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The Gentlemen

Chapter Text

They’re all waiting there by the time you arrive.

In perfect time, they all glance up with the sliding of the glass door and the oldest of the contestants, Seokjin, shuffles aside on the packed couch to make room for you.

It’s odd still; having cameramen spotted around the house and outdoor area, crouched in corners or tucked behind furniture, but you try to ignore them as best you can, sitting carefully between Seokjin and Taehyung.

Still hesitant with names, you mentally run through a roll call, working out who is who. You’d met each one of the seven Gentlemen only briefly before, an awkward staged introduction that had to be filmed multiple times due to Namjoon getting his directions mixed up, Taehyung breaking into laughter on several occasions, and Jungkook forgetting his lines.

Then, you’d been instructed to go get ‘dressed down’ a bit (aka the boys loosening their ties or removing their blazers, and you swapping some heels for house slippers) and get to know each other properly over dinner.

You feel some of your nervous tension ease away with deep breaths tinged with the meaty smell of the barbecue in the middle table. At least you’d be spending the next two months in relative luxury. “Who’s on duty?” you question to the group, willing your stomach not to growl.

Jungkook, on the couch to your right, clicks a pair of meat tongs with a broad grin. Out of everyone, the youngest contestant was like a ball of energy all afternoon, and it certainly helped in breaking the ice. “How do you like yours, Y/n? Charcoal, well done, or still oinking?”

You wince. “Well done is fine. Can we put some of the onion on too?”

Jungkook acquiesces, spreading the long cuts of raw onion between the strips of sizzling meat. Directly to your right, Taehyung’s cheeks are already full with the bread roll he’s devouring, and some of the older men begin to reach forward, filling bowls with rice, soybean paste stew, and several side dishes that fill the table. Hungry yourself, you coo gratefully as Seokjin pats your knee and begins to fill a bowl for you, handing you a pair of slim metal chopsticks.

Leaning his head in conspiratorially, Seokjin keeps his eyes on the round metal grill, fired by hot coals below. “I guarantee you the kid will get distracted in conversation and let the meat burn. Should I break protocol and steal the tongs off him?”

You grin around a spoonful of silky tofu, hot and subtly nutty from the broth. “It would be inhumane to let good pork like that be poorly cooked. Besides,” you remark in a lower tone, “I might get the better pieces if the barbecuer is right beside me.”

He lets out a warm chuckle, setting down his own bowl of rice, half-eaten. “You have all the power here, I suppose. D’you reckon I should start sucking up to you early?”

“Never any harm in it,” you venture innocently, though your eyes glimmer as you grin at him. “Though if all of you catch on to that approach, I might end up leaving twice as heavy.”

Seokjin stands up swiftly, plucking the silver tongs out of Jungkook’s unsuspecting hand without giving the boy a chance to protest and sits back down, already beginning to turn the slices of meat to give the other sides a chance to cook. “Listen, I may only be here for a week for all I know, and I still intend to leave here twice as heavy. I tried going to the kitchen to check out what they had and the production team told me off. But the amount of shopping bags on the bench and floor was unreal. I can’t wait to get my hands on some quality ingredients.”

He seems happy to keep talking, but you make a confused noise in the back of your throat. “Wait; you’ve been inside?”

“Only briefly,” Seokjin dismisses warmly, slipping the bowl out of your hands to top it up with some still-sizzling pork and sweetly caramelised onion. “I had to pee and one of the PAs led me through like a little kid. Looks like they’re still setting up, which is why we’re out here for the time being.”

You hum in consideration, picking up a piece of meat with your chopsticks and blowing on it. “Are we allowed to talk about those things? The behind-the-camera stuff, I mean. I would’ve thought it would break the fourth wall for viewers.”

Seokjin chuckles, piling more meat into your bowl, then some on his. “People go onto porn sites to jack off,” he replies casually as you pop the morsel of pork into your mouth, “the editors can just cut all this boring shit. We shouldn’t watch what we say for a whole seven weeks just because people are gonna get a bunch of half-hour episodes.”

“That’s true.” You mull it over, giving yourself time to truly savour the amazing taste of the barbecued pork. Just fatty enough to fall apart after being cooked, you barely had to chew, enjoying the way the juices made your tongue water. If this was the first night, you were certainly looking forward to many delicious meals in the future. “God, this is so weird, but at the same time it isn’t?”

Before Seokjin gets the chance to reply, hastily swallowing down the heaped spoonful of rice he’d shoved in his mouth as you were talking, your attention is caught by someone’s torso filling your vision, scooting around to perch on the edge of Seokjin’s lap. The older man gapes as Jung Hoseok grabs not the tongs, but Seokjin’s hand itself, and uses it to maneuver some of the cooked pork directly into his waiting mouth, moaning wantonly at the taste. Your eyes widen at his bubbly brazenness, so far removed from the stern-browed dom persona they’d asked him to use in the introduction. “I know we’re all here to impress Y/n,” he starts, wasting no extra time as he empties the grill, slightly overcooked onion and perfectly tender slices of meat into the five bowls that are suddenly thrust into the air. “But the rest of us are starving here, my good friend. I asked the PA and he said there’s no more meat for tonight.”

Your eyes widen, heavy bowl feeling shameful in your grasp. “I’m so sorry! I’ve got heaps; here, have some.”

Seokjin, from behind Hoseok’s back, lets out a guilty laugh. “That’s on me, I thought there was more meat. But hey - look at us getting all chummy so early in the show! We’re bonding,” he announces decisively, wrapping his arms low around Hoseok’s waist and resting his head placidly on Hoseok’s back.

Finally having dished out the last of what was on the grill, Hoseok tosses the tongs down with a metallic clang, reaching awkwardly behind him to pat Seokjin’s hair. “Once this is over, you better be giving me free therapy then, old man.”

Seokjin’s hands and face leave the younger man like he’s been electrocuted. “Brat.”

“Brat tamer,” Hoseok corrects smoothly with a smirk. “And you should count your blessings; Yoongi-hyung is going to check out the mole on my right ass cheek to make sure it’s not cancerous. At least in therapy you don’t have to see my ass.”

Image slightly distorted by the odd waft of steam, Min Yoongi pinches his brow with a sigh. “I already told you I wasn’t going to do that, Hoseok, you need to go to a doctor and get it actually tested. And we met less than an hour ago, you can’t call me hyung yet.”

Hoseok’s perky, slightly elfin face sinks into a pout for barely a few seconds before springs back into cheeriness. “Okay, Mister Min. I’ll call you hyung tomorrow.” He pauses another moment, sucking at his lower lip. “But how am I meant to get tested if I can’t leave the villa?”

Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat, voice a dry drawl. “Y/n can just vote you off first then, if your health is at risk. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Hoseok tuts disapprovingly. “You’re no fun. In fact, neither is Seokjin. I’ve been sitting on your lap for ten minutes and you’re still not hard.”

The eldest makes a squawk of outrage. “I’m not a horny teenager!”

“True,” Hoseok mulls, eyes floating around the room to land on Jungkook, who’s watching the scene with wide eyes and stuffed cheeks. When Hoseok stands up suddenly and approaches in his direction, the young boy makes a muffled cry of protest. “Jungkookie,” he sings playfully, edging his way around the table. Before he makes it, however, a single glossy shoe rises up in front of his knees, blocking his path forward.

Park Jimin, who’d been eating perfectly quietly until now, raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “He doesn’t want you to.”

Hoseok eyes the younger man, a picture of stern placidity with his navy blue hair coiffed and his plump lips pressed into a line. Unlike the rest, Jimin had chosen not to remove any of the formal wear from the introduction shoot, seeming perfectly at ease in a black silk blazer and impeccable skinny tie. Hoseok, however, had slipped off his shoes the moment you’d finished filming, choosing to keep casual in a plain white shirt, dress pants and comfortable slippers. He swallows hard, taking a step back to show Jimin he’s not looking for a fight. “All good,” he says airily, “I didn’t mean to start anything. We’re just having fun.”

“And your fun isn’t worth another person’s comfort,” Jimin explains coolly. “I would’ve expected someone with experience in the BDSM community would be more in tune to matters of consent.”

Once that word is uttered, a tense feeling fills the space, everyone’s faces tightening in discomfort. Jungkook rushes to swallow his mouthful, hands flailing. “I was fine, honestly!” he announces in a pitch heightened with concern. “I knew he was just joking around, and I would’ve said something if it didn’t- if I was uncomfortable. It’s fine, Jimin. Hoseok.”

Jimin settles back in his seat with Jungkook’s assurance, lowering his foot. Beside him, Namjoon stares blankly down at his bowl, jaw working at the awkward energy amongst the participants. Jungkook’s cheeks are bright red as he tugs his sleeves over his hands, covering them with the sweater paws. Hoseok continues walking around, but goes past the young boy, muttering a low word of apology before returning to his original spot beside Yoongi, who looks disappointed at the proceedings.

Anxious to diffuse the strain, and aware cameras are filming every moment, you clear your throat. “So is everyone here from Seoul? Or did you travel a bit to get here?”

Taehyung, to your right, seems relieved at the opportunity to discuss something else. “I’m actually from Daegu but I came here to study. Not quite a native, but I spend most of my time here, yeah.”

Across the table, Yoongi’s eyes light up. “No way! Me too! Well, I went back home after I got my licence. Daegu’s more my pace.”

“I’m from Busan,” Jungkook pitches in. “Jimin too.”

Like clockwork, the rest of you turn to glance at the poised man, who simply gives a nod and a small smile in confirmation.

“Do you two…know each other?” Taehyung questions in surprise. “You both do porn, right?”

“They don’t, there are just like a million comments on Jungkook’s streams and Jimin’s videos saying that they should collab because they’re both from Busan.” Namjoon opens his mouth to keep speaking, but catches himself, cheeks painted a violent red as he realises he’s said too much.

“Do you watch us, Namjoon?” The whole group seems shocked when it’s Jimin, not Jungkook, who poses the question. When he’s not being stern, Jimin’s face is actually quite bright, with plump lips turned up in a sly grin and perfectly sculpted brows lifted high. His voice is lilting, playful, nothing like the scolding monotone Hoseok had received. “I had wondered if our Lady of the show would be a fangirl. I must admit; I never considered we’d have a fanboy.”

Namjoon chuckles in embarrassment, avoiding the curious gazes of everyone around the table. “I mean… You guys are both pretty popular, that’s all…”

“I actually haven’t seen either of you, if I’m honest,” you pipe up, wanting to give Namjoon a chance to breathe. He shoots you a grateful smile, piling some rice and kimchi into his mouth to give himself something to do. “I’ve never been one to watch porn at all, so I’m definitely curious about it all. Maybe I should be watching so I have an idea of what I’m in for.”

Jimin grins at you, wry but dripping in charisma. “Oh, I’m sure Namjoon could give you some recommendations.”

The man himself chokes suddenly, cheeks bulging as he reacts viscerally to Jimin’s teasing quip. Once he swallows down his food in shaky gulps, he lets out a sheepish sigh. “Can we all pretend like I never said anything? I was meant to keep quiet about it until we got to know each other properly and it wasn’t so awkward… I can’t believe I spilt the beans on the first night.”

On his other side, Taehyung reaches across to his couch and pats him on the knee. “You aren’t alone, Namjoon. I watch the gukked97 streams religiously.”

“The what?” Seokjin asks in confusion.

“My streams,” Jungkook pipes up. “My username is gukked97, I’ve been doing weekly streams for a few years now. Cool to know I have some fans here, honestly. We should hang sometime. Outside of the show, I mean; I love meeting you guys. Would I recognise either of your usernames?”

Namjoon, though his face is returning to its usual caramel shade, coughs and declines to comment. Taehyung, however, seems considerably more shameless. “Maybe; I can’t afford to tip you that often, though, so it might not come up in your feed. I’m taebybaby.”

“Taeby!” Jungkook cheers immediately. “Oh my goodness, no, I remember you! How’s your dog, by the way?”

Visibly pleased, Taehyung grins. “He’s good. Still a little anklebiter, but that puzzle toy keeps him occupied during the day when I’m at work. Thanks for the recommendation, by the way.”

Seokjin’s head darts back and forth like he’s watching a tennis match. “I’m sorry; am I the only one that doesn’t know everybody already? You two apparently just met but you know he has a dog?”

“I just watch the streams,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “Jungkook is just really good at chatting with us all and making us feel like a community, you know? It’s actually really wholesome.”

Seokjin mouth opens, closes, and stays shut for a moment as his eyes wander, like he’s running an elaborate calculation in his head. “That’s nice,” he says finally, “sounds like a really healthy place for the both of you. Good stuff.”

“It’s a lot of fun,” Jungkook says warmly, chopsticks held aloft even though his bowl is empty. “And you don’t have to be embarrassed, Namjoon. I do really appreciate that you watch my shows, and I wouldn’t keep doing it if I didn’t enjoy it.”

Namjoon nods with a grateful smile, finally seeming to have calmed down. Taking the lull in conversation as an opportunity, Yoongi scoots forward in his seat and clasps his hands together. “If I may, Y/n, I have a question for you that I think a lot of us are curious about.”

Being pulled into the centre of the group’s attention so suddenly, you blink quickly, taken off guard. “Uh, yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

“This show is sponsored by a pornography company, but you are still living with us for however long we remain in the competition. Will you vote us off based on who you like most overall, or is it exclusively a matter of the best sex that week?”

You hum, smiling at the thought that a question like that is a reasonable one to ask you, that you’ve found yourself in such a strange situation. “I think it’s primarily based around the sex, sure, but sex is also better when there’s a connection there, and I certainly wouldn’t hesitate to vote someone off if they were a really negative presence in the house, you know? Yeah, I suppose to a degree it’s not exclusively the sex.”

Yoongi seems satisfied with the answer, and before anyone else steps in to pick up the line of questioning, a staff member, clothed in a basic black t-shirt and skinny jeans, steps up to the table, informing you that the interior of the house had finished being set up.

“So if you guys could turn in for the night, we’ll prepare the exterior cameras in his area, the pools and the gardens tomorrow when it’s light. Tomorrow we’ll officially start the first week, so please be down in the lounge at 10am for the briefing. We’ve assigned you rooms ourselves, so go find the door which has your name written on the post-it, and your stuff should already be inside.” The staff member pauses, consults her clipboard, and gives you all a curt smile. “And as a final reminder, no sexual activity until the game officially opens. That’s what the briefing is for. Have a good night, all. Oh! There are cameras in your bedrooms, but not in the private bathrooms for each room. The only bathroom with cameras is on the second floor, which is the large communal one. So just be aware. We’ll go through more of those details tomorrow, but I thought you should rest assured that you can shower unseen and get ready for bed in your bathrooms if you still aren’t used to the cameras.”

Everyone stays quiet for a moment after she leaves, processing the news.

“Weird,” Seokjin muses slowly, “so weird that last week I was at a friend’s wedding and now this coming week I’m going to get filmed eating, sleeping, and having sex.”

Taehyung, laughs, a huff of air through his nose. “I’d rather have mounted cameras than cameramen, though. It’s easier to forget when there isn’t a person attached.” He twists around in his chair to where a young, university-aged guy, films the scene. “No offense. You’re doing a great job.”

Yoongi lets out a yawn, and like wildfire, it gets sent around the outdoor dining area, until everyone is stretching, rubbing their eyes or blinking sleepily. “Well, if no one else wants to make the first move I will,” he mumbles. “Goodness, normally I’m up til midnight at least, why am I so tired?”

Jimin consults the heavy silver watch on his wrist. “Perhaps because it is midnight.”

“Really? Fuck. Yeah, then I’m definitely going to find my room. I better not get the smallest one just because I’m short.”

You wait for Seokjin to file out before you do, feeling a wave of exhaustion seep into your bones now that you knew the time. “Does this place have eight bedrooms? I feel so fancy staying here.”

Behind you, Taehyung agrees emphatically. “At least you have job security. Us guys have to hope for the best.”

“Not just hope,” you reply teasingly, “there is one thing you could do that would increase your chances.

Taehyung hums, almost more like a muffled sigh. “Not tonight, though.”

Your reply is caught in your throat as you follow behind Seokjin, entering the villa for the first time. It had seemed massive from the outside - a sprawling, two-storey mansion with gardens out the front, and tennis courts, swimming pools and the outdoor dining area bracketing the three other sides of the building. Now though, as you step into what must be a living room, you realise just how huge the budget must be for this show.

Rather than a normal house, the layout here feels very open. Even though you stand just inside the living room, there’s no real boundary to the kitchen apart from an island bench, and a set of opened French doors just ahead lead to the foyer, which all of you (bar Seokjin and Jungkook, who have gotten sidetracked by the kitchen) step into, cooing in wonder.

It’s easy to lose track of cameras, as they’re studded in every corner, on shelves, cabinets, above doorways, and those are just the ones you can easily see.

You know they’ll be capturing your every reaction, and every minute of your life for the next two months, but Taehyung was right: it’s a lot less invasive and easy to ignore when they’re just there.

The interior itself is gorgeous, but in your sleepiness, you head straight past the living room and kitchen, overtaking Hoseok and Jimin in your haste.

“Are all the rooms upstairs?” you question. The foyer isn’t particularly large, just the front door to your left and the stairs to your right, but running down the length of the stairs just beside is another corridor. “This place is massive.”

You watch as Taehyung jogs ahead, poking his head into the various doors along the hallway, raising his voice so the rest can still hear. “Another living room. Laundry. Huge bathroom.” Out of sight, you hear a whoop. “And a gym! Holy shit!”

“A gym?”

You jump with the sudden voice over your shoulder, whirling around to see Jungkook rushing past, just about skidding on the carpet in his haste to go join Taehyung. As much as you appreciated a good workout, exercise was the last thing on your mind right now. “Bedrooms upstairs, then,” you hum to yourself, seeing Yoongi and Namjoon already making their way up.

The upstairs is a bit more private than the bottom floor, just a basic hallway branching off in either direction with doors for each bedroom.

The doors are open, and instead of beelining for the one with your name on it, you check them out one-by-one. Directly across from the top of the stairs is Namjoon’s room, indicated by a printed piece of paper taped to the door. Namjoon’s already inside, hauling a heavy plastic suitcase onto the bed. It’s decently small, with the bed taking up almost a whole third of the floor space, but the bed itself is big enough for two people, with a lush pale blue duvet and a folded woollen blanket at the end. There’s a door that’s partly ajar to reveal what looks like an ensuite, and it triggers the memory of what the staff member said: that the bedrooms had cameras but not the private bathrooms. Automatically, your eyes dart up to the ceiling, where the beady lens of a camera is angled down to the bed. You sigh. That would take some getting used to.

“Can’t find your room?” Namjoon’s hesitant voice ventures.

You glance back down and shake your head with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I’m just being nosy.”

“No problem,” he shrugs, “you can come in, if you want. I was just going to unpack a little bit.”

Though the offer is tempting, considering you haven’t gotten to know him much over the evening, you can’t deny the heaviness of your eyes and the yawn that always seems to bunch up in your jaw, waiting to spring it open. “I would love to, but I think the risk of me falling asleep on my feet is too high at the moment.”

“Oh. Of course.” He smiles, but it’s self-deprecating, like he regrets asking, and it makes your heart twang.

“Are you a morning person? How about we eat breakfast together before the briefing? I don’t usually eat much in the mornings, but Seokjin still hasn’t come out of the kitchen, so there must be some good stuff.”

Namjoon laughs at that, and your heart eases. He’s totally unlike the stereotypical image of a virgin; all broad smiles, endearingly messy hair and a single dimple. You were curious to hear more about him, unravel why he hadn’t done anything yet. But that was a venture for another day. “Sounds good,” he accepts with a friendly chime. “I should probably head to bed too, actually. Sleep well, Y/n.”

“You too,” you reply, leaving him to it.

Not wanting to disturb anyone again, you simply observe what you can from the hallway. On either side of the hallway, there are four doors; two on Namjoon’s side, one across the hall beside the staircase, and one on the far end. Picking the left wing, you start down, coming across Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s rooms side-by-side, both empty. Interestingly, the rooms all seem to be different sizes, with slightly different furniture, and you wonder how exactly the staff decided who went where. Taehyung’s room was around the same size as Namjoon’s, but with a narrower bed and a small mounted TV, and Jungkook’s was bigger than them both, with a desk and a bedside table. Across from Jungkook’s open door was a shut one, with the paper reading MIN YOONGI. Hearing no noise, you move down to the final door at the end of the hallway, pausing when you see no name taped to the outside.

Approaching curiously, you notice that this is the first room bunk beds rather than double beds. Likewise, they don’t seem as lushly dressed as the others, almost like ones you’d find at a school camp.

There were two three-high bunks on either side, the highest ones less than half a metre from the ceiling, and below the window one skinny single bed. All of them were basic foam mattresses with a pillow and a folded blanket, and you frown at how barren this room feels compared to the rest.

Deciding to bring it up tomorrow instead of wondering about it now, you turn back the way you came, past the foot of the stairs. Here, you see the open doorway of Hoseok’s room, the man already in a plain black t-shirt and flannelette pyjama pants, humming to himself as he brushed his teeth and typed away on his phone.

Past that, you finally see your own name, and an inviting open door to a room far larger than the other occupants you’d seen. Counting your blessings, you spy your familiar suitcase waiting for you at the foot of the king-sized bed, larger than your own one at home, and the ensuite with a shower and a bath inside.

Like Namjoon’s, the bathroom is sparkling white and camera-free, but you spot at least three in the bedroom itself - two up by the ceiling and one on a shelf of the tall (and otherwise empty) bookcase, pointed straight at the bed. Fantastic.

Then again, this is what you’d signed up for, and it shouldn-

“Y/n?”

You jump at the soft melodic tone, the sudden noise catching you off-guard. Whirling around to the doorway, you’re even more shocked to see that it’s Jimin, head and shoulder resting against the frame with his ankles casually crossed over. Unlike the rest of him, however, his face is twisted in uncertainty. “Jimin?”

His lip twitches gratefully. “I hate to do this on the first night, but it looks like my assistants didn’t have all of my suitcases brought over, and I can’t find my makeup bag. Do you have any makeup remover?”

“Oh!” Unsure what you were expecting, it definitely wasn’t that. You blink at your still-packed suitcase. “I have one somewhere in there,” you start. “I can drop it off for you, or you’re welcome to just wait here?”

Jimin’s brow knits together. “I’ll wait,” he answers, but rather than stepping in as you’d expect, he remains calmly in the doorway, eyes lidded as they watch you scramble to unzip your suitcase.

Feeling slightly pressured with him just standing there, you root through your stuff, cursing the way you’d haphazardly shoved everything inside when packing. With Jimin’s intense gaze on you, you toss aside shoes, underwear, hygiene products and any of the various items you’d managed to squeeze in, searching for the bottle. Narrow but weighty, you find it slipped down the bottom, tucked between a t-shirt and a lace thong, and you quickly jump up, rushing over to hand it to him.

When you look at him again, he’s lost that slightly unsure expression, and a bemused grin has stretched his plump lips. When you thrust the bottle towards him with an intimidated smile, his fingers don’t wrap around the bottle itself but around your wrist, thumb brushing at your sensitive skin, making your breath hitch.

He draws it out for one agonising second, eyes swirling with something calculating as he applies the slight bit of pressure, and you feel your pulse beat beneath it, speeding up when the tip of his tongue pokes out one corner of his mouth and slowly slides across, wetting his lips in a clearly suggestive motion.

Your stance falters, body wanting to lean in but mind trying to keep boundaries, and you lose your nerve, dropping his gaze.

Like a switch is flicked, Jimin’s hand leaves your wrist, sliding down to gently lift the bottle out of your hands. Though your eyes are lowered, watching the thin oil slosh inside the bottle, watching his perfectly manicured nails tap the plastic, his voice is like soft silk in your ears. “Thank you, Y/n. Will you be needing it back tonight?”

Your tongue works faster than your brain, eager to please. “You can have it for tonight,” you say automatically, bypassing the fact that you have makeup yourself you haven’t yet removed.

Jimin hums, pleased, and you suck in a breath as he takes his free hand and runs it across your cheek, downwards towards your chin where he gives your lower lip the lightest brush, before he pushes off the doorframe, and you hear the dull padding of his shoes down the hallway.

Stunned, you duck your head out, watching him disappear into the room at the end of the hall, the next door down from you. The door shuts, and you feel yourself sink from the tension being cut like a string. What the fuck was that? If Park Jimin had the ability to haze your mind with such a simple touch, you weren’t sure you’d even survive having sex with him.

Staring at the blinking red light of the hallway camera across from you, you make a mental note to watch some of his videos. Any preparation you could do at this point seemed wise.

Before you shut your door and turn in for the night, you glance at the door across the hall from you. KIM SEOKJIN. At some point, he must have snuck up, because the door is shut, rather than swung open like before.

Head full with thoughts, you do your best to remove your makeup with basic cleanser, not even bothering to shower, instead just shucking off your dress in the privacy of the bathroom and stumbling sleepily into a sleep shirt that falls low enough to not require pants.

Leaving your clothes on the tiles and your trashed suitcase on the carpet, you’re asleep before your head hits the memory foam pillow.

Chapter Text

Namjoon’s already in the kitchen when you stumble down yourself, yawning blearily. He’s put two mugs on the counter, waiting for an electric kettle to boil.

“Morning,” you try to say cheerily, but it’s wrecked by the croakiness of sleep.

“I thought you were a morning person,” the lilac-haired boy quips, pushing off the counter. “Tea or coffee?”

“Ah, coffee please. And as much sugar as possible.” There’s a line of four bar stools on the outside of the kitchen island, and you slump into one, rubbing at your eyes. “I swear I’m normally better than this. I just slept so well last night that my body wants more.”

He chuckles, spooning out the coffee crystals and sugar. “I feel you. I think my room has the comfiest bed I’ve ever experienced. Please do keep me in the show long enough to realign my back and calibrate a positive sleeping schedule. I might leave here a changed man.”

You laugh heartily, gratefully accepting the hot cup of coffee he slides across to you. The heat seeps through the ceramic, warming your fingers and palms. “When the producers said you had to be good in bed, that’s not what they meant.”

Namjoon grins through a sip of his own coffee, distinctly darker than yours. “Well, I’m not expecting to stay here long at all. There’s no way I can compete with men that actually know what they’re doing. Truthfully, I’ve been worried I’m going to chicken out completely. It’s a lot more intimidating now that I’m actually here.”

The last of your sleepiness leaves you with his somber thoughts, and you sit up properly, taking a deep inhale of the rising steam. “It must be pretty freaky. I was a nervous wreck before I lost my virginity and at least it wasn’t being filmed.” Taking a slow sip, your mind whirrs. “D’you know what? The rules never say the sex has to be penetrative. Why don’t we take baby steps and I just suck you off this week?”

Namjoon chokes on his coffee, the sudden cough sending liquid splattering over the edges of his mug, on the bench and his shirt and running down his arm. You can’t hold back your snort of laughter and he gives you a look like a wounded puppy, though a smile of his own tugs at his lips. “You can’t just whip that out all of a sudden,” he defends, rubbing futilely at his stained shirt. “But… if you don’t mind, I think that would be really nice. And I appreciate how down-to-earth you’re being about all this.”

Before you can reply, you’re cut off by the simultaneous buzzing of your phones. Checking it, you see the producer must have sent you all a mass text, giving instructions for the first briefing. It was meant to take place at 10am, in the lounge just across from the kitchen, which gave you little over an hour to get ready.

Still in your pyjamas, with no makeup, messy hair and probably morning breath, you curse, chugging the last of your coffee in three loud gulps. “Thank you so much for the drink, Namjoon,” you say as you rush to put it in the dishwasher, “I’ll see you back here in an hour!”

“O-okay, no worries!” he calls out after you, still holding his nearly-full coffee.

—-

“Are we all ready?”

Automatically, you look around at your fellow participants. On one couch, Jimin sits calmly in the middle, one leg over the other. You can tell by the pearlescent glimmer on his waterline and the line of black above his lashes that he’s put on makeup again, and with the way his hair rests so perfectly and his fitted black sweater is completely unwrinkled, you can tell the high standard he holds himself to. The two men that flank him, however, seem more or less unbothered with how they appear.

Min Yoongi is slumped over the arm of the couch to Jimin’s left, fully dressed but eyes lidded like he’s still half-asleep. On Jimin’s other side, Jungkook has chosen not to get out of his pyjamas at all, bare feet tucked up beneath the hem of an oversize grey shirt, legs bare apart from some boxers with what look like little cartoon Spiderman figures on them.

Adjacent to the three of them, you sit by the arm of the second couch, with Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon all squished up on it in varying states of alertness. Taehyung has foregone the couches completely, cross-legged on the floor in sweatpants and a loose hoodie.

You yourself are feeling fresh, if not a little confused. When you’d returned to your room, you’d noticed your bottle of makeup remover sitting on your bed with no note and no sign of Jimin. For some reason, it had disappointed you to see it just sitting there.

But for now, you focus on the present. In front of you all, is one of the male producers, a kind, middle-aged man named Sejin. He’d been the one that had managed most of your interviews, and it had pleasantly surprised you how not-pervy-at-all he had been.

After receiving a mediocre response of nods, he laughs softly. “You lot better get used to this, because we’ll have a meeting much like this every Monday morning, same time and place. This one will be a little longer since we have some housekeeping to cover first, so let’s get through this fast and you can all be on with your day.” Sejin pauses when a tanned hand rises in the air in question. “Yes, Taehyung.”

The boy drops his hand and sits up straighter. “Can you buy us some strawberry jam?” he questions hopefully.

“Excuse me?”

“This morning I went to have toast, but there was only peanut butter and raspberry jam. I’d really like some strawberry jam, if that’s possible.”

Like he’s set off a chain reaction, you see several of the men perk up, requesting various items. It seems Jungkook wants some unscented hand soap for his bathroom, because his is “too strong”, Namjoon needs some more shelving space in his room for his books, and Seokjin has an entire grocery list in his head.

“Wait, wait!” Sejin rushes, waving his hands to settle the outcry. “I’ll get the staff to put a shopping list somewhere, but please keep in mind we don’t have an unlimited budget. Anyways, back to business. Every room is filmed except private bathrooms, and the rec room on the other side of the stairs. We do ask that you don’t spend all your time in the unfilmed rec room, otherwise it would be a very boring show indeed, but it’s there should you need it. For those of you familiar with reality shows, there will be a confessional room which you’ll need to go to at least once a week. The other members won’t find out what you say there, and we’ve renovated the garden shed out the back to be a standalone room so that you don’t have to worry about being overheard.” Sejin takes a breath, looking out over the room, where both Yoongi and Namjoon look completely lost. “If you don’t understand the purpose of a confessional, it’s where contestants go to give their personal thoughts, opinions and comments on the show and the other members in the house. This includes you, Y/n. Guys, if you get eliminated, you’ll give one last comment in the confessional, but otherwise, the producers will be asking you questions from the team and from fans of the show. We ask that you answer honestly.”

“So, it’s where we go to talk shit?” Seokjin questions immediately.

“Put crudely, yes.”

The eldest contestant nods, a content smile puffing up his cheeks. “Excellent.”

“In terms of your lives outside the show, you’re more than welcome to send correspondence photos, videos. You can post on your various social medias about being on the show and life on the show, since we’ll be releasing episodes live every week, and some paid viewers may purchase uninterrupted streams of cameras so that they can see how everything occurs in real-time. However, the one exception is that you mustn’t comment on the elimination or whether you’re in or out of the show still until the episode airs on the Tuesday. Eliminations will be on a Monday morning, so you won’t have to wait long.”

Jungkook furrows his brow. “And when we get eliminated, we just… pack up and go?”

“Correct,” Sejin nods. “Of course you’re all allowed to stay in contact should you wish, but you will have to pack up immediately, go to the confessional room one last time and leave.”

Slowly, everyone turns to look at you. Your heart thuds anxiously. Suddenly, now that you’re here, the thought of sending someone home so quickly makes your stomach turn. And you’d have to do it every week.

“I don’t envy you,” Seokjin says, pressed up beside you. He pats your knee comfortingly, sending you a warm smile. “We won’t take it personally, Y/n, it’s just a game.”

There’s a beat of awkward tension, in which some of the other participants seem ready to disagree, but Sejin clears his throat and hastily continues. “For everyone’s peace of mind, Y/n is on birth control and every player, her included, are fully clean. We provide condoms in several rooms of the house but it’s really a personal preference if you’d like it. The hallway cupboard has various supplies including toy cleaner. Please be hygienic. That’s just about it for the housekeeping, the last thing being that the safeword for everyone here is Red Light. Not only you, but also the staff can use the safeword if anything occurring is unsafe or beyond the limits of the people involved. If you don’t stop what you’re doing immediately and let staff handle it, you will be removed from the show. We want to know that while there will likely be a lot of intense sexual activity, that safety is paramount.”

Like all the tension has been released, Sejin’s shoulders relax and an easygoing grin lights up his face. “Now, onto the fun stuff! The basic premise of the game is simple. Each week, each of the remaining Gentlemen must engage in sexual activity with Y/n, and every Sunday, she’ll vote someone off. However, we’ve added several house rules to make things a bit more interesting. You’ve probably already been informed, but I’ll reiterate that you may engage in sexual activity as often as you like, with any members given that it falls within the limits of those involved. But beyond that, as the on-site producer I’ll also be giving the Gentlemen prompts each week. You will randomly draw them from a pile, and your scene with Y/n must fulfill the prompt. For example, if you drew a card that read ‘anal’, there would have to be some sort of anal play in the scene. Get creative. It doesn’t have to be all on Y/n, it just has to be involved.” With the introduction of overt sexual discussion, you see various shades of red in some of the players cheeks, particularly Namjoon and Taehyung. Sejin ignores it, continuing forth like he’s on the clock. “The players must not tell Y/n what their prompt is, but she will know the theme of that week. For example, this week’s theme is locations, but I’ll get into that soon.”

You furrow your brows. Locations? The rules of the show stated you had to remain on-site at all times.

“If you fail to complete your prompt, it doesn’t mean you’re eliminated, however there will be a penalty. You may have noticed an extra room upstairs. Each week, participants that failed their prompt will have to leave their comfortable rooms and stay in the Black Box - the room with bunk beds at the end of the hall. There are seven beds there so even if everyone fails, you’ll all be there for the week. The final layer to the game is that Y/n will pick her personal favorite scene at the end of every week. The player or players involved, if they’re still in the game, will get a reward. Now; are you ready to draw your first prompts?”

You glance around the room. The guys, even ultra-composed Jimin, seem a bit dumbfounded by the info dump, and there’s no response except for an uncertain, wobbly ‘yes?’ from Hoseok.

Sejin winces. “You’ll get the hang of it.” Another staff member rushes up on his gesture, with a handful of black slips the size of playing cards. “Written on the back are the different prompts. Again; don’t show them to Y/n, though you’re welcome to show them to other players if you choose. You have all week to fulfill your prompt, and you’re more than welcome to play around more if you want. To get you all used to the villa, the theme this week is locations. Who wants to go first?”

After a pause, it’s Taehyung that hunkers up and goes over, picking a card from the pile. He glances at it, holding it close to his chest, and a minute sigh leaves his lips. Your heart sinks. Was it really that bad? You try and make eye contact, but he’s eying the carpet as he sits back down, biting onto his tongue with a small frown.

Seokjin goes next, picking the top card and grinning at whatever is written on the other side. When he sits down beside you again, he’s already slipped the card into his pocket, and only winks at the questioning stare you give him.

It’s strangely hush, everyone ripe with anticipation, and you watch raptly as Hoseok goes up next, letting out a disbelieving chuckle. Then comes Jungkook, who tries to remain poker-faced by pressing his lips tightly together; Yoongi, who hums at his, reaction unreadable; Jimin, whose eyes immediately find yours, molten with bemusement; and finally Namjoon, who pales and goes stock-still like a deer when he sees his.

“Can- Can we swap?” he asks Sejin nervously.

“Does the prompt cross any of the hard limits you put on your application?”

Namjoon blinks, a gaunt look of defeat in his eyes. “I guess not.”

“It’s okay, Namjoon,” you call out soothingly, “it’s just one scene.”

“I can’t wait to see what room of the house Namjoonie will lose his virginity in,” Hoseok chuckles, then hisses when Seokjin swats his arm chastisingly.

The damage is done however. So, the locations are rooms of the house? You don’t know why, but for some reason you’re a little surprised to hear that it wouldn’t just be bedrooms where the scenes would take place. Of course, it wouldn’t make sense to only do it in private - though of course very few places were private in this house - but once again the reality of your situation is a little confronting.

Sejin just sighs at Hoseok’s slip. “Well, that’s all I have to say for today, I suppose. Like I said, I’m the on-site producer, but I’ll be in the campervan across the driveway so I’m not in everyone’s way. There will also be at least one medically-trained staff member with me at all times who will be monitoring the cameras just in case. Come over if you need anything, and otherwise, I’ll see you here again this Sunday night at 10pm. Have a good week.”

You and some of the others call out a friendly goodbye to Sejin, but the moment you hear the front door shut just around the corner, an awkward silence fills the room.

Hopefully, it won’t always be this tense, but you’re still all strangers, and the elephant in the room is a particularly intimate one. Sighing at the extended quiet, you decide to break the ice. “Well, unless anyone has a burning need to get their prompt over and done with, should we hang out and get to know each other a bit?”

—-

In the end, Seokjin and Yoongi decide to prepare a brunch for everyone, Jungkook trailing behind like a puppy looking for scraps. Taehyung and Hoseok go upstairs to collect some extra cushions off the beds, and Namjoon fiddles with the TV remote, leaving you and Jimin in charge of setting the table, darting back and forth between the aromatic, lively kitchen and the low coffee table in the lounge with armfuls of plates, placemats, cutlery and seasonings.

“No chance of you giving me a hint on what your card said?” you question once you’ve finished placing everything on the table.

Jimin grabs one of the couch cushions to sit on, fiddling mindlessly with the tip of a chopstick, twirling the slender metal against his fingertip. “You should wait and find out like a good little girl. I like my subs patient.”

His words send a hot throb of arousal to your core, but the image of your makeup remover, returned without a word of thanks - or a word, period - has you wanting to bite back. “It’s a shame this show isn’t about what you like, then,” you comment with a testing stare. “You should be more concerned about how I like my doms.”

“I won’t be pandering to you, Y/n,” he says firmly, a hard contrast to the soft finish of his face. “I’m going to do what I do best and you’re going to beg me for it.”

“I don’t beg.”

Behind him, Taehyung and Hoseok are bounding noisily down the stairs, two cushions each, but Jimin doesn’t pay them any mind. He just holds your stare boldly, quirking a brow. “If you’d like to feel my cock inside you, you will.”

The cheer of the boys as Seokjin and Yoongi begin bringing in steaming dishes breaks the fragile bubble between the two of you, and as the room fills with conversation and your bowl is filled by the two cooks, you get the undeniable feeling that Jimin has once again won.

—-

It only takes another meal shared for that strange tension to dissipate, and soon enough you even forget the anxious anticipation of wondering when you’d be taken first. It’s easy to focus your mind on Seokjin’s dramatic retelling of weird clients with names altered for privacy and Hoseok’s unending feed of pictures of his dog.

Having just eaten, you all favour movie snacks over a proper lunch as Taehyung and Hoseok once again trek upstairs, bringing down armfuls of blankets to curl up in as the general majority decide on the latest Marvel movie for entertainment.

In fact, the entire day slips past without anyone really noticing. At one point, Jungkook ducks back upstairs to get changed into actual clothes (a pair of black skinny jeans that hug his thighs distractingly, and a wide-neck t-shirt that reveals his collarbones. He chooses to sit next to you, stealing Seokjin’s place when he leaves to go to the bathroom, and you feel your heart skip a beat as his hand skims up your arm or rests on your thigh for a moment or two. Every time, though, he loses his nerve, and puts his hands back in his lap, wringing them together nervously. If you weren’t so nervous yourself, you might return the hesitant attention, but you chicken out yourself, trying to focus on whatever CGI fight was on the screen at the time.

Still not really hungry, you settle for ramen for dinner, eating slowly like you’re waiting for something. It comes as somewhat of a shock to you that nobody has pulled you aside or cornered you, and you suspect everybody is waiting on someone else to make the first move. That, or nobody got the living room as a prompt, where you’d been spending the whole day. Either way, by the time you put your dishes in the dishwasher and say goodnight to the boys, you’re feeling weirdly on edge, a confused heat between your legs that had been lying dormant all day.

A hot shower is what you need, and you let yourself savour it, knowing there were no cameras in your ensuite bathroom.

Being the central pillar of the show had its perks, and a spacious bathroom was quickly proving to be one of your favourites. With plenty of bench space on the vanity for your belongings, heated floors, a shower and a jacuzzi tub, you imagined this was initially intended to be the main bedroom of the villa, and you certainly weren’t complaining.

The shower itself was relatively small, but that just meant the steam gathered faster, and you sat under the rush of hot water long enough that you felt boneless and heavy, skin pink and heart soothed. You’d packed shower supplies but there were already some unopened products in there when you got in, a grapefruit shampoo, matching conditioner, and some sweet vanilla-esque body wash. By the time you’d toweled off your hair and patted yourself dry, slipping into your baggy shirt and some fresh panties, you felt rejuvenated and calm.

That calm, however, only lasts the four steps it takes you to turn back into your bedroom and see Kim Seokjin sitting at the end of your bed. You’d left your bedroom door open and just locked your bathroom door while you were in showering, but now it’s closed, Seokjin with his jean-clad legs spread casually and eyes on you, and the implication sends licks of heat down your spine.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say, feeling goosebumps break out on your bare arms and thighs at his stare.

“Am I the first?” he asks instead. You swallow and nod. With a warm smile, Seokjin pats one of his thighs, inviting you over.

Now that the moment is here, the reason you were on the show, your nerves dissipate. Perhaps it’s the blooming arousal between your legs, or perhaps it was because Seokjin himself had made you so comfortable in the house so far, but you pad over barefoot without hesitation, straddling his lap and bracing yourself on his shoulders, deliciously broad.

Seokjin licks his lips to wet them, eyes bright. “Have you been waiting for someone?” he questions. “Seeing who would come for you first?”

You nod again, shivering as a warm palm skirts around your waist and up your back, slipped under the hem of your shirt to touch your bare skin. “All day,” you admit. “I thought I was going to have to get myself off tonight.”

Unabashedly, Seokjin looks down, massaging the top of your thigh higher and higher to shift your shirt up, exposing your panties. His brazen gaze makes you feel naked already, and your breathing picks up, waiting for him to say something. “Are you feeling needy, baby?”

You swallow hard. “Yeah.” Your voice wobbles and your fingers tighten on his shoulders, feeling weak from anticipation.

“Mm,” he hums, sliding the hand on your back around so it brushes against the side of your breast, just cupping the swell. “Can I take care of that for you?”

“Please,” you breathe, just about shivering from your contained excitement. Seokjin’s voice is normally so colourful and jumpy, but his tone now is a rolled-out drawl, low enough to be a murmur but rich enough enough to make your toes curl. And there’s something about the way you sit above him in scant pyjamas, while he remains fully dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved navy blue top, entirely composed.

“Then give me a kiss,” he instructs, and you duck down immediately, pressing your lips desperately to his, feeling the silky pillows part in a small grin before he kisses back. With his legs parted and yours straddling him, there’s a section of open air between your core and him, and as your hands lift to cup at his face hungrily, holding his mouth to yours, you find yourself grinding uselessly into the air, searching for friction you won’t receive.

You groan into your mouth when Seokjin’s hand closes over your breast fully, stiff peak pressing into his palm. He breaks away from your lips enough to catch a breath. “Should we take this shirt of yours off?” he questions, slightly out of breath.

You nod, letting him lift it over your head, tossing it to the floor. Now clad only in your panties, which are quickly becoming soaked with arousal, your bare chest is on display for him and, incidentally, anyone who chose to watch the show.

The reminder of the cameras watching impassively only lingers a moment, because Seokjin takes your distraction to curse lowly, lean in and suck one of your nipples into the heat of his mouth, moaning around you.

You cry out, fisting a hand in his black locks as his tongue swirls, sending shocks of pleasure through your system. You keen your hips forward, seeking something to rut against, but he presses your hips down, holding them at a distance.

Seokjin pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, teeth catching and tugging at it deliciously. “Harder or softer?” he asks, voice gravelly with arousal, and it takes you a moment in your delirium to realise what he’s asking.

“Fuck, harder,” you moan, and his mouth is on you again, this time laving and nipping and sucking mercilessly at your other nipple, making your mouth drop open in silent ecstasy, whimper catching in your throat. “So good, Seokjin-ah, I want more!”

A high whine is ripped from your throat as you finally feel fingers where you need them most, slipping under your underwear to rub harshly at your clit, your body seizing up deliciously at the sudden onslaught. Even though you’re all but naked, your skin feels like it’s on fire, a heat from within that intensifies with every flick of his tongue and press of his finger.

Seokjin switches nipples again, pausing to glance up at you with mussed-up hair and swollen lips. “Feels good?” You let out affirmative yips, rocking your hips as much as you can to increase the friction. He grins wolfishly. “Want more?”

“Fuck, yeah, please, need them inside, Seokjin-ah,” you make out through gasped pants.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he coos warmly, and you let out a broken moan as his fingers slip lower, past your clit to slip easily inside your wet heat. You’d noticed a slight wonkiness to his fingers before, but feeling them inside you was a toe-curling experience. Even two fingers is a stretch, but you feel them so deep, and he holds them still, panties pushed to the side as a hand on your ass encourages you to bounce, seeking your own pace. “That’s it, that’s a good fucking girl,” he groans, and you falter, his words striking you with a bolt of pleasure. Without another moment’s pause, his mouth finds your tits again, sucking a nipple into his mouth so that you feel the delicious tug with every bounce.

Once you’ve set a steady pace, his free hand tugs your sodden panties aside further, thumbing at your clit. You feel the beginnings of an orgasm building all the way down to your fingers and toes, an all-encompassing warmth of pleasure. “Th-three, Seokjin-ah, I’m so close, I want three!”

Mouth on you, laving away, he chooses to answer by doing as you ask, seamlessly adding a third finger inside you, and you let out a scream as his hand begins to move, aggressively fucking up inside you as you bounce, enough to make the rhythmic wet smacking noises fill the room.

Uncaring of how loud you are, you let yourself moan ceaselessly, every breath a cry of pleasure, and you feel his mouth leave you, chin tipped up so his filthy words go straight to your ears. “God, such a good girl for me,” he praises, “sound so needy, you must be close, hm? I want you to cum for me, baby, I wanna feel you clench tightly around my fingers and let go. And then, once you’re done, I’ll fill that pretty little pussy up with my cock.”

Like a crashing wave, your orgasm barrels you over, making your chest collapse on his and your hips shudder as he fingers you through your orgasm, thumb not letting up on your clit until you grow restless with oversensitivity, writhing in his grip.

With arms wrapped lazily around his shoulders and chest heaving, you see rather than feel the way he fondly pats your dripping pussy, a move reminiscent of the way he’d patted your knee in the past, and the thought draws a final low moan from your throat.

Seokjin’s hand is in your hair, smoothing it back so he can whisper in your ear. “Did so well for me, baby. You did so well. I can clean you up and help you into bed if you’re finished, or we can keep going. It’s just the first night; I don’t wanna push you.”

It takes you a few moments to get enough strength to even lift your head up off his shoulder, still feeling strong aftershocks throbbing in your core and tingling in your extremities, but you take one glance at the sizeable tent in his jeans, a giveaway outline that runs partway down one thigh, and your arousal is reawakened.

“I wanna keep going,” you confirm. “But… Can you be on top this time?”

He stays silent a moment, eyes searching your face for any signs of reluctance or doubt, then smiles. “Of course. You wanna lie down?”

You bite your lip, nodding. “On my front?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

Seokjin helps you off him, a hand holding yours and the other on your waist to keep you from stumbling. Your legs feel like jelly, knees wobbling aggressively as you walk around to get up on the bed, and once you let your head rest on the pillow, you feel post-orgasmic sleepiness begin to haze your brain.

“Y/n,” Seokjin starts when he sees your eyes flutter, “are you sure? You seem pretty exhausted.”

You pout. “But I want you.”

His eyes soften, but his smile remains uncertain. “You can have me another time. Please don’t feel obligated, or like you should push yourself.”

Your pout deepens. “So you’re just gonna leave me high and dry?”

He laughs at this, a pealing laugh that restores some of the energy in you. “I just made you cum on my fingers, Y/n, I think you’ll live.”

You sit up again. “I feel better now. See? Not tired anymore. At least come cuddle.”

His brows quirk in understanding. “Ah, I understand. You get affectionate after a good orgasm, then?”

You sense his teasing tone and bury a smile, biting on the inside of your cheek. “Who said it was good? I think you better try again with your dick.”

Seokjin lets out a good natured huff, glossy fingers finding the button of his jeans. “Fine, then. Let it be shown on the records that I tried to be a gentleman as my role suggests, but Y/n was simply too greedy for my cock.”

You grin in victory. “That’s what the episode will be called, do you reckon? ‘Bangasm’s The Gentlemen, Season One: Greedy Y/n Demands Kim Seokjin’s Cock.’”

“We wouldn’t get many views using our names,” he considers, shucking his jeans as he speaks to reveal lean thighs and a dark spot on his boxers. “They’ll think ‘who’s this clown? And why is she fucking that handsome stranger?’”

“Hey!” Your cheeks ache but they puff further with the force of containing your smile. With weak legs, you kick out at him in protest. “You haven’t even fucked me yet, coward!”

“I’m getting there,” he pouts, “besides, they’ll edit this all out, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?” You frown, allowing yourself to stare as he pulls his shirt off, revealing smooth planes of skin, paler than his face and arms but still warm-toned, a trail of hair leading down under his bellybutton. “I think this is prime porn right here,” you gesture.

Though he chuckles in good spirit, his ears turn pink from the praise. “I’ll say something really unsexy and they’ll have to cut it. Taxes. Old people. Uhh… I’ll be honest, the non-sexy part of my brain isn’t working so well right now, you look so gorgeous waiting there for me.”

You fight your own blush, but your reply gets caught in your throat when Seokjin unceremoniously pushes off his boxers, revealing him in his full naked glory.

And glorious is certainly the word you’d use. Somehow appearing even bigger than what it had seemed in his pants, his cock is girthy and long, heavy enough that even with his straining erection, it hangs low between his legs, twitching as your heady gaze rests on it.

“You were really going to deprive me of that.” You intend to make your voice accusatory, but it comes out like a sigh of awe, of desire. Deciding you’ve had enough of talking, you reach down to slip of your panties, grimacing at how the wet fabric clings to you and catches on your thighs on the way off. You lie back, head on the pillow, and part your legs with a pleading look. Above Seokjin’s head, a red light blinks, but all you care about is him getting closer to you, getting inside you.

Seokjin curses lowly. “Fuck, you are a needy little thing, aren’t you? Though I suppose that’s what you’d need to be for a show like this.” He gets up and settles himself between your legs, raising a dark eyebrow. “What happened to wanting me to fuck you from behind?”

You grin victoriously and shuffle around onto your front, letting your upper torso rest on the mattress and your hips arch up, baring yourself to him fully.

Immediately, you feel broad hands gripping the flesh of your ass, spreading it so Seokjin can watch you clench around nothing. “If it’s too much, let me know,” he warns, and hear him sigh as the head of his cock runs up and down your folds, collecting your arousal.

You laugh weakly. “Your cock isn’t that hu-oh! Oh fuck.” Your fingers curl, fisting in the bedsheets as he pushes forward, slowly but steadily impaling you on his cock. Your mouth drops open and you can’t help but hold your breath at the feeling of him filling you up entirely.

“Okay?” he questions, but you can hear the strain in his voice at holding back. He finally bottoms out, and stills, giving you a moment to accommodate.

“Fuck, so big,” you curse, letting out a guttural groan. “You can move, please move, god.”

Once he begins to set a pace, hips smacking lightly against you, you squeeze your eyes shut, seeing bursts of brilliant technicolour, losing your mind in the glorious pleasure. Your hiccuped moans of pleasure encourage him to speed up, and with the increased momentum you can feel his balls slapping against your clit, dull pressure that nonetheless makes your toes curl.

Above you, Seokjin lets out a groan so throaty it sounds like a growl, and you cry out, feeling your high approaching quickly. “Cl-close, Seokjin-ah, don’t stop!”

“I’m not gonna stop until you fall apart around me,” he promises in a low, panting voice. “Want you to be my good girl and cum on my cock.”

You moan brokenly, pillow wet where you’ve drooled on it. Deliriously, your hand flies back behind you to wave him to fuck you faster, not trusting your voice.

He responds by slowing to a halt, and you whine, feet batting against the sheets in frustration, but then his hands find your hips, holding them tightly, and snaps his hips once, piercing you brutally deep, ripping a scream from your throat. You pant, waiting in anticipation as he does it once, twice, three times more, each one hard enough to bruise your ass with the force of his hips.

“Pluh-please,” you slur through gasped breaths, his measured thrusts keeping you on the wrong side of that high. “Just fuck me,” you whine desperately when he stills completely.

“I am fucking you,” he answers, grinding his hips against your ass to make himself shift inside you.

You could scream in frustration. “Jinnie,” you warble desperately, tears pricking at your eyes, “I was so close, please fuck me fast again. Wanna cum, Jinnie.”

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice velvet, and without further hesitation he’s fucking into you fast enough to shift the mattress underneath you, helpless to do anything except take his cock. It’s exactly what you need to send you vaulting over the edge, and it only takes a few moments before you’re collapsing into pleasured jerks and shudders, your hips failing. Chasing his own high, Seokjin just maintains a merciless grip on your hips, holding you up for him as he fucks you through your orgasm, continuing even when you whimper from oversensitivity. It only takes you clenching around him with aftershocks for him to spill inside you, filling you even more.

Panting, Seokjin pulls out of you slowly and lowers you to the mattress, rubbing a soothing hand up your back. “How are you doing, baby? Good?”

An exhausted smile stretches across your lips and you hum a confirmation, wiggling your toes as shocks of pleasure still ripple throughout your body.

“Alright, I’m just going to duck into your bathroom and get something to clean us up, okay? You stay right there. Deep breaths.”

You chuckle, but it comes out as pure air. “Oh, I won’t be going anywhere,” you make out. As you hear him leave to rummage in your bathroom, you feel the cottony pull of sleep in your mind, eyelids heavier than lead, but you force yourself to stay awake for him.

When he comes back, his boxers are back on and his hair isn’t as rumpled up as before. He cleans you up with what feels like a wet face towel, and carefully tucks you under the blankets, maneuvering your legs when you don’t have the energy to move them yourself.

“Do you still want to cuddle?” he asks softly, hand smoothing down your hair soothingly.

You try to answer an affirmative, really you do, but the exhaustion in your bones, the satisfaction in your core and the reassuring stroking of his hand on your head pull you under, and you’re asleep before you can form the words.

Chapter Text

It’s almost midday by the time you wake up. From outside your bedroom, the faint echoes of conversation remind you of just where you’d gone to sleep the night before. Of what you’d done the night before.

You dress quickly in some jean shorts and a loose shirt, wincing at the slight twinge between your legs, a welcome ache for what pleasure it had brought you. In the hallway upstairs, the collective hum of conversation is clearer, and you follow it down the stairs and to the kitchen, where six of the seven men are sharing breakfast at the dining table together, two waiting places still remaining.

You take the seat between Jungkook and Yoongi when the younger man greets you first, eyes wide as he pats the space. The other men glance up, conversations drifting off to greet you good morning.

The seat directly across from you is empty, Taehyung and Jimin at the chairs adjacent while Hoseok and Namjoon take the heads of the table. “Where’s Jin?” you ask in surprise.

“Jin?” Hoseok questions with a salacious smile. “Judging by the noises Jimin heard last night, you were the one who saw him last.“

Your cheeks heat, and though you want to curl up in embarrassment, you can’t help your eyes from automatically darting over to Jimin.

In a loose silk shirt the same gunmetal silver as the cutlery, Jimin’s blue hair stands out even more than usual, as well as the smokey eyeshadow that frames his intense stare.

"I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly. “I- Well, I guess that’ll probably be a regular occurrence one way or another.”

“Keeping me up at night with your shameless moaning?” he questions with a raised brow.

Out of everyone at the table staring at you, it’s his gaze which burns at your cheeks the most, making you drop his gaze, eyes down on the empty plate in front of you. “I meant more, um, having sex in general, since that’s the point of the show. But… sorry.”

“Just try and be quieter next time,” Jungkook suggests cheerily from beside you. The other members laugh, resuming their conversations or going back for more breakfast, but Jungkook’s attention lingers on you for a moment longer, before he stands up abruptly.

“Jungkookie, where are you going?” Taehyung calls out, twisting in his chair to watch as Jungkook steps into the kitchen, disappearing through the open door of the walk-in pantry. Jungkook doesn’t answer, but the rummaging sounds of plastic give his purpose away.

“Wow,” Yoongi drawls with an unimpressed frown, “I prepare all this food for you and he still needs to go fossicking for more.”

The attention sufficiently off you, you lean in to Yoongi’s side. “I’m just going to grab a drink from the kitchen, do you want anything?”

Yoongi shakes his head distractedly, more focused on buttering every last edge of the toast in his hand. Getting up, you let the blood finally leave your cheeks and your heart rate slow down. No point worrying about something you couldn’t really help.

In the kitchen, you can see easily across to the dining table, Taehyung’s and Jimin’s backs to you as you look through the refrigerator for something to drink.

The options are decently impressive, and you stare indecisively that the fridge beeps at you for being left open too long. Settling on some milk to make coffee, you turn and almost drop the carton at what greets you.

Crouched below the kitchen island innocuously, out of view of the boys, is Jungkook, grinning toothily at you, with a finger to his mouth in the universal ‘be quiet’ signal.

Your eyes widen, but as you look out across the bench to the dining room, nobody has noticed. Biting your lip, you grab a mug, turn the electric jug on and slowly walk over to where he is, standing so that his bent knees brush your shins.

Though nobody is paying you a lick of attention, you pretend to drop a spoon onto the ground before dropping below the level of the bench yourself, face-to-face with Jungkook.

“What are you doing?” you hiss quietly, the sound barely louder than your lips moving.

“You have to practice being quiet,” he says cheekily. “So let me eat you out while you make some coffee.”

“You’re crazy,” you whisper, but your eyes are entranced by the tip of his tongue as he licks his lips. “Fuck, okay.”

Ignoring his shiteating grin of victory, you grab the teaspoon and stand up again, reaching for the jar of coffee crystals. A minute sigh leaves your mouth when nimble fingers run up your thigh, over your shorts and begin fiddling with the button. Fuck, were you really doing this?

“Y/n?”

Your eyes dart up, fearing you’ve been caught, but Hoseok is smiling at you unawares, pointing at the jar in your hands.

“Could you make me a cup too? I can come get it-”

“No,” you blurt, swallowing as Jungkook’s hands don’t falter, reaching around to grasp at the meat of your ass from inside your shorts. “I’m already up, I don’t mind.”

You inhale through your nose as Jungkook flicks the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, voice a low murmur that only you can hear. “Selfish girl, ask if the others want a coffee too,” he instructs.

Your head feels funny, a combination of dizzy and hyper-focused. “Does anyone else want a cup too? It’s just the instant stuff.”

You get a few moments break from Jungkook’s roaming hands for the time it takes you to go fetch three more mugs, Namjoon and Yoongi also wanting a drink. The second you step back to the kitchen island, however, it’s like the boy is making up for lost time.

Without hesitation he’s undoing the button and the zip, pulling your shorts and panties down to your knees, a hand pushing your leg open wider so it doesn’t drop to the floor.

Fully bared, you bite down harshly on your tongue, shaky fingers undoing the top of the jar as a hot mouth descends upon you, devouring you like it’s his last meal.

Jungkook is good with his tongue, but he’s merciless, not holding back even as he has to grip onto your knees to stop them from buckling.

You feel unbelievably exposed, and with the casual stream of conversation continuing on just a few metres away, every touch feels electrified. Out of all the guys, Jungkook’s hair is the longest, and you can feel it tickling your thighs and lower abdomen, a strong arm wrapping around to hold you close to him.

Though it’s definitely far too quiet for the others to hear, the faintest sound of slurping feels like thunder in your ears, and as he sucks at your folds, tongue driving in deep inside you like he’s licking the inside of a wrapper, you press your lips together to hold back a moan.

Getting spoonfuls of ground coffee into each of the four mugs is a game of its own when long, narrow fingers find their way inside you, three at once slipping in your pussy, still stretched out from last night.

Clearly knowing thrusting them would be too loud, Jungkook instead just crooks them inside you, dragging them over your g-spot like he’s coaxing an orgasm out of you.

You focus on your task, letting the challenge of not spilling the dark powder anchor you, but all too soon the sound of the electric kettle reaching boiling point fills the room, and you know that once you reach over and pour the drinks, there’s really no other reason for you to be standing at the bench, and you couldn’t exactly go back with your shorts around your ankles and Jungkook lapping up your juices enthusiastically.

The ding of the kettle gets the attention of those wanting coffee, and you send them a weak smile as you reach for it, holding the handle with one hand and each mug with the other, relaxing in relief as Jungkook pauses his assault while you’re handling the boiling water.

Once the jug goes back in its place, you begin to stir the drinks as slow as you can possibly manage, Jungkook returning his ministrations with a vengeance, sucking harshly at your clit and slipping a fourth finger into you, still curling his fingers in a beckoning motion, stretching at your walls deliciously and rubbing over your g-spot every time.

You’re breathing heavily, you know you are, but you tell yourself that it least it isn’t moaning out loud.

Still waiting, Hoseok glances up. “Y/n, are you okay?” You nod hastily, a clipped moan escaping in place of a yes, but he’s not convinced. “You can’t carry all four mugs by yourself, I’ll come take two.”

“N-no,” you defend lowly, cursing internally as your orgasm approaches even faster with eyes on you, the arousal of danger running through your veins like liquid sex.

Hoseok doesn’t listen, getting up and jogging over. Behind him, the other boys are starting to get concerned too, frowning at the way you gasp for breath, eyes lidded.

“Shoot, Y/n, are you alright?” Namjoon asks, voice strained with worry. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Your head feels blurry as the realisation hits you: you’re going to orgasm in front of them all, while they’re waiting for their morning coffee.

As Hoseok approaches, he reaches out for the mugs, but his hands freeze halfway. The bench is only around the level of your waist, so there’s no doubt in his mind that at this distance he can see Jungkook’s head between your legs.

Rather than looking at Hoseok’s face, you make the mistake of glancing down, and it’s the obscene sight of Jungkook’s head of black locks bobbing between your legs that sends you over the edge.

“What is she- Y/n?”

Your knees buckle but Jungkook keeps you steady, so you lean forward instead, covering your face with your hands as a powerful orgasm rocks through you, the moans impossible to hold back as Jungkook gives up on being quiet, fucking you through the orgasm with his fingers and tongue.

“How good is that coffee?”

“It’s not the coffee, Tae.”

“…Oh.”

Once the white behind your eyelids settle, you let out a weak embarrassed moan, hearing the self-satisfied chuckle of Jungkook beneath you, licking you clean and lifting your shorts and panties, dressing you like nothing had ever happened.

Though of course, every single person in the room just watched you have an orgasm in the kitchen, and there was no pretending like nothing had happened.

Ignoring the loud buzz of confusion at the table, and the awkward cough of Hoseok as he took three mugs to the table, you bat away Jungkook’s hands and sink down, sitting on the floor with your back to the island bench, face in your hands still.

“I can’t fucking believe you did that,” you pant out morosely, your pussy still clenching rhythmically with aftershocks of pleasure.

Jungkook licks his lips like the cat that got the cream. “You loved it,” he retorts. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you came the moment Hoseok noticed what was going on?”

“Fuck you.”

“You didn’t even have to,” he chimes cheerily, standing up and going to join the others shamelessly.

You take a few more moments to compose yourself, letting Jungkook take most of the heat. Once the jibes begin to settle and your legs don’t feel so wobbly, you stand up again and grab the remaining cup of coffee, taking a sip and making your way back to the table with flushed cheeks.

“So, we’re just gonna pretend like that didn’t happen?” Taehyung asks in bewilderment.

“I would prefer if you did, yes,” you answer calmly, reaching out for a slice of cold toast.

He blinks. “Okay.”

For a few blissful moments, the seven of you return to your normal conversations, Jungkook resting a smug hand on your thigh as he chats away happily.

“Morning!” a sing-song voice calls out, and you all glance up to see Seokjin arriving, broad grin on his face.

After a moment, Taehyung lets out a yawn and the spell is broken, everyone going back to what they were doing before.

Visibly disappointed, Seokjin’s shoulders sink. “Morning,” he repeats again insistently. “Is no one gonna ask how I slept? Or what I did last night? Seriously?”

“That’s old news, hyung,” Taehyung explains matter-of-factly.

“How can it be old news already? I only just got up.”

“And you missed a lot,” Jungkook replies. “Besides, hyung, I’m worried about your diet. It tastes like you aren’t eating enough leafy greens.”

In the chaos that ensues, you couldn’t tell who goes redder - you, or Seokjin.

—-

“It’s kinda strange now that I’m here,” Hoseok comments. “I’m so used to being go-go all the time with work, and chores, and hobbies, and now it’s just…waiting around for food and sex.”

Taehyung chuckles, head resting back against the couch as he sits cross-legged on the lush carpet. “I’m not mad about it.”

After you had gone up to have a shower and reclaim a bit of your dignity, the group had dissipated. Jimin had apparently left to “take some business calls,” Jungkook had decided to break in the indoor gym (you could all hear the odd grunt and clang of equipment from the lounge area), and Namjoon had recently announced he was going outside for a walk around the backyard. The others had initially suspected he was making excuses for going to the Confessional Booth, but Jin had snuck out to the outdoor dining area and reported back that the younger man was “walking around with his hands in his pockets like a nerdy cryptid.”

Now, the remaining five of you chill on the couches, chatting away as Yoongi scrolls aimlessly through Netflix. You share a couch with him, Yoongi with his legs crossed and the remote resting on his knee, you spread out in the space between, toes almost touching his thigh. Across from you, Hoseok and Jin have chosen to both stretch out, Hoseok leaning back against Jin, with the older man’s legs on either side. Occasionally one of them will reach down to pat Taehyung’s head or rub his shoulder, Tae responding with a hum or grunt of approval.

It was strange how some individuals in the house had gotten closer faster than others. You knew Namjoon was still struggling with feeling like he wasn’t on par with the others, and Jimin clearly felt most comfortable with a strict boundary line that he maintained on his own terms, but on the other side of things, Hoseok and Jin were finding comfort in the casual skinship. You can’t help but wonder how things might progress as the game goes on.

“There’s nothing,” Yoongi announces with a frown. “Let’s find something else.”

“What else?” Hoseok asks, pouting glumly. “If I’m honest, I don’t even watch most movies and TV shows these days. When I watch something, it’s usually just porn to get inspiration for scenes.”

Taehyung sits up abruptly, dislodging Jin’s hand from lazily stroking his hair. “Then let’s watch porn.”

Yoongi scoffs out a laugh, before realizing Taehyung is serious. “What; looking for some inspiration yourself?”

The younger boy ignores the jibe, getting up off the floor to steal the remote, going to the internet browser on the SmartTV function.

Jin lets out a laugh hearty enough to jostle Hoseok as he watches Taehyung type each key painstakingly.

bb|

bba|

b-

ba|

bag|

ba-

ban|

“Is the porn meant to be you edging us?” the eldest retorts.

“Shut up, hyung,” Tae answers without looking away from the television, finally clicking the button to load the site.

bangasm.com

“Ah, you reckon we’d get sued if we used some other porn website instead?” Jin jokes. “Afraid of getting kicked off the show for jacking off to PornHub?”

“Shut up, hyung,” Taehyung repeats insistently, navigating to the search bar of the familiar site. He types more carefully this time, brow furrowed and lip pinched between his teeth in focus. “He goes live on a different site, but cross-uploads all his videos here too.”

g|

gu|

gukk|

gukke|

gukked|

gukked97. ENTER.

“Taehyung…” Yoongi starts slowly, uncrossing his legs to lean forward. “We shouldn’t be watching his stuff without him here.”

Once the page loads, and Taehyung clicks on the first result, your breath catches.

Earlier that morning, when Jungkook had gone down on you in the kitchen, he’d still been fully dressed, and so far he’d been wearing exclusively sweatpants and hoodies in the house.

Here, though, he’s bared to you in 1080p quality, countless thumbnails of him filling the page in rows and rows, each one a week apart.

In most, he has a hand around his cock, usually leaning back on his bed with his head tipped back in pleasure. His cock appears a bit smaller than Jin’s, but it fits in his hand so beautifully, arching in a gentle curve so that the head taps at his lower abdomen, which is defined in hard lines, revealing the muscular body of a gym bunny. Considering it was only the second day and he was already working out, it seemed his physical condition was important to him.

The thought of you all sitting and stalking his account while he’s in the room down the hall, unawares, has you biting your lip in guilt, but as Taehyung keeps scrolling, seemingly searching for something specific, you can’t help but glue your eyes to the TV.

While most of the thumbnails are him jerking off, in various states of desperation, if you watch carefully you can catch flashes of colour.

Jungkook with bright spots of red wax over his chest, a second figure visible only as a torso beside his lying body. Jungkook in a bathroom, filmed in the shower as he holds the detachable head to his cock. Jungkook in pink thigh-high stockings, holding his cock in sweater paws. Jungkook bending a girl over a table, holding her green scarf like it’s a leash and thrusting into her.

Seeing him in so many different scenarios has your mouth watering, and you shift in your seat minutely, hoping nobody notices the attempt to receive some friction.

The other protests have died down, too, and you watch Hoseok sit up suddenly, turning to give Jin’s crotch a bewildered look, before tucking his own legs up and folding his arms across his lap.

Beside you, Yoongi’s eyes are dark, mouth slightly parted and lips shiny from where he’d licked at them.

“Let me just find my favorite,” Taehyung says to break the silence, clearly the most unaffected of you. The dates change, going back to earlier vids, until he lands on a video, dated 30 December 2018. “Picture this: I’d been a shitty mood all day. It was my birthday, but I’d been stuck at the mall all day because my grandma wanted to buy a cell phone and she-”

“How is this at all relevant?” Yoongi interrupts impatiently.

Jin snickers. “You just want him to hurry up and play the video, don’t you?”

“So what if I do?” Yoongi complains mulishly.

You look back over at the TV, partially covered by Taehyung’s frame. The thumbnail, selected with a yellow frame, seems relatively innocuous at first, the side profile of Jungkook on a couch, what looks like a gaming controller in his hands. The title of the video is pretty tame too, ‘ready player one ;)’, but that’s when you notice the hand on his thigh, coming from behind the camera.

Taehyung clicks on the video, settling back onto the floor in front of Jin and Hoseok as he waits for it to load, scrolling through almost twenty minutes of Jungkook chatting to the camera, eyes darting down to read comments, looking entirely at-home. It’s clear to you that the camera is hand-held, and every now and again Jungkook looks up past the lens, listening to something the person holding the camera is saying.

“The point is,” the younger man explains as he fast-forwards, “Jungkook uploaded this on my birthday and the guy sou- oh, here we go - sounds like me.”

There’s a weird energy in the room once Taehyung resumes playing the video. It seems wrong to have it playing out loud on the television, like you were breaking some taboo, but at the same time, nobody wanted to protest. In the video, Jungkook’s wearing a baggy white t-shirt and some loose black shorts, something that clearly he was most comfortable in judging by what you’d seen him in the past few days. If you strain, you can still hear him working out down the hall, and everything feels a little too real, the memory of him between your thighs making you shiver.

Taehyung’s skipped a long way into the stream, the wide palm of the cameraman having slid up from Jungkook’s thigh to be palming his crotch directly, and his voice comes as a low murmur into the room, the volume on the television turned down.

“…for me? Keep playing your game, baby boy, you only get to cum once you win.” Taehyung is right; the voice is starkly similar to his, that same musical resonance in a deep timbre. You think Taehyung’s is nicer; still, the idea of Taehyung being behind that camera is affecting you just as much as it’s affecting the rest of the men in the room.

Everyone’s gone deadly silent, Yoongi making no barbed remarks, Jin without a quip. It’s clear from the way Jungkook writhes that the man is pressing him with a decent amount of force, but his strangled moans prove he’s loving it, hands wavering as they smash at the buttons, the noise from the video game sounding even more faint.

The man behind the camera doesn’t seem too interested in playing fair. Just as Jungkook bites down hard on his lip, panting but managing to focus, the tanned hand slips under the waistband of his shorts, not pulling his cock out but rather jerking him from beneath the fabric, making the boy shudder, a broken moan louder than any sound before.

As you watch, you have the urge to press a hand to yourself, wanting to relieve some friction, but instead you just clench hard, rubbing your thighs together. Yoongi glances over when you move, his pink lips parted, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat like he’s parched. It shocks you to see him so affected by the video, eyes hazed over with lust and fingers clutching at the fabric of the couch. On the opposite side, the other three men are in similar predicaments, Hoseok looking calm but clearly aroused, Jin bright red as he palms himself almost unconsciously, and Taehyung with a dreamy smile on his face, breaths shallow.

The Jungkook on screen lets out a frustrated whine when he loses the game, letting the controller hang limply on his thighs. His head lolls to the side, making eye contact with the recorder before lowering his gaze to stare pleadingly down the lens, and you hear Yoongi hiss a breath in the moment their gazes connect through the screen, Jungkook staring out into the audience with blown irises and bottom lip red from being bitten.

“You lost again, hm?” the voice calls out, dripping with mock sympathy. Jungkook swallows and nods, hips shifting against the hand that’s now stilled between his legs. A chuckle echoes from behind the camera. “Your viewers are telling me they want to see you cum, baby boy. Play one more round. Don’t disappoint us.”

Jungkook whines, but obediently sets up another game, sitting up and furrowing his brow to focus. Slipping out of Jungkook’s shorts, the hand instead pushes down the elastic waistband, freeing his cock. Jungkook sighs throatily at the open air on his length, a glossy bead of precum running down the side, collected by a single finger.

“Should I go easy on him, guys?” The voice pauses for a minute, trailing a single fingertip up and down the underside of Jungkook’s cock as the boy pants and tries to stay focused on the game. A bemused hum comes from behind the camera. “It’s your lucky day, baby boy. Taebybaby says you should get to cum because it’s his birthday today.”

Taehyung’s face splits in a boxy grin, eyes crinkling as he jabs a finger towards the television, where the on-screen Jungkook sighs in relief, wishing the user a happy birthday. “That’s me!” he calls out, turning around to stare accusingly at Yoongi. “See? The background context was important.”

On the television, Jungkook’s given up on the game, controller tossed to the side and head thrown back as the hand wraps around him, using the slick of his precum to jerk him off rapidly, clearly wanting to draw a quick orgasm out of the boy.

It’s pure sin, the way his thighs tense and the sliver of stomach where his shirt has ridden up flexes, hips jerking and moans pouring out of him in a constant, wanton stream.

“Are you serious?” Jungkook says calmly, and you frown, before realising it’s not the Jungkook on the screen that’s spoken.

Whirling around, you see the real Jungkook leaning against the doorway, shirt clinging with sweat and a towel slung over his shoulders. “My own viewing party and I wasn’t invited.”

“I’m so sorry,” Taehyung gushes with wide eyes, wincing as the volume from the TV increases, the toned body jerking as streaks of cum are milked from his cock, running down the hand of the cameraman. Taehyung fumbles for the remote as the on-screen Jungkook cries in pleasure, turning the TV off completely with shaky hands. “We weren’t- It just- We were just watching,” Taehyung finishes. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook holds a hard stare for a few agonising moments, before breaking into a hearty chuckle. “Hey, I put them on the internet for everyone to see, people watching is the whole point. I hope you all enjoyed the show.” He grimaces. “That was such an old one though. Scoot over, Y/n; I’ll find you all a good one.”

You choke on air with the mention of your name, still feeling like you’d been caught red-handed. Or, red-cheeked rather. You blush violently as you stand up on shaky legs. There’s no way, if he played another video, that you would be able to resist the urge to slip a hand down your shorts, and you’d gotten off in public enough for one day. “I, uh, need to go water my plants,” you stammer, “I almost forgot. Y-You guys go ahead.”

Not wanting to wait for Jungkook’s reaction, you rush past him, feeling his hands attempting to hold you for a moment, before giving up when you don’t stop.

So flustered from the situation you’d just run from, you stumble up the stairs blindly, not noticing the figure that opens his door at the same time, watching in curiosity as you rush into your bedroom and slam your door shut, collapsing on your bed with a groan.

—-

“Where have you been all day?” you ask conversationally as Namjoon takes a seat next to you with his bowl of fried rice.

“Out and about,” he answers loftily, avoiding your gaze. The two of you are sitting in the private, unfilmed lounge across the stairs. It’s strange; you’ve only been here two days but the constant presence of cameras has become so easy to grow accustomed to that in this room, it feels weirdly empty and stagnant. Still, there’s a relief in feeling like you have a break from being watched.

“Out and about,” you repeat, unconvinced, “you know we aren’t allowed to leave the property, right?”

Namjoon smiles down at his food. “The gardens are really gorgeous. I went to explore for a bit and ended up staying outside to soak up the sun and the nature.”

You bite your lip. He’d been the one that had suggested the two of you go eat in this room. “Struggling with the cameras, still?”

He looks up, finally, eyes crinkled with a rueful smile. “I guess I still feel a little silly to be here. I know my whole thing is that I’m inexperienced, but… Really feels like I’m doomed to fail here.”

You put your spoon down slowly. “Namjoon… Experience isn’t the only thing that matters, you know? I’m not gonna vote you out immediately just because you can’t, I don’t know, fuck me while doing a cartwheel or some shit like that. I said the other night that all of you as people are important too. Don’t distance yourself just because you’re worried about going home.”

He nods slowly, though he doesn’t seem entirely comforted. “I still only have a one-in-seven chance of winning this thing.”

“So do the rest of them,” you point out, gesturing back the way you came. “And if you like to run the numbers, you have a higher chance of staying than being sent home every week except the last.” You push your food aside, scooting around to sit beside Namjoon instead of across from him. “Honestly, Namjoon. I’m saying this away from all the cameras so you know I really mean it, but if you wanna stay, give me a chance to get to know you. Stick around.”

His chin protrudes as he tenses his jaw, deep in thought. “Y/n… Can I do something honestly too? Away from the cameras so you know I really mean it?”

“Of course,” you reply automatically, eyes widening when a broad palm comes out to hold onto yours.

Without another word, Namjoon just leans closer, the feeling of his breath on your face preceding the soft press of his lips on yours.

Namjoon kisses much like he acts; tentative, uncertain, and a little clumsily, but endearingly so. You find yourself entranced in the reverential way he does it, a series of tiny butterfly touches instead of the deep sensual frenching you’d been exposed to in the past. It’s chaste but meaningful, and when he draws back, his cheeks are pinker than his lips, coughing lightly in embarrassment.

“Namjoon,” you whisper into the quiet of the room, no words coming to mind except his name.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a laugh. “You probably think it’s stupid. Of course the virgin would get a crush on the girl first.”

“A crush?” you question. “Namjoon, we’ve known each other for two days.”

You meant to be lightly jesting, but his face crumples, laughing again in self-deprecation. “It’s stupid,” he repeats, clearing his bowl off the table and standing up. “Sorry, just- ignore I said that.”

“Namjoon, that wasn’t what I-”

You’re interrupted by the solid finality of the door slamming shut behind him.

Chapter Text

You wake up with a pounding headache, faint whispers of a nightmare with long shadows and wounded glares, a familiar face wracked with hurt.

Your heart thuds sickly in your chest as you fumble for the phone on your nightstand, wincing at the sharp light of the screen. Earlier than you would have liked, but you need reassurance of the conversation you’d had the night before.

Not the one in the rec room - you still grimace at the thought of how badly you handled it - but the text conversation held much later, one that had eased your worries then. You hoped it could still provide that relief now that guilt was pooling up inside you again.

When starting the show, you’d been given everybody’s phone numbers but hadn’t really needed to use them. So late last night it had come as a shock to you when your phone buzzed, lighting up with Kim Namjoon on the screen.

Part of you had been worried that he was going to yell at you or be crying on the other end. Biting at your nail, you’d let it go through to voicemail. Less than a minute after your screen went dark again, leaving you in shadow, regret had seized you, and you’d rushed to pull up his contact, sending a text. You look over it now.

> namjoon?

| Are you mad at me?

> what?? no, i thought u were mad at me : (
I tried to call to apologise. I crossed a line and made things weird.
> nonono u dont have to apologise!! i reacted v badly
> and i dont want u to think that it means i dont like u
> i was just surprised

| *surprised
| Sorry. That wasn't helpful.
| But I do want to apologise.
| Irrelevant of how I feel, there was no reason for me to spring it on you now. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.

 

| ...Please say something

> oh sorry! i was waiting for u to finish
> but like... lets be real this is a very weird situation for all of us
> i dont think theres a protocol for how we r meant to be dealing w it you know?
> so dont sweat it
> pls dont feel bad

| Okay.
| Thank you.

> i could come down and suck ur dick if it would cheer u up?
> if u want o.o

 

> namjoon?
> are you there?

| You can't just spring that on me! I have to go deal with something...

> oh? so sad ur doing it alone :<
> ill get u sometime this week namjoonie dw
> goodnight xxxx

| Goodnight xx
| And please don't feel guilty! Let's call it even. If you need me tomorrow, I'll probably be going for a walk outside again. It's sunny until Thursday but raining all weekend so I want to enjoy it while I can.

> for someone whos meant to be jacking off rn ur sure doing a lot of talking o.0

He hadn’t replied after that, so instead you send him a quick good morning text now before getting up out of bed.

When you get ready and go downstairs, anxiety easing once more, you see that true to his word, Namjoon’s outside walking again.

If any of the other guys know it’s your fault, they don’t say anything, Yoongi silently smiling in greeting from where he sits at the kitchen bench, hunched over a cup of coffee like it’s a lifeline, scrolling on his phone.

“Morning,” you say with a yawn, gravitating towards the still-steaming electric jug. Past Yoongi, the sight you’re greeted by in the adjacent lounge area gives you pause.

Completely unawares to your entrance, several figures gather around the coffee table, where Hoseok is sitting with eyes closed and mouth hung open, moaning pornographically at the hands that expertly dig into him, massaging his muscles.

Behind him, Taehyung’s dressed in nothing but black boxers and a rosy silk robe, brows furrowed in focus and lips twitching with satisfaction as he rolls his thumbs between Hoseok’s shoulder blades, kneading out the tension.

Yoongi sighs. “They’ve been doing it for over an hour. Hoseok’s only the second person to get a go and Seokjin and I are still waiting. Taehyung just finished Jungkook, that’s why he looks dead.”

True to word, Jungkook’s body is splayed out on the couch beside the action, boneless like a corpse, eyes lidded and hair in a tangled nest. Yoongi calls out to him to confirm he’s still alive, receiving a wordless grunt in response.

“He’s fine,” Yoongi decides. “Do you want a go? Lady of the house, I bet you could skip the line.”

“I think I’d rather check how long it takes Jungkook to recover. I can’t be out of commission for the whole day.”

Yoongi hums thoughtfully, finishing off his coffee. “I guess Jungkook can now that he’s done his prompt. Not really much else for him to do except wait to see if he’s staying or not.” He bites his lip for a minute, jaw working as he mulls it over. “Do you have any thoughts so far? About who’s maybe going, who’s definitely staying?”

You shrug. “Seems pointless to consider before you guys have all finished, you know? Either way the decision is going to suck. I’d rather just enjoy myself for now.”

Yoongi pauses while a moaned curse fills the room, Taehyung’s elbow now running down Hoseok’s spine as he bends over, hands splayed on the table to keep himself steady. The older man huffs out a laugh at their antics. “Hoseok really doesn’t seem bothered, huh? I don’t think I’ve seen him trying to put the moves on you once.”

You grin, side-eying him. “What; have you been watching me? But no, he hasn’t, really. I’m glad to see them comfortable to be here, you know? This could have easily been so awkward for all of us.”

Yoongi hums in thought, nodding eventually. “That’s true. It’s a good bunch of guys they’ve managed to pick.”

“You included,” you add with a nudge to his shoulder. “You aren’t going to whip it out in the middle of the kitchen and get your turn over and done with?”

“Are you wanting me to?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in contained surprise. “But no; I’m still mulling mine over. Seeing what the others do, what you like. I’m patient.” You stare at him, eyes searching for any signs of deception, but he seems genuine. He turns to you with a droll look and jerks his chin towards the lounge. “Taehyungie on the other hand looks like he’s warming up for the main event.”

“Does he now?” you murmur under your breath, looking over to the lounge area, where Hoseok has replaced Jungkook for most boneless contestant, spread-eagle on the carpet and sighing happily. Seokjin’s now under Taehyung’s grasp, lips not stopping for a second as he instructs Taehyung on where exactly to press and how hard. Taehyung, however, has his eyes on you, and a bolt of shock runs through you when your gazes connect.

“Come on over,” Taehyung calls out with an inviting smile. “Seokjin-hyung is almost finished.”

“Hey, you brat, you only just sta-ow!”

Jin jumps like he’s been shocked, rubbing at the base of his neck with an expression like a wounded puppy.

“There,” Taehyung announces firmly, “finished. Y/n, come over!”

Yoongi pushes you closer with a fond shove. “Go get ‘em, tiger. Preferably in a different location to me.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” you quip in a singsong voice.

“Oh, when it comes to it, I won’t be the one begging,” he answers casually.

You falter, open-mouthed, but Yoongi has already turned back to his phone, the faintest hint of a smirk still tugging at his lips.

Going over to the couches, you step over Hoseok’s splayed-out limbs and throw Jin an apologetic smile. The oldest contestant joins Jungkook on the couch, chatting in a low murmur with the blissed-out boy.

Taehyung waves for you to sit down on the coffee table, and you do, eying up the collection of suspicious and rather wet-looking bottles just beside you.

“Pick your poison,” Taehyung chimes when he sees your dubious glance. “Massage oils. There’s lavender, jasmine, eucalytpus and spearmint, almond oil, calendula and coconut oil - that one doubles up as lube - and jojoba oil.”

You blink, feeling overwhelmed. “Uh… What did the others use?”

“Hoseok got almond oil, Seokjin had the jojoba one, and Jungkook asked for the lubey one.”

“Of course he did,” you murmur. “I’ll have the jasmine one, if that’s okay?”

Though Taehyung seems a little disappointed at your choice, he wipes the oil on his hands off on his pants, leaving glossy smears on the soft black fabric, and reaches for the appropriate bottle. He’s dressed comfortably, just loose black cotton pants and an equally baggy tee, faded green. The thick curls of his hair still hang in his eyes, but it doesn’t seem to bother him as he cracks the lid of the bottle, pouring a generous amount of thin oil in his palm. “You’ll have to take your shirt off,” he points out, capping the bottle again.

You frown, looking over at the other guys around the room. “They didn’t take their shirts off.”

“Hoseok pushes down his sleeves, Jungkook did actually take off his shirt, he just put it back on once he was done, and Seokjin’s- Seokjin had a speedy massage.”

“Speedy, my ass,” Seokjin complains from on the couch, jostling the black-haired boy who’s fallen asleep on his shoulder.

Ignoring him, Taehyung warms the oil between his hands slowly. The sight of glistening skin, thick drops running down his forearms where he’d poured a bit too much, and the lidded look in his eyes has you obeying, and you awkwardly slip out of your shirt, balling it up and holding the fabric in your lap.

Taehyung hums in approval, stepping up behind you and nudging you into position with the backs of his hands, knuckles pressing against the bare skin of your shoulders. You feel awkward, sitting in the middle of a room of guys in your bra, but you suppose it’s probably good practice considering the show you’re on. At least you still had-

“Could you push the straps down?” Taehyung’s voice asks lowly from behind you, already slipping into a sensual drawl, the one he must be used to putting on for clients. “We’ll start with a shoulder massage.”

Great. With an unsteady breath, you shuffle them down one at a time, jumping when warm, slippery hands rest on your bare skin.

“Relax,” he coos, and the more he speaks the more you forget your surroundings, the other people there. “Can you close your eyes for me?” You nod, not trusting your voice. After your eyes have slipped shut, you hear him again, his voice like an anchor in a black, hazy ocean. “Take a big breath in for me. Good, and exhale. That’s it.”

Somewhere to your right, Jin pipes up. “I didn’t get this special treatment,” he points out with a petulant whine.

As his hands run up and down your upper arms and shoulders, spreading the oil, Taehyung doesn’t miss a beat. “If you don’t shut up, Seokjin-hyung,” he responds in that same sweet and husky tone, “the only treatment you’ll be getting is medical.”

Jin huffs, but leaves it at that, murmuring something you can’t quite pick up. As you shiver at the feeling of Taehyung’s smooth hands on you, dipping in front to lightly coat your collarbones and sternum, you hear what’s undoubtedly the muffled groan of Jungkook waking up. After that, a thud, an oof and three sets of footsteps patter away into the distance.

From further away, another voice, this time Yoongi. “I’m assuming I won’t be getting my massage, then?”

“Another time,” Taehyung calls out, the slightest hint of irritation. “You guys aren’t even paying me.”

The ceramic scrape of a coffee mug being placed in the sink and Yoongi leaves too, the only sound in the room Taehyung’s rich voice, smooth and velvety in your ear.

“Anyways, where were we?”

You crack a smile, eyes still closed. “I’ll give you another week’s accommodation here if you give me a good massage. Is that payment enough?”

He hums at that, almost like a purr. Slowly, you feel the gliding swoops of his fingers begin to slow, spots of pressure as his thumbs begin to deftly seek out any tension. “Is that so?” As his fingers dig in to the taut muscle just behind your shoulders, you feel yourself sigh, mouth falling slack. “I have to say, the coffee table isn’t the best place for a massage. I’d be able to give a better service if we relocate-”

You fight a moan as he targets a spot just to the right of your upper spine, pleasure rushing through your body at such a simple touch. “If you take your hands off me for a fucking second I’m kicking you out right now.” Though your voice is lofty with relaxation, the threat is there, and Taehyung presses deeper, triggering a cut-off moan that falls from your lips unbidden.

“Noted,” he says simply. “Eyes still closed?” At your subtle nod, he continues. “I want you to picture a meadow. Green grass, gentle sun. You can smell the flowers that bloom around you, carried by a gentle wind.”

With every word, and the nimble circling of his thumbs easing the knots of tension, you feel yourself unravelling. No longer is the floral perfume from the oil, but instead from petals of every colour, rising up between blades of soft grass. No longer is the cool moving air on your skin from the air conditioner, but a natural breeze that lifts your spirits. Through it all, his hands and his voice encompass you in a cocoon of bliss, head lolled back with the depth of it.

“It’s just the two of us in the meadow. We’re alone here. No responsibilities or deadlines or worries. We can be at peace.” You gasp, core clenching as his hands lift slightly, sliding over your oiled skin to wrap around your neck. But instead of applying pressure to your throat, his fingers find the nape of your neck, stimulating the muscles at the base of your scalp before they snake upwards through your hair, bold circles and decisive lines that have you sinking deeper into a blissful abyss, textured grass of the meadow in your mind morphing into soft sheets, the sun a warm blanket and Taehyung’s hands on yours not in your hair but drifting lower, lower…

You let out a strangled moan when you realise his hands moving downwards isn’t just in your dream, but in delicious reality.

“Shall we take this off?” his honeyed voice questions in a murmur, and it takes your fuzzy mind a moment or two to connect his voice to the feeling of a finger tugging at the strap of your bra where it meets the cup, his knuckles brushing against the swell of your breast.

Unable to form words, you nod breathlessly, eyes still clenched shut in pleasure.

Rather than remove it completely, Taehyung pushes the cups down, exposing you to the cool air. You hiss at the feeling on your peaked nipples, panting as his hands sweep down, pressing the flesh on either side of your breasts and cupping them in his hands. He must have stepped forward at some point, because you become aware of the way your back is tucked against his front, head at the level of his lower chest, and a distinctly recognisable hardness pressed to the middle of your spine.

The knowledge that he’s getting off on this awakes your nerves even more, and when you feel his fingers come in, rolling your nipples just hard enough to feel, it’s electric. You moan, sucking in gasps of air, his hands rising and falling with every shallow breath.

