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➝ you take care of a pliant, blindfolded yoongi before bts’ concert in london.
⌈pairing › yoongi x reader ⌈words › 1,555 — one shot ⌈a/n › for yoongi’s birthday ♡
⚠️ warnings › smut/fluff, handjobs, guided masturbation, finger sucking, mommy kink, clothed female naked male, sensory deprivation, sub!yoongi, dom!reader, aftercare
Yoongi feels still under your touch. He savors it. Trembling. Peeling off his black shirt proves to be a bit difficult because you don’t want his earrings to entangle with it. Tugging and stretching the hemline a little, you manage to leave his hair fairly untouched. It’s kind of spritzed and sprayed and textured already. A hurried member of staff came to the table and messed with it before breakfast. He’s performing later. The stylists sent you jaded, almost rabid glances when he arrived all disheveled and marked head to toe last time you had been fucking two hours before a concert in Macau. Looking at his collar bones now, not a trace is left. Smooth, supple skin. Staff’s lucky today. Maybe.You shift closer.“What are we in the mood for? Sleepyhead.” “Hey... I slept less than on the flight.”That’s true. Two hours, in fact. He’s well-rested either way. No bags under his eyes.You nibble at Yoongi’s neck, shirt plopping down on the carpet. Delightful. Perky little nipples. Goosebumps. You like what you see. “Am taking care of you today if you wanna.”He’s leaning against the headboard of the bed, jaw loose and eyes closed, in his boxers and crumpled Kumamon socks. It’s the last bit of relaxation he can get. A little nod follows. He caresses at your hip. “How much time?” you ask.“Got rehearsal at 1:30.”Something to keep in mind.“Certainly watching that one.”“You said you’d choke me out after the gig.”His tone is frivolous. You’ve been texting him about it since Los Angeles.“Hm, I did. Probably here again.”“Love that.”You pull off his neck with a twinkle in your eye, perhaps intended, perhaps not. The blue towel folded at the end of the bed is already waiting to be used.“So this is just warm-up.”Before you ruin him completely. Your sweet cherished little one. But that he already knows.Mounting his lap with your jeans still on, it’s easy to feel Yoongi not having had a clear mind during breakfast while you teased him— under the table. Rock harder he couldn’t be. You squeeze his dick on purpose by means of letting your weight sink down on him slightly.“Ouch…”“My favorite thing for you to say.”More squeezing. Yoongi grits his buck teeth. He’s kinda adorable this way. You decide to pick up your phone from the nightstand.“Need a pic, Min Yoongi. Hold pose.”“Mh.”Click.Perfect capture. The phone goes back. You muster him, now that he’s all cornered. Pinch his nipples. Tickle his belly.“You like how I tease.”It soothes his trembles. And yet, you can still see how nervous Yoongi looks at the watch on the wall. There are still over a dozen hours left before the fans even enter the stadium. You pull off your charmeuse scarf and pray that the ever-irate hair stylist forgives you. But anything to distract your boyfriend does the job.“Blindfold?”“Yes.”Yoongi reclines even further against the wall. Finally, smoother. At least a bit more, his breath normalizing. A small surprise twitch jolts through his body once you pick up a lubricant bottle from underneath the bed and squirt a frugal amount into his half-open palm. He can tell by the scent what it is, however. After reaching down to store the bottle where it came from, you guide his hand down into his boxers gently, holding him by the wrist. More nipple pinches with your free fingers. Soon enough, he firmly jerks at his erection without missing a stroke, like a beat. Yoongi moves so much more fluidly with the blindfold on. Pulling down the elastic of the trunks reveals to you the red little peak of his cock, with a small pearl on top. Cute as hell. It’s fun to pick up the bead of pre-cum with your thumb and sliding it between his lips. Either respond almost instantly with sucking, lush and wet. Yoongi loves to lick your thumb. So you leave it hooked in his mouth. Ogling his neck makes you look forward to the late night romp that’s all planned out in your mind already after BTS went Wembley on the second day. Perfect for some more marks to upset just about nobody tomorrow because Yoongi is allowed to rest at last. With you. In this very hotel.