°❀ chey.ೃ࿔*

It’s not that Jungkook necessarily despises his birthday—although it is tough to celebrate happily when your family is as strict and prim as his— but more that he doesn’t see the point in it. He would much rather spend money on himself, perhaps buying the new car he had his eye on. Not squeezed in the back of his car with his best friends.

They often lived a different lifestyle than he did. His friends worked hard as most people did in his circle, but they played harder. Weekends were swallowed up by clubs and bottle service and girls whose names they’d forgotten by Monday morning.

Jungkook had never quite understood the appeal. He had a company to inherit, a father who tracked his every move like a hawk and exactly zero interest in giving the man more ammunition. Jeon Wooshik had made it abundantly clear that the CEO seat came with conditions, and Jungkook had spent the better part of his twenties checking every box that his father had almost run out of things to criticize.

So, really, this whole thing is juvenile. Immature and foolish. But considering he’s blindfolded and handcuffed, he doesn’t really have a say in the matter. 

“Kook! We’re hereeee,” He recognizes Kim Seokjin’s voice, his hyung. Jin was four years his senior and had the emotional maturity to show for it exactly none of the time. He was Namjoon’s best friend first, then Jungkook’s by proximity, and somewhere along the way had appointed himself a permanent fixture in Jungkook’s life whether he wanted him there or not.

Kim Namjoon, though, he trusted unconditionally despite his laidback lifestyle. If Namjoon had signed off on this, there was a reason. Jungkook just wished the reason didn’t involve handcuffs.

“Alright, jokes fucking over. Can you take off this shit?” Jungkook asks flatly. 

He hears the car door open, and warm hands are guiding him out of the vehicle, little giggles and snickers filling the cool night air. 

“He speaks!” Taehyung cackles, arguably the most immature of them all. (Well, between him and Park Jimin.)

“What a grump,” Jimin adds, and he sounds closer, so Jungkook assumes it’s his soft hands leading him somewhere. “Look at his cutie little face.” 

“Feels kinda unfair I can’t see any of your faces.”

“Jungkookie,” Someone squeezes his cheek, and he has to fight the urge to punch the air. 

“Ugh, his pout is so cute, Jin-hyung,” Taehyung giggles again, and Jungkook sighs. He can already tell Taehyung is drunk, since he only laughs in such a way when Jimin is shamelessly flirting with him or he’s drunk too much soju. 

“I’m going to kill all of you—“

A hand finally yanks the blindfold off his face, as another undoes the handcuffs digging into his wrists. Jungkook blinks into the dark, vision swimming. When his eyes finally do adjust, six faces grin back at him, varying degrees of giddiness painted across their expressions. 

Jungkook surveys his surroundings as quickly as he can. He’s in a parking lot… it’s packed to the brim with all kinds of cars, none that are as expensive as his. Bass pounds in his eardrum from the nearby entrance, but when he cranes his neck to peer inside, he sees nothingness. A void that leaves everything up to the imagination. 

The front door is musty, worn down and guarded by one man who’s watching something on his phone. “Paradise” in flashing letters hangs off the top, flickering as though someone had forgotten to pay the bill. And underneath it, “Adult Club.”

Fucking hell. 

“What,” he says slowly, “is that.”

“Birthday surprise,” Jin jokes, and the boys giggle like schoolgirls. 

Jungkook looks over at Namjoon. Namjoon, to his credit, has the decency to look sheepish. His friends know him better than anyone. People don’t gain access to Jeon Jungkook easily—and yet they failed him so astonishingly he can’t even believe it. This goes against everything he stands for. Clubs of any kind are forbidden. Especially strip clubs, where any lone person can recognize him and report back to his father. 

As if Namjoon can smell the rebuttal on his lips, he rushes to argue, “It’s fun in there.”

Jungkook snorts, “I doubt that. If my dad finds out, I’m fucking toast.”

“Your dad’s not gonna find out,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “We’ve been here like once a month and you’re not allowed to take pictures. Out of respect for the girls or some shit.”

A shiver rolls down Jungkook’s back at the word girls. The thought of them annoys him already. “This is stupid, you know? I’m not even into this kind of shit.”

“Yeah, we know,” Taehyung slaps his shoulder, trying to steer him toward the entrance, but Jungkook is fortunately bulkier than him. “You’re the king of the land, Jeon Jungkook, refuses to touch a woman because he’s better than all of them.”

“Fuck off, Tae.”

“Dude, come on. Live a little. It’s your birthday and your boys want to treat you to a night of fun. How could you say no to that?” Jin begs, and Jungkook comes up with a plethora of ways he could say no to this.

Jungkook sighs, staring at the door. On the other side of it are things he cannot get involved in. He has a board meeting Monday morning he hasn’t prepped for yet. A pristine reputation that took the better part of a decade to build. He has a father who has Google alerts set for his name. 

He really, really should not be here. 

Jungkook turns to face the six faces staring back at him expectantly. 

“It’s your birthday,” Namjoon tries feebly one more time. 

“That is not the argument you think it is—”

“Jungkook-ah.” Jin steps forward and puts both hands on his shoulders. “We love you. We have always loved you. And it is because we love you that we are telling you, as a united front, that you are going inside that door if we have to carry you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jungkook retorts, and all Jin does is raise his brows back at him. Well played. 

The silence that follows is not reassuring.

Jungkook realizes this is one negotiation he is not going to win. Sighing, he shakes his head. “I fucking hate you guys. One hour tops, and I’m out of there.”

“That’s a good boy,” Jin pats his shoulder like he’s a dog and pushes him in the direction of the entrance. “Let’s get on in there.” 

The bouncer at the front seems to finally recognize he has a job when the seven men walk up, beady eyes scanning their faces before they land on Namjoon in the back. “Joon!” he calls out, reaching over to give him a firm handshake, nearly knocking Jungkook flat on the floor. Of course Namjoon knows the fucking bouncer—he’s probably reached some kind of reward status at this club. He doesn’t bother checking anyone’s IDs, just lets all of them sidle in.

Jungkook steps through the door and immediately wishes he hadn’t. Goddamnit.

Red lights flash over the club floor, speakers blasting some RnB song he doesn’t recognize. The place is enormous, larger than he thought, with a main stage dominating the room. Two strippers dance on the two poles adjacent to each other, men perched on chairs with wads of cash stuffed in their hands. Booths line the walls, packed with men in varying states of losing their minds. All decked in suits, loosened collars and flushed faces and eyes tracking the room with an attention they probably never give their actual jobs. Private tables closer to the stage are worse. Bottles everywhere, dollar bills everywhere. 

The worst part of it all, is how many girls there are. Girls in lingerie, silk and lace that barely constitute fabric, moving through the room in what feels like slow motion. Every single one of them moves like she knows exactly where she’s going and exactly what’s going to happen when she gets there.

“Kim Namjoon?” A hostess approaches in normal clothes—thank god—and he steps forward to speak to her, all hushed whispers and suspicious glances back at Jungkook. Enough for him to know that this night will be anything but casual. Jungkook expects he’ll have an ass in his face in twenty minutes tops. 

She smiles at all of them, clapping her hands to get their attention. “Hi boys! Welcome to Paradise. I know some of you have been here before, so I’ll keep it brief. No pictures or videos allowed. If we catch you, you’re banned for life. ATMs are lined up against the wall, so make sure you take out cash beforehand so you don’t have to get up.”

She pauses to ensure everyone understands, eyes lingering on Jungkook, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. It’s not rocket science. It’s a strip club. “I heard we’re celebrating a birthday tonight, so Joon has booked a private table for you all. Dancers will rotate by your table and you better make them feel like the shit, because they are. Got it?”

All boys nod in unison. Jungkook side-eyes Jimin and Tae, and already, they have heart eyes forming. It’s despicable. The hostess leads them through the room, weaving between tables without looking, heels silent on the floor, not once glancing back to check if they’re following. The private table is tucked a few feet off the main floor, with curved booth seating, a pole attached from the ceiling hanging right in front of them, and a clear sightline to the stage. Bottles are already sweating on ice in the center like they’d been expecting them (which Jungkook is certain is the work of his hyungs).

The boys pile in with zero decorum. Hoseok immediately reaches for a bottle, passing out glasses to pour up shots of soju and whiskey. Jungkook allows him to be overserved, because there’s no other scenario in which he gets through this night without being wasted. He doesn’t know where to look, which means he keeps looking everywhere. He’s not stupid — he knows objectively that women are attractive. He’s always known that. It’s just that knowing it theoretically and sitting in a room saturated with it are two very different things. 

Jeon Jungkook’s disinterest in women never stemmed from anything other than the fear of being mediocre. His high school life, which should’ve been filled with bad decision making and girlfriends, was instead taken over by shadowing his father at the office or learning how to use Microsoft Excel to make financial reports. College was a repeat, and he adapted easily to the hermit lifestyle he had been living. Even once he graduated, he made no attempt to date anyone. His mother, a frivolous woman who lived off the family money with ease, had once asked him if he was gay or asexual. Unfortunately for her, he is neither. 

He is just, quite literally, indifferent to what women can offer. 

That’s not to say Jungkook doesn’t get horny (hence dispelling the asexual rumors). Jungkook masturbates as often as most normal guys do, mostly when he’s frustrated by work. But instead of seeking respite in another woman’s vagina, he uses his own hand, which has worked perfectly well for him. 

And, well, there is this other… thing he’s kept locked with a key within him. Deep in his unconscious, something not even a therapist could uncover. The fear that he might be bad at it.

It sounds ridiculous when it crosses his mind for even a second. He does not do things badly. He does not do things at all until he’s certain he can do them well. That’s just how he's wired, has always been wired, the same compulsion that made him practice his father’s presentations in the mirror at fifteen until they were perfect.

It is exceedingly unfortunate that this is not something one can research into oblivion or competence. You learn by experience. And the idea of being in front of someone, exposed and vulnerable, makes him want to die. 

“Jungkook-ah, look at the girl in the pink,” Namjoon whispers into his ear, fighting to be heard over the bass. “She’s so fucking hot.”

His eyes wander over to where Namjoon is trying to subtly point. A girl in pink lingerie roams the stage, lashes batting flirtatiously as she lets the pole sit between her ass cheeks. Jungkook doesn’t have time to respond to his hyung before he’s being (rudely) interrupted by a girl in light blue lingerie, standing over their table with a smile. “Hi boys, how are we doing tonight?”

The boys, minus Jungkook, whoop and yell, and he wants to crawl into the booth and hide. They’re acting like wild vultures, and his brain is reeling trying to comprehend what’s unfolding in front of him. 

Before his mind can catch up, he feels a wad of cash slithering into his palm. 

“Just go with it,” Namjoon murmurs from beside him, already clapping.

He gulps as he peers down at the bills in his hand. The girl in blue has climbed onto the small raised platform in the center of their table, one hand wrapping around the pole. Up close she’s gorgeous—warm tanned skin, black curly hair spilling over one shoulder, a devious twinkle in her eye. 

Her hips roll in a figure eight, one hand trailing the length of the pole as the other moves down her waist. She turns, spine arching back, and the boys lose their collective minds. Bills flutter onto the platform like confetti, and a small smile contorts onto her plush lips. 

With both hands, she drops into a low squat, thighs spread, and comes back up in a languid motion. Hoseok physically slaps the table, tossing twenties to no avail. 

Okay, calm down, he thinks distantly. His heartbeat is picking up in his chest. 

She spins, one leg extending wide, the momentum carrying her around the pole in a slow arc before she hooks her knee and drops back in a hang that makes the fabric of her lingerie ride up her thighs. The light catches her and Jungkook forgets, very briefly, that he came here against his will.

Taehyung’s on his feet as fast as he can move. Jungkook can only watch in horror as Taehyung peels a bill from his stack and stuffs it right into the waistband of her panties. She giggles and turns toward him. Tae grins up at her and she leans down, curly hair falling forward, and shakes her chest right in his face.

Taehyung tips his head back and says something Jungkook cannot hear over the music, but it evokes another laugh from her. Jungkook’s mind is blank, save for the images of ass and tits flying across his vision. 

Jungkook sits very still and feels something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time shift somewhere low in his stomach.

He is not indifferent, it turns out.

He is just very, very in over his head.

The girl turns back to the rest of them, eyeing them up as though to decide her next victim. Her eyes linger on Jungkook for a few seconds, and his heart thumps out of its cage. 

He’s aware of what he looks like. He’s not a fool, after all. Tattooed arm, a body sculpted by Greek gods, multiple facial and ear piercings. The irony of it is not lost on him—all that packaging, none of the experience to back it up. 

He’s had girls lining up to talk to him, but not a single one that could hold his interest. Jungkook could care less.

But it seems she recognizes he’s not eager to talk to her, and so she focuses her attention on Jimin, who’s practically panting like a puppy left out in the sun for too long. She does a few tricks for him on the pole, all of which are rewarded with bills and yells. 

“Candy, you don’t plan on keeping these boys all to yourself, do you?”

A melodic voice, almost like a siren’s, floats into Jungkook’s ear. His body stiffens, muscles taut as his eyes avert over the table to spot a woman.

Jungkook’s not gay by any means. He’s also not fucking blind. The woman that stands before him is an angel, a goddess, a temptation for him sent from hell. Adorned in red lacy lingerie and white knee socks with red bows on them… utterly fucking delicious. 

He’s drooling. 

“They’re all yours, Angel,” the stripper, apparently named Candy, says with a grin, sliding off the platform, and just like that she relinquishes the pole like a crown being passed. In one smooth motion, you climb up, nimble fingers wrapping around the pole. Immediately, his friends turn into wild animals, even more explicit than before. Taehyung stands from his seat, eyes blanking as he observes how your thong hugs your hips and ass. 

You alternate through a series of movements—slow spin, then fast, one leg extended in a line. You hook your knee around the pole and lean back, hair falling away from your face, and the red lace catches the light. Jungkook’s higher brain functions vacate the premises. Money rains onto the platform, more than he expected. 

He realizes he’s also holding money, and it’s as though a lightbulb flashes above his head. Oh shit, he thinks. He wants to spend his entire wallet on you. 

You climb down and drop straight into Namjoon’s lap like you’ve known him for years. Kim Namjoon, the most composed man Jungkook has ever met, grins like an idiot. You lean in close to say something to him, pink, lush lips brushing his ear, and Namjoon laughs low before responding with a hushed whisper. 

Slowly, you pull away from his ear, eyes twinkling. 

And then you glance over at Jungkook. 

It’s a half-second, a flicker, the most minor redirection of your attention imaginable. A slide of your eyes that lands on him and then lifts away. 

His cock twitches in his pants. It is, quite literally, the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. In that moment, he realizes he wants nothing more than your attention, your time, you. But he just doesn’t know what he has to do to get such a thing. To be able to deserve a woman as delectable as you. 

A flutter of giggles escapes your mouth, cheeks ruddy as you get up from Namjoon’s lap.drifting around the curve of the table, all seven pairs of eyes track you like flowers following light. Taehyung fans himself with a hundred dollar bill, and you immediately gravitate towards him. 

Jungkook watches you kiss his cheek. Watches Taehyung’s hands find your waist. Watches him stuff a fistful of bills into the back of your lingerie, give your ass a playful smack that you welcome with a laugh. He wants to blow his brains out.

He deadpans at the ice bucket instead.

“Fucking hottest girl I’ve ever seen," Namjoon mutters beside him, just loud enough for him to catch, "Don’t you think, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook’s tongue is tied into knots. 

“She’s a sin,” Namjoon continues.

Across the table, you laugh at something Taehyung says, head tipping back, throat exposed, and the red lace shifts. Jungkook moves with it, recrossing his legs under the table and tugging his shirt down to hide the growing tent in his pants. 

Namjoon notices the movement, looking down for a millisecond before peering at Jungkook smugly. 

He claps Jungkook on the back, “Welcome,” he says, “to being a fucking man.”

“I hate you so fucking much right now.” 

“Your dick doesn’t hate me.”

He’s not technically wrong, per se. Jungkook just refuses to admit he’s right. 

Taehyung leans up to murmur something in your ear, and you pull back with a slow smile spreading across your face. 

Oh no. Oh no, no, no—your body turns to look directly at Jungkook.

Jungkook has closed deals worth nine figures, has sat across from men who built empires from nothing and held their gaze at the age of 20 without a care in the world. He has endured his father’s silent disappointment across a dinner table for 30 consecutive years.

Like a cartoon character with a fork stuck in his throat, he gulps audibly. 

You start walking toward him, your eyes piercing into it. They don’t leave his face not once, not even to check where you’re stepping or acknowledge the table erupting in cheers around you. 

Namjoon slides over calmly to make room, and Jungkook watches the space beside him open up and thinks what the fuck are you doing and means it directed at every single person in this room, including himself. 

You stop in front of him, and he peers up at you. In those heels, you tower over him, and he notices the smirk that’s curved upon your lips. Evil. You’re fucking evil. 

Trepidly, you sink down onto your knees, maintaining eye contact. 

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god —

His cock twitches so hard he has to lock every muscle in his body to keep from visibly reacting. 

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hi,” he replies with bated breath. 

You already know. He can tell you already know exactly what you’re doing to him and precisely how badly he’s losing. Somehow that makes it so much worse and so much better. 

Your hand comes to land up on his thigh, snaking up and up until he swears you’re going to stick your hand in his pants. You stop right on his inner thigh, feeling the muscle. He swears he sees a twinkle in your eyes at the realization. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm every nerve ending in his body. 

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” you whisper, trying not to be heard by the group of animals that he unfortunately calls his friends. 

“J-Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Jungkook.” You repeat the name with so much seduction it almost doesn’t even sound recognizable to him. 

You stand up, and he exhales the deepest breath. God fucking damnit. Of course you’re done with him—he stuttered his own name like he’d never used it before. He watches you straighten up and thinks okay. okay, that’s fine. that was a normal amount of humiliation for one evening.

But instead of leaving, your knee lands on the cushion beside his thigh, followed by the other one, and then you’re in his lap. The air leaves his lungs in one swift, silent evacuation. Your lace panties settle directly over the front of his pants and you shift forward, eyes panning down between you. 

With a lift of your brows, you move again. Shit. He knows what you found. He can feel exactly what you found and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it.

Shit shit shit—

“Look at little Kookie!” Taehyung’s voice echoes across the table, ringing in Jungkook’s ear. “He’s pink!”

Jungkook turns to look at his alleged friends with the dead eyes of a man considering his options.

And then he feels your warm hand, two fingers catching his jaw, turning his face back to yours.

“Don’t look at them, baby.” Your voice is low, meant only for him. “Look at me.”

God help him, he does.

Your eyes hold his for a moment that stretches longer than it should, and then—your hips gyrate forward in a slow circle. The warm drag of your hips moves against his, and nothing, not a single thing, has ever felt like this in his years of living. 

“You’re really pretty,” you giggle, looping your arms around his neck, rolling your hips in a figure eight that makes his vision white out at the edges.

Behind you, the boys are losing their minds. Money’s flying, and Jungkook cannot process any of it because you’re shifting again, turning so that your back is pressing into his broad chest. You lean back into him, head dropping to his shoulder, and the slide of red lace against his cock is making him see actual stars. He can’t hide the groan that escapes him. 