When Taehyung speaks again, his voice has changed; a little darker, fuller. “But you don’t want to be in a meadow, do you? I bet you wish you were splayed out on a bed, feeling my hands all over you, touching you, teasing you, fucking you. Because my hands aren’t the only thing you want, hm?” Your mouth never closes, an unending stream of moans and whimpers filling the air as he grinds himself slightly against you, hands slowly building up more pressure until he’s kneading your breasts and tugging roughly at your sensitive peaks. You realise now why he stepped forward; you’re pinned between him and his hands, writhing but unable to shake off the intense pleasure, though you wouldn’t want to. He keeps you close as he bends down, hooking a leg over the coffee table so that he’s sitting behind you, slipping his arms under yours to continue flicking and scraping your nipples, a new sensation of his teeth on your right earlobe joining the fray. You rock your hips, unable to find an angle that gives you any friction.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” Taehyung purrs in your ear, evoking a throaty groan in response. “Look at you, grinding at the table. I bet your pussy feels neglected, hm? Must be so wet for me and yet I won’t touch it. I’ll make you cum from this alone, make you soak your panties just from my hands on your perfect tits, how about that?”

“Please,” you whimper, feeling a high begin to build inside you, but one deeper than you’ve ever felt before, coming from a new source.

Taehyung’s fingers speed up, merciless as they wreck you, your nipples on fire even as they sing out in pleasure. He growls in satisfaction as you pant out his name. “That’s it. You filthy little thing; getting off to this. Are you going to cum for us?”

You suck in a breath, brows furrowing. Us? As your climax draws unbearably close, you force your eyes open, keening when a cool gaze greets you, the lazy smile and unruffled appearance of Jimin, watching you from the couch.

The sight of him, so calm and collected, fully dressed in his usual formal attire compared to your half-naked debauchery, sends you over the edge unable to break his gaze as your thighs shoot together like you’ve been shocked, trembling with the force of your orgasm, Taehyung’s fingers not letting up as he purrs sweet nothings into your ear, flooding your body with inescapable pleasure.

Jimin watches you intently as you fall apart in front of him, one leg crossed over the other and champagne silk shirt making his eyes seem even blacker in comparison. Though you’d been on camera the past two times you’d engaged in anything sexual, his gaze on you makes you cum harder than you ever have before, his unique quality of making you feel studied, analysed for every minute reaction.

Once you finally come down from your high, thighs shaking as they grind together and core throbbing, Taehyung takes your weight, letting you lean back against him. You tremble as he uncaps the bottle again, this time pouring a glossy streak directly on top of your breasts, the feeling of the cool liquid on your heated skin making you whimper and look down. Finally breaking Jimin’s gaze, you watch Taehyung’s hands collect the oil, massaging it gently over the tender skin, shushing you softly when you hiss and jump in oversensitivity.

As you gasp for air, the rest of your energy leaves you. Your head lolls back over Taehyung’s shoulder weakly, and you sigh as he presses a single soft kiss, right at the base of your neck, past your collarbone.

“Show’s over,” he says in a low tone, the melodious flow replaced by his usual voice. It takes you a moment of confusion to realise that he isn’t talking to you, but to Jimin.

You watch bleary-eyed as the blue-haired man stands up, smoothing out his pants before he steps up to the two of you. You go still in anticipation of him touching you, his eyes heavy as they run up and down your half-naked figure.

A single hand reaches out, fingers laden with silver, and you swear you don’t even breathe. Rather than your breasts or your face, however, his fingers find your throat, tightening just slightly as he watches you intently, head cocked to the side.

You can feel the cold metal of his rings digging into your throat, and when he applies enough pressure to restrict your airflow slightly, you let out a thin whimper, hips rocking against the table.

With a cat-like grin, he takes his hand away quicker than it came, stepping back. “Thought so,” he surmises with a lilt of satisfaction. His eyes lift up past you, to Taehyung. “Good show.”

Before your mind catches up to what just happened, he’s gone, the creak of the stairs the only sign that he was ever there.

You try to catch your breath, sitting up as your vision blurs for a moment, still feeling blissed out from the massage and orgasm. “Holy shit,” you make out, “what the fuck just happened?”

Taehyung gets up off the table but reaches a hand out to steady you, still slippery with oil on your shoulder. “A good show, apparently,” he quips, “though if you let me take you upstairs I can give you an even better one.”

Your hair must be a mess, your panties are sticking to you uncomfortably with the evidence of your orgasm, and your bra is still shoved halfway down your chest, but you take one look at the need in his eyes and the tent in his pants and you’re nodding. “Please, Tae. I need you.”

His eyes fall shut for a moment, like he’s savouring the comment, before he opens them again and fixes them on you. “Let’s go clean you up. And then we can make an even bigger mess.” He grabs the coconut oil, the one that he’d proudly declared had doubled as lube, and flicks you a wink.

Still with shaky legs, you slip your bra back on properly, wincing at the fabric over your sensitive nippes, and hastily slip on your shirt as you follow him up. “My bathroom?” you offer, knowing full well it would be bigger than his.

In front of you, making his way to the foot of the stairs, Taehyung pauses. “…Yeah,” he answers after a moment, “I think that counts.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, but let it slide, content to watch the outline of his ass in the thin cotton as he climbs the stairs. At the top, he turns right and makes his way to your room, opening the door with a bounce in his step.

Once inside, he beelines for the bathroom and curses lowly under his breath in awe. “This is huge,” he gushes. “A shower and a tub?” You watch in bemusement as he whirls around with a boxy grin on his face. “Can we have a bath, Y/n? With bubbles?”

His innocent glee combined with the fact that he was still rock hard in his pants makes you laugh. “Okay, sure, we can do that.” You make your way to the jacuzzi, but just as you’re reaching for the faucet, Taehyung stops you with a tug on your shirt.

“Not now,” he whines. “We haven’t had fun yet. C’mere.”

You let his grip on your shirt pull you back to him, enough momentum for him to dip his head and join his mouth to yours, the hand that grabbed at your shirt snaking around your waist to hold you close, your still-sensitive chest pressed against his. He kisses much like his massage; thorough, not holding back. His tongue runs over the seam of your lips hungrily, making you gasp, and he takes your parted lips as an invitation to devour you further, your head rocking back and force slightly with the depth of his motions. His free hand finds your hair again, winding it in his hand, tugging just enough to draw a moan from you, grinding against the hardness in pants.

“Taehyung,” you gasp as his teeth find your lower lip, nipping teasingly. “Please, I need you.”

He hums against you, licking into your mouth hungrily for one, two, three more moments before he pulls back, chest heaving. His eyes are like two points of black fire, burning into you from behind curls of hair, and the desire in his gaze has you breathless. “I’m gonna make you feel good,” he promises, ducking down to steal one last chaste kiss before he releases you, stepping away to grab a towel from the rack. It’s the same thick white kind of an expensive hotel’s, and he shakes it out, laying it on the floor. Grabbing another one but leaving it folded, he places it at the head of the towel, the side closest to the bathtub. “Let’s get these clothes off,” he guides with a husky voice.

You let him undress you, urgent but not rushed, placing every article of clothing on top of the vanity. You stand, breath hitching as he unhooks your bra, crowning each reddened nipple with a soft, reverent kiss. He kneels to undo the button of your jeans, sliding them and your panties down so smoothly that you don’t have time to be self-conscious before you’re naked. His fingers wind into yours, pulling you down and helping you lie down on your back. Your head is resting on the folded towel, and the feeling of the slightly rough fibres against your back, butt, and calves has you shivering.

“You just relax,” Taehyung murmurs from above you, running a comforting hand up and down your thigh as he kneels and uncaps the bottle of oil with one hand. You bite your lip, looking down your body to where he settles between your legs, spreading them. “Fuck, look at your perfect little pussy,” he swears. “So wet. Should we make it even wetter?”

You swallow and nod, gasping when he turns the bottle upside down, and a stream of glossy oil, slightly thicker than the other one, stripes across your lower abdomen in a broad arc. Taehyung looks so in his element as he caps the bottle and sets it beside him, palms flat as he collects the oil and spreads it, tongue peeking out of his lips in focus.

Due to being in the state of unbelievably turned on, even the feeling of his fingers slipping down the creases of your thighs has your muscles jumping, a jump as he skims past your core.

“Shh,” he soothes, voice dipping back into that sensual chant, “I’ve got you. Just relax. You can close your eyes if you want.”

But you shake your head. For now, you want to look up at him knelt between your legs, the shine of his elegant hands soaked in oils as they run over your inner thighs, stomach and mons pubis, avoiding where he knows you need him most. “It’s not fair,” you mumble, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. “I’m naked, and you’re still fully dressed.”

He scoffs softly, barely more than a puff of air, but pulls back to lift his shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly away. One of the more tanned men in the house, he’s a bronzed god, hard chest and soft stomach, biceps flexing with every nimble movement as his hands return to your quickly heating body. “Better?”

“Better,” you answer with a pleased smile, eyes roaming over the smooth lines and shallow curves, the dusky brown of his nipples and the trail of baby hairs that lead below his bellybutton to the waistband of his pants, the elastic worn enough to hang low on his hips.

You let out a throaty sound of dissatisfaction as he continues to pass around your dripping core, rocking your hips up with a pout. “Tae,” you whine, spreading your legs further apart. “Don’t tease.”

“But you look so beautiful when you’re needy,” Taehyung retorts with a smirk.

Just as you’re about to protest, though, you feel a single finger slip down between your folds, rubbing against your clit. You moan openly at the sudden pleasure.

“Oh that’s it, you’re so gorgeous,” the masseuse praises, his own chest hitching just from watching your reactions.

You groan, rocking your hips at that single finger as it simply runs straight up and down at a glacial pace.

“So needy, petal,” he gushes, voice velveteen, “was the orgasm I gave you downstairs not good enough, hm?”

You pout. “It was good, Tae.”

“Then why does my baby still want more?”

You pant, staring at him with pleading eyes. You don’t know what he wants to hear, all you can think of is his finger lazily running up and down your core and the smirk on his face.

That same smirk widens into a grin, not boxy like usual, but darker, slightly asymmetrical. “Maybe you’re just greedy, petal. Are you greedy, baby?”

You whine, legs tightening on either side of his waist. “I’m greedy, Tae, please just give it to me.”

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, leaning over you to capture your mouth again, hot and needy as you finally feel his finger circling your entrance before plunging in in one slick thrust, curling inside you so that you moan into his mouth, keening underneath the pressure of his body on yours.

“Tae, fuck!” you cry as he pulls out to slip a second finger in, immediately crooking and curling them inside you like he’s giving you a massage from inside. The thought has you shuddering, letting his mouth, his lips, his tongue swallow your moans of pleasure.

The sounds of his fingers as they fuck into you fill the room, and there’s no way of telling what is oil and what is your own arousal, wetter between your legs than you’ve ever been before.

Expertly, his thumb finds your clit at the same time that he moves up to three fingers inside of you, and you cry out at the added sensation, falling apart under his trained touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” Taehyung pants in between passionate kisses, licking the inside of your mouth like it’s oxygen. “I wanna feel you cum for me again, petal, can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” you make out, voice breaking as his fingers speed up. You can’t stop moving, hips rolling and back trying to arch even as his body cages you down to the floor, mouth slack as he takes what he wants from your body, surrendered willingly.

He’s so skilled with the hand between your legs that you don’t realise he still has one free until you feel fingers close around one of your raw nipples, rolling the bud mercilessly. You scream into his mouth as you cum, vocal cords vibrating violently, vision whiting and body convulsing, pitched to heights as his hands speeds up impossibly, stroking at your g-spot and rubbing your clit. “That’s it, you’re so perfect, give it to me, Y/n.”

You cry out again as his mouth leaves yours and instead ducks lower to nip at your neck, sucking a single point of colour at the base of your throat. Mouth now uncovered, your moans spill out unbidden, raising in pitch as the warm coil of pleasure turns sharp, your nerves overstimulated. “Fuh-fuck, too much,” you sob, weak hands pushing at his until he pulls out.

As you fight to catch your breath, still shivering with aftershocks, Taehyung sits up, hands running smoothly up and down your sides, one slick with oil and one slick with you, though your mind is too heavy with pleasure to work out which is which.

“You did so well, deep breaths, baby,” he guides in a voice like honey. It anchors you, brings your vision back and your mind back into your body. You blink, dazed, and stare up at him with an exhausted but satisfied smile. “There she is,” he chimes warmly, eyes appraising you like he’s proud of you. “Do you think you can cum one more time for me, petal? You’re doing so well.”

You let out a breathy. “Fuck. I don’t-”

“I can just clean you up and help you to bed if you don’t want to. I can take care of myself. You don’t have to.”

You bite your lip, gathering the energy it takes to lift your head off the towel, looking down to see him palming at his crotch just enough to relieve the pressure. Though you’re sure he wouldn’t hold it against you if you took him up on the offer, you can’t deny that you want to be the one to make him cum, not his own hand.

“No, I want to go again,” you decide, voice still quiet as your heart rate returns to normal. “But I’m still so sensitive.”

He hums in thought. “We have options. It didn’t say in your limit sheets that you were opposed to anal.” Your breath hitches and you find yourself nodding, wanting to feel him inside you so desperately. “Good? Okay then, petal, I’m going to need you to turn over so I can get you ready for me, yeah?”

He helps you up, guiding you onto your knees, facing away from him and gripping the edge of the bathtub for support.

“Is this okay?” he checks one last time, and you nod, arching your back in response. Taehyung chuckles, punctuated by the sound of a cap clicking open. “So you are my greedy girl.”

If there was a reply in your head, it dissolves the moment you feel a cold liquid running down your cheeks, cooling your heated core. You sigh, folding your arms on the edge of the bathtub and resting your head, eyes closing as the pressure of a single finger circles your ass, tight muscles fluttering at the contact.

“Relax for me,” the masseuse coos as he breaches you, sinking in easily with the aid of the oil even as you clench around the intrusion.

There’s something different about the pleasure like this. It feels deeper, primal, dirty as he slowly fucks into you, the tip of his finger crooking inside to ease your muscles.

You only realise that your hips are moving when he lays a forearm on your lower back, stilling you. You groan in frustration, but it just makes him laugh, pulling out of you to press in two fingers instead.

“Two orgasms and baby still wants more,” he muses, speeding up his fingers to make you whimper, moans catching in your throat with every thrust.

“Fuck, yes, I need you now, Tae,” you babble in a reedy voice, back arched under the pressure of his arm holding you steady. The room is filled with the smell of sex, but it’s lifted by the floral tones of the oils he’s used, and it makes your head spin, dizzy with arousal.

He pulls out his fingers, smacking your ass lightly. You wait with baited breath as he shucks his pants, letting them pool on the floor around his knees. You crane your head back to look at him, but he’s already pressing his head to your entrance, pausing to pour some more oil over his length before he’s snapping his hips and fucking into you, bottoming out on a single thrust.

The breath is punched out of your lungs, and your hands scramble to hold you steady against the edge of the bathtub as you cry out brokenly. “So full,” you moan, toes curling.

Taehyung lets out a throaty growl as he stays sheathed in you for a moment, grinding his hips against your ass as you adjust. “Oh, fuck,” he curses lowly. “So good, baby.”

After another moment, you feel him shift inside you, like he’s adjusting his stance. Reflexively, you grip onto the side of the bathtub, moments before he pulls out swiftly and thrusts back inside you, your whole body jerking with the force of it.

You let out a long moan, voice jumping every time his hips meet yours, shallow but quick strokes that have you drooling. With every slide of his cock inside you, so unbelievably slick with the excess massage oil, you feel yourself being fucked dumb, incoherent.

“Tae, Tae, yes, god, hngh, please Tae,” you chant thoughtlessly as he fills you over and over again.

His growls of response and the slap of skin-on-skin surrounds you, flooding your senses.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he warns, but you feel your own high building inside you, only needing a little more to send you over.

“Cum inside me,” you gasp, “please, fuck.”

He moans at that, not a low growl but a keening moan that’s followed by him speeding up inside you, a hand finding your clit and stroking roughly over it with four fingers, desperate.

Your third orgasm hits you like a train, rendering your whole body boneless as he chases his high, cursing when you begin to clench around him. Unlike the other two times, you don’t moan or cry out. Instead, the pleasure is so blinding that a single sound doesn’t come out at all, your eyes rolling in your head and your limbs going slack.

He spills inside you moments later, hands sliding up to massage your breasts as ropes of cum paint your insides.

When the two of you come down and he pulls out of you, you can’t feel your legs. He cleans you up with a towel soaked in warm water, but you’re so far gone that you barely feel it, content to let him manipulate your body, eventually picking you up, your vision swirling as the next thing you feel is a mattress below you and a blanket above. You mumble something, not even knowing what, and let the smooth motions of a hand rubbing your back soothe you into sleep.

Chapter Text

It’s dark when you wake up, still feeling slightly floaty. Beside you, Taehyung still snores away, naked bar for his pair of boxers and the sheets draped lazily over his torso. He looks peaceful, face angelic and chest rising and falling deeply. The sight of him almost makes you want to fall asleep then and there, but your throat is parched and your mouth is dry.

Perhaps sleeping the day away wasn’t wise, but still you dress in dim silence, padding down the stairs with bare feet and nothing more than Taehyung’s shirt - even more oversized on you - and a fresh pair of panties.

This is the first time you’ve really been out of your room at this hour, and you marvel at the enveloping stillness of the air. No lights, only the creeping moonlight to guide your way to the kitchen, eager to ease your dry mouth. The refrigerator light makes your eyes ache as you pull out a bottle of water, uncapping it with a sigh and leaning back against the countertop, gulping almost a third of it down before your brain starts to pang at the sudden cold.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at the sudden voice, glancing up to see the round, pale face of Min Yoongi peeking over the couch. In such deeply–set quiet, you feel the need to speak lowly, just enough for him to hear. “Just woke up, actually.”

He combs through the dyed honey blonde of his hair as his eyes narrow in disbelief. “Is that Taehyung’s shirt from this morning? So that’s where the two of you have been all day. You must’ve really gone at it like rabbits, it’s almost three in the morning.”

“Jesus,” you groan. “I must’ve been asleep more than 12 hours then. I feel like I’ve woken up from a coma or something, I swear.”

“That good, huh?” he says in a teasing tone as you take another sip of water.

“Go upstairs and see for yourself if you’re so curious,” you retort.

Yoongi stays silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is different. Softer. “Come sit.”

You obey silently, a little huff forced out of your lungs when you drop onto the couch beside him, cradling the bottle of water between your knees as you wait for him to say something, explain why he’d asked you over.

The blonde-haired man scoffs softly, nudging your shoulder. “Come on, I’m not telling you off or anything. If you want to go, you can go, but I thought you might like some company.”

The air is warmer here beside him. “I’ll stay,” you answer quietly.

“Three days,” he muses, his voice bringing colour to the dark room. “Why does it feel like weeks?”

You hum, unable to think of a reply that would comfort him. “What would you have been doing if you weren’t here right now?”

Yoongi’s legs are crossed, much like how Jimin always sits, but it gives off a far more casual vibe as he slumps, butt resting almost right on the edge of the cushion. “I’d probably still be up. I’d just be up alone.”

“Night owl?” you question, tucking one foot up under you so you can face him more.

“Lonely,” he answers simply, eyes focused on the table in front of him.

You don’t know what to say. Luckily, it seems like he’s not finished, but just taking a pause to collect his thoughts. You’ve been noticing that Yoongi seems like the type to mean every word he says, and consider each one carefully.

“I thought I was picking a career filled with people,” he elaborates, voice flickering low like a single flame. “I guess in some ways, both health practitioning and teaching are fairly sociable jobs. But I rarely see the same person twice. There was a time when I thought I preferred it like that. I’ve never been a social butterfly like some of the guys here. But after a few years, you just feel so hollowed out by it.”

You let his words sink in for a moment, head resting on the back of the couch. “And now?”

“Now?” he repeats with a frown.

“Are you still lonely now?”

He attempts a smile. “I can’t decide.”

You frown at his sullen tone. “We all love having you here, you know? Seokjin really appreciates your help in the kitchen, the two youngest both adore you, Namjoon respects you so much and I’m pretty sure Hoseok and Jimin would’ve had a catfight in the living room if it wasn’t for your level-headedness.”

Yoongi brightens a little bit, just enough for his lips to twitch, genuinely this time. Slowly, his eyes slide over to meet yours. “And you?”

You slip the tip of your tongue out enough to wet your lips. “I- If it’s okay, I’d rather show you my appreciation.”

His eyes are molten as they search your face for any signs of hesitation. When they find none, he uncrosses his legs, splaying them apart, and leans over to press lightly at your shoulder. “Lean back,” he instructs, the soft tone replaced with a casual roughness that he usually spoke with.

You swallow, letting the water bottle between your legs fall to the floor as you lie back, head resting against the arm of the couch.

Yoongi looks down at you, distaste flitting across his features. Your heart stops for a moment before he reaches out to tug at the hem of your baggy shirt. Tae‘s baggy shirt. “Take this off,” he orders with a grumble.

You ditch it hastily, wanting Yoongi’s hands on you, and shiver at the sudden cold, lying beneath him in nothing but your panties. “Yoongi,” you whisper, back arching as an incentive for him to touch you.

Reverently, a wide hand dips down, fingertips running over your shoulder, your bare chest and stomach, and back up to cup your breast, squeezing just enough to make you sigh, wanting more. As he fondles it, Yoongi adjusts his stance, hooking one leg between you and the back of the couch, propping himself up with his other arm so that he can lean down over you.

Rather than kissing you straight away, he watches your face with a look like hunger, drinking in your every reaction as his fingers slip up to pass over the stiffened peak, thumbing it so it continues to plump up.

You let out a breathy moan, tipping your chin up towards him. The hand on your breast slips up to cup your face, big enough that the tips of his fingers dip into your hair. It’s overwhelming; his legs on either side of you, and your face cradled in his tender grasp, bracketed between the back of the couch and his arm. Finally, his face lowers enough for his lips to brush yours, and your eyes slip closed in bliss.

This close, every breath is lined with his scent, rich yet tangy like mint and caramel, a juxtaposition that suits him perfectly. His lips on yours are like fine silk, brushing so lightly that you tremble at the intimacy of it. Every movement is painfully precise, languid. His fingers gently play with your hair like he can’t quite keep them still, but his lips take their time with you. The two of you are in your own world, alone to savour every delicate touch. No one else is awake, so you let the butterflies in your stomach grow and the flutter on your lips continue, hands wandering lower to where his shirt - a white tee with the letters FG stamped in black on the front - is slightly tucked into a pair of plaid boxer shorts. He sighs heavily onto your lips when your fingers first touch his skin, tracing a line just above the waistband.

“You have no idea,” he confesses in a hush, “how long I’ve waited to feel you.”

You gasp when his head dips lower, lips brushing your ear, your jaw, down your throat to press a trail of chaste kisses along the base of your throat, his tongue darting out to flick kitten licks over your pulse point. “Yoongi,” you sigh, “you don’t have to wait any longer.”

“Y/n?”

Yoongi groans at the distant voice that breaks the silence. “Please just ignore it,” he mutters under his breath. “He’ll be fine.”

You bite your lip, ears straining to work out where Taehyung’s voice came from. It sounds like he’s upstairs, the sound lofty.

There’s only a moment of silence, Yoongi nudging your jaw with his nose to tip it back again, kisses slightly more insistent down the column of your throat, before you hear a thud.

“Y/n?” Taehyung repeats, voice calling out slightly louder into the dark of the house. “Did you go downstairs?”

Yoongi lets out a rushed exhale. “Fuck.” Sitting up off of you, he reaches down to pass you Tae’s shirt off the floor. Yoongi’s jaw ticks as you put it back on. “Just tell him you’re busy.”

You send him a look, before stepping up and out into the kitchen, taking the water bottle with you. “Down here, Tae,” you reply. His response is given in the noisy thuds of him coming down the stairs, and soon enough his face pops around the corner, brightening when he sees you.

“I woke up alone,” he says with a playful pout, hands finding your waist to press your bodies together, rocking the two of you back and forth. “Come back to bed.”

You force yourself not to glance over at the couch, feeling strangely guilty. Instead, you smile at Taehyung. “We slept all day. I feel too awake now.”

“Then let’s try out your bath! I saw some bath bombs there. Or we can make bubbles?”

You think you hear a faint huff in the living room but you ignore it, letting yourself be anchored in the slow swaying, looking up at Taehyung. “I’m sorry, Tae, I’m not really in the mood. You can have one, if you want? I don’t mind.”

“But then that’s not…” You see the wheels turning in Taehyung’s head, an excited smile tugging at his lips. “Are you sure? Thank you, Y/n! Come join me if you want!”

He pulls away from you, and an odd stir of relief stirs in your chest. “Have fun,” you say weakly, and he ducks his head to press a kiss on your forehead before turning back the way he came, jumping noisily up the stairs.

In the living room, Yoongi’s head once again pops up over the back of the couch. “Coast is clear?” he questions in a joking tone, but you can’t muster a smile. Yoongi stands up, brows furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

You sink back against the counter, staring sullenly at the half-empty water bottle in your hands. “Why do I feel like an asshole, Yoongi?”

He’s beside you quicker than you expect, hands gently pressing under your jaw to lift your gaze up to his. “Hey, hey,” he coos gently, eyes warm with reassurance, “what’s going on in that head of yours, hm?”

You hate the way your eyes water, but you can’t help it. His thumbs are on your cheeks, brushing away the tears as they fall, and you tip your head back in an effort to prevent them, taking a shuddering breath. “I feel so bad for them, Yoongi?”

“For who?”

You sniff. “Namjoon and Tae. The other day, Namjoon told me he- that he-”

“Shh, I know, he told us,” Yoongi murmurs, his own eyes glistening at the sight of you in tears. “Keep going, sweetheart.”

You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to still your thudding heart. “But he likes me and now Tae is… I don’t know, but I’m worried that he might too, and then… Then I’m the asshole for sleeping with seven people at once.” You shrug with a bitter, teary laugh. “How can I act all coupley with Tae or try anything like that with Namjoonie when I know that I can’t promise them anything?”

Yoongi’s lips part, moving silently as he seeks the right words. After a moment, he sighs, cupping your face one last time before lowering his hands, one rubbing at your back, making you sigh at the comfort. “I’ll be honest, Y/n,” he begins slowly, “I know all there is to know about sex physically, but- In this case, I don’t think I’m the right person to give you advice.”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, wiping your eyes and sniffing to clear your nose.

“No, no, I think you should chat with someone about this, and if I’m honest, I could use some advice too.” You give him a frown of confusion, and he grimaces with a sheepish grin. “When Taehyung called out for you, I’ll admit I wanted to beat that brat for interrupting us when he’d already had his turn. But I shouldn’t think of him or you that way, it’s not healthy. I think perhaps you and I should go upstairs and talk to Seokjin-hyung, Y/n. Do you think you’d want that?”

“He’s probably asleep,” you deflect, though you can’t deny that you could do with an expert opinion at a time like this.

“Probably,” Yoongi agrees lightly, pressing on your back to begin guiding you towards the stairs, “but I think he’d much rather you wake him up than agonise over it for hours while he sleeps.”

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay, I’d like to go see him. Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” His hand slips into yours as he leads you up the stairs, but rather than anything with deeper meaning, it just speaks of comfort, a squeeze of reassurance as he knocks on Jin’s door, across the hall from yours.

Jin answers after the fourth knock, squinting into the hallway with a yawn. “Jungkook, for the last time, I- Oh.” The annoyance on his face drops, eyes widening with concern even as he blinks slowly, still half-asleep. “Is everything okay?”

“Can we come in, hyung?” Yoongi asks instead. “Some emergency midnight counselling?”

“It’s-” Jin breaks off to look back into his room, groaning at the time. You wince, bracing yourself for a scolding. “Almost five in the morning. I once had a baker schedule weekly sessions for three a.m. before he went to work, this is nothing. Come inside and make yourselves comfy.”

Your shoulders go slack with relief, letting yourself be pulled inside by your still-entwined hands.

Jin’s room is tidy but lived in; the floors are clean of stray clothes or other belongings, but the head of his bed is laden with different sized stuffed toys and the sweet smell of french pear fills the air from a diffuser resting on the window sill. You sit cross-legged and lean against the headboard, grabbing a round white plushie to hug for emotional support. Yoongi sits at the foot of the bed, and Jin comes and tugs on a dressing gown, perfectly spaced between the two of you as he takes a seat in the middle, legs stretched out across the width of the bed.

“Now,” Jin begins softly, and with that one word you feel yourself safe under his authority, cared for. His relaxed but introspective posture, the non-judgemental warmth on his face and the inviting guidance of his tone combine together to ease the tension in your chest. You send Yoongi a quick glance of gratitude, and he smiles back. “I want to begin,” Jin continues, “by reassuring the two of you that you’re both safe, and there’s no time pressure here. No emergency. Whatever problems you’re having, let’s work through them together. I’d love to say this is entirely confidential, however-” Jin breaks off to wordlessly gesture at the blinking red light of the camera aimed towards the bed. “But, it will be kept confidential between us and not spread to the other members of the house. Who would like to explain what’s going on?”

You nod your chin at Yoongi, and he laughs softly, sitting up. “Alright then. The issue of jealousy is beginning to rear its ugly head. Y/n is feeling guilty about it, and I admit I’m not completely innocent of feeling a bit jealous myself.”

“Jealous? How so?”

“Well, look where we are,” Yoongi explains rhetorically. “Y/n’s here to have sex with seven different guys in close proximity. It seems some of the others have begun to get intimacy and romance in the equation.”

You pipe up, clutching the soft toy for comfort. “How am I supposed to reciprocate anything like that when I know I’m going to turn around and let six other guys have a go too?”

Yoongi winces at the wording. “Which is where my issue comes into play. I don’t want to think this way, like we’re all taking our turn with Y/n, because she’s not an object, but at the same time it’s hard to not feel that possessiveness.”

Jin nods, mulling it over for a few moments. “If it becomes a bigger problem, I think we’d be better off discussing it as eight, or however many of us are still in the house. It’s entirely natural to feel romantic inclinations, or possessive inclinations, or guilt over dealing with the two,” he directs the latter at you, “but of course conflict and guilt should be avoided, and in this situation we have to be careful that we monitor our emotions well. Y/n; what is your thought process when you begin to feel guilty?”

You bite your lip, leaning your head back against the headboard with a shrug. “I don’t know, it’s like… It feels wrong to act couple-y or seek out anything romantic with any of you guys because I know I can’t be loyal or commit to being exclusive. But I also can’t stop people from feeling that way. So I don’t know what to do. I’m like- I’m quite literally sleeping with the competition.”

“Okay,” Jin responds smoothly, nodding in thought. “Are you worried about feeling romantic inclinations for members in the house?”

“But then it wouldn’t be fair to the rest who are still trying to do their best in the game,” you point out.

The therapist just smiles softly. “That wasn’t the question I asked.”

Cheeks burning, you stare at the blanket underneath you. You can’t look at either of them. “…Not yet,” you admit honestly, “but honestly, yeah, I’m worried I might.” You glance up again, seeking out Jin’s gaze pleadingly, needing advice. “And what if I liked multiple people? Then they’d be directly competing against each other. It’s messy.”

“We don’t-” It’s Yoongi that speaks up, cutting himself off with a sigh. Jin nods at him to continue after he pauses in uncertainty. Yoongi scratches at his neck self-consciously. “I don’t think we’re all taking this insanely seriously and personally. Sometimes I walk in on Taehyung and Jungkook sharing porn, or Jin-hyung and Hoseok giggling away like two scheming toddlers as they try and make pancakes shaped like dicks.” Jin’s ears go flaming red at this, but he doesn’t interrupt. “We’re all well aware of how crazy this is. Yeah, maybe sometimes we feel a bit possessive over you, or competitive, but on a rational level we aren’t acting like we’re at war, you know? We don’t necessarily… have to be in direct competition.”

Jin gives him another moment in case he has anything else to add, before sending him an appreciative smile. “Very well said, Yoongi. I think as long as we’re all communicative when those issues like jealousy do arise, it won’t cause any major conflicts. Does that bring you any comfort, Y/n?”

You realise once he says your name that your eyes have stopped watering and your chest has stopped thudding so sickly. “Yeah,” you answer honestly, “it does. Thank you, guys. Though I guess- Well, even if you aren’t taking it as seriously as the Olympics, you are still competing against each other. Even if it’s just friendly fire, I’m still torn in the middle.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Yoongi shoots back earnestly.

“How does it not?” you question with a frown.

The two older men share a glance, Jin giving the slightest nod before Yoongi turns back to you. “Producer Sejin said it didn’t have to be one-on-one. If you’d like, we could show you that we can work together.”

“If you’d like,” Jin purrs, a hand reaching out to gently clasp your knee, “we could share.”

“Share me?” you ask weakly. The two of them nod, Yoongi looking nervous, Jin at-ease. “Yes, please.”

“So polite,” Jin says with a teasing smile. “Do you want to go give Yoongi a kiss for me, baby?”

Though it’s a command more than a question, you nod, and toss the stuffed toy aside, crawling forward, over Jin’s outstretched legs to where Yoongi sits, cross-legged like you were. A guiding hand wraps around your waist, pulling you in to straddle him, and you feel a thin bolt of excitement run up your core as Yoongi tilts his head back to look up at you, his honeyed locks falling to either side of his head. He’s beautiful, from this angle; lips so delicate and pink like a cherub, but with a blazing need swirling in his blown pupils. And though you can’t see him from this angle, Jin’s eyes feel like a hot brand on your back, making you shudder.

You link your wrists behind his neck and dip your head down, eyes slipping closed as you finally feel the pressure of his lips rising to greet you. Yoongi’s kisses are still soft and gentle, but the third presence in the room has lit a fire under the both of you, and each movement feels deeper, greedier.

Yoongi’s hand finds your ass as you make out, and he presses you in towards him, encouraging you to grind against him. Still in nothing more than Taehyung’s shirt and a pair of panties, you can feel him achingly hot and hard against you, stiff in the confines of his boxers.

Expecting to hear Jin speak up with praise or teasing words, you jump when instead it’s his hand sweeping back your hair that he begins with, collecting it in a handheld ponytail, tugging just slightly and exposing your neck. You let out a breathy moan into Yoongi’s mouth when you feel plush lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, fingers pushing the wide neck of Taehyung’s shirt to one side, exposing a shoulder. Jin methodically, languidly, places a chain of kisses down your throat and the top of your shoulder. Unlike Yoongi’s butterfly kisses, Jin’s touch is all teeth and tongue, making you feel dizzy with desire.

You whimper at the loss of Jin’s mouth on you, followed quickly by Yoongi pulling away, and your head spins. It’s only a moment, though, before you feel a set of hands finding the bottom of your shirt, the other set unlinking your arms from around Yoongi’s neck, holding them up so Jin can pull the fabric up and over your head, discarding it and running his palms on every inch of bare skin he can see.

Your head lolls back and eyes shut in bliss at the feeling of Jin’s slightly-rough palms stroking your hips, back, shoulders, and you feel him shuffle forward on his knees until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath on the nape of your neck. You bite your lip when he grips your hips, holding you steady.

Your breath catches in anticipation, and suddenly there’s a wet heat around your right nipple. You let out a strangled moan at the feeling of Yoongi’s mouth on you, tongue flicking endlessly over the stiffened peak. “Oh- oh god,” you gasp out, trying to grind your hips against him for some friction, but Jin’s hands hold you in place.

Jin shuffles closer again, and you feel a hand slip round to your front, pressing on your lower chest to pull you backwards, and you whine, not wanting to separate from Yoongi’s mouth, but he leans forward with you, sucking and lapping at your nipple as you fall back onto Jin’s chest, that same hand holding you steady against him as the other one traces lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

You jump when the tip of his finger first grazes against your clit, eyes opening to look down. Yoongi’s head takes up most of your vision, bobbing obscenely as he lavishes attention on your nipple, taking a moment to wet his fingers so he can flick and rub at your other one. Your chest heaves with his attention, pleasure so sharp it cuts into you. Below that, your legs are spread wide over Yoongi’s lap, your panties bulging with the presence of Jin’s hand. As you watch deliriously, he dips down and slips a finger deep inside you, the angle allowing him to grind the heel of his palm against your clit and stroke your g-spot from inside you at the same time.

You pant, toes curling when Yoongi switches nipples, his mouth enveloping your left peak and leaving the right one glossy with spit and reddened. It’s intoxicating, being between them like this, and you feel your hips begin to jerk against Jin’s hand as an orgasm builds surprisingly fast.

“Are you gonna cum like this?” Jin murmurs, and you nod hastily, choking on your ‘yes’ as Yoongi pulls away slightly, keeping your nipple trapped between his teeth so it’s tugged. “Fuck, she likes that,” Jin comments darkly, and you cry when he yanks at the hair in his hand again, pulling your head to one side so he can descend upon your neck, bites and sucks aggressive enough to make you feel like you’re being devoured.

Being pinned between two relentless sources of pleasure is enough to make your thighs tremble, and your first orgasm is almost silent, given away only by your rushed gasps and the sudden flood of wetness that coats Jin’s hand, the older man cursing as he strokes you harder, letting you ride out the high until you go lax. Post-orgasm, your nipples are too sensitive and you squeak, writhing under Yoongi’s ministrations until Jin pulls the hand from your panties and pushes Yoongi away with it.

Yoongi’s head comes up, and you moan gutturally at the fucked-out look in his eyes. Now that Jin’s hand isn’t in the way, you can again feel Yoongi’s hardness against your clothed core; he must’ve been able to feel Jin’s knuckles rubbing against him with your proximity. Jin’s hand is still hovering in the air between you and, keeping his eyes locked on yours, Yoongi leans in and captures two of Jin’s fingers in his mouth, lips pursed obscenely around the slightly crooked digits as he sucks your arousal off Jin’s hand, the older man groaning behind you as Yoongi thoroughly licks off every finger, swapping his gaze between you and Jin.

“Fuck,” you pant, “you guys are gonna be the death of me.”

Jin chuckles, pressing a final kiss to your neck, which you have no doubt will be covered in vibrant blossoms of colour in a few hours. “Let’s get these panties off, hm? If Yoongi gets any harder, he might run out of blood in his head and pass out on us.”

“Shut up,” the younger man grumbles, but once you get up off his lap he’s flinging his shirt off and pushing down his boxers, no self-consciousness as his flushed cock springs up and smacks against his lower abdomen. Your mouth waters, letting Jin shuck off his own pyjamas before slipping down your panties, a hand lazily swiping over your wet heat.

“Turn around, baby,” Jin commands softly. “Let Yoongi have you first.”

You swallow as you obey, shifting so that you’re facing Jin, back arched to present yourself to Yoongi. He curses lowly, but wastes no time in lining himself up, a palm on your ass to guide you down on his cock, stretching your walls in smooth increments. He gradually thrusts deeper and deeper, slow enough for you to adjust, until you feel him bottom out, less girthy than Jin or Taehyung but more curved inside you, making your mouth hang open.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Yoongi praises. “Fucking finally.”

You giggle at his desperation, but your grin is fucked from your face with a thrust that knocks you forward, face smacking on the mattress, a moan pulled from your lungs as he rolls his hips, grinding deeper.

“Poor baby,” Jin teases. “C’mere.” You whine as Yoongi stills inside of you, giving Jin a chance to lift you up under the arms, wrapping them around his broad shoulders. Upper torso lifted, your hips are now at a different angle and you cry out when Yoongi begins to thrust again, the underside of his cock now dragging against your g-spot with every movement. Jin lets you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, weakly sucking a hickey into his neck to make him groan, his throat vibrating under your lips.

Soon, though, you don’t even have the energy to do that. As Yoongi picks up speed, you’re rocked violently between two hard bodies, drooling onto Jin’s neck as his hand snakes down to thumb at your clit. You cry out, shuddering as much as you can between them.

Yoongi curses and grips your hips when you clench around him, holding you still so he can increase his pace even more, a low moan rumbling in his throat. “I’m not gonna last long,” he warns. “Can I come inside you, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you cry, nails scratching at Jin’s bare shoulders as he swaps his thumb out for three fingers, rubbing them back and forth frantically in an effort to get you to cum. “Yes, fuck, I’m so close, don’t stop!”

This time, when you reach your high, you can’t stop moaning, the sound muffled by Jin’s shoulder as you’re pinned between the two men, Yoongi grunting as he spills, hot inside you.

You’re still riding the high of your orgasm when he pulls out, and your head spins, incoherent as you’re moved around, and before you know it, a thicker cock is being plunged into you, fucking you into oversensitivity.

As your orgasm fades, so does the fog in your mind and you become aware of the fact that the body you’re now propped up against is Yoongi, his hand in your hair and his teeth on your earlobe, tugging lightly and mumbling praises into your ear as Jin takes you from behind, filling the room with the sounds of skin impacting on skin. Unlike Yoongi’s slender, structured dick, Jin’s cock is a blunt instrument, hitting deep enough inside you that you feel him near your cervix.

“Tuh-too much,” you whine as Yoongi’s free hand snakes down, rubbing at your clit in a perfect mirror of your earlier position.

“Jin-hyung wants to feel you cum too, sweetheart,” Yoongi murmurs in your ear, voice dripping with honey, “don’t be selfish now.”

You keen, eyes tearing up at the excess sensation, Jin’s thrusts enough force to push Yoongi slightly too. Your hands curl around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin enough that he winces, but speeds up his fingers nonetheless, making you squeal. “I c-can’t,” you gasp, legs giving out.

Jin groans and you feel his arms snake under your hips, lifting you up and fucking you back onto his cock with every thrust forward. Your weight is held up by the two of them, tears streaming as you’re forcefully brought to your high a third time.

“Do we need to stop?” Yoongi asks lowly, and you feel Jin’s hips slow, Yoongi’s fingers sliding wetly over your lower stomach instead of your clit. The lack of sensation all of a sudden just makes you sob harder, shaking your head.

“Make me cum,” you plead shakily. “Wan- wanna cum for Seokjinnie.”

Behind you, Jin growls, his hands tightening, gripping handfuls of your hips as he starts up again. “Good girl,” he praises gruffly, “cum one more time for us.”

The time they stopped was apparently enough for your body to recover, because as he returns to his prior bruising pace and Yoongi strums roughly at your clit, the sting of overstimulation is gone, replaced by throbbing need. “Close, Yoongi,” you babble, writhing in the boys’ grip.

“That’s it, sweetheart, make a mess all over Jin-hyung’s cock.”

With that, you’re pitched into an orgasm so intense, it’s almost painful. You feel like your nerves are electric, making your limbs convulse. Unable to stop shaking, you clutch at Yoongi as Jin pulls out, giving your tired body reprieve. You whine when Yoongi leans you back, lying you down on the bed softly, and moments later, hot stripes of cum land on your heaving chest, Jin cursing under his breath.

The two of you gasp, unable to suck in enough breath to fill your thirsty lungs, but Yoongi, who came first, is already fully recovered. You shiver, letting out a groan as he leans down with a cat-like grin, lapping at the cum over your breasts.

“You’re fucking filthy,” Jin pants out, but continues to stroke himself slowly, managing to produce a few more drops of cum for Yoongi to lick up.

The blonde-haired boy leaves your nipples for last, grinning around each peak as you whimper, clutching his hair. Finally, once he’s done, he lifts his face up and kisses you once, deeply, so that you can taste yourself and Jin on his tongue.

“Holy fucking shit,” you exclaim breathlessly, “this show is going to kill me.”

Apparently back to his normal self, Jin pats your cheek teasingly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

You roll your head to the side, partly to escape his hand and partly to glance at the clock on his nightstand. Seven in the morning. You swear. “Fine, it may not kill me but it’ll definitely obliterate my sleep schedule.”

Jin considers this. “Fair,” he concedes. “If it helps, I’ll wake you up in a few hours so you can just call it a nap. And then we can all have a shower.”

“I am not waiting a couple hours to have a shower, thank you very much,” Yoongi huffs, pushing himself up to stand. “I have to brush my fucking teeth.”

“Hey!” the two of you cry in unison.

Yoongi rolls his eyes but a grin tugs at his lips nonetheless. “You should just be grateful I cleaned you up.”

Jin stares as Yoongi hastily slips back into his discarded pyjamas. “I’ll be sure to call you over next time I masturbate, then.”

Yoongi shoots him a dirty look. “Thanks for the fuck and the counselling,” he spits before darting out the door, slamming it behind him decisively.

Jin lets out a dramatic exhale, throwing himself on the bed so he’s lying beside you. “Men these days,” he muses sadly. “Lick up your cum once then act like they don’t know you.”

Despite your bone-deep exhaustion, you snicker along with him, feeling lighter than a cloud. “Thank you,” you say after the laughter dies down.

“For the…the sex or the counselling?”

You turn your head, glancing at him sidelong. “Would it be bad if I said just the sex?”

“Hey!”

“For both, Seokjinnie,” you say with a smile. “And for everything else, too.”

“Like what?” he asks suspiciously, chest puffing in anticipation of praise.

You hum happily, wriggling until you feel comfortable and your eyes slip shut. “Thank you for letting me nap in your bed.”

Jin huffs, but after a few moments, you feel him shift, leaning over you so he can flip the bottom edge of the duvet up and cover you. “Sleep well, little one.”

True to word, Jin wakes you shortly before midday, and makes sure the coast is clear so you can stumble across the hall to your room. Taehyung has luckily left by then, though a pool of bubbles rest in the tub. You try not to let the pang in your heart get to you, choosing to shower instead.

With Jin having kept you company, it’s Yoongi who’s manning the kitchen, running it like a military camp.

Taking mercy on your exhausted body, Yoongi lets you sit on the couch, watching their antics from the comfort of the soft leather.

“What the fuck are you doing with that grater, Namjoon?”

You grin at the bewildered look on Namjoon’s face as he looks up at his elder, holding a box grater with both hands as a potato wobbles on the bench beneath it. “You said to grate the potato,” the academic defends weakly.

“You- I-” Yoongi splutters, abandoning the pan he’s heating up to go snatch the metal contraption off Namjoon. “You rest it on the table like this, and then grate the potato against it. Please hurry; we need three big ones to go into the batter mix for the pancakes.”

To the left, both Jungkook and Taehyung are on drink duty, hovering over a sleek shiny machine on the countertop like apes discovering fire.

“Woah, hyung, the water comes from there,” Jungkook gasps, poking at a canister behind the machine. “And then you put the pod in and it becomes coffee. Isn’t that magic?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, leaning in so his face is directly in front of the machine, where a steady stream of coffee fills a cup below. “But how did it get the coffee out of the pod? Does the machine open it?”

“Maybe it dissolves,” Jungkook muses, and the two coo at it, staring in wonder as the stream tapers off.

“Let’s do another,” Taehyung cheers excitedly, the two boys jumping in unison when Yoongi calls out.

“You’ve made ten cups,” Yoongi snaps, wrist flicking gracefully as he flips a small potato-and-zucchini pancake in the pan. “There are only eight of us, and you don’t even know who likes to drink coffee.”

“I’ll drink them, Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook pouts, eyes wide like a doe.

“You’re one of the ones that doesn’t drink- Nevermind, fine, go ahead.” He turns back to his pan, slipping the pancake out onto a paper towel and pours more batter in.

Amongst the chaos, almost blending into the stainless steel refrigerator with his steel grey sweater, Jimin watches a pot of ramen with a desolate expression.

By the time Jin comes down and Hoseok returns from his stint in the confessional booth, the rest of you are at the table, fingers itching from the urge to dig in. They wash their hands quickly and join you at the table, allowing the food to be doled out onto plates and the conversation to flow again.

Sitting between Jungkook and Jimin, you take a sip of your second cup of coffee, courtesy of the drinks crew. Since most of them had gone cold by the time the coffee-drinkers finished their first cup, Jimin had taken the initiative to add ice and some milk to one, enjoying it as a cafe au lait, and you’d all followed suit, enjoying a refreshing drink with a hot lunch.

“How’s your week been going?” Jimin asks, and you’d be shocked at the small talk were it not for the intense look in his eyes. He’s feeling you out, appraising you just like yesterday with Taehyung.

You sit your drink back on its coaster, leaning back and letting your eyes wander over the other participants. “Eventful,” you say rhetorically, sending a grin over at him as his mouth twitches down, unimpressed. “Sorry, that’s a no-brainer. A lot of them so far have really surprised me.”

“Who?” he questions, and you can’t help but hold back a sigh. He frowns, surprised at your sullen reaction.

“Listen, Jimin,” you say slowly, appreciating the bubbly chatter that keeps your conversation private, “I appreciate your dedication to this, but we don’t always have to talk sex and competition, you know? Can we have a genuine conversation? I really want to get to know you.”

His eyes drop, face falling. It’s the first sign of what’s behind the facade, and you want to see more. When he looks up again, he’s sporting a rueful smile and you marvel at how boyish his face looks, how innocent. “Sorry. Work-mode. I think I’m… I’m starting to realise that I maybe don’t have to be on all the time. At least, not around you guys.” His eye twinkles. “I’m sure I’ll slip up from time to time and go back into it. Feel free to tell me if I’m being an asshole.”

You mock-pout, letting out a whine. “Well, I can’t say it now, because you’re not being an asshole.”

“Save it for a rainy day, then,” he remarks coolly, and you’d think he was back in his persona again were it not for the grin still on his face.

“Looks like we’ll be getting one soon enough,” you muse. “Namjoon says it’s raining all weekend.”

Jimin laughs, and the sound is like the tinkling of wind-chimes, airy and melodic. “I’m sure Namjoon isn’t too happy about that.”

“No, he seemed pretty-” You cut yourself off, staring hard at Jimin. “Why do you say it like that? Is his prompt the pool or something?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Well, you better hurry up, then,” you quip, “because Yoongi just plead the fourth.”

Jimin’s mouth drops open. “Normally I’m the one making clever entendres. I’m impressed.”

“So was he.”

When Jimin laughs this time, it’s loud enough to catch the attention of the table, everyone’s conversation halts, six sets of wide eyes on the intimidating Park Jimin, cheeks plumped and eyes crinkled as he positively giggles, freezing once he notices the attention.

“Goodness,” Jin remarks, “four days in and you’ve already broken him. He’ll be a sub by Week Three.”

Like a switch had been pulled, Jimin straightens his spine, head tilting to the side so he can level a piercing stare at his elder. “If I were you, I wouldn’t assume you’d still be there to see it.”

The table goes quiet in shock, waiting for Jin’s reaction. He simply shrugs and laughs softly, unruffled by the peacock show. “If I get voted off I can easily watch from home, Jimin. Maybe send in a question for the confessional. I bet you’d miss me.”

Like he’s realised Jin isn’t going to attack him, Jimin relaxes, a hesitant smile gracing his lips. “I’m not sure about you, but I’d definitely miss your excellent cooking.”

Jin’s ears go pink with the praise but from the head of the table, Yoongi’s mouth drops open, chopsticks going slack in his grasp. “Hey, you little brat, I’m the one that made this lunch for you all. Aren’t you gonna miss me?”

“Oh, that’s because you won’t go home before Week 3,” Jimin answers without missing the beat, a sugar-sweet smile on his rosy lips.

Yoongi’s mouth moves, but he has nothing to grumble about. Jimin 1, Yoongi 0. “Of course, I won’t,” he huffs quietly, stuffing his face with a chunk of fried pancake.

The conversation trickles back in, then, and Taehyung pulls you and Jimin into a discussion about a stray dog he’d seen wandering around, and as the eight of you sit around the table chatting long after your plates are empty, your chest feels lighter than ever.

Chapter Text

“Going outside again today, Namjoonie?” Yoongi questions with a teasing grin.

Namjoon sighs morosely at the thunderous downpour of rain visible through the kitchen windows. “It’s over for me,” he announces sullenly. “I’ve lost.”

You pause, spoonful of rice hovering in front of your open mouth. “So your prompt was ‘the outdoors’, huh?”

A miserable cry leaves his throat before he buries his face in his arms, slumped at the dining table where a few of you have gathered for breakfast. “Damn it,” he whines, muffled by the thick cable knit sweater he’s wearing.

You’d woken up early to a crack of thunder; the weekend storm apparently descending upon the villa earlier than expected. For once, you’d had to help Jungkook work out the heating system, cranking it up until you could smell the quickly-heating dust that had gathered from lack of use.

Yoongi, also an early riser, had announced that a day like today required a hot breakfast, and you’d helped him prepare a basic stew and some steamed rice as you were gradually joined by Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok. You’d waited a bit for the remaining two contestants, but the wafting aroma of beef and potato quickly broke your patience.

You finish your mouthful with a chuckle, leaning over to rub his back. “But now that you’re already going to get the penalty, you may as well do whatever you want.”

Namjoon’s body is still for a few moments as he considers this, before the faded purple of his hair jostles with a nod. “I guess so,” is the reply that comes from the crook of his arm.

You grin. “It’s okay, it’s not like you’re the last one. Hoseok hasn’t gone yet, and I swear Jimin doesn’t even wake up before midday.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at you challengingly but before he can retort, the youngest makes a noise of disagreement in his throat.

“Oh, he’s not sleeping,” Jungkook answers breezily between cheeks stuffed with rice. “What? Yesterday I wanted to ask if I could borrow one of his shirts for my stream this week - you know, that see-through pink one he wore over a white shirt? - and he didn’t answer when I knocked so I opened the door-”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi and Jin cut in simultaneously, faces turned down in disappointment.

“Wait!” Jungkook protests. “It’s not as bad as it sounds! I just stuck my head in the door and he was in the bathtub-”

“He gets a bath and I don’t?” Hoseok asks incredulously.

“Hobi-hyung, please,” Jungkook whines. “Not the point. So like, his hair was covered in white stuff and he had this bright green clay mask on his face and a black one all over his hands and the water was like pink, but still see-through and I could kinda smell rose and maybe tea tree oil but then he was yelling at me to get out and then I got a text saying if I told anyone he’d-” Jungkook pauses, his excitement fizzing out suddenly, replaced by a look of pure fear. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said all that. Let’s pretend that never happened.”

Jin looks like he wants to ask for more information, but Hoseok huffs, shuffling in his seat impatiently. “Who cares,” he spits petulantly. “He isn’t fucking Edward Cullen; just because he’s mysterious doesn’t make him hot. I can be mysterious.”

Yoongi gasps, pointing at Hoseok’s feet wordlessly. That alone is enough for the younger man to let out a pealing yelp, stumbling up out of his chair and jumping on his feet, frantically patting himself down as he wide-eyes the floor. Yoongi begins chuckling, a dry cackle that spreads to the others at the table, and Hoseok deflates, sending him a withering gaze.

Sitting back down in defeat, though not without glancing down one last time cautiously, Hoseok huffs at Yoongi, mouth sticking out in a pout. “You’re lucky I’ve already found my arch nemesis or it would be you, Yoongi-hyung.”

“What a relief,” Yoongi replies in sarcastic monotone.

Hoseok frowns, before cheering up again to send you a bright grin. “Hey, Y/n, are you gonna go out to the confessional booth today?”

“Real subtle,” Yoongi murmurs lowly.

Ignoring him, you shake your head. “It’s raining,” you reply, “I’ll get wet.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Hoseok tuts, the dull thud of his foot stomping making Yoongi fight to prevent a smile. “Stop it, hyung! You’ll give it away!”

“It’s okay, Hoseok,” you assure, “it doesn’t really matter if you lose. The penalty is just spending the week in the bunk room. If you think about it, it’s like a sleepover.”

The doms eyes slide back and forth as he considers this. “Okay!” he announces cheerily. “My prompt is the confessional booth! If everyone else says theirs, we can all hang out together!”

You swear you could hear a pin drop. Namjoon looks like he’s feeling sorry for himself again, Jungkook and Jin are both avoiding his entreating gaze, and Yoongi just stares at Hoseok unabashed, smirk deepening as the silence stretches out.

After a minute of dead air, Hoseok frowns. “Fuck you guys. I wanted to sleep on the bunk beds anyway.”

Feeling bad for him, you stand up, collecting the empty bowls around the table and taking them out to the kitchen. “It’s okay, Hobi,” you chime, “if everyone else succeeds for theirs then I can keep you company.”

Hoseok’s eyes go wide, before he turns to Namjoon. “Buddy, you gotta fuck her outside. Let me have this.”

Namjoon pales, staring at the rain outside which continues to bucket down. “We’ll catch a cold.”

“Fine, I’ll just make sure I don’t lose,” Hoseok insists, standing up himself.

You walk back towards the dining room. “What are you gonna do, ma-Hobi!” You squeal as your body is suddenly lifted, swung over a shoulder.

“Woah, hyung, you’re strong!” you hear Jungkook gush as Hoseok carries you without so much as a grunt. “That’s so cool!”

“Hey!” you try to snap, but with your body folded over a bony shoulder and hair dangling on end, you can’t imagine the heat of your comment is felt by anyone. “This is kidnapping!”

“Not really,” Jin calls out in a bright tone, “he’s not taking you off the property.”

You kick your legs in the air in frustration, blood rushing to your head. “Fuck you! You can go fuck Yoongi without me next time!”

“As far as threats go, that’s not strong,” Jin retorts, his voice carrying over the three shocked parties. “Fucking Yoongi would be a pleasure.”

“Thanks, Jin-hyung.”

“No problem.”

You feel your cheeks heat up with the added blood and your eyes ache, so you give up the fight, instead batting your fists against Hoseok’s ass in protest. “Hurry up, John Cena,” you grumble. “Either let me down or take me to the confessional room before I pass out.”

“So demanding,” Hoseok tuts, but before you know it you’re shifting, getting tugged down and up and sideways, vision spinning sickly until you’re resting, bridal style, in Hoseok’s arms.

You pout up at the dark-haired man. “Hobi, I feel seasick now.”

He grins, lips quirking into a heart shape. “Are you that wet already?”

Your head lolls back as you kick your legs weakly in his hold. “Stop it,” you whine. “Being mean.”

“Poor baby,” he jibes, and calls out a cheery goodbye to the others, walking you out to the outside dining area where you’d spent that first night, and following the house around until you arrive at the garden shed that houses the confessional room. Once he lets you down, he checks his phone, wincing at what he sees. “Shit. Producer Shin is getting impatient.”

Even with all the excess blood in your head, you pale at the thought of the friendly middle-aged man that operated the camera in the room. “He’s not waiting there, is he?”

“No,” Hoseok dismisses distractedly, typing out a reply, “I exiled him to Sejin’s caravan out front. He just doesn’t like leaving his post for too long in case others want to film.” After he pockets his phone, he glances up at you, a strange dark flicker in his eyes. “Get inside and sit on the stool. Wait for me.”

Your mouth drops at the sudden change in his tone, his demeanor. “Why should I have to wait?” you protest. “You’re the one that wants me in-”

You jump when a sudden smacking noise rings in your ears, sharp and thin. In front of you, Hoseok has simply clapped his hands together once, but the fright as well as his sudden seriousness has your words dying in your throat.

“I don’t appreciate subs that talk back,” he says slowly, each word enunciated and clear, like he’s reciting an important law. “So go inside, sit on the stool, and wait.”

“Yes, sir.” The honorific is meant to be a final sarcastic sign of defiance, but you find yourself meaning it as you say it. This isn’t Hobi that you can joke and laugh with. This is a glimpse of what he’s like at his job at the dungeon. Of what he’s like when he’s Master.

His back straightens and his face clears in approval, but he doesn’t praise you for it, simply standing in stoic expectation for you to follow his order.

When you get inside, you feel his eyes on your back like two hot pinpricks, but you don’t dare look back, leaving the door open a crack as you sit on the stool.

The room itself is cramped, with just enough room for the stool, the camera, and a seat behind it, empty for the first time since you’ve arrived. You’re used to seeing a producer sitting behind it, open from eight in the morning until midnight; Producer Shin doing the early half and Producer Kang in the evening. Both were friendly, middle-aged men. Shin was divorced and Kang was happily married with two kids in primary school, and after you’d gone through whatever thoughts were on your mind and whatever questions fans had sent in, both men would often switch off the camera and chat with you about whatever topic felt interesting at the time.

Though it wasn’t broadcasted like your interactions with the other guys, you really had found good company in the two of them, as well as Sejin. On the Tuesday after Namjoon had walked out on you, you’d even gone out the front door to the caravan where Sejin resided, joined by Shin as the two ate dinner. While the two of them, Sejin especially, preferred not to know any extra information about the game just to maintain a professional distance, but that didn’t mean they didn’t give you a hot cup of tea and a portion of the Chinese food they’d ordered in and distract you with chatter about a k-drama Sejin was watching.

Used to them, it feels strangely empty in the confessional room with that empty chair, more so now that you’re restless with anticipation, eyes straining to see outside the sliver of door you left open.

He leaves you for a long time. Whether it’s on purpose or not, or whether you’re just feeling the drag as you wait, you don’t know, but it seems like hours of being on full alert before the sudden metallic screech of the door opening gives you a fright, heart racing as he steps inside.

You gape as he casually steps behind you, a hand on the back of your head locking you in place when you try and look back at him. The glimpse you got was enough to see that he’d changed clothes slightly; bright yellow sweater replaced with a black leather jacket open over a see-through black shirt. The sight of him in your mind flashes every time you blink like an afterimage. Beyond the all-black ensemble, the tight ripped jeans and the heavy boots, perhaps the picture that stays behind your eyelids the longest is that of his hands. You didn’t have enough time to see, but he was holding what looked like a small rucksack, like the kind you’d take swimming or to play tennis. Somehow, you imagine what it contains isn’t so innocent.

You swallow as his fingers press on your scalp, splayed out. “Face the front,” he commands, and his voice brooks no protest. Once his hand leaves you, you remain still; hyper aware of the effort it takes to keep your eyes ahead, staring at the wall behind the Producer’s chair. “Arms.”

Pausing, you stare dumbly down at them as they rest on your lap. “What?”

Hoseok lets out a light sigh, like he’s exercising great patience, and taps your elbow. “Behind your back. Both of them.”

You follow his order, a shiver running through you when his hands, calloused but limber, grasp your wrists tightly. He ties you up in silence, the cool caress of silk making your eyes slip shut in bliss. While you definitely have an interest in it, your experience in bondage isn’t particularly vast, and you marvel at how such a simple tie changes you. With every swish of fabric against the delicate skin of your wrists, your nerves all over your body sing out, need pooling between your legs. Your shoulder blades are tucked back, opening out your chest, and even in a thick hoodie and leggings, you feel deliciously exposed. Your forearms are crossed over in the hollow of your back so that the tie binds your wrists together. Instinctively, your fingers wrap around your opposite forearm for support, and knowing that there’s no back to the chair, that you’re now open on all sides, has your heart-rate picking up.

You feel your arms tugged as he tightens the knot with a flourish, before slipping two fingers under.

“Wiggle your fingers,” he instructs, and you obey. “Try to get out.” You pause for a moment, but then pull in opposite directions, attempting to wiggle yourself out, but to no avail. “Good.”

You swallow again, fighting against the dryness of your mouth. “What are you-” Your eyes fly open wide as his hand claps over your mouth, pulling your head back to rest against his chest as he looks down at you. You make a noise of protest, but he shushes you, brows in a straight line of disapproval.

“I ask the questions, princess. You see that chair?” He points ahead, and you try to nod but fail as his hand keeps you still, your breath coming hot through your nose. “That’s where the producer sits and asks you questions. So the only thing I want to hear from you are the answers to my questions, and your safewords if you need them. Understood?”

You try and nod again; this time, he unwraps his fingers from over your mouth and lets you catch your breath. “Yes, sir,” you confirm, voice small.

“Do you remember your colours, princess? Can you tell me?”

You lick your lips where they’ve gone dry. “Green for go, yellow for slow down and red for stop… Sir.”

If he catches the pause where you almost forgot to say his title, he lets it slide. “Good. Let’s begin.”

You’re left dazed when he lets go of you and steps away in one swift motion, stepping to the side. You force yourself to keep your gaze ahead, unsure if the command from earlier is still in effect, but your eyes strain to make out the peripheral of him bending over the rucksack, rifling deep inside it. Your stomach curls at the sounds that emanate; the soft thuds of glass and silicone, the jangle of metal, the rustle of fabric.

Finally, he stretches up again, and you suck in a breath when his hand finds its way to your mouth again, this time wrapping tightly around your jaw and turning your face to look up at him, at the small device he’s wiggling in his fingers.

“Do you know what this is, princess?” Hoseok grins, and your eyes focus in on the small metal object. It’s short, a stubby cylinder. On closer inspection you notice a small remote tucked in his palm. A remote-controlled bullet vibrator. You nod as much as you can in his iron grip, and his eyes twinkle. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me and let me put it in?”

Your heart stops, blood rushing south as your desire skyrockets. “Yes, sir,” you gasp needily, unable to help yourself rocking your hips against the smoothed top of the wooden stool.

Hoseok tuts at your movements. “Good girls stay still,” he chastises, and you freeze, feeling your jaw ache once he lets go.

As it turns out, ‘in’ doesn’t mean inside of you, but rather in your panties. Your fingernails dig into your forearms with the effort to not move, biting down hard on your tongue. He steps in front of you, hands dipping shamelessly to the front of your leggings, fingers tugging at the elastic and releasing, letting it snap onto your front. You hiss in a breath through your nose but don’t speak, remembering his rule. Going back, this time his hand slips under both layers, and you can’t help the whine that comes out when you feel cold metal against the heat of your core, sliding over your clit. Frustratingly, he himself doesn’t touch you, only placing the vibe before removing his hand, patting over your crotch where you can see the obscene bulge, straight down the middle.

You let out a breath, brows furrowing with want, but he simply walks away, leaving you tied up and waiting as he sits behind the camera.

He looks entirely in his element, legs spread and leaning back in the chair, fingers running over the control in his hands. In front of him, slightly to the right so his face isn’t blocked, is the camera. It’s still set up, black lens staring you down from its position on the tripod. You watch with baited breath as he leans over and turns it on with a little electronic beep, Your pussy clenches at the thought of him filming this, not for the show but for himself.

How he’d take it to his room, booting up his laptop and locking his door. He probably sat much like he is now when he jerked off; legs wide to make room for his hands. Watching you moan and writhe, hands trapped behind you and chest pressed out as the metallic whine of the vibrations is just barely audible through his speakers. Would he drag it out, wanting to savour every last minute of the video, stroking himself slowly so as not to cum too soon, or would he be frantic, desperate, panting alone in his room as he tries to orgasm in time with you, spilling all over himse-

An unbidden cry leaps from your throat as you’re taken off-guard by the sudden voltage between your legs. Your thighs snap shut but the pleasure continues, Hoseok watching raptly as your shoulders twist, the instinct to pull your arms forward even as soft silk holds firm. “Hobi,” you whine imploringly.

He ignores you, ramping the vibrations up enough that the noise fills the room; a constant high-pitched whirring that rings in your ears even as you clench your thighs around it. Though you’d enjoyed the odd vibrator yourself, you were sure Hoseok knew full well that there were always a few high settings that were quite simply too much. It overstimulates you before you’ve even orgasmed, so much you can’t take it.

“Hobi!” you cry, curling over yourself as if you can escape it. Belatedly, in your electrified brain, a puzzle piece clicks into place. “Sir! Sir, please, turn it off! It hurts, please!”

You go lax, shuddering when it stops suddenly; the only sound in the confessional room coming from your heavy breathing.

“Oh, princess,” he soothes in a warm voice, “don’t worry. Sir will help you learn. Think of this as training, hm? I want our time together to be enjoyable, but it’s important that you know how to behave. Sir would rather reward you than punish you. That’s fair, don’t you think?”

You straighten up awkwardly, the weight of your arms crossed over your back making it difficult. He’s patient, smiling once you face him upright again. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

His eyes glimmer at that, and your core clenches, all too aware of the powerful motor resting over your clit. You wanted him to be happy with you, not just because you want a reward, but because you know just how unbearable his punishment would be. “Here’s the plan: I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. If I don’t like your answer, you know what happens. Understood?”

You feel your arms and thighs break out in goosebumps at the thinly veiled threat. “Understood, sir.”

“Then let’s begin. We’ll start with an easy one, hm? How do you address me?”

“Sir.”

“Correct. When should you speak?”

“When spoken to,” you answer automatically, but his head cocks to the side, raising the remote meaningfully. Your mind scrambles. “Wait! And if I have to use the safewords, sir.”

The hand holding the remote lowers again as he nods. “That’s right. I can punish you for forgetting the other rules and move on, but if you ignore that then we can’t play at all, princess.” Hoseok smiles placidly. “Those are the ones we’ve already learnt. Let’s see how good your instincts are.”

You take in a deep breath, eying up the remote warily. This was uncharted territory, so the chance of you making a mistake just went right up. Rather than making any comment, you bite your tongue and wait for him to address you.

“When do you get to cum?” Hoseok asks in an authorial tone.

You pause for a moment, not wanting to blurt out something wrong. “When Sir gives me permission?”

He smiles placidly. “Good. Now; normally with my subs, they come only by my say-so. But I know for you, that isn’t reasonable given you have to play with the others. However there is still something I expect to have control over. Think for a bit; I’ll give you time. What can you not do without my permission?”

You stare at him imploringly but he just waits for your answer. You rack your mind for some clue, running over his words. He only wanted you to cum with his permission, but he was saying sex with the others was fine. So it wasn’t like you couldn’t cum at all without him around… You blink, feeling cold dread settle down your back as you come up blank. “I don’t get it, sir, I’m sorry.”

“That’s disappointing.” Even as you brace yourself, the powerful vibrations shock you to your core, more intense than you remember them. Hoseok’s eyes remain on you as you rock your hips and wiggle your torso, body trying to escape the overwhelming sensations even as you know you can’t. He holds you like that for what feels like an eternity, though it can’t be more than a minute or two. Finally, just as you feel like you’re going to fall apart, he takes mercy, and the vibrations cease, leaving you gasping.

“The answer I was looking for,” Hoseok explains coolly, “is masturbate. You are not allowed to masturbate as long as I am in the show. If you want that release, you’re to come to me, and I’ll decide if you’ve earned it. Is that clear?”

You open your mouth for a disingenuous yes, but he beats you to the bunch.

“And if you break that rule, don’t think I won’t notice. I have mercy for mistakes but I don’t take well to direct disobedience.”

You deflate, lips turning down in a frown. It takes you a moment to commit. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” His eyes glint proudly at the power you’ve handed over to him, and you clench your thighs together, not wanting to admit just how much that look affects you. “I have one last question for you. What would you like from me?”

This feels like a question with no right answer, but still you hesitate. Ask for too much and he might chastise you. “A kiss, please, sir,” you try tentatively.

Hoseok’s eyes crinkle slowly as he smiles, standing up. “How romantic, princess.” You turn your chin up in anticipation, toes curling as he sidesteps the camera and moves closer, leather jacket shifting to reveal tantalising slips of skin, covered by the black sheer mesh. Once in front of you, he bends down painfully slowly, close enough that your eyes slip shut, the lightest brush of his lips on yours and-

He chuckles above you as the vibrations reappear with a vengeance, making you jerk violently and curse.

“Sir! Please!” you cry. Each time the vibrations come, they’re more insufferable, like they’re breaking down your defenses one pulse at a time. “Sir, please stop it, it’s too mu-uch!”

Hoseok turns it down, but not off, so that a gentle thrumming keeps you shuddering. He reaches behind you to tug your hair, pulling your head up to face him as he stands above you, tutting. “Why would I give you what you want?” he asks rhetorically. “You didn’t answer all my questions correctly. Maybe next time, hm?”

The vibrations are now the exact opposite of before - too low to bring you close to your high. “Hobi, plea- Sir, please, make me cum! I tried my best!” You round your eyes and pout, trying to plead with him.

Though he tries to hide it, his poker face falters for just a second. Just a twitch of his eye, a softening of his jaw, but you know you have him.

You let your voice soften even more, the sweetest begging. “I’ll be good for you, sir. Please just let me cum.”

Hoseok lets out a sigh, eyes melting. “Just this once, princess,” he allows, “Sir will go easy on you since you’re just learning.” He smiles at the way you moan in relief once the vibrations pick up again, the divine middle ground between too much and not enough. With your senses so heightened, it’s no surprise to feel the coil in your stomach quickly tightening, egged on by the fond way he strokes your hair, brushing it off your face to drink in your reactions. “Are you going to cum for me?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you breathe, hips rocking as much as you can without compromising your balance. It’s an overwhelming feeling having your arms still tied behind you. The thought that you aren’t in control of your own pleasure. Considering his prior rule, it doesn’t surprise you that he started with a scene where you didn’t even have the choice to cum without permission. Every time the silk tugs at your wrists or the metal vibe slides slightly with your grinding, it just reminds you of how you’re fully at his mercy, and you can’t wait to feel what that’s like once you finally cum. It’s not quite enough though; so wet, the metal slips more than you’d like and it frustrates you when the pressure isn’t enough, or is in the wrong place. You hiccup a sob when he turns the vibrations up just one more level, so close to your edge you could cry. “Ho-hobi, please, I need more.” You sniff at the way his brows tick. “Sir,” you cry desperately, legs widening in invitation.

Hoseok lets out a low grumble as his jaw flexes. “You’re lucky I’m going easy on you,” he announces, before dropping a hand down and cupping it over your center, pressing the vibrator right over your clit. “You better cum now, princess, I’m getting impatient. You wouldn’t want Producer Shin to walk in right now, hm? Poor man just wants to do his job, not deal with whiny little girls like you who just want to cum. Do you know why I’m not fucking you right now, princess? Because I know you couldn’t help yourself from making a mess. I bet you’re sopping wet in those panties of yours.”

With every sentence, Hoseok grinds the heel of his palm over you, jostling the vibrator against your swollen clit and before you know it, you’re cumming, leaning forward and burying your head in his chest as you latch your thighs around his hand, cresting the high.

He holds you there the whole time, vibrator jumping up another level to make you let out a squeal. As your vision begins to clear and your body returns to normal, the vibrations make you jump and whimper against him, arms flexing aggressively as you fail to pull your hands in front of you, no way of stopping the assault of sensation- unless; “Sir! Turn it off, sir, please!”

Hoseok takes mercy on you and the vibrations cease. As you gasp for breath, the sheer fabric of his shirt itching your cheek, you feel his palms slide over your shoulders and down your back, warm even through your hoodie, and reach for the length of silk. You make a low noise of disapproval at the feeling of being untied, not wanting the scene to be over, but he just shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Your shoulders twinge once your hands fall to your sides, and you follow his instructions to roll them out as he massages the muscles. While his fingers aren’t as heavenly as Taehyung’s, it does ease the ache, and you let him sit you up as he fishes the slick metal bullet out from between your legs, smirking at the way you shudder when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit.

“Now, princess,” he announces lowly, “Shin will be coming back soon, so we need to head out. But I still have one last lesson for you. Are you able to keep going? It’s nothing too crazy, I promise.”

You swallow the dryness in your throat that’s come from your heavy breaths and nod, a soft smile gracing your face with the satisfaction of a good orgasm.

Hoseok hums, pleased, and pats your cheeks warmly before holding up the black silk. “One of the most important things in a scene,” he explains, brushing your hair back with his free hand, his knuckles light against the sensitive skin of your neck, “is trust. So we’re going to take a walk back to the house together, princess. Only you’ll be wearing this.”

Your breath hitches as the silk comes over your eyes, cool on your lids and temples as he ties it in a knot at the back, tight enough that it won’t slip but making sure it isn’t catching your hair or digging in. It’s a new kind of vulnerability, having your hands free but your sight prohibited, and you find your head tilting up blindly, seeking him out in the void.

“Oh, Y/n,” you hear him chant in a whisper, “you have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

You shiver, hands clutching at him, slippery fabric and sharp teeth of a zip scratching your palms. “Sir,” you say, no words coming to mind but his title as his hands grasp your sides, lifting you off the stool. You stumble a but, hands flying out to steady yourself in the darkness. Your heart races when you realise your hands are empty, and as you wave them around, it’s all open air, feeling deep like a crevasse. “Hobi?”

Hoseok ignores the slip, his voice coming slightly to your right, but at a distance. “Follow my voice, princess. I’ll keep you safe. Come.”

Your mouth hangs open and your feet feel leadened to the floor. As fear begins to roil in your chest, you slide your feet forward, shuffling closer, hands scanning the air in front of you. With no sight, every inch feels like walking up to the edge of a cliff, hands grasping for contact that never comes. Your breath hitches, lungs not expanding fully. “H-hoseok, yellow,” you gasp, eyes tearing at the fear that grips your heart. “I don’t like it.”

“Okay, shh, you’re alright, I’m here,” Hoseok comforts, his voice closer, and you let out a sob of relief when your hands touch the mesh of his shirt, elbows buckling as he pulls you into a tight hug. The restriction on your ribs falls away the moment his chin rests on the crown of your head and his hands rub soothingly at your back. “I’m so sorry, princess,” he murmurs gently, “too far, hm? Are you still okay with the blindfold?”

You sniff and nod, bottom lip trembling so much that you don’t dare speak.

“So not being able to touch me was too much? That’s okay, don’t get upset, we don’t have to do that. Do you think you could walk to the house with me if I hold your hand? Would you like to try that instead?”

As he speaks, he slips a hand into yours, squeezing tightly. You take a steadying breath, feeling those sickly stresses fade away. “I wanna try, Sir,” you decide, voice only wobbling a little.

“Are you sure?” You hum in confirmation, and he rewards you with another soft kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s go, princess. Walk this way with me.”

It’s still scary stepping out blindly, but Hoseok reassures you every few moments, and his hand is like an anchor in the black ocean, keeping you steady. His hands are surprisingly slender, but they just fit into yours all the better, warm and strong and tugging you along slowly.

The first thing you feel once you leave the shed is the spots of rain on your cheeks, air fresh with moisture. Rather than be a negative, however, the lighter downpour soothes you, as well as gives you an incentive to walk faster.

There’s a slight lip where the patio begins, and once Hoseok guides you to step up on it, the rain ceases to hit you, now a soothing patter against the eaves of the house and the roof over the outdoor dining area. The swish of a glass sliding door, and finally you’re led inside, Hoseok warning you about furniture you’re close to so that you don’t trip.

Even as it gets easier with time, you still let out a heavy breath of relief once he slides back a chair at the table and helps you sit, unwinding the knot and baring your eyes to the world once more.

You blink, wincing at the bright lights of the kitchen and dining room, feeling Hoseok’s hands on you, warm voice praising you. Strangely, your mind feels more fuzzy now that it’s over, and you tell Hoseok, rubbing your eyes to try and get your vision to focus on his face.

“Probably subspace,” he answers, taking the chair next to you and holding out his hands, palms up. You frown blearily at him and he just laughs, reaching out for your wrists. You look down and let out a noise of surprise. All your struggling has left harsh red lines circling your wrists, and you hiss as Hoseok gently rubs them, pressing in an almost clinical manner like he’s making sure you haven’t hurt yourself. “Typically the trust exercise alone wouldn’t make someone fall that much, but I suspect cumming first had gotten you halfway there.”

“Okay,” you answer dumbly, making his lips quirk in a smile, letting your wrists down.

“I’m going to get you a drink of water and something sugary and then we’re going to sit down at the couch and watch a movie together, okay?”

“Okay,” you say again, head feeling heavy. Perhaps you’d lie rather than sit on the couch, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You did so well for me today, princess,” he praises. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you slur happily, waiting for him to duck into the kitchen and retrieve the supplies.

And so for the rest of the morning, the two of you curl up together on the couch, gradually joined by the others, until all eight of you are watching Paddington 2, Jungkook furiously playing a game on his phone to hide the fact that he’s tearing up at one of the climaxes.

It’s easy to let time pass like this; long after you feel fully clear and coherent again, you remain safe in Hoseok’s lazy embrace, his head resting against yours and his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Jin and Yoongi bicker about the movie choices as the day goes on, and Taehyung demolishes enough snacks to clear the pantry, but you and Hoseok just relax, enjoying the mutual comfort after your scene.

In fact, you barely notice the afternoon drifting by until Jin stands up and announces you order in some dinner, because it was too late to cook. True to his word, it was almost 8pm, and you didn’t fancy waiting until 10 or later to eat.

It’s not you, or even Jin or Yoongi, but Jimin that notices Namjoon’s change in demeanour. The eight of you are crowded around the coffee table cross-legged (or, like Taehyung, lying on his stomach) in an uncommon silence founded by the delicious food you’re all stuffing into your mouths.

Not all, apparently, as Jimin’s voice breaks the silence. “Namjoon-ah, why aren’t you eating?”

The silence changes, then. No longer the contented hush of eating, but the frozen uncertainty of a social faux pas. You’d only known each other five days and already Jimin was using a very familiar term, one that normally you wouldn’t dare use to someone older than you. Namjoon, however, doesn’t seem offended, but rather sends the younger man a grateful look.

“I’m just not hungry,” he weakly explains, staring mournfully at the steaming dishes in front of him.

“You didn’t eat lunch either,” Jimin points out, making you raise your brows. You’d seen on many occasions that Jimin was an observer - the memory of his hand around your throat still makes you shiver - but to hear it directed at someone else’s wellbeing impressed you.

Namjoon just shrugs. “I wasn’t hungry then.”

Abandoning his own meal and ignoring the gawking stares from the others at the table, Jimin reaches out with his chopsticks, piling food from all of the dishes into Namjoon’s bowl. “You’re going to sit here and eat with us, Namjoon, and then you’re going to tell whoever you feel comfortable telling why you’re upset.”

Namjoon’s face falls, guilty. His fingers fiddle with the hair tucked behind his ears as he watches his portion grow. “I don’t want to be a burden,” he mutters softly.

“You aren’t a burden,” Jimin says firmly, sending him a firm look and sliding a set of chopsticks his way. “Just say thank you and eat.”

“Thank you, Jimin,” Namjoon says in a small voice, grabbing a piece of pork cutlet first, biting into the crunchy crumb.

With a quiet smile, Jimin turns back to his own food, continuing to dig in. As if that’s the signal for the rest of you, the group returns to their bowls, a satisfied silence falling once again.

After a few mouthfuls, Jin sets his cutlery down, wiping his mouth on a stray napkin. “I think all of us are probably facing some challenges in this situation. No matter who gets voted out and when, we’re the only ones we have right now, so let’s be honest with each other and support each other. We shouldn’t expect Namjoon to be vulnerable with us without being able to do the same. So I’ll start; one thing I’ve been worrying about is that I’ll get my own feelings in the way - whether that’s affection or jealously or competitiveness - and not be able to give you all objective advice. I want you all to see me as a person you can talk to and a shoulder to lean on, so I’m worried if I get too in the game I may no longer be able to do that.”

Finished, Jin returns calmly to eating, pulling a long trail of cheese ramen into from the bowl into his waiting mouth. To your surprise, it’s Jungkook that speaks up next; the boy having kept quiet this whole time.

“I’m worried-” he begins, before his nose twitches violently like he’s fighting the urge to tear up. “I’m worried that I’ll miss you guys. If I get voted out or any of you get voted out. Like; once the competition is over we can still hang out at stuff sometimes, and we can still talk, but it won’t be the same.”

You coo as he presses the back of his hand to his nose, blinking hard. Sitting beside him, you leave your own food and wrap your arms around him in a sideways hug, resting your head on his shoulder. He sniffs, but his head tips to the side to lean against yours, and you feel his body relax into the embrace.

“I worry about that too, Jungkookie,” you admit. “Though my biggest fear is that whoever I vote out each time will hate me for it. I know it’s hard not to take things personal. It’s going to be an impossible decision every week, and I don’t think I could handle it if you got angry and didn’t want to speak to me again.”

“That won’t happen,” Taehyung answers certainly. “You’re so cool, Y/n, and getting a bunch of hot people to fuck you every week is the dream, but I would never want to be in your decision. We all know it’ll suck more for you than it does for us.”

You smile as the other guys at the table nod in agreement, letting out a low hum as Jungkook’s shoulder jostles beneath your head, the boy reaching forward to grab his bowl. As he lifts a hunk of white rice to his mouth, you poke him in the ribs, opening your own lips.

Though you can’t see his face, Jungkook scoffs and you can picture the reluctant grin he must sport as he changes angles, lowering it to your mouth instead. You hum happily once the warm rice fills your mouth, but it soon turns into an indignant squeak as Jungkook pulls out a cut of cooked pork with his chopsticks, eating the much better morsel. He chuckles, feeding you the next strip, and the two of you sit contentedly like that, feeding each other as the conversation continues.

It seems like it’s Hoseok’s turn. He has his gaze internal, biting at his lip. “I’m terrified that I’m gonna fuck up and say something wrong or do something wrong and then people at my work will think I’m a bad dom. I swear I’ve read Y/n’s limit sheet a million times but I still messed up today.”

“Hobi,” you sigh, voice soft with empathy, “that wasn’t your fault. And you handled it perfectly. Please don’t feel bad.”

Though you know the others have questions - Jimin especially is staring hard at Hoseok, not angry but burning with curiosity - nobody asks, simply letting things move on. Yoongi pats Hoseok on the back from beside him and looks towards the center of the room.

“My concern is with the editing team,” Yoongi explains. “We don’t really have any way of knowing how much is going to be shown in the episodes on the website, and I don’t want people to watch this and get altered perceptions of things. I’m sure it can’t be avoided, but I do sometimes wonder how much the audience even sees.”

“I bet if one of us takes our clothes off, they’ll air this part,” Jin offers between mouthfuls of meat. “If you ever want to make sure something gets on the show, just remember it’s a porn website. I bet I could get five minutes of me talking about the economic state of Poland on the show if someone was going down on me at the time.”

Namjoon chokes on a sip of his water and you laugh heartily at the satisfied grin on Jin’s face. Always one to lighten the mood, the eldest seemed relieved at the way Namjoon blushes, but still chuckles, looking less anxious.

“Alright, then,” the virgin announces shyly. “I’ll get it off my chest. I’ve wanted to make my move this whole week but I keep chickening out. I’m worried that I’ll get to Sunday and not have done anything.”

You straighten up off of Jungkook. “That’s easy, Namjoonie. I’ll just make a move for you. After dinner, let’s go to your room.”

He chuckles nervously, but the whole room burst into a joyous cheer when he nods at you.

“Namjoonie, you casanova!” Hoseok jokes, but you can see how his eyes glimmer with pride, all the guys genuinely happy for him.

Namjoon senses it too, and some of his nerves seem to dissipate. He laughs, rocking his fist like a small punch of victory, and sends you a grateful smile. “Anyway,” he says once the celebration calms down, “we still have Taehyungie and Jimin to hear from.”

“I’ll go first,” Taehyung insists, jumping up from his spot lying on the floor to sit instead, placing his hands palms-down on the table like he’s divulging state secrets. His eyes narrow, his voice lowers. “My deepest, darkest fear is that either I or Jimin-hyung will get voted out before I get the chance to give him a massage.”

Jimin rolls his eyes as everyone oohs at the confession, but he can’t hide the upwards twitch of his lips. “Go on, then,” he allows, cheeks plumped as they fight to hold back his grin. “I need to be loosened up to admit my feelings anyway.”

Taehyung hoots, springing up and stepping around limbs and bodies until he’s sitting on the couch behind Jimin, legs on either side of the older man’s body. “You’ll have to take off your sweater,” Taehyung announces, fingering the cream-coloured fabric around his shoulders, “it’s too thick.”

Once again Jimin surprises you by actually removing his sweater, delicately slipping the ends of the sleeves over his wrists before lifting it up. He’s not shirtless - underneath the sweater is a thin cotton tank, tucked into his white jeans - but it’s the most skin you’ve seen on him, and you gape at his bare arms, lithe and pale.

The atmosphere in the room has changed very suddenly, everyone’s eyes on the pair as Taehyung rubs his palms together, warming them before laying them over Jimin’s shoulders with an excited grin. Jimin sighs almost inaudibly, lips parting as Taehyung begins to work his magic.

“Tell us then, hyung,” the masseuse requests, “what’s eating Park Jimin?”

Jimin’s lids flutter, the tension returning to his face with a frown. “That none of you would like me. That I’d get voted off just to make things less awkward for the rest of you.”

Taehyung’s hands freeze, his face falling. “We love having you here, hyung,” he insists lowly. “You’re a tough egg to crack, but I bet you’re a softie deep down. We’ll get there.”

“Thank you,” Jimin replies shortly, feeling considerably uncomfortable with the eyes on him for once. “I do hope that wasn’t the end of the massage, Tae, you barely sat down.” His tone is flat, but he lifts his head up to send the younger boy a sidelong grin.

Taehyung winks back at him, gently turning Jimin’s head back to face the front. “Of course, not, that was just the warm-up. You’ll be so relaxed when I’m done, you won’t be able to walk up to your room.”

Jimin lets out a little laugh as Taehyung begins pressing his fingers in more deeply, the flesh rippling beneath his touch. The masseuse, however, glances up to the rest of you, jerking his chin away like he’s asking you all to leave. Privacy, he mouths, and you fight the urge to nod in understanding.

Jimin probably wouldn’t let himself relax like that if all of you were just sitting there staring at him; you can see the way he nibbles lightly on his bottom lip that he feels out of his comfort zone.

Jin takes the first iniative, letting out a satisfied sigh and standing up. “I’m full,” he announces, “who’s gonna come help me do the dishes?”

And like that, you all clear out and leave Taehyung and Jimin behind, Jimin’s shoulders dropping in relief when he thinks nobody can see. Instead of helping clear up, Jin tells you to take Namjoon upstairs, and before you can really comprehend it, the two of you are sitting on the end of his bed in his room, kicking your legs out awkwardly.

“Well,” you say after a moment, Namjoon jumping slightly like he hadn’t expected you to speak, “how would you like to do this, Namjoonie? Lying down, sitting up, standing?”

He swallows, fiddling with the ends of his hair. “I think sitting,” he answers. “Could we, um, do it under the covers?”

“The blowjob?” you ask in surprise, and Namjoon nods, cheeks bright red.

“Nobody’s seen me naked before, and it doesn’t matter if I get disqualified for not showing everything because I’m going to get the penalty anyway for not doing it outside.”

“That’s fine,” you coo, “whatever makes you comfortable. How about I turn away while you get undressed?”

He nods, and you face the wall, listening to the sound of him hastily undressing, like he was worried you’d get impatient and turn around.

“You do realise I’m going to see you naked anyway?” you call out. “I can’t suck your dick with my eyes shut. Well-” Your voice lifts up as you consider it. “I suppose I could.”

Namjoon laughs, and you let yourself smile proudly at the sound. “You can turn around now,” he instructs, and you do, smile widening at the way he sits up in bed, pulling the covers up over his chest cutely.

“Namjoonie,” you sigh, stepping over to perch on the side of the bed, “I don’t want to push you if you aren’t ready. Are you sure about this? I don’t mind waiting.”

He mulls it over for a moment, chin pressing out as he tenses his jaw. “I think I’ll be fine once we get into it, you know? I’m ready.”

“Then let’s get into it,” you announce, fishing out your phone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Namjoon’s shoulders deflate. “What are you doing?”

You smile softly, selecting a romantic playlist to set the tone a little; a slow, soothing guitar and husky male vocals emanating from your phone. “Setting the mood,” you answer, placing it on his nightstand and turning to him. “You’ve kissed before, yeah?”

Namjoon nods, his eyes widening once you stand up, shimmying out of your clothes. “I- y- mhm. Oh, god.”

“What?” you ask innocently, like you didn’t just get naked in front of him. This whole ‘being filmed 24/7’ thing had done wonders for your body confidence, and so you boldly straddle him, the duvet being the only thing that separates you. “We’ll just start with something you know, then.”

He makes a little muffled squeak of surprise when you press your mouth to his, but it shocks you just how quickly he seems to calm down and kiss you back. Perhaps he was a natural, or he had more experience than he’d let on, but in few short moments he begins to take control of it, deepening it and making your mind hazy with slips of his tongue.

“Wow,” you gasp out between kisses, “how did you learn to - mmph! - kiss like this?”

“Sorry,” he replies, voice already husky with arousal, “I’m excited.”

“Good,” you chime with a light giggle, “are you excited all over?”

“N- Yes,” Namjoon admits, stricken.

“So soon?” you question teasingly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, pulling away and clenching his eyes shut like it pains him. “You’re really pretty.”

To hide your blush, you slide a hand down his chest and stomach. “Do you want me to touch you now?”

He nods quickly, jerky motions as his hands fist at his sides. “Shit, can you- This duvet was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have-”

“Hey,” you interrupt softly, standing up off him. He makes a low noise of loss and opens his eyes, widening when he’s visually reminded of just how naked you are. “We can take the duvet off, don’t worry. It’s easier this way, too.”

Once he nods his consent, you flip the covers back, revealing his naked body.

