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Taehyung’s apartment is freezing.
Like, actually freezing—radiators clanking uselessly, windows fogged from the inside, the kind of cold that makes your bones feel hollow.
They’d tried everything: turning on the oven and leaving the door open (Jimin’s idea), layering three hoodies each (Jungkook’s idea), even piling under every blanket they owned (Taehyung’s idea). None of it worked.
So now they’re all in Taehyung’s bed.
Not on it—in it. Crammed shoulder to shoulder under one monstrous comforter, three lumps of shivering denial.
“This is so not gay,” Jungkook mumbles into his pillow, voice muffled and defensive.
Jimin snorts, his breath fogging in the cold air. “Literally no one said it was, bro.”
“You were thinking it,” Jungkook accuses, because he can feel Jimin’s stupid grin even in the dark.
Taehyung yawns, a lazy drawl from the middle. “Can you two shut up? I’m trying to pretend I’m asleep.”
“Bro, your foot is on my thigh,” Jungkook grumbles.
“It’s warm,” Taehyung mutters. “Be grateful.”
Jimin laughs, the sound bright and obnoxious in the quiet. “Kook, your ass is freezing, by the way. Can you, like, stop radiating cold?”
Jungkook growls something incoherent and shifts, accidentally bumping his hip against Jimin’s. Jimin yelps, kicking him back. The comforter shifts dangerously, and all three of them instinctively grab the edges like their lives depend on it.
“Don’t—move—the blanket,” Taehyung hisses through clenched teeth. “It’s the only thing keeping me alive.”
“Then stop hogging it, bro!” Jungkook snaps, tugging uselessly.
Jimin wriggles closer to Taehyung, sticking his icy nose against his shoulder. “Tae’s warm, though. He’s like… naturally toasty. A human space heater.”
Taehyung makes a pleased noise, smug even half-asleep. “Exactly. Now shut up.”
Jungkook groans and buries his face in the pillow, muttering, “This is so dumb. We should’ve just booked a hotel.”
“Yeah? And which one of us is paying for that?” Jimin shoots back.
“Not me,” Jungkook says immediately.
Taehyung hums. “Not me either.”
“Exactly. Shut up and suffer.”
They fall into a restless, shared silence. Taehyung’s hair smells warm and faintly sweet. Jimin’s hand, draped somewhere near his waist, twitches occasionally in his sleep, brushing his hoodie.
Jungkook shifts again.
And immediately regrets it—because the friction sends a jolt through him. Lower. Sharp and sudden. His body tenses.
Fuck.
Of course. Of course now.
Jungkook breathes in slow, hoping it’ll just go away.
It doesn’t.
In fact, the more he tries not to think about it, the worse it gets. Every small movement—Taehyung shifting, Jimin twitching—makes the mattress dip and the blanket drag over him, and suddenly his sweatpants feels tight.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t—
Taehyung exhales softly next to him, his warm breath brushing Jungkook’s cheek. Jungkook nearly whimpers.
He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to adjust subtly, easing his hips back just an inch.
Bad idea.
He bumps directly into Jimin’s ass.
Jimin groans sleepily. “Bro… what the fuck…”
Jungkook freezes, voice cracking, “N-nothing! Go back to sleep!”
Jimin shifts again, blinking blearily. “Why are you poking me with—oh my god, are you hard?”
“NO,” Jungkook hisses, face burning. “Shut up, bro, it’s—it’s not like that—”
Jimin lifts his head groggily, peering at him through the dark. “You are. Oh my god. You’re pitching a tent in Taehyung’s bed. Bro. BRO.”
Taehyung groans from between them, voice thick with sleep. “Why are you two so loud? I was literally dreaming about hot ramen…”
Jimin, ever the menace, grins wickedly. “Kook woke up with morning wood.”
“I did not!” Jungkook protests, voice climbing embarrassingly high. “It’s—it’s just biology, bro! Heat transfer and… and friction, okay?!”
Taehyung, eyes still closed, mumbles, “Mhm. Sure. Totally not gay.”
Jimin wheezes into the blanket. “Dude, your denial is louder than your boner.”
Jungkook wants to die. His dick is rock hard, painfully caged in thick sweats and regret. It's pulsing against the fabric like it wants civil rights.
He shifts again, trying to discreetly adjust himself under the blanket.
Big mistake.
The mattress dips—and all hell breaks loose.
“Bro, why are you fidgeting like a worm?” Jimin grumbles, his face smushed into Taehyung’s shoulder.
“Because I can’t feel my legs,” Jungkook snaps back, yanking the blanket higher and trying not to rut into air like a dog in heat.
“Move them, then,” Taehyung mumbles, half-asleep.
