Work Text:
Seokjin is unaware of it for a long time, but once he notices he can’t stop.
The first time he really takes notice is at a fan meet. He kneels in front each of the members, teasingly calling them oppa to mixed reactions; Taehyung coos at him and cups his face, Jungkook pretends to hit him, and Yoongi—
Yoongi ignores him.
Of course, it’s not an unusual reaction from Yoongi while on schedules. He pretends to hate Seokjin’s dad jokes, he tries to look unimpressed while a smile curls around his lips and he fools nobody. It’s just like him to ignore Seokjin’s extravagant fanservice; it only makes the fans laugh harder (it’s a stark difference from when they’re away from clicking cameras and nosy fans; Yoongi is free to shake his head and laugh, a hand coming up to brush Seokjin’s bangs out of his eyes before pulling him in for a kiss).
They’re back in the dorms before Seokjin notices anything. He’s goofing off with Jungkook again, teasing him about how he adores being doted on that he dislikes any of the fans using honorifics with him. As they set out their takeout he keeps using the word (accompanied with sticking out his tongue like a child) and when Yoongi makes a smart comment, Seokjin gives an exaggerated roll of his eyes.
“Yoongi oppa is just being grumpy!”
Yoongi stiffens beside him. Their knees are touching where they sit, so Seokjin can feel him tensing. It’s only a fleeting moment, but Seokjin is an expert at reading Yoongi at this point, and he notices. A split second and Yoongi relaxes, stuffing bulgogi into his mouth, so Seokjin lets the moment slide, but stores it in his brain for later examination.
***
They’re fooling around in the dorm, pulling aegyo on each other and teasing each other relentlessly. Seokjin hoots as he records a video of Namjoon doing gwiyomi (both adorable and beautiful blackmail material—perhaps birthday post potential) and when Yoongi says it’s his turn he doesn’t hesitate.
“Oppaya,” he sings, fluttering his eyelashes at Yoongi. The YouTube recording of the song plays out into the room and he lip-syncs to SeenRoot’s sweet voice. I have this guy I really like. I was keeping it quiet. But I felt I had to tell someone. So I'm calling you! He finishes it with a flying kiss. The others are cringing, but Yoongi looks somewhat slack-jawed at him, distracted by something. Seokjin winks at him when he makes eye contact, and Yoongi crosses his legs.
***
He’s talking with Namjoon and Hoseok about their plans for their days off. Seokjin asks if they want to come hang out with Sungwon when Yoongi comes in, hearing the tail end of their conversation.
“Who?” he asks.
And because Seokjin is beginning to form a theory and he wants to experiment, he says “Sleepy oppa” at the same time Hoseok says “Sleepy sunbaenim” and Namjoon says “Sleepy hyung.”
Yoongi tunes into one phrase only. “You call him oppa?” he asks Seokjin, partially incredulous, partially…interested?
Seokjin gives him a smile, smug and sweet. “An inside joke.”
“Ah.” Does that syllable sound the slightest bit regretful? Seokjin isn’t sure, but he does make note of the faint pink across Yoongi’s cheekbones.
Seokjin is like a dog with a bone; now that he’s onto something, he sure as hell isn’t going to let it go.
***
Looking back, Seokjin remembers a few fansigns where Yoongi had mentioned in passing that he liked the honorific being used. He had written off as the same way he’s such a stickler for the others calling him hyung (something Seokjin loves; Yoongi pulling the hyung card on the others means that he absolutely gets to pull it on Yoongi).
But there seems to be something about the word oppa – specifically about Seokjin calling Yoongi oppa – that gets him riled up. Seokjin isn’t sure what exactly it is; maybe it’s just the thought of Seokjin trusting him enough to invert the age hierarchy between them. Maybe in some ways, Yoongi sees it as a form of trust, or Seokjin giving up a little bit of power to Yoongi’s control. Maybe Yoongi gets off on the concept of Seokjin, tall, broad, strong Seokjin, using a word for him that’s typically only used by females.
Seokjin isn’t sure what it is, but he isn’t going to probe his reasoning. All he knows is that it gets Yoongi hot under the collar, so he’s more than happy to indulge (he’s a good boyfriend like that – and besides, the look Yoongi sends him whenever the word comes out of his mouth, dark and tantalising…well, he would be lying if he said he didn’t get riled up himself).
