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quietlyimplode · 2 years

Text

leave everything but your bones behind

Whumptober 2022: day 6 - proof of life

Warnings: red room/medical/panic attacks (a few)

Word Count: 2.7k (gif not mine)

Summary: Natasha becomes unwell and only the Red Room can fix her. The choice is die or go back to the very place that made her.

A/N: a long one today, my friends. As always your words and encouragement always means so much. <3.

Main Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

———-

Clint forwards everything to Fury. Glancing at the time, he feels his stomach growl and realises he hasn’t eaten anything all day.

Natasha’s PET scan is scheduled for tomorrow.

She’d asked to go home, but all he could do was walk with her to the elevator with her IV of saline and pain killers attached to head to his floor in the tower. He can see the tremor in her hand as she grasps the pole to push it along.

What a difference a day makes.

He doesn’t know what it is that makes her seem so vulnerable, but she does.

Maybe it’s the quiet acceptance of everything, the way he knows she is internally freaking out every time a nurse or doctor steps near her, or when Tony talked to her about Sana and said Irina’s name.

The way that so many vulnerabilities have been hit and she’s just taken them.

It’s only the first day.

That fact makes him feel like sobbing and as the emotions bubble up he can’t stop them.

“I’m going for a shower, Nat,” he calls, quickly moving to the bathroom.

He turns on the shower and feels the tears before he can consciously stop it.

He might lose his best friend, his partner, his everything, and it’s all because of things he can’t control.

He wants to murder the red room again, kill Dreykov again and everyone that had a part in torturing little girls and doing medical experiments on them.

He steps under the spray, feeling the water and wanting to drown under it.

Tears mix with water and the washing away feels almost cathartic.

He’s going to be strong, because she is. If there’s anything she’s taught him it’s that, strength in the face of great odds.

Clint decides then, he’s not letting her down, not giving up, whatever that means.

She dreams.

Someone puts their towel on her forehead. She’s thirteen. They’ve just finished in medical and she’s under observation but she’s not sure what for.

The guard is asleep, and the girl on her right looks to her. She recognises her, it’s Jace.

“Shh Nat, you’re calling out in your sleep.”

Natasha nods. She was asleep, she can’t control what her body does outside of it.

“Wake me if it happens again?”

They say they shouldn’t trust each other, but they all do. They all try as best they can to protect what they can, even though they know punishment will come if they’re caught.

The girl nods.

“Promise,” she says in English.

“I’ll do the same,” Natasha says back, “promise.”

The more tests they do, the more despondent she becomes. After the spinal tap, she makes herself sleep.

Nightmares come, dreams turn into waking and still it’s preferable over the real world.

She doesn’t care for anyone’s thoughts, comments, pity. Clint doesn’t leave though, she feels his presence by her always.

The nurses try to get her to eat, but she can’t, she tried and vomited in the bathroom, but she knows she has to.

“We can try intravenously?” The doctor had offered, when Clint had told on her, said that in the last four days she’d eaten minimally.

It had not been a threat, she knows, but it had felt like one.

“Maybe some jelly?” Clint suggested and she’s nodded, it was just sugar water but maybe if she could manage that, she could manage custard then porridge.

She needs them to know she’s trying, it’s just… she feels hopeless.

Sighing heavily, Natasha glances at the time and knows the IV is going to start beeping again, wake Clint up, make him have the face of concern as she refuses to eat again.

She just doesn’t want to feel nauseous on top of everything.

Tony slams his fists on the table.

His face feels hot and he tells Jarvis to turn the heater off; only to be told it’s not on.

Frustrated, he throws the closest tool to the wall and growls.

The doctor was right.

He doesn’t want her to be.

“Jarvis, find the Red Room.”

He’s not giving up.

He’s not.

He’s just finding other options.

Jarvis sets up a tracker, and he knows by being vague it’s likely that he’s either going to find a lot, or nothing at all.

“Centre the search in Russia, any and all information pertaining to the Red Room or KGB projects where they use nanites in medical procedures.”

He sees the computer set up the search, the visuals running through.

Turning back to his own research, he reads everything again, cross references the information and sends it to Bruce.

They could fix it, but there’s not enough time. There’s nothing like this being done in the western world, no one is crazy enough to inject children with nanites that make their immunity grow, their healing better and their bodies stronger in essence.

There’s no research for what happens when those nanites die. Not when they’ve been in the body this long.

His gut twists as his brain catches up to what his body already knows. It makes him feel sick, he loses a breath and tries to catch it, his heart pulling.

“Sir, breathe,” the AI advises.

Dizzy, he does as he’s told but it doesn’t help the dread that’s overcoming him.

“I can’t help her,” he says out loud, “Ican’tfixher.”

It comes out incoherently, but the words are true.

He needs to find Bruce.

“Call Bruce,” he says as soon as thought settles.

It connects quickly.

“Tony?”

“Icantfixher,” he says again. “She’s broken and icantfixher.”

“What?”

Tony drops to the floor, unable to stand on legs he can’t feel, like all the blood is in his chest.

He hyperventilates.

“Tony, breathe,” he hears Bruce but it sounds like he’s underwater.

He’s not hearing anything right.

“In and out,” he hears a command, and he tries to follow the repeated words.

Slowly, he feels the world focus, hears more words coming from Bruce.

“Tony, focus on my voice.”

He does.

Says his name.

“That’s good, Tony, that’s good.”

The reality returns and the fact that he’s failing Natasha almost makes him cry, in horror and sadness.

“You’re looking for the Red Room, aren’t you?” Bruce guesses.

“We can’t fix her,” Tony says sadly, “not quick enough.”

“No,” says Bruce, “we can’t.”

“Why?”

He feels like a little kid, asking for an adult to have the answer he so desperately wants.

“Because you can’t fix everything, Tony.”

There’s a quiet silence between them.

“Why?” Tony whispers more to himself.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce says redundantly.

“Jarvis is looking for someone, anyone that can help,” he volunteers.

“Good.”

“I’m going to stay in the tower for the next couple of weeks,” Bruce offers, “do you think Steve will come too?”

In everything that happened over the last couple of days, Tony had not even considered calling Steve. Bruce is right though.

“Can you do it?”

Bruce agrees, and Tony sighs, hanging up and going back to his computer.

The search has only just begun, but he’s disheartened that nothing has come up.

Jarvis works throughout the night. Tony tries, but ends up asleep at his workbench at around 3am. Unable to keep his eyes open, he misses Jarvis picking up videos.

Videos of little girls in military uniforms.

Videos of them being operated on.

Videos of young woman, in lines, shooting guns.

They’re saved and Jarvis tags them for Tony to look at. The date in the corner in marked and stored.

The videos are from this year.

There’s a strangeness in finding proof of life of something you long thought was dead.

Tony shows her the videos and she watches them over and over again.

The Red Room is back. Here. Never gone.

Grief hits her like a ton of bricks and she can’t answer any of their questions.

They look so young.

Was she that young?

She was even younger.

She wonders if they’re still running the same experiments, unlikely, perhaps, things are far more advanced medically; it’s likely the experiments are far more brutal.

She knows those dead eyes of the girls in the short videos.

Natasha adjusts her position, the computer in her lap as she opens the meta data of the video and back tracks through what Jarvis has already found.

The AI seems to catch on what she’s doing and finishes the coding to open a back door into where the information has come from.

The screen blurs as she pushes herself, losing time in the coding. If she can find where it came from maybe she can find the Red Room.

She’s ignoring the fact that it is back, the fact that someone is replicating it or rebuilt it, or perhaps even more terrifying, it never went in the first place.

“Nat,” she hears Clint’s voice like a far away sound.

“Natasha.”

Annoyed, she turns to face him and sees Steve at the door. He nods and says hello, wearing the face of pity and compassion.

“Hey,” she speaks, her voice gravelly.

“Heard you’ve not been feeling well,” he says stepping into the door.

“Understatement,” Clint mumbles.

She glares at him.

Her stomach is still in knots at the realisations of the day and she doesn’t have the energy to chat with Steve about feelings.

“I’ll be better when I find the source of this,” she replies, rolling her eyes. The anti seizure medication has helped with seizures but not the foggy feelings, or the headache, the sore joints or fatigue.

The intermittent tremors are new, she notes but nothing she can’t ignore. She’s almost feeling human, if it weren’t for all the testing and constant medication.

Steve doesn’t seem to know what to do and the silence is awkward. Clint invites him in, and offers him a seat. Natasha knows he wants to say more but she doesn’t give a shit.

This needs to get done, if she has any chance…

Huffing, she stares him down.

“Just say it,” she challenges.

Steve looks sad.

“You’re sick,” he says, “I’m sorry you are sick.”

Natasha nods. She thinks he wants to hug her.

“Me too, Steve.”

Her attention turns back to the computer, and Clint tries to make small talk. It evolves into easy conversation and it’s just like they’re having dinner together.

She joins in when she can, and laughs at Clint’s dumb jokes, making fun of him as he tells the story of Venezuela and the cocktail dress he wore for a mark who demanded it.

Steve is awkward initially, but sees that they are trying to not make this a big thing. He remembers being sick, how much he hated relying on anyone, that the feeling of your own body betraying you was worse than being kicked, hit or stabbed.

So he pretends that nothing is wrong, that when the nurse comes in to change Natasha’s fluids, that he doesn’t see her eyes glaze and the tiny flush of embarrassment on her face.

He pretends that Clint’s concern at her flinch is nothing more than partners looking out for each other.

Most of all he wants her to know he understands.

It’s not fair.

Bruce had said she was unwell but seeing was different to second hand information. It hurts.

He wonders if this was how Bucky felt with him.

He sits back and listens to Clint’s story, grins at Natasha’s input, and tells his own stories as they sit together. It’s not late, but he notices her eyes closing.

Clint catches his eye and nods, shrugging continuing to talk.

Natasha listens, hearing them talking about plans for the weekend.

She closes her eyes to it, it’s good that they’re making plans.

Even if it might be without her.

Clint takes the laptop away from her.

“It’s been like this a lot,” he explains to Steve.

“First it was seizures, now they’ve got that under control, and now it’s just constant fatigue.”

Steve frowns.

“But they can fix her, right?”

Clint doesn’t answer.

He’s scared that they can’t. He hasn’t seen Tony, just received messages to pass onto Natasha, he’s not answering calls and Jarvis just says he’s busy.

The doctor keeps taking blood, saying they’re running more tests, but she doesn’t tell them what for. Bruce comes and goes but he keeps saying to ask Tony, if they want to know.

It’s not fair.

The videos of the Red Room have shaken Natasha, more than she cares to admit, and he can see what Tony is alluding to.

The Red Room will know how to fix her.

He knows that’s what he’s looking for.

It’s not an option.

Tony’s a genius, Bruce is a goddamn genius. If they can’t fix her, it’s unlikely the Red Room can. Why send her into more danger where they can take her apart and kill her.

Steve must sense his frustration, because he lets it go.

“She’ll be okay,” he says, redundantly.

“I’m sure.”

They’re loud enough to wake her.

Natasha has no idea how long she’s been asleep. She wishes she knew. They’ve taken her necklace off her, her watch and rings; the constant scans, it had been annoying to put them on and off. They live with Clint now, as they had so long ago.

Tony, Bruce and Clint are arguing outside.

It’s animated and loud.

She sits up and sees Steve on the seat that Clint’s been occupying.

“Hey,” she says, loud enough for him to hear.

“What are they arguing about?”

Steve smiles, a shallow look that betrays worry.

“You,” he tells her.

“Tony has a plan, and Clint doesn’t like it.”

Natasha looks back over and gets out of bed, Steve standing with her much to her annoyance.

She opens the door and stares at them.

“If you’re going to talk about me, do it in front of me,” she growls.

