Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hoseok fishes around in his pocket and produces a pair of intertwined zipties. He lobs them at Yoongi, who fumbles to catch them, eyes widening when he understands.

Damn. Yoongi's been in quite a variety of restrictive binds, but none as crude as basic plastic zipties. Cheap ones from the hardware store at that, if Yoongi has to trust the off-white, vaguely translucent material. If anything gives off contemptuous vibes, it's having your sub tie himself up with crappy stuff. Yoongi bites his lower lip to stop the snarky comment from escaping. Had it been Jin facing him, he probably would have just chucked the offending item right back at his face and demanded premium leather cuffs (which he wouldn't have gotten, but that's beside the point). Thing is, it's not Jin facing him. It's Hoseok. It's Hoseok and if Yoongi wants this whole thing to go according to plan, he knows he had better keep his mouth shut. So he swallows back the sass, jots down one mental tally mark to remember he owes Hobi a bit of bratty behaviour next time they're together, and gets back to the task at hand. (At hand. Heh.)

"In front of you," Hoseok says when Yoongi starts to reach behind his back.

Slowly, peering at him through his lashes, Yoongi threads his wrists through the ties and extends his arms so Hoseok can tighten them. All he gets is a derisive scoff.

"Use your mouth."

Yoongi blinks. His eyes stray to Namjoon, but the second dom is slouching in his chair, looking almost bored if not for the obvious bulge in his trousers. At Hobi's light throat clearing, Yoongi startles and focuses back on him, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Sorry," he whispers automatically.

It's not quite practical, but he manages to pull on the ties with his teeth, tightening them around his wrists. He gives himself a bit of wiggle room, just enough that the thin plastic can slide around without cutting off the bloodstream in his hands, then shows Hoseok for inspection.

"Good. Now off you go."

There's something about the way Hoseok treats him that never fails to make Yoongi choke on arousal. The dismissal in his tone, so close to gentle it's sharper than steel, like a silk-covered blade—none of the other doms in Yoongi's life have that skill. Not that Yoongi can really compare them; Jin, Hobi and Namjoon all have different ways of dealing with him.

Jin is probably the least forgiving. He's the one who truly enjoys Yoongi's brattiness, because he's the one who gets off on punishing him the most. He enjoys the power Yoongi gives him. He enjoys the way Yoongi craves his anger, welcomes it, fuels it.

Namjoon… Namjoon expects complete and unquestionable submission. He's an artist with a vision and he will not have a brat disrupt his creative process. Yoongi learned to quell his rebellious tendencies pretty quickly with him, discovering he could enjoy letting go without a fight. Each time he thinks about it, it amuses him to find that Namjoon is ever the teacher, even outside of a fancy science classroom. Hobi definitely knows about Namjoon's teaching qualities, too…

Speaking of Hobi—he's yet another kind of dom. It's like Yoongi being a brat doesn't even reach him. He laughs at it, like Yoongi's attempts at throwing him off are as useless as a teaspoon of water in the face of wildfire. He doesn't need a reason to hurt Yoongi. Doesn't need a reason to give him a sly smirk and throw him a pair of fucking zipties and send him off to hook himself on the peg on the wall with barely a nod.

"What do you reckon, Joon, front or back?"

Namjoon makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. Yoongi slows his walk to the wall, his throat fluttering with the need to swallow hard.

"Front, for now, I think," Namjoon answers slowly, his deep voice thoughtful. "Thighs?"

"Ribs?" Hoseok counters with a gleam in his eyes.

Yoongi swallows. He's in for a ride today. Not that he didn't see it coming. (Not that he didn't make sure it would happen.) When he reaches the wall, he turns so he faces his doms again, and glues his back to the cool paint. He'd be shivering if his blood wasn't feverishly coursing through his body (mostly southward). The smile on Hoseok's face as he watches is smug as shit, as Yoongi extends his arms over his head and tries to get the junction between the ties to catch on the peg. He has to lift himself on his tiptoes, head tilted back to aim, already panting with the effort. When he finally manages to slide over the hook and get his feet flat on the floor, a slightly breathless laugh escapes his mouth. Clearly this peg was designed for someone a tad taller than he is; his heels aren't quite resting on the hardwood boards, and the plastic of the zipties is already digging into his skin. It's hardly a comfortable position. Stretched taut, wholly naked, vulnerable— Yoongi chokes on his next breath, swallows, clenches the muscles in his abdomen to keep from pulling too much on his arms. It wouldn't do to get a cramp too soon. Not when he's standing there, right where he's been craving to be ever since Namjoon and Hoseok started that wicked game of theirs. Right where he knows he's finally going to get what he wants, what they've been discussing at length in the previous months, in between bouts of voluntarily frustrating sex.

