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Jungkook was in trouble.
That in itself wasn’t unusual. He was known to be a brat on occasion. Sometimes he was even a brat on purpose, when he felt that itch, the one that made him poke and prod at his hyungs until they turned him over their knee.
The problem was his hyungs had figured him out. And this time he’d pushed a little too far.
Now he was naked and bound so tightly he could barely squirm. His wrists were cuffed together above his head and then secured to a slat of the headboard. At the other end of the bed, Yoongi checked the straps attached to the spreader bar, slipping a long finger between Jungkook’s ankle and the restraint to make sure it wasn’t buckled too tightly.
Satisfied, Yoongi looked up the line of Jungkook's body. He paused when he caught Jungkook’s expression, but only smirked, unphased. Jungkook tried to widen his eyes even further, desperately projecting, Look how cute I am. I am innocent and have never done anything wrong in my life.
Yoongi raised unimpressed eyebrows in return before a clatter near the doorway pulled his attention away. Jungkook rolled his head to the other side – just about his only freedom of movement – and spotted Namjoon approaching, a black silk blindfold dangling from one hand.
With a new target in range, Jungkook redirected his pout. I am just a baby, you wouldn’t do this terrible thing to a baby would you?
Then he saw Namjoon’s expression and withdrew his protruding bottom lip so fast he sank his teeth into it instead. Namjoon was wearing his leader face, not the boyfriend face Jungkook usually got to see when they were at home, and he hadn’t changed out of the pressed slacks and button-down he’d worn for this morning’s meeting at Big Hit. The meeting he had made them all significantly late for. Jungkook shrank a little beneath Namjoon’s gaze as he came to a stop parallel to Jungkook’s head.
“Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes. Spankings clearly don’t count as a real punishment, so it’s your own fault we’ve had to get creative. It’s fine if you want to make yourself a nuisance sometimes to get your discipline fix, but the moment your behavior affects our schedule, and by extension the staff’s schedule, we can’t really let you get off with something you actually enjoy.”
Jungkook dipped his chin to escape that stern expression. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes. He hated disappointing any of his hyungs, but especially Namjoon. He hadn’t meant for everything to spin so far out of control today.
In his peripheral vision, he saw his hyung drop into a crouch, and then gentle hands were nudging his face back up. When he met Namjoon’s eyes again, they had softened considerably.
“What’s your color, sweetheart? We’ll go back to the drawing board if you need to safeword.”
Warmth surged in Jungkook’s chest at the reminder of how careful his hyungs were with him even when they were annoyed. They loved him and would take care of him, and that didn’t change just because he had fucked up today. Jungkook nuzzled into Namjoon’s warm palm, feeling some of the distress that had risen at the scolding settle. Namjoon draped the blindfold on the edge of the bed and stroked his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, giving him time to consider. If he said red, this would be over – until they came up with another punishment. He wasn’t going to enjoy any of them, so it might as well be this one. It couldn’t be that bad, right?
“I’m green, hyungie,” he finally whispered.
“Okay, baby. Tell us immediately if that changes.” He picked up the blindfold again.
As if that were a signal to the rest of the hyungs, the bedroom door opened again and the missing members filed in. Namjoon paused, allowing Jungkook to watch everyone fall into place on all sides of the bed, surrounding him like wolves. Their collective expressions morphed from stern to hungry as they admired Jungkook’s predicament, stretched bare and helpless before them. The last thing Jungkook saw before his vision went black was Jimin’s sharklike smile as he leaned in under Namjoon’s arms.
He felt his face heat as Namjoon secured the Velcro edges of the cloth behind his head. It’s not like this was an extreme kink compared to some of the things they’d tried together. He couldn’t explain why this was so embarrassing. It just was. It was a stupid punishment and he hated it already. Not enough to safeword, but nothing stopped him from grumbling defiantly in his own head. He knew they thought he was going to break down hard, but he would show them that he could take a little tickling.
Namjoon’s hands fell away, leaving Jungkook alone in his cocoon of darkness. He held his breath, waiting.
Then he waited some more, ears straining for any sound.
What were his hyungs doing now? Were they just staring at his naked body and plotting where to torment him first? He’d expected them to dive right in, so this absolute stillness set him on edge. His skin tingled with dreadful anticipation, intensely aware of how exposed his most vulnerable areas were. It felt like his sensitivity had been ratcheted up to maximum and he hadn’t even been touched yet. The nervous gulp he swallowed as he waited was so loud that it had to have been audible to the whole room.
