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personal-randomness · 4 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 13.7k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: hickies, dom!jimin, dom! hoseok, dom!namjoon, dom!yoongi, voyeurism, exhibitionism, train, sex swing, bondage, sensory play, orgasm denial, orgasm delay, unprotected sex, creampie, onetime use of slut, oral (m receiving), fingering, handjob, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, very brief aftercare bc a bitch passes OUT afterwards

A/N: dawg i am so fucking sorry this was such a longtime coming pls enjoy it >.<

DAY THIRTY TWO

You wake up in discomfort, muscles aching. Unsure entirely why, you lift yourself up off the pillows and attempt to stretch, arms arching over your head and legs stiffening out straight. The pull and release helps a little, but you still don’t feel right when getting up.

Your first thought is of the golden hands down the hall, but Taehyung sleeps like the dead, and you doubt his best work would happen when he was sleep-grouchy.

Instead, you come up with a new solution: yoga. A little birdie (okay, Taehyung, who seems to know everything about everyone in the house) once told you Jimin likes to do it every morning on the back patio before most of you wake up.

At first you dismissed it as a joke. Jimin is often the last person downstairs, and mostly everyone had assumed that meant he was a late sleeper. But you’re desperate, and it’s early, and you’re hoping perhaps there’s some truth to the rumour.

Getting dressed gingerly in some leggings and a thin shirt, you grab your phone and head outside to the second floor hallway, taking care to shut your door quietly. Yoongi, although he could fall asleep quickly, was also quick to wake from any noises, and you figure he probably needs the extra rest.

Tiptoeing on soft carpet, you make your way down the stairs and turn into the kitchen, almost banging headfirst into a solid chest. Slender hands reach out with lightning reflexes to steady you, and you glance up at the man in front of you.

“Look at you, earlybird,” Hoseok remarks cheerily. “What’s got you up before the sun?”

Aware of his ever-smoldering rivalry with Jimin, you shrug. “Thirsty.” To sell your point, you take a fresh water bottle from the fridge and crack it open, taking a swig.

Hoseok quirks a brow at your grimace - water in the mornings always tastes worse somehow - but shrugs it off, approaching you instead.

As he gets close, you instinctively step back to accommodate but he keeps moving forward until your butt is bumping against the counter and his body is barely inches away. “Hoseok,” you breathe, surprised at his behaviour so early in the day.

“You’re mine today,” he decides, eyes flashing dark with intent. A hand comes up, curling around your upper arm just firm enough to anchor his dominance. “It’s been too long since I really played with you, don’t you think?”

The throb between your legs agrees entirely. You swallow. “Yes, Master.”

“Mm, I’ve missed hearing that.” His eyes rake over you, not lustful but more so investigative, like he’s devising a hundred and one ways to make you fall apart for him. It does things to you, and you curse the wobble in your knees as he moves in closer, letting your bodies mold together. “I won’t tell you how I’ll ravish you today, princess, but I will give you one choice in the matter.”

“And what’s that?”

He grins, teeth glinting. “Who do you want to come watch?”

You suck in a breath without intending. Hoseok has always been the master of racketing your anticipation up to new heights, and a large part of you is thrilled to be back under his control again. He’s putting the decision in your hands for whose eyes you want on you as it happens, and you expect no matter what you choose now, he’ll tease you for later.

Considering each person, your answer comes embarrassingly fast. “Everyone.”

Like a vacuum opened, he pulls away from you suddenly, wide smile still adorning his face. “Then I’ll spread the word. Show starts at 7 tonight. Don’t be late, princess; you’re the opening act.”

Hoseok is gone before you can respond, but your tongue feels unresponsive anyway, brain whirring and sputtering. What have you gotten yourself into?

Him being the first to approach means you still don’t have the slightest inkling of what this week’s prompts are. Home, Sweet Home. Surely they weren’t allowed to actually take you home?

Dismissing the thoughts that lead you nowhere, you take your bottle and head outside, caught off-guard by the cool notes in the air. The sun is creeping over the horizon, or what you can see of it between distant Seoulite skyscrapers, and it’s yet to send its rays down to you.

The air fills your lungs and wakes you up even more than Hoseok’s proposition did. Stepping onto the veranda, you search what you can see of the backyard, looking for Jimin.

Your eyes almost skate right over him. He’s literally folded in half, standing with his head by his knees and his arms wrapped around the back of his legs. He’s closer to the pool than you expected, a purple yoga mat protecting his bare feet from the cold concrete.

You approach, cursing yourself that you didn’t think to bring one yourself. You have comfortable sneakers on, but you recall yoga involving more than just standing.

He rolls back up gracefully when you’re just stepping onto the pool veranda. His hair isn’t as perfectly set as it usually is; it seems Taehyung’s idea that he did yoga before getting ready for the day was true. Instead, his locks are slightly rumpled and fluffy from sleep. The blue dye is beginning to loosen its hold and grow out to dark roots, but it just makes him look more domestic and human to you. Cheeks pink, eyes soft brown without contacts in, in your mind he’s never looked better.

But of course, the second he sees you, that’s not what he thinks. His eyes fly wide, mouth a perfect o. “Y/n, what are you doing out here? I’m not even- Stop looking at me like that!”

You tip your head to the side in question even as a fond smile grows. “Like what?”

“Like I’m…” He huffs, unable to put words to it.

You’re more than happy to fill in the blanks. “Like you’re the most gorgeous person in the world? No, I don’t think I will stop.”

Jimin blushes, though he turns away to hide it, busying himself with taking a drink of water. “I haven’t even washed my face yet,” he complains in a small voice.

“That doesn’t change my opinion,” you deflect simply. “If it takes me complimenting you relentlessly for you to see it, I don’t mind.”

He stiffens slightly. “I’m allowed to hate things about myself. It doesn’t just go away, that way of thinking.”

Your heart breaks, wishing you could pull him into a hug, not wanting to overwhelm him. “Then I’ll love them for you.”

“You can’t get this deep with me before the sun’s even up.” Jimin pauses, and you can see the acceptance wash over him in the way his shoulders relax. He turns to you, eyebrows raised with a small, appreciative grin. “My question still stands, by the way. What are you doing out here?”

You allow him to change the subject, happy to see a smile brighten his face. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind a partner? I slept wrong last night, I’m in serious need of stretching and I thought you might be able to help.”

He hums, rolling his shoulders back as he looks you up and down. “You can share my mat,” he decides after a moment, “I don’t want you hurting your knees or getting your clothes dirty.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you chant in gratitude, slipping off your sneakers to step on the supportive material in your socks. Your leggings and top will do the job, but you do feel a little underdressed next to Jimin.

He clearly wasn’t expecting company, so you know his outfit is for function and personal expression. It’s something you don’t see as often as you’d like, as he still mostly falls into the habit of dressing as a statement of power. Here, he’s in leggings too; a cool, slate grey with a darker trim that runs up his outer legs. His white cotton shirt is loose but not oversized, though it’s sleeveless and the arm holes run lower and wider than is necessary. Beneath, you can see sneak peeks of his taut build as he rolls his shoulders back and forth to loosen up again, indicating you should follow.

With a bracing breath, you begin matching his movements, wincing when your spine immediately shifts and clicks noisily. With a raised brow and a smirk of bemusement, Jimin tuts at you. “Breaking your back is meant to be a euphemism, you know. I hope nobody else is responsible for that.”

“Don’t worry, just my terrible posture and sleeping habits,” you fire back lightly, mimicking his movement as he tips his head to the left, using his left hand to weigh it down, and reversing to the opposite side.

“We haven’t even started my usual routine, and you’re popping like a glowstick,” he drawls, “I have every right to worry.”

You huff at him, lifting your brows. “Nothing an expert can’t solve.”

“Mm, I’ll do my best. Alright, let’s just start with child’s pose. Knees on the mat, lean yourself forward, that’s it…” You follow the soothing lilt of his voice as he instructs you to stretch your arms out on the mat directly in front of you, forehead steady on the supportive material. It’s a little basic, and you pause, assuming he’s going to let you sit here for a moment or two before moving on.

But Jimin doesn’t seem to be entirely satisfied. You gasp when you feel a firm hand run up the middle of your back, pressing you down and away. “Walk your fingertips forward,” he instructs, his free hand dipping into your line of vision as he demonstrates on the mat, inching them further and further.

