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“Hello, and welcome to round 3 of everyone’s new favorite game: ‘Has Jungkookie Been Studying His Kink Terminology?’ It’s shaping up to be an exciting episode today, folks,” Taehyung says with an easy grin as he corners Jungkook and holds up his phone camera to record. “I’m hoping we’ll set a new record for how quickly we can get him to blush.”
“Taetae, no one likes this game. Only you,” Jungkook sighs. “It’s the worst .”
Taehyung gasps, like Jungkook has said something scandalous. “Sounds to me like someone just doesn’t wanna play because he hasn’t been doing his homework…”
Jungkook’s eyes widen. “But I have!”
“You sure about that?”
“I am, I’ve been studying! I promise! I’ve been reading all the links Jin-hyung sent, and watching our video backlog—”
Taehyung tilts his head. “If watching porn is studying, I’d love to be your study partner. Maybe do a little bit of hands-on work…you know, for memory retention.”
Jk is about to happily accept the offer when he sees the smug look on Taehyung’s face and realizes it’s probably just an innuendo. His new hyungs make a lot of innuendos. “Jin-hyung says I can’t play with anyone until he’s satisfied with my knowledge of sex and BDSM.”
“Shame.” Taehyung tsks. “The viewers will have to settle for our game show instead. Are you ready for question one?”
Jungkook wrinkles his nose. “No.”
“Excellent! Let’s begin! Question one: name some examples of tools used for sensory deprivation.”
“Oh! Blindfolds, earplugs, headphones, contacts that block light, hoods, nose plugs, things like that. But most common is just like, blindfolds and earplugs.” Jungkook read about sensory deprivation last night, so it’s fresh in his mind.
“Ding ding ding! Correct! Question two: name all of the items Hobi pre-set for tonight’s scene.”
Jungkook steps over to the prop table nearby and studies the selection. He didn’t want to play at first, but now he’s feeling competitive. “This one is a whip,” he says, running his fingers over the long tail. He hasn’t seen it in action in their videos so far, but he’d know what they look like even outside of kink. The rest aren’t quite as easy, and it takes him a second to remember the right names. “Paddle, plug, clamps, c-cock ring…flogger.”
“It’s darling that you still can’t say the word cock with a straight face, JK,” Taehyung tells him. “But that’s correct! You have been studying. Now, for our third and final question. What does the term power play mean?”
Jungkook slumps. He hasn’t learned this one yet, too busy with his schoolwork to binge-study kink like he wishes he could. He tries to think back to the videos he’d seen…
“Is it playing with electricity? Like how in that one video Hobi-hyung shocks you with an electric stick thingy?”
“Ooh, better luck next time golden boy.” The viewers have been calling Jungkook ‘golden boy’ and ‘golden maknae’ in the comments because of how well he performed in his audition video, and every time the boys use the nickname it makes him breathless. “The correct answer is, in fact, play involving dominant and submissive power dynamics. No electricity involved, unless you count how shocked I am that you ever thought you were a dom.”
“Namjoon-hyung said no more teasing me for that,” Jungkook complains, shoving Taehyung by the shoulder playfully.
“I’m never getting over it,” Taehyung says solemnly. “I bet 20,000 won that you really were a dom, and now Jiminie’s 20,000 won richer and 20,000 times more insufferable.”
Jungkook blinks. “You bet on me?”
“Okay, onto our final question!”
“Wait, you said the last one was the final question!”
Taehyung shushes him. “I haven’t gotten you to blush yet, which means I get a free question. It’s part of the rules.”
“What rules?”
“The rules of the game show. They were in your release form.”
“I never got a release form.”
“Are you sure you didn’t lose it? We’ve established you’re not great with paperwork.”
Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes, confused by where this conversation has landed, but Taehyung continues. “Question four! Are you ready?”
“I…I think so?”
“Then tell me, JK: what is rimming?”
Jungkook definitely knows this one. It was one of the first paid videos he watched when they gave him his employee access code to their video archives. He instantly turns bright red at the memory, and Taehyung cheers triumphantly. “I knew that one would get you! Do you have an answer?”
“It’s when...ah, Hyung…”
“Hm?”
“It’s too embarrassing to say…”
Taehyung coos. “Last week Jiminie fingered you open on camera but you’re too embarrassed to say what rimming is?”
Jungkook shifts from foot to foot. “Uh huh.”
“You know, we really shouldn’t have been surprised to get so many requests for you to be in a corruption kink roleplay.”
“People want to see that?” Jungkook perks up. He likes the idea of people asking for him by name, because it means that they’ve watched his video. It means they’ve seen him fall apart with pleasure. It’s…fuck, it’s hot to think about. He’s always had a thing for being watched, even letting a few girls film sex tapes with him, but somehow accepting this job has made him even hungrier to show off what he can do with his body.
“Of course people want to see it. I don’t know if you’ve watched all of Namjoon-hyung’s videos, but…well, pretty much everyone knows how perfect it would be for you to do a scene with him.”
“Is that why he’s gonna be my first real scene when I’m ready?” Jungkook asks. “‘Cause Jimin-hyung said Namjoon-hyung should be the first to put his…cock…inside me?”
Taehyung swears, and his Daegu accent slips through as he speaks. “You don’t even realize how hot you are, do you?”
“I dunno,” Jungkook shrugs. “Sometimes people tell me that. I think I’m just normal.”
“Read the comments on your audition video, and you’ll see what I mean.”
Jungkook hasn’t, yet. He wasn’t sure if they would be positive or not so he’s been avoiding them, but if Taehyung says he should, then maybe they’re all nice comments.
“Alright! 3 out of 4 questions correct isn’t bad, but unfortunately it does mean you’ve lost today’s game—”
“—how is 75% a fail—”
“—which means I win, which means I get a prize.”
“This is rigged,” Jungkook whines.
Taehyung taps his nose, delighted. “Read the contract next time before choosing to appear on Live TV.”
“This isn’t…”
“My reward,” Taehyung cuts in. “Is a kiss. Give me a kiss, JK?”
Jungkook looks at him skeptically. “That’s it?”
“I’m a simple man,” he pouts. “And Jiminie got to kiss you, and he keeps bragging about it, and it’s gonna be funny when I finally get to tell him he’s not the only one.”
“Jimin-hyung’s been bragging about me? That’s…oh, wow…”
Fingers snap in front of his face. “Focus, JK. A kiss?”
“Sorry. Um, yes. You can kiss me.”
“Yeah?” At the verbal consent Taehyung’s voice shifts breathier. Sexier. His half-lidded bedroom eyes give a once-over. Up, down. “So pretty, Jungkook-ah,” he whispers, and he leans in.
Taehyung doesn’t kiss like he’s in a hurry. He kisses like he has all the time in the fucking world. He kisses like Jungkook is a finely-aged wine to savor, to roll across his tongue. He’s heat incarnate, and Jungkook melts against him with hitched breath and parted lips. Begging entrance.
But then it’s over, and even as Jungkook follows Taehyung with a whine, the older pulls away. He smiles. “Already so floaty from a simple kiss?”
“Nuh uh,” Jungkook denies automatically. “‘M fine. Not floaty.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Are you sure we can’t kiss more, though? Just. For the audience, you know.”
Taehyung laughs, giving Jungkook a peck on the forehead and stepping away to turn the camera solely onto himself. “Unfortunately, our time is up for today. Tell the viewers goodbye!”
“Bye,” Jungkook says breathlessly.
“Until next time,” Taehyung tells the camera.
“When I said you should all start filming behind the scenes clips for me to post, I didn’t mean they should be videos of me,” Jungkook whines once the phone is away. He needs this plan to work—BTS’s online presence is disproportionately small when compared to how many subscribers they have, and as their brand new social media manager, Jungkook is the one in charge of fixing that.
“But what else would I want to film? You’re the prettiest thing here, baby.”
Jungkook pouts. “I’m trying to build good social feeds here, we need variety. I can’t just post myself over and over.”
“Ah, but it’s not just you. It’s us. You don’t think everyone will be all over that clip of our kiss?”
Jungkook makes a noise that can only be described as petulant. “Hyung!”
“Alright, alright,” Taehyung gives in. “I’ll take it seriously. I’ll film the others half the time, and you half the time. Final offer.”
“I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get,” Jungkook agrees.
“Perfect. I’ve gotta go, but you’re coming back tomorrow right? I’m bringing breakfast for everyone, if you have time to stop by before class.”
Jungkook scrunches up his nose as he thinks. “I think so?” He’ll have to get his homework done tonight, but he can probably swing it. His schedule has gotten so much harder to keep track of now that he’s splitting time between class, practice, and work.
“Then I’ll see you. I’ll text you for your food order, so don’t ignore my messages like you usually do.”
“I don’t mean to! I see them, and I respond in my head, but then I forget to do it in real life.”
Taehyung squishes Jungkook’s cheeks into a pout. “How do you survive out there on your own?”
“I just do?” he says, muffled.
Letting go and patting his cheeks, Taehyung smiles. “I’ll be off. Do not ignore! My messages! Respond in real life.”
“Yes, Hyung.”
Taehyung is almost out the doors of the studio before he spins back suddenly. “Oh! Before I forget, I need to enter your soft and hard limits into our computer system so we have a digital copy to reference before planning your future scenes. We update our lists monthly, or as needed. Can you make a list and bring it next time you come?”
“O…okay. Yeah, I’ll bring…that.” Jungkook mentally makes a note to research soft and hard limits when he gets home tonight. He knows he’s seen the terms before in his reading, but he can’t remember what they are off the top of his head.
Taehyung gives him a look, tipped off by the uncertainty in his voice. “Do you understand what I’m asking you to do, or are you just agreeing because you like to make us happy and want to look smart?”
“I’m just agreeing because I like to make you happy and want to look smart,” Jungkook mumbles. He hates how everyone here sees right through him. It’s infuriating. He’s always been easy to read, but all his hyungs are somehow a level past that—they’re like mind readers.
Taehyung gets a little bit more serious. “That’s what this education period is all about, right? Helping you learn about the community and industry and most importantly teaching you it’s okay to ask questions. We can’t have another situation like your audition. It turned out okay in the end, but it could have gone very badly, because you didn’t have informed consent and because I entered into the scene under the false pretenses you set. Beyond that, you can’t go into BDSM expecting to make everyone happy. If we know you’ll lie to please us, how can we ever trust that you’re telling us the truth during scene check-ins? We have to know you’ll speak up when you don’t understand or you aren’t comfortable, because pushing past your limits will hurt both you and your scene partner.”
The scolding feels harsher than it is, especially since this isn’t the first time they’ve discussed the miscommunication from his audition. He was so stupid , marking things off on his negotiation sheet without researching what any of it meant. Someone could have been hurt…he knows that now. But habits are hard to break, and Jungkook has always been a people-pleaser to the core. “I’m sorry, Hyung. I’ll—I can do better. I was gonna go home and research it, but I’ll just ask next time. ‘M sorry.”
“Aish, I’m not some disciplinarian, don’t look like such a kicked puppy. Research is great; I’m glad you’re taking responsibility to learn more. But it would go a long way to building our trust if you’d just tell us when you don’t understand. If you say nothing, we’ll assume you know what we’re talking about and it could cause another big miscommunication. But if you let us know, we can either explain right then, or we can check in later and make sure that what you learned on your own was actually accurate. There’s a lot of misinformation online, especially about BDSM. That’s why Jin-hyung is sending you articles that he’s pre-checked.”