Yoongi's so horny he feels on the verge of combustion. Wound so tight he could snap any second. So hard already, when all he's done since he entered the room is undress under two pairs of watchful, slightly disinterested eyes. And yet he knows he’s far from any kind of release.

Hoseok walks over to Yoongi, casually, like he's got all the time in the world. Yoongi drinks in the sight of him, the crisp white button down left open at the throat, the tight pair of jeans, the golden tan of his slim feet on the dark wood—and then back upwards, the lithe line of his arms, the delicate hands, the pretty lips, the dark dark eyes full of promises—

"Hello," Hoseok whispers, suddenly very close to Yoongi. Not quite touching, but close enough that he can feel the warmth of Hoseok's body radiating over to his own. A gentle finger glides slowly down the length of his arm, from his bound wrist to his clavicle, and then on his torso, flicking a nipple on its way to his belly. Yoongi has to suppress a shiver; quite unsuccessfully, if he has to trust Hoseok's smirk. "Alright over here?"

Yoongi nods, throat dry.

"Yeah."

"Remember what we discussed?"

Another nod.

"I've been thinking of little else," Yoongi answers, his voice low and raspy, poorly contained impatience seeping through his words.

Hoseok laughs, pinches the soft skin of Yoongi's waist, dragging his nails lower to graze over a hip bone.

"I bet," he teases. "Been keeping score, maybe? You're petty like that."

Yoongi can't help it, he rises to the bait. He is petty like that.

"You know I have. Three—zero for you. Three—one for Namjoon."

Hoseok raises a brow, gives a glance back to Namjoon, who's still pretending to read in his chair.

"One?" Hoseok asks him.

Namjoon shrugs, turns his page.

"That's on Jin," he replies without ever raising his eyes. "Walked in on us. Apparently the look on his face when he took in the scene was enough for Yoongi to lose control."

Hoseok giggles, turns to Yoongi again, pokes his breastbone playfully. Like they're just having a cheerful conversation between friends, like Yoongi's not tied up and barely touching ground, like they're not talking about the number of orgasms Joon and Hobi got from him over the last months versus how many he got in return.

"Cute," Hoseok smiles. "Jin's just that beautiful, huh?"

Yoongi would agree if he wasn't actively trying not to recall in what position exactly Jin found him with Namjoon. Not to recall all those times he found himself with either Joon or Hobi and—shit, he has to focus. If he remembers all the accumulated need he just might go mad. But then Hoseok is always here for him, as he helpfully lifts Yoongi's chin with a finger and makes him look into his eyes.

"Nice memories, are they?"

"Yeah," Yoongi breathes.

"Gonna be good for us again? Hold on to your self-control?"

Yoongi struggles not to close his eyes in anticipation. God. Fuck. He dearly hopes he'll be allowed to come at least once tonight, despite his slip-up the day Jin inadvertently interrupted Yoongi's successful streak. Though if that happens, he has no doubt he'll be begging for it long before it does. But if this game of denial has taught him anything over the last months, it's definitely patience.

"Yeah," he answers breathlessly.

"Good," Hoseok murmurs, before he turns to Namjoon and cocks his head to the side. "Joonie, this is a nice belt you got here. Mind lending it to me?"

Namjoon finally lifts his eyes from his book. He looks only mildly interested, but the ghost of a smirk hovers on his lips. Oh, it is on. Yoongi tries to regulate his breathing. Hoseok's careful, cutting gentleness and Namjoon's contempt are making him burn inside with the need to be good and obey and please, with the need to see them treat him as they want, like a toy, like a thing, use him, strip him of dignity and free will—

"I would, but what's going to hold my trousers?" Namjoon's voice interrupts the wild spiral of his thoughts.

Hoseok gives a mean chuckle.

"Won't need your trousers for long, don't worry."

Namjoon slowly gets up from his chair, makes a show of putting his book down and stretching, prowls more than walks all the way to Hoseok. He stands before him, arms along his body, not making a move. If the tension between the two were any thicker, Yoongi would choke on it.

