BTS, SVT, and MX

Hoseok just stared at you. “I mean, they want a fitting. How are you not getting this?”

You wrinkled your nose in irritation. “But… they sent in their measurements. They don’t need a fitting. I’ve done a thousand of these harnesses by now. Are you really doubting my skills after all this time?”

He shouldn’t be. Your body accessories shop, Dark & Wild, was incredibly popular and business was booming. It had been, ever since you’d expanded from typical jewelry like necklaces and arm bands into full-body harnesses and chains, opening up a new market and creating more demand for your painstakingly handcrafted jewelry.

You worked in gold and silver, leather and metal, twisting and shaping the harshest elements to create the most exquisite adornments. It didn’t matter how much they resisted; eventually, everything bent to your demands. Hoseok often joked that the toughest thing in your shop wasn’t your tools or the materials you worked with, but your will.

He wasn’t wrong.

Hoseok sighed, pinching his nose. “Of course not. I know you know what you’re doing! You’re the best there is. It’s why I made you my business partner all those years ago.”

“Excuse me, I believe I made you my partner when I opened this shop!”

“Right, when you realized you needed someone to run the books and talk to clients and generally do everything except craft the products.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, will you please just do this for me? These guys are friends of a dear friend of mine, and he promised they’d make it worthwhile.”

“You mean they’re willing to pay a lot.”

He grinned, lighting up the room like a tiny, annoying sun. “Yep!”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But where exactly am I supposed to do this fitting?” You gestured around your shop, which was a workspace, not a storefront. All of your jewelry was sold online only, every piece made to order according to your clients’ desires.

Hoseok waved a hand. “I’m sure this is fine. But if you want, I know they’re staying at the Black Swan downtown. I can text and get their room number if you’d rather meet them there.”

“The Black Swan?” You whistled. “Fancy. Who are these guys again?”

“My friend Yoongi’s clients. He’s their manager. They’re in some rock band - Autumn Trees? No. Autumn Leaves?” He snapped his fingers. “Dead Leaves!”

You snorted. “Sounds emo.” Setting down the piece you’d been working on, you sighed. “Fine. I’ll interrupt my busy day to go meet these two total strangers in a hotel room, and if they turn out to be bloodthirsty killers and murder me, I’ll just haunt your ass for the rest of your life. And if they don’t turn out to be bloodthirsty killers, I’ll still haunt your ass for making me do this. It’ll just be a while before I get there.”

Hoseok beamed, pulling you into a quick hug. “You’re the best, sugar.”

“I know.”

Hoseok texted you the details the next morning. You were to meet your clients - Taehyung and Jungkook, those were their names - at 2. You spent the morning in your shop, finishing up a few pieces before lunch. Around 1, you gently packed their orders into your rolling carrying case and headed out.

You fiddled with the straps on your Doc Martens on the train to downtown. A sleazy looking guy sitting across from you leered as your leather skirt rode up on your thighs, and you scowled and gave him the bird. You weren’t in the mood to pretend not to notice, annoyed that you were making this special trip to begin with.

Your mood didn’t improve any by the time the train finally arrived 15 minutes later than it was supposed to, due to some issue on the tracks. Hustling down the crowded sidewalk towards the hotel, you swore as one of the wheels on your case suddenly came loose and rolled directly into a sewer grate. Picking up the case, you tucked it under your arm as you finally strolled into the hotel and directly into an elevator, collapsing against a mirrored wall in relief.

Sweat was prickling your forehead as you knocked on the hotel room door. You hoped you didn’t look like a mess, frowning slightly as you realized how late you were running.

You raised your hand to knock again, just as the door opened. Your fist bounced off of a solid chest. “Fuck! Sorry!” you yelped, retracting your hand as if you’d been shocked.

The face that greeted you was impassive. Gorgeous, but impassive. A pair of dark eyes assessed you with a sweeping gaze.

A beat passed.

“Um, hi.” You introduced yourself. “I’m here for your fitting?”

The gorgeous man said nothing, but opened the door fully and nodded to indicate that you could enter.

“Thanks.” You inspected him as you passed. Shadowed, hypnotic eyes framed with long lashes and killer cheekbones. A dark mop of wild curls held back by a headband. Black jeans and a black and white printed shirt. He looked like a rock star, all right.

A rock star from a very successful band, if the size of the suite was anything to judge by. You walked down a small corridor into a large sitting room, with plush couches and giant artwork on the walls. Two of the walls, anyway, since the wall in front of you was floor to ceiling glass windows.

“Shit,” you breathed, looking out at the city skyline.

“Yeah, it’s a nice view, huh?” A voice piped up beside you. Draped across one of the couches was another gorgeous man. Only this one smiled at you innocently, nose crinkling as he did. “I’m Jungkook. You must be…”

You gave him your name. He repeated it softly, the pleasing timbre of his voice making you wonder if he was the lead singer. Then again, you didn’t know anything about the band - maybe they were all singers.

Jungkook stood, running his hand through mint-colored hair, revealing a dark undercut. Small silver hoops glittered in both of his ears, matching the hoop nestled in the corner of his plump bottom lip. He was dressed a little more relaxed than the other man (who you now assumed was Taehyung), wearing an oversized long-sleeved black shirt and black joggers. His round eyes seemed so open and pure. You could imagine falling helplessly into them.

Yeah, definitely seemed like lead singer material.

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologized. “There was a problem with the train tracks and then my case broke.”

“No worries. We just got in from our soundcheck anyway, so the timing worked out,” Jungkook replied.

Taehyung continued to say nothing, just observing you with those eyes. You weren’t sure if you liked that or not.

“So, where do you want us?”

You glanced around the room. “Is there a mirror somewhere that we can use?”

“Uh, yeah. Right this way.”