“I didn’t even think of that,” Jungkook whispers. What if he’d gotten the wrong information while researching on his own, and then came back and accidentally hurt someone because he’d been too embarrassed to just ask?
“Hey, you didn’t know,” Taehyung reassures gently. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m telling you now, so we don’t have any problems. Right?”
“Right,” Jungkook agrees. “Thank you, Hyung. I’ll tell you next time, promise.”
“Perfect. I’ll send you something to read about hard and soft limits tonight so you can make your list.” He pauses. “I…I know we’ve been a little hard on you because of safety, but I hope you know we’re really glad you’re here, Jungkook-ah. This place feels a little more complete with you here.”
Jungkook beams. It’s not like he felt unappreciated or unwanted before, but it’s still nice to hear it. “Thank you, Hyung.”
Taehyung nods decisively. “Okay, well, that was enough Hyung-talk for one day. I need to go do something irresponsible to balance it out. See you tomorrow, and don’t forget to answer my messages.”
“I won’t!”
(He absolutely forgets to answer Taehyung’s messages.)
***
Scenes between Yoongi and Hoseok seem very different from how Jungkook’s experience with Jimin felt. Then, he’d been fight flight frozen , and Jimin was a predator closing in on willing, waiting prey. It was tension, and wide eyes, and bending under dominance.
But these two—their scene together—it feels frenetic. Wild by design. Yoongi is not the willing prey Jungkook was, and he makes it known with sharp words and even sharper looks.
Hoseok doesn’t need willing prey. He’s had a leash looped around Yoongi’s neck from the very beginning, and only when it pulls taut does the sub realize his fate was always decided.
Jungkook watches that turning point—the realization—unfold in front of his eyes with awe.
“Why so quiet?” Hoseok swings a paddle hard against the sit spot between Yoongi’s ass and thigh. He’s grinning—sadistic to the core. Jungkook had heard about his love of impact topping from the others, but he underestimated how much it would show in his demeanor. He’s brighter, more energized than Jungkook has ever seen him before. “You were being so bitchy a minute ago and now you’re hardly making a sound. Had enough?”
“I’m fine,” Yoongi snarls. Jungkook doesn’t think he looks fine. His skin is a startling shade of pink, tender from all the blows he’s received so far, and he’s gripping the edge of the spanking bench so hard his knuckles have gone white. Doesn’t it hurt too much by now? How is he still going? “I’m quiet b-because I’m bored. Did you think of that? That maybe you, you can’t even hit me well enough to—”
Another swing, this one landing in the center of his ass. Yoongi cuts off the end of his sentence with a choke. Hoseok revels in the sound. “Yoongi-yah, you need to be more creative than that. We both know I hit you just how you like it.” He lands a second blow in the same exact spot, and when Yoongi tenses and squirms against his restraints the dom slides three fingers into his stretched and dripping hole. They glide in and out, slow, too slow to give enough gratification but enough to distract Yoongi from the pain and turn his mind back to what this whole thing was about to begin with—sex. They’re filming kink porn, sure, but it’s still porn.
Yoongi thumps his head forward onto the padded bench. “Fuck. Fuck, Hoba, can’t you just—just…let me come, I need to come, fuck.”
Hoseok finger-fucks him with one hand and rubs across his burning skin with the other, an action that looks sweet but seems to hurt like hell, judging by Yoongi’s hiss. “That’s not my name, is it? Why would I give you an orgasm when you’re being such a brat?”
“Fuck you, I won’t—you—oh fuck, S-Sir, that’s so—”
Something in the air shifts when Yoongi finally uses the title. The beginning of the end. “Yeah? You want Sir to let you come?”
“Want to come, want Sir to let me—let me come.”
His fingers still. “Then beg .”
The leash pulls taut.
Yoongi is caught.
(He was prey from the very beginning.)
“Please, please, fuck me, please. I’ll be g-good, I won’t be a brat or, or anything at all. Please, Sir, I can’t—I’m—”
Jungkook leans forward in his chair, barely stopping the sketchbook in his lap from clattering onto the floor. He’s never seen Yoongi so desperate, a 180 turn from the brat he’d been only moments before.
Hoseok is on top of the world. “Fuck, I love how sweet you sound like this. When you finally break. You wanna come? You wanna come for Sir?”
“Yes,” he gasps. “Yes, for Sir. Please, please.”
“Then come. Be a good boy and do what Sir tells you to.”
Everything is loud as Yoongi reaches his peak. His cries, the creaking of the spanking bench as his back arches, the squelch of Hoseok’s fingers as lube leaks onto expensive leather. But in the end, it almost seems like what pushes Yoongi over the edge is Hoseok’s free hand expertly landing on all the spots that look like they hurt the worst—the spots already showing signs of bruising.
Jungkook remembers his hyungs telling him that he might be a masochist, and he’s inclined to agree with that judgment. In his limited experience, a little bit of sting adds a lot of pleasure—he always used to love when girls would scratch him up with their nails, and it was perfect when Jimin pulled him around by the hair last time. But Yoongi is on an entirely different level. His tolerance must be sky-high; it seems like he really needs the pain in order to come, like without it he might not make the push over the edge.
Jungkook has never tried enduring that much pain. He’s had his share of broken bones and bumped heads as a lifelong athlete with poor impulse control, but it was never on purpose. He’s never held the control…but maybe he’d like it if he did.
(Not control like he’d want to be in charge of a scene where he tries impact play. It’s just that the others have explained very thoroughly how even in a scene where he defers to a dom, Jungkook is still fully in control of his body and what he does with it. That’s why they have safewords and negotiations, after all. So even when he has no control, he has control.)
What would it be like? Jungkook has always been adventurous, and now that the thought is there, he has a feeling he won’t be able to get rid of it.
Maybe he should ask Hoseok about it. Jungkook is free to scene with the others now, after all. Or maybe Yoongi first, to get a sub’s perspective?
But not right now—right now, Yoongi’s shivering form is being wrapped in a blanket and pulled into Hoseok’s lap, and he hardly seems verbal. Other than the occasional shirt tug to bring his dom closer and whisper a few words, all Jungkook hears from him are cute little whines and whimpers of complaint. They’re sounds he never would have expected to hear from Yoongi, but somehow…the softness suits him well. Hoseok seems gentler now too, the adrenaline of the scene tapering away as aftercare commences.
Jungkook’s scene involved everyone, so everyone was involved in aftercare, but Yoongi and Hoseok look like their worlds have shrunk only to include each other. To approach them now would feel like intruding, in a way. Like popping a sacred bubble.
The others are leaving them alone too. There’s activity all around the set, but with a very purposeful quiet to it. Namjoon stores his camera equipment with extra care, Taehyung edges nearby the two as he cleans up the set but doesn’t beg their acknowledgement, Seokjin approaches people individually to relay instructions in a muted tone rather than yelling his demands across the room like the usual tyrant king he pretends to be. It’s not just Jungkook that feels the urgency to be still and let Yoongi and Hoseok continue their orbit around each other.
But Jungkook doesn’t have anything to do to fill the quiet, or at least not anything related to work. The others have perfected their setup and cleanup routines to the letter and no one’s really made an effort to find room for him to contribute yet. Jungkook only minds a little bit. He loves to be helpful, and he loves the praise they give him when he completes the simplest of tasks, but he also worries that he’d mess it up somehow—shatter the silence and not know how to pick up the pieces. He’s okay with not having that be a possibility.
So for now, in absence of a way to help with the post-scene routine, he picks up his sketchbook and curls up in a chair to continue where he last left off.
This assignment’s due date is coming up fast, and he really should have finished it before now. Long before now. But if nothing else, Jungkook is a procrastinator by nature, and he does his best work at the last minute—so really, isn’t this just being responsible? Completing his work when he knows it will come out best?
Jungkook wouldn’t have picked anything in the arts as his major if he knew how annoying it would be to have to be creative on a schedule.
Everything he’s done so far is leading nowhere, so he turns the page and starts again. He lets his pencil sketch mindlessly, doodling figures and shapes whenever they cross his mind, until—
“They left an impression on you, I see.”
It’s Jimin, murmuring in Jungkook’s ear as he bends over from behind to get into his personal space.
(Getting into Jungkook’s personal space is one of Jimin’s favorite hobbies.)
“It’s not…” Jungkook belatedly covers the incriminating corner of paper with his graphite-stained palm, as if it will circumvent the teasing he’s already earned himself. Jimin already clearly saw his latest doodle of two abstract figures in an incriminating and very familiar pose. “I can explain.”
“No need. They’re pretty hot, I’ll admit. I’m not surprised they’re taking the place of the homework you told Jin-hyung you’d be doing during the scene instead of avidly watching and hiding your hard-on.”
Jungkook adjusts the sketchbook in his lap, even though he already knows he’s covered. “I wasn’t lying, this is my homework.”
“Not even gonna deny the hard-on, huh?” Jimin grins. “Anyway, I forgot you're an art major. These sketches really are good.”
Jungkook pointedly ignores the jab. “Thanks. I want to go into photography and film editing. But I also like drawing, and I have to take arts classes outside of my focus area too, so…yeah.”
“Want to draw me sometime? I’m a good model for a figure drawing.” Jimin’s hot breath hits Jungkook’s ear and he forgets how to speak for a moment.
“I…sure. That would be nice.” On behalf of the obvious secret he’s hiding in his lap, Jungkook tries really really hard not to think about what it would be like to have Jimin pose for him. What might happen after too, if he does a good job on the piece…
Jimin snaps his fingers lightly in front of Jungkook’s face. “Focus, hot stuff.”
“I’m focused. I’m so focused.”
“No you’re not,” Jimin sighs. “You’re so worked up, and their scene was only barely 30 minutes long. Don’t you touch yourself at home anymore?”
Jungkook is continually surprised by the ease with which his hyungs discuss sex, and this is no exception. “I, um…it doesn’t feel right.”
“‘Doesn’t feel right’ how?”
“Like…” He chooses his words carefully. “Like, nothing I do feels as good as when you did it for me? I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’ve tried putting my fingers inside, but it hurts a little, and it’s not as good as when you did it. I need someone to teach me how to do it right, because whatever I’m doing now isn’t it.”
Jimin regards him for a moment with a look. “What you just said? I’m gonna need you to go repeat that word for word to Namjoon-hyung. He’ll eat it up, I promise; it’ll play into his corruption kink and he’s actually a great teacher. Win-win.”
“I can’t have scenes until Jin-hyung gives the okay,” Jungkook sighs. As if that’s not the only thing stopping him from going to Namjoon and begging him to teach Jungkook how to masturbate well.
“Then go ask Jin-hyung.” Jimin says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes you can.”
“No, I really can’t.”
“You can,” Jimin insists. “Watch this.”
Before he can be stopped, Jimin waves his hand at Seokjin, and beckons him closer when he catches the boy’s attention. Jungkook’s desperate, pleading whispers and clothing tugs do nothing to stop the train already in motion.
“What’s up?”
“Jungkookie has something to ask you, and you shouldn’t let him weasel out of it because it pertains to his position here. Very important.” He pats Jungkook’s cheek twice and walks away, with a final whispered “Have fun!” thrown over his shoulder.
Traitor.
“Well? What wisdom do you seek from the Grand Director Supreme?”
“Grand Director Supreme?”
