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Principle of Behaviour

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“Do it. Come on.”

“No.”

“You fucking scared?”

“Of Yoongi? Yeah!”

Taehyung huffs and insistently pushes the cold lip of the glass bottle against Jungkook's frowning mouth. Another one held in his lap, balanced on the fold of his crossed legs.

“I'll do it, too. I promise.”

Jungkook bats at his arm again, but not as tough as he had the last time. As much as he preaches deference, especially to his mentor, Jungkook's a sucker for trouble. And Taehyung? Taehyung is trouble.

“Yeah, and then we'll both get beat by Yoongi. Goody.

“Yoongi won't know, man. It's fine.” Again, Taehyung presses the bottle closer. “It'll be fun.” The liquid sloshes and Jungkook reels at the intoxicating syrupy scent that wafts upward. But despite his disapproving glare, his hand's reaching upward to cautiously take the thin neck of the bottle from Taehyung.

“He said not to touch the potions.”

“Exactly.”

“But what if he catches us?”

“He won't.”

Jungkook swirls the bottle beneath his nose. Taehyung lifts his and does the same.

“It smells...” Taehyung frowns. Holds it up to the lantern light and squints. “Maybe... like a vitality elixir?”

“I dunno man. Too sweet.”

“Or a love potion? But it's too pink...”

“Yeah. Those were more purple, weren't they?”

“Fuck, I think so?” Taehyung furrows his brow, tilting the bottle and watching the viscous liquid drag across the sides. A painful, bubble-gum pink. “I can't really remember. He never lets us near the unfinished potions. Says apprentices are too reckless or some dumb shit.”

“Psh. I bet I could make a potion a thousand times better than that old geezer any day.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Dude, he's like, in his twenties.”

“Bullshit. I bet he chugs anti-aging potions like an addict. No twenty-something's that bitter, no way.”

Laughing, Taehyung swirls the bottle, small bubbles floating to the top before bursting, thin smoke collecting along the rippling surface of the fluid. “You ready?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Won't kill us, right?”

“No worries. The harmful ones are usually green. I think. Bluish-green.”

Usually.” Jungkook shifts, but he's already alight with anticipation, bringing his crossed legs closer to himself. He bounces eagerly on the bed, and the motion shifts across to Taehyung who's sitting on the other side. “If we die I'll kill you.”

“If we die it'll be Yoongi that kills us.” Then Taehyung lifts his bottle toward Jungkook, inviting him to clink the dainty glass together. Gives him a smile, halfway playful and halfway sinister, that Jungkook most definitely recognizes. And not in the good way. A sense of suspicion drags through his spine, but he doesn't have time to act on it. “Cheers.”

They knock the potions back in one go. That's how it's done. The vials themselves are relatively small, especially for potions that are still having their kinks worked out, which are never produced in mass amounts. For all they know, Yoongi could have done an especially bad job with this one, and they might end up sprouting frog legs from their ears. Who knows.

“It's...” Jungkook smacks his lips, frowns, then licks his tongue around the lip of the glass to collect any of that pink residue. “Powdery. But still a liquid.”

“Tastes like fucking Pepto,” Taehyung grunts, and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to remove the last of the curiously thick substance from his lip. He quickly tucks the bottle in his lap. But Jungkook's not watching that. No, Jungkook's watching Taehyung, watching his mouth, watching the plump way his lips push together when he speaks, how they purse to make a certain consonant, than sheen reflecting off the part he wet with his perfect, pink tongue—

Fuck, what?

Jungkook blinks rapidly, letting out a quick breath that was caught somewhere in his throat.

“Kook.”

“Mm. Yeah?”

“Feel anything?” Taehyung grins at him, eyebrows raised.

“Uh. No.” At least, he doesn't think so. “Maybe a bit dizzy. That's probably just 'cause it's so sweet, though. How long should it take?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Dunno. Newer potions are pretty unpredictable.”

“Ugh.” Jungkook flops back on the bed. Passes his tongue over his teeth while staring up at the ceiling. And don't tell Taehyung this part, but this is partly because there's some curious tightening going on in his core whenever he looks at Taehyung. Probably just the potion, not cooperating with his stomach. Probably. “Here. Go get rid of these bottles before Yoongi gets back. Last thing we want is him finding them in our room.”

“Righto.” Taehyung stands, grabbing the empty bottle from a horizontal Jungkook. As he takes it, their eyes meet. Which should be nothing. It should be absolutely fucking nothing because it happens every goddamn day, spending every waking minute together as partnered apprentices for years. Yet it's not nothing. Their eyes meet and Jungkook's world fucking tilts, whips him upside down and rocks him side to side, crushes his skull against his brain until all he can feel is the thick compression bearing down on his senses.

“Fuck,” he grunts, and his head falls back against the bed, feeling pushed down by some weird centrifugal force that can't be healthy. “Fuck,” he repeats, and squeezes his eyes shut.

“You good, man?” Taehyung asks. Jungkook doesn't dare open his eyes. Although he can hear the concern in Taehyung's voice, there's something else he's frankly too dizzy to focus on. But it's there, regardless. That same sort of tone that's everything opposite of innocence. Guilt; not of the regret variety, but of the imposed variety, the I-committed-this-crime-and-am-proud-of-it variety.

“Yeah,” Jungkook chokes. “Gimme a minute. Just dizzy.”

“Mm. But I feel fine.”

Blindly reaching out, Jungkook throws the nearest pillow at where he hears Taehyung's voice coming from. “Well good for fucking you. Get—get rid of those.” Again, a heavy wave pushes over him, and all he can think to do is relent. “Agh, good God.

“Yeah, yeah, got it.” And Taehyung leaves. The world immediately feels lighter. Gravity fucking dissipates. Jungkook can breathe. Taehyung leaves, and all this just becomes okay again, magnification reducing the pulsing pressure to a minor thrum from somewhere imperceptible in Jungkook's body.

He's not an idiot. He knows what's going on.

Fucking Taehyung. Fucking Taehyung and how convincing he can be, how he knows Jungkook's penchant for discovery, how he can manipulate his curiosity like dough. How he likes to play.

Because you ask Taehyung, and everything is a game. Everything from meddling with black magic to disobeying the strictest mentor on the planet to testing the limits of sex. Of the body. Of Jungkook's body.

Of course they've fucked before. One of the simplest equations is you get two horny teens together and they're gonna fuck. And that equation doesn't even involve magic. No newt's tongues or dragon scales, no complicated measurements from thick, dusty books with obscure, outdated measurements used in the dark ages, back when dragon skulls were more abundant than volumetric flasks. All you need are two bodies and some knowledge on which holes feel best and chances are you'll end up with a lots of sweat and come and maybe a broken headboard, but that's another story.

Right now the story is Jungkook is fucking livid. Smouldering at the edges, jaw burning where his teeth clench together. But more importantly, he's fucking horny.

Because Taehyung knew exactly what kind of potion that was.

Aphrodisiac, through and through.

Realistically, Jungkook could have avoided it. Should have been able to. The ingredient that makes a love potion closer to pink is the ground up head of a thistle, dissolved in a few tears from really any creature you can find. Ridiculously easy ingredients to get ahold of. Add too much and you've got a potion that's a bit too lovey. He's studied this. This is his practice. Should have recognized it the minute he saw it.

Because nothing with Taehyung is ever surface level, and he should know that by now. That it's advised to always be on your toes. That there's always something he's hiding, something he only tells Jungkook about when it's too late to go back. And guess who pays the price.

Jungkook sits up, quickly moving to lean against the stack of multiple pillows he likes to keep on his bed, because they're good to use for leverage when Taehyung fucks him from behind, and he's gotten sick of having to wash the come off each time, resulting in him buying a ton so there's always clean ones ready so he can get pounded whenever he likes—God, which is really the best feeling, especially when he can angle his hips up just right and get Taehyung's cock rubbing right against that spot in—

Quickly, Jungkook pinches his forearm as hard as he can. Getting carried away. Mind running off. It's already getting bad, and this is only the beginning.

Get it together, Jeon.

The door opens, and Taehyung comes back in.

“Evidence—removed from existence.” He smiles proudly, clapping his hands together and showing Jungkook his palms.

“Okay,” he says. A quick, short word to test his voice. Which is fine. Level, all things considered. Unaffected. “Is Yoongi back?”

