Namjoon’s pathetic
erection. Oh no.

Even with his hands tied behind his back, Yoongi manages to end up entirely in control.

Namjoon can’t do anything but gape down at him as he leans forward and plants a chaste kiss right
on his dick through the sweatpants. He’s thankful to be clothed, would have probably came from
the faintest touch otherwise.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Namjoon stutters out, jaw as clenched as his fists.

Yoongi continues to gaze up at him through his eyelashes, as if he’s challenging him to protest as
he slowly begins to mouth at the hard shaft. The incredible feeling of wet through the sweatpants is
nothing in comparison to the sight of Yoongi on his knees, hands tied behind his back, an obedient
contrast to what he’s doing. He hums in faked confusion instead of answering the question.

“I’d take these off, but my hands are tied.”

Namjoon contemplates the proposition of getting his dick sucked by his crush of ten years, the star
of his wet dreams, the very probable love of his life. Then proceeds to consider that he’s about to
nut from light teasing through his sweatpants, and has to make the sad decision to reject.

Yoongi nuzzles against his hand when his hair is softly petted, then gasps oh so cutely when it gets
tugged, forcefully tilting his head back. Namjoon uses his hair to pull him up, standing upright and
clearly shocked by the sudden regain of control. Namjoon finally returns to his seat on the end of
the bed, stopping Yoongi from straddling him, instead on a mission to finally get him naked.

The inclusion of the ropes definitely adds to the excitement of finally hooking his thumbs into the
waistband of Yoongi’s boxers. Yoongi is looking down at him, a position of authority, but his
hands are entirely useless. He just has to stand there, cheeks heating up, as his underwear is peeled
off and left to fall to the ground, entirely forgotten.

Namjoon keeps looking up into his eyes, not yet allowing himself the pleasure of admiring his bare
body, refusing to break eye contact. Yoongi looks back, biting his lip when hands grab at his ass to
pull him in. When Namjoon leans in to kiss Yoongi’s stomach, so close to where they both want
him, Yoongi closes his eyes. He looks frustrated. Namjoon lets himself grin against his skin, earns
a frustrated nose scrunch in response.

“Can you pass me the lube?” Namjoon’s question makes him open his eyes just to roll them.
Namjoon smiles, feels around on the bed to grasp the bottle again, finally lets himself admire the
naked body right in front of him as he gets his fingers wet.

The sight renders him useless for a few moments, resulting in far too much lube on his fingers. He
doesn’t even notice Yoongi looking at him exasperatedly as it drips onto his overpriced sweatpants,
too busy staring in awe.

Just like every other aspect of him, Yoongi’s dick is pretty. Pink, like his elbows and knees, like
his nose when it’s cold and cheeks when he gets complimented too much. It’s perfectly sized, just
like him, cute and kind of small and achingly hard.

Namjoon is glad that he made sure Yoongi stayed standing up, gets to see him all hard and
dripping, hands behind his back, face very much red now. His eyes are closed again, not so
patiently waiting to get touched. Namjoon finally gives in.

He can’t resist taking advantage of the closed eyes, quickly leaning down to take Yoongi’s entire
dick into his mouth. Yoongi squeaks and Namjoon snorts in the least erotic way, laughing with a
mouth full of dick. Namjoon can feel his own dick going through it when he notices that Yoongi’s
arms are squirming, tugging at his restraints already. He soon relents, wincing at the feeling of
lube still dripping off of his hand, awkwardly held in the air.

There’s a more muffled squeak when the far too wet finger slides between Yoongi’s cheeks, he’s
biting his lip to stop himself from making noises, still won’t even open his eyes. His legs
obediently spread a bit, though standing upright is obviously not the best position for this.
Namjoon just teases him a bit, getting him worked up without actually pushing inside, watching
him gradually get frustrated.

Yoongi lets out a loud breath. “Joon.”