Leaning your head back to face him, you’re close enough that your breath fans across his jaw. “You’re so tense, pretty boy. These hands doing anything useful or just decorating the couch?”

He really can’t argue, because his hands are pressed flat against the cushions on either side of him, white-knuckled and rigid like he’s bracing for a car crash. “I—” he begins. 

“Need help?”

Helplessly, he nods. 

You reach down, take his hands and settle them on your hips. The lace is soft under his palms, plush skin warm to the touch. 

“Hold on right there,” you whisper. “Don’t let go.”

An actual, audible, involuntary whimper crawls up his throat and escapes before he can catch it. With his hands on your hips he can feel every single movement now, every roll and dip and shift of your weight, and it is so much better than anything he has ever done alone in the dark of his penthouse that it almost feels like a personal insult to every year that came before this one.

“F-fuck,” he exhales. "You’re so—you’re so g-good—”

“Yeah?” You straddle him once more, knees digging into the couch, your eyes pausing to glance at his lips before meeting his eyes. Your finger comes up, tracing slowly along his lower lip, catching on the small metal ring of his lip piercing and playing with it before releasing. “What a pretty piercing for a pretty boy.”

“You like it?” Jungkook feebly asks, even though he knows you do. Every girl likes it, but none have caught his eye the way you do. 

Silently, you reach past him then, fingers closing around the forgotten wad of cash still sitting on the cushion where Namjoon pressed it into his palm a lifetime ago. He watches as you lean back in his lap and drag the bills languidly across your chest, the red lace, down over the curve of your waist.

You peer up at him from under your lashes. “You were just going to let all this go to waste?” you ask, clicking your tongue.

“I—” he swallows. "I didn't know—like the protocol—”

The dopey smile that breaks across your face sends vibrations to his cock. “You’re doing so well for me already.”

You lean forward again, closing the distance, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hips keep moving. Without a second thought, he grips your hips tighter. 

Somewhere behind you, he distantly registers that the boys are no longer watching. Other girls have materialized at the table, except for Namjoon and Hoseok, who are deep in a drunk conversation. It’s just you and him. 

Your teeth graze his earlobe. “You know, when I saw you, I thought you’d be trouble.” A soft giggle leaves your lips. “Turns out you’re harmless.”

“I—” he starts, some distant fragment of pride assembling itself. “I’m not—”

“Harmless,” you repeat, pulling back to look at him. “The sweetest thing in this whole place.”

For an irrational moment, Jungkook forgets every reason why he can’t be caught here. 

And then it’s his father’s disapproving tone, thinks about the words you represent this family everywhere you go, Jungkook, everywhere, and the Google alerts and the face his father makes when he’s upset  and how Jungkook has spent his entire life trying to prevent that specific expression. 

He could call his driver, go home, pretend this whole evening was a fever dream. After all, this is exactly the kind of situation that becomes a headline. Jeon heir spotted at—

Suddenly, your hands leave his shoulders. The warmth of your weight lifts off his lap all at once and the absence of it is so sudden that his body mourns it, an embarrassing physiological grief response he didn’t know he was capable of. Left behind with a raging boner that is apparent to the naked eye. 

You smooth down your lingerie. Roll your shoulders back. And just like that the curtain comes back up, a polished version of you, like the last twenty minutes happened only to him. “Bye boys," you say to the table and the ones paying attention halfheartedly wave. 

Then you turn to him. “Bye, Jungkook. It was nice to meet you.” With a wink, you disappear off to the next table, and all he can do is stare at the space where you were once sitting, his cock standing tall and proud in his pants. 

He becomes aware, slowly, that Namjoon is looking at him. “Don’t start.”

“Wasn’t going to.” 

“Ah Jungkook-ah, you just need to fuck a girl and get it over with!” 

Kim Seokjin, for all his years of knowledge and wisdom, is a bit of a menace when liquor enters his bloodstream. 

Jungkook has become overtly aware of two things: 1) he’s the drunkest he’s ever been and 2) the boner in his pants has yet to go down. 

He had briefly considered going into the bathroom to jerk off, but that would be too obvious and embarrassing to admit, even to himself. Instead, he would much rather subject himself to the torture of his best friends and let three other women dance on him to erase the taste of you from his mouth. 

Each woman was attractive, but they didn’t entice him the way you had. Even after an hour of sitting at this couch, throwing bills upon bills, nothing felt as ethereal as the feeling of your weight upon him, as though he had claimed you. 

“I’m not just going to fuck any girl,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, tipping his head back to take another shot of whiskey. 

“Why not?!” Jin motions wildly with his glass, sloshing amber liquid alarmingly close to the rim. “You’re 30! You’re rich! You look like… that!” He waves his hand at Jungkook’s being. “What are you saving your best years for? Soon we’ll all be pumping ashes out of our cock—”

“Jin—”

“Dust will leak from our tips!-”

“I’m going to fucking murder you.”

“He’s waiting for love,” Jimin notes, words slurred from the effects of alcohol. A black-haired girl is draped across his lap, lips peppering kisses on his supple skin. “It’s actually very romantic if you think about it.”

“I am not waiting for love.”

“He’s waiting for her,” Taehyung whispers, pointing across the room. Without even turning to look, Jungkook knows they’re talking about you. Mostly because he hasn’t been able to stop looking at you for the past hour, heat rising to his cheeks when he watches you dance on other men. 

“The red lingerie girl has him in a chokehold,” Tae continues to nobody, nodding as though Jungkook is suffering from a grave disease. “I’ve seen this before. This is a chokehold situation.”

“No one except my dad has me in anything, Taehyung,” he argues. 

“Your cock has suggested otherwise,” Yoongi snorts, not even looking up from his drink.

Jungkook tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, thinks about how peaceful his penthouse is right now. How peaceful. How completely devoid of these people.

From his peripheral, he watches as Hoseok leans over and cups his hand around Namjoon’s ear. He has known Kim Namjoon for ten years and he knows exactly what Namjoon’s listening face looks like versus Namjoon's scheming face. This is the second one. Very much the second one.

Namjoon’s eyes light up, and Jungkook’s body has a visceral reaction. Namjoon turns to Jin. Whispers something. Jin’s face splits into a grin so enormous it looks like his lips will crack in two. 

Flatly, Jungkook asks, “What is happening right now?”

Not a single one of his friends answers. They’re doing the hive thing—buzzing between each other, passing from person to person, grins multiplying like a virus. 

Jungkook clears his throat. “Excuse me.”

Namjoon ignores his words and stands up. “Where are you going,” Jungkook blurts, panic bursting in his chest. “Namjoon. Kim Namjoon. Where are you—”

But he’s already gone, sliding through the crowd, and Jungkook watches him disappear toward the back of the club where a woman in all black is standing with a clipboard. The bottom of his stomach drops out completely. He turns to the remaining members of his betrayal circle. “Whatever he’s doing, stop it now—”

“Shh,” Jin serenely says, patting his knee.

“I don’t care that I’m younger, don’t shh me.”

“Shhh.” Jungkook shrugs him off and cranes his neck toward where Namjoon is now deep in conversation with the clipboard woman, nodding, reaching into his jacket pocket. His wallet comes into view. Fuck. 

Jungkook can’t imagine whipping out a wallet at the strip club is anything but bad news.

“I’m leaving,” Jungkook announces, planting both hands on the table. The way he sees it, he has about ten minutes to escape before he either blacks out or embarrasses himself even more. 

Two pairs of hands push him back down immediately. “You’re not going anywhere, big boy,” Hoseok tuts. 

“You’re detaining me.”

“It’s a birthday gift,” Taehyung argues, “You can’t refuse a birthday gift. It’s rude.”

“Watch me.”

Jungkook abruptly feels a slap on his back, and when he looks up, it’s Namjoon reclaiming his seat beside him, a sinister grin plastered on his face. “You’re welcome.”

Sighing, he shakes his head. “For what?”

“Happy birthday, Jungkook-ah.”

“That didn’t answer my fucking question, Namjoon.”

Before Jungkook can pester further, a shadow falls over the table. The woman with the ominous clipboard and headset is standing at the edge of their booth, and she doesn’t particularly look like she’s here to refill their drinks or anything tame. 

“Which one of you is Jeon Jungkook?”

Of fucking course. 

The boys erupt like zoo animals. Clapping, hollering, hands slapping his back from every direction simultaneously. Jungkook wants to cry, maybe throw himself off the balcony of his penthouse. 

The woman smiles at him. “Follow me.”

“What—”

Namjoon’s hand closes around his arm and hauls him bodily upright. “Up you go, buddy.”

“I’m not—this is—you can’t just—”

But none of it matters—his feet are carrying him, brain several steps behind. He’s following the clipboard woman through the club in what feels like cement shoes. As he walks, he peers around the club—other men at tables, women moving through the dim light to reach their poles, money piling on the floor. 

He is the only one who looks like he’s being escorted to his own execution.

The woman stops at a door at the back of the club. It’s unmarked, flush against the wall. She pushes it open, and the first and only thing Jungkook sees is red. Everything inside is red. A plush crimson couch curved against the far wall, red LED light bleeding over every surface. 

Even the color red turns him on now. That must be your doing. 

“Wait right here,” the woman instructs, stepping back toward the door. “Your private dancer will be here to join you shortly. 

“My what?!”

He’s so fucked that he might need to use a new word to describe how utterly fucked he is. 

The door slams shut behind her, a finite ending to his arguing. There’s no going back. 

His cock jumps in his pants, and Jungkook looks down at himself in indignation. Bad, he thinks. Bad. Bad dog. We are leaving.

But he thinks that even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t. He’s thinking of you, towering over him, asserting your dominance over him. He’s spent most of his life being in charge, and for once, someone else is taking the reins and letting him sit back. 

He stands in the middle of the red room until finally, his legs give up the principle of the thing and carry him to the couch. He should have known. From the moment Namjoon’s wallet came out he should have connected the dots because Kim Namjoon does not spend money without intention, has never done anything without intention, and Jungkook has known this for years and still walked directly into it like a fool.

Pressing both palms to his knees, wiping the sweat off them, he stares at the door. It might not be her, he reasons. It’s probably not her. There are lots of girls here. It could be anyone. 

It would be foolish to assume someone like you would not be taken already by another dominant, assertive man. Sure, Jungkook probably has the money that most men in this club dream of, but he doesn’t have an ounce of the confidence that he needs to handle you. 

Jeon Jungkook is currently sweating through an expensive shirt in a red room the size of a closet because a girl in lingerie might walk through that door. 

The door swings open and the first thing Jungkook sees is—red. 

Red flashes across his vision and it’s all he can see or think about. 

You step inside and the LED light catches the lace, makes your curves look like they were designed by a Greek god. For a moment, your eyes adjust to the dim light, averting around the space to try and make sense of your surroundings. 

But when they finally land on him, there’s a dangerous twinkle dancing in your eyes. 

“We meet again.” 

Loudly, he swallows whatever drool has accumulated in his mouth. The door clicks shut behind you and you move toward him, heels marking an agonizing rhythm against the floor.

Clack. Clack. Clack. 

He cranes his neck as you approach, tracking you up until you’re standing directly in front of him and he has to tip his head all the way back to hold your gaze. Your lips are freshly glossed with red lipstick, he notes. 

“You know,” you say, tilting your head, “I was starting to think you were scared of me.”

He opens his mouth (to say what, he’s not sure of.)

“Are you, Jungkook?” You pause, lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “Scared?”

Without a single reservation, yes, he is. But he’s not entirely useless—he’ll never admit that. 

Clearly, you take his non-response as an admittance of defeat. Your hand comes down, cradling the side of his face. Your manicured thumb traces his cheekbone. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything, you know. I know your friends booked this.” Your eyes are steady on his, reading him the way you’ve been reading him all night. “Or…”

He blinks like a teenage boy, saliva pooling in his mouth as you hold your words for a second. 

“Do you want me, Jungkook?”

Embarrassingly, devastatingly fast, his head bobs up and down before his brain has even finished processing the question. He wants to dissolve into the couch cushions and never be found.

Your smile breaks acros your features. Pearly white teeth come into view, the realest expression he’s seen on your face all night. “Good boy. Do you have any song requests?”

You turn toward the TV mounted on the wall, and he watches you move to it, your back to him now, and somehow that’s almost worse because he can just… look. He may be a virgin, but he’s not an idiot. Your perky ass is mere inches away from his face, and his fingers itch to reach out and squeeze the plush skin in his hand. 

With his eyes still trained on your ass, he says, “U-um. Anything. I don’t—I don’t care.”

“Hmm.” You bite your lip, scrolling. Jungkook begins to hope you never turn back around so he can relish in the shape of your ass all night. That would be well worth Namjoon’s money, he thinks.

The opening beat of a song drops from the speakers and Jungkook goes completely still. Of all the songs in the world, it’s his favorite song.

2.0 by BTS.

He’s not ashamed to listen to their music, despite them being a typical k-pop boy group. Their shit is catchy. Sue him.

You swivel back around and your hands come down onto his thighs. You lean down enough that your hair falls forward and he can smell your perfume again. His hands curl into fists at his sides.

Your eyes drag themselves down to his pants, like they’re ogling at the very unfortunate situation he’s unable to handle. Then they drift back up as if you saw nothing at all.

“You know,” you say, your voice dropping to something that would be condescending if it were anyone else. “I’ve had a lot of men in this room.”

He swallows back the bile that threatens to rise up his throat. He’d rather not think about them. .

“But none of them—” your fingers press into his thighs, just slightly, “I’ve wanted to have as bad as I do you.”

He can feel his jaw go slack, eyes widening to the size of flying saucers.

You smile. Lean in until your lips brush the hinge of his jaw, a bare whisper of contact that makes every nerve ending in his body stand at guard. “You have no idea how bad I want you.” 

Great. You must be attracted to tortured virgins who are rich and powerful but don’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman. “Lucky for you,” you pull back to look at him. “I’m going to take very good care of you.”

The weight on the couch shifts before he can really notice it, your knees digging into the sofa, until you’ve infiltrated every cell in his body. Above him, around him, your hands landing on his shoulders and squeezing, fingers pressing into the muscle there with a small sound of approval. 

Your full, warm body settles onto his lap as though you’re at home, and really, he doesn’t think there’s enough oxygen in the room. The thought of how little space there is between you two wrings a sound out of him that he will be taking to his grave. Your panties graze slow over the length of his cock. “Fuck—”

His head drops back against the couch, neck going loose, and he stares at the ceiling like it might offer him salvation. Potentially a trapdoor.

He can feel your eyes lingering on his face, and not a single thing can be done about it because every resource he has is currently being allocated to not cumming in his pants. 

Your clothed pussy drags over him through the thin barrier of your panties. He makes a sound that is not a word.

“There he is,” you murmur. Your hands slide from his shoulders up the sides of his neck, thumbs tracing his jaw, tipping his chin back down so he’s looking at you instead of the ceiling. “Stay with me.”

“I’m—” he tries. “I’m here. I’m very—I’m extremely here—”

The pace you set is torturing enough to make his eyes roll back into his head. Your lips curve. “You feel that?”

“I feel—” he swallows, “—yes. Yeah. I feel that.”

A hum leaves your mouth. Jungkook watches your eyes stay on his face and realizes with dawning, helpless clarity that you are observing every single reaction. Every twitch. None of it really matters, since he has no poker face left, has burned through every last reserve of composure he had somewhere around the moment you sat down.

Manicured hands slide down from his jaw to his chest, pressing flat against him, and you lean back to look at him from a new angle, hair falling over one shoulder, hips never breaking rhythm. 

“Relax,” you softly say, fingers digging into his chest. “I can feel how tense you are.”

“I’m not tense—”

You perk an eyebrow.

“I work an intense job—”

“Jungkook.”

“Fine. I’m tense or whatever," he admits, “and I would appreciate it if you didn’t hold that against me.”

You giggle, and his stomach erupts into a nest of angry hornets, bloodthirsty insects that rival those ‘butterflies’ people get when they fall in love. Jungkook doesn’t do girls. Never has. He feels the need to remind himself once or twice. 

“You’re doing so well,” you murmur, and your hips roll again, and he swears he can feel your folds against him. Or maybe wishful thinking. 

He just can’t fucking think straight anymore. 

“I-I’ve never done this b-before,” he whimpers as your ass rubs over his hardened length agonizingly slow. “I don’t r-really—fuck—talk to g-girls.”

His head falls back onto the couch again, small, erratic puffs of air escaping his lips. 

You lean into his ear, lips coquettishly brushing against the crimson, heated skin. “I know.” 

Kim Namjoon. When he gets his hands on him. It is so fucking over. 

Your hands leave his shoulders.  They move, traveling behind your back to undo the clip of your bra in one fell swoop. The red lace goes slack. You let it hang from two fingers, dangling, looking at his face the whole time. Then you let the red fabric drop to the floor.

Oh fuck. 

Everything he knows about boobs is from porn itself. But up close, he can see your hardened peaks, stimulated and perky, ready for him to suck and play with. They’re just the right size, enough to cup in his hand. You lean forward, bracing your hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head, closing the distance between you inch by inch until your nipples graze his chest through his shirt.

He shivers, cock twitching beneath you. 

“Sensitive,” you note with a whisper. 

“I have—I’m wearing a shirt—”

“I know.” Your lips brush his jaw. “Imagine if you weren’t.”

He grips your hips so hard the lace bunches under his fingers. “You have no idea,” you exhale against the hinge of his jaw, “what I want to do to you.”

“Tell me.” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice when it escapes him.“Please—”

You pull back to look at him, eyes an onyx black shade, lips parted.

“Have you ever touched yourself, Jungkook?” You punctuate your question with another slow grind. He whimpers in response, and the shame of it hardly registers because his cock is twitching and pulsing against his slacks, his boxers already damp with his arousal. He has never been less in control of his own body.

“Answer me.” Your nail drags across his jawline. 

Jungkook can’t breathe. All he can do is grip the couch and try not to fall apart in front of a woman who looks like she has never fallen apart in her life.

“Y-yes.” he croaks, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I do.”

“Hm.” Your hips roll again, the lace of your panties catching against his slacks perfectly, perfectly, and his brain halts all coherent thoughts. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

He thinks about women, mostly. They’re usually abstract, faceless, nothing like you. Nothing like the warm weight of you in his lap or the way you smell. Usually the entire ordeal takes him four minutes and he goes to sleep feeling embarrassed about the whole thing.

He does not say this.

“I— I think about girls.”

“Just girls?”

Your eyes peer down at him, sparkling with wonder. Your lips graze his cheek and every single neuron in his body fires at once. He’s going to fucking pass out.

God, he’s an idiot. He should’ve been having sex years ago. What was he so busy doing? Working? He gave up this for spreadsheets and impressing his father?

“Y-yeah,” he exhales. “Just—yeah.”

A small sound escapes you, something like a moan. The thought that you could be finding pleasure from this makes his cock pulse desperately in the confines of his pants. 

“Well.” Your hand finds his, lifts it, and presses his palm to the curve of your hip. Guiding his grip, guiding your own rhythm, you turn him into an active participant in his own undoing. 

