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Jeongguk was knocked well off his feet the first time it happened. It wasn’t like he was oblivious enough to not acknowledge that his hyungs were years older than him and therefore had entirely different life experiences. Living in the same dorm inevitably revealed everyone's most vulnerable and private secrets to one another, but he had never, in his wildest dreams, expected what he saw from his oldest hyung, Seokjin.
Seokjin looked and acted incredibly sweet all the time. He was like the father of their group, always taking care of everyone by cooking for them, cleaning up after them, consolidating them–you name it, he'd most likely done it for his six dongsaengs.
Now, where Jeongguk's mistake lay was that he thought that's all Seokjin ever was–the responsible one. So when he came home one day earlier than usual because one of his vocal classes had been canceled, he walked straight into the dorm and stumbled upon the sight of Jin hovering over another man.
Jeongguk didn't know the man–had never seen him before in his life–yet he felt irrevocably bad and terrified for the stranger, who had tears streaming down his cheeks and bruises, both old and new, scattered across his body. If it hadn't been for the way the man's body was completely limp and pliant under Seokjin, his moans mixing in with desperate sobs as he was fucked within an inch of his life, Jeongguk would've considered calling Namjoon, or even the police.
The sight had been that gruesome at first. Yet, Jeongguk hadn't looked away for a single second; he couldn't bring his body to move from where he’d curled in on himself behind the door for cover.
It was jarring seeing Seokjin like that–his slender fingers slapping across the man's cheek and digging blunt nails into his throat as his hips pounded painfully into the man's ass, his massive cock splitting the poor guy in two.
Was that what all his hyungs' cocks looked like? Startlingly big? Because Jeongguk's definitely wasn't that size, and the realization made him feel even more insignificant than he already did given the sheer lack of experience he carried under his belt compared to the rest of his bandmates. He was nothing more than a teenager swept into the world of music and industry responsibilities way too early, a reality that had stripped him of any semblance of a normal teenage life.
He'd never kissed anyone, never touched anyone, never fucked anyone.
So was this what sex actually was, though? Rough, painful, and inherently vulgar in its nature? Because he'd gotten the complete opposite impression from the porn videos he’d managed to sneak a look at on Namjoon's laptop, but what Seokjin did was far from that.
The second time, Jeongguk wished he could say it hadn't been as shocking to witness, but it very much had. That time, the same guy was completely tied up, a gag stuffed in his mouth, the skin surrounding his cock painted white and sticky with previous orgasms while he sobbed through another one–this one caused by some sort of vibrating concoction Jeongguk had never seen before. Jin just watched, a hand buried deep in the guy's hair, his fingers curling in the strands to hold his head up so he had an unobstructed view of how the man convulsed, coming completely dry with nothing left to give.
By the third time, Jeongguk couldn't even lie to himself anymore. He was coming home on purpose. He was skipping his vocal classes on purpose, deliberately finding the predictable gaps where no one else was home and when Seokjin seized the time with his mystery man. Each time, Jeongguk watched more intently, sometimes wanting to cry for the poor guy, and other times wondering who else Seokjin did these kinds of things to. How does one even go about getting into such obscene scenarios? Surely you couldn't just go up to anyone and say, 'Hey, so I like being brutally tortured during sex.'
And from the fourth time onward, it simply became Jeongguk's routine. His hands wouldn't clutch at his chest out of shock or fear anymore; instead, they'd wander down to his crotch, barely having time to create any friction before he was pathetically coming right in his pants.
It all felt incredibly good and thrilling–until it didn't.
"You think you can just skip vocal classes and no one would notice?" Namjoon said, his arms tightly crossed and his expression stern as the seven of them sat circled in their living room. The leader had scolded just about everyone tonight, clearly in a foul mood, but he very much had a reason to target Jeongguk specifically.
Jeongguk kept his head bowed low between his shoulders, his bottom lip pinched painfully hard between his teeth as he tried to hold his tears back. He'd always been the one to cry at anything and everything, sensitive to the absolute core, but the humiliation of failing his hyungs burned deeper than anything else.
"Jeongguk, I'm talking to you," Namjoon doubled down. The words were followed by a gentle nudge to his shoulder from Jimin, who sat beside him, quietly trying to encourage his bandmate to hold his head high and own up to his mistakes.
"Look at Namjoon when he's talking to you, Jeongguk-ah."