You obey, and instinctively suck in a breath of surprise at the alien feeling. Your whole back feels like it’s stretching out, giving the bones and ligaments room to breathe. Even your shoulders sing in relief at the lift. “Woah, okay.”

The pressure between your shoulder blades remains. “Now stay there. Feel it. You need this.”

He’s right, and as you relax into it, it feels like your body is stretching further, unwinding all the tension you’ve carried in your torso. It feels amazing, but his hands on you make you crave a different kind of release.

Swallowing, you press your forehead intently against the mat and will those thoughts away. “How long do I stay like this for?”

“Ready to move on already? In some of my classes, we’d hold each pose for four minutes, but perhaps that’s too advanced,” Jimin teases. The weight of his palms on you lifts as he straightens up, indicating you should do the same. “Slowly,” he warns, “you don’t want to get dizzy. Alright, where do you still feel sore or tense?”

Pausing to consider this, you roll your shoulders, twist your neck and generally wriggle around, seeking a tough spot. “My back, still, below my shoulders.” Pushing your hands against the small of your back and arching, you sigh as the vertebrae click. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Okay, well, don’t do that,” Jimin scolds gently with a furrowed brow. “I think we can do a supine twist.”

“A what now?”

“A supine twist,” he repeats, lip curling into a jovial smile. “Or, if it’s easier, you could call it a supta matsyendrasana.”

You blink. “Supine twist,” you parrot back in monotone.

“Thought so. Alright, on your back, then. Legs out flat.”

Ignoring his bemused look, you follow the instructions and hum happily when you get to lie down and stretch out. Despite the relative eventfulness of the morning, the position has your eyelids feeling heavy immediately. “This is great, but I think I’m just going to fall asleep. And my back still feels like shit.”

Jimin stands above your head and crouches down, mock-glaring at you with his face upside down to yours. His hair hangs low, almost tickling your nose with how long it’s gotten. “Do you think I’m going to give you all the instructions at once when you’re a novice? Be patient.”

You scowl up at him, trying to act like his proximity isn’t affecting you in a different way. “I’ll you show you novice,” you huff.

“That’s not a particularly hard-hitting threat,” Jimin replies airily, and taps your right shoulder.” Stretch your arm out, 90 degrees to your body. That’s it, now right leg up, bend at the knee, and turn your lower half to rest it on your left side. Keep your head facing the right.”

Mind glitching, you pause, right leg hovering uncertainly in the air. “Uhh-”

With a smug click of his tongue, Jimin reaches out to hook your right knee, and you feel your waist twist around as he pulls it to the left. Your foot touches the ground beside your left hip, and Jimin’s hand slides up to press at your thigh, pushing it down until your knee is flush against the mat. Keeping your gaze to the right as he asked, you feel a peculiar but satisfying stretch in your back, as it twists in the middle.

Your right hand feels a little tingly, and you wiggle your fingers as you marvel at the sensation. “How do people come up with this stuff?” you wonder aloud.

Jimin’s hand hasn’t left your thigh, gently squeezing it every few moments with the natural flex of his fingers. “They know a lot about the body,” he responds easily. “It’s complex but not a complete mystery.”

With your gaze turned to the side, most of your body is out of your line of sight. All you can see is the extension of your right arm, and the point where the poolside concrete turns to grassy backyard. The house rises up, but you’re too distracted to squint and try and spy any movement inside the windows.

Your blindness to the rest of your form only makes it more thrilling when you feel the warmth of Jimin’s hand slowly glide higher up your thigh, until his fingers rest directly over your clothed crotch. In this strange position, a narrow sliver is vulnerable between your legs where they cross, and you can feel the pressure of his fingertips as he rubs you almost too slowly to tell.

You suck in a breath, waiting a few moments to confirm it. Jimin’s silent, gauging your reaction. You feel lightheaded even laying down. “Jimin,” you utter, “I think you’re ruining the sanctity of this spiritual pursuit.”

“Am I?” he questions rhetorically. His index and middle finger press down over your covered clit, making you twitch. “You sound like Jin.”

Blinking, you fight the urge to drop the stretch and spread your legs shamelessly. “Does that make you want to fuck me more or less? Wait, don’t tell me, I might get insulted.”

He chuckles breathily, and your heartbeat jumps when you feel the hot breath on your neck, a lot closer than you thought he was. You can barely see his form shadowing your peripheral. “I don’t have what I need to complete my prompt out here,” he mentions casually, voice rumbly against your ear.

“Huh?” you blurt before your mind catches up. “What does that mean? You wanna move?”

When he moves closer, you feel his lips brushing against your earlobe. “It means I’m doing this just because I want to,” he explains, teeth briefly nipping at the skin, giving it a small tug, “and because I can.”

With that, his grip between your legs turns iron-tight, two fingers pressed over your throbbing core as the rest tighten on the meat of your ass, holding you down as he bends even lower, tongue flat and wide as it runs obscenely up your neck.

You gasp, arching as much as you can, but the twist gives you little movement. The air feels even cooler on your newly-damp throat, but Jimin doesn’t give it much chance to feel the breeze. He closes in on you, taking advantage of the sensitive skin, nipping at sucking at it hard enough to bruise.

While your body remains helpless, your hands flail, right palm slapping against the mat and left one flying up to bury itself in Jimin’s hair.

He’s messy with it, encouraging you to rock as best you can against his fingers while he lights up the left side of your neck with teeth and tongue. You feel a trickle of saliva run around the back of your neck, making your whole body shiver, and the sinful sound of him chuckling against you vibrates the skin.

“Ji- Jimin, please, I-” The dull pressure against your core isn’t enough, but it’s still so good that you can’t keep still, whining for more.

His kisses move higher, cresting your jaw and chin, free hand slipping under to lift your head up to face him. His eyes are blown with arousal, lips swollen and pink. You must not look much better yourself, because he curses and slips his thumb between your lips, encouraging you to suck.

“Other side,” he rasps out, eyelids fluttering when you tighten your lips around his thumb, scraping your teeth against the pad of it. For a moment, your brain doesn’t comprehend him, but when the pressure on your ass and thighs let up, you realise what he’s requesting of you.

Clumsily, not letting go of his thumb as you swirl your tongue on it suggestively, you close your eyes and stretch your right leg out straight, sighing at the way your muscle aches slightly. Swapping over, it’s your left arm that stretches out this time, and your left leg that twists over, reversing the pose.

You can’t lie and say that the position itself doesn’t feel great for your body, but you can barely appreciate the health benefits when, the second you turn your head to the left and expose the right side of your neck, Jimin pounces like a wildcat to cover it up just as enthusiastically.

His thumb falls out of your mouth when you moan openly, lifting your leg up slightly in the hope that it’ll give him more room to slip his hand between. Even with his face pressed up firmly against your throat, he still manages to read your body effortlessly. His fingers dive in, on an angle this time so that he can press his whole palm against your aching core.

You feel so empty, every pinch of teeth and harsh suck making you clench around nothing, but his fingers are deft even through layers of clothing, and as you’re held down by the insatiable man, you find yourself on the unmistakable path to orgasm.

Surprised you could be this aroused to possibly reach orgasm with such little direct stimulation, you gasp, mouth fumbling to get something coherent out. “Jimin, please, god, I’m gonna- don’t stop, give me more, plea- fuck.”

You’re out of breath, panting with toes curling against the mat and neck ablaze. He increases the pressure and speed of his hand between your legs, but his lips leave you.

Whining in confusion, you swallow back your frustration and go to turn your head back up to investigate, but within seconds, your nerves are alight again.

Rough enough to snap more than a few threads, Jimin uses his free hand to tug down your shirt and bra over your chest, exposing your breasts. Like a man starved, he descends upon your right nipple and you cry out at the sudden attack of sensation.

If possible, he’s even rougher here than he was with your neck. Closing his teeth around it and tugging enough to send sparks of pain deep into your chest, he laps over it openmouthed, sucking and rolling the bud until you feel yourself going insane with it.

Your orgasm hits you with a single, intense jerk that jostles his lips free. When he sees you start to convulse and rock mindlessly against his hand, he lets out a breathy, pleased sound, and descends his lips on yours for the first time.

You have no energy in you to kiss him back, but he’s content licking into your mouth and nipping at your lips as the pleasure makes your eyes curl back. You find yourself unable to control your own muscles, left foot thumping against the mat as you sob into his mouth.