“No. We're good.” Taehyung crosses the room to his own bed on the opposite side of Jungkook's, eyeing Jungkook curiously. Perhaps he thinks he's being subtle, but Jungkook's honestly never been more attuned in his life to Taehyung's actions. Everything he does, how he sits and grabs one of the many comics scattered over his covers, how he pretends to read it, eyes occasionally flicking up to Jungkook before hastily looking back down when he sees Jungkook staring right back. Hell, Jungkook can practically feel Taehyung's breathing from across the room. Taehyung begins slowly, “You... feel okay?”

Jungkook hums, grabbing a book as well and tucking his knees against his chest. Reading. Totally indifferent. Truth is he's sporting a fairly solid half-chub right now and he'd be damned to let Taehyung know that. “Fine. Again, it was just too sweet. S'gone now.”

“Oh. That's good. Okay.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook murmurs. Flips a page. Everything is fine. Taehyung's not winning. Never. “You?”

“Me what?”

“Feel anything?”

“Oh, right. No.”

“Mm. Weird.”

He doesn't miss the way Taehyung smirks, how he looks down at his pages for his hair to obscure his face. “Weird,” is all he says back, so casually. If Jungkook weren't half-sure he'd explode if he were to get any closer to Taehyung's body heat right now, he'd get up and beat the everloving shit out of him. But the case is he probably couldn't handle more than a few seconds of eye contact without turning around and falling onto his hands and knees begging to get fucked. Instead, he settles for a glower which Taehyung misses, too absorbed in his comic.

And who knows. Mid-production potions are often never up to par. It might go away sooner than it arrived.

- - -

That is, of course, wishful thinking.

About an hour is spent reading quietly, both boys pretending their constant attention isn't snagged on the other at every waking moment. Admittedly, Jungkook feels better. Less dizzy, certainly, although perhaps he's getting a bit hot. It's really nothing, though. Just an occasional wipe of the brow every now and then, and even that's beginning to dissipate too. Bonus is he's not hard at all. A billion percent flaccid.

For now, he'll play safe. But Taehyung's not gonna be breathing when this shit wears off, and that's a promise.

- - -

“Jungkook, don't touch that.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“No—not that—” Yoongi reaches over and swats his hand away from the shelves. “I mean all this,” he says, and gestures to the entire middle shelf lined with herbs that Jungkook would probably be able to recognize if his mind weren't so clouded.

“Right. Sorry.”

Yoongi had returned from his errands, meaning Jungkook and Taehyung had to stop procrastinating and actually get some work done. In truth Yoongi had instructed them to complete these quick tasks before he'd left, like dusting the shelves to checking the age of a variety of ingredients, but they hadn't. Of course. Granting them a very snippy Yoongi.

The thing is; they only test his patience because he's so soft on them. Sometimes the boys will hear stories from their schoolmates about the mentors they got stuck with, how terrible those warlocks and witches tend to be. How even a simple misdemeanour will grant those kids a week cleaning the storeroom with no proper meals for the entire duration, or possibly the task of scrubbing the cauldrons, often lined with corrosive residue, to even physical punishments, good clouts across the ear that leave the head spinning.

Not to say Jungkook and Taehyung don't get punished either. Cruel curtailments on what they can do, what they can have, and of course the sadistic physical punishments as well. Read; whether their body will be restricted during those punishments or not; whether they'll be allowed to come; whether their orgasm will be accompanied by lashes across the ass.

Really, it's not as extreme as it sounds. Just a bit of fun.

And it's always Taehyung that complains, rubbing his ass in class the next day and huffing to Jungkook about how terrible Yoongi is to them. Yet it's always Taehyung that initiates the trouble. Most likely because it always seems to be Jungkook that gets the brunt of Yoongi's exasperation.

And maybe it's his masochistic side talking, but Jungkook finds he doesn't mind, not as much as he says he does. Because he'll whine, sure, he'll fucking cry and scream and then bitch about his chafed wrists and sore asshole the next day, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love it.

Both the best and worst part of all this is that Yoongi and Taehyung are both aware of this fact.

Both the best and worst part of all this is that they will, unquestionably, indulge him.

“Hey.” Yoongi snaps his fingers in Jungkook's face. “You listening?”

“Y—yes, sorry.” He shakes his head, a quick burst of motion that was supposed to help, but instead makes it worse. Standing up had amplified the heat ten-fold. The delirium. “I mean—no. Um. Could you repeat that?”

The glare Yoongi gives him could kill the devil. Thankfully Jungkook's had much worse done to him and is still alive and kicking. He gives a tight smile in return, which is partially meant to be cute and wheedling, using his looks that he knows Yoongi is weak to, but it also hides a sort of challenge. Testing Yoongi's patience, yet again. Which is probably a bad idea, considering Jungkook's body is a time bomb of sorts, just waiting for some unfortunate, well-placed touch to set him off. All that potion, now swirling in his bloodstream.

But he just can't help it; Yoongi's so fun to test.

“I said: hand me the linum stems.” He holds out his palm, raising his eyebrows expectantly at Jungkook.

“Right,” he breathes, and turns to the shelves. For the first time in years, he's struck by the sheer amount of vials, jars, containers displayed along the wall. Trying to remember the general location of the stems, all he can draw is a blank. Dreadfully aware of the cold stab of Yoongi's gaze on his profile, watching how his eyes scan, panicked, over the shelves.

“Hey...” Yoongi begins.

“Yep,” Jungkook says quickly. Maybe too quickly. His heartbeat pounds throughout his body, even down to his toes. It's probably what's causing the steady quakes in his fingertips, the momentary blanks in his mind. All that static.

“You okay?”

Despite his words, Yoongi doesn't sound concerned. Not at all. He sounds accusatory. Like he knows. Fuck, does he know? Does he know that Jungkook's a dynamite stick of insatiable arousal and sex right now? Fuck, that's so hot—

“Fine,” he chokes. Coughs. Blinks until his vision turns spotty and he's focusing on that discomfort instead.

Nodding slowly, Yoongi reaches across Jungkook and grabs the jar of stems. For that moment, Jungkook's world collapses and zooms in on the slight brush of Yoongi's breath across his skin, the way his body reacts to the proximity of another. The heat. As soon as it happened, though, Yoongi's pulling back, saying, “Alright, kid. Just don't die on me now.”

Jungkook would probably say something if his throat weren't closed in on itself.

And then the worst part; that fucking shit, Taehyung. Snickering to himself from the other side of the dimly lit room, sat at the old, wooden desk, carefully transcribing some old recipes to newer sheets of paper. Listening to Jungkook's turmoil, knowing exactly what's going on and loving every minute of it. Occasionally glancing up to see how tense Jungkook is, biceps straining every time Yoongi gets a little too close or looks at him a little too long, strong hands gripping the edge of the potion-mixing counter, looking for some semblance of control that he will inevitably lose.

Every sound is muffled by the old wood flooring, everything from the crackle of the oil lanterns to the gurgle of the cauldron and flasks held over the flame, the occasional hiss whenever Yoongi tosses something in. The murmur of voices, deep and controlled from Yoongi, strained and on-edge from Jungkook, and the scritches of the pen as Taehyung writes. So quiet. So peaceful.

Yet everyone is aware of what's going on, at least on some level. Yoongi's been working with magic for years. The minute he'd walked in, he could recognize that Jungkook would be completely gone in a few hours. He's not cruel enough to point it out. Just cruel enough to wait.

“Hey. Open up,” Yoongi says. Twists the cap off a small container and holds a few dried petals, no smaller than a fingernail, right up to Jungkook's mouth. Taps his chin impatiently when all Jungkook does is stand there and gawk.

“Um—”

“I just need you to try these. Tell me if they're stale.”

“No, why can't you—”

No?” Yoongi repeats. Because that's a death wish. A refusal, how could he ever dare?

“I mean. Yeah,” Jungkook mutters, quickly breathing in, holding it. Letting it go in a rush, all at once. “Yes.”

Fact one about aphrodisiacs: they heighten your senses.

Sense of touch, namely. Not to exclude sense of smell and taste as well. Sight, too, is affected, proven by the way Jungkook's pupils bloom unnaturally when Yoongi pushes his finger into Jungkook's hot mouth. Hearing is, thankfully, left relatively untouched. But the thing is, swamped by the overload of everything else, Jungkook feels like his ears are full of water.

“How does that feel?” Yoongi murmurs. He rubs the petals onto Jungkook's tongue using the delicate pads of his fingers, smirking when the boy closes his lips around the digits and sucks instinctively. “Taste good?”