The command made Jeongguk jolt straight because it had come directly from Jin, who sat diagonally on the opposite end of the circle. Their eyes met, and every single filthy memory Jeongguk had stored away over the past few weeks flashed vividly before his eyes.
Would Seokjin punish him like he punished his bed-buddy when he didn't listen? Too bad Jeongguk wouldn't ever find out, because the serious lectures ultimately always ended up in the hands of their leader, who stripped you bare to shame with controlled words, not ruthless actions.
"The company was notified about your absence, and now it's falling on me to give them a reason why," Namjoon continued. Even though the maknae wasn't looking at him, his intense focus on Jin must have been considered good enough eye contact. "So. Where were you if not in your classes?"
Jeongguk swallowed thickly, pressing his lips into a trembling pout in a poor attempt to hold back the tears that fell anyway. He could see Seokjin tracking the path of the drops down his cheek before the oldest member spoke up.
"Crying isn't going to get you out of it, Tokki-ya. So, c'mon. Spit it out."
It was enough for Jeongguk to finally flit his gaze back onto their leader, who gave him an expectant look. "Were you out with any of your school friends?"
Jeongguk shook his head.
"Were you walking around the city by yourself?"
Another quiet shake of his head.
"Were you coming home?"
Jeongguk hesitated then. He knew the sudden pause was tell enough, but he still nodded slowly, feeling a fresh wave of tears slip down his cheek.
"You were coming home?" Namjoon repeated, his brows knitting together. He glanced around the circle, looking at the other members before his eyes landed back on the trembling maknae. "What on earth made you think that’s okay? Did you think you could slack off whilst everyone else worked hard for our success as a collective group?"
Jeongguk sniffled, tears blurring his vision. He felt completely backed into a corner, the walls closing in on him. He couldn't tell the truth. He couldn't. If he admitted what he’d been doing, he would have to admit to the voyeurism, to the ruined pants, to the fact that he had been secretly watching his eldest hyung break another human being in for his own sick satisfaction.
His eyes instinctively darted back to Jin, desperate and pleading, practically begging for a lifeline.
Seokjin was still watching him, his posture relaxed, leaning back against the cushions with an unbothered air that contrasted with Namjoon's authority. But as Jeongguk's wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto his, Jin’s expression shifted. A faint tilt of his head occurred, his gaze calculating the younger boy's sudden panic. Jin knew the schedule. He knew exactly what days and times he had been bringing his partner over.
And suddenly, the pieces clicked in Seokjin's mind.
"Namjoon-ah," Jin spoke up, his voice smooth and commanding enough to instantly cut through the leader's interrogation.
Namjoon sighed, turning his head. "What, hyung?"
"Let it go for tonight," Jin said evenly, offering a wave of his hand. "The kid is practically hyperventilating. Look at him. You're not going to get a straight answer out of him while he's this worked up anyway."
"Hyung, the company needs an explanation–"
"And we'll handle the company," Jin interjected, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. As the oldest, he carried a specific type of weight when he chose to use it, and right now, he was shutting the entire meeting down. "We'll just tell them he was feeling burnt-out or something."
Namjoon stared at Jin for a long moment, clearly unsatisfied, but eventually, his shoulders slumped. "Fine. But he needs to make up those hours next week." He looked back at the maknae, his expression softening just a fraction. "Go wash your face, Jeongguk-ie. And as for everyone else, let's get some sleep."
Jeongguk didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, keeping his head down as he practically fled the living room. He burst into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and pressing his back against the wood, sliding down until his knees hit his chest whilst his heart hammered against his ribs.
He was safe. Jin had covered for him.
But as the initial relief began to fade, a new, much darker realization settled in his stomach. Jin hadn't covered for him out of simple kindness. Jin had covered for him because Jin knew.
That thought haunted Jeongguk for the rest of the night. While he showered, dressed for bed, did his skincare, and dried his hair, he was constantly waiting for the exact moment Seokjin would confront him. Because surely he would, right? There was no way his hyung would let the fact that Jeongguk had been watching him–had been purposely present while Jin carried out his ministrations with his partner–be swept under the rug.
Yet, every time Jeongguk caught his hyung's eyes throughout the remainder of the evening, Jin didn't seem to do so much as blink differently. He simply continued his usual nightly routine alongside the other members until everyone finally turned in for the night.
