river. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Your hair fell perfectly just below your shoulders, curled inwardly at its ends to frame your face. Your body was clothed with a simple white bandeau top with lace detailing along its hem, washed denim jeans which clung to your legs and widened slightly at your calves and short beige heels. Your area of contention fell with your bag — a beige leather saddle bag with a chocolate handle and gold detailing. Like a woman demented, you held the bag up to your eye in the mirror and stared intensely. Your makeup was simple and understated, little to medium coverage, lashes coated with dark mascara, deep brown eyelids which blended into caramel and a light dusting of highlighter for a sparkle which was only caught momentarily under certain light angles. Your lip of choice was even further understated; opting for a very sheer pink lipgloss to coat them as a finishing touch. On any other day, this wasn’t even something you’d offer a second glance.

However, a date with Jeon Jungkook required a little more of your attention than normal.

You had been BTS’ makeup artist for years, working under HYBE. You were exceptional at your job, able to touch up a member in six minutes flat. Jungkook managed to stretch his specific slot to a solid ten, between his fidgeting, him cracking jokes which adequately distracted you and making blending products an uphill battle. Truly, he should’ve been close to being considered a nuisance for it, especially in the beginning when you kindly attempted to redirect him into focusing for those few minutes, but there was something about his distractions that you found wholly endearing. A few years into working with them and it was commonplace to let your guard down around him, similarly throwing jokes his way. You had banter with the other members, of course, but they seemed to have a knack for remaining on the status quo simultaneously. You were unsure if it was a skill Jungkook had failed to master or he just didn’t bother with it, but the moments the two of you shared with a lingered gaze or a touch that remained a second too long informed you that it was most likely the latter. Those moments with him were treasured more than you realised, as you looked forward to those few minutes in your hectic days.

However, apparently you failed to treasure them sufficiently as you were reassigned to ENHYPEN shortly after the BTS members gradually trickled into military service. The news came as an unpleasant surprise to you; ENHYPEN were sweethearts on the occasions that you had bumped into them previously, but it felt like a fall from grace. Not only were you losing the group you had closely worked with for years, but more importantly Jungkook was leaving. It wasn’t like you hadn’t already played the scenario over and over in your head, however you couldn’t have prepared yourself for just how emotional it felt. If Jungkook was upset he failed to show it; his simple “we’ll meet again :)” message prior to enlistment informed you of such. It shockingly took you a while to truly come to terms with the news, but what with getting into the swing of forming a new professional relationship with ENHYPEN and supporting their activities, leaving BTS soon didn’t carry such a heavy sting to your heart. The thought went from lingering to fleeting on the most random of days.

It was an unassuming Wednesday morning on your off day when you saw the headline; ‘BTS’ Jimin, Jungkook released from military service’. You had a rough idea as to when he was due to be discharged, but not down to the exact date: it was no wonder how you managed to choke on your coffee as soon as the headline drop down in your notification center. Pictures of him flooded the internet; clothed in classic military camouflage and cradling a white colored bouquet of flowers in hand with Jimin in tow similarly nursing a pink bundle. They somehow appeared more stoic yet still maintained their charming nature from the stills you had come across. It suddenly seemed like the BTS you knew too well was suddenly so far out of reach, their military service placing barriers of knowingness between you and them. You made a habit of texting your well wishes to the guys as they trickled out of their enlistments one by one, but you took an embarrassingly long time to text Jungkook. You entered and erased the words too many times to count, overthought possible greetings to the point of near mania. As fate would have it, however, a text that popped up on your screen on a random evening eradicated your irrational fear almost instantly, from Jungkook: “this is random, but do you want to hang out at mine sometime?”

Now, you weren’t crazy — through further back and forth chats, Jungkook confirmed that it was a date he intended on taking you on; you wouldn’t have induced this close call of a crazy episode over mere delusion. You were a little more sensible than that (at least, you’d like to think so), thankfully. The soft glow of your phone screen coming to life was what drew your attention from the corner of your eye and allowed you to finally set your tortured bag down on your lap. Placing your thumb and pointer finger on either side of the screen, you tilted the screen towards your face to see a text message notification from the driver, notifying you of his presence. It would be easy to give him cookie points for being such a gentleman for sending a driver for you, but in reality it was the norm for an idol with the amount of popularity that Jungkook held – a regular taxi was a rumor waiting to happen and your own car was out of the question. With a small huff, you placed your makeup brush down in your vanity and offered your body another lucky few sprits of perfume, before making your way out of your place.

In the nick of time, you were before his apartment door. Wet spots adorned the bottom of your jeans where the evening rain had intruded, but luckily you were largely unscathed due to the driver’s stashed umbrella. On bated breath, you raised a finger to press against the doorbell, hearing the familiar jingle echo within its walls. The thirty or so seconds that followed stretched longer than what you would seem necessary, your heart pounding in your throat as you fumbled with the few bracelets hanging off your wrists. Soon, though, a few clicks of the lock turning was heard and suddenly you stood up straight.

There he was; hair recently messed with, a dark smart shirt rolled up haphazardly around the sleeves to reveal the roll of the inked artwork which blend onto his hands (which were notably wet) and dark color slacks his outfit was partially covered by a black and white striped apron hanging on his waist. As you bowed slightly to greet him, his mouth spread into a welcoming smile. “Ah, I’d give you a hug but my hands are all…” he gestured to the water dripping from his digits. “Don’t worry, I’m not holding a hug against you,” you quipped, a small giggle hiding behind your words. He too mirrored your small laugh, opening the door wider and stepping aside to allow space for you to step in. As you do, you expected him to return to whatever he was busying himself with in the kitchen, but he seemingly watched you as you slid out of your heels and into a pair of house slippers at the door. “Are you gonna keep watching me like one of your stalkers?” you spoke as you stepped onto the floorboards of his apartment. Unlike what you were expecting, he seemed bashful at the mention of him watching your move. He let out a cough into his fist and redirected his gaze to the floor briefly as if it was the most interesting view in the world. “N-No, it’s just- been a long time and - ahem - you look so pretty so,” he uttered softly. It was worlds apart from the mischievous, quick young man that you once knew. When did he become so bashful? Was it the new environment or did your worst nightmare come true — the military did change Jungkook as you knew him?

The latter choice may have been a slight overreaction on your end, admittedly.

Only a mere 30 minutes later, you were seated at his small dining table weaving pasta strands between the metal prongs of your fork while he told tales of his days in military. On both of your plates was truffle cream pasta with steak and asparagus on the side. Having heard all the members enthuse about his culinary expertise for years, it felt like a full circle moment to finally have the chance to taste his cooking after years of repeated promises — and it didn’t disappoint either. “I don’t think I want to peel another carrot or potato for years now, they must’ve been punishing me for a past life sin,” Jungkook muttered, feigning disgust. His complaint made you laugh, while also sympathising. It was enough of a chore to peel vegetables for personal use, but for military soldiers was a different ball game entirely. “How many do you think you peeled while you were there? Ballpark figure,” you queried as you speared a piece a steak on your fork. His eyebrow piercing glinted under the spotlights in the kitchen as he thought, then turned his face towards his phone which laid by his side on the table. “Hey Siri, how many carrots and potatoes does any one person peel in their lifetime?” he suddenly spoke, face etched as stone as if it was the most serious conversation he had ever held in his life. As if Siri was as similarly puzzled as you at the question, it took her longer than usual to respond. “Over an average lifetime, a person consumes roughly 10,800 carrots and eats approximately 15,000 to 16,000 potatoes,” the virtual assistant chirped out steadily. “Easily twice that amount,” Jungkook responded without missing a beat. With the exaggerated number and his deadpan nature, you laughed heartily at his response.

“‘Kook, you cannot be serious,” you spoke in the midst of giggles, almost choking on what remained of your food. His expression was what you could only describe as incredulous, although you knew from prior years of banter, it was all in jest. “I swear to whatever deity I can swear to, I started seeing them in my dreams.” He pointed to his temple in emphasis, as if it were possible to see the unassuming vegetables wreck havoc buried within the wrinkles of his brain if you concentrated enough. Shaking your head in disbelief at the sheer drama of it all, you gripped both empty plates before you and stood to your feet to wash the dishes. However, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist stopped you in your tracks. “Don’t,” Jungkook instructed gently, similarly raising to his feet. Between his gentle yet grounding grip and you suddenly looking up to meet his gaze, your mouth suddenly went dry. Your head scrambled to simply agree to his request, when he seemingly came to realise what had happened. He chuckled to alleviate what tension had suddenly mounted between the two of you, but anyone could objectively see that he had broken the proverbial touch barrier — a fact that you weren’t opposed to. “I invited you, you shouldn’t do anything. Just relax,” the young man urged, his facial expression remaining soft and pliable. With a grin you never were able to resist, the hand holding your wrist instead patted the back of your hand. Flustered from the sudden contact, you slowly sink back down into your seat with a shy smile, letting go of the dirtied plates and cutlery. As soon as you relinquished control, Jungkook stacked the porcelain bowls and metal cutlery before carrying them to the sink.

In the few minutes that were consumed with the young man scrubbing their shared dishes, there was a silence — a comforting one. It was the type of silence that could only be appreciated and held by those who already tasted shared companionship, one that could only be desirable by those who knew each other well enough to savor each other’s presence with no words spoken. Bringing your chilled wine glass to your lips, your fingers lightly jabbed your phone screen as you made quick work of scrolling through Instagram stories; not exactly absorbing anything, but just busying your mind and fingers with a familiar task. In between stories, an advert popped up. It was for a nondescript brand of mango ice cream, but the familiar jingle had both you and Jungkook start singing along at the same time without really thinking. However, after a few bars, the penny seemed to drop at the same time as the two of you met each other’s eyes grinning from ear to ear. Only a few years prior, you two were tormented by the same song for a whole summer of promotions, hearing it on any device in your vicinity at any given moment. In that moment in Jungkook’s apartment, it favored more closely to a long lost melody heard so many lifetimes ago.

“No way!” Jungkook exclaimed, boyish charm shining through. You threw your head back and laughed at the distant memory of heavy rye bags further ladened by its ever chirpy tune, how everyone within earshot of the commercial was willing to commit property damage in order to make it cease. “Oh my God, I feel myself losing my mind all over again,” you groaned, scrunching your hair into your fists as a demonstration of near insanity. Your date continually chuckled as he set the dripping porcelain aside and haphazardly dried his hands on his apron which he quickly untied and hung over the edge of the kitchen counter. “Please wait before you lose your mind, I have an idea,” he chortled, setting off in a slow jog towards the other end of his apartment. Naturally, you raised your body from the confines of his dining table chair and gravitated towards his couch which sat a short distance from the kitchen.

It wasn’t long until you heard the subtle thuds of his steps approach closer and he rounded the corner with two play-microphones in hand, also equipped with possibly the widest grin you had ever seen. “Jungkook, what the hell is this?” you directed, tossing your eyes over the plastic microphones while holding back another fit of laughter. “Karaoke, duh!” he answered giddily, as if there wasn’t a thing in the world that could possibly break his stride at that moment in time. In sheer disbelief, you watched him as he plucked a small remote from a rectangular coffee table at your feet and navigated to YouTube, still muttering the melody under his breath while offering a small jig to the melody his voice provided. You couldn’t quite believe that he was able to spin an activity that quickly on the spot, but you were far from complaining when you were that tickled. “Cover your eyes,” he demanded, threateningly pointing a plastic pink microphone in your direction. Without protest, you threw your hands up in surrender before placing them over your closed eyes. You felt a few sharp tufts of air hit the back of your hands, and you couldn’t help but sigh. “My eyes are closed, stop testing me.” The pause in his shuffling informed you that you were right in your assumption that he was, in fact, shadow boxing, before he could even confirm it from his own mouth. “I was just making sure…” he finally confessed, his voice adjacent to the whine of a child that had been scolded (though he remained equally as jovial as before). After some moments, a familiar instrumental blared through his speakers. It was unmistakable; My Ear’s Candy by Baek Jiyoung and Ok Taecyeon. An iconic anthem that only the foolish ones of the K-Pop industry would fail to mention.