“Hm?” Namjoon slips the tip of his finger in at that moment, making Yoongi gasp rather than grit
his teeth. If he weren’t tied up, Yoongi probably would’ve pinned him down and had his way, and
while that’s definitely an idea for the future, Namjoon is delighted to have the chance to take his
time to unravel his very wound up hyung. “Want me to finger you?”

“Want you to fuck me, actually.”

“Oh?” As Namjoon speaks, he slides the finger all the way in. Yoongi lets out a little choked off
moan, knees buckling briefly, but he stays upright.

“I’ve asked a few times, did you not hear me?”

Namjoon laughs, sets himself a mission to ruin Yoongi to the point of not being able to talk back
so much. He starts by tugging him back into his lap, immediately pushing his finger deeper and
starting to fuck him with it properly.

Yoongi is clearly trying his best to be quiet, hiding his face to painfully bite down on Namjoon’s
shoulder. It feels like revenge. Namjoon laughs again, curls his finger until Yoongi releases his
skin and wetly gasps, hips jolting.

“Feels good?” Namjoon asks, voice low, wishing he could see Yoongi’s face, which nods against
his shoulder. That won’t do.

He grips Yoongi’s hair, yanking his head back as he pushes a second finger in. Apparently, the
combination of hair pulling and being stuffed full without warning is enough to make Yoongi stop
holding back. Namjoon looks into his eyes, smiling at the sight. Yoongi’s mouth his open, eyes
lidded, eyebrows furrowed, finally whimpering. It’s adorable.

“Are you gonna answer me?”

“Yes, fuck. If you don’t stop I’m gonna—”

“Already?” Namjoon teases and earns himself a half-hearted glare which would be much more
intimidating if Yoongi weren’t tied up and already looking so wrecked.

It’s impossible to resist licking into Yoongi’s panting mouth while it’s so invitingly hanging open.
Kissing makes him louder, cute muffled whines which make it hard to focus on anything else.
Namjoon can feel Yoongi’s dick leaking against his bare stomach, wishes it were in his mouth
again, then comes up with a better idea before he finishes too fast.

More thankful than ever for the time he spends suffering in the gym, Namjoon grabs Yoongi’s
thighs and manages to stand up from the bed. Yoongi’s gasp as he gets lifted up goes straight to
Namjoon’s ego, but sadly does not grant superhuman strength, so he is quickly deposited back onto
the bed.

“Didn’t know you had it in you.” Yoongi says, looking amused and shuffling up the bed until his
head reaches the pillows despite the lack assistance from his arms. Namjoon crawls towards him,
gripping his legs again.

“Had what? The ability to lift you up?”

Before he can answer, Yoongi gets flipped over so his face is buried in the pillow. He grunts
loudly, being manoeuvred to prop himself up on his knees, starts to complain but gets cut off
quickly by a tongue against his ass.

Namjoon takes pleasure in the shocked splutter he hears at his first lick. Unsurprisingly, Yoongi is
consistently pink here too: cute and blushy and fittingly cherry flavoured thanks to the lube. It’s
sad to not be able to see his facial expression, but the sight of his hands clutching at the base of his
back, clearly wishing they had something to grip onto, is satisfying enough for now.

Yoongi is opting to stubbornly keep his face hidden in the pillow, which probably isn’t the most
comfortable choice. He’s making muffled, pathetic little noises as he gets eaten out—biting the
pillow, overwhelmed. Namjoon keeps going, works his tongue inside, pins his ankles down when
they lift up off the bed. He picks up the lube and stuffs him with fingers again, admiring the sight
Yoongi taking him so well.

Carried away rubbing at his prostate, mouth now paying attention to his balls, Namjoon doesn’t
register how loud Yoongi is getting, going from squirming to straight out thrashing on the bed. He
clenches around his fingers, tensing up and curling his toes and—

“Nam—joon, ah!”

Yoongi comes a lot faster than Namjoon expected, whining from pleasure and probably
embarrassment as he spills onto the bedsheets. Namjoon coos.

