Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

i. Jimin trains Taehyung to come untouched.

content: orgasm control, training, mentions of chastity
warnings: sir kink, use of word slut, humiliation, crying

Taehyung hasn’t come in a month.

That’s not to say he hasn’t had sex. He and Jimin are both fairly insatiable, and have earned such glowing reviews as disgusting and impossible to be around by those who know them.

If anything, he and Jimin have been worse than usual, fueled in particular by Taehyung’s desperation to come, a desperation that doesn’t have anything to do with lack of sex.

It’s what they’re doing that’s to blame.

It starts from a simple suggestion, the comfortably teasing pillow talk in between rounds. Taehyung had reflected that he’s never been able to come untouched, an idea that Jimin had latched onto.

“Not at all?” Jimin asks curiously, hand dipping down from the arch of Taehyung’s back to squeeze at the curve of his ass. Taehyung arches into the touch with a content noise.

“Mm-mm,” he hums, fingers tracing patterns over Jimin’s stomach, face buried against his chest. “Don’t tell me you’re, ah—” his breath slips as Jimin finds and traces his still-sensitive rim, just a light massage, not enough to get anywhere but enough to be distracting. “Taking that as a challenge.”

“I bet I could make you,” Jimin says thoughtfully. Taehyung shivers at the suggestion of it. Jimin’s by far the best he’s ever had, receptive to all his wants and needs. As a plus he’s gloriously willing to play dominant to Taehyung's submissive side, and takes pride in learning Taehyung inside and out, in breaking him down to build back up time and time again.

Taehyung’s breath hitches, stilling as Jimin continues his maddening massage. “Yeah?” he postures, feeling brave. The edge in Jimin’s voice had returned. “How?”

“I bet you just need some training,” Jimin says casually. Taehyung shivers, and Jimin pulls back to kiss his forehead, a smile showing when Taehyung had blinks up at him curiously and a little dazed. “You wanna hear how?”

“Please,” Taehyung whispers. They may have just finished, but fuck if Jimin isn’t an expert at doing this to him, working him back up and into whatever game he’s thinking of. Taehyung whines when Jimin’s hand moves away from his ass, and hisses when it comes to curl instead around his cock.

“First,” Jimin’s voice is all clinical as he squeezes Taehyung’s dick. “We’d stop touching this. You’re too used to that easy pleasure,” and Taehyung whines harder as his grip tightens before Jimin lets go, leaving him with an ache. “Nuh-uh, keep your hands up here. Hips still. You asked me to tell you how I’d train you.”

“No touching,” Taehyung repeats dutifully, even though he feels his cock jump as he says it, still throbbing from the ghost of Jimin’s touch. “But I can’t come unless…”

“We’ve never tried,” Jimin counters, tracing a hand lightly down Taehyung’s stomach, side, back, anywhere but where he wants. “See, I’m thinking that if you were desperate enough—teased enough—your body would learn to come without it.”

“How long do you think?” Taehyung squirms. Jimin handles Taehyung with a grip to his thigh, tugging his leg up over Jimin’s hip but so careful not to touch where he needs. His hand traces back across Taehyung's body as he pleases.

“I don’t know,” Jimin professes, “You’re pretty used to getting what you want. But think, darling… days, weeks, of teasing you, training you, keeping you open and untouched and toyed… you’d learn to come like that eventually, I'd wager.”

“And if I don’t?” Taehyung almost moans. He's getting worked up just imagining it, hips gyrating so slowly against nothing—they’ve played with periods of orgasm denial before, but he’d always been touched. This new promise, of anything but—it’s doing something to him. “What will you do, Jiminie?”

“Mm,” Jimin's soft, leaning to catch Taehyung’s lips in a kiss, sloppy and sweet, mumbling against them, “You think I’d ever get tired of that? Having a dripping, needy doll, always ready to take my cock, my precious denied slut?”

“Fuck,” Taehyung gasps against his mouth. His hips buck forward, but Jimin shoves them back before he can get any friction against his hardening dick.

“Easy, baby, we’re just talking,” Jimin teases him. Taehyung groans. “I don’t know how long it would take, but I do think you’d learn to come like that, when you got desperate enough. The answer, though?” Jimin considers. His fingers slip back to circle at Taehyung’s hole, massaging where he’d fucked not even a half hour ago, still sensitive and pleasurably stretched. Taehyung actively struggles not to grind back. “I’d love you like that. I’d keep you like that til you break, baby—either call it off, or learn to come.”

“Oh,” Taehyung inhales. “That’s—It sounds so hot. Jimin.”

“It does,” Jimin agrees in a murmur. “What are you thinking, Tae?”

“I… kinda wanna try,” Taehyung admits, biting his lip. “To learn to come like that. To be… trained like that.”

“Think about it some more, huh?” Jimin offers, laughing at Taehyung’s pout when he pulls back. “When you’ve got a clearer head."

So Taehyung had, and unable to get the idea out of his head, he’d agreed.

It’s embarrassingly hot. The first rule, as Jimin had suggested, is simple: his dick isn’t touched. Taehyung isn’t allowed to touch himself anymore; only Jimin is, and he certainly isn’t merciful enough to do so in any way that gets him even close to feeling good. The most he ever does is when they shower, and Jimin will clean for him with cold water, smirking to himself as Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut the more sensitive he gets as time goes on.

Taehyung is, however, allowed to play with his ass. In fact, Jimin encourages it. He can play however he likes, be as nasty as he can get: as long as it’s all he touches. This results in dozens of different toys and techniques tried, time taken nearly every day to reached that blessed edge, but it’s never close enough.

Jimin loves it. He coos at Taehyung’s attempts, and promises each night to do his best to help Taehyung overcome that barrier before he himself gets off using Taehyung. His ‘best’ is keeping Taehyung’s hands off, and toying him every which way until Taehyung is needier, more open and desperate than he’s ever felt in his life. 

It’s a gorgeous feeling, denial. It always is, to be left aching, wanting, dangling so frustratingly close on an edge. But this is different, because Taehyung has permission to come, any time he can. If  he can. And as weeks pass, he almost loses sight of the end goal, ending up twisting and crying and covered in sweat as his body jumps on the sheets, always wracked with pleasure but never anywhere close enough.

“Hands off,” Jimin snaps as Taehyung involuntarily tries to slip his down.

His cock’s throbbing, bouncing hard and untouched against his belly, always, always leaking so easily in these sessions. As usual he’s on his hands and knees, back arched with legs spread apart, and lost track of time. Tonight, Jimin’s used his fingers, the favorite pink vibrator, and is now fucking a glass dildo inside Taehyung until his toes are curling. It feels amazing, humiliating, being spread open and played with every night, so much of Jimin’s attention devoted to him. He falls mindless in it, and instinctively his hands want to reach to his dick, hard and hanging useless between his legs. But Jimin reminds him with his words, and a few sharp smacks, and Taehyung fists his hands back in the sheets, sobbing. “Don't make me tie you. You know you can’t touch.”

“I know, I know, sir, m’just—” Taehyung shudders as Jimin slips the dildo out, and arches back, begging. Jimin just laughs, and circles it maddeningly at his entrance, never slipping in farther than the tip.

“Is this not enough for you?” Jimin mocks. "Doesn't feel good enough?"

“It does! It does, sir, please, I just—” he chokes on his whine when he hears Jimin spit, feels saliva drip in. “Hng, I’m so, wanna come—”

“You’re allowed to come, though,” Jimin muses. He shifts, and then Taehyung hears the buzz of the vibrator start up again, crying as Jimin slides it in until Taehyung feels it in his teeth. “Any time, baby.”

“I can’t,” Taehyung sobs. He’s never been this desperate, never thought he could ache like this, willing to do anything for even a touch. “I can’t, sir, I can’t, s’just—there, ‘n I can’t—touch me, please, just touch me!”

“I am,” Jimin replies calmly. Taehyung hits a hand against the bed in frustration. “Oh, did you mean—? Oh, no, baby, we don’t touch that any more. What good is it to me, hm?”

“Can't—Can’t come without—” Taehyung’s jaw drops open, blank as Jimin slips the vibrator out. He clenches emptily around nothing.

“We can stop, any time,” Jimin says, free hand stroking through Taehyung’s hair. Taehyung cries. “Say the word, darling.”

“I—” Taehyung shudders. He wants it, so badly, in this moment—but struggles to remind himself why they’re doing this.

Why he wants it, wants to learn, loves and craves the heights of this desperation, how a moment of weakness will ruin it all. It's hard to remember in the moment, when he's been played with and teased, the nights he goes to bed in Jimin's arms still wanting—but it's always worth it, in the end, when the willpower wins over the body's desire. He trusts Jimin, and so he shakes his head with another sniffle, and can hear the fondness in Jimin’s voice.

“Good boy,” Jimin praises, “I know it’s hard, sweetheart. But imagine how good you'll feel. After all our hard work.”

“Yes, sir,” Taehyung mumbles. The bed shifts again, and Jimin’s hands run over him. “M’good. M’gonna—learn.”

“I know you’ll get there. Some day,” Jimin teases, and Taehyung shivers as he feels Jimin line himself up, slipping inside—he takes anything and everything so easily, now, weeks of play and already an hour into this session. His boyfriend hisses out a breath, bottoms out to thrust back in and takes his pleasure from him. And Taehyung aches, drips, drools, comes so close and yet never enough—

Jimin comes in him with a groan. Taehyung weeps, trembles as Jimin pulls out only to fuck his fingers back inside and play where his cum leaks. This is simultaneously the best and worst part of every session, feeling Jimin fuck him deep to get off, arousal rocketing with the knowledge he's being of use to Jimin's pleasure. So, so desperately close and yet so far away, just grateful for the stimulation and the intoxicating idea of Jimin using his desperate body for his pleasure no matter how long it takes for his body to learn to come like this.

"Don't worry, darling," Jimin hums, later, as they're lying down. His sigh is sweet, sated. Jimin treats him like a prince after, always cleans Taehyung carefully and soothes him down from the precipice with a massage and kisses. Taehyung whines low, face buried against Jimin's neck. Arousal almost always in his blood now, oversensitive and denied. "Maybe next time, hm?"

Taehyung's always loved when Jimin fucks him, but it's starting to become an all-consuming craving; one of the few things that takes his mind off the ache, even if it's so much worse after. He edges his ass every night now, begins to accept and even love the need between his legs when all he's ever allowed anymore is to be full. Begs Jimin with a depravity he's never felt before, when Jimin goes so slow each night, won't even touch Taehyung until he's already been playing with himself a while and smiles maddeningly listening to Taehyung plead. That his cock is the only thing to take the edge off, when he's been opened and toyed and throbbing for so long.

"Fuck, Tae, you feel so good like this. So fucking empty,” Jimin swears. His first thrust tonight already has Taehyung hiccuping. “Been thinking I should get you a nice cage, hm? Keep your hands off that cock of yours even if you tried, your ass always needy for me. Permanently. My own sex toy.”

“Jimin,” Taehyung gasps, slit leaking embarrassingly, full and craving so much more, always craving more, these days. Jimin always gets vocal when he fucks him, filthy mouth even worse than usual, spitting things that push Taehyung deeper every time. He's got the stamina and power of a dancer's hips, and even then Taehyung wishes it could never end.  “Jimin, please, don’t stop, mmnever stop—”

“I think that’d be lovely,” Jimin breathes, setting a pace, hands locked onto Taehyung’s hips fit to bruise, keeping him up away from any friction against the bed. “You’re always ready like this, baby. My little tease toy, always asking to be played with—always ready to be fucked, can only play with what’s useful to me. Got you addicted to it, always begging for my cock just 'cos you need something inside you so bad. Why would I want that to go away?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung moans, all spit and barely comprehensible. Jimin pulls on his hips every time he pistons his hips forward, tugging Taehyung back to meet him on each thrust. It has Taehyung blank, mind emptied and entire being gone to pure need and grateful for the relief Jimin offers him now. Every part of it is gorgeous, a fog of pleasure. Distantly he realizes he's drooling, mouth hanging open and eyes unfocused, focused solely on the feeling of Jimin hitting a spot deep inside him that's been targeted for a month now. The only place he ever feels any relief, now.

“It's been so long now," Jimin breathes in awe. Taehyung sobs with the reminder. "Maybe soon you’ll even forget what it’s like to come, Tae,” Jimin’s nails dig into his skin as he taunts, and the pleasure hits Taehyung harder each time, built from weeks of tease and denial and desperation. “Until you learn like this. Yea, I think we can find a nice cage—I’ll come in my little doll whenever I like and keep him plugged up, until you only ever need this—”

“Jimin, I think—” Suddenly a particular brush has Taehyung sees light stars, bringing him back present and hands scrabbling at the sheets. His dick bounces uselessly, a wave rising slowly but surely in his stomach, it’s all too much and not enough, until for the first time it is. “I think—I might?—oh, Jimin, please don't stop—"

“You wanna come so bad, don't you?” Jimin croons, a hand gripping in Taehyung’s hair. “Wanna come so bad it hurts? Then come!"

“It does, it hurts,” he nearly cries, “Jiminie, it hurts, m'wanna come so bad, it does hurt—”

“Good,” Jimin growls, “That’s how I like that big, dumb cock,” and Taehyung can tell he’s close, fucking harder and faster into him, shoving Taehyung down. “Untouched, fucking aching for me, leaking like a slut, like my slut—”

“Jimin,” Taehyung babbles, “I think—I think, I'm—”

“Come on my cock,” Jimin breathes the order against Taehyung’s neck, teeth scraping his shoulder. “Come on my dick, baby. I know it’s what you want, wanna feel you come on it, on nothing else, I fucking own you—”

Taehyung wails as something inside him finally, finally snaps, stomach hot and toes curling. It knocks his elbows out from under him, arching as his cheek presses into the mattress, jaw falling open stupidly. It has his eyes rolling back, body clenching as Jimin fucks him through one of the most intense climaxes he's ever had in his life, lasting longer than he's ever felt and shuddering his whole body down to involuntary clenches. Praise spills from Jimin's lips as Taehyung twitches bodily through it, ecstasy not ending until Jimin finally stills and comes inside him, a silent moan on Taehyung’s lips to feel it warm inside. Relief, for the first time since he can remember.

He’s left dumb in the wake of it, slumping when Jimin pulls out, lets him down carefully.

“You did it,” Jimin breathes, half-collapsing beside Taehyung. He twists, pulling Taehyung into his arms, brushing bangs back from his eyes and kissing everywhere across Taehyung's he can reach. Taehyung basks in it, still stunned. “Oh, baby.”

"Fuck,” Taehyung mumbles empathetically, mind still half-gone. He ghosts a hand across his front and shudders at the sensitivity. Words come slow. “That was—fuck.”

“Fuck,” Jimin agrees proudly. “Fuck, you did so well, Tae. So good for me, I’m so proud of you. Took me so well, took everything so well. Good boy,” the praises don’t stop, and Taehyung curls closer to Jimin, glow spreading through him. It’s been almost two months of daily play since he’s felt sated, and it's ten times more pleasurable for it, coupled even more so by Jimin's voice. “My good boy, learned so well. Oh, Tae, you came so beautiful. You feel good?”

“So good, good, thank you,” Taehyung mouths it into Jimin’s neck. Jimin hums pleasedly. “Thank you so much. That was—hng. Fuck. Felt so good. So worth it. 'M so soft.”

“You were amazing,” Jimin’s pride is obvious, hugging him close. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

They rest a while, Taehyung bathing in an intensified afterglow, Jimin’s arms around him. Thinks happily, through the haze: this is what submission is. The trust he placed in Jimin, and Jimin's genuine support and pride. He's safe in Jimin's arms, kisses pressed everywhere as he comes down.

After a bit, Jimin’s words echoing still in his ears, he calls softly to his boyfriend.

“Yes, baby?”

"Thank you, so much," Taehyung repeats in a whisper. "I feel so good. So close to you. It was all worth it. Make me feel so good."

Jimin dips his head to press a longer, deeper kiss to his lips. "Of course," he whispers back. "I love you."

"You too," Taehyung closes his eyes.

After a hesitation, he starts, “N' Jimin?" Jimin hums. "About what you said, earlier…” Taehyung starts. “The other stuff you said we'd do. In the scene… that if I stayed, you know... denied, longer. About, mm, how you could use me. When I'm that needy.”

Jimin kisses his forehead, soothing hands over his skin. "I tried to work you up,” he says. “I mean, don't get me wrong, Tae. Like I said, why would I complain about you always wanting me..." he teases, and Taehyung flushes, shoving playfully at his chest. "But I did want you to come. I figured a filthy mouth might be half the journey."

“Well, I… really liked what you said,” Taehyung says shyly. Taunts Jimin has spit at him this last few weeks flash through him again—then a torment, now a lingering curiosity. He'd fallen so far into such perfect depths, the desperation unimaginable; now, even finally granted the goal he'd been chasing, he already wants to go under again. “Do you think… maybe, we could…?”

Jimin stills, then pulls back to look at Taehyung. Taehyung sees the same consideration and excitement in his eyes from the talk of a cage, of longer denial.

"You'd wanna try more?" Jimin raises an eyebrow. "It wouldn't be easy."

Taehyung smiles shyly at him, nodding small. Jimin returns the expression.

"Baby," he says, and kisses him, forehead and cheeks and open mouth. "I'm so lucky."

Chapter Text

Jimin’s wearing the shoes.

It’s kind of all Taehyung can focus on. Certainly the cabin’s luxurious. A large screen, the safety introduction playing across it on mute. A fold-out table and plenty of leg room. Sink-in seats, fully reclining—and conveniently facing across from one another in their cabin.

“Taehyungie,” Jimin asks, and Taehyung only realizes he’s been staring at the shoes when he has to snap his eyes up to Jimin’s smile.

“Mhm?” Taehyung asks, just a note too strained to be entirely casual. Jimin’s smile just spreads. Kind, polite. Knowing.

“Mm, I was wondering,” Jimin says, tilting his head. A strand of hair falls across, lips pouting attractively— “Do you mind if I put my feet up?”

Taehyung doesn’t react, visibly. At least not in a way anyone else can tell. Privately, his thoughts are disjointing just a bit, that particular longing starting deep within him, to let everything drop away and fall inside himself. It’s been so since this morning, when Jimin wore the shoes, the ones Taehyung had bought him—and had laid under that night, coming with the sole pressed against his dick. He’s been able to control the memory so far, but now, zoning out after the maze of the airport, it’s playing in his head tantalizingly.

“Sure, Jiminie,” Taehyung’s proud of how smooth he keeps his voice. They may have a private cabin, but an attendant could come by any time—and fuck, if that doesn’t get to him. Jimin doesn’t even hesitate, leaning back and lifting up his legs to land on Taehyung’s lap, heels against thighs.

They’re beautiful shoes. Classic Louboutins, bright red peeking up at Taehyung. A vibrant reminder of how wonderfully Taehyung had dropped that night, kneeling at Jimin’s feet and cleaning Sir’s shoes with his tongue. Taehyung can feel heat pooling in his stomach just from looking at them, but he’s got a feeling Jimin has a little more in mind, to have worn them for their flight.

“Jimin,” Taehyung ventures, cautiously, voice soft. Without lifting his head from the backrest, Jimin tips his head to rest against his shoulder with an encouraging hum. “We’ve got—a long flight. Do you want—I could take them off.”

So he stumbles a little. It’s hard not to, pretending they don’t both know exactly what Taehyung wants. That same lazy smile returns to Jimin’s face, and he just looks at Taehyung for a minute or so, as Taehyung reddens, as he feels the weight of Jimin’s legs on his thighs more and more.

“Sure, baby,” Jimin says easily. Taehyung thinks he’s almost dropped there, moving so reverently to curl a hand against Jimin’s ankle and slide off the shoe, heel-first, so carefully. He repeats the action for the second, setting the shoes aside on the seat gently, gut twisting to lower Jimin’s feet back to his lap.

The plane hasn’t even fucking taken off.

“If you want something,” Jimin says boredly, head staying tipped back, eyes closed. The picture of rest, while Taehyung practically drools over him. “You should just ask.”

“I wanna make you feel good,” Taehyung lets it blurt out, voice just above a whisper. He swallows thickly, lifting a hand, just barely daring to thumb at the rise of the sheer black socks. “Jimin.”

Jimin’s laugh is soft. He’s probably been planning this since this morning, maybe even before. “Go ahead, then.” he arches his foot forward, dangerously close. Taehyung’s breath catches, everything in him yearning to shiver his hips forward and everything in him holding him still. If Jimin wanted to play fast, he’d show it. He wants it slow, and his voice drops so low, only for Taehyung: “Service slut.”

Taehyung shudders bodily, saliva pooling in his throat. He hooks his thumbs under the socks, tugging them off, already half-dazed dumb when he presses fingers to skin. He knows Jimin loves him like this, and Taehyung loves to be like this; when he’s stunned so lovely that giving anything for Jimin provides him ten times the pleasure, and he works his hands softly just the way Jimin likes, massaging his thumb into the soles of Jimin’s feet.

“Good boy,” Jimin murmurs. No one’s come by yet, and Taehyung’s face flushes so hot at the thought of someone doing so that he can’t help but inch forward. Just a hair’s length, but nothing gets by Jimin, because he snorts, and puts Taehyung’s imperceptible shift to shame by digging one foot down right into Taehyung’s crotch.

Taehyung’s mouth drops open, barely able to hold back the whine in his throat. Jimin’s voice doesn’t even waver.

“Don’t be greedy,” he scolds, and then the pressure’s gone, lifted back away. Taehyung almost groans in disappointment as his dick gives a shameful throb. “I’ve already given you more than enough.”

“Yes, sir,” Taehyung whispers, mindful of the compartment door that could slide open any time. He fixates, hands returning to the circular motions Jimin likes best, mind starting to slip away in the pleasure of servicing. “Thank you, sir.”

Chapter Text

The only time it ever gets weird, Jimin thinks, is when guests stumble upon it.

They usually keep the kennel hidden, of course, but there's collars and muzzles and more, and sometimes one or two go unaccounted for. They're getting better about it, but even when they aren't, both Jimin and Taehyung have mastered the private smiles they flash at each other when they innocently say they're thinking of getting a dog soon.

They hadn't known, of course, when Jeongguk had found a collar, how accurate of a prediction that had been.

Jimin is the one to find him, headed downstairs with a box in hands. He can hear Taehyung singing in the kitchen, and Jeongguk is where they'd left him, in the living room and sat on the sofa. He's a darling, a great friend of theirs and over for dinner, but right now his eyes are wide and fixed straight on the thick collar left sat on the coffee table. Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches out as Jimin watches, and traces a finger across the buckle.

Jimin coughs.

Caught red handed, Jeongguk jumps. His smile is sheepish, his cheeks red.

"Hey," he says, and nods to the box in Jimin's hand, "You've got the DVDs?" 

Jimin looks down at his arms, haul nearly forgotten. He hums noncommittally and places the box down beside the sofa, and doesn't miss Jeongguk's eyes on his arms as he does so.

He's been invited over to help them sort through some old stuff, see what can be sold. Spring cleaning. Now the gears in Jimin's head are turning for an altogether different reason.

"We're thinking of getting a dog soon," Jimin says, more calculatedly than usual. Jeongguk looks confused for only a second, before his eyes flick back to the collar guiltily.

Jeongguk's nod is slow. Thoughtful, like he's weighing his next sentence. Despite the pause, he sounds no less certain for it.

"Hyung," he says, the false confidence in his voice more open than any book, "That's what you told Namjoon at your last Christmas party, too."

Maybe anyone else would fluster. Jimin struggles to keep a smile off his face.

"Did I?" he says mock-thoughtfully, tapping a finger to his chin. "Mm. It's July now."

"And to Taemin last month, during karaoke," Jeongguk says. Any noise from the kitchen has stopped. Jimin doesn't need to turn to know Taehyung is listening, too.

"Guess we just haven't found the right one," Jimin says casually, flicking his hair out of his eyes. Jeongguk swallows. "What do you say to that?"

"I don't... know," Jeongguk almost squirms, even the tips of his ears a soft pink now. Jimin restrains himself from cooing. "Let's just—is dinner ready?"

It takes a few more months. Jimin is honestly surprised it takes so long, losing the bet to Taehyung over when Jeongguk would bring it up again. This time it's movie night, and Jimin's left a muzzle on the stair rail, trying not to snicker at how wide Jeongguk's eyes get when they find it.

He's known for a while, as it turns out. Not that Taehyung and Jimin have been altogether secretive, of course, especially not since the conversation that day. It takes a few drinks and five My Hero Academia episodes before the topic comes back up.

"Kaminari is totally the traitor," Taehyung argues. At the same time, Jeongguk blurts out, "Are you a furry?"

There's been plenty of awkward silences in their friendship, but this one takes the gold.

"I'm—what?" Taehyung gapes at him. Jeongguk flushes, glancing back and forth between them.

"Or, you, Jimin, I don't know, I just—" he shrinks, looking very much like he regrets the line of conversation, or being born in the first place. He repeats, "I just—look, finding your Kurama figurine last week really broke me."

"Listen, I don't know what you have against Naruto, but I'll have you know that—"

"Jeongguk," Jimin interrupts cleanly, "It's called petplay."

The conversation goes better than might be expected. Jeongguk is redder than Jimin's ever seen him the entire time, but he listens openly, only occasionally squirming. Taehyung leans back on his hands smugly, nodding along and adding into the explanation where is fitting. It's quite the enlightening evening, and just the beginning.

"I don't mind answering any of your questions, and if you're ever curious," Jimin drops the bait casually, hand on Taehyung's thigh. Jeongguk can't seem to stop staring at it. "You're welcome to watch."

"What?" Jeongguk barely manages, lips parted. Taehyung licks across his.

"I'm not just into puppyplay, Guk," he says, a little hoarse. "I like being watched, too."

A week later, Jeongguk breaks down.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it," is what he blurts out. Jimin pretends to look confused. "About—you two. Together. I mean, I've thought about that a lot, but—" he doesn't look like he intends the admission to slip out, but continues valiantly. "Especially, the... petplay," his voice drops to a whisper.

So they talk, and plan. That night, Jimin teases Taehyung, asking how he'd feel if Jeongguk were watching him fall apart. Taehyung comes whimpering both of their names.

"It's more of a headspace," Jimin explains easily, fastening the collar around Taehyung's neck for him. Taehyung closes his eyes at Jimin's hand brushing over his hair, and sighs softly when Jeongguk, too, reaches tentatively, after an outstretched hand and a questioning glance to Jimin for permission. He's a little awkward at first, but looks fond smoothing his hand over Taehyung's hair, smile soft when Taehyung bumps his head up into it. "It can be sexual, or comfort play. Taetae likes both."

"Both... sounds good," Jeongguk says slowly. He's taking it in strides, looking adorable with flushed cheeks and a bitten lip. "He's... really cute. You're cute," he addresses Taehyung, and then yelps in surprise when Taehyung licks his hand with a grin. Jimin giggles.

"Puppy Tae doesn't talk," he says fondly, clipping the leash. "We have rules. Training. When it's not explicit, we just play like pet and owner. Sit, Tae," he addresses, and obediently, Taehyung sits back on his heels. "Beg," Jimin says, and Taehyung raises his hands, fists curled and tongue out.

At a nod from Jimin, Jeongguk fumbles for the bag of 'treats' — Circus Animal cookies, in all their pink-and-white frosted glory—and shyly holds one out for Taehyung. Taehyung accepts, and crunches down the cookie happily.

"Good boys," Jimin says sweetly. Both blush. "Would you like to hold his leash, Gukkie?"

"I—yeah," Jeongguk sounds breathless. "Can I?"

Jimin hands it to him, trying to fight back a sickeningly sappy smile. Both of them look so happy, shy but comforted in each other.

"Roll over," Jimin says. Taehyung's gorgeous, stripped down to a pair of boxers, and when he lies back, Jimin leans to rub his soft stomach. Jeongguk follows suit, looking absolutely enamored. "How are you feeling?"

He asks Taehyung first, who lets out a soft hum before making eye contact and nodding affirmatively. Jimin looks to Jeongguk and repeats the question.

"Good," Jeongguk says immediately. "I—You're both so—" he can't seem to form a sentence, eyes just a bit glazed. "Thank you. For letting me—you know. Be here."

"You like it?" Jimin asks carefully. Taehyung's eyes are fixed on Jeongguk as well. Their youngest considers, hand still soothing over Taehyung's skin comfortingly.

"I like it," he repeats after a minute. More certainly, "I like it," and his eyes stray to the collar. "I think... I might even... want it."

Jimin can't hide his smile at that. Neither can Taehyung, who grabs at Jeongguk's arm, and tugs him down. With a startled sound Jeongguk falls to him, and they roll together, surprise turning into soft giggles.

The scene ends with Taehyung curled across their laps. Jeongguk zones, staring into nothing, hand thumbing at the hollow of his throat.

They let Jeongguk pick out his collar. It's a soft thing, to start, a comfortable red with a dangling tag. They leave it blank for now, but Jimin can forsee himself engraving something with the same care he'd scribed down Taetae a couple years ago.

And they start soft, too, something like that first night. Jeongguk eases into it, still goes fire-engine red when they tease him about his training, but he picks out bite-size cookies as a treat, laps excitedly from the water bowl in the kitchen, curls together with Taehyung in the large dog bed beside the sofa.

It's not long before they're exploring further, progressing into the nastier side of things. First with Jeongguk as an observer, then steadily more of a participant, professing to have fantasized about them for a lot longer before he ever found that first collar.

"C'mon," Jimin coos, tugging on the leashes. He's leaned back lazily, arm tossed over the back of the sofa and legs spread obscenely. He gives another tug just for fun, snickering at the way the two fall into each other. "Impress hyung."

Taehyung's the first to whine. Jeongguk always starts a bit shyer, taking his training slowly, but his confidence always increases the further into the scene they get. Jimin thinks it helps to play alongside Taehyung, who always loses himself so easily, owned so long he's past any embarrassment with Jimin.

He looks good like this. The both of them do, their collars hooked on their necks and leashes in Jimin's hand. It forces them close together, cheeks pressed and sat up between Jimin's legs. Taehyung loves to beg, so he paws at Jimin's thigh, tongue out. Jeongguk's starry eyed as he watches him, ducking his head submissively with a nearly inaudible whimper. His eyes are adoring when Jimin tips his chin up, scanning his face.

"Hey, beautiful," Jimin says softly, tracing a thumb over his jaw. "Doing okay?"

Jimin can see him thinking. They've made it clear, that questions are to be thought over and assessed, rather than a quick answer. After a moment he leans into the touch, nodding. Jimin kisses his forehead, and Taehyung leans in to lick at his cheek.

"Good boy," he says, leaning back. "Both of you, my good boys. Cute little pups. What would you like?"

It's kind of a rhetorical question. Jimin's pants have been off for a bit, and he's obviously hard, their eyes on him longingly. Taehyung lolls his tongue out, sitting up on his knees and curling his fists in front of him. Jeongguk follows suit, and Jimin smiles at the sight.

"Wanna make me feel good, huh? Okay," Jimin sighs, giving himself an upward stroke. Their eyes follow the motion hungrily. "C'mon, don't keep me waiting."

They’re messy about it, but Jimin wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s barely a rhythm, but Jimin doesn’t want to come yet, anyway, is pleased alone with the stimulation and getting off enough to watch them, desperate. Mouths wet, his cock’s slick with spit in no time, as they take turns and sometimes kiss—Taehyung’s mouthing down the side to where Jeongguk’s licking a stripe up the base, and their tongues meet. Jimin lets out a happy sigh, and motivated by it, they meet at the head, lapping at it between their lips and kissing soft. Jimin lets his head fall back, putting on as much of a show for them, and is rewarded for it when they nuzzle into each other, a stray tongue flicking into his slit. Jimin shivers, pushing himself back up.

“Teases,” he hums, and they don’t even have the wherewithal to look guilty, just beam up at him. Jimin reaches to ruffle their hair each, smiling when Taehyung tries to lick at his hand. “Eager with your mouth today, are you, sweetheart? Why don’t you show our new puppy what a properly trained boy can do, huh?”

Jeongguk chokes back a whine to watch, always does. Taehyung grins up at Jimin before sucking the head into his mouth, sliding down so trained until his nose is pressing into Jimin’s stomach. It had been a long-term type of training, Taehyung not allowed to come until he could fit cock down his throat, and well worth it—Jimin pets his hair, and smirks to see Jeongguk's jaw slacken when Taehyung slides off with a cute pop before licking Jimin back into his mouth and down. He bobs in a well-practiced rhythm, experienced enough Jimin's pulling him back off with a hand in his hair and a scolding expression.

"Not yet, Taetae," Jimin says, a little breathy. He hooks a finger in the loop of Jeongguk's collar, tugging him closer. "Let's see how our new toy is coming along."

What Jeongguk so far lacks in depth, he makes up for with his tongue. He likes to play, kittenish licks before wrapping his mouth around the head and swirling his tongue. His eyes are always fixed devotionally upward, and Jimin gives him a moan for it. To his side Taehyung leans in, kisses where Jeongguk's cheek bulges and down his jaw to suck at his neck.

"Darlings," Jimin praises in a sigh. Taehyung scoots knowingly closer, but Jimin decides to allow it, giving them a lazy grin. "Go ahead," he gestures, and they whine as they rut against Jimin's legs, cocks hot and flush, mouths reaching wickedly. "Make me come, and I'll let you clean me up."

Chapter Text

Jimin’s fucking mean when he teases, delighting in every which and way of it. And Taehyung—Taehyung’s beautiful in the haze of it, pretty skirt pushed up to pool on his stomach, hands to the headboard and legs tied far apart as can be.

“You look good like this,” is what Jimin tells him, touching a finger to the slit of his cock. Just barely, but Taehyung arches into it, hips a shudder that beg for more. So Jimin denies him, because fucking mean is Taehyung’s favorite.

Jimin picks up the feather again. It’s a soft thing, stiff throughout until it curves to a fluffed end. Jimin’s seemingly the most fond of that part, forgoing the rest of it to brush just the maddening tip across Taehyung’s cock again, again, again. Never with any sort of rhythm, never in any one place too long; nothing that could offer any opportunity to get used to it, let alone relief.

Jimin toys him until he’s crying, and long past. Until he’s babbling, twitching against the ropes and begging teary-eyed for something, anything more than the useless tease of the feather and Jimin’s small, self-satisfied smile as he watches Taehyung throw his head back and fall apart.

“You’re so wet,” are his first words in a while, just impartial enough to be mocking. Blearily Taehyung lifts his head, whimpering to see his steady leak, cock a desperate, dripping curve to his stomach. Jimin’s voice drops even lower, a conspiratorial whisper again— “Baby, you’re so wet.”

“Jiminie—please, s’it’s—I, it’s, I need—” he’s practically blubbering, thoughts gone a long time ago, empty and leaked out to make way for overwhelming need. He shakes, he clenches on nothing, he barely feels human. Jimin hums sweetly to his words, just barely increasing the speed of the feather to tickle at the base of Taehyung’s cock, fluff at his balls. Taehyung’s head drops back again, eyes rolling in a desperate moan.

“Not making much sense, either, baby,” Jimin scolds softly. The stiff edge of the feather is almost worse, brushing up against the underside of Taehyung’s dick at something that might just pass for a rhythm. “Isn’t this enough for you?”

Taehyung’s response is broken, a wail of a cry. He shakes his head side to side until the tears stream anew down his cheeks, arching his hips as best he can. Jimin doesn’t care, hand too trained and careful to give Taehyung even the slightest more stimulation than he allows.

"I mean, if you'd rather—" Taehyung's eyes widen, can tell what Jimin's about to do just from the wicked glint in his eyes. "I could always—"

And Taehyung thrashes as Jimin dances the feather up his side, across his stomach and joins it with his hand. He kicks his ankles in the cuffs, barely able to beg through wet gasps, tears overflowing as he's tickled. Jimin only stops for one word, and it isn't please—if anything that's got him crueler, stitching his fingers into Taehyung's ribs and dragging his nails down Taehyung's chest. Taehyung laughs until he cries, and cries as he laughs, pleading desperately, nearly choking on it as Jimin giggles above him.

He stops eventually, of course, finishes with a wet raspberry blown to Taehyung's quivering stomach. Taehyung blinks away the tears, cheeks aching, just to moan as the feather drops back to his cock, an entirely different kind of torture.

“I suppose,” Jimin murmurs to himself. His hand is warm on Taehyung’s thigh, and the pad of his thumb presses a welcome pressure to Taehyung’s hole. “My hand is getting tired. And you're awfully needy.”

Something in Taehyung’s desperate nod convinces Jimin. He resettles on the bed clinically, slicking up and circling their pretty glass dildo, laughing at the way Taehyung squirms and begs for it— “Empty, empty, m’so—” finally working it into Taehyung until he’s shuddering and slack-jawed.

The rest is simple. Jimin uncuffs Taehyung’s ankles one by one to slide the lace up his legs, tugging the panties up his hip. Even through the lace Jimin is careful, just barely brushes Taehyung’s cock to tease and laughs at the twitch. After that the clamps go on easy, Jimin circling his tongue around each nipple and sucking skin into his mouth with ease before clipping them on. Last is the gag, and Jimin hums to himself as he helps lift Taehyung’s head gently, leaning down to kiss the ball and pat Taehyung’s stomach once, proud of his handiwork.

And then he settles down beside Taehyung, arm around his waist and a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“If you can come like this, you’re allowed,” Jimin murmurs.

It’s humiliating, but Taehyung’s been craving too long to care as he gives in. He clenches and squirms uselessly in the restraints, whining as it’s nowhere near enough, trying to lift and angle his hips down onto the dildo or gain friction against the lace of the panties.

Jimin watches with amusement. “You really are trying to fuck yourself on it!” he pretends to marvel in a teasing tone, crooning and pinching at Taehyung’s skin. After a few minutes, he pulls out his phone, settling his head in the crook of Taehyung’s shoulder to browse idly as Taehyung aches.

Jimin opens the camera once—giggles at the flush in Taehyung’s cheeks, the pink of stretched lips, and snaps pictures of them, Jimin smiling, Jimin's lips pressed to his cheek, every example of Taehyung wrecked at his doing. Humiliation burns in Taehyung’s stomach, but it’s not enough to stop trying to grind up against or on anything. If anything, he just gets hotter.

“Don’t worry, love,” Jimin sighs when he settles back into Taehyung’s side, hand brushing kindly through his hair. “You keep yourself nice and warm and needy, ‘n I’ll fuck you later, hm?” Taehyung mumbles wetly into the gag. “It’ll be better coming on my dick anyway.”

Chapter Text

Jimin’s hands are careful as they smooth along Taehyung’s shoulders, unfasten the epaulettes atop his uniform and work to lift the chestpiece. Without even realizing, Taehyung’s eyes nearly drift closed, Jimin’s hands on him gentle, familiar, a suggestion of what’s to come as well as a steadfast reassurance. His knight, for years now. Undressing the prince may be below Jimin’s rank, but he’s always been one to go above and beyond in his duties.

“You did well today, Your Highness,” Jimin’s voice is a dream, high in tenor but none the less intense for it. It’s low now, the same murmur reserved for imparting information into Taehyung’s ear in court sessions.

But the hall is empty now, grand doors locked, Jimin’s guard knowing better than to disturb. There’s no cause for alarm, not with them, raised together practically from diapers. Jimin has scars from protecting Taehyung, ones he kisses by night when Jimin tells him not to worry.

No, there’s no one who knows him so well, and it’s well understood that he’s safer with Jimin than almost anyone alive. Left alone without worry, and if there’s talk, then let there be so.

“Thank you, Jimin,” Taehyung replies just as softly.

The reverence with which Jimin helps him out of his coat enthralls. Armor set aside, each arm tapped for Taehyung to lift his limb and let Jimin slip the coat off him. They’re treated with care, heirlooms kept pristine.

Taehyung’s undershirt, however, is afforded no such mercy. Jimin always seems to enjoy wrecking them, a glint in his eye as he spins dagger in his hand with ease and cuts down the front of the dress shirt. Later Taehyung will tease, whine that he must have something against buttons; right now he’s blinked his eyes back open to watch in a daze, heart pounding for when Jimin starts getting rough.

“You’ve marked well,” Jimin almost croons, finger trailing down the dotting across Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung shivers at the touch, and when Jimin leans to kiss down his chest, suck a nipple into his mouth and pinch at Taehyung’s stomach he can’t hold back a soft moan, head tipping back. Jimin pulls back instantly, eyes lidded and dark with arousal.

“Careful, Your Highness,” he murmurs. “We don’t want anyone to hear what you really are behind closed doors, now, do we?”

Taehyung snaps his mouth shut, shaking his head. Jimin smiles, and strips off his white-silk gloves with practiced efficacy. Presses them against Taehyung’s lips and into his mouth, until he’s effectively gagged, cooing a taunting, “Hold these for me, won’t you?” as he grips Taehyung’s chin and moves his head for him into a jerked nod.

“Good boy,” Jimin pats his cheek, and Taehyung shudders bodily. When Jimin curls his fingers beneath his necklace and tugs, Taehyung stumbles after him, hands laced behind his back after a scolding watch your posture, darling from his knight.

Arousal curls thick in Taehyung’s stomach as Jimin sits himself atop Taehyung’s throne, comfortably leaned back and the picture of confidence as he sprawls his legs without a care. Taehyung sinks to his knees before him, jerked closer by the grip Jimin seizes on his shirt collar, and gasps as Jimin presses the sole of his boot squarely down on his crotch.

“Mmfh—” Instinctively Taehyung recoils. Jimin keeps him, a hand twisting in his hair to tug him back under the crush of his heel. Lets go of his locks just to flick at the crown atop his head, and oh, that gets to him, has Taehyung gasping wide with the grind of Jimin’s boot square against where his cock strains against the seat of his pants.

He loses himself in it, far too worked up already. He doesn’t even realize he’s let the gloves slip until his head snaps aside, dimly registering through the pleasure-pain that Jimin’s slapped his cheek.

“I gave you one task, Your Highness.” Jimin says boredly. He’s stopped the lazy circle of his foot, and Taehyung arches forward, desperate for the stimulation to return.

“M’msorry,” Taehyung breathes, licks out across his lips, too much spit from his mouth stuffed full. He ducks his head, nuzzles against his knight’s knee. “Got—distracted.”

“Is that so?” Jimin mocks, all-too-aware he’s the reason for that. “Show me how sorry you are.”

Taehyung drops to his hands and knees, almost no hesitation before—he lets his tongue fall, drags them across the flat of Jimin’s boot. And again, and again, little kisses as he goes, the whimpers Jimin likes so much. The only indication is the heaviness of Jimin’s breathing even he can’t hope to hide, until his voice is a labored, “Stop.”

Taehyung pauses. Presses one final kiss before Jimin says, “Come back here, doll,” and grips his chin fit to bruise when he resurfaces, leans down close with glassy eyes. Taehyung yelps soft as his boot finds purchase once more.

“I want you to get off like this, my prince,” Jimin tells him lowly. Taehyung whines as the pressure turns sharp, pinned and writhing. “You asked for this, don’t you remember?”

“Jiminie,” Taehyung groans, “Ghgh, please.”

“Fuckin’ begged me for it, really,” Jimin mutters, “Saw you squirm all through court, do you think anyone didn’t notice?”

“Jimin, Jiminie, I—”

“What?” Jimin coos.

“It hurts,” Taehyung groans, even as his hips buck forward into the pressure. “It hurts, it hurts—”

“It hurts, does it?” Jimin taunts. He steps down harder and swallows Taehyung’s cry in a kiss, murmurs against his lips, “Then why’s your cock still so hard, huh?”

“Because I—” Taehyung cuts off in a gargle. Jimin forgoes the grip on his chin to reknot his fingers in Taehyung’s hair harshly.

“Answer me,” Jimin orders. “I asked why you’re still so fucking hard.”

“Because I—like it,” Taehyung moans, thick and low in his throat, rocks his hips up into the sole of Jimin’s boot. Jimin grins, and grinds down repurposeful. “Because I like it!”

“I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t quite catch that,” Jimin says, and of all the things, reaches to straighten his crown for him. “What is it you like, Your Highness?”

“I like when—” Taehyung flushes hot, keeps his swimming gaze fixed skyward into the wicked curve of Jimin’s smile. “I like it when you step on me, like it when you step on my cock, ah.”

“Mm, I know you do, sweetheart,” Jimin sighs, releasing Taehyung’s hair and leaning back. On Taehyung’s throne, looking down at him through pretty lashes. “Work for it, doll.”

The pressure eases. Jimin lets his leg slip instead between Taehyung’s, and the shame burns hot in his veins as Taehyung gives in, humps against Jimin’s leg with a low keen.

“What would people say if they saw their prince like this,” Jimin drawls, reaches to brush Taehyung’s bangs out his eyes. Taehyung groans, lets his head fall forward, into Jimin’s lap; Jimin welcomes him, smoothes a hand through his hair and thumbs at the nape of his neck. “Desperate, owned, hm? You may play the court’s game by day, darling, but by night it’s mine. All mine.”

“Please,” Taehyung’s long since squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment, its humiliation mixing thick in his stomach with the pleasure as he gets himself off, on his knight’s leg in the throne room, arousal pooling hot. Until it’s almost too much, “Jiminie, may I—?”

“Greedy,” Jimin considers noncommittally, and Taehyung whimpers. “Oh, all right. If you must.”

Jimin’s fingers find his mouth when he comes, press down on his tongue as Taehyung feels himself come in his pants and flush hot in shame. He pulls Taehyung up through the sweet after, into a kiss that separates only to bite and tug on his lip, hands slipping up under his shirt to soothe circles against his skin.

“D’you really think—” Taehyung murmurs into his neck when he’s recovered, enjoying Jimin’s arms around him. “Anyone noticed today?”

Jimin snorts. “Nah,” he decides. “You’re too good at your business face, Tae.”

“Mm. Pity.”

Jimin chuckles, places another kiss to his temple. “C’mon, Your Highness. Let’s sneak back upstairs before the guard rotates.”

“You’ll draw a bath,” Taehyung pretends to command, hand rubbing down Jimin’s arm. Jimin laughs.

“Anything,” Jimin teases, presses their foreheads together. “For my prince.”

Chapter Text

“i can’t,” taehyung slurs, cock dripping in jimin’s hand. jimin gathers the cum beading out of his slit impartially, fashioning it to lube as he rolls the head of taehyung’s dick in his palm to a polish. taehyung recoils best he can in the restraints, but jimin’s got him pinned pretty to the wall, tortured dick a free target.

“you’ve only come three times,” jimin says, sounding bored. “three weeks of denial this time, and that’s all you’ve got for me?” taehyung can’t help a squeal when jimin flicks meanly at his balls, nail harsh.

“it hurts, s’too much,” taehyung trembles, groaning when jimin slaps his poor cock, still buzzing to a throb where jimin had held the wand up under the head until it’d pressed into his belly. drool slips freely from his lips. “can’t come anymore. can’t.”

“you can’t? but you were so eager to come. what happened to my desperate little slut, huh? oh please, sir,” jimin mimics meanly, voice going up a pitch. “i’ll do anything to come! and i asked you, do you remember, darling—anything? and what did you say?”

“ji—min,” taehyung groans in his throat. jimin pinches at his stomach.

“not what i asked, sweetheart.”

“i said anything,” taehyung whines, dancing in the restraints until the clips jingle against each other. “i said anything, i’d do anything!”

“right. and i said,” jimin carries on conversationally, “that i’d milk you fuckin’ dry. do you remember that? or do you only think with that pathetic big dick of yours now?”