While the release is powerful, the complete lack of direct stimulation or penetration leaves you feeling weakened and not entirely satisfied. It’s not the kind of orgasm that puts you on blissful bed rest for the day, it’s the kind of toe-curling one that relaxes you for a moment but leaves you craving more.

And, with the way Jimin’s left his mark all over your throat, you wonder if that wasn’t his intention.

You pant as his hand slows, slipping out from between your thighs, which had clamped around it the moment overstimulation began to take hold. You feel unbelievably sensitive, even your soaked underwear almost too much.

His fingers trail over your neck, whisper light but still tingling the aggravated nerves and his lips come down one more time to press a kiss to either side of your face as you come down and return to coherency.

Blinking away those final dregs of the orgasm, you stare up at him in a daze. His face looks so soft and round from this angle, hair mussed and tangled from your grip. It’s hard to believe that this chubby-cheeked boy is the one that just wrecked you, but you know better than to doubt his many facets.

The right side of your chest aches, and he massages it apologetically before gently tucking your bra and shirt back up again to cover you. Standing up, he offers a hand to help you sit up, making sure you go slow and steady.

Your vision swirls a little when you finally stand up properly, and your weakened legs don’t help either, but Jimin just wraps his arms around your waist until you stop stumbling. You can feel his hardness against you, but you’re too wobbly to be in any position to help alleviate it, and he doesn’t seem to be expecting anything.

“Better?” he questions, eyes running over you with a mischievous glint. You nod weakly, body entirely free from tension. Jimin smirks, and a hand slides down to pat you on the ass playfully. “Good. I think it’s time for you to go back in there and show them all who loved you first, hm?”

By the time you do get inside and beeline for the downstairs bathroom, your neck is a mess. Blooms of deep purple and red flood your skin, evidence of the enthusiastic way Jimin had laved over it. You run cold water over your hands and hold them to your neck to try and cool the heated skin down, swallowing as you imagine how the rest of your day is going to go.

You’d been pretty clear with the group that your feelings weren’t exclusive and that you weren’t going to choose only one of them to share those feelings with, but saying that was one thing and having a very bold physical reminder of it was another. You weren’t sure how the others would react.

But there’s no way to tell beyond simply going out and seeing, so you head back out when you hear movement in the kitchen.

In your absence, Jin and Yoongi have both come down and are making breakfast together with a practiced ease you haven’t quite seen before. Without needing words, a tap on the shoulder or cupping of the waist is enough to communicate their shifting around each other. As you enter, the two are quietly chuckling warmly together about some inside joke you must’ve just missed.

It seems your talk has had further effects than you initially thought.

Truth be told, it’s nice to see them so domestic, like a long-married couple, but it lasts only as long as it takes one of them to turn around and catch you sneaking in.

“And where did you get that, young lady?” Jin questions, brows furrowed and a wooden spatula aimed accusatively at your face.

“Do you need three guesses?” you retort, even as your face flushes. “You sound more like a dad every day, Jin.”

“Feels like I’m raising six children sometimes,” Jin sighs out, spatula lowering in defeat.

Beside him, Yoongi speaks with his back to you both as he sautees some onions. “I better be the one excluded from that number, hyung.”

“Don’t worry,” Jin assures with a hearty pat on Yoongi’s shoulder, “you’re my doting housewife.”

Yoongi pauses, huffs, and tilts his head to the side. “Okay, well… I guess I can’t be offended but I still don’t like that.”

“Nothing wrong with being a housewife, dear,” Jin sings, before he realises what he’s forgotten. “Wait; hey!” He whirls on you again, this time replacing the spatula with a spoon covered in gochujang. Some of it flies off with the momentum and spatters on the countertop. “Don’t distract me with my beautiful milf-boy-”

“I’m right here.”

Jin ignores Yoongi, eyes still on the mess your neck has become. “Seriously, who did that to you? It’s sending a very bold message and I’m undecided on how I feel.”

The onions finished, Yoongi patters around the kitchen bringing all the components together in the pan for a intoxicating stir-fry. He turns and leans against the countertop as the vegetables and noodles sizzle away. “Hyung, you’re not even in the competition anymore; does it matter?”

Jin’s eyes narrow further. “It absolutely does matter. How are the dear viewers going to enjoy watching this lovefest without some drama? If I can spy no issues, I must create them. Who do I have to extravagantly confront?”

“It was Jimin,” you answer shortly, keeping deadpan even as your heart races with the relief that he’s not actually mad. On the other hand, Yoongi hasn’t made much eye contact with you throughout his bantering, and his back is a little tenser.

Jin deflates when he hears you. “Never mind,” he breathes out weakly, almost whispering. “I’m still a little scared of him.”

“Really? I’d be happy to arrange a showdown,” you offer with a grin, but he just glares at you playfully, waving his hand after a moment to beckon you over. Approaching him immediately, you fall into his awaiting arms and hug him tightly, attempting to avoid getting caught by the red-covered spoon. “You’re not mad, Jin?”

“Never, baby,” his voice thrums close to your ear, and you sink into him deeper. “He better be treating you right, though.”

“You all are,” you respond honestly, eyes closed and missing the way Yoongi stiffens up guiltily, plating up the stir fry for eight people.

“Good.” Jin squeezes you tighter, gently rocking you from side to side. “Only the best for our girl. Isn’t that right, Yoongi?”

It takes him long enough to answer that you untangle yourself from Jin’s grip. Yoongi is rolling out his shoulders like the tension has seeped into his muscles. “I- they don’t hurt, do they? The hickies?”

You blink, hand jumping up to massage at your neck reflexively. “Not really. I don’t mind them, honestly.”

Jin goes still, the way he does when he’s deeply concentrating. “What’s wrong, Yoongi?”

It takes Yoongi a moment to work out how to phrase it, a noise of frustration leaving his mouth. “I’m more jealous than I thought,” he admits, eyes dim. “Seeing those just makes me want to mark you up even more, and that’s not a healthy desire if you’re going to be dating so many of us. I’ll- I’ll get over myself, I’m sorry, it’s not you, Y/n.”

You feel simultaneously weightless and sunken. “I can tell him no marks-”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Yoongi blurts in, sighing at himself for the interruption and harsh tone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Like fate is against his apology, Yoongi is interrupted himself by Namjoon and Taehyung coming downstairs, the latter attached to Namjoon’s back like a determined koala.

“Morning,” Namjoon calls out cheerily, acting as if he doesn’t have a tall man clinging to him. “Meant to rain today.”

“Is it?” Jin asks automatically, before glancing up and double-taking at Taehyung. “It seems like I’m missing some key context here.”

“Honestly, I think I am too,” Namjoon admits, sighing slightly as his brows crumple in confusion. “I’m not entirely certain why Taehyung is doing this either.”

“Do I need a reason?” Taehyung murmurs dreamily from behind Namjoon’s back.

“Perhaps not, but I’d certainly enjoy one,” the therapist answers decisively.

Taehyung just hums and buries his face in deeper between Namjoon’s shoulder blades. The academic furrows his brows. “Tae, can I go sit down for breakfast, please?”

“Of course.”

Namjoon waits two beats. The younger man doesn’t move. “Okay,” Joon announces disjointedly, “the chairs aren’t built for two. You’ll need to let go.”

Taehyung lets out a broken whine, but his arms loosen enough for Namjoon to spring forward and take a seat at the dining table hurriedly, looking vaguely shell-shocked. Not missing a moment, Taehyung blinks around blearily and comes towards you, latching onto your upper torso with sweater paws.

You welcome the contact, though you can empathise with the sheer confusion that comes from Taehyung’s sudden clinginess. Leaning into his embrace, your head is propped up against his chest and shoulder. You wrap your arms over his to hug them against you. He hums, pleased, chin on your head causing the vibrations to resonate.

“Hey, Tae,” you murmur warmly, “feeling cuddly today?” He nods against you. You reach out with a potential idea. “Puppy-cuddly?”

“You’d think.” Taehyung sighs lightly, a small sound of discomfort in his chest. “I don’t really know, I just want to be close to someone. I don’t feel so good.”

“I’m sorry.” Keeping your voice as low and soothing as possible, you can’t help but worry that he might still be having a rough time from the other day. “What can we do?”

“Just this is okay.”

Normally you’d be happy to indulge him endlessly, but at that moment your stomach rumbles. Before your mind can scramble to work out how to let him down gently, Yoongi comes over.

“Breakfast is ready, Tae, you should eat. Plenty of time for cuddling after, okay?”