“Mm.”

Fact two about aphrodisiacs: they get you desperate.

Something in the back of his head is screaming at him to fucking unlatch his mouth from Yoongi's fingers. Probably his pride, or his principles. But an even greater something is insisting that he keep doing it, that he suck harder, that he swirl his tongue around them while looking Yoongi dead in the eye.

“Kook?”

Fact three about aphrodisiacs: they get you completely, off-the-hinge stupid.

Not good. He wants to nibble, wants to suckle. It's far too late when he finally wrenches his senses back from the poison, because by the time he jerks back and releases Yoongi's fingers with a pop, there's a thin string of saliva hanging between them and his fat bottom lip, glimmering in the candlelight.

“You okay?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

“I—I'm fine, sir.”

And there's Taehyung giggling to himself again. There's Jungkook getting even more furious at the guy, yet even more desperate under Yoongi's condescending gaze.

“Hm. You look ill,” Yoongi says bluntly. He reaches up and rummages through the jars, through the shelf lined with small vials of powders of ground minerals. Normally Jungkook or Taehyung would be the ones retrieving these things for Yoongi, with them being a fair bit taller than him, while he calmly does his work. But Jungkook's not coherent enough to remember even the names of these various substances, never mind their function, which he'd otherwise have down by heart.

“I'm—” Jungkook begins to say, and chokes momentarily on the backlog of saliva that had collected in his mouth. “I'm fine, really.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi scoffs. He brings down some glassware with a pale blue powder and sprinkles some onto his still-wet fingers. “Open up,” he says again, and Jungkook's dick twitches in his pants. He feels the air get compressed out of his lungs with how quickly his abs tense the second Yoongi stuffs those fingers back into his mouth, spreading the gritty powder over his tongue. How Yoongi reaches up despite his height and grabs Jungkook by the hair at the nape of his neck. How Jungkook relents and feels his body bend lower to let himself be held there.

“Good for fevers,” Yoongi's explaining, massaging his tongue in rhythmic strokes. This is bizarre and it's still making Jungkook so fucking hard so fucking fast he feels like he's going to pass out. “Your cheeks are red. Your mouth is hot. Fevers do that. Surely you knew that, right, Jungkook? I've taught you that, no?”

Yes sir, he tries to say, but it comes out like a gurgle because his tongue's being depressed to the bottom of his mouth.

“Yes, you should know that. My smart boy.”

And that's it. That's the breaking point—although with Jungkook's head spinning as much as it is, he feels he's past that point eons ago. That's the acknowledgement. Because Yoongi never calls Jungkook his boy, whether it be baby boy or good boy or bad boy or little boy or anything, in their daily lives. He might call him just plain Jungkook, or Kook when he's feeling affectionate, or kid or brat when he's a little pissed off, but never boy.

No, boy is reserved for something special.

And Jungkook whines. Jesus fucking Christ, he whines so goddamn loud and Yoongi just watches, disapproval in his eyes as he runs his tongue contemplatively along the sharp part of his canines.

“You know what else makes your mouth hot? Makes your mouth so wet like this? Hm? Can you answer me?” Of course he can't. Those fingers are still there, shoved into his mouth, wrestling his tongue down, almost making him gag. The powder's all but melted, but it was never actually about the powder in the first place.

Glancing over to the desk, Jungkook bristles when he sees the the taunting air about Taehyung's gaze. He's not even working anymore. Just holding his fountain pen above the pages of the book, ink dripping thick onto the pristine surface as he pretends not to be distracted. Because he doesn't want to face Yoongi's irritation as well.

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. What now, Kook? What are you gonna do about it?

Nothing. He can do nothing but give in. Good thing he's truthfully okay with that.

Yoongi taps the side of Jungkook's cheek. Turns him back to his unforgiving expression. “Eyes on me, baby. Can't you do that much?” Finally, he takes those fingers out and wipes the spit onto Jungkook's shirt, stroking down his hard chest and making sure to brush over a nipple as he goes, knowing how sensitive they get when Jungkook's turned on. His body jerks. “Answer my question.”

“I don't know,” he blurts, just wanting this to end while at the same time wanting this to go on forever. “Sir, I—”

“No,” Yoongi cuts him off, knowing he starts babbling when he gets too flustered. “You know. I know you do. But I'll be nice and tell you anyway.” He leans in close so his lips are brushing against Jungkook's collarbone, knowing what such a touch is doing to him under the influence of the potion that he's at this point a hundred percent sure he took. Then he simply whispers, “Arousal,” and bites down onto the juncture of Jungkook's shoulder and neck.

“I'm not—”

“Shut up.” Yoongi's palms push flat against Jungkook's abdomen, begin to press so he immediately starts taking steps back, body going pliant as Yoongi commands him. “Shut up. You think I don't know what you did?”

“I don't know what you mean, sir,” he insists. He's burning from the inside out. Yoongi's touch is caustic and the combined heat, heat, heat with the mind-numbing control Yoongi exerts, stature smaller and weaker yet presence so large, frays the ends of Jungkook's nerves.

In response, Yoongi just hums, stepping forward as Jungkook steps back until his shoulder blades are digging into the wall.

“Liar. You touched my potions.”

His eyes might be glued on Yoongi's set jaw, his curling lip, but Jungkook can feel Taehyung's amusement from across the room. That absolute piece of shit.

“I didn't do jack—”

When he leans off the wall, Yoongi immediately slams him back. The force rips desire like a blade through Jungkook's belly, slicing into his lungs as he pants, feeling dizzy in the overwhelming warmth, the deluge of sensation from his live-wire body. His back arches off the wall, into Yoongi's persistent touch. And his cock's hard, so fucking hard, and he's never been more embarrassed and infuriated in his life.

“Taehyung, honey?” Yoongi calls, and Jungkook hands curl into fists.

“Yes sir?” Taehyung says back, sitting innocently at his desk, ankles crossed and head resting on his palm, just watching them.

“Come here.” Yoongi beckons with a hand, the other one holding Jungkook's chest to the wall. There's no force in it at all, but there's no need. It's no question Jungkook could overpower Yoongi in a single movement if he so pleased. But really, why would he ever want to do that? “Jungkook's been bad,” Yoongi purrs, turning his attention back to Jungkook for a moment, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw before moving to the side for Taehyung.

The glare Jungkook gives the guy could kill.

“Yeah?” Taehyung chuckles, stepping forward when Yoongi places a hand on the small of his back, guiding him. Squares Jungkook with a challenging squint, a question. Runs his hands teasingly along Jungkook's flank, smirking when he unconsciously rolls into his touch before growling and forcing his body still. “Yeah, you've been bad, huh? Been a bad boy?”

And as much as Jungkook hates it, his cock shows terrible interest in the implication. Because if he's been a bad boy, then he's gonna get treated like a bad boy, get fucked like a bad boy, and God if that isn't the absolute best mental image in the world.

Jungkook just bites his tongue when Yoongi urges Taehyung closer, admiring them both with some carnal ferocity. He can feel the immense heat of Taehyung's body, the darkness of Taehyung's eyes when he looks Jungkook up and down, the scalding trail his hands leave as they move over the thin fabric of his shirt.

“You know what happens, right, baby?” Taehyung whispers, slowly pressing his body against Jungkook's, letting him feel the growing erection in his pants as his own hard cock digs obviously into Taehyung's thigh. Precome soaks the front of his boxers and begins slowly dripping down his thigh. He wonders if Taehyung can feel the pulse of his cock as he leaks more all over himself. Filthy. “Know what happens to little boys who've been bad?”

He says it tauntingly into Jungkook's ear, and they're so close that Jungkook barely has to make a sound to snarl back, “If Yoongi weren't here I'd fucking kill you. You piece of shit, you'd be dead right n—”

Taehyung shoves his thigh forward abruptly, getting Jungkook's legs apart so he braces himself against Taehyung's strong hands for support. And that thigh, how it pushes up firmly against his straining cock, is just too much. Despite how he presses his lips together, the stupid noise he makes just gets stuck in his throat as his hips, surely under the influence of the aphrodisiac, grind down helplessly.

“What was that?” Yoongi laughs from next to them.

“Oh, he's just being mean,” Taehyung says, and pouts at Jungkook, at the rolling, delirious look of rage that he tries to focus on him.

