Title: Late Night Distractions
Pairing (or character): Suga/Jimin
Warnings: NC-17, mild breathplay
Prompt: Suga/Jimin - asphyxiation kink

The clock ticks loudly on the wall, and Yoongi is finding it really hard to concentrate on anything else but the rhythmic sound as the second hand makes each rotation around its axis.
The night is quiet and everyone else is dead to the world, leaving Yoongi alone with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. Which, at this moment, isn’t doing him any good as his brain seems to be just as fried out as a burnt out light bulb.
Great.
He knew he shouldn’t have put that philosophy final paper off for the last minute, and now he is suffering the consequences.
This is what he gets for keeping that fool Namjoon around as his best friend.
Three consecutive days of nonstop drinking competitions on who can outlast the other, eight hours of pounding headache and dry heaving into the toilet, three hours of alternately staring blankly between his computer screen and textbook, the words dancing around his vision in a conga line of letters and punctuation marks, and Yoongi is still two thousand words short of completing his assignment that’s worth forty percent of his final grade.
Fuck.
“Ugh,” Yoongi throws himself face down on the coffee table, arms stretched out and back hunched over as he tries to relax the strain in his too dried eyes from too many hours of staring down his laptop monitor. The paper deadline is at noon the next day, and it’s already almost three in the morning. Which gives him a little less than ten hours to finish, and the only things he has typed up so far are his name, date, and subject title.
Yoongi is mumbling something along the lines of “damnit, Kim Namjoon” and “destroy” into the wooden surface when a light knock on the door catches his attention.
“What?” Yoongi blinks at the door in confusion. It’s three in the morning. Who the hell is even awake at this hour?
The knocking persists.
“Hold on!” Yoongi shouts, hauling himself off the floor. “Give me a sec!”
“Hello? Hyung?” Yoongi hears a muted voice, a voice he can recognize even in his deepest, darkest hours of sleep.
“Jimin?” Yoongi asks in surprise as he unlocks the door and swings it open. “It’s so late. What are you doing here?”
Yoongi finds Jimin standing before him, hoodie pulled low over his face, and plucking at the hems of his sleeves out of nervous habit. Which surprises him. What’s going on? What reason does Jimin have to be nervous?
“Hey hyung, you busy?” Jimin’s voice sounds a bit higher than usual, cracking on his words. And it piques Yoongi’s curiosity even more.
“Yeah, well. I have a pa-“ Yoongi begins. But he doesn’t really get the chance to finish his sentence before Jimin quickly closes the distance, crashing into Yoongi’s chest and attaching his mouth onto Yoongi’s surprised ones.
Jimin’s fists curl around the nape of Yoongi’s neck, pressing and pulling in an attempt to mesh their bodies as close as possible.
“I guess you can come in,” Yoongi laughs in between kisses, wrapping an arm around Jimin’s waist and kicking the door shut after pulling the younger all the way inside the apartment. Yoongi stumbles over a carelessly tossed shoe on the floor, staggering backwards with Jimin still clutched tightly in his embrace.
This doesn’t deter Jimin from his attack on Yoongi’s lips, slowly pushing against the elder’s chest until Yoongi’s back makes contact with the far wall.
“You know, not that I don’t absolutely love having you over,” Yoongi breathes when Jimin finally detaches long enough to start kissing down his neck. “What are you doing here? I told you I had a paper due.”
“I missed you,” Jimin mumbles in response, mouth full of Yoongi’s skin.
“I missed you too,” Yoongi moans when Jimin gives a particularly hard suck along his clavicles.
“I feel like I never see you anymore,” Jimin continues, grazing teeth against shoulders as his hood falls back from his face.
“I had finals. You had finals. We were both pretty bus-”
“Yeah, but you had enough time to hang out with Namjoonie hyung?” Jimin huffs, suddenly pulling back far enough to frown his disapproval. And Yoongi feels at a loss, missing the warmth radiating from Jimin’s body. “You don’t have enough time to even have lunch with me, but you have enough time to go out drinking with him.”
Statement, not question.
Yoongi really doesn’t know what to say to that.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he begins, playing for time. When Jimin starts inching away, Yoongi grabs him by the wrists and keeps him still. “It just kind of… happened that way,” he finishes lamely.
Jimin’s raises his brows questioningly.