“I would if someone’s bony-ass knee wasn’t on my thigh.”
“That’s Jimin,” Taehyung says without opening his eyes. “I’m the one keeping you warm. You’re welcome.”
Jungkook groans. “Yeah, thanks for radiating heat like a fucking space heater. I’m roasting alive and freezing at the same time and my dick’s stuck in hell.”
Jimin snickers, voice rough with sleep. “Cry harder, bro. Maybe your tears’ll lube it up.”
Jungkook kicks at him under the blanket. Jimin yelps and retaliates, tugging on Jungkook’s hoodie drawstrings until the hood chokes him like a soft cotton noose.
“Bro, I can’t breathe!”
“Good,” Jimin mutters, letting go like it’s an act of mercy.
Jungkook exhales dramatically. “Can you guys… like… turn the other way? Please?”
Both of them groan in unison. “Why?”
“Because—” Jungkook hesitates, face burning even though it’s pitch dark. “I’m, uh… really hard, okay? Lemme just… rub one out or I’m never getting warm.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Taehyung snorts so hard the blanket shifts. “Bro.”
Jimin wheezes into his pillow. “You’re telling me your solution to being cold is… jerking off?”
Jungkook glares at the ceiling, deadpan. “Heat transfer, bro. Science.”
Taehyung loses it completely, laughing into Jimin’s neck. “Yeah, I’m sure your dick’s a nuclear reactor.”
Jimin’s cackling now. “Oh my god, just go to the bathroom, you idot.”
“It’s freezing out there!” Jungkook snaps. “You think I’m leaving the blanket? My dick’ll snap off.”
Jungkook groans into his pillow like the world has failed him. “You guys are the worst friends I’ve ever had.”
“Roommates,” Jimin corrects, still giggling. “Not friends. Legally different.”
“Semantics, bro,” Taehyung mumbles, voice lazy but smug. “Honestly, Jimin, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. Just… someone give him a handjob so we can all sleep.”
There’s a split second of stunned silence.
Jimin practically levitates. “BRO.”
Jungkook chokes. “WHAT?”
Taehyung shrugs under the blanket, completely unbothered. “What? It’s practical. Warmth problem solved. Everyone goes back to sleep. No big deal.”
“That’s so—so gay, bro!” Jimin sputters, voice breaking like a pubescent choirboy. “You can’t just—handjobs aren’t like… a sleep aid!”
Taehyung yawns, eyes still closed. “Sure they are. It’s just bromance. Bros help bros. Happens all the time.”
Jimin’s scandalized gasp could register on the Richter scale. “In what fucking universe?!”
Jungkook groans into his sleeve. “Can you two stop talking about my dick like it’s a group project?”
Taehyung smirks in the dark. “We’re just brainstorming solutions, bro. Don’t be ungrateful.”
Jimin shoves at Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’m not touching his dick. You touch his dick.”
“Why me?”
“Because you suggested it!”
Taehyung scoffs, clearly enjoying himself. “Wow. Some friend you are. Refusing to help a bro in need.”
“Bromance has limits, Taehyung!”
“Yeah,” Jungkook groans. “Like—maybe—the line is my actual dick ?!”
Jungkook groans, dragging the blanket over his face. “You guys suck. I’m just gonna do it myself.”
“Oh my god, here?!” Jimin squeaks, yanking the comforter off his own face. “Bro, this is a shared blanket—”
“Exactly,” Jungkook grits out. “It’s warm. I’m not getting frostbite on my balls for the sake of your delicate sensibilities.”
Jimin sputters. “You’re gonna traumatize me!”
“Close your eyes then!” Jungkook huffs, already shifting uncomfortably. “Or better yet, turn the other way like I asked ten minutes ago.”
There’s a beat of quiet. Then Taehyung’s voice, calm as ever:
“…I’ll do it.”
Both Jimin and Jungkook freeze.
“What?” Jimin croaks, sounding personally victimized.
Taehyung yawns, the warmth making him lazy and horny. “I’ll help him out. My hands are warm. Solves the problem faster. We all go back to sleep.”
“That’s—that’s not a real solution!” Jimin stammers, kicking at Taehyung under the blanket. “Bro, that’s, like… next-level gay—”
“It’s just bromance,” Taehyung replies smoothly, already shifting under the comforter. “Relax, Jiminie. You wouldn’t get it.”
“I get it enough to know this is insane! ” Jimin’s voice cracks, climbing an octave. “Jungkook, say something!”
But Jungkook is too busy choking on his own spit, brain buffering at the mental image of Taehyung’s long, ringed fingers wrapped around his cock.
“Uh—I—wait—what?”
Taehyung doesn’t wait.
