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go all day, go all night (i'm a beast)

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The first time Jimin hears footsteps outside, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest. They didn’t have a schedule, but it was Jimin’s understanding that the others had decided to get out and get some much needed sunlight instead of being cooped up and sunbathing from behind the glass sliding door in their dorm. So he had opted for extra sleep time, because they all know he’s been practicing until all hours and no one complains. Jimin recognizes these footsteps, though. They’re too light to be Taehyung, but too quick to be Yoongi.

 

Hoseok.

 

Jimin whines under his breath a little bit, left hand tapping irritably at his inner thigh as he debates with himself. His right hand is still wrapped snugly around his length, thumb hovering over his drooling slit, about to swipe at the precum that shouldn’t be leaking more now that he knows he’s not alone in the dorm. Now that he knows Hoseok probably heard him moaning. Now that he knows Hoseok knows exactly when he let go, when his voice pitched higher and stuttered when he flicked his wrist good enough to send his hips canting off the bed.

 

He can feel the blush spreading across his cheeks without having to see it, biting at his already swollen bottom lip. Hoseok’s feet are shuffling around now, much closer to the door and Jimin is hyper aware of the way the way the older has now stopped outside of his door. Jimin groans, hand flying up to muffle the sound into the back of his hand. There’s tension hanging heavily in the air, his own anticipation mingling with something Jimin swears must be Hoseok’s, and he wonders if Hoseok knows Jimin is aware of his presence.

 

If Hoseok knows that it’s making him even harder.

 

Jimin moans airily and continues to pump himself, shaking with excitement and thumbing at the ridge and the vein on the underside of his length. Jimin can’t bring himself to pretend he doesn’t hear Hoseok’s zipper when it’s pulled down and thought of Hoseok palming himself to the sounds Jimin is making has Hoseok’s name on the tip of Jimin’s tongue, daring him to let go. Jimin’s pace falters as his teeth set to worrying at his bottom lip, toes curling and muscles flexing as he wills himself to last just a little bit longer. Long enough to live a fantasy he’s never dared to think all the way through.

 

It’s not as though Jimin hasn’t gotten off to Hoseok before- thinking of the toned muscle he keeps hidden on camera, the mean spark in his eye when he smirks and gets a little too close to Jimin to be considered friendly and god the way he fucking moves. Jimin rolls Hoseok’s name around on his tongue the way he has many nights before, wondering how much nicer it’d sound if he didn’t keep it to a whisper.

 

Jimin makes up his mind, blush sinking down to his neck and resting duskily on his chest. “Hoseok hyung,” He growls after a well timed flick of his wrist and upward stroke. “Fuck.”

 

He feels something like pride bubble up in his chest when he hears Hoseok suck in a breath through the slick sounds his hand is making. So Jimin tries it again, letting Hoseok’s name slip out again and again, a harsh staccato timed to every slide of his hand. Jimin feels his voice drifting closer to a whine when he realizes just how hot he finds it to hear his own voice so thoroughly wrecked, desperate and needy.

 

He thinks he catches a murmured curse from outside the room as he's thumbing roughly at the tip, gasping without being able to catch the sound before it’s out and rocking his hips up desperately. Jimin wonders if Hoseok is close as well, as the latter's name slurs into something almost indistinguishable from every other moan the closer he gets to the edge.

 

Jimin's orgasm hits him faster and harder than he expects it to, back arching almost painfully and cum painting all the way up to his chin in thick white strips. He shakes through the entirety of it, dazedly murmuring curses mixed with Hoseok's name as he drags a finger through the sticky substance. Jimin’s eyes flutter a bit as he imagines Hoseok’s dick instead of his finger, wondering if Hoseok tastes as good as he looks like he does.

 

He moans a little louder than he needs to around his finger when he sucks on it, curling his tongue and smiling around the digit when he hears the door to the bathroom shutting and the shower coming on. Jimin debates on getting up and loitering outside the door as Hoseok had as he wipes the cum from his stomach with a tissue. The thought is so appealing it almost startles Jimin, the idea of listening in quickly turning to imagining himself joining Hoseok in the shower.

 

However, shaky legs and a too familiar droop to his eyes reminds Jimin that his hormones aren’t quite enough to keep him running without at least a little break for some sleep. Bemoaning this unfortunate circumstance, Jimin vows to take the next opportunity he gets, sleepy or not.

 

When Jimin wakes up from his nap, it's afternoon and he finds himself padding into the living room, sated and rubbing the remains of sleep from his eyes. He doesn't bother pretending to be surprised when he feels a chest brush against his back. The familiar warmth is enough to have a pleased purr stuck in Jimin’s throat, leaning into the touch just enough to feel the rumble of a voice against his back.

 

"Hey Jiminnie, want some lunch?"

 

Jimin tilts his head back to look at Hoseok, eyes flicking from the confident set of the older's mouth to his eyes and back. Hoseok has always had a habit of wearing his heart in his expression, and this is no different. Jimin can’t help the nervous thrill he gets from knowing he’s the one who’s left Hoseok with darkening eyes and a predatory glint in them.

 

"Yeah," He replies after a long moment, biting his lip in a lazy attempt to stop his grin. "I'm sure you burned a lot of calories today hyung. Let's go eat."

 

Jimin holds Hoseok’s gaze just long enough, apparently, watching Hoseok’s jaw set as his frame stiffens with restraint. Jimin wonders if Hoseok is bothered by the not-so-subtle hint Jimin has dropped about knowing exactly what happened, or if he’s just trying to pretend he isn’t hyperaware of how Jimin’s lips wrap around his words. (Or how much he’d like them to wrap around something else.)

 

Hoseok suggests they go get street food, since they’re never really allowed it during normal schedules, and Jimin cringes internally because his body will not thank him later when he’s doing an infinite number of sit ups to rid himself of the remnants of said foods. He agrees, of course, shrugging on his coat and toeing on his shoes beside Hoseok, skin prickling from the thick tension settling between them.

 

Hoseok ends up getting a swirled potato for himself, adding cheese and salt as his toppings of choice while Jimin grabs tteokbokki. Luckily, the dorm is close enough to get in and out relatively quickly, without worrying about being spotted by a stray fan.

 

Of course, their sunglasses, large hats, and face masks are also usually pretty good at helping with that too.

 

By the time they make it inside, Jimin half expects some of the others to be home. He’s surprised- and relieved, pride be damned- to find the dorm just as empty as they’d left it. Jimin plops down onto the floor at the table in their livingroom, snapping the wooden chopsticks he’d been given and eagerly wolfing down the first bit of his food.

