Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jimin ‘massages’ the back of your scalp with his nails when you hesitate. Whether it’s meant as encouragement or force, you can’t get yourself to make the move he wants, to budge. You just eye the stain with large, flickering eyes and grow red in humiliation as you shake your head in his hand. You want an out. 

“Jimin—Jimin…” 

“Hm?” 

“I can’t.” You gulp.

Doesn’t he know that? Why do I expect any mercy?  

“It’s…”  

Embarrassing? Shameful? Demeaning? All of the above.

Your fingernails dig deliciously into Tae’s thigh, making him suck in a soft breath. Yours is hot against his pants. 

“Oh—is it beneath you, to clean up after yourself?”

You don’t have an answer for him. Not the right one. 

“How else are you going to make up for what you’ve done?” 

“Hyung,” Taehyung’s voice slips out as you try to look up, only barely. “I have a super kind suggestion.” 

“Shoot,” Jimin allows it, observing how you try so hard not to shake. 

“She can make up for it in other ways, right?” 

“Depends.” The answer falls easily off of Jimin’s plump lips. He continues to stroke your hair. “Just spit it out.” 

“Let me taste her,” Tae begs, “that’s all I want. Please.” 

Rapid heat floods your system like a warm wash over. What? Did I—what?  

You make a strangled sound in your throat when they move. Jimin pretends to mull it over, because next thing you know, he’s telling Tae words you don’t need to hear and making decisions that should be yours.

“Go ahead and play with her, just don’t make her cum.” 

Jimin pulls you back by the hair, bringing you to his chest again. It hurts, the tugging, but he doesn’t care as he helps slide your body down the couch with Taehyung’s hands on your legs. 

“He’s allowed, right? After letting his tongue past one set of easy lips…” He says this just as his friend spreads your legs and scoots down the length of the couch to lay down comfortably. “It’s not so different, is it? Or maybe it is.”

“It’s better,” Yoongi replies, hand on the leg that dangles off the couch. 

You can feel laughter trickling against your ears, as Yoongi joins in the comradery. Jimin senses you tense up before you do and makes sure to take your wrists in his hands with extra measure. Clouded by the weed’s clout, you weren’t much of a threat until your little outbursts, good and bad. 

To Taehyung, you’re easy right now, like prey. Sweet, tantalizing, and absolutely asking-for-it. What else is he supposed to assume, gazing down at your wet heat, seeing it shine and glisten, just beckoning him to possess it? It took him less than a glance down at his straining crotch to see the mess you made out of yourself in such short work. Wet like you’ve never had a mouth on your throbbing pussy. That gets him hard.

He wastes no time putting his lips on you, specifically the crease of your inner thigh. He gives it a few kisses and nibbles, just to see you squirm underneath his arms; arms that anchor you to his parted lips. You’re not going anywhere without his explicit permission, that much he’s decided. 

Taehyung moans, his luck unbelievable. The second his tongue swipes through your folds, he nuzzles in to get more of a taste, teasing the surrounding area with a sigh of contentment. The noise that leaves him is so deep, so jarring, that it makes you want to look at anything but the man currently forcing his mouth against your awkward roll of the hips. 

You didn’t have time to say yes, or no. Why is it too late? You try to pull your hips back, bit by bit, to get Taehyung or anyone to listen, but it doesn’t work. Fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs and ankle to secure you. The sound that leaves you is pathetic. 

“Tae—Taehyung, please,” you plead. You don’t recognize your own voice. Has it always been that far away from me? 

“Hey Yoongi, do you hear that?” Jimin asks.

“I do.”

“Sounds like someone’s using their manners, just incorrectly.” Jimin goes on, stroking the pulse points on your wrists. “Please what? ‘Please give me more, Taehyung’ like earlier, when we were gone?” 

“No, that’s not, that’s not, Ji—!” you cry out a little too loud, jumping when Taehyung swishes his tongue underneath the underside of your clit. He smiles like the dirty man he is when he finds it, careful not to overstimulate it too much when he nudges it back and forth. As badly as he wants to make you cum your brains out, he’s distracted by every surreptitious rise and fall of your chest. It doesn’t matter where your hips go, it leads him on.

It’s a dirty feeling, knowing what yet another man’s tongue feels like. It’s one thing to have kissed Taehyung, sure, but this? It feels wrong, like it was never meant to get this far. Never meant for it to escalate this quickly. 

What was I even thinking?  

Maybe you should have done what Jimin told you to do in the first place and clean your mess in time. You should have taken the loss for what it was, the humiliation, everything.  

“Stop it,” you whine, high and out of your mind with pleasure and guilt. Taehyung’s tongue feels like magic, and it shouldn’t. Because it’s a shame that you’re so windable. All you see are endless brown depths when you gaze up and catch Jimin’s muddled eyes. “I don’t want to, to…” 

Your mouth parts, barely wordless, brows scrunched as you near your next orgasm. Taehyung flicks your clit eagerly, watching with eyes big enough to drink you in. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and when Jimin tells him to stop—eyes glued to yours—he regrets doing so, but he listens, nonetheless. The noise you make sounds strangled and deeply confused when he pulls away, just as he licks his lips of your taste. 

“What’s wrong?” Jimin peers down at you inquisitively. 

How dare he play me like that. That’s what you think as your eyes harden, burning from the inside out. You won’t look at him, so you look to your side, where a quiet but intimidating Yoongi remains, watching your hips stutter and come to an unbearable standstill when the action all but ceases. It’s no fun, getting strung up when you’re high, and all you have to show for it is the violent attempt you give to clench your legs shut—suppress the neediness denied release inspires.

“I… Jimin,” you say his name, trying to sound unaffected. No one misses the ache in your voice or the way you tug at your wrists, weaker than before. “This is… so wrong. Can’t you, can’t you guys see that, Yoon—” 

“I don’t see anything wrong with me putting a disrespectful girl like you where she belongs at all. I think you need the reinforcement.” Yoongi’s free hand skates up your thigh. You twitch as he dips his fingers between your even wetter folds. “Do you know where that is, y/n, ‘your place’? Do you know where you belong?” 

You give him nothing, not even a shake or nod of your head. That’s okay.

“It’s like this. Exactly as you are.” He says, playing with your pussy so casually it baffles you. “Seeing you with your legs spread open, pussy so sweet and inviting for me and my friends to play with. I fucking love it.”

It’s bad. How he sounds, how he talks, how he moves around you. Maybe it’s the weed, but his voice sounds like silk or velvet over a soft speaker as filth rolls off his tongue. It gives you goosebumps that won’t go away. All you can do is pull your hips back, which leads you to scooting up against Jimin and ignoring the implication of Yoongi’s confession.

“Come on, don’t run away from me,” Yoongi teases, causing your face to fill with the same liquid fire in your pelvis. It’s only a simmer, but you don’t want Yoongi to touch you, to excite you. To make you feel so good, only to take it away and leave you with the awful aftermath of a ruined orgasm. You handled two, you don’t want three. His fingers come anyway, as Taehyung holds your hips in place. Wherever Yoongi seeks, he gets there. You gulp when his fingers prod lightly at your entrance in a tight circle. “How are you going to deprive me of this right here? It’s already inviting me in.” 

Yoongi knew he was giving you hard pieces to swallow. Some pills larger than others. He sees your face go through disappointment, confusion, and now, being distraught as his words filter through you. You know arguing hasn’t worked with Yoongi so far, but still, you need to try. It isn’t easy to think when he teases you like this, circling around your hole. “One finger or two?” 

“One finger, if you’re gonna,” Jimin chimes in, “because you’re a gentleman.”

You disagree. 

“Leave me alone,” you say, exasperated and overwhelmed. You can barely draw your legs in with Taehyung and Yoongi as a team in keeping them spread open. You don’t notice the exchange of looks between them; too busy repeating yourself without having it matter. Taehyung moves wordlessly, lips and tongue meeting the crease of your inner thigh before he’s licking his way between your folds and to your resting clit. Yoongi’s hand slithers away, just to hastily wipe your cum on your inner thigh. You suck in a deep breath when Taehyung gives your clit a light suck, twitching. “N-no!” 

“Ordering us around... that's cute.” Jimin continues to sit comfy, speaking from above. His question is passed along to his friends, while all you can focus on is the flatness of Taehyung’s tongue and his large hands. The more he laps at you with languid strokes, the quicker your third almost-orgasm nears. It’s uncontrollable, despite all your attempts to put it off. “Tae, how’s it for you? Do you want to stop?” 

Taehyung barely removes his mouth from your pussy to shake his head. He shouldn’t sound as satisfied as he does when he tells Jimin, “No, not yet. I want more,” and goes back to licking and lapping at your soaking center. 

“Ha, you greedy bastard.” Jimin laughs as he strokes the inside of your trembling wrists. When Jimin adjusts himself behind you, all you can feel is his cock prodding the back of your head like a headache. “Go ahead, keep going.” 

“She’s so delicious, and so god damn wet.” He hums, just as he gives your throbbing clit a brief break to talk. You take deep breaths; despite how little oxygen it feels like your lungs are getting out of it. You were getting there, but now that Taehyung’s stopped you’re left in limbo, the pleasure put on pause. “Such a juicy pussy on such a sweet girl. Hyungs, you’re so lucky.” 

Both men make sounds of approval at Taehyung’s statement. You flush, unsure of your comfort level.

They are pretty lucky, and that’s why they may as well never let go, right? You could run away, if you want to prolong your own suffering. Jimin, however, wants to unzip so badly so the swell of his cock can stop brushing against the fabric of his pants. Yoongi suffers a similar dilemma, in his crouched position. 

It’s Taehyung who suffers the most. He’s gone through a lot over you, having occupied Jimin’s attention with his gushing over a faceless girl he doesn’t know. Now that he’s seen you, he understands. He completely understands. 

All he wants is a whole night with you to himself. Just one, to start. He’d spend more time finding out how wet and desperate you could get for him. Then he’d see how far your pussy could stretch around his cock when he buries himself inside you, a perfectly snug fit. He’d like to know if you’d whine and writhe on his cock like you do on their tongues. You’d cry, helpless and messy, when they take turns greedily drinking you in, and he wouldn’t care.

“What about your luck, Tae?” Yoongi asks, a peak of tongue coming to wet his lips. His voice breaks him out of his reverie. “How deep do you think it runs here?” Just as he says that Yoongi spreads apart your pussy, just to show Taehyung how soaked you’ve gotten in a matter of minutes. “Is it enough to feel how tight her little hole is? You can stuff your fingers inside and find out, but you won’t get them back.” 

You blink, scrunching your eyebrows together. Yoongi thinks it’s cute, how you pout, eyes glassy. 

“Her cunt has a hard time letting go once something’s inside.” 

You practically jump into Jimin when Taehyung seems to take Yoongi up on his offer, his fingers feeling around the sensitive rim of your hole. “Tae,” you plead, trapped where you are, “please, think before you act. Think about what you’re doing, h—” 

“Do you, half the time? I bet you didn’t even think of us when you were all over Tae. Not once.” Yoongi’s got a straight face when he reminds you of your earlier actions, and he goes as far as to rub your clit like a mean tease, knowing you can’t go anywhere he doesn’t want you. “Is it cause we mean that little to you?”

It’s a sour sensation, the way you twitch uselessly under his touch. Taehyung fingers your hole, making it flutter around the digit when it presses around the rim. Of course they crossed your mind. That’s why you wanted to stop.

“No,” you murmur, wondering how cruel one man can be. How it’s getting harder to speak. You know you’re not that—you’re not a slut. Except for when he calls you one, or tag-teams you like this so you can’t think—then you’re something. Something else.

“No,” Yoongi repeats, “do you believe that Jimin? After everything you’ve gone out of your way for her?”

The blond hums his reply, then tilts his head at you from above. “I don’t, sorry.” 

“Right. We pick her up from class… we reward and spoil her all day for her fantastic efforts… we forgive her when she ignores us.” Yoongi sighs, sympathetic to no one but him and his friends. “You’d think she’d be grateful, but we can’t trust her to be good the minute we leave her alone.” 

It stings when Yoongi slaps your cunt. You weren’t expecting it by the way you yelp. Whether it offends Yoongi doesn’t matter to you. What matters more is Taehyung’s probing tongue, licking where it stung most: your clit, as well as his fingers. It’s clear he has a goal in mind and doesn’t want to wait any longer, so he starts with his index finger and slowly drives it inside you. Yoongi hears you make a small noise, one that has a muscle in his neck twitching. You sound beautiful, though pitiful. 

