Lyric was still catching her breath, her lips tingling from Jin’s release, when Hobi pulled her back against his chest, his hands roaming her bare skin possessively. He nipped at her earlobe, his voice a low rumble. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmured, his fingers brushing her sides, keeping her buzzing with heat. His eyes flicked to Jimin, who was still on his knees, staring at her with a hunger that hadn’t dimmed despite his earlier unraveling. “Think Jimin’s earned a reward, don’t you?”
Lyric’s gaze shifted to Jimin, his flushed cheeks and dark eyes locked on her, his cock still straining against his ruined pants. She smirked, her voice breathy but teasing. “Yeah, Hobi. He’s been so patient.”
Jimin’s breath hitched, his hands flexing on his thighs as he waited, every muscle in his body taut with anticipation. Hobi chuckled, the sound dark and approving, and gave Lyric a gentle nudge forward. “Go on, then,” he said, his tone a velvet command. “Let him have you.”
She slid off Hobi’s lap, crawling toward Jimin on her hands and knees, her body still thrumming from everything they’d already done. Jimin met her halfway, his hands shooting out to grab her hips, pulling her close with a desperation that made her gasp. “Lyric—” he rasped, voice thick with need, his fingers digging into her skin.
“Take her,” Hobi said from behind, his voice steady but laced with heat as he leaned back, watching. “Fuck her good, Jimin-ah. Show me what you’ve been dying to do.”
Jimin didn’t need to be told twice. He fumbled with his pants, shoving them down just enough to free himself, his cock hard and leaking as he lined up with her. Lyric braced her hands on his shoulders, her breath catching as he pressed against her entrance, slick and ready from everything before. With one sharp thrust, he buried himself inside her, deep and sudden, pulling a cry from her throat.
“Fuck—” Jimin groaned, his head falling forward as he bottomed out, his hands gripping her hips like she might slip away. “You feel—so fucking good—”
Lyric moaned, her nails biting into his shoulders as he started moving, his thrusts fast and rough, all that pent-up desperation pouring out. He wasn’t gentle—couldn’t be, not after watching her with Hobi and Jin, not after tasting them both. His hips snapped against hers, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room, driving her higher with every stroke.
Hobi’s eyes burned as he watched, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily stroking himself back to full hardness. “Harder,” he ordered, voice cutting through Jimin’s groans. “She can take it. Make her scream.”
Jimin growled low in his throat, obeying instantly, his thrusts turning brutal, his hands yanking her down to meet him. Lyric’s head tipped back, a string of broken moans spilling out as he hit deep, relentless, her body shaking under the force. “Jimin—fuck—yes—” she gasped, her voice cracking with every slam of his hips.
“That’s it,” Hobi purred, his tone dark and pleased. “Look at her, Jimin. Falling apart on your cock. You wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”
Jimin’s eyes were wild, his breath ragged as he nodded, too far gone to form words. “So bad,” he managed, voice wrecked, his thrusts stuttering as he felt her clench around him, tight and hot. “Noona —fuck—I’m—”
“Not yet,” Hobi snapped, his voice sharp now. “Make her cum first. Earn it.”
Jimin whimpered, slowing just enough to shift his angle, one hand sliding between them to rub messy circles over her clit. Lyric’s whole body jolted, a scream tearing from her throat as the added pressure sent her spiraling. “Jimin—oh god—right there—” she sobbed, her legs trembling, her nails raking down his arms.
He kept going, his fingers relentless, his cock driving into her with renewed focus, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought to please her. It didn’t take long—Lyric shattered around him, her body locking tight as she came, a flood of heat soaking him, her cries echoing in the room.
Jimin groaned, his control snapping as her orgasm pulled him under. He thrust once, twice more, then buried himself deep, spilling inside her with a choked moan, his hips jerking as he rode it out. They collapsed together, panting, Lyric’s arms draped over his shoulders, his face buried in her neck.
Hobi laughed softly, dark and satisfied, rising to his feet to loom over them. “Good boy,” he murmured, ruffling Jimin’s hair before pulling Lyric back into his arms, her body limp and trembling against him. “You fucked her well. Proud of you.” His eyes glinted as he kissed her forehead, then glanced at Jin, still recovering. “Rest up. We’re not done.”
The restaurant simmered with low light and anticipation, the private room lined with dark wood and plush seats. The trio was escorted inside, silent anticipation curling around them like smoke.
Destiny slid into the center seat, legs crossing slow, red fabric riding high. Lyric claimed the right, smoothing her dress with a smirk, gold catching the glow of candlelight. Lauren took the left, back straight, expression unreadable—ready for whatever might walk through that door.
They had barely exhaled when the door slid open.
Security swept in first, locking the room down in a tight perimeter. Then—all seven of them.
BTS.
They didn’t just enter. They commanded the space.
Namjoon led, his black button-down unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up like he had nothing to prove. Hobi followed, silk shirt catching the light, orange flecks flickering like embers. Jin moved easy, casual, the warmth of a king who knew his presence alone was enough. Yoongi was all quiet dominance, layered in muted tones, a wolf pretending to be tame. Jimin, sharp in a fitted jacket, his smirk slow-burning mischief. Taehyung, loose and fluid in a flowy top, scanning the room with that lazy, knowing gaze. Jungkook—the youngest, the most unreadable—hood pulled low, edge intact even in a private setting.
The air seized.
Destiny’s pulse tripped. Lyric stilled, lips parting slightly. Even Lauren, who prided herself on being unshakable, felt the jolt of pure presence slam through her chest.
But they did not fold.
Namjoon’s gaze locked onto Destiny’s as he took the seat directly across from her, a flicker of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You made it.”
She leaned back, glass of soju already in hand, voice low, teasing. “RM94z. Very subtle.”
Hobi slid in beside Lyric, his gaze dipping—unapologetic, hungry—to the golden stretch of thigh framed perfectly by her dress. He didn’t even pretend to be subtle.
“Tumbler girl,” he greeted, smirking. “I used them already. Great quality.”
Lyric leaned in just enough, knee grazing his under the table. Smooth as silk. “Only the best for my bias.”
Lauren’s gaze flicked across the table, scanning the lineup before her, calculating. Jin sat next to Namjoon, Yoongi across from her, Jimin and Taehyung flanking Hobi, Jungkook perched at the end, watching everything like a predator assessing its prey.
Lauren took her time before speaking. Then—dry, deliberate—
“I’m Lauren. The one who makes bodies vanish. Play nice.”
Jin’s smirk widened, fingers toying with the rim of his glass. “No vanishing needed. We’re good.”
Yoongi’s lips twitched. He studied her like she was a puzzle. “You look like you’d follow through.”