 

He’s stopped in his tracks, however, by the way Hoseok’s gaze is burning into him unrelenting and anything but subtle. Jimin forces himself to look up, dragging his tongue along his lips only partially to catch some of the sauce from his food. Hoseok’s eyes narrow a bit, pretending to be unimpressed, but Jimin can see his grip tightening on the potato swirl he’s got in his hand.

 

“Hey hyung,” Jimin breaks the tense silence and almost wishes he hadn’t, voice dropped to a lower timbre than he’s used to and he knows too well that Hoseok can tell. “Gimmie some.”

 

Hoseok rolls his eyes, a bit of humor sparking in them as he debates. Jimin forces a cringe-worthy pout, and Hoseok gives in. Jimin expects Hoseok to hold the stick out, potato facing towards him so he can take a bite. Instead, he watches in slight disbelief as Hoseok tears a piece of it off and extends his hand, one eyebrow raised in question.

 

“Open.”

 

Something hot drops into Jimin’s gut and he lets his mouth fall open with a soft pop, hot breath fanning over Hoseok’s fingers as he places the food in Jimin’s mouth. Hoseok looks entirely too intense, too smug and Jimin feels the burning need to take him down a peg. Hoseok lets the digit rest on Jimin’s bottom lip as he swallows, pressing softly against the plush flesh.Jimin catches the tip of Hoseok’s finger between his lips in retaliation, tongue sliding along the pad and around it, sucking softly to get the last bit of flavor off.

 

Hoseok lets out a breathy curse and Jimin grins, sucking it a bit further into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks out just enough to have Hoseok glaring hard at him. He brings one hand up to catch Hoseok’s wrist before he can pull it away, licking the finger clean before Hoseok brings another finger up.

 

Jimin’s heart stutters at the bold act, body heating up as he tastes the food on his tongue once more, mixed with something very much Hoseok and he catches himself humming around the digits. Hoseok bites down on his lip, eyes hooded as he watches Jimin’s little show, all tongue rolling and sucking and definitely obscene.

 

It isn’t until the door knob rattles that Hoseok hastily pulls his fingers away. Jimin’s chest swells with pride when Hoseok stands and the tent in his pants is painfully obvious. Even as Hoseok tugs his shirt down and greets the others like he hadn’t just gotten hard watching Jimin give his fingers a pseudo-blowjob.

 

Jimin cackles through a mouthful of tteokbokki when, upon being clung to, Namjoon pointedly comments that maybe Hoseok should hit the showers first.





The next time Jimin hears footsteps, he's only surprised because Taehyung had been sound asleep when Jimin settled into their shared room with Jeongguk. The youngest is out like a light- a heavy sleeper since birth, Jimin assumes- so he hadn't even thought of having to deal with Jeongguk when he let his hands play at the edge of his tank top. Jimin's busy dragging his nails down his abdomen, breath hitching softly every time he lets his fingers trail that much further into his boxers, when he sees Taehyung sit up in his bed.

 

Jimin freezes, biting his tongue to keep a surprised noise from slipping through. He watches warily as Taehyung scoots to the edge, glancing in Jimin's general direction before slipping out of the room. The older boy is on pins and needles waiting for Taehyung to return, skin crawling with anticipation and burning with the need to continue what he started, or leave himself unsatisfied go to sleep.

 

Taehyung returns what feels like an eternity later just as Jimin is letting his nails resume dragging along his body, this time torturing himself with touches to the soft, taut skin surrounding his barely-grown-back happy-trail. His fingers still only slightly upon hearing the door click open and shut, hidden under the security of his blanket.

 

Taehyung settles back into his bed with a soft sigh, shifting uncomfortably from time to time before Jimin hears a raspy voice.

 

"Jimin, you up?"

 

Jimin debates on what to do. He could pretend to be asleep, let Taehyung fall asleep faster without worrying about keeping up a conversation. Or he could respond, and continue to touch himself knowing Taehyung could catch on.

 

It turns out his decision isn't as hard the second time, breath catching in his throat as a new wave of heat hits him and pools in his gut. Exhibitionism is growing on me. The thought has Jimin biting back a smirk.

 

Jimin hums in response, turning on his side to look over at Taehyung's bed. The other is blinking what Jimin assumes to be sleep from his eyes, licking at his lips while Jimin’s eyes hungrily follows the motion. He slips one hand a bit lower, teasing himself with feather light touches to his v-lines, fingers trailing along the slope of his muscle and ghosting by where he wants them only to slip back up.

 

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Taehyung frowns a bit, propping his head up on one palm so he can look at Jimin more easily. “It’s funny how we get so used to a small amount of sleep that being able to actually get to sleep on nights like this is hard.”

 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jimin allows himself a breathy laugh, fingers wrapping around his length as he speaks. “Maybe you should watch a show or something to help tire yourself out.”

 

“I’m already all caught up on the dramas I want to watch by myself, though. It’s no fun without other people to react with me.”

 

“Hmm,” He pretends to ponder for a moment, dragging his hand up along his length in one slow experimental pull. It takes a good chunk of self control for Jimin to bite back his groan, stomach flipping in anticipation as he hopes his delayed response can be passed off as a sluggish mind from exhaustion, rather than arousal. “Well you could wake up Jeonggukkie-” He whines quietly at the thought of the both of them hearing things they shouldn’t hear, quickly covering it up in a forced cough. “-But I think by the time you actually got him up, you’d be tired.”

 

“Jiminnie, why don’t you watch something with me then?” Taehyung has a waver to his voice, the one he uses when he really wants something and the sigh that escapes Jimin is only partly a result of said tone as his hand stutters on his dick. “I mean you’re awake and all, so it’s not like you have anything better to be doing.”

 

If only you knew, Jimin hums to himself, glancing over at Taehyung again and shooting him a little smile. It could be fun, he thinks, trying to keep quiet, to keep his body from jerking and shuddering too much with Taehyung right next to him.

 

“Yeah, alright Taetae. C’mere then, ‘cause I’m not getting up.”

 

Taehyung scrambles to his feet with all the grace of an over-excited puppy, and Jimin feels his heart flutter at the sight. Taehyung is cute all the time, of course, but times like these are Jimin’s favorite. Times where even the simplest things the other boy does are enough to have a flush rising to his cheeks and a fondness curling in his chest because it’s just so Taehyung of him.

 

The bed dips and Jimin has just enough time to arrange his body so that Taehyung won’t see anything he isn’t looking for as the latter tugs the blankets up. He presses himself against Jimin just enough to have pleasant skin-on-skin friction on their just barely tangled legs, Taehyung’s shirt riding up where it rests against Jimin’s side

 

Jimin moves his arm to drape it across Taehyung’s chest, angling his hand so he can stroke lightly against Taehyung’s jaw and neck. Taehyung licks his lips and smiles more to himself than at Jimin, almost shy as he picks the show to watch.