“You’re harsh, Hyung. She’s a very good girl, taking it so well.” Taehyung murmurs, fascinated by how you clench around a single digit. He can only guess how good you’d feel around something bigger and better. “Isn’t that right, y/n? You were just confused. In need of some direction and guidance, so I tried to help you out.”

How are you supposed to focus on Taehyung’s words when they’re as thick and deep as his fingers? You’re not used to the smoky tone of his voice as he drives your walls apart with a second finger. He watches your next breath catch in your throat, your fists tensing in Jimin’s diligent hold. To you, it’s all the strength you have, and to Jimin, it’s barely a press of skin. You’re so gone at this point he doesn’t consider you much of a threat, being the overwhelmed lightweight that you are. 

“I think what you need is someone who tells you what to do, baby, so you don’t have to think too hard.”

“Maybe you’re right, TaeTae,” Jimin pretends to mull Taehyung’s sentiments over, though he could truly care less. All he really cares about are the fingers buried deep in your heat, where he wishes he was. He would take your mouth if he weren’t so nice, letting you keep it empty. “But a good girl still has to pay for the crimes she commits. It’s only right.” 

“Yeah.” Yoongi muses, watching Taehyung give into his urges again. He devours your pussy in a second, stroking his fingers along your walls as he smothers your cunt in testing levels of pressure. As if he’s trying to find the most effective way to drive you into clouds you won’t stay to float in. “It starts with orgasms, little girl. You don’t get to experience them unless we,” he gestures his fingers between himself and Jimin, “decide to give them to you from now on. Can you guess what you’ve earned so far?”

You feel his sarcasm, but it’s not as deep as Taehyung driving into you. “Don’t—do not try and… condescend me,” you tell Yoongi, voice cracking as those fingers curl in warning. “I’m not a child.” 

You blame it on a dry mouth. It’s a lie to say you didn’t feel the goodness, in all its devouring sin, envelope you. Despite your efforts to not enjoy any of this you stay wet between your legs, heart pounding to an uneven beat. You can’t handle the weight of this. Something so wrong has no right feeling even a little good. 

Maybe Taehyung’s right. I don’t want to think right now, I don’t want to… You mull over it, just as Taehyung surprises you with something you haven’t experienced before. After testing a few strokes of different pressures to your delicate clit, he wraps his lips around the hood of the bud and gives the smallest but most titillating suck . Language ceases for you, and all three men can tell you’re on the rise to losing it when he repeats it rhythmically. Each time you climb the staircase of heaven a little faster before getting swept under the rug.

“No, but you are weaker than me.” Yoongi puts it rather bluntly, chuckling. “I love it, though. You fight like you don’t know that. All that spirit goes down the drain.”  

You’re so pitiful. Sad, too. The way you open your mouth, only to close it with a surreptitious lick of your lips. A failure to cover up on your part. And like every memory of you, he’ll catch it and burn it into memory. A film reel of you, scandalized and uncovered.

Nor will he forget the way you roll your hips away from Taehyung’s invasive mouth, lost on where to rest your eyes. Your juices coat Taehyung’s fingers as he thrusts into your poor hole, driving you to yet another orgasm you didn’t ask for and won’t get to have in full. Yoongi flickers his eyes between your face and spread center often. You can’t help but let one thing slip from your tongue as you shout, on the verge of coming. “ You’re—all—weirdos.” 

“And you’re gonna cum if TaeTae doesn’t fucking stop,” Yoongi replies, warning the other man to not get carried away, “so stop, Tae. Pull back.” 

Before you know it, all the feel-good sensations stop, and you no longer feel Taehyung’s lips wrapped around your clit. He still hovers above you, licking his lips of your juices as he retracts his fingers. Even when he loosened you up and got you to relax, you were nice and snug around his wriggling digits, just like a second skin. He mentally groans, resisting the urge to roll his hips into the couch cushion for relief. “Do you fuck her or what?” Tae asks, rather than apologizing.

“Plenty. Why? You want to fuck this pretty pussy too, TaeTae?” Jimin asks back, letting go of your wrists. You’re perplexed when they practically drop to either side, your muscles as jaded and useless as you are. “Her hole is so wet it’s begging for it.” 

“Huh?” You murmur, trying to rise up on your elbows. You can’t. You barely move in the first place, besides the slow rise of one jelly arm. Heavy, light. You are both sides of the spectrum, lost in rotation. The sound of a zipper catching snaps your attention to the source faster than your confusion can fall out of your mouth. 

Everything—all of it—happens faster than your body can allow it. Yoongi helps spread your legs apart better, with more ease and access in mind, so Taehyung can rise up on his knees, then legs, to have better access to his aching, oppressed cock. Did you miss something?

“You, you’re, uh…” you utter, slow to understand. Slow to comprehend. Your glossy eyes can see the distinct outline of Taehyung’s cock as his fingers dance over an undone button and unraveling zipper. You can sense his urgency by how fast he gets his pants and boxers off, his hand coming down to wrap around himself, stroking in time with the rise and fall of your panting chest. He’s panting too, clearly more excited than he’s been letting on.

Tae—Taehyung is… big. Almost as big as the aching need that’s been dug into you. As thick as Jimin and as long as Yoongi. If you were overwhelmed by either man before Tae, you’re not at all confident that you can handle what’s already transpiring. Your mouth waters anyway, and you tell yourself it’s out of anxiety. Only anxiety. Not because Tae’s cock twitches when your eyes fall on it, loving the attention. You try to rise up once more, hand flailing out to stop him from approaching you and getting closer when his knees hit the couch again. His thighs nudge your inner thighs, causing you to shiver, the effort too great.

“Tae—Taehyung,” you waffle between the two forms of his name, unable to make your body behave the way you want it to now. Most of what you can do is crane your neck forward and let your hands drop between your thighs now that they are free from Jimin’s restraint. Your eyes drop from his face to between his legs, shaking your head. You’ve said it all—no, stop, please don’t. What else could you say now, when your protests only egg them on?

“H-help me, Tae! Please—please, help me…”  

A shot in the dark.

Taehyung’s going to fuck me if I don’t do anything about this. I’ll be trapped underneath him and at his mercy until he’s done with me. 

“Of course I’ll help you, baby…” Taehyung comes to you slowly, licking his lips in tandem with the mild strokes of his cock, inching closer and closer to your shining center. He has one hand on your knee, while Yoongi positions the other, making you feel circled and trapped by all three. But with Taehyung’s looming figure over you, you feel his presence the most, right as the blunt head of his cock nudges your quivering entrance. You panic, asking him how he’s going to help you, when he leans down to shut you up with a nibble to your neck. Just like fucking Jimin.

Taehyung doesn’t miss the way you barely gasp. He gets to watch your confused, glazed eyes shut to half their size as he urges his lips against your pulsing jugular. Jimin and Yoongi watch on, your interactions with their friend viewed with mild amusement and dangerous arousal. Both of them stroke your hair and skin as Taehyung takes his time teasing the tip of his cock by dragging it between your folds, careful not to cross boundaries he knows he shouldn’t. 

He never wants it to end—this moment, right before he’s bound to bury himself in your heat. He can feel your little hole flutter around him, getting it even wetter and ready for him, until he’s more than happy to force your walls to spread apart and accommodate his girth. 

They all love the strangled sound that bubbles up from your throat when the first inch enters you. Your eyes go wide, watching Taehyung as he watches you, rapt in his attentiveness. To you, his face looks… strained? Pained? Maybe you’d care if it weren’t for his cock slowly carving a space for itself inside you. Or if he had really cared to help you at all. Instead, he pulls back to bite his own lip once he’s halfway inside. “Oh my god,” he exhales, long and slow. Eyelids fluttering shut for a solid several seconds, evidently in rapture. “You feel so good, baby, so good, god…” 

“Tae…” you whine, hating yourself for the way it sounds to speak. You’re not nice.

“Jimin really did a number on you, didn’t he? All these fresh marks…” Taehyung’s voice, unfortunately, is nowhere comparable to a whine. More of a grunt as he forces another couple of inches past your clenching, wet walls. “They’ve gotta be days old. He must really like you, y/n.” 

Another inch and you whine again, jerking your hips back as you’re reluctant to take what he’s pumping. “Nuh, too much, too much!”

“No,” he grunts, forcing more of his weight onto you as he adjusts your little tangle of limbs. It doesn’t take much for him to yank your hips towards his own, leaving you no room to wriggle and run away from his offending cock. Your head practically slips off Jimin’s lap in the process, leaving you mildly disorientated as Tae manhandles your body to his liking. With his cock all the way inside, you can barely breathe, too overwhelmed by the sheer stretch, but no one takes any mind to that. 

“Does it hurt?” 

Yoongi’s voice. Your head lulls to the side, embarrassed to look at him. How can he even look at you, having had his cock in the same place as his own just days ago? Doesn’t he mind? 

I don’t understand him. I thought I… 

All you can do is hiccup your reply, a pathetic “no, but” when Taehyung gives an experimental thrust, overwhelmed himself, but for entirely euphoric reasons. Your pussy is so warm and wet and oh-so-right around his aching cock. Perfect for a man like him. He could stay inside you all day, pounding your sweet cunt until it aches, and if he plays his cards right, he just might get to from time to time. 

“ Full,” you fumble with your syllables, unintentionally squeezing around Taehyung’s shaft when the head of his cock hits deeper parts. It takes everything in you to put your hand out, grazing his stomach, “Tae—” you choke out, “ Taehyung, I’m so full, stop, stop.”     

“God,” Tae grunts as your already tight cunt spasms around him uncontrollably, “I was right. You really do look amazing hanging off the end of my cock.” 

You manage to look at him in such a way that he snickers for the first time, pressing his fingers into your hips as he pulls back. It’s for control, stability. The sweet delirium of feeling you tighten and tighten and—

“Don’t get too invested, lover boy,” Jimin snickers, joking through and through, “are you gonna screw her while you’ve got the chance to or not?” 

Jimin wants to be involved. You fell off his lap and now he’s remiss to touch you, be near you. He liked your hair, soft and splayed out across his legs. He loved your partial scent this up close, especially the heady scent of your sex. Mixing with the slick of Taehyung’s generous pre-cum due to his budding fever. So what does he do? 

He gets involved. He’ll let Tae handle you how he needs you for his maximum pleasure, and while he does that, he’ll give you the easiest out you’ll have all day.

“Jagi, I have a decision for you to make. I want you to think hard about what you want.” Jimin purses his pillow lips before briefly licking the bottom one as Taehyung begins a slow, teasing pace, causing you to hiccup another hazy, jaded reply. He couldn't get enough of your face. Your expression, it was everything Jimin needed to slap his cock all over it. He doesn’t hide his thoughts well as he pulls your chin to look at him better. “I want you to think about how much you’d rather kiss me, or my cock.” 

The first thing he notes is the unintentional? Intentional? Jutting of your lip like the poor little thing that you are. Like you almost know what your future holds for you. Makes him want to be mean, so mean. Rub it into your desolate features.

“If you don’t choose by the time Yoongi exhales, I’m gonna choose for you,” Jimin adds on like it’s the finishing touch to your slice of agony cake. 

You can’t think, you’re so full. That’s all that’s inside your dumb, cotton head: full, I’m so full, oh my God. Jimin and Yoongi were already, were already… and then, I mean now? I mean now? No, that’s not right. I can’t think straight. It’s so hard to concentrate when Tae is fucking me, god, I can’t say it, or look at it, or do this, just like Jimin and Yo—oongi—did, ah, ah! I’m so, I’m so unforgivable—

Your cheeks sizzle with heat. An unfurled inferno, just like the laden look in his eyes as he hikes your left leg over his shoulder for better leverage and effectively renders you speechless, all because of how deep he manages to piston his cock inside. Little by little your poor pussy opens up for him whether you want it to or not. You didn’t even know Yoongi had relit the joint, but it makes sense. You aren’t imagining the wicked Halo above Jimin’s head anymore. 

“That’s a rough choice. Better hurry, y/n, Yoongi’s inhaling extra deep just for you,” Tae murmurs, his voice considerably strained, Adam’s apple bopping as his cock fucks into your pussy, always a little slicker with your juices than the last time. He looks down, caught up in the way your little hole flutters around his thick shaft, quivering as he imposes himself inside you. It’s perfect, and you’re perfect, and it makes him want to swallow the greed in his heart and smother his face between your tits instead. Just to forget, to steady himself.