“but it’s—so much,” taehyung whimpers, licking at his lips. “jiminie. sir. it hurts.”

jimin doesn’t look like he’s listening, picking the lube back up and popping the cap.

“give me a color, sweet thing.”

“green,” taehyung shudders, watching jimin nod and slick up his fingers. “green, jiminie, but—oh, i don’t know if i can come again.”

“we’ll see,” jimin says, “but you’re not coming for another month after this, baby. i’d get in all i could, if i were you—so let’s help you out, yeah?”

taehyung sobs when jimin fits the suction onto his dick, moving their toys and wires around. playing with taehyung, as he goes—tugs on the nipple clamps until they feel raw, pinches at taehyung’s thighs and leans down to kiss a hickey to his hipbone. jimin slips his hand behind him, encouraging him forward until taehyung’s bucked forward into the sleeve and given jimin space to work between his back and the wall.

when the sucker turns on, he chokes on a scream. impartially jimin twists his fingers inside taehyung, leans in close and kisses up his neck as taehyung writhes, another orgasm ripped out of him. soon enough jimin’s crooking in four fingers, and taehyung’s eyes are rolling back in his head.

“green, please, don’t stop,” he babbles unprompted, sensing when jimin slows. assured, jimin fucks his fingers up into him faster, pressing into a spot until taehyung’s filled and seeing stars. he runs his free hand up taehyung’s heaving chest almost soothingly, and rips a clamp off his chest when taehyung comes dry.

“doing so good,” jimin murmurs into his ear, nips at his earring. taehyung’s a boneless thing, twisting, held up by the restraints pinning his arms above his head, slurring without words until there’s only jimin, jimin, jimin in his mind, and no escape whether his hips rock forward or back. “one more, baby. one more for me. good boy,” as taehyung’s abdomen convulses, more pain than pleasure, barely feeling it but watching down through hazy eyes as his body shakes through it. he sags when jimin pulls out, switches off the milker, and catches taehyung, loosening restraints to carry him to bed and lay him down, hands careful and all taehyung needs.

“i hope you had fun,” jimin hums a while later, after taehyung’s rehydrated and curled close to jimin for a while. “and that it was enough to last yourself. remember, you’re not coming for a month this time.”

“my dick hurts,” taehyung mumbles a pout into jimin’s chest, feeling him shake with a giggle. “don’t laugh at me! god, i don’t even wanna come ‘til then.”

“that was the point,” jimin teases, hands carding soft through taehyung’s hair. “your game, your rules, baby. you came up with it. my favorite masochist.”

“yeah, m’pretty perfect,” taehyung yawns, snuggling closer to jimin. “thank you. really, m’had fun. when you get so mean, ugh—i love you.”

“i love you,” jimin hums back, lips pressing to his forehead. “you’re welcome, baby. any time.”

“so next month,” taehyung asserts. jimin huffs a laugh, answer enough, and kisses him again.

Chapter Text

“i’ve been thinking,” jimin says. casually, like he’s not got taehyung sitting flushed in between his legs, back pressed to jimin’s chest as jimin slowly works a fleshlight up and down his cock.

taehyung makes a lovely noise to show he’s listening. jimin hums in consideration as he twists the toy.

“i’m going to let you come today.”

taehyung twitches despite himself, low moan slipping out between his lips. he’s got his hands fisted in the sheets, legs pinned apart by jimin’s own thrown over him, head tossed back to jimin’s shoulder. he’s aching for it, already shaking—but taking his daily edges, like a good boy, no expectation to come.

the news isn’t as welcome as it should be, because it’s jimin, and jimin is as mean a dom as taehyung likes—that is to say, pretty fucking sadistic. still the hope surges in him, and he pants out what he needs to do to earn it.

“oh, nothing special, sweetheart,” jimin says innocently, lips ghosting down the side of taehyung’s neck. he sinks the fleshlight deep, free hand rubbing at taehyung’s side. “you can just sit there pretty as a doll and come all you like, if you like.”

“i-if?”  taehyung whimpers, teeth worrying his lip.

“mhm,” jimin says sweetly. taehyung shudders out a sigh, bucking up into the toy, letting his stomach clench along with the waves of arousal, let himself get freely close. then in a murmur, jimin continues, “and every time you come, that’s an extra week you spend locked up.”

taehyung gasps, hands finding jimin’s legs to dig in with his nails, immediately fighting back the climax he’d let start to build. the effort is obvious, and jimin laughs.

“oh, you will be coming today, darling,” jimin scolds kindly. “don’t try to fight that. it’s been a while since we overstimulated you, after all.”

“yes, sir,” taehyung chokes. it’s just like jimin to end a denial period with so many orgasms taehyung begs to go back into the cage where it’s safe from touch. still, a release is a release, and it’s been three weeks now. three hellish weeks of daily edging and no release. he’s desperate enough his stomach stirs at the prospect, even though he knows logically it’ll just be hell of a different sort.

“it’s a little cruel though, isn’t it?” jimin continues to muse. taehyung squirms, resisting the urge to nod. jimin’s already got his mind made up, after all.

“so here’s the thing: when you’re on that edge, you can tell me, ‘please, sir, ruin my orgasm.’ and i’ll take this toy away, and you can have that special kind of orgasm, where you twitch and cry and look like i’ve betrayed you. and then i’ll only add three days to your next denial period. how’s that sound, lovely?”

“it sounds—” taehyung swallows, voice trembling. “it sounds wonderful, sir. that’s fair. thank you, sir.”

“you’re welcome, baby,” jimin sighs, and the speed of the toy picks up. jimin’s trying to make him come, now, no doubt about it. taehyung shivers. “i’m very excited to see what my good boy chooses.”

it doesn’t take long. taehyung fights best he can, as long he can, but jimin knows his body better than he knows himself. taehyung shakes, throwing his head back, jimin biting into the hollow of his throat.

“please, sir—” taehyung feels the first tears, squeezing his eyes shut tight, feels jimin smile against his neck. “please,” he sobs, “please ruin my orgasm.”

“good boy,” jimin whispers, and pulls away the toy.

taehyung yells with the loss. it takes a second to hit, jimin's chin in the crook of his shoulder as he watches fascinatedly; then taehyung's hips are jerking as he tips over, and crashes, cum a pathetic dribble and immediate, burning need coursing through him twice as hard.

it’s barely relief. it’s worse than an edge. so bad he forgets nearly every time until he’s already over.

“that's three days added," jimin says cheerfully.

taehyung whimpers. with no reprieve, jimin slides the toy back down.

Chapter Text

Taehyung and Jeongguk get the confirmation text from Jimin almost three hours after the Read had popped up. He likes to make them squirm like that, always but especially so when he’s away; leaving the desperate plea Taehyung and Jeongguk sent in their playtime groupchat this morning after finally breaking on read.

They’d tried to be good, wait as long as they could—but in the end, their companionship was their undoing. Alone, maybe, five days locked without any sort of stimulation could be manageable. Frustrating, but manageable. Left together, though, they just couldn't keep their hands off each other, careful not to break the rules (nothing beyond kissing) or touch where they needed but left so eager to play, tempted by the sight of the other and commiserating about the ache between their legs where their cocks sit caged and locked.

[group]

pup 
sir
im rly horny
we both are….
shjfkdkfnlsdbfnlsd

Read 10:03 a.m.

1:33 p.m.

sir
well that didnt take long
when i’m not there?
that's greedy

baby 
:(
we’ve been good
can we play

pup 
pls pls pls

baby 
🥺🥺🥺

sir
hmm
ok, sure
be good for me

pup 
AAAAHHH YESSS
thank you so much sir

baby 
!!!!!!!
thank you sir
we will

sir
you’re welcome
my boys 😘

Jimin doesn’t need to specify what he means by be good. They both know they’re not allowed to come.

So they end up on the bed, nearly sprinting to each other after getting the confirmation text to fall into each other with a mess of desperate kisses and touches traced everywhere.

They know that in the end, it may be even worse. To be allowed to play only to be left ultimately unsatisfied. But the need warps logic, easily bringing them to the unanimous decision to do anything to take the edge off, even just for a little while and worry about the consequences after.

Privately, Jeongguk thinks Taehyung may have it worse. He’d been bad before Jimin left, bratty and touched without permission and taunted Jimin for it, but they’d thought Jimin had let it go after a spanking.

See, they’ve got a routine established for Jimin’s trips away. They love to be locked up for it, reminded of his ownership and unable to touch even if they broke and wanted to disobey—but in turn, Jimin always lets them come before the lock is shut for the duration of his trip.

This time, though, he’d told Taehyung to count down to his orgasm and beg. Then he’d ruined it, left Taehyung still twitching when he’d iced him down, lubed him up and slid the steel over his cock. Then he’d made Taehyung watch as he’d brought Jeongguk to a lovely climax with his mouth, and threatened that maybe next time, he’d think before he played with what didn’t belong to him anymore.

So Taehyung has been desperate since long before Jimin had left. It shows in the way he pushes Jeongguk back down onto the bed, ruts the cruel steel of his cage against Jeongguk’s leg and whines into his mouth. His kiss is sloppy and wet as he moves down across Jeongguk’s jaw, neck, fumbles fingers to shove up his shirt and continue down openmouthed.

“Tae,” Jeongguk whines when Taehyung bites at his stomach, begins to work his pants undone. “Ngh, you’re—I’m—”

“Please,” Taehyung whines, touch fluttering across Jeongguk’s briefs. He breathes hot against the fabric where the outline of the metal presses out. “Need it. Need to—be good.”

The sensation—nothing, and yet so teasingly much—has Jeongguk’s head falling back, legs spreading unconsciously. “Service slut,” he pants, huffing a laugh. It quickly twists into a moan when Taehyung bites at his thigh, spurred on by the term Jimin so loves to taunt Taehyung with.

It’s not a harsh bite. They both know it’s true.

Taehyung tugs down Jeongguk’s briefs with little fanfare; Jimin is the one who teases, who works them down into nothing with the lightest of touches everywhere except where they want it. In contrast, the two of them are desperate, and knowing this is all for nothing, that they’ll still be left locked and wanting at the end, riles them up even more. This is a messy fall-together, far from the heights they reach under Jimin’s calculated torments.

“T-Tae, what are you—oh—” the question curls upward into a thick moan as Taehyung wraps his lips around the cage. It’s terrible, just hot breath and the tip of a devilish tongue poking in between the rings, and looking down is even worse. Because the sight of Taehyung going down on him, suckling devotedly at the metal of the cage while Jeongguk can barely feel anything, nearly drives him crazy.

“Tae,” Jeongguk chokes out again, hands scrabbling desperately in the sheets. Taehyung’s nails dig into his thighs, and that has him crying out, a sharp “Taehyung!”

“Gukkie, please,” Taehyung whines, pulling off to nuzzle at the base of the cage. He’s filthy with his mouth, spits at Jeongguk’s balls and laves his tongue generously. His eyes are already glazing when he starts to mouth at where the the cage ends; both Jeongguk and Jimin often marvel just how deep he loses himself in oral service.

But god, is it torture. Jeongguk can’t take much more than a few minutes, reduced to begging Taehyung—he’s not sure for what, whether to show him mercy or never stop.

“M’gonna tell Jimin—” he pants out, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the sheets, “That you’re teasing me. That you’re being bad.”

The response is pretty much immediate. Taehyung draws back just enough to pout up at Jeongguk. Chin messy with spit, the effect would be comical if it weren’t so tantalizing. Jeongguk tugs at his shoulders, and Taehyung relents, giving to the pull when Jeongguk tugs him up and rolls him over.

Now Jeongguk’s the one above him, and his mind blanks at the sight of their locked cocks together, only dulled sensation as curved steel clinks against steel and the padlocks shift. They’re both beading precum from what he can see, a slow, clear drip that brings no satisfaction except for the surge of heat in his belly.

Taehyung notices his pause, bucking up his hips. It does more to Jeongguk than it should, considering he can barely feel it. A low moan slips out anyway.

“Take a—” Taehyung chokes out, licking his lips. “Take a picture. For Jimin. For sir.”

Jeongguk’s breath hitches, and he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand even as he starts to gyrate his hips uselessly. Taehyung responds, wriggling his hips up, and god, they both know it won’t help. Barely any feeling filters through, but they’re too desperate to help themselves, lust driving their hips on instinct, directing them to hump and grind away the ache.

Jeongguk can almost hear Jimin’s voice, the one they’ve heard so many times before during scenes like this, a gleeful ‘Pathetic!’   when they’re transformed like this, needy objects that do anything for relief and accomplish nothing more than entertainment for their owner.

The thought works up the speed as he operates the shutter with shaking hands, fumbling to take pictures of their poor caged cocks pressed together. After just a few Taehyung is reaching for him impatiently, tugging Jeongguk down into a sloppy kiss.

“Play with me,” Taehyung mumbles. Jeongguk huffs out a protest, would protest i am if he weren’t licking a stripe across Taehyung’s lips. Taehyung opens his mouth needily and Jeongguk gets the hint, dipping in his tongue and groaning when Taehyung sucks at it.

They make out for a while, slide of their lips embarrassingly loud in the quiet room, the only other noise the padlocks shifting against their cages as they circle their hips into each other slowly despite any relief from the motion. They both love the weight of it, he knows; a reminder they’re lovingly owned, that even across the country Jimin is theirs as much as they are his, wears the keys around his neck to think about them as much as they feel the weight of his ownership. That even the frustration is a gift, something to endure with pride.

The only thing that stops them is when Taehyung pinches at Jeongguk’s nipples between them. Jeongguk hisses into his mouth, sitting up and slapping his hands away and looking down at him with a pout.

“Play with me,” Taehyung demands again, hands returning to run down his own chest indulgently. “M’wanna—Gukkie, please.”

So Jeongguk slides off Taehyung’s hips, gesturing for him to flip over. Taehyung scrambles to his knees, leaning forward on his arms, ass up in the air before Jeongguk.

Jeongguk lets out a shuddering breath at the sight. No wonder Taehyung’s been so worked up already—part of his punishment had been to wear a plug and stretcher for three hours each day. He’s already started that time this morning, because the stainless steel of one of their biggest plugs and a stretcher below the ring of the cage winks at Jeongguk when Taehyung arches his back.

Almost reverently, Jeongguk reaches out, traces a light touch across Taehyung’s cheeks and down his thighs. He trails one finger down Taehyung’s balls, heavy with the stretcher below the cage with wide eyes.

And Taehyung shivers, squirming. “Please,” he pants out, breath already ragged. “Play with me.”

“Sir said you were bad,” Jeongguk whispers, letting the rest of his fingers join to circle with a barely-there touch. “I didn’t realize how pretty—fuck. Your punishment’s so—you look so hot.”

Taehyung whines, burying his face in the sheets. The motion arcs his back further, and Jeongguk marvels when he starts to pull so slowly on the plug at an angle, entranced by how Taehyung’s rim catches on the bulb. Just as it’s almost out, he pushes it back in. Taehyung cries out, hitting a fist against the bed.

“C’mon!” he demands again, deep voice breaking up into a high whine. “You’re teasing me— who’s the bad one now, huh?”

In response Jeongguk slaps his ass, scratches nails down his thigh and reaches back for his phone. Taehyung curses him again, but stills hearing the shutter click, click.

“M’not bad,” Jeongguk says stubbornly, “Sir’s gonna be happy I showed him how pretty you look. Taking his punishment. Bet you love it, too.”

He’s hit a nerve, because Taehyung keens, muffling the noise into the sheets. He wiggles his ass back, cage swaying temptingly, and Jeongguk can’t resist anymore. He takes mercy, begins to work the plug out again with a slow twist. And god, Taehyung must have used as much lube as he could to feel as much as possible, because he’s practically dripping. Hypnotized, Jeongguk circles his rim with one finger, slips it in, then two, then three. Taehyung’s hole swallows it up greedly, the sight enthralling. Jeongguk can only imagine what his face looks like as he fucks them in.

Then pulls them out.

“Jeonggukie,” Taehyung almost growls, voice roughed out, “You don’t even know what m’ gonna do to you if you don’t stop teasing me.”

“Like you teased me earlier?” Jeongguk returns, hooking his thumbs and stretching Taehyung out. It cuts off Taehyung’s retort into a groan, breaking back down into a plea as Jeongguk presses a single kiss to his rim, flicks his tongue a few times. Then pulls back again. Taehyung hits the bed again.

“M’ gonna slap your stupid cock,” Taehyung sobs out, his thighs trembling when Jeongguk scratches nails across his ass again. “Gunna feel it through the cage—please, please, eat me out, please—”

Jeongguk spits on his hole. “No.”

That seems to be the breaking point. Taehyung pushes himself back up, shuffling fast to grab at Jeongguk, wrestle him down. He tugs Jeongguk back into a biting kiss, catches lip between his teeth and licks out sloppily against his mouth before lowering his head to bury his face against Jeongguk’s neck.

“M’so fucking horny,” he moans into Jeongguk’s shoulder, “Nothing helps.”

“I know,” Jeongguk empathizes, breath coming fast. He’s dizzy with it, has been for a while. He doesn’t even know how hard he’d be if the cage weren’t keeping his cock to a horridly repressed curve. “Everything feels so… but we gotta be good. T-Two days left.”

“We’re so fucked,” Taehyung mumbles.

“Actually, we’re not. That’s kinda the point.”

Taehyung shoves at him good naturedly. They both roll onto their backs, tucked close and breathing hard. It’s hard to come down when there’s no release.

“I’ll get my plug back in,” Taehyung sighs. A pause, “Wanna make out some more? That’s allowed.”

“That's definitely not gonna help us,” Jeongguk murmurs. Then, “Yeah. Definitely.”

Later, showered and curled close watching a movie, Jeongguk remembers to send the pictures he’d taken. A lot are shaky, but there’s enough good ones to pass along in their groupchat, ones they look over together hungrily. Jimin’s response is pretty instant.

baby 
thank you so much sir
[image_attached]
[image_attached]
[image_attached]
[image_attached]

pup 
yes thank you
it was so good
frustrating but good 

sir
oh?
you’re welcome
looks like my boys had fun
stay nice and frustrated for me
can't wait to play with you soon

baby
yessss we had so much fun
just two days right?
and you’ll be backk

sir
mhm, i’ll be back friday
you think you’ve been good?

pup 
YES!!
sorry
ahem
yes.

baby
hsfsdf
yes i hope
tae was ssooo good
he looked so pretty n punished

pup 
gukkie was better !!
he teased me rly good
ive learned my lesson sir :(

sir
cutie
we'll see
i miss my boys
working should be illegal

pup 
 we miss you too

baby
isnt ooc supposed to go in our main chat
but we miss you too :(
quit and make marx proud

sir
who’s gonna pay for your toys then huh?

baby
damn… tru
we’re needy

sir
you’re lucky i love it
you can play tmrw too
only 15 mins
i want video this time

pup 
YESSSSS

baby
tHANK YOU !!!!

sir
<3
goodnight
love you
(sluts)

pup 
!! hng
love youuu

baby
love you too

[<3]

Chapter Text

Once his flight lands, Jimin doesn’t have to wait long. He’s just stepped off into the baggage claim, and there they are, Taehyung and Jeongguk bundled up and scanning the crowd for him. Their faces light up when they see him, and all three trip into a half-run, hugging once reunited.

“We missed you!” Taehyung is saying dramatically, tugging at Jimin’s scarf. A little more reserved, but eyes glowing, Jeongguk asks, “How was your flight?”

“I was only gone a week,” Jimin laughs, but knows the fondness shows on his face and in his voice. Biting his lip, an idea occurs to him: and he tosses his hair back, adjusts his collar so that the chain on his neck falls out to rest atop the fabric of his shirt. Like clockwork, both Taehyung and Jeongguk’s eyes fall to where small keys glitter on the necklace.

“I’m glad to hear how much you missed me, though,” Jimin teases, batting his lashes. “Why don’t you carry my bags to the car and we’ll get home and see what I can do about that?”

The drive—isn’t tense, not exactly. His boyfriends are always easy to get going, and after their week Jimin knows just the sight of the keys had probably gotten them salivating. But they’re good, don’t mention it as they drive, instead talking casually and catching up, sharing stories from his trip.

Until, as Jeongguk begins to make the lane switch to enter the highway, Jimin directs him elsewhere.

“Why don’t we take surface streets today?” Jimin suggests, tilting his head. In the front seat, both Taehyung and Jeongguk look at each other. “Take the scenic route home for me after traveling. It’s been a while since we have.”

Taehyung gets it first, groaning. “Jimin.”

“Yes?” Without meaning to, Jimin feels himself begin to smirk, and offsets it with an innocent raise of his eyebrows.

Jeongguk realizes, “That’s going to take an extra hour to get home…”

“Aw, but you said you missed me?” Jimin posits faux innocently. “Let’s take our time catching up with a nice drive. What could possibly be driving you to want to get home so quickly?”

“You’re a menace,” Jeongguk grumbles as he takes the new course. Taehyung groans, and Jimin giggles.

“Now, where were we? Ah, that’s right, the dinner party—”

Of course, they do (eventually) arrive home. Jimin stretches leisurely walking up the path, in no particular hurry but smirking at the way Jeongguk and Taehyung take his bags out of his hands and all but jog up to the front door. Squirming as Jimin fusses pretending to pat around looking for his keys, then going through each key on the ring individually before getting to the one for the front door, so slowly that the two look like they might pass out or strangle him or both.

“It’s good to be home,” Jimin sighs appreciatively as they step through the doorway and kick off their shoes. Almost immediately, as soon as the door clicks back shut, they’re red faced and looking at him pleadingly. Jimin considers, rolling his neck on his shoulders.

“Now aren’t those lovely expressions,” he admires, “You know, if there’s something you need, you should just say so.”

Taehyung and Jeongguk glance at each other. Jeongguk bites his lip, and Taehyung says first, “Jimin, we’ve been really good.”

“We have,” Jeongguk agrees, a little shyer. “And we were thinking—well, hoping—that maybe, if you felt—if you agreed, you might—“

“Might what?” Jimin interrupts with a drawl, raising an eyebrow. Even the shift in his stance does wonders, Taehyung worrying his hands together.

“Could we be unlocked?” he says, low voice honey sweet and hopeful. Internally Jimin coos, but keeps his expression schooled into the neutral cool mask they love.

“Oh, that’s what you want,” Jimin pretends to realize, tapping a finger to his chin. “What, after begging me to lock you up while I’m gone? You regret that?”

“Not at all!” Jeongguk bursts, the two of them shaking their heads. “S’just—you know, we miss you…”

“As you’ve said,” Jimin notes boredly. “And of course I missed my boys, but what does that have to do with your cages?”

The word finally spoken elicits a visible shiver from Taehyung. Jimin has to bite down the inside of his cheek to keep from making an appreciative sound. The two of them are both blushing a furious red, clearly just a few words from dropping to his knees to beg. Just how he likes it.

“We thought we might,” Taehyung whispers, “all of us, get to…”

After a moment, Jimin hums. “I’m only gone a week,” he says. “and you two are this desperate, huh? Still can’t use your words, though.”

That finally breaks Jeongguk. “Please unlock us,” he all but pleads, head ducked but keeping eye contact. “Please play with us, Jimin.”

“Hm,” Jimin considers. They stand tensed, as he runs his eyes over them calculatingly for a minute. Then, “Strip for me.”

It’s fun to watch the scramble to peel off their clothes, but they love it even more when Jimin acts like he barely cares. So after a couple seconds he leaves them to it to go into the bedroom, digging out his favorite flogger and the small combination box left atop the nightstand drawer while he’d been gone. He doesn’t unlock it, just brings it back out.

In that time Taehyung and Jeongguk have stripped, clothes hastily tossed aside. Jimin clicks his tongue.

“Now that’s just sloppy,” he scolds. “Is this how you convince me you deserve to be unlocked? By making a god damn mess? And practically on our doorstep. Pick those up. Fold ‘em, too.”

Apologies stream out of their mouths each as they collect their clothes, shamefully working to fold them and set them aside neatly. It's an adorable, domestic contrast to their naked-but-for-steel bodies, a thrill going through Jimin at the power he has over them. The power they give him.

“That’s better,” Jimin sighs when they finish. “I leave for a week, and you forget your manners…”

“Nuh-uh, we haven’t, Jiminie,” Taehyung protests, then shrinks at the raised eyebrow he gets. Jeongguk elbows his side.

“Haven’t given me much reason to think otherwise, baby,” Jimin shrugs. “Pose for me. Show me what I missed.”

He doesn’t have to specify that one. It’s their agreed, favorite position; Taehyung and Jeongguk instantly turn to one another, a meter apart. Legs spread just so, and hands kept up behind their heads, looking into each other’s eyes as Jimin starts to walk around them.

“Very nice,” Jimin murmurs appraisingly. He flutters touches as he circles them—a pinch here, a slapped ass there. Inspecting them. Taehyung’s breath hitches as Jimin pulls his cheeks apart to let them bounce back, Jeongguk whimpers when Jimin digs a nail between the rings of his cage. Despite the minutes of small, exposed torments they stay firm, well trained. Proudly, Jimin steps back.

“Mm, very nice,” he repeats. Both Taehyung and Jeongguk murmur thanks. “I suppose it has been a while since we had some… fun. Still want to play?”

Jimin can tell they recognize the tone in his voice, just a second’s hesitation at what might be running through Jimin’s mind. But they both agree with rapid nods.

“Good boys,” Jimin praises freely. “Face me.”

They turn accordingly, poses still held. Jimin turns back to where he’d discarded the small combination box, picking it up and shaking it when their eyes land on it. The clink of metal is audible as the keys shake around inside.

“You know what this is, right?” Jimin asks cheerfully. Of course they do; he’d made a show of dropping the duplicate keys in the safe right in front of them before he’d left, and placed it right atop the nightstand so they could see it every day, sleep beside it every night. Still, they both nod obediently.

“Of course you do,” Jimin puts on a voice like he’s scolding himself, how silly of him to have forgotten. “Tell me, how did it feel looking at it while I was gone?” They whimper, and he continues taunting them, giving the safe another shake. “Knowing how close your relief was to you. In this safe by the bed the whole time.”

Whimpers continue to spill out of the two of them, shameful admissions and small, barely noticeable squirming. Jimin interrupts with a cruel laugh, laughing right at them, and chucking the safe back down onto the sofa behind him like it’s nothing.

“Needy sluts,” Jimin teases, going for the flogger instead. “You wanted to play? Well, let’s play.”

With a circle of his finger, he has them face each other again. For a minute he simply circles, giggling when he raises his hand and the two of them tense to prepare themselves. Runs the tails of the flogger over their skin as well, dangles it tantalizingly over their caged cocks.

His first hit is a precise whip down between the two of them, giggling again at both their flinches. Still they’re trained enough not to dance away, just let out shaky exhales they’d been holding and whine.

“Alright, alright, I know,” Jimin acquiesces after a bit. “I promised you some fun, didn’t I?”

The sounds he elicits from them as he flogs them are intoxicating. They squirm, shake, moaning when Jimin brings the tails down to snap against their flesh, sniffling and thanking Jimin profusely when he coos at their reactions. They almost sob when he orders them to kiss each other as he flogs them, to “Put on a pretty show for me,” then snaps the flogger down on their caged cocks. All until their chests and asses are painted a pretty, splotched pink, skin a pleasant burn.

“What do you say?” Jimin asks when he decides he’s done, flexing his wrist. “You wanted attention. It's work to upkeep you two, you know?”

“Thank you, thank you,” the two of them peal out, foreheads still pressed close and lips bitten kiss red. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for flogging us.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Jimin sighs. “Now, let’s see. You two are so lovely with your teamwork, of course, but I wonder—who wants to be unlocked first?”

Their eyes widen, glancing to each other with ragged breath. Jimin’s lips twitch, but he keeps the grin back at the sudden uncertainty.

After a few seconds, Taehyung wavers, “R-Rock… paper scissors… ?”

They all stare at each other. Then Jimin can’t keep back a laugh, throwing himself bent down in half at the suggestion. When he looks back up they’re grinning too even in their held poses, Taehyung looking mischievously proud.

“Okay, that’s one idea,” Jimin gathers himself back under control, fond like nothing else. A surge of affection, his boys. “Gukkie? What's your suggestion?”

“Mm, I think…” Jeongguk wriggles once, looking down. A little hesitantly he begins, “I think… Taehyungie hyung, has had it worse, sir. Since, you know, he got a ruin before you left… and tasks to do while you were gone.”

“Oh, interesting,” Jimin murmurs, collecting himself one more. He steps closer, tapping two fingers under Jeongguk’s chin to lift his head to face him. “My competitive boy, and you’d let Taetae out first?” Jeongguk hesitates, but then bites his lip, nodding. “But you know, darling,” Jimin continues. “Taehyung earned that. He was bad before I left, remember?”

“I know…” Jeongguk says shyly over Taehyung’s soft whine beside him. “But he’s been really good, sir. Wore his plug n’ stretcher every day like you said, looked so pretty. I think… he’s had it a little worse, with the ruin, so…”

Jimin nods, thumbing at Jeongguk’s cheek. He leans in for a soft kiss, one Jeongguk melts into. “Then we’ll unlock Taehyung first. I’m very proud of you, babydoll.”

Jeongguk glows, murmuring a thank you. Jimin releases the hold on his chin, and turns to Taehyung, who’s staring at Jeongguk with unabashed gratitude on his face. Jimin grabs his chin to yank him to look back at Jimin.

“What do you say to that, pup? Baby here thinks you deserve to be unlocked more than he does,” Jimin croons. “You’re gonna owe him later, you know. Ah, but a service slut like you will just get off doing whatever he's ordered to, won’t you?”

Taehyung blushes darker, but turns wet eyes to look at Jeongguk as best he can out of the corner of his eye while Jimin still holds his chin. “Thank you so much, Gukkie,” he gushes. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Ugh, fuck, you’re both so cute. Missed you so much,” Jimin sighs, releasing his grip on Taehyung’s chin and giving his cheek a light slap. “Both of you, you can relax. Taehyung, kiss baby’s cheek. Tell him how good he is.”

The two lower their arms gratefully, and Taehyung immediately obeys, leaning into press several wet smacks to Jeongguk’s cheek. Jimin joins him for one, stepping up on his toes to kiss Jeongguk’s other cheek at the same time, the skin warm with a blush as a soft giggle escapes Jeongguk. “Thank you,” Taehyung sings to him again, slinging his arms around Jeongguk’s neck as Jimin pulls back to lift the necklace from around his neck.

“Here, darling,” Jimin presses it into Jeongguk’s hand, Taehyung’s key first. “Unlock Taetae. I’m so proud of you. Sweet chaste baby.”

Jeongguk makes a pleased noise, taking the key from Jimin and reaching to begin working Taehyung’s padlock obediently. His brow furrows attractively as he slides the shaft of the cage off and works delicately at the ring, careful not to pinch any skin. Taehyung looks like he can barely keep his hips still, or his hands off himself, when Jeongguk straightens with Taehyung’s cage in his hands. At a dismissive gesture from Jimin he sets it beside the safe—and then with a sad look at the keys, hands the necklace back to Jimin.

“Soon,” Jimin promises him sweetly, looping the chain around his hand. Then he firms his voice. “Tae, on your knees. Guk, get me a drink, why don't you? The Cabernet. Since you've decided to stay locked up a bit longer, you can take Taehyung's place, hah.”

Jeongguk shivers and turns to the kitchen with a nod. Left behind Taehyung obeys as well, dropping into a kneel. Jimin takes a seat on the sofa, spreading his legs with arrogant confidence and tipping his head back. He catches Taehyung’s eye, a little pouty—he's the one who gets off on ordered domestic service, as they never fail to stop teasing—and snorts.

“Don’t look at me like that, Tae,” he teases, “You’ll get a chance to be good too soon enough.” Jimin notes pleasedly he’s sitting on his hands, keeping his touch away from himself even unconsciously. Learned his lesson from the week's punishment, it seems. Jimin leans forward, pitching his voice loud enough for Jeongguk to hear from the kitchen.

“You know, that was a sweet thing baby did for you,” he says. Taehyung nods in rapid agreement, lip between his teeth. Idly Jimin pokes a finger at his freed, by-now hard cock while he waits for Jeongguk, grinning at the soft exhale from Taehyung. Almost boredly as he wraps his hand around the length just once, unmoving and the lightest clinical touch, appreciating the art he thinks with a private laugh. Taehyung already looks blissed, and Jimin remembers how needy he must be by now. That’s almost certain judging by the betrayed look on Taehyung’s face when he pulls his hand away and sits back up as Jeongguk comes back into the room.

Smiling, Jimin takes the stemless glass Jeongguk holds out for him, poured to a couple notches above the standard level for a glass of wine. They know him too well. Jimin pats his knee, “Thank you, baby. C’mere.”

So Jeongguk sits between Jimin’s legs, shyly at first, curled in on himself, likely feeling exposed. Jimin’s still fully dressed, and the two of them stripped down; Jimin makes a displeased noise and pulls gently at him, until Jeongguk settles more comfortably against his chest.

“Mm, I missed my boys,” Jimin sighs, taking a sip and nosing into Jeongguk’s neck appreciatively. Jeongguk sighs softly, head just tipping back onto Jimin’s shoulder. When Jimin lifts his hand to his mouth, Jeongguk opens it obediently; takes the chain of the necklace in his teeth, key dangling.

“Taetae,” Jimin hums, “Why don’t you show Gukkie how grateful you are to him?”

Like he’d been waiting for it, Taehyung shuffles forward to settle back on his knees more closely. He puts a hand on each of Jeongguk’s knees, and pulls them apart gently to spread his legs over Jimin’s lap. He doesn’t tease so much as worship, avoids the steel caging Jeongguk’s cock to kiss up his inner thighs.

“You wanna be unlocked, baby?” Jimin murmurs into Jeongguk’s ear after a sip of wine, nipping at his neck. With his free hand he reaches under Jeongguk’s arm and thumbs at a nipple. “Tell me what you want.”

“Hnh, yes, yes,” Jeongguk pleads through teeth still gritted around the chain of the necklace. He wriggles on Jimin’s lap between the two of their touches, and Jimin giggles, taking another sip. “Hhpleashe, sir, unlock me.”

“Hm. Hold this,” Jimin croons, and Jeongguk takes the glass back from him obediently, even as he trembles from Taehyung’s attentions between his legs. Jimin holds his hand out below his chin, and Jeongguk slackens his jaw to let the chain and key drop into his palm.

Jimin doesn’t waste time unlocking the padlock. But then he stops, smirk growing on his face and weighing the metal in his hand. Jeongguk squirms, small noises escaping.

“What, is that not all you wanted?” Jimin pretends, squeezing a grip around the shaft and balls still secured in an unlocked cage.

“Please, I—” Jeongguk’s hips shudder up when Taehyung kisses the back of Jimin’s hand, then sucks a hickey into Jeongguk’s thigh. “Please, I want—it off.”

“Off? Huh, I could’ve sworn you only asked for it unlocked…” Jimin muses. He kicks out, nudging Taehyung’s dick. Taehyung’s tongue practically wags out his mouth. “Slut, did you hear anything different?”

“Mmn, he only asked for it unlocked—” Taehyung agrees obediently. Jimin squeezes his hand again, and Jeongguk whimpers. “Aw, sir, c'mon, he’s desperate. He’s not thinking right.”

“I suppose not,” Jimin plays along with a sigh like it’s so bothersome, “Look at the two of you. I leave for a week and come back to two emptyheaded sluts. Even let you play and you’re still so fuckin’ needy. Practically useless to me—doesn't even matter which one of you I fuck, if you're gonna be so... single minded, can't even share what you want properly, do you disagree?”

“Nooo, I’ll be clearer,” Jeongguk promises in a whine. The wine level in the glass sloshes comically as his hands shake. “Please, sir, take off the cage, please. That's what I want, please.”

“See, was it so hard to use your words?” Jimin coos, pinching at Jeongguk’s cheek. “All right. Taehyung, take off his cage. Don’t touch him aside from that.”

Again Jeongguk whines to hear the second part of the order, but his head falls back in relief anyway when Taehyung works the shaft and ring free. He looks longingly as Jeongguk’s cock grows, lips parting, but stays back obediently.

“Good boys,” Jimin murmurs, taking the glass back from Jeongguk’s hand. “Baby, you were so good, letting Taetae get free before you and waiting, yeah? And now you know to use your words properly, to get what you want?” Jeongguk nods his head rapidly, breathing hitched. “So use your words. Tell me how you want us to play tonight. That’s your reward.”

Jeongguk’s sigh shudders out his lips instantly. “I—” he chokes on it, thinking. Both Jimin and Taehyung reach to soothe him, Taehyung running hands up Jeongguk’s thighs, Jimin a comforting circle at his side. Finally, he starts, shyly, “There… is something Taehyung and I talked about, this week, while you were gone…”

“Oh?” Jimin prompts, interested in the way Taehyung’s eyes light up. “Go on, baby. You’ve earned it.”

“It was… well, we thought, maybe…” Jeongguk closes his eyes a second, collecting himself, then in a rush, “Taehyung and I wanted to—fuck you. The two of us, together. Sir.”

They both tense momentarily, ready to read Jimin’s reaction. Jimin can barely bite back a groan, lids fluttering, grip on Jeongguk’s waist tightening.

“I think that can be arranged,” Jimin purrs, downing the rest of his wine and setting the glass aside. He slaps at Jeongguk’s side, gesturing for him to get up and then kneel back down beside Taehyung, finally letting his grin curl across his lips. They look up at him, enchanted. “Let’s see, how best to begin…”

And he thinks it’s fair, what he decides. A bit later Jimin drizzles lube across his fingers and plays with himself slowly, working up to opening and relaxing to stretch himself out. Before him, Jeongguk and Taehyung rut their hips against each other frantically, finally relieved: coming hard on each others’ stomachs, eager from Jimin’s command to put on a show for him to fuck himself open to because you need to be able to last more than two minutes in me, you know.

“Good boys,” Jimin purrs the encouragement, notes how their hips speed at it. “Keep going. Show me how good you’re gonna be for me. We’re just getting started.”

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, Taehyung was shy. Less confident asking for what he wanted in the bedroom, and modest about showing himself once inside it.

But, Jimin reflects, over time the growing familiarity between them opened them both up to each other so well that they almost can move as one unit, no matter who’s playing what role, or if there’s even roles to play that night. All in all, there’s not much they keep from each other, certainly not when it comes to the realm of their sexuality.

Jeongguk, however, is newer to their dynamic. Though, Jimin’s come to realize, none the less freaky for it. He fits in, and has caught up, with Taehyung and Jimin well, his wide eyes and delicate features masking an almost terrifyingly kinky side. It takes barely one whispered slut to have his eyes glazing and mouth dropping even in public—something Taehyung and Jimin can attest to, per Jeongguk’s request.

Today’s scene is another one of Jeongguk’s requests. They’d negotiated it for a while, and Jimin had insisted on smaller scenes incorporating elements to warm up to; time spent immobilized, experiences with sensory deprivation, exercises with all three of them to practice how to respond to different safety cues. Testing the limits of what they could get away with in regards to endurance and more. Maybe not all entirely necessary, but he’s always been a stickler for safety first, safety second, orgasm third.

The culmination is that now they’ve combined all the elements Jeongguk requested into one scene. Jimin’s proud, honestly, at the nasty dungeon mess that came from their newest addition’s mind. And he knows Taehyung, with his blossoming sadistic streak, is especially excited. Even if Jeongguk has no way of seeing how hard he is in his pants.

Because he can’t. He’s not just immobilized, today, but blinded as well. The hood has been one of his favorite additions to their games—both Taehyung and Jimin whine it deprives them of seeing his pretty face and eyes, but Jeongguk loves it. He’s a faceless, limbless thing, mummified in bondage tape and hooded, on his back on the floor. Left like that, as Taehyung and Jimin moved freely around him, even rested their feet on top of him like nothing more than a piece of furniture.

Now Jimin’s sitting up on his chest, poking interestedly at the hood while Taehyung jerks Jeongguk to full hardness behind him. The only parts of Jeongguk free are his hands poking out at his sides, his feet, and cock and balls, all perfect targets for torture.

“He’s got hard so fast, Minnie,” Taehyung marvels behind him. The slick sound of his hand pauses, replaced then by the unmistakable sound of skin hitting skin, a smack when Taehyung hits Jeongguk’s cock. Jeongguk jerks with it, as much as he can, anyway, breathing huffing faster through the slits in the nose of the hood.

“Hold still, slut,” Jimin drawls a complaint, smirking privately. Almost giggling at the way he’d been rocked sitting up on Jeongguk’s chest when their boyfriend spasmed, but without sight Jimin only has to school his voice, not expressions. “Lie still and take it. Don’t be fuckin’ ungrateful. You know how much I spent on all this nice bondage tape? Not to mention the time wrapping you up,  just so you could get off?”

Jeongguk makes a whimpering sound of apology. At least, Jimin thinks that’s what it is. It’s kind of hard to tell; after all, Jeongguk has a ring gag in, and the mouthpiece of the hood buckled over it. Maybe an unconventional thing to be endeared by, but Jimin finds it adorable.

Idly he pinches Jeongguk’s nose. It’s maybe ten seconds before he’s squirming, leather of the hood creaking as he tries to toss Jimin’s hand off and his face away to suck in a breath.

“He sounds so cute, too,” Jimin tells Taehyung, “All muffled and locked away. I love it—listen to this.”

Jimin releases his hand, and Jeongguk arches as best he can, sucking in and panting out noisy breaths. The sounds are made obviously audible through the slits of the hood.

“Oh? His dick got harder too,” Taehyung chuckles. “He likes struggling as much as we like watching it.”

“Is that right? You like being kept like this?” Jimin murmurs, leaning down. Self indulgently, he kisses against the hood where Jeongguk’s mouth lies gagged beneath, mouthing at the leather and smiling at the faint increase of Jeongguk’s rapid breaths. “It gets you off, doesn’t it? Being so helpless. You only breathe because I let you, baby.”

As if to emphasize his point, Jimin pinches his nose again. Jeongguk makes a strangled noise, head just barely shaking back and forth. Jimin just keeps kissing where his mouth might be, and only lets him gasp again after cooing, “Poor baby. Can’t even feel my kisses.”

Another shuddered inhale makes its way through the mask when Jimin releases. Behind him, Taehyung laughs.

“He can feel here, too,” he says, squeezing Jeongguk’s cock and tugging it side to side mockingly. “That’s not the only place, though…”

Jimin snorts, doesn’t need to look to know Taehyung’s crawling down Jeongguk’s body. He gets confirmation enough at the shiver Jeongguk gives, violent enough it’s felt through the tape, when Taehyung grazes his hands over Jeongguk’s feet.

“Mm, you’re in for it now. It’s only safe in here, isn’t it, doll?” Jimin asks Jeongguk, tapping the side of the hood. “Any place you’re exposed is just somewhere we can use to make you cry. You’re gonna be begging us to lock all of you up and away.”

Jeongguk’s muffled moan matches the shift of the leather as he tries to squirm. Glancing over his shoulder, Jimin sees Taehyung’s bent to lick a stripe up one of Jeongguk’s soles then wrapping his lips around his big toe. He catches Jimin’s eye and winks.

Jimin rolls his eyes at him, turning back with a grin. Jeongguk is blissfully unaware of their nonverbal exchanges, and has bigger things to worry about, really. They’re still barely getting started, but Jimin knows it’s been just long enough that the sensory deprivation is heightening Jeongguk’s senses, narrowing the scope of his attention to the few places of skin that’s exposed, that he can feel, and maximizing their sensitivity.

The longer he stays wrapped immobile and blinded, the more it’s going to become his entire awareness. Right now, Taehyung and Jimin are his entire world.

Jimin’s been playing in the lifestyle for years, but never quite gets used to the flush of heat and rush of affection he feels when he thinks about how Jeongguk has trusted them to guide him through this.

So he does.

“Anything you feel, you feel because we let you,” Jimin tells Jeongguk, smoothing his palms down either side of the hood in a mockery of cupping Jeongguk’s cheeks in his hands. He rocks Jeongguk’s head side to side, flicks at his forehead and lets his voice drop hypnotically. “You breathe because we allow it. You see when we decide to let you. You only feel where we want to play with you,” Jimin leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, and whisper secretively, “But right now you don’t need any of that. I think I just want your mouth.”

It takes all Jimin’s willpower not to coo when he unbuckles the mouthpiece of the hood and peels it back. The top part remains on, shielding Jeongguk’s eyes effectively, but his mouth is freed—well, exposed to the air, at least. Jimin’s not sure free is a good word to use, considering the way his lips are stretched around the metal of the ring gag. Jimin traces a finger around them leisurely, and spits in.

“He sounds so good,” Taehyung sighs, head tilted just the same as Jimin. Jeongguk’s sucked-in breaths are wet and loud with the mouthpiece pulled back. “I can’t wait ‘til he’s crying.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to do,” Jimin says over Jeongguk’s openmouthed whine. He shifts off Jeongguk’s chest for a second, just to turn around before reseating himself. Still sat up on Jeongguk’s stomach, but now facing toward his feet and Taehyung. “We’re not exactly known for our mercy, Tae.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Taehyung agrees cheerfully, as he presses a nail into Jeongguk’s left sole. Jeongguk’s gasped breath is one of apprehension, his toes wiggling. It can’t feel like too much, at least not yet, but the threat is enough. “You ready, Jiminie?”

Jimin shares a grin with Taehyung, and a silent nod. Below him, Jeongguk still waits for Jimin’s end of the exchange—then makes a choked sound of surprise as Taehyung dances fingers down the arches of his feet, snickering. Jeongguk gasps, and struggles to twist, but the mummifying restraints keep him still aside from some rocking that Jimin easily pins down.

“You’re ours to keep now, Jeonggukie,” Taehyung teases over the choked pleas and giggles coming interchangeably. “What, would you rather we ignored you? What’s a little torture, when it comes to pleasing your masters?”

Jeongguk’s groan at that is rough. Jimin smirks imagining his eyes rolling back, and takes Jeongguk’s dick in his hand.

“Shit, Tae, you’re right, he is hard,” Jimin admires. He taps a finger to the head of Jeongguk’s cock, tapping thoughtfully, letting a nail stray. “Does it feel good to be our doll, Gukkie? You like being our toy?”

Maybe Jeongguk might try to respond. Jimin thinks he might, that he almost hears the beginning of him trying to form words behind the gag. But then Taehyung’s tickling at his soles again, snickering as Jeongguk’s form twists, as he chokes out wet giggles around the gag. Jimin glances back, dips fingers in fondly at the bubbling spit. He brings his hand back to smear it on Jeongguk’s cock.

“Messy slut,” Taehyung comments, poking nails into each of Jeongguk’s toes. He’s still giggling, the sound high and warbled around the metal gag. Taehyung pauses only to grab the thin rope he’s got nearby, and begin looping it around Jeongguk’s big toes. Jeongguk keens a complaint when he realizes Taehyung’s tying them together, keeping him even further restrained and feet restricted straight to take it. “Aw, Jiminie, he’s having such a hard time. I could almost feel bad. You should distract him while I play.”

“Excellent idea, Taetae,” Jimin announces with a clap, picking up the plastic comb and fingering it in his hands. It’s cheap, a drug store staple, but gets the job done. Just like it’ll get the job done here, with its plastic teeth and the thin, pointed end. “Hey, Gukkie, you wanna know why you’re not wearing earplugs?”