You followed the men down another hallway into a bedroom. A bedroom that was almost wastefully large for being so minimally decorated, consisting of a gigantic bed, one night stand, and one armchair and table tucked into the corner. The largest tv you’d ever seen was suspended on the wall across from the bed, artwork hung behind the bed on a second wall, the third wall was all window, and the entire fourth wall? One colossal mirror.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make do,” you muttered, earning a snicker from Jungkook.

You laid your case on the bed. Jungkook flopped onto the pile of pillows at the head of the bed while Taehyung sat on the edge.

“Who wants to go first?”

“I can.” Taehyung’s voice was surprisingly deep as he finally spoke. You motioned for him to stand beside you.

He began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Um, you can leave that on. The harness will fit over any shirt, so even if this isn’t the one you’ll be wearing on stage, it’ll work fine for this.”

“I don’t wear shirts on stage.”

Oh. Well then. “Okay.”

You tugged on the zipper on your case. It wouldn’t budge. Frowning, you tugged harder, only for the pull to snap off in your hand. “Ah, shit.” “Everything okay?” Jungkook inquired.

“No. Stupid zipper broke.” And of course all your tools were inside, so you couldn’t use them to fix it. “Do you have a sewing kit around here?” As big as the hotel suite was, there was probably an entire sewing room down one of the corridors.

Taehyung stopped undressing long enough to find you a kit. Just as you got the zipper open, you managed to prick yourself with the pin. “Motherfucker!” You sucked on your finger as both men looked on in concern. “Sorry. Just… It's been a bad day.”

You missed the glance they exchanged as you finally opened your case and removed Taehyung’s piece. Holding his harness in your hands, you turned, and blinked.

If you didn’t know better, you’d swear you were back in your workspace, because the figure next to you was as cut as the realistic fiberglass mannequin you used to photograph your jewelry. Your eyes raked over Taehyung’s smooth chest and the grooves of his abs, settling briefly on the defined v line above the waist of his tight jeans before you caught yourself.

But the mannequin you owned did not have a sprawling tattoo running from its neck down its torso and around its back, an enormous mass of rambling branches and trailing flowers that almost seemed to flutter as he breathed.

“Wow. That’s some gorgeous artwork.”

He just nodded.

You carefully draped the harness over his waiting frame. He lowered his head as you clasped the neck piece, and you inhaled something sweet and floral. Surprising.

Stepping back, you marveled at your handiwork. Taehyung had ordered a black piece, with slender twists meant to mimic thorns. Set against his tattoo, you now understood the request. The metal wound around his neck twice, first as a choker, then a larger loop that connected to a chain running down the center of his chest. At his navel, the chain split to flare out over his hips.

Jungkook joined the two of you, hand reaching out to gently touch the harness that hung on his bandmate. “Wow. You made this?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“That’s so cool.” He twirled one of the thorns between his fingertips. “You have very talented hands.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“I wish I could make stuff. But I’ve been told my skills lie elsewhere.” He winked, taking a seat on the bed, reclining on his elbows, watching Taehyung spin in the mirror as he examined the chain.

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky response, watching Taehyung spin in the mirror as he examined the chain. The harness draped beautifully down his torso, the black metal accenting the tattoo and giving him a mysterious, sexy air.

As if those dark eyes didn’t do that enough.

Silently patting yourself on the back, you continued to admire the way the chain skimmed over Taehyung’s striking figure, only to stop when he asked, “Can it be tighter?”

“Tighter?” you repeated incredulously. “Well, yeah, sure, I can make it tighter, but don’t you need to move around the stage?” You still didn’t know if he played an instrument or danced or what, so you weren’t sure how much freedom of movement he’d need. “And if I do, there’s a chance the thorns could dig into your skin. Might hurt a little.”

“I can take it.”

Ooookay.

“You’re the boss,” you commented, and took the chain in your hands. Twisting lightly, you looked at Taehyung. “Is this tight enough?”

He shook his head. Something dark flashed in his eyes. “Tighter.”

You bit your lip and twisted another link. “And now?”

“Is the chain going to break?”

“No,” you scoffed, slightly insulted that he was questioning your work.

“Neither am I. Tighter.”

Your hand brushed against his chest as you wound the chain around your fingers. He was hot to the touch, yet a wave of goosebumps rippled down your arm as you glanced into his eyes again.

“Perfect,” he drawled, smirking.

His gaze lingered on your lips a little too long.

Fuck. You reminded yourself that you were a professional, and focused on the alterations you would need to make. Taehyung held the chain for you as you typed a few notes into your phone, then you snapped a few photos for reference before unclasping the harness and putting it away.

One down.

“My turn!” Jungkook sprang to his feet like an eager puppy and bounded to your side as Taehyung put his shirt back on, taking a seat in the armchair. Before you could ask about his stagewear preference, Jungkook reached behind his head and yanked his shirt off one-handed.

Again, you were greeted by the sight of firm pecs and ridiculously defined abs. These men clearly believed in treating their bodies like temples. Ones that their fans would be all too happy to worship at, no doubt.

Like Taehyung, Jungkook was covered in ink. His right arm had a sleeve of tattoos, a series of markings in various sizes and shapes that coated his arm in a chaotic collection.

“You guys really like tattoos, huh?” You couldn’t help but smile. “Way to fight the rock star stereotype.”

Jungkook grinned a sweet bunny smile, all teeth and wrinkled nose. It was rather disarming, and actually did make him look like less of a rock star cliche, so you begrudgingly gave him credit.

Then you reminded yourself to concentrate on getting the job done. You had so much work waiting for you back at your shop.

Jungkook’s harness appeared more simple than Taehyung’s in front, a simple gunmetal grey chain, no choker or loops, no thorns, hanging in a straight line down his torso and splitting at his navel. However, the back was more complex, a pattern of woven strands strung like a spider web over his shoulder blades, tapering down to his waist.