That’s what has him burying those hard to swallow thoughts in the tight heat of your pussy. If he were sad, he’d bury his sorrow there too. His own desires do nothing but rile him up, urging his hips to rut into you faster, deeper, with the barely concealed restraint of a man trying to take his time. With careful hands, he wraps one hand around your ankle and goes to fondle one of your breasts, loving how they move with the time of his thrusts. Yoongi does too, as he nearly exhales.

You see the smoke before you process what it means. In a smattering of seconds, you’re panicking, like a groggy hummingbird. Your half-lidded eyes blink, then blink again, your hand slowly swiping at Taehyung’s dented fingers. You look so fucked out already, struggling to find your footing, your coordination poor. You’re not as fast as you think you are, or as strong. Worse yet, you can feel the strength leave your body in slow waves, so utterly relaxed as it is. “Kiss, kiss me!”  you hiccup, biting your lip when Taehyung rolls your nipple between his fingers curiously. He watches your eyes light up, looking for Jimin’s approval, but mostly, not wanting him to put his cock in the only place you have free just yet. You can’t handle Taehyung as it is, what makes him think you could take anymore? 

It doesn’t matter how warm it felt, nestled under your head, pulsating whenever something particularly illicit was said. It doesn’t matter how thick you know his cock is, or how it felt for the first time hitting the start of your throat or the deepest parts of your pussy. Filling you up and making you feel so whole it’s almost suffocating. You shouldn’t be thinking of these things now, but you are, guilty as a criminal. Guilty as judged, too, by all these men masquerading around as well-behaved citizens.

Nothing matters, though, when you’ve never been this wet before. And that’s sad, considering you’ve had a few bed partners, so what’s up? What’s missing? Do you even want to think about it? Maybe not. Maybe it’s for the better that Taehyung’s drilling out your thoughts, little by little, with the blunt head of his cock hitting where you end, and he begins. You want to care, you want to be better, you do, you do, but it’s so hard, being everything, all the time, for everyone that you just want to— 

“Plea—ease, Jimin— Jimin, I need it,” you moan, regrettably so, along with a bitten-lipped Taehyung. He watches you, pretty as you are, looking up to Jimin with flutters of your eyelashes, like you’re begging for the lesser, less messy offense. Jimin can’t decipher which it is, distracted by the gentle curl of your lashes. How wet they are with your teary-eyed frustration. You hope saying his name incentives him, and it does. He just wants it all. The look of hunger on his face is palpable. 

“Keep it up, little slut, and Jimin’s going to eat you up,” Yoongi warns, smiling near the corners of his mouth. He’s done smoking, now that he’s got a nice, sufficient high. A cloudiness in the head he can navigate and enjoy. A pleasure he can surrender to. 

And you. Then there’s you. You don’t know what Yoongi’s facial expression means because you can’t see it, eyes locked on Jimin’s in paralyzed wonder as Taehyung just keeps giving you too much, too much, too much. You’re going to burst if he doesn’t split you in two first, his thrusts long, agonizing, spreading you thin across the softest couch you’ve ever laid on. 

You only have five senses, but now it feels like five multiplied. Your fingertips could stretch across the room, feel the texture of the wall if you wanted. Your skin melts with the honey kissed flesh of Taehyung’s as he melts with you, bringing you to a teetering breaking point. The pleasure is so overwhelming, and so much, and yet…

I never asked for this, you swallow another tethered whine as Taehyung nearly pulls out, only this time, he follows through. You’ve never felt so empty. 

But didn’t you? 

And then it clicks. 

You accepted the reassurance, the company, the drugs. The offer of sweet hands and an even sweeter mouth. You were the one who willingly let Taehyung replace your complicated, shattered feelings for a couple of two-faced boys. You made the choice to crawl into his lap. Worse yet, you felt it, even then. That unbidden heat making you wet between your folds. You wanted more, so much more. You wanted to forget; from the moment you saw him in the car. The moment you heard his disarmingly sweet voice. You knew you were going to make a mistake because that’s what you do when you’re cornered, distressed, easily impressionable—you make so many wonderfully undressed mistakes. You fuck up big time.

“Tae—” your voice ushers out from the loss, just as Jimin steals his kiss. It’s enough to make you go quiet, all except for the delectable squeak of surprise you let out when Jimin’s hand brushes your jaw. 

“Still here, little mouse? You look lost,” Jimin calls out to you, stroking the skin there, mesmerized by the smooth texture. You’re so soft everywhere and it overwhelms him sometimes, feeling better than his vivid wet dreams. It’s that thought that he surrenders to and allows him to move against your startled lips a few more times, encouraging you to kiss him back. Because you asked for this. You. Asked. For. This. With your own lungs and words and Taehyung’s cock buried deep in your empty, throbbing cunt, you asked him to kiss you, only because it was the better alternative, right?

To feel Jimin meet you with his own plush lips, soft like silk and velvet and every fabric your friends have had you touch and test and wear but nothing, nothing compares. He moves against you tentatively, at first, like he’s actually taking the time to figure you out, when really he just wants the deepest taste. It doesn’t matter that there’s an audience—he’ll kiss you like it’s just the two of you, and you’re the pretty girl he has alone for the night, ready to pounce.

And here you are, ready to be taken, again and over again. You really did go somewhere else for a while—otherwise you would have noticed that the two of them, Jimin and Yoongi, had switched places at each other’s sides. You don’t dare look away from Jimin’s eyes, not wanting to confront your elder any more than you have to right now. 

Just as you start to give in, you’re vaguely aware Taehyung lowering both himself and your leg down the couch. It feels heavy—your leg—like it’s just an attached weight and not really a part of you, and then it’s being rested over his shoulder. Is this what being high is supposed to feel like? My throat is dry. I didn’t really get it before, but now…

You think you do, but before you do, you effectively lose the thought as it comes. Jimin prevents himself from smiling as he kisses you, but he’s blissed that he’s as persuasive as he thinks he is. And god does it feel good to get you kissing back; to taste the essence of your own need, your own pleasure, and the fearful approach you take to returning his advancements. It just excites him, having you do it at all. 

 “You really are something,” he manages to whisper between pecking your lip and nipping it between his sharp teeth, “and so is this pretty, pretty mouth. Perfect for kissing, and for taking cock. Especially my cock, or Yoongi-Hyung’s cock…” He groans on the tail end of that statement. 

“Yeah, but do you think she could take three?” Yoongi jokes around, reminding you where he is. That he exists and that he’s very much nearby and beside you. “Three dicks in all her little holes?” 

“Uh-huh, if we wanted,” Jimin hums, not thinking twice nor fully of those implications. He doesn’t care because he’s diving back in to nip and lick at your lips, willing you to invite him entry. You do, though. You understand. Just as you feel a ghost of hot air gust over your neglected mound and pussy, glistening with the leftover juices Taehyung caused, you grab Jimin out of instinct when you feel a wet, willing tongue trace the outline of your inner and outer lips. 

“Don’t worry, babe, it’s just a thought,” Yoongi reassures you, stroking your hair. It sends tingles across the globe of your skull, shooting pleasure down your spine, and that wholly surprises you; the effects that ripple out, just as you don’t wholly believe his promises either. You can’t help the moan that escapes your subversive mouth, though, especially since Yoongi doesn’t stop when he starts. He keeps petting you, even as Jimin and Taehyung lick their way between both sets of your vulnerable, parted lips. Even as you hear a belt buckle undoing itself. 

It doesn’t matter if it distracts you, Jimin’s here to distract you further. With his tangling hands and fingers and the tip of his forsaken tongue. You’ll admit it—you were secretly hoping it wouldn’t get this far, with your heart hammering inside your chest like a trapped animal in a cage. It’s so hot and heavy, between Jimin and this couch. Hot like his tongue and heavy like his looming weight. It’s all too natural and easy for Jimin to lick his way past your own plump lips, just as Taehyung did, and taste you better than he ever has. His moan is edible and deeply felt, both in the ribs of your chest and a sharp shoot to your pussy, and it shouldn’t. You know it shouldn’t. But your body won’t listen to your mind. You tried.

Jimin licks the upper roof of your mouth briefly, before swiping and wrapping around your tongue. Just little grazes and brushes. A clumsy, fun little dance that he enjoys much more than he should, considering the way he nearly humps the air at the way you tremble and moan, opening up more vocally as time passes on. You’re intoxicating. Fucking delicious , he thinks.

“Tae,” Yoongi calls out conversationally, breathing evenly concealed as he strokes his dick in light, passive strokes. He’s still stroking your hair, somehow keeping even, “how badly do you want to cum?” 

“Pretty bad, why?” he says between swipes of his tongue, flat against your cunt. 

“Then why aren’t you fucking her yet?” 

“Because I’m hungry and… I’m enjoying a meal?” A blunt reply. He makes his point by wrapping his juicy mouth around your clit and lightly sucking, causing your heart and pussy to pulse at the same time. Physically, you twinge, jerking underneath him.

“Are you gonna make her cum?” 

A pause. You don’t look down—too busy kissing the invested blond above you—but Taehyung is contemplating the right answer.

“I don’t know, should I make her cum?” 

“I don’t know, do you think she deserves it?” 

“I think…” 

Another wet lick of Taehyung’s tongue across your clit. Another wet suck that leaves you gasping, just as Jimin finally, finally gets riled up enough to move on to kissing other parts of your face. Your cheek, your jaw, the fine line of your neck and up again. There isn’t a part of you he wouldn’t willingly mark some of his favorite colors. You try to close your lidded eyes shut and crane your face into the crook of your neck, but Jimin won’t have it. He keeps you where he wants you, while Yoongi interrupts Tae.

“Do you think that you deserve it more?” 

That lights up Taehyung’s interest. Of course he deserves to cum. In a wet, tight little hole. Preferably yours.

“Yeah—” 

“Why?” 

“Because you love me, with all your heart?” 

“And?” 

“Because I love you, with all my heart?” 

Jimin busts up in a laugh, mid-bite to your collarbone, and finishes with a lick of his lips. Taehyung sure thinks he’s cute, even in performative situations, and Yoongi thinks he’s pretty cute too, considering how much he’s letting him get away with. He’s really, truly lucky, and it’s completely under the crunch and protection of him being so fucking pretty. 

The worst yet is that he knows it.

And Yoongi smiles, just a curl of his lips, knowing. 

“Y/n,” he looks down to you. Just having him say your name has you meeting his eyes, brown and pretty and lashes long. Why’s he gotta look at you like the setting sun on an endless, hopeless day? “how’s your pussy? It’s pretty sad and empty, isn’t it? With nothing to keep it warm.” 

Taehyung agrees, two of his fingers circling your pulsing entrance with furtive anticipation to Yoongi’s words. The little entrance puckers around the tips of his digits, welcoming him in easily enough, and he blames you for having sucked them inside in the first place. To you, sad as it is, it’s little to nothing. 

It’s not enough. Sure, it’s full—but it’s not as fulfilling as the stretch of Taehyung’s deliciously thick cock. Another wave of arousal rushes through you at the unbidden thought and you’re not sure what’s come over you, but you’re not in love with it. You’re aroused, yes, but oh-so-fucking scared of your own thoughts.

“Answer me,” Yoongi beckons you. 

“No—no,” you shake your head. The lie easily rolls off your tongue. 

“I see.” He says. “I guess not. Tae, you can take your fingers out.” 

Just as Taehyung’s curled them, delicious as it feels, he starts to slip away, causing you to tilt your chin down, whining like the not-so-honest slut that you are as a traitorous “no” crawls, and dies, in your throat. 

Yoongi still heard, loud and clear. That dying syllable was like a vase dropping in an empty room to his attentive ears, and it’s all he needs to keep his tempo going as he talks. While Jimin may be busy minding his business and sucking your tits, it’s clear to him that Yoongi’s getting off talking to Taehyung while he talks to you. He knows by the tell-tale flutter and thump of his hand as he works his cock, silent and long beside your unsuspecting head. 

“That’s what I thought—you’re sad and empty without a good cock in you and that’s a shame,” Yoongi tells you, lifting your chin up. He’s smoldering again, and that’s when— thump, thump, thump —that you catch on to his minute actions, blushing ten-fold upon your apparent realization. “You know what else is a damn shame?” 

“… What?” 

