pairing﹢jung wooyoung x fem!reader x choi san
genre﹢smut. inspired by this song. usage of weed and aphrodisiac. consensual, relationship hinting at friends with benefits, cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, blowjob, slight hair pulling, cumeating, threesome, soft dom!san + mean dom!woo, praising, degradation, overstimulation, usage of petnames (baby, angel, princess, doll), reader gets called a whore once, spit roast + double penetration (all vaginal sex), piv (unprotected sex), creampie, aftercare.
synopsis﹢three best friends, a connection that doesn’t exactly follow the rules... and cookies baked with a little extra something.
word count﹢6,4k
the room smells faintly sweet; at least, you think it's sweet, too used to it to be anything else. smoke curling in foggy circles toward the ceiling as you cough out another giggle, slumping back into the couch. everything feels warm, maybe too warm… you don’t even know, it’s so nice, and SAN'S voice is honey-thick, pulling another laugh from you even if you don’t fully understand the joke.
“it’s not even that funny,” WOOYOUNG mutters from the floor, but his grin betrays him, lips pink from the joint that his best friend passed back at him. you tilt sideways, head falling against san’s shoulder as you blink up at him with heavy-lidded and soft eyes. you laugh, high on how good it feels to say it, confessing again and again to the boys you love the most.
it’s one of those nights where you invite them for a sleepover, promising that you will have fun, watch a movie, or play video games. however, the three of you know activities like that would be quickly forgotten once wooyoung brings some of his leftover or unused weed.
san stiffens as your laughter puts him in a trance, when you’re already moving, climbing into his lap, straddling his thighs as your fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt (it’s actually a shirt you stole from him) until it’s over your head. tossed carelessly aside, leaving you in a laced bra that makes his cheeks turn bright red, flushed not only from the consumption of cannabis.
“i think about you touching me right here,” you murmur, your own voice sounding far away and dreamlike as you guide his hand between your thighs, pressing his palm against your clothed heat. his eyes go wide, mouth parted as if he might say something, but the words never form. because then there’s movement, the couch dips next to him, and suddenly you’re not in his lap anymore — you’re in wooyoung’s.
“so you think about only him?” wooyoung’s voice is lower now, a smirk ghosting across his face even though his hands grip your hips like he’s claiming territory. his gaze flicks toward san, who’s frozen, pupils dilating as he doesn’t know whether to smile sweetly or grin manically.
your head falls back, laughter bubbling up again, not realizing the tension between them. “nooo,” whining with your fingers slipping into wooyoung’s hair to play with it. “i think about you too... both of you like… always.”
then you’re kissing him, sloppy and eagerly, your chuckles breaking against his mouth as he swallows the sound. tongue pushes past your lips, greedy and oh so needy, as his hand slides under your skimpy shorts to press firmly against your heat. san shifts closer, unable to look away, the smoke making everything hazy. his hand lingers against your bare thigh, hesitant but aching to feel you.
you’re giggling again, hips rocking against wooyoung’s fingers through your panties, and he feels the dampness of how wet you are already. the couch creaks beneath the three of you. san’s breath catches when your hand blindly reaches back, finding his and tugging him closer, because you don’t want him watching only, you want him touching you too.
“feels so good...” you whine, words slurred with haze, it comes more out of a moan, and it's not that you haven't behaved like that with them before, but it was a whole lot different. two pairs of eyes are narrowing toward the empty plate on the table, and a shocked expression colors wooyoung’s face.
“oh, shit.”
san blinks. “what?”
“the cookies.”
silence stretches upon the realization. you’re rubbing your thighs together absentmindedly, skin warm, breath shallow. you are trembling, for one reason or another, making wooyoung look at san, and san looks at you, when it all starts to make sense.
“bro,” wooyoung mutters, voice strained. “we put aphrodisiac in those.”
