Work Text:
Taehyung sighs as he sings the line in the wrong pitch, again. The note turns shaky halfway through, betraying him just as it has every single time tonight. He pulls the headphones off with a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair as the last echo fades into the padded walls.
That was the fifth take. Maybe sixth. He’s stopped counting at this point.
“It’s okay, Tae. We can just pick up from here tomorrow.”
Yoongi’s voice filters into the booth, already distant and sounding done for the day. Taehyung glances up through the glass to see him slinging his backpack over one shoulder, movements tired but efficient. Everyone else left a couple of hours ago, stretching and complaining about their backs aching and ready for a break.
“I’ll stay until I finish this line,” Taehyung says, even though his voice lacks conviction. “Don’t wait up.”
Yoongi pauses, eyeing him for a moment like he wants to argue, then just nods.
“Alright. But we’re going out for dinner in 30 minutes, be back by then.”
The door clicks shut behind him, and suddenly the studio feels too big. Too quiet.
Taehyung exhales slowly, rolling his shoulders before turning back to the lyric sheet. The words blur together no matter how long he stares at them. He knows this verse, wrote it himself, lived it, breathed it, but the moment the music starts, something locks up in his chest. The emotion won’t come out right. The pitch slips, and his timing lags.
Perfectionism is a blessing and a curse.
He presses the button again, the red recording light flashes, forcing himself back into position. The instrumental fills his ears, steady and familiar, but instead of grounding him, it makes his skin itch. His foot taps against the floor, off-beat.
He needs to pull it together.
Taehyung restarts the take, almost immediately messes up the line, voice cracking on the first word. A frustrated sigh leaves his mouth.
He pulls the headphones down around his neck, staring at his reflection in the darkened glass. He looks tired—eyes a little dull, shoulders slumped. There’s a version of this song in his head that’s right, that hits exactly where it should, that he just cannot reach, no matter how hard he tries.
He flips the page over, then flips it back, as if the words might rearrange themselves if he looks away long enough.
Time flies by, faster than it should; the clock on the wall ticks loudly, a constant reminder of how long this is taking.
Taehyung rubs at the back of his neck, already rehearsing the apology he’ll give when he’s late to dinner. He knows he should stop. Knows pushing like this usually makes things worse.
One more try, and that’s it. If it comes out wrong still, he’ll just have to come in early tomorrow morning. His hand hovers over the record button, but the door opens without warning, breaking his concentration.
Taehyung’s eyes flick up to the door, and of course, it’s Jimin. His heart flutters at the sight of him, one of his own hoodies hiding his frame, cheeks a soft pink, a pretty smile spreading across his face once he spots him. Within a split second, he’s shuffling towards the booth, immediately bringing him in for a tight hug.
“Taehyungie,” Jimin sighs, voice sweet and drawn out, breath puffing right against the crook of his neck. “You said you’d be done already.”
“What are you doing here, baby?” Taehyung instinctively wraps his arms around his small waist, nudging his nose in those golden locks, inhaling the citrusy scent with no shame.
“I missed you,” Jimin says, unapologetic.
“It’s only been two hours,” Taehyung exhales with a knowing smile, the tension in his shoulders loosening despite himself.
“You’re just adding to my point.” Jimin hums.
“I’m working, Jimin-ah. I’ll be done soon.” Taehyung says automatically, putting space between them and his eyes drifting back to the music sheet in his hand. He already knows he won’t be able to get anything done with him here.
Jimin makes a thoughtful noise, clearly not convinced. He steps around Taehyung, plopping down on the chair by the mixing board, spinning once just because he can. The hoodie rides up his thighs when he moves, and the exposed skin interests him immediately; thick pillowy thighs that make his mouth water. Taehyung has to forcibly drag his gaze anywhere else.
There’s no time to be tempted; he still owes himself one more attempt at this line.
“You’ve been here all day,” Jimin says, leaning his cheek into his palm, watching him intently. “You look tense.”
“I’m fine, baby. I just have one more line to do.”
“I think you need a break.” Jimin rolls the chair closer with his foot, bumping Taehyung’s knee.
“No, I swear I’m fine. I’ll be done in—“ He’s cut off when Jimin takes the music sheet out of his hands wordlessly.
Taehyung stares at him in disbelief, irritation bubbling low in his stomach. But then Jimin flashes a sweet smile as he places the sheet on the board next to him and the feeling melts away as fast as it formed.
He could never stay mad at Jimin.
“Just a quick break, baby.” He grins, leaning forward now, elbows on the console, chin propped up as he looks at Taehyung like he’s the only thing in the room. He moves closer, warm hand caressing his thigh.
Oh. That kind of break.
Taehyung opens his mouth to argue; he needs to at least successfully complete this take, he’s been working on it for too long not to finish it. But he’s always been weak when it comes to Jimin. Five years together and he still can’t deny those starry eyes and pretty pout. And now that warm hand is trickling upwards, settling on his crotch, thumb rubbing up and down against the clothed shaft.
“I think I know how to relieve some of that tension,” Jimin whispers seductively, looking up at him through his lashes. It’s almost embarrassing how fast his blood travels south; cock starting to harden against those small ring-adorned fingers.
“Y-yeah, okay.” He breathes out, heat spreading all over his body at the implication. That’s all Jimin needs before slipping down to his knees, fingers making quick work of undoing Taehyung’s belt buckle.
God, he’ll never get over how beautiful his boyfriend is. Especially on his knees, those pretty starry eyes staring up at him through those long lashes, cheeks tinted pink with growing arousal, pretty dusty blonde hair brushing over his forehead.
He’s ethereal.
Taehyung almost groans as his cock hits the open cold air. It hardens quickly; just the sight of Jimin’s small hand and how it can barely wrap all the way around the girth of his cock is enough to drive him crazy. Even more so as both hands slide up and down his length with practiced ease, and that hot, wet mouth wraps around the tip.
“Fuck, Jimin.” He groans, hands sliding into those blonde locks, pulling lightly, just how he likes. He moans in response, the vibration against his cock coaxing a throaty groan out of him.
God, he’ll never get tired of this. No matter how many times they’ve done this, seen every inch of each other, Taehyung will still be just as mesmerized as he was the first time.
Jimin swallows around him, tongue sliding along the underside of his cock. One hand moving to squeeze his balls while the other continues stroking up and down following his mouth. He moves so effortlessly, knows exactly where and how to touch Taehyung. He knows just how to drive him crazy, knows his body inside and out, even better than Taehyung himself.
It’s so wet and sloppy; slurping sounds fill the room fast. His eyes roll to the back of his head, pleasure flooding his body so fast it’s dizzying. He can’t help it as he pushes Jimin’s head down on it, fucking his throat, loving the way he can feel it convulsing around him. Taehyung loses himself in it; his mouth is just so warm, so velvety as he pushes his cock deeper and deeper.
