Title: The Canvas of Your Skin
Pairing: Royal AU!Prince Hyunjin x Fem!reader (no y/n)
Rating: mature for now, explicit later 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!
Fic Summary: Being the Apprentice to the official Court Painter for the Royal Hwang family was considered one of the highest honors for an artist in the entire kingdom. One that you took very seriously despite the fact that your Master was often bossy, demanding, and rude. Still, it was a position you had fought tooth and nail for, and one that you would never dream of giving up. That was until you were unexpectedly tasked with painting Prince Hyunjin's official portrait. He was arguably the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on, let alone immortalized on a canvas. Too bad he was also the most arrogant, self absorbed, peacock of a man who seemed hellbent on making your life a living hell just because he could- one agonizingly tension filled portrait session at a time.
Warnings: swearing, alcohol use, hyunjin is rude as hell and a major asshole
Word Count: 4.8k
A/N: tysm to everyone who read the first chapter :') i wanted to get the second one up and posted before the holiday next week since i probably won't have time to get any writing/editing done until after thanksgiving. hope y'all enjoy <3
xoxo bee
ps- as always apologies for any typos/grammatical errors. i'm my one and only editor and admittedly i don't always find my mistakes right away, so if you see any changes made after the fact no you didn't lol AO3 link here
previous chapter here
CHAPTER TWO
The silence that filled the drawing room was almost suffocating.
Neither you nor Hyunjin had yet to speak a single word to one another. Your silence was born from uncertainty, feeling unsure of what you could possibly say to him after the tense staredown you’d been engaged in with the prince ever since he had entered the room. You assumed Hyunjin remained silent because he probably didn’t think you were worthy of wasting the breath it would take to so much as huff at you in annoyance. Instead he merely turned away from you, and slowly sauntered his way over to the table that housed the silver water pitcher and-
Ah.
He was going for the crystal wine decanter just as you had predicted.
You watched him intently as he poured himself a very generous glass of wine, admiring the new angle of his face he had presented you with, fascinated with the sharpness of his jaw and the straightness of his nose and how you could still see the fullness of his lips. Despite the tense energy between the two of you that had felt more like a silent standoff between old rivals rather than a cordial introduction between ruler and subject, the artist in you was practically vibrating with excitement over the fact that you were going to spend the next hour or so getting to sketch someone as beautiful as Hyunjin.
‘Shit,’ you thought. ‘I still need to sketch him. Which means I need to tell him to go sit in the chair by the window. Should I ask him or tell him? Fuck, why am I making such a big deal about this…’
Hyunjin didn’t seem to even care that you were in the same room with him anymore, if anything he seemed much more invested in his glass of wine, and you watched as he tilted his elegant head back and proceeded to drain almost half the glass in two large sips like it was water.
You hated how transfixed you were by the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“So,” a soft and slightly raspy voice filled the silence of the room. “You’re the little apprentice.”
Hyunjin’s voice wasn’t what you expected. It was quiet, melodic almost, and every word felt like it had a slight caressing edge to it. You could tell the question he had just asked you was rhetorical, his cool tone was laced with boredom, almost like he was forcing himself to finally acknowledge you with words.
“Yes, I am the Royal Court Painter’s apprentice," you said, bristling slightly in annoyance over how he’d just called you ‘little’ like you were some child or something less than what you were. “My name is-”
Hyunjin waved a dismissive hand in your direction, cutting you off before raising the wine glass back up to his infuriatingly pillow soft looking lips to gulp down more of his wine. “Don’t care, didn’t ask” he muttered into the fine crystal.
Oh, so it was going to be like that.
You felt your face contort into a look of mild disgust at the prince’s behavior as you watched him reach for the decanter once again so he could top off his wine glass. He was rude. Rude, and an absolute lush by the look of it. The thin arms of the clock on the fireplace mantle read that it was a quarter past noon, which meant that in the span of roughly fifteen minutes since meeting him, Hyunjin had already helped himself to nearly half the decanter full of wine and didn’t seem like he planned on stopping anytime soon. That also meant you were down fifteen minutes to do what you had come to the palace for. You needed to regain control of the situation immediately.
Though you weren’t sure you had been in control of it at all to begin with.
“Your highness,” you said in the politest tone you could muster, “If you would be so kind as to-” but Hyunjin was already walking away from you, his movements so graceful and effortless it was almost like he was floating on his silent dancer’s feet towards the armchair where you had set up your makeshift work station.
“Sit in that big ugly chair by the window?” he interrupted as you glared daggers into his back, lost in the way his broad shoulders looked underneath the rich fabric of his velvet coat that was expertly tailored to his long frame. You could already tell you were probably going to break at least one pencil while sketching him from the force of which you were going to drag the lead against the paper of your sketch pad. How someone you’d only just met could also be the most irritating person you’d ever known in your life was beyond you.
Hyunjin reached the armchair quickly, his long legs carrying him across the room in just a few strides, and then he rather unceremoniously sat down in it. The wood groaned ever so slightly under his sudden weight as he lazily sank into the cushiony softness of the velvet upholstery. He didn’t bother to gather himself to sit up properly in the chair, instead he remained slumped down in it, long legs spread wide open, one arm lazily draped on an armrest, his wine glass dangling from his slender hand over the edge. The other was tucked up in a fist supporting his chin as he stared at you with a look of equal parts boredom and expectation.
It was aggravating how good he looked despite his haughty and disrespectful posture.
“Well,” he said. “Are you going to do what you came here for, or are you going to stand there gawking at me like an imbecile?”
Ohhhhhh, what an ass.
“I wasn’t gawking, your highness,” you countered. “I was merely studying your features. That’s a crucial part of my job.”
“Are you sure you’re not just using that as an excuse so you can wantonly stare at me?” he challenged with an arrogant smirk.
You bit the inside of your cheek in annoyance, and resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the prince.
“Again, studying my subjects is part of what I do. My apologies if it offended you in any way, your highness. But it’s what’s required of me and my duties and why I'm here today.”
“Well then,” Hyunjin said, the corners of his mouth once again curling up into that cruel smile he seemed to so casually slip on at the drop of a hat. “Why don’t you get over here and do your job. I don’t have all day.”
If he had been anyone else, you would’ve told him to go and fuck himself and cancelled the session entirely. But he wasn’t just anyone else, he was the prince, which meant you had no choice but to silently take his rudeness and his venom and pretend that he wasn’t the most maddeningly unpleasant man you had ever had the misfortune of encountering. So you kept your thoughts to yourself, and hoped your face was impassive enough to hide your growing displeasure with the prince as you stepped up to your easel, took a deep breath, picked up one of your pencils, and began to sketch Hyunjin.
Thankfully you were able to work in silence, your eyes flickering back and forth between the prince’s figure and your sketch pad as you began filling the blank page with his image. While Hyunjin’s posture wasn’t ideal with how he was slumped down in the armchair, you were still able to get a proper view of his face and all of its stunning features. You didn’t even need to ask him to move for you, because with the instincts of someone who was born with great beauty and knew how to use it to his advantage, every so often Hyunjin would slightly reposition his head or his shoulders changing the perspective of his body and his proportions so you could get a different angle of him to sketch out. The only sounds in the room came from the gentle scratching of your pencil against the paper of your sketch pad, and the ripping of you tearing a sheet out to set on the table next to you.
Hyunjin could’ve been a living statue for all you knew. Despite the subtle movements he would make to change poses ever so slightly, he was so still. The only time he really bothered to move was to raise his glass to his mouth to take a sip of wine. And then again when he finally decided to sit up just a little straighter in the chair and cross one long leg over the other. Shifting his shoulders with a low groan that you found yourself playing back over and over again in your head against your wishes.
You wondered if the chair you had chosen was actually uncomfortable, and for a second you thought about offering him a different place to sit- not that he deserved it. But then a soft patch of sunlight shone through the window and bathed the prince in warm golden rays, and he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, exposing the long column of his throat to you. The faintest of genuine and content smiles appeared on his face as he basked in the afternoon sun like a cat.
You immediately ripped your way to a fresh page in your sketch pad so you could capture this new pose. It definitely wouldn't be the one your Master would choose for the portrait, but still you couldn’t resist drawing every single angle you could feast your eyes on when it came to Hyunjin.
You allowed yourself to get completely lost in your sketching, admiring all of the little physical details that only added to Hyunjin’s beauty. Like his strong brows and the way his long lashes hit the tops of his high cheek bones, and that he had another prominent mole that lived on the right side of his long and graceful neck. And that the thick locks of his wavy black hair were actually a rich chocolatey brown in the sunshine. He was an absolute dream of a man, physically at least. Despite his foul personality, he truly was the most beautiful person you’d ever laid eyes on, and you had no doubt that any artist living or dead, would do just about anything to have even a moment to draw or paint or sculpt his likeness.
And he was even more beautiful when he wasn’t being an antagonistic little shit.
You thought maybe the prince had fallen asleep from lazing about in the sun, its gentle comfort lulling him into blissful unconsciousness since he hadn’t so much as twitched a muscle in quite a while. The warmth from its light seemed to only further intensify the potency of his perfume, because every time you took a breath you could practically taste the soft floral notes that filled your nose. He smelled like a rose garden and something deeper, rich, and distinctly masculine.
“So,” Hyunjin’s voice softly called out to you, breaking your concentration. “How does someone like you become the apprentice to one of the greatest living artists in the kingdom?”
You tore your eyes from your sketch pad and glanced in Hyunjin’s direction. His head was still tilted against the high back of the armchair and his eyes were open once more, though not entirely. But the intensity of his gaze as he stared at you though lazy half lidded eyes had you on edge all over again. For once he had tossed a question your way that wasn’t rhetorical, and you could tell he was expecting an immediate answer.
Too bad your pre-existing irritation with the prince got the best of you when it came to your response.
“What exactly do you mean ‘someone like me’?”
There was a palpable shift in the atmosphere of the room at your words. The prince’s eyes opened fully, his gaze alert and cold, and the lazy smile he’d been wearing thanks to his brief sunbathing session faded from his face just as a patch of clouds covered the sun he had been lounging in. His mood noticeably changing just as quickly as the weather outside. He straightened up to his full height for the first time since sitting in the chair and stared you down with something akin to animosity.
“Your highness,” he said in a quiet, yet deadly tone.
“What?” you asked, and that same cruel smile that seemed to be a favorite of Hyunjin’s once again took over his face at your bewilderment.
“‘What exactly do you mean someone like me, your highness,’” he parroted your question with an authoritative air, purposefully annunciating every syllable in the last two words like he was teaching a toddler how to speak. “Remember who you’re speaking to, little painter girl.”
“Sorry,” you said, though your apology was far from genuine given the fact the prince had once again addressed you as ‘little’, saying that one word in a way that was so condescending even your Master would’ve been taken aback. Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed in warning, and you made sure to turn your face so it was hidden behind your sketch pad so you could roll your own before you muttered out a barely audible “your highness” in a half assed attempt to appease the prince who sat before you.
The briefest moment of silence passed by, and you did your best to focus on your sketching as well as trying to calm the increasingly sporadic beating of your heart. You cast a quick glance over to the clock on the fireplace and saw that thankfully a little over an hour had already passed which meant you could easily call it a day and get away from Hyunjin right now if you wanted…
Not that you wanted to give him that much power over you. He didn’t deserve to drive you away when you had been sent here to do a job, arguably the most important one you had ever been tasked with by your Master. Though now a tiny part of you was wondering if he had passed this initial sketching session with the prince onto you so it would be one less afternoon he’d have to spend dealing with Hyunjin’s unpleasant behavior and cutting remarks.
“Well?” the prince’s voice cut through the room.
You sighed, not particularly excited about the idea of having a full conversation of any sort with His Royal Pain in Your Ass, considering his snide attitude and genuine inability to be even remotely civil to you for whatever reason.
“Well,” you cleared your throat. “Seven years ago my Master announced he was accepting applications for an Apprentice, so I sent him my portfolio and a letter-”
Hyunjin let out a loud and painfully exaggerated sigh, and you closed your eyes and forced yourself to take a deep breath so as not to hiss at him in exasperation for interrupting you yet again.
“I’m well aware about the official application process for the apprenticeship,” he drawled out as he swirled the glass of wine in his hand. “It hasn’t changed much in the past couple hundred or so years since the inception of the position.”
“Well your highness, what exactly did you want to know?” you asked, allowing yourself a moment to pause your sketching and look at him, resisting the urge to flinch at his piercing gaze that was still hyperfocused on you. There wasn’t an ounce of mock politeness anywhere on his beautiful face anymore. He almost looked angry that you weren’t reacting the way he had been expecting you to.
But you had never been one for being meek. If anything you were stubborn and even combative at times, two of your less than desirable or appreciated characteristics according to your Master. And despite his numerous verbal warnings over the years at you to keep your manners in check, and even the occasional smack upside the head he had given you in the beginning of your apprenticeship, to this day you still were not one to back down and make yourself small.
Apparently that behavior now applied to royalty as well.
“Well,” Hyunjin finally said, slightly raising one of his thick black eyebrows, as he once again dragged his cold gaze down the length of your body. “I mean have you looked at yourself?”
You bristled at the prince’s words and tried your hardest not to let them burrow too deeply under your skin. You had already been fighting the little voice in your head ever since you’d walked into the drawing room that kept whispering to you that you were painfully out of place. Between the high arched ceiling and ornately carved wooden paneling with the lush tapestries that decorated the walls, and the floor to ceiling windows that were covered in sheer satin curtains that pooled along the dark wooden floor like puddles of fresh cream, you had realized very quickly you were not even remotely equipped to be in a room this extravagant.
Let alone dressed nicely enough.
You were also hyperaware that the dress you had chosen to wear today was nothing fancy. While you had felt confident enough in your outfit when you had left the studio earlier, you now found yourself wishing you had instead opted to wear all black like your Master always did. It helped him blend into the background more often than not, while also maintaining an air of confidence and professionalism. Black was decidedly better than looking like the color sky right before it rained on a drabby fall day.
You didn’t know why you were so hung up on your appearance. You knew it partially had to do with nerves- after all, this was your first time meeting a member of the immediate royal family. And while you didn’t necessarily give a shit if Prince Hyunjin actually cared about how you looked, you did care that you made a good impression. Did you look enough like an artist? Or did you look like a servant girl who had wandered off the street and gotten lost on her way to the kitchens or wherever her post was in the sprawling palace he called home?
As you silently battled with the little imposter that lived within you, the one that was now wide awake much to your displeasure, having been goaded into consciousness by Prince Hyunjin’s cruel taunting, you heard him let out a soft chuckle of amusement from his seat. He was obviously feeling victorious since you had yet to give him an actual answer, and you watched as his raised his wineglass to his stupid, pretty mouth and drained its contents before turning his head away to stare out the window, obviously bored with you and the humiliation ritual masked as a conversation you had failed to indulge him in.
You didn’t know what came over you in the next moment, but you knew it came from not wanting Hyunjin to actually think he had any sort of footing over you by being vicious and just downright mean. So you decided to answer his question with the best answer you could think of, the only one really that was worth giving. It was the same answer you had given your Master all those years ago when you stood in the parlor room of his studio for the first time after having passed the first round of the application process, and he asked you why you deserved to be his apprentice.
“Because I’m good at what I do,” you finally answered the prince. “More importantly, because I give a shit about getting better, maybe even better than him one day. That’s why I became his Apprentice.”
You didn’t need to directly look at Hyunjin to see how fast his head swiveled in your direction, and before he had a chance to open his mouth to antagonize you any further, you made sure to throw out a sickly polite “your highness” almost as an afterthought.
There was more to it of course. Like the fact that art was the very reason you woke up every morning. That drawing and painting was what you felt you'd been put on this earth to do. That you were born to create until your dying breath, and then even after you were dead and buried, you would somehow find a way to come back in the next life and do it all over again. That your biggest fear was that if you woke up one day and couldn’t hold a brush again, it would be a fate worse than death.
But you didn’t think Hyunjin would understand or sympathize with your bleeding artist’s heart. Probably because you highly doubted he even had one of his own at this point. And if he did, there probably wasn’t anything in this world that he cared about or loved the way you did art.
Except maybe himself.
You half expected Hyunjin to gleefully continue with your battle of words, but you were surprised and slightly uneasy when instead you saw him rise to his full height from the chair he’d been glowering at and goading you from for what felt like half an eternity at this point. So you watched him with weary eyes as he wordlessly stalked his way over to the small table that was covered in numerous sketches of his face right next to you.
You tried and failed to gauge whatever it was that he was thinking as you watched him survey the sketches that lay before him, but his expression was as impassive as ever and for the life of you, you couldn’t tell what he thought of your work.
He picked up one of the sheets of paper and held it up to inspect it closer, and there was a tightness in his eyes that worried you, but then he smiled and for the briefest of seconds you thought that maybe his opinion of you was going to change after seeing the quality of your work.
“I thought you said you were good.”
What?
“Or did your Master send you off to make a fool of yourself?” Hyunjin asked as turned the paper around so your artwork was facing you, almost as if he was attempting to show a side by side comparison of what he considered to be your subpar attempt at capturing his likeness versus the real thing. “Do you seriously think any of these are truly worthy of a prince?”
Your heart sank into your stomach, and you felt your face flush with heat. A toxic miasma of embarrassment and anger swirled inside of you and it took every ounce of willpower not to rip the paper from Hyunjin’s hand and slap him in the face.
You could feel the special kind of dread that only accompanied something as vulnerable as shame overtake you from the inside out, only this was a different kind of shame you’d never experienced before. Sure there had been many times in your life where you had been scolded by someone. Your parents, a teacher, god knows your Master had done it time and time again. But those scoldings had been done because of something you did. A mistake you had made or a disrespectful tone you had used while addressing someone.
This scolding however was deliberate and cutting, and seemingly done simply because Hyunjin felt like being cruel to you. His cutthroat words that had slithered directly from his plush mouth like a venomous serpent were now constricting around your neck, and it wasn’t because of something you had done, but rather a direct and unprovoked attack on you as a person.
You were being scolded for merely existing. This prince, your prince, seemed to hate you for simply being alive and in his presence. You had done nothing wrong to him except merely show up in his palace to capture his likeness, to literally do a job. And yeah, maybe you had slipped up here and there by forgetting his title, and for refusing to back down from him when he had so obviously been trying to force a reaction from you, but his disdain for you had been apparent even before any of that. Prince Hyunjin had seemingly decided from the very moment he laid eyes on you, that you were someone so inconsequential and unimportant in the grand scheme of things that he needed you to know just how little he thought of you.
What a miserable fucking bastard.
You refused to allow him the pleasure of seeing just how deeply his words had wounded you. Instead you clenched your jaw, and gripped the pencil in your hand so tightly that you could feel it crack against your palm.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
The words tumbled out of your mouth before you even had a chance to second guess yourself, but you knew you had to say something, anything to make it seem like you were unaffected by the prince and his casual cruelty. You saw the faintest of changes in his body posture in response, the ever so slight tensing of his shoulders, and what might’ve even been a grimace that overtook his face for the briefest of moments before he reverted back to the cool indifference of a man who knew he had the entire world at his fingertips, which meant he could behave like a giant fucking bully just because.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?’ Hyunjin asked, obviously still trying to get you to submit to him by reminding you that you had once again forgotten to address him properly.
“No, I don't think so,” you replied right as the clock on the mantle chimed that it was now half past one, which meant you had spent more than enough with him in your eyes. “In fact I think we’re done here.”
I'm done with you.
You wordlessly began to pack up your supplies, tossing your pencils and unused charcoals in your messenger bag before gathering up all of your loose sketches of Hyunjin that were laid out on the table, not even bothering to look at the dozens of drawings you’d produced of his perfect, beautiful face, before sliding them haphazardly back in your sketch pad and tucking both it and the easel under your arm.
You could feel the prince’s displeasure rippling off of his body in waves, and when you finally turned around to look at him one last time, you saw that his face was no longer wearing that calm and collected expression of impassive boredom. Instead he was a glowering mess of pure frustration with the faintest traces of rage simmering just below the surface.
And yet somehow, even in all of his anger and hatred of you, he was still one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen.
It made you fucking sick.
And so, still refusing to call him by his title, or to waste another word on him at all, you decided at the very least to show your appreciation to the prince for allowing you to waste part of your afternoon in his repulsive presence with the most sarcastic and disingenuous bow you could possibly give. One that a court jester might give a king, your own glaring eyes never once leaving his stormy face.
Your actions only seemed to piss Hyunjin off even more and when his beautifully cruel mouth contorted into a full on scowl, you merely smirked up at him before returning to your full height, and then you turned on your heel and stormed over to the hidden door in the wall you had arrived through.
By some miracle you were able to open it without embarrassing yourself and you didn’t even bother to spare Prince Hyunjin a single parting glance over your shoulder as you stepped into the servant’s hall shutting the door behind you. Your heart pounded with every step you took back down the winding corridor you had walked through earlier, and when you passed by a maid carrying an armful of linens you breathlessly asked her to please pass along a message to the head butler that your session with the prince had ended early and you wouldn’t require an escort after all.
It wasn't until you had finally exited the palace grounds and began your walk back towards the Art District and the safety and comfort of your own home that you allowed yourself to finally unleash the full scope of your own formidable temper and wounded ego to fully consume you.
You were truly disappointed to have learned that Prince Hyunjin wasn’t just as beautiful and cruel as everyone said he was. Somehow, he was worse on both fronts. And the agony of knowing that you were inadvertently going to be tethered to him for the rest of your life or his, made you want to scream.
‘I hate him,’ you thought, your head swirling with nothing but images of his gorgeous face as you imagined how stunning it would look paired with a perfect red outline of your handprint against his pale cheek. ‘I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.’
At least you had one thing in common with the prince.
The thought made you laugh bitterly to yourself on the street.
Title: The Canvas of Your Skin
Pairing: Royal AU!Prince Hyunjin x Fem!reader (no y/n)
Rating: mature for now, explicit later 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!!
Fic Summary: Being the Apprentice to the official Court Painter for the Royal Hwang family was considered one of the highest honors for an artist in the entire kingdom. One that you took very seriously despite the fact that your Master was often bossy, demanding, and rude. Still, it was a position you had fought tooth and nail for, and one that you would never dream of giving up. That was until you were unexpectedly tasked with painting Prince Hyunjin's official portrait. He was arguably the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on, let alone immortalized on a canvas. Too bad he was also the most arrogant, self absorbed, peacock of a man who seemed hellbent on making your life a living hell just because he could- one agonizingly tension filled portrait session at a time.
Warnings: nothing crazy for this chapter. a little swearing here and there. brief mentions of a dead sibling.
Word Count: 7.9k (lolol jesus christ)
A/N: this fic was born from an idea that was hatched in my IG dms about a month ago when a dear friend and I asked each other the question: what would it look like if Hyunjin was a cruel prince in a tension filled enemies to lovers royal au? this is what I came up with. AO3 link here
CHAPTER ONE
Your eyes felt like they were going to melt out of your head.
You had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours now, working tirelessly to restore a massive and long neglected painting that had been sitting tucked away in a dark corner somewhere inside your Master’s studio for at least a few good decades by the amount of dust and grime that coated its dull and lifeless looking canvas.
A shame really, considering that underneath it all the painting itself was a truly stunning piece that depicted a lavish looking ballroom filled with joyous dancing couples painted in faded yet colorful hues who were swirling across a gilded floor of white marble. At least you assumed it was white, at the moment it was still an ugly, murky, brownish yellow color.
You were at the phase of your apprenticeship where your Master, the official Court Painter for the Royal Hwang family, was now tasking you with increasingly difficult restoration pieces. Even though the royal family had their own personal arsenal of some of the best painting conservators in the entire kingdom at their beck and call, learning basic restoration was a skillset that was considered crucial to your tutelage.
Up until recently, you had been merely watching your Master work at restoring various paintings on top of your usual duties. Standing behind him for hours at a time watching how he worked, listening to him go on and on about this or that technique, until one day he decided you had done enough standing around and it was time to put what you’d learned to the test. You had no problem doing restoration work, if anything you enjoyed the challenge of it, but that didn’t mean you didn’t find it tedious at times. Like right now.
Just a day prior, you had arrived back to his studio after running your usual mundane and time consuming errands for him, thoroughly exhausted and ready to climb the four flights of stairs that led to your room that also doubled as your own private studio where you could work on whatever you wanted in your own very rare and fleeting down time. But when you passed through the main parlor that was your Master’s primary studio space, you were greeted by the sight of a giant oil painting that was covered in cobwebs and filth that had a note attached to its intricate yet worn frame that had the words ‘Get to work’ scribbled out in your Master’s familiar and eerily neat cursive writing.
So with a heavy sigh, you tossed your messenger bag on a nearby arm chair, grabbed a paint covered smock from the old coat rack that housed all your numerous aprons and other protective clothing, and perched yourself on the same stool you often sat on while painting under your Master’s ever watchful eye and got to work.
And that’s where you had been ever since, gently dusting off all the muck and old spiderwebs that were filled with an alarming number of dead bugs, making notes of which areas held deeper damage that would require more extensive work, before finally beginning the time consuming task of gently cleaning off some of the heavier grime that lay beneath the surface level dirt that coated the painting. You were resisting the urge to doze off in your seat for what felt like the hundredth time when you heard the front door slam shut, signalling your Master had arrived to no doubt check in on your progress.
You gave your cheek a sharp little slap as you straightened yourself up in your stool in the hopes that it would wake you up before he entered the room. The sounds of his footsteps echoing on the stairwell grew louder, and then the parlor was filled with the soft clicking of his heels crossing the wooden floor before coming to a halt right behind you. Your Master didn’t greet you with a hello, instead you felt him lean over your shoulder, his brooding and impassive face coming into view out of the corner of your eye as he examined your work.
“Not bad,” he murmured after a moment before straightening back up to his full height. “Though I had hoped you’d be a bit further along by now.”
With your face now safely out of his line of vision, you rolled your eyes at his words. In the years you had been studying under him you’d grown accustomed to his compliments always being followed by some sort of criticism or critique. In the beginning it had stung, but nowadays it was more annoying than anything else.
“It’s not exactly a small piece,” you muttered with a bit more attitude than you’d normally let out, courtesy of your own exhaustion.
“Are you saying I overestimated your readiness for such a large project?” He asked, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.
“No,” you replied as you added more of the distilled soap solution to the cotton rag you were using to dab away at the dirty canvas. “Just remarking on its size.”
He chuckled at your words before settling into the same arm chair that held your messenger bag, opening it up to gather and inspect the various letters and art supplies that lay within it from the day before that you had been tasked with picking up on his behalf.
“They were out of that specific watercolor palette you wanted at the shop,” you said before he had a chance to comment on the absence of one of the more important items you had been expected to purchase yesterday. “The clerk said he’d send out the order for it today and he should have it sometime next week.”
“That’s fine,” your Master yawned out before the sound of him ripping open his mail filled the room. “Just make sure he doesn’t charge you extra for whatever bullshit rush job he’ll try and add on for something he swore he already had waiting for me.”
“Got it.”
God you were tired. And hungry. And frankly, kind of bored. While you were hyperfocused on the task at hand right in front of you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the unfinished charcoal drawing of the city view outside your bedroom window that had been calling your name upstairs in your room. You could’ve been long done with it by now if it weren’t for this stupid fucking surprise assignment that had been oh so graciously gifted to you by your Master.
You didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. Being the official Apprentice to the Royal Court Painter was considered one of the highest honors any artist could hope to have in the entire kingdom. It was a position that came along only once in a generation, sometimes longer, and by some miracle you had been the one to secure it this time around.
Art was everything to you, it had been since you were a child. From the moment you were old enough to hold a pencil in your hand you were drawing. It started with abstract shapes and colors before graduating to sketches of your family, and the various animals that lived in the farmlands of your town. Before you knew it you were painting landscapes, still lifes, and portraits, honing your skills more and more with each passing day until finally your parents decided to send you off to the capital city to attend the Royal Art Academy. They put everything they had into covering your initial tuition, and every year after that you earned and kept your place at the Academy through the numerous scholarships you won on top of being sponsored by a few well to do benefactors who would take a lucky few students under their very generous wings every year.