His hand slides under the blanket, finds Jungkook’s waistband, and slips in with practiced ease. His palm is so warm—too warm—and Jungkook’s already leaking, twitching under the first gentle stroke.
A sound escapes Jungkook before he can stop it.
A moan. Loud. Mortifying.
It cuts through the dark like a gunshot. Echoes off the wall like confession.
Jimin flails violently. “BRO—DID YOU JUST—?!”
Jungkook clamps a hand over his mouth, horrified. “Shut up, it’s—it’s cold, okay?! He’s just—warm—fuck, oh god—”
Taehyung’s lips twitch into the faintest smirk, unseen in the dark. “See? Problem solved.”
Under the blanket, his hand works slow and steady, pumping Jungkook’s cock with lazy strokes like he has all night to ruin him. The friction is unreal after how cold he’s been—each drag of Taehyung’s palm making Jungkook’s hips buck like he’s possessed.
He bites down on his fist, trying to muffle the needy little noises spilling out of him anyway. It’s useless.
“Dude, you sound like you’re dying,” Jimin hisses, torn between disgust and morbid curiosity. “I can literally feel the bed shaking.”
Jungkook glares blindly into the dark, breath hitching as he gasps, “Then—turn around!”
Taehyung just hums, completely unbothered. His tone is teasing, syrupy. “What? You said you were freezing. I’m helping you warm up, remember?”
He twists his wrist— just slightly. His thumb brushes over the slick head and Jungkook jerks , whining against his knuckles.
Pathetic. He can’t even pretend he’s holding it together.
Jimin, who had been mid-protest, suddenly goes silent.
Like, eerily silent.
Jungkook barely registers it—too consumed by Taehyung’s hand, the warmth and drag and obscene squelch of slick skin under the blanket. His thighs are trembling. His hips won’t stay still. He can feel himself falling apart and he hasn’t even lasted a minute.
“Haaahhhh. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Every shaky gasp he lets out fills the room like another broken truth.
Taehyung notices. Of course he does.
His hand never stops moving as he flicks his eyes toward the still figure beside them.
“…Why’d you go quiet, Jiminie?”
No answer.
“Bro?” Jungkook pants, chest heaving. “You—you good?”
They both turn toward him.
Jimin’s lying stiff as a board, facing the wall, shoulders locked like he’s bracing for impact. Even in the dark, they can make out the faint sheen of sweat on his temple—in this freezing-ass room.
“…Dude?” Taehyung presses, biting back a grin. “You good?”
Jimin swallows audibly, voice breaking when he finally answers, “I—I’m fine.”
Taehyung’s brows lift. “You’re sweating.”
“Y-yeah, it’s, uh… insulation.”
Jungkook, dazed and breathless, manages to focus just long enough to squint at him. And the tent, even Jimin, is pitching now. “Bro… are you… hard?”
Jimin lets out an unconvincing laugh that dies immediately. “No?”
Taehyung smirks, hand still lazily stroking Jungkook like this is all completely normal. “You’re lying.”
Jimin groans into his pillow. “...Okay, maybe a little. You’re the one jerking him off like it’s an ASMR tutorial , what do you expect, bro?!”
Jungkook’s breathing is wrecked, face flushed, but even through the haze he catches that whiny confession.
“…You too, huh?” he pants, a crooked, breathless grin tugging at his lips. “Guess I’m not the only one suffering.”
Jimin groans louder, burying his face in the pillow like it’s going to protect him from the sheer wrongness of the moment.
“This is so fucked, bro. We’re literally roommates—this breaks, like, all the rules.”
Taehyung chuckles, slow and warm, still pumping Jungkook like he’s not even doing anything worth noting. “Relax, Jiminie. You’re overthinking. I’m kinda... hot too, honestly.”
Jimin jerks his head around so fast the comforter flutters. “What?!”
“Yeah,” Taehyung says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Bro’s warm, my hand’s warm, it’s nice. No big deal.”
Jimin looks between them, horrified. “Am I the only one who thinks this is completely insane?”
Jungkook snorts, lifting one trembling hand from under the blanket. He forms a lazy circle with his thumb and forefinger, then slides his other hand’s middle finger through it with a wobbly smirk.
“We could just… you know… do this.”
Taehyung doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, that works.”
Jimin’s jaw drops. “BRO. No. Absolutely not. That’s—that’s like—fucking. We’re crossing a line!”
“What line?” Taehyung deadpans. “It’s just helping out. Bromance at its finest.”
Jungkook grins, eyes blown, hair messy, breath wrecked. “Exactly, bro. We’re freezing. This is, like… survival instincts.”