"Take what you need, then," Namjoon says, lifting a challenging brow.

Hoseok kisses him on the lips, short and filthy, and his hands fly to unbuckle Namjoon's leather belt. Yoongi shivers. Hoseok has always been a dom to him, and tonight—through the whole game really—he and Namjoon have been on equal grounds. Still,  there's this sliver of a taunt between them, the tacit attempts to one up each other, and it makes Yoongi feel even more like he's just part of the furniture.

Namjoon's belt drags through the loops with a soft sound, the sigh of leather on fabric, the delicate clink of the buckle smothered against Hoseok's palm. Yoongi holds his breath as Hoseok carefully folds the strip of leather in half, securing both ends into his right fist. He whips it through the air, a faint whistle accompanying the movement.

"Adequate," Hoseok murmurs. "Want to sit back down, Joon? Or you want to have a close look?"

Joon laughs quietly.

"I'm gonna stay close, thanks. I wanna be able to touch."

"Good call," Hoseok grins. "Yoongi makes the prettiest noises when you hurt him just right."

"I'll leave the hurting to you," Namjoon says. "I'll be there to soothe."

Hoseok hums. All three of them know that touching a freshly hit spot doesn't soothe much, rather the contrary, but none of them call out the lie. Namjoon isn't as much of a sadist as Hoseok is, but he likes to watch and touch and assess how hard Hoseok goes. It's fucked up and painful and Yoongi can't fucking wait for it to happen. Yoongi pushes on his toes to relieve a bit of the tension in his arms; he knows soon he won't be able to count on his legs supporting him.

"Smart boy," Hoseok chuckles, seeing him stretch and wait and pant. "You ready, baby? What's your colour?"

"Green," Yoongi says, so fast he almost chokes on the word. "I'm green, I'm ready, I'm so ready, please."

"Eager," Namjoon smirks. He traces a fingertip along Yoongi's clavicle—the first contact is so soft, barely there. Then his finger goes down, brushes over a nipple, and then to the side, down along Yoongi's ribs, until it settles right above the last one, right above the soft dip of Yoongi's waist. "Here," he says, and this time he's talking to Hobi.

He takes a step back. Hoseok stands in his spot. Gently, so gently, he strokes Yoongi's skin with the leather belt, right where Namjoon indicated.

"Don't hold back your voice, pretty thing," he coos. 

And then he hits. The smack of leather on skin is louder than Yoongi's gasp. It stings, but the first hit is always milder than the following ones. Still, Yoongi feels himself drifting already, yearning for more.

"Other side now," Namjoon breathes.

Hoseok complies. Yoongi gasps again, still low enough that the sound gets lost.

"Again, a bit higher."

Both sides come in twin slaps—this time Yoongi coughs, a bit louder. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing, fails.

"Again."

"Ah—!"

"There it is," Hoseok muses, satisfaction in his tone. "Where now, Joonie?"

Joonie hums thoughtfully. He steps up to Yoongi, glides fingers on his ribs, where red marks are already blooming. Yoongi's skin is so pale, the slightest impact brings colour to the surface.

"Does it hurt, baby?" Namjoon asks, his nails just barely scratching the sensitive spots.

"A, a bit," Yoongi pants. "Want more. Please."

"Oh, don't worry. Hobi isn't done with you. Thighs, Hobi?"

Hoseok casually palms Namjoon's crotch through his trousers, earning a quiet intake of breath and a low groan.

"Gladly. Spread your legs a bit, darling," he adds for Yoongi.

Yoongi obeys as best as he can, but it's hard to maintain his balance. The zipties dig into his wrists, slightly, a promise of the harsher bite to come. It's just the beginning, really.

Without warning, the belt lands on his thighs. Slap, slap, slap, slap, quite high up, right on top and then licking closer to his delicate inner thighs. The impacts burn, sharp and glowing across his skin. By the time Hoseok pauses, Yoongi has gone from gasps to almost-shouts.

"Alright, baby?"

Yoongi has to swallow and clear his throat before he can answer a raspy "yes". Hoseok doesn't start hitting again right away, choosing instead to brush the belt against the sensitive spots, and then up, up until the leather is right underneath Yoongi's balls, barely touching, just a promise (just a threat), and then higher, stroking the length of his erection, a drop of precome staining the belt as a ripple of pleasure runs through Yoongi.