“That was fast, hyung.” He teases, keeps gently rubbing him inside to watch him squirm, fists
clenched behind his back and face hiding in the pillow. Yoongi grumbles, tries to move away from
the incessant touching. Namjoon grips his hair again, yanking his head back to whisper in his ear.
“What was that?”

“Fuck off.”

Yoongi turns his head, Namjoon then learns that he might look his prettiest after he finishes:
cheeks flushed, lips bitten. There’s not enough time to fully admire this before Namjoon is being
kissed, all tongue and teeth. Yoongi might be trying to get revenge, biting his lip far too hard,
Namjoon snickers into his mouth and gets glared at when he pulls away.

“Still want me to fuck you, or are you worn out?” Namjoon asks, punctuating it by rubbing his still
clothed crotch against Yoongi, the contrast of their states of undress is yet another unexpected
thing to make Namjoon’s cock throb in distress. Yoongi looks into his eyes, brows furrowed as if
he actually has to contemplate it.

“Go ahead.”

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head. Yoongi gets flipped over immediately, back slamming onto the
bed, legs pushed up to his shoulders, a perfect position for Namjoon to rut against him again.
Despite the very recent orgasm, Yoongi continues to be frustrated by teasing, lifting his hips up and
pouting.

“You just came, why are you so worked up?” Namjoon asks, mockingly returning the pout while
he runs a thumb over his hyung’s tip. Yoongi jolts before he can respond, oversensitive cock
getting gently touched, making him squirm and shake his head. He’d be trying to push Namjoon’s
hands away if he could. “Want me to stop touching you?”
Yoongi nods and Namjoon stops entirely, pulling back to sit up. Yoongi groans. “You know what I
meant.”

“Do I?” Namjoon asks, entirely smug as he admires Yoongi’s naked body beneath him, stomach
still wet with come. Yoongi closes his legs, trying to block the view. “Just don’t want me to touch
your poor little dick?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen at those words, shaking his head again. Namjoon himself is surprised by
what he just said. He rubs at Yoongi’s knees, encouraging them to open again, running his hands
down the soft inner thighs which part oh so obediently.

“You’d rather I touched here?” He slips a thumb down to where he’s still dripping with lube.
Yoongi inhales loudly when his rim is touched, looking up and finally nodding. Namjoon leans
down to kiss him sweetly. “You’re all wet, like a girl.” He chooses the moment that Yoongi rolls
his eyes to slide his thumb inside, quickly learning that his new favourite thing is interrupting his
snark with various sexual acts.

“Hurry up.” Yoongi punctuates his demand by lifting his hips, dick somehow already getting hard
again and rubbing against Namjoon’s stomach. When he doesn’t give in, he feels a hard bite on his
shoulder, hard enough to make him hiss and pull back, glaring down at a now smug face.

“You didn’t get any condoms out?”

Yoongi’s smugness is suddenly gone, avoiding eye contact. Namjoon is confused, worried that he
has none and he’ll have to venture to his own bedroom with a hard on. He’d probably bump into
Jimin or something, knowing his luck.

“Can we, uh—not?” Oh.

“Oh. Are you sure?” Yoongi nods, Namjoon nods back, they’re just looking at each other until
Yoongi lifts his hips again, reminding Namjoon of his own very neglected erection. Namjoon
grabs them, so delicate, pinning them to the bed. “Want me to come inside you?” At those words,
Yoongi lets out an accidental noise, Namjoon raises his eyebrows.

“Am I ever getting to see your dick?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows raise higher. “I’m pretty sure you’ve seen it too many times, we’ve lived
together for a while.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes harder, Namjoon interrupts him again. This time, by pulling down the
waistband of his sweatpants, followed by his underwear.

It works. Yoongi’s eyes widen, staring downwards as Namjoon awkwardly clambers out of his
clothing, feeling overly exposed even though the man beneath him is tied up, legs spread and
entirely revealed.