“Baby boy, you're so mean all the time,” Yoongi murmurs. “So hard to handle. Making our work so hard, goodness.” Tutting, he then pets a hand through Taehyung's hair, smiling when he closes his eyes and sighs happily. “Tae-tae, our baby boy's just terrible, isn't he?”

“Oh, the worst,” Taehyung drawls. “Very, very hard to handle.”

“No one's fucking asking you to handle me, Jesus,” Jungkook chokes.

“But you want it, right?” Taehyung sneers and scrunches his nose when the flush along Jungkook's cheeks gets worse.

“Of course he wants it.” Yoongi leans on Taehyung's broad shoulder, and then reaches forward to push Jungkook's sweaty hair out of his eyes. “Such a little slut for us. You know he wants it. Don't you, baby?”

Leaning forward, Yoongi kisses Jungkook square on the mouth, swallowing his desperate gasps for air as the chokes in the sweltering atmosphere. Taehyung, generous yet at the same time such a tease, reaches down to palm at Jungkook's near-painful erection which he's only been half-lucky at staving off the entire day. Until now.

Until he's got two of the hottest men on the entire planet giving him all this unabashed attention.

His best effort at a coherent response is something like a bitten grunt, sounding partly like a no but a bit more like a completely desperate yes.

“Yeah?” Yoongi giggles, pulling back from Jungkook to begin licking gently at Taehyung's neck. Jungkook watches raptly at the gorgeous flutter of Taehyung's eyelashes, the submissive tilt of his head to the side to allow Yoongi more room. “Was that a yes? I couldn't tell, baby. Use your words.”

Yes. Please, yes,” Jungkook spits, head falling forward, hair shaking out over his eyes before Yoongi forcefully tips his chin back using his index finger.

“Good boy.” He smiles, but it's not a friendly one. It's more of a devious one. He nips at Taehyung's smooth, tanned neck one last time before saying, “Tae-tae. Kiss him.”

Which he does. Kisses Jungkook in a much more filthy of a manner than Yoongi had, pushing his tongue between Jungkook's parted, panting lips and immediately licking into his mouth, breathing hard. Against his body Jungkook feels Taehyung's dick twitch, his hips grinding forward onto Jungkook. And it's hot, fuck, it's hotter than hell, the press of Taehyung's erection and the impatient force at which he moves his lips against his. Jungkook's mind blanks with the knowledge that Taehyung is like this all because of him.

“Good. Stop,” Yoongi says, and Taehyung pulls back slightly. Opening his eyes, Jungkook sees Taehyung grinning down mischievously at him, and before he can collect his thoughts those lips are back kissing Jungkook again. It sends a tingle of anticipation down Jungkook's spine, because that's against Yoongi's orders. Not allowed.

“I said stop,” Yoongi growls, and wrenches Taehyung's head back by the hair. He breathes hard, smirking down at Yoongi at his side, head knocked back with his long neck exposed. “Now you're not listening to me? Hm.”

“Guess you're losing your touch, sir.” And Jungkook shivers in Taehyung's arms, because fuck, that's gonna get Taehyung killed. But it's more of a shiver of anticipation than anything. Because when it's Taehyung that's the one being punished, Yoongi's always allowed Jungkook to do such gloriously terrible things to him. Like sitting on his face and forcing him to eat him out, nearly suffocating the guy, or getting him a cock ring which he claims to hate and bouncing on his cock so he comes and comes and doesn't go soft and comes again and then again until he's fucking screaming.

But today is Jungkook's day. They all know that.

With a hand on Taehyung's shoulder, Yoongi pushes him lower. Taehyung, understanding, lets his knees bend and give into Yoongi's touch, following the movement downward so his knees knock to the ground. Kneeling before Jungkook, he looks up at him and wiggles his eyebrows, poking his tongue between his teeth playfully.

“Suck him off,” Yoongi commands, soothing his hands over Taehyung's shoulders before he steps back. “I'll go get the bed ready. You two come when you're done.”

Then Yoongi's gone from the study, the sound of the click of the door getting muffled by the still-bubbling potions and the rows and rows of books. Jungkook abruptly twists his fingers into Taehyung's hair, turning his head up so their eyes meet.

“I fucking hate you,” he growls, and pulls again, watching as Taehyung's eyelids flutter.

“Yeah, baby?” Taehyung murmurs, stroking up Jungkook's thigh before beginning to work quickly at his button and fly. “And why's that?”

“You know why.”

Taehyung hums, tugging Jungkook's pants and underwear down just enough so his terribly hard, leaking cock is free for Taehyung to curl his hand around. God. Jungkook's head swirls. He's been on edge for the past few hours, is hanging just off the precipice right now, just waiting for the final few strings to snap, for him to just lose it.

One more fact about aphrodisiacs: they only get worse the more you come.

That's why Yoongi wants Taehyung to do this. He wants Jungkook just absolutely desperate when he gets to him. Hell, he feels like he's already there.

“I don't, actually. Show me, baby?” Taehyung simpers, breathing hot across the tip of Jungkook's dick and watching appreciatively when it twitches in his hand, releasing a few more drops of precome like it's fucking drooling. “Show me how you hate me, hm?”

That's about as much warning as Taehyung gives him before he takes Jungkook's cock straight into his tight, wet throat, the working muscle that he expertly relaxes just for him.

“Gh—ah, Tae—” Jungkook bites, back pulling taut into an arch and his hand tightening in Taehyung's hair while desperately trying to keep from fucking forward. But Taehyung just hums around his cock, reaching up to knead his supple ass like an encouragement. He pulls off quickly, not bothering to wipe the spit sheening his lips.

“C'mon man, do it. Fuck my mouth, I know you want it.” And he's back again, all that overpowering heat. Jungkook feels lost, head up in the clouds. Taehyung's hair is falling over his eyes, sweat beginning to drip down the sides of his face as he reaches down to palm his own cock with the hand not groping at Jungkook. Then Taehyung latches his mouth just around the tip, swirling his tongue over it while lapping up all the precome, flicking across the frenulum.

Such a tease. Jungkook blinks, trying to pull Taehyung into focus beyond the haze of the aphrodisiac so he can give him an impatient look. All Taehyung does is watch with enjoyment at Jungkook's insistence, just playing his mouth leisurely around the head. “More, fuck, Tae, you piece of shit, more—”

Again, Taehyung pulls off briefly, giving a smug smile. “That's your problem, Kook.” Starts to mouth again at just the tip.

And Jungkook finally gives in, the absolute, burning need to get off just consuming him. His hips buck forward roughly, letting out a shaky whine when Taehyung gags a bit but squeezes the back of his meaty thigh to urge him on. Again and again he fucks forward, and he'd already been so close from the start, so wholly out of it all day, that it doesn't take much.

“Fuck, oh my God, Tae—I'm coming, fuck,” he barely has time to warn, orgasm slamming into him out of nowhere and tensing up every muscle in his body, hand tightening and pulling Taehyung down cruelly so he shoots his load right down the back of Taehyung's throat, jerking and panting and almost blacking out with how unbearably good it feels.

By the time he comes back to himself, Taehyung's stood up off his knees and is pulling off his own jeans.

“C'mon,” he says, and tugs at the bottom of Jungkook's shirt. “Strip. He's gonna want us naked.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook breathes, trying with shaking, inaccurate fingers to pull his pants and boxers down the rest of the way, stumbling and having to lean against the wall when he lifts a foot to get them off. The amplifying effects of the aphrodisiac are already catching up to him, the relief of the orgasm immediately gone.

“God, you mess.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, offering his arm for Jungkook to grip as he steps out of his pants, then clumsily begins to work at his shirt. Eventually, Taehyung gets impatient and turns Jungkook to face him, patting him arms and saying, “Up,” before roughly tugging his shirt over his head for him.

“There,” he says, satisfied. He's still wearing his shirt and boxers, making Jungkook feel a little self-conscious.

“I look dumb,” Jungkook groans, and grabs Taehyung by the elbow for stability.

“Nah. You look good. Real good.” Taehyung winks at him. “Gonna look even better when you're getting fucked, though.” And he captures Jungkook's lips in a kiss with a bit of Jungkook's precome still slicking the corners of his mouth, nibbling a bit and making Jungkook feel dizzy, body buckling even worse into Taehyung's hold.

“You're enjoying this too much,” Jungkook says lowly.

“Maybe a little.” Taehyung noses into Jungkook's neck, sucking along the soft, sweaty skin. And Jungkook's already feeling it, the pressing desire. His cock's almost fully hard again and nothing's even happened.