"Now, now, you can't damage Joon's good belt," Hoseok chastises him like Yoongi is the one at fault, and makes him lick the droplet before it fully sinks into the leather.

It's always odd, tasting himself, feeling his own arousal on his tongue, however faintly. He's more used to tasting others. His eyes drop to Hoseok's crotch, to Namjoon's, wondering how-when-if he'll be able to taste them. To touch them. To feel them on him and in him.

Namjoon steps closer once more, gets his hands all over Yoongi's thighs, kneading the reddening flesh with reverence.

"Beautiful," he murmurs. "Shall we do the back now, Hobi?"

Hoseok raises a brow, gives Yoongi a wicked grin, and makes a swift twirling motion with his index finger. Yoongi's eyes widen. He pushes himself onto his toes again, feels his legs wobble under the strain, nearly loses his footing as he tries to spin on the spot. He catches himself with his elbow against the wall, quietly cries out in pain at the impact and the way the zip ties grind into his skin. Some part of him knows the plastic would break, should he fall over; it's not strong enough to withhold his whole weight brutally pulling on it. Still. Even if he knows his doms would catch him, he's not too keen on falling. Clenching his jaw, he manages to finish turning around. Forehead pressing against the wall, shoulders stretched backwards and up, he pants hard. It's just a little bit easier to stand this way, as his weight naturally leans on his toes rather than his heels. For now, at least. His knees are still trembling and he knows it's only a matter of time before they give out.

Soon, the belt is back on his skin, grazing the junction between ass and thigh.

"I want him blossoming," Namjoon says quietly. "Reds and pinks all over."

Hoseok hums. There's a hushed whisper, but Yoongi only recognises the gentle timbre of his voice, unable to make out the words. Whatever it is he just said, it makes Namjoon chuckle.

"Sure," he agrees. "That'll be pretty."

"Some may get on your belt, though," Hoseok says, some kind of apologetic warning in his tone.

Namjoon laughs softly again.

"You know I don't mind, right? I'll just stop wearing that belt to work."

"I'm taking this as permission to be messy," Hoseok drops casually, and suddenly it's not the harsh slap of leather Yoongi feels on his skin, but the cool and slick dripping of lube.

He barely has time to take a breath before a hand spreads him wide and the tip of a finger glides along his cleft, dragging against his slippery skin until it reaches his hole.

"Push in," Namjoon demands, orders, grunts, and Hoseok hums.

"Want me to be rough about that, too?" Hoseok confirms, his fingertip toying and teasing round and round his entrance.

"Yeah. I want him to cry. You gonna cry for us, love?" Namjoon asks, gently patting the cheek Hoseok is not kneading.

Yoongi tries to answer, but he ends up choking on a moan as Hoseok thrusts his finger inside him, right to the knuckle, and curls it downward.

"A—ah!"

"Like that, Joonie?" Hoseok muses, and then pulls out just to push back in deep and hard.

Yoongi shouts. The intrusion burns, and yet he feels how careful Hoseok is underneath the harsh pace. By now his mind has entirely surrendered; he lets his body welcome Hoseok's relentless fingerfucking. It's not like he's unused to it anyway.

"Just like that," Joon growls. "Give him more."

Yoongi's mostly dead brain finds this suspiciously generous, but he's not about to complain, crying out instead as a second finger joins the first without too much warning. He pushes back against Hoseok's hand, as much as he can considering his position, distantly hears how hoarse his voice gets as Hoseok stretches and probes without mercy.

"Fuck, he's pretty," Namjoon breathes. "Taking you like that. Can I…"

The question goes unsaid, but Yoongi suddenly feels another finger prod at his hole, a thicker finger that clearly doesn't belong to the hand already at work on him nor the one holding him.

"Yes," Yoongi rasps, "yes, please, please, give it to me please—"

This breach is more painful than the first two. Yoongi almost sobs at the feeling of being stretched taut, breath coming short, whimpers lodging themselves in his throat.

"More more moremoremore," he whines, high-pitched and broken, eyes burning with tears already, and then the three fingers find a rhythm and they start fucking him with a purpose, and Yoongi actually screams when they suddenly brush his prostate. "There," he manages, barely intelligible, "oh god," and then he stops trying to speak because all his mouth does is drool onto his own chin and pant and shout.

It's when a fourth finger—Namjoon's, probably—starts to join the dance that Yoongi realises how close he is to the edge. How close he is, and how difficult it's going to be to hold back.