Anger flows through her, overriding fear and pain.

She knows they’re trying to help, but they’re only making her worry, about them.

They all look so tired.

Tony pushes past her, into the room where Steve is.

“Sit back down,” he tells Natasha, harshly.

“I’ve found them,” he announces.

“But he won’t let me contact them.”

Tony glares at Clint.

“No,” comes the sharp reply.

“Contact who?” Steve asks.

“The Red Room,” Natasha says quietly.

“Right? You’ve found them?”

“Nat,” Clint’s nostrils flare, a tell that he’s emotional.

“He’s not going to do it, don’t worry.”

But she is.

Not that he’s going to call them, but because if he’s ready to call then they must truly be out of options.

“What do you think?” she turns to Bruce.

“We just want to find out if they’ll give us any information, share,” he reasons.

Natasha feels disconnected from herself.

“No,” Clint says again, “you’re both geniuses, fucking work it out. The technology is old, how are you not fixing this? You say the doctor is the best in the world, that she has all these awards, and can speak different languages, that’s she’s worked for intelligence; and still she can’t work out what’s happening, despite taking pints of Natasha’s blood, despite scanning every inch of her. You know every part of her body, and all you’ve managed to do over the past week is stop her seizing. You can fix this, you can fix..” he stops.

She can see how hard he is working at composure, especially as his voice breaks on the last word.

“This is the worst option.”

Natasha agrees of course. She knows where this is going.

They’ll contact the Russians.

The Russians will say they can’t help.

They’ll say, they can’t do anything without her being in front of them.

Clint will say no.

Everyone else will know what she does, that it’s likely the only option for survival.

Does she die here surrounded by people that love her, or does she die in the place she learned to kill..

The disconnect runs deeper.

The issue is she doesn’t want to die.

As much as she doesn’t want to go back, that every cell in her body screams when she thinks it, she also has fought hard for this life, it’s not in her nature to lay down and die.

She’s survived the Red Room twice, she thinks, if they fix her, she can do it again.

“Do it,” she says, despondently. From here on out, she makes a decision, lock everything down. Whatever is coming next, she needs to remember some lessons.

No feelings.

No emotions.

Soldier.

Assassin.

Widow.

That’s all she is.

Not friend.

Not partner.

Not loved.

78 notes · View notes

theharrowing · 2 years

Text

Pretty in Pink (Make Him Purr)

Yoongi—long-established power top of the group—secretly wishes he could shed all of his responsibility and allow the members to take care of his needs while he's dressed in a frilly pink kitten outfit. Well, it was a secret until Namjoon discovers the outfit, pulling the cat out of the bag, so to speak, and forcing Yoongi to decide whether to show that side of himself to the rest of the guys.

🎀 Yoongi x OT6

🎀 word count: 15.1k

🎀 established relationships, semi-canon compliant, idol au, smut, fluff, light angst, slash, poly, nsfw, 18+

🎀 notes & warnings: angst (shame & anxiety.) this might be the filthiest smut i have ever written! bottom/sub yoongi, top everyone else, dom namjoon & hoseok, animal play, yoongi wears lingerie, master/pet, petting, teasing, hair pulling, slapping, spanking, ass to mouth, anal fingering, butt plug with a tail, blow jobs, face fucking, the Kims have big dicks, anal sex, rough sex, spit roasting, using cum as lube, verbal humiliation, multiple orgasms, subspace, aftercare.

🎀 written for the Yoonkitten Fest!

🎀 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🎀 posted july 2022 | read on ao3

“Hyung," Namjoon says in a soft, curious tone.

The hairs stand up on the back of Yoongi's neck because even if he can't see Namjoon, he knows by the tone of Namjoon's voice that he knows something. Yoongi swallows thickly and hums questionably, staring ahead at his computer, which is open to a song file he had been working on. All of the information on the screen blurs into swathes of color streaked with lines—jumbled and lost of all meaning.

"Yoongi-hyung," Namjoon tries again, and Yoongi squeezes his eyes closed, letting out an exasperated sigh. Whatever it is—whatever Namjoon has found or has assumed, Yoongi does not want to face it. He has a long week ahead of him and a pile of work to get through, and he does not want to endure the humiliation of Namjoon finding out about his newfound kinks, and—

"I was just sent to see if you wanted to join the group for dinner," Namjoon continues. "Is something the matter?"

Oh.

A brick of miscellaneous emotion sinks to the pit of Yoongi's tummy before dissolving quickly, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh, then clears his throat.

"Sorry," Yoongi mutters, swiveling around in his chair and meeting Namjoon's bright, calming smile. "Just a bit spaced out today. Where were you guys thinking about going?"

There are times—like this one, right now—when Yoongi feels like he is trapped in an aquarium, floating slowly and weightlessly behind glass while the world moves in real-time in front of him. He thinks it is exhaustion and probably many other factors, and he does his best to keep up with the conversation and be part of the party, but he just feels so disconnected.

Hoseok's face is red again, swollen from alcohol, and he mutters something to Namjoon about his upcoming album while the rest of the guys talk around them. The edges of Hoseok's mouth upturn and his bottom lip juts out, always a little pouty when he's lost in thought, and Yoongi thinks about sucking that lip between his teeth, gently, slowly, making Hoseok whine for him. Especially now, when he is tipsy and shifting around a bit uncomfortably, Yoongi wants to wrap him in a blanket of affection until he is calm and sober again.

Because this is the thing about Yoongi: he is always taking care of everyone else. Sure, Namjoon is the leader of the team, and in the public eye, he is in charge of what everyone does and how they present themselves, and what they need to say. But behind the scenes, Yoongi is the calm, measured, wise one who keeps everyone's mental health in check, and he is often the one who keeps everyone's physical needs satisfied, as well.

Namjoon brightly saying, "What do you think, hyung?" pulls Yoongi from his thoughts back into reality.

Yoongi heavy-blinks, giving his head a tiny shake as he mumbles, "What?" and looks to Namjoon to continue.

Namjoon gives Yoongi a soft smile with his eyes bunched up. Yoongi knows it as the smile Namjoon gives him when he knows Yoongi is somewhere else, but he doesn't want to call him out on it. Namjoon's classic soft, patient smile.

"What I said,” Namjoon reiterates, “was that the guys were talking about having a sleepover at the dorm one last time. What do you think?"

The suggestion doesn't surprise Yoongi. After all, they are a sentimental bunch; of course they would want to stay in the dorms together one last time.

“We could bring pillows and blankets and make forts,” Jungkook suggests with wide, eager eyes.

“You could bring one of your thirteenth floor mattresses, Jungkookah,” Seokjin teases, and Jungkook rolls his eyes despite appearing to consider it.

Yoongi chuckles and nods softly. “Sure. I think it could be fun.”

Voices erupt excitedly, with Jimin and Hoseok getting up to do victory dances while everyone else talks amongst themselves, coordinating their plans. Yoongi offers to stop for some snacks on his way to go home and pack up his pillows and blankets, and shortly after, everyone finishes their drinks and part ways.

Yoongi takes longer than expected to grab snacks and drinks, so when he gets to his apartment, he makes his way quickly to his closet to find some spare blankets and pillows, then grabs a small duffle bag that he keeps essentials packed in—like a toothbrush, spare deodorant, etc.—and opens it without a glance of the contents inside as he grabs a night shirt and pants, extra socks and underwear, and something to wear in the morning.

The duffle bag felt heavier than Yoongi would expect for it to just contain toiletries, but he is unconcerned; he would rather get to the guys sooner than later than fuss with whatever he has left in there since the last time he used it to pack an overnight bag.

It should not surprise Yoongi to find pure, unbridled chaos awaiting him at the dorm, but he still lets out an exasperated sigh at the sight before him. The three youngest plus Seokjin are attempting to build an actual tent with sheets, using pillows and a broom to prop them up, but it keeps tipping over, causing the men to shout. Namjoon approaches, muttering something about propping the broom up between two pillars of pillows, but everyone shouts at him to get away, believing that if Namjoon so much as breathes on one of the sheets, the entire thing will spontaneously combust, and it will be over before it begins.

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck in defeat, then turns to find Yoongi in the doorway. The way Namjoon’s face pulls from embarrassed to delighted sends Yoongi’s tummy into a series of backflips, and Yoongi pulls his mouth in a straight line in an attempt to seem far less affected than he is.

“Hyung!” Namjoon shouts as he approaches.

“Hey,” Yoongi mumbles, passing off two full grocery bags of snacks to Namjoon’s open hands before wandering into the main room and dumping his pile of bedding on the floor.

“Joonie is right,” Yoongi says, pulling everyone’s attention. “If you find a way to wedge the broom between two more solid items, it’ll have a better chance of standing. But you’ll need two columns; otherwise, the sheets will just drape. There may not be enough pillows.”

Jimin, who stacks pillows in the center of the mass in an attempt to create some kind of support column, grumbles, “I told you so!” as Yoongi turns back and joins Namjoon in the kitchenette to unpack snacks and lay them out on the counters.

“I’m glad you came, hyung,” Namjoon says softly, staring down at a bottle of whiskey in his hands. Yoongi chuckles quietly at the realization that Namjoon must have brought that just for him.

“Of course I came.”

“I mean,” Namjoon begins, making shy eye contact. “I, uh…you just seem stressed. So I was hoping you might let us take care of you.”

Of course, by let us take care of you, Namjoon means for Yoongi to fuck him so hard that neither of them can see or think straight because that has always been Yoongi’s main source of getting out his aggression. The thing is, Yoongi hardly feels those same aggressive feelings anymore. Most of the time, he only gives it to Namjoon as hard as he does because he knows that is what Namjoon likes.

And while it is certainly something he enjoys, it doesn’t really take care of the stress Yoongi feels. What would really help Yoongi would be getting taken care of by the others. To fully submit to one or even all of them and let them dote on him. But Yoongi—the long-established service top of the group—has no idea how to ask for something like that, so he simply does not.

Yoongi nods in slow, shallow movements. “Sure. If that’s what you want, Joonie, I would be happy to.”

Namjoon grins, dimpling his cheeks, and pours two glasses of whiskey, one with just a sip for himself and a proper drink for Yoongi. Soon the guys give up on their plan to squander all the pillows in an attempt to build a tent and decide to lay everything out to make a thick comfortable bed. Then, one by one, they make their way to the snacks and drinks and fall into conversation about upcoming projects, just as they always do.

As the night goes on, Jungkook brings out his mood lamp bluetooth speaker, setting the vibe while alcohol flows and loosens everyone up. Everyone wears loose, oversized tees and thin sweatpants, save for Taehyung, who has on a tan button-up shirt and beige slacks, and Seokjin, who sports his bad day pajamas.

Hoseok and Jimin become the first to drape themselves around others, then Namjoon follows suit, leaning into Yoongi every time he laughs and softly patting Yoongi’s chest. It would seem innocent enough, except Namjoon has already made it clear he wants Yoongi to hold him down and fuck him senseless, making the faint brushes of Namjoon’s fingertips over Yoongi’s nipples seem like more than an accident.

Yoongi concedes that Namjoon has had enough to drink, and he tells him to slow down, taking his empty glass from him and walking it to the sink. Seokjin and Taehyung stand against the counter, talking in hushed voices about something, and Yoongi flashes them a smile as he enters their space, then exits it quickly. He is never sure how to bring up the topic of sex when it comes to everyone sharing the space, but he doesn’t want to hover around until he figures it out, so he walks away.

Luckily, Namjoon—ever the menace when drunk—takes the pressure off of Yoongi. “I want Yoongi-hyung to fuck me!” he shouts, turning everyone’s heads. Then, Namjoon lowers his voice and mutters, “I–is that okay with everyone?”