The first touch was light, just a brush of fingertips up his ribcage, but it still made him jump. Before he could recover, blunt nails scratched lightly at his hip, right above the jut of bone. He let out an undignified squawk, jerking uselessly against his restraints. Then - Was that a feather? What kind of clichéd nonsense –
But it was immediately clear that it was a cliché because it was effective. Barbs, somehow soft yet firm at the same time, danced over the shell of his right ear and down the side of his neck. He scrunched his chin to lessen the feather’s access, but another swooped in on the other side to take advantage. It was like a terrible duet, the prodding, scraping, squirming fingers all along his torso and the delicate brush of the feathers.
He gritted his teeth, determined not to give them the satisfaction of his laughter. The other members were going to see it wasn’t that easy to break him down. He could handle a little tickling, he wasn’t a child –
A new sensation startled him into a gasp. It was soft and bristly, caressing the delicate skin of his inner thigh. A makeup brush, maybe? One of those thick, fluffy ones they used for foundation?
The gasp wasn’t a failure, in his opinion. He had just been startled.
The problem was, however, that it had apparently only been the clench of his jaw that had been holding back his laughter. The moment his mouth opened wide noises started pouring from his throat.
He laughed and cackled and giggled and shrieked. There was so much ticklish stimulation and it was all different in intensity, frequency, and pattern. His body was trying to get used to it, to anticipate it, but it was impossible. He began to run out of breath from his uncontrolled sounds. The assault petered off just long enough for him to hope it might be over, but the moment his breathing started to even out, the onslaught began all over again.
I can do this, he told himself as he continued to struggle. His hyungs would get tired soon. Then it would be over, and he’d still have at least most of his dignity intact. He hadn’t even begged or anything. I can do th-
“Shit!” He tried to flail with little success. Whichever member was down at the end of the bed should be grateful for the restraints or Jungkook would have absolutely just kicked someone in the face. “What the fu –“ He interrupted himself with another shriek. Dozens of rounded prongs were biting into the sole of his left foot. The amount that tickled was unreal. His laughter pitched up into something approaching a banshee as the sensation alternated from one foot to the other, scrubbing viciously across each arch.
What the hell was happening?
“Wha- aaah, shit – what?” he tried to ask. Whoever was wielding the torture implement paused and then tapped the bottom of his foot, only instead of rows of knobby teeth, he felt a cool, smooth surface pressing into his overheated skin.
Jungkook sputtered again, this time in betrayal. He knew exactly what that was.
It was a hairbrush, though it had never been used for its intended purpose. Its wide wooden back made for a convenient, nondescript paddle, while the rounded, silicone-coated handle was perfect for other activities, if the punishing hyung was feeling particularly magnanimous afterward. He wanted to know which of his tormenters had thought up the cruel trick of using one of his favorite discipline implements against him in a way he definitely did not enjoy.
And he did not enjoy tickling. He absolutely did not. But it was so much stimulation. And he was naked and restrained. And all of his hyungs were touching him at the same time. Could anyone really blame him if his nipples had started to perk up somewhere along the way? Or if his cock was maybe beginning to fill without even once being touched?
Maybe if he was lucky his hyungs would be too focused on their torture to notice?
“Looks like someone’s getting a little needy, hmm, JK?” Hoseok growled in his ear almost immediately. “I thought you hated being tickled.”
“I- I do hate it, aaah!” Jungkook broke off with a wail as one of the feathers disappeared from tracing the side of his pec and returned the other way around, the stiff shaft flicking at his nipple.
“Yes, you sound like you’re having a terrible time,” Jimin’s voice agreed mildly from his other side and the feather over there joined in the new torment, alternating between the rough scrape of the shaft and the soft dance of the barbs. They seemed to be exploring what made him whine and twitch the most, from tracing the outer edge of his areolas to focusing on epicenter of the hard nub, switching between both ends as they went. Jungkook couldn’t tell which was worse, the unforgiving shaft or the teasing barbs.
“Poor baby is leaking already,” Seokjin noted from further down his body. The makeup brush made a sudden detour up the length of his dripping cock and his hips jerked so hard he nearly gave himself a cramp.
Jungkook didn’t know what to feel. Despite the sudden dive into sexy territory, there were still fingernails tracing the depths of his armpits and the hairbrush was still working over his feet, focusing on the heels now. It was all so much.