Jimin whines around him; one hand dropping to squeeze his thigh. Taehyung slows down, releasing his grip on those pretty blonde locks.
He pulls off with a wet pop, lips swollen and slick with spit, eyes watery from choking on it. His thumb drags across Jimin’s plump lower lip, and he looks up at him like that—pupils blown wide, lash line wet, looking undone and desperate. Time slows between them, like they’re the only people in the world.
Gorgeous. The thought hits him all at once, warm and possessive: no one else gets to see Jimin like this. Desperate, needy, so beautiful; and it’s all because of him. And only for him.
“Fuck me.” Jimin’s voice is gruff yet so needy. Taehyung groans, cock twitching in the air at the command.
“In the studio?” Taehyung asks breathlessly. Not that he has that big of a problem with it, he could never deny Jimin anything.
“Don’t make me wait.”
Jimin rises to his feet, gaze steady and unflinching. The pure need and want is present in his features; unmistakable and unapologetic.
And that’s all it takes.
Taehyung’s decision settles heavy and sure in his chest as he reaches for him, turning Jimin with ease until his body is pressed up against the console. A high whine fills the air as Taehyung presses his hard cock against his ass, watching as Jimin’s small hands curl against the edge of the console as he needs it to stay steady.
His hands move on their own, hungrily pulling the hoodie up, growling when he realizes Jimin has tiny shorts underneath. Tiny grey shorts that leave nothing to the imagination—so tight and hug every curve—the ones that have Taehyung jumping Jimin’s bones every single time. Of course, he should've known once Jimin walked through the door, that he was planning on getting bent over.
“This was your plan all along, huh?” He grunts, fingers hungry as he shoves the shorts down until they’re bunched up around Jimin’s thick thighs.
“Maybe.”
Taehyung doesn’t need to see Jimin’s face to know there’s a mischievous smile spread across it. He shakes his head, spreads those plump cheeks just to let out a tiny gasp. Lube is smeared all over his hole, clearly already stretched thoroughly. His cock lurches in the open air, begging to be inside that pretty pink hole.
Images of Jimin touching himself fill his mind; how sexy he must’ve looked stretching himself open for him. Did he have three fingers shoved inside his tight hole, trying to replicate how Taehyung makes him feel?
Or maybe he stuffed one of their many toys deep inside?
The thought drives him crazy.
“Holy shit, Jimin.” He grunts.
Jimin is impossibly sexy; it drives him wild.
Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to line himself up, pushing his tip to that pretty rim; it sucks him in greedily. It’s so hot, wet, and tight around him that the sensation has him groaning as he bottoms out.
“Fuck yes, oh my god.” He moans so prettily, already pushing back against him desperately.
Jimin reaches out blindly, palm sliding across the console for leverage as he bounces back against Taehyung’s cock. Something clicks beneath his hand, hard and mechanical, but neither of them pays it any mind. Nor do they notice the red recording light blinking to life.
“Mmh—fuck you’re so big,” Jimin gasps, feeling every single inch slide so perfectly inside him. Heat curves up his spine at the compliment despite how many times he’s heard Jimin say it.
It doesn’t take long for them to find a steady pace, their bodies moving together rhythmically. Taehyung drives his hips in deep, gripping Jimin’s curvy waist, while Jimin bounces against him—meeting every single thrust. The room is filled with the sharp slap of skin on skin, followed by Jimin’s staccato moans; short, breathy bursts that flicker into the air like sparks, carried too clearly to the microphone for either of them to notice.
“Just like that—shit,” Taehyung groans, placing a hard smack against those plump cheeks, admiring the way it jiggles in response.
A waveform flickers across the screen, even more so as Taehyung angles particularly deep and Jimin moans impossibly louder, spikes jumping in response to the sound. Taehyung's eyes flicker to the screen, but it doesn’t register. He’s too lost in the way Jimin wraps around him perfectly, like their bodies were made to fit together.
“Harder Taehyung—fuck.” Jimin is impossibly loud, voice laced with desperation. His legs are shaking with every thrust, his moans becoming whiny. He’s close; Taehyung concludes fast, knowing Jimin’s body like the back of his hand.
He wraps one hand around Jimin’s neck, squeezing just enough to pull him flush against his chest, the new angle making him sink even deeper on his cock.
“Oh—Oh yes baby, fuck—” Jimin gasps, holding onto Taehyung’s bicep now for balance. His fingernails dig deep into them hard, the pain quickly turning into pleasure.
“You feel so good,” Taehyung grunts into his ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and earning a high whine.
Taehyung thrusts deep and fast, wanting nothing more than for his lover to fall apart for him. His free hand sneaks around to take Jimin’s cock in his hand, hot and heavy in his palm. He twists his hand up and down in time with his thrusts until Jimin’s nothing but a whiny mess.
“Cumming—oh my god, I’m cumming—“
Warm, white ropes of cum paint his hand, some landing on the console board. He’s too caught up in the way Jimin constricts around him to care, his hole twitching around his cock until his orgasm is ripped from him. He comes with Jimin’s name on his tongue; his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
His hips finally slow until he finally halts to a stop, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room now.
“Mmh, that was so good.” Jimin’s voice is ragged, breath catching as he melts against Taehyung’s chest, body limp and warm in his hold.
“It’s always so good with you,” Taehyung murmurs, thumb brushing along the curve of Jimin’s shoulder before pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Jimin giggles, shaky and bright, tilting his head up for a proper kiss that leaves them both grinning. He pulls out gently, spinning Jimin in his hold until their eyes lock. Taehyung leans in again, tilts his head into it, teeth grazing, breath mingling, tongues sliding together gently.
Then another kiss, this one slower, deeper, lingering at the corner of Jimin’s mouth, and he sighs into it, tilting closer without hesitation. Taehyung presses a hand to Jimin's cheek, holding him steady as their mouths meet again, soft and messy and perfectly theirs.
They pause briefly, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, before Jimin grins mischievously.
“If we start cleaning now, maybe we’ll make it in time for dinner.”
Taehyung chuckles, pressing yet another quick kiss to Jimin’s temple, fingers brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead.
“I doubt it.”
Another quick, teasing kiss, and then, laughing softly, they finally begin packing up the studio together.
They leave the studio smiling softly, hand in hand. Inside the empty room, the red light goes dark. The computer pings once, a small notification flashing on the screen.
Track auto-saved.
♡
It’s a quiet afternoon, and everyone is still busy preparing for the new album. The others went to the studio to finish up some lines, but Jungkook wasn’t feeling up to it. So instead, he decided to stay back with Yoongi to do some editing.