“What the fuck.” Yoongi mutters, eyes entirely focused, Namjoon follows his gaze. He can feel his
cheeks heating up, but his dick is blushing more: obscene and leaking and oh god—they’re pressed
against one another, his thighs touching the underside of Yoongi’s. Their cocks are far too close
and the only thought present in Namjoon’s head is their size difference.

It’s his turn to lean over and cover Yoongi’s eyes with his hands in an attempt to stop blushing.
“Shut up!”

“You can easily make me.” Yoongi smiles.

Namjoon almost squeaks when Yoongi lifts his hips for the third time. It’s like a kiss when the wet
tip brushes against his own, and that’s the final straw; he needs to fuck Yoongi. Fumbling,
Namjoon manages to relocate the lube, once again using far too much. It drips down right onto
Yoongi, who is still trying to get some friction.

It feels like time stops when he finally pushes up a pale leg, shakily nudging himself forwards.
Namjoon is fixated on the sight of his dick making contact with the pink rim, all wet and waiting
not so patiently. Between Yoongi’s legs might be his favourite place in the world. He’s going slow,
barely pushing in, taking in the subdued pleasure of such a faint touch.

Unsurprisingly, Yoongi is trying to shift himself closer, trying to get Namjoon inside. It’s cute.

The sight of his hyung all desperate makes Namjoon want to go even slower, to see how much he
can draw this out. Or maybe he just knows that he’ll come as soon as he actually starts fucking.

The feeling of slipping into warmth paired with sound of the sweetest little mewl from beneath him
forces him to halt again, turning Yoongi’s soft noise into a frustrated growl.

“Puh-put it inside.”

“Be patient.” Namjoon manages to laugh.

“Shouldn’t have let you tie me up.”

“Oh? Do you want me to untie you?” Namjoon suddenly pushes in deeper as he asks the question.
It successfully shuts Yoongi up as he shakes his head, other than an undignified hiccup as
Namjoon’s hips reach his butt. He looks his prettiest when stuffed full, legs kicking in shock. He
looks as overwhelmed as Namjoon feels. Hooking his legs over his arms, Namjoon falls forward,
held up by his hands on either side of Yoongi’s head. “Think you can take it?” (Namjoon can
barely take it himself).

This might finally be the moment when Yoongi can’t talk back. Namjoon leans down to kiss him,
basking in the sight of his gasping face, all flushed.

“Are—” Yoongi starts to respond, gets interrupted by Namjoon grinding as deep as he can, not yet
thrusting, just teasing from the inside. “You’re just asking that because you know you’re gonna
come too fast.”

Namjoon snorts. Gripping the back of Yoongi’s thighs and keeping them held up, the only warning
he gives before pulling out and slamming back in. Yoongi moans. Properly, back arched, more
obscene than Namjoon’s dreams. At that reaction, Namjoon doesn’t give him any time to recover.

“I’m gonna come too fast?” Namjoon mocks, letting go of a thigh to reach down, pawing at
Yoongi’s dick which is significantly harder and more wet than before. “You just came but you’re
still leaking all over yourself, look.”

Yoongi gapes, lifts his head up to look down at where he’s dribbling onto his stomach. He shuts
his eyes immediately, slamming his head back onto the pillow and whimpering, pushing up into
the thrusts. If his hands were free, he’d probably be covering his face. The ropes continue to be a
gift to Namjoon’s existence.

Grabbing his hyung’s hips to stop him from writhing, Namjoon is once again faced with the stark
contrast of his large hands on such a delicate waist. “Fuck,” Namjoon pants, using the grip to fuck
him harder. “You’re so fucking small.”

Despite being railed so hard, Yoongi is still visibly embarrassed by such a comment, turning his
head to try to hide against the pillow. Namjoon vows to up his dirty talk.