Seokjin shrugs, Taehyung nods, and Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok all swoon loudly, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to burn hot. Yoongi is relieved, at least, to discover that Namjoon is in the same state as blush fills his cheeks.

“I could take my blankets into another room, if—” Yoongi begins, but Jimin interrupts.

“Nah! We want to watch.”

Others agree with Jimin, and Yoongi sighs and nods. This is nothing they haven’t done before, but he always feels anxious about beginning the act. It is hard for Yoongi to flip on the switch of being the one in control, sexually, when that is no longer his main interest. He tells himself that as soon as he sees Namjoon laying pliant with his ass in the air, Yoongi will have all the courage he needs, but it does little to settle his nerves with five other pairs of eyes on him.

“I want to DJ,” Taehyung says, and Jungkook pouts. Taehyung reminds Jungkook that he got to DJ the group's sex last time, and Jungkook quickly concedes, though he makes it a point to suggest a list of songs he would like Taehyung to play anyway.

“Lube in here?” Namjoon asks, holding Yoongi’s duffle bag up for him to see, and Yoongi nods as he takes one more shot of whiskey. Yoongi sets his glass down and wiggles his arms out to the sides to loosen up, taking in a deep, excited breath.

And then he hears it—the ringing of a bell—and his stomach drops through the floor as it dawns on him what must have been left inside that bag.

“Joonie, wait—” Yoongi shouts, but it is too late. Namjoon stands with his mouth open wide, holding a frilly pink collar. In the center of the collar sits a pretty white bow from which a large brass bell hangs. Namjoon shakes it once more for good measure, then he looks at Yoongi with wide, curious eyes.

“Hyung?” Namjoon asks.

All eyes are on Yoongi, and he begins to sweat. This cannot be happening. Of all the confessions he has made over the years—of all the shameful fucking things he has had to look the members in the eye and admit to—his desire to dress in frilly pink kitten lingerie is the last thing on earth he wants to tell them.

“Uh—it’s not mine,” Yoongi mutters.

Namjoon squints his eyes and studies Yoongi. “Really?”

“Y-yeah, it’s s-someone else’s.”

“Whose?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi sighs heavily, muttering god damn it, Taehyungah under his breath.

“This girl I see sometimes. She likes to dress like a—she likes to wear that when we—just put it back.”

Namjoon’s smile fades, and he puts the collar back into Yoongi’s duffle. Yoongi is beyond mortified; he cannot believe he left the kitten outfit in that bag. He completely forgot about packing it several weeks back when he took a solo trip to the sea to decompress before their trip to the US. He put the outfit on and pranced around like a pretty little kitty before setting up his sex machine to fuck himself with a disembodied cock while pretending to be someone else’s kitten. The kitten of everyone in this room, to be specific.

But Yoongi isn’t ready to have that cat out of the bag, so to speak. He is the strong, stern, reliable one—the one who everyone else expects to let take care of them—how could he face the shame of them finding out that what he truly desires is…that.

The topic is dropped, and Yoongi fucks Namjoon into the makeshift bed until they are both exhausted and seeing stars. Around them, others make out and perform various acts on each other. Yoongi cleans Namjoon off and helps him get dressed, and they all fall asleep in a pile in the middle of their dorm for the last time, and nobody brings the collar up again.

Over the next two weeks, Yoongi hardly sees Namjoon. At first, he chalks it up to differing schedules. They have been working on solo endeavors and spending less time in the same room. But even before and after meetings, Namjoon seems to completely disappear, and Yoongi can never seem to get his attention.

Yoongi texts Namjoon to ask if he wants to get drinks or meet up to discuss something he has working on, but long periods pass before he says he is too busy. Yoongi is also busy, though, and as much as he would like to connect with his best friend, he drops it for the time being.

After the third week in a row of near silence, Yoongi confronts Namjoon. They are exiting from a meeting with some of the producers who are helping oversee Jimin’s upcoming album, and Yoongi follows Namjoon out of the room, down the hallway, and reaches for Namjoon’s arm to stop him.

“Hey—” Yoongi says, but Namjoon swings around and glares at Yoongi with his chin jutting out. He looks pissed.

“What.”

“What the fuck is the matter?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and scoffs. “What do you care, hyung?”

Yoongi tries to make sense of what Namjoon could possibly mean and shakes his head, heavily blinking his eyes. “What? Of course, I care. What’s going on?”

There is a look of pain in Namjoon’s eyes that Yoongi rarely sees, and it pulls at his insides, twisting them in knots. Namjoon worries his lip and shakes his head as he tries to leave, but Yoongi scurries ahead and stands in Namjoon’s way.

“Talk to me, Namjoonah.”

Namjoon sighs. “Alright. Not out here.”

They walk silently to Yoongi’s studio, and when Yoongi enters the passcode, Namjoon goes straight to the couch and sits with a huff. His eyes are trained downward, and he doesn’t acknowledge what they are there for. Yoongi walks to a shelf, grabs two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, then pulls his desk chair to the table across from Namjoon and pours a small amount in each glass.

Namjoon hesitates but takes the whiskey, and once he shoots it back, he sinks into the couch while Yoongi drinks his and pours two more. Namjoon has never been a poor communicator once he has gotten started, but sometimes he struggles to initiate, so Yoongi waits patiently while the amber liquid loosens them. Tension hangs over the two of them, thick and palpable, and it does nothing to stop Yoongi’s insides from continuing to twist.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was someone else?” Namjoon finally asks, looking at a point on the table ahead of them.

Oh.

“I—”

“Look, I know that whatever we are isn’t sustainable, that you'll want someone you can be with publicly, but I always thought it meant something to you.”

Yoongi knows he has backed himself into a corner, and all for a silly lie. The truth is, there is never someone else. Yoongi could never imagine needing—or, frankly, wanting—anyone else because he has Namjoon and the others. And although there is an understanding amongst the group that they can seek out the company of others if they so desired, it has never come to that before.

Yoongi can’t decide which lie is worse because he can’t possibly continue to let Namjoon think there is another person in his life if this is the effect it has on him. Admitting to his shameful kink feels somehow less terrible. And yet, he is not sure he can.

“You mean everything to me, Joonah,” Yoongi responds.

When Namjoon finally looks into Yoongi’s eyes, they are red and welled with tears, and Yoongi thinks he can actually physically feel a crack shake through his heart. He knows there is so much Namjoon is not saying—so much Namjoon has held in and dwelled on for the past few weeks—and it pains him. Yoongi swallows a lump of anxiety and slowly lets out a deep, shattered breath, then shoots back his second glass of whiskey.

“I lied.”

Namjoon squints and cocks his head. “You…what?”

Yoongi’s eyes fall to the table, to the bottle of whiskey, to his empty glass. “The collar is mine. I was just—it’s embarrassing.”

And that’s it, Yoongi thinks. Namjoon knows Yoongi has a collar with a bell on it, and he can make up some less harmful lie about it while disregarding the rest of the cute little mesh outfit, and no harm done, they can all move on. Or, so he thinks.

“So then the frilly pink bralette,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi feels his cheeks turn bright red. “...that’s yours too?”

Yoongi mutters fuck under his breath and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and avoiding eye contact with Namjoon. The nerve of this man, really.

“Do you wear that little pink outfit, hyung?” Namjoon asks. His voice is deep and playful, and Yoongi tears his eyes away from the random point they have affixed at to look at Namjoon. Namjoon grins. “Oh my god, you do.”

Yoongi feels panicked, taking deep, unsteady breaths while his heart pounds in his chest. “N-no,” he mutters.

But Namjoon is undeterred, and he cocks his head to the side while staring at Yoongi. “Does Yoongi-hyung like dressing as a cute little puppy?”

Yoongi knits his brow and does his best to resist the urge to pout, but Namjoon reads it loud and clear, and his mouth opens wide to say, “Ahhhhh, no. Hyung likes dressing like a cute little kitten. Of course.”

“Alright, we’re done here,” Yoongi announces and stands from his chair.

Namjoon stands, too, and walks around the table that separates them to create a barrier between Yoongi and the door. “Don’t be ashamed, little meow meow.”

Yoongi cringes. They’ve been teasing him with that nickname for so many years but never has it sunk straight down into his bones before.

“Wear it for me,” Namjoon says in a stern tone that sends a shiver through Yoongi.

Because, realistically, wearing the kitten outfit and having Namjoon—big, strong, calm Namjoon—dote on Yoongi and take such good care of him is the dream scenario. It is what he imagined while making the purchase, and it is what he imagines every time he fucks himself silly while wearing it. But the fact still stands that he is never the one to fully submit, and he is not sure he can just…do that.

“Hyung,” Namjoon says, pulling Yoongi from his thoughts. “Please. Wear it for me.”

“Namjoonah—”

“In fact, I want you to wear it for all of us. Tonight, after dinner.”

Oh, this is terrible, Yoongi thinks.

“Namjoon, I can’t—”

Namjoon approaches and gently rubs the backs of his fingertips over Yoongi’s cheeks, down his jaw and along the columns of his neck. It is so soft and sweet, and Yoongi leans into the touch on one side, feeling himself craving more.

"Come on, hyung," Namjoon says softly, his voice dropping so deep it sends another shiver through Yoongi. "You work so hard for everyone. Let us take care of you. Don't you want that, kitten?"

Yoongi lets out a whine that even he is surprised to hear, high and raspy and so, so needy. Namjoon continues to pet Yoongi's neck and look at him with so much affection Yoongi feels himself melting into the touch. Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, but he can barely croak out the word yes, so instead, he nods and hums quietly.

And Yoongi feels ashamed. He feels shy and anxious and nervous, and he is not sure he will be able to go through with dressing up for the others and allowing them to take care of him in the way that he wants them to. But he trusts Namjoon and, in this moment, believes that Namjoon knows what he is doing, so he allows himself to give in to the feeling. He can always back out later if he wants to.

Yoongi nearly does back out. Namjoon has invited everyone to his place for dinner, and now, while Yoongi stands in his large walk-in closet deciding on what to wear, he feels terrified of going through with the plan. What if Namjoon takes one look at him in the outfit and finds it repulsive—or worse, thinks it is stupid and laughs at him. What if one of the other guys isn’t into it, and they regret seeing this side of him? He has always been the one to take care of them, and he loves the role he has slotted himself into, but how will he face them if one of them doesn’t want to take care of him?

The room seems to close in on Yoongi as he does his best to stop overthinking and get his bearings. He reminds himself that he has full control over his body and that if it stresses him out this much, Namjoon would understand. He also knows Namjoon would never laugh at him and make him feel badly, but the thought of it still plays on repeat at the back of his mind.

With a trembling hand, Yoongi reaches into the pocket of his joggers and grips onto his phone. He just needs to text Namjoon and tell him that he can’t go through with it. Namjoon will understand.

Yoongi: I don’t think I can do this, Joon

Yoongi closes his eyes and sighs heavily. Of course, Namjoon is a kind and understanding man, but Yoongi worries about disappointing him. He seems really into the kitten idea, but what if he doesn’t know what it fully entails and he decides suddenly that he doesn’t want to do it? Yoongi is not sure he would be able to recover from Namjoon, of all people, rejecting him.

When Yoongi’s phone vibrates and lets out a soft ding, he steels himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Then, he reads the notification without unlocking his screen.

Namjoon: Can I call?

Yoongi smirks to himself and lets out a soft chuckle. After all the years of friendship between them, he knows exactly what this is: Namjoon is a sweet talker. Sure, he could send kind and encouraging words over text, but nothing can compare to his rich, dulcet tones praising and encouraging over the line.

Yoongi knows that if he agrees, he is done for, but he doesn’t stop himself from initiating the phone call, himself. Perhaps Yoongi wants to be convinced—he will have to unpack that later.

“Hyung,” Namjoon says after just one ring.