You answer, a hiccup and a fine line between meek and far gone. Gone by the way Taehyung can’t seem to get enough of playing with your clit. Making it hard and puckered and begging to be played with until you’re crying for it to end. Bringing you to new heights is easy now, considering the times you’ve been denied an orgasm already. Taehyung smiles, knowingly, pulling back for a brief few seconds to give you a chance to breathe. It won’t last long. 

“That you’re a shitty liar.” 

You swallow. Should you be offended? It’s bad to be a liar , your heart reminds you, which only makes you feel worse. 

“I bet you spend all your time too afraid to ask for what you want, deep, deep down. Aren’t you tired?” 

You don’t even get the chance to reply, choking on a startled moan as Taehyung does what he does best: distract you with his pretty, pretty mouth. He’s not afraid to get your pussy wet by any means, happy to be where it’s sweetest, and he’s certainly not afraid to hold your hips down when you start to run away from everything and everyone—Taehyung’s tongue on your sensitive clit, Jimin’s sharp teeth, and Yoongi’s blatant desire. 

“Tae—Taehyung!” You cry out, hands coming to pull at his hair. He couldn’t care less to have it mussed up, and groans gratefully instead when you weakly yank him away. 

“Tae.” Yoongi calls out, too, but for different reasons. Still, the man keeps going, eyes closed, mouth moving at the perfect rate of suction. 

“Tae.” Again. More stern. Yoongi stroking his cock slows, like he can’t keep going, otherwise he’ll explode too soon, and he can’t have that. Just like he can’t have Taehyung going off-fucking-course because he’s also invested in some tangible pussy.

Finally, Tae pulls off, right as you try to kick and squirm and whine for all you’re worth. Your fourth, fifth, how many? lost orgasms and you’d like to throw in the towel, God, if they’re listening. If they care. It’s hard now, willing away the light sheen of sweat that covers the temple of your forehead. Some parts of you are drier than others, but for the most part, you feel hot and overheated.

“Sorry, you were saying?” he apologizes, licking his lips. “I’m listening.” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes. 

“You’re lucky she’s easy right now.” Yoongi drawls, like that isn’t… insulting.  

“Just like you’re lucky you can be useful when you want to be.” Ouch.  

It’s no sweat, Taehyung doesn’t take any offense. He’s got thick skin for Yoongi’s sharp jokes, and a pretty distraction laid out before him. Getting up on his elbows, his interests have changed, and he gets back up with the intent to fuck you. One of the benefits of taking the time to stop and eat you out means he didn’t cum too soon, clenched by your vice-like heat, but he misses it now, and that’s what makes him act nice. Your pussy isn’t yours in this situation, it’s his friends, and he ought to know that well. 

It’s easy, rubbing the head of his cock, angrier and pinker than before, against your slick entrance. He rubs it between your lips, letting them slide across and kiss the first pleasure-stricken inch of his length, and doesn’t fail to nudge your clit more than a few times so you’ll squirm from the stimulation, the pleasure. Taehyung bites his lip and a moan back, until he takes the plunge and starts to push back inside you. 

“Fuck, it’s so good,” he groans, the syllables long and drawn out, as he fills you up, fast. His cock throbs inside you from the pressure and tension, coating your inner walls with his leaking pre-cum. He’s been hard the entire time. Since he saw you, since he laid here, licking your pussy like a masochist when he could have been chasing his own high. You just lay there, gasping at the solid weight thrusting inside such a vulnerable, protected place, your hands going to grip anywhere, anything. “Yeah, touch me too, baby. Hands on me.” 

Your hands land at your stomach, leading to where you two connect. Where Taehyung grips you by the hips and drives them together. You grab his hips, as a means to make him slow down, but it only urges him on. His body falls forward when he sees Jimin pull away, satisfied though impatient, if the way his hands pry his pants open is any indication. Yoongi, for a split second, isn’t distracted by you, but Tae. 

Taehyung and his hand on, or near—who cares?—his thigh. His thigh and open pants, cock bare and throbbing and demanding attention. It’s intimate, and for a second, he’s keenly aware of that and how close the both of you are to him, and then there’s the way you keen underneath Tae and it plants something deep and dark. 

“Stay still, baby. You’re not going anywhere.” Tae tells you, taking a moment to get your hands out underneath him. He gently reprimands you by pushing them away and aside, just so he can gyrate his cock a little deeper, ass flexing as he does so he’s buried nearly to the hilt. “I wanna fuck you for a while, so lay back and relax.”  

His voice lowers, just as his head does, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Forcing you to look Jimin’s way.

“Tae, no—it’s too… you can’t just do whatever you want to me,” you plead with him, even though you’re looking at Jimin. Jimin and the purely unholy, provocative way that he looks. His hair is as messy as his wrinkled collar and wrinkled, pulled off pants, having gotten tired of wearing them. Now he’s left in just his shirt, sitting on the clean side of the table with his legs spread wide, cock hard and weeping. Jimin can see how your eyes do a full top to bottom scan of his visage, stopping between his legs, marveling at the thickness and muscle definition of his thighs. He’s… no, he’s not attractive, he’s mean. 

“I’m my own person.” Your voice bounces with every blatant thrust.

“Are you?” Tae grunts, sticking his tongue out so he can lick over the same skin Jimin’s lavished his tongue with. He can smell the blond’s fragrance all over you, perfuming the air. “Cause your pussy is so good at pulling me in, god…”

“No, Tae,” your bottom lip trembles as your fingers skim along his sides, making him shiver. “You’re not— listening. You’re…”

“I’m what?” 

You swallow, saliva thick. “Everyone just…” You whisper begrudgingly, even as the word has you clenching around his cock yet again, “... stop making me say things.” 

Taehyung doesn’t like your answer. The sharp nip of his teeth says it all, making you vocalize your distress. “Say it,” he thrusts, pulling halfway before fucking in, voice cracking, “can’t help you if you don’t.” 

“You’re not,” you blink back your need to rapidly shake your head by whining pathetically. Taehyung isn’t going to help me. He isn’t helping me now. When it’s apparent he’s just going to keep going, you give in, wet in many places. “It’s too… you’re too… everything, and it aches. It aches so much.” 

You’re overwhelmed, that’s clear. It’s confusing and new for you but delighting to Taehyung, who’s sinking into the soft curves underneath him. He barely needs to fuck you in the state you’re in, squirming and clenching around his shaft without thought, so he can focus on the pleasure it draws to his tightening balls. It’s incredible, seeing you get high from his weed and then get fucked on his cock. He could keep doing it.

“Shit—you’re so hot,” Taehyung focuses on his words as he draws back his hips, fucking at a pace that makes him happy. A pace that threatens to pick up as he talks, his hands coming to brush the messy hair out of your face so everyone can see you better. “Do you whine like this for my Hyungs too?” 

Shut up, you think, tucking your chin. “Shut…” you get out loud. 

“I bet you do,” He pulls his face back slightly, unhindered. Lashes brush across your cheek. He goes for your ear, tongue peaking, having already internalized the choked sounds you made around Jimin’s cock in one of the few videos so fresh in his memory. “I want you to beg for me.” 

Taehyung pulls away to look at you, face inches from yours, and slows down his hips for a fraction of a moment. He looks at your mouth first, fantasizing, then follows your unbelievably lit eyes.

“Beg me to fuck this dripping cunt down here.” Taehyung brushes his mouth against yours, to which Yoongi narrows his eyes. Is he… okay with that? 

“Taehyung, you can’t be serious,” your eyes widen, in disbelief at how utterly filthy he’s becoming. “I’m not gonna…” 

“You’re going to do whatever he says, actually.” Yoongi clips in, agitated. He lets go of his cock, which up until now, he was on the verge of keeping himself perfectly on edge. But hormones do crazy things to a person already under the influence, and that influence leads to a spark of irritation. “That tight little hole between your legs is his until he’s done with it, or until I decide he’s done with it.” 

“Yoongi!” You shout, voice thin. This is it—this is it . You can’t believe what you’re hearing, what he’s spoon-feeding you. Everything goes against his, his… “That’s not right!” 

“Does it look like I care? Of course it’s right. His right is to fuck you because I said so.” Yoongi snarls, causing you to freeze, even as Taehyung can’t help but feel addicted to the way your pussy milks his cock on every plunge. “And when he’s done with you, I’ll make sure Jimin and I fuck you stupid for questioning it like a dumb girl.”

“I’m not…? Yoongi—”

“If you’re going to speak, then beg.”

“Yoon—”

“Did I stutter?”

“I don’t care! I’m not fucking dumb!"

It happens so fast. Yoongi grabs your useless wrists and gathers them across his lap, so they are secure, and his. You pull and he squeezes them with one hand. When you pull even harder, he gets you to wince with the strength of his grip around both your wrists. “Tae, I’ve been thinking.” 

“Yeah?” Taehyung grunts, pretending he’s far too distracted by the way Yoongi stretches you out to look at his friend. It’s been a long-time since he’s felt an orgasm build so fast and so fiercely, but he’s hoping Yoongi is kind. That Yoongi will let Taehyung enjoy you to the fullest extent, otherwise he might lose it. 

“When’s the last time you got off?” A beat. So nonchalant. 

“Yesterday,” Taehyung winks, smooth. 

“And when’s the last time you got off in a stupid slut’s little hole?”

Taehyung bites his lip, grunting. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a reminder.” 

“I wouldn’t mind a show,” Jimin nudges Taehyung with his hand, the other never having left his own lap. Jimin isn’t shy about looking at you all over either.

“Feel free to cum wherever you want if she’s not going to beg yet,” Yoongi finalizes, to which Taehyung can’t hide his slow expression of glee. It makes both your guts do summersaults, like he won a prize and you won: a condition . Yoongi doesn’t let up, though. He has to rub it in. “You know, since she doesn’t care.”

“Hyung, you spoil me,” Taehyung sighs, throwing his head back and hips in.

Now that he’s gotten express permission to do whatever he wants with you, he’s not going to hold back. His grip is nearly bruising now as he prepares to make a permanent home for himself inside your cunt. And indeed, he doesn’t hold back—you feel the difference in his force, in his passion, the second the other set of curtains drop, and now he’s driving his cock into you like you’re just lying there, stretched out to please him. 

“Hear that? Hyung’s so nice, letting me pound this pretty cunt. It’s too bad you’re being difficult,” Taehyung pulls out all the way on the next thrust, causing you both to part your lips and gasp. He’s alarmed by how angry and red his cock head is, desperate to shoot its load. With trembling fingers, he guides it to your little hole once more and thrusts in his entire length, causing you to try and stretch your legs out, kicking the heels of your feet against whatever it can. Taehyung doesn’t relent either way, going on. “Difficult and so fucking hot. God , again . Your pussy is so tight. Do that again. Make me cum, slut.” 

You don’t know what ‘that’ is. All you know is that your clit is about to explode with the angle Taehyung keeps pounding your dripping cunt. Every thrust inside has his pelvis applying just the right amount of pressure to your mound to make you conflicted, aroused, and tearfully in ruins. For Taehyung, ‘that’ is the spasming of your vaginal walls unconsciously milking him of his cock for more, more, more. As much as you can’t admit it, your body is so hungry and deprived. Touch-starved.

“No, no, no,” You hiccup and repeat with every bump of your hips, yanking on your arms. Yoongi’s grip remains bruising, his jaw ticking, but his cock is still hard from the visual stimulation of seeing your tits bounce all over the place.

“It’s like you want me to, with the constant spasming around my dick.” Taehyung groans, his hair beginning to fall further in his vision. “Is that what you want, baby? For me to empty my load right—in— here?” 

“Please, please don’t,” you have no choice but to blink back tears at this point. It’s happening all over again and like before, you have no control over what happens to you, to your body, to anything.

“Huh?” Everyone asks at once. Taehyung elaborates, even as he’s openly panting, ready to blow. “Can’t understand you.” 

“Please don’t cum in me—”

“Sorry?”

“I said please don’t cum in me!" 

Taehyung practically purrs, moaning. “Where am I gonna cum, then? Are you gonna offer me someplace better to get off in?” 

“My chest,” you willfully suggest, but when Taehyung ponders it for far too long to be hopeful of him taking it, you offer up another far more begrudgingly, even though you’re hesitant to suggest it at all. “…my mouth?” 

“Ah, just your mouth?” Yoongi coo’s, like it’s something cute you’ve just said and not that you just said you’d like his friend’s cum in your mouth . As an alternative—and just that. Not because you really want it. You may have kissed Taehyung, even let him put his tongue somewhere, but you’d never have let him do this on the fly. Never. 