“Next time you touch yourself.” You pick up the pace, slowly but steadily. “Think about this. Think about me. And how bad I want to fuck you.”

Fucking hell. 

His eyes squeeze tight, tight, tight. Tries, desperately, heroically, pathetically, not to cum. Jungkook groans, and he feels your fingernails dig into his broad shoulders for stability as your movements become more frantic.  

“F-Fuck,” he chokes out. “That feels so good.”

“I bet it does, baby,” you purr, and your angelic voice quells the fire in his core. “Bet your cock has been hungry for female attention, hasn’t it?” 

“No.” Jungkook hastily replies, “N-No, just for you.” 

He’s so fucking close, precum leaking out of his tip incessantly as each grind gets him closer and closer to his orgasm. Your tits bounce in his face, and he opens his eyes to see the sight that will forever be imprinted in his brain. Probably stored in his spank bank for the rest of time. Your cheeks are ruddy, eyes piercing into his, hair moving wildly, lace panties hugging every curve. 

Fuck. 

He’s going to cum untouched, like the virgin he is. 

Underneath the red lights, your hand finds his, and you guide up, up, up, press his palm flat against your chest. Your eye contact doesn’t waver. “Fuck,” he groans, “fuck, I’m—”

You watch him with a faint smile on your face. Without instruction, his fingers find your nipple, toying with the hardened peak lazily. Rolling them softly, you make a small sound above him and a lightbulb goes off in his brain. 

This is good for you too. You like what he’s doing. Holy. Shit. 

He continues to massage your nipple as you rut against his thighs, and it’s only a matter of time. He is a virgin, after all. 

Jungkook feels his cock twitch in his pants once, twice, before he’s moaning and whimpering as spurts of hot cum fill his boxers. His hand tightens around you on instinct, a sound leaving his throat that he has never made in his life, not once, not like this. He rides out his orgasm, shuddering and cursing under his breath, and your hips slow to ease him through it. 

He’s not sure how long he cums for, if he’s ever even cum this hard before. But when it does finally end, he slumps back against the couch like his skeleton has resigned. Staring at his face, your own movements still. 

Jungkook doesn’t keep track of time, only cares for the loss of the feeling of your body on his. You stand up, using his thighs for leverage to steady yourself. 

Placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, your eyes twinkle as you grin at him. “Come and find me when you’re ready, pretty boy.”

Jungkook sounds like a broken record everytime he reminds himself he doesn’t do girls. He’s already convinced himself that his attraction to you is some sort of rebellion against his virginity. 

That’s the only explanation as to why he’s standing outside Paradise Adult Club at 7 PM on a Monday holding an extravagant bouquet of red roses. 

Definitely has nothing to do with the fact that his Sunday night was spent wallowing in despair, cringing at how fast he came in his pants after you dry humped him for five minutes. No, that piece will live in his brain exclusively. It’s embarrassing to admit how much of an effect you’ve had on him. 

He’s never done anything nice for a girl in his life. Never took someone on a date, bought them flowers or jewelry, never held their hand just because he wanted to. He finds that shit cheesy, especially when his dad is yelling at him about some document from ten years ago. 

But then again, he can’t say a lot of girls have had the effect on him that you do. You had him throwing his truths and ideologies out the window, disappearing under red lights and red lace and just… he really fucking loves the color red now. 

The idea to stop by your place of work was a bold one, he can admit that much. It’s just that your last words to him before you strutted off ‘come and find me when you’re ready, pretty boy’ didn’t leave much room for representation. When he’s ready? Ready for you? Pretty sure he was ready for that the moment you laid eyes on him. 

Or, maybe you were referring to being ready to lose his virginity. He’s certain Namjoon has set him up for failure, probably mentioned numerous times everyone thought he was gay. In that case, Jungkook was also more than ready, but only if it was to you. Only if it was to see your tight little pussy swallowing his cock whole, eliciting those same sounds you did a few nights ago. 

Fuck, he needs to have you. 

“Excuse me? Sir?” 

A brunette hostess with a mousy voice jolts him out of his daydream, his cheeks rosy as if he’s been caught sniffing your panties. Her eyebrow is raised in confusion as she eyes the bouquet of roses. Chances are slim to none she’s ever seen those around a dance club before. 

“Yes. Hi. I’m looking for—” he stops.

Oh. Jungkook comes to the very hapless realization that he, in fact, does not know your real name. He knows your stage name. Candy called you Angel. That’s what he has. Angel. Which is a stage name, obviously, not a real name, and showing up to a woman’s workplace asking for Angel with a bouquet of roses is somehow worse than what he’s already doing.

“She works here,” he starts.

The hostess blinks. “…several women work here, sir.”

“Right. Yes. She was, uh, she was working Saturday night. She had—” he gestures vaguely at his own chest, “—red. She was wearing red.”

“A lot of women wore red on Saturday too.”

Her patience is wearing thin. 

“She had pretty hair.” He’s aware of how this sounds. “And she was—” another vague gesture, this time at his own face, “—she was very. You know.”

The hostess does not know. Her eyebrows are migrating slowly toward her hairline.

“Pretty,” he finishes, lamely. “Very pretty. Like, showstopping pretty.”

“Tall? About this height?” The hostess holds her hand up.

“Yes.”

“Works the private tables?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nods. “And uh, private rooms too.”

Something clicks behind the hostess’s eyes. Her brows lift in a completely different way now, a hint of recognition mixed with amusement.

“[Y/N]?” she asks.

[Y/N.]

He turns the name over in his head. Lets it settle. What a gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl, he thinks. 

(It’s his first crush, so he lets himself be as shameless as he needs to be about it.)

“Sure,” he says. “Yes. That one. [Y/N].” Your name. He knows your name now. He likes it more than he has any reasonable right to. “Is she—can I—”

“She’s off today.” The hostess smiles at him, fake sympathy seeping through the gesture. “Sorry.”

Jungkook grips his bouquet of roses until his knuckles are white. “Oh,” he says.

“Yup.”

He looks down at the bouquet. Red roses, obviously, because he’s been colonized by a color. He’d had his assistant order them this morning and had not explained why and the look on her face had been something he’d also be taking to his grave.

“Is there any chance—” he starts.

“I can’t give out personal information, sir. Our dancers lead private lives outside of their place of work.”

Jungkook sighs, weaving his fingers through his hair with his free hand. He can’t blame the hostess for her unwillingness to help, but he can’t let you get away. “No, I know. I wasn’t going to—Could I leave these for her? Is that… is that something that’s allowed?”

The hostess looks at him for a long moment.

Then she sighs, rolling her eyes and beckoning him further into the club. “Follow me.”

Somewhere, there’s a god he’ll be thanking later. 

The hostess leads him through a narrow hallway, behind the main floor, past a few closed doors, stopping at one left slightly ajar. When she pushes it open, it’s empty, save for the scattered lingerie and perfume bottles on the floor. 

“You can just leave them there,” she says, gesturing at the vanity.

She turns to leave. He hears it distinctly, murmured under her breath as she goes, “Amateur hour.”

Jungkook chooses not to acknowledge that.

He steps inside and sets the roses down on the vanity, straightening them slightly, then immediately feeling insane for straightening them and stopping. Jungkook doesn’t mean to look around, but his ADHD gets the best of him as his eyes wander. 

Your setup feels very you, although he’s only been aware of your existence for two days. The vanity mirror is framed with warm bulb lights, surface below it an organized chaos of things he has no reference for—foundation bottles and setting sprays lined up like little soldiers, a tray of eyeshadow with so many colors he can’t identify half of them. There’s trays of lip glosses, shades of red and pink that sent his brain into a tornado of horny thoughts. 

And, yeah, that’s enough for today. 

He turns to leave, trying to avoid eye contact with any of your other belongings he might find. But on the chair by the door sits a pair of panties.

Black. Lacy. Small enough to fit in one hand.

He stares at them, and they stare back. Every single rational thought he has ever had in thirty years of living lines up in his head and says, collectively and in unison: do not.

His hand moves independently of his brain, reaches out, closes around the fabric, and tucks it into his pocket in one fluid motion. Fuck. He did not plan that. That was not a decision he made, that was a decision his hand made, and he and his hand are going to have a very serious conversation about boundaries later—

He walks quickly, practically jogging. His shoes are loud in the hallway, he just needs to be outside, needs air, needs to be somewhere that isn’t the room where he just stole a woman’s underwear like some kind of pervert. 

“Have a good evening, sir!” the hostess calls from the front.

“Yep,” he quickly retorts, not stopping.

The door swings shut behind him and the cool night air hits his face. Luckily, his car is still waiting at the curb. It’s a miracle his driver hasn’t left him for dirt, despite Jungkook telling him to not wait for him. Maybe he also thinks Jungkook is a big, fat loser and knew he would need a backup plan. 

Jungkook gets in, stares straight ahead.

“Home, sir?”

“Immediately,” he says. “Please.”

With the knowledge of the black panties sitting pretty in his pocket, his cock puffs up in his pants, poking at his boxers, begging for air. Jungkook suddenly feels sweaty, even with the aircon set to 60 degrees. 

By the time Jungkook gets home, he’s a full-on mess. His cock is leaking precum at the tip, dripping into his Calvin Klein boxers. He’s never felt like this before, never been so undeniably hungry for someone that his whole body feels like it’s on the verge of collapse. 

Jungkook stumbles into his bedroom, sitting down on his bed and pulling out the pair of panties with shaky hands. 

He recognizes this is not a defense, merely an observation—he has never stolen anything in his life. He is a man of principle, of discipline, of self-control that has served him exceptionally well for three decades. He has walked away from bad deals, bad investments, bad decisions, more times than he can count.

He cannot seem to walk away from this.

Jungkook brings them up to his face slowly. Presses the fabric against his face and inhales. The fabric is warm, floral detergent filling his nostrils, and he falls back against his mattress as though his spine has stopped working.

“Okay,” he says to the ceiling. “Okay.”

He is so far gone it’s almost funny.

Almost.

His veiny hands find his waistband. The pants go first, then his boxers shoved halfway down his thighs, and when his cock finally springs free it’s so painfully hard he actually hisses, slapping against his abdomen. 

Thirty years old. CEO-in-waiting. Multiple degrees. Fluent in three languages. Lying in his bed with stolen lingerie and the most humbling erection of his life. He rushes to sit up against his headboard, otherwise his skeleton will fail him and he’ll fall straight down on his bed again. His cock is flushed, angry and red, glaring at him. The veins on the side of his length protrude, and he quickly gathers the seed of precum that’s spurted at the top to spread it around his tip. “Fuck,” he groans, head hitting the sturdy wood behind his head. 

Jungkook lets saliva fall from his mouth right onto his cock, too desperate to search for lube or lotion. Another quick glide of his hand up and down his length, and he’s painfully hard. Your black panties are strewn to the side of his mattress haphazardly, and he makes eye contact with them for a split second. 

He grabs them in his right hand. The lace is soft in his fist, softer than he expected, delicate little scalloped edges. He wraps the pair of panties loosely around his cock, and the sensation of it sends his brain into overdrive. Against him, the lace looks improper, something immoral. 

He is a little ashamed of himself.

Unfortunately, he is also completely unable to stop.

He guides his hand up and down his length, at a pace that he normally goes at when he’s just frustrated. His brain supplies images in snapshots—the weight of you in his lap, hips rolling against his crotch. He thinks about your chest, bare in the red light. The small sounds you made when the pace shifted and you stopped being professional about it for a microsecond. He thinks about your hands guiding his, hold on right there, pretty boy. 

Your thighs bracketing his, what it would feel like if there was nothing in between them… if you were actually—if he could actually watch you ride his cock, bouncing up and down on it as your tits moved in his face. He would probably press his face into them, so perfectly plump and ready for him. 

“God, [Y/N],”  he chokes out, to nobody, to the ceiling, to the concept of you existing in the world without his knowledge for however many years before Saturday.

Jungkook jerks himself off faster, twisting his hand at the ase just how he likes it when he wants to cum fast. His hair falls into his eyes as he looks down at the way your black panties are now covered in a mix of his saliva and precum. 

He wants to see you covered in his cum, maybe on your perfect tits or those glossy lips, taking every ounce of him that your body can manage. He bets you would take it like a good girl, would do anything just to please him and suck him dry of his money. 

It doesn’t take long before his mind is spiraling down a drain and he’s on the brink of his orgasm. It was never going to take long. It bubbles in his core, the knot in his stomach unfurling, and then he’s cumming, with a loud whimper and a “Fuck, fuck. [Y/N],” staining your panties with hot, white ropes of cum. Jungkook doesn’t know how long his orgasm lasts, just that he’s never cum that hard in his entire life, not with the essence of you on your panties lingering so nearby. 

For a long time, he sits on his bed, panties still balled in his fist. He sets them down very carefully on his nightstand like they’re evidence. In some sick twisted way, they are. They’re evidence of whatever is happening to him, whatever you cracked open in that private room, whatever he has blindly been waiting thirty years to feel and was not prepared for when it finally arrived.

But Jungkook knows one thing for sure: he can’t go on like this. He has to have you, one way or another. 

Sometimes, you really fucking hate your job. 

Men over the age of 40, married with two kids, will treat you with such disregard, as though you’re a piece of meat lucky enough to be desired by them. Your boss, Natalie, is a fucking cunt who takes half your earnings some nights, just to assert her dominance. Some nights, it’s so slow that you and the other dancers watch paint dry on the wall in your dressing rooms. 

But sometimes, when the stars align and the universe throws you a bone, you really, really love your job. 

Those nights are harder to come by. Usually, they start with a man throwing wads of cash at you, or stuffing them into the hem of your panties. They end with a private lap dance in the red room, where you rake in enough cash to pay off ten months of rent in advance. 

But in the case of Jeon Jungkook, although your night started and ended the same way with him, you were utterly, completely intrigued by the harmless creature you had made cum in his pants last weekend. 

His friends had showered you with cash, but Jungkook sat back in fear, watching you with a hypnotized gaze that never wavered. It was like he was captivated by every movement, hanging on every gyration of your hips. Namjoon didn’t need to tell you he was a virgin. You could smell it on him, something you predicted with just one glance. 

And now, that virgin had infiltrated your every thought.

When you stumbled into the club on Tuesday, you saw the fresh bouquet of red roses lying on your vanity, and immediately knew who they were from. Sure, you had other older suitors at the club, some regulars, but none that would bring you flowers or shower you in anything but money. No, this was the gift of a boy, someone who wasn’t quite yet a man. 

Quite honestly, you wanted to defile Jeon Jungkook. 

So you waited. You waited and you waited, but he didn’t show up all week. By Friday, you were beginning to lose hope of seeing the aforementioned man again. You settled back into your old routine, hoping to get him off your mind with older, more forward men. It’s not like you were having sex with them. It’s a firm line you never wanted to cross, made that clear the first day you started. 

It’s also not every day a hot, buff, tatted guy with bunny teeth and puppy-dog eyes walks into your club.

Saturday begins the same way it always does. Saturday nights at Paradise run like a well-oiled machine, and you are one of its most valuable parts.

The private tables are usually packed by 9PM, main stage rotating girls every twenty minutes. Bartenders furiously make drinks for eager men with open wallets, scanning for a dancer they can claim as their own for the night. You move through it with ease, a calming sensation spreading through your limbs. At least for now, this place has become your sanctuary. Or until the number in your head for your mother’s hospital bills finally hits zero.

Candy (also known as Lisa, but no one calls her that anymore) materializes out of nowhere, falling into step beside you. Since the day you joined Paradise, you two have shared a dressing room, secrets, lip gloss, and even underwear. She’s in gold tonight, hair pinned up, already counting a wad of bills from her regular client. Her hand connects with your bare ass, smacking the firm skin hard enough to leave a mark. “Lover boy show his face yet?”

“Haven’t seen him.” You adjust your bra strap without breaking stride. “Don’t think he can handle me, honestly.”

She snorts, “Yeah, no shit. Baby, he came in his pants from a lap dance.” She tucks the bills into her garter. “He cannot handle you. That’s the whole point.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going easy on him. Letting him come to me if he wants.”

Candy stops walking entirely to look at you. “You’ve never gone easy on anyone in your life.”

“I’m feeling charitable.” You try to walk around her, but she holds her arms out. 

“We don’t do free shit around here,” she squints her eyes at you, sizing you up. She knows you better than most people do, which is usually a positive, but has now turned into what you hate most about her. 

“Listen, the guy’s obviously a virgin.” You roll your eyes. “Not to mention, he’s fucking stacked. Like, loaded loaded. He’s also hot. Need I go on?”

She stares at you for a long moment as though she’s watching a car accident happen in slow motion. Then she opens her mouth to refute.

“CANDY. [Y/N].”

Natalie’s voice bellows across the floor. Your boss is standing by the bar in all black, clipboard tucked under her arm, wearing the expression she reserves for moments when she feels her 40% cut is not being adequately earned. “Floor. Now. Both of you. Please, for the love of God.”

Candy mouths a not-so-subtle we’ll talk later and runs off toward the main stage. You turn back toward the floor, scanning the private tables, already taking mental note of the bachelor party in the far left corner. There’s eight guys, sashes, someone wearing a veil ironically. They’d keep you busy for an hour tops, and everyone knows bachelor parties are where the money is—

Natalie’s hand lands on your shoulder, redirecting you with zero ceremony. “Not that one.”

You turn. “The bachelor party has—”

“Got it covered. I need you at table five.” She steers you firmly. “He’s alone.”

You raise a brow. “He got money?”

Natalie gives you a side eye that could scare kids on Halloween. “Yes, dumbass.”

“How much money?”

“Just enough.” She releases your shoulder and delivers a brisk slap to your ass that you choose not to comment on. “Make me proud.”

Cursing under your breath, you start toward table five, fluffing your hair as you walk, rolling your shoulders back. Chin up, gaze level, lips pouted. Table five is tucked slightly off the main floor, dim even by Paradise standards. 

As you approach the booth, you excitedly say, “Hi—”

The word dissolves in your mouth.

Because sitting at table five, in a dark t-shirt that hugs his tattooed biceps, turning a glass of whiskey between his hands nervously, is Jeon Jungkook. 

He lifts his eyes to yours. For a second, he has the audacity to look surprised, like he didn’t come here specifically. He blinks at you and his ears go bright pink. 

“Well,” you say, recovering first, “Look who found his nerve.”

His eyes rake over your figure, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. 

You don’t want to let the poor man suffer for too long. Swinging yourself into his lap, your knees straddle his thighs. A sharp inhale escapes him, hands flying up instinctively before freezing mid-air like he’s forgotten whether touching is allowed, ears going from pink to red in one second flat. “Nothing to be shy about, pretty boy,” you murmur.

He lowly whimpers. A soft and involuntary noise, his jaw snapping shut like he can take it back.

“I got your gift,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, tugging him an inch closer to you. His sculpted chest is pressed against your tits, and he doesn’t need to take his shirt off for you to decipher how buff he is. 

His eyes go wide. “Y-yeah? Did you like them?”

You tilt your head, lips brushing against his jawline. “How did you know my favorite color was red?”

(It’s not. Your favorite color is green, has been since you were seven years old. But he doesn’t need to know that, and the way his body tenses when you say it is worth every cent of the lie.)

