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Jungkook offered the crowd a fake smile, waving as the screams grew even louder, before gracefully taking a seat, leaning back in plush couch that he had been given.

He had to admit, award shows fucking sucked- MAMA especially.

The food was expensive to the point of being disgusting. The champagne was some bitter brand that people were proud to have in their glass, but hated to have in their mouths. The speeches were long and full of stuttering rambles unfit of the people who claimed to be actors. Cameras were pointed at him for five hours, meaning he had to smile for five hours, remaining stock still while his cheeks started to ache from the over-exertion.

Award shows were worth it, if you were winning, but they were still hell on Earth.

But, today, leaning back in his seat as the audience roared, Jungkook’s smile was just a little more genuine than usual.

Jimin was going to be performing. His pretty, little darling was going to be on stage, reminding the industry exactly why MAMA had paid him a billion won to perform tonight.

And that managed to make the shitty champagne taste sweet enough to swallow.


Jimin smiled, feeling almost giddy, a bright smile on his face as the make-up noona finished the final touches on his eye shadow.

“There you, Jiminie, perfect,” she smiled, giving him a smile, before turning him around and letting him see himself in the mirror.

The singer was nervous, but a good kind of nervous, a happy kind.

Jimin’s makeup was almost standard at this point, sultry eyeshadow, shimmery lipstick, colored lenses. His pink hair curled onto his forehead, almost messy enough to look like he had just rolled out of bed after being fucked into the mattress. Everything was carefully tailored, erotic without being trashy, innocent without being niave.

The singer was a walking wet dream with innocent doe-eyes and dick-sucking lips.

Smiling at his reflect, Jimin’s stomach fluttered at how good he looked. The way his cheekbones popped, the sharp line of his jaw, the plushness of his lips, Jungkook was going to see all of it.

Jungkook was going to be in the audience, watching as Jimin performed.

He couldn’t wait to learn what it would feel like, having the burning stare of his boyfriend warming his skin, as he performed on stage. He was going to impress Jungkook, show him exactly why Jimin belonged to him.

Speaking of Jungkook, though, Jimin turned towards the make-up noona, smiling sheepishly as anticipation made his hands twitch.

“Do you think I could add a choker?” Jimin asked.

She nodded, accommodating, “It’s a low neckline, I don’t see why not. Should I ask the clothing department, if they have anything?”

Jimin shook his head, mischievous smile on his face, “No, no, I brought my own.”


“And, up next, Korea’s dream boy, the singer who’s just come back from his solo stadium tour, the voice behind the gorgeous song Serendipity, Jimin!

Jungkook smirked, leaning back, ready to watch Jimin light the stage on fire.

The lights dimmed, the stadium going almost entirely dark except for the camera flashes and the audience’s lightsticks. And then, like a vision, Jimin walked towards the center of the stage; his slim figure just barely visible against the pitch black stage.

The soft starting notes of Serendipity thrummed, and suddenly the stage was bright. The contrast was blinding, and Jungkook had no doubt that was the intention. It physically hurt to look at Jimin.

As his eyes struggled to adjust, spots traveling across his vision, Jimin’s soft voice dripped into his ears, softly coaxing him to look back up. It was a demure request, the soft words gently leading Jungkook’s eyes back towards Jimin. Like a bashful siren’s song, Jimin asked him to ignore the pain.

But, while Jimin’s voice was coy.

Jimin, himself, was certainly not.

The singer was wearing a loose, sheer white blouse that fell lazily off one shoulder, with a neckline so low that Jungkook could easily see both of Jimin’s collarbones. But while his top was loose, it was tucked into tight black leather pants that outlined every contour of his muscular thighs.

His makeup was dark, sultry, and seemed just the slightest bit smudged, as if to make Jimin purposefully seem rumpled. His hair was curled, messy, like hands had been running through it.

Everything about Jimin’s look said, I was fucked minutes before I came on stage. I was fucked, hard, and I loved it. Someone pinned me down and took me and I just barely managed to stumble to the stage in time.

But, what had Jungkook’s heart truly stuttering, was the collar around Jimin’s neck, a pretty choker made of dozens of diamonds bezzled in silver, and the little tag hanging underneath it, that Jungkook didn’t even have to check, to know that it said “property of J”.

It was the collar Jungkook fucked Jimin in. It was the collar that reminded the both of them how much Jimin loved kneeling at Jungkook’s feet, and how much Jungkook liked keeping him there. It was Jungkook’s fucking collar, and Jimin was wearing it on stage, in front of everyone .