“Ah-ah,” Namjoon tuts. “I want to see your pretty face, hyung.” He grips his jaw, forcing him to
make eye contact again. The view of a fucked-out Yoongi in addition to the constant physical
pleasure makes Namjoon feel like a bit he’s drowning; it’s hard to breathe.

He’s so deep that he’s surprised he can’t see the outline through Yoongi’s stomach. A few years
ago, when Yoongi was even smaller, he probably would’ve. Namjoon didn’t even think he had a
size kink before, Yoongi just has a way of fucking up his mind in every possible way.

Before he knows it, his hand is moving to press down at his stomach, right where he knows his
dick is reaching. Yoongi looks down again, splutters when he realises what he’s doing.

“Can you feel me right here?” Namjoon asks, all soft like Yoongi is too dumb to understand,
slowing his thrusts but grinding as deep as possible. Yoongi pants out a sweet little yuh-yes. “Bet
you’ll feel it when I come.”

Namjoon wishes he could draw this out: see how desperate Yoongi can get, but he lacks the
willpower. Yoongi feels too good. He slides his hand up from his stomach, teasing at his nipples on
the way up, appreciating the hickeys he left, stopping at his throat. He rubs his thumb over it, so
gently, but his mind is filled with a sudden urge to—

“Do it.” Yoongi interrupts his thoughts, looking up at him expectantly. Namjoon has slowed his
thrusts enough for him to be more coherent, able to speak properly again. Do it?

Namjoon looks down at his hand, resting at the base of Yoongi’s delicate neck. Oh shit.

“Do—what?” Namjoon wasn’t even consciously implying such a thing, but Yoongi is pleading
with his eyes, always so hesitant to say what he really wants, yet asking for this.

Yoongi keeps looking up at him, suddenly shameless. “Choke me, Joon-ah.” At those words,
Namjoon’s hips stutter, along with his ability to think. “Please.”
Namjoon complies, nodding stupidly, entirely controlled by the one who is tied up. He inches his
hand upwards, around his neck. It’s soft at first, thumb rubbing affectionately. Yoongi shudders,
holding eye contact, lifting his hips to remind Namjoon that he has entirely stopped fucking him by
now, too entranced by what Yoongi has asked for.

Once he starts to squeeze, adding pressure to the sides of his neck, Yoongi’s eyelids flutter shut.
Namjoon moves his hips again and it feels like even more than before, too much. The power
handed to him with such an act is overwhelming. He keeps it gentle, probably far weaker than
Yoongi wants, but he wants to be sure that he’s still able to tell him to stop if he needs to. They can
try again in the future, try all of the fucked up things he wants, Namjoon will give Yoongi
anything at all.

“Feel good?”

Yoongi nods as much as he can with a hand wrapped around his throat. “Mhm.” His answer comes
out as a whimper.

“Look at me.” Namjoon demands for the second time, fucking him harder again, using his free
hand to grip his waist. As soon as Yoongi’s eyes open, they roll back. He looks sinful, dazed,
biting his lip far too hard, clearly trying to keep himself quiet. Namjoon grumbles, annoyed that
he’s still holding himself back despite getting fucked and choked.

To stop Yoongi from keeping his mouth shut, Namjoon opts to shove his fingers in it. One hand
around his neck, the other holding his mouth open.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, two fingers pushing down on his tongue. “Pretty.” At Namjoon’s
compliment, he lets out a pathetic moan, interrupted by a squeeze to his throat. His face is all pink,
his mouth is all pink; the hickeys on his chest are a bit darker, all sore like his neglected cock. He
keeps whining as he gets fucked, drool spilling out of his mouth as it’s held open, even tries to
choke out Namjoon’s name. “That’s it, taking me so well, hyung.”

Namjoon doesn’t know how he’s even managing to speak, he feels more fucked up than Yoongi
looks, very much on his way towards finishing. While he’s still able to, he wants to get see how
much he can get a reaction out of his hyung.