“fuck." san winces, "we were high when we made them… i forgot.” and they didn’t tell you, not because they meant to hide it, but because they forgot about it.
that explains it. the way heat coils low in your stomach, blooming and spreading under your skin until you are flushed, feverish even. your body reacts faster than your thoughts can catch up — pulse loud in your ears, nerves wrecking, making you addicted. you barely have the time to think, maybe not because of the weed, or those yummy chocolate chip cookies you had, because what’s wrong with them? they were baked well. wooyoung always knows to add more chocolate because you like them more stuffed… you wish you were stuffed full instead, wouldn’t that be so nice?
“we made her extra horny now,” wooyoung says, and he is not even panicked; he is so chill about it that his dazed eyes are glued to the way you squirm. “shit... she’s hot though, but what the fuck do we do?”
“i dunno,” san shrugs, but he’s not really present, gaze locked on how you're trembling in his best friend’s arms. his hands are steady when his thumb brushes your waist. “she does feel… really warm.”
your bra digs into your skin, panties too tight, air against your neck making you shiver. the fabric suddenly feels unbearable; it’s getting so hot in here. even your own heartbeat feels intrusive and distracting as you whine softly, clutching at wooyoung’s shirt, as if it might save you from the sudden adrenaline rush.
you thought you learned your lesson, playing by the book, self-improvement, distancing from substances like that. all of it crumbles the second they look at you like this. holding you close just for tonight, wanting to last until morning light, and even in your dazed state, you know one thing, and that is — their affection is more addicting than any drug.
“so do you think i’m just desperate…” you ask, breathless and aroused, fingers twitching between keeping them to yourself or touching the one holding you. they choose for you, sliding up his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm. “or do you know that i’m obsessed with how it feels when we fu—”
he doesn’t let you finish when he kisses you hard, like he’s been holding it back for the last time he had you like this. mouth warm, insistent, teeth biting your lower lip until you melt into him. you arch, while his hands roam down your back, over your ass, squeezing like he’s memorizing, no matter that he knows every part of your body by heart.
then strong hands lift you, and your world spins, as the other black-haired man presses you against him, lips claiming yours next, slower but deeper, kissing you with his hands exploring already claimed territory, thumbs brushing over your nipples through lace until you’re whining into his mouth.
san sits you back down between them, and this time they don’t hesitate. wooyoung slips your bra off, throwing it somewhere, kisses a wet trail down your throat to your chest, tongue flicking until your back bows and toes curl. san’s fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down to your ankles until they hit the floor, spreading you open like he’s ready to enter heaven.
“we’re gonna take care of you,” his eyes searching yours, but they were closed from the pleasure. “okay?”
you nod frantically like a lovesick junkie begging for one more little puff of whatever this is.
they prepare you like an angel needing all the care and love, but your divine being seeks warmth from the devils instead. their fingers are slick, mouths everywhere, every touch feels magnetic, overwhelming in the best way, until you’re aching for more: who could blame you for that?
am i crazy for wanting us to be mutually obsessed? the thought barely forms before san settles between your legs, careful as he lifts them and puts them over his shoulders, adjusting until you’re comfortable. his kisses are hungry, and he can’t resist licking and biting your inner thighs. he got the urge to bite from his best friend, who just loved to mark and munch on your sweet skin.
everything is too much, and somehow, still not enough.
wooyoung’s breath is hot against your shoulder, his mouth following san’s example, biting where he knows you’ll feel it most. they’ve always had a thing for marks, bites, and hickeys: little reminders that are so hard to cover and linger for days.
letting yourself want it all, when the man between your legs' mouth finally finds its place on your slick and wet folds, a breathy whimper slips out before you can stop it. the way his tongue pushes in, sucking as his hands tighten their hold on your hips, which twitch instinctively.
woo’s hand comes up from behind, as he toys with your nipples with his fingers, making your stomach twist, then wrapping them around your throat, squeezing gently, with you barely registering when they’re in your mouth.
“atta boy,” he murmurs, gazing down at his friend. “save some for me, alright?”
you can’t focus on anything else when san is completely gone. “sannie…” his name slips out softly from your lips, a muffled moan with wooyoung’s fingers still inside your mouth until he drags them out, so you can take a breather.