Jimin had property of Jungkook wrapped around his neck, as he performed in front of thousands of people.

Jungkook couldn’t fucking breathe .

And it was looking like that, like a walking wet dream, like a siren, Jimin sang, “The world is so different from yesterday.” The innocent lyrics falling so sinfully when he said them looking like that.

And, somehow, Jimin managed to meet Jungkook’s eyes in the middle of the crowd, smirking at Jungkook as he delicately tugging at his collar, like it was Jungkook’s hand tightly wrapped around his throat, instead of a collar.

Jungkook suppressed a smile.

The words sounded wry, full of innuendo, as Jimin slowly danced to the beat, hips swiveling gracefully, lazily, hands slowly tracing down his body. There were over thirty background dancers, but Jungkook’s eyes never left Jimin, watching as the singer smiled, winking, before rolling his hips and smoothly stepping into the next movement.

Every time Jimin met Jungkook’s eyes, they seemed to be playful, knowing that he was affecting Jungkook, certain of the reason Jungkook’s legs were parted.

It was obvious. Jimin was doing this for Jungkook’s attention. There was been no reason to perform this song looking like that, except to rile Jungkook up. Jimin wanted to get fucked tonight, and this was his way of asking for it.

The soft song, about the joy of being in love, was twisted to something sensual, making it seem like Jimin was speaking to a lover, stars in his eyes, the blush from his most recent orgasm barely faded, as he begged for another.

The need was palpable in his voice. Jungkook’s hands twitched, trying to reach out and sooth the man who seemed like he was drowning in want. But, no, all he could do was sit down and enjoy the show.

As the song neared to a climax, Jimin was tugged around, provocatively falling into the arms of dancers, going limp in their arms, before being tugged towards someone else, hands pulled and tugged at Jimin’s clothes, his blouse finally falling off the other shoulder.

Jimin sang in their arms, voice breathy with something Jungkook wasn’t sure he was faking. Jimin was an exhibitionist, after all, and the way he was practically eye-fucking Jungkook, meant that Jimin considered this enough to exhibit.

The last few lines, Jimin pulled away from the crowd of dancers, swinging his hips in an almost drunken stumble, as he walked towards the very edge of the stage, right in front of Jungkook, as if wanting to see the effect of his performance on Jungkook up close.

Indulgently, Jungkook spread his legs as far as he could without being obvious, giving Jimin a clear view of the bulge in his pants, silently assuring Jimin that Jungkook was very much affected by his performance.

And that was all Jungkook could do, before Jimin turned around, belting out the last few notes of the song, voice fading off into silence as the audience screamed. The booming roar of applause served as a background track as Jimin bounced up, seductiveness draining away as he blushed and empathetically thanked the crowd, bouncing on his heels.

Blowing kisses and waving, Jimin briefly met Jungkook’s eyes, able to get a glimpse of Jungkook’s proud smile one last time, before he walked off stage, uncaring as he undoubtedly left everyone in the audience aroused and frustrated.

“And that was Park Jimin with Serendipity! Let’s have one more round of applause for that performance,” the announcer shouted.

Jungkook clapped, subdued but clearly supportive, unwilling to give the press something to comment on, but unable to stop the bright, proud smile on his face. Arousal made his head fuzzy, and it was hard to ignore the hard cock in his pants.

That was his Jimin. Jungkook was the one that was going to take Jimin home, as Jimin looked at Jungkook with pretty little stars in his eyes. The knowledge made Jungkook feel heady with possessive satisfaction.

This had been the result of Jimin’s months of hard work, and god, Jungkook was going to spend the rest of the night, once they got home, enthusiastically congratulating Jimin for a job well done.

Jimin had entirely outdid himself, and he deserved a reward.


Jungkook moved to get out his phone, barely managing to send a brief I’m so proud of you text, before a cameraman sat down in front of him, large equipment directed in Jungkook’s direction.

The actor raised a questioning eyebrow, unamused at the interruption of the barrage of complimentary texts Jungkook was about to send Jimin.

“Best actor award is up next,” the camera man whispered, “You won.”

Jungkook nodded, unsurprised at the news, but upset at the timing.