Jeongguk garbles something wet around the gag. Jimin glances at Taehyung, lifting an eyebrow, and winks before tilting his head and sweetly saying, “Sorry, baby, what was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Jeongguk groans audibly, and the two of them laugh.

“Well, if you’re gonna be a little bitch about it, I guess I’ll just have to tell you,” Jimin sighs. Taehyung clicks his tongue in mock disappointment, shaking his head. “It’s so you can hear us, of course. I know how wet your dick gets when we talk about you, so I want you to listen to everything we have to say while you can’t do anything about it! Doesn’t that make sense? Aren’t I so kind?”

“Jjhim—nng—” Jeongguk tries to splutter around the gag. It twists up into a cry when Jimin slaps his cock.

“Shut up,” he orders, “You think we wanna listen to you whine? Speak properly or not at all.”

Jeongguk blubbers, drool smearing across his lips where he tries to lick at them. Lifting himself briefly off Jeongguk’s chest to lean his weight instead onto his knees, Jimin reaches where his hands are free and slips a finger into his fist. Jeongguk squeezes back tightly, once, twice, three times. I’m okay. Give me more.

“Whatever,” Jimin sighs, sitting back down on his chest. “Toys don’t talk, anyway.”

It doesn’t take long for Jeongguk to fall apart. At least, as much as he can. He wasn’t exactly comprehensible to begin with, Jimin points out to him, with his lips stretched out around the ring gag like he’s waiting for cock.

But Jimin supposes that’s the power of such a sensitive area, and assault upon it. Jeongguk’s snotty and wailing out his laughter in short time, twisting and sobbing between his giggles as Taehyung and Jimin toy him, both in turn and in tandem.

They love his laugh, always have. It’s even better when it’s pure desperation, more of a plea than anything coherently humorous. And it’s the best now, streaked with tears and intermittent with wails as Jimin boredly pokes the cruel pointed end of the comb into Jeongguk’s cock and balls.

He’s checked their safety three times now, three different ways. Patterns that could only be answered correctly with a lucid mind, not a simple response that could be given out in a haze. Throughout it all, Jeongguk confirms back, and begs gagged more’s and please’s, even though he’s back to screaming for them to stop in the next minute when they resume their treatments.

Jimin’s impressed, honestly. He can last maybe thirty seconds being tickled, doesn’t even know how it would compare up to having his cock and balls poked sharply at the same time while being immobilized. The immobilization is definitely needed, though.

“I wouldn’t kick around so much if I were you, darling,” Jimin advises absently, “You’re just making Taehyung’s dick harder. Oh yes, baby, he’s hard. You know how much he gags for this shit—but really, calm down, would you?”

Taehyung grins at the way Jeongguk stills before biting down on his sole. Sitting above, Jimin traces nails over Jeongguk’s balls before suddenly switching up and wiggling his fingers in a tickling motion. Jeongguk lets loose an agonized laugh, and almost kicks Taehyung in the face.

“Christ, Gukkie, control yourself,” Taehyung complains, sharing a gleefully fond look with Jimin that Jeongguk can’t see. Jeongguk dazedly mumbles out a sound that could pass for one of apology. “Hey, ‘Min, you think he could come like this?”

“No way,” Jimin scoffs, poking Jeongguk’s cock with the end of the comb again. Jeongguk whimpers. “Look. He can’t even keep his dick hard with the tickling.”

Taehyung laughs over Jeongguk’s blabbering of apologetic sounds. “True. He’s gone soft from all our fun. I’d be offended if it weren’t kinda cute.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Jimin laughs, pinching the head between two fingers. “He thought he could be useful to us like this? Pathetic.”

Taehyung voices agreement as he sits up and grabbing hold of the top of one of Jeongguk’s feet. Just to hold still before kneading his fingers in fast, grinning at Jeongguk’s cries at the tickling. Jimin wonders if he can feel all his tears, stuck to his face and mocking him. There’s no way the leather’s absorbed them.

“He said control yourself,” Jimin warns, knowing perfectly well there’s no way Jeongguk can do such a thing. It’s kind of the point of the scene. And the immobilizing restraints. But Jeongguk had made it clear that being challenged, and the helplessness of being unable to rise to it, was a big part of this scene for him. “Tae, do you hear him? You’d think he’s having fun, with how much he’s giggling.”

“He should—hey, we’re not talking to you,” Taehyung interrupts himself to scold, scratching at Jeongguk’s sole when he tries to warble something around the gag, like he could possibly contribute to the conversation. “Keep quiet when you’re not spoken to, slut. Where was I—? Oh, yeah. He should be having fun, what with us taking time to play with him. That’s what dolls like, right? When they get played with.”

“Too right, Tae,” Jimin laughs, holding out his hand with the comb. When Taehyung takes it, Jimin stands up to pull off his sweatpants and the panties underneath. “In fact, we’ve been paying so much attention to him, I think it’s time he shows some gratitude, don’t you?”

Jeongguk flinches when the fabric hits his cock, before untensing when he realizes it’s not a hit or some other new torture. Jimin sweeps a hand back through his bangs, grinning at it.

“Poor dolly,” he croons, “Lucky enough to get his cock wrapped in Master’s panties and he can’t even see it. Is that enough to get it hard again, dirty boy?”

“It better be,” Taehyung says, patting Jeongguk’s thigh. “Since I’m gonna need you to be my dildo when I wanna get off. Which will be soon. Making you scream is turning me on like nothing else.”

“Don’t distract him,” Jimin cuffs the side of Taehyung’s head lightly. “I want him to be focused. Hear that, Gukkie? You’re gonna get to use that mouth of yours when I sit on your face. Show me you’re happy and make me feel real good, mmkay?” Jeongguk makes a desperate, pleased noise, and Jimin runs a hand down his chest before spreading himself and sitting back with a mutter, “Since he can’t seem to keep quiet on his own, anyway.”

Taehyung licks his lips to watch before seemingly remembering the comb is still in his hand. Jimin holds up a hand for him to wait, first, because it feels so immediately good. Jeongguk’s eager to please, always is but especially after this play. Jimin hums appreciatively at the way he licks up greedily, at the sloppy, wet way he does he best to please even with his lips stretched around a gag and his tongue the only aid he has.

“He’s kinda—mm, worthless without his lips,” Jimin comments breathily. Taehyung’s hands curl, one around Jimin’s cock and the other around Jeongguk’s, stroking steadily. Slowly but surely, Jeongguk’s cock starts to perk back up. “We need to train him to use his tongue better.”

“Aw, don’t be so hard on him,” Taehyung croons loudly, their personal back and forth show for Jeongguk to hear himself be talked about. “He’s only got his tongue right now. How good would you be doing?”

“I’d be amazing, because I’m always perfect, and I do everything right,” Jimin deadpans. Then they both break into grins, and Jimin tips his head back, pleased with the way Jeongguk’s efforts double as they talk about him. His tongue flicks up at his rim before spiking up into Jimin as best he can, and Jimin grinds down. “Isn’t that right, doll? You know I’d make you feel good. So pay it back, bitch.”

Jeongguk makes a weak, muffled noise of affirmation. Jimin lets a soft moan slip, circling his hips and taking his own cock in his hand when Taehyung retreats. He cracks an eye open to watch when he sees Taehyung pick the comb back up.

Jimin can’t help but laugh when Jeongguk wails against him, twisting when Taehyung scratches the teeth of the comb against the arch of his sole.

“Fuck, he sounds so good, screaming like that,” Jimin giggles, and contributes to the torment by tickling his fingers at Jeongguk’s cock again and warning, “Excuse me, no one told you to stop working.”

Jeongguk sobs a gagged apology, flattening his tongue up against Jimin’s hole in shaking motions. His hands clench and unclench, clearly on the edge.

“Aw, Tae, let up a bit, let him get hard again,” Jimin finally sighs on Jeongguk’s behalf. “Look how wrecked he is. Bet there’s not a thought left in his pretty empty head.”

“He’s squirming so cute, though,” Taehyung complains, holding Jeongguk’s feet to dig his thumbnail into each sole. Jeongguk’s toes strain, his bound form wriggling, and cries wetly against Jimin, choking down his drool with a noisy swallow. “I wonder if he’d get used to the tickling, eventually.”

“He’d piss himself first,” Jimin snorts over Jeongguk’s wail, and digs a nail into the head of Jeongguk’s cock, turning his voice sharp. “Don't even think about it. You don’t even wanna know what I’d do to you then, babydoll.”

“Alright, alright,” Taehyung acquiesces, scratching a last time against Jeongguk’s soles before pressing apologetic kisses to each one. His tongue flicks, “Sorry, baby. You’re just so fun to play with.”

Jimin thinks Jeongguk tries to voice a thank you around the gag, when he leans off to give Jeongguk a break for air. Certainly the sentiment is known in the moan he gives off when Taehyung wraps a fist back around Jeongguk’s dick, a moan that grows in strength when Jimin spits on Taehyung’s hand as it works.

“Tae, that’s nasty,” Jimin complains when he sees Taehyung free his cock and slide it against Jeongguk’s soles. Taehyung sticks his tongue out at Jimin before sitting back up on his heels, reaching for the bottle to drip more lube in his hand.

He smears it across the pinkened skin of Jeongguk’s soles, the both of them laughing when Jeongguk jerks and makes a noise from the sensitivity.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay, baby,” Taehyung tells him, working his hands in a massage. Then he lines his cock up, rutting slow against the arches of his soles. “This is just for me.”

“Because you’re ours. So this is ours too, you know?” Jimin follows sweetly, tugging at Jeongguk’s cock in Taehyung’s absence. Taehyung dribbles lube into his hand liberally, tipping the bottle over Jeongguk’s cock while Jimin strokes him to hardness. “C’mon and get nice and hard for us, sweet thing. Taetae wants to ride you, you wanna make him happy, don’t you?”

Again, Jimin slips a finger into one of Jeongguk’s hands. He squeezes back affirmatively, and Jimin thumbs at his knuckles before turning back to his dick.

Jeongguk’s ready almost ridiculously quickly, beginning to stiffen with just a few strokes of Jimin’s hand now that the pleasure is no longer being contrasted with the assault of the torments. Taehyung makes an appreciative noise as he watches, fingering himself open with one hand and fisting Jimin’s discarded panties around his cock with the other.

Jeongguk’s groan when Taehyung sinks down onto his cock has the both of them giggling. “C’mere,” Jimin coos, leaning forward and beckoning Taehyung into a kiss. It’s openmouthed and messy, the two of them panting loud and humming comments for Jeongguk’s benefit.

“Your cock’s so good, splitting me right open, Gukkie,” Taehyung purrs against Jimin’s mouth. “Bet you wish you could watch, huh?”

Jeongguk whimpers. Jimin laughs, grinding down again onto his face. Unspoken both he and Taehyung reach to touch each other everywhere they can, running hands over their chests in between their makeouts, then getting each other off.

“Does it— ah, feel good to be a doll?” Jimin taunts when he gets close, always his most sadistic moment. Jeongguk’s whimper below him is muffled. “Maybe we’ll keep you like this.”

“Fuck, I think he likes that,” Taehyung moans. Jeongguk’s hips had spasmed, jerked up even despite the restricting mummified bondage, an awkward hike up of his hips in a desperate attempt at a thrust. Taehyung’s skin shines with a light sheen of sweat as he bounces on Jeongguk’s cock. “You like the sound of that, baby? Being our doll? Being kept like this, just a warm mouth and dildo to use?”

“We could keep him boxed up when we don’t use him,” Jimin giggles. Jeongguk makes a sound of despair, and Jimin considers, “No? How’s this, then, little dolly can lay tied up on the bed for us. Always pretty and trussed up, cuddled when we sleep, can even listen in when we have sex. That’s the best you get, ngh— being our sex toy—”

Jimin sighs when he comes into Taehyung’s hand, head tipping back prettily. His exhale flutters against his lips as he rides it out, gyrating slowly down on Jeongguk’s tongue before swinging his leg over and climbing off him to sit on his knees beside them, riding a lazy post coital high.

Jeongguk sputters something, stretched lips red and wet around the ring gag. Jimin thumbs at them before slipping one, two fingers in to splay against his tongue idly. Jeongguk laps at them obediently, and makes a soft keen when Jimin asks about freeing his mouth.

“You’re not allowed to come before Taetae,” Jimin reminds him sweetly as he removes the gag. Jeongguk nods best he can inside the hood, licking at his lips and pursing them obediently when Jimin offers him back two fingers to suck on.

Taehyung’s deep voice breaks when he comes, spilling freely across Jeongguk’s taped chest. Newly sensitive, he makes a soft oh face as he continues to rock his hips, thighs trembling.

“C’mon, baby,” he coaxes. Jeongguk shivers. “You deserve it.”

Jeongguk doesn’t last long after that, biting down on his lip and stuttering out a moan as he comes. Jimin soothes him through it, hands cupping his cheeks, and Taehyung sighs sweetly, reaching to spread himself and circle his hips slowly down a few more times before pulling up and off.

“M’gonna grab the scissors, come sit with him,” Jimin murmurs. Taehyung nods, crawling up to prop himself up on his elbow beside Jeongguk, immediately slinging an arm over his chest and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jimin doesn’t wait to hear what he whispers to Jeongguk, pushing himself up to get the blunt scissors safely nearby. When he returns he sits at Jeongguk’s feet, carefully avoiding the sensitive area that had been used and going straight for cutting the tape up along his legs.

“Keep your eyes closed for a few seconds,” Taehyung is instructing Jeongguk as Jimin works up farther with the scissors, cutting Jeongguk out of the bondage. Taehyung unzips Jeongguk’s hood carefully and tugs it off to set aside, immediately pressing his forehead to Jeongguk’s.

Jeongguk opens his eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the light and immediately fixing on Taehyung, who kisses his nose.

“You were so good,” he tells Jeongguk, foreheads still pressed together. Jeongguk’s eyes are wide, a little dazed, and he nods along like Taehyung is his entire world. “You were so good for us. Our best boy.”

Jimin echoes the sentiment with a kiss to Jeongguk’s hair and his own murmured reassurances as he finishes cutting the bondage tape and taking Jeongguk’s limbs in his hands himself, coaching him to stretch them out gently. With the immediate concerns out of the way, Jimin gathers him into his arms up from the floor and carries him to rest on the bed. Both he and Taehyung immediately clamber in after him, Taehyung with his arms full of the snacks and juices they’d left close at hand.

“C’mon and hydrate, baby,” Jimin guides, unscrewing the cap of one of the bottles and tipping it to his lips. “You sweat a lot inside that tape.”

“M’ a sweaty boy,” Jeongguk mumbles, drinking obediently.

Taehyung laughs, pushing up his bangs and kissing his forehead affectionately. “Yes, you are,” he teases as he opens a snack bag and pours some directly into his mouth. The same chaotic energy is harnessed when it’s time to help Jeongguk, instead daintily picking up a piece to feed him by hand.

“You did so good,” Jimin reiterates with a kiss, pushing himself up to work at massaging Jeongguk’s thighs, calves, anywhere he might have strained or gotten stiff. “How are you feeling? You’re okay?”

“Amazing,” Jeongguk sighs blissfully, burying his head against Taehyung’s shoulder. “Everything’s s’perfect. Exactly how I liked. N’ wanted it."

They all stay cuddled close for a while like that, Jeongguk blushing as they shower him with praises. When he breaks his silence again, it makes Jimin's heart swell.

"Thank you," Jeongguk tells them softly. "For the scene. I love you.”

Jimin and Taehyung flash endeared smiles at each other.

“We love you, too,” they reply, always in unison, before curling back close, arms wrapped tight around his waist.

Chapter Text

"Be a good boy now," Jimin reminds, and watches Taehyung tremble.

He's a beauty spread on the floor, silk of his shirt fallen open where Jimin had almost ripped the buttons apart. Exposed to show the heave of his chest as he pants, the pretty pink flush that reaches up his neck and cheeks.

"I will, I will," Taehyung promises, fists clenching and unclenching. Jimin gives him a reassuring smile, running a hand over his hair to brush bangs back from his forehead.

Then he straightens from his squat beside Taehyung, suppressing a snort to watch Taehyung's eyes fall—as expected—to his feet now on eye level. Jimin's always been a fan of making him wait, though, so he feigns ignorance, instead crossing his hands behind his back and walking a slow circle around Taehyung.

The shoes are gorgeous. Thigh-high black leather, thick lacing, a red spiked heel. The click of it is hypnotic with each step he takes, one foot in front of the other, only other sound the loud breaths that betray Taehyung's interest.

After a circle he stops back to the side of Taehyung's head. Taehyung's eyes are wide, cheek pressed to the floor and hyperfocused. Slowly, Jimin lifts one foot above him—just to set it back down, laughing openly at the way Taehyung's breath had audibly hitched.

"You really want this, don't you?" Jimin asks like he doesn't know, like nothing in the world is more amusing. Taehyung nods as frantically as he does each time, hands finding a new home as he digs his nails into his thighs. "Prove it."

"Anything," is Taehyung's immediate response, heady and hoarse. His tongue darts out, licking across his lips once, twice. "Anything, sir."

"Maybe a show for me, before I let you feel these," Jimin muses, tapping his foot barely inches from Taehyung's face. "A pretty little show before I crush your big pretty cock."

The groan slips from Taehyung's lips like a confessional, mouth an erotic oh. "God, please," he swears, shuddering as he brings his hands to his chest, digs a nail into each nipple and drags them down his stomach. "Please, may I—touch myself? For you?"

Jimin lets himself laugh this time, eyes crinkling. Taehyung's eyes, a little glassy, finally lift from the boots to Jimin's face hopefully.

"Oh, baby," is what Jimin says, shaking his head. "You think I care what you do with that useless thing?"

Taehyung's eyes slip shut, sucking in a loud, sharp inhale. The blush on his face deepens, a small sound choked involuntarily from the back of his throat.

Jimin shakes his head, walking slowly back around him. He takes a seat back on the sofa, looks down at Taehyung on the floor below him. "Ask me properly," he decides.

Taehyung bends to the order instantly, eyes opening back, whole body straining not to move. "Please," he begs, looking dizzy, "Let me touch myself. Let me play with myself, for you—"

Jimin interrupts, folding his arms across his chest and mustering his best bored expression staring back down impassively at Taehyung. "Like you mean it."

Taehyung's swallow is visible, eyes fluttering shut for a second. Then— "Please, sir," he tries again, voice meek as could be while wracked with longing. "Please let me touch m-my big, useless cock. It's yours, I'm yours. I don’t deserve it, but I wanna— amuse you, to torture me. Please. Please—"

He continues to babble out, the corners of Jimin's mouth raising in a smile the longer Taehyung goes on. After a minute, "Oh, alright," he finally cuts him off with a laugh, waving a hand. "I can't watch any more. Pathetic. Go ahead, play with yourself."

Now Taehyung's streaming thanks out his mouth as he spreads his legs, shaking hands smoothing back over the scratch marks on his chest to fumble at his zipper. The tug-down of his pants is unceremonious, kicking them aside and letting out a heady sigh to just barely trace fingers over his hardening cock. It's no surprise he's sensitive; he's been untouched for a week, barring the feather Jimin likes to toy at him with. Still, Jimin knows he doesn't need to remind Taehyung he isn't allowed to come, not yet. He's well trained, after all, Jimin's good baby and best toy.

Jimin takes the opportunity of Taehyung's re-closed eyes to lift his foot again. This time when he lowers it, it's onto Taehyung, the sole pressing down onto his cheek and the spike of the heel dangled tantalizingly before his mouth. His eyes fly back open.

"Thank you, sir," Taehyung all but moans a devotional. "Thank you— thank you— thank you."

"You're quite welcome, darling," Jimin replies amusedly, grinding the toe of the boot down. Taehyung doesn't need to verbalize his desire this time, just blinks up through hazy eyes with the question clear in them.

"Aw, baby wants more?" Jimin coos, grin turning sharp the way Taehyung's hands twitch around his cock when he nods and the sole rubs against his cheek. "Bet you wish you could worship them, mm? Crawl around on your knees and stick your ass up like a bitch, slobber all over my nice boots. That's all you ever want, isn't it?"

The first tear slips from Taehyung's eyes as he nods again. Jimin tsk's, tapping his foot against Taehyung's cheek and moving to land the sole closer to his mouth. He can see Taehyung's mouth twitch open instinctively, likely salivating, but he's too well trained to try anything without express permission, even with what he wants pressed against his lips.

"Too bad," Jimin says, and watches Taehyung sniffle. "This is where you belong today. Underneath my feet."

"Yes, sir," Taehyung half-sobs. Jimin watches fascinatedly as he pulls his hands away from himself, twitching from getting too close, to dig nails back into his thighs. "This is where I belong. Underneath you. S-Serving you."

"That's right," Jimin lets himself coo, grin sharpening at the way Taehyung smears precum down his cock when he's backed safely enough away from an edge. "Only I can make you come, you know that, don't you? Stick your tongue out."

Taehyung's tongue lolls as he nods, blinking up tearfully at Jimin—and he's beautiful, face flushed and eyes glazed. He wants, so badly, so Jimin gives; not what he really wants, not completely, but enough to temporarily satisfy as he trails the spike of the heel over Taehyung's tongue. Watches him tremble with want, but too well trained to move a muscle.

Until Jimin gives him a nod, and Taehyung flicks his tongue, eyes slipping shut once more in bliss. He licks up the spike of the heel devoutly, barely hesitates before wrapping his lips around the spike and sucking. Jimin lets it slide, watching drool already pool at the corners of his lips.

"Go on, clean them," Jimin murmurs, gently digging the spike down once before lifting the rest of the shoe before Taehyung's mouth. "You paid for them, after all."

The truth. Taehyung had trembled beside Jimin in Madison Avenue's Louboutin, watched dazedly as an employee fitted the French Tutu line to Jimin's size and as the wireless vibrator buzzed mercilessly inside him. Jimin had noted how his eyes widened upon seeing the Alta model's length up his thighs, and made his decision. He'd beckoned wordlessly and watched Taehyung scramble to pull out his credit card with shaking hands.

The memory is fond enough to have Jimin lift his foot a few inches higher. Taehyung cranes for it. He knows better than to try and lift himself, more than used to rising to Jimin's predicaments. He only whines at the loss, tipping back his chin and straining his tongue up to just flick across the red soles.

"Besides," Jimin continues, more to himself than anything, though it draws a sigh from Taehyung anyway. "You know where they're going."

That's the most warning Taehyung gets before Jimin drags his foot down. Away from his tongue and Taehyung's accompanying whine, across his spit-slick chin, to rest gently but warningly atop Taehyung's throat. Taehyung blinks hazily at him, the bob of his throat meeting the spike of the heel when he swallows.

Jimin watches him like that for a while. "Are you scared?" he questions in a murmur, head tilting.

Taehyung licks across his lips, breath already coming faster. Then—

"Never," he breathes, gives his head a little shake. His bangs slip into his eyes endearingly, but do nothing to dim the absolute trust in them as he says: "Not with you."

The declaration is firm, promise of love woven thick in each word. Jimin can't stop the endeared smile that rises to his face as he looks down at him, and doesn't even try.

He lifts the boot, and when it next comes down, it's to bore the stiletto down into Taehyung's nipple. Taehyung throws his head back, panting, squirming controlled but very much there.

"My good baby," Jimin tells him, voice falling into the soft cadence Taehyung has described to him as hypnotic. "Oh, my darling. My precious mess. Mine."

"Yours," is the word Taehyung latches to as he gasps. Jimin's pleased to see his hand curl back around his dick to sink his nails into the sensitive tip. His thighs quiver, "Yours, Jiminie, sir."

"You like when I hurt you, don't you?" Jimin comments more than questions. He knows the answer. Taehyung does as well, nodding with his teeth bit into his lower lip. "Sweet little painslut. Keep torturing your cock for me, get it nice and warmed up. That's where you really want these lovely boots, isn't it?"

"P-Please," rips from Taehyung's mouth as Jimin toes at his side, taps the toe of the boot against ribs, stomach, hip; only to sob as Jimin draws back away from where he wants it most, and grind the sole back down onto his nipple. "Please, sir, I want it, want it, need it, need you."

"Oh, do you?" Jimin drawls, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not quite convinced. Go on, finish that sentence."

Taehyung looks wrecked, face red hot and eyes swimming as he tries to figure out what Jimin means. It never takes him long, not with their level of familiarity, and Jimin practically sees the gears click into place in his head, as well as the humiliation when he realizes what he wants.

Still, obediently, he begs. "I need you," he says again, the rise and fall of his chest rapid under Jimin's heel. "Need you to—to step on me. Need you to torture me, sir, need you to c-crush my... useless cock."

"That's a smart boy," Jimin whispers, and taps his foot down the softness of Taehyung's stomach. Taehyung's eyes glaze before him. "Spread your legs, doll."

Taehyung's knees fall even farther apart in a second, tongue practically wagging. Jimin toes at his dick first, an experimental dig at the base. Even that alone draws an obscene sound out of Taehyung, his head tipping back and fists clenching at his sides.

"So sensitive," Jimin marvels, and now he pulls his boot away to let Taehyung's hard dick bob back up. He slips his foot underneath, instead, and Taehyung shivers at the soft leather of the top of the shoe, just before the lacing begins. "Tell me, how much did you ache, not being allowed to touch? Did you dream about this? Dream about getting anything, even being stepped on?"

"D-Did it for you," Taehyung gasps, another couple tears slipping out as Jimin lowers his toe for just the right pressure against Taehyung's balls. Still, his legs spread wider. He hiccups, "Makes me happy to—do what you want. Even..."

He chokes off into a gurgle as Jimin steps down with new force, both cock and balls forced down and crushed. It's a wet, pathetic sound, and Jimin knows it's only his excellently trained self control that keeps his hands white-knuckled at his sides, instead of grabbing for his groin.

"What was that?" Jimin asks innocently, sighing when the only response is another babbled sob. "My poor, dumb baby," he all but croons, shaking his head. "So needy, so wet. Your mind just leaks right out of your cock when I step on you, doesn't it?"

"It's—" Taehyung gasps, voice catching in his throat as Jimin grinds down his heel once more. "It's— I'm—?"

"Oh, yes, baby, you're wet," Jimin says, amused. "Dripping, practically. Making a god damn mess all over my nice new boots, what else did you expect?"

Taehyung’s tongue lolls, spit bubbling as he pants. His hands twitch, toward anything, rake up his sides and flutter across his chest.

“Go ahead, you can touch,” Jimin waves a hand before Taehyung asks, and Taehyung gasps a thank you as he dances his nails around his nipples before pinching them, hard. He squirms like that, rolling each between his index and thumb in a futile attempt to distract himself from the way Jimin rubs the boot sole up and down his reddening cock.

His sounds only grow more desperate when Jimin lifts his other foot to step back on Taehyung’s face, an unintelligble mess as one heel works his dick and the other presses back down on his cheek. He laps his tongue desperately at the sole, eyes all but rolling back. Drool drips freely from his mouth as he twitches bodily.

“Are you close?” Jimin asks, watching the spasms of Taehyung’s stomach fascinatedly. Taehyung’s only response is a warbled wail of a moan, his nod accentuating the swell of his lips dragging along the sole of the boot. “That was fast. You’re really going to come from getting your dick stepped on?”

“Pl-ea-se—” The possibility of coming is all Taehyung hears, and hips jerk up at Jimin’s sneer, even as his legs kick in pain. “Oh, pl… please, may I? Please, please? Please—”

“You know you’ll have to clean these again,” Jimin taunts, amused. “You’re gonna lick your own cum off my boots, dirty, dirty boy.”

“I will, I will, I promise, I will, just—please—” Another shiver wracks Taehyung’s body. His hips tremor, caught between the desires to both thrust up or recoil away.

“Fine,” Jimin decides, sighing like it’s such trouble. “I suppose you did pay for them. Make it quick.”

Taehyung almost screams when he comes, sobbing out pain as he jerks in confused pleasure. Jimin tortures him through it, lets the spike of the heel poke Taehyung’s red cock while trapping his mouth under the other boot. He cries into its sole, skin flushing and marking where he’d scratched, pinched, been stepped on.

When Jimin sits back, crossing his legs and freeing Taehyung, he gives Taehyung a minute to recover, staring up at nothing with glassy eyes and working his hips in a slow circle. Finally he blinks slow at Jimin, voice hoarse with the remnant of a moan.

“Dirty little boy,” is what Jimin sighs when he speaks, clicking his tongue. Taehyung’s foot kicks involuntarily. “Up on your knees.”

Taehyung scrambles up on shaking limbs, barely flinching at the feel of his knees on the hardwood. His fall into his serving position is one that’s practiced to ease, even with jelly limbs; on his knees, forehead pressed to the ground, back arched.

He’d told Jimin once that it was one of his favorite places to be. Kneeling naked before Jimin, mind a haze, wrapped in the desire to serve and in the trust that he’s safe doing so. That Jimin knows what he wants, and will guide him home. Jimin had almost cried, but settled for kissing Taehyung instead.

Today, he lifts the toe of a boot under Taehyung’s chin and tips his head up. Taehyung rises obediently, eyes shining with devotion.

“Well, you really did manage to come like that,” Jimin doesn’t hide the impressed tone in his voice, but keeps his face impassive. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” Taehyung breathes instantly, holding his head raised where Jimin had pulled him to even after putting his foot back down. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for stepping on me. Thank you for letting me come.”

“You’re very welcome,” Jimin replies, eyes running over Taehyung for another moment. Then he leans forward and down, lifts a hand to thumb once at Taehyung’s cheek. “Are you okay?” is what he asks in a soft tone.

Jimin’s favorite smile breaks out across Taehyung’s face. It’s wide, unabashedly happy, not at all out of place though it shines through sweat and his flushed cheeks.

“Yes,” Taehyung tells him proudly, eyes bright, and can’t resist, “I love you.”

Jimin can’t help his own giddy smile, punctuated by a swift kiss to Taehyung’s forehead. “I love you too,” he whispers, and sits back up. It’s only practice that he manages to school his face back into one of disinterest, and tap his foot against the floor.

“If you’re so thankful,” he says, raising his eyebrows, “Then show me.”

“Yes, sir,” Taehyung ducks his head, dropping back to his hands and lowering his head immediately. This, too, he’s well trained in, kissing each boot reverently before lapping his tongue across the gleam of the leather, back still gorgeously arched. Even tongue out, he continues to mumble, “Thank you. Thank you, sir.”

Chapter Text

Yoongi arcs up into the thrust, stomach a delicate tremble. His face is flushed with it, exertion painting his cheeks a pretty pink as he matches Taehyung's effort on the double-ended dildo.

They're a gorgeous sight, the two of them. Twin karada harnesses knotted across their chests, Yoongi's rope dyed black and Taehyung's a cotton candy pink. Their collars are different as night and day but both prominent; Taehyung wears a thick leather, metal tag hand-carved Taetae dangling against the hollow of his throat. In contrast Yoongi's velvet, almost a choker, wraps snug around his neck.

They've found a rhythm to match to as they rock their hips forward, both desperate to rut down on their end of the dildo. To put on a show, they'd been ordered, and the spread of their legs as they obey gives a perfect glint to the steel of their cock cages. That might be the prettiest sight of all, Jimin thinks, giving the wine of the glass in his hand a lazed swirl, watching the two pets fuck themselves open for their owners while their locked cocks bounce uselessly. Pathetically.

"Come now, Yoongichi," comes Seokjin's drawl, dripping with condescension. "You can fuck prettier than that. Unless you want to lose?"

A wet whimper shudders its way up Yoongi's throat, and he struggles visibly to rock his hips up more fully. Across from him Taehyung grins, tossing his head back with eyes closed. After all, the show doesn't end when they're ordered to stop; the one decided to be the winner is going to fuck the other for all their boyfriends to watch.

Both submissives are eager to be unlocked, to feel stimulation, Jimin knows, but the odds look to be in Taehyung's favor, so far. His height has given him an advantage, longer limbs giving him more maneuverability in their little game.

Yoongi's left to contend with a greater length and less room to lift himself off it. It's been clear for several minutes it's getting to him, and becoming more apparent each second as his thrusts lapse into jerks and his eyes glaze and his lips wet with drool.

"Looks like my boy is gonna win," Jimin taunts proudly, leaning back into the comfort of the armchair. Taehyung's tongue lolls into his smile, hyper attuned to Jimin's praises.

Hoseok's laugh is mean, more of a snicker. "Kitten isn't even trying anymore," he mocks, and on the ground before them, Yoongi whines in protest. It's sloppy, showcases just how wrecked he's becoming, and works against him.

"Because he wants to get fucked," Seokjin says boredly, shaking his head. "Look at him. He hasn't taken his eyes off Taetae's dick once. He's practically gagging for it."

Taehyung cracks his eyes open to meet Yoongi's, and laughs. A smile twitches at Jimin's own mouth, but he stays in character, kicking out his boot at Taehyung's backside.

"Don't get cocky, pup. You keep working." Jimin hisses, and Taehyung speeds the roll of his hips instantly, beginning to pant as he fucks himself down onto his end of the dildo. "Make me proud."

Of all the places to meet, Jimin swears he almost fought Hoseok and Seokjin the first time they met. He'd been demonstrating a tie on Taehyung during a local meetup, and been ready to throw hands when Seokjin had less-than-constructive criticism for his knots.

Past the initial squabble, though, they'd ended up all getting along excellently, getting dinner together that first night and keeping in frequent contact since. Their near-fight is a story to laugh over, now. Since then, and especially today, they're in agreement more often than not.

Today's joint scene is a product of Taehyung and Yoongi's planning, a discussed fantasy before bringing it to their boyfriends on a double date night. It's all their favorite flavors, petplay and humiliation and exhibitionism and all the little things that get them going just right.

(Today isn't their first time all playing together, but they're pretending so. That the two pets are being introduced to one another, and so far, it's played out gorgeously:

Jimin had moved first, a sharp jerk of Taehyung's leash. Pressed down on the small of his back, ordered him to keep his head up, accentuated his good boy with two sharp swats to Taehyung's ass. Well trained, he'd barely flinched.

Yoongi had been less composed, eyes fixed hungrily on Taehyung. From Jimin's understanding, Seokjin and Hoseok haven't let him come in a month and a half. His hungry look hadn't slipped past his boyfriends. Seokjin had looped the end of Yoongi's leash around his hand until the rope went taut and Yoongi strained upward on his knees. Like that Hoseok had dropped into a squat behind him, rubbing a hand over his stomach mockingly.

"He looks pretty, doesn't he, kitten?" Hoseok had whispered, staged enough to carry across the room. Yoongi had nodded best he can with the pull on his collar tugging him up. "Play nice, okay?")

"I think we have a winner, don't you?" Hoseok says with mean amusement, looking down at the two to his side like they're a panel of judges.

"Agreed," Jimin says, tempering his voice into one with an iced edge. He snaps his fingers. "Off the toy. Present yourselves."

Taehyung and Yoongi obey, albeit at different paces. Taehyung wriggles himself backwards and up, twisting until he's up on his knees before the three of them, hands laced behind his head. Yoongi is slower to move, and as he repositions himself with trembling limbs Jimin can see and confirm how much deeper he'd taken the toy, his expression fucked-out. It doesn't slip past his boyfriends.

"Ah, it's Taetae for sure," Seokjin complains, looking back and forth between them. "We've spoiled him too much, 'seok. Jimin, you said you train him like this?"

"Mm, he's got to ride his toy a half hour each day," Jimin confirms, giving Taehyung a wink. "I won't have a lazy pet."

"Ugh, that's smart. We've turned Kitten into a god damn pillow princess," Hoseok says to Seokjin with a shake of his head. Yoongi squirms before them, cheeks still flushing as he holds the presentation pose. "You should see it sometime, Jimin. All he wants is cock in his mouth and another in his ass, he's forgotten how to do any actual work."

"I think I'd like to see it right now, actually," Jimin replies. Yoongi's eyes flash to him, and he shudders under the appreciative look. "I think Taehyungie stole the show. Any objections?"

"None here," Seokjin says cheerily. He kicks his foot out, nudging it at the steel of Yoongi’s cage. Yoongi's stomach clenches as he struggles against the instinct to curl in on himself. "If you like getting fucked so much, darling,  you could have just said so."

"Then that's that," Hoseok says, sounding as unsympathetic as could be. “Sorry, kitten. Looks like that cage is going to stay on a bit longer.”

Beside them Jimin clicks his tongue, hand outstretched. Taehyung drops down to his hands and knees immediately, crawls to Jimin and sits up on his heels before him.

His timid smile brightens to see Jimin's own proud expression. Jimin leans forward, fluffs a hand through Taehyung's hair and coos at him.

"Good boy," he says, giggling to watch Taehyung loll his tongue out his mouth and lick shyly at Jimin's hand. Like he's speaking to a puppy, "Oh, good boy. Made me so proud, you deserve this off, hm?" Taehyung makes a soft, affirming whine that might pass for the beginning of a yip when Jimin toes at the steel of his cock cage. Speech isn't allowed from either of the pets, for this scene, only those helpless noises. "Is that what you want, pup? You want your cage off?"

Taehyung perks up and nods, curling his hands up and close to his chest. Jimin's trained him well to beg, and beg he does, feigns a cute panting noise with his tongue out, licks at his lips when Jimin kisses his nose.

The key is always looped around Jimin's neck, and he lifts the chain off and over his head as he moves to squat beside Taehyung, who straightens up and spreads his knees farther with a longing expression. Sighs blissfully at the click of the padlock, head tipping back as Jimin slips the metal of the sheath down and tugs his balls free of the ring.

A whimper slips out Taehyung's lips when Jimin fists his cock, runs an exploring touch over all of him that's been locked away. He's lucky, Jimin knows, has only been wearing the cage this stint for two weeks now. It's still a decent length of time to endure no touch aside from cleanings and sparsely given edges, but Yoongi's been locked up for far longer.

And will stay so, for today, desperation be damned. Taehyung hardens quickly under Jimin's touch without the constriction of the cage, can barely stay still as Jimin rolls on the condom and pinches his thigh.

"Good boy," he croons, tapping a finger under Taehyung's chin. "Go on. Take your reward."

Yoongi shudders when Taehyung touches him. It's a hand ghosted down his front, fingers curled mockingly around his cage. Yoongi bucks his hips hopelessly, as though he could feel anything from it, locked dick pathetically encased.

Taehyung kisses him, the gentleness of his hand reaching up to Yoongi's jaw a sharp contrast to the hunger with which he licks against his mouth. Absently, Jimin wonders how deep the ache of denial reaches when he's been locked up that long, because Yoongi seems to melt into him. Goes pliant when Taehyung hooks his hands in the rope around Yoongi's waist, eyes shutting when Taehyung turns him with a lick to his neck.

"Make him face us," Hoseok calls lazily, leaning forward. "He likes to be watched when he gets bred, don't you, kitten?"

Yoongi shivers. Taehyung grins. He repositions them accordingly, and when Yoongi moves to his knees and forward he's down quick. 'Til his cheek presses against the floor while Taehyung moves behind him, and Seokjin whistles.

"Pretty kitty's just happy to get fucked," he taunts, shaking his head. "Our sweet little bitch in heat."

Taehyung guides his hips forward, and Yoongi gasps, spit already dripping his lips a kissed sheen. The cage catches the light.

"You have permission to come," Jimin tells Taehyung lazily, grins at the way his eyes light up.

"Not you, though," Hoseok reminds with a nod at his boyfriend below Taehyung. Yoongi squeezes his eyes open as if to beg, the painted picture of desperation as he's rocked into the ground and drool smears across his cheek and the floor it's pressed into. "You lost, so stay nice and locked up for us."

"I think our Yoongi likes it better like this, anyway."

It's Seokjin who says it. His expression and tone are an easy impartial, but his interest is betrayed by the way he's slowly palming himself through his pants. Yoongi's eyes are fixed on the motion, the simplest and even that he's denied. His cage bounces against his stomach when Taehyung thrusts forward, already close and shaking from it after weeks-built sensitivity. Yoongi's longing glance isn't missed, and Seokjin grins.

"Getting mounted and bred by Taetae," he sneers, and Yoongi flushes darker. Taehyung's thrusts pick up, and he licks a stripe up Yoongi's spine before biting down on the pale jut of his shoulder. "Taking what he's given, our precious cockslut."

Chapter Text

Taehyung lost count about a hundred strokes ago. There's no use keeping it, when he's not counting down to anything, certainly no end when this torture lasts as long as Jimin likes it to and ends not a second sooner.

The count hadn't been ordered. No, then Taehyung never would have lost it, too in sync and in-tune enough to disobey an order like that— with that train of thought comes the quickest-gone whisper of if it could be managed to make Taehyung lose count of something like that on purpose, when he'd been ordered otherwise. That torment would have to be phenomenal. He makes a note to suggest it to Jimin, later.

Not now, because without the count to keep him sane, all Taehyung has is the feather. A little more than that, of course; he has the unrelenting grip of rope on his ankles and wrists that so comfortingly refuse to give, no matter how he tugs on them. He has the darkness of the blindfold like a blanket, has the bite of clamps on his nipples left on just long enough. And he has the lull of Jimin's voice, a beacon piercing through all else, his lighthouse in the storm when jimin hums softly under his breath as he works.

So the feather isn't all he has, but it might as well be. Blindfolded, streaked with sweat, and held spread and pinned no matter how he writhes and thrashes, all Taehyung can focus on is the soft feather Jimin teases up and down his dick for god-knows how long now. He's lost count, and he has no tell for time. All he knows is he's achingly hard, has been unable to lie still for a while now, and that jimin must be having the time of his life as he dances its tip around the head of Taehyung's cock before slipping it back down to tickle maddeningly at his balls.

you're enjoying this, aren't you, he'd moaned a while ago, and gotten Jimin's giggle in response, the kind that comes when he's heard a particularly funny joke. oh, you aren't? Jimin had teased back, and Taehyung had been unable to disagree.

The longer he's toyed with, though, the more solidly the resolution sits in his head that the feather is the worst. There's almost no real pleasure, just enough of a tease to barely dance on an edge but no further. That all he can do is take it, the reason for the restraints, and focus on it, the reason for the blindfold. It's the center of his whole attention now, the burn of arousal and a stimulation so far from satisfying it only serves to make the ache worse.

"Darling," Jimin muses, almost idly. Taehyung bucks his hips in response, feels how his bangs stick wet to his forehead and his lips tremble in a whimper. It must be enough of a response for Jimin, because he continues, so casually, "Do you think you can come from this?"

Involuntarily, Taehyung jerks again. Bodily, and still the ropes refuse to give. They're almost comforting like that, that he can shake and struggle all he likes, and be unable to curl away from the cruel ministration of the feather. At least the pressure around his wrists and ankles are predictable, steadfast, in the way the movement of the feather is not. Jimin knows his body, and how to make it suffer, too intimately to ever let the movements be predictable, too easy to get used to.

"N-No," Taehyung manages, when he remembers Jimin's asked him something. His thighs tremble, and he hopes the answer doesn't disappoint, though this is a truth Jimin has certainly noticed by now. Taehyung hasn't managed to come close once, only weather and endure for Jimin's amusement. "No, I don't—ah, think so."

Jimin hums again, consideringly this time. the feather drags down from tip to base, agonizingly slowly, and Taehyung swears his eyes nearly roll back behind the blindfold. he hears Jimin laugh, then, his response taunting.

"Good."

Chapter Text

"I can't," Jungkook gasps. The room is hot, their skin heated, slick with sweat. Jimin watches his legs tremble, his cock weep as he lifts himself up and sinks back down onto Taehyung's dick. "Please. M'close."

Jimin takes his time glancing at the timer, and takes his time giving his answer in a lazy drawl. "You've still got thirty seconds more, slut," and keeps the wand buzzing relentlessly against Jungkook's cock. "Don't tell me you're giving up now?"

Jungkook grits his teeth, and shakes his head wildly, hair slipping into his eyes. "That's a good boy," Jimin murmurs, reaching his free hand to brush through Jungkook's hair and tuck it back behind his ears. "And how are you doing on the bottom there, darling?"

Taehyung is clearly no less affected. But quiet, at least for now. However, Jimin knows how to read him, and well, so he sees the signs of Taehyung fighting off his own orgasm in the curl of his toes, in the way his nails dig so deeply into Jungkook's hips that his knuckles turn white.

"Desperate," Taehyung manages, the outcry twisted into a moan. "Sir. Please, let us—"

"No," Jimin says firmly. The timer goes off, so he pulls the wand away and gestures for the two to switch. Jungkook sobs when the wand's stimulation vanishes, a mix of both regret and relief. Still, obediently, he pushes himself up and off, moving to the side with shaking legs as Taehyung sits up. "It's good you're desperate. You know that's your natural state, don't you? Now switch."

The game is simple.

Both of them have been denied for two weeks with daily edging, their usual time period. But this weekend, instead of unequivocal release, Jimin had felt playful. Sadistic. So he'd announced to them with a grin that today, only one of them would be coming. The other would receive a ruin, and then wait for a week: a week caged, without touch or release, purely used as service for the other two.

How, then— he saw the question in their expressions, sinking at the notion of losing but undeniably excited for the challenge— would they decide who got release, and who became the denied servicer for the week?

Well, Jimin had explained, wouldn't the game and its punishment would be more fun if the more desperate individual lost? Shouldn't the submissive with the better self control deserve winning, and release using the other?

That's what they've been measuring for nearly an hour, now. First they'd warmed up, fluffing each other and putting on a show for Jimin alike with a lazy makeout that quickly turned heated as they grinded against one another.

Soon Jungkook's turn had been first, riding Taehyung while Jimin toyed the buzzing wand against him. Then, every five minutes on the timer, they would switch. Reposition themselves, so it was Jungkook laying back while Taehyung bounced on his cock and received the same treatment with the vibrator.

They've already reached several edges this way, but so far, held out to the five minutes of the timer. Then the switch of positioning and the different stimulation it provided had helped in providing a constant stream of pleasure, albeit a different enough type they could hold off working up to the edge again.

And of course, above all, their willpower and endurance had to carry them through. Because the first one to break and come would have their orgasm ruined immediately, and become the the denied service slut for the next week, while the other came freely for the same time period.

Jimin had been pretty proud of himself for coming up with the rules to such a torturous game, where the only way to win, and be allowed to come, was to hold their orgasm back longer than the other.

They're switching now, as the timer had gone off. Taehyung sits with shaking legs as Jungkook lies back down, the both of them practiced and aroused enough now that lube still drips out of Taehyung's asshole from last round when he positions himself over Jungkook and sinks down, head tipping back with a groan.

Jimin waits for him to adjust, for Taehyung's lick of his lips and nod. Then he hits the timer to restart, switches the vibrator back on, and presses it up against the underside of Taehyung's cock when he starts to ride him.

"Oh, god, sir," Jungkook moans almost immediately, his voice a trembling, high-pitched thing. "He's so—fuckin'—I'm so close."

"Then go ahead and come," Jimin says boredly, stroking his free hand along Jungkook's thigh. He's quivering, clearly making an active effort not to jerk his hips and fuck up into Taehyung. "Taehyung won't stop you. He'll just lift up, right at that perfect last moment, and let you ache as you lose."

"No," Jungkook forces out in almost a wail. Above him Taehyung slips his eyes closed, clearly fighting back his own orgasm as he works himself up and down Jungkook's cock in an effort to make him come faster. To make him lose, and be free to come as he likes.

Jimin grins to see it, as Jungkook's hands dig deep into Taehyung's hipbones. "Oh, yes," he purrs. "Get ready to lift yourself off him, Taehyungie."