“Please, god, please, please,” he begged, feeling tears start to pool in his eyelashes. He didn’t even know what he was begging for. Did he want them to stop? Did he want them to continue? He couldn’t even think, how was he supposed to know?
“Color, baby?” He heard Namjoon murmur. All sensation paused, giving him a moment of peace for his head to clear.
“Green, hyung, ‘m green, just please,” he gasped.
“Please what, sweetheart? You’ve taken your punishment so well, does baby want to come?”
What kind of question was that? He couldn’t see his own cock, but from the way it throbbed in time with his rabbit-fast heartbeat and the sticky spatter of precome spreading across his stomach, he had to look like a desperate mess. “Yes, hyungs, please, please make me come.”
“Don’t forget this is still a punishment, Jungkookie. If you want us to be generous enough to let you come, we aren’t going to stop. We’ll keep tickling you. Otherwise we can stop now, but you aren’t allowed to come until tomorrow.”
Jesus fuck his hyungs could be merciless. It still only took him a second to decide.
“Please, I don’t care, I need it, please make me come,” he gasped. He was way too worked up at this point. Denial sounded a hundred times worse.
Yoongi chuckled then, deep and rough and a little bit evil. “You heard the baby.”
A moment later his body practically seized as it tried to flinch away from too many directions at once. All of the sensations were back, but this time they were mobile. Before, each implement had mostly stayed in its respective quadrant of his body, but this time they were everywhere.
The hairbrush bit back into one of his feet, but instead of staying there, it ran up the length of his leg, dipping beneath his knee on its way up to his ribcage. The feathers started out back on his nipples, but then one traveled, dipping into his belly button before teasing across his dripping slit. His hands curled into fists above his head as he arched up, chasing the sensation, cock twitching. The other feather jumped to spiral across his armpit and then abruptly disappeared only to reappear much lower, flickering a slow path behind his balls and swirling around his rim.
Fingers had replaced the feathers on his nipples, pinching and tweaking and scraping across the aching peaks, while other fingers continued their assaults on his armpits, ribs, and feet. He wailed and begged for more than these touches that were somehow not enough and way too much all at once.
In the background, underneath his own labored breathing and whimpers, he heard Taehyung’s deep voice murmur something about an idea, but there were too many hands still busy on his skin for him to spend more than a moment worrying about what they might do to him next.
He was therefore completely unprepared when a sudden wet sensation engulfed his cock. He bucked hard enough that he heard at least two people yelp and scrabble to maintain their spots on the edges of the bed.
“We’re going to have to figure out a way to strap down his hips next time,” Seokjin noted. Just the thought of a next time was too much for his overloaded brain to handle, so he focused instead on figuring out what was happening on his cock. The wetness was too cool to be a mouth and the texture was weird.
Then it squeezed around him and he choked on his own spit as the familiar sensation clicked into place. It was a cocksleeve, one that was open on both ends and dotted inside with silicone nubs to add extra sensation. The hyungs often used this particular one when they wanted to edge him to tears, which was not a comforting association right now.
He threw his head back and groaned as the hand around the cocksleeve slowly worked it over his base. It mostly twisted back and forth, only occasionally lifting to pump him just a little bit, leaving the weeping head of his cock untouched and jutting out the top of the toy. The grasp around it was firm enough that every one of the tiny fingers insdie ground against him viciously, but it still wasn’t enough.
Then the makeup brush descended upon the exposed head of his cock, working in fast circles like it was trying to polish him to a shine. He yelled through gritted teeth, twisting and arching so much he could hear his various restraints creaking. He wasn’t usually the most foul-mouthed of the group, but for some reason expletives and entreaties were the only words in left in his vocabulary.
“Fuck! Shit! Please, fuck – fucking, aah! Please!”
Tears were streaming freely down his face now. Just when he started to think his torture would never end and he would be suspended on this edge forever, one of the feathers snuck into the middle of everything and began flicking over the sensitive spot beneath his head. That was all it took to fling him violently over the brink. He exploded with a ragged scream the likes of which he had never heard himself make.
Mercilessly, all of the hands kept going, and so did his orgasm. He was almost grateful for restraints and the hands that held him down, because otherwise he felt like he might fly apart. Suspended in a state of white-hot pleasure that was almost painful, his cock continued to jerk and spurt, thick droplets spattering his stomach and chest.
He was completely breathless once it was over, nerves fried and brain buzzing, but his hyungs still had not stopped teasing and tickling.