Raising a finger, silently asking for a moment, Jungkook breathed, taking a moment to consider whether or not he’d be able to will away his erection. The way his dick throbbed painfully at the thought, it was clear that his hard-on wasn’t going anywhere; Jungkook hissed, carefully untucking his shirt from his slacks.

His eyes were no doubt his glazed with arousal, but there wasn’t much Jungkook could do about that.

Taking a moment to rearrange himself and come to terms with the fact that he’d be accepting his actor of the year award with an erection Jimin caused less than a minute ago, Jungkook sighed, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

The camera man was looking at the floor, politely finding the carpet extremely interesting.

“I’m ready,” Jungkook stated, alerting the camera man, “Thank you for giving me a moment.”

As the camera was aimed at Jungkook’s face, the actor did his best to seem not aroused within an inch of his life.


It was routine now. Walk up to the stage. Thank everyone involved, especially the insignificant ones, and then say it wasn’t possible if not for his fans, even though it definitely would have been, and then a brilliant, happy smile, and confidently walk off stage, despite how tight the front of his pants felt.

The moment Jungkook was out of sight of the cameras, he pulled out his phone. It had buzzed while Jungkook had been giving his speech, and it took all of the actor’s strength not to pull it out and reply to Jimin right then and there.

JK (7:08 PM): I’m so proud of you

JM (7:12): That’s it?

JM (7:12): I bedroom-eyed the HELL out of MAMA, and that’s all I get?

JM (7:13) You practically came in your pants

JM (7:14) I’m salty

JM (7:14) So salty

JM (7:15) You know I was planning on keeping the collar on the rest of the night, but if my dom doesn’t even care enough to mention it, might as well just toss it in the garbage.

JM (7:15) Not like you can do anything without it anyways.

Jungkook smiled, exasperated, a little irritated, but mostly endeared. Jimin just wanted praise, wanted Jungkook’s attention, felt insecure without it. That was all this is. Jimin was a cute little baby, used to being pampered and spoiled. That was no one’s fault but Jungkook’s.

If Jimin was in front of him, Jungkook would have fisted the singer’s hair, tilted Jimin’s head back and sucked a hickey into Jimin’s neck, a painful reminder that Jimin always had his Master’s attention.

But, for now, Jungkook settled for verbally chastising his disobedient little sub, not too harshly, the poor thing deserved praise tonight more than anything else, but enough to settle him down.

JK (7:20): Jiminie. I think that was rather uncalled for. You like your collar, don’t you?

“Jungkook-nim!” the stage manager called, grabbing his elbow and pulling him down the hallway, “Sorry, but I have to ask that you take your winning press conference soon than later. We’re running late and we really only have ten minutes to offer you before the next winner. I’m so sorry.”

The stage manager seemed manic, it was clear that they were desperately behind schedule.

Delays meant more work for back staff, and once the backstaff was overwhelmed, the entire show seemed to stutter, creeping by at a snail’s pace. Jungkook had to present an award near the end of the show, and he wasn’t willing to be here past ten.

“That’s fine,” Jungkook said politely, offering her a fake smile, tucking his phone into his pocket.

Jimin could wait ten minutes, and then Jungkook would shower his hardworking darling in kisses.


By the time Jungkook was done, his patience was thin. Answering the same stupid questions over and over, as if the reporters expected different answer if they asked for the sixth time.

The actor sighed, leaning against a wall, allowing himself a few moments, before he was forced to go back out, sitting in that plush couch, eyes glazed, and hands mechanically clapping.

His phone had buzzed sporadically during the press conference, and it took all of Jungkook’s control not to check it.

JK (7:25): Jiminie. I think that was rather uncalled for. You like your collar, don’t you?

JM (7:25): I like attention a lot better

JM (7:31) You’re still ignoring me?

JM (7:39) Who the fuck is on stage right now that is distracting you so much?

JM (7:40) Fine. Never mind.

JM (7:41) You’re not the only one who can give me attention

Jungkook sighed, fingers twitching with irritation.

Jimin, when he was feeling insecure, had a lovely way of pushing Jungkook, pressing all of his buttons, until he was so furious that all he could see was red and Jimin’s frustratingly adorable pout.

And Jungkook, who very much wanted to reward Jimin for his lovely performance, hoped to god that Jimin hadn’t misbehaved. It was hard to enjoy an orgasm if your ass was still throbbing from your spanks.

It was irritating to see Jimin, the submissive that Jungkook had invested so much time into training, completely disregard all of it. Jimin was his, and he ought to act like it.