Usually, Jeongguk would be the first to knock out, snoring up a storm that his bandmates would complain about the following morning. Tonight, however, he tossed and turned with his eyes wide open, trying to gauge a clear view of Jin's bed through the darkness, waiting for him to pounce.
But it didn't come. As the night stretched past midnight, with every passing minute, Jeongguk managed to convince himself that the confrontation wouldn't happen tonight–perhaps tomorrow, or whenever Jin managed to catch him entirely alone.
So, he eventually allowed his eyes to flutter shut, trying to push aside the obscene flashes of bruises and indents on skin that seemed to loop behind his eyelids. He saw the vivid imagery of long fingers wrapping around a delicate throat, hands tightly restrained, and a mouth forced full–forcing the stranger to breathe entirely through his nose.
His nose.
Suddenly, Jeongguk couldn't breathe through his nose. He couldn't breathe at all.
The realization sent Jeongguk's eyes snapping open, his body doing its job of jolting him awake in the face of danger. He tried to lift his arms but couldn't, realizing they were confined to his sides, pinned down as if someone were sitting directly on them. When he tried to sit up, a firm forearm pressed bruisingly hard against his collarbone. The shift consequently released his nose, allowing him a desperate intake of air, yet a large hand kept his mouth clamped tightly shut to avoid any sound escaping into the quiet dorm.
Jeongguk couldn't see through the pitch-black room even if he wanted to. All he felt was the weight on top of him and steady breaths flowing way too close against his face. The pure terror of the ordeal made his eyes tear up immediately, panic completely overriding his instinct to fight back.
Then, the breathing shifted to his ear. "Don't be a little bitch and scream, okay?"
It was Seokjin. There was absolutely no mistake about it, though Jeongguk should have known the moment those cold, slender fingers touched his skin.
Jeongguk struggled to swallow, but a fraction of his panic faded. At least it wasn't a stranger robbing the dorm; it was his hyung. Deep down, he knew Jin would never actually hurt him–or, at least, he desperately hoped so.
When Jeongguk gave a frantic nod, he felt the pressure on his mouth lessen, though Jin’s hand remained closely over his lips. "Get up and go to the bathroom."
And just like that, the hand, the pressure, the voice, and the weight vanished.
The bed creaked softly as Jin gracefully slipped off Jeongguk and left the mattress, leaving the maknae to pull his trembling body together enough to follow instructions. Jeongguk grabbed his phone, using the faint light of his lockscreen to illuminate a path across the messy floor.
He didn't dare look back at Seokjin. He couldn't–not with the way his heart was pounding. If he somehow caught sight of his hyung's expression in the shadows, his heart might just leap out of his chest altogether.
The harsh glare of the bathroom light made Jeongguk squint, his hand instinctively nudging the door shut behind him so the illumination wouldn't bother their sleeping bandmates. Then, he just stood there. His arms wrapped tightly around himself, clutching at the final remnants of his composure as pure nerves flooded his system. What was he going to do? More importantly, what was Jin going to do?
His answer came in the form of the door creaking open. In stepped Seokjin. He had a pair of checker-patterned pajama pants pulled over his legs–which usually stayed bare when he slept–but his chest was fully exposed, his long torso decorated with lean muscle.
The sight wasn't one Jeongguk was used to. Usually, his hyung kept himself strictly decent when wandering around the house, only shedding layers within the privacy of his own bed.
"God, you really are a pervert, aren't you?" Jin spoke up, calling the maknae clean out on his staring.
Jeongguk blinked away instantly, feeling a hot wave of shame prickle at his neck.
"First you watch me fucking Seo-jun–multiple times, I assume–and then you still have the nerve to ogle me after being caught?"
The degradation flew right over Jeongguk's head, and instead the confusion of the situation forced a question from his lips before he could stop it. "Seo-jun?"
The silence pulled taut, and for the first time tonight, Jeongguk made himself look directly into his hyung's eyes. "Is he... is he like your boyfriend?"
Jeongguk's answer came in the form of a sharp sting flaring across his cheek. The gesture was so blindingly fast that he hadn't even seen it coming–hadn't even registered Jin's hand moving until it flicked straight across his face.
Jeongguk's head snapped to the side. His eyes doubled in size, his lips parting in sheer shock as the skin of his cheek began to throb and burn.