He sits quietly across from Yoongi at the dining room table, rewriting some lyrics to hopefully make it flow better. The clicking sound of his keyboard fills the silent air until Yoongi’s voice breaks it.
“Jungkook-ah, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Yeah, hyung?” Jungkook hums, fingers still tapping against the keys, trying to get all his thoughts down before they slip away.
“I need you to send me all the vocals that were recorded yesterday,” Yoongi continues. “My computer’s not letting me open them for some reason.”
“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook replies easily, clicking out of his word document and clicking into the project folder, fingers flying out of habit. It’s routine work; export, compress, send. He’s done this a hundred times.
The list loads, and he pauses because there’s one more file than he expects. Jungkook frowns slightly, scrolling. There are no notes or labels, just a timestamp that reads 15:39, which is odd in itself. No single take should be that long.
“Did Taehyung record extra?” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.
Yoongi shrugs without looking up. “He stayed late yesterday. Probably another take.”
Jungkook hesitates, thumb hovering over the trackpad. He decides to double-check, making sure it’s not just silence before sending it off. He double-clicks the file, and there's no warning. No fade-in. Just the immediate sound of high-pitched moans and the rhythm of skin slapping against skin. It’s loud; it fills the room instantly in a way that makes him go stiff instantly in his chair. Yoongi startles as well, jumps upright with wide eyes.
“Harder Taehyung—fuck.”
Jimin’s voice floods through the speakers.
Jungkook freezes, chest tight, eyes wide.
“Oh god—turn it off, Jungkook.” Yoongi commands, tone wavering with slight panic.
Jungkook fumbles, fingers skidding uselessly over the keyboard, panic making his movements clumsy and slow. He misses the key, hits the wrong one, and the sound grows louder. Taehyung’s grunts blast over the speaker. There’s a loud smack, along with Taehyung’s rough voice…
“Just like that—shit.”
Jungkook’s hand flies to the spacebar, pausing the track mid-breath. His heart is pounding; his ears still feel like they’re echoing with the sounds.
Yoongi exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly mortified. Heavy silence falls over them, both too stunned to speak. Jungkook stares blankly at the screen, wondering why he’s tingly, why he wants to hear… more. Maybe let the entire audio play.
“Well.. no wonder they were late for dinner.” Yoongi deadpans, voice dry as he leans back and returns to typing on his computer. Jungkook thinks he might’ve laughed too, if there wasn’t a slow, familiar warmth pooling low in his stomach, goosebumps prickling along his arms.
“I’ll talk to them about it later,” Yoongi adds, fingers still tapping along his keyboard. “Just delete the file.”
Jungkook nods mutely, fingers trembling slightly over the keyboard as the screen blurs in front of him. He knows he should get rid of it, it’s definitely the right thing to do. He hovers over the delete option, highlighted in blue. But something in his brain is prohibiting him from pressing it.
After a moment’s hesitation, he deliberately saves the file to a personal folder and shuts his laptop a little too quickly.
“I need a break,” Jungkook says, already standing, tucking the laptop under his arm.
Yoongi glances up, studying him for a brief second before nodding. “Yeah. I don’t blame you.”
He waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, Kook. Take the rest of the day. I’ll finish up.”
Jungkook murmurs a quiet thanks and heads for his room, heart still racing long after the door clicks shut behind him.
♡
All Jungkook can think about is that file.
His thoughts are no longer his own; his brain plays those high-pitched moans on repeat. It echoes in his mind, constantly replaying on a loop that he can’t shake.
At first, he told himself he wouldn’t listen to the file again, but he couldn’t help it. The thought ate away at him; he spent the rest of the day avoiding everyone, locked away in his room, going crazy.
Now it's the next morning, and that audio is the first thing on his mind.
So that’s how he ends up sitting upright in bed, back pressed to the headboard, laptop balanced on his thighs. The headphones feel too snug around his ears as he opens the folder, cursor hovering for only a second before he clicks the file.
The progress bar barely moves before he freezes; those high-pitched moans and melodic groans instantly fill his earphones. His breath catches, fingers curling into the fabric of his sheets; caught between the guilt of playing the audio again and the intense need to keep listening.
Jungkook swallows hard, chest tightening. He knows he should stop. Knows he should close the laptop, rip the headphones off, delete the file, and pretend this never happened. Forget about everything he’s heard.
But his brain doesn’t listen.
He sits there, heart pounding, every nerve firing, painfully aware of how much it’s affecting him; his dick hardening in his pajamas, heat simmering low in his core.
“Cumming—oh my god, I’m cumming—“
Jimin’s wails fill his headphones’ speakers, along with the slick, wet sounds of him reaching his peak. He sounds so desperate, so fucked out, and it makes pleasure shock through his body like electricity. His cock is rock hard now, twitching against the bottom of the laptop.
This is wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling like this—shouldn’t be hard, shouldn’t be breathless over something that was never meant for him to hear. Such a private, intimate moment that he’s intruding on, but he can’t stop.
He doesn’t pause the recording despite his brain practically begging him to. Instead, he lets it play to the very end, listening intently to every single sound. From Jimin’s breathy moans, to Taehyung’s low growls, the wet squelching every time he thrusts in, the way they talk to each other—it’s all too much. He finds himself rutting against the laptop, desperately trying to find friction.
Desire washes over his body; the need to shove a hand down his pants and relieve himself is too strong. But he can’t. When the audio comes to an end, he shuts the laptop a little too harshly and jumps up to head for a cold shower.
Yeah, this is going to be a problem.
♡
It’s impossible to look them in the eyes.
Jungkook knew it would be hard to act normal around them after hearing such an intimate moment, but he didn’t expect it to be this difficult.
He can barely concentrate in the same room as them. Every time he glances at Jimin, those pretty high-pitched moans echo in his mind. Even worse when he looks at Taehyung; those deep grunts are imprinted in his brain.
It doesn’t help that he’s wedged between them now. Taehyung’s thigh is pressed flush against his own, warm and solid. Jimin’s arm brushes him whenever he shifts, fingers grazing his sleeve, shoulder nudging him. It’s casual, thoughtless, the kind of closeness they’ve always shared.
But Jungkook’s body doesn’t know that anymore.
Seokjin insisted on a rest day, which, according to him, meant piling everyone onto the couch and forcing them to watch a movie he’d been raving about for weeks. No studio, no excuses, no escaping. Jungkook tried anyway; he said he was tired, he’d already seen it, and even said he was feeling a little under the weather.
Seokjin didn’t care.
So now here he is, lights dimmed, the movie playing louder than necessary, Seokjin proudly settled at one end of the couch with a victorious smile spread across his face. Jungkook, unfortunately, is wedged in the middle, trapped between the two people he cannot seem to get out of his head.