Lauren’s smile was slow, razor-sharp. “Every. Time.”
The tension in the air was thick enough to drown in.
Then the food landed—grilled meats, banchan, soju—but no one gave a damn about eating. The real hunger was across the table, flickering in glances, unspoken, undeniable.
Destiny let her eyes drag over Namjoon, her red dress a deliberate dare as she took a slow sip. “So, Joon, what’s this? Curiosity still burning?”
He leaned in, forearms resting on the table, voice steady, deep. “More than ever.”
Lyric’s thigh pressed against Hobi’s, her movements no longer accidental. Gold caught the light as she tilted her chin up. “You were amazing tonight.”
Hobi exhaled, voice dipping just for her. “So were you.” His eyes dragged down, heat flaring—her thighs were a vice, wrapping around his thoughts, pulling him under.
Across the table, Taehyung’s gaze slid over Destiny, low and slow. “You were unreal out there.” His lips parted slightly, a smirk forming. “Tiny, but… damn.”
Jungkook, whose silence had been absolute, suddenly leaned forward, eyes flicking down to Destiny’s frame with open appreciation. “Come here,” he murmured, not a request.
Destiny raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
He reached for her, hands grazing the soft curve of her waist as he bent down, slipped off her heels, and measured her height against his. His voice dropped, all gravel and promise.
“Perfect.”
Destiny swallowed. Fuck.
Jimin had been watching Lyric the whole time, gaze too intent, too sharp. His fingers traced the condensation on his glass before he murmured, almost like an afterthought, “Gold suits you.” Then, his eyes dragged over her skin. “And your skin is so beautiful.” His tongue flicked over his lips—slow, calculated. Like he was parched, and she was water.
Destiny tilted her head at Namjoon, watching the way he studied her, the way his fingers curled against the wood of the table. “So, tell me… is this something y’all do all the time?”
Namjoon didn’t blink. Didn’t hesitate.
“Never.”
Lauren poured soju, sipping like she was merely an observer to the madness unraveling in front of her. She smirked. “Y'all laying it on thick, don't make me have to work tonight.”
Yoongi raised his glass, voice low, knowing. “No clean up required.” He smirked. “Yet.”
The table thrummed.
Tension coiled, heat simmering, a quiet storm gathering force. Destiny and Lyric played it cool, shock buried beneath teasing and control.
The morning light slipped through the blackout curtains of Hobi’s apartment, casting faint streaks across the tangled sheets of his king-sized bed. The air was thick—laden with sweat, sex, and Lyric’s spiced perfume that clung to his skin like a brand. Hobi lay sprawled on his back, one arm draped over his eyes, chest heaving slow and uneven, still caught in the afterglow of last night. Hobi had taken her—hotel to car to here, relentless and raw—and now he was spent, body humming, mind flickering toward the second concert tonight.
Lyric stirred beside him, her warm curves pressed against his side, bare thighs tangled with his under the sheets. Her silk slip—half-shredded by Jack’s hands—slid off one shoulder, dark curls spilling wild over the pillow. She propped herself on an elbow, smirking as she traced a finger down his chest, over the faint red scratches she’d left. He was a vision—golden skin flushed, abs taut, sweatpants long gone, leaving him bare and breathtaking. His cock rested against his thigh, thick and half-hard, a testament to her power over him.
“Morning, sunshine,” she purred, voice husky from last night’s cries, her finger circling lower, teasing the dip above his hip. “Or still Jack?”
Hobi groaned, cracking an eye open beneath his arm. “Fuck, Sam,” he rasped, voice rough with sleep and lust. “You’re gonna finish me off before I even get to tonight’s stage.”
She laughed, low and wicked, swinging a leg over to straddle his hips. The sheets fell away, baring her—full curves, smooth skin, thighs that could ruin him bracketing his waist. His hands settled on her hips, fingers flexing into her flesh as she felt him harden beneath her, his cock nudging her core. Her smirk deepened.
“Good,” she murmured, leaning down, lips hovering over his, breath hot. “’Cause I’m about to wish you luck for tonight my way.”
Hobi’s eyes darkened, lust flickering as he tilted his head, lips brushing hers in a tease. “Oh yeah? What’s that gonna be?”
She didn’t answer with words. Her hands splayed over his chest, nails grazing as she dragged them down—slow, reverent, worshipping every muscle. Hobi’s breath hitched, grip tightening as she slid lower, lips trailing after her hands. She kissed his collarbone, sucking softly, tasting salt, then moved down—over his pecs, his sternum, tongue flicking the lines of his abs.
“Fuck,” he muttered, head tipping back, eyes half-lidded as he watched. “Sam—”
“Shh,” she whispered against his skin, a velvet command. “Let me take care of you.”
Her hands parted his thighs, settling between them, breath ghosting over his cock. He was fully hard now, thick and leaking, and she licked her lips, hunger in her smirk. “You’re gonna own that stage tonight,” she murmured, hands wrapping around him—one at the base, the other stroking slow and firm, twisting just right. “And I’m gonna help you feel every bit of that power now.”
Hobi groaned, hips twitching into her grip. “Ric—don’t tease.”
“Who’s teasing?” She leaned in, tongue lapping at the tip, tasting him—salty, raw, pure Hobi. His breath shuddered, hands fisting the sheets as she worshipped him—slow licks up the underside, circling the head, savoring every twitch, every sound. “This is me ensuring you’ll kill it tonight.”
She took him into her mouth, deep and wet, lips stretching, throat relaxing as she sank down. Hobi’s moan was broken, head slamming back, one hand flying to her hair, tangling but not pushing—just anchoring. “Fuck, Lyric—yes—”
She hummed, the vibration ripping another groan from him as she worked—slow at first, lips and tongue in sync, sucking hard then easing off, letting him feel her devotion. Her hands moved—one pumping what she couldn’t take, the other cupping his balls, rolling gently until his thighs tensed.
“You’ll be a fucking god out there tonight,” she murmured, pulling off to speak, breath hot against his slick length. “You're phenomenal.” She dove back, taking him deeper, throat tightening as she swallowed, eyes flicking up to his.
Hobi was wrecked—chest heaving, abs clenching, eyes locked on her with awe and desperation. “Ric—shit—I’m—” His voice cracked, hips jerking, chasing her mouth, and she let him, hollowing her cheeks, sucking harder, tongue swirling relentless circles.
She pulled off again, hand replacing her mouth—stroking fast, slick with spit and precum. “You’ll own Seoul tonight,” she rasped, lips brushing the tip. “Every scream, every cheer—they’ll all be yours. You deserve the world” She sank back down, taking him to the hilt, nose brushing his pelvis as she swallowed again.