Seokjin waves a dismissive hand. “I’m still workshopping the title. But come on, what were you going to ask me? You know how annoying I am when it comes to communication and I’m not afraid to ask you about it twenty times a day until you break.”
Jungkook doesn’t doubt that, actually. Seokjin has nothing if not obnoxious tenacity.
So he braces himself, and it all somehow spills out at once in an anxious, overpaced tumble of words.
“I want to do my first scene! And I know you’re probably thinking I’m too inexperienced and new and that I’m not ready but I want to tell you that I am! I’m so ready! And I am maybe inexperienced and new, but I’ve been learning so much and I’ve read every single thing you’ve sent me and I think I’ve shown how committed I am to being safe, so can you please maybe let me do a scene now?”
Seokjin pulls his clipboard close to his chest, studying Jungkook for a moment. Then: “Sure.”
“I—what?”
“I said sure. You’ve been working really hard, Jungkook-ah. I’m impressed with how far you’ve come in just a few weeks, and as long as you keep up the studying in between scenes—which you’ll be paid for, of course, since it is work—I don’t see why you should wait any longer.”
Jungkook was expecting pushback, and now he doesn’t know what to do in the face of such little resistance. “Oh. Really?”
Seokjin makes a terribly dramatic noise of complaint. “I’m not some dictator; you don’t have to sound so surprised.”
Jungkook bounces on his feet, filled with unused adrenaline that has nowhere to go. “You called yourself Grand Director Supreme.”
“Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like me.”
“Hyung.”
“Alright, alright. Business, then: do you know who you’d like to scene with? I’d recommend picking one of us that can dom, since you seem to fall into subspace so easily. But it’s up to you. Always up to you.”
“I thought…”
As Jimin passes by on his way to bring Hoseok and Yoongi aftercare food, Seokjin steals a dumpling from the plate Jimin made—then exhales sharply and tosses it from palm to palm, startled by its heat. “Shit. Ah, you thought what?”
“I thought my next scene was gonna be with Namjoon-hyung. He was gonna be the first to fuck me.”
Seokjin snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d love that, but it’s not required just because Jimin said it would happen. Jimin says a lot of things, and at least half of them are bullshit.”
“What if I want it to be him? Namjoon-hyung, I mean. I think I’d, um, like that.”
“Then go ask him,” Seokjin says, as if that’s not Jungkook’s worst nightmare.
“Why can’t you ask him?”
“Ah, JK, what kind of hyung would I be if I didn’t let you learn how to communicate these things by yourself? Really, you should be grateful that I’m throwing you into the deep end.”
“You just think it’ll be funny to see me embarrass myself.”
“Yes, that too.”
“First Jimin, now you?”
“I handpicked my team for a reason. We complete each other.”
Jungkook glances over at the man in question—Namjoon’s face is buried in a camera screen, oblivious to the world around him. The way he’s sitting…his pecs are so obvious through his shirt. So big. God, he knew Namjoon works out daily but the evidence being so clear…
“Maybe if you keep staring long enough he’ll just know, telepathically,” Seokjin says sagely.
Jungkook sticks his tongue out at him in a fit of pettiness, then makes himself scarce before Seokjin can get in the last word.
Unfortunately, away from Seokjin means towards Namjoon. He looks up at the sudden movement, smiling when he sees Jungkook approaching. “Hey, Jungkook-ah, how did you like the scene?”
“Ah, it was really good!” Jungkook says. “Hobi-hyung was so different. I always wondered how he kept Yoongi-hyung in line so easily while you—” he cuts off.
Namjoon looks amused. “No, you can say it. I’d never claim to be a brat tamer. He listens to Hoseokie when he's like this better than he’d ever listen to me.”
Jungkook sits next to him on the floor, carefully stepping over various equipment to reach the empty spot next to Namjoon. When he settles, he realizes their knees are touching. It feels more significant than it is. “Does that bother you? That you can’t dom him?”
“I mean…I can dom him. Just not like that.”
“I…don’t understand what you mean.”
“Sometimes Hyung just gets into a mood where he needs to brat it out. You know what bratting is, right? Like you saw earlier?” Jungkook nods. “Well, sometimes that outlet is what helps him relax. And when he’s really bratty, only someone who’s truly willing to work for that submission is a good fit for him; someone like Hobi. Personally, I prefer submission to be easily given. Or…if I do have to work for it, I like it to be more of a coaxing sort of situation.”
“Coaxing?”
Namjoon runs his hand through his hair shyly. “I don’t know if that’s the right word. Like—when I’m guiding a sub who isn’t very experienced, or maybe with certain kinds of roleplay. In those situations I might not be handed submission on a plate, but I enjoy the process anyway because I’m still being respected and I’m in full control. Working with a bratty sub can push me close to domdrop if I’m not careful, because the way they fight back makes me feel like they don’t trust me, or find me worthy. In reality it’s just that brats enjoy the struggle, but it’s not something I like to participate in.”
“I think that would be hard,” Jungkook agrees. “And I think it would make me feel bad too. Bratting I mean, on either side.”
“It definitely works for some people. Hoseokie loves it. He finds it satisfying to see a sub start out so fiery and end up so submissive, knowing that he was the one that broke them down and made it happen. It’s just another element of power dynamics.”
“But you said that you still do scene with Yoongi-hyung sometimes, right?”
“I do. As long as he has a different outlet for his bratting, there’s no problem with us scening. He knows it’s a limit for me, so we don’t move forward with a scene if he feels like he might slip into a brattier headspace.”
“I…don’t know if this is going to come off wrong,” Jungkook admits, “but I can’t imagine him submitting to you. You two are always fighting, and he never backs down.”
Namjoon huffs out a laugh. “I know what you mean. We’ve known each other for so long that it’s pretty easy to push each other’s buttons. But we also respect each other a lot. Hyung knows that in order to do scenes together, I need him to submit to me willingly. So he does, and it’s something special we get to share, outside of all of our bickering. I’m really grateful for it, honestly. We’ve known each other for a long time and I have a lot of trust in him.”
Jungkook follows his gaze: Namjoon is watching Yoongi and Hoseok where they lay cuddled together in the designated aftercare blanket. His smile is impossibly fond, and it only grows fonder when Hoseok whispers something and Yoongi gives a bright, gummy smile in response.
“I’m happy you have someone like that, Hyung,” Jungkook murmurs. He’s afraid speaking any louder might break the moment. It feels sacred, in a way.
“We’ve known each other for ten years, now. Sometimes I can’t believe it,” Namjoon muses. He sounds like he’s about to elaborate, but then he comes back to himself, changing the subject like he’s only just remembered Jungkook is present and listening. “Ah, sorry. I get sentimental about my friends, sometimes.”
Jungkook wonders, just maybe, if it might be more than that.
“What brought you over here, anyway?”
Jungkook loses the ability to wonder about anything except how he’s going to survive this.
“Ah. Well…actually, it—it maybe doesn’t even matter anymore. So. Never mind bye,” Jungkook squeaks out, shooting up to flee the scene of his failure.
Namjoon isn’t having it. “Sit, baby.”
Jungkook sits.
“C’mon. You looked really nervous, so it must be important. I’m not afraid of hard conversations, you can tell me anything.”
“It’s not…hard. Like bad, or anything.”
“But it is something?”
“I…” Jungkook glances at Seokjin, who’s very obviously watching them from across the room. He gives Jungkook an enthusiastic thumbs up and takes a bite out of his now-cooled dumpling. Traitor. “Jin-hyung thinks I need to learn to communicate my…desires.”
“As in…”
“As in—fuck. As in I really want to do a scene and I didn’t even think Jin-hyung would let me but then he did and said I get to decide who to scene with and I told Jin-hyung who I wanted and he told me I have to talk to you—him—myself, because if I want to keep working here I have to learn how to be brave enough to talk about these things because that’s an important part of safety and I totally understand that, except it still feels really embarrassing either way so I don’t know how to approach it and—and so I’ll just say it, okay? I want you to teach me how to touch myself because I don’t know how to do it right and I also want you to take my gay virginity.”
Namjoon, who’s staring at him like he’s Eden’s apple, lets out a long exhale. “You want me to teach you how to masturbate, and then have sex with you.”
“Uh huh.”
“On camera.”
“Yes. My first real scene as an established member of BTS.”
“The first cock you ever have inside of you,” he swallows hard, “will be mine.”
“Mhm. If you say yes,” Jungkook amends. “You don’t have t—”
“If I say yes?” Namjoon cuts in. “Holy fuck, I’m saying yes.”
Jungkook blushes. “Then…I’ll tell Hyung? Is that what comes next?”
Namjoon seems to shake himself out of his stupor. “Yeah, yes. Jin-hyung makes the schedules, so we let him know and he’ll set a date. Then we start on negotiations.”
“When? Negotiations, I mean, when do we…do that.”
“Whenever you’re free,” Namjoon tells him. He seems to have recovered his composure now, posture easy and confident. “We could even do it tonight, if you’re free. I’ll be editing until around five, but after that I’m good.”
“I’m free tonight.” Jungkook doesn’t know if the confidence he tries to project truly comes across the way it should.
Namjoon smiles, and his dimples catch Jungkook in a beautiful, beautiful trap. “Then I’ll see you later, baby.”
Jungkook isn’t sure he’ll make it that long.
***
“Are you sure you have time for this?” Jungkook asks. He’s sitting on a break room chair, perched on the edge as if ready for flight at the slightest shock. “I know you just did a big scene today, don’t you need to rest?”
“Ahhh, Jaykayyyyyy, you’re too sweet for thinking of me. Scenes get me hyped up, not tired. I’ll be up until late, I’d rather be here helping with baby’s first negotiation than anything else. So exciting.” He tries to ruffle Jungkook’s hair as he walks by, laughing when Jungkook ducks out of the way with a protesting whine.
He’s so energetic. Jungkook had passed out for a full hour after his scene with Jimin, and even after waking up he’d just wanted to be coddled all day, but Hoseok seems to be going a million miles an hour with no sign of stopping.
“I do want someone here to supervise, and Hoseokie’s a great choice,” Namjoon reassures. He chooses the seat directly next to Jungkook, so close he could reach out and touch him. “He won’t tease like the others might.”
Jungkook isn’t so confident about that, noting the glint in Hoseok’s eye. But at least it’s not Jimin. Jimin would be so, so much worse.
“Is there always a third person supervising during negotiations?” Jungkook asks. It seems a little like overkill, but he’s not about to say so out loud when he knows that there’s almost always a reason for these safety protocols that he hasn’t thought of yet.
Namjoon shakes his head. “No, it’s usually just the people involved in the scene who negotiate.”
“But our golden maknae is a miscommunication risk,” Hoseok sing-songs, settling onto the couch comfortably. “Gotta make sure that you understand everything, which means everything has to be explained well on our end. Joon-ah asked me to hang out and make sure he doesn’t leave anything out. He’s nervous.”
Namjoon groans, but his withering look at Hoseok can’t pull the words back out from Jungkook’s brain. “You’re nervous? You? But you’re—you’re like, experienced, and stuff.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m nervous exactly. I know what I’m doing, and I’ve done it a thousand times before. But you have to admit that this is a big responsibility.”
“What is?”
“You are, baby,” Namjoon says. “I don’t mean this in a negative way, but you’re young, and you’re inexperienced. I’m about to be your very first experience for a lot of things, and while I’m ready and so excited to take care of you, there’s always a certain amount of pressure being someone’s first. I want to do right by you, Jungkook-ah.” He places a hand on Jungkook’s knee. “I want to make this good for you.”