Your mouth drops open. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Namjoon frowns, brows knitting together. “That’s not a good reaction,” he says unsurely, hands tucking over his hardness. He’s huge - big enough to rival Seokjin’s - and he’s practically leaking precum like a faucet, his tip looking so red it must be painful.

“Oh, I can assure you it most definitely is,” you gush. “God, I’m so lucky. How did I get this lucky?” you ask yourself in wonder, stradding him again. This time, you sit lower so that you can bend over and take him in your hand, marvelling at the weight of it.

With that simple touch, Namjoon’s head falls back and knocks loudly on the headboard, making him hiss. “Y/n, if you don’t put your mouth on me now, I swear…”

Your eyes widen, mouth in question falling open in shock. “So Namjoon’s a baby dom, hm?”

He lifts his head off the wall, staring at you like he can’t believe the words that came from his own lips. “Sorry, was that rude? I’m going crazy, I want you so bad.”

“Don’t apologise,” you croon, running a single nail lightly up his side, “I like it. I’m going to suck you off now, okay? Tell me what feels good.”

He nods, a small amount of his prior nerves returning, but before they can take over, you dip your head, wrapping your lips around his tip and simply sucking off the precum that pools there.

“Fuck! God, oh my god,” Namjoon all-but shouts, and you can’t help but chuckle around him. “Don’t laugh,” he chastises, a hand winding its way in your hair to pull it back from your face.

You glance up at him, lips still on him, and slowly sink down, letting his hardness fill your mouth all the way to the back. He’s barely halfway in, but when you flick your tongue against one of the veins on his underside, it looks like he’s reached nirvana. You pull up, licking your lips, and use your hand to spread the wetness around his length. “Good?”

“Good, just keep - fuck - keep going.” You grin when his lips press together and he visibly forces himself from saying please, now that you’ve said you liked his dominant streak.

Always one to please, you drop your mouth onto him again, this time building up into a bobbing rhythm, a salty tang hitting your tongue as sweat and precum mingle. As you jerk off what can’t fit in your mouth, Namjoon curses lowly and his hips rise off the bed, pushing himself deeper so that his tip begins to breach your throat. You gag in shock, but he just groans louder at the obscene noise.

Expecting him to do it again, you try and relax your throat, but instead you feel tugging on your scalp as he pulls you up by your hair. He’s still slow enough to be painless, but he seems more comfortable taking some control and it makes you grin when you get pulled up off him, sucking air into your lungs.

“I want to try something,” Namjoon admits with wide, lust-ridden eyes. “I won’t push if you don’t want to.” He swallows, fingers tightening in your hair. “Can I fuck your face?”

Your mouth drops open even more, but your grin only broadens. “Fuck, yes,” you enthuse. “Is like this okay, or do you wanna change positions?”

“Like this,” he says, and his other arm moves down so that he can hold your head with both hands, fingers brushing back the hair that’s fallen in your face. “Just hit me if it’s too much?”

Your heart warms at the thought of him worrying about your safety, and you nod, taking the initiative to lean down, opening your mouth to rest his tip on your tongue, glancing up at him.

“Okay,” he breathes, and begins.

Rather than fucking up into you, he first starts by guiding you up and down on his cock with his grip on your head, each time a little lower, a little deeper down the back of your throat like he’s readying you. After only a few pulls up and down, his head tips back again, smacking noisily against the headboard as he speeds up, eyes shutting in pleasure.

It’s only once his eyes have closed that his hips begin to thrust up too. Like he’s letting himself get lost in the pleasure and just feel. You get lost in it, too. It’s easy to go passive like a doll, just focusing on the way he fills your throat. The way he hisses when you gag, and moans when you swirl your tongue in time with his thrusts.

Your eyes tear up with the intensity of it, breathing through your nose and trying not to cough on him, but you’re in heaven, a hand slipping down between your legs to give yourself some much-needed friction.

It’s once you start touching yourself that everything suddenly happens much faster. The rush of pleasure makes you moan around him, which makes him open his eyes blearily to look down at you, slowling his thrusts when he sees your hand between your legs. Once he realises what you’re doing, he curses again, and his hips pick up their speed, surpassing it until you’re gagging on every thrust, your jaw aching and tears streaming, but still you rock against your hand and moan onto him, caught in the pleasure of feeling, watching, and hearing him fall apart as you fall apart yourself.

As you grow close, a hair’s breadth away from orgasm, you reach your free hand between his legs and cup his balls, softly rolling them in your grasp.

Namjoon shouts as he reaches his orgasm, and suddenly he’s pressing you still against him, cumming down your throat with a stream of intense groans, thighs shaking.

You can’t catch your breath; his cock triggering your gag reflex but staying deep inside you, and it’s that desperation, that lack of control that brings you over the edge yourself, soaking your hand and the sheets below it with the force of your orgasm. He lifts you up as you’re riding your high, spent himself, but the sudden rush of oxygen to your lungs only heightens your pleasure, and you collapse, face pressed against his stomach as you cum and suck in air and cum some more.

Your own legs are shaking by the time you finish, core throbbing with aftershocks, and it takes all of your energy to push yourself up beside him so that you can lie against his bare chest again.

The room is filled with nothing but panting for a few moments, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest as his arm wraps around you, holding you tight.

Namjoon is the first to speak, his voice low even in the silence of his bedroom. “Will you stay?”

You swallow back the hoarseness in your throat, using your foot to hook the duvet back up and over your lower halves, snuggling closer to him. “I’ll stay.”

Chapter Text

You wake up early in the morning to a sore throat. Though the arm that rests heavy on your waist and the breath that tickles the nape of your neck tempt you back to sleep, you can’t even swallow without wincing, and the only solution is a cool drink and some pain meds. 

Namjoon doesn’t react when you slip out from under him, sliding your pillow under his arm. He simply lets out a satisfied hum and curls it closer to him. Still, you dress in breathy silence, tiptoeing out and leaving the door open a crack for your return. 

Downstairs, the blinking numbers on the microwave read shortly before 6am and you groan. The chance of you getting any more sleep after this was slim.

You pour some water and swallow some basic pain meds with a sigh. If you were honest, quiet moments like this were rare. Past the glass sliding door which leads to the outdoor dining area, you can see glints of reddy golds and flaming orange, pooling between trees to warm the concrete patio. This villa was truly beautiful, and you knew you’d never stay in a place like it again. Not only the house itself but the company you shared was invaluable. All the guys had such a personality to them, and you were surprised at how quicky you’d grown accustomed to them all. Fond, too.

Yoongi’s thoughtfulness, Jungkook’s energy, Jin’s stability. Taehyung who was so giving and Hoseok who never let the mood falter. And more recently, Namjoon becoming more confident and Jimin revealing flecks of heart behind the stone facade. Everyone brought something to the villa that made it a truly magical place. You feel like you’d be happy even without the mind-blowing sex. As the elimination day draws painfully close, your stomach turns with the thought of turning someone away. Of removing them when they’d only just gotten settled. The Lady was the hardest job in the game in many ways. 

Finishing your glass, you set it in the sink with a wet clink and roll your shoulders, arching your back as the last of your sleep leaves you in a final yawn. You turn to leave, squeaking when you’re met with a solid body coming out of nowhere. 

“Woah- Jimin?” The last person you expected to be up so early, you cringe as your voice raises in disbelief.

The man in question grins, eyes twinkling even in the relative darkness of pre-dawn. “Going so soon?”

“I-” You find yourself at a loss of words, feeling caught somehow, and you clear your still-aching throat. “What are you doing up?”

“Looking for you, little mouse. Or did you forget I’m next in line?” He speaks as light and melodic as a music box, but his lips are twisted in a grin as his eyes roam over you, wearing the same clothes as last night. “Has our Namjoonie finally popped his cherry?”

The way he plays with every syllable has you feeling so vulnerable, so under his control, and your gaze falters, looking instead at his odd attire. Like he’d gotten up in a hurry, he’s wearing a mix of pyjamas and clothes. His legs are tightly clad in glossy faux leather, blacker than black, and his top half is a silk pyjama top, sinful red trimmed with black, and with only a single button done up in the middle of his torso, exposing his lower stomach and the top of his chest. You suck in a breath at the expanse of skin, and what looks like the black sliver of a…tattoo? 

“Cat got your tongue?” he questions, drawing your eyes back up as he licks his top lip slowly, purposefully.

“It’s none of your business,” you reply, cursing the way your voice catches throatily, clearly affected by him. “And if you’re going to take your turn, can we at least go somewhere a little more comfortable? It’s six in the fucking morning.”

Like a switch is flipped, his face darkens, the humour gone. You swallow the lump in your throat as Jimin’s mouth sours into a scowl, but you can’t deny the heat that pools between your legs at it too. “I knew it,” he announces, voice acidic. 

“Knew what?” Your fate sealed, a streak of confidence rises within you. You’d ruffled him. And every part of you is screaming to make him react again. 

His eyes are molten power as they focus on you. “Five days and you’ve already become a spoilt brat.”

Your mouth drops open. “Fuck you! It’s your job to fuck me.”

“Why should I fuck you when you haven’t done a thing to earn it?” Jimin takes a step forward and reflexively you back up. “You’re an ungrateful cockhungry slut, little mouse. If you want me, beg for it.” He takes another step and again, you shuffle back, heart picking up.

“I shouldn’t have to beg,” you counter, though your voice isn’t as firm as before. Jimin simply raises a brow, continuing to walk you further into the kitchen until your lower back strikes the countertop. You swallow again, wishing you weren’t so easily affected. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll just send you home.”

“You could,” he gives dismissively, lips twitching into a sneer at his following words, “but I don’t think you will. I don’t believe you’d send me home if I didn’t fuck you. Because you want to know how it feels.”

You bite your tongue, glaring up at him, at the way he’s so indifferent about it. “Fine. Then fuck me.” 

Jimin tuts reproachfully, his arms leaning forward to prop himself up on the bench behind you, caging you in. Your heart stops beating, the throb felt between your legs instead as he’s close enough to touch, his mouth close enough to kiss, not that you’d dare. “That isn’t begging,” he whispers in disapproval. 

“I don’t beg,” you insist, even as your hands clench, fighting the urge to touch him. 

Suddenly, the shadow over his face disappears, and he pushes up, creating some distance between you again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says airily, causing you to frown in confusion. “We aren’t at the begging stage yet. You know what you need first?”

You stare at him blankly, giving him a shake of your head. 

Jimin grins, and you swear you see his eyes flash. “Punishment.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you breathe, though instead of sounding offended as you intend, you just sound needy. Fuck Park Jimin and his iron grip on your arousal. 

His grin broadens like the Chesire Cat. “You’ve been very bad, little mouse. You’ve been demanding and impatient, you’ve used vulgar language and I seem to recall the night you interrupted my sleep because of how loud you were next door. I can’t let it slide,” he divulges with a solemn shake of his head, like your poor behaviour pains him, “I just can’t.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t punish me like a child.”

“And that will be another one,” Jimin says instead, perfectly calm, rich blue hair catching the light as the sun continues to rise just outside. 

“Another what?” you fire back, beginning to tire of so much talk and so little action.

“Another spank,” he deadpans. Were it anyone else, any other situation, perhaps you would’ve laughed at it. Instead, you stare wide-eyed at the stoicism on his face. “That makes it five for swearing to me in this conversation alone, four for being impatient, and five for keeping me up that second night. Should we round it up to twenty?”

You stay silent for a moment, desperately trying to process it. You shake your head slowly. “You can’t make me,” you point out.

“Of course I can’t,” Jimin gives with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair as if to demonstrate how calm he is. Your eyes are magnetised by the silver rings that glint on his fingers, unable to keep yourself from imagining how they might feel on you. “You can always use your safeword, and I’ll respect it,” he continues. “But I doubt it. Whether you like to admit it, little mouse, you want this. You think I haven’t worked out that you a little pain with your pleasure?” He stands back, just a step, but the extra distance makes you feel suddenly unanchored, and you hate it. “I’m going to give you three seconds to turn around and bend over. If you don’t, I’ll walk away and you get nothing. If you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can talk.”

You huff, pressing your lips - and thighs - together in an effort to stay strong.

“One,” Jimin begins, eyes alight with bemusement. You don’t move, just sighing in annoyance again. “Two.”

Your incisors are clamped on your tongue so tightly you can almost taste blood as you glare intensely at his mouth. He draws it out cheekily, letting you wait painstakingly as he wets his lips and finally opens his mouth, the pink of his tongue pressing against his teeth as he-

Before you can process it, you’re flipping yourself around and pressing your upper chest against the counter, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation as Jimin begins to chuckle. 

It’s far too loud for the stillness of the early morning, and you muffle a sob in your forearm - not regret, but neediness. A week he’d deprived you, and the smug fucker was right: you’d take what you could get, and love it too. Blessedly, he doesn’t seem to notice the sound, the air filled instead with his triumphant peal of laughter at seeing you presenting yourself to him just like he knew you would. 

“Oh, little mouse,” he coos. “What would the others think if they saw you like this, hm? Bent over for me in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could walk in.”

You take in an unsteady breath, feeling your pulse race with excitement as his fingertips - still cold from the morning air - slip under your waistband, as he painstakingly slides it down, revealing your ass. You let out a small whimper when the toe of his shoe catches your ankle, pushing to widen your legs apart. You bite your lip, cheeks heating, core heating even more. 

Jimin runs his palms flat over your bare ass and you hiss through your nose at how icy his rings feel. While his hands are smaller than those of other guys of the house, you feel no less under their control, shivering at the contact. “Was it twenty we agreed upon?” His tone is light, playful. He knows he’s got you, and one final burst of defiance bubbles up through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you spit. “Does that make it twenty-one?”

You’re jumping before you even feel the lacing of fire on your right cheek or hear the smack that echos in the room. You choke on a moan, unable to deny how the pain settles into a low-burning pleasure that adds to the wetness between your thighs.

From behind you, you hear Jimin sigh heavily and quickly, like he’s trying to calm himself. “I want you to count them,” he instructs, and you flinch as his hand comes down on you again, but this time his slaps are weak, light swats that warm your skin to prepare it. “Twenty starting now. Understood?”

You bite your lip, but pull yourself up a little to free your face, propping yourself up with your elbows. You feel so vulnerable like this, just your ass bared, legs spread and at his mercy, but all you can think of is feeling his hand on you again. Blearily, you nod, and a pleased hum comes from his throat, barely audible. 

Jimin makes you wait for it, holding the silence so that your ears strain, fighting the urge to glance ba-

You jerk with a shallow cry as your other cheek stings with his smack, core clenching. “One,” you announce quietly. With every moment of sunrise, the room gets lighter and lighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of someone walking in on the two of you. Was that dread in your stomach or excitement?

He doesn’t speak, only smoothing the skin to cool it before laying another blow, waiting for you to call out a shaky “two.” He’s wearing at least three rings, and you can feel them, more unforgiving than his flesh and painfully ice cold. You wonder in the back of your mind if they’ll leave marks. You can’t help but hope they do. 

You’ve made it to eight strikes before your knees begin to shake slightly. Every lick of pain simultaneously hurts more on the raw skin of your ass, but pools as liquid pleasure between your legs faster as you grow accustomed to it. Your pussy aches for contact, and you arch your back after the ninth spank falls, presenting yourself to him even more in the hopes that he’ll be tempted, but Jimin just tuts in disapproval.

“Look at you, little mouse. Soaking after a few spanks. You love this, don’t you? No part of you can deny it anymore.” You pant and bite down hard on your lip, wanting so bad to beg for it. Still, you refuse. Jimin just hums at your attempt at stoic silence, amused more than anything. “Almost halfway. It’ll be over so soon, don’t you think? We should make the most of this.” 

You frown at his words, more so when you feel the heat of his body leave you. You crane your neck automatically, spine lifting to stand, but his voice freezes you. 

“Fucking face the front and keep position,” he seethes, “I never said you could move.”

You sink back down, widening your legs and lowering your chest so it rests on the edge of the countertop, eyes locked onto the splashback in front of you. With ears straining, you shudder at the sound of a drawer sliding smoothly open, and the various clinks and thuds that follow as he rummages. Once the drawer shuts again and Jimin returns, you can barely breathe, goosebumps breaking out on your thighs and arms. 

He pats something against you, then slowly runs it over the heated skin of your ass, the slight friction making you hiss. “Do you know what this is? Feel it.” He continues to brush it around slowly, and you wrack your mind. It’s not metal or plastic - the texture is a little too rough and it isn’t as cold as his rings were. You hiss when you feel it dip down between your thighs, too low to touch you were you need it most. The shape is a tall oval, flat on one side but concave on the other, and you let out a low moan, back arching lower as you work it out. Jimin laughs, bringing it back up to tap it teasingly on your cheek. “I think you do,” he remarks. “Shall we continue?”

You bite your lip but it can’t fully cover the needy moan that spills out. He’s really about to spank you with a wooden spoon, and you’re really dripping for it. “Ye-yes,” you gasp out, a cry ripped from your throat at the first hit. It’s far sharper on your skin than his hand, whistling through the air and landing with a resounding smack. The sting lasts longer too, almost like you can feel the exact outline of the spoon on your skin. “Fuck, ten.”

When Jimin speaks again, his voice is rich with sadistic amusement. “Do you like it, little mouse? You should see yourself. The outline of the spoon just now, the marks from my rings-” he drags a single nail down one of the aforementioned marks, and you keen, the raw pain sent straight to your core, “you mark so beautifully for me. This perky little ass of yours is so red, you know? Should we make it even redder?”

Without waiting for your answer, he lands three smacks in quick succession - right, left, right again. Your body’s instinct takes over and you pull your body forward, tucking your ass in as if to escape it, even as your core throbs with need and your nipples press stiffly against your shirt. 

Jimin won’t have it, though, and you moan in a low keen as he wraps an arm low over your hips and tugs you back down, pressing the middle of your back with the fist and clenches the spoon so that you arch beneath it, dropping down that hand to run his knuckles lightly over your abused skin. “Shh,” he hushes firmly, “we aren’t done here yet. If it’s too much for you, you know what to say.”

Your heart warms at his reminder of your safeword, but you have no intention of using it, already melting under the additional physical contact. Instead, you lean back into his grip, presenting yourself for more. 

You sense rather than see his grin, but it makes you shiver nonetheless as the amused breath escapes his nose, his cool fingers running over your flesh, thumb and pointer as the rest wrap around the stem of the wooden spoon. “Are you gonna count them then, little mouse?”

Your mouth drops open to answer, but you pause, having to really think back. “Mm, uh, twelve? Eleven?”

Jimin chuckles, returning to those light teasing pats of the wooden spoon, just to make your thighs shake. “Thirteen, actually,” he reveals in a rakish tone. “If you wanted more, you just had to ask.”

Before your brain can process a retort, the spoon comes down again, an audible thwack that jiggles the flesh of your ass with the force of it, and you keen, knees buckling for just a moment. The contrast of intense stimulation of the fiery skin on your ass and the complete neglect of your needy core is infuriating but addictive nonetheless. “Fuck, Jimin, fo-fourteen.”

You automatically suck in a breath in the sudden lull as Jimin rears his hand back, but the quiet reveals a different noise, the laughing and joking and thud-thud-thud of people coming down the stairs, and you’re choking on the air in your lungs, freezing as two familiar faces round the corner and come to a halt as they witness the scene you’re in. 

Your legs shiver but your core throbs still as Jungkook and Taehyung watch you wide-eyed, eyes dancing in unision from Jimin, to you, to your ass and the spoon in Jimin’s hand. The cheeks of your face are somehow hotter and redder than the others, but regardless you stay frozen in position, waiting for someone else to make a move.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, the only one of you four unbothered. “She has six hits left, boys,” he offers up, patting your hip like you’re a ride to have a go on. “Any takers?”

Taehyung steps forward first, Jungkook’s mouth still hanging low. As you watch his slender fingers wrap around the handle of the wooden spoon, you shiver, and he chuckles at your reaction. 

“You know,” he muses casually, replacing Jimin behind you as the older man steps away to lean against the bench beside you, “I think I’m starting to warm up to this whole situation, petal. Where else would I get to walk in on a sight like this? And Jimin-hyung is so generous to let us help out. Thank him, Y/n.”

A breath rushes out of your throat, one you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Humiliation rushes through you, but it’s cloudy with arousal, and your tongue is loose with it. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Good girl,” Taehyung coos shortly, and that’s the only warning before he’s swatting you harshly with the flat back of the spoon, and you let out a strangled moan. Your ass won’t stop stinging between hits, but you obediently call out ”fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,” until you only have three to go. 

Taehyung relinquishes his turn reluctantly to Jungkook; the youngest contestant in the house eying you up strangely, almost like he can read and understand the pleasure in the welts on your ass and the tremble of your knee. Almost like he’s been where you are, or somewhere close. Judging by the apparent variety of his streams, you don’t doubt it. 

Like Jungkook’s testing the waters, his first hit is the weakest, barely making you flinch. You exhale lowly in disappointment. “Eighteen,” you say, swallowing down the drool that threatens to gather. 

Before any more land, you instead feel fingers at your hairline, brushing back strands that have covered your face. Small but strong points of pressure light up on your jaw as Jimin pulls your chin to look up at him, his eyes swirling with deep satisfaction. 

“I wanna see the look on your face,” he announces quietly. “I want our Jungkookie to make these last two hurt. Will you take it for me?”

His voice brooks no disagreement, still dripping with authority and control, but you know that he’s once more giving you an out should you wish to use your safeword, so you nod shakily, eyes fluttering. “Please.” You’ve still received no friction - or contact at all - on your pussy, and you feel yourself going crazy. The pain is addictive, licks of pleasure that seep into your veins after every spank, but you can’t handle how you drip down your own thighs, soaking your panties even as they rest hooked just above your knees. Two more hits and you’d finally get what you needed.

You haven’t seen Jimin’s face this close, and certainly not seen his eyes in such intense detail before, and instead of anticipating the next hit you find yourself blinking up at him dazedly. His hair, the deep glossy navy that you’d never seen on somebody before, is swooped gracefully over his brow, which is still a natural black, and below it his eyes are molten with lust and satisfaction, watching your face intently. His hands are hot on your face, the rings cool points of unforgiving contact, and you can’t help but wonder if the plush pillows of his lips are warm like his hands or cool like his rings. They’d feel softer against yo-

“Fu-fuck!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as two sharp hits strike you not on the already-red skin of your ass, but the tops of your thighs instead, just below the swell of flesh. It’s more painful than you’d expect, but you’re so turned on that your mind just screams better and more. Caught up in it, you belatedly gasp out a “nineteen, twen’y,” and feel yourself sink against the countertop, held up by Jimin’s hands on your face and jaw.

“Little mouse,” his voice calls out, and your brows knit together as you struggle to decipher his tone. “Little mouse.”

You force your eyes open, breathing heavily through your mouth as everything except the burn below and Jimin above fade away. “Jimin,” you whisper, lips barely moving.

His give a twitch, pleased. It warms your heart to see the flicker of approval. “What do you say, hm?”

You don’t even think, but your body knows the answer. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“I’m not the only one,” he remarks, though a pleased grin is evident on his face and in his voice. 

Truthfully, you’d almost forgotten the others, but as you thank them, eyes still locked on Jimin, you feel your toes curl at the realisation that you’re surrounded by three extremely attractive men. Men that are all here to-

The dopey smile of anticipation is struck from your face when Jimin abruptly lets go of you, pushing off the countertop. You stumble, catching your legs under you and fumbling to pull up your jeans reflexively. “Where are you-?”

You jump at the dull clang of the wooden spoon being tossed in the sink, Jungkook’s hand free as Jimin discards the tool. You watch openmouthed, panties and jeans barely on as the former rest uncomfortably soaked against your core, as the eldest of the three rolls his shoulders and sighs happily. “So, boys; should we make some omellettes for breakfast? I feel like cracking a few eggs.”

Taehyung grins and Jungkook’s gaze slides to you in uncertainty but the two agree, casually retrieving ingredients and utensils like you aren’t sitting there with a stinging ass and your jeans unbuttoned. 

“Jimin,” you mumble dumbly, and to your surprise he acknowledges you this time, walking over to stand in front of you with a congenial smile. 

“You’re done here, Y/n,” he announces. Unabashedly, his hands slip down and begin to fully slide your panties and jeans up, fingers slipping up the zip and buttoning them closed. “You didn’t want to beg, and I’m not going to make you. You took your punishment, so why don’t you toodle along? I’m sure one of us will call for you when breakfast is ready.”

Your mouth drops open, the final lusty haze of the scene evaporating fast enough to leave you reeling. “Are you serious? You aren’t going to do anything?”

Jimin’s eyebrows lower intently, voice hushing like he’s sharing a secret, even though Taehyung and Jungkook are right behind him in earshot. “Oh, little mouse. You know exactly what to do to get what you want.”

He waits expectantly, but your eyes dart past his shoulders to the other two boys. Begging was one thing, but in front of the others? You fight a pout, hoping your face looks angry rather than put out. “You’re an asshole, and I’m voting you out.” 

His grin broadens, wolfish. “Well then,” he remarks with an unbothered lift of a brow, “I better hurry up and make these omelettes before I get sent home, now, shouldn’t I?” 

And with that, he turns his back to you and begins chatting to his friends. You stay for one more moment of shocked silence, but soon turn tail, stomping back up the stairs with the wet fabric of your panties pressing coldly against you.

When you peek your head in the door, Namjoon is still asleep, so you quickly duck back into your room and change into some fresh clothes and underwear before going back in, content to chill on his armchair until he wakes. 

You’d told him you would stay, and the way the fabric of your leggings rubs against your sore ass when you sit only reminds you of the fact that you’d been gone longer than anticipated already. He looks peaceful, though, clearly quite content with the pillow you’d left him with. Namjoon’s mouth is parted slightly, slack and half-pressed into his own pillow. He clutches yours with both arms, snuffling or grunting in his sleep every few moments. 

You’re happy with just scrolling through your phone aimlessly for the half hour or so it takes before he wakes, back arching and neck cracking as he stretches. A beam broadens on your face at the dazed slow blink and wide yawn that he emits. “Sleep well?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He pats the pillow and mattress beside him in confusion, sitting up to stare at you with a squint. “You stayed?”

“I said I would,” you dismiss, a single thread of guilt wrapping around your heart at the memory of where you’d just came from. “I woke up a bit early and needed a drink. Sore throat.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen dramatically, the concern on his face ringed by a mess of tanged purple hair. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve asked…”

“You’re fine, Namjoonie,” you murmur. “I was actually wondering if you’d want to-”

You break off to the sound of what is undoubtably Jungkook belting out his lungs from downstairs, announcing breakfast is ready. Namjoon lights up, kicking the blankets off in a rush to get out of bed. “I’m starving,” he chimes, getting dressed without a shred of the self-consciousness you’d witnessed the night before. Hunger has seemingly stolen all his brainpower, and you follow his eager slipstream as he rushes down the stairs noisily, thumping into the kitchen. 

Both your heart and your core throb in disappointment, your opportunity for morning sex lost by the offer of a hot meal. Your mood sours even further when you come face-to-face with the three youngest serving up omelettes, Jimin smiling brilliantly, still dressed in a barely-buttoned silk pyjama shirt and some black glossy pants.

He barely spares you a glance, even as he sits almost directly across from you. You take a seat between Namjoon and Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin on the other side and the heads of the table kept by Hoseok and Yoongi. 

You have to admit that the wafting smells of cooked egg, cheese and various spices have your stomach grumbling, so you vow to ignore the unsatisfied heat between your legs and the smug man across from you and tuck in, your knife cutting through the omelette like butter. It’s delicious, and clearly everyone at the table shares the same sentiment, moans of surprised enjoyment filling the air. 

“I’m impressed, Jimin,” Yoongi admits, “the first time I’ve even seen you awake for breakfast and you make us this. It’s fantastic.”

His voice is melodic, teasing at your eyes even as you avoid looking at him. “Thanks, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin replies warmly, “I was actually taught the recipe from one of my good friends who works as a chef in France.”

Hoseok isn’t impressed, and the way he scrunches his face up in annoyance makes you suppress a grin. “Let me guess, Remy the rat? If we dig around in that hair of yours will we find him tugging you around?”

Jimin ignores him coolly, knife twirling deftly around his fingers. “I haven’t seen Victor in several years, but his cooking lessons have always stuck with me. Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai qui tu es.”

“You are what you eat,” Namjoon muses, shoveling a wobbling stack of egg into his mouth. 

Your eyebrows lift, turning to him with shock. “You speak French?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin straighten in interest at the man directly across from him, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice, cheeks bulging as he hurriedly tries to finish his mouthful. “Took it as an elective in university,” he explains once he’s done, “never actually been to France, though.” He turns to Jimin finally, eyes shining with the spark of curiosity that always seemed to smoulder there. “What’s it like?”

“C’est incroyable,” Jimin enunciates, the French dripping off his tongue like sparkling water. “Tu devrais y aller un jour. Mon ami a un appartement à Paris avec une chambre d’amis dans laquelle je séjourne des fois.”

Namjoon gasps, and you glance around the table, everyone bar the two of them looking totally confused. “Avec vue sur la Tour Eiffel?” The only indication it’s a question is the way his pitch rises, but the rest is incomprehensible to you, so you just return to your omelette, content to watch the conversation play out like a foreign movie without subtitles. Body language and tone being your only clues.

“Bien sûr,” Jimin replies easily, his head tipping to the side, eyes burning as he stares at the older man, “mais on pourrait peut-être parler de choses plus excitantes que cela? As-tu apprécié la compagnie de Y/N dans ton lit hier soir?”

You straighten up as you hear your name, glaring at Jimin in suspicion. You’d never regretted picking Spanish in high school instead of French more. Namjoon, interestingly, seems equally ruffled by Jimin’s comments. “That’s really none of your busi-”

“Tu vas me parler en Français, Namjoon, ou je vais commencer à te poser des questions en Anglais. Qu’est-ce que t’en dit?  The choice is yours.” Jimin’s voice turns sharp, spitting out the syllables like jabs. The choice? In unison, everyone at the table turns to Namjoon in question as the academic flushes. 

“Fine,” he says shortly in English, before switching back to French. “On n’est pas vraiment… allés jusqu’au bout. J’allais lui proposer ce matin, mais tu nous a appelés pour le déjeuner. .”

Jimin’s mouth curls slowly, deviously, making Namjoon swallow. You feel your own cheeks heat at the thought that they were very likely speaking about you. “Is that so?” Jimin asks in English, head tipping slowly. He takes a single bite of his breakfast, making Namjoon shift awkwardly in his seat at the wait. “Well; I do apologise for interrupting.” You look up between the two of them. Was he referring to him spanking you that morning? Or him calling you down just when you were going to make a move? Jimin isn’t done, sliding down in his seat just slightly, so he’s leaning back. “Laisse-moi me faire pardonner.”

Namjoon’s brows knit and his mouth opens to reply, but suddenly he goes ramrod stiff, eyes flying wide open. “Wh-what are you-?” His chest heaves once, his throat bobbing as he swallows down the rest of his sentence. 

You frown, glancing down to see the shiny tip of Jimin’s shoe pressed firmly against Namjoon’s crotch, shifting back and forth. You look away, hoping to avoid attracting more attention to Namjoon’s predicament, but you can’t deny the hot rush of heat between your own thighs at the thought of Jimin getting Namjoon off at the breakfast table with just the sole of his shoe. You finish off the last of your omelette bitterly, hating the way that your mind wishes you were in Namjoon’s seat right now. 

Like nothing’s happening, Jimin continues to converse with his elder, the others at the table seemingly none the wiser. “Ce n’est peut-être pas une une chatte bien chaude et humide, mais tu es un bon garçon, n’est-ce pas? Tu vas prendre ce que je te donne, non?” 

“Jimin,” Namjoon croaks out, voice surprisingly steady even as it’s low with arousal, “i-is there any more batter left? I’d love another omelette.”

Jungkook pipes up, finally hearing enough English to be able to contribute. “There’s not much left, but I was actually thinking I kinda feel like some hash browns and bacon, so we could go for round two if anyone else is up for it?”

Yoongi and Jin, like they’ve been awakened with the promise of more food, drag their chairs back simultaneously to stand. “I don’t trust you with frying bacon, Jungkook,” Jin answers from beside you with a small grin, “let hyungs help.”

Half the table files away, Hoseok also joining those in the kitchen, probably because he’s hoping for some taste-testing, and you’re left with Taehyung being the only unaware party, on his phone as he mindlessly sips away at a glass of juice. 

“Regarde-moi ça,” Jimin announces with melodic glee. “il y a moins de regards sur toi maintenant. Les autres sont dans la cuisine, Taehyung ne nous prête pas attention, et Y/N sait déjà ce qui est entrain de se passer; regarde-la.”

You glance up at your name but Taehyung doesn’t even react, mouth slightly open as he focuses on the video he’s watching silently, pinky finger tapping at the condensation on the glass absentmindedly. 

Namjoon turns to face you, before glancing down at the shoe which rocks faster and broader between his legs, his cock tented and leaking a small wet patch in his trousers. He knows you know. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Jimin overtakes deftly, making Namjoon hunch over the table as the jerking of his shoe against Namjoon’s clothed cock speed up. Even as Jimin’s eyes are on you, he addresses the older man in lush French. “Est-ce que tu vas venir comme ça, hm? Crois-tu pouvoir rester silencieux?”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat stemming from between your legs as you wish you could’ve felt some contact from Jimin instead. Even just the sole of his shoe would be better than nothing, but it seems that Namjoon doesn’t share the sentiment, as his hand shoves at Jimin’s foot. “Rouge,” he gasps out lowly, and Jimin recoils like he’s been shot. 

Sitting upright, feet to himself again, Jimin’s eyes widen at the word. Even with the little to no French knowledge you have, you can guess the meaning. Red. Namjoon used the safeword. “I’m so sorry,” Jimin croaks, and you’re startled at the vulnerability and genuine apology in his voice, “are you not-?”

“Juste parce que je suis techniquement vièrge, ça ne fait pas de moi un soumis,” Namjoon explains with a rueful smile. You wish he would’ve spoke in English, but his light tone at least reassures you that he isn’t mad or hurt or upset. He mostly just seems a little embarrassed and overwhelmed. 

“Can we stop speaking in baguette?” Taehyung pipes up miserably, putting his phone away. “Oui, oui. Mercy. Oh reservoir. Anything more complex than that and you’ve got me lost.”

Namjoon frowns, bewildered. “Do you mean merci and au revoir?” 

“Do I?” Taehyung questions rhetorically, eyes dazed. Namjoon just shrugs hopelessly, but that seems enough for the black-haired boy. He cheers up a bit and, glancing at Namjoon’s hunched figure, lets out a short sigh. “You look tense, hyung. Do you need some help relaxing?”

Jimin bites his lip with guilt, and you hate the way you’re drawn to that pillow of flesh, so pink against the white of his teeth. What you wouldn’t give to lean over there and see what it felt like to kiss him. 

Namjoon, however, seems less concerned with Jimin. You get the idea that perhaps he’s not one to have a short temper or hold grudges. “It’s okay, I think I might have a quick shower upstairs before the second lot of breakfast is finished.” Displaying his characteristic shyness, Namjoon makes an awkward yet completely unsuccessful attempt to leave the room without revealing his tented crotch. 

Taehyung’s eyes follow it out until Namjoon’s out of sight, his mouth hung open. After a moment’s thought, brows knitted tightly together, Taehyung turns back to the two of you at the table. “Do you think he’s turned on by food or something? He did seem pre-tty eager to chow down that omelette. I should go ask him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin sinks his face into his hands as Taehyung scrambles after Namjoon, and you honestly don’t blame him.

You manage to make it to late afternoon before you encounter Jimin again. After the meal, he speaks quietly to Jin and the two disappear into the private rec room. For you as well, the day is spent inside, Jungkook asking for your assistance in spotting him at the indoor gym, mostly so he can explain to you and Hoseok the extremely elaborate plot of his latest anime show while he lifts weights. You and Hoseok, completely lost, ended up spending hours there trying to understand all the character arcs and plot twists and backstories, eventually moving up to Jungkook’s room so he could show you the first few episodes. By the time he let you go, you made your way downstairs with a bag of laundry, having almost spent a full week in the villa.

Unlike most of the house, the laundry feels very basic and surburban: a front-loader, a dryer and a sink with some cabinets are really the only pieces of furniture, so you perch on the dryer as you wash, and the washer as you dry your load of clothes. 

Letting the regular thump of the drying machine lull you into a sleepy daze, you’re too zoned out on your phone to notice someone approaching until fingers wrap around your phone, pushing it down away from your face. 

Jimin’s still hasn’t changed out of his red pyjama shirt, and as you sit up ramrod straight and focus onto him, you admire the way the lapels lay open to expose his collarbones. “Fancy seeing you here,” he announces with a grin, eyes raking over you as you sit atop the washing machine. 

“What a coincidence,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what would that be, little mouse?”

You fight the urge to press your legs together at the petname, Jimin’s eyes intelligent and self-satisfied as they watch you. “Coming here to seduce me.”

Jimin laughs, and your cheeks flush hot at the sound, his head tipping back to expose a graceful neck. “Oh, Y/n, don’t think so highly of yourself. I’m just here to do my laundry.” 

Dubious, you keep your legs dangling over the side and your arms crossed as you look down. True enough, a basket of washing rests and his feet, and you wait bitterly as he brushes your legs wider so that he can turn on the machine, selecting the right settings and pouring in a scoop of detergent. You keep a stoic silence, biting down on your tongue at his actions, but he doesn’t seem to care about your eyes on him.

In fact, he appears to openly thrive on it, sinking into a crouch in front of the machine and blinking up at you innocently, his face in front of your aching crotch. Refusing to give in, you press your lips together while he opens the door and deposits his clothes, socks, underwear, everything he’s been wearing the past few days. Once he’s done, you feel yourself relax a bit, but then he lets out a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose I should wash these too,” he muses, fingering at the bottom edge of his shirt, and your mouth goes dry. That fucker. He doesn’t even look at you as he undresses, but the smirk on his lips speaks volumes.

Your hips long to writhe, but you force yourself still as he unbuttons his shirt, opening it up and chucking it in casually, running a hand over his now-naked chest, quite literally rubbing it in. The most skin you’ve seen on him yet, you allow yourself to drink in the sight. He’s more muscular than you’d expect, though it’s all lean muscle, graceful yet speaking to a corded strength. 

Even though you know it’s coming, there’s nothing that can prepare you for the obscene sight of him pulling down the zipper of his black patent leather pants, revealing equally black boxers. He’s not hard, not even the slightest hint of a chub, and the thought infuriates you that he could make you so needy without even getting aroused himself, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

As he lowers his pants down, his thighs are revealed in all their glory, the thickest part of him. They flex as he lifts each leg, tugging off the pants fully and tossing them in. Though you hadn’t noticed before, now is the first time you’ve seen him without his shoes on, and you marvel at the fact that he loses none of his power like this, that it really comes from within, from his piercing gaze, knowing smile and confident posture. Chucking them in the washing machine too, he pauses for a moment, lip tugged up in a smirk, before his ringed fingers find the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Startled, a breathy, “Jimin,” falls from your lips unbidden, barely audible.

“Hm?” Jimin has no regard for modesty as he bares himself fully, cock twitching as you stare, wide-eyed. “What’s the problem, little mouse? This is a shared facility.” He chucks the slip of light fabric amongst the rest of his clothes and shuts the lid, pressing start. A gasp escapes you as the machine kicks into gear, already beginning to shudder and rock under you, sending vibrations to your needy core. 

As you stare, Jimin stands in front of you, resting a hand on the edge of the machine, right between your splayed legs. His dick is slowly plumping up, the man completely unbothered as he lowers his free hand to press at the skin around it, sighing. 

Your fingers clench into fists as your arms remain crossed, pussy thriving and dripping with the pleasure after so long, but cursing that his hand is so close yet so far to your clothed cunt. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you spit, leaning back and tipping your head up to stare stubbornly at the ceiling. The image of him, his naked body is still seared onto your eyelids and you let out a huff. “You have no shame.”

“Shame never seemed like a particularly useful quality to have.”

“I’m not giving you what you want,” you insist, voice trembling slightly - though you blame the steady jarring of the washing machine that runs from your core all the way up to your teeth. 

“Then I could say the same to you,” you hear Jimin reply easily, before letting out a suspiciously low groan. 

Your head shoots down and you gawk at the way he grasps himself, fully hard now, and runs the crook of his pointer finger over his weeping head. His cock is gorgeous, the hair above trimmed neatly and the tip arcing towards the ceiling, towards your shocked stare as he smears the glistening precum around his head, hissing at the coolness of his rings on the heated skin. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you utter in complete bewilderment. “This isn’t washing your laundry!”

Jimin hums, head tipped back and eyes slipping shut in indulgence. “I can leave to jerk off alone if that makes you more comfortable?”

You fall silent, eyes locked onto his languid strokes. That isn’t what you want at all, and he knows it. “Jimin,” you murmur lowly, captivated by the slow drags of his hand on his cock, rings glinting wetly. He makes a noise of response, almost lost in the mechanical whirring and thudding of the washing machine that stirs in your loins. Your voice is barely louder than his. “Jimin, why are you making this so difficult?”

His head tips back down, lips parted and eyes lidded. “Oh, little mouse,” he sighs, “do you wish you could touch? Do you wish I was inside you?”

You glance again at his hand, resting mere centimetres away from your core. “You know I do,” you admit in a small voice.

“Then beg,” he replies simply, hand slowly picking up speed on his dick. “The only thing that’s keeping you horny and unsatisfied is yourself. You could’ve cum three times already if you knew what was good for you.”

You sigh, licking your lips needily. A light ding echoes in the room; your washing has finished in the dryer. You ignore it. “Please, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes open fully, locking on you with a smirk. “Closer,” he answers, teeth exposed as he grins just slightly. Still, though, he continues to stroke himself, even going so far as to take a half step forward to rest the underside of his cock against the washing machine, groaning at the vibrations. 

You huff when you realise he isn’t going to speak further. “You do realise I could just go get myself off, right? You don’t have all the power here.”

You know you’ve said the wrong thing when his cheeks lift, lips spread wide in a teasing sneer. “We both know that’s not quite true. Perhaps I don’t have all the power, but a little birdie told me that you’re no longer allowed to put your hand in your own pants. I don’t suppose that rings a bell?”

He knows about Hoseok’s deal. Perhaps they all do. In an effort to wipe the smug look off his face, you scoff, spreading your legs wider in a show of relaxation. “Well then, I guess I might as well go upstairs and ask Hoseok to fuck me. I bet he’d do a better job than-”

Like lightening, his hand leaves his own cock and lashes out, fisting your shirt in his hands and tugging you forward, hard enough that you have to quickly uncross your arms and grab onto him to stop your foreheads from knocking together. You gasp at the fiery look on his face, his voice a sharp growl. “If you think he can fuck you half as good as I can, you’re dreaming.”

“Wha-?” you make out, so close that your breath ruffles the wisp of hair that swoops over his brow.

Just as quick as he grabbed you, Jimin lets go, stepping away. “Your laundry is ready,” he announces lowly. “You’ll be waiting outside my bedroom door in two hour’s time or you won’t get anything at all. Clear?” 

Startled, you nod, jumping down off the mid-cycle washing machine, your legs feeling wobbly with the sudden withdrawal of vibrations. Grabbing your washing out of the dryer, you rush out the room with one last glance at him before the door slams and locks behind you. All is silent in the hallway as you ascend the stairs, but internally you scream with excitement. 

Two hours drags and stretches and then snaps, everything too slow and then too fast until you’re knocking on Jimin’s door, stomach swirling sickly with anticipation. 

He takes his sweet time answering, heightening your heart rate, but by the time he does it takes your breath away. He’s in a different pair of black pants, jeans that are skinny enough to make his legs seem a million miles long. His chest is fully covered this time, but it’s a transparent white mesh singlet, a white pressed blouse with gold buttons and cufflinks unbuttoned at the top to expose it. His lips, plush as ever, are covered in a sheer gloss that glints in the light and his eyes are intense in the frame of thick lashes and a hint of shadow on the lids, warm and smokey. As usual, he’s laden with jewellery, his classic silver rings paired with a pair of thin dangling chains from his lobes that sway hypnotically when he tilts his head in greeting.

You, too, had dressed for the occasion, seeking out your prettiest pair of lingerie - a black lace set with embroidered vines and buds around the hems and cups. The only thing you’re wearing on top is a black silk robe tied lazily around your waist. Thanking your lucky stars nobody had wandered into the upstairs hallway while you were waiting, you step inside, the thick carpet under your bare feet muffling your steps.

Jimin is back in shoes, and you bite your lip when you recognise them as the ones he’d worn at breakfast just that morning. It feels like days ago, your heightened arousal the whole day stretching time into an eternity. 

“Kneel,” he instructs shortly, pointing at the carpet in front of him. For a moment you hesitate, but you’d gotten so far and it would be foolish to test your luck and risk getting thrown out with nothing yet again. Besides, part of you wants to see what he’ll do when you’re actually good for him. You kneel.

His room is perhaps one of the largest excluding yours. His bathroom door is shut, but even just the bedroom has room for a queen bed, two nightstands, a dresser and a chest at the foot of the bed which you’re facing. You wonder idly if he’d paid the staff off for the biggest room, but before you can ponder much more he steps in front of you, his crotch right at your eye-level. You glance up him, sucking in a breath at how perfect he looks glancing down at you.

You lick your lips in anticipation, and it draws his attention. “This pretty little mouth of yours,” he muses, reaching out to run his fingers over your lips, tugging down the flesh to watch it bounce back. Your chest puffs in pride, mouth practically watering at the thought of sucking him off. You part your lips when he presses on the seam, and his first two fingers delve into your mouth, slowly thrusting so that the pads run along your tongue, making you drool around his digits. You widen your jaw obediently, eyes pleading. But his face changes, then, a frown clouding his features. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he decides stiffly, and suddenly your mouth is empty, Jimin wiping your saliva off on your cheek before he turns his back to you, opening the chest.

Your mouth stays slack and open, but for a different reason. From what you can see, the wooden box is filled with toys, slips of fabric and leather, metal chains, everything. Suddenly, something catches your attention. At the bottom right corner, the initial PJM have been gracefully engraved, painted in with a glossy black ink. This is his, you realise, what he uses for his shoots. You feel your panties dampening between your legs as he rifles around.

When he turns back around, you recoil slightly, recognising the buckled contraption he comes up with. A ball gag. He smiles wickedly at your reaction, standing over you and running his hand through your hair, combing it back from your face. “This is a good thing, little mouse,” he explains, tapping your lips twice to indicate to widen your jaw. You obey in a daze, feeling the sphere of unforgiving black plastic fill the front half of your mouth, your teeth keeping it in place. “Now you won’t be tempted to run your mouth. Isn’t that thoughtful of me?” You glare up at him as the straps wrap around your skull, his deft fingers tightening the buckle just enough so you can’t spit the ball out. Your breath comes through your nose now, huffing at him.

He chuckles, crouching in front of you. It’s overwhelming, suddenly having his face so close again. The perfect swells of his cheekbones, the sculpted brows and intelligent eyes so intensely locked onto yours. “You can’t speak now, little mouse. So your safeword is going to be non-verbal. Click your fingers once for yellow, and over and over as much as you can for red. Okay? Click now so I know you can do it.”

You click your fingers, feeling your chest ease slightly with the reinforcement of your safety net. The moment you’re done, however, that warm concern vanishes, and he straightens up, turning away from you yet again.

“You’re lucky,” his voice announces, leaning over to dig in his box of tricks, “normally I’m not so generous. Normally I wouldn’t let you cum until you’d well and truly earned it. But those cries of yours on the Monday night…” He trails off, spinning back on his feet to face you, a pair of leather cuffs in his hand, unconnected with heavy duty silver loops dangling from them. His eyes pierce you with a hint of vulnerability that you don’t think he even realises he’s showing. “You drive me crazy, Y/n. I want to hear you cum over and over and over again for me.”

No matter how much your chest rises and falls, you feel breathless, eyes wide. Unable to verbally respond - though you don’t even know what you’d say - you just give him a pleading gaze, hips rocking against the bottoms of your feet in search of friction.

He lets out a breath, stepping forward. “Take off your robe,” he instructs with a rough voice. Your fingers fumble with the slack knot, hurriedly shedding it and tossing it away, leaving yourself in just the lingerie. “Fuck,” he says with a breathy chuckle, “you’re gonna be the death of me, little mouse. Wrists.”

You clench your teeth around the ball gag in a keen at his words, lifting your arms up to reach him.

One at a time, he fits on the leather cuffs. They’re relatively wide, though not too thick, and once he does up the buckle on each one you feel your eyes flutter. Something you’d never felt before but it’s divine, the way they wrap so snugly around your wrists, not only a physical anchor, but a reminder that you’re his, letting out a low moan when he slips a finger in one of the silver loops, tugging to ensure the fit.

Jimin’s lip twitches at your reaction, and instead of telling you to stand, he uses the hoops, pulling your wrists up by the cuffs until you stand to ease the pressure, stumbling slightly as you get off your knees without your hands to assist. He leads you to the head of the bed, where you see the two chains that wrap around the bars of the headboard.

“On,” he instructs, letting go so you can clamber up, sitting as you await further instruction. “On your back, darling,” he coos, pressing at your shoulder so your head rests back onto the pillow. Automatically, you lift your arms, pulling a smile from his lips as he loops the chains through the silver hoops of your cuffs, spreading your arms wide apart, knuckles brushing against the wood of the headboard.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he remarks teasingly before leaving you, retrieving a few things from the chest. You tug slightly at one of your cuffs, testing it, and muffle a groan at the feeling of being trapped, tied down and at his mercy.

When he returns, his hands are full, and he tosses the fruits of his labour on the bed beside your torso, getting up on the bed to sit between your legs. You gasp when he tugs your ankles firmly, making you slip down so that your arms are straight, less room to struggle. This way, too, you can barely crane your head up, chest blocking your few of the toys he’s brought over.

“Now,” he says with a patient sigh, fingering the hem of your panties, “let’s get rid of these, mm?” You lift your hips obediently when he goes to slip them down, curling your toes at the sudden cool air on your pussy. “Fuck, look at you,” he gushes lowly, his fingers running up and down your slit so light you can barely feel them, making you whimper. “So fucking wet, little mouse. I haven’t even touched you.”

You lift your head to moan at him, trying to get out your plea, though your words are unrecognisable through the ball gag.

He pouts teasingly, rubbing the flat of his palm over you, slicking up his hand. “Oh, poor baby. The mean old Jiminie kept teasing her, did he? Baby just wants to cum?”

You groan, eyes scrunching shut as you nod your head. Even the simple touch of his hand between your legs is so good you could cry.

You tremble when you feel two fingers slip inside your wetness, a tight fit but one that lets him in so smoothly with how much you’re soaked for him. He finds your g-spot with an almost supernatural ease, rubbing at it with the pads of his two fingers, curling inside you. You let out a strangled groan which makes him chuckle.

“I’m being generous now, aren’t I? Say thank you, Y/n.”

You sob. He knows full well you can’t speak, but you obey nonetheless, letting out an unintelligible garble of your thanks.

“Good girl,” he coos, and your legs fall apart wider in bliss as he begins an indulgent pace, the cool bands of his rings when they plunge inside you addictive. The second his thumb lifts up and begins rubbing at your clit, you’re already on the edge from being deprived so long, and you cum almost immediately, shuddering around his fingers at the deep but powerful satisfaction.

You come down from your high relatively quickly, but he’s already slipped his hand out, and you glance down in confusion, only to choke on a moan when you see him, tongue poking out slightly in focus as he uses your own slick to lube up a dildo, a powder pink silicone one that’s roughly the shape of a cock, but far smoother, getting wider at the bottom for a place to hold it.

Once he’s done, almost without acknowledging you, he grips your knee, making it bend and your leg lift higher up the bed, spreading you wider open for him, the other one still flat on the mattress, splayed wide.

“That was your warm-up, little mouse, I hope you enjoyed it,” Jimin remarks with a grin, and you breathe heavy around the gag, back arching as he presses the head of the dildo into you.

It’s far wider than his two fingers, and the stretch dumbs you, making your mind slow to a halt to appreciate every inch that fills you, dragging against your sensitised g-spot. Jimin’s knuckles bump your clit when he bottoms out, and you shiver, the dildo so deep inside you.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” he declares rhetorically with a wolfish grin, and once again your eyes squeeze shut when he begins a bruising pace, every strike spearing you open and making your eyes water. Your spine hitches as you writhe beneath him, but his grip on your bent leg is too strong, and no matter how hard you clench he drives the dildo so fully inside you that your mouth is slack, wide enough that your teeth don’t even clamp around the ball on your tongue. With an open mouth, more sound comes through, and you hear the room filling with the wet sound of him fucking you with the dildo, but also your own moans and hiccuped screams.

He fucks you to the edge faster than you can comprehend. There’s so much pleasure on every stroke, and he’s using so much speed that it feels like you can’t take it, like you might explode, but still he pins you down, letting you yank at the cuffs that bind you as you’re forced to cum violently around it, thigh muscles clenching as you try to clamp your legs around the intrusion.

“Fuck, that’s it, don’t stop cumming,” you hear him growl, and you sob with pleasure as your orgasm morphs quickly into oversensitivity, but Jimin never lets up for a second.

Your eyes water, tears slipping down over your temples as he continues to fuck you, and suddenly you no longer feel his hand on your leg, it flopping down weakly as fingers tap over your hand.

“Don’t forget the signal,” he instructs as you sob and writhe, “I’m not fucking stopping without it.”

It takes you a moment to process that he’s asking about the safeword, but as overwhelmed as you are, you don’t want him to stop. “Hngingn,” you cry, his name coming out jumbled through the ball gag, and your legs automatically lock around his hand, seeking to stop the roughly thrusting dildo, but his spare hand just rips your legs away, one of his jean-clad knees pinning down your shin and your screams reach a new pitch when you feel fingers strumming at your clit, the pleasure like a million needles, making your hands fist.

After an eternity of going crazy with overstimulation, you pass a bend. The pain turns back into pleasure, and you settle, going quiet and shifting slightly to seek it out, eyes rolling at the rhythmic rocking of your hips as he fucks you with the dildo.

“That’s it,” Jimin guides, breathless with exertion, “I want you to cum again, little mouse. Clench tight for me.”

You do as he says, eyes so blurry you can’t even see anything but the patch of blue in your vision, his head bobbing slightly as he speaks.

Without thinking, you follow his instructions, and like clockwork a third orgasm rips through you, taking you by surprise as the extra pressure of the dildo on your g-spot plunges you over the edge. You hadn’t even realised you were close, but clearly Jimin had, and you tremble beneath him, letting the waves of pleasure flood to every corner and crevice of your body, your fists tightening and your toes curling. You weep openly at how good it feels, whimpering when his fingers on your clit stop and the dildo slows, slipping out of you one last time with a slick noise.

You’re sweating, twitching, trembling, but still you manage to blink away your tears and focus on him blearily as you feel him removing the ball gag from around your head, fingers gentle as they massage your jaw slightly, letting you close it and lick your lips, feeling the ache.

“Did so well,” he praises, and you pant happily, a lazy smile stretching out on your face as your tears begin to dry. The sound of a zip makes you frown, so you glance down to see Jimin already fisting his own cock, just as red and needy as the last time you’d seen it. You whimper as he shuffles forward, lifting your legs up into the air to spread you wide for him.

Almost forgetting you can speak now, you whimper wordlessly for a few moments, before making out a weak, “Jimin,” tone pleading.

“Shh,” he coos, his cockhead tapping at your drenched entrance, making you shiver. “One more, little mouse.”

“I can’t,” you sob, chest hitching as he slips into you, just bigger than the dildo. You let out a reedy cry at how he strikes you’re abused g-spot, and his fingers massage the backs of your thighs soothingly.

“You can,” Jimin insists, fucking into you slowly, making you hiss every time, “just one more for me. You have your word.”

You sob at the overstimulating madness as his pace picks up, driving so intensely inside of you, but you don’t use the safeword. There’s a kind of euphoria bliss to being stretched to your limits, pushed so far, and you trust him to take care of you, want to do a good job for him.

So you shake your head, moans blending into cries blending into whimpers. “Fuh-fuck,” you gasp as once more sharp stimulation turns warm again, and you near a fourth orgasm. You shiver under Jimin, his thrusts so deft and powerful, jerking your body in rhythm. “I ca- I can’t cum again,” you admit shakily, “’s too much, Jimin, I can’t take it!”

Jimin grunts with the force of his thrusts, but his hands are gentle as they keep your legs spread. “You’re almost there, little mouse, you’re doing so well.”

Your back arches violently when he drops one of your legs to rub at your clit, fresh tears streaming into your hairline. “Fuck, oh god, I’m gonna- fuck!”

You stream as your final orgasm takes you like a train, and a feeling you’ve never experienced rushes through you as you squirt, thighs clamping iron tight around his hips as he curses at the sight and spills into your trembling body.

Even in the throes of his own orgasm, you feel Jimin’s hands pass up and begin releasing you from the headboard, your arms falling limply as he cups your face, barely even rocking into you as every slight movement plunges you into oversensitivity.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath with closed eyes as this thumbs brush away your tears, his cum hot inside you.

“God, Y/n, you were amazing, did so well for me,” he confesses lowly in your ear, and you let out a whimper as he presses a single kiss to your cheek, the most tender he’s been with you so far.

“Did well,” you repeat mindlessly, “Jiminnie.”

“You did,” he promises, and you hiss as he pulls himself out of you carefully, the feeling of his seed mixed with your own cum flooding out down onto the sheets. “God, look at you,” Jimin muses under his breath, surely not meant for you to hear.

Barely conscious, your eyes flutter, and the last thing you remember seeing is him stripping off his expensive white cotton blouse, cleaning you up with it so gently that you barely feel the sting on your clit.

Chapter Text

The bed is cold when you awake. You weren’t sure if you were expecting to see a peacefully sleeping, bare-faced Jimin beside you, but still you’re a little disappointed when your hand feels only rumpled sheets.

The nightstand has a glass of water and a sheet of pain meds, and you sit up with a groan, sipping at the cool liquid. Surprisingly, you don’t have a headache, and the ache between your legs is welcomed and tolerable, so you leave the pills where they are, noticing a small handwritten note on a sheet of thick notepaper.

Good morning.
I hope you slept well, I thoroughly enjoyed your company last night, little mouse. I’m getting ready for our meeting downstairs, I suggest you do the same.
-J

You smile at it, glancing over to the bathroom door, shut and most likely locked. No biggie; his note was right, you really should go get ready.

You dress in a daze, not bothering to shower with only half an hour before the meeting was to start.

The seventh day… It really didn’t seem like it had been that long, though simultaneously it feels like it’s been weeks since you met the seven men you were living with. As you join the expectant huddle in the kitchen and lounge, you realise that today is the last day you’ll be spending with all seven. It felt too short, too cruel. You’d gotten on with them all better than you’d honestly expected before arriving, and the decision on your hands sits heavy.

Luckily, the first reveal is a little less painful, and you’re curious to see how the audience has been feeling about the guys so far. You have no idea how you would vote for your favourite if you had to, so it’s a relief that it’s up to the nameless public.

Accepting a coffee that Yoongi automatically slides over to you when you greet him, you make your way to the couches, sitting beside Jin. Taehyung, Jungkook and Hoseok are chattering away, but otherwise it’s relatively quiet, and you take the early morning calm to think over each one of them.

Jin comes to your mind first. Fitting, since he’d been the first one to approach you. You’d made a connection with him early on; something about his calming and level-headed presence really drew you in. Even now, you find yourself leaning towards him, and you sigh out in content when his arm wraps around you wordlessly, tugging you into his side.

The atmosphere changed a lot throughout the week, but Jin- Jin was consistency and reliability and an anchor in the uncertainty. Even his warmth on your side soothes your heart. It feels natural being near him, and you can’t help but wonder how, or even if that translates to the cameras.

Across from you on the other couch, Jungkook’s face is toothy with a grin, nose scrunched as Hoseok chatters away, the youngest contestant squeezing his hands into fists as he laughs openly.

What definitely must come across on camera is Jungkook’s energy. Whether it’s lifting weights, or watching TV, or helping in the kitchen, or eating you out in the kitchen - Jungkook does everything with a genuine passion that’s infectious. He interacts so well with the other members of the house, instantly likeable, and you find yourself getting a soft spot for him too.

Beside him, Taehyung glances back and forth between his fellow Gentlemen with a passive grin as he listens. Always so invested and giving, the second-youngest sometimes feels like the glue of the household. Perhaps it’s the honest care and attention he seems to have in spades, but it’s impossible not to immediately trust him. You’re fond of the masseuse, his hands as well as his heart.

Hoseok, as usual, is the loudest one in the room, and it’s strange how you’ve all quickly grown used to the volume. Things feel lively, conversation never dies. He’s a ray of sunshine all the time, which only makes that dominant Master personality you’d witnessed so much more fascinating and potent. More than anything, the way he acted after you’d grown panicked really improved your opinion of him and your trust in him, and you wanted to try jumping into the deep end again, knowing he was well equipped to catch you.

On (probably self-assigned) coffee duty, Yoongi instructs Namjoon on how to work the machine, leaning back with a proud smile that exposes his gums. One of the two pillars of the group alongside Jin, Yoongi has a patience that seems endless, and behind a sometimes-indifferent exterior is a true heart. You see it in times like this - the doctor is always prepared to give his time to teach or just be there for anyone in the house. Non-judgemental but unfailingly honest, you value Yoongi so much, and his place in the house just feels so needed. Selfishly, you can’t help but remember the time you shared with him and Jin, and want it all to himself, want his attention on you and you alone.

Namjoon himself is smiling, a focused quirk of his parted lips as he maneuvers the machine, pressing each button decisively - after the green light from his hyung. Namjoon takes everything so seriously. Not in a way that makes him pessimistic or boring, but on the contrary in a way that’s so endearing. He just cares so much, for plants and humans and machines and facts and everything under the sun. Nothing is unimportant to him, and you feel that every time you’re around him. You desperately want to see how that begins to pan out in more sexual pursuits now that he’s passed a pretty huge milestone.

The thud of the stairs and melodic whimper of Jimin stretching as he enters the room catches your attention, and you watch him as he grabs a coffee, drinking it in the kitchen as he continues to roll his joints one at a time. The pornstar was a bit of an enigma. He seemed so intimidating at the start, and as much as that turned you on, the cracks in his facade were what caught your attention. It’s been rewarding to see him open up slowly, and you think this little rag-tag group is good for him. Still, you’re more focused on what’s good for you, and the memories of last night flood you, unbidden.

All seven had so much going for them, all seven truly belonged in the house, and you hate that for one of them, it’s their last 24 hours. You have no idea who that person will even be, no idea how you’re supposed to choose.

You sigh again, this time a little morose, and Jin, with his arm around you, picks up on the change.

“Feeling blue?” he asks lightly, thumb rubbing your clothed shoulder, the regular motion still soothing you.

You hum. “This time tomorrow I’ll be making one of you pack your bags.”

“Mm. Tomorrow,” Jin repeats easily. “We’re all here today. That’s something to feel good about. Cheer up, little one.”

Your heart warms at his words, and as you sip at your coffee, the heat spreads through you. “You’re right. Thanks, Jin.”

“Anytime.” He pauses for a moment, no doubt scanning over the others just like you. “Which one of these jokers do you think will get the viewer’s vote?”

You chuckle, shoulders jerking under his embrace. “Maybe it’s you,” you point out, but the eldest only lets out a noise of disapproval at the idea.

“I certainly hope not,” Jin says decisively, “if you get the top vote in the first week it’s only downhill from there.”

You laugh then, loud enough to catch the others’ attention, and your cheeks warm at the way Jin puffs his chest proudly at your reaction. “I hope it’s you,” you retort, “just to see the look on your face.”

“It’ll probably look a little something like this,” he announces, turning to you to pull a faux expression of shock, eyes and mouth wide and rounded. You start laughing again, your coffee sloshing dangerously in your mug. “It needs a bit of work,” Jin admits with a playful shrug.

Mouth already open to reply, your attention gets caught by an eighth figure entering.

His presence is immediately announced by the whooping cheers of the boys on the opposite couch.

“We missed you!” Taehyung chimes warmly, and you don’t doubt he’s telling the truth.

Sejin, one of the main producers on the show and your glorified babysitter, chuckles at the enthusiasm. “I live literally fifteen metres from the front door.”

“How was traffic?” Yoongi quips, his voice closer as he takes a seat beside you, Namjoon and Jimin choosing to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of your couch.

“Very funny,” Sejin says monotonously, but he sends Yoongi a bemused grin, the younger looking proud of himself. “Anyways, thank you for your punctuality and welcome to your first Sunday meeting. I hope you’ve had a good week and gotten comfortable with each other. You certainly look less awkward than you did on Monday.”

Most of you let out a chuckle at that, but Jungkook’s eyes are wide, glancing between you and the producer. “Are you sending one of us home already?”

Sejin looks pained. “Elimination is tomorrow, Jungkook, not-” He bites his tongue, takes a steadying breath and claps his hands once, looking over all of you. “Let’s recap, then. Every Monday, one of you will get eliminated according to Y/n’s choice, and those remaining will select prompts for the week ahead. Every Sunday, I’ll reveal the audience vote for the favourite of the week, and one by one you’ll reveal your prompt to the group and we’ll see who passed and who failed. If you fail, you spend a week in the room with the bunk beds instead of your private room. Questions before we start?”

Jin lifts his hand off your shoulder to raise a single finger in the air. Sejin nods at him. “I put paring knife on the grocery list and yo-”

“Okay, no,” Sejin cuts off swiftly, “I am not having this discussion, this meeting is about-”

“You didn’t answer my texts either,” Jin interrupts, pouting. “What if it had been an emergency?”

Sejin huffs in exasperation. “Just use another knife to-” He pauses, lips moving. “-to pare.”

Jin’s back stiffens. “I hope you enjoy takeaways because you won’t be getting any leftovers with that attitude.”

Sejin presses his lips together, staring at Jin.

Jin stares back.

“We’ll get you the paring knife,” Sejin eventually mutters under his breath, “let’s just get to business, okay?”

Pleased, Jin nods, and with a sigh of relief Sejin steps forward, sitting on the side of the coffee table that faces you all.

“So; the audience have been watching raptly, we actually broke 500k total views this week alone.”

Your mouth drops open at the number. It seems fake to you, and it’s clear that most of the others are just as surprised. Not Jungkook and Jimin, though. They simply nod like it’s expected, content but not shocked like you are.

“And we had over ten thousand votes come in in the past forty-eight hours on the website and a Twitter poll we held. I’m not sure how active you all are on Twitter but I highly encourage you to check it out. This show has got quite the following already. Now; the results.”

Everyone perks up in their seats, glancing around the room.

“I won’t say them all, but I’ll say the top three since it was pretty close. In third place, Hoseok.”

The professional dom seems genuinely surprised, and after Jungkook and Taehyung happily jostle his shoulders, he lets out an excited squeal, eyes finding Jimin, who’s biting on his tongue and working hard to ignore them.

“In second place,” Sejin continues, “Namjoon.”

Your mouth drops open, a broad grin as Namjoon does a double-take at the news. Both you and Jimin reach out for the academic; Jimin patting his shoulder warmly and you ruffling his purple locks, cheering him on.

“Wh- I don’t- I-” Namjoon stutters, laughing cutely in disbelief. “I didn’t even do anything, Y/n just- Are you sure?”

Sejin shrugs. “Your story is relatable for a lot of people, Namjoon. I think you have a lot of fans rooting for you.”

Namjoon blushes, leaning into your touch. You continue running your fingers through his hair absentmindedly as Sejin calls for attention again.

“The first place actually only won by a single percent, it was a very close race,” Sejin explains to Namjoon’s complete bewilderment, “but the winner of the audience fan favourite for Week 1, and as such the winner of a special prize that I’ll announce in just a moment, is… Jimin!”

Jimin’s head ducks at the news, but you can see the broad smile that tugs at his lips.

“Congrats, hyung,” Jungkook offers up brightly, though his smile is strained with the disappointment of not winning. Always competitive, you imagine he feels frustrated at not being in the top three, and your heart goes out to him. Taehyung is quieter than usual but doesn’t seem too bothered, and on either side of you the oldest aren’t surprised at all.

Jimin glances up again, still smiling warmly. “Thank you, Producer.”

“No surprises there,” Hoseok says with a sigh, looking put-out at being bested. “Good job, everyone. What’s the prize; a gold-plated trophy with his name on it?”

Jimin huffs, smile dropping. “We’re both on the podium, Hoseok, just be grateful you got the bronze.”

Sejin, stiffening at the tension between the two, clears his throat. “Anyway! The prize isn’t a physical object. Jimin, as the winner this week, you’ve earned an evening outside of the villa with Y/n.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait, really? Where do we go?”

“Wherever Jimin wants,” Sejin explains. “We’ll arrange an Uber and you’re allowed to do whatever you’d like, as long as you return to the house before midnight. Using your own money, of course. I’m afraid the last of our show budget might be blown on paring knives.” Sejin deadens a look at Jin with those words, the eldest contestant simply turning up his nose and shrugging. “But yes. Congratulations, Jimin, the car will be here at seven in the evening tonight.”

You stare down at Jimin as he cocks his head, twisting around to send you a grin. “Lucky me,” he says with a lilt, eyes sparkling before he turns around to face the front.

Feeling eyes on you, you glance up. Namjoon still looks just happy to be in second place, and Hoseok and Jungkook are drowning their miseries with physical affection, hugging tightly, but Taehyung is watching the two of you with sad brown eyes. You feel the words I’m sorry form on the tip of your tongue and bite down on it to keep quiet.

Sejin clears his throat once more, drawing back your attention. “The second half of this meeting is to reveal your prompts to the group, and whether you fulfilled them or not. We’ll go in order of age. Y/n, I’d like you to try and guess them. Jin?”

You hum, turning around on the couch to face him. “I assume yours was my bedroom?”

Jin laughs lightly. “Well, it just said ‘bedroom’. But yes.”

“Congratulations, Jin, you successfully completed your prompt. Yoongi?”

You bite your lip at this one. “Bedroom as well?”

Sejin shakes his head. “No double-ups.”

“Then, the lounge?”

“No,” Yoongi reveals, “though I suppose it’s not as straightforward. My prompt was multiple rooms.”

You think back to it, to Yoongi offering for you to go upstairs to Jin’s room. You glance between the two accusingly. “Did you plan it, then?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open. “What is it and where can I get some?”

“No, actually,” Yoongi continues, ignoring the youngest. “That just ended up working well. All going well, I was going to take you up to my room.”

“Either way, congratulations Yoongi, you also successfully completed your prompt. Next is Hoseok.”

“The confessional booth,” you answer with a wry grin, recalling how he himself had spoiled it.

Hoseok’s eyes are towards the ceiling, cheeks bright red. “Correct,” he admits.

“Unfortunately,” Sejin says, voice teeming as he holds back a laugh, “you broke the rules and told Y/n your prompt, so it doesn’t count. You’ll be sleeping in the bunk bed room for the next week.”

Hoseok huffs, then freezes. “Wait,” he says slowly, “so I wouldn’t fail if she found out, only because I told her?”

“I’m sorry, Hoseok,” Sejin replies, “the rules are if you intentionally reveal your prompt, you fail it. If she’d just guessed and you stayed silent, you would’ve passed.”

Taehyung frowns up at Sejin. “But that’s not fair,” he protests, “hyung can’t lie!”

“I can,” Hoseok says awkwardly, “so. I can so!”

Sejin chuckles in bemusement. “Rules are rules, I’m afraid. Now; Namjoon.”

“Namjoonie’s was the outdoors,” you say confidently, hands still playing with his hair, “but that’s okay. We had fun inside, instead.”

Namjoon goes red, but you don’t miss the way his chest puffs with pride.

Hoseok sends him a sympathetic smile. “Top or bottom, Namjoon?”

“I think that’s a little personal,” Namjoon replies stiffly, “and we didn’t even-”

“I meant the bunks, you horndog,” Hoseok says with a chuckle. Namjoon relaxes. Giving a decisive nod, Hoseok mumbles under his breath. “I already know you top.”

“Hey,” Namjoon whines, “I told you that in confidence!”

“I’d be confident too, if I had three legs,” Hoseok answers blithely, his lip twitching at the noise of outrage and confusion that builds up across everyone in the room, Namjoon burying his face in his hands with a loud shout of embarrassment.

Guys!” Sejin calls out over the chaos. “We still have three to go, can you please stay focused?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook pitches in with a pout, “I can’t stay much longer, could we please hurry up?”

“Jimin’s prompt is next,” Sejin points out once the volume goes back to normal, his face stricken with the energy it takes to look after a house full of horny young adults.

You frown at this one. Sejin said no double-ups, but he only spanked you in the kitchen, fucked you in the bedroom and- “Oh! Laundry room.”

Jungkook recoils. “What did you do in the laundry room? If I find out you touched my detergent, I’ll-”

“It wasn’t the laundry,” Jimin answers calmly. “It was the kitchen.”

“Yes, Jimin also successfully completed his prompt.”

You frown. “But Jungkook was the kitchen?”

“Wait, was I?” Jungkook answers automatically, rant cut off, before catching up with the conversation. “Oh, no, I wasn’t, actually. My prompt was a room with at least two other people present.”

Beside you, Jin laughs in exasperation. “God, I’m glad I didn’t get that one. Props to you, Kookie, you have balls.”

Jungkook preens at the praise, his earlier disappointment forgotten.

“Since more than two parties were present, Jungkook successfully completed his prompt. That leaves Taehyung.”

“Bathroom?” you question.

Taehyung is avoiding your gaze, eyes staring hard at the table like he’s trying to set it alight. “Yup,” he says shortly, wincing in anticipation.

You cock your head in confusion, glancing over to Sejin, who sighs. “Unfortunately, since it was not filmed, you failed the challenge.”

Taehyung sighs morosely, leaning back to collapse onto the back of the couch, throwing a hand over his eyes. “I didn’t know,” he frowns, “it didn’t specify.”

Hoseok, once defended by Taehyung, comes to the boy’s rescue. “I saw it too, his card just said 'bathroom!’”

“This is a porn show, Hoseok, we’re getting paid based on people actually seeing you. The bathroom they went into wasn’t filmed.”

Taehyung lifts his arm up. “We’ll keep that in mind for next time. But you didn’t tell us that was a rule, Sejin-sunbaenim. Can’t you let it slide just this once?”

Sejin slides, the honorific clearly buttering him up. “W- N-” He sighs. “You boys are going to be the death of me. Fine, I admit we didn’t specify which bathroom you had to use. But from now on, any prompts that aren’t filmed are a fail.”

Taehyung sits up again, boxy grin baring his teeth. “You’re the best! Thank you!”

Hoseok’s smile drops. “Wait… Now it’s just Namjoon and I in the bunk bed room. Dammit, Tae, I should’ve gotten you to stay with us!”

Namjoon, still cheery, smiles over at Hoseok. “It’ll be fun, hyung! Like a week-long sleepover!”

Hoseok returns the smile, opening his mouth to speak, but Jungkook cuts him off, jumping up off the couch.

“This has been fun,” he says in a rush, “but I’ve gotta go.” The rest of you stare in confusion as he rushes off, bare feet almost silent as he springs up the stairs two at a time.

“…Right,” Sejin says after a moment, “I- Well, I guess that was all I had to say. Just a reminder, elimination voting and drawing of new prompts is tomorrow at 9am sharp, so don’t be late. It’s not exactly like you have anywhere else to be.” He sends a confused stare at the seat that Jungkook had recently vacated, and sighs. “Meeting adjourned.”

After Sejin’s left - narrowly avoiding another shopping-list confrontation with Seokjin, the seven of you remain lazing on the couches, Hoseok yawning wide enough you see his molars.

“What was Jungkookie in such a rush for?” you question. “It’s a Sunday morning, and we’re all stuck in the house anyway.”

Most of the other guys shrug or hum noncommittally, but Taehyung sucks in a breath, eyebrows lifting. “Oh. Sunday morning,” he repeats meaningfully. Namjoon glances up with wide eyes at Taehyung, and the younger nods with a grin, scanning the room. “Anyone up for a stream party?”

You frown. “A what?”

“Ah,” Yoongi murmurs from beside you. “I guess Jungkook isn’t quitting his day job. What time does he normally go live, Taehyung? Let’s go pop some popcorn and make drinks.”

Realisation makes your jaw drop open. Jungkook must be getting ready for a camming stream. The thought of what he could be doing in his room above you all makes a shot of excitement rush through you, heating your core. “We’re all gonna watch it?”

“Well, if you don’t,” Taehyung explains breezily, “Namjoon and I still will. Loyal fanboys, right, Joonie?”

Namjoon blushes, but he doesn’t seem as ashamed by it as he was at the start of the week. “We can watch it in our rooms if you aren’t comfortable-”

“Oh, we’re watching it,” Yoongi insists, sitting up off the couch and making his way to the kitchen. “What the fuck else are we going to achieve knowing he’s jerking off in the same house as us? I’m going to celebrate the occasion with some nice Merlot. Anyone joining me?”

“We can’t drink at ten in the morning, surely,” Hoseok frowns, though his eyes light up in interest at the suggestion.

“Why not?” Yoongi calls out, carrying some wine glasses over by the stems, clinking enticingly. “Listen, the more we spend in this house, you’ll realise that time doesn’t matter when you can’t even leave. There’s no reason I can’t enjoy a nice drink just because it isn’t dark outside. How long do we have, Tae?”

Taehyung consults his phone for the time. “It’s only three minutes to ten, he’ll go live on the dot.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Is there soju, hyung?”

Yoongi hums in confirmation, voice distant as he consults the walk-in pantry, announcing loudly to be heard from the couches. “We have a fuckton of the original, and some flavoured ones. Green grape, citrus,  peach. What do you want?”

“Peach!” Taehyung yells out immediately.

“Make that two,” you add. “Fuck it; why not?”

“Could you bring over a green grape too, please, hyung?” Jimin calls out casually, making the rest of you pause.

Yoongi’s head pops out around the corner of the pantry, eyes wide before a proud smile lights up his face at the term of endearment. “My pleasure.”

By the time everyone’s put in their requests, Yoongi’s done two trips, the coffee table filled with bottles of various sizes, different snacks, and a precariously leaning stack of shot glasses.

His timing is perfect. Just as he sits down with a sigh, popping the cork out of his bottle of wine with a flourish, both Namjoon and Taehyung’s phones go off in unison. Taehyung gasps, rushing to connect his phone to the television for streaming, but Namjoon bites his lip, fiddling with his phone.

“Do you think we should ask him?” the academic questions uncertainly. “If he’s okay with us watching, I mean?”

“Oh, Namjoon-hyung,” Jimin drawls, voice honeyed, “we’re pornstars. People watching is the whole point.”

You frown down at him as he casually uncaps his bottle of soju, pouring a perfect shot. Namjoon-hyung. You remember him calling the older man Namjoonie on several occasions before, so why the honorific now? But Namjoon smiles warmly, their eyes connecting like they’re sharing a secret, a silent understanding. Your mind thinks back to Jimin at the breakfast table, how quickly his behaviour changed with Namjoon’s final comments in French. A secret, indeed. You wish you could speak French to understand exactly what had gone down. Either way, it warms your heart to see them sitting side-by-side on the floor, without a lick of hard feelings. They seemed like good influences on each other.

You pat Namjoon’s shoulder and get him to pass you a bottle of peach soju. Taehyung, mouth dangling in focus as the TV connects, the broad toothy smile of Jungkook in full HD as he leans in close to the camera, face taking up most of the frame. He blinks cutely as he reads the comments, lips moving.

“It’s muted,” Yoongi points out, pouring his drink almost to the brim and sipping at the side.

“Just a sec,” Taehyung mumbles absentmindedly, fiddling with the remote until the sound of Jungkook giggling fills the room.

“That’s crazy!” the Jungkook on TV chirps, leaning in even further to read. With the setting Taehyung is streaming on, you can see a slightly transparent outline of comments rushing by, fast enough that you can barely pick out a few words at a time. Jungkook, eyes shaking to catch them, is clearly used to this. “We’re at five thousand already, everyone, it’s going up so fast!” He pauses, lip twitching as he reads. “I missed you too,” he answers, and the genuine tone of his voice warms your heart. You can see why his viewers develop such a connection.

“When is it gonna get good?” Hoseok huffs. “I was gonna play Animal Crossing today.”

“Feel free to leave,” Jimin offers plainly.

Hoseok pouts stiffly. “But then I’d miss out.”

Jimin tuts, his bottle of soju already on its last legs somehow, though you hadn’t noticed him taking shots. “A shame.”

Taehyung chin is somehow wet with soju, a small puddle around his shot glass, and he wipes it with his sleeve. “Guys, is’gonna be a good one,” he slurs, clearly already tipsy.

Hoseok sips at his low-percentage bottle of beer, cheeks slowly flushing. “How long does he chat for, Tae?”

Yoongi cuts in, shushing everyone as he points at the TV with a half-full glass of red wine. On the screen, Jungkook is holding up the undeniable shape of a butt plug, black silicone with a ring at one end for easy maneuvering. Everyone falls silent, eyes locked on Jungkook as he explains the plan for the stream.

“…myself, so I’m super excited. Remember last week I said I wouldn’t cum all week? It was hard, you guys, I’m on this show where we’re meant to show off how good we are in bed, and I couldn’t even fuck Y/n.” Your cheeks flush once he mentions you, the memory of him on his knees in the kitchen, face buried enthusiastically between your thighs. Or perhaps it’s just the alcohol. You take another gulp of peach soju, the warmth in your throat soothing you. Jungkook’s paused to read comments, and his mouth drops open as he sees one of interest. “Oh! Are you guys watching? It’s really fun actually, everyone’s so- Oh wow, there’s forty eight…thousand viewers, that can’t be right… Fifty thousand….”

The look of joy and surprise on his face is sweet, and you almost forget the context, he looks so innocent. “Should we get started? This is a fun one, guys, it’s remote-controlled, see?”

Your mouth drops open, the alcohol in your system making your reaction unfiltered as he holds up the black plug, switching it on with a small handheld remote and showing the way it moves, the tip actually rotating slightly as it vibrates.

“It was expensive, too, so a big thanks to sweetandsaltykisses for sending it to my PO Box. I’ve been looking forward to trying it out.” Jungkook, as he sits on his bed, looks completely at ease on camera. Even as he giggles and chats away, he still oozes this underlying confidence, and it makes your core throb with need. “I need to be quiet though, the others are downstairs.”

Yoongi lets out a low breath. “Fuck.” Just then, Jungkook sits back, revealing that he’s not wearing any pants below his baggy black hoodie. “Fuck,” Yoongi repeats, making you chuckle.

Jungkook leans back, biting his lip as he runs his hands lightly up his bare thighs. “I’ve wanted to cum all week,” he admits with a sigh, shivering when he slips up his hoodie to reveal an already-erect cock that twitches when it touches open air. He lets out a low breath, gripping himself at the base with two fingers and a thumb, rocking it in the air a bit.

The room feels hot. No doubt it’s partly due to the alcohol running through your veins - you take another swig, hoping to soothe your dry mouth - but a deeper note fills the air too. Arousal.

Last time you’d gathered to watch a video of Jungkook, there were fewer of you, and it hadn’t been live. The knowledge that Jungkook is in his room like this right now has everyone shifting in their seats. Even Jimin looks more debauched than usual, knuckles white as they grip a bowl of popcorn, not even eating any.

The room is almost silent as Jungkook readjusts his position, no longer sitting on the edge, but instead with his knees up on the bed, side-on to the live camera.

He bends forward, the hem of the hoodie rucking up his back to pool where it arches, exposing his ass.

You bite your lip at the expanse of skin, smooth but corded with muscle.

Jungkook uncaps a bottle of lube with his teeth, eyes already lidded as he pours some onto the toy, spreading it with his fingers. "We’re gonna play a game,” he explains with a pleasured sigh, using the lube still on his fingers to reach back and dip inside himself, starting with two straight away. “I’ll hold the remote, and follow the instructions you guys give me. There are twelve settings, so type out a number and I’ll put it on that setting. Okay?”

He chuckles lowly at the way the chat speeds up impossibly at the thought of taking control, several chimes echoing as fans tip him.

You’re taken by the way his jaw slackens with pleasure as he grinds his hips back on his two fingers, groaning with parted lips. “So good,” he confesses, “fuck, I’m gonna put it in, I’m not gonna last.”

Slipping his fingers out, he props himself up with one arm and lines up the blunted point of the black plug with the other. It’s not overly long; growing thicker in the middle and tapering just before the silver base, presumably so it’s easier to keep in, and the seven of you watch, rapt, as he presses it in, moaning indulgently when it breaches that widest point and sinks in to the ring, his hips lowering as he adjusts to the feeling.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, and you’re inclined to agree. The heat between your legs is unbearable as he drops a leg, turning back to his front, exposing his cock and the sinful sight of a silver circle nestled between his muscular cheeks. He grabs the remote and flicks the camera a wink, sending a shiver down your spine. “Let’s start low. Maybe 4?”

You swear you could hear a pin drop. Everyone in the room has gone still, eyes blazing and ears straining. Beside you, you feel Yoongi shift, palming himself with an almost inaudible sigh of relief.

You can recognise the moment Jungkook flicks the switch by the way his brows lift and his jaw drops, a hand reaching down to grip violently at his inner thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” he curses lowly, cock twitching up against the fabric of the hoodie, “so good. I thi- I think I can cum untouched if you let me turn it up high enough.”

There isn’t enough oxygen in the room. Your cheeks are blazing hot, and as you go to put your now-empty peach soju on the coffee table, reaching between Jimin and Namjoon, you hear a husky giggle.

“You’re so hard, hyung,” Taehyung’s voice remarks in delight.

“Tae, I- god,” it’s Hoseok that answers him, and as you sit back down to glance over to see Taehyung slumped down onto the floor. That on its own isn’t a point of interest - he had always preferred sitting on the floor - but what does catch your attention is the single finger he’s running over the undeniable outline of Hoseok’s cock, hard in his jeans.

“Are you guys for real?” Jin asks, but his voice is gravelly with arousal, and there’s no bite to it.

Hoseok, cheeks hot but eyes hotter, runs a hand through Taehyung’s hair, tugging slightly at the permed locks. “We’re on a porn show, Jin-hyung, why the fuck not?”

Interrupting the two of them is the on-screen Jungkook, letting out a muffled but nonetheless loud moan, abdominals clenching as he raises the dial. In your distraction, he’s made progress; now his stomach is revealed, the hem of his hoodie jammed between his teeth as his brows knit in pleasure. Jungkook’s hand is between his legs, gripping desperately at the base of the plug and wiggling it inside himself, shallowly thrusting to make his eyes roll. Wordlessly, he lifts the remote up with a pleading gaze, and sobs when the comments tell him to turn it down.

His jaw goes slack as he obeys, wet mass of fabric falling from his lips. Jungkook’s eyes search just below the camera, reading comments that make him pout. “'Gotta be quiet, I know,” he murmurs, “I can take more, please.”

Taehyung, from where his head rests on Hoseok’s opposite knee, still lazily tracing the outline of his cock, sits up with a gasp. “I know!” he announces proudly. “Let’s go steal it.”

“Steal what?” Yoongi asks. “You wanna go up and rip the plug out of his asshole?”

“The remote,” Taehyung divulges with sparkling eyes. “I recognise that brand, the range is insane. Let’s go steal it, and then pass it around while we watch!”

A disbelieving laugh leaves your lips at his crackpot idea, but he’s already standing up, making Hoseok frown at the loss of contact.

“It’ll be great,” Taehyung insists one last time, and is off, rushing the stairs before anyone can protest.

“What the fuck,” Hoseok murmurs flatly, pressing onto his straining erection. “That little tease.”

Jimin muffles a laugh, mouth opening to retort before a sudden bang makes you all jump.

On-screen, the door to Jungkook’s room flies open, and a conniving Taehyung gives the poor camboy no chance to protest before the remote is being taken from his fingers.

“Wha-?” Jungkook questions belatedly, but Taehyung blows a kiss to the camera and shuts the door behind him, leaving Jungkook frozen in confusion. “Uh, s-sorry guys, that was one of the… the other Gentlemen. I don’t know what…?” Completely bewildered, it takes him off guard completely when the toy comes back to life inside of him, making him curl over with a strangled moan. “Fuck, he- god,” he babbles, legs parting and hips rocking into open air. “I’m sorry, everyone, he has the- oh! - the control now, he’s turning it up so fucking high, fuck!”

In the lounge, you all turn and stare as Taehyung runs down the stairs and into the room like he’s on fire, skidding to a halt and tossing the remote to Yoongi with a grin.

Yoongi catches it easily, even as he looks lost in confusion, but his gaze quickly darkens into arousal as he looks at the television, where Jungkook’s fingers are digging into the flesh of his thigh, down to the remote, and back to the television. You can just about see the cogs turning in Yoongi’s brain, before his finger slides the dial down to 2.

Jungkook slumps, biting his lip and rubbing his ass against the edge of the mattress, seeking the lost friction. “That asshole turned it down,” Jungkook whines, his pout deepening as he reads the comments. “You guys are mean! Don’t you wanna see me cum?”

Yoongi indulges the boy by turning it up to 4 for a few seconds, then back down. Jungkook’s eyes widen as he looks towards the camera. “Are you- Taehyung, are you watching?”

Yoongi huffs at the wrong name, flicking the vibrations up to an 8 in spite, hearing Jungkook shriek, jerking once. He moans, hand reaching towards his cock, but the second his fingers make contact, Yoongi turns the dial off.

As the Jungkook on-screen kicks his leg in frustration, fisting the sheets, you watch Yoongi. A smirk plays on his lips, probably subconscious as he toys - quite literally - with the camboy.

“Fine, I won’t touch myself,” Jungkook offers weakly, “please turn it back on.”

“Don’t be a hog, Yoongi,” Jin scolds, reaching across you to snatch the remote off the younger man, “Jungkookie deserves a good orgasm.”

The boy on camera tips his head back when Jin gradually raises the vibrations one level at a time. “Th-thank you, thank you, oh god,” he moans, hips rocking as the pleasure keeps increasing. “It’s moving so fas’ inside me, please more.”

Jin’s tongue dips out to wet his plush lips at the sight in front of him, and he willingly turns it up, gently raising the level to 9, 10, 11. The seven of you watch as Jungkook loses himself, collapsing against the sheets as he ruts his hips uselessly into the air, hand hovering close to his bobbing cock but not daring to touch.

“I- I think I’m close,” he confesses, voice distant as he leans back on the sheets, thigh muscles clenching.

“You’re being too good,” Jimin says lowly, turning around with a hand outstretched. “He needs to beg for it.”

Jin relinquishes the remote control with a curious glint, leaning back to let Jimin take over.

Instead of dropping it immediately, Jimin does the reverse of Jin’s method, simply lowering it one level at a time.

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to realise his orgasm is receding, and he palms at his cock frantically, forcefully removing his own hand with a frustrated groan. “Please, I was so close, don’t- put it back up, please, hyu-hyung,” he hiccups, sitting himself up.

Jimin rewards him with pausing the descent, awaiting further begging.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, his forehead glimmering with sweat. “I- you want me to beg for it?” His back straightens as Jimin raises it a level in the affirmative. “Oh, fuck, okay, I can-” he breaks off with a needy moan, and the sight of him is so erotic that you can’t help but shove a hand between your legs, just to put some pressure on your aching core.

Across the coffee table of abandoned drinks and snacks, Taehyung is back at Hoseok’s feet, and your mouth drops open as you watch Hoseok pull down his zipper with a lip bitten, reaching in to pull his cock out, as red as his face with the extra blood-flow. Taehyung is unabashed, mouth dropping open and tongue resting on his bottom lip as Hoseok fists his hair, tipping his head back slightly.

They don’t speak, don’t acknowledge anyone else as most people’s focus darts quickly between them and the screen.

With a moan that’s lost over Jungkook’s begging, Taehyung blinks up at Hoseok as the dom taps his cock against Taehyung’s lip, grinning as the boy chases the tip, shameless as he finally catches it with his tongue and sucks the head into his mouth, letting Hoseok’s hand in his hair guide him.

It’s a strange sense of deja vu, weirdly similar to what you and Namjoon had done just two days ago, and the thought makes you glance down below you to the virgin.

From above you can see the way his pants tent with his erection, eyes focused fully on the two men across the room, no doubt lost in memory too.