“Introducing, the iconic duo back again for one night only!” Jungkook announced it with great theatrics. It was then that you dropped your hands to see him holding one of the microphones towards you (now, less threatening). Notably, the handheld portion of the mic now held an impish colorful glow. Shaking your head but grinning all the same, you wrapped your fingers delicately around the prop as you similarly stood to your feet and assumed your position. You didn’t exactly remember much of the choreography, not much more than the regular person, but following Jungkook’s lead ensured a more than satisfactory performance for the proverbial audience. Your voice was also not the cause of applause in normal everyday life; this performance was no different. However, with the way Jungkook put in extra effort to appear impressed, you could have been fooled. In any case, it was encouraging. You could almost hear the roaring of fans when the two of you replicated the song’s iconic move; your back pressed flush against his chest, his grip firm on your waist as the two of you moved your hips together, even going as far as holding the microphone up to his mouth when it was his turn to replicate his lines. Every time the two of you shared skinship, you two were unabashedly shy, Jungkook’s ears dusted a clear shade of pink and your face growing warm under your foundation. Still, you two were clearly committed to a stellar performance and nothing less. Judging from the imaginary crowd’s reaction, you two did just that.

“You really killed that, I think you should be an idol,” Jungkook spoke pointedly as he sank down on the couch behind you. While he was only slightly breathless, you were contrarily a few short steps away from wheezing. You plopped your breathless figure down beside him, taking a long minute to simply catch your breath before you spoke. “You see how long it’s taking me to recover? I don’t think so,” you responded with a grimace as if to be appalled by your own actions. He simply shrugged as he navigated to the search bar to look for another song. “That can easily be worked on.” At his words, you simply blinked and regarded him with a deadpan expression. You simply couldn’t resist the temptation. “You want me to work on… my stamina?” you drawled slowly. He finally broke his attention from the TV to furrow his eyebrows and turn to you, almost bewildered at how slowly you were speaking as if to not understand the point you were trying to make, but you could visibly see when the penny dropped in his brain. The small smile playing on his lips dropped almost instantaneously and the heat rose in his face like he was a boiling kettle. “I didn’t mean it like that- I just meant you could work out- Please don’t do this to me,” he whined pathetically as his hands shot up to cover his face in sheer humiliation. You, on the other hand, were just short of crying from laughter.

Then ensued the legendary concert performed by the two of you in the most confused discography known to man. You were serenaded to Paul Kim and Charlie Puth, you performed SZA and some of Jungkook’s solo work, the two of you did your best rendition of Megan Thee Stallion’s most popular songs along with Super Junior’s. By the end of it all, you weren’t even sure what the target audience would be and if the hypothetical arena would still have attendees by the second song. The skinship never ceased; him taking his hand into yours when singing a particularly heartfelt lyric, you pulling him up to dance with you while you gave your all in front of the TV. Despite everything you shared over the course of the evening, you two never failed to show signs of timidity after every touch. It was uncharted territory, understandably, and the two of you were doing your level best to navigate it to the best of your ability. You’d like to think you were doing an okay job.

As the evening grew around you, so did the comfortability. It had ended in you sitting on the couch. legs crossed, and a Jungkook laying his head on your thigh, lazily singing along to a long forgotten ballad you could not recall the name of. Jungkook had been putting in some level of effort into his dancing and singing all evening, but with that particular song it was not unlike an actual performance. You were well and truly serenaded, if it could not be shown by how shy you were of meeting his gaze. You simply followed the lyrics on the screen while swaying slightly to the guitar’s chords. Jungkook, on the other hand, remained staring straight up at you. He was admiring every single little detail about you, the ones you took in every day and the others you usually forgot about. It was so easy to do, given that you weren’t looking at him. He was truly smitten. “You… you look so pretty,” he suddenly spoke in the middle of verses. His words quickly snapped your concentration in half, you slowly moving down to meet his gaze. There he was; eyes half lidded, microphone still posed at his chin, cheeks flooded with rouge yet eyes steadily on yours. You gulped, trying to find words to say, but he quickly cut you off. “I’ve had a really nice night and I want to do this again before we start recording again,” He murmured. “I’m not sure how we can make it work, but… I just needed you to know and I hope you feel the same way.”

You were rendered speechless, unable to communicate all the racing thoughts through your head. However, you understood that sitting there with unspoken words wasn’t fair for Jungkook who had spilled his guts to you. “I, uh…” you began, gulping down to lubricate your suddenly dry throat. “I really like you- like this, and I’d love to do it again,” you spoke lowly, face growing warm once again at the Freudian slip from your lips. Of course you liked him, but it was much too early to let him know — wasn’t it? You eyed briefly flicked up to the TV that still incessantly displayed words, and a small smile spread across your lips. “You know, the fans are gonna cancel us over this,” you giggled softly. After all, the two of you had failed to exit stage left prior to this vulnerable exchange; you were pouring your hearts out to each other with no regard for the poor ‘fans’ in attendance. However, Jungkook was too preoccupied by your previous confession, holding onto your mistake in speech a little longer than you would’ve liked.

“I like you too.” His voice was barely above a whisper, thoughtful and quiet. You fell speechless once again as his tattooed hand raised to cup your cheek. “If we’re gonna get canceled, let’s give them something to cancel us for,” his voice mumbled. Stroking his thumb over your cheek, he leaned slightly upwards while pulling you down. Your lips met slowly, passionately and unhurried. Your heart leapt in your chest, heat raising in your ears as your hand moved to rake through his hair. It was the simplest kiss you had ever shared with another person, a prolonged peck, but it held all the weight of a heated makeout. It wasn’t necessary; it was an unspoken statement of your feelings towards one another. There was no amount of heavy petting or breathless kisses required to communicate it. You broke it soon enough, but not without leaning down quickly to steal another peck from his lips without his immediate knowledge. You leaned back against the backrest of the couch with the widest smile on your mouth, yet your hand remained in his hair, idly drawing shapes into his scalp with the tip of your fingernail. Jungkook’s hand dropped from your face as soon as you leaned away, but still kept his eyes trained on you. He had a grin on his face, but it was worlds apart from the other smiles he had offered you; this one carried unadulterated relief. You couldn’t be happier, and you were sure that he felt the same. He cleared his throat and fumbled around his body for the remote. “We should probably round this concert up before they throw more tomatoes,” he joked. That coaxed a small laugh from you.

“Is anyone still in the audience?”

When your thumbs hooked under the elastic of your lace, Jungkook’s words brought you to swift stillness. “Keep them on, they look so good,” he dictated. You could tell that his tone was intended to be a lot more even, but the edge of lust couldn’t be buffed away from his voice. With a swallow, your hands instead hung idly at your sides as you took a step towards the lying man. Taking the extended hand he had used to beckon you over as an aid, you wrapped your fingers around his palm as you extended your leg to kneel at his head, your crotch hovering over his lips. You blushed bashfully, but still couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. For a stretched few seconds, it seemed like he was still underneath you. You could feel his warm breath radiating on your core, but nothing movement wise. You dipped your head down out of curiosity and saw that his eyes were closed, simply breathing your essence in. Your heart couldn’t have thrummed harder underneath your ribs even if it tried. You were so taken by the image that you failed to notice one of the young men appear at your front until some strong digits raked themselves into your hair.

Your eyes looked up once again to meet Hoseok’s whose eyes could’ve easily fucked you senseless. He almost looked scary, intimidating, but in the most arousing way possible. It was almost as if you were the prey and he was the predator that had been sniffing out your scent. Almost on cue, Jungkook’s tongue licked long stripes along the inside of your thighs, mirroring the sensation that Taehyung had previously given to you before. A small whimper tumbled from your lips with pathetic need, but your eyes stayed fixed on Hoseok’s. He didn’t say a word, but his mischievous grin told you that he was pleased to see how wrecked you had become with no effort exerted whatsoever. “You okay?” He spoke, voice raspy. However, his tone lacked any genuine concern but rather teased your appearance. All you could manage was a nod, and with that he pulled your hair ever so slightly to the side to allow access to your neck, where his lips quickly to your supple skin. A soft moan left your throat at his roughness, appreciating him sucking bruises into your neck. He too moaned your pulse, as if to enjoy the taste of the small layer of sweat on your body. In tandem with Hoseok’s hickeys, you felt Jungkook’s finger hook around the crotch of your underwear and pull it aside, and the cool air hitting your sopping cunt was enough to make you shiver.

“Shit,” Jungkook groaned beneath you, just as Hoseok’s hand moved to knead your breast into his hand while nibbling on your pulse point. By pure instinct, your hand traveled down the expanse of his body and began palming his noticeable bulge. Hoseok hissed at the contact almost immediately, a welcome surprise to him. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned, low and drawed out. At the same time, Jungkook’s tongue flattened against your swollen clit and gave it a long, pressing swipe, forcing a whine from the pits of your throat. His tattooed arm raised to caress your other neglected nipple between his fingers, delicately pinching and rolling them between his pads while his tongue worked against your folds, gathering your essence on his taste buds. You were now completely unaware of your surroundings — your focus was solely set on the two men enjoying their share of wrecking you for life.

Hoseok stepped back away from you in order to shed himself of his clothes, while you spent what remained of your composure to grip the armrest of the couch for support while Jungkook’s tongue guided itself around your tight entrance, ever weeping for penetration. Hoseok didn’t let his eyes leave you once; even the brief second of him pulling his t-shirt over his head, despite your eyes fluttering shut on multiple occasions with Jungkook pleasing your pussy, his eyes remained trained on you. Despite this, you still mustered up the sheer audacity to talk shit. “Are things getting too hot for you?” You mewled with a grin. The scattered chuckles from the side made you semi conscious of the other company still present, but you still continued to be wholly focused on the two men. Although you assumed Jungkook wasn’t aware of what was happening above him, a startling smack delivered to your ass cheek was enough of an indication that he didn’t appreciate your teasing towards his friend. It forced a gasp from your mouth, quickly hushing you. Hoseok cocked an eyebrow upwards just as he shed himself from his bottoms and walked towards you once again, a pair of boxers the only thing maintaining his decency. “I don’t know Y/N, you look so used without even being used yet,” he retorted, playfully sticking out his tongue. Unbeknownst to you, Namjoon had left the room to retrieve something, which hadn’t been made obvious to you until you heard a dull thud and the smell of nicotine filled your senses. You turned to the side to meet his hand subtly placing a box of condoms on the table, unopened and still glistening with its glossy clear wrapping, along with the silky smoke of his cigarette gently floating from between his middle and pointer finger. Just as your eyes dragged up to meet Namjoon’s, you felt his hand embrace the thin circumference of your throat, not quite squeezing but ensuring your gaze was fixed on his. His eyes were kind, inviting, but held a soft glimmer of something darker and hidden. “Be good, sweets,” his deep voice rumbled. You wanted to return his statement with a response, but it was in that moment that Jungkook’s pink muscle pushed its way into you, licking stripes against your walls, and thus only a moan could be dragged out of you. With a simple kiss on the cheek, he let go of you and retreated to his previous spot on the couch.

Even though your head was still reeling from your brief interaction, a curled pointer finger tucked under your chin was enough to ground your ever wandering subconscious. “Want me to put a condom on?” Hoseok questioned. His tone of voice was clearer and sharp, evidence to you that it was a serious question that required clarification. You shook your head quickly, biting back a whine threatening itself of making itself known. Jungkook’s tongue at this point had left its job of massaging your inner walls, making you whimper from the loss. As if acutely aware of what was going on above him, Jungkook’s hands pressed themselves down on your lower back to prompt you to lean over the arm rest, now eye to eye with Hoseok’s crotch. The new angle meant that your clit, ever throbbing and beating for attention, came into direct contact with his hot mouth. With a renewed grip on your thighs, he wrapped his lips around your swollen bud and sucked, forcing out your loudest whine yet. Jungkook seemed pleased with the result, judging from his tightened grip on your flesh and his hum of satisfaction. Meanwhile, Hoseok’s fingers in your hair seemed to serve as a gentle reminder that he too needed some attention. Your eyes spied his bulge, twitching and standing to attention through the fabric. Suddenly, you couldn’t think of anything else in the world that you would rather do.