Taehyung nods, breathless. Another string of pleading falls from Jungkook's lips, but it's obvious he's close to losing the battle, bangs plastered to his forehead and hips starting to jerk up involuntarily.

"Go ahead, Jungkookie, lose for me," Jimin croons, delighting in the shiver that wracks Jungkook's body. Unfair, he can almost hear in Jungkook's responding whimper, when they all know the two of them are conditioned at this point to respond to the silken quality Jimin's voice can take on when he's giving an order. He pinches at Jungkook's thigh, just to cement it. "We all know you're too close to fight it, baby... my hand's getting tired, anyway, don't you want to just give in? Give in, and lose, and give up, and ache, and serve..."

It's the web of the words that pushes him over, Jimin thinks. They all know each others' signs well by now, and Taehyung barely needs Jimin's eye and order to tell him when to lift off, just as Jungkook opens his mouth to groan. As Taehyung hovers above him on his knees, hole gaping. As Jungkook's cock twitches, denied stimulation, but too close to hold back. Cum spurts uselessly, messily, to paint Taehyung's rim.

Jungkook cries through it, head shaking back and forth, hands fallen to his sides to claw at the carpet as the ruined orgasm shudders through him. Taehyung's fallen forward onto his hands and knees, his own desperation and lust apparent. He looks up at Jimin bleary-eyed, the unspoken plea in his expression.

"Looks like we have a winner," Jimin whistles, tossing the vibrator aside to stroke a hand over Taehyung's bangs. And the other to dance up Jungkook's thigh, who stares up glassy-eyed and twitches from the touch. "And our loser. Don't worry, baby. I'm sure you'll do better and get to come next time."

Next time. The two of them groan. Right now the only thing on both their minds is the lack of their own satisfaction, and the desire to quench it. That's fine. Jimin knows later they'll think on it more, and realize just how rigged the game is: when the loser of this game will be even more sensitive desperate during the next time they play, set up to lose again. And again, and again.

"Look at him, Tae," Jimin coos, so softly. "So beautiful, denied for us. We'll ice you later, lock you up nice and tight for the next week, doesn't that sound lovely, Jungkookie?"

"Jiminie," Taehyung whimpers, cutting over Jungkook's groan. "Can I—may I—please—"

"Of course you may come, darling. Go ahead, use our baby, however you want him," Jimin grants. Taehyung's the winner of the game, after all. Jimin helps him sit up, to where Taehyung leans against Jimin for support. And reaches out to twist a hand in Jungkook's hair, gripping and pulling him up in front of the two of them. "And you. Up, slut. You may not be coming today, but we certainly are. On your knees."

Jungkook dazedly scrambles up. To Jimin's side Taehyung still thrums with desperation, and it makes him cruel enough to reach out, to flick at Jungkook's dick where it hangs used and half-hard between his legs. Jungkook groans, shying away from the touch.

"I hope you're satisfied with what you got," Jimin says meanly, more to himself as Taehyung curls a hand against Jungkook's jaw and cranes his face upward for a messy kiss and begins to stroke himself. He's got a mean streak both Jungkook and Jimin have observed, and Jimin wonders if it's about to show with him coming on Jungkook's face and mocking him for losing. "After all, it's all you're getting for the next week."

Chapter Text

Owned by a friend and the host to the club luncheon each month, the corner cafe is no stranger to them or their antics. So Taehyung's steel eternity collar and cuffs barely have to catch the light before the on-duty host is escorting the two of them to the more private back of the restaurant.

Taehyung doesn't mind when the jewelry is noticed. Made for discreet wear, obvious only to those in the know, a pretty penny cost for the loop of silver around his neck and the matching cuffs around his wrists locked seamlessly for always. They barely ever come off since he and Jimin ordered them custom made: simple enough to be jewelry, yet a clear reminder of his status in their relationship, and even handy for play. Because Jimin can lock any other restraints onto them when needed—Taehyung's favorite is when Jimin hooks the cuffs onto thigh bands—but they're also a comfort, and Taehyung's never wanted them off for more than a few minutes to check for chafing.

He's fiddling with the cuffs now, his habit of turning them in a loop around his wrists when he wants comfort. Taehyung finds the constant touch and weight comforting, a reminder of Jimin's control over him. Owned, and in love, their day to day life and kink practices beautifully intertwined in their trust for each other.

Jimin notices his fidgeting, as he notices most everything about Taehyung. "Are you nervous?" he murmurs, hand pressing a comforting weight onto Taehyung's thigh under the table of the booth.

Taehyung shakes his head. "Excited," he admits the correction a little shyly. Jimin chuckles with him, and takes Taehyung's hand in his to stop his fidgeting, thumb rubbing comfortingly over Taehyung's own.

Namjoon and Hoseok don't keep them waiting long. They arrive soon after, slipping into the booth across from them with familiar smiles.

It's not going to be their first time playing together, far from it. They've developed an ease in their little kink-compatible unit. It had started with Jimin and Hoseok bonding over ropework at one of the local meetups, to friends hanging out outside of events, to sharing tips with each other, to an odd mishmash of fun scenes where Hoseok and Jimin get to be at their meanest while Taehyung and Namjoon did, well, their best.

In the last year Namjoon's been exploring moving out from submission, and Taehyung has been a wonderfully willing partner as Jimin and Hoseok supervised. Even now Taehyung feels a glow of pride remembering how Jimin had praised the obedience he'd drilled into Taehyung in his training, naming him the best submissive to practice on. So they've built a softer side dynamic, Taehyung and Namjoon, while still under the thumbs of their respective sadistic boyfriends.

It's that dynamic Taehyung wants to call on today. He's been thinking a lot, lately. About just how well Jimin has trained him, so that it's been a long time since he's been really, truly punished.

He had plenty in the beginning of their relationship, of course. But he’s been so well trained since then that he really only needs what Jimin affectionately dubs upkeep: maintenance canings, sensory deprivation time-outs, replacing fading marks, ruined orgasms to make the denial Jimin keeps him in more frustrating. 

Taehyung loves it, of course. Nothing is hotter to him than how thoroughly Jimin owns him, how far they've come since he approached Jimin shyly with no experience at a community meetup to ask a question about spanking years ago. Mentorship had led to their actual relationship, and as they'd fallen in love Taehyung had also fallen deep into Jimin's side hobby of being a brutal yet educational dungeon monitor for the local kink circuit.

They're both fond looking back at it. How shy and curious Taehyung had been, then fast forward through years of discovery and exploration and love together, to where they're semi-famous and people flock to see Jimin's educational demonstrations with Taehyung as his puppet. His collar and cuffs always on, and trained so certainly into the dynamic they'd developed together that he can't imagine living without the submission he craves now.

Still. Lately, Taehyung has wanted a little more than upkeep. To act out again, the way he did early on, and endure a punishment so grand his mind whites out while enduring it.

It's not possible for him to disappoint Jimin in such a way he earns something like that, not with how thoroughly they've established their relationship. They can read each other so easily at this point, tell what each other wants, that Taehyung would have to purposely fuck up to offend Jimin enough for a punishment as harsh as the one he wants, and that just goes against years of the trusting dynamic they've built.

That's where Namjoon and Hoseok come in. Namjoon is much, much softer when he explores dominance with Taehyung, and Taehyung thinks it's the perfect opportunity to get what he's been craving. 

The desire might horrify the uninitiated to sadomasochism, but the next time he makes a mistake, Taehyung wants hell to come down on him.

Hoseok looks intrigued as Taehyung talks. Jimin looks proud. Namjoon nods along, but looks a little concerned.

"I don't know," he admits when Taehyung finishes. "I know that it's something you want. But I don't know how I'm going to feel, seeing you be hurt like that if it's because of me."

Taehyung understands, and nods. "If you don’t want to do this, we won’t," he reassures. "But remember, it won't be because of you. It'll be because of me. And you don't have to do anything, either. You can just watch... I almost like that idea more," he finishes as he realizes it. His dick might even twitch if it weren't locked in steel, mind replaying the fantasy he's been having all over again for him, but now modified to place Namjoon in the corner, ignoring Taehyung's punishment at Hoseok and Jimin's hands.

That catches Namjoon's attention. To his side Taehyung sees Jimin smirk, just slightly, something only he can catch from being so attuned to each other. They've talked before guessing that Namjoon has a mile wide voyeurism streak, and it looks like they were right.

“This doesn’t have to happen immediately, either,” Jimin points out. “We have as long as we want to talk about things like that, and how to work through them.”

"We'll have to negotiate it very clearly," Hoseok says thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "Something like that, where you'll be crying to stop, is going to need a lot of safety measures."

"Taehyungie is trained really well," Jimin says fondly. Taehyung's heart beats a little faster at how eagerly Jimin always brags about him. "We can set up several different safety checks, to make sure he's not just answering automatically. Verbally, but physically, too."

"And everything will still be within my limits," Taehyung reminds. "I just... really want to be in the center of attention, and punished, like that." He shivers thinking about it again.

"Well, let's talk about it, then," Namjoon decides. "Since you two are so, um... you," they all laugh a second. Taehyung is well known for being Jimin's puppet for a variety of local circuit demonstrations; there's not a lot he hasn't explored. "And open to so many things, it might be faster to start with what you don't want to do."

Taehyung glances to his side at Jimin.

“No hypnosis,” Jimin says. It’s something they’ve been exploring, and showcasing, the last year, so it’s not out of the blue. But when Taehyung had shared what he wanted from this scene, Jimin had expressed how intimate he finds that play between the two of them, and that he’d wanted to keep it that way. Taehyung understood, and he rests his head on Jimin’s shoulder comfortingly now. 

I know you want everything we can throw at you, Jimin had said, And I want to give you everything. But some things I don’t want to share with others.

“I know I’ve been okay talking about it at events, but actually utilizing it in the scene… I’d rather that stay between us right now.”

"Gotcha," Hoseok nods. "Well, like I said, we'll definitely need to talk more... but I'm excited."

"I am too," Namjoon says shyly, giving Taehyung an abashed grin across the table, dimples out in full force. Taehyung returns it, cheeks pink.

"Well, then," Jimin says pleasedly, and squeezes Taehyung's thigh under the table. "Let's get planning."

A barrier to the scene, Taehyung had thought, is how well-trained and experienced he is. Because it's hard to think of something he'd purposely disobey on without feeling like he'd lowered his own standard—a complex feeling, to be sure, and maybe one no one outside the scene or even outside their relationship could understand. But Taehyung has built so much of his pride in their experiences together on his obedience, on Jimin's bragging about his good boy, that the last thing he wants is to put a dent in his record by purposely disobeying an order.

So a barrier, sure. But it's not impossible. They just need to find something that Taehyung breaks on involuntarily, and they discover it sooner than they think: because while Jimin has trained Taehyung to take pain well, he still squirms over pleasure like he did all the way back at the beginning of his relationship with Jimin. He just finds different sensations pleasurable, now.

Like, say, Namjoon teasing the inside of his thighs, one of his known sensitive areas, with his favorite riding crop.

"I'm not going to ask you again," Namjoon says. The crop looks good in his hands. The dissatisfaction looks handsome on his face, even if it feels like failure.

"I'm sorry," Taehyung whines, hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his side. "It just feels s-so good, I can't help it."

He really isn't lying. The riding crop, especially gentler in the hands of Namjoon's quiet domination, has more of a positive association in Taehyung's mind. And to his body, which is used to much harder tools. Today, excited for what's to come and worked up for weeks thinking about it, he can't seem to stop squirming. That involuntary action happens to jerk his legs up, closing them.

Something he should, and does, already know better than to do. Especially since it keeps happening, no matter how many times Namjoon tells him stop.

So, of course, it warrants extra punishment.

"I said I'm not going to ask you again," Namjoon repeats, this time with an air of finality.

It's alluring, watching him decide to lose his cool: Taehyung has experienced dozens of play partners by now, and Namjoon is still the softest, gentlest dom he's had. Lack of experience as he explores has a lot to do with it, but it's also just his nature. He likes to reward Taehyung—that is, when Taehyung is being good, and keeping his legs open when told.

"What are you going to do?" Taehyung asks breathlessly. His hands curl into fists again, his defense to keep himself in check when he wants nothing more than to run his hands down his body to touch. To tease over his thighs the way he wants, hold the weight of his cage in his hand and feel the ache of arousal tenfold— he has to force himself to focus.

"I've obviously been too lenient with you." Namjoon shakes his head. Taehyung whines at the disappointment in his voice. "I'm calling your trainers. Maybe then you'll learn your lesson."

Taehyung almost groans, legs pulling up to his chest. Closing them again. Because the friction of his thighs against one another feels good, an alleviation to the ache. Namjoon sees, and shakes his head.

"No, sir, please," he begs, even as he disobeys him, "Please, I can be good, I'll try harder, I don't need training!"

"Don't argue," Namjoon says sternly.

Taehyung pouts, and—can't help himself, it's just so good, Namjoon has never been anything but gentle and even shy, and the new strictness strikes deeper in Taehyung than he could have ever imagined. So much so he can't help it, can't help the excitement thrumming in him, and since he's breaking all the rules anyway, runs his hands over his chest and down his soft, sensitive stomach with a groan.

A few seconds of pleasure so good, that even the flash and shutter click of a cell phone camera doesn't stop him.

"Touching yourself without permission now, too?" Namjoon says in disbelief. He taps at his phone—sending the picture, Taehyung knows, as pre-planned. The idea burns under his skin. "Wait until your trainers see this. I wonder what they'll do to you."

"Please," Taehyung whispers, and doesn't know whether he's asking for Namjoon to put the phone away or send the picture to their group chat. "Please, sir. I'm your good boy, I still am, I'll be good!"

"Too late," Namjoon says, and the knock sounds on the door. Just as Taehyung's wandering hands find his nipples, the creak of the door opening covering up his gasp. Taehyung closes his eyes, struggling to drop his hands back to his side, but only managing for them to linger along his stomach.

Footsteps, first. Namjoon's sigh, and softly muttered conversation to them. Taehyung hears his name, and bad.

"Well, well," is the first thing he hears clearly. A shudder goes through Taehyung on principle. He'd know that voice in his dreams. Husband. Master. "I didn't want to believe you, but it seems you were right, Joonie."

"Don't worry," Taehyung hears Hoseok say cheerily. A little farther away, so Taehyung thinks they’re across the room, that he's safe for now, until a hand grips roughly in his hair. Taehyung's eyes fly open with a gasp to come face to face with Jimin, eyes fond, and grin wicked. It makes it all the more ominous when Hoseok, still beside Namjoon, continues, "We'll sort him right out for you."

Jimin hauls Taehyung up by his hair. Taehyung's hands fly away from his body, but he knows he's already been caught. Jimin watches the reflex with a shake of his head.

"A little too late for that, isn't it?" Jimin cocks his head innocently. Without releasing his grip on Taehyung's hair, he digs for his phone in his pocket, pulls it out and opens it to turn and show Taehyung with a flourish—the picture of himself, legs pressed against each other and his hands wandering over his body, clearly enjoying himself. Taehyung flushes with an addicting cocktail of shame and arousal.

Hoseok walks to Jimin’s side. “Namjoon says he’s been playing with himself,” he tells Jimin, completely over Taehyung’s head. Like he’s not a factor in their conversation, just something to deal with. There’s disgust in his voice, and the only attention he pays to Taehyung is to toe at his side. 

“Now that’s just no good at all,” Jimin clicks his tongue in disappointment and uses his grip on Taehyung’s hair to throw him down. “Playing with yourself like a worthless bitch in heat, is that what you were doing, Tae? No, don’t make any excuses. And don’t you fucking try to get up, either. Prostrate yourself. I won’t ask twice.”

Instantly, Taehyung silences the protest to die on his tongue and gets into position quickly as he can. It’s a completely humbled pose, ass up and legs spread and cheek pressed to the floor, but Jimin trained any embarrassment out of him long ago. 

Jimin lets go of his hair and stands up. From his new pose Taehyung strains to see the room, even with his face pressed so close to the floor. He can see— Hoseok laying Jimin’s bag out on the bench, the one he takes to exhibitions with all the important stuff inside. And Namjoon, taking a seat with an excellent view of the room, who shakes his head disappointedly when Taehyung makes eye contact with him. 

Taehyung whines again, a pet calling to his owner in apology, and Jimin huffs a mocking laugh. Jimin lifts his leg, and Taehyung gasps when Jimin presses his boot down on top of Taehyung’s cheek, grinding his face down further into the ground. Even degraded like that, Taehyung realizes Jimin’s wearing his metal-buckled Maison Margiela boots and trembles in excitement.

“Aw, he’s trying to see what’s coming to him,” Jimin calls to the other two delightedly. “Bet he’d be hard if I didn’t keep his cock locked up.”

Hope jolts through Taehyung enough that a gasp draws out of him. Hoseok laughs at it, loudly and cruelly. “Let him come see what we’ve got then, then,” he says. Taehyung sees him sorting through objects with his hands, all of them too far to identify but certainly bad news for him.

“Alright then, mutt,” Jimin says cheerily. He lifts his boot off Taehyung’s cheek, but before Taehyung can begin to sit up, Jimin grabs him by the back of his collar and yanks him up himself. Taehyung chokes at it, his whine turned into more of a strangled yelp. “Go ahead, take a look.”

Back up on his knees, Taehyung can see. First, the two of them, with admiration: show outfits, the both of them, sleek black suits and black boots, Jimin's heeled. Hoseok is grinning at Taehyung, eyes roaming hungrily over his body, likely already planning where they’re going to mark up, as he tugs on a pair of black leather gloves. Taehyung nearly drools to see it.

He also sees Jimin’s bag, unbuckled, and laid beside it: a number of items, not one of them for pleasure. He recognizes the flogger, the crop, and—with a thrill—the cane, until Jimin drags him forward by the collar and Taehyung loses sight trying to keep up with Jimin’s strides on his knees.

“You know what,” Jimin muses, toeing one of those glorious metal-buckled boots against Taehyung’s ass before he squats down beside him. “I think I do wanna see how excited he is. What do you think, Seokie?”

“He’s got such a nice dick, Jimin, really,” Hoseok comments. “I never mind using it as a target.”

Jimin sighs wistfully. “I know. It’s really a shame I have to keep it locked up, but Taehyungie likes it better when every part of him is controlled. Don’t you, baby?”

The last part is dropped to a murmur, Jimin's grip still firm on the back of Taehyung's collar. Taehyung nods as best he can with the pressure.

"Yes," Taehyung manages a nod even with the steel of his collar dipped against his throat. Jimin coos, and slaps his face.

"That's what I thought," Jimin's voice is affectionate despite the harsh slap he's just delivered. He drops his hand to the cage between Taehyung's legs.

Jimin does this often. Holds Taehyung's locked dick in his hand like he's weighing it, lets Taehyung go crazy for how he doesn't get even the barest sensation if he hasn't earned it. He does it now, too, and even squeezes his hand around the metal, digging a nail in between the bars of the cage.

Taehyung jolts at the sharp sting of it. Standing in front of them and watching closely, Hoseok laughs, and Jimin grins up at him.

"Look at him, his tongue's practically wagging for it," Hoseok snickers. Taehyung looks helplessly to Namjoon, who's scrolling through his phone like he couldn't care less— like Taehyung really is no more than a pet needing discipline, and every bit of humiliation is no more than he deserves.

"He is, hah— You want out of your cage, baby?" Jimin lets go of his caged cock to rub a comforting hand against Taehyung's stomach, the concern in his voice sickeningly sugar-sweet and just as fake. Taehyung sniffles.

"If—If it pleases you, sir," he breathes, barely daring to hope, but still managing deference to Jimin's wishes, and the response he's been trained to give, despite every part of him that wants nothing more than to scream yes.

"Mm, I think it will," Jimin decides. He lets go of Taehyung's collar, but Taehyung stays upright and poised despite the ache beginning in his knees. Jimin lifts the necklace around his neck, its pendant hidden below his shirt—a silver chain, and on the end of it, a dangling key. "Hands behind your head. This is for us, not for you."

Taehyung obeys immediately, lifting his hands up and lacing his fingers behind his head. Oftentimes, Jimin tosses him the key, and watches as Taehyung's hands shake and fumble with eagerness to unlock his cage.

But today he's being punished, not rewarded. He keeps that in mind, even as his blood rushes in excitement. Years of training has led Taehyung to associate the cage's weight as a comforting reminder of Jimin's ownership, and as protection—of course from his own wandering hands, but also from whatever tortures Jimin might be inclined to deliver.

"You're shaking," Jimin observes quietly. His hands are practiced, and work quickly, clicking and sliding off the padlock and working the rest of the cage off. Taehyung whimpers. "Excited for your cage to come off?"

Taehyung nods. "Yes, sir," he exhales, and shudders when Jimin pulls the ring free and his cock slips loose, already beginning to stiffen. That heady ache of arousal is so strong, and Taehyung digs his fingernails into his knuckles where they're still laced behind his head, wishing, praying for Jimin to touch him.

Just barely. Jimin ghosts a hand over his length, eliciting another shiver and sigh from Taehyung. Who hadn't even realized his eyes had closed, and opens them now to see Jimin watching him fondly, a sharp smile curving his lips.

"This doesn't mean you get to come, or even touch, you know that," Jimin murmurs to him. It's not a question. "The only touch you get is ours or a whip, understand?"

Taehyung nods breathlessly, air stolen from his lungs.

"Good boy," Jimin says. Casually, as an afterthought, "Give Master a kiss."

Heart swelling in his chest, Taehyung sways forward. Jimin catches him with his kiss. It's immediately deep and heady, every last nerve of Taehyung's begging for attention already. And Jimin answers it, attuned to Taehyung enough to know exactly the fierce kind of dominance he needs. Jimin licks into his mouth, altogether controlling, and then bites down on Taehyung's lip harsh enough to pull a cry from his throat involuntarily.

Jimin only lets go when there's tears in Taehyung's eyes, pulling back to spit into Taehyung's face. Taehyung moans, wrecked, and Jimin stands with a laugh. Now Taehyung can see the other two watching as well; Namjoon's eyes hungry, and Hoseok's alight as he palms at his dick over his pants.

"I'm too good to him, really," Jimin says fondly, toeing his boot at Taehyung's freed dick.

"Look, he's already getting hard," Hoseok swears, with a bite at his own lip. "He's really just a mutt in heat, isn't he? How long have you kept him denied for, Jimin?"

"Hm," Jimin pretends to think about it, eyes flickering back down to Taehyung. Taehyung, already feeling gorgeously small and debauched, struggling to keep his hands behind his head and ignore the throbbing between his legs. "How many days now, pet?"

Taehyung could cry, or drool, or both.

It's another part of their journey together that might be hard, even impossible, for others to understand. Namjoon has certainly expressed he could never undergo long-term denial, though he's admitted to finding it hot that Taehyung does.

It's not like it had been 0 to 100. It had taken time, and devotion, and discussions, and more to work up to, longer and longer periods of play. Starting small, within a session, then a day, then a week, then weeks, then a month, then months... so on, and so on.

It's just a part of their relationship now. Taehyung loves feeling that Jimin exercises absolute control over every aspect of his sexuality; Jimin loves feeling the power of that control, and the trust Taehyung gives to him to exert it. So Taehyung had been fitted for a custom-made steel cock cage a few years into their relationship, as they played with those longer and longer denial periods and rules and games.

Touching, edging, depends on their day-to-day. Sometimes Jimin wants to relieve stress by tying Taehyung down and edging him as long as he likes. Other times Taehyung begs, driven crazy with lust, and gets unlocked for the privilege of humping Jimin's leg—or, if he's really lucky, permission to touch himself for Jimin to watch.

Taehyung can earn edges day to day, or a ruined orgasm if he's been really good. But coming—a full, proper orgasm—is set in stone. Their anniversary, and Taehyung's birthday, are the only days Taehyung can come, however he likes and as many times as he likes. (Christmas might've been included, Jimin had mused to Taehyung's whining, but it's so close to Taehyung's birthday, what's the point—you can wait a little longer, can't you, pet?)

It's Jimin's rule that Taehyung always be aware of exactly how many days he's been kept denied. He loves to ask, does it nearly every day, and especially at their shows, just to hold it over him smugly and see Taehyung's desperation repeating it.

It's what Jimin's asking now, despite having only just asked him yesterday.

"Fifty four days," Taehyung answers. It takes all his willpower not to squeeze his legs together to feel anything. "Sir."

Hoseok whistles. Namjoon's turned back to his phone, but there's a faint flush on his cheeks. And Jimin looks proudly down at him.

"Aish, Jiminie, you're so mean," Hoseok says, but it sounds more impressed than scolding. "Maybe he's getting too riled up, and that's why he was disobedient, hm?"

Jimin clicks his tongue. "It better not be," he shakes his head. Taehyung looks up at him pleadingly, knows better than to speak unless Jimin addresses him directly but wants so badly to beg Jimin that he's a good boy and hasn't been bad. Jimin catches the look, and threatens, "I know you wouldn't embarrass me like that. Didn't I train you better?"

"I know, I know, you did," Taehyung nods his head frantically. "I know."

"Oh, he knows," Hoseok sneers. Taehyung hangs his head with a whine, arms beginning to shake from being laced behind his head so long—but Jimin hasn't given him permission to change posture, and he's good, he is.

"Then he should know we don't care," Jimin says sweetly. "He has to pay for being so greedy. It’s the only way they learn."

Taehyung is so desperately looking at Jimin to forgive him, that he doesn't see the cane in Hoseok's hand until it's too late. Hoseok doesn't waste a second warning him, just aims the cane down directly between Taehyung's legs. The only warning Taehyung receives is a rush of air before sharp pain bursts through his lower body.

Taehyung nearly crumples, gasping out a plea. He just barely manages to hold his posture, hands behind his head even as he bends forward in half at the throb of pain in his belly.

"S-Sir," he chokes out. Three pairs of eyes turn to him, and Taehyung pleads, "Namjoon, please. I'm sorry."

Namjoon looks at Jimin. Jimin crouches back down beside Taehyung, winding a supportive hand around his waist.

"Color, love," Jimin asks. Taehyung sags into him, and closes his eyes.

"Green," he breathes. "Please. Punish me."

Jimin kisses his cheek. "Okay," he says simply. "Okay, Taehyung."

He stands. The last touch Taehyung gets from him is a reassurance, a gentle hand ran over his hair.

"Go ahead and get hard, baby," Jimin says, almost encouraging, and Taehyung opens his eyes to see Hoseok drawing his arm back for the next hit. "It gives us an easier target."

"Th-Thirty-three," Taehyung cries, teeth chattering. The sound of the cane whipping through the air comes again, always first, and then makes itself known as a thin band of fire-hot pain landing sharp against his chest. Taehyung jerks, and moans with it, and again— "Thirty-four!"

"He's doing well," Hoseok comments over his head to Jimin. "Most subs would be trying to cover themselves by now, wouldn't they?"

"Oh, Taehyungie is very well trained," Jimin says proudly from somewhere behind him. Then, that whistle of air—Taehyung jolts as Jimin's cane strikes across his back.

"Thirty-five," Taehyung groans.

"You've done a really good job with him. Tongue out," Hoseok addresses the last part down to Taehyung. Taehyung obeys immediately, and Hoseok holds the cane out before him, end just in front of Taehyung's mouth. "You know what to do."

Taehyung is trained well. He never has to be told twice. Immediately he mouths at the thin end of the cane, lapping his tongue messily. He still hasn't looked down once at the stinging skin of his front, that had taken at least half of the hits and is probably turning red. He's been given a task, and follows it.

"Thank you," Jimin says proudly.

It’s his acknowledgment as his owner to claim, not Taehyung's; Jimin is the one who had trained him, from the gentle play of their first few forays together to the routines that had gotten more strict as Taehyung's experience and appetite grew.

"I almost never restrained him for punishments," Jimin continues, sharing. "Of course he tried to cover himself at first, s'just instinct, but that just earns more of a punishment. So it takes longer, and more discipline, but they learn to suppress the reflex. He learned to just take the pain.”

“Really,” Hoseok huffs, glancing over to Namjoon with a look. “Interesting.”

Namjoon catches it, and blushing red, buries his head further in the book he’s picked up. He’s settled on a tormenting mix of alternating watching Taehyung boredly or ignoring his punishment completely.

“Thank Hobi hyung for putting you in your place, darling,” Jimin coos from behind Taehyung. The order is accompanied by the end of Jimin’s cane poking sharply at his soles, and Taehyung yelps to obey.

“Thank you for—putting me in my place,” Taehyung gasps, the cane slipping out, making wide eyes up at Hoseok. Hoseok gives him a serene smile, and taps the cane back against Taehyung’s lips.

“I think your master told you to thank me, not spit this out,” Hoseok says sweetly. Taehyung sucks in a breath and nods, sticking his tongue out again to worship the cane end.

Hoseok holds eye contact as Taehyung licks along the cane, so Taehyung does his best to make it into a show. If it's affecting him in any way, Hoseok doesn't show it.

He just says, "Maybe you trained him to take it a little too well," Casually, to Jimin over Taehyung's head. "I don't think he's learned a lesson yet."

"I have," Taehyung pleads, and gets the cane yanked out of his mouth and its end jabbed harshly at his chest for it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, sir."

Namjoon sighs to their side, ignoring the pleading look Taehyung gives him. "I trust your judgment," he says, "Do whatever you need to train him."

"Well, then, if you think we're being too easy on him—" Jimin ignores the pleading look Taehyung gives him over his shoulder, grinning at Hoseok and not sparing Taehyung a glance. "Let's play a little game, yeah?"

He accentuates the last question with a grab at Taehyung's hair and throwing him down to the ground.

"Stay down, mutt," Jimin says cheerfully. "Let's see if anything I've taught you has stuck in that empty head of yours."

This time, there's no count to keep. Only the humiliation, and the pain. It almost fucks with him more than keeping a count, Taehyung thinks, because at least that reminds him there was a beginning, and so there will be an end.

Instead, he's lost count this time. It's also harder to endure, active service and pain rather than just simply taking hits. But harder to endure doesn't immediately translate to less enjoyable. If anything, Taehyung feels almost feverish with losing himself in the game.

Right now he's crawling pathetically across the room to reach Jimin. On his hands and knees, as slowly and sensually as he can manage by their order, untouched dick between his legs so hard it almost hurts.

Crawling on the hard surface isn't what makes this difficult. It's Hoseok following behind him, laying into his ass with the flogger loud enough that the smack of the tails on his flesh fills the room. Taehyung sobs with relief when he makes it to Jimin, dropping from his hands to his elbows and pressing his cheek against the side of Jimin's boot.

He's been walked like this, he doesn't know for how long now, back and forth between them. Each time the one behind him takes the opportunity to sting his ass with the flogger, until he reaches the other side of the room, and polishes their boots with his tongue and drool until he's ordered back across the room for another torturous walk.

The harder training must be working as they planned, because Taehyung no longer tries to glance up and catch any of their eyes for pity. He just drops with a relieved sob to kiss Jimin's boot, to have a minute or so of reprieve from the humiliation of crawling and the pain of the flogger.

"Good boy," Jimin croons down at him as he works, mockery in his tone so prominent he may as well have said stupid bitch. "This feels better, mm? When you're being used?"

The noise of agreement Taehyung can manage in his throat as he worships Jimin's boot sounds dumb. He manages a little nod, but otherwise won't let his attention be pulled away as he kisses the top of it, tastes fine leather dragging his tongue over it. He laps up his own spit, and tastes metal when he dares to mouth at the metal buckle reverently enough his head goes foggy with it.

And then it's over too soon. Jimin shakes him away, pressing the sole to Taehyung's cheek to push him back toward the center and stands. Taehyung trembles, but obeys, turning back to the other end of the room.

Jimin is just as vicious with the flogger, arm well practiced from years of it. He brings it down on Taehyung's back quick enough to have it whistling through the air, bringing a cry from Taehyung when it bites at his skin as he crawls across the floor to reach Hoseok again, head hanging pathetically.

Hoseok's taste in fashion is almost parallel to the sleek goth runway looks of Jimin's play outfits, but the black combat boots he's got on will serve just as well. Taehyung almost drops to him when he reaches him, leaving trembling kisses over every bit of the shoe's surface he can reach. Jimin tucks the flogger away to but this time stays behind instead of walking away, and gives a humiliating squeeze and smack to Taehyung's ass.

"There you are," Hoseok comments meanly. He rolls his ankle, so the sole of the boot is accessible, and Taehyung doesn't need to be told, just noses into it and laves his tongue over the flat of the sole. As he works, Hoseok leans in, and stage-whispers, "How does it feel to be unlocked and still not get to touch, huh? Bet you'd take anything on your dick, even this boot."

Taehyung moans. Still hovering behind him, Jimin chuckles. "Are you teasing him?" Taehyung can hear him ask. Hoseok must nod, or give some other verbal confirmation, because Jimin hums, "Good."

Sinking deep into the service, Taehyung doesn't know how many minutes pass like that. He only knows when it ends, Hoseok nudging at his cheek with the toe of his boot to turn Taehyung's face away.

Taehyung pushes himself up to turn around, but this time, Jimin is still beside him rather than waiting across the room. Taehyung blinks at Jimin as he squats down beside him.

"Hey, angel," Jimin greets him. Taehyung melts at the softness in his eyes. "Gonna check on you, make sure my boy is doing alright, mmkay?"

Taehyung sits up straighter, wincing at the sting from the canes and floggers on the back of his thighs and ass as he does so. He licks his lips, messy from lapping at their shoes.

"Color?" Jimin asks first, tilting his head. Easy-peasy. Taehyung gives Jimin a little smile, and says, "Green."

"And you remember your safeties?" Jimin checks.

Taehyung repeats his safeword, and adds, "Or if I can't speak, tap or snap my fingers three times."

"Good, Tae." it's fond, and Jimin smiles back at him, putting his chin in his hand. "How are you feeling?"

Taehyung takes a breath. "I feel..." he shivers, thinking. Jimin wants him to give detailed responses, when they're playing a more intense scene, where a roleplay covers up the use of no or stop, and where Taehyung might have begun to drift . But reflecting like this really ends up teasing him more.

"I feel good. Small. Like m'being put in my place, how I wanted to feel..." Taehyung bites his lip, unconsciously squirms his hips forward, just once. He's too well trained to let it go longer, no matter how desperate, no matter how much reporting to Jimin sends a flush of heat through his belly. "And god, the pain is so good, Minnie. Sir. I feel tested. And good for taking it."

"You are, you are so good for taking it," Jimin murmurs. "Tested in a good way, yes, baby?" Taehyung nods. "Nothing going numb, hurting too bad?" Taehyung shakes his head.

"Okay," Jimin decides. "Gonna go really hard on you now, okay? Still wanna continue?”

Taehyung shivers. "Please," he whispers, and the fond smile on Jimin's face switches back to something sinister.

He nods over Taehyung's head. A second later Taehyung is jerking forward with a gasp as pain sears through him, and he only realizes what it is when he's crumpled onto his hands and knees.

Even like that, pain still sears through him. Because instead of an impact, this time, Hoseok had used Jimin's signal to continue to drag his nails down over the forming welts over Taehyung's back, ass, thighs. It stings, and continues to sting, worse than the moment of impact from any of the toys they'd hit him with.

Trembling, Taehyung hears behind him, "He's getting off easy, don't you think?" and he has to curl forward in on himself again when he feels Hoseok kick the sole of his boot at Taehyung's thighs, ass, everywhere smarting, and then press down on his balls between his legs. Taehyung wails, crawling forward til he's practically drooling onto Jimin's shoes again.

"Not easy enough for what he did," Jimin says calmly. "Joonie, what do you think?"

Remembering Namjoon is here, still watching Taehyung crawl and lick their boots and be hit—oh fuck— it sends a jolt through Taehyung's body, of pleasure and of desperation. He jerks his head up, teary eyed.

"Please, sirs, I learned my lesson," Taehyung pleads, "Test me again, test me with the nice riding crop, I'll be so good—"

He cuts off with a cry as Jimin fists a hand in his hair, dragging and throwing him forward. "Who asked you, bitch?" Jimin snarls. He kicks at Taehyung's side, and Taehyung struggles up to his hands and knees again, head hanging. "If you liked the crop so much, you should've spread your legs for it the first time. Then we wouldn't have to be here, would we, painslut?"

"N-No, master," Taehyung gasps. Jimin doesn't answer. Instead he swings his leg over Taehyung, and—

Oh, Taehyung is used to this. Used to Jimin sitting up on Taehyung's back, ignoring the tremble of Taehyung's limbs holding them both up. It's a test of his strength, of his endurance, and is a common pose of Jimin's during shows. Facing backward, giving him a full range of access to torture and oversee the torture that Taehyung gets— from behind, he realizes with a heady swirl of arousal and apprehension.

"Stay still," Jimin threatens with a pinch at his ass. "Drop me and you'll be sleeping in the bedside kennel for a month."

"Yes, Master," Taehyung half-sobs. "I'm good, I'm good, I promise."

"We'll see," Hoseok says, to his side. He's... circling around them? Taehyung looks up through his bangs to see Hoseok stop before him, a wicked grin on his face... as he unfastens his belt.

Taehyung groans. Satisfied that he's seen what's coming, Hoseok chuckles and walks back behind him. Taehyung's limbs shake more, now, with Jimin's weight and with the fear of knowing what's coming but not when.

There's not really any way to prepare himself. The belt cracks as it lands on Taehyung's ass, and Taehyung wails, swaying forward. Only his rigorous training keeps him upright, beginning to sweat from the physical duress. Straddled atop him, Jimin runs a soothing hand down his side.

"Do you— Would you like me to count, sirs," Taehyung gasps out.

"Hmm," Jimin muses loudly. "Namjoon?"

Taehyung strains to look up under his bangs again, and almost moans at the sight. Namjoon is watching him, not-so-subtly palming himself over his pants. He's getting off to Taehyung's punishment, and the thought of it almost makes him drool on the floor. The reflex is even harder to suppress thinking about how, if seen, the two doms might rub his face in it.

Namjoon looks flustered. "Whatever you— whatever his trainers think is best," his cheeks flush.

"Hmm," Jimin considers again, and slaps Taehyung's ass. Taehyung flinches, and whimpers in acknowledgment. "Pet, do you remember what you told me about counting? When we planned today?"

Taehyung searches his memory, and feels his cheeks heat in embarrassment. "That— That having to count for you makes me feel obedient."

"Right, but what else," Jimin prompts. "Specifically... about not counting."

Taehyung remembers in a flash, and hangs his head again. "That... when I don't count, I lose track."

Again, there's no warning until the belt smacks against his ass. Taehyung jerks away from it with a rough cry, only correcting his balance at the last second. Jimin must have signaled to Hoseok to hit him again.

"Be more descriptive for our guests," Jimin sighs. "Unless the belt isn't enough motivation for you?"

"No, no, master, I—" Taehyung shudders, and swallows, "I told you that—that when I don't count, I lose track, and I just—take the hits, and get so h-high on it, that it feels so good," he burns admitting it.

The answer must be sufficient, because Jimin hums sweetly above him, and pats his back. "That's right, you did," he says, "And why is that, Taehyungie?"

"Because—" Taehyung feels a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. He's strong after the conditioning training he's been through, hours of holding difficult poses and objects, but the fear listening for the next hit of the belt is affecting him more than he thought he might. He knows the answer Jimin wants, and whimpers, "Because I'm a painslut."

"Bingo!" Jimin cheers, and Taehyung lets out a little whine to feel Jimin's hands on his ass, kneading before spreading him. Spreading him for—

The belt cracks again, this time against his hole and balls where Jimin has spread him. Taehyung screams, lurching forward enough that Jimin pinches at his side for rocking him.

Taehyung is well used to pain, and has grown to enjoy the test of enduring it over the years, but it's a whole other level of challenging to have to hold still with Jimin sitting on his back while he takes it. Wrought with the sting of the punishments and the desire to prove himself, to make Jimin proud, Taehyung burns with it.

"So you're not going to count this time," Jimin instructs, pressing a comforting hand against Taehyung's ribs where they heave with his breath. "You're just going to get nice and lost in the pain, got it?"

"Yes, sir," Taehyung whispers, and braces himself for the whistle of the belt once more.

True to his word, Taehyung loses track when he doesn't have a count to hold onto. His entire world becomes the sting of the belt against his ass and thighs, becomes Jimin's murmurs and hands soothing along his sides. Becomes the pain, and the pride in taking it, in showing how well Jimin has trained him as he trembles and aches and the tears sting hot in his eyes and down his cheeks.

He barely feels when it stops, still tensed for the next blow even when he feels Jimin's weight lift off his back. Until familiar hands are cupping his cheeks, and lifting his face so Taehyung is looking into Jimin's eyes.

"Baby," Jimin breathes. Taehyung keens for him, nuzzling up wordlessly, and Jimin follows the motion, pressing their foreheads together and rubbing their noses. "I know, baby. It hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Taehyung sniffles, and Jimin brushes his thumbs over Taehyung's cheeks to wipe at his tears. "I'm being good?"

"The best," Jimin promises him, and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips. Taehyung tries to follow it, craving the comfort, and Jimin allows him one more before whispering against his lips, "You're taking everything so well. Such a good boy, the best boy. My good boy."

"Yours..."

"Took your punishment so well," Jimin continues, keeps giving little kisses on Taehyung's lips, cheeks, nose. "You hurt so good for us, pretty baby. And now you can show what you learned, yeah? Be real good for us to see?"

"I will," Taehyung sniffles. "I'm a good boy, good pet, m'gonna be good."

"I know you are. My good pet," Jimin says sweetly. "Whenever you're ready."

"Can I— I need a moment," Taehyung admits quietly. And they've been playing together so long, any guilt he might ever feel from that has been talked over between them and all but nonexistent.

Still, it always makes him feel better when Jimin soothes, "Of course," and pulls Taehyung closer to him. Taehyung closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing the way Jimin taught him, because Jimin has trained him as much in care and comfort as he has pain. A steady in, out, in, out, grounding himself.

Jimin soothes him through it, goes from cupping his cheeks to pulling Taehyung into a fierce hug. Taehyung ends up nestled into his chest, Jimin careful of his bruising backside. He runs a hand over Taehyung's hair and kisses everywhere he can reach, and as Taehyung breathes, he murmurs sweet reassurances.

"It's okay to cry, baby, you're doing so much and so well," Jimin mumbles to him between his kisses and pets. "Breathe with me, darling. You're okay. You're with me. I've got you."

Taehyung isn't sure how long he stays like that, controlling his breathing and letting Jimin soothe and rock him. Eventually, though, he shudders out a steady exhale, and sits up. He still has the sharp sting of the blows he'd taken all over, but his breathing has slowed, and his head has cleared. He feels less of the helplessness the belt had driven home, and more of the forming desire to prove himself anew.

"Okay," Taehyung inhales. It's fulfilling. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure you want to continue?" Jimin asks, still playing a hand in his hair. "We don't have to, sweetheart."

Taehyung shakes his head. "I want it," he says firmly. "I'm fine. I wanna be good, Jiminie, please."

"Okay, baby," Jimin hums, after a repeat of the earlier round of safety check, because Jimin's always exceptionally careful even where he doesn't need to be and Taehyung loves him for it. "I know you're gonna be a good boy, now, aren't you? Took your punishment so well, you're gonna spread your legs and show us what you've learned, right?"

"Yes, sir," Taehyung says determinedly. "Please, let me prove myself."

Jimin brushes his thumb over Taehyung's cheek one last time and stands up.

"Let's see if he's learned anything," Jimin calls lazily to Hoseok and Namjoon with his familiar showman's charm. Taehyung had almost forgotten they were there for the moment Jimin had given him to recover, he'd been so focused on his husband's comfort. "Pet," Taehyung snaps back to attention. "Roll over onto your back, just like that, pretty pet. Spread your legs, you know what to do."

Taehyung rolls onto his back, wincing and letting out a whimper at the pressure of the floor against the forming welts and bruises on his back, ass and thighs. It's almost an exact mimic of his earlier pose, the one that had gotten him into so much trouble. This time, his spread legs tremble in midair.

"He remembers the pose, let's see if he can hold it," he hears Hoseok say. And ruffling over by the bench that sounds like Jimin's bag being messed with. A murmur from Namjoon he can't make out.

Taehyung is focused, though, on Jimin, down beside him again. He sits this time, cross-legged at Taehyung's side, and when Taehyung meets his eye, he gives Taehyung a sweet smile. Reaches out, rubbing at Taehyung's stomach like he might a dog, except the skin is still pinkened from the cane on his front earlier and Taehyung whimpers for it.

"You're going to prove you learned your lesson now," Jimin tells him matter-of-factly, tracing his hand over Taehyung's soft stomach. "I know you won't disappoint me a second time. Be good like I trained you, and then maybe you'll even get a reward, hm?"

Taehyung sticks his tongue out and nods. Hoseok and Namjoon re-enter his peripheral vision, in time for Taehyung to watch Hoseok hand Namjoon his riding crop from earlier.

"Feel free to test our work," Hoseok says brightly, nudging the toe of his boot at one of the marks forming on Taehyung's ass. Taehyung makes a small noise, but keeps his pose held still. "I think you'll be quite pleased. Any training can sort out a disobedient bitch, if you're strict enough."

"Have you learned your lesson, Taehyungie?" Namjoon says with his soft sternness. He rubs the end of the crop against Taehyung's cock, limp from the pain, teasingly. Taehyung groans. "Are you ready to keep your legs open?"

"Yes, sir," Taehyung manages, practically squirming. It's— fuck, it's the first time he's been touched other than hits with props and cruel pinches and slaps. Probably, he thinks dizzily, the pleasure-reinforcement of training at the end of the pain. "I'm good, I'm gonna be good."

The strike of the riding crop against his inner thigh— it still has its pleasurable association that had riled Taehyung up earlier, but there's a new twinge of pain that keeps him in check and reminds him of the session he'd just received, since the crop comes biting down on a red spot from the belt. Taehyung jerks, but keeps his legs open.

"Would you— would you like me to count, sirs," he manages, dick twitching against his belly.

"Just keep your legs open, slut," Hoseok says. "You don't even wanna know what we'll do to you if you close them again."

Warmth rushes through his body at the talking-down to. Taehyung nods furiously, and focuses on keeping his shaking legs apart. As Namjoon tests him, both on his new marks and the few spots of unblemished skin, starting soft then laying it down harder and harder when he realizes Taehyung can take it. And take it he does, with more moans than complaints, even as the ache of the earlier blows begins to set in, as he gets hopelessly, pathetically hard from the softer attentions of Namjoon's crop.

"He's doing well," Jimin croons from Taehyung's side, still seated in such a precious cross-legged pose. It almost makes it worse when Jimin reaches to drag his fingers over Taehyung's inner thighs, cruelty amidst the cute.

Drags his fingers, then ghosts his fingertips, and—Taehyung gasps when Jimin tickles at his inner thighs. He digs a nail into a forming bruise, just giving Taehyung a smile to hear his whimper as he struggles to keep his legs open.

"Go ahead and hit his dick, Joonie," Jimin says casual as anything. "I know you want to. That should fix whatever had him rubbing his thighs together like a greedy little whore earlier."

Taehyung gasps. Hoseok peers hungrily. Namjoon, a little uncertain.

"I've only ever used the crop on the rest of his body," he admits. "Is that okay?"

Jimin grins. "You haven't? Oh, you've been missing out."

Namjoon blushes. "Well, he's always locked up when we play."

"Mm, true. But hey, here's an opportunity," Taehyung isn't sure whether to feel excitement or dismay, as Jimin waves a hand. "He's used to worse, you soft fucker. I daresay the crop is a treat for him at this point. Here."