That broke him.
Hobi’s groan turned into a guttural shout, hand tightening in her hair as his hips bucked, release hitting hard—hot, thick, spilling down her throat. Lyric took it all, swallowing every pulse, hands steadying his trembling thighs as he rode it out, body shaking beneath her.
When he stilled, panting and spent, she pulled off slow, licking her lips with a smirk. She crawled up, straddling him, brushing a soft kiss to his mouth—letting him taste himself. “Good luck my way,” she whispered, voice hoarse but smug. “If you fuck up that stage, half as good as you fucked me, I worry for ARMYs sanity.”
Hobi laughed, breathless, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he managed, voice rough. “Fucking unreal.”
She slid off him, standing with a stretch that bared every curve. “Shower,” she said, glancing back with a grin. “Come on—you’ll need it.”
Hobi groaned but followed, legs shaky as he trailed her to the bathroom. The space was sleek—black tile, glass shower, steam fogging the air as she turned the water hot. He stepped in, letting the spray hit his back, head tipping as the heat sank in. Lyric joined him, her touch shifting—gentle now, tender in a way that softened the edges of Jack’s chaos.
She grabbed a cloth, soaping it up, and started at his shoulders—slow, careful strokes washing away sweat and tension. Her hands moved over his chest, tracing the marks she’d left, then down his arms, massaging soap into his skin with a care that made his breath catch. Neither spoke—just water, her steady breathing, his soft exhales as she worked.
She knelt, washing his thighs, his calves, fingers lingering, gentle but firm, cleaning every inch like a quiet ritual. When she reached his cock—soft now, still sensitive—she was delicate, cupping him with the warm cloth, wiping away their morning with a softness that felt like worship anew. Hobi’s hand rested on her shoulder, eyes half-closed, letting her tend to him.
“Turn,” she murmured, standing. He did, and she washed his back—long, soothing strokes down his spine, thumbs pressing into the knots at his shoulders. He sighed, melting under her touch, last night’s fire fading into calm.
She shut off the water, grabbing a towel and patting him dry—chest, arms, legs, slow and deliberate. Back in the bedroom, she nudged him onto the bed, face-down. “Lie still,” she said, voice soft but firm, snagging lotion from his nightstand.
Hobi obeyed, too blissed to argue. She straddled his lower back, hands slick as she started at his shoulders—kneading, rubbing, working out tension with steady pressure. Her fingers dug into his traps, his lats, smoothing down his spine, tracing his dancer’s frame with a tenderness that made him hum.
“You’ll kill it out there tonight,” she murmured, thumbs circling his lower back, easing the ache. “Every move, every applause—they’ll all belong to you. They came for you.”
Her hands slid to his arms, massaging his biceps, his forearms, then back up, fingers threading into his damp hair, rubbing his scalp until he groaned, soft and content. She leaned down, kissing the nape of his neck. “You’ll own Seoul tonight,” she whispered. “Every scream’s gonna be for you.”
Hobi turned his head, catching her eye with a lazy grin. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbled, voice thick. “Might not let you go after this.”
She smirked, sliding off to lie beside him, hand resting on his chest. “Good. ‘Cause I can't wait to watch you shine”
He chuckled, pulling her closer, her warmth sinking into him. They’d head to Jungkook’s later—4 PM for the pre-game—but for now, he let her hands, her care, her quiet worship fuel him. Tonight’s stage was his to burn, and Lyric had just lit the match.
Jimin froze, his breath coming out in shallow pants, his thighs tense where he sat, his hands twitching on his lap like he didn’t know whether to fist them or reach for her.
Lyric could feel the tension thickening in the air, pressing down on her like a weight, making her nerves buzz with anticipation.
Hoseok chuckled, slow and mocking, his fingers still lazily stroking inside her, his other hand gripping her jaw, keeping her head tilted to the side so she could watch Jimin and Jin fall apart.
“Come on, Jimin-ah,” he purred, eyes lidded, “I know you can do better than that.”
Jin exhaled sharply, shifting in his seat like he was trying to will himself to stay still, but the way his eyes were locked onto the place where Hoseok’s fingers disappeared inside Lyric? The way his breath hitched every time she whimpered?
He was already gone.
Jimin, though—Jimin was fighting it. His hands clenched into the couch, his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but his pride—his damn pride—was holding him back.
Hoseok hummed, his smirk deepening.
“What’s wrong?” he taunted, curling his fingers just right—Lyric’s cry echoed in the dimly lit room, her body arching into his touch as he stretched her, deliberately slow, deliberately deep, deliberately meant to break them. “Scared to admit you want what’s already mine?”
Jimin growled, his jaw tightening. “Fuck you.”
Hoseok laughed.
“Not yet, sweetheart.”
And then—then—he withdrew his fingers completely, dragging them over her thighs, up her stomach, until they rested against her lips.
Lyric whimpered, her breath hot against his fingertips.
“Open,” Hoseok murmured, “clean me up, baby.”
She obeyed without hesitation, lips parting, tongue flicking out to taste herself on him, sucking his fingers into her mouth.
Jin groaned.
Jimin’s hands twitched.
Hoseok’s eyes darkened with satisfaction.
“See?” he murmured, pulling his fingers from her mouth, bringing them to Jimin’s lips instead. “She’s so good for me.”
Jimin sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze flicking from Hoseok to Lyric—then to Jin, who looked like he was one second away from snapping.
Hoseok leaned in, voice low, teasing. “You want her? Show me.”
Jimin hesitated—for only a moment.
Then he leaned forward.
And licked Hoseok’s fingers clean.
Lyric gasped.
Jin choked.
Hoseok grinned like the devil himself.
“Good boy,” he whispered. “Now tell me exactly what you’re going to do to her.”
Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut for a split second as he pulled back from Hobi’s fingers, the taste of Lyric still lingering on his tongue. His chest heaved, his pride in tatters, but the hunger in his gaze burned brighter than ever. He licked his lips, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every last trace of her.
Hobi’s grin widened, all teeth and danger, his hand sliding possessively to Lyric’s hip, anchoring her against him. “Well?” he pressed, voice dripping with mockery. “I’m waiting, Jimin-ah. Tell me what you’re gonna do to my girl.”
Lyric’s breath hitched, her body thrumming with heat as she watched Jimin wrestle with himself. She could feel Hobi’s chest rumbling with a low laugh behind her, his fingers flexing against her skin, teasingly close to where she still ached for him.