“L-lucky guess,” he stammers, and looks so pleased with himself.

“You’re a smart boy.” You press a chaste kiss to his jaw, then to his neck, and you feel his cock twitch underneath you. He shifts a little, trying to hide it, but you press down further. 

His hands hover at your hips, still not quite landing, suspended in that same paralyzed uncertainty from the private room last week. 

“You can touch me.”

He doesn’t spare a moment. His hands land directly on your hips, curling into the fabric of your underwear that rides high. 

“Tell me why you came back,” you coyly bat your eyelashes. You know exactly why he’s here and what he wants, but you’ll let him tell you. After all, that’s what you instructed him to do. To come and find you when he was certain he was ready. Even though it was unspoken, he had to have known what you meant. 

“I–I wanted to, uh, see you,” he swallows thickly, struggling to maintain eye contact. 

“Alone?” You tilt your head. 

“My friends don’t know I’m here.”

“Ah, so I’m your secret?” you tease. 

“N-no!” He leans forward, brunette hair falling into his eyes. God, he’s so fucking cute. “No, you’re not. I just—this is new for me.”

“What is?”

Say it, Jungkook. Say it. 

“You… you know what.”

“You know,” you say, leaning in slightly so he can feel your hardened nipples through your bra, “most men who come in here alone aren’t shy about what they want.”

“I’m not shy,” he pouts. 

You roll your hips over his half-hard cock, and he exhales. “You’re right. I’m so sorry, Jungkook. You are a big, strong man.”

He owlishly blinks at you, trying to understand what mind game you’re playing on him. Not that it matters, since he’s putty in your hands. 

“So prove to me that you want me.”

You tip his chin up with two fingers, pulling his gaze back to yours. “Hey,” you say quietly. “Right here.”

Hurriedly, like he’ll lose the words, he says, “I touched myself to you. Like you said.”

“Yeah? Did you cum?”

“I did,” he pauses, mulls over his next words. “I came so hard I almost cried.”

“Wish I could’ve seen that.” You kiss his neck, teeth biting down on his soft skin before soothing it with your tongue. A sweet moan echoes in your ear as you suck on his skin, sure to leave a blooming purple bruise on him. “What did you think about?”

“You… and me.” Your lips travel to a different park of his neck, littering a new section with sloppy hickies. “You…ah, fuck… on top of me, riding me. Making me cum again. I wondered w-what it would feel like if there were no clothes between us.”

Your hands slide from his jaw down his chest, feeling him tense under every inch of movement. “And what did you decide?” you ask. “Would it feel good?”

“I think it would feel like—I think you would ruin me,” he whimpers. 

It’s written all over his face, plain and undefended, the way everything is with him, and you think about all the men who have sat where he’s sitting and uttered the complete opposite. Your hands drift lower, finding him at your hips, and you guide them up over your waist, ribcage, until his palms are cupped over your tits, fingers curling around you through the thin fabric of your bra.

He breaks your gaze. Looks down at his tattooed hands cupping your breasts. 

“Jungkook,” you say.

He looks back up like a puppy following orders from a trainer.

“Still with me?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, massaging your tits with his massive hands. “Yeah,‘m very—I’m extremely with you.”

You roll your hips forward and watch his eyes flutter. “Good,” you murmur, lips brushing the corner of his jaw, cheek, the soft skin below his ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

“You have?”

“Mhm. Kept thinking about how good you’d feel inside me.” Your thumb traces his lower lip, catching the piercing. His cock is hard against you now, has been since you sat down, and you roll over it slightly, enough to feel him inhale sharply through his nose and grip you. “I want you to cum inside me, fill me up the way I know you want to.”

“O-oh,” he breathes, rutting his hips up to feel more. “I want that too.”

“You’d take it like a good boy, wouldn’t you?” You tug at the piercing, running your fingers over his supple pink lips. 

“Y-yes, please. Anything.” 

His eyes are glossed over with lust, so much that you doubt he’s hearing a word you say. “I bet my pussy feels so good wrapped around your cock. Bet you’re—”

“How much?”

Huh?

Your brows furrow, and his hands halt all movements on your tits. “What do you mean?”

“H-how much for a private room?”

He eyes you expectantly, chest heaving. 

Of all the things you expected him to say in this moment, it was not that. You’re half naked in his lap, you just told him you’d been thinking about him all week, and he’s asking for a price point.

The old version of this interaction writes itself easily. You name the number, take him to the back, take his money, take what you want, and send him home by midnight. Clean cut. 

You’ve done it a hundred times. 

But then he’s looking at you with those eyes, looking like a kicked puppy. An obscenely wealthy, tattooed, jawline-having kicked puppy who brought you roses on a Tuesday and almost cried when he came. 

You genuinely, physically cannot take his money right now.

“I don’t want your money, Jungkook,” you say.

He stares at you like you’ve grown an extra head. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I—” he frowns, “—that’s not—you should take it, it’s fine, I have it—”

You shift in his lap, rolling your eyes. “I know you have it.”

“So just let me—”

“I want you,” you shrug. “Not your money. You.”

He goes still underneath you, like he’s running it back trying to find the catch. His brows pull together. “That doesn’t make any sense—”

And before he can question you any further, you kiss him. 

You don’t plan it. One second he’s trying to logic his way out of being wanted and the next your hand is at his jaw and your mouth is on his and he makes a strangled sound against your lips. A muffled noise falls from his lips, and you swallow it down. For half a second, he’s frozen, your lips guiding themselves. He clearly has no idea what to do. 

And then something gives way in him all at once and he kisses you back clumsily. His lips try to match your speed, and you cup his jaw in your hand to guide him as best you can. 

Jungkook lets out a soft moan, fingers digging into your waist so he can tug you closer to him. It feels like your body is melding into his, becoming one. The sound of misogynistic men waving cash around fades into the background, and you forget where you are. Only a mere moment, until you snap back into it. You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he licks into your mouth desperately. You open your mouth a bit to let him explore, and his tongue is so soft and warm that butterflies erupt in your stomach unexpectedly. 

When he pulls away, his cheeks are red, breath escaping him in puffs. Those doe eyes of his are twinkling under the light, bunny teeth poking out underneath his top lip. 

“I—was that, um, okay?” 

Oh god. You’re going to ruin this man’s life. 

You bashfully giggle. “It was perfect, pretty boy. Are you sure this is your first time?” 

Jungkook nods a few times like a broken bobblehead. You chuckle, shaking your head. Your voice lowers an octave. “I want more of you.” 

“R-really?” He squeaks. 

Rather than answer him with words (which he seems to understand so little of), you peel yourself off his lap, taking his hand in yours and tugging him off the couch. Jungkook stands, brows stitched together in confusion. You’d forgotten how tall he was, how much of him there is. 

The floor parts around you as you move through it, the Saturday night chaos swallowing the two of you whole. You catch Natalie’s eye near the bar. She locks eyes with Jungkook and gives you an enthusiastic double thumbs up from behind her clipboard.

She’d lose her mind if she knew you were walking her highest-paying client of the night to the back for free. That’s a problem for later. 

You push open the door to the red room. The LED light bleeds warm over everything. 

Turning, you push him onto the couch with one hand flat against his chest and he plops into it with a soft exhale, hair falling across his forehead, looking up at you with those eyes. Puppy dog eyes, you think. 

“You know what I’ve been thinking about all week?” you say, reaching up to slide one strap off your shoulder. Then the other.

He frantically shakes his head.

“Taking you apart,” you murmur. “Until you don’t remember your own name.”

“That’s—” he swallows thickly, “—that’s fine. Y-yes.”

You reach behind you and unclasp your bra.

For some reason unknown to you, it’s at this moment that you remember what you’re actually doing. 

You’re standing in the red room on a Saturday night about to take the virginity of a man, a man who looked at you in a room full of women and somehow only saw you.

His eyes drop to your bare chest, perked nipples on display

The moment of clarity evaporates completely. You don’t feel bad at all.

Sinking to your knees, you crawl over to where he sits. The carpet is soft beneath your knees. You place your hands flat on his thighs and look up at him, plump, pink lips parting, hands gripping the couch cushions on either side of him. You run your hands slowly up his thighs, feeling the muscle jump under your palms, and tilt your head. “Is this okay, pretty boy?” 

“Y-yes. It’s okay,” he hurries to respond like you might rid him of this moment. 

“Have you ever been titty-fucked before?” you blink up at him, already knowing the answer. 

His cheeks turn the color of the lights. His hand comes up to cover his face and he makes a sound into his palm that is equal parts mortified and desperate. “I-no. I never-I don’t even know, like, what that—I don’t—“

“Hands down,” You tug his hands away from his face. “Use your words, pretty boy. It’s just me.” 

“No.” He finds his voice, his big brown eyes burning into yours. “I have not.” 

You hold his gaze and run your palms up the inside of his thighs. Every coherent thought he has exits his body through his eyes.

“Well,” you say. “Pay attention.”

Your hands find his zipper. The sound it makes in the quiet room ricochets off the walls. His breath goes ragged, stomach caving on an inhale, watching your manicured hands fiddle with his pants. You take your time dragging the denim down his legs until he kicks them off desperately, left in his boxers. 

Even through the fabric, you can see the outline of his erect cock. You wonder how long he’s been hard for, if it’s been before you saw him. You press your palm flat against the fabric, rubbing his bulge, and his head drops back with a groan. 

“You’re so responsive,” you murmur, more to yourself than him, pressing slightly and watching his hips shift toward the pressure. “You feel everything, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah, I really—” he stops, swallows, “—I really do.”

“That’s so good,” you tell him. “That’s exactly right.”

His fingers find the edge of the couch cushion and grip. You take the waistband of his boxers between your fingers and look up at him one more time, giving him every opportunity to change his mind.

Jungkook’s eyes say please before his mouth does.

“Please,” he whispers anyway, because he has no defenses left. You trace the outline of his cock—and holy fuck, you can’t believe your luck. You’re the first girl to bear witness to his cock, and its massive, hidden underneath a man who’s never felt the warmth of a woman, never wanted to. Through his boxers, you can feel his girth, how thick he is. 

Saliva builds up in your mouth. Slowly, you peel down his boxers, dragging them down his legs to the floor. 

His cock stands up proud, slapping against his abdomen. For a moment, your heart thumps in your chest at the size of it, how thick and veiny he is. Fucking hell. You haven’t taken a cock this big in years, but damn straight you’re willing to try. 

“I-is everything okay?” he asks, eyeing your expression. 

You wrap a firm hand around his cock and he jolts forward. Stroking upwards, you feel every ridge, every vein that outlines his length. “It’s perfect, Jungkook. I can’t wait to taste you, for you to be inside me.” 

Precum seeps from his glossy, red tip. You jerk him off a few times until he’s thrusting his hips into your hand. He’s beyond eager for anything you’ll give him, you note. Your eyes meet his, and slowly, you let spit dribble onto his cock, giving you enough slick to jerk him off properly. “Agh-fuck,” he moans, biting his bottom lip hard enough to produce blood. 

“Feels good?” you ask, smiling. 

“Y-yes, don’t stop,” he begs. Flicking your hair behind your shoulder, you hold your tits together, slipping his cock in between your cleavage. He chokes on a breath. “O-okay—okay—” he stammers, hands hovering uselessly on the couch. 

The image of his pretty pink tip sitting between your tits sends waves of arousal to your core, flooding your panties. Adrenaline pumps through you, at the thought of taking this man’s virginity. Slowly, tentatively, enough for him to feel it, to understand it, you observe his face the entire time. His head falls back against the couch.

“You’re—fuck—” he cuts himself off, fingers digging into the cushion. You tilt your head, adjusting the pressure, testing what makes him react harder. Gradually, you move your tits up and down, down to his base and back up to his tip. The slick sounds of skin-on-skin echo across the room, mixed with his soft whimpers. His body tightens under your hands, thick thighs flexing, hips starting to thrust into you without thinking. He’s losing control faster than he can handle, faster than he can pause it. “S-shit, [Y/N], I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna cum—“

But you want him to cum. Want him to cum all over your tits, paint your body with it and let himself claim you. “It’s okay, Kookie,” you let the nickname roll off your tongue. “I want you to cum. It’s okay, I won’t be mad.” 

“Y-You won’t?” His eyes bug out of his head like you’ve just spoken another language. 

You giggle. “No, of course not.” 

He shakes his head like he wants to deny it, but it’s useless. “I– I don’t know, I just— it feels—”

The words fall apart in his mouth. You slow down for a moment before leaning in and adding more slick, dragging your breasts over him again. Jungkook's head snaps back, a broken sound ripping out of him as his hands grip the couch harder. “Oh—fuck— I think I—“

Beneath your grasp, his thighs quiver, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he spurts all over your tits, white, hot liquid painting your skin. Some of it lands on your face, which you lick off happily. “O-oh, [Y/N], fuck fuck, I can’t stop—cumming,” he cries as you slow your pace down, laughing to yourself. 

You ease back onto your knees, hands resting loosely around him. Jungkook is entirely too beautiful for his own good with his chest heaving, long lashes fluttering. 

You’ve had men leave this room strutting. Buttoning their shirts before they’re off the couch, already reassembled, gone. It’s a specific kind of departure that reminds you what this is and what it isn’t.

He takes two shaky pulls of air, then a third. His eyes find yours and stay there. “I—I think you’re amazing.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have volunteered to defile the virgin, because now he’s saying things like this. 

You laugh softly,. “Yeah?”

“No, like—” he pushes himself up further on the couch, words tripping over themselves, “you’re so beautiful and you knew exactly—and I didn’t even—I couldn’t—”

He stops himself. Cheeks flooding red, and all you can do is 

look at him. “God, you’re cute,” you say.

Obviously, you’ve said the wrong thing because his ears go scarlet and his shoulders cave inwards. “Oh. Thank you”. 

Another giggle escapes you, and you hardly recognize yourself. You’re not the girl who giggles during sex with a client, let alone any man. But then again, Jungkook isn’t really your client. 

Your fingers wrap around his softened cock, and without doing much, he begins to harden in your hand, puffing up to his full potential again. He owlishly blinks, gulping. “Sorry, I’m just—“

“Don’t apologize,” you interrupt. “How do you want me?” His throat bobs when he swallows, eyes flicking down to where your hand rests on his length, then back up to your face. “I—”

He exhales shakily. “I don’t know.”

You hum, not letting him off that easy. Your thumb brushes over his tip, gathering the precum that’s begun to form and his hips twitch up. 

Your mouth curves into a sinister smirk.“That’s not true.”

Jungkook lets a small, frustrated sound slip from his lips.“I just—” He breaks off again, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to say it.”

Leaning in a little closer, he has no choice but to feel how little space you’re giving him to hide in. “Use your words, pretty boy,” you murmur, “You’ve been doing so good.”

He sucks in a breath, “I want… I want your mouth on my cock. I want you to suck me off.” 

Immediately, he turns bright red and you can’t help the delighted laugh that wracks through you. “Kookie,” you say, shaking your head a little, “I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth.”

He chuckles at that, reaching down to place his hand over yours, guiding your slow strokes. Your heart leaps into your throat at the innocent touch, betraying you entirely. 

With your eyes locked on his, you lean down and kitten lick his tip, and then drag it down his shaft. His mouth drops open on a silent moan, chest heaving. When you reach the bottom, you lick back up, following the path of a vein, before engulfing him fully in your mouth. He’s bigger than you expected, and your jaw aches at how much you have to open up to fit him in. Your tongue swirls around his tip, and he jolts forward, instinctively pulling your hair and entangling his tattooed fingers in it. 

“K-keep going.” He bucks his hips up, the tip of your nose hitting his pubic bone. You can hardly hold back your gags, choking sounds escaping from your mouth, tears seeping through your lashes as you take him to the hilt. “Feels s-so good, angel. You’re so p-pretty.” 

Your lips pop off his cock as you gasp for air, jerking him off in the meantime. “Yeah? You like how I look with your cock in my mouth, baby?” 

He nods eagerly. “Yes, please.” Jungkook pushes your head down, and then blushes as though he just caught himself sticking his hand in a candy jar. It’s not as if you mind—his cock is addicting, his precum so sweet and warm. You lower your head, swirling your tongue around his tip just so you can hear his pretty little moans again. 

You move at a steady pace, your hand working anything your mouth can’t take. His fingers dig into your scalp, almost guiding you. You don’t want to stop, never do, not until you ruin him. Not until you’ve had every ounce of him. His cock twitches in your mouth, and his thighs shake. It’s hard to hide the smile that’s curving upon your lips. After suctioning your lips around his tip a few more times, he drags your head up, practically ripping you off his body. 

Your stomach leaps into your throat, and the unfamiliar swell of anxiety bubbles inside you. Men don’t ever push you off, and you’d be lying if you said your ego isn’t taking a hit. 

“What do you want, pretty boy?” you ask sweetly. 

“I liked it when you c-choked on it.” His cheeks turn a scarlet glow, brunette hair sticking to his golden skin. “You look pretty.” 

“Want me to deepthroat your cock?” You grin, kitten licking his tip. Jungkook whimpers, and you take that as your answer. With no further instruction, you deeply inhale through your nose and take him to the hilt again, your throat full of him. Your air flow is entirely restricted, and Jungkook—the innocent virgin—pushes your head down, as if there were anywhere further to go. The feeling of being lightheaded doesn’t even scare you, just turns you on from how utterly desperate he is for you. “Shit, you’re so good at this,” he whines. “Don’t wanna cum yet. I wanna cum inside you, baby.”

You hum around him, and your mouth pops off  his cock, saliva connecting his tip to your lips. “Are you sure, Kookie?” 

You’re certain the poor boy has never been more ready for anything in his entire life. “Yes, please, please fuck me.” He begs between breathless groans, and you have to hide your own whimper from how fucked out he sounds. 

Now, you’ve done a lot of things in the red room. Bondage, roleplay, orgasm denial… but taking someone’s virginity? And that of a man who actually might be worth your time? Can’t say you’ve done that before. It excites you, and for a moment, you have to wonder if it’s because of the situation, or because of the man sitting in front of you. 

Standing up, you steady yourself despite the ache in your knees. You unhurriedly peel off your underwear, your arousal sticking to your thighs as you kick them off. Jungkook’s eyes follow your legs up, up, until he stares at your pussy with a tiny gasp. You straddle his thighs, using his shoulders as leverage. Your soaking core hovers above his erect cock, and he looks down to see just how close you actually are. “Are you sure, pretty boy?” you ask again, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Please.” His eyes snap to yours, and the sincerity behind it sends electricity through your veins. You take his fingers, placing them in your mouth before sucking on them and bringing them to your clit so he can feel how aroused you are for him. So ready and pliant above him. “O-oh, you’re really wet.”

“I am, Kookie,” you giggle. “You made me like this.” You guide his movements, little circles on your clit. Foreplay isn’t even necessary—you’re not sure you’ve ever been wetter. 

You align his length to your hole, and sinking down on him, inch by inch, you can feel every ridge and vein decorating his cock. You're deliciously full, until you’re filled to the brim, stuffed with his cock. You’d had a rough idea of what to expect. You’d done this a hundred times in this room. You thought you knew how this part went. But you were not prepared for Jungkook.