“Good for you,” Jungkook repeats, mind blanking at the feeling of Namjoon’s fingers spanning the entire top of his thigh. Holy shit. “I will be. I mean—” His gaze shoots up, mortified by his slip-up. “I mean, I’m sure you will. Make it good. It’ll be…I’m excited.”
Hoseok sighs. “How are you both equally whipped? So quickly?”
Namjoon says, “Aren’t you supposed to be a silent observer?”
“I agreed to observe, not to be quiet.”
“Remind me to clarify next time.”
Jungkook should probably be participating in the conversation, but Namjoon’s hand is still resting on his knee, and honestly, it’s just a lot for him to handle right now.
“Should we get started?”
After a beat, Jungkook realizes the question was directed at him. “Sorry! Yes. Um, what comes first?”
“There’s not exactly one correct way to do this,” Namjoon says. His hand finally moves, and Jungkook can suddenly breathe again. “You read the sample negotiation that Jin-hyung sent last week, right?”
“Mhm. I can’t remember everything from it though,” he admits.
Namjoon waves a hand dismissively, “You don’t need to. Just wanted to be sure. The way I usually structure this is first, clarifying inclusive or exclusive negotiations.”
“Can you explain those terms?”
“Inclusive negotiation means we negotiate things that will happen in the scene, and only those things happen. Exclusive negotiation means we negotiate things that won’t happen in the scene, and only those things happen. Often, it can be a combination of the two—for example, an exclusive negotiation but with a few specific things that you base the scene around. But generally I like to pick one structure or the other with my partner as a place to start things off.”
Jungkook nods slowly. “I think…maybe inclusive? Since there’s a lot of kink things that I don’t quite understand yet, and it would be easy for me to miss one that might be a limit if we were only picking things to exclude.”
Namjoon and Hoseok both nod approvingly, and Jungkook feels a wave of pride wash over him. He did good. “That’s very good reasoning,” Namjoon agrees. “I wouldn’t be aiming to push your boundaries with anything crazy this time, especially without being sure it’s something you’re aware of. But I still think it’s a great idea to go the inclusive route, this time.”
“Did you bring your kinks and limits list?” Hoseok asks. “Tae said he sent it over to you, but he wasn’t sure if you’d finished filling it out yet.”
“I did! It’s here somewhere,” Jungkook says, reaching down to rummage through his disaster of a backpack. There’s so many loose paper sketches inside it’s hard to find the printed chart, but eventually he pulls it free with a shout of triumph. “Ta-da!”
“How was filling it out? Did you have trouble?”
Jungkook shrugs. “A little. The ones that I didn’t understand I left blank to talk about later with one of you.”
“Very good,” Namjoon praises, and Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. “Let me see?”
After looking it over, he nods. “This is a really good place to start. Most of the things you’ve left blank for discussion are things I wouldn’t dream of doing for a first scene, so we can skip them for now. We’ll focus on what you know you do and don’t want. Do you have an idea of what you’d like our scene to look like?”
“I want you to corrupt me,” Jungkook blurts out.
He…didn’t plan to say it like that. The silence is deafening, so he fills it.
“I-I want it to be like you’re teaching me how to feel good when I touch myself because I don’t know how, and taking away my innocence. I want to feel small, and pretty, a-and a little bit stupid. I want you to fuck me until I cry, and I want you to come inside of me.” He inhales all the breath he’d used up. “…Please.”
“Holy shit,” Hoseok laughs. “I think you broke him.”
Namjoon does indeed look a little shellshocked. And horny.
“Sorry,” Jungkook winces, though it feels good to know that Namjoon’s very obvious boner is because of him. “If it didn’t come out all at once, it wasn’t going to come out at all.”
“We—” Namjoon sputters. “Yes. We can do that. Yeah, I can—yeah. That actually, uh, aligns with my kinks very, very well.”
“Hold on—Jungkook, are you sure you want to do a roleplay so soon?” Hoseok cuts in, more serious. “You might enjoy it more if you did a scene where you don’t have to keep track of staying in character for the camera.”
“What do you mean, ‘do a roleplay’?”
“This whole corruption kink thing. You said you’d want to roleplay him taking your innocence.”
“Huh? I just meant he should do it in real life,” Jungkook tells him. “Because the only time my hole has been touched was Jimin-hyung’s fingers inside me, but I don’t know how to make it feel good like that no matter how much I try. So Namjoon-hyung is going to teach me how to feel good and then once I’m stretched out he’ll be the first one ever to fuck me and fill me up. All of that’s just real life, not a roleplay. Right?”
They both stare at him.
He stares back.
“Right.” Namjoon swallows hard. “That’s exactly right, baby.”
***
“You’re sure he’ll like it? I mean, I know he said he likes lingerie, and Tae wears it for him sometimes, and—and I think it looks good, but what if he sees it and thinks I look stupid or something? What if I’m not pretty enough for him?” Jungkook chews at his lip anxiously, biting and pulling at the fragile skin; a habit he’s been meaning to break but never did.
It’s not like he thinks he’s unattractive. Plenty of people have told him that he’s good-looking, and he would agree with them, to a certain degree. But the image that Jungkook conjures in his head when thinking of boys in lingerie is one of slim figures and small frames. As a student athlete, Jungkook’s frame is, well, not that. He’s built. Strong. And as much as he likes the way he looks, he can’t help but feel a little bit self-conscious at the possibility that Namjoon might only like his lace-wrapped partners to be small .
Hoseok flicks him in the mouth, startling Jungkook out of his anxious chewing. “Stop that, I’ll have to redo your lips if you keep messing them up.” He finishes with the satin strap he was adjusting, then gives Jungkook a gentle pat and pulls back to look him in the eyes. “You look gorgeous, JK. He’s going to love seeing you in this, I promise. Would I lie to you? Hm?”
“No, Hyung wouldn’t lie,” Jungkook admits. He lets Hoseok carefully pull a shirt over his head, neckline stretched to avoid smearing foundation.
“Then there’s no need for all this stress, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I picked these pieces out just for you, they’re perfect and Joonie’s gonna die when he sees you.”
Jungkook hopes so. Because the intricate lace sits nicely against his body, dark burgundy contrasting tan skin, and he thinks—maybe—he might like doing this again. It makes him feel…different, in a way he can’t explain. Maybe sweeter. Softer around the edges, and pretty in a way his muscled body has never been before.
“You excited? Or just nervous? I can’t tell.”
“Both, I think? I guess…I just want to do well. Seokjin-hyung said that my debut video was so popular it’s almost one of the most viewed in our catalog already. That’s a lot of pressure and I don’t want to disappoint with this one, you know?” Jungkook pauses, pursing obediently as Hoseok comes for him with a lip gloss applicator to fix what he’d smudged. It’s sticky, tastes and feels a little like melted popsicle. “He said that the style of video we did before—the audition thing? Where it was my natural reactions, and just very unpolished and raw, and like—with all of you talking to me off-camera and stuff? He said we don’t have many videos like that posted, but since mine went so well that we’re trying it again this time. It might even become my signature video style, or whatever.”
Hoseok says, “I can see that working well. Your reactions are very…what’s the word…honest? Genuine? It puts people at ease. Makes them feel like they’re really there and part of what’s happening—sometimes porn feels so perfect it’s unrealistic. Is this style something you’d want, though? You know Jin-hyung would cancel the shoot no questions asked if you’d rather go the more traditional route. No background chatter, scene outlining beforehand, that sort of thing.”
“No, it’s okay. That almost sounds more stressful. I get so into my head I don’t know if I’d be able to keep track of what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s like…yeah, there’s a lot of pressure to live up to because we’re repeating the same sort of thing we did before. But in that one I was just being myself, so that’s all I have to do this time too, right?”
“Well said.” Namjoon appears out of nowhere, as if called by the very mention of self-affirmations, and Jungkook jumps at his voice. “I hope you’re not too worried. You’re exactly right, all you have to do is be yourself. I’ll be in charge of the rest.”
The older boy smiles at him gently, dimples on display. He’s wearing his gray sweatpants, the ones that drive Jungkook insane—and he’s not even hard, but he’s so big that Jungkook can see a faint outline in the fabric as Namjoon crouches next to where the two of them are situated on the floor.
Jungkook has seen his cock before. As a certified employee of Bangtan Studios he now has full access to their video backlog, and many of the videos that Seokjin assigned him to watch had included Namjoon. Naked. Jungkook had enjoyed that very much. But the image burned into his brain seems to be overpowering his ability to think, because Namjoon waves a hand in front of his face. “Hey, you okay? You’re zoning out.”
He’s concerned. Namjoon is concerned for Jungkook’s wellbeing, and Jungkook still can’t stop thinking about his dick.
His eyes finally snap from below the belt to above, and meet Namjoon’s. “You’re not—you’re not supposed to be in here!”
It comes out as an accusation much to his embarrassment, but luckily both Namjoon and Hoseok laugh. “I told Taetae to let him in once you were all ready for the scene, and you are,” Hoseok tells him. “All dressed and ready to go, unless you have any questions before things get going.”
Namjoon chimes in, “You look beautiful. It was the makeup, right? That’s why I couldn’t see you?”
Jungkook rubs his hand across the curve of his waist absently, as if checking that the surprise under his clothes hadn’t disappeared. “I…yeah. I asked Hoseokie-hyung to put a little bit of lip gloss and blush on me this time. You like it?”
“I love it. I don’t know how you manage to look so pretty both with and without makeup, it’s not fair to the rest of us.”
“You would look pretty too, Hyung,” Jungkook assures earnestly. “Do you want some?”
Namjoon laughs, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind Jungkook’s ear. “No thanks, sweetheart. Not today.”
Then he leans over, and whispers into his ear: “Besides, I’ll be kissing that lip gloss off of you soon enough, anyway. We don’t want to waste any more than we have to, right?”
Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath. God, he wants it. He wants Namjoon to kiss him until he can’t breathe, and hold him down with hardly any effort and tease him for squirming around. He wants Namjoon to tug down his shorts and see what Jungkook is wearing just for him, and be so turned on he can’t think of anything but finally, finally filling Jungkook up the way he needs to be filled. Needs to be used. He wants—
Namjoon huffs an exhale—a laugh, an infuriatingly sexy laugh—and then stands up. “I’m ready. Are you?”
That sounds like a challenge, and Jungkook has never been one to back down from a challenge.
This time, they use the bedroom set. It’s not all that exciting. The only major furniture is the bed, an armchair and side table, a couple bookshelves and a large rug laid over top hardwood. A few knick-knacks litter shelves, but overall it’s clean and simple—most likely, to avoid excessive cleanup (just the other day Jungkook saw Yoongi scrubbing the wall and muttering about how it shouldn’t be possible for cum to travel so far).
Jungkook fidgets where Namjoon has tucked him against his side sitting on the bed. Their thighs are touching. He can’t stop staring at the sight. Namjoon’s thighs are large, strong. They fill out his sweatpants and then some. In a moment of desperate, horny weakness, Jungkook wonders if they could crush him. Probably? Namjoon-hyung works out like, every day. All those squats, and lunges…Jungkook makes a mental note to come to the gym with him sometime. He might not survive, but it would definitely be worth it. Especially if he wears shorts…
Yoongi interrupts his wandering thoughts. “Eyes up, maknae. I know he’s hot, but I’m trying to fix your lighting.”