Jimin’s voice came out rough, jagged, like it was being dragged out of him. “I’d—” He swallowed hard, his eyes locking onto hers, then dipping lower, tracing the curve of her body. “I’d pin her down. Taste every inch of her. Make her scream ‘til she can’t fucking think straight.”
Lyric’s pulse spiked, a soft whimper slipping past her lips before she could stop it. Hobi’s grip tightened, his nails biting into her hip just enough to make her squirm.
“Hmm,” Hobi mused, tilting his head as if considering it. “Not bad.” His eyes flicked to Jin, who was practically vibrating in his seat, his knuckles white where he gripped the armrest. “What about you, Hyung? What’s your plan for her?”
Jin’s throat worked as he swallowed, his gaze heavy and unblinking. “I’d take my time,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked. “Spread her out. Kiss her everywhere she’s begging for it—fuck, I’d make her beg for me.”
Lyric’s head lolled back against Hobi’s shoulder, her skin prickling under the weight of their words, the air growing thicker, hotter, with every syllable. She could feel Hobi’s smirk against her neck as he hummed in approval.
“Beg, huh?” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. “You hear that, baby? They think they can make you beg better than I can.” He shifted, rolling his hips against her just enough to make her gasp, her hands clutching at his thighs for balance. “Should we test that?”
Jimin’s eyes narrowed, a spark of defiance flaring as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “Let me prove it, Hobi. I’ll have her crying my name in ten seconds flat.”
Jin let out a shaky laugh, though it sounded more like a groan. “You wish. I’d have her shaking before you even got started.”
Hobi laughed outright, the sound dark and rich, vibrating through Lyric’s chest. “Big words,” he taunted, his hand sliding up her stomach, brushing the underside of her breast just to watch them squirm. “But I don’t share easy.” He paused, letting the tension stretch taut, then added, “Unless she wants it.”
Lyric’s breath caught, her mind spinning as all three pairs of eyes turned to her—Hobi’s teasing, Jimin’s desperate, Jin’s ravenous. She licked her lips, feeling the power shift, just for a moment, into her hands.
“Maybe,” she said, voice breathy but steady, a smirk tugging at her mouth as she met Hobi’s gaze. “If they’re good enough.”
Hobi’s eyes flashed with something wicked, thrilled. “Oh, noona ,” he purred, nipping at her jaw. “You’re gonna make this fun.” He looked back at Jimin and Jin, his grin all challenge. “You heard her. Get on your knees and prove it.”
Jimin didn’t hesitate this time, sliding off the couch in one fluid motion, his hands hovering an inch from her legs like he was waiting for permission. Jin followed, slower but no less determined, his eyes locked on hers as he sank down beside Jimin.
Hobi leaned back, pulling Lyric tighter against him, his voice a velvet command. “Show me how bad you want her. Make it good.”
Lyric’s breath stuttered as Jimin’s hands finally settled on her calves, his fingers warm and trembling just slightly as they slid upward, tracing the curve of her legs with a reverence that made her skin tingle. Jin was right there beside him, his touch bolder, his palm pressing flat against her thigh, kneading the flesh like he couldn’t help himself.
Hobi’s chest rumbled against her back, a low hum of amusement as he watched them, his grip on her hips loosening just enough to let her feel the full weight of their attention. “Look at them,” he murmured into her ear, his voice a tease wrapped in heat. “Already falling apart, and they’ve barely started.”
Jimin’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, dark and molten, his lips parting as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin. “Lyric,” he whispered, voice rough with need, “let me—”
He didn’t finish. His mouth pressed to the inside of her knee, soft at first, then harder, a slow drag of lips and tongue that sent a jolt straight through her. She gasped, her fingers digging into Hobi’s thighs, anchoring herself as her body arched toward the sensation.
Jin growled low in his throat, not about to be outdone. His hand slid higher, pushing her shorts up as he leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “You’re so fucking soft,” he muttered, almost to himself, before sucking a mark into her skin, sharp and deliberate.
Lyric’s head tipped back, a broken moan slipping out as the dual assault lit her nerves on fire. Hobi’s laugh was dark, approving, vibrating through her as his hands slid up her sides, possessive and steadying all at once. “That’s it,” he purred, his voice a low rumble against her ear. “Look at how desperate they are for you, baby. You’ve got them on their knees already.”
Lyric’s pulse raced, her body caught between the heat of Hobi’s words and the relentless attention from Jimin and Jin. Jimin’s mouth moved higher, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate line up her thigh, his hands gripping her legs like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go. Every flick of his tongue sent a shiver ripping through her, her breath coming in ragged bursts.
Jin wasn’t far behind, his lips pressing harder now, teeth grazing her skin as he worked another mark into her thigh, his fingers digging in just enough to make her squirm. “Fuck, Lyric,” he groaned, voice muffled against her, “you taste too good.” His hand slid up, brushing dangerously close to where she was still aching from Hobi’s earlier teasing, and she couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped.
Hobi’s grip tightened, one hand slipping under her shirt to splay across her stomach, keeping her pinned against him. “You like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “Having them worship you like this. Tell me how it feels.”
Lyric’s mind was a haze, words slipping through her fingers like smoke, but she managed a shaky, “So good, Hobi—fuck, it’s too much.” Her hips twitched, caught between pushing into Jimin and Jin’s touches and pressing back against Hobi’s solid frame.
“Too much?” Hobi chuckled, his tone mockingly sweet as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You can take it, baby. You’re mine—you’ll take whatever I let them give you.” His eyes flicked down to Jimin and Jin, sharp and commanding. “Don’t stop. Make her feel it.”
Jimin groaned against her skin, his mouth moving higher, bolder, his hands sliding under her thighs to lift them slightly, giving himself better access. His lips hovered just shy of where she needed him most, teasing, waiting, his breath hot and torturous.
Jin took the cue, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts, tugging them down just enough to expose more of her to his hungry gaze. “Hobi,” he rasped, glancing up at him with a mix of plea and defiance, “let me taste her. Please.”
Hobi’s smirk was pure sin, his hand sliding up to cup Lyric’s jaw, his thumb brushing her lips. “What do you think, jaguya? Should I let Jin have a taste? Or should I make him beg harder?”
Lyric’s breath hitched, her body trembling as she looked down at Jin’s pleading eyes, Jimin’s desperate grip, and then back to Hobi’s wicked grin. “Make him beg,” she whispered, a thrill shooting through her at the power Hobi dangled in front of her.
Hobi’s laugh was sharp, delighted. “You heard her, hyung. Beg.”
Jin’s eyes flared with something wild, a mix of frustration and raw need, his hands still gripping the edge of Lyric’s shorts like they were his lifeline. He exhaled hard, his breath shaky, and leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing her thigh as he fought to find the words.