“Hi, Joon,” Yoongi responds. His voice sounds rough from disuse, and he leans over the island in the center of his closet for physical—and, perhaps emotional—support.

“What’s the matter, kitten?”

Yoongi sighs, already feeling the charming effects of the nickname. Damn Namjoon and his big, sexy brain for always knowing exactly what he needs.

“I’m nervous.”

Namjoon hums. “Nervous about what?”

Yoongi swallows thickly and closes his eyes. “W-what if you don’t like the outfit? Or what if one of the guys—”

“Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon says firmly. “I can’t think of anything I want more in this entire world than to see you in your kitten outfit. And you don’t need to worry about the other guys. They’re going to love it just as much.”

“B-but, I’m always the one in control. What if they don’t like it? What if they think it's weird?”

Namjoon chuckles, but it is not a mocking sound. It is comforting and already telling of what Namjoon is about to say. “You silly kitten. Every single one of us has been waiting for the day you hand over control and let us make you feel as good as you make us feel.”

“Wh—really?”

“Of course. We’ve talked about it before, me and Jungkook and me and Hoseok, the most. We’ve imagined all the sweet sounds we can get you to make and how cute you’d look, skin flushed and so pretty while we hold you down and make you cum. We’ve just been waiting for you to ask for it, kitten.”

There is a shift in the air—like it is too thick—and it gets into Yoongi’s blood, making him heavy all over. The thought of Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok talking about him like that makes his face burn red hot while a tingle of arousal flutters through his cock.

“Hyung?” Namjoon says.

Yoongi realizes he is breathing deeply and probably loudly into the phone receiver. “Yeah?”

“I want you to put the outfit on under your clothes tonight. And when you get here, I want you to give me the collar. Can you do that for me?”

Yoongi takes a deep breath in, holds it for two seconds, then lets it out. It is shaky around the edges and full of trepidation. He wants to say yes. He wants to be so good for Namjoon and be taken care of.

“Yes,” Yoongi mutters, so soft he wonders if Namjoon even heard it.

But then Namjoon hums and says, “That’s my good little kitten,” and Yoongi feels his heart pound hard behind his ribs.

Yoongi arrives to Namjoon’s place in a grey cardigan, white tee and black slacks, with several bottles of wine in hand. He keeps a few buttons on the cardigan fastened to conceal the lingerie that he wears under the white tee, as he anticipates Namjoon will instantly consider the possibility of seeing the garment beneath his clothing and want to see more. Yoongi likes the idea of him wanting it.

As soon as Namjoon opens the door, his eyes widen and fall to Yoongi’s attire, then drift back up again. Namjoon raises an eyebrow and cocks his head, and Yoongi assumes he is asking if he has been a good kitten and followed his orders. So, Yoongi raises an eyebrow of his own and gives a playful shrug, then reaches into his pocket for the folded-up collar, then shoves it into the pocket of Namjoon’s brown slacks. Satisfied, Namjoon steps out of the way to allow Yoongi to enter, and he takes the wine from Yoongi’s hands as he removes his shoes.

Taehyung and Jimin sit on a large brown leather sofa in Namjoon’s living room while Jungkook hums away in the kitchen. Yoongi approaches the living room first, glancing over their shoulders to see what they are reading on Taehyung’s phone—some webtoon he doesn’t recognize—then pads into the kitchen to help Jungkook with dinner.

Yoongi worried he may have come underdressed, but even Taehyung isn’t as flashy as usual in his floral short sleeved button-up top, white undershirt and beige slacks; Yoongi had gotten used to Taehyung arriving to their casual dinners in bespoke suits. Jimin wears a white and red cardigan over a black tee and black jeans, and Jungkook is, unsurprisingly, in an oversized grey tee and wide-leg black jeans. At least Namjoon had the decency to wear a nice brown cardigan over his white undershirt.

Hoseok appears in clashing patterns, dripping with Louis Vuitton, alongside Seokjin, who wears an oversized pink sweater and tight black jeans. Bodies cycle between the living room and the kitchen, and Yoongi fixes everyone's drinks as they come and go. Everything is perfectly domestic in the way their dinner parties typically are, providing the perfect distraction for Yoongi.

Yoongi feels pretty confident while helping Jungkook with cooking dinner, and while eating with everyone at the table, but now that he is sitting in front of an empty plate, anticipating what may come next, he feels a swell of anxiety bubble inside him. He decides to excuse himself to the bathroom and splash some water on his face. Maybe he just needs to breathe and center himself. Or maybe he needs to think of an excuse to leave.

In times like these, Yoongi finds it hard not to spiral. He acknowledges that most of his fears are foolish and that none of those six men will ever make him feel ashamed of what he wants, but he can’t seem to convince himself not to stress out so much about it.

Yoongi sits on Namjoon's toilet with the seat cover down and leans forward with his head between his legs, taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. He does his best to calm his mind and tell himself that he is safe, that everyone here loves him, and that he does not need to worry, but it does little to calm his pounding heart.

When Yoongi's phone dings, he flinches before fishing it from his pocket, then he lets out a deep sigh when he reads the message.

Namjoon: Pooping? Nervous? Or both?

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose and takes one more deep breath before unlocking his phone and responding to Namjoon.

Yoongi: Nervous.

Namjoon: Come have another glass of wine with me? Jungkook and Seokjin have started a game of Mario Kart. They'll probably be preoccupied with yelling at one another for a while.

Yoongi: Okay. Sure.

There is no telling how long those two will be playing for, which eases Yoongi’s worries some. He stands on shaky legs and takes one more look in the mirror, running his hand through his overgrown dark hair. Then, after one more measured breath, he exits the bathroom and joins Namjoon and Hoseok at the dining room table.

Hoseok and Namjoon are in the middle of discussing Hoseok’s upcoming album, and they don’t pause when Yoongi arrives. In fact, Hoseok keeps his body turned toward Namjoon completely, as if Yoongi’s arrival at the table across from him has gone completely unnoticed. Yoongi thinks it is strange but pours himself a glass of wine and leans forward, listening in on their conversation.

When Namjoon turns to Yoongi to include him, and when Hoseok still doesn’t look at him, Yoongi feels anxious once more. It is so unlike Hoseok to completely ignore him, and suddenly he can’t help but worry whether he has done something wrong.

But then Hoseok does look at Yoongi with a curious expression, brows knitted together. His eyes dart from Yoongi to the wine in his hand and back again, and he says, “Kittens don’t drink wine.”

Yoongi’s mouth falls open, his breath hitches, and when he looks between Namjoon and Hoseok, who now stare at him with a dark, playful hunger in their eyes, he feels his heart beat heavily in his chest.

“Uh—I’m not—” Yoongi mutters, throat suddenly feeling so dry.

“You’re not?” Hoseok asks with a mock pout. “But you look like a kitten to me. Doesn’t he, Joonie?”

Namjoon cocks his head as if studying Yoongi and says, “Looks like a kitten to me.”

Then, Namjoon stands and leans on his palms against the large wooden table, towering over Yoongi and says, “All he’s missing is his collar.”

Time and space seem to grind to a halt as Namjoon slowly straightens his posture, reaches into his slacks, and pulls out the pink frilly collar. It is unfastened, and when he holds it by one end, it dangles, making the bell give a soft ringing sound that ricochets through Yoongi, knocking him off his axis entirely.

Then, with a smirk, Namjoon bounces the collar in his hand, ringing the bell loudly as he coos, “Here, kitty, kitty.”

At first, Yoongi attributes the silence that fills the room to his ears ringing, or to the anxiety seeping through him and causing the world around him to hush. But then he notices the others slowly filing into the room, starting with Jimin and Taehyung and then Seokjin and Jungkook. Yoongi realizes that they all heard the sound of the bell and stopped what they were doing to come see what was going on.

Yoongi stares at Namjoon, trying to block out the movement in his periphery. He shouldn’t feel surprised that Namjoon has orchestrated everything—has already spoken to the others and even went so far as to get the oldest and youngest to agree to start a game they didn’t intend to finish—just to spread everyone out and make Yoongi feel like less of a spectacle. But why go through the trouble of doing all that only to bring everyone back into the room so quickly?

Namjoon rounds the table slowly, and the others take a seat—some to the sides of Yoongi and others across from him. Yoongi doesn’t need to tear his eyes from Namjoon to know that all eyes are on him, and he sits quietly and focuses on his breathing as Namjoon approaches and stands behind him.

“Hey kitten,” Hoseok says sweetly, and Yoongi quickly pulls his gaze to Hoseok, who sits directly in front of him. “You’re doing so good for us, baby. How are you feeling?”

Yoongi opens his mouth to speak, but the sound dies in his throat, so he swallows and tries again. “Uh—I don’t know.”

“Are you nervous?” Namjoon asks from behind Yoongi.

Yoongi, who keeps eye contact with Hoseok, nods and says, “Yes.”

From the right, a hand reaches out and takes Yoongi’s hand, and he instantly recognizes it as Jimin’s.

“We’ll take such good care of you, hyung,” Jimin very softly says.

Yoongi’s eyes stay on Jimin’s hand over his, but when he asks, “What did you tell them?” it is directed to Namjoon.

“I told them that you wanted to be taken care of. Only Hoseok knows more because I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

It is true that Yoongi doesn’t mind; he has the tightest bond with Namjoon and Hoseok. He wouldn’t be surprised if Namjoon turned to Hoseok immediately for advice on how to handle this entire situation.

Although part of him is relieved that the others don’t know, he almost wishes they did. Setting aside the fact that it could be seen as a betrayal of Yoongi’s trust for Namjoon to tell everyone without his permission, he wonders if everyone already knowing would make it easier—make it less of a reveal.

“Hyung,” Hoseok says softly, pulling Yoongi’s attention once more. “You’re spiraling. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Yoongi says nothing. He stares into Hoseok’s soft, loving gaze and attempts to ground himself.

“Would it help if we just put the collar on you?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi’s eyes widen and lips fall open, and he watches as Hoseok’s lips curl into a devious smirk.

“Put it on him, Joonie,” Hoseok says, still holding Yoongi in his stare.

“Hyung?” Namjoon asks softly.

Yoongi swallows and takes a deep breath, then nods his head in shallow, quick movements, muttering a low, weak, “Yes.”

At this, Hoseok’s eyes widen, and his smirk grows into a grin, and it is so pretty and so frightening, Yoongi wishes he could kiss it right off Hoseok’s face.

Yoongi hears the twinkling of the bell before he sees it come over his head, then it is pulled snugly against his neck. Namjoon fumbles with the fastener before it is secure, then Yoongi feels Namjoon’s large, warm hands on his shoulders and his breath ghost warmth over his neck.

“So pretty,” Namjoon says with his lips next to Yoongi’s ear, and Yoongi’s eyelids flutter closed as he breathes heavily. “I bet you have more pretty things you want to show us, don’t you, hyung.”

Yoongi keeps his eyes closed and nods his head, humming a low sound of agreement.

“Why don’t we go into Joonie’s room and you can show us, kitty?” Hoseok suggests, and Yoongi nods again as he mutters, “Okay.”

Namjoon’s hands leave Yoongi’s shoulders, then pull out Yoongi’s chair, twisting it away from the table, so it is facing to the side and pulling Yoongi’s hand out of Jimin’s loose grip. When Yoongi opens his eyes, he is facing Taehyung, who watches him with a curious smile. Namjoon stands between Yoongi and Taehyung and bends, takes Yoongi’s arms and wraps them around his neck, then grabs Yoongi around the waist and lifts him.

Yoongi wraps his arms tightly around Namjoon’s neck and allows Namjoon to lift him, wrapping his legs around his waist. Namjoon has carried Yoongi before when he has been too drunk to manage, but never like this, face to face and so delicately, like Yoongi is something fragile.