Just perfect.
He’s barely paying attention to the screen. The story blurs together, dialogue turning into meaningless noise as his awareness zeroes in on everything else: Taehyung’s thigh pressed firmly against his own, solid and warm. Jimin’s shoulder brushes him whenever he shifts, arm occasionally nudging him, soft and familiar.
The group murmurs reactions to the movie; some commentary and laughter, but it all feels distant. Like static in his ears. Jungkook can’t focus on a single word, especially not with Taehyung’s arm resting on the back of the couch behind him, reaching over him to caress the nape of Jimin’s neck.
The movie continues to play, but Jungkook can’t tell you what’s happening on-screen—his entire world has narrowed to the weight of Taehyung’s arm behind him, the soft sound of fingers threading through hair, the way Jimin melts into it like it’s second nature.
Like they were made to fit together.
And Jungkook is right in the middle of it, breathing shallow, skin buzzing, painfully aware of every inch of space he doesn’t have.
Jimin shifts again, restless, clearly fighting sleep. He blinks a few times at the screen, then glances right through him, blinking at Taehyung like the decision has already been made in his head.
Without saying a word, he pushes himself up, stepping carefully over Jungkook’s legs.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, barely audible, already moving.
Jungkook barely registers the apology before the space beside him is empty, and then Jimin is dropping back down, this time straight into Taehyung’s lap. He curls in immediately, like muscle memory, tucking his face into Taehyung’s neck and pulling one of his arms around his waist.
Taehyung doesn’t even hesitate. His other arm wraps around Jimin’s back, hand settling warm and secure between his shoulder blades. He presses a soft kiss into Jimin’s hair, thumb rubbing slow, absent circles.
“Comfortable?” he asks quietly.
Jimin hums in response, already half-asleep, body going lax in Taehyung’s hold.
Jungkook stares straight ahead.
The space beside him is suddenly too open, too cold, and somehow worse than being pressed between them. He can hear it now, the soft rustle of clothes, the barely-there sounds of breathing, the faint satisfied hum Jimin makes when Taehyung’s hand drags through his hair again.
It’s nothing out of the ordinary. No one is even sparing them a glance; used to their random displays of affection. And so is Jungkook.
So why does Jungkook feel like he’s intruding on something sacred? And why is it making him all tingly inside?
The way Taehyung’s fingers curl slightly when Jimin shifts makes something spark in Jungkook’s chest. His mind betrays him instantly, filling in sounds that aren’t there; the breathy hitch, the way Jimin’s voice climbs when he’s close.
God, he can almost hear it, layered over the low hum of the TV, like a ghost pressed to his ear. He swallows hard and keeps his eyes forward.
Jimin makes a small, content noise, nothing more than a sleepy hum, and Jungkook’s pulse jumps traitorously. It’s not the sound itself. It’s the association. The knowledge of what that same mouth sounds like when he’s on the brink of an orgasm.
Taehyung tilts his head, presses a lazy kiss into Jimin’s hair. That’s all, but his mind supplies the rest; Taehyung pressing kisses against Jimin’s bare neck, coaxing those sweet sounds out of him.
They’re just being themselves, and Jungkook is the problem.
He can’t do this anymore.
Jungkook abruptly gets up from the couch, feet moving way faster than his brain, and ignores the questioning calls behind him. He beelines for his room and shuts the door behind him, taking a deep breath and resting his back against the wood.
He’s so fucked.
♡
“Baby, do you think Jungkook has been acting weird?” Jimin asks softly, voice muffled in the crook of Taehyung’s neck.
Taehyung stares at the ceiling, fingers moving on instinct as they trace slow, familiar circles into the soft skin of Jimin’s back. The question lingers longer than he expects it to.
Now that he’s thinking about it, Jungkook has been strange lately; jumpy, avoiding their eyes, like he’s constantly bracing for something. And then there was the movie. The way he’d gone stiff beside them, the way his attention kept snapping back every time Taehyung touched Jimin, like he was watching too closely and trying not to at the same time.
“Yeah,” Taehyung says finally, voice low. “Now that you mention it.
He exhales through his nose, thumb slowing against Jimin’s spine.
“Especially during the movie.” Taehyung adds.
Jimin lifts his head at that, pushing himself up just enough to look at Taehyung.
“So I wasn’t imagining it?” he says, brows knitting. “He was glaring at us.”
Taehyung lets out a quiet chuckle, more breath than sound. “Yeah,” he admits. “Not exactly subtle.”
Jimin frowns, “Hmm.. weird.”
Taehyung hums in agreement, fingers resuming their slow path along Jimin’s back as he lays back down on the bed, though his eyes stay fixed on the ceiling. Silence falls over them, like they’re both deep in thought trying to figure it out.
“We didn’t do anything, right?” Jimin lifts his head up from his chest to look at him, observing his features, lit up by the moonlight filtering through the curtains. His brows drawn together now, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
Taehyung breathes slowly, ready to say of course not, when it dawns on him.
The studio. That accidental recording. He didn’t think much of it in the moment; he was more focused on figuring out how they managed to hit the record button in the first place than on Yoongi’s warning. He has seen much worse from them; caught them in compromising positions way too many times to count, so he really paid it no mind. But now the words come back to him, sharp and clear.
You two need to be more careful. I’m used to your sexcapades, but Jungkook isn’t. Pretty sure he’s scarred after opening one of your files.
His hand stills on Jimin’s back.
“Oh shit,” he says under his breath.
Jimin pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry, “What?”
“Remember when Yoongi-hyung lectured us about that recording?”
“Yeah, what about it?” Jimin asks.
“He said Jungkook heard it too.”
The silence that falls over them is heavy. Jimin just stares at him for a moment, processing. Then his mouth parts slowly, disbelief flickering across his face before something else slips in underneath it.
“Oh.”
Taehyung watches the reaction carefully, bracing for panic, embarrassment, or anything.
Instead, Jimin lets out a soft, incredulous laugh, “No wonder why he can’t look us in the eyes.”
Taehyung huffs a quiet chuckle in response, shaking his head. He can’t believe neither of them put it together sooner. Jimin exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, amusement fading into something gentler.
“We should apologize tomorrow,” he says. “Properly.”
“Yeah, we should,” Taehyung nods, pulling Jimin back to his chest and closing his eyes.
♡
Jungkook can’t resist anymore. It’s been three days, and that audio is still plaguing his mind; he actually feels like he’s going insane. So that’s how he finds himself underneath his covers, listening to it again. He saved the file onto his phone, the sound flowing through the speakers.