“baby, you’re so wet for me… look at you,” the beast down there glances up at you then, eyes filled with adoration, mouth curved like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and for some reason, you can’t look away. being extremely needy, and open in a way that feels overwhelming but pleasantly nice. god, his tongue. san doesn’t hold back. he licks, teases, and hums low against your cunt, as he whimpers, while his tongue plunges deeper. “so perfect, ah– so sweet too.”
you’re trembling, thighs clamping around his head, your hand grips his hair, your hips bucking involuntarily, and he just keeps going, whispering filthy praises every second, accompanied by whimpers and groans. he is literally slurping, mouth and tongue impossible to stop because you are just so delicious, leaving no other way for him but to give in to the temptation to devour you all.
“that’s it, yeah? that’s my good girl… come on, let it all out for me,” his voice is low, and teasing all at once. then it happens. your breathing goes rigid, stomach twists, and your walls clench, pussy gushing over his tongue, spurting uncontrollably as your legs tremble, back arching, making wooyoung drag you back until you hit his chest.
“angel,” san groans, licking up every drop, chuckling against your skin, “look at you squirting for me… making such a mess.” he doesn’t stop moving his fingers and tongue, coaxing out every last drop, because he didn't expect you to squirt instead of just orgasm like normally… he is not complaining, not even a bit. you were already a hot mess, and san couldn’t pretend that you weren’t ready for him at this point.
maybe the cookies weren’t such a bad idea after all. or whatever they stirred in only made this inevitable heightened desire, the kind of want that makes them both cherish you and completely ruin you.
there’s a strange tug-of-war happening inside you. the weed wants you calm, to drift away, pulling you downward into something soft and floaty, like sitting on a cloud or melting inside a cotton candy. it hushes the noise in your head, tells you everything is fine, and you are fully relaxed.
the aphrodisiac does the opposite.
it lights you up from the inside, sparks racing under your skin and it's spreading fast. your body feels like it’s moving a second ahead of your thoughts, responding before you can decide anything. you’re aware of it, at some point, you think you are. it’s confusing and intoxicating, like being set on fire, but it doesn’t hurt at all, because you want to seek the warmth a little bit more.
and then there’s san. his presence alone makes you want to squirt again with the way he focuses on you, so devoted when every movement of his mouth makes you ache in places you can’t even name properly. thoughts scattering like puzzle pieces, and you can’t focus on anything, because it’s like you are hanging upside down, all the blood going directly to flush your face.
wooyoung is everywhere else. hands firm, teeth grazing, reminding you that everything is indeed real and not some wet dream or a figment of your imagination. his touch keeps you from floating away entirely, even as your head feels light and as if you have no thoughts behind those eyes, you know one thing for sure.
you love them — the realization is simple, stripped of overthinking. love in a way that feels consuming and addictive. you don’t know where the line is anymore, between friendship and this rather strange relationship: friends, best friends, maybe… soulmates, if you believed in something that big and unexplainable.
when they praise you, the obsession you pretend isn’t there, hits you straight to the core.
baby, one of them murmurs, doll, the other follows. angel, princess, pretty girl, dove, bunny, sweet thing. each petname is reserved only for you, sending little shocks to both your body and brain. it makes your chest ache, your eyes sting faintly, as you might cry just from being seen, loved and desired all at once.
feeling like you’re in outer space, glowing like the brightest star, as if nothing exists beyond their bodies and voices, that can either make you shine even more, or suck you like a supermassive black hole. and you don’t know what this makes you, just some girl with bad habits, or what it makes them; however, all you know is you never want it to stop.
your thoughts are still high in the endless vast sky when san finally pulls back. heavy breaths, lips still coated with the essence of you, as he settles beside you, shoulder brushing yours, staring up at the ceiling, needing a second to come back to himself. his hand doesn’t let go, though; it’s possessively gripping your thigh, thumb pressing at your still trembling body. the weed keeps whispering slow down, but your suddenly spiked up libido refuses to listen.
you are needy, extremely needy, that you don't even know what to do, think, or say. should you cry or laugh? shaking all over, feeling the wetness under you on the soft cushion… did you make this mess?
for some reason, you wanted to cry — not because you disliked it, but because the feeling swelled up from somewhere deep inside, overwhelming you with nothing at all, and the show hasn’t even started yet.
wooyoung raises his eyebrow at you and how you’re suddenly zoning out with those pretty dilated eyes of yours, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. poor angel, he thinks, you're so sweet and beautiful that he can't wait to ruin you. he shifts closer, knowing exactly what he’s doing, by wasting time with this mindless toying, watching you squirm and whimper without meaning to.