Namjoon takes Yoongi through his apartment and into his room, and Yoongi nuzzles his face into Namjoon’s neck, watching as the others slowly and quietly follow behind. Once they reach Namjoon’s room, Yoongi is placed gently on the bed, and as he unwraps himself from around Namjoon’s body, Namjoon reaches for Yoongi’s cardigan buttons and begins to undo them.

There are rules to conduct when it comes to anyone in the group having sex with one another, and at this stage, they are unspoken. They all know that, at any point, anyone can change their mind and that stoplight safe words are always in effect unless a different safe word is agreed upon. So when Namjoon begins to silently undress Yoongi, it is with the understanding that Yoongi knows that he can, at any point, tell Namjoon he doesn’t want him to anymore, and Namjoon will stop.

And of course, there is a part of Yoongi that wants to place his hands over Namjoon’s and stop him from undressing him, but he is not sure he would be able to handle the pressure of doing it himself, and he knows Namjoon will take care of him. So he sits still with his eyes staring ahead at the white tee covering Namjoon’s chest and allows his handsome best friend to do as he pleases.

Yoongi’s heart races as Namjoon takes the collar of the cardigan in both hands and pushes it over Yoongi’s shoulders until it falls to the mattress. The bralette that Yoongi wears is visible enough through the white shirt, and he knows that now, even in this somewhat dimly lit room, everyone may be able to see a hint of it.

“Stand for me, hyung?” Namjoon asks, holding out his hand.

Yoongi takes Namjoon’s hand and stands, and as soon as he is on his feet, Namjoon and Hoseok’s hands are on his clothing, tugging and unfastening and pushing until Yoongi is stepping out of his slacks and standing in just his pretty little kitten outfit.

Tight, pink mesh with frilly straps and a frilly waistband sit on Yoongi’s thin, muscular frame. A heart-shaped hole in the center of the bralette shows off a peek of chest definition, and two frilly belts rest over Yoongi’s hips in an x shape, gently indenting the soft skin around his waist and hips.

“Wow, hyung,” Hoseok says, breaking the silence. His fingers trace over the belt around his hip. “You are so pretty.”

The praise makes Yoongi a bit dizzy, and he looks up at Namjoon for comfort, only to find Namjoon gazing at him with a hunger in his eyes that makes Yoongi’s breath hitch. Namjoon reaches to his bedside table and produces a headband with light pink ears that match the color of his outfit and places it on his head. The squeeze of the headband helps Yoongi slip into a calm headspace, easing his pounding heart.

“How do you feel?” Namjoon asks. His voice is deep and full of desire, and it goes straight to Yoongi’s cock.

“G-good,” Yoongi mutters.

“Guys,” Namjoon says, eyes still on Yoongi, “what do you think of our new kitten?”

“So pretty,” Jimin coos, and Taehyung says, “I love him.”

Jungkook calls Yoongi the prettiest little kitty, and Seokjin, in a teasing tone, says, “Let's make him purr.”

Namjoon is the first to begin to undress, dropping his brown cardigan to the floor and pulling his white tee over his head. Then Hoseok, and soon the rest, all silent with their eyes on Yoongi, removing their clothing with various hints of hunger and desire in their eyes.

Yoongi inhales deeply and focuses on a spot in the center of Namjoon’s chest, trying to calm his pounding heart, when he feels fingers return to his hip and sees Hoseok standing in his briefs, gazing at Yoongi.

“What does our pretty kitty desire?” Hoseok asks in a soft, nasally tone.

“P-pet me,” Yoongi whines, surprised by the desperate need in his voice.

Hoseok takes Yoongi gently by both hips and spins him, so they are both facing one another, and he gently rubs the backs of his fingertips up from Yoongi’s hips, over his ribs and his pecs, up to his shoulders, then grazes the pads of his fingers back down again. Sparks follow every movement, bursting below Hoseok’s feather-light touch, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

From behind Yoongi, Namjoon gently wraps his arms around his waist, under his arms, and he traces the lines of the frilly belt, up and in and down and out, teasing Yoongi’s skin gently.

“Is this good?” Namjoon asks right beside Yoongi’s ear.

The rich, low tone of Namjoon’s voice causes Yoongi’s eyes to close as he whimpers, “More.”

Hoseok and Namjoon continue what they are doing, but soon there are more hands touching Yoongi. On his thighs, rubbing and gently squeezing; on his neck, touching so softly; on his chest and shoulders and tummy, searching and teasing and feeling. Hands overlapping with hands, some soft and some firm, all petting Yoongi and making him feel so special and so good.

“More?” Hoseok asks, trailing his fingertips down to the hem of Yoongi’s tight pink mesh panties. Yoongi’s cock is hardening beneath the fabric, and oh god, does he want to be touched.

“Please,” Yoongi whimpers, eyes still closed.

Hoseok’s fingertips graze gently—too gently—against Yoongi’s clothed cock, touching so slowly, Yoongi whines. The touch is lifted, and Hoseok gasps.

“Did kitty just growl at me?”

Yoongi whines again. “No, Seokah, please, touch me.”

“Can you look at me, pretty kitty?” Hoseok asks, and Yoongi’s eyes open widely, staring at Hoseok intently.

Fingers still brush over various parts of Yoongi’s body, and he can tell at least two men are on their knees, but Hoseok may as well be the only person in the room at this moment.

“You’re such a good little kitten,” Hoseok says with a bright, loving smile. He lifts his hands and scratches Yoongi’s hair, making sure to run his fingers behind and in front of where the fake ears sit. “Good little kittens obey, though. They do not whine. Are you going to obey me, baby?”

Flashes from nights of Yoongi edging Hoseok to the point of insanity and making him beg for Yoongi to let him cum begin to flood into Yoongi’s mind, and all at once, he realizes the position he is in. Hoseok is going to exact his revenge, and he is going to enjoy every moment of it.

Yoongi does his best to mask his trepidation as he looks at Hoseok through his eyelashes, nods his head sweetly and says, “I’ll obey.”

“Master,” Hoseok says, and Yoongi gasps, then says, “I’ll obey, master.”

“We’re going to make you feel so good,” Namjoon says as his lips gently graze Yoongi’s neck. “All you have to do is be good for us.”

“Y-yes,” Yoongi says.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi sternly and says, “Tell Namjoon yes, master.”

“Yes, master,” Yoongi repeats, gently tilting his head to the side where Namjoon is.

Hoseok’s fingers are back on Yoongi, rubbing the mesh material over his groin and touching everywhere except his cock. Yoongi allows his eyes to flutter closed and, rather than become desperate for Hoseok to touch him the way he wants, he focuses on the other fingers on his neck and throat, on his thighs and back and chest and tummy.

Namjoon drops to his knees behind Yoongi, and this pulls him immediately from his trance because now he is acutely aware of how close Namjoon is to his ass. Namjoon touches his fingertip just above the hem of Yoongi’s mesh panties and runs them down, over his ass cheeks and down to the tops of his thighs. As his fingertips trail back up, Namjoon runs one finger up along Yoongi’s crack, pulling a high-pitched whine from him.

“Does kitten like it when I touch his ass?” Namjoon teases.

“Yes, master,” Yoongi practically whispers, trying not to sound too needy.

“Does kitten want Namjoon to touch his ass more?” Hoseok asks.

“Yes, master.”

Hoseok’s hands leave Yoongi, and he opens his eyes to see Hoseok round the end of Namjoon’s king size bed and sit in the far corner. Hoseok bends his legs, tucking them beside him, then rubs the comforter and, with a little pat to the mattress, says, “Come here, little kitten.”

All of the fingers rubbing Yoongi halt, and he fights the urge to whine. Then he gets onto the mattress on his hands and knees and crawls toward Hoseok. Yoongi takes his time, swishing his hips to give everyone a view of his butt beneath the mesh, and stays on his knees when he reaches Hoseok.

“You really are a good little kitten, aren’t you?” Hoseok praises, scratching Yoongi behind one of his ears. Yoongi leans into the feeling and hums happily as he rubs his cheek against his palm, watching as Hoseok’s mouth pulls into a wide, curious smile.

“Joonie,” Hoseok calls, still looking Yoongi in the eye.

“Yes, baby?”

“Grab kitten’s new toy.”

“Yes, baby.”

Hoseok grins. It is a dark, mischievous grin that sends chills through Yoongi, and Yoongi continues to rub his cheek against Hoseok’s hand and purr for him because he does not want to wind up on the wrong side of that grin.

The sound of Namjoon’s bedside table opening and closing can be heard, then the bed dips behind Yoongi, and suddenly, once more, his heart pounds with anticipation.

“Do you want us to be soft, rough, or both?” Hoseok asks, looking Yoongi sternly in the eye once more.

“Both,” Yoongi responds without a moment of hesitation.

“Anything off limits?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “No, master.”

Hoseok moves a hand to the back of Yoongi’s head and grips his hair tightly, pulling his head down to the side. Yoongi winces but does his best not to hiss as he breathes through the sudden sting against is scalp. It feels exhilarating to be experiencing pain at the hands of Hoseok, and Yoongi can feel his cock pressing roughly against the mesh of his tight little outfit.

“Are you my good little kitten?” Hoseok asks with a bite to his voice.

“Y-yes,” Yoongi whimpers.

Hoseok slaps Yoongi across the cheek, sending a jolt through Yoongi’s entire body, and Yoongi instantly knows why.

“M-master!” Yoongi shouts. “Yes, master!”

“Good kitten,” Hoseok coos, rubbing his fingers over his cheek while he continues to hold Yoongi firmly by the hair.

Namjoon’s voice comes from behind Yoongi as he says, “I need you to stay very still for me, kitten.”

“Yes, master,” Yoongi says softly.

The fabric of Yoongi’s panties is pulled outward from the center, then Yoongi hears four snips of what sounds like a pair of scissors before the fabric snaps back against Yoongi’s skin.

“Perfect,” Namjoon groans.

Namjoon places two fingers on Yoongi’s lower back, then moves them down, over the mesh fabric along his crack, until suddenly there is skin on skin, right over Yoongi’s rim. Yoongi gasps from the touch and looks at Hoseok with wide, pleading eyes. He knows he won’t get any mercy from Hoseok, but he wants there to be a witness to how good he feels—to how good he is.

“You guys should come see how pretty Yoongi-hyung’s asshole is,” Namjoon calls, causing heat to flood to Yoongi’s cheeks.

The unmistakable sounds of four sets of feet move closer until the bed dips behind him in different spots. Yoongi can hear a series of gasps and groans, punctuated by Jimin asking, “Can I please taste him, hyung?”

“Can Jimin taste you, kitten?” Hoseok asks, releasing his hold on Yoongi’s hair and straightening his head.

“Yes, please, master,” Yoongi mutters.

Hoseok rubs his fingers up and down the sides of Yoongi’s neck as he says, “Go ahead, Jiminah.”

Yoongi feels a shift behind him, then two small hands on his ass, spreading him wide over the panties. Yoongi wonders how large of a hole Namjoon managed to cut. It is certainly large enough to allow for a tongue, and Yoongi moans when Jimin grazes over his rim as a shiver rocks through his body.

Jimin groans and says, “Hyung, you taste so good,” and continues to lick his ass, up and down and in small circles.

Yoongi’s limbs tremble beneath him, and Hoseok rubs his hands down over Yoongi’s arms and back up again, petting him gently while Jimin eats him out. Jimin’s tongue is so wet and warm, and Yoongi fights the urge to rut his hips or beg for more.

A soft whimper leaves Yoongi’s lips when Jimin stops teasing him, and his hands slide down over Yoongi’s ass before leaving him. Then, Jimin says, “You should try him, Jungkook,” and Yoongi gasps.