Another screamed ripped free from his throat as the tip of a feather scooped out the last drops of his come from his slit, flicking it all around his sensitive head. The surely-ruined makeup brush took it from there, rubbing the come into his softening shaft. His mind was nothing but static. As his whimpers picked up in pitch and frequency, his struggles decreased until he lay limp in his bonds, taking whatever his hyungs decided to give him.
An unknown amount of time later, he realized with a fuzzy sense of surprise that it was over. He hadn’t noticed exactly when it stopped, but the hands had switched from tormenting to gentle petting. There was tugging at each of his restrained limbs that told him he would be unbound as soon as his hyungs had worked the various clasps and buckles loose. He tried to sigh his relief and realized he didn’t have enough air for it, so he sucked in a giant lungful. It felt like the first full breath he had taken in forever.
Fingers trailed up his wet cheek to the edge of the blindfold and tapped twice. He knew that signal, knew it meant he should close his eyes before they were exposed to light again. He tried to obey, only to realize they were already closed. It felt like his entire body was disconnected, like he had no way to know what any part of him was doing at the moment.
A gust of cool air washed over his heated face as the fabric was pulled away. Now he knew he could open his eyes, but he had to remember how. After a long moment, his eyelids finally cooperated. Then there was a serious delay between his eyes taking in visual information and his poor fried brain translating it into something meaningful. He blinked rapidly, taking in a warm smile, sleep black hair pushed up to bare a forehad, a plastic water battle dripping slowly with condensation.
"Hey, bunny, you with us?" Jimin asked from his perch beside his head. He reached up above Jungkook's head to grab one of his wrists and brought it down to his lap, massaging the cuff marks reddening his skin. Jungkook hadn't realized his hands were free. He tried to lower his other arm and was bemused when the best he could manage was an uncoordinated flop.
Jimin cooed at him. “You did such a good job, Jungkookie. Will you let hyungs show you how sexy you looked?”
Jungkook just blinked. The answer was yes, he would let hyungs do anything they wanted, but he wasn’t sure what was being asked of him. Jimin’s smile spread and cool fingers urged Jungkook to turn his head.
Inches from his nose was a cock. It was hard and wet and being stroked steadily by a big hand. It was a nice cock. It looked just like Namjoonie-hyung’s cock.
“Hey, gorgeous. You going to let us mark you?”
Jungkook’s eyes slid up from the cock and realized the rest of Namjoon was attached to it. That was nice. And oh, there was another cock just beside the first one, also pretty and big and hard.
“He’s really out of it, isn’t he,” Seokjin muttered roughly. “Damn, he’s hot when he’s wrecked like this.”
In fact, now that he kept looking around, there were five cocks! And they were all hard and pointed at him. How splendid. He still wasn’t sure what the question was, but he knew what he wanted.
“Wan’ it, hyungs. Gimme, please.” All his syllables slurred together and he frowned a little, unsure how that happened.
“What is it that you want, baby? Use your words,” Hoseok teased.
He pouted. “Come! Want hyungs’ come, please hyungs, been good.”
There was another chorus of cooing.
“You were so good, baby, took it so well,” Jimin affirmed, stroking his knuckles down the side of Jungkook’s face as the hands on the cocks all around him sped up. Jungkook turned back to Jimin, realizing there was something wrong with this picture.
“Can’t have your come?” he asked sadly, noticing Jimin’s pants remained buttoned.
Tae snickered. “You can’t have his come because Jiminie came in his pants like a teenager.”
Color rose to Jimin’s cheeks, but he huffed and raised his chin. “That sound he made when he came was the hottest thing I’ve heard in my entire life and I refuse to be ashamed. So, bun, you already got my come. You were so good, you made me come even though I was trying hard to hold back.” Jungkook continued to frown and Jimin sighed. “Come-slut,” he muttered fondly. He slipped his hand down his pants and it reappeared wet. “You want it?”
Jungkook nodded happily, mouth falling opening, and Jimin pressed his fingers onto Jungkook’s tongue.
The first splash of fresh release followed right after as Namjoon came across Jungkook’s right pec and spattered up to his chin. The rest of the hyungs followed like dominoes. Yoongi and Hoseok painted Jungkook’s stomach, Seokjin decorated his thigh, and Tae added to Jungkook’s own mess across his cock.
Jungkook basked in the feeling for a moment before Jimin tapped his shoulder. “Come on, bun, you need to drink a little. Can you hold the bottle yourself?” When all he got in response was more blinking, he shook his head with a fond smile. Seokjin wedged one arm beneath Jungkook’s head to prop him up and Jimin nodded his thanks as he focused on carefully tipping the open bottle to Jungkook’s lips.