Back on the television, Jungkook is getting played deftly by Jimin, somehow fully naked now, legs parted obscenely, fingers in his own mouth even as he begs.

“-been so goo'for you, won’ you let me cum?” he slurs around his fingers, drool pooling on the digits. He cries out wantonly as Jimin raises it two levels, almost to back to the highest point. “Yes, fuck, thank you Tae-tae,” he cries.

Mercilessly, Jimin narrows his eyes and switches it down to a 1, barely anything.

Jungkook’s eyes widen in confusion as his legs snap together, like he can lock in the pleasure as it ebbs away. “Why did you-” like a wounded puppy, he whimpers, gasping when the realisation hits him. “Are you not Taehyung?”

Jimin gives him another level as an affirmative.

Jungkook’s chest heaves as he tries to think. “Hoseok-hyung?” He frowns when the level goes back down to a 1. “Y-Yoongi-hyung?”

Jimin turns the toy off completely, and Jungkook lets out a sob, falling to the mattress weakly. “I don’t care who it is,” he cries, comments on the video streaming by unread, almost as if Jungkook’s forgotten it’s a public stream. His legs kick out as he reaches down to press at the plug inside him, sniffling. “I just wanna cum, jus’ wanna cum, please!”

You bite down on your tongue, but without the normal filters that sobriety provide, you can’t resist standing up, ripping the remote from Jimin’s ringed fingers, and rushing away before he can protest, back up the stairs.

Jungkook’s had enough, and is it selfish if the reason you’re doing this is because you just want to see him fall apart already? Perhaps so, but you don’t bother knocking on Jungkook’s door, just turning the knob and rushing in, panting in your excitement.

“Y-Y/n?” he questions incredulously. “You were the one…?”

“No, it was Jimin,” you dismiss, glancing around the room quickly. Across from the sweat-soaked bed is a tripod, streaming camera set up and blinking red, with his laptop just below, displaying comments in a larger-than-normal font, much easier to read. Like Jungkook, though, you ignore them, the both of you much more concerned about each other. “I wanna make you cum,” you confess, blinking at the candor a single bottle of soju has given you.

“Fuck,” he whines, still fisting at the sheets, eying the remote in your hand. “Please.”

Wetting your lips, you turn the dial up to a solid 8, before chucking it away, it landing noiselessly on the carpet somewhere, his floor a mess of clothes.

Jungkook’s widen at your action, but the pleasure overcomes his high-strung body, and he falls back against the sheets, toes curling in need. The sight is pure pornography, and suddenly you become aware of the fact that you aren’t just watching; you can touch, too.

So you rush forward, jumping on the bed between his legs and wrapping both hands around his cock, jerking him off with brutal efficiency, impatient to see him finally fall apart.

It doesn’t take long. Finally resolving the need for friction on his cock, he gulps, moans, shivers, and goes tense, back arching prettily as he cums. You duck back when he does, shocked at the tall ropes of cum that arch in the air, pumping out of him an impossible amount. They spatter against his chest, some shooting out so high that they land on his chin and lower lip, making him stick out his tongue automatically as he moans through his orgasm, dick twitching in your grasp, still hard. The last of him doesn’t spurt out as high, and you feel it run down over the backs of your fingers, pooling at his base.

Once he lets out a hiss, fumbling for the still-vibrating plug and batting at your hands, you jump away to find the remote and switch it off.

It’s somehow gotten buried between a pair of sweatpants and a gym towel, but both look pretty clean, so you pause to lick the cum off your fingers first, moaning at the tang on your tongue, still warm. It’s bitter but not wholly unpleasant, and you suck off each finger, hearing him groan behind you at the sight. Once you can safely root around, you grab the remote and turn the dial swiftly down and off, chucking it on the bed instead.

Once you turn around, Jungkook’s managed to pull the plug out of himself, tossing it carelessly onto his desk, still slick with lube. His chest heaves, and he leans forward to read the comments that flow by, punctuated by the occasional ping of a tip.

Suddenly, some of your sobriety returns and with that, self-consciousness. Tens of thousands of people just watched you jerk Jungkook off, and here he was in a post-orgasm haze, going back to his day job like it was nothing.

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your welcome, you turn to leave. However, your hand barely makes it to the doorknob before Jungkook’s body presses against you, pinning you to the door.

No idea how he’d approached so silently - and how he’s so hard against your back so soon after cumming - you gasp, groaning when his hand finds your hair, collecting it into a rough handful and tugging back, pulling you against him fully.

“Did I say you could leave?” he asks lowly, his free arm snaking around your stomach, slowly walking you backward into the room.

You tremble, heat pooling into your legs at how quickly he’s switched into a more dominant persona, his strong frame bracketing you so fully, making you feel small in his embrace. “N-no,” you answer hesitantly.

“No, I didn’t,” Jungkook repeats in a growl. “So you are going to come and sit-” he breaks off to tug you down onto the mattress, falling backwards to land between his legs, directly in front of the streaming camera- “and stay here until I am done with you.”

Your breath is short, chest heaving as he holds you against him tightly. Even as you’re fully dressed and he’s naked against you, you feel entirely vulnerable. His hand in your hair, the camera’s impassive scrutiny as it streams, and the fact that you knew there were six particular men watching you from downstairs.

“How many of them are there, hm?” Jungkook inquires, breath hot on your ear. “Taehyung and who else?”

“A-all of them,” you confess in a small voice, neck arched back onto his shoulder.

You let out a strangled moan when the arm across your stomach shifts, Jungkook slipping his hand up underneath your shirt, deeply kneading at a breast. “I know our Taehyungie has an account; should we ask them what to do with you?”

His fingers are strong like iron, but the rough treatment just excites you further. “Y-yes,” you gasp out, feeling hot under your clothes. Your eyes dip to the comments, which fly past, so quick you can barely catch them. You notice, though, that some of them are coloured - most in black, regular viewers, but a select few are highlighted in bands of silver and gold.

It’s easier to read when you just let your eyes focus on the odd flick of colour, and you manage to catch a familiar name fly by, confirming they’re watching.

Jungkook clearly notices it and he chuckles, making you suck in a breath as he runs the tip of his nose up your neck, sensitive in your hyper state of arousal. “And there he is. Taebybaby, do you think we should free these sweet tits of hers?”

You whimper when Jungkook’s hand leaves your hair, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as the other is still kneading your breast. “Please,” you sigh out.

Jungkook’s answer is immediate, sharply flicking at your sensitive nipple with a single finger, drawing a cry from your throat. “I wasn’t asking you,” he chastises, teeth nipping at the skin of your throat enough to make you wince, though it doesn’t stop the heat rushing to your legs.

You blearily watch for another streak of gold with Taehyung’s reply. The thought of him now, consulting with the members, makes you shiver. Had he stopped sucking off Hoseok to answer, or had someone else picked up his phone instead? The uncertainty makes your imagination run wild, and you groan when the answer finally comes through.

taebybaby commented: show us

Without hesitation Jungkook is acting, quite literally ripping the thin cotton in two with two tugs, tossing off the shredded fabric and taking your shock as a chance to deftly unclasp your bra, leaving you topless in a matter of moments.

“Wha-?” Your protests of confusion are cut off by the heavenly feeling of hands on you. He cups both breasts in your hands, so large they cover you, nipples poking into the middle of his palms. You sigh in bliss, nerves tingling as he clutches at them, lifting them, rolling at the stiff peaks. Like he’s presenting them to the viewers, to the men downstairs, and the thought makes you tremble, wanting more. Like this, you can feel his bare chest against your back, and the unforgiving muscle makes you bite down on your lip to muffle a moan.

“Oh, you’re lucky, Y/n,” Jungkook announces with a low chuckle, “looks like the boys want to see your pretty little pussy, too.”

You swallow down the drool that gathers in your mouth at the thought of him finally touching you, willingly lifting your hips as he slides your pants down, panties going with them.

Completely bared, you suck in a breath when you feel his hardness against your ass, so close to where you need it. “Jungkookie,” you beg in a small voice, rocking your hips, “please touch me.”

You jump and legs clamp together when he levels another flick, this time right over your clit. The sudden spike of pain fades into burning need, though, and your legs fall open again, torso lax as you lean back onto him.

“I told you,” he tuts, “it isn’t up to you. You made me beg before; now you’re going to feel what it’s like to not be able to control your own pleasure. You better hope they’re feeling generous,” he adds rakishly.

You suck in a breath as Jungkook’s hands find the undersides of your knees, lifting them up and out, legs hooked on the outsides of his so that you’re pinned open. You tense naturally at the exposure, but you can’t close your legs without his moving, and he just chuckles at your feeble attempt.

Your hands fly down when you feel his fingers dancing lightly over the insides of your thighs, teasing. Gripping on the flesh of his thumb, his wrist, anywhere you can get a hold of to anchor yourself, Jungkook just tuts, smacking the backs of your hands once in warning.

“If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I will,” he threatens, continuing to lightly brush over your sensitive skin. To the camera, he raises his voice, thickened with power and lust. “Does she deserve to have her cunt touched?”

Your toes curl at the vulgarity of the question, but you force yourself not to beg for it, biting harshly on your tongue. Instead, your eyes find the flow of obscene comments, ignoring compliments and degradations alike and just waiting for a stripe of gold to indicate the guys downstairs had responded.

Your hands clench in open air as you wait, reaching behind you to grip onto the sheets to avoid the temptation of touching yourself or him. You don’t have to wait long.

With the chime of a tip, a comment appears on the bottom of the screen, staying longer on a timed box.

taebybaby tipped $50 and said: make her squirm

You choke on air, shivering at the thought. It didn’t sound like Taehyung, but it could be. He’d have that enthusiastic grin on his face as he typed it out, tipping so that his comment wouldn’t be missed.

But perhaps it was one of the harder doms. You could imagine Jimin’s stone-faced intensity, and Hoseok’s quirked brow. Maybe Namjoon, though you’d doubt he would forgo capitalisation and punctuation. Could Yoongi have written it? He’d tap it out like it was nothing, spending Taehyung’s money just to wind him up, but he’d play with his lips, legs spread to relieve the pressure between them. It could even be Jin, rapt as he watches your reaction on-screen.

It could be any of them; it might as well be all of them. The thought of that makes you squirm already.

“Oh, she likes that, doesn’t she?” Jungkook comments salaciously, and your breath hitches when he slides two fingers down, parting your lips and baring your pink centre to the camera, making you clench around nothing.

With his other hand, he lowers a single fingertip onto your exposed clit, keeping you spread as he drags it, slowly but so intensely, over the sensitive nerves.

Your thighs are tensed against his legs, wanting to move so badly, but you can’t. With his fingers pulling the hood back and keeping you bared, his touch is almost too much, too vivid to stand, and you sob, back arching.

By your neck, you feel the hot breath as he rests his chin on your shoulder to observe your reactions, and, seemingly unsatisfied, gives a sudden sharp flick to your clit.

You cry out, legs tightening even as they fail to close, and automatically you reach in to shove at him.

Hands,” Jungkook growls, and you sob as you reluctantly pull them away, knuckles whitening as you clutch at handfuls of the rumpled duvet. “That got you to squirm, hm?” He does it once more, his nail scratching ever so slightly, and you could sob, everything too much and too little and over too soon.

“I hope all the viewers at home are enjoying,” the camboy announces cheekily, going back to a slow drag over your sensitised clit. “Has she earned my cock yet, or just my fingers?”

“Juh-Jungkook,” you plead, unable to help yourself. Your hands find his, slipping between them to touch yourself needily, the way you would when you masturbate, the way you know you like.

You barely get a few delicious presses in before your hands are being ripped away, Jungkook holding them out in front of you as he drags his teeth down your neck harshly in reproach. You cry out, heels thumping uselessly at the side of the mattress as you’re unable to get any friction.

“I warned you about your hands,” he spits, clutching your wrists together with one iron grasp while the other hand roots around for your torn-up shirt.

He binds your wrists efficiently, not so tight that it hurts or digs in, but enough that you can barely wiggle them, and certainly can’t tug out of the binding.

“Let’s get these out of the way,” he states gruffly, and your eyes widen as he pulls them high up over your head, and back, so that when they rest, they’re snug against the back of his neck, his hair ticking your knuckles.

Like this, your back is arched, arms up and legs wide. With nothing more than his body and your own clothes, he’s successfully pinned you open for him and the camera, unable to do much more than squirm. You moan brokenly, and the camboy just grins wolfishly, running his splayed palms over your thighs, stomach, chest, free to touch every inch of skin he wanted to.

“Well, now I know you definitely haven’t earned my cock, hm? Naughty girl,” he chastises, though the humour in his voice and the stiffness pressing against you just confirm that he loves it. “I’ll give you my fingers, baby girl, but it’s up to the guys downstairs if you get to cum or not. How’s that?”

When you feel his pointer finger circling your entrance, your mind goes blank, willing for anything as long as it gives you pleasure. You nod shakily, fingers tugging at the ends of his hair in need.

A chime coming from the laptop catches your attention, and you glance down.

taebybaby tipped $50 and said: she can take two

taebybaby tipped $100 and said: she’s fucking dripping

You whimper, failing to close your thighs as you clench automatically at the comment, but Jungkook just hisses at the feeling of you twitching beneath his touch, and smoothly plunges two fingers inside you straight to the knuckle.

The feeling of his fingers finally entering you is euphoric, the intrusion unyielding as your hips rock uselessly and wrists tug at the shirt that binds you. He crooks them up inside you, rubbing at the spot that makes you twitch and attacking it with unforgiving thrusts. You cry out and writhe as much as you can as Jungkook draws your pleasure out from you skillfully.

It’s sinfully loud; your wanton moans mix with the sound of Jungkook fucking his fingers into your wetness. With the angle he’s at, the heel of his palm rubs at your clit on every downstroke, and the stimulation is so divine that you can’t help but let your head loll back limply, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dangling wide open.

His nose is nuzzling into the side of your throat again, seeking out your hammering pulse before he laps at it, grazing his teeth and sucking in a blossoming hickey, the lazy pace of his mouth on your neck at odds with the rapid pumping of his fingers.

A chime cuts through the pornographic sounds, and Jungkook’s mouth leaves you as he reads the comment, laughing through his nose at whatever it says.

“They want you to have another one, Y/n,” he conveys in a graveled tone, hand slowly to grind rather than thrust, “another finger in that greedy little cunt of yours.”

You clench around him at the words, making him laugh. “Wan’ it, Jungkookie,” you pant, and one he slips his soaked fingers out, beginning to press into you with three, you turn your head and hide your face in the crook of his neck as best you can.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, stretching you open on his thick digits, “so tight for me. Feels good, huh?”

“Feels so good,” you confirm in a shaky voice, your voice muffled. Nuzzled back into him like this, you get a delicate waft of his scent, slightly floral but with a natural musk beneath it. His fingers are much longer and larger than your own, and three of them feels like he’s splitting you open in the best way, stretching you out.

He goes slow, like he’s teasing the audience just as much as you, and you arch your back further, seeking out more. With three fingers, his middle one rubs right over your g-spot, and the base of his palm against your clit. Even those slow movements are enough to bring you closer to the edge.

He begins to speed up following another chime, and you shiver, feeling your high approach steadily, flooding your body with heat. “C-close,” you admit, lips brushing against his neck, and you feel it vibrate as he muffles a moan.

“Our baby girl’s gonna cum soon,” Jungkook announces rakishly to the camera, free hand up and rolling a nipple lazily between his fingers, making you squirm even more. Hearing him speak about you to the camera like you’re a toy he’s playing with just makes you clench harder around him, unable to stop writhing but unable to actually move anywhere at all either. “Should I let her cum on my fingers?”

All of a sudden a series of chimes go off, and whether it’s all the boys downstairs or other random viewers, you don’t know, but just the audible reminder that others were watching you like this makes you moan louder, needing to cum.

Finally, one of them is what Jungkook’s looking for, as his hand freezes between your legs, ignoring your sob of loss. “What a lucky girl,” he muses softly, still tugging at your nipple lazily, and you muster the energy to lift your head off his shoulder and read the comments on the screen.

tokyoslutt tipped $10: can she sukc you off

sweetandsaltykisses tipped $100: she should beg for it

yessir100829 tipped $10: love your streams jk! i hope that isnt ur gf :(

tokyslutt tipped $2: can she suck you off

taebybaby tipped $500: she cums on your cock or not at all

You shudder, clenching desperately as his fingers slip out of you, leaving you empty. Before you have much time to mourn it, however, your wrists are being tugged back around to your front, freeing his neck.

Jungkook flips you onto the bed with ease, the clear strength in his arms making you even more desperate. You’re side on to the camera, on your knees with your bound hands propping you up, and Jungkook takes no time in lining himself up behind you.

You can barely think to remember the computer and camera, or what those chime sounds are. Your entire mind is just focussed on Jungkook, and his cock as it slides home, one grunted thrust that buries him to the hilt in a matter of seconds. Crying out at the intrusion - he’s far thicker and longer than three fingers, and you feel every inch of him - you naturally arch your back to get him at a better angle, sobbing wantonly when he shifts inside you.

With a satisfied growl, Jungkook’s hands find your shoulders, fingers digging in and using them to jerk you back onto his cock with every thrust.

Unlike the others, Jungkook’s fucking is primal, borderline aggressive, and it turns your brain to mush, the pleasure filling every crevice of your body as he fucks you into a toe-curling nirvana.

There’s no escaping the force of his hips smacking against you, and you’re certain you’ll bruise, but in the heat of the moment it just all feels like white hot pleasure, enough to make your knees weak and your mouth water.

At one point, your elbows buckle, and the front half of your torso collapses onto the bed, bound wrists tucked between your breasts, and Jungkook doesn’t pause for a second, simply grabbing onto your hips instead.

You let out a keening scream at the change in angle, feeling every snap of his hips and every inch of him piercing you like it’s the only thing there is.

Your orgasm rises quickly, and you don’t have the mind to tell him, tongue too loose to speak. You just clench harder and harder around him until he growls with the pressure, fucking you harder.

Your eyes roll back when your orgasm hits suddenly, body convulsing as he curses and a hot stripe of cum fills you, his fingers digging into your hips as he grinds against you. The two of you cum together; Jungkook loud but unmoving, and you silent but unable to stop the violent trembling that wracks your body as sensation rushes through you, an orgasm so thorough that when he pulls out you just collapse against the sheets, dumbstruck.

Panting, you blink at Jungkook as he runs a soothing hand up and down your thigh, keeping you anchored in the moment as he farewells and thanks his viewers, switching the camera off and squatting in front of you to undo the knot holding your wrists together.

Mind fuzzy, you hum when he rubs at your wrists, gets you to wiggle your fingers. You don’t fall asleep this time (was your body finally starting to get used to intense orgasms every single day?) but you do stay dopey and nonverbal as he cleans you up and tidies the room, dressing himself back in his clothes and navigating your arms into an old shirt of his, apologising sweetly about the one he tore.

All of this barely registers in your brain, but slowly the fuzz fades and your heart rate settles, and the room blinks back into clarity.

“Fuck,” you say simply and Jungkook, bent over his laptop, turns around and grins at you.

“I’ll say!” he chirps, and you can’t help but laugh at how chipper he is so soon after cumming. “You want some water? I texted hyung to bring some up.”

Jungkook doesn’t specify which hyung he’s referring to, but when there’s a knock on the door, a small crowd hovers in the hallway, peeking past the camboy.

“Guys,” he whines, but Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon and Jin all file in the room like excited schoolchildren, the latter handing you a fresh bottle of water.

Still lying down, you thank the eldest as he helps you sit up, propping some pillows against the headboard so you can lean back comfortably. The water clears your head even more, and you pat the bed, inviting the others to join you.

Hoseok’s face curls up in disgust as he eyes the rumpled bed. “I am not sitting on Jeon Jungkook’s cummy sheets, thank you very much.”

“Then let’s to go your room,” Taehyung offers, holding out the hem of his hoodie. You stare at the bulging pocket in the middle, wide-eyed. “I brought snacks! Namjoon-hyung has Shrek on DVD.”

“It’s not my DVD,” Namjoon answers frantically, “we found it in the cabinet downstairs.”

You chuckle at the two of them. “That sounds great, but… I can’t exactly feel my legs right now.”

Taehyung shrugs, gesturing at Jin. “We bought a manservant, too.”

It takes several minutes of outrageous scolding from Jin, a firm swat on Taehyung’s ass, and enough huffing and puffing to blow down a house, but eventually you find yourself happily curled up between Jungkook and Jin, who are framed by Namjoon, Hoseok, and Taehyung lying across your stretched-out legs, watching an ogre fall in love. And if Jungkook falls asleep a little bit and drools on your shoulder; well, it’s his shirt anyway.

“Are you ready?”

The truth is, you absolutely are not ready for a date with Park Jimin, but you don’t think you ever will be, so you nod, walking out the front door with still-wobbly legs.

A true gentleman, Jimin hadn’t commented on the hickey on your throat or the fact that he’d watched you get railed by another man, and you appreciate that.

“Where are we going?” you question quietly. It’s already cool out; the evening breeze nips at your bare arms, encouraging you to half-jog over to the awaiting Uber, a less-than-romantic Subaru.

“Where would the fun be in telling you?” Jimin questions as he rushes forward to open the door for you. “I’d rather let it be a surprise.”

He’s dressed sharp - even more so than usual - in a charcoal grey suit with black lapels and a matching tie, stark against the pure white of his shirt underneath. His shoes glint in the light from the house, perfectly glossed, and the light catches on his jewellery, too; two delicate silver hoops on each ear, and the rings you never saw him without. From head to toe, he was dressed to the nines, and it made you feel underdressed even in your nicest clothes. The dress you’re wearing is flattering, certainly - even the poised Jimin had done a double take at your silhouette when you’d descended the stairs - but it’s unbranded, just a basic department store find that you’d snatched on sale shortly before you came onto the show.

You adjust the hem once you sit on the grey fabric seat of the car, thanking Jimin for holding the door. It’s not particularly form-hugging, but the soft black satin still rides up your thighs and the seatbelt scratches at your chest and neck when you clip it in.

Jimin, sliding in on the other side, doesn’t seem to have the same concern, relaxed as he settles beside you.

In front, the driver, swivels around in his seat, turning the engine back to full throttle. “Where to?”

You see Jimin falter in your peripheral vision, risking a glance at you. So much for keeping it a surprise. You block your ears with a laugh, watching his perfectly plush lips relay directions so gracefully.

When he’s done, he reaches over and lightly tugs your wrists away from your head, but he drops your hands instead of holding on to them. The two of you enjoy the ride in a slightly uncertain silence, like two strangers on a first date. You supposed you were almost like strangers, in a way.

When the car pulls over, it’s outside a street of houses, and you frown, confusion deepening when Jimin turns to you with a….sheepish look. You don’t believe you’ve ever seen him looking so rueful, but he reaches over and takes your hand in his and locks eyes, and you’re lost in him already.

“Where are we, Jimin?”

He bites his lip, eyes darting behind your shoulder to the house, then back at you. “You can’t tell the other guys about this.”

You shrug. “Okay?”

His eyes are shining with a vulnerability that you haven’t seen before, and it draws you in. “I- I normally visit my grandma for dinner every Sunday night. I told her I couldn’t make it for a few weeks, but now that we’re allowed out… I thought I’d surprise her. If you don’t want to, we can go somewhere else.”

Your eyes widen. His grandmother? You’d barely known him a week, and-

His eyes are pained, wincing like he’s bracing himself for rejection. Rejection you don’t have the heart to give him.

“Of course,” you answer with a shrug, “are you sure she’ll be okay with me there? This whole porn show thing isn’t exactly a great conversation starter for the elderly.”

Jimin’s hand, so warm on yours, tightens imperceptibly. “She doesn’t know I- I do that. She thinks I teach dance.” His brows knit together, pleading. “Could you just pretend to be a friend?”

Your heart breaks for him. “I don’t have to pretend to be your friend, Jimin. Come on; let’s go in.” The relief in his eyes is akin to a warm sunrise, and you send him a small smile, glad for the chance to see him away from all the cameras, all the pressure of the show.

Jimin’s grandmother’s house isn’t large, but it’s pretty decent for a pensioner, and in a fairly well-off area. You can’t help but wonder, as he raps on the door with his knuckles and waits with a smile, if Jimin himself had bought the place for her. You’re starting to realise the kindness you’d seen slivers of was perhaps a greater proportion of the pornstar than his rigid facade was.

The door is opened a crack before it’s flung wide, and before you can even get a good look at her face, Jimin’s grandmother is enveloping him in a bear hug, her tiny body pushing the air from his lungs with a quiet oof, Jimin patting her back with a chuckle.

When she pulls away, she holds him at arm’s length, tutting fondly. “I was thinking about you, you know,” she insists, her voice melodic like his even in her old age, “I must have summoned you because I missed you so.”

Jimin’s grin is wider than you’ve ever seen it before, eyes glittering with love for his grandmother, almost half the size of him. “Did you summon company, too? Grandma, this is my friend, Y/n.”

A strange streak of nerves run through you when she turns to you, intelligent eyes searching over you. “Just a friend?” she questions suspiciously.

Jimin sighs, grimacing, and the sight makes you muffle a laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Park,” you say genuinely. You can see him in her; even as she’s grown skinny like a bird in her old age, she maintains the chubby cheeks and button nose she’d passed on to her grandson, and he no doubt inherited the fiery personality from her too.

“Come in, come in,” she waves, herding the two of you down into the entryway, “put on some house slippers, it’s cold. Gosh, look at you with your bare arms, dearie.”

Truthfully, the house is heated enough that you feel warm, even with bare arms, but before you can protest, she’s shrugging off her baggy brown cardigan to slip it over your shoulders, rubbing your arms like you’re on the verge of hypothermia. After a bemused glance at Jimin, you slip off your heels and step into some house slippers, a pair with a black cartoon cat embroidered on, and follow him down the hallway.

“Now, I wasn’t expecting company,” she announces over her shoulder, “so I’m in the middle of making some mochi. If you want some dinner, young man, you can come earn your keep.”

“Yes, grandma,” Jimin answers obediently, and you laugh at how soft he is under her roof. The love shared between them is clear to see, and it warms your heart. “Ice cream ones?”

She shoots him a withering glare, turning into the kitchen at the end of the hall. “Red bean, mister. You’ve been gone too long; how could my grandson say such a thing?”

“I was here the Sunday before last,” Jimin defends softly, slipping off his dark blazer to reveal a perfect white shirt. The two of you step into the kitchen, and you marvel at the domestic scene in front of you.

The kitchen is small but cosy, with potted herbs on the window sill, children’s drawings on the fridge and and old radio playing piano waltzes and violin sonatas on a low volume. Just beside it is a dining area, barely more than half the size of the one at the villa, with a table and chairs. Every surface in the room is covered with ingredients, bowls, spoons, a chaotic mess. The oven light is a warm yellow, the outline of baking dishes just visible behind a tea towel hung up on the handle.

Mrs. Park has already taken a seat at a small round dinner table, which is covered in old newspapers. “Too long,” she insists, grabbing one of the three bowls on the table, the smallest, and pulls out a handful of white powder, casting it over the table. “Come sit.”

You know that tone, the no-bullshit voice that you’d heard from Jimin so many times this week, and it makes you smile. You take a seat beside her, Jimin sitting opposite you on her other side, and you can see that one bowl has a large lump of red bean paste, and the other, the biggest, is full to overflowing with mochi dough, white and gelatinous.

Patting her hands in the powder on the table, Mrs. Park grabs a handful of the mochi, ripping it off the top, and begins stretching it out. “Come on, help a poor old woman out,” she demands with a nudge to Jimin’s shoulder.

The blue-haired man sends you an apologetic glance as you obediently pull up the sleeves of the brown cardigan and cover your hards in cornstarch, grabbing some dough. You beam, secretly relishing the warm atmosphere. “What are you making all this mochi for, Mrs. Park?” you ask politely, feeling the satisfying texture of the dough stretching between your fingers.

She raises a dark brow, as thin and wiry as she is. “To eat, dear,” she answers patiently, “what do you with mochi?”

“Grandma,” Jimin whines reproachfully, and you chuckle at the two of them. Jimin, tearing off his own lump of dough, begins deftly moulding it like he’s been doing it since he was a kid. You’re caught by the dexterous movements of his fingers as he presses and stretches it into a flat disc. “Doing this can’t be good for your arthritis.”

Already rolling up her first ball, which is filled with a spoonful of red bean paste, Mrs. Park scoffs. “My Mochi wasn’t here, so I had to make some instead.”

Jimin’s hands falter as he goes bright pink, eyes narrowing into little crescent moons with embarrassment. “Don’t call me that in front of friends, Grandma.”

She simply tuts, moving speedily onto her second, and soon third ball as you struggle to form your first one. “The audacity,” she comments lightly, “I hope Minnie doesn’t talk back to you like that, Y/n.”

You grin, sending your friend a sidelong wink. “He’s an absolute gentleman, Mrs. Park.”

“Good,” she confirms lightly, even as Jimin sputters, “he’s softer than you think, this boy. It’s why he’s my Mochi. Acts tough sometimes, acts cool - but still soft.”

You can’t make eye contact with Jimin this time, just staring down at the deep red lump of red bean in the middle of your round disc of mochi. “I know,” you confess with a shy smile.

Clearly wanting to change the subject, Jimin coughs lightly. “Grandma, did you get that rice cooker I sent you? I didn’t see it in the kitchen.”

Without skipping a beat, Mrs. Park calmly reaches over for what must be a sixth handful of mochi. “Possessed,” she answers simply.

You choke on air, disguising it as a cough, as Jimin tuts. “What do you mean ‘possessed’? It’s top of the line.”

Jimin’s grandmother sends him an earnest look, leaning in to fix him in her beady stare. “It spoke to me, Jimin. It’s not holy.”

Jimin lets out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s because it’s a smart device, Grandma. It gives instructions out loud, and you can just give it a command verbally instead of trying to type it in or do it yourself. Really; it comes with an instruction manual.” He sighs. “Where did you put it, Grandma? I can set it up for you.”

Mrs. Park goes uncharacteristically silent, returning to stoically forming balls of red bean mochi. You muffle a grin, enjoying the rapport between the two.

“Grandma?” Jimin insists. Unlike what you’d seen of him at the villa, he doesn’t snap, or stiffen, or scoff. He just gently unwraps her fingers from the dough, widening his eyes meaningfully to catch her stare. “Grandma.”

Her jaw works as she gives in. “Fine. I gave it to Min-soo.”

Jimin cocks his head. “Why would you give it to Min-soo?” he questions quizzically. “You hate Min-” he cuts himself off in realization. “Oh my goodness.”

Unbothered, Mrs. Park gathers her hands back from Jimin’s grip, patting his cheek before continuing.

Jimin stares at you helplessly, particles of white clinging to his cheek, and you can’t help but laugh, finally putting down your first wonky red bean mochi next to the row of perfect spheres the Parks had created. “Who cares about a talking rice cooker,” you venture airily, “I have a more pressing question.”

The two turn to you in unison, matching looks of expectancy and confusion on their faces.

You narrow your eyes, like it’s of the utmost importance. “Who is Min-Soo, and why do we hate her?”

Jimin blinks, but his grandmother just cackles, throwing her head back with the force of it. Once she calms down, her powdered hand finds Jimin’s elbow, uncaring of the expensive cotton shirt. “This one’s a keeper,” she divulges, and your heart - and cheeks - warm with fondness.

The time goes by without you noticing it. Conversation flows into every nook and cranny like liquid, and the hearty dinner Mrs. Park serves (clearly too much for one person, though she insists she would’ve had the rest as leftovers had she ‘dined alone’) fills your stomach, followed by some of the mochi you’d made.

In fact, you could easily stay chatting, were it not for Jimin catching sight of the time on an ancient wooden wall-clock in the kitchen, remarking that he had to get you back home. Eleven forty-seven, there’s really no time for pleasantries if you’re going to make it back before curfew at midnight, and so Mrs. Park reluctantly leads you back down to the front door, giving you and Jimin each a tight hug as you get your shoes on.

Slipping out of her cardigan, you mourn the loss of its warmth and comfort, handing it back. “Thank you so much,” you gush, “for this, for the food, the good company.”

“Oh, you charmer,” she deflects, but you can see the way her eyes crinkle and cheeks heat, just like Jimin when he’s pleased. No wonder the two were so close, they were the like same soul in two bodies.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you,” you say warmly, seeing the way Jimin checks his phone, biting onto his lip. “I think our car may be here soon… Have a good night, Mrs. Park.”

She pulls you in for a final hug, wiry arms still strong around you, melting your heart with her compassion. “Take care of him,” she whispers into your ear, “he’s more sensitive than he’ll admit.”

Her eyes are glossy when she pulls back, and you give her your best reassuring smile and nod. You make your way outside as Jimin gives one last quick hug goodbye, hissing at the cold air.

“Sorry about that,” you hear him say as the front door closes behind him. “I was worried there may be some punishment if you didn’t get back before curfew. Grandma could make conversation with a desk chair if she really wanted to.”

You laugh, tucking your arms over your chest with a shiver, glancing up and down the street for any approaching vehicles. “You don’t have to say sorry. She’s great.”

Jimin lets out a laugh of relief. “That she is.” He frowns as you shiver again. “You’re cold.”

“The car will be here soon.”

“Well, you’re cold now,” he insists, much in the same no-bullshit tone of his grandmother, and you smile softly up at him with bright eyes as he takes his suit jacket, folded over his elbow until now, and gently wraps you in it, helping your arms through the sleeves. “Don’t look at me like that,” he chastises, but there’s no bite to it, almost like a plea.

When his arms drop down, you realise he’s much closer to you, having stepped in to wrap the jacket around your back. Your eyes dart down to his lips, plush and parted slightly, just for a moment. Clearly, it’s enough for him to catch it as he sighs lightly.

“I- Can I kiss you?” he asks lowly, and you suck in a breath, almost not believing it. He waits for your dazed nod before his thumb finds the centre of your chin, holding you steady as he dips his head, joining your lips together in a sweet kiss.

Your pulse throbs in your neck, your fingertips, heart hammering as his lips move on yours, slowly and thoughtfully. You feel heady, caught up in the way he touches and kisses you now, like you’re delicate.

It’s all you can do to try and kiss back, hands fisting in his shirt to hold him close. You feel so precious, so vulnerable, so feminine as he slants his mouth on yours with such reverence your head spins.

You could go on forever, and you wish you had that luxury, but the sudden impatient toot of a car horn makes your heart skip, the two of you jumping apart to see the same silver Subaru waiting on the road.

The moment is shattered, but as you buckle yourself in and the car pulls away from the pavement, Jimin’s fingers find yours, entwining lazily. Not squeezing, barely holding, just enjoying the silent contact. But for you, that’s enough.

Chapter Text

“Are you ready to make your decision?”

No. Of course the answer is no, but there’s no delaying it anymore. “Is it nine already?”

Sejin sighs, shuffling to the side of the table to indicate you’re to sit beside him. When you do, facing the boys on the couch, your heart gives another sickening lurch. Sejin squeezes your shoulder kindly. “Just a game, sweetheart,” he assures quietly, before raising his voice into the authorial tone he used for announcements. “Thank you for all being here on time, any on topic questions before we begin?”

Nobody answers, not even Jin. There’s a tense atmosphere, and you feel caught right in the centre of it.

“Okay, then,” he says softly, sensing the sullen atmosphere. “I’d like to give each of the Gentlemen a chance to explain why Y/n should keep them in the show. Let’s go around the room. Yoongi?”

To Sejin’s left, perched on the end of the three-person couch, is the doctor himself, legs crossed and face relaxed. “Um, Y/n should keep me in becau-”

“Say it to her,” Sejin guides, shuffling back to move out of the way.

Reflexively, Yoongi glances up at you, and the calm warmth of his eyes reassures you. “Y/n, I’d ask you to keep me in because we’ve had a good time together so far, but there’s so much that we have yet to explore. Beyond that, I’d like to think I’m a good fit for the house, and I’ll continue to assist Jin-hyung in cooking many meals.” Once he’s done, he sends you a small smile, eyes glinting playfully.

The younger boy sitting next to him is not as cheerful. Bottom lip red from gnawing, Jungkook tucks his feet up on the couch, resting his chin on his knees. His eyes meet yours after Sejin signals for him to begin. “I really hope you don’t vote me out because I like it here a lot. You’re so cool, and the hyungs are so cool, and I feel really happy here. I know we haven’t spent a whole lot of quality time yet, but I want to, if I stick around long enough.”

You bite down harshly on your tongue, sending him a strained smile. Fuck, this sucks. Beside Jungkook is Hoseok, who props his elbow on the arm of the couch, posture casual but face stricken.

“Y/n,” Hoseok begins, voice tentative and uncharacteristically subdued, “you’re a very intelligent girl and you have a lot of potential in being a sub. I’d appreciate the opportunity to stay in and show you and the audience how enjoyable BDSM can be. We’re all very lucky men to be on the show with you.”

On the couch beside, Namjoon is the next one around. He pauses, eyes dancing about the room as he thinks. “I think it probably doesn’t make much sense to keep me in the game,” he allows. “I’m not experienced like the others and so it’s a little hard to defend on that front, but I think me staying allows you the advantage of being my first and best experience. I feel like with just a bit more time, I’ll really grow into my element, and I feel safe doing it with you. So I really hope I stay.”

Squished beside him is Jin, who sends you a big grin, even if it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “This is so shitty,” he says with a laugh, “it’s harder than I was prepared for before I came, and I think that’s due partly to the warm environment that we’re developing with each other, but also because you, Y/n, are a very genuine and lively person. Of course this is a game about sex, but I don’t think any one of us could say that’s the only factor here. As for me, I ask that you keep me in at least a week more because I can promise not only a good time, but also an ear if you need one, and advice should you ever want it.” He pauses to glance around the room. “That goes for all of you,” Jin adds, “I cannot believe that I don’t hate any of you, I don’t know how the producers found such great people.”

His words ease a bit of the tension, and the rest of you let out laughs of relief, your heart easing slightly.

Next, it’s down on the floor for Taehyung, who seems to prefer sitting cross-legged on the carpet to any other spot in the room. “I really wanna stay here,” he pleads with his eyes locked on yours, so earnest, “you’re so fantastic, and Jungkookie and the hyungs are all so fantastic, and I don’t wanna go home so soon. And also I think in terms of sex and stuff, I bring a lot to the table.” Taehyung avoids Sejin’s gaze, fiddling with the hem of his shirt innocently even as he stares up through his eyelashes at the rest of you cheekily. “I think we saw that yesterday. Though in the future, hopefully it’ll cost me less.” He sends a withering glare at Yoongi and Jin. “You assholes.”

You let out a chuckle, Jin huffing in response and Yoongi just shrugging with a shameless grin. Finally, it’s Jimin’s turn, and your chest pangs as you remember the last time you were together. The way he squeezed your hand gently before getting out of the car last night, the way he walked you to your bedroom door, wishing you sweet dreams. The way you saw an entirely different man to the one he’s been advertising.

His eyes on you are imploring even as his back is straight and legs crossed. “I value the time I spend with you. This is, after all, a game about sex so I’ll defend myself by saying you can rest assured I’m skilled enough to please you well, but if you allow me to stay,” he drops eye contact, fiddling with his rings even as he fights to remain poised, “I do hope it’s not the sex alone that keeps me here.” Like a switch is flicked, his momentary vulnerability vanishes, and he glances up and sends you a smile, warm and at-ease, having said his piece.

“And Y/n,” Sejin guides from beside you, his kind eyes on you, “anything to say to the guys?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s been a week? Why is this so hard? “I- First of all, this decision has been insanely hard. You’re all amazing, not just in bed but as people, and I hope that whoever has to leave will still stay in touch. It feels really cruel that I have to say goodbye to someone so soon. The reality is, none of you did bad, and there’s nobody I don’t like; nobody that doesn’t belong here. I’ve made my decision, but- I don’t know. I’m not happy with it, but I don’t think I’d be happy with any decision. In the end, I guess I just went for the least painful option.” You take a deep breath, eyes lifting to look at Hoseok, who sends you a sad smile. You open your mouth-

“Wait!” Sejin interrupts loudly. Everyone turns to look at him in unison, eyes wide. “There-” He breaks off with a sigh, glancing at the camera closest to him before looking back down at the group. “Listen; this will be edited out, but ratings have been doing far better than we’d ever anticipated. We already hired a third editor to keep up with demand and get more episodes out than was on the schedule, and there’s talk we may even start getting sponsorships because the support has been creating headlines, at least on Twitter. The higher-ups at Bangasm, well… they want to make an exception.”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” Sejin answers. “Act surprised.” The eight of you stare at him with varying degrees of bewilderment as he puffs his chest and carries his voice louder, switching back into producer mode. “Wait!” he repeats in the same tone as earlier. “The production team hasn’t been completely honest with you. This isn’t just a basic game with prompts each week like we told you. There will be a special advantage, a wildcard if you wish, that changes things up. They could affect the prompts, or how the game proceeds for that week. We call them Bangasm Bombs. And while we didn’t tell you, our production team has drawn the Bangasm Bomb for Week One.”

Sejin pauses to look at you all meaningfully. Jimin picks up the hint. “So; what’s the ‘Bangasm Bomb’ for this week?” he asks for you, gesturing quote marks with his fingers. 

Your mind is starting to whir, possibilities beginning to percolate in your mind, but you aren’t prepared for what Sejin says next.

“Nobody goes home this week.” 

Your mouth drops open, eyes darting around the room to see the open disbelief on the guys’ faces. “So I- I don’t have to send anyone home today?”

“No,” Sejin answers warmly, and you feel your shoulders sag in relief, a breath rushing out you didn’t know you were holding. Sejin winces, clearing his throat lightly. “That’s… the other thing.”

“Other thing?” Yoongi asks incredulously. “There’s more?”

“With the success of the show comes other benefits. For example; the CEO and treasurer of Bangasm have agreed to double our funding if we can keep the views up. No, Seokjin,” Sejin quips the second the eldest contestant raises his hand. Jin puts his hand down, lips pursed in a pout. “We’re changing the rules a bit. Before, we said if Y/n eliminated you, you’d pack your bags and leave. Now; you stay.”

Sejin can’t get another word out over the clamour that arises, everyone shocked and excited and confused all at once. He waves his hand for silence, and only after a minute or so everyone calms down. 

“So, there’s just no eliminating?” Jungkook asks with a comically quizzical look on his face.

“Please just let me explain,” Sejin requests, sighing. “Yes, there will still be eliminations. But if you get eliminated, you stay in the house.”

“So it’s a free pass,” Jungkook surmises.

“Not quite. No longer will you not be competing in the game, but you won’t be able to have sex with or sexually touch Y/n in any way. If you do, then you’ll be sent out of the house for good.”

“No sex with Y/n?” Taehyung asks meaningfully. “So… otherwise…?”

Sejin sighs, a tired laugh falling from his lips. “Just no sex with Y/n,” he confirms. “If you touch Y/n sexually, you go home. If Y/n touches you, of course we can’t send her home, so we’ve devised a punishment.” 

At the word punishment your head darts up to stare at the producer, but Hoseok beats you to the punch. “She’s gonna come join us in the bunkroom?”

“That’s for failing prompts, Hobi-hyung,” Namjoon points out, “Y/n doesn’t have any prompts.”

“Correct,” Sejin confirms. “If Y/n touches an eliminated member in a sexual manner, then that member gets to choose what she wears for the next 24 hours.”

You frown. “That doesn’t sound so…” you trail off when you glance up, only to be met with seven hungry sets of eyes. You can just about see the cogs turning in their brains as they stare at your body. “Ah.”

“Yes. So stick to the rules, and you get, as Jungkook so elegantly put, a free pass minus Y/n. Got it?”

The eight of you stay silent, still shell-shocked from the two revelations. This changed things. Now, when you voted someone off, they would get to stay, but they would get to stay. You can see both the positive and negative possibilities there, and it’s no surprise that a reality show would have such a sneaky plot twist.

So you’d have all seven fucking you for one more week, and then all seven every week in the future, only with your sexual prospects dropping as you went. It does ensure that you’ll begin voting for them purely based on sexual performance; considering their personalities in the house wasn’t an issue if you’d have those anyway. 

As you glance around the room, you can’t help but wonder if your vote would’ve been different had you known that he’d get to stay. And you wonder if you’ll end up picking the same person in a week’s time, after a new set of prompts. The thought makes you sit up, turning to Sejin again.

“Will the boys draw their new prompts, then?” you ask. “Do I get to know the theme again?”

“Ah, of course-” Sejin breaks off to sit up, retrieving a stack of slightly crumpled papers from his back pocket. “This week’s theme is dynamics and roleplay. Come pick a card.”

Like last week, you pay close attention to the reactions of each of the seven. Namjoon blinks wide at his, but doesn’t seem as put off as last week, and his eyes go distant when he sits back down, like he’s already picturing it. Jimin takes two, one for him at one for Taehyung, and the two compare, Taehyung laughing at Jimin’s and Jimin smirking at Taehyung’s, brushing his clean-shaven cheek with the back of his knuckles and murmuring something in his ear. 

When Jin gets his, he bites his tongue and shakes his head with a light laugh, and Yoongi’s mouth drops open upon reading his card, eyes darkening with lust. Jungkook winces at first, but thinks on it a moment longer and grins eagerly, taking a second glance and scrunching his nose cutely at it. Hoseok takes his last, calmly reading it with a pleased smirk, sliding it into his front pocket and taking a seat.

Your breath leaves you in a slow stream. You’re back to the not-knowing. Dynamics and roleplay. It could really be anything, you supposed. Naughty schoolgirl, pizza delivery guy. You didn’t watch a lot of porn but you vaguely knew some of the tropes, and it’ll be a rather interesting week indeed.

“That’s not all, of course,” Sejin adds, and you feel like your brain could implode with the information dump that this morning has been. “Would you like to hear the Bangasm Bomb for Week 2?”

“We find out now?” Hoseok questions. “Not at the end?”

“Well, in order to fulfil it you need to know now,” the producer explains. “This week, Y/n may not sleep in her own bed, and she may not sleep in the same bed twice.”

You blink, not expecting it to be directed at you. “I what?” Your mind catches up with the rule, and you let out a light laugh. “So, I’ll have to share with the other guys?”

“Let’s not forget the type of show we’re on,” Yoongi points out, leveling an impressed stare at the producer. “Well-played.”

“Thank you,” Sejin replies shortly. “Now, that’ll be all. Just a reminder, if your scene isn’t filmed, it doesn’t count, and it’s okay if Y/n guesses the prompt, but if you tell her directly then your prompt is void. Seokjin; we ordered you a set of chef’s knives that should be here later today. Please stop spamming the company’s inquiries email.”

He’s out of the room before Jin can even react, open-mouthed but smug like the cat that got the cream.

The eight of you sit in silence for a moment or two, still reeling. It’s Hoseok in the end that recovers first.

“So we all stay,” he muses. “Even if we get voted off, we stay. Why is that both a blessing and a curse?”

“This is reality TV,” Jimin points out calmly, “and it’s porn on top of it. Tension and drama skyrockets ratings. Well; I’m going to make some coffees if anyone wants one.”

Most of the group move back into the kitchen, rifling through cabinets like zombies to make their breakfasts, but Namjoon approaches you hesitantly, biting on his lip.

“Y/n, can I talk to you? Privately?”

You stand up off the coffee table, though still you’re lifting your chin to meet his gaze. “Sure,” you reply easily, “privately or privately privately?”

“Um,” he hesitates, glancing towards the entrance foyer, where across the hall lies the unfilmed rec room. “Just privately is fine for now.”

Everyone else distracted with the prospect of food and hot coffee, it’s easy enough to just sit on the stairs, side-by-side and thighs touching. Like this, you become aware of how much bigger he is than you. Namjoon’s legs sprawl out down to the bottom of the stairs, socked feet slipping slightly on the glossy stone floor, whereas yours are tucked on the step below you. He glances down at you with a nervous disposition, but his eyes are surprisingly steady.

“Hoseok-hyung and I slept in the bunk bed room last night, as you probably know,” he explains. “Him and I talked a lot. About a bunch of things, but he helped me realise something. And after I got the prompt today, I was sure.”

Your eyes widen as they watch him carefully. The roots of his purple are starting to grow out in a soft brunette that makes him look even younger, his face round yet gently sculpted, chin pressed out in solemnity. “Sure of what?” you question quietly.

Namjoon takes a slow breath, rubbing his palms over his knees. “I think it’s better if I don’t lose my virginity while doing some cheesy role-play for a porn show, you know? I know I chose to come here knowing what I was walking into, but… Hoseok suggested maybe we could use the rec room for some privacy and then I could just fill my prompt later in the week. Of course, the producers will probably get annoyed at me not losing my virginity on camera, but they never said I had to, and I think I want it to be something just for me, you know? Something that’s just you and me, outside of the show. I understand if you don’t want to do that, but if you’re happy to, I think I’m ready now.”

You take a few moments to fully process his words, the gravity of them. “You sure you’re ready? If you are, I’m happy to do that, Joonie. I want it to be good for you. You deserve that.”

He smiles at that, broadly, but with his head ducked down. “That means a lot,” he admits, “but yeah. I’m ready. If you want to…?” He trails off, tipping his head in the direction of the private rec room.

You sit up straight. “Oh! You mean- now now? Yes, I can do that, wow, okay-”

“If that’s alright?” he asks hastily, face pinched with worry, but you just stand up, holding out a hand to him. He takes it, letting you lead him to the door.

From the few times you’ve needed to use this room, it’s been pretty empty. It’s small; most likely originally intended as extra storage or a home office, and the producers had put a visibly second-hand couch on one wall, a skinny coffee table and a lamp in there.

Generally, it’s a glorified staffroom of sorts, a time-out that’s more valuable for its lack of cameras than anything actually inside. Today, though, you freeze in the hallway at the sight that greets you.

With the table pushed to one side, boasting two bottles of water, a box of tissues, a bottle of self-heating lube and a small bluetooth speaker, the rest of the room has been converted into a massive bed.

The floor is covered with blankets, sheets and duvets, thick enough to be like a bedroll, with pillows stacked on the edges. They cover most of the floor, roughly the size of a queen size bed. On top of the impressive set-up are a colourful variety of packaged condoms, arranged in a tasteful love-heart.

Namjoon groans at the display, pinching his brow. “Hoseok said he’d set up for me and make it a little more comfortable, I’m sorry.”

“It’s cute,” you say with a laugh, “are you wanting to use condoms?”

Namjoon swallows. “Uh, you- what would you prefer?”

You shrug, collecting them up and flicking through the buffet of options. You chuckle as the majority are L and XL. Unsurprising. “I mean, we don’t need one. So if you want to feel everything fully, I say go bare.”

“G-go bare, please,” he coughs out awkwardly, shutting and locking the door behind him, double-checking the handle. “Can we put some music on? It’s really quiet in here.”

“Of course.” You busy yourself with the music, smiling at the fact that he must have appreciated it last time. By the time you select a nice playlist on your phone and pick a decent volume, Namjoon’s surprised you by hastily stripping down to his underwear, shyly rubbing at his knees.

You stand stock-still for a moment, just taking in the gorgeous sight of his body, all understated muscle and bold lines and planes. He must do some form of exercise, because his chest is thick, as are his thighs, and his lower stomach is soft but lean. He’s gorgeous, and between your legs you feel your excitement grow.

Hustling to strip your clothes off as a gentle guitar strumming fills the air, you feel the cool cotton of the duvet under your knees as you straddle Namjoon, the man sucking in a breath as your clothed pussy presses flush against his hardness.

“Give me a kiss,” you ask softly, a suggestion to let him take control, and a sigh of relief leaves his lungs as he cups your face in his hands, tugging your lips onto his greedily.

The ferocity with which he kisses you takes your breath away. It’s powerful, greedy and demanding like he’s waited an eon to kiss you again. While he was surprisingly skilful the first time, now it feels like he’s come into his own.

You make a noise of surprise in the back of your throat as you feel his tongue slipping between your lips, licking up into your mouth like he’s trying to devour you. You’re drunk on it, mind feeling hazy, but you manage to pull away for a moment, gasping out a, “how the hell did you get this good?”

Grunting, Namjoon’s eyes flutter open and one of his hands slips back to cup the nape of your neck securely, preventing you from backing up further. “Hoseok gave me some tips,” he admits. “Now get back here.”

You let yourself be pulled in again and eaten alive, muffled groans and sighs of bliss slipping out between swipes of tongue and flashes of teeth, nipping at your bottom lip until it’s swollen and aching in the best way.

Without realising, you’ve begin to grind your hips against him, needing friction, and he pants into your mouth at the feeling. The pleasure makes him sloppy, and you groan as his lips leave yours, veering down to kiss along your jawline, tugging on your earlobe before sucking blossoms of colour down your throat. You tip your head back, arching into his mouth and rocking your hips against him, the friction addictive.

“Gonna fuck you now,” you hear him groan against your collarbone, lips on your skin that’s slick from his spit. Even in your heightened state of arousal you can sense the slight question in his voice, like he’s checking you’re still okay with it.

More than okay, you glance down to see the point that joins you, your panties so wet that the grey of his boxers is marred by a dark spot, wet and clinging to the stiff outline of his cock. You curse lowly at the sight of it. “Fuck, please, I need you, Joonie.”

He lets out a strangled sigh, hands trembling slightly as he pushes down the waistband of his boxers so that it rests below his balls, cock bobbing up to rest at his stomach. He swallows hard, eyes closed and back resting against the base of the couch. The sheets beneath you have heated up with your body temperature, arousal radiating off the two of you in waves. 

When you first reach out to touch him, you keep your eyes on his face, on his reaction. The initial contact makes his brow twitch, eyes clenching shut. So thick your fingers don’t touch around him when you grasp his base, he’s definitely the biggest you’ve seen in the house; a touch of irony that the least experienced member had the biggest genetic advantage. His bottom lip finds his way tucked between his teeth, thighs tensing beneath you. 

“Joonie,” you mumble in a mock pout, “are you gonna fuck me now or so I have to do all the work myself?”

His eyes fly open, gaze landing on your widened eyes of innocence, before darting down to where you’re gently stroking him, fingertips catching on the sensitive ridge beneath his head. “Hobi-hyung said you should ride me so you can get used to it.”

You chuckle, tapping your thumb over his weeping slit, making him hiss. “Let’s stop thinking about what Hobi said and start worrying about what you want. Do you want me to ride you? Feel how tight I am for you?”

He curses, brows knitting as he nods shakily, and you can’t hold yourself back any longer. With a low curl of thrill in your stomach, you sit up so you can quickly slip off your panties, before straddling him again. He feels heavy when you brush his length through your sodden folds, readying him for you, and the thought makes you groan lowly. 

“Wanted you so bad,” you confess over the music in the background, now a simple drum beat that gives you rhythm as you grind your hips over him, letting his blunt head catch at your entrance. “Fuck.” His fingers are digging into your hips just with the feeling of your pussy clenching over his tip, and you lower yourself painfully slowly, adjusting to the way he stretches you to your limit, dragging inch by inch against your walls. 

“H-oh god, it is, it’s so tight,” he comments with a hitch in his voice, and again you feel the muscles of his thighs twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to bury himself in you. Though the thought of it is hot, you’re merciful that he’s giving you time to grow accustomed to the sheer girth of his dick inside you. 

“Does it feel good, Joonie?” you ask, the question panted as he takes your breath away, grinning at the quick stuttered nods he gives in reply, fingers flexing on the flesh of your hips and ass. By the time you’re sitting flush against his lap, you can barely breathe, a shaky hand pressing onto your stomach almost expecting to feel him bulging out of you from the inside. He’s not just the biggest on the show, but the biggest you’ve ever had, and you feel like you could cum just from rolling your hips against him. 

“You feel so amazing, Y/n,” he praises, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close so that he can press his lips to yours. You whine as he shifts in you, feeling shakier than ever, but appreciate the chance to adjust to him, tongue chasing his and fingers slipping into his hair as you kiss. 

You’re content to stay like that for as long as he continues to move his mouth against you, mouth watering at the feeling of cockwarming him and joining your bodies so intimately, but the excitement of new sensation gets to him, and after a while he begins to shift, holding your hips down and grinding his hips.

Your jaw drops open, hands flying out to grip at his shoulders at the feeling. He’s so deep you can barely comprehend it, can barely think with his cock filling you so completely, and find yourself pleading quietly, an unintelligible babble of more, please more, need more. He shifts his posture as you sit on his length, uncrossing his legs and instead bracing them in front of him. 

“Want me to fuck you like this?” he asks, nipping at your throat, and you shiver at the husky gravel of his tone. What happened to the shy virgin? 

“Please, Joonie,” you gasp, clenching around him, “need you to move.”

His first thrust takes your breath away, punching the air out of your lungs. When he moves inside you it feels monumental, like a core piece of you shifting, and your eyes water with the delicious burn. You whine when he pauses for a moment, hands slipping down to knead at your ass. Namjoon’s eyes are like molten dark chocolate as they focus on you, rich and intense, and when your head tips down to kiss him again it’s so needy your teeth clash, the keening whimper in your throat sign enough that you want more. 

It’s only once he begins to fuck you in earnest, bouncing you on his cock, that you see how truly affected he is. Strands of lilac cling to his temples as he sweats, chest heaving and hands trembling even as his fingers dig in hungrily. His lips are slick with spit, but he makes no move to wipe them clean, just biting onto his bottom lip and sucking, hips snapping up with bruising momentum. 

You can’t catch your breath, but still you chase his lips like oxygen, needing to be as close as possible. His panting keeps you anchored as you moan shamelessly, toes curling and back arching. Your high approaches quickly enough that it shocks you, but there’s no escaping the pleasure that rushes through you with every snap of his hips. 

You lose contact with his mouth, cheek resting limply on his shoulder as he speeds up his pace, the muscles in your legs failing you, twitching uncontrollably. 

“No, no, no, fuck,” Namjoon chants lowly, and you feel a hand bury in your hair, holding you to the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry, I’m not gonna last.”

You moan at that, feeling him stiffen impossibly more inside you with every thrust. “Wan’ you to cum,” you promise in his ear, barely more than a gasped breath, “wanna cum with you.” To end the statement, you nuzzle your nose against his throat and nip at his pulse point. To your surprise, he shudders violently, suddenly going stock still.

Your eyes widen as hot ropes of cum fill you, Namjoon clutching you to him helplessly, groaning nonsense as his orgasm hits him out of nowhere. Your own high recedes, but you barely notice it as you sit up tiredly and clench around him, watching the pleasure flicker across his face as he rides the high. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes cast towards the ceiling and chest still heaving, “I’m so sorry, I… sensitive neck.”

You grin, running your hands up to gently brush over it, feeling him pulse inside you, spurting the final drops of cum from his spent cock. “Don’t apologise,” you assure, leaning in quickly to nibble at his lips and give him a lazy, indulgent kiss. “That was really fucking hot.”

He laughs, cheeks pinkening slightly, and you feel your heart warm at the return of the shy Namjoon you’d gotten used to. So he’s a lot more dominant and confident in the heat of the moment, you muse as he catches his breath, good to know.

When you find your strength again, slowly sitting up off him, you wince at the rush of cum leaving you, and the uncomfortable feeling of emptiness. That’s only exacerbated by the fact that you haven’t cum yet, but it’s his first time and you don’t want him to feel bad. Collapsing on the sheets beside him, you rest your head on his shoulder, breath still coming in shallow pants. “Good?”

“Good god, Y/n,” he exclaims earnestly, “I think I might be a sex addict now.” 

A surprised peal of laughter leaves your lungs, and you shove him playfully before crawling over to the coffee table, cracking open a bottle of water and cleaning yourself up with the available tissues. “Hoseok really did think this through, huh?” you muse, chucking him the box once you’re done.

Namjoon clears up the cum on his cock and thighs, grimacing at the way some of it has stained his boxers, but he sends you a guilty look. “I’m sorry.”

You frown, reaching for your clothes. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t-”

Whatever Namjoon is about to say is cut off by a sudden thud that gives you both a fright, followed by three polite albeit enthusiastic knocks. You stare in bewilderment at the door, before hastily dressing yourself.

“Is everything alright?” Namjoon calls out, putting his underwear back on properly and hopping into his pants. “Has something happened?”

“I should hope so, young grasshopper!” an enthusiastic voice chirps from the other side of the door, muffled but unmistakably Hoseok. “You’ve popped your cherry, Kim Namjoon!”

The academic winces, reaching out to unlock the door once he’s made sure the two of you are dressed. “Hoseok, what are you doing? Wha-?” He breaks off once he opens the door, and you rush around behind him to see what gave him pause. 

In the foyer are Hoseok, Taehyung and Jin, all in matching paper birthday hats, the strings of thin elastic digging into their chins. Hoseok’s holding two more in his hands, and he thrusts them towards you as Taehyung wiggles the weighty bottle of champagne in his grasp. Behind them, Jin calmly holds a kitchen knife.

“What’s going on?” you ask in bewilderment, stepping out into the foyer and wincing at the ache between your legs with each step. “Why the fuck are you holding a knife?”

Jin, his bright blue party hat on at a jaunty angle, stares down at his hands blankly before gasping, tucking it behind his back. “Sometimes I forget I’m still holding it.”

“That’s extremely alarming,” Namjoon says with a frown. “I still don’t understand why you’re all gathered outside the door.”

“It’s time for the party, hyung,” Taehyung explains, “to celebrate you finally getting your dick wet.”

Your cheeks go flaming red as you glance at Namjoon, the poor man spluttering and eyes wide like he didn’t know what to do. “If there’s champagne, I’m there,” you announce calmly. “Come on, Joonie, let’s go celebrate.”

Namjoon visibly relaxes when you aren’t offended, flicking you a warm smile. “Is everyone wearing a hat?” he questions incredulously, taking the thin cone card. 

“Mo-mostly everyone,” Hoseok answers suspiciously. 

“It’s just you guys, isn’t it?”

“Well, if you both wore one, we’d have the majority.”

You grin, patting Hoseok on the shoulder as you walk past him into the foyer. “Let’s just go,” you call out to the guys behind you, “there better be food.”

As expected, the three that greeted you were the only ones wearing party hats. At the dining table, which has been laden with aromatic dishes, steaming rice and empty champagne flutes, the other three await. Jimin’s is resting beside his plate and chopsticks, untouched. Beside him, Yoongi has his upside down, using it as a bowl for the rice snacks he’s munching happily on. The youngest man in the house hasn’t even noticed you’ve arrived, using it like a very inefficient telescope, one eye scrunched shut and the other focused on the pinhole at the top of the cone. Sitting at the head of the table, he aims it at Jimin, mouth hanging open as he tries to see through the tiny gap.

Giving up, he waves the wide end around the room, desperate to catch a glimpse of something. Once the cone lands on the five of you, he gasps, chucking down the party hat. “You’re back! I didn’t start eating the cake, like you said!” 

Jin frowns. “That sounds awfully suspicious.” Knife still in hand, he makes his way to the kitchen island, where you catch a glimpse of a beautifully iced cake with writing on the top that you’re too far away to read. 

Jungkook shifts restlessly in his seat, staring worriedly at Jin. “The- um, the birds attacked it.” If you look closely, you think you can see the slightest hint of vanilla icing in the crook of his mouth. 

Jin stares at the cake desolately. “The birds?” he deadpans.

“Seagulls, you know,” Jungkook tries to pass off casually, the pink of his tongue dashing out to lick the sugar off his lips. “Absolute vultures.”

Hoseok tsks in disappointment. “Was it seagulls or was it vultures?”

Jungkook stays silent an inexplicably long amount of time, glancing slowly between Hoseok and Jin. His eyes are wide like he’s trying to work out the lie in his head “…It was me.” 

Jin’s fingers are pressed to his temple as he sighs. “Right.” Setting down the knife, he picks up the cake and brings it to the table, placing it in the middle of the table. The rest of you all take a seat, filling in the spaces around the table. Taehyung slips in beside Jimin, Hoseok at the end of the table opposite Jungkook, and finally Jin, Namjoon, and you take the last of the seats. 

The cake is beautiful, neat and fluffy buttercream all over with swooping cursive written in a thin black stream. Unfortunately, a very delicate but obvious slice has been taken out so you have to focus to work out what the writing says. Once you do, you let out a reluctant chuckle, watching Namjoon blush once more, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his shirt shyly.

“‘Here lies Namjoon’s virginity,’” you recite, “‘1994-2020.’ Who came up with that?”

“That’s not impor-” Jin begins, but Taehyung swiftly cuts him off.

“I did!” he declares proudly. “Everyone agreed mine was funnier than Jin-hyung’s.”

“Obviously not everyone,” Jin replies bitterly, dishing himself up some of the rice closest to him. “Dig in, everyone, Yoongi and I worked hard on this. And congratulations Namjoon,” he adds, though he sends Namjoon a genuine smile, eyes twinkling. 

After everyone says their congratulations, the food is dug into and the cork of the bottle is popped, conversation flowing like the champagne. 

Over time, Namjoon seems to get used to the chatter about sex, perhaps not feeling so left out of the loop, and his face is more open and relaxed than ever, a dimple poking out when he smiles. You occasionally reach out to shove him playfully or squeeze his arm as the chatter continues, and he no longer freezes or stiffens up. It warms your heart that he feels a little more comfortable amongst you.

You’re happy to tuck into your meal, having worked up an appetite for lunch, but it’s barely more than a second after finishing your first helping that your phone buzzes. 

You slip it out casually, frowning when you see it’s a notification that you’ve been added to a group-chat. 

---

hoseok: how is everyone enjoying their dinner?

> ...this isnt everyone lmao

hoseok: if you're going to be cheeky now, it'll just make things worse for you later princess.

gukkie: what is going ON hobi hyung >:( jinnie hyung is gonna eat all the gimbap and i didn't even have any yet ;-;

hoseok: i have a proposition.

> ominous but go on

hoseok: i'm wondering if you two would be interested in being my pretty little slaves tonight?

gukkie: that's illegal hyung ???

> i assume he means in a sexual context guk

hoseok: in a scene, jungkook.
hoseok: yes.
hoseok: the red room sent over more supplies, and i have some red rope i'm dying to try out. have you been tied up before, jungkook? i know y/n has.

gukkie: um
gukkie: ngl this is a little out of nowhere hyung 0.0

hoseok: if you aren't interested, i'm sure y/n and i can play alone.

gukkie: don't leave me out hyungie !!
gukkie: i've been tied up before o.o

> hobi why r u texting us this at the table ? i think yoongi is getting sus

hoseok: my name isn't hobi or hoseok tonight, it's master.
hoseok: are you interested or not? if you are, we're playing on my terms.

> ok fuck it why not
> im down

gukkie: aye aye captain !!
gukkie: i mean master
gukkie: :D

> what r ur terms then,,, master

hoseok: i want the two of you to leave the table after you've finished your cake and go to jungkook's room. wait for me there.

 

hoseok: i said after, jungkook, not now!

gukkie: o.o i ate cake earlier

hoseok: so it wasn't the seagulls and vultures?

gukkie: uh oh my secret is out
gukkie: better punish me master

---

After that, you smother a scoff and slip your phone back into your pocket, hoping if your cheeks are red they can safely be attributed to the alcohol.

Glancing up, you see Jungkook stand up suddenly, eyes wide with barely-contained excitement as he picks up his bowl, chopsticks and champagne flute, scurrying over to dump them in the sink before disappearing upstairs. Yoongi stares at his empty seat in confusion, but shrugs and takes another mouthful of cake. You eat yours quickly enough that your stomach flips, or perhaps that’s just the anticipation.

After you’re done it takes you a few moments to build up the courage to look across to Hoseok, feeling his gaze hot on your skin. When you do, your eyes lock immediately, but he just continues to stare, lips pressed in a narrow line. 

Your heart leaps for a moment, wondering what that hard gaze means for you later on. Silently, as Taehyung continues to explain something to him with a mouth half-full of food, Hoseok lifts his eyebrow once, gaze darting to the roof. The message is clear. Go upstairs.

Biting your lip, you let Namjoon know you’re heading up, waving off his concern until he’s pulled back into a thread of conversation. You try to ignore the uncertain adrenaline rush that makes your hands tremble and your core throb all the way upstairs, until you’re knocking on Jungkook’s door.

The two of you share a look once he opens the door, one of anticipation and desire, and you let out a breathy chuckle. 

“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?” you ask rhetorically, stepping in and collapsing onto the bed. 

“I’ll take it if it means getting a good fuck,” he states matter-of-factly, sitting himself beside you and tucking his legs up. “Besides; I’ve wanted to see Hobi-hyung in action for a while.” 

Sitting up, you think back to that day in the confessional booth, where he had so easily made you fall apart without even taking a single item of clothing off. You wondered if he’d deprive you of his body tonight as well. 

“I think he’s angry at me,” you admit, “before I left, he looked… intense.” 

“Why would he be angry at you?” Jungkook asks with a frown, his hand slipping under the baggy fabric of his black tee, rubbing at his shoulder like he’s aching to take the item off. 

You go to shrug, but then your mind flicks back to this morning. “The elimination,” you realise, dread rising in your stomach just as much as your arousal is. “I think he knows I was going to eliminate him.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen, round enough to be saucers. “Wait, really? Why him?”

You find the words dry up in your throat. “I- God, I don’t know. How am I meant to choose anyone when you’re all amazing? Maybe his had the least impact on me, I suppose.” You eye the door to the walkway warily. “I guess he’s determined to change that now.” 

Instead of replying, you’re taken aback when Jungkook throws his arms around you in a tight hug, his long hair brushing at your neck and shoulder as he tucks his chin into the hollow of your collarbone. Hesitantly, you bring your own arms up to hug him back, feeling your tension melt in the warm embrace.

“It must be so hard,” he murmurs, “I don’t think Hobi-hyung is really mad, you know? He probably just feels like he wasn’t good enough for you and wants to prove himself.” 

This thought just sends another spike of guilt through you, but you have no time to dwell on it before the door is clicking open, making you and Jungkook instinctively jump apart. 

Hoseok stands there, as intimidating as last time in all-black. Though he’s wearing just socks instead of the heavy duty boots he was in that day, there’s no denying the power he holds in the clothes he wears like armour. Leather pants so snug they’re like a second skin and a black long-sleeved shirt, tight but breathable cotton with a harness of thin leather straps providing some structure. His raven hair is swept back, but just a single stray lock hangs low over his brow, drawing your eyes back to his. “Starting without me?” he questions lightly, though his face is devoid of humour.

You swallow hard. “No… Master,” you add, seeing the expectant look on his face. Once he steps further into the room, you notice the black bag that was previously hidden behind his back. The duffel bag from last time. You suck in a breath and clench your thighs before you can even think to stop yourself, and Hoseok’s positively gleam at the sound. 

“Both of you have been very naughty today,” he explains, dumping the bag on the bed beside Jungkook, beginning to casually pull a heap of bright red nylon rope out. “Little Jungkookie ate the cake that Jin-hyung worked so hard on, even when he was specifically asked not to. And Y/n… Y/n knows exactly what she did.” Your eyes widen when Hoseok sets the multiple lengths of rope to one side in a neat folded coil and reaches back into the bag to produce a pair of wide, heavy-duty shears.

“Woah, hyung,” Jungkook exclaims in alarm, “I can apologise for the cake, I-”

“Settle, Jungkook, it’s okay,” Hoseok explains softly. “I told you we’re gonna be tying you up, yeah? This is so that we can cut the ropes quickly in case you want out. They aren’t part of the scene.”

You feel a thrill run through your veins at the gentle click of metal resting on the nightstand once Hoseok sets the scissors down. He hadn’t needed them for when your arms were tied. It meant that whatever you were going to do tonight would be more intense. The thought of everyone else downstairs having a good time and hanging out while you and Jungkook were up here getting bound by Hoseok… it somehow feels even more illicit and dirty. 

“Let’s do Jungkookie first, hm?” the dom proposes. “I’ve been wanting to see what you’d look like all prettied up for me. Choose red just for you.” 

Jungkook positively preens at the compliment, hands tucking into his lap and chest puffing out. “I’m excited, Master!”

Hoseok gestures for Jungkook to remove his clothes with a flat expression. “Don’t be,” he retorts calmly, “this isn’t a reward, it’s discipline. We’re going to learn a lesson about behaving.”

The camboy trembles, hastily shucking off his baggy shirt and pushing his sweatpants down, naked except for a pair of white socks. Your breath is taken away by how easily he bares himself to the cameras and to the two of you, eyes eager and nervous as Hoseok picks up one of the longer lengths of rope.

“I want you to kneel, Jungkookie,” Hoseok instructs, “kneel on the bed for me, arms at your sides.” 

Jungkook obeys, breath hitching as Hoseok approaches, passing the coil over his palm. You watch with baited breath as a bright red strand of rope is run around his narrow waist. As the professional dom begins looping, knotting and wrapping the rope around Jungkook’s torso, the boy’s eyes grow lidded, cock twitching as it rests back against his lower abdomen. 

It takes a while, but time is as smooth as velvet in the soft silence of the room, just gentle breaths and the whir of nylon rope sliding so beautifully along Jungkook’s skin. 

By the time Hoseok is done, Jungkook’s eyes barely open, so content with the feeling of being patiently wrapped up, and he hums lightly as Hoseok rechecks the tightness of each loop, slipping two fingers between rope and skin in several places. 

Rather than bondage or restraint, this looks like art. An elaborate harness of red contrasts beautifully against the pale golden flesh below, hardness of his chest and abs softened by the vaguely fishnet pattern, loops that interlock and curve across his body gracefully, the most careful and precise lattice of scarlet ropes.

“Pretty, isn’t he?” Hoseok questions, and a finger comes down to run through the glossy precum that has been smeared onto Jungkook’s lower stomach. The boy hisses, arching his hips up in search of contact, but all it takes is a sharp swat at the head of his cock and Jungkook is whining, thighs flexing with the force of keeping still. “Patience, my little prince,” Hoseok tuts, patting Jungkook’s cheek with a hand still wet with the camboy’s own precum, “we’re gonna teach you how to be patient today.”

Jungkook groans low in his throat, lips parting at the term of endearment, and Hoseok grins at it, tiger-like. 

“Oh, do you like that, hm? Wanna be my special prince today?” Hoseok runs his fingers through Jungkook’s long hair, the camboy sucking in a sharp breath when they snag on some knots. Jungkook nods, eyes round and glittering as he looks up at his Master. Hoseok pouts, tapping him once on the end of his button nose. “It’s a shame you weren’t behaving today, then wasn’t it? Maybe if you’re good for me tonight, you can earn it.”

Jungkook’s brows lift pleadingly, looking so small under Hoseok’s harsh stare. “I’ll be good, though, Master.”

“Mm, I’m sure you will,” Hoseok confirms, swiping a thumb over Jungkook’s nipple to make him shiver, before he fixes an iron gaze onto you.

You swallow, slipping out of your clothes as quickly as you can once he gives the same gesture as before, crossing your legs and arms to try and preserve some dignity. Hoseok just tuts, picking up two of the remaining sections of nylon rope, only one still left waiting on the bed. 

“Hands at your sides, kneeling,” he instructs sharply, and you feel the way your walls clench at the authority in his voice as you hustle to get into position. 

The harness he puts you in is different to Jungkook’s, accentuating your breasts with bands both above and below them, leaving your stomach free but doubling the rope over so that every loop that wraps around you is twice as thick. The final tie is slipped up between your breasts, around the back of your neck and tucking back down to hold it all together, and your breath shallows at the secure feeling of the rope. 

It’s peaceful; the warm stripes of friction as he pulls strands through loops, the gentle flicking of the ends against your skin until he folds them away, the way it embraces your chest so snugly, but not too tight. It’s only once he’s done checking the rope like he did with Jungkook that he picks up the second, shorter length of nylon, and by then you already feel the sleepy yet electric haze of subspace seeping throughout your body.

“Hands,” he instructs, and you hold them out for him, watching with heightened arousal as he binds them, the rope wrapping around and between your wrists until they’re locked together. Last time your hands were bound behind your back but like this, you can watch him as he works.

It’s quick - a testament to his expertise - but you spend every moment with your eyes locked onto him. The eyes, gleaming with control and satisfaction, the pink tip of his tongue poking out just slightly as he focuses. His thin fingers, looping and wrapping and knotting with such skill. 

His last move, eyes darting up and smirking once he catches you watching him, is to connect the thick cuff-like ropes to the top of your harness, pinning them up to your chest, folded hands resting at the base of your throat. You instinctively tug once he’s done, only to feel the rope around your back tighten and dig in, but no distance made. The feeling of being at his mercy only adds to the slick gathering between your thighs. 

Once he steps back, eying the two of you up, your breath catches in your throat. Both you and Jungkook are fully naked, somehow feeling even more vulnerable in the rope, and Hoseok stands across from the bed in all his black leather glory, eyes raking over you like he’s assessing his work. 

“Are you gonna touch us, Master?” Jungkook questions in a small voice, fingers clutching at his own thighs, cock flushed and needy between them. 

“Not you yet, Jungkookie. Gotta warm Y/n up first.” Your eyes widen - for what? - but Hoseok is moving closer run a hand down Jungkook’s back, fingers jumping over the strands of rope. “Do you wanna help me, baby?”

Jungkook nods, blushing when Hoseok pinches lightly at his cheek. 

Hoseok leans over to you, carding his fingers into your hair and curling them in so that he can hold you steady. Like this, kneeling on the bed, you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, but he just tuts, holding you face-forward to Jungkook. “You wanna give her a kiss, Kookie?”

You swallow, fingers interlocking together as you look over to the camboy. He looks so needy, blissed out and pretty in his red rope, cock untouched and weeping. Your lips part automatically, tongue darting out to wet your lips and you don’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes are drawn to it, lids now as he nods. 

With your hands pinned to your chest and kneeling, you don’t feel able to meet him halfway so you just wait as Jungkook crawls to you, glancing up at Hoseok for permission before burying your hands in your hair alongside the dom’s. With barely a second to suck in a breath, Jungkook ducks his head, his lips descending onto yours with sweet, unrestrained need. 

Unable to touch him back, you let your eyes slip shut with the soft presses of his mouth, taking everything he gives you. Everything about Jungkook in this moment is soft; his lips, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones, even the subtle scent of vanilla as his hair tickles your face - but the stiff grip in your hair is anything but, reminding you where exactly you are and the hand you’re under.

Your breath hitches as two things happen at once; Jungkook’s tongue presses into your mouth, deepening the kiss, and behind you Hoseok shifts, getting up on the bed behind you. Though you can’t see him, you become even more aware of his commanding presence, through the simple gesture of a fingertip, tracing beside lines of rope with a touch so light you shiver.

“You both look so pretty for me,” Hoseok murmurs warmly, his voice closer than you’d expected him to be, sounding like it’s right beside your air. Jungkook doubles his efforts in response, and your core is alight with excitement when you instinctively go to touch him, only to be reminded of the restraint you’re in. 

Jungkook kisses without abandon, not hurried but deep and purposeful. Though you still tremble under Hoseok’s teasing touch, your mind is so enraptured by Jungkook’s tongue in your mouth and teeth on your lips that you lose track of it. 

The camboy doesn’t dare venture his hands further than your face, cupping it so tenderly as he delves into you, so your eyes fly open with shock when two fingers are suddenly slipping through your folds, running over your clit for a single delicious moment of pleasure. You moan in shock and pull away to look down.

Between your kneeling legs is the slender but calloused hand of your Master himself, wrapped around your front and slipping inside you without question like you’re hisHis to explore, his to ruin. You pant at the intrusion of two fingers, clenching around him, but his only response is to tug suddenly at your hair, pulling your gaze back up again.

Nipping sharply at the bridge of your ear, Hoseok scolds you. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he growls harshly, “did I?”

“Sorry, Master,” you reply without thinking, barely a moment before you let out a muffled squeak from Jungkook joining you together again, wasting no time to obey. 

Hoseok doesn’t stop his motions between your legs; on the contrary, he continues without pause, fingers moving inside you with a steady urgency. 

For a while, your brows furrow, hips rocking below him. He keeps missing your g-spot, fingers too straight to press against it on each thrust, and he moves to three fingers without touching your clit at all, hand held foward off of you to avoid friction. You moan brokenly into Jungkook’s mouth as you realise Hoseok’s doing it intentionally, stretching you out almost clinically, without regard or want for your pleasure. You go weak at the thought, sinking forward into Jungkook’s embrace, but soon enough the fingers are removed from you completely. Empty and unsatisfied just like earlier, you huff and begin to kiss the camboy more frantically, desperate for some pleasure to replace it. 

But Hoseok clearly isn’t having it. “Stop,” he commands shortly, “hands off.”

Jungkook sits back quickly, making sure you won’t slump over before he presses his hands to his thighs again, cock twitching at the continued neglect. Blinking, he licks his swollen lips and glances behind you to Hoseok in confusion. “Master?”

Your mouth goes dry when you hear the unmistakable sound of a zip being lowered. Hoseok’s hand leaves your hair suddenly, and you feel unmoored between the two men, just you and your hands tucked under your chin. “You tasted her pretty little pussy in Week One, didn’t you, Jungkookie? Would you like her to return the favour?”

Eyes wide, you drop your gaze down to Jungkook’s aching dick, as it twitches and leaks another thin trail of precum, the boy groaning. “Please, Master.” His fingers flex, holding back from touching it. “‘Hurts,” he whines.

You bite your lip, mouth watering. He’s not as big as Namjoon, but you know how fully he filled you just yesterday, and to have him in your mouth… “Please,” you croak out, fingers wiggling in the air as you’re unable to lower yourself to him. 

“Good girl,” Hoseok praises, hands strong on your shoulders as he helps you down, elbows propping yourself up awkwardly in the space that Jungkook’s shuffled back from. “Gotta warm Kookie up too, don’t we? Open up, princess.”

Like this, you’re able to keep upright, but barely, craning your neck to look up at Jungkook. His cock is in front of you, and this close you can see just how flushed it is, the tip almost perfect. Hoping your pleading gaze can communicate your desperation, you open your mouth, letting your tongue rest just over your bottom lip.

Jungkook’s brows furrow in wanton need as he glances towards Hoseok. “Can I touch her, Master? Help her?”

“Of course,” Hoseok’s voice allows from behind you, palms running over the flesh of your ass, “but my little prince better not cum.”

Jungkook visibly shivers at the nickname, hips jerking uselessly. “Y-yes, Master,” he allows, before tipping your chin up so gently, gripping himself to guide his length into your waiting mouth. 

You moan the moment your lips wrap around his tip, the tang of his precum bursting on your tongue as you flick it over the slit, making Jungkook thrust up again, enough that his cock reaches the back of your mouth. You’re barely able to avoid gagging, but you inhale harshly through your nose, blinking up at him as he brushes your hair back with a shaky apology. 

Knowing he can’t orgasm, Jungkook seems happy enough to lazily roll his hips, just enjoying the wet warmth around him as you follow his rhythm, enjoying the slight ache of your jaw around his girth. Hoseok gives you only a few moments to reach this equilibrium before you feel his cock lining up against you. 

Eyes widening, you’re given no time to prepare as he slides inside you, slowly but without pause, making your back arch with the intrusion.

You moan, muffled, as Hoseok pulls out and begins to pick up a steady pace, once again sliding right past your g-spot, not fast enough to make your toes curl and not deep enough to make your eyes roll. There’s no denying he’s doing it on purpose, and the thought that he might not let you cum at all has you whining desperately around Jungkook’s cock, loud enough that Hoseok hears.

To your disappointment, he tsks and pulls out, tugging at your hair to pull you off Jungkook. “What the fuck?” you complain bitterly, sucking off the drool that’s accumulated in the corners of your mouth. Equally deprived, Jungkook makes a noise of confusion, but before he can speak up, a commanding voice calls out to you.

“That’s it, on your back,” Hoseok orders, making you jump as he smacks the flesh of your ass. “If you’re gonna be ungrateful you won’t get anything at all.”

You pout, craning your neck to look back at him. “Hobi,” you whine, hoping to appeal to that soft inner that got you what you wanted the last time you were scening with him, but it doesn’t work. 

Impatient, his hands find your hips, flipping you around unceremoniously. Your breath is punched out of you as you’re suddenly landing on your back, and you whimper as he hooks a finger in your harness over the top of your breast, using it to tug you higher up the bed so that him and Jungkook are on either side of your waist. 

“You’ve been far better behaved,” Hoseok directs at Jungkook casually, reaching into the duffle bag to pull out a square foil packet, “so you’ll get my cock instead.”

Jungkook bites his lip harshly, shuffling on his knees as Hoseok rolls a condom on. “Thank you, Master,” he replies politely, eyes lidded and needy. 

“What a good boy,” Hoseok coos, reaching over to brush a fond hand over Jungkook’s cheek. “Do you wanna fuck Y/n too, my little prince?” You let out a low groan at the prospect, at the way Hoseok speaks for you like you’re a toy of his. The thought is more erotic than you’d expect, and your legs part unconsciously.

Jungkook whimpers at the sight, dark hair curling at his temples with perspiration. “Please, Master.”

“Go on, then, baby.” Hoseok gestures for him to straddle you, and you whimper as Jungkook’s form blocks the light from the ceiling, framing him in a silhouette of dark hair. 

Your legs part further as he settles between them, cock brushing between your folds lightly until he puts a hand down to line himself up. With one arm bracing himself, Jungkook slowly drives his cock deep inside you, small rocking motions to get you accustomed to him as he bottoms out. The two of you groan in unison, the feeling of being full again like bliss.

Before Jungkook can set a pace, you hear Hoseok’s voice again behind him. “There’s only one thing,” the dom adds in an apologetic tone, “Y/n hasn’t earned an orgasm yet, not like my sweet prince has. If you want to fuck her, Jungkookie, she better not cum.”

You let out a frustrated moan, heel kicking into the mattress. “Fuck,” you whine, hips already rocking against Jungkook’s length inside of you, “are you serious?”

Calmly, Hoseok clicks open a bottle of what must be lube, and you feel Jungkook go lax above you, holding his weight off of your torso but dropping his head onto the bed beside yours, groaning lowly. “Of course I’m serious,” he explains simply as he preps Jungkook with his fingers, “I’m doing you a favour, Y/n. This way you won’t make the same mistake twice.”

You sob, feeling Jungkook twitch inside you from the pleasure he’s receiving from Hoseok. As the dom finally deems Jungkook ready and lines himself up, you realise why Hoseok was so popular at his job. Handling two subs, let alone one who was getting punished and one who was now getting rewarded, was a tough balance, and yet he does it with such cool and professional ease. 

Jungkook curses, rocking his hips with stuttered gasps, and you feel the impact of Hoseok’s hips through Jungkook’s body as he thrusts the first time, the camboy hurriedly throwing his other arm up on the other side of your head to prop himself up with more stability. You can feel the rhythm as he gets fucked, and the way his chest heaves, breaths panting over your bare shoulder. 

With your hands tied to your chest and lain on your back, you quickly realise there is nothing you can do to chase any pleasure for yourself, and you let out another low sob. You won’t be making the same mistake twice indeed, you muse as Jungkook barely shifts inside you. He feels so good, but it’s just not enough for you to get anywhere close to your own high. The lesson has most certainly been learned; if you want pleasure, you play by Hoseok’s rules.

“Please, Master,” you pipe up desperately, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder to the dom’s face, calm even as his hips rock with the graceful fluidity of a dancer, every stroke making Jungkook cry out. “I’ll do anything, Master, I’m sorry for being bad, just please let me come!”

A grin spreads across his face, satisfied, even as he grunts from exertion, Jungkook trembling above you as he’s brought mercilessly to the edge. “It’s too late for that,” Hoseok pants out with a chuckle, “it’s already time for my little prince to cum.”

Jungkook moans, a high-pitched keen at the pet-name, and the sound is so sinful you can’t help but clench, making him stiffen impossibly inside you. 

It only takes a thrust or two more, and a gruff command to cum before Jungkook does just that, spilling inside you with a drawn-out whine, thanking his Master with every breath he can suck into his lungs. 

He manages to keep his weight off of you as he rides his high, Hoseok fucking him into oversensitivity before he pulls out, leaving briefly to discard the condom. Jungkook pulls out of you with a wince, but a satisfied one, and rolls over onto his back, running his fingers under the lines of rope lazily as he catches his breath.

Once Hoseok returns, he begins untying you first, and as your wrists are loosened from your chest and promptly released, the cool air on your skin feels like defeat. Your eyes slip shut, a pout no doubt on your lips as you give him nothing but dead weight, forcing the professional to manhandle your torso as he undoes the rope bit by bit. 

You open your eyes once he’s done, frowning at him as he releases the rope from Jungkook’s body. Without looking, Hoseok chastises you. “Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds, “I’m sure next time you’ll be behaved like our Jungkookie here.” The boy in question preens softly at the compliment, blinking up at Hoseok as the dom brushes his hair out of his eyes.

The sight warms your heart, and you can’t deny that Hoseok has the right to discipline you, no doubt feeling self-conscious about his place on the show. And the feeling of him playing you so skilfully is something that will stick with you for a good while. You press your thighs together, sighing out at the slick still between them.

After finishing with Jungkook, speaking quietly with him in praise or reassurance, he comes back around to you, rubbing at the few red marks on your chest and wrists that have appeared from your movements. His eyes search your face, and you’re surprised to see the absolute calm in them, clearly switched out of the Master persona and just into a dominant but caring one. “Not hurt?” 

You shake your head after taking the time to really think it through, wiggling your fingers and toes.

“Not angry?” 

Again, you take a moment to consider, but shake your head.

Hoseok smiles down at you, warm as he squeezes your hands fondly. “Good. Now I know you can’t sleep in your own bed, so Jungkookie has kindly offered for you to stay here with him. Take care of each other, okay? I’m just down the hall.”

By the time Hoseok zips up his pants - you note that even after all that, you hadn’t seen him properly naked - and gathers his bag, Jungkook’s managed to slip his legs under the blankets, snoring away peacefully with the aftermath of a good orgasm.

After the dom leaves, you get under the covers yourself, watching the relaxing cycle of Jungkook’s chest rising and falling, the way his eyes flutter lightly in his sleep, but it doesn’t lull you to unconsciousness.

Instead, the unsatisfied throb between your legs just grows more ferocious than ever. If you could just get yourself off…

Your hand trails down, slipping between your legs naturally, but the first swipe of your index finger against your clit gives you pause. Hoseok had pretty clearly stated that you weren’t to masturbate without permission unless you were in a scene with another contestant and, well… 

You grimace as Jungkook snuffles in his sleep, wriggling around to get more comfortable. You can’t exactly wake him up.

Which leaves you with only one option.

Fuck it. As quietly as you can, you slip out of bed, stumbling over to your pile of clothes. After retrieving your phone - still somehow tucked neatly into your pants pocket - you hop back into bed and seek out the one contact who can alleviate your need. Hoseok himself.

---

> ur still awake right?

| i am indeed. to what do i owe the pleasure?

> u didnt let me cum

| astounding observation.

> :(
> dont be an asshole

| okay, that's fair. go ahead.

> go ahead?

| ...
| i assume you're texting me because you now want permission to masturbate.

> :(
> yeah :(
> can i?
> :)

| if you beg like that too much, i might mistake you for jungkook.

> if i act like him will u let me cum then?

 

> hoseok :(

 

> master im sorry :( i just really wanna cum :( what do u even want from me?
> u punish me and then reward guk right in front of me just to make a point
> like im SORRY i was gonna vote u out but it had to be SOMEONE u know??? this sucks for me too

| i'll let you masturbate if you answer me two questions.

> ok thank you! i can do that

| first question. did you feel guilty when you went to vote me out?

> well yeah of course :( i felt awful
> especially when i realised u knew
> second question?

| do you still feel guilty now?

---

You take a chance to mull this over, that sharp pang and dull ache in your stomach that had been afflicting you all day had been replaced by a calmness that you hadn't felt in a long time. Taking a deep breath, you turn back to your phone.

---

> no
> i guess i dont

| punishing you absolved your guilt over the situation.
| i hope you can understand why you needed it.

> ...so everybody in this house a therapist now ? jin will NOT be happy
> but on a serious note, yeah, i do
> thank you, hobi

| you're most welcome
| i don't hold it against you, but i do hope i can prove myself worthy of staying in a little longer.
| is jungkook asleep?

> yea he is
> out like a light

| thought he would be.
| you know what that means, princess?

> uhhhh
> no?

| it means when you touch that pretty little pussy of yours, you'll need to be quiet.

> i can be quiet

| good girl.
| you're already stretched out from earlier, hm?
| let's start with two fingers, princess. could you take that?

> yeah

> im using two fingers master
> can i have another

| greedy.
| you may.