Jungkook is a lot less gentle than Jimin. He grabs Yoongi by the ass, spreads him wide and plunges his tongue inside Yoongi, moaning and slurping as he eats him out. Yoongi’s arms threaten to give out, and he squeezes his eyes closed as he moans, feeling almost overwhelmed by the way Jungkook licks him. The tip of a finger grazes over Yoongi’s hole while Jungkook flicks his tongue over it, and Yoongi’s hips stutter from just the anticipation of being penetrated.

“I want to taste, too,” Taehyung whines, and Seokjin mutters, “Quit hogging him, Jungkookah!”

Yoongi is reminded of the size of his audience, and he suddenly feels shy about being so exposed to everyone at once. They have all had sex, and several of them have eaten Yoongi’s ass, but never has he been on display for all of them at once before.

Jungkook backs away, leaving Yoongi feeling wet and exposed and empty, and then there is shifting behind him and four hands are on him—two on his hips and two on his ass. Seokjin and Taehyung take turns. One grazes a finger and a tongue over Yoongi’s rim and then the other, back and forth. Yoongi can tell from the noises that he makes that Taehyung is on the right—delivering slow, sweet touches—while Seokjin is on the left, a bit messier and a lot more eager.

By the time everyone but Namjoon and Hoseok have tasted and touched him, Yoongi’s arms are trembling hard, struggling to hold him up. Yoongi is already so fargone from pleasure that he cannot possibly harness any more strength.

Hoseok pats his leg and says, “Rest your head, little kitty,” and Yoongi sighs a deep breath of relief as he lowers himself on his shaky limbs and places his cheek against Hoseok’s leg. Yoongi wraps his arms around Hoseok as best as he can and sinks into the feeling, holding his ass up high, and Hoseok pets the side of Yoongi’s face to tell him what a good kitty he is, making Yoongi hum out a deep, happy purr.

“Wanna see the toy we got you, Yoonie?” Hoseok asks, and Yoongi does his best to look up at Hoseok as he says, “Yes, master,” eagerly.

Hoseok’s body shifts as he bends forward, then something soft brushes over Yoongi’s back, tickling his exposed skin as Hoseok sits back. Yoongi looks up again to find Hoseok dangling a long pink tail over his head, and he gasps.

“F-for me?” Yoongi asks, feeling a swell of affection at the realization that Hoseok and Namjoon went to such lengths to make him feel at home in his outfit.

“This is why we had to cut the back of your panties, little kitty,” Hoseok says as he twists the end of the tail in his fingers, revealing a black silicone anal plug.

Yoongi has never been so excited to see a sex toy in his whole life, and he fights back the urge to beg Namjoon to stick it in him. Instead, he rubs his cheek on Hoseok’s leg and hums happily.

“Awe, I think kitten likes his new toy, Joonie.”

Two large, warm hands grab Yoongi by the hips, and Namjoon says, “I’m so glad,” from behind him.

“Does kitten want to wear his pretty new tail for us?” Hoseok asks, handing the toy back to Namjoon, who drops it low enough to run the soft end of it over Yoongi’s back.

“Yes, master; please.”

Namjoon must place the tail down because two hands are back on Yoongi’s ass, spreading him open, then a tongue is plunging inside, stretching him ever so slightly. Yoongi’s head spins from the way Namjoon impatiently fucks his tongue into him and groans so low and sweet.

Yoongi sinks into the feeling, closing his eyes while Hoseok rubs his head and scratches his scalp. Yoongi hums and moans, feeling so stimulated by Hoseok’s blunt nails on his skin, and by Namjoon’s tongue and hands.

Soon Namjoon’s tongue is replaced with two fingers slowly sinking into Yoongi. Yoongi doesn’t recall hearing the lube bottle open, but Namjoon’s fingers feel slick. The stretch punches Yoongi in the chest, knocking the air from him, and he grips the comforter in his fists while biting back a scream.

“Too much, baby kitty?” Namjoon teases, and yes, yes, it is far too much; Yoongi feels like his lungs might explode. But he desperately wants Namjoon to do anything he pleases—to absolutely wreck him—so Yoongi lets out a huff of air and says, “No, master.”

Hoseok pets Yoongi’s face, and Yoongi instantly relaxes into the feeling just enough to breathe through Namjoon pushing past his knuckles. Yoongi moans and whines as Namjoon slowly twists his fingers in and out, a little deeper each time, until finally he is adjusted to the feeling and biting the urge to beg for more.

Namjoon removes his fingers, and suddenly, Yoongi feels so empty. His hips tremble and inadvertently chase the movement before Yoongi corrects himself and holds his ass steady.

And this time, Yoongi does hear the lube bottle. His heart pounds while he waits, ass feeling cold and wet and exposed for all to see. Hands begin to rub along Yoongi’s calves and feet and the outsides of his thighs, and he hums happily, feeling sparks of pleasure from their gentle, loving touches.

The cold, wet tip of the plug touches Yoongi’s rim, and he gasps and pushes his ass out as far as he can, presenting himself to Namjoon. Namjoon grabs Yoongi’s buttcheek with one hand and begins to twist and press the plug, slowly stretching Yoongi even more.

“Am I being too rough?” Namjoon asks, and Yoongi sobs, “No!” before he can stop himself, lips floundering as he corrects himself and says, “No, master; it feels good.”

Namjoon does not give Yoongi long to adjust to the increasing size of the plug. Only when he reaches the thickest part of the bulb that Namjoon slows, rubs a little more lube and slowly presses it in, to the tapered neck. The air is knocked from Yoongi’s lungs as the toy is fully inserted, and he takes several deep, measured breaths to steady himself.

Then, Yoongi feels the soft hairs of the tail on his thigh, and he excitedly waves his ass, swishing his hips left and right to feel the hairs tickle against his skin. Praises come from behind Yoongi, calling him pretty, and Yoongi swishes his hips more, eager to show off his new tail to everyone.

“Awe, look at our happy little kitty,” Hoseok says sweetly. “Can I have a look, baby?”

Yoongi moves his head away from Hoseok’s leg and gets up on his hands and knees, smiling brightly as he says, “Yes, master.”

Gently, Hoseok takes Yoongi with two hands on his face and pulls him into a kiss that is so sweet Yoongi leans into it, whining and humming against Hoseok’s lips. It is chaste and delicate, and it sends so much emotion through Yoongi, down to his toes and fingertips. When Hoseok releases the kiss and puts his hands down, Yoongi takes that as his sign to turn around, so turn he does.

As soon as Yoongi turns, his vision is entirely covered by Namjoon kneeling in the nude while fisting his long, thick cock. Yoongi gasps at the sight and Namjoon catches Yoongi by the chin with his free hand and tilts his face up to look at him.

“Hey, pretty kitty,” Namjoon says, deep and inviting.

Yoongi’s cock throbs uncomfortably against his tiny, tight panties. He whimpers at the sight of Namjoon’s cock, hard and leaking precum, and licks his lips instinctively.

“Does kitty want a taste?” Namjoon teases.

Yoongi nods slowly, chewing on his bottom lip, gazing up at Namjoon through his eyelashes. A large, open hand slams down against Yoongi’s ass, stinging painfully, and Yoongi yelps loudly.

“Yes, master!” Yoongi shouts. “I want your cock, master, please.”

Hoseok’s hands squeeze and bounce Yoongi’s cheeks, moving the toy around inside him, and Yoongi whimpers from the feeling.

“You look so pretty, baby,” Hoseok mutters, and Yoongi responds, “Thank you, master.”

Namjoon sits back against his heels and pats his thighs for Yoongi to approach. With this shift, Namjoon is no longer creating a wall between Yoongi and the other guys, and Yoongi’s breath hitches at the sight of all five of the men before him nude and slowly stroking their cocks.

“Let me fuck that pretty little mouth of yours and I’ll give you permission to suck their cocks too,” Namjoon says. “Does that sound good to you, kitten?”

“Yes, master,” Yoongi whimpers. He wants to feel the sore stretch of his jaw and lips pulled taut from sucking all of their cocks. He hopes Hoseok will get in on the fun, too. He hopes they’ll use him until he is crying and pliant and unable to use his vocal cords tomorrow.

Yoongi, remembering that Namjoon had beckoned him closer, crawls forward, caging Namjoon’s knees in with his arms, and opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out flat for Namjoon to use him as he pleases.

Namjoon takes Yoongi by the head and positions his hips to slide his cock straight into Yoongi’s throat. Yoongi slightly adjusts the angle of his head and jaw and breathes through the feeling, fighting the urge to gag as Namjoon keeps his cock nestled deep inside him.

Once Yoongi has no choice but to gag from the loss of airflow, Namjoon pulls all the way out and stares down at the lines of thick spit hanging between Yoongi’s lips and his shaft. Then he thrusts himself back into Yoongi’s throat and begins to rock his hips, in and out, slowly at first, grinding Yoongi’s nose into his trimmed pubes with each thrust.

“Feels fucking good,” Namjoon groans, spurring Yoongi to relax further.

Namjoon picks up his pace and fucks Yoongi’s mouth, stretching his lips painfully around his girth, and Yoongi stays on his hands and knees, pliant, giving him full control. Yoongi thinks there is something so freeing to being handled like this—a little fuck toy all for his Joonie to use for his own pleasure, and he is unable to hold back his hums of pleasure.

When Namjoon cums in Yoongi’s mouth with a deep growl, pushing his cock so far into Yoongi’s throat, he fears his vocal cords will forever be damaged, Yoongi laments it being over. Then Namjoon pulls out and sits back, giving Yoongi a chance to breathe, and Yoongi sees the other members. He remembers there are more pretty dicks waiting to be sucked, and he feels a new spark of excitement course through him.

Seokjin is next, cracking a joke about fucking Yoongi’s face in fanchant order as he grabs him by the chin and shoves his thick, long cock into Yoongi's eager mouth. Part of Yoongi wishes he wouldn’t have to take the two most well-hung men in the world one right after another, but he also revels in the pain of the stretch as Seokjin rocks his hips against Yoongi’s mouth.

It always strikes Yoongi as a bit funny how Namjoon is more aggressive in bed than Seokjin. Where Namjoon overwhelms and pushes someone to their limit, Seokjin is often measured and careful, sliding his cock deep into Yoongi’s throat at a pace that is in no way punishing. Yoongi sucks in his cheeks and swirls his tongue—pulling out every trick he didn’t have a chance to use on Namjoon. He is eager to swallow Seokjin’s cum because it means swallowing the maknae line’s cum, which means possibly swallowing Hoseok’s cum, leading—hopefully—to someone fucking him.

It takes longer to make Seokjin reach orgasm than it did Namjoon, and after him, Jimin and Taehyung are a breeze. They both try to be gentle and kind to Yoongi, who deepthroats them until they are squealing and sobbing and cuming down his throat. Jungkook, however, is ready, and he fucks Yoongi’s face just as hard as Namjoon had.

Hoseok tugs at Yoongi’s tail periodically, sending jolts of pleasure through him, making him moan and whimper—making him wish he would pull the plug out and slide his cock in deep.

Jungkook moans loudly as he cums in Yoongi’s throat, and Yoongi gasps for air as Jungkook pulls his cock free. Yoongi’s chin is covered in drool, and his cheeks are streaked with tears, and he feels so light and calm. He wonders if he could suck all their cocks once more and nearly suggests it, when Hoseok gives his little tail a tug, reminding him that there’s still one more dick he has not gotten to taste.

When Yoongi turns, Hoseok is naked, stroking his length, and Yoongi grins as he crawls forward, licking his lips. Hoseok takes Yoongi by the chin and wipes the pad of his thumb over Yoongi’s bottom lip with a chuckle.

“Look at the mess they made of you, pretty kitty.”

“I like being messy, master,” Yoongi responds with a hum, and Hoseok bites down on his lip and grins.