Taehyung can't help a groan as Jimin grabs the head of his dick impartially, lifting to press it roughly against his stomach. Excitement swirls low in his stomach, both at the touch and at the sight of the crop in Namjoon's hand.

"Easy target," Jimin hums, and squeezes the head of Taehyung's dick to elicit another groan from him. "If you're comfortable, feel free. I do loan him to you for practice, you know."

Namjoon is hesitant, at first. The tap of the crop is more of a caress, from just below Jimin's hand down to the base. Soft enough to have Taehyung clenching with a whimper. He realizes he's digging his nails into his palms in anticipation.

Then Namjoon brings the crop up, and down, with an actual hit. It's still soft, but enough of a tap Taehyung feels it, and moans throatily at the attention. He blinks his eyes open weakly to see an impressed—and turned on—Hoseok and Namjoon, and Jimin's expression proudly smug.

Namjoon brings the crop down again. And again, and again, until Taehyung is twitching and whimpering. Until Jimin is gripping a hand in his hair, as comforting and familiar as it is threatening, and doesn't have to hold Taehyung in the touch he craves anymore, because Namjoon is having enough fun now to aim on his own.

"Keep your legs spread," Jimin calls sweetly down to Taehyung. "And don't you dare fucking come. I know you can come from having your cock hit, you needy whore, but you're not allowed without permission."

"I won’t, I won’t," Taehyung sobs, and shudders. Hoseok and Namjoon are similarly enjoying themselves, passing the crop between each other and learning that really, nothing is off limits. Still testing his thighs, that shake from the stimulation, and now hitting the crop progressively harder against Taehyung's dick and balls and stomach and anywhere else they find fun.

At some point, Jimin yanks Taehyung up by his collar to pull him into his chest. So Taehyung is sitting up, back pressed to Jimin's chest, and still expected to stay open and hurt and good. He does, trembling like a leaf in Jimin's arms from the pain and the pleasure, and squeezes Jimin's fingers reassuringly in their safety pattern when Jimin places them into his open palm.

"Master," Taehyung whispers, when he's turned his head involuntarily into Jimin's neck and his breathing has quickened. Still obediently keeping his legs spread, his body available for targeting; pretty and vulnerable and bruised, naked except for his silver eternity collar and cuffs that never come off. The thought sends another wave of pleasure rushing dangerously through them. "Jimin, I'm really close. I... I might come with more."

"Is that so," Jimin drawls meanly. Taehyung sniffles. "Were you going to ask, or were you just going to try to get it past us?"

"No, no, never," Taehyung shakes his head, "No, I just— Telling you."

"Of course you are. And why's that?"

"Because," Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut tight. "M'not allowed to come. Not til—our anniversary."

Jimin's lips press a soft kiss to his temple. "That's right, baby," he says softly. "So what do you want?"

"I want— I don't want to come," Taehyung shakes his head. Blinks his eyes open a slit, to see Hoseok fisting himself openly, and Namjoon biting his lip as he trails the crop across Taehyung's soft stomach. "Please, Minnie, don't let me come."

"Perfect boy," Jimin says sweetly. Then to the others, "That's enough fun for my slave, I think." Taehyung can feel the curve of his smile against his temple. "It's our turn."

The sting of the hits persists, giving Taehyung a lovely buzz and focusing point as he works. It's not as sharp as taking the impact at the time had been, but more of an ache all across his skin that makes itself known the longer it has to grow. Makes him feel fuzzy, as endorphins race through his body, responding to his punished skin.

"Keep your hands behind your back," Jimin warns him, voice breathy but still controlled and controlling. Taehyung hadn't even realized they were starting to rise, and laces his fingers together more tightly to keep them back.

To be fair, he always gets a little lost when his mouth is being used. Hours of oral training, taking dildos deeper and deeper, inch by inch, under Jimin's watchful eye and rewarded with pleasure, had done that to him years ago. There's an association now, and he's just too good at enjoying it.

Both the act itself, and knowing what it does for others. Taehyung has always loved servicing through and through, and pleasing Jimin even more, so when Jimin grips his hair and forces him down farther to choke on Namjoon's dick, he's grateful for it. Grateful to have the chance to stuff his mouth, as Jimin always gleefully teases him, and make his owner proud.

Jimin only pulls him off when Namjoon groans that he's close. Taehyung blinks up at them blearily, tongue still out, his chin sloppy and wet.

"Go ahead and come on him," Jimin says with a loving twist of Taehyung's hair in his hand. "Beg him for it, Taetae."

"Please," Taehyung rasps obediently, blinking up at Namjoon with wet eyes. "Please come on me. I like it, I want it..."

That's all it takes. Namjoon groans, and Taehyung pants his tongue back out to catch as much as he can. Jimin doesn't have to remind him what to do next, Taehyung already knows, and babbles, "Thank you, sir."

"Good boy. Don't think you're done," Jimin says sweetly. "You've got our other guest to thank for treating you so well."

Taehyung sinks his mouth down onto Hoseok with Namjoon's cum still dotting his lips. Again he loses himself easily, circling his mouth and rocking himself up and down the length with the expertise of years of training with both plastic and flesh.

Hoseok doesn't take long to finish. It makes sense, with how liberally he'd been touching himself toward the end of the scene, but Taehyung's head is still foggy enough that it feels like it's only been a few minutes that Hoseok pushes him up gently. Taehyung licks his swelling lips and blinks up at him nonplussed.

But he hasn't done anything wrong. Hoseok smiles sheepishly and asks, "Taehyungie—or, Jimin, I guess, hm," he pauses a moment, considering the power dynamic, but must be too close to the edge to care too much, and shakes his head. "Can I come on your ass? Where we bruised you up so nice."

"Oh," Taehyung blinks again, and sucks his breath in before giving a little smile. "That's so hot, please, yes."

Jimin nods, approving it, and helps him turn and lean forward, as weary as Taehyung's knees and elbows are getting by now. Taehyung sticks his ass up, and shivers when Hoseok's moan is followed by the feeling of a few warm stripes over the stinging welts on his ass and thighs.

“Fuck,” Hoseok sighs. “Fuck, Taehyung. Always so good. Maybe I should lend you Namjoon for some training, Jimin.”

“Hey,” Namjoon flushes, and flails a weak hand at Hoseok. Out of the corner of his eye, Taehyung can see Jimin smile at them, but turn most of his attention to Taehyung.

"Did you enjoy that, my best boy?" Jimin asks as he pulls him up, more gently but hand still hooked on Taehyung's collar. 

Taehyung licks at his lips, and gives a fast nod, eagerness coursing through him to think of the opportunity he has next—pleasing Jimin directly.

Jimin laughs at the obvious excitement on his face. "Oh, good. Looks like you did learn your lesson today, huh? Aren't you so grateful?"

"Yes, yes, sirs, thank you," Taehyung says, quickly, making sure to thank Hoseok and Namjoon as well. After all, they’re the ones who agreed to make this scene a reality, but it isn’t over yet. And Taehyung has come so close, he has something he only occasionally dares to ask. He looks back up at Jimin and bites his lip. "Jimin, may I... could I ask..."

Jimin cups Taehyung’s cheek affectionately, patting it. "Go ahead."

Even with the permission, Taehyung shrinks. Fumbling with his cuffs, he asks, "I was good, right?"

"Very good," Jimin replies, eyes sparkling. He knows Taehyung too well, and has probably already guessed where this is going. "Is that all you wanted to hear, or do you have something to ask me?"

Taehyung bites his lip. "I thought—maybe, since I was really good, if I could..." he does his best to keep his legs still spread, his hands off himself at his sides, and looks up hopefully. "Could I have... did I earn a ruined orgasm, please?"

Jimin snorts, and ruffles at his hair. "Ah, darling, you're so predictable," he sighs. "Wasn't it kind enough I unlocked your cage? You practically leaked enough to count as an orgasm anyway."

Taehyung keens at the cruel words. "It was kind of you, it was, Jiminie. I just thought... maybe..."

"You thought maybe," Jimin repeats back when Taehyung trails off. He taps a finger to his chin, and then crouches down. Taehyung blinks at him, suddenly so close "How's this, my Taehyungie," Jimin murmurs. "You can choose between a ruin and finishing the scene, or getting facefucked and getting to swallow my cum without any further touch. It's your choice."

Maybe to others it seems like an easy choice, but not a lot about their particular dynamic and life they've built together makes sense to a lot of others, either. Taehyung wraps his arms around himself in a hug, half-thinking, and half-pouting because of course Jimin knows what he's going to pick, being so properly trained.

"Please... use me instead," Taehyung says, after not even a minute of weighing it. "I wanna make you feel good, Jimin, more than... more than me feeling anything."

"Is that so? What a wonderfully trained pet you are," Jimin coos at him delightedly. "You see why I keep you denied, love? You make such better decisions, knowing whose pleasure is more important. Now open up, show off for our friends."

Taehyung opens his mouth obediently, again. Jimin kicks at Taehyung's thighs before he unzips his pants, a reminder to keep his legs open.

That's okay, because Taehyung immerses himself so easily in oral he almost forgets about the throbbing between his legs. Almost.

Jimin definitely shows off for the other two, as though it's their first time watching Jimin and Taehyung play (it certainly isn't.) He fists Taehyung's hair again to yank his head back, and squeezes Taehyung's tongue between his fingers like he's clinically checking if Taehyung's mouth is good enough for him. It passes the test, apparently, because Jimin guides his cock onto Taehyung's tongue after, and shoves him down until Taehyung's nose is bumping Jimin's stomach and fucks into his mouth to chase his climax.

He's fast, too. Taehyung preens that Jimin's always named him his best, that they're so attuned to each other Taehyung knows how to make Jimin come in minutes or drag it out for an hour. Today, though, is entirely his control, and that's another skill of Taehyung's too, just keeping himself open and breathless and used. A skill he has thanks to their relationship together, to Jimin's training.

When Jimin comes, tapping his cock against Taehyung's outstretched tongue, he all but purrs in contentment. "Good boy. Beautiful boy," Jimin praises him when Taehyung keeps his tongue out for Jimin to check and for permission. Jimin spits on the mess on his tongue, and only then murmurs, "Go ahead, swallow your reward."

Taehyung swallows obediently, the arousal low in his belly even more pronounced after the pleasure of knowing Jimin got to use him. Is proud of him. But he reminds himself, with a deep breath, this is why he's surrendered that control to Jimin: the feeling of never knowing what he'll get, that Jimin owns every part of him.

"Thank you, sir."

Taehyung shuffles back around on his knees to face Hoseok and Namjoon, excited to see their reactions to Jimin taking his mouth as forcefully as he does.

But he's surprised, instead, when he hears Jimin drop to his knees behind him. When he feels Jimin's arms circle around him from behind, and Jimin's hand curls around his cock, and Jimin's voice is low enough in his ear to stir his hair.

"You were so good today, of course you were so good," Jimin murmurs. Taehyung can only gasp, and melt back against his chest, as Jimin pumps a slow hand up and down his length. "So proud of everything you took, so proud of you for picking that mean second choice, my darling, of course you earned a nice ruin before I lock you back up..."

"J-Jimin," Taehyung manages, head rolling back and swimming with the sudden pleasure after all the pain and—when had it been since he was last touched, and then only to edge? A week? Too long. Arousal, the constant ache he lives with and the wave its ridden all through his punishments today, builds in him too fast. "Oh, god, Jiminie, please, thank you, please, I want it s-soo bad..."

"Mm," Jimin purrs, and nuzzles into his neck, sucking at the skin there. "You see," and Taehyung realizes with another jolt through his body Jimin is addressing Hoseok and Namjoon again. Who look enthralled, when Taehyung manages to slit his eyes open to see their reaction before the pleasure overtakes him once more. "How good denial makes him. That he chooses my pleasure over his, and melts like this with just barely any touch..."

"Please," Taehyung whispers, heart in his throat. It's too hot, hearing himself be talked about, has always been a favorite of his and has been just on the border of too-much all day. "Oh, Jimin, please, god, let me c— hhn, no, don't let me come. Ruin it, I'm good, m'just so happy, oh please—"

"Shh," Jimin hushes him and busies himself making another mark on his neck. "It's only been a month since your last ruin, baby, how worked up have you been? Moaning like a whore in heat—ah, there you go."

Jimin reads the tells of his body all-too-well. He knows when Taehyung's reached his edge almost before Taehyung does, and lets go just over the precipice. He holds Taehyung close to him as Taehyung jerks, and then sobs, his hips working uselessly against the air as his poor dick just barely spits out a dribble of cum. It crashes over him, that relief-but-not-relief, at least a sort of climax, a conclusion, and Jimin rocks him through the tears that always come with an intense one.

"Thank you," Taehyung babbles when he can manage it. "Oh, Jimin, thank you. Thank you for—for my ruin, for everything, today, thank you—"

"Of course, baby, of course, shh," Jimin soothes a hand down his stomach, and gives a soft, kind little laugh to see tears on Taehyung's cheeks again. He kisses them away, but it just makes more flow.

Taehyung turns into Jimin's chest to curl close to him. Just barely, he hears Jimin tell Namjoon and Hoseok that they'll meet them upstairs, they know where the bathrooms are, that ruins like this are always a lot for Taehyung—all that really matters is his whole world narrows to Jimin. Jimin, wrapping his arms back around Taehyung and rocking him, humming a song into his hair.

Jimin doesn't let him go when his tears die down, only when Taehyung himself pulls back to look up at Jimin.

"Sorry," Taehyung says with a sniffle. "You know I—they always make me so. Ahh."

"Ahh," Jimin repeats back sweetly, thumbing at Taehyung's cheek. "I know, baby. The crash always gets you."

"I didn't mean to chase them away," Taehyung says with a guilty glance to the door. "I'm so happy they did this with us, Jimin, really."

"You'll have lots of time to tell them, remember we're all going to talk about this," Jimin nuzzles closer to Taehyung to press a kiss into his hair. "Does that mean you enjoyed yourself?"

Taehyung nods passionately enough to accidentally knock Jimin's chin away, and the two of them giggle together.

"I really did, Jimin," Taehyung promises. "I'm really glad I got to get this out. And, um, thank you for letting me have a ruin."

Jimin's response is another kiss, this time to Taehyung's forehead. "Do you want to put your cage back on now? Or wait a bit?" he asks softly.

Taehyung thinks about it. "Now," he decides. "I like having it on. Feeling it. Makes me think about, you know, you. Us."

"You're so precious," Jimin sighs, and helps Taehyung up and over to the bench with a firm hand. There he picks up the cage to give to Taehyung, and watches Taehyung pull the ring on and fit the cage over himself dutifully. Only then does Jimin lift the necklace the key dangles from over his head to lock the padlock back on himself, always a good self-tease.

"Okay, baby," Jimin says fondly as he tugs the necklace back on. "How's a bath sound, hm? And then we'll all cuddle together and get some nice lotion on all your pretty new marks. That sound good?"

"The best," Taehyung sighs, and stands—only to let out a yelp when Jimin sweeps his legs out from underneath him to hoist Taehyung up into a bridal carry in his arms. "Jimin! Warn me!"

"So picky," Jimin clicks his tongue, "So I can arrange for our friends to give you literal hell of a punishment, but I can't sweep you off your feet when the mood strikes?"

Taehyung dissolves his pout by leaning up to throw his arms around Jimin's neck and give him a kiss. "You love me," he says, "You're lucky to have me!"

It's pretty much a joke, but Jimin's eyes and smile are still soft.

"I do," he says, sweet enough it brings a blush to Taehyung's face. "And yes, I am."

Chapter Text

Jimin and Taehyung look good when they kiss. Look good always, but there's just something special to it when it's like this—like today, giggling and gasping and almost completely ignoring Jungkook.

Not really, he knows. But it's an illusion well enough maintained that Jungkook's whole body burns with it. Curled in on himself as he is, muzzled and plugged and hoping they decide soon to play with him. If they decide to play with him.

Right now, they're above him, and still quite occupied with each other. Tangled together on the bed, flushed prettily under each others' hands and mouths, because Taehyung so loves to be watched, and just for that Jimin will remind him every so often of their audience.

"Baby," Jimin croons right on time, privately enough it could be for Taehyung's ears alone, were it not accented by a smug glance to the side. His hair, mussed from Taehyung's hands tangled into it, falls almost into his eyes. Jungkook catches the look, and shrinks pleasantly. Almost whimpers, if the sound could be coherent around today’s inventive gag. "Oh, baby, he's watching you."

They're close enough for the whisper to stir Taehyung's hair. Taehyung barely spares Jungkook a glance, just enough to smirk at him before dipping his head back to Jimin's neck.

"Let him," Taehyung breathes into the curve of Jimin's jaw, loud enough for him to hear. "He's so desperate when it's all he gets."

This time, Jungkook does whine, and loud enough to overcome the gag—an open, metal ring, stretching his lips into a pretty oh that's barely visible under the muzzle strapped onto his face. Both of them laugh at the throaty sound, and Jungkook squirms. Dares not blink, lest he miss a second of the display before him.

He's been told to be still, and quiet, and gagged to make the point, but it's hard. Because while his boyfriends make out leisurely on the bed, Jungkook is locked inside the kennel beside it.

In such a gloriously embarrassing predicament. Stuffed full with their largest size plug, naked but for the gag and muzzle over it and the collar around his neck. A bell dangles off it, tied by Taehyung's soothing hands to bounce at Jungkook's throat and give him away when desperation overcomes him and he begins to rock unconsciously against nothing.

He's pleasantly hot with the frustration of watching, and the humiliation of being ignored, and trying-but-failing to swallow back spit and resist drooling on himself. A task that becomes harder the longer his jaw stays locked open around the metal ring, and more embarrassing for that muzzle buckled over it.

"Baby, he looks—mmf," Jimin's giggle dissolves into Taehyung's kiss. Open mouthed and messy enough that Jungkook can watch Jimin's bottom lip caught and tugged between Taehyung's teeth, and fuck, he can't help it. He moans again, wishes to feel anything like their touch on him but kept locked away below them instead. Left to the cold bars of the kennel, and resigned to watching his boyfriends enjoy themselves—and his torment—with ever-rising frustration.

It's everything he could ever ask for.

"You just wanna play with the dog, huh?" Taehyung teases Jimin with it, murmuring the question between kisses and pinching at Jimin's side. Jimin twitches with it, tips his head back with such a pleased hum that Jungkook fears he's been forgotten. He whines again.

It gets a sneer from Taehyung, but works. Jimin pushes them both up, swinging his legs off the bed to sit up. So pretty, his lips kissed red by attention Jungkook has been neglected, and Jimin coos at him. He even leans down to press a hand to the cage, and Jungkook does his best to reach it from behind the bars.

"Poor baby," Jimin croons, hand slipping through the bars of the kennel to pet at Jungkook's hair. "Are you getting jealous locked up down there? You want some attention, too?"

His tone is absolutely so reminiscent to that of an owner calling to a pet. Just that level of fond, almost baby-talk to make Jungkook feel all the perfect shades of small and dumb and needy. Cementing the sentiment even further, Jimin scratches behind Jungkook's ear.

Jungkook can't bring himself to care; if anything, his interest increases tenfold. All he can do through that damnable open-mouth gag is pant, and nod, drool smearing his chin despite his best efforts, so that it's beginning to even drip through the holes in the muzzle.

"Just wanna be played with, hm?" Jimin continues to tease. Jungkook falls right into its trap, and nods even more frantically, his cheeks hot.

They redden even further when Jimin sighs. "But bad dogs don't get played with, do they, baby?" and stops petting his hair, drops his hand instead to wipe at where he's drooled through the muzzle. "They drool, and cry, and beg for anything at all."

It hits Jungkook hard. He shudders, another whine slipping around the gag. Jimin's kind smile never fades, even as he wipes his own spit off Jungkook's cheek where the straps of the muzzle bite into it.

"Aw, Jiminie, don't be so mean," Taehyung clicks his tongue, far from disapprovingly. His next words carry the same sweet mockery. "He's just in heat."

Jimin laughs. Jungkook hangs his head, dizzy with arousal.

"So you think we should play with him, then? He has been so good and quiet," Jimin soothes. "What do you say, darling? Would you like that?" The noises Jungkook can barely manage around the gag seem only to amuse his boyfriends. "Really? Anything at all?"

"If he's so eager, then let's let him stretch his legs, Minnie," Taehyung says sweetly. "Why don't you get his treat?"

The two share a smirk, one Jungkook can't quite decipher. He knows they'd gotten something in the mail last week, a rather large box they'd had Jungkook carry in for them. And then left sealed in the living room, so the mystery of it was never quite out of Jungkook's mind, and brushed off his queries about it.

With a parting kiss, Jimin slips off the bed and out the bedroom door. Left alone Jungkook might watch him go, try to listen for the sounds of the unboxing, but he's distracted by Taehyung plopping down cross legged down in front of the kennel.

"C'mon, Gukkie," Taehyung hums. He reaches, and with just a click of the latch the kennel door swings open. "Come let Master take a look at you."

Crawling out of the kennel is almost as embarrassing as being in it. He's a clumsy thing, on hands and knees indented pink by the crossed lines of the metal bars serving as the cage's floor. When he has to lower his head, he can barely swallow back the spit that threatens to drip from his lips and through the muzzle encasing them. Furthermore Taehyung's hooked his hand in the collar, tugging Jungkook along and out by the back of his neck. Like the pet he is, he's heard often enough from them during scenes like this one for it to echo lovingly in his head now. To beat dizzyingly again through his head, with each jingle of the bell against his throat.

Taehyung lets go of the collar to ruffle Jungkook's hair when he's out and on all fours in front of him. With enough affection that Jungkook tries with his aching lips to smile around the gag. It doesn't really work, but the effort doesn't slip past Taehyung—nothing ever really does—and he grins at Jungkook in response, plants a smack of a kiss on the bridge of the muzzle. Cruel even in that kindness, because Jungkook is already unable to kiss back with a gag, and the muzzle only further denies him the pleasure of even feeling Taehyung's lips on his.

"Did you enjoy watching us? Bet you wished you were up there with us too, right?" Taehyung asks sweetly. It's not really a question. The answer is obvious. Head spinning, Jungkook tries another wordless plea of a whine. And sometimes he thinks Taehyung can read his mind, because his grin widens, and he whispers. "But I think you liked watching even more than playing along. Look how hard you are."

Even if Jungkook were able to speak, he couldn't deny it. Taehyung squeezes his shoulders reassuringly before dancing hands down Jungkook's front, touching him anywhere and everywhere he wants. Tickles at his side, pinches a nipple, rubs down his stomach, and even before his hand reaches farther Jungkook's shaking with the embarrassment of being inspected like an animal.

Taehyung only just ghosts a hand over his dick, watching Jungkook melt with intense eyes before curling his hand into a loose fist. The touch is worse than nothing. More immediate is Taehyung using his other hand to reach around to the plug filling Jungkook, giving the toy a twist before—pulling it just out to catch his rim, then pushing it back in, fucking it in and out of him like that. It elicits another muffled moan, one accented by the strings of drool he's too distracted now to keep trying to hold back and too aroused to care.

"Yes, I think you liked it like this more. The muzzle reminded you what you are, right?" Taehyung kisses the muzzle again, and it's somehow worse now, alongside his pretty words that make Jungkook's head spin. "You're so hard. Jiminie saw, too. How could he not, when you kept whining for attention?"

Overwhelmed with the casual inspection and sweet taunts, Jungkook leans forward on trembling hands to hide his face in Taehyung's shoulder. He forgets the muzzle, and gets knocked aside a little trying to nuzzle into him, but it just sinks him even lower into that so-lovely-so-dumb headspace.

Taehyung makes a fond noise, and ceases his ministrations to wrap his arms instead around Jungkook and keep him pulled into a hug and rub his back as he trembles.

“It’s okay. We know you like to be used. That’s why you’re all nice and stuffed with your plug, right?” his murmur has Jungkook’s cheeks burning hot again. “Don’t worry. We’ve gotten you just the thing you need.”

Even taunting him, he keeps Jungkook in the embrace, holding him gentle but firm. Firm enough, in fact, that when Jungkook hears Jimin re-enter the room behind him, and instinctively tries to turn to see, Taehyung keeps him pressed close and unable to look.

"Cute," he can hear Jimin comment on their embrace affectionately, a few feet away. The clang of something being set up he can't quite make out. And then footsteps coming closer, and a body settling behind him to kiss his neck. Jimin's voice much closer, just behind him now, "You're not being too mean to him, are you?"

"Just a bit of teasing," Taehyung replies innocently over Jungkook's shoulder. Jungkook's close enough to feel the hum of the words in Taehyung's throat. "He didn't need much to get worked up. I think he liked watching us, Jimin."

"Of course he did," Jimin fusses, and Jungkook exhales to feel smaller hands pulling at him. Taehyung lets him go, so he can be pulled back into Jimin's arms instead, his back to Jimin's chest. Jimin smacks a kiss to Jungkook's cheek, just above where the muzzle bites into it. "Oh, baby. Are you ready for your surprise?"

He nods, and gets another kiss from both of them. Jimin to his cheek, Taehyung to the muzzle once again.

Then Jimin stands, and pulls Jungkook by his collar behind him. And when they turn Jungkook sees, in the center of the bedroom, what's been boxed up as a surprise until today.

At first, he doesn't realize what he's looking at. A sort of black box, about as high as his waist when kneeling and curved at its top, wires around it. Then he sees the light color of the attached silicon, molded across the apex of the curve into a kind of seat. The end of the attachment flares upward into the shape of a dildo, and the realization clicks into place.

Jimin and Taehyung bought him a sybian.

"I'd say that's quite the reward, wouldn't you, pup?" Taehyung teases with a pet to Jungkook's head.

Stunned, Jungkook almost forgets the gag despite the ache in his jaw. Tries to question them, thank them, because fuck that had to be expensive and is this real life, but whatever he was going to stammer just makes it past the ring gag as a thick, muffled moan. Both of his boyfriends grin at it.

"Would you like to try your gift, darling?" Jimin asks sweetly. He's clipped a leash onto Jungkook's collar while he was gaping, and is tugging gently on it toward the center of the room. "Already washed and ready for you, our best boy."

Please, Jungkook wants to beg, and again can only produce the messiest whines. Embarrassing, and exciting, and any coherent thought that had resurfaced wondering about logistics and their bank account begins to fade once more with the feeling of his collar being tugged by a leash.

They must have rehearsed this, because there’s no awkward pause of trying to figure out the toy. Jimin squats next to Jungkook to work the plug out of him, while Taehyung gets right to work rolling a condom onto the dildo of the attachment and dripping lube so liberally he all but pours the entire contents of the bottle over the attachment. Jungkook watches with an impatient tremble.

"I can't wait to watch you on this," Jimin sighs. "It was all I could think about the whole time on the bed, baby. You're going to feel so good for us."

"He's drooling all over himself again," Taehyung says cheekily, and Jungkook flushes. "That worked up just from a plug, too! Are you sure you can take this, slut?"

"Of course he can, Tae," Jimin almost scolds, albeit fondly. "Don't tease him too much. At least, not until we turn it on."

Jimin's grin is wicked at his threat. When ready, they both help him onto his knees over it, Taehyung keeping him steady to swing a leg over the machine and Jimin guiding him down onto the attachment. Jungkook groans as he sinks down onto the dildo, so much fuller than the plug and everything he's been craving.

"Good?" Taehyung murmurs to him, and presses a kiss to Jungkook's forehead when he nods. "Good. Good boy."

"Listen now, Jungkookie," Jimin is beautiful before him, hair swept back and earrings hanging pretty and so, so composed. The both of them still fully dressed, and it plays electric over Jungkook's skin as he squirms atop the machine, completely vulnerable and under their care.

But Jimin is serious, too, squatting eye level in front of him. Even holding up a small rubber ball with magnitude, a sight that might be funny out of context.

"You're going to hold this for us," he tells Jungkook. At the same time, on some unbidden cue, Taehyung pulls Jungkook's arms behind him, and Jungkook feels the familiarity of rope working around his wrists. "And if you get overwhelmed, you drop this, and we stop, same as always. Understand?"

Jungkook nods. Behind him, Taehyung finishes up his knots, and says, "Snap twice if you understand Jimin." So Jungkook obeys, and assured, Jimin hands Taehyung the rubber ball over Jungkook's shoulder. It's slipped into Jungkook's hand a second later, and he squeezes onto it tightly. Taehyung gives his fingers a comforting squeeze.

"Well then, pretty baby," Jimin coos, picking up the remote. "Let's get started. God, I’ve been waiting for this..."

Jungkook watches Jimin's hand on the remote with anticipation. Taehyung watches Jungkook with something similar to hunger.

The dial must give easily. Jimin doesn't seem to turn it all that quickly, but it twists far, and before his mind processes the act Jungkook is almost jumping with a yelp as the machine starts.

A yelp that turns into a long plea of a moan, because Jimin's gone to a high level right to begin with, and Jungkook never could have imagined anything felt like this. The entire attachment vibrates. Its dildo fills him, and the toy’s base has enough of a vibration against his balls, and it feels like nothing he's felt before. He begs through the ring gag again, sputtering spit through the muzzle, and feels his whole body trembling with the force of the vibrations.

"Whoops," Jimin says cutely, and twists the dial down. Jungkook sags, and shivers, unsure what's better or worse. The low setting is lovely, perfect to work up to a higher level with, but now that Jungkook's felt what the machine is capable of, it's almost maddeningly not-enough. Jungkook shifts on it, his hands behind him twisting in Taehyung's ropework.

"Careful, Jimin," Taehyung laughs. "Give me the remote if you're gonna give him so much so fast."

Jimin sticks his tongue out at Taehyung. Jungkook follows the exchange desperately, well used to the two of them bickering over him in scenes where he subs. It’s endearing, yeah, but the familiarity doesn’t make it any less frustrating when he’s this worked up.

"I meant to do that. Get him warmed right up," Jimin bluffs. Taehyung rolls his eyes. Jimin turns his attention back to Jungkook with a wicked smile. "Hey, Jungkookie. Was that a lot?"

Jungkook still tries to shape words around the ring of metal in his mouth. It sounds pathetic, and it makes them happy. He's understood, though, considering the question was pretty much rhetorical.

Jimin's eye takes on an evil twinkle. "Well, guess what," he says conspiratorially. "That wasn’t even halfway to full power. We're at least making it past that today, I think. You're fucked, huh?"

Jungkook groans, rocking his hips softly. He's starting to fall into the rhythm of the machine, turned on enough to try and grind himself down onto it and enjoy it.

"Literally," Taehyung adds onto Jimin's question, tangling a hand in Jungkook's hair. His voice is a little less playful now, huskier as his own arousal grows. "Keep moving on it, just like that. Look so good for us, you like your new toy, dog?"

"Of course he does. We’re always spoiling our baby," Jimin sings. His hand moves over the remote again, and Jungkook feels the machine's rhythm increase with the turn of the dial. 

It's not even back to where Jimin had turned it earlier, but already almost overwhelming. A little like being fucked, but on something that hints at mind-breaking power. There's something delicious about the solidity of the silicon, that no matter how hard he grinds down it's solid, unmoving pleasure. And it's not just the dildo part that's making him begin to tremble. The base of the attachment, shaking from the strength of the machine’s vibrations, meets him on the downstroke of his hips, encouraging him to go harder, faster, even humiliate himself bouncing on the machine while his boyfriends watch.

Far from passively, too. Jimin tosses the remote to Taehyung, who catches it with a toothy grin and turns the dial just a little higher. Barely anything, but enough for Jungkook to notice, and feel himself flush all down his front enjoying his present.

Jimin might be a little jealous just watching, because he stands and moves closer. Jungkook's suspicion is confirmed when Jimin unbuckles the muzzle from Jungkook's face with swift fingers, tossing it aside—not without a wrinkled nose, and a chiding, "Jungkookie, you've drooled everywhere."

"Mmhfh," Jungkook tries around the ring gag, hoping the sound is apologetic enough. Needy enough, too, because there's only one reason he can think of for Jimin to take off the muzzle.

Sure enough, he wants his mouth. With practiced ease, Jimin slips his middle and ring fingers into the ring of the gag. Presses them down on Jungkook's tongue, and now he really is drooling again. Jimin fucks his fingers in and out of Jungkook’s mouth leisurely, a string of spit following them out.

Jungkook's eyes are fixed pleadingly on Jimin, so he misses Taehyung twisting the dial up another setting until he feels the machine respond. His moans sound stupid now, muffled by Jimin's fingers in his mouth and hitched as he begins to lift himself up and down on the attachment more earnestly.

"Don't close your eyes. Keep them on me, they were so pretty like that," Jimin tells him. Jungkook lets them fly back open, trying to convey his desperation up to Jimin. His oldest boyfriend just looks amused, and when he takes his fingers out of Jungkook's mouth, he wipes the spit on them across Jungkook's cheek in a slap. "You know what I want, don't you?"

God, does he. Jungkook splays his tongue as best he can through the gag, and feels the pull of the rope around his arms when he tries to reach to beg without thinking. Oh, right. He'd almost forgotten his hands weren't behind him willingly, he’s becoming so lost in the pleasure. The reminder poses no problem for him: if anything, the helplessness triples his arousal.

Jimin demeans him even further by staying clothed. He just unzips his pants and runs his hand across himself with a self-indulged hum. Jungkook grows desperate at the tease, stretching forward as far forward to reach as he can, tongue hanging like the pet they call him.

"You think he's drooling for dick, or he's just been gagged too long?" Jimin doesn't break eye contact with Jungkook, but the casual question is clearly not for him. It's called to Taehyung, because in this scene, Jungkook is a pet, and falling ever deeper into the role. He rocks his hips on the sybian and all but wags his tongue.

"Hmm," Taehyung comments beside Jungkook. He reaches to squeeze Jungkook's tongue between two fingers with clinical examination. "I wouldn't rule it out. He's been crying for cock since we put him in the kennel."

He finishes the assessment with a lazy drawl, knowing the effects the taunting has on Jungkook. Can see them, too, as Jungkook gets swept even further along in the pleasure, burns hot and pleasant that Taehyung kneels and wipes his fingers off on Jungkook's thigh without sparing any further touch for him.

"Guess it's not spoiling him too much to give him what he wants from time to time," Jimin pretends to consider, his sigh pleasant as he continues to stroke himself. He leans down closer to Jungkook's face, and cups Jungkook's jaw with one hand, thumbing along his cheek. "Now, I know I don't need to remind you," Jimin says dryly, "but keep your mouth nice and open and wet for me, okay?"

Cruel. As though Jungkook's jaw isn't aching around the metal of the ring gag. He couldn't close his mouth even if he wanted to. Before he uses him, Jimin bends to kiss Jungkook on his open mouth, licking along his stretched lips and giggling when Jungkook tries to reciprocate in vain.

"Eager," Jimin remarks to himself as he straightens, and then slips his cock between metal into Jungkook's waiting mouth.

It's indescribable. Jungkook is already feeling exposed and vulnerable enough impaled on the sybian between them—it's mindblowing to have his mouth filled as well, the quickly vibrating dildo attachment almost making it feel like he's being fucked at both ends.

"That's it," Jimin sighs, and rocks his hips back then forward and in. "Show me why we keep you, pretty thing."

Taehyung clicks the sybian up another setting. It has Jungkook jerk, and then gagging. Jimin barely eases up; Jungkook's well trained for it, after all. If anything it drives him higher.

Even if he could speak, he couldn't find words to describe the feeling, and not just because he's riding one of the greatest—and new favorite—of all the toys they've ever owned. There's just something about it all, getting to let go and drop into the part of his mind that just enjoys this.

Enjoys everything he'd be embarrassed about otherwise, like having his boyfriends treat him like a personal toy and make fun of him for it. Enjoy being stripped down to naked flesh and pure need, enjoy the loss of control that comes with having no other option but to take the vibrations so strong they hum in his teeth and his boyfriend fucking his mouth through a gag and enjoy being utterly, completely unashamed of it all.

He's in heaven.

"Oh, fuck," Jimin laughs delightedly, voice barely trembling. "I think I can feel the higher setting? On his tongue. Sh-shit."

"Yeah?" Jungkook can hear the interest in Taehyung's voice, can picture the hungry grin on his face. God, he must be a sight, sat pretty on their gift to him and the Adonis that is Park Jimin keeping Jungkook choked down on his cock by a hand gripped on his collar. "Fuck, he looks so good, you both look so good. You enjoying the ride, slut?"

It's emphasized with a smack to Jungkook's ass. His answering moan is quickly pushed back into his throat by Jimin's leisurely facefucking.

"I can't hear you," Taehyung complains meanly. "But if you want more, I have an idea..."

Jungkook expects the sybian to be dialed up to another notch. And subsequently doesn't expect to survive it. He already feels at the peak of stimulation, mind quickly slipping away with everything they're giving him at both ends. He can't imagine much more.

He is, of course, wrong. He may have expected an increase in settings, but what he gets is Taehyung's fist curling large and warm and firm around his cock to jerk him once, twice, and then press it down onto the attachment's vibrating base.

Jungkook almost screams. Twists with new pleasure, enough Jimin actually takes a step back, barely hears Taehyung chuckle "Check this out, Jimin," and Jimin's responding laugh. Taehyung's holding his dick down onto the base, and the silicon is vibrating at a high enough setting that its edges are a blur.

"Fuck, that's hot," Jimin swears, hand finding his own dick to jerk himself off in front of Jungkook's face. Like he's just part of their show, as Jungkook twists forward and bounces on sybian and spit and precum hang in strings from the gag. His hands twist behind his back mindlessly, caught in the rope, and he squeezes the ball in his hand like a lifeline until he's sure his knuckles turn white.

"He might come like that," Jimin marvels, breathy as he nears his own orgasm. He must have been more worked up than he let on, first by Taehyung’s attentions and now Jungkook’s treat. "Are you close, lovely?"

Jungkook does his best to nod, choking around the gag. The first tears dot hotly at his eyelashes. If all his senses weren't narrowed down and overcome by the intensity of the machine, he might whine at the cruelty of the question. As if they can't tell when he's close, with how long and often they've played with each other at this point.

"Honestly, babe, I wouldn't if I were you," Taehyung muses with a kiss to Jungkook’s cheek. The devil on his shoulder. "Because we're not turning the machine off."

Jungkook's whole body shudders to realize what that means. What's so good right now can become torture in a second, beyond anything he can currently imagine. His traitorous mind just finds the thought exciting, and kicks his arousal up another notch, until the heat curling in his stomach is undeniable.

"Don't listen to him, baby," Jimin seduces above him, voice low and throaty with his own pleasure. "You know you wanna come for us, don't you deserve it?"

Jungkook moans helplessly, caught between them. Taehyung doesn't abate the treatment, and Jungkook can't bring himself to stop bouncing on his knees and rocking his hips even as it draws him tantalizingly closer to climax.

His body decides for him. Jungkook nods frantically, dumb with it, and the way his boyfriends coo at him like their pet's performed a trick just sends him closer to the edge.

"Better be sure," Taehyung clicks his tongue, and pinches at Jungkook's side. "You're not coming off this thing until you're milked dry. No matter how loud you howl, dog."

"Turn it up, Tae," Jimin purrs to see Jungkook’s reaction to the threat. “He’s right there. Higher.”

Taehyung obeys, and as the remote clicks, Jungkook loses himself.

He comes hard enough to white out his vision. It seems to last minutes, because a machine never tires or changes pace with consideration to its partner. Jungkook's mind blanks, and he comes to with a heaving chest, rolled back eyes, and too-much-pleasure-too-fast. And it doesn't end. Taehyung rolls the head of his dick in his palm, and the buzz of the vibrations that had felt so good on the underside of his cock seconds ago now feel notched up enough to chatter in his teeth.

It's indescribable, is the point. Jungkook twitches on the machine, stomach muscles convulsing, with nowhere to move away from it. He's limp when Jimin grabs a fistful of his hair, barely registers the gag being unbuckled and pried out of his mouth and tossed aside. He stutters against it, working his sore lips open and closed, but not for long: Jimin hooks his thumbs in Jungkook's jaw and pries his mouth open to fuck his face again.

He comes down Jungkook's throat, and Taehyung kisses Jungkook’s neck when he swallows. Jimin keeps a hand on Jungkook's collar when he pulls out, and Jungkook isn't sure that he'd be able to stay upright without it. At some point, the tears have started to make their way down his cheeks.

"How does it feel," Jimin croons. The machine clicks up yet another notch, and Jungkook— doesn't think. His jaw just hangs open, no energy left to close it or work his hips down. Nothing left but feeling the sting of overstimulation and his mind float above his body. "Speak up, pretty bitch."

"P-Plea-se," It's drawn out, his voice hiccuping over the vibrations. "It's s-so much, it's so much!"

"It's what you wanted," Taehyung counters calmly. He taps a hand to Jungkook's fist, where the ball's curled in his fingers. "Is it still what you want?"

Fresh tears pour out of Jungkook's eyes. His teeth chatter with the rock of the machine. He's asking if Jungkook needs to drop the ball, to call safety, to stop.

That's the last thing he wants.

"Y-Yes," leaves him to answer the question, high and choked in his throat. "Yes, I want it!"

The end of the cry slips into a gurgling whine, as a new sensation pulses through Jungkook— and intensifies when he realizes the cause of it.

Taehyung's pulled his hand away, only for Jimin to step on Jungkook's dick, pressing it back down against the vibrating attachment base. Jungkook leans forward, an attempt to curl in on and protect himself. Of course he's too exposed for that with how he's sat up on the machine, entirely at their mercy, and just ends up with his forehead pressed against Jimin's knee. Jimin croons at the sight, running a hand through Jungkook's hair, and just taps the heel of his boot down harder.

"Don't complain," Jimin says, fondness rich in his voice. "Look at you, getting all this pleasure. Aren't we so generous?"

"Y-Yes, god, thank—thank you—" Jungkook tries. And the second orgasm shudders through his body. Jimin lifts his foot back off, but it's hardly a reprieve, when Taehyung takes advantage of the motion to slap Jungkook's cock back down onto the vibrating base.

"Cuuute," Taehyung practically giggles, his voice so deep for all its giddiness. He doesn't let up. With a well practiced fist he practically polishes the head of Jungkook's dick, until Jungkook is choking on a plea he can't quite form—for more? for less? and smears cum onto Jungkook's twitching stomach.

"Pl-ease, it's so—" Jungkook hiccups, but his body betrays him. He couldn't possibly muster the willpower to stop himself from grinding down onto the sybian even when the stimulation begins to hurt.

"I said, don't complain," Jimin snaps. He makes up for the meanness in his voice with the contrast of a soft kiss, leaning down and squishing Jungkook's cheeks between his hands and licking into his open mouth. It's all Jungkook can do to mouth back pathetically, dazed and mindless with the approach of a third orgasm. Coming faster each one, now, when the machine keeps him on the edge of overstimulation and neither of his boyfriends let up.

"We promised we'd keep you on it," Taehyung reminds. Jungkook can hear the smile in his voice. "Would you rather get fixed like other dogs?"

Jungkook cries a protest into Jimin's mouth, curved now into a smile. "That's right," Jimin sings, kissing Jungkook's nose. "Fixed with a pretty cage locked on your dick like other bad dogs. Then you could never feel this good."

"So be grateful," Taehyung follows it up with another squeeze of his dick, another kiss at his neck—and Jimin’s touch to Jungkook’s shoulders almost feel like a comfort, until he pushes down, pressing Jungkook more firmly to the sybian. "You're going to come again, and again, as many times as we like, and we're going to watch you cry for it. Doesn’t that sound fun?"

“Yes,” Jungkook sobs. Jimin kisses away a tear.

And cry he does. 

It becomes a relief, at some point, an outlet for the endless pleasure and pain then pleasure again. A cycle that rips from him as easily as it takes him higher. It's interspersed, at least, with two sets of hands giving him all the treatment he could ever crave. He's kissed, slapped, held, pinched. Words whispered hot into his ear could be either adorations or abuses. He loves both, and gets so lost he can barely tell the two apart. A hissed you're ours, a loving dumb animal.

Jungkook cries, and shakes, and loses himself on the machine, until he can't feel his legs, and still cries for more when the toy is finally switched off, as though he hadn't just come dry and painful and begging for it to end.

When he sags forward, there's arms ready to catch him. Whoever it is pulls Jungkook's head into their chest, runs a loving hand through his hair with undisguised delight.

"How does that feel?" The mumble is private enough, fond enough, Jungkook might confuse it if he weren't so perfectly attuned to their two voices, and the differences between them. Taehyung's is deep, and his chest thrums against Jungkook's face with his chuckle. "I wonder..."

If he's sensitive. And his suspicion is correct, because just a ghost of Taehyung's hand has Jungkook jerking in his arms.

"Never mind that," Jimin promises with a kiss to the nape of Jungkook's neck. "It just means we can have our fun and ignore his dick for a while. Doesn't it, pretty baby?"

The end of it tilts up, from the private snicker it had been in Taehyung's ear to a condescending croon for Jungkook. Jungkook nods dumbly, buzzed out of his own mind and craving to please.

They're still gentle for it. Both of them help lift Jungkook, who shivers at the touch and can't mask a moan at the feeling of being handled. He’s arranged onto his knees, and bent over a lap—Jimin’s, he acknowledges faintly, who’s sat cross legged and neat and traces a hand down Jungkook’s spine—so far over Jimin's legs that his cheek’s pressed against the carpet. Then Jungkook whimpers to feel his legs spread, to feel fingers cold and wet with fresh lube circle his hole and slip in easily.

A whistle. “You’re so loose, baby,” that’s Taehyung’s voice, sitting behind him. “Can you even feel this?”

“Be nice, Tae,” Jimin scolds, even as he gives Jungkook’s ass a sharp slap. Jungkook jerks on his lap. A boneless, fucked-out thing, and still—he feels bliss like this, messy and used and small and never wanting it to end. Wanting them to keep manhandling him, and setting him how they like, and toying with him until he can’t think beyond enjoy the attention. “You know he’ll remember and get even when it’s our turns.”

What a concept. Jungkook stills from his unconscious squirming in Jimin’s lap, but he can’t follow the thought for long. Because—

“Oh— please—” drags out of Jungkook’s mouth as he hears and feels Taehyung spit in him, then slip another finger in easy as anything for a rapid rhythm. They all know each others’ bodies too well, all the angles and pressures and just what to do, because the finger fucking becomes almost unbearably good in seconds.

“Please, what?” Taehyung hums, as casual as anything. “Jiminie got to play with you, now it's my turn. Gonna see how good you feel, all sensitive like this.”

“Fuck—” Jungkook moans out, struggling to focus. His mind’s only just coming back from how completely it’d whited out on the sybian, and his legs are still tingling, but he begs, “I can’t, I can’t come anymore—”

“Not with that attitude,” Taehyung mutters. Still, though, he pulls his hand back. Instantly, embarrassingly, Jungkook shudders at the loss of the stimulus, and thinks—yeah, Taehyung is right. A few more minutes and he could have come again, just from Taehyung’s fingers, if he’d been motivated to make him.

There’s no mocking in Taehyung’s voice when he thumbs across Jungkook’s wrist, the one where he’s still got the ball clenched firmly in his fingers, so tightly he’s stopped being conscious of the effort. Jimin’s hand is comforting, too, a steady pressure on his back.

“Are you done, Jungkook?” Taehyung asks. “It’s okay if you are.”

“That thing looked vicious,” Jimin adds.

Jungkook shivers. “It is,” he promises, and thinks. Decides, “No, I—I wanna keep going. Feel so good, I don’t wanna stop. Please.”