Jungkook and Hoseok are the next duo to come down, both looking bleary-eyed, but they go silent and curious as they take in the odd scene. Both of them sit down, Jungkook scooting his chair quietly to sit closer to his hyung.

Taehyung whines again, but lets go and moves to the table, slumping down in a chair with his arms folded on the table and head resting on them. “Morning, Kookie. Morning, Hobi-hyung.”

Hoseok is slightly stiff like he’s not sure how to proceed, but Jungkook just mimics Tae’s pose until they’re eye to eye against the tabletop. “Morning, Tae. Wanna watch Yuri on Ice today? We’ve been meaning to rewatch it, remember?”

Taehyung stays silent but nods gratefully. Serving the table quickly, Yoongi sits down on the other side of Taehyung, chopsticks in one hand, the one closest to Taehyung free. “Here, hold hyung’s hand while you eat. Some food will cheer you up.”

Jin has to go to the foyer to call up the stairs to Jimin one more time for breakfast. Having snuck up while you were in the bathroom, he appears perfectly coiffed with a smug smile on his face that drops the second he reads the room.

“Tae, are you okay?”

The masseuse gives an unconvincing grunt. He props his head enough to feed himself, gripping Yoongi’s hand like his life depends on it. For a moment, Jimin looks ready to ask Jungkook or Yoongi to move seats, but he gives up and sinks into the seat beside you, no hint of showmanship for your hickies remaining.

Taehyung does perk up a little as he eats, sitting up more to drink a strawberry juice that Jin retrieves from the fridge for him, lips wrapped around the straw even after he’s done sipping at it.

With the slight lifting of his mood, the rest of you decide it’s best to talk as normal and hope he can join in. Unfortunately for you, that means the hot topic Jimin had been expecting comes back around.

“So you had a run-in with a very desperate vampire, I’m assuming?” Hoseok quips with a grin. “Looking a little rough this morning since I saw you last, princess.”

“We had fun, didn’t we, Y/n?” Jimin asks, though with the way his eyes track Hoseok’s, you can tell it’s rhetoric.

Hoseok’s smile falters, but he brings it back quickly. “I never would’ve guessed you were the one that was so ungraceful and sloppy, but I suppose I gave you too much credit.”

Instead of bristling, Jimin lets out a bright, genuine laugh. “Do you even hear yourself? Give up the strong front, Hoseok. It’ll be less embarrassing for you when you get eliminated.”

“I can’t wait for the editors to play that back this Monday when you get eliminated. You’ve set up the irony perfectly, congratulations.”

Jimin finishes his mouthful calmly, even as his eyes flare. “It astounds me that you still think you actually have a chance. You’ve already overstayed your welcome in this competition.”

“Oh, do entertain me,” Hoseok drawls, the rest of the table going silent as you watch the interaction. Even Taehyung has finished almost all of his breakfast without realising as he’s sucked into the drama. “Why is it exactly that you think I’m so bad? I still can’t think of a single thing you can do that I can’t do better.”

“You’re a gimmick,” Jimin answers without hesitation. “Acting so high and mighty and professional like nobody could ever hope to touch you. One hour with you and I bet I’d have you sniffling and begging for mercy.”

Hoseok swallows hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob. “I imagine I would, peaches. One hour is more than enough time for me to go crazy from sheer boredom. It’s a relief Y/n’s fallen for you because your scenes have been consistently subpar. It’s what I would expect from a scripted pornstar, though.”

“Curious that you watch my scenes, Hoseok,” Jimin replies in a forcefully calm voice, head tipped to the side. “You seem more knowledgable on how I fuck than most people in this room. Why is that?”

Hoseok tenses like a snake, chin lifting in defiance. “I like to do my research before I engage with anything, I doubt you’d know about tha-”

The professional dom realises his slip of the tongue a second later than the rest of you. Jimin already has a sly smirk on his face, teeth glinting as he leans back in his chair. “You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Hoseok goes perfectly still, barely breathing. After a moment, he shakes his head, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “Let’s get one thing clear: I want to fuck you until you look stupid.”

Even from several seats away, you hear Jungkook whisper to Taehyung conspiratorially. “Oh my god, they’re gonna fuck.”

Taehyung’s eyes are bright. “Finally.”

Jimin sucks in a deep breath, chest rising, and exhales. “I thought it would take more than that for you to cave. I’m a little disappointed, honestly. Anyways;” he stands up suddenly, sending the two oldest a warm smile, “thanks for breakfast, hyungs. I’m going to go cuddle my boyfriend and revel in my victory. It’s been a pleasure.”

When Taehyung jumps up like he’s won the lottery and rushes off with Jimin upstairs, it leaves the group of you downstairs in chaos. Hoseok is seething, cheeks red hot with anger or humiliation or a fiery mix of both, and the rest of you are reeling with the developments.

“No way, hyung, I thought for sure you guys were gonna fuck right here!” Jungkook gushes, springing up to massage Hoseok’s shoulders like a coach to his star player. “I love Minnie-hyung, but my money’s on you! You’re the expert, after all!”

Hoseok fails to loosen up. “Thanks, Jungkook, but it’s not worth much now. I just look like an idiot. He just winds me up so- whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“The best thing you can do is prove your worth through actions,” Namjoon advises gently. “At least, that’s what I believe.”

“Yeah!” Jungkook agrees. “Go up there and rail him like a train, hyung!”

“Okay, no, that wasn’t what I was suggesting,” the academic hurries out, “I meant you should just do your best in the competition and show how capable you are. Maybe he’ll come around, and if not, that’s okay, too.”

Hoseok nods slowly. “I like that,” he says flatly, “I’ll give that a go.”

Jungkook deflates, and sits back down. “Thanks, Jungkook. Great idea, Jungkook. You’re a valuable member of the house, Jungkook.”

“Jungkook?”

The youngest immediately perks up, looking over to Hoseok. “Yeah?”

“You’re an extremely valuable member of the house. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

You wait in anticipation all day. You spend the morning in your room, calling friends and family, watching mindless reruns, trying to tune your brain out. Jimin keeps you updated on Taehyung; there isn’t anything wrong in particular, Tae states. He just sometimes feels low and needs a little more affection until the clouds pass.

The two of them stick together all day in Jimin’s room, with Jungkook joining after lunch for a anime marathon, and you let them enjoy their quality time together.

You don’t really hear from Hoseok, but you guiltily check the Bangasm livestreams you’d bought previously and see him scheming in his room, sifting through his boxes of sinful toys and equipment.

Namjoon and Yoongi play chess in the lounge for a few hours later in the day, and you and Jin watch, the latter playing the role of commentator much to the pair’s chagrin.

You witness the moment they all get the text.

Their phones go off in unison; yours stays silent. Namjoon finishes his turn before he checks, but the others pull out their devices and read the text, straightening up in surprise.

Yoongi’s eyes find yours as Jin nudges you teasingly, but neither of them mention it aloud. Once Namjoon calls his move and checks his own notification, you fight the urge to investigate the message yourself. It’s like an unspoken secret that Hoseok is going to scene with you tonight, but you have no way of knowing if the guys have received more information than you.

You find yourself unable to keep still during dinner. The vibe is strained; both Jimin and Hoseok’s confrontation and the expectation of the night ahead keep the conversation to a minimum.

Hoseok has sat himself at the head of the table, with you on the far end. This small mercy allows you to eat without the fear that he’ll begin his scene right then and there, but still you’re almost shaking with uncertain expectation.

Every time you check your watch, he grins to himself.

You start eating at 6:17 in the evening. You finish your own meal a mere eight minutes later, but the table isn’t cleared until 6:39.

You find your panties embarrassingly damp when you do a nervous bathroom break. Just the passing of time has you turned on, before he’s even begun the scene.

Hoseok disappears upstairs at 6:45. He’s back at 6:51 with a black bag, instructing everyone to take a seat in the living room.

Yoongi has to gently swat at your hand every time it finds itself in your mouth, unconsciously biting at your nails. Your heart is beating like it’s in a marathon, core already throbbing dully. More than anything, you hope he’ll be nice and fuck you properly. Jimin this morning had left you needing more, the little tease, and if Hoseok is in the cheeky mood too, you might not make it.

You’re told to strip down to your panties and bra two minutes before 7. Anxious and aroused, it takes you those two minutes to even manage the act of undressing. The second you straighten up with only those two items of clothing on your body, Hoseok is looping a short rope around your neck, folded over and tied into a loose knot, creating a makeshift collar that dangles between your breasts.