Your lips puckered slightly and peppered kisses all over his length through his undergarments, causing a low, drawed out fuck from the elder. A smile displayed itself on your mouth with satisfaction. Even without his verbal confirmation, his dick seemed to react to every single press of your lips against his clothed girth. As much as you loved to tease, you knew he didn’t deserve that. Wrapping your manicured fingers around the waistband of his boxers, you pulled them down his thighs and onto his feet, where he accordingly stepped out of them. His cock immediately sprang out of place; in tandem, Hoseok released a soft sigh of relief. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself from marveling at how pretty his cock was — you definitely didn’t say that about a lot of cocks. “So pretty," you mumbled, pleased. Underneath, Jungkook’s mouth was working so well that you were pretty sure his jaw should’ve burned by now with effort. He was moaning, a lot, against your core, sending vibrations straight to your nerves. Your moans were shaky and you could tell your orgasm was in the near future. Wrapping your fingers around the base of his girth, you laid your tongue flat against the underside of his length, dragging a low moan from Hoseok. You did that a few times, spreading your saliva all over him, until your fist was able to glide over his meat with ease when jerking him off. His grip tightened in the back of your head and when you glanced up, the sight sent a fresh pang of arousal straight to your cunt.

His eyes were focused on your hand, how small it paled in comparison to his thick cock, but yet his heavy lids meant that you were his demise. His bottom lip was tucked into his mouth in sheer concentration. However, as soon as you glanced up, his eyes shifted upwards to instead look into your glassy eyes. On cue, Jungkook began to sloppily kiss your bud, alternating between sucking and licking hands stripes into it. His hands, having traveled from your thighs to your ass gripped the flesh in his rough palms, spreading your cheeks apart. You weren’t aware of the other men’s positions at that moment in time, but it was made immediately obvious where Jimin and Yoongi were with what happened next. “Oh shit,” Jimin murmured from behind you. Yoongi, on the other hand, seemed to chuckle.

If you had to guess, they had discovered your surprise. Remember that from earlier?

Tucked between your ass cheeks, exposed by Jungkook, was a sparkling gem that gleamed under the warm lights of the suite. A butt plug. You couldn’t help but giggle a little through the repeated moans helplessly tumbling from your lips. Your lips wrapped around the head of Hoseok’s cock, tasting the precum which had begun to pearl on his tip. You feel the younger one beneath you move his hand to your hip just as a cooler hand pressed itself into your ass, adequately spreading you. “Your pretty pussy’s just beggin’ to swallow something, huh?” Yoongi grumbled. You hummed in agreement around Hoseok, sinking down more to take more of him in your mouth, tongue pressed diligently against the underside of his cock. Your orgasm was already building steadily, your eye contact with Hoseok already wavering, but Yoongi’s finger circling your entrance drew yet another whine from you. Jungkook continued to suckle on your clit earnestly, the sound lewd and ringing in your ears. Along with you sinking even further on his girth, Yoongi’s finger pushed its way inside you. In perfect harmony, Yoongi’s sigh, your cry and Hoseok’s grunt came together at the same time.

“She’s milking the fuck out of your finger,” Jimin laughed. You could hear the sound of cloth shuffling and hitting the floor, but you were so preoccupied you didn’t care to find out who was undressing. “I can barely move my finger, she’s gripping me so tight,” Yoongi spoke with a click of his tongue, finger dragging out slowly to emphasise his point. Your head bobbed diligently, sucking in Hoseok’s length at a steady pace, all the while trying to hold onto what was left of your sanity that the men were trying so desperately to take away. At that point, your hips started to rock, simultaneously trying to fuck yourself on Yoongi’s finger and Jungkook’s mouth. “Impatient little thing,” you heard Taehyung coo, behind you but a mere temporary spectator like Jimin. Yoongi too moved his finger in line with your rhythmic rocks, pulling his finger away until just his tip laid nestled between your weeping walls, then pushing into you when you rocked backwards, knuckle deep. Hoseok caught on quickly and thrusted his hips gently, shallowly fucking himself into your mouth. It wasn’t enough to make you gag, but to kiss the back of your throat with his tip every time. His moans were shameless now, matching your muffled ones.

Your sounds were gradually becoming more whiny, more drawn out, drool pooling around Hoseok’s girth as your rhythm grew sloppy. You attempted to keep all semblance of sanity as you barreled closer and closer to your climax. It was clear that you were trying desperately hard to hold yourself, but you seemed to forget that all eyes were drinking up your every move and twitch. “Y/N, you can’t be close already,” you heard Taehyung say incredulously. If not for the fact that your mouth and mind was so preoccupied, you would’ve loved to give a snarky reply to him to say yes, it is entirely plausible for you to cum at any second but the only thing you could manage was a muffled whimper. Hoseok suddenly withdrew from your mouth with a wet pop of your lips to move his fist fast along his cock, the wet, slick sounds of his pre-cum and your saliva coating him with ease sending you into a dizzy spiral. “I wanna hear how pretty you sound when you cum,” Hoseok purred, leaning down briefly to peck your spit stained lips. Just then, Yoongi slipped a second digit between your folds and your whole body quivered, the stretch his fingers offering being mind-numbingly delicious. He didn’t waste time in pumping his fingers — he knew you could take it — and creating lewd, slick sounds with your cunt that was practically dripping. Jungkook beneath you had let his tongue simply lay flat and push hard against your clit, allowing you to chase your orgasm as you pleased. Your hips were now bucking against Jungkook’s face with no abandon, embarrassingly close. “‘M gonna…” you whimpered pathetically. It was towards all the men in the room, but Hoseok was the one consuming you entirely. His finger stroked over the warm plump of your cheek soothingly. “Make a mess for us, be a good girl. Look at you taking hyung and Jungkook so well,” his voice cooed. Hoseok’s voice coaxing you closer to the edge, Jungkook’s mouth massaging your folds and Yoongi’s fingers stretching you out so thoroughly was more than enough for the tension to snap.

Your orgasm came crashing through you, forcing a cry from the pits of your throat. You clamped down on Yoongi, hard, while your hips stilled on Jungkook’s mouth. However, he wasn’t so keen to let you go so easily. His hands, strong and steady, forced your hips back and forth on his tongue, vibrations radiating through your pussy from his groans. Yoongi too moved his fingers in line with the way Jungkook moved your whole body. They rode your orgasm out better than you could’ve imagined doing yourself. A string of curses fell from your lips effortlessly as your body shook, coming down from your previous high. You had almost drooled from the sheer force behind your cum.

As your eyes refocused and took in the surroundings, Jungkook emerged from beneath you, pushing your thigh ever so slightly to prompt you to raise your leg so he could get to his feet. His eyes were unfocused, lips swollen, your slick coating his chin. It was almost enough to make you cum then and there. Yoongi too withdrew his fingers from your hole, coaxing a gasp from your lungs at the loss. One finger made its way to his lips, where he placed it on his tongue and closed his lips around the singular digit as he made his way in front of you. He was still fully clothed, much to your dismay. Hoseok fell back a few steps, giving his wet cock slow, languid strokes as he witnessed the scene before him. Without a single word, Yoongi withdrew his one finger and posed both before your mouth; one slick with your essence and the other wet with his saliva and whatever remained of you. You took his venous fingers in your mouth with a soft hum, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze. It was carefully placed, unreadable. It was intimidating while simultaneously arousing. A throb thrummed through your clit with a fresh pang of want, despite you still reeling from your most recent orgasm. “Such a good fucking slut,” he groaned lowly. The unexpected word of degradation was enough to pull a soft whine from you, but you could feel yourself wetten instantly.

Behind you, suddenly, you could feel a hand press against your back. Though the hand was warm, it was cooler than the others you had felt on your flesh, so you knew this was someone who was yet to play with you. Detaching yourself from Yoongi, you turned your head back and your heart dropped to your ass. There Namjoon was, bare, drinking up the sight of you from behind. Then, you felt his tip nudging at your entrance. The fact that your underwear was still haphazardly pushed to the side was not lost on you. The smoothness of the warmth, where it usually offered some level of natural rigidity, informed you that he was sheathed with a condom. You were glad that he took the initiative to make the responsible decision — you were unsure if your mind in its current state would come to the same conclusion. You toss your eyes across the room to meet Seokjin. While the rest of the group were either partially clothed or naked, Seokjin was still completely covered, down to the birthday sash. If it was worth noting, his crown had long been discarded on the coffee table amongst the sea of empty alcohol bottles. His eyes bore holes into yours, dark and sinister. Inviting was not the word for his brown orbs which drank you in from across the room, but rather compelling.

“She’s so wet,” Namjoon rasped lowly from behind you. His cock moped up a tear of your wetness running down your thigh, all the way up to your pleading cunt. It was there that his bulbous tip slapped against your wet folds a few times, making you whine and roll your hips back, in the pathetic hope that his dick would somehow divinely slip into your needy hole. “How selfish that you want his dick so much even though you just came?” You heard Yoongi speak, tone lazy and unamused at your misconduct. Even if you had the words to retort against him, Namjoon’s head pushing his way inside you was enough to shut you up instantly. The stretch he offered your pussy was nothing short of incredible — the need radiating through you was so intense you may as well have not came in the first place at all. Namjoon’s warm hand caressed your spine as he worked his girth into you slowly, just as Jimin and Jungkook appeared before you. “You can help us out, can’t you Y/N?” Jimin purred, voice honey-sweet, the two languidly stroking themselves in front of you. Maybe you were certifiably cock drunk, but you couldn’t have thought of better things to put in front of you at that moment in time. As if it were second nature, you leaned in closer to leave a small, delicate peck on the very tips of their members. Jungkook shivered instantaneously, but quickly recovered, if his hand traveling to your jaw to stroke over your cheek informed you of such.

By the time Namjoon finally bottomed out, you were adequately full and the breath had been knocked out of your lungs. His hands, ever soothing, rounded the curve of your ribs to cup your breast in your hand, while he leaned over until his chest was plush against your rear. His chin subtly rested on your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek. “You remember the safe word?” He mumbled, voice low. You were positively hypnotised by how full you felt, your walls fleeting to accommodate his pulsating length. Words lost you, a long and stretched beat of silence as your mind fumbled for the word. “S-Strawberries,” you choked out after what seemed to be an eternity. You were nothing short of ready and willing for all of them, no matter how spent you’d end up being. You heard Namjoon hum lowly in satisfaction. His hand crept its way from your breast to cradle your neck, holding it in a secure grip but not squeezing to restrict your breathing. In doing so, he carefully guided your head to face Jimin’s cock, starting to leak precum from the sight before him. You could hear the sigh he heaved become shaky. Obeying the elder’s unspoken instruction, you let your jaw fall slack and allowed him to push his hips forward, his dick hot and heavy on your tongue.