I’m not easy. 

“Is that good enough for your cock, Tae?” Yoongi presses. 

“I don’t know,” the other man shrugs, half-gone as it is in the feel of your fleshy walls hugging him perfectly, “maybe you should try begging, baby. Might butter up the idea and make it more appealing.” 

“Beg, Jagi,” Jimin huffs, sounding impatient and hurried, like he wants to cum too, “before it’s too late.” 

Hammering. Like a mouse caught in a trap, your heart has you dizzy and burning with a hurried sense of urgency to get out of this, anyway you can. You feel yourself talking back, gaze avoiding Yoongi’s. 

“Please, please cum—please cum in my mouth, Tae,” you chant to Taehyung, a little meeker against each harsh grunt he gives as he pistons his hips into you, affected by your pitch and inflection. “Please!” 

“Show me,” Tae grunts, nails digging into your skin sharper than you’d like, but you bare it, flinching as you take every torturous inch, “how badly do you want my cum?” 

“Bad—badly!” 

It aches. Your pussy is pulsing, but what for? There’s as tight of a feeling in your lower gut as there is in your chest. 

“And if I wanted you to swallow it all?” 

You squeak when all it seems Tae’s doing is getting a tighter hold of you. That’s not getting ready to cum in my mouth at all. 

“Then I’ll swallow,” you relent, knowing it’s what he wants to hear, “if that’s what makes you happy.” 

You brace yourself for the pull-out. The ‘reward’ of having his cum after giving those magic words. But the pull out doesn’t come any faster than the relentless pounding of Taehyung’s powerful thighs.

“If that makes me happy,” he repeats, savoring the filthy admittance, “god, you just make me wanna…” 

Of course, the praises follow. So does the sharp, sudden halt of Taehyung’s hips. They still completely, just as he stops himself from dropping his entire weight on you once he’s fully given in. 

“… fuck you full, twice, three times. Never wanna leave this cute cunt. Also, I loved your performance,” he practically sings that part, staying as still as possible. He just wants to enjoy the feeling of letting his cock throb and pulse inside you, unloading spurts of his pent-up arousal all day, for as long as he can stand. “But I felt it was a little lacking. I know you’re a better cock slut than you give yourself credit for, and you can beg much better than that. So, I’d rather unload in you instead.” 

Cheeky. His eyes are heated and full-on cheeky. Victorious, even. Like there’s not a damn thing you can do or say to him that could tear him down—not when his cock is still just as thick and hard inside you, unloading. Taehyung gives little thrusts to help stimulate the flow, loving the idea of having it leak out of you when he’s done.

“But you said…” you murmur, bottom lip threatening to tremble as Taehyung enjoys his last moments of release before pulling out. These men are full of nothing but empty promises. Or are you just stupid, feeding into them?

“Oh no,” Jimin coos, bringing you out of your feelings. His eyes have a hard time figuring out where to look—your face, or the cum slowly leaking out of your poor pussy? How about the satiated glow that’s taken over Taehyung’s handsome form? Taehyung, who gestures the blond over with the tiniest flick of his head as he stops some of his cum from leaking between your ass cheeks, but it’s hopeless. He didn’t expect there’d be so much.

Jimin’s over in a hot second. Neither male acknowledges the state they’re in—the fact that Jimin’s naked from the waist down, hard to his belly, and Taehyung, if he were being entirely honest, would fuck his cock back to hardness in your cunt if it was his turn again, but it’s not. 

It’s Jimin. 

And Jimin has plans for you, having sat through that whole ordeal biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t ruin his fun early and cover you in his early release. The blond comes to Tae’s side easily, sliding his hand between your legs and resting it near your lips. It’s mostly there to pull the skin around it aside, so more of Taehyung’s load, creamy and thick, escapes. “Damn, Tae. You did a good job, making our girl all messy.”

Taehyung laughs. He’s not too sheepish about it. You’d close your legs if you had the energy, and if they would cooperate with you, but they won’t. Less and less your body follows your mind. It’s safe to say that weed, for it being a gateway drug and all, is damn effective at keeping you under.  

Jimin couldn’t be more thankful for the turnout. “Y/n…” he gets closer, eventually gesturing for Taehyung to switch places with him entirely. Which Taehyung does, easily enough, taking the warm spot left on the forlorn coffee table. It’s a mess, a lot of the items pushed to the side. Jimin stuffs his finger in you so he can scoop some of the cum left behind, only to force more of it out. “How was it?” 

“Jimin…” your voice is strained, but it still has the color to be embarrassed by Jimin’s boldness.

“Taking Tae, I mean. I bet it felt good.” Jimin goes on. “He’s big, right? Thick?”

You try yet fail to hide the blood coloring your cheeks, and Jimin thinks there is nothing but potential looming above your disheveled hair. He licks his lips, asking, “Did it feel better than Wednesday?” 

Jimin, don’t. Don’t bring that up. Please, if you have a… 

“Wednesday?” 

Taehyung perks up. Everyone watches you stiffen. 

“Wasn’t that your bible study whatever night?”

You don’t think, nor do you act. You do the time-old trick of turning your face towards the sofa rather than watch the horrifying realization take over Taehyung’s youthful features and freeze . 

“Wait, did…” 

There it is.

“Did you…? Y/n.” 

He’s calling me, please stop. Don’t talk to me, I don’t want to talk.

“Did my hyungs give you all those hickeys Wednesday night?” 

You don’t care to answer, or so you convince yourself. You won’t answer, ever. You’ll hold onto whatever shreds of dignity you have left here. Nothing could possibly ruin your resolve, except for the blond between your thighs, and all that he’s doing with his fingers. Worse is on the horizon for you. 

“Wow,” Taehyung draws out, but before he can say what he wants to say, you cut him short. 

“Can you please…” you tell him, quieter than you’d like. It’s just hard to talk when your throat is vibrating with anxiety. “… just stop talking?” 

“Sorry?”

“Stop talking. Please.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything bad…” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“But—” 

Louder. Your voice is louder. Jimin’s stopped what he’s doing. Yoongi hasn’t let go. Your arms are tired, sore. You take it for granted when Yoongi lets your wrists loose and hooks his fingers under your jaw.

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” 

Taehyung pouts. Yoongi clicks his tongue. “Tired of talking?” 

You look up, and there he is, in all his uncharted glory. “Y…” You trip over your thickening tongue before swallowing it whole. You hate how intimidated you feel by him whenever he puts you in a spot. “I don’t want to talk to you either.” 

“That’s so sad,” He mock pouts, caressing your jaw as he has it in a squeeze, “and in many cases, I don’t think it’s true at all.” 

Shaking your head doesn’t change his mind either. He just carries on the conversation.

“Thirsty?” 

Your confusion is cute. 

“You look like you need something to wet your mouth with.” 

Nimble fingers squeeze your jaw until it hurts, forcing your mouth to open slightly, your confusion multiplying. 

“Yeah, she does look pretty thirsty, Hyung.” Jimin sides with Yoongi, matching up like night and day.

Smooth and thought of countless times, Jimin takes the cum coating one of his fingers and brings it closer to your mouth. 

“Open up,” Jimin sings.

It’s at this point that you look Jimin in the eyes, mad and anxious that you couldn’t close your mouth if you wanted to. There’s only wider and wider with Yoongi’s grasp on you. The younger of the two takes great satisfaction in how you look, loving the way you struggle like this, completely intoxicated. 

“Stick out your tongue more,” Yoongi tells you, and to further convince you, he doesn’t let the pressure on your jaw let up until you your wet, pink tongue is exposed to his liking, “good. Jimin’s got a treat for you.” 

Some treat, you think, as Jimin wipes his finger there, making sure you taste every bit of it. It’s salty and tangy and you’re not sure you like it, though you don’t entirely hate its flavor either. You’ve never been sure if you’ve liked or loved the taste of cum, but that’s not the problem here. The problem is that Jimin was always supposed to be nicer than he is, like the gentle, blond cherub he masquerades as. Even now, in this moment, his hair is a little messy from running his fingers through it. 

His insides tighten just feeling your tongue, the brief inside of your hot little orifice. Your mouth has to be one of his favorite features about you. He’s always been drawn to kissable lips on people. “There, a taste should be good enough. Gotta keep you wanting more,” he winks, saddling his hips closer to your spread center. With steadier hands he brings the tip of his cock head to your leaking entrance, teasing your opening with entranced eyes. 

Jimin uses Tae’s cum like it’s free lube and thrusts his length into the hilt, choking on a grunt from the tightness immediately encasing his weeping cock. Not a second is spent thinking about how that makes your pussy feel, being fucked without a thought, but nothing matters when you’re this hot, and tight, and trying to not lose what wits you have left. It seems you’ve got half a brain left, shutting your eyes tight when Jimin circles his cock in your hole, just so he can make space for his balls to rest against your heated cunt. He deserves this. No one can convince him otherwise; with all the hard work he’s putting in.

“No,” you say, like you can’t repeat it enough. Can’t get it through their heads, or yours. The deeper Jimin rolls his hips, energetic and already primed with eagerness, the faster he fucks the cohesive complaints out of your head so there’s nothing for you to think about, just feel so deeply you drown in it. “A minute, a minute…!” 

Jimin must not have heard you. His hips keep thrusting, the upper portion of his body easily falling over yours. He’s not afraid to entirely overwhelm your senses, your frame, anything. He cages you within his chest and arms and cloying scent.

That’s a piece of what drew you to him. His fearlessness.

“You’re so wet, it’s insane,” Jimin moans, sweet and freeing. He must mean your pussy, considering the passion behind his budding disregard to your whining. Being inside you makes his mind go blank. He knew it’d be fun letting Taehyung of all people play with you, he just didn’t know it was going to affect himself this much this time around. Now he’s using his fearlessness for more devious means. 

The sweet tightness of your pussy sucking him in is enough to drive any man mad, and with hungry hands he touches the soft curves of your body beneath him, needier than he wants to let on. Needier than he typically allows. “What’s this look for?” 

You don’t know what he’s talking about, until you feel his fingers swiping at the corner of your mouth. Collecting drool. He grins, sticking his fingers past your lips when you least expect it. “You’ve got a dirty look on your face, y/n. It’s really lewd.”

All you can do is survive the up and down motion of his hips driving you back into Yoongi’s warm side, the one who lets your head hit the couch in the absence of his lap when you least expect it. Jimin pays him no attention, focused entirely on you, and his footing. After that, you lose sense of Yoongi, which is unusual for you. You’re usually hyper aware of others—but now, it’s only what you can feel.

“Looks like she’s all head empty, no thoughts going on,” Taehyung stifles a laid-back laugh. 

“You with us, baby?” Jimin asks, knowing you can’t properly reply with his fingers on your tongue. For him, it’s just fun and games and some more fun. 

“Yuh,” you reply, single syllable. You hate him for this, and for every inch of his unrelenting hardness stretching you nice and wide for his pleasure. Taehyung can’t keep his eyes off the lightning bolt eye contact Jimin has with you; the way he plays he begins to toy with you. Even though Taehyung just came, he can feel the phantom pulses of arousal in his gut each time he watches your ample chest bounce in the rhythm that Jimin drives you onto his cock, enticing the two who watch. 

“Good. I want you aware of everything that goes on,” The blond tilts his head, puckering his lips to blow a little kiss. You squint your already lidded eyes at him, making the mistake of having to swallow, and in the process, contract around Jimin’s lithe fingers. You can see Jimin’s pupil’s widen at the sight, his hips thrumming to a stutter and then a stop at the sweet point of wet suction. “Oh…” 

Why is it now or any other time, you think about him? 

When did you start to have favorite days of the week? 

Favorite outfits. Favorite habits. Like how handsy Jimin is with people he’s familiar with, always searching for a part of them with his hand. A gentle touch on the shoulder. A hand on the pec, hip, thigh. You’d be a liar to wish that wasn’t you. You just thought you were better than this.

Better than to get distracted by another beautiful boy. 

“Sucking on my fingers like that… are you trying to turn me on?” Jimin wonders, face heated. He quickly remembers to start his pace up again, pulling his fingers from your mouth and wipe them dry on your tits. His cheeks are as pink as his pretty eyelids. His eyeliner is still perfectly intact. Your pussy clenches, the meaning hard to ignore.

You’re teasing me, you want to say. You want to tell him: this isn’t me, it’s you, you, you. 

You’re the one who’s trying to turn me on.