Jimin throws his hands up, face red. “SURVIVAL?! You guys are literally suggesting a—” He cuts himself off, muffling another groan into the pillow. “...God, I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”
Taehyung smirks, leaning just enough to nudge Jimin’s thigh with his knee under the blanket. “Come on, Jiminie. You’re already hard. Might as well make it a team effort.”
Jimin groans again— muffled, tortured —his face half-buried. “I hate both of you.”
He’s still whining into the pillow when Taehyung suddenly moves, shrugging the comforter down just enough to tug his hoodie off. It’s so casual—so Taehyung —that neither of them processes it until bare shoulders glint in the faint light.
“Bro—what are you doing ?!” Jimin sputters, eyes wide, voice cracking.
Taehyung ignores him.
He leans over Jungkook, one palm braced beside his head, and crashes their mouths together in a messy, hungry kiss. Jungkook moans into it, half in surprise, half because Taehyung tastes warm and sweet and alive after hours of freezing.
“Holy fuck,” Jungkook gasps when Taehyung finally pulls back, lips slick and shiny. His free hand’s already under the blanket, jerking himself in frantic, shuddery strokes— ruined from just a kiss.
Jimin can only stare , slack-jawed. “Bro. You’re just… straight up… making out now?!”
Taehyung doesn’t bother to answer. He shifts, still straddling Jungkook, and turns to Jimin. Before he can protest, Taehyung’s fingers catch his jaw, tilting him up.
Then Taehyung kisses him.
Jimin makes a strangled noise—half panic, half moan—arms frozen uselessly at his sides. Taehyung kisses like he owns his mouth—deep, unhurried, maddeningly thorough.
It takes a beat. But then Jimin melts, hands fisting in the sheets as his lips start moving back—clumsy, unsure, but wanting .
Jungkook groans from where he’s sprawled beneath them, watching through half-lidded eyes, his own cock slick in his fist. His chest rises and falls in fast, desperate jerks as Taehyung kisses Jimin like he’s tasting sin—slow and intentional—while Jungkook’s been suffering alone for what feels like hours.
“Fucking hell…” he rasps, hips stuttering into his own grip.
Taehyung breaks the kiss just long enough to smirk against Jimin’s lips, his thumb swiping across Jimin’s now-swollen mouth. “Told you, bro. Nothing to worry about.”
Jimin just gapes at him, dazed and panting. “We’re so going to hell.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook gasps, pumping himself harder. “And I’m not even mad about it.”
Taehyung leans back, lips flushed and glistening, eyes heavy with amusement. He shrugs the rest of his clothes off like it’s nothing , the comforter falling to his lap. His skin glows warm in the faint light—broad chest, golden tan, cut lines tracing down his stomach.
For a moment, none of them speak.
Then Jungkook mutters, voice cracked and raw: “Jesus fucking Christ . You’re fucking hot.”
Jimin can’t look away, still catching his breath. “Bro… you’re actually naked now.”
Taehyung grins, unbothered. “Warmer this way.” He tugs Jimin by the hoodie until he stumbles forward, landing straddled across Taehyung’s bare lap. “You, too.”
“W-wait—” Jimin squeaks, but it’s too late. Taehyung already has his hoodie halfway off, dragging it over his head and tossing it aside like it’s in the way. His hands skim up Jimin’s sides, knuckles grazing sensitive skin, and Jimin shudders—heat flooding up his neck and flushing his cheeks.
Jungkook groans from where he’s spread out, fist pumping his cock like he’s watching pay-per-view. “Holy shit,” he pants, eyes glued to the sight in front of him. “This is—fuck—”
Taehyung glances over his shoulder, smirking lazily. “You just gonna sit there, Kook?”
Jungkook swallows, panting, dazed. “No, just… strategizing.” He licks his lips, eyes wild, and then blurts, “So… what positions are we taking?”
Jimin nearly falls off Taehyung’s lap. “BRO?!”
Taehyung laughs, tipping his head back like this is the best entertainment he’s had all year. “You’re seriously asking that now?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook says, already sitting up and shoving the blanket off completely. His sweatpants hang low, cock hard and flushed, leaking against his abs. “We’ve got three people. We need a game plan.”
Jimin stares at him, scandalized. “Bro, this isn’t a group project—”
“Sure it is,” Jungkook argues, tugging his waistband lower. “Three of us. One middleman. It’s math.”
Taehyung hums, hands gripping Jimin’s hips tight to keep him from sliding away. “Fair, huh? That’s easy. Jimin gets no say—he’s both fucking and getting fucked.”
Jimin’s whole brain blue-screens . “WHAT?!”
Jungkook grins wickedly, stepping out of his sweatpants and tossing them aside. “Yeah, makes sense. Tae’s getting it from behind, I’m topping, and you…” He pauses, eyes sparkling with mischief. “…you’re the lucky sandwich.”