Jungkook stood still as you adjusted the harness over his form. Taller than Taehyung, he had to stoop slightly while you played with the closure. Your fingertips scraped the nape of his neck and he shuddered.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “Ticklish?”

“A little,” he confessed, peering over his shoulder to watch as you straightened several kinked sections, fixing the way the web draped over his strong back. “Thanks for doing this, by the way. Yoongi-hyung said you don’t usually do fittings.”

“That’s right. And you’re welcome.” You frowned slightly, wondering why so many links were twisted where they shouldn’t be. “Why exactly did you guys want a fitting, anyway?”

He shrugged, the harness lifting slightly as his broad shoulders moved. “We take our stagewear seriously, down to the last detail. We didn’t get to where we are by doing things half-assed.”

“Hmm.” You took a step back, scouring the chain for any other imperfections and finding none. “I can understand that.”

“I’m sure you can.” Jungkook turned and grinned at you. “Yoongi-hyung said Hobi-hyung said that you were the best of the best. That’s why we chose you.”

“You chose me?” You tilted your head.

“Your shop. That’s why we chose to buy from your shop.” He bit his lip.

You couldn’t help but smile at his embarrassed expression. “I think you’re good now, if you want to take a look?”

Jungkook rotated slowly, inspecting the harness from all angles in the mirror. The delicate chain made an interesting contrast against his solid frame. You couldn’t help but admire the way the metal shone against his skin, highlighting the muscles that undulated as he moved. You also couldn’t help but admire the muscles themselves.

“Thoughts?” you inquired.

Another grin. “I love it.”

He twirled a few times, letting out a high-pitched giggle, making you laugh in surprise. His giggle was delightfully at odds with his physique. It was charming as hell.

“If you have no objections, then I’ll just take it back to my shop and polish it up without making any alterations.”

You tried to slide behind him to undo the clasp, but Jungkook jumped away. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” you repeated. “I’m taking the harness off you? So I can take it back to my shop, like I said?”

“Are you in that much of a hurry to leave?” His eyes glimmered.

Your eyes narrowed.

“The fitting is over, so I should be on my way. I’ve got a lot of work to finish up this afternoon.” You reached for the harness again, but he dodged you. “Hey! Stop that!”

He giggled, spinning around and grabbing your wrists - loosely, but with enough force that you were pulled against him. You inhaled sharply, eyes wide as you gazed up. The gleam in his eye seemed a lot less mischievous and a lot more… wicked.

“You seem stressed. A little… wound up. It must be difficult, running your own business, doing all that hard work yourself.” His thumbs stroked your wrists. “Don’t you think you deserve to have some fun?”

“Yeah,” a low voice rumbled from the corner, and you jumped. Taehyung had been sitting so quietly in the armchair for so long that you’d completely forgotten he was still in the room. “There’s no need to run off. Stay a while. Relax.”

You glanced between the two men. “Okay, I’m not really sure what you guys are suggesting, but I think I should go.” You were actually pretty sure that you knew exactly what they were suggesting. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted to mess around with one of them, but both?

This kind of thing didn’t really happen, did it?

“We’re just suggesting that you indulge yourself a little,” Taehyung rose from his seat, crossing the room leisurely. With his intense gaze, the movement reminded you of nothing more than a tiger stalking its prey.

“Yeah. Come on. Play with us,” Jungkook crooned sweetly, watching you through lowered eyelashes. “We appreciate you coming here. Accommodating us.”

“Let us thank you,” Taehyung whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you realized he was right behind you. His hands ghosted over your shoulders, sweeping your hair out of the way as a pair of lips suddenly danced along your neck.

Your head spun, fragments of thoughts flitting through your mind. All those unfinished pieces waiting for you back at your shop. Whether it was unprofessional to sleep with two (two!) clients. If you should follow the likely well-worn path of a typical groupie and hook up with these rock stars.

If you deserved to cut loose. Unwind.

These were all swept aside by one incredibly loud statement: Fuck it, let’s ride.

Twisting the chain around your fingers, you tugged Jungkook towards you. He reacted immediately, lips smashing into yours. Taehyung pressed himself into your back, his hands on your hips as Jungkook’s hands threaded through your hair.

Trapped between the two men, you moaned wantonly. Two pairs of hands roamed your body. Two pairs of lips covered your skin in kisses. Your pussy throbbed, begging for attention, and you crushed your pelvis into Jungkook’s, trying desperately to grind against the erection that was jutting into your thigh.

Jungkook broke the kiss, chuckling. “Need something, baby?” he purred, nipping at your lips. You nodded, gasping as one of Taehyung’s hands slid down your front, coming to rest between your thighs. He rubbed his fingers along your crotch, the sudden pressure making you keen, growling into your shoulder as he felt the dampness growing there.

“I think she needs you, Kook,” he murmured. Just as you were starting to buck against his hand, setting a rhythm, he suddenly released his grip on you and drew away.

“Wha…?” you panted, looking back in confusion. Jungkook’s hand grasped your chin and brought your focus back to him.

“Come on, baby. Let me help you out.” He guided you to the bed, gently pushing on your hips to get you to sit. “Lie back for me.”

You did as instructed, sliding up the bed until you hit the pile of soft pillows. Jungkook followed, crawling up the bed.

But Taehyung had taken his seat in the armchair again.

“I thought…?” you trailed off as you looked at him, puzzled.

Jungkook followed your gaze. “Taehyungie likes to watch,” he explained.

Oh.

Jungkook took a moment to undo the straps of your boots, sliding them off and dropping them to the floor. His hands slid up your bare legs, stopping at your thighs, gently nudging your legs apart. You could feel your panties sticking to you as his eyes swept over you, and he leaned forward to shove your skirt up to your waist.