It’s a shame, how all you can do is clench your thighs shut at the thought, wrapping them tight around Jimin’s waist and hips; his supple, round ass clenching as he pounds your tender pussy in a losing battle of his own resolve. You are careless in this state of mind; careless about the ways you use your voice and body around the man inside you and what it’s doing to him. Jimin grabs a hold of each of your breasts in his hands, the fleshy weight pleasing to touch and cup. He teases your sensitive nipples, too, rolling them between his fingers despite the way your hands clumsily brush against his biceps, trying to slow him down. 

Rather than sacrifice his own pleasure by daring to slow down, your beloved Jimin lets his carnal needs get in the way of anything above you. His eyes hungrily drink in the flush flooding your cheeks and down the length of your chest. Your nipples are hard, peaking in the spoiled air and your lips are red from being abused by everyone, including your own teeth. All Jimin wants to do is kiss you, but you’re intent on trying to ignore him by shutting his dirty image out with your eyes squeezed shut, even if you’re no good at keeping quiet. The sounds of your pathetic moaning, bordering on little sobs mixed perfectly with the sound of slapping, slick skin. 

“No, none of that shit. Look at me when I’m fucking you,” Jimin says, spreading his thighs and momentarily maneuvering your knees higher and further apart so he can get his cock as deep as he wants. Once he does that he grabs a hold of your jaw, until his hand slowly trails down the length of your neck. 

You’re nervous. And you have every right to be nervous when Jimin adds pressure to his grip. He’s gentle at first, testing your reaction to this further shift in power. Naturally, you lean your head back, wanting to get away from this crucial trap, but there’s nowhere for you to go, grounded to a set of cushions, and Jimin is pleased by this.

“You don’t need your mouth for talking, do you,” Jimin murmurs, hips fueled by the dirty things he’s telling you, “you don’t need it for anything other than pleasing someone tonight.”

Jimin’s grip tightens when you shake your head, a curl to his lip. Your spasmodic tightening has him egged on.

“Yeah, I think I’d like to see that. Hey, Yoongi.” 

Rustling comes from beside you. A belt buckle hitting the leg of a coffee table. Two and two come together when you get a glimpse of Yoongi’s bare thigh hitting the edge of the seat, his knee digging into the cushion to steady himself. Above you, Yoongi is bare from the waist down too, having discarded his pants entirely, and for that you can barely swallow. He’s hard and waiting. Your heart picks up speed. 

“Yoongi…” you hasten, elbow coming to support half your weight. Yoongi aids your effort by pulling you up by the same arm, his grip, as always, is strong and solid, like he’s never been more certain of how he wants to handle you. And now you’re face to face with his dick, your hand becoming the wedge that attempts to keep him at a distance.

“Jimin’s right, y/n. As much as I like your voice, God didn’t give you a mouth just to speak.” Yoongi says after you, deliberately calm as he strokes the length of his hard cock. It sends shivers down your spine, hearing your name roll around on his tongue. 

Your pout measures the unfairness of it all, while Yoongi measures the blunt head of his cock just in line with your lips. You turn your cheek as he guides your head to it, but all he does is click his tongue to the roof of his mouth at you in faux annoyance.

“What happened to your begging for a load in your mouth?” He does it so well, reprimanding you. Making you feel raw and hot when he’s not even inside. With added strength, he grips your hair tighter and forces you to face his dick again. “You wanted this, and now you’re getting it.” 

An echo chamber in your head. You wanted this. You asked for this. You begged for this. You, you, you. Making mistakes left and right.

All Yoongi has to do is wait for the right opportunity to exploit one. 

“I did, I didn’t—” You swallow, fucking up, voice already a mess. Jimin’s barely stopped, although he’s slowed down so Yoongi has less trouble keeping you in line. 

“Mm, you really did. You even looked into my eyes as you begged Tae to do it.” Yoongi’s smile is noticeable and gleaming, like a proud cat playing with a helpless mouse. Within seconds of you parting your lips to speak, he pulls you in and gets as far as the full head of his cock past your lips before you’re attempting to pull back on his length. No matter—he just doubles down, allowing you nowhere to go but forward. “You’re a bigger slut than I thought, but I guess you have some sensibility inside that sativa-diva head of yours, don’t you?” 

From between your legs, Jimin’s hips stir, his hands coming to caress your spread thighs as he gives slow, short thrusts to keep him hard. It won’t last forever—this pace, nor his patience—but it’s good to get lost in. Together, the corners of his mouth curl. “I think it’s something like that, hyung. I think she’s learning.” 

Even under the influence, you know when an elephant is being pointed at. It’s under the cloud of this influence, though, that you can’t get your ears to operate like they’re not made entirely of cotton. You hear Jimin, but you can’t retaliate verbally when there’s a cock stuffing the space past your lips, your tucked teeth, your nervous tongue. The man above you gives a little groan of satisfaction when he hits the back of your throat; one that doesn’t escape your hollow ears, and gives short, slow thrusts down to the base as you battle to adjust.

“We’ll see,” Yoongi says, having to collect himself from the pleasure of your warm, wet lips wrapped around his aching cock. He’s waited to feel its warmth and heat since the moment you begged for this, and now you’re spastically swallowing around it as you try to gather your bearings. He loves the way you blink back panic, confusion, and eventually, reluctant acceptance in just a few short moments of him showing you how well he can control the bob of your high-filled head.

There is no going backwards here. Not even his skin feels real as you squeeze his thigh. 

“I should’ve fucked her mouth first.” Taehyung murmurs from his part of the atmosphere. A single word says everything: he wishes his cock was getting wet right now. Wishes more than anything that Yoongi was sharing you again. 

You whimper when Yoongi’s fingers wind your hair tighter, as if he doesn’t already have you in his hands like a rag roll. It’s a perfect set-up for him—he doesn’t need you to perform the job of holding yourself up. Your hair can be used to do that. He just wants you to keep sinking down, smothered by the embrace of Taehyung’s potent Jandi. Lost in your senses. Yoongi moans when you blink back wet eyelashes several times, trying to breathe steadily through your nose. 

“That’s too bad, Tae.” Jimin tells Taehyung. For once, he pulls out more than a little at a time. This time, he pulls his cock out entirely, suddenly leaving you empty and whimpering in further confusion. A small, stupid part of you thinks that maybe he’s done with you now, for whatever reason, and your time being overwhelmingly full at both ends is over. 

You know you’re wrong when you feel the fat head nudge your swollen clit, not once, but several times. It makes you jump and pull back from the cock nudging your throat again, so Yoongi doubles down on keeping your concentration on mostly pleasing him and pulls you higher up by the hair. “Hey, who’s cock are you sucking, slut?” 

You know you can’t answer him right, gagging around the hot, hefty weight in your mouth, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be the pathetic girl you are and try anyway. Yoongi knows you’re squeezing his thigh; that you’re trying to communicate. More blood rushes to his cock at the sight of you and your struggle. His name, dripping around the corners of your mouth, is both an answer and a plea as you swallow, accidentally sucking each time you do.

Meanwhile, you can hear short, tiny huffs coming from the blond, swirling his own swollen cockhead—just as pink and as perfect as the rest of him—around your now twitching clit. He teases it, making it twitch when he flicks it across your nub a particular way, as if he’s following a pattern but not a direct goal. If anything, he’s just doing it for the sake of teasing you and your most sensitive parts together, and it’s working. 

If it feels like your nerves are on fire, so are Jimin’s. He can feel the build-up in his toned thighs and tensing calf muscles as he keeps his own building orgasm at bay. Having Jimin inside you was distracting, now you’re in pure, unadulterated distress, having him put all his attention towards rolling your little nub around like you aren’t about to cum from it. 

“She’s so pretty, hyung, hanging off you like that.” Jimin murmurs to his companion, all while admiring the way your lips slide across Yoongi’s hard cock with spit and ease. Just seeing it up-close like this has his hips stuttering and misaligning the next time he brushes his cockhead between your soaked folds, still leaking with your first load, and fucks inside you too soon. After that, he simply feels forced to thrust in all the way, groaning as he does. “But fuck, she can go deeper, can’t she?” 

Yoongi agrees, seeing as he has one of the best views possible. He’s surprised you’re still making noises around his dick, you know when you can afford the millisecond he has your head pulled back—but mostly, he thought you’d quiet down by now, and really learn the lesson being pounded into you. Accept that your place here, right now, is to be a good set of holes for them to use.

“That’s what her throat is for,” Yoongi groans, a gentle mocker under his breath. He only needs one hand to keep you upright, the other is free to pinch your cheeks together, forcing your tongue to stick out more underneath the underside of his shaft. Having full control over your mouth has your heart hammering wild and caged, with time coming to an even slower stand-still. Yoongi’s able to get another few inches past your plump, swollen lips, but not at the expense of you blinking back real tears when he keeps repeatedly nudging your throat, irritating it. 

You aren’t completely inexperienced. You know this. You’ve fooled around. You’ve had sex. You’ve sucked dick. You’ve drunk, you’ve partied, and one time, when you were far younger and even more influenced by peer pressure, you made out with a girl on a dare! You were far from inexperienced, but this? This was too much. 

You thought you knew what gentle was, and Jimin showed that through the hungry yet careful way he devoured you in a kiss. One he wouldn’t break away from often, just so he’d leave you with air to catch. Something reminiscent of previous lovers who, at worst, held your hands down but always let go when you asked, or they pulled your hair—but never as hard or as harsh as Yoongi and Jimin have. 

Now that your throat is getting stuffed with Yoongi’s cock, you have no option but to protest the only way available to you: by patting his thighs as hard as you can, urging him to give you a chance to pull back and breathe properly. As much as you’ve liked Yoongi, as long as you’ve had a silly, dangerous crush on him, you never thought he’d be the type to—to be like this. Your wet dreams before this seem so innocent in comparison and you, you feel so incapable, like you’re far behind his threshold of tolerance. 

“Your mouth feels amazing, babe, but I bet your throat feels even better. Think we can practice some more together?” Yoongi’s half-lidded eyes snap open when he says that, though he hadn’t been aware they had closed in the first place. He must have gotten lost in the wet suction of your spastic heat as he breached the back of your throat, forcing his cock in and out little by little. You gag, and sputter, and finally—although unceremoniously—he takes one look at your sniffling nose, changes his mind, and yanks you off his cock with another sharp tug of the hair. It’s funny how you can’t feel it the way you thought you would. Painful, stinging, tender-headed. It hurts, so why does the throbbing in your scalp send pulses to your fingertips and pussy? 

You sniffle even more, inhaling as deep as you can once your lungs can fully breathe in. “Yoon—Yoongi …” With shaking, sweaty palms, you try touching your lips, almost lost in a reverie. You won’t cry. You won’t. Yoongi won’t get off on your already damp eyelashes, let alone real, flowing tears. If it weren’t for your waterproof mascara, you wouldn’t look half as much together. You squeak when Yoongi puts two of his fingers in your panting mouth, making you look up into dark brown hues with a demoralizing glance.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi purrs, stroking his fingers across the expanse of your tongue, stroking until he presses down and further back. Threatening to make you gag. “Did I actually hurt you and your poor throat? I’ve barely got the tip past it.” 

It’s not that it hurt—it’s how overwhelmed you are, being stuffed twice, repeatedly, without a chance to properly breathe. You haven’t forgotten about Jimin, or the very real presence of his thick length wedging your walls, and thighs, apart. He’s taken a liking to Taehyung’s position, having one of your legs propped up over his shoulder for better leverage of your keening hips when he rotates his cock inside you. This way, he can scramble your brains every time his thumb brushes across your clit, keeping you on the constant edge of mounting frustration. Still, you shake your head and tell Yoongi no, even as he spreads his fingers for a second. 

“Then what’s the problem?” He asks, fingers put. 

You don’t know how to answer him. What’s the problem?  You don’t fucking get it. 

The problem is that I can’t fucking breathe with your cock in my throat. 

But you can’t say that when you have a mouthful of Yoongi’s fingers. 

“You’re being too rough with her, Hyung,” Taehyung speaks out loud, an itch in his voice, and a stroke elsewhere, “her throat isn’t used to being used just like a pussy yet. You gotta give her time. Get her throat to relax. Make it fun, I don’t know.” 

“What’s fun to you?” Yoongi asks of his friend. 

Taehyung makes a sound of thinking long and hard. “What is she used to? Let’s make this easier for her.”

