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The elevator doors close behind him. Silence falls save for the hum of machinery and muffled jazz music, the familiar mirrored walls gilded with white gold surrounding him. He glances to the side at his reflection, loosening his black tie ever so slightly, ruffling his equally dark slicked-back hair. Dark strands fall over his tired eyes as he checks his silver watch, its hands indicating it’s much later than he said he would arrive, but a job like his guarantees no planned nights. It’s unpredictable, emergencies can pop up at any time of the day.

Speaking of, he pulls his phone out with the sole purpose of shutting it down, not wanting to be pestered by anyone, not even work. He made it clear he will be out of contact for the next two days, and has important plans that will take up all of his time. Out of touch with the rest of the world, disappearing off of its surface to properly enjoy his short layoff. One of many he takes when work gets to his head and he needs to blow off steam. Holding the title of Director of the N.I.S has its perks, one of them being he can rely on the competent colleagues below and around him to hold the fort while he’s gone. A man of his stature is trusted and looked up to, especially since he’s the youngest to ever hold that position in the agency, which only makes it easier to take a couple of days off for rest every now and then. He can afford it in all definitions of the term.

Scrolling through his phone, he makes sure all the necessary orders are given out and important files transferred, then checks his stocks to ensure that next month's paycheck will be able to cover the plans he has in mind for his next, rather extravagant vacation. Private jet reservations are only getting pricier, and it’s rare that he ever travels alone. He deletes a text message from his mom asking how a rich, successful man like him can’t even get a wife and finally shuts it off with a sigh.

It’s been a long day, and the answer to such a question is waiting for him at home.

The doors open with a sharp ding, attention taken forward. He walks underneath the teardrop chandelier of the penthouse’s vast, black and white lobby and stops next to two pairs of shoes he easily recognizes. He bends down to place them in a neat line and discards his own to slip into another pair. Black leather and sturdy soles like the rest of his collection, but the difference with these is that they always stay inside.

The front door is ajar, and he pushes it open only to be faced with vacant quarters. Amber light fills the open room from the cascading crystal fixtures above the dining table, a distant glow coming from deeper inside the apartment and the city's shining lights illuminating his path. The windowed wall gives onto the ever-impressive Gangnam district, the tallest skyscrapers circled by kaleidoscope flickers zooming down restless roads. Neon signs beckoning passersby to splurge on luxurious items they don’t need or enter booming clubs to binge on watered-down liquor and forget all about the stress of the real world. Around this time, they must be packed, nightlife never quite ceasing in these parts of the city.

It’s not very appealing to him, though. He never really was one to go out, even at a younger age, too busy climbing his way up the ranks. He prefers more… private forms of entertainment. A man of simple taste, really.

He walks in slowly, pulling a chair at the end of the dining table, facing the rest of the room. Sitting down, he sets his briefcase on the glass surface and dials in the six-number code to open it. His fingers curl around a gun, a sleek model custom-made for him, his initials carved on the side of the barrel. Cold metal against his skin, heavy in his palm. With a long, drawn-out sigh, he removes the magazine and pulls the slide back, making sure it’s unloaded. He scatters the main components over the surface to individually clean their exterior with a black silk cloth, nothing too thorough, just surface maintenance. A routine he never breaks, methodical to the bone.

“Jimin?” A voice asks at the end of the hallway.

He clears his throat twice, a recognizable signal, but stays focused on his task. Hasted footsteps echo, coming closer and closer. The chime of metal, some giggles.

“Daddy?” Another voice tries.

Jimin takes a deep breath, gaze unwavering. That word never fails to make heat bleed into the pit of his stomach. A different ache for control settling in, a need to order and toy with. Excitement sparks throughout his system, heartbeat picking up in speed. Just the sound of their voice is enough to stir him.

He’s been thinking about this all day long.

The pair steps in just as he’s pushing the magazine back in the gun, and he can’t keep himself from looking up. Fluttering warmth blossoms in his chest as his eyes caress every single inch of their bodies, darkening within seconds at the sight of what they’ve clad themselves with. They both look like the most luxurious escorts one could afford, dripping in jewels and expensive fabrics. Flawless, smooth skin and perfectly coiffed hair, a hint of makeup to accentuate their natural beauty.

Spoiled rotten by none other than Jimin himself.

He swallows hard and puts the gun back in his briefcase, closing it shut a bit too harshly.

Taehyung is the first to walk across the living room, sporting his ever-present salacious grin. He moves gracefully in his black lace ensemble, matching sheer socks and garters digging in the plump of his thighs. Hips swaying from side to side, showing more of his tight panties with every step. It’s a shame he’s wearing a plain shirt over the lingerie, but at least its collar is low enough for Jimin to catch glimpses of the matching lace bralette hugging his broad chest. Traces of Jimin’s harsh touch linger on his golden skin, at the crook of his neck and around his wrists. A closer look would unveil more discoloration between his thighs, but Jimin’s eyes are compelled to admire his other possession.

Namjoon follows close behind, and the first thing Jimin notices is the thick diamond choker he bought him a week ago and hasn’t taken off since. His outfit is less provocative than Taehyung’s but equally enthralling, a long, silk silver robe hanging over his shoulders, exposing their smooth width. The mystery of what he might be wearing underneath only entices Jimin all the more. Perhaps he’s completely naked, or maybe he wrapped his thick thighs in diamond-encrusted chains, connected them to his pierced nipples like he’s done many times before, one of Jimin’s favorite looks. Namjoon has a bit of a fixation for the gem, collects pieces to decorate every single part of his body with them, and Jimin can only provide. They look breathtaking against his darker complexion, especially when he sheens his skin with matching glimmers. A constellation Jimin could observe for hours on end.

He aches to unwrap both of his presents, and they know that. They know how he likes to take it painfully slow, tease and taunt until they’re both on the verge of tears, teetering the threshold of delirium. Keep the clothes on for as long as he can, until they’re in the way of his desires, of patches of skin he aches to taste and mark. Jimin likes to play for hours on end, can stretch it out for entire days if he so desires, greedy to the bone. There is no limit to his appetite when it comes to those two.

Two men eagerly wait for him to come back from work almost every night of the week. To say he’s blessed is an understatement.

And now he has them for three entire days.

Tall and broad with strong features, sharp cheekbones, and thick necks, wearing some of the most expensive sets of lingerie on the market. Most of it custom-made to perfectly hug their athletic builds, luxurious fabrics like mulberry silk and hand-woven lace, some with rare jewels stitched in. He remembers how stirred he was in those private dressing rooms, watching them get measured atop a platform by some of the best tailors in the world, half-naked and on display for him to admire. Namjoon and Taehyung playing dress-up and drinking champagne, giggling and teasing each other under Jimin’s watchful, darkened gaze. Seeing other hands touch them, wrapping a measuring tape around their thighs and slim waists made him twitch at first, a possessive tendency instinctively kicking in, but it was worth it in the end with the magnificent ensembles that came out of it.

Worth every tens of thousands. Only the best for Jimin’s sugar babies.

Jimin really likes contrast. The clash of masculinity and femininity, black and white, soft and rough, dark and light. And what he sees tip-toeing closer to him makes it hard not to take them right at that moment.

Their relationship is complicated, but it’s also really simple. They enjoy each other's company, have had undeniable sexual chemistry from the start, and Jimin relishes in spoiling them rotten. The high-end luxuries adorning them and newfound lavish way of life are enough proof of that. Jimin doesn’t have the time nor the energy to deal with normal relationships with a job like his, so he figured this would be the best solution to cure his lingering loneliness.

But that does not mean he does not care about Namjoon and Taehyung. Jimin would, without hesitation, draw a gun on anyone who dares lay a hand on them.

They know each other through and through, the sole topic of conversation off the table being Jimin’s job. They do know where he works, how high his rank is, even know about the business he does on the side, but never pick at any details. There is no need to discuss it as his career does not affect their relationship in the slightest, and they understand the importance of their silence with the extensive contract of confidentiality they had to sign one year ago. Jimin did not hold back on the clauses, made it clear how severe the legal repercussions would be if they were to bring their affair to the public eye. As much as he did not enjoy the underlying threat behind it, it was necessary, for his own security. Not many would approve of a gay man directing the country’s chief intelligence agency, unfortunately.