“Did you even drink it?”

“What do you think? I spit that shit right back into the bottle the second you chugged it down.”

“You asshole. You liar.

“And you fell for it,” Taehyung sing-songs, briefly stepping back when Jungkook knocks a punch at his chest.

“I'll tell Yoongi.”

Taehyung huffs a laugh. “Yeah?”

“I will. I'll tell him what an asshole you are, what you made me do, how this is your fault, and then, fuck dude, he's gonna punish you, too. Punish you so fucking hard you scream and then he'll just keep going, Jesus.”

“Mm. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You like seeing me cry.” Taehyung begins to push Jungkook back against the wall, nipping playfully at his neck, making his breath come in increasingly shallow pants. “But you're bluffing.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook giggles incredulously.

“Mm-hm.” Taehyung pokes at his naked chest, then traces patterns with that finger all the way down to Jungkook's navel. Stops just there, going no farther, whispering into the space beneath his jaw, “'Cause you're a little cockslut, Kookie. And you want it all about you, don't you? The punishment. Because Yoongi could fuck you, sure. But you know that's not what he likes best. And you know that's not what you like best.” He bites down, and Jungkook's head falls to the side so his lean neck stretches, getting exposed more to Taehyung as he shuts his eyes tight, breath shaking along with his pounding heart. “You want my cock, don't you, baby? Want my cock fucking you open 'cause I can give it to you so rough, and you like it like that, right? You love it, even, love it like the little whore you are.”

A pathetic little “Unf—” gets stuck in his throat in response, body alight all over again. “God—Tae, you—you're so lucky I like your cock, otherwise you'd be fucking dead right now, I swear.”

Taehyung chuckles as Jungkook begins to pull him toward the door, wobbling a little on his feet, not quite able to see the ground with his blurred vision. “You gonna tell him, then?”

“N—nah.” Jungkook smirks. “I'll tell him after. Watch him strap you down and spank you, cane you, get the strap and whip you till you fucking bleed.”

“Ooh, then he can make me eat you out, yeah? I know you love that. My tongue in your asshole while you fucking choke me, God. Maybe you can get the leash, too, get Yoongi to tell you just how to hurt me.

Jungkook reels at the image, the memory. “Shit—let's go, come on. Just—”

And they run out of the study leaving their clothing strewn across the floor, down the hall into Yoongi's master bedroom.

“Took you long enough,” Yoongi says when they enter.

“Sorry sir,” Taehyung says, stuttering at the final syllable when he catches sight of Yoongi, their mentor, meant to guide them in their studies and lead them on the right path in life, naked and three fingers deep in his asshole.

Jungkook swears he felt his heart stop for a moment, seeing Yoongi looking as gorgeous as he does, fully naked, small body and perfect skin spread out over the bed, milky thighs spread wide to allow them the show of his long, elegant fingers crooked into his tight asshole, lube spilling everywhere because he likes it so, so wet. The mesmerizing way those digits pull out, muscle getting pulled with them, rubbing the rim before pushing back in, the way his hole just opens right up to swallow them. Jungkook knows that feeling. Jungkook loves that feeling. That mind-blowing sensation of being inside him.

Next to him, Taehyung's pulling his shirt over his head, followed immediately by his boxers so he's just as naked as the rest of them. He pulls Jungkook by the wrist, breaking him from his trance, to the large bed. Yoongi shifts to the side to allow them the room, and then removes his fingers from his ass, wiping them on the covers and instead using his hands to push Jungkook flat onto his back.

“You—” He jostles him by the shoulders, and Jungkook feels like he's running purely on sex, raw and carnal, unable to think anything mildly coherent. “I want you on your back. Spread your legs—Right, good boy. Now stay like that. And Tae?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Come here. And grab the lube.” Taehyung gets the lube Yoongi had been using from the bedside table, and Yoongi reaches over and grips Taehyung's empty hand, leading it to pet along the inside of Jungkook's spread legs. “Isn't he beautiful?” Yoongi whispers, moving Taehyung's hand for him, getting him to stroke Jungkook where he wants him to.

“Mm. So beautiful, sir,” he murmurs, grinning devilishly when he makes Jungkook jolt as he strokes far up on his thigh but still doesn't touch his cock. Yoongi gets behind Taehyung and pats his side, urging him to get between Jungkook's spread legs, whose entire body is frozen partly in dread, yet mostly in anticipation for what's coming. It seems like Yoongi's in a playful mood today. He'd not dare risk it by moving, though. By going against orders. He's already got a dirtied slate. Jungkook just grips the bedsheets at his side with sweaty hands.

Taking the bottle of lube from Taehyung, Yoongi pours a generous amount onto the guy's fingers, and a bit onto his own as well, reaching around Taehyung to smear it in Jungkook's crack and make him writhe at the roughness of his touch.

“Ngh—” Jungkook's body pulls away from the rough prod at his asshole, but immediately it sends a fire straight to his belly and he grunts as his hips roll down into the odd sensation of pain and pleasure. Not that he's any stranger to that.

“Oh, hush,” Taehyung tuts, and replaces Yoongi's fingers with his, stronger and firmer, holding his asscheeks apart so they can both admire him, how he looks spread apart and pliant, hole clenching for more. Partly from the potion, but mostly just because he just wants it so fucking bad.

Wants to get fucked, hurt, slapped and degraded and taken apart.

Jungkook shoots daggers at Taehyung, but his gaze immediately softens into something meeker when he locks eyes with Yoongi. Resting his head on Taehyung's shoulder, Yoongi takes his hand away from guiding Taehyung's to let him touch Jungkook as he pleases, and instead begins to stroke his hands up and down Taehyung's biceps, watching and humming in approval as Taehyung teases Jungkook with light, barely-there passes across the skin, the occasional wet finger circling around his twitching asshole.

“But beautiful as he may be... He broke one of my rules.” Yoongi tuts, squinting a challenge when Jungkook nervously meets his eyes. “Been a bad boy, haven't you? And sweetheart, you know what happens to boys who've been bad.”

“P—please, sir,” Jungkook just whispers, not sure how he' supposed to answer. Not sure what would please Yoongi and what would just make him angrier.

Yoongi mock pouts at him. “Please? Please what. Huh? Please touch you? You want Taehyung to touch your cock, baby? You want me to let Taehyung make you come?” He cards his fingers through Taehyung's hair and the guy practically purrs at the attention. “No. Beg all you want, the answer's gonna be no.”

Taehyung smirks and pinches the inside of Jungkook's thigh, making him grit his teeth. All he wants to do is punch Taehyung right across the mouth, and then probably lay Yoongi flat on his back and fuck him silly, till all the aphrodisiac's worn off and his cock's not weeping for attention. But if he tries anything, he'd get absolutely ruined. Because Taehyung and Yoongi know exactly how to ruin him. Not that he minds that much.

“Tae, finger him,” Yoongi murmurs, and Taehyung immediately obeys, opening Jungkook up with a single long finger. Yoongi clicks his tongue, then nibbles on his lip for a second. “Two. You know he can handle it.”

“Wait, I—” But Jungkook's words are cut off by a terribly loud whine ripped from his throat, Taehyung complying to Yoongi and shoving a second finger in. Because the general rule is that what Yoongi says, goes.

“Take it,” Yoongi whispers, and Jungkook's tense body goes boneless in Taehyung's touch. Those words, that tone. Amplified a thousand times by the horrid potion coursing through his blood. “Take it, you little slut. I know you can. You've taken more. Don't whine. You've once taken both our cocks at once, haven't you? So take this.” He's growling by the end, teeth clenched together in restraint as Jungkook squirms.

“Sir—” Jungkook chokes, but he doesn't even know what he's trying to say. That's fine, though, as he's not given the opportunity to continue anyway. Because Taehyung, lips turned up slightly like the arrogant jerk he is, curls those two fingers, pushing them straight against Jungkook's prostate, which he knows will turn Jungkook into a struggling, needy mess. With his thumb, he rubs slow circles into Jungkook's perineum, sending rhythmic pulses of pleasure through him. His other hand pets up and down Jungkook's inner thigh.

“There you go. Just like that,” Yoongi encourages, licking along the column of Taehyung's neck as he hugs him from behind, no doubt with his erection pressed right against the smooth muscle of Taehyung's back. Then to Jungkook he says, “You like that, yeah baby? You like how our Tae-tae's fingers feel inside you? They're so long, aren't they? He's so good with them, too.”