“feeling needy?” he sweetly asks, as you nod, turning slightly to him to nuzzle your head in his shoulder. cheeks burning, because you need more than being toyed with, more than the slow build that’s driving you out of your mind.
“look at you,” twirling a lock of your hair between his fingers. “so pretty when you’re like this.” the way he says it makes something snap in you when your own hand goes to clutch at his shirt without thinking, “woo, please…”
he tilts his head instead, looking down at you with almost apologetic eyes when it was nothing but a mocking stare. “hmm?” humming at the sound of you and how desperate you are. “what was that, princess?”
shaking your head, embarrassed by how badly you want him to do something, anything but his wandering fingers. “woo… i–”
“no,” he cuts in, fingers tightly pulling the locks he just twirled, and it didn't hurt, but it made you hide your face entirely, “come on, say it, use that pretty mouth of yours.”
you swallow, heart is pounding so loud you’re sure they can hear it. “please…” the word comes out shaky like you are begging for mercy, but oh dear angel, the fun part hasn't started for you to beg like this.
wooyoung leans in closer, his lips brushing your temple, leaving a quick kiss. “please, what?”
“please…" he makes a quiet, pleased sound, dragging the moment out on purpose, letting you sit in the want until it’s only him you can think about. "i want you,” his hand never stops pulling your hair, gently of course, but he will get to the point of being the meanie he is, reminding you exactly how little control you have right now.
“again,” he murmurs. “tell me what you want, don’t be shy… we are here to make you feel good, alright?
"please," each repetition of the words please strips you down further. "please, woo, i need you, i-i just..." your voice gets softer and needier, just the truth spilling out of you. san is at your right, as you didn’t even notice when his hand went up, fingers playing with your clit, massaging and toying with it, and you can only feel even more ashamed that you were so open for them.
wooyoung is closer to your upper body, and you turn into him instinctively, face still tucked into his shoulder, as your hands move on their own, drifting downward his body, finding what you were looking for without having to search.
“yeah,” his voice low and teasing, almost cooing, as you even turned to him with wide eyes as if you were feeling him for the first time, “of course i am hard, baby… how can i not be?”
he’s entertained by how obvious it all is. really how could he not be, when it’s you? when you’re like this — pretty, horny, exposed, pressed between them. his hand comes up to your back, fingers caressing your spine as you shiver slightly, keeping you right where he wants you.
“our pretty doll,” he adds, mockingly gentle. you don’t even realize when san’s touch changes when he starts pumping slowly with two of his fingers, it pulls a quiet moan from you, and you try to hide by biting your lips, embarrassed by how easily you react. your legs are shaking, you're even more aroused, and you don't just want their fingers and mouths. you want the real sweet pink lollipops.
wooyoung notices the way you shake, how tears start to slide down your cheeks, and his hand slides up, fingers tilting your chin so that he can murmur against your mouth. “listen to yourself,” he pecks your lips, “it sounds even sweeter when you don't know what to say or do. isn't that right, san, don't you agree?”
between them, there’s no sense of being used, because they don’t take from you… they share you.
some days it’ll be just san, leaving you glowing and aching for hours. other days it’ll be wooyoung, all teasing smiles, watching the way you wobble afterward. and sometimes, like tonight, it’ll be both of them: messy and too much into it.
they spoil you like a princess, and ruin you like a slut.
san is somewhere else entirely. all he can think about is being inside you too, so while you weren’t looking, being distracted by wooyoung, who loved teasing and edging you… he’d been stroking himself, fingers slipping between your thighs at the same time. he’s leaking, fully hard, pre-cum sliding down his tip as he whimpers, cheeks flushing red and warm, answering only with a breathless:
“hah– yeah… yeah, i uh– what was the question again?”
wooyoung chuckles, turning toward his friend just in time to catch him with his cock out, then his gaze drops to you, eyes fluttering shut at the way san’s fingers work you, lips parting as you unconsciously lick them. that’s when wooyoung decides he’s done waiting.