***
Being an idol is always going to be stressful. They rarely even have time to destress, which in itself is problematic. Seokjin can’t remember the last time he was able to relax and unwind. The high pressure and close confinement often leads to outbursts in tensions; usually this results in petty fights and arguments between the seven of them.
Sometimes, Seokjin and Yoongi vent it in other ways.
Like now; they’re backstage at Music Bank, both of them stuffed into a bathroom while the others are getting their hair and makeup done, wrapped up in each other. Seokjin’s fingers card through Yoongi’s hair roughly (the stylist’s will be fixing it in a moment anyway) and he has him backed against the door. Yoongi’s hands are tight on his shoulders, tight as they grind against each other, kissing sloppily into each other’s mouths.
It’s been far too long.
That’s when the idea strikes him. Seokjin bites Yoongi’s bottom lip before pulling away, pouting down at him. “Oppa,” he whines, going for what he hopes is an innocent pout. “Oppa, I’ve missed your body.”
The effect is instantaneous; Yoongi groans, his head knocking back against the door. “I knew it,” he says, eyes clouded with lust, skin flushed. “You—you fucking vixen, I knew you were teasing me all along.”
Seokjin wedges his thigh against Yoongi’s crotch. He’s even harder now, cock stiff against his leg. He smirks.
“I don’t know what you mean, Yoongi oppa.”
“Don’t play innocent, I know too much.” Yoongi plants a kiss on Seokjin’s pulse point, careful not to leave a mark. “You drive me insane. The way you say it – you sound so hot, it just makes me want to—”
“Wreck me?” His smirk only grows.
“Absolutely.” Yoongi pulls back to make eye contact. “It makes me want to destroy you.”
And gosh, that does sound appealing, especially when the only way Seokjin has gotten off the past few weeks has been because of his right hand. So he slips that right hand down Yoongi’s chest, after a moment of fumbling pops the button off of Yoongi’s jeans and slips his hand into his boxers.
He can’t help but smirk. Yoongi’s already so worked up, aching and hard against his hand, even though they’ve only been fumbling around in this bathroom for a few minutes.
The position is a bit awkward; Seokjin hasn’t pulled his jeans down much so he has limited access, and the slide is rough and dry as he begins palming Yoongi’s cock, pressing his hand against it teasingly before managing to get a proper grip and beginning to jerk him off. Yoongi’s breathy sighs are lost into his skin as Seokjin keeps going, feels Yoongi’s fingers claw into his shoulders and he takes that as his cue to pull away.
Yoongi, red-faced, looks confused. “Hyung,” he says, mildly aghast, “I thought—”
Seokjin’s smile only grows as he sinks to his knees, making sure to flutter his eyelashes coyly up at him. “Can I suck oppa’s cock? Pretty please?”
“Shit.” One of Yoongi’s hands is in his hair now, pushing his bangs off his face so he can see Seokjin in all his kneeling glory, plump lips slightly parted, eyes half-lidded, tongue just visible. Seokjin looks good, and he knows it. “Of course – please.”
He hums as he unzips Yoongi’s jeans the rest of the way down, tugging the material just low enough so he can pull his cock out for easy access. Ah, it really has been a while, and Seokjin has always been fond of bringing men to their knees while on his knees.
“Thank you, oppa,” he says, making eye contact with Yoongi before sticking his tongue out to lick lightly at the head. Yoongi curses again, fingers clenching Seokjin’s hair tightly (from the contact or the word, he’s not sure, and doesn’t quite care).
And even if it has been a while, Seokjin has never been able to resist teasing his dear Yoongi-chi, at least a little bit. He jacks him off for a moment while he flicks his tongue against the head, small kitten licks on the underside before digging his tongue into the slit just to hear Yoongi hiss through his teeth. He drops his hand then, licking up a wide stripe before pulling away to kiss the tip sweetly, almost chaste.
Yoongi’s whispered pleas are ignored as Seokjin takes his time, sucking gently on the head while his fingers trace teasing patterns down the length of Yoongi’s cock. He’ll choke himself on his dick in his own time, thank you very much.
“Seokjin,” Yoongi grits out. “Seokjin-ah. Please.” His hips jerk forward just slightly. It’s amusing, how wound up he is already, and Seokjin decides to be merciful.
“Okay, oppa,” he says, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue, ready for Yoongi to fuck his mouth, feed him his cock, make him gag. “Do your worst.”
Yoongi’s hips push forward, his cock just slipping past his lips and into his mouth properly when there’s a banging on the door.
“Seokjin-ah, are you in there?”