He was too lazy to find his headphones, preferring to turn the volume up enough so it softly fills the space around him. It’s probably a bad idea, but he doubts anyone can hear it besides him. It just can’t wait; he needs to listen just one more time. And that’s it, just needs to get it out of his system.
But once he hears those pretty breathy moans and the melodic slap of skin on skin, his cock is straining against his boxers. It throbs against the material, begging for attention. Subconsciously, his hand slides downwards, past the hard plane of his abs, squeezing the forming bulge and relieving the pressure.
Shame and guilt bubble up; he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be so worked up over his best friend’s having sex. It’s so wrong.
But God, the desire is stronger.
“Just like that—shit.” Taehyung groans flood the speakers; a hard smack immediately follows. The sound of skin slapping against skin and Jimin’s breathy whines flow through the speaker; his cock throbbing harder.
He pictures it as he listens, how Jimin’s ass must ripple against Taehyung’s thighs. He’s always noticed how plump it is, but never put any thought into how beautiful it must look while being split open on Taehyung’s cock.
And God, does he want to experience it firsthand.
He imagines himself between them. What it would be like if he got to experience Taehyung’s cock for himself, see what has Jimin practically screaming with pleasure. Or maybe he could fuck Jimin, feel how tight he is, make him moan just like Taehyung does.
The thought has a wet spot forming in his boxers where the tip is resting. He slips a hand underneath the material, fingers instinctively wrapping around the thick length, tugging slightly. Relief floods his body; this is just what he has been craving.
Jungkook whimpers as he starts a slow pace, sliding his hand up and down with practiced ease. Pleasure builds rapidly as he twists his hand around his cock, and their melodic grunts and moans fill the air around him.
He’s so immersed in it that he doesn’t hear the rapping of knuckles against his door. Or the second knock and a call of his name that comes after a few seconds.
The door swings open after a minute of silence, Jungkook still immersed in the audio to even notice; the outside world muted.
“Hey, we—” Taehyung’s deep voice slices through the air, snapping Jungkook back into reality.
Jungkook startles violently, heart leaping into his throat. He’s moving too fast, removing his hand from his underwear and the blanket from over his head. His phone slips from his hand amidst the chaos—clattering against the floor.
And the audio keeps playing loud and clear, the sound echoing off the wooden tiles. It’s unmistakable, no way to hide what he was just doing.
For a split second, Jungkook can’t think. He’s too mortified to do anything; blink, breathe, speak, even move.
“I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” His voice cracks, useless to keep going. There’s no explanation anyway, nothing he can say to make this better.
Taehyung’s eyes flick from the phone to Jungkook, something unreadable crossing his face. Shock flashes across it, but it doesn’t stay there; turns into something else. Jimin swallows, cheeks flushed, gaze glued to the device like he can’t quite believe it.
Then Taehyung quietly closes the door behind them. The sound cuts off as Taehyung crosses the room, picks up the phone, and stops the track. The silence that follows is deafening. It gets tossed on the bed, landing beside him.
Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, embarrassment scorching his cheeks a deep red, “I didn’t mean to—I know it’s weird, I shouldn’t have—”
“Hey,” Jimin says softly, hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay.”
When did he get so close?
Jungkook opens his eyes, chest tightening when he realizes that they’re both much closer now, not giving him much space to breathe. It’s overwhelming; their mutual gaze boring into his head, the smell of their cologne taking over his senses. Taehyung’s towering over him with wild eyes, expression unreadable. Jimin, on the other hand, is clearly embarrassed, yet curiosity bleeds through his features.
“You… really listened to it that much?” Jimin asks, tilting his head.
Jungkook can hear his pulse thrumming in his ears. He nods, shame burning hot in his chest. “I couldn’t get it out of my head. I tried. I swear I tried.”
“No wonder why you’ve been acting like that,” Taehyung exhales slowly, his gaze dark and thoughtful.
“Oh God, was it that obvious?” Jungkook wants to shrink in on himself.
Taehyung moves first, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t crowd him, doesn’t touch him, just grounds the moment.
“If you liked it that much,” he says, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s face, “you could’ve just told us.” His voice is low, deep in a way that makes his body tingle.
Jungkook’s heart stutters violently. Surely he misheard that.
“…What?”
Jimin’s embarrassment is gone now, replaced with something confident, almost teasing. He joins Taehyung on the bed, close but not pressing, gaze steady and unflinching.
“Don’t let us stop you,” he says softly.
The words hang there in the air, the intent unmistakable. Jungkook’s mind blanks completely. He swallows hard; his throat suddenly feels dry and tight. He looks between them; Taehyung is calm and steady, Jimin is openly watching him, waiting expectantly.
“Are you serious?” he asks finally. His voice barely carries, soft and uncertain. It feels like he’s dreaming; this is something he’s been thinking about over and over again. Now here they are, in front of him, offering what he’s been obsessing over.
Surely, they’re messing with him.
For a split second, neither of them answers. Jimin’s expression softens first. He scoots a little closer, but still leaves space, giving Jungkook room to breathe.
“Of course, we wouldn’t joke about something like that.” Jimin says softly.
Taehyung nods in agreement. “If this makes you uncomfortable, we’ll stop. Right now.”
Jungkook’s chest feels like it might cave in on itself. His fingers twist into the sheets, nerves buzzing under his skin.
“I just— I didn’t think… I mean, you guys aren’t mad?”
“No,” Jimin says immediately, both shaking their heads. “We recorded it by accident. That’s on us.” His lips twitch, just slightly. “But, we don’t mind if you liked it.”
Taehyung watches Jungkook closely, eyes dark but patient.
“We came to apologize,” he admits. “We thought you were uncomfortable with us. Turns out it was the opposite.”
Jungkook lets out a shaky breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “I didn’t know what to do,” he confesses. “Every time I looked at you, my brain just—”
“Went there?” Jimin hums softly, understanding lighting his eyes.
Jungkook nods, face burning. Another quiet beat passes. The air feels thick now, heavy with possibility.
Taehyung shifts just enough that their knees brush. “So, why don’t you keep going?”
God, Jungkook can feel his cock stiffening up all over again, heat pooling in his stomach.
“Keep going?” He can’t believe his ears.
Taehyung reaches for the discarded phone from where it landed on the bed, and presses it back into Jungkook’s palm. His fingers linger for half a second too long.
“Go on,” he says, tone calm and dominating. “Show us what you were doing before we came in.”
Their eyes are glued to him, waiting expectantly. Jungkook gulps, throat dry. He unlocks the phone, the track paused midway through; his chest tightens at the timestamp alone. He hesitates, then glances up, searching their faces for any sign of regret. There’s none. Just curiosity, heat, and anticipation.