Satisfied, Namjoon rose from your body and straightened up, gripping your ass in his hand. His hips began to drag, painfully slow, as if you allow your cunt time to memorise his every vein, ridge and bump. Your whimper was stifled, what with Jimin filling your mouth so nicely. His own mouth was flooded with raspy moans as your lips wrapped tightly around his cock while you sucked earnestly. The way Namjoon teased you (more realistically, being a gentleman and allowing you to grow accustomed to his size) with the way his hips moved like molasses; sticky, slow moving and hard to remove from your memory any time soon. Busying yourself in order to get your mind off how dizzy you felt being stretched on Namjoon’s dick, your hand raised up to wrap around Jungkook’s length, stroking ever so steadily. You feel his hand wrap around your wrist, prompting you to stop jerking him, until you hear him spit. The saliva falls squarely on his hard dick, the viscosity clinging onto his flesh as it crawled over his girth. Still allowing Jimin to rock his hips into your mouth, your fingers caught the newly found lube between your fingertips and your palm glided smoother along his cock, delightfully twitching under your grip. After what seemed like an eternity, Namjoon’s thrusts grew a little faster as your cunt began to suck him in more, your walls speaking the words your throat could not produce. Jimin’s hips began to snap sharper into you, eventually prodding into your throat. You gagged, a little taken aback by the suddenness of it all. However, you didn’t take long to recover — soon, you were relaxing your throat to swallow his member deeper. You could feel Jungkook grip the back of your hair to force you to do the one thing you’d been avoiding the most, which was meeting their eyes. Both of them were flushed, either from alcohol, arousal or a mean mixture of both. Jimin’s mouth fell slightly ajar, broken moans falling from his lips, whilst Jungkook put in a bit more effort into seeming a little more put together than his counterpart, deep hums settling in his chest with every flick of your wrist on his heavy dick.

Namjoon’s moans brewed low in his chest as his hips met with yours at a controlled speed, fucking your walls with deep strokes you could almost feel in your chest. The mewls you offered were muffled and silent, your eyes doing all the communicating. Drool leaked from your mouth to Jimin’s girth, slowly dripping onto the armrest underneath you. “You’re doing such a good job,” you heard Hoseok coo, unsure of where he was. “I’m sure she can handle more than that,” Yoongi spoke, appearing alongside Jimin, similarly naked. He sounded unimpressed, still, and whatever he was doing was working because you wanted nothing more than to make him proud. Almost like a signal, Namjoon’s hips immediately started snapping into yours quicker, slamming into the flesh of your ass repeatedly. At the same time, Yoongi’s hand clasped with Jungkook’s at the back of your head and pushed you further into Jimin’s crotch until your nose was plush against his pelvis. Whatever grunts you had to offer were lost to mere vibrations on Jimin’s cock, causing his thighs to quiver and his eyes to roll to the back of his head, head rocking back at the sensation of your throat milking him so well. “Look at that,” you heard Taehyung coo from behind, a hand coming down on your ass in a resounding smack. You were so occupied that you found it easy to lose sight of the men around you if they didn’t have direct contact with you, making you feel further dizzy — you were completely at their mercy and they loved it.

When you eventually lose enough breath in your lungs, you raise teary eyes to Yoongi, who seemed so preoccupied by the sight of you getting fucked in more ways than one that you were unsure if he would understand or even acknowledge what you were trying to communicate. Thankfully, he wasn’t too distracted so as to completely neglect you; Jungkook and Yoongi’s hands drop simultaneously, allowing you to drag yourself off of Jimin’s length with the most lewd wet dislodge you’d ever heard in your life. As you gulped down air, a string of saliva delicately joining from Jimin’s slickened cock to your swollen lips, a string of curses in the form of whimpers breathlessly with the way Namjoon’s dick was stroking your walls with ease. Whatever little pain or discomfort that laid in wait from the stretch no longer existed; he was thoroughly fucking you open in a way that you didn’t think was possible. As much as you’d love to bury your face in a cushion and endure the leader’s punishing pace a little longer, your greed meant that you also wanted Jungkook buried down the confines of your throat. Your hand, still stroking him, stilled at the base of his cock while your mouth sunk down on him. His precum, beginning to leak, welcomed a new flavor profile to your taste buds. Your head immediately stilled once most of his cock was in your mouth, mouth falling ajar. It was his signal to take your mouth as he required, and luckily he took the hint. Tucking his bottom lip into his mouth in concentration, he took a few seconds to monitor the way Namjoon pounded into you, down to his bruising grip on your hip, the lewd wet drag of his cock in your sopping cunt and the repetitive skin slapping of his hips meeting your ass over and over. With this, he aligned the movement of his hips with Namjoon’s, so whenever he thrusted forward and your body rocked forward in return, his hips thrust into your throat to meet, ensuring his length was adequately buried in your throat.

It all teetered on the edge of downright disgusting — in some people’s books it was way past that point. You felt Namjoon’s chest press against your back once again, pace slowing. All this while, you thought Namjoon was relatively quiet in bed. However, with his mouth now at your ear biting and sucking deep bruises into your shoulder, you could hear his low, guttural moans of your name; they went straight to your core. Just as the familiar tightness of your core began to wound, it was gone just as quickly as it appeared; Namjoon suddenly rose up straight and pulled himself out of you. A whine bubbled in your throat despite Jungkook’s length, but soon you were filled up once again. Though similarly covered in latex, you could feel that the path of the cock buried inside you was different. Then, a small laugh informed you that Taehyung had taken Namjoon’s place behind you. Sure enough, Namjoon appeared before you with Jimin and Jungkook both stepping back, Yoongi ever-patiently stroking himself. Taehyung, much to your surprise, started off slow, opting for deep, slow strokes. He was admiring the way in which your pussy gripped him with each stroke, still comfortably tight despite Namjoon’s feral fucking. His hand pressed into your lower back, prompting you to arch it a little more so as to perfect the angle at which he was fucking you.

“Let me take a look at this little gem,” Taehyung panted. You suddenly feel his fingertips skim around the metal rim of the butt plug that lay snugly inside you, forcing you to take a deep breath. “You should taste the mess you left on me sweets,” You heard Namjoon cooed above you. You were so torn between who to pay your attention to, but with Namjoon’s eyes being so intensely trained on yours you had no choice to obey. Your tongue darted out and lay heavily on his slick girth, allowing the taste of your essence to leak onto your muscle. It wasn’t a foreign taste to you by any means, but it tasted particularly addictive when clung onto Namjoon’s flesh. His moan was guttural, so deep it vibrated in your chest. Meanwhile, Taehyung’s thrusts remained steady, pulling out to where the head of his cock laid throbbing within your walls and pushing in until his pelvis was against your ass. He was fucking you deep and thoroughly; you had no place to hide if you wanted to scurry away. His moans feel in the way of soft hums under his breath, sometimes just mere sounds and others curses. His fingers curled around the flat handle of the butt plug and pulled it with care, watching your puckered hole desperately cling onto its flared base. A whimper escaped you before you could stop it, but you diligently continued to lave your tongue over Namjoon with utmost efficiency. “Greedy hole’s just begging for some attention,” Hoseok growled lowly. He sounded so dark, so did the other members, chords clouded with lust and want like thick syrup.

A cry escaped you once the plug was freed from your tight hole, feeling the warm air of the room immediately take its place with the plug’s absence. You heard shuffling, somehow knowing the other men in the room bar the ones in front of you were moving to see how gaped your hole was on display. “You’re so stretched,” Taehyung moaned, the pad of his finger circling the tight muscle. Just as you wrapped your fingers around Namjoon’s cock, now ‘clean’, and stroked him with a firm grip so as to take Yoongi’s head into your used mouth, you suddenly felt Taehyung’s thumb intrude into your other hole. You were so stuffed it was overwhelming. A surprisingly quiet whimper ripped from your throat at the sensation. “Taehyung,” you’d whined, but your mouth and throat was adequately occupied by Yoongi, so your muffled sounds were only heard by the two men in front of you who offered you smirks at your compromised state. With his thumb firmly seated within the walls of your other hole, Taehyung’s hips began to drive themselves into you; an unforgiving pace that rivalled that of Namjoon’s. The sound of skin slapping that echoed across the penthouse suite was insanely lewd. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to express how pleasure was wrecking your whole body. If it wasn’t good bad enough, a member’s fingers (You could tell it wasn’t Taehyung, maybe Jimin? You weren’t sure if you cared) started to make quick work with your swollen, neglected clit. Almost as if he could sense your concentration would fail due to the newly added stimulation, Yoongi’s hand traveled to the back of your head and deeply stroked into your mouth, making sure his dick invaded the back of your throat with each push forward and almost completely fell from your lips with each pull back. You couldn’t even find sounds, let alone words to uphold what you were going through. It was all too much in the best way possible. Your hand on Namjoon never ceased, diligently massaging his girth.

“You’re close aren’t you?” Jimin rasped, voice carrying a glint of joviality at the scene carrying out before his very eyes. You audibly gagged in response to his question. He was right; that familiar knot was being wound right within the deepest part of your core, your thighs quaked, your muffled cries sounded more desperate, Taehyung’s cock drilling into you became slicker, yet sucked him in. “I can feel it, her pussy’s squeezin’ me,” he grunted. Despite this, his pace never relented. Yoongi, wanting to see you fall apart again, pulled his cock out of your mouth with a satisfied deep moan. The hand on your head moved to your cheek, stroking your warm flesh. “Come on doll, cum for us,” Namjoon encouraged, voice sweet yet wavering due to your continued stimulation on his slickened cock. “Already cumming twice?” Yoongi said, his voice annoyingly level. “We’ve barely touched her.”

The orgasm ripped through your body, oddly coaxed on by Yoongi’s shaming words. A silent scream left your mouth, but the way your entire body shook was more than enough of an indicator that you had reached your peak. Taehyung’s pace slowed and Jimin’s (?) fingers mirrored Taehyung’s riding you through your orgasm. Unexpectedly, a groan from above snapped you back into reality. Your hand still jerked Namjoon off, but your pace had stagnated with your quaking; apparently, seeing white was enough to similarly push Namjoon over the edge. He took over from you, his fist gliding along his length which twitched incessantly in his grip. “I’m gonna- fuck,” His voice uttered, cracking with the intensity of his incoming high. You, though partially spent and still being fucked through your orgasm, leaned towards the leader and let your aching jaw fall agape, letting his head rest against your bottom lip. “Good girl,” Yoongi said. His tone was a little more light, and the rare praise from the man sent a fresh wave of arousal through you despite you recovering. With a deep, drawn out groan which signified the final crack in his sanity, thick ropes of white suddenly stretched across your tongue, partially catching your top lip. You eyes flicked up, curious. His head was thrown back. veins prominent on his neck. sweat beads adorned across his chest. The sight almost had you ready to go again immediately, so much so that the sensation of Taehyung pulling out of you slowly and the mystery fingers withdrawing from you was a torturous form of teasing to you. Your tongue naturally darted upwards to swipe along your top lip and let his essence linger on your muscle, heavy, salty and thick. Without requiring any coaxing, your throat worked to swallow his load dutifully with a deep gulp. Your tongue then darted out to lay on just the tip of his dick, still twitching, to wrap your lips around and suck whatever he had left to offer you. The moan you drew out of him was shaky with overstimulation, his rough hand quick to drag you off his length by the hair. It drew a small giggle from you despite yourself.

There weren’t many people who could string the words together to explain what you went through that faithful night; only you could live to tell it. The night settled deeper and deeper, the bite of the cool air becoming sharper. Each member, with the exception of Seokjin, used you thoroughly, in their own preferred way. Hoseok had you bouncing on his cock while gripping your ass, your head over the back of the couch and his shoulder while your mouth busied itself with choking on Taehyung. Jungkook was similar but in reverse; grip brutal on your hip as his hips drove up into you, other had snaked around to toy with your clit while Jimin tortured your peaked nipples. Yoongi’s strong hands held you upright as he pounded into you from behind, standing upright and one foot pointed poised on top of the couch. Jimin laid you flat on your stomach, the weight of his body pinning you down while his hips set a punishing pace. You’d fallen into around 4 to 5 orgasms, depending on who you asked. Your poor, gaping ass had been spat on, fondled and fingered and you earnestly wondered how none of them succumbed to temptation and push themselves into you — however, you were thankful; if you weren’t on the edge of passing out then, you would’ve definitely blacked out if you were filled in that way. They filled you up in multiple ways; your mouth, your body, even the sheer warmth of their cum filling the condom as the tension snapped deep within your cunt was satisfactory, though you would much prefer the other option. Your words gradually lost sense and clarity; you were certifiably cum drunk. However, they always took care to ensure that you could still enunciate the safe word if required.

