Jungkook knows he's gonna get hazed. He expects to have to chug a whole handle of vodka or streak across campus or…. Well, he isn’t sure what exactly he expected.
But it certainly isn’t this.
He’s strapped down to the kitchen table, cuffs linking him to each of it’s legs. In retrospect isn’t too bad, except for the fact that he’s naked.
And hard, which doesn’t really help his case.
There are three fingers prying his mouth open and another three up his ass. Both sets are prepping him for cock, but he isn’t sure who’s. Not that he really cares. I mean, he probably should, this he knows, but his so called brothers are too hot for the animal part of his brain to make any complaints.
He’s trying to tell himself to be embarrassed, reminding himself that he’s in a room full of cheering students who he doesn’t doubt are bound to be in some of his classes. In fact, as his eyes flicker around the room he recognises some of them but it just doesn’t… register.
He’s drunk. Not too drunk, but drunk enough, though the more pressing issue is how deep into subspace he’s falling. Another pair of fingers wrap themselves around his cock and he arches up, groaning in relief.
He’s been laying here for longer than he can count. It’d started with him stripping down and situating himself on the table, only to find four pairs of cuffs being locked around his ankles and wrists before Namjoon’s gravelly voice is asking, “Are you alright with this?”
“Are you finally hazing me?” he counters, eyes trained on his mouth.
It twists into a smile, and he replies, “Something like that…”
It’s too vague a statement, enough to set off alarms in anyone head but his own. The problem is, he wants so bad to impress him, all of them really, that he figures that he’ll take whatever it is they’re willing to give. He deserves to be in this frat, he reminds himself, he’s not gonna pussy out.
It’s relief he feels when a warm tongue dips into his belly button. Relief that he, in the moment, feels a little guilty for. Though that's replaced instantly with lust when he sees Jimin standing over him, bottle of tequila in hand, “Want another shot, baby? This is about to be a hell of a night.”
Not that he’s really listening. His smothered inhibitions are trying to fight their way back to the forefront of his mind, but they’re doing a poor job and besides, the touch feels good, as does the warmth emanating off Jimin’s body. So, instead of making an effort to process what he’s just heard, he opens his mouth wide earning a coo from a voice he doesn’t quite recognise before a gulp is poured into it.
The crowd cheers and Jimin turns around, both hands in the air, “Body shots!”
What else is Jungkook to do but lay there and take it. Lips and tongues and mouths everywhere as he fights a losing battle against his cock, which is plumping up with each line of coke snorted off his clavicle.
He knows he'll remember the ones Yoongi does especially well, the way he licks up the remnants of powder before letting his tongue drag it’s way up to his neck.
That’s when things escalate. He whines, unable to help it with the elder’s warm breath fanning over his neck.
“You want it, baby?”
“Mmhmm,” is all he can manage, eyes rolling back into his head. His fists are balled up on the table and his toes are curled and by the time the next person is slurping jager out of his navel, Yoongi’s got his tongue in his mouth.
It’s a lot, but he loves it, wishing more than anything he could get out of the handcuffs and curl his fingers through the elder's hair.
He feels teeth in his inner thigh and that’s when he breaks away, eyes finding their way to Taehyung’s, who’s situated himself between his legs. He cocks an eyebrow at Jungkook, as if to say, ‘don’t mind me’, opening his mouth only when the younger doesn’t look away, “Wanna stop? Looks like you want this real bad, not gonna lie. Even with everyone watching the way they are.”
He’s on something. Not the same thing as Yoongi, but his pupils are blown and there’s this airy quality to his voice that Jungkook isn’t sure why he trusts. He turns his eyes to the crowd and away just as quick. They don’t look… mad? Uncomfortable? Most of them are just staring in interest, others are hard in their pants, and there are a couple especially drunk ones cheering, but he can sense no negativity or disgust.
No, though he usually feels his skin crawl when a room’s worth of eyes are on him, tonight he feels completely unaffected. They like it, he realises, the epiphany drawing a twitch from his cock.
Taehyung coos, near inaudible over Yoongi’s harsh breathing. He’s holding himself back, this he can tell, but he isn’t entirely sure from what.
“Awful slutty of you to like it this much,” the honey-like tone of Tae’s voice is interrupted by Yoongi’s much gruffer one, “Seems kinda like you wanna get fucked in front of the whole party.”
He bites his lip. He doesn’t quite trust his voice right now, not when the last thing out of his mouth sounded as pathetic as it did. That being said, he does wanna get fucked in front of the whole party, now that Yoongi mentions it. So he forces out a small, “Yes.”