“san,” saying calmly to his best friend, “just fuck her.” it’s not advice or a suggestion, it’s an order. between the three of you, he’s the control freak, the ringleader if anyone had to be given a role. then his attention shifts back to you, fingers already pulling your hands away from his pants.
“as for you, my pretty girl,” he adds, smiling wickedly at you, “i’ll find a good use for that mouth. just don’t try to choke, yeah?”
the zipper comes down as you watch the black denim pools at his feet, leaving him in boxers darkened with damp stains. he catches you staring, clicks his tongue, tells you to behave “eyes up,” and your gaze meets his. he’s about to explain the position he wants when san beats him to it.
suddenly you’re on all fours on the couch. san is right behind you, his cock presses against your soaked entrance. you swallow hard, breath catching, only to lift your head and find wooyoung right there — his length waiting at your lips.
san is slowly fucking you from behind, hands settling firm on your waist, your back arches instinctively, offering him everything, and the sight of your ass: plush, plump, bouncing every time he draws back, has him biting his lip hard. he has always been an ass guy, and always will be. “fuck…” he breathes, voice wrecked already, thumbs digging in to leave marks.
he doesn’t push all the way in at once; rolling his hips forward carefully, stretching you slowly, letting you feel every part as you clench around him, when he finds a rhythm that makes your eyes roll.
“you’re doing so good, angel,” grunting and growling, letting his breathy deep voice come to life. “so pretty like this… taking me so well.” your answer is a broken moan, walls fluttering around him, and he can’t help the soft whimper that slips out when you squeeze him even thighter, the sound of skin slapping making you think about how it’s been too long. you can feel it in the way he tries to find a pace, because it’s been what… four months, maybe? long enough that this feels like a reunion.
and then there’s wooyoung. you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes, lips parted and glossy, and he groans quietly as his hand tightens around his flushed cock, pressing the heaviness of it against your mouth, smirking down at you like he already knows you’ll take it all.
“look at you,” he scoffs softly. “open wide, princess.”
and you do, because being stretched open is the thing you are phenomenal at, best of the best.
he slides in, just the tip at first, dragging it slowly across your tongue, letting you adjust to it. “that’s it,” he mutters, thumb brushing your cheek when you relax your jaw. “good girl. you’re really made for this, huh?”
pushing a little deeper, watching your throat work as you take him, wet sounds filling the room. “don’t get shy now. you’re so good at being used.” behind you, san groans your name, throwing his head back, hips slamming hard when he feels the way you squeeze him while reacting to wooyoung’s voice.
“she’s so… beautiful,” san whispers, fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin even as he starts to thrust more firmly. “taking both of us like this… god, baby, you’re perfect.”
your moans turn muffled around wooyoung, drool slicking his cock as he guides your head, hand gripping your hair for better control of your movements, “yeah,” a low praiseful whisper, fingers dining into your hair, “just like that, don’t think about anything else.”
san’s cock hammers into you from behind, hips rolling harder, pulling you against him as his hands grip your waist tight. every curve of your ass makes him bite his lip, low groans rattling out, “fuck… so tight…” he’s praising as he slams into you deeper and faster, loving the way your gummy walls love him. every moan that spills from your lips has him whimpering with you.
at the same time, wooyoung’s cock stretches your mouth wide, tip pressing past your gag reflex, making you cough and choke slightly. drool and saliva slide down your chin, your palms dig into the soft couch cushions, knees braced, tears spilling freely down your cheeks as you try to catch a breath.