Seokjin pulls away, spluttering. It’s Hobeom. “Yes, hyung!”
“Hurry up in there, what’s taking you so long?” Hobeom gives an exasperated sigh. “You’re wanted in the make-up chair, please be quick!”
“I’ll be right there!” he answers, shooting Yoongi an apologetic look. He kisses the tip of his dick lightly, a promise for later. “You’ll have to take care of yourself for now, Yoongi-chi.” He stands up, kisses Yoongi (on the mouth this time) and takes his leave.
***
They don’t get home until the wee hours of the morning. Exhausted from performances, rehearsals and pre-recording, Music Bank schedule was followed by a quick session of dance practice before they had to record for a variety show. The seven of them are so exhausted that by the time they get back to the dorm, they have barely showered and eaten before they’re crashing.
Thankfully, their schedule doesn’t begin until nine in the morning (a rare sleep in for them) and when Seokjin wakes, it’s with a sleepy Min Yoongi pressed to his chest. His alarm clock reads that it’s early. Seokjin tries to drift back asleep, until Min Yoongi’s strong case of morning wood begins to press into his thigh, and then oh, he’s thinking about the pent up sexual tension, and—
And he can’t help but rut his hips just slightly. Yoongi shakes awake, grumbling at first before he realises his, uh, situation.
“Good morning,” Seokjin says, brushing his hair out of his eyes. It’s getting long. And dry. They need to invest in some more deep conditioner. “Oppa,” he adds, as an afterthought.
Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s too early in the morning for this.”
“It’s never too early.”
He just hums, rocking his hips against Seokjin’s.
He thinks about how worked up Yoongi got yesterday. Whatever it is about the whole situation, it’s clear that he’s stumbled on a not-so-small kink of Yoongi’s, and he’s determined to indulge it if he enjoys it.
“Are you okay with it?”
“With what?”
“Me calling you oppa.”
Yoongi takes a moment to answer, embarrassment flashing across his expression. “You don’t think it’s weird?”
“Not particularly.” Seokjin can think of many things they’re both into that are far stranger.
“Then I’m okay with it. More than okay with it. You, uh…” he trails off for a moment. He leans down slightly, and Seokjin thinks he’s going to kiss him but instead he presses a thumb against his lips. He opens his mouth without hesitation, sucking lightly on it, preening under the heavy gaze. “You sound so fucking good. I mean, you always do, but—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Seokjin says, voice garbled around Yoongi’s thumb. “Oppa.”
Yoongi removes his thumb, only to replace it with his index and middle finger, pressing down on Seokjin’s tongue. It’s not a deeply sexual act, per se, but being under him like this makes the heat pool in his stomach, and he sucks gently on his fingertips.
“Say it again.”
“Oppa.” Again the word is muffled, and Yoongi presses in further, harder against Seokjin’s tongue. It has him moaning, grinding up against Yoongi.
“Oppa, Yoongi oppa.”
Yoongi’s rutting against him now, cock thick and heavy against Seokjin’s bare thigh, and Seokjin wants.
“Oppa—”
There’s a knock on the door and Seokjin nearly throws something.
“Hyung!” Jungkook’s voice. “Jimin hyung’s making eggs for breakfast, he told me ask whether you want fried or scrambled?”
Yoongi sighs, frustrated, pulling away.
“Fried,” Seokjin answers. He’s never felt so bitter about eggs before.
***
Seokjin gets home that evening, showers and goes through his extensive skincare routine. He’s considering going to sleep early when Yoongi arrives home from the studio, and as soon as the door to their room closes he knows that neither of them are going to sleep anytime soon.
The pent up sexual tension, the sexual frustration that has been lingering for weeks—Seokjin doesn’t just want. He needs.
They’re quick to fall into each other’s arms, Yoongi straddling his lap as they sit on the edge of the bed. For a while they do nothing but kiss; wrapped up in each other, traveling hands exploring familiar territory. Shirts discarded, Seokjin presses his thumbs against Yoongi’s nipples while sucking on his tongue. They’re both feeling the drought; he’s already half-hard in his boxers and Yoongi is the same in his sweats.
Yoongi pulls away, looking down at Seokjin, eyes serious, burning. “I want to fuck you.”
“Sounds excellent. Let’s hurry.”
Yoongi doesn’t hurry. He stands up, pulls Seokjin’s boxers off slowly before shedding his own clothing.
“Yoongi,” Seokjin whines, impatient. “Hurry up.”