Apart from that, they’re open with one another on all levels, communication the number one priority in their relationship. They have spent entire days just chatting about everything and nothing, covering all possible topics. Jimin likes the way Taehyung and Namjoon think, it was one of the main factors that brought them together, made the pair stand out from the rest. There were plenty of pretty boys out there, a sea of them for Jimin to choose from, but not that many shared an interesting vision of the world as those two did. They hit it off immediately; Jimin knew after the first night that they would be a perfect match and called his lawyers to type up a contract just hours after their meeting.

And one year later, they’re still as enthralled with one another as that first night. All three of them can read each other without the need for words and share every passing thought.

Which is why Jimin knows exactly where this scene will go.

“It seems you’ve started without me,” Jimin says calmly, quirking a brow.

It’s obvious enough. There’s an empty bottle of champagne atop the kitchen’s marble island counter, half-emptied flutes in their hands, slow R&B playing in the distant background—most likely Jimin’s bedroom. Hair disheveled and cheeks flushed, lips swollen dark pink. Even the way they’re moving, lascivious in every slight shift, gazes seductive. The smallest detail is the faint wrinkle to their clothes, bunched up at the hips where a hand might have clutched. It all adds up, they were most definitely all up on each other minutes ago, still at it when Jimin was riding the elevator. Just imagining it riles him up, his two babies so needy they can’t even patiently wait for him, grinding against each other and moaning messily in the other’s mouth.

Nothing can escape Jimin’s eyes. It is what he was trained for.

“We didn’t mean to,” Namjoon tries, nibbling his bottom lip, “but then you texted that you’d be running late so we figured we’d get a head start—”

Jimin’s head snaps up. “Did I say you could?”

Both of them swallow hard. “No, you didn’t,” Taehyung answers with a smirk. Namjoon presses his lips into a thin line, feigning a pout.

The two are definitely up to no good. Jimin knows Taehyung’s a brat, he figured that one out in the first minutes they met, and he somehow always manages to pull Namjoon into his little game, convincing him to misbehave even though he’s not one to do so. The two of them are very different, one poking at Jimin’s pride and talking back, the other submitting almost too easily, melting under the faintest of touches from him. Taehyung isn’t like that, he needs it a bit firmer, only unraveling under the threat of punishment, subduing to rough contact and demeaning words. Jimin always has to figure out a way to direct the scene in a way where the two of them, no matter their differences in preferences, will feel fulfilled and cared for. A middle ground to bring them both down to their knees at the same time, under Jimin’s foot.

What’s obvious now is that they’re a little tipsy and looking for trouble.

Jimin clears his throat, drawing circles over the table. “Namjoon, serve me a glass.”

His response is immediate; a sharp inhale, eyes round and alert. “The usual?”

“Make it double.”

He nods once. “Yes, Daddy.”

Namjoon sets his flute down on the long dining table and obeys, bare feet sliding against the white marble tiles leading to the open kitchen. He enjoys being ordered around, serving, and it’s the first step to getting him where he aches to be. It’s easy with him, Jimin can make him drop with nothing but direct commands. All in the eyes, in the weight he adds to every syllable. Namjoon drinks it all up greedily, gets drunk on subjection. He could serve Jimin for an entire night and be content with just that, but Jimin prefers playing with him, digging into that pretty head of his and pulling all those sweet whines out of his demanding mouth, making him feel the purest form of ecstasy. Namjoon is breathtakingly beautiful when his mind submits, putting his entire heart and soul into it, but he truly blossoms when his body yields, too.

Taehyung, on the other hand, sees this as an opportunity to make a bold move, knowing all too well Namjoon won’t be following him down his path of defiance any longer. He walks over slowly, proudly, shoulders squared and chin up but looking down at Jimin with half-lidded eyes as he sits up on the table, inches away. It’s hard not to eat him up with his gaze, all that honey skin glowing gold under the warm light, shimmers dotting it like stars. Taehyung looks lethal, and Jimin knows he’s dangerous, forces a ravenous thirst for power out of him. That’s his goal, why he snaps back and disobeys, will do anything he can to stir him further, to anger him.

He wants to see the worst of Jimin.

“Did you have a nice day at work, Daddy?” Taehyung asks, spreading his legs ever so slightly. Big bulge on display, barely contained in the tight fabric of his black lace panties.

Jimin stands up, eyes locked with Taehyung’s as Namjoon comes back and hands him his drink, ice cubes clinking against the crystal.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says to Namjoon, a fleeting caress on the back of his fingers. His arms naturally cross behind his back, robe slipping lower on his exposed shoulder, and Jimin understands that Namjoon must’ve been very eager for his arrival considering he’s already showing the evident signs. Lips parted, eyes glued to Jimin, waiting for his next order. “And yes, I did have a nice day at work. I was impatient to get back home to play with my toys, but…

He stops to take a sip of his drink. Jimin lets the crisp liquor roll on his tongue, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors coating the inside of his mouth. Whiskey was always his favorite, especially when it’s ice-cold but burning down his throat, a blend of smoke and vanilla heating him up from the inside. When he opens them again, he swallows the mouthful and stares right into Taehyung’s eyes.

“But it seems you two don’t need me, huh?”

Namjoon’s gaze flicks to Taehyung. “I said we should wait,” he mumbles with a shy pout.

“Always me who’s to blame, huh?” Taehyung rolls his eyes, tucking a long wave of dark brown hair behind his ear. His leg hitches up the table, and it’s downright obscene how his package is practically on full display, spread open like that over the glass table, pretty boy in fancy lingerie acting like a damn whore. Even though Jimin knows it’s on purpose, all calculated on Taehyung’s part, he can’t help but bite his lip, grip tightening around his glass. “Not my fault. You should’ve been here on time, Daddy.”

And the game begins. Jimin is used to it now, enjoys the fire it sparks in the depths of his groin. It consumes him whole, this blinding need for control, to play into their heads until they’re nothing but pitiful whines and broken moans, living for nothing else but to please Jimin’s twisted obsession for complete dominance. Shamelessly delving into the desires of the flesh, the darkest depths of their hunger for one another.

The brattiness only adds oil to his fire. He knows exactly how to deal with Taehyung in a situation like this.

Jimin needs to break him. Make him understand where his place is.

He grabs the back of his chair and drags it to the living room, pushing past the two. Another sip feeds the warmth growing in his chest as he stares at his own reflection in the large window, flashing city lights in the background. Jimin places the chair in front of the long leather couch, about two meters away. He then turns towards the boys who are looking at him quizzically, one blinking slowly, the other with a single, quirked brow. Jimin knocks back the rest of his whiskey and sets the glass down on the coffee table, free hand deftly unbuckling his belt.

Jimin looks at Namjoon and snaps his fingers, pointing at the spot in the middle of the sofa. “Sit.”

Namjoon looks down at his feet and walks forward, doing as he’s told. Taehyung just smirks boldly, staring at him across the room, one hand on his hip, the other raising his champagne flute so he can down it in one go, too.

“Taehyung,” Jimin starts, pulling his belt out of the loops, “sit on the chair.”

“I don’t feel like sitting,” he replies nonchalantly, checking out his nails.

“Do I have to come and grab you by the hair like the lowly, dirty slut that you are and drag you here, then?”

Taehyung purses his lips, though it’s obvious it got to him. “I’m not lowly.” Then he’s stepping forward, too slowly for Jimin’s taste, but they’ve got more than enough time in front of them. The tension grows between the two, intent, burning stares locked together. Taehyung stands tall in front of Jimin, almost hesitates for a second before finally sitting down. “But I am a slut.”

“That’s right,” Jimin whispers next to his ear, hands hovering over Taehyung’s arms. Taehyung takes a deep breath in, looks down at the ring-clad fingers not quite touching, so close and yet so far. He must be feeling hopeful with that cocky smirk plastered on his face, thinking Jimin will let him off the hook, too eager to get to the action to punish him this time around. “A dirty little slut.”

If that’s what Taehyung’s thinking, he couldn’t be more wrong.