JK (7:50): You were on stage, baby boy, you had all the attention you could ever want, and yet, you were still wearing your collar.

JM (7:50): So what?

JK (7:51): Because their attention doesn’t matter, does it? The only attention you could ever want is mine. So, how about you apologize for being a brat, and then I’ll congratulate you on your performance.

JM (7:52): Sorry, Jungkook.

JK (7:53): You didn’t insult Jungkook, baby.

JM (7:54): … Sorry, Master.

JK (7:55): Thank you, Jiminie. Apology accepted. Now, you did an amazing job. You were gorgeous. You were perfect. Everything was on beat, your hips were absolutely sinful. Your voice was captivating, and so captivating. You were a vision, and easily the best performance I’ve seen at MAMA. You earned every bit of that billion won

JK (7:55): You did such a good job that I had to walk up to accept my best actor award with a raging hard on.

JK (7:55): Then spend the next thirty minutes talking to reporters, with my dick still fucking throbbing like it had been run the fuck over

JK (7:55): And, finally, when I get a moment to congratulate my beautiful baby on his performance, I find him being a petulant brat and even trying to threaten me?

JM (7:56): Oh.

JK (7:56): Yeah, baby, “oh”

JM (7:57): Congratulations?

JK (7:58): Right.

JM (7:59): I’m sorry

JK (7:59): I’m counting the spanks you owe me, so if there’s anything I should know about, now's the time, Darling

JM (8:00): Nothing.

JK (8:01): Nothing?

JM (8:01): Nope, just don’t watch Taemin’s performance, or I’ll get jealous.

JK (8:02): Baby, what did you do?

JM (8:03): I’m sorry

Jungkook huffed, feeling so very done.

All he wanted to do was go home and kiss his baby, but no, that was just not in his cards today.

Because his baby boy, apparently, needed a reminder of what the fucking rules were, and just what happened when he broke them.

Taemin was about to go up, and Jungkook walked back to his seat, watching as a pre-recorded, pre-performance interview played on the stadium screens, as the stage was set up.

Jungkook knew Taemin had a throbbing crush on Jimin. He knew it. The entire industry knew it. An old single of his had a line about pink hair, and who the fuck else was known for having pink hair.

The singer never failed to take advantage of an opportunity to flirt with Jimin, to smile and giggle and compliment. Taemin wanted what was Jungkook’s.

It was fine.

Jungkook was very much comfortable in their relationship, and it wasn’t as if Taemin would ever be able to offer Jimin all of the comfort and stability that Jungkook could.

But, Jimin did know exactly how to Jungkook’s buttons.

Taemin was an attractive man, Jungkook had to admit, especially when he was all dressed up, ready to go on stage with perfectly done makeup and a v-neck that was just a little too low.

And right next to him, smiling a little too warmly, standing flush against Taemin’s side, nose practically brushing Taemin’s cheek, was Jimin. Jimin was still in his performance outfit, skin glittering with sweat and cheeks pink from exertion.

“So, Taemin, Hot, it’s being called the Korean sexy anthem, how did you write it?”

Taemin smiled, quickly glancing at Jimin, abruptly realizing just how close Jimin was, and blushing, “Well, um… Jimin, actually, was a big inspiration.”

Jimin smiled, eyes thinning, as he blossomed under the praise, always happy to be complimented.

“Jimin and I have always been close, and well, you could almost go as far as saying that the song was about him,” Taemin said, aggressively blushing, as Jimin leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around Taemin’s waist.

It was very clear what they were implying. It was hard to miss how Jimin giggled flirtatiously as Taemin looked at the singer with sparkling eyes.

Jungkook, however, who has listened to the song a countless number of times, burned at the implication that the song that had been spamming the radio was about Jimin. The song that explicitly described sex was Taemin fantasizing about Jimin.

The actor felt furious.

“He’s so sweet,” Jimin practically cooed, “Really, I love a man that’s liberal with compliments. There’s nothing better than to be appreciated.”

Taemin’s lips curved into something far too insinuating for Jungkook’s comfort, “Well, you deserve to be appreciated, baby.”

Jungkook’s hands curled into tense fists. Baby. Jungkook was the only one that could call Jimin baby. Jimin was his baby.

The little words carried so much weight, scenes of Jimin begging, flushed and panting, as he pleaded for relief, Jimin lying supple and vulnerable underneath Jungkook, Jimin curling up under blankets, childish and relieved after his stress had dissipated.