 

Luckily, Taehyung sets the phone on his own stomach, so Jimin is free to shift a bit again, turning slightly onto his side and giving himself an experimental pump. The way his body responds is much better than before, skin tingling where Taehyung’s touches it. He catches himself trying to close his eyes, blinking quickly and focusing on the screen.

 

Taehyung is just reactive enough to make it alright for Jimin to get away with lazy noises and gasps, well timed, but not at all related to the drama they’re watching. Taehyung snuggles a bit closer to Jimin about ten minutes into the show, leg fitting itself between Jimin’s, just shy of too high up.

 

Jimin pretends that when his thighs momentarily clench around Taehyung’s leg it’s because of the show, not because he’s subtly trying to rock his hips lower. The feeling of Taehyung’s own thigh so so close, but not close enough is almost maddening, and Jimin nearly drools at the heat he can feel from the other boy’s close proximity.

 

Jimin drags the pad of his thumb along the head of his cock, lips parting just enough to suck in a breath as he smears the precum. Taehyung glances over at Jimin to gauge his reaction to a certain scene, and Jimin has never been more grateful for awful phone lighting and the darkness of their room because the flush on his cheeks is too deep to be residual from an embarrassing or surprising scene.

 

After shooting Taehyung a small smile and quickly turning his attention back to the movie, Jimin can feel the other relaxing a bit more next to him, pressing his face into Jimin’s neck and sighing softly before bringing the phone closer.

 

“Is this okay?”

 

Jimin pauses a moment at the words. “What?”

 

“I mean, can you still see?”

 

He knows Taehyung feels more than hears the little laugh he gives, but he also knows Taehyung can’t tell it’s out of nervousness because the latter is close enough to hear the beats his heart skips, how quickly it’s thundering against his chest and pulsing through his veins.

 

“Yeah Taetae, I can.”

 

Taehyung hums happily and Jimin’s breathing stutters when Taehyung’s fingers ghost along his shirt and underneath the fabric, cold hands a shock compared to how hot Jimin’s skin is burning.

 

“Asshole,” Jimin whines, quickly withdrawing his hand from his underwear because now Taehyung is too close and Jimin isn’t about to literally get caught with his hand down his pants.

 

“My hands are really cold,” Taehyung pouts back, rotating his body enough to allow him to look directly up at Jimin. “And you’re really hot.”

 

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” He mutters, licking his lips because yeah, his mouth is a little bit dry now that Taehyung is nearly halfway on him, leg inched up high enough to where if Jimin rolls his hips down he’d be able to achieve that delicious friction that his body is screaming for.

 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, eyes lingering on Jimin’s lips for a moment too long, a funny smile curling his lips. Jimin’s heart is beating uneven as ever when Taehyung’s lips part a bit, wearing that glazed over, spaced out look for a moment too long before he’s snapping out of it and mumbling something about being really tired.

 

The smaller nods, knowing damn well what it is that’s got Taehyung staring at him like his next meal rather than like his best friend, but choosing to keep it to himself. Taehyung’s gaze drifts reluctantly back to the show, and Jimin’s fingers find the head of his cock again, this time through his underwear. His breath hitches when he kneads his thumb against the slit, a wet spot growing quickly on the fabric.

 

Taehyung’s cold hands are quickly warming, tracing shapes onto Jimin’s skin. Jimin wants to curse at him, wants to complain because god Tae, you don’t know what you’re doing to me, but the nagging voice at the back of Jimin’s mind tells him that Taehyung knows damn well what he’s doing. Jimin bites his lip, ignoring the way his stomach quivers under Taehyung’s fingers when they dip low enough to reach the sensitive skin.

 

He hears Taehyung’s breath hitch softly at the way Jimin’s body reacts to his touch, flexing and jumping and wielding to him even in the smallest of ways. Jimin whines breathily, scraping together a useless excuse of just pouting because I can’t see with you in the way, when Taehyung’s head snaps up to catch Jimin’s gaze.

 

Yeah, Taehyung knows what the hell he’s doing.

 

Jimin stifles the growl threatening to rumble in his chest, hips jerking slightly as he pumps himself lazily through his underwear, overstimulation and sensitivity getting the better of him. Taehyung’s leg drags against his own in response, an unsubtle reminder that he’s fidgeting too much. Jimin sucks in a sharp breath, praying the stutter in his breath isn’t too noticeable because he’s so close and fuck, “Taehyung.”

 

He’s too busy coming down from the post orgasmic high to care too much about the stickiness in his underwear just yet, or the way Taehyung’s entire body stiffened, nails digging into Jimin slightly as he rasps out a “...What was that for?”

 

Taehyung’s voice is too husky to be innocent, and the press of his dick to Jimin’s hip isn’t exactly subtle either, but Jimin will give him credit for not jumping to conclusions.

 

No matter how correct the conclusion may or may not be.

 

Jimin’s tone drips with his grin, smug and charged with a tension that shouldn’t exist between best friends or bandmates.

 

“I think you know, Tae.”

 

Taehyung’s eyes widen at that, turning to look at Jimin directly before letting his gaze fall to Jimin’s lips again.

 

“You were getting heavy, putting my arm to sleep, that’s all.”

 

Jimin knows Taehyung doesn’t miss the lie, knows the heat he can feel radiating from Taehyung isn’t from being under a blanket, knows the bob of his adam’s apple is just for Jimin. He loves it.

 

(What he doesn’t love, however, is the dried cum he suddenly remembers in the morning, curled up against Taehyung with the disgusting mess still in his underwear. It’s probably Karma, Jimin thinks.)




The third time he hears footsteps, it’s accompanied by the door opening and Jimin nearly snarling because he’s in the middle of something, can’t your need to piss wait, but it’s Yoongi and the answer is definitely no. Jimin glowers at the shower curtain before turning to rest his forehead against the tile, huffing a sigh. It isn’t as though there aren’t two bathrooms in their new dorm. It also isn’t as though Yoongi doesn’t know that Jimin had chosen to shower last for a reason, and Jimin tries damn hard to pretend he doesn’t feel any type of way about that.

 

“Hyung,” Jimin whines, irritable as he desperately chases his orgasm, soaped up hand pumping his length through the strange feeling in his stomach that tells him this time, he could get caught much easier than before. There’s just a shower curtain between them rather than clothes and a blanket, or a door. “Could you at least wait to flush until I’m done? Or give me warning so I can step out of the- fuck!”

 

He yelps and nearly slips and falls, the jolt of cold water coupled with the flush of the toilet startling Jimin, and his manners. Yoongi’s laughing loudly as he zips his pants back up, and Jimin sees red.