“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters, trying not to show his embarrassment at being caught. He needs to learn to be more subtle. Or just stop checking his hyungs out.
(Somehow, the first option seems more doable.)
“You think I’m hot?” Namjoon teases him, nudging an elbow into Jungkook’s ribs.
He turns, hiding his face in Namjoon’s chest. “Shut up!”
“Ooh, baby boy’s feeling brave today,” Jimin says. He’s holding the boom mic in Yoongi’s stead, and dips it low to gently knock Jungkook in the head a few times.
With one hand, Namjoon places a protective hand on Jungkook’s head where it’s pressed against him, and with the other swats at Jimin’s makeshift weapon. “Stop that, or you’re paying for a replacement when it breaks.”
“You’re no fun,” Jimin sighs—Jungkook can hear the pout in his voice, exaggerated and dramatic.
“He’s a sweetheart, leave him be.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats, emerging to stick out his tongue at Jimin and then immediately retreating into the safety of Namjoon’s wonderfully soft pecs again. “I’m a sweetheart.”
“Are we ready, Yoongi-yah?” Seokjin asks, cutting off Jimin’s impending drama and enjoying it.
“All systems are go.”
“I’m ready,” Namjoon says.
“Jungkook?”
“Me too.”
“Then let’s sit back and enjoy the show.”
The adrenaline rush of hearing “action” called is just as exhilarating this time as it was the first time. A single word that conjures up flashes of imagination—suddenly, he can’t sit still with the thought of what sensations are about to come running through his mind and body. He sits up straight.
“You gonna say hello to the viewers, baby?” Namjoon asks.
Jungkook nods enthusiastically, and the motion makes him bounce a little on the edge of the springy mattress where he sits. “Hi, everyone! I’m really excited to be back!”
“Everyone’s missed you,” Namjoon says. “We get at least fifty requests a day for you to be in another video.”
“We’ve been hiding him away to corrupt him with knowledge,” Taehyung says. He filmed a scene with Jin only a few hours ago, so he’s lounging naked except for a robe, exempt from helping with cameras. It makes him look luxurious. Though, he always does.
“I haven’t been corrupted, though,” Jungkook says.
“Hm?”
“You said you corrupted me with knowledge. But it’s not just that, there’s a whole bunch of things I’ve never even tried before, so I’m not corrupted yet, right? That’s what Hyung is gonna do.”
Namjoon’s left hand finds Jungkook’s knee in an instant, like he’s gripping for support. And he really does grip —fingertips digging into flesh like he’s exerting self control with every fiber of his being.
Jungkook isn’t sure why it caused such an intense reaction, but he likes seeing Namjoon struggle to retain control. It makes him think of what might happen when he finally loses it.
But the moment passes. Namjoon releases his leg with a slow exhale. Pink marks are worn into the skin where he’d been holding, and Jungkook finds himself wishing they were the kind that would last. The kind that would mark him as Namjoon’s.
“Jungkook-ah,” Seokjin says. He’s using that voice, now—the one that’s so different from his normal lighthearted tone, the one that only comes out when he’s turned on and in charge. Jungkook dreams about that voice, sometimes. “Tell Namjoonie what you want.”
He knows exactly what he wants. But…saying it out loud? He doesn’t know if he can.
“He’s shy,” Taehyung sighs. “Cute.”
“He wasn’t shy when I was fucking his throat,” Jimin snorts. “Wonder how long it’ll take him to act like a slut this time.”
Seokjin hums. “It’s his natural state, it won’t take long. As soon as Namjoon touches him he’ll get all stupid.”
“No I won’t,” Jungkook protests.
“Oh? You won’t? Then show us,” Seokjin says. The idle amusement on his face makes Jungkook want to prove himself. “Ask your hyung to kiss you and see how long you last.”
“I will.” He turns to Namjoon, determination overriding all else. “Kiss me!”
Namjoon raises an eyebrow.
It’s hot. And intimidating. And it immediately sends Jungkook backtracking. “I mean…um, please?”
“Ask nicely, baby. I know you know how.”
“Will you please kiss me, Hyung? Please?”
“Much better.”
Goddamn, does Namjoon know how to kiss.
It’s hot and heavy, breath warming everything between them and making Jungkook feel dizzy. His hair is getting long, but he’s grateful for that now as Namjoon slips his fingers through the locks lightly—the thought that he could close his grip and leave Jungkook at his mercy at any moment is almost as effective as if he actually did it. As Namjoon’s tongue sweeps across his lips, he moans out loud; he never knew he could enjoy a kiss this messy but the way it’s so intentional—so sure—drives him fucking crazy. He lurches forward, scrambling to get closer, and kisses almost frantically now.
“Slow down, pretty,” Namjoon murmurs against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere. Let me show you.”
“Can be good,” Jungkook breathes.
“I know you can,” he answers, and Jungkook unwinds. He’s good. Namjoon knows.
When they finally separate, a string of saliva beads between them and falls against Jungkook’s face. He doesn’t bother wiping it away, but Namjoon does it for him. “What’s the verdict?” he asks. Jungkook tries to puzzle what the question means, but it wasn’t for him anyway.
“Just like I thought,” Seokjin answers. “A simple kiss and he can’t even think straight.”
“Jungkookie’s never been straight, we’ve more than established that,” Yoongi snickers.
“He really is sweet when he spaces out like this.”
“He can’t even remember what he’s supposed to be doing.”
“Supposed…to be doing?” Namjoon’s thumb presses at his bottom lip, and Jungkook whines when his slack jaw only incites a fond coo, but not entry.
“Your question? That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“Question…”
Jungkook’s mind sparks, and he comes back to himself a little. That was what this whole scene is based around. His question. His request. Ask, and then go from there…whatever happens, happens, that’s what they’d decided.
He just needs to ask. As if it’s that simple. As if Jungkook is comfortable asking for these kinds of things.
“What's up, sweetheart?” Namjoon prompts. He gets up from the bed and stands over Jungkook. The new angle intimidates him—whether that’s what was intended, he’s not sure. All the doms seem to have an arsenal of tools to leave Jungkook floating with hardly any trouble.
“I, um…”
“Hm? Speak up, bunny, Hyung can’t hear you.”
“I…have a question for you.”
Namjoon reaches out—close, so close, they’re touching again now, fuck—and gently tucks loose hair behind Jungkook’s ear. “What’s your question? Be brave and ask, now.”
This Namjoon is dizzyingly confident. So different from the easygoing personality he carries off-set. The change makes Jungkook want to listen, to obey. “Do you remember, um, when I first came here? And Jimin-hyung…”
He gestures vaguely to where Jimin is holding a mic nearby, looking at him like he’s a snack. He tries to ignore it. He needs to keep his wits, and Jimin enjoys stripping them from him.
“When he helped you realize what a sweet little sub you are?” He taps Jungkook’s nose. “I remember.”
“He made me c-come.”
“Several times,” Jimin sing-songs.
“That’s right,” Namjoon agrees easily. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, thank you.” Jungkook blushes, cheeks and nose tinting pink for the millionth time tonight. “Um…”
Namjoon clicks his tongue. “I thought I told you to be brave, baby. Aren’t you a good listener?”
“Yes!”
“Then spit it out.” His thumb still hasn’t left Jungkook’s bottom lip—still slick from their kiss and the remains of smeared lip gloss, and he taps for emphasis with each word he says.
Overcome by the urge to be closer, to touch, Jungkook holds onto Namjoon’s forearms and uses them to pull himself up to a standing position. Namjoon doesn’t back up to give him space. Jungkook ends up with Namjoon’s leg so close between his legs he could just…press. One nudge from the dom and Jungkook would be a whimpering mess. Even at equal height again, he still holds no power. “I don’t know how to—to make myself feel good like he made me feel. I don’t know how to touch myself there.”
There’s a murmur of voices around the room, and from the corner of his eye, Jungkook sees Taehyung slip a hand into his robe and start stroking slowly. He pointedly doesn’t look, though he can already feel the result of that knowledge filling out the front of his shorts. God, he’s too sensitive to these things. Knowing he’s making other people feel good is a dangerous aphrodisiac.
Namjoon’s eyes darken at his admission. “You don’t know how? What do you mean, baby?”
“It doesn’t feel right when I try and I dunno what I’m doing wrong. I—I need Hyung to teach me.”
“And why aren’t you asking your Jimin-hyung, hm? He’s the one who made you feel so good.”
Jungkook shakes his head, pouting just the slightest bit and pointedly avoiding Jimin’s smirk. “Want Namjoonie-hyung to teach me.”
Namjoon coos, and with a gentle push, a controlled fall to the bed, Jungkook finds himself literally and figuratively lowered once more. So much for equal footing. “Teach you what? Be…specific.”
“I w-want you to teach me how to feel good with my fingers in my hole, please?”
Namjoon breathes in sharply, another indication that his mask of control isn’t perfect. It feels…powerful. At the same time, powerless.
“How do I know you weren’t just waiting for the first person to walk in, to pout those pretty lips and blink those big eyes until they gave in?” His hands run through Jungkook’s hair, over and over, until he finally takes grip, maneuvering until Jungkook’s face is looking straight up at him. “Tell me.”
“Because,” Jungkook breathes. “I wore this for you, Hyung. Not for anyone else.”
He tugs the neckline of his shirt aside, showing one single satin strap, and Namjoon chokes.
Sudden movement: Jungkook ends with his back flat against the bed, Namjoon caging him in; his breath goes choppy at the sudden show of dominance. He’s so close that Jungkook can smell his cologne—something spicy but tropical at the same time, and so very masculine. It makes him shiver.
“Fuck, Hoba.”
Hoseok winks at Namjoon. “I dressed him up just for you. Isn’t he pretty?”
“Gorgeous,” he groans, giving into the temptation to suck an aggressive hickey into Jungkook’s collarbone. “Should have told me earlier, angel, I would have had you laid out for me to see this whole time. My pretty little present to unwrap. Fuck .”
And then he rips open Jungkook’s shirt, collar to hem.
The moan Jungkook lets out is choked and incredibly, desperately needy. “Oh my god. Oh my god , Hyung, you just—you—”
He does the same to the flimsy little shorts, and Jungkook loses all ability to speak. He may never speak again, actually, because Kim fucking Namjoon just ripped his clothes like they were paper, just so he could see Jungkook wearing lingerie for him, what the fuck —
“Baby,” Namjoon whispers, after throwing the remains of fabric across the room and finally seeing what they’d prepared for him. “Holy shit.”
Jungkook is wrapped in dark, deep red, hugging every curve of his body like second skin. Extra satin straps criss-cross his torso, cinching his waist; his underwear covers so little that his dick peeks out the waistband. But the part Jungkook likes the best—and by his hungry gaze, the part Namjoon likes best as well—is the lace-lined bralette wrapped around his chest.
Seokjin whistles, trying to act unaffected, but even Jungkook in his half-addled state can hear he’s interested. “You better appreciate having such a pretty toy to play with, Namjoon-ah.”
“Fucking believe me, I will.”
Toy…Jungkook is their toy. It feels right. Something inside him slips lower, deeper. He lets go. The fall is thrilling, and the way he never lands is even better.
His normally sensitive nipples have been rubbing against the snug fabric for so long that when Namjoon reaches down and reverently brushes one with his thumb, Jungkook’s body jerks, and he cries out in surprise and sensation. “Oh?” Namjoon murmurs. “Are you sensitive, baby?”