Jungkook called Jimin baby when he wanted Jimin kneeling with his mouth open.

But that was still fine, Jungkook could still deal with that. That wasn’t Jimin being disobedient, it was Taemin trying to touch things that weren’t his.

But then, Jimin giggled, simpering closer to Taemin, his plush pink lips less than an inch away from Taemin’s skin. He looked so small next to Taemin, fitting into the man’s side like an adorable little thing. Like Taemin’s adorable little thing.

“Hyungie’s too sweet,” Jimin said, pressing a quick peck to Taemin’s cheek.

It was a chaste, little thing, insignificant in any other context, except this one. Jimin was an idol. This was going to be everywhere. Jungkook could already see the articles and the interviews and the conspiracy theories.

God fucking dammit.

Jungkook couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kill Taemin, Jimin, or himself.

His fingers flexed, craving to do something, but he wasn’t quite sure quite sure what. His chest was tight with anger, and he was grateful that Jimin wasn’t nearby, because Jungkook wasn’t quite sure what he’d do.

JK (8:10): You are in so much fucking trouble.

JK (8:10): Enjoy the afterparty, darling, because you sure as hell aren’t going to enjoy what comes after

JM (8:11): I’m sorry

JK (8:11): I’m going to make you sorry, Darling.


Jimin cautiously walked through the front door, anxiety fluttering in his chest. He fucked up. He knew that he fucked up.

Genuinely, he had never done anything this stupid.

He knew he was being a brat. He knew that Jungkook wouldn’t like what he was doing. He knew that he was going to get in trouble.

He didn’t know what Jungkook had planned, but he was scared and extremely turned on. His pants felt tight, and he hoped that Jungkook didn’t notice how flushed his cheeks were. He had goosebumps from the anxiety, the anticipation making his stomach churn.

“I’m home,” Jimin announced weakly, walking down the hall to the living room.

The lights were dim, lighting the room in a muted orange. Everything looked in place, nothing out of order. Jungkook sat down on the couch, watching Jimin with an unimpressed expression.

“Jungkook?” Jimin called, softly.

There was another stretch of silence, before Jungkook looked up, dark eyes looking Jimin over, tracing down his skin. “I’m very unhappy with you. You know that?”

“Jungkookie, I-”

“It’s a yes or no question, baby,” Jungkook interrupted sternly.

“Yes,” Jimin admitted, fingers twisting in his shirt. Anxiety pooled in his stomach, as the potential punishments flitted through his head.

“Good,” Jungkook huffed, standing up and walking towards a trembling Jimin.

Jungkook was an intimidating figure. He was still in his suit from MAMA, suit jacket taken off; the slacks perfectly outlining his strong legs and the way his shirt sleeves were rolled up, accented his forearms. Jungkook was bigger than Jimin in every possible way, and he had this way of looming over him, making the few inches of height difference feel like several.

The dominant had a commanding way about him, a natural authoritarian.

He never failed to make Jimin feel small.

“You know why you’re in trouble, don’t you?” Jungkook asked, voice low and vaguely amused, like he enjoyed seeing Jimin so anxious.

Jimin nodded.

“When I ask you a question, pet, you answer,” Jungkook instructed, hand reaching out to trace along Jimin’s collar. Jungkook slipped a finger underneath the choker, making the metal chain tighter against his throat, edging barely on the edge of discomfort.

“Yes, Master. Sorry, Master,” Jimin answered, the words flowing easily, as he looked Jungkook in the eyes, as was proper.

“Well, at least you remember something from your training.”

The back-handed compliment warmed Jimin’s stomach. Jimin loved compliments, and even ones that were practically insults were enough to have him feeling blushy.

“Now, why are you being punished?”

Jimin swallowed, voice small, “I was a brat.”


“I threatened to throw out my collar.”


“I flirted with Taemin, kissed him,” Jimin said, words weakening with shame.

Jungkook sighed, hand shifting to hold Jimin’s neck tighter, a firm, heavy weight around Jimin’s throat, an unignorable reminder of who was in charge.

“And why,” he asked, voice cold, “Did my baby feel the need to whore himself out on national television?”

“Wanted attention, ’m not a whore,” Jimin mumbled, embarrassment burning his cheeks.