Jimin abruptly grabs his wrists and pulls them back behind the chair, Taehyung gasping loudly in response. He giggles, giving just a bit of resistance, a tougher time for Jimin, but his hands are deft, already wrapping his leather belt around Taehyung’s wrists and securing them there, tight enough for it to sting. Taehyung’s fingers unclench, testing the restraint, and his lack of feedback means he’s not that uncomfortable.

“Namjoon, sweetheart, what do disobedient sluts deserve?” Jimin asks as he haltingly circles around the chair, walking up to the sofa facing it. Namjoon looks up at him with wide eyes, pretty lips parted.

A hint of a smile. “Punishment.”

“Mhm.” Jimin hears Taehyung click his tongue, but ignores him. He’s focused on the man below him, stroking the side of Namjoon’s face with the back of his fingers. He shivers under the touch, leaning into it, long fingers curling around his own thighs. They’re still covered in silk, and it annoys Jimin; he aches to see them bare, that smooth skin and those plush curves, the muscle that pokes out whenever his body feels overwhelmed. “And what do obedient sluts get?”

“Rewards,” Namjoon breathes out.

Exactly,” Jimin whispers, smiling softly. “Which is why I will reward you, and Taehyung will only be able to watch.”

“You think that’s punishment?” Taehyung snorts behind him. Jimin knows exactly the kind of look he must have on his face right now, defying eyes even darker than before, strong brows furrowed and teeth biting down on his bottom lip. His legs must be spread wide, cock evidently hard, getting off on being restrained and ignored. Broad chest heaving, nipples hard. As much as Taehyung loves to bring the cruelty out of Jimin, Jimin loves to bring out even more of the brat in Taehyung. “I love a good show, Daddy.”

Namjoon turns his head to look back at him but Jimin brings it forward again. “Don’t mind him. Focus on me, baby.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Jimin kicks his shoes off and pulls his tie down and off his neck, throwing it on the other end of the sofa. Then he’s unbuttoning his white dress shirt ever so slowly, drinking in Namjoon’s reactions, how hard he’s holding back, being good. Jimin unfastens the last one but keeps his shirt on, leaving it open, and his hands travel down his own torso, skimming along the plane of his hard stomach to reach the hem of his slacks. Namjoon is staring at his fingers, how they unzip and hook underneath, pulling them down his strong legs. Jimin steps out of his pants and discards them where his tie lays, keeping his tight black briefs on. He squares his shoulder and takes a deep breath, looking down at the bulge growing below Namjoon’s robe. It’s obvious now that he's not wearing anything underneath.

“Open your robe.”

Jimin was right. When Namjoon unties the robe’s knot, Jimin has to swallow down a groan. Perhaps he’s not wearing any clothes, but he’s adorned in those diamond-encrusted chains around his thighs, his waist, his chest, all connected together, even to his nipples’ piercings. He’s glowing under the amber light, the hundreds of diamonds reflecting over his flushed skin. Namjoon’s thighs press together, cock twitching as Jimin licks over every inch of him with his eyes, already imagining all the ways he could ruin him.

“Look at you,” Jimin whispers, delicately pushing his chin up with his fingertips to admire the thick diamond choker around his neck, how it all comes together with the rest of his ensemble. “You look beautiful.”

“T-Thank you, Daddy,” Namjoon mumbles with a hard swallow, breaths becoming shallow.

“Poor baby’s already so hard,” Jimin croons, stroking Namjoon’s bottom lip with his thumb. Namjoon catches it between his lips, shyly sucks on the tip and Jimin watches him with parted lips, the sensation spreading up his arm and down south. “Wanna put that big dick to use, Joonie?”

Namjoon nods eagerly. Jimin thinks he hears Taehyung groan behind him, which only spurs him on further. Knowing he’s aroused and untouched but can’t do anything about it, tied back and forced to watch Jimin play with Namjoon and not him after having waited for so long.

“You’ve been staring at my thighs, baby,” Jimin adds, sitting next to him, completely ignoring Taehyung. “You really do like them, hm? Wanna fuck them, Joonie? Wanna fuck Daddy’s big, strong thighs?”

Please,” Namjoon whines, breath caught in his lungs when Jimin puts his legs up and across his thighs, pressing down on his erection. He can’t help but buck his hips at the contact, desperate to feel just a bit of friction from him.

“Say it.”

“I—,” Namjoon moans, looking down at his cock grazing up and down against the side of Jimin’s thigh with his shy thrusts, “I wanna fuck your thighs, Daddy—”

“Good boy.”

Jimin moves so that he can trap Namjoon’s cock between them, pressing hard enough to pull a wince out of him. He’s quick to rut up, the head of his dick poking out between. The slide is dry but he’s leaking thick drops of precum; Jimin can feel it stick to his skin.

“Can I touch?” Namjoon whispers, large hands hovering over Jimin’s legs.

Jimin smirks. He’s always so sensitive and overwhelmed, and it’s always wonderful to witness. “Yes, baby.”

“Thank you.”

Then his hands are curling around Jimin’s thighs, fingertips digging down, kneading the muscle. Thrusting faster, moans growing louder, echoing in the vast space. Namjoon’s broad, ornamented chest heaves with every harsh breath he takes, and Jimin can’t help but reach out towards him, pinch one of his perked up, pierced nipples. He flicks his thumb across the bud, plays with the metal bar and Namjoon mewls, head falling back against the headrest, face twisted from desire.

“Such a pretty boy,” Jimin whispers, stroking up his thick chest and neck. He anchors there and pulls himself closer, bringing his other hand to Namjoon’s lips. They press past them and he’s sucking again, a bit more intensely, coating the digits in drool. Namjoon shifts his hips sideways so he can fuck his thighs better, right next to Jimin’s cock. Tongue swirling around Jimin’s fingers, lost in the sensation, eyes fluttering shut as moans incessantly roll off his needy tongue. Jimin watches as the fire within him grows, feeding on how needy Namjoon is, on the intensity he can feel from the pair of eyes next to them.

Namjoon is quick to come, but Jimin is nowhere near done with him. He has great stamina, will get hard again in a matter of seconds, perks of being so sensitive. Last time, they made him come at least ten times; the poor baby almost lost consciousness at the end of it. Jimin watches, a little breathless, as thick white ropes cover his thighs, smearing sticky across the length. Namjoon is panting, basking in the glory of his orgasm, and so Jimin gives him a chaste kiss at the corner of his lips before slipping off the sofa. He has other… matters to attend to for now; he’ll need Namjoon’s participation soon enough.

“So, so pretty. My good boy,” he drawls before turning to Taehyung, soft expression falling in an instant. The harshness of his traits comes back, no sweet eyes or smiles anymore. He walks up to him, stops right when their legs are about to touch.

Taehyung snorts. “You call me a slut when you’re rock hard from getting your thighs fucked and got ‘em covered in cum—

Jimin slaps Taehyung hard then grabs him by the hair, hiking his leg up and forcing Taehyung’s head close to the warm liquid still trickling down his skin. Taehyung’s groaning low, processing the sting with fluttering eyelashes before focusing on what’s before him. He’s already licking his lips, it’s obvious how bad he wants it, deep down, thick cock stretching the delicate lace of his panties.

“Clean it, whore.”

Jimin doesn’t let him talk back, pulls his head forward so his lips press against the inside of his thigh. Taehyung shivers and his tongue pokes out, quick to pick up the cum before it dries, moaning deep with every swallow. Jimin tries not to make it too obvious how much it’s affecting him, too, feeling Taehyung’s warm, wet tongue on the insides of his sensitive thighs pink from how intensely they were just fucked, dangerously close to his hard cock, watching him hungrily lap at Namjoon’s cum. Moans vibrate against his skin and he’s exhaling deeply, can’t believe Taehyung even tries to be a brat when he loves being a slut so bad.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Jimin tightens his grip, pulling a wince and grunt out of him. “What a good bitch.”

When his thighs are clean of cum, Jimin throws Taehyung’s head back, circling around the chair until he’s behind it. He leans next to Taehyung’s ear and curls a hand around his neck, extending it back.