“Sensitive,” Jungkook repeats. “Feels…feels good.”
Namjoon’s hands run over the entirety of Jungkook’s body, like he can’t believe what he has in front of him. Every time he passes lace, he stretches it—lets it snap back against Jungkook’s skin, like he can’t resist the temptation.
If Jungkook was worried he wouldn’t like the lingerie, he’s not worried now.
“It’s not fair he gets Jungkookie when he’s all dressed up,” Jimin pouts. “Hobi-hyung, you better put him in something pretty next time I play with him too.”
“He looks pretty in everything. I don’t think it matters what he’s wearing,” Taehyung says.
Namjoon is kissing his neck again, hands wandering, though never to the places Jungkook needs. His nipples, his cock, his ass, he aches for contact and desperation grows the longer he goes without. “Hyung…”
“Baby.”
“Touch me, please?”
Namjoon whispers in his ear: “I’m not here to touch you. I’m here to teach you how to touch yourself.”
“Then teach me, Hyung,” Jungkook whimpers. “I don’t know how.”
Jungkook isn’t used to being manhandled—he’s sturdy and muscular, too heavy for most to move at all, let alone without obvious struggle. But for Namjoon…it’s easy . He flips Jungkook onto his stomach and drags him to the middle of the bed like he’s moving nothing more than an oversized pillow left where it wasn’t supposed to be.
It makes Jungkook feel small. The kind of small that closes his worldview to Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon. The kind that makes him feel desperate .
Namjoon doesn’t have the same talent for feigned disinterest that Seokjin and Jimin have. Jungkook can tell he’s trying to keep composure, but—it’s cracking. It was cracked from the beginning, and now that they’re melting into each other, it’s very obvious that Namjoon wants nothing more than to fuck him until he cries. It’s where they both know this scene is going to end.
Hands pull his hips up, and his knees land unsteadily beneath him. “Fuck,” Namjoon groans, grabbing at the view so perfectly displayed for him. “Your cute little ass in these panties…”
“They’re—they’re not panties,” Jungkook slurs, suddenly embarrassed. “They’re not.”
A chorus of snickers echoes around the room. The rest of his hyungs don’t agree.
Neither does Namjoon. “Oh? You think these are just underwear? With all this lace, barely covering anything at all?”
“Y-yeah.”
“No, baby, Hyung knows better. These are panties. Pretty panties for my pretty boy.”
Jungkook burns with a little bit of humiliation and a lot of arousal. He knows his protests aren’t convincing, especially not with the way his hips can’t help but kick every time Namjoon uses the word.
“Please,” he deflects. “Wanna feel good. Please help me.”
“Hush,” Namjoon soothes. He moves away in search of something. “Lie still and keep your legs spread wide, that’s it.”
Jungkook can feel rather than see the camera closing in, the only thing between the viewers and his hole a tiny strip of fabric. He wiggles his ass a little bit, half because he thinks it’ll look good, and half because he hopes it’ll entice Namjoon back to him quicker.
It must be effective, because seconds later he startles as a sharp pain descends on his ass cheek—teeth. When Namjoon pulls back, he admires the bite proudly. It must have left a mark. Jungkook hopes it did, at least. He wants to see proof that this happened, after it’s over.
“Empty,” he complains, even more worked up now by the sting of pain. He’s reminded again about his hyungs’ assumption that he’s a masochist, and if nothing else, there’s proof in the drop of pre-cum that drips from his cock and onto the clean white sheets. “Hyung, teach me how to stuff myself with my fingers?”
Namjoon swears under his breath. “Yeah, honey, I’m here, I’ll teach you. Lube?”
Someone must pass it over, because next thing Jungkook knows, slick fingers are at his entrance over his panties. Not moving, just there. It’s enough to make him clench his fists tight in the bedsheet. “That’s…”
“He’s not even touching you yet,” Hoseok teases. “Already speechless?”
“You don’t have to answer, honey,” Namjoon tells him. “All you have to do is listen to me. Only me.”
“Just Hyung. Only Hyung.”
“Ouch,” someone whines.
“Ignore them.” He drags his fingers back and forth a few times, applying light pressure. “Do you feel that, baby?”
“F-feel it. I like it.”
“This is how you should start,” Namjoon instructs. “Tease yourself. Rub, and touch, and build anticipation.”
“Move the panties,” Yoongi calls. “Let Hoseokie get a shot of him before he’s ruined.”
Ruined…Jungkook likes the idea of that.
Namjoon obliges, pulling the panties to one side for a clear view—the action puts tension on the fabric covering his dick, and he moans. He got hard embarrassingly early, back when Namjoon kissed him, and he’s been diligently trying to ignore the problem since. Hyung didn’t tell him he could touch, so he won’t.
Namjoon continues, “Spread the lube all over too, get your hole all wet and slippery. And once you’re ready…” A finger slips inside, just barely. “You can start with one.”
One isn’t enough. It’s not even all the way in; it only leaves him wanting more, and Namjoon holds him in place no matter how hard he tries to push back to fill himself deeper. He keeps trying anyway.
“Settle,” Namjoon murmurs. “Hyung has to teach you the right way, so be good.”
Jungkook nods frantically, cheek heating from the friction of the cotton sheets against his skin. He wants to learn. He wants to be good. He can be.
“Push in slowly. Move around, stretch yourself. When you feel nice and comfortable, then you can add another.”
“Add another,” Jungkook repeats. “You can, please?”
Namjoon slides another finger in obligingly, and this time it’s even wetter—more lube. “Make it very wet to begin with. Some people like more lube than others, but when you’re starting, you should err on the side of too much rather than not enough. Do you understand?”
“Uh huh,” Jungkook agrees. He feels dizzy; if he were upright he wouldn’t be for long. “F-feels good, Hyung.”
“Are you teaching him or are you doing it for him?” Seokjin asks, amused.
“I’m barely giving him anything at all,” Namjoon complains. “Two fingers an inch inside and you act like I’m spoiling him.”
Jungkook knows what’s coming before it happens, though, and he clenches desperately to try to stop Namjoon from withdrawing. Of course it doesn’t work, but—“No, no, no, Hyung, please , I need more—”
Namjoon brushes hair off Jungkook’s sweaty forehead and kisses his temple. “Seokjin-hyung is right, sweetheart, it’s your turn to try. Go ahead.”
Touching himself on camera sounds a lot more intimidating than being touched. “Hyung will help?”
“Of course, baby. I’ll show you exactly what to do.”
He wastes no time, positioning Jungkook’s hand under the lube bottle and squeezing. It’s cool and slick, and there’s so much of it Jungkook isn’t sure if he can stop it from dripping onto the bed—not when he’s bent over like this for the camera, arms outstretched and reaching behind him.
“Warm it up between your fingers,” Namjoon instructs. “Good, Jungkook-ah, that’s a good boy. Remember what I showed you? Put them right…here.” He gently guides, until Jungkook’s fingers are slip-sliding back and forth across his opening. “Does that feel good, honey? Your fingers feel good rubbing over your little hole?”
“F-feels so good. Hyyuung, please inside? Please?”
“Go ahead, use one finger inside just like I showed you. Slowly, don’t hurt yourself.”
Jungkook pushes inside, much deeper than Namjoon did, and instantly chants: “More, m-more, need—please—”
“Shh,” Namjoon hushes him. “I know, it must be overwhelming for such a little thing. Just let yourself feel good, stretch yourself out.”
Jimin brings his mic in close to pick up all the tiny whining gasps Jungkook lets out as he fully stuffs himself, first with one finger, then two, then finally three. His panties are fucking soaked with a mixture of pre-cum and lube where he’s shoved them out of the way to make room, and his legs are shaking, too. It all feels so good, and yet—it’s not the same, not really. Is he doing something wrong? That spot that Jimin hit, the one that made him see stars—why can’t he feel it?
“Namjoon-hyung?” he sniffles.
Eyes settle on his, dark and affected. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“The s-spot is gone. I-it’s not there, I can’t find it.”
“What do you mean, spot?” Taehyung asks.
“My spot,” he says, close to tears. “Why isn’t it—there’s a spot, there was a spot inside me before that Jimin-hyung found. An’ it felt so so good, an’ it’s not here anymore.” He thrusts his fingers deeper searching for it, but there’s nothing. Is it never gonna feel as good as it did that first time? He just wants to come, he can’t fucking think—
“Oh my god,” Jimin giggles, suddenly understanding. “He means his prostate. He can’t reach it and he’s throwing a tantrum.”
“He’s so…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at Seokjin and apparently seeing what he was expecting to in the dom’s expression. “Fuck.”
Is that what it’s called? Jungkook couldn’t remember before, and can’t tell now if that sounds right. It doesn’t really matter, anyway, only that: “It’s gone. I-it’s not there, can’t find it.”
Namjoon laughs. “Oh, that’s cute, honey. It’s still there, I promise.”
Jungkook frowns, bucks his hips as if it will give him any more leverage against his hand. It doesn’t. “‘S not, ‘s not.”
“It’s there, your little fingers just can’t reach it.” Jungkook’s fingers aren’t little. He knows that, logically, but for some reason hearing Namjoon say it makes it feel like the truth. “You’d need Hyung to do that for you.”
Jungkook sniffles. “Hyung will do it?”
A particularly hard but ineffective thrust of Jungkook’s fingers and his ensuing frustrated moan makes Namjoon coo. “Baby can’t do it by himself?”
“Nuh uh, can’t find it, need Hyung to—to make me feel good, p-pretty please, so close.”
“Then hold still and be a good boy.”
Jungkook’s hand is pulled away and he almost cries out at the loss, but then he’s blissfully, wonderfully full. Namjoon’s fingers are so much thicker than his, and he isn’t precious about spreading them out to make Jungkook moan from the stretch. It’s even better when he finally starts moving, so fast and hard and—fuck, that’s the spot Jungkook was missing, it’s so good, he feels like he’s going to—he’s going to—
The fingers disappear.
“Breathe,” Namjoon commands, and only then does Jungkook realize he hadn’t been. Once his air is back he lets out a despairing wail. “There we go, there’s my baby. Wasn’t that nice? I bet you’re satisfied now, Hyung gave you three fingers to fill you up and pressed your special spot. It was there all along, hm?”
“‘S not enough,” Jungkook sobs, “I’m so—so empty. Need m-more, please.”
Seokjin cuts in. “Such a greedy little thing. You still want more? You’re not satisfied with just his fingers?”
He would be if they’d stayed inside him long enough to matter. Jungkook can’t find the words, but if he could, he’d have some very choice things to say about Namjoon’s timing. He’d been so close.
“That’s okay,” Namjoon reassures, kissing him on the forehead, then on each cheek, on his nose. Finally, a lingering kiss on his lips: he pulls away as soon as Jungkook starts to get too heated with it. “Hyung knows exactly what you need. I’ll teach you how to take it, okay?”
Teach you…teach you how to—
Jungkook is going to get fucked.
“Yes,” he breathes, tears long forgotten. “T-teach me how to take it, teach me to take your, your cock. I can take it so good, I’ll be so good. Take it so-o well.”
“Hoba, film from this side,” Yoongi directs. “Get a shot of his face, he looks absolutely fucked out right now.”
Hoseok whistles, impressed. “Shit, you’re right. I wanna see the change when Joonie splits him open. I dunno if he can even look any sluttier than he already does.”
“I doubt it,” Taehyung groans. He’s stroking himself faster, head thrown back and jaw slightly slack.