Seokjin had just slapped him.
"What makes you think you can even ask something like that?" Jin’s voice was low, the ice-cold sharpness of it making Jeongguk's eyes prickle all over again. "It’s none of your business. It was never any of your fucking business in the first place, Gguk-ah!"
Jeongguk flinched violently, curling inward as if trying to shrink away from his hyung's frame. "S-sorry. I'm sorry, hyung," he choked out, entirely unable to hold back the pathetic sob that tore through his throat.
He heard Jin scoff from where he loomed over him. Despite their actual height difference not being all that drastic, right now, Jin felt a thousand feet tall, completely dominating the small space of the bathroom.
"Look at me." Jin stepped closer, the tips of his toes nearly touching Jeongguk’s feet. He reached out, his fingers catching Jeongguk tightly by the chin and forcing his face upward. The grip was firm, bruisingly so, ensuring the maknae couldn't look down at the floor to hide his tears.
"What did you see?" he added, his gaze tracking the fresh tears spilling over Jeongguk’s lower eyelids.
Jeongguk shook his head as best he could within the tight vice of Jin's grip, a small whimpering sound escaping his lips. "N–nothing, hyung. I promi–" The answer broke off into another pathetic whimper when Jin’s nails dug into the skin of his jaw, jerking his head closer.
"What did you see, Jeongguk? Did you see Seo-jun get gagged until drool was spilling from the corners of his lips? Did you see his skin run raw from how much I spanked him? Did you see him pass out from how many times I made him come?"
Every listed-off memory made Jeongguk squirm more and more, tears escaping and falling freely as he suffocated–both mentally from Jin’s vulgar words and physically from Seokjin's body pressing him further against the edge of the sink.
"Answer me!" Jin gritted, jerking the maknae's head again and consequently making their foreheads knock together from how close they were.
"Everything! I s–saw everything!" Jeongguk sobbed out, completely wrecked at this point from sheer shame. This was turning out to be far more humiliating than Namjoon-hyung's lectures after all.
"Of course you did," Jin hummed. "And you kept coming back to see more, right? Little baby tokki just couldn't stay away from what didn't involve him, huh? Instead, choosing to be a disgusting reprobate and watch his hyung."
Another sob wracked out of Jeongguk, overwhelmed with embarrassment and shame. "I'm sorry, hyung. So, so, so sorry!"
"Did you like it?" Seokjin probed condescendingly. "Is that why you kept coming back?" He urged, pushing his body further against Jeongguk's until he paused upon feeling something hard press against his thigh.
It's like realization dawned on them at the same time. Their eyes met and Jeongguk's widened under Jin's scrutinizing ones, holding a stare-off for a second before falling to look down between them and right at the very noticeable bulge straining Jeongguk's boxers.
The silence in the bathroom stretched as Jeongguk’s lungs seized, his tear-streaked face burning with a humiliation so deep he thought he might dissolve into the tile floor.
"Look at that." Jin’s voice dropped to a whisper, each syllable dipped in condescension. "You really are a pathetic little thing, aren’t you? Crying your eyes out because hyung scolded you, and yet…" His thigh nudged forward, putting pressure against the bulge. Jeongguk’s hips bucked involuntarily, a strangled whimper escaping his throat. "Your pathetic little cock is so hard it’s about to leak."
Jeongguk shook his head in denial, but the motion only made Jin’s fingers clamp harder on his jaw, holding him still.
"Don’t lie to me, Tokki-ya." The nickname, once a term of soft affection, now felt like a brand. "You’ve been getting hard watching me for weeks. Every time you skipped class, every time you hid behind that door, your hand was in your pants, wasn’t it? Getting your shorts all sticky while I fucked someone else."
A sob hiccuped through Jeongguk’s chest. His hands, which had been clutching at the sink’s edge for balance, reached up on instinct to push Jin away–but his hyung caught both wrists in one fluid motion, pinning them against his chest.
"I–I didn’t mean to–" he stammered, but the words died as Jin’s free hand released his jaw and trailed downward. Fingertips ghosted over the hollow of his throat, tracing the frantic flutter of his pulse, then dipped lower, skating down the center of his chest. Jeongguk’s stomach quivered, muscles tensing and releasing in sporadic flutters.