When you were twenty and on the verge of graduating, you found out that the time had come for the Royal Court Painter to take on an apprentice at long last. Over the centuries, each Master would open their private studio to one lucky person, an apprentice who would come to learn everything they could ever hope to about painting, all of its various techniques and history, as well gaining access to all of the hidden artworks and knowledge of the Masters of old. Knowledge that, if the long standing wives tales were true, had originally come from otherworldly beings that roamed the lands long ago before the kingdom ever existed, bestowing artistic talents to those they saw fit to not only appreciate beauty, but create it as well.
And then one day, after years or sometimes decades of studying, the apprentice would eventually become the Master themselves, whether it was because of the existing Master’s death or on the rare occasion, their retirement. And then the whole cycle would repeat itself once again.
It honestly sounded like a bunch of pretentiously overexaggerated cloak and dagger bullshit when you had first heard about it, but even you were not immune to the allure and the mystery that seemed to surround the title of being deemed worthy enough to study under the Royal Court Painter, so you decided to apply for the apprenticeship. And somehow, after countless sleepless nights, and a great deal of blood, sweat, and tears (not to mention agonizing hand cramps from holding a brush until you physically couldn’t anymore at times), you beat out one hundred and forty-three other applicants and were hand picked by your Master himself to learn everything he had learned from the long line of Master Artists before him.
You had been borderline delirious with joy when you found out you had been chosen, knowing that this opportunity was going to change the entire trajectory of your life in ways you’d never even dreamed of. You’d even allowed yourself a few opportunities to gloat about your victory over some of your least favorite soon to be former classmates in the days leading up to you packing your belongings to move into your new Master’s studio in the heart of the Art District in the capital. And as you strolled through the front doors of the small mansion that you would call home for at least the next decade of your life, you felt like you were truly on top of the world.
That was until you found out your Master was kind of a huge prick.
You supposed it came with the territory of being an insanely talented genius who was shaped into excellence thanks to a long line of other insanely talented geniuses that came before him. But if you had known that a big chunk of being his apprentice was going to look more like a truly soul crushing combination of being his own personal assistant/maid/occasional verbal punching bag, you might’ve reconsidered applying for the apprenticeship altogether.
But then you got to see him work for the first time when you sat in on a portrait session that some lower level Baron had commissioned your Master for by scrapping together his entire life savings just so he could paint the man’s wife in honor of her fiftieth birthday. In that moment you realized not only were you honored to be in the presence of an artist like him, but maybe there was some truth to the rumors that the knowledge and talents the Masters possessed had come from some sort of transcendental origins.
Even when he was only in the beginning stages of sketching the Baroness’s likeness, your Master had somehow managed to capture her living, breathing essence on the canvas before him. Almost like he had ensnared a piece of her very soul, and then with each brush stroke and layer of color that he added, he painted it a new home where it would live for all eternity. So detailed was your Master’s work that there were moments that you could’ve sworn you saw the portrait breathe in time with its subject that sat just a few short feet from the easel itself.
In that moment you became convinced that art was actually magic, or maybe magic was actually art, and when you and your Master left the Baron and Baroness’s house, both of them in tears over the finished painting, you turned to your Master on the darkened street and shamelessly begged him to teach you what you’d seen him do in there.
“Why else would you even be here?” He said, eyes rolling at the sight of your eager face. “It’s not like I keep you around cause you’re pretty to look at. Quite the opposite actually. Don’t ask stupid questions like that again.”
Again, he was a prick. A genius, but a massive fucking prick.
So you spent the years being his little errand girl while also learning anything and everything he would throw at you. You stopped by the framer’s to see if they had any new pieces in that might catch your Master’s eye, sent out correspondence to perspective clients that either approved or denied whatever their commissioned requests of him were, and of course, made countless trips to the market to chip away at his seemingly never ending list of paints and brushes and other supplies he never seemed to have enough of. You even hauled his paints and equipment around to his numerous portrait seasons, setting up his station exactly how you knew he liked it, sometimes hours before he even bothered to show up and begin his work. And then you’d stand in silence passing him whatever he needed without him needing to ask when he was razor focused on a piece.
But in between all of that grunt work, he showed you how to capture a landscape so lifelike, it almost looked like the wind was blowing through the golden fields of wheat you painted. He taught you how to make the light dance on ripples of water when he took you to the cliffside to paint the sea that bordered the western side of the kingdom. When you moved onto portraits, he showed you how to make the colors of your subject’s eyes shift and change depending on the time of day, their gaze following you from across the room whenever you got up to take a stretch break.
You also gained access to seeing some of the most stunning paintings that only a select few people both living and dead had ever laid eyes on that were stashed in the basement of your Master’s studio space. Some of them had even once lived in the Royal Gallery, a place that was off limits even to you due to your current status as just an Apprentice. And when you teared up at seeing some of them, overwhelmed by their beauty and history, he merely rolled his eyes and said “Control yourself. And remember the framer closes in thirty minutes.”
But now you were in a bit of a lull in the creating aspect of your education. The past few weeks had been spent learning about basic restoration, and how to ‘heal’ damaged artworks. You knew it was important, that every lesson your Master had imparted on you so far was crucial to you eventually one day taking over his position in court (whenever he wasn’t threatening to fire you beforehand of course). But you missed painting. You missed sketching. You missed making and creating. Giving life to a canvas or a sketchbook. You were so desperate to make something, anything of your own that you had caught yourself doodling lines and shapes in the dust that stuck on the windows of your room like you did when you were a little girl.
Yet here you sat, the ever diligent student, dabbing and cleaning and dabbing and cleaning, while your Master sat beside you rifling through his letters with what seemed like increasing annoyance with every one he read by the sounds of how the parchment moved in his hands.
You had mostly been able to tune out his little sighs of discontentment from his corner of the room, that was until you heard him let out a particularly loud and colorful groan of displeasure that also sounded a lot like ‘youvegottabefuckingkiddingme…’
You glanced over in his direction, carefully taking in the slightly blurry outline of his figure seated in the armchair with your messenger bag in a heap by his feet. You blinked twice to try and clear just enough of the exhaustion from your eyes to see that a large letter with the royal seal on it was gripped tightly in his hand.
“I have to leave for the Western Province tomorrow morning,” he said. “The King has commissioned me to do a family portrait for the Duke and the Duchess to celebrate the birth of their daughters.”
It wasn’t uncommon for the King to send your Master on the occasional gifted portrait session to an extended family member. In this case it was for one of his cousins, some Duke you barely knew anything about except that by the sounds of it he and his wife had recently welcomed twin daughters into the world. You nodded your head and let out a quiet ‘Hmm’ to let your Master know you’d heard him as you continued working on trying to restore the painting that sat in front of you.
“I’ll be gone for about three weeks,” he continued. “I’ll also need to check on the gallery at the Duke’s estates to assess if anything needs any minor restoration work while I’m there.”
You ‘hmmed’ again as you continued to gently dab away at the layers of dust and grime that coated the portrait you’d been tirelessly working on for far too long at this point, silently wishing your Master would get on with whatever he had to say so you could get back to your work in peace and silence.
“Which means in my absence, you will be responsible for beginning the work on Prince Hyunjin’s portrait.”
You froze at your Master’s words, the damp piece of cotton you’d been using to clean suddenly felt far too heavy and cold in your hand. With all your recent waking hours having been devoted to your restoration lessons, you had forgotten that your Master’s upcoming portrait season for the royal family this year included finally capturing the King and Queen’s only son and sole heir, Prince Hyunjin’s likeness in his first official portrait since entering adulthood many years ago.
“You want me to do what?”
“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself,” he scoffed, confusing your startled expression for one of wonderment. “I said you’d merely be starting it, as in the first round of sketches, not doing the entire portrait on your own. You’re not ready for undertaking something like that yet.”
You bristled at his words, biting back the urge to challenge him by arguing that you felt you were in fact quite ready for undertaking something like that. But with someone else a little more low stakes in the royal family- like a Baroness, or a Lord, or a doting Duke and his tiny twin daughters half a kingdom away. Not with someone like His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Hwang Hyunjin himself.
A young man who was long rumored to be equal parts charming and cruel as he was beautiful and narcissistic.
You’d seen him just once in passing over the years ever since you had moved to the capital to begin your apprenticeship. But it had been from afar, and not quite close enough to see if the whispers of his devastating beauty were true. It had been three winters ago when he and his parents were leaving the city for some holiday retreat to their second (or was it their third?) palace. A slightly smaller, but apparently just as grand home away from home as their main estate was, tucked away in the snowy mountains that lay just beyond the city.
You had been on your way back from running some trivial errand for your Master, not understanding why there was such a clamor and commotion on the packed streets around you until you saw the royal guard storming ahead of you on horses that were so blindingly white they seemed to almost glow in the frigid afternoon sun. Behind them was the royal carriage that flew by in a blur of onyx and gold, and from one of its open windows there emerged a long and slender arm clad in a dark blue velvet coat and matching leather glove giving the very definition of a lazy, princely wave at the adoring crowd that surrounded the carriage on both sides.
The screaming that erupted on either side of you from the young women and even a few young men that surrounded you on the street was deafening.
“Oh my god, it’s him! It’s Prince Hyunjin!”
“I’ve never seen someone so beautiful in my entire life!”
“He looks just like a painting!”
“Did you see the way he looked at me?”
“What do you mean the way he looked at you? He was looking at me.”
You highly doubted he was looking at any one person in particular in the crowd as you stepped off the curb once the royal procession had finished passing by and continued on about your day. He was probably just doing his princely duty to acknowledge his doting subjects before he ran off to his family’s fancy vacation home to do whatever it was that young, rich, and handsome princes did.
For Prince Hyunjin, his main hobbies reportedly included amusing himself however and with whomever he saw fit, even if it wasn’t considered the most appropriate behavior of a crown prince. If the stream of gossip that had worked its way down from the palace to various corners of the city and beyond were true, it included a fair amount of drinking, gambling, whoring, and other countless tales of debauchery that had attached themselves to his name over the years.
You knew that eventually you would have to meet him, as well as his parents. But thankfully your Master had been more focused on helping you hone your ‘slightly above average, but still profoundly mediocre’ art skills instead of having you waste your time gallivanting through court rubbing elbows with the nobility. That time would come eventually, and you had hoped that when it did, and you’d finally have to formally meet Prince Hyunjin, it would be under different circumstances, like in passing at an official gala years down the road after he had hopefully mellowed out a bit and gotten all of his youthful arrogance out of his system.
You’d never forgotten the story you’d once heard about how he had laughed in the face of some diplomat’s daughter who had dared to confess her feelings for the young prince in front of a ballroom full of people, and how he hadn’t stopped laughing even after she’d run out of the room crying her eyes out.
So yeah, you weren’t exactly chomping at the bit to meet the young prince anytime soon if that’s how he treated people who came from the higher echelons of society. You could only imagine what he’d think of you, some lowborn, paint smeared, nobody who came from a tiny town in the middle of his kingdom that he probably couldn’t even point out on a map.
But with your Master being called away on official royal business at the behest of the King himself, you knew you didn’t have much say in the matter. You could only hope that despite the prince’s notorious reputation, maybe he was actually just a tad bit more agreeable to be around in person than what half the kingdom seemed to think.
And if he wasn’t…
Well, at least he wasn’t going to be your problem for another decade or so. You could handle spending one afternoon getting some sketches done of the Prince on behalf of your Master while he was gone so that he wouldn’t fall too far behind on his jam packed schedule with the royal court.
“So,” you said through a yawn, officially too tired to give a shit if your Master took offense about your current state any longer. “When am I supposed to meet with His Royalness?”
“You’ll need to be at the palace on Friday at noon,” your Master answered. “And please make sure you’ve brushed up on your manners before setting foot through their front gate. If I find out you’ve said or done anything to embarrass me while I’m gone, I will-”
“Ship me back off to whatever shitty little village I came from,” you finished for him. Him threatening to send you back home at the slightest inconvenience was not uncommon. “Also, for the last time I was born in an actual town, not a hut made of straw in the middle of nowhere.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” your Master grumbled. “Just make sure you’re on your best behavior while you’re in the company of the Prince. He can be rather…tenacious when it comes to others. Especially the ones he finds easy to toy with.”
“So you’re saying he really is a bit of a bully,” you said. “I was already aware, he’s been quite the talk of the kingdom over the years.”
“What I’m saying is that Hyunjin likes to play with his food before he eats it just because he can. So don’t give him any reason to set his sights on you, am I making myself clear?”
There was something about your Master’s tone that made you realize that maybe you really did need to be on your absolute best behavior around the Prince. A bully was one thing, even one in a crown. But there was a warning laced in your Master’s words that made your skin prickle just a bit.
“Show up, bow, and don’t say a word to him unless it’s to ask him to oh so kindly change poses or tilt his head for you. I want you to do as many sketches as you can in the time that you have. You know what I’m looking for and what I’m expecting. Do not go over the scheduled time, and when I return I’ll take over the future sessions with the Prince.”
“Yes Master.”
“And one more thing,” he said as he stood up to finally leave you alone to finish your work. “The last time the Prince sat for a portrait was when his sister was still alive. Under no circumstances are you to bring up Princess Yeji while you are inside that palace.”
“I won’t Master.”
Hyunjin’s only sibling, an older sister who was beloved by all those who came in contact with her, had died long before you’d ever set foot in the capital. But even you knew the importance she had held in the royal family, and that her loss had been a heavy one not just for the King and Queen, but the entire kingdom as well.
Prince Hyunjin apparently never even bothered to acknowledge her existence.
“Well,” your Master said as he turned to leave the room. “Now that we have all of that settled, I’ll see you when I return. Don’t think of this as a vacation, I’m still expecting you to fulfill your usual duties while I’m gone.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you muttered under your breath.
Your Master undoubtedly heard your snarky response, because he made a point to throw one final jab your way before he departed his studio to go off and do whatever it was he did when he wasn’t busy creating masterpieces or torturing you.
“You missed a spot.”
Your groan of annoyance was drowned out by his mocking laughter that echoed all the way down the stairs as he made his grand exit.
Fucking prick.
Friday arrived much sooner than you would have liked, and when you awoke that morning your stomach was a pit of anxious knots. You slipped on one of your nicer dresses, a favorite of yours that was made of linen, its muted blue-gray fabric was miraculously paint free and usually reserved to wear on one of your rare days off where you could walk through the city and enjoy yourself at your leisure.
In an effort to look extra presentable for your imminent meeting with the prince, you had your hair brushed back and pinned up and out of your face and added a few dabs of your favorite perfume to your neck and wrists before putting on your favorite necklace, a simple silver chain that had a dainty little star that hung from the end of it with your birthstone shining bright in its center. You decided to add your favorite belt at the last minute, a simple brown leather band with two silver hands that fastened together in the front once secured in place, almost like they were clasped in greeting with one another.
You told yourself that you were only doing all of this for the sake of making a good first impression with Prince Hyunjin, not because you were trying to show off in any way. He probably went to bed in nightshirts that were worth more than your entire monthly stipend that you received from your Master’s own grotesquely large annual salary.
You tried to choke down a few bites of toast and jam, but each bite felt like dry mush in your mouth. Even the sips of coffee you took weren’t enough to help you swallow down your food without feeling like you were choking, so you quickly gave up on the idea of breakfast and instead focused your attention on making sure you had everything packed that you needed to bring with you to the palace in a few short hours.
After unpacking and repacking your bag three times, you decided to try and work out some of your nervous energy by pacing back and forth through the main parlor until it was time for you to go. You practiced both bowing and curtsying, though both felt incredibly unnatural and uncomfortable to you, but you hoped that by the time you actually met the prince you would have it all worked out in your head and just do whichever one felt right without hopefully making an absolute fool of yourself in the process.
Before you knew it you were walking down the main road through the Art District heading towards the palace, sketchpad and travel easel tucked under one arm, while your other hand was crossed over your chest grabbing hold on the strap of your messenger bag like it was a lifeline. But even that small anchor of comfort was no match for the steady pounding of your heart that only seemed to grow louder and stronger the closer you got to the massive front gates that guarded the entrance to the limestone palace that lay in the very heart of the city.
The gates were works of art themselves, made of ornately carved wrought iron with the Hwang family crest- a heart topped with a crown with a constellation of eight stars atop the palisades and two thorny roses criss-crossed in front of it- shining brightly like a golden sun in the very center, and they were armed to the teeth with members of the royal guard. You approached the one that was closest to you so could be let into the main grounds, fishing out the letter from your pocket to show him proving that you were there on official royal business.
“Hello,” you said, your voice oddly steady despite your nerves. “I’m here for a portrait session with His Royal Highness Prince Hyunjin. My Master sent me in his place for the appointment. I am his Apprentice.”
The guard took the letter from your hand, inspecting the short and curt message written within from your Master explaining both his absence and your presence. The bottom of the parchment signed with his name and his own wax seal, one that everyone who worked in the palace knew as the official seal of the current Master Painter for the Royal Hwang Family.
The guard wordlessly handed you back the letter before stepping aside to whisper to another guard who was standing right behind him on the other side of the gate. There was a clanking sound of a lock shifting and a small door that was hidden within the gate itself swung open.
“He’ll escort you inside,” the first guard said, gesturing to the other one behind him with his head.
You bowed your head in a silent thanks and stepped over the threshold and followed the second guard not along the main pathway that was paved with white stone that lead to the grand entrance of the palace, but rather a smaller winding lane of gravel that had you walking along the side of the massive estate that lay before you before you came upon a nondescript side door painted a copper red with a golden knocker in the shape of a star not unlike the one you wore around your neck. You certainly hadn’t expected to be welcomed with a red carpet and flower petals raining down above you, but you couldn’t help but wonder if your Master was also made to take what was surely a servant’s entrance every time he came to the palace.
The guard knocked the golden star twice against the wooden door, and it was opened almost immediately by a middle aged man dressed like a head butler.
“The Apprentice is here,” the guard said before walking off to return to his post.
The head butler seemed a little more jovial than the guard had been, but also short on time as he welcomed you inside with a smile and a warm yet quick greeting. If he told you his name it went in one ear and out the other, as he hurriedly escorted you down a long and winding corridor that was most definitely a servant’s passageway meant to keep the help out of sight of the royal family and their court. You were just about to ask him where he was taking you, when he stopped in front of a door in the hallway and opened it wordlessly with another one of his smiles as he gestured you to walk through.
On the other side of the doorway was a drawing room that was at least twice the size of your Master’s main parlor room back home and infinitely more luxurious. You were so busy gawking at the decor of the room including the plush red velvet furniture and the expertly carved wooden walls and white plaster ceiling that you completely missed that the butler was speaking to you until he politely yet pointedly cleared his throat from somewhere behind you.
“I’m sorry,” you said as you turned towards him with a sheepish look of embarrassment across your face. “What did you say?”
“I asked if there was anything I could get for you Miss,” the butler repeated. “There’s water and wine on the table, but I could send up some tea if you’d like?”
“No thank you,” you said, noticing that while there were two water glasses next to the silver water pitcher, there was only one wine glass next to the decanter that was filled with maroon colored liquid. That probably hadn’t been set out with you in mind. “Just water is fine, I have everything else I need here with me.”
“Very well,” the butler said. “The Prince will arrive shortly, please feel free to get yourself settled in however you need to until he joins you. I’ll be back to escort you out once your session is done.”
Without another word he disappeared back through the door you’d used to enter the drawing room, shutting it behind him with a soft click leaving just the faintest of outlines that it even existed hidden in the dark wood of the wall, leaving you all alone in the empty room. You took a moment to close your eyes and take a few deep and measured breaths, breathing in the rich smell of the oak walls that surrounded you. With each inhale you willed your nervous heart to steady itself, and when it finally felt like it was back to beating as normally as it could, you let your eyes snap open and began to survey the room in earnest trying to figure out where the best spot would be to set up your easel so you could sketch Prince Hyunjin.
Your first thought was to have your station set up facing the fireplace. Perhaps you could have him lean against it with one arm resting on the mantle. But then you realized you didn’t know how tall Hyunjin was. What if he was short? Like, really, really short, and he couldn’t reach the mantle? You’d never heard anyone mention his height, just that he was an obscenely beautiful man, and even though you knew that a man didn’t need to be of a certain height to still be considered handsome, you didn’t want to potentially offend His Royal Shortness just in case. Not to mention he might find it rude that you would ask him to stand, though you would also be standing, so it really shouldn’t be that big of a deal if you both were so-
The chaise lounge.
‘Yes! That could work!’ you decided to yourself as you eyed the lush looking golden framed piece of furniture next to you. He can sit on that. Or…would that be too intimate? Because he’d have to lie down, at least halfway, and that didn’t seem very formal…and this was supposed to be an official royal portrait. You couldn’t very well ask the prince to spread out for you on a velvet couch that was almost more like a bed in some aspects-
You were overthinking things and you hadn’t even met the man yet.
If your Master were here he probably would’ve smacked you upside your head for agonizing so hard over asking a subject, even a royal one, on how to pose for you. You had never been one to doubt your abilities, even all those years ago when you had entered the Royal Art Academy as a mere novice amongst prodigies. You had been accepted there because you had shown you had talent. Talent and passion and a desire to learn and get better at your craft. And now all these years later, here you were- standing in the fanciest room you had set foot in, in a fucking royal palace, about to sketch a member of the royal family. You were thee god damn Apprentice to arguably the greatest painter alive in the entire fucking kingdom, and you deserved to be here. You had dedicated every waking moment of your life to get here, and you would be damned if you let your nerves get the best of you moments before you had to sketch a man.
Because at the end of the day, even though he was a whole entire prince, Hwang Hyunjin was still just some guy. You’d drawn and painted countless men before him, and you would draw and paint countless more after. What was one more pretty (albeit royal) face to add to your portfolio anyway?
With your internal pep talk finally at an end, you found yourself dragging one of the plush armchairs with a high back that looked cozy enough for a prince next to the tall windows in the room that overlooked the sprawling royal gardens beyond. Angling it juuuuust right to where enough of the natural light would shine in and illuminate Prince Hyunjin without hopefully blinding him, and then you set up your easel and your sketchpad.
‘It doesn’t need to be perfect,’ you reminded yourself as you rummaged through your messenger bag pulling out your pencils and your charcoal, getting everything set up exactly where you needed it. ‘It’s just the first round of sketching, and sketches aren’t meant to be perfect. They just need to be done well enough so you have an idea of where to begin. He’s just a man, you can do this. You can do this, you can do this, you can do-’
Your mantra was cut short by the sound of a door knob turning somewhere to the right of you, and your head whipped over to the main door near the fireplace (because of course he would arrive through the main door, not the hidden one you had used), just as it swung open and a member of the royal guard appeared from behind it and walked into the room before turning to face your direction, but he seemed to be looking right through you instead of at you as he announced in an all too loud and booming voice for such a beautiful and delicate room:
“His Royal Highness, Prince Hyunjin.”
You didn’t have time to bow or curtsy. You couldn’t have done it even if you had practiced doing either action a million and one times beforehand, because when Hwang Hyunjin rounded the open door and entered the room, time itself seemed to stand still and every single thought you had ever had tumbled right out of your head at the mere sight of him.
Everyone you’d ever heard describe him had lied.
He wasn’t beautiful, he wasn’t handsome.
He was exquisite.
Devastatingly, heartstoppingly so.
You could tell even before he crossed the threshold of the room to stand in front of you that his face was almost perfectly symmetrical. The only real difference between both sides was the little mole that lived just below his left eye. His high cheekbones and angular jaw were in sharp contrast to his sinfully plush lips that were equal parts pouty and indifferent, and a beautiful pinkish blush color. And his eyes…his eyes were just as angular as the rest of his face, and dark. So dark they almost looked black, just like his hair that fell in soft waves that framed his gorgeous face. The ends of the inky black strands gently rested atop his broad shoulders that were covered in the supple red velvet of his coat that was just a shade darker than the furniture in the room. The front of it was adorned with various broaches, including his family crest that was secured just above where his heart was on the left side of his chest.
Once you were finally able to (begrudgingly) drag your eyes away from his face and down the length of the rest of his body, you realized he was actually quite tall. Not just in his slender torso, but also with his long, lean legs that were clad in black leather trousers that carried him with both the silence and the grace of a dancer to the center of the room where you stood, before finally stopping less than a foot away from you.
Hyunjin was close enough for you to reach out and touch him, not that you would ever dare or dream of doing such a thing, and the intoxicating scent of whatever perfume he was wearing infiltrated your senses. A gentle flood of warm rose and spice swirled around in your head with each breath you took, though you weren’t sure how you were still breathing at all. He gave off an air of icy indifference as you both stared one another down, his hands clasped behind his back as he peered at you like a bored housecat that had just stumbled across a little mouse and was trying to decide if he wanted to swat at it. His head tilted to the left and his eyes narrowed slightly, and you suddenly realized that while you had been so preoccupied with intensely studying his appearance from head to toe since the moment he’d walked through the door, you hadn’t done the one thing you had promised your Master you’d do.
Hyunjin, Prince Hyunjin, was still waiting for you to bow.
You centered yourself, lowered your head, and felt yourself sink down into the deepest curtsy you could manage while murmuring out a quiet “Your Majesty”, feeling proud with yourself that your voice was steady and controlled despite your nerves. You held your pose for what felt like an eternity, thankful that at the very least your jaw hadn’t been hanging wide open while you had been openly ogling the crown prince for god knew how long before you’d had the decency to give him the proper greeting he had expected from you the moment you laid eyes on him.
When you rose back to your full height, you tilted your head back up and once again locked eyes with the prince. His own gaze now going on a slow descent as he leisurely took in your full appearance for the first time. From the dainty silver necklace that hung from your neck to the silly little dress you were wearing, all the way down to your worn leather boots that you shuffled your feet in against your own will at the heat of Hyunjin’s stare.
When he’d seen everything there was to see, obviously content or maybe even bored with his own study of you, he finally dragged his gaze back up the expanse of your body until he was looking directly into your eyes again, and you noticed that his were now glimmering with something other than cold indifference. And then the ghost of a smile, one that was not particularly warm or friendly, curled along the outer corners of his plush lips.
Hyunjin likes to play with his food before he eats it just because he can.
Your Master’s earlier warning echoed through your head, and you did your best to choke back a nervous gulp at the memory of his words. Instead you squared your shoulders, held your head high and stared the prince dead in the eyes. Some might’ve called what you were doing rude, maybe even defiant. But to you, it was your way of setting the tone for not only how you hoped the next few hours would go, but also the entirety of your future working relationship once you officially took over your Master’s position in court.
‘You might be a prince, but I’m somebody too,’ you thought. ‘I will not let you intimidate me.’
A look that was downright predatory radiated from Hyunjin’s dark eyes, almost as if he had read your mind, and the smile on his beautiful face slowly bloomed into one of cruel hunger.
So don’t give him any reason to set his sights on you, am I making myself clear?
Prince Hyunjin wordlessly nodded his head towards the open door, and for a brief moment you thought he was gesturing for you to leave. Already deciding that he was incredibly underwhelmed with you before you’d even had a chance to offend him. But then the guard who had announced the prince’s entrance, the one you had completely forgotten was even standing in the room with the two of you, bowed to his prince who couldn’t even be bothered to turn and face him, and silently walked out the door and shut it behind him with a soft click.
Leaving you and Hyunjin alone in the room together.
Life is great until your best friend goes missing your senior year of university, leaving little more than an apology and goodbye. Months later, you’re determined to find out what happened to him and discover a situation much more complicated than you would have ever anticipated.
as in
Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers 'sect.'