“Hmmm, I think you were right, Tae. She’s soaking through her panties.” Jungkook clucked his tongue. “Poor thing. You want me to remove those for you?”

You were no shrinking violet. You never shied away from using your voice. But something about Jungkook’s tone had you holding your tongue. You wanted him to take care of you. So you just nodded.

Jungkook hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, swiftly tugging them down. Once they were freed from your legs, he turned and chucked them over his shoulder, directly into Taehyung’s waiting hand.

You watched, mouth agape, as Taehyung unzipped his pants, freeing the thickest cock you’d ever seen. As you continued to stare, Taehyung stroked himself a few times with his empty hand.

Then he switched hands, rubbing himself with the sodden, satiny material.

“Oh god,” you groaned, unable to stifle yourself.

Jungkook’s face popped into your field of vision. “Back to me, baby,” he commanded, and you turned your attention back to the minty-haired man kneeling between your legs. “I want you to watch me, okay?”

“Okay,” you echoed weakly. You propped yourself up on the pillows as best you could.

Jungkook smirked, lying on his stomach, the harness biting into his skin and leaving indentations as he slid his arms under your thighs, locking them in place with his forearms. Gentle kisses flitted against your folds, and you sighed happily. Then you gasped in surprise as his tongue slid inside you, lapping at your core.

Jungkook’s gifts did indeed lie elsewhere. Namely, his golden tongue. He had you moaning in no time. You dug your hands into the plush blankets, seeking to anchor yourself as he added one finger, then a second, then a third, working you open with his hand as his tongue suckled at your clit, his lip ring rubbing enticingly. His eyes twinkled devilishly as he watched you, drinking in the way you writhed above him just as he drank in your slickness.

“How does she taste, Kook?”

Jungkook just whined, the needy sound spurring you to buck against his face in reply.

You rolled your head to the side, looking into the mirror. Taehyung’s reflection fucked his hand feverishly, an intense expression of concentration on his face. Knowing that you were the focus of that fierce gaze pushed you over the edge, the tiny mewls falling from your lips becoming a steady wail as you came all over Jungkook’s face. He let out a hoarse “Ah!” at the sensation of you clamping down on his hand, and ground his hips into the bed as he licked you through your orgasm, until you finally pushed his head away.

A stuttered cry from the corner told you that Taehyung had cum as well.

Panting, you stared into the mirror, watching Taehyung as he came down. Jungkook sat back on his heels, licking his lips, looking satisfied. You observed him through half-lidded eyes, still blissed out from your release. His erection was mouthwateringly large.

You wanted to taste him.

“How do you feel now?” Jungkook asked, hands softly caressing your calves. “Still stressed?”

“Mmmm, no.” You sat up, and swung your legs underneath you so that you were kneeling. “Definitely not stressed.” Your fingers trailed up Jungkook’s thigh.

He tipped his head as he watched your hand move towards his bulge. “Did you want to play a little more?”

“Yes please,” you all but groaned as you palmed him through his jeans. He hissed, hips lifting at your machinations.

Taehyung stalked across the room, shedding his clothes. He was already half-hard again by the time he sat behind you, his hands tugging at your shirt. You raised your arms, helping him as Jungkook’s fingers reached behind you to unzip your skirt. Within seconds, you were completely naked, Taehyung’s hands caressing your breasts as his hot breath tickled your neck.

“You need a hand, Kook?” Taehyung asked, fingers rolling your nipples between them. You arched slightly into his touch, head dropping back against his shoulder as he fondled you. “I think you should show him how talented those hands are, baby. Maybe that lovely mouth, too. What do you think - should you take care of him now?”

“Mmm, yeah, I wanna suck him off,” you managed to reply, answering Taehyung while meeting Jungkook’s eyes. Jungkook wasted no time, standing to slide his jeans off.

For the second time that afternoon, you were stunned by the sight of a massive cock. Whereas Taehyung was thick, Jungkook was long, and deliciously curved. The bright red tip of his dick looked almost painful, and you held out your hands, beckoning to him to rejoin you on the bed.

He knelt in front of you, and you got on your hands and knees, crawling towards him until you held his cock in your hand. You stroked him lightly, taking the tip in your mouth, coating him with your tongue. Then you surged forward and took him in, not stopping until your nose brushed against his pelvis.

“Fuck,” he gasped. You hummed around him, pleased to take him by surprise.

Then you nearly choked, as a pair of lips kissed at your entrance from behind you.

Taehyung had dropped to the floor, burying his face in your folds as you sucked Jungkook off. He teased you with long, agonizingly slow licks, swirling his tongue around your clit, which was still sensitive from Jungkook’s petting. You bobbed on Jungkook’s dick, swallowing down the saliva that flooded your mouth, making him curse.

Jungkook’s hands were in your hair, unrestrained pleas escaping him as you worked him over, calling you baby again and again, begging you not to stop. Taehyung had one hand on your thigh, holding you in place while he continued to lave at you, the other gripping his cock.

The sounds in the room were a clash of whimpers and moans, wet sounds of mouths and hands. A filthy cacophony of delights.

Jungkook began to thrust into your mouth, and you gagged slightly, but didn’t stop him. He babbled as his hips moved. “Fuck, baby, take it all,” he wheedled, singing your name.

You moaned around him and he threw his head back. “If you keep that up, I’m gonna cum right in that sweet mouth.” You hummed again, giving your consent, but his hips stilled and he pulled out.

You remained on your knees, a protest forming on your lips, because you weren’t done with him, but before you could utter a word, you suddenly doubled over, hiding your face in the blankets instead as Taehyung sucked unrelentingly on your clit, driving you insane with pleasure.

You longed for more than just his mouth.

“Taehyung, please,” you practically sobbed. “I need more.” When did you become this needy creature, such a sniveling mess? What had these men done to you?