“Good little kitty. Do you want to suck my cock?”

“Yes, master,” Yoongi says as he nods eagerly.

Yoongi leans forward and licks the head of Hoseok’s cock, gently at first, then in broad, firm strokes, like a cat cleaning its fur. He hums and lets his lashes flutter while staring Hoseok in the eye, watching Hoseok grin and gasp and gaze down at him. Hoseok moves his hands to the back of Yoongi’s head and cradles it gently, and Yoongi continues his teasing licks, dipping his tongue into Hoseok’s slit and grinning as Hoseok tightens his hold on Yoongi’s hair.

“Look at you,” Hoseok coos, his tone washing over Yoongi like a warm blanket of affection. “Such a pretty little kitty. So obedient and good for me; let me see you open wide.”

Hoseok tilts Yoongi’s face up toward him, and Yoongi opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue. He anticipates Hoseok lining his mouth with his cock to fuck his face, and as drool pools at the end of his tongue, he feels needier and needier—so eager to swallow Hoseok whole.

There is a tug on Yoongi’s tail, and the plug rubs against his walls, making him gasp as a familiar jolt of arousal courses through him. His jaw falters, but he keeps his mouth open, knowing he will be punished if he closes it.

“Good kitty,” Hoseok praises, holding Yoongi’s head in place.

The plug is tugged on once more, this time a little more forcefully, and Yoongi moans loudly, fighting to keep his mouth open. As much as he loves his toy, he wants the plug pulled out—he wants to be fucked so badly.

“Wiggle your cute little tail for the boys, kitten,” Hoseok commands sweetly, and Yoongi wiggles his hips, flaunting the tail as it swishes side to side. A large, open palm crashes against Yoongi’s ass, sending his body jerking forward as he whimpers loudly, then the area is soothed and smacked again, more lightly than before.

“Such a cute little ass,” Namjoon groans. "So perky and round."

Another spanking lands on the other cheek, making Yoongi yelp, and drool drips from his tongue, joining the rest of the mess of dried spit on his chin. He wants to beg Namjoon to keep spanking him, and he looks at Hoseok with wide, desperate eyes.

“Does my little kitten want more?” Hoseok asks with a smirk.

“Yes, master,” Yoongi slurs with his tongue out.

The hand—presumably belonging to Namjoon—crashes down, again and again, spanking Yoongi on both cheeks, alternating between rough and gentle strikes. Yoongi moans and whines and sobs, making a big fucking mess of himself, watching Hoseok intently, wishing Hoseok would hurry up and shove his cock into his mouth, already.

Then the plug is tugged on, gently but firmly, and as Yoongi’s ass stretches once more to the size of the bulb, a surge of pleasure-pain shoots through him, nearly blinding him. Yoongi's arms and legs tremble as the plug is gradually removed from his ass, and he pants with his mouth wide.

“Look at that gape,” Namjoon groans.

Two large hands snake under the mesh panties along the thighs and spread Yoongi’s cheeks wide open. Yoongi can hear light praises and satisfied hums coming from the guys behind him, and as he is held wide open, fingers begin to touch him and even poke and prod inside him.

The sensation of being touched by so many and not knowing the sources of the fingers that enter him has Yoongi’s head reeling. His eyelashes flutter closed as he moans and struggles to hold himself up. He wants more and more, and he desperately does not want this to stop.

Hoseok removes one hand from holding Yoongi’s head, then he feels fingers enter his mouth, and he opens his eyes to find Hoseok smirking close to his face. Hoseok rubs his fingers over Yoongi’s tongue, pushing them back into his throat and smiling with delight as he slowly forces Yoongi to gag. Yoongi is unsure how many different fingers are inside his ass, slowly entering and exiting at various speeds and depths, but he thinks he can feel at least three.

“Can our sweet little kitty cum like this, untouched?” Hoseok asks, and Yoongi gasps.

Because, yes, truthfully, he probably could. But to cum untouched, oh, the agony of how slow it is compared to having his cock stimulated. Yoongi whimpers but nods, whispering a slurred “Yes, master,” and Hoseok gives a dark little chuckle.

“Such a good kitty,” Namjoon says from behind him. “Make a mess of your pretty little panties for us.”

The fingers in Yoongi’s ass begin to prod with more intention, one brushing over his prostate, sending Yoongi into another dimension of pleasure. Any fear he just had about reaching orgasm untouched slowly begins to dissipate.

Hoseok fingers Yoongi’s mouth, and somehow it is nearly in tandem with one of the fingers that fucks his ass. Yoongi’s limbs tremble, and his chest heaves as his pleasure builds and builds, spreading through him like a wildfire. Although the feeling of the fingers is so good, Yoongi longs for more. He wants to be full—bursting from the seams with cocks pulling him apart from both ends.

The sound of the lube bottle opening sends a shiver of anticipation through Yoongi. Cold liquid is dripped directly into his hole and on his mesh bottoms by the feel of it, and Yoongi clenches from the sudden shiver it sends through him. Then more fingers enter him, prodding in and out, some in the same rhythm and others not.

Yoongi wonders if there is a single member behind him who isn’t participating. The idea of all five of them using him makes Yoongi dizzy, and yeah, yeah, he is definitely going to cum from this soon.

Hoseok removes his fingers from Yoongi’s mouth and slowly tugs his face down, hovering his cock, just out of reach. Yoongi attempts to lean down to finally take Hoseok between his lips, but Hoseok holds his head still, keeping him from touching him. Yoongi whines and slurs, “Please,” but Hoseok just giggles and keeps him in place.

“Is kitten so eager to suck my dick?” Hoseok teases.

Yoongi whines and nods and attempts to respond with words, and Hoseok giggles more, gripping Yoongi’s hair tightly and not letting him move. The fingers in his ass have Yoongi’s high building and building, and he wants that cock in his mouth when he cums. He wants to choke on Hoseok as drool-filled sobs fall from his lips.

“Please, master,” Yoongi begs, taking the risk of talking without his tongue sticking out, “I want you in my mouth while I cum, please, please, please.”

Hoseok lets out a pleased hum and pushes Yoongi’s head down, spearing him on his length. Yoongi swallows the urge to gag and hollows his cheeks, holding Hoseok’s long, perfect cock in his throat while moaning with satisfaction. The fingers in Yoongi’s ass pick up with faster, harsher movements, and Hoseok adjusts his position and begins to fuck Yoongi’s mouth.

Yoongi’s eyes roll back, tears fall down his cheeks, Hoseok shows him no mercy, barely pulling his cock out enough for Yoongi to breathe, keeping it deep in his throat. Yoongi's cock aches, hard and pressed to the side from the tight mesh and leaking a large wet spot into the thin fabric that sticks and tugs to his skin.

Just a little more is all Yoongi needs. He does his best to relax his muscles, but his ass clenches tightly around the numerous fingers. Hoseok squeezes Yoongi’s hair, moaning loudly as he fucks his throat, and Yoongi does his best to lick and suck despite the lack of mobility. Finally, Hoseok’s legs tremble, and he begins to thrust in longer strokes, and then the clouds part and the angels sing, and Yoongi cums in tandem with Hoseok.

Yoongi nearly chokes on the vicious release that slowly glides down his throat as a scream threatens to burst from his chest. He swallows it down, crying and panting through his nose as an enormous wave of pleasure washes over him and swallows him whole.

Yoongi is drowning, down, down, into the depths of bliss, trembling and jerking from overstimulation. The warm wet spot of cum turns cold as it drips from Yoongi’s trimmed dark pubes over his balls, sticky against mesh. When Hoseok finally pulls his cock from Yoongi’s mouth, he gasps for air and coughs a few times, panting loudly and happily despite suddenly feeling exhausted.

The fingers slow and, one by one, begin to pull out as Yoongi trembles with each release. Hoseok pulls Yoongi down onto his lap and strokes his hair, praising him for being so good for them as Yoongi rides out the last of the aftershocks that rush through him.

Yoongi is vibrating from head to toe. Every touch against his skin feels electric, and every sound feels far away. Hands pet his skin and voices coo and praise, and Yoongi rubs his cheek against Hoseok’s thigh, humming like the happy little kitten he is. He is certain he has never felt so sated in his entire life. And they are nowhere near finished with him yet.

“Come, little kitten,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi slowly lifts and turns his head to find Namjoon sitting near the far end of the bed, patting a pillow that he has placed in the center.

Yoongi gets up on wobbly limbs with Hoseok’s assistance and crawls haphazardly to the pillow. He falls into it on his stomach, then rights himself and gets onto his back, with the pillow under his hips. This is his favorite position to fuck Namjoon in, so he assumes that Namjoon wants to do the same to him.

“Good kitten,” Namjoon praises, rubbing a hand over Yoongi’s sweaty cheek. “So good for me. Always so, so perfect, hyung.”

Yoongi’s heart does a thing, and he stares up at Namjoon with a mix of shock and adoration. The tone of Namjoon’s voice and look in his eye are akin to an affection that goes much deeper than sex, and Yoongi basks under his gaze, knowing that whatever it is that Namjoon feels for him, he feels for Namjoon too.

Then, in a blink, the look in Namjoon’s eyes switches. Ordinarily, Yoongi climbs Namjoon like a tree, overpowering and overwhelming him and fucking him until he becomes a whimpering, trembling mess. Something about having that kind of power over someone like Namjoon never fails to fill Yoongi with pride.

With the roles reversed, Yoongi almost fears for his life, especially with the fire blazing in Namjoon’s eyes as he crawls between Yoongi’s legs and picks up his thighs, spreading them widely around him.

“Awe, is pretty kitty worried?” Namjoon teases; Yoongi’s face must give him away. “Are you scared I might split you in half on my cock? Fuck your tight little hole until you cry?”

“Y-yes, master,” Yoongi whines, attempting to steady his breathing.

Namjoon grabs the bottle of lube and squirts some into his hand, then rubs it over himself, and Yoongi watches with bated breath as Namjoon’s large, pretty hand strokes his monster of a cock. Namjoon reaches forward, inserts fingers into the hole in Yoongi’s panties and rips it open more than it had been cut, causing Yoongi to gasp. Then, Namjoon leans forward and brushes the tip of his dick against Yoongi’s rim, and Yoongi whines from the touch.

“Ready, kitten?” Namjoon asks with a devious smirk.

Yoongi nods, trying to ignore the anxiety that swims inside him. “Y-yes, master.”

The stretch of Namjoon’s blunt tip takes Yoongi’s breath away. Stretching himself to fit Namjoon is always work, and the few times Yoongi has done so, he has ridden Namjoon, keeping full control rather than lying pliant and letting him do the work. It is not that he doesn’t trust Namjoon; it has always been about control. Handing over control, lying spread wide, has Yoongi panting heavily and squeezing the comforter in both fists.

Namjoon rocks his hips gently forward and back, breaching Yoongi with just the tip, and Yoongi gasps for breath. Namjoon is so careful and slow, yet it still feels like Yoongi is being torn asunder. He breathes deeply and slowly, doing his best to keep his eyes on Namjoon, determined to be the best little kitten for him.

He also loves the look on Namjoon’s face when he is trying his very best not to unravel. Everyone must feel like a tight fit to a man built like Namjoon is, but he always looks like he is teetering right on the edge of insanity while working Yoongi open.

Slowly, Namjoon gets enough of his cock into Yoongi to begin thrusting, setting a steady pace. Yoongi whimpers and moans loudly, gasping for breath each time Namjoon pulls his hips back. It is incredible how it feels like Namjoon is shoving his cock all the way into his guts; Yoongi nearly fears he may not make it out of this alive.