.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.
pairings: ateez x fem reader, song mingi x fem reader, choi san x fem reader, kim hongjoong x fem reader, others throughout (very slowburn lol)
genre: cult au, thriller, mostly angsty situations
warnings: for mature audiences, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, drugs & alcohol, heavy religious themes, abusive/toxic relationships, literally none of the ateez members are portrayed as good people, still a WIP -> pls read tags on AO3 for in depth warnings!!!
current wc: 193,203
taglist
title: careful, he bites!
pairing: non-idol!jung wooyoung x fem!reader
rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!!
warnings: biting, like so so much biting. lots of kissing, just an all around obsession with mouth stuff really, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected vaginal sex (don't be dumb, use a condom in real life), brief (affectionate) dirty talk, creampie, wooyoung and reader are very horny for each other, wooyoung is a menace (wtf else is new), did i mention the biting?
summary: there are three things that wooyoung loves most in this world: biting, kissing, and you.
word count: around 2.2k
a/n: idk y'all i just got lost daydreaming about wooyoung biting people and now here we fucking are i guess lol. this was written in like an hour and i did not bother to give it the proper edit it probably deserves so apologies for any typos/grammatical errors
wooyoung bites.
you’d known this little fact about him since before you even started dating. he was constantly handing out playful little nips left and right to anyone he deemed worthy of his affections, which was pretty much everyone in your friend group whether they wanted him to or not. sometimes when he was feeling particularly rowdy (or drunk), the nips escalated into full on maulings that often left the recipient yelling and scrambling to get as far away from him as possible.
san, a frequent victim of wooyoung's, had once described it as being on par with a shark attack. none of this however deterred wooyoung from biting people, if anything it only seemed to encourage him.
the first time he bit you, you had been out to dinner with him and a few friends at your favorite bbq spot. you had reached over to the left of you to grab some kimchi that was sitting on a plate in front of wooyoung, your head facing the opposite direction still deep in conversation with seonghwa, when you felt a set of teeth firmly, yet oh so tenderly, sink into the soft flesh your hand.
you knew who the culprit was before you even bothered to turn and look.
wooyoung merely grinned up at you when you did, all teeth and glittering eyes and flushed cheeks from the soju you all had been drinking that night. and when you scolded him to drop it like he was a dog with a bone he shouldn’t have, he merely giggled and shook his head, your hand still trapped in his jaws, and then he applied just the slightest bit of extra pressure, enough to make you inhale sharply through your nose, before finally releasing your hand from his mouth.
he used his own to gently wipe away the faint trace of glistening saliva that he’d left behind, but the indentations of his teeth remained in place for the rest of dinner. when you got home and found yourself tracing the space where his bite mark had been only hours before, you found yourself wondering how his mouth and his teeth would feel on different parts of your body, a shudder rippling through you at the mere thought.
it didn’t take long for you to find out.
dating wooyoung was inevitable.
on top of being a biter, wooyoung was also a notorious flirt, and from the moment you two met his flirting towards you was so intense and hyper focused, that jongho, hongjoong, and yeosang had started a betting pool as to when they thought he would finally break down and ask you out. and when you showed up at yunho and mingi's shared apartment for your weekly game night exactly three weeks after the great bbq biting incident of 2025, hand in loving hand with wooyoung, you didn't miss the grumbling and groaning that came from the corner of the room where hongjoong and yeosang were standing next to a particularly smug looking jongho, who muttered something under his breath about 'i also accept venmo and zelle if you don't have cash on you.'
dating wooyoung resulted in a floodgate of physical affection and touching that often left you shaking and desperate for more like you were an addict in constant need of a fix. and wooyoung being the fiend gentleman that he was, was only more than happy to comply- anytime, any place, anywhere, no matter who happened to be around (this did unfortunately result in the two of you being temporarily banned from game night when mingi accidentally stumbled across the two of you in his own kitchen, the image of you pinned against the countertop with wooyoung's hand buried down the front of your pants was unfortunately still seared into his brain).
it also resulted in an escalation of biting that was so intense it made you realize it wasn't just wooyoung's preferred love language, or simply one of his favorite kinks (of which you were pleased to find out he had many), but an intense, all consuming oral fixation, that bordered on being a full blown addiction.
it turned out there wasn’t a single spot on your body that wooyoung wouldn’t bite. in the middle of a conversation he'd playfully nip at the tip of your nose or the very edge of your chin. he'd walk up behind you while you were brushing your teeth and sink his into your shoulder and growl. he'd bite your fingers whenever your hand crossed in front of him to reach for something. he'd bite your cheeks whenever you took photos together. he'd bite your arms when you spent too long talking to someone else in front of him. he even bit your feet once when he was giving them a massage after a long day at work, and when you yelled at him in embarrassment to stop, claiming it was gross, and they were probably dirty from you being on them all day, he merely tossed his head back and let out a cackle that filled both the living room and your heart, before lifting your heel up to his mouth and chomping down even harder in glee.
those were just some of the every day bites your boyfriend gave out to you freely. the simple affectionate ones that were his way of saying 'hello! it's me! your wonderful and amazingly sexy boyfriend jung wooyoung!' or 'hello! it's me! your poor neglected boyfriend wooyoungie who hasn't gotten enough attention from you today!!!'
then there was the other kind of biting. the hungry, all consuming kind that mostly happened behind closed doors, or the alleyway of your favorite bar, or sometimes in the back of an uber on your way home after being banished from a friend's place cause you two got a little too frisky in front of the others again. after all, no one wanted a repeat of the night mingi found you two in his kitchen.
it was the kind of biting that you had fantasized about alone in your room the night wooyoung had finally felt confident enough to put his mouth and his teeth on you for the first time. the kind of biting that you now got to experience whenever you wanted in real life and not just in your fantasies.
it always started with your lips. for wooyoung's second favorite thing in the world besides biting was kissing. specifically the kind of kissing that turned into a hot and heavy all consuming make-out session that was all teeth and tongue, with plenty of hair pulling and frantic, desperate, grinding. coincidentally, that was also your favorite type of kissing.
wooyoung's mouth would never leave your body once the kissing started, he would simply drag it to wherever it needed- you needed it- to go. his teeth would connect with your bottom lip, and he'd give it a gentle tug, not enough to hurt you of course (that always came later if you wanted it, and often you did), but juuuust enough to make you whimper. that wordless sound directing him to keep going. he'd nuzzle his mouth along your jawline and throat, leaving biting little open mouthed kisses against your pulse point, then to your collarbones and shoulders, his teeth deliciously scraping against your flesh. your sighs of contentment only spurring him on.
it wasn't until his mouth would connect with your breasts that you'd finally hiss out his name. sometimes he wouldn't even be bothered to lift your top up right away, choosing instead to bite at the soft slope of your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt, watching with amusement as your nipples hardened beneath, before sucking and biting and pulling on them, driving you wild with frustration that there was still a barrier separating your bare skin from his teeth. he knew better (for the most part) than to keep teasing you for much longer once you pulled a fistful of his thick hair, a warning that you were starting to get annoyed with him and the feeling of the wet spots he'd left behind on your t-shirt, and then and only then would he give you what you wanted and pull your top up to expose the expanse of your chest to his greedy mouth at long last. your back arching the moment he'd latch himself against your nipple, teeth anchored around the pebbled bud, sucking and kissing at you like his life depended on it. making sure to give the same amount of attention to the other side as well.
the soft flesh of your stomach was next, wooyoung enthusiastically littering your skin with love bites that often tickled, and would send you into a fit of giggles at the sensation. you could always feel him smiling against you at that point, his broad shoulders shaking with his own laughter, drunk on the taste of your skin, and the sound of your laugh, and the way your hands were tightly woven through the inky black strands of his hair.
by the time he made it all the way down to between your thighs, the laughter was long gone. replaced now by needy gasps and whines from you as wooyoung continued his assault on every inch of exposed skin that lay before him. the biting that happened on your thighs were often the hardest ones he'd give out. even your most heavy make-outs where he would anchor himself to the side of your neck and bite and suck at you like he was a vampire didn't sting as deliciously as it did when he sank his teeth into the meaty flesh of your inner thighs. he knew how to make it hurt just the way you liked it, to leave not only a perfect indentation of his teeth behind, but to also grab just the right amount of you in his mouth and bite a bruise into existence that often lived on you for days after.
and when his mouth would finally end up where you so desperately needed him, he'd let his teeth scrape ever so slightly against your sensitive clit, before finally giving you the tiniest of breaks from all the biting so he could lick and suck at you until you were seeing stars and sobbing out his name.
afterwards, as you basked in your comedown from the orgasm he'd just given you, he'd retrace his steps with gentle kisses and nips all the way back up to your parted mouth, using his own mouth to catch the gasp you let out when you felt him slide his length into you. and as he rocked his hips against yours, his cock dragging so deeply against your walls that you found yourself locking your legs against his thin waist in a desperate attempt to anchor him closer, he'd bury his head against your cheek, kissing, and nibbling your ear lobe while quietly blabbering out the perfect mix of affection and filth against you.
'i love you, you know that right? love you so much. fuck- you feel so good. wanna stay buried in you forever. wanna fuck you 'til i can't anymore. always wanna be inside you- inside this pretty little pussy. shit, gonna come. wanna come for you so bad. are you gonna come for me too? please baby, please, please, fuck that's it- you're taking me so well. i'm almost there, wanna finish with you. iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou-'
when wooyoung's thrusts started getting sloppy, and he started getting extra whiny, sometimes trying to muffle his loud groans by bitting down on your shoulder, you knew it was time to return the favor. because yeah, wooyoung bites, but he also loves being bitten just as much. so when you can tell he's seconds away from coming, and he just needs that liiiiittle extra push to get him there, you did what any doting girlfriend would do to help their partner reach that soul crushing peak: you’d sink your teeth into one of his favorite sweet spots, that beautiful curve where his neck meets his shoulder, and you'd bite down hard.
and that's all it took for him to come, loudly, because he's wooyoung and being quiet has never really been his strong suit, especially when you've got your teeth sunk into him while he's hurtling through one of the best orgasms of his life (he swears every time that they're all the best ones with you). you'd moan encouragingly against his skin, applying more pressure in your bite as you felt him rutting as deep as he could go, filling you with every last drop that he can push out of his body.
when you finally unclenched your jaw, it was so you could place soothing kisses where you had just bitten him, allowing him all the time he needed to catch his breath and slow his heart rate down before he finally rolled off and out of you with a dramatic groan.
it's in that moment when you know you only have a small window of opportunity where wooyoung isn't tangled up with you, which means if you're quick, you can go to the bathroom and/or head off to the kitchen to grab a glass of water for you both. but no sooner than you're standing on legs that are still a little too shaky for your liking, you feel a mouth suddenly clamp down on your ass cheek causing you to yelp out in surprise and look over your shoulder.
just as quickly as he bit you, wooyoung lets you go, smiling up at you with messy hair, ruddy cheeks, and sparkly love struck eyes like you singlehandedly hung the fucking moon that's shining in the sky outside your bedroom window. like the impish little beast he is, he suggestively wiggles his eyebrows at you as he leans forward and once again attaches his teeth to you, only this time they’re on the curve of your hip, mumbling a question against your smooth skin that's once again found a home inside his ever eager mouth.
summary: you didn't mean to actually meet the man who's audio porn was single handedly getting you off every night, but you do.
note: this has been a looooong time coming and is dedicated to one of my best friends, grace. 💗 i hope everyone enjoys this chaotic smut fest.... also i've recently discovered that porn is actually illegal to produce or consume in korea? so suspend your disbelief for this fic lol
warnings: camboy!yeosang/barista!yeosang x fem!reader, it's a smut-a-thon barely a plot in sight featuring - nsfw/audio porn, guided masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, lots and lots of orgasms, use of dildo, nipple play, one night stand dynamics except they kind of fall for each other, big and i mean big dick yeosang, oral sex (f receiving), gratuitous squirting, fingering, thigh riding/grinding, protected and unprotected sex (do not do this they're being hella dumb), rough sex, maaaaaajor praise play he says good girl more times than i can count, so much use of 'baby', plus pretty girl/babygirl, absolute pleasure soft dom yeosang of our dreams, reader literally passes out from coming you're welcome
pairings: yeosang x reader
genre: smut and more smut, where's the plot???
word count: 14.5K
additional note: yeosang owns a cafe in this fic called ongozisin, it's a real cafe in seoul and you can check out their ig here! the vibes are truly so yeosang i can't even articulate it, so i just wanted to share this for the extra visual!
Paid porn for women has tiers. You stumble headfirst into this realization with your fingers stuffed inside yourself and your body slick with sweat, and there’s nothing that takes you right out of your frantic self care session than a request for your credit card number and a terms of service page.
Your chest is heaving, legs shaking, and you feel your orgasm slip right through your fingers as you skim over his Fansly page. You should have just skipped to another one of his free audios on Pornhub like you always do, but this week was long and stressful and slightly emotionally fraught, and there’s only so many times you can ignore his husky little ad at the end of the audio file inviting you to check out the full, uncut content.
“Jesus,” You breathe, pushing yourself up in the bed and letting your phone drop to the side as you recover your breath.
Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to pay for porn? The internet is full of it, spilling over from every angle with any little thing you can imagine. There’s a reason Rule 34 exists, people are horny and people love attention, so if you can fathom it there’s free porn of it.
And yet, nothing ever, ever gets you there like he does, and you’ve never even seen his face.
You glance down at your phone again and you see his familiar header image, a deeply contrasted black and white header of tangled white sheets, and his username striking across the corner in neon green. fromryu. This is what drew you in initially, the simplicity of it all. You were sick of skimming through all of the men making porn for women with names like ‘TheMasterDominant’, ‘Your_Daddy’, or ‘forherpleasureee’ and then just listening to them groan in your ear and call you a slut for fifteen minutes. That might work for some, but it definitely doesn’t work for you.
Ryu was different, is different. His audios are a mix of scenario based role-plays and straight forward guided masturbation for women, and you’re pretty sure he comes right along with you when you listen, but it’s just not the same.
You’ve fucked yourself to every single one of his free audios. Some of them more than once, some of them several times, if you’re being honest. You’ve always ignored his ads, because he gives so much content away for free you can’t imagine what would be behind a paywall that would get you off harder, until today.
Your brain just couldn’t get there. You’ve heard him chuckle that chuckle before, say that line before, coax you into orgasm with those exact words before, and you need more.
Your credit card is firmly in your hand before you can give it another thought, and with a fluttering stomach you tuck yourself into a robe and back into bed to pick a tier. With a long sip of a fresh glass of wine you lean back in your pillows and read through his welcome page.
His tiers make you smirk, he’s funny.
Third base, full uncut audios and one special audio per month just for subscribers – $4.99/month
Just the tip, uncut audios, one special audio per month, and access to a private discord server where subscribers can make audio request submissions – $9.99/month
Every inch (and more), uncut audios, exclusive audios, access to discord, exclusive video content, and access to a private Snapchat - $24.99/month
In for a penny, in for a pound, you guess.
You click on ‘Every inch (and more)’ and plug in your card numbers before you have a second to rethink your decision. You really hope you don’t get hit with a fraud alert that you have to explain to some poor customer service representative.
The wheel spins, the charge goes through, and suddenly you’re in. Your mouth has never been so dry.
There’s dozens of videos, dozens. For every audio you’ve listened to on Pornhub, there’s a video that goes with it, and for every free piece of content there’s two times as much paid video content. $24.99 was nothing compared to how many hours of content you’re suddenly sifting through.
There’s a common thread across every video though, you can already tell from the thumbnails, Ryu still never shows his face. Almost every thumbnail is the same, a white wall and a charcoal gray couch, and a man wearing oversized black sweatpants and a tight black athletic shirt.
His knees are parted, legs spread open and casual, and his hands rest clasped between them. You swallow thickly at the sight of his arms. He’s built. His hands are so good looking you think idly that he should just be modeling watches or something, it’s ridiculous how nice they are. His skin is tanned, veins snaking up his forearms, and silver rings across several of his long, thick fingers. Can the sight of a man’s hands make you come? Your aching clit throbs.
You skim through the video titles and tags to try and select one and your stomach twists. His videos are even more varied than the free content he posts and organized so well you think you might be in love with him already.
There’s a folder for role play videos, and you skim through that quickly just to see. Neighbor overhears you moaning and comes to check on you, best friend takes your virginity, boss and secretary working late, brother’s best friend slips into your room at a sleepover, step-daddy teaches his babygirl a lesson.
Your cheeks flush hot pink and you settle further into your sheets, backing out of this folder and navigating to your tried and true favorite.
Guided masturbation and encouragement.
There are even more videos in this folder and you skim through any of those ones that say ‘exclusive’ in the title to avoid ones you’ve already heard parts of. The hashtags alone leave you breathless and you have no idea what to choose, every video cleanly tagged with what you’ll need to be able to keep up with his instructions. Hands only, rabbit vibe, hitachi wand, bullet vibe, dildo, butt plug, nipple clamps, lubricant, massage oil, blindfold, wrist restraints, ankle restraints, the list goes on and on.
You select one at almost random with the tags ‘hands and fingers’, ‘dildo’, and ‘optional squirting’.
The screen starts black, and for a second you’re pretty sure something’s wrong, but then you hear him.
“Hi everyone,” Your muscles melt, and you push your noise canceling earbuds deeper into your ears, “I have something a little special today,”
You’ve never heard him talk so casually, almost like a vlogger or something. His voice hasn’t yet shifted into that deep teasing tone that kicks off every free video, and you’re already sold on every dollar you’ve spent when he starts to just chat.
“I got a request from a special subscriber in my discord,” He says, “someone who’s become a friend and who confided in me that she’s never been able to make herself squirt,”
Your breath comes a little more quickly.
“It’s not easy to do, I know,” He says, tenderly, the screen still black, “and I want you all to know that if you’re still struggling after this audio, that’s okay. It takes time, and your body is not a sex toy. There’s not a perfect combination that works for every person with a vagina,”
Your brow quirks at the inclusivity of his language choice and you smile a little, easing yourself down in the bed to keep listening to him.
“But I’m going to do my best to help you,” He continues, “so while I get set up over here, I need you to get your own space ready. Get up out of bed or off the couch, but keep me with you, okay, baby?”
You’re shaking and he hasn’t even said anything sexy yet. You don’t always listen perfectly to instructions, sometimes you skip ahead a bit and get to the good stuff just to get yourself off, but this time it’s different. You tuck your phone in your robe pocket and stand.
“For this session,” You can almost see the smile in his voice and you try to imagine him, “you’ll need a couple of good towels laid out across your space. You’ll need to drink a big glass of water before we get started, and then I want you to find your best dildo, the one that really makes you come hard. The one that fills you up just right, that hits that tender little place you wish I was touching with my fingers,”
He’s going to make you come so hard you see Jesus, you can tell already.
“We need everything to be perfect,” He says, “and for you to be comfortable. Tonight is not the night to test out that new toy, okay? Tonight is for you and me, so go and get your supplies, and I’ll tell you all about my day. I’ll be your favorite little sexy podcast.”
As he starts warmly talking to his audience about his long lazy morning off work, you nearly crumble. You’re really not supposed to be getting a crush on this guy, but here you fucking are. He’s sweet, casual and laughs a little while he talks, and while you gather up the towels and the water and the frankly oversized dildo, you’re smiling.
You hear him sit down and sigh and then his voice shifts, just a little, “Alright, baby, are you ready?”
You sink back back down to sit on your own bed and you wait.
“Just a reminder,” He says, “I will be using female descriptors throughout this video. If you’re uncomfortable with me calling you ‘girl’, like babygirl or good girl, or referring to you as a woman in any way, I am posting the similar content with male descriptors. If you’d prefer to hear baby boy or good boy, check the links below this video, okay?”
You smile again.
“Alright,” He hums, “now, where were we?”
The camera clicks on and you feel the little gasp leave you. You almost forgot.
He leans back on the couch and keeps talking, “That’s right, the lesson. Get settled over the towels, and if you’re wearing anything, it’s time to take it off for me.”
You lay back over the towels and let your robe part open.
“That’s so good,” He croons softly, “god, you’re so pretty, baby,”
Your chest thumps hard.
“Let’s start slow, okay?” His hands smooth over his thighs, “the key here is teasing, and I know how much you like it when I tease you.”
Your hand rests on your own thigh, your other propping up the phone as you watch with rapt attention.
“Touch your pretty thighs for me,” His voice is rich and thick in your ears, “that’s a good girl, there we go, nice and soft. Is your pussy wet? Did I do that to you again, pretty girl?”
You’re barely breathing, eyes fixated on the screen as he strokes his own thigh through his sweatpants, slow and steady.
“Are you aching?” He asks and you can’t help but nod, feeling like suddenly he can see you through the screen.
“Touch just a little,” He murmurs, “but don’t jump ahead. Keep your fingers off your clit, we’re not there yet, sweetheart.”
A little tight sound slips out of you as you follow his instructions.
“Is your sweet slit wet?” He hums, and his hand slides up his thigh and rests over his stomach, “Are you throbbing?”
Fuck.
“Someday, baby,” He sighs and you watch him shift on the couch cushions, “I’ll taste you,”
“Fuck,” You whisper.
“But for now,” He’s smiling, you know it, “you just need to listen to me and do everything I tell you,”
You’re nodding again.
“I promise,” He says, “I’ll take such good care of you baby, if you listen, I promise to make you come.”
Your stomach clenches, core fluttering, and you drift your fingertips up and down your slit, following the way his middle finger is slowly sliding back and forth on his abs.
“Are you listening?” His voice goes husky and your head drops back into the pillows. Next time you’ll need a better way to watch him and listen and touch yourself, but you’re so incredibly desperate at this moment that it really doesn’t matter, you’ll make due.
“You are, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “Good girl,”
Your legs spread a little wider.
He leans forward, you hear the rustling of the fabric and you snap your eyes back to the video to see him leaning forward, hands clasped together loosely, and you’re pretty sure you can see the outline of a bulge in his sweatpants.
“Does it hurt?” He croons, teasing.
You love him like this.
“Take your hand away from your pussy,” He says, just a little more commanding, “right now, baby,”
You pull it back reluctantly.
“Close your eyes for a minute,” He murmurs, “spread your legs for me,”
You comply immediately.
“Tease your nipples,” He sounds a little breathier now and you fight the urge to watch the video, “do whatever feels good, touch your tits exactly the way you like it,”
You roll your nipples, tugging them softly and kneading your breasts with both hands now that you’re not propping up the phone.
“Imagine me with you,” He says, “feel my fingers sliding up your calves, my lips on your inner thigh, you can feel my breath against your sweet cunt, I know you can,”
You’re about to come untouched, that’s the thought that rocks through your mind when your hips jerk on their own, his deep voice nestled right in your ear.
“Look at you,” He muses, “squirming around, so fucking desperate for something inside you,”
Your breath catches.
“You’re so needy,” He continues, “are you making noise for me? Little pants, little moans? Are you trying to be quiet?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, a soft scold, “Not with me, baby,”
A moan bubbles up out of you.
“Hands off.”
Your eyes open immediately, and you don’t pull your hands away just yet, but you’re frozen still. You’re breathing hard, blush climbing up your chest, and your hips jerk slightly. If he doesn’t let you touch yourself soon, you’re going to lose your mind.
“Good girl,” He says after a moment, “very good,”
You drop your hands, scrambling for the phone so you can see what he’s going to do next.
“Now watch me,” He instructs, holding his palm up to the camera, “take two fingers,” he separates his fingers, keeping his middle and index fingers tucked together, “and when they’re inside curl them just like this.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, “Just like this,”
You slide your hand down your front, slipping your fingers through your soaked folds, but his voice makes you pause.
“Go slow,” He instructs, “push them in nice and slow for me,”
You follow his instructions.
“There you go,” He sighs softly, “now curl your fingers,”
You watch as he does it in the video and you follow instructions dutifully, your fingers brushing over your spongy g-spot.
“Feel that?” He leans back, and the tent in his sweatpants makes you pant, “That perfect little spot that makes you whine so good for me?”
You nod again, biting down on your lip, desperate to move but waiting.
“When I say,” He slips his fingertips into his sweatpants, teasing you, “fuck your perfect pussy with those fingers,”
Sweat drips down your chest.
His hand disappears into his sweats and he groans, “Now,”
You don’t have to be told twice.
“Harder,” He says, throaty and low, “I know you can,”
A tight sound slips out of you as you work yourself, but you nearly fall apart when you watch him push down the top of his sweats. His cock is huge, there’s no other way to say it. Thick and perfect, aching pink at the head and when he wraps his hand around himself you feel the tense knot of your orgasm rushing back.
“Oh, f-fuck,” You scramble in the sheets, pulsing your fingers in and out just like he told you to.
“Look at you,” He says again, “fucking yourself for me. I bet you’re imagining my fingers, aren’t you? Just like I’m imagining your dripping pussy,”
Pleasure rocks in your gut.
“Use your other hand,” He instructs, “rub that clit for me,”
You drop the phone like it’s hot, and you have to crane your neck to see the video, but it doesn’t matter. He’s given you the perfect permission to do exactly what you need and you have to take it.
“Does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Do you feel like you need to come for me?” His voice gets closer to the microphone and you’re rapidly approaching the edge, “You’re so close, fuck, listen to you,”
“God, oh god,” Your legs are trembling.
“Do you see how hard you make me?” His fist jerks over his cock faster and your mind is unraveling, none of his other audios feel like this, “Do you know how much I want to see you come?”
Pressure drops in your belly.
“Fuck,” He pants, “you’re almost there, I know you want to come for me, but not until I say,”
It’s happening whether he wants it to or not, whether you want it or not, and your fingers bear down harder on your clit, your eyes locking closed, head falling back.
You pull your hands away and it’s possible that nothing has ever felt as bad as this one stolen orgasm. Your hands are shaking, body flushed and slick with sweat, and if any of your neighbors are up they are probably getting an earful.
You lock eyes with the video again and his hands rest on his knees, cock standing tall and at attention, edging with you.
“Get that dildo nice and wet,” He says, and you search your sheets for the silicone cock, “in your mouth pretty girl, imagine that’s my cock between your lips,”
He strokes his hand slowly down his length, smearing a bead of precum down to the base of his shaft as you dip the cock between your lips and take it as far in your mouth as you can.
“It’s time to come,” He soothes, like he knows you’re a whining, quivering mess, “I know you need it,”
The dildo pops free from your mouth and you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to expose the smooth plane of his abs, “Fuck yourself with me, sweetheart,”
Pleasure pops through you as you press the toy to your hot channel.
“Nice and fast,” He pleads, thrusting into his fist, “don’t stop this time, not until you come,”
The bubble inside you expands again, pressure everywhere.
“Just trust me,” He whispers in your ear, “don’t stop. I’ve got you, I’m right here, you let go baby. Don’t fight it,”
Your back arches up off the bedding, the muscles in your arm aching as you thrust the toy in and out of yourself, pressing it up again and again into your g-spot.
“Come, baby,” He sounds like he’s begging, and your free hand flies down to grip the sheets, “let go, you come, that’s it, there you go,”
You turn your head, catching sight of him again and the way he works himself over.
“There we go,” He groans sharply, his own release spurting up ropes of cum onto his exposed chest, “can you feel me inside you? Come with me, that’s a good girl, good fucking girl,”
He sounds dizzy, panting himself, you’ve never heard him quite like this and one final thrust sends you spilling over the edge. Your vision whites, body locking up in ecstatic pleasure, and you clap a hand over your lips to stifle the moan that rips out of you.
It takes a minute to come back from that. Your ears ringing, and the dildo slips out of you with a final pulse from your shattering orgasm. He’s talking, you register it, but his voice sounds far away and you realize that you’ve lost your earbuds. You scramble to get them back in, pulling the video up to your eyes.
“-And that’s okay,” He’s saying, his cock tucked away and his shirt back down, “you can try again another time if you didn’t quite get there,”
For a second you’re confused, it was the hardest orgasm of your life, but then you remember this was intended to be a guided masturbation to squirt and you blush, alone in your apartment, at the fact that you didn’t quite get there and he’s talking to you.
“It’s all about the build up,” He explains, “but I’m sure with a little practice we can get you there.”
You’ve never really cared about squirting until now, but he makes it sound like a perfect date and something tells you that you’ll be back here again night after night if he’ll have you.
“Anyway,” He sighs and you hope he’s smiling above the camera, “thank you for spending a little bit of your day with me, I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel,”
You blush again.
“I’ll see you soon,” He assures, gentle like a lover would, “sleep well, jagiya,”
The video cuts and you blink hard, you’re still smiling.
You are so, so fucked.
After that, Ryu becomes a problem. You wish it was just the videos and the dirty talk and the good orgasms, but it’s more than that. You just like to hear him talk now, the little bits at the beginning about his day are starting to get into your head. And then there’s the Snapchat.
You kind of expected the private Snap to be sexy photos and videos of him in the almost pitch dark huskily saying good morning, but it isn’t. You still have never seen his face, but his videos are casual, friendly, too real for a man you spend every night fantasizing about. He chats about things he’s doing or books he’s reading while he’s cooking, filming just shoulders down so you can watch the muscles in his arms while he chops vegetables. You fall in love with the sound of his voice when he’s just talking, his stretched out s-sounds that only really peek through outside of his constructed scenes. You find yourself missing him a little on days he doesn’t post.