He presses play; the room fills instantly with the sounds of sex. Skin slapping against skin, high moans, and deep grunts. The kind of sounds that feels like it doesn’t belong anywhere but between them. Jungkook’s breath stutters. He keeps his eyes on the screen, pulse roaring in his ears, painfully aware of the fact that they’re listening with him now. That they’re watching him listen.
His dick throbs against his boxers, a whine threatening to burst out of his throat. His hips buck up slightly as Jimin moans Taehyung's name in the audio, craving friction. He doesn’t miss the way Jimin’s smile turns slow and knowing, or how Taehyung’s gaze darkens like he wants more.
“Hmm, show us your favorite part,” Taehyung says, voice deep and sending a shiver down his spine. Jimin moves closer, practically sitting in Taehyung’s lap, his arm wrapping around Jimin’s slim waist with ease.
Jungkook’s pulse is thundering in his ears, an erotic blush forming on his cheeks. He nods, fast forwarding to this one part he can’t get out of his head.
“You feel so good.” Taehyung’s voice booms through the speaker, sound getting even louder as Jimin moans in response. They’re breathy, each one louder than the last, filling the air around them.
It’s embarrassing how his cock twitches at the sound, even more so how both their eyes are glued to the movement. Jungkook doesn’t miss the way Jimin rocks slowly in his boyfriend’s lap, Taehyung’s grip tightening around his waist.
“You like how pretty I sound when I moan?” Jimin asks, bottom lip pulled between his teeth.
The arousal is clear across his features, and fuck does it make his cock throb even harder. Taehyung too, his eyes dark and hips subtly bucking upwards.
Jungkook whines, nodding so fast it’s almost embarrassing. They don’t seem to mind; if anything, it only makes them look more pleased, eyes dark and intent.
The moans are still playing softly in the background as Jungkook takes in the sight in front of him: the slow roll of Jimin’s hips, the way Taehyung’s hand slides down to Jimin’s thigh and squeezes possessively.
The sounds grow louder, closer, filling the room until Jungkook’s breath stutters. Because it’s not coming from the phone anymore; it’s Jimin.
“Fuck,” Taehyung groans, hands sliding fully to Jimin’s waist, guiding the slow grind down against him.
Jimin reaches out without looking, fingers gracefully locking the phone. The sound cuts off mid-moan, replaced instantly by the soft, real noises they’re making now; deep breaths, fabric of the sheets shifting, the faint creak of the bed.
The air is suddenly too hot; Jungkook is struggling to breathe. His fantasies from the past couple of days are now coming true right in front of him.
Jimin slides off the bed, slow and deliberate, stopping right in front of Jungkook. He tilts his head, eyes bright with something knowing, dangerous.
“Let’s give you something to watch instead,” he murmurs. “Hm?”
Jungkook’s heart slams against his ribs. His phone feels forgotten in his hand now, useless compared to the way they’re looking at him.
He nods a little too enthusiastically, but they’re too far gone to care. They’re moving instantly; Taehyung’s hands find Jimin’s waist again and push down until he’s bent over the edge of the mattress, ass poked out in a way that makes Jungkook breathless.
Taehyung fills the space fast; thick bulge pressing between his cheeks, a high whine leaving Jimin’s throat. He ruts against him, and Jungkook watches in awe as Jimin pushes back against him like he can’t help it. His mouth waters, greedy eyes don’t know whether to focus on how big Taehyung’s cock is or how Jimin’s ass jiggles at the slightest movement.
“See this?” Taehyung says, gaze flicking to him now, eyes clouded with lust. “This is why that track got recorded in the first place.”
His grip tightens around his waist, other hand slaps his ass.
“'Cause he’s so desperate for my cock,” Taehyung murmurs. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes—please, Taehyung—”
God, Jimin sounds so whiny. He really is desperate, grinding his ass back against his boyfriend with a high whimper.
Jungkook barely registers the moment his hand moves, palm settling over the bulge in his boxers like it’s acting on instinct alone. The sight in front of him steals every coherent thought. This—them—in his bed. It doesn’t feel real, and he doesn’t want it to stop.
“Go ahead, touch yourself,” Taehyung says, eyes on him again. Jungkook shivers at the command, hand instantly sinking beneath the material of his boxers.
He gasps as his hand slides up and down his length slowly, watching as Taehyung pulls down Jimin’s pants, the material bunching around those thick thighs. The sight knocks all the air out of his lungs; his skin looks so soft, ass plump and pretty, with stretch marks running across it.
God, he’s so beautiful.
“He’s so pretty, right?” Taehyung asks as his hands roam his ass, thumb catching the rim. Jungkook’s nodding before he’s even finished the sentence, beyond eager.
Taehyung pulls down his own pants, wrapping a hand around his cock and giving it a couple of strokes. Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sight. He always knew Taehyung was packing, could tell just from the outline in his shorts, but he’s never seen him like this.
It’s flushed red and leaking, veins running across it, thick and wide in a way that makes Jungkook wonder how Jimin fits that inside of him.
He watches as Taehyung pushes in with ease into Jimin’s hole; the loud squelch of lube sounds in the room. They must’ve had sex already today, judging by the way his rim gives in easily for each inch of his thick cock; no resistance at all. Jimin’s eyes flutter back, soft moans leave his full lips, and his fingernails dig into the sheets.
Taehyung’s hips snap forward, and Jungkook can’t look away. The ripple through Jimin’s ass is hypnotizing; soft, helpless motion following every sharp thrust.
It’s not long before they fall into a rhythm, and Jungkook fucks into his fist at the same pace, whimpering softly as he watches. His eyes are glued to the way they move together, Jimin starting to bounce back to meet every thrust, Taehyung angling his hips to hit all the spots that make Jimin scream.
And Jimin is loud.
Impossibly loud. The tape didn’t do him justice; every single moan hangs in the air, and Jungkook’s sure it can be heard through the walls. But none of them can bring themselves to care, too lost in it.
“Fuck, so deep, so good—“ Jimin moans out, eyes locking with his own. Another whimper leaves Jungkook’s throat, hand moving impossibly faster around his cock. Pleasure is thrumming throughout him, thighs quivering as he feels that familiar heat curl low in his stomach.
He thought the audio had ruined him. He was wrong. Seeing it happen, right in front of him, burns the image into him in a way sound never could. The way Jimin’s eyes are rolled to the back of his head, fingers digging into the mattress, plush lips gaping open, back arched perfectly.
And then there’s Taehyung; dark hair damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead, muscles flexing with every movement. Jungkook can’t look away as that thick cock disappears into Jimin without hesitation. Those thoughts of trying it for himself reappear in his head, a high whine leaving his throat as he imagines it. He doubts it would even fit inside; it would split him open.