Jungkook climbed onto the bed, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you furiously. You lost yourself in his embrace, letting him plunge his tongue into your willing mouth as his hands roved downward, squeezing your ass.

Taehyung suddenly appeared by your side as Jungkook rolled you onto your back.

He gave you a dark look, eyes raking over your naked body. “Kook, I think she’s ready for more.” He dropped his head to your breasts, lightly teething at a nipple. “Are you ready, baby? You want Kook to fuck you now?” His tongue caressed what his teeth had just stung.

If someone didn’t put their dick in you soon, you were going to explode. “God, yes, please fuck me!”

Jungkook grinned lasciviously, leaning over to trail kisses along your stomach. “You’re the boss.”

Taehyung rifled through the night stand, tossing Jungkook a condom. Then he settled himself against the headboard, his hand lazily gliding over his cock as Jungkook sheathed himself and lined up against you.

The metal chain hanging from his chest brushed your skin as he hovered above you. He dropped his lips to yours, and with a kiss he pushed inside. He slid in slowly, making sure you were comfortable as you adjusted to his length. You’d never felt so full, your eyes falling shut as you focused on the incredible sensation.

Once the glorious stretch stopped aching, you urged him to move by lifting your hips.

Jungkook did not hesitate.

He snapped his hips, setting a brutal pace, and your eyes flew open as you began to pant. “Fuck! Jungkook!” was all you could spit out, your brain shutting down anything not related to the intense pleasure you were experiencing.

Your head lolled back, and you caught Taehyung’s eye. He was once again staring at you as you bounced underneath Jungkook, mouth open in rapture as he jerked off. The debauched sight was overwhelming.

You wanted to touch him so badly.

Time to make them bend.

“Jungkook,” you moaned, turning your attention back to the man fucking you relentlessly. Your hand wrapped around the chain dangling from his neck, and you yanked, pulling him down. He lost his rhythm, hands stretching out to stop himself from falling on top of you. “Jungkook, stop.”

He lifted his head, a concerned look on his face. “What’s wrong, baby,” he huffed, searching your face. “Am I hurting you? You wanna stop?”

Releasing your grip on the harness, you gently pushed him off of you, and he pulled out. Sitting up, you looked Jungkook in the eye. “I wanna ride you.”

“Oh hell yeah.” You didn’t have to ask twice. Jungkook threw himself on the bed and gazed up at you, quirking an eyebrow. “Hop on, baby.”

You shook your head. “Nuh-uh. Not there.” You pointed at the head of the bed, where Taehyung was watching you. “Up there.”

Jungkook looked at Taehyung, who nodded. He positioned himself next to the dark-haired man, leaning back against the headboard. “Like this?”

“Mmmhmm.”

Crawling up the bed, you straddled Jungkook. Slowly, you sank down on him, both of you sighing blissfully as you did.

Then you reached out, winding the chain around your hand, jerking him forward as you began to bounce on his dick. You crushed your mouth against his, swallowing the heavenly sounds he made as you rode him.

But you didn’t forget about Taehyung. The hand not wrapped around Jungkook’s harness crept towards his lap. Tearing yourself away from Jungkook’s lips for a moment, you tilted your head towards Taehyung.

“May I?” Your hand hovered above his cock, waiting.

He nodded.

Jungkook grunted in your ear, his teeth nibbling on your lobe, as you wrapped your hand around Taehyung and began to stroke. You gripped him as best you could, unable to close your hand around his thickness.

Taehyung’s head fell back against the headboard as he exhaled a guttural moan. The sound shot straight to your core and you clenched around Jungkook, who hissed.

You slowed your pace, rolling your hips to grind into Jungkook as you focused on pleasuring both men at once. From the wordless noises he made, you could tell that Taehyung was enjoying your hand, but it wasn’t enough for you.

“Taehyung,” you murmured. He glanced up. “I wanna taste you. Can I?”

He nodded.

You were flexible, but you couldn’t bend enough to take him from your current position. So you let go of Jungkook’s chain and pried his hands from your hips. “Be right back,” you winked, and before he could respond, you popped off of him, turning around.

“Fuck, you’ve got a great ass,” he muttered, hands reaching out to grope as you laughed and began to ride him, reverse cowgirl style.

“C’mere,” you purred to Taehyung. He towered over you on the bed, cock at the perfect level. You licked your lips and took him in.

You felt your jaw pop and knew that it would be sore tomorrow, but it was worth the pain. Quickly establishing a tempo, you alternated your mouth with your hands, stroking and sucking as he stared down at you, mouth falling open again in ecstasy. His fingers clutched at his sides, and you reached out, taking one of his large hands and placing it on your head, silently instructing him to take control.

As if that was the cue he’d been waiting for, Jungkook suddenly grabbed your hips, fingers curling into your skin, and began thrusting up into you, taking over the pace of your fucking. You moaned around Taehyung, saliva spilling over as you began to drool from the way Jungkook pounded into you.

But you were at the mercy of Taehyung’s hips now, too, as he began to fuck your mouth in earnest, mindlessly burying himself in the inviting warm wetness of your mouth. Breathy grunts and gasps accompanied every lunge of his hips.

A switch flipped in Jungkook as he fucked you vigorously, a surprisingly lewd stream of drivel pouring forth from his lips. “Fuck, you like that, baby? Like the way we fuck you? So fucking hot, taking us both like this. Wanna fuck this cunt all night, wanna make you cum on my cock ‘til you can’t see straight!”

You whined, frenzied, drowning in so many sensations. You were achingly close to climax, just needing a helping hand.

So you grasped Jungkook’s hand, guiding it from your hip down to your clit, and pressed his fingers against you.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against the nape of your neck as he breathed, “You need me, baby?”