You’ve gotten used to waking up with him, falling asleep with him, checking in on him during the day. His message announcements in Snapchat don’t feel like they’re for everyone, they feel like they’re for you. You know that’s not true of course, you know you’re paying a hefty monthly bill just to feel like this, but you don’t care. It’s been a while, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t just need some company.
It’s a Thursday when everything goes to shit.
You wake up far too late, forgetting to set the alarm on your phone after falling asleep directly after yet another Ryu narrated orgasm, and everything has been off kilter since. You’re scrambling to get to work on time and every little thing is going wrong. Your coffee machine isn’t turning on, the sweater you want to wear is still in the wash, and your umbrella will not open despite the rain that’s ruining what would have been a good hair day.
When you decide to stop into the coffee shop across from your office it’s not even a want, it's a need. You’re already thirty minutes late, why not make it forty-five?
You’ve never come here, not once. You’re used to going to the shop around the block from your apartment, and this place is new. Ongozisin is the kind of place you’d normally take your time in. The space is clearly industrial, concrete walls and flooring made to look unfinished. The aesthetic is still warm though, with natural dark wood furniture and bamboo accents, Joseon era paintings and a juniper bonsai along the back wall.
To the left side of the cafe stands a bay of tall windows and the very modern, very clean point of sale. The line isn’t too long, but you can see that the pace of this place is slower by design, so maybe you’ll just round up and call it an hour late. A door opens to your left and you watch as one of the baristas steps out from a kitchen holding two black plates of colorful, carefully constructed pastries.
The line moves ahead of you, and the person behind you softly clears their throat to jog your attention.
You step closer, only one person ahead of you now.
When you hear his voice you nearly reach for your phone.
“That’s perfect,” It’s Ryu, clear as day. His voice is distinct and deep and here.
Your eyes snap up to the barista behind the counter, your body frozen stock still as you take him in, mind spinning.
“Do you want any cream?” He says to the woman ordering.
Blush lights up your cheeks and all you can think about is the video you watched the night before and his voice in your ear - Do you want my cum inside you, pretty baby?
You should leave. There’s a reason this man is anonymous on the internet, never showing an inch of his face, and Ryu isn’t even his name, it's just what you call him. He never calls himself anything in the videos, never reveals what part of Korea he lives in, never talks about his job. He doesn’t want to be found.
You’re about to turn, run, scramble away, but his voice comes again and this time you realize he’s talking to you. The man, Ryu, smiles, “Good morning, can I get you something?”
You’re frozen.
“Miss?” A little crease between his brows.
“Sorry,” You jump forwards, ignoring the annoyed huff behind you and shaking off as much of this panic as you can, “I don’t know where my head is this morning,”
“That’s alright,” He says warmly, “that’s what I’m here for,”
You can’t say anything, your mind blanks.
His eyes flick over you and then he nods, “You know, coffee? To wake you up?”
“Right!” You nod, “Sorry, yes, an americano please,”
“Iced or hot?” He asks.
Are you feeling hot, babygirl? Do you need to take something off for me?
“Hot,” You say it on a reflex but then you remember yourself, “no sorry, iced, iced please,”
“Okay, sure,” He smiles, “iced,”
You make it through payment without too much more embarrassment, apologizing again, and then you step to the side. Another barista appears, slotting into Ryu’s place so he can turn his attention to the drinks he needs to make and you take the moment to get composed.
He’s handsome, that’s a given. You expected that, but still he looks even better than your imagination conjured up, more real. He looks exactly right for this cafe too, his black hair long enough to brush the base of his neck with half gathered into a ponytail, pieces loose to frame his angular face. He’s dressed smartly too, black oversized trousers and a fitted black t-shirt, slim black boots, and an open jacket in a dramatic modern-hanbok style. You realize you’re staring the minute his eyes hold on yours and they crinkle up as he smiles. He has a birthmark, a smooth light pink flush across his eye and your heart thumps in your chest.
“Long night?” He asks you, passing off a coffee in a mug to the woman who had been ahead of you in line.
He just puts you at ease and you nod, “Something like that,”
“Ah,” He knocks out the round cake of used espresso from the portafilter as he talks, “and you look like you got caught in the rain, don’t you have an umbrella?”
“Broken,” You grimace, “it’s been one of those mornings,”
“Mm,” He nods, focusing on queueing up espresso for your americano, but while the shots pull he turns back to you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?”
You shake your head, “No, first time,”
“Do you like it?” He gestures around with a nod of his head.
“Very much,” You smile, “it’s a great space,”
He smiles again, looking proud, “I’m glad you like it,” he says, “we haven’t been open very long, but so far people have seemed to enjoy it,”
“Oh,” You watch him pour your espresso over ice, “is the cafe yours?”
He nods, “Mine and my friend’s,”
You wish you weren’t late, you wish you were able to stay just a little longer.
“Well,” You tell him honestly, “it’s beautiful here, I’ll have to come in more often, I only work across the street.”
“Ah,” He nods, “I thought you looked familiar,”
Blush creeps up your neck.
“Did you need cream?” He asks and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your pulse quickens at his words, but he nods towards your coffee and you shake your head.
“Thank you,” You take the cup off the bar and step back, “I appreciate it.”
“I hope that helps,” He says, and then he glances behind you at the large round window, “actually, I’m sorry, can you wait one moment?”
“Sure,” You watch him duck out from behind the bar, making a quick beeline for the swinging door that leads back into the kitchen. You have no idea what he could want, there’s no way you’d be recognized by him except as a stranger on the street, and your stomach knots up.
It takes him a moment, but he darts back out, a long black umbrella in his hand, “Take this,”
“I can’t do that,” You wave a hand, “I’m only across the street, but that’s really kind of you,”
“If you’re only across the street then I know where to go to get it back,” He shakes his head, “just take it, it’s raining like crazy out there,”
He presses the handle of the umbrella into your free hand, and your breath catches in your throat, his skin brushing against yours. Your eyes flick over his rings, just the same as always. A signet with a deep black stone, a hammered silver band, a clearly vintage one on his index finger that looks like an old Catholic saint token, the finer details rubbed away with age.
“What time do you close?” You ask, accepting the umbrella.
“Seven,”
“I’ll bring it back after work then,” You tell him, “is that alright?”
He nods, “But if it’s still raining, just keep it. Bring it by tomorrow,”
“Tomorrow,” You nod.
“Mhm,” He nods, something warm in his expression, “this will have to be your new usual spot,”
Is he flirting? You’re wholly and entirely unprepared to deal with that considering the way you moaned his name last night. Something clicks in your brain at that thought though and you nod, “Maybe it will. I’m y/n, by the way,”
“Yeosang,” He smiles, “it’s very nice to meet you.”
Yeosang.
“You too,” You dip your head, “and thank you again for this,”
“Of course,” He says, “I hope this turns your morning around a little,”
You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a voice from the cafe bar that slices cleanly between your conversation, “Yeosang-ah!”
Yeosang glances back and then he sighs, just a little, “I have to go,” he tells you, “but I’ll see you again,”
“See you again,”
He’s back behind the bar before you can blink, focusing on each customer’s order. The man who called his name is grinning, and you wonder idly if he’s the friend who owns the cafe with Yeosang or just a part-timer.
With your stomach fluttering, you push out into the rain to get to work, Yeosang’s name on a loop in your brain for the rest of the day. When you get home, his umbrella resting by the door, you delete his Snapchat from your contacts and unsubscribe from his Fansly account.
Ongozisin becomes a daily ritual.
The money you used to spend on his Fansly now goes straight into the cafe, first thing in the morning before work and a last lingering stop in the evening before you go home.
On busy days you barely get to see him and sometimes you’re left just chatting with Wooyoung, his best friend and business partner. You like him too, you like the atmosphere and their kind warmth, but if you’re being honest you find yourself living for slow days. The days where you’ve timed it just right to have a little talk before the rush of the day or the closing tasks of the evening.
Little by little, Ryu fades from your mind, and the man in front of you is just Yeosang. The guy who runs your favorite coffee shop, the guy who dresses almost otherworldly, who smiles wide but only when you say something truly funny, who sometimes gets lost in his own head while he’s making cappuccinos.
He’s lovely.
Sometimes you think he might be flirting, a little more suavely and charismatic than his business partner who asked if you had a crush on him since you were coming into the cafe so much. Sometimes Yeosang adds a little extra treat to your plate of food or he adds pretty latte art to your cup if you’re staying in the cafe. That might be nothing, but it certainly might be something.
It isn’t until another day of rain, harsh pelting rain, that Yeosang appears at your table.
“We close soon,” He says, and when he sees the brief flash of concern that you’ve overstayed your welcome on your face he shakes his head, “sorry, I meant to ask, how are you getting home tonight?”
“The train,” You glance outside.
His nose crinkles, “You don’t have an umbrella today either,”
“True,” You look down at your belongings, “I didn’t check the weather,”
“If you wait a bit for us to lock up,” He says, “I’d be happy to walk you to the station,”
“Oh,”
“Or if you’re not busy,” He clears his throat softly, “I could walk you to this little restaurant around the corner?”
Flirting, then.
You smile and nod, trying to keep your eagerness tamped down to a normal amount, “Are you asking me out, Yeosang?”
He grins, “I’ve been trying to,”
Your stomach flips pleasantly, “I’ll wait, dinner sounds nice,”
His shoulders sag, a little relief in his expression and he clears away your empty cup as he says, “I’ll be quick,”
You catch Wooyoung slapping his friend's shoulder as he disappears into the back room, and before you know it you’re blushing and sitting across from this man at the restaurant down the block.
Dinner is so smooth it feels surreal. It turns out you both like the same music, and several books too, and you’ve never been on a date with a man who asked you so many questions about yourself and didn’t just talk your ear off. Dinner stretches long too, and you’re strangely grateful it’s a Friday when you finally do check the time. He has to work on Saturday at the cafe, but not until a little later in the morning, and so neither one of you really wants to call it quits.
The after dinner walk turns meandering, and then his hand is brushing against yours, knuckles to knuckles.
You don’t think of him as Ryu until his fingers brush down your back, lips close to your ear when he finally asks you. The way he does makes your body melt - I hope I’m not ruining things by asking, but would you like to come home with me tonight?
You agree before your mind catches up to itself, but every step of the walk to his apartment has your heart picking up speed. You had forgotten on the date how you met him, really met him, and your gut churns.
Do you tell him? Do you lie?
Everytime he grins at you, touches you, tucks his long hair behind his ear and nods, you can’t imagine a one night stand. You could maybe swallow the truth if that’s all this was to you, but it’s not, and so you can’t.
On his block you feel the internal countdown ticking.
“You can change your mind, you know,” He offers, noticing how you’ve gone quiet, and it pulls you straight out of your thoughts.
“Oh,” Your head snaps up, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to change my mind at all, I just got a little lost in thought.”
He nods, this time finding your hand and giving you a squeeze, his steps slowing as you approach his building, “Can I ask what about?”
You nod, returning the soft pulse of his hand in yours before separating your skin from his. His eyes flick down to your hands, and then back up to your eyes.
“I have a bit of a confession,” You swallow hard, “something I think I should tell you before we go upstairs,”
“Okay,” He leans against the stone wall behind him, “is everything alright?”
“I hope so,” You nod, “I just feel like there’s something I should say now, and if it makes you uncomfortable at all, just be honest. I’ll go home, no hard feelings,”
“y/n,” His brows draw together in confusion, “what’s going on?”
You take a deep breath, taking a step back to get a little breathing room, “I recognized you when I came into the cafe that first day,”
“Recognized me?”
“Yeah,” You clear your throat, your chest feeling tight, “for the past few months I’ve been… a subscriber,”
“A subscriber,” He repeats, and for a brief flickering second you wonder to yourself if this man just looks and sounds and feels exactly like Ryu but isn’t, but then his face blanches, “oh,”
“I’m not anymore,” You shake your head, “and clearly you like your privacy, so I didn’t know how to just come out and say it, but if you’re actually interested in me and not just being flirty at the cafe then I just can’t lie to you… I don’t want to start something with a lie,”
He’s quiet, and then his eyes flick down.
It was so, so nice while it lasted.
“I should have told you sooner,” Your stomach flips and you take another step back, “and I completely understand that you’re upset, I’ll just, I won’t say anything to anyone and it was lovely getting to know you, and I’m sorry, I’ll go,”
His head snaps up, “Go? y/n, stop, slow down,”
His hands smooth down your forearms as he jumps forwards, pulling you gently back towards him. Your heart is beating so loud you can practically hear it, “I’m sorry,”
“I’m not upset,” He assures, “can we go inside to talk? I don’t want to do this in the street,”
You nod, letting him lead you through the garden gate and up towards the house, but his words pulse on a loop in your mind. You hope he’s good at letting you down easy because this hurts. You should have known it that first day at the cafe, you should have stayed away and not played with fire.
His house is small, but very nice and despite being sparsely decorated, you like it. You feel trapped in the entryway so unsure of what to do in this space, especially when you recognize the corner of his gray couch.
“Can I get you a drink or something?” He interrupts your thoughts, “I have wine, probably some soju, and a bottle of truly undrinkable Japanese whisky,”
“Undrinkable?” You blink.
“I think it’s supposed to be very good if you like whisky,” He explains, “it was a gift,”
“Ah,” You couldn’t feel more awkward if you tried, “wine, I guess?”
“Okay,” He smiles, a close lipped polite smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “well, make yourself comfortable, I’ll get us a drink and then we can talk,”
“Sure,” You’re still frozen as he walks away down the hall to what you presume is the kitchen. It takes a minute to unstick yourself, but you make your way to the couch and wait.
He returns with two glasses of red wine and then he sits in the chair opposite you, not on the stretch of couch next to you.
“Sorry,” You take the wine, stomach flip flopping, “I know this isn’t how you thought the night would go,”
“Mm,” He nods, taking a sip of his drink.
“I don’t know what to say,” You tell him honestly.
He nods, looking anywhere but at you until he finally meets your eyes again, “You’re not a subscriber anymore?”
“No,” You tell him firmly.
“Why?” He asks, and the question hangs between you.
“When I recognized you at the cafe and you were being so nice to me,” You explain, “it occurred to me that something might happen between us, as friends or otherwise, and it just felt wrong to know you as Yeosang and then… engage with your content that is clearly anonymous and meant to be private. I didn’t want to do that without you knowing,”
He nods, setting his glass on the nearby coffee table, “I see,”
“You are keeping it private, right? I feel like you’re careful to not overshare,”
“Yes,” He nods, “no one knows.”
“Then I really am sorry,” You set your own glass aside and lean forwards, “I’m sure you didn’t want to bring your real life as Yeosang and your online life as Ryu together, I just recognized your voice immediately that day in the cafe,”
“As Ryu?” He glances back up at you.
“That’s what I…” You try to parse through it so it doesn’t sound like a parasocial affair, “fromryu, you know? That’s just what I filled in for your name, I guess,”
“Ryusang,” He nods, “it’s the Hanja spelling of Yeosang,”
“Oh,” You soften.
“Why didn’t you mention you knew me before?” He asks, but despite his words nothing in his demeanor is upset, just curious.
You take another large, steadying gulp of wine and nod, “I didn’t really think the cafe was an appropriate place to tell you that I’ve gotten off to your voice before,”
He laughs sharply and looks down, “Okay, that’s fair,”
“Right,” You murmur.
“y/n,” He sounds hesitant and you look back up to him, “can I ask you something?”
“Anything,”
“Did you come out with me tonight because you wanted to go out on a date with the guy from the cafe, or because you wanted to have sex with Ryu?” The question is direct and cutting.
“With you,” You answer quickly, and now you know exactly why he’s putting this distance between you, “you, Yeosang.”
He’s quiet, turning your words over, you can practically see him thinking.
“Yeo,” You murmur, fighting the urge to reach out to him, “if all I wanted was that, I wouldn’t have told you. But I really like you, Yeosang, and I’d like to see more of you and see where this could go, but I completely understand if me knowing this part of you is too much. If you don’t want to go any further with me romantically or as a friend, this can just be a nice date we both had,”
He nods and then says, “I have one more question,”
You wait, your stomach in knots.
“Do you have a problem with what I do?” He asks.
“I mean,” You shake your head, “I was a subscriber, so no,”
“I don’t mean like that,” He clarifies his words, “I mean in terms of a romantic relationship. I like my work, both the cafe and the content, and if we start seeing each other I’m not going to suddenly stop making porn just like I wouldn’t close the cafe.”
“I’m not asking you to,” You shift over on the couch and reach towards him, resting a hand on his forearm.
“I’ve dated a few women,” He explains, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together, “this was not something any of them were comfortable with,”
“Oh,” You nod, but he continues.
“A couple of them thought it might be fun,” He adds, “but when things got more serious they expected me to stop for them,”
“I’m sorry,” You tell him quietly, “I don’t expect anything like that,”
“You don’t now,” He points out, “and neither did they in the beginning.”
You can see the way this has fucked with his head a little, the way he keeps his shoulders stiff and turned away from you as he explains, and you suppose you might react the same way if you were in his shoes.
You chew the inside of your lip as you think about how best to say this to him, but finally you manage it, “Yeosang,” you get his attention, “what you do for work doesn’t change what we do on a date or in bed,”
He turns his head a little, the only indication you have that he’s really listening.
“I have no expectation that you’re some… sex god,” You smile a little, “though my guess is that you’re pretty good at dirty talk,”
A small smile appears on his lips.
“If I didn’t like what you do for work I’d go find another guy,” You continue, “and I’m sorry if the other women you dated weren’t comfortable with it, but I’m not so shy about it. I like what you do, and you’ve helped me plenty, and there’s nothing more flattering than knowing you liked me enough to even bring me upstairs,”
“Don’t sell yourself short there,” He looks up, shaking his head, “when you said yes to dinner I thought I’d be lucky if I got to so much as touch you,”
Your heart quickens in your chest, “You, what?”
He turns his body towards you properly now, “y/n,” he says, “I like you, I’ve liked you since you walked into the cafe soaking wet and exhausted, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”
“I think I’m dreaming,” You breathe, and he grins at your words. You clap a hand over your lips and groan, “Sorry, I didn't mean to say that outloud,”
“It’s honest,” He says, “I like that about you,”
“Well,” Your hands naturally separate as you lean back onto the couch, “then believe me when I tell you that I am fine with your work. All aspects of your work,”
His eyes flick over you, gauging how honest you’re being now, “All aspects?”
You nod again.
“y/n,” His voice softens, “what tier subscriber were you?”
It clicks in your brain that you haven’t really told him everything, all the things you know about him and his work. Little audio videos here and there might be forgivable to some women, but more might be too much.
“The highest,” You tell him, “when I say everything I mean it, the videos, the Snapchat, all of it.”
He seems to relax at that, “And if this does go somewhere,” he gestures between you both, “if we keep seeing each other. If it becomes more than a few dates,”
You nod.
“You’re alright knowing that even if we were dating and going to bed together every night, I spend my free time making people come on the internet for money,” He says it so plainly that you have to blink at him.
You turn his words over and then sigh, “There’s one thing,”
He leans back in his chair, putting a little more distance between you both, obviously braced for your words.
“I just have a question,” You ease him, “just something I should know, I think.”
He nods once, his shoulders tense again.
“Do you ever talk one on one with people?” You feel your cheeks heat, “I know you do, you have the discord, but I mean do you ever do what you do alone with someone?”
He softens, “No, no I don’t,”
“Okay,” You nod, the tense knot in your stomach relaxing, “okay, then,”
“Would that be a boundary for you?” He asks.
“I think so,” You tell him, “it’s different when you’re making a video to upload for anyone and talking to someone, at least to me,”
He nods, and then he moves, shifting from his position on the chair to your side on the couch. The nerves that were knotted deeply inside you start to unfurl, his proximity feeling like a peace offering, like an acceptance of your words.
“Subscribers aren’t lovers,” He says finally, “and some people blur that line with their content, but I don’t.”
“Then, Yeosang,” You take the opportunity to slide yourself sideways a little closer to him, “I am fine with all aspects of your work, more than fine.”
“Will you tell me if that ever changes?” He asks.
“Yes,” You make him this promise, “I like you too, all I want is to be honest with you,”
He nods, his fingers flexing on his thigh as he thinks. Finally, he swallows tightly, his skin flushing a little now that you’re almost pressed together on the couch, and he asks what he’s wanted to ask all night, “y/n,” he turns towards you, “can I kiss you?”
He’s stunning this close, enough to render you speechless, breathless. You manage a single word, “Please,”
He’s on you in a flash, and Yeosang’s lips are warm, soft and plush and as he presses into you and winds his arms around you. Your body relaxes into his instantly, the feeling of his warmth, the scent of him, rich coffee grounds and sugar infused into his skin from his work at the cafe.
His tongue probes your mouth, his breath hot as he sighs. Your body feels alight, hot and feverish and desperate from just a single kiss. You need him inside you yesterday.
When he breaks the kiss, you realize you’re half straddling him. Somewhere in the heat of the moment and the muddled fog you hitched a leg over his and his hands dragged you up against him so you’re chest to chest. When your mouths break apart, you’re still merely inches from each other and panting the same little breath of air.
“y/n,” His hands explore you slowly, moving over your skin like he’s trying to learn you, “normally I would try to keep the kink to a future date, but since you already know all of my deepest, darkest fantasies, maybe we can skip ahead?”
“Yes,” You laugh softly, “definitely,”
“But I am realizing something,” His hands find the curve of your ass, “I’m at a disadvantage here, you’ve seen my videos, but I don’t know anything about what you like.”
“You,” The word bubbles up and you flush red again.
“My voice, I’m sure you like that,” He drops it a little to emphasize the husky bedroom quality of it with a teasing smile on his face, “but what videos do you like? What were your favorites?”
He’s about to ruin you, there’s absolutely no question. Even if he was all talk you’re sure to be coming just from his words alone, but his hands, the way he touches you, there’s no doubt he has the skills to back up everything he’s ever said in the videos too.
“Now I’m a little embarrassed,” You admit, “an hour ago we were on a first date,”
“An hour ago I didn’t know the woman across the table had fucked herself to the thought of me,” He counters softly, “and we can slow down if you want but judging from the wet patch on my thigh I think you want to keep going,”
You jerk your hips immediately, angling to pull them away so you can stop embarrassing yourself all over this man after a single kiss, but his hands lock down hard over your ass and he holds your body firmly against him.
“No, no,” He adjusts his leg so that his thigh is pressed even more firmly against your cunt, “don’t be embarrassed with me,”
“Right,” You blush darker.
“I’ll tell you what I want,” He offers, “would that help?”
You nod quickly.
One of his hands shifts to lovingly stroke up and down your back as he speaks, “I want you to enjoy this more than anything. There is nothing that gets me off harder than making a partner absolutely fall apart for me, and knowing I did that for them, and I think you already know that from my content. That’s real, that’s me.”
You shiver a little and he leans up to kiss you, softer this time.
“I’d like this to be good for you,” He continues, “and honestly I already want to see you again, but in case it’s only one night for you I think we should make it count.”
The night went from nothing to everything so fast your head is spinning but you nod, surging up to kiss him with your hands pressed against his chest for balance. Your core drags along his hard thigh with your momentum forwards and you gasp a little into the kiss, your hips bucking softly on their own at the sudden pleasurable sensation. You feel something stiff and warm pressing into your belly and you feel a rush of sensation between your thighs.
“So,” He kisses you again, leaning away so he can talk to you, “tell me what videos you liked,”
“The um,” You clear your throat softly, “the guided ones,”
He smiles, “Those are your favorites?”
You nod.
“And the roleplay?” He asks.
“Good,” You nod, “everything you do is really good,”
“But the guided ones get you off, hmm?” He squeezes your hips.
You nod again, “You’re very good at what you do,”
“Guided,” He says, almost to himself, before he drags your hips up and back along his thigh, “so you like when I talk you through it?”
You rock your hips on your own this time, picking up on his cues that he wants you to grind on him, “Mm-hmm,”
“Tell me more about what you like,” He keeps one hand planted firmly on your backside, but the other starts to wonder, fingers teasing the skin of your collarbones before he cups your breast through your sweater.
“Y-you’re so comforting,” You manage as you slowly rut your body against his, “even when you’re edging me and telling me what to do, you’re just, I don’t know,”
“Is that right?” He teases softly, his fingers toying with the top button of your closed cardigan.
“Mm,” You sigh, pleasure truly starting to build inside you as you rock your clit lazily against him, “and you understand it takes time for women,”
The button opens.
“You take your time with the build up,” You sigh, finding a better position for your hands against his firm chest while you continue to rock, “and when you talk about what you wish you could do to me if you were there,”
Two more buttons part open and he hums softly, appreciatively, “You like knowing what I want?”
You nod, watching as he makes short work of your other buttons.
“Maybe I should just show you,” He slides the cardigan off your shoulders until it pools around your waist, caught on your elbows, “wouldn’t that be better than just listening?”
“Y-yes,” You sigh, your hips slowing so you can let him take the lead.
He shakes his head, pressing his hand against your ass again to keep you moving, “That’s it,”
You moan softly, fingers gripping his shirt, “Yeosang,”
He chuckles at your needy whine and brushes his fingers between your breasts, stroking up your chest, down and over the wire of your bra, and lower still over the soft flesh of your belly.
“There you go,” He smiles, “I know that feels good,”
You nod, “So good,”
“Jagiya,” His hands slide your bra straps down, letting the soft material of the mesh cups fall and reveal your breasts to his hungry eyes, “look how pretty you are for me,”
You’re close.
“Don’t stop,” He murmurs, shifting under you so that he can sit up further and press his lips to your chest, “I need you to come,”
“Yeo,” You whine, your hips sinking into a quick rolling rhythm that feels so right.
“I need to take my time with you,” He confesses, lips traveling from the center of your chest across the swell of your breasts, “but I don’t think I can,”
“I-I don’t want you to,” You moan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to stay steady, “please,”
“I want to,” He groans, “but, fuck, y/n,”
“Yeo,” You shudder, pleasure snapping up and down your spine, “it’s not one night, it could have never been one night for me,”
He exhales a heavy breath against your skin, hands tightening pleasantly on your rutting hips.
You’re startlingly close to tipping over the edge, the bubble growing closer and closer to bursting, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to focus on the sensation of him, “I-I need,”
He grips you harder, “Tell me, baby,”
“I, I,” You stammer, body stumbling towards coming.
“Come on,” He says lowly, “tell me what you need, baby, I’m right here,”
A tight sound bubbles out of your mouth and you figure it out in a second, your hand winding into the back of his hair to direct his head, pushing his mouth until you feel his lips ghost over your pebbled nipple.
“Oh,” He groans, his tongue catching your nipple firmly and sending a shock down your back, “there we go, I’ve got you,”
His tongue flicks over your nipple again, closing his lips over the hardened bud to suck sharply in exactly the way you need to take you right over the edge.
“I’m,” You grip him harder, losing yourself entirely now as you grind against him for your release, “I’m so close,”
“Come,” He pants, latching back onto your breast to keep lavishing the same attention, his arms banding tightly around you to hold your shuddering body close.
Your finger tightens in his hair, he begs you once more to come, and your orgasm knocks into you sideways. You moan sharply, jerking against him as you fall apart, and you feel him start to move.
He presses fast kisses across your chest, his voice soothing, “Oh, there we go,” he sighs as he feels you trembling, “fuck, what a good girl showing me exactly what she needs,”
His words draw a groan from your lips, your head buzzing at his praise.
“Perfect,” He sighs against your chest, “you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,”
You shiver, “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” His fingers trace a circle around your nipple, and something in the way he’s touching you and the sound of his voice tells you everything. He’s about to tease you, edge you, make you come, and god willing he was about to fuck you. Yeosang flicks his thumb over your nipple and smiles, “Baby, I’m going to turn you over, if you want to slow down or stop at anytime you just tell me,”
“I think I’ll be,” You start to say, and then he maneuvers you quickly in his strong arms, gathering you close so he can turn you over on the couch, leaving you lying flat on your back against the cushions. You squeak and the way he pushes your legs together, quickly undoing the buttons on your trousers and pulling down the zip, and he glances up at the sound to check your eyes but finds nothing but your lazy post-orgasm smile.
As he kneels and strips your trousers off he groans, “God,”
“W-what’s wrong?” You blink, finding his eyes.
“Absolutely nothing,” He smooths his hands up and down your bare legs, “except I’m finding it very difficult not being inside you yet,”
“So come inside me,” You smile.