“In the—bro, what the fuck!” Jimin squeals, flailing as Taehyung hauls him closer, their bare chests sliding against each other.
“You can’t just decide that—”
“Too late,” Taehyung purrs, mouthing at Jimin’s jaw. “Majority rules, Jiminie.”
Jungkook barks a breathless laugh, already crawling back onto the bed. “Welcome to the team, bro.”
The blanket is already a disaster by the time Jungkook rolls off the bed again, yanking open Taehyung’s drawer with manic energy. “Where’s the lube, bro?!”
“Top shelf—no, left side—yeah, there,” Taehyung calls, casually like they’re picking snacks for movie night.
Jungkook triumphantly lifts the bottle. “Got it!” He scrambles back, stripping the rest of the way as he climbs back onto the mattress, cock bobbing with each movement.
Meanwhile, Jimin is still squirming like he thinks he has a chance. “Bro, wait, hold on—we’re not actually—”
“Shh,” Taehyung hums, spinning him around like a doll. One blink later and Jimin’s on all fours, hoodie gone, sweatpants yanked down to his knees. His ass is high, thighs trembling, face buried in the sheets.
“You’ll thank me in a sec.”
“I will not—oh fuck—” Jimin chokes on the end of his protest as Taehyung’s lubed fingers slide in without mercy , two at once, knuckles-deep.
“Jesus, you’re tight,” Taehyung groans, his palm flat on Jimin’s lower back, fingers curling expertly. “Fucking greedy hole, huh?”
Jimin’s entire body jerks, a strangled moan punched out of him. “Oh my god ! Bro—stop, I’m serious—oh, fuck, right there—”
Taehyung chuckles, voice dark and smug. He keeps grinding into Jimin’s prostate, slow and unrelenting. “You were saying?”
“Don’t stop Tae.”
Jungkook, kneeling behind Taehyung now, slicks his fingers with lube and presses them right against Tae’s hole. “Let’s see how you like it.”
Taehyung gasps, cock twitching against his stomach as Jungkook pushes two fingers in—deep, hard, unforgiving. “Ah, fuck—Kook—shit—”
Jungkook leans in, kissing the back of Taehyung’s neck, before dragging him into a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues tangle, Taehyung groaning into it as Jungkook scissors him open with the same pace Taehyung’s using on Jimin.
“Mmm, fuck.” Taehyung’s voice vibrated.
“BRO!” Jimin wails from the sheets, his ass bouncing involuntarily with every stroke. “You’re literally fingering me. Focus on me tool—”
“Can’t help it,” Taehyung gasps, voice breaking against Jungkook’s lips. “You’re fucking loud, Jiminie.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook growls, fingers slick and fast as he stretches Taehyung harder. “He’s so fucking loud—makes me harder every time he moans.”
Jimin makes another guttural, broken sound—half a sob, half a curse—as his knees tremble, hips grinding back into Taehyung’s fingers. “I hate you both—I fucking—oh god—don’t stop—”
They move fast.
Jungkook and Taehyung flip Jimin onto his back, sweatpants finally kicked off, knees forced wide apart. He’s flushed everywhere—cheeks pink, neck red, thighs trembling. His cock is leaking across his stomach, twitching with every shift of the mattress.
He stares up at Taehyung with huge, blown-out eyes. His chest heaves, breath shaky, lips parted and kiss-bruised.
And Taehyung, crouched over him, looks like the devil himself—skin flushed, mouth swollen, fingers still glistening from both of them.
Jungkook just groans, practically drooling. “Bro, he’s so fucked.”
Taehyung smirks down at Jimin, licking his bottom lip. “Not yet, he’s not.”
“Bro—wait, I don’t—” Jimin stammers, voice cracking under the weight of it all, but Taehyung’s already leaning down, kissing him slow and deep.
It’s filthy, tongue-first and hungry, swallowing Jimin’s gasp as he rolls his hips forward—cock nudging at his slick, stretched entrance.
“Relax, Jiminie,” Taehyung murmurs against his mouth, voice like syrup, dark and warm. “I’ve got you.”
Behind them, Jungkook watches like a fucking predator—eyes blown, lips parted, chest heaving. He kneels at Taehyung’s back, fisting his cock as Taehyung starts pushing in—inch by inch, slow and cruel, until Jimin’s tight around him, shaking.
Jimin claws at Taehyung’s shoulders, body arching. “F-Fuck—Tae—oh my god—”
“Shh,” Taehyung soothes, kissing his cheek like he’s not about to rearrange his insides. “Just breathe, baby. You’re doing so good—taking all of me like that.”