“I think it’s about time we use this slut, don’t you think, Namjoon?” Jimin says with a wicked grin, digging his nails in the side of Taehyung’s neck, feeling his pulse hammer against his fingers. “Show him that it’s all he’s good for, hm? Pleasing us.” With those last words, Jimin abruptly grabs either side of Taehyung’s shirt and rips it open in half, unveiling the delicate black lingerie beneath, lace bralette and garter belt. Tight around his broad chest and smaller waist, flawlessly hugging the curves, just barely digging in his honey skin. Taehyung squirms in his seat, hips pushing up, desperate for contact, and his silence is telling enough. It seems he’s let go of his brattiness a bit quicker than usual. Brute force always affects him more than anything else; being reminded of how strong Jimin is, how easily he could throw him around no matter their difference in size. “Just a hole to be fucked.

“D-Daddy—” he mumbles, but Jimin shuts him up with a light slap on the cheek.

“Holes don’t talk.”

Taehyung swallows hard, pressing his lips in a thin line while Jimin smirks in victory. That was easier than he thought. Sometimes, Taehyung can be a tad more… resilient. But it was a long week for all three of them, building up to this moment, for when they could properly give in to one another, understandably impatient. Even Jimin who enjoys taking it slow more than anything struggles with doing so, body aching from how bad he wants it, to ruin and fuck his babies until he can’t feel his limbs.

Bindings and ripped shirt off, Jimin grabs him by the hair again, guiding him down onto the carpet. Taehyung’s on his knees, sitting back on his heels, looking up at Jimin with half-lidded, lust-ridden eyes and he’s absolutely beautiful, long dark hair a mess, already looks fucked out even though they’ve barely just started.

“Face the chair.”

Taehyung obeys, which sparks yet another wildfire in the pit of Jimin’s stomach. Nothing better than witnessing the downfall of a brat, for them to finally give up the act. Jimin sits down on said chair, legs spread wide, then snaps his fingers and points between his legs. Taehyung crawls closer without need for words, eyes fixed on what stands before him, from the inside of Jimin’s strong thighs to what’s between them.

“All I have to do to shut you up is keep your dirty mouth busy, hm?” Jimin groans as he lowers his briefs just enough to pull his cock out, pushing the flaps of his dress shirt to the side so they can both get a good look at his toned body, even see the inked letters etched over his ribs. “Namjoon,” he adds with a softer voice, “come stand next to me.”

He does as he’s told, standing up on those long, thick legs of his and planting himself at his side. Jimin wraps a hand around his thigh and pulls him closer, fingertips playing with the delicate chain there. He can feel Namjoon shiver under his touch, the goosebumps rising.

“Go on, slut. Suck.”

Jimin pays him no more attention, turning to Namjoon as he feels two large hands settle on his thighs, a warm presence coming closer. Jimin groans against Namjoon’s stomach when Taehyung’s tongue slowly swirls around the swollen head of his cock, ever so slightly sucking its tip. Heat climbs between their bodies, all that sweat-sheened skin on show stirring them deep, impossibly enthralling. Finally touching, delving into one another, their strongest desires taking full control of their minds.

Jimin presses down on Namjoon’s shoulders and stretches his neck to flick his tongue against his pierced nipple, sucking on it a little harshly as Taehyung takes the entirety of Jimin’s cock in his mouth, drool trickling down the pulsing length. Namjoon shivers and whines, pushing his chest into the contact, legs pressed together. His cock twitches back to life, and as much as Jimin wants to make it come over and over again, his hands are attracted to Namjoon’s chest instead, cupping it and remembering all the times he slid and squeezed his dick between them. Jimin bites the curve hard enough for Namjoon to wince and a mark to show, but the sound is quick to turn into a raspy moan, Namjoon’s shaky hand finding Jimin’s shoulder for grounding.

“Can’t talk back with a mouth full of dick, huh, slut?” Jimin grunts as he shifts his head a bit, grabbing Taehyung’s hair and pulling it down, fucking up in his mouth. Taehyung chokes loudly, spit seeping in thick gushes but his eyes are rolling back in bliss, a low groan echoing in his chest. Jimin knows how bad he likes it, the lack of air, the burn in his throat and lungs. It’s so messy, strings connecting to Taehyung’s swollen lips when he pulls back to breathe a little before being pushed right back down. There are tears in his eyes, webbing his pretty lashes together. “Yeah, such a good bitch, choke on Daddy’s cock.”

Jimin exhales loudly, pleasure building up too quickly in his groin, coiling tight. He drowns in the rapture, lips unconsciously trailing down Namjoon’s soft stomach until they meet the base of his cock. Tongue poking out, he licks across the growing length, breaths shuddering against the heated, cum-stained skin as Taehyung gently cups his balls, massaging them with one hand as the other twists around Jimin’s dick. Jimin groans low, jaw clenched and body seized by pleasure, every muscle contracted, poking out from under his skin pearled with sweat. He wraps a hand around Namjoon’s cock and flicks his tongue across its slit, pressing the tip right underneath the head, that spot that makes Namjoon’s knees go weak.

“F-fuck, Daddy—

Jimin spits on it and looks up, spreading the saliva down and over every inch. He already has other plans in mind, aches to witness a particular scene, can imagine it vividly. “Now that your big dick is nice and slick, how about you go and use this slut’s other hole?”

Namjoon licks his lips and nods, biting down on the bottom one as his gaze flicks sideways at Taehyung’s ass perked up in the air. Jimin lets him go and slaps his ass when he moves away, admires the pink mark blooming there. Namjoon stops behind Taehyung and lets his robe fall down his shoulders and arms, pooling around his feet. He looks unreal, some higher being built from pure gold, wrapped in diamonds and glitter, exuding sensuality with his every movement. Skin so smooth and taut around his curves, the bulge of muscle of his chest and arms, thighs and calves.

As shy as he might be at times, right now he’s feeling himself, on show and enjoying it, taking his sweet time for Jimin to marvel at his beauty. Namjoon is far gone already, eyes clouded with arousal as he kneels, taking a deep, drawn-out breath. Jimin caresses his own thighs, nails scraping along the insides as he watches Namjoon’s big hands wrap around Taehyung’s waist and slide down, catching on the tight fabric of his lace panties and stretching his cheeks apart. Taehyung hums against Jimin’s dick and arches his back even more, looking up at him, wet tongue lapping at the precum seeping out of it.

“Open your mouth,” Jimin orders, voice low. Taehyung does in a second, quick to pull his tongue out, and Jimin leans closer to spit right on it. “Swallow.”

Taehyung’s eyes shift. There’s that hint of defiance sparking back as he doesn’t obey, the spit rolling on the side of his tongue and trickling down his chin. Jimin clicks his tongue and grabs him by the jaw, pulling him closer until they’re sharing breaths.

“Fuck him stupid, baby,” Jimin tells Namjoon, eyes locked with Taehyung’s. “Fuck our little Taetae so hard he can’t even fucking think. Just a drooly, whiny mess.”

Jimin slaps his cheek and grabs him by the bangs, pushing Taehyung’s face against his dick, spreading the saliva over his lips and cheeks with it. Just as he’s doing that, Namjoon tugs Taehyung’s panties down and hastily pulls a lubed-up buttplug out of his ass, a loud squelch echoing in the small space between them. Taehyung whines like a bitch, strings of lube connecting the toy and his stretched ass, but Jimin shuts him up by forcing his cock in his mouth again, as deep as he possibly can. Taehyung barely has a second to process the shift, Namjoon already pressing the tip of his dick against his hole, sliding in easily with how open and slick it is. Taehyung’s entire body clenches, sweat pearling over his spine, moaning and groaning around Jimin’s cock, head bobbing up and down.

“Look at you, sucking my dick like a fucking whore. You love this shit, don’t you? Getting both your holes filled? Fucked from either side?”

Taehyung can’t answer. He’s properly losing it, eyes fluttering shut as he lets Jimin fuck his mouth, as Namjoon picks up in speed, strong hands gripping his hips tight. The bottom half of his face is sheened with spit, pretty lips swollen red. He looks impossibly obscene, disheveled and dirty, teary eyes holding onto Jimin’s dark, intent stare. Especially with the contrasting, pretty Namjoon moaning softly behind him, too focused on his dick sliding in and out, brows furrowed deep. Namjoon’s big, it must be so much to take all at once and so quickly, obvious in the way Taehyung can barely function anymore. The brat has completely vanished, leaving nothing more than a cock-thirsty slut.