The corner of his mouth turns up at your words, “Already, baby? It’s only the first date,”
You process your words and roll your eyes, “You know what I meant,”
“I do,” He smiles wider now, “but you need to come again before I fuck you,”
“Not that I’m complaining about you touching me,” You gasp sharply as he hooks his thumbs under the sides of your thong and yanks it away, “but I’ve been daydreaming about your cock for months, so,”
He laughs sharply, tugging his own shirt up and off over his head as he does, “I’m flattered,”
“Shut up,” You press your thighs together and let your head flop back onto the cushions.
“Darling,” Yeosang says, kissing each of your thighs before he starts to slowly open your legs again, “how long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”
“Honestly?” You grimace, “A while,”
“And how long since you’ve had anything bigger than your fingers inside you?” He asks it so plainly, so calmly, while he widens your legs and starts to tip you open, another kiss to your inner thigh.
You shiver in his hands, “N-not that long,”
“Hmm,” He sounds pleased at that, “do you like using toys when you fuck yourself to my voice?”
“Fuck,” You gasp as his finger traces the softest line up and down your slit.
“Is that a yes?” He blows a cool stream of air across your throbbing clit and you jerk in his hands.
“Yes,” You answer quickly.
“What I wouldn’t give to watch that,” He says, kissing your inner thigh again before he continues, “but still, I’m probably bigger than your dildo, be patient with me,”
“Oh, fuck,” You melt as he presses one finger inside your slick channel.
“Relax,” He soothes you, “just let go for me,”
You don’t know how your life is this strange, how you went from listening to this man through your headphones while you touched yourself under the covers alone at home to his fingers sinking inside you. You’ll probably wake up from this dream with sticky thighs. There’s no way this is real.
Those are the thoughts that dizzy you until he pushes two fingers flush into your heat and you moan sharply, your hand gripping down on one of the couch throw pillows. He feels pretty real.
He groans, gently pumping his middle and ring finger just to get you used to the sensation, “Feel good?”
“So good,” You sigh.
“How badly do you need to come, darling?” He asks, continuing the slow and steady thrust of his fingers.
“So badly,” Your voice is whiny, needy, entirely informed by the feverish heat spreading through you.
“Pretty girl,” He hums, “with an even prettier pussy,”
“Oh, god,” You grip the pillows harder, and he’s barely doing anything to you but your legs are already starting to tremble.
“Mmm,” His fingers begin to pulse more firmly and you feel his fingers curl, finding the spongy crook of your g-spot with practiced ease, “and you need my cock inside, don’t you?”
“Ah, yes! Yes,” Pleasure blooms through your body.
“Soon,” He promises.
You moan again as he repositions, continuing the steady drumbeat of his fingers inside you as he reaches around with his opposite hand to separate your lower lips, the pad of his middle finger now alternating between maddening flicks and taps to your clit.
“Ah! Yeo,” Your hips rock, “just like that,”
“Good girl,” He murmurs, “telling me what you like,”
A tight sensation fills your lower belly, a blossoming heat that spreads from your core up through your body in warm waves, “F-faster,”
“Mm,” His thrusting picks up speed instantly, the angle slightly adjusting as he does, “that’s it,”
The angle chance has his curled fingers pumping against your g-spot hard and suddenly the sensation drops low, almost painfully tight and sharp like you’re on the precipice of something.
It occurs to you all at once what he’s trying to do, the way he’s trying to make your body sing, and despite the rolling waves of pleasure and how close you are to your second release, you don’t necessarily want the first time you squirt to be on Yeosang’s floor.
“B-baby,” You whine, the pet name slipping off your tongue, “I’m gonna, I think, oh fuck,”
“Fuck yes,” His fingers flatten down over your clit and he rubs fast, slickly rolling over your firm bud, “let go,”
“I can’t,” You shake your head, sweat breaking out across your brow, “I’ve n-never, oh, fuck, Yeosang!”
“Come,” He commands softly, “that’s it, you come, right here, baby,”
He’s not stopping, and with the way he’s working you there’s no way you could even if you tried. In a snap your body releases hard, a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt pulsing through your slick cunt and your legs jerk, hips snapping up as clear fluid pulses out of you. The sound that leaves your lips is wanton, broken and needy, and your ears are very clearly ringing.
“Oh, fuck,” Yeosang hums, almost to himself, rubbing fast across your soaked slit to help coax every bit of slick from your center, “oh, baby, look at you,”
Your legs try to snap shut at the suddenly sharp overstimulation, but all he does is take that as his cue to stop directly stimulating you and instead drop the warm flat of his tongue over every inch of your glistening pussy. You gasp sharply at the feeling, rolling your head forwards so that you can look down between your legs, and you moan softly at the sight.
He’s buried between your thighs, lazily licking stripes up your inner thighs and over your cunt, but slowly enough that his aim isn’t to draw you into another orgasm, he just wants to taste you. To feel you on his tongue and ease you through your little aftershocks.
“God,” You breathe after a moment, “oh, my god,”
He chuckles, kissing the top of your mound, “Was that your first time?”
You nod, still trying to catch your breath.
He groans a little, palming his hard cock through his trousers to readjust, “That’s an ego boost, I’m not going to lie,”
You manage a laugh despite your dizzy, orgasm fogged brain, “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” He strokes your thigh, “if you’re not careful I might get addicted to the way you taste when you come,”
A shudder runs through you, “You can’t just say things like that,”
“It’s not a lie,” He says, “I’d spend a whole night between these thighs if you’ll let me,”
“Mm,” You sigh, reaching down for him and brushing your fingers through his long, dark hair.
“Now?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, “If you want my mouth, you just have to ask,”
You shake your head, slowly starting to push yourself into a sitting position and slide your hips away from him, “Not tonight,”
“What more can I give you tonight?” He murmurs, running his hands up and down your bare thighs, “Anything you want,”
You cup his face, drawing him close to lock your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his nose, “Take me to bed, please, Yeosang,”
“Let’s go,” He agrees, extricating himself from your arms so he can stand and offer you a hand up.
You take it, but as you do you realize the wet puddle on the floor in front of the couch and you blush dark red, covering your mouth with your hand, “I’m so sorry,”
“For what?” He blinks at you, and then follows your nervous eyes.
“I didn’t realize,” You start to say but he interrupts you with a hard kiss.
“Relax,” He says, “if we’re lucky you’ll make a mess of my room too,”
“I don’t know how I did it,”
He laughs again, “I do,” he smiles, “now come on, I need to see you in my bed before I combust,”
He tugs your hand, leading you down the hall until you’re in a large master bedroom. Your eyes flick over the details - industrial, warm wood, dark green sheets, soft ambient lighting. You’re about to comment on it, but he flips you back around to face him and captures your mouth in another hungry kiss.
“God,” He backs you up to the edge of the bed, dropping you down and falling over you, “tell me I can have you,”
“You have me,” You pant against his mouth, all thoughts of his lovely interior decor gone in an instant when you feel the hard shaft of his cock nestled between your thighs.
“I swear next time we’ll go slow,” He grinds his hips down, rolling his length up and down your slit, only the thin fabric of his trousers separating you.
“Please,” You buck against him, “I need you right now,”
“Fuck,” His hands are hot, searching, “is that right, darling?”
“Inside me,” Your hands scramble to find his waistband, “please,”
He nods, lips still pressed against yours, and then he leans back just enough to undo his trousers and start to push down his pants and boxer briefs.
Your mouth runs dry immediately. He wasn’t wrong about his size. You have fairly large dildos at home, thick and long and perfect for reaching all the spots you need it to, but Yeosang was bigger, thicker and longer than anything you’ve ever had inside you.
“Condom?” He manages as he shucks off his pants.
You blink, tearing your eyes away from his perfect, aching cock and nod, “We probably should?”
“Right,” He doesn’t push you to make a different choice, he simply searches his nightstand for a moment and produces a foil packet.
He strokes his cock twice while he tears the packet open with his teeth, before watching you beneath him as he rolls the condom smoothly down his length, adjusting it so that it fits perfectly.
You’re trembling with anticipation, you can feel it and so can he.
“y/n,” He murmurs, leaning over you and pressing a hand beneath your back to finally unclip your bra, “I want you to do something for me,”
You nod, sliding the cardigan and bra off your body and pushing them over the edge of the bed.
He grabs a firm looking pillow and folds it in half, “Lift your hips for me,”
You lift up and he slides the pillow right under your backside to leave you propped up and open for him.
“If it doesn’t feel good,” He murmurs as he maneuvers you into the position he wants, “or if I’m hurting you at all, just tell me,”
You nod.
“And I want you to tell me when you’re about to come,” He instructs, “I need to know,”
You nod again, your stomach flipping with desire.
He licks his lips, folding your legs open a little wider and slotting himself over you. He settles with one hand on your raised hip, the other braced on the bed by your head, his knees on the edge of the mattress between your splayed thighs.
His cock finally, finally, nudges at your entrance and you grip down on the sheets below you.
“Mm,” He groans, sinking just an inch or two into your tight heat, “you’re even tighter than I thought,”
He pushes in a little more and you moan at the stretch, “Oh, god,”
“Do I feel that good, babygirl?” He teases, pushing in a little more.
“So good,” You lift your head to watch the way his thick length splits you open.
“I am bigger than your toys, aren’t I?” He rolls his hips this time, rocking himself deeper with every little thrust.
“Y-yes,” You nod, your head dropping back to the mattress.
“Can you take me, baby?” He murmurs low.
“Fuck yes,” Your hips buck up again on their own as he opens you up, nearly fully sheathed inside you.
“Just a little more,” He says, his hand tightening on your hip, “there we go, fuck, that’s it, you’re taking me so beautifully, baby,”
Tears rush to your eyes, not from any kind of discomfort, but just from the overwhelming sensation of him. You’ve never been so full, never been so deliciously stretched and had these parts of you touched, and it rushes a blush to your chest and emotion through your veins.
His fingers brush along your jaw, bringing your eyes to his, “Good tears, or should we stop?”
“If you stop I’ll actually cry,” You laugh, blinking away the hazy sheen in your eyes, “you feel so fucking good,”
“Oh,” He sighs, thrusting gently in and out of you, “what a good, good girl, you are,”
“Jesus,” You shiver beneath him.
“Yeah?” He starts to move now, just a bit more, rocking his cock at a steady pace in and out of your wet core, “You like when I tell you how good you are for me?”
“Yes,” You moan, a shock of hot pleasure spiking up from your core, “please,”
“Such a good girl letting me fuck her perfect pussy on the first date,” His voice has dropped low again, husky and direct, and you babble out a sound of pleasure as he talks, “so warm and wet,”
“Fuck, fuck,” Your eyes roll.
He collapses over you a little more, his desperate lips searching for yours and the angle deepens, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside you with every downward thrust of his hips.
You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his warm skin, “Baby,” you pant, “your cock, oh god,”
He hums against your cheek, head falling slack as his lips find your throat, sucking your pulse points and no doubt searing his mark into your tender skin. He pumps his hips harder and you moan under him, cursing again and scrambling to hold him closer.
“Such a dirty mouth,” He nips at your neck, “are you always like this, or is my cock that special?”
All you can manage is a taught moan in response, his cockhead now continuously connecting with your sweet spot over and over and rendering you unable to string a coherent thought together.
He groans at the way your cunt flutters and spasms and he kisses you hard, fingers tangling in your hair, “One of these days I’ll feel you for real,” he pants, “nothing between my cock and your sweet cunt,”
Your back arches, your mind spinning at the thought, “Yeo,” you moan.
“Fuck,” He chokes, “the way you’re squeezing me,”
You make a tight sound, something between a pleasured whine and a sob, and his hips stutter and stop, pressing his cock in as deep as possible as he grips down on whatever parts of you he can, breathing hot and heavy against your skin.
You can’t really move well in this position, but your hips rock in tiny back and forth motions to try and keep the sensation rolling through you. He’s panting into your shoulder, clearly trying to keep himself from coming too soon, and your mind commits to an idea before you have a second to double check yourself.
“Yeo,” You tap his arm, “baby I need to move,”
He pushes off you, his cock sliding out of your soaked core and you leg your legs straighten out, “What’s wrong,”
The words are barely off his tongue before you’re sitting up, grabbing his hand and drawing him back to the bed, pushing him onto his back with a guiding hand to his shoulder. He lets you lead, watching you as you put him where you want him this time, and he smiles, eyes flicking over you appreciatively.
“I need you,” Is all the explanation you can give, and maybe with a stranger this is foolish, borderline stupid, but you know him. He’s not a stranger really, not to you.
With a feverish pulse of need inside you, you shift to straddle his hips, and with quick, sure hands you roll the condom up from the base of his cock and toss it to the side.
“y/n,” He manages, but you’re lifting yourself over him now and his hands fly up to brace your waist, “are you sure?”
“So sure,” You connect his cockhead with your slick hole and drop your hips down fast, taking the whole hard length of him inside you in one smooth motion.
It’s his turn to moan, his head dropping back at the sensation of your wet walls and he grips at you, his hips stuttering beneath you.
“God,” He bucks up into you, “you’re perfect,”
“So are you,” You rock against him, finding the perfect place for your hands on his chest, “you’re so deep,”
He moans again, and when you start to bounce up and down he curses tightly.
“J-just don’t come inside me,” You keep bouncing, a steady fluid motion in your hips that you can tell is driving him crazy, but you have to keep your head at least a little.
“F-fuck,” He groans, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick down to the place your bodies are joined together, “you’re making that kind of difficult,”
“I just wanted to feel you,” Your shaking arms buckle a little and you find yourself flush against his chest while you work his cock.
“Me too,” His hands find your ass again and he starts to direct the pace, “God, I could fuck you forever,”
A moan drops from your mouth, your hands tightening on his chest.
“Don’t stop,” He urges you, and you realize your hips slowed at his words, “you feel so good riding me like that,”
Your thighs are burning already, but you hardly care, every fast shift up and down leaves you closer and closer, “Love you cock,”
“Mm, yeah? Say that again,”
“I,” You curse as a spike of pleasure rolls through you, “fuck, I love your cock,”
“Good girl,” He grips you tight, his hips jutting up to meet you now.
Your pace falters slightly, “Please, please,”
“I’ve got you,” He adjusts just enough to hold you steady as he fucks up into your tight heat, “I’ve got you,”
You moan, dropping your head into his chest and shuddering against him, “Baby, oh fuck,”
“A-are you close, jagi?” He pants, fingers digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises.
“Don’t stop,” You beg, “please, god, don’t stop,”
He groans, keeping the pace of his thrusts and using his hands on your ass to maneuver you to meet his hips.
“Shit,” You shudder in his arms, your orgasm fast approaching, “I’m coming,”
“Come here,” He shifts you fast, rolling you up and off him and manhandling you up to your feet.
You make a surprised noise at the lack of him inside you when you were getting so close, but you don’t have to worry for very long. Before you can open your mouth he has you standing, facing away from him, and bent over ninety degrees to brace your hands on the bed.
He thrusts back inside you sharply, slamming his hips into yours and leaving you moaning and curling in on yourself, your legs starting to tremble.
“Come on my cock, pretty girl,” He palms your ass before planting his hands on your hips and using the leverage to pull you back into each of his thrusts, “you’re so close,”
Your eyes slam shut, fisting the sheets as you hang on, every sharp push of his cock driving deeper and deeper. You’re going to have bruises, you’re going to be sore, but none of it matters when he’s making you feel this good.
You sob out a moan, collapsing forward into the bedding but he holds you up, “I can’t,”
“Yes, you can,” He pants, his sweat slick skin connecting again and again with yours.
“Fuck,” You groan, “I’m almost, I’m so,”
“Touch your yourself,” He directs, interrupting your pleasured ramblings, “rub your clit for me, baby,”
You slide a hand between your legs, locating your slick bud with ease and rolling your fingers over it quickly.
“Fuck, there you are,” He groans, “that’s right, baby, come on my cock,”
The same new sensation drops in your gut, your legs start to shake and you’re fairly sure that without his sure hands you’d be crumbling.
“That’s it,” He coaxes you up, never once slowing the sharp snaps of his hips, “there you go, that’s my good girl,”
Something unravels in your gut and you come with a shout, folding in on yourself as your legs quake and your mind whites out. Yeosang wraps his arms around you, curling over your back to keep you steady, and his cock slips free so he can stimulate you through your orgasm with his fingers, more liquid pulsing out of you as he fucks you over the edge.
You’re a quivering mess, and he lets you drop into the sheets, pushing you onto your back so he can stand over you, one hand fisting his slick cock.
“I’m coming,” He groans, “w-where?”
Your hands cup your breasts automatically, and you arch up to offer yourself to him, “On me, baby, come all over me,”
Yeosang groans sharply, his hips thrusting into his tight grip as ropes of silvery white cum paint your skin, covering your belly and breasts and dripping down your chest. He’s panting, his skin flushed pink and sweat covering every inch of his toned chest.
It takes you both a moment to recover, both trembling in the same position as you try to regain your breath, but after a few moments he smiles a hazy, satisfied smile and finds your eyes, “You’re so beautiful,”
Suddenly you feel a bit shy, even despite everything you’ve just done together.
“So beautiful,” He sighs again, pushing his hair back out of his face, and then he drops to his knees.
He hushes your soft protests and this time he tastes you slowly, but with intention. After such rough, intense sex, he follows it with the softest, slowest orgasm you’ve ever had. With slow sucks and gentle licks he brings you through a languid rolling wave that softens your limbs and leaves you sleepy and pliant in the sheets.
You drift, falling into sleep too easily for a first date in a sort of stranger’s apartment.
You wake a little later to a warm sensation on your skin, and you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang sitting next you, freshly showered and wearing black sweatpants and a familiar blank tank top. He draws the wet washcloth over your skin and then stops and smiles when he sees your eyes open.
“Hey,” He murmurs.
“Hi,” You reply softly, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,”
He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry,”
“I think you scrambled my brain a little,” You laugh, covering your face with your hands.
“Hopefully in a good way,” He nudges you.
“Beyond good,” You look up at him, “are you kidding?”
He smiles a little wider, “Good,” he says, “I drew you a bath,”
“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise.
“I thought you might be sore,” He explains, “I know I was a little rough, I hope you’re not feeling it too much,”
You shake your head, “Just a little, but in a good way,”
He nods, “Does the bath sound nice, or would you prefer a shower?”
“Bath is perfect,” You can see that he’s suddenly a little nervous, back to the same man from your date, no trace of Ryu’s husky tones.
“Here,” He offers you his hands to help you up, and guides you towards the connected bathroom suite. It’s large, crisp and clean, and in the corner stands a large spa-like tub filled high with warm water.
“Thank you,” You murmur as he helps you slip into the cocoon of water, the subtle scent of lavender wafting up from the steam.
“Mhm,” He nods, pulling a bamboo stool from the side of the sink and setting it down so he can sit at the edge of the tub and be at eye level with you.
“This is nice,” You murmur, still finding yourself a little shy in the post-orgasm clarity of it all.
He’s quiet for a moment, his fingertips dragging over the surface of the water and then he bites his lip.
Your stomach sinks for a moment, nerves coming back tenfold at the idea that maybe he’d prefer you to go after this, maybe this is all you’d ever have. Maybe he reconsidered what you know about his online persona and maybe he wasn’t willing to take the leap.
“y/n,” He sighs, “this might be forward,”
You look up from the rippling water.
“But what do you think about staying the night? We could order some dessert, maybe keep getting to know each other a little?” He asks.
You can’t fight the smile that blooms over your face, “I thought you might have changed your mind,”
“No,” He reaches into the water to find your hand, twining your fingers together, “not at all.”
“Yeah?” You squeeze his hand.
“I’d be crazy to let this be a one-time thing,” He lifts your hand from the bath and presses a kiss to the back, “I hope you feel the same.”
“I really do,” You twist to the side, leaning over to find his mouth and lock your lips together.
Yeosang cups your cheek, deepening the kiss tenderly, his tongue sweeping against yours, “What are you doing tomorrow night, then?”
“Tomorrow?” You lean back a little.
“Let me take you out again,” He kisses you again, softly this time, “I’m probably supposed to wait a few days, Wooyoung would tell me I seem too eager, but,”
“Who cares about that?” You grin, leaning out of the bath far enough to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, “It’s a date,”
“And Sunday?” His hands slide down your back.
You nuzzle his nose with yours, “I have a date,”
“Oh,” He says, deflating instantly.
“You might know him,” You tease, “he owns this lovely little cafe,”
He laughs, his forehead leaning on yours, “You’re mean,”
summary: You were supposed to be nothing but a pleasing meal to sate San’s unruly appetites. He was never supposed to lose himself in you.
(prequel to ‘consumed’ but no context necessary)
wc: 6.8k
general warnings: dubcon w/ vampiric persuasion, blood drinking, supernatural strength, alcohol consumption, pov switches, your blood is like catnip to vampires, San is obsessed with you 👍 (and almost kills you by accident 😬 )
smut warnings: rough sex, piv, marking, biting, pussy job, cum shot (stomach), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex, somnophilia if you squint, nicknames for reader (darling, good girl, love)
a/n: reader uses she/her pronouns and wears a dress
a/n²: welp i told myself i’d ease back into tumblr real slow but the brain weasels demanded to post this fic as soon as it was finished oop. hope you enjoy ♡
The thing is, San has a soft spot for humans.
Wooyoung always teases him it’s because he grew up in the countryside; his parents kept chickens and goats, the farm two miles over had a herd of Hanwoo. He’s used to being surrounded by livestock; already had a soft spot for them when he still was human himself.
Maybe Wooyoung has a point. It never mattered to San that any of those animals might end up on his plate; that didn’t stop him from laughing in delight when the chickens tried to jump on his shoulders, or break out in a dimpled smile when the cows meandered over for headpats if he stopped by their field.
Now, San will admit; humans, for all their inferiority, are still more… entertaining than the livestock he grew up around. More complex. He’s still young enough to remember the fleeting depths of a mortal life, turbulent emotions packed tightly into a mere century, often less.
They have their enjoyable charms — and San can’t deny he enjoys humans the most when they enjoy him.
The other members of his coven never really understood; Hongjoong scolding San for playing too much with his food, increasing risk of exposure. Yunho winking knowingly at him, thinking they are the same because he does play with his food. Or Jongho’s bafflement, who sees feeding as little more than a practical necessity.
And Seonghwa? Seonghwa always smiles with love at his fledgling, the approving mother whose sons can do no wrong in his eyes. Humans are a curiosity to him, not quite worthy of San’s fondness but enough to permit him his eccentricities — as long as San does so responsibly.
San does. He picks his hunting grounds with care.
Nightclubs are among his favourite, the alcohol and drugs doing much of the work for him to take his fill without consequence; but if he wants something quieter, more personal, then a nice hotel bar fits his needs perfectly.
It has the same element of alcohol, while access to a private space is just an elevator ride away. And even if something does go awry, the disappearances of people on their travels is easier to cover up. (See, Hongjoong? There is no need to scold San like an eighty year old child. San knows what he’s doing.)
Besides, if someone comes to a hotel bar alone… they are always looking not to be. Who is San to deny a lonely soul the pleasure of his company, in exchange for a little sustenance?
Smooth jazz breezes through the luxurious interior of the grand hotel that San chose for tonight’s hunt.
He crosses over the elegant floor tiles to the bar with its marble countertop, the soft tinkling of glass and snatches of murmured conversation reaching his ears. If he focused, he could hear every word perfectly, from the man ordering his drinks at the bar, to the couple privately whispering on the other side of the room, to the gabble of ladies chatting in the corner.
San takes place at one of the art deco stools nearby a lonesome man, at a nice corner seat that allows him clear view of the venue.
Behind the bartender, who is fixing a gin and tonic, large gleaming windows expose the skyline of Seoul. The windows cover the full length of the room and reach all the way up to the high ceiling, allowing for a panoramic view of the city at night, alive with glittering, artificial lights that drowns out the stars — for human eyes, that is.
San can still see the faint constellation dotting the night sky, though even his supernatural vision can’t appreciate their full beauty in the bustling cities of humankind. Thankfully, these cities bring something of their own to appreciate.
He breathes in a deep whiff of air, catching notes of drinks and food, perfume and cologne, but all of those are swept away by the overpowering scent of human. His gaze wanders over the venue, eyeing the scattered people chatting or staring at their phones, then back to the other man seated at the bar.
The lonesome man looks appetising enough to meet San’s standards, even if he smells a little bland. Not unpleasant though, and just as San considers whether the sweet eye-candy weighs up against a so-so meal, his attention is noticed.
The man gives San a slow smile and, well… he has had far worse fare in the past.
Like his scent, the lonely man is a little bland in conversation, but San tries to find it in himself to look past the boredom. He’s hungry enough for it, anyway. His body craves sustenance, impatient for fresh blood. He’s not used to the way he’s been rationing, not wanting to get scolded by Hongjoong again. (That’s how their coven operates; Hongjoong keeps his brothers in line, so Seonghwa can be their forever indulgent mother in peace.)
While San bargains with himself to accept this easy meal, pretty but uninteresting, it happens.
A new presence enters the bar.
Tendrils of a luscious scent wraps around him, singing to his deepest, most primal instincts. San draws a shuddering breath, his chest glowing as his lungs fill up with the sudden rich fragrance that invades his senses. It overwhelms all else, his companion’s voice fading into a far distance.
A blurred figure moves in the reflection of the windows, and the world slows down to a crawl as San turns his head to see this alluring creature in the flesh. To see you.
You’re a vision as lovely as the sunrise, glowing with a brightness that blinds San to all but the sway of your hips as you walk past. His heart pounds at this feast for the eyes as well as his soul, wrapped up in an elegant cocktail dress, and his hunger rages at him to pounce when you glance back at him with a cheeky, inviting smile. Already his canines threaten to elongate, and San bites down a frustrated growl at his poor show of control, like he’s some teenage boy popping a boner at the mere sight of a little cleavage.
You make a point of arching your back as you sit down just a few seats away. San hears you order a whiskey, licking his lips at the thought of that smokey flavour dispersed through your fragrant blood.
San barely hears the man next to him anymore.
The boring handsome man tilts his head, perhaps sensing that he is about to lose his one-night stand. (What is his name again? Did San ever really remember it?) “So… I’ll be going up to my room …” he suggests, the implication obvious.
“Sure,” San hums, trying not to be unkind but he can barely think, starved and agitated; his world is turned upside down, like you and your blood are the ones consuming him from the inside. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Oh. I, ah, I thought… perhaps…” the man tries, dejectedly.
San tears himself away from you, giving his former target a mournful smile. “I can’t, not tonight,” he soothes, giving a light outward push of his pheromones. “But… if I happen to make it here tomorrow… and if I happen to see you…”
His ambiguous promise and coercive pheromones are enough to render the man pliant, his disappointment morphing into a hazy smile. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe I’ll see you,” he says, his speech a little slurred as though drunk, and he slinks off. Leaving San free to aim all his attention at you, the delectable meal that just fell straight into his lap.
…but your attention is not aimed solely at him, San is a little miffed to discover.
You’re slowly nursing your whiskey with your phone at your ear, staring off at the city skyline while you chat away at some inconsequential nobody, undeserving of the pleasure of your voice.
Sharp jealousy stabs through San’s heart like a wooden stake. Angry hunger coils deep in his stomach, to tear apart the worthless lowlife on the other end of the line for daring to keep you from him. To throw you onto the bar and claim you right here and now, to sink his fangs in your neck and his fingers in your tight cunt as he proves that whoever you’re talking to, they could never give you what he can, drowning you in sublime ecstasy as he takes his fill.
—Fuck, wait what’s wrong with him? San tightly squeezes his eyes shut, trying to reign in his hunger. He hasn’t been this volatile since he was a Newborn, with Mother Seonghwa’s blood pumping fresh through his veins. He feels dizzy, weird, this is—
“Okay, so when you texted ‘hot guy’, how hot are we talking? Spill.”
A distant voice pierces through San’s dark discorded thoughts. His eyes snap open, meeting yours.
“Hm… the weather has been pretty balmy. Can’t remember the last time we had a summer like this,” you muse to the person on the phone. You take another slow sip of your drink, licking your lips as you put the now-empty glass back down, never breaking your studious gaze away from San.
San’s strange dizziness evaporates in the blink of an eye, all his agitation relaxing into slow amusement now he knows the true motive of your phonecall. Sweetened indulgence fills him at your little game. Cute. Thinking you can toy with him like this, oblivious to his true nature; that his augmented hearing allows him to listen in on the full conversation, not your side alone.