Taehyung hums reassuringly, and his hands return to Jungkook’s body to knead comfortingly at his thighs.

“Well, then,” Taehyung says, and Jimin’s soft giggle is heard. “Let’s see just how serious you are about—what was it you said? I can’t come anymore?”

It's mocking. The best kind, just how he likes it.

Jungkook smiles.

Chapter Text

Taehyung is used to kneeling before Jimin. It's one of his favorite things to do, actually, even just in comfort. Sometimes he just wants it, needs it even, to rest his head in Jimin's lap and have his hair played with and stop thinking for a bit.

That's essentially where they are now, but it's far from comforting. His head is still in Jimin's lap, his hair is still being pet, but right now, Taehyung feels so much heat under his skin he could melt. Because as much as Taehyung loves him, Jimin is evil. Was feeling wicked, and decided to tease Taehyung with these stupidly dainty sheer-lace socks.

It's kind of unfair, actually, to take advantage of how well he knows Taehyung. At least, Taehyung assures himself, he has the same kind of dirt on Jimin, and makes a note to himself to get back at Jimin tomorrow with an equally evil tease. Maybe wearing the heels Jimin always goes wild for, or nothing at all.

Right now, though. Taehyung's thoughts are quickly slipping away as Jimin cradles his head on his lap, scratching light fingers along his scalp. Taehyung's almost panting, humiliation flushing hot up his neck, after earning the privilege of fucking Jimin's feet with those damned lace socks.

"You look so pretty," Jimin tells him delightedly. His hand twists idly in Taehyung's curls. "So pretty, and so needy that you'll do something this embarrassing. You're really enjoying yourself, mm?"

"Yes," Taehyung's voice wavers. "Thank you, thank you so much, Jimin," he gushes the praise. His cock drags heavy and hot between Jimin's soles, the lace prickling perfectly against his skin with each slow grind forward. "You're so good to me, so good and perfect, I really love it."

Jimin smiles, and squeezes his soles together tighter. Taehyung nearly drools at the prssure. "You even know just what I like to hear," he says. "What if I tell you to stop?"

Taehyung thinks he would cry. He shivers under Jimin's gaze.

"Then I would," he chokes out on an exhale. "Anything you like."

"Aw," Jimin coos, nails digging at the base of Taehyung's scalp. "That's so sweet of you, baby. Are you getting close?"

"Yes," Taehyung whispers. Licks his tongue against dry lips, desperation turning his voice into a babble, "Are you—Are you going to make me stop, Minnie?"

"Oh, I'm not sure yet," Jimin muses, feet going a little lax again. Taehyung whines at the loss of pressure, putting twice the work back on him to fuck his hips up embarrassingly. Not much else registers by now, not the burn of the carpet on his knees, not the sweat starting to form on his brow from the exertion. Nothing else matters except Jimin's voice and hands in his hair and so, so generous allowance of letting Taehyung make a mess against him like this.

"After all," Jimin continues, "These are so nice. Maybe we should keep them for a while." Taehyung whimpers. "You don't want that? Hm. Do you want to know a little secret, my Taehyungie?"

Taehyung shudders. His jaw slackens, enough that it comes out as a gasp, "What?"

"That I'm not quite sure what I'll choose yet. But even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you," Jimin whispers conspiratorially. He boops one finger to Taehyung's nose in affection. "I would never dash your hopes like that, baby. You're so excited, of course I'm going to keep you optimistic until the last minute. That'd make it even better if I told you to stop, don't you think?"

Taehyung's expression and stutter of his hips is all the answer Jimin needs. "Please," he groans, all that's safe to say.

Jimin hears the plea in it. "Well, on my end at least," he clarifies. "So I want you to get yourself right on the edge, when you can't take a single minute more, and then you look me in the eyes and beg. And maybe I'll have already decided, between now and then, but you won't know yet that it's hopeless."

Taehyung could cry at Jimin's grin, at the faux sweetness in his voice. Yeah, he's so getting him back tomorrow. "Yes, Jimin..."

"I'm so glad you agree," Jimin purrs, thumbing along Taehyung's lip where he's started to drool. "I think that's just so hot, baby. You're going to beg to make a mess on me, so close you can't hold it a second longer, full of fear for what I'll choose. And then—" Jimin leans down, patting Taehyung's cheek with a whisper, "I can watch you either crash in relief and come as hard as you deserve, or get to laugh at the hope ripped away from your pretty eyes."

"Oh—f-fuck—" Taehyung groans. Jimin squeezes his soles together tighter, again, even more than before.

"You know why, baby?" Jimin finishes, satisfied. "Because you're mine. And you'll take whatever I give you."

"Yes, yes I will—Fuck—" Taehyung gasps, and feels heat swirl in his stomach, and realizes he's close. He looks up at Jimin with wild eyes, desperation every inch a part of him. Jimin sees the question in them, and grins, thumbing along Taehyung's brow.

"Beg."

Chapter Text

The website is about three years old now, give or take. It had started small, just as their early scenes had been—short, informative videos, demonstrating simple things like ropework or spankings and no longer than ten minutes.

Its existence had been Taehyung's idea, and its growth had been his idea, too. As both their relationship and reputation grew, and advertising their site at events brought more traffic, into what it is today.

The set-up isn't too complicated. Like the club there's different tiers of membership; there's even parts that are completely free to draw in the not yet certain. A blog area, where both of them will write reflections and updates and future plans. The instructional videos, a couple of solo teases and JOIs from either of them. A gallery of pictures.

The second leg up is the middle tier videos for one-time purchases. These are usually no longer than thirty minutes, are less intense and self-contained scenes. Some cameos, and earlier this year a compilation edited together of some of their best public demonstrations at cons and the club. This is the most popular category, because it satisfies the casual fans and the average stray browser stumbling across their content.

The ultimate category for the ultimate fans, though, is the premium membership. It gives the user access to all content, and more: exclusive content like longer, harder videos showing scenes in their entireties. Access to a forum, where Jimin and Taehyung will run surveys, browse suggested ideas for future content, take heavily paid requests.

But the best perk of the premium membership, in Jimin's opinion, is access to their livestreams.

It's not the only place for them to go live. There's a space on the home page of the site to stream a public video if they choose to, after all—usually a long period of bondage, or kennel time, while Jimin is working—and sometimes they'll have smaller streams available for one-time purchasable access.

But the premium streams are the most interactive, the most intense. It's not as grand as doing a live demonstration, since the audience is digital, but Jimin gets to flex his showmanship nonetheless. From the privacy of their home, to boot, showing off the basement he and Taehyung had designed and renovated together into a playroom. It's in these shows, locked behind the highest tier of membership, that they show the most uncut, unedited glimpses of their relationship others can see.

Most recently this year, they've been experimenting with hypnosis. With conditioning. They're not entirely sure just how much of it is fantasy, but Taehyung claims it works, that he drops into such a uniquely deep headspace he claims it's one of his favorite times each week.

It started simple, the exploration into hypnosis, and a year later it's come to Jimin learning audio equipment to mix Taehyung their own audios. His voice, recorded low and diminishing, looping over subliminal recordings of Taehyung's own moans and mantras agreeing.

Real or not, Taehyung adores it, and after a particularly gushing blog post about the experiences, they'd gotten enough requests to make a video. Or two. Then, to take it live.

The first time is more sensory deprivation than the hypnosis, but it gets the point across. Jimin sets the tripod up in front of the playroom kennel and himself sitting cross legged atop it, reading comments in a sort of FAQ off his phone while playing with controls.

Specifically: the sound set, the remote to the vibrating plug, and another to the electrodes stuck onto choice parts of Taehyung's anatomy. The setup hadn't been streamed, but Jimin had explained it at the beginning, to the hundreds—then steadily upticking into the thousand—viewers who'd gotten an email to make time the week before, and a notif when the live began.

That Taehyung, as clearly seen, had stretched well before being mummified with bondage tape, placed on his back with legs in a frogtie. Rope extends to the sides of the kennel, looped under his knees, to keep him from trying to roll.

His arms aren't a problem, because the tape had been wrapped around while they were at his sides, only his hands out. Aside from them, the only skin that's visible is his groin.

"I even took his cage off today," Jimin smiles benevolently at the camera at this part. "Ah, he's still not getting touched, not today. But we can watch his dick twitch, and that's almost more fun, isn't it?"

After that, Jimin explains—because several comments ask if Taehyung can hear—the sensory deprivation. Jimin had given Taehyung a kiss before buckling on the hood. He pouts, talking about it— "I like to see his face," he sighs, as though it's troublesome. "But he likes being a thing, and the darkness of the hood helps with the trancing, so we make it work."

Jimin pauses, then, reading one particularly interesting comment suggesting vision blocking contact lenses. "That's a very interesting idea," he grins up at the camera after reading it. The vision that comes to him of Taehyung's pretty face and expressions still open for him to watch and play with, but the sightlessness retained. "Tell you what, I'll talk to Tae about it tomorrow and see about adding it to our wishlist, how's that?"

A tip chimes in. Jimin snorts. "Babe, we haven't even started yet..."

Before the hood, though, Jimin says, the noise canceling headphones had gone on underneath them. The only part of the hood left unzipped is the mouth, to reveal where Jimin had fitted a ring gag to hear Taehyung's breathing. Both for the endearing quality of it, exaggerated louder and hitching and wet being forced open, and because he's farther away from Taehyung on top of the kennel than he feels comfortable zipping the mouth hole of the hood shut.

"So, no, he can't hear us," Jimin says. "I have one of the tracks I made for him looping, that he picked specially for today. However, I do have a mic and can speak into it. Shall we check on him?"

With a flourish, Jimin lifts and shows off the sound set with something like jazz hands. He fiddles with the controls, then. "Let's hear what he's chosen for today, first."

The sound switches to stereo, broadcasting from Jimin's phone bluetooth—and god, does he have memories of the two of them when they began, and all the technical difficulties they encountered. Of course Taehyung had been the one to have a better touch with it, which didn't help, being the one who was going to be restrained with it. Jimin had been laughed at more than a few times, forgetting to turn things off or on or accidentally connecting to the home sound system upstairs.

After much practice, and enduring good-natured but agonizing taunts, Jimin has mastered the system. So now the loop crackles out of his phone speaker (though, he knows, the subliminals in it won't be picked up without headphones, a shame considering Taehyung's lovely voice in them) for the camera. "Empty," the loop begins, smooth and seductive and echoing. "Obedient. Darling. Drop."

The track then proceeds to count down from ten to one, telling Taehyung that each time he hits one he'll go even deeper, and then deeper again the next count, and continue. A never-ending loop, and satisfied, Jimin switches the stereo off, consigning the audio back into Taehyung's headphones alone.

"You can't really hear it outside of headphones," Jimin tells the camera, "But there's actually subliminals in it, the biggest ones being Taehyung's own voice repeating the words to himself. I recorded it during a session of him listening to the original track. He says it's already impossible to focus on anything else, being hooded and still, but that himself in the audio is a double mindfuck. Hearing his voice, like it's his own thoughts. And if it makes Tae happy, then who am I to deny him?"

A wicked grin at that, and several laughter emojis fill the comments. Anyone who's paid up for the premium membership knows the two of them have been playing with long-term denial for nearly three years now. Another few tips pour in.

"Make it publicly available? Hm," Jimin considers, reading off a comment asking for their tracks to be posted for fans to listen to. "That's a thought. I'll consider it. A lot are tailored very specifically for Tae, for obvious reasons, but maybe generic ones like this? Even available for one-time purchase for visitors? Hm. Yeah, I'll think about it," Jimin hums again. "Gosh, you are all so full of ideas today. Watching my pet really gets the creativity flowing, I guess. Mine, too, which is how I come up with such lovely tests for him. Oh, that's right—let's check in on him, yeah?"

Jimin takes a moment to clear his throat, and test his voice aloud, before pausing the audio and hitting the speaker button on the sound set. His voice delivered right into Taehyung's headphones, deep in his bondage and dazed from the loops and unable to escape it.

"Darling," Jimin says, voice low and sweet as the recording. "My empty, obedient, darling, drop."

The reaction is adorable, really. Taehyung jerks his hips, a low moan slipping out open mouthed and stretched around the ring gag. Jimin sees his tongue work as he swallows back spit, and fights an endeared smile.

"So deep now, aren't you, baby?" Jimin continues, keeping his voice silken. Taehyung nods his hooded head, the faceless, empty thing he loves to become. "My darling, drop," and Taehyung shudders again, dick half hard and shifting where it lays against his wrapped stomach.

"Good. So good, so empty, so obedient," and Jimin always marvels, at this, how Taehyung takes these scenes and works himself down deep enough to make it so real. Jimin has to fight the glow in his chest that threatens to summon a fond giggle, or pride that he can do this for Taehyung. "Empty, listening so well to me. Obedient, taking whatever comes, whatever I want to give to you, so well. Darling, who am I?"

"M-Mas-ter," Taehyung keens, the sound of it stretched around the ring gag, consonants choked and practically nonexistent. Jimin only recognizes it for its obviousness, and judging by the tips that clamor in, it was more than legible to the audience as well. Another sound, like a cry, before he cuts himself off, unable to speak anything else without prompting.

"That's right, doll. Empty, obedient, doll. Everything I give you now will just make you drop even more and harder and better, darling. My doll to play with, and you'll just take it, and hit ten nine eight seven six five-four-three two one and drop—" Taehyung's hips jerk again, cock rising with his hard on. He must be aching, if he's even still aware of it. "Take everything now and know it's for Master, and go deeper, knowing you're empty and obedient, my darling, drop."

Jimin clicks off the mic, and presses play on the audio again, hopefully looping back seamlessly into the mantra. He picks up the phone and buzzes through the comments, and offers a thanks for the tips that had been practically pouring in.

"Now, my darling audience—" Jimin winks at the camera, "Where was I? Right, his setup. Well, one of the questions asked for today was how often we do this. As you know, it's kind of a new thing, but Tae really likes it, so we're at once a week now, usually around an hour but sometimes longer. And his favorite is to get a little fancy with it, which is why—" Jimin grins, and holds up the other two remotes. "I also placed electrode pads all over his body, and he's got a vibrating plug in. Neither are on yet, and he must be so needy for anything by now, so let's remind him they exist!"

Jimin decides to start with the vibrator, a small current of pleasure to sink into the flow of the audio before the electrodes.

He holds up the control to the camera for viewers to see as he just barely turns up the first current, a ghost of stimulation, but touch-starved and immobilized and deep in trance, Taehyung whimpers low in his throat and arches. Jimin is glad, in hindsight, for deciding to loop rope under his knees and knot them taut to the sides of the kennel; it had felt like overkill, but now Taehyung can't attempt to close his legs. Something he's too well trained to ever do normally, but right now is anything but normal.

Jimin toys with the vibrations, running them higher and lower and commenting mockingly on Taehyung's reactions to the audience. It's fascinating to watch, and torturous to imagine, how deep he must be and only getting the buzzing, even with his cock cage off for once.

"I mean, I don't really personally get it," Jimin confesses to the audience, and laughs at some of the doubtful comments on the stream. "I mean that I've tried listening to one or two, they don't do much for me... but we've done our research, and what really does it is that he wants to be in trance, and restrained with it to feel helpless like this. If you haven't read his most recent blog post yet, I'd recommend it. He's such a good boy," Jimin's voice twists up with his smile, unable to hold it back this time.

He has his own view, looking down into the kennel, and the preview screen of the camera's angle behind the tripod, and in both, he's unbelievably fond. Taehyung is obviously clenching, the plug moving up and down on the fluctuations of the vibrations, and all the while he's making soft noises of pleasure that sound suspiciously like half-formed slurs of 'empty' and 'obedient.'

"Let's talk about the electrodes, now," Jimin decides, setting the vibrating plug to a cycling pattern that buzzes on and off every other second. This box is larger, with a red dial and a dozen thin black wires snaking out of it down through the kennel bars. "I took some suggestions off the forum, as well as my own favorite spots. You probably can't see where most of the wires are going to under the tape, but I'll tell you..."

One pad on each nipple, two on each asscheek. One smacked to the soft of his skin right above his dick, its wire tucked up safely away under the tape, Taehyung denied even the accidental stimulation of a wire brushing him. One on each thigh, and two on his soft stomach, that Jimin had almost mourned, because he loves watching Taehyung's tummy twitch with them.

"Should I start lightly and work up, like the vibrator, or should I... actually, no, just by saying that I already decided," Jimin grins at the camera. "Let's just turn it right up and give him a nice shock!"

Again Jimin holds the controller up to the camera, and counts cutely down three, two, one, before he twists the dial up viciously.

In the kennel below Taehyung jolts, hips arcing up and a misshapen yelp of surprise and pain twisting out around the gag. Jimin giggles, and ticks the dial up higher, and the incoming pour of tips crashes over Taehyung's continuing frantic groans. He's shaking visibly for the camera, squirming as best he can in the bondage with no escape despite his struggling. Jimin clicks up the intensity of the vibrator to compensate, and is just as amused as the audience over the way Taehyung's cries are a twist between shouts and moans. 

Jimin continues to play with him like that, cycling from pleasure through pain through both through neither, all the while answering questions from the audience. About what’s new in their dynamic, about upcoming content, about anything, really.

Then he checks in on Taehyung, after a bit: turns off both devices, watching Taehyung tremble for a moment before clicking the audio off, too. Into the microphone: "Darling."

A soft whimper.

Jimin tells him to nod if he hears and understands him; Taehyung does. Asks if he's enjoying himself, gets another nod. Again, when Jimin asks if he'd like to stay in a bit longer. Show me you remember how to stop: Taehyung snaps his fingers.

"Good boy," Jimin says. "Back down now, doll, nice and deep and empty," and clicks the audio back on, and turns the vibrations and electrodes both back up, and blows a kiss to the camera.

Another time is more relaxed. It's the kind of these trancing sessions that they usually do alone; casual, unhurried. Since it's not going to be very intense they decide to put it on the main page, where it'll play as a live feed for anyone clicking the site open for five minutes before going behind a paywall on their IP address.

Jimin still isn't entirely on the fence about whether these scenes could do any actual conditioning, since they're all already things Taehyung likes. He knows, certainly, that Taehyung trances, and deeply at that. But hypnosis is as much effort on the part of the subject as it is the wielder. Taehyung is able to drop so completely because he wants to, and has worked eagerly and actively to train his mind into it.

It doesn't hurt that he's bound and in sensory deprivation for the tracks, because he's already turned on by those things and now the helplessness they invoke only helps the trance along. Taehyung has written about it as much as he's talked to Jimin about it: how it feels like being kept, being stored and trained, when he can't struggle away through the bondage or remove headphones. When all his senses are focused only on Jimin's words, so that they become his whole world and sink deep into his mind, inescapable even if he did want to escape. (Spoiler alert: he doesn't.)

And Taehyung is so good, Jimin thinks, loose and limp and beyond beautiful. Jimin falls under his spell often, in scenes like this, when he has the leisure of taking a moment back and watching. He always finds himself equal parts endeared and emotional then, pride and love swelling in him so strongly that Taehyung would tease him, able to read Jimin how strangers behind a screen can't.

Today is one of those times, because Taehyung is gorgeous to watch like this. He's on his knees, his arms bound above his head and tied to one of the playroom ceiling rings. Sometimes the simplest setups do even more for Jimin, because there's no words for how arousing Taehyung hangs in them, his head—hooded, again, headphones and dildo gag secured underneath—slumped to his chest. He sways, mindlessly, on his own, like subconsciously rocking himself, and his knees are kept apart by a spreader bar cuffed on.

An easy setup to achieve, especially since Taehyung has expressed so much excitement for these sessions, once a week. (Has wanted more, actually, but Jimin is so far hesitant, loving both Taehyung's face and mind, and Taehyung understands Jimin's limits as much as Jimin cares for his in the reverse.)

With the camera on them for some quick paywall profits, snagged out of frustration of people intrigued by the scene, Jimin sits cross legged beside Taehyung and opts to get some work done. He takes breaks from tapping at his laptop to toy with Taehyung, of course, in the simple ways he likes. Touching him, mostly, because he can. Idly reaching out to play with Taehyung, to run a hand down his side, or squeeze at his thigh, or cruelly weigh the steel of his caged cock in his hand.

Taehyung isn't super responsive, with touches so light and his head so fuzzy, but the sleepy squirms and sighs are as arousing as they are endearing. His breathing is especially magnified, with his mouth stuffed full of the dildo gag and only having the nose slits of the hood to breathe in and out of. As a result his breaths are louder, picked up by the camera.

This is intentional. The induction at the beginning of the file called for participatory breath control. Jimin had played a part of it out loud, for the stream, and is planning to release it for a decently low price. It's a favorite of Taehyung's, working down into trance with the obedience of following orders when to breathe, and the mindfuck that something so intimate and basic was being controlled. That he was surrendering the control willingly.

Breathe in, the track says, Jimin's voice, and Jimin watches the slow, obedient rise of Taehyung's chest fondly. Hold it. He does, slumped in on himself completely and kept hanging by his tied arms. Hold it. A little longer, pet, doing so well—and breathe out. Taehyung's chest drops as he exhales, the sound of it noisy out the slits of the hood. And hold again. But I don't need to tell you that, good baby was already waiting for permission to take his next breath. Empty and emptyheaded and obedient. Breathe in. Taehyung's chest rising again, the suck of breath audible. I control you, even with something this simple and essential. Hold it for a really long time now, pet, squirm for me. Empty, dizzy boy. Dropping so deep, with every breath, go deeper now as you breathe out. Taehyung sagging again with a breath out.

Jimin ghosts a comforting hand over his stomach, thumbing at the soft curve of it, before pressing a hand to his heart and marveling at the slow pace of it. He comments on it to the audience with a fond smile, how calm Taehyung is, how deeply and slowly he's breathing to the file, before turning back to his laptop.

Jimin lets him hang for another forty minutes before deciding to call it quits. Taehyung always wants longer, pouting to Jimin how incredibly relaxing it is—and hot to fantasize that he's being conditioned—but Jimin is nothing if not a sucker for safety and wants to get some blood circulating back in Taehyung's arms and lower legs.

He leaves the camera on while taking apart the setup. First turns the audio down, slowly, before clicking the button and speaking into the microphone himself.

"Doll," he says, a sweet call. "Breathe in. I'm going to count up, and with every number you'll breathe again. One, breathe out. Two, breathe in. Feeling so soft and lovely. Three, breathe out. Becoming more aware. Four, breathe in. Five, breathe out. Waking up, slowly, and happily. Six, breathe in. Seven, breathe out. Eight, breathe in. Nice and refreshed and good. Nine, breathe out. Ready to wake up, and breathe in and on your own, ten. Good boy. Wake up."

Taehyung makes a soft noise, muffled behind the hood and the dildo gag below it, picking up his head. Jimin can't help but smile at the sight, as Taehyung moves his head as though looking around, orienting himself.

"Hey, baby," Jimin says softly, and rubs at Taehyung's back. Taehyung cranes his head, tugs at his arms, like he's reaching for a hug. "I'm going to take you down now, love, just relax."

Taehyung nods slowly, and Jimin lets go of the mic, pushing himself up to free Taehyung. He works quickly, fingers practiced with the rope and getting Taehyung's arms to begin. First unhooking from above and slowly lowering them back in front of Taehyung, who makes a soft, pleased noise, rolling his shoulders. Jimin gets his wrists free a moment later, and Taehyung stretches his arms out with a happy sigh through the hood.

The hood, which is next. Jimin unzips it from the back and slips it off easily, and is never quite prepared for the softness of the sight that awaits. Taehyung is his baby, cheeks soft and hair mussed from the hood, and his eyes obediently closed for a few moments to get used to the light. Before he blinks them open, Jimin's favorite, because they're disoriented and hazy but fix onto him immediately like a lifeline. Jimin leans forward to kiss his forehead at the same time he slips off the headset.

"There you are," Jimin says sweetly, and Taehyung closes his eyes again, leaning to bump their foreheads together. "Oh, my baby, always so soft and good after your trances. You feel good now?"

Taehyung blinks lovingly, dazedly at him, and nods, a soft noise coming low in his throat. The fact he might not even register he's still gagged occurs to Jimin, and sends a thrill of arousal through him. Merciful, "One moment, darling..."

Jimin reaches behind him to unbuckle the gag, and pull it forward. Taehyung opens his mouth, and the gag slips out as messy as Jimin expected for as long as it was in, a string of spit following it out still connected to Taehyung's lips. He doesn't seem to notice, sitting still and blinking heavily, and works a jaw a moment before smacking his lips sleepily.

"There's your pretty mouth," Jimin coos, and lifts the water bottle to tip for him. Taehyung drinks, pliant, nearly half the bottle before holding up a hand. Jimin draws back. "And my pretty boy. How are you?"

Taehyung's response is to reach needy arms for him. Jimin can finally pull him in for his hug, holding Taehyung to his chest and rocking him slowly.

"Good," Taehyung mumbles into his chest. "Good. Happy. Mm, soft. Yours."

"Mine," Jimin agrees affectionately, lifting a finger to boop his nose before looking to the camera. He doesn't bother to school the sappy grin on his face. "That's all for today, guys. As you can see we cuddle for a while after these sessions, so that's gonna do it! I promise I'll take good care of him. Thank you for stopping by."

"Thank you," Taehyung echoes drowsily. "But Jiminie is mine now. My time now."

Jimin laughs into Taehyung's hair as he ends the stream.

Chapter Text

It starts innocently. At least as innocently as anything from Jimin and Taehyung could possibly be. Kind of a joke, that turns into a bet, that turns into a scene, that leads them to this.

See, Taehyung is curious about being made to... hold, he confesses, cheeks heating. Jimin takes it in stride, with a tapped finger to his chin and careful consideration. A grin, after a few minutes, and a confident promise: that he can do it. Can be strict and mean in all the ways Taehyung likes, always but including this new one. That if Taehyung lets him, he can fill this role, and break Taehyung down, and make him beg for a privilege so simple he'd always taken it for granted.

A bet, that's all it started as. That Taehyung wanted the challenge, and Jimin was ready to give it to him, and one of them would win.

And since it started so simply, Taehyung thinks, he can handle this. He might even be as defiant as he is excited, guzzling water during the casual negotiation talk of what he wants from Jimin in the scene, and winking at Jimin's raised eyebrow. Sue him, he's confident, because this is something that's new for Jimin, too, so he won't really be able to go as far as they prepare for to "win," right?

So Taehyung is confident. He drinks bottle, after bottle, and then a third, while they hang out. Every so often he gets distracted, and Jimin taps two gentle fingers to his thigh, a reminder that has Taehyung hastily picking up the bottle for another sip.

And then it starts to hit.

Almost all at once, and more and faster by the second, it seems, now that Taehyung's recognized it. It starts to press in on his senses, first as a tapping foot, then thighs pressed together, then melting under Jimin's sly, knowing glances.

Taehyung barely notices when Jimin fastens the collar around his neck and pushes him down to his hands and knees.

He's kept like that. Naked after being ordered to strip, trembling on the floor, and a bowl of water is placed before him. Taehyung looks at it, and then up at Jimin desperately, face hot with embarrassment. Jimin just gives him the flat, too-sweet smile of scenes.

"Min," Taehyung whispers, but Jimin gives him a look so stern he falls silent.

"Are you giving in?" Jimin asks kindly, tilting his head. Taehyung sucks in an inhale, and shakes his head, and bends embarrassedly to lap at the bowl like a dog. He barely starts when Jimin lifts his legs to use his back as a footrest, kicks lightly at his side if Taehyung stops drinking.

"If you want to be done drinking, then just finish the bowl," Jimin promises. Amusedly, because every time the water level starts to drop tantalizingly low, Jimin picks up the water bottle and dumps more into the bowl. Uncaring that it splashes degradingly against Taehyung's face and dashes his hopes, grinning that Taehyung is starting to shift and squirm on aching knees.

Jimin keeps the bowl refilled, no matter how desperately Taehyung tries to lap up all the water before he notices. Secretly he's almost certain Jimin is keeping an eye on the level the whole time; he just likes to wait until the water's almost gone to add more, so he can see Taehyung's hopes dashed, and his growing realization of how fucked he is.

It goes on like this until Taehyung can barely move. Until he's curled in on himself and whimpering, and begging, no more, no more.

"But you were so thirsty?" Jimin taunts, and clips a leash to the collar. Yanks it, and Taehyung follows him outside to the backyard, slow and clumsy and aching.

He sniffles, and keeps pleading softly, and hurting like he never has before. It must not be enough, because Jimin makes good on the threat Taehyung had been almost certain was a bluff. Jimin gets out the EMS unit, and pats electrode pads onto Taehyung's ass and thighs and tummy, and starts torturing him with the play of the electricity patterns. Until Taehyung can't even comprehend maintaining dignity anymore, just swaying with his ass up in the air and shimmying and feeling ready to burst.

"If you can hold it," Jimin says, "Let's say, ten more minutes, then you win. You can stand up, and walk inside, and use the restroom like a human. You win the bet."

Taehyung visualizes it so plainly in his head that a groan slips out.

"But," Jimin continues, grinning wickedly and spiking up the electric units. "If you leak out here like a dumb little dog, then clearly you need training. I win the bet, and I win you for the rest of the day. Sounds fair, right? I mean, that was your idea. You're just a little more... compromised, now, than you were earlier, hah."

So Taehyung ends up like this, commanded to stay arched on his hands and knees as much as he wants to curl up and cry. His thighs squeeze together, his cheek pressing into the ground as he wriggles and moans and whimpers. The electricity pulses through his muscles, making them tense and un-tense and jiggle for Jimin's amusement. At least he's having fun, playing with the controls and laughing and kicking at Taehyung's side and ass when his posture starts to slip.

Of course Taehyung loses. Part of him has known all the while, maybe even before suggesting the scene. Part of him wanted it all along.

So he breaks. Pleads for Jimin to let him go back inside. "You win," he gasps. That Jimin has proved his point, his power. Had broken Taehyung, like he'd promised. "You win—please let me go now!"

"Aw, sure," Jimin says fondly. "You can go."

Taehyung realizes what he means. His heart sinks. He begs more, crying harder, feeling so much pressure he's going to burst. Tortured by the electric pads pulsing through his muscles, all coercing him to let go.

"I mean—inside," Taehyung tries to sob.

"I know, sweetheart," Jimin says mockingly. "And I will let you back in. But you have to go first. We can't risk accidents inside, now can we? That's why I brought you out here like a dog."

"Please," Taehyung tries to beg again, but Jimin steps meanly on his cheek, grinding his face into the grass.

"Hurry up, Taetae," Jimin says meanly. "You already admitted you lost. You know what that makes you now."

"No, no," Taehyung cries harder, but he can't deny the arousal burning in his belly right alongside the bursting desperation. He's vulnerable, and small, and humiliated, and exposed, and all of it is turning him on like nothing else. He knows he can call safety, end all of this, but—he doesn't want to. He wants to endure this. He wants to let go. He wants to fight this. He wants to let go.

"I want you to bark for me like the pathetic mess I made of you," Jimin says. "Say, 'Please, sir, I'm a dumb puppy who can't hold it. Please, sir, let me piss myself.'"

"Nngn—No, please—" A fresh wave of tears.

"Come on," Jimin croons, talking down to Taehyung like encouraging, well, a dog. "Let go. Just let go. Give in and be mine. You can do it, pretty Taetae. For me. I win..."

Taehyung tries to hold on as long as he can. He really does. But it's all too much. With one particularly strong pulse of electricity through his muscles he feels himself twitch, and unclench, and leak. For only a second, but that's it. He's lost. Now that he's felt the beginning of relief, he can't stop.

"P-Please, sir," he breaks, and hiccups, "Let me go, let me p-piss. I'm yours, I'm a dumb puppy who c-can't hold it, please, sir, please!"

"If you were so desperate you should've just said so," Jimin teases. Taehyung hits the ground with a fist and sobs. "Go ahead, dog."

It's all—too—much. Taehyung's cheek is grinding into the grass, he's writhing trapped under Jimin's heel on his face, as his legs spread and a few more jolts go through him. His body betrays him, beyond his control and all Jimin's. Taehyung moans brokenly the whole time he goes, eyes rolling up in his head and his hips rocking. His face and body burn like they never have before. He's so embarrassed. He's so desperately aroused he doesn't care.

He's relieved.

"See, that wasn't so hard," Jimin says after. He takes his heel off Taehyung's face and leans down to pat his hair and rip off the electrodes. Taehyung moans again, bringing his hands up to cover his face, ass still up and shaking with the relief throbbing through his abdomen. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

Then the hose. Taehyung yelps when Jimin sprays him full blast with the spray nozzle, trying his best to twist away and roll and do anything he can, but he can't get away. Jimin lets him try to shiver and cry and move away from it for a bit for his own amusement, but after a bit he just pushes Taehyung onto his back and kicks his legs open to hose him directly. Taehyung almost howls at the freezing pressure, feeling every bit the helpless animal Jimin's been teasing him to be.

Jimin uses a towel to pat him dry, still on his knees and shivering, the relief of being empty pulsing softly through his body. It's gentle, attention paid to all his body and even his hair scrunched dry in the towel. Jimin rubs Taehyung's back, and pets his hair, and kisses his forehead before standing. Jimin clicks his tongue when he tugs the leash, and Taehyung follows mindlessly.

Not thinking, so out of habit he starts to clamber up to his feet when they're back inside, but as soon as he tries Jimin kicks him back down. And Taehyung remembers.

"Only humans use furniture," Jimin says, sitting himself primly back on the sofa and crossing his legs. He snaps his fingers and points at the spot on the floor beside his legs. "Desperate boys that leak like untrained dogs stay on the floor."

"Oh," Taehyung almost whimpers, cock picking up in interest. He crawls to curl up at Jimin's feet with a light shiver.

"Prove to me that you aren't," Jimin says. And uncaps another water bottle to pour into the bowl on the floor, never breaking eye contact with Taehyung. His smile is strict. "Keep drinking. That's an order. Maybe you'll have better luck next time. Training has to work eventually, right?"

Chapter Text

When Jungkook joins them, he gets a lot of time to warm up before joining their more... intense antics. Taehyung and Jimin both want to make sure he's comfortable, and never pressuring himself to join in; after all, they have almost seven years of experience playing together, and Jungkook is just approaching his first year since mentoring under them.

So it's often Jungkook himself who has to introduce himself as ready for something the next level up. Even though he’s usually already been ready. As he reminds them with a blush and a laugh, he'd been a premium member of their site for six months before meeting them. He's both well-aware and very interested in all their games.

As many times as he’s assisted in scenes for video and in private, though, this is one of his first livestreams. It shouldn't be too different, Jimin reassures him, because Jimin is still here, in charge, and monitoring the comment feed. Jungkook can focus on Taehyung, same as usual when he's in their private and filmed sessions alike.

They're already live, today, because the overwhelming feedback from people streaming live—that coveted premium membership, to watch and comment during airing instead of buying a reupload—has been that it's just as interesting watching them set up as it is watching the session actually kicking off.

Jimin introduces them with his usual showman's flair, Tae and JK, with an affectionate pat to their heads. They both wave, Jungkook a lot more shyly, even though he's got on a face mask and cap so only his eyes are showing.

"I feel a little underdressed," Jungkook confesses, in his sweats and baggy tee shirt. If only because Jimin is fixed up, black tailored pants cutting sinfully to the curve of his ass and a dressy shirt.

"What am I supposed to be, then?" Taehyung complains indignantly, gesturing down at his naked body, and all three of them laugh.

Jungkook squints at the monitor set up, can just barely catch some of the comments and see positive emojis for the exchange. Jimin is the one who responds to them, so he has the feed up on his phone when he wants to check them, but there’s still a broadcast of the site screen to see the camera’s view and the comment stream.

"I believe JK was referring to the people in the room, darling," Jimin says amusedly, with another affectionate scratch at Taehyung's scalp. "Not the thing we're making you into today."

A tip chimes, though not loudly enough to distract from Taehyung's happy shiver. Jungkook too has to give himself a strict reminder to stay focused, since he's going to be the one primarily prepping Taehyung.

As if following his thoughts, Jimin says, "So as you lovely, most-close-to-my-heart top supporters know, Tae and I have been mentoring JK here for... almost a year, now, wow. So I'm going to have him help in getting Taetae ready for today's stream. It was overwhelmingly requested that you all love to watch him struggle, so we're going to make sure he's absolutely just squirming these next two or three hours!"

Jungkook pushes himself up onto his knees to help when Jimin approaches with the straitjacket, and tries not to smile at the way Taehyung's eyes light up. Jimin shows both Jungkook and the audience its make, showing front to back and giving a recommendation for the maker they ordered it from—and then laughs when Taehyung holds out his arms expectantly.

"Not yet, slut. I swear, you love bondage too much," Jimin sighs. Taehyung pouts, dropping his arms. "We all know it takes a little predicament to get you off at this point—so JK is going to be putting on some electrodes. Hey, we promised to make you squirm."

Jungkook almost wishes his grin were visible below the mask. This he's done before, so he gets the unit out and hooks each pad plugged into the machine with confidence.

"Any place special, Jimin?" he asks, running his eyes over Taehyung's body. Taehyung looks at Jungkook hopefully, and Jungkook winks.

"As many as we have for this unit, wherever you like, my lovely apprentice," Jimin says with a grin at the camera. "The world is your oyster, here."

Jungkook considers it, and begins applying to the most obvious places. Taehyung's nipples, to start, getting another pout for the way he brushes a thumb over each one before patting the pad stuck to it. Two down each of his sides, ribs and lower, before two on each thigh.

"Oh, I like them here," Jimin tells the audience gleefully, pinching at Taehyung's thigh. "I'm glad we'll get to see his thighs today. He shakes so lovely."

Taehyung whines, and again louder when Jungkook trails fingers lightly down his stomach, on the border of ticklish. "I like them on his stomach," Jungkook says almost to himself. "His tummy's so cute."

Taehyung giggles. "Thank you. I like it too, JK."

"Speak when you're spoken to," Jimin scolds with another pinch to Taehyung's thigh, though it's without malice. Jungkook snorts at it, and smacks two of the pads on Taehyung's stomach, taking a second to flick the belly piercing.

"I wanna put some on his ass," Jungkook says, looking to Jimin before directing Taehyung to move. Jimin considers it, and smiles.

"Let's do those after we get him in the jacket," he says sweetly. Taehyung's eyes drop to it, longing look clearly visible. "I wanna watch him try to struggle around in it."

Jungkook ends up holding the jacket, looking over it intently to figure out its workings, but doesn't need too much help. After picking up the clicker for today’s scene Taehyung holds out his arms obediently, and Jungkook slips the jacket onto him, stepping behind Taehyung and dropping to a squat. He blinks, a little overwhelmed, at the straps, but Jimin is there before he can voice it.

"I'll do the first one for you. Watch close, and I'll show you something special," Jimin instructs, and goes for the middle straps. Jungkook watches intently as Jimin hooks the buckle, and in one swift, strong motion, yanks the strap through it tight—and Taehyung sighs, shoulders dropping. "You see how he relaxes into bondage? That's the mark of a really well-trained slut, JK."

"God, that's hot," Jungkook whispers, over the tip sound that rings out. "You like being tied up, Tae?"

"Please," Taehyung says, voice a little smaller. Jimin smiles at it, and nods at Jungkook, who takes the rest of the straps up and down the back, from neck collar to just above his ass. Past that he's a little lost again, but Jimin jerks the jacket up by its collar, and Taehyung clambers up to his knees.

"These straps go in between the legs," Jimin says, gesturing. "I'm going to let you do it, because I'm sure everyone has noticed how pliant Tae gets for JK. He really likes him, it’s adorable," Jimin coos the latter half to the camera, and Jungkook blushes at it, ducking his head behind Taehyung's back as he tugs the straps through Taehyung's legs and fastens them in back.

The front, then, which is momentarily confusing to look at, but Jimin continues to narrate to the camera, and Jungkook follows the instructions. He guides Taehyung's arms through the front loop and fastens the straps behind him into what Jimin croons is, "A nice hug. Go ahead and ratchet it up, baby, don't be shy. There he is."

The final result has Jungkook staring, almost hypnotized. Taehyung is tugging experimentally at his arms, and can't move an inch. Rather than any kind of frustration, he sighs happily again, sagging on his knees.

"What was it you wanted to do again, JK?" Jimin asks, and seizes the back collar of the straitjacket. He pushes Taehyung forward, bending him over until his forehead is nearly to the floor. "Right, we've got to take care of this."

Jungkook's heart races attaching more electrodes to the curve of Taehyung's ass, and then lubing up one of today's toys. It's an inflatable plug, a decent size even before the gauge has been touched, and Taehyung groans as it catches and slips in. Jungkook pats his ass comfortingly before Jimin tugs Taehyung back up onto his knees.

"Are we leaving the cage on?" Jungkook asks. Jimin considers it, the two of them glancing down between Taehyung's legs to the steel of his cage. Taehyung's eyes are closed, presumably not to give away too much hope.

"What do you guys think?" Jimin asks to the camera, picking his phone back up to check the feed. "Personally, I love to see him locked, but I suppose it can be just as amusing seeing him writhe around untouched..." Jungkook glances to the monitor, and makes out about half/half support. "Taetae, would you like your cage off?"

Jungkook watches Taehyung blink open his eyes, and lick dryly at his lips. The taught answer, "If it pleases you, sir."

"Maybe I can think of a compromise," Jimin drawls, and stands. He crosses the room and takes a few seconds digging through the door Jungkook had grabbed the unit and electrodes from, and turns back with a grin.

Coming back, Jungkook sees two black loops in his hands. Taehyung must recognize them, because he tips his head back with parted lips, something between a smile and a groan coming out.

"Give me juuust a moment," Jimin says, pulling off his necklace with the key. He's swift unlocking and taking off the cage, sitting at Taehyung's side so the camera is in full view of it, and lifts the steel shaft up to Taehyung's mouth when that part is off. "Hold this until we gag you a little more thoroughly."

Taehyung opens and closes his mouth around the shaft obediently. Jimin leaves the ring of the cage on, but picks up the two loops he’d grabbed, and Jungkook puts two and two together.

"Oh," he breathes, as Jimin slips them onto Taehyung's cock. One fitted down against the base, and one kept close to the head, and closing both loops tightly with the rigging at their bottom. Because then Jimin gestures for the electrostim unit, and unplugs two unused pads, re-hooking their wires instead to the loops.

"If you get close from this, you warn us," Jimin tells Taehyung strictly, eyes stern and finger pointed at him. Taehyung nods eagerly, eyes wide. "You don't even want to know what hell I'll bring down on you if you so much as edge without permission."

A few tips ring out at that, and Taehyung manages a slurred Yes, sir, around the steel shaft of the cage. Jimin boops Taehyung's nose with his pointed finger. "Good toy. Don't worry, we'll make sure it's not easy for you."

This entails the next part of the bondage Jungkook will be putting on. He grabs for the spreader bar. Jimin is usually a bit rougher than Jungkook is, smacking the skin to signal how he wants Taehyung to move, but with just a shy nudge from Jungkook, Taehyung leans up on his knees and spreads his legs apart obediently. Jungkook buckles the cuffs onto Taehyung's thighs, the bar hanging between them now preventing Taehyung from closing his legs again. To boot, he loops rope around each of Taehyung's thighs and shins to tie them together, so that he's stuck with his legs apart and unable to flex them out from a frogtie.

"Good work," Jimin tells him as he inspects the knots and their fits. Jungkook glows at the praise. Then, casually as anything, Jimin lifts a hand and pushes Taehyung over.

Taehyung goes with a yelp, unable to balance himself. The straitjacket keeps his arms laced tightly around his front, the spreader bar has his legs apart, the rope has his thighs latched to each shin—admirably, he manages to keep the cage shaft in his mouth. Taehyung ends up on his side, legs still kept wide apart by the spreader bar, so one is up in the air, and makes an indignant noise.

"No complaining," Jimin says sternly, but he's smiling. "Before we continue, would you like to explain our safeties for today, JK?"

Jungkook jumps, but glances at the camera with an affirming nod. It's what Jimin is mentoring him for, after all, to be a good handler, and part of that has been Jimin wanting him to increase his confidence and assertiveness.

"Today, Tae is holding a clicker. Like, one you'd use to train dogs," he specifies, flushing a little and grateful for the mask and cap. He almost says please, but reconsiders, "Tae, pl—show the members what you will do if anything is too much today." The front of the jacket shifts imperceptibly, and a loud click comes from Taehyung's hands. Jungkook nods. "And if you drop it inside the jacket?" Taehyung grins his teeth around the cage shaft, and makes three distinct vocalizations.

"Excellent," Jimin says with a fun little clap. "Maybe the dog deserves a treat. Why don't you turn on our stim unit, JK?"

Taehyung flexes in anticipation, the buckles of the jacket and metal of the spreader bar hooks jingling with it. Jungkook gives him a reassuring pet through his hair before switching on the unit, and turning the dial up. Slowly, at first, watching Taehyung for a reaction. And then he sees it, Taehyung's thighs clenching, and a soft whimper coming from Taehyung's mouth, alongside the drool that's beginning to slip out past the cage shaft. Jungkook turns it higher, and Taehyung kicks his feet uselessly in the restraints. It reminds Jungkook that there's two loops of electric stimulation on his cock, too, and looks to see Taehyung rocking his hips.

"Oh, that's perfect," Jimin croons. "Wouldn't you agree, everyone? JK?"

"Yeah," Jungkook says breathlessly, and brushes some of Taehyung's bangs out of his eyes. He looks up at Jungkook helplessly, making another noise around the cage shaft. "You're perfect, Tae."

A tip rings out from the speakers. Jungkook grins bashfully and looks back up at Jimin, who's smiling fondly.

"I couldn't agree more," he coos. "But you know, there's always more we can do. Tae has been trained so well, after all. So today we're going to try something out for you all that was suggested on an earlier livestream, and so generously paid for by one particularly interested site member. Because you all know how often I complain about missing his adorable eyes when he's struggling... thank you to mintaefan4lyf for buying us a set of blackout contacts!”

Jungkook shivers right alongside Taehyung's continuous moans. He couldn't get off work the day the two of them tested the contacts, so this is going to be his first time seeing them in action as well. He's already fantasized about it.

Jimin nudges out with his foot. "Onto your back, baby." It's entrancing to watch, Taehyung struggling, and that's the point of today. It takes a second, but Taehyung manages, amidst the bondage and electric pads, to roll onto his back. The position is almost more compromising, since Taehyung can neither close nor stretch out his legs, so he's stuck vulnerable with legs up and apart. "JK, could you bring the camera closer for this one?"

Jungkook stands to snap the cam out of its tripod, already at half-height and focused on Taehyung, and brings it over, while Jimin goes to wash his hands in the corner sink. Filming is another thing he's done before for them, so he doesn’t have to focus too hard. He follows Jimin down when Jimin comes back, and sits just behind Taehyung's head, pulling his head up into his lap. Taehyung blinks up cutely.

"There's our pretty toy," Jimin says affectionately, brushing Taehyung's bangs back to either side, then tapping fingers at his temples. "Are you ready to give up your sight and be really helpless for us, toy?"

Taehyung makes another choked noise around the shaft, nodding his head. Jimin smiles, and reaches beside him to pop open the contacts case, taking time to rinse both his index fingers and contact with solution.

"Hold nice and still now, Taetae, I don't care that you're being shocked," Jimin says kindly. "Someone paid a lot of money to see you this helpless, wasn't that so nice of them? If you're rude enough to make me drop these and have to try again, I'll turn up the unit so high you scream. I trained you better than that."