“Grab a little harder.”Your order translates directly to his right, pumping and stroking away with a more severe grip. Only the pace is missing. So you guide his wrist up and down to increase friction, making Yoongi’s tongue all incoherent on your thumb. More jerking, more precum. His little muffles are desperate. You don’t let go of his wrist just yet. You keep him on track. His mouth is hot and sloppy like the spread-out lube on his shaft. The mattress of the hotel bed is not so much squeaking now, but very well bounces underneath the two of you. It’s hard not to shove your jeans off right away and ravage him. Waiting is rough. However, his pumping hand is rougher under your lead. So much, his docile moans become frenzied, his neck veins so much more prominent at either side.“Be my sweet boy, cum for mommy,” you coo. “I’m only letting you on that stage when you’re all empty.”Pinkish and under heavy grates, Yoongi’s cock won’t take too long to respond to yet another teasing motion of yours pinching at his little ears. You love how sensitive they are. Rubbing a little at the lobes and the other parts not covered by the blindfold: Good fun. Without the thumb in his mouth, his drool is very much left to its own devices. Yoongi still tries to keep up with his palm chafing furiously, down until the base, and up again so relentless that it makes it hard for him to speak.“Hurts, hurts—”“My boy. Add the other hand, quick.”He obeys. You let go of his ears and lean right in to lick his lips clean. Slipping into his mouth with your tongue isn’t as easy given how much the mattress vibrates and his body shakes, so you grab Yoongi by the jaw to hold him still. You pin him hard against the headboard. Merging your tongues completely, Yoongi arches with jittery hands around his dick.The messy spill on his stomach comes dripping down as fast as it shot out in little strands. Almost clear fluid, just a little whitened. Quitting the drug that is his mouth leaves you high and dry more than ever, but wet spots of saliva on your jeans. Gladly— not lube. He’s not been that wild with his little yanks and jerks today. Maybe you will make him, soon. You untie the blindfold with care and swing the scarf back around your own neck. It’s nice, light, and a tad warm. Cozy like Yoongi. You will wear it during the rehearsals. And backstage. And during the concert. He’ll always see it.Yoongi collapses at your chest with slicked up hands hanging down at either side of his torso. Seemingly, with each last bit of tension pulling like threads on his every limb completely dissipating. The strings are cut. “Did I do well... mommy?”“You did.”“The sheets—”He gazes around.“Nothing really stained. You have better aim without seeing. Only, um.”You point to his spit on your jeans.Yoongi smiles his little gummy smile in reply. Embarrassed. He does remember Macau.“Gosh, sorry for shaking…”“Energy comes back in a minute. Jus’ lay back.” You help Yoongi accommodate on the bed, unscrew the water bottle next to your phone. He takes huge sips. Within a few swipes, you remove the pooling semen from his belly with the blue towel, among the drool around his chin. Yoongi’s a sloppy baby. That’s what you love him for.Double-checking the back of his head for hair out of place is rendered useless now that the sheets pretty much swallow him again as if for another nap, with you pulling off his boxers completely. You glide off the edge of the bed content, take another look at the risqué picture you had taken, and head toward the wardrobe in the same room to browse through the available items. You find two rather scruffy grey bathrobes, another towel. And some more casual street wear— a sweater of yours to lend, just as black as his discarded shirt. Tight ripped jeans, light white sneakers.“Enjoy this here, little one? For your rehearsals.”Yoongi hums in reply with one eye open, peeling his beloved socks off by using his toes. He already knows that he can’t lie down for too long. The wake of the concert, the clock, his own bleeping phone with the group chat getting active. All reminders. But he doesn’t seem as antsy as before. That’s a good sign.From your suitcase, you grab a petite shampoo bottle and comb, some conditioner, both hibiscus-scented. Tamper with your own clothes, pick a matching color. Compare. Alright.“We’ll be taking a nice Wembley shower. Come. I’ll take your earrings off.”Yoongi, dainty knowing smile, wriggles himself out of the pillows. The stylists will have to put up with freshly blow-dried hair and a bit less of a ‘texture’.
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