“Girl, then what the hell are you doing, talking to me? He can’t rizz you up while you’re on the phone!”
You giggle, “Oh, I think this nice weather will stick around for a while, I’ll have all the time in the world to check out the local sights. Besides, what good ever came out of rushing anything?”
San scoffs lightly, shaking his head in amusement. He orders another drink from the bar — and sends one your way too. You blink in surprise when the bartender brings you a new whiskey, but then pause your conversation to tip your glass in thanks.
You make a good show of pretending to be unaffected by him, but San is fully tuned into you now. All other noises have faded away, allowing him to sense even the slightest speeding of your heartbeat. He did not think it possible, but your scent sweetens even further at his attention, enriched with whole new depths of tangy aroma as your arousal stirs.
“What was that?” the voice on the phone demands. “Mr Balmy Summer is looking at you, isn’t he? Babe, hang up the damn phone or I’ll do it for you. I swear, if your bratty ass ruins a sure thing just because you wanna—”
“Okay, okay,” you laugh, a silver tinkling sound that dizzies San all over again. “Too bad you have have to go… Talk to you later, alright?”
You smile at San as you put down your phone. “Thanks for the drink,” you say, a lively gleam in your eyes. “I suppose I owe you now.”
San’s hunger flares anew at the suggestive purr in your voice, urging him to take all he is owed. No one is watching. No one would notice a chaste kiss on the neck, lips lingering, a subtle hand on your mouth to stifle your moans as fangs pierce flesh. You’d like it. He knows you would.
Temptation plucks at the weakened strings of San’s self-control — but he manages to overcome it, Hongjoong’s warning for discretion yanking him back.
Besides… you had a point. What good ever came out of rushing anything? A treat like you deserves to be enjoyed at his leisure.
“Nothing owed,” he says with a grin, the one he knows makes his dimples pop. Predictably, your eyes light up at the sight of them. “I like taking care of people in need.”
“Oh? I didn’t realise I was in need,” you smile slowly, tilting your head to rest in the palm of your hand, elbow on the marble countertop. Your neck is on full display, leaving San with no choice but to contemplate the delight of your exposed jugular.
San licks his lips, trying to remember why he didn’t want to rush. “Yeah, I think you are,” he says, his voice deep and smooth. “Of a little attention, maybe.”
“‘Maybe’? So you’re not sure then?” you tease, but your heartbeat jolts, heat searing through your veins. “I didn’t take you as someone with a lack of confidence.”
San takes his drink and stands up, unhurried as he walks over and sits down right next to you. His knee now brushes against yours. He wonders if you realise you’ve leaned in closer.
“Confidence is not an issue,” San hums, darkened eyes tracing the motion of you raising your glass to your lips. “I just like to get to know people a little more before making too many assumptions.” “I’d like to know you more,” he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t need to.
“You don’t make too many assumptions?” you ask, coyly brushing your foot against San’s leg. Your heart pounds. “Then what do you assume?”
San’s intense gaze is heated as he looks you over, his nod slow but decisive as he comes to his conclusion. “That you deserve someone who’ll take good care of you tonight.”
“Hm,” you hum, lazily circling your fingertip over the rim of your emptied glass. “That’s a fair assumption.”
San’s smile widens with a flash of teeth. He recognises an invitation when he hears one. “I could take care of you. Could treat you real good. Give you everything you deserve.”
There’s the tiniest hitch in your breath when his hand rests on your knee.
Your head spins from just a light touch. Fuck, this guy wasn’t kidding about his confidence. His dark eyes have you pinned, his overwhelming aura threatening to swallow you up whole. “Everything…” You savour the way the word tastes on your tongue. “Bold. You think you have what it takes?”
Your handsome stranger doesn’t answer, gently rubbing his hand over your leg instead while the other clasps your chin. Your breath hitches a little sharper as he leans in for a kiss, slow but assured you will accept him.
Anticipation buzzes under your skin, all else fading from existence as his lips slot over yours perfectly; warm and soft, pressing into you with a firm, languid intensity that has you melting into him. You taste the liquor on his breath, inhale the dizzying scent of his cologne, smokey vanilla along with something you can’t quite identify, alluring and irresistible, a strange fuzziness coating your mind. More drunk on him than you could ever be on the alcohol. The kiss is far too brief but he lingers close, gently nudging his nose against yours.
“What do you think?” he murmurs, a light rasp in his voice that sparks through you, igniting a pulse of heat between your thighs. “Want to give me a try?”
You shudder, struggling to keep up your facade of nonchalance. You had your fun leading this stranger on a playful chase, but he is right behind you now, breathing down your neck, his claws catching on your heels. You’re struck by the distinct feeling that he’s been the one playing with you all along; merely entertaining your need for a chase, a sleek panther who knows he’s leading his prey into an inescapable trap. He could have gone for the kill at any time.
To think, you hadn’t even meant to pick up a one night stand. You were just looking for a fun flirtation to chase off the boredom, maybe pick up a few drinks free of charge. Get a little confidence boost before your work conference kicks off tomorrow.
A stolen kiss at most, you’d told yourself — but your handsome, perfect stranger has stolen his kiss, and you’re aching for more of his thievery.
“…I’m willing to give you a chance to prove it,” you say, a poor final attempt at pretending to be in control.
He knows it too, a cocky curve to his smile that has no right to be so attractive. Dammit, you don’t even know this guy’s name. And so you ask, shivering as he murmurs “San. Call me San,” in your ear. His eyes burn hotly when you give your own name in turn.
“So, San… do you want to get out of here?”
His grin widens, and you can’t help but feel like a mouse who has pried open the cat’s maw, crawling between rows of sharpened teeth of their own free will. Offering yourself up to be devoured whole.
San does not hesitate for even a second.
Your mouth is claimed in another kiss, rougher than before, and that fuzzy feeling returns as his odd cologne washes over you again, flooding your brain. Like a fog rolling over your consciousness, the world disappears in a blur. All you know is your mysterious stranger, San. San. You cling tightly onto his wide shoulders, deepening the kiss with a needy moan.
The wet heat of his lips is scorching, and you whimper when he breaks away, his giggle dizzying. “Fuck, maybe I overdid it a little,” he laughs huskily, his words as confusing as his insistence to pry your lips off the freckled expanse of his neck. “Sorry about that, darling. Come, let’s find some privacy first.”
“San…” you whine, and he groans at the sound.
His name sounds perfect from your pretty lips, the crotch of his pants uncomfortably tight already. You’re so beautifully responsive, grasping at him with needy fingers after barely a nudge of his pheromones; like this chance meeting was meant to be, you were meant to be found by him. Fuck, you smell so good. You didn’t need the extra push to be compelled, he knows that — but San just couldn’t help himself, couldn’t afford any risk to have you slip through his grasp. He has to taste you.
Still, he eases back on his preternatural influence. Already he notes the bartender’s raised eyebrow; there is no need to draw more attention as he guides you to the hotel’s wide hall and into the elevator.
You stumble only once on the way there, and again when San crowds you into the cabin before the door even fully opens. You fall into him with a broken moan and shakily press the button for your floor. He shudders at how your skin burns up under his touch, radiating heady arousal in deep waves, just for him, all for him.
He roughly turns you around, your hands pressed against the mirrored elevator wall as his arms lock around your waist. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck with a growl, taking a deep inhale of your pure scent, no longer blemished by food and drinks and other, inferior humans.
You’re something special, that much is undeniable by now. More than just a quick meal — though that won’t stop San from taking his fill. No, it’d be a crime against his morals not to feed from you, like leaving an exquisite culinary dinner untouched to be wasted and thrown out in the garbage.
He laps at your pulse point, whining impatiently as he grinds against your backside. Soon. Soon he will familiarise himself with every fragrant note of your blood, a sure feast for his discerning palate.
"W-wait,” you suddenly whimper, pushing at his hands. “Stop, I—”
Your eyes lock with his in the mirror, but San already knows what’s wrong. Bitter tints of confusion and doubt taint your sweet aroma; his feathery touch of pheromones has worn off, leaving your emotional state vulnerable to crash down. A budding anxiety is etched into your face as the ecstasy starts to fall away, trying to comprehend what is happening to you — but you do understand one crucial thing;
A predator has his lips pressed right against your jugular.
“I— I think I left my phone downstairs,” you stammer, uselessly squirming against your hunter’s grip. “I have to go back.”
San growls into your neck, yanking you closer. He’s transfixed on your face in the mirror, how you whine at the sudden firm pressure of his fingers on your clothed slit, bunching up your dress. How you shudder and relax in his hold as he flares his scent again, generously this time. Enveloping you with him until all doubt is washed away, leaving only the certainty you are right where you belong.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, rubbing circles into the growing dampness of your panties. “I’ll take real good care of you tonight. You want to be taken care of, don’t you?”
You whimper, instinctively arching into his hand. “Y-yeah.”
“Are you sure you need to go back?” San purrs, his tongue darting out to tease against your frantic pulse.
Your eyes roll back with a decadent moan when San’s fingers push past your underwear, finding slick arousal. “…I… mgh, ah ahh… N-no, need to stay, stay… San…”
He groans at the stuttered plea of his name, desperate with want. “Good, such a good girl,” he rasps, pulling his hand away from your leaking cunt. You whine in complaint and it’s not easy to deny you pleasure, but San needs something of you on his tongue before his self-control shatters apart.
He sucks off his glistening fingers with an indulgent moan; your slick is not what he truly seeks, but it’s enough to tide him over.
The elevator opens with a soft ‘ping’, and the way to your hotel room is a messy scramble, your lips unwilling to part from San’s heated skin. So deeply entangled that you almost trip over one another, until San puts his preternatural strength to its best use and hoists you up with ease. Instinctively you curl around him, burrowing your face into his shoulder as your legs lock around his narrow waist. He doesn’t even know if he and you were seen, too distracted by more important things;
Things like your gasp when San shoves you against the door the instant he’s made it inside your room. Or the way his fingers push into your soft thighs, your body pliant to his touch. You cling onto him with an eager moan as he rolls his hips into you, dragging his achingly hard cock against your soiled panties.
Your head rolls back against the door, and everything inside San sharpens at the sight of your vulnerable neck. A wild snarl lacerates across his face, his vision narrowing with jagged intent.
“S-San, please—”
Bright and searing, your desperate voice cuts through San’s blind hunger. He presses his forehead into your shoulder with a whine, sinking his teeth into his own bottom lip to drive off his frenzy for just a little longer. Not yet. He promised he’d take care of you and fuck, he will do just so. He will give you everything you want, all of him, anything to repay your unvolunteered generosity of sustaining his life.
With a few urgent, long strides, San carries you over to the hotel bed, falling into the soft sheets of Egyptian cotton together.
The breath is knocked out of your chest with a sharp moan as San descends on you, swallowing all your noises with his hungry mouth, famished for you. He forces your thighs apart with his knee, groaning in satisfaction when you spread yourself open for him willingly. San vaguely hears fabric rip as he pulls at your dress and his own clothes, but he pays it no mind, too caught up in the slide of skin against skin, the arch of your spine pressing your chests together, the wet heat that slicks up his fingers as he rubs between your lower lips. You cry out when he finds your clit with every stroke.
Fuck, the room is hot. San feels dizzy, his body like a furnace, endlessly burning with your cries to fuel him. “What do you want, darling?” he rasps between kisses. Two of his thick fingers press inside you, curling in search of the spot that twists your face into wretched pleasure. “How do you want me? Tell me, I’ll give it to you, I’ll give it all.”
San doesn’t expect you to answer, the way you’re gasping and trembling underneath him, already overwhelmed by this small taste of his boundless gratitude. No, he expects to take matters in his own hands, to seek out your pleasure points by chasing the rich arousal in your scent — but then your hand suddenly presses against his chest, and San freezes as you try to push him off.
Frustration itches at him like an ache. Why? Why would you push him away? San’s brow knits with agitated hurt, trying to understand why you’d refuse him now. Isn’t he giving you exactly what you desire, feeding into your cravings so he can sate his?
You whine when San doesn’t budge. “Please, wanna—” you strain, uselessly trying to move him, “—on top, please—”
Oh.
You grasp at San’s chest, your plea jolting through him; all irritation and distress is pushed aside at the realisation he misunderstood you for the second time tonight. San melts into a pleased, languid smile, now knowing better than to think you would ever deny him — so why would he deny you? He pulls you along as he lays on his back, leaving you to straddle him just as you want.
“Of course, of course you can, my darling,” he coos, his eager fingers creating indents in your sides as he firmly rocks you into him. “That’s it, take me,” he rasps as his flushed cock pushes at your entrance, “take whatever you fucking want. It’s all for you, anything for a sweet, perfect thing like you, f-fuck—”
His voice breaks into a low groan as you sink down on him, your plush cunt swallowing him up. You’re still so tight — but even your body seems to understand that you’re meant for him, leaking around his aching cock as your snug walls part for him, inch by delicious inch.
You bow over with a whimper when you bottom out, arms shaky as your hands lean on his chest to steady yourself. The roll of your hips starts slow, testingly, your eyes fluttering shut like you’re trying to memorise the feeling of him, every vein rubbing inside your twitching cunt.
San lets out a pained groan from the effort to allow you this moment. His fingers dig harder into the soft meat of your waist, leaving deep crescents. Hunger roils through him, growling at him to try and break the skin under his nails, lick your blood off his fingers. It’d be so easy to tear into a vulnerable human like you…
The animalistic urge claws at San’s ribcage, rattling to break free. He burns with the effort to hold it off, gritting his teeth, a hint of fangs prodding at his bottom lip.
You gasp at the force of his grip on your waist, eyes snapping open. But there is no fear as you clasp your hand over San’s, all wiped away by the hazy veil he’s drawn over your mind. No, San’s desperation only brings a dazed smile to your face, fingers squeezing around his hand encouragingly — blissfully unaware of the violent struggle behind his heated gaze.
San can’t tear his eyes away from your smile; your innocent delight at his relieved whine when the roll of your hips finally picks up.
“Oh you’re needy, aren’t you?” you tease, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip, and you giggle when he instinctively snaps at your fingers, trying to catch skin between his teeth.
You’re right, of course. San is needy. For you, more of you, more than the warmth of your sweet cunt leaking around his cock, more than your pitched breaths as pleasure builds. Your head falls back when you find an angle, shameless moans spilling past your pretty lips.
Unlike San, no inhibitions hold you back; riding him with mindless intent, sweat beading on your skin as you bounce in his lap, lost in the pleasure of him.
San aches from it, down to his core, shaken by the perfect equilibrium of your desperation matching his, needing him as much as he needs you. Your eyes squeeze shut, face contorting with pleasure like the way he fills you up goes beyond the physical, nourishing an empty aching cavity inside your soul.
And for one quiet moment… San’s violent hunger is appeased.
It’s the eye of the storm as he looks up at you in your blissful state. Time dilates and stretches to a slow crawl, all sound dampened into a dreamlike hush until he can hear only two things; your ragged breaths, echoing in his head like soft whispers, and the thumping of your heart, rapid and slow all at once.
He sits up to wrap his arms around you, unable to bear the distance between his mouth and your body.
You whine at the strength of his grip, forced into a shallow rut. “Please,” you gasp when he noses at your neck to seek out your pulse again. “Please.”
“Sweet, smells so sweet…” San groans, clutching tightly onto your wriggling body. Soft lips and sharp teeth tend to your delicate skin. Should he here…? Now…? Your heartbeat pounds faster, faster, the drum of it sending a sharp rush through him. His grip tightens, like you might slip from his grasp like a dream. Eagerly he suckles at the tang of your sweat, his canines scraping over heated flesh — until your rich scent is invaded by a sour note, and a whimper of pain cuts through his ravenous haze.
Slowly, he comes back to himself, just enough to realise you’re barely able to breathe, smothered bruisingly against his chest.
He feels his nails digging into your skin, your weak attempts to create enough space for your lungs to pull in air. It takes a long, strenuous moment before San can convince himself to relax his hold, but your eyes tear up, your breaths wheezy, and sharp lashes of guilt break you free.
“Shh, it’s okay, darling, it’s okay,” San murmurs soothingly, apologetically gathering you in his arms again; gentle this time. He encourages you to tuck your head under his chin, his hand stroking your sweaty hair. “It’ll be better now, I know just the right spot for a tasty thing like you.”
You make a faint, confused noise at his phrasing — but it turns into a startled yelp when San tosses you onto your back.
Firm hands knead your thighs, pushing your knees up against your chest as he spreads them. San groans as his cock slides through your glistening folds, sucking him in every time he rubs over your entrance. He lets out a pleased hiss when you grab at his ass, trying to pull him even closer, to split you apart on his cock.
You whine in frustration when he resists. “Please, inside, inside me, please,” you sob, begging deliriously for him; but this is your one desire he’s too selfish to fulfil.
Still, San does not leave you wanting. Your mouth falls open as he ruts against your needy cunt, whimpering as the underside of his slick cock catches your clit. San bucks harder into you; he does not intend to last. Sweat drops off his face onto your trembling body, arching up as you desperately claw at him — until all your whimpered moans are strangled in your airways, your cunt clenching around nothing as you convulse underneath him. San’s eyes roll back with a snarl at the overwhelming spike of arousal in your scent, his hips stuttering as he finds his release together with you, spilling hotly over your stomach.
He gives you no time to catch your breath; San yanks your hips up and dives down to plunge his tongue in your weeping hole. Revelling in the taste of you, purely you, unsullied by his seed. He laps at your fresh slick as your cunt flutters around his ceaseless tongue, drinking in your hitched cries.
Half-lifted off the bed, there’s nothing you can do but succumb to San’s feast — but you don’t resist even when he lowers you back down, instead freely allowing him to devour you. Your fingers tangle through his hair, desperate to keep him right where he is, but again San is forced to disregard your wishes.
He groans as he sucks a messy wet patch into the soft meat of your thigh, inhaling deeply. Here, the blood just underneath vulnerable skin sings out to him, right here.
San catches your arousal on his fingers, then smears it generously over his chosen spot. It’s time.
His thumb rubs at your clit, almost absent-mindedly while he uses his other hand to easily pin down your waist. “P-please, please,” you mewl, uselessly bucking against his hold.
“Do you want it, darling?” San rasps, his pupils completely dilated as he looks up at you, at the beautiful wreck he’s turned you into.
Your teary eyes cause a twitch in his cock, your hair a mess, lips puffy from his earlier kisses. You sob at his question, furiously nodding your head. “I do, I do.”
San hums blissfully at your consent, even if given in ignorance of what that truly means. Finally, his fangs sink into your thigh—
—and releases with a startled growl when your blood hits his tongue.
With shaking eyes, he stares at the crimson rivulet trickling down your marred thigh. He knew you’d taste sweet, he knew, but… but…
The last ragged thread of San’s self-control snaps. You cry out as his fangs plunge back into you with a feral groan, far greedier than he ever intended to be. Your scent had called San like a beacon, but nothing prepared him for the divinity pouring forth from your broken skin.
He disappears into his hunger, in the way you convulse against him with pleasure and pain. Too deep under San’s control to fully grasp what’s happening to you.
With visceral clarity, San remembers the first time he ever fed on a human being. Arteries torn apart by his fangs, fresh blood bursting in his mouth. He’d never tasted anything like it, pure vitality in liquid form — but he never thought of blood as more than food before now. Never thought of it as beautiful.
Your moans grow weaker as San takes and takes from you, though he is always sure to give too, his thumb still on your swollen clit, coaxing you towards your peak.
San has always prided himself on his self-control, feeding with discipline; knowing when he’s had enough and when to release his prey back into the world. He tries to treat you with that same discipline, he really is, but there is no taking his lips off of your skin, not when you whimper and shake underneath him, feeding him your cresting pleasure as if it is his own.
Your steady climb pulses through your blood, thrumming vibrantly, until you fall apart with one last burst of energy. He whines at your gasped cries of his name, jolting against his steel hold on your waist, your essence flooding with a rich heat that warms him from the inside, saturating his own inferior blood with your perfection.
Finally San manages to tear himself away from the fresh wound on your thigh, contenting himself with sucking your slick off his fingers instead. He groans at the mingling of tastes. His stomach is full, his body sated, and yet San still finds himself hungry.
He should stop. His tongue darts out to lap at the bite mark. He has to stop. His red-smeared lips suck at the dried blood that dribbled down earlier. Why can’t he stop—?
A stubborn grogginess clings to your consciousness, struggling against your body’s attempt to wake. There’s a nagging headache that filters through the fog, a faint pain in your chest, and a more immediate throbbing on your thigh. Your hands feel cold, but there’s a welcoming warmth pressed against your back, a solid presence spooning you. Th-the guy from last night? Memories only come back to you in pieces, strange and blurry. Dammit, why is it so hard to think?
Ragged breaths fall on your ear, joined by a soft whimper when you feel a hard pressure against your ass. Clumsy fingers grasp at your thigh, and you wince as they dig into that painful mark to lift your leg, opening you up.
A thought of alarm tries to form in your head, that something isn’t right, but the thought is snuffed out by a whiff of your handsome stranger’s cologne. You’re dizzy, too weak to question the soothing warmth that seeps through your mind and body.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” the man whimpers between nips at your neck. San, your shattered memory faintly remembers. “I don’t usually feed twice, but— but fuck, you— you’re—”
“F-feed?” you gasp, trying to understand what he’s saying. His canines are strangely sharp as they scrape over your skin. Like they’re…
The thought flees away from you as he rocks his hips, his thick cock nestled between your sensitive, fluttering walls. You moan lowly, struggling to catch your breath even at the light stimulation. Everything feels so heavy, so sluggish, you can’t move—
“I’m sorry.” San tenderly strokes your arm. “Sorry sorry sorry—” babbling pleas until he silences himself by plunging those sharp canines in your neck.
There should be pain, some distant part of you realises. It should hurt, to have him break through skin and flesh, sucking at the wound. There’s a numb ache, but it comes from far away, just like the sparks of pleasure of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot with every upstroke. You feel fuzzy and safe, like you are exactly where you belong. Something about that doesn’t make sense, but you can’t question it.
San’s moans raise goosebumps on your skin, muffled whines as he shudders and spills inside you. He stays there, but his teeth finally detach from your neck, replaced by gentle kisses.
“S-Sannie…” you sigh out as blackness drifts into your vision.
His voice is the last thing you register before consciousness fades again, softly murmuring, “So sweet… Fed me so well, my love…”
You pass out with a smile.
San snaps out of his euphoria when you go limp in his arms, his own heart racing as yours grows fainter, slowing down until he can barely sense your weak pulse. Panic grabs at his throat as your pulse continues to fade, along with your shallow breaths.
“N-no, wait,” he stutters, sitting upright and taking your feeble body with him, clutched tightly against his chest. “Don’t— no—”
Cold dread trickles down his spine, freezing his newly imbued blood. Mindless, San presses frantic kisses against the wound on your neck, like he can return all he drank from you. Too much, he took too much. He can’t hear your heart anymore over the hammering of his own, guilt rippling through him with nauseating waves. He hasn’t killed any prey in decades, and you are so so much more than mere prey. Fuck.
“Don’t go, don’t go, I’ll do better,” he chokes, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “I’ll take care of you, I promise, promise. J-just don’t go. I’ll keep you safe, please don’t go.”
San nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder with a soft whine, his eyes prickling. He fucked up. He fucked up. Tonight, the most perfect creature fell straight in his lap and he instantly lost you again to his own brutal impulses.
His arms tighten around you, willing you back to him — and some part of you must have listened, a weak moan escaping past your lips.
San’s heart soars as you blink at him with bleary eyes, unfocused and confused. You try to move, but San shakes his head, keeping you in place. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassures, squeezing his arms. “You’re back, you’re okay.”
He breaths heavily, but slowly calms as he hears your heartbeat again. Weak, but hanging on.
San has always prided himself on his self-control. On his ability to feed with discipline. To know when he needs to release his prey back into the world. That’s the way of things, how it has always been.
He can’t. He can’t let go of you, ever again.
You stare up at San with shaky eyes, but there is no fear in them, no anguish over your close brush with death; still safely enveloped in the comforting influence of San’s pheromones. How could he ever take that safety away from you? No, no it’s better you stay by his side. You need to stay.
“I’ll do better,” San promises, gently kissing your temple. “You’re safe, you’re safe now. I’ll take real good care of you, okay? You’re right where you belong. Always.”
Kindly MDNI coz all are SMUT so kindly keep yourself away from here (but if anyone has any soft or fluffy aus on Woosan please recommend it to me, I haven’t read one and I want to read so bad…I will add them here on the list after reading it)
If you want to read mine:
Winning Dessert - @starillusion13
Our Girl - @starillusion13
And now the recs I would love to read again:
2k sleepover event - @cheollipop
Hard Hours - @cheollipop
There, there, Kitty - @cheollipop
One more rep - @cheollipop
Knockout - @igbylicious
DJANGO - @last-words-ofashootingstar
Hard Hours - @wooyoungmybelovedhusband
Party of Three - @cybrsan
Two is better than one - @kuromiiy
Behave - @bibittybopittybadbxtch
Love Language - @hwallazia
Fucking sense into you - @theysaidhush
Like a CHAMP - @shinestarhwaa
Whichever way(Series) - @igbylicious
11:30 pm - @mingis-lightbulb
What are friends for? - @anyamaris
Air freshener - @beenbaanbuun
Blue Bird - @seonghwaddict
Welcome to the agency - @nirvanawrites111
the leaders - @atzfilm
Three Hearts as ONE - @cybrsan (its not a SMUT but an apocalypse au but so pathetic and nice😭)
Pairing: Hongjoong x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB)
Genre: smut, crack, strangers to lovers, Frat Bro!AU
Rating: M (18+)
Warnings: smoking/edibles, stoner!hongjoong agenda, woosan side pairing, oral fixation (as in the author reader is obsessed with joong's mouth), to be fair it's a very filthy mouth, dry humping, biting/marking, tit pinching/sucking, fingering, hongjoong goes downtown & eats it like a vulture, aka cunnilingus, wet & messy, cum eating, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism
Word Count: 7.1K
Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me
Summary: When your friend keeps dragging you to frat parties, all you want to do is find a place to hide and get high. You definitely don't expect to meet a man with a devilish smile and an even more wicked tongue.
A/N: Hello I'm back with more Ateez! This one's a very self-indulgent fic about getting high with Hongjoong. It all stemmed from discussions with @kiestrokes about what a gorgeous mouth Joong has 🥴 Lokie, I hope you enjoy what you've wrought 😜💕
Unbeta'd as usual. Like this fic? Want me to keep writing Ateez? Please let me know!
ATZ Masterlist 🍃 Main Masterlist
One hour. That’s all San asked of you. Go to a party with him for one hour, because his crush was going to be there, and he needed your support. As his best friend and roommate, how could you say no?
Two hours into the party, you’re wishing you’d put your foot down. You’re worn out from art studio this week, where it had been your turn to face group critique. Honestly, after that experience, you really don’t want to be around other people for a while. You long to crash on your couch with a stash of junk food and video games and not move until class on Monday. Instead, you’re holding up a wall in a frat house, watching your best friend dance with Wooyoung, the Alpha Tau Zeta brother who’d caught San’s eye.
You’re happy for San, truly, but a bit surprised at how quickly things escalated from “OMG he’s so cute, do you think he’d dance with me?” to Wooyoung climbing your friend like the mountain he is. San looks completely lovestruck as the other man wraps his arms around his shoulders, and you sigh, resigned to your fate.
San had promised that you’d leave together, saying he’d treat you to your favorite waffles at your favorite diner after the party, and you’d agreed, but now that means you’re stuck here for god knows how much longer. You could find him and tell him you changed your mind and you’re gonna go. He’d say okay, but he’d say it with that pout of his, and as long as you’ve known San, that pout has owned your weak ass, so there’s really no point. You’ll just wait.
However, hovering like a third wheel isn’t your idea of a good time, so you decide to find somewhere else to hang out. The room is packed with couples grinding, and you weave around them carefully, trying to avoid the beer sloshing about as a girl beside you really puts her back into it. The kitchen is just as cramped as the living room, a beer pong match taking up most of the space, so you keep wandering, until you come to the foyer, where there’s a staircase to the second floor. Wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the loud music, you start to climb.