 

Tugging the curtain aside just enough to peek out, Jimin turns the spray of water at Yoongi briefly, shooting the older a glare. Yoongi’s head snaps up from where he’d been looking at the sink, eyes widening in disbelief for a moment. He tugs the wet fabric of his shirt from against his skin before letting it fall into place again pitifully.

 

“Park Jimin, you little shit,”

 

“You deserved it, hyung.” Jimin grumbles, tugging the curtain closed again. The grip he has on his length tightens again as he rolls his hips, fucking into his fist without waiting for the sound of Yoongi’s retreat. He knows that Yoongi is too small to retain body heat long enough to be okay in a wet shirt during the winter, heater on in the dorms or otherwise.

 

Jimin swipes his thumb along the head when his hand reaches it, dragging his palm over it and twisting on the downstroke. He groans into the back of his free hand in time with the soft click of the bathroom door closing, thighs flexing as he bucks upwards. The slick heat of the soapy water mixed with the strange surge of irritation Yoongi had left Jimin with curling into his gut is enough to have Jimin’s wrist flicking faster.

 

The next sound that passes Jimin’s lips is guttural, forehead meeting the tiles once more. He watches through hazy eyes as the ceramic fogs up, pressing his overheating body closer to the cold surface and shivering at the added sensation, heightening his pleasure more than he’d anticipated.

 

He lets his eyes flutter shut to the thought of Yoongi insisting that no, Jimin had gotten him all wet, and he may as well join the younger instead. He whimpers in the back of his throat, imagining Yoongi’s fingers pressing bruises into his hips, that rough daegu accent tickling his ears as Yoongi whispers filth into them.

 

Jimin’s body trembles under his own touch, one hand dragging down his skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake and sending goosebumps along the abused skin. Jimin turns to press his cheek against the tile, shuddering a whine as he thinks of how nice it would be to have Yoongi’s hand against his neck, pushing his face into the wall and god, spreading his legs further.

 

His body moves of it’s own accord, feet slipping a bit further apart, back arching because he wants to feel those magic hands spreading him, teasing at his entrance and sliding in nice and slow. Jimin groans, jerking his hips forward sloppily, biting at his lips to keep himself quiet while the imagined Yoongi fucks him with one, two then three fingers. He squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees colors, willing himself not to climax and not having the self-discipline for it.

 

It doesn’t take Jimin long to let himself break, cumming with a long and low moan that sounds a little bit too much like Yoongi’s name. He smiles around the syllables as they roll off of his tongue, the taste of them adding a hitch to his breath and a lilt to his tone. He brings his hand up to his mouth, sucking the sticky substance from his skin and humming contentedly.

 

There’s some on the tile, he realizes, frowning a bit because yeah that would definitely be nasty to have one of the other members come in and find. He hastily wipes it off and rinses his hand, a bit disappointed to waste it but ultimately needing to get out of the shower before he gets yelled at.

 

He towels off quickly and throws on the clean sweat pants he’d brought in, swinging the door open only to be greeted with Yoongi’s lazy stare.

 

“Oh,” Shit, Jimin thinks, because an angry Yoongi is never a good one.

 

“You should consider covering your mouth when you’re in a room that echoes as much as the bathroom,” Yoongi drawls, eyes scaling Jimin’s body briefly before he’s back to Jimin’s eyes, eyebrow raising and that cocky fucking smirk curling his lips. “Not that I particularly mind it, kid, but you’re gonna give the others quite the show. Save that for the recording booth.”

 

Jimin flushes down to his chest, stunned into silence because he should have known that out of the three, Yoongi is the most direct when he says or does anything. Why should catching Jimin jacking it to the thought of him be any different? He curses mentally and watches as Yoongi pushes past him, not bothering to go out of his way to keep their shoulders from bumping.

 

He shakes off the feeling of excitement curling up his spine, because the list of emotions he should be feeling ranges from mortified to appalled and the giddiness dancing under his skin doesn’t quite make the cut.

 

Yoongi catches him alone again later that week inside the studio. They’d been practicing their new choreography, running over and over the first minute and thirty seconds Seungduk had taught until they could do it in their sleep.

 

“Actually,” Yoongi announces as they all collectively decide to head home for the day. “I think I need some more time with it.”

 

His eyes land on Jimin, and despite the way Hoseok opens his mouth to offer, Jimin knows he’s the only one Yoongi will accept to stay. It isn’t as though they’ve been avoiding each other since the shower incident, though. It’s almost exactly the opposite. Yoongi leaves him feathered touches in passing that have Jimin’s stomach coiling, goosebumps rising that have nothing to do with the coldness of Yoongi’s hands.

 

“I’ll help,” Jimin shrugs, as if it’s an afterthought and not an excuse for more charged touches. “I got it down pretty well anyway.”

 

The others exit quickly enough, nearly falling over each other as they scramble to keep the claims on shower time they’ve yelled out. Jimin locks eyes with Yoongi through the mirror before moving to stand in front of him.

 

He runs through the choreography once while Yoongi watches, too aware of the burn of Yoongi’s gaze on his skin. Jimin doesn’t need to glance over his shoulder to look at Yoongi- he really doesn’t, the mirror is right there- but he does and the hitch in his breath is lost under the heavy bass of the music echoing through the studio. Yoongi’s eyes are dark, but his face is composed, mirroring Jimin’s movements well and Jimin feels an odd surge of pride.

 

They go over the choreography until Jimin is dripping sweat all over again, shoulders and thighs tense and overworked and yeah, it’s time to lay down. Jimin groans a bit as he stretches out over the cool floor, turning his cheek so he can stare into the mirror and watch Yoongi, who’s busy drinking down water like he’s never had it before in his life. The older quirks an eyebrow at Jimin, tracing the lines of Jimin’s body before he moves to sit next to Jimin.

 

“You seem tense.” Yoongi’s voice is ragged and laced with pants, and Jimin has to clench his thighs a bit to remind himself not to put it into a context he can’t afford to have it in right now.

 

“Yeah, I should have stretched better.” Jimin frowns, stretching his arms out to the side and letting a little strangled noise slip past his lips.

 

“It’s kind of funny,” Yoongi leans over and presses his hands to one of Jimin’s outstretched arms, kneading at the muscle deftly. “You’re always the one with the most thorough stretches.”

 

Jimin hums at that, prompting the other to continue and letting his eyes droop a bit at the feeling of his aching muscles being tended to.

 

“Between how flexible you are, bending and twisting and holding poses that make me feel like dying from just watching them, and how much the others like pushing on you,” Yoongi presses down particularly hard and Jimin’s lips part in a shaky sigh. “I’d think you were pretty well stretched. Why is it that you’re less prepped today?”