But Yoongi just grins, something wicked about it. “Lie down, babe,” he says. “Let oppa take care of you.”
Fuck.
The words go straight to his dick, and Seokjin squirms where he sits. He’s called him that so many times over the past few days, but Yoongi using it to refer to himself…he looks so confident right now, standing in front of him in all his hard, naked glory and Seokjin wants nothing more than to be fucked into oblivion.
Yoongi helps him lie back onto the bad, a pillow under his lower back for support. He fetches lube and a condom before hovering over him, another kiss pressed to each other’s lips before he moves downwards.
Seokjin waits for the cap of the lube, but there is none; Yoongi pushes up his legs, hooking his knees over his shoulders and he looks so intense that Seokjin almost whines.
“Oppa...”
“Shush, I’ll take care of you.” A kiss pressed to the side of his knee. Seokjin’s cock is completely hard now, and his arousal only grows as Yoongi gets lower and lower. He sinks with careful accuracy, planting kisses across his unmarked flesh. The higher up his thighs he gets, the rougher Yoongi becomes; when he reaches the soft skin that won’t be shown on camera the kisses are replaced with bites. And Yoongi bites hard, hard enough to leave marks that will blossom into bruises overnight. He leaves a trail of them in the meat of his thigh, leaving apologetic kisses over his artwork before trailing light teasing kisses on the sensitive skin in the crease between his leg and lip.
Seokjin can’t stop squirming, but Yoongi’s hands pin his hips down.
Yoongi begins to move more central now, and rises up, moving closer to where Seokjin wants his mouth the most. He hovers above the tip of his cock, so close that Seokjin can feel his breath against his sensitive flesh, before he moves away to the other side, giving his right leg the same extensive treatment.
Seokjin is so frustrated he almost cries.
“Oppa!” Yoongi is impatient, but Seokjin knows that he can rile him up too. And the sooner his patience breaks, the sooner Seokjin has a dick in him. “Oppa please hurry, I want you inside me now—”
“Patience,” is all Yoongi says, pushing the backs of his thighs up to his chest. Seokjin holds them up for him, spreading them as wide as he can in this position, opening up for Yoongi.
“When you showered earlier – did you clean down there?” A finger presses against his rim gently.
“Of course I did—”
The words have barely left his mouth before Yoongi’s tongue licks a broad stripe across his rim. It takes Seokjin by surprise and he jerks wildly before settling. From this position he can’t really see Yoongi without craning his neck, but he can certainly feel him. Flicks of his tongue against his rim, teasing but never breaching until—
Seokjin hisses as Yoongi tenses his tongue, finally pushing it inside of him. Of course, it doesn’t reach as far as his fingers, let alone his cock, it’s not nearly thick enough but it still feels so good. Seokjin whispers Yoongi’s name like a prayer before somewhere along the way, the word changes to oppa. Yoongi eats him out with gusto, alternating between flickering his tongue against his walls and delving in as deep as it can reach, and Seokjin is so fucking aroused right now that he wants to scream. He doesn’t even care how sloppy and messy he looks right now, he just wants more.
Yoongi pulls away, and there’s the click of a cap and then a finger is finally sliding into him. Yoongi’s tongue enters him again then, pressing up high while his finger reaches deep, wiggling around and opening him up. The second soon enters in another squelch of lube, scissoring him gently while he pulls his tongue out to suck around the rim.
When Seokjin catches a glimpse of him, he can see Yoongi rutting against the bed, so desperate even while he’s taking his time opening Seokjin up.
Seokjin muffles his cries into his hand, forcing himself to relax for Yoongi as a third finger sinks in. He gives up on rimming him at this point; three fingers deep, he searches for Seokjin’s prostate. When Seokjin shows no resistance, he fucks up with his fingers harder and faster before leaning down to take the head of his cock into his mouth and it’s too much—
Seokjin comes with a cry of oppa on his lips, chasing Yoongi’s mouth and fingers at the same time. Yoongi pulls off just before he comes so he can watch his orgasm, his smile equal parts lustful and fond.
“You’re so good, Seokjin-ah,” he says. “So good for oppa.”
He keeps finger fucking him through his orgasm, and even when Seokjin is tearing up from sensitivity he urges Yoongi to go on. He takes his time pulling on the condom, spreading lube over himself, and Seokjin doesn’t move, still holding himself open for him.
Yoongi hovers over him, aligns himself at his puffy rim, and then looks down into Seokjin’s eyes. “Beg for it.”