“Y—Mm-hm.” Jungkook nods frantically, trying his best to answer, to be a good boy.

“Can I use three?” Taehyung asks, voice hoarse and thick, desire smouldering in his eyes as he looks down at Jungkook, how his perfect little asshole swallows his fingers so fucking nicely, how his back arches upward with each precise crook of those fingers Taehyung gives him.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Yoongi breathes in hard when Taehyung gets a third one in, a sheer blush on his pale cheekbones as he watches Taehyung work Jungkook open, prepare him so he can take Taehyung's cock, all of it. He mutters, “Yeah... Just. Fuck, yeah. God.”

So maybe Jungkook likes to push the boundaries. Maybe he wants it worse. Angry Yoongi is a fun Yoongi, he and Taehyung always agree. So, despite his half-incoherent mind, synapses burnt and train of thought stuttering, Jungkook smirks dangerously up at Yoongi.

“Do I look good, sir?” Yoongi's lip curls, and he raises an eyebrow. Jungkook almost laughs in satisfaction. “I do, don't I? You like seeing me like this? You—ah, you like seeing how good Taehyung makes me feel?”

Taehyung presses his lips together, eyeing Jungkook with a predatory gaze.

“Brat,” Yoongi bites. “What do you want? Huh? You want to get fucking hurt? Choked and slapped and caned? Fuck, I could do so much worse, too. You want all that?”

Jungkook swallows, and nibbles on his bottom lip. There it is. Yoongi's arms tightening around Taehyung, eyes darkening with something menacing. Something exciting.

“What if I did, sir? What if I wanted it so, so bad?”

“Oh, trust me. You wouldn't want this. You'd be begging me to stop.” Yoongi snarls, and a shiver wracks Jungkook's core. “Would you still take it then?”

“Anything you want,” Jungkook hears himself breathe. “I'll take anything. Please.”

The satisfied smile from Yoongi fills Jungkook's chest with elation, some sense of pride.

Good boy. And Tae, honey.” Yoongi kisses his neck while smiling at Jungkook. A surge of aggression, and Yoongi tugs roughly at Taehyung's hair, pulling his head to the side to bite his neck, leaving a quick mark. Taehyung gladly lets him. “Keep doing that. Okay? Get him desperate, but don't let him come.” And he looks back at Jungkook. “Hear that? Don't come, baby.”

Jungkook nods.

“Okay,” Taehyung breathes, and swallows upon hearing Jungkook's breathless whimper at the implication.

Humming in approval, Yoongi lets go of Taehyung's shoulders and crawls to kneel on the pillows above Jungkook's head, before he affectionately pats his cheek.

“Open up,” he murmurs, and smirks. Jungkook lets his spit-slick lips, swollen from being pinched between his teeth, part slightly, knowing what Yoongi wants from him. Because then, like they've done so many times before, like they know Yoongi loves, which makes Jungkook and Taehyung love it just as much, if not more, Yoongi's getting his thighs spread over Jungkook's body so he's sitting on his chest, facing Taehyung, then slides his ass back closer until he's right on Jungkook's face.

Fuck, Jungkook can't even tell which way is up. All he knows is he's got Taehyung's three fingers doing marvelous things to his prostate, forcing shocks of pleasure up his spine, and now Yoongi's involved, too, the perfect swell of his ass settled over Jungkook's hot, waiting tongue. Pushing farther down when Jungkook begins to lick at his hole, tasting like sweat and the bitter synthetic flavour of lube. His supple thighs squeeze against the sides of Jungkook's face and his weight makes it almost impossible to breathe. But fuck if he doesn't love it.

He's vaguely aware of himself making some stupid, desperate noise, hips rutting into the expert curl of Taehyung's fingers. His hands dig into Yoongi's thighs to pull his dainty body closer to Jungkook's face. And Yoongi, too, is whimpering, because Jungkook's so good with his tongue, poking it past that fluttering ring of muscle and swirling it around the entrance, catching on the rim, flicking across and pressing flat and God, getting Yoongi to make such gorgeous sounds as he rides Jungkook's face.

“You look so pretty, sir,” Jungkook hears Taehyung say, sounding absolutely wrecked by the sight before him. It must be so, so good. Jungkook can imagine it; how Yoongi's back arches lewdly with each kiss, suck, lick against his asshole that Jungkook gives him, his pink cock arching upward with shining beads of precome welling at the tip and dripping, dripping, dripping onto Jungkook's chest and trailing down the length to his balls, then getting onto Jungkook's chin.

“Mm—ah,” Yoongi just grunts in response, rolling his hips down, getting Jungkook's tongue to fuck into him further. He feels Yoongi lean forward, and Taehyung's fingers still inside him for a brief second, and he hears the messy, wet click of lips meeting in a sloppy kiss that Yoongi and Taehyung must be sharing.

He can't breathe, he can't see, he can barely even hear with Yoongi's plump ass and thighs pushing onto his face and the sides of his head. But it's good, it's so fucking good, and the almost painful ache in his cock just grows as Taehyung begins spreading his fingers inside his hole, so worked open at this point.

And—fuck, he's barely coherent enough to realize that, yeah, he's gonna come. Thing is, he specifically remembers Yoongi telling him not to. This is bad, but at the same time, it can't be that bad. To be completely honest, he's always loved the thrill of disobeying. And it may come at a price, but he's never minded.

“Look at our baby boy,” Yoongi murmurs, voice shaking but a thousand times more in control than Jungkook is. Taehyung giggles, giving Jungkook a particularly harsh crook of his fingers. “I think our baby boy's gonna come. Oh, what a bad boy.”

“You gonna break the rules again, baby?” Taehyung goads, rubbing Jungkook's thigh, and Jungkook growls feverishly, because yes, he is, and he needs Taehyung to stop right now or he will. But he can't communicate that with Yoongi's ass against his face. Yoongi, knowing this, grinds down harder and wiggles his hips.

“I'm gonna be very angry if you come, sweetheart.” Jungkook hears the grating smirk in Yoongi's voice, the condescension. He moans helplessly, digging his fingers into Yoongi's thighs, earning him a soft chuckle.

“But you can't help it, can you?” Taehyung growls. Jungkook feels a comparatively smaller hand—Yoongi's—wrap around his leaking cock, and he can't help the abrupt buck into that delightful squeeze. Everything in his body's going taut. “You can't help but come, huh? Fuck, go on then, you fucking slut, come, come all over yourself, Jesus—”

And holy hell, he comes, sobbing into Yoongi's asshole and thrashing against the restraining weight of his body, against the supporting hand Taehyung clasps around his waist while he fingers him through his orgasm. Jungkook feels the warm spray of his come all over his chest, getting pumped from his cock so powerfully and making a mess all over, moaning through to the end exactly like the dirty whore Taehyung and Yoongi like to say he is. And he's beginning to understand the entire concept of the amplifying effect aphrodisiacs tend to have on the body as it progresses through each orgasm. Because that one was powerful.

The best way to remove the poison from your system is to get it fucked out of you, till you're too exhausted to function. It's physically getting to that point that's the hard part. And if this last one was so intense, he doesn't know how the hell he can hope to survive the next ones.

“Want you to come, too,” Taehyung's deep voice is murmuring somewhere behind all the static, and Jungkook barely hears the wet slap of skin as Taehyung jacks Yoongi off with quick, deliberate strokes, can barely feel the stuttering flex of the guy's asshole against his tongue, his harsh breathing and loud moans, the sopping shots of his come that drip onto Jungkook's chest over top of his own.

And he can't think, can't move, for what feels like eons.

“Bad boy,” he hears Yoongi tutting when his mind slowly returns, emerging from the loud rush of blood in his ears. Opening his eyes, he realizes Yoongi's gotten off him and is now sitting to the side, gently tracing his fingers through the sticky mess of come along his chest. And Taehyung's fingers have been taken out, too, his hands now massaging the muscles of the backs of Jungkook's thighs that he tends to tense up too hard when he comes.

“Sorry,” Jungkook laughs breathily, but he doesn't mean it one bit. That was great.

Yoongi frowns, hearing the false note in his tone. “Yeah? 'Cause you broke a rule, Kookie. Broke a lot of rules.”

His eyelids flutter. Whatever's coming, he wants it. Wants it all.

“And? What're you gonna do about it, sir?”