Jungkook laughed sharply, grip momentarily tightening on Jimin’s neck, stealing Jimin’s breath, “Only a little slut would act the way you did. So desperate for attention that you couldn’t wait thirty minutes for Master to congratulate you?”

“I- I can wait,” Jimin said, feeling the collar get even tighter around his throat, a dizzying sense of helplessness overwhelming him.

“That’s clearly a fucking lie, baby, don’t argue with master,” Jungkook chided darkly, leaning closer to Jimin. The smaller man shivered as Jungkook’s breath fanned over his skin, making him shiver. “You’re getting a new punishment today. Since I don’t feel like wasting my time for giving you two different punishments for being a brat and acting like a little slut.”

“N-no, no spanks,” Jimin whined, pleading eyes looking up at Jungkook.

The man thumbed at Jimin’s bottom lip, a taunting smile on his lips, like he found something about Jimin funny. “No spanks,” Jungkook repeated wryly, “Except the ones you earn from now on for not being a proper sub, got that baby boy?”

Jimin blinked, and then suddenly he realized, too tall, he was too tall, mechanically sinking to the floor in a kneel at Jungkook’s feet. A sense of ease enveloped Jimin as he stared at Jungkook’s shoes; this was where he belonged. This was safe, with Jungkook towering over him.

The only thing Jimin had to worry about was kneeling prettily at Jungkook’s feet, back arched and hands behind his back, presenting perfectly in Master’s desired pose.

Jungkook looked down at Jimin with a dim smile on his face, proud of Jimin for listening, but clearly still too angry for Jimin to relax.

“Good boy.”

Jimin shivered at the compliment.

“Now,” Jungkook turned around and walked away, leaving Jimin alone and vulnerable on the middle of the living room floor, “Crawl to Master.”

Jimin’s cheeks burned with humiliation, but he still Jimin smoothly rolled up to his hands and knees, making certain to sway his ass as he crawled. Jungkook was already mad; Jimin was going to do his best to please him, even if his face burned with a heavy blush.

He knelt between Master’s legs, fitting perfectly like he belonged there. A quick glance up showed that Jungkook was staring intently at Jimin, a cocky expression on his face, and Jimin gently nuzzled Jungkook’s thigh, hoping it would encourage Jungkook to let Jimin suck his cock.

Immediately, Jungkook fisted Jimin’s hair and jerked Jimin away from his slacks with a sharp click of his tongue, “Did I give you permission to touch me, baby?”

“No, master, sorry master” Jimin said, tears flooding his eyes. His mouth just felt so empty.

“It isn’t hard to follow directions, Jimin. Try not to focus on cock for two seconds, and you might just avoid another punishment.”

Jimin nodded, eyes watering as he stared down at the carpet, trying to ignore the fact that Jungkook’s cock was perfectly in reach.

“You were so quick to say I was ignoring you,” Jungkook hummed, a heavy hand stroking Jimin’s cheek, “So, I’m going to show you how it feels to be ignored.”

Jimin’s breath hitched, anxiety twitching under his skin.

Jungkook continued, like he didn’t hear Jimin, “I’m going to call my manager, and ask them what happened during the after party. And you’re going to have my cock in your mouth, while I do it. Understand?”

Jimin swallowed, not understanding what part of this was supposed to be punishment. Jimin was always happy to wrap his lips around Jungkook’s cock, “Yes, Master.”

“You’re going to warm it. You aren’t allowed to suck, you aren’t allowed to try to make me cum. You can’t use your hands. You aren’t allowed to touch yourself. And, I expect you to be quiet, like a good little toy. Understand?” Jungkook asked, silently daring Jimin to argue.

Jimin nodded, apprehensive this time, significantly less enthusiastic; Jungkook had barred him from doing all the fun stuff, “Yes, Master.”

“Good boy,” Jungkook praised, before nodding down at his pants, “Now, how about you show Master how much you want his cock in your mouth?”

Jimin silently moved forward, excited at the chance to please Jungkook and suck Jungkook’s cock. This was something he knew he could do well. With no preamble, Jimin pressed his face against the front of Jungkook’s pants, breathing in, hoping to smell musk, but only finding the clean smell of laundry.

As Jimin nuzzled against the zipper of Jungkook’s pants, he realized that Jungkook was completely soft. The humiliating realization that Jungkook had been completely unaffected by Jimin so far made his stomach flutter.