Now, the night had long stretched. All six men were spent, cocks either half-hard or flaccid but all glistening from your essence or saliva. They were all laid across the long sofa, bodies subdued from effort yet still finding whatever energy they had left to spend on sparking fresh cigarettes or dragging their cascaded boxers over their legs to maintain whatever decency they had left after utterly disgracing you and your body. You were so, so fucked out, a blissful mess who blinked every so often when your body decided to play catch up, but you weren’t done. Not when the birthday boy hadn’t even gotten his share of his birthday cake yet.

With one strong hand poised by your head to balance himself and the other guiding his rock hard shaft towards your entrance, your hips weakly bucked towards him despite how limp your body felt. Your body threatened slumber, yet your mind demanded its full attention. Thankfully, Seokjin didn’t take much time to tease. His cock sank in with little effort, your walls happily fluttering to accommodate him. All you could muster was a whimper, making some sort of lewd marriage with his deep groan. Being the birthday boy, you naturally damned all consequences and gifted him the privilege in fucking you raw. Despite being taken in most sexual positions known to man that night, you were practically untouched; your cunt didn’t hold a single drop of deposited cum. However, your body could not lie to you — your insides throbbed with protest from use, yet the idea of quitting now sounded absurd, especially when his cock settled so nicely inside you. His hips remained stagnant for a long few seconds, simply admiring the way your pussy was stretched around the base of his cock, so willing to swallow him whole. Then, the purlicue of his venous hands hooked themselves under your knees and pushed them forwards, effectively folding you in half and trapping you. Ever multi-tasking, he did this in tandem with his cock pumping in and out of you steadily.

“You feel so good,” his voice spoke, but already began to fray at the edges. His hips rolled into yours with practised precision, as if watching his other six members have their way with you informed him on the best way to wreck you. His thrusts were slow, almost painfully so, yet so deep they punched the air out of your lungs with each stroke. You could no longer form intelligible words or moans — you only had the capacity for whimpers and garbled vocabulary that might’ve made sense on another part of earth. One of your hands wrapped around his forearm which held your thighs pinned against your chest, while the other dragged down his back, nails running over his ever flexing muscles. Your eyes remained pinned to the crude imagery of Seokjin’s shaft fucking you senseless, plunging into your wetness over and over — but suddenly, his forehead pressed against your own, forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Stay with me baby, I know you’re tired,” his voice soothed, shaky with effort but still more grounding than anything else around you. Though words failed you, you slightly nodded your head yes in response. His groans mirrored your own desperate sounds of pleasure.

t wasn’t immediately obvious, maybe because of your compromised state of mind, but Jin was actively trying to make you cum — while it was something that you would normally take in your stride, there was something particularly frightening about having to cum again. It was when he adjusted the angle of his thrusts until you let out an all-too familiar mewl that you became aware of his antics. He had found that sweet, clingy spot within the confines of your walls that had been repeatedly abused all evening. “P-please, I really can’t,” you whined, just about the most clear cut thing you had spoken in a long while. The nails on his back became desperate, digging deep crescent moons into his damp, warm skin. Somehow, that dragged a deep groan from him. “You can do it darling, can’t you? For me?” he whispered, sickly sweet. His voice never stopped being so kind, so caring, so encouraging. His body leaned down further against your body and pressed the sweetest of kisses against your lips. It was unlike the one that you two shared earlier in the evening; the movement of his lips was the true epitome of patience and longing, comfort all in one move. Your body protested, the throb of your cunt almost painful, and yet you still found the will to do what Jin needed from you. Sitting up a little straighter, one of the hands pinning your legs down moved to your swollen, angry bundle of nerves. He pressed the pads of his fingers down on it and rubbed in hard, deep circles to make you see stars. His thrusts quickened slightly but never lost its deepness. His movements attested to a man who was interested in not much else behind making your toes curl, and it was intimidating to say the least.

The only thing that fell from the elder’s lips was your name and soft moans, up until your head began to shake in disagreement. You were too far gone to verbalise that the tension building up to snap in your core was too much, too soon, and you truly didn’t believe you could do it. Then, the encouragement flooded in. “Don’t make me disappointed baby, I know you have another one in you,” he uttered. His fingers moved even faster on your clit, causing your legs to shake with effort. Tears prickled your eyes in an unspoken threat to spill over. There was nothing you could do within your own strength — you were barrelling towards your orgasm with no sign of stopping. Your breath was harsh, shallow and dragged, eyes heavy and your grip on reality quickly slipping, yet Seokjin did not dare to relent for even a brief breath of a second. His hips and fingers punished your senses in a way no word or violent strike ever could.

When your orgasm ripped through you, you almost swore you passed out. The scream that ripped from your throat was sure to ordinarily raise concern with no context, but it was pure, raw, unfiltered pleasure pulsing through your veins. Tears that shivered on your waterline finally spilled over and trailed into your messed hair. You saw white as you squeezed around the man’s girth, all your effort going towards grounding yourself. While his thrusts slowed and the circling of your clit lessened in intensity, you could tell that he too was trying to fend off his orgasm. His breath too struggled to stabilise and yet his priority remained getting you off. Despite this, you felt his lips meld with your temple, gently kissing the path of your tears away and enjoying the salt on his tongue.

It was when your shudders ceased (your body never stopped quaking, really — they just weren’t as intense) that Seokjin’s eyes glinted in a way you hadn’t previously regarded. It was then that you realised just how much he was holding back only specifically to force another orgasm out of you, to toy with you to the point of ruin. His waning patience was suddenly so evident. With a small huff of breath, you felt him shift above you, angling his hips differently. “Please forgive me in advance, baby,” his voice murmured darkly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, briefly unfocused, but you soon knew exactly what he was apologising for.

With newly found stamina and strength, Seokjin’s hips snapped into yours faster than before. Each thrust knocked the breath out of your lungs, deep and fast. The new angle meant the head of his cock used your sweet spot thoroughly; not even world renowned scholars could apply words to the sounds falling from your mouth. Jin’s previously light and airy moans almost fell completely silent and stoic, only the occasional grunt audible. His large hand found purchase on your breast, slickened with new sweat and dried streaks of cum from earlier activities. “Ji-Jiiiiin,” you pathetically whined, tears freely rolling into your hair. You were undeniably sobbing, yet it carried no negativity. Your body was far spent, used beyond any comprehensible level, and yet pleasure continually exploded behind your eyelids. Hey with Seokjin fucking you with the sole intention of making himself cum, your sick mind still found a way of revelling in it. The sound of skin slapping was awfully lewd, rhythmic, unrelenting and punishing, but your main concern was holding onto the edges of your consciousness that threatened to leave you bare. It hit that sweet spot of ebbing on too much, yet not quite enough to steal your wakeness.

“Fuck Y/N, you’re gripping me so tight,” he had muttered. His voice began to unravel, his thrusts growing sloppy as he neared his own orgasm. His carefully placed composure was slipping faster than he could manage to amend, yet he was still able to ground you. His muscular frame leaned over yours, hips stuttering yet maintaining its strokes, and raised a hand to stroke your cheek ever so gently. The contrast between his soft touch and his cock abusing your spot repeatedly was enough to make your head spin. Your sounds reduced themselves to whimpers and whines which may have closely resembled Seokjin’s name, prompting his comforting words. “I know baby, you’re so good for me,” he spoke shakily. “I hear you, I’m here.”

What seemed like mere words on the surface was seemingly the only reason you lived to tell the tale.

With a departing peck on the lips, his frame straightened back up again. It was then that the sweat pearling on his forehead and chest was evident. “Where do you want it sweetie? Use your words,” he cooed, his hand smoothing over your shaking thigh. Your brain scrambled to string words together, but after some struggle, you managed to simply point at your core that he was pumping into. “In-Inside,” you mumbled. The hum of pleasure he released in that moment was enough to send a fresh wave of heat through you; it was clear that he wasn’t exactly expecting you to want a creampie, but it was a pleasant surprise all the same. You, on the other hand, couldn’t think of anything else in the world that you wanted more than to be filled with his cum — a righteous award after such a good working night.

At that point, Seokjin let loose above you. As his resolve weakened, his bravado quickly came down. The previous fluidity of his hips became stuttered, sloppy and lacking its previous finesse. His occasional groans reduced themselves to drawn out moans and ragged breaths. His hand traveled everywhere — your breast, the curve of your torso, your quivering legs. He was desperate, almost as much as you were, but in your fucked out state you failed to appreciate his appearance. You especially couldn’t when all your focus was on not passing out from exertion and blinding pleasure. Finally, Jin leaned over you a final time to bury his face into the crook of your bruised, sweaty neck and moaned your name from the pit of his chest, voice slightly cracking. His hips slowed to shallow, slow strokes as his length throbbed incessantly within you, pouring white, hot ropes into your used cunt. The feeling was enough to make your shiver, your head rolling back against the plush of the couch beneath your bodies. His breath felt heavy on your neck as he peppered kisses along the curve, whispering your praises while he came down from his high. With a final, soft moan, you feel your body give into the temptation of falling under.

It was the streaming of light bathing your eyelids that woke you up first. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, squinting as they struggled to adjust to the sunlight shining unforgivingly into the room. You were surrounded by white bedsheets, soft and impossibly clean. Your eyebrows furrowed. You couldn’t recall much after Jin fucked you; subtle flashes of being cleaned up and dressed flash into your memory, but nothing concrete enough to explain how you were on the couch and suddenly in a bedroom foreign to you. You sat up in bed, taking in the suite before you. It was still an environment you failed to recognise, but you could guess might’ve been a room within the penthouse. Eyes still squinting and head beginning to protest with an impending headache, you subtly swang your legs over the edge of the bed in order to sit up properly. On the bedside table lay an array of items; your dress neatly folded, a light waft of fresh laundry coming from its direction, your purse, your phone, an untouched pack of painkillers, an unassuming bottle of water, heat patches, a bright box advertising plan B along with a folded piece of paper within an envelope. Raising your hand to idly scratch your stomach (clothed with an oversized shirt), your other moved to open the note. After a few blinks, the inked page came into focus.

“The boys thoroughly enjoyed their night, I do hope you too enjoyed yourself. We have washed your dress and your intimate toy was returned to your personal suite. Please help yourself to what we have provided, don’t hesitate to contact us again if you need further assistance.”

As you read the swirl of the agent’s signature, your face warmed upon remembering your butt plug. If not for the fact that you had shamelessly let 7 men have their way with you, you might’ve felt a little more ashamed than you truly do. Your eyes spied the envelope only to happen up a thick wad of fresh cash, clearly collected straight from the bank. You could only assume it was a generous tip, seeing as you had already collected full payment prior. A coy smile played on your face, fingers flicking through the bills. You had a sneaking suspicion that this wouldn’t be the last time BTS book your service.

You had gotten used to managing yourself after being through how brutal the escorting world could be after working under someone. They had no shame in stripping you of your remaining pennies if it meant lining their already protruding stomachs before yours that growled into dark hours. It was hard to start out independently, what with being stripped of the comfort and safety of an organisation of sorts, but it wasn’t long before your name grew roots among the elites. You had escorted for international basketball players, reality TV stars — you had even happened upon business moguls from time to time who were always equipped with a thick wad of cash besides the premium you already charge. Money was aflow and never in the far distance — that’s exactly how you like it.

It was one faithful day that an agent — foreign number, name unknown to your ear — had contacted you, asking for your services on behalf of their client. This was nothing new, as many of the public figures you had the pleasure of working with required some form of confidentiality in working out arrangements. However, even you thought this process was overkill. You had met up with this agent three separate times; a local, quaint café you frequented because of their delightful matcha lattes, a sculpture park in the middle of the city where the scent of the air was thick with freshly mowed grass, then finally a rented-out office space where the atmosphere still smelled faintly of paint. There was no shortage of disclaimers from said agent that his clients were relatively easy to please so long as your personality was at least a step or two over a lick of drying paint on dry wall — at the very least, you had that going for you. Then came the contracts. In your years of experience, you had come to be talented in the art of picking out bullshit quicker than most lawyers. Armed with coffee, your highlighter and your reading glasses, you took both contracts home with you to fully dissect.