“Please, noona,” he started, voice rough and low, cracking at the edges. “I need to taste you. I’ll do anything—fuck, I’ll make you feel so good, I swear. Just let me.” His gaze flicked up to Hobi, a silent acknowledgment of who really held the reins, then back to her, desperate and unguarded. “Please.”
Jimin paused, his lips still pressed to her skin, glancing sideways at Jin with a flicker of competitive heat before he doubled down, sucking a mark into her inner thigh that made her gasp. His hands tightened, pulling her legs apart just a little more, his own silent plea written in every touch.
Hobi’s thumb traced lazy circles over Lyric’s lips as he watched, his grin widening at Jin’s submission. “Not bad,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement. “But I think you can do better, Jin. Really convince her.”
Lyric’s chest heaved, her body buzzing from the tension coiling tighter and tighter. Jin’s begging, Jimin’s relentless teasing, Hobi’s control—it was overwhelming, intoxicating, and she couldn’t stop the soft moan that slipped out as she shifted against Hobi’s lap.
Jin groaned, the sound almost pained, and dropped lower, his lips brushing the bare skin just above her shorts as he spoke again. “Lyric, I’d fucking worship you,” he rasped, his voice trembling with want. “I’d take my time, make you shake, make you come apart until you can’t even remember your name. I need it—need you. Please, let me.”
Hobi hummed, clearly pleased, his hand sliding down from her jaw to rest lightly around her throat, a gentle claim. “That’s more like it,” he murmured, tilting her head back to kiss the corner of her mouth. “What do you say, jagiya? Think he’s earned it?”
Lyric’s eyes fluttered, her mind spinning as she looked down at Jin’s pleading face, his breath hot against her skin, and Jimin’s dark gaze, silently daring her to say yes so he could follow. Her lips curled into a shaky smirk, her voice breathy but firm. “Yeah, Hobi. Let him.”
Hobi’s chuckle was pure satisfaction, his fingers tightening briefly around her throat before he released her, leaning back to watch the show. “Go on, hyung,” he said, voice a velvet command. “Show her what you’ve got. Jimin, don’t you dare stop.”
Jin didn’t hesitate, his hands tugging her shorts down further, his mouth descending with a hunger that made her cry out the second his tongue met her skin. He was deliberate, thorough, every flick and press of his lips sending sparks shooting up her spine. Jimin growled low in his throat, matching Jin’s pace, his mouth working her thigh with bruising intensity, his fingers digging into her like he was staking his own claim.
Lyric’s hands flew to Hobi’s arms, clutching him as her body arched, the combined assault tipping her dangerously close to the edge. “Hobi—” she gasped, her voice breaking, her nails biting into his skin.
Hobi leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “That’s it, noona. Let them make you feel good. I’ve got you.” His hands slid under her shirt again, palming her breasts, teasing her just enough to push her higher.
She was unraveling, fast, and Hobi’s dark, approving laugh was the last thing she heard before the world blurred into nothing but their hands and mouths.
Lyric’s thighs trembled as Jin and Jimin devoured her, their mouths working in chaotic tandem, sloppy and unrestrained. Jin’s tongue flattened against her, dragging slow and messy, while Jimin’s lips sucked hard at her clit, his fingers gripping her thighs to keep her spread open. Wet sounds filled the air, their groans mingling with her breathless moans, spit and heat smearing across her skin as they lost themselves in her.
Jin pulled back just enough to let his tongue flick against Jimin’s, the two of them tangling messily over her, tasting her and each other in a frantic haze. Lyric’s hips bucked, her hands fisting in Hobi’s shirt as she tried to anchor herself, her body shuddering under the onslaught. “Fuck—Hobi—” she whimpered, voice wrecked, barely holding on.
Jimin growled against her, his tongue plunging deeper, sloppy and relentless, while Jin licked up the mess they were making, his lips brushing Jimin’s in the chaos. It was filthy, overwhelming, and Lyric’s head lolled back against Hobi’s shoulder, her cries growing sharper, louder.
Hobi watched, eyes dark and hooded, his grip on her tightening as her body started to shake. “That’s enough,” he said suddenly, voice cutting through the haze like a blade. His tone was firm, final, and Jin and Jimin froze, panting, their mouths glistening as they pulled back, eyes wild with hunger.
Lyric whined at the loss, her body still thrumming, but Hobi was already moving. “You did good,” he murmured to her, kissing her neck briefly before shifting her in his lap. “But they need to see how it’s really done.” His hands hooked under her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until she was positioned reverse cowgirl, her back pressed to his chest, legs spread wide over his.
He reached down, undoing his pants with a quick, practiced motion, and freed his cock, hard and thick, brushing against her as he adjusted her above him. “Watch,” he said, voice low and commanding, his eyes locking onto Jin and Jimin, who were still on their knees, chests heaving, staring up at them.
Hobi guided himself to her entrance, slick and ready from Jin and Jimin’s work, and sank into her with a slow, deliberate thrust. Lyric moaned, loud and unrestrained, her hands grabbing at his thighs as he filled her, stretching her in a way that made her tremble. He set a rhythm, deep and steady, his hips rolling up into her, letting her feel every inch.
“Like this,” he said, his voice rough now, a growl edging into it as he fucked her. “This is how she likes it. Hard. Deep. Look at her.”
Jin and Jimin didn’t just watch—they moved. Jin leaned in first, his tongue flicking out to lap at where Hobi’s cock slid into her, tasting them both, greedy and unashamed. Jimin followed, his lips brushing Hobi’s base, sucking messily at the slick skin, his hands braced on Lyric’s thighs to keep her steady.
Lyric’s head spun, her moans turning into broken sobs as the sensation doubled—no, tripled. Hobi’s cock driving into her, Jin’s tongue swirling around her clit and Hobi’s length, Jimin’s mouth sucking at him, at her, sloppy and desperate. It was too much, too good, and she couldn’t stop the way her body clenched, her nails digging into Hobi’s legs.
“Fuck—Hobi—” she gasped, her voice barely coherent, her hips grinding down to meet his thrusts, chasing the edge she was hurtling toward.
Hobi groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he fucked her harder, the wet sounds of Jin and Jimin’s mouths only spurring him on. “That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his breath hot against her ear. “Let them taste how good I make you feel. Let them fucking choke on it.”
Jin moaned against her, his tongue plunging deeper, licking at Hobi’s cock as it moved, while Jimin sucked harder, his lips smeared with spit and her, his eyes locked on Hobi’s like he was daring him to keep going. They were a mess, all three of them worshipping her, worshipping him, and Lyric was gone—shattering around Hobi with a scream that echoed in the room, her body shaking uncontrollably as she came.