Jimin whimpers, thighs trembling as Taehyung bottoms out, buried to the hilt. His entire body goes taut, breath stolen from his lungs. “Oh fuck—fuck—he’s so deep—”
Behind them, Jungkook lets out a needy groan. “Holy shit ,” he mutters, slicking himself up in a rush. “Tae, I’m going in.”
Taehyung barely braces before Jungkook’s cock presses against his hole—blunt and eager—and then pushes in with one slow, thick stroke.
“Ah—fuck—Kook—” Taehyung gasps, his arms trembling, cock buried in Jimin, ass filled by Jungkook. “Fucking hell—”
The three of them are nothing but sweat and skin and sound, tangled limbs and overlapping moans. Jimin’s pinned beneath Taehyung, Taehyung’s trapped between them, and Jungkook’s buried deep, rutting into Taehyung with low, guttural grunts.
Jimin’s nails rake down Taehyung’s back, his head thrown back into the pillow as another moan spills out—wrecked and high and perfect.
“Fuck!” he cries, eyes wide and wet. “Bro, you—you said I’d be in the middle! ”
Taehyung chuckles breathlessly, rolling his hips so the movement drags all of them together. “Baby,” he pants, voice broken and fond, “it’s your first time. Didn’t wanna break you.”
“Overwhelm me?!” Jimin screeches, voice pitching up as Taehyung thrusts again—harder, deeper, meaner. The slap of hips meeting is obscene, and Jimin’s response is nothing short of sinful.
“Oh my fucking god—Tae— fuck— ”
Behind him, Jungkook groans. “Shit—he’s so tight—I can feel you clenching around him, Tae—fuck—your ass is squeezing the soul out of me—”
Jimin whines, toes curling, his body arching helplessly as Taehyung hits that spot —the one that makes his thighs shake and mouth fall open.
Taehyung braces over him, sweat dripping from his temples, breathing hot against Jimin’s ear. “That feel good, baby? You want more?”
He slams forward again—Jungkook’s thrust behind him knocking him even deeper—and Jimin screams , the sound shredded and raw.
“F-FUCK—TOO DEEP—” Jimin sobs, nails dragging red down Taehyung’s spine. He’s trembling, flushed, tears spilling at the corners of his eyes. “I can’t—I can’t—it’s too much—”
“Shh,” Taehyung pants, kissing the tears from his cheek. “You’re doing so good. Taking me like such a pretty little whore.”
Jungkook grits his teeth, fucking into Taehyung with bruising force. “Fucking hell, Tae—he’s clenching so hard I feel like I’m inside both of you—”
Taehyung huffs a shattered laugh, voice wrecked. “You hear that, Jiminie? Kook can feel your slutty moans all the way through me.”
Jimin wails, completely gone, fingers scrambling for something to hold as they pick up pace. Every thrust rocks the bed, skin slapping loud and messy, the mattress creaking like it’s seconds from breaking.
“I—hate—you—both—fuck—fuck—oh my god —”
Jungkook groans, his voice tight and raw. “He says he hates us, but this greedy hole’s milking your cock, bro—he loves it.”
Taehyung leans down, kissing Jimin again, wet and wild, moaning into his mouth as Jungkook slams into him. “Kook—fuck—harder— make him feel it. ”
Jungkook snarls, snapping his hips forward. The impact drives Taehyung deeper into Jimin, who screams , legs trembling.
Every thrust now is a goddamn wrecking ball—bodies slipping in sweat, cocks buried deep, sounds echoing off the walls like pornographic music. Jimin can’t stop sobbing, can't stop trembling, his body caught in the crossfire of too much everything.
“Please—I—I’m gonna—I can’t—” he chokes, one hand fisting in the sheets.
Taehyung holds him close, fucking him through it, whispering, “Let go, baby. You’re perfect. Let it all go.”
Jimin comes with a cry so high and sharp it rips through the room, cum splattering between them, his body shaking violently as his hole clamps down hard around Taehyung.
Taehyung groans, hips stuttering. “Shit—he’s squeezing me—fuck—so tight —”
Jungkook pulls out, panting, cock flushed and soaked. “Bro—your turn.”
He grabs Taehyung by the waist, flipping him in one rough move. Taehyung lands on his back, wide-eyed and gasping, but he doesn’t resist—he just spreads his legs, cum slick on his thighs, cock twitching.
Jungkook growls, shoving Taehyung’s knees up until they’re pinned by his shoulders.
“My fucking turn,” he breathes, voice wrecked and filthy.
Taehyung grins up at him, breathless and flushed, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. “Finally.”