Taehyung vocalizes a keen, and makes visible effort to still himself. Only the muscles of his thighs and his dick are still twitching, helpless to the electric impulses running through them, and Jungkook knows his stomach below the straitjacket must be as well. Jimin hums as he holds open one of Taehyung's eyes, and slips the contact in, lifting his hands away for Taehyung to blink and let it settle.

Jungkook can't help but shudder at the intimacy of it, and hopes the slip doesn't transfer to the camerawork. Even as he's been playing with them a year, and watching their content six months before that, it still stuns him, sometimes. Even things that aren't necessarily erotic—like putting in these lenses, or the massages Jimin gives Taehyung after scenes, or the strength training Jungkook knows Taehyung does for scene endurance, can be so intense between them. Taehyung hadn't even flinched, keeping his eyes wide and fixed on Jimin, completely vulnerable and trusting.

I can let go with him, Taehyung had explained, so early on, when they were trying to pin down which side of the spectrum Jungkook was more attracted to. I can let go and stop having to be a person, and just feel, and know that he'll take me through it and be there for me on the other side.

"Is that good, honey? Doesn't scratch or anything?" Jimin asks softly. Taehyung blinks another few times, and makes another soft noise and nod. "Okay. Next one."

The second lens goes in with a little more effort, Jimin dropping it off his finger onto Taehyung's cheek. Taehyung makes an indignant noise, and Jungkook hopes the camera doesn't tremble with his snort. "Oh, quiet," Jimin scolds down affectionately at Taehyung, and re-rinses the contact. It goes in without incident this time. Again, Taehyung blinks to let it orient itself, and nods to Jimin's question of its comfort.

Jungkook focuses the camera on Taehyung's face without needing to be told. He's watching just as hypnotized as viewers must be. Both the pupil and iris of Taehyung's eyes are now entirely black, blocked by the dark contacts, and they flicker around blankly.

Jimin tugs at the cage shaft. Taehyung opens his mouth obediently, a string of spit following the steel out. Jimin wipes the cage against his cheek, and sets it aside. "Tell our members what you see, love."

"Nothing," Taehyung says, a smile spreading across his face. He licks his lips, trembling re-surfacing now that he doesn't have to hold still. "M'blindfolded, but—everyone can still see me."

"Right you are, darling," Jimin cheers. "We can still see your pretty face as you struggle. Won't that be lovely? For us, I mean."

"Yes, sir," Taehyung all but moans, hips shaking. "I'm—oh, god, m'so helpless, it feels so good—"

"Not what I asked, but thank you," Jimin winks at the camera. "We can't have it feeling too good now, can we? JK, turn up the unit, and let's get a couple more electrodes going. His soles, maybe."

Taehyung whines high, but gets no mercy for it. Jungkook puts the camera back onto the tripod then does as asked, sticking an electrode to each of the soles of Taehyung's feet, and another two to the backs of his thighs. He's shaking all over now, clearly struggling to stay on his back and unbalanced from his legs up, but unable to fall to one side until ordered.

Jimin works while Jungkook does, getting out the gag set they're using today. A sizable ring gag, first, fitting it into Taehyung's teeth and lifting his head from his lap to buckle it down. Then an inflatable dildo, though he spends some time fucking it in and out of Taehyung's mouth leisurely before fastening it, watching Jungkook work instead.

Because Jungkook is doing the last step, lifting the muzzle with hands trembling in excitement. It's not a perfect fit, since the pump of the inflatable dildo doesn't fit through the interlocking leather and has to dangle out below instead, but it still looks gorgeous, and sends a chill through Jungkook to buckle it on. All the while Taehyung's looking up helplessly blank, blinking as though it might dislodge the blackout contacts and let him see again.

Jungkook nods when he's done, and Jimin dials up the electrostim unit several levels all at once. Taehyung makes a muffled howl around the gag, mouth hooked open and stuffed and muzzled, and Jungkook takes the opportunity to squeeze the pump of the dildo in his mouth a few times. Taehyung's cheeks bulge just that much more, and Jungkook pokes a finger at it, grinning.

"Don't forget his ass," Jimin says meanly, and stands. To step down on the pump that's dangling below, and Taehyung's following yelp is even more muffled now. He kicks a leg, forgetting the frogtie, and falls onto his side. Jimin laughs. "Aw, baby really is helpless. Try to get back up for us."

Taehyung tries, and Jungkook can't help but bite his lip hard at it, heat stirring in his belly. He's been hard for a bit, but it's one thing to help set Taehyung up for scenes, fantasizing about what comes next, and another entirely to watch Taehyung squirming in the restrictive bondage. Taehyung only succeeds in rolling half over before falling back onto his back, wiggling again, ass and thighs clenching visibly from the e-stim.

Jimin croons, but the fondness doesn't save Taehyung. Jimin lifts and grinds a heavy boot onto Taehyung's ass, kicking lightly at the inflatable plug’s base. "I said try to get back up, not hump the floor like a dog. You gonna prove you can still crawl like a human, or start barking?"

Taehyung groans, trying to snap his body back around to roll back up onto his side, at least. It's almost impossible in the bondage, wherein lies the predicament that's the focus today. His legs are kept apart, tied thigh to shin, and arms still wrapped around himself in the straitjacket's hug. To top it off he's still blinded, and yeah, Jungkook sees the appeal. They, and the audience, can clearly see Taehyung's face, as he scrunches his brows and sweats and struggles, wide eyed and writhing on the floor. His blacked out eyes search desperately.

"Come on, Taetae. You're not being a very fun toy, are you? Tell you what, get back up on your knees in the next—oh, let's say, five minutes, and I'll let you edge with electricity and my boot on your dick. Fail to do so, and JK is going to cane your ass, and puff those dildos up until you're stuffed stupid at both ends. How does that sound, dog?"

Taehyung's protest is loud and stupid around the inflatable dildo. Tips are pouring in, now, and Jungkook realizes he's palming himself over his sweatpants, and wonders how many viewers are doing the same to Taehyung's predicament. He's impossible to resist, a fantasy come to life, twisting around on the floor helpless and kicking up his hips. Every time he rolls onto his side and seems to get half up, he tips back over, unable to catch himself with his arms bound around himself in the jacket.

"Two minutes left," Jimin says, winking at the camera despite the cold in his voice. After all, Taehyung can’t see them, just has the voices. "Don't cry too hard when we beat your ass red, dumb fucking toy. I think this is a very generous opportunity. It'll only be your fault if you can't—oh, there he is!"

With a monumentous effort and groan, Taehyung, rolled onto his front now—knees and forehead, and wriggling his torso to try and tip himself back—makes it. He hovers a moment, body shaking and ready to drop back down, but he wins the battle against gravity and tips up onto his knees, sagging with a cry.

"There's the obedient bitch I trained," Jimin says, and ruffles Taehyung's hair condescendingly. Taehyung grunts, still blinking sightlessly, panting loud around the gags, and shaking from the electricity pulsing through his body. "Now make it to my leg, and I'll let you hump it."

Taehyung groans again and swings around his head, almost a complaint. Jungkook can almost hear his voice, and has to struggle not to snort. Jimin rolls his eyes with a smile.

"Yes, I know you can't see. You can hear, can't you? Come on, pretty bitch, follow my voice. JK, give those gauges a few more pumps, I think he needs some more motivation."

Taehyung shakes his head with a shrill noise, and struggles forward on his knees. Jungkook still catches both pumps in his hands, and gives them a few more squeezes, watching Taehyung bend in half for it and nearly topple again. Seemingly merciful, Jimin grabs him by his hair, keeping him upright, and tugs him forward. Taehyung stumbles with it on his knees, all the gear clinking.

"Go ahead," Jimin says boredly, stepping his legs between Taehyung's, above the spreader bar. Taehyung makes a grateful sound, shuffling forward and shuddering bodily to brush his cock against Jimin's shin. "JK, turn up the unit. I want his dick stinging. Go ahead and spank his ass anyway, too, he took too long."

Taehyung twists and yelps when Jungkook twists the dial, collapsing in on himself for a moment. Jimin shakes him roughly, hand still in his hair.

"Keep humping, dog. If you stop again, I'll take away my leg."

Taehyung chokes out an incomprehensible apology or plea, and starts working his hips again. Jerkily, likely from the electrostim pulsing through his cock doing more than the friction from Jimin's leg. His face is flushed from exertion, sightless eyes staring up and searching frantically for anything but darkness.

Jimin just pats his cheek, and watches Jungkook settle behind Taehyung. Taehyung whimpers at Jungkook's nails trailing up his ass, and the light slaps and gropes he begins with, touching fascinatedly to the twitching muscles jumping beyond Taehyung's control.

"Come on and get close so I can take off those loops and leave you aching," Jimin drawls. Jungkook below is getting more warmed up, and spanking Taehyung confidently. It had been one of their first ever scenes together after all, a filmed educational thing for the website while Jimin coached him. This pain Taehyung likes, so he's actually squirming into it as he humps awkwardly, and then making an urgent noise.

"Are you close, Tae?" Jimin asks. Taehyung nods with something like a choked sob, when he's greeted with another satisfyingly loud spank every time his hips rock back towards Jungkook's hand. "Oh, good boy. I knew you could still follow orders. In that case..."

Jimin takes away his leg, and Taehyung wails. Jungkook keeps spanking him, harder and faster, and Taehyung jerks with it, tries to babble around the plastic cock in his mouth.

"Shut up, I don't care," Jimin says boredly, and reaches to turn down the electrostim unit. So he can unplug the two loops dangling off Taehyung's cock from the machine without shocking himself, and Taehyung hangs his head, tears in his sightless eyes. "Oh, yes, I do like being able to see your face. Are you going to cry for me, baby? Did you want to come? If you say yes, I'll let you finish right now. I'll even use my mouth to get you off."

Taehyung sways, a long moan in his throat. Jungkook pauses his spanking, and they watch Taehyung blink, and lid his eyes, and rock his hips against nothing as he weighs it. Then—

Taehyung shakes his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. Jimin croons, taking Taehyung's cheeks in his hands and thumbing at the tears, pressing their foreheads together.

"So good for me," Jimin sighs. "So well-trained. Don't worry, darling. It's only two months 'til our anniversary." Taehyung nods, and sniffs, choking on it. "You wanna keep going like this, right? Keep rolling around like a pretty toy and lose your mind to it?" Taehyung nods again, keening softly.

Jimin kisses Taehyung's forehead, and Jungkook reaches to stroke a hesitant hand at the base of his scalp. Jimin beckons him with a nod, and Jungkook pulls Taehyung into a hug, letting Taehyung slump against him.

"I'm going to get some work done on the site back here, then," Jimin says, smile benevolent as he scratches through Taehyung's hair. "JK will be taking over. Taetae, you know the request today—keep trying to squirm around, pretty thing, and JK will take some pictures for the site, and keep giving you treats or shocks as he sees fit. And thank you, everyone, for your continued support of the site. It's your most generous membership prices that fund new toys like these blackout contacts, so enjoy our Taetae struggling for the rest of the live!"

It's as he says, and thrilling. Jungkook is just as touched by their growing trust in him as he is turned on as he is nervous, but Jimin stays in frame, working on his laptop and keeping a watchful eye. Jungkook tends to try and channel Jimin in his more uncertain moments, but he's feeling a buzz of confidence now, and even glances to the monitor and takes some suggestions from the comment feed, Jimin smiling to himself at it. Considering that a year ago, Jungkook had blushed at the idea of spanking Taehyung.

Now he clips a chain leash onto Taehyung's eternity collar, 'walking' Taehyung on his knees around the electrostim unit, turned back up, and scolding Taehyung for his slow, jerky shuffle. He gets a flogger out for motivation, and pinches Taehyung's nose shut until he's squirming for a breath, and pushes him over again like Jimin had and giggles with a shared look to Jimin when he says, "Oops, can you get back up?" and Taehyung groans. He even performs a safety check with Jimin's nod of approval, and grins so proudly of himself with each tip that chimes in that he tugs down the mask and presses a kiss to Taehyung's muzzle, right over his locked mouth. 

There’s nothing quite like looking into his eyes right now, getting to see Taehyung’s expressions as he struggles. His wide dark eyes look back at Jungkook, and he doesn’t even know.

"Maybe Jimin will let you suck me off after this," Jungkook whispers to him, and is rewarded with a whimper from Taehyung and another tip ringing out. Jungkook puffs the pump of the dildo in his mouth a size higher. "It'd be almost nothing after this gag, huh?"

"Oh, I like that idea," Jimin says smoothly, eyes glinting above his laptop. "I can fuck him from behind for being such a good little toy and amusing our audience with your predicament, would you like that, Taetae? Or would you even feel it after being stretched so full? Give him another few pumps, JK, I want him gaping when I fuck him. Mm, and turn the unit up a bit more too, I haven't heard him scream in a while..."

And they do, at the end, because Jungkook is freeing Taehyung's mouth, unbuckling the muzzle and deflating the dildo to pull out and unhooking the ring gag, and immediately, drool spilling out, Taehyung chokes, "Fuck me. Please, fuck me, I can't stop thinking about what you said, m'gonna be so empty and I want you both please—"

"Slut," Jimin remarks, sounding impressed. He smacks Taehyung's ass, and bends him down. Taehyung goes with a hiccup, cheek pressing into the floor, still hugging himself in his jacket and frogtied legs kept apart. Jimin doesn't bother to deflate the inflatable plug, just tugs at it, and beckons JK over with a low whistle. It catches on Taehyung's rim, Jimin pulling it out agonizingly slowly, and just as it's about to slip loose Jimin pushes it back in and pats the base. Taehyung yells in frustration, wriggling his hips. Jimin mocks a pout, "Aw, did we melt your mind a little today, baby? Are you this needy for it?"

"Yes! Yes, please, y’made me d-dumb, please," Taehyung sniffles, "M'so needy, feel so fucking dumb and small and—and full, I wanna stay full, wanna get fucked and used more, please—"

"Hm. Electrodes back on, just halfway up," Jimin decides, and Taehyung squirms again. "Plug the loops on his cock back in, too. He's been good."

Damn, this reupload is gonna be expensive to download, is one of the last coherent thoughts Jungkook has as he angles the tripod down, being a former site member himself. Videos go up in price depending on their length and content.

"Fuck, that's what I like to see," Jimin exhales over Taehyung's groan when he finally slips the plug out. He hooks his thumbs in Taehyung's clenching hole, and spits in, digging his nails into Taehyung's ass cheeks and bouncing them. "A loose fucking whore. How's that pretty empty head of yours doing now, cockslut?"

"Please," Taehyung almost sobs, writhing, muscles dancing with the electricity and cheek smushed to the floor, sightless eyes tearful. "M'so empty, I need it bad M-Minnie, I'll be so good and full and used, please fuck me please fuck me please!"

"Well, I'm convinced," Jimin says to the camera wryly, unhooking the spreader bar. Not that Taehyung gets to close his legs, when Jimin sits between them. The tips are chiming every other second, now, Jungkook himself wide-eyed at the drool pooling openly out of Taehyung's mouth onto the floor, at his cock jerking with the electricity, at his blank eyes tearing up. "You game, JK?"

"Fuck," Jungkook mutters, tugging down his sweats, hard cock in hand in seconds. "Is that a joke?"

"Nah. He deserves it," Jimin says fondly. "Tae baby, give the camera a color."

"Green," Taehyung almost sobs, jerking with the electricity. "Green, oh fuck, fuck, please fuck me, m'so fucking empty—"

"Still got a foul fucking mouth, though," Jimin mutters. Taehyung doesn't retort back, because he hears the zip of Jimin's pants and feels his cock go in and his eyes roll up. "Oh, baby. You're sucking me right in, you really were empty, weren't you?"

"Uh-huh," Taehyung nods in a babble, shuddering with Jimin's first thrust in. And then shaking with a cry as Jimin pulls back and slips out, fisting his own cock with a laugh. "N-No, please, come back, please!"

"Easy, darling, I'm just toying with you. My good toy, remember your clicker if you need it," Jimin croons, and hooks a hand in the straitjacket's collar, hoisting Taehyung up onto his knees. "All yours, JK. I think he wants it."

"Please," Taehyung begs, lips wet and wide with tears and spit. His dark eyes blink up frantically, flickering around where Jungkook might be, and he's trembling so much that his jerks could be mistaken as responses to the tips crashing in instead of the electricity. "Please, give it to me, I'm so fucking good and—and empty, and a toy, I need it—"

"Fuck," Jungkook whispers, and bucks his hips into Taehyung's mouth. He meets no resistance, and Taehyung's eyes almost roll up again, his moan shaking through them both. Behind him Jimin picks up his own pace with zero warning or warmup, snapping his hips hard and fast. Taehyung rocks on his knees between them, every bit the toy and thing he's been made today, still locked immobile in the jacket and frogtie.

He groans so pleasedly when Jungkook comes. Jungkook first, because he's not sure he'll ever have the control Jimin does, and when he slips his cock free Taehyung's tongue stays hanging out, cum and spit dripping from it in a string still connected to Jungkook's dick before snapping to the floor instead. Jungkook cups hands to Taehyung’s cheeks to barely any response, and watches in rapture as his friend’s fucked dumb.

"Turn off the stim unit," Jimin purrs a few minutes later, and Jungkook blinks hazily before obeying. Taehyung cries at the loss of stimulation, and gets a loud smack to his ass for it, before being lowered forward again. Dazed, Jungkook thinks Taehyung might be crying harder at the loss of Jimin’s dick than being pushed back down to the floor.

"P-Please, Jiminie, don't stop fucking me," Taehyung whimpers, squirming his hips, ass in the air. "M'good, please."

"Oh, baby, I promise I won't," Jimin sings, lining back up in the new position and fucking in hard. "Not until you're right on the edge. Baby's gonna get a lovely ruin for us, so you cry for me when you're right on the edge, hm? From my cock alone, none of the electricity. JK, bring the camera in."

Jungkook scrambles for it, taking all his willpower to keep his hands from shaking as he kneels and focuses it in on the two of them. Jimin smooths one comforting hand down Taehyung's back, and then thrusts out and in again.

"Understand?"

"Yes, yes, I understand! I understand I understand thank you so much, sir, thank you—" Taehyung babbles when Jimin picks up his pace again. And it doesn't take long, before, "Fuck, I'm—m'gonna, m'gonna come, Jiminie, please, m’right there—"

"Nope," Jimin pops the sound, and pushes Taehyung off his cock. Taehyung falls sideways, and jerks his hips, and screams.

"M-Minnie, no, no—" he sobs as the ruined orgasm crashes over him, so slowly. Jungkook isn't sure he's breathing anymore, as he focuses the camera in on Taehyung's jerking hips, where there's a pathetic dribble of cum beading out of his dick and dripping.

"Bring the camera here, look at this," Jimin says smugly, and yanks Taehyung back up onto his knees to spread him. Jungkook's dick stirs again as the camera zeroes in on Taehyung's hole, clenching uselessly with the ruined orgasm.

Jimin lets him go again, and Taehyung falls back to his side, frogtied legs closing without the spreader bar. He's shaking, looking off dazedly, but still mumbles a "Thank you," when he feels the cum land on his thighs from Jimin stroking his cock. "Thank you. Thank you, oh, thank you."

"You're welcome," Jimin says sweetly. “Slut.”

They end a stream with quick goodbyes. Jungkook waves a hand, shy as everything in the scene starts to register fully, and Jimin gives his usual promise to take good care of Taehyung.

“Help me sit him up,” Jimin murmurs when the camera’s off, and Jungkook leaps to follow. This is part of his training, too, after all, and one of the most important parts of it. He picks at the knots tying Taehyung’s legs while Jimin makes quick work of the straitjacket’s straps, and Taehyung stretches out slowly, shivering on a sigh of relief to unbend his legs and sit down.

“You were really good, Tae,” Jungkook says, thumbing at Taehyung’s cheek while Jimin helps his arms out of the jacket. Taehyung closes his eyes and leans into the touch, sniffling. “You were incredible. That was amazing.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung whispers, blinking another few tears out. “You—too.”

“C’mon and stretch out your arms for me,” Jimin says softly, rubbing Taehyung’s shoulders when the jacket’s free. “There you go, s’it feel good?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs, flexing out his arms and dropping the clicker, sweaty from his palm. “Feels good. Feels—really needy, but… good. Dizzy and down. Thank you for the ruin, Minnie, Kookie.”

“You’re very welcome, my precious boy,” Jimin whispers, pressing a kiss to Taehyung’s cheek. “Do you want to lay down or stay up while I take out the contacts?”

Taehyung blinks a second. “Up,” he says.

“Okay,” Jimin says, thumbing at his brow. “I’m going to wash my hands, but Jungkook is here with you, and I’m going to be right back.”

“I’ve got you,” Jungkook vocalizes, a bit raspy, and clears his throat. He scoots closer, and wraps an arm around Taehyung, who melts against his side. “I can get off some of the pads, too.”

He does all of the visible ones, since Taehyung is sitting on the others. Jimin comes back with the contacts case and clean hands, and kneels beside them, scratching lightly under Taehyung’s chin and calling to him. Taehyung turns and looks vaguely in his direction, and stills under Jimin’s hands.

Jungkook hadn’t been able to get off work to be around when they tried them, but he knows they’d practiced Jimin taking them in and out several times. So Jimin works quickly, pulling open each eye and tugging them out gently, and Jungkook rubs at Taehyung’s back during it. Taehyung blinks rapidly while Jimin cleans the contacts and puts them in the case, looking around dazedly.

“You good?” Jungkook asks, and a smile tugs at Taehyung’s face.

“Good,” he says, eyes meeting Jungkook’s, seeing again. “Mm, thirsty. A little cold.”

“Corner time,” Jimin sings, “Up we go. C’mon, Jungkookie, you can get his other side.”

It’s the corner rarely seen in their videos, to the side under the stairs. Made into a soft little nook, whenever Jimin and Taehyung had remodeled the basement. It’s got a plush circle carpet, and a full mattress Jungkook knows is left over from their first apartment together, and a mini-fridge with snacks and juice. Jungkook helps Taehyung up alongside Jimin, snagging the last few electrode pads off and tossing them, before they help him over and down onto the mattress, tugging up the thick blankets for him. They snuggle in on either side of him, and Jungkook is closest to the fridge, so he grabs Taehyung’s favorite soda while Jimin fluffs up the pillows.

You’re okay, they tell him both, stroking his hair and chest and back. Taehyung sighs, and pulls them to press closer against them, hair pressing to his forehead. You were so good, you’re amazing, shh.

“I know,” Taehyung says sleepily, and gets affectionate laughs for it. Jimin kicks off his pants under the covers, and burrows closer, throwing his leg over Taehyung to spoon him while Taehyung buries his face against Jungkook’s chest. “I’m the best.”

“Damn straight,” Jungkook whispers, and gets another drowsy grin.

“Feed me by hand,” Taehyung demands, poking at Jungkook’s stomach under the covers. “I had your dick in my throat, I deserve the world.”

How can Jungkook argue with that? He just groans, rolling onto his back to throw his arm out behind him and fumble with the fridge. Gets—pre-cut apple slices? Good enough, because Taehyung opens his mouth and crunches down on them from Jungkook’s hand contentedly.

“Isn’t there anything unhealthy in here?” Jungkook squints up over his shoulder at the fridge. “I swear I hid chocolate in here last week.”

Jimin snorts. “It’s like forty inches, Jungkook, you can’t hide shit in there. Tae ate it the second he saw it.”

“Guilty as charged,” Taehyung opens his mouth like a baby bird for the next apple slice. Jungkook sighs and complies. “I don’t even think it was after a video, I just… nom.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” Jungkook says. Taehyung nips his finger. “Ouch! The fuck?”

“Woof woof, motherfucker,” Taehyung mumbles. “Call me a dog, I’ll act like one.”

“As if you didn’t love it,” Jimin rolls his eyes and kisses the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Let us know if you want any lotion or anything.”

“Nap,” Taehyung orders them. “Then bath, and endless praise. And—” it’s hard to tell while he’s still flushed, but Jungkook thinks Taehyung might color a bit darker. “And then please put my cage back on.”

“Of course,” Jimin croons, reaching to pinch Taehyung’s cheek. “I know how much you love wearing it.”

“Mmshut up,” Taehyung says, and pinches Jungkook’s nipple to distract. Jungkook yelps. “Next bite, servant.”

“Menace,” Jungkook says without malice, and meets Jimin’s eyes over Taehyung’s shoulder with a smile, and feeds him another slice.

Chapter Text

Being shy is hard. It’s even harder when there’s things you desperately want to do—gripping hair more tightly, dirty talk made filthier—and can’t quite make it match up to fantasy.

It makes it easier, though, when one of your boyfriends is a telepath.

“Show him how much you want it,” Jimin orders. He doesn’t have to, with the way his powers work, but the lazy drawl of it only further accents the scene. Taehyung moans throatily, and Jungkook will never know whether it’s Jimin’s control or of his own accord. It doesn’t really matter; Jimin’s in their heads, right now, and he can see exactly how much Taehyung wants it.

Even if Taehyung was trying to hide it. Not that he could, once ordered. Taehyung’s eyes are glazed as he gazes up at Jungkook, sat between his legs and mouth stuffed with cock. It suits him, the three of them like to tease, but right now Jungkook couldn’t say it even if he thought to. Can’t say anything, pinned under Jimin’s thumb like this. To be fair, he doesn’t think to, though. Jimin’s control is insidious, a drug that slips through their minds and leaves Jungkook and Taehyung pliant and puppeted.

Show him how much you want it, Jimin orders, and Taehyung’s body moves on invisible strings. He forces himself down further on Jungkook’s cock, further and further, until it hits the back of his throat and he nearly gags. Nearly, because Jimin halts the reflex. Under his control, they can’t even gag unless allowed. Taehyung’s kept still, instead, a drooling, vacant thing that looks up at Jungkook with begging eyes and an empty head.

Jungkook can relate, as he slips further and further under Jimin’s spell. In these scenes it doesn’t take long for him to drop. Already he feels like a marionette, watching dazedly from outside his body as Jimin pulls each string, raising Jungkook’s hand to grip into Taehyung’s hair.

Under Jimin’s silent order, Jungkook pulls Taehyung off, leaving an string of spit and precum that snaps and dangles obscenely from Taehyung’s lower lip. Jungkook can see the plea in Taehyung’s eyes, the immediate urge he has to dart his tongue out, but Jimin doesn’t allow it. Only allows Taehyung’s tongue out, and nothing further, so his tongue hangs uselessly and he continues to drool. 

Jungkook feels just as needy as Taehyung, but for the loss of the warm, wet mouth around his cock. He aches for more, but any and all sensation is a gift from Jimin. A privilege, not a right.

“He’s good, isn’t he,” Taehyung says blankly. Heat surges through Jungkook to realize—it’s Jimin, speaking through Taehyung about Taehyung, using the control gripped around their minds to make them speak like little more than mouthpieces. Dolls fucking on display for his entertainment. “Use him.”

Jungkook may never get used to the feeling of Jimin seizing hold of his muscles. He hopes he doesn’t. The loss of control is far too arousing, it’d be a tragedy to get used to. He doesn’t want to ever lose the rush in his chest and heat in his belly to feel and watch himself move beyond his control. Jimin has him grip his hand tighter in Taehyung’s hair, and tug him back, forcing Taehyung back down on his cock. Further this time. 

Undoubtedly Taehyung would be whining and twitching and gagging under normal conditions, but right now isn’t normal, so he’s held as still as a toy. Only the flush in his cheeks, and the semi between his legs, gives any clue to how unbearably turned on he is. Jungkook imagines that Taehyung might be begging Jimin, in his mind, to let him suck Jungkook off properly, and nearly comes on the spot from the idea.

Toys, the both of them. Jimin watches lazily, keeping them prisoners in their own heads, pinned down under an absolute control. It’s only more enticing to remember that Jimin can see, hear, feel everything going on in both their minds, see exactly what they both want and gift or deny it as he likes.

“That’s right,” Jimin says, a purr, and: You’re thinking too much, a voice that rings through Jungkook’s head as clearly as if it had been aloud as well. Maybe I should take that away too.

Please, Jungkook tries to say, but Jimin strangles the words in his throat. The only sign of a struggle is his mouth so-slightly parting. Jimin doesn’t let him close it.

“Beg, then,” Jimin answers, as if it’d been normal conversation. Jungkook thinks Jimin might be touching himself, but he can’t even turn his eyes to look. His body is no longer his own. He is a puppet, in everything but mind. His gaze is locked onto Taehyung’s, who is—before, there had been a spark in his eye, just his body controlled. 

That’s gone, now, and Jungkook would moan if he were able to. Taehyung always falls so much faster under complete control. Jungkook finds his consciousness tends to put up a struggle. Even when he wants it, Jimin has to force him down. And today he does want it, more than anything now after seeing Taehyung’s vacant expression. Utter bliss, mouth and throat made into nothing more than a living fleshlight under Jimin’s command. Jungkook craves to be that lost.

I want it, Jungkook thinks, and struggles against the mental shackles wrapped around him to move his lips, to beg like Jimin told him, to at least moan, to do anything. Instead, all that happens is drool pooling on his lip, and his cock twitching in Taehyung’s mouth. His hand moving without him, and he watches it with all the control of being someone else’s, forcing Taehyung’s mouth up and down on his dick for a too-slow, teasing fuck. 

Jimin sounds amused. “I said to beg.”

I can’t, Jungkook whines dizzily inside his head. He can’t even lift his tongue. Spit’s pooling steadily. The thought of how they must look, as Jimin plays with his dolls and Jungkook about to drool on himself, sends another curl of heat through him. I can’t, I can’t.

“And why’s that?” Jimin hums. He’s definitely touching himself, Jungkook thinks. There’s just a slight hitch to the commanding drawl, one Jungkook only detects because of how intricately they all know each other, in and out of bed. Maybe he’s waiting for Jungkook to fall, before guiding them over to him. To rearrange them as he pleases, their minds blank and bodies ready for use. 

God, he wants it. He needs Jimin to shove him down, wrangle his stubborn consciousness under control. But he has to beg for it, and he can’t.

Jungkook tries to speak again. Every part of him aches to obey. But there’s no struggling against the invisible chains that have him and Taehyung tied down and together and putting on a show. Still, a tear manages to slip from his eye.

Because, Jungkook thinks, and watches Taehyung’s eyelashes flutter when his eyes roll back, chin a wet mess and cock hard and ignored between his legs. There’s nothing in his eyes except Jimin, except Jimin’s control, and Jungkook wants that level of emptiness for himself so badly it’s starting to hurt. He can’t even speed his hand in Taehyung’s hair, can’t fuck his facee any faster than the slow steady rhythm Jimin’s allowing. Is controlling. Because you won’t let me, Jungkook wails inside his mind. You control everything, a last lament, as he fucks Taehyung’s mouth down on himself with a grip in his hair that isn’t his. 

No one would be able to tell his distress, outside Jimin, with his body being kept so perfect. “That’s right,” Jimin sighs, and if he wasn’t touching himself before he definitely is now. His breath is shaky, and self-satisfied, when he croons, gloats: “I control everything. I decide. I can see how badly you want to be nothing, and I can deny it, if I like.”

A wordless plea surges in Jungkook’s chest. Jimin laughs aloud at it.

“Luckily for you, darling,” he says, “I’m feeling generous.”

Jungkook could almost cry when he feels himself being dragged down. Jimin is already wound through his thoughts like a curled-up snake, but now his poison spreads. He drips into every crevice of Jungkook’s mind, seizing every inch of every rein. Piece by piece, Jungkook feels himself stolen away, muffled, quieted. Until his eyes must look as empty as Taehyung’s, until his mind is just as pliant and silenced, putty in Jimin’s hand.

Taetae is already gone, is the last thing Jungkook hears. Distantly, he registers Taehyung standing, sliding into Jungkook’s lap, pressing their lips together with eyes just as glazed over. Mirror image dolls on candy floss strings. He can’t think anything of it. All he can do is float. Can be, just a kept thing ready to perform. Now it’s your turn.

Jungkook surrenders to bliss, and everything goes dark.

Chapter Text

"Oh, no," Jimin says. It's as fake as it is sweet. "Oh, no, darling, do you need help?"

Of course Jungkook does. All three of them know it. It only makes the saccharine crooning more difficult to bear, at least without flushing.

It's difficult to even move. With every step, the chain between the shackles on his ankles jingles like a taunt. It's not pulled so taut that Jungkook can't walk, per se, but that might almost be preferable. Instead Jungkook can only take the smallest of baby steps, blushing and hobbling slowly behind Taehyung and Jimin as the two of them hide giggles into their hands.

As inconveniencing as the shackles on his ankles are, though, Jungkook still wished that was it. But his wrists are even more restricted, locked together and drawn close, and that chain is left with much less slack than his ankles. And still even that might be tolerable, were it not for his hands.

Useless. It's the only word for them, after being taped shut, thumb inside each clenched fist. It's what Taehyung had called them, murmured as dotingly as a compliment with a kiss to Jungkook's nose. If he noticed the heat of Jungkook's skin under the blush, he didn't say anything.

Useless, Jungkook thinks again now. He can't do anything, not without aid. That's the point, but knowing so doesn't make it any less embarrassing.

Not when he's staring down at his plate, after it taking so long to hobble to the table in the first place. He'd even needed them to pull the chair out for him, after trying to paw uselessly at it through his taped hands. He's drawn from his thoughts by a repeat of the question, this time a statement.

"You need our help, don't you," Jimin says, answering his own question. Jungkook swallows thickly, but there's no avoiding the truth of it. He tries to look away from Jimin's gaze, only to meet Taehyung's instead, dark and lidded.

"Say it," Taehyung murmurs. It's so entrancing Jungkook barely notices Taehyung's hand moving up until it's gripped on his chin. He couldn't turn away now even if he tried. "Say you need our help."

"I," Jungkook tries. Taehyung's fingers are long and slender, and his grip on Jungkook's chin is strong, a pressure that reminds him with every movement of his jaw. Jungkook's mouth feels dry, his head dizzy. "I... I need your help."

"Mm," Jimin sighs and leans closer. Taehyung uses the grip on his chin to angle Jungkook's face for him, forcing him to turn to face Jimin. Jimin looks equal parts endeared, and amused, and predatory, chin resting in his hand and eyes alight. "Why?"

Jungkook darts his tongue out to lip his lips. "Because," he says, and feels himself spin. Like his mind itself is fleeing from the helplessness of the situation, and all the sensations of it.

Taehyung's tight grip on his chin is only one of them. Jungkook can't forget his vulnerability, even seated. Not when his every motion has the chains between his wrists and ankles jingling. Not when his fists are curled so tightly under layers of tape, after his hands had clenched tightly under their command to be wrapped away.

"Because," Jungkook says again, voice distant. "Because I can't do anything. I can't do anything on my own, right now, I—I need you."

"That's right," Taehyung says sweetly. He uses his grip on Jungkook's chin to raise and lower his head, making him nod obediently. "Open up."

Jimin smirks as he cuts the food on Jungkook's plate into small pieces, and coos when he lifts each bite to Jungkook's mouth. Even trying to open his mouth feels controlled, with Taehyung squishing his cheeks slightly together. Under the table a hand ghosts across and higher up Jungkook's thigh, but you'd never know it from the nonchalance in Jimin's posture as he feeds Jungkook bite by bite.

That's right, Taehyung says. That's right, Jimin whispers, again, when they're back in the bedroom and Jungkook is laid down, his head in Jimin's lap.

That's right, and impossibly gentle fingers pull at his eyelids. Jimin's smile is the last thing Jungkook sees before the blackout lenses are slipped in each of his eyes.

He can't see anything. He can't see anything, he can't do anything, and he barely recognizes the whimper that comes out of his own lips. One of their hands strokes soothingly through his hair, and Taehyung's chuckle is low and deep in his chest, and all Jungkook can do is— be. Be theirs.

Doll, they call him next, and pet. Both vulnerable, docile things relying upon an owner's care. Jungkook parts his lips obediently at something cold and wet pressed to his lips, and lets the berry be fed to him. He bites into a burst of flavor, and another and another, and Taehyung and Jimin take turns kissing each one away.

He can't see. Jungkook lies still and good between them, mind fading with the helplessness learned. It'd been shameful to try to walk so slowly to the kitchen table and back; it's so vastly preferable to lay still here. It'd been so humiliating trying to paw at anything with his taped hands that he's relieved to be held and hand-fed instead. It'd be even worse now that he can't see, so he finds himself grateful to be laying in their laps, instead, and taken care of and treasured.

"Dolls are kept," Jimin whispers into his hair. Jungkook thinks dully of how he must look: eyes blacked-out and sightless, hands and limbs bordering on useless, truly a toy. Their toy. "Dolls are beautiful and good and love to be played with."

Jungkook hears himself whimper, a sound that twists into a low moan when hands wander across his body again.

"Can't believe we even let you try for the table," Taehyung taunts with a laugh. Jungkook's cheeks burn hot with the shame of the reminder. "You had to learn that it's easier, that you're better, like this. Why?"

"Because I need you," Jungkook mumbles. The hand that curls around his cock is wet and cold from finger feeding him the berries. Jungkook is still licking away juice from the backs of his teeth, lips aching for more kisses.

"You certainly do," Jimin croons. "Can't touch yourself anymore, can you? Can't even feed yourself. Useless doll, but useful to us."

"Please," Jungkook mumbles. He blinks, and can barely tell. With the loss of sight and easy motion, his world is narrowed to the hands on him, to his owners' voices. To being useful.

"Please, what?" Taehyung coaxes. Jungkook shifts in their arms, tugs pathetically on the taut chain between his wrists, and shivers.

"Please use me," he whispers, and shudders again at the twin laughs above him. "I need you."

Later he’ll keen for a different kind of attention, lift trembling lips with a craned chin and beg to be held, and they’ll indulge him with the sweetest care. For now, though, he slips seamlessly into the role, and even needs to be arranged for use the way a doll would, and feels their smiles at it in each kiss.

Chapter Text

After so many years, Jimin barely has to try to sink into Taehyung's mind. He's got a foothold there almost all the time, anyway, as it is; a quiet, reassuring presence at night, a link on the battlefield.

But so often, what Taehyung wants is more.

Jimin can make his hold on Taehyung's mind as soft as a blanket or as cruel and unforgiving as chains. Today, Taehyung wants the latter, and Jimin obliges him with an iron fist.

He likes to pretend to be ignoring Taehyung, even as he twists him into submission. To pose, Taehyung forced onto his knees by nothing visible. Hands laced behind his back, shoulders squared, as proper and punished as if he were locked into frame.

But he's bare; Jimin's chains are immaterial.

They snake around his thoughts, drain everything away. Sometimes Taehyung likes to put up a bit of resistance at the beginning, just to feel Jimin crush it out of him. Likes the reminder of the helplessness, the ease with which Jimin pins down his rebellious thoughts and strips them clean like flesh from bone. Taehyung can fight as hard as he likes, knowing he'll lose and anticipating it.

But that struggle was what feels like an eternity ago. When he was still a person, and not an object. He knows better now, because he lost, and now Jimin's power curls around him like a phantom snake. It's as loving as it is cruel, as careful as it is strict. It says: drop, and break, and dolls don't think.

So Taehyung doesn't.

"Sit pretty," Jimin instructs, leaned back in his chair with dark eyes fixing down on him. "I wanna see."

His voice is all Taehyung can hear. The invisible chains pull on him to tug his legs apart, and Taehyung's limbs obey like marionette to string.

Jimin took everything away an eternity ago, and now his command is all that remains. Taehyung is sure that there was nothing before this, and there will be nothing after: only himself, kneeling, held upright in invisible bondage, and aching to be used.

It's all Jimin has filled him with, as he waited: desire, pulsing through his body, deeper in his core than his own heartbeat. All he is is want. He doesn't feel the stiffness of his limbs, doesn't pay attention to the ache between his legs.

Puppets adore their makers, and so Taehyung fixates upon Jimin as he's unmade and rebuilt. He stares up into Jimin's eyes and feels only the desire to serve, to worship. In his mind there's only Jimin, and he aches for his empty mouth to be filled the same.

"Good boy," Jimin murmurs as he presses his sole down onto Taehyung's cock.

A soft noise tries to escape his throat and is buried before it can surface, Jimin stilling his vocal cords. Taehyung can't even blink without Jimin letting him, and the infrequency has made him teary. It might be uncomfortable, were he able to feel anything other than what Jimin allows him.

All Jimin allows him is this. The ache of arousal, secondary to serving; the pressure on his cock, hard enough to hurt. Above it all and most important is Jimin's grip on his mind, and the grip tells him pain is pleasure is pain is pleasure, so stars burst behind Taehyung's eyes as Jimin grinds his heel down. He'd gasp, whine, squirm, if puppets were able to move.

"So good," Jimin hums, eyes lidding. The praise is as sweet as it is cruel, "So pretty."

An absent part of Taehyung preens. The words settle over him like sinking into fog. Jimin has taken away his hearing of anything that isn't his words, so the silence in-between only makes him fall deeper under the spell. He can feel the intent of the praise radiate from Jimin more than he can understand the spoken words.

"But," Jimin says, and Taehyung might panic if he weren't floating. "That doesn't really matter. All you are today is a pretty pair of lips and a warm mouth. That's your purpose, today. How does that make you feel?"

Taehyung's mouth gets even wetter, if possible. Jimin allows his lips to part, dumbly, and he'd fixate on Jimin's cock if his maker's eyes weren't all he could see.

Jimin tips up his chin with a finger. Taehyung's head lolls easily, jaw slack. The fog fills his mind even more thickly. Jimin breathes for him, pulling each string with care.

Under his thumb, Taehyung exhales, and pauses, and then does not inhale again.

He can't breathe.

"I give or deny you anything I like," Jimin murmurs, searching Taehyung's face. Distantly, Taehyung knows what he must look like, because in the past Jimin has shown him from his memories: dumb, glassy-eyed and frozen, gazing at Jimin like his own personal Rapture. The breath flutters in Taehyung's chest, aching to escape, a caught thing. "Even something this simple. This basic. Your very breath. Even this belongs to me."

— belongs to you, Taehyung tries to think, desperate to please. Jimin smiles, and Taehyung can sense amusement and affirmation from him, before the words are gently suppressed. Jimin prefers his emptied mind absent, even of echoes.

Time pauses. Taehyung's stilled chest isn't a source of discomfort. He doesn't even think about the fact he isn't breathing. He just exists, pinned under glass for Jimin's pleasure. Looks into Jimin's eyes, emptied, and drools.

"Beautiful," Jimin whispers. And: "Struggle for me."

The immobilization lifts. There's still not discomfort, just a sort of sudden alarm that he cannot breathe. Taehyung tries to, because Jimin said so, and he struggles when he can't.

The chains loosen, allowing him to panic, and with it Taehyung arches, hands twisting fretfully behind his back. He tries to free his chest, aching to whimper and whine but he can't because that uses breath. It's trapped in his chest, its flutter newly anxious and the fuzziness of oxygen deprivation sapping away what's left of his mind.

He blinks wide, wet eyes at Jimin, mouth opening and closing stupidly. Jimin is his whole world, his satisfied smile all of Taehyung's vision as he tugs the string tighter around Taehyung's neck. Taehyung gapes at him, pleading, and then—

Jimin releases the grip on his lungs. Taehyung gasps for breath, chest heaving, teary eyes still fixed onto Jimin's. Even before he can suck in his next breath, Jimin snaps his fingers sudden and loud beside his ear. "Deeper," he says. "Deeper. Deeper."

Deeper, he pushes into Taehyung's mind, overwhelming it back into perfect blankness.

Taehyung jolts with each command, swaying forward. His head falls into Jimin's lap. He lays stunned, empty, drooling onto Jimin's thigh and staring blankly with blurring vision at the opposite wall. He barely sees it. He only feels gratitude for breathing, for being allowed to breathe, for being sent back down under the glass.

"I know how you're feeling," Jimin says sweetly, after a few moments of perfect blankness and Jimin's hand rested on his head. It's true. Taehyung can feel Jimin in his mind, and the absolute control is only comforting. For how easily Jimin could twist him, hurt him, like this.

Everything he is, held in Jimin's palms, but Jimin only hurts him in the ways he can see Taehyung crave in the deepest buried parts of himself. Jimin can push him right to his limits, to the edge of his consciousness, to the edge of himself, a hair trigger away from nothing. And then shorten his strings, pull him back like the puppet he is, danced back from and back to the edge. His tool. His toy. His.

Taehyung isn't allowed the words to think any of it, but he tears up knowing that Jimin knows.

"Yes, I know how you're feeling," Jimin says again, sweeter. “I could let you thank me, if I wanted to. Let you cry and grovel and worship me like you're aching to—ah, but you don't talk."

A tear slips from Taehyung's eye.

"You can't, because I took that away from you," Jimin whispers. His fingers comb gently through Taehyung's hair. "I took your breath from you, and I took your words from you, and I even took the memory of how I took everything away from you. You're my plaything. My doll."

Jimin lets Taehyung slip his eyes shut. Being entranced is even more soothing in the dark. Jimin's words sink into his core and become his everything.

"Even less than that, really," Jimin muses. "You're nothing, today. A pretty, empty head. A pretty, empty mouth. Warm and wet and willing and all mine. All you are is empty. Your mouth and your mind, empty. Only to be filled up by me."

His fingers still in Taehyung's hair.

"Doll, you don't even breathe unless I let you."

Taehyung’s chest stills again, once more beyond his control. He can’t make himself breathe, can’t direct something so simple and essential. He’s fuzzy, floating above his body, giving little jerks and twitches as he chokes on nothing.

Jimin grips his chin to tilt his head up again. Taehyung is limp, pliant as a doll, arranged as desired for Jimin to move Taehyung’s head side to side, inspecting him with a smile. At Taehyung’s dull eyes, vacant expression. Slack, drooling mouth, utter helplessness in Jimin’s hands. His eyes don’t even track anything, unfocused.

He aches to breathe, but he wants to be filled up by Jimin more. Fresh tears slip down his cheeks when Jimin kisses him. Lazily, little pecks on Taehyung’s slack, open mouth. And then deepened, Jimin enjoying Taehyung at his leisure, taking what he wants from the one sided kiss.

At the edge of consciousness, he frees Taehyung’s chest while their lips are still locked. Taehyung gasps against his mouth, and Jimin licks at his trembling lips with a purr while Taehyung desperately breathes him in.

“You scare everyone out there, you know,” Jimin murmurs almost gently against Taehyung’s lips. Taehyung breathes heavily, chest shuddering, anticipating the loss of it again any moment. Jimin cups Taehyung's cheeks in his hands, swiping away tears with his thumbs and pressing their foreheads together. The words float by Taehyung as he stares into Jimin’s eyes, enraptured. “Good. They should be. But they’ll never see you like this, hm? Never know that you’re mine to toy with. Who do you belong to?”

Taehyung feels Jimin release just enough of his iron grip to let him speak. He still has to struggle for it, try to push the word out with a gasp, tongue heavy in his mouth, “Y-Yours.”

Jimin laughs, pecks a kiss to his slack lips before strangling his vocal cords once more. He pushes Taehyung down, deeper, a prisoner in his own mind.

“That's right,” Jimin says, fondly. He sits back up, twists a hand in Taehyung’s hair. The rough pull is comforting. “C’mon. Back to work.”

He gives Taehyung just enough movement back that he can willingly sink his mouth down on Jimin’s cock. With another shove from Jimin down on his mind, he empties completely. Ceases to be anything except for his.

The tears that stream down Taehyung's cheeks are happy ones, even if he no longer feels them.