“He’s not a slut yet,” Namjoon says breathlessly as he once again slips his fingers inside. “But I’m about to make him one.”
Jungkook babbles the whole time that Namjoon prepares him, unable to think let alone communicate coherently with four fingers stretching him so well, so deep, much better than he did it. Unlike himself, Namjoon can reach Jungkook’s prostate—every so often he presses gently and watches the sub fall apart, then pulls back to stop him from coming. And every time he does, Jungkook loses a little bit more clarity, gets a little bit fuzzier, a lot more teary. His begging isn’t even coherent anymore…not that Namjoon needs to hear the words to know what he wants. What he needs.
“I think it’s time, baby,” Namjoon finally says, when Jungkook is shaking so hard he can’t hold his hips up without help. His voice is huskier and deeper than normal, obviously turned on. Jungkook wants to take the sound and drink it up like nectar of the fucking gods. “What do you think, hm? You ready to take my cock?”
“R-ready, so ready , want Hyung in-inside me, will you—will you teach me to take your cock?”
“Some things you just have to learn by doing, sweetheart.”
Namjoon pushes in, and Jungkook thrashes so hard with pleasure that at least four hands pin him to the bed.
He’s so full. So. Full. Namjoon isn’t even moving yet, and it’s still so much. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t speak. “Yeah? You like me filling you up? Fuck, baby, so fucking tight around me.”
Someone laughs in disbelief. “Even I have trouble taking Joonie’s cock, fuck…”
“Are you getting a close up?”
“I got it. He’s sucking Hyung in like he’s made for it.”
“Of course he is. We already knew he’s a slut.”
“If he wasn’t a slut before he will be now that he’s had his first cock.”
Jungkook tilts his head obediently when Namjoon goes for his neck, biting and sucking marks into the delicate skin. The sting only adds to the overload of sensations, in the best kind of way—and every time he lurches for free skin to mark, his cock jostles all the right places inside Jungkook. He clenches, Namjoon groans. “Fuck. Gonna mark you up, everyone’s gonna know you’re mine. Gonna walk around with fucking bruises on your neck and you’ll tell everyone who left them, right? Gonna tell them you’re mine?”
“Yours,” Jungkook chokes out, finally finding words. “Yours. Please. Need it.”
“Need me to fuck into your cute little hole, baby?” He gives one thrust, grinning breathlessly when Jungkook cries out, eyes rolling back into his head.
“M-more, please, Oppa—”
Everything stops.
He didn’t mean to say that. Holy fuck, why did he say that—
“Call me Oppa again,” Namjoon growls, and suddenly he’s thrusting deep, and hard, and fast, and Jungkook loses what little shame he had. “Call me Oppa, baby, tell Oppa how good he’s fucking you.”
“Oppa,” he gasps. “Oppa, feels so good, ‘m s-so full!”
Yoongi is laughing—at least, he thinks that’s who it is. “Hoseok-ah, did you tell him to say all that?”
“He’s into that all on his own. It was on Joonie’s kink list but it never came up; must have left quite an impression.”
Jimin still has a hand on Jungkook’s back from when he thrashed around earlier, and he slides it up to the nape of the sub’s neck to pet him. “Aw, were you thinking about your Oppa all night? Saw the word once and couldn’t get it out of your pretty little head?”
Jungkook wants to deny it, but Jimin is right. He’d done a double take after seeing ‘Oppa kink’ in the green section of Namjoon’s list, and, well…he couldn’t stop thinking about it after. At first, with denial—Jungkook isn’t a girl, so why would he like calling someone Oppa? It made no sense. The heat in his cheeks every time his mind wandered back to it must have been a fluke.
Except it wasn’t. Because the word just slipped out, and now he’s getting fucked within an inch of his life and crying for his Oppa and can’t seem to give a shit about the reason behind his newfound kink. He likes it, and it’s sexier than fuck, and Namjoon is into it, and that’s all that matters right now.
He lets himself sink into the new direction of the scene. Namjoon will direct them both. He can let go.
“Fuck. You love Oppa’s cock? You love it splitting you open?”
“S-so good,” Jungkook moans. “Good, good, ‘s good. Hyung. Oppa. I—fuck.”
Namjoon leans down to cage Jungkook in from behind. The heavy weight feels secure, safe. And muscles flex against his skin with every thrust.
(Jungkook, not for the first time, wonders distantly if muscle kinks are a thing. If they are, he has one.)
“Call me whatever you want baby,” Namjoon growls into his ear. “It’s not going to change the fact that you’re going to come on my cock.”
And—oh. Oh, he is. The building pleasure was simmering before, and now it threatens to boil over. “Please? Please, Oppa? Make me, make me come?”
Namjoon laughs breathlessly. A drop of sweat falls from the dom’s browline and lands between Jungkook’s shoulderblades, pooling with the sheen of sweat already there. “Baby, fuck .”
Nearby, Taehyung gives a strangled cry—Jungkook turns his head just in time to see the boy spill cum onto his fist.
Jimin reacts first, delighted: “JK, you see that? You look so good taking your Oppa’s cock that Taetae came all over himself like a messy puppy. Couldn’t even hold on until the cameras cut.”
“Shut up,” Taehyung whines. “I’m always the one doing Oppa kink and lingerie with Joon-hyung, I’ve never seen it from the outside. That look he gets on his face? God. And the jaw thing, it’s so fucking sexy.”
“Jungkook-ah. Baby,” Namjoon murmurs. He’s still pressed close to Jungkook, voice low and rumbly, like they’re just for him and not for the camera. They’re for both, of course—the boom mic is hanging overhead and Hoseok has a lens pointed at both of their faces—but the intimacy of their two bodies rocking, so close together, feels like it’s meant just for him. “Such a good boy. So pretty while I fuck you. So pretty you made Taehyung come, just for you.”
Jungkook can’t stop staring at Taehyung’s hands, the way he holds them up in the air searching for wipes while cum drips down to his delicate wrists. Seokjin approaches him with wipes, but—
“Stop!”
Everyone’s heads whip towards Jungkook in perfect synchronicity.
Namjoon stills his hips immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“No, I didn’t mean—” The sudden loss of stimulation makes him want to cry. It’s not what he wanted at all.
He tries to fuck onto Namjoon’s cock himself, but weight presses him into the bed and makes it impossible. “C’mon, honey, talk to me. Why did you ask me to stop?”
“Not you!” he wails. Namjoon is still hot and thick inside of him, but he won’t fucking move, and the edge slips further and further out of reach. Jungkook can’t help it: he kicks his feet against the bed in frustration. “Keep going!”
“Was it me?” Taehyung asks, and it’s only the anxiety in his voice that snaps Jungkook out of his pleasure haze. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”
Jungkook shakes his head, takes a few deep breaths to center himself until the words can come out correctly. “No! No, ‘m not uncomfortable.”
“Then why did you ask to stop?” Seokjin says.
“I…” Jungkook doesn’t want to say it out loud now, but they all look so concerned he kind of has to. “I didn’t want you to clean up his, um…his cum. Didn’t want you to waste it.”
“Didn’t want to waste it?”
“I…wanted to clean it up for him.” Jungkook’s face would have turned bright red if he weren’t already that color from the exertion of sex. “I like the taste.”
The room is silent, and then all at once it’s not—the slap of skin as Namjoon starts fucking him again without warning, Jungkook’s own moan at the sudden pleasure, Taehyung’s sputtering, and finally Jimin: “You yelled for the scene to stop because you’re such a slut that you can’t stand seeing cum without thinking it’s a treat just for you?”
“Yes,” Jungkook gasps, hiding his face so he doesn’t have to see the incredulous delight spreading over the features of every dom in the room. “Yes, want Taetae’s cum.”
“Hyungs, can I?” Taehyung asks, stumbling to his feet. His robe is long gone, left behind on the chair—he’s naked. “Want to, please.”
Hoseok slaps Taehyung on the ass, hard, to urge him forward. “Go on, give the baby his treat.”
Jungkook raises his head up in preparation, tongue out, and the second Taehyung is close enough he sucks the boy’s fingers into his mouth. Cum tastes just like how Jungkook remembers—warm, a little bitter, but mostly flavorless. It coats his tongue, and his eyes roll back as Taehyung’s fingers push deeper into his throat.
“Selfish little thing,” Seokjin sighs. “If you’re going to demand cum from your Hyungs you’d better get all of it. Hurry now, he’s going to drip some. His wrist.”
Jungkook is rocked hard with every thrust from Namjoon behind him, and his field of vision rocks with him—he can’t tell left from right amidst the pleasure, let alone where Taehyung’s wrist is at. Luckily, Taehyung takes mercy and brings it right to his mouth, where Jungkook licks up every drop he can find with enthusiasm.
“Good boy,” Taehyung murmurs breathlessly. “Fuck, this is hot.”
“You got it all, there’s no more,” Yoongi laughs when Jungkook has cleaned away the evidence completely. “Sorry, pup.”
“I’ve got plenty,” Jimin teases. “Come over here and get it.”
“No,” Namjoon snaps. “He’s mine. You already gave him a treat, let me give him what he really needs, now.”
Jungkook whimpers at the sharp tone—something about Namjoon being so possessive sends heat shooting through his entire body. “Oppa?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Is, is Oppa gonna fill me up?”
“I’m wearing a condom, baby, I can’t give you my cum this time. Okay? Oppa will still make you come, I’ll still make you feel so good, I promise.”
Jungkook doesn’t like that at all. He wants to feel owned. He wants Namjoon to mark him up inside and out, wants to know who he belongs to. “Take it off? Wanna be filled up. Want—want cum. Want your cum inside me, so deep, I—”
Namjoon’s hips stutter. “You want that? You’re sure?”
They left it as an option during negotiation before, and now Jungkook thinks he might die if he doesn’t get it. Right now, immediately. “Off. Off, take it off, want Oppa’s cum in me. Please? Been good, ‘m so good for you, please give it to me, make me all messy—”
Namjoon doesn’t even wait for his babbling to stop, pulling out in an instant and tugging at the condom, then catching the lube someone throws at him to slick up once more. “Jungkook-ah…sweetheart. Been so good for me, I’ll give you what you want. Oppa’s gonna fuck you raw.”
When he slides in this time, it’s different. Warmer, wetter, more primal. Jungkook can feel every movement of Namjoon’s cock, the way it fits inside him like it’s meant to be there. And—fuck, when it hits Jungkook’s prostate—
“I, I, oh,” Jungkook cries. Tears stream down his face as pleasure builds faster than ever before. He’s already so fucking close, just from a few thrusts of Namjoon bare inside him.
“You like that?” he growls. “Feels good, right? My bare cock inside you?”
“So close, ‘m so close! I lo-love it!”
“Hold on, baby, hold on. Gonna make you feel so good.” Namjoon grabs Jungkook then, and pulls his torso upright, until they’re pressed together with the dom’s arms pressed around him. Both on their knees, Namjoon’s cock thrusts even deeper from this angle. “I can feel you clenching around me, fuck.”
“Holy shit,” someone breathes. “Look.”
Jungkook doesn’t know what they’re talking about, not at first. But then, Hoseok gestures down, and—
Namjoon’s cock is so big, Jungkook can see a bulge in his stomach.