You were given two contracts — both almost exactly identical in language, phrasing and clauses. As for the contents itself, there were no flaws with regards to possible holes to fall into or any loopholes that might work against you in the future. However, there was a distinct difference that even the agent had explained when he had slid both wads of paper across the grey table towards your manicured nails. One was non-sexual, one was. Now, you were no stranger to sexual clauses in your contracts nor did you shy away from signing a few in your seasoned career for the right price. While the non-sexual price was already paying handsomely in the high five figure range, the sexual contract was easily close to mid six-figures. You had attended parties of 20 for less, let alone a party of 7. Food was provided, transportation was provided and so was all 7 men’s STI testing results for the last six months. All follow up questions you could’ve possibly asked were answered carefully any with effort in simply reading the contract. How many times had they done this before?

Naturally, you met with the agent once again with the signed contract and your previous six months of STI testing documentation in tow.

BTS was a name you were vaguely familiar with between news stories, pop gossip and their music blasting through the speakers of your local store and radio stations. It wasn’t something you had paid much heed to, but you were acutely aware of just how famous they were. In the weeks leading up to the faithful night, you were privy to just how crazy the fandom were through the agent’s own words and videos on the internet.

It was all a little intimidating, really.

Two days prior, you checked into the very hotel the singers would soon arrive in. You made a very good impression of a tourist, if you do say so yourself. The agent had given you a junior suite, which suited you just fine with a fully stocked mini bar, room service and access to the spa included in your stay. You used it to its fullest potential, almost forgetting you’re there to work.

Alas, duty calls.

You staked out in the smoking area of the hotel the morning of, burying yourself behind a dusty book courtesy of the bookshelf in the lobby. You didn’t shy too far from the corny movie stereotypes, it seemed. The smoking area was located at the rear of the building, surrounded by a wooden barrier-like fence covered in climbing ivy, but the seat you had chosen allowed you to get a sliver of a view at the staff only entrance to the hotel, where you were sure the members would slip through. Just as you raised your mojito to your lips, letting the ice jut into your top lip and the minty alcohol slide down your throat as easily as your saliva, a low, familiar grumble of an engine signified a car pulling in close. The other hotel patrons barely batted an eyelid, still engaged in their conversations and showing off their cigar collections. However, you fixed your eyes on the small gap in the wood which allowed a clear view of the outside. Sure enough, seven men all tumbled out of the sprinter with practiced speed and ease, their hair covered with baseball caps and/or hoodies, and their faces carefully shielded with dark face masks. They were led in by a more senior employee, possibly a manager, whereas the rest of their staff worked to unload their luggage. It was then that you raised to your feet and tucked a few bills under the lowball glass you had been nursing and retreated to your room. That was your cue to prepare.

Hours later, you were fixing the strap of your heel. Your body was bound tightly with a black dress, so sleek and supportive that you were able to forgo a bra with ease. Your hair was carefully parted to the side and fell in loose curls that tickled your side, layers framing your face just-so. Your makeup was also done in a way most of your clients took a liking to — simple, neutral shadow, black eyeliner darkening your waterline and lash line, your eyelash extensions wet and wispy as described by the technician. Your cheeks were lightly dusted pink and matched your peach colored glossy lips. You had also taken the liberty to dust the inner corner of your eyes with the same blush to carry the same soft glam. Your feet were sheathed in low denier stockings which shimmered under low light, and a black belt with garters lay hidden under the viscose of your dress like a present waiting to be revealed. From your ears dangled gold earrings which twirled carefully around your curled locks. From your neck fell a simple golden pendant of your star sign (it felt like a good luck charm of sorts). On your right wrist lay a small stack of gold bangles which often left observers with a twinkle in their eye. Finally, your feet sparkled in your bejeweled Louboutin heels which had been previously gifted by some other sponsor from the past. You looked what many would quote as a million bucks — why not look like what you earn?

After a quick twirl in the mirror and a once over of your pink and gold clutch bag contents (your phone, a power bank, gum, mini perfume, a roll of condoms, the key card to their suite which had been slipped under your door while you were having a shower, loose packs of lube and a hair tie), you let yourself out of your hotel suite.

There was another surprise that you had hidden under your sleeve, but that can be revisited later.

The walk to the exclusive elevator felt like the longest walk known to man. It was natural to feel nervous prior to bookings, but this particular fluttering in your stomach was unlike any other. You almost felt sick with the ascension of the elevator. You let your eyes fall short for the few seconds ride to the top of the building. You drew in all the breath you could muster in the small space into your lungs and carefully drew it out in a low exhale. Unlike with regulars, you had decided to go sober in order to suss out your surroundings before letting loose — your nerves suffered as a result of your chosen temporary sobriety, the mojito you had sipped long vanished from your veins.

The clack of your heel almost coincided perfectly with the drums of the mixtape flowing through the sound system as you carried your body towards the door. As your shadow casted over the white aspen door, complete with yellow gold accents and cursive lettering confirming you did indeed arrive at the Penthouse Suite, you raised your arm to wrap at the door, the clanging of your bangles accompanying the melody. You tried to knock hard enough that it would be heard over the music, but you weren’t too sure when the banter indoors stretched and continued for a long few seconds. You were contemplating on letting yourself in when the door clicked open.

A young man with dirty blonde hair swung the door open. He had opened it curiously at first, unsure, but something about your appearance etched half crescents into his eyes as his mouth stretched into a grin. Shit-eating, if you will. A thin, brown sweater hung lazily on his body, almost hinting at the appearance of his chest with its low cut, along with dark slacks and his feet covered in simple black socks. If you had to guess, they had gone somewhere earlier in the day and had come back not long ago. His hand nursed a bottle of soju which had a swig, maybe two, left knocking at the bottom of the glass. His smile, being so painfully infectious, caused the corners of your mouth to similarly rise.

Suddenly, from behind, a hand gripped Jimin’s shoulder and sharply tugged him back away from the open part of the door, the door as a result swinging wider. “Already hogging the girl for yourself, greedy fucker,” a silvery voice rang into the atmosphere. There stood Jung Hoseok in all of his hyper glory, face positively flushed the same hue of pink as your blush, similarly nursing a beverage in hand — this time, a premixed alcoholic cocktail in a can. He too was all smiles like you were the one thing in the world anchoring all of his happiness, and it edged a small laugh out of you. “He was just introducing himself!” You spoke in Jimin’s defense, placing a hand on your hip. Your tone remained airy and light, finding yourself to slowly warm up to the singers. Hoseok too mirrored your movement, his free hand decorated with rings finding purchase on the belt holding up his baggy chamoisee pants, subtly riding up the short brown overcoat over his shoulders which revealed a white decorated t-shirt of a random band from the 80s. He shook his head in mock disapproval of Jimin’s actions, while the blonde stood to the side incredulous. “You couldn’t even invite her inside bastard?” Hoseok snapped, feigning a kick to his side by raising his foot sharply and stopping just short of the other’s thigh to force Jimin to flinch. A short exchange of ghost punches ensued between the two, and your giggles had stopped them, as if their short lived rivalry had caused them to forget about their guest.

With both of them taking your hand (your clutch bag’s strap slung around your shoulder), you allowed the two to walk you inside. Besides a two-second long walk through a small corridor, the room opened up to something much larger. Under your red heel laid deep mahogany that seemed to stretch forever despite different rugs and fixtures in its path. Towards a back wall you spot an unmanned bar — well, manned by none other than Min Yoongi. He had been in the middle of pouring himself a healthy glass of whiskey when you had been escorted in. In the middle of the room were two large velvet beige couches with silver accents that seemed to go on forever, both L-shaped and joined in the middle to create one large piece that would be more than enough to sit 25 people at least. On the couch sat Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin, seemingly cracking loud jokes over Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook who were both on the gigantic coffee table in front of the couches and before a TV that easily rivalled most in-home cinemas. On the TV displayed a rap music video, where Taehyung and Jungkook messily recited what sounded like the lyrics to it, but went through a garbage disposal in the process. However, what shocks you the most was the pool. The main area of the suite was open plan, no walls to shield from the outdoors. Just beyond the living area were deck chairs, a stack of beach towels, and a long stretch of glowing aqua, sparkling with the backdrop of the city lights. With it being a surprisingly warm December, there was no bite to the air besides a gentle breeze that whipped curls over your shoulder. For the first time in a while, you were blown away. However, there was no time to be shocked — whoops and hollers were soon hurled in your direction.

Naturally, as the entertainer you were paid to be, you immediately got into work mode. Swaying your hips back and forth, you gently let Jimin and Hoseok's hands drop while making your way to the men in the main living space, happy to welcome you. "Oh shit!" Namjoon exclaimed with glee, raising to his feet. Seokjin too followed suit while giving you a standing ovation, and suddenly a black satin sash draped over his left shoulder was more visible. 'Birthday Boy' was swirled across the material in sparkly silver writing. A silver crown with yellow gems, put together by the cheapest costume jewelry a craft store could offer, sat lopsided on his head of dark locks. Still, his wide smile could've fooled you into believing it was his most prized possession.

Letting your clutch purse fall from your shoulder and onto the end of the settee, your grin almost rivalled that of the elders as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck in a sweet embrace, hips still subtly swaying to the music's intense bass. The dark haired man's arms snaked around your waist and his own hips mirrored your own in your shared intimate cuddle. "Happy birthday Jin!" you cheered, raising your voice into his ear due to the mix of loud music and the unrelenting banter coming from all sides — which had now intensified with you and Jin's shared dance. Soon, you broke the embrace to greet all the men properly, though not as intimately as the cuddle you and Seokjin had previously shared with one another.

And so, chaos ensued.

The evening unwound itself like an idle ball of yarn on an inclined hill.

It started with you joining Jungkook and Taehyung on the table for their rap performances — performances that the likes of Kendrick Lamar, Drake, Megan Thee Stallion and Cardi B may sue for defamation if their performances somehow saw the light of day. While you had few lyrics in mind, the men were easily pleased and just about cheered you on for anything you did. Then, naturally, drinks started to flow. They were initially administered normally — in cups or shot glasses. It gradually devolved into just about whatever cup they laid their hands on, then soon it was double shots poured directly into each other's mouths by the bottle. It seemed that the liquor went down smoother that way and everyone similarly agreed — even Namjoon when the tequila went down the wrong pipe and spluttered up the alcohol all over Jimin, who was a mere bystander and the one pouring in the alcohol into his open mouth at the time. Then, it was all of you sitting on the couch while they recounted funny stories whilst on tour. While you were having fun, you didn't forget about the fact that you were working. While they were in the midst of their bantering, you made yourself available to each man, one by one – manicured nails drawing idle circles in the nape of Namjoon’s neck where his grey turtleneck didn’t quite reach, your smaller hand drawing up and down Jimin’s thick thighs while he chortled, a hand idly resting on Yoongi’s chest, your fingers playing wordless games with Taehyung’s longer, more venous digits, laying your head on Seokjin’s lap as he ran his fingers through your loose curls, the tip of your nail tracing the shapes of Jungkook’s sleeve of tattoos and finally running the back of your pointer finger over Hoseok’s cheek. You could tell that the men loved your company – if not for the later events that would confirm how you felt, it was the way they regarded you with something a little more emotional than lust, like they actually appreciated you there. It was a funny predicament because you didn't even feel like you were working with the amount of fun you were having.

So, how exactly did you come to find out they were really enjoying your company?

It all started with fuzzy die.