The stretch of him is slow and overwhelming and your walls have to work to accommodate his size. You hear yourself exhale, an involuntary release of air. His face finds your neck immediately and he groans. “O-oh my god,” he croons in your neck, muffled against your sweaty skin. “Is this what pussy f-feels like?”

You can hardly think long enough to form a response, and then he starts to move. Careful rolls of his hips, driving his cock up into you, checking every flicker of your expression for anything that looks like discomfort. It’s so like him. Completely, specifically him, that something in your throat tightens. 

What he finds instead is your eyes, telling him everything. He continues fucking upwards, and a borderline scream escapes you from how quickly he finds that sweet spot inside you. His fingers flex at your hips. He gasps and then he’s babbling, words tumbling out unfiltered the way everything does with him. “Your pussy feels so good. So tight and warm,” he speaks into your neck, inhaling your scent like he’s a wolf. “It’s so wet, [Y/N], so fucking wet.”

You need to get it together. You need to find the part of yourself that knows what she’s doing in this room, that has always known, that has never once lost the upper hand. Your hands come to rest on his thighs behind you, and you lift yourself up his cock, only to slam yourself back down. Each time you take him fully, your breath punches out in a grunt you can’t swallow back, your knees working against the cushions as you ride him. Your nails dig into his thighs, red, crescent moons forming. The sound of skin slapping and your wet cunt swallowing his cock fills the room. “Fuck, you feel so good, Jungkook. You’re so big, so deep inside me.”

“Yeah? You like how I feel inside you?’ His hands cup your ass, helping your movements. Despite it being his first time, Jungkook moves like he knows you.

Muscle memory takes over, and you grab a fistful of his hair and drag him towards you. You kiss him. 

Sloppy and breathless and without technique, lips catching and sliding, both of you too far gone to be graceful about it. He makes a broken sound into your mouth, hips stuttering.

“Want to make you my fucktoy. Would you like that, pretty boy?” 

He nods excitedly, eyes squeezed tight as you milk his cock with every bounce. Although you should be focused on making him cum, all of that flies out the window as the familiar coil in your stomach begs to come undone. Your walls flutter around his cock and his eyes open, looking to where your bodies join to try and decipher the sensation. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. 

“Really?” he asks, wide-eyed with wonder. “Shit–keep going, baby. You’re gonna make me cum too, I won’t be able to last l-long.”

You switch to a back-and-forth motion, your clit hitting his pelvic bone, enough to make your legs shake as your orgasm washes over you. Jungkook grips your hips tight as you whimper, falling forward and wrapping your arms around his neck for stability. He takes the opportunity to thrust up into you again desperately, chasing his own release. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines. “So fucking addicting. I want to be inside you forever.” The sound of those words tumbling from his lips, tone so easy, has something inside of you clenching.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum again,” he hisses, hips faltering as he coats your walls with his cum, and the warmth of him fills you up. Wrapping his arms around you entirely, you feel Jungkook press chaste kisses to your neck, jaw, and cheek, bringing you back down to earth. 

When you two finally catch your breath, you rest there, with his cock softening inside you and your nails tracing patterns down his back. Your legs remain glued to his thighs, like the rest of the club doesn’t exist, like Natalie and her clipboard and the Saturday night chaos on the other side of the door are happening on a different planet. It feels like just you two in the whole building.

14 months ago, your last relationship ended abruptly. In the parking lot of a grocery store, which is such an unglamorous setting for the end of two years that you’ve never quite been able to shake it. He was handsome, aware of it, rationing it, using it for his benefit. He never brought you flowers. Not once, not for birthdays or apologies or just because. Flowers were a waste of money in his opinion, and not to be spent on ‘cheap girls’ like you. 

You look at Jungkook’s profile. The soft line of his jaw in the red light, the flutter of his long lashes. 

There are red roses on your vanity that he left without being asked.

“Did I… did I do okay?”

You pull back to peer at him, and his eyes are sparkling, an earnest expression taut on his face. You recognize what he needs to hear. “Yes, Jungkook,” you say, combing your fingers through his hair. “You did very good.”

The relief that moves across his face is immediate. “Okay,” he nods. “That’s good.”

He ducks his head. “How do I—how do I pay you?”

The ripple of his question moves through you. You need the money more than anyone in this room. You have a number in your head that lives there rent free, that wakes you up at 3 AM sometimes, that is the entire reason you’re here in the first place.

You open your mouth to name a figure, but instead, “It’s fine,” you hear yourself say. “You don’t have to.”

He pouts. “But I want to. You should let me.”

“It’s fine,” you repeat.  

“Not even a tip?” he tries again, and you have to commend his effort. 

“No.”

And  with a calm confidence that was not there an hour ago, “My number then,” he says. “Can I have yours? Would that work?”

You laugh, dropping your face into the curve of his neck, and feel him go warm underneath you. “You have some nerve, Jungkook.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Huh?” Maybe he wasn’t expecting your compliance, but you give it anyway. You’ll give yourself this one. 

“Yeah, Jungkook.” It’s probably a bad idea. Or maybe it’s the best one you’ll ever have. “You can have my number.”

The next night, when you open your phone, you read a text from Jeon Jungkook that says: i know you said no tips, but think of this as a gift. open your door. 

Outside your door sits a bouquet of red roses, with piles and piles of cash sitting beside it. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that. 

On the flowers is a note, something even cuter than his text, that reads: give me one more night? - your pretty boy 

So a year after completing his mandatory military service and in the middle of a world tour, he’s realizing he doesn’t have all the skills he needs. He’s never been in a real relationship for a multitude of reasons, but he’s thinking about it more as he nears his thirties. Meaning it’s time to learn all the tips and tricks for when the sex isn’t just a quickie backstage. 

He knows exactly who to ask for advice. Who else but his oldest hyung, the one in a relationship lasting over half a decade. 

You and Seokjin met while on vacation in Europe, even though you both hail from Korea. It was a fairytale meet-cute. You both stumbled into a bookshop to escape a sudden downpour and upon finding out you speak the same language, chatted for hours until the owner kicked you two out. 

The rest is history, and you’ve become a staple in all their lives ever since Seokjin brought you to rehearsal for a formal introduction. 

Jeongguk adores you. Not only because of your own kindness, generosity, and compassion, but because you make Seokjin undeniably happy. His hyung was going through a tough time when you met and Jeongguk’s sure you’re the reason he was able to recover. 

He’s especially protective of his oldest brother. They’re extremely close, so Jeongguk knows firsthand that sometimes he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders without telling anyone. But he feels better knowing Seokjin has someone like you. 

You don’t see one another too often anymore, unless you come to visit Seokjin or everyone gets together on a day off. But it’s always a good time whenever you’re around. 

He’d never admit to his hyung, but you’re easily one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever seen. Of course, you are, because Seokjin’s breathtakingly handsome himself. That’s not to say Jeongguk has a crush on you, but he has thought about you with his hand around his cock a couple times. 

It’s hardly his fault when his hotel room’s usually next door and he can hear your whines and moans through the wall. And based on the noises you make, it’s clear Seokjin knows what he’s doing in the bedroom.

Thus Jeongguk’s reason for sending a text at eleven in the evening asking him to swing by his room. 

Seokjin arrives only moments later by ceremoniously throwing the door open and strutting inside. Jeongguk chuckles at the familiar behavior as his hyung crosses the room before plopping into the chair opposite his bed. 

“What’s up, ya punk?”

Even when Seokjin’s teasing him, there’s always a lick of affection for the younger man in his tone. Everyone knows how much they care about each other; that’s why Jeongguk trusts him enough to ask for help in this department. 

He practically raised him since he was a teenager, so it just makes sense for him to be the one to teach Jeongguk the ropes. 

“I need your help,” Jeongguk admits from his spot on the edge of the mattress. 

“With what?” 

Seokjin relaxes into the lavish hotel chair, spreading his legs and resting his back against the cushions. 

“Well, uh…” A nervous chuckle escapes while Jeongguk decides how to approach this. “I mean, you always satisfy Y/N, right?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

His hyung immediately sits up again with a furrowed brow.  

“I don’t… I didn’t — ugh.” 

Jeongguk rakes his fingers through his hair out of frustration with himself. 

“Spit it out, kid, or I’ll smack it out of you,” he threatens, although still with a hint of fondness. 

“I want you to teach me how to eat pussy.”

The silence that follows is so loud it could break glass. 

Seokjin’s staring at him in utter disbelief; his eyebrows almost kissing and his mouth agape. Except only a second later, he bursts into hysterical laughter. 

“Oh my fucking god!” He bellows while clutching his stomach. 

“Hyung,” Jeongguk whines. 

It takes some time, but the sound eventually slows to merely punctuated giggles.

“I’m not… laughing at you. I’m just… so… shocked.” 

“Well, who else would I ask? Like I said, I know you take care of Y/N.” 

“No, I know. I just never expected you to come to me for that kind of advice.” 

He shrugs.

“If you wanna get better at something, you need a good teacher.”

Seokjin sighs and swipes at the corners of his eyes once the laughter finally leaves his system. 

“So, you’re just trying to hone your skills or what?”

“Yeah. I’ve done it plenty of times, but never for that long and all without focusing on any technique,” Jeongguk explains. 

His hyung thoughtfully nods as his gaze shifts towards the door. 

“You know, it’s quite the coincidence you're bringing this up now,” he states. 

“How so?”

The smile forming on Seokjin’s lips is eerily mischievous. 

“Because Y/N just arrived an hour ago to visit for the month.”

Jeongguk’s face scrunches. He racks his brain for the reason you’d have anything to do with his request, but comes up short. 

“Why does that matter?”

Seokjin chuckles like a sly, criminal mastermind.

“What better way to learn than by doing?” His blood runs cold, but before he can register his hyung’s movements, his phone’s already in his hand. “Angel?” He asks into the receptor. “Can you come next door to Jeonggukie’s room?” 

“Hyung,” Jeongguk snaps through gritted teeth. “What are you doing?”

All he does is wave him off.  

“Nope, door’s open. See you in a sec.” 

The line cuts and Seokjin smirks while leaning back in his seat again. It leaves Jeongguk even more confused about what’s happening. His older brother can’t possibly be alluding to… that, can he? 

“Hyung —”

“Relax, Jeonggukie. It’s not like her and I haven’t done something like this before.”

“What?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes.

“Look, when you’ve been in a relationship as long as we have, there’s a level of trust that allows for experimentation without worrying about the consequences,” he answers. “We both know no matter what, we’ll always choose each other. So, why not have some fun while we’re at it?”

Jeongguk genuinely can’t believe what he’s hearing. Seokjin’s really just going to let him practice oral sex on you? It’s mind boggling because he could never share the person he loves with someone else. But his hyung’s always been far more gracious than he is. 

There’s a quiet knock before you peer inside with a wave. Your boyfriend beckons you, leading you to sneak in and shut the door before waltzing over to him.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Seokjin greets you as you bend down to kiss him.

“Hi, handsome,” you chirp. “Hi, Jeonggukie!”

He gulps and tries his hardest not to choke while waving at you.

“Hey, noona.” 

“So, what’s up?” 

As if it’s the most natural act in the world, you sit on Seokjin’s lap and his hands curl around your body to rest on your hip and thigh, respectively. 

“Well, Jeonggukie here was asking for advice and I think you can help me teach him some stuff.” 

“What stuff?” 

You chuckle as your eyes flit between the two men, your eyebrows high in curiosity. 

“Do you wanna explain it, kid?” Seokjin asks. 

His mouth goes completely dry and his brain feels like it’s about to explode. How will he ever look you in the eye again after this?

“Um, you see… uh, well…” 

When you notice how uncomfortable he seems, you send him a warm smile and reach out to pat his knee.

“It’s alright, Ggukie. I won’t judge,” you assure him. 

“I think you might, actually.” 

It’s becoming increasingly clear poor Jeongguk won’t be able to voice his own needs aloud, so Seokjin leans over to whisper in your ear. 

Jeongguk watches your face for a reaction, but it certainly isn’t as grand as he was expecting. After your eyes momentarily widen, you start giggling and stand up. 

“Oh, Jeongguk, that’s nothing.” 

His own eyes expand into massive saucers when you slip your hands under your denim skirt and pull your panties off. You shimmy the lace down your legs before kicking them off onto the floor, all while he nearly passes out from how fast his heart’s beating. 

“Noona, you don’t have to do this,” he protests. 

“Have to?” The confident smirk you’re sporting only makes you look sexier. As if that were possible. “Who says I don’t want to?” 

“Well, I just —”

“Kid, I promise it’s fine,” Seokjin interrupts. “But we do need to lay down some ground rules.” Jeongguk nods assuredly. “Alright. You asked for my help, which means you’re going to follow my orders. But you also need to watch Y/N’s reactions to know what works and what doesn’t. So, your eyes will be on her and her eyes will be on me. Clear?”

After he nods again, your boyfriend looks to you for affirmation as well. Prompting your smile to grow as your eyes affectionately roll into your skull. 

“Oh, please. Like I can ever look anywhere but at you.” 

Seokjin smiles and gives your ass a liberal smack.

“That’s what I thought.” 

This all still feels too surreal for Jeongguk. He’s known Seokjin since he was thirteen and you since his early twenties. Then again, maybe that’s why you both trust him with such a delicate situation. 

“Are you sure about this?” He questions you two. “I don’t want to push anyone’s boundaries just for the sake of knowledge. I mean, I could just go out and practice with a stranger instead.” 

Your eyes soften while his hyung’s smirk becomes incredibly fond. 

“Ggukie, you know that wouldn’t be smart. What if they tell someone? A standard NDA’s only enforceable for five years,” you reply.

You’re an attorney, so you obviously know the ins and outs of these things. 

He sighs, despite knowing you’re right. It’s just hard to shake the fear that doing this could damage something precious to him. 

“Hyung.” Seokjin meets his gaze and gestures for him to continue. “This won’t come between us, right?”

Ironically, the older man is usually the more anxious one. Jeongguk often throws caution to the wind while Seokjin forces him to stop and think everything through. The role reversal does ease his mind a little. Because if his hyung’s so calm about this, he must be confident it’ll all turn out fine. 

“C’mon, you know nothing could ever come between us.” He leans forward to rest a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be fun. You’ll see.” Before Jeongguk can burrow any deeper inside his own head, Seokjin turns to you. “Lay down on the bed, angel.”

You two share another quick peck before you sit on the mattress and scoot back until you’re right in the center. Jeongguk’s still at the foot of the bed, but he only has enough courage to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

He can’t see much yet since you’re resting on your elbows with your legs together. That is, until Seokjin moves his chair closer and makes himself comfortable. 

“Spread ‘em, baby,” he instructs. 

It actually shocks Jeongguk how quickly you heed the command. Whenever he’s around you and Seokjin, it’s always abundantly clear no one rules over the other. But it seems his older brother likes being in charge behind closed doors. 

The less surprising thing is how fucking delectable you look laid out on his bed with your legs wide open. He initially tries to be a decent human by averting his eyes, but the temptation’s simply too much. 

His throat feels like sandpaper as his eyes roam over your entire body. Even though you’re practically fully clothed, you look like the epitome of sin. Your pussy’s on display just inches from him, although he can’t see everything yet due to your skirt. But he can certainly tell how pretty and pink you are. 

“Shit,” he sighs under his breath.

“Isn’t she perfect, Jeonggukie?”

Jeongguk nods as though in a trance and it causes you to giggle. 

“You can come closer, Jeongguk.” His focus shifts to your face. “I won’t bite,” you tease.

As if your cunt isn’t enticing enough, your features are so fucking ethereal he genuinely worries this is all a dream. 

“Hyung?” 

He looks at Seokjin over his shoulder, silently asking for permission, to which your boyfriend replies with a curt nod. 

There’s no reason to waste time. And truthfully, if Jeongguk doesn’t have his face between your legs within the next five seconds, he might go insane. 

Alas, he doesn’t bury his nose in your pussy just yet. His first move is to turn around and crawl until he’s close enough to lie in the center of your thighs. He glances up to check for any signs of discomfort or protest, but you couldn’t look more content as you observe him inching closer. 

“Can I touch you?” Jeongguk asks. 

“Ask him.”

You gesture at Seokjin and that’s when Jeongguk realizes why his hyung’s so relaxed about the scene playing out. Because he’s the director of it with complete creative control. 

“Go ahead.”

Jeongguk’s nervous as hell, but he doesn’t let it deter him from reaching out to shove your skirt past your hips before yanking you down the bed towards his awaiting mouth. 

He doesn’t dive in right away, just begins with featherlight kisses along your inner thighs. Your skin’s so warm and soft it elicits a deep groan from his chest. Not to mention he can already smell your sweet arousal. 

“First lesson is to go slow. It’s easy to make a woman come if you push the right buttons, but it’s all about how you push them,” Seokjin explains from behind him. 

His lips are almost at your core, so he inhales in preparation. 

“Fuck, you smell s’nice.”

It’s so quiet he doubts you hear him, especially when your attention’s on your boyfriend lounging in his chair across from you. 

Jeongguk still can’t believe he’s about to taste you. His heart’s pounding like a drum and his mind is shrouded by lust and desire. But the excitement is short lived because Seokjin speaks again before he’s able to put his mouth on you. 

“Touch her first.” A disapproving growl almost makes it past Jeongguk’s lips, but he manages to control himself. “You’ll be able to do a lot more with your tongue if you know the landscape.” 

There’s a lot of willpower involved in following Seokjin’s order. All he wants is to lap at your cunt until he’s drowning in you, but he asked for help for a reason and disobeying would make it pointless. 

His hand moves from your hip to your folds, spreading you open with two fingers so he can see your hole. Jeongguk doesn’t know if he’s ever seen such a gorgeous pussy before and watching your essence slowly leak out onto his fingers makes his cock strain against his pants. 

He glides upwards to touch your clit next and your body jolts in response. It fills him with pride, even if he knows it’s just a natural reaction to stimulation. Your nub’s already swelling because of his exploration, so he pushes your hood back to get a closer look. A breathless moan accompanies the act and Jeongguk smirks when your cunt automatically produces more arousal. 

“Don’t forget to tell her how pretty she is, Jeongguk,” Seokjin adds.

“You’re… fucking unreal,” he whispers in awe.

You chuckle following another soft whine. 

“What you make a woman feel internally is almost as important as externally.” Jeongguk hums, only half listening because he’s too enamored by how your body responds to his touch. “Okay, you can use your mouth now.”

Without any hesitation, he replaces his hand with his mouth by wrapping his lips around your clit and gently sucking. 

A loud, amorous whimper floods the air as your back arcs off the bed. Jeongguk has to tighten his grasp to keep you still, his fingertips digging into your hips and ass. Behind him, he hears Seokjin groan in pleasure and suddenly realizes his hyung’s getting something out of this as well. 

“Oh, my god,” you mumble while lacing your fingers through Jeongguk’s hair. 

He grunts at the pressure, sending a vibration straight into your sensitive nerve endings. 

“Is Jeonggukie doing a good job, baby?”

Even though your hand’s in his hair and his face is stuffed between your thighs, your eyes are locked on Seokjin. It’s like there are two separate sexual encounters happening at once. A physical one between you and Jeongguk, and a psychological one between you and your boyfriend. 