> i wanna cum hoseokie
> can i cum

|not yet.
| i want to hear you.

---

You answer the call with shaking fingers, those not still buried inside you. When Hoseok’s voice comes through, it’s thankfully quiet and low, but the words still make you keen.

“Princess couldn’t wait until the morning, hm?” Hoseok chuckles quietly at your whine of response. “That’s okay. Let Master help you.”

You sigh out, sitting the phone so that it lies on the pillow beside you. “Please, Master,” you whisper, “can I touch my clit?”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “such a polite girl now. Baby took her lesson well. You can touch it, princess. Get yourself close for me.”

When you change the angle of the fingers thrusting inside you to make room to rub at your clit, you could cry from the satisfaction, biting your lip to muffle the moan that’s pulled from your lungs. 

Glancing quickly beside you to ensure Jungkook’s asleep, the sight of him sleeping so peacefully as you get off right beside him has you clenching down, and your back arches off the bed. 

Your high is close, and the faster you strum your clit frantically, the more you pant, desperate to keep quiet. Your mouth drops open as you suddenly feel the orgasm approaching, and you turn to the phone on the pillow, getting close enough that he can hear your whisper. “I’m go-gonna cum, Hoseokie, fuck,” you choke out before quickly pressing your lips together, preventing further noise.

His voice is low velvet on the phone, a calm command. “Cum for Master now, princess.”

You feel your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, crashing so violently that you curl over your hands, shivering and convulsing as pleasure rocks every inch of your body. As it floods you entirely, you feel hot tears stream down your face, ones you didn’t even know you were shedding. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves and you don’t stop your fingers until there’s no more pleasure left to be milked from you. 

When you finally cum down from your high, panting, you fumble clumsily for the phone. “Tha-thank you, Master.”

Perhaps it’s the post-orgasm delirium, but you swear you hear the smile in his voice when he murmurs, “you’re most welcome, princess. Now get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

After hanging up, you lock your phone and chuck it down onto the carpet beside the bed carelessly, the wetness between your thighs no longer uncomfortable, now just a satisfying reminder of the pleasure he finally allowed you. Taking one last look at the tranquil face of Jungkook as he slept, you let yourself join him in a blissful unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

One thing you learn the morning after, is that Hoseok is a deceptively bad cook.

Of course you’re grateful for the breakfast in bed he kindly prepared you and Jungkook - the latter still half-asleep and unable to go more than five seconds without yawning - but it’s hard to comprehend that the man in front of you now, eating cereal with a fork, is the same one that wrecked you so elegantly last night.

“Why is the toast chewy? Are we still being punished?” Jungkook moans sombrely around a mouthful, eyes dazed.

Hoseok sets his fork back in the bowl with a clatter, reaching out to poke Jungkook with a foot. “Be grateful, brat. I made that out of love.”

The younger man stares bleakly down at his plate. “I’d love to have a  pancake right now instead.”

You wince at Hoseok’s disappointed expression, taking a mouthful of the strangely floppy toast. “It’s… nice and warm,” you offer up, failing to find anything else to compliment.

Hoseok beams. “Thank you. While I was doing my cereal, it got a bit cold, so I heated it up in the microwave.”

Your heart sinks despairingly into your stomach, which roils at the prospect. “Ah,” you muse hollowly.

“Eat up!” the dom cheers. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Still smiling proudly, he digs his fork into the almost full bowl of cereal and begins chowing down.

Jungkook shares a silent stare with you, and you turn back to your plate. “Thanks for breakfast, Hoseok,” you sigh, and brace yourself for the meal ahead.

image

After breakfast, you get dressed in a pair of shorts and a comfy shirt, planning on spending the day inside relaxing. But the moment you see Jin and Taehyung running around on the gravel outside, a small darting form evading their flailing arms, you realise how foolish you were to expect that a day in the villa could be anything remote to uneventful.

Rushing out the front door still in your socks, you step down to the base of the concrete entryway, staring in shock at the two men.

Taehyung’s face is bright with a boxy grin, laughing maniacally as he rushes to and fro, still in his version of pyjamas - loose boxer shorts and a Celine Dion t-shirt. “Hyung, that way!” he hoots cheerily to Jin, feet crunching noisily on the gravel.

The other man, considerably less happy (or perhaps the frown was one of absolute concentration), huffs at the command. “It’s your fuckin’ dog, Tae, why isn’t it going to you?”

Between them, panting and grinning, is a small dog with short fur, nails clicking on the gravel. It can’t be taller than knee-height, with wide eyes and a small black nose. It probably is white or cream coloured, but the thick crusting of dirt all over makes it hard to tell.

“It’s not my dog, I just found him!” Taehyung insists, before crouching down, clicking his tongue. “Mango, c’mere boy! Come to daddy.”

Jin comes to a stop with a groan, chest heaving. “Well, now you’re just going to scar the poor thing.”

Taehyung glares, but doesn’t stop cooing at the dog, who’s now eying him up suspiciously. “Come on, boy, daddy just wants to help, he’ll give you a nice, warm bath and some treats. Sound nice, Mango? C’mere!”

With the cool disdain that you’ve never seen in a dog before, Mango lifts his chin and turns tail, gracefully trotting over to Jin, rubbing his face against the man’s shin.

Taehyung gasps in abject horror at the betrayal, sinking fully onto the rough gravel of the driveway, but Jin just grins and bends down, gently scratching the dog’s head.

You let out a disbelieving laugh at the scene, drawing their attention. “What is going on?”

Immediately, the two men point at each other accusingly, the dog - Mango - snuffling at Jin’s hand when he realises his petting has ceased.

Jin calmly resumes stroking the mutt with a mellow expression. “Taehyung kidnapped a dog.”

“I did not!” the younger man protests vehemently. “I found him wandering around all by himself and I put out some food for him.” Taehyung turns to you with desperate eyes. “Jin called him filthy!”

“I did,” the therapist admits easily, “‘cause he is.” Crouching down, he gets closer to eye-level and pouts. “All this mud and dirt on you, hm? Not nice, is it? Poor bo-” Jin cuts himself off as the dog rolls over on its back, wiggling against the gravel happily. The three of you stare in silence for a few moments at Mango, before Jin slowly pans up to stare at Taehyung. “You thought Mango was a boy this whole time?”

Taehyung scratches his head with a helpless shrug. “Well, I didn’t think to check his dick for confirmation! I mean, her dick. No dick. Uh…”

Jin’s ignoring him, however, in favour of giving Mango tummy rubs, grinning at the whipping of her tail as it wags. “Oh, Taehyungie is so mean to you, isn’t he? Poor girl. I wouldn’t trust him with a cactus,” he admits in a mock whisper.

“I resent that,” Taehyung shouts lowly, voice getting louder as he gets worked up, “Cactuses don’t even have dicks, so it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Neither does Mango,” Jin quips sharply.

“Hey!” the younger boy yells, pouting at the sight of Mango snuggling up to Jin so willingly.

From behind, the sudden bang of a fist on glass makes you jump. Whirling around, you watch in bewilderment as Jimin rushes outside, eyes wide and mouth rounded at the sight.

“What the fuck is all the racket about?” he exclaims in bewilderment. “We’re trying to watch a movie but we can’t hear a thing over the sounds you’re- is that a dog?”

“Mango!” Taehyung chimes. “H- She’s my dog!”

“That wasn’t what you said earlier,” Jin begins, and Jimin tuts loudly to break off the bantering.

“Goodness, she’s a skinny little thing,” Jimin says with worry, passing you to go crouch beside Jin. He holds a hand out and smiles softly as Mango presses her nose into his palm. “Dirty, too. There’s a hose out back that does warm water, let’s clean her off and get her some food.”

Your heart warms at the same fond tone in his voice that you’d heard at Mrs. Park’s house. “I’ll go get some soap and towels,” you offer, “I need to go get my shoes on anyway.”

Jimin, already fully dressed in tight blue jeans and a white t-shirt - the most casual you’d seen him yet - turns around to nod at you. “Thank you,” he chirps, “we’ll be around back.”

By the time you get ready and come back with the supplies, Taehyung is already manning the hose, running his fingers through the stream to wait for it to warm up as he chats away with Jimin. Clearly a fan of the oldest, Mango is still happily hanging around Jin’s ankles, whole body wagging as she gets her ears scratched.

Jimin glances up when you round the corner, and rushes forward to take the items from your hands. “Thank you, let’s hope-” He pauses, staring down at the bottle. “Is this my hand-soap?”

You suppress a sheepish grin. “It says mild and unscented, I thought it would be better for Mango than body wash.”

“Fair enough,” Jimin allows, before turning back around to the other two. “Alright, let’s hope Mango likes water.”

As it turns out, Mango positively thrives with the water, panting happily as her fur is soaked with the warm water. Crouching to your side, you squirt some soap out onto her back, and you and Jimin begin massaging it in on either side of her while Jin holds up her head to keep it free from suds.

It takes a while, but Mango is patient, and you’re determined to make sure all the grit and dirt accumulated from a life of sleeping rough is washed away. Beneath the matted filth is beautiful white fur, the palest brown in places. With tiny feet and delicate ears, she may be a mutt but she’s a beautiful one, and out of the corner of your eye you can see Jin’s fond smile as he stares into her baleful eyes.

Taehyung rinses her down, the suds collecting on the back lawn, and before any of you even think to get away, Mango braces herself and shakes, spraying droplets all over the four of you.

Closest to her body, it’s you and Jimin that cop most of the downpour, and you hiss at the feeling of it soaking your shirt and running down your neck. Taehyung gasps and ditches the hose to chuck a towel over her wet body, but the damage has been done.

Across from you, on the other side of Mango, Jimin’s pink lips are rounded gracefully in a gasp, eyes clenched shut. You can’t help but grin as he slowly blinks away the water in his eyes with a low moan of disappointment, the delicately-applied makeup now smudging, a watery layer of mascara ringing his eyes. When he stretches up into a crouch, his pants are spotted with water though mostly okay, and it’s clear his shirt displays the majority of the water.

Clinging to him obscenely, the thin white cotton is made see-through with the effect of Mango’s shake-off. It exposes the harsh black lines of his tattoo, which winds around his ribcage, nevermind. You’d seen it laid bare twice before, but you’d been too wound up from his teasing to even really look. Now, though, you admire the way it stands out so starkly even behind a layer of fabric, the edges blurred but still strong and pure black.

As he huffs and wrings out the fabric, Taehyung cackles behind him, and Jimin’s face darkens. Without any time for the younger man to react, Jimin’s grabs the still-running hose and turns it onto Taehyung, drenching him with a triumphant yell.

“Hey!” Taehyung screeches, hair covering his eyes heavily as his pyjamas sag against his body. “No fair!”

You jump away as Taehyung begins to wrestle with Jimin for the hose, the two grinning like idiots even as they scrabble.

Jin, calmly patting down Mango, chooses to instead lift her into his arms bundled in the towel. He crooks his head at you. “Let’s go down to the pool and dry off a bit in the sun,” he suggests. “Save getting caught in the middle of this battle.”

You squint against the glare of the late morning sun that glints off the pool. You’ve never been there yourself or seen anyone swim in it, and its lack of use is clear by the uneven layer of leaves that floats across its surface. “If you dunk me in that dirty-ass pool, I’ll kill you.” Even with the venom in your words, you follow him over, the chaos of the two boys left behind growing quieter and quieter.

“Don’t worry,” Jin assures you sweetly, “I’ll clean it first.” With that, he steps up onto the concrete patio that surrounds the large rectangle and makes his way over to the three haphazard pool chairs beside the edge. “You and Mango can relax here.”

Eying him suspiciously, you sit on the gauzy canvas of one of the lounge chairs and lean back, letting out a sigh as the warm of the sun settles onto your skin like a blanket. “Fine,” you sigh out, too comfortable to protest, “just while Mango dries off.”

Jin works quietly, without haste. All you hear as you throw an arm over your eyes is the occasional tinkling of water and the snuffling of the dog Jin sat down beside you.

With the sun beating down on you, warming your soaked shirt, you let your mind wander lazily. You hadn’t really had a chance to properly think after the elimination. Or lack of, you suppose. All of Monday had you feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt, until Hoseok served your penance and allowed you to put your mind at ease again. Now, though, you take a chance to think over how the game has changed.

It was moments like earlier, when groups of you were together and laughing, that made you happy to be here. The thought that you were no longer evicting one contestant a week felt like a hundred-year burden finally being lifted off your shoulders.

Though of course, with all the good, came bad, too. The guys said they wouldn’t take you personally, and at least now everyone would know the decision was based on sex alone, but it didn’t take a psychic to see how bad things could turn if someone took it wrong. Already you can picture fights, sulking, resentment, and the thought scares you.  

And then the punishment for you touching them. It was something you hadn’t seen coming for a second, though all of Sejin’s twists had gotten you off-guard. The thought that the other guys would have control over what you wore if you ever slipped up gives you pause. You’re confident in your body, but they would be well within their rights to make you wear something humiliating. You bite down hard on your tongue. Just don’t fuck the outed members, you hiss at yourself. Easy as that.

Not so easy, perhaps, when the thought of every one of them made your heart ache and shift in your chest.

“You aren’t asleep, are you?”

You shoot up in fright at the sudden exclamation, startled out of your train of thought. “No, what?” your tongue fumbles, before you squint in front of you to the poolside and your mouth drops open.

As casual as ever, Jin stands on the far edge, leaning his weight on a long leaf skimmer, the net resting on the end of the pole, above his head. That isn’t what has your attention, though. As you raise a hand to block the sun, you feel your mouth water at the sight of him standing in nothing but a pair of dark grey boxers, hand on his hip casually like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“What the fuck are you doing?” is the only thing your mind can think to say.

Jin chuckles, the motion making his broad shoulders jump up and down. Your mouth drops wider open, eyes roaming his figure. Basking in the attention, he smiles broadly. “Cleaning your pool,” he answers easily, “Miss Y/n.”

Your brows knit together. “My po- Oh.” You take a moment to analyse the situation - single lady on the pool chair watching as a hot and scantily-clad young man cleans it for her. Pool boy. A bemused giggle bubbles up your throat as you remember Jin’s disbelieving reaction when he drew the card. “Really?”

Jin just shrugs. “I’m just here to do my job, Miss. Saving up money for college. But it’s so hot out here that-” Jin breaks off with a pout as you begin to crack up, curling over your own torso with the force of it. “Hey! Why are you laughing at me?”

You try to let your laughter die down enough to speak, still giggling wetly as your eyes tear up a bit from it. “Sa-saving up for college,” you make out before cracking up again. “You don’t have to pay to be a professor, Jinnie.”

His mouth drops open in offence at your quip, letting the leaf skimmer clatter onto the concrete dramatically. On the chair beside you, Mango wakes up with a start at the noise and flees, scampering off in the direction of the villa. Still offended, Jin turns and makes his way around the edge of the pool towards you with a huff. “The disrespect these days,” he declares, “I’m just a poor uni student trying to make a quick buck and all you’re doing is insulting me.”

You sit up, watching him keep your gaze step by step. The sun is beautiful on him, honeying his brown hair and bronzing the smooth skin of his chest, shoulders and arms. He’s beautiful, but of course he doesn’t need you telling him to know that. “You shouldn’t talk back to your employer, Jinnie,” you quip as he nears.

As intimidating as someone can be wearing nothing but underwear - you can spy his clothes haphazardly strewn on the concrete on the other side of the patio - Jin steps in front of the lounge chair, blotting out the sun with his broad back. “Luckily for you,” he answers smoothly, “I just finished. I’ll just collect the cash and get out of your hair.”

You stare up at him, eyes aching now that they’re not fighting against the glare of the sun. Even though you’ve never been in this situation before, and certainly don’t have much experience with role-play, the words come easy to you. “But I don’t have any money.”

His grin turns wolfish, like he’d been hoping you’d say that. Your stomach flips as he lifts one leg over the end of the lounge chair, straddling it. “I suppose I’ll just have to claim my payment in some other way.”

Your heart races as he sits down, boxers doing nothing to hide his straining erection. “Like what?” you ask weakly, breath hitching as his fingers stretch out to brush over the button of your shorts.

Jin’s eyes are hot on yours, twin points of heat everywhere they roam. First between your legs, then up to meet your gaze. “Will you let me taste you?” he asks, previous humour completely evaporated. He stares at you intensely, like nothing else is as important as this, and you find yourself nodding before you even process it.

“Wait,” you gasp as he slips open the button, zip sliding down smoothly, “out here? The others-”

“Have gone inside,” Jin cuts in easily, fingers dipping below the hem of your panties. Your breath hitches, hips lifting to help him slip them off your legs and onto the concrete beside, shoes and socks following. “We’re alone.”

The warmth of the chair’s fabric below you is strange on your skin, but Jin isn’t content with just your core being exposed. Tapping your arm, he guides you to raise them as he lifts your shirt, tossing it away in the same direction. Almost bare for him, the only thing that remains is your bra, and without hesitation his fingers find the clasp, leaning forward to capture your mouth with his suddenly as he slips the bra down your arm.

Naked beneath him, you whimper into his mouth as he presses his chest against you, arms caging you on either side. It’s been a long time since you’ve kissed him, and it feels just as heady as last time, his lips soft but so firm and thorough as they claim you.

Jin kisses with all his energy, like it’s his only purpose, and the intense way he works your mouth open and licks up into it, swirling his tongue dizzily over yours has you hooked on him, needing more even as he gives you more than you feel you can handle.

After a time, you feel him shift, and you groan past swollen lips as he slides down your body, trailing an unbroken line of kisses down your throat and chest until he’s cupping a breast in his hand, hot mouth descending on a stiff peak. You cry out, back arching with the delicious stimulation as he suckles on it needily.

“Still so sensitive,” he remarks with a chuckle, and any protest at his teasing tone is lost under the indulgent way he flicks his tongue over the bud, circling it deftly. It’s sinful, the way you watch him, watch his eyes close in bliss and your peak roll under the ministrations of his tongue, like a show of what’s to come.

Once he gives a final wet suck to bring it to its full stiffness, he moves across to the other one, thumbing the first lazily to keep those hot coals of pleasure burning inside you.

Sensing you can take it, he’s rougher with the second nipple, tugging at it with his teeth, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over it when you whimper at the sting. “Perfect for me,” his voice makes out in a gravelled tone, “you’re like a fucking four-course meal.”

You chuckle airily, though it’s cut off by a hitched whimper as he ventures lower yet again, letting his tongue and lips lead the way over the skin of your stomach, until you can feel the warmth of his breath where you need to feel him most. “Jinnie,” you breathe pleadingly, toes curling as he dips out his tongue to wet his lips.

“Will you be good while I taste you, hm?” Jin questions lowly, voice silken like his lips.

You nod with a swallow, but your throat has gone dry just watching him. The sight of his fingers digging in to the flesh of your thighs, his lips pursing, his eyes swirling with mischief and lust. “Need you, Jinnie,” you find yourself pleading again.

He hums in bemusement, and you unconsciously hold your breath as he finally dips his head down. The first contact isn’t his tongue at all, but his lips, pressed to the upper seam of your thigh. You gasp, core clenching, but he pays no mind, laying a delicate trail across your thigh, until he jumps over and begins the other side.

With a whine, you part your legs wider, bare feet grazing on the sunbaked concrete. The rough texture reminds you of the fact that you’re outside, bared to the world, and you whine again. “Jinnie, hurry.”

“Patience,” he chastises lowly, pinching the inner of your thigh between two fingers to make you jump. “I cleaned out the pool for you, the least you can do is let me enjoy you.”

You swallow down your needy moan, head falling back against the lounge chair. “Sorry,” you gasp out instead, hoping he appreciates your manners and takes mercy on you.

Instead, he just grins. “So polite,” the therapist muses, “I wonder how long that’ll last.” One at a time, slow like he’s drawing out your anticipation, he lifts your legs onto his broad shoulders, tilting your hips up to expose you to him better.

The moment he touches his tongue to your core, you know you’re fucked.

Languid, exploratory, he delves the muscle through your folds, swirling once around your sensitive clit before dipping back down again. You sigh out, enjoying every motion, but it’s far too slow, and he knows it.

As you glance down, his lips are stretched in a slick grin, which he makes no attempt to mask. Obscenely, he wraps his lips around one of yours and sucks, slurping at your juices without shame.

You sob, thighs tensing, but he holds you open calmly and gives the same ministration to the other side, collecting your arousal on his tongue like he’s savouring it. More and more leaks out of you at the feeling of him going down on your for his own pleasure, and he groans in approval.

In his grasp, you attempt to cant your hips down to angle your clit closer to his roving tongue, but he deftly ignores your attempt, devouring you at his own pace.

After the clouds pass, the sun pierces your eyes again, and you throw an arm over your face to block it out, body writhing under his slow stimulation. “Ji-Jinnie,” you hiccup, but he doesn’t even reply, fingers clutching tighter at your thighs and ass to latch you onto him firmer.

When a breeze picks up, it wafts over you, cooling the spit on your nipples and peaking them even more, and you shiver at the feeling. Hearing a distant swishing sound, you lift your arm up and glance towards the source, only to go stiff once you see.

About ten metres away, the outdoor dining area is not as empty as it was before, Yoongi pausing with two plates full of cooked meat and potatoes, eyes directly locked on you. With a flip of arousal and dread, you watch as more members of the house file out; Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoseok joining him and gawking when they see you and Jin.

Cheeks flushing violently, you push at Jin’s head. “They-they’re out here, Jin, you need to stop-” you break off as he pulls back and glances over, chin and lips shiny with your arousal.

“Lunchtime,” Yoongi calls out with a wry grin, and you groan as he continues to set the table outside, the younger ones following suit. Namjoon seems the most startled of the four, but not one of them has looked away. Jungkook’s eyes are so wide you can see them rounded from here, a hand pressing to the front of his crotch.

You make another effort to wriggle out of Jin’s grip, but without even looking at you he keeps you locked in, spread for him. “Thanks, but I’m already eating!” he quips proudly, and you sob in embarrassment at the pun, covering your hands and scrunching your eyes shut.

Unable to see, however, you’re taken off-guard when Jin suddenly descends on you like a man starved. You go stiff and shriek at the sudden strong suck on your clit, before clapping a palm over your mouth. The distant sounds of the guys having lunch just makes you drip more, and Jin doesn’t miss it.

“You like that, dirty girl?” You sob at the question, but he just chuckles lowly. “Acting all shy, all coy, but this pussy of yours just loves being watched. Shall we give them a show?”

You barely have time to muster a wordless cry in response before his tongue, lips and teeth are ravishing you with only one intent: to bring you to a screaming orgasm.

You writhe as much as his grip allows you, overtaken by the sudden onslaught of pleasure, but it’s inescapable. While you can muffle your moans with your fist, biting harshly on your knuckles, there’s no denying the four men dining outside can see the way you tremble and arch, and the thought just makes you cry out more.

Your high arrives quickly as you squeeze your eyes shut, not bearing to look towards the voyeurs or even Jin as his tongue delves deep into you, nose nudging your clit as he goes.

Risking a glance over to the dining area quickly, it’s the sight of all four men sitting down, eyes heavy on you as the food remains untouched that sends you over the edge.

You reach out desperately for Jin; one hand buried into his hair and the other clutching at his hand. He holds onto you tightly as he works you through your orgasm until your thighs are shaking and your chest is heaving with the force of it.

When the tremors finally subside, he presses one last kiss to your sensitive clit, and then lets your legs down. You pant quietly as he sits up and pats your pussy playfully with a grin. To your confusion, he then stands up and rubs at the red texture marks that the gauzy fabric of the lounge chair has imprinted, and begins to walk off towards the house.

You frown, sitting up with a still-racing heart. “Where are you going?” you question incredulously.

With a shit-eating grin, Jin sends you a wink, not even bothering to go collect his clothes or hide his straining erection. “Lunchtime.”

image

“Will Mango be okay?” Taehyung asks worriedly.

Jimin tsks, but his tone is warm as he levels a stare at the younger man. “She’ll be fine, Tae, she’s a big girl. Besides; Hoseok looked like he’d fallen in love. I bet she’s getting treated like a queen right now.”

Taehyung glances down the stairs morosely as they turn the corner. “Good,” he muses, “she is.”

Jimin doesn’t notice Taehyung following him until he steps into his room, only to see the masseuse still behind him. “Do you need something?”

Still in pyjamas soaked from the water fight, Taehyung looks nonetheless beautiful. Jimin takes a moment to look over the tanned boy, his lithe frame exposed by the clinging fabric and his hair hanging long with the weight of the water. His lips are delicately sculpted like from marble, and he can’t help himself from starting at the slight pout as Taehyung asks softly, “does your room have a bath? Jungkook said you did.”

Jimin blinks. “How would Jungko- Oh.” The already-faded memory of Jungkook barging in on his morning routine sharpens back into colour. Of course. “Anyway, yes, I do. Why’s that?”

“Just wondering.” Taehyung shifts, a ring of dark grey on the carpet around him from the water that drips off his body.

Jimin dares a glance at the cameras in the corners of the hallway. If the two of them soak the carpet much more, Sejin will have their heads. Sighing he steps further into his room, opening the door wider. “Do you want to use it?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Taehyung brightens up, grin so broad it exposes his back teeth. “Yes, please, hyung!”

Jimin takes a deep breath to stop himself from mirroring the smile, simply shutting the door behind them both as Taehyung rushes into the bathroom, skidding on the floor with his wet feet. “Careful,” Jimin scolds quickly, “you’ll fall.” Avoiding Taehyung’s imploring gaze, he steps past him to put in the plug and begin running water, shivering at the feeling of his wet clothes cold against his skin. “Do you like it hot?”

“Always,” Taehyung answers without hesitation. Though Jimin can’t see his face, the low timbre of the masseuse’s voice gives him pause. “Can we have bubbles?”

Like that, the moment of tension is broken, and Jimin straightens up with a laugh, turning to him. “We?”

Taehyung pouts again, shaking the hair out of his eyes. “You aren’t gonna shower while I have a bath, are you, hyung? That’s a waste of water.”

Jimin feels his eyebrows rise, but the motion catches his attention in the mirror. He gasps at his reflection behind Taehyung; with the liner and mascara around his eyes smudged like a racoon and his foundation patchy, he looks like a mess. “Goodness,” he sighs, “why didn’t you tell me I look like this?”

Taehyung’s eyes are wide with uncertainty as Jimin rushes to the vanity, hastily fishing in the drawers for an oil cleanser to remove the dregs of pigment on his face. “You still look beautiful, hyung,” Taehyung offers softly.

“I look like a teenage girl that just got dumped.” Jimin scoffs a laugh as he viciously rubs at his skin, rinsing it off in the sink with a sigh. Straightening up again, he winces at the reflection that greets him. Red nose and chin, cheeks round without the illusion of contour, eyes looking too small in his face. Every flaw makes him bite down on his tongue harsher, until he whirls himself around, unable to look longer. With his jaw tense, Jimin tugs off the silver rings that adorn his fingers. “Fuck it, I’ll have a bath.”

Instead of cheering like Jimin expects him to, wants him to, Taehyung just eyes him with quiet concern. Over the loudly gushing faucet, his voice is barely audible as he repeats, “you still look beautiful.”

“Do you want vanilla or peaches and cream?” Jimin offers instead. “For bubbles, I mean.” Busying himself with picking out the bottles from the shower, he misses the frown on Taehyung’s face.

“Peaches, please, hyung,” the younger man requests warmly, shivering at the strange tension in the air. “Peach is my favourite scent, you know?”

“Is it?” The thought brings a smile to Jimin’s lips, as he discards the other bottle and begins drizzling body wash over the stream, bubbles frothing immediately. The bright yet sweet scent begins to fill the room, and Jimin’s smile widens. “It suits you.”

Once the tub is aptly full, and bubbles cover the surface, Jimin caps the bottle and peels the fabric of his shirt off himself with soapy hands, sighing as the weight is removed. He spares a glance to Taehyung, who still stands motionless in the middle of the room in a puddle of water. “You can get in now,” he provides, “I don’t bite.”

The blatant lie tugs a grin from Taehyung’s lips as he obediently begins undressing. “You forget I’ve seen your videos,” he quips wryly.

“Oh, I certainly haven’t forgotten, Taehyungie.” It takes more effort to strip himself from his blue jeans, totally waterlogged, but Jimin kicks off his shoes and does it one leg at a time. Naked, he seeks out the warmth of the water, sighing as he steps in and sinks below the bubbles, glancing over to Taehyung, who avoids his gaze as he slips off his boxers, the fabric slapping wetly on the white tiles.

It’s the first time Jimin’s seen Taehyung fully naked, and he can’t help his eyes from roaming. Smooth chest leading to a narrow waist and soft stomach, Taehyung’s cock standing at half-mast like he’s still unsure whether he should be aroused or not. Hastily, he steps into the bath, facing Jimin on the other side, and Jimin watches those delicate, slender fingers flex on the side of the tub as he settles in. Those fingers that played Y/n like she was an instrument. Those fingers that relaxed Jimin more than he’d felt in years, without even needing a release.

“I did what you suggested, hyung,” Taehyung says lightly, knees poking out of the water as he sticks as far to his end of the tub as possible. He pokes his chin forward, running a finger over his jaw and lower cheek. “I’m growing it out.”

Jimin smiles at the younger man warmly, the warmth of the water relaxing his muscles and softening him more than he’d normally be. Or perhaps it was the earnest, non-judgmental air Taehyung always held. Either way, he finds himself leaning forward slightly to brush his fingertips over the bottom of Taehyung’s face. The slightly sharp texture of exposed hairs and beginnings of a dark shadow evidence that he hadn’t shaved since Monday morning. “It’s growing in fast,” he comments, eyes darting to see the way Taehyung’s pulse thrums visibly on his neck.

Taehyung swallows, eyes locked on Jimin. “That’s why I usually shave everyday,” he explains lightly. Perhaps unconsciously, the masseuse’s legs part slowly, water rushing in to fill the void.

Shifting closer again, up on his knees, Jimin continues to inspect the 5 o’clock shadow on Taehyung’s face. “It looks nice,” he says softly; “handsome.”

Taehyung’s eyes blink widely. As Jimin’s tongue darts out quickly to wet his lips, he wonders if, had there been no bubbles, he’d be able to see Taehyung’s cock stiffening to a full erection below the water. The thought sends blood rushing down to his own dick, and Jimin sighs.

Sensing the silence has extended long enough, Taehyung swallows. “Do you think she’ll like it, hyung? What if it’s too rough?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Jimin points out, voice coming out breathier than expected, and his hand snakes around the back of Taehyung’s neck to drag him into a kiss.

The black-haired boy squeaks in surprise at the first contact, but quickly he’s melting, reaching up to grasp blindly at Jimin’s shoulders with a whimper. The reciprocation simultaneously relaxes Jimin and sends him into a frenzy, and he slides himself closer, between Taehyung’s parted legs to deepen the kiss.

If Jimin angles his head just right, his chin feels the slight prickle of Taehyung’s unshaven face, and he makes a noise of approval low in his throat, nipping at the lips that have swollen under his ministrations. Of course the idea wasn’t for kissing Y/n, but if Taehyung could kiss that good with his scruff, Jimin couldn’t imagine what a joyride Y/n was in for when she’d feel that between her thighs. Jimin grins into the kiss at the thought.

The air is thick with arousal and peaches, and the heady combination has Jimin needing more, tongue slipping out to lave over Taehyung’s lips. The younger man whimpers, and Jimin takes the opportunity of his open mouth to run his tongue along Tae’s, leaning further and further forward until their chests are pressed together.

With a needy gasp, Taehyung pulls away, turning his head just slightly to the side to suck in some air, eyes blown with lust. “Are- Jimin?” he stutters out incoherently, the sound of his panting rivalled only by the sloshing of the water that their movements have stirred up.

Jimin’s heart races; thrill on top of arousal on top of concern, his grin falling. “Do you not want to?”

Taehyung narrows his brows like he doesn’t comprehend, and glances around the room. “But there are no cameras?” he supplies, voice lilting at the end like a question.

“I know,” Jimin explains, feeling his own brain struggling to keep time, “I don’t want the cameras.”

“Then…” The lost look on Taehyung’s face breaks Jimin’s heart, and he resists the urge to press a kiss right between his brows, where a crease has formed.

Jimin wills his heart to slow, taking a deep breath. “I- I think for once, I want to have sex not because it’s my job, but because I want to get closer to someone. I know you watch my videos, but… Taehyung, would you want to have sex with me? Just… just me? Not Park Jimin?”

Taehyung tilts his head, a confused smile beginning to tug at his lips. “But you are Park Jimin-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jimin cuts him off, leaning back to get out of the tub. “It was stupid and I shouldn’t have-”

“Minnie.”

Jimin freezes, eyes finding Taehyung’s with a wide stare.

The younger boy’s gaze is soft behind black curls, imploring. “I like you, you know? It was never the videos or the persona. Just you. Whether we have sex or not, you should know that.”

The backs of Jimin’s eyes sting. He ignores it, instead settling back down into the now-lukewarm water. “I-” But it’s too much. He doesn’t know what to say, how to deal with the words he hasn’t heard for years and years. So instead, Jimin just cracks a shy smile, heart easing. “I do still kinda wanna have sex with you, though.”

Taehyung laughs, wide and squared, his eyes little crescent moons. “I want to have sex with you, too,” he assures. “Shall we continue?”

Jimin feels his lips stretch instinctively into a smile, before he’s leaning in and pressing them to Taehyung’s again.

Kissing Taehyung feels good; it’s more addictive and heady than he’s ever felt it in years, bar that night with Y/n. Letting his own want and desire take over instead of worrying about camera angles, lighting, viewers - is this why people like it so much?

Taehyung seems to enjoy it, too, gasping into Jimin’s mouth. The blue-haired man can feel the tickle of Taehyung’s lashes as his eyes flutter with every stroke of his tongue, and Jimin swallows a groan wondering what he’ll sound like later if he’s this responsive now.

Testing it out, he runs a hand up Taehyung’s side, seeking out a dusky brow nipple, wet with steam from the tub, and thumbs at it. Back arching suddenly, the masseuse moans into Jimin’s mouth, reaching both hands up to bury his fingers in Jimin’s hair to anchor him.

Jimin continues to circle and flick at it until Taehyung is positively squirming under his touch. Only then does he let his hand slide down again, this time delving beneath the warm embrace of the water, seeking out the hard length between Taehyung’s legs.

“Fuck,” Taehyung gasps out when he feels fingers wrapping around his cock, not stroking yet but with enough pressure to make him need more. “Want you inside me, Jimin.”

“Yeah?” Jimin confirms breathlessly with a grin. Fingers trailing lower, he easily locates the tight ring of muscle, making the younger man groan as he presses gently at the rim with a single fingertip. “Have you done this before?”

“Bottomed?” Taehyung questions. “Of course. I’m fine, hyung.”

Instead of responding, Jimin takes a moment to lift up one of Taehyung’s knees, unfolding it so that it rested over the edge of the tub. Wide-eyed, the masseuse lets Jimin give the same treatment to the other, until he’s spread open, ass no longer quite reaching the bottom as he floats in the water.

Though he can hear the spatter of water on the tile, dripping off Taehyung’s legs, Jimin ignores it and begins to work a finger past the boy’s rim, drinking in his groans as it sinks inside.

Water isn’t the best lubricant, so Jimin goes slowly, and it’s only once Taehyung grows restless with just one finger that Jimin starts to use two. It takes a moment, but as he crooks his fingers just right, Taehyung lets out a shaky cry, clenching down suddenly. “Just there?” Jimin questions with a wry smile.

Taehyung’s thighs tremble. “Right there, hyung, fuck.” The black-haired boy fusses so beautifully as Jimin continues to stretch him out, pads of his fingers focussing on that sensitive bud of tissue inside. “I-I’m ready, Minnie, I need you.”

Jimin’s heart hitches at the nickname again, and his cock throbs at the thought of finally being able to fuck him. “Are you sure?” he checks one last time, receiving a hasty nod.

The moment Jimin slowly bottoms out, hips flush against Taehyung’s ass, he knows he’s not going to last long. Luckily, Taehyung seems to share the sentiment, groaning obscenely and clutching at his own length, hissing at the contact.

“Fuck, Tae-tae, you feel so good,” Jimin sighs as he begins to set a languid but deep pace. It was natural for his tongue to run during sex; dirty talk was huge in his industry, and sometimes he felt like part of him ran on autopilot during his scenes. Slutty pussy this, dumb cock that; but this didn’t even feel like dirty talk to him. As he buried himself in Taehyung over and over, it felt closer to a confession.

“Ah, Minnie,” Taehyung whimpers, beginning to stroke himself in time, chest arching out of the water, “kiss me.”

His eyes are dark with lust but puppy-soft as he blinks up under his lashes at Jimin, and it’s impossible to resist. Not that he wants to, when Taehyung’s lips feel so perfect on his.

The younger boy whimpers delicately into Jimin’s mouth when they’re joined again, and Jimin feels his high creeping up on him. Embarrassingly fast, he’d think normally, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed now.

“I’m close,” he whispers quickly to Taehyung, picking up the pace so that the water sloshes loudly around them, bubbles dissolving.

Taehyung groans, wraps his free arm around Jimin’s shoulders to hold himself closer, and speeds up his hand. “Me too,” he confesses, “cum inside, Minnie.”

With a low curse, Jimin is spilling inside Taehyung, hips stuttering their pace. Taehyung chases his lips through his own orgasm, gasping so much that he can barely reciprocate. It feels dirty and exquisite; the way their lips and tongue join so messily together, shuddering in unison as pleasure wracks their bodies.

Once Jimin finally comes down from his high, he’s panting. Hair damp from the steam and face hot, for once he doesn’t worry about if his o-face was attractive or his voice gravelly enough. He feels beautiful.

Taehyung’s nowhere to be found by the time you and the other boys finish lunch, and so there’s nobody to protest when Jin suggests the two of you can look after Mango.

Although not trained, Mango is nonetheless polite, and it’s far past sunset by the time Jin and you finish up your photoshoots and online shopping, Jin happily spending a fortune on a dog bed, pedigree food and enough toys for a whole kennel. He insists it’s because Sejin would have his ass if he asked the producer to spend more of the show’s funds, but that doesn’t stop the therapist spamming Sejin’s personal cell with pictures and messages, determined to make a point.

The two of you are exhausted from a day well spent as you snuggle lazily in Jin’s bed, a laptop propped up on your lap as you yawn away to a documentary on squirrels.

“We can go to sleep if you want,” Jin reminds you as a deep baritoned narrator explains the child-rearing techniques of female squirrels. “It’s past midnight.”

You’re past midnight,” you retort sleepily, before your brain catches up with you. “Ah. No. Maybe you’re right.”

With a teasing smile and kind eyes, Jin takes the laptop away, plugging it in on his desk before returning back. “I’m glad, you know,” he muses as he slips under the covers again, your arms and legs immediately latching onto his frame.

Once he settles, you place your head on his chest, the internal beating of his heart a soothing metronome. “Glad about what?”

“Glad that this week’s challenge was you sleeping in different beds. I never got to sleep beside you that first night.”

“You could’ve,” you point out.

“It was only the first night,” he allows, voice rumbling in his chest, “I didn’t want to cross any lines and you fell asleep before I could get an answer.”

You hum, snuggling closer even as your whole body is pressed against him. He’s just so warm, and he feels so safe when he wraps his arm under and around you, holding you there. “I was gonna seduce you,” you whine with a yawn. “Tonight, I mean. You didn’t fuck me before so I was gonna seduce you. But you smell so good. I just wanna sleep.”

Jin seems to share the sentiment, muffling the yawn he caught from you. “You can seduce me in the morning.”

“Promise?”

Jin laughs, wincing when it jostles you violently on his chest. “Fuck, sorry. But yes, I promise. Now go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

Your hand unconsciously finds the collar of his pyjama shirt, clutching at it. You feel the warmth of his hand wrapping around it, flipping it over to lace his fingers through yours. You think you could stay here forever, but perhaps tonight is a good place to start. “Goo’night,” you mumble.

Jin’s voice is barely audible, naught a whisper, but you feel it in his chest. “Night, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

Jin’s already awake by the time you blink away the last few dregs of sleep from your eyes. Glancing at you over the top of his phone occasionally, he smiles and wishes you a good morning once he sees you stretching and sitting up.

“Mm, morning,” you hum back, enjoying the well-rested looseness to your muscles from a good night’s sleep. “I think your bed is comfier than mine.”

“Then move in,” he answers immediately, with a wry grin to let you know he’s not fully serious. “Slept good, then?”

You nod, shifting under the duvet to face him. For a moment, you just give him a bemused look. “You like to get yours done early, huh? The prompt, I mean. Wanting to get it over and done with? Both last week and this week you were one of the firsts.”

Jin’s eyebrows lift in mild surprise. Even this early in the morning, his brown hair is endearingly ruffled, and his eyes are as bright as ever, pyjamas not even wrinkled. “Of course not,” he waves away, reaching out to pat your thigh warmly, his palm resting there. “I’m an opportunist.”

Your heart hitches in your chest at the intense gaze he holds on you, the heat from his skin making you shiver. Though he was dressed in a matching set of striped pyjamas, you only had a baggy shirt and a pair of panties on, your preferred way of sleeping, and his fingers splayed broadly over your bare thigh has your stomach turning in pleasure. 

Outside, it’s silent, and judging by the early hour of the alarm clock on his nightstand, nobody else would be up. You bite your lip, letting your hand rest over Jin’s. “We’re alone,” you offer up suggestively, “I’m barely dressed, and I’m still needy from not getting to fuck you yesterday. Would you classify that as an opportunity?”

Though his face stays lightly bemused, the twitch of his fingers tightening minutely on your thigh belies his reaction. “Oh, baby; did Seokjinnie not give you his cock, hm? Was he being a meanie?” 

You tut, trying not to laugh at the playful pout he’s stuck his bottom lip out for. “You goof, now the mood is ruined. I’m outta here.”

After shaking his hand off your thigh, stumbling awkwardly out of the mess of sheets and blankets, you make it to the desk where your phone has lain, unplugged, overnight. Wincing at the low battery and long train of notifications, you don’t hear the shifting of fabric or bare feet on plush carpet until a clothed hardness is pressed flush against you, making your core clench even as you jump in fright.

Barely breathing, you feel as Jin’s chest leans forward to press against your back, the buttons of his pyjamas digging in. And then further still, pushing until you bend at the hip. As one hand reaches out to brace himself on the desk, and the other arm wraps low around your waist, Jin forces you to bend over the desk longways until your phone has clattered loudly onto the wood and your chest presses against the hard surface. 

“What are you-” you break off with a gasp at the feeling of his lower hand moving, fingers slipping between your legs to brush over the crotch of your panties, folds already dampening the fabric. “What are you doing?” you manage to pant out.

 “You were right,” Jin murmurs lowly, and your spine trembles to hear his voice so close to your ear, lips barely brushing the lobe. “I would classify this as an opportunity. I’ll give my baby the cock she needs.”

You groan as a single fingertip locates your entrance and presses, obstructed by the fabric but enough to make you clench. “Fuck me,” you plead, letting yourself go slack against the desktop, one hand clutching at his wrist to anchor you.

“Mm,” he hums sweetly, standing himself up again. You whimper at the loss, but it’s drowned out by his gentle shushing. As his clothed erection continues to press against you, he takes his free hand and slips it under your shirt, running his palm up and down your back to calm you. “I will,” he confirms, “but I just want to make sure you’re ready first, yeah? Can you be patient for me?”

You nod shakily, biting down hard on your lip when you feel both of his hands moving until they meet together to slip down your panties. His nails drag lightly over the flesh of your ass as the fabric slides off, and the second they drop and pool at your ankles, you feel his fingers dipping inside you without hesitation.

You jump at the sudden intrusion of two of his thick fingers instinctively, but his hand is on your back again, holding you down with the barest exertion, and he continues thrusting at an unhurried pace.

“That’s it,” he praises, “just take it like that, baby, just relax for me.” He continues to work you open; two fingers, then three, even testing a fourth just to see you wriggle wantonly below him, before he pulls them out wetly. 

Already out of breath and sweating, you whine at the lack of contact. “‘M ready, Seokjinnie, just fuck me, please,” you blabber as your core clenches, empty.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, sweetness,” he assures, “I just wanna see your pretty face. Do you wanna go hop on the bed for me?”

No matter how hard you bite on your lip, enough blood is rushing to your cheeks for the blush to be clear to Jin as you stand up shakily and turn to face him. With a pleased smile at how he’s affected you, he helps lead you to the bed again, guiding you to lay down on your back on the cool sheets. As your legs dangle over the edge, Jin steps between them, palming at his crotch. 

Splayed out like this, your shirt rides up, and Jin takes the opportunity to grip snugly onto your hip, holding you steady as he slips his cock out from his pants and begins running it through your folds. 

Your breath hitches, core clenching around nothing as you whine. “Need you, Seokjinnie,” you gasp as his head finally presses to your entrance. Eyes fluttering shut, you let a hand trail down to find his, entwining your fingers.

You feel him shift to hold your hand better, a low breath leaving him as he tightens his fingers. Even as he drives his length into you, slow enough to feel every inch, it’s the feeling of your hand in his that strikes you as the most intimate, most vulnerable part of this. 

You hiss instinctively once his hips press flat against the flesh of your ass, clenching around the intrusion, and Jin passes his free hand over your cheek soothingly. “Just relax,” you hear him coo, “open your eyes for me, baby, deep breath.”

You manage to blink away the pleasured haze that tugs at your lids, staring up at his warm smile. Just like before, the endearing disheveled hair and cosy pyjamas he’s wearing make you smile back at him, heart airy at how beautiful he looks. 

Through a crack in his curtains, earthy rays of sunshine filter through the air, the light banding across his face and collarbones. You have the sudden urge to kiss him, your free hand clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt. 

When he lets you tug him down, he shifts inside you, and you whimper. The sound is quickly muffled by his lips, moving against yours so sweetly. Jin’s kisses are usually heady, addicting, but this one feels like a deep inhale of clean air, fresh and comforting, and you bury your hand in his shirt like your life depends on keeping him close.

When he finally does pull away, still so close that his nose bumps against yours, he rubs your cheekbone with his thumb fondly. “Are you ready for me to move now, baby?”

You nod, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking in. “Please, Seokjinnie.”

“Just relax,” he murmurs gently again, and presses his nose to your jaw, nudging your face to the side so that he can lay featherlight kisses down the sensitive skin of your throat. 

Feeling electrified from his teasing touches, you groan brokenly when he finally begins to pull out. Once your walls clench needily around his head, he thrusts back in, and sets a deep, languid pace. 

With your head turned to the side, nerves alight with the worshipping flicks of Jin’s tongue against your pulse point, you let your eyes fall shut again to just let yourself feel. With your legs wrapped around him, Jin doesn’t have much room to drive into you, so instead he rolls his hips, grinding against you in a way that drags against your g-spot every time. 

Every exhale is a sigh of pleasure that drips from your open mouth, and a low vibration on your skin tells you Jin’s mumbling quietly against you, face buried into the crook of your neck as he holds tightly onto your hand. 

Even with clothes between your chests, you feel closer with him than you have before, something about the lack of space between you more intimate than anything you’ve experienced on the show. 

Sliding a hand around the back of his neck to keep him near, you arch your neck further to the side in hopes that the extra room will allow you to hear his panted utterances better. 

Jin, however, takes this as a chance to move up again, nipping at your jaw, then around to suck dizzingly at the sensitive skin just behind it, below your lobe. Closer to your ear, though, you can hear him more, and your hands tighten even more on him, the words fluttering in your stomach like butterflies. 

“-beautiful, my baby girl,” he coos, gasping out praises through rolls of his hips, “so perfect. Feel so good for me. Doing so well.”

You hitch out a moan as the lower hem of his shirt slips down between you, dragging just beside your clit, and you feel your mind go numb with need. “Seo-Seokjinnie, I need more, please,” you whine, arching your hips to meet him. 

With a hard swallow, he pulls away from your ear, bracing himself against the bed with the hand that’s clasping yours, and reaches the other down to where you need him most. 

You cry out, feeling your high approaching the moment his fingers strum at your clit, making you tremble. “R-right there, oh god, I’m so close,” you gasp out. 

“Baby,” Jin calls through pants of exertion, “fuck, me too, want you to cum for me.”

As your orgasm approaches steadily, the coil in your stomach moments away from snapping, he bends down to reclaim your mouth one last time. 

It’s not the length inside you or the fingers rubbing at your clit that send you over the edge. It’s the way his fingers lock around yours so tight yet his lips are so gentle on you, that sensual contrast of domestic and needy. 

You cry out when you cum, clenching rhythmically around him with the force of it, and it’s mere moments later that he shudders once, and begins to spill into you, rocking his hips all the while to work you through it. 

Even as he’s splayed above you, he holds all his weight on your entwined hands, letting your chest heave freely as the tremors flood through to your toes. 

In the force of your combined orgasms, neither of you have the mental capacity to kiss each other, but your mouths never separate, gasping air from the other’s lungs like you’ll suffocate without. 

The aftershocks last a while, your limbs feeling weak and head lofty once they finally settle. However, before you can fully come back to your senses, a sudden loud bang makes the two of you startle, Jin hissing when you clench around him. 

Behind Jin’s locked door, the unmistakeable chipper voice of Jung Hoseok cries out. “Breakfaaaast! Stop fucking; it’s breakfast time!”

You groan, head dropping back limply onto the sheets. “What the fuck,” you grunt, “isn’t he meant to know not to interrupt a scene from his days in the dungeon or something?”

Jin stiffens, face going uncharacteristically blank as he pulls out of you and stands back up. Your legs unlatch from around him and you clench automatically, trying to avoid any of his cum from dripping out onto the sheets. “Sorry,” he says off-handedly as he untangles his fingers from yours, stepping away to tuck himself back into his pyjama pants. “I’m going to have a shower; just tell them to set some aside for me. Or not. I don’t mind.”

You sit up, frowning at his sudden dismissive behaviour. Like he senses your confusion, his shoulders drop, a hand rubbing over his face tiredly. “Are you alright?” you question, stepping gingerly off the bed to go seek out your panties. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, this time his voice coloured with honesty. “I didn’t realise you saw that as a scene, that’s all. But I understand.”

Your chest sinks as you stand a metre apart, feeling a distance far greater than that between you. “I- That isn’t what I meant, I was just saying Hoseok should’ve known not to interrupt-”

“It’s okay,” he cuts in, brows immediately knitting as if he’s displeased with his own interruption, “could we talk about this later? I want to be honest and open with you, but I need a bit of time to think first. I’ll see you later.”

He’s shut the door before you can process his words, but gently, like he wants to make clear he’s not slamming it. It provides you no comfort, howevever, and rather than showering yourself, you run to your room and put some pants and a fresh shirt on, hurrying downstairs so that your mind doesn’t get the chance to dwell.

Breakfast helps take your mind off it.

It’s easy to let yourself soak up the surroundings; focussing on the others around the table instead of yourself.

Namjoon has the hiccups for a solid half an hour, and every unannounced hic makes the table burst into another peal of laughter, until Taehyung finally gives him a sufficient fright to quell them. 

Jungkook regales the rest of you with a (periodically interrupted) story of how he got his thumb stuck in the faucet of his bathroom and had to call out for Taehyung, whose room was just beside his, to come bring some butter and ease it out. 

“And then we wanted to test if Jungkook’s thumb was bigger than mine,” Taehyung adds, “so I put my thumb up the faucet and turns out, they’re actually pretty similar sizes.”

Although the masseuse boasts this fact proudly, Jimin scrunches his face up. “So… yours got stuck up there, too?”

Taehyung deflates. “Yeah.” 

“But we already had the butter,” Jungkook points out. “So it was fine.”

Jimin pinches the bridge of his nose, like the anecdote physically pains him to hear, and the conversation shifts once again.

Throughout, your eyes can’t help but return over and over again to Yoongi. Jaw tense, eyes calculating yet flighty, and shifting in his seat every few minutes as if he can’t get comfortable. 

He notices your gaze, probably because he’s looking your way just as often as you’re looking his, and makes a visible effort to relax. Mulling over his odd behaviour, you’re reminded of the strange text conversation the two of you had the other day. Yoongi had wanted to revise your limits, seemingly out of nowhere; he even asked you in advance to stay in his room the night of his scene so he could make sure you were alright, though he wouldn’t specify what day. 

You can’t help but wonder if you’re in for it today.

For the most part, you’re happy letting the boys surprise you, but your curiosity just lifts higher and higher for Yoongi this week every time you’ve seen or spoken with him. He’s all in black today; more formal than usual with black fitted trousers and a high-necked black sweater. Roleplays and dynamics, you remind yourself. Though Yoongi always dressed pretty nicely, he wasn’t one to don dress casual attire, and it has your mind scrambling for answers. Lawyer? CEO? Professor? Truthfully, it could be anything like that - provided this even was a costume choice for his prompt and not just him wanting to dress nicely today. 

Putting the thought aside, and trying not to read too much into his odd shifting on the seat, you grab another slice of bacon from the table (Yoongi had apparently shown off his Western cooking skills this morning yet again) and slip back into the flow of conversation.

In the end, Jin comes downstairs before you finish eating. Automatically, you feel your heart begin to thud sickly, but to your surprise he walks past your chair and squeezes your shoulder with a fond smile before sitting down at the end of the table. Clearly far more cheerful, his face is freshly washed and his his hair still damp as he immediately digs in to any and all of the food still left on the table. 

It surprises you to see him seemingly unbothered by your word-slip this morning, but upon your inquisitive glance, he just sends you a nod of acknowledgement, mouthing it’s okay at you around a mouthful of rice. 

You go lax with relief, though a small voice in the back of your mind nags you, what if it isn’t? What if he’s just pretending to save face and make things less awkward? There’s not much you can do here, not with a crowd of unassuming housemates chattering away, but you try to take a mental note to have a conversation about it later with Jin. He’d appreciate that, you think.

“Are you alright?”

You glance up suddenly at the concerned voice, but it isn’t directed at you. Beside you, Namjoon frowns at Yoongi as the older man shifts in his seat once more. 

“Just… feeling a bit uncomfortable,” he admits stiffly, legs splayed with one bouncing restlessly. 

Hoseok snickers behind his fork, but makes no further comment. Namjoon, however, still seems genuinely worried for the doctor. “Maybe you should get some air,” he suggests lightly, eyes drooping in sympathy, “there’s a really nice gazebo just out back by the flower beds?”

Yoongi’s tongue slips out to wet the corner of his mouth, and pauses. He blinks once, then his whole demeanor shifts, letting out a heavy sigh even as his eyes light up. “Good idea, Joon,” he allows with a small smile, “though I better not go alone. Y/n; would you mind accompanying me?”

You know he knows that you see right through him; the twinkle in his eyes as they rest on you speaks clearly. But then again, you also know that he knows that you have no real idea of what exactly he’s planning on doing with you. That mixed adrenaline of being in on the naughty little secret, as well as having no clue what really was coming, stirs excitement in your stomach, and you find yourself on your feet before you’ve even fully processed his words.

True to what Namjoon said, the gazebo is really nice. Trellis on two sides with winding strands of climber plants are studded with small flowers in white and pale blue, the sun still streams in through the two open sides, providing wooden benches warmed from the rays. 

You don’t sit, though, as you face Yoongi. Your pulse races and core throbs, but he holds you in that electric silence, eyes running over your figure shamelessly. 

“You remember the safewords?” You nod at Yoongi’s quiet but firm voice, closer to a statement than a question. He doesn’t even look you in the eye, instead licking his lips wolfishly as he admires you, making you shift from the fierce attention. Yoongi grunts in acknowledgement. “Good. I hope these clothes you’re wearing aren’t expensive.”

You frown at him, lost, but he’s tilting his head to the side suddenly, gaze locked between your legs. Even as you instinctively glance down, you feel it before you see it. 

A thin stripe of wetness, trailing down your inner thigh past your shorts. The off-white colour and thick consistency is unmistakeable, as is the wetness of your panties. Your cheeks flood as Yoongi tsks, raising a brow.

“I see someone beat me to the prize this morning. Let me guess; Jin?”

You open your mouth, but close it again, feeling somehow too shy to speak. Yoongi’s always been a pretty introspective guy, but never have you seen him this quietly intense before, his lips set in a line that is neither amused nor disappointed. You nod instead. 

Even as he lets out a minute sigh, his hand leaves his side, and your breath catches in your chest as you feel a fingertip collecting the trail, all the way up to the sodden seam of your panties, and pulls back. 

Holding it in between both your faces, Yoongi’s eyes observe the older  man’s cum as it pools on the pad of his finger. There’s something so dirty, so taboo about the sight that you have to smother a sob of need at the sight, but you’re unable to muffle a guttural groan as he dips that same finger into his own mouth, sucking it off with a pop. 

“Yoongi, fuck,” you breathe, feeling lightheated even though he’s barely touched you. 

His hand drops, eyes latching back onto yours sharply. “Guess I’ll have to fuck him out of you. Claim you as mine.”

Your eyes widen, heart racing. “Yoongi…” You don’t even know what else to say, mind blank with desire. 

He grins, and the primal satisfaction in his eyes has you dampening your panties even more than Jin’s cum already has. “Perhaps if you scream loud enough, he’ll hear you from inside.” 

You squeak as he rushes you, chest pressed against yours and an arm under your ass, lifting you off the ground as he walks back. Feeling air rush around you and the sun suddenly pierce into your eyes, you clutch onto Yoongi as he kneels down and drops you softly but suddenly onto the lush bed of grass, warmed from the sun. 

With eyes wide with shock, you watch as Yoongi reaches for your shirt. Without a moment to process him fisting the fabric, you hear it rip from the neck down, until the two torn fronts lay over your arms, bra exposed. “Yoongi!” you cry, not angry so much as startled, but he’s not done.

With a sneer and a grunt of exertion, he rips away your bra too, the lack of an underwire on the lacy garment making it too easy for him to tear away. Like a man possessed, he tugs off your shorts, jerking your body as the waistband is roughly pulled past your hips, and by the time his fingers dig into the sodden fabric of your panties to shred them too, your whole body is on fire with arousal. 

His black shirt and pants, once reminding you of a rich CEO or classy lawyer, now seem to fit him like the pelt of a wolf or the sleek fur of a panther, his eyes pinning you back onto the grass. His hands are all over you, nails digging in like claws to make you shiver. “I’m going to ruin you, little dove,” he promises. “But first; I’m sick of smelling another man’s cum on you.”

With the sun blazing down on you, a cool breeze peaking your bared nipples, you can barely comprehend what he’s doing when he backs away, further from the shelter of the gazebo. Not until he lowers himself down, wraps a iron-tight grip around your ankle and tugs you down to meet him halfway as his mouth descends on you. 

Instead of where you expect, however, you feel his lips sucking up your thigh, cleaning up the drips that have run down since. “God, Yoongi,” you start, but he chastises your whining by replacing lips with teeth, biting harshly into the sensitive flesh.

You cry out wordlessly, hand reaching down to fist in his hair. His mouth finally finds your core, and his flicking tongue is just as sharp as his teeth, and more deft. 

It’s sinful; the way you can feel his tongue digging into you, sucking out Jin’s cum like his life depends on it. Every lash of it runs over your swollen clit, thighs trembling. 

There’s no one around, and your cries echo strangely in the open air, making you feel small. One of Yoongi’s hands reaches up to paw roughly at your breast, tweaking at the nipple until you try to bat him away. The lazy late-morning breeze, the soft blades of grass, the scrapes of Yoongi’s teeth on your folds as he eats you out like a man starved. These things don’t seem like they should ever be together, yet it’s so deliciously addictive to be pinned to the ground like this, Yoongi’s grunts mixing with your moans.

You tighten your grip in his hair, jumping when he sinks his teeth into your inner thigh in reproach, mirroring the earlier one surely enough to bruise. 

Marking you, you realise. Claiming you.

Though any trace of the cum inside you must surely have been tongued away, Yoongi doesn’t slow down for a minute, determined to make you scream as promised. 

Now that the pretence of cleaning you out has been surpassed, he targets your clit, sucking and flicking and grazing until you’re a shivering mess, unable to think about anything but him between your legs, and the orgasm that is so close you can almost taste it. 

Your thighs still throb with the memory of his teeth, and even as they ache, you long for more. You try your luck with a gasped breath. “Y-Yoongi, please!”

The moment he sucks your clit between his teeth and nips, your vision goes white, the moan halfway out of your throat morphing into a strangled stream as you tug at his hair, seeking out more pleasure to ride your high. 

His hand doesn’t stop its assault on your breast as you cum violently beneath him, and the tugging at your nipple makes your spine go taut in an arch, the climax rushing through you quick and hot, nothing like the slow flowing warmth of your orgasm earlier this morning. It’s over almost as soon as it takes you, and you let out a cry when the stimulation quickly turns into needle-like sharpness. 

“Too much,” you gasp, but he acts like he hasn’t heard you, laving his tongue over your overstimulated clit like he’s addicted to it. 

It’s only once you begin to physically push at him, his shoulders and head, that he sits up, grinning down at you as you pant. 

The entire bottom half of his face from the tip of his nose down is glossy with your arousal, and his hair is tangled from you clutching at it. He looks positively wild, drunk off your core, and the thought itself makes a moan rumble deep in your throat. 

You brace your trembling arms on either side of you and shift up onto your hands, ragged shirt immediately slipping down to pool at your wrists. “Holy shit, Yoongi,” you enthuse, the intensity of your orgasm still hazy in your mind even if it’s left your body.

“Oh, you think that was me ruining you? You think I’m done?” Something in Yoongi’s eyes glints, something primal. He sits back on his heels. “Run, little dove.” 

You pause for a moment, even as his words lick at your core with arousal. He wanted you to run, so that he could chase you. So that he could catch you and ruin you like he promised, like he warned. 

You swallow, stumble to your feet with shaky knees, and take off.

With clothes shredded, you have no choice but to dart away, naked, and the thought of any of the others seeing you through the glass from inside makes your heart beat faster. 

The you an hour ago would have shied away at the full nudity, perhaps, but you feel high on adrenaline and arousal, and so you aim your path boldly towards the back door of the house. 

Feet thumping against the grass, you slow to a stop to glance behind you. No longer on his knees, Yoongi is brushing off his pants, eyes narrowed and blazing like twin suns as he takes off right towards you. 

Another streak of excitement rushes through you, the absurdity of the situation disappearing under the need of feeling him fucking into you with abandon once he catches you. 

You take off again, grass changing to concrete until you bang against the glass door, throwing it open and rushing through the kitchen. 

Strangely, there’s no one in the lounge or the dining area, and as the lush diners of the carpet soothe your feet, you can’t tell whether the leap in your heart is relief or disappointment. 

Your momentary pause of surprise loses you precious distance, and you squeal when you feel a hand on your shoulder. 

Whirling away from Yoongi’s grip, you stumble back into a run, feeling the impact of his feet on the floor right behind you all the way. 

In the end, you make it to the base of the stairs before his hands reach you again. 

Your knees buckle only the stairs with a jarring thud, and you catch yourself, sprawled on the incline of the stairs. 

You cry out when a hand buries itself in your hair, Yoongi’s legs straddling you and hips pressing you down as he tugs your head back. The growl that emerges from his throat is nothing short of animalistic as he runs his nose up your throat to nip roughly at your earlobe.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, little dove,” the doctor warns in a gravelly voice, “so hold still.” 

As you tremble beneath him, Yoongi darts out his tongue to lick one slow stripe up the side of your face possessively, before he lets go of your hair and shifts back. 

Impatiently, you hear him slip his pants down just enough to expose his cock, and he swears gruffly under his breath, spitting into his palm to slick himself up with a few quick strokes. 

Like you’re lighter than air, Yoongi grabs your hips and lifts them up so that your knees rest on a higher step. “Wider,” he snaps, and you rush to obey with a whimper, feeling exposed on your hands and knees, right where anyone coming downstairs could see you. 

Perhaps because he knows Jin must’ve stretched you out earlier, or perhaps he just wants to stay in character, but the moment he lines himself up with your entrance, he’s pounding into you without abandon. 

Too fucked out to even notice the level of your voice, you cry out with every thrust, the sound punctuated by his hips slapping against you. 

You can’t think of anything but his cock in you, the growls leaving his throat, his fingers digging into your hips almost enough to bruise. Your mouth doesn’t close, a trail of drool collecting under your chin but there’s nothing inside you to care. 

With all your other scenes, no matter how intense, there’s been a degree of restraint, most of the guys only having been with you once. But with Yoongi, and the safety net of your safe words and limits he so carefully reminded you both of. 

All you can feel is unbidden pleasure. Every thrust is intense enough to make your toes curl, but you’re drunk on it, pushing your hips back to meet each one and feel him even deeper inside you. 

His hand finds your hair again, gathering a handful to tug back, and you curse as his mouth meets your throat again, lips latching harshly onto the part where your neck meets your collarbone, sucking deeply, teeth nipping, undoubtedly enough to leave a mark that would stick around for who knows how long. 

“They’ll see,” he growls, “I’m gonna breed you, little dove, and then they’ll know who you belong to. One of them could come down the stairs right now, and know that I’m the one that owns this precious little pussy of yours.” He’s huffing now, panting with the energy he’s spending on ravaging you so deeply, but his voice is as intoxicating as ever, “Would you like that, hm? Like them to watch me fuck you full of my cum?” 

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you cry out hopelessly, and your nails dig into the fibres of the carpet harshly as your orgasm approaches. “Y-Yes, want you to fill me!”

His thrusts get impossibly faster and your jaw slackens even more, eyes rolling back with the inescapable pleasure you feel. You’re so close, but before you can cum, you feel Yoongi begin to spill in you. 

Instead of stopping however, he just snaps his hips more, fucking the cum into you messily, growled words of dirty praise as you feel it drip down the backs of your thighs, the increased slickness of his thrusting making it obscenely loud. 

You pant, desperately chasing your high, and suddenly you feel Yoongi’s hand in your hair shift, reaching out to wrap his fingers around your throat.

Not pressing enough to cut off air, but enough to make your breaths shallower, he bends down to whisper in your ear. “Cum for me now, little dove.”

On command, your body falls apart, legs shaking and spine arching from the whitehot pleasure. Your elbows buckle, and it’s actually Yoongi’s hand on your throat that keeps your chin banging into the stairs below, letting you down carefully even as he fucks you through your orgasm; slow, measured thrusts to strike your g-spot as you soak his cock even further with your juices.

Feeling tears of pleasure pricking at your eyes, all the energy in your body evaporates as he finally takes his hand away and the unrestricted air rushes into your lungs. 

You shiver when he pulls out, feeling oddly vulnerable and exposed, even though you were no more naked or debauched than when you’d ran here. Exhausted from your second orgasm, that erotic haze begins to dissipate, and you can’t picture how you ever had the brazenness to dash through the house and backyard naked. 

It’s strange how quickly the atmosphere shifts out of that animalistic delight. Even as aftershocks make your clit throb, a part of you wants to curl up and not face the world. You indulge this, burying your face into the crook of your arm, but then there are hands on you, soft and soothing and nothing like the clawed hands that unraveled you so entirely before.

“Hey, sweetheart,” a warm tone calls out, “are you still with me?”

“Mm,” you mumble ungracefully, but Yoongi takes that as the affirmative. 

“Okay, I’m going to lift you up now, yeah? I’m taking you to my room for some privacy.”

You don’t have the energy to nod, so you make a noise of confirmation again, letting deceptively strong arms pick you up off the stairs, carefully navigating you into his hold as he makes his way upstairs one step at a time. 

Everything seems a little light and fuzzy, and it’s easier to let your eyes slip closed and Yoongi to do the heavy lifting - quite literally - so you do just that. It’s the cold touch of a made bed against the naked skin of your back that brings back some clarity, and you shift, eyes blinking open again dizzily.

Yoongi’s rushing away, coming back with a blanket to tuck over you, your head propped up on a pillow. “Still feeling fuzzy?”

You do manage to nod this time. You could speak, but the idea itself seems too energy-sapping to bear much thinking about. Yoongi seems more than capable to do the talking himself. 

He smiles brightly at your response, taking your hand in his comfortingly. The predatorial glint in his eyes is gone, replaced by focus and intent, carefully monitoring you. Even his caring attention alone feels rejuvenating. 

“I shouldn’t have, but I’m going to make sure I haven’t broken the skin anywhere, okay? Just bare with me, sweetheart, you did so well.”

In the end, it takes what must be half an hour of Yoongi checking you over, getting you to sip at some water, and clothing you in some old flannel pyjamas of his so you were warm - the bulky socks were itchy, but they still helped - before your mind feels cleared enough to speak. 

It’s strange, coming back from a tough scene like that. You remember Hoseok mentioning something about subdrop before. When all the high emotions and adrenaline of a scene drop away like low tide, leaving your mind sometimes feeling at sea even if your body was back on shore. Eventually, though, with the care of the kind doctor, you feel yourself again, cosy and happy bundled up in his clothes and a warm blanket. 

“I’m okay now,” you croak out, voice rusty no doubt from your pleasured cries just before. “I’m good. And it was good, too. It was exciting.”

Yoongi’s brows furrow, glancing up at you from where he’s bending over at the bedside, slipping off a grass-stained shoe. Only after he’d made completely sure you were okay did he even begin to think about himself, and the thought just warms your heart. Yoongi, though, still seems to worry. “It wasn’t too much? I wasn’t sure if I was pushing it too far, even if it was within your-”

“I liked it, Yoongi, and I felt safe,” you insist truthfully, shuffling over to make room for him on his bed. “You know I would’ve said red if I needed to. Or yellow.” You bite down on your lip as the springs in the mattress shift, Yoongi still in his rumpled turtleneck and trousers decidedly less alpha male as he tugs a corner of the blanket over his lap. Your knees bump together, and you find yourself leaning into his side, drinking in the physical contact. “Did… Did you like it?”

Yoongi stays silent for a moment, but you know it’s just because he likes organising his thoughts before speaking. “It was pretty different to my usual,” he admits, “though perhaps not as much as you’d think. There were certainly aspects I enjoyed very much, and others I perhaps don’t feel a need to repeat.”

“Like?” you question.

His shoulder shifts beneath your head, a hand coming up to brush at the tender spot on your neck. “I like marking you up. Making you cum. Though I must admit, I just about popped a hip back there. I think I’m too old for the real kinky shit now.”

You scoff, pushing at his shoulder playfully. “I doubt that. I would say eating Jin’s cum out of me is pretty kinky, and you loved that.”

“I-” Yoongi’s voice of protest is cut off by his own reluctant laugh. “Fine, sure, you got me. I guess I am kinda setting a streak there, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug noncommittally, “you could always find someone else’s cum to enjoy. Get a little variety.”

Yoongi makes a noise of indignation. “You little shit! Don’t kinkshame! You’re the one that fell apart as soon as I put my hand around your throat. We’re as bad as each other.”

You laugh, punching him lightly but letting him get the win. The two of you fall into silence for a few moments, before you sigh lightly. “I think Jin’s angry at me,” you offer up. 

To your surprise, Yoongi matches your sigh, like he knows something too. His arm wraps around your waist, tugging you close as he rests his chin on the crown of your head. “He’s just fond of you, sweetheart. Well; we all are, I suppose. But Jin is trying really hard to be the voice of objectivity, and I think he’s struggling with that a bit right now. It’s not you. I promise you that.” You hum, still feeling a poke of guilt in your gut. Unsatisfied, Yoongi presses on. “I suggested he see a therapist.” 

Perhaps, when you think of Yoongi, that’s something that will always make your heart warm first. He knows when to be serious, and when to joke, and either way he never fails to comfort you, to make you laugh. 

So when Yoongi asks you to stay, not just tonight but for the rest of the afternoon, you don’t hesitate for a moment. There’s nothing you want more than his company.

Chapter Text

“I think you should be a little more concerned, PD.”

Sejin flattens the two men - oldest and youngest of the house - an unimpressed look. Jungkook tries not to wilt under his gaze. “And why is that?”

Jin clears his throat, staring right back unabashedly. “Tae’s been involved in a terrible accident and you’re just waiting here. You should be rushing over to the house to save him.”

“A terrible accident?” Sejin questions monotonously, before turning in his chair to angle his monitor so that both boys can see. On the screen is a freeze frame of a very familiar scene - Taehyung crouching on the bottom of the stairs, Jin and Jungkook huddled around him.

Ah, Jungkook realises with sinking disappointment, the cameras. Once the producer clicks play on the recording, Jungkook is faced with the HD version of himself gesture excitedly, patting Taehyung on the back and pointing to the banisters.

Cheeks flushing, the youngest member of the house watches in dread as Sejin plays back the evidence of Taehyung willingly forcing his head through two banisters, ears popping out the other side as he glances up with a beam at Jin.

Having seen enough, Sejin pauses the video, and switches back to the realtime feed. “An accident, was it?” Sejin repeats rhetorically as the Taehyung on the security camera drums his fingers lazily against the wood posts, letting out a lionlike yawn. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

Jungkook bites down hard on his tongue. This wasn’t how things were meant to go at all. Behind Sejin’s desk, the majority of the production van is filled with all the mess of a regular office. Stacks of paper, scribbled sticky notes on various surfaces, a large whiteboard with roughly handwritten schedules and a small game of naughts and crosses in the bottom right corner. Jungkook tries not to let his eyes dwell on the whiteboard too long. Don’t raise anymore suspicion.

Beside him, Jin shamelessly shrugs with a smile. “He put his head through the bars on purpose, sure, but he got stuck on accident.” The oldest - though still younger than Sejin himself - emphasises this distinction with a single outstretched finger and an arch of his eyebrows. “So you should go help him.”

Sejin slips his glasses off and lets them clatter to the table, pinching his brow with two fingers. “Am I gonna get there and have Taehyung ask me for the latest issue of Chinese Vogue?”

Jin stiffens, his mask temporarily shattered. “I requested that in confidence.”

The production manager throws his hands in the air in defeat. “How was I supposed to know which of your bogus requests was confidential? Just half an hour ago I got a call from my superior asking why #getjinanXL was trending. You tweeted that you wanted me to buy you extra large condoms because you ‘ran out.’”

“Well, that was obviously a joke,” Jin rebuffs easily. “You know I use Magnum.”

“How would I-?” With a huff of desperation, Sejin shakes his head to clear his mind. “No, okay, back to…”

Zoning out, Jungkook’s eyes are caught by the sight on the screen as another figure walks out into the foyer. Yoongi rushes forward once he sees Taehyung, crouching on the other side of the bars as he delicately prods around Taehyung’s face and neck. The younger man waves him away in frustration, pushing at Yoongi’s chest until he gives up and leaves reluctantly. Jungkook bites his lip and looks away.

Whoops. Staring right at him are the producer and the therapist, each as expectant as the other. “Huh?”

Sejin huffs. “Why would Taehyung intentionally stick his head through the bars of a staircase banister?”

“Tell him, Jungkookie,” Jin adds with a bump of his shoulder.

“Uh…” With a hard swallow, Jungkook’s mind whirls. “He… We were… measuring,” he finishes awkwardly. “Me-measuring Tae’s head.”

“You were measuring Taehyung’s head?” Sejin repeats flatly. “With the stair banister?”

Jungkook shrugs with what he hopes is a ‘what can you do?’ expression, laughing nervously. “We couldn’t find a ruler.”

Sejin blinks once. “Then how would you know how wide the gap between posts was? Without a ruler?”

“Oh.” Jungkook stares in barely subdued panic at Jin, who widens his eyes meaningfully, urging him to turn back to the awaiting producer. “We, um, we didn’t think that far. We’ll know for next time?”

“If you want to stay on this show, there will be no next time,” Sejin warns.

Jungkook ducks his head in shame. “Sorry, dad.”

“Y- what?” Jungkook hears Sejin cough lightly, flustered. “Please, Jungkook, that’s not appropriate.”

The youngest gives a little bow. “I apologise, Father.”

Sejin clicks his tongue. “Okay, that’s even worse.”

Jungkook glances up, brows knitting and head tilting in confusion. “…whoopsies, daddy?”

Sejin buries his face in his hands, fingers tugging at the hairline. Jungkook spots several grey strands.

Clearing his throat, Jin steps forward slightly. “Taehyung is still stuck, PD.”

“Okay, fine! Fine,” Sejin announces, pushing his chair away from the desk and standing up. “But if there is a single other incident like this, I’m calling in child protective services and getting them to baby-proof this place. No more funny business. Understood?”

“No more. Promise,” Jungkook assures sweetly, heart soaring as Sejin slips past them, hurrying out of the production van and towards the front door of the villa.

The moment he’s well out of earshot, Jin claps his hands once with a victorious grin. “It was a bit touch-and-go there,” he admits, “but that’s bought us time. Quick; get the whiteboard, I’ll grab some pens.”

Jungkook grins. Like secret agents, hyung and him were. Moving quickly, the two of them manage to sneak out the whiteboard from the van, trundling it noisily across the gravel, around the back of the house.

“I’ll be honest,” Jimin drawls, “I don’t understand why we couldn’t have just chatted about this. Is the whiteboard really necessary?”

Taehyung deflates immediately, one hand still rubbing at the red marks on his jaw and ears. “What do you mean? I suffered for this whiteboard, Minnie.”

It’s crowded; five people huddled inside the confessional booth. But apart from the bathrooms and the rec room, this was the only place without live security cameras - purely because the only camera needed was the one for the confessionals themselves - and Jin and Jungkook doubted they’d be able to smuggle a very noisy whiteboard into the rec room when Sejin was directly outside it lubing up Taehyung’s neck with aloe vera gel.

While Producer Shin had been lured away by Jin with the promise of a homecooked meal, the four youngest men in the house were bundled into the garden shed, staring at a whiteboard that had barely fit through the door.

Jimin, still unconvinced, shrugs. From his spot perched delicately on Namjoon’s lap he watches the two younger men take a picture of what’s written on the whiteboard, then rub it all out. The man of the hour, Namjoon had been given the right to sit on the only proper chair in the room, the one the producer would normally sit in. Beside it, the wooden stool sits unoccupied. Jimin told the others that he was sitting on Namjoon’s lap because the stool was too uncomfortable, but Jungkook thinks there’s something deeper in the way he relaxes onto Namjoon’s chest, the academic alert but not tense underneath him.

Or perhaps being on this show has made Jungkook more suspicious.

“The whiteboard was vital, hyung,” he defends adamantly, grabbing one of the pens Jin-hyung had handed him, yanking off the cap with a satisfying click. Immediately the alcoholic smell of ink tingles his nostrils, but he ignores it, turning to the others. “What if Namjoon-hyung was a visual learner?”

From behind Jimin’s back, Namjoon adjusts the bridge of his glasses. “I- actually I learn best through listening.” His hand drops, hovers over the space both him and Jimin share, then rests awkwardly on the armchair. “But I appreciate the thought.”

Namjoon-hyung is so cute. “It’s okay,” Jungkook assures, suppressing the endeared grin that tugs at his lips, “We can brainstorm out loud, and Tae and I will just take notes.”

With Taehyung in his Sunday best (well, a button-up shirt so baggy it looked like he hat batwing sleeves) and Jungkook having dug out his glasses to look extra smart, the two of them were prepared to make this as academic as possible for Namjoon. Even after getting laid for the first time, academics were his comfort zone, and the two youngest were happy to oblige.

“First things first; what was it you had to do? Honeymoon?”

Jimin leans back on Namjoon’s shoulder so the taller man can see past. Namjoon shakes his head lightly, his purple hair in serious need of a touch-up; the natural brunette frames his face now, emphasising his brow. Jungkook wonders if he’d let him dye it a new colour, just for something fresh.

“Just husband and wife,” the academic corrects, “It didn’t specify, uh, anything else.” His voice is still quiet, as if speaking on it is taboo. One day he’ll get used to discussing sex openly, but until then, the others will meet him halfway.

“Okay, so, Y/n is your wife,” Jungkook states with a nod, “do y’all have kids? Is it a newlyweds situation? We need  backstory here.”

The squeaking of a pen catches Jungkook’s attention before he even finishes speaking. To his right, Taehyung writes in sharp strokes across the board.

Y/N PREGNANT

“It’s the nineteen thirties,” Taehyung announces in a smooth voice, eyes finding each member in the room, “war is imminent, and worldwide men are preparing to be conscripted. Every moment spent with their loved ones is precious, and for General Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung pauses to draw a gangly stick figure giving a salute, “him and his wife Y/n-” this time a female stick figure joins the scene, a cartoonishly round stomach off to one side, “-have only one goal. To knock Y/n up before he goes to battle, so that even if he never returns they ha-”

“Wait, wait!” Jimin cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed. “Isn’t this too dark? Too elaborate? They’re fucking, not going for best screenplay at the Oscars.”

Taehyung deflates a second time, the hand holding the pen dropping limply to his side. “You don’t like it?”

Face stricken, Jimin waves his hands frantically. “No, no, I love it! Honestly! I just- I feel like Namjoon probably wants something a little simpler? Perhaps not so bleak?” The blue-haired man swivels around on Namjoon’s lap, his hand resting inconspicuously on the back of his neck, playing with the longer hairs there.

Namjoon swallows. “Uh, yeah, simple is probably good. Honestly, I feel a little unsure about all of this. What if I, I don’t know, drop character or get shy? Won’t it be awkward?”

Taehyung scratches at his chin as he thinks, the beginnings of beard scruff shadowing his jaw. “If we help you brainstorm, you can just memorise a basic script.”

“I guess so,” Namjoon muses, eyes fluttering unconsciously as Jimin continues to trace the nape of his neck with his fingertips. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I know you have your own scenes to worry about.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Two birds with one stone, we can help each other. You know; I suck your dick, you suck mine.”

“That isn’t the quote,” Namjoon protests automatically, “but- I get your point. Anyone have any advice on how I even go about this?”

Taehyung pouts. “You’re the smart one,” he points out, “I did try to help but clearly my services weren’t appreciated.”

“Oh, honey,” Jimin coos, “I always appreciate your services.” The double entendre is clear in the silk of his voice and the arch of his brows, sent with a sweet smile, and Taehyung flushes in response.

Jungkook winces, ignoring the spike of - of something green and ugly in his chest. “Okay, enough from the lovebirds, this is about Namjoon. Joonie-hyung, I would just offer to help out and join with yours but I was gonna do mine this afternoon, and I don’t think a husband would fit very well into it.”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon assures, shifting under the weight of the man in his lap. His fingers flex on the arm of the chair behind Jimin’s back, unsure. “Taehyung? Yours might work, I guess.”

Unaware of Namjoon’s indecision, Jimin suddenly stands up off his lap entirely, stalking over to Taehyung with a bemused grin. “You think our well-trained Taehyungie could be the family dog?”

Taehyung, though keening under Jimin’s sudden attention, seems hesitant. “I- I don’t know, Minnie, I haven’t really…” He trails off helplessly, casting Namjoon an apologetic stare.

“It’s okay,” Namjoon rushes out, scooting forward to the edge of the armchair. “You don’t have to, I could just do it by myself.”

It’s strange, watching Jimin so visibly caught in indecision. He hovers in the centre of the small shed, torso towards Taehyung but head twisted back to stare at Namjoon. Wanting to support Namjoon, but wanting to protect Taehyung.

Jungkook feels like an outsider invading in on a precious equilibrium. Namjoon shifts, gaze dropping. Taehyung can’t keep his fingers still as they fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. Jimin’s so still the thin silver threads of his earrings don’t even shift in the air, but his eyes flood with emotion, bottom lip twitching just slightly as he seeks for something to say.

Jimin isn’t as mean as he’d like people to think, Jungkook muses. Saving the uncomfortable decision, Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, diverting the attention of the other three. “We could always practice? Jimin, you’re pretty. Pretend to be Y/n and give Joon-hyung some tips.”

The effect of his words are instantaneous. Jimin perks up, turning on his heel to grin down at his elder, who gasps almost imperceptibly. Taehyung’s eyes dull with something akin to disappointment. At himself or at the situation, Jungkook can’t say, but the sight of him turning to the whiteboard and swirling sullen circles of ink on the glossy surface has Jungkook’s heart breaking.

Leaving the other two to talk - Jimin resting gracefully on one of the arms of the chair, his feet dangling between Namjoon’s - Jungkook hurries forward, wrapping his fingers around Tae’s to catch his attention.

“What’s up?” he asks softly, low enough to give the two some privacy.

Sucking on the inside of his cheek, Taehyung shrugs. “Nothing.”

Jungkook isn’t deterred by the shortness of his tone, but changes tacts nonetheless. “It’s a bit weird,” he offers up, “it’s like each of us is the wingman to the other guys, but we’re all going for the same girl.”

With Jungkook’s hand still on top, Taehyung begins to swipe the pen across the board again. This time, what looks like a flower with long, pointed petals takes shape in thick black lines. Taehyung himself stays focused for a few moments of silence, until he’s ready to speak.

“But it’s not just that,” he explains in a low timbre, “it’s not just her.”

Jungkook lets his hand be maneuvered by the deft movements of the masseuse. Every part of Taehyung was so elegant, like he’d been sculpted from marble. From those slender fingers, to the slope of his nose. Lashes that brushed against his brow bone as he focused, teeth pressing just slightly into his lip, a dusky pink. “No, it’s not,” Jungkook agrees after a moment.

Taehyung lets his hand fall, Jungkook’s slipping off. With eyes hidden behind dark curls, the elder sneaks a look at Jimin and Namjoon, the two smiling and laughing, Jimin’s fingers playing with the strap of the watch on the other’s wrist lazily.

“I never know who to be jealous of,” Taehyung admits with a weak chuckle, capping the pen. “Anyways; that doesn’t matter. We’re here to help Namjoon.”

Jungkook spares a glance at the lovebirds on the armchair. “I think he’s doing just fine.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung answers shortly, eyes locked on the way Jimin curls onto Namjoon’s shoulder, the two locked onto Namjoon’s phone as he types in notes. “He’ll do fine.” Letting out a deep sigh, Taehyung scrunches his eyes shut and shakes his head, like he’s clearing the funk away. “It doesn’t matter, we’re all in this together.”

Jungkook cocks his head. “But- Well, no, this is still a competition. Technically we should be against each other, not together.”

The air leaves Taehyung’s lungs in a rushed breath. “Fuck, you’re right. I should, like, hate you, right?”

Jungkook hums with a raised brow. “I guess.”

“I should be trying to cockblock you and tell Y/n you have syphilis, yet here I am wanting to suck the dicks of everyone in this room. But also maybe hold the hands of everyone in this room. You can imagine my confusion.”

Jungkook feels his stress slip away at the genuine smile that tugs at Taehyung’s lips. Even if his eyes are still muted with sorrow, he doesn’t seem so despairing over it. The youngest reaches out to grip onto Taehyung’s upper arm reassuringly. “We could have hate sex if it’d make you feel better?” he offers up in a soft voice.

The blue depths in Taehyung’s gaze recede a little more as his smile brightens. “I’d like that.”

The two manage to hold this Hallmark moment for a little longer before Taehyung’s shoulders begin to shake with suppressed laughter. In seconds, the two are dissolving into chuckles and snickers, Jungkook throwing his head back and Taehyung hunching over with the force of it.

Across from them, Namjoon and Jimin pause their excited conversation to stare at them in bewilderment.

“What did we miss?” Namjoon asks, brow knitted but eyes wide.

“Never mind,” Jungkook deflects, heart feeling strangely warm as Taehyung grins under his lashes at him, like the two of them have an inside joke. “We should probably pack up, though, unless we want Producer Shin coming back in the middle of our top secret team meeting.”

Jimin clicks his tongue in agreement and stands up off Namjoon’s lap. Lithe like a cat, his arms come up over his head and his back arches into a stretch, eyes fluttering shut. Jungkook knows his eyes aren’t the only pair watching the way his shirt lifts to display a band of pale golden skin.

“Alright,” the porn star lets out with a relaxed sigh, arms dropping and shirt falling again, “let’s head out, then. Joonie’s sorted.”

Namjoon stands up behind him, nodding shyly. “Thank you, guys. I feel a lot better about it now.”

Jungkook and Taehyung share a look. “To be fair,” Jungkook says with a light cough, “I don’t think Tae and I really helped at all.”

Jimin sends the two of them a broad smile, eyes crinkling in good humour. “You did provide the whiteboard,” he points out. “Though I imagine your efforts to steal it without Sejin realising were in vain.”

Taehyung frowns, hand automatically lifting to rub at his jaw. “What do you mean?”

“There aren’t any cameras in here,” Jungkook offers to Jimin, “he wouldn’t have seen it!”

Jimin blinks. “Where do you think Sejin went after helping Tae out of the staircase?”

Jungkook feels the odd pressure of dawning realisation that hasn’t quite materialised. “His office,” he answers slowly, “why?”

Behind Jimin, Namjoon ducks out with a sympathetic smile. “He probably noticed the giant whiteboard missing, Jungkookie.”

The camboy opens his mouth, waits for words to come, and closes it again. “Mm,” he replies eloquently.

“Oh, we’re gonna get in big trouble, huh?” Taehyung mumbles, fiddling with the pen in his hands.

“Wait,” Namjoon offers, “I’ll tell him it was me.”

Jungkook frowns. “How does that help?”

“Sejin won’t get mad at me, he loves me. I’ll just tell him I was getting a head start on my work for next semester.”

“When did he tell you he loved you?” Jungkook asks with a pout. “He never says it back to me.”

“I didn’t- What?” Namjoon frowns. “I was just chatting to him for advice one night and he told me I remind him of his son.”

“He doesn’t have any kids,” Jimin says with a lilt of confusion.

“I think he was talking about his cat,” Namjoon admits with a pained look, “but he loves his cat, so he must love me. Anyways, I’ll tell him I was using it for study and I don’t think he’ll mind. Just clear off the board and one of you can help me wheel it back.”

Jungkook sighs a breath of relief, turning back to the board. Beside it, Taehyung is frozen with his head bent and his mouth dropped open, staring at the pen. Neither Jin nor him thought to bring a duster, so Jungkook balls up his sleeve in his palm and wipes off the-

And wipes off the-

“Why isn’t it coming off?” Jungkook asks frantically, scrubbing over the shiny lines of black. “It’s not even smudging!”

“Um, Jungkookie,” Taehyung utters lowly, curls shifting as he slowly looks up. “This is a permanent marker.”

Jungkook’s hand freezes. He steps back, eyes wide as they stare at the image drawn in thick black.

The blooming form of what looked like a lily on the bottom corner, that was fine, but the giant all-caps Y/N PREGNANT followed by a very evocative drawing of a heavily pregnant woman beside a patriotic Namjoon was going to be harder to explain.

Slowly, Jungkook swivels on his heel, coming face-to-face with Namjoon, whose eyes are almost open wider than his mouth. “Hey, hyung,” the youngest offers up with a tentative smile, “how much d’you reckon Sejin loves that cat?”

It’s late afternoon by the time Jungkook has done his penance with the whiteboard and Sejin himself, but luckily it means that Yoongi is definitely in his room when Jungkook goes knocking.

More content with his own company, the second oldest tended to retire to his bedroom early to “entertain” himself. Jungkook had assumed this was a euphemism for masturbating, but Taehyung had informed him that the doctor was making his way through an impressive collection of the Slam Dunk manga these days.

As expected, Yoongi opens the door to Jungkook on his third knock, ushering him in with a look of confusion.

“Hyung,” Jungkook begins in an entreating tone, “you have a first aid kid in your room, don’t you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, back straightening in alarm. “Is someone hurt?”

“No, no, it’s sex reasons,” Jungkook explains quickly, eyes wandering around the room, eying up the open closet in the back of his room. “Do you have a white coat?”

“I- what? No, I don’t have a white coat,” Yoongi stutters out, face scrunched up in confusion. “What is this about?”

Jungkook hums, brushing back hair out of his face absentmindedly as he delves deeper into Yoongi’s room, checking in the drawers of the small nightstand. “I can make do without the white coat,” Jungkook murmurs to himself, before turning on his heel to face the older man again. “Do you have stirrups?”

Stirrups?” Yoongi asks incredulously. His arms are folded over his chest tightly, though the brown loose-knit sweater loses the intimidation factor. “Why would I bring stirrups? They’re attached to the chair anyway, I can’t just pack them away in my suitcase.”

Dammit. Jungkook collapses onto Yoongi’s bed back-first, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “You need to help me, hyung. I’m determined to win fan favourite this week, so I need to go all out.”

A sigh of realization comes from the other side of the room. “Your prompt,” Yoongi remarks flatly. “What is it; nurse and patient?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open as he sits up. “Doctor and patient,” he declares proudly. “I asked if Sejin could promote me to neurosurgeon but he said it wasn’t relevant.” The thought dampens Jungkook’s spirits a bit. Even just regular surgeon would have been nice. “But anyway,” he continues, “whatever props you have would be greatly appreciated. I already googled a list of medical terms, so I’m feeling pretty good.”