He uses it to tug you off the couch and over to the center of the room, hand running over your neck and down your back. Like he’s got something to prove, he’s dressed to the nines tonight in a purple and black ensemble. More colour than he usually has, he still sticks primarily to leather. His pants and boots are black as ever, but his black shirt has a purple leather harness constricting it, and his beautiful hands are covered by riding gloves of the same material and shade.

Feeling the well-worn leather slide over your bare skin, your breath hitches. Even as you step into unknown territory, being under his control feels like shaking a heavy burden off your shoulders. He’ll take care of you now.

When he feels you relax into his caressing, he smiles. Not the warm, sunshine-tinted smile you’d get during the day, but the predatorial one that comes for you in your dirtiest dreams. The one you’ve had the pleasure of seeing on this show multiple times, one you can never quite get used to.

“Alright, princess, you ready to give the boys a show?”

You suck in a breath when his gloved hand sinks lower, gripping shamelessly at your ass. “Yes, Master.”

“Mm, good. On your knees.”

You follow without thought, the slight curl of embarrassment at having so many viewers well and truly flooded by the arousal of… having so many viewers. You asked for this though, and with the way Hoseok grins watching you squirm, he’s having the exact same thought.

“We’re going to be tying you up tonight, princess. Look up; do you see that?” Confused, you follow Hoseok’s instruction, shivering slightly in your underwear. Above you, the ceiling boasts two heavy-duty rings set apart by about a meter. You swear you’ve never seen them before, yet you can’t recall a time Hoseok would’ve been able to install them. “Did none of you think to inspect this house a little more? I noticed this in Week 2; tested them a few days later to make sure they were solid enough to handle the weight of a body.”

Your chin drops slightly to watch him as he stalks over to his black bag, undoing the zipper with a smooth flourish. He’s in his element, presenting like this, and the others are just as enraptured as you are.

“I was wondering if anyone would ever catch onto them, but as the weeks went by, nobody did. It wasn’t until last Sunday that I was checking out the supply closet again and found this.” When he straightens up again, the dark-haired dom is holding a tangle of belts, slings and chains. Confused, it isn’t until he takes the two largest metal carabiners and fixes them onto the ceiling hoops that the piece of equipment falls into its natural position.

It’s a sex swing.

The first hook supports a wide strap that curves down at the lowest point, which still hangs above your head as you kneel. The second hook provides two smaller footholds, and the two sections are connected by a chain with two small loops further up by the first strap. It’s enough for you to picture yourself lying back, hands in the loops, feet in stirrup position, exposed and vulnerable. Swallowing, you subtly wriggle to press your heel against your heated core, already wet through the fabric of your panties.

“Since you so kindly offered your heart to everyone the other day, I thought perhaps you’d be interested in sharing your pretty body, too.” Hoseok dips into a crouch in front of you, fingers clutching at your chin to keep the intense eye contact. “After all, that was the entire spirit of this show, wasn’t it? To spread your legs for us?”

You pause, shivering under him, but his raised brow indicates it’s not a rhetorical question. “Y-yes, Master.”

“Good. A slut who knows her purpose. Stand up, clothes off.”

Suddenly, your cheeks feel flaming hot. Being spoken off so vulgarly in front of the others is humiliating, and you feel so dirty slipping off your panties and bra as you feel their eyes on you.

Jimin is swallowing heavily, vein in his neck throbbing as Taehyung hugs the older man’s leg tightly between his, the typical pout of arousal on his face. Yoongi and Jungkook sit together, the latter looking dazed and the former hyper-fixated. It takes you the briefest glance to see Yoongi’s hand cupping Jungkook’s erection possessively, and you clench your thighs together at the sight of it.

On the last couch, dead center to you, Jin and Namjoon seem no more composed. Namjoon, thoroughly avoiding looking at you, cheeks pink and lip swollen from nervous biting, and Jin, legs crossed and grimacing like it’s taking physical effort to stay seated.

Fully naked, you hiss when Hoseok suddenly presses his body to yours, leather on bare skin. He lifts you like you’re nothing, muscles flexing even as his face stays purely relaxed. Into the sex swing you go, first lowered onto the main strap.

“Hold onto the chains, princess, get comfy. You’ll be here for a while.” While most of his hair is gelled back, his preferred style when in a longer scene, a lock towards the front has already fallen over his brow, and he flicks it out of his eyes with a single finger, waiting expectantly.

You grip the chains themselves, careful not to pinch yourself as you shuffle. The strap itself isn’t as wide as your ass, and so it’s a careful balance to find a position where you feel most stable. Unfortunately, that position happens to be one where you’re leaning back on a slight angle, exposing yourself more.

Hoseok no doubt knows this, and his eyes dart down to where his crotch is mere centimetres from yours. You wonder if he can make out the glistening slick that’s gathered there, and the thought makes you twitch.

He definitely catches that, chuckling and lightly spanking your innner left thigh. “Good girl,” he praises, and your breath hitches. “Let’s do your hands first, hm? Keep you steady.”

One at a time, he takes you hands by the wrist and slips them through the loops, using a solid buckle to tighten them appropriately. As he manhandles you into position, it leaves your attention free to roam. Without intending to, your eyes look out towards the couches.

There’s more movement than last time you checked. Taehyung has his teeth in Jimin’s sweater, biting down near the shoulder as he humps his arm. The older man doesn’t scold him or stop him, instead his own teeth are out as he nips at Taehyung’s ear, whispering something into it that has the masseuse biting down hard on his own lip.

The others have managed to stay put more than him, though Namjoon is now watching you fleetingly, like he’s still fighting his own embarrassment.

By the time you’ve observed them, Hoseok is patting your knee to draw your gaze back, and instructs you shortly to lift a leg up into the right strap. As you do, you tug at your wrists curiously, but find no give. The chain jangles slightly, and Hoseok glances up to silence you with a single harsh look. You freeze, letting him strap your ankle into the stirrup in the same way.

Your second leg is barely touching the floor at this point, tiptoeing the carpet, but still the difference from being mostly suspended to fully suspended takes your breath away. You resist slightly, instinctively, when he goes to lift your left leg, but the second it leaves the floor and gets tied up, spreading your legs wide, you whine and shiver with the unexpected delight of it.

You can move but you won’t get anywhere, and the futility is more thrilling than anything you’ve tried yet. Somehow, even your brief tryst at the Red Room feels hazier and less momentous than this. That - before it soured, at least - was surrounded by so much novelty and excitement that it barely registered. You were just tied up in front of a crowd for a show.

But here, in front of the men you loved, in front of the men that were competing for your sexual preference, in the intimacy of the place you’ve been living at for over a month - it’s indescribable.

Now that you’re fully off the ground, you can lean back and let the wrist bindings keep you upright. It’s less strain on your abdomen and upper arms if you let yourself sink into the swing like that, strung up in an arc.

But Hoseok doesn’t seem satisfied. He runs his hand over you, head to shoulder to breast, and you yip when he tweaks a nipple, making your legs jerk. The only place they have to move is inwards, buckling at the knee but giving you enough leeway to kick out.

“Mm, I thought so,” he says in a low tone, and when he turns away, your heart sinks a little like you’ve disappointed him. He returns quickly, however, with his typical scarlet ropes, two sets. “Too much wiggle room for my taste, princess. Bend them.”

You follow his instructions and the press of his gloved hands as he encourages your knees to bend, calves meeting your thighs. Methodically, with the speed of an expert, he trusses you up like that. The friction of the rope leaves lines of fire across your skin, and as your legs are fastened one at a time, ankles tucked against your ass cheeks, you’re mortified to feel your own wetness drip down between them.

Hoseok ignores your cunt like it barely exists, purely focused on his task at hand. Once he finishes, he lays out a smack against your breast that is so sudden that you let out a yelp and attempt to convulse away. This time, your muscles tense to no avail. The chains barely rattle, and he grins in clear approval.

“There we go. Now, I have some rules for you, princess. Will you behave for me?”

You nod, voice croaky as you give a belated verbal response. “Yes, Master, I’ll behave.” At this point you feel so tightly wound up, and unable to relieve yourself, that it feels like you’d agree to anything.