It’s much less crowded upstairs. There are a few people scattered along the hallway, talking in small groups, or heading into the bedrooms, all of which have closed doors. You’re a little afraid of what you might walk in on if you open one, so you keep moving, hoping to find a quiet spot to sit and hide.
Instead, as you round a corner, you come to a dead end. But to your left, there’s a window that’s cracked ajar, night breeze just teasing you with enticing coolness after the rank humidity of the dance floor. You press your palms to the glass, peeking out. It looks like the window opens onto the roof of the back porch.
Gently, you lift the sash until you can stick your head out. The roof is flat, not sloped. It’s fairly dark, with only the moon above and the string lights crisscrossing the yard providing a pale glow. And, most blessedly, it is devoid of other people.
As quickly as you can, you shimmy out the window.
The backyard is dotted with kiddie pools still full of jello from the last wrestling tournament. In between the pools, the ground is a squishy mess of colorful gelatin and disgusting mud, which means that there are very few partygoers outside right now, besides a handful that you can hear beneath you, hanging out on the porch. But they can’t see you, so you can live with that.
Settling with your back pressed to the brick wall, you take a deep breath, relaxing. Even though it’s so late in the fall that the weather is already flirting with winter, it’s a nice night to be outside. The air is crisp, but you’re plenty warm in your sweater and jeans, toes tapping idly inside your boots. The moon plays hide and seek behind some passing clouds while you observe contentedly.
“No one’s supposed to be out here.”
“Fuck!” You jump, so surprised to hear someone address you. The voice came from the shadows of the opposite corner of the roof, where another window mirrors the one you came through.
There’s a short burst of laughter, and then someone leans into the light.
Reddish-orange hair hangs over a dark brow, above eyes scrunched nearly closed in glee, further expressed by a full bottom lip twisting upwards in a smirk. As you will your racing heart to ease off, a guy you’ve never seen before carefully steps across the roof. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt over a long-sleeved striped shirt and jeans. His shirt doesn’t have any letters on it, but he must be a brother here if he’s trying to tell you what to do.
He’s almost unfairly gorgeous, this stranger who scared you nearly to death, and he’s laughing at you.
You attempt to recover your cool, leaning back against the wall again. “I didn’t see a sign.”
“It’s kind of unsaid.”
“Well, it kind of needs to be said,” you shoot back a little snappily, annoyed that your peace has been shattered. “You’re out here, too, you know.”
“I live here.”
“So that’s fine, then?”
He grins, a wicked thing that has your neck flaming with sudden heat, and slides further out of the darkness, until he’s about an arms-length away. “Ok if I sit here?”
“I mean, if unspoken rules don’t stop you, what’s me literally saying ‘no’ gonna do?”
Another quick ratatat of laughter. “You’re funny.” He drops down beside you, tipping his head back to rest against the wall.
You don’t say anything to his comment, waiting for him to say something else. Like explain why he’s out here or who he is to tell you where you can’t be or anything. A minute passes, then another. You hear the people on the porch heading back into the party and then there’s only the dull thumping of the music inside and the sound of the crickets chirping in the yard.
You wonder if you should say something to the stranger, maybe explain why you’re out here, but he seems pretty content to sit quietly, and if he’s happy to remain silent, so are you. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to actually kick you off the roof, so you release the tension in your shoulders, inhaling deeply again, and match his pose, staring up at the sky.
The wind stirs, brushing your cheek with gentle fingers.
“Not into parties?”
You glance over when he finally speaks. His profile is striking - sharp jawline, straight nose with just the slightest upturn. It makes you wish you had your sketchbook with you. He’d make a lovely model right now, pretty face lit by the soft luminescence of the moon.
“It’s not that. Just been a long week. I was planning on a quiet night in. But my roommate had other ideas.”
“And now you’re stuck here, waiting for them?”
You nod. The stranger hums.
“Yeah, I can sympathize. Kinda hard to have a quiet night here, like… all the time.”
It’s your turn to hum. “But… did you not know what you were signing up for when you joined a fraternity?”
He laughs again. You’re starting to really like the sound. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not supposed to be out here?”
“Do I need to remind you?”
“Fair.”
Another comfortable silence. This is your type of stranger - one who respects the sanctity of quiet moments. After a few more minutes, you decide, fuck it, and reach into your crossbody, pulling out your vape pen. You’re not going to get high high while you wait for San, not the way you had planned to do if you were at home melding with the couch, but you can at least take the edge off.
But before you do, you hold the pen out to the stranger. “Want a hit?”
He raises an eyebrow, nods.
Your gaze lingers maybe a few seconds too long as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece, drawing the smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a few seconds. He hands the pen back with an exhaled thanks.
You take your turn, tipping your face up to momentarily blot out the stars with smoke. The light cherry flavor hangs on your tongue while you hand the pen back over without asking. The stranger takes another lungful.
“So… do you have a name?”
“Of course I do,” you reply. Dumb questions get dumb answers. “Do you?”
His lips curl into a bright smile. “I do.”
Another pass. You check your phone, just to make sure San hasn’t sent you any messages. He hasn’t. He’s probably affixed to Wooyoung’s gorgeous face by now.
“Hongjoong,” the stranger says after another inhale. “I’m Hongjoong.”
“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong. Thanks for not throwing me off your roof.”
“Thanks for the tokes.”
He grins at you again, full teeth, and you can’t help but beam back. He really is rather cute -
“Hongjoong! Are you out here again?”
One of the brothers you’d seen playing pong earlier has his head out the window behind Hongjoong.
“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up, ‘Hwa?”
The other man looks past Hongjoong, squinting into the darkness. “Is someone out there with you? You know no one’s suppo-”
“Seonghwa. What do you need?” Hongjoong’s tone shifts, becoming a little authoritative.
“You better get in here. Mingi’s trying to get everyone to go streaking again.”
“So?” Your pen is still in Hongjoong’s hand, heading to his lips as he takes another puff. “He’s always trying to do that. No one ever agrees.”
“So, I guess he thought the best way to convince everyone was by going first. He’s currently doing naked laps around the beer pong table.” Seonghwa frowns. “It’s really throwing off my game.”
Hongjoong sighs, an exceptionally weary sound. Rising to his feet, he brushes off his jeans. “I better go put a stop to that.” He glances down at you. “If anyone tries to kick you off here, just tell them I said you have my permission.”
“And I need that?”
The smirk returns. And then he has the audacity to wink. Before you can catch your breath, he’s climbing back through the window.
Silence envelops you again. You lift your pen to your lips one more time before tucking it away.
The minutes tick by.
When the clouds drifting across the stars start to look like tantalizing wisps of cotton candy, seemingly close enough that you could reach out and grab some, your stomach lets out a growl. Maybe you should go grab San away and tell him it’s time to bounce. You’ve done your time. There’s a perfectly golden waffle just waiting for you to drown with syrup at the diner.
Besides, you can’t wait out here all night for cute boys who may or may not return. As much as you might want to.
“Again?”
Two weeks have come and gone since San dragged you to ATZ. And now here he is, knocking on your bedroom door and giving you his best puppy dog eyes as he informs you that Wooyoung’s invited him to another party tonight.
“Do you really need me to go? I thought you guys were hitting it off.” The two of them had been exchanging texts like crazy, and had gone on a date last weekend. You hadn’t seen your best friend this giddy in ages.
“We are. He’s amazing,” San sighs, a faraway look in his eyes. “But I need you there so I have a reason to leave. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.”
You try, you really, really do, but you can’t stop the laughter that bursts out of you. San has proudly called himself a slut on more than one occasion. In the three years you’ve been besties, you’ve never known him to deny himself some dick.
“Stop laughing!” San puffs his bottom lip. “I’m serious. I really like him, and I want to take it slow.”
“That’s so sweet,” you coo, pinching his cheeks. He ducks his head with a tiny “aish,” but you know he’s not mad. “But why can’t you just make up a reason not to stay?”
The pout returns. “Because he’s hot and I’m weak. Please, help me out?”
Sighing, you cross your arms. He’s not the only one without a backbone. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?”
“I knew you’d ask that.” With a grin, he holds out a small ziploc baggie. “Here.” He tosses it your way.
It’s a brownie. You grin. “Oh honey, you baked!”
San returns your smile. “The batch came out a bit stronger than usual, so that’s why it’s just a little square. Half of that is probably enough for you. But if you go with me tonight, I’ll let you have the rest of the pan.”
And just like that, you find yourself at another party packed full of people. This time, the beer pong table has been replaced with a giant ice luge, with coeds lining up to take their turns slurping jungle juice off the frozen display. You give the luge a wide berth, not wanting the sticky liquid to splash the boots you’re wearing. All the seats in the living room are occupied, and dancers are taking up all the open space left, so again you head upstairs.
Unlike the last time you were here, the roof does not provide you an escape, thanks to the chilly autumn rain that simply won’t let up tonight. It’s like the universe doesn’t want you pulling a Houdini this time. At least you have your brownie with you. You just need to find somewhere to enjoy it while you wait for San.
The doors to all the rooms on the second floor are closed, so you keep moving, climbing up to the third floor. No one’s in the hallway up here, and there’s a room with the door wide open, so you peek your head in.
Rows of books line shelves built into the two of the walls, The third has a fireplace, unlit, with photos of the fraternity brothers hanging above the mantle. There’s a rather nice overstuffed couch and a pair of high-backed chairs facing the fireplace.
“These frat boys live like kings,” you murmur to yourself, creeping forward to examine the portraits. Your eye is immediately drawn to one in particular, a redheaded man with a bright smile, whose photo bears the title “President.”
“I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu,” a voice suddenly declares.
Whirling, you find the same man watching you from the doorway. Tonight, he’s wearing a white shirt decorated with big red hearts, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a pair of tight jeans. And that sexy smirk of his.
You frown, clutching your racing heart. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on people like that?”
“Only when they’re somewhere they shouldn’t be.” Hongjoong taps a sign on the door, which declares in extremely big, bold font: ATZ ONLY - KEEP OUT. “It’s clearly stated that this room is off limits. So what’s your excuse tonight?” Though his words are sharp, the gleam in his eye is playful.
Your lips twitch. “That sign probably would’ve worked better if the door had been closed.” You give him an appraising look. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs making sure your brothers keep their clothes on or whatever?”
While he huffs in amusement, you wander over to one of the walls of books, running your fingers along their spines. They’re all labeled with a year. Grabbing last year’s, you let it fall open to a random page of photos. Wow, some of the brothers appear to be really allergic to shirts -
Hongjoong snatches the album from your hands, closing it with a snap. “That’s private,” he informs you, slipping the book back into its slot. “And don’t try to change the subject. No one’s allowed in here but myself and my brothers. So come on.” He jerks his head towards the door.
“Counteroffer,” you say, producing your brownie from your bag.
Hongjoong pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “What is that?”
“A brownie.”
His eyes narrow a little. “Would you say there’s anything special about that brownie?”
You nod. Hongjoong glances out into the hallway. Then he closes the door.
“You’re awfully easy to bribe,” you inform him as the two of you settle on the couch, you in one corner, him taking the spot next to you. Carefully, you pull the brownie apart, handing him half.
“Don’t tell anyone. Can’t have my reputation getting ruined.” He holds his half up. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” you giggle, tapping your half against his before taking a bite.
Hongjoong devours his brownie in mere seconds. A bit of chocolate clings to his lower lip, his tongue flicking out to capture it, and you force yourself to focus on the remainder of your half, so you’re not just sitting there staring openly at his pretty mouth, as much as you’d like to.
“So, is this your thing? Going to parties just to hide and get high?”
“Ha, no. Not normally. But my roommate keeps insisting that I come with him.”
“And where is your roommate now?”
You snort, licking crumbs from your fingertips. “Probably suctioned to Wooyoung’s face.”
Hongjoong laughs. “Ah, you’re friends with San? He seems like a great guy, from what Woo’s told us.”
“Woo talks about him?” You can’t wait to tell San. You can hear his bashful giggles now.
“Yeah. He won’t shut up about him, actually. It’s nice, but it’s also annoying as fuck.” Hongjoong winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so blunt.”
“No, it’s fine, I get it. I love San, but I can only take so much puppy love before I get nauseous.”
“Exactly.” Hongjoong grins. He sinks down further into the couch, legs spreading open as he gets more comfortable.
The two of you are quiet for a moment, long enough for your brain to start asking questions. Is he planning on staying here with you? You’d kinda figured he’d eat the brownie and then go. Shouldn’t he be down at the party, if he’s the president of the frat?
“You know, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m not gonna do anything in here but melt into the couch for a little while.”
Hongjoong shrugs. His left hand plays in the rip above the knee in his jeans. “It’s not that I’m afraid you’re gonna do something. It’s just…” he trails off for a few seconds, lost in thought. “I’m not in a party mood tonight. You might not have been trying to hide, but I was.”
“Oh. Shit. Do you - would you rather that I leave, so you can be alone?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, you can stay. If you want to. I don’t mind your company.”
“Oh,” you say again, in surprise. Something flutters in your chest when he looks at you. “Okay.”
Hongjoong’s fingers return to the tear in his jeans, picking at the strings. “So… do I get to learn your name tonight?”
Oh, right. You’d never actually introduced yourself on the roof.
He peers at you, clearly waiting for your answer, and the flutter gets stronger. What is it about his gaze that makes you want to tease him?
“I don’t know,” you sigh, tilting your head as you look at him. “Have you earned it?”
His eyebrow quirks slightly. “Didn’t know I had to.”
You merely shrug, biting back a grin. He focuses on the wall opposite the couch, mulling over your words, while you sit beside him, primly arranging your skirt over your tights-covered thighs. The couch is ridiculously cushy and you’re already starting to relax into it.
“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just go downstairs and find San,” he says after a moment.
“That’s cheating!”
“Oh, does that upset the rule breaker?” He clutches his chest in mock horror, grinning when you laugh. “Excuse the fuck out of me.”
“I’m not a rule breaker. I just…” you falter for an explanation.
“Don’t care for parties and prefer pot over people.”
Hongjoong cracks up at the face you make in response to his too correct reading of you.
“You’re doing a terrible job of earning my name, just for your information,” you sniff, but when he laughs harder, bumping his shoulder into yours, you cave, giggling. He doesn’t move away when the laughter tapers off.
You make a little small talk. The usual stuff - what’s your major, where are you from, etc. He’s a music production major and apparently spends all his time in the studio, on the opposite side of campus from where your art studio is located. No wonder you’ve never seen him around before.
Eventually the room falls silent again. If it weren’t for the thumping coming through the floor, you could almost forget there are other people in the house. You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, ears straining to make out the music drifting from the first floor. It’s only the drums and bass that you can catch, something pulsating and rhythmic. Hypnotic, lulling you further into relaxation.
That’s when you feel it. That telltale body buzz that starts in your feet and spreads all over. Your thoughts become a little floaty, each one drifting away before you can really grasp them, and you turn to Hongjoong.
“I think I found the drugs,” you giggle.
Hongjoong lets out a single “ha” from deep in his chest, and then he hums. You let your head fall back against the couch and close your eyes.
“Oh shit, there they are,” you hear Hongjoong say, with another laugh, and you start to giggle again, and when you look at him, he’s watching you, and you wonder what it would be like to kiss him right now, with his face so close to yours. His lips look very kissable, meant to be nibbled and sucked. You long to, biting your own lip as you fantasize about his taste.
Hongjoong sighs. “Damn, I feel good. Thank you. You’re officially my favorite trespasser.”
“Is that a long list?”
His grin widens. “Longer than you’d think.” His eyelids lower a little as he leans closer. The air feels like it’s heating up around you now. Your skin tingles from your high, and it only increases when Hongjoong’s fingers cup your chin. “Can I kiss you?”
“Why?” is what flies out of your mouth in surprise, even though you’re dying to feel his lips on yours.
“Because I like kissing pretty people when I’m high.”
Heat pools in your belly, and you shift on the couch, reaching for him. As your fingers twist in his shirt, your mouths connect. It’s a slow, wet kiss, tongues warm against each other, rolling over and around. Messy, but neither of you care, both lost in the sensation.
When his arms wrap around your back, you slip into his lap, straddling his thighs. His head tilts up to greedily chase your mouth, and you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, shivering at the way he groans. His fingers dig into your shoulder blades as he pulls you down on top of him, so there’s no distance between you, just clothing and heat between you.
Hongjoong nudges your face with his, getting you to turn your head so he can nibble on your earlobe. His hands fondle your ass beneath your skirt, grabbing and pinching the ample flesh through your tights, while his mouth ripples down your cheek and neck, covering your skin in soft kisses, before finding your lips again.
It’s been too long since you’ve made out with someone like this. The last few people you kissed with all treated it like an annoying chore, something perfunctory that had to be performed in order to get what they really wanted. Hongjoong holds you like you’re something to be slowly explored, something to be savored, not just used.
“Feeling good?” He leans back for a second, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he peers at you. His face is flushed, lips darkened from your nipping, and the rather fucked out sight of him has you clutching at his shoulders, desperately pulling his mouth back onto yours.
“So good,” you moan when you come up for air, rolling your hips. He feels so amazing underneath you, hard cock bulging obscenely in his jeans, that you can’t help yourself, humping away mindlessly while you kiss, whining slightly when you can’t quite find the right angle to ease the aching in your clit.
Hongjoong laughs into your mouth, fingers sliding up to grab your hips. “Slow it down, baby,” he whispers, pressing more kisses along your jawline. With his strong grip, he takes control, guiding you back and forth, slower, but more forcefully, his own hips moving to grind himself up into you. “‘M not going anywhere. Take your time.”
Your whole body shudders at his words. With another pitiful whimper, you snake your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair as your mouth dives for his again.
Take your time. If he insists. With his encouragement, you lose yourself in the languorous pace he’s set, soaking panties rubbing on the rough denim below, friction building, a wave that never crests, just rolls on and on. You know you could do this for hours, make out and dry hump like this, without coming. It takes you much longer to come when you’re stoned, but the orgasms are so intense that it’s always worth it.
Your fingers brush over his neck and he shudders beneath you. Intrigued, you lower your mouth to his collarbones, picking a spot exposed by his open shirt, and gently bite down. He groans brokenly, hips jerking upwards, and you lick at the same spot a few times, lazy, slow strokes, before sucking, painting his skin with a love mark.
“Fuck,” he hisses, bucking again, with renewed urgency. Giggling, you sign your work with a light nuzzle before he grabs your chin, frantically bringing your face to his for more kisses, wet and filthy and so sensual that you feel like you’re nearly going feral with desire.
“Hongjoong,” you whine, needing more of him, greedy hands lacing into his hair. Your sense of touch is so heightened right now that the strands feel like silk wrapping around your fingertips.
As you moan again, Hongjoong’s hand travels to your neck, fingers playing there, curling and uncurling. “When you say my name like that, you know what it makes me wanna do?”
“Wha-what?” Your thighs are starting to get damp, covered in slickness from the sound of his husky voice. You grind down harder, gasping in pleasure when he meets your movements with a powerful thrust of his own.
“Sit you on my cock and fuck you stupid.” He bites his lip, looking down at your chest as it jiggles under your sweater. “Let you ride it. Could you do that for me? Ride it real good?”
“Fuck yes!” There’s no hesitation in your answer. It’s all you want right now, to feel him all over you and inside you. Yes, of course you’d be so good for him, because you know he’d be good to you. Even though you’ve only really just met him, you feel it in your soul.
“I bet you would. Ride it like a fuckin’ champ. Make it bouncy.” His right hand squeezes your ass, making you squeal into his kiss.
A dreamlike haze hangs over everything now. You stare open-mouthed while his left hand fondles your breast over your sweater. Then he tugs your top up and your bra down, far enough for the cool air to kiss your exposed skin. His deft fingers pinch your nipple sharply for a few painfully pleasurable seconds before his hot tongue replaces them, and your drug-and-lust-addled brain wonders dumbly for a moment who let out such a shameless mewl before you recognize that it was you.
Time stretches in that surreal way that it does when you’re high, making every minute feel like an eternity. Hongjoong laves his tongue over your other nipple, sucking the pert bud into his mouth, and you keen, head lolling back while pleasure ripples through you. His tongue is magic. You bet he gives good head. You hope you find out.
Unfortunately, though, while you’re wondering what his mouth would feel like on your cunt, time has not actually stopped, and there is still a party going on. Which you are rudely reminded of when it suddenly spills over into the room, popping the little bubble that you and Hongjoong have been hiding in.
“Don’t worry, no one’s ever in- oh, shit!”
A loud curse draws your attention away from Hongjoong’s tongue and to the tall brother standing in the doorway, frozen like a deer. There’s a cute coed holding his hand, peeking around him to see what made him yell.
“Yunho, what the fuck, man?” Hongjoong groans, a scowl twisting his kiss-swollen lips. “Get out!”
You’re moving sluggishly, brain lagging with arousal and what you’re recognizing is a lot of THC for such a small brownie, but Hongjoong seems to have more of his wits about him, as he carefully lets go of your sweater so you’re covered again. He doesn’t try to slide you from his lap, just places his hands on your waist to keep you steady.
Tall guy’s sputtering now. “I-I’m sorry, the door wasn’t locked, and - “
“It’s fine, Yun, just go, all right?” Hongjoong glances at you. “You okay?”
If you were sober, you’d probably be horrifically embarrassed to be caught tits-out. Might even run for the door so you could go home and hide for the rest of the weekend or month or year. But between the brownie and the man currently checking in with you, you’re feeling too good right now to really give a shit what anyone else thinks.
You nod at Hongjoong’s question, beaming happily. A crooked smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face, his thumbs etching tiny circles into your sides.
“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s basically a statue at this point, completely immovable in the doorway. “I know we’re not supposed to let anyone else in here, but seeing as how you have someone else in here, uh… am I gonna get in trouble for this?”
“If I say no, will you fuckin’ leave already?” Hongjoong glares at the other man, and it does not escape your attention how sexy he looks when he’s mad.
“I don’t know. I mean, we’ll leave, but I don’t know if you’re just saying that to get me t-”
“Get out!”
Your sudden shout snaps Yunho into action. He slams the door shut, leaving you alone with Hongjoong, who is gawking at you with his mouth hanging open. Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.
“Sorry,” you apologize, cringing. “I didn’t mean to shout.”
“No, that was so hot,” Hongjoong declares, leaning forward to kiss you eagerly.
“Yeah?” you pant against his lips in surprise.
He nods, nose jostling yours, and kisses you again, and again, until you’re dizzy, needing oxygen, but you’re unwilling to tear yourself away from his mouth. All you want is to lose yourself in him again, crawl back into that heat from before.
Just as you feel it starting to happen, he pulls away.
“We should probably lock the door,” he says, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are studying your face carefully, you realize, looking for any signs of objection. For some reason, that just makes your answer even more affirmative.
“Good idea,” you reply, slipping off his lap and crossing the room in three quick steps. You shoot him a glance over your shoulder as you twist the lock. Either the pot is slowing his reactions as much as it’s slown yours, or he doesn’t care that you catch him openly staring at your ass. He grips his cock through his jeans, hand flexing as he squeezes slightly.
His gaze is too intense even from across the room. It makes you shy, has you lowering your head as you return to the couch. His fingers slide under your chin, tilt your face up to meet his ravenous lips as he guides you onto your back.
Your boots hit the floor one after the other, followed by his sneakers. One of his arms props him up over you. His other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs apart, allowing him to slot himself in between. He swallows your sigh when his fingers roam inwards, slipping against your core.
“Damn, baby, did I do all this?” he asks, rubbing at the dampness seeping through the layers of your panties and tights.
You pluck at the buttons on his shirt, palms skimming over the warm skin that’s revealed beneath. He hisses quietly when you brush over his stomach. Seems it’s not just his neck that’s sensitive. Good to know.
“Yes,” you nod, squirming slightly when he drops his hand to cup you. His thumb applies a bit of pressure so achingly near your clit that you whine, almost as loudly as you’d yelled before. “Please tell me you’re gonna do something about it.”
He smirks then, that maddeningly taunting smile of his. The one that tells you not to be fooled by his quiet demeanor. The one that tells you he’s trouble. “As soon as you tell me your name.”
His hand drags frustratingly slowly upwards, spreading your slickness as it goes, making you whimper. “Hongjoong!”
“No, that’s my name.” His fingertips are crawling now, moving closer and closer to the waistband of your tights, one millimeter at a time.
The anticipation is driving you insane. And it seems you’re not the only one enjoying it, judging by the way he’s rutting his bulge into your thigh.
“Don’t tease,” you complain, pouting.
“But that’s my favorite part,” he shoots back, grinning madly. Fuck. He’s trouble for sure.
His fingers trace shapes over your hips, back and forth, long lines that have you huffing in frustration. Then he curls them under the waistband, pulling them down, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, then another, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as he looks at you, and then -
He stops.
You groan, head tossing back to bounce against the arm of the couch.
“YN, my name is YN, fuck, I yield!”
“That didn’t take long,” he gloats. “So desperate for me. I love it.”
If you weren’t still high, you might be embarrassed. Instead, you’re brazen, whimpering in agreement. You want him, just like he wants you, why bother to hide it?
He finally releases you from your misery by rolling down all that annoying clothing that separates you from him, tossing it onto the floor. A gentle scrape of his fingernails on your bare skin has you trembling, begging for more of his touch. He obliges, lowering his mouth to leave hot-breathed kisses on your thighs.
“Y’know what else I like to do when I’m high?” he asks, watching you with hooded eyes. His hands haven’t stopped moving, are languidly pushing your skirt up to your waist.
“What?”
“Eat pussy.” He licks his lips. “Wanna eat you, baby. Can I?”
“Please,” you groan, reaching for your skirt, pulling it up as far as you can, baring yourself to him. He grins, fingers spreading you open, and you twitch as the little puffs of his delighted laughter swirl over your sensitive skin.
Hongjoong flattens his tongue, dragging it up and down a few times. You keen, fingers digging into the wool of your skirt, clutching the material tightly, when he keeps moving up, circling your clit, before he undulates his tongue, making the tiny nub bounce. Then he switches back to licking stripes, pressing the taut muscle more firmly against you with each pass.
You feel like your entire body is pulsating in time with your clit. “Oh my god.”
“You’re so wet,” he groans happily, lapping without restraint at your pussy, sloppy and loud. “Could fuckin’ drown down here.”
His mouth. It’s sinful, how good he is with it, the way he kisses your folds and sucks on your clit. Uses it to say the filthiest things, keeping up a running commentary:
Look at you, dripping all over the place. Such a mess, baby. Let’s see how much wetter you can get.
Could eat this pretty pussy for hours and never get my fill. Got me so greedy.
Mmmph, love the way you taste. Bet you’re even sweeter when you come.
You don’t catch every word, given the way he mumbles them into your cunt, but you hear enough to have you babbling in response, chanting his name and praising his skills over and over.
When your words dissolve into moans, Hongjoong changes it up, adding his fingers to the mix. His mouth seals around your clit while he strokes inside you, warm walls spreading to allow his lithe digits to plunge in and out. Then he thrusts his tongue into your clenching hole, using his fingertips to roll your thrumming nub around, lightly squeezing as he fucks you with his mouth.
“Hongjoong!” You’re losing your mind, your entire body vibrating with pleasure. “Holy shit, please!” Can’t even finish your sentence, your foggy brain too busy focusing on holding your head up so you can watch him. Drool runs from the corner of your mouth, lips slack as you pant wildly.
He laughs, popping off your clit with a loud slurp. “Please what?” He nuzzles his face against your thigh, kissing it gently. “What do you need?”
“I - I need…” You break off with a sudden mewl as he presses insistently into that soft spot on your inner walls, like he’s trying to leave an impression of his fingertip. “Oh fuck, right there, don’t stop!”
“Don’t worry, I got you,” he vows, catching your eye. His face is a mess, hair damp with sweat, a shiny layer of your arousal smeared all over his mouth and chin. His hips keep rolling into the couch beneath him, and his voice wobbles a little as he speaks, but his gaze is unwavering. “Just lie back and let me do my thing. I’ll get you there.”
He drops his mouth to your cunt again, and keeps his word.
Time expands again as the tension inside you snaps. Your orgasm pulsates through you, flowing like a wave through your tingling body, wiping away all coherent thought, even turning your vision white for a few long seconds. Hongjoong’s fingers continue to massage your g-spot while his tongue still flutters over your clit, and you slowly come back to yourself, inhaling deeply before sobbing his name.