Yoongi sighs again, but he shuffles over to his closet and pulls out a sizeable, bright green first aid kit, laying it on the bed. Jungkook gasps in excitement and makes room for him, but Yoongi just tuts. “First of all,” he explains while unzipping it, “these aren’t props, they’re medical-grade supplies. And you can’t have them all. I don’t trust you with most of the things in here.”

Jungkook frowns, but shrugs off the disappointment. Something is still better than nothing. “Okay, hyung,” he allows in a small voice, “thank you.”

Yoongi fails to hide the quirk of a fond smile as he takes out some of the stuff in the kit. “You owe me,” he says instead.

You have to give it to Jungkook; the dedication to his craft is impressive.

After he sent you a vague and rather concerning message about needing to see you in the gym for ‘health reasons’, you were greeted by a hand-written DO NOT DISTURB (unless you’re y/n) sign taped to the door.

Inside, the indoor gym had been transformed. Most of the larger equipment had been shifted to one side, leaving the other half open. In the middle of the open area is a weightlifting bench covered in a white sheet which you’re certain was off his bed. A comically out-of-place office chair is beside a table which Jungkook is using like a desk. The desk is pushed up against the mirror which fills one whole wall of the gym, and you can’t help but laugh at the infographics and charts he’s printed out on A4 sheets of paper and taped to the mirror.

There’s a fuzzy x-ray of some ribs taped next to a heart rate line, frozen mid-pulse like he took a screenshot off a video, which is next to a chart filled with increasingly smaller letters, like one you’d see in an optometrist’s office. Though everything is mismatched, the effort he’s put it really warms your heart.

The desk is where you find Jungkook. He sits with his back to you, typing away obnoxiously loudly at a laptop on the desk. On the screen, gibberish keysmashes fill up an otherwise empty Word document. Rather than a lab coat, Jungkook looks more sharply dressed than you’ve ever seen him in a ironed button-up shirt, pale blue. The back of the fabric is taut against his skin, clearly borrowed from a slightly smaller, or at least less jacked man. But it provides a streamlined view of the muscles in his back and shoulders, tucked into belted black pants to highlight the surprisingly narrow waist.

Kitschy or not, you’re grateful that Jungkook got some kind of cheesy medical roleplay if it meant you finally got to see him in fitted clothing.

Even though he must have heard you open the door and lock it behind you, he remains tapping away at the keys. His head tips slightly to the side, expectant.

“Jungkook,” you call out, disappointed and a little confused when he doesn’t respond. But you quickly realise your mistake. “Oh, uh. Doctor Jeon?”

Like clockwork, he spins around magnanimously on the chair, hands splayed out in a welcoming gesture. “Ah, my favourite patient. Do come in.”

So we already know each other then, you surmise. Remembering all these details was an unexpected, though not entirely unwelcome part of this week’s theme. Developing a backstory, information on the scene, almost felt like constructing a scaffold to continue. There was something equally reassuring and exciting about it. A bolt of arousal shooting between your legs, you step in to the middle of the open area, sitting awkwardly on the covered bench.

“Take a seat,” Jungkook adds redundantly, like he’s following a script. “Let me just bring your file up. Name?”

You pause as he wheels back around to the laptop, pulling up what looks like an Excel spreadsheet. “I thought I was your favourite patient,” you quip with a smirk, but unable to suppress your fondness at how much thought he’s clearly put into it.

Jungkook’s shoulders drop, but he doesn’t falter. “Of course, I’m just going through the motions. I’ve been in the field for so long, you know.” He shrugs demurely. “I was actually a neurosurgeon before this.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles out of your throat before you can catch it. “You went from neurosurgeon to doctor? Isn’t that backwards?”

Jungkook’s eyes waver, biting his lip. “I prefer the simple life,” he offers as an explanation. He shakes himself out of it, and turns back to the computer once more with a warm sigh. “Alrighty then, I’ve got your file here. It’s been a while since your last visit,” he remarks, cursor hovering over a watermarked image of a clock. “I better check your vitals again.”

You watch in bemusement as he readies himself, first sanitising his hands using a small travel-size bottle that’s in the shape of a cartoon shark, then pulls on a pair of latex gloves that had been lying on his desk. Even in the strangely comedic atmosphere, the sound of him snapping the glove against his wrist makes you gasp soundlessly, thighs pressing together in need.

Jungkook notices it, eyes darting down as he rolls his chair over. He unbuttons each cuff off his shirt and rolls them up to expose his forearms. His hair is getting thicker as it grows, and even though it’s pushed back, a few locks slip forward to frame the smirk on his face.

You swallow, neck craning as he gets closer. The bench you’re sat on clearly isn’t intended as an examination table because it’s just as low to the ground as the chair, and there’s something inside you that runs electric when he comes close, looking down at you from it. With spread knees, he places them on either side of yours and pins you there, making you gasp.

The feeling of the cold gloves on your cheekbones, pressing to keep you steady is dizzying, more so when he looks intensely into your eyes, searching with a cool professionalism that you’d never seen from him before. Though it’s new, you recognise the shift in the tension of the room signifying the true start of the scene.

In your peripheral vision, you spot his tongue darting out to wet his lips, but you’re locked onto his gaze. Jungkook smiles softly. “Eyes are healthy,” he remarks, “good to know you’ll be able to see everything properly.”

The gloves catch on your skin, one sliding down to tighten on your chin, tipping your neck back even more. You’re barely breathing, waiting for his move.

“Open up and say ahh,” he instructs huskily, and you’re responding without thought, letting your lips part and your tongue relax. Jungkook frowns. “Wider.” You feel the corners of your mouth pang as you lower your jaw as much as you can in his grasp. “Keep it like that,” he demands sternly, and your heart thuds.

To your surprise, he doesn’t just look inside. You jerk instinctively in his grip as two gloved fingers slide down your tongue, but his rebuking glare has you settling again, trying to breathe through your nose as he delves deeper, smirking at the way you squirm, legs trapped between his and eyes lidded as you feel the length of his fingers heavy on your tongue.

Quicker than you can put your head around, his fingers plunge deeper, far enough down your throat to make you gag, tears springing to his eyes. His fingers leave as you let out a little cough, blinking wetly at him in betrayal.

Jungkook smirks, not bothering to wipe the shine of your saliva off his glove. “Gag reflex intact and responding well,” he notes smugly.

“How is that a vital?” you question, voice slightly hoarse.

“It’s vital for what I’m about to do to you,” he quips with a lecherous grin, and you bite down hard on your tongue to fight the urge to tremble.

“And what is that, Doctor?” you ask instead, blinking owlishly up at him.

His lip quirks. “Don’t play coy, now,  Y/n, I’ve seen the way you look at me during our appointments. Tell me; why is it that you came here today?”

You swallow, eyes heavy on him. “I’ve been suffering a strange sensation, Doctor,” you make out, your voice quieter than you intended. “Can you make me feel better?”

Jungkook exhales harshly, hands dropping to rest on your knees. “And where does it hurt, hm? Here?”

You suck in a breath as his legs spread further, coming close enough that your knees press against his crotch, the hardness undeniable. A single hand shifts up to lay against your forehead, questioning, and you shake your head. His hand skims lower, pressing firmly against your sternum where you feel your heart race against it.

“Here?” he questions, and continues on when he receives a negative. Next he veers off to the side, cupping a breast and brushing a thumb over your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. “Does it ache here?”

You whimper, arching into his hand. “A little bit,” you offer up weakly, glad you opted out of wearing a bra in anticipation of the scene.

The answer seems to amuse Jungkook, and you shiver when you feel his other hand playing with the hem of your shirt, the gloves tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach. “I better check it out then, hm?”

You feel so exposed, the air conditioner chilling the air and the mirror reflecting Jungkook’s back as he leans in close, breath tickling your bare shoulder as his hands cup your breasts.

Without further preamble, he begins to roll your nipples simultaneously between his fingers, enough pressure to make you shiver as he studies your reactions closely. The feeling of being touched so intimately with the barrier of latex gloves feels both taboo and exciting, and without even realising you find your hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt, gripping at his biceps as they flex with every movement.

“Does it hurt when I do this?” Jungkook asks lowly, humming in response when you shake your head. “What about this?” Suddenly, he’s tugging, pinching them harshly enough to make your back arch to ease the pressure.

You squeal, fingers digging in deeper to the corded muscle of his forearms. “Yeah,” you gasp out shakily, “h-hurts.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop. “But you like it, don’t you?” he accuses as he continues his rough treatment. “Coming into my office, begging me to touch you like this. Fucking filthy.”

A moan slips out as you rock your hips against the bench, seeking friction for the heat between your legs. “Please, Ju- Doctor Jeon, it hurts,” you cry out, gaze imploring as you blink up at him.

All of a sudden, he pulls back entirely, hands falling back onto his own knees as he watches you. “Show me,” he instructs, eyes hazy.

You shiver, the cool air shifting over your naked torso as his stare burns molten hot. “Show you what?”

Carding a hand through his hair to push it back, Jungkook wets his lips. “Show me where it aches the most,” he explains, voice like crushed velvet.

This was a side of him you’d never seen before; neither the competitive dom nor the obedient sub. His sexual versatility never fails to surprise you, and you find yourself hopelessly lost in the calm dominant air he exudes. Shakily, you part your legs.

He scoffs lightly. “That isn’t much help if I can’t see it. Undress.”

A rushed exhale leaves you at his shortness, but you stand up and push off your leggings and panties, kicking them to the side. It’s far harder to bare yourself to him this time, and as you sit, you can’t help but hesitate.

Jungkook raises a brow at your pause, leaning back like he’s disappointed. “I’m a very busy man, Y/n,” he chastises, “these appointment slots aren’t long and if you don’t want the next patient coming in while you’re choking on my cock, I suggest you do as I say, when I say it.”

Your legs fly apart the moment his voice lowers into a growl, clenching automatically at the open air at your most vulnerable place. “Please help me, Doctor,” you plead lowly.

Jungkook curses under his breath and comes forward again, placing a single gloved hand over your core. You jerk instinctively but keep your legs open at his warning glare. Even through the gloves, he has to feel how wet you are, slicking up the latex without him moving it. “It hurts here, hm? Lie down on your back and I’ll take a look.”

Your breath picks up as you turn and lower yourself onto the white sheet, legs dangling over the end. To your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t come around but returns to the desk, rolling his chair away and rifling through what looks like a first aid kit. You crane your head to watch him, narrowing your eyes in confusion as he returns with what looks like two rolled up lengths of gauze bandage.

“This isn’t the usual gyno office,” he explains, unravelling one slowly, “so we don’t have stirrups. But don’t worry; I’ll make sure to keep you nice and open for me.”

Like he’s done this a million times before - though the rational part of your brain knows he’s probably making this up as he goes along - he begins using the bandage material to bind your ankles to the legs of the bench, wide enough that you have to shuffle right to the edge, spread wide. He doesn’t say a thing when he ties them, mumbling to himself like he’s recalling instructions, and slips in his fingers to test how tight they are.

He’s kneeled between your open legs now, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as he runs his fingertips over your sopping folds, eyes lidded with arousal. “Does it hurt here, Y/n?”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to scoot even closer. “Inside,” you explain, sighing in relief when two fingers plunge inside your walls, scissoring to stretch you out.

Jungkook has one hand on your thigh to hold you steady as he rocks his fingers back and forth like he’s seeking something, and the feeling of the latex, so slick with your juices, has you trembling immediately. “It’s important in this line of work,” Jungkook breathes out as his fingers widen even more inside you, “to be thorough, so just relax for me, let me in.”

The moment you try and unclench, his fingers curl and press up against your g-spot, and it’s like a line of electricity connecting all your nerves together lights up. Your legs instinctively flex in an attempt to close around his hand, but the taut bonds keep them spread, and you sob at the reminder, arms giving out so that you end up flat on your back again.

Jungkook chuckles. “Looks like we found the problem,” he remarks cheerily. His fingers continue their assault, targeted now as you writhe beneath him, and the wet sounds of the latex as he increases to three digits echo obscenely in the large room. “That’s it.”

The joints of your fingers ache as you cling onto the edges of the table for dear life, unable to stop the rising wave of pleasure that threatens to crash. It’s so close you feel it in your teeth, eyes rolling back and babbling nonsense to try and get him to go faster, harder.

Faintly, you hear the sound of him humming in amusement, and your mind conjures the mental image of him, sleeves rolled up and gloves dripping with your arousal, hair falling in his eyes and teeth glinting as he grins and brings you to orgasm. It’s that thought that finally begins to tip you over the edge, and just before the wave crests, you feel his fingers slip out.

“Looks like it doesn’t hurt anymore,” he remarks cheekily.

“No, no, no, don’t stop,” you blabber mindlessly, but it’s too late, and your orgasm washes through you as he sits back and watches the unsatisfying roll of pleasure take your body.

Irrationally, you feel tears prick at your eyes with the cruelness of his actions. “It sti- It still hurts, Doctor,” you sob, reaching a hand down to cup yourself, wanting more even as you hiss with the sensitivity.

Jungkook tuts in fake sympathy. “My fingers can’t reach any further, Y/n, if I couldn’t reach where it hurts, I don’t know how I can help you.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you blink your eyes open again, struggling to focus on him. “Use your cock, Doctor, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Is that so?” You could just about cry in relief when you hear a belt buckle jingling, and Jungkook kneeling over you, lining himself up. You can feel the tip pressed against your entrance, just enough pressure to tease you. “Too impatient for me to even put a condom on, naughty girl.”

Fuck, I don’t care, just fuck me, Doctor,” you whine, your sentence punctuated by a strangled cry as Jungkook snaps his hips forward, bottoming out in a single thrust.

Somehow you’d forgotten just how long Jungkook was - while he wasn’t the thickest or overall largest, and even the thought of mentally cataloguing the guys’ dicks was strange - there was a graceful rising curve to his length that felt like it pierced right through you, and as he starts a punishing rhythm, you feel the air punched right out of your lungs.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jungkook growls. “Acting innocent when you just wanted my cock to fuck you stupid, hm?”

With every thrust, your body is rocked back and forth on the bench, and you feel the bandages that bind your ankles to the legs of the table loosen, a little bit at first and then enough that they slip off completely. It feels odd to no longer be tied down, and Jungkook notices how your body is suddenly shifting far more than it was before.

His pace slows down and you feel a gloved hand wrap around one of your ankles. “Do you want them back on? I don’t think I tied them so well,” Jungkook notes hesitantly, and if you weren’t wildly chasing your orgasm, you might have cooed at his character dropping away to reveal the Jungkook you’re more used to.

As it is, your mind can only care about one thing. “I don’ need them, just fuck me!” you plead, and Jungkook exhales sharply, lifting your ankle until it rests on his shoulder, holding down your hips to fuck into you once more.

With the new angle, you can just about feel him in your guts, and your mouth drops open soundlessly, the only noises escaping your lips are gasped breaths as you feel a deeper orgasm begin to build.

“Oh fuck, I’m close,” you manage to slur out, a raw scream bouncing off the walls as he lowers a hand to rub at your clit, the slippery glove only making him thumb it faster. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking-ah!”

Your sentence is cut off violently as an orgasm rips through you as suddenly and overwhelmingly as an electric shock. If you’re making any noise, you can’t hear it, your mind like white static as you sit there and let it take you. Every inch of you is singing, down to your toes, and as Jungkook continues to fuck you into oversensitivity, you feel another release, one that makes you shudder and Jungkook swear violently, spilling inside you as he grips at the flesh of your hip.

It takes a while for the blur in your mind to clear, vision swirling in hazy technicolour and whole body trembling. Jungkook must have taken the gloves off at some point, because you feel the softness of his hands as they seek out yours, gently squeezing to rouse you more.

Y/n,” you hear him say, voice still distant. The fog dissipates more with the calling of your name, and you feel yourself tune in again, once more becoming aware of the cool breeze of the aircon on your heated skin. Jungkook leans over you, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Y/n. Have you ever done that before?”

You knit your brows in confusion. “Huh?”

Jungkook lets out a light chuckle, sitting back. He’s still inside you, barely softening, and you groan at the sensitivity of him shifting. “Look,” he guides, and you glance down to see your stomach and thighs, shiny with wetness, too thin to be cum. The liquid soaks his shirt, too, leaving dark patches. “That was fucking hot,” Jungkook gushes, his doctor persona well and truly evaporated by now.

You laugh weakly, an exhausted smile stretching at your lips. “I don’t think so? Fuck, that was a lot.”

“You were amazing,” Jungkook praises, squeezing your hands one last time before letting them go. He begins to pull out, then, and you shudder at the emptiness, remnants of his cum dripping out of you as he lowers your leg to the ground again. You sit up carefully, still lightheaded, and watch as he quickly rushes over to the desk, returning with a gauze pad damp with water from a bottle.

He uses it to clean you up in comfortable silence, though you can’t help but bite your lip when you notice he’s still hard. Just as he finishes wiping away the last of the wetness from your thighs and begins to wipe himself off, you reach out a hand to halt him.

“Doctor,” you coo teasingly, “won’t you let me clean you up? I wanna repay you for making the ache go away.”

His chest heaves as he shudders out a breath. “Really?”

You blink up at him as he stands in front of you, his cock right in front of you, glossy with your combined cum. “Don’t you wanna test my vitals one more time, doctor? Just to make sure?”

He gulps as you lean closer and lick a single stripe up the underside of his cock. It’s only slightly bitter, and well worth it for the look on his face and the feeling of his hands carding through your hair.

“I’ve got some filing to do,” Jungkook offers up, chest puffing as he slips back into his role, “if you’re going to clean me up like a good little girl, you can do it while I get back to work. I’m a busy man.”

You bite your lip as he cups the back of your neck and urges you to stand, leading you towards the desk. It’s just tall enough that you can sit on your knees below it, mouthing at his cock as he sits back in the office chair.

Giving a guy head isn’t your favourite hobby, but there’s something weirdly erotic about licking your own cum off of him as he types away, all but ignoring you. As you clean him up dutifully, you realise it’s a challenge, of sorts, to suck him off so well that he breaks concentration.

His jaunty clicks of the mouse and punching of keys continues away as he sighs lowly, feeling your lips wrap around his tip. You tongue the slit, keeping yourself steady by gripping the meat of his inner thighs and let your eyes slip shut so that you can fully focus on the minute sounds he lets out.

As you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth, testing your limits, you begin to learn the rhythm of his typing, recognising what makes it falter. His tip is sensitive, particularly where it meets the shaft, but it’s when you lap at the skin below his base and suck his balls into your mouth, tonguing at them languidly, that makes him break concentration fully.

“Hngh, fuck,” you hear him make out in a strangled voice, a hand coming down to stroke at his own length.

You bat it away immediately. “I thought you needed to work, Doctor,” you tease, “just let me take care of it.”

Jungkook groans but doesn’t protest when you wrap a hand around him and jerk him off, fingers tight around him as you suck at his perineum, making him moan prettily, the tapping of keys sparse and uncoordinated.

“Fuck, gonna- gonna cum again,” he warns, thighs tensing with the urge to thrust up into your grip.

You switch positions to suck his length into your mouth, rolling his balls in your hand and bobbing your head. Jungkook’s falling apart so beautifully, gasping out little ah, ah, ahs with every breath.

The moment you feel him stiffen up even more, you suck in a breath through your nose and swallow him down to the back of your throat, tearing up as your gag reflex kicks in.

He cums with a cry, shooting ropes of cum down your throat, and you wring out every last drop until he’s hissing and pulling away.

Jungkook helps you up from under the table with shaky hands and tucks himself away, panting. “Holy shit,” he says with a exhausted laugh, “I should have gone to medical school.”

The two of you spend the late afternoon showering and then returning the gym to its former glory. It’s not until even dinner has passed before you recall the rule of the Bangasm Bomb - a different bed every night.

You’d slept in Jungkook’s bed on the Monday night, and so you’d have to seek shelter elsewhere.

After getting into pajamas, you step out into the second-floor hallway, glancing around to see if anyone’s door is open. Jin’s is open - he’s still downstairs having a beer with Yoongi - but you’ve used his bed before. The only other one that’s ajar is the bunkroom.

Inside, Namjoon has his nose inside a book by a Japanese author you’ve vaguely heard of, and Hoseok folds a pile of laundry on his bed.

“Room for one?” you call out hopefully. The two of them have each chosen a separate bunk so they can see each other, but while Namjoon has a bottom bunk, Hoseok’s hair just about brushes the ceiling on the third and highest bed. The two of them glance up in unison, matching grins as they wave you inside.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Hoseok chimes out cheerfully.

“I was wondering if I could stay in a bed here tonight. I can’t room with Jungkook again.”

Hoseok’s eyes warm in recollection of the scene the three of you shared on Monday. “Well, we’ve got plenty of space. Pick a bed; any bed.”

It makes the most sense to choose the third stack of beds, on the far wall from the door. With only two beds instead of three, it’s easy enough to choose the top one, a perfect halfway point between Namjoon and Hoseok. “It’s not so bad in here,” you remark, tugging up the sheets so you can slip under.

“As far as punishments go, it does seem pretty tame,” Namjoon notes, adjusting a pair of thick reading glasses that balance precariously on his nose. “Though I do feel like it’s the equivalent of a naughty corner. Even if it’s comfortable, it’s the social factor that makes it undesirable.”

“It’s basically a sleepover for losers,” Hoseok surmises.

Namjoon pauses and nods. “Well said.”

You chuckle. “You two seem to be getting along well. Doing a lot of bonding in here, are we?”

“Not a whole lot else to do,” Hoseok points out. “We’ve been chatting away the boredom. Did you know Namjoon thought he could speak to crabs when he was a kid?”

Namjoon lets out a wounded noise, carefully marking his page with a bookmark before tossing the novel to the side. “I never said that! I said I thought they were trying to speak to me, okay?” The academic pokes his head out to look up at you. “Hobi-hyung is scared of Big Bird from Sesame Street!”

Instead of defending himself, Hoseok nods with an indignant pout. “Yeah, I fuckin’ am.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Wow, you’ve only been in here three nights and you’re already sharing childhood trauma? Jin’s gonna be devastated he missed it.”

“Jin had the chance to come join me and he chose not to,” Hoseok declares. “As far as I’m concerned, Namjoon is the only man in this house I respect.”

Namjoon beams, eyes crinkling behind thick frames. “Thanks, hyung. I respect you, too.”

Hoseok’s chest puffs up in pride. “You better after all the things I’ve taught you.”

Namjoon’s blush is telling. You lean forward in interest, glancing back and forth between the two. “Wait; what did you teach him?”

“Well, we’re not gonna tell you,” the dom responds petulantly, turning his nose up, “it’s a surprise for your scene together.”

You pout, leaning back onto the pillow on your bed. “That’s no fun.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun when you get to experience it firsthand, trust me.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh at Hoseok’s teasing, slipping his glasses off and placing them on the nightstand beside the bunks. “Don’t hype it up too much, hyung, I’m not that good yet.”

“You’ll get there, young grasshopper.”

You frown at the uncertain look on Namjoon’s face. “I can go ask one of the others to room with them if you wanna, uh, practice some more.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No, it’s okay. This can be my rest day.”

Hoseok sighs sweetly, rubbing his eyes. “Actually, rest does sound pretty nice. We can pick it up tomorrow. Night, Joonie. Night, Y/n.”

You and Namjoon chime out a simultaneous reply as Hoseok climbs down the stairs to deposit his pile of folded laundry on the empty bed below, returns to the top bunk, and tucks himself in.

Namjoon seems equally relieved to be able to go to bed early, curling up with a pillow cuddled to his chest. “Sweet dreams,” his low timbre calls out.

You smile fondly at your two boys, snuggled up with peaceful faces as they drift away. “Sleep well,” you offer up, before getting comfortable and letting your own eyes slip closed.

Chapter Text

The mattresses in the room of bunk beds are surprisingly comfortable. The metal springs squeak a little if you move too much, but you wake up feeling well-rested.

“Not too bad, right?” Hoseok chirps, swinging out on the ladder and jumping down onto the floor with a thud. Using his laundry from the day before, he unceremoniously swaps his sleep shirt and boxers for some deep green skinny jeans and an orange sweater. Namjoon, more modest and distinctly more sleepy, grabs his clothes and stumbles back to his own room.

“The beds? Better than I was expecting for sure.”

Hoseok smiles warmly as you hop down the ladder and arrive on steady ground again, toes curling into the carpet. He fiddles quickly with a chunky watch, doing up the links. “Breakfast is downstairs if you want it.”

You throw him a teasing grin. “Not if you’re making it, thanks.”

He has the good graces to pretend to be offended, before tugging you into a playful side-hug, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “No, you cheeky fucker, Jungkook bought pancake mix. He texted me saying there’s plenty for everyone.”

“Jungkook making breakfast?” you ask dubiously, but the warm image of pancakes for breakfast makes your stomach growl. “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll come down.”

Jungkook, it seems, is starting out the day cheerful as ever. He gives you a big grin when you, Namjoon and Hoseok come down for breakfast, and he makes sure to dish up the biggest pancakes for you, before taking the second biggest for himself.

Jin raises a teasing brow when you come down accompanied by the two men, Namjoon still with his hair ruffled up awkwardly from his slumber. “Long night?” he questions with a cheesy wink.

Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing  two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

You may have said too much, but Jimin goes lax against the opposite end of the tub, smile never leaving his lips, and you don’t regret it for a second.

Chapter Text

Just like the last time you’d stayed with Jimin, he’s awake before you. It seems every morning you rise later and later, the physical effort clearly getting to you. You feel like you’re in some sort of sexual boot camp, and the constant action has you sluggish. Hoping like hell that Taehyung’s prompt isn’t something wild, you figure you’ll survive his and then demand a long weekend of chastity just to recover. It would even be a nice opportunity to spend some quality time with the other members of the villa.

Jimin’s in the shower, the bathroom door cracked slightly, and you call out that you’re heading downstairs before you leave. If you saw him walking out of there shaking droplets off his hair, chest bare and towel slung low over his hips, you didn’t think you’d be able to resist. No. Best to get away while you still can, legs shaky enough as it is.

As you make your way downstairs after getting dressed, it’s so quiet you assume nobody else must be down there. It’s only once you turn into the kitchen that you realise the silence is for a different reason.

Jungkook sits on one of the breakfast stools, stiffly glaring down at the countertop as he eats a piece of toast laden with peanut butter. Across the bench, waiting for his own toast to pop, is Taehyung, who looks wildly uncomfortable.

“Morning,” you offer up in what you hope is a bright tone. Jungkook barely glances up, showing a split second of the bags under his eyes before he’s chewing quietly away again. Taehyung, on the other hand, seems relieved to see you.

“Good morning,” he responds with a grateful smile, still looking half asleep in grey sweatpants, a loose shirt and rumpled curls. “Welcome to Saturday.”

You grimace, getting a cup for the coffee machine. “Fuck, is it the weekend already? Two weeks, huh.”

Taehyung flinches violently when his toast pops, shaking off the reaction with a laugh. “Feels somehow like we only just came here yesterday, but also like we’ve been living together for months.”

“I get you,” you answer, risking another glance at Jungkook. There’s a strange tension in his shoulders that makes you equally empathetic yet wary. But this is the first time you’ve seen him since he stormed off. “Jungkook, do you want some coffee too?”

He startles, blinking at you. “Coffee…? Oh, um- yes, please.”

You don’t like this Jungkook, whose fists are tense but eyes are sad, but at least he’s talking to you. Determined to keep it that way, you make conversation as the machine whirs away. “I’m thinking maybe we could have like, a sleepover or a movie night or something like that sometime. Just hang out, you know?”

“I think it’d be nice,” Taehyung agrees, buttering his toast slowly to coat every corner. “Maybe Sejin has some board games we could use. I think I saw a deck of cards in the DVD cabinet.”

The two of you wait awkwardly for Jungkook to pitch in. He does, albeit reluctantly. “When would be a good time? Before or after you eliminate one of us for being the worst in bed?”

You freeze, mouth struggling to work.

Taehyung recovers faster. “That’s unfair, Jungkook. She doesn’t exactly have much of a choice. We all knew that coming i-”

Jungkook cuts him off, and you recognise the same sharp tone and tensed jaw from the last time you spoke with him. “I get that,” he spits, “it’s all of you guys that don’t. Why should we be playing happy family on a porn set? One by one we’re going to get voted out, and have to hang around the people that were superior to us and the person who thought we weren’t good enough for her. Why is everyone fucking around and acting like this is fine? How am I the asshole for trying not to get my heart broken?”

As he speaks, you bite down hard enough on your tongue to taste the metallic tang of blood. You swallow it away, letting out a shaky breath. “You aren’t an asshole, Jungkook. None of us are expecting that everything is going to be sunshine and rainbows all the time, you know? But we might as well try and make the most of our time together. I don’t know why you’ve had such a sudden change in perspective. You seemed happy before.”

Jungkook’s eyes waver on yours, before glancing over at Taehyung, who sullenly takes bites of his jam on toast. “It was stupid of me. I know I get close to people easily and yet I let myself-” He clears his throat, still wound up but more settled, at least for now. His hair, oily enough to indicate he probably hasn’t washed it in a while, is tangled and lazily tied back in a small ponytail so it’s off his face. It fully exposes the wan tone to his skin. His ears, usually heavy with various earrings, are plain with only the small empty piercings left behind. From a man that was so full of life and cheery before, he seemed so defeated. Something was seriously bothering him. “Listen, it’s better for me if I just do my thing, okay? Just respect that I wanna keep this as a work thing and leave me alone.”

You frown, but acquiesce, putting your coffee to the side and getting started on his.

Behind you, Taehyung cracks a tentative smile. “Jungkookie, you’re like a reverse Jimin. He started out dis-”

Like he’s been stung, Jungkook jerks upright in his seat, face crumpling. “Fuck off about Jimin!” he shouts abruptly, voice dangerously thin and defensive. “Not everything’s about him, Taehyung! Maybe I’d feel a little more comfortable talking with you if I knew you weren’t always thinking about him instead. We’re here to fuck Y/n, not to get boyfriends, so why should you and him get to make moony eyes over each other, huh?” He sniffs suddenly, stumbling off his chair and pushing away like it makes him sick to be there. “The double standards in this fucking house!”

Without another word, he’s storming away, trembling with rage or perhaps something else. Stunned, you watch in silence as aromatic rich liquid running out of the spout into the cup you’d gotten out for Jungkook.

As the last few drops spatter against the surface of the coffee, a door slams upstairs, making you jump, staring at the abandoned plate Jungkook left on the countertop.

“I made it worse,” Taehyung’s voice notes lowly from behind you. “I made him worse, Y/n. He was already so sad.”

Your heart breaks as you whirl around, reaching out to him and pulling him into a tight hug. Even though he’s taller than you, he’s never felt so tiny, trembling like the wind could blow him away. Trying not to cry. “Oh, Tae, this isn’t on you. I promise.”

He sniffs lightly, clears his throat, and tightens his grip on you. When he speaks, his voice is muffled in your hair. “I still have to do my prompt, you know. Left it too late.”

“Don’t stress about that, Tae,” you assure earnestly. “The game isn’t as important to me as you are.”

He pauses for a moment, fingers fiddling absentmindedly with the hood of your sweater. “I kinda- I kinda wanted to do it, though. I like it.”

You pull back so you can look him in the eye. “You do? That’s good. But are you feeling okay enough to have sex right now?”

Taehyung’s eyes dart around the room, a deep golden like molten brown sugar. His lips wobble, like he’s antsy to say something but doesn’t know quite how. “It’s petplay,” he rushes out, “I hope you don’t think it’s weird, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You blink and straighten. “Oh, wow. I wasn’t expecting that. Am I- Do I put on cat ears, or something?”

Taehyung looks stricken, wilting back until he’s leaning onto the bench. “I kinda… Could you hear me out and promise not to laugh?”

“Of course,” you insist immediately, “I don’t think it’s weird, Tae, I wanna learn more.”

Breath whistles past his lips as he lets out a sigh of relief, nodding over and over. “Okay, I, alright, I- So way back at the start, I think the second day maybe? I don’t know exact times, but to try and get to know each other more, Hobi-hyung and I video called from our separate rooms that night for like, hours. It was after I sucked him off, actually, but that’s not- Anyways, he spoke a lot about his job, you know, and some of the cool things he got to see there. The first Wednesday of every month was like a themed play party, and he said he was guttered because he’d miss the petplay one. I didn’t really, um, I thought he meant you could bring your pets and stuff to the club that day and play with them? But it’s actually, you know, like people acting like animals and uh-”

“Taehyung,” you interrupt softly, slipping your hand in his. His chest is tight and his hand trembling just slightly as he watches you warily. “You don’t have to stress over this. I don’t think it’s weird, or you’re weird, and I don’t mind giving it a go. Come on, let’s sit down.”

Taehyung goes slack, letting you tug him by the hand over to the couches in the lounge. Tucking your legs under you, you face him but keep your hand in his, watching him patiently.

Pushing the hair off his face with his free hand, Taehyung seems relieved to be able to relax against the back of the couch, some of that tension leaving his frame. “I just think it sounds really peaceful,” he admits. “I mean, I already like sitting on the floor, and I love dogs. But… you know when everything is just a bit too much, and you reckon it would be nice to let someone else make the decisions for a while?”

You grin and nod. “Absolutely. I like not having that burden sometimes,”

Taehyung nods enthusiastically, the beginnings of a smile creeping on his lips. “Obviously that’s what it’s like for most types of subbing, I guess, but there’s just something really appealing to me about petplay. To just be loved and pampered like a well-behaved dog, not have to speak or worry about anything but following basic commands. And so maybe I’m not in a good headspace right now to have sex, but I think I need to just be able to let go for a bit. You know?”

You hum in agreement, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder. “That makes a lot of sense, Tae.”

“I’ve kinda been obsessing over the thought of it ever since, especially when I got the prompt. It all just feels right.” He shifts excitedly, jostling you slightly. “And Jimin has been helping me. He gave me some ideas and said he could play with me if you were too freaked out by it. So if you don’t want to-”

“I want to,” you answer without even thinking. “I want to be able to help you like that.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung asks warmly. “It means… That means so much to me, Y/n. Really. But…” He trails off with a sheepish laugh. “Could we, um, if you were okay with it-”

“Ask Jimin to still join us?” you question, chuckling when Taehyung ruefully confirms. “I’d like that, Tae. Let’s go up to him and chat, huh? He should be out of the shower by now.”

Taehyung grins as you sit up and both stand. “You and Jimin sure had a good time last night, huh?”

“And how would you know?” you quip, still hand-in-hand as you make your way upstairs.

Taehyung chuckles after a beat. “Because it’s Jimin, of course it was good.”

You playfully shove at his shoulder. “Fuck, I can’t fault you there.”

Jungkook grimaces at the volume of the door slamming behind him. It was easy to forget his own strength when he felt so small.

Inside, he gasps down air, his lungs and heart pumping overtime as his emotions struggle to settle. The toast isn’t sitting right in his stomach, but he’d probably feel even worse if he hadn’t eaten.

Across from him, sitting in an office chair with a laptop open in front of him, Jin gapes at the intruder. “Excuse me?”

Jungkook frowns. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re in my room,” Jin exclaims. “You dramatically stormed in here and slammed the door like you’re the protagonist in a shitty coming of age movie realising his childhood is over and his friends don’t understand him. So, and I won’t say this again, excuse me?”

“I just want someone to speak to who might be able to help, and you’ve said before that your door is always open-”

“My door was actually shut, I think you’ll find.”

Metaphorically open,” Jungkook huffs. “Will you help me or not? I’m freaking out, hyung.”

Jin’s face softens, easing the iron grip of doubt around Jungkook’s heart. “Of course hyung will help,” he promises, “you can sit on the bed, I just need to finish this email first, it won’t take long.”

Jungkook sighs in relief at the offer, bounding over to the queen size bed. Though it was the same size as his, it somehow felt so much more inviting, and while the background noise of keyboard clicks fills the room, Jungkook looks over the plushies. Selecting a pink stuffed bunny with floppy ears and a fat body, the youngest man settles back against the headboard, clutching it to his chest.

Watching Jin’s broad back as he typed away feels too much like the therapist’s waiting room as a teen, when he’d had more worries and emotions than his rapidly growing body could take. He’d sit and stare at the receptionist as she clicked the keys, sorting files and booking patients. Waiting was always worse than the appointments themselves, Jungkook constantly half-expecting his therapist - a stern but soft-hearted man who asked to be called Hoojung, not Doctor - would laugh at him and call him crazy. It frustrated him that, over five years later, he was in the same place again.

“Okay, all done.” Jin rolls away in his chair, closing the laptop lid with a tired exhale, before turning to the younger man. “Sorry, work stuff. One of my replacements isn’t doing such a- Nevermind, this is about you. What’s going on, JK?”

Jungkook feels himself soften at the fond nickname. His Jin-hyung wouldn’t laugh at him. Taking a deep breath, he clutches at the pink bunny in his grasp, long fingers wrapped around its stubby paw. “What’s worse; seeing everyone getting along but forcing myself not to get close, or letting myself get close knowing that we’ll probably all leave this house in a month and never talk again? I can’t decide.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Jungkook watches Jin closely as his face sobers. “I can’t quite decide either, to be honest,” the sex therapist admits. “But let me ask you a question. Right now, keeping everyone at a distance, does it hurt? Do you miss them?”

Jungkook chews on the inside of his lip, frowning. “Mhm.”

Jin’s face is kind, the few fine lines around his eyes are soft with empathy, a real understanding. “Then I think it’s too late for the first option, Jungkook. And I think you came here knowing it was too late.”

Although he automatically opens his mouth to deny it, Jungkook realises the older man is right. He lets out a helpless breath and clutches harder at the giving surface of the stuffed toy. “I like them so much, hyung! And when they’re getting friendly with other people I just feel even worse. I know being jealous is selfish and wrong but I just can’t help but want to be the one they’re talking to and laughing with. I didn’t realise how bad it was until Taehyung said something when we were in the confessional room…” He trails off, not even sure what else to say.

“You keep using they,” Jin points out slowly. “Do you want to keep the gender of this person anonymous, Jungkook?”

“Huh?” Jungkook blinks, taken off-guard, but as his brain processes it, Jin has already caught up.

“Oh, I see. It’s… multiple people, isn’t it?”

Jungkook winces, avoiding the piercing gaze. “It’s-” Basically everyone, but especially... “Yeah, multiple, it’s multiple. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Jin shrugs, scooting closer on his chair until his knees press against the side of the mattress. “I don’t think so. I also don’t think you’re the only one catching feelings, Jungkook.”

“What; has somebody else told you they have a crush?” he questions warily. Jin shakes his head. “Then… Then you’re catching feelings?”

Taking a deep breath, Jin rests his elbows on his knees so he can clasp his hands together. “You know the whole doctor-patient confidentiality? Well, that goes both ways, Jungkook. Do you understand?”

Heart racing with the thought of the oldest confessing a secret to him, Jungkook nods quickly, pulse in his wrist thumping against the soft fabric belly of the bunny.

“The truth is,” Jin begins, “though she has six guys younger and cooler than me in the house, I’ve just- I really like Y/n. I was debating whether I should tell her.”

Even as those illogical swirls of jealously collect in Jungkook’s chest, he sits forward with a gasp. “You should, hyung!”

But Jin doesn’t seem to share his same enthusiasm. “Unfortunately it would be a waste of time,” he explains, “since Y/n just sees it as sex.”

Jungkook flinches back. “Surely not,” he protests, “but she’s so nice!”

Jin lets out a flat laugh that dies off quickly. “I’m not saying she’s mean, Kook, I’m saying we had sex outside of the prompts and stuff and she still called it a scene, so clearly that’s all it is to her. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable by telling her I like her, so I’m just going to- I don’t know, try and get over it.”

Frowning, Jungkook stays silent for a moment. Everything Jin was saying sounded so strange. So wrong. “Are you saying I should just get over T- get over them?”

Jin’s eyes flicker at the slip-up, but he doesn’t comment on it, wincing instead. “You know what, that was probably a bad example. I just wanted to say you weren’t alone in feeling things. That’s perfectly normal and human, especially when you’re literally in the same household twenty-four seven. I’m not saying you have to get over them, I think you should just do whatever makes you happy.”

Jungkook glances down at the toy bunny, the sleepy smile and blushy cheeks. “Okay. What makes me happy.”

“Whatever it is,” Jin’s voice calls kindly out to him, “this isn’t it. You don’t look happy pushing them away. Pushing us all away. Maybe it’ll hurt once the show ends, but would you rather be grateful for the good memories or regret never making any?”

The bunny looks like its encouraging him. Jungkook swallows, nods, and places it down. “Thanks, hyung. I should go make things right.”

Jin’s face crumples in disapproval as he stands up. “Tomorrow, perhaps, Kook. You need a long shower, a decent meal and a good night’s sleep first.”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open. “A good night’s sleep? It’s not even lunchtime.”

Glancing at the watch on his wrist, Jin considers this. “You’re right. You need a long shower, two decent meals and a good night’s sleep. Come on; hyung will cook some soup for you.”

Unable to turn down a home-cooked meal, Jungkook follows happily behind, bubbly hope fizzing between his ribs.

Jimin and Taehyung are both more prepared than you expected, the younger one basically vibrating with excitement as Jimin leans over to his nightstand, pulling out a collar from the bottom drawer.

Though it may not have his name on it, it’s clearly meant for Taehyung. The outside is simple black leather, but there’s a silk lining on the inside and a small silver loop on the front from which dangles a flat, loveheart-shaped pendant.

The three of you hadn’t exchanged many words when Jimin had let you into his room, Taehyung informing him he was ready to play. Now, though Jimin sits everyone down along the side of his bed, collar in his lap like a prize Taehyung can’t keep his eyes off.

“Are you sure?”

Taehyung understands the question without needing further explanation. He wets his lips. “I want it, Minnie. Could we just… spend some time together like that?”

Jimin’s nodding even as his eyes slide down to yours for confirmation. “Of course. Whatever you need. We don’t even have to play this time, Tae. We could just put a movie on and let you get used to it for a while, yeah?”

Taehyung nods slowly, but his eyes are lidded as he watches the silver heart swing with every slight movement Jimin makes. “That would be really nice,  yeah. Can I put the collar on now, Minnie?”

Jimin sucks in a breath, lifting it up and gently unbuckling the back. The two of them seem so in tune to each other, and if you didn’t feel warm within the bubble of that shared affection, you’d probably be green with envy. As it is, you let Jimin raise the collar to Taehyung’s neck, the younger man dipping his head immediately so he can reach easier.

“Alright, Tae,” Jimin says slowly, his voice clear and smooth like honey, “you can be our puppy for as little or as long as you want. Puppies don’t talk, but you can always use your safewords. If you don’t wanna speak, stomp your foot three times in a row, and that will be just like saying red, okay?”

Taehyung nods, hair hanging low to obscure his face. Jimin’s fingers are nimble as they fasten the buckle of the collar around his neck, just snug enough that it rests comfortably at the point where his neck begins to widen. Taehyung’s foot jiggles, restless with excitement, but he stays quiet.

“Tae,” Jimin repeats with a slightly sharper tone, “can you show me our other safeword so I know you understand?”

The foot that was tapping against the carpet now comes down in three strong thuds.

Jimin smiles warmly, finished with the collar, and reaches his hands down to clasp Taehyung’s soft cheeks. “Good boy,” he praises. Glancing up at you, his hands drop and one begins to lazily rub Taehyung’s thigh. “My laptop is on the desk there, we can put on some Netflix.”

You can hear Jimin quietly murmuring as you get up and grab it, and by the time you return he’s changed positions, half-propped up on pillows as Taehyung sits on the bed, watching silently.

You’d expected Taehyung to be acting different to his usual self, so it surprised you to see that he seemed to be the same, just a very calm and mute version. Perhaps he was still in a low mood because of the fight with Jungkook earlier in the day, but he seemed content enough to sit and wait for one of you to take the lead.

You remember his words about not having to speak or worry about doing anything other than following others’ commands. A warm smile curls on your lips as you hand the laptop to Jimin and make yourself comfortable next to him, a human-sized gap between you. “C’mere, pup,” you call out softly to Tae, patting the space between you, “come lie down.”

He crawls over, body far larger than the two of you, and settles down obediently. Though it’s perhaps a little strange treating him like this, you can’t deny that it’s endearing the way he shyly rests his head on your stomach, an arm lazily draped over your lap.

As Jimin fiddles with the laptop, you can’t help but seize your opportunity. You’ve been obsessed with Taehyung’s thick, heavy curls since you first laid an eye on him, and now is your chance to play with it to your heart’s content.

You bury a hand in down the back of his scalp, his head rising and falling with the rhythm of your breath. He makes a noise of contentment low in his throat, fingers twitching, but otherwise doesn’t react. Slowly, you card your fingers through, gently breaking up any tangles, watching them bounce back. Maybe you could plait some without him noticing…

“Kim Bok Joo?”

“Huh?” You blink, glancing up.

Jimin smiles over at the two of you, a raw kind of smile as he watches Taehyung curl up on your stomach, his back pressed to Jimin’s side. His voice is low, like he doesn’t want to disturb Taehyung’s sense of serenity. “Do you wanna watch an episode or two of Kim Bok Joo? Have you seen it?”

“Oh! Yes, sounds good. Good choice.” You can’t help but raise a brow as Jimin settles the laptop on his lap, angled towards you. So he’s the K-drama type.

Even though Jimin plays the show at a low volume, it’s plenty loud enough with how quiet the three of you are. Truthfully, you can’t remember the last time you’d spent quality time like this with any of the guys, which was a strange thought in itself considering you’d only known them two weeks.

But time seemed to pass a little differently in the villa. Or perhaps each one of them was just special enough that you felt like you’d been there longer. As you run your hand absentmindedly through Taehyung’s thick hair, you find it difficult to keep your eyes and mind on the show.

This close to him, you can smell Jimin’s sweet and slightly floral scent as his head tips to the side, resting on the pillows. His profile is beautiful; the rich blue of his hair has been combed back to reveal a strong brow that leads down to his delicate nose and plush lips.

Though he’s wearing relatively casual clothing - sleek black leggings and a thigh-length burgundy shirt- he still looks undoubtedly regal, a slender hand rubbing Taehyung’s back smoothly as he watches the show, perfectly comfortable in the relaxed atmosphere of the room.

The only thing keeping you from drifting off is the constant pressure on your stomach and lap, Taehyung’s hand unconsciously clutching at the hem of your hoodie, his breaths even and matching yours.

He’s so calm and settled between you and Jimin that you don’t notice he’s fallen asleep until Jimin reduces the volume slightly and nudges your shoulder.

“Big guy went down for a nap, huh?”

Your hand pauses as you lean over to check Taehyung’s face. Undeniably asleep, he grunts when the stroking of his hair stops, face smoothing out only once you brush the mop of hair back from his forehead and continue to trace your fingers over his scalp. “He’s had a rough morning,” you admit softly, “I guess he needed this.”

Jimin hums, resting the laptop down on the nightstand beside him. Turning onto his side, he continues rubbing slow circles on Tae’s back as he chats with you. “He wasn’t sure you’d be okay with this.”

Your brows knit. “Have you- Did the two of you play together before?”

He shakes his head easily. “Talked about it a lot, though. I’m surprised he never even knew about it before because he seems to really love it.”

“I didn’t realise it was like this,” you admit. “Though I suppose my closest experience to this was Yoongi’s scene this week. He definitely was acting like some kind of animal, but it was a total one-eighty compared to this.”

Jimin frowns, eyes not leaving Taehyung’s prone body. “You said he had a rough morning? I wonder if he might be more, uh, boisterous or misbehaving if he was in a better mood.”

You ponder the thought. An energetic Tae, bouncing on top of you with a dopey grin. Or perhaps a Tae that would refuse to follow orders just so that he’d get dragged by the collar and whacked on the nose. “I guess so. Why; do you think he wants to do this again?”

Jimin’s hand slides up to Taehyung’s neck, where he slips a finger lightly under the collar, checking if it’s still comfortable. “I think so. I said I’d buy him a collar half as a joke, but you should’ve seen the way his eyes lit up.”

Even as he speaks, Jimin’s eyes glitter too. “You seem pretty fond of him,” you offer up slowly. Your heart thuds against your ribs, and you can’t quite tell who it’s racing for.

Jimin’s eyes glance up to the corner of his room where the camera lies. Smoothly, he leans in over Taehyung’s head closer to you and lowers his voice even more, face neutral. “I think he’s amazing. And I feel so safe around him. I like him a lot, Y/n.”

You swallow hard. “He likes you a lot too.”

Jimin’s brow twitches, he widens his eyes and looks up at you. “Did he say that?”

Nodding, you try not to let your hand still in Taehyung’s hair lest he wake up. “After the two of you-” You cough lightly, wary of the cameras picking up some audio. “After that, he admitted to me that he really liked you.”

Across from you, Jimin almost looks pained. “I always- it- He’d always talk about you, so I never expected he really…”

You have the sudden urge to jump in excitement, but you suppress it, letting out a shaky laugh. “Is it really so hard to believe that maybe he’d develop feelings for multiple people?” You bite down hard on your tongue, holding back the words that threaten to slip out. I know I have.

Before you even get close to spilling, a sudden movement against your stomach catches your attention.

Taehyung’s waking up, nuzzling against you as he groans happily.

A smile stretches across Jimin’s lips without him even noticing, his voice soft as Taehyung turns his head around and blinks his eyes open. “Wakey wakey,” he coos, reaching out to tap Taehyung on the tip of the nose. “Had a big sleep, huh? Good boy.”

Taehyung beams, but soon he’s wriggling away from Jimin’s touch, nudging at your lower abdomen with more pressure.

Your breath catches when his nose manages to lift the hem of your hoodie, pushing it up to reveal bare skin. The stubble on Taehyung’s jaw and cheeks scratches against you when he begins to nip harshly, and you suck in a gasp, stomach muscles tensing.

“Tae,” Jimin scolds shortly, “are you being naughty?”

The two of you pause, waiting for his reaction. Giving him the chance to choose whether he’d like to be a bratty mutt or an obedient pet.

After a moment, you see the flash of pink before you feel it; Taehyung laps over the reddening marks to soothe them.

Your heart melts, brushing back his hair with a palm. He nuzzles into your palm with closed eyes. “Puppy just wants to play,” you surmise.

Taehyung’s eyes crinkle in affirmation, and Jimin makes a warm noise of approval, rolling over to pin Tae tighter between the two of you.

With one hand reaching over Taehyung’s shoulder to fiddle with the button of your jeans, Jimin’s face is mere centimetres away. “I’ve been teaching doggy some tricks,” Jimin explains, “I think he wants to show you.”

Your eyes widen, nose brushing against Jimin’s as you nod. Jimin’s grin widens, his fingers pop the button and push down the zip, and Taehyung is giving you his biggest pleading puppy eyes until you slide them off.

You barely have time to wrap your head around the change in atmosphere and your quick state of undress before Taehyung is shuffling down, his nose rubbing over your clothed pussy.

Taehyung has gone down on you before, but this feels so different; playful rather than streamlined. He laps messily over where your panties have become damp with arousal, well and truly soaking them. Your legs part naturally, the added friction of fabric against your clit combined with the enthusiastic pressure of his nose making you weak. Every movement causes his stubble to drag down the seam of your thighs lightly, and your mind whirls imagining what it will feel like once you slide the wet fabric off.

Though it’s not as strong a sensation of Taehyung between your legs, you’re no less aware of Jimin’s breath wafting over your cheek with his proximity. He lies to your side, watching carefully and tracing a finger in lazy circles on your hipbone.

Though the pleasure is quickly peaking your arousal, the barrier of your panties is beginning to frustrate you, and it seems it’s doing the same to Taehyung. He makes a low noise of disapproval as pushing his nose and mouth harder into you still fails to get him anywhere. He begins to chew at the waistband with his teeth, throat still rumbling as he tugs it.

You’d probably have to throw the pair of panties out once you were done, but you couldn’t care less as you feel Jimin’s hand slip under the opposite side, helping Taehyung slip them down your hips.

Once you discard them carelessly over the side of the bed and straighten your legs again, you let out a squeak as Taehyung dives back between your legs without hesitation. Broad strokes of his tongue swipe your clit as he sloppily eats you out make your thighs tremble. He’s pure energy, lapping you up like he’s chasing your taste, and you find yourself rocking your hips into his face, guiding his tongue. Without any protection, his stubble is more prominent, a rough scratch that would probably be raw and sensitive tomorrow, but feels like heaven now.

Jimin’s impossibly closer now; you can feel his lean stomach pressed against your hip, one elbow on the cushions propping him up. Shamelessly, he presses his cheek against yours to follow the line of your body down, watching Taehyung.

This way, you can feel how Jimin beams like a proud owner, or the shift of his jaw when he bites on his lip to muffle a moan. Still, his other hand draws senseless patterns on the skin where your hoodie has risen up. “Is puppy behaving?” he asks in a soft voice, though the three of you are so closely entwined that both you and Tae easily hear.

You groan when Jimin’s hand drops lower, holding the curls off of Taehyung’s face so the two of you can see his expression, the bright eyes and glistening face. The sight is erotic enough that you have to fight the urge to throw back your head in pleasure, eyelids heavy. “Pu-puppy’s being such a good boy,” you manage to gasp out, whimpering when his lips twitch and his teeth nip at your clit in response.

Jimin chuckles, tugging at Tae’s black locks. “He’s a bit cheeky, isn’t he?” he murmurs. “Good doggies don’t bite, Tae.”

With an indignant huff, Taehyung doubles his previous efforts, head dipping low again so that his tongue can dip into your entrance and his nose bumps at your swollen clit instead.

You curse, legs trembling as they struggle to decide whether to open wide or lock around his head. The heat in your core is only exacerbated by the slight burn of his scruff, and it sends your pleasure skyward, a bubble growing impossibly big and threatening to burst.

As if the overwhelming sensations you already are feeling aren’t enough, Jimin’s hand trails up, over the fabric of your hoodie and clasps your chin gently. His voice is so low it barely leaves his throat as he turns your face towards him. “C’mere, little mouse.”

You haven’t heard him use that nickname in so long, and it turns you to putty in his grasp. All you catch is a brief flash of his lidded eyes burning hotly before he’s joining your lips together. Like an electrical circuit being wired up, the feeling of Jimin’s plush lips and silky cheeks on yours, and Taehyung’s aggressive tongue and rough jaw between your legs send shocks of pleasure throughout your whole body, making you shiver.

Jimin hums, pleased, and keeps his thumb holding your chin steady as he languidly makes out with you. The last time you’d kissed him - just the night before, in fact - was messy and needy, relatively similar to the shameless way Taehyung eats you out, but today Jimin is calm and collected, the epitome of grace. He holds you like he’s being careful, the kisses never deepening past the occasional swipe of his tongue across your lower lip, and the contrast between your two boys drives you crazy.

Your two boys.

An unbidden moan bubbles out of your throat at the thought; your boys, who took care of you and let you take care of them in turn. Who made your heart warm and race and miss a beat altogether. Jimin had said Taehyung liked you. And perhaps it was wishful thinking to imagine that Jimin may like you too, but it was certainly easy to pretend when he kissed you so sweetly.

As unconscious throaty noises come out of Taehyung’s throat with every slurp of your wetness, and your shallow cries of pleasure drown out Jimin’s satisfied humming, it’s that sunny, open feeling in your chest that pulls you over the edge. Pinned between two men you were crazy about, that were crazy about each other and maybe even you too. There’s no one else in your mind except them, and it feels so right to be three.

You cum quietly, softly, shaking and falling back against the pillows as Jimin moves his lips to your temple, pressing kisses there since you can no longer reciprocate.

Your hips tilt up against Taehyung as you sigh out bliss, and he faithfully follows your lead, sucking at your clit to draw out the warm pleasure. It’s only once the pinpricks of overstimulation take over that you gently push Taehyung’s face away, gasping for air.

Jimin sits up, letting Taehyung roll away onto a cool patch of the duvet, panting himself. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are glinting with wetness, and you try to quietly collect yourself as you watch Jimin sit cross-legged, taking Taehyung’s head into his lap and bending over so that he can press a kiss to his nose.

“Is puppy all tuckered out for the day, hm? All done?”

Having been non-verbal this whole time, it almost shocks you to hear Taehyung’s voice, husky with desire. “Fuck, Jimin.”

The blue-haired man lets out a light laugh, hands cupping Taehyung’s cheeks so gently. “Is that a good ‘fuck, Jimin’ or a bad one?”

Good, so good,” Taehyung assures. “Thank you. I feel amazing.”

You sit up, letting your hoodie fall to cover yourself. “You seemed really happy, Tae. I’m glad.”

Taehyung’s eyes slide over to you, and suddenly he’s getting up, almost headbutting Jimin in his haste to rush over to you. You squeal when his sticky face presses against yours, the masseuse laying tired but determined kisses across your cheeks, forehead, nose, and finally one on your mouth. He pulls back, pauses at the evidence of your own arousal that’s now smeared across your skin, and winces. “Sorry,” he lets out sheepishly, “I just wanted to thank you. For being okay with this, and for being so nice to me when I was… You know. Just thank you.”

You grin, giggling at his antics. “It was my pleasure. Literally, too.” As he beams at you, you bite your lip, not wanting this to be over. “Tae and I should probably get this stuff off our faces before it dries. Jimin, can we use your bathroom?”

Taehyung’s eyes gleam even more than the glossy sheen on his face. “Yeah, Minnie! Come help us.”

Jimin shakes his head fondly. “Fine, but no bath. Last time you were in there so long I thought your skin would fall right off.”

Taehyung pouts, but doesn’t protest, grabbing your hand and tugging you off the bed to follow him in.

Much like yours, Jimin’s bathroom is rather large with a separate bath and shower, a toilet and a vanity. You take a seat on the toilet with the lid down as Taehyung shamelessly rifles through the vanity’s drawers and cupboards.

Once Jimin comes in, instead of just walking over, he pauses and shuts the door quietly behind him, taking a deep breath.

You and Taehyung freeze, staring at him expectantly as he walks between the two of you to perch on the thick edge of the bathtub.

“I’ve been thinking…” Jimin begins, scratching lightly at his wrist.

“Always a relief to hear.”

“Taehyung!”

“Sorry. Continue.”

Jimin rounds his lips and blows out a puff of air, steadying himself once more. “I’ve been thinking… I know Taehyung likes Y/n, and Y/n clearly likes Tae.”

You go wide-eyed, cheeks heating up as you glance across to Tae who is reacting the exact same.

The older man takes no notice, head ducked to stare at the tiles. He seems strangely small, less commanding though no less enchanting than his bolder side. “And… I really like Tae, and Y/n told me Tae likes me, and I sure as hell hope Y/n likes me because I can’t stop thinking about her-”

When Jimin pauses lightly, you don’t know whether he’s actually looking for an answer, but you blurt one out anyway. “Of course I do.” Though your hoodie covers you as you sit on the toilet seat, a chill seeps through you nonetheless. Taehyung has gone so still, crouched in front of an open cabinet with a wary yet hopeful expression.

Jimin’s eyes shoot up at your words, lips parting like he can’t quite believe it. Nodding once, his shoulders go lax. “Right, okay, so we’ve gotten ourselves into an absolute mess where I feel- I can’t pick either of you, and I’d feel miserable with neither of you, and if what I’m saying is making any sense at all, and if you feel the same way, then what if we just-” He cuts himself off abruptly, wary of his voice rising as he gets worked up, and sends the two of you a hesitant look. “We could be together, you know? The three of us. Maybe.”

His words leave a delay of silence in the air as you and Taehyung process. Even as your heart is screaming yes, doing flips and tumbles behind your ribs, the conversation you had with Jungkook comes to mind. “What about the others?” you ask lowly.

Jimin begins to shake his head, but his eyes widen. “I didn’t even- I don’t know.”

You bite your lip, feet so cold as they bounce on the icy tile. “I don’t want to say no, Jimin, but wouldn’t it put them at a disadvantage? They’d assume I was playing favourites, and I don’t want this getting any uglier than it-”

“What if we just don’t tell anyone?” Taehyung blurts, eyes shining. From his position on the floor, he has to crane his neck up to the both of you, but his face is open with hope. “If they didn’t know then they wouldn’t think that. We can be careful.”

“But the cameras,” you offer up weakly. Even as you say it, the protests die in your chest. You want this, and perhaps you’re willing to do something stupid and selfish if it means you’ll be happy. If it means that they’ll be happy too.

“Does it matter if the cameras know?” Jimin asks softly. “I get wanting to keep it secret from the others, but- well, first of all, I’m sure relationship drama will be exactly what the showrunners want to get their views up, and… I don’t know, lately I’ve started caring less about the cameras. I think I wanna try letting myself just be human for a change.” He ducks his head again, fingers wringing together, and your resolve crumbles.

“I want it,” you say carefully, smiling at the way both Jimin and Taehyung whip their heads to you simultaneously. “Sure, things could get messy, but so what? I think being human sounds nice.”

Jimin blinks hard, letting out a breath of relief. “What about you, pup?”

Taehyung nods. “I want it too. I want us. Especially if we get to have more time together like that.”

Your heart feels so full it’s close to splitting, unable to control your grin. But the wide beam only makes something itch on your face, and your face crumples when you realise what it is. “Oh, fuck, we seriously need to get this off our faces, it’s drying.”

Jimin throws his head back with a peal of laughter, just about tipping into the bathtub. “I should have popped the question when you weren’t covered in cum, that’s my bad.”

Taehyung pouts, holding out a face towel. “Come clean it off then, Minnie.”

You’re reminded of his obedient yet playful nature as he holds his chin up, letting Jimin gently wipe everything away with a wet corner of the towel, even going so far as to massaging some cleanser into his face, chuckling when the suds get into Tae’s nose and make him sneeze.

The three of you spend a peaceful, unhurried eternity in that bathroom, getting used to each other’s company not as roommates or sexual partners but as lovers. Every moment is warm and comfortable and light, Jimin taking his time to clean off your face too, before you and Taehyung return the favour by tackling a side of Jimin’s face each, removing his makeup and dutifully following every step of his obscenely elaborate skincare routine.

By the time you all make your way to Taehyung’s room after sneaking down the hallway one at a time, and hop into bed, the three feels more like one. All of you sharing the sweet chamomile scent of Jimin’s night cream, bodies clad in Taehyung’s t-shirts - though they were far baggier on you and Jimin than him, dwarfing your smaller frames - and with limbs hopelessly entangled.

You feel Jimin’s arm draped low over your stomach as his cheek rests on the back of your neck, Taehyung’s leg hitched all the way over to Jimin as his chin sits on the crown of your head, his breaths lightly tickling your scalp.

If you could, you’d stay here forever, warm and secure between the two of them. Though you have no doubt the night filter on the camera in Taehyung’s room will be capturing the chaste kisses Jimin presses on your bare shoulder when the hem of the shirt falls off it, and the way your fingers have found their way to Taehyung’s entwined together and resting in the small space between you, you can’t bring yourself to care, and it’s this unburdened feeling of contentment that lulls you to sleep.

Chapter Text

There’s something exciting and indulgent about sitting apart from Taehyung and Jimin, yet sharing secret glances and muffled smiles.

You’d had to leave Taehyung’s room at different times, you and Jimin sneaking back to your respective rooms to change out of his clothes so it didn’t look odd.

As the eight of you gather in the lounge, sleepily curled up with mugs of coffee or lying back against the couch for a few more moments of peace, the familiar faces of the others send a pang of guilt through you. Like you were lying to them. Omission is a type of lie, you suppose, but you try and smother the feeling. You’re allowed to be selfish.

Especially when it made Taehyung and Jimin look so happy.

Taehyung, who was almost always cheerful much like the puppy you saw last night, now looks like he can’t even contain it, his toes wiggling and eyes gleaming. Jimin, who on the other hand tended to be a little stiff and wary during these meetings, seemed more at ease than he’s ever been in front of everyone.

Could the others really blame you for wanting to see them happy?

You bite down hard on your tongue as Sejin arrives, the final piece in the puzzle. Maybe they could. You count your lucky blessings you don’t have to pick a favourite as well as someone to eliminate. Staying objective and making a decision tomorrow would be hard enough.

“Are we all ready?” Sejin checks, consulting with his watch to ensure it was in fact nine on the dot.

Catching everyone off guard, it’s Jungkook that speaks up, sitting beside you with crossed legs. “Ready, PD!”

The rest of you go still for a moment of surprised silence. When was the last time Jungkook had sounded that chipper? You’d found it strange when, being only the third one downstairs after you and Jin, Jungkook had neglected the last empty couch in favour of sitting beside you. Still half asleep, he’d exchanged pleasantries and basically face-planted into a cup of hot chocolate, inhaling the steam like his life depended on it.

Now, though, he seems more alert than most of you, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he waited for the meeting to start.

As you glance around, everyone seems equally shocked and relieved, except Jin, who just smiles quietly. You send the eldest a questioning gaze, but he just shrugs.

“Alright, today we just need to cover the prompts, Y/n’s Bangasm Bomb, and then we’ll finish off with the audience vote for fan favourite. Sound good?”

At the mention of fan favourite, Jungkook straightens up, knee jiggling. Your heart goes out to him. Not only had he had a rough time lately, but he put so much effort in to his prompt, and you can’t help but hope he gets it. He could use some cheering up, though he seemed cheerful again all on his own. “I’ll cross my fingers for you, Doctor Jeon,” you promise with a soft smile.

He glances back at you, eyes glittering. “You will?”

“Of course.” Out of the corner of your vision, you feel two sets of eyes on you. “You did well.”

He wrings his hands, gaze dropping. “I wasn’t even top three last week.”

You shrug lightly. “Then you’ll be most improved.”

When he grins, teeth poking out cutely, your shoulders drop in relief. “If I win, I’ll take you somewhere really fun, I promise!”

“Alright,” Sejin cuts in, breaking off your conversation, “our theme was dynamics and roleplay. Just like with last week, we’ll go through each of the guys and get Y/n to guess. Should be pretty easy. And we’ll see if anyone will be taking over the bunkrooms. Namjoon and Hoseok, you’ll be returning to your rooms tonight unless you failed your prompt again.”

Namjoon and Hoseok, squished up on either side of Taehyung, lean over him to high-five after the older one cheers.

“I’ll miss it,” Hoseok confesses, “but I missed my own bed even more. Namjoon; you’re welcome for a sleepover anytime.”

“A sleepover sounds fun,” Taehyung answers quietly, but Hoseok trills and cups his cheeks, inviting him too.

Across the other side, to the left of Jin and Yoongi, Jimin stiffens and instinctively sends you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part, but of course you can’t say anything in front of everyone.

Instead, you give a minute shrug and lean back. Taehyung had already spent the past two weeks being relatively free with his affections, and it seems unfair to get upset by it now. Especially when you were still having sex with other people.

Like a bucket of cold water down your back, the decision you made last night comes into clarity. You couldn’t go out on dates. You couldn’t really kiss or hold hands in front of the others lest they find out. And you couldn’t even be faithful to them. What exactly made declaring your feelings and choosing to be together any different from how you were before?

Before you get too deep into your thoughts, you notice the room has gone silent, everyone staring at you. “Hm? Sorry?”

Sejin’s pointing to Jin expectantly. “Could you state your guess for what Seokjin’s prompt was, Y/n?”

Jin’s face is weirdly unreadable, eyes not really focusing on yours. You struggle to process enough to recall the answer. “Um, poolboy.”

Jin remains silent, making Sejin cough awkwardly. “Yes, poolboy and client was his prompt. Congratulations, Seokjin, you didn’t explicitly tell Y/n your prompt and successfully completed it.”

On the other side of the room, Taehyung’s eyes fly wide, before his shoulders slump, blushing as Hoseok quietly teases him.

“Yoongi?”

You clear your throat, feeling weirdly strung-out, like your attention is in a million places at once. Get through the meeting, then you can chat with Min and Tae. Just stay focussed. “Yoongi was, like, an animal?”

“Predator and prey,” Yoongi explains smoothly, finally starting to look a little less zombie-like. “And I made sure we were in view of the cameras outside. The ones by the gazebo.”

Sejin nods, choosing to sit on the coffee table instead of just standing in front of you all. “Right. Congratulations, Yoongi, you also successfully completed your prompt within the rules. Jimin’s one?”

You’re pretty sure every person in this room could guess his without a second thought. “Stripper.”

Jimin blows you a teasing kiss with a wink, and you try not to look too endeared, heart leaping at the soft look that hides behind his flirty act. “I hope you all enjoyed the show.”

Beside you, Jungkook goes oddly stiff, face falling. But before you can ask him about it, he’s taking a deep breath and putting on a smile again, albeit a smaller one. You frown as Sejin congratulates Jimin before turning to your couch and indicating it’s Jungkook’s turn.

“Doctor and patient,” you hear yourself answer easily, but you find yourself still worried about him, remembering what he said about Jimin yesterday. Maybe he wasn’t as cheery as he was making himself seem today.

A similar look of worry flickers across Jimin’s face at Jungkook’s odd response, and you decide that once the meeting is done, you’ll ask Jungkook about it. Maybe get him to talk to you privately, or everyone so you’re all on the same page. Anything so that you can resolve the strange upset Jungkook seems to have.

“…his prompt. Now, Namjoon?”

“Husband and wife,” you offer up reflexively, grateful of the warm albeit shy smile Namjoon sends you in response.

“Now, Namjoon and Y/n, I’m aware you spent a significant amount of time together in the rec room. Of course, you can retain your privacy, but I do need to ask if Namjoon explicitly told Y/n his prompt in there.”

Looking like a teacher’s pet being told off, Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “I didn’t!”

Sejin lets out a quick laugh, holding a calming hand up. “That’s fine, that’s all I needed. Congratulations, Namjoon, you’re out of the bunkrooms.”

Taehyung looks nervous when Sejin’s stare rests on him. His eyes keep darting around to the other men like he’s waiting for their reactions. When Sejin asks you to guess the prompt, you hesitate. Something about how uncomfortable he looks gives you pause. “She doesn’t have to guess,” Taehyung offers up, “and you don’t have to say it. I already know I lost.”

Sejin gives him a look of sympathy. “The editing team did catch you telling Y/n directly which means you’ll have to stay in the bunks for next week, but unfortunately the nature of these meetings does require each prompt to be revealed to the group.”

You can see the puppy behind Taehyung’s eyes as he rounds them, pouting up at Sejin. “Really?”

“We don’t have to give details,” Sejin offers up shortly. “And none of these prompts will ever be things anyone has on their hard limits list, so please don’t think anyone hear will be in any position to judge it.”

This seems to ease Taehyung’s worry significantly. “Pet and owner,” Taehyung offers up shortly. “And I lost because I told Y/n. Time for Hoseok.”

Even as your heart aches to jump up and go to him, Jimin also shifting in his seat restlessly, you see Hoseok quietly wrap a hand around Taehyung’s elbow and Namjoon rest his head tentatively on Tae’s shoulder. You settle back, forcing yourself to remember you and Jimin aren’t the only ones that care for Taehyung.

Sejin clears his throat and gestures to Hoseok. “Lucky last, I suppose. What’s your guess, Y/n?”

You think back to Monday night. Hoseok teasing you throughout the day and then tying you up at night in the prettiest ropes, feeling entirely under his control. You’d called him Master. “Master and sss….sub?”

Hoseok smiles sweetly, his voice honeyed. “Almost. You and Jungkook were my pretty little slaves, princess.”

In perfect synchronisation, the others turn their heads around to you and Jungkook, sharing a couch. “I remember now,” you state weakly as Jungkook shifts on his spot.

Sejin looks distinctly uncomfortable with the sudden turn, wincing at Hoseok. “Well, congratulations because you also successfully completed your prompt. Anyways, that’s that done, time for the Bangasm Bomb. As you all probably recall,” Sejin explains, sliding off his glasses and wiping the lenses with his shirt as he goes, “the requirement was that Y/n had to stay in a different bed every night otherwise she’d be in the bunkroom. Luckily, she managed to do so, so Taehyung is the only one required to stay there.”

Taehyung shrinks, bottom lip sticking out in disappointment and Jimin watches him, stricken. Against your better judgement, you call out to Sejin. “But are we able to voluntarily go there?”

Sejin shrugs. “Sure, you already did so once this week. No rules against it.”

Jimin brightens up, but before he can say anything, Hoseok’s cheering, jostling Tae’s side. “Guess the sleepover will be back in the bunkroom, Tae!” Across the side of the room, Jimin visibly holds back his irritation.

“Can we do the audience favourite now?” Jungkook pipes up in a hopeful voice.

“Oh, of course.” Sejin fumbles to slide his glasses back on, lenses still smudged at the bottom, and clears his throat dramatically. “Alright, so I’ll just say the top three again. Third place this week was Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen comically as he croaks out a, “Really?”

“Ah, I’m so proud,” Hoseok croons, reaching across Taehyung to pat Namjoon’s knee enthusiastically. “Young grasshopper learnt well.”

Namjoon still seems in disbelief, letting out a stilted laugh. “Wow, I- Goodness, that’s so nice of them!”

Beside you, Jungkook’s practically vibrating with nervous energy. He wasn’t even in the top three last time, and you can tell he’s feeling the pressure. Yoongi seems unbothered, even as his eyes keenly focus on Sejin; Jin waits patiently, not looking like he’s expecting anything. Jimin’s more focused on Taehyung than the announcement, his eyes locked onto the boy that’s sandwiched between Namjoon and Hoseok as they celebrate. Hoseok looks relatively uncaring about the favourite, lips still spread in a heart-shaped grin at Namjoon’s victory like it’s his own.

“Second place,” Sejin continues, “was Jungkook.”

You hear and feel his reaction rather than see it. Hear the exhale as he sinks, a mix of relief and disappointment making his frame go lax on the couch. Leaning over, you send him a warm smile. “Good job, Kook, you did really well.”

“Who’s number one?” he asks instead, leaning forward with his legs tucked up under him.

Sejin gives a small smile. “The highest number of votes this week went to Yoongi.”

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook questions quietly, but it’s drowned out by Hoseok’s excited woop and chirpy laughter as Yoongi’s mouth drops open, doing a double take at the news.

“Are you serious?” Yoongi exclaims, a disbelieving grin spreading across his face as Jin rubs his shoulders and Jimin congratulates him lowly. “Holy shit, who would’ve guessed?” His eyes find you suddenly, brightening with realisation. “I get to take you out tonight,” he declares.

A shock of thrill runs through you at all the possibilities of some private time with the enigmatic doctor, but you can’t help but glance over, wary of Tae and Jimin’s reactions. Though Jimin just looks a little stiff, Taehyung’s eyes are on you, sullen. Rather than jealous, it seems more like he’s disappointed he couldn’t be the one to take you out. It’s a relief he isn’t mad, but it only increases the unsettled feeling in your heart. You, Taehyung and Jimin sorely needed to talk.

“Well, then,” Sejin interrupts, breaking you out of your daze, “that’s your Sunday meeting, I’ll see you all back here tomorrow for elimination.”

Like clockwork, the seven guys turn their heads to look at you, even as Sejin bids you farewell and leaves out the front door.

“Do you know who you’re voting out?” Jin asks with a complete lack of tact, an easy smile hiding the concern in his eyes.

You cough awkwardly. “I have no clue,” you answer honestly. “I’m just… trying not to think about it until I really have to, you know? I still don’t want to vote out any of you.”

“That reminds me,” Jin speaks up, though he states it awkwardly, almost sounding rehearsed, “I think we all need to have a group talk. Set some things straight.”

Jungkook recoils like the comment was directed at him, letting out a light huff. “Can’t this wait?”

Yoongi grimaces. “With all due respect, Jungkookie, I think it would be best to just have a chat now and sort this out. If the therapist thinks we need to talk, he’s probably right.”

“It’s not like it’s urgent,” the youngest rebutts, “let’s just do it some other time.”

Jin sucks in a breath. “We’re all sitting here now, Jungkook, and clearing the air. Unless you want to go back to feeling uncomfortable.”

Jungkook’s eyes cast towards the ceiling like he can’t believe he’s stuck here. “Oh my god! I already spoke to you, just pass it on!”

“You know I can’t do that, Jungkook,” Jin says calmly, even as his eyes flare in ire. “We want you to be happy, and I’m sure you’re not the only one that has been struggling, and if we-”

“If you want me to be happy, fucking let me leave, Jesus,” Jungkook swears, and you flinch when he suddenly stands, rushing away quickly. “I’ll come back when I’m done.”

“Done?” Jin asks, looking completely lost. “Goodness, that kid gets angry at everything these days.”

“A talk does sound really helpful, Jin-hyung,” Namjoon offers up. “If you want, we can hang around and wait for Jungkook.”

Jin lets out a light sigh, smiling gratefully. “I figure it’ll be good for us. Hopefully. I just worry about everyone, you know? Just because this is a reality show doesn’t mean we need to be always fighting and throwing drinks in people’s faces and stuff. We need to communicate like adults.”

Yoongi frowns. “You don’t need to take all that burden on yourself, hyung. I’m sure they didn’t teach you to handle this kind of situation in your training.”

Jin goes to reply, but the moment his mouth opens, words are cut off by a dual ding, two phones going off.

You glance over to where Taehyung and Namjoon both instinctively check their phones, faces falling almost simultaneously.

“Oh,” Taehyung says shortly, face falling. “I should’ve remembered.”

“What is it?” Jin asks with knitted brows.

“It’s his stream,” Namjoon explains guiltily, “he normally begins it earlier than this, so he was probably trying to leave so he could start.”

“Why didn’t he just-?” Jin exhales roughly, Yoongi’s hand falling to his shoulder to anchor him. “Whatever. He’s angry now, I guess, let’s just wait for him to finish and once he goes offline someone can text him and ask him to come down. Is everyone fine with that?”

Although no one protests, the air is significantly stiff with tension; Yoongi makes another round of coffees, Taehyung opens the stream and watches it with the volume turned muted, biting at his fingernail. It feels like such a departure from the same time last week, and being tuned in just feels even more invasive than last time.

“The people in the comments aren’t happy about him being late,” Taehyung notes nervously. “He looks upset.”

“I don’t think you should be watching,” Namjoon admits, shifting in his seat as he tries to avoid looking at the screen. “Doesn’t it feel strange to you?”

“I’m just making sure he’s okay,” Taehyung insists hollowly, eyes locked onto it. “He’s trying to touch himself but he’s not getting ha-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Yoongi spits harshly, returning with four cups of coffee balanced precariously in his grip. “Watch it if you want, but respect that we’re choosing not to.”

Taehyung frowns, but doesn’t protest, returning silently to the screen. Alone on your couch, you take a cup of coffee from Yoongi’s outstretched hands and cradle the cup, feeling the warmth seep into your bones, your heart still as cold as if it were frozen in ice.

True to Yoongi’s command, Taehyung stays silent as he watches, and the entire room sits in uncomfortable quiet until, what can only be fifteen or twenty minutes later, Taehyung lets out a defeated sigh and locks his phone, setting it on the arm of the couch.

The implication is clear, and Jin sets his jaw, looking determined albeit regretful. “Okay, can someone text Jungkook? Let’s get this over with. Just remember it’s for the best.”

Though it seems like even Jin himself is unsure of that, everyone waiting in dread as Taehyung sends him a text, and he comes down the stairs a few minutes later, cheeks flexed with irritation.

You fight the urge to reach out to him when he collapses onto the couch beside you, hair messy but clean and in the same casual clothes as earlier. He seems restless and volatile, and you can’t help but wish the lot of you weren’t having this talk now, or wish you could just jump forward in time to when everyone was happy and alright again.

“Go on, then,” Jungkook starts, snapping the silence. His arms are crossed tightly and eyes piercing as they glare at Jin. “Start the group therapy.”

Though he’s been silent for a while now, Jimin lets out a tired groan. “Fucking hell, Jungkook, he’s trying to help you! Seeing you be upset makes us feel terrible.”

Jungkook stiffens, and you can just about feel the heat radiating off his body as he fires up. “Oh, I’m sorry, next time I’ll just be miserable in private!”

Jin looks stricken, rubbing at his temple. “Jungkook, you said you were going to try and seek out the things that made you happy.”

“And you said you weren’t going to reveal what I said to you in confidence,” Jungkook replies shortly, but before Jin can protest, he’s continuing, voice strained. “But- I do want to try and make things better. I’m sorry; I’m really stressed out and it’s frustrating not being able to leave this place. I thought if I got fan favourite I’d at least get a break.”

The rest of you fall silent for a moment. Your eyes sting, so you blink to ease the ache. “We understand. We want you to be happy. Can we all agree to try our best to just stay chill and talk this through?”

As the others nod, Jungkook scoots back like he’s trying to bury himself into the corner of the couch. “But talk what through? Do you not realise how shitty it feels having all of you sitting me down for an intervention right now? I don’t know whether to be offended or humiliated.”

Taehyung’s face crumples violently, like he’s about to cry. Hoseok, unusually solemn, clears his throat lightly as he pats Tae’s back. “JK, it’s not all of us gathering to dunk on you. I for one know that there are things I’d like to get off my chest. Things that bother me and stuff. I think if we all just front up to what we’re struggling with then we can work through these issues together. But it’s gotta be all of us. If we want to be happy here.”

Jin sends Hoseok a grateful look, sitting back in his seat when Jungkook begins nodding. “I can do that,” Jungkook agrees in a small voice. “Just… someone else can start.”

The concept of owning up about your feelings is clearly as paralysing to the others as it is to you. Everyone falls silent, looking around at each other’s faces and waiting for someone else to speak up. A thread of worry niggles in the back of your brain that Taehyung or Jimin would confess your closeness, bursting the bubble that was already so fragile.

In the end, it’s Yoongi that chooses to go first, heaving a great sigh to brace himself. “If I’m perfectly honest,” Yoongi admits, “I’m a little concerned that we’re going to be cornered into conflict no matter how much we avoid it. As nice as the producers are-” he pauses to glare at one of the cameras filming the interaction with an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, “this is a reality show and reality shows are founded on drama. And look how much effort it took to get us to sit down and actually talk to each other? It would’ve been easier in some respects to just get angry and hateful and fight every other day, and I don’t think everyone is as aware of that as hyung and I are.”

Jungkook swallows. “I do worry about that, too,” he reveals. “I mean, not in the same way, but… If we wanted to, we could just all hate each other and only interact when we had to and then never speak again when we all leave. Which is weird because for now, we can’t go anywhere. We’re all gonna be really close and then we’ll just go our separate ways. And I don’t know what to do about it… If that makes sense.”

“But you did that exact same thing to us,” Jimin protests. “If you’re scared of us all acting like strangers then why push us away?”

Jungkook frowns stiffly. “That’s what you did at the start!”

“And it sucked,” Jimin retorts immediately. “It felt awful seeing everyone socialise and feeling like I had to stay out of it to protect myself. That’s why I’m not acting like a dick anymore.”

“Well, that’s up for debate,” Hoseok quips with a scoff.

Jimin sends him a withering glare, but Jungkook pays no mind to Hoseok’s remark, eyes still on the blue-haired man. “Everyone else was ignoring me anyway!” His voice is brittle, powered only by his frustration, and it feels like a pot ready to boil over. “Yoongi and Jin always do their own thing in the kitchen and never like me helping out, Namjoon and Hoseok have their whole teacher-student thing going on, and the only people my age are so up each other’s asses that they don’t even look at me half the time! Y/n has six other guys to sleep with so it’s not like I can even hang out with her that much. Everyone’s paired up and left me out of it but you all act like you haven’t. And then it’s all, ‘oh, why is Jungkook all grouchy?’ like I’m just making your lives difficult or something.”

Jimin winces. “We never tried to-”

“It doesn’t matter if you didn’t try to, you did! You and Tae fucking drool over each other all day long and even when I try and- and- talk to either of you, it’s clear that you’re just thinking about the other person.” Jungkook stands suddenly, whirling around to face Taehyung. “I thought that day in the confessional shed, Tae, when you said it wasn’t just Y/n… I thought you were talking about me. I thought we were having a moment, you know, and then it turns out it was just Jimin. It’s always Jimin.”

“Come on, that’s not fair,” Jimin cuts in, “he can’t help his feelings.”

Taehyung sends Jimin a confused look hastily before turning back to Jungkook. “Kookie, I’m really sorry. I don’t want to exclude you anymore. I’ll do better.”

“You shouldn’t have to apologise, Tae,” Jin pipes up tiredly, and a strangled cry comes from Jungkook’s throat, the boy almost hysterical.

“Why do you want so badly for no one to be on my side, Seokjin?”

“God, it isn’t about that-”

Jungkook seems borderline hysterical, bottom lip trembling violently as he points at the eldest. “Well, what is it about? You act so fucking high and mighty, Jin, yet you’re in the same fucking situation as me.”

Your eyes widen as Jungkook turns to you, knees almost bumping yours with how close he’s standing. Behind him, Jin makes a low noise of warning. “Don’t, Jungkook…”

Jungkook’s eyes are wild, two points of red on his cheeks. “Jin has feelings for you but he won’t say anything because he thinks you just see it as sex. And he has the fucking audacity to try and give me advice on my feelings for-”

“Jeon Jungkook!” Jin bellows, standing too. Beside him, Yoongi tugs at his wrist, but the eldest shakes it off. “You have no right to-

You’ve had enough of sitting silently, wincing at Jin’s volume, the therapist so far from the pillar of emotional stability he usually was. “Just let him get it out, Jin, he’s frustrated.”

Jungkook scoffs even as Jin shakes his head in disapproval. “Are you serious?” Jungkook asks you incredulously. “I tell you Jin has feelings for you and you’re still trying to suck up to me?”

You reel back, brows knitted. “I’m defending you, Jungkook.”

“I don’t want you to fucking defend me, Y/n, I’ve had enough of you leading everyone on and then not returning anything. You have all the power here and you just toy with us and act all innocent.”

“What are you talking about?” you cry, throat aching with the effort it takes to keep your voice steady.

Jungkook’s eyes gleam, unshed tears reflecting the light. “Jin-hyung tries to be romantic and you tell him it’s just a scene to you, instead of just doing Namjoon’s prompt you take his virginity like it’s a 90s romcom, making it “special” for him. You want every one of us to fall for you so that you can get fawned over by seven hot guys, but you aren’t willing to take any of the responsibility that comes with it. You act like things are so hard for you having to choose, but you’re breaking our fucking hearts doing it!”

You open your mouth to retort, but a crashing wave of guilt overtakes you, and your cheeks are wet before you even realise you’re crying. Intentional or not, you rue all the times you complained about elimination, knowing that the guys must have been feeling so much worse. “I’m so sorry, Kook,” you make out, covering your nose and mouth with a hand to try and contain yourself.

From the other side of the room, it’s Namjoon that speaks up next, voice flat and reserved. It’s a stark contrast to the fire in Jungkook’s voice, but he looks no less affected by everything. “That’s not fair at all,” he says shortly, “Y/n isn’t in charge of our feelings any more than we are, and you don’t have any right to judge her for what I chose. I was the one who wanted my first time to be special, Kook.”

Namjoon’s low volume seems to influence Jungkook, taking his noise level down a notch. The words just hurt more. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here then, Namjoon. This isn’t where you come to have your cherry popped by a nice, young lady you can bring home to your parents.”

“Oh, my god,” Hoseok exclaims with a groan, “are we seriously just complaining about everyone now? Is that what this is? Good going, Jin, really fucking helpful.”

A whirl of dread rushes through you as the anger continues to flit around the room in an ugly cloud, everyone having a bone to pick with each other. Jin makes a noise of outrage, hissing back at Hoseok when he speaks. “I don’t see you coming up with any suggestions. Do any of you have any fucking idea how hard it is to have everyone expecting you to magically solve their problems and shoulder their burdens and not a single one of them gives a shit about you?”

“That isn’t true,” you protest, immediately regretting drawing attention back to yourself.

Jin scoffs. “You haven’t said a fucking thing since finding out I have feelings for you. Wait, no; you haven’t said a fucking thing since I got upset with you on Tuesday. Did you really never think to ask even once how I was doing?”

Your excuse feels flat even before you say it. “I was waiting for you to-”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner!” he sings sarcastically. “Everybody waits for me to solve things and then complains when it’s not helpful enough,” Jin spits, glaring at Hoseok with the last few words.

A shuddering sob cuts into the silence that follow his words, and in unison you all turn to Taehyung, who has his face buried in Hoseok’s shoulder, Namjoon rubbing his back as his shoulders heave.

Jimin sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, body twitching as he fights the urge to rush over, and instead raises his voice to address the room. “Alright; show’s over. This isn’t solving anything.”

“Why should you decide?” Jungkook cuts in immediately. “I’m miserable and you don’t care, Jin’s miserable and you don’t care, but the second it’s Taehyung…!”

Jimin rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “Why are you so bothered by it?”

Jungkook lets out a cry of frustration that sounds closer to a sob. “Because you’re taking him away from me! I can’t compete with you! Everybody’s obsessed with you, everybody wants your approval and you just drink it up, you narcissistic, selfish piece of shit!”

Around the room, everyone sucks in a wary breath, but Jimin’s already standing, features sharpened in anger. “Why are you acting like it’s my fault he has feelings for me? Maybe he doesn’t like you because you’re a whiny fucking brat who takes everything personally.”

“That isn’t true,” Taehyung hiccups out, “Jungkookie’s nice, Min. And you’re not selfish.”

Though the tension in the room just keeps rising and rising, you can see, behind Jimin’s standing figure, Yoongi sitting stiffly on the couch. He keeps glaring at the cameras expectantly, with one hand clutching his phone and the other latched onto Jin’s wrist, keeping him from interfering further. The two exchange words quietly, shaking their heads in disapproval.

On the more emotional side of the room, Hoseok holds Taehyung closely, soothing him as Namjoon looks up hesitantly at the others. “I really think we should stop, guys…”

“Let’s all take a chill pill,” Hoseok quips as Taehyung’s tears stain his shirt.

Jimin lets out a noise of disgust. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Hoseok.”

“Is no one gonna stop this?” Namjoon asks hesitantly, glancing up at the cameras.

“What did I say?” Yoongi retorts rhetorically. “They aren’t going to interfere. They know this drama gives their show more views.”

“Good for Jimin,” Jungkook states petulantly, “the more views he gets, the better he feels.”

“Coming from you,” Jimin says over the sound of Yoongi clicking his tongue in exasperation. “Maybe the reason you hate me so much is because you and I are the exact same, Jungkook, I just do it better.”

“Again with your superiority complex,” Jungkook huffs. “How long until everyone here gets sick of you, Jimin? How long until the novelty wears off and you’re left alone on your high horse again, huh?”

Jimin flinches like he’s been hit, but takes an accusing step closer to Jungkook. Around them, everyone shrinks back in their seats, Hoseok shielding Taehyung’s ears and Yoongi and Jin with a phone sandwiched between their cheeks as they make a call. Namjoon’s begun to cry, too, but he hides his running nose with a sleeve, eyes wide and shining as they watch Jimin and Jungkook square off.

The two of them are a few steps apart, now, not even the coffee table dividing them. Jimin, although physically smaller than Jungkook, appears to tower over the other as his face darkens. “At least I’m good at my job, Jungkook. Why did you come down so soon? Blow your load too quickly like an amateur?” When it doesn’t gain any more reaction than Jungkook’s face twitching in annoyance, Jimin grins wickedly. “Or could baby not even get it up, huh? Take your dick away, you’re not much of anything, are you?”

Jungkook lunges before Jimin is even done speaking.

The thud of impact and grunt of rage from the youngest echoes through the room sickly as Jimin reels back, clutching at his nose. Already you can see the intense scarlet pooling between his fingers, dripping down as his eyes tear up with anger and pain.

The urge to jump in, do something, almost overwhelms you, but you feel yourself paralysed, shocked and barely able to process anything like it’s a bad nightmare.

On one side of Jungkook and Jimin, Taehyung wails, struggling in Hoseok and Namjoon’s hold as the two of them keep him from interfering. On the other side, Yoongi stands up in alarm, keeping his voice calm as he splays his palms. “Woah, woah, that’s enough now-”

Jimin pulls his hands away, spitting out the blood in his mouth even as more streams to fill out. “You little fucker,” he hisses. “If you broke my nose, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh. “Take your face away, you’re not much of anything, right?” he mocks.

Sensing things turning for the worst, Yoongi widens his eyes and jumps forward, but his hands just catch on empty air. Jimin’s already launched himself forward, taking Jungkook off-guard as he shoves him with balled fists, using the full weight of his body to send the other tripping backwards.