“That’s my girl,” he coos warmly, gloved hands running up your sides, tickling your skin enough to make the muscles tense. “Here are my rules for tonight. Number one: all these men here tonight are your doms. You’re at the bottom of the food chain, so you’ll listen to them. But who’s at the top?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin roll his eyes, taking out his frustration on Taehyung’s neck, which has started to bloom like yours on one side. You, however, are in no position to resist. “You, Master.”

“Correct,” he confirms intently, fiddling lazily with your nipple to watch you attempt to squirm, “so my word comes above theirs. You obey me first. Understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good.” His hand leaves you, and you watch as he moves back to the bag one last time, retrieving a blindfold. You whine at the sight of it, but he just returns and instructs you to sit up, slipping behind you. “You only have one other rule. No cumming until everyone else here has. Got it?”

The fabric falls over your eyes, cutting off the world. You gasp, thud of arousal giving away to reality. “Wait, but three of them can’t even-”

“That’s not my fault, princess. You voted them off. You can think of a way. Now;” his voice quality changes, muted slightly by distance, “who’s first?”

With no vision and no mobility, there’s nothing you can do but float and feel.

In the end, there’s no time to strategise, because only a few seconds pass before hands fall on you. Uncovered, they’re not Hoseok’s.

Light and undirected as a curious fairy, this touch roams your legs, trailing over the places where rope gives way to skin, where you’re trapped and still. The touches raise higher, but skip over your overheated core. This man flicks at your nipples, more intentioned than Hoseok has but not enough to make you do anything more than whine.

The noise echoes embarrassingly in the hushed room. You swallow through a dry throat and lean back on your restraints. “Who are you?”

Instead of an answer from the mystery man, it’s a distant chuckle from Hoseok that responds. “You can’t recognise your lover from his hands alone? How disappointing. Will you recognise his cock?”

You mouth falls open with an ungraceful whine as suddenly you’re breached by the man’s tip. It happens so unexpectedly that by the time you clench down, he’s already driven inside you. Trembling at the unforgiving stretch, you bear down tighter, hoping to make him curse out, something that would help you place him.

But a huff of air is all you get, before the hand returns to clutch bruisingly at your thigh, keeping you in place as he begins to fuck you.

You hiccup with the shock of it, at being entirely unable to move away. It would be frightening did you not feel so safe and turned on, but even then you can barely breathe, listening to the chains cling with each thrust.

He starts off slow, but once you begin to relax and accept him in, his hips smack your ass with every thrust, sending you jerking back and forth in the air. It feels so good that it’s almost unbearable, and you sob when you recall your second rule.

“How am I meant tuh-” you pant, writhing unsuccessfully as your train of thought is fucked out of you. You hear a laugh, Jimin’s, but it’s too far for it to be him railing you like this. Gritting your teeth, you fight to keep track. “How am I meant to know if everyone’s came if I don’t even know who’s - fuck - who’s fucking me?”

When Hoseok laughs this time, it’s closer. You jump when you feel gloves on your face. The man inside you slows to a grind as Hoseok pulls the hair away from your temples and cheeks where it’s stuck on with sweat. You’re panting, trying to catch your breath, picturing what he must look like standing above you and tying your hair back for you. “That is quite a dilemma, isn’t it? Don’t worry, princess, I’ll only punish you if you get it wrong.”

You sob again as the thrusts come back full force. Hoseok’s presence leaves you, or at least you think it does, and the man fucking you grips onto your hips with two hands. Through your overwhelmed delirium, you can hear his frantic breaths, like he’s fighting to keep his mouth shut just as much as you’re fighting back the pleasure tightening inside of you.

“Ju-just tell me who you are, ple-ase,” you cry out around a moan. You try to work out who it is in your head, but it’s so hard to think when he’s curving inside you so nicely, when you can’t catch your breath or get his pace to stop.

You can cross out the three eliminated members. It takes you a few thrusts to even recall who they are. Not Taehyung, Jin, or Jungkook. Jimin was too far away, Hoseok was still wearing his gloves.

Namjoon or Yoongi, then. Your head tips back bonelessly when he picks up the pace. You have to tense up your lower body with the effort it takes not to cum, but that very action only makes him rub inside you more firmly.

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, with the hard place hammering inside you so vigorously, and the thought makes you want to laugh or sob, delirious. “Just cum already, what the fuck,” you whine out, tears prickling in your eyes from beneath the blindfold.

A strangled snort sounds from above you, and the hips stutter before they resume. It’s too late, though, and you gasp at the familiar chuckle. “Yoongi! It’s Yoongi,” you babble until he does you the favour of confirming.

“Mm, you got me, you minx. Might have to put a gag on you,” he quips, and your heart swells hearing his rumbly tone. You think perhaps you’re smiling, but you can barely tell when he continues to fuck you, this time without holding back.

Now that you know it’s him, you can picture the way his forehead must be glistening with sweat. His right arm has hooked around your left leg, and he’s spreading you wider so that he can rut into you deeper.

It feels so good that your eyes are wet, and when he finally curses and fucks into you one last time, relief overwhelms you. The roiling storm of pleasure inside you settles to a weak thunder, and you sigh in satisfaction as you feel him spill inside you, breathing heavily.

“God, h-how many more to go?” you question weakly. The feeling of him pulling out, leaving you empty and dripping, is cruel and unsatisfying and you attempt to wriggle in your bonds, enticing the next one in without shame.

“Only one down and you already can’t do basic maths? Six, princess. Though you’ll only be taking three more cocks.”

You hear Yoongi’s breathy laugh and a plastic click. You picture him opening a packet of wet wipes and cleaning himself down, spent and satisfied. That makes one of us.

It isn’t long before there’s movement again, and it’s for the best, because you swear you’ve felt cum drip off you and onto the carpet already.

That thought soon leaves your head as you hear more rustling, a click of the tongue, and Hoseok muttering quietly enough that he probably hadn’t intended you to hear, “of course.”

A hand brushes your cheek lightly. Your heart leaps. “Jimin! It’s Jimin, you’re Jimin!”

The hand stills. A moment of silence filled with your heavy panting, followed by the sound of a zipper. Was Jimin wearing pants with a zipper? Was he wanting to fuck your mouth, all the way up here?

The truth punches into you in a single, smooth thrust that leaves you choking on air. “Nnnnnn-not Jimin, not Jim-ah!”

When Namjoon bottoms out inside you, it’s mind-curling. You can’t think, you can’t process anything, all there is is the wet stretch and the all-encompassing fullness. Namjoon’s was a cock you never really got used to, but having your sight and movement restricted so much makes it feel like the first time, and your muscles won’t stop shaking.

“Colour, princess?” Hoseok questions from across the room.

You keen lowly, not willing to give up the pleasure as much as it drowns you. “Green, I-I’m okay.”

“You’re doing well. Continue.” The last sentence isn’t directed at you, but Namjoon. He begins to shift inside you slowly, testing you. When the only sound is a guttural moan, he takes the hint and gradually builds a pace.

Despite you having pinned down four of the people in the room, the second Namjoon adjusts his hips and begins using the chains closest to him to fuck you onto his cock, you know it’s game over.

Your legs tense and relax on repeat as you fail to move away or gain ground. Even as they’re fastened by your wrists, your hands still clutch desperately at the higher chains, trying to anchor yourself. It’s all in vain.

Namjoon reaches every spot inside you, and his pelvis rubs against your clit every few thrusts as he grinds in a small circle. Your mouth goes slack, wondering aimlessly who had taught him to fuck like that, or if he was just evolving naturally into some kind of sex god.

You try to hold out, but when he starts fucking you faster to reach his own end, you know your time is numbered. The swirl tightens in your gut again, telling you you’re well on your way to an electric orgasm.

You squirm, pant, whine, anything to try and distract yourself and hold yourself back from the edge, but in the end there’s only one thing you can do. Beg.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna- stop, you have to stop, I can’t - no, fuck, god.” You’re babbling hopelessly, but he listens, pulling out of you in one swift motion. Cunt throbbing and distressingly empty, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. Sobbing, you tremble and crane your neck in the direction you think Hoseok is sitting. “Master, please just let me cum, it’s not fair, I can’t do it-”

“You can, princess, use your head.”

His words are intended to assure you, encourage, you, but they just make you sob harder at the hopelessness of it. Namjoon’s broad palm rests on your hip, thumb rubbing to soothe you. You catch your breath as the haze of orgasm denial clears up again. Use your head.