Unable to speak or nod, you squeezed his fingers, hoping he’d understand.

He did.

You came with a shuddering cry, Taehyung pulling out of your mouth to let the sound fill the room. You turned to liquid in Jungkook’s arms, euphoric, melting against him as pleasure rolled through you. As you spasmed around him, he came as well, chanting your name as he released inside you, filling the condom with his hot seed.

Taehyung pumped his cock, panting hard. “Baby,” he gasped out brokenly, “baby, I’m gonna… where can I…”

You opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue.

He groaned as he came down your throat, dark eyes widening as you licked him clean.

Jungkook sagged against the headboard, and you smiled as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest. You cocked your head up at Taehyung, and he read the question in your eyes, curling up beside you and resting his head on your thighs.

The three of you laid that way for several minutes, until Jungkook broke the silence.

“So… still in a hurry to leave?”

Hoseok called you the next morning, waking you from a dead sleep. You grumbled a hello.

“Morning, sugar! I don’t know what magic you worked with Taehyung and Jungkook, but now the other band members are asking for their own harnesses. They’re placing their orders as we speak.”

“Oh,” you grunted, your left eye falling shut as if you were trying to half-sleep while talking. “That’s nice.”

“Oh yeah!” He paused. “Hold on, text from Yoongi. Let me put you on speaker so I can read.”

You switched eyes.

“Huh, ok, looks like they also want a private fitting. Well, I don’t know how quickly you can make their pieces, but he says they’ll be back in town in a few weeks. Do you think you could arrange to meet Jin and Jimin then? They're the other guys in the band. Oh, they’re offering to host you again, said they’re happy to do it.”

You pondered for less than a millisecond. “Yeah, I can probably arrange something.”

“Great! Yoongi said they can’t wait to have you.”

A/N II: Part two coming at some point! (Update 5/24/22 - it's here!)

You opened your eyes to the incessant knocking on your door and peeled yourself from your couch to open it, utterly annoyed.

“What?”

“Get your ass up. You’re helping me with the brownies for tonight.”

“Min, I’m taking a fucking nap!”

“Did I say let's negotiate the terms of your compliance? Fucking move.”

Minho grabbed your keys from the bowl as well as your wrist and closed the door behind you. Once you passed the threshold of his place, you noticed a bunch of baking ingredients on his kitchen island as well as a sweating large stemless glass with the giveaway trace of his Aperol Spritz recipe. 

Powdered sugar. Minho always rimmed his refrigerated glass with powdered sugar.

“You’re drinking when you bake?”

“You know it. Help yourself, glasses in the freezer.”

You grabbed yourself an ice-cold glass, stained the rim with triple sec just enough to function as an adhesive, and dipped it in the sugar. Then you poured the mix Minho already prepared in a pitcher over ice and downed it in one go.

“Oh, fuck yeah, that hit the spot,” you furrowed your brows upon the refreshing sensation, “So, what can I do for you, master?”

"Whip these egg whites. Mixer over here," Minho pointed to the drawer to his left side instead of picking it up and handing it to you himself. You let out a tired exhale and made your way over to him. While you were trying to get the hand mixer, you dropped a bunch of wooden spoons, and when you reached down to get them…

“OW! HELLO?!”

“What?” Minho looked at you all innocent.

“The reason, my man?”

“That ass is just too spankable,” Minho licked the rim of his glass and took a large gulp from the drink, “Why do you keep bitching about it? I know you like that.”

“A ‘brace for impact’ warning would have been nice.”

He put his glass on the island with an aloof look, “Don’t ask for it then.”

“HOW AM I EVEN ASKING FOR IT?”

Minho bust out a cackle, knowing damn well you would walk right into his tease traps, and in the meantime dipped his finger into the mixing bowl in front of him for a taste check. Then he offered the same finger to you for confirmation.

“Does this taste okay?”

You licked the batter and pressed your tongue on your palate to decide whether it was missing anything, “Mm, tastes a little bland.”

As you were stating your opinion, you noticed the subtlest hint of a flustered state on his face. Minho gulped at your motion and averted his eyes, which meant the opportunity to mess with his head presented itself.

Fucking finally.

“I’ll add some more sugar,” he declared and downed his drink.

Minho was engrossed in the simplest of activities: measuring and pouring sugar in the mixing bowl, but for some reason, from where you were standing you had a completely different vision of him.

His posture was perfectly upright on the stool he was sitting on, brows furrowed in concentration, legs on either side basically manspreading, the veins on his defined arms traceable with naked eye and begging to be felt, his sandalwood cologne intoxicating you faster than that damn Aperol Spritz… 

That notorious night, both of you kept using no tomorrow as an excuse to fuck each other’s brains out, but tomorrow did arrive. 

Now what?

Once he was done mixing, rather than his finger, Minho extended the entire mixing bowl for you to taste, “How about now?”

You held his gaze for a brief moment and just went for it. You grabbed his finger gently, dipped it in the mix, and sucked on it, swirling your tongue in the meantime. For a little longer than necessary.

“Much better,” you clicked your tongue, “But I can’t really tell whether you added the right amount of sugar or if it’s just your fingers. You keep touching the rim of your glass.”

Minho examined your expression for the briefest of moments and when he broke into that infamous grin of his, you could swear something snapped in his eyes as if he was challenging you to a duel.

“Wanna test your hypothesis?” he asked you very casually.

“What do you mean taste my hypothesis?”

“Test,” he repeated with a grin, put the mixing bowl back onto the kitchen island, and made his way to your side. He put his elbows on the counter next to you and looked up at you from a lower angle.

“Is there something you wanna ask from me, Y/N?”

Get it together. You’re supposed to mess with him, not the other way around.

"No."

"Are you lying to me?"

"N-no."

"Sure,” he chuckled softly, “nothing says honesty like stuttering."