“Hm.” Yoongi passes his tongue over the edges of his teeth, looking Jungkook up and down. “Tae-tae,” he then says sweetly, and combs his fingers through Taehyung's hair. Then whispers bluntly, “I want you to fuck him. Use him. And make sure you come inside him, make him filthy, like the filthy little slut he is.”

Jungkook's body tightens at those words, and his cock twitches again, barely given the time to soften. He wonders how many orgasms it'll take. How Taehyung will give it to him, fucking into him with his thick cock so wonderfully like he always does.

Yoongi goes on, “I don't care if he comes; make him come if you want. Hell, make him come twice. I don't care if it fucking hurts him, if he fucking cries like the bitch he is, if he screams. Just ruin him for me, okay?”

Jungkook's whining at Yoongi's words, chest heaving for air that's just too sparse to be comfortable. Taehyung's no better, now looking at Jungkook with some erotic sort of hunger. Jungkook shudders, feeling both Taehyung and Yoongi's scrutiny burn his skin.

“Yeah,” Taehyung murmurs. Yoongi moves to sit on the pillows above Jungkook's head, reaching for his arms and uncurling his locked fingers from the sheets.

“I'm gonna hold you here, baby.” And he twists Jungkook's arms above his head so his hands are clasped in Yoongi's lap. “And no struggling. You lie there and take it like a good boy.”

“Yes, sir,” is his immediate response. Because Jungkook is, no doubt, stronger than Yoongi. Stronger than Taehyung, too. If he wanted he could be free in a second. But all three of them know that won't be happening.

Taehyung's smearing lube over his aching, red, leaking cock, which has honestly been hard since they were back in the study, and Jungkook almost feels bad. But as Taehyung lines himself up to Jungkook's hole, feeling his body wrack with a shudder, he's smirking so tauntingly that a harsh surge of anger erases any of that pity.

“Want my cock that bad, baby?” He chuckles and rubs it over the rim, and Jungkook hates how he can't help the pathetic grind of his hips. And he's hard, too, likely even worse than before.

“Fuck off,” he growls. Yoongi squeezes his wrists, a warning. But Jungkook can't say he gives two shits about being rude to Taehyung, who really should have absolutely no authority over him in the first place. Yoongi, sure, he'll obey. Taehyung, though, is absolutely out of the question. “Your cock's all you're good for, anyways.”

Taehyung laughs while Yoongi just sighs, drumming his fingers over Jungkook's wrists. “Slap him if you want, Tae. I don't give a shit.”

Taehyung eyes Jungkook. “Wanna test me?”

Jungkook gives an equally hard stare back. “Already am, Tae-tae.”

Then—fuck, right across the cheek, leaving a burning echo in its wake. He reels, but before he can make anything of it, shock, pain, pleasure, Taehyung's pushing in, cock stretching Jungkook's walls with a gorgeous burn, pushing in right to the hilt so his balls are pressing against the nice swell of Jungkook's ass.

Nngh, fuck, Tae—” And then Taehyung's pulling back, drawing out the tugging sensation of the sopping muscles of his asshole trying to suck Taehyung back in. Thrusting in again, not allowing Jungkook the time to adjust, to collect himself. Just fucking him, using him.

“Shit, baby,” he grunts, and his hands clutch almost painfully at Jungkook's hips. “You're so fucking tight. God, look at you, look at how well you take my cock, fuck.”

Yoongi giggles, one hand around both of Jungkook's wrists, the other stroking through his sweaty hair. “Takes it like such a slut, doesn't he? Loves it, too. Asks for it rough like this, the goddamn brat.”

The intoxicating push and pull of Taehyung's cock working in and out of his asshole, the lingering burn of the slap against his cheek, the ache in his shoulders as Yoongi holds his hands above his head. His arms tense with restraint as he resists the urge to reach out to Taehyung, to hold onto his shoulders, to claw down his back, maybe grab him by the waist and flip him over and ride him till he can fuck all that potion out of his system, because he absolutely loves how Taehyung's cock moves inside him when he rides him.

But he can't. He's not even sure he could if he tried. Because he's absolutely delirious at this point, building up to his third fucking orgasm as Taehyung's dick pounds against his prostate. He whines, back arching off the bed, body curved so gracefully to fit himself to the way Taehyung likes to fuck him, aggressively jostling his hips so he's clenching even tighter in pleasure each time Taehyung snaps his his forward.

“You feel good? Huh?” Taehyung chokes, voice deep and hands possessive. “You like how my cock feels in your little asshole?”

“Tae—harder, please. More, just, hit me again, please—” And he's cut off by another sharp slap across the same cheek, Taehyung's strong palm not hesitating at all. When they had first started this all out, years ago, Taehyung had relied on Yoongi to handle most of what dealt with the matter of physical pain. Now, though, it seems he's come to like it a little too much. Which is a development Jungkook's not opposed to at all. Yoongi and Taehyung both hit differently, but they both hit hard, and that's what matters.

Jungkook sobs, pleasure coiling tight in his belly. His cock, God, is so fucking hard, the tip so fucking wet, precome dribbling down over the sheen of come left there from his previous orgasms.

“Again,” he growls. “Hit me again.”

“Again?” Taehyung laughs, panting and on a high.

Yes, you heard me. Come on, God, you fucking pussy, just hit me—” And another one, this time on his other cheek.

“Brat,” Yoongi growls, and fixes his hold on Jungkook's wrists firmer. His hand in Jungkook's hair instead sneaks down over his chest to brush at his nipple, abruptly pinching while he watches with delight at how absolutely lost Jungkook is, lovely, shattered noises tumbling from his lips, body curling up and wrists threatening to break from Yoongi's hold, thighs bending up against his body to allow Taehyung all the room to fuck him open, to own him.

I—Tae, 'm gonna—”

“Yeah?” Taehyung snarls, bringing a hand down to curl around Jungkook's cock, to pump him with quick, smooth strokes, intensifying the forceful spates of pleasure. “Baby boy, you gonna come? Hm? Gonna come for me?”

“Fuck, yes—” he spits, barely able to say even that as Taehyung grunts some affirmation before Jungkook's shooting his release again, spurts of come that feel like they're being torn from his core, the shocks almost painful this time around. His asshole clenches so fucking tight, and Taehyung generously slows his pace so he doesn't hurt him.

So, with Taehyung's hips rocking into Jungkook at a more languid pace, he's allowed the brief moment to breathe.

“Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, tilting his chin up with dark, glassy eyes to catch sight of Yoongi smiling fondly down at him. He doesn't even berate him for his forgetting of 'sir', and even scrunches his nose a little at how perfectly fucked-out Jungkook looks, how wholly gone he is.

“Yeah, baby,” Yoongi snickers, knowing what he means, and releases his wrists. Then he crawls over to the side, brings his thighs over Jungkook's torso, this time facing the other way so he's straddling Jungkook with his back against Taehyung's sturdy chest.

“Hold my waist, honey,” he instructs, and Taehyung goes still inside Jungkook to allow Yoongi to situate himself while he does as he's told and holds Yoongi steady, his skinny torso looking comparatively daintier next to Taehyung's wide palm. Quickly, Yoongi reaches below himself and sticks two fingers into his asshole, checking if he's still stretched out from earlier, his once-again hard cock twitching slightly when he brushes his prostate. Satisfied, he removes them and takes Jungkook's cock by the base, lining it up and—Fucking hell, Jungkook's in heaven.

Because Tae's balls deep in his ass and Yoongi's tight heat is wrapped around his cock and he can't even see straight, tears welling in his eyes at the brutal sort of pleasure punching at his insides.

“I—Fuck, I don't know how long I can last,” Taehyung grits, hands tightening around Yoongi's waist to help him as he begins to roll his hips onto Jungkook's dick. Yoongi, in turn, has his hands placed flat on Jungkook's hard stomach.

“Mm, that's fine,” Yoongi reassures. He knocks his head back onto Taehyung's shoulder, upper body leaned back against him, and turns his head to the side to give him a sweet kiss on the neck. “You've been so good today.”

Taehyung hums shakily, the rutting of his hips into Jungkook starting to turn erratic again. “And Kook?”

Yoongi smirks and traces a slow pattern onto Jungkook's sweaty, come-covered chest. “Our little boy's learned his lesson, I suppose. No?” He pokes him. “Have you, baby?”

He thinks he nods and he tries his best to say yes, sir, but he's not quite sure how well it goes. All he can focus on is the immense heat scalding his insides and frying his brain.