“N-Namjoon, fuck my mouth, fuck my throat, please,” you beg in a rush, lips curling in triumph at the idea. He was big, sure, but the thought of winning your challenge, of having Hoseok’s pride and approval makes any jaw ache well worth it.

Already caught out, Namjoon doesn’t need to hide his identity, and he chooses not to, letting out a groan. “Y/n, god, you’re killing me. So beautiful. Are you sure?”

You nod your head frantically, even as your cheeks heat from the compliment. “I’m sure, please, you have to.” To sweeten the pot, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, letting it hang with your chin pointing upwards.

You hear a muffled groan from further away, and your eyes squeeze tightly behind your blindfold as your mind provides you with images of who it could be. Was it Jimin, helping Taehyung get off as he watched you intently, robbed of his turn? Or was it the pup himself, or the other two eliminated members, knowing the offer couldn’t extend to them?

There’s no more time to think about it, as Namjoon’s hand gently cups the top of your head from below, holding you steady as he feeds his cock into your mouth. You widen your jaw to its limit to welcome him, teeth tucked behind your lips and cheeks hollowing.

He curses, stopping about halfway. You can feel him tickling the back of your throat, but you hold back your gag reflex, determined to suck him off quickly. Like this, your entire lower half feels almost nonexistent with nobody touching it, bar the searing heat between your legs, and it’s such a confusing sensation that you’re in a hurry to get your reward already.

Luckily for you, oral seems to be Namjoon’s weakness. He never even goes any deeper, fucking you shallowly and encouraging you to use your tongue with husky praises. The blood rushes to your head, encouraging you to work harder, and when you feel his hand clutching his own base, jerking himself off into your mouth, you brace yourself for his release.

The awkward angle makes it difficult to swallow it all, and despite your valiant effort, you feel some of it slip out the corners of your mouth, running down your cheeks.

When Namjoon comes down from his high, softening quickly, you feel his hands on your back, lifting you up. His mouth descends on yours with such intensity that it gives you a fright, and you moan into him as his tongue flicks out to clean you up.

“God, Joon,” Yoongi grumbles shakily from the sidelines, “who taught you to be so filthy?”

“They grow up so fast,” you hear Jungkook mumble in a dreamy tone, making Taehyung snicker weakly.

“Two down, princess,” Hoseok reminds. “Can you handle six more?”

You feel dizzy, a mix of your arousal and the upside-down position you held for a while. It takes you a moment to answer. “I- yeah, I can,” you decide eventually, leaning on Namjoon for a moment.

He stays beside you, holding you steady even when you’re entered again without warning. You stiffen in surprise, but after Namjoon, you’re so wet and well-stretched that the new person slides in with ease, starting a brutal pace from the get-go.

Jimin this time, you think, but waiting to feel a touch of skin or gloves on you to confirm. When the touch finally comes, you sigh out in relief, but it takes you only a few moments to realise that it’s Namjoon leaning over, grasping at your tits with his free hand, not the man between your legs.

Still, you get the feeling Hoseok is leaving himself for last as the alpha of the ‘food chain’, so you lean back into Namjoon’s solid chest and let yourself go lax for Jimin.

He never touches you, and you whine in frustration as his cock ruts into you on an angle, holding out on touching the spots that would make your toes curl.

Despite you needing not to cum yet, it still feels like being deprived, and as you start to complain incoherently, Namjoon crooks his neck again to kiss you, keeping you quiet.

As you strain to kiss him back, you’re jerked in your restraints by the force of the man fucking you. Jimin knows your body perhaps almost as well as your own, many of them do at this point, and so it’s no surprise that he’s doing this on purpose. Whether it’s out of mercy, or sadism, it’s impossible to tell.

You do your part by bearing down on him, trying to guide him to cum quicker. You’re exhausted after just two, but relaxing and letting it happen is allowing your mind to focus on other things.

You need to get Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jin to come too. Without touching them.

“H-Hoseok, Master,” you call out shakily, almost expecting him to stay quiet to keep his identity a secret.

“Yes, princess.” Too easy. His voice is far enough away that you’re certain who it is between your legs again. There would be nobody else to fuck you next except him, and so you can turn your intent to the three unmanned players.

“Can I get the others to touch each other?”

The grin in Hoseok’s voice when he replies is clear as day. “Of course, princess. But remember, they’re your doms, so they don’t have to obey. How prettily can you beg?”

With a whine, you almost sob in relief. It’s clear now, what he wants this challenge to show. While this entire reality show may be based around you, it’s them that have the power to indulge you or not. You have to make an effort just as much as they do.

But as Jimin fucks you deeper, now giving in and hooking two fingers around a rope on either leg to keep you close, you’re too desperate to feel ashamed about begging.

You pick your first two, the ones more likely to listen to your pleas. “Tae-tae, Jungkookie,” you gasp out, “you wanna cum, right? W-will you touch each other for me?”

The man between your legs lets out a deep sigh, almost a laugh, and picks up his pace. You think Jimin’s close, and so you attempt to tighten yourself as much as you can, letting him fuck you onto his cock with the ropes.

Further away, by the couches, you hear Taehyung whimper. It’s Jungkook that speaks up. “How do you want us to touch? Should I give Tae-hyung a handjob, or should I suck him off?” The masseuse cries out, and you almost moan yourself at the wet noise, brain scrambling to picture them.

“Y-yes, suck him off, Kookie, t-touch yourself too, please,” you pant out, breath hitching when you feel Jimin come inside you unannounced. He’s silent through it, rolling his hips against yours and using a finger to push his cum back inside you once he pulls out.

Despite hating the loss, you’re pleased to hear the enthusiastic sound of a blowjob, muffled moans, and a whining Taehyung. Namjoon brushes back some stray hairs that have escaped their tie and lets you hang down gently before he leaves.

Back to being entirely untethered and untouched, your ears pick up the slack. You hear Namjoon moving away, and the low rumble of his voice.

Jungkook hiccups, coughing lightly. “Hy-hyung,” he whimpers, before his following moan comes out garbled again.

The sound is sinful, you imagine the imagery even more so, but all it serves to do is make you feel more deprived and starved for touch. “Master, please, come fuck me,” you whine, secretly hopeful that you can get Jin to cum while Hoseok is still fucking you so that you can finally cum on his cock.

It doesn’t take long for the emptiness to be resolved, but even as you moan openly in satisfaction, your mind hazes in confusion. You feel bare skin - a thumb brushing over your clit every few moments. Hoseok must’ve taken his gloves off.

Struggling to maintain some semblance of order, you strain your hearing to try and follow the action of the three men. Taehyung sounds close, Jungkook gagging obscenely, and if Namjoon has his giant hands around him, you know it’s only time before he’s reaching his peak too.

For now, you have no choice but to let that train of thought go. Hoseok fucks you with the clear intention of getting you to break. His thumb rubs at you without mercy, and his cock arches up deftly to get your g-spot too.

It’s a stretch, and your find yourself drooling, wondering if Hoseok’s cock was fatter or if it was just your mindlessness that has you confused.

Either way, you’re exhausted and horny, and despite the challenge, you decide you deserve a little pleasure before you continue.

You know your limits, and this feels too good to try and thwart it.

“Fu-fucking me so good, ‘t feels so good, Master,” you babble, and he rewards you with his teeth on your nipple, leaning over you to bite and suck at it. The touch is so familiar, and in your haze you let out a dopey, breathless chuckle at the thought of both Hoseok and Jimin leaving matching marks on your tits.

You miss the gloves, though, and the mental image of Hoseok railing you and fingering you with them on gets you a little too hot and bothered.

Out of nowhere, you feel your orgasm start to rise, and you gasp, trying to wriggle away. His grip only tightens, and you know you need to get Jin to cum quick, before you do. You’re not sure if you can even last Hoseok cumming first inside you if he’s fucking you this dirty, but a close failure in your eyes is better than giving up entirely.

“Jimin,” you call out, your voice uneven and shaky from please, “Min-Minnie, please suck Jin off, please, I’m gonna cum if you don’t- Minnie, please, I’ll do anything, I was good for you this morning, I-” You have to pause, running out of oxygen, and Hoseok slows down his thrusts like he’s waiting for the response too.

Nothing happens. In the lull, you hear Taehyung growl, followed by the satisfied panting of his release. You find enough breath to plead again quietly, but still there’s nothing. Jungkook comes too, or at least it sounds like he does, with Namjoon praising him for doing so well.

It’s just Jin and Hoseok.