Minho placed a finger on your bare arm and slid it down like a feather. You shuddered.

"Does it perhaps have something to do with you regretting the worst mistake of your life that is friendzoning me?"  

HAHAHA, RICH!

You? Trying to mess with The Lee Minho? The untameable 10th Dan™?

What the actual fuck were you even thinking?

"It's nothing, Min.”

Minho walked right behind you and pressed himself onto you like he was trying to occupy the exact same space as you. His broad chest flush against your back like that made you wanna slam your fist onto that cutting board to get a hold of yourself. He spoke directly into your ear with the softest of whispers while slithering his hand over the waistband of your shorts.

"So if I slip a finger down there, you’re not gonna leave a stain on me. Is that what you're saying?"

Minho came dangerously close to the crook of your neck and inhaled every single drop of the perfume of your shower gel.

"Your vibrator ain’t exactly soundproof, baby. Do you really want me to expose you?"

"Minh-"

He turned you around with a swift movement and trapped you against the kitchen island.

"I'm right here. You already know you can ask me to get you off whenever.”

Just WHY the FUCK was he this irresistible? Minho was literally the most selfish, way-past-borderline-level-narcissistically-in-love-with-himself person you’d ever come across, and yet there was nothing sexier than his cockiness. Especially at that moment. It made absolutely no fucking sense.

"Damn baby, just with a spank?” he made a V sign to show you the trail your juices made between his fingers and licked it clean, “Was it really that delicious?"

“Your- Your window’s open, Min.”

“So?” he mouthed from your neck, still sucking on it.

“We're literally broadcasting this for the entire neighborhood to see.”

“Don’t care,” he groaned, “If they wanna watch, let them. Eye candy is not something that common around here.”

Minho suddenly lifted you up to place you on the kitchen island and sat on the stool in front of you. 

"I didn't get to do this the last time,” he licked his lips like he was about to eat after being starved for days, “Fair warning, no one's head game is ever gonna be good enough for you after this."

He expertly removed your shorts and underwear, and spread your legs open for him. The level of passion and hunger dripping from his eyes was deliriously delicious. It was so excessive that you literally almost came with that first swipe on your folds. 

“Are you fucking kidding me with this? What have you been hiding from me all this time?”

Minho turned you into a writhing mess under him within mere seconds, dragging his tongue everywhere. Your thighs, your lips, your folds, your clit, your entrance, just sucking on everything he came across and not leaving a single spot unteased. He savored every single note of the moans he extracted out of you, but it wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough until they morphed into unhinged screams of his name, alerting every living soul in the vicinity that it was Lee goddamn Minho fucking your brains out.

Minho grabbed the little bottle of vanilla extract laying on the island, dripped it over your clit like that was some massage oil, and began aggressively munching on it.

“FUCK! You're so gonna wish you were able to lick yourself,” he frowned and swiped his fingers to collect your essence now laced with vanilla, “Suck.”

Minho almost lost his mind once you took all his fingers in your mouth as if you were deepthroating him. He kept gently rubbing you with the thumb of his other hand while you were licking his fingers clean.

“So swollen already. So ready for cock.”

He was contemplating ten different ways to make you frantically cum on that counter, but the way you were blowing his fingers was so obscene that it finally forced Minho to snap.

“FUCK, do that to me. Suck me, baby, make me melt in that pretty little mouth.”

What could you do but oblige when he was practically begging you like that? You jumped down the counter and kneeled in front of Minho’s fucking magnificent thighs. It was literally impossible to resist choking on him when he was spread out for you like that, so you started deepthroating him on cue, one hand gently stroking his thighs. As you took him in your palm with just the right amount of firmness, he brushed your hair back and softly tangled his slender fingers in your hair.

“Ah, fuck, baby, that's it. All the way to the shaft, there you go.”

Minho kept watching possibly the sexiest thing he had ever witnessed in his life for some time and let himself bask in the ecstasy your ministrations provided him. Then he started giving you an explicit roadmap to follow.

“Fucking goddess. Work that tongue on me.”

You started swirling your tongue around his cock as you gently twisted it in your palm. The newly introduced sensation caused Minho to throw his head back.

“Fuuuck yeah, like that. Just like that.”

Minho did ask to melt in your mouth, but he couldn’t calculate it would be this intense. He felt himself slowly evaporate with every touch, every lick, basically every stimulation that came from you. He looked down at you again.

“Show me your tongue, baby. Stick it out for me.“

You pressed the tip of your tongue on his slit to collect the precum that was already leaking in your mouth and showed him how it mixed with your saliva in your mouth. Minho felt a piece of his mental faculties evanesce upon the sight.

“FUCKING- Who the fuck told you to be this filthy? FUCK-”

You leered at him and took him back into the warmth of your mouth. The replenished sensation started testing Minho’s limits.

“I'm trying really hard not to have you choke on this cock like you deserve. You know you deserve it, right?”

You nodded with your mouth full of him to the brim, still a perverse smile climbing to the edges of your lips.

“Down baby, down. Fucking soak me.”

You took out Minho’s cock with a loud pop and started working your way down to his balls. He kept instructing you along the way.

“That’s it, one hand on my cock. Keep touching me, yes. Pump it nice and firm.”

You did as he said and added a little touch on your own by gently humming on him. Minho winced at the sudden peak in the pleasure he was feeling, and as much as he wanted to keep savoring that delicious pleasure, he pushed your head gently further down.

“I'll give you a little secret. See that spot down there?”

“You mean here?” you coated your thumb with saliva and dragged it over his perineum.

“FUCK YEAH! Yes, baby, right there. Right fucking there,” he maniacally laughed, “You wanna know what that is?”

“I think I already know what that is,” you retorted with a cocky smile.