Jimin could get Jungkook’s cock hard. If only Jungkook would let him do it. Jimin whined pathetically, laying his cheek over Jungkook’s soft, fabric-covered cock. It was so close, and Jimin’s mouth felt so empty. He wanted to suck Master’s cock, needed it.

Jungkook’s fingers tapped against Jimin’s cheek, “Don’t be such a slut, Jimin. If you want my cock, you can prove it to me, silently .”

Jimin choked down a whimper, looking up at Jungkook pleadingly, willing to beg for cock, but Jungkook wasn’t even looking at Jimin; he was busy scrolling through his phone.

If Jimin was going to get Jungkook’s cock, it wasn’t going to be through begging. So, Jimin turned back down to the crotch of Jungkook’s slacks, mouthing over the bulge. He licked over the fabric with broad, wet strokes, pressing hard enough that he was sure that Jungkook could feel the warmth through the layers separating them.

As they laid submissively in his lap, Jimin’s hands trembled with the urge to reach out and just unzip Master’s pants, whether or not he had permission.

There was a soft ring; the distinct sound of a call trying to connect. Jungkook was actually calling his manager. Jimin was begging for Jungkook’s cock, and he was busy calling someone.

Jimin wanted to cry; he just wanted cock. He wasn’t asking for much.

The call clicked, and Jimin could just barely hear the mumble of someone answering the phone.

Drool dripped from Jimin’s lips leaving a large wet spot on the front of Jungkook’s pants, but even still, Jungkook didn’t even touch him. Said nothing to acknowledge Jimin’s efforts.

“Hello, Seokjin-hyung,” Jungkook greeted.

Jimin looked up at him, biting down on his lip, holding back tears, desperate and helpless, and lost at what more he could do. He needed it. He just, he needed it. His own cock was hard in his pants from how long Jimin had spent, nosing at Jungkook’s pants.

Jungkook was inspecting his nails.

Jimin sniffed, and though Jungkook still didn’t look at Jimin; he did snap his fingers, a wordless sign of permission, before huffing and leaning back languidly into the couch, laughing at something Seokjin said over the phone.

Jimin’s hand rushed up, before he froze. Master said he couldn’t use his hands. Jimin shivered at the thought of disobeying Jungkook for another time that night, and the way Jungkook laughed under his breath, he had seen it.

Lowering them back into his lap, Jimin carefully reached forward, unclipping the top of his pants, before unzipping Jungkook’s pants with his teeth.

Once he did, Jungkook seemed to take mercy on him, saying a quick, “Give me a minute, hyung, this suit is so fucking uncomfortable.”

And then, Master slid his pants and briefs down, the fabric pooling at the floor, before Jungkook sat back, going back to his conversation with Seokjin with a quick apology.

Jimin wasted no time, leaning forward, giving a few quick kittenish licks to the head, before sinking his mouth down Jungkook’s length until he gagged and his nose was brushing against Jungkook’s pelvis.

Jimin felt satisfied; Master’s cock was a heavy reassuring weight on his tongue. He sucked lightly, humming, before leaning down, resting his head on Jungkook’s thigh.

Master didn’t even twitch, as Jimin deep throated Jungkook’s hardening cock.

“Yes, Seokjin, I know,” Jungkook answered, running a hand through his hair.

Slowly as the conversation went on, and Jungkook’s hard cock started to make his jaw ache, and drool was dripping down his chin, Jimin started feeling antsy.

He wanted to make Jungkook react, to moan. He wanted Jungkook to clutch his hair and fuck his face. Jimin realized that this had been the point of the punishment, for Jimin to realize how useless all of his efforts were. Jungkook wasn’t going to pay attention to him unless he wanted to.

There wasn’t anything Jimin could do. Jungkook was the one with all the power, and this was all a way for Jimin to understand that.

Jimin might have had Jungkook’s cock in his mouth, but Jungkook had Jimin in the palm of his hand.

He glanced up at his Master, feeling just so very small, as tears fell from his cheeks.

Jungkook was smiling, bantering over the phone with Seokjin, entirely invested in his conversation. As if he wasn’t even aroused, as if he didn’t care either way whether Jimin was sucking his cock at all. Jimin’s heartrate kicked up at the sight.

His skin prickled at the thought of being ignored, of being so inconsequential that he could just kneel here, like an object Jungkook had no use for.

Jimin sucked harder, pulling off Jungkook’s cock by a few inches before sliding back on, needing the reassurance that Jungkook was still there, still hard, and desired Jimin on some level.