“Obedient little whore, aren’t you?” he yanks Jungkook’s hair, shifting him up on the table so his head hangs off, “Take cock like a pro?”
Jungkook’s never tried. He’s kind of a prude save for the lacklustre loss of his virginity, but he isn’t going to tell Yoongi that. Sure, he has his fair share of very intricate and admittedly deviant fantasies, but he’s put a solid zero to the test.
“Y-yeah,” he's still reeling from Yoongi’s sudden aggression. “Take cock like a-nngh-”
He doesn’t let him finish, instead pulls his head to face his groin and pushes it forward. Jungkook forgets how to breathe for a moment, the scrape of denim on his cheek disorienting.
As if this isn’t enough, three things proceed to happen at once. First, he registers just how hard Yoongi is, second, Taehyung squeezes a hand around his cock, and finally, he feels a sharp pain on his right nipple and a duller one on his left.
He muffles a cry into Yoongi’s cock, the vibrations only causing the elder to moan and grind his hips harder into his face. And whether it be a result of the excruciating build up, how drunk he is, or the simple need to be accepted, he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out.
He isn’t sure if Yoongi’s going to feel it, but he does, pulling away to stick three fingers into his mouth just as another three enter his ass.
For a moment, it’s excruciating. Blinding even, and he’s left to bite down on Yoongi’s fingers in an attempt to hold his tears. It’s a poor one. They well up and spill down his cheeks anyways, not that Yoongi cares. No, he slaps him instead, hard across the cheek.
And in what is so far the most humiliating moment of the night, Jungkook moans, loud and unmistakably pleased at the pain.
“Holy shit,” Jimin, who he now realises is the one working his nipples, laughs. “Not just any old slut, you’re a pain slut, huh?”
Jungkook lets out a noise of embarrassment and tries to turn his head away, but Yoongi catches it, squeezing his jaw as hard as he can, “Own up to it, baby. Tell the whole fuckin’ room how bad you get off on being hit.”
There’s no doubt in his mind that he’s red all over and out of reflex, he tries to squeeze his legs together and cover himself, but it’s futile. He is chained to the table after all.
Taehyung cackles at this, sliding his lubed fingers out an inch before jamming them back in. He can’t help the way his eyes roll back into his head at the stretch, the burn having faded just the right amount for his mind to register the pleasure.
That’s when Jimin starts to jerk him off and his eyes catch those of Hoseok from Stats in the audience.
Before he can react, however, his mouth is being stuffed full of Yoongi’s cock.
He doesn’t hold back. It’s almost as if his reaction to being slapped had served as some sort of green light because before he knows it, he’s sunk to the hilt. Jungkook gags, but he doesn’t care, the action instead urging him to prop a knee beside his head and do his best to slide deeper. He watches him struggle, not a hint of remorse in his voice when he says, “Look at you, wearing fucking makeup like the cheap slag you are? Is that what you are? Are you a useless whore, Jungkookie? Come on, admit it to hyung.”
Jungkook gurgles around him, trying his best to get him far enough out to breathe. But he won't budge, and even though his gag reflex has for now gone lax, he’s being suffocated.
Thankfully, he seems to notice, pulling it out with a slick sound to leave him gasping for air. He coughs, and sputters, only being given a moment before Yoongi’s slapping him across the face with his length.
He pulls his hair, much harder this time and leans in close, eyes bloodshot and burning with adrenaline.
He can feel his wet breath fanning across his skin, reeking of tequila and smoke, “Useless piece of shit. Wanna get fucked so bad that you can’t even answer a single question for me?”
He opens his mouth to reply, but that’s when what he assumes to be Taehyung’s cock forces it’s way into him and he yelps in surprise.
Yoongi slaps him again. “Come on, baby. You too stupid to string a sentence together? Can’t give head or take a cock. What are you here for, huh? Other than wasting our time?”
Much like his friend, Taehyung has no reserves, picking up a rather brutal pace right off the bat. It leaves the younger dizzy, mouth opening and shutting dumbly as he tries his best to talk over the intrusion.
“Useless w-whore,” he finally grits out, “U-use. I’m a- fuck- useless pain-whore.”
“That’s right,” he's fucking his throat again, somehow deeper than before. He gags once more, but this time he likes it, the way his body spasms. “Stupid fucking slut.”