Hobi didn’t stop, his thrusts relentless, drawing it out as Jin and Jimin kept going, licking and sucking through her high, messy and feral, until she was a trembling, whimpering wreck in his arms.
Hobi’s grip on Lyric’s hips loosened as her tremors finally slowed, her body still quivering from the intensity of her release. With a low grunt, he lifted her just enough to slide his cock out of her, slick and glistening from her, leaving her gasping at the sudden emptiness. He held her steady against his chest, her legs still spread wide, and smirked down at Jimin and Jin, who were panting, flushed, and hungry-eyed below them.
“Jimin,” Hobi said, voice rough and commanding, his cock twitching as it hovered in the air. “Clean me up.”
Jimin didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, his hands bracing on Hobi’s thighs as his mouth closed around the tip, sucking hard, his tongue swirling to lap up every trace of Lyric. Hobi groaned, his head tipping back slightly, the wet heat of Jimin’s mouth pulling a shudder through him. Jimin worked him eagerly, messy and thorough, his lips sliding lower, taking more, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked.
Lyric watched, her breath still jagged, a fresh wave of heat pooling in her gut at the sight. She shifted in Hobi’s lap, her hands reaching down to tangle in Jimin’s hair, fingers curling tight. “Good boy,” she murmured, voice husky and thick with praise. “Look at you, so fucking eager for Hobi’s cock.”
Jimin moaned around him, the sound muffled but desperate, his eyes fluttering shut as her words sank in. Lyric tightened her grip, pushing his head down further, forcing him to take Hobi deeper until his nose brushed Hobi’s skin. “That’s it,” she cooed, her tone dripping with approval. “Suck him like you mean it, Jimin. Make him feel good.”
Hobi’s breath hitched, his hands flexing on Lyric’s hips as Jimin obeyed, his throat working around him, sloppy and relentless. Jimin’s hands trembled where they gripped Hobi’s thighs, his own cock straining against his pants, untouched but throbbing. The praise, the pressure of Lyric’s hands, the taste of Hobi and her combined—it was unraveling him fast.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Lyric purred, shoving him down harder, her nails scraping his scalp as she guided him. “So good for us, Jimin. Taking Hobi so well—look at how hard you’re making him.”
Jimin whimpered, the sound vibrating through Hobi, and his hips twitched involuntarily, his body tensing as he teetered on the edge. Lyric’s control, her filthy praise, the way she manhandled him—it was too much. His eyes squeezed shut, and with one last deep suck, his tongue pressing flat against Hobi’s length, he came untouched, a choked moan spilling out around Hobi as his body shook, staining his pants.
Hobi groaned loud, the sight of Jimin falling apart tipping him closer, his cock twitching in Jimin’s mouth. “Shit—good job, baby,” he rasped, one hand sliding up Lyric’s side as he caught his breath, still rock-hard and pulsing. He glanced down at Jimin, now slumped and panting, lips swollen and wet, then over at Jin, who was staring, wide-eyed and wrecked, his own hand hovering near his lap.
Lyric laughed softly, breathless and delighted, releasing Jimin’s hair to stroke it gently instead. “So fucking pretty when you cum like that,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. She looked back at Hobi, eyes glinting. “Think he earned a break, Hobi?”
Hobi smirked, his chest still heaving. “Yeah. But Jin’s still waiting his turn.” His gaze shifted to Jin, dark and challenging. “You ready hyung?”
Jin’s eyes flickered with a mix of nerves and raw hunger, his chest rising and falling fast as he watched Jimin slump back, dazed and spent, a wet spot darkening his pants. Lyric’s praise still hung in the air, thick and heady, and Jin’s hand twitched where it hovered over his own straining bulge, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch himself yet.
Hobi’s smirk sharpened, his cock still hard and glistening from Jimin’s efforts, bobbing slightly as he shifted Lyric in his lap. “Come on, Jin,” he drawled, voice low and taunting. “You’ve been staring like a starving man. Show me what you’ve got.”
Lyric giggled softly, her body still buzzing from everything, her hands sliding up Hobi’s chest as she twisted to glance at Jin. “Yeah, Jin,” she teased, her voice a sultry purr. “You begged so pretty earlier. Let’s see if you can back it up.”
Jin swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he didn’t hesitate long. He shuffled closer on his knees, his hands tentative at first as they settled on Lyric’s thighs, then slid up to Hobi’s, his fingers brushing the base of Hobi’s cock. He licked his lips, eyes darting between them, then leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste Hobi where Jimin had left him slick and messy.
Hobi groaned low, his head tipping back for a moment before he caught himself, his hands tightening on Lyric’s hips. “Fuck, that’s it,” he muttered, voice rough. “Don’t be shy now.”
Jin took the encouragement and ran with it, his mouth closing around Hobi’s tip, sucking slow and deep, his tongue working in broad, hungry strokes. He was less frantic than Jimin, more deliberate, but no less eager, his lips stretching as he took Hobi deeper, his cheeks hollowing with the effort.
Lyric moaned softly, the sight reigniting the heat in her core, and she reached down, her fingers threading into Jin’s hair this time. “So good, Jin,” she murmured, her voice thick with praise. “You look so fucking hot like that—sucking Hobi off like you were made for it.”
Jin’s eyes fluttered, a muffled groan vibrating through Hobi as her words hit him, spurring him on. His hands gripped Hobi’s thighs harder, his head bobbing now, sloppy and determined, spit dripping down his chin as he worked.
Hobi’s breath grew ragged, his control slipping as Jin’s mouth pushed him closer to the edge. “Shit—Lyric, he’s—” He cut himself off with a growl, one hand sliding up her stomach to palm her breast, grounding himself as he thrust shallowly into Jin’s mouth. “Keep talking to him, baby. He likes it.”
Lyric grinned, wicked and thrilled, tightening her grip in Jin’s hair as she leaned down slightly. “You do, don’t you, Jin?” she cooed, her voice dripping with heat. “Love hearing how good you are, how perfect your mouth feels on Hobi. Keep going—make him cum for you.”
Jin whimpered around Hobi, the sound desperate, and doubled his efforts, his tongue swirling faster, his lips sucking harder. His own hips rocked subtly, chasing friction he wasn’t getting, his arousal obvious in the tight strain of his pants.
Hobi’s head fell back again, a string of curses spilling out as his hips jerked, losing rhythm. “Fuck—Jin—gonna—” He didn’t finish, his hand clamping down on Lyric’s hip as he thrust once, twice more, then came with a guttural groan, spilling hot and thick into Jin’s mouth.