Jungkook curses when he lands harshly on the coffee table, empty and half-full cups of coffee flung off, some smashing directly under him. He rolls off, instinctively curling his body away from Jimin.

Passing Taehyung over to Namjoon, Hoseok leaps up to tug Jimin back as the man continues to step closer to Jungkook’s prone body. The moment he gets a hand on Jimin, however, he’s met with an elbow to the cheek, stumbling back from the impact.

For a moment, everyone goes silent. Jimin stares wide-eyed at the red mark quickly blooming on Hoseok’s cheekbone, the dom looking shocked as he rubs at it.

That second of inaction is all it takes for Jin and Yoongi to descend on Jimin at the same time, an arm firmly grasped by each man as they drag him backwards. Jimin doesn’t even fight it, though, a strange clarity and sorrow in his eyes, even brighter than the red that’s beginning to drip down to his shirt.

When Sejin bursts in and rushes over to Jungkook, it’s too late to really solve anything. The combative atmosphere has dissolved into the sick, defeated aftermath of Jimin and Jungkook’s physical alteration.

Still, he directs Jin and Yoongi to take Jimin upstairs to ‘cool off’, crouching beside Jungkook and making sure he’s okay before he tugs the boy gently up. As he leads the youngest in the opposite direction, towards the front door, Jungkook twists in his grip, trying to look back towards the group.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he wails, “please don’t hate me, I’m so so sorry!” Jungkook babbles on almost incoherently, feet stumbling as Sejin tries to shush him, pulling him out the door.

The moment the door clicks shut, it’s like the emotions of the past hour or so hit everyone at once. Namjoon has joined Taehyung in crying, Hoseok trying to rub their backs at once with a pained face, his cheek beginning to swell slightly.

With your shoulders and chest heaving violently as you sob - the silent tears finally finding their voice - you blink away your blurry vision and heave yourself off the couch. The three of them accept you with open, albeit shaky arms, and without any care about exposing your relationship, you wind your arms around Taehyung’s waist and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“Do you think they’re okay?” Namjoon asks in a small voice, fiddling with the damp sleeve of his shirt.

As if to answer his question, you hear hurried stomps, followed by Jimin bursting briefly into your line of sight, rushing down the stairs and out the front door without even a second glance.

Even the split-second view of him you got sparks worry in your chest. He’d clearly made a minimal attempt to wipe away most of the blood, but there were still dried smears below his nostrils and down his neck, and the shirt he’s wearing looks like something out of a horror movie, likely the material he used to clean himself up.

Jin and Yoongi follow down, but not fast enough, the blue-haired man long gone by then. The two of them seem hollowed, clearly taking this on as their own burden, as their fault - especially Jin, who’s knitting his brows harshly to stop his own tears.

Taehyung’s straightening up immediately, wrapped up in the middle of the three of you on the couch as he calls out to the older men. “What did he say? Is he okay? It’s not broken, is it? His nose?”

“Tae, easy,” Jin soothes, voice thick with emotion. “Yoongi took a look at it, it’s not broken, just tender. Jungkook sure does know how to swing a punch, though. Jimin was lucky.”

“Lucky,” the masseuse repeats weakly. “I don’t know if anything about this was lucky, hyung.”

“Can we even come back from this?” Namjoon asks slowly. “If we couldn’t talk like adults without fighting, then surely we’re doomed to just-”

“Nobody is doomed,” Jin assures. “If I’m perfectly honest, it seems like Jungkook was so wound up that there was nowhere for him to go except this. He probably just needed to totally vent and get it all out. I should’ve seen it coming, I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi grimaces, a hand on Jin’s shoulder. “None of this is your fault, hyung. We’re all complicit and we can all learn from this, but let’s not play the blame game. I just hope Jimin and Jungkook don’t entirely despise each other after this. I actually thought the kid liked- Anyway. Best thing we can do now is give them some time.”

You suck in a deep breath. That whole time, you’d just sat there, too shocked or too cowardly to move, you don’t even know which one. And although it’s too late, at least there’s one thing you can do to help, rather than just waiting passively. You gently detangle yourself from Taehyung, Hoseok and Namjoon and get up off the couch.

When Yoongi - the most composed of the bunch - sees you kneel on the carpet, beginning to pick up chips and fragments of the shattered cup, he lets out a noise of concern. “Y/n, you shouldn’t-”

In your haste to help, and your shakiness from crying, it’s no surprise that your fingers are clumsy, grabbing onto a shard too harshly.

You see the blood welling before you feel it, a hot line of pain that opens up across the base of your palm and spills onto the carpet. Dumbly, you just watch it collect in the fibres. You’re sure when the showrunners rented this house, they hadn’t anticipated blood to be the fluid they’d need to be cleaning up. But in just one day, so much had been shed needlessly.

You’d probably sit there forever, numb to your own injury were it not for Yoongi rushing forward, his fingers gently prying away the sharp shard of ceramic, holding your hand so tenderly as he inspects it.

“You’re coming to my bedroom, now. Can you stand?”

Yoongi’s voice feels far away, inconsequential. You hum just to feel your throat vibrate. Letting out a sigh laden with worry, Yoongi lifts you off the floor slowly, waiting to see if you can get your feet back under you.

It seems you can stand, though it takes all of your focus. The others are talking behind you, voices fretting, but they reach your ears like you’re underwater.

It’s less than a second of eternity before you’re blinking away the cotton fog, slowly coming back to your senses.

The first thing you feel is a freezing solid surface against your legs and back. As it seeps into your bones, it wakes you up, and you fight to focus your vision, watching the colours swim sickly.

“…hear me?” The shapes and shades begin to settle like silt on a lakebed, revealing Yoongi’s round face as it crumples in contained concern. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

“I h-hear you, yes,” you slur out, coughing away the remaining thickness in your throat.

“Good, okay, stay with me,” he instructs, crouched in front of you. “What day is it?”

The more you tune back in to your surroundings, you become aware of a second person behind Yoongi. Hoseok’s long legs sprawl gracefully in front of you as he sits on the toilet seat lid, but his head is dipped back onto the tile. He looks totally devoid of any of the positive energy you’re used to seeing on him.

“Everything’s ruined,” you mumble lowly.

Yoongi sucks in a breath and tilts your face back to him, his fingers cold like ice. “I need you to not worry about that for now and stay alert. What day of the week is it?”

“Sunday,” you give after a beat.

“Good, and what’s my name?”

You frown, shifting in his grasp. “I’m not concussed, you know.”

Yoongi huffs, his hands falling from your jaw. “I’m trying to keep you distracted, you brat. What’s my name?”

“Min Yoongi. Doctor Min Yoongi I gue- Wait, why do I need to be- ow!” You automatically try to jerk your hand close to you when a searing, stinging pain explodes your nerves, but an iron grip around your wrist keeps you steady.

Glancing down, you see Yoongi deftly wrapping a bandage around the base of your palm, winding it around your thumb. Below, the burning ache of antiseptic makes you wince. “It hurts,” you whine.

“Unlike poor Hoseok, you did this to yourself,” Yoongi replies shortly.

You pout. “Do you bully all your patients?”

“Only the ones I like.” Clearing his throat with a tinge of pink in his cheeks, Yoongi finishes bandaging your wound. “You’ll live.”

Despite yourself and the events of the past few hours, your lip twitches. “Reassuring.”

Before the doctor can respond, Hoseok lifts his head and blinks down at the two of you balefully. “He hit me,” he breathes in a sullen voice.

“Jimin?” Yoongi begins to pack up his little first aid kit, slumping back against the vanity you’re propped up on. “You got in the way.”

“He didn’t just push me away, he elbowed me right in the face,” Hoseok explains meaningfully. The thought seems to bother him more than you’d expect. “I didn’t think he actually hated me like that.”

“Isn’t that your whole shtick?” you ask tiredly. All of your annoyance, frustration, anger and even your guilt seems to have been sucked away by the chill of the tile, leaving you feeling strangely hollow and detached. “Two sparring doms trying to outdo each other?”

The truth is, Jimin didn’t like to speak or hear about Hoseok, and you hadn’t actually spent that much time with the professional dom to hear his side. Hoseok shrugs with a sigh. “I know he doesn’t like me. And I think he’s an arrogant prick, but I’d never hit him. I thought it was just a bit of fun to play up the rivalry, you know? I guess not to him.”

Yoongi looks grim. “I don’t think it’s wise for us to make any judgements about each other based on any of the events of the past six hours. We all got caught up in it, and I’m sure we’ll be able to forgive and move on.”

Hoseok nibbles at a thumbnail, unassured. “Do you think they’ll send them home for aggression?”

“Who knows?” Yoongi answers honestly. “But hey; you’ll get to be the winner of your rivalry and outlast Jimin. That’s something, isn’t it? You always wanted to.”

A shiver runs up your spine at the despairing look on Hoseok’s face. “Not like this,” are the only three words he makes out before a sob bubbles up his throat. He claps a hand over his mouth, but the dam has burst.

“Hobi,” you coo, shuffling forward on your knees to avoid putting pressure on your injured hand. He lets out a shuddering breath when you take his hand and link in your fingers, providing some physical comfort. “Let’s go downstairs, maybe make some dinner, and wait for Jimin and Jungkook to come back in. We’ll say our sorries and go to bed on a warmer note, yeah?”

Hoseok pauses, bites his lip to cease his tears, and nods shakily. “Yeah, let’s do that. Even if he hates me, I… I want to apologise if I’ve contributed in taking things too far.”

You hum, standing up. Though you wobble for a bit, you feel far more stable than before, and you use your links hands to tug Hoseok to his feet too. “And I want to apologise for not being fairer with you all. But we can’t do anything until Jungkook and Jimin are ready to come back.”

Yoongi pushes himself off the floor with a grunt. “And Hoseok, I’m getting you an icepack for that cheek of yours.”

Though Hoseok protests, five minutes passing sees you in the kitchen, Hoseok slumped at the breakfast bar with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a paper towel pressed to his face. You busy yourself with putting some rice on to cook and Yoongi and Jin work in their usual companionable silence, preparing a basic beef broth.

Both uninjured and not much help in the kitchen, Taehyung and Namjoon occupy their hands and minds with cleaning, following YouTube tutorials on how to get coffee and blood out of the carpet. They haven’t made all that much progress by the time dinner is served, but nobody comments on the dark patches, huddling on two couches in the lounge instead of the dining table. Though no one admits it, you need the extra physical comfort.

As you eat, you find yourself glancing back and forth between the two full bowls waiting on the kitchen countertop, and the front door. “Should someone go out and check on them?” you ask eventually, snapping the silence.

“I texted Sejin asking if they needed any medical attention,” Yoongi offers. “He just said no.”

“Minnie took his phone,” Taehyung said in a low voice. He’s barely touched his food, staring blankly into space. “But he only sent one text saying he was okay and he won’t reply to any of my other ones.”

“We wait,” Jin decides resolutely. “We’ll just sit here and wait for them to come back, and then hopefully we can all agree to put this past us. It was awful, yes, but I think it needed to happen. And hopefully nobody feels like they have anything weighing on their conscience anymore.”

Nobody protests and so, you wait.

The leftovers - god, when was the last time you’d had leftovers in this house? - are wrapped up and put in the fridge, the pots cleaned. As the sky dims, you turn the lights on inside. Nobody dares leave long enough to have a shower, but Taehyung darts upstairs to grab some blankets so that you can tuck up in two groups - Taehyung stays by your side with Hoseok, and the two eldest sandwich Namjoon.

Time passes stiffly, but it does pass. When the sun goes down, there are still only six of you in the house. Everyone’s so emotionally exhausted from the fight, and strung out from the anxiety of listening out for the door, that when it suddenly opens you all jump, Hoseok even cursing as he gets a fright.

The sudden spike of hope in your chest tanks violently when it’s Sejin that rounds the corner, a grim look on his face.

Taehyung frowns, his frame trembling as it leans into you. “Where are they?”

Sejin gestures back the way he came. “They’re in the production van.” Taehyung stands up immediately, but Sejin steps in front of him, hands splayed. “They just want to have some space, Taehyung,” he explains.

“There’s more space in here than there is in the van,” Taehyung protests weakly, even as he settles back down between you and Hoseok. “When are they gonna come back inside? It’s getting late.”

Sejin’s eyes flit around the six of you as he shifts, uncomfortable. “I’ve told them they’re welcome to stay the night there and use my bed. I came in to tell you that I’m going to go home now. Please don’t go out and disturb them. I’ve talked to them, but now they need some time to chat to each other and think about what they’d like to do.” The older man adjusts his glasses and gives you a pained smile. “Try and get some rest.”

A cold bolt of fear runs down your spine. “What they’d like to do?”

Taehyung swallows hard, hands beginning to tremble. “They aren’t going to leave the show, are they?”

Sejin’s mouth opens, closes, opens again. “Please try and get some rest,” he repeats, rather than answering. Taehyung shivers, and you feel the pressure of his forehead on your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist.

The producer turns to leave, making Yoongi frown. “Hey!” he calls sharply. Sejin turns around to face him. “I was meant to be taking Y/n out as my reward for fan favourite.”

You bite your lip anxiously. Truth be told, the thought had slipped your mind, and you don’t fancy leaving the others now, certainly not Taehyung who was clinging to you like a frightened puppy.

Sejin curses under his breath, rubbing his temple. “I’ll call an Uber.”

Yoongi steps back a little like the response surprises him. “No, I- This isn’t really the time, is it? I want to ask if we can do it tomorrow night instead, or something? I’m staying here with my friends tonight. We’re staying together.”

“That’s fine,” Sejin allows, a weak smile gracing his tired features before he gasps. “Oh! That reminds me…” He turns so that he’s addressing the group. “I don’t think anyone is in the emotional headspace for eliminations, so… I’m pushing the Monday meeting to Tuesday. Nine in the morning like usual. Just rest up tomorrow.”

“Good to hear you care now,” Yoongi mutters bitterly.

Sejin winces. “I think we’ve had enough conflict today, Yoongi-”

“Something you could have solved,” the doctor accuses harshly, “if you’d answered my texts or my calls and come down when we were asking you for help. I won’t forget that.”

“It’s done. There’s nothing more for me to do beyond apologising.”

“Which you haven’t done,” Yoongi fires back immediately.

“I’m sorry.” The producer gives a stiff wave of farewell to the group. “My girlfriend is waiting outside. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.”

When Sejin leaves the villa, the group heave out a unanimous sigh of exhaustion. It’s been a long day, but the thought of splitting apart, of being alone with your thoughts, is more than you can bear.

“Could we…” You swallow down the croakiness in your throat as everyone turns to look at you. “Could we maybe all stay down here tonight? Together?”

Namjoon’s eyes soften. “I’d like that. I could grab some blankets?”

Taehyung looks up. “I’ll get pillows.”

One by one, four of you run upstairs, Yoongi and Hoseok wanting to get into some more comfortable clothes for sleeping. Before you do the same, you turn to Jin.

He’s starting to push the coffee table towards the television, leaving more room in the middle of the couches. Stubbornly keeping himself busy.

“Jin,” you call out hesitantly, making him glance up in the midst of straightening the table against the wall. “I want to apologise. For relying on you for everything and not taking responsibility of the situation.”

His eyes soften, a pained smile. “You don’t have to.”

“I do and I am,” you counter, “I’m sorry. And for what it’s worth… Me calling it a scene, I… It wasn’t a grand statement. It was just a slip of the tongue. You mean more to me than just this game, than just sex, and I feel terrible that you’ve gone the whole week thinking that was the case.”

Behind you, you can hear footsteps descending the stairs. Jin glances up, then back at you quickly with a shake of his head. “To be honest, I’ve gotten over it. I’m fine; you don’t have to worry about me. I think it’s better just to keep it about sex.” He makes a vague gesture, indicating the day’s events. “Less messy.”

You blink, not expecting that. Had he gotten over being upset? Or gotten over his feelings for you? “Oh.” But Hoseok and Taehyung are stumbling down the steps, hesitating in the doorway, and you know you can’t dig deeper. For now, you’ll have to just be happy he doesn’t seem to be still bothered by it. “No worries. I’ll- I should go get into some pyjamas.”

That night, none of you really sleep the night. You lie tucked between Yoongi’s reassuring mass on one side, and Taehyung’s comforting warmth on the other, and try to steal whatever moments of respite you can. But a restless night shared with five guys who mean far more to you than they should is far preferable to a night spent alone, and you count your blessings for it. Although you’re all a little broken, you have each other’s support to stop from shattering completely, and hopefully you can stay together long enough to heal.

Chapter Text

You wake to the feeling of fingers in your hair, plush lips pressing against your temple.

Eyes flying open, you suck in a breath to cry out in relief the moment you see Jimin’s face above you, but he quickly covers your mouth, a single finger over his to indicate you should be quiet.

He’s knelt up by your head, and so he appears upside down in your vision. Still, the cocktail of reassurance and concern in your chest brings tears to your eyes. Dried flakes of blood cover the underside of his nose and the skin on top is blooming red and purple, but there’s a strange calmness exuding him in his tender gaze and soft smile.

“Morning,” he whispers, reaching down to ruffle Taehyung’s hair as he curls into your side. “We need to wake Tae. I want to talk to you all before the others get up.”

You knit your brow in confusion, blinking away the last of your restless sleep. “We?” Sitting up gently, Taehyung’s head sliding down your torso to your lap, you glance around the room. It’s still dark, but there’s clearly no sign of the youngest.

Jimin reads your inquiring stare with ease. “I meant you and I. Jungkook’s still in Sejin’s van.”

You suck in a breath, heart hammering. “He’s not leaving, is he?”

Jimin lets out a breathy chuckle. “Jungkook’s in the van calling his roommate to let him know he isn’t moving back in yet. He’s not leaving us, Y/n.”

Your shoulders go lax in pure relief. “Thank god,” you gush, “and he’s okay?”

Jimin nods, face holding none of that icy resentment you saw last night. “We talked a lot. To Sejin, to each other. Jungkookie feels awful, and so do I, but we’ve come to an understanding, you know?” Jimin clears his throat, and leans over, gently rocking Taehyung’s shoulder to wake up. “But I need to make things right with you all, too.”

You nod slowly, worry returning as Taehyung wakes groggily, tearing up at the sight of JImin. While you’d love to assure Jimin that everything was fine, there were still rocks left unturned that you needed to deal with before you could move on.

“You’re here, Minnie?”

Jimin smiles at Taehyung’s look of sleepy disbelief, cupping the younger’s face. “I’m here. I want to talk to you and Y/n; let’s go upstairs.”

Taehyung’s brows furrow, a hand reaching forward to hover in front of Jimin’s face. “Your nose…”

Jimin brushes Taehyung’s hand off with a small smile. “I deserved it. I’ll live. Come on; before the others wake up.”

On your way upstairs, Jimin quietly answers Taehyung’s questions, the same one’s you’d had. The further away from the lounge you are, the less likely you are to wake up the others, but still the sound of water smacking the tiles of the shower in Jimin’s bathroom seems too loud.

Jimin’s shirt is stiff with dried blood on the front, and he winces as he tugs the hem over his head. “I figure we can talk in the shower,” Jimin explains, “we’ll feel better after we clean up.”

You and Taehyung share a curious look, Taehyung still slow from just waking up, but undress obediently.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jimin says emphatically, carelessly discarding his underwear and socks. He waits for the two of you, naked, the streaks of blood and black strokes of his tattoo even starker against his skin with nothing to hide it. “What happened yesterday was awful, yes, and I want to make my apologies to all seven of you, but it made me realise something about us.”

Slipping out of the last of your clothes, you feel your toes go numb from the chilly tile. Jimin glances over the two of you, both undressed, and takes it as time to get in. There’s not much room left once three of you crowd in there, but the spray of the water is a welcome warmth.

“I realised something while we were all fighting,” Jimin repeats. “I can’t stop the others from getting feelings for you. Jin with Y/n, Jungkook with Taehyung. And right now we can’t even act like we’re together in front of the others, and not all of us can be sexually exclusive because of the show. And it’s clear from yesterday that, well… Things are different inside this house. When we can’t leave, when we’re always together. When we don’t have any responsibilities outside of this building.”

Taehyung recoils, his back bumping into the shower rack. “Are you ending things?”

Jimin’s eyes widen, shaking his head hastily. “Of course not- Well, not really.” He tips his head back, letting the strong spray soak his hair and dislodge the blood off his chest. The water is dark pink at his feet, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care, all of his attention firmly on the two of you. “This isn’t a good time for a relationship for any of us. We can’t be committed or open, really, and it’s causing more pain to us.”

Your heart softens in sympathy. “I actually wanted to talk to you both about that too. I… I don’t want to end things, but if I’m honest, I can’t see this working as it is. I mean; how do we draw the line for cheating if we’re on a show where I have to be having sex with five other guys?”

Jimin perks up, relieved at your understanding. “That’s exactly it! And I have an idea,” he trails off when he sees Taehyung’s dejected look. “Pup, what’s wrong?”

“I just-” Taehyung sighs and shrugs, shifting to lean against the glass. “I agree with you both, I just don’t want us to drift apart. It’s hard enough to be close as it is.”

“Oh, Tae,” you coo, reaching out to interlock your fingers. “I don’t think any of us want to drift apart. But what we have now isn’t stable. C’mere.” Taehyung lets you maneuver him as you crack open a container of body wash, beginning to clean him off with a loofah.

Taehyung goes slack, though he continues to hold onto your hand with a needy grip.  “Minnie, what’s your idea?” he asks softly.

“A promise,” Jimin explains hesitantly. “That on the final day, once we all walk out that front door, that the three of us give a relationship a real go. We can be free while we’re in here, do whatever or whoever we want. But when we leave this house, I can tell the world that you’re mine. And that I’m yours.”

You pause the soapy swoops of the loofah on Taehyung’s chest, turning fully to face Jimin. “A promise,” you repeat, the word feeling sweet on your tongue. “Jimin, that sounds perfect.”

Beside you, Taehyung gives a boyish grin, visibly relieved at Jimin’s idea. “Like a blood pact!” He pauses to wince at the stained water that runs in rivulets down Jimin’s chest. “Well, maybe less blood and more pact.”

“I think it’ll be good for us,” you offer up, guiding Taehyung forward into the stream of water to wash the suds off. “But… what about the others that still- that still have feelings for us? What if we start getting close to other people?”

Taehyung gently tugs the loofah out of your hand, and you shiver when you feel the graze of the plastic thread run down your chest. Tae smiles and does it again just to drink in your reaction, before he sobers up. “Would it really be so bad to get close to other people?” he asks softly.

Jimin winces. “It could get messy, pup. Especially if we’re still keeping this on the down-low.”

“It’s already messy,” Taehyung points out with a frown. He hands the sudsy loofah to Jimin, letting his fingers naturally slip into your hair, massaging your scalp. Even as your mind goes hazy with the pleasure of Tae washing your hair, you force yourself to listen to his words too. “Jungkook lost it yesterday because he felt like the rest of us were excluding him, that because I liked you so much that he’d be left alone. That’s fucking awful, Jimin. My heart ached for you too, but it hurt so much to see him that upset over something that doesn’t have to be true. If we’re going to let ourselves be free on this show, then I want to show him that I’m there for him, too. He’s important to me.”

You close your eyes. Behind your lids play images of the hurt on Jin’s face, of Jungkook’s look of betrayal and Namjoon’s tears. Hoseok’s lack of energy, Yoongi’s resignation. Your two boyfriends - boyfriends to-be now? - just as devastated as the rest of them. Every snapshot replayed over and over, making you feel sick. You couldn’t let things get to that point again. “He’s important to me too,” you murmur, Taehyung shifting you so that the water clears away the soap from your hair. “None of us did right by him. I wanna spend some quality time with Jungkookie today and cheer him up a bit. Show him that we do care.”

“I’d like that,” Jimin says. “Him and I talked a lot last night, you know? He’s a pretty smart kid. I’m sure he’s beating himself up right now for losing control like that.”

The two guys finish cleaning themselves up, the water finally running clear as you wring your hair out. Stepping out of the shower to grab a towel, Taehyung sits himself on the edge of the bath, giving you space to get your own towel and start drying off. “Minnie,” he calls out unsurely.

“Yeah, pup?” Jimin says with an easy smile. Taehyung pauses, chewing on the inside of his cheek, making the blue-haired man frown. “What is it, Tae?”

Taehyung looks down, his toes wiggling against the tile floor. “It’s great that you made up with Jungkookie, and I appreciate you talking to us, I really do. But you need to apologise to Hoseok.”

Jimin’s smile falters, a line deepening between his brows. “What do you mean?”

“You elbowed him right in the face, Min,” Taehyung says in exasperation, “you need to say sorry.”

You should bite your tongue, keep Hoseok’s business to himself. But your worry for the dom outweighs that instinct. “Hoseok thinks you really hate him now, Jimin,” you explain slowly. “He thought the two of you were playing up the rivalry for some good drama on the show, but now…”

Taehyung’s eyes are round, glittering. “Do you hate him, Minnie? Hobi-hyung is actually really nice once you get to know him.”

Jimin stiffens up, letting out a sigh as he lets his towel fall, stepping into some boxer briefs. “I just think he’s here for a good time instead of caring about the competition.”

“But do you hate him?” the masseuse presses. Jimin falls silent, getting dressed. Satisfied, Tae begins to dry himself off and dress too. “You at least owe him a conversation,” he finishes.

Jimin swallows, tugs a shirt over his head. “I do,” he admits, “and I’ll apologise.” He pauses with a sigh, eyes darting over Taehyung with a look akin to wonder. “You’re determined to make me a better person, huh?”

“I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for, that’s all,” Taehyung says lowly. “Anyways; the others are probably waking up by now.”

You finish changing quietly, your mind beginning to grow waterlogged with all the conflicts and relationships floating in your mind. Elimination was meant to be about the sex, sure, but things had grown so thorny that you knew that whoever you voted out tomorrow morning would have repercussions in everyone else. If you took out Hoseok like you were going to last week, would it make it more difficult for him and Jimin to smooth out their differences? If you voted out Jungkook, would he just spiral more, already so unstable? You could vote one of the older ones, but age didn’t mean it would hurt less. Yoongi would be so shocked coming off his win. Jin would probably think you were publicly rejecting him. To cut Namjoon off after he was finally finding his feet just seems cruel. And could you possibly vote off one of your boys?

“Are you okay? Y/n?”

You glance up, Jimin and Taehyung by the door, staring back at you. “Oh; are we going?”

Worry flits across their faces. “I just said we should head out,” Jimin explains, “are you alright?”

You push down your worries, taking a deep breath. “Stressed about elimination. At least I have another day to decide.”

Taehyung lets out a low sigh of empathy, stepping back in to link your arms. “Oh, petal,” he croons, leading you out into Jimin’s bedroom. “If you really can’t decide, you could flip a coin for it.”

“Tae,” Jimin chastises, though there’s no bite to his tone.

“I’m serious!” Taehyung insists, reluctantly letting go of you the further away you get from the privacy of Jimin’s room. “I hate seeing Y/n upset. It would be easier if she didn’t have to feel guilty about the decision, you know?”

Your heart sings at Taehyung’s thoughtfulness. “I think I’ll feel guilty either way, but I appreciate it, Tae. If I ask you for a coin, you know why.” He smiles at you, opening his mouth to reply, but your attention is quickly caught by the sight of a hunched figure sneaking in through the front door. You gasp. “Jungkookie?”

He looks a mess; eyes red, hair tangled and clothes wrinkled from a restless night. There are a hundred reasons you should be angry at him. He hit Jimin, he insulted you and everyone else in the house, he made Tae cry. But all you can think of is the devastation on his face when Sejin dragged him out of the room, the way his voice cracked on every apology.

Jungkook barely processes you rushing down the stairs before you’re colliding into him, the air punched out of his chest as you tuck your face against him and wrap your arms around his back tightly.

“Wha-?” Hesitantly, like he’s convinced you’re going to freak, he brings his own arms up, reciprocating the hug. “Y/n?”

You feel tears prick your eyes as you feel the tension leave his body, relief that you weren’t currently hitting or yelling at him. He presses his cheek against the crown of your head and sniffs back a sob, making you tighten your grip. “I’m so sorry, Gukkie,” the nickname leaving your mouth without thought.

He lets out a weak laugh of disbelief. “I’m the one that’s sorry,” he insists, voice still a shocked whisper. “I fucked up so bad, how do you not hate me right now?”

You feel pressure to your left; Taehyung joining the hug, arms around the two of you. “We all fucked up,” he says airily, like it’s of little importance. “What matters now is that we stick together and make sure not to do that ever again. We were so worried about you, you know? Sejin made it seem like you two might leave for good.”

You pull back just enough to take in Jungkook’s face as he gives the two of you a teary smile, before his eyes flit behind you to where Jimin stands. Eyes warming in understanding. “We aren’t leaving.”

You see Jimin’s hand reach out over you to squeeze Jungkook’s shoulder. Stepping closer, he gives the youngest a warm smile. “We should go in to the lounge. Both of us have some apologising to do.”

Jungkook swallows and nods, letting you and Tae go as the four of you make your way inside.

In the lounge blankets and pillows are still strewn over the carpet. While most of the guys are up in the kitchen, moving glumly, Yoongi and Jin are sitting on the floor with their backs against a couch, speaking quietly. They’re the first ones to notice you enter, the rest preoccupied with making breakfast.

Yoongi winces when his eyes land on Jimin, the doctor no doubt concerned about the blooming colour across the bridge of his nose. “Sejin said it’s not broken,” he says as way of greeting.

Jimin shakes his head ruefully.

“Then my sympathy for you is minimal. Come on; we should go to the table for this.”

This is unspoken but clear to all of you. The point where you had to make it right, assess the damages in the aftermath and do what had to be done.

Pulling the chairs out from the table in the space between the kitchen and the lounge, Jimin and Jungkook choose to sit beside each other, Taehyung scooting in close beside Jungkook, the two having stuck close together this whole time. Even in the solemnity of the situation, it warms your heart to see them almost back to their normal selves. Back to the time when they were like partners in crime. With the way Taehyung grins softly at what Jungkook says, the two leaning their heads in conspiratorially, you don’t doubt they’ll be back to their usual ways soon.

The squeak of the chairs has caught the attention of those in the kitchen by now, and Namjoon gasps at the sight of them. “Oh, Jimin!” he exclaims. “What happened to your nose?”

You have no doubt that the question slips out automatically without Namjoon even thinking about it. Jimin laughs, wincing when his nose crinkles. “I don’t know if you recall,” he jibes fondly, “but I got sucker punched in the face last night.”

Jungkook punches him on the shoulder lightly, though his strength still jostles the older man. “Nothing a good face mask can’t fix, hey?”

“I can’t stand you,” Jimin complains with a sigh.

“Thank god you’re sitting down then, hyung.” Jungkook grins cheekily, everyone else stunned into silence. It’s such a far cry from the screaming match last night that it’s hard to wrap your head around it.

As the rest of you sit - you at one end of the table adjacent to Jimin, Yoongi taking the opposite end and Namjoon and Jin following beside him, Hoseok is forced to sit directly across from Jimin. He watches the two of them cautiously, a bluish circle on his right cheek evidence of the altercation last night. Jimin’s smile drops when he sees it.

Yoongi waits for everyone to sit before he clears his throat lightly. As the calmest person yesterday, it doesn’t surprise you to see him speaking up first. “Yesterday was unacceptable,” he says lowly. “But the fault rests on no single person. We all made mistakes, so let’s just front up about it and try and move on. I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen enough pain to last me the show.”

“Can I start?” Jungkook asks softly, as the others nod in response to Yoongi. “I, uh, I have a lot to apologise for. But… I don’t apologise for telling you all how I felt. Because it really sucked feeling like the odd one out. I don’t want your pity now, I just want to be friends again, you know? I want to get close to everyone again and enjoy being here.”

“Oh, Jungkookie,” Taehyung coos, leaning over to rest his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. Instinctively, your eyes find Jimin’s, but instead of looking upset or irritated, he sends the pair a fond smile. No longer was it a bad thing that one of you was sharing affection with one of the other guys. Now you had the freedom to see it as a good thing; it was good that Taehyung cared for Jungkook, it was good that Jungkook was being cared for. Your heart feels full watching Taehyung be so loving of the youngest guy in the house.

Jungkook himself takes a bracing breath, grateful of the contact. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I took things too far. I was so wound up that I couldn’t think straight, and I know I need to work on not getting aggressive. What I did was so, so wrong. Telling Jin’s secret without permission and hitting Jimin? I’m so ashamed of myself. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or your trust but I do selfishly hope you’ll give it to me anyway.” He finishes with a self-deprecating shrug, eyes locked down on his lap.

Jimin reaches over to take Jungkook’s hand in his, patting it. “You know you already have my forgiveness.”

Eyes around the table shift to Jin, who shifts, face impassive. He stays silent for a few moments, jaw working. “I forgive you,” he says finally, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not upset at you for doing what you did.”

“I understand, hyung,” Jungkook replies in a low voice. Before he can speak further, the oldest clears his throat.

“Speaking on that,” Jin states, his face slightly stiff with discomfort, “I need to apologise too. I… At the start of this game, I told you all that my door was always open, that I wanted you to see me as somebody you could come to for advice anytime… I shouldn’t have done that. Of course I want to help you, but it wasn’t wise or healthy for me to commit to that. I’ve struggled a lot in my career with putting my own feelings and wellbeing on the backburner in order to prioritise my clients, and I fell in that hole yet again. I can’t stay objective when my emotions are so clearly compromised, and we saw the consequences of that last night. If I hadn’t have gotten so involved, perhaps I could’ve de-escalated the situation.” He clears his throat, takes a breath, and glances around the room with a small smile. “So with all due respect, I’m resigning as the show’s live-in therapist. Come to me if you wish, but please do it as a friend.”

You return the smile broadly. “I’m really proud of you, Jin, that sounds like a good idea.”

He laughs sheepishly, ears pinkening. “Anyways, that was all I had to say. Anyone else?”

Jimin raises a hand. “I’ll take that up,” he says warmly. “First of all, I want to say sorry to all of you. Jungkookie; I know we talked for a long time last night but I want to say again that I was far too harsh on you, and defensive when I should’ve been sympathetic. Everyone else, I apologise that you had to deal with me like that, being so nasty. It’s easy for me to let my- I don’t want to make excuses,” he says with a grimace, “but my experiences and my time in the porn industry made me a very negative and jaded person for a long time. I’m trying to get better, but I let my efforts slip last night and I’m so fucking sorry. You all have been so patient with me, and I wanna do right by you.”

Across from him, Hoseok listens intently. When it seems Jimin is done speaking, he presses his lips together and looks away.

But then Jimin says his name.

Hoseok glances up with a shocked look as Jimin lets out a regretful sigh. “Listen, me hitting you was so wrong,” Jimin admits plainly. “I wasn’t really thinking, it wasn’t a personal thing at all. But regardless of my intention yesterday, I wanna be really clear now. I think you’re a dipshit and an asshole, and you eat so fucking loudly, but I don’t hate you. I never have.”

Hoseok gapes for a moment or two, lips moving silently. “I- Jimin, I don’t hate you either,” he confesses. “You’re a wanker and too egotistical for your own good, but yeah. I don’t actually hate you either. You’re just fun to wind up, Peaches.”

Taehyung stares between the two of them; Hoseok wearing a self-satisfied but relieved smile as Jimin sputters. “You two should kiss,” he breathes dreamily.

“Tae,” Jimin protests, scandalised, but soon the entire table is joining in cracking up at the two rivals. “Guys!”

The sound of everyone laughing freely suddenly hits you in the chest, and you have to blink quickly to stop from tearing up. You’d missed this more than you even realised. “Can we just- Elimination isn’t until tomorrow now,” you remind everyone, hands wringing, “so can we just enjoy today? Spend it together? Of course not all of us may be over what happened, I don’t know, but I just want to really be with you guys.” You bite your lip as you glance around the fond looks of the guys, none of them sheltering the resentment you probably deserve. “I haven’t treated all of you fairly, and I want to make it right by spending more quality time with you… If you want to.”

Yoongi, who’s been pretty quiet this whole time, winks at you from the opposite end of the table. “I like the sound of that,” he supports with a heartfelt tone, “but if I’m going to be stuck with you jokers for the day, I need some food in me.” He turns to the youngest. “JK, could I request your assistance in the kitchen. I need your G.I. Joe muscles to chop some vegetables for me.”

“I can help?” Jungkook asks hopefully, before getting out of his chair with such enthusiasm that it just about falls to the ground. “I’ll go wash my hands, Chef Min!”

You’re so caught up in watching them banter back and forth, making their way to the pantry, that you don’t notice a whispered message spreading until Jimin leans into your side easily, lips brushing the lobe of your ear.

You jump, making him let out a breathy laugh. “We’re all taking extra special care of the baby today. Pass it on.”

You pull back with a bemused smile. “Is that so?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, but a smile quirks at his lips. “Taehyung’s idea. Are we surprised?”

Your eyes find Taehyung. He’s getting up himself, skipping over to the kitchen insisting that he’s going to help. “Not for a second.” Hoseok is to your left around the corner of the table, and you scoot over, placing a hand on his arm. The dom looks at you with wide eyes when you lean in close, though Jungkook is far enough away in the walk-in pantry that you just speak lowly. “Everyone’s gonna pamper Gukkie today, you in?”

Hoseok’s eyes crinkle prettily, beaming. “I’m game. The kid deserves it.”

You indicate to pass the message on to Namjoon, but Hoseok’s hand flies up to grip your elbow, keeping you close. “Hobi?”

His face is open, eyes pleading. “Spend some time with me today?”

Your heart warms even as guilt runs thinly through your veins. “Of course. We could go pick some board games?”

His beam returns, radiant. “Let’s go.”

As it stands, the one storage closet in the villa is filled with all the equipment you could possibly need. Larger cleaning supplies that didn’t fit in the laundry like a mop and broom, a small stack of games, some spare linen - and, as it seems, the collection of sex toys that the show provided.

Under the stairs, the closet is just big enough for you two to slip inside, you turning on a light and letting out a giggle at the set of drawers that houses the Bangasm collection. Each drawer is labeled with a plastic sticker - insertables, wearables, miscellaneous. Above, hanging on what looks like a coat hook nailed to the wall, are a number of riding crops and flogs.

“Far out,” you muse, “Monopoly and anal plugs, what a clo-oof!” The breath is kicked out of you as Hoseok grips you by the shoulders, whirls you around to face him and pushes you against the wall, his body caging you in. “Hoseok,” you gasp breathlessly.

He leans in, face cast in shadow from the naked bulb dangling behind him. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, lips barely brushing yours.

Your eyes flutter shut. “Fuck, yes it is!” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s pressing his body against you fully, lips moving greedily against yours. You let out a satisfied hum, hand reaching up to anchor yourself, hooked on the nape of his neck.

You fall so fully into the kiss, going lax with every teasing swipe of his tongue that you struggle to keep track of his hands. It feels like they’re everywhere; running up your sides, tugging at your waistband, brushing over your jaw. You don’t come back to clarity until you feel one fisting in your hair, pulling your mouth away from him.

You moan wantonly into the quiet of the closet, but Hoseok tuts at the noise, slipping his thumb into your open mouth. With bleary eyes, you wrap your lips around the digit and suck automatically, making him curse.

“Are you gonna be quiet like a good little girl?” he questions. “Gonna let me fuck that pretty little ass of yours?”

Your eyes widen, making a strangled noise in the back of your throat even as your core aches.

He grins, wolfish. “Surprised? I thought I better give your pussy a rest. You’re lucky I’m so thoughtful, hm? Say, ‘thank you, Sir.’

You open your mouth to pull back, but he keeps the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue. “‘ankoo, thir.”

“That’s it, princess. Turn around now, hands on the wall.” Finally he removes his thumb from your mouth, giving you space to adjust yourself, but you can’t help but miss the feeling of fullness, of having something to suck on. You bite your lip as you crane your neck to glance behind you, but a dull bloom of pain on your ass makes you jump. “Did I say you could turn around?”

You shiver, the aching spot too small to be his hand. “No, sir.” It’s impossible to keep your head forward when you feel cold hands slipping your pants and panties down, letting them sit mid-thigh. You grit your teeth and stare ahead at the lightswitch.

“That’s it,” he repeats again. His voice is low, rhythmic timbre that has your mind smoothing out, giving over to him. “The walls of this closet are thin so you aren’t allowed to make any noises, got it? And keep your face forward.”

“Yes, sir,” you sigh out automatically, feeling a cold square of something run over you. It isn’t solid like plastic, but there’s a stiffness to it that makes your toes curl. The thought of it striking you again, without clothes to dull the impact, has your hips rocking back needily.

His free palm runs over your bared ass, slowly warming to your skin’s natural heat. You relax, sighing, and it’s in that moment of letting your guard down that he strikes you again, the sound echoing thinly in the small room.

You let out a throaty cry and jump away, even as you feel heat gather between your legs at the delicious sting.

“Shh,” Hoseok chastises, his hand now soothing the mark. “Now you know what it feels like. That’s a riding crop, princess. Never felt one of those before?”

Your head falls between your shoulders. You want to turn around so bad, and it makes him chuckle. “No, sir.”

“I’m sure we’ll be getting better acquainted with it,” the dom says airily, before you hear the crack of a plastic lid. The contents are immediately recognisable as the icy coolness of lube is spread down your center, Hoseok’s finger circling the tight muscle of your ass. “Relax for me, princess.”

You do your best to follow his command, willing yourself to go lax. The initial intrusion of his first finger feels so alien, invasive, that you let out a whine. Hoseok punishes the noise with a quick, light swat of the riding crop, and you inhale harshly through your nose, clenching around his finger as it slowly thrusts inside you.

“You’re doing so well for me, princess. I’m going to put in another finger now.”

Even with his warning, the added stretch has you trembling, knees struggling to support your weight. It feels right on the edge of how much you can take, not painful but so overwhelming, and you find yourself desperate for something to ground you. The riding crop… Taking your chance to seek out punishment, you crane your neck back to see him.

He’s not in the outfit you saw on him last Monday, but he’s still wearing mostly black, the only exception being a metallic belt cinched at his waist, glinting in the light from the bulb. The riding crop, one he’s no doubt taken from the coat hook, is an innocuous looking thin black rod with a squarish fold of leather at the end. His fingers grip the end gracefully, and the second he sees you glancing back, they tense and flick it, catching you on the thigh.

It hurts more there, but the pain feels like a warm anchor, and a dopey grin stretches across your face as you turn your head back. “Thank you, sir,” you sigh out happily, the consistent movement of his fingers inside you beginning to feel good.

Hoseok clicks his tongue, bemusement clouding his tone. “Is my princess a little pain slut, hm? I’ll spank you if you need it, baby, but if you turn your head around one more time, you’ll regret it. I don’t appreciate being deliberately disobeyed.”

True to his word, the hits begin to rain down more regularly. Each one stings for no more than a moment, his blows far from bruising, but still the ache has you muffling your moans in your throat, high on it.

So caught up in anticipating where the strip of leather would strike next, you barely even realise he’s moved up to three fingers before he’s slipping them out. Letting out an unbidden whine at the emptiness, you jump when a much sharper stroke lands on the back of your opposite thigh, your knee almost giving out.

Fingers curling on the walls of the closet, you pant out an apology as you listen in to the sound of his buckle and zip. Soon enough, the blunt head of his cock is pressing to your entrance.

Automatically, you tense up, resulting in a quick swat on the top of your ass. “Relax,” Hoseok commands gruffly, punctuating the word with another hit.

You barely manage to keep quiet as he sinks into you, so much deeper than his fingers could ever reach. Biting harshly into your bottom lip, you sink your chest further down, braced fully against the wall.

Hoseok seems to be just as affected as you, grunting as he bottoms out. “Fuck, so tight,” he growls, hands gripping your hips. The rod of the riding crop digs into your hipbone and you miss the feeling of it swatting you, even as your skin feels red hot. You moan out loud, hoping to incite punishment, but he just rocks into you and hisses at the snug fit. “God, taking it so well, princess.”

You moan again as he begins to thrust inside you, this time unintentionally. But still, he’s lost in the feeling of you clenching around him, and lets your breaking of the rule slide. With every slow stroke of his cock, your pussy feels empty, clit needy for contact. But the stretch of him in your ass has drool pooling on your tongue, hips rocking back against him in the hopes for more.

Wary of the thin walls Hoseok mentioned, but craving the sting of the riding crop, you let out quiet cries, even whining his name. The dom just chuckles, continuing his achingly slow speed. “Want something?”

Fuck. “You’re really going to make me beg?” you ask breathlessly. “You said we had to be fast.”

“You’re right.” Without ceremony, Hoseok pulls out of you. The absence causes you to immediately plead, feeling so empty without him. Luckily, your mindless babbling proves his point, and he slips himself back inside with one resolute snap of his hips. “If there’s something you want, you better hurry up and ask nicely, princess.”

You sob, back arching to feel him even deeper, his thrusts far too slow to get you anywhere. “Fuck, please spank me sir, I wanna feel it.”

“Since you said please,” Hoseok quips dryly, before his hips resume their pace, enough for your body to be bounced forward slightly on every upstroke. It’s then that he readies the crop and when he strikes, it’s without mercy.

One hand coming forward to slip his thumb back into your mouth - enough to muffle your cries but leaving sufficient space for you to safeword if you needed it - the other rains down countless hits on your sensitive ass and thighs, the skin on fire as each swat rings out in the small space. Paired with the smooth, constant stimulation inside you, the pain rackets your orgasm closer and closer, making you tremble and suck harshly on his thumb.

“Close, princess?” Hoseok asks with a breathy chuckle, and you nod frantically, moaning around his digit. Suddenly, he slows down to a teasing grind, and you hear the brittle clatter of the riding crop drop to the floor. Ignoring your disappointed cries, he runs his calloused palms over your sore skin. “Oh, look at you,” he coos, “I knew this ass would look perfect after a good spanking. Pretty in pink.”

It’s a trap. You know it’s a trap, but you’re so out of your mind from the edging that you turn around to look anyway.

You can’t even see your ass properly from that angle. The only thing you see is Hoseok’s predatory grin as he reaches the now-free hand out and flicks off the light. “I warned you,” his voice calls out lightly in the pitch darkness.

That brief moment of silence after he speaks is your only respite before he raises your chest so it presses up against the wall and fucks you into oblivion.

Unsure if your eyes are even open or closed, you can’t see a single thing, your heart-rate automatically rising as Hoseok replaces his thumb with two fingers pressing down on your tongue, keeping you steady as he rams you.

If his slow thrusts were mindblowing, the brutal pace of his hips now has you going crazy, unable to process anything other than the overwhelming, inescapable pleasure that runs through you viciously. Your ass stings every time his hips smack against it, and you feel drool running down your chin as you fail to properly suck.

It takes a single swipe of his fingers against your clit for you to jerk into a convulsive orgasm, shuddering and shaking wildly against him as he continues to rut into you without mercy. Even after your hands go tingly and your feet go numb, he continues to rub at the swollen bud, which can barely handle the pleasure it’s been denied for so long.

Too soon, that pleasure turns to pain, and not the fun kind. You sob, trying to wiggle away but the arm low over your hip keeps you in reach as Hoseok chases his own end. “S-suh-sensitive,” you stutter, barely noticing his fingers slipping from your mouth to grip your hip, giving him the leverage to fuck you harder.

“Princess is going to cum again for me,” Hoseok gruffly commands, and you cry, reluctantly turning over to the pleasure of a new orgasm approaching. How he brings you back to the edge so fast is beyond you, but you feel passive to the stimulation that electrifies your every nerve. And when he tells you to cum, you cum.

Like your body can’t handle all the sensations at once, your hearing drops away, your sense of balance or self-awareness. A burst of heat inside you signifies Hoseok’s orgasm, warm palms holding you steady as he lowers you to the floor.

Instead of dusty floorboards, your ass is met with a soft fabric, and you reach out, feeling the telltale smoothness of linen, what feels like a pillowcase. It’s the absurd thought of you leaking cum onto a pillowcase that brings you back from that floaty subspace, an exhausted chuckle bubbling out of your throat.

“You okay?” Hoseok checks in. “I’m going to turn the light back on; it’ll be bright.”

He’s right. The sharp light from the bulb - once seeming wan - stings your eyes, and you wince and shield them. “Fuck, Hoseok, you menace.”

He grins, though his eyes still furrow with worry. “Are you alright? I didn’t go too hard, did I? You responded well to it, so…”

Your eyes slip closed, starbursts behind your lids firing away. Letting your head knock back against the wall of the closet with a hollow thud, you sigh happily. “It was fucking incredible, holy shit.”

Hoseok chuckles, grabbing another pillowcase from the shelves of sheets and blankets. “Use this to clean yourself up if you want. I have something really important I need to ask you.”

You look back up with the serious tone in his voice. Frowning, you gingerly wipe the lube, cum and arousal from between your legs, wincing at the oversensitivity. “What’s up?”

Hoseok sighs slowly, turning away from you. “Pictionary or Charades?”

You have a few hours of innocent fun before things begin to turn.

As it turns out, the nonchalant Jeon Jungkook is a beast at any board game you can drag out from the closet, and he grins toothily every time things turn in his favour. He deciphers Namjoon’s chicken scratch drawing of a dentist that left the rest of you stumped, he seems to avoid every single owned property when you play Monopoly, he manages to come up with a 40-point word on Scrabble, much to everyone’s dismay.

It’s his choice for lunch as the game’s winner - though you suspect Jin was going to let him choose anyway - and so you have the pleasure of watching Jungkook’s cheeks fill with pork, tofu, potatoes, egg. Yoongi doesn’t even complain when he keeps talking through his mouthfuls, just handing the youngest a napkin when he struggles to chew it all.

Even Jimin seems content for the attention to be off him. While you were rendesvousing with Hoseok he must have ducked upstairs to put on some makeup, because he’s perfectly concealed the bruise on his nose, looking fresh and dewy even as he winces occasionally with the ache of it. He spends his time fawning over Jungkook like the rest of you, patting his cheeks and praising him in the games.

In the end, it’s Taehyung’s golden hands that signify the start of something a little less family friendly.

His offer for a massage is perfectly innocuous. Jungkook has a twinge in his shoulder from hitting the coffee table back-first, and then sleeping on the floor in the production van. He jumps at Taehyung’s generous suggestion, asking for the same massage oil as last time.

Whether he remembers it’s the oil that is safe to be used as lube, you don’t know, but by the time Taehyung returns with it, Jungkook is sitting on the couch with no shirt on, grinning eagerly.

Due to the unspoken rule to all be there for Jungkook, the other six of you remain. Or, perhaps, it’s the desire to watch the expressions on Jungkook’s face as Taehyung works away the toxins in his muscles.

Either way, you find yourself tucked between Namjoon and Jimin on one couch; Hoseok, Jin and Yoongi on the other as the two youngest take the middle one.

As the masseuse straddles Jungkook’s bare torso, perched on the back of the couch, you can’t help but be reminded of Jimin’s striptease. How much this felt like a performance just like that one.

Jungkook isn’t flexing, letting himself hunch over slightly to give Tae better access, but his body is still so perfectly proportioned. His abdomen ridged with muscle, his biceps curved to make you drool. As he tilts his head to one side and then the other, spine clicking, his hair brushes on his bare shoulders. You wonder if it’s normally this long, or if he just hasn’t got it cut in a while. You wonder if he likes to have it tugged. It’s the perfect length for it.

“This may feel cold,” Taehyung warns as he runs his palms together, the oil glistening in between. Jungkook sighs out when Tae finally puts his hands on him, spreading the slightly floral-scented oil over his skin.

“Feels nice, hyung,” Jungkook lets out airily, making Taehyung giggle.

“I haven’t even started yet. Stay still.”

Watching Taehyung massage Jungkook almost feels like watching live art. There’s a harmony in the way they unconsciously align their breathing so that their chests rise and fall in unison. A liveliness in the way Jungkook’s lips part and lashes flutter. Even a sensuality in those deep presses of Taehyung’s fingers, Jungkook’s flesh ripping under his touch.

In fact, it’s so enchanting watching those details in their faces and bodies that it takes you a few minutes to realise that Jungkook’s reactions are… perhaps more enthusiastic than the situation warrants.

His eyes are shut, head lolled back against Tae’s thigh as the masseuse begins to run his hands over his sternum, pressing out the tension in his chest. A guttural noise vibrates in his throat every time Taehyung’s fingers wander closer to his nipples, which are tight peaks, his breath shallow but quick.

“Deep breaths, Jungkookie,” Taehyung instructs quietly, guiding his head forward so that he can return to Jungkook’s back. Taehyung balls his hand into a fist, sliding it down the hollow between Jungkook’s spine and shoulder blade. The boy, with his head tipped forward, lets out a moan. Taehyung freezes.

Jungkook hisses, shuffling back to bump against Taehyung’s loosened fist. “Don’t stop, hyung. Feels so good.”

Taehyung’s eyes lift to the rest of you, who watch wide-eyed. He shrugs, silently asking your opinion, and Hoseok just gives a nod. Biting his lip, the masseuse continues.

Each swoop, stroke, and press of Taehyung’s fingers and knuckles wring open-mouthed moans from the shameless boy. Between locks of hair that obscure his face, you can see red cheeks and a satisfied grin. Dropping your gaze, you see the stiff outline that tents his sweatpants.

As you glance around the room, it seems the others are starting to realise too. Namjoon’s shyly hiding his own erection, Yoongi’s eyes are like two black furnaces as they watch the scene unfold. Hoseok, the first one to encourage it, licks his lips as he watches, clearly not satisfied from his time in the closet with you this morning. Your core aches at the reminder.

“A little lower, hyung?” Jungkook asks, his voice almost whiny as he makes his request. His breath hitches audibly as Taehyung begins to massage his lower back, just above his hips. The masseuse has to hunch down just to reach it, but he dutifully relieves the tension there, too. “Ah, thank you, Tae. Taking care of me so good.”

Beside you, Jimin sucks in a light breath, and you do the same. That, paired with his wanton moans and hard-on, is a clear indicator of what exactly he wants, and with the way Taehyung’s eyes widen, he knows it too.

“Do you just want hyung to take care of you, Jungkookie?” Taehyung questions lightly. “Or all of us?”

Jungkook whines at the words alone, his head lifting but eyes staying firmly shut. “All of you,” he admits lowly.

Beside you, Jimin lets out a pleased hum, his fingers winding into your hair. “Do you want to go help out our Jungkookie, little mouse?” He tugs lightly, your head tilting back willingly as he runs a finger over your lips. “Put this pretty little mouth to use?”

Your lips part, Jimin’s finger grazing over your teeth before he pulls away, letting you rise to your feet unsteadily. Patting you on your ass - probably not realising that it was as sensitive as it actually is - he sends you on your way.

The thought that Jimin was asking you to service Jungkook just makes you wetter, and you feel the whole room’s eyes on you as you sink to your knees between Jungkook’s lazily spread legs.

You meet Taehyung’s eyes, the masseuse smoothly running his palms up the expanse of Jungkook’s back before his fingers slip into his hair, guiding it to face down as he whispered in Jungkook’s ear, too quiet for even you to catch it.

Whatever he said makes Jungkook’s eyes fly open, unfocused before they land on you and widen. “Y/n,” he exclaims, groaning when your hand runs over his clothed cock, tracing the outline. “Fuck.”

You grin, remembering the last time you were between his legs. “Do you want my mouth, Gukkie, or my hands?”

He gulps, Taehyung sweetly tucking Jungkook’s hair behind his ear and pressing a kiss to his temple. “C-Can I have both?”

Your grin widens, exposing teeth as you grip him in his pants, making his breath hitch. “That’s very greedy of you,” you chastise, “it’s a good thing we’re treating you today.”

He sighs, lips twitching in a pleased smile once he realises he’s getting what he wants. Taehyung’s fingers run curved lines over Jungkook’s scalp, beginning to massage it as you pull back the waistband of Jungkook’s sweats.

He’s not wearing any underwear - the thought making you consider that perhaps he’d hoped or even planned for something like this to happen - and your mouth waters when you wrap your fingers around him. They don’t quite touch, and he’s not even the thickest cock in the house.

Precum makes his tip glossy, collecting in the small dip right at the top. You run your index finger over it, tapping it to watch the wet strings cling and stretch. Jungkook hisses, brows knitting as he bites down on his lip.

Though his weeping cock is a pretty sight, it isn’t quite enough lubricant to comfortably jerk him off, and so you lean forward, letting your spit drop off your tongue and run down him. He groans as you use it to coat his length, twisting your wrist just slightly under the head. There were many things that were new to you on this show, and so you’re more than ready to take advantage of something you’re well-versed in.

You hear a throat clear behind you; not the kind that seeks attention, but the quiet cough of forced restraint and composure. You can’t pin just who it is from the short sound alone, but the reminder that people are watching inspires you to put on a show.

Under the guise of getting comfortable, you shift on your knees to arch your back more, leaning in to press a kiss to Jungkook’s tip, blinking up at him innocently.

The camboy curses, head falling back into Taehyung’s lap. “You’re gonna kill me,” he moans, “that’s so fucking cute.”

You let out a laugh, Taehyung carding through Jungkook’s hair to break up the tangles he’s made. Jungkook watches you through his lashes, and you smile sweetly. “Is this cute?” Without waiting for an answer, you take a deep breath and wrap your lips around him, bobbing down enough to almost trigger your gag reflex.

His hips jerk as he groans, hands fisting at his sides. You continue to suck him off, tongue running the line of a vein on the underside of his shaft as your hand strokes what you can’t reach.

“So good, Y/n,” Jungkook praises, his hands slipping into your hair as he parts his legs wider. “Tae, ha-harder.”

Taehyung responds in kind, using his fingernails to scratch lightly, making the boy’s back arch. As you blink up through teary eyes, you can see the half-fond, half-aroused look on Tae’s face as he sits on the back of the couch, leaning in close enough that his chin almost reaches Jungkook’s head.

Doubling your efforts, you choose to close your eyes instead and focus on taking him deeper down your throat, swallowing when you feel his tip graze the back of it. With one hand on his base and the other gently rolling his balls, you feel him shiver helplessly, abs flexing.

The black-haired boy is delightfully vocal, and you use his melodic cries to guide you, Taehyung clearly doing the same as he tugs on Jungkook’s hair and massages his scalp. It’s no surprise to you all, then, when his moans suddenly reach a higher pitch and his thighs tense before going completely slack when he spills down the back of your throat.

You pull off him as he continues to pump out cum, the salty tang pooling on your tongue and soaking your lips, just before you swallow, you feel a hand on your shoulder and another pulling your face to the side as lips press against yours.

You let out a muffled squeak, opening your eyes briefly to see that it’s Yoongi who claims your mouth, tongue delving into your mouth and lapping up the last of Jungkook’s cum. You let your eyes flutter shut again and your jaw slacken as he licks up into you, sucking your tongue into his mouth shamelessly.

Above you, Jungkook - still panting from his orgasm - curses at the sight, his hand in your hair moving down to brush your cheek tenderly. “You two- fuck,” he swears, his voice cut off suddenly with a grunt.

You pull away and look up to see Jungkook’s neck arched back as Taehyung holds him there with two hands tugging his locks back as he claims the youngest man’s mouth. You can see glints of teeth as Taehyung nips at Jungkook’s lips, making them bloom dark pink as the camboy whimpers.

“Oh, Taehyung,” a voice calls out, and you don’t have to look over to recognise it as Jimin’s sultry timbre. “My muscles hurt, too. Won’t you give me a massage?”

Taehyung murmurs, pressing one final kiss to the corner of Jungkook’s mouth. “Sorry, Jungkookie, duty calls.”

Poor Jungkook looks like he’s been shocked awake when his head straightens up. With a drooling mouth, tangled hair and hazy eyes, he watches dumbly as Taehyung hops over him and over to Jimin, tugging him off the couch and back to the one Jungkook’s on, guiding him to get down in front of it so Taehyung can sit on the cushions.

As Jimin and Taehyung begin, Yoongi licks his lips and glances up at Jungkook. “Are you done, or do you wanna go again?”

Jungkook chokes, eyes like saucers. “Uh- y-you- I can go again.”

Yoongi raises his brow. “Do you want to?”

The camboy swallows and nods. “I want to. I want all of you.”

It’s Hoseok that comes over to join you first, combing Jungkook’s wild hair with his fingers. “What do you want from us, prince? Want to get fucked?”

Jungkook’s pupils dilate as he bites onto his lip. “Yeah, please. Will you fuck me, Seokie?”

Hoseok beams at the nickname, ruffling his hair fondly. “Can you lie down for me then? On the floor would be easiest, just on your back.”

Jungkook moves hastily with excitement, but as you give him space you can see how his neck cranes awkwardly off the floor to keep watching Hoseok. Shuffling forward, you pat his shoulder, getting him to sit up slightly so that he can rest his head on your lap. He blinks up at you with a toothy grin that you can’t help but return. “Better?” you ask, and he nods sweetly.

It doesn’t take Hoseok long to slip Jungkook’s sweats off, and he’s the first person in the room to be fully naked. Tucking his hands under his knees, he holds himself open for Hoseok, eyes widening when the dom pulls out a small travel-size bottle of lube from his pocket.

You raise your brow at him, recognising the click of the sound from the closet that morning. Hoseok shrugs. “What? Gotta be prepared.”

Jungkook laughs breathily at the quip, but it quickly morphs into a moan as Hoseok sinks a lubed-up finger inside him, straight to the knuckle. He’s softened slightly after his orgasm, but the stimulation quickly begins to plump him up again, his cock heavy on his stomach.

As Hoseok preps him, you glance up and over your shoulder. Behind you, Taehyung’s hands run over Jimin’s now-bare chest. As Jimin sighs in pleasure and arches, the masseuse’s mouth sucks an earlobe into his mouth, nipping at it and tugging at a small silver hoop that adorns it.

Yoongi watches them for a moment, before turning back to the couches, where only Jin and Namjoon remain. Calling them both over, only Jin stands up and joins you, Namjoon still too shy.

Jungkook whines prettily when Jin and Yoongi kneel beside him, caged between them and the couch. By now, Hoseok has already got three fingers inside him, thrusting them so loudly that the sound echoes in the room, the camboy squirming beneath him, fully hard again.

Wordlessly, he reaches out for the two oldest, one hand tugging at Yoongi’s jeans and his mouth falling open, tongue lolling out as he blinks up at Jin.

“Fuck, you’re a sin,” Jin curses, but hurriedly frees himself from his pants, tugging at his cock impatiently. You can barely breathe, the pressure of Jungkook’s cheek on your knee as Jin guides the tip of his dick into the boy’s awaiting mouth.

Brushing the hair back from his face, you watch those doe eyes tear up as Jin groans, hips slowly canting forward. He’s bigger than Jungkook, perhaps not longer but definitely wider, and you don’t envy how Jungkook’s jaw is going to feel after this.

Blindly, the youngest flails for Yoongi’s cock, only settling once the doctor slips his cock out and taps the length of it into Jungkook’s palm, letting him begin to jerk it lazily.

Hoseok waits until the three of them have reached their equilibrium before he begins to sink into Jungkook, keeping his cheeks spread as Jungkook holds one of his legs up and opened wide. You can tell the point that Hoseok’s cock hits his prostate as his back suddenly arches and his hand tightens on Yoongi, making the doctor hiss.

Letting out an apologetic whine, Jungkook drops his jaw wider and speeds his hand, doing his best as Hoseok steadies himself and starts fucking the youngest man.

You almost forget about those behind you until you feel an exploring pressure at your side. Turning, you see Jimin’s hand reaching out for yours. With a warm heart, you interlock your fingers quietly, and turn back. The small stolen intimacy takes your breath away, and you find yourself naturally tuning in to his songbird moans as Taehyung’s massage no doubt turns his body to jelly.

The moment you look back towards the boy in your lap with a bulging cheek and teary, euphoric eyes, you see Jin lean in. His lips join yours chastely, just a single testing kiss before he goes to draw back. Instead of letting him increase the distance, you latch onto his shirt with your free hand, pulling him in to meet your mouth again.

Even with his dick in someone else’s mouth, in the middle of the impromptu orgy - though with the way Jungkook eagerly squirms under the attention of three cocks you’re still not sure it was impromptu - Jin kisses you so sweetly.

With a thumb stroking your jaw, his plush lips claim yours with the patience of a god, every movement tender and thoughtful. It takes your breath away, makes you clench harder on Jimin’s hand and the cotton fabric in your other fist.

Jin’s mouth, the smile that stretches his lips and the moans from Jungkook’s ministrations that slip through, they make you lose track of time. No elimination, no cameras, no tears and bruises. You’re together, all-

Just as you recall Namjoon’s lack of participation, a sharp cry catches your attention, Jin and you parting to look behind.

Cross-legged in front of Jimin, Namjoon watches the younger man with wide eyes as one hand is buried in his pants, the other stretched out to wrap around Jimin’s cock.

With Taehyung rutting against his back as he massages Jimin’s scalp, the pornstar grins sleepily and licks his lips. “T-Tighter, Namjoon,” he pants, moaning again when his command is received.

With wide eyes, you watch Jimin reach down and wrap his own hand around Namjoon’s, the size difference almost comical. He guides the pace, legs parting and head tipping back into Taehyung’s hold.

Suddenly, Jin curses, and you glance back down to see Jungkook staring up at the two of you with pouty eyes, slurping more enthusiastically at Jin’s cock. Further down, Jungkook and Yoongi are helping each other out; the youngest jerks Yoongi off frantically while Yoongi thumbs at his nipples, making him squirm and let out muffled cries around Jin.

At the end, Hoseok watches you all carefully, making sure not to fuck Jungkook too harshly and risk him biting down. He plays lazily with the head of Jungkook’s cock as he gives steady thrusts, too loose to make him cum too soon but enough to keep the precum leaking onto his tensed stomach.

You feel Jin squeezing your shoulder, and you look back to see him eying you. “I could help you,” he offers, grunting as he begins to fuck Jungkook’s mouth in earnest.

Blinking in confusion, it takes you a second to realise what he’s volunteering his help for. Though the sight around you is undeniably erotic, getting to have a break while the others enjoy themselves is more than enough for you. “I’m good,” you decline with a grateful smile, eyes dipping, “though I would love to kiss you some more.”

Even as an endearing grin stretches across his face, he leans back in to claim your lips, no less sensually but certainly more needy as he gets close to orgasm. It’s addictive; feeling him groan into your mouth, teeth catching on your lips and tongue as he begins to lose his composure.

The hand you’re holding, tucked out of sight from the others, begins to tighten sporadically around your fingers, Jimin moans sounding more like pleasured breaths. As seven of you race towards orgasm, it’s him that comes first, the learned pleasure of masturbation mixed with the excitement of someone else’s hand clearly pitching him over the edge. He holds onto your hand for dear life as he rides the high, his loud moans triggering Jin, his hips stuttering and his mouth going still as he shoots his load down Jungkook’s throat.

Jungkook moans and gurgles happily, swallowing down every last drop before Jin pulls out. Mouth free, he rolls back fully onto your lap and gasps down lungfuls of air. The sudden rush of oxygen paired with stronger thrusts from Hoseok send him into a powerful orgasm.

Yoongi pauses his fucking into Jungkook’s fist as the camboy arches, eyes scrunched shut and mouth lax as he gives a loud cry. Drained from his first orgasm, his cum doesn’t shoot out like before, but pools steadily on his stomach, some of it dripping off his side onto the carpet.

Detaching Jungkook’s hand from his cock, Yoongi guides it to run over his own torso, slicked up in off-white before bringing it back. Once Jungkook begins to jerk him off in earnest with a hand covered in his own cum, Yoongi’s a goner.

As the camboy whimpers in overstimulation from Hoseok seeking his own edge, he milks Yoongi through his orgasm, painting Jungkook’s chest and stomach and mixing into the cum that’s already there.

Hoseok curses, hips stuttering, and - like some sort of chain reaction - him, Namjoon and Taehyung reach their ends one after the other. Hoseok with his cock deep inside Jungkook, Namjoon with a hand shoved in his pants and Jimin coquettishly licking the cum off his other, and Taehyung grinding against Jimin, slumping over as he cums in his pants.

In the silence that follows, the only thing you hear is the combined panting of the seven men around you, and Taehyung’s displeased groan as he shifts, a dark patch covering both his pants and the back of Jimin’s shirt.

“Holy fuck,” Hoseok breathes, “why didn’t we do that sooner?”

While some of the others express their agreement, Jungkook sits up with a self-satisfied grin, drips of cum running down to pool at the tops of his thighs. “Good job, team,” he cheers, “we should probably all go take a shower together to clean up. A long, hot shower.”

“You’re a menace,” Yoongi groans fondly. “You just came twice.”

Jungkook looks down at the cum smeared over his chest, then back up at Yoongi with an innocent blink. “Third time lucky?”

Behind you, Namjoon lets out a breathy chuckle. “I can’t turn down a shower,” he says, free from his usual shy demeanour. “But I don’t think I’m ready for a round two of that.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Understandable. Gotta let the dragon rest.”

While Namjoon sputters and then rest of you muffle your laughter, Jungkook nonchalantly stands up and shuffles into the kitchen.

You watch in disbelief as he grabs some paper towels and cleans himself up with a chipper bounce in his step. “Does anyone else feel like we got hoodwinked?”

Jimin rests his head on your shoulder with a sigh, tucking himself away. “Definitely,” he confirms. “At least if I ever want an orgy centred around me, I know how to act.”

Hoseok lets out a good-natured scoff. “You’ll be one short,” he jibes, “I wouldn’t kiss your ass if it was the last one on Earth.”

Jimin shoots him a level glare. “You haven’t earned it yet, princess.”

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both beautiful,” Jin coos smoothly, “and I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a change of clothes and a nice movie to round out this fuckfest.”

“Ooh!” Jungkook cheeps from the kitchen, still strutting around naked like a showpony, even as his eyes glimmer in childlike enthusiasm. “Can we watch Frozen again?”

There isn’t a single person in the room that can say no.

——

“Ready?”

You grin at Yoongi, tightening your coat. “As I’ll ever be.”

Looking unbelievably sharp in a deep blue suit jacket and black wash jeans, the doctor extends his arm to you. “That doesn’t inspire confidence, but I’ll take it.”

Letting your hand curl around his arm, you make your way to the car by his side. He opens the door like a proper gentleman before slipping in on the other side. Without a moment’s hesitation, his hand winds its way into yours as the driver pulls away down the driveway.

“Do I get to find out where we’re going?” you query with a gleeful smile.

“Of course,” Yoongi answers gracefully, glancing down at his phone, “in just over ten minutes.”

You groan with a pout, but you can’t help that smile from peeking out. “Good thing I’m patient.”

“Good thing you’re patient, because I’m doctor!” Yoongi grimaces the second the joke leaves his lips, shaking his head as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. “Fuck, I’m spending too much time with Jin-hyung.”

You shove him playfully. “I’ll sue you, Min Yoongi! That was shameful.”

“Shameful? A harsh critic, you are. Though I’m inclined to agree.”

There’s something hypnotic about the way the neon lights and streetlamps cast glowing patterns on Yoongi’s face as you drive through the streets of Seoul. You’re stuck at a red light now, and even the hellish shade doesn’t mar his soft smile and kind eyes. “You were really good yesterday,” you mumble without thinking.

He glances over to you as the car begins to move. “Hm? Oh, I don’t think so. But thank you.”

“You don’t?” you ask softly.

“People still got hurt,” Yoongi replies simply. He opens his mouth like he’s about to add something, but falls silent. You speak on and off for the rest of the short journey, but stay well away from yesterday’s events.

When the car pulls up on the side of the street, you glance outside. You’ve entered uptown Gangnam, parked in the drop-off zone of what looks like a very fancy restaurant. Yoongi instructing you to dress sharp suddenly made sense. “Out we get,” he says with a final squeeze of your hand, letting it go so that he can leave the car.

Once you exit the vehicle, it indicates and slips smoothly back into the flow of traffic, leaving the two of you alone on the sidewalk. Leading you into the restaurant, Yoongi looks totally at home in the upper class eatery. As you enter through a pair of gleaming glass doors edged in gold and wait in a tasteful entranceway for a server, he straightens his back and smiles in bemusement at your gobsmacked expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he jibes.

You gulp. “Maybe I have,” you utter under your breath, “my bank account just died.”

This is the type of place you’d only ever seen on a movie screen. The kind of place where you’d bump into Julia Roberts in the bathrooms or be served by a devastatingly handsome waiter who called you mademoiselle. Around the room, staff flitted from table to table in penguin tuxes, carting bottles of champagne and platters of lobster to the patrons, every single one dressed in labeled brands, not so much as a single lock of hair out of place in the whole room. As a smiling - and fuck, handsome - waiter approaches, you have the urge to hide your face in shame.

Yoongi just wraps an arm around your waist and leans in. “Who said you were paying?” he murmurs to you before smiling at the suited man. “Table for Min, 8pm.”

With a civil nod, the waiter flicks through a heavy leather-bound tome of bookings. “Ah, yes, Min booking for two, table thirty… seven.” He trails off, customer service smile faltering as he looks over at said table, and at the older couple that’s enjoying a glass of wine and some prosciutto at it. “Oh! Let me just…” With a hard swallow, he flicks through the book again, sucking in a breath with a concerned look. “My deepest apologies, sir, it seems like the table has been double-booked. When did you book in?”

Yoongi gives the man a strained smile. “First thing this morning.”

Your eyes lift in surprise. The waiter seems even more shocked than you, clearing his throat politely. “Uh… Forgive me, sir, but this restaurant is fully booked three to four months in advance. Who accepted your booking?”

Instead of blushing or huffing, Yoongi instead clicks his tongue at himself with an exasperated laugh. “My older brother owns the restaurant. Min Geum-jae. Must have set me up, the prick.”

You glance up at Yoongi in shock, but he doesn’t react, simply tightening his arm around your waist to keep you close.

The waiter’s eyes widen in recognition, before he coughs nervously. “Uh, I doubt that was it, sir. The Lees pay a premium to book table thirty-seven out every night. They usually come in much earlier, he probably thought it would be free by then. We can fit you in but, uh, it may be a while. They tend to pick our five-course meal.”

Yoongi runs his tongue along his teeth as he sighs. “Okay, that’s fine. We’ll go elsewhere; I appreciate your help.”

The waiter gives an apologetic bow. “I’m very sorry about the inconvenience, sir, I wish the two of you a pleasant evening.”

The air feels sharper outside, a northerly wind cutting through the fabric of your coat even as warmth radiates off Yoongi’s body. “Just our luck,” he bemoans, but you’re less than concerned about the restaurant.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,” you chime, “certainly not a hotshot restaurant owner.”

“You never asked,” Yoongi points out, before wincing at how it sounds. “Sorry, that came off poorly. I guess it never really came up. And it would have been a cool surprise getting waited on like royalty from table thirty-fucking-seven.”

You poke him in the side playfully, grinning as he pouts. “Listen, I know a place around here that may just have a table free.”

“On such short notice?” Yoongi asks dubiously. You just grin, holding your arm out for him to take.

“We look like idiots,” Yoongi mutters petulantly for the thirtieth time.

You shrug. “Better overdressed than underdressed.”

The doctor miserably dips his Chicken McNugget in a puddle of sweet and sour sauce. “You know, half an hour ago I would have agreed with you.”

“Come on,” you cheer warmly, leaning over to steal some of his fries, yours already long gone. “We can still have a good time. We’re out away from the stresses of the villa, we’re spending some quality time together. Your Frozen Coke hasn’t even melted because the air-cons are blasting so much. Look on the bright side.”

Looking undeniably out-of-place in his expensive blazer and perfectly styled hair, Yoongi levels an accusatory chicken nugget at your face. “We could’ve gotten an Uber and gone to an actual restaurant and had something an actual chef produced. Instead, you lead me here. That’s entrapment.”

You tilt your head. “I don’t think it is,” you muse, “and besides. All due respect to your big bro, but I but his meals were way overpriced. Did you see that one lady who ordered something and the waiter set it on fire? I bet that ran her up at least sixty thousand won. Maybe even eighty.”

“That’s the thing,” Yoongi whines miserably, stuffing half a nugget in each cheek. “Jae-hyung tells the waiters not to charge me. Friends and family benefit, you know, since I don’t come visit often. You’ve actually put me more out of pocket by taking me to McDonalds. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

You grin, reaching out to pinch his cheek. He swats at it with a disgruntled look that’s softened by his reluctant smile. “Cheer up, buttercup,” you chirp. “How about I treat you to a McFlurry, hm? The Oreo one.”

He blinks up at you with round cheeks and even rounder eyes. “That would make me feel better.”

After getting his anger out by viciously mixing the Oreo pieces with the soft serve, you and Yoongi manage to actually have a good time, joking around and feeding each other messy spoonfuls of melting dairy, feeling like two kids sneaking out after prom in your black tie attire.

It’s only once you return from discarding your trash in the bins that Yoongi sobers up, glancing over at you as you slide into the vinyl-upholstered booth. “Hey, Y/n?” he asks you softly.

“Mm?”

“I know Jin-hyung already asked you yesterday, but… Are you any closer to deciding who you vote out tomorrow?”

You flick him a pained smile. “You’re asking me this on our date?”

He furrows his brows, avoiding your gaze. “It’s just- I had such a great time tonight; even when things went wrong, you know, and… If it’s me you’re voting out, I understand, but I’d just like some warning in advance. You know.” He grimaces at the beat of silence that follows. “You don’t have to tell me, of course, it would just be easier to-”

“I don’t think it’ll be you,” you admit in a low voice. He glances up, eyes wide with surprise. “I mean, I haven’t actually decided for sure, but I don’t think I’ll pick you.” You swallow, actually feeling some relief in being able to talk candidly about it without the pressure of the other guys, or the cameras always listening in. “I really don’t know how I’m going to choose. At first, I thought I’ll just pick whoever will take it the best. Who won’t get angry or offended, you know? But then it wouldn’t be about the sex, so I try and think on it and see which of the times I had this week was the- the least best, and leave feelings out of it. But then feelings sometimes make it better. So it’s hard to pick a least best sexual interaction without those feelings. But then if I pick one honestly, with my emotions coming into play, then isn’t it just picking favourites? So I figure I should pick whoever wouldn’t feel like I was picking favourites over them, and I’m right back to where I started. I just didn’t expect the decision to be this hard.”

Yoongi listens to you intently, not saying a word until you finish with a sigh. Resting his elbows on the tabletop, he leans in with a sympathetic look. “Why don’t you run through the pros and cons? It might help talking it through.”

You take a deep breath and nod, heart warming at how much he cares. Perhaps he’s just trying to get insight on the other players, but judging how his eyes swim with emotion, you don’t think that’s the case. “Alright, well… Hoseok was first this week, so I guess I’ll start with him. Pros: he knows what he’s doing, I feel safe with him, I think he helps me push my boundaries and explore new things which is really exciting.” You count them off on your fingers as you go, mind reminiscing on both your time together with Jungkook last Monday, and the illicit closet encounter this morning. “But cons are that he never really talks to me that much, you know? Out of everyone in the house, I know the least about him. Sometimes I wonder if he actually cares about being here.”

Yoongi nods slowly, eyes glinting like he knows something you don’t, but he chooses to stay quiet and let you continue.

“Jin… pros are that he’s so passionate, he seems so mature and giving, and he has a massive-” you cut yourself off and glance around, checking for kids. Luckily at this time of night it’s mostly broke college students and tired businessmen. “Dick,” you finish with a hushed whisper, making Yoongi chuckle with a gummy grin. “And cons. He seems to play it kinda… run of the mill? Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the most wild thing he’s done is take it outdoors, which when your prompt is poolboy, is not really negotiable.” You pause, mouth working but no sound coming out.

Yoongi seems to know exactly what’s on your mind. “And he has feelings for you,” he says softly.

“And he has feelings for me,” you repeat with a sad smile. “Which I can’t work out if it’s a good or a bad thing.”

“It’s probably a good thing if you feel the same way,” Yoongi offers.

You nod shortly. “Well. I can’t work that out either.”

The doctor shrugs. “If you can’t work it out, it’s probably a no.”

It makes sense when he puts it like that, and you hum in agreement. “I guess so. Anyways; I can’t remember who was next. I’ll do Namjoon. Pros are that he’s a fast learner, and so sweet, and once again is very well-endowed. The major con is his lack of experience. He’s cute when he’s shy, but I’ve seen glimpses of him taking control and I just wish he’d have the faith in this own abilities to be like that more.”

“Understandable. What about Jimin?”

You take a deep breath. “Jimin… Jimin is exciting and sexy and a force of nature. He’s a lot kinder than he lets people think, and I feel really comfortable around him.” Frowning, you continue to the negatives. “But he has a real temper, and a superiority complex. I know he doesn’t mean to, but he sometimes makes things uglier than they need to be.”

Yoongi lets out a low whistle. “I’m shocked and a little disappointed that you didn’t mean his ass as a pro.”

You grin. “I thought that was implied?”

“It deserves its own mention,” he insists with a wry grin, before sobering up. “Jungkook?”

You let out a low sigh. “Most of his cons are the same as Jimin’s. That competitive streak, the need to be better than everyone else. Jungkook has so much range though, he seems down for anything, and especially since the rest of you for the most part are so dommy, I really want to play around more with, you know, domming myself.”

“Domming yourself?” Yoongi asks incredulously. “I’d love to see that.”

“No-! I-” You break off with a groan, burying your face in your hands. “You know what I meant! I think it would be fun to be the one in control for a change. I just feel like more than anyone, Jungkook is so game for anything that I wanna keep playing with him.”

Yoongi nods slowly, processing everything. “Our local masseuse is lucky last, then. Unless you want to evaluate me right to my face.”

You wince. “I don’t know about that,” you deflect, “I’ll do Taehyung. Tae is… He’s so insanely affectionate, and giving, and is so ready to dote on everyone in the villa. I feel really relaxed and happy when I’m near him, and he has magical hands which I am definitely not ready to give up.” You chew on the inside of your cheek. The things you worry about with Taehyung aren’t things you can share with Yoongi. Shrugging, you avert your eyes casually. “Tae seems to take everything to heart. He wears his heart on his sleeve but I don’t know if that’s so safe for this competition. I worry about him.”

The doctor lets out a light laugh. “Worried he’ll drop you for Jimin or Jungkook?”

If only you knew. “Worried he’ll get himself hurt,” you explain instead, letting out a long breath to rid your body of the tension beginning to accumulate. “Should we head home? It’s getting late.”

Yoongi slides out of the booth. “Do you feel any closer to your decision?”

“Not at all,” you answer immediately, making him laugh, “but it was still helpful to talk it through.”

“I’ll take it,” Yoongi says with a smile. As you slide your phone out of your pocket to call an Uber, he clears his throat. “I was thinking…”

“That’s a relief.” You squeak as he shoves your shoulder playfully.

“I was thinking that we should bring the kids something. I’m sure Jin made some dinner for everyone, but I bet they’d be so happy to have some junk food for the first time in two weeks. What do you say?”

You beam up at him, at the way he tries to seem nonchalant about his acts of kindness. “I say I better add that to your list of pros.”

“Come on, we better join the queue. My con is impatience.”

As Yoongi gives Jin a call to get the orders in, and you type away in your Notes app, your heart warms at the domesticity of it. At how much you were beginning to feel together again. And from the fond grin on Yoongi’s face as he recites the lengthy order to the cashier, he feels it too.

Chapter Text

The realisation of the decision you have to make hits you like a truck the moment you wake up.

You hadn’t lied to Yoongi last night. Chatting with him about it was helpful, and you’re insanely grateful for his attentiveness and the fact that you can be honest with him about things like that. But it doesn’t mean you’re any closer to knowing who you want to be eliminated.

You’ve barely been awake and coherent for a minute before your phone buzzes noisily on your nightstand. Blinking blearily at the screen, a message from Taehyung lights it up. Bunkroom, please.

He’d sent it two minutes ago, your phone giving you that 2min reminder. It must have been what woke you. Your sleepy fingers manage to type out a quick coming now before you force yourself out from the cosiness of the covers and heading down.

Jimin is already there when you arrive, arms crossed to preserve the warmth of his body and perched on the foot of Taehyung’s bed. The masseuse had picked the two-set of bunks, directly across from the door, and he sits wrapped up in blankets, cross-legged and leaning against the far wall. He pats the mattress with a covered hand and you sit between the two, Jimin naturally scooting up to sandwich you between the two.

“Is this an intervention?” you joke weakly, voice still croaky from sleep.

“Not really.” You feel the pressure of Taehyung’s head on your shoulder. “Do you know who you’re voting out yet?”

You let out a self-deprecating scoff. “I do not.”

Taehyung goes silent for a moment. “Well… I have an idea.”

Jimin turns to face him, clearly just as in the dark as you are. “About who to vote out?”

“Kinda,” Taehyung murmurs. The only light in the room is what sneaks in through the crack of the doorway. You let your eyes slip shut as Taehyung winds his fingers into yours. “I want you to vote out me.”

Both you and Jimin go stiff, protesting at the same time. “Tae…”

“No,” the older man to your left says harshly. “Why would you want that?”

Taehyung seems to similarly shrink away and lean in closer, making himself small. “It would be easier on Y/n,” he states in an equally small voice.

Your eyes snap open even though you can only see grey-scale versions of the boys. “Tae, that’s not how this is meant to be. I’m a big girl; I’ll live.”

“You don’t get it,” Taehyung insists, sitting up and untangling himself from you so he can face you full-on. “I know the decision is hard on you. But it’s really hard on us too, and I realised last night that it’s not because I’m worried about getting voted out, it’s because I hate seeing you so upset. We’ve already made a promise to each other. I’ve seen more of you and shared more with you than most of the other guys, and I just think… You know, fuck the competition. You and Jimin both mean more to me than the game, and so I think I’d be happy to take that hit to make things easier on all of us.” His gaze drops, fingers picking at the thread of the blanket. “And, you know, maybe we’d be able to keep us a secret longer if the others saw you vote me out.”

While you sit stunned into silence, Jimin burst into action, gripping your thigh gently but emphatically. “It should be me, then. You’ve been nothing less than a sweetheart this entire time, Tae, you don’t deserve last place. Let Y/n vote me.”

Taehyung chuckles, no sadness or resentment in his voice. “Nobody would believe that Y/n would vote you out, Minnie,” he quips, his teeth gleaming in the dim room. “You’re too good at what you do.”

“I’ve been an asshole. I got in a fight the other day. I don’t think it’s hard to believe at all.” Taehyung makes a noise of protest in his throat, so Jimin cuts back in before he can voice it. “At least let’s flip a coin for it. Leave it up to chance.”

Your body goes lax against the wall with a silent sob of miserable irony. Just yesterday Taehyung had jauntily suggested you could choose who to vote off with a coin toss, and now he was rifling through his bag for one, to see if he or Jimin would be the one to leave. “I haven’t even said yes,” you point out lowly, “I haven’t said I want this. That I’m happy for one of you to leave.”

Jimin lets out a quiet sigh, his face cast in the warm hallway light as Taehyung opens the door wider to see more. “But would you be happier if you made one of them seventh place? Had them think they’re the worst in the house?”

“At least this way we won’t be offended or mad at you,” Taehyung assures as he returns, running his thumb over the engravings on a 50 won coin. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

They’re waiting for you. You bite down on your tongue and force yourself to think. To picture the faces of the others, of how they might react. Hoseok if he was on the chopping block for the second time in a row. Namjoon if he felt like his inexperience was his downfall. Jungkook thinking the fight yesterday was the nail in his coffin, or Jin seeing your elimination as a rejection of him and his feelings. Yoongi after letting you confide in him only to send him figuratively packing.

You’d have to eliminate them eventually. All but one of the guys on this show would face that goodbye at some point. Was it selfish of you to push it off for one more week?

“You can flip it,” you decide after a moment, your stomach sinking immediately. “Fuck, this sucks. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin’s grip on your thigh squeezes once comfortingly, and Taehyung rubs your shoulder, before he turns to his elder. “Min, heads or tails?”

“Heads,” Jimin picks without hesitation.

Taehyung, however, does hesitate. “Doesn’t heads come up more often?” he questions warily.

Jimin grits his teeth and nods. “It should be me.”

The masseuse frowns, his black curls like a dark halo as he steadies the coin on his thumb. “Whoever’s comes up gets eliminated?”

Jimin nods again. “Flip it, Tae.”

The second he flicks his thumb and the coin rises, you squeeze your eyes shut, not even breathing. Hoping that the moment where both of them are going to stay in could last a little longer.

The two boys go silent. You feel their eyes on you, then their hands, both slipping into yours just seconds apart from each other. Feeling your eyes prickle, you clear your throat. “Who is it?”

Without a word, your right side becomes heavy as Taehyung buries his face into your shoulder, free arm wrapping tightly around your waist.

You begin to cry before you can even think to stop it, leaning back into him as much as you can with both your hands occupied. Opening your eyes, they remain too blurry to really see out of, but you feel the two of them shift, fingers wiping under your cheeks and cupping your jaw.

“Hey, shh, don’t cry, petal,” Taehyung voice croons, smooth like velvet. “It’s okay, we’re okay.”

You sniff shudderingly, detaching your hands from theirs so you can press over your eyes, composing yourself. “Sorry,” you mumble in a thick voice, “I’ll just miss you.”

You blink away the last of your tears so that his face comes into focus, lips curving slightly, eyes swimming with emotion and with tears of his own. “Hey,” he soothes again, “I’m not going anywhere. All this means is that I can’t have sex with you. It’s not like sex is the only valuable thing about you, the only thing I like about you, you know? I can still hold your hand, I can still be beside you, I can still make you smile. I wanna see that pretty smile again, petal.”

Even though you probably look like a mess, and your heart is fizzy with mangled emotion, you can’t fight the smile that stretches across your lips. Taehyung brightens at the sight, praising you softly as you reach out and shove him playfully. “You sap,” you whine petulantly, heart settling nonetheless.

Having let the two of you share that moment together, Jimin finally pitches in, his voice bright and soothing like yuja tea. “Worst case scenario,” he jibes lightly, “you’ll just have to fuck pup with his hands tied and take the punishment.”

Your laugh is watery but it’s genuine. “Ah, Tae, are you gonna put me in some crazy lingerie or something?”

“I don’t have to when you look gorgeous in everything you wear already,” he admits with a fond smile, before it stretches wider, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Lingerie sounds nice though. Good thinking.”

Jimin clears his throat lightly and stands up off the bed, slipping his phone out of his pocket to consult the time. “It’s just gone eight, so you have about an hour. I’ll give you two some privacy, yeah?”

Jimin shuts the door behind him, inadvertently pitching the room back into darkness. Taehyung lets out a breathy giggle, getting up to stumble around for the curtains.

You wince and shield your eyes when the white walls gleam with the brightness of the morning sun.

Taehyung looks more gorgeous in the well-lit room than he did in a dim one, so you will your eyes to quickly adjust, drinking him in. Deep chocolate curls resting on his brow, he shakes them back as he gestures up with a single hand. “We should probably go on the top bunk.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“I don’t wanna get my hair caught on the metal springs on the bottom there,” he explains, leaning forward to wrap his fingers around the network of wire that holds up the mattress of the top bunk just above your head. “I swear I’ve done that so many times in just this one night. It hurts.”

Slipping out dutifully, you climb the few rungs of the ladder to sit atop the bunk, reminded of the last time you stayed here with Namjoon and Hoseok. The mood is so different now, only emphasised by the way Taehyung gently tips you back against the pillow the second he joins you.

“Tae, what are you- Tae,” you gasp, feeling the slight tickle of his hair on your neck as he leans in and pulls the neckline of your sleep shirt over your shoulder, baring the flesh. His lips leave light butterfly kisses over the sensitive skin, making you sigh out at the feeling. “What are you doing, Tae?”

He sits up, braced by his forearms on either side of your head. Like this, his hair casts a shadow over his face, but you can see the insistent fire in his eyes. “I want to touch you, petal,” he confesses, “one last time.”

Your heart is seized with emotion, a lump thickening in your throat. “It won’t be the last last time, Tae.”

“True,” he acquiesces, “but for the rest of our time here I’ll have to see the others with you, our Minnie will be able to still be with you, but you and I won’t be able to do any more than hold hands. Won’t you let me treat you like your deserve before then?”

You nod quickly, breath hitching. “Touch me, Tae.”

This time he doesn’t waste time shifting the fabric to the side. Instead, his large palms slip under the small of your back, guiding you to arch it so he can slip your shirt off entirely, tossing it down all the way to the floor.