 

Jimin isn’t missing the countless innuendos in Yoongi’s words, and by the time Yoongi’s fingers graze over his pulse-point, Jimin knows Yoongi can tell. The older doesn’t comment on it, though, he only moves back across and works at the knots in Jimin’s shoulders, digging in hard with his fingers and watching the way Jimin’s back arches with something Jimin can’t quite place.

 

There’s a prickling sensation running through Jimin’s nerves, pushing heat into his groin at an almost alarming rate as Yoongi’s fingers make their way to his back. Jimin groans quietly into the floor, pain and pleasure mingling and sending Jimin’s tired body into overdrive. Yoongi’s hands still for a moment, locking gazes with Jimin in the mirror once again.

 

Jimin shoots him a wolfish grin, because he knows exactly what Yoongi’s thinking, and how right Yoongi is in the assumptions he’s making. His grin falters and slides into a grimace when Yoongi reaches a particularly tender spot, not trusting his voice as he exhales sharply through his nose.

 

“It’s a wonder you’re so worked up, Jiminnie,” Yoongi’s voice breaks Jimin out of the trance he’d slowly been slipping into, the heels of his palms pressing into the middle of Jimin’s back as it arches. “I think there’s been plenty of stress relief lately, especially with how open our schedules have been”

 

Jimin hopes the way his hips press against the floor isn’t too obvious, frame trembling slightly as Yoongi applies more pressure. He’s rubbing hard circles into Jimin’s skin through his still damp shirt, and Jimin knows that about half of Yoongi’s weight is on him now.

 

He whines a little louder than he’d intended to when the pressure is removed, opening his mouth to protest only to choke out another noise when he registers Yoongi straddling his hips, hands dragging up and down Jimin’s skin.

 

“It’s easier this way, now I won’t miss anything.”

 

Jimin nods, licking his lips and watching Yoongi in the mirror. His breath quivers when he sees Yoongi’s hands moving further up until they rest on the back of Jimin’s neck, pressing tentatively at first before curling around. He catches himself whining out a please, watching his own reflection in the mirror. He’s almost in awe at how desperate and wrecked he looks over something as simple as a massage, hair still messy and damp, lips parted and glossy, eyes blown. He wonders if Yoongi thinks it’s as hot as he does.

 

“Please what, Jiminnie?” Yoongi tightens his grip, and there’s no way he didn’t feel the way Jimin’s hips jerked. His hands retreat all too soon, though, and Jimin feels frustration build in his chest.

 

It’s short lived, though, because Yoongi is sliding further down his body until he’s got his knees bracketed around Jimin’s calves, fingers working at Jimin’s thighs this time. Jimin’s body flexes under Yoongi’s touch, jumping and sensitive to each pull of Yoongi’s fingers against his clothing. He’s pressing roughly at Jimin’s upper thigh, just shy of his ass and it’s driving Jimin up a wall. He wiggles a little lower, prompting Yoongi to touch him where he needs it, a needy whine caught behind his teeth.

 

Yoongi’s hands leave him entirely, and Jimin half expects him to comply, heart racing as the anticipation builds until he sees the slope of Yoongi’s arm as his hand connects with Jimn’s ass. The sound is muted, but the pain is sharp as ever and Jimin cries out, something between a yelp and a moan and he feels his face heat up, the blush resting duskily on his already pink cheeks.

 

“You should know better,” Yoongi comments as he gets up, not even bothering to offer Jimin a hand. “But I can’t say I’m surprised.

 

Jimin finds himself on the floor still, ten minutes later with a hard-on pressing uncomfortably into the floor, and embarrassment coursing through his veins.




The fourth time Jimin hears footsteps, there end up being a total of three sets. They arrive at separate times.



Yoongi knows by now, the tell-tale signs when each member recluses themselves to a particular part of the dorm, or the studio for some private time. They all do. Yoongi has no qualms with it, given that he likes to have time to himself as well. However, Park Jimin’s private time tends to blur the lines between private and public far too often.

 

It’s not the first time Yoongi has walked by only to hear curses and moans dripping off the singer’s tongue. It’s not the first time he’s been a little too interested in those sounds either. Especially given that every time he’s passed by, those sounds have without fail twisted and curled into some form of his name.

 

He knows Jimin is well aware of the fact that Yoongi has heard him get off to Yoongi before, after their run in outside of the bathroom it’d be pretty hard for Yoongi or Jimin to pretend like nothing happened. Yoongi would say he doesn’t really care, except for the fact that he does. Not in the sense that Jimin’s in his bad book now or anything like that, but because ever since he first heard it he hasn’t been able to get the sounds to leave his thoughts. In the studio, at the dinner table, in the shower and in his dreams. Jimin is always there moaning and whimpering so prettily and so needily and nothing sounds better on his lips than Yoongi’s name. Not the filthy curses, or the stuttered oh god’s. Nothing.

 

Which is why, when Yoongi hears a husky moan, muffled only slightly by the door as he’s on his way to his own room, Yoongi finds himself stopped dead in his tracks. Yoongi’s heart rate kicks up a few notches as he listens, a little lilting moan that pitches into a laugh going straight to his dick. He bites the inside of his cheek and leans against the wall, struggling to come to terms with what he’s doing once again. No matter how knowledgeable Jimin is to his position hovering just outside, Yoongi can’t help but feel entirely too perverted for being a voyeur to his bandmate’s jack off session.

 

He breathes a sigh through his nose, hand slipping down to palm lazily at his dick as he listens, despite the little voice reminding him that there are other members home and he’ll have a hard time explaining his way out of something like this. Yoongi also reminds himself that Seokjin and Namjoon are watching a documentary in his and Seokjin’s shared room, while Taehyung and Hoseok play something on their DS’ and Jeongguk catches a nap on Yoongi’s bed.

 

It’s perfect, but it’s not.

 

Yoongi wants to be in the room to watch Jimin fall apart, to feel him shaking under Yoongi’s hands, because of Yoongi’s hands. He swallows down a moan at the thought, eyes threatening to slip shut as he wraps his hand around his still-clothed length.

 

“Hyung?” Taehyung’s voice wavers, snapping Yoongi out of his momentary bliss. Yoongi shushes him hastily and tilts his head towards the door.

 

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi’s eyes narrow at the way Taehyung sounds almost disappointed.

 

“I could as you that,” Yoongi bites back, defensive and a little on edge because he’s still so turned on and Taehyung is preventing him from relieving himself properly.

 

“You could.” Taehyung counters. Cheeky fuck.

 

“Well?”