Jungkook doesn’t waste a single second. He grabs his cock, lines it up, and drives in deep with one brutal, unforgiving thrust. Taehyung chokes on a moan, head tipping back, hands clawing the sheets like they’re his last anchor.
“ Fucking shit— ” Taehyung gasps, legs trembling in the air as Jungkook pins them down and immediately sets a vicious pace, hips snapping with brutal force.
“Kook—you’re gonna break me—fuck—don’t stop—”
Jungkook leans down, his chest plastered to Taehyung’s, sweat dripping off his jaw and smearing across skin. His voice is rough, pure gravel. “You feel insane , bro—been dying to fuck you like this all fucking night—”
Taehyung’s back arches into the rhythm, every thrust hitting his prostate dead-on, leaving him moaning like a slut beneath him. “Ah—fuck—right there —don’t stop— please —”
From beside them, Jimin rolls over with a groan, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “You guys are so fucking loud—my ears are ringing—”
“Shut up and enjoy the fucking show,” Jungkook pants, pounding into Taehyung with a sharp thrust that punches a cry out of him.
The sound is obscene. Skin slapping. Breath shattering. Taehyung’s eyes roll back as he claws at Jungkook’s back, nails dragging down with each brutal drive forward.
“F-Fuck—Kook—” he gasps, thighs shaking, and then it hits—his orgasm punches through him like a wave, cum painting both their stomachs in hot streaks as his voice breaks on Jungkook’s name. “ Kook—fuck— ”
Jungkook groans, slowing down only to pull out gently, panting like a beast. Taehyung trembles beneath him, fully wrecked, body twitching in the aftermath.
But Jungkook’s not done.
He turns, eyes blown wide and hungry, to where Jimin lies flushed and boneless, chest still heaving from earlier. Jungkook leans over him, lips ghosting his cheek.
“Tae got to fuck you..… I didn’t.” His voice drops, dark and desperate. “Let me, baby. Let me feel you too.”
Jimin blinks up at him, dazed. “Bro, I—”
Jungkook kisses him—slow, coaxing, full of need—and slides a lubed hand down to Jimin’s hole, fingers teasing at the stretched entrance, still slick from Taehyung. “Please, Jiminie… just once. Just let me in.”
Jimin whimpers, every bone in his body going soft under the heat of it. “…O-okay.”
Jungkook wastes no time, pushing in with a groan, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside. Jimin cries out, his head tipping back, hands fisting in the sheets. “Kook—fuck— oh my god— ”
“God, you’re so tight, ” Jungkook growls, forehead pressed to Jimin’s as he fucks him slow and steady, each drag of his cock hitting deep. “You feel fucking perfect. ”
Jimin can’t even speak anymore, only sobs pouring from his lips, fingers gripping Jungkook’s shoulders like he might fall apart without him. The soreness from earlier just amplifies everything—every stroke, every burn, every stretch.
From beside them, Taehyung props himself up, one hand wrapped around his cock, stroking lazily, voice thick and amused. “Fuck… he takes you so well, Jiminie. Look at you—falling apart for him.”
Jimin lets out a shattered moan, entire body twitching under Jungkook.
By the time Jungkook groans and spills deep inside, Jimin’s fucked-out and shaking, completely undone, eyes glassy and mouth open.
But Taehyung’s not finished yet either.
“C’mere, baby,” he whispers, pulling Jimin up by the waist and settling onto his lap. “One more. Just one more…”
Jimin groans, shaking his head weakly, but he doesn’t fight it. Taehyung guides Jimin cock inside with a hiss, sinking down with slow, practiced ease. “ Fuck— ”
Jungkook, not even close to done, kneels behind Taehyung and strokes himself back to full. He presses in with no warning, cock sliding into Taehyung’s used hole just beside Jimin’s dick with a wet, slick stretch.
Taehyung screams, head tipping back onto Jungkook’s shoulder as he’s filled again—stuffed full from both of them.
“Holy shit —” Jimin gasps, eyes wide as Taehyung begins to move, riding him while Jungkook drives into him from behind.
“Fuck—*bro—*he’s so tight—” Jimin babbles, hips twitching helplessly under Taehyung’s weight.
Jungkook wraps an arm around Taehyung’s waist, gripping him steady as he pounds into him. “You love this, don’t you? Getting split open on both of us. You’re shaking, baby.”
Taehyung can barely respond, his voice wrecked as he rides Jimin hard, every slam of Jungkook’s hips forcing him down deeper. “Yes—yes— don’t stop—please don’t fucking stop— ”
The bed screams in protest, every movement creaking under the brutal rhythm of three overstimulated bodies crashing into each other.