Jin took it all, swallowing greedily, his throat working as he milked Hobi through it, not pulling back until Hobi’s grip on Lyric loosened, his body slumping slightly against her. Jin finally released him, panting, lips swollen and wet, a dazed, triumphant look in his eyes as he glanced up at them.
Lyric laughed, breathless and delighted, stroking Jin’s hair gently. “Holy shit, Jin, you’re amazing,” she praised, her voice warm. She looked back at Hobi, who was catching his breath, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Think he earned that one, Hobi?”
Hobi chuckled, still winded, his hand sliding up to cup her jaw as he kissed her slow and deep. “Yeah, baby,” he murmured against her lips. “He fucking did.” His eyes flicked to Jimin, still recovering, then back to Jin. “Both of them did. But I’m not done with you yet.”
Lyric’s pulse jumped, a thrill shooting through her as Hobi’s tone promised more, his hands already shifting her in his lap again.
Hobi’s smirk was lazy but razor-sharp as he caught his breath, his hands still resting on Lyric’s hips. He tilted his head, eyeing Jimin and Jin with a mix of amusement and dominance, their flushed faces and swollen lips only fueling his taunt. “Look at you two,” he drawled, voice thick with mockery. “So fucking desperate for my girl, you’d suck my cock just to get a taste of her. Pathetic.”
Jimin flinched, his cheeks reddening even more, though his eyes stayed dark and defiant, still hazy from his untouched release. Jin shifted on his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze flickering between shame and lingering hunger. Neither of them denied it, and that only made Hobi’s grin widen.
“Thought so,” he muttered, then turned his attention to Lyric, his tone softening but still edged with command. “Let’s get these off, baby. Show them everything they’re dying for.” His hands moved to her shirt, tugging it up and over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Her shorts and underwear followed, yanked down her legs until she was bare against him, skin flushed and glistening, every curve exposed.
Lyric shivered, the cool air hitting her overheated body, but Hobi’s warmth at her back kept her grounded. He shifted her again, turning her to face Jin, her legs still spread over his lap as he leaned back, fully in control. “Jin,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “you did good with me. Now let’s see how you handle her. Lyric’s gonna show you how it’s done.”
Jin’s eyes widened, his breath catching as Lyric slid off Hobi’s lap and onto her knees in front of him, her hands already reaching for his pants. She glanced back at Hobi, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You directing, Hobi?”
“Damn right,” Hobi replied, his voice a growl as he settled back, one hand lazily stroking himself, still half-hard from before. “Undo him, baby. Take your time.”
Lyric obeyed, her fingers deftly unbuttoning Jin’s pants, tugging them down just enough to free his cock—hard, thick, and already leaking at the tip. Jin groaned, his head tipping back as her hands wrapped around him, giving a slow, teasing stroke. She looked up at him, then over at Hobi, waiting for his next move.
Hobi’s eyes glinted, locked on Jin’s wrecked expression. “Start with the tip,” he instructed, his tone firm. “Lick him slow, let him feel it.”
Lyric leaned in, her tongue flicking out to lap at Jin’s tip, tasting the salt of him as she circled it, deliberate and torturous. Jin’s hips jerked, a choked sound escaping his throat, his hands fisting at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.
“Good,” Hobi murmured, his voice dipping lower. “Now take him in, baby. Suck him deep—show him how you drive me fucking crazy.”
She parted her lips, sliding Jin into her mouth inch by inch, her tongue pressing flat against the underside as she took him deeper. Jin moaned, loud and broken, his head falling forward to watch her, his chest heaving. “Fuck—Lyric—”
Hobi chuckled, dark and approving. “Yeah, Jin, feels good, doesn’t it? She’s the best. Relax your throat, baby—let him hit the back.”
Lyric hummed around Jin, the vibration pulling another groan from him as she followed Hobi’s direction, relaxing to take him deeper until her nose brushed his skin. Jin’s hands flew to her hair, gripping tight, his hips twitching as he fought to stay still.
“Shit—Hobi, she’s—” Jin couldn’t finish, his words dissolving into a whimper as Lyric bobbed her head, slow and sloppy, spit slicking her lips.
“Life changing,” Hobi said, his voice smug as he watched, his hand still lazily stroking himself. “Look at her, hyung. Look how much she loves it. Tell her.”
Jin’s eyes were glassy, his voice wrecked. “You’re—so fucking good, noona—please don’t stop—”
Lyric pulled back just enough to smirk up at him, her hand pumping him as she caught her breath. “You’re cute when you beg, Jin,” she teased, then dove back in, sucking harder at Hobi’s next command.
“Faster now,” Hobi ordered, his tone sharpening. “Make him lose it, baby.”
She picked up the pace, her mouth working Jin with a relentless rhythm, her hands twisting at the base as she drove him toward the edge. Jin’s moans turned desperate, his grip in her hair tightening, his hips bucking despite himself.
Hobi leaned forward slightly, his voice a growl. “That’s it. Finish him.”
Lyric hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard and fast, and Jin shattered with a shout, spilling into her mouth as his whole body shook. She took it all, swallowing around him until he was whimpering, oversensitive and spent, his hands falling limp.
Hobi grinned, pulling Lyric back into his lap as she wiped her lips, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good girl,” he murmured, kissing her deep, tasting Jin on her tongue. He glanced at Jin, slumped and panting, then Jimin, still watching, wide-eyed. “She’s perfect.”
The air inside the private dining room was thick, a mix of lingering heat from the food, the tension between the nine of them, and the underlying awareness that the night could easily spiral into something more.
Destiny and Lyric exchanged a glance—silent, telepathic. Girls stick together. No matter how much they were enjoying themselves, they weren’t about to leave Lauren to make her way back alone.
Lyric leaned in first, her voice a sultry whisper as she trailed her fingers along Hobi’s wrist, barely grazing the sensitive skin beneath his sleeve. “I should go,” she murmured, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “But…”
She shifted, slipping something into his palm. Lace. Soft, damp, and unmistakable.
His breath hitched. His fingers curled around the delicate fabric on instinct, his knuckles brushing the inside of her thigh as he grasped what she’d just given him.
Lyric smirked at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. She leaned in even closer, lips just barely ghosting the shell of his ear. “You owe me a new pair.”
Hobi let out a slow exhale through his nose, his grip tightening involuntarily. His body betrayed him, hips shifting just slightly under the table as his mind short-circuited between the thought of what she’d just done and the way she felt pressed against him earlier in the night. He wasn’t going to survive this woman.
Meanwhile, Destiny turned to Namjoon, her gaze steady, but her lips curved with the hint of a smirk. “We’re heading out,” she said, her voice smooth but leaving something unspoken between them.