“What?”
“Beg.” Yoongi licks his lips. “For oppa.”
“Oppa, fuck me.” Seokjin kicks Yoongi’s ass with the back of his heel. “Hurry the fuck up.”
“Ask nicely.”
“Please.”
“Is that the best you can do?” He tuts, shaking his head. “I don’t think you want this at all.”
Seokjin could cry at the prospect. “Please oppa,” he says, desperation truly colouring his tone and he knows it won’t be long before he’s hard again. He wants to egg Yoongi on further, even now. He thinks of every line of dirty talk from every cheesy porno he’s ever seen. “Please, I’ve been waiting for oppa’s cock for so long, please fuck me already, I can’t bear it I need you inside me now, oppa please—”
And then Yoongi pushes in.
This is one of Seokjin’s favourite parts; Yoongi always pushes in slowly and Seokjin gets to feel him in his full length and glory; inch of glorious inch sinking into him and splitting him open. Even with the condom it’s like he can feel every ridge of him as he slides home and the breath leaves Seokjin’s lungs as his eyes flutter shut. If he could stay like this, stay being filled forever, he would.
Yoongi groans, cool composure slipping. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Tight.”
Seokjin clenches around him. “Just for you, oppa.”
“Shit, shit – Seokjin, can I move?”
He nods, letting his legs fall to the side as he holds on to Yoongi’s shoulders for dear life.
Yoongi starts fucking him slow; shallow thrusts as he begins to work out his own rhythm. Yoongi looks devastatingly gorgeous like this, his face scrunched up in pleasure, head thrown back as he begins to get a tiny bit faster, a little deeper. For a while he fucks him just like this, deep and hard thrusts that use all of the weight of his hips. They smack against Seokjin’s skin, and he cries out low at every thrust, the force of them sending him up the bedsheets.
Yoongi angles his hips then, one hand balancing him on the bed beside Seokjin’s face as he searches for his prostate. It doesn’t take too long; they know each other’s bodies so well at this point. Yoongi can play him like a piano, spin him out so good, take him apart and put him back together again. He finds it quickly, and Seokjin is hard again, groaning loudly when the nerves spark pleasure up his spine. “Fuck, Yoongi, oppa—” he swallows. “Come on, oppa, harder.” He’s so sensitive after his first orgasm, it’s almost a little painful but that just makes everything so much more intense. He’s hyperaware of every movement and he loves it.
Yoongi is evidently close to his own orgasm; once again his thrusts become a little shallower, but they only pick up speed as he hammers into Seokjin, his own moans mixing with the air. The slap of their skin would be embarrassingly loud, but Seokjin focuses on clenching around him again, dragging him down for a kiss as he bucks up to meet every one of his thrusts.
“Come on, oppa,” he whispers into Yoongi’s ear. “Cum, pretty please?” He leaves encouragements and sweet nothings as Yoongi moves down to bite on one shoulder, hard, and with a few more thrusts he comes with a strangled cry.
For a moment, there’s stillness. The sound of their heavy breathing before Yoongi sits up again. He doesn’t pull out just yet, still deep in Seokjin’s ass as he begins to jerk him off. It’s so much, too much, and Seokjin chases the pleasure, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as he moans through a second orgasm. Yoongi kisses the tears away, telling him how good he was for oppa, and Seokjin smiles.
“Oppa was so good for me, too,” he says, leaning up to kiss him before his muscles groan in protest. “I think I’m in love with your dick. You’re okay, too.”
Yoongi chuckles at that. “You better quit calling me oppa,” he says, “unless you’re ready for another round.”
“Fuck no. I’m not a teenager anymore.”
Yoongi flops onto his chest, and while it would be nice Seokjin nags at him to go get a cloth or something because there’s nothing cute about being a human-cum sandwich. Yoongi gives him a sweet kiss and comes back with a towel, one half dampened with warm water and he cleans Seokjin up diligently. Yoongi may pretend to be a hardass on stage, but Seokjin always sees his sweet side.
With his stomach, thighs and ass cleaned from the mess of cum and lube, they snuggle for a little while. Yoongi has to leave to shower, but within ten minutes he’s back in Seokjin’s arm, head resting on his chest. Dancing is going to be painful tomorrow, but for now Seokjin is fucked out and sated and content.
He’s even more content with the man in his arms.
Seokjin presses a last kiss against his forehead and drifts into dreamland.