"I'm—" he tries, and chokes on his own spit. Until now the fingers mostly followed a thrusting pattern, in, out, in again, relentless and pounding his sweet spot with a vengeance, but now they're scissoring. Spreading apart, two on each side, hooked into Yoongi's hole and steadily stretching him. And then back to fucking him, harder. "I'm close," he babbles, desperate already, his cock begging for attention, leaking and pulsing and ready to burst.

And then there's a dark chuckle behind him, Hoseok's amusement clear, and Namjoon's low, velvety voice close to Yoongi's ear.

"It's fine, love. What was the score again? Three-zero, three-one? Time to make it even," he drawls.

It's when Yoongi fails to hold back that he understands. The moment he screws his eyes shut and screams, his body seizing up, he knows he's in for more than he expected.

.

It takes a couple minutes for his breath to come back to approximately normal and for his eyes to cooperate again. It takes only a couple seconds after that to realise that he still very much has four fingers up his ass—thankfully unmoving for now—and that his cock is still mostly hard. The wall in front of him is painted in pearly-clear liquid.

"You okay, baby?"

Hoseok's voice is soft, soft as the kiss dropping on top of his ear. Yoongi's jaw works open, but he has no clue what to say. Not that he doesn't know what his answer would be, but words are a foreign concept right now. He nods, hoping it'll be enough.

"We need words, sweetheart," Namjoon cajoles him.

Yoongi's lips tug into half a smile. 

"Green," he whispers. "Sensitive," he adds, mumbling.

"Good," Namjoon says. "Hobi?"

One by one, the fingers withdraw, but hands are still holding him spread out. Yoongi gulps down, trying to keep his lungs fed enough oxygen.

"Love," Hoseok says. "This is going to hurt."

"Yes," Yoongi says, though he has no idea what awaits him.

"Still green?"

"Yes."

Yoongi half-expects the belt to come down on his slick, abused hole, but instead he feels the blunt softness of—oh. He gasps a little as the plug fills him up slowly, and suddenly is very thankful for the four diligent fingers having worked him open. The toy is thick, probably thicker than he's used to.

"Almost there," Hoseok breathes, and with a last push the plug pops into place and Yoongi grits his teeth, hard, when the tip nudges his oversensitive prostate.

A stray tear clings to his lashes for a beat before crashing down on his cheek.

"Hurts," he whimpers, clenching and unclenching his hole around the toy, fidgeting against it. "Hurts, Hobi—"

"Still green?" Hoseok checks.

Somewhere deep down, at the very bottom of the subspace abyss Yoongi's floating in, a lucid part of him melts at Hoseok's care. They've been exploring pain play for a while now, and oversensitivity, and Hoseok has been nothing but a perfect guide into this new territory.

"Still green," Yoongi says, and earns a kiss on his sweaty temple.

"Now where were we?" Hoseok asks, and this time it's clearly aimed at Namjoon.

Namjoon pokes Yoongi's ass, and then wickedly gives a little shove at the plug handle.

"Right here."

It's a whole new sensation, getting hit when he's already come. Somehow the burn feels both sharper and slower, like his nerves need a delay before fully becoming aware of the pain, his whole body reacting like coagulated fire spreading through his blood. Hoseok follows Namjoon’s directions, and Yoongi distantly thinks his backside is turning into a canvas of red-hot flowery bruises, stemming from his mid-thighs to right on top of his cheeks. Each slap reverberates into the plug, stimulating him again and again from inside. Yoongi barely realises he's crying again, barely hears himself babble and beg and thank and scream, just floats on the high of painful pleasure and pleasurable pain.

It's a steady ascent to the edge once more, a smouldering ache taking root in Yoongi's lower belly. The excruciating feeling of being forced toward a climax his body isn't quite ready for. Yoongi's legs start trembling.

"M'getting close, m'getting close again," he startles when a new slap lands right on the plug, shoving it deeper for a second and making him scramble to stay upright.

"Ah, the delights of prostatic pleasure," Hoseok comments, his voice teasing, his new hit unforgiving.

Yoongi will probably laugh at that quip when he's back in the realm of the living; for now he's busy trying to survive the white hot embers coursing through his veins. Electricity crackles right down to his toes, and he comes again, hard, painful, so fucking good, and he feels like he's flying—right until his knees actually give out.