“Oh no, baby, you don’t. That's my annihilate button.”

What a dangerously sublime piece of information to be trusted with you, huh?

“And I wanna watch you make out with it.”

Your jaw almost dropped at how forward that was while it shouldn’t have because that was the Minhoest thing he’d ever done. Going next-level unfiltered when declaring the rawest of requests in the history of everything with shamelessness levels of an absolutely degenerate sex god. Yet, words didn’t mean shit when actions spoke volumes. 

And that was exactly why an utterly primal and carnal grunt ripped from Minho’s throat the second your lips and tongue touched the minefield he outlined for you.

“AH, FUCK Y/N, yes, baby, harder. SUCK IT HARDER! You're fucking KILLING me.”

You broke into a smile realizing that Minho indeed wasn't lying. He was fucking dissolving under your stimulations.

“FUCK, STOP! NO! I can’t cum like this,” he did his best to resist you although it killed him inside a little, “Get up, gorgeous. Let me take you from the back.”

Minho dove into your lips like he was trying to inhale you before turning you around against the counter.

“Fucking god, I love your ass,” he landed a delicious sizzle on you again. You giggled at his enthusiasm. 

“I always thought you were a thighs man.”

“Don’t project your shit on me, will you?”

“What do you mean project?”

Minho eyed you for a second before sitting back on the stool. He spread his thighs for you to appreciate them in their full glory, “Look at me when you touch them.”

‘You gotta be kidding me’, was your first thought, but you did as he said nevertheless. When Minho clenched his thighs upon contact, your eyes inadvertently fluttered.

“My fucking god-”

“That’s exactly what I fucking mean,” he retorted with a devilish grin, “You should see your face when you suck on them. Sit on me, baby.”

Minho helped you settle on his thigh, heavily soaking him in the process, and grabbed you from your waist for support.

“Ride it. Ride it like your life depends on it.”

That was maybe the one thing you had lowkey fantasized about besides sinking your teeth into that thick and juicy gorgeousness. You weren’t even able to count how many times you thought about just groping him behind the counter at the bar when he flaunted himself in those goddamn tight pants of his, outlining every single one of his muscles like that. The fucking live thirst trap…

“Feels good right? Feels so fucking good.”

“Oh, FUCK, Minho- More. More. PLEASE!”

“You want more?”

“Yes.”

“You want more, huh baby?

“Just FUCK ME ALREADY!”

Minho was just loving the torture he was causing you, but he was getting impatient himself, as well. He grabbed your nape for a very aggressive and wet kiss, and gave you your next instruction:

“Get up for me, baby. Let me hit that now.”

You turned around against the counter again and arched your back, expecting Minho to finally push himself in. However-

“Oh, no, no, no, I’m not letting you have it that easy.”

He dipped his fingers into the powdered sugar and offered them to you again.

“Clean this for me like you’re going at it on my thighs. I wanna see it spotless. Get it drenched.”

There was something about the way he spoke to you that almost got you blushing, making you feel embarrassed. Spotless it is, you thought to yourself, trying your best to recollect your composure and started working his fingers again. Once Minho deemed your cleaning worthy, he pushed those two fingers inside you, scissoring you open.

“Jesus FUCK, doesn't even stretch. Such a tight cunt.”

He suddenly kneeled in front of you to cover his entire mouth around your pussy and gave it a strong suck.

“And it’s all mine.”

You clenched upon his words, and considering it happened right in front of his face, Minho obviously noticed what he induced in you.

“Give me a fucking break, how the FUCK are you this sexy? Come here.”

He finally got you into the position he kept imagining you in, bent over his kitchen island with your ass up. Minho knew what he was about to get himself into since even his mere fingers were simply trapped within your cunt when he tried to move them.

“Minho!”

“God damn, baby, that’s it. Take it. All of it. I’m gonna stretch you open now real nice.”

You could feel it in your bones that Minho was using his very last drops of sanity not to just rail you flat right then and there, and it was taking a massive toll on him. You could feel every inch of him slowly traveling deeper inside you; you could feel how he was paving a way for himself to eventually hit you with pure lust-vision, not being able to see anything but him drowned in sheer pleasure and chanting his name and his name only. Over and over again. Until he unleashed himself into you.

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to. Nice and loud.”

“You.”

“Say it.”

“You.”

“Fucking say it!”

“YOU! FUCK- it belongs to YOU!”

You weren’t able to control how much Minho turned you on, so you inadvertently clenched around him.

“Don’t… Don’t do that.”

You clenched again. This time very much willingly.

“Don't clench.”

So that’s your kryptonite, huh?

“AH- Don't fucking clench, baby. I'm not gonna pull out if you keep doing that.”

You turned your head around to face him, “And no one's fucking telling you to. You know you’re supposed to cum inside, right?”

Minho’s smile was nothing short of demoniac at your words, “Oh no, no no no, that’s not happening until I hear you scream my name, you fucking goddess. Say it.”

“Minho.”

“Again.”

“Minho.”

“AGAIN.”

“MINHO!!!”

“FUCK, AGAIN!!!”

Minho slammed himself into you with all his might one last time before he erratically started spurting his load into you, bathing your walls completely with himself. Your own orgasm hit you so hard that it went straight to your head - you went numb for a second. Minho, on the other hand, straight up crumbled, and probably didn’t even remember who he was for a brief moment there. As he was still trying to catch his breath leaning on your back, you asked him in the most relaxed state you’d ever been in: 

“Shall we get ready, Min?”

“Yeah. Yeah, right,” Minho managed to pull up his shorts, placed the tray in the oven, and grabbed your wrist to drag you to his bedroom.

“How the fuck even is that getting ready?!” you protested. Minho didn’t even look at you when he answered.

“It is for round two, baby. No one's gonna care if we're fashionably late. I have some plans for that ass.”