You sit up and peer over the edge with a wince, glancing back up at Taehyung. “Please don’t fall over,” you plead in a small voice.

The masseuse grins fondly, taking a peek before moving the other way, towards the wall. “It’s not that high,” he protests softly, even as he props himself up on one elbow, his leg thrown low over your thighs, keeping you locked in close too. His hand lowers to run lightly down your side, making you shiver. “Better?”

You bite your lip and nod. “Better.”

With a slightly bemused hum, Taehyung dips his head and his lips find your skin again, making use of the lack of shirt to trail kisses lower, unhurried even with the very real threat of the deadline hanging over you.

You let out an airy sigh at the intimate way he moves down your shoulder, over your collarbones, to the swell of your chest. Instead of a straight line, every kiss is plotted out in mindless curls and loops, like he wants to cover as much ground as possible.

As his hair tickles your skin, it sends tingles running down your nerves, your nipples peaking as they anticipate his attention. “Tae…” you breathe, giggling when his chaste touches make you shiver.

His voice vibrates slightly against your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he praises, his free arm slipping over to gently grasp your arm, thumb running over the crook of your inner elbow. “So gorgeous, petal.”

His palms are like hot coals against your skin as it breaks out in goosebumps, hair standing on end. It feels like a quiet eternity before his mouth reaches one of your nipples, closing around it with the sudden wet heat of his tongue. You cry out at the unexpected stimulation and jerk, but the weight of his head, leg and arm carefully pinning you against the sheets keep you steady.

Taehyung takes his time worshipping your breasts, sucking your nipple with a wet pop as his hand shifts once more to play with the other. Pausing to lick the pads of his thumb and forefinger, he returns to roll the bud between them, making heat pool in your core.

Part of you feels like pushing his head between your legs, or wrapping your legs around his waist and demanding he fills you, but you don’t want this moment to be over any sooner than it has to be. Instead, your fingers wind into his hair, cradling his head to you as you arch your chest up into that delicious stimulation.

Even as you feel his cock plump up between the layers of clothing that separate you, he doesn’t so much as grind his hips, focussing fully on your pleasure. After what could be mere moments or entire minutes, he swaps over, leaning to the opposite breast to lave his tongue over it, baring the slightest nip of teeth to make you gasp.

It feels like a lazy eternity before his hand moves again, this time running a flat palm between your breasts, down your stomach and slipping under the worn elastic waistband. Wanting to give yourself a little room to breathe under the baggy pants you’d worn to bed, you’d foregone panties, and Taehyung hisses in sharply when his fingers run over your mound and immediately dip into your folds.

Recovering quickly, he begins to massage your hooded clit, using your own wetness to lubricate it for a smoother slide. You let out a throaty moan, legs parting to make more room for his sizeable hand. “Tae,” you pant out again, whimpering when he begins pressing kisses to your stomach.

“Yes, petal?” Taehyung questions sweetly, his movement on your clit so slow that you find yourself rocking your hips against him just for more stimulation.

“Want you to kiss me.”

“I am kissing you,” he counters, lips dragging over your hipbone as he speaks.

You whine. “On the lips, Tae.”

His fingers delve lower, parting your folds. “Which ones?”

Though the thought makes you clench around nothing, you push weakly at his shoulder in protest. “Up here, Tae, wanna kiss you properly.”

He gives in, shifting up to join his swollen lips to yours for the first time since you’d gotten up here. Just as you hook your hand on the nape of his neck and kiss him, he breaches your walls with two slick fingers, making you cry out into his mouth.

Taehyung chuckles, massaging you from the inside, fingers scissoring and curling rather than thrusting. “That feel good, petal?”

You nod shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you put your mind into kissing him properly, tongue running down the seam of his lips so that he parts them for you. He continues to work you open with languid grace, his fingers so long and deft that even the most minimal movements take your breath away.

He may be focused on your pleasure, but he doesn’t seem to be pushing you to orgasm, instead letting you bask in the warmth of your arousal and his steady stimulation. Even as he slips a third finger inside you and uses the base of his palm to rub against your clit, you’re reminded of a massage. The way he draws out the moment so that you can enjoy the experience of it, not just the final result. Your muscles go lax and one of your legs hitch up to spread yourself wider for him, but still his ministrations are so slow that you can’t even hear how obscenely wet you must be.

Still fully clothed, you can feel Taehyung’s hardness against your hip, his leg splayed over one of your thighs to keep you still for him. As your pleasure steadily rises, but that familiar curl in your stomach never tightens, you begin to grow needy. First attempting to rut against his fingers, then nipping at his lip in the hopes of riling him up, you eventually resort to pulling away from him and giving him your best puppy eyes. “Please, Tae, I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes are still blissfully shut from the kiss, and his brows furrow just slightly, hand stilling inside you. “I wanna make this last.”

You bite your lip, pressing a hand to his cheek fondly. “I don’t want to run out of time. We’ll end up being late to the meeting.”

Taehyung sighs, tilting his head to press a kiss to your palm. “Who cares if we’re late?”

Your lip twitches. “Sejin, probably. Do you want him coming up here at one minute past nine, interrupting us?”

The masseuse winces, his fingers slipping out of your wet heat. “You think he’d do that?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna risk it either,” you offer up.

“Fuck.” Taehyung sits up and quickly tugs down your waistband, making you squeal and giggle at his sudden change of pace. “You’re right, shit.”

He strips himself even quicker than he did you, jimmying out of his boxer shorts and tugging his shirt over his head like it’s scalding him. Immediately you feel his erection against your thigh, heavy and wet with precum. Instead of getting back up on top of you, you feel Taehyung’s hand - still sticky from your arousal - pulling your hip up to guide you to lie on your side.

With legs intertwined, he hitches your outer leg over his waist and lines himself up at your entrance. Almost shaking with excitement, you cling to him and hold your breath as he pushes forward, his head entering you slowly but surely.

It’s quiet in the bunkroom, the only sound being your shared breathing, but there’s something so vulnerable and tender in that silence, and you tremble as he bottoms out inside you. The angle you’re both at, lying side by side, makes it feel like he’s deeper than you’ve ever felt before, filling you completely. You picture his cock so far inside you that it presses against your stomach, and the thought makes you tremble.

“Okay?” Taehyung checks in, giving you a moment to adjust.

You nod and lean forward to capture his lips, savouring that familiar embrace. “Ready, Tae,” you confirm, clenching around his girth. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Taehyung lets out an unbidden groan, and just like that his patience is dissolved, rutting up into you with short, staccato thrusts that punch the air right out of you. Your fingers curl, clutching onto him for dear life as your nerves are set alight.

Every rock of his hips grinds his cock into the base of your clit, and you find yourself grinding against him, helplessly seeking out the best angle. “T-Tae, fuck, so good,” you manage to force out, voice wobbling even more than your legs.

His hands are all over you; running over your thighs, stroking your back, gripping your ass to meet every thrust. As you look over to him blearily, that same desperate hunger is evident in his face. You take a few moments to appreciate him. This will be the last time in a while that he’s writhing in carnal bliss because of you, and you fight to memorise every last inch of his face.

His hair is messy from sleep and the roughness of your current predicament, some curling at his temples even as the rest sticks up at odd angles, but on him it looks like some kind of wild halo that just makes him all the more gorgeous. His eyes are clenched shut even as his mouth goes slack. The tiniest gloss of drool gathers in the corner of his lips, which are a swollen pink, contrasting so beautifully with his olive skin. Light moans and exertions fall past those lips like a steady river, rushing louder every time you clench around him.

Unable to hold yourself back any more, you lurch forward, teeth pinching your lip with how eagerly you rejoin yourself to his. His responding whimper is muffled, but the way his thrusts stutter as his hands fly up to cup your face close to him speaks volumes.

The movement of his cock deep inside you isn’t measured, or ruthless, or graceful. It’s seeking pleasure and giving pleasure mindlessly, wishing to be as close as you possibly can for as long as you can, barely even speaking to each other.

His lips are equally uncoordinated as they slant against you, his tongue dipping out thoughtlessly, teeth nipping needily. You lose your mind to this primal moment between the two of you, sense of time fading away as minute details like a drop of sweat rolling down your back take centre stage. All you can focus on are his fingernails lightly pressing into your cheek; the roughness of his leg hair against your calf; the squeaking of the springs beneath you.

You can’t even tell if you’re making any noise yourself, so lost in those divine notes that slip off his tongue. At one point your mouths slide apart and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, focuses on thrusting harder. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, trying to meet those thrusts but every moment your pleasure mounts it just gets harder to make your body obey.

When Taehyung speaks, it’s impossible to tell how much time has passed, if Sejin is waiting outside or if you still have most of the hour. Once he buried himself inside you, you slowly stopped caring about the outside world. Those doors felt like an impenetrable wall that would keep you and him secure for as long as you needed it. His voice comes to you muffled, a tickle on your collarbone. “Wanna feel you cum, petal,” he confesses, voice hoarse. “Are you close?”

You gasp, writhing against him. “Need more, Tae.” You barely manage to finish your sentence before fingers are grinding against your clit, pressing it between the pad of his thumb and his cock. Immediately, heat rushes through you, making your eyes roll back. “Fu-fuck, right there,” you cry, core pulsing with every thrust.

With an added source of pleasure, your orgasm begins to quickly approach, your entire body alight with it. At some point your eyes have fallen shut, and you’ve failed to meet his thrusts, almost entirely unable to think, your mind just overwhelmed with the feeling of his cock moving so deeply inside you.

Taehyung, although similarly delirious with pleasure, seems slightly more put together than you. His hips begin to snap faster, fucking into you without abandon even as the angle prevents him from getting too much momentum. His thumb speeds up, rolling your most sensitive bud over his shaft as it drives into you, and his free hand is trapped between you and the sheets, fingers tangled in your hair.

“Close, so close, gon’cum soon, Tae,” you warn him in a garbled stream when the stimulation begins to surmount what your body can handle. Toes curling, you pant and wait before your orgasm to hit any second, whining every time his length pulls out.

When Taehyung speaks, it’s breathy like a prayer. “Kiss me.”

You have just enough time to seek out his lips before the dam breaks and you’re cumming around him. Still seeking his own end, Taehyung ruts into you and makes out with you messily, groaning into your mouth when you tighten, nerves singing with raw pleasure, an orgasm that never seems to end.

You continue to kiss him as he finally begins to spill inside you, going tense and grinding his hips rather than thrusting. It feels so right, being joined like this with limbs entangled and every breath shared.

It takes you a few moments of coming down from your high to notice the wetness on your cheeks. At first you think you’re crying, overwhelmed from a powerful orgasm, but as you crack your eyes open you see Taehyung pull back, shoulders jerking and a hand clapped over his mouth and nose.

He cries silently, tears soaking the pillow and dripping off his nose, but there’s nothing you can say. It’s just a game, you still have me, we only have to wait a little while, these things wouldn’t bring him any comfort, not when he already knew them. His wasn’t a sadness you had to explain away or solve, it was one he just needed to feel in its entirety.

So, just as quietly as sobs wrack his body, you wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, and hold him close.

He calms down eventually, pressing his cheek against the crown of your head, but the two of you stay like that for every last minute that you have left.

When your phone vibrates, followed quickly by his, you know that your time is up, and you dress in silence.

The meeting starts at 9:12 a.m. You know this, because by the time Taehyung descends the stairs - joining you several minutes later to prevent suspicion - Sejin is wearing a hole in the carpet, informing the group there is a schedule for a reason.

“Can we get started now?” Sejin asks in a snappish tone, before taking in a measured breath, calming himself. “Sorry. Long day.”

“But it’s only nine… thirteen a.m.,” Taehyung supplies helpfully. Sejin doesn’t seem to find it very helpful. “Sorry. Yes, we can start.”

As the masseuse settles himself on a couch beside Jimin, you do your best not to look their way. Sat beside Sejin on the edge of the coffee table, you’re facing the whole group, but there is a strange sense of calm that comes over you when you look at the others. Knowing they’re safe for at least another week.

“Once again,” Sejin announces, knee bumping yours, “the gentlemen have a chance to defend themselves before Y/n makes her decision. Clockwise around the room; Namjoon, we’ll start with you.”

It’s been a pretty rainy morning, a cold front frosting up the windows and making the heatpump slow to act. The academic has himself bundled up in a thick brown sweater and chunky pants, hands slipped between his own thighs for an extra bit of warmth. Somehow, the stocky clothes just make him look smaller. “Y/n,” he begins, “I know I’m never going to be as experienced as the others beside me, but I do really want to keep learning with you, and exploring different things. You make me feel really comfortable and at ease, which is unusual since usually I panic even thinking about kissing someone, and so I’d be really sad if I lost that learning curve that I’m going up with you. I hope you enjoy our time together enough that you’ll let me stay a little longer.”

As he is most days, Hoseok sits beside Namjoon, half-leaning on the taller man. He’s wearing sleek black today; skinny jeans, fitted turtleneck and a cinched waist. Reminiscent of the first two scenes you’d done together, you wonder if he’s wearing those clothes strategically. “My turn? Y/n, if you’re thinking of voting Namjoon out, vote me instead, and if you’re thinking of voting out any of the other guys, good luck to them.” His cheeks lift in a warm smile as you laugh, the humour skimming off some of the tension that weighs the room down. “But on a serious note, I think you and I are extremely sexually compatible, and I take great pleasure in watching you fall apart for me. I want for you to see me as somebody that you can trust to take care of you, but also push you and challenge you. For that, I do hope you choose not to eliminate me.”

You suck in a slow breath. It’s strange hearing them out with no intention of voting them out anyway. Rather than making you feel more indecisive, it reaffirms all the good that you have in this house, that you’re lucky to still retain after the meeting today. You owed Taehyung a massive thank you.

Wedged on the other side of Hoseok is the youngest gentleman. Jungkook has his legs tucked under him, fluffy grey bedsocks peeking out. When Sejin looks at hiim expectantly, he clears his throat. “I actually, um, have a presentation.”

As the rest of the room watches in bewilderment, he hops off the couch and flicks on the television. On the screen, two mirrored selfies of him pouting and winking bracket a message, VOTE FOR JUNGKOOK.

He sucks in a breath suddenly, whirling around to face you. “That should say don’t,” he explains in a rush, “don’t vote for Jungkook.”

Turning back, he crouches beside the cabinet to where a laptop is hooked up to the back of the TV. Changing slides, he straightens up again. A crossfade gives way to a slide which begins with the title, Who Is Jungkook?

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi grumbles, shifting to get himself comfortable on the middle couch he shares with Jin. “Wake me up when it’s my turn.”

Clearing his throat, Jungkook begins to read off the screen. “Who is Jungkook? Successful camboy, avid gamer, budding chef - that’s a picture of me helping hyung cook - and most importantly… Objectively the most attractive guy in the house.”

Even as he hurries to change slides, the other men - namely Jin and Taehyung - protest with cries of outrage and disbelief. Jungkook ignores them, just raising his voice enough to carry over their complaints, waiting for the new slide to bounce in above the previous one. “Why should you save Jungkook?” This time, Jungkook stays crouched, each bullet point having its own slide with a related picture of him. “I will stream with you. I will help cook for you. I will let you play as Widowmaker. I will work out every day so that I stay capable of lifting you easily. I will show you the unflattering pictures I take of the hyungs.” Somehow, Jungkook’s managed to capture a shot of Hoseok mid-yawn, nose scrunched and jaw wide open at the dining table. The man himself lets out an indignant huff, only relaxing once Jungkook switches slides again, a dissolve transition leaving you with a final selfie with Jungkook biting his lip and flicking the camera a peace sign. Jungkook straightens up. “I will give you all these things and more if I’m still in the competition, so please, don’t vote Jungkook.”

Taehyung’s hesitant smattering of applause fills the room as Jungkook switches off the television, sitting himself back down beside Hoseok. Even as he smiles and acts casual about it, you can see his nerves in the way he wrings his hands in his lap. Even if you hadn’t already decided to vote out Tae, there was no way you could’ve voted Jungkook out this week.

Jin is next up, on the couch directly in front of you. His ment is simple. “Vote me out if you think I deserve it. If you genuinely think I’m the worst in the house. I don’t think you do.” The rest of the room falls silent, waiting for him to continue, but he sits back and shuffles Yoongi’s shoulder to indicate his turn.

Sitting up, honey blonde hair disheveled from the back of the couch, Yoongi clears his throat and looks over at you. “You and I spoke last night about the others, about reasons for them to stay in, reasons for them to be voted out. But you didn’t cover me, so here’s mine. Pros: I know my way around the female body in general and, I believe, your body specifically. I’m very willing to give most things a go, I learn fast, and you know that I can keep my head above the water in moments of crisis. I’m a safe person to have in the game.”

You grin. “And your cons?”

Yoongi harrumphs, pouting petulantly. “Well, I’m not going to say them now, am I? I’m trying to promote myself.”

Your bemusement is quick to evaporate when you realise it’s Jimin and Taehyung that are last to defend themselves. Running clockwise, Taehyung is the one who has to speak up now. His eyes dance around the room rather than settling, fingers fiddling with the zipper on his jacket pocket. “Y/n,” he announces, voice so soft and tentative, “I think you and I have a lot of, um, potential together in the bedroom, and, you know, if you keep me in the game, you’ll be able to enjoy the best hands in the business. And I really enjoyed my time with you so much, especially this week. It’s like we have an understanding when we…” Taehyung’s mouth opens, closes. “Uh, so… Don’t vote me out, because you’ll miss out on those things.”

You try not to let the blue cloud in your chest show on your face, staying neutral. You and him both knew you would miss out on those things. That you would miss those things too. Giving a little nod, hyperaware of your reactions, you turn to Jimin.

He’s looking you dead-on, barely moving. “You should vote me out,” he says plainly. “Not…any of the others.” Not Taehyung. “I was a dick the other day, I’ve been an asshole mostly this whole time, and I’m sure the other guys would love it if you did, because they all know I’m the biggest competition. If you ever miss me, I have countless videos online you could watch, or you could watch me fuck one of the guys here. And I’m sure you already have a name in mind, but change it to mine. It should be me.”

Your mouth goes dry, heart racing sickly in your chest. Taehyung’s staring at Jimin with puppy eyes, a silent protest. On the other side of the room, Jungkook lets out a surprised chuckle. “Reverse psychology!” he chirps. “Nice, hyung.”

“So, Y/n,” Sejin asks, voice warm with sympathy, “who’ll it be?”

With eyes stinging, you duck your head, the name on your tongue bitter like battery acid. What you wouldn’t give to throw yourself away instead. “Taehyung.”

The room goes dead quiet. No sighs of relief, expressions of condolence. No announcement from Sejin.

In the two weeks you’d been here, you’d been in this position once before. But that time, exactly one week ago, you’d been subject to a sudden change in events that saved everyone. Now, with Taehyung’s name still hanging in the air like a melancholy ghost, the weight of this decision and its finality sit heavy around the room.

The first cut is the deepest, and as Sejin begins to instruct Taehyung on how to proceed as an eliminated member, you feel like your heart has been sliced in two. The half of you that wants to rush up to him and kiss him silly and take back what you said, and the half that’s filled with an overwhelming relief that you’ve kept the others safe for now.

Taehyung doesn’t look at you much as he leaves. There’s a moment, a single glance, where he gives you a teary smile of approval and comfort. A million words that you can’t say in front of everyone. But then he turns, and he walks out the front door.

Jungkook, who was too shocked into silence to even be listening, straightens up with the wooden thunk of the door closing. “He’s not leaving for good, is he?”

Sejin shakes his head stiffly, before clearing his throat and slipping back into his producer mode. Even as he does so, you can see the elimination upsets him too, his eyes sad. “Taehyung is going around back to the confessional booth for his exit interview. He doesn’t need to be around for prompt distribution, so he’s going to just do it now. Which brings me to this week’s theme.” Sejin pauses for dramatic effect, but it only serves to highlight the sullen mood in the room. “Work hard, play hard.”

You frown in confusion. The first two weeks were easy. Locations, roleplay. You knew what type of thing would be occurring even if you didn’t have the specifics for each member. But this time, you felt totally lost.

Sejin continues. “This week, prompt distribution is also different. Usually, we have you randomly pick a prompt from the bunch. But this time, we have a Bangasm Bomb coming into play. Week 3’s Bangasm Bomb is that whoever won fan favourite in Week 2 will distribute the prompts for Week 3. Yoongi, that’s you.”

Though all of you are a bit reserved, you can’t help but perk up, the interest around the room growing. Yoongi, sat beside Jin but taking up most of the couch, sits up suddenly. “So I give them out randomly, or…?”

“You read all of the prompts and assign them however you choose. Without revealing the prompt to the rest of the group, I ask that you give a reason for each choice.”

Yoongi grins, jumping up in an usual show of liveliness to get the slips of folded paper off Sejin. “I guess I picked the right week to absolutely kill it in the audience vote.” He makes you wait an eternity as he painstakingly opens them all and considers them, eyes dark as they search the room, making little noises of consideration and indecision. Finally, he stands up straight and immediately pockets one.

“A reason, Yoongi,” Sejin reminds.

The doctor blinks. “Because I want it?” Moving to the next one in his pile, he approaches Hoseok first. “Okay, this one is because I think it’s best done by a professional.”

Hoseok takes the slip and holds it close to his chest as he reads, brows lifting. “That’s probably a good idea,” he affirms. “Thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi, clearly gleeful with his position of temporary power, glances at the next slip. “Ooh! Okay, this one is for Jin-hyung because it fits perfectly.”

Jin accepts the slip warily, letting out an exasperated laugh when he reads it. “You little shit.”

Yoongi’s grin is wide enough that you can see his gums. “I love this,” he informs Sejin, “whoever came up with this needs a raise. Anyways; next one.” Opening a fourth piece of paper, he immediately seeks out Namjoon. “I’m giving this to you because I think you’ll get a kick out of it, and I heard through the pipeline that you like to be called daddy.”

Namjoon goes red faster than a changing traffic light, spluttering violently on a lungful of air when he reads the prompt.

Before he has the chance to put it away, Hoseok puts a strong hand on his shoulder and holds him in place so he can quickly sneak a peek of it, collapsing into a peal of laughter when he sees it. “You’re probably right,” he quips to Yoongi, who preens in satisfaction.

“Okay, moving on,” Yoongi continues, “Jungkook, this one’s for you. I figure you’re such a switch that you could play this either way, and I’m curious.”

You furrow your brows, as does Jungkook, but the moment the youngest man reads his prompt, the lines in his face smooth out in realisation. “Thanks, hyung,” he offers up sweetly. “I like this one.”

“I’m sure you do, kid,” the doctor says with a pat of his shoulder, before handing Jimin the final prompt. “And I’m giving you this one because it’s the last one left.”

Jimin scoffs at the weak reasoning, but his eyes dart up to you immediately once he looks at what it says. With a lip curling in bemusement and interest, Jimin thanks Yoongi. “This suits me just fine.”

Done assigning prompts, Yoongi turns to Sejin. “If this show gets greenlit for a second season and you don’t offer me a job, I’ll be personally offended.”

Sejin rolls his eyes with a begrudging smile. “Good job, Yoongi. And meeting adjourned, ev- Wait, no! There’s more; almost forgot.”

You lift your brows, waiting for some other groundbreaking twist or dramatic flair that seemed to keep cropping up during these meetings.

The producer stands himself up, patting his back pocket where his phone rests. “I just had a meeting with the showrunners, and they’re not happy with the punishment for breaking elimination rules. I’ll go tell Taehyung this after, since it mostly concerns him and Y/n, but as an FYI, the protocol around eliminated members has changed a bit.” He takes a breath, hands up and ready to gesture his explanation. “Basically, our old system was that if an eliminated member touched Y/n sexually, he’d be out of the house for good, and if Y/n touched the eliminated member sexually, she had to wear an outfit of that person’s choice. Uh, it seems that second system isn’t really that drastic, and could easily be manipulated, so we’re changing it up upon the showrunners’ request. Now, if the eliminated member touches Y/n sexually, he’ll have to leave as usual, but if Y/n touches him sexually, her punishment has changed to being taken out of the house for 24 hours.”

You tip your head to the side. “That doesn’t sound like a punishment.”

Sejin gives a strained smile. “You’ll be taken out of the house for 24 hours, handcuffed to me.”

“Huh?” Jin asks incredulously. “Bit wish fulfilment isn’t it, big guy?”

The producer has the good grace to blush. “It’s not like that, and it wasn’t my decision. Apparently, the viewers these days are taking more interest in the workings of staff. Additionally, as with the clothing rule, handcuffing Y/n to another member of the house is once again too easy to work around. Anyways, that’s the new rule. Got it?”

You blink. “So… let’s say I run outside right now and touch Tae’s dick. I’d then have to be handcuffed to you for a whole day and like, do producer shit? Meetings and editing and stuff?”

“That is correct.”

“What happens when one of us needs to pee?”

Sejin lets out a weak laugh. “You’d be allowed out of the cuffs to use the bathroom.”

“What happens when it’s nighttime?” you question, heart sinking as you realise your loophole to Tae is quickly closing up.

“Well, I usually go home around 11 each night, and my girlfriend is happy to take the couch should that happen.”

“What- What if-” Your mind whirls as the other guys chuckle at your predicament. “What if I wake up in the middle of the night to get a drink but you’re still sleeping? What if the guys in your meetings ask why you have a young girl handcuffed to you and I have to explain it’s technically a sex thing? What if-”

“All the things that make this a punishment, Y/n. I suggest you practice restraint and avoid breaking the rule.”

Your glare is softened by a petulant pout. “You’re a sadist.”

“This wasn’t my idea, Y/n. It’ll be a punishment for me too.” Sejin clears his throat. “Anyways; meeting adjourned. I’m off to catch Taehyung up.”

The stunned silence lasts no more than ten seconds once Sejin leaves. Jungkook, a toothy grin and cheeky eyes, starts bouncing in his seat. “Y/n and Sejin sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-”

“Shut up,” you shout with a whine. “This sucks.”

“Such a relief you have six other dicks still to choose from,” Yoongi drawls. “I’m sure you’ll live without one.”

Without thinking, you stick your tongue out at him, making him laugh at your antics, before pushing on Jin’s thigh to stand up. “Well,” the doctor announces, “I, for one, could do with a celebratory brunch.”

Jimin frowns. “What are we celebrating?”

Yoongi beams. “Me making you all my little bitch,” he declares, letting out a startled hoot when Jin jumps up to tackle him, manhandling him towards the kitchen.

As the two chefs of the house begin to lug out ingredients from the pantry, Jungkook turns to the rest of the group with a worried frown. “D’you think Tae is gonna be really sad?” he asks in a small voice.

Finally getting up off the hard surface of the coffee table, you make your way over to him, perching yourself on the arm of the couch. “Maybe,” you admit honestly, “but I think if he needs space, he’ll go upstairs, and if he wants comfort, he’ll come back to us. We should let him choose.”

As it turns out, Taehyung chooses both. The kitchen is steaming with a delightfully savoury aroma by the time he comes back in through the front door. He hovers in the entrance to the kitchen and dining area for a moment or two, waiting for the chatter to die down once everyone catches sight of him.

Announcing that he was taking a long shower but that he’d be back down and not to wait up, he’d rushed to his bedroom and left you all to confusedly finish preparing the food. He doesn’t return until you’ve all almost finished eating.

When he does, though, he appears like an entirely different person.

Wearing a raggedy shirt and pants, face red from a hot shower but hair dry, he dumps a white plastic bag on an empty space on the table with a dramatic flair.

Jimin watches him warily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Taehyung chirps easily, “we’re dying our hair today.”

The words out of his mouth are totally unexpected, and everyone freezes into a bewildered silence.

Hoseok, with a spoonful of soup and green onion halfway to his face, falters. “Sorry, what?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Taehyung explains, like this is the most important thing he’s ever said. “I don’t want to be excluded and I want to have some fun with you guys instead of moping, so we’re going to dye our hair together.” Pushing aside empty bowls and half-eaten side dishes, the masseuse begins emptying the plastic bag onto the table. Bleach, developer, blood red dye, an emerald green and a deep royal blue.

“Where did you even get those from?” Jin asks, abandoning his plate to eye the products with interest.

“Ordered them online,” Taehyung answers with a shrug. “Well - technically I ordered them ages ago, Jungkookie wanted the e-girl TikTok hair, but I reckon we should just go for it. Some of us are in urgent need of a dye job. Namjoon; that’s you.”

The academic recoils, tugging at his grown-out faded purple ends. “Okay, that’s fair.”

Hoseok winces. “We don’t all have to dye our hair, do we?”

“‘Course not, hyung, you can supervise.”

It takes Yoongi insisting that everyone help clean up the table first that springs everyone into action, and in no time at all Taehyung has scoffed up whatever leftovers remained, and Jin has gathered additional supplies like bowls, towels and tin foil, hustling your ragtag group of eight down to the first-floor bathroom.

It doesnt take long before a temporary salon has been set up in there. With chairs taken from the kitchen, product being mixed in little black bowls on the sink benchtop, and three willing victims clutching towels over their shoulders.

In the first chair, Namjoon is watching in mild alarm as Jimin mixes bleach and developer in a bowl, eyeballing the measurements. With gleaming blue hair of his own, Jimin seems more experienced than some of you, but his job is more difficult than the other stylists of the day, since he had to get rid of Namjoon’s purple before bleaching and dying the lot.

You’d chosen the easiest of the three, Jungkook, and painstakingly consult with some of his favourite TikToks for the right amount of hair to section out as Taehyung takes charge of mixing his own concoction of bleach.

Finally, it’s Jin who has also volunteered to dye hair, although it’s not his own that he wishes to dye. Yoongi sits with a bitter scowl on his face as Jin pours in different coloured dyes into one bowl like a mad scientist. With already blonde hair, Yoongi at least has the luxury of skipping out the extra step, but it just gives Jin more time to conceive a crazy colour.

Hoseok, happy to take on the supervisor role, flutters around and hypes everyone up; massaging Namjoon’s shoulders, letting Jungkook show him countless videos and grimacing at what Jin has in his bowl.

“Hey, Tae,” Yoongi calls out in a forced casual tone, “why is it that when you were the one who bought the dye, you aren’t the one getting chemicals all over his hair?”

The masseuse shrugs easily, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder as he stirs away. “What can I say? I’m an artist, not a canvas.”

Jungkook blinks up at him past your shoulder. “I’d like to see you dye your hair, Tae. You’d look pretty with any colour.”

Taehyung reaches out to pinch the maknae’s cheek fondly, but accidentally leaves a smear of white behind. Jumping into action, you hold Jungkook’s chin steady as you wipe it off with your thumb, feeling his eyes on you and his breath hitch.

“Oh, you’re not- Y- You’re going straight in there,” Namjoon stutters shakily. Letting go of Jungkook’s face and stepping away, you glance over to Namjoon and Jimin.

The younger man has Namjoon’s hair sectioned with clips, painting thick globs of bleach onto the purple in his lower layers. “Don’t worry,” Jimin assures, “you’ll look fantastic after this.”

“Worst case scenario, you can lop it all off,” Jin points out cheerily.

Yoongi’s arm reaches out between folds of the towel on his shoulders, keeping Jin at bay. “You better not lay a fucking hand on me with that mindset.”

“Don’t be silly, Yoonie,” Jin teases, adding in some more green. “You’re my Mona Lisa.”

Yoongi humphs and collapses back against his chair, pink smattering his cheekbones.

Taehyung’s hand wraps lightly around your wrist, handing you the bleach he’d mixed up. “We’re good to go,” he declares to you and Jungkook, “I wanna go see what colour Yoongi-hyung’s getting. You guys start.”

Left in charge of the bleach, you turn back to Jungkook. Standing over him, it’s impossible to ignore the way his doe-eyes observe your every move. “Are you still good with these two chunks?” you check.

He nods quickly, lips pressing into an eager but shy smile. “Do you think it’ll look good?” he asks hopefully.

“You’ll look gorgeous.” Getting him to hold the bowl of bleach up for you, you dip the brush included in the box and begin to brush the white, thick liquid over the strands of black hair. He doesn’t flinch as the brush moves higher, sitting so still and patient. “What colour are you going to get it?”

His cheeks puff as he blows air into them. “Hm, I don’t know. Tae said maybe pink? I could mix in only a little bit of red so it’s not so strong. But then pink fades fast.”

You hum, switching to the other side. “You could dye it red and then when it fades it would fade to pink.”

He lets out a little gasp. “That’s smart! I like it.”

From down the room, Taehyung’s voice echoes. “Hyung, you’re fucked!”

“Hey!” Jin cries. “It’s going to look good, just trust me on this!”

Taehyung leans his back against the sink and clasps his palms together like he’s praying. “Yoongi-hyung, picture this. You’re Bob Ross. You’re painting a beautiful lake on a sunny day. Blue sky, clear water, lush riverbanks. Can you see it?”

Yoongi frowns. “Sure.”

“The little cup of dirty water you used to clean your brushes with? That’ll be your hair.”

“Oh, god,” Yoongi moans miserably, slumping so low he almost falls off the seat.

“Disrespectful little brat,” Jin enunciates as Taehyung moves back across the room. “This was your idea!”

It takes the entire rest of the day, but by the time you all sit down on the couches for dinner - courtesy of a food delivery app, Yoongi and Jin both too tired to cook - three of the eight of you have shiny new looks.

Jungkook looks undeniably striking with his stripes of firetruck red framing his face. Contrasting sharply with the black of the rest of his hair, you could easily mistake him for a Twitch streamer or something, pulling off the look with a natural coolness.

Done with purple, Namjoon had taken advantage of Jimin’s decent level of expertise and let the blue-haired man work his magic, bleaching his hair a couple of times and dying it to the unusual choice of silvery grey, the roots slightly darker so that - in Jimin’s words - he could get away with regrowth for longer.

But perhaps the biggest surprise of all is Yoongi, who smugly peacocks around the room with a unique shade somewhere between mint and teal in his hair. Jin had quietly confessed to you and Jungkook when he was cleaning his bowl that it wasn’t in fact, the colour he intended it to be, but that what Yoongi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The blue-green tones are somewhat reminiscent of the clear lake Taehyung was describing, and it brings out the soft pink of Yoongi’s lips and his dark lashes so beautifully. How Jin’s luck never seemed to run out, you didn’t know, but part of you wished you had volunteered yourself for a dye job too. Now you, Jin, Hoseok and Taehyung were the leftovers with natural hair.

Like some sort of unspoken agreement, the seven of you keep a close eye on Taehyung throughout the evening. You let him pick a movie for all of you to watch, pile extra food into his bowl, Jungkook even brings a secret stash of chocolate down from his room to share with him. All of you sensitive of how he must be feeling, it’s only natural that you take extra good care of the masseuse.

And, when it finally comes to head up to bed, Taehyung is flooded by offers to keep him company in the bunkroom. It’s Jungkook he picks, the two thick as thieves, and shortly after midnight your phone goes off from a text that Jungkook has sent to everyone except Taehyung. Just two words that are enough to allow your mind and body to rest. He’s okay.

Chapter Text

Waking up on Wednesday is the calmest you’ve felt in a while. Even though it’s not the start of the week, it still feels fresh, and you slept far better last night than you did before elimination.

That being said, fate apparently gives you very limited time to breathe, because the second you open your bedroom door you get a fright that just about stops your heart.

Min Yoongi, fist falling awkwardly in the open space, blinks at you. “Good morning.”

Jesus,” you curse, hand pressed to your sternum as your heart races beneath it, wordlessly stepping back to let him in.

Yoongi slips past you smoothly. “I know the resemblance is startling, but we have been living together for two weeks, Y/n. I’m hurt.”

You scoff as he makes himself comfortable on the edge of your bed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He shrugs, looking more casual than usual in a faded red tee and a pair of jeans rolled up at the ankles. His hair, newly mint, sticks up at odd angles like the first thing he’d done this morning was tip out of bed and come down to your door. It just makes him all the more endearing. “I have a proposition,” he announces vaguely, pulling out a sleek black object from his front pocket and resting it on the duvet beside him.

You narrow your eyes at the foreign object. Made of what must be matte silicon, there’s the slightest hint of silver that circles an on-button at the base of it. Although it’s not particularly long, it’s wide and rounded, and it doesn’t take much brainpower to work out where a toy like that might go.

Yoongi grins as your eyes rove over the toy. “Perhaps less of a proposition, and more of a challenge,” he drawls slowly. A single graceful finger runs up and down the length of the black egg, keeping your gaze locked on it. “I’m gonna fuck you now, sweetheart, and if you can keep my cum inside you all day, I’ll give you a reward. How does that sound?”

You suck in a breath, eyes flying up to his again. You’re nodding before you even really process the implication of his words, but he’s already quirking a finger to beckon you.

“Come sit,” he commands breezily. He’s already hard when you straddle him, your knees braced on the duvet and arms linking around his neck. Glancing up at you, you’re taken by the honeyed way his eyes blink up at you with bemusement. “You’re very obedient this morning,” Yoongi quips, “is this why people like morning sex?”

You scoff, rolling your clothed core against him. “Hurry up and put your dick in me if you’re going to, Min.”

“Never mind, then,” he sighs, but happily slips open his belt buckle with one hand, the other gripping the flesh of your thigh as he frees his cock from the confines of his jeans.

Still in a loose oversized sleep shirt and panties, it’s easy enough for Yoongi to just tug the fabric over your core to one side, fingers sliding through your already-sodden folds.

“Didn’t take much, did it, sweetheart?” he asks with a wry grin, and your cheeks heat, burying your face in the crook of his neck even as his deft fingers spread your wetness over you.

“Stop making fun of me,” you whine, breath hitching when he slips a single finger deep inside you.

“Oh, but I’m not,” he murmurs, voice just as languid as his pumping motions. “It’s fucking hot.”

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, Yoongi beginning to relax your muscles with a second finger, hooking and twisting and curling them in all the ways that make your legs weak.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” You can feel more than see Yoongi’s smirk when you nod hastily, grinding against his fingers. “But it doesn’t sound like it. Why can’t I hear you, hm?”

A free hand presses lightly but firmly at your jaw, lifting your face away from him. You swallow down another moan as his thumb brushes just once over your sensitive clit.

Held up across from Yoongi, you can’t avoid the way he frowns. “That won’t do,” he decides, before his fingers tug down your bottom lip. Without a single falter in his other hand fucking you, now three fingers in, Yoongi hooks his index and middle fingers behind your bottom teeth to keep your mouth open wide for him.

The next time he swipes your clit, you can’t hold back the wanton groan that escapes. Yoongi’s eyes positively light up at the sound as he fucks you harder, jostling you on his lap and making every little noise from your throat magnify.

When he eventually removes his sopping fingers from your core, you whine unabashedly at the absence. The heat that had built up, the beginnings of an orgasm, quickly dissipate.

“Patience,” Yoongi chastises in a voice thick with humour, before lining himself up at your entrance and swiftly pushing you down onto him.

You groan as he fills you, unable to stop the drool that’s begun to spill over onto his fingers. Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind the messiness, however, using the leverage to keep you steady once he starts to fuck up into you.

Your hands fly from the back of his neck to his shoulders, stuttered cries punched out of you with every bounce. Certainly not the biggest member in the household, Yoongi did know how to use his cock to make you melt around him and he quickly makes your fingers and toes curl with pleasure.

Even as he maintains his dominance with the unspoken ease he always carries, it’s undeniable that he’s close with the way he beings to lose his composure. Whether it’s his freshly-dyed hair curling at his temples with the sweat of his exertion or the grunts that slipped past gritted teeth, you love those little glimpses of the animal that wrecked you last week.

When his pace stutters into a desperate jackhammer that leaves you breathless, you know it’s only a matter of time before he spills inside you. Close yourself, you slip a hand down seeking your clit for the needed stimulation to push you over the edge.

The second you feel a glimmer of hot pleasure, however, a hand snakes around your wrist and pulls it away. Your eyes widen, drool spilling messily down Yoongi’s other hand as you babble. “Ngo, ‘o, p’ease,” you slur out, “‘oongi, wan’ cum.”

Your whine gets louder as Yoongi responds to your complaints by slowing down to a deep grind, breathing heavily in his chest. “What are our rules, sweetheart? You have to keep my cum inside you all day to win your reward, don’t you? Now be a good girl and let me fill you up.”

Unlike you, Yoongi has clearly still retained that edge of orgasm, and it doesn’t take much before he’s shuddering with a groan, painting your insides white. Finally lifting his fingers off your bottom teeth, he pushes them further in your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean of your own saliva.

Wrapping your lips around them with a dissatisfied whine, you grind your hips fruitlessly against him as he slowly begins to soften. No hope of cumming this morning, you resign yourself to the challenge he’s set you and let him tip you gently onto the bed, standing himself at the edge still inside you.

You blink up at him, licking your swollen lips once he retracts his fingers from your mouth, picking up the small black egg you’d almost forgotten about. “Is it games?” you ask blearily, sniffling when he pulls out of you.

With one of your legs held up to keep you at a good angle, Yoongi starts to push the rounded vibe inside you, aided by your arousal and his own release. “Is what games?” he asks softly, an airy chuckle leaving his mouth when the toy slips inside you, making you moan at the pressure.

“The prompts,” you explain, clenching around the intrusion that’s plugged Yoongi’s cum inside you. “Work hard, play hard. Are they different games or something?”

Yoongi pauses. “I- I’m not sure if it’s beneficial for me to confirm or deny that,” he admits slowly, before clearing his throat and backing up, letting your legs dangle off the side of the bed. “Can you stand? I’m just about ready for breakfast. Nothing like a good orgasm to build my appetite.”

You send him a scowl as you stand on wobbly legs. “Now you’re just rubbing it in,” you accuse, “this reward better be something special.” Even as you adjust your panties back over you, you’re expecting the silicon egg to come out at any moment. As it is, you feel like you might go crazy before the day’s out.

The doctor makes no effort to hide his satisfaction, eyes shamelessly running over you as you squirm in place. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you today,” he announces lowly, buckling his jeans back up. “If you want your reward you better not take it out or get yourself off. Your pleasure belongs to me today, sweetheart.”

“Yes, sir,” you mouth off sarcastically, even as the wetness between your thighs increases.

While Yoongi may have refused to confirm your theory about the prompts being games, it seems games are the theme of the day regardless.

By the time you get dressed - gingerly, like any wrong move would send the egg slipping out in a torrent of cum - and meet the others downstairs, you see the lounge has been cleared to make way for a misshapen pile of packaged snacks and a bowl full of slips of folded paper.

Taehyung, Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok are already surrounding the offering, cross-legged on the carpet. Yoongi, who’d come down before you, haunts the coffee machine. Just as you do a headcount and wonder where Jimin’s gotten to, the man himself approaches from the shadowy depths of the walk-in pantry, two bottles of wine held in one hand by their necks, and a six-pack of soju in the other.

Jimin jumps in surprise when he looks up to see Yoongi just in front of him, sending the older man a small smile. “Good morning.”

Yoongi eyes up the liquor suspiciously. “I suppose it must be.”

“Sejin dropped them off.”

“The bottles?”

“The games,” Jimin emphasises, pointing with a hand laden with bottles. “Jungkookie, Jin-hyung and I just thought we should make it more fun. Didn’t they tell you?”

Yoongi grumbles but doesn’t answer, cradling his coffee like it’s a lifeline and hobbling over to sit on one of the couches, pushed back to give more space.

Wary of your every step, you sit yourself down in a gap between Jungkook and Namjoon. The youngest perks up and turns to you, looking comfy yet stylish in a modern hanbok, black to make the red in his hair pop.

“It’s drunken truth or dare,” Jungkook declares, feet tapping the carpet in excitement. “Sejin said the audience wants more sexy games.”

Jin clicks his tongue. “He never said sexy.”

Jungkook doesn’t bat an eye, still grinning at you. “The ‘sexy’ was implied.”

“I’m sure it was,” you allow with a chuckle. It doesn’t take long for everyone to find their places, Jungkook turning to his other side and tugging on Yoongi’s trouser leg until he sits on the carpet with the rest of you.

Following the circle along, Jimin sits to Yoongi’s left, then Jin, Hoseok, Taehyung and finally back around to Namjoon who’s on your right.

“Alright, how is this supposed to work?” Yoongi asks reluctantly. “And how can I rig this to retain at least a modicum of my dignity?”

“Here’s the deal,” Hoseok announces, “we take turns picking truths or dares from the bowl. If you don’t want to do it, you take off a piece of clothing. Questions?”

Taehyung hesitantly lifts his hand, staring at the dom to his right. “What if we run out of clothes?” Though he’s moderately dressed in thick sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee, Taehyung doesn’t really have any layers, and he’s already barefoot.

Hoseok shrugs. “Then you play the rest of the game naked, I guess. Stripping is the whole raison d'etre of slutty game nights. What part of that don’t you get?”

Taehyung pauses. “The raisin part.”

“He’s saying the whole point of games like these is stripping,” Jimin explains quickly, clapping once to get everyone’s attention. “Okay! Let’s start. I didn’t have hands free to bring glasses so unless someone else wants to help out, we’re drinking from the bottles. Who wants what?”

It doesn’t take long for the alcohol to be dished out. Taehyung and Hoseok both scamper around like children and end up mixing plain soju with Fanta or sprite, sipping at the fizzing mixture as they giggle away. Jimin is making his way through one of the two wine bottles himself, a pretty moscato rosé that matches the baby pink lip balm he’s wearing. Namjoon has the other bottle, though he pours a full glass in a sturdy-looking coffee mug and pawns the rest off back to the middle. Jungkook and you wordlessly split a flavoured soju, something sweet and fruity with the classic burn at the back of your throat, and Jin sticks with an original one, leaving Yoongi the only one without alcohol.

The man himself takes a long swill of coffee. “Someone better pick a dare then.” Making no effort to actually help himself, he waits for Hoseok to wiggle on his knees to the centre of the circle to grab the bowl, keeping it secure on his lap as he blindly roots around for a slip of paper.

His subconscious grin of excitement fades the second he picks one and reads it. “My fucking luck,” he curses, before changing his voice to a monotone drawl. “Allow Jimin to give you a makeover. If Jimin draws this, pick another member.” He glances up in pain. “Can I pick someone else anyway?”

“That’s not the dare, Hobi!” Jungkook protests in an excited squeal. “Are you gonna let him do it?”

Jimin remains perfectly poised, simply arching an eyebrow when Hoseok sends him an accusatory glare. Like he’s disappointed with the calm reaction from his rival, Hoseok huffs and silently tugs off a sock. “He’s not getting anywhere near my face,” the dom insists, “I just know he’d make me look ugly on purpose.”

“The only way I could do that is by using no makeup at all,” Jimin petulantly responds. “Anyway, now that you’ve contaminated the air with your bare foot, can we move on?”

Hoseok huffs, but thrusts the bowl to his right, handing it to Jin. The therapist sighs like the discourse personally drains him, then picks a slip from the top, opening it with one hand. Immediately, he breaks out into a pealing laugh, shoulders shaking as he slaps his knee with his free hand. “Do a cartwheel.

“What the fuck?” Hoseok shrieks. “Why didn’t I get one like that?”

“Can you do a cartwheel, Hoseok?” Jin questions calmly.

Hoseok’s mouth gapes. “I- no.”

“I guess you were doomed to be one sock down either way, then,” Jin consoles. “I, on the other hand, made it onto my high school cheerleading team.” He steps away to a patch of open carpet. “Well; I was the reserve. I never actually did any games.”

That’s the only warning you get before Jin is launching his torso to the ground, legs flying up and flailing as his hands meet the ground. On landing, his feet come down awkwardly, sending him sprawling onto the back of the couch. “Fuck,” he gasps out, catching his balance, “that was way easier when I was small.”

Jin returns to his place with a smug smile, leaving the room in startled silence. “What? Next person.”

Jimin takes the bowl and pulls out a piece of paper before passing it to his right in front of Yoongi. “Alright, I have…” His eyes rake over, plush lips moving. “What do you hope you can do most before you have to leave the house? Uh… I’d like to try something for the first time.”

Taehyung pouts. “Isn’t that a bit boring, Min?”

Jimin shrugs. “I guess I’m on the other end of the spectrum to Namjoon-hyung. It’s hard to find anything I haven’t done before. I’ve been working for Bangasm for years, and doing porn for even longer. Eventually it feels like everything is the same. I’d like to have something completely new, that I can look back on as special.” He clears his throat loudly and nods his head at Yoongi. “Your turn.”

Yoongi places his now-empty coffee mug on the carpet in front of him, rooting around carelessly for a piece of white. His eyebrows lift past the overhanging swoop of mint. “What sex act have you done that you’ll never do again?” Taking a second to think, Yoongi pushes his tongue to the side of his cheek. “Mm, my best friend and I once experimented with each other just before high school graduation. We were both well over 18 by then, but going to a catholic all boys high school, we were pretty repressed and dumb about those kinda things. He tried to suck me off and threw up right on my dick.”

You cringe violently, the sips of soju you’d already drunk sitting sour in your stomach. “Fuck, that’s so gross, Yoongi. Did he like, say sorry?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Ah, not at the time. He started crying and I had to comfort him while I was still covered in- yeah, I’d honestly kinda blocked that out until this question reminded me. Fuck. Okay, next person, I need to re-forget about that.”

None of you can blame him once he reaches for a straight soju and takes a few deep gulps, throat bobbing.

Jungkook’s next in line, looking a little green in the face from Yoongi’s anecdote. “Right, okay, lemme-” With his eyes scrunched shut, he selects his slip of paper and opens it up. “Get the person to your left in the pool within the next minute.”

Yoongi, too preoccupied with chugging as much liquor as he reasonably can, doesn’t pay attention until he’s deftly snagged around the waist and thrown over Jungkook’s shoulder, the half-empty bottle splashing out onto the carpet.

“Hey! What do you think you’re- Jungkook, where are we going?

Jungkook races out through the back door faster than any of you can keep up with, Taehyung and Hoseok jogging after him to watch from the doorway.

Even from your spot on the floor, you can hear an almighty shriek followed by a splash, and some watery yelling. By the time Yoongi stomps back in, drenched, Namjoon has some towels from the linen closet.

Without the usual sexual tension of a truth and dare game, Yoongi strips off his wet clothes and wraps himself grouchily in as many towels as possible, the final one over his head and tucked under his chin.

Looking like a drenched cat, Yoongi scowls and shivers. “Can I at least go upstairs and get into some dry clothes, or do I have to risk a second dunk?”

Jungkook shrugs airly, passing the bowl down the line. “The risk of me dunking you again is pretty low, hyung. But never zero.”

The plastic bowl now rests in front of you. You eye the folded slips inside warily, before picking one roughly in the middle of the pile. Unfolding the small rectangle, you let out a week laugh once your eyes scan the neatly handwritten words. “Trade shirts with the person on your right.

“That’s you, Joonie.” You rake over Namjoon’s getup with a wary eye. Luckily, he’s wearing a forest green tee over some chunky camo pants. You think he’s probably going to be worse off than you having to put on your own thin sweater. “Let’s swap.”

Slipping it off, you shiver in the cold air and feel the hairs on your arms stand up on end. Ignoring the rapt eyes of the others, you chuck it into Namjoon’s lap and watch his stomach and biceps flex as he lifts his own shirt over his head.

The fabric is cotton, but feels so silken against your skin, still warm from his body heat. While the hem of his shirt pools in your lap, your sweater on him strains around his waist, a solid two or three inches above his waistband.

You can’t help but let out a chuckle at the corded body, thick chest and meaty forearms barely being restrained by the slightly fuzzy pastel yellow sweater. “Looking good, Joon,” you jibe, poking him right where the skin of his hips is exposed.

He winces, carding a hand through his grey-silver hair, now ruffled from the closet change. “I’m sorry if it gets stretched out of shape after this. Is it my go?” Without waiting for an answer, he shakes up the bowl and retrieves a piece of paper from the bunch. “Jin’s cooking or Yoongi’s cooking.

The colour drains from Namjoon’s face at the two men staring him down impassively, one of them sitting poised with an expectant glare, the other shivering slightly through layers of damp towels, round face poking out of the terrycloth with a warning frown.

“Um… I-” Namjoon gulps, and begins to undo the strap on his watch, leaving his wrist bare and slightly pale. “Tae, you’re up.”

Even without either man receiving the victory, they both seem mollified, Yoongi taking the opportunity to gather the towels and rush upstairs quickly. A small wet patch is left on the carpet in his place, Jimin and Jungkook on either side laying some fresh towels on top to soak it up.

Before you even notice Taehyung getting a slip, he’s hooting in excitement, jumping up to stand. “Design an outfit for a member in the house with random clothing in the villa!” He eyes up the people in the circle before gasping. “Wait! No! I’ll go do Yoongi while he’s changing!”

Like an excited puppy, he’s off up the stairs, chasing after the doctor.

“Do we…wait for him?” Jungkook asks uncertainly. His chest jerks with a hiccup, having finished most of your shared bottle of soju.

Leaning forward with a shrug, you snag another bottle, cracking open the lid and taking a sip of the refreshing green apple taste. Not your favourite, but you were just tipsy enough to not care all that much.

As the rest of you mind your time waiting for the absent two to return, some of the others begin on the snacks. Although Jimin has passed halfway on his moscato, he seems perfectly composed as he and Jin share a packet of rice snacks. Jungkook nibbles on the ends of a handful of Pocky sticks, wobbling slightly on the spot. Hoseok’s face is bright red even though he’s just been sipping at his fizzy soju concoction, so he gets a bag of Doritos and begins crunching madly.

Namjoon is holding his mug of white wine in both hands, so he stays snackless, shifting and sneaking glances at the stairs. Still looking comically beefy in your fitted sweater and camo pants with a million pockets, part of you thinks perhaps he was put out that he wasn’t the one to get an opportunity to change clothes again into something that fit a little better.

It doesn’t take long for a frantic thud-thud-thud echo through the room as Taehyung comes bounding down the stairs. “And introducing…!” he shouts cheerily. “The newest dom of the Red Room, Min Yoongiiii!”

When Yoongi comes down, the reaction he was expecting probably wasn’t cooing, but you can’t help it. Taehyung has done well to pick out glossy leather pants, thick-soled black boots, a white shirt and even a leather harness around the top of his chest, all the things that spoke to a professional dom, but on Yoongi it just looks like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

Hoseok, clearly the original owner of the clothes judging by his gobsmacked look of recognition, is far taller than Yoongi, so the shirt drowns his torso and the pants are rolled up at the ends. All in all, he looks so tiny and sweet, hair still damp and tangled, that you imagine the dom clothes just served to make him appear cuter in contrast.

He scowls as he sits down, plump bottom lip sticking out, and reaches for his near-empty bottle of soju with a huff. “I hate this game,” he declares before taking a swig.

“You have had bad luck, hyung,” Hoseok admits, “I’m sure it’ll turn. And speaking of turns; it’s mine now!”

As Hoseok begins digging around for his, taking a dramatically long time just to make everyone groan, your pocket vibrates. Reaching down to check your phone, you suck in a breath when you see the text from Yoongi. It displays a single arrow pointing up, followed by an unambiguous now.

You clear your throat just as Hoseok picks a slip. “I’m just going to the bathroom, you can keep going without me.”

Apparently not concerned about subtlety, Yoongi just stands up and follows, his eyes dark on you.

Hoseok lets out a wolf whistle that makes your cheeks heat, before apparently giving up and returning to the game. You manage to make it upstairs with little fanfare, but Yoongi’s hand snakes around your wrist and his body cages you against the wall in the upstairs hallway before you can make it to your room.

Your breath hitches as his eyes burn into you like twin furnaces. “Have you been a good girl for me?” he asks in a low voice, lip quirking when you nod. “Let me check.”

Your eyes widen. “Here?”

Yoongi jerks his chin towards the sturdy metal banister that runs across the edge of the landing to the top of the stairs. “Bend over, sweetheart.”

You obey before you even realise just how exposed this position makes you. Gripping onto the metal like a lifeline, your face and upper body are well in view of anyone that came into the entrance foyer downstairs. As Yoongi slips down your panties and jeans in one go, your core throbs around the plug. “Please, Yoongi,” you breathe without thinking.

He slips a finger inside you without warning, hooking around the top of the plug and slowly dragging it closer to your entrance.. “Please what?”

“I- ungh.” Your mind comes to a halt as your walls stretch, the plug slipping out into his palm with an obscene noise. You don’t have to feel empty for long, as you feel the blunt head of his cock replacing the silicon toy, reaching much further depths to keep his cum from this morning buried deep inside you. “Fuck.”

Yoongi chuckles, using one hand to steady himself on your hip as he begins to fuck you in earnest, hips smacking your ass. “Well, that wasn’t a very articulate answer,” he teases, “it’s only been a couple of hours and you’ve already become a dumb little cumdump, haven’t you?”

You gasp at his sudden degradation, but you can’t hide the way you clench around him, biting down harshly on your lip to muffle a moan.

“Fuck, you like that?” he curses with a satisfied growl, picking up the pace so that his every thrust jerks your hips forward against the banister. “Spread out in the middle of the hallway for anyone to see, just here to keep my cock and my cum warm?”

You shiver. “Y-yes, Yoongi, fuck me harder, gi-give me your cum, wan’ it!” Denied from an orgasm earlier in the day, it’s no surprise that your dignity drops away so soon, your mind morphing into a desperate organ that needs relief. Doing your best to fuck yourself back on him, you let out a whine. You’d lose your balance if you took a hand off the banner, and you both know it. Something in you doesn’t think Yoongi would do it for you, either, if this morning was anything to go off.

“Such a slut, sweetheart,” Yoongi pants out, but instead of the hard edge of degradation, his voice is honeyed with praise. “So fucking good for me, my little cocksleeve.”

Your eyes begin to prickle, so close yet so far from the orgasm that he deftly dangles in front of you. Uncaring of who could hear you downstairs, or the fact that Yoongi probably wouldn’t listen anyway, you start to mindlessly beg him, letting out a weak stuttered moan with every plunge inside you.

As expected, he just shushes you and tightens his grip on your waist, his pace picking up impossibly fast until he suddenly goes stiff and spills inside you, catching his breath. “That’s a good girl,” he gasps between gulps of air, “still so tight, mean Yoongi not letting you cum.”

You whimper as he slides out slowly, pressing a hand on the small of your back to keep your ass arched up as he slips the still-wet egg back inside. Your legs tremble and your core clenches in dissatisfaction at the second denial, but the pleased smile on his face as you keep two loads of cum inside you is enough to make your heart soar.

He hands you a tissue to wipe the slick off your thighs before lifting your jeans back up, and he cleans off his hand, using his mouth to suck away the creamy mix of your arousal and his cum that had gotten on it from the silicon egg. “Did so well, sweetheart,” he coos, “not much longer now.”

Yoongi ends up returning downstairs first again, if only to give you some time to lose the wobbliness in your knees, but by the time you sit back down, it’s clear a round or so must have gone by without you.

There’s a near-empty glass in the middle of the room, a layer of sludgy green around the sides and gathering at the bottom. Hoseok bears a disgusted frown, swishing lemonade in his puffed cheeks. Jungkook isn’t wearing any pants, Taehyung has lost another sock, and Jin has a stripe of wetness running up his cheek like someone’s licked him. Namjoon doesn’t meet his gaze.

Yoongi glances up and runs his eyes over you as you sit back down gingerly. “Good timing. Your turn, sweetheart.”

You let out a sigh, take a gulp of the closest open soju bottle near you - this one sickly sweet - and pick a piece of paper at random. “How long are we even going to- Oh. What is your ideal sexual scenario.” Your cheeks are on fire. “I- Surely I shouldn’t answer, though, because then you’ll all just do it to try and stay in the game.”

“If it’s your ideal scenario, wouldn’t you prefer to experience it multiple times?” Jin questions, his eyes burning with curiosity even as he keeps his expression neutral.

Jungkook shrugs, the motion lifting his shirt to reveal grey boxer briefs. He seems totally unbothered about his state of undress. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, either. If it helps, I’ll tell you mine.”

You narrow your eyes. “Seriously? Fine, you go first.”

He shrugs again, shaking his head so the strands of red fall away from his eyes. “I’m in a five-star hotel. They gave me like the President’s suite or something because I’m super rich and super important, and it has a whole bunch of video games. I enjoy room service and play video games for an hour, only I didn’t come alone. I have a bunch of hot people, like at least five, and they all wanna fuck me.” Like he’s telling a perfectly innocent yet incredibly interesting story, Jungkook gestures and speaks emphatically, the other members of the house listening in with a dumbfounded silence. “I definitely wanna fuck them too, you know, but I’m busy. Playing games and stuff. So they do everything they can to get my attention, until eventually either I take pity on them and wreck them, or one of them decides to shut the game off and make me pay for ignoring them. I guess ideal would be some of both. And then we all fuck, and I’m right in the middle because it’s all about me. The end.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Why does it sound like you’ve thought this through in great depth?”

“Because I have,” Jungkook answers simply. “Look, one time my friend and I got a fancy hotel room together and I thought it would be totally perfect if there were video games or something fun to do in the room, you know? And also I had a massive crush on her so my mind was also in the gutter and everything just came together.”

You blink. “Well… Okay, I don’t think mine will be so elaborate because I haven’t really… I don’t know. I guess mine would be renting a cabin or a chalet somewhere super remote for like a whole week with someone, knowing that we can basically have sex all day and all night without worrying about anything else.” Your cheeks flush, and you clear your throat awkwardly, staring at the fibres of the carpet.

“Sex retreat,” Jungkook summarises knowingly, “that’s a good one. Anyways, Namjoon’s turn again.”

Over the next few hours, the eight of you get consistently more tipsy, and eventually replace the alcohol with some steamed rice and leftover soup to sober up a bit. Taehyung had to do a blind taste test (apparently Hoseok’s elbow tasted like pork), Namjoon stripped off your stretched-out pink sweater to avoid answering a truth that made him blush so hard he wouldn’t even read it out, and Jimin theorised on who the biggest dick in the house was (guessing Jin, the eldest strutted around like a smug peacock for the rest of the night).

You’d gotten off decently lightly; answering a few questions about Sejin, music, and even Mango, then taking off your pants to avoid a dare that asked you to strip entirely. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you didn’t want to part with Namjoon’s shirt that soon.

Every time you managed to forget about the egg-shaped toy inside you, you’d laugh or change positions or reach forward for a drink and feel it shift inside you. You felt full in a way you’ve never really experienced before, and you couldn’t work out if you liked it or not. Another thing you couldn’t decide if you liked or not was the constant worry that your underwear would betray a dark patch or trail of cum that had escaped you, and the whole rooom would know exactly what Yoongi had done to you. The thought made your heart thud.

By the time Jin started to stack the dishwasher and Jimin - still the most sober one though he outdrunk most of you - cleans up the lounge, you feel equally tired and horny, desperate to get the reward that Yoongi’s been dangling in front of you.

He doesn’t even have to text you or command you; you quite happily trail him to his room like a needy pet, hoping your eyes convey your want.

“Can I help you?” Yoongi asks with a shit-eating grin, finally slipping out of the leather chest harness he’d been grumbling about all afternoon.

You narrow your eyebrows, feeling the toy shift inside you with every movement. “I think you can,” you pout.

His gaze glimmers with bemusement. “Come sit, sweetheart, let me make sure you’ve been good.”

He doesn’t even speak as he pushes lightly at your shoulder, guiding you to lie down on his bed, legs dangling over the edge. With his quiet demeanor of authority, much like you imagine he’d use in his clinic, he slides down your panties and parts your legs, humming in approval at what he sees. “You have been good. Keeping my cum warm for me, what a well-behaved slut you are.”

You suck in a breath at his words, tilting your hips up. “Yoongi, please.”

“I do want to give you your reward now,” he begins, and your heart sinks into your stomach at his reluctant tone. “Really, I do. But if you really want to please me, why don’t you let me fill you up one more time, hm?”

You have the rising urge to bite down hard on your knuckles, teeth grinding as you whine. “Yoongi,” you protest, but the need to please is too great to ignore. “Yeah, fuck me again, Yoongi. Please be quick, I want it.”

Yoongi laughs, a warm grumble in his chest. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve already milked me dry twice today. I won’t be lasting long.”

Quicker than your arousal-addled mind can really process, Yoongi is tugging the plug from you and driving his cock in in one smooth motion. You cry out, a hand flying out to latch onto his arm to ground you as you tighten around his intrusion. “Fuh-fuck, oh god,” you make out through a tensed jaw.

“Shh,” the doctor coos, “are you sensitive? Poor sweetheart, Yoongi’s been so mean not letting you cum, keeping you plugged up all day.”

Your eyes tear up as he jackhammers his hips into you, brute force to achieve a quick and desperate orgasm. Though you doubt he’ll let you cum, you’ve been aroused so much today that heat already curls thickly in your stomach. You can barely respond with no air left in your lungs, so you just garble wordlessly, clutching at him for dear life.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind your inability to hold a coherent conversation. As he mercilessly seeks out your wetness, he continues to spew filth with a grin exposing his teeth. “Gonna fill you up so well, huh? Fill you right up to the brim, you’ll be leaking for days. Taking this cock so well, sweetheart. Just like that, fuck. My perfect little cumdump, only been a day and you’re so well-behaved, yeah? Just drooling for it, look at you.”

You’re out of your mind, holding on to his words and the shared contact like they’re your only lifelines. When Yoongi lets out a guttural groan and comes inside you for the third time that day, you feel totally boneless, unable to do more than whine and shiver on the duvet.

Edged yet again, the only energy left in your body is singing out for an orgasm, and so when you feel his hand cupping your heat, you rock into it mindlessly, warranting a quick and stinging swat to your thigh.

“You’ve been so patient, sweetheart, don’t be greedy now,” Yoongi chastises. “I need you to move for me, okay, on your knees on the bed. Clench hard; I don’t want my cum going to waste on the bedsheets.”

You groan weakly but follow his instructions, bleary-eyed as you watch him walk around the other sie of his bed before getting up and lying down on his back, mint hair splayed out on the pillow. He grins at you, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Come on, then,” he lures, “take a seat.”

You moan out loud before you can even think to swallow it down. “Are you serious? Fuck, okay.” Feeling breathless but vibrating with excitement, you gingerly position yourself above his face, knees either side of his head. It takes a lot of energy to hold your walls tight together, but still his seed runs down your thighs.

He doesn’t seem to mind. Without a moment’s hesitation he mumbles, “let go, sweetheart,” and buries himself between your legs.

You cry out at the first swipe of his tongue, right over your entrance. Your muscles naturally flex, releasing more of him, but you remember his words and let yourself relax.

Yoongi laps up his own cum from you like it’s the sweetest nectar, driving his tongue sharp and deep inside you, then switching to broad, shallow strokes, before flicking the tip against your clit. Although you try to avoid squashing him, he hungrily grabs the flesh of your ass and tugs you down to meet him more fully, making you let out a broken moan and grip the headboard for support.

As he devours you, his hands encourage you to rock against his face, seeking out more pleasure. Whenever he dips his tongue lower to lick you clean, his nose rubs against your clit, and once enabled you can’t help but grind into the long-awaited stimulation, a constant stream of breathy sighs and hiccuped moans slipping from your lips.

The sensation of his cum leaving you is one that takes some getting used to, but it seems to go on forever, unbelievably wet against Yoongi’s face as he eats you out like a silver-tongued god. Your mind is filled with the visual of his eyes, clenched shut in focus, and the mental image of his cum filling your insides, an endless stream with how deep and full he’d fucked you today.

It’s no surprise that it takes you almost no time at all to reach that edge again, and you could cry in relief when, instead of edging you again, he pushes you over it with a sharp tongue, fingers digging into your ass as you rode it out on his face.

What does surprise you, however, is that once the pleasure turns to needling oversensitivity, and your muscles go lax, his grip only tightens, and his tongue just speeds up, ruthlessly pitching you long past the point of your orgasm.

“Yoongi, ah, ‘s too much!” you hiss, trying to wriggle away. Your knees are too wide to give you any leverage, however, and he lifts his forearms up and over your thighs, locking you against him.

You feel rather than hear the vibration of him grunting his response, but he doesn’t let up; not when you sob and writhe above him, not when you go totally silent, mind-blown at how the sensations are beginning to cycle around back to pleasure, and certainly not when a second orgasm is forced upon you, wracking through your body. More violent than the first one, you shudder against him and go slack against the headboard, moans weak and stuttered.

As your body continues to convulse and twitch with the aftermath of your back-to-back orgasms, Yoongi takes the wheel and gently maneuvers you to the side of his bed, head heavy on the pillow.

When he cleans you up, your pussy feels positively raw, and you hiss, locking your thighs around his hand and the damp facecloth he’d used. Mind hazy and floating, it seems like no time at all before he’s tucking the both of you under the covers, snagging you around the stomach and pulling you flush against his back.

Still in Namjoon’s soft shirt, you can nonetheless feel the heat radiating off Yoongi’s skin and his heart thudding in his chest. “Was that okay?” he asks, pressing a single soft kiss against the nape of your neck to punctuate his question.

“Fuck, more than okay,” you pant out.

You feel him smile against your skin. “I’m glad. Sleep well, sweetheart.”

You hum in response, getting yourself comfy, feeling secure in his hold. “Night, Yoon.”

Chapter Text

All things considered; you were rather lucky to be sharing a room with Yoongi when you wake up that morning.

The second consciousness returns to you, it brings a feeling of nausea so abrupt that you’re careening off the bed and rushing to bed over the toilet without a second’s thought, body running on survival mode.

You’re not sure what wakes Yoongi - the sudden absence of pressure and heat against him, or the sound of you throwing up all the food and alcohol you’d consumed last night – but it takes mere moments before you feel him gently caressing your trembling body, lifting your tangled hair back off your face.

“Just let it out,” he coos softly as you bend over miserably, the sour taste on your tongue making your stomach turn again, “you’ll feel better after, I promise. That’s it.”

The moment you finally have nothing left to empty out, you collapse sideways onto the cool bathroom tile, hand curling over your stomach. Yoongi gets up to flush the toilet and gets out a spare toothbrush from under his sink, pressing it into your hand already prepped with toothpaste. “I’m sorry,” you mumble lowly, nose running slightly as you sniffle. “I think I drank too much. That green apple soju fucking sucks, too.”

The doctor has the good graces to smile at your attempt of lightening the mood, but it’s strained, waiting for you to begin brushing the acrid leftovers from your mouth before speaking. “You’d better have a light breakfast, okay? Some toast and maybe a cup of herbal tea to settle your stomach. Can you stand? I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your room while you take a shower here.”

Your heart warms at his endearing bedside manner. “I’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says with a mock sigh. “Come on; you can wash your hair, too. Feeling nice and clean will help.”

Sniffing one last time, you give him an agreeing nod and hunker up on your knees, before standing. God, but why do you still feel so nauseous? That fucking soju. Yoongi must see the discomfort on your face, because he gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Not to worry, I’m sure I have something here you can take which will make you feel better. You aren’t the first person to not handle their liquor in the villa.”

You give him a questioning frown, your throat feeling raw as you clear it lightly. “What do you mean? Everyone seemed okay yesterday.”

“Hoseok texted me,” Yoongi answers with a shrug. “I didn’t see it ‘til after you fell asleep, but apparently poor Tae was curled up with a hot water bottle last night feeling rather sorry for himself. I think he got a little trigger-happy on his Sprite and soju mixers.”

Your brows furrow in concern, your own condition forgotten. “Is he alright?” You mentally kick yourself for not being more attentive to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel excluded now that he was voted out.

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Hoseokie and Jimin apparently actually spent the night in the bunk room with him, because both refused to leave. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Holy shit,” you muse. “If you weren’t so busy filling me like a cream puff maybe we could’ve witnessed that.”

Yoongi’s mouth gapes at your jibe, and you let out a hiccupping giggle when he rushes you, jabbing at your sides. “You little shit! That’s how you repay me after yesterday?”

You chuckle, feeling significantly more cheerful than when you woke up. “I gotta keep you humble, Doctor Min.”

His shoulders jump with a fond huff. “You’re impossible,” he gives in with a begrudging smile. “Now go; shower! I’ll be back.”

By the time you’re downstairs, enjoying some lightly buttered toast and an aromatic peachy-tasting tea - laughing with Taehyung who has slunk downstairs like a viscous goop, slumped on the table sucking on a vitamin table - any concerns or worries about your brief vomiting spell have entirely left your mind.

Jungkook is antsy.

He cycles madly between intense eye-contact and complete avoidance of your existence, looking for all intents and purposes like a deer in headlights. You imagine it’s because he wants to do his prompt today, and you certainly could dispel the awkward tension by just asking him if he wants to go upstairs or texting him to dig a little, but where would the fun in that be? You much prefer cuddling with Taehyung and a chunky blanket, pretending to watch The Voice of Korea while you really watch Jungkook squirm instead.

Taehyung sighs wistfully as a contestant finishes with a belted high note, all four judges slamming down their buttons and giving the cameras big reactions once they turn and catch a glimpse of the singer. “I wish I could be on the show,” the masseuse says with another slow sigh.

You grin, poking him in the cheek with a single finger. “Is our puppy a good singer, huh? Do you reckon you’d win?”

“What?” Taehyung asks distractedly, his eyes locked to the screen. “No, I wanna sit in those big chairs and spin around. It’d be so fun.”

Your surprised laugh makes Jungkook jump in his seat, even as he sits on the opposite couch to the two of you and glares intensely at the pages of a comic book he’d stolen from someone, spending far too long on one page to actually be reading it.

Hoseok, who sits completely silently next to Jungkook - extremely strange for the normally bubbly man - is even more suspicious. Every few seconds, he shoves his phone under Jungkook’s nose, before pulling it away and typing furiously.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was giving the youngest contestant salacious tips, instructions, or both, judging by the way Jungkook’s cheeks get hotter with every message.

A lazy day after the drunken entertainment from the day before, the four of you had chosen to collapse onto the couch and stay there, flicking between channels as you idly enjoyed each other’s company. Namjoon had texted the groupchat and put a note on his door warning people that he was studying for an exam for a summer course he’d signed up for. This was the first you’d heard of said course, but his messages had contained several exclamation points, so you knew it was serious.

Jimin was also making the most of his privacy. The only glimpse you’d seen of him at all today was while you and Taehyung were cleaning your dishes. He’d rushed down in a fluffy white bathrobe, covering his face with his sleeve, bemoaning the drinking that had done serious damage to his clear skin. When he dropped his sleeve to bundle some ice into a paper towel, it looked fine to you, albeit pinker in the cheeks and forehead than his bare face had been before, but he swore the two of you to silence and determined he was going to lock himself into his room until he no longer looked like “an evil stepmother.”

Jin and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, though most of the house were almost certain they’d become something akin to fuckbuddies considering how often they disappeared together, and how rampant and shameless their sexual tension was whenever they cooked together for the rest of you.

It had taken a while for Taehyung to bounce back from his hangover, Hoseok fussing over him like a child as Tae clung to you for some tactile comfort. Spending a day by yourself hadn’t really been an option when you’d been cuddling with him for hours, but you were far happier spending some quality time with the masseuse.

It takes no more than three new contestants on the TV show to have their moment in front of the judges for Jungkook to break. Hoseok’s given up on the phone messages, instead whispering directly Jungkook’s ear as the boy clutches the open comic book in front of his lap  so hard his knuckles go white.

Laughing at the flustered camboy, Hoseok loses all tact and stops damping his voice, his natural level loud enough that you can make it out over the garishly aggressive appliance store advertisement on the TV. “Come on, Kookie, it’ll be great!” he insists, Jungkook cringing at the volume. “Switching things up will help your chances for fan favourite too, and surely you’ve done-”

Jungkook stands up abruptly, comic book still propped up in front of his crotch as his cheeks and neck go bright red. “If you like pegging so much, why don’t you do it, then?” he blurts with a cry, before the realisation of what he said aloud hits him. Choking on air, he just about trips back onto the couch in his haste to leave, stomping upstairs like a wronged teenager.

Everyone goes silent, a cheery female voice announcing that Subway’s quality is higher than ever being the only sound in the room. Mouth open, you blink over to Hoseok. “Should I… go check on him?”

“Uh- Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a slight pained look of guilt flickering across his face before he brightens up. “But it’s dangerous; you should take a strap with you.”

You pause halfway through standing up, Taehyung letting go of you and curling deeper into the pile of blankets. “Have you no shame, Hoseok? You humiliated the poor kid!”

Hoseok grins broadly. “He only reacted that much because he liked the idea,” he protests, before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And what about you, princess? Do you like the idea?”

You swallow, straightening up fully. “I haven’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” you offer up slowly. “I’m not- I’m not opposed.” But even as you say that, you begin to picture it. Jungkook on all fours in front of you, or perhaps spread out on his back, brows furrowed in pleasure, clingy and whiny. Though it was certainly new ground to you, most things were these days, and you’ve started craving fresh experiences, feeling more alive and excited about sex than you’ve ever really felt before.

A lightly huffed laugh leaves Hoseok’s lips. “I’d say you’re a little more than ambivalent, judging by that look on your face. Go upstairs now, princess; Jungkook’s ass needs you.”

You scoff, patting Taehyung’s cheek goodbye before leaving the way the maknae left earlier. Upstairs, Jungkook’s door is open the slightest sliver. A shy invitation.

You knock anyway, calling out his name. When his sullen voice invites you in, you slip inside and shut the door behind you. With his head hanging, shoulders slumped, poor Jungkook looks miserable. “Oh, Gukkie, baby, you’re okay,” you soothe, rushing to his side.

Folding his hands cutely over his crotch, he keeps his head down, but nuzzles against your stomach when you pull him into an embrace, running your hands through the long, heavy black locks of his hair. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to ball his fist in the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart warms at the little action even as it aches for his sadness. “What are you sorry for? You don’t have to be sorry.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you can just about hear the pout. “Embarrassed,” he explains shortly. “You probably think it’s gross.”

“Of course I don’t,” you deny in a soft yet firm voice, still stroking his hair. “Baby, if you want me to do it for you, I will.”

He looks up suddenly, chin propped up on your stomach. “Really?” he asks in hope, eyes glittering like entire galaxies.

You shrug. “I mean, I haven’t used a strap-on before, so it probably won’t be very good, but I wanna try if it’s something that would make you happy, you know?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts sweetly, before he lets out a dejected breath. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, letting his head drop off you again. “I still feel really embarrassed. Hobi-hyung was te-teasing me so much.”

You wince at the way his voice hitches and wobbles, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you coo. “I think he was just trying to encourage you. But if he made you uncomfortable, I can go down there right now and-”

As you start to shift away, a hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist, snagging you in place. “No,” Jungkook interrupts quickly, before turning sullen again, lifting up his head so that you can just barely see his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. “Can you just stay with me?”

Reaching forward to cup his cheek and bring his gaze up, you send him your warmest smile. “I’ll stay,” you promise, “want me to help cheer you up? I don’t like seeing my Gukkie so sad.”

His bottom lip quivers as he nods, fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging you back to his side. “Yes, please,” he asks politely, voice still so hesitant as his gaze drops like he’s too shy to meet yours, face pressing into your palm. “Want you to make me feel better.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes dart up, just for a second, and reveal a glimmer that isn’t tears so much as mischief. You realise quickly that perhaps Jungkook is pulling on your heartstrings intentionally, luring you in just like he did the day after the fight, when everyone in the house bent over backwards to give him what he wanted. But you aren’t mad; truth be told, every second that passes, you grow more excited about what’s to come. “Of course I will,” you reply warmly. “Can I give you a kiss, baby?”

One thing you aren’t prepared for as you carefully straddle his lap and press your lips against his is just how differently he kisses when he’s in this submissive frame of mind. You’d associated Jungkook with hunger, fierce passion and need. This Jungkook was needy, but in a very different way. Lips parted, he tilts his chin and lets you take over, his fingers curling tightly in the fabric of your shirt, his long hair tickling against your cheeks.

And unlike the more dominant Jungkook that would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, the camboy now seems impatient, hips shifting under you and whines leaving his throat as he breaks apart, lips swollen. “Will you fuck me, Y/n? I need you.”

Sucking in a breath, you’re nodding before you’ve even really processed his words. “How do I, uh, what should I-”

“The stuff’s in my nightstand drawer,” Jungkook offers up in explanation. The young man bites his lip, looking positively delectable. In a starch-white t-shirt that simultaneously swamps his figure but exposes his delicate collarbones with the v-neck, and his long locks tucked behind his ears, no imagination is required to see how easily he fits into this subby persona. Even as he’s physically much larger than you, and there’s no hiding his thick thighs and broad shoulders, his expression and posture alone convey plenty. “But, um… Could you- could you help prepare me first? I can if you’re uncomfortable, you know. No pressure.”

“I can,” you assure quickly, standing up when he wriggles meaningfully beneath you. “I mean, I want to. Is it, you know…?” You trail off, watching Jungkook scoot himself back so that his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He tilts his head in confusion. “Clean?” you hiss softly, cheeks flaming.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide and mouth parted in a small o. “I- Yeah, it’s, uh, clean, I-”

“Sorry,” you grimace, “that totally ruined the mood, didn’t it? I’m new to this.”

“You don’t have to, honestly,” Jungkook says with a small voice, fiddling with the loose threads in the rips of his jeans. “I can do it.”

You’re really fucking this up, huh? “No, no, I want to, it’s fine!”

“I swear, I won’t be offended if it weirds you out-”

Without a pause to think, your lips are moving. “Pants off, Gukkie, I’m going to finger you,” you announce in a firm voice, chin jutting forward in your determination.

You hadn’t even intended to use it as power play, more so just insisting what you were okay with, but his reaction is undeniable. Jungkook visibly melts at your command, eyelids fluttering for a moment and shoulders going lax. Even his socked feet turn inwards, the complete posture of submission. The image of it sends heat through you, and you feel alive with it.

“Th-thank you,” Jungkook stutters, chest hitching. “How do you want me?”

Even though you don’t know the least about fingering or prepping, you’re quickly growing addicted to the way he responds to your authority, so you make a split second decision. “All fours, baby. And clothes off for me.”

Jungkook bites down a whine - how you wish he wouldn’t muffle himself - but obeys quickly, stripping all the way down to his socks, toeing them off hastily before getting on his knees. Clearly a position he’s used to, the camboy wastes no time in presenting himself, upper torso flat against the bed and back arched up to expose himself. With a cheek pressed against the mattress to look back at you, his hair slips over and covers his face.

Before he has the chance to huff, you reach forward and tuck it back behind his ear, tapping your finger once on his nose to make him scrunch it, a toothy grin on his face. “Y/n!” he protests with a hiccupy giggle.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help out, baby. Can I ask you a favour?”

Jungkook’s grinning so widely that his eyes crinkle. “You’re the dom, Y/n, you don’t need to ask favours, you know?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” you muse. It’s so easy to forget that the control is yours, especially when you’re a bit out of your depth. Resolving yourself to be more authoritative, you clear your throat and school your expression. “Mouth open, Gukkie.”

Following your command so quickly that there’s an audible sound, Jungkook braces himself up a little with his forearms so that he can face you better with his jaw wide open and tongue lolled out on his bottom lip.

When you place your first two fingers of your dominant hand on that pretty pink tongue, you don’t even have to command him to suck before he’s wrapping his lips around them and hollowing his cheeks, blinking up at you for approval.

You try and use the past couple weeks of dirty talk from the guys to inspire you when talking to Jungkook, using your other hand to comb the hair back from his face again. “That’s it, baby,” you croon, “nice and wet; soak them for me. What a good boy.”

Keening under your praise, still bent over on his knees, Jungkook swirls his tongue and salivates over your digits diligently. It feels strange; the hot wet cavern, the muscle covering every inch of your skin. Your stomach flips in arousal when you begin to tug your fingers out and he pulls off them with a pop, drool on his chin and pupils blown wide.

“Alright, Gukkie, stay there,” you indicate, holding your spit-slicked fingers aloft as you get on the bed behind him. Cock dangling hard between his legs, he’s hunkered down, heels pressed against his upper thighs. You could easily reach him from here, but there’s something rising within you, an urge to play with him a little rougher.

He jumps and lets out a surprised cry when you rain down your other palm on his asscheek in a swift spank, head falling back to the mattress.

“Did I say you could lie down? Ass up, Gukkie,” you spit sharply, satisfaction curling around your ribs as he lifts his hips without delay, back arching beautifully to present himself once again. A roughly hand-shaped pink flush on his otherwise unblemished skin makes you bite your lip. “Colour?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, fingers fisting the sheets. You fear the worst for a second, but it seems like it just took him a second to comprehend you, because just as soon as the worry rises, he lets out a cute gasp of realisation and spreads his knees further. “Green, so green.”

“Good boy,” you praise, relief clear in your voice. “A single hair out of position without my permission and there’ll be more where that came from.” Though you secretly admit spanking the responsive boy feels good in some odd way, you’d feel a lot better knowing when he’d intentionally stepped out of line, and so giving him a specific avenue assuages some of your potential guilt over the impact play. He seems to understand too, nodding his head sweetly and visibly flexing this thighs to keep steady.

This isn’t usually an angle you’re used to seeing on a guy, but as you gently circle the tight muscle of his rim, you marvel at how Jungkook still makes it look good. Entirely free of hair, ass, thighs and back thick and sculpted, it’s clear the visual is an important thing, especially in his line of work.

You can feel his body go slightly stiff when he holds his breath, but the slightest pressure makes him tremble, his eyes loosely shut as he focuses on pure sensation. Wary of the spit drying off your fingers too soon, you swiftly but smoothly slide your first finger all the way inside of him. There’s resistance up until the first knuckle as he clenches, but once you reach a certain point it’s like his body is letting you in. So tight that you can feel his walls flex, it’s an odd sensation to get used to, but you know from experience that the first intrusion feels odd to receive, too, and that only building up stimulation helps get past it.

For that reason, you don’t pause much before you begin fucking your one finger into him, using your other hand to grasp the flesh of his ass and part him. “Doing so well, baby,” you compliment when Jungkook lets out a guttural, drawn-out whine. Minutely, you feel his hips rock, seeking stimulation in the right place. You know he’s probably aching for his prostate to be touched, but you haven’t the slightest clue on where to find it.

Instead, your next best option is external. Once you draw your first finger out and start to stretch his rim on two, you reach around and under him, hand wrapping around his cock.

Startled, Jungkook goes iron-tight around your two fingers and cries out. You freeze, worried you’ve done something wrong, but he rocks himself back, burying your fingers deeper inside him.

Even in your uncertainty on how to proceed, you know one thing: he’s actively chosen to move out of place.

This time when you drop his length and come back up to spank him, he moans, face going lax and dopey. “Fu-fuck, please,” he breathes, “I’m sorry, I need more.”

“You need more?” you ask, soothing a palm over the reddened skin. “I didn’t realise you were in any position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. “Please give me more, I can take it, please.”

“That’s more like it,” you state proudly, before cringing at how cheesy the words sound to your own ears. Although taking control is fun, you don’t feel as at ease with a filthy tongue like you were used to the others being. Jungkook however, unable to see your reaction, just makes a needy noise in his throat, hotly anticipating your next move.

As you start to move your fingers again, however, they don’t glide like they did before. Unlike a proper lubricant, his saliva has evaporated away, and the dry friction certainly can’t be pleasant.

He’d said the supplies were in his nightstand, but that’s well out of your arm span, so, thinking quickly and not wanting Jungkook to feel uncomfortable, you pull your fingers out gingerly, bend down and spit directly onto his winking hole, some of it disappearing inside as the rest runs down to his balls.

Since he insisted he could take it, you hook three fingers inside him, his hole stretching around you as he groans. There’s so much pressure on your fingers as you plunge inside, the friction aided by your saliva, and you can feel the way he tries to relax himself, clenching periodically.

As much as the spit helped, you become paranoid that it’ll dry out again as you stretch him on your fingers. Still too far from the lube, the thought occurs to you that you could keep him wetter if you just used your mouth.

The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to you. Sure, he doesn’t have the same nerves that make you feel so good when someone goes down on you, but you’re sure he’d enjoy it, and you’re reassured that he’d cleaned himself.

The second your tongue traces his rim, pressing between the tight ring and your knuckles, Jungkook gasps, before letting out a moan so high and keening that you practically salivate.

With your free hand inching around to grip his thigh and steady yourself, you press your chin between his ass cheeks and lap at him, fingers speeding up now that they’re better lubricated.

His hips won’t stay still, but you can’t blame him. From the constant trail of cries and whimpers, there’s no doubt Jungkook is extremely sensitive. Slowly, the thought of stretching him out for a purpose leaves your mind, and you begin to take your time with him, enjoying the feeling and sound of him falling apart from your touch.

You could get used to this; the meaty thighs trembling, the heaving breaths, the moans of your name on his tongue. At one point, your middle finger grazes a slightly protruding spot inside him, a different texture to the rest of his walls. The second it does, he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Aha.

Oh, fuck, feels s-so good, please do that again, fuck,” Jungkook babbles hopelessly. Your grip on his thigh quickly morphs from steadying yourself to holding him steady, as he jerks with every repeated stroke of your finger against his prostate.

Unable to respond verbally, you stiffen your tongue and push it deeper inside him as your fingers speed up, all corkscrewing directly towards that sensitive spot.

So noisy that he buries his own face in the blankets, rocking back desperately onto your face and fingers, Jungkook’s pleading and praises are garbled, one long stream of need until he finally lets out one loud, sharp cry and paints the mattress white.

Lifting yourself up to watch him cum, you speed up your fingers to ride him through it, devouring the sight of his red, untouched cock twitching and shooting ropes of cum as his whole body shudders with it.

There’s the undeniable warmth of pride in your chest at watching him cum so beautifully, at hearing and seeing the pleasure you’ve given him. You’d give anything to make him cum at your hands over and over, and in the back of your mind you marvel at how so many things the guys did to you when they dommed you make sense now.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, chest heaving rhythmically as he catches his breath, going slack. You guide him to roll over onto his back, avoiding the puddle of quickly-cooling cum, and sit beside him brushing back the hair that clings to his sweaty face.

A dopey smile puffing up his cheeks, and eyes hazy, he blinks up at you. “That was so good,” he breathes.

Keeping your voice sweet, you raise a brow. “Do you think we’re done just because you came, Gukkie? don’t think so.”

His smile falters, eyes regaining some of their clarity. “I- Oh, you didn’t- Do you want me to…?” he trails off, eyes falling down to between your legs, still fully clothed.

Though you’d love for him to make you cum - truth be told, your nerves feel like they’re working doubletime right now, and you know it wouldn’t take much - you shake your head, standing up off the bed. Jungkook whines and sits up slightly as you pull away, but freezes once you begin to undress in front of him.

Unbuttoning your shirt, you feel his eyes follow your movements hungrily. “I never even gave you permission to cum, baby,” you point out. “I also didn’t ask you not to, so I won’t punish you. But you did ask for me to fuck you and make you feel better.” The fabric of your shirt falling to the floor, you leave your bra on and slip off your pants instead. “So I don’t care how sensitive you are or how many times you cum, I’m going to fuck you until you feel so good you cry. Is that understood?”

Where such vulgarity came from you don’t know, but it triggers the right reaction, Jungkook going limp against the bed, grabby hands flexing at the sheets as he nods as quick as he can, one drifting dangerously close to his still half-hard cock. “Please, I wan’ it. Yes.”

“Wait patiently, then,” you command in a cutting tone, discarding your underwear without ceremony, “and no touching.”

He lets out a quiet huff, leg kicking out and hand slipping under his back to stop temptation. You would laugh at the bratty display - or perhaps even punish him for the attitude - but you’re too focused on stepping into the black harness of the strap-on you got from  Jungkook’s nightstand, working out how to tighten the straps and sit it right.

It takes you a moment to get right, but it’s surprisingly comfortable once you get it into place - which probably is the point. Though it’s odd feeling weight extending from your pelvis, the dildo is supported by a leather belt-like strap that runs around your waist. Right on the outer line of each hip, adjacent straps run down, under the curve of your ass and connect to the central one that sits between your legs like panties, albeit narrow and stiffer than fabric.

You’d seen ones with a second dildo facing inwards to go inside the wearer as they fucked someone else, but this didn’t have one, so instead your only stimulation was the slight heat when the leather would drag against your swollen clit. Happy to forgo your own pleasure for the sake of pleasuring Jungkook, you reach in the nightstand drawer again to pull out the lube.

Unlike Hoseok’s travel-sized bottle, the base of the drawer is littered with sample size packets of multiple brands. Mixed in with foil condom packets, you spy oil-based lubes, water-based ones, some scented, self-heating, even one that claims to be strawberry flavoured. Reaching for a basic water-based one, you rip it open and use it to slick up the dildo.

Jungkook watches you raptly, hips wiggling against the be