Surprisingly, Jungkook didn’t chide Jimin for it, letting Jimin nuzzle against his skin, gaining some comfort as he gently sucked on Jungkook’s cock.

“Yeah, alright Seokjin, great. Thank you, bye.” Jungkook ended the call.

There was another stretch of silence, before Jungkook looked down, dark eyes looking Jimin over, tracing down his skin. “That’s what it feels like to be ignored. Have I ever made you feel like that, baby?”

Jimin warily pulled off Jungkook’s cock with a wet pop, swallowing the drool that had pooled in his mouth before whispering a broken, “No, Master.”

Caringly, Jungkook leaned forward, stroking Jimin’s cheek with a smile, “What did you learn baby?”

“Master might be busy, but he’s not ignoring me.”

With a smile, Jungkook explained, “Master will never ignore you, baby. I promise. My baby loves attention, I’m not going to deny you that. I love you, baby.”

Jimin’s hands twitched on his lap, wanting desperately to reach out and hug him. “I love you, too.”

Jungkook relaxed, shoulders loosening as Jimin’s punishment ended. Jungkook’s eyes were still dark, but there was a sparkle in them now. Jungkook wasn’t mad. He was never mad after a punishment.

Jimin was a good boy now.

He was Master’s good boy.

And good boys got rewards.

“Good, now,” Master crooned, face lighting up with pride, hands sweetly running through Jimin’s hair, “You did so well for me, baby, kept my cock nice and warm for me. I’m so proud of my baby. You’re such a good boy.”

Jimin smiled, warmth fluttering in his stomach, feeling cared for. All his insecurities dissolving away as Jungkook’s eyes rested on Jimin, offering Jimin all of his attention, affection glittering in his eyes.

“Come here, baby,” Jungkook ordered gently. Jungkook kicked off his shoes, leaving himself only in his long white button-down shirt, before carefully picking Jimin up bridal style, strong arms holding Jimin up with ease.

It was a nice, comforting feeling to be more dressed than Jungkook. Like, Jimin wasn’t entirely vulnerable, and he had no doubt that was an intentional decision on Jungkook’s part. It was in the little things that Master showed his care best.


Jimin hummed stretching out lazily. His lower body throbbed, aching with a sweet combination of pleasure and pain.

Jungkook was leaning over him, carefully cleaning Jimin’s skin with a wet towel. He was finishing up with Jimin’s back, and then he’d be done, tucking both himself and Jimin in bed, cuddling Jimin to his chest, and humming softly to encourage Jimin to drift off to sleep.

Which was really nice, but Jimin wasn’t quite satisfied with the attention he’d received from Jungkook yet. He hadn’t seen his boyfriend all day, and they weren’t going to see each other tomorrow either because of conflicting schedules.

“My thighs hurt,” Jimin pouted, whining mostly because he could, and because Jungkook was so whipped whenever he was in after-care mode.

Predictably, Jungkook threw the wet rag to the floor, and trailed his fingers down Jimin’s thighs with a gentle pressure, intensifying the ache, “Do you want a massage, Jiminie-hyung?”

Jimin moaned softly, nodding.

“Okay, hyung,” Jungkook said, doting, “Is it just your thighs that hurt?”

“m’ back, too,” Jimin added, drowsily, even though his back didn’t hurt at all.

Jungkook chuckled, like he knew that Jimin was lying, but firmly pressed his thumbs into the small of Jimin’s back regardless.

“I don’t mind you hanging out with Taemin,” Jungkook said, as he carefully loosened Jimin’s muscles, “I really don’t, but I can’t help getting upset, when he get to touch you more in public than I can.”

Jimin hummed, nodding, “I know, I’m sorry, It was really immature of me.”

There was a soft kiss pressed to Jimin’s shoulder, and Jimin turned his head to lazily ask for a kiss, too. Jungkook gently pressed their lips together, though the kiss broke off when Jungkook couldn’t keep a smile away.

“I don’t mind you being immature, hyung. I love it. I love my baby. Just… I’m really done with our companies meddling in things.”

Jimin smiled softly, flipping onto his back and tugging Jungkook on top of him. It always felt so nice being underneath Jungkook, feeling soft and protected and ever so small.

“Just until my album drops, Jungkookie. Just another month.”

Jungkook looked at Jimin, something like a promise in his eyes. “Another month,” he agreed.

Just one more month.