“Do you want Taehyung to come inside you?” he asks, and Jungkook keens, hands tightening in the bedsheets in what he hopes will be understood as a vehement yes. Taehyung grabs Jungkook by the hips and roughly jostles him into a more comfortable angle before he goes back to supporting Yoongi's bouncing hips, pounding into Jungkook's tight ass so hard the slapping of skin on skin burns like hell. “Do you think you deserve it?”

“I—Nh, fuck, I just, please, I want—” Jungkook's voice breaks.

And Taehyung doesn't even wait for Yoongi's go-ahead, although he rarely ever does when he's this far gone, and just takes, using Jungkook's perfect little body to chase his release.

Shit,” he grunts, and delivers a sharp bite the pale curve of Yoongi's shoulder, just because it's right there, and all this head-rushing pleasure feels like it's just too much. Yoongi whimpers and lets his head fall to the side, letting Taehyung bite him because he knows he likes to, even though the marks left afterwards have never been his favourite thing. “Fuck, Jungkook, you're so fucking good, take it so well, God, like such a good boy—”

And Taehyung's fucking Jungkook so violently and Yoongi's body is rocking with the motions and both him and Jungkook are just giving in to how Taehyung wants them right now, this brutal way he handles them both when Yoongi allows him the rare opportunity to do so, and God.

With a final wrecked and vicious noise, Taehyung buries himself deep inside Jungkook's desperately clenching asshole and comes in hot, hot spurts, fills him to the fucking brim, making him whine at the heady feeling of being absolutely used. Yoongi reaches back to run his fingers through Taehyung's sweaty strands of hair as he rides out his orgasm, cooing about how gorgeous he is, knowing Taehyung loves basking in attention almost as much as Jungkook does.

Taehyung's head knocks forward against Yoongi's shoulder, and his arms wrap around his small waist to hug him from behind as he tries to catch his breath.

“Tae, I want—gimme the—” Jungkook stutters, blanking on the word.

“Plug?” Yoongi supplies, and Taehyung chuckles softly into Yoongi's skin before he hums some affirmation. Leaning over, rocking in slight motions onto Jungkook's cock, Yoongi grabs the plug from the bedside table kept next to everything else he'd prepared earlier—just in case. Hands it to Taehyung, who pulls out and replaces his cock with the thick plug before any come can spill out, groaning as he watches Jungkook's eager hole take it in.

Then he collapses face-down next to Jungkook with a sigh.

“Aw, Tae-tae, giving up already?” Yoongi teases. His hips begin rolling again, so casually, seeming totally unbothered by the fact that Jungkook's a moaning, writhing mess, now with a plug massaging rhythmically into his prostate.

“Tired, sir,” Taehyung mutters, and lifts his head and smiles. “Should I hold him for you?”

“I'd like that.”

So Taehyung does just that, and gets where Yoongi had been earlier, sitting near Jungkook's head and restraining his wrists. He does it rougher than Yoongi, his hold far tighter, because he knows Jungkook won't entirely submit to him like he does so willingly to Yoongi.

Looking down, Jungkook sees that Yoongi's hard, really fucking hard, precome dripping from the pretty pink tip of his cock, the curve of his tight waistline put on display with how he arches his back, getting Jungkook's dick to push against his prostate as he grinds down onto him.

“Sir,” Jungkook whines, tugging up against Taehyung's hold and wincing when he growls and shoves him back down.

I come first,” Yoongi tells him, and fixes him with a hard stare. Jungkook swallows and nods slowly, meeting Yoongi's eyes coyly up through his eyelashes.

“You feel good, sir,” Jungkook murmurs, struggling to keep his eyelids from fluttering shut. Taehyung, also, has his gaze glued on Yoongi's fluidly rocking figure. He's close; they know it. And he looks so fucking hot when he comes, and they really want to see it. Want to watch their mentor just come apart on Jungkook's cock. “R—really tight. Warm. Wet.”

He hums, his hips picking up pace, and Jungkook's right on the fucking edge but he's also so desperate to please Yoongi and do as he's told that he wouldn't dare come now, not until he's allowed to.

“Fuck into him,” Jungkook hears Taehyung whisper, and he looks up to see Taehyung's hellish grin. “Do it. He likes it.”

They both know Yoongi can hear it, but he doesn't say anything, and just raises an eyebrow at Jungkook. So he bucks his hips up like his body's so desperately been wanting to, adding an ounce of aggression to this push-and-pull they have going, making Yoongi's body curl forward as he moans so lewdly, breath hitching in his throat.

“Fuck, Kook, baby, just like that—” And he's doing his best to encourage him, but it gets to the point where he's just stuttering incoherent noises, pleasure building and building until he's tightening around Jungkook, sitting low on his cock and body going taut, abs clenching a few times before he whines and blows his load all over the mess on Jungkook's chest. “Oh, God, Kookie, good boy—mgh, fucking hell—”

The hot, wet gush of Yoongi's come, the feverish heat of his asshole, Taehyung's assertive grip on Jungkook's wrists that only tightens as he thrashes, all of it. Jungkook is losing his fucking mind. And Yoongi keeps rocking, keeps that fluttering muscle around Jungkook's dick even after he comes, because Jungkook is absolutely wrecked and Yoongi plans to wreck him some more.

Taehyung's murmuring something in that deep rumble of a voice of his, and Yoongi's saying something else, but Jungkook—Jungkook is delirious, the hot, tight squeeze of Yoongi's asshole and the plug shoving incessantly against his prostate driving pleasure through his body like a a knife.

“You can come, baby, go on,” he makes out Yoongi's voice reassuring him, and there's a hand stroking up and down his arm and another on his chest and then he feels the wet press of a tongue onto his nipple, swirling before sucking and biting gently, and he's stumbling so, so damn hard into his orgasm, helplessly moaning and sobbing, writhing with his eyes squeezed tight as he tries to make something, anything, of the overload of sensation.

And that must be it, because afterward, he feels the familiar weight of exhaustion settle over his body that he hadn't felt while the potion was still electrifying his body.

“Good boy,” Yoongi mumbles, and Jungkook tries to grunt something in response, body collapsing. He feels Taehyung's grip loosen and his hands relax back down at his sides before two bodies flop down on either side of him. “Did really good.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans, laughing as he hugs Jungkook close to him. “Fuck.”

When the world stops swirling, Jungkook opens his eyes, meeting Yoongi and Taehyung's curious gazes.

“Feel fine?” Yoongi asks.

Jungkook gives him a fucked-out grin and nods, trying to lift himself up onto his shaky elbows.

“Clean me,” he mutters, nodding at the sticky layer of come on his chest. To which Taehyung laughs some more, grabbing a clean cloth Yoongi had prepared to wipe him down, then getting what got on his and Yoongi's skin, too. “Gross,” Jungkook mutters, scrunching his nose. “You guys are gross.”

“It's your come, man, dunno what you're talking about.”

“Yoongi's, too.”

“Whatever.”

“And yours is still inside me.”

“Fuck—that's real hot.” Grinning, Taehyung looks up at Yoongi while tossing the cloth somewhere onto the floor, giving an innocent grin. Scathingly innocent. “Yoongi?”

“Mm.”

“Do you think he's learned his lesson?”

“I guess...” Yoongi shrugs and clicks his tongue, his head resting on one hand as he lies facing them. He looks Taehyung up and down, along the gorgeous expanse of all that smooth, sweaty skin. And he smirks. “I dunno about yours, though.”

Taehyung blinks. “What?”

“You heard me.” Yoongi stares back, amusement glimmering in his eyes. “Your lesson.”

“What did I do?” Taehyung asks, almost cautiously, nibbling on his tongue.

But he's caught on. Jungkook, too, despite his clouded mind, knows exactly what Yoongi's implying.

“Don't think I don't know you were involved in this as well.” Taehyung doesn't even bother to hide his devious grin. “You little shit. Bet it was your idea in the first place, hey? Maybe I should punish you next.”

But Jungkook's already sitting up, gripping Taehyung by the wrists and holding them above his head, climbing onto his lap and reaching to pull out the plug in his ass, and then grinding down onto Taehyung while sopping with come and lube. So much for cleaning up.

“Get the cuffs, sir,” Jungkook whispers, and slowly rolls his hips. “I want to ride him.” He just smirks when Taehyung snarls and tugs against his hold, restraining him tighter with ease because Jungkook's the strongest of the three, with the biggest body and the most muscle. “Oh, we'll have so much fun, sir. I can play with him for hours.”