Each word goes straight to his cock. He feels disgusting, but in the best way possible. Dirty and carefree, thinking only of pleasing, of taking and taking until he’s all burnt out and stuffed full of cum.
His eyes sting, the kohl he’d smudged above and beneath them running into them. His vision is blurred until he blinks the tears away to recognise Namjoon hovered over him. He’s naked, as is Jimin, who’s standing beside him. He isn’t touching him anymore, Jungkook thinks hazily. He hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in the two cocks inside him.
“Such a pretty boy,” Namjoon breathes. His tone sounds strangely removed, but he’s soon pinching his fingers over Jungkook’s nose to cut off his breathing, “What would your daddy think if he knew how fucking easy you are? Think he’d be proud?”
He lets go and Jungkook thrashes to get in as much air as he can around Yoongi's girth.
He lets out a soft sob, arching (choking) when Taehyung leans forward and sinks his teeth into Jungkook’s stomach. Namjoon and Jimin laugh down at him, the smaller of the two circling around to stand by Yoongi and pry Jungkook’s fist open.
“Touch me,” he orders.
And of course, Jungkook does, trying his best to focus on the feel of velvet skin in his palm over everything else that’s going on. It’s too much for him to process at once, his brain bouncing from Tae to Namjoon, who has begun to masturbate over him, then back to Yoongi.
“You’re shit at this,” he huffs. His voice is uneven and his eyes are beginning to droop and Jungkook knows that what that probably means is that he’s nearly done. An admittedly large part of him, however, doesn’t want it to end. “Wanna swallow my cum, you fucking slut?”
He nods weakly, neglected cock hardening further against his stomach.
“Too bad. Don’t deserve it, choking like a fucking ameture,” he pulls out, fisting himself for what feels like an eternity before he’s finishing over his face with a grunt of relief. A rope of it flies up his nose, making him flinch, but Jimin jumps to hold him in place with both hands to make him take it.
Once he’s done and it’s dripping into his hair Yoongi lets go of his softening cock and stares down at him. He licks his lips, then frowns a little as if somethings missing before spitting onto Jungkook’s face and slapping him for a third time. It’s softer, as if he’s drained himself of the sadistic energy he’d been far too full of moments prior.
Then, he proceeds to rub it all over Jungkook’s face, stuffing some of it past his admittedly eager lips before dragging it up into his scalp. Once he’s satisfied, he backs away and says, “Look at your audience, baby. Show them how bad I fucked you up.”
Slowly, he turns his eyes back to the crowd. Some of them have filtered out to other rooms, where the music is still blasting and people are going about their nights. Which Jungkook can’t comprehend. Honestly, he can’t comprehend much of anything outside of himself right now. The fact that most of the people in this gargantuan house will leave tonight with no idea of what’s happened to him, of how life shatteringly good this all feels, is astounding.
Jungkook’s never felt like this, but right now, with a million greedy eyes on him, a cock deep inside his ass and another three in his face, doesn’t think he ever wants to feel any other way.
He feels used. Degraded to a lowly fucktoy and he absolutely, positively loves it. They’re treating him like he’s some sort of blowup doll, obsolete outside of getting them off and putting on a show. And he knows in that moment that he’s meant for this, or at least that’s what it feels like. Hell, he kinda wants the whole frat to run a train on him, tie him down even tighter, stuff a gag in his mouth and use him like the stupid cumdump he is.
“Jin hyung,” he hears Yoongi call, voice now teetering on normal in the aftermath of his orgasm, “Get his face.”
He hadn’t realised he was being filmed before this. He’d actually forgotten of the chapter president’s existence in complete and utter honesty.
He has half a mind to ask if he’s been filming since the very beginning. Doesn’t realise he already has until Jin and Namjoon are chuckling down at him with a pair of, “Of course”s.
He wants to care, but he doesn’t. No, he likes it, complying without another word when Jin says, “Open your greedy mouth, for me, yeah?”
“God, what a slut,” he mutters once he does, letting Jimin unzip his pants and pull them down for him.
He’s bigger than Yoongi, possibly even more so than Taehyung, who is fucking into him irritatingly slow, each thrust pushing jungkook ahead on the table. Only to be pulled back, of course. The cuffs are cutting uncomfortably into his skin, sure to leave nasty purple bruises, ones he can’t wait to see. He wonders, as he eagerly cranes his head to lap at Seokjin’s precum slick cock, if they’ll compliment the hickies Yoongi’d left on his neck, or the bites on his thighs and stomach.