“I’m—fuck—” Jimin sounds so fucked out; his voice is raw from the way he’s been abusing it.
Taehyung grunts, thrusting particularly hard into Jimin, making him cry out. The whole bed is shaking, creaking under them as he picks up the pace. Jungkook’s grip around his cock tightens as he matches their rhythm.
Goosebumps form on his skin as Jimin’s moans reach an all-time high, along with the wet sound of his cum splattering all over the sheets underneath him. The sound has Jungkook’s cock throbbing, soft whines leaving his mouth as he fists his cock faster. Taehyung is close behind, judging by the loud grunts and the way his fingers tighten around Jimin’s tapered waist. With a curse, he thrusts in deep and stills, thighs shaking as he releases.
Jungkook shouldn’t be this affected, shouldn’t feel heat coil so tightly in his stomach just from watching. But the way they fit together perfectly, the way Jimin’s hips roll to ride him through it, the way Taehyung loses control; it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
Time slows as their bodies come to a stop, and Taehyung pulls out slowly, pressing a lingering kiss to Jimin’s shoulder as he catches his breath. Jimin turns in his arms, smiling softly, fingertips brushing Taehyung’s cheek tenderly before placing a quick kiss on his lips.
The room is quiet for a second. Just breathing.
And then their gaze meets Jungkook; hand still wrapped firmly around himself. Jimin’s eyes follow the movement, tongue wetting his bottom lip.
“Looks like you could use some help.” He says, both of them staring hungrily. It’s almost embarrassing how fast he nods, dick throbbing just from the idea.
If they notice, nothing is said. Instead, they close the distance, Jimin settles on one side of him, Taehyung on the other—boxing him in without ever touching him yet. Jimin reaches for him first, small warm hand covering his as if asking for permission.
He gives a subtle nod this time, and Jimin replaces his hand with his own; and just the feeling of someone besides himself touching his cock after so long has his head lulling back, eyes fluttering closed, and a curse rolling off his tongue.
“Hm, so sensitive,” Taehyung observes, Jimin softly humming in agreement. He starts moving his hand up and down slowly, while Taehyung shifts closer, his hand settling low on Jungkook’s waist.
The added warmth—the weight of him—makes Jungkook gasp before he can stop himself. A sound he didn’t even know he could make leaves his throat as the hand slips down to his balls, caressing and squeezing lightly. The dual sensation is almost too much; the pressure that was already building in his core returns.
“Fuck.” Jungkook moans, self-control completely gone—body reacting before his brain can even catch up. He bucks up into Jimin’s hand, pleased when he twists along the length just right, even more so as Taehyung squeezes his balls tighter.
Jimin leans forward and takes his cock in his mouth, tongue flicking across the slit. It’s wet, warm, and so good that he instantly moans, eyes hitting the back of his head. And if that wasn’t enough, he feels another mouth on him—Taehyung licks a stripe across his balls before taking them in.
He’s already gotten himself so worked up that he’s not surprised to feel the coil threaten to snap once he feels that dual warm wet sensation wrapped around him. It’s too much; his thighs shake as the pleasure becomes intense.
“Shit—wait—“ Jungkook moans loudly, fingers flying to Jimin’s blonde locks, pulling gently to signal him to pull off.
And he does just in time, the orgasm rolls through his body relentlessly, ropes of cum landing everywhere; Jimin’s hand, the sheets, his own thighs. He strokes him through it, soft moans filling the space around them as Jungkook comes down from his high.
Soon, they both slow their movements, pulling off softly and looking at him.
“Do you want more?” Jimin’s voice comes out so sultry it sends a chill down his spine. It doesn’t help that they’re both staring expectantly with dark, lust-filled eyes.
He’s nodding before he even realizes it, beyond eager. Jungkook wants them in so many ways; been thinking about it ever since he first heard the audio, and now that he has them in front of him, he doesn’t want it to end.
“What do you want, Jungkook-ah?” Taehyung asks, one hand caressing his thigh, the other on Jimin’s.
He knows exactly what he wants, but just the thought of saying it aloud makes his cheeks burn. His eyes flick to Taehyung’s crotch; cock still out and glistening with the remnants of lube and cum, and fuck, it’s huge even when not fully hard. He looks away, cheeks turning more red by the second.
“I know what he wants,” Jimin’s eyes sparkle, corners of his lips perking up, “You wanna try Taehyung’s cock for yourself, don’t you?”
Fuck, is it that obvious?
He whimpers, hides his face in the crook of his arm.
Taehyung hums softly. “Is that so?”
His thumb drags lazily along Jungkook’s thigh.
“Then let him say it.”
Heat curls low in his belly, arousal already building back up.
“I— I want your cock—please.”
God, he feels so pathetic saying it out loud, especially with the way his voice quivers. He sounds so desperate, probably because he is.
He removes his arm from his face just in time to catch the way Taehyung looks over at Jimin, as if he’s asking for permission.
Jimin nods with a sweet smile before turning back to Jungkook, “And where do you want me?”
The answer comes automatically, “On my face.”
It hits him a second too late—what he just said, how it sounded. No hesitation, no shame, and so desperate. His cheeks are blooming with color like his body’s just catching up to the words his mouth spilled without permission. They like it though, reveling in how shameless he is, and they’re moving before he can even blink.
Taehyung gently grips his thighs and spreads them wider, leaning in close, while Jimin climbs over him, one knee pressing into the mattress on either side, caging him in gently.
“Lube?” Taehyung asks, and Jungkook weakly points to the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed, hoping he’ll follow the movement. He’s too focused on the sight above him; Jimin’s soft, plump cheeks are hovering over his face.
His mouth is watering just looking at it, licking his lips in anticipation. He doesn’t even notice the wet prodding sensation at his entrance, because Jimin lowers himself down onto his face at the same time, and Jungkook swears he ascends into heaven.
He doesn’t hesitate to spread open those thick cheeks, revealing his puffy pink hole with Taehyung’s cum still smeared all over it, some dripping out. Jungkook pulls him down all the way, and greedily licks it all up, sticking his tongue deep into it to get it all; already addicted to the sweet, salty taste.
“Oh fuck, Jungkook—“ Jimin moans, leaning forward and gripping his thighs for balance. Jungkook moans, from hearing the sound of his name on Jimin’s tongue and from the way the tip of Taehyung’s finger slips into his hole.
He moans into Jimin, gripping the fat of his ass like his life depends on it. The weight of him sitting on his face, the way his mouth and nose are buried in his, ass and he can barely breathe has his cock twitching against his stomach.
“Mmh, his tongue is so deep, Tae,” Jimin moans out, sounding completely wrecked.