"You didn’t mean to what?" Jin’s breath fanned hot against his ear, his tone dripping with mock curiosity. "Didn’t mean to become a little voyeur? Didn’t mean to get obsessed with seeing what your hyung does behind closed doors?" His fingers reached the waistband of Jeongguk’s boxers but didn’t dip beneath them quite yet. "You’re trembling, baby. Are you scared?"
Jeongguk couldn’t answer. Couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond the electric current zipping from where Jin’s knuckles grazed the sensitive skin just above his cock. A drop of pre-come had already soaked through the cotton, causing a dark spot that betrayed him fully.
Jin saw it and chuckled. "You’re not scared," he murmured, answering his own question. "You’re so turned on you can barely stand, aren’t you? You want me to touch you. You’ve been dreaming about it. Wondering what it would feel like to be the one bent over and sobbing for me."
The accusation landed with the precision of a blade, and Jeongguk’s vision blurred with a fresh surge of tears. Because it was true. Horrifyingly, shamefully true. In the darkest moments of his nights, after watching Seokjin break that man apart, he’d imagined himself in Seo-jun’s place. Imagined those fingers wrapped around his own throat, that cock splitting him open.
"It’s okay," Jin cooed, the gentleness somehow more terrifying than his anger had been. "Hyung will take care of you. Since you wanted my attention so badly, you’re going to get it."
The hand on his waistband finally moved. But instead of pushing downward, Jin’s palm cupped him through the fabric in a way that had Jeongguk choking on a gasp. His hips thrust forward of their own accord, grinding against the hand.
"Oh, look at that," Jin laughed, the sound devoid of real humor. "Grinding on me like a dog in heat. You have no shame left at all, do you?"
"Please–" The word tore from Jeongguk’s throat before he could stop it.
"Please what?" Jin’s grip tightened, fingers curling around the shape of him through the boxers, squeezing just shy of painful. "You want me to stop? Or you want more? Be specific, Jeongguk-ah. Use your words."
Jeongguk’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping on land. He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t voice the want clawing at his insides. His hips kept moving though, in a desperate rhythm he couldn’t control.
Seokjin’s expression hardened, and without warning, he released Jeongguk’s wrists and instead grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back until his throat was bared to the bathroom light. "I said, use your words. What did you imagine me doing to you, huh? Did you think I’d be gentle? Did you think I’d kiss it better? Or did you think I’d treat you exactly like I treat Seo-jun? Like a pretty little toy to be used until he can’t remember his own name?"
The sting in Jeongguk’s scalp sent sparks cascading down his spine, and the sob that broke free was half agony, half need. "Like that," he finally gasped. "I wanted–I wanted you to use me like that."
The air shifted, and something dangerous flickered behind Jin’s eyes. "There it is," he breathed. "Finally, a little honesty."
He released Jeongguk’s hair only to spin him around. The maknae’s chest hit the cold marble of the sink counter, his hands scrambling for purchase against the surface. The mirror reflected his own wrecked face back at him–eyes red-rimmed, lips swollen from biting, cheeks blotchy with tears and shame.
"You wanted to watch?" Jin’s voice curled around the shell of Jeongguk’s ear as his body pressed flush against his back. The heat of him was suffocating, his hard cock nestling against the cleft of Jeongguk’s ass through two layers of fabric. "Now you don’t get to hide behind a door. You’re going to watch every single second of what I do to you in this mirror. And if you close your eyes, if you look away for even a second, I’ll make you regret it. Do you understand?"
Jeongguk nodded frantically, his reflection bobbing in the glass.
"Words, Jeongguk."
"Y–yes, hyung. I understand." His voice was wrecked, barely a whisper.
Jin smirked and let his hands slide down Jeongguk’s sides, over the ridges of his ribs, until they hooked into the waistband of his boxers. With a yank, the fabric slipped down his thighs, pooling around his ankles. The cool air hit Jeongguk’s exposed skin, and his cock sprung free, slapping against his lower belly, flushed a furious red and glistening at the tip.
"Pathetic," Jin repeated, a verdict laced with amusement. One hand wrapped around Jeongguk’s cock, simply holding it. "So hard and you haven’t even been touched yet. What would Seo-jun think? He endures so much for me, and you’re about to fall apart from just this."