“don’t start with your crocodile tears, you’re not fooling anyone,” wooyoung snaps, tugging your hair with one hand, while the other has his thumb pressing against your chin to keep your mouth open. “i won’t slow down just because you can’t take it… like you’ve never sucked a dick before.”
you’re not faking it; your body genuinely can’t handle it. he doesn’t like hesitation, and that just makes him smirk cruelly, pushing deeper, head brushing the back of your throat. “doll, don’t pretend you don’t want it.” his tone is so devilish, “it’s not every day i feel generous enough to give it to you directly instead of teasing.”
eyes rolling at the overwhelming sensations, at the slick heat filling both your pussy and your mouth. san’s thrusts are needy and hard, pounding into you with heavy sounds of skin slapping. wooyoung’s words sting even as he praises you, and it’s too much, making every nerve scream. you want more, crave both of them at once, but your mouth is already full, and your body is shaking from overstimulation.
san groans your name, your back arching, thrusts growing desperate. “(name)… baby, i–” he chokes out just before spilling inside you in thick, hot waves. your mouth freezes mid-suck around wooyoung as you squeeze san, pussy clenching him deeper, milking him as he moans, whimpers, whines through the pleasure, slowly fucking his cum in you.
wooyoung doesn’t like that — doesn’t like when you slow down or stop. his grip on your hair is tightening, cock twitching violently. “hey, hey,” he hisses, “you’re not done with me, little whore. you don’t get to stop just because he came inside you. open up.”
he pushes forward, pressing even harder against your throat, making your gag reflex spike, and the room fills with your muffled whines, moans, and the wet slaps of two cocks at once.
everywhere you feel it: inside, dripping on your legs, and on your tongue. you’re overstimulated, crying, whining, clenching, and still craving both of them. being used exactly like this, at their complete mercy, it’s too much, but you can’t stop, and neither of them wants you to.
san doesn’t pull out, not even after you’ve milked him dry. his hands stay firm on your hips, cock still buried deep, because your pussy feels too good to leave just yet. “look at you,” he pants softly, can’t get enough of the sight. “squeezing me like that.”
your body follows him with another broken cry spilling out as you come with him. slick heat dripping down your thighs while he slowly fucks his cum into you, shuddering through whimpers, staying buried in you.
wooyoung doesn’t have that patience. he’s already close, the grip tightening in your hair as he starts fucking your mouth again, meaner now. you choke, cough around him, tears still spilling, and he laughs under his breath. “aren't you a pathetic little thing?”
his thrusts slow suddenly, until only the tip of his cock presses past your lips. you barely have time to register it before he groans, cumming straight into your mouth. it spills thick and warm, hitting your tongue, your lips, dripping down your chin and onto the couch. he watches proudly of the mess you make. you try to pull back, just a little, however, he doesn’t let you.
“don’t you dare…you don’t spit,” wooyoung growls, fingers pushing under your chin, cockhead nudging your lips. he stuffs it back into your mouth, making sure you swallow every bit. “good, that’s it. take it.”
you’re too fucked out to fight him and be a brat, overstimulated, tears still sliding as you swallow, and it feels humiliating and too much all at once.
he finally pulls out, stroking himself lazily while still slick with his release, smearing it over his hand, adding to the mess already ruined on the couch. you sob openly now, choking on broken sounds, body trembling. wooyoung’s hand shifts from your hair to gentle strokes, fingers combing through slowly, almost tender. san’s hands follow suit, rubbing soothing paths over your hips and spine.
that’s when you choke out, his cum still dripping out from your lips as you wipe with your hand, “m-more… i want more, p-please, i–”
they look at each other, because you really want more? usually that’s it, they both cum, and so do you, cuddles and aftercare follow. san’s about to ask you if you could really handle more because look at you… you're like a wounded rabbit, you can't move, you just tremble. with two bullets, they killed you good.
when wooyoung’s phone buzzes on the table, face down, it breaks all three of you from the trance, finally taking a breather, when san asks, still gently caressing your body to calm you down. “who is it?”