“ Fuck—fuck—fuck— ” Jimin cries, hands gripping Taehyung’s thighs as he bucks up into him. “I—I can’t—he’s—oh my god—too much—”
Jungkook leans in, breath hot in Taehyung’s ear. “Bounce on his cock, baby. Ride him while I fuck you. Let’s see how long you last.”
Taehyung sobs, his own cock bouncing against Jimin’s chest, leaking endlessly as his thighs quiver from the strain. “I—I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna— ”
“Come for us,” Jungkook growls. “Right fucking now.”
And then Taehyung comes again—violent, full-body, shaking apart in their arms, moaning so loud it echoes.
His body clamps down around Jungkook so tight it rips a groan from him, and Jimin follows—spurting up inside Taehyung with a cry, body jolting beneath him.
Jungkook curses under his breath, thrusts turning ragged, until he slams deep and stills, spilling inside Taehyung with a breathless, wrecked growl.
Silence falls, except for the sound of their panting and the soft creak of the bed finally settling.
They collapse in a tangled heap, sticky and trembling, hearts pounding out of sync. Jimin blinks at the ceiling. “We’re so, so going to hell.”
Taehyung hums sleepily against his chest. “Worth it.”
Jungkook grins into Taehyung’s back. “Bro… worth it twice. ”
Taehyung lets out a shuddering sigh and collapses forward, boneless, sprawling across Jimin’s chest like a wet rag. He mumbles into his collarbone, voice barely audible. “Told you… just heat transfer…”
Jimin huffs out a breathless, exhausted laugh, his chest still rising in quick little tremors. “You guys are… insane.”
Jungkook, still half-buried in Taehyung, lifts one limp hand and groans, blindly patting around for the blanket. “We’re fine. Totally straight. Just bros… helping bros.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung adds sleepily, eyes fluttering shut, lips barely moving against Jimin’s throat. “Teamwork.”
Jimin snorts, too gone to argue. “Yeah. Sure. Real hetero behavior.”
They lie there for a moment, tangled in a mess of limbs and wrecked bodies, a pile of ruined boys and fading adrenaline. The cold they’d once been whining about? Forgotten. Not a single one of them can feel anything but the heat radiating off the others.
Finally, Jungkook groans. “Okay. My dick is soft but everything else is still sticky.”
Taehyung makes a lazy noise of agreement. “Don’t care.You both split me open.”
“Bro, you’re leaking onto me. ” Jimin whines.
“Shut up. It’s good for your skin,” Taehyung mutters into his neck.
Jungkook rolls his eyes and, with the last of his strength, reaches over to yank open Taehyung’s nightstand. He grabs the wet wipes— thank god they exist—and flops back down, ripping one free. “Alright. Everyone lift something. Or stay nasty forever.”
He wipes Taehyung first, gently, dragging the cloth over his inner thighs, down the mess between his cheeks, up over his belly and cock. It’s oddly intimate—his touch is soft, slow. Almost sweet.
Then he does Jimin, who yelps when the cold cloth hits his overstimulated skin. “ A warning next time, please— ”
“Shut up, princess. I just cleaned your hole like a gentleman.”
“Ugh, never say that sentence again.”
Once they’re all wiped down and Jungkook’s done pretending he didn’t just give the most sensual post-threesome wipe down in history, they collapse again, this time under a now-clean comforter. Taehyung’s half across Jimin. Jungkook curls into his back. It’s warm. Quiet. Weirdly peaceful.
After a few beats of silence, Jungkook murmurs, “So… we kissed.”
Taehyung doesn’t move. “So?”
“I mean— we kissed.”
Taehyung hums. “No homo.”
Jimin lets out a disbelieving snort. “Baby, you got double penetrated, I’m not sure if you have the right to say that even.
“Bro,” Jungkook mutters, voice muffled into Taehyung’s hair. “Don’t ruin the vibe.”
“Whatever.” Jimin sighs, turning his head just enough to meet Taehyung’s gaze. “Your fault anyway.”
Taehyung smirks. “You’re welcome.”
He leans in and presses a kiss to Jimin’s jaw. Soft. Real. Nothing frantic or filthy this time—just heat and breath.
Then he turns his head lazily and brushes a kiss to Jungkook’s cheek too, lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.
Jungkook stills for a second. Then leans in and kisses him back.
The three of them just lie there, quiet, pressed together in a tangle of wrecked limbs and shared body heat.
No one says anything else. There’s nothing to say.
Eventually, Jimin mumbles, “We’re never telling anyone about this.”
“Agreed,” Jungkook says.
Taehyung snickers into his neck. “No one would believe us anyway.”
And just like that, they drift off—skin clean, hearts pounding slower now, sticky memories sealed between shared warmth and secret kisses.
And of course, no homo bro.