The comparison stung, a bitter jealousy tangling with the pleasure. Jeongguk’s hips tried to thrust into the grip, but Jin’s other hand clamped down on his hip, nails digging crescent moons into the flesh, pinning him still.
"Ah-ah. No moving. You’ll take what I give you, exactly how I give it."
A desperate whine seeped from Jeongguk’s throat as Jin’s thumb swept over the head of his cock, gathering the slick bead of moisture and smearing it down the shaft. The touch was clinical, almost detached, as if Jeongguk were nothing more than an object to be examined.
"You’re so wet already," Jin observed. "This is what you’ve been doing in your room at night, isn’t it? Humping your hand like a desperate little rabbit, thinking about me?"
"Y–yes, hyung," Jeongguk admitted, the confession barely audible.
"Of course you were." Jin finally began to move his hand, but the pace was agonizingly slow–a lazy slide from base to tip that provided just enough friction to drive him insane without ever approaching satisfaction. His reflection showed the torment clearly: his own mouth hanging open, eyes glassy with unshed tears, while behind him, Jin watched.
"Please," Jeongguk begged again, the word cracking apart. "Please, hyung, faster–I need–"
"You need?" Jin’s hand stopped entirely, resting motionless at the base. The sudden denial was another strike of torture. "You don’t get to need anything. You gave that up right the moment you decided to spy on me. This isn’t about what you need, Tokki-ya. This is about punishment."
The hand on his hip left its post, and Jeongguk watched in the mirror as Jin’s fingers dripped downward–past the small of his back, down until they traced the tight ring of muscle between his cheeks. The contact was featherlight, but Jeongguk’s entire body seized as if he’d been electrocuted.
No one had ever touched him there. No one.
Jin’s eyes met his in the mirror, a silent question wrapped in a dare. "Has anyone ever been inside you, Jeongguk-ah?"
A frantic shake of his head.
The finger pressed harder, the dry pad of it threatening to breach. "Then I suppose this will be a lesson you won’t soon forget."
And with that, Seokjin pushed forward, just the tip of his finger, and Jeongguk’s world narrowed to that single point of pressure as he watched his own expression shatter in the glass.
His mouth stretched around a silent cry, eyes blown black beneath the bathroom’s fluorescence. Jin’s finger pushed deeper, the friction a raw scrape that sent his nervous system into revolt. His thighs trembled and his fingers, still braced against the sink’s edge, curled until his knuckles whitened.
"So tight," Jin murmured. "You really have never been touched here, have you? Not even by yourself?"
All Jeongguk could muster was another frantic head shake since words had abandoned him entirely.
Jin’s smile curled cruel. "Of course not. Our innocent little maknae. Wouldn’t even know where to begin."
The finger withdrew, and Jeongguk gasped–relief flooding in, premature and foolish. Behind him, Jin reached toward the vanity drawer, pulling it open with a casualness that spoke of familiarity. The bottle of lubricant he retrieved was half-empty, its label worn at the edges and Jeongguk’s stomach dropped. He knew that bottle. Had seen it in Jin’s hands before, had watched him slick his cock with it before sinking into Seo-jun’s wrecked body.
"You recognize this," Jin stated, clearly not in question. "Good. Then you know what comes next."
The cap clicked open and cool gel drizzled directly onto Jeongguk’s exposed cleft, making him flinch. Jin’s fingers followed immediately, spreading the slickness and circling the tight ring of muscle without pressing in.
"Count for me."
"Wh–what?"
A sharp crack split the air before Jeongguk registered the motion. His right ass cheek bloomed with heat, the sting radiating outward in waves and his hips jolted forward against the sink’s edge, his neglected cock dragging against the cold marble.
"I said count," Jin repeated, his palm already lifting for another strike. "Or do I need to start over?"
"O–one," Jeongguk stammered.
The second spank landed lower, catching the sensitive junction where thigh met curve. "Two."
"Louder."
"Two!”
By the sixth strike, Jeongguk’s skin was on fire, the flesh of his ass undoubtedly glowing an angry crimson that would linger for days. But something else had shifted too–his cock leaked steadily against the sink, a puddle of pre-cum gathering beneath him. The pain and the pleasure had blurred into something indistinguishable, something that made his head swim and his hips push back, seeking more.
"Look at you. Presenting yourself like a whore." Two slick fingers pressed against his entrance, and this time, they didn’t stop. "You’re aching for it, aren’t you? After six spanks, you’re practically begging to be split open."