Seokjin shoves his face back when he tries to sink deeper, holding him to the table as he spears himself in and out twice in quick succession. “Only thing we can use you for is making you gag, huh?” he sneers when Jungkook’s chest bows, “Good thing it suits you.”
He slots a couple fingers in beside his length, “Think you can take another one? Make yourself useful? If you can take everything we have to give you, I’ll nominate you the frat’s cumdump. How’s that sound, baby?”
Jungkook doesn’t need to mull it over, he just nods, stretching his jaw wider. He feels his lip tear as Namjoon slides in beside Jin, but the metallic blood dribbling back onto his tongue puts him on high alert. All he can hear as they begin grinding their hips in tandem is his own heart hammering in his chest and the rush of blood in his ears.
And then he feels wet, opening his eyes to see Taehyung finishing over his face. He’s confused for a second, letting out a weak, “Ah!” as another cock he realises must be Jimin’s replaces it.
It’s no longer in his hand, after all, and he can feel ten short fingers gripping his inner thighs. His nails may be breaking skin, but Jungkook just squirms in an attempt to urge him to further tighten his grip.
“I think the slut might want to cum,” Jimin says to the others, prompting Seokjin to twist around with the camera and direct it towards his cock.
“Think he can even get anything out of this tiny little thing?” he mocks, reaching forward to flick it. Jungkook tries to jerk out of his touch, but they just laugh down at him, cruel and sadistic.
He's never felt so good, loves the attention and though he knows he should probably ask for some sort of permission to cum, he isn’t sure he can hold on.
Which Jimin must be able to tell by the way he’s clenching around him because he squeezes his cock, tight enough to hurt, “Tsk tsk, what do you think you’re doing now, baby? Tryna get off without permission?”
He doesn’t answer, couldn't even if he wanted to, but Jimin seems to know what he’s thinking regardless.
“Two things. First, if we’re fucking you, anything and everything you want to do’s gotta go through us. Secondly, you’re not done until we are. If you cum before us, we keep going until you piss all over yourself like an untrained dog. And if you’re dim enough to do something like that, you’re punished. Got it?”
He can’t stop himself. Jimin’s voice is so cruel and the ache in his jaw has grown too sharp to ignore, and that in combination with the hand Namjoon’s wrapped around his neck prove too much for him to handle.
He releases across his stomach the second Jimin's grip loosens, his moan turning into a scream when he picks up his pace, “Told… you… not to… cum… you stupid… fucking… whore .”
Namjoon grits his teeth down at him and tightens his grip until his voice dies in his throat and another spurt forces his way out of him.
Spots begin to appear before his eyes, which droop as he’s pounded into overstimulation and before he knows it, Jimin’s cock is being pulled out from inside him and he’s cumming over his face. It stings as it hits his split lip, but he seems to enjoy his strained expression, spitting down at him as Yoongi did and watching the glob of saliva drip down his skin.
“Gonna have to put in a little effort next time, we don’t like our whores lazy and entitled, do we?”
Namjoon and Jin shake their heads down at him, the younger of the two taking the liberty to plug his nose once more. He’s limp by this point, all used and fucked up, unable to struggle if he tried. He gazes blanky up at them, listening to Jin when he orders him to look into the camera. Each muscle in his body is lax, and his brain’s switched itself off for the night.
Which is why he makes no effort to pull away from Namjoon’s grasp, gives him control until he finally gives and allows him to breathe once more. He likes the dizziness, especially in his current state of mind, the soreness and nausea he knows will only be worse come morning.
But he’ll feel used. Pleasantly so and if anything, he’ll carry the bruises on his skin and cramp in his jaw like trophies.
He hears some scuffling in the background before Hoseok comes into vision, led by Jimin, “You wanna give him one more load than he signed up for? Help us teach him a lesson for cumming before he asked?”
Hoseok looks nervous, stuttering something he can’t make out.
He finds his mouth suddenly freed, both men pulling out just in time to add to the now thick layer of semen coating his skin. It’s dripping into his mouth, stinging his eyes, but he wants more, waiting obediently for them to spit on his face and rub it around the way he assumed they would before turning to Hoseok.
“Want it,” he tries to say, but he’s lost his voice and all it comes out as is a noiseless croak.
“Fuck,” he bites his lip in consideration, “Are you sure?”
He doesn’t answer, too tired to make the effort. Instead, he shuts his eyes and sticks his tongue out in invitation.
“Look at you,” he hears Jin say, “Never met anyone so fuckin’ easy. Won the jackpot as far as cumsluts go, haven’t we?”