wooyoung scoffs. “don’t fucking care. probably yeonjun or changbin wanting me to give ‘em weed.”
he ignores it, doesn't want anyone to ruin the mood, since your body is still clenching around san. wooyoung exhales slowly, as he looks back at you, then at his best friend. “sannie” casually asks, “you wanna be under her?”
the man blinks, ready to open his mouth and say okay, and the other just smirks. “i’ll take care of her, don’t worry. i’ll be gentle, but no promises~”
the three of you already know what it means. san has to pull out, and even as he does, he murmurs promises, telling you he’ll be back inside you before you can even miss him. wooyoung makes him guide you instead, watching closely, eyes never leaving you for a second.
san pauses, holding your hand as you sit at the edge of the couch, having already switched places with the other stoner. “do i really need to lie down?” he asks, glancing at the mess. “it’s all dirty…”
wooyoung pulls his sweatshirt over his head, as he shoots a look to his friend, “you’ve got a shirt on. what’s the problem?”
san exhales, flustered. “i– nevermind then…” then his voice softens, sweet again when he looks at you. “(name), princess… come here.” that gentle tone makes you always follow without thinking.
you do exactly that, letting him guide you as you line yourself up again, sinking slowly onto his thick cock, until you’re seated fully, then lying back, feeling his toned body on your back even through the fabric. “good,” san breathes, arms wrapping around you. “that’s it, baby. so good, mm?”
you nod against his shoulder, when one of his hands slips up to your chest, squeezing your tits briefly before both hands move to your thighs, opening you wider for wooyoung.
when you finally lift your eyes to him, really look, your gaze softens despite everything. he’s beautiful too — toned, veins standing out, tattoos stark against his skin: the rose on his forearm, the latin quote along his ribs, the others you know by memory, tho you can’t see the matching one he has with san. his abs, his v-line, it makes you wet all over again.
“angel,” wooyoung says softly for once, “want you focused.”
dropping to his knees, the couch dipping under his weight as he lines himself up. you maintain eye contact, even when he hisses under his breath, cursing quietly because san’s girth already fills you so much there’s barely any room left.
but it’s fine. you’ve done this before, more than once. third time now, right? they say the third time is the charm.
your pussy is swollen, sensitive, still warm from before, but you stay open, and obedient. they’ll be gentle, at least… one promised so, you are worried about the other.
wooyoung finally slides inside you, and you scream at the stretch of it: too full with two cocks inside you at once. your body trembles, breath breaking as they start to rock into you together, slow at first, letting you adjust. your hands try to hold your legs open, but give up quickly.
the man above is already gripping one of your legs high up, holding you open as san mirrors him, his left hand spreading your other thigh while his right slides down your waist, fingers finding your clit. the touch pulls a sharp moan from you, blessing their ears, eyes and souls.
“woo… san– fuck, ah–” you chant their names, the only other words you know besided more and please. you are surely under some kind of spell, but the truth is, you are under some substances that you will definitely try out again.
san watches over your shoulder, breath hitching at the sight of him and his best friend inside you, making your body give out even as you take it. “such a good girl,” he murmurs, because you always take it, even if you think you can’t.
wooyoung tightens his grip, opening you wider, forcing you to take them deeper. you hiss at the burn, eyes squeezing shut; however, the pleasure crashes over it immediately, and it’s so overwhelming. “yeah,” a breathy grunt coming from him, “that’s it, pretty. keep saying our names like that.”
and you do, again and again, orgasm after orgasm, all night long. maybe you are a greedy little whore — because you let two men fuck you at the same damn time and you keep asking for more. wooyoung stays gentle only for so long before his thrusts grow rougher, more demanding, while san stays slower beneath you, forced to match what your body can take.
the sounds take over with the skin slapping, balls hitting, wet and obscene, when your moans mix with soft whines. then again, the phone couldn't stop ringing, but he ignored it, not now, he thinks to whoever decided to call him. san grunts and whimpers under you, fingers never leaving your clit, while wooyoung just groans low and deep, hips snapping harder. both of them praise you, voices overlapping, each trying to outdo the other, both in words and in how deep they push.