 

“I…” He looks bashful and Yoongi is filled with a smug pride for it. “...The same thing you’re doing.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

Fuck,” Jimin’s moan has the two of them promptly shutting up, eyes snapping over to the door and listening hard. “Tae,”

 

It’s Taehyung’s turn to look smug, and Yoongi just rolls his eyes because his name had been on Jimin’s lips mere moments ago, Taehyung’s being on it now won’t change that.

 

“He sounds so good, doesn’t he?” Taehyung murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he speaks.

 

Yoongi stares at Taehyung, disbelief coloring his features because is Taehyung expecting them to have a conversation about how hot Jimin sounds while he’s getting off to the thought of them, while Yoongi is still very much hard in his pants, with a hand still on his length?

 

“God,” Taehyung’s voice drops and takes Yoongi’s stomach with it, sending a swirl of new emotions that Yoongi doesn’t want to deal with currently. He’s got more pressing matters to focus on than the way this situation has him leaking precum.

 

Taehyung slips a hand into his own pants, a hell of a lot less shy than Yoongi appears to be- he isn’t, he’s just pensive- and shrugs when Yoongi’s eyebrows raise.

 

You were doing it, weren’t you? He doesn’t need to open his mouth to shoot the silent accusation, and Yoongi has to admit he has a point.

 

Yoongi leans his back against the wall and strokes himself through the fabric of his pants still, the need to tease himself greater than the need to have Taehyung not think he’s shy with no reason to be. He finds himself watching the motion of Taehyung’s hand as Jimin whimpers behind the door, his own grip tightening because Taehyung is tugging his pants down a little lower.

 

He’s so caught up in staring that he doesn’t notice until Taehyung jumps, that Hoseok has joined their peep show of sorts.

 

“I wish I could say I was surprised,” Hoseok grins, and it’s predatory as he locks eyes with Yoongi over Taehyung’s shoulder where he rests his chin. “But I’m really not.”

 

Hoseok loops his arms around Taehyung’s waist and presses himself closer, forcing a gasp from Taehyung as he does so. Taehyung’s pace stutters, hand stilling momentarily as Hoseok’s nose grazes his jaw.

 

“And here I was thinking that getting to listen to Jiminnie was the hottest thing,” Hoseok hums, and Yoongi wonders where he’s getting his damn confidence from. The way Taehyung is practically jello in his arms, however, is quite the answer.

 

“You two, on the other hand… well,” Yoongi feels his cheeks heating under the weight of Hoseok’s stare. “I don’t mind sharing if this is the result.”

 

Jimin’s breath catches on Hoseok’s name and Yoongi stares, just shy of slack-jawed as he rocks his hips up. Taehyung’s hand flies up to find purchase on the wall, bracing himself to keep Hoseok’s weight from throwing him off balance.

 

“Is this…” Hoseok speaks up again, “Is this okay with you guys? It’s hot as fuck, not gonna lie, but,” He lets the sentence hang in the air, an open invitation and Taehyung responds by rocking his hips back, humming his consent while all Yoongi can do is nod wordlessly.

 

He’s okay with it. In all honesty, he’s more than okay with it, but it’s a lot for him to process happening at once. Too much, no, but a lot. Hoseok’s hand slips into Taehyung’s pants, hesitating just under the hem until Taehyung guides his hand lower. The younger hastily tugs his underwear and pants down to rest low enough for Hoseok to tug his dick free from the fabric entirely. Yoongi’s mouth goes dry and he bites down on a whine, his own hand slipping past the elastic band of his underwear, foregoing the normal routine he’d usually do entirely because he doesn’t have the restraint at this point.

 

Jimin keens particularly loud when Hoseok moans against Taehyung’s neck, hips rolling, punctuated by little gasps from the latter. Yoongi can’t fight the noises that spill past his lips, thumb swiping over the slit of his cock and smearing the precum there. He rocks his hips up, eyes hooded and watching as Hoseok makes Taehyung shake.

 

“Why don’tcha get a little closer, Yoongi hyung,” Hoseok’s smile is inviting, and the way Taehyung bites his lip is too. “Taehyungie and I will make you feel so good.”

 

Yoongi whimpers at the way Hoseok is talking to him, so sure and soft yet so fucking dominant at the same time. It should be the other way around- Yoongi should be the one in charge by birthright alone, but Hoseok is reaching out with his free hand, and Yoongi’s self control has never really been that great anyways.

 

He closes the distance between them, pulling himself out of his underwear and choking out a whimper when Taehyung licks his hand and joins Yoongi’s on his length, fingers wrapping just tight enough and Yoongi’s mind is spinning.

 

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, repeating himself at the sound of Jimin’s high pitched moan because it’s too unreal, them getting off to Jimin, Jimin getting off to them getting off to him. It sounds like a bad porno but it’s so fucking good.

 

“I don’t know who’s more filthy,” Hoseok rasps out, hips rocking against Taehyung in earnest now as he echoes Yoongi’s thoughts. “You two,” He flicks his wrist up in a way that has Taehyung crying out loud enough for Yoongi to slap a hand over his mouth. “Or Jiminnie.”

 

Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut and he drags his tongue along Yoongi’s hand, grabbing it with the hand that isn’t currently on Yoongi’s dick and turning it so he can suck two fingers into his mouth. Yoongi’s breath stutters at the sight, the wet heat is too easy to imagine lower, replacing his and Taehyung’s hands.

 

“Taehyung, holy shit-” Yoongi starts but doesn’t finish, Hoseok’s hand fisting into his hair and dragging him into a kiss. It’s sloppy and rough, too much teeth for a first kiss but the bruising is welcomed and Hoseok greedily swallows the moan Yoongi gives him.

 

“You’re too loud,” Hoseok scolds, grip on Yoongi’s hair tightening enough to drag out a moan as he sucks on Taehyung’s neck. The pressure isn’t enough to leave marks, but it’s enough to have Taehyung rocking his hips forward, cock brushing against Yoongi’s.

 

Yoongi sucks in a breath and whines high in the back of his throat, eyes meeting Taehyung’s for the briefest of moments before he’s wrapping his hand around both of them and pumping hard and fast.

 

“I can’t,” Taehyung pants out, alternating between fucking into Yoongi’s fist and rocking back against Hoseok. “I’m so close,”

 

“Oh?” Hoseok seems pensive for a moment, lips brushing Taehyung’s ear before licking at the shell. “Why don’t you ask Jiminnie if he is too. You don’t wanna cum before he does, do you Taehyung-ah?”