“Mmhm. Really good.”

Your answer encourages him to explore more of you, so he releases your clit before dragging his tongue up the entirety of your slit. The action makes your legs twitch on either side of his head as you moan again and tug on his scalp. 

Jeongguk goes full throttle after that, enthusiastically slurping up your cum while soaking you with his saliva. He licks you with the flat of his tongue to cover as much surface area as possible, but eventually uses just the tip to fuck your hole. 

Once his wet muscle sinks inside you, your noises double in volume and raspiness. He can also feel your thighs shaking beside his ears and knowing he has you in such a vulnerable state is driving him insane. 

“Whenever you’re focusing on her cunt, use your nose to keep friction on her clit.”

Damn, he’s never even considered that before. He knew choosing Seokjin as a teacher would be worthwhile. 

Following the instruction, Jeongguk begins moving his head up and down at the same pace as his tongue and you immediately whine over the new sensation. 

You have one of the most sensitive pussies he’s ever touched. Everything he does causes your walls to pulse around his tongue and you’re only getting wetter by the minute. He absolutely loves it; thrives on how reactive your body is. Jeongguk himself adores praise and compliments, so you’re more than he could ever ask for. 

Along those same lines, you seem to be pretty close to finishing. Your endless whimpers, trembling limbs, and creamy cunt all tell him it won’t be long now before you come on his face. 

Except Seokjin must have a better idea, because as soon as your moans turn high-pitched, he throws out another command. 

“Don’t let her come yet, Jeongguk. It’ll be so much better if you make her wait.”

“Jinie,” you whine. 

When Jeongguk gazes up from between your legs, he finds you pouting at Seokjin, who clicks his tongue at your protest. 

“C’mon, angel, I can’t teach if the lesson ends so soon.”

In order to do as his hyung says, Jeongguk removes his tongue from your cunt. But he stays close by gently kissing along your slit while wrapping his arms around your thighs to give himself more leverage. 

He can’t get enough of feeling your soft skin beneath his fingertips. Seeing his hands splayed out across your legs, including the divots he creates from holding onto you, is beyond heavenly. 

“Noona,” Jeongguk calls to grab your attention. Your eyes shift down in response and a small smile appears when you notice how shiny the bottom half of his face is. “You taste amazing.” Another kiss, right on your puffy clit. “I don’t think I ever wanna stop.”

You giggle.

“You’re such a sweetie, Ggukie.”

It’s embarrassing how bright he blushes over your compliment, but at least he can bury his face in your pussy again to conceal his reaction. 

He quickly returns to his previous endeavor without worrying about disobeying Seokjin since you’ve had a minute to fall back from the precipice. But rather than continuing to lick you, he sucks on your clit as his tongue flicks back and forth. 

Your body lurches and you cry out in pleasure, eliciting a low, eager groan from Jeongguk. His grip on your legs doesn’t allow you to move an inch other than squirming. Providing him with the perfect view of you trapped by his biceps while your chest erratically rises and falls. You’ve stopped looking at Seokjin as well, your head dropping down onto the pillows instead. 

“If you want to make her last long, just keep switching between her clit and her cunt. Bring her close with one, then pull back and move to the other,” Seokjin narrates. “And when you’re playing with her clit, try different things. Flatten and swirl your tongue, draw shapes with the tip, spit, you can even use your teeth if you're gentle enough. But you hurt her and I’ll kick your ass.”

The craziest thing about his hyung giving orders is that despite speaking eloquently, his voice is strained because the sight of his girlfriend being eaten out by another man is turning him on. 

Jeongguk can’t blame him, the sight of you lying on the mattress with your legs spread and head thrown back is probably sublime. Not to mention how erotic the visual of you shoving his face deeper into your pussy must be. 

“Fuck, right there,” you moan.

Seokjin’s advice works wonders because you’re clearly enjoying the way Jeongguk alternates tactics with his tongue. He’s focusing solely on your clit at the moment, utilizing all the aforementioned movements to bring you right back to the edge. He rotates the order to keep you stimulated and you seem to especially like whenever he spits on your nub before circling it. 

It’s obvious your orgasm’s approaching again, so Jeongguk waits until the very last moment to retreat towards your hole so he can deny you a release. 

You whimper and yank on his hair, but you’re not the one in charge and Seokjin gave him specific instructions. 

He edges you three more times by following his teacher’s wisdom. Every time you come close to a climax, he swaps from lapping at and fucking your cunt to wetting and teasing your nerve endings. By the time you’re nearing a high for the sixth time, you have tears streaming down your face as you ceaselessly pant. 

“God, you look so stunning like this, baby,” Seokjin comments. “Doesn’t she, kid?”

Jeongguk’s been watching you the entire time and couldn’t agree more. Seeing you nearly fall apart on his tongue over and over again is making his dick twitch inside his pants. All he wants is to finish you off, but he’s staying patient for his brother’s signal.  

Rather than stopping to reply, he merely groans and nods his head, causing his nose to brush against your swollen, oversensitive clit. 

You loudly sob from the intense pleasure while your thighs quiver where they’re flanking Jeongguk’s ears. 

“Please, baby, please,” you beg.

It's uncertain how long you three have been doing this. Jeongguk’s jaw is growing sore, so it must be a decent amount of time. He can’t imagine the overstimulation you’re feeling from being repeatedly denied an orgasm.

“Aw, you wanna come, angel?”

“Jinie…”

There’s a rustling sound and suddenly Jeongguk senses his friend moving closer. The next thing he knows, the bed dips and Seokjin appears in his line of sight beside you.

“You think Jeongguk can make you come?” You nod. “Yeah?” He glances down at the man in question, who’s still avidly swiping his tongue through your folds. “You know what to do?” 

When Jeongguk hums, you wail and a fresh flood of arousal drips from your hole. 

“Seokjin, I can’t.”

“I know, baby,” he pacifies you before turning his attention back to his younger brother. “You can break her off now. And don’t hold back.” 

Those magic words are all he’s been wanting to hear since the moment he first tasted you. 

He enthusiastically heeds the command by driving his fingertips into your hips and licking you with newfound fervor. His head bobs as his tongue pushes in and out of your cunt at an obscene pace. As much as Jeongguk doesn’t want this experience to end, feeling your entire body shake because of what he’s doing to you is so worth it. 

You come only seconds later with a high-pitched, muffled, cry while your thighs lock around his head and your fingernails scratch his scalp. Jeongguk’s busy ensuring you meet a satisfying end, but when he gazes up again, he sees Seokjin zealously kissing you. His hands are cradling your face and it’s obvious his tongue’s far down your throat. 

Perhaps that’s why you absolutely drown Jeongguk in cum that doesn’t stop even as your body begins to relax in his grasp. 

Jeongguk takes advantage of your lengthy climax by swallowing every ounce of you he can, all while moaning over how amazing you taste.

The magical experience comes to an end when a new hand lands on his head and forces his face away. He could honestly cry at the thought of never getting to have you again, but he can’t let either of you know that. 

“You enjoy yourself, kid?” 

All he can do in his mystified state is aimlessly nod. It causes you to giggle, clawing Jeongguk’s attention back in an instant.

“Here, sweetie, let’s clean you up.” 

You maneuver your leg around his body so you can hop off the bed and grab something before returning to clutch his face. There’s something soft and purple in your hand that you use to wipe away the essence staining his cheeks, mouth, and chin. Jeongguk doesn’t realize what it is until you shove the fabric into his palm and curl his fingers around it. 

“What… you’re giving these to me?” 

The lace underwear’s staring at him like he’s undeserving. 

“So you have something to remember me by,” you explain with a wink. 

Jeongguk scoffs in sheer disbelief.

“I don’t think I could forget you if I tried,” he counters. 

“You better,” Seokjin sneers, but he’s smirking. 

Your boyfriend helps you stand again and adjusts your skirt into a presentable position while you affectionately comb his hair back. You two then turn back to Jeongguk with intertwined hands. 

“This was fun, Ggukie! We should do it again sometime.”

He genuinely can’t comprehend that he’s hearing you correctly. 

“Yeah, just let us know if you need another lesson,” his hyung tells him.

“Uh, well —”

“Alright, alright! No need to be greedy, you little shit.” 

You cackle at Seokjin’s familiar teasing as he pulls you towards the exit. 

“Bye!” You shout between giggles.

“Bye,” Jeongguk whispers, his hand waving at you of its own accord due to his current lack of brainpower. 

He flops backwards onto the mattress once you’re both gone while his mind reels over what just occurred. It’s almost impossible to believe, but the images replaying behind his eyelids aren’t just his imagination. Your flavor’s still lingering on his tongue and he can hear your whimpers ringing in his ear. 

Maybe it was a terrible idea considering he’ll probably never not see you and want to shove his face into your pussy again, but he can’t bring himself to regret anything. He learned multiple valuable lessons and got to make a gorgeous woman come, so who is he to complain? 

Everything Jeongguk does has some sort of musicality to it. Even the way he kisses feels melodic. He’s the only person who can play you like a fiddle, or the only one you allow to. 

“It’s open,” you holler from the kitchen. 

It isn’t the norm for you to keep your door unlocked, but you already knew he was coming. Not because you two talked about it beforehand or because he texted you on his way over. This is just what you two do, and have done, for two years shy of a decade now. 

Light shines in from the street lamps outside when Jeongguk enters your house, drops his bag, and kicks off his shoes. The sounds are understandably familiar given how many times this exact scenario’s played out. And just like clockwork, a couple seconds after the door clicks shut, you feel two warm, strong arms wrapping around your middle. 

“This all for little ole me, huh?” Jeongguk whispers where his lips are grazing your neck. 

You hear him inhale your scent and contentedly hum between his soft kisses along your throat, leaving you to fight off the urge to totally melt into him. 

“Why would it be? Is today a special occasion or something?” 

He chuckles into your skin. It’s low and deep, making it obvious how tired he is, but still as bright as ever. 

“Oh, not really. Just Bangtan’s golden anniversary.” 

“Ah, I see.” While he continues to paint your neck in affection, you add the finishing touches to the seaweed soup you made. “Well, I’ll have you know you guys don’t own the date June thirteenth.” 

“No?” 

His cheerful giggles tickle your ear and cause your head to tilt, unintentionally giving his mouth more space to work. 

“Nuh uh. It also happens to be my, um, my grandma’s cat’s birthday,” you retort.

It’s such a stupid joke, but hearing Jeongguk’s loud laugh is enough to tell it again and again. 

“My apologies,” he drawls with a final peck. “To the cat.” 

By the time he turns you around in his arms, you’re giggling, too. It’s par for the course whenever you’re together, just like his hands caressing the bare skin of your waist below your top. 

He looks so unbelievably handsome, even with evidence of fatigue written all over his face. His black hair’s gotten longer since you last saw him, but it’s parted on one side to show off his forehead and pretty, doe eyes. 

On instinct, you reach up to comb through the front pieces and Jeongguk instantly wilts. His eyes close, shoulders drop, and muscles relax, bringing his body an inch closer to you.

“You didn’t have to come, you know.” As if to directly counter your statement, one of his arms loops around your back. “It’s been a long two days, no?” 

“Missed you.” 

His response is so quick it’s almost like muscle memory and you have to fend off the butterflies in your stomach as a result. 

“I’m not going anywhere. You could’ve stopped by tomorrow or something.” When Jeongguk shakes his head with a slight pout, it triggers your memories of him doing the exact same thing as a kid. He hasn’t changed at all since you two grew up together here in Busan, even though it feels like a lifetime ago. “Ggukie.”

“I…” His eyes open again and a smile slowly breaks out across his face as he surveys you. “I didn’t wanna wait. I needed to be with you tonight.” You can’t resist mirroring his expression. “Is that alright?” 

After a long inhale, you nod. 

“It’s always alright.” 

That’s apparently all he needs to hear because he kisses you without missing a beat. It’s mundane and regular to feel his lips against your own. Of course, it is. He was your first kiss as a teenager and you’ve lost count of how many you’ve shared since then. 

Jeongguk’s lips are consistently soft, pleasant, and gentle. He kisses you like it’s the first time even in the middle of your raunchiest affairs. Sometimes he’s so delicate you forget the type of relationship this really is. 

To be fair, Jeongguk doesn't treat you like just some friend with benefits or a random situationship. The years of familiarity between you garner a much deeper respect than that. But that also allows your heart to occasionally get the wrong idea. 

He isn’t yours, and you’re not sure if he ever will be. Which is okay. All you ever want is to have him in your life and whether that’s platonically or romantically, you don’t care. The only thing you could never withstand is losing him altogether. 

Although, it’s a lie to say you won’t miss the feeling of his hands on your spine and your chests pressed together if your relationship suddenly becomes friendly. His long fingers occupy the majority of your back whenever he holds you like this, encompassing you in his presence until it’s all you can think about. Not to mention how his mouth guides your own open so he can slip his tongue inside. 

This is how he gets you every time without fail. You can be completely focused on something, but as soon as his lips are on you, it’s game over. 

For instance, the meticulously planned meal on the counter behind you.

“Jeo — Jeongguk,” you murmur between kisses. “The food’s getting cold.” 

He just laughs at your feeble attempt to stop him. 

“You have a microwave for a reason, no?”

His head tilts to the opposite side so he can kiss you with more fervor, but you push on his chest to force him back. He looks cartoonishly offended by your actions and you have to lace your fingers together just wipe the frown off his face. 

“You’re really choosing pussy over food? That’s a little out of character.” 

“Nah, not when it’s you,” he argues. “You gotta know by now you’re my favorite meal.” 

An embarrassingly bright blush creeps in which you try to hide by glancing to your left, but Jeongguk knows you too well. He uses your chin to turn your head before smiling like a devil because of how pink your cheeks are. Leading you to swat his hand away and pivot in the opposite direction. 

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” 

You barely make it two feet before he catches you with a single arm, tugging you into his chest while you squeal and pretend to fight back. Jeongguk triumphantly cackles in return as he carries you to the couch and flops onto his back, bringing you down with him. 

The position leaves all your most sensitive areas wide open and he takes full advantage by tickling you wherever he can reach. It’s no different from when you were kids on the playground, although back then the behavior wasn’t inundated with sexual tension. Because despite him making you screech and flail, a tender heat follows his fingers where they dance across your skin. His lips are also right beside your ear and the puffs of air from his laughter spreads goosebumps all down your arms.

“Ggukie,” you whine, but he ignores the protest.

Well, partially. He stops tickling you, but only so his hands can slide beneath your shirt to feel your bare skin. One arm fully wraps around your stomach to keep you close while the other sneaks upwards until he finds your bra. His fingers push the material up so he can grope you unimpeached, eliciting a quiet moan when he begins massaging your breast.

In the meantime, he starts kissing your neck again. And like a true musician, he marries the tempo of his hand and mouth so every peck coincides with a firm squeeze. It turns your brain to putty and all you can do is let him keep touching you like his own personal piano. 

“God, you’re so warm.” His lips are dangerously close to your weak spot, the skin right before your shoulder that always makes you squirm. “This is always what I miss the most.”

“Oh, so you don’t miss my company? Just my body?” 

Jeongguk giggles and it’s so damn cute you almost forget your tit’s engulfed in his palm. 

“Of course, I do,” he assures you. “I miss everything about you. All the time.”

You hate when he says shit that makes your heart race. It isn’t fair because you can’t respond in kind or else you risk scaring him away. 

He’s the one who asked for this arrangement; to be able to stroll through your door whenever he’s in town and have you all to himself until he has to leave again. It’s not like you mind. You’ll give yourself to him any day of the week if he asks, but it means there are boundaries he’s allowed to push and you aren’t.

Still, you find ways to skirt around your limitations.

“I missed you, too. It’s been so long.”

“Mm. When was the last time I was here? March?”

“Yeah.” Before you can finish your sentence, he switches to your neglected breast and repeats his ministrations. “Right before the album dropped.” 

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I didn’t mean to neglect you.” 

His lips move to your earlobe and it sends a familiar chill down your spine. 

“S’okay. I’ll forgive you as long as you actually touch me,” you tease. 

When he laughs again, you swear it’s like everything in the world just feels right. 

Rather than responding, Jeongguk trails his other hand down your torso until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. He doesn’t dip his fingers beneath the fabric, though, instead choosing to fiddle with the buttons while you grow increasingly more impatient.

“Gguk.” 

“Hmm?”

Along with a dry chuckle, you twist your upper body so you can see him.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?” 

You could drown in his responding smile. 

“No.” His hands move to your hips as he sits you both upright. “But I do know you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Even though you’re in a less compromising position, you’re still between his legs with your back half against his chest.

“For starters, you made me seaweed soup to celebrate the special occasion,” he answers. “And you know I just got done with back-to-back concerts. So I’ll be two seconds into fingering you when you hit me with, ‘no, Ggukie, you deserve to come before I do.’”

Unfortunately, his impression of you is spot on, but you can’t let him have a complete win.

“Eh, five seconds.” 

Perhaps you deserve the reprise of his tickle attack, but you still try evading it by standing to create more distance between you. The only problem is Jeongguk’s arms are long enough to catch you, allowing him to force you onto his lap so his hands can torture you for however long he pleases. 

Which is thankfully not long at all, because once you’re straddling his thighs, his fingers creep underneath your shirt to yank it over your head. Your bra’s his next victim, joining your top on the floor before he leans in to suck your nipple into his mouth. 

“Oh,” you gasp as one hand sinks into his hair. “Fuck.”

He hums around your nub while pinching the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

You would let him play with your tits all night if only you had the time. He’s an expert at bringing you pleasure with his fingers, teeth, and tongue. Alas, he’s right about you wanting him to come first. It’s only fair after how hard he’s been working lately. 

As much as you’d love to let him keep going, you use your grip on his scalp to pull his head away from your chest so you can kiss him. His mouth’s warm and swollen from his efforts, making it all too easy to nibble on his bottom lip until you hear a low groan. 

Jeongguk’s hands are already on a different quest now, too, moving up and down your bare back and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Eventually, one of them glides up into your hair where he turns your soft strands into a mess of knots. 

It’s not like you mind, by the time you two are done your hair’s usually unrecognizable. 

“You should be proud, Ggukie.” You leave his mouth alone to pepper his sharp jaw with kisses. “Thirteen years is a long time.” 

He breathes out a laugh.

“Are you proud of me?” 

The question halts you. Not because of the words themselves, but their sincerity. You lift your head so you can see his eyes and just like you expected, there’s a glimmer of expectation in them.

“I’m always proud of you.” Your fingers in his hair begin to brush some locks away from his face before trailing down his cheek. “And I always have been. Since the day you left for Seoul.” 

A nostalgic smile graces his lips.

“You mean when I kissed you goodbye at the train station?” 

It was your first kiss, his as well, and although it was nothing more than a millisecond-long peck, it stopped your heart. 

“Oh, I’ve never been prouder of you than in that moment.”

His grin grows before he cranes his neck for another kiss, albeit much more chaste than its predecessors. 

“I can’t thank you enough for always being here,” he remarks. “And I’m not just talking about the sex. I know you know that, but I wanna make sure you understand how much you mean to me.” 