But then, gradually, Yoongi adjusts to the stretch, and as Namjoon picks up the pace and holds his thighs higher, Yoongi sees stars. He is so full, melting into the euphoric feeling and moaning loudly. Sweat drips down Namjoon’s face, sticking his grown-out black hair to his forehead, and Yoongi watches with so much affection as Namjoon bites his lip and grunts and stares down at him as if he is something precious and sacred.

Then Namjoon snaps his hips roughly, pulling a scream from Yoongi’s lungs, clouding all the sweet fluffy feelings are with arousal the likes of which Yoongi is not sure he has ever felt. Mentally and physically, Yoongi still hasn’t recovered from his first orgasm and how it felt to be handled by every member at once, and although he is acutely aware of each sensation, he also feels as if his soul is floating outside of himself.

Namjoon picks up a punishing pace, fucking Yoongi hard and rough, and Yoongi holds onto the blanket beside him for dear life. It hurts, and it feels so good, and Yoongi wonders if there could be anything in the world better than this. And then he sees the rest of the guys crawling toward him and realizes that yes, oh yes, things could be infinitely better.

Jimin and Taehyung approach first on either side of Yoongi, and he desperately reaches for their cocks, eager to fill his hands. They lean in and let Yoongi stroke and grope them as he pleases and reach out to rub fingers over his nipples and along his chest and ribs. Jungkook crawls past Jimin, takes Yoongi’s head in both hands and shoves his cock deep into Yoongi’s mouth while Seokjin and Hoseok stroke Yoongi’s legs and tease his clothed cock with the very tips of their fingers.

Yoongi is sure that he has ascended. If there is a heaven, it could not possibly compare to the overwhelming bliss he feels being touched and used by the six most amazing men in the world. Hissing, praising, and moaning fill the room, mixing with the lewd slap of skin on skin, and Yoongi basks in it—drowning once again.

"Fuck, you are so amazing, hyung," Namjoon moans. His hips are sputtering; he is close.

Yoongi pulls his head off Jungkook and cries, "Touch me, please! I want to cum with Joonie, please, please!"

Seokjin grins and reaches down, squeezing Yoongi through the tiny clothing, and Yoongi squeals around Jungkook's cock as it is shoved back into his mouth, sputtering spit past his lips. He wants to beg Seokjin for more, for skin-on-skin contact, but Seokjin seems aware of his needs and yanks the waistline down, finally freeing his dick from moist, rough constriction.

All it takes is three strokes of Seokjin's hand, and Yoongi is screaming around Jungkook's length while spraying cum on his tummy and undoubtedly the frilly bands wrapped around him. Yoongi cums, clenching Namjoon's length, and it feels like all time and space rip open. Yoongi is certain he is floating, euphoric and quite possibly dying. Namjoon pushes him to the point of overstimulation as he empties himself inside him with deep, short thrusts.

The sounds of Namjoon moaning and whimpering and calling Yoongi's name have Yoongi falling back to earth, crashing into the present moment. Love, Yoongi thinks. Love, love, love. Everything about Namjoon is love. It swims inside Yoongi, filling his lungs, threatening to choke him. Or maybe that is just Jungkook's cock lodged deep in his throat; at this stage of fucked out bliss, Yoongi thinks it could be a culmination of things.

Bodies shift, Namjoon pulls his softening, spent cock from Yoongi's sensitive hole, making Yoongi sob a muffled, broken sound. Then his hips are lifted, and another dick enters. Yoongi does his best to look and sees Taehyung towering over him, glistening with sweat.

Yoongi is unsure when Taehyung's cock left his hand, but his palm sits open and empty, so he must have let go at some point. He still strokes Jimin, though his control over his limbs wanes, and it is more like he is holding his hand in a fist while Jimin slowly fucks his cock into it.

Taehyung wastes no time fucking Yoongi at a steady, fast pace. He is not punishing or rough, but he is consistent—full of stamina—and Yoongi quickly feels his cock fill again. Jungkook cums in Yoongi's mouth with a low moan and praises him for being a good kitty, petting his head and making Yoongi feel so happy and good, and then Yoongi's head is pulled to the other side, and he finds Seokjin stroking his length and telling Yoongi to open wide.

By the time Taehyung cums inside him with deep, whiny moans, Yoongi is dripping with sweat and close to another orgasm, himself. Nobody mounts him while he finishes sucking Seokjin off, and when Seokjin finally cums in his mouth, Yoongi rolls onto his back to catch his breath just long enough for Jimin to call, "Here, pretty kitty!"

Yoongi turns his head to find Jimin sitting against the headboard, patting his thighs. He strokes his hard, pretty length, and Yoongi slowly bumbles around onto his stomach to climb onto his shaky hands and knees. The movement has cum dripping from Yoongi's sensitive hole, and when Yoongi he straddles Jimin's hips, he sinks down onto him without the need for lube.

Jimin bends his knees and fucks into Yoongi with one hand gripping him by the waist and the other holding a handful of hair. Yoongi bounces on Jimin's cock, whimpering and moaning and feeling made of gelatin, and Jimin praises and moans sweet, pitchy sounds of pleasure. Getting handled roughly by his favorite little pillow princess is an absolute dream come true, and Yoongi does his best to touch and feel Jimin, tweaking his nipples between his thumbs and fingers and holding onto his shoulders.

From behind him, Yoongi hears praises from the others. He wonders if they are touching themselves or each other, but he can't turn to look; he would definitely topple over if he tried. The visual of the others touching themselves while watching him bounce on Jimin's dick is satisfying enough.

Jimin grips Yoongi's waist with both hands and bounces him hard, moaning and whimpering until he is filling Yoongi with more hot, sticky cum. It squelches out of Yoongi, disgusting and wet, and Yoongi absolutely loves it. He loves how filthy this is while also being one of the most calming, wonderful moments of his life, filled from both ends with the cum of the men he loves more than anything.

As soon as Jimin lifts Yoongi from his hips, Jungkook pulls him down to the bed, lifting one leg and shoving his cock deep inside him. Yoongi's still tangled in Jimin's legs as Jungkook jackhammers into him. It is quick and hot the way Jungkook fucks Yoongi ruthlessly into the mattress, spitting sweet words as if they are laced with hate. Yoongi thinks he would like to see this side of Jungkook a lot more.

After a pounding so punishing that Yoongi feels dizzy, Jungkook pulls out to cum, spraying it on Yoongi's tummy and outfit while mocking Yoongi for being such a messy, filthy little kitten. Shame floods Yoongi's cheeks to be teased by the youngest, who drops honorifics, and Yoongi thinks he definitely wants to see this side of Jungkook a lot more.

Seokjin flips Yoongi onto his stomach, puts his fingers into the ripped hole in the panties to spread Yoongi open, and fucks into him. The slide of Seokjin's lubed-up cock feels even bigger with Yoongi laying flat, and he must be squeezing the life out of Seokjin because he is a mess of curse words and moans.

Hands rub and squeeze Yoongi, touching him on the head, back, arms and legs, and Yoongi drools into the comforter as he whimpers raspy, broken sounds. Seokjin fucks Yoongi hard and fast, and by the time he cums on Yoongi's ass, rubbing the fluid into the mesh of his outfit, Yoongi isn't sure he can take anymore. His ass is sore and used, and after Seokjin, he wonders if he may have been turned inside out.

He can't imagine how Seokjin and Jungkook both had three orgasms; he has been on the brink of his third but has been too afraid he might cum dry if he is made to have another and another, so he hasn't been eager to chase the high just yet. He knows damn well Hoseok will make him cum with him again.

Yoongi is spent and exhausted, and ordinarily, he would insist he can't take anymore, but Hoseok is last, and he can't possibly go without letting Hoseok have a turn. The building could be on fire, and he wouldn't deny Hoseok anything, even if it meant going down in a pile of rubble and ash with him.

Yoongi is shocked when he feels the cat ear headband pulled off his head because he is certain that thing should have come off long ago. He had forgotten it was squeezing him until it is removed, and he is filled with a sense of relief. Hands stroke Yoongi's messy, sweaty hair, and Yoongi knows it is Hoseok already gently preparing him for the last round. Hoseok praises Yoongi for being so good and so pretty, and Yoongi rubs his cheek into the comforter, humming a deep, happy sound.

"Sure you can take one more, kitten?" Hoseok asks lovingly.

Yoongi nods. "Please, master; I need you."

"Can you get onto your back for me, Yoonie?"

The nickname, again. Yoongi is so stupidly smitten with Hoseok—for all of them, really—but there is something so calming and delicate about Hoseok, and he knows that when he uses a soft nickname, he is in for a world of love. Yoongi can't easily roll over on his own, but he manages to get himself onto his side and then onto his back, in the direction Hoseok's voice had come from. Yoongi can feel shifting on the bed, and he opens his eyes to find all of the members circling him on their knees while Hoseok takes his place between his legs.

Hoseok uses a generous amount of lube and gently spreads some on Yoongi's rim. Yoongi winces and pants as Hoseok slicks him up, touching over his used, sensitive hole. And slowly, gently, Hoseok lifts Yoongi's hips and slides his cock into him. It burns, but it feels incredible, and Yoongi watches Hoseok with wide, eager eyes while Hoseok's pretty heart-shaped lips fall open and whimper sweet sounds.

Hands grab at Yoongi, rubbing his arms and hands, gently massaging his chest and touching his nipples and Yoongi hums and mewls like a happy little kitten. Hoseok sets a languid pace, slowly thrusting into Yoongi, and the tug of his cock along his walls is so delicious and so, so overwhelming; he can feel everything—every inch of Hoseok's length.

Hoseok never picks up to a fast pace. He cradles Yoongi's ass in both hands while using deep, slow strokes to ease Yoongi to the point of orgasm. Yoongi isn't sure how long he is in Hoseok's arms before he leans in closer and moves one hand from under Yoongi to grab his cock—Yoongi isn't sure of anything in the world outside of this bubble of bliss.

As Hoseok slowly strokes Yoongi, he picks up his pace just a little, just enough to express the eagerness for them to finally reach their highs together. Hoseok rolls his hand over Yoongi’s cockhead with each upstroke, and Yoongi moans deeply as the pleasure builds and builds, reaching its breaking point.

"Is our kitten gonna cum?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi looks away from Hoseok to find Namjoon kneeling by his head.

Yoongi nods and says, "Yes, master," and Namjoon strokes the hair off his sticky, sweaty forehead, smiling as Yoongi leans into the feeling.

"Eyes on Seokie, baby," Namjoon says, and Yoongi nods again as he lazily turns his head, blinking heavily in search of Hoseok.

Hoseok grins and squeezes the tip of Yoongi's cock, and Namjoon presses a large, firm hand over Yoongi's throat. And that is all he needs. The dam breaks, flooding every sense, every nerve, everything in the entire world, sweeping him under, deeper than he has ever been swept before.

Yoongi hardly registers the choked sobs that pour from his lips or the way his entire body trembles. Hoseok moans and cums inside him, and Yoongi continues to shake, still riding out a high that never seems to dissipate.

"Thank you," Yoongi mutters quietly. His vision is blurred, his hearing hazy, and his limbs feel like cooked noodles. All he can register is the overwhelming pleasure and exhaustion he feels. All he can do is whisper, "Thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou," over and over like a prayer.

Yoongi is stripped of his outfit and taken to a bath and touched and spoken to so gently and lovingly, and it is a blur, but he knows he will never forget the way he feels. When he is brought back to Namjoon's bed, tucked into fresh bedding and surrounded by bodies, all Yoongi can do is hum happily, whispering praise and gratitude to anyone who will listen.

Love, Yoongi thinks. Love, love, love.

💖 tag list: @dasexydevitt13 & @giriiboyy

#yoongi smut #yoongi x ot6 #btscarnivalnet #btswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bts smut #bts poly #fic: pretty in pink (make him purr)

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