His whole weight collapses, gravity taking control. Yoongi whimpers when the zipties bite into his skin before snapping, and then there's a wild second of flailing before strong arms catch him in a warm embrace.

"Whoa there," Namjoon exclaims, a rush of breath in Yoongi's hair. "Steady. Can you stand?"

Yoongi lets out an involuntary laugh, drunk on endorphins and the warmth he can feel pouring out of Namjoon. His chuckle breaks as the rough texture of Joon's trousers rub against his searing backside.

"Don't think I can," he mumbles hoarsely. "That's two," he adds, a little unhinged, a new giggle escaping his throat. "Is it your turn yet?"

"Mmh, you want it to be our turn?"

Yoongi nods, eyes closed and a smile playing on his lips.

"Need a little break," he whispers. "I don't think I can handle more just yet."

"So cute," Hoseok whispers. "Well, if that's what you want… Joon, keep holding him upright."

Yoongi distractedly wonders what Hobi's planning. He feels almost detached from his body, the pain having torn him from his own skin in the most delicate way. He feels fragile and silk-thin, ready to be used in a different way. Namjoon's embrace feels good around him, support and comfort through the clothes the dom is still wearing.

But Hoseok isn't done with him yet, clearly. Yoongi feels the belt again, except this time it's slithering around his thighs gently. And then tightening with the soft clink of the buckle. Hoseok slips a finger between the leather and Yoongi's skin, tugging a little.

"Not too tight?" he asks.

Yoongi hums.

"Feels good," he says. "Secure. Still can't stand though, and I broke the ties," he adds a little sheepishly. "M'sorry."

"It's okay, baby," Hoseok chuckles. "It was pretty hot to see them snap because you couldn't hold on. I'm good to hold you now, and Joonie's going to use those pretty thighs of yours, alright?"

Yoongi agrees eagerly, and lets himself change arms until he's cradled against Hoseok's chest, slim arms around his torso and gentle hands kneading his sensitive flesh. Shocks of pain run through him, but it's dulled down, the constant buzz of heat lulling him into a sleepy state. He nuzzles into Hoseok's neck, pliant and soft, humming lightly when Namjoon slathers lube in between his thighs. The gel is blessedly cool against his overheated skin.

"C'mon, Joonie," he mumbles. "Wanna, wanna feel you."

Namjoon doesn't make him wait much; there's a soft squelch as he probably lubes himself up, then the head of his cock is nudging against Yoongi's thighs, pushing into the tight gap between them. The slick drag stays slow until Namjoon is fully seated in between Yoongi's legs, right beneath Yoongi's balls, the front of Namjoon's thighs flush against the back of Yoongi's.

Strong hands grip Yoongi's hips, holding him in place firmly, pulling him closer—

"H—aah," Yoongi half-sighs, half-shouts when Namjoon's pubic bone presses against his ass. Against the plug still in place. "Sh—Joon—"

And then Namjoon rolls his hips. Deliberately. Grinds hard against Yoongi, whose eyes widen before rolling back. His cock gives a pitiful twitch where it's resting, mostly soft now, against Hobi's front.

"Wait, I need support for this," Hoseok groans, and before Yoongi fully understands what's happening, the three of them shift and stumble until Hoseok's back is braced against the nearest wall. "Good," Hobi smirks, and then his arms release Yoongi's torso only to grab his wrists and bring his hands to the wall above his own shoulders. "Think you can be a good boy and not move those?" he asks a little meanly.

Yoongi tries to swallow down his own spit, tries to understand everything he's feeling, tries to stay put despite the shivers wracking his spine.

"Yeah," he stutters eventually.

He's trapped. Hands flat against the wall, just a little too high to be used for balance; Hobi's watchful, warning gaze on his face, his hands on his still red ribs; Namjoon's pelvis still tucked against his behind, bruising fingers on his hips. Yoongi couldn't move even if he wanted to. All he can do is take it, and when Namjoon pulls back just enough to thrust back in, he clenches his teeth and swallows back tears.

"Aw, does it hurt, baby?" Hoseok asks.

Yoongi tries to keep his head high, but he knows the struggle is painted all over his face. Hoseok's grin turns even more mischievous. He gives a flitting glance to Namjoon, half a raised eyebrow, and at Namjoon's answering hum he snickers. His right hand leaves Yoongi's ribs, travelling down slowly until it reaches Yoongi's cock. Fingertips graze it gently for a couple seconds, and then Hoseok wraps it in his fist and tugs.