Spreading his wet fingers to expose Yoongi’s tongue, Namjoon leans downwards, as if he’s going
for a kiss. Yoongi anticipates it. Instead, Namjoon smiles darkly, and spits directly into his open
mouth.

The noise he earns is enough to make him laugh, releasing Yoongi’s neck and vacating his fingers
from his mouth. He pushes his jaw shut, slaps him on the cheek lightly.

“Good boy.”

Yoongi swallows obediently, shock clear in his eyes, and proceeds to come all over himself.

He yelps, they’re both surprised by it; he gets even more tight and it’s suffocating. Namjoon has to
stop thrusting as he rides it out, kissing Yoongi sweetly, caging him in with his arms. He’s shaking
beneath him, all sensitive and coming down from his orgasm, keeps making sweet little content
sounds and can barely kiss back. It’s so cute that Namjoon almost forgets that he was just on the
brink of finishing, too.

There are tears in his eyes when Namjoon pulls back. He’s about to ask if he’s okay, but Yoongi
speaks first.

“Keep going.”

“You came twice.” Namjoon protests, stroking at his sides gently, trying his best to hold back the
need to fuck into him as hard as he can. Yoongi pouts up at him, tries to grind down onto his dick
and visibly shudders at the feeling.

As usual, Namjoon quickly gives in. His self-control around Yoongi has been proven to be lacking
far too many times in one day. It feels more intimate now, more intense, they’re so close and he’s
so deep. If he had more patience, he would untie Yoongi, wanting to feel his hands on him. To
make up for it, he slides a hand under his waist, pressing their chests together and grinding as deep
as he can.

His orgasm is unravelling itself, unravelling him. The pleasure is too much, he shudders, mind
foggy, biting Yoongi’s skin. He groans, drowning in the tightness and the sound of breathy curses
against his ear. “Fuck, Joon. Want to feel it, need you.”

Namjoon is weak, pleading from Yoongi is more than enough to end him. He moans, unashamed,
biting too hard and rutting desperately as he’s hit with an orgasm which renders him useless. The
knowledge that he’s coming deep inside of Yoongi, filling him up, makes the pleasure even more
intense. He thinks that he might black out, shuddering pathetically and finally releasing the poor
shoulder from his teeth, kissing it in apology.

“That was cute.” Yoongi speaks after they have a chance to stop panting.

Namjoon manages to lift himself up, kissing Yoongi before he starts the task of untying him. “Are
you okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes but can’t hold back a smile. “It was good, Joon. Didn’t think you had it in
you.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Namjoon complains, rolling him over and undoing the
messy knots. “You have come on your back.” They both start laughing, struggle to stop.

Like the gentleman he is, Namjoon goes to the kitchen to get them water after he cuddles Yoongi
until he’s forced out of bed. He encounters a grinning Jimin and a blushing Jungkook, gets
congratulated, informing him that Yoongi’s walls are thinner than he thought.

Namjoon pauses when he returns to the bedroom, unsure of how he should act now, wondering if
he’ll be allowed to keep kissing him, or even get back into his bed. Yoongi is sprawled out, rolls
his eyes, as if reading his mind.

“I meant it, you know.” He sounds surprisingly hesitant.

“Uh, meant what?” Namjoon says, standing stupidly with two glasses of water.

“I wasn’t just trying to fuck you, I meant it. I’m yours, Joon, always have been.” He sits up, reaches
for the glasses of water and sets them on the bedside table, before reaching for Namjoon, tugging
him forward. Yoongi is still naked, Namjoon can’t really think, but it sounds like he was just told
exactly what he always wished to hear, and never thought he would.

“So it really is romance founded upon bondage? That’s adorable.”

 Yoongi glares at him, pulling him down onto the bed and climbing on top of him. He seems to be a
big fan of Namjoon’s lap.

“Are you making fun of me right now? I heard you got a hard-on when I was tied up on set.”

End Notes

why can't i be consistent with power dynamics who knows

my twitter and curiouscat if u want to give me the insults i deserve

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