“Kiss…” Jungkook grumbled, spying the die closely. One furry cube had come to a still on the royal blue carpet before all of you, while one took the liberty in enjoying an extra tumble while the rest of you waited in suspense. Soon, it came to a stop at your feet. “... Lips?” You had finished, your gaze switching from the pink cube of fur at your feet to Jungkook. He clicked his teeth in disapproval, clearly unamused at the tameness of the option it had finally landed on. The others also cracked jokes about how the eldest had somehow landed himself something so innocent. It was clear that they expected something anticlimactic, akin to a peck or something short and sweet, but the mischievous glint that sparkled in Seokjin’s eyes fueled the daring thought that had already been cooking its way up in your head. With the ample alcohol dancing within your veins, a hint of hesitation could not be detected in your next actions.

You rose to your feet, leaning over the table to grab a bottle of sweet liquor from the array of half full bottles scattered across the oak. You didn’t break eye contact with Seokjin for even a split second, and he too trained his eyes on you despite being heavily lidded from drinking. You had initially thought that he might be too drunk, but the way his steady hands moved to hold your waist with such firmness when you shifted your knee onto the couch to straddle his waist. Though there was some hype among the men, it was translated in the form of low ‘ooohs’ and intense staring. Raising the neck of the bottle to your rosy glossed lips, you tipped your head back with ease. The liquor still carried a bite to its flavor profile, but after a night of casual drinking, it’s not something that wrecked havoc on your taste buds or throat like it normally would. “Hyung, you don’t know how to handle her,” Taehyung piped up and chastised. You offered a small smile at his statement, seeing as your mouth held the alcohol, but Seokjin didn’t react. In fact, he had been solely focused on how you had taken the alcohol in your mouth so carelessly. He was hungry — and it was a good thing you were too.

Your manicured hand moved to cup his honeyed skin, simultaneously as you handed the bottle to Namjoon who had settled into a seat beside the two of you. Then, when your hand was free, it similarly moved up to cup the other side of his face. At first, your mouth moved to simply press against his own, and you could feel him following the lead you were taking in your shared kiss. It was then that your mouth opened slightly to let the liquor pour in a small, steady stream directly into his mouth. The small moan he emitted into your mouth was not lost on you and sent a flutter directly to the pit of your stomach. As your mouth emptied, one of your hands dropped to cradle the side of his neck, thumb brushing over the thinner skin and feeling his Adam’s apple bob with effort. When the drink that remained in your mouth was just the essence of its recent presence, your lips began to move against his in a slow, deep kiss. His lips were soft, calculated, controlled, but the hands on your waist told a different story. His grip was tight, running along your sides. It was tight enough for you to appreciate the grooves that his rings were leaving on your clothed torso.

“Okay, okay, fun’s over birthday boy,” you had heard Taehyung nag at the time, all the while the men excitedly made commentary on how deeply your lips moved against one another. However, just like Seokjin was prior to their kiss, you paid no heed to the outside world when Seokjin was this much of a great kisser. It was when his hands moved lower to cup the round of your ass that the chorus of protests erupted. “Leave some for the rest of us!” you had heard Jimin wail. It was closely followed by the feeling of a soft thud against the sides of you and Jin’s faces, which adequately broke the kiss so as to see the weapon. It was a cushion that had previously been supporting Taehyung’s back, but he had clearly wielded it as a weapon. “I don't know if you forgot, but it’s my birthday brat,” Jin retorted, grabbing the cushion to hurl back at Taehyung with surprising accuracy. You laughed at the scene before you while you moved to resume your previous position on the couch, but Jin’s grounding grip on you stopped you in place. “Don’t move,” he murmured, regarding you carefully. “At least, wait until the next roll.” With that, you instead spun your body around to face the rest of the group while your back pressed against the satin sash splayed across the elder’s front and his hands wrapped around your waist, his chin subtly perching on your shoulder. “I have chills, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this smooth with a woman,” Hoseok commented, his hand running over his arm for emphasis. You quickly threw a wink in his direction. “I tend to have that effect on people, Hobi.”

Taehyung was quick to rise to his feet to pick up the set of fuzzy dice to try his luck in getting his hands on you. While he fumbled around with that, Seokjin’s lips gently tickled your ear from the grazing of his mouth to his soft, warm breath. It made you shiver ever so slightly. “Baby,” he started, his voice an octave lower than normal. It made your breath catch in your throat, but you were able to squeeze out a little ‘mhm’ to prompt him to continue. “Your safe word is strawberry. If you don’t feel comfortable with us, use it — we can cut this short and send you on your way.” The sound of his voice in your ear was enough to make you feel lightheaded, so a mere ‘uh huh’ was the only thing you could muster in agreement. Understandably, that wasn’t sufficient for the young man. “Use your words and repeat it. What’s the safe word?” His voice suddenly had a sort of dominant streak to it, catching you aback. Still, it was hard for you to not follow such an authoritative man. “Strawberry,” you mumbled with flushed cheeks, just as Taehyung let the die tumble on the ground. “Good girl,” he drawled in your ear, evidently pleased. It wasn’t something you had noticed before, but in the corner of your eye, there’s a soft red glow. You turned your head slightly and there it was — Yoongi and Namjoon sitting quietly at the other end of the settee, taking quiet drags of their cigarettes while watching the chaos unfold itself before them. They were both watching you, very closely at that, and their eyes drank up the sight of your body sat plush against Seokjin’s. Their expressions were unreadable. You soon broke out of your trance at the hoots on the other side of the room and you turned to see what the commotion was about facing up on the die was one with the illustration of a tongue, followed by the other displaying the word ‘thighs’. Though you too whooped in celebration, the deep thump of your heart made your nervousness undeniably present.

As Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok chanted in encouragement, Seokjin did the second thing that had surprised you all night. With one hand firmly gripping your thigh, he parted his legs which as a result parted your own due to your position. Although you had no qualms spreading them in the first place, something about the dark haired man spreading it for you, like you lacked the faculties to do it in the first place, was strangely arousing to you. Taehyung was in front of you in a few strides, and it didn’t take much convincing (or any at all) for him to drop to his knees before you. Taehyung’s eyes always seemed to draw you in with no effort required — you had no issues to report in you craning your neck to meet his gaze whenever he spoke. However, there was something particularly damming about how good he looked on his knees before you, especially now that as a result of Jin’s strong hold, you bore all before him. The previous hype from the men surrounding the three of you and died now, not quite into nothingness, but mirrored the thoughtfulness and observation of Namjoon and Yoongi. There were still sarcastic comments thrown and soft laughs and giggles that were majorly alcohol driven, but for the most part they waited on bated breath for Tae’s next move.

Leaning in close, his pink tongue darted out and laid flat against your stocking clothed flesh. As much as you hated it, your breath immediately hitched at the sensation of the warm, wet organ caress your lower body. You blinked slowly, almost immediately dizzy at such feeling. You were previously laughing right along and joking with the group, but you were faced with the very real possibility that things were escalating fast — and you didn’t want to slow down for a second. Taehyung’s tongue, much like Seokjin’s lips, took their time with taking in the mild taste of you, despite the cloth barrier. It seemed like he was revelling in your shivers and how absent minded you had appeared more than the action itself, because his eyes didn’t dare to leave yours for even a split second. The dark circles in his eyes had grown so large his eyes closely related to black and it caused your breath to shudder. Out of the corner of your eye, Yoongi seemingly adjusted his crotch area with the cigarette dangling from his lip; his hand seemingly remained there.

Jimin sighed, exasperated, as he rose to his feet with soju bottle in hand. “You’re making me feel left out,” he spoke, almost whiny, with a deep frown etched into his forehead. Bringing the neck of his bottle to his lips, he threw his head back to allow the rest of the liquor crawl down his throat while walking towards the abandoned dice. You were trying so hard to focus on the dirty blonde, but you were already doomed between your slight inebriation, Jin’s grip and breath on your neck as well as Tae’s licks (which he had taken the liberty in turning to pecks) across your darkened flesh. After setting the empty bottle on a nearby table, Jimin picked up the cubes and let them roll on the floor. Hoseok leaned closer to the dice in order to read for himself. Jimin had evidently already understood the instructions, judging from how he approached you with a shark-like grin. “Kiss nipples,” Hoseok stated matter-of-factly. There was no smile on any of the other members’ faces anymore; they were enjoying the view of you being slowly picked apart by each action towards you. The amount of eyes, as well as hands, on you made you feel overwhelmed in the best way possible. “That’s okay with you, Y/N?” Seokjin’s voice in your ear grumbled. Your head nodded in approval quickly, followed by an audible ‘mhm’.

The hand Seokjin had left on your waist moved to grab your hip, the pad of his thumbs firmly pressing into your lower back to prompt you to sit up away from his chest. It was then that you felt his thumb gently dig into your spine, where the true fabric of the dress began, to grip the little zip. While he busied himself with that, Jimin cradled your chin in his hands and tilted your face towards his own. “You look kind of dumb right now,” he remarked with a smirk. It was a comment that carried the same weight as a slap across the face but similarly sent a deep throb to your core. You were so wet, you were sure of it, and you weren’t entirely sure how you’d got to this point. Alas, Jimin was correct — you managed to look so disheveled and something in your heart knew they were just getting started. You couldn’t even find the words to respond to Jimin beyond a soft, strangled whine. Hoseok and Jungkook cooed to themselves at how adorable you were, but it went through one ear and out the other rather quickly. The only thing consuming your senses in that moment in time was Taehyung’s lips, Seokjin’s strong grip and Jimin’s intense gaze that sent shivers down your spine. It only got much more intimidating as you heard the quiet scratch of your zip parting itself, and the tight squeeze of your chest suddenly released. You were still clothed, but your dress merely hovered over your breasts. Almost in perfect synchronicity, Jimin pinched one strap of your dress while Jin pinched the other and they both pulled them down from your shoulder and off your arms. The cool air of the night came into contact with your exposed breasts immediately and you sighed a breath of relief. You could hear Namjoon murmur a ‘wow’ under his breath.

Suddenly, the room had become deathly quiet. Even Taehyung’s lips had stilled its torment between your legs.

Gently, Jimin’s hand cupped around the bottom of your right breast, holding it just so it perked up perfectly for him, and dove down to wrap his lips around the hardened peak of your nipple. It wasn’t what you would describe as a kiss, what with his tongue flicking against it, but you were happy to forgo technicalities and semantics for now. You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut as your head knocked back against Jin. He had taken the liberty to knead your other neglected soft mount, breath heavy on your neck. By habit, your hips began to grind themselves on the man below you, him almost immediately rolling his hips to meet yours, and you becoming acutely aware of his length pressing itself on your backside. “She’s so pretty like this hyung,” Taehyung spoke from underneath you. He had stopped stimulating your inner thighs a little while ago in place of appreciating the view from below. “You’re telling me,” Seokjin almost growled in response.

It wasn’t long before Jimin detached himself from your chest and raised his hand up to tangle in your curls, gripping the back of your head by the root. It didn’t hurt, but the way he held your hair meant he could maneuver you exactly the way he wanted. By up or hair, he pushed your head slightly more towards him while he leaned down until your lips met. No warming up was needed — from the start, the kiss was unadulterated hunger from both of you. A mess of tongues and lips somehow choreographed into a routine that made sense, so much so that both of you moaned at the same time. All the while, you could feel the man behind you begin to pepper kisses all over your neck while the man below you began to hitch your dress higher and higher. Once it hit the swell of your ass, Jin took the initiative to pull it up to your waist. A groan left Jin and Tae simultaneously; if you had to guess, it was probably the unexpected appearance of your belt and garter and possibly your dark thong. If you didn’t look like a mess before, you undoubtedly looked like one now. “She looks like a fuckin’ picture,” you heard Jungkook comment. His comment this time around was darker, not of the same calibre of funny jokes and remarks he was making before. Your hand took the liberty of traveling onto Jimin’s bare torso under the hem of his loose sweater, and you could feel the bumps of his abs across his skin. There was so much going on, all you could do was your best in order to make everyone feel seen.