The first swallow was reflexive, but as soon as the water hit his throat, he realized how thirsty he was and started chugging eagerly. “Woah there, baby, not so fast,” Jimin murmured, pulling the bottle away for a second.
“Hey, bunny?” Yoongi called, pulling Jungkook’s attention away from pouting at Jimin for a second. “Can I take a picture? No face, of course, just from the neck down. You look so gorgeous like this.”
Jungkook nodded eagerly, almost knocking the water bottle out of Jimin’s hand before it was pulled out of range. He expected Yoongi to hold up a phone, but instead he held up his digital camera. Jungkook wasn’t sure where he’d gotten that – had he left the room and Jungkook hadn’t noticed? Had he brought it in with him when he brought all the restraints, expecting Jungkook to end up looking absolutely ruined at the end? He didn’t really care, just preened under the lens.
“Okay, I know you hate this part, but it’s cleanup time,” Seokjin announced, approaching with a towel. “No, don’t pout. You can’t stay covered in come forever. You want cuddles, right? Cuddles only happen after cleanup, you know the rules.”
Jungkook sighed morosely but didn’t struggle as Jin scrubbed the warm, wet towel across his abdomen. Namjoon cupped his chin in one hand and turned Jungkook’s face toward him to clean his cheeks with a cloth that had started life as a T-shirt, since they had quickly discovered that no towel on Earth was soft enough for a sensitive subspace Jungkook. Another wet, warm cloth was gently patting away the majority of the mess on his cock. Maybe cleanup wasn’t so bad.
The various cloths were pulled away, probably to be dropped in a nearby hamper to avoid Hobi’s wrath. Just as Jungkook began to shiver a little, now damp as well as naked, his hyungs piled into the bed. Bodies squeezed on either side of him, those who couldn’t be directly next to him reaching hands over to tangle in his hair or squeeze his arm. Tae wriggled onto the foot of the bed, burrowing beneath Jungkook’s legs. Jimin flopped directly on top of him, face tucked into the curve of Jungkook’s neck.
No matter how much he liked whatever intense sex they did together – Not that I liked this one, he reminded himself – this always ended up being the best part.
“How are you doing, bun?” Namjoon asked quietly, tightening the arm he had around Jungkook’s waist in an affectionate squeeze.
“Good,” Jungkook replied. “I’m sorry for making everyone run late today.”
“You’re forgiven, sweetheart. That’s part of what punishment is for. Clean slate.”
“How was this as punishment?” Seokjin asked from his other side.
He shuddered a little. “It was awful.”
Seokjin snorted. “Right, but like a tolerable ‘I won’t forget this lesson any time soon’ sort of awful or the bad kind of awful where we should find an alternative?”
Jungkook scrunched his face in displeasure and Seokjin mimicked him, both holding their ridiculous expressions until the younger broke into giggles and the older followed.
“I guess it was tolerable. I really don’t want to be subjected to it again anytime soon, but I know that’s the whole point. I didn’t feel unsafe or scared or overwhelmed.” He stopped. “No wait, I was definitely overwhelmed, but it wasn’t the bad kind. Not the anxiety-attack kind. Just the overstimulation kind.”
“And it’s not like you didn’t orgasm your brains out at the end,” Jimin’s sleepy voice added.
Yoongi snorted. “Jimin would point that out, since this punishment was his idea.”
Two betrayed voices yelped Hyung! at the same time, though they were directed at different people.
After a momentary standoff, Jimin finally sighed and nestled in again. “Whatever, fine, it was my idea. It was a good one. And it’s not like Jungkook was the only one that got off hard on it. You all loved seeing him so wrecked, don’t deny it.”
“You loved it the most, Mr. Come Pants,” Yoongi fired back.
There was a pause.
“Jimin, you did change pants, right?” Hoseok finally asked. When there was only silence in reply, Hobi pointed at the door. “Out, go change your pants, you’re disgusting.”
Grumbling, Jimin wriggled his way out of the cuddle pile. Jungkook considered mentioning that he didn't really care if Jimin laid on him with come pants but thought better of it. It sounded like he owed Jimin some payback and allowing him to be temporarily expelled from snuggles was as good a place as any to start. Taehyung started rubbing soothing circles into one of his ankles and Jungkook allowed himself to drift off. Maybe this punishment wasn’t really all that bad.
But he was never going to tell his hyungs that.