Chapter Text

"You're thinking too much, baby," Jimin says. It's sweet, and soft, and sympathetic. Taehyung all but melts at the tone, eyes following Jimin's finger. He's moving it side to side, slowly and in a long loop, his wrist curving with the pattern. "I get it. You've got to be so responsible all the time, so stressful. It must just be exhausting, isn't it?"

It's a pattern, Taehyung realizes, as his eyes flick back and forth. Distantly he feels pleased with himself for realizing, like he could almost hear the echo of how Jimin might say good boy with a smile in his voice. He sees the pattern, back-forth back-forth, because he's been watching. Because Jimin told him to watch.

"Yes," Taehyung agrees, though he's already forgotten what he was agreeing to. It's already gone, slipped in one ear and out the next, the way Jimin describes his thoughts when he's like this. But they stay in your head where it matters, Taehyung remembers, as he feels his shoulders relax just a little more. "Exhausting."

"That's why I'm taking it all away from you," Jimin says. "Taking it all away from you now, with every word, with every flick of my finger, with every blink of your sleepy eyes. One more thought goes each time, until they're all gone, and all that's left is you, nice and quiet and dumb, and happy for it. You don't need to think."

"I don't need to think," Taehyung hears himself say, and feels the fog Jimin describes settle pleasantly over his mind. Jimin is always right, when he talks to Taehyung like this, and lowers him down into this dreamlike, happy haze. Already Taehyung is certain he's stopped thinking, and more sure by each second. It sends a giddy rush of pleasure through him. He smiles with the rightness of it. "I don't need to think."

"That's right," Jimin confirms, condescendingly sweet. "You don't need to think. All you need to do is listen to me. You're safe with me, you can be anything with me. And if I say that what you are is mine, and empty headed, and a sleepy, stupid doll, then that's what you are, isn't that correct?"

"Yes," Taehyung's sigh flutters out. "I'm—yours," he says, and feels weak with it, thoughts gloriously stilled. Happy tears sting at his eyes. "I don't need to think. Not when I'm yours."

"Mm. It's only natural to feel that way, precious," Jimin croons. "When I make all the decisions for you. How could you feel anything but stupid, babbling on your knees like this? Drooling like this?"

Oh. Taehyung's on his knees, and he's drooling. He'd forgotten he was on his knees, but it makes sense that he's looking up at Jimin. And he hadn't noticed he was drooling, but that makes sense, too, because everything Jimin says makes sense. Much more than he could hope to understand, thoughts sticky as molasses like this, and a warmth stirring in his belly to think of himself as dumb, and a doll, and all Jimin's to play with.

Jimin proves it, too, reaching out with the hand that isn't swirling a finger in a lovely pattern. Taehyung's jaw is hanging slack as he watches Jimin's hand devotedly, and he hasn't been told to swallow so he just hasn't even considered it, so when Jimin swipes a thumb under Taehyung's lip and it comes away with a string of spit, he feels the wetness of his chin.

Taehyung thinks Jimin might be smiling, but he can't tear his eyes away from his finger.

"I have so much fun planned for us today, darling," Jimin whispers. "And thoughts aren't necessary for any of them. They're only distractions from my commands, from me. I know you'll be good for me, so stop thinking."

Jimin snaps his finger, and Taehyung obeys.

Chapter Text

Taehyung’s knees ache almost as much as his jaw. 

The gag helps, somewhat, if only in that he doesn’t have to work to keep his mouth open. The ring of it between his teeth does that for him, like the clothespin clamped and stinging on his tongue keeps it hanging out for spit to pool and drip freely.

He doesn’t have the same luxury with his body. Because his knees ache almost as much as his jaw, the way he’s got to keep sitting still and pretty and postured with his hands locked and laced behind his head. It leaves his chest open and exposed, and vulnerable, and cool from the air buffeting the drying drool dripped all down his chest and stomach and aching cock.

“Thought you said you were on the edge,” Jimin murmurs. His circle around Taehyung is slow, and predatory. His nails trace the back of Taehyung’s neck like a threat. “Thought you said anything could make you come. Did you lie?”

“Nuh uh,” Taehyung tries to deny as best he can. It’s as difficult as his given task, with his jaw split open by metal and his tongue stuck out. His voice comes out as wet and warbled and dumb as he feels. The slight shake of his head sends another string of spit disconnecting from his chin and dropped low onto his belly.

“Maybe you just need some help,” Jimin says, more of a croon than anything. It’s his voice when he knows he’s won, because Taehyung had cried that he couldn’t be edged anymore, that a single stroke more, that anything would make him come. So Jimin had set him up kneeling  and aching and drooling on himself, with the brightest of smiles, that this should be enough, then?

It’s not, it’s not even close, but there’s something so erotic about—Jimin watching him, and testing him, and knowing that it’s hopeless. That Taehyung is weak and wet and drooling on his stomach and cock for nothing more than Jimin’s amusement.

Jimin spits often in his mouth, a quick and harsh and degrading thing. But right now he leans just enough to let spit pool from his own mouth, so much and so slow that Taehyung trembles in wait, and moans when it hits and pools on his tongue and drips, drips over himself.

“Thank you,” he tries to moan as coherently as he can. Which is not at all with his tongue stuck out stupidly, and Jimin knows, and grins at it, and ruffles an affectionate hand in Taehyung’s hair.

Chapter Text

jimin’s readying for a shoot when his phone rings, and excuses himself when he sees the contact name above the number. it’s discreet, and fitting, he thinks: the dog and the cupid’s heart emojis.

when he’s gotten himself away and into a private room, he unlocks the phone with a click. never quite bothers with a greeting, because the sound of the call connecting is always confirmation enough, a shuddering sigh making its way into jimin’s ear.

“jiminie?” taehyung asks, breath picking up when jimin hums.

“yes,” jimin says, saccharine sweet. “pet?”

(it began last year, a few months after they'd begun incorporating hypnosis into their play. taehyung asking, almost pleading, to be taken deep, farther than ever before, for longer and longer. one of his darkest fantasies, afraid to bring up even to jimin for a while; to play as a kept pet, mind broken and blank. humiliated and hiding his face until jimin had reassured him he wasn't strange, and would do what he could to help.

there'd been months more of research, negotiations. of consults with experts in the community, of a carefully written contract. of practicing play and testing their trust, longer drawn out sessions.

then beginning the personalized regimen they'd designed with help: operant conditioning. orgasm denial. a list of tasks to perform each day. less clothes allowed at home, a permanent collar engraved PET . taehyung likes the jingle of it on his neck when he bends to drink from the water dish in the kitchen, or eat from jimin's hand where he sits at his master's feet under the table.

finally they're at the culmination of that contract, taehyung approaching the mindless bliss he'd craved and been promised with complete surrender. two weeks ago, taehyung's request for six months off work had been approved, and the planned date to put him under—near-constantly, only a day a week off and awake to spend with jimin—is fast approaching with the first of the month.)

"s'like you said," taehyung manages, voice slow and into the receiver. "even— 'n i know it's a rest day, i'm— i feel— it's all slipping."

even in these late stages of the intense training, taehyung has today off. the fact he's managed to lower himself halfway into a trance all his own is an excellent sign of how well they've progressed.

"baby wants to drop?" jimin asks with understanding, making his voice soft. letting it fall into the pattern taehyung's mind recognizes, even if not consciously. the happy, half-stuttered sigh he hears through the phone confirms it.

"i'm—baby wants to drop," taehyung repeats back, words taking on a slurred yet peaceful quality. jimin imagines his tongue hanging loose, always so pretty and dumb when he goes under; eyes glassy, cherished and euphoric and safe.

from the sound of it, he's already worked himself down. he only thinks he needs more from jimin to drop into trance because to his mind, it's jimin that's provided this state for him, held his hand as he was dragged down into his own dazed mind.

it's a common misconception. that control is taken, absolute. in reality the subconscious commands itself, will only walk down paths it likes. and it likes to take that leap, likes to run free of the so-burdensome conscious mind. the one that never shuts up, full of the stresses of life and constant, bothersome thought. so hollywood's full of exaggerated tropes, when is it not?, but the truth is the mind only falls because it wants to. taehyung is falling now because he wants to, and the hypnotist—jimin—well, he's just showing his mind the way.

jimin's done countless hours of reading and research to take taehyung where he'd wanted to go, and what's agreed is that it's impossible to make someone do anything they truly refuse to do. suggestible, yes—a slave, no. still, the first trigger jimin had ever made sure to set, so long ago now, is that no matter how far down he takes him, if taehyung—however long and deep he's buried in his mind—is truly uncomfortable with something, his mouth will fall open with a safe word just like that. so far he hasn't used it once. taehyung himself tells jimin, both under and awake, how much he enjoys the state, being led down so deep into his own eden.

"then sleep," jimin whispers, and doesn't need to see taehyung to know he's out like a light.

confirmation is a long, choked half-moan through the receiver. jimin can picture it easily; taehyung’s shoulders slumped, chin dropped to his chest. jaw just parted and eyes beautifully glazed.

“have you touched yourself today, darling?” jimin asks, running a hand across the fabrics in the wardrobe, rolls cloth between two fingers musingly.

“no,” taehyung replies, voice slow and deep. the former breathiness is muted, desperation reined in by the depth of trance. “didn’t have permission.”

“good boy,” jimin praises low, and imagines taehyung’s shiver by the soft whine. it’s one of his favorite triggers they’ve installed—taehyung’s idea, actually—that any of jimin’s praise sends a flood of pleasure through him. confirmation he’s done well, sends him spiraling deeper, a pavlovian reinforcement of obedience. “baby wants to, i’m sure.”

“hhyes,” that one’s slurred despite it all. “yes, sir.”

idly jimin taps at his phone, opening the security feed of their apartment. the cameras they’d installed in each room, once they’d decided on the six months of mental chains. taehyung has a list of chores to complete each day, on glorious, obedient autopilot, another trigger enforced that obeying an order gives him pleasure—along with a confession to jimin how turned on he’d been by the idea of jimin able to watch him any time he liked from work.

“wanted to touch so bad you worked yourself down, huh?” jimin murmurs. it’s more to himself than taehyung, but there’s a soft keen of confirmation on the other line anyway. jimin taps through the feeds and finds taehyung in their living room, kneeling with phone held to his ear, staring blankly into nothing. jimin smiles despite himself.

“how deep are you right now, baby?” jimin asks. another system they’ve established, a one through ten communication. a pause before taehyung replies, mentally counting up from one til his mind stops him at, “seven.”

“okay, baby,” jimin says sweetly. “you did so well, calling me when you’re all sweet and dropped. but it’s your free day, so i’m gonna count you back up, m’kay?”

“okay,” taehyung echoes, sigh soft.

“seven,” jimin says, watching taehyung’s head tip back on the feed. “six. you’re going to do something for me when you wake up, doll.”

“anything,” taehyung says, shuddering visibly. “for you, sir.”

“of course, angel. five. i’ll be home soon,” jimin promises, switching tabs to type out a quick message to his secretary that something came up and he’ll be out the rest of the day. “four. head getting clearer now, waking up for me. feel so good.”

“so good,” taehyung is nodding when jimin switches back to their feed, arm wrapped around himself. “miss you. want you.”

“soon. face the main camera for me, baby.” jimin switches feeds as taehyung obeys, shuffling in a turn. “good boy,” a reward, and to see taehyung’s blissed expression with the praise. “three. becoming aware, thoughts returning. baby wanted to touch?”

“mhm, wanted it,” taehyung confirms, nodding at the camera, eyes fixed devotionally and clearer now.

“you may touch yourself,” jimin whispers, and smiles to see taehyung’s jaw slacken, hands immediately running down over his chest. “two. you’re going to edge that pretty cock until i’m home, absolutely no coming. understand?”

“i understand,” taehyung moans out, spitting in his hand and moving to palm himself. “m’can’t—come without permission anymore.”

“that’s right,” jimin smiles fondly. “i took that away from you, didn’t i? and now you’re gonna put on a show for me. one.”

“jimin,” taehyung pants, head tossing back. his hand’s already slowing, hips rolling against his palm as he edges closer. needy, obedient, all jimin’s.

“wake up.” jimin tells him, watching taehyung’s eyes flutter open and refocus on the camera. “hey, sweetheart.”

“minnie,” taehyung sighs, smile radiant into the camera. “was i good?”

“the best,” jimin promises, smiling back endearingly even though taehyung can’t see it. fondness bursts in his chest. “i’ll be home soon, okay? gonna play with my good boy, talk a bit about your trance.”

“okay,” taehyung exhales, excitement shivering through him visibly. “i’m good. your good boy. jimin?” when jimin hums in response, taehyung continues, “can you—stay on the phone? wanna—” he bites his lip, then licks over them looking into the camera.

jimin may hold the reins taehyung has given him to his mind, but taehyung knows just as well, if not hypnotically, how to wrap jimin around his fingers too.

“want you to hear me while i edge for you,” he breathes. “all the way home. will you listen to me?”

and jimin muffles a groan, agreement passing quickly from his lips.

Chapter Text

🥂🍾🎊

It begins with a taunt.

A few weeks in, his inclusion into the relationship is novel, still feels fresh—enough that Jungkook, regrettably, has yet to get his mouth on Taehyung, at least in the way he wants.

Not for lack of trying, in his impassioned defense. But this—thing—whatever it could be called—is new enough that they’re still yanking each other aside wherever and whenever they can get away with it, hot-blooded for the quick and easy. It serves itself up as a thrill, one that demands they rush to feel the rush, stumbling into whatever closet or corner or bathroom stall will have them and fumbling to undress for sloppy stolen moments. It’s exciting—Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever liked anyone so much, let alone two people at once—but it’s a newer dynamic, one that has yet to evolve into the kind of care with which Jungkook would like to take or be taken apart.

It’s with that well in mind that Jimin taunts him. Almost openly, were anyone at the party listening a little closer. 

They’re off to the side of it all, no one paying much attention. Cozied together on a sofa that might be older than Jungkook himself, the kind with cushions that sink in the center and force its occupants to awkwardly fall into one another. Any eyes that wander to them might move on after a few disinterested seconds; they’re clearly close, comfortable with the contact. Their shoulders pressed, Taehyung in the center, far enough away from the rest of the party that no one looks closely enough to see the way his nails are dug into his thighs.

“I mean, he’s just so fuckin’ big, Jungkook ah,” Jimin is sighing secretively between them. Taehyung practically glows with the flush he’s had for a half-hour, blood and liquor and lust. “Like, stupid big. Can barely get your mouth around it.”

His hands gesture an exaggerated approximation. When they drop, one lands on Taehyung’s leg, slipping far enough down on his inner thigh that Taehyung could trap his hand were he to squeeze his legs together. 

He looks like he’d like to, if it wouldn’t draw more attention to them. They like to think they’re getting better at hiding things like this, though Jungkook would argue they’ve always been shit at it, even before two turned into three. It’s a kind of art, curling close enough to be suspicious but moving slowly enough to avoid drawing further attention. The sort of playbook Jimin’s subterfuge falls under, talking with his hands enough that no one notices now that one has fallen to stroke Taehyung’s inner thigh with lazy intent.

When they’d picked him up, Jungkook had teased him, calling the uncharacteristic shorts a choice in the dead of winter. He’s starting to think it may have been more of a choice than he’d realized. Taehyung’s thighs look like heaven, his legs spread just-so apart.

“I mean, I had to get used to it, y’know?” Jimin keeps going, chatting as casually as though he’s talking about a new workout routine and not sucking his boyfriend’s dick. He’s got a filthy mouth, appalling if he’s allowed to really get into it, and it’s always delivered in the softest, sweetest lilt, angelic enough to make Jungkook’s head spin.

“Jimin,” Taehyung mutters a strangled warning. His face is relaxed and open and easy—it’s a party, after all—but his voice is strained, belying tension. A few seconds later someone passes, wandering eyes wandering by and down the hall. Jungkook is reminded that they’re no more than a few feet from most of their friends, the music and conversation of the few-dozen mingling bodies only just loud enough to cover them.

Jungkook knows Jimin too well to think almost being caught might deter him. If anything he’s twice as excited once the person passes, though Jungkook can’t deny a heat itching under his own skin at the idea of being noticed. Jimin leans further in, a glint in his eyes.

“Honestly! First time he dropped his pants I almost didn’t know what to do,” he exaggerates a low whine, hand inching closer up Taehyung’s thigh with each word. “S’too hot, really, too much. He makes you work for it, right, you think there’s no way that’s gonna fit but you want it so damn bad you try too hard and choke yourself on it—”

 “Jimin,” Taehyung groans, face getting redder. Jimin’s fingers brush too far up, under the hem of his shorts, and Taehyung clamps a steeled grip of a hand on Jimin’s wrist in warning.

“Let me play,” Jimin says, halfway between a pout and an order. 

His free hand pinches Taehyung’s forearm, and Jungkook watches Taehyung hiss out a breath between gritted teeth, fighting back the pain as long as he can—a valiant thirty seconds before his face twists in a grimace and he snatches his hand back, freeing Jimin’s. A muffled curse slips out under his breath as he rubs at the reddened skin. 

“Thank you,” Jimin says primly, patting Taehyung’s thigh like a particularly obedient dog’s head. “Now, where was I?”

“I have seen it, you know,” Jungkook mumbles, feeling dizzy. And, somehow, defensive. “His dick, I mean.”

“Haven’t had it in your mouth yet, though,” Jimin shrugs. And then his eyes fix right onto Jungkook’s, predator locking onto prey, all too knowing when he smiles and says, “Just not up to the challenge, I guess.”

Jungkook’s ears feel hot. “Would have had him in my mouth the first time we hooked up, asshole, if you’d have been able to stop slobbering over it for even a minute—”

“Please don’t fight over my dick,” Taehyung sounds pained. “Somehow it’s even worse than whatever you were doing before.”

Pressed on either side of him, a metaphorical angel and devil slumping ungracefully into his shoulders—and Jungkook has zero reservations casting Jimin as the latter in this moment—they both glance down between them. Taehyung squirms under their gaze, the bulge at his crotch getting a little too obvious the longer it goes on. Embarrassingly, Jungkook’s mouth almost waters.

Jimin’s on a similar wavelength. “God, you’re so hot it’s unfair,” he groans, shoving at Taehyung’s chest in a poorly-disguised attempt to feel him up. Jungkook eyes the not-so-subtle groping of Taehyung’s chest, but privately he agrees with the sentiment: it should be impossible for someone to look this good in an oversized fuzzy sweater and cargo shorts, thick-rimmed glasses framed by soft dark curls and that damn near perfect face. The sweater only makes matters worse when Jungkook rereads it, a bold all-caps declaration, I CONCEIVE ON NEW YEAR’S EVE!

In fairness, Jimin’s choice of top might be even worse. Jungkook really can’t decide. I ❤️ COCKtails is emblazoned across his chest, the last bit of the word half the size of the rest of the text. The heart flakes glitter off with his every move, and when Jungkook imagines someone following a trail of red sequins like breadcrumbs to wherever they end up sneaking off to tonight, he can’t bite back a snort.

“What’s so funny, huh,” Jimin huffs. “You’re the one that’s drooling.”

Jungkook has to resist the impulse to check. He knows he’s not, but he also knows he might as well be, with how clearly he’s indicated his interest. “I’m just starting to think you two planned this.”

“What? Never,” Jimin bats his eyelashes, fingers slipping that much further up under the hem of Taehyung’s shorts. Taehyung is doing an impressive job of ignoring it, but the glance down gives him away. Jungkook would hand him a pillow for his lap if it wouldn’t just call more attention to them.

“People are gonna see,” Jungkook breathes the warning, but he can’t even fool himself into pretending he cares. Clearly it’s not believable to his boyfriends, either; Taehyung gives a resigned half-shrug, Jimin’s eyes light up at the prospect.

“What are they gonna see, Jungkook?” Jimin asks, almost innocent, if Jungkook didn’t know any better. “S’not like you’re on your knees in front of the couch. We’re just talking.”

“Talking,” Taehyung repeats dubiously.

Jungkook barely hears him. He’s already thinking about it, imagination miles ahead, picturing himself dropping to his knees in front of the sofa and getting Taehyung in his mouth to give him what he deserves with less than half a thought left for the rest of the party’s reaction. 

He thinks Jimin might be able to tell, judging from his smirk as he eyes the flush creeping up Jungkook’s neck, but two can play at that game.

“Bet you’d love to see me there,” Jungkook taunts right back, his voice hoarse. He licks over his lips, watches both his boyfriends’ eyes fall to the motion, the tug of two lip rings and his gaze lidding to fix down with lust. “You’ve thought about it, right? It’s why you’re so desperate to see it now.”

“Who could blame me?” Jimin complains, loudly enough they get a glance over from the nearest group. He ignores them shamelessly, only lowering his voice to add, “Fuck, we should have sat at the table. Bet you could crawl right under that shitty party tablecloth and no one would notice.”

“No one would notice, right by the kitchen?” Taehyung tries to scoff, but he sounds affected too, low voice breathy and pitching into a higher tremble with arousal.

“Maybe they would, then,” Jimin isn’t deterred. He bites his lip in a smile, a schoolboy swapping secrets, or a playground challenge: “Fuck it, that’s hotter. Would love for someone to come ask us where you went, Jungkook. Bet you wouldn’t even skip a beat, you’d be so eager. Picture that, huh? Sitting nice and quiet and hidden away, under the table between his legs… drooling on his cock, listening to our excuses... Would only be a little white lie when we said we hadn’t seen you in a bit.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook can’t keep it from slipping out under his breath. Taehyung looks like he agrees, caught in the crossfire and starting to squirm more and more under Jimin’s prying hand.

“Don’t think I’d let you try to speed up and get off easy, either, nuh uh,” Jimin shakes his head. A minute ago, Jungkook would have called it impossible for Jimin’s expression to get any more smug, and yet Jimin’s smirk intensifies before his eyes. “I think you’d look too pretty on your knees to let you do anything else for a good long while. Warming his cock ‘til you’ve got a lapful of spit, listening to us talk and kiss and tease about our plans for the night like you aren’t there.”

Jungkook does imagine it. The weight on his knees, the ache in his jaw, cock hanging heavy and throbbing for touch between his legs. He shudders despite himself.

“I’d have to get mean, just ‘cause you like it so much,” Jimin’s sigh is singsong, playing at a resignation he clearly doesn’t feel. “Scold you for teasing him, like it’s not exactly what I told you to do. Push your head down on him, tell you to be nice and suck it properly—he’s been good, why don’t you think he deserves to feel good?”

Jimin drops his voice to a whisper when someone passes by a little too close. He’s no longer bothering to stop or change topics when it happens, and one of them should probably remind him they don’t actually want any of their friends to be subjected to their antics any more than they already have been, but both Jungkook and Taehyung are fixed on his words. 

“Could I,” Jungkook swallows, and amends. “Would you let me touch myself?”

“Jesus,” Taehyung mutters. If his voice gets any more strained, Jungkook is going to worry about his vocal cords. Or blood pressure. If Jungkook looks at Taehyung’s lap again, he isn’t confident he’ll have the self control not to drop to his knees right here, right now, in front of the entire room.

Jimin’s lazy smile turns catlike. “Hm. Maybe,” he pretends to consider, tapping his chin thoughtfully. His other hand remains on Taehyung’s thigh, fingers soothing tantalizing circles just under the hem of those damn shorts. “Not at first. You’d know what you were there for, right?”

More than anything, Jungkook wants him to continue, wants to keep hearing the spell those sinful lips so easily weave around the three of them. He’s been a part of whatever this is now, though, and known Jimin for longer, to understand—this, too, is a game. Dangling a prize over him, making him earn it; in the subtlest way possible, Jimin wants him to beg.

Jimin, he’s learned, likes to make him work for it. Luckily, Jungkook enjoys a good challenge even more than he enjoys giving head.

“Of course,” he manages, marveling that his voice comes out as cleanly as it does. There’s just a subtle shake to it, only made audible by dropping it so low. Almost competitive, “To make Taehyung feel good.”

Taehyung makes a low noise, more of a keen than anything. Jimin ignores the plea, eyes glittering.

“Good,” he all but purrs. “You know you wouldn’t be under there for yourself. But… I’d consider letting you touch yourself. Maybe when you’re desperate enough. When you’re wound up so tight that a few words could tip you over the edge, I’d step on your cock to check if you’re hard enough to earn it. Let you try to grind up into the pressure, hump my shoe if you wanna be touched so bad.”

Jungkook’s head spins to imagine it, heat surging downwards. The seat of his pants is suddenly tighter. 

Taehyung distracts, his nails leaving imprints in his bared thighs. “I’m,” he tries through gritted teeth. “Can we go?”

“Have some patience,” Jimin has the audacity to pout at him, and then double-takes. “And try to look a little less fucked up. If you can. People are gonna look over when we get up.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Taehyung hisses, glaring down at his lap.

Still lightheaded, Jungkook recovers enough to roll his eyes. His voice betrays his daze. “They’re gonna know no matter what. Grown men don’t go to the bathroom together.”

“We do,” Taehyung tears his eyes away from his crotch with a hurt frown.

“Yeah, to hook up,” Jungkook snorts and gestures to the wider room with a hopefully not-too-noticeable tremble in his fingers. “You don’t think they’ve figured it out?”

“The effort makes the difference,” Jimin defends. “We try to be discreet.”

Jungkook squints. “I’m not sure you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Can we please,” Taehyung buries his face in his hands, voice coming out muffled through the exasperated massage. Heavy with implication: “Talk about this somewhere else?”

“I’d love to, darling, but I don’t think Jungkook will be doing much talking once we get you alone.”

“I hate you,” Jungkook doesn’t bother to deny it. Like every time before, he gives in, “How are we doing this?”

Jimin thinks. “Pace it out. You go first.”

“What, and you follow? Even though I never come back?”

“Exactly,” Jimin has the audacity to reach over and boop his nose. Jungkook bats it away, trying to look annoyed, but his heart is pounding in his chest and he knows it’s showing on his face. “In fact, I like that best. Waiting on your knees, ready to get used.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans again. “Just pick a place before I finish right here.”

“Fine,” Jungkook surrenders, unwilling to wait any longer, especially not armed with those two images. He speaks quickly, voice dropping even lower. “Where do I go?”

“Upstairs bathroom, second door on the left,” Jimin answers promptly. He’d ‘gone to the bathroom’ soon after they’d first arrived, his usual scouting tactic. “The downstairs one is getting all the traffic, almost no one’s gone up the stairway. I’ve been watching.”

“Of course you have,” Jungkook tries to snark, but its bite is absent when he’s this eager. He stands, but before he can move much farther, Jimin catches him with a hand grabbing the hem of his shirt. 

When Jungkook sees Jimin’s smirk, he considers ignoring him and brushing past, but just over a month into this relationship he has yet to learn his lesson. He’s not sure he ever will. He leans down.

“We’ll knock five times,” Jimin murmurs. Okay, so, useful info for once, not just a last comment to fuck with him—Jungkook feels guilty he considered ignoring Jimin. Until Jimin adds, always so sweet, “Remember how we want to find you. I presume we’ll be able to follow the trail of drool.”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook sighs, and straightens before he can hear Jimin’s answer to that. He’s pretty sure he knows what it would be, anyway.

🥂🍾🎊

The bathroom is right where Jimin said it would be. It’s nice, nicer than their last indiscretion like this. Clean, at least, and spacious enough to allow for limited movement. Probably one of the things Jimin had looked for. It’s a bonus, and they’re not always so lucky. Yesterday had been a closet with barely enough room to turn around, and in their desperate attempt to slot together Jungkook had tripped over a shoe and thudded into the wall. They’d stumbled out of the closet and back into the thick of Taehyung’s own birthday party with averted eyes and swollen lips, Jungkook’s more due to his face smacking into drywall than the action he’d attempted to get in on. (Though, in his boyfriends’ defense, they’d more than made up for it later.)

Once inside the bathroom Jungkook locks the door behind him, and rummages through cupboards until he finds a stack of folded towels. He throws down two for his knees, and kneels with a huff. He keeps his hands loose at his sides—he considers touching himself but thinks better of it when he remembers Jimin’s taunts, closing his eyes and letting his imagination do the work.

There’s not much left to the imagination at this point between them, aside from this, and his mind conjures up such a picture-perfect rendering of Taehyung’s body—one part in particular—that the vision is more than enough to keep the fire stoked.

He doesn’t count the minutes, but he knows he only waits a few. He expected no more than ten, and it’s definitely nowhere near that much later that five deliberate knocks sound on the door. Jungkook leans over to flip the lock and settles back on his heels.

“I think I bought us fifteen minutes,” Jimin says, words tumbling out in a rush as he and Taehyung crowd into the bathroom and close the door behind. “Hope you’re up to the challenge.”

The lock re-clicks. Jungkook notes two things. The first: the bathroom he’d noted as spacious is suddenly much smaller with three bodies crammed into it. Second: Jimin has learned how to work him up all-too-well. The idea of a challenge does something wicked to the heat simmering under his skin. He might actually be drooling, and if he isn’t already he’s certain it’s only a matter of a few minutes more.

Fifteen minutes. It’s not quite the first time he’s pictured, the slow tease and build he’d like to give his boyfriend, but it does make things interesting, in a way he should probably feel some sort of guilt for. All he can feel, though, is a heady excitement buzzing in his chest, a drunken dizziness he can see echoed in his boyfriends’ eyes. Particularly Taehyung’s, who looks one strong breeze away from finishing the game early.

“I won’t need it,” Jungkook says confidently, setting his chin in a defiant challenge of his own. “That’s more than enough time for me.”

Jimin looks satisfied with the cocksure assurance. Even moreso when Jungkook grabs Taehyung’s hip and tugs him closer. “Get to it, then.”

“As soon as you get these damn shorts out of my way,” Jungkook mutters, shaking hands fumbling the zipper. “C’mon. I wanna see it.”

“You’ve seen it a dozen times,” Taehyung mutters, rocking his hips forward impatiently.

Jungkook isn’t listening. He’s staring at Taehyung’s cock, sprung free, thick and hard and waiting for him. Without anything else in the way. No underwear. Jungkook battles through the static filling his brain to haltingly manage: “Fucking knew you two planned this.”

“It was going to happen either way,” Taehyung retorts. “You know us, I’m just saving laundry—oh fuck—”

Aware of the ticking clock, and quite frankly unable to resist any longer, Jungkook wastes no further time wrapping his mouth around the head of Taehyung’s cock and spiking his tongue into the slit. Taehyung hisses through his teeth, one of his hands flying up to grip into Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook appreciates the sting at his scalp. He can feel the weight of Jimin’s gaze on him, but Jungkook ignores it to focus on his goal. He flicks his eyes up to Taehyung in the way he knows looks good, wide and pretty and fixed upwards in worship. Taehyung meets his gaze with blown pupils, a heat flushed in his cheeks.

“You look so pretty for us, hyung,” Jungkook rasps when he slides off with a pop, hand dancing up to fist Taehyung’s cock in his absence.

“Thanks,” Taehyung sounds dazed. His hand is gentle in Jungkook’s hair, but it trembles like he wants more, wants to grab Jungkook and force him back down. Jungkook wants it too, and he makes sure to catch Taehyung’s eyes when he sticks his tongue out and takes his boyfriend back into his mouth, making a show of rolling back his eyes and moaning low in pleasure. Taehyung’s hand spasms in his hair, hips stuttering. “I—ah, shit—”

“Give him a moment to get used to it, baby,” Jimin teases, slinging an arm over Taehyung’s shoulders and smacking a sloppy kiss to his cheek. 

Jungkook hollows his cheeks, eyes closing, savoring the heavy weight and warmth and taste heady on his tongue. He bobs his head with pursed lips, knowing his lip rings can be felt with each tantalizing drag on skin. He only blinks open his eyes again when he lets Taehyung’s cock slip free to mouth down its length instead, nuzzling close and offering into skin, “Don’t bother,” his voice thick to his own ears. “S’like you said, Jimin. You wanna choke yourself on it.”

Taehyung muffles a curse into his fist. Jimin’s eyes alight, and he purrs, “Do it, then. Is that the best you can manage? C’mon, get it down. I thought you wanted to make him feel good.”

That competitive edge sharpens. Jungkook narrows his eyes and doubles his efforts, tongue laving along the underside as he works to take more and more of Taehyung’s dick into his mouth. And Jimin may be a lot of things, a goddamn siren foremost among them, but he wasn’t a liar—Jungkook can feel the pleasant stretch at the corners of his mouth, his jaw already beginning to ache with effort. 

The struggle only makes it sweeter. He’s nothing if not persistent, pushing himself down further, inch by inch. Tears sting at his eyes, and through fluttering lashes he looks up to watch them watching him. Arm still slung over Taehyung’s shoulders, Jimin rests his head against Taehyung’s and looks down, eyes dark with barely concealed interest. In contrast Taehyung’s are glassy with arousal, and Jungkook’s pride swells to be watched so intently by them both. 

He fuels himself imagining the moment Taehyung loses the last of his control. He ignores all strain, more desperate to feel Taehyung fill his mouth than he is to draw breath—and he’s rewarded for his effort with the sharp gasp that rips from his boyfriend’s lips when Jungkook succeeds, closing watery eyes to feel Taehyung’s cock pulse at the back of his throat.

For a moment he stays there, savoring the feeling as long as possible. He can feel his chin wet, spit slicking his lips and filling his mouth, every inch heavy on his tongue. Jungkook grunts around the length, satisfaction flooding his veins to push past limits and prove himself and rise to a challenge and finally, finally feel Taehyung’s cock twitch on his tongue like he’s dreamed of.

The tip of his nose just barely brushes Taehyung’s abdomen, and then Jungkook pulls off with a small pop of suction, wet smearing under his eyes and a watery cough spasming in his throat. “Fuck,” he sucks in a gasp, keeping one hand gripped around the base. Taehyung’s hips rock forward to fuck it, spit slicked along his length and stuttering out a wordless demand for more. Jimin claps a hand over Taehyung’s mouth before it can get too loud.

“That’s better,” Jimin plays at the same bait he’s dangled, but there’s too much hunger and pride glittering in his eyes for Jungkook to feel anything but victory. “Thought you’d never get it down.”

“Looks like I’m doing just fine,” Jungkook rasps. He jerks his chin up in a nod to Taehyung, who doesn’t look like he’ll last much longer. Jungkook keeps his fist curled loose around Taehyung’s cock, pleasure thrumming through him. “You jealous I’m not giving you the same attention, or jealous you’re not in my place?”

“What did I say,” Taehyung manages a strangled moan, muffled behind Jimin’s hand. “About fighting over my dick.”

“Oh, but darling, it’s so worth fighting for,” Jimin whispers. And then his free hand fists in Jungkook’s hair, opposite Taehyung’s own grip and twice as rough. “Too bad we gotta be quick, hm? Dick this nice deserves some time taken. Don’t you think so, Jungkook?”

Jungkook hisses as Jimin uses the grip in his hair to make him nod, but he’d be lying if he said the force was unwelcome. There’s a strain at the seat of his own pants, and there’s an intense allure to the way Jimin’s breathing has grown almost as ragged as Taehyung’s, his gaze dark with desire. Jungkook knows he’s pushing Jimin to the edge too, albeit indirectly, and can only begin to dream of the reward he’ll be able to demand later.

Unsure how long it’s been or how long they have left—and his boyfriends seem even less concerned with time—Jungkook leans back to lick up the length. Before he can lower himself back down, though, he’s stopped by the hand in his hair, stinging at his scalp, and glares up with a reproachful grunt.

It’s not him being teased this time, though. Jimin’s gaze has shifted to Taehyung, eager and calculating at once to watch the way Taehyung whines in protest, his hips circling forward. “C’mon, please, what the hell, please—”

“Just wanted to hear you ask nicely. It’s important to remember your manners,” Jimin says sweetly. He yanks back Jungkook’s head, loosening his other arm from Taehyung’s shoulder to hook a thumb in the side of Jungkook’s mouth instead and lean down. “Tongue out.”

Jungkook lolls it out in a second, keeping his eyes fixed up obediently. If he’s not mistaken, Taehyung’s own jaw slackens automatically, lips parting as if to obey too, but Jungkook misses the moment when his eyes roll back to feel Jimin spit on his tongue. Arousal burns thicker. He barely has time to process it before he’s shoved back down on Taehyung’s cock, all the way down, too-deep too-fast and his throat spasming in protest. The tip pokes back too far, and Jungkook’s chest seizes, valiantly swallowing back a gag. Even that is worth it to see the way Taehyung reacts, to both the wet warmth of Jungkook’s mouth and the pressure wrapping right where it feels best. 

“This is okay, right?” Jimin asks, too casually. He gives Jungkook’s head a shake, pressing him down further until his nose is no longer brushing but pressed into the soft give of Taehyung’s stomach, nearly retching. Heat pools at the base of his spine and pulses through his cock, and Jungkook wonders, absently, if he might come from this if given enough time. “Does it hurt like I promised?”

Jungkook’s chest convulses in another strangled attempt for air. This time a string of spit follows him off Taehyung's cock, snapping only when he bends in half to cough. He sniffles once, swallowing too much. Only takes a second to recover before glaring back up with watering eyes, “Doesn’t hurt enough.”

His hoarse challenge elicits a proud hum from Jimin, and another groan from Taehyung. The latter’s hand moves instinctually to finish the job, and Jimin and Jungkook move as one to slap it away. “Fuck off,” Taehyung groans, thrusting his hips forward again. 

“I don’t think you’d be very happy if I did,” Jungkook can’t resist croaking, grinning stupidly up at them. Pride and desire surge in tandem in his chest, and it makes him more snide than usual. “I’d think that’s the last thing you’d want, actually.”

“Finish the fucking job or let me do it—”

And then the doorknob wiggles.

They fall immediately, comically silent. Paralyzed—at least for a few seconds, and then Jimin catches Jungkook’s eye, tipping his head in clear indication. Jungkook’s grin returns.

Taehyung’s eyes shoot open, shaking his head in warning, mouthing something that might be don’t you fucking dare if Jungkook were bothering to read his lips. If Jungkook weren’t already wrapping his lips back around the head of Taehyung’s cock, one curled fist jerking the length lazily and his other palm cupping Taehyung’s balls. Taehyung stuffs a fist into his mouth to muffle his reaction, but silently Jimin pulls his hand away, replacing it with his own fingers. They splay on Taehyung’s tongue, pressing down and back harsh enough to make him drool and fight back a gag of his own. 

Jungkook forgets to listen for footsteps walking away, and once again finds he can’t even pretend to care. A rush flushes through him at Jimin’s next words.

“Do you think you can take him?” Jimin murmurs, its intent clear. His voice has broken into the lower, raspy register Jungkook adores, seductive enough to send a shiver down his spine. Jungkook’s own arousal doubles, swelling in him like a tide. “I wanna watch him use your mouth, baby, wanna watch him fuck your face, can I see?”

The thrill speeds Jungkook’s pulse. “Fuck. Yeah, yes. Please.” 

He lets himself be guided. Jimin’s grip softens from a fist in his hair to a hand on his head, between the back of his skull and the wall, angling Jungkook forward just enough to create more of a straight line down his throat. Taehyung braces his hands on the wall behind Jungkook, steadying himself.

The rock of his hips is easy to take—at first. Taehyung is careful for as long as he can be, but he’d been trapped and teased in between them for almost an hour, and his self control stretches thin in no time at all. His thrusts start to get sloppier, more forceful, a steady rhythm to chase the heat of his mouth that makes Jungkook burn in turn. Taehyung pulls out almost all the way, then thrusts back in to the base, nearly eliciting another gag.

Jungkook squirms and pants under it, until he can’t any longer, drowning in lust and the wet sounds of his mouth getting fucked. He can’t help a little moan slipping free with each thrust, the sound of it getting louder and more obscene each time the pace picks up. Taehyung’s breath comes in ragged gasps as he fucks Jungkook’s face with increasing intensity, movements becoming more urgent, more insistent, and it’s all Jungkook can do to—

“Take it,” Jimin whispers, palming himself with a trembling hand, eyes fixed on the length of Taehyung’s cock pistoning into Jungkook’s mouth. Jungkook struggles to swallow, body starting to buzz but still determined. He thinks, absently, his throat will be sore tomorrow, but right now he couldn’t care less in the face of making his boyfriend feel good, letting Taehyung use his mouth like a fleshlight. He can hear Taehyung's breaths quickening, a pattern Jungkook has learned to hone in on in the last few weeks. “He’s so close, sweetheart, you’re doing so good, love watching you take it, take it for—”

A knock on the door.

Taehyung’s hips stutter to a halt. They wait in silence, Jungkook feeling dizzy to be frozen with cock stuffing his mouth, filling him to a stretch of his lips and an ache in his jaw. Cockwarming, Taehyung’s dick twitching on his tongue, torn from the edge. Dazedly Jungkook laps at the underside, ignoring Taehyung’s muffled gasp and frantic hand wave.

There’s no footsteps leading away. Only another knock, and Jimin elbows Taehyung. It’d be cruel if it didn’t do something so sickly sweet to all three of them, the tension in the cramped bathroom thickening as Taehyung tries to take a shuddered breath, managing, “J-Just—Just a minute.”

The moment of prep did nothing for him. He sounds appropriately wrecked, half his cock still sheathed in Jungkook’s mouth. It’s so fucking over, Jungkook thinks with fond resignation, and a lack of remorse that should probably concern him.

They’re bad influences, his boyfriends. Terrible, really. Because when Jungkook looks up through watering eyes to catch Jimin’s heavy gaze, he reads the same desire there that’s burning in his own blood. Same thoughts, same page, and Jungkook begins to bob his head slowly, lips pursed and cheeks hollowed. Taehyung’s hand flies up to clap over his mouth, a valiant attempt to mask a low whine.

A pause. Then, “Taehyung? Are you okay?” Namjoon’s voice is muffled on the other side of the door. Its tone is a split of endearing concern and deserved suspicion. 

“Go on, tell him,” Jimin breathes into Taehyung’s ear, and strokes an encouraging hand through Jungkook’s hair. The message is clear: don’t stop. 

Jungkook has no plans to. If anything, he speeds his pace, even more determined to coax Taehyung closer, back to the climax he’d been on the precipice of.

“F-Fu—Fine!” Taehyung twists his moan into a cough. “Fine, just—feeling a little s-sick.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says slowly, concern and suspicion still battling evenly. A pause. “Do you… need anything?”

“Yeah, you do,” Jimin breathes again, so little breath exhaled with it that it’s barely audible even to them. This time it’s into Taehyung’s neck, a wet kiss pressed into his pulse. “You need to come, don’t you, baby?” 

His hand on the back of Jungkook’s head shoves down, holding him in place. Jungkook takes it, throat clicking in a messy swallow, spasming around the tip, milking it as he struggles against his body to stay still instead of retching. Taehyung’s hiss is just barely still under his breath, and immediate, “Oh Jesus fucking—”

Jimin pushes Taehyung’s face down into his shoulder to muffle his climax, grimacing at the bite. Jungkook barely sees it in his peripheral vision, much more immediately concerned with Taehyung coming down his throat. Instinct and his numb body finally wins, and he shoves involuntarily at Taehyung’s thigh, freeing his mouth with a gag he can’t mask and a thick swallow. Jimin looks down at him imploringly, his hand scrambling to slap over Jungkook’s lips, but Jungkook just licks at his palm like a child with a teary-eyed shrug. Jimin is undeterred by the attitude, sticking his tongue out at him.

“Tae? Are you okay?” Namjoon asks, concern sounding like it’s winning. At least for a moment. “Are you—oh my god.”

“Mmwhat?” Taehyung slurs into Jimin’s shoulder, hazy with his orgasm.

“You’re fucking—you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Namjoon’s groan is exasperated.

“N-No!” Taehyung insists immediately, in weak defiance. It’s a mistake.

“You didn’t even hear what I was accusing you of! Fuck, are they—you’re all in there, aren’t you?”

Jimin starts snickering, pulling back his hands for his turn trying to cover his own mouth. Jungkook leans forward to muffle his own laughter into Taehyung’s thigh. Taehyung whines, kicking at them both with a frantic whisper, “It’s not funny! Help me!”

“Oh my god, you are! I can hear—the bathroom? Really? Again? You guys are gross!” his yell gets distant with fading footsteps. “Every fucking time! Just—start hanging a sign!”

It’s their cue for the giggles to burst out, no longer muffled. Taehyung’s own deep laugh gasps out even as he tries to look mad, tucking himself back inside the shorts and sinking down to the floor. Jungkook kicks out numb legs from underneath him to collapse into the wall, wiping a wet chin and wheezing with laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Taehyung tries to say again, but he hasn’t stopped grinning.

“It’s a little funny,” Jungkook rasps, hand flopping out exhaustedly to pat Taehyung’s shoulder in sympathy.

Taehyung sighs. “He’s right, you know?”

Jimin drops to sit cross-legged, eyebrow raised. “What, that we’re gross?”

“No—well, a little,” Taehyung considers. “But we should probably consider getting a sign at this point. One of those hotel doorknob hangers. Don’t come knocking, you know?”

“I’ll look into it,” Jimin says. Jungkook can’t tell how serious he is, and decides it’s better not to ask. Jimin shoves Jungkook’s shoulder lightly, perking up to ask, “So! How was it? Five stars?”

Taehyung puts his head in one hand, rubbing his forehead stressedly. “What is this, a Yelp review?”

Jungkook thinks about it. “Good introduction, authentic stakes, pacing was a little fast. I’m gonna need a round two to really give my honest opinion. Maybe a third.”

“I’d say we’ve overstayed our welcome anyway,” Jimin says with zero remorse. “C’mon. Sooner we get home the sooner we can finish this. And by this I mean me.”

He clambers back to his feet with a huff, offering a hand out, first to Taehyung and then the both of them reach down to Jungkook. Jungkook clasps both offered hands and stands with their heave up. He winces at the faint pins-and-needles that haven’t yet dissipated fully, but he can tell with a shake of each leg that he can walk.

He looks up to catch his boyfriends watching him, the combination of concern and desire touching. Jungkook rolls his neck, grimacing at the pop, and leads the way, gracing them each with a fond kiss on the cheek as he passes.

They don’t stumble out, per se, more graceful than last time. And the hallway is empty, coast clear, the sounds of the party muffled and drifting up from downstairs. They almost make it out cleanly, no one looking too close. Until they wave a goodbye to Seokjin by the door, a quickly muttered thanks for hosting—his eyes cut to them suspiciously, scanning them up and down and taking in the truth in an instant.

“Oh, you’re leaving already?” he’d sound concerned, were it not for both eyebrows raised challengingly. “Did something come up? Let me rephrase, did something get up?”

Taehyung half-smiles, half-grimaces. Jungkook snorts. Jimin looks proud. They meet each others’ eyes, and break into another fit of giggles.

“There had better not be a single spot of any kind of evidence whatsoever anywhere in this home, and I do mean anywhere,” Seokjin groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You hear me? If I find anything you’re banned, for good this time. It’s bad enough that we all know, but I don’t need to know.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Jimin calls over his shoulder cheekily, dodging an exasperated kick and blowing a kiss. They all but flee before they can hear the sputtered response, spilling out of the entryway into the night air.

“You know,” Jungkook says, glancing at the time on his phone, and then the lettering on Taehyung’s sweater. “If we get home in the next hour—without scarring the cab driver, I mean—there’s still time for a New Year’s kiss.”

“There’s time for more than that,” Jimin says demurely, making no promises on the taxi front.

“Was hoping you’d say that.”

🥂🍾🎊