“You know how Namjoon is,” Yoongi pouts, unable to find the right words to explain. His hands slide down Jimin’s wrists to lace their fingers together. “He gets all cocky and annoying. And you know I never back down from a challenge.”
“Uh huh,” Jimin hums skeptically.
“I said I’m sorry,” Yoongi slightly panics when Jimin slides his fingers out of his grasp, taking a small step back. He’s having difficulty figuring out the expression on Jimin’s face at the moment.
Why is he getting so red?
“Jimin?” Yoongi’s arms stay suspended before him as Jimin backs away. “Are you-“
His words get caught in his throat as Jiimin slowly pulls his hoodie over his head, cheeks burning brighter with every passing second.
“-okay…”
Yoongi’s voice dies out, mouth going dry when he realizes Jimin is wearing nothing under his hoodie. All bare skin, save for the thin band of lacy black choker encased around his neck.
Yoongi blinks, eyes entranced by the contrast of the lace on creamy skin.
With an awkward cough, Jimin tosses his sweater off to the side.
A slow grin stretches across Yoongi’s lips. He reaches out to run the tip of his fingers delicately across the choker.
“So, what’s this?” Yoongi steps closer, brushing his thumb over Jimin’s heated cheeks.
“I thought it might be fun,” Jimin’s voice quivers, but his gaze is steady.
“Fun,” Yoongi nods. “Right.”
“I have matching underwear,” Jimin comments, and that is all the invitation Yoongi needs to pull Jimin up into his arms and carry him away from the living room.
Jimin resumes his nibbling on Yoongi’s neck as the elder carries him down the hall, jiggling the doorknob to his room open and not bothering to close the door before unceremoniously dumping Jimin on his bed.
“Hey!”
“You’re lucky my roommate already left for the summer,” Yoongi says in a low voice, a predatory gleam in his eye.
“Is that so?” Jimin gulps, pushing himself up on his elbows. But before he can make any real movements, Yoongi grabs him by the ankles and drags him back down the bed.
Yoongi hovers over Jimin’s body, kneeling on the edge of the bed in between Jimin’s thighs.
Jimin can hear the blood thundering in his ears, heart pounding as he gazes up into Yoongi’s grinning face.
“So, how about you show me those matching panties?” Yoongi whispers, ghosting over jimin’s parted lips. He slides the palm of his hand down Jimin’s side, tracing over the slight curve of his waist, before teasing fingers dance across the hem of Jimin’s sweatpants.
“Why don’t you help me out, old man?” Jimin replies in a cheeky tone, gaining a little bit of confidence from the effect he seems to have on the elder.
Jimin can feel it in the burn of Yoongi’s hands as they travel across his body, mapping out every stretch of skin until Jimin’s blood is boiling beneath the surface. He can feel it in the insistent nip and tug of Yoongi’s teeth, kissing fervently, heatedly until Jimin’s own are red and bruised, licking his tongue across his lips that demand more attention. He can feel it in the urgency of Yoongi’s fingers as the elder tugs the last of his clothing away, tossing the sweatpants over his shoulder haphazardly across the room.
“I like it,” Yoongi breathes, taking in all of Jimin’s body in his black laced glory. The lace underwear he’s sporting does nothing in the way of hiding his growing bulge straining against the thin material. And Yoongi thinks Jimin looks criminally hot.
“You’re still wearing clothes,” Jimin whines, back arching off the mattress and clinging onto Yoongi’s back as Yoongi traces his lips lightly up the plane of Jimin’s stomach, dropping soft kisses here and there until he’s once again bruising Jimin’s lips with another heated kiss.
“That can be fixed,” Yoongi smiles as he pulls away, Jimin’s fingernails scratching lightly into his skin as his hands fall back onto the bed. Jimin watches with rapt attention as Yoongi slowly, deliberately, pulls his t-shirt up over his head, tossing the piece of fabric somewhere along the floor near Jimin’s sweats.
Yoongi’s philosophy paper and its imminent due date is all but forgotten as he kicks off his boxers and flannel pajama pants, also joining the rest of their clothing on the floor.
“Hands and knees,” Yoongi commands with a flick of the wrist.
“So bossy,” Jimin wrinkles his nose, but follows his orders immediately as Yoongi walks over to his dresser to dig through his sock drawer for his bottle of lube and condoms.
“Good boy,” Yoongi saunters back to the bed, Jimin glancing over his shoulder to stick out his tongue.