“Where are your manners, whore?” Jimin taunts, pulling him off his dick so he can breathe a bit and blink back into focus. “Joonie and I are fucking your pathetic holes and you’re not thanking us?”

“Th-thank you Joonie,” Taehyung murmurs, cut off by a sob when a particularly harsh thrust slams against his ass. Namjoon might be soft and sweet but when he gets overwhelmed with pleasure, the strength of his toned body tends to take the reins. It’s enthralling to watch, the soft but nonetheless strong submissive on the verge of tears because it just feels so good and he can’t handle it, body shaking and covered in goosebumps. “Thank you… Daddy—

Jimin wipes the tears rolling down his cheeks, smile tainted with mischief. “There you go. Wasn’t too hard now, was it?”

Taehyung shakes his head, pout curling on his lips. Jimin leans down to kiss it, a small reward for finally being a good boy, but then he’s up and standing, stepping beside the two sweaty bodies going at it on the floor, admiring every line and curve, the prominent arch of Taehyung’s back, the muscle bulging out of Namjoon’s arms and stomach. How desperate it is, like they’re touch-starved even though they get off regularly, can spend hours a day just pleasing themselves and one another, waiting for Jimin to come back home only to relish in even more indulgences. It enthralls him, the wanton intensity and their absolute release, how these two very capable, grown men lose it with the faintest of touches, will fall to their knees in a heartbeat if ordered to. Heightened tenfold when they’re dressed and adorned so prettily, clash of strong and delicate. A mix of masculine and feminine that stirs Jimin deep, has for as long as he can remember.

Jimin can’t help but wrap a hand around his own dick at the sight of Taehyung taking it so well, lowering his upper body, pressing his face against the rug, ass fully on display. The movement and curve, how he propels with every strong thrust, a steady rhythm with echoing moans in harmony. Namjoon’s body drips with sweat, the droplets reflecting in the low light like the jewels draping his skin. Platinum hair sticks to his forehead and temples, the usually lilac ends now a deeper color. As if he’s reading his mind, Namjoon brushes his bangs back, light strands slicking back and exposing his strong brows.

God, they’re both so fucking hot.

“Hold his arms back,” Jimin orders, and Namjoon immediately reaches for them. His thrusts are harder now that he’s properly anchored, and the twist in his face, the high-pitched shift of his moans means he’s close. “Don’t come just yet, baby. Do it when he’s coming, too, the clench will feel even better.”

Jimin kneels beside them, right hand pulling Taehyung’s head back by the hair, thick neck stretched to its limit, left hand wrapping around his dick. Taehyung jolts when he finally gets what he desperately wanted, moaning so loud it’s deafening, drool trickling down the corner of his mouth. He’s completely lost, pure pleasure conquering his body, and with a tighter twist around the head, Jimin knows he’s there.

“Go ahead, slut. Come for me.”

And he does, explosively, crying out as his body spasms. Namjoon is quick to follow, hips bucking at a broken rhythm, hands tightening around Taehyung’s hips. How beautiful it is to watch them both unravel together, their breathless whines and groans the loveliest melody Jimin has ever had the chance of hearing. Limbs tense and trembling but expressions serene, swimming in the aftermath of their peaks.

“Your poor dick needs a little break, huh, baby?” He asks Namjoon who nods faintly in response, too dazed to speak, dick still deep inside Taehyung. Jimin leans in to give him a soft kiss on his lips and then turns to the other, smirking at how broken down he looks, tear-stained cheeks and dampened bangs. He lifts his dirtied hand up in front of his face. “You know what to do.”

Taehyung moves sluggishly, tongue poking out and licking his own cum off as Jimin’s other hand finds Namjoon’s mouth, too, caressing his pretty lips before letting him suck on them softly.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Taehyung mumbles after he’s licked the last drop off.

Namjoon’s soft cock slips out and Jimin’s gaze darts to the drops of cum trickling out of Taehyung's stretched ass. He hastily reaches back for the buttplug and shoves it inside him again, Taehyung gasping and clenching up at the sudden entrance. How incredibly dirty he looks, plugged full of cum, flushed skin veiled with sweat, pretty lingerie bunched up at his knees and riding up his chest, not even covering him anymore. Dark nipples on display, lace wrapping tight just over them. Jimin aches to defile him even more, mark and cover his body properly like the cum slut he is.

“Let’s keep that inside you for later,” Jimin says with a grin, hand smacking his ass. pulling yet another pitiful yelp out of him. “How about we head to the bedroom, get a bit more comfortable?”

He gets up without waiting for an answer, snapping his fingers once to pull them out of their daze. Jimin feels unstoppable, these two big men broken down from pleasure at his feet, willing victims to his irresistible torture. The sight of them from this higher angle magnifies the palpable, blazing feeling of power that never ceases to grow inside of Jimin with these scenes they play out, a headspace that elevates him into a state of pure supremacy.

Jimin can’t help but smile. It consumes him whole, limbs electrified and head light even though he’s completely grounded and hyper-aware of himself and his surroundings.

Oh, how he’s missed this feeling.

Both of them get up with difficulty and it’s rather gratifying to witness, the two standing up on shaky legs and following him out of the living room without a single uttered word. Jimin reaches back and feels their fingers intertwine with his own as they walk down the long. dimly-lit corridor, the slow music he noticed before growing louder, welcoming them inside Jimin’s bedroom.

Said room is a grand space of dark wood columns and crimson fabric, golden embroidery and sand-colored marble, a drastic contrast with the rest of the monochrome penthouse. Exuding a more old-fashioned vision of luxury, his own little taste of royalty. Jimin guides the two towards the impressive bed, lets go of their hands and watches as they climb up on it, surrounded in the deep red color, silk bed sheets and draping translucent curtains. The chandelier’s light is darker, a tawny tone that beautifully deepens the color of their skin, enhancing the dips and curves of their enthralling bodies. The ambiance always shifts when they move to the bedroom, the setting reminding Jimin of medieval paintings depicting debauchery in all its lascivious glory. His hunger turns into something more along the lines of primal, an instinctual need to take and claim, to fully delve into this blinding desire bubbling over, taking over his every rational thought.

“Joonie, lay on your back,” he orders plainly, voice both deeper and firmer than before, half-lidded eyes glued to the pair as he slides his dress shirt off, then his briefs. Both of them swallow hard at the sight of him completely naked, knowing all too well what it means. “Taehyung, take your panties off and sit beside him.”

Then he joins them there, kneeling between Namjoon’s spread legs, looking down at the large man now appearing so small. The way he hides behind his curled-up fists, looking up at Jimin with pretty, flustered eyes, entire body naturally reacting to his proximity. Chest rising faster as his breaths turn shallow, goosebumps rising on his skin, gaze flicking to every part of Jimin’s exposed form, specifically what hangs between his thighs.

“Are you prepped, sweetheart?” Jimin asks, stretching his legs further on either side, diamond-encrusted chains tightening around his thighs. He massages the plush curve and one quick glance answers his question, but he wants to hear it from Namjoon, especially the reason why he isn’t.

“No,” Namjoon replies shyly, evading Jimin’s heavy stare. “I wanted you to do it…”

Jimin smiles. Of course, he did. Namjoon was always weak for Jimin’s hands and fingers, especially when they’re in his mouth. Jimin looks at Taehyung and snaps his fingers, pointing at the nightstand, and as Taehyung turns around to fetch what he needs, Jimin bites down on his index and middle finger’s rings, pulling them off with his mouth only to spit them out on the floor. They fall with a soft thud over the carpet, and Jimin grabs the bottle of lube handed to him, pumping out a good amount and properly coating the two fingers with lube before discarding it to the side. The tips quickly find Namjoon’s hole and he inhales sharply, chest rising up from the bed and relaxing again as Jimin slowly circles around the rim, drinking in Namjoon’s every reaction, the slight twitches in his face, jaw falling slack and eyes rolling back.

“That’s it, baby,” Jimin murmurs, licking his lips. “Just relax.”