Yoongi's hands slip against the wall and he wails.

"I think I told you not to move," Hoseok warns. "Better get back into position."

Yoongi presses his lips together to stop from crying out. He scrambles to put his hands back into place, keening at Hoseok's fondling. 

"I can't," he pleads, "I can't, ah, please, no, stop, no, Hobi, Hobi, nonono—" 

The string of pleas ends with a hoarse whimper. One of Namjoon's hands has let go of his hip to go play with the toy, relentlessly pushing it deeper and making it move around inside Yoongi.

"Does it hurt, baby?" Hoseok asks again.

Yoongi lifts his tear-streaked face from where it has fallen against Hoseok's chest.

"Yes," he sobs. "Please, I can't take it—"

"Yes you can," Namjoon growls right next to his ear, picking up the pace of his thigh-fucking as well as his rhythm on the toy. "You can and you will."

It's so painful Yoongi doesn't find it in himself to speak again, and anyway he knows he can say no and please and stop as much as he wants, it won't change a thing. It's part of the game. Only his safeword would give him a break, or even stop everything at once—and Yoongi keeps that word gently tucked away. He will beg and cry and struggle, and relish in the way none of the two men with him will listen to it. 

So he lets himself be used, lets Hoseok stroke his already spent cock and Namjoon pound into his mistreated prostate, keeps his hands unmoving on the wall as he sobs.

"Hobi," Namjoon rasps. "Join me, wanna feel you—fuck, he's so tight, I wanna feel you there with me."

It's a bit of a manoeuvre, but Hobi gets his trousers open and pushed down, freeing his own cock and pushing it in between Yoongi's thighs. It slips right in, below Joon's, forcing Yoongi on the tip of his toes again.

"Mmh," Hoseok groans. "Love your cock, Joon."

Namjoon grunts in response, and for a while only harsh panting and Yoongi's whimpers can be heard. Until it gets to be too much, way over too much, and Yoongi's voice gets away from him.

"Close, close, fuck, no, Joon—!" he babbles. "I can't, it hurts, you're hurting me, please —"

But he can't do anything about it, and he nearly blacks out when Hoseok and Namjoon wring a third orgasm out of him. Searing pain and overwhelming pleasure shoot through him, and in the white noise filling his ears he hears Namjoon’s words again. Time to make it even .

Well, fuck.

.

Thankfully, the touches recede immediately after. Hobi holds him steady, gentle hands cupping his face, and he gives him the softest of kisses while he slowly comes back to actual consciousness.

"You've been exceptionally good," he whispers. "We're going to reward you now."

Namjoon steps back a little. Yoongi gasps when he feels a nudge on the plug, but Namjoon shushes him with a kiss on the nape of his neck.

"Just taking it out, love. Relax for me, yeah? You've done so well."

Yoongi buries his face in Hoseok's shirt, forcing himself to unclench so Namjoon can pull the plug out. He whimpers a little at the stretch, but soon the toy is tugged free, leaving him feeling empty and wide open.

"There," Hoseok breathes. "All done. Time for cuddles."

Yoongi raises his face.

"W—what?"

"Cuddles, baby," Hoseok chuckles gently. "You've been such a good boy."

"But you…" Yoongi struggles to find words, still floating deep into his headspace. "You and Joonie…? You've not…"

Namjoon softly strokes his back.

"It's fine. Today was about you."

Yoongi frowns. He knows this, they've discussed it, but it doesn't feel quite right now that he's here. 

"I want to make you feel good too," he mumbles, slowly letting formulated thoughts bloom in his brain again.

"Oh, believe me," Hoseok laughs. "You definitely did."

Yoongi shakes his head obstinately.

"Wanna make you come," he pouts.

Joon chuckles.

"Come on. You behaved so well, don't go throwing a tantrum."

"M'not!" Yoongi protests. "You said I could have a reward."

"I was thinking a nice hot bath and a massage," Hoseok smiles.

Yoongi hums. The offer is tempting. Still, he shakes his head no, trying to stand up from his slouch against Hoseok despite the belt holding his legs together.

"I want that, too. But after you've both come."

"I can't believe you're in any state to haggle," Namjoon laughs.

Yoongi turns his head to give him a glare, but his face is streaked with dried tears and his lips are bitten raw and he just wants to smile, so it's not very effective.