The throb between your legs was so present, you were sure that Seokjin could feel it radiate towards his bulge. It forced humility to wash over you, but you couldn’t let that break the flow you had already begun. You broke the kiss you shared with Jimin with great regret, holding eye contact for a brief few seconds as your eyes fluttered open, before switching your gaze to Jungkook and Hoseok. They evidently weren’t expecting your acknowledgment, but their eyes flooded with lust translated as readiness to you. “I didn’t know your group was a bunch of voyeurs,” your voice spoke, poking fun at their passiveness. You didn’t direct it towards Yoongi and Namjoon — you had a feeling the older men would happily participate wherever they saw fit. With a disapproving click of his tongue, Jungkook almost sprang to his feet and stalked over to the group, reaching down to grab your hand. When you let his hand envelope yours, soft and warm yet firm, he pulled your body towards his and prompted your body to rise off of Seokjin’s lap and away from Jimin and Taehyung. There were words and distresses of protest, but not much — they were intrigued to see what the youngest had in store.

When you had been brought to your feet, Jungkook couldn’t quite swipe the mischievous smirk on his face. He clearly loved the way your body looked, particularly admiring the way your stockings made your legs sparkle, how the belt and garter was taut against your bare thighs, the twinkle of your heels. “You’re so fine,” he grumbled, his hands finally unable to resist temptation as it raised to caress the curves of your torso. For the third time that night, your lips met with another man, and this time it mirrored Jimin’s; messy, needy, hungry. Clearly, being a mere spectator had done a number on him. You feel another set of rough hands grip the dress that had gathered at your waist and pull them down your legs, and suddenly the only thing offering you even bare minimum coverage was your sheer stockings and thong. You were effectively naked, the only one at that, and you didn’t quite like it. Through the mess of tongues and Jungkook’s being hands running up and down your sides, your hands moved to his leather jacket, pulling the fabric over his shoulder to prompt him to shed himself of the cover. He was the one to part ways with you just as his jacket hit the rug beneath your heel. The only thing covering his chest was a black compression shirt, carefully squeezing itself against his skin so as to expose the bulging muscles that lay in wait beneath. You physically swallowed — his body looked edible.

Then, the next thing he did was enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

His touch left your body and he retreated to the couch. He sat down with practiced ease and laid his body down across the sofa, still so big in size it didn’t interrupt the position of the other men sitting along its expanse. His head laid just below the armrest at the end of the couch, his facial piercing gleaming under the soft lighting of the vast suite. It was then that the young man turned his face towards you and beckoned you to come, two thick fingers posed in your direction and motioning a ‘come hither’ ministration.

“Come sit on my face.”

You were a freelance tour manager in the K-Pop industry for 4 years, having worked hard enough to get your phone number in manager’s phone book and eventually be the trusted name in the industry that was the first one to be uttered in Zoom calls and board meetings when idols touched the tarmac of American airports. You were diligent, efficient, sharp — yet still carried an air of warmth despite the daily stressors your occupation offered to you on a platter of gold.

It was one faithful day when the name “BTS” came across your desk. It wasn't like you hadn’t worked with the biggest names in the industry already, but they were easily the biggest on the planet. Sold out shows, high production value, concerts that went on for hours — you had naturally tuned into other tour shows when you weren’t working and could tell that the stressors surrounding a BTS tour would be uniquely special in the worst way possible. You couldn’t have been more correct.

Days went by without sleep. Countless amounts of biting your tongue not to curse yourself a storm at a backdrop being the wrong shade. Dumb amounts of occurrences of lost earpieces and jewelry. Yet, you still showed up as the competent, productive worker you were, never uttering a request without a ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.

Jungkook saw all of it.

All seven of the men were sweethearts (even Yoongi who you had assumed seemed a little standoffish initially, but was truly warm on the inside) and there was no interaction with them that was truly negative apart from a harsh word in moments of chaos or a click of the tongue in an exchange of words. However, Jungkook’s smile was always that little bit wider when you came into view. He attempted to speak English with you tirelessly to impress you, despite you having learned Korean and you tirelessly reminding him that you were fluent in his native tongue because it was a requirement of your job. You always attempted to carry an air of professionalism consistently, but Jungkook broke the persona effortlessly without much thought.

After a successful American tour, all of the production team arranged a small dinner with the BTS members to celebrate a fruitful tour and to thank everyone, but namely you. It was then that Jungkook really let loose and poured himself out to you — most of your conversations on tours were maximum three minutes at a time, a short “hi” or “how are you” while running helter-skelter — but this time, he had followed you out to the restaurant’s exterior for some air in the midst of the members and other production staff engaging in excruciatingly painful karaoke.

Between you stepping outside and the two cigarettes that Jungkook went through, you became hyper aware of the fact that you were falling for him hard.

He made it clear that he too had fallen for you.

So where does that leave you?

In bed crying?

The soft dark sheets seemingly cradled you, a small bunny plush in your grip, its brown ears mopping up your salty tears that fell incessantly. The rest of the apartment was eerily quiet and dark besides the sobs that wracked your body like a fever of sorrow that you couldn’t quite shake off and the soft glow of your phone screen.

BTS’ management had made the executive decision to make you and Jungkook’s relationship public — after months of him begging them to do so — and so the articles started rolling in since morning. Dispatch, Pop Crave, TMZ among countless other pop gossip pages and websites spread the news like the gospel. Of course, there was a chorus of people in support of your relationship — but whether or not it was louder than the hate, you weren’t sure.

Your Instagram and Twitter DMs became flooded with the most horrendous string of words and phrases you had ever seen in your life. You had been threatened endlessly, your baby pictures that had harmlessly been on your mother’s Facebook page became warped and edited with the most heinous things. Your comments (before you had limited them) were littered with fans egregiously slut shaming you, thousands of puking emojis, thousands more of poop emojis. Even as you laid there, hiccuping through your devastated sobs, your phone maintained its light with more and more notifications of hate rolling in. HYBE had already issued a warning threatening legal action, but it was of no use.

In that moment, as the saltiness of tears was the only thing your tongue could confess, your lip twisted into a quivering frown, the gentle fur of the toy in your grasp interrupted by wetness, your eyes burning and sore from unadulterated sorrow, the darkness in the room and the light of your mobile further drawing you into maddening misery — you were a shell of a woman. You had dealt with the most overindulgent music artists, been dealt harrowing words from your superiors, ran yourself on nothing but coffee and determination for 24 hours straight, but nothing seemed to come close to how awful you felt now. Your heart ached with an ache you had never previously felt before.

You had been so overcome by your own emotions that you missed the familiar melodic beeps that coincided with Jungkook’s arrival. He had rushed from dance practice, hurriedly packed away his damp sweat towel, looped the elastic of the dark face mask around his bejewelled ears while racing down the corridors, bundled himself into his arranged transportation with an air of urgency and insistence that pulled onto the threads of his heart urgently. However, now that he had set foot in your shared apartment, the young man had become eerily unsure.

He had spent most of his day scrolling through social media and running through his pack of cigarettes at an alarming pace. Jungkook was not new to this — he had been subjected to intense criticism from the most audacious rumors stemming from seemingly wearing something similar to another female idol, or even a small interaction with one that was so insignificant that he couldn’t even recall them if he were asked. This was different. you didn’t ask for this. You wanted to proudly be Jeon Jungkook’s partner, to freely post about your cute text messages, the gifts he showers you with — to be a normal couple. You didn’t ask to be in this shit storm that had been created. For that, he was devastated.

He had tried hopelessly to text and call you where his schedule allowed. The last time he had called you was that morning right before the news broke. You were elated. There was a sweet relief in your tone that was infectious and Jungkook couldn’t help but to succumb to its effects. It wasn't long after that you became unavailable, gradually distancing yourself with every comment, every message, every email that laid out just how disgusting you were, how you were unworthy of being in Jungkook's life.

The air in the apartment was thick with something that the singer could not describe. It was so stifling, he immediately shed himself of his mask, cap, boots and backpack at the front door. If he wasn’t nervous before, he was definitely anxious now. His socks padded along the wooden floorboards, barely making a peep, as he made his way to the bedroom. Just as he found the door ajar, the sound of your wrecked sobs was enough to stop him in his tracks for a long minute. He too needed to take the time to swallow down the lump in his throat that had seemingly formed out of nowhere. Nonetheless, this was his cross to carry and not yours. Nudging the door open with his foot, his eyebrows set a deep frown at the sight of your body, completely enveloped in the sheets, turned away from the door. You shook a little from the extent at which your weeps rippled through your person, so much so that you even missed his presence at the door.

It was only when you felt his arms wrap around you, the grieves of your voice became relieving.

He pressed his face into your neck, pressing the smallest pecks against your warm skin. His body was cold from the evening winds that had whipped around him, but it did wonders in beginning to anchor your body in what seemed to be lost and flailing in your despair. For what seemed like hours, his presence vouched for him in what all the words in the world could not say. His soft humming of a love song, his thumb stroking the back of your hand which still held onto your bunny plush, his soft, sweet caresses of his lips — they all dwindled your spiralling state into one of peace, reducing your previous weeping to residual hiccups and tear stained cheeks.

“It was all so.. bad,” you managed after some time. you still did not have the heart to turn around and face him. His humming had stopped as soon as you had opened your mouth, but his other calling ministrations continued, a nonverbal way of encouraging you to continue voicing your feelings. So, you did.

“It’s everywhere I look. It's like I can’t escape it and I feel like maybe I deserve it.” Towards the end of your sentence, your words got caught in your throat once again and fresh tears welled up in your eyes, shamelessly threatening to spill over. There was no better time to use his words.

“Did you burn down an orphanage?” He spoke simply. The comment, so bizarre and out of place, was enough to draw a small smile across your mouth. “Not quite,” you had quipped, almost incredulous of the sudden conversational detour. It was then you finally moved to face him, one hand raising to press against his clothed chest. You could see, even through the darkness, his facial expression softened at the dimmed sight of your face. Though there wasn’t much he could see, the moonlight through the window did enough to reflect the wetness of your eyelashes, the lightly colored streaks staining your skin, your eyes looking so fatigued and low. You’d been through hell and back within a day, and Jungkook wasn’t there to brave the flames along your side. Still, he couldn’t stop what he had started.

“Then why on earth would you deserve the shit they’re saying to you?” His voice had an edge to it — as if there was venom he was trying so desperately to keep at bay but was seeping to the surface despite his efforts. Your voice was lost on you, unable to gather the words that had been whirring in your brain nonstop for hours. Your gaze dropped, as if to be looking for the words in the bedsheets.

“Hey,” his voice smoothed. He raised his inked arm to your face, where his pointer finger tucked itself underneath your chin and forced you to raise your gaze to meet his own. His eyes were strong, stoic yet gentle, emphatic. “You’re perfect, Y/N. Everything about you. You're perfect for me and they don’t see that,” his voice whispered, and for a moment you think he might shed a tear from how unstable his voice became at the tail of his sentence.

“I’m sorry that you’re going through this alone. I know we wanted this but you didn’t sign up for… whatever this is.” The finger propping your chin upwards moved to the flesh of your cheek, lovingly tracing the trails of sadness. You found your head nodding, finally receiving what he was pouring into you. “We’re gonna sue every last one of those losers blowing your phone up, okay? The only thing….” A kiss on the cheek. “…that matters…” A kiss on the forehead. “…is me and you.” A kiss on the lips. By the end of his little monologue, a small smile had finally reappeared on your face. Jungkook couldn’t have been more grateful to return the color back into your vision.

“I love you,” you grinned. You finally moved in and pressed your lips against his, soft and gentle. Jungkook, however, was not going for that. He quickly deepened the kiss, with his other hand moving to cup the back of your neck. His lips moved slowly against yours, painfully unhurried, yet so deep he stole the breath from your mouth. His lip rings pressed into your own naked ones, bound to leave a temporary dent in the pink. He was staking his claim on you. It was a kiss that gave you all the reassurance the world could possibly muster for you. The rhythm he established was so pleasing, it drew a soft moan into his own mouth. After a stretched minute, he was the one to break the kiss and rest his forehead against yours, breathless.