It’s so hard getting sentimental without your shirt on because then he can see your whole chest and neck flushing with affection. 

“I know,” you tell him.

Jeongguk sighs and lets his head fall forward into your sternum where he places a couple gentle kisses. 

“You smell nice.” 

The unexpected compliment causes you to snicker. 

“Yeah?” He nods. “Well, surprisingly, you do, too.”

“Because I showered, you brat!”

He’s forced to glance up again when your laughter makes his resting place shake too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind. There’s a wistful smile on his lips as his eyes flit around your face. 

“It’s because you’re expecting to get your dick sucked, isn’t it?” As much as he tries to hide it, the lopsided smirk that forms immediately gives him away. “You greedy bastard.” 

“Oh, please, like I’ve ever stepped through your doors and not gotten my dick sucked.” 

Alright, you suppose that’s fair. 

“Whatever. It still shouldn’t be expected.” 

His tongue hits the roof of his mouth. 

“So it’s not happening?” 

“I never said tha —” 

“Then why aren’t you on your knees yet?” You gawk at him before smacking his chest, leaving him melodramatically clutching his left pec. “I was kidding!” 

“No, you weren’t,” you challenge. 

After another moment, he drops the act and lets his hands roam your hips. 

“I mean, don’t you think I deserve it? Thirteen years of working day in and day out. The least my best friend can do is let me fuck her pretty little mouth.”

It’s genuinely diabolical how wet you become from his words alone. 

“You have a sick interpretation of what best friends are for.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, just tilts his head to one side while waiting for you to give in, because he knows you will. You always do because you want him just as badly as he wants you. That’s why this arrangement works so well and has lasted this long. 

Like clockwork, you roll your eyes and drop to your knees in front of him. It produces an overconfident grin as Jeongguk sinks into the couch and spreads his legs apart to make room for you. 

“And yet, here we are,” he comments. 

You gaze up at him with a fiery glare, but it’s contrary to how your hands are already undoing his belt buckle. He pitches his hips up to help you pull his jeans and boxers down, revealing just how hard he is after everything you two have gotten up to so far. 

His dick’s so pretty; long and thick with big veins running down his shaft. You haven’t even touched him yet, but he’s twitching and leaking precum all over his cockhead. 

“No wonder you’re so demanding tonight, you look like you’re about to bust.” 

He groans when you place your hands on his thighs instead of touching him where he clearly needs you. 

“Please, sunshine, I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day.” 

“Oh?” Your fingers inch higher, but not nearly close enough. “How so?”

“Y/N.”

“If you tell me, I’ll give you what you want,” you sing-song.

Jeongguk’s head falls back onto the cushions as another sound of protest passes through his lips. He must realize you won’t give in, though, because he eventually looks down to hold your eye contact. 

“Since the moment I woke up this morning I’ve been picturing all the different positions I wanna put you in. Could barely focus during soundcheck because of how badly I need you.” 

Well, that was a bad idea because now you’re freaking drenched. But you still gotta maintain a little dignity.

“Is this one of them?”

Before replying, he slowly nods.

“Of many.” 

You sure like the sound of that. It also seems particularly mean to continue torturing him. Not to mention how terribly you want him after months apart. It isn’t the longest you’ve gone without seeing each other, but any amount of time is tough when he’s the only person who knows how to make you feel good. 

So, you move your hands up to give yourself enough leverage before leaning in to kiss his tip. His whole body lurches from your touch, but once your tongue darts out to collect his precum, he relaxes against the couch cushions.

At the same time you moan over his familiar taste, he groans and tosses his head back again. His fingers find your scalp and latch onto your hair, simultaneously pulling it away from your face and giving him an anchor. 

You don’t waste time, not like how you normally do by dragging your tongue up and down his shaft. Tonight you immediately take his head into your mouth while letting spit drip out to lubricate him. 

Jeongguk’s clearly happy with the decision because you feel a harsh tug on your hair as well as his thighs clenching beneath your hands. 

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he mindlessly encourages you. 

Except it actually almost stops you in your tracks. He’s never called you baby before, or any pet name, at least not during a sexual encounter. Maybe while trying to tease you or in a general manner, but never like this. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, though, so you chalk it up to him being deep in the throes of pleasure. 

After pushing the comment from your mind, you inhale through your nose and sink lower, swallowing another inch of length as Jeongguk loudly moans above you.

“God.” While you focus on not gagging, his free hand combs more of your hair back so he can see your lips stretched around his thick cock. “You have no idea how good this feels, sunshine. No one does it like you.” 

You hum in acknowledgment, eliciting another deep moan. 

Before his praises can distract you any longer, you take in one last gulp of air and force your head all the way down to his pelvis. Both you and Jeongguk choke, but surprisingly, his own lasts longer than yours. You’re used to having his dick deep inside your throat, so although it’s been a while, you only need a moment to adjust. 

On the contrary, Jeongguk’s practically losing his mind. Both of his hands land on your head as he endlessly groans and pants your name. 

“Oh, fuck. Jesus… fuck.” It’s hard not to laugh at how seemingly mesmerized he is. “Y/N, baby, please move. Need you so bad.” 

Another one? How does he expect you to give him the blowjob of his dreams when he keeps calling you that? 

Luckily for him, you’ve been doing this long enough to overcome his abnormal behavior. 

You already know exactly how he likes it; slow, sloppy, and wet. Jeongguk’s an attention whore and loves knowing all of your focus is solely on pleasuring him. Hence why you begin leisurely bobbing up and down while using the tip of your tongue to trace the underside of his cock. 

He sighs in relief and you can feel all his muscles unwinding, giving you quite the confidence boost. Jeongguk’s always responsive in these situations, but he seems particularly drunk on you tonight. 

Besides the actions of your tongue and lips, you alternate between moaning and humming whenever his tip sinks deeper into your mouth. You also repeatedly let more spit roll down his shaft, which creates a sinful cacophony of sound when mixed with Jeongguk’s whines and groans. 

“Shit. Oh… my god.” 

When you glance up, all you see is a sharp jawline and pretty neck. But it isn’t long before a pair of shiny, doe eyes meet your gaze. 

Jeongguk’s pupils blow wide when he realizes you're watching him and you even feel his dick twitch inside your esophagus. Soon enough a proud smirk appears and one of his hands traces your profile until he’s caressing your cheek.

“You look so beautiful, sunshine.” He pulls on your hair to bring your mouth back up around his head and you instantly understand the silent memo. Rather than swallowing his length again, you circle and tease the sensitive ridge of his tip with your tongue. “That’s it. Always s’good for me, aren’t you?”

After humming and batting your eyelashes at him, you feel another sharp jolt from his cock. You take it as your cue to keep going and even start massaging his balls that are covered in your drool. In response, Jeongguk shouts a string of curses and his fingers scratch your scalp as he struggles to stay sane. 

You’ve done this enough to know he’s close, but you need a break before you can finish him off. Following one last lap of your mouth, you let your hand take over so you can replenish your oxygen.

“Goddamn,” he huffs as his eyes follow your finger’s movements along his shaft.

“Where do you wanna come?”

His focus shifts to your face again, so you send him a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, sunshine, you already know where.”

“You never know,” you counter. “My tits look pretty good tonight.”

Jeongguk snickers. 

“They always look good.” The next thing you know, he’s leaning down and using his grip on your face to guide you closer. “But I wanna fill you up right here.” 

There’s no need for clarification because he kisses you to explain himself. It’s messy and amorous, not only because of how swollen your lips are, but because Jeongguk shoves his tongue inside your mouth. 

You both moan and more precum leaks from his tip as your wet muscles tangle together. If you aren’t careful, he might come before you even wrap your lips around him again. 

When you finally pull back, a string of saliva stretches between your mouths that Jeongguk swipes away. He leaves his thumb there for a moment, pressing down on your bottom lip before slipping his finger between your teeth. 

Even though you know what he wants, you playfully bite down on his knuckle instead. Following his shocked yelp, you both burst into laughter.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he scolds you. 

“Well, this brat’s still got her hand around your cock.” 

You squeeze his head to make a point, causing Jeongguk to hiss and yank on your hair in retaliation. 

“Can we change that?” As if you two weren’t just teasing each other a second ago, he gently cradles your face again. “Will you let me paint your pretty throat white?” 

If only you could muster a witty response, but all you can manage is an aimless nod that leaves him smirking as he sits back against the couch once more. 

There isn’t any reason to wait, so you let your hand drop back down to his balls before encasing his head between your lips. You immediately bring his entire length inside your mouth again, picking up where you left off without any hesitation. 

Similarly, it doesn’t take long for Jeongguk to teeter on the brink of ecstasy. After only a few strokes, you feel his balls tighten and then his hot cum floods your mouth. His release makes him groan so loud you actually worry your neighbors will hear, but you also don’t care when you’re busy swallowing his seed. 

Jeongguk always tastes good and you can’t resist moaning while moving up and down his shaft to collect all his cum. 

“Holy shit, baby,” he gasps as you continue lick and suck throughout his climax. “Fuck, don’t stop.” 

Not like you need to be told twice. You love breaking him off just as much as he does. 

Once he’s practically devoid of semen and you’re out of oxygen, you release his cock and sit back on your heels. Jeongguk melts into the couch afterwards, including his eyes rolling back as his whole body relaxes. 

“Good?” 

He humorlessly laughs.

“The best fucking head of my life.” 

In the middle of you pridefully giggling, Jeongguk hooks his arms under your shoulders to hoist you back up. But you have other plans, and before he can manhandle you into his lap, you grab the bottom hem of his shirt to pull it off. 

He’s so fucking sexy it makes your head spin, especially after how much he’s been working out on tour. You could spend hours just running your tongue along his abs if he’d only let you. 

“Oh, is this what you want?” 

Instead of waiting for a response, Jeongguk tugs your jeans and panties to the floor in one smooth motion before guiding you to straddle him again. 

As if he wasn’t wet enough from your blowjob, your cunt lands right on his dick and all the essence you’ve been leaking since the moment he stepped inside your house lubricates him even more. 

“Oh, my god,” you whine, causing him to smile over his effect on you.

“You get this wet just from sucking me off, sunshine?” Despite how embarrassing it is, you nod. “Good. Want you to be nice and soaked when I fuck you.” 

“Ggukie, please.”

“Yeah, is that what you want? For me to fuck you just right? Like I always do?”

“Mmhm.”

Based on past patterns, you expect him to drive his cock into you without another word, but his hands just trace your curves while his eyes map your features. 

You’re about to question his hesitation when he delicately cups your jaw, causing your eyebrows to pinch together.

“What if I want more?” He asks sincerely, in complete contrast to a moment ago.

“What?”

Jeongguk inhales and licks his lips.

“What if I don’t want to just see you whenever I’m in Busan? What if I want to see you in my bedroom and my kitchen and lying on my couch?”

“In… in Seoul?” 

He smiles.

“Itaewon.”

If your heart wasn’t about to beat out of your body, your eyes would roll back so far they’d get stuck. 

“Jeongguk, my whole life’s here. My job, my family —”

“I know, sunshine. I do.” His fingertips brush against your cheek and it takes all your willpower not to rest your head in his palm. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy or can happen right away, but eventually…” He looks uncharacteristically nervous and it makes you hold your breath in anticipation. “Eventually, I want your face to be the first thing I see when I come home at the end of the day.” 

The air you were keeping captive disappears in an instant as you digest his words. You desperately want them to mean exactly what they sound like, but you’re terrified of misinterpreting the situation. 

Except when you focus on how Jeongguk’s looking at you, with starry eyes full of wonder and hope, you don’t believe you are. Which elicits quite possibly the biggest smile you’ve ever worn before you lean in to kiss him. 

Jeongguk catches on quickly, his fingers on your face sliding into your hair so he can keep you close. Your own hands move from his shoulders to his neck while his opposite arm circles your waist. It doesn’t even matter that you’re naked, all your attention’s on the fluid movement of your mouths and how undeniably happy you are. 

“I’m crazy about you, Y/N,” he whispers to your lips. 

Although you delightfully giggle at first, you soon pull away to smack his chest. 

“What took you so damn long, huh?” 

He momentarily gawks before parroting your laughter.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just didn’t think I’d be able to handle it all.” 

“I wouldn’t have cared,” you protest. 

“But I would’ve. I needed to make sure I could be an idol and the boyfriend you deserve before asking you to be anything more than this.” 

As much as you want to fight him on it, there’s no going back now, and all you truly care about is having a future with him. 

“And you feel like you can do that?” 

You trust him to be everything you deserve and more, but you want to ensure he won’t be spreading himself too thin for your sake. 

“I do. More importantly, I want to,” he clarifies. “I want you so fucking bad, and I don’t mean sexually. I wanna cook you dinner, take you out for ice cream, and go on walks near the Han river.” 

“Oh, I’ve never been there.”

“I know! I’ve been dying to take you for years.” 

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Jeongguk this excited about something, and your possible life together being the reason is more than you could ever wish for. 

“I want that, too,” you declare. “I’ve always wanted you, Ggukie.”

When he smiles in response to your confession, it feels like the entire world around you falls away. In fact, you barely register him closing in for another kiss. And you certainly don’t realize he’s flipping you over until you feel the cushions on your back. 

Nothing else really matters after that, anyway. You two have had sex so many times over the years it’s the last thing on your mind in comparison to the future. 

Not to say you don’t thoroughly enjoy yourself when he puts you in all those positions he mentioned earlier, but all you can think about is what sex will be like in a shared bed. One you’ll wake up and fall asleep in together, for many years to come. 

Someone shuffled beside you in bed, and a large arm came up around you, trapping you in the pillowy white blanket underneath its weight. You glanced down, a familiar pattern of tattoos inked into the skin of the bicep currently pinning you to the mattress.

Oh right.

You turned your head, coming face to face with a very much still asleep Jungkook. You froze in place, all the memories from last night rushing back to you all at once.

The after-party, the black-suited security guard instructing you to stay put and asking you to wait a little longer, the two heavy stacks of documents you were suddenly handed, and, through shaky eyes, you scribbled and signed before being escorted to a large van with tinted windows.

You blinked a few times, as if to try to prove to yourself that this wasn't a dream. Jungkook's lips were parted slightly, his face soft and relaxed, his stage makeup from the night before still around his eyes and ever so slightly smudged. His hair fell over his face, bangs stuck oddly in different places, his lips full and pouty.

Even when sleeping, this man was devastatingly gorgeous.

You studied his face for a little while, in silent awe of being in his bed. You shuffled a little and rolled onto your side, turning your back to him as his little spoon. You slid yourself back towards him until you were met with his warm, bare chest. Jungkook subconsciously slid his arm down, landing his arm comfortably on the smallest part of your waist. Your heart was pounding at the touch; the only separation between his arm and your very naked body was the duvet that was draped lazily over your torso.

You settled into your new position, still half asleep and comfy, and saw a mess of black and blonde hair from over the little hill in the blanket. You couldn't help but smile to yourself, the giddiness returning in full swing.

The other wildly exciting part of your night.

Taehyung was facing away from you, lying on his stomach, his hair peeking out from above the blanket. His arms were tucked neatly under his pillow, the flex of his biceps so close to you sending a stir to your stomach again.

Maybe if you stayed completely still, they would keep sleeping, and you could stay here forever.

You let yourself drift back to sleep, but your heart was already awake and racing. There was no way you could fall asleep again now. You shuffled a little under the blanket again, curling yourself up into a little ball as you tried to get extra comfy. Then there was some movement on the mattress. Taehyung lifted his head off his pillow, staring off at the wall for a few seconds before turning his head to finally face you.

"Oh, you're awake." He spoke in a low whisper in the dark bedroom; his morning voice was rough and gravelly, but the same silkiness like honey poured through.

You nodded with a soft smile, and he smiled back, reaching his arm over the blanket to pet your chin. You felt yourself flush, the shyness hitting you at full force. You flustered at his touch, and he let out a soft chuckle.

"Does your head hurt?" he whispered, hand still resting gently on your face.

"Not really, I'm a little dizzy," you replied.

"Sit tight. Let me get you some water."

Taehyung sat up in bed, his bare back facing you as he sat on the edge of his side of the bed, stretching his neck side to side before standing up. Your eyes drifted to the tattoo on his lower back, something you never thought you'd be able to see so detailed and up close. You couldn't do anything but stare, still in such shock about how you ended up here.

He walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of water before cracking it open and returning to the bed.

"Here."

You nodded your head and thanked him, propping yourself up on your arm so you could take a sip. The icy, cool water was an immediate relief to your dry throat. Taehyung watched you as you took a few sips from the bottle, the water feeling like God's gift to your hungover body right now.

Jungkook stirred behind you, his arm still heavy on your waist. You heard a few quiet, sleepy hums behind you, and you turned your head back to face him, his eyes cracking open slowly.

"Mm," he hummed, eyes blinking slowly as he woke up in phases. His eyes landed on you, tucked safely under his arm and pressed against his warm, bare chest.

"Morning," he said with a lazy smile, before his eyes closed again. He pulled you in a little closer, the comfort of cuddling you lulling him back to sleep.

"Jungkook-ah," Taehyung climbed back into bed, reaching over you to nudge his friend on the shoulder. Jungkook furrowed his brows and lifted his head, eyes open again.

"It's almost nine. Get up."

Jungkook let out a grunt in protest before looking down at you, still cradled in his arms.

"Have fun last night?" he said with a small, sleepy smirk.

You crinkled your nose, turning your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassed smile. Jungkook laughed before planting a kiss on the back of your shoulder.

"I'll take that as a yes."

He sat up and rolled his neck a few times, his broad bare back perfectly chiselled, even in the dark room. You felt your mouth water, your head still resting on the pillow.

Jungkook shuffled down the hall, and a few moments later, the bathroom light flicked on, the door swinging half-closed.

Taehyung was back in bed with you, now lying on his back, still shirtless and only in his sleep shorts. He looked at you with quiet curiosity before opening his arm towards you, patting his chest with his other hand.

You scooted closer to him and rested your head on his chest, his warm, strong arm wrapping around you safely. You nestled yourself deeper into him; the smell of his sweat mixed with the leathery notes of his cologne was enough to drive you crazy.

"Sleep well?" Taehyung mumbled as he traced soft circles on your arm.

"Mhm," you hummed, your hand resting on his chest next to your cheek.

"Good," he replied, giving your arm a quick squeeze.

He tilted you up by the chin, your eyes locking with his, only inches away from each other. You felt everything inside you turn into a puddle at his touch.

"I had a lot of fun last night," he said with a lazy smile. "I hope it wasn't too much for you."

"No, I had fun—it was fun," you said with a smile, fighting the blush from rising to your cheeks.

Taehyung leaned in and brought his lips down on yours, his full, pouting lips electrifying you as he kissed you. You parted your lips involuntarily, and he let out a soft laugh as he deepened the kiss, delicately, sweetly, and not aggressively and dominating like it was last night.

"Mm," you hummed into his mouth, and he smiled into the kiss for a moment before he pushed himself deeper against you, his tongue swiping your lower lip for entry. You let your mouth fall open, granting him access to the inside of your mouth. Taehyung wasn't rushed; he licked your tongue softly first, before darting his tongue in a little deeper, sweeping the inside of your mouth like he was trying to map out the inside of your mouth before you had to leave.