You make a strangled sound in the back of your throat, having already worked to avoid Taehyung’s burning gaze. One small prayer of yours is answered, however, when Yoongi loosens his grip on your hair and legs go. You’re no longer trapped in his hold, unable to go anywhere he hasn’t guided you.

“Let’s start with something simple.” Yoongi must be rethinking, as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. You immediately close your lips, swallowing until your mouth isn’t so wet. “How about you give my cock a kiss?” 

Your ravisher wastes no time nudging them open again with the blunt head of his weeping cock. You can taste the tang of Yoongi’s pre-cum—more than that, you hate that it makes you shiver so badly of what’s to come. When it does, you aren’t prepared for it. “Just pretend you’re giving a loving blowjob to your boyfriend, sweetheart. So be sure to treat it with lots of love.”

You blush twice, no, ten-fold. Yoongi smears the wetness across your lips, just as Jimin sucks another hickey into the side of your ankle. “Can’t be that hard to imagine, right? You’d make a cute little girlfriend. You’re already so attentive.”

 Jimin licks his tongue across your skin, bucking into you when you tremble from how ticklish it feels. Blood floods to more than one area, listening, and even then you don’t listen well. 

“Unless you’d rather go straight to getting your throat used again?”

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, appearing to second guess his blip of leniency. 

“Nuh—no,” you correct yourself, licking your lips because it’s something to do. Because it’s all you can do. “It’s okay, I’ll…” 

I’ll just kiss it. Just like he wants. Just a kiss. Don’t think, don’t think… 

With gentle, puckered lips, you do as Yoongi requests and kiss the tip of his cock. It’s a delicate sensation. Nothing more than a flutter of wet lips. But it was irresistible, seeing you second-guess your actions as you fulfill it, and even better to view how you lick your lips in uncertainty after. That’s when you taste him on your tongue again.

“Is that… okay?” You ask, tentative. But nothing is ever going to be good enough for Yoongi the first time around. 

“It was real cute,” he tells you, eyeing your glossy pair of lips, “can you do it again?” 

Your instinct is to shake your head. Your other instinct is to nod and say yes. 

Guess which one you fall into?

“Look at you—doing so well. Picking the right answers. Go ahead and give it some more attention.”  

You do, leaning in to deliver another soft peck. Then another and another. Something that truly isn’t enough for someone like Yoongi. That’s why games exist, so he can pretend as well as you can. 

“I want to feel your tongue around it, too,” Yoongi hums, clenching his thighs when your hands caress the outer sides. He takes advantage of the rosy tint to your cheeks, hand coming to cup your cheek with an affectionate stroke. Pinching them to make the skin redder. Since there’s no going back, you stick your tongue out and collect more of his salty essence, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head a couple of elusive times. It only leaks more when you do, and when you see it, it makes you clench multiple times around Jimin’s cock. 

“Is that all?” Jimin calls out, his small, but thicker fingers gripping your hip and thigh so fiercely he might leave little bruises of his own. Jimin’s already stretching you out, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to sneak a spare finger around the rim. It teases and scares you, taking any more. “You’ve got hands now, Jagi. Be a good little girlfriend and try putting them to use.”

You understand when a simple direction is being given, lit-over-your-ass or not. With a hazy nod, your fingertips ghost across Yoongi’s groin, wrapping around his shaft with an almost featherlight touch. As if you’re scared of touching Yoongi, too. Why?

I haven’t figured that out yet. 

“Now lean in…” Jimin drawls, dragging his thrusts to the same tempo. Something he personally loves about you is your subconscious appeal to things—you look almost single-mindedly at the dick in your mouth, priming your lips for the next set of kisses and swipes of the tongue you’ll begrudgingly deliver. 

“That’s it…”  Jimin drags his next thrust especially long, pulling out until your pussy lips kiss his own cock in a teasing kiss. Yoongi starts to stroke the back of your head, threading his fingers through strands of hair just so he can rub soothing patterns into your neck. Just like a lover. Bit by bit you end up relaxing into it, the weed helping along the process. Using your tongue, you lick a kiss at the underside of Yoongi’s shaft, making him swallow. Jimin thrusts back in after seeing that, causing you to poke yourself in the cheek with Yoongi’s dick in a misaim, startled but not without help. Jimin wipes his hair out of his eyes, huffing. “Suck on it.”

“Yes, that, do that,” Yoongi mutters, clearly liking the thought. He keeps caressing your neck, encouraging you to lean forward with a warm twinkle in his eyes, “show me how talented you are, dream girl. Wrap those perfect lips around me.” 

And like that, he has you tight as a vice around Jimin’s cock, hearing those words—words meant for you. Like that, Yoongi still has you around his stupid, manipulative fingers, feeding you hope like a trail of crumbs. You take his hard cock into your mouth, doing your best to fit it comfortably past your teeth without nicking Yoongi and taking away from his pleasure. If this is the way it’s going to be, even temporarily, you’d choose this.

Here, so close to Yoongi’s groin, you can see the dark hair growing back since the first time he fucked your mouth. It was only Sunday. Just days since your life started to change. 

With closing eyelids you try not to think about it or anything in general, just focusing on the heady weight pressing down on your wet tongue. Lips wrapped tight around his girth, you let another inch sink in of your own accord, without the force of his hand. What you can’t swallow you make up for with the warmth of your fingers, trying not to sniffle in the process. Both of them are so big inside you it’s staggering.

If there’s anything to be said about you, it’s your curiosity to figure others out. Parts of you are driven to find out the secret alleyways in a person’s heart; what makes them happy, what makes them feel good, and right now, you know that Yoongi must be feeling really, really nice. He lets out little moans and sighs when your lips meet the sides of your fingers, drawing his balls tighter. All because of you. 

“Look at you... I might actually believe you love me.” Yoongi hums extra loud, stroking your hair with both hands and then down your trembling shoulders. He seems to enjoy caressing you, further feeding into the fantasy, until his hand halts near your throat. “You know what I’d really appreciate?”

You hesitate, pausing with your mouth more than full. It’s a slow slip-off, your brain working in overdrive to come up with a quick answer…

An honest answer…

You know what happens when you lie to Yoongi. So you’ll go along.

“What?” 

“To be the first person who’s fucked your throat.”

“I just…” you mumble, eyes darting between his face and anywhere but his face, knowing there’s— again —only one right answer. You cough, obliterated by his self-expression. It’s hard to believe this is your pastor’s son, and that he’s saying such filth to you.

“I don’t, no—I don’t think—I don’t really know.” 

To Yoongi and Jimin, your face reads: that’s not a good idea.

So it may as well be the best.

“Don’t tell me all that happy smoke knocked every single thought of yours down to a single ‘ I don’t know ’?” Yoongi shakes his head, unconvinced. As he talks he begins to play with the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them top to bottom. You watch the entire time, trying not to openly stare. But that’s the thing about being high—you’re always ten times more oblivious and obvious than your normal state, and Yoongi soaks the disadvantages up. “Lovers are supposed to be honest with each other. Tell me the truth.” 

“If you do, you won’t regret it, I promise,” Jimin urges you on, encouraging how your hips stir and keen against the perfect hardness inside your heat. He barely has to fuck you with the way you squirm around his cock, hugging his sides like you were always meant for this. Somehow, you have difficulty trusting Jimin, with his smoky eyes and long flickering lashes. “If you don’t, well… you’ll make me so sad, Jagi.”

“So, so sad,” Yoongi serves to give you confidence through guilt-tripping now, helping you speak your inner thoughts—the ones buried deep, deep down—out loud, even if it means pulling them by the teeth. The reason for your shameless rutting against Jimin’s abs and chest. This position gives Jimin the advantage of being as deep as he wants, although it forces you to use your flexibility from all those years of cheer to stay upright on your own now. The lactic acid is beginning to build in your muscles, soreness building. “Just tell me how much you love my cock, then. Use your words.” 

Yoongi infuriates you as much as he confuses your knotted insides.

“It’s…” you lick your lips, hating all of this, “… it’s very warm.” 

“Warm?” 

“… Hot.” You elaborate.

“I see,” Yoongi nods, loving this himself, “hot, and?”

“It’s—heavy, too,” you swallow, thick and indecent. Remembering the weight of it on your stuffy tongue has your swollen clit aching for more stimulation, to cum when you’ve been denied timelessly, “… in my mouth.” 

Yoongi’s expression is decadent. “Does it feel good? Intense?” 

A pause. Followed by another. Your weeping heart is a bitch. Jimin’s sure to grind his hips against yours so you’ll be more responsive, making you feel him deeper than ever.

“ Ah—yes, yes,” you let a pent-up moan slip, keeping a good grip on Yoongi’s cock so he won’t get soft. “It is—it’s a g-good feeling!” 

“Yeah? Must feel better than we do. Wanna do us a favor?” 

“… Favor?” You nod, mostly from the bounce of Jimin’s pounding, his hooded eyes roving all over you, vision split where the two of your bodies meet. “What kind— of, of —favor?” 

“Nothing you couldn’t do with a single brain cell. Pick a number between one and seven.” 

Seven? Seven? One, two, three…

“Three?” 

“That’s me,” Jimin’s pre-existing smile widens, and if possible, his hair looks even shinier, more perfect than at the start of the day. Maybe that’s the smoke, the weed, the dimming atmosphere through the closed curtains. “You’re all mine until I’m done with you.” 

It’s at that moment that Jimin pounces, knocking you out of Yoongi’s gentle support. Your head hits the pillow with a soft bounce, nearly knocking up and into Jimin’s hard chest. Your own hands come to press against him, gazing up into his line of vision. He’s already looking at you, surrounding you, and he’s so incredibly warm you’re already feeling the light dampness of perspiration around your temple.

What does he—what?

Yoongi has all but stepped back, taking his own arousal into his own hands in the meantime. You still don’t understand, but that’s okay—you’re here for the ride, lost in Jimin’s strong scent. It’s not overbearing anymore, nor was it ever unpleasant. I just can’t get used to being this close to him. He’s so… sweet smelling, too.

Like vanilla.

“You smell so good,” he whispers, inhaling deeply when his arms come around your head like a sheltered halo. Funny how thoughts work. You were just thinking the same thing. More blood colors your cheeks. Jimin could drink you dry. “How come you always smell different every week, but always so good? Like a walking, talking treat.” 

“Huh?” you answer, meek with your legs spread around Jimin’s waist. Jimin’s confession is a little weird, you’ll admit, but all of that is forgotten when you get another knock-out whiff of him.

Not a second goes by where Jimin lets you forget he exists to knock the air out of you, his thighs putting in more effort to rut against your helpless cunt. Bodies pressed together; you can’t see how you’ve creamed around Jimin’s cock already. Got it all milky and white with your arousal. You hear it, though, how the room fills with sounds of wet slapping when his thighs smack against your slick inner thighs. 

“God, god, god, I love fucking you. Never gonna get tired of this, the way this little pussy sucks everything dry,” Jimin gives up, cursing. Spreading his thighs, he doubles down, pounding your cunt twice as fast and twice as hard. Getting lost in the tight rhythm of your seething heat. It feels like color and happiness and sound. Jimin loves the noise the two of you are making together; loves your softness against his desperate skin. 

He has his shirt on, still. You remember this because your fingers have slipped inside his loose shirt, your eyes incapable of looking down—of admitting to your guilt. “You can touch me, little mouse,” he recants, like he’s telling you to be as sweet as his cherry printed shirt. “I’d like it if you did.” 

Jimin guides your hands the rest of the way—that is, to the inside of his shirt. You can feel one of your fingers brush a dusty nipple, soft from the cozy warmth of the room. You jolt under him, surprised that he’s making you touch him so intimately. You forget you’re holding your breath until you let it go. Blond hair tickles the side of your face as Jimin nuzzles into the crook of your neck. 

‘I’d like it if you did.’

‘You can touch me…’

You choke on a moan, unable to help yourself, excited by the skin available to your touch. It feels like it’s been hours since you’ve been laying here when in reality, you know fuck all about linear time. You have no concept of it at this point, so far gone in your senses as Jimin shades you.

“Can you hear us? The noises we’re making together? You’re so wet, all of us can hear it,” Jimin inhales deeply, nuzzling his nose back and forth against your sensitive skin, “how turned on you are, getting all the dick you’ve been deprived of. I know Tae made you all messy down there, but don’t worry—I’m gonna fill you up so good, none of it's going to leak out…” 

You shiver, squirming under Jimin, the noises escaping you impossible to ignore, let alone unhear. It feels unbearably good— like you’ve got to run away from it or else good, when he does anything pleasurable to your neck area. Your nerves are most sensitive there, and unlike some of your other partners in the past, Jimin is different in exploiting it. Excessively. “ Jimin —please…” 

“Please what?” 