Jimin lowers to leave soft kisses over the inside of Namjoon’s thighs and watches as Taehyung does the same, focusing his attention on his perked nipples instead, tongue flicking over and around the bud and its metal bar. Namjoon can’t hold himself back any longer, a cascade of mewls rolling off his tongue, clawing at the sheets underneath him, holding on for dear life as the two continue to tease him at a torturous rhythm, never giving him more.

Poor Namjoon, he's just so sensitive. The slightest touch drives him wild, and now he has two mouths on him, lubed-up fingers teasing his depraved entrance. Not only that, but he’s the center of their attention, both of them pleasuring him. Overstimulating Namjoon is Jimin’s favorite, he’s so vocal and desperate, cries so prettily. It’s hard not to coo at him, to do even more to bring him over that devastating edge, rip orgasm out of orgasm out of him until nothing’s coming out, until his entire body shakes, tears stain his cheeks and his skin is covered in sweat. And Jimin always does it so slowly, once took three hours to edge his needy baby. Nipples bruised from how much they were toyed with, cock such a deep shade of red just like his cheeks and chest. Drooling and whining, crying and screaming, but nonetheless holding still because Namjoon is just such a good boy.

Taehyung’s mouth travels across his rising chest to suck on his untouched nipple, one hand busy pinching and twisting the other. Jimin can feel Namjoon’s asshole clench against his fingertip, almost begging for him to finally push it inside, but he keeps rolling around at a languid pace, just barely catching onto it on purpose. The sounds coming out of him turn breathless, desperate, hips rutting up and pushing down, aching for them to go further. But Jimin won’t give in any time soon, planning on bringing Namjoon to tears before giving him what he really wants.

“Hey, Taetae,” he says with a grin, paying no mind to Namjoon’s blubbered pleas, “you wanna fuck our baby’s tits?”

Jimin knows it’s a little cruel of him, especially since Namjoon’s been nothing but sweet and obedient, but he can’t help it, aches to see tears streaming down that pretty face of his, for him to cry out how bad he wants Jimin to fuck him. And he did kind of disobey, at first. Nothing that would usually deserve punishment, but it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy the torture, anyway. Namjoon will take anything Jimin gives him, no matter how intense or wicked. He’s just that good.

“How about you sit on his face, too?” Jimin continues, dark eyes glued to him, completely enthralled by his strong, needy reactions. He had intended on keeping Taehyung’s ass plugged for a while, but only fools never change their mind. There’s just something incredibly obscene and filthy about Namjoon eating his own cum out of Taehyung’s ass while he’ll be rubbing his dick between his pecs. “Do you think Taehyung deserves it, Joonie? Getting his ass eaten and fucking your pretty tits?”

“Y-yeah,” Namjoon mumbles, grabbing Taehyung’s wrist and pulling him closer. “I wanna eat Taetae’s ass.”

They share a stare, both half-lidded and panting, and then they’re kissing, more teeth and tongue than anything else. Namjoon sucks on Taehyung’s tongue, reaches out to push his bralette to the side and plays with his nipples. Both of them fondle and kiss each other while Jimin smears lube up around Namjoon’s balls, fingertip grazing against the length of his half-hard cock. Namjoon’s thighs keep twitching, beckoning him, but his attention is taken forward when Taehyung starts to move one leg over Namjoon’s head. He slides closer until his dick lays in the middle of Namjoon’s chest, hands cupping the sides, pushing them together. Namjoon’s hands slither up to stretch Taehyung’s ass, and a second later he gasps softly, biting down on his bottom lip and rubbing his dick between Namjoon’s pecs, fingers digging down in the flesh.

“Would you look at that.

Jimin swallows hard as he intently observes them, dick pulsing painfully, so incredibly aroused. He sees the buttplug land on the bed, remnants of cum coating it. Jimin wishes he could watch Namjoon lap at what’s coming out of Taehyung’s ass, swallowing down his own cum and licking the rim clean, but he’s busy with teasing the poor man already, lowering until his lips graze against the inside of his thigh to pinch a patch of sensitive skin between his teeth. Namjoon whines loudly, hips bucking up as Jimin holds onto it, biting just a bit harder, enough for him to cry out. Then he’s letting go and moving closer to his crotch, sucking on the skin instead, pushing nothing more than the tip of his finger inside of Namjoon.

“Please, please,” Namjoon sobs, unable to utter anything other than that word.

“Tae,” Jimin groans, fire sparking throughout his chest at how pathetic Namjoon’s voice sounds, “how does it feel? Fucking Joonie’s tits?”

Taehyung tightens his grip at that, pushing them against his dick even more, picking up his rhythm. Precum leaks from the tip of his cock, dribbling onto Namjoon‘s skin, and smearing over his chest. “So good, Daddy, Joonie has such nice tits, feels so, so good.”

Jimin pushes a whole finger inside and Namjoon’s entire body clenches, cock fully hard and twitching right when he curls his finger up. “Please, Daddy, please—

“Hm? What is it, baby?” Jimin drawls, licking across Namjoon’s shaft. “You want something? Thought you wanted to eat Taetae’s ass?”

He keeps sobbing the same word over and over again, but he’s silenced when Taehyung reaches behind him to push Namjoon’s head forward, urging him to continue. Jimin’s eyebrows rise, rather impressed, and he catches himself straightening. Frozen in his spot, eyes fixed to Taehyung properly riding Namjoon’s face, rolling his hips and moaning unashamedly, head falling back. His body is mesmerizing, taut and covered in sweat, lace bralette stretched around his broad chest, garter belt bunched up at his waist, socks at different heights. Thick neck stretched completely, drops of sweat trickling down and along the veins poking out. Head full of beautiful dark waves, damp strands sticking to his forehead and the nape of his neck.

Jimin hates to admit it but he’s getting impatient, and Namjoon can definitely take it, so he pushes a second finger in, shuddering out a breath when he feels his ass clench around the two digits, sucking him in. He’s already imagining it around himself instead, that delicious, wet warmth tight around his aching cock. But he holds back, thrusts his fingers in and out, a bit faster than before, other hand skimming up the plane of Namjoon’s stomach and scratching back down. He wants to cover him in marks, to marvel at the contrast between the pretty chains wrapping around him and the bruises etched into his skin, combining both the salacious and luxurious.

And that’s when he finally hears it. Sobs, light sniffling. Namjoon chokes out a breath, hands flat against the sheets, gripping them so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Daddy, please, please fuck me,” he begs, chest heaving under Taehyung’s weight. “Want your cock, please, want it so bad, all I want—”

“Ah, that’s what I wanted to hear. What a good boy. You want Daddy to fuck you, yeah? Fuck you nice and hard?”

Namjoon’s begging some more as Jimin slips his fingers out, smearing the remaining lube on his dick instead. In one swift movement, he’s placing himself closer, aligning the tip of his aching cock with Namjoon’s ass and pressing it in, both hands set behind his knees and pushing them back. When he bottoms out seconds later, too eager to let him get used to his girth, Namjoon sobs out, pulling on the fabric between his clenched fingers.

“Baby’s so fucking tight for Daddy. What a tight little ass, Joonie. Made to be stretched by my cock and my cock only.

Namjoon’s back arches even with Taehyung sitting on top of him, a low groan climbing out of his throat before it turns into a pitiful whine. He’s always been so tight, clenching around him like a vice, and it’s driving Jimin wild to finally be inside of his baby, making him scream from it. There’s nothing like feeling that wet heat sucking his dick in, like witnessing how intense it is for them to be fucked by him, all wide-eyed and drooly as if their brains shut down, nothing more than limp bodies taken over by sensations they can’t handle.

“How does my big dick feel inside that little ass of yours? Tell Daddy how good it feels.”

He’s well aware Namjoon can’t answer, in too deep to fully process all that’s happening, even less so formulate a coherent sentence, but letting all that filth roll off his tongue only spurs him on further, especially with how much they enjoy it. The way their bodies react, their gasps and immediate whines. Just as intense as any touch, affecting them not only physically but mentally.

Dirty talk can hit just as hard as a spank.

“Daddy’s sweet little cocksleeve, good at taking dick and nothing else, huh? You love it, don’t you? Just a pretty hole to be fucked stupid? You do it so, so well.”

