Shared with his best friend

Part-1

The apartment had been their sanctuary once—a sun-drenched studio where Jungkook and Y/N built a world from textbooks and whispered promises. They'd been inseparable since high school, that rare breed of childhood sweethearts who actually survived the transition to adulthood. When university acceptance letters arrived, they chose the same city, signed the same lease, and spent twelve months discovering each other in every possible way.

Those early nights had been tender. Jungkook worshipping her with a reverence that made her weep, calling her his forever, his only. They cooked together badly, studied together silently, made love until dawn broke pink across the horizon. With parents an ocean away, they answered to no one but each other.

Then Jimin arrived.

He came with a duffel bag and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, Jungkook's "brother from another mother" escaping a bad roommate situation. Y/N had squeezed Jungkook's hand under the table that first dinner, uneasy with the way Jimin watched her—assessing, hungry.

"He's my best friend," Jungkook had whispered later, nuzzling her neck. "Be nice to him, yeah? He's lonely."

The first incident happened two weeks in. Jimin "accidentally" brushed her breast in the kitchen. Y/N had frozen, spatula in hand, heart hammering. Jungkook was in the next room.

"Sorry," Jimin had said, not sounding sorry at all. "You're just so beautiful. Hard to control myself."

She told Jungkook that night, trembling against his chest. He'd stroked her hair, puzzled. "He's touchy, babe. European style. Don't be so conservative—it's normal in America. He doesn't mean anything by it."

But he did. The touches escalated—her hip as she passed, her neck when he leaned over her shoulder at the laptop, her lips when he cornered her in the hallway and pressed his mouth to hers before she could protest, squeezing her breasts with proprietary greed.

"Don't tell Jungkook," he whispered against her struggling mouth. "You'll upset him. Just between us."

She stayed silent. She loved Jungkook too much to cause conflict, to be the reason his friendship soured. So she swallowed her tears when Jimin's hands roamed, stood still when he kissed her, died a little more each day.

Then came the night that changed everything.

They'd been drinking—Jungkook's idea, a "bonding night." Y/N had nursed one glass, watching the boys get progressively drunker, Jimin's eyes never leaving her body in her thin pajama shorts.

"Y/N's so fucking hot, JK," Jimin slurred, leaning across the coffee table. "You're lucky, man. Those tits... fuck."

"Right?" Jungkook laughed, pulling Y/N into his lap. "Perfect, aren't they?"

"I want to touch them. Like... really touch them. Suck them."

The room went silent. Y/N's heart stopped.

"Jungkook..." she whispered, pleading.

But her boyfriend—her love, her everything—just kissed her temple with that easy smile. "Chill, sweetheart. It's normal here. Open relationship, sharing, all that. Jimin's my best friend. He's lonely. Let him feel included."

"Please," she begged, tears already gathering. "I don't want—"

"Don't make this weird," Jungkook said, and something in his tone shifted. Not angry, just... disappointed. "I thought you were cool. Progressive. Don't be so possessive."

She went quiet. The silence was consent in his eyes.

"Strip," Jimin commanded, and Jungkook helped, lifting her shirt over her head before she could protest, sliding her shorts down her trembling legs until she stood naked between them, arms crossed over her chest.

"Beautiful," Jimin breathed, vulgar appreciation dripping from his tongue. "Look at that body. Built for fucking, yeah?"

"Lay down," Jungkook instructed gently, as if asking her to sleep. "Between us."

They positioned her on the bed like a sacrifice, Jungkook on her right, Jimin on her left. The ceiling fan spun lazy circles above as they both propped themselves on elbows, gazing down at her exposed flesh.

"Ready?" Jungkook asked Jimin.

"Been ready since I moved in," Jimin grinned, and then they descended.

Two mouths closed over her nipples simultaneously—Jungkook familiar, gentle, the man she loved; Jimin ravenous, teeth grazing, sucking hard enough to bruise. Y/N arched off the bed with a cry that was part pain, part betrayal, part unwanted arousal.

"Fuck, these are sweet," Jimin mumbled around her flesh, his hand sliding down her stomach. "Look how hard they are. She loves this, JK. Your girl's a slut for two mouths."

"She's sensitive here," Jungkook murmured, demonstrating by flicking his tongue rapidly against her nipple, making her gasp despite herself. "Aren't you, baby? You love being worshipped."

"I love..." she started, meaning to say you, meaning to beg him to stop, but Jimin's hand had found her pussy, two fingers sliding through wetness she hated herself for producing.

"Shaved bare," Jimin observed, spreading her open with crude fingers. "Just how I like. Look at this pretty cunt, Jungkook. No wonder you can't keep your hands off."

"Touch her clit," Jungkook instructed, his voice thick with arousal. "She likes circles. Slow at first."

Jimin obeyed, his rough thumb pressing against her sensitive bud, making tight, cruel circles while Jungkook's fingers pushed inside her, curling against that spot that made her see stars despite her shame.

"Oh god," she whimpered, head thrashing.

"Yeah, scream for us," Jimin laughed, biting her nipple hard enough to leave marks. "Scream for your boyfriend and his best friend. Two men using your body like you were made for it. You feel that? Fingers in your pussy, mouth on your tits? This is what you were born for, princess. Being shared. Being fucked."

"She's so wet," Jungkook marveled, adding a third finger, stretching her while Jimin worked her clit mercilessly. "See, baby? Your body knows what it wants even if your mind is shy. You love this. Love us both using you."

"I don't," she sobbed, but her hips were moving, grinding against their hands, traitorous and desperate.

"Liar," Jimin sneered, switching nipples, sucking her other breast into his mouth with loud, obscene sounds. "Your cunt is dripping on my hand. You're a natural whore, Y/N. Bet you've fantasized about this. Two men. Maybe more. Maybe we should invite the whole fraternity next time, yeah? Pass you around while Jungkook watches."

"Don't," she begged, but the image—terrible, degrading—sent a spike of heat through her belly.

"Don't what?" Jungkook asked, pumping his fingers faster, fucking her with his hand while his best friend tortured her clit. "Don't make you cum? Don't make you feel good? But you feel so good, baby. So tight around my fingers. Cum for us. Show Jimin how pretty you are when you break."

They worked her in tandem—Jungkook's fingers hitting deep, rhythmic, knowing her body perfectly; Jimin's thumb circling, pressing, relentless, his teeth marking her breasts as his territory. The dual sensation was overwhelming, the humiliation somehow fueling the fire building in her core.

"Please," she gasped, not knowing if she was begging for mercy or release.

"Cum," Jimin commanded, pinching her clit between thumb and finger. "Cum like a good little shared slut. Cum with your boyfriend's fingers in your pussy and his best friend's mouth on your tit. Do it. Now."

She shattered. The orgasm ripped through her with violent force, her back arching off the mattress, her scream raw and broken. They didn't stop—Jungkook kept fucking her with his fingers, prolonging the spasms, while Jimin sucked her nipple so hard she thought she might pass out from the intensity.

"Beautiful," Jungkook whispered, kissing her tear-streaked face as she came down, trembling and ruined.

"Delicious," Jimin corrected, licking his lips, his fingers still circling her oversensitive clit, making her jerk and whimper. "We're keeping this arrangement, yeah? Every night. Jungkook gets your pussy, I get these perfect tits. Maybe more eventually. Maybe everything."

Y/N turned her face into the pillow, silent tears soaking the fabric, as Jungkook murmured agreement and Jimin's hands began roaming again. She had lost something tonight—not just her body, but the illusion that love meant protection.

And somewhere in the darkness, as they used her again and again until dawn, she realized this was only the beginning.