Namjoon studied her, then nodded, his jaw tightening. He didn’t want the night to end like this—not when every second with her had left his nerves frayed and his mind racing with everything he wanted to do. But he knew better than to push. Not yet.
Jungkook, however, didn’t even bother to hide his disappointment. “You sure?” His dark eyes flickered between Destiny and Lyric, his fingers still tingling from where they had grazed her skin earlier.
“Yeah,” Destiny said, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Lauren has an early appointment. We stick together.”
Lauren, who had been quiet, lifted her glass slightly before downing the last of her drink. “That’s right,” she added, standing up. “Besides, some of y’all look like you need a minute to cool down.” Her eyes flicked to Hobi, who was still gripping the lace in his palm, his thumb tracing it absentmindedly.
Yoongi chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Smart move.”
Lyric pressed a lingering kiss to Hobi’s cheek before pulling back, winking at Jimin and Jin, who both looked like they were trying very hard to play it cool.
Destiny lingered by the door a moment longer, exchanging one last glance with Namjoon. He looked like he had a thousand things he wanted to say, but in the end, all he did was dip his head slightly. “Goodnight.”
Her smirk deepened. “We’ll see.”
And with that, the three women walked out, the door clicking shut behind them.
The silence that followed was thick. Heavy. Charged.
Jungkook was the first to break it, exhaling sharply as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”
Namjoon leaned back in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. “We’re all in trouble.”
Hobi just stared down at the lace in his hand, flexing his fingers over the delicate material. He let out a low, breathless chuckle.
Lyric was already breathless, her body pliant under Hoseok’s touch, her head lolling against his shoulder as his hands explored—slow, teasing, deliberately cruel in the way they hovered where she needed him most but never gave her enough.
But this moment—this—wasn’t just about her.
It was about the men watching.
Jin and Jimin sat across from them, eyes dark, their bodies tensed, hands gripping their thighs as they tried—and failed—to keep themselves in check.
And Hoseok?
Hoseok fucking loved it.
He smirked, rolling his hips against Lyric, letting out a soft hum of approval as she whimpered, pressing herself further into his touch.
Then he looked up.
“Tell me,” he murmured, voice velvet and command wrapped in one, eyes locking onto Jimin first, then Jin. “Look me in my eyes and tell me you want to fuck her.”
Jimin inhaled sharply, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful.
Jin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers twitching.
Neither of them answered fast enough.
Hoseok tsked, shaking his head as he dragged his fingers—slow, deliberate—down Lyric’s stomach, slipping beneath the band of her shorts, his touch featherlight but so fucking heavy in its intent.
“You want her, don’t you?” His voice was lazy, laced with amusement, but his eyes burned with something ruthless. “Say it.”
Lyric gasped, her back arching as Hoseok’s fingers slid inside—one, then two, a slow, torturous stretch as he curled them, watching them instead of her.
Jimin shuddered.
Jin groaned.
“Tell me what you want to do to my girl’s body,” Hoseok continued, his tone turning darker, his pace slowing to an agonizing tease. “Use your words.”
Jimin’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.
“I—” he started, his breath hitching when Hoseok curled his fingers inside Lyric, making her whimper.
Jin was already gone, eyes glued to the way she writhed under Hoseok’s touch, the way her lips parted, her chest heaved—
“Fucking say it.”
Jimin exhaled sharply, his self-control shattering as he finally, finally met Hoseok’s eyes.
“I want her.” His voice was wrecked, raw, starving.
The house was quiet except for the faint hum of music playing from Destiny’s phone on the counter. The others had spread out—some showering, some lounging in exhaustion—but she still had energy thrumming under her skin, an unshaken buzz from the night.
So she danced.
Barefoot in Jungkook’s kitchen, wearing one of Namjoon’s old t-shirts that hung loose over her frame, she moved instinctively to the rhythm. Slow, teasing sways of her hips, arms stretching lazily overhead as she let herself get lost in the music.
She didn’t know she was being watched.
Jungkook had been on his way to get water when he stepped into the kitchen and froze.
His mouth went dry.
The dim glow of the under-cabinet lights kissed her skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat still lingering from the concert, the way the fabric of her borrowed shirt slid up just enough to tease the curve of her thighs as she moved.
Fuck.
She hadn’t noticed him yet. And he—well. He had no intention of interrupting.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched.
Destiny’s hips rolled, slow and languid, completely lost in her own world, the kind of movement that wasn’t for anyone—but had the power to bring a man to his knees anyway.
Jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose.
And then she turned.
The moment she saw him, she startled, stopping mid-movement.
“Oh, shit—”
Jungkook grinned.
“Don’t stop.”
His voice was low, still thick from the concert, rough around the edges in a way that made heat prickle over her skin.
Destiny swallowed, suddenly aware of how dark his eyes were, how heavy they had been on her before she even knew he was there.
“I was just—”
“Dancing,” Jungkook finished for her, pushing off the doorway and stepping closer. “Yeah. I saw.”
Her pulse kicked up.
He was shirtless, sweats hanging low on his hips, hair damp from the shower. The tattoos on his arm flexed as he reached for the glass he originally came for, filling it with water.
But he wasn’t really thinking about the water anymore.
Jungkook took a slow sip, eyes dragging over her as he swallowed.
“Keep going,” he murmured.
Destiny hesitated.
But then the music changed—something slower, deeper, bass-heavy—and she felt a slow smirk creep onto her lips.
“Oh,” she mused, cocking her head. “You like watching me dance, Jungkook?”
His jaw tensed, tongue swiping over his bottom lip.
“You have no fucking idea.”
And so she did.
She started moving again, this time knowing exactly who she was moving for.
The shift was subtle but deliberate—the way her hands traced over her own body, the way her hips rolled slower, teasing.
Jungkook was riveted.
He set the glass down, suddenly needing his hands free.
“You know what else she likes?”
The deep, rumbling voice sent a sharp thrill up Destiny’s spine.
Namjoon.
She turned slightly to see him standing just outside the kitchen, arms folded, one eyebrow raised as he took in the scene with dark amusement.
“She likes being told what to do,” he continued, stepping inside, closing the space between them.
Destiny’s breath hitched.
Namjoon tilted his head, watching her closely.
“Keep going,” he murmured. “But this time…” His fingers lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to stay locked on his. “Don’t look away.”
Fuck.
A slow heat curled through her stomach as she obeyed.
Jungkook made a noise low in his throat.
And then the others started filtering in.
Yoongi, quiet and sharp-eyed, leaning against the counter. Taehyung, taking his time, his stare heavy as he settled behind her.