“Don’t. Please don’t,” you blink, nails digging into Jimin’s chest when he licks your neck, the flatness of his tongue lavishing the area well and wet. You grapple with his weight over you, biting your miserable lip at how good everything feels. “If you do that—you’re gonna… make me all messy. You will. It’ll get out, all over…” 

Your face is so fucking hot as you say it. 

“It’ll stain Yoongi’s couch.” 

Your thighs quiver. 

“Ah…” 

So does your lip.

“Are you saying you care about Yoongi’s couch more than making me feel good?” 

Jimin’s ready to join the pout parade. You can feel it all in your neck, his plump lips all puckered in a pout. You can feel his eyelashes brush against your jaw, tickling you, testing you with the occasional gyration of his casual but urgent fucking. “Are you telling me you’d suck Yoongi’s cock with love and care but fuck me and my feelings I guess?” 

“Jimin, no—” you reply, perhaps more vehemently than you expected of yourself. With knit brows, you try to figure out what the best answer is. With Jimin and Yoongi, there always is one… right? “—that’s not it.” 

“Prove me wrong then,” he’s quick to challenge you, nipping your skin with his teeth. You shudder and he feels like he’s on cloud nine. Funny how that works out. “Show me there’s no favorites.” 

There is no favorite. There never was. But you don’t know how to prove it. 

“What do you… want me to do? To prove it to you?” 

You just made him so happy, he’s smiling, pecking you with one last kiss before pulling back to look you in the eyes. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

His bangs come to touch your forehead. How is he so pretty and righteous looking, doing dirty, wrong, unspeakable things? 

“Touch me. Talk to me. I wanna hear you.” 

To demonstrate, he takes your hands—one at a time—and circles them around his thinner than expected waist. You can feel the definition in his hips, the perfect swell of his ass cheeks when guides you to cup one of them.

“Jimin, why…” 

You know you’re whining. You know it’s heady and desperate. 

You know it’s wrong. But Jimin is so soft it’s incredible. 

“I feel good in you, don’t I? I know I do. You’ve got the tightest pussy I’ve played with.”

Jimin is sin. And yet, has he always been that way? Temptation wrapped up as one of the prettiest human beings you’ve ever met or witnessed existing at the same time as everyone else? He has no right looking every bit as full of himself as he does above you. He clenches when your fingers dig into his skin, pleased as peaches, knowing if he puts the work in to charm you, it’ll get him what he wants. 

“Makes me want to play with your asshole sometime, won’t lie,” Jimin murmurs, immediately shattering the mirage that he was ever an angel to begin with, let alone a sweet escape. It’s too bad he hasn’t gotten tired in the least, pounding your sweet, but sore cunt into Yoongi’s sofa. There’s definitely a stain where the two of you are pinned, just cum mixed with cum. If the thoughts are circulating around in your head, it’s in Jimin’s, and by god is he getting off to it, quick, silent, and forever resilient.

Petting your hair, Jimin snakes his way underneath your head, so his hand serves as a pillow. It seems sweet, even up until he navigates your head to the side to whisper in your keen ear. “Has anyone fucked your ass before? I can’t remember asking you.” 

“No!” The answer flies out of your mouth. “No one’s—no one’s done that. I’ve never done anal stuff with any of my… uh, boyfriends…” 

“So you’ve got a little virgin asshole back there,” Jimin tries not to say it so casually, but you don’t trust him either way, even if he can fuck you into thoughtless trances. Just thinking about how thick he is inside your pussy has you acting dumb, the last place you need that kind of girth is your own ass—but the idea. The idea.  Jimin himself grunts thoughtlessly, thinking about how if your pussy is already this fucking tight, how much tighter has your asshole gotta be? How about when he gets Yoongi to take you between them, fucking you back and forth until they’re done making you whimper and cry with too much going on? 

“It’s off-limits,” you wash down the foreboding of Jimin’s statement by running your hands along the middle of Jimin’s back, gently telling him no. You won’t ever let it get that far—you swear it. You’d rather distract and deter him from this track of thinking if you have to. Even if it means turning him on more, making him drive into you with faster abandon than he was already losing.

Jimin doesn’t bother answering you after that. He faintly murmurs his ‘opinion’, though in truth, he couldn’t give two shits whether you believe your asshole is off limits to him. Nothing’s ever been off-limits for Jimin.

“I mean it,” you emphasize your seriousness by digging your nails into his skin, only to have the opposite effect on the blond. He punishes you and your poor hole even more, thrusts becoming erratic and harsh in his pursuit of a perfect, balls draining orgasm. 

“Uh huh,” he tells you off-hand, simply in it now to chase his high. His balls are full and tight, ready to explode, and all he wants is to keep thrusting until he’s drained his cock dry. “I bet you thought you wouldn’t be getting fucked on this couch either but look where you’re at. Taking my cock like you’re supposed to.” 

That’s the last coherent thing Jimin says to you before he hyper fixates on the tightening in his gut, the unbelievable circuit of pressured pleasure filtering through his veins as he doesn’t stop, but slow down his thrusts, and lets out the longest string of curses you’ve ever heard a supposed angel utter. 

“God, yes, yes, yes, you’re so perfect—the perfect little slut, the perfect little cock sleeve wrapped snug around my fucking dick—” 

Just a slew of profanity coming from the sweetest, plumpest lips this planet has been graced with. He stills like a perfect statue, letting his cock spurt inside of you freely while never leaving the comfort of your tight hole. “God,” he murmurs, looking at where you meet and simply watching the way his own cock throbs past your lips, hugged snug around him. It’s such a pretty sight. A perfect sight. Like you were meant for this, for him, for them. 

Pulling out every so slightly, he allows your vaginal walls more room for his cum to finish draining. It’s your fault he had been all pent up the past couple of days, waiting for his chance to pounce. To fuck you silly, just like this. “Jagi—you… did you just cream all over my dick?” 

He sounds as astonished as you look. 

“You came inside me…” 

That’s not the point to you. To you, that means he’s saying you came, and you did not cum. You would know. You would know, damn it. “… again.”

Jimin came. Taehyung came. In fact, many people here have cum many more times than you have the entire time your drop-in’s started this week. You’re a bottle bubble soda ready to explode after being shaken without release. 

You’re also pouting, again. Jimin bites his own lip, just to suppress the urge to pounce on your weakness. He also has to suppress the urge to not look at you as if to convey: so, what’s so wrong about doing my God given right?  He’s not going to feel sorry for a long-time fantasy of his that he’s been harboring.

When Jimin doesn’t address you, you push at his pecs to get his attention. “Jimin.”

“Hush,” he tells you, having heard the first time, “I’m not done.” 

“But you have to be.” You yearn for him to listen to you, but if you can’t reason with him, you’ll wriggle away from his throbbing cock and all the hot, thick cum he’s left you with. “How can you just cum wherever he did…” where Tae already came. Where Yoongi already came.  

“He? You mean Tae?” Jimin laughs, hearing you censor Taehyung’s name now. He’s still inside you, of course, and he won’t be moving until he feels like it. Right now he’s just enjoying letting your pussy do all the cock warming he wants while he recovers for the next round. Something he alludes to with the way he forces his cock past all the cum he’s dumped and buries himself to the hilt again. “Tae doesn’t have a name now?”

“Ji—Jimin, stop,” you cry out, hands coming to clutch his shoulders. It surprised you, that’s all, not to mention the fucking fullness stretching your walls. As expected, it makes a huge fucking mess, and the contents of Jimin’s release spills out the sides of your stretched rim and slips down the curve of your ass cheeks, making you sticky and uncomfortable. You want to get away from it, until Jimin shocks you.

“Why are you acting so dumb? I said I wasn’t done.” Jimin looks you in the eyes when he says that. “Keep your ass where it’s at so I can keep fucking you.” 

“I’m not…! Jimin, If you don’t stop, I’ll never—”

“—you’ll what? Cry? Throw another fit? You’ll quiet down as I fuck you through it.” 

“Ji—Jimin!” You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “That’s not nice…”

“That’s the thing. I don’t have to be nice to fuck you,” Jimin coo’s down at you, hair tickling your forehead, “because your body will love whatever I do to it. You’re that much of a fucking slut for me.” 

You’re done talking after that. Not because you don’t have anything to say, but because Jimin’s decided he’s done hearing all he’s willing to hear. With more mess and fuss involved, he attacks your lips once more, provoking you into another kiss you’re less sure you want to be a part of. 

His less than angelic words were raw, deep statements felt between the ribs and worse, in the pit of your curled gut, now that Jimin has his hips and lips smashed against you, snuffing any stray syllables that slip out from your panting mouth. Jimin licks past it, biting your bottom lip when he’s done running his tongue against yours. It’s not gentle or clean; it’s messy and shameless. 

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together, y/n.” He pulls back, peeking at you from lowered lids. You’re shaking underneath Jimin, your nerves slowly firing off and out as you try to hold it all together. Your mind, your consciousness, your tongue. He feels much bigger inside your sensitive cunt than he ever has before, now that he’s not pulling out when what you need most is a break, please. Your fleshy walls quake around his sliding girth, twice as sensitive as the moments last, only for Jimin to keep going. “We’re gonna be so—so close …!”

Jimin can feel you shudder around him, which makes him shudder in return, tightening his embrace around you. It’s almost sweet, how he holds you like a lover—if that lover were possessively turning your insides out like a spark of streamers, making you dizzy and delirious.

“Ji-min…”  

Your high little brain can’t handle it. Jimin only continues to kiss you, biting at your lips until he’s satisfied with how puffy and red they are. Up and down you go, jostled around on the couch like the pretty thing you are, falling apart underneath this fallen man. You manage to hiccup half his name, squirming uncontrollably against his rutting hips.

“Keep saying my name,” the blond mutters, bumping your nose with his, as if he thinks he’s the cutest thing in the world, “you sound so desperate when you do.” 

Another hopeless hiccup. Your mound presses against Jimin’s rutting hips, your sensitive, swollen clit getting rubbed on and off again while you squirm under his weight. “Jimin, I, I…!” 

“Are you going to cum, Jagi?” 

You can feel the sofa burning against your backside as Jimin chases after his second orgasm, body pressed so close against yours you almost feel suffocated—by weight, by beauty, by smell. Jimin grunts get louder and more emotionally charged as his already sensitized cock nears its sweet release, and you, well, you end up doing the only thing you can to somehow shut all that’s overwhelming you out: you wrap your arms tight around Jimin’s neck and bury your face in the crux of his shoulder.

No more thinking. No more thinking, please… 

Still, skin slapping skin filters the air, reminding you of your place in this. Your muscles have wound up tight, scared to cum if you’re going to be denied again. If Jimin’s just going to take and take and take from you and give nothing in return. 

“You can cum, you can cum,” Jimin confesses, his voice a pitch breathier with you literally in his arms. Against your better judgement, you hang off him, legs squeezing dangerously around his waist.

“No,” you finally sob, straight into Jimin’s shoulder. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to…” 

Delirious. You’re delirious. Strange and vivid colors dance behind your closed eyelids, while you’re on the brink of fading fast before you can step off the ledge Jimin tells you to jump off of. You grapple with the back of his shirt, nails digging into his lithe muscles.

“Yes, you do. You’ll cum cause I’ll make you. You’ll cum because you’re a dirty little cum slut. My little cum slut.” Jimin grunts, and like a renewed, vindictive man, he grinds his cockhead firmly against your pussy’s limit, making sure he keeps the same amount of pressure on your clit as he does. It’s the last straw, before you crack, your walls spasming around Jimin’s cock until your pussy, and release, give way to something phenomenal. 

Jimin hisses when your teeth sink into his vulnerable, clothed shoulder, clearly not expecting such a primal reaction from someone like you, but fuck if he isn’t blissed out by the little slice of desperate aggression inside of you. Without loosening his embrace in the slightest, his moans mingle with your unwilling ones, reveling in how your pussy and legs grip him like a vice. Slowly you milk his cock of yet another orgasm, one he stays still and buried in deep.

You’ve got nothing left to think of, just an endless litany of my, my, my.  

And then all those pretty colors, as strange and vivid as they are, dissolve and vanish, much like your fading consciousness.