Jimin’s electrified hands move to wrap around his hips, fingers curling down and digging into the flesh as pleasure bleeds through his system, fogging his vision. He enjoys edging himself but it’s so hard with all that’s been building up inside of him ever since they started, aching for sweet release. He focuses on his babies instead of the coil in his groin, how Namjoon is moaning like he’s a bitch in heat, cock hard and leaking over his taut stomach, how Taehyung keeps rubbing his dick between Namjoon’s pecs, dirtying the skin with precum.

“Lean closer and open your mouth,” Jimin orders between two grunts, dark eyes latched on Taehyung. One of his hands lets go of Namjoon to curl around Taehyung’s throat instead, holding him in place before spitting on his tongue. “Swallow.” Taehyung does so with a moan, licking his lips and opening his mouth once more, beckoning Jimin to do it again. But he pulls him into a kiss instead, something messy and needy, Jimin tugging on Taehyung’s lips with his teeth, sucking on his tongue. A little tighter and Taehyung’s gasping, lips parted and swollen red, and Jimin watches as his eyes roll back, body growing limp before he’s letting go.

“What a good little bitch,” Jimin groans, hips slapping against Namjoon’s ass, “enjoy being choked and spit on. Fucking slut.”

“Daddy’s little slut,” Taehyung breathes out, drinking in Jimin’s words like the most expensive liquor, desperately holding onto his stare. “Yours.”

Jimin sees red with that word flashing in his mind, that ache for possession taking over. “That’s right, baby. Both of you belong to me. All mine.”

Just like his arousal, Jimin’s greed is endless. He wants both of them, now.

“Taehyung, turn around.”

“Oh?” Taehyung does as he’s told, moving so he’s straddling Namjoon’s hips instead. He holds himself up on his hands atop Namjoon’s chest and twists his neck to look back at Jimin, back arched, pushing his ass out. “Like this, Daddy?”

Fuck,” Jimin curses, grabbing Taehyung by the hair and pulling him back, closer against him. “Yeah, just like that, whore.

Jimin slots his chin over his shoulder, eyes finally meeting Namjoon’s, seeing those pretty tears staining his cheeks, the cute pink flush over his button nose. He looks completely broken, whining and crying with every harsh slam of Jimin’s hips, practically tearing up the sheets. Even one of his chains is shattered, which was a given considering their sessions are nothing short of rough, bodies always taken to their limit, bruised and battered. He’s surprised it’s still holding on, mostly in place. He expected it to be broken into pieces by now. Maybe he wasn’t rough enough. With that thought, Jimin sucks a bruise on Taehyung’s neck as his head falls back, hand snaking around his torso to cup his chest harshly, strong enough for his nails to break skin.

“Look at how pretty Joonie looks, Taetae,” Jimin groans, eyes fixed to Namjoon. He can’t stop admiring him, face twisted from pleasure, strong body taut and glistening in sweat. Diamonds really were made to be worn by him, those glimmering chains so tight around his curves, digging in his tan skin. How blessed Jimin is to fuck the living daylights out of such an attractive man, especially when he looks this good while taking dick. Eyes seductive and enthralling, plush lips begging to be bitten bloody. “Good boys get Daddy’s dick, isn’t that right? Our Joonie is so, so good and he deserves it. Deserves to get Daddy’s cum deep inside of me.”

“D-Daddy, please—,” Namjoon whines back, blushing even harder with the praise. As much as he enjoys it, it’s always a bit overwhelming for him to hear it, especially when Jimin is eating him up with his heavy stare.

After bruising the entirety of Taehyung’s neck and shoulder, skin covered in red circles and darker bites, he pushes him down against Namjoon and smacks his ass hard once, twice, relishing in the harmony of yelps and cries from the two of them before shoving his fingers inside Taehyung’s ass. Remnants of cum and lube spurt around his fingers, red handprint blossoming on Taehyung’s cheek as he picks up his rhythm fucking into Namjoon, sweat dripping down his neck and spine. The air is heavy and hot, hard to breathe, the tension around and inside of him growing to new heights. Taehyung and Namjoon are moaning in each other’s mouths, demanding hands clinging onto one another, grabbing and clawing, tongues swirling. Jimin’s entire body hurts but in a way that makes his head spin, all attention focused on drawing even more of those wondrous sounds out of them, for more tears to roll down their cheeks, for his own body to meet the climax he’s been holding back.

Taetae,” Namjoon sobs against Taehyung’s lips, “y-your dick is rub—I’m gonna—”

And then he’s clenching around Jimin, a series of deafening moans ripped right out of his throat. Namjoon cries and cries and it only spurs Jimin on, snapping his hips even harder through his peak and fingering Taehyung faster, burning up, sore all over. Taehyung’s desperately rutting against Namjoon and his whines are climbing too, so close. Jimin can feel it coiling to a point that’s hard to ignore, but he focuses all his attention on Taehyung’s ass, spitting down on it and thrusting his fingers in and out incessantly. Taehyung’s entire body shakes as he presses his forehead against Namjoon’s cheek, mumbling incoherent words webbed between pathetic mewls.

“Yeah take it you fucking whore,” Jimin spits, vision blurred, head feeling light.

Jimin’s orgasm hits him at the same time Taehyung’s does and he bends over his heated body, teeth holding onto a patch of flushed skin in the middle of his broad back for grounding as he milks it out, fingers still pressing deep inside Taehyung, cock spilling its load inside Namjoon. With every succeeding thrust he groans loudly, eyes shut tight to focus on the white-hot pleasure bleeding into every part of his body. Sweat drips down his back, himself and everything around so wet, sliding against each other.

When he comes back down, swimming in the aftermath of pure ecstasy, Jimin slips his fingers and dick out, sitting back on his heels to admire his work. Asses stretched and marked on top of eachother, dicks squeezed between their bodies. Taehyung rolls over to the side and onto his back beside Namjoon, chest heaving, eyes fluttering shut. Cum stains their stomachs, smeared up to their chests, and Jimin marvels at how obscene they look, so fucking dirty. Now this is what he would like to see in a painting. Beauty in its purest form. Both of them are completely spent, struggling against the exhaustion creeping up, and Jimin’s beginning to feel just the same, crawling in the space between their bodies. He would continue, but he doesn’t think they’d be able to keep up, so he spreads his arms and they both lay their head on either, curling against him.

They have plenty more to do for the next three days. Might as well rest while they can.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Namjoon mumbles, rubbing his nose against Jimin’s chest.

“Mhm,” Taehyung hums, leaving soft kisses over Jimin’s shoulder. “Thank you, Daddy,”

Jimin leaves a kiss on their foreheads, arms wrapping around their shoulders and hugging them tightly. “You both did so good, such good boys,” he whispers, feeling their legs curl around his, completely engulfed in their heat. “Took it so well, my pretty, pretty babies.”

Seconds later, they’re breathing soft and slow, and a minute after, Jimin’s world turns dark.

Jimin stirs from his sleep, feeling all warm and fuzzy. There’s something waking him up; skin electrified and covered in goosebumps, heat bleeding through his stomach. Jimin grumbles, stretching his arms over his head, and it only gets worse, like a tickle he can’t pinpoint, insistent enough for his toes to curl. His eyes start to flutter open and the next stimuli he gets is sound; some muffled moaning, the smack of lips.

Then he really feels it.

Jimin opens his eyes. The two of them are between his spread legs, disheveled and already flushed, eyes still puffy from sleep. Taehyung has Jimin’s dick in his mouth, properly coating it in spit, messy as always, and Namjoon is kissing and licking the inside of his thigh so softly, just barely grazing. The smell of sweat and sex hits him hard, and then he notices the bruises covering both of their bodies in all their naked glory. Up their shoulders, blossoming on their necks. Even some darker lines around Taehyung’s wrists. His babies bruise so easily. Last night wasn’t half as hard as he could go.

Fuck,” Jimin groans, voice raspy from sleep, hands reaching out to stroke Taehyung's hair with one hand, Namjoon’s cheek with the other. “You two are insatiable. Good m-” he stops himself with a grunt when Taehyung presses his tongue against the slit of his cock, Jimin’s hips rutting up instinctively, “—morning.”