"M'not haggling. It's just, we're not even. You both got three and I got four."

Hoseok and Namjoon exchange a puzzled glance before understanding lights up in their eyes.

"Oh god," Namjoon groans. "You really were keeping score."

Yoongi nods, only to be swept into a kiss. Hoseok watches him being thoroughly snogged by Namjoon for a little while before he takes his due, too.

"Alright, I guess you've earned it. And because you've been so good you can even choose how. What do you want, baby?"

Yoongi licks his lips. Thighs still bound, he falls to his knees a little gracelessly, and opens his mouth without a word.

Both doms give a low growl. Yoongi raises his hands, grabbing a cock in each, and tugs a little. His wrists are a little sore, but it doesn't matter as Hoseok and Namjoon come closer willingly, crowding him, towering over him. Yoongi licks his lips again, then brings his mouth to Namjoon's cock to suckle at the head. He only stays a handful of seconds before turning his head and giving the same treatment to Hoseok's, then alternating between the two, getting spit and precome and residual lube all over his mouth and chin.

"Drop your hands," Namjoon orders suddenly, and Yoongi complies, raising his eyes to look at them through his lashes. "Thinking what I'm thinking, Hobi?"

"Oh yeah," Hoseok answers in a groan.

Two hands drop onto Yoongi's head, fingers carding through hair and then grabbing tight. All he has time to do is open his mouth wide with a little hiccup before it gets invaded.

Hoseok and Namjoon push the head of their cocks in and out of his mouth, alternating, rubbing against each other and onto Yoongi's pulled out tongue, holding his hair in an iron grip, occasionally shoving him down until he chokes, barely giving him time to recover before a second dick makes its way down his throat.

"You greedy little thing," Hoseok curses, pulling Yoongi's hair harder. "Came three times and still wanted more. You're desperate for this, aren't you?"

Yoongi can't exactly answer, since he currently has a mouthful of Namjoon. Hoseok is moving his head back and forth over Joon's cock, not hesitating to make him gag and choke and keeping him there. Namjoon chuckles and grinds into his throat. Yoongi closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing, relishing in the heavy feeling of a cock in his mouth.

When he gets granted oxygen again, he splutters a little but keeps his mouth open, pleading with his tearful gaze, overspent cock pathetically twitching against his thigh, hands grasping at his own skin to keep from reaching up.

Hoseok and Namjoon start rubbing their cocks together again, heads meeting on Yoongi's tongue, their rhythm stuttering as they grow closer.

"M'gonna come," Namjoon growls. "Open wide, baby."

Yoongi obeys right in time for Namjoon to push his cock into the hollow of his tongue, spilling just inside his mouth. Hoseok follows without a warning, coming over Yoongi's stretched lips and Namjoon's cock.

Yoongi tries to swallow and mostly fails, his throat too sore with all the shouting he's been doing and fucked raw by two relentless cocks. He ends up with come smeared all around his mouth, dripping down his chin and onto his torso.

"You're filthy, love," Namjoon comments idly.

Yoongi raises a brow at him and deliberately licks around his lips.

"You like me filthy. You want me filthy. You made me filthy."

"That we do," Hoseok smirks. "Look who's back, Min brat king Yoongi. Haven't you had enough yet, that you still find energy to tease after all of that?"

Yoongi shakes his head.

"Oh, I definitely had enough for now, thank you," he says with a sweet smile and a voice raspier than ever. "I just had a little time to get back to my senses now that I'm not being fucked into oblivion."

Namjoon rolls his eyes.

"Only you could take a double blowjob with a side of deep-throating as a form of aftercare."

It makes Yoongi laugh, hoarse and amused, until he coughs and has to wipe tears from his eyes with a wince.

"Oh no," he grumbles. "I was promised cuddles, a bath and a massage."

Hoseok crouches down next to him and unbuckles the belt. It's pretty disgusting, covered in lube and come, and gets discarded to the floor immediately.

"Come on then," Hobi says, helping Yoongi stand on unsteady legs. "Let’s get you in hot water."

Namjoon picks Yoongi up bridal-style when they all see that Yoongi's legs aren't cooperating, and together they make their way to the bathroom, bickering and exchanging sticky kisses.

As he's being lovingly tended to, Yoongi smiles to himself. He can't wait for the next time they're not even. He's just petty like that.

.