 

Taehyung moans in response, forehead coming to rest on Yoongi’s shoulder. He’s hesitant for a moment, before one hand joins Hoseok’s in Yoongi’s hair- tugging at the back while Hoseok’s is fisted into Yoongi’s bangs. Yoongi sobs at the pain, pleasure overpowering it immediately and pushing him to the edge. He’s so close he could cry, and Taehyung and Hoseok don’t seem much better off.

 

“Fucking look at you two,” Hoseok mutters, and Yoongi finds himself nodding without being asked anything.

 

“Jiminnie,” Taehyung moans out, “Fuck, Jimin-” Taehyung’s free hand wraps around the base of his dick and he exhales hard. “Can I cum- please-”

 

The heady moan he gets in response is evidence enough of Jimin’s climax, and Taehyung aggressively chases his own immediately after, rocking his hips up into Yoongi’s hand, against his dick and the added friction sends both Yoongi and Taehyung over the edge. Yoongi is the first to let go, overstimulated and shaking, but Hoseok’s hold on his hair keeps him from moving away as he snaps his hips against Taehyung, barely lasting any longer than the other two before he’s growling out an expletive and pulling himself out just fast enough to miss cumming in his pants.




The fourth time Jimin hears footsteps, they’re his own. He’s stumbling to the door underwear hastily tugged on as he nearly trips over his own feet. He takes a deep breath, running over what he just heard outside again and again in his head before opening the door, and grabbing Yoongi’s wrist.

 

“Please,” He murmurs, giving each of them his best pleading look because he needs them all so badly it hurts, quite literally. Even after his orgasm, Jimin is still hard and he wants to cry a little bit because nothing is enough.

 

Luckily for Jimin, he doesn’t have to ask twice because Hoseok is pushing them all inside and the door shut. Taehyung’s hands cup Jimin’s cheeks, staring him down before leaning in for a sweet kiss. It’s gentle, but not without the same neediness coursing through Jimin’s body and he finds himself moaning into it.

 

Taehyung pushes him back onto what Jimin hopes is his own bed, kissing him once more before moving over and letting Yoongi take his place. The oldest fixes him with a look that’s so fond Jimin’s heart stutters in his chest, but the look is gone just as suddenly as it appears, swapped out for the same look he’d been giving Jimin in the dance studio. Jimin is ready for it when Yoongi kisses him, moving to meet him in the middle. He bites down on Yoongi’s lip and tugs, eager to hear the whimpers he’d heard outside, He’s rewarded with a gasp, and Jimin uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into Yoongi’s mouth. Jimin is severely disappointed when Yoongi pulls away, eyes blurry as he chases Yoongi’s lips. Hoseok nudges Yoongi to the side and smirks at Jimin.

 

“Turn over like a good boy.”

 

Jimin isn’t given much of a choice when Hoseok does the moving for him, a soft groan of approval slipping past his lips.

 

“Ass up,”

 

Jimin does as he’s told, moving so he’s on his knees with is chest still pressed to the bed, spreading his legs and waiting.

 

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Yoongi coos, pressing kisses to Jimin’s thighs while Taehyung kneads at Jimin’s ass. “God you’re so fucking pretty. I wanna taste you baby.”

 

Jimin moans at the thought, wiggling his ass back shamelessly, earning him a smack from the side he knows Hoseok is on. Hoseok tuts at him, tells him to be patient. Jimin wants to shake his head, wants to complain and mention how he’s been patient with all of them for weeks, but another sharp smack to his ass has him gasping out Hoseok’s name.

 

“You kinky little shit,” Hoseok laughs, fingers threading into Jimin’s hair to tug him up. “You fuckin’ like that, don’t you?”

 

“I-”

 

Hoseok’s hand comes down on the tender skin again, making Jimin’s thighs jump a bit.

 

“It’s a yes or no question. Let’s try that again. You like it, don’t you Jiminnie? You like it when hyung spanks you for being bad, right?”

 

“Yes,” Jimin gasps out, earning him a rewarding tug to his hair. “Fuck, I like it so much hyung.”

 

“That’s what I thought. You’re such a dirty boy, Jimin. I bet you want Yoongi hyung to eat you out, you wanna feel his tongue on you and in you. You wanna let him make you cry like that, don’t you baby?”

 

“Y-Yes,” His voice is barely a whimper, shaking as he feels Yoongi’s hot breath ghosting over his entrance through his underwear and jolting forward when his tongue presses down. “I want, I-”

 

“Tell hyung what you want, let him know exactly what you want him to do to you.” Hoseok encourages, free hand coming to rub a soothing circle on Jimin’s bare back.

 

“I want Yoongi hyung to fuck me with his tongue,” Jimin squirms under Yoongi’s ministrations, dick leaking precum as Yoongi pulls his briefs to the side and licks just shy of where Jimin wants him to. “I want hyung to make me feel good, fuck, please, hyung-” His voice hiccups into a moan as Yoongi complies, teasing pushed aside as he drags his tongue along Jimin’s entrance.

 

“So fucking filthy Jimin,” Hoseok’s voice is breathy, and Jimin can only hear Taehyung moaning softly beside him, pumping himself to full hardness as he watches. “Bet you don’t feel full enough yet though do you? You want Taetae to fuck your mouth? You want him to split your pretty lips?”

 

Jimin nods, whimpering loudly and pressing back against Yoongi’s face as the latter’s tongue stretches him open, catching on the rim and swirling around it before slipping back inside. Jimin’s knees start to slip when Yoongi moves his cheeks further apart, sloppy wet noises mixing with the already intoxicating feelings and sending Jimin into overload.

 

Taehyung hastily arranges himself in front of Jimin, having already ditched his pants and underwear. He smiles at Jimin, and Jimin almost wants to laugh at how strange that seems given the current situation, and the proximity of Jimin’s face and Taehyung’s dick, but even if Yoongi’s tongue weren’t rendering Jimin speechless, his breath is caught in his throat when Taehyung smears precum along Jimin’s lips, dragging the tip across the plump flesh and murmuring please Jiminnie, I need you so bad.

 

Jimin lets his mouth fall open, tongue darting out to drag along the tip before he’s eagerly taking Taehyung’s length into his mouth. He moans around Taehyung when Yoongi adds a finger alongside his tongue, having completely missed Hoseok grabbing lube- from where, Jimin is clueless- and he tries not to tense up at the sudden intrusion. It’s easier after having Yoongi’s tongue start the stretch, and Jimin finds himself grateful twice-over for Yoongi’s talented tongue.

 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Taehyung comments, like it’s the most natural thing in the world and Jimin hiccups a whine in response, blushing hard. Hoseok tugs at Jimin’s hair at the same time as Yoongi moans, and Jimin registers that Hoseok is doing the same thing to Yoongi too when the rapper’s tongue presses into him harder. “You take my cock so so well Jiminnie, it’s like you were made for it.”