“Yeah?” Taehyung murmurs, voice low and steady, “Feels good, baby?”
He gets a hum in response, then Jungkook hears the soft, unmistakable sound of their lips meeting. His stomach flips at the sound, breath hitching as their kiss turns rushed and heated and neither of them stop touching him.
Jimin's moans are muffled into his boyfriend’s mouth, grinding down onto Jungkook’s lips until all coherent thoughts are stripped from his brain. It’s just a stream of curses, and the desire to make Jimin feel good.
Taehyung pushes his finger in deeper, thrusting it in slowly in a way that leaves him craving more. He rocks down onto the digit and starts to whine now in hopes Taehyung will get the message.
“Hmm, he’s desperate, just like you, baby,” Taehyung says after their lips part, along with a dark chuckle. He hears Jimin whine, grinding down a little harder now. He’s right. Jungkook has never felt this desperate—this impatient—and it’s all because of them.
He needs more.
Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait much longer because there’s a nudge of another finger pushing in. He cries out, body spasming as he’s stretched open; pain quickly dissolving into pleasure. His hips start to move on their own, back and forth against his fingers, his ass meeting Taehyung’s hand, creating a wet smack echoing in the room.
God, it’s so hot, the way they’re all moving in the perfect rhythm, so in sync like they’ve done this before. Taehyung's fingers are like magic; he finds his prostate effortlessly, pressing against it and making his body tingle. Only two fingers in and he’s a whimpering mess, moaning uncontrollably into Jimin’s pretty hole.
And Jimin fucking loves it. He’s got both hands gripping his thighs for balance as he pushes back, practically bouncing on it. The sight is heavenly; the recoil is fucking insane, those plump cheeks jiggling in his face at every slight movement.
Jungkook’s tongue never stops moving, thrusting in deep as if he wants to imprint the taste of Jimin in his brain forever.
It’s not long before he feels the blunt tip nudge at his entrance.
“Ready?” Taehyung asks.
Jungkook hums, incapable of forming words. It’d be inaudible anyway, muffled by the weight of Jimin’s ass.
Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to push in, his thick, blunt tip breaching his hole. He gasps into Jimin, and his hips buck up into the air.
It’s been months since his last hookup, months since he’s had hands roaming his body, someone filling him up. So it’s not surprising when the stretch burns a little, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and soft, breathy moans come tumbling out of his mouth. It’s exactly what he expected; Taehyung’s cock absolutely splits him open in the most delicious way. The pain turns to pleasure so fast it’s dizzying.
“Relax,” Taehyung says gently, warm hands caressing his inner thighs as he buries into the hilt. Jungkook tries; lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, eyes rolling as Taehyung pushes in all the way.
He’s so fucking full.
For a few minutes, he doesn't move, allowing Jungkook to get used to the stretch while Jimin uses his face, grinding down as his life depends on it. He could get used to this, to being between two people. Something about it electrifies the already intense pleasure coursing through his veins.
Taehyung starts to move, deep, shallow movements that knock the breath out of Jungkook’s lungs. He’s huge; he can feel Taehyung everywhere. Every single movement sends pleasure coursing through his body. Shit, he can even feel the thick veins dragging along his walls. His brain turns off, body moving out of pure instinct as he grinds down to meet every stroke.
He sets a soft pace at first, rocking his hips gently and allowing Jungkook to get used to it.
Soon, Taehyung snaps his hips with purpose, driving right into Jungkook’s prostate until he’s practically screaming around Jimin’s hole.
The room fills with obscene sounds; the slapping of skin, the bed creaking underneath them, their melodic moans and grunts, and the wet sounds of him sucking Jimin’s hole, so loud despite being muffled
A wave of pleasure shudders through Jungkook as Taehyung lifts one of his thick thighs, resting his leg on his shoulder, and slides in even deeper. Jungkook inhales deeply as his pace becomes ruthless. His grip on Jungkook’s hips is bruising tight as he begins to pound into him, hard and deep, hitting just the right spot with every single thrust. His eyes roll with every single drag of that thick cock against his walls.
God, it’s everything he’s ever wanted.
His fingers slide up Jimin’s thighs, smooth and warm beneath his palms, wrapping around to his ass to squeeze as he spreads him open further, shoving his tongue even deeper. Jimin squeezes his thighs tight as his moans rise higher and higher, hips moving faster.
“Mmh, is my baby going to cum?” Taehyung asks, voice breathy but pace never faltering.
Fuck.
“Fuck—yes—“ He whines, bouncing again, eliciting a groan from Jungkook. His cock twitches against his stomach, wanting nothing more than to make Jimin reach his peak.
“Go ahead, cum on his tongue.”
It’s fascinating, really, how fast Jimin comes undone from the command. Once the words leave Taehyung’s mouth, Jimin writhes with pleasure, crying out as his cock spills ropes of cum between their bodies.
“Mhmm—that’s it, baby,” Taehyung moans, pushing their mouths together, the wet smack of their lips meeting fills the room again.
Taehyung slams in harder, faster, hitting just right, and at the same time, Jimin’s small hand finds his dick, stroking just right. It’s like he knows just how to get him off, twisting his wrist so well, letting his thumb dip into the slit, using the precum to make the slide wetter. It’s good, too good, and it’s enough to make him shatter.
A choked cry tries to escape his throat as his whole body locks up, pleasure spilling over into every inch of his body, his orgasm crashing through him. His eyes roll back, whole body twitching underneath them as he comes undone; cum squirting all over his stomach.
Distantly, he hears a curse before he’s suddenly empty, warmth spilling across his abdomen. The feeling—being covered in all of their cum—makes him shiver. He’s beyond satisfied, limbs heavy and body pleasantly spent.
For a while, they just lie there together, a tangle of bodies pressed close as they catch their breath.
Time passes so quickly that he barely registers it. The next thing he knows, Jimin is hovering over him with a wet cloth, gently cleaning him up while Taehyung tugs his clothes back into place. He half expects them to leave. He doesn’t really know how this kind of thing is supposed to work, and he’s far too tired to ask. Maybe this was just a one-time thing. Maybe they’ll laugh about it tomorrow. Maybe they’ll pretend it never happened.
Still, a quiet, greedy part of him hopes they won’t. Hopes that maybe they could do it again…and again…and again.
But they don’t leave.
Instead, they clean themselves up, pulling their clothes back on before slipping back into bed and curling up beside him.
“Mind if we stay?” Jimin’s quiet voice breaks the peaceful silence, and Jungkook is nodding embarrassingly fast.
“Please,” Jungkook murmurs softly, his eyes fluttering shut.
He barely feels it when Jimin tugs the blanket up over them, and Taehyung pulls him a little closer between them.
This is definitely something Jungkook could get used to.