"Tae," you moaned, the sensation of his wet tongue against yours so early in the morning sending a fire directly to your lower core.

"Gonna miss this pretty mouth when we fly out tonight," he murmured into your mouth.

Taehyung lifted you up so that you were practically lying on top of him now, and he pulled away from your lips for a moment, propping his pillow up behind him so he was sitting up a little more, watching you with those hypnotizing eyes.

"Why don't you leave us with one more memory before you have to go?" His tone was lower, dripping with his want for you, his eyes the same as they were last night: dark and commanding.

You bit your lower lip as you slid yourself down his bare torso, landing yourself right at his waist. Taehyung was already hard beneath the fabric of his pyjama shorts, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you intently.

With one hand, you slipped his waistband down, his waiting cock peeking out from the waistband, flushed and already a little glistened from precum.

You were the luckiest girl on earth.

You took him in your mouth, the familiar salty sweetness of his arousal coating your tongue. Taehyung's mouth fell open, his eyes trained on you as you swirled your tongue expertly over the head of his needy cock.

"Mmm, so gorgeous," he moaned as he watched you.

Your head was still spinning a little from the alcohol, but you blinked hard to maintain your focus. Your wet, pouty lips worked his tip as you licked at the soft tendon at the underside of his cock.

Taehyung bucked his hips a little at the sensation you were giving him, his one arm coming up to hold up the back of his head.

"Yeah, just like that."

You dipped your head lower, his cock sinking deeper into your mouth, nudging on the back of your throat. Taehyung let out a deep, breathy moan, his eyes fluttering closed as you slid your mouth up and down his length.

"Fuck," he grunted, before his other hand flew to the back of your head, pushing you further down onto his long, thick cock. "Obsessed with you."

You felt yourself gag a little at the force of his hand on the top of your head, guiding you further and further down his length. He was deep down your throat now, his thickness filling your mouth entirely, knocking your uvula with every bounce. You closed your eyes, focused on pleasing the superstar sprawled out in front of you. You closed your hand into a fist, fighting the tears that threatened to escape your eyes from the intensity of his fullness in your mouth.

Taehyung bobbed you up and down with his guided hand, his hips bucking upwards to let himself feel even more of you, the stretch of your mouth around him driving him crazy.

"So fucking good, hm? Fucking love this mouth," he hissed as he continued fucking your mouth, his satoori bleeding through every anunciation of his words. "Fuck."

"I still feel fucking drunk," Jungkook suddenly turned the corner, reappearing from the bathroom, toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

He stopped in his tracks at the sight of you, naked and on your knees in front of Taehyung, your head being pinned down by his hand as he fucked your mouth like you were his personal little pornstar.

"Huh, so this is what you were doing while I was washing my face," Jungkook scoffed, taking a step closer towards the foot of the bed.

You let out a muffled moan, and Taehyung released his hand from your head, letting you finally catch some air. You pulled off of him with a desperate wet pop, your eyes and lashes wet, your chin already dribbling with saliva. You were panting as you brought your hand up to Taehyung's cock, still determined to please him. You pumped your hand up and down his length firmly, milking him as you caught your breath.

"Hyung, you're so fucking greedy," Jungkook murmured, taking another step towards the bed so that he was only a couple of feet behind you at the foot of the bed.

Jungkook was still shirtless in his gym shorts, and he watched quietly as you continued to please his bandmate, your hand pumping Taehyung's cock with a steady pace, dipping your head back onto the first few inches of his length.

"Ugh, fuck, you're so pretty," Jungkook groaned, palming himself over his shorts now. "Even in the early morning, you're just as much of a giver as you were last night."

"Isn't she such a good girl?" Taehyung looked up at his dongsaeng with a cocky smirk. "Sucking me off for breakfast."

"Mhm," Jungkook replied, his voice low and hungry.

Jungkook pulled the toothbrush from his mouth, wiping his mouth on the abandoned towel on the bench at the foot of the bed.

"Can you handle some more, love?" Jungkook's words were sweet, but the way they came out of his mouth was mean, like he was teasing you.

You popped your mouth off of Taehyung and tossed your hair over your shoulder to look back at Jungkook. You didn't say anything, just gave him a look, that look that got you into this mess in the first place.

He let out half a cocky laugh before he slid his shorts down, undressing himself behind you.

You felt your core burning already, your pussy clenching around the painful nothingness. The cool air of the hotel room felt extra sensitive against your exposed cunt, your ass up in the air from pleasing Taehyung.

"C'mere," Jungkook said with a growl as he reached forward, gripping your hips and yanking you backwards towards him. You let out a giggly yelp at the way he manhandled you.

Jungkook slid his thumb against your pussy, the pad of his thumb parting your folds so easily. You shivered at the sensation, the glide of his finger sending little sparks throughout your whole body.

"Already dripping," he murmured to himself. "Tae, you got her so wet already."

Taehyung let out a laugh, giving Jungkook a cocky half-shrug as he took his own cock into his left hand, pumping himself lazily.

"She has good taste."

Jungkook dipped a finger into you first, the feeling of something, anything inside of you making you gasp. He hummed as he slid another finger into you, before he began to scissor his fingers inside of you, stretching you out.

"Hnng, JK," you hissed, your head dropping forward against the blanket.

"Shh shh," Jungkook said with a smirk. "Just getting you ready for me, baby."

"I think she can handle it already, Koo." Taehyung was watching you, face pressed into the blanket to muffle your moans as he jerked himself off to the view.

The sensation of Jungkook's fingers suddenly went away, before being replaced by the burning, splitting sensation of his cock pressing into you, slowly, inch by inch.

"Ah!" You wailed into the blanket, the soft pillow duvet swallowing any of your cries. "Too-too much."

"You can take it," Taehyung growled, still fucking his hand in front of your face. "You took it so well last night, didn't you, baby?"

You nodded and propped yourself back up properly before arching your back, giving yourself fully to Jungkook as he sank deeper into you, until he was completely sheathed inside of your pussy. The feeling of him filling you completely was shattering your sanity; Jungkook was hung, bigger than any of the boyfriends from your past, and he knew exactly how to use all nine inches of his pretty cock.

"That's it," Jungkook groaned, staying still for a moment as you quaked and clenched around him desperately, trying to get used to the feeling of him again. "Take it. Take all of me, pretty girl."

"F-fuck," you moaned, lifting your head off the bed finally. "God, you feel so good inside of me."

"Love my cock, huh? Wanna take it all for me like a good girl, ah?" Jugnkook's voice was gravelly and low, his Busan accent thick and evident in every sentence as he got lost in the feeling of you, still drunk and sleepy.

"Yes, JK," you whimpered.

He began to set a rhythm, rocking his hips against your ass at a pace that knocked the wind out of your lungs. You let out a cry at the intensity, his length splitting you in half as he fucked you from behind.

Taehyung groaned at the sight of you, falling apart already on Jungkook's cock. You looked up at Taehyung through needy eyes, your brows furrowed and lips pouting as your breath matched the pace of every slam of Jungkook's hips into you.

"Think you can take us both, hm?" Taehyung's accent was thick, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you like a jaguar. "Come here, take this cock too."

You swallowed between gasps before reaching forward, wrapping your hand around Taehyung's girthy size again. He cocked his head to the side as he watched you, his other hand coming up to fluff the back of his hair.

"Come on, princess, don't be shy," Jungkook growled from behind you, still fucking you expertly. "Show us what you can do."

You could barely think straight with how well Jungkook's cock was hitting your g-spot, knocking stars into your vision with every thrust. You shook your head a little before poking your tongue out of your mouth again, enveloping Taehyung in your mouth once more.

"Fuuuck," Taehyung moaned, dropping his head back against his pillow. "You're a gorgeous little cumslut, aren't you?"

You nodded a little as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock again, swallowing every inch of him that you could possibly take. Taehyung's length stretched your mouth out so crudely, and he sneered at you as he watched you struggle to take him all in your mouth.

"Too fucking big for you?" Taehyung groaned, his dialect itching your ears in just the right way. "Dirty girl, you can do it."

You felt like your body was on fire; every part of you felt full, spent, but your head was spinning with how much pleasure you were experiencing. Jungkook was fucking you so well from behind, every thrust of his hips pushing you deeper onto Taehyung's cock.

"Wanna see you fall apart like this on the both of us, honey," Jungkook groaned before dropping his hand down to your pussy, rubbing slow, controlled, firm circles on your clit.

You let out a muffled cry, the sounds dampened against Taehyung's length stuffed in your mouth. He grinned down at you, your mouth so full of him, and his other hand came back down to hold you steady.

You felt like you were going to die, but you already were in heaven.

Your core burned hotter and hotter, the cord inside of you beginning to stretch impossibly tight. Jungkook's tip was knocking against your sensitive spot so perfectly, and you thought you could pass out from the pleasure.

The rhythm of his hips suddenly faltered for a moment, and Jungkook leaned down, fishing his phone out of his shorts that were left abandoned on the floor.

The blanket around you was suddenly illuminated by a phone light, and your eyes widened as you realized Jungkook was filming you, spread open, bent over, and taking him like a pornstar. Humiliation immediately washed over your whole body, and you were sure that if you weren't red in the face before, you definitely were now.

"Jungkook—" you gasped, popping your mouth off of Taehyung for a moment.

"Don't worry, angel, nobody's ever going to see this except me. And Hyung."

Taehyung chuckled, his hand pushing your head back down along him. He gave you a wink, the small gesture sending a surge of adrenaline through your body, and you picked up the pace.

"Ugh fuck, look at her. Performing for the camera."

Jungkook held the camera at arm's length so that he was filming himself fucking you, selfie-style, as you sucked Taehyung off. He threw his head back into the pillow again, his lower lip pinched between his teeth as his abdomen was flexed, his pleasure taking over his whole demeanour.

"Gonna fucking cum in this pretty mouth," Taehyung hissed, brows furrowed as he sat up a little further, his V-line and abdomen on perfect display, glistening with sweat and flexed.

"Sin fucking city," Jungkook said to the camera with a cocky laugh. "Look at her."

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you persisted. Jungkook's fingers were still working your clit, and you were desperately trying not to explode, not to scream out in pleasure.

Taehyung let out a long, pornographic moan as he reached his climax, his warm, desperate spurts hitting you in the back of your throat. Your mouth was suddenly flooded with the salty-sweet taste of him, thick and creamy on your tongue.

"Fuuck-God," Taehyung hissed, his hand pushing you down along his length impossibly deep as he rode out his high. "Horny little slut, taking my load in her pretty mouth."

You dragged your tongue along the underside of his length, all the way up to the top, cleaning him up with your mouth before you drank all of him down. You swallowed with a gasp, your mouth falling open to show Taehyung that you had taken all of him so well, just like he wanted.

Taehyung's hand released from your head to tilt you up to look at him by the chin. You held eye contact with him through teary eyes, still rocking forward on your knees as Jungkook fucked you. Taehyung's eyes were still dark, but his gestures were a little sweeter now, his thumb dragging along your lower lip, wiping up the residual cum dripping from your mouth.

"Pretty girl," he hummed. "Getting me off so well while Koo fucks you from the back."

You let out a whine at Taehyung's gentle hands as Jungkook wrecked you, the two opposite sensations making your head spin.

"Please, please," you begged, your eyes needy and wet as you held Taehyung's gaze. "Feels so-so good, Tae. Gonna—"

"Fuck, she feels so tight around me," Jungkook hissed, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought his own pleasure, his camera still on you.

You were teetering on the edge now, your climax dangerously close. You squeezed your eyes shut, the pleasure manifesting itself in the faces you were making, desperate, vulnerable, and so erotic.

Taehyung's voice broke through your trance.

"Look at me."

Your eyes flew open, Taehyung's hand returning to your chin as he held you up, forcing you to look at him. He was smiling at you, not sweet, but cocky.

"Just wanna remember what you look like as you cum, hm?" Taehyung said with a grin.

That was it.

Your climax ripped through your body, the intensity so strong that your vision went blurry, and you dropped your head to the blanket, as you wailed into the covers. Taehyung lifted your head back up with ease, your eyes rolled back into your head, eyes fluttering, knuckles white as you gripped the bedsheets. You felt a warm rush of liquid escape you, dripping down your thighs and trickling onto the bed with an audible drip.

"Fuck, so sexy," Jungkook hissed, maintaining his mean pace. "Squirting all over me like a dirty whore."

"Tae, too much, he's too much," you sobbed, the pleasure mixing with pain as Jungkook knocked his cock into you, his pace picking up as he neared his climax.

"Shh, you can take it," Taehyung murmured, stroking your cheek. "Take it, doll."

Jungkook let out a low groan through gritted teeth, his phone abandoned on the bed, both his hands gripping you by the hips as he pounded into you continuously.

"Fuck, you squeeze around me so well, gonna fucking cum in this slutty cunt, huh?"

You felt your body go limp, but you stayed on your knees so obediently, letting Jungkook climb to his peak as he fucked you feverishly.

A large hand came down on your ass, giving you a stinging slap. You wailed out, your fingers coming up to intertwine with Taehyung's.

"Fucking perfect girl," Jungkook growled. "Letting me fuck her while Hyung watches. Gonna fucking wreck you, baby."

"Let Jungkook cum in your pretty pussy, baby," Taehyung cooed.

"Fuck-yes, Jung-kook-please," you stuttered, far too drunk off his cock to even think straight. "Please, finish in my tight little pussy, it's all yours, my pussy is yours."

Jungkook let out a low guttural groan as he pressed himself deep into you, up to the hilt. His head dropped forward as he reached his climax.

"Fucking shit," he moaned as you felt his ropes shoot inside of you, jagged and pulsing. Jungkook painted your walls with his pleasure, his breath releasing in short pants and hisses as he fucked himself through his high.

You were entirely spent now, your body was limp and boneless, and you collapsed onto the bed by Taehyung's legs. Jungkook collapsed beside you at the foot of the bed, his length still buried inside of you.

The three of you lay on the bed, sprawled in every direction in silence, the only sound in the room was the panting and heavy breathing from both you and Jungkook. Taehyung's hand came up to pet your hair gently, stroking your head with a soft rub of his thumb.

He reached over for the water bottle he had brought you earlier on the nightstand and uncapped it again, bringing it to your lips. Your eyes fluttered open at the contact with the plastic bottle, and you opened your mouth slightly, allowing Taehyung to bottle feed you sips of water through heavy breaths.

"Good girl," he cooed. "Such a good girl."

Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist again, holding you in close as his breathing returned to normal. He pressed sweet kisses along your shoulder, your back, your spine.

"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?"

Jungkook gently pulled himself out of you, the mix of your fluids dripping out onto the bedsheets. You covered your face in embarrassment, but Jungkook's hand came up to pull your wrist off.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

The shower turned on with a roar, the water pressure strong and thumping against the glass door already. Steam slowly began to fill the chamber, and Jungkook reached into the shower to test the temperature.

Taehyung was standing behind you, his hands rubbing up and down your arms possessively as he waited for the shower to warm up.

"It's good," Jungkook mumbled as he stepped in, and then turned to face you, his hand reaching out to help you in.

You stepped over the little step of the shower floor, joining Jungkook in the steamy chamber. The scent of eucalyptus and citrus filled your senses, the steam soothing your whole body almost instantly.

Taehyung stepped in behind you before he closed the door, the three of you standing impossibly close together. You were pinched between the two tall, muscular men, both of them facing you as their hands lazily explored your wet body.

"Sweet girl," Taehyung murmured into your ear, planting a kiss on the back of your neck. "Thanks for spending the night."

You nodded, and Jungkook tilted you up to face him with a finger on your chin. He grinned at you, lip ring twinkling under the potlight, before leaning in to press a sweet, soft kiss on your lips.

The two of them reached for the body wash that was mounted on the wall, each pumping twice, before lathering the soap in their hands. Jungkook then opened his hands towards you, his hands immediately gently gripping your breasts in his hand, giving them a soft squeeze as he began to spread the bubbly body wash across your body, massaging you as he cleaned you.

Taehyung followed suit, his hands firmly on your shoulders, massaging the tension out with his soapy hands before spreading the lather across your back, scrubbing gently and thoroughly down the length of your spine. You felt yourself melt at their touch, so intimate and loving.

"Mm, feels good," you sighed, your head dropping back onto Taehyung's shoulder.

"Yeah, she's sleepy," Jungkook said with a chuckle. "I'd be too."

You stood between them as they washed themselves, the scent of the bodywash making your head spin.

When all three of you were perfectly clean again, Taehyung reached around you and turned off the water before reaching out of the shower door to grab a towel. He stepped out first, wrapping the towel around his waist, before grabbing a second and third one, motioning for you to step out of the shower towards him. You did.

Jungkook stepped out of the shower behind you, and Taehyung handed him one of the towels. He wrapped it around his waist tightly before they both turned their focus back to you.

"Arms up," Taehyung said softly, and you lifted your arms over your head.

He wrapped the towel around your torso, tucking it in at the edge so it hung like a dress. Jungkook pressed the towel against your body, helping you dry yourself. Once you were comfortably wrapped up, Jungkook stepped towards the mirror, shaking his wet tendrils of hair around like a puppy dog. He collected another towel from the shelf to dry his hair.

You returned to the bed, sitting on the edge as Taehyung got dressed in front of you. He glanced at the clock on the wall.

10:04am.

"Jungkookie-ah, we gotta go soon."

"Yah," Jungkook called from inside the bathroom.

Taehyung turned back to look at you.

"We have late check out. You can nap here until we come back, if you want."

You were so sleepy, too blissed out to move. You nodded, giving him a weak smile as you let yourself lie back in bed.

Taehyung looked at you with a laugh before coming around the bed again, petting your head gently.

"Sleep well. We'll try to get ready quietly."

You nodded, already feeling half-asleep as you melted back into the pillows and blanket, the cool Egyptian cotton bundling you up so addictively.

You didn't realize you had drifted off to sleep until your eyes snapped open to the sound of a knock at the door.

"That's probably Hobi-hyung," Taehyung murmured, now fully dressed, with a pair of sunglasses sitting on his head, and his backpack over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm ready to go," Jungkook hummed, his hair fluffy and blow-dried, bare-faced and zipped up in a black hoodie.

"It was nice meeting you," Jungkook said, giving you a nod, his hands in his pockets. "Maybe when we're back in Vegas?" He gave you a wink.

You buried your face a little deeper into the blanket, the shyness returning.

"Yeah," you murmured, your mouth breaking into a wide smile.

Jungkook laughed, watching you fumble in your own shyness for a moment, before Taehyung nudged him by the shoulder.

"Come on, let's go," Taehyung urged. "They're all waiting for us."

Taehyung turned back to you with a little smirk.

"See you in a few hours."

And then the door opened and closed with a dull squeak and then a soft click, sealing you into this bubble of them, the twelve-hour whirlwind that you had found yourself in. You let your eyes flutter shut, the lingering smell of sweat and eucalyptus lulling you into what was going to be, possibly, the best sleep of your fucking life.

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i just blacked out and wrote this im missing out on precious sleep and i'm not proofreading it

bitch i need to touch grass!!!! ♡⃛