He nods around Hoseok, who seems far too intimidated to push more than an inch in, instead opting to jerk himself off into his mouth.
“Make sure you cum on his face,” Yoongi’s voice rings out, “Gonna take a picture after. For the front hall.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise, more at the fact that the thought’s prompted a twitch from his spent cock than anything else. He’ll get to see himself, he realises, fucked out, stripped of his innocence and covered in cum. All black and blue.
He shudders at the thought, earning a, “That much of a shameless little whore, huh? Should we invite everyone to join next time? See how far you’ll let us push you?”
He doesn’t know who’s said it, but he lets out a muffled and eager (all things considered) hum, the vibrations leading his classmate to stumble back before blowing his load across Jungkook’s face.
He nearly falls asleep once the cuffs are unlocked and Namjoon yells a, “Shows over, people,” to usher the crowd out.
“I’ll, uh,” Hoseok clears his throat as he zips up his jeans, “See you in stats then…?”
Jungkook doesn’t look up, just nods in the direction of his voice before curling onto his side with a sigh. His wrists and ankles give a few satisfying cracks when he rolls them, as do his knees and hips and he’s mere seconds away from losing consciousness when he feels Tae slapping his cheek with a, “Hey, what’s your twitter handle?”
He mumbles incoherently, swatting him away before bringing his hand back to his chest and rasping, “Cold.”
“Dude, stop,” Seokjin says, “Look at him. Give him some fuckin’ space, Christ. Jungkook?”
He drags his eyes open.
“Wanna pose for your picture, baby? Look so pretty covered in hyung’s cum.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, stretching out and dragging himself into a sitting position. He can feel the tacky and now cold fluid trailing down his neck at an alarming rate, but he just lets it happen. His body feels like lead. Empty and spent and all he can think of in this moment is rest.
Still, he knows a sick part of him is going to watch this video over and over again, dwell on the aftermath especially, so he accepts the cardboard sign, looking down briefly at it to read, Took Six Loads Like the Cumdump I Am # AlphaSig2018 .
Not terribly original, but it gets the point across. So he does his best to smile at the camera, letting them take one with, then without flash before someone says, “Group shot!” and they all crowd around him like they're a part of some twisted family.
Jungkook leans into Yoongi when he places a hand on his shoulder. He's warm, touch no longer bruising and though he expects the elder to push him off the way he most certainly would have an hour ago (half an hour? Ten minutes? How long had this entire thing lasted? How long had it been since?), he instead sighs and brings his head to his chest.
“You feeling alright?”
Jungkook shrugs, turning his eyes up to him, “Dumb, but can-”
“Can’t hear you kiddo,” he leans in.
“You're kinda cute, you know that?” he grins down at him and though Jungkook’s mind doesn’t quite trust the complete 180, he figures he’ll take what he can get. “‘Course you can. You’re one of us now, yeah?”
He nods, “We all did this. Or something like it, at least. You handled it better than me, that’s for sure.”
Jungkook blushes, a strange thing to do after what he’s just been through.
“I’ll have Jin take you to my room after he gets you cleaned up, cool?”
Jungkook nods, gaze flickering towards him. He’s zipping the camera into it’s black leather case and when he hears his name, he looks up, “Ready to go?”
“Listen,” they’re in the shower, Seokjin holding him as Namjoon does his best to scrub his hair clean.
“How drunk are you?”
They appear to sigh in relief, “Would you have said something if you didn’t like it?”
He blinks at Namjoon. The idea of stopping had never crossed his mind, “Probably, yeah.”
“You know you can, right?” Jin says, “Even, like. If you had just said no, we would have stopped.”
“Uh… yeah?” Jin sounds a little concerned, “You’re in our frat, Jungkook. You’re one of us, like Yoongi said. You just. I mean, we usually publish the videos to this… thing. But we’re gonna let you approve it tomorrow or whenever you want.”
“You sure you’re alright?” Namjoon frowns. “I mean that’s rich coming from me, but-”
“Does it matter now?” he sighs, slumping further into Jin.
“Exactly,” he yawns, “I’m just fucked out, guys. I wanna go to sleep.”
Yoongi curls up behind him once he himself is cleaned up, “You clean up well.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook says. Then, “What now?”
“Now?” Yoongi sighs, intertwining their legs, “Now you’re an official part of Alpha Sigma Phi.”
“Still get to be the cumdump?”
“Yeah,” he laughs, “Sure, whatever your pretty heart desires.”