He cries out, hysterical with arousal, and Namjoon curses at his unintentional clenching. “Fuck. Fuuuck, sweetheart, can you see Oppa’s cock through your tummy?” His hand moves to press down on it, and it only makes the feeling more intense. He’s being split apart in the best way; he’s too small and Namjoon is too big but he still can’t help but want more. “‘M so deep inside your little hole, baby, that’s why you can see my cock. I’m so deep I could—I could breed you. Yeah. Yeah, gonna knock you up. You wanna be my little slut?”
“There it is,” someone laughs. “I was wondering how long he’d hold onto the breeding kink.”
“Yes! Yes, please!” Jungkook’s head rolls back limp against Namjoon’s shoulder, then snaps forward restlessly, mouth wide open and moaning in rhythm, volume spiking with each time their hips connect. As he watches Namjoon’s cock move, he finally notices his own—it’s bright red, dripping precum like a leaky faucet. He reaches to touch it on impulse, then drops his hands with a sob. He doesn’t have permission. He can’t.
Namjoon doesn’t give it. “That’s right, hands off. Oppa’s gonna make you cum on his cock, baby, gonna make you come as I fill you up. Gonna—” he moves one of his arms to toy with the lace covering Jungkook’s pecs, tweaks a nipple through the fabric and hugs tighter with his other arm as Jungkook squirms—“Gonna breed you baby.”
Jungkook latches his hands onto Namjoon’s wrists, not to stop him, but for something to ground himself with. “I want it! Breed me, please, fill me up—I need—”
“You need my cum, taking me so well, taking me raw—”
“So close, I—”
“Me too, baby, let Oppa breed your little hole—”
Jungkook comes first, all over his lace panties, and his vision whites out from the pleasure. It feels neverending—maybe because Namjoon never stops fucking him, through the whole thing, until he’s limp and spent. He would be flat on the bed if not for the dom holding him upright.
It’s even hotter in a way, that Namjoon keeps fucking him even after he’s too weak to stay up. He doesn’t even seem to struggle with Jungkook’s weight, just fucks harder chasing his orgasm. It’s almost like—
“Come on, Joonie,” Hoseok encourages. “He’s all yours. Breed your little toy, fill him up deep inside. It’ll feel so good, just let go.”
A toy. Jungkook is his toy to fuck, and to breed.
With a whimper, Jungkook clenches one last time, and Namjoon’s cock pulses inside him. Over, and over, until everything is warm and full and he’s so satisfied he can’t keep his eyes open.
He feels himself lowered onto the bed carefully, Namjoon still nestled inside him. Everything’s hot. Inside and out. His chest heaves.
“Jungkook-ah,” someone calls. A hand brushes hair off of his sweaty forehead. “You okay?”
“Mm.” He doesn’t have words yet, but he presses against the doting hand in search of more affection. It delivers, petting him tenderly.
“Joon? You’re good too?”
“Hyung, I’ve never been better,” Namjoon slurs. Jungkook likes the low, buzzy vibration that comes from Namjoon’s chest pressed against him. “He was so good. Such a good boy. Did you see him? You saw, Hyung?”
“I saw. You both were perfect. Did so well breeding our sweet boy.”
Namjoon is so different now that the scene is over—softer, a little bit out of it. Like Jungkook is. It seems like the others were expecting it too, based on the way they’re gathered close to provide physical touch and praise.
Namjoon sighs and squeezes Jungkook tighter, so tight that he squeaks.
“You’re squishing him, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says. The cameras must be off now, because his voice is close.
“He deserves to be squished.” Namjoon kisses his head. “Squishable. He’s a good boy. You saw how well he took it, right?”
“We saw,” Seokjin repeats, amused. “He took cock like a champion.”
“He was the best. He let me come inside him, did you see? And he called me Oppa, his pretty voice, it was…and, and he’s wearing—” Namjoon cuts off his words in favor of yet again running hands over Jungkook’s lingerie. “Looks so good. Never want him to take it off.”
“I know, Joon-ah, he was perfect. I need you to listen to Hyung, now, though. Can you pull out? Let’s give Koo’s poor ass a rest, you really pounded into him.”
Jungkook cracks one eye open. “Noooo.”
“There he is,” Jimin snorts. “Just threaten to take away cock and he’s wide awake.”
“Wanna…wan’ be full. Wanna keep his cum inside.”
“Did you hear that? He wants—”
“Yes, we heard him,” Seokjin says. He’s fond but exasperated. “Hoba, get me a plug?”
“You’re gonna plug my cum inside him?” Namjoon asks dreamily.
“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Seokjin deadpans.
Hoseok returns quickly with the plug. While Jungkook can’t help but whine at the emptiness of Namjoon’s cock leaving him, the plug is enough of a replacement to quiet his complaints.
Like his first scene, it still takes Jungkook a while to feel coherent again. The others seem to expect it. Their comments float just out of reach, cushioning the air around him like a blanket; he lets the warmth encompass him, wrap him tightly—or maybe that’s just Namjoon’s iron grip going unchecked. Either way, he feels safe.
The noise of the room does eventually begin filtering through his cloudy consciousness again, and when it does, he notes with amusement that 90% of said noise is coming from Namjoon. While Jungkook is near-nonverbal, Namjoon can’t seem to stop talking. But it’s not eloquent and firm like he’s used to hearing from the dom, it’s all stuttering and whines and post-orgasmic loopy bliss. Like Jungkook, but chattier.
Jungkook can’t help but wonder if the reason all of his hyungs are hanging around for his aftercare is because Namjoon needs just as much coddling as he does.
“Hyung,” Namjoon sighs for the millionth time in the last ten minutes. “I think Jungkookie’s so pretty. D’you think he’s pretty too?”
“Which hyung is he asking?”
“I don’t think he cares, really.”
Yoongi answers the call. “You’re right. He is very pretty.”
Namjoon nods in agreement, as if he hadn’t been the one to say it in the first place. “Where did you even find him?”
“Nobody found him,” Seokjin says, “he found me. I simply exist and pretty boys come running in search of my approval.”
“Wow. Good job,” Namjoon tells him. Jimin, the one who actually created the ad that led Jungkook to them, looks decidedly unimpressed.
“You’re even spacier than usual, Joon-hyung,” Taehyung says. “Jungkookie must have been an excellent fuck. I’m a little jealous.”
He’s jealous? Jungkook can’t help the image that sparks in his brain. Taehyung whining and moaning as he fucks deep into Jungkook, changing his speed at the doms’ directions—Jungkook would be a fucking mess with the boy’s enormous cock hitting all the right spots inside of him. Does Taehyung often top other people? Would he be experienced and sure, or sloppy and frantic? Would he come quickly, or draw it out?
He doesn’t realize his thoughts are playing out on his face—eyes unfocused and wide, lip trapped between his teeth, cheeks pink, air exhaled in a soft huff—until there’s quiet laughter. “I don’t think you have to be jealous, Tae. He seems more than willing to fuck you, too.”
He is, but he doesn’t want them to know that. It’s embarrassing. “Shhhhhh.”
“There you are,” Jimin says. “I thought that plug was keeping you dumb, you were so quiet.”
This isn’t helping Jungkook’s flushed cheeks.
“Leave him alone,” Namjoon scolds. “He doesn’t have to talk.”
“Don’t poke the bear, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok warns with amusement. “You know how he gets.”
Jimin throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Just thought Taetae might appreciate knowing the kid gets squirmy even thinking about him.”
“‘M not a kid,” Jungkook grumbles.
“Ah, but I’m the hyung, and that’s what truly matters. Don’t you agree?”
“You’re only…only two years older.”
“But so, so much wiser.”
A devious thought falls directly into Jungkook’s lap and he seizes it immediately. “Namjoon-hyung? Make him stop.”
Namjoon immediately scowls. “Jimin-ah!”
“Alright, alright,” Seokjin mediates, foiling Namjoon’s clumsy attempt at propping himself up with one firm push to the shoulder. He goes down easy, still malleable and eager for his oldest hyung’s attention. “Jimin-ah, let the poor boy enjoy his aftercare.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook pouts, enjoying the way Namjoon noses at the back of his neck protectively. It makes him feel small, just like everything else Namjoon does.
Yoongi stands up and wanders to his abandoned camera equipment to finally start putting it all away, as if deeming both Namjoon and Jungkook present enough to stop worrying over. “We’ve got a baby brat on our hands. Hoba, you better get ready.”
“JayKayy,” Hoseok says, “you’re not gonna be a brat, are you? You’re a good boy, right?”
His tone shifts through the sentence, starting light and ending heavy. It’s mesmerizing, and a very, very effective hit to Jungkook’s still vulnerable psyche. “I…mhm. Gonna be good. Can be good.”
Taehyung giggles. “You’re gonna get him all worked up again, and then what?”
“I could fuck him,” Namjoon says reverently. “I’d do it again.”
A chorus of groans and laughter sounds. “Yes, Joon, we know you would. But the poor boy needs a rest. Your monster cock isn’t the easiest choice for a first time, or a second time.”
“I can do it,” Jungkook swears, eyes wide. “I’ll be good.” He already misses the stretch…the plug isn’t nearly enough. He wants to fall apart, he wants to be pounded so hard he can’t breathe, he wants Namjoon to teach him everything about sex. In fact…
He tries to discreetly wiggle his hips backwards against Namjoon’s cock, and he thinks he almost gets away with it—but then he’s tugged away and pulled in Seokjin’s lap before he or Namjoon can react. “None of that, now.”
“Nooooooo,” Jungkook whines. “Lemme go. I wan’ cock.”
Seokjin is stronger than he looks, and Jungkook is still weak and floaty from his scene—his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, his arms filled with lead. “Absolutely not. You’ll be lucky if you can walk tomorrow, I’m not letting you do it all over again, little slut.” It’s said as an endearment, and Jungkook takes in a shuddering breath. He’ll never get over that word coming out of Seokjin’s mouth.
He tries one last time to squirm away, but Seokjin doesn’t allow it. Jungkook consoles himself: if he wasn’t so fuzzy, he’d definitely be stronger. It’s this subspace thing, that’s all. He’s just a little fucked out right now.
Namjoon isn’t happy about this new development, though he does look a little distracted by having Jungkook, lingerie and all, in his line of sight once more. “Give him back? Please, Hyung? Can I have him back?”
“Do you both promise to behave?”
“Promise, Hyung, I won’t fuck him at all,” Namjoon says, “even though he does look really fucking good with cum all over his lingerie—”
“Focus, Joon.”
“—but I’ll behave, I promise I will.”
“Jungkookie?”
A wistful sigh. “I wan’ cock.”
“Yeah, pretty baby, we know. You gonna be good anyway?”
“Mhm.”
Jungkook is passed back to Namjoon once more, and immediately wrapped in muscled arms. “I think…think I have a muscle kink,” he says through a yawn. His body is exhausted, and the bliss is wearing down into sleepiness the longer he stays cuddled up to a warm body.
Jimin answers him: “What a surprise. We never would have guessed.”
“He has a muscle kink,” Namjoon echoes, delighted. “I have muscles.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Yoongi says, “go to sleep. You’re delirious from getting good ass.”
“Jungkook has a good ass. Did you see it?”
“Joon, I swear to god—”
Taehyung leans in close, whispering to Jungkook. “They’ll keep arguing for a while, so you should get some sleep. Okay? His tits are good pillows, take advantage of it.”
“We’ll clean you up, don’t worry. I wouldn’t let such nice lingerie stain,” Hoseok teases.
“Good,” Jungkook slurs. “‘Cause I want to wear it again.”