 

A second finger is added before Jimin realizes, and a loud moan is forced from somewhere deep in his chest as he rocks back eagerly against it. He feels full, but not full enough and Yoongi’s fingers are so close to pressing right where he needs them and it’s so much but not enough Jimin thinks he might cry if he doesn’t get more soon.

 

He sucks hard on Taehyung’s length, and obscene slurping noise that comes of it sounds too loud in the quiet room. Taehyung curses and runs his thumb along Jimin’s cheekbone, tracing down to his jaw and back up before moving to where drool is slipping past Jimin’s lips, smearing in a way that shouldn’t be hot but fuck, it is, and Taehyung nearly chokes Jimin with the way he snaps his hips forward.

 

Jimin moves his tongue along the vein on the underside of Taehyung’s cock, hollowing his cheeks and savoring the way Taehyung tenses up and gives those perfect breathy little moans that go straight to Jimin’s groin. He never thought he’d get to see Taehyung like this, let alone be the cause of it. Jimin presses himself as close as Hoseok’s iron grip will allow, gagging when Hoseok pushes him forward too far without warning and pulls him back. The tears cling to his eyelashes and he flicks his gaze over to Hoseok, who’s staring back with an expression that reminds Jimin that yeah, alright, maybe he isn’t the one in charge here.

 

Yoongi slips the third finger in and takes to sucking and biting at Jimin’s thighs, leaving him bruises that have Jimin moaning just thinking about being able to feel them later. He rocks back against Yoongi’s fingers, doing his best not to get sloppy with Taehyung while Yoongi scissors and curls his fingers in all the right ways.

 

The wet kissing sounds from above Jimin have him wishing he could watch the scene he knows is going on, Yoongi’s whimpers mixed with Hoseok’s breathy laughter, Taehyung hissing as his lip is bitten down on. He lets his jaw go slack when Taehyung starts to rock his hips forward a bit more, testing the waters and asking a question all in one. Jimin doesn’t know how many wet dreams he’s had about Taehyung fucking his mouth and cumming down his throat, but he knows now that every single one has been blown out of the goddamn water with how right it feels to have Taehyung sliding in and out of his mouth like this, using him and yet remaining just gentle enough to have Jimin pressing into the palm that cups his cheek.

 

When Yoongi withdraws his fingers, the empty feeling Jimin is left with has him whining in displeasure, wiggling his ass (and earning himself a smack to it) in an attempt to get something, anything back.

 

Hoseok smooths his hands along Jimin’s lower back as Yoongi moves up to join Taehyung, prompting Jimin to open up wider and Jimin moans loudly when Yoongi’s dick slides in alongside Taehyung’s. The press against the inside of his cheek, the taste, the slide of it along his tongue all have stars dancing in Jimin’s vision even before Hoseok’s tip teases at his entrance.

 

“God look at you, spread so pretty just for me,” Hoseok coos, though his tone is just mocking enough to have Jimin shaking with anticipation, loving the way Hoseok talks down to him. He slides in slowly, letting Jimin get used to the stretch and the burn before bottoming out and waiting again. He kneads at Jimin’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart and watching himself slide in and out as he starts to move, slow and shallow strokes sliding into deeper ones. “You’re just fucking swallowing me up, fuck.”

 

Jimin feels his kiss-chapped lips start to hurt, the hollow ache in his jaw adding to the pain, but not dulling the pleasure. Yoongi brushes Jimin’s bangs back off of his face, hand resting on Jimin’s head just long enough to scratch soothingly at his scalp, a small praise despite the lack of words. The abundance of moans is more than enough to make up for the lack of conversation in Jimin’s book, though.

 

Hoseok picks up the pace without much warning, which is exactly what Jimin expects. He’s hiccuping groans out at every slap of skin on skin, and the vibrations are enough to have Taehyung pulling himself out of Jimin’s mouth and pumping himself until he releases on Jimin’s face. Jimin is a little disappointed, but it’s short lived because Yoongi doesn’t pull out when he cums and Jimin would moan if it wouldn’t mean choking when he swallowed. Yoongi looks dazed at the sight of Jimin swallowing, giving a little fuck and slumping, leaning his head back against the wall.

 

Jimin shoots them what he hopes is a smile and licks up what he can of Taehyung’s cum, though he’s upset to find out that when he tries to support himself with one arm, it doesn’t work. He ends up with his arm giving out and his face smearing cum between his skin and his cheek, something he’s sure to regret later but can’t find it in himself to right now.

 

Hoseok pulls out quickly and before Jimin has a chance to complain, he’s flipped onto his back. Hoseok grabs Jimin’s wrists and pins them above his head, pressing forward so his thighs are nearly touching his chest before he’s slamming back into Jimin hard enough to have the bed shaking even with the extra weight.

 

The new angle gives Hoseok much more direct access to Jimin’s prostate, after a few tries at finding it, he’s hitting it dead on with every thrust. Jimin’s toes are curling so hard he’s sure they’ll cramp later, nails digging into his palms as Hoseok fucks him into the mattress.

 

Jimin’s voice is wrecked at this point, hoarse and sounding just as fucked out as he is as Hoseok forces stuttered moans from him. Hoseok is giving what Jimin assumes to be praises between his own breathy groans and he finds himself nodding and babbling out yes, yes please’s when he doesn’t know what he’s even asking for anymore.

 

“You’re gonna cum just like this Jimin,” Hoseok grunts out, peppering feverish kisses to Jimin’s face, his arms, his jaw. “Cum for me baby, c’mon.”

 

Hoseok swaps his hold on Jimin’s wrists to one hand, freeing the other to curl around Jimin’s throat instead. He mouths an is this okay?, waiting for Jimin’s barely coherent nod before tightening his grip, and Jimin breaks. His back arches in a near scream when his orgasm hits him, vision blacking out around the edges before he lets himself go limp. Hoseok speeds up, rhythm faltering as he seeks his own release. Jimin squirms as Hoseok continues to abuse his prostate, weak protests mixing in with not so weak sounds of pleasure until Hoseok’s hips stutter and continue at a shallow pace as he milks his orgasm for all it’s worth.

 

It isn’t until after he’s pulled out and tied off the condom, tossing it into the wastebin beside the bed that Hoseok collapses on the bed, where Taehyung is snoring softly already and Yoongi is drowsing, carding his hands through Jimin’s hair.

 

Jimin watches Hoseok with bright eyes as the latter curls up close, pressing a small kiss to Jimin’s forehead.

 

“Hyungs,” Jimin rasps, a small smile on his lips.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks for playing right into my plans.”

 

“Shut up and sleep, brat.”