“i need to… woo, s-san please... ngh–” they both know what you need.
you’re already right there, their cocks leaking, heads pushing deeper as they pick up the pace just enough. then it hits you, hard and sudden, a blissful wave tearing through you, soaking their lengths as your body clenches uncontrollably.
wooyoung comes first, much to everyone’s surprise, cursing under his breath as he spills inside you. san follows moments later, fingers still working your clit until he finally grabs your waist, holding you down as he empties himself too.
you’re wrecked and completely full.
wooyoung doesn’t soften completely after, but the praise doesn’t stop. “that’s it, baby,” a little rough even as his hands steady you. his thumb presses lightly into your thigh as san continues, “easy now… we're so proud of you.”
they stay inside you until there’s nothing left to give, both of them shuddering through the last of it before slowly pulling out. san lifts you carefully as he helps you sit up. you hiss from the impact, lungs struggling to pull in air, body ruined in the most beautiful way, eyes are glossy from crying, and you don’t even know where you are anymore.
it’s warm, their release spills out of you in slow, obscene trails, dripping down your thighs. it’s so much that it almost makes you dizzy. they’ve never cummed like that before, never ever you have seen so much cum in your life or felt it in you.
and then they’re there again next to your sides, hands brushing hair off your forehead, thumbs wiping tears from your cheeks. kisses pressed softly to your shoulders, collarbone, and your face. san murmurs about a bath, clean clothes, and being tucked in bed. all the care and tenderness you’ve earned.
they’ll take care of you because their pretty doll always knows how to offer her heart, body and soul.
you don’t hear them talking over you, because you’re already halfway asleep.
“i’ll go prepare the shower,” san says, standing and stretching, and then it hits you that you are all butt-naked. “you get towels from her room.”
you sway slightly where you sit, exhausted beyond thought. wooyoung stays close, arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you into him. water starting moments later, and you hear the sound, it’s a little calming actually. you’re exhausted, and for half a second, you smile and wonder about shower sex.
wooyoung reads your thoughts because he knows what that sleepy smile of yours is about. “angel,” he says, pulling you gently against his side, arm around your shoulders. “as much as i want to… no more sex tonight.”
you hum instead of answering, eyes sliding shut, listening to the water run. “sorry for being mean,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, then another. “but i know you like it.”
after that, everything is warm water and gentle hands. you’re clean, wrapped in a fluffy towel, skin smelling like coconut and orchids. wooyoung dries your hair carefully, fingers gentle even as the dryer hums, while san prepares your bed by straightening sheets, making space for your plushies where you like them when you sleep.
they dress you in fresh panties and an oversized shirt, guiding you until you’re tucked in, plushie hugged to your chest. they kiss you goodnight, eyes, nose, lips as you murmur, “i love you,” and they say it back without hesitation. "we love you too, doll."
then your best friends leave you to rest and return to the living room that still smells like sex. the couch can wait to be cleaned; towels are thrown over it for now. they’ve showered too, changed clothes, and are playing something quietly on the tv not disturb you.
because monsters or not when they fuck you, aftercare is a must.
already sitting side by side, the half-lit joint from earlier rests between wooyoung’s fingers. he finally takes a drag and offers it to san, who hesitates before accepting, smoke curling lazily between them. only then does wooyoung finally check his phone.
“shit.”
“oh,” san frowns at his own screen. “looks like i’ve been spammed too.”
your phone lies abandoned on the table, and they pick it up, curiosity getting the better of them. when they unlock it, the screen floods with notifications and missed calls, far worse than theirs. they exchange a glance, the same thought settling between them without a word.
how the hell are they supposed to explain to your boyfriend, yunho, that some addictions you just can't quit?
the way san keeps whispering something we can't hear right before he kisses wooyoung's cheek. the softer way he says "bite size" the second time. the little hitch in wooyoung's breath and the smile after. the easiness with which they tease each other. do they realise i'm clinically insane
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