“Good morning, Daddy,” they say at the same time, smiling adoringly.

But then they’re already moving, Jimin watching with inquisitive eyes as Taehyung pushes himself up on his knees, leg swung over his side to straddle his thighs as Namjoon places himself behind him. Large hands skimming over his stomach, trailing up to cup his chest. Taehyung’s long, hard dick rests above Jimin’s, ever so slightly rubbing against it. This sight first thing in the morning is what Jimin wishes to see every morning, his two horny babies already needy, just out of sleep, touching each other and looking at him with eyes full of desire no matter the time of day.

“Daddy didn’t fuck me with his cock yesterday,” Taehyung says, rolling his hips.

Jimin smirks. So that’s what this is about. These early surprises happen more often than not, but there’s a glint in Taehyung’s eyes that make it seem like there’s something more to it other than a mere good morning blowjob. Was he thinking about it all night long? Waiting for Jimin to wake so he could get what he wants? Poor little broken brat. How lovely that he still can’t put it into words after last night, that state of mind still lingering, knowing he shouldn’t be asking, just taking orders.

“And are you in any place to demand it?”

“I think Taetae deserves it,” Namjoon mumbles between soft kisses peppered over Taehyung’s shoulder. He looks so pretty, still sleepy and oh so gentle with him. “He’s been a good boy.”

“Is that so?” Jimin lets his hands travel up Taehyung’s plump thighs, nails digging down. He aches to bruise those, too. Maybe later, after breakfast. Order him not to squirm as he eats his meal and Jimin bites his thighs without mercy. God, his imagination is already running wild. “Then go ahead, slut. Do the work, if you’re that thirsty for Daddy’s dick.”

Taehyung whines, which is rare for him considering they just started. He’s not even talking back, no mischievousness in his traits. The usual smirk replaced by a pout, eyebrows furrowed tight. Jimin glances at Namjoon who seems a bit more grounded right now, in control. There’s an obvious question in Jimin’s eyes, and he gets a faint nod as a response.

Looks like they’ll both be taking care of him this morning. Perhaps last night was a little much on Taehyung. They’ll have to talk about it over breakfast. Right now, he clearly needs something else. Taehyung in subspace needs to be fucked stupid, which Jimin will gladly, and lovingly, do.

Namjoon is a submissive to the bone, but he can be of service when need be, like when Taehyung drops hard once in a blue moon. He’s soft and caring, soothing with his words in contrast to Jimin who never lets go of his harsh demeanor towards him. The kind gestures take place after they’re done, they were clear on that from the start. Taehyung needs that kind of hurt from Jimin, no matter how deep he is, right up until the end of the scene. Just the fact that he called Jimin ‘Daddy’ indicates that he’s there already, that it’s what he wants. If not, he would’ve called him by his name.

“Joonie, would you kindly fetch me the-”

“I’m prepped,” Taehyung breathes out, precum dribbling out of the head of his cock and onto Jimin’s. “Please.”

“He is,” Namjoon adds, licking up the shell of Taehyung’s ear, thumbs pressing against his perked nipples. “I woke up and he was fingering himself open for you, Daddy. Such a good, needy boy.”

Oh. Jimin’s eyes darken. “Then what the fuck are you waiting for, bitch? Ride my dick.”

Taehyung bites down another whine and maneuvers himself, aligning his ass with Jimin’s cock. Jimin just watches him, feeling that warmth bleed through his chest, that raging hunger never quite satiated. Especially when Taehyung is like this; asking to be fucked as if his life depends on it, won’t survive otherwise. And then there’s Namjoon delicately stroking every inch of his exposed skin, plump lips pressed against his neck, tongue tracing the discolorations over its length.

Namjoon really does have a soft spot for Taehyung, Jimin doesn’t think he could be mean with him even if ordered to. Namjoon is very caring in nature, spoils Taehyung just as much as Jimin spoils them. Jimin isn’t sure why, but he finds it incredibly attractive whenever Namjoon takes on this role, perhaps because it’s so different from their usual dynamic; Taehyung turning into the needy baby and Namjoon being a bit more in charge. It’s always very sweet and gentle, all whispered praises and delicate caresses, but still holds a meaningful weight.

Just as the head of his dick catches onto Taehyung’s rim, Jimin slaps his hands around Taehyung’s waist, grips down on them and snaps his hips up hard. Taehyung’s entire body shudders as a loud sob rips through his throat, weight going forward but held back by Namjoon. He’s whispering something in Taehyung’s ear, eyes half-lidded and brimming with adoration. Jimin might have asked him to ride his dick, but he just can’t help it, seeing Taehyung like that. All he wants to do is fuck him to tears, make him scream until he can’t anymore. And so he keeps his grip tight, hard enough to bruise, keeps thrusting up into him with all the strength he can muster. Taehyung yelps and cries, legs shaking incessantly, desperate hands clawing at either Jimin or Namjoon’s arms wrapped around him. It sounds as if he’s trying to say something, maybe thank his Daddy for how good he’s fucking him, maybe trying to say how good it feels, but it all comes out a jumbled, mumbled mess, and it only spurs Jimin on further.

Then he’s hit with another, even better idea. A big kink of Taehyung's that they haven’t done in a while. What a perfect opportunity, how devastating it will be when he’s like this. He might just pass out.

“I don’t think a cock-thirsty slut like our little Taetae here is satisfied with just one,” Jimin grunts, snapping his hips up. “Joonie?”

They exchange a glance and Namjoon swallows hard, nodding once. No need for orders, he knows exactly what Jimin implied. Taehyung hasn’t even caught on, eyes fluttering shut as he keeps bouncing up and down, cock heavy and leaking precum. Jimin can’t wait to see the look on his face when Namjoon’s thick cock presses into him, too. He’s taken both many times before, but with a bit more prep. Maybe this burn, this pain will be what takes him over the edge, what he needs to properly break.

Jimin slows down his rhythm when Namjoon’s hands slip off, Taehyung taking the chance to catch his breath. He’s panting, licking his dry lips and blinking slowly, coming back down. Hair sticks to his forehead and neck, chest and cheeks flushed red. Jimin smears the sweat trickling between his chest downwards until he’s scratching over his stomach, growing impatient as he glances to the side to see Namjoon digging through the sheets and finding the bottle of lube. He pumps a heavy amount onto his cock, plump lips pressed together as he pumps himself to properly coat it. He must be feeling so needy, too, watching all of this unfold. Jimin will be sure to thank him accordingly later.

Namjoon pushes down on Taehyung’s back to get a better angle, sliding closer. Taehyung blinks, confused, looking down at Jimin just underneath him. Jimin brushes Taehyung’s hair back behind his ear before trailing lower, wrapping around his throat.

And then he smiles.

Taehyung’s eyes abruptly widen as a sharp gasp is pulled right out of him, but Jimin’s hand is tightening, constricting the passage for air. He feels Namjoon’s cock slide against his own, and it’s hard not to focus on that and relish in the impossible tightness, all that wet heat, but there’s a hammering heartbeat under his fingertips that requires his attention first and foremost.

Take it,” Jimin whispers, holding onto Taehyung’s unfocused gaze. “Take it like the fucking whore you are.” Then he lets go of Taehyung’s neck, watching him as he gasps for air, drool trickling down the corner of his lips. “Thrust.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, bottoms out in one sharp thrust, all of his eight inches deep inside Taehyung’s stretched ass. It knocks the little air left in his lungs right out, and Taehyung’s coughing hard, tears brimming his pretty dark eyes. The look on his face is devastating, completely broken down and pathetic, bottom lip quivering and yet so serene, eyes rolling back as a single tear trickles down the side of his face. Jimin pushes himself up to lick it off then presses his lips against Taehyung’s ear.

“Bet you could take another cock up your ass, huh? That’s all you’re good for. Taking dick like a fucking slut, pumped full of cum. We could break your ass and you’d thank us, yeah? Even if you’d be useless, you’d love it.”

“Y-yes Daddy,” Taehyung manages to mumble between two sobs. “Break m-me, please.”

Jimin nods at Namjoon, and they both start moving.

If this is how the weekend starts, he can’t wait to see how it will end.