Your desperation mounts to new heights as Hoseok stills inside you. You’re so close you could scream, and you almost do, letting out a raw cry. “Fuck, Jimin, I’m begging you, suck him off, make him cu- wha-?”

Your legs tremble when Hoseok pulls out suddenly. You feel plush lips bending down to press a light kiss right on your clit, and as you clench reflexively, you know you’ve fucked. “Wait, no, come back, Jimin, fuck me first, one of the others can do it!”

“Sorry, little mouse,” Jimin’s velvet timbre whispers, “I’m just doing what you asked.”

Your eyes prickle at the sudden abandonment, and you can’t even be pleased when you hear him chuckling lowly, sharing a messy kiss with who you assume is Jin before he begins his ministrations.

Your mind whirls. If Jimin was just inside you, then who was inside you before? “Master,” you call out uncertainly, and you feel your sanity break when a fond, assuring touch reaches out to cup your face. The cool material of the leather glove makes you sob. “I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean, princess? Can’t even keep track of the men you spread your legs for? That’s too bad.” Hoseok’s voice lulls you into a false sense of security, even as his words damn you. You have no clue. Either Hoseok took his gloves off just to confuse you, or he hasn’t finished yet either.

You clench down on nothing, dissatisfied and dripping cum. You don’t know if you can last, so desperate to find your own climax that you just want to sob. You feel so overwhelmed that when Hoseok’s glove trails lower, followed by his dull footsteps on the carpet, you find yourself sniffing back real tears. “Master, what’s the punishment?”

The smooth, well-worn leather finds its way between your legs. You gasp as he plays with your clit slowly, almost absentmindedly. “Already planning on failing?”

“I’m sorry, Master, I can’t do it,” you admit, “I’m lost.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he coos. Behind him, you hear Jin swearing and laughing breathlessly, voice low with arousal. You mourn missing out on the sight, but it’s hard for you to care for much beyond your own pleasure as Hoseok’s touch speeds up. “Should I just let you cum, hm? If you take your punishment like a good girl, I’ll forgive you.”

“Okay, yes, let me cum, please, Master,” you beg relentlessly, relieved at the thought of cumming. Any punishment seems tolerable for the permission to orgasm that you’ve been denied for so long.

Hoseok’s fingers speed up further, flat hand strumming back and forth over your clit with one purpose in mind. “Alright then, princess, cum for Master.”

Without hesitation, your body falls into a state of pure bliss. You don’t have enough awareness to realise how quiet the rest of the room has gotten. Instead, you cry out and let the tears soak your blindfold, release hitting you like a freight train, inescapable and more intense than anything you’ve felt in weeks.

Hoseok doesn’t even wait for you to come down before he issues his punishment. His voice is gruff, the buckles of his bag clinking and someone coming close to hand him something. “You only managed to get four of us to cum before you failed, princess, so that means you owe us three more orgasms. That sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

“Only four?” you mumble, beginning to prickle with oversensitivity.

“I never even started, and you left Jimin and Jin half-finished, the poor buggers. They seem very disappointed, princess. Do us a favour and cum nicely, and then we’ll forgive you.”

With that, he turns on the vibrator.

It��s tiny, smaller than you’d expect, but so rough. You whimper, tugging helplessly at your restraints as he pins your thighs open with one hand, pushing you well beyond the sharpness of oversensitivity.

It takes you a minute of eternity for the pain to roll back into pleasure. The vibrator slides around thanks to the obscene amount of cum dripping from you, and every time the rough texture touches your clit directly it’s like an electric shock.

Your second orgasm comes and goes quickly, leaving you crying out and wailing in no time.

You feel hands on you, tweaking at your nipples, gripping at your ass, teeth nipping your sore neck. It’s an assault on your senses, and you don’t even attempt to place a single one of them.

You’re in a pit of ecstasy and torture, never having been pushed this far before. But you can’t move, you can’t escape it, and so a third orgasm rolls over you like a small convulsion, your moans turning garbled and incomprehensible.

You’re sobbing. You can barely hear it as if underwater, but you know it’s you. “Too much,” your echo pleads, “it’s too much, I can’t take it.”

“You are taking it, princess, just one more. If you need red, say it.”

But one more, you can do one more, your body is far too weak to fight the pleasure anyway, and so you shake your head and shiver through the sensations and, with the help of fingers plunging inside you and curling upwards, the bristly vibrator brings you to your final orgasm.

The second you go stiff and shriek, Hoseok takes it away from you and the hands leave you. Only his remain, hurriedly tugging off his gloves so he can run his hands over you slowly, praising you with a warm whisper in your ear.

You’re shivering without end, even as a dazed smile has spread on your face for overcoming it, for lasting his punishment and taking it well. Panting like you’ve run a marathon, you feel him slide the blindfold off and whimper at the bright light.

“Just close your eyes, it’s all done now. All done. Good girl,” you hear Hoseok assuring. He enlists help to untie you, because in no time you’re loose and being hoisted into someone’s arms.

You let your eyes stay closed, happy to let the others maneuver you into whatever position. They lead you up the stairs carefully and when you’re put down again, you recognise the comfort of a bed, and you snuggle into it.

“Y/n, do you need any water? A snack? What’s your colour, princess?”

Sighing at the concern in his voice, you fight to put your vocal cords to use. “I’m green, I’m just so tired. Aftercare tomorrow, I just wanna sleep.”

“Okay, you can sleep.” A hand is in your hair, undoing the hairtye and brushing it back off your face. “You did so well today.”

You think you can hear the others wishing you a good night and departing, but you’re already drifting into an exhausted and satisfied sleep.

“You pushed her too far.”

Hoseok glances up, huffing as Jimin lingers in the doorway. “She’s fine. I’m an expert, as you constantly seem to forget.”

Jimin still looks on edge. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head at the pro dom. Secretly, Hoseok is amused that Jimin had to stop before he could cum. The perfect undercutting, and he didn’t even have to set it up himself. Now, the pornstar watches a sleeping Y/n with a dark look in his eye. “Mistakes happen. I heard about what happened when you took her to your work.”

Hoseok bristles at the clear insult. “I’ll never let that happen to her again.”

“No, you won’t,” Jimin insists, gaze only softening when he sees you wriggle around in your sleep, arm stretching out beyond the covers. “I don’t care what you think of me, but if you hurt her like that again - if you hurt any of them - you’ll have hell to pay.”

“Do you think I’m a fucking sex monster set out to hurt people?” Hoseok asks incredulously, fighting to keep his voice low. “I take my craft seriously, and I’d never intentionally harm someone. Besides, it’s rich coming from you. Lighting her neck up like a Pollock painting.”

Jimin’s grim demeanour lifts as his eyes dart to the vast expanse of hickies on your skin. “She liked getting them just as much as I liked giving them. Why; are you jealous? I’m not gonna go soft on you just because you admitted to your little crush on me.”

“It’s not a crush,” Hoseok spits immediately, before collecting himself. Glancing down, he ensures that you’re still sleeping deeply before he stands up, approaching Jimin. “One thing was made clear today,” he starts, using his height to make Jimin’s head crane up, “this house isn’t big enough for the both of us. Something’s gotta give.”

“I agree,” Jimin states, stepping back to cross his arms and stare up at Hoseok in distaste. “How about you give up?”

“Not without a fair fight.” Hoseok puts his dom face on, stiffening his jaw and narrowing his brows. Despite Jimin’s bold exterior, he doesn’t miss the way the pornstar swallows and shrinks slightly. “You and me, Sunday night. The one who submits or cums first accepts defeat and resigns from the competition.”

Jimin glares, eyes hardening in suspicion. “Why not just now, or tomorrow? Scared you’ll lose?”

Hoseok grins. Jimin’s considering it, and that means he’s already won. “You haven’t even done your prompt yet this week. Be grateful I’m giving you one last chance before you’re cut off. Unless you wanna leave the competition with the blue balls Y/n gave you tonight?”

“You’re on,” Jimin confirms. “And when you resign on Sunday, I’ll enjoy the look of pure humiliation on your face at creating your own defeat.”

“That’s a nice dream,” Hoseok fires back. “Fuck off and go dream it.”

Jimin just smirks, eyes lowering. “Goodnight.” He leaves after that, not bothering to shut Y/n bedroom door behind him.

Belatedly, Hoseok glances down, cursing at the obvious sight of his strained erection. Great. Real strong front there, Hoseok.

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