The penetration was smoother now, lubricant easing the passage, but the stretch still stole Jeongguk’s breath. Two fingers, long and relentless, scissoring him open with a patience that felt deliberate. Mapping the uncharted territory of his body with the authority of someone who had done this countless times before.
Then he found it, and Jeongguk’s vision whited out. A sound tore from his throat–something between a scream and a moan–as Jin’s fingertips pressed ruthlessly against the swollen gland inside him.
"There it is," Jin breathed, and drove his fingers forward again. And again. A merciless rhythm that reduced Jeongguk to a shaking, sobbing mess against the sink.
The pressure built with terrifying speed. Jeongguk could feel it coiling at the base of his spine, tightening with every stroke of Jin’s fingers against that devastating spot. His cock throbbed, untouched and leaking, and he knew that he was about to come from nothing but Jin’s fingers buried inside him.
"H-hyung, I’m–I’m gonna–"
"I know." Jin’s free hand reached around and gripped Jeongguk’s cock, squeezing the base hard enough to hurt. "But you don’t get to decide when. You come when I let you."
The denial was torture. Jeongguk sobbed, actual tears streaming down his cheeks, his hips trying desperately to thrust into Jin’s fist and back onto his fingers simultaneously, caught between two points of overwhelming sensation with nowhere to go.
"Please," he begged, the word dissolving into a whimper. "Please, hyung, I can’t–I can’t hold it–"
"You can. And you will." Jin’s fingers slowed to a lazy grind, keeping him right at the precipice without tipping him over. "Or do you want me to stop entirely?"
"NO! No, please, don’t stop, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I promise–'
Jin laughed coldly, and his grip on Jeongguk’s cock loosened, his fingers resuming their punishing pace. "Then come. Now."
The command unlocked something. Jeongguk’s orgasm ripped through him with the force of a detonation, his release painting the cabinet doors beneath the sink in white streaks. His body convulsed, clamping down around Jin’s fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him. A wail clawed its way out of his throat–too loud, far too loud for a dorm full of sleeping bandmates, but he couldn’t stop it.
Jin didn’t stop either. His fingers kept moving, working Jeongguk through the climax until the maknae was twitching with oversensitivity, tears and saliva smearing his reflection in the mirror.
"Good," Jin said, withdrawing his fingers with an obscene squelch. "That’s one."
One.
Jeongguk’s post-orgasmic haze shattered at that. He watched in the mirror as Jin pushed his pajama pants down just far enough to free his cock, and his mind went blank with terror. He’d seen it before–had watched it disappear inside Seo-jun’s body–but seeing it now, slick and aimed at his own entrance, was an entirely different reality.
"Wait–hyung, wait–"
"The safeword," Jin cut him off, the head of his cock pressing against Jeongguk’s loosened hole. "If you need to stop, the safeword is ‘Red.’ Say it and everything ends. But if you say it, Jeongguk-ah, I won’t touch you again. Not tonight. Not ever, because I'll know you can't handle me." He paused, letting the weight of that sink in. "Do you understand?"
Jeongguk understood perfectly. This was the only chance he’d get. Whatever twisted part of him had been craving this–had been skipping classes and soiling his pants for weeks–would be starved forever if he backed out now.
"I understand," he whispered.
Jin didn’t give him another second to reconsider.
The first push stole the air from Jeongguk’s lungs. The stretch was unlike anything he’d ever experienced–a splitting fullness that felt impossible, that felt like it would tear him apart from the inside out. His mouth opened on a wail, but Jin’s hand was faster, two fingers shoving past his lips and pressing down on his tongue.
"Quiet," Jin hissed against his ear, still pushing, still sinking deeper. "You’ll wake the whole dorm, and then everyone will know what a desperate little cockslut their maknae really is."
Jeongguk gagged around the intrusion, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth and dripping down his chin. The fingers in his mouth muffled the sounds he couldn’t stop making–the whimpers, the choked sobs, the broken moans as Jin finally bottomed out, hips flush against Jeongguk’s reddened ass.
"Fuck." The curse fell from Seokjin's lips like a prayer, his composure cracking for a single moment. "You’re so fucking tight. Tighter than Seo-jun ever was."
The comparison sent a bolt of something dark and possessive through Jeongguk’s chest. Better. He said I’m better.
Then Jin started moving, and all coherent thought ceased.
The rhythm was brutal from the first thrust. No gentle buildup, no consideration for the virgin body clenching desperately around him. Jin fucked into Jeongguk like he was trying to break him–long, punishing strokes that bottomed out against his prostate with devastating accuracy. The fingers in his mouth kept his screams contained, but they couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face or the way his eyes rolled back in the mirror.
"Look at yourself," Jin reminded, and Jeongguk forced his gaze to focus on the reflection. The sight was debauched: his own face wrecked, mouth stretched around Jin’s digits, drool glistening on his chin. Behind him, Jin’s expression was one of focused cruelty, his hips pistoning forward in a merciless tempo. "This is what you wanted, this is what you’ve been watching for weeks. How does it feel to finally be on the receiving end?"
Jeongguk couldn’t answer around Seokjin's fingers, but his cock–already stirring again, already hardening despite the recent orgasm–answered for him.
Jin noticed immediately. "Already? God, you’re insatiable." His pace increased, if that was even possible, each thrust punching a muffled cry from Jeongguk’s throat. "Fine. Come again. Show me how much of a whore you really are."
The second orgasm was torn from somewhere deeper, more painful than the first. Jeongguk’s body seized, his hole clamping rhythmically around Jin’s cock as he spilled onto the sink cabinet once more. This time, the pleasure was edged with some discomfort–his body protesting the demand for another release so soon after the first.
Jin didn’t stop after that.
He kept fucking through the climax, through the oversensitivity, through Jeongguk’s desperate attempts to squirm away from the relentless assault on his prostate. The fingers slipped from his mouth, and immediately a stream of pleas poured out.
"Hyung–hyung, please–too much, it’s too much–"
"You can take it." Sweat dripped from Jin’s brow onto Jeongguk’s shoulder. "You wanted to be used. This is what being used feels like."
The pleasure had curdled into something overwhelming, a sensation so intense it bordered on agony. Every thrust sent sparks of electricity through Jeongguk’s nervous system, his spent cock twitching helplessly between his legs. The tears wouldn’t stop. His throat was raw from the sounds he couldn’t suppress.
"Red." The word came out broken, desperate. "Red, hyung, red–"
Jin’s rhythm stuttered for a suspended second. But then his hand fisted in Jeongguk’s hair, holding him in place. "Not now, Jeongguk."
"But I said–"
"I heard what you said." Another brutal thrust, deeper than before. "And I said not fucking now. I’m too close."
The betrayal should have sparked anger. Instead, it sparked something far more disturbing–a fresh wave of arousal that made Jeongguk’s abused cock give a painful twitch. Seokjin was using him. Truly, completely, without regard for his comfort or consent. And some broken part of Jeongguk’s psyche loved it.
"Please," he sobbed, no longer sure if he was begging for mercy or for Jin to never stop. "Please, hyung, please–"
Jin’s pace turned erratic, his composure finally crumbling. Three more thrusts, and then he buried himself to the hilt, a moan vibrating against Jeongguk’s nape as he spilled. The sensation of being filled, of hot release flooding his insides, triggered something in Jeongguk’s overwrought body.
His third orgasm was dry and painful. Nothing came out, but the convulsions that wracked his frame were the most violent yet–muscles clamping down in rhythmic spasms that milked Jin through the last pulses of his climax. A sob tore from Jeongguk’s chest as the pleasure-pain consumed him entirely.
And then it was over.
Jin pulled out slowly, and the sudden emptiness left Jeongguk gaping and leaking. He didn’t fall only because the sink was there to catch him, his chest slumping against the cold marble, his cheek pressing into a puddle of his own cooling cum. His legs wouldn’t hold him, and his mind had gone somewhere far away, floating in a haze of endorphins and exhaustion.
Through half-lidded eyes, he watched Jin tuck himself back into his pajama pants. Watched those slender fingers–the same ones that had been buried inside him moments ago–reach for a hand towel and wipe themselves clean.
"You did good," Jin said, his voice distant, as if coming from the other end of a tunnel. He tossed the soiled towel onto Jeongguk’s trembling back. "Clean yourself up. And Jeongguk-ie?"
Jeongguk managed a weak, questioning sound.
"If you ever spy on me again." The bathroom door creaked open. "I’ll go until you're unconscious."