He lifts his head momentarily to observe the results of his hard work. “That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmurs, tongue skimming down to lap at your release. Lost in ecstasy, you thread your hand through his hair, tugging his face closer to your cunt, and ride out your high on his tongue, hips bucking erratically. He voices his approval with a guttural moan.
Like any other time you’re high, you come for several minutes, shaking and twitching, panting and moaning. When your pelvis finally ceases moving and your fingers release their grip on his hair, Hongjoong pulls away. He doesn’t sit up, just lays his cheek on your hip, dark eyes scanning your face.
“I was right. You taste sweet when you cum.”
Jesus. That mouth. You start to giggle, flustered by his statement, both embarrassed and pleased, and he joins you, head bouncing slightly on your shaking stomach. Suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the need to feel him on top of you, to let his weight press you down, anchor you to reality, so with frantic hands you guide him back up to your waiting mouth.
His kisses are slower now, softer. He’s still hard beneath his jeans, grinding into you, but it’s not as desperate as it was when he was humping the couch. You slide your hands down his chest, down his stomach, down to where the buttons on this waistband lay.
Hongjoong ignores your little cry of protest when he suddenly draws away, sitting back on his heels and peering down, glimmering eyes merrily taking in the state of you.
“You’re gorgeous,” he tells you, and you believe him. “I’m glad you broke in here tonight.”
Despite yourself, you laugh. “I didn’t break - you know what? Not important.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring pointedly at his crotch. “Don’t you need help with that? I’m more than happy to return the favor.”
He smirks. “The party’s not over yet. We’ll get there.” Your stomach somersaults at the promise laced into his voice. “But speaking of parties…”
Right. Holy shit, there’s still an entire frat partying right outside these walls. Hongjoong’s unbelievable tongue managed to make you forget that for a while.
“I should probably go downstairs and check on things,” he finishes with a sigh, buttoning his shirt up halfway.
It’s strange, you’re still basking in the afterglow of your climax, and yet you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.
It’s just like when you get really high and then eat an entire convenience store’s worth of snacks. Weed makes you insatiable. Hongjoong just gave you an earth-shattering orgasm and you’re already dying for more.
Maybe you should thank him and let the moment be what it was.
“Right. Of course.” Begrudgingly, you let him go of him. He rises slowly, stretching and rolling his neck. “Um. That was great. I guess… I guess I’ll see you around?”
Hongjoong laughs, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, you’re coming with me.”
Your heart pounds a quick beat at his smile.
“Why?” you inquire. “Worried I’ll learn all of Alpha Tau’s deepest darkest secrets if I stay here alone? Think you need to keep an eye on me?”
“Nah,” he replies, grabbing your hand. You let him tug you to your feet, let him pull hard enough that you crash into him, your palms landing on his chest while he slings his arm around your back to catch you. “I just want to keep my hands on you.”
warnings: making out, cunnilingus, recording dirty videos. basically just a 2k words of my personal hc of hyune’s obsession with kissing and pussy. munch munch munch…
a/n: keeping the tradition of uploading a hyun fic for new years apparently lol even though this isn’t much. happy new year my friends, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! :)
“you’re kind of a freak.”
“hey! that’s- don’t be mean!”
hyunjin is a little bit of a freak, but you love that about him. if you were to look over at the phone propped up on his nightstand, front-facing camera on and filming, you’d be able to see how utterly smitten you are.
“i like you freaky. it’s kinda hot,” you say instead.
you’re already perched snug in hyunjin’s lap, arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders until you remember your angles, quickly deciding instead to rest the hand closest to the phone against hyunjin’s t-shirt clad chest so he can be seen fully in the video. his hands sneak up to cup your ass. they squeeze, knead the skin through your cotton panties.
“so, do we just-?”
“i mean, yeah? right? this was your idea, mister.”
can i film us kissing? in bed? he had said. to help me through lonely nights. and… hard times.
it was an easy yes. not just because you love to indulge hyunjin’s more carnal whims, but because you’re interested in seeing the outcome yourself. how do your lips look when they’re pressed together? would you be able to see the scrunch of hyunjin’s thick brows when you flick your tongue a certain way, the flutter of your eyelashes as hyunjin sucks on your bottom lip? the messy tangle of your slippery, soft tongues?
“shouldn’t there be some build up to it? like movies do, like-”
“kiss me, kiwi boy.”
your fingers curl into his shirt to pull him closer to you. your noses bump against each other before your lips lock, but you’re so used to this that you both right yourselves immediately. hyunjin’s lips are pink and plump, so unbelievably soft under yours that you sink into his hold right away.
the kiss starts out soft, tender almost, building up to something just like your sweet romantic hoped for. a peck, another, another, countless. hyunjin goes back and forth between your bottom and top lip, pressing slow, easy kisses to each one until you’re whining for more. he smiles then, always satisfied to know he has such an effect on you. his smugness doesn’t last for long though, it hardly ever does. hyunjin is far too desperate for that as he presses against you harder and breathes you in, angles his head and opens his mouth wider so that he can begin to kiss you deeper. hyunjin is the first one to moan when his tongue laps at your lower lip, and it tapers off into somewhat of an airy grunt when your tongue meets his own.
your back arches, your tits press tight to his chest. you can feel hyunjin’s head turning ever so slightly, like he’s trying to look at the camera out of the corner of his eye. you want him focused on you though, so angles be damned, you bring your hand up under his chin to cup his jaw. your fingers squish his cheeks until his lips pout against yours. you lick deeper between his lips, lap at his pink gums and the sensitive roof of his warm mouth. your tongues tangle and curl together. it’s wet, drool beginning to seep down your chin and sticking in strings to his. your bodies are rolling against each other before you know it; your shared arousal is palpable as you grip and knead at heated skin.
“you’re perfect, you’re perfect,” hyunjin moans. his lips meet yours again, finesse waning as his desperation for you builds. the sloppy sounds of your lips smacking and tongues clashing has your cunt pulsing where it grinds against his hardening cock. “it feels like- like… those kiss me girl videos!”
he sounds crazed. hyunjin’s voice is frantic and raspy where he speaks into your slick lips.
“you know kiss me girl?” you pull away slightly so that you can ask. there’s a glint in your eye, a quirk to your lips. of course hyunjin gets off to messy kissing videos. you know that all too well.
“you know kiss me girl?!” hyunjin retorts. he doesn’t wait for your answer before his lips are on yours again. hyunjin shoves both of his hands under your loose shirt, rucking it up your bare back and scratching his nails lightly down your spine. you’re sensitive, it makes you shiver in his hold.
you tuck yourself harder against him and tilt your head sharply. the angle of your head must be a disaster for the camera, but you can’t seem to care too much when you lock your lips with his, mouths wide open and tongues lapping messily at each other. it’s humid, the air between you hot and wet with your frantic mesh of lips and tongue.
pulling away from his eager mouth is no easy feat, but it’s worth it when you turn your head toward the camera. you tuck your shoulder to your chin and look over it demurely, batting your eyelashes how you know hyunjin loves. you’re a mess, hair and face sweaty, your chin and neck soaked with spit. your lips are swollen and your eyes are hazy. hyunjin isn’t faring any better, lips swollen and slick with spit, but he’s not looking into the camera. he’s still looking directly at you, eyes shining with a mixture of awe and love and hunger. hyunjin doesn’t look into the camera until you repeat your move from earlier, cupping underneath his spit-slick chin and tugging his head in the direction of the phone. you watch him take in the sight, watch him pant heavily while his eyes roam the mirror image of the two of you.
“fuck,” you grin. hyunjin’s moan sputters from his swollen lips when you grind your hips down harshly. you’re both still watching your reflection. “fuck, you’re so hard.”
“i’m obsessed with you, of course i am,” hyunjin agrees easily. it’s not like he could lie about it anyway. his bulge is thick and impressive and twitching in the confines of his pajama pants. you feel it twitch again as he tilts his head to kiss your cheek and make his way down your neck. his lips are slick and warm and so soft on your skin, and his tongue is just as soft when it laps against your pulse point. your mouth drops open, your eyes droop. you see it all on the recording. you never knew watching yourself feel pleasure like that could feel so heady on its own. “can i taste your pussy?”
hyunjin’s warm breath on your throat makes you tremble. you’re both so eager for it that it doesn’t take long before your positions are swapped and hyunjin is between your legs. he has you on your back with your legs spread, panties dangling precariously off of curled toes. he never bothered with your shirt, but it’s rucked high enough up your chest for him to see your nipples. he couldn’t go without it.
his hands rest on your parted thighs, and his head ducks to kiss his way slowly up and down your swollen labia. you’re sensitive enough that it gets you clenching on nothing, legs spasming under hyunjin’s gentle hands.
the hot touch of his tongue doesn’t surprise you, but it makes your breath hitch right away. hyunjin presses the flat of it right against your aching clit, just rests it there until the warm wetness envelops that swollen little button entirely and you’re keening, high and pathetic. that sweet, soft, still pressure makes you want to buck your hips against his face. hyunjin beats you to it though, finally laving his tongue in a nasty, slow circle that makes you shake.
“o-oh, oh, please. oh my god…” you breathe.
he eats you like that for so long that you can’t lay still, body writhing and twitching in pure pleasure that hyunjin so willingly gives. his tongue licks sloppy circles around your clit. it dips lower occasionally to slither inside of your needy hole but always returns to pay close attention to your clit.
you bat your heel against his shoulder in annoyance when he pulls away. you were close, getting there at least, that addictive, swirling heat building deep in your belly before hyunjin made it simmer.
he only laughs through his nose though, something airy and light while he focuses his attention on your aching cunt. hyunjin brings both hands to your core to feel, slipping his hands down your thighs until both thumbs touch you where you’re wet. he hums then, sticks his tongue out once more to lap up your slit and pulls away again. his thumbs spread you first, then his other digits come to play, spreading your inner lips and nudging gently at the hood of your clit to expose you to him completely. the first touch of his tongue makes you jolt, it’s electric. the pressure of his tongue feels so concentrated like this, and you reach for his head for something to hold onto.
a whine works its way from your throat when you remember you don’t have anything to grab like you used to, so you settle for shakily rubbing your hand back and forth through hyunjin’s buzzcut while he licks sloppy circles around your exposed clit.
you’re trembling like a leaf. it’s so much, and you nearly kick the two of you off of his bed when hyunjin purses his lips around you and begins to suck. the feeling ricochets like a pinball straight through your body, pinging against your bones and rattling your brain until you’re nearly sobbing with it.
“fu-uuuck,” you warble. it’s pitiful, high-pitched and desperate. hyunjin just moans in response and keeps sucking, batting his tongue against the live wire that seems to be your clit.
the heat in your belly rises, coils around and around and around itself. hyunjin’s mouth feels so good, he knows your body so well. the sloppy kisses he presses to your clit feels just as good as when he laves his tongue around it or sucks it messily into his mouth like he’s doing now. sucking, sucking sucking, pulsing little rhythms that get your legs tightening around his head. hyunjin drops his jaw and licks against you in quick bursts. his forehead bunches, his eyes scrunch, his jaw trembles the way it does when he eats something else that’s yummy. he’s so handsome. he’s so cute, so dedicated to your pleasure, and god, you’re close. hyunjin is licking right where you need it, right there- right there, you’re so close. you want to cum; it’s right there, it’s there, oh, hyunjinnie, please—
your body locks into place when you cum; the only thing that isn’t completely still is the frantic trembling of your hips underneath the expert ministrations of hyunjin’s mouth. he licks you through your orgasm, eases his fingers away and lowers the hood of your clit back because he knows you’re too sensitive for that now. his tongue is soothing, warm and soft and slow.
the short strands of hyunjin’s blonde hair feel good under your palm. it’s cathartic almost, you could play with his hair for hours, you think, even though there’s not much of it.
“fuzzy,” you hum, but only once you’ve come back to yourself.
“wet,” hyunjin shoots back. and he’s right, you’re absolutely soaked. your own wetness combined with hyunjin’s spit seeps down your sensitive cunt, down to your asshole and the rumpled sheets beneath you.
“prickly,” you respond, and hyunjin guffaws between your legs.
“i’m not a cactus!” he must not be too affronted though because he opens his mouth again to lap at your still throbbing clit. “be quiet, i have to make you cum again before i do in my pants…”
you stretch, arms lifting above your head and neck craning. a stiff glance to the side reminds you of hyunjin’s phone perched on his nightstand, of the nearly twenty minute video that’s still being recorded. it’s easy to settle back down on the pillow, and there’s a smile tugging at your lips when you tug at one of hyunjin’s ears.
“oh no, because that would be sooo bad. whatever will i do?”
Hi ^^ I know you don't do requests but idk if this qualifies as one, so feel free not to answer this if you don't want to BUT:
Since you put so much thought into analyzing ATEEZ when you write your fics, would you mind giving a brief rundown of where you think they fall on the dom/switch/sub spectrum?
omg great question and i do not mind at all!! thank you for asking~
thoughts on this can be found under the cut, but a little disclaimer at the top — i am only providing my headcanons, that doesn’t mean i’m right or that your interpretation of one of the members as something else is incorrect. i would say this mostly informs how i think they probably are and how i write their characters in my fic, but it definitely is just me playing around in the imagination sandbox please don’t take offense!
also when we talk dorm/sub/switch, i want to be clear that as someone familiar with actual bdsm dynamics, these terms are thrown around pretty liberally and far too often. by that i mean, someone who’s a little bossy during sex doesn’t automatically equal a ‘dom’ in the proper sense and may not be comfortable with that term. however, for the fun purposes of my fic and this ask, we’re going to explore theses terms with the idea that the members could have the potential for it, not necessarily that this is what they are actively doing / engaging in.
alright…… hard thoughts below for each member including headcanon, kink list, and what pet names you call him/he calls you. i’ll happily dive into more into any of the thoughts below, feel free to send me an ask.
one last note - i use the terms man, woman, fem presenting, masc presenting, etc. but i want to be clear i try to be very trans inclusive and queer inclusive in general. while i write the boys always in a relationship with a fem presenting reader because i am a cis woman, that does not mean i am saying they as individuals are heterosexual and only attracted to cis women. i have no idea, this is fiction, and i’d never presume their actual real life sexuality so strongly. however, i am more comfortable writing from my perspective, so if you see that in my work or in my headcanons below please understand it’s not to be exclusionary i’m probably just navel gazing a bit too much. in the pet names section i do stick to things like ‘good girl’ etc. that may imply sexuality but that’s mostly as a representation of my own writing canon.
hongjoong - switch, leaning dominant;
hongjoong to me is such a switch, but i think he takes naturally towards the dominant role. i think a lot of people mistake his demon line stage presence for like…. crazy hard dom though and i could not disagree more. i think he’s actually more the type to switch up based on his partner’s needs and wants, but most often and most comfortably fills a dom role. however, in this dom role i see him far more as a service dom or soft dom, i don’t think with what we know about hongjoong as a person and how he interacts with the world around him he would be much of a hard dom that actually wanted to inflict hard rules or even dip into sadism. the most i could see is when his partner is being bratty or when he’s playfully jealous he would spank a bit or use teasing words to get his partner to say something in response. i think all in all, he’s the type to want to make his partner feel good, but he enjoys being in control and would want to give his partner instructions as a natural leader in that way. he could give up control to the right person, but i just think that’s a little less natural for him.
kinks -> brat taming, praise and degradation used interchangeably, overstimulation, voyeurism, voice kink, guided masturbation, toys toys toys, exhibitionism (he’s putting the lush in you at dinner that’s all i’m saying)
call him -> baby, joong, sir (playfully, less strict), daddy (to tease him he’ll tell you to stop but you can see he kind of likes it)
calls you -> darling, baby, honey, love, gorgeous
seonghwa - switch, gender dependent;
seonghwa is so interesting to me because i feel like his potential suits the whole spectrum. i have written him many different ways and see him many different ways, and so often it feels right, he’s a true chameleon. that’s why i think he is a switch, but i’m saying gender dependent because i think he likely takes more naturally to one direction depending on the gender presentation of the partner he is with. no hard and fast rules here, obviously everyone is unique, but as a general rule i’d say that with women/fem presenting people he skews more dominant, and with men/masc presenting people he skews more submissive. that being said, exceptions exist and i could see him going either way on that sliding scale dependent on partner. i would say for submisssive he would be the type to service, begging to pleasure his partner and enjoying the total submission of that headspace, potentially even enjoying some elements of restraint or pain on himself. for his dominant side, i think out of anyone in ateez he has the true potential for hard dom sadist, though that would require a partner to match him in intensity. i think he would excel in role playing and slipping into a true dominant persona, controlling his submissive entirely (within the bedroom and perhaps a little outside it), and would be able to manage the intense dynamics of sadomasochism well from delivering pain to exploring limits to very tender aftercare.
call him -> baby, hwa, love, sir or master (for hard scenes), daddy/mommy (roleplay scenes specifically)
calls you -> jagiya, darling, love, angel, sweet girl, good girl, my baby, my babygirl, pretty thing, pet (for hard scenes), mommy (when he’s subbing or when he’s playing into breeding kink as a dom)
yunho - dominant, soft dom with hard dom potential;
first of all, this man is my ult bias and i could write a novel about this, i’m trying to restrain myself. if anyone wants unfettered yunho thoughts lmk…… but truly, and i will die on this hill, while the sub yunho agenda is cute i just do not buy it. this man is 100% dominant, it’s just a question of where he falls on that dominance scale. i think there’s a lot of evidence for this that i can get into in a separate post, but my headcanon is that he’s a classic soft dom at least as a baseline. he’s the kind of dom who considers himself a guiding hand to his submissive. he’s caring, thoughtful, always anticipating needs and clearing the path for his submissive, and in bed that means he’s providing all of the opportunities for his submissive to explore within the safe bounds of his control. however, with the right person i think he has the real potential to reach hard dom levels where he is experimenting with degradation, some amount of pain play (though i do think full sadism is a bit far for him), bondage and control, and playing with pleasure from a denial and overstim angle. he’s also very clearly traditional in many aspects, and while i am not sitting here saying that means he’s sexist (absolutely not) i do think that means he would be turned on by more traditional elements. i.e. his partner in skirts, heels, lingerie, etc. i think with the right partner that also opens up his ability to play with different kinks and dynamics that might fall into that like free use, breeding, etc.
kinks -> rigging/shibari, edging/orgasm denial, pleasure/overstimulation, praise, degradation, breeding and pregnancy, impact play (spanking), restraints (mostly body weight or ropes), free use, fingering (his hands are we fr), if giving head is a kink then consider him a wet pussy enjoyer this man has an oral fixation watch his tongue, omorashi, corruption, breath play, somno, cockwarming, size kink/size training, throat fucking
calls you -> baby, sweetheart, babygirl, good girl, pretty/pretty girl, pup/puppy (this is self indulgent don’t look at me), all variations with ‘my’ i.e. my pretty girl
yeosang - dominant, pleasure dom/service dom;
yeosang to me is such a sleeper dom. i think he’s hard to read in general, but after years of paying attention to him as i tried to write him, to me he really reads as more of a dominant in a sexual relationship, but definitely from the pleasure/service side of things. i don’t know that he would want to really control aspect’s of his submissive’s life outside the bedroom or perceive himself necessarily to be some kind of guiding figure or punishing figure, but i do think he would relish in giving his submissive pleasure and relief. i think yeosang would want to be the type of partner his submissive could just collapse into at the end of the day and receive whatever kind of care they need. he’s quietly making tea, he’s reminding you to drink your water, he’s easing you into bed with a massage and letting you forget the day as he takes care of you completely. i think in some extremes that leads to him not even really thinking about his own pleasure, he seeks to service his partner and that alone makes him happy. i can see him being the kind of dom who teases a little, but from a kind angle, and just knowing how soft and innocent ateez members perceive him to be, i don’t think there would be much room for meanness or pain with him.
kinks -> edging (cutely), overstimulation / pleasure play, lots of toys with him, guided masturbation / instructions, voyeurism, lingerie, heels, nylons, cockwarming, nipple play, body worship, oral (giving)
call him -> baby, yeosangie/sangie, yeo, sir (when he’s guiding)
calls you -> baby, sweetheart, my love, my girl, honey
san - dominant, soft dom, pleasure lean;
this man is a giver. i cannot express this enough, which is why i added the pleasure lean. i actually think he’s quite similar to yunho in the sense that he’s rather traditional, and within the bounds of at least a het relationship, would take his position as the man of the relationship very seriously. yunho and san both are the types of guys who would spoil their partner, and like being the caretaker, however i think in san’s case he would enjoy the pleasure angle far more than anything else and would not be comfortable with engaging in harder aspects of play with his partner. i truly think if you watch the way he caretakes it’s much softer, and if you listen to the way he speaks about women it’s far more from the angle of protector. my gut says you’d have to convince this man to spank you, so just naturally he falls into the soft dom role of guiding hand plus pleasure dom where he’s focused heavily on delivering pleasure and guiding his submissive through that pleasurable experience. i think he’s the type to set up a really romantic scene - rose petals on the bed, warm bath, champagne, etc. and just worship his partner for hours on end. he of course is going to fuck his partner eventually, but good god does he want to just spend so long touching and massaging and getting every little ounce of pleasure out of them first.
kinks -> body worship, oil/wax, pleasure/overstimulation, breeding, praise, anal, if fingering is a kink he’s got it he wants to see you squirt, cuckholding, voyerism, exhibitionism (light, the thought someone might hear not see necessarily)
call him -> sannie, san, baby, daddy (when the time is right)
calls you -> jagi/jagiya, yeobo (when married), honey, love, darling, sweetheart, my babygirl (casually, cutely), my girl, my wife, etc.
mingi - switch, gender dependent with a sub lean;
mingi… mingi… mingi. this man is such a mystery and yet wears his heart on his sleeve. similar to seonghwa i say he’s a switch but it kind of depends on the gender presentation of his partner. i think you can see this in the ways mingi interacts with the world. with women in general i see him turn on the swagger, and lean at least on the surface a bit more dominant, i could see him slotting into the role of taking the lead quite easily. with men, particularly with yunho though, you can see that he gets much softer, whinier, giggly, and truly has the potential to be submissive. my real guess is that he is a submissive leaning person regardless of gender, but it comes more naturally to him with a man (especially one as obviously dominant as yunho), that being said, with the right female/fem presenting partner, i think he could easily be submissive there too if that partner was properly leading the situation. i could see him being the begging type, pleading with his dominant to service them, and happy to really let himself sink into that headspace. but if he’s with a partner that needs him to step up and take the lead, i think he’d happily do that too which is why i think he’s very switchy.
kinks -> body worship, impact play (spanking specifically), throat fucking (giving and receiving), sensory deprivation, anal, oral (ride his face), lactation, humiliation
call him -> baby, babe, sweet boy, good boy, baby boy, and any variation with “my”, plus we all know princess is in there.
calls you -> babe, cutie, sweetheart (rare, if he’s feeling mega tender), goddess (when subbing), mommy (when super subbing)
wooyoung - true switch;
this man is the switchiest switch i’ve ever seen and i cannot accept anything less. he’s such a brat, but i want to emphasize that i think that means he could be bratty from either the dom or sub position and it’s entirely dependent on his partner. i think wooyoung is the type that bends himself for someone else to be accommodating, and honestly i see a lot of myself in him and vice versa, and we have very similar star charts so stay with me here. i don’t mean that in a negative way of course, but what i think wooyoung excels at is reading people and adjusting to their needs, so i think this would translate into the bedroom too. i think he’s the type to step up and lead if needed but the minute his partner takes a firmer hand he’s letting that shit roll and seeing where it goes. it makes him exceptionally fun to write tbh. i think wooyoung when being more dominant would be the teasing type, making playful fun of his partner while he delivers pleasure, almost goading them into coming. and i think when being submissive he rolls right into whining - the type to beg to come but listen attentively if their partner wanted to edge him. i think would be the perfect match for another switch because they could constantly be dynamic shifting and changing together and really explore so many aspects of themselves that way.
kinks -> oral (giving and receiving and make it messy), impact play (he’ll deliver a little spank but he’ll cum if you slap his cheek), visible cum (i.e. cumming on his partner / marking his partner), marking/claiming bruises and bites, cuckholding, pet play
call him -> baby, babe, wooyoung (but whiny lmao), honey, my boyfriend/fiance/husband (he likes the titles)
calls you -> babe (whiny af), baby, my love (when he’s feeling emo), pretty girl, babygirl, darling (when he’s teasing you), my girl (all the time he’s obsessed)
jongho - dominant, soft dom with hard dom potential;
in the same way that yunho and san read traditional to me, so does jongho. again, not in a problematic way, but in the way that he takes a dominant position in the relationship and seeks a partner who wants that kind of care. while i think all three of them would want a parter who is very dominant/in control in aspects of their career etc., i think being that person’s safe space to give up control is something they all want. so in that way, jongho reads truly dominant to me and is one of the only members of ateez to give the potential for hard dom, again, depending on his partner’s needs. i think he also acts as the guiding hand, he’s traditional in that he likes to pay for things etc., and would ultimately engage in softer aspects of control in the bedroom. however, if his partner really responded well to things like punishment and stricter guidelines, i think he would excel as a hard dom. i can really see him having a partner crawl to him, be waiting submissively on their knees for him, allow him to use them / benefit from actual punishment like counting spanks etc. and so generally i think while he may not need this kind of a relationship, if his partner did he would rise really well to that occasion because it comes more naturally.
kinks -> lingerie, nylons, impact play, breath play, free use, creampies, visible cum (marking with his cum), restraints (silks, cuffs, body weight), sensory deprivation, edging/overstim
call him -> babe, jjong, yeobo (if married), sir (for hard dom play)
calls you -> darling, babygirl, pretty, sweetheart, my love, yeobo, precious girl (during play)
you know i was wondering... when you have something in the pipeline about yunwoosan's oneshot, could you give us a spoiler? it doesn't have to be much just enough... please ⟵(๑¯◡¯๑)
pls accept these ~500 words of smut as a lil preview, i hope you like them ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ it dives right into the middle of the filth lol
preview warnings: dom Yunho & San, sub Wooyoung & reader, mxm Woosan (w/ anal fingering), voyeuristic reader, hand-on-throat, choking, spanking, degradation (reader is called a pervert & a cockslut), reader uses she/her pronouns, possessive Yunho, i get so dizzy writing him for this one yall
Your head spins as you gasp for air — and though you and Yunho have stopped moving, the bed still creaks underneath you, with familiar whiny moans filling the bedroom. You don’t even think about it, can’t think, when you peek back over your shoulder.
Vision blurred from unshed tears, you just barely make out the forms of San and Wooyoung. San is hunched over the smaller man, grunting as he finger-fucks him hard, his free hand pinning Wooyoung’s thigh to hold him down as Wooyoung jerks and cries out at the punishing pace.
He’s completely lost in the throes of pleasure, head thrown back and spine arching, his unpinned leg kicking out and spasming. His cock is hard and leaking on his stomach, his hand harshly smacked away when he reaches down for relief. San revels in his whines with a toothy grin… a grin that widens when he glances over and sees you looking at him.
“Oh baby, no.”
Your memory jolts back to life with a shock, eyes widening as you remember Yunho’s one rule, but it’s too late.
A hand closes around your throat and you gasp as Yunho forces you to look at him. You whimper, fully expecting to see fury in his eyes — and are thrown completely off balance when Yunho is pouting cutely instead, an unnerving contrast to his rough hold on you.
“And you were doing so well,” he sighs. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you? What a little pervert you are, you really love watching them that much. What about me, hm?”
“I-I—” You stammer, blood rushing down your core you as his thumb slowly presses down on the side of your neck. “Yunho, ‘m so—”
Your breath goes wheezy at the pressure, all while Yunho stares you down with those big, beautiful eyes. His pout fades away, leaving nothing but cool disappointment. “I get jealous, you know,” he murmurs, leaning in to nose at your cheek, lips brushing against your jaw. “Don’t wanna share just yet. What’s a guy gotta do to keep your attention?”
You suck in a tight breath when Yunho smacks his other hand against your ass, and then again, warming the skin. You whine at every impact, reflexively arching into it. Needing more.
“Ah, so that gets your attention,” Yunho says, his eyebrows raising with interest. “You know what I think?” His fingers tighten around your neck ever so slightly. You feel dizzy, drowning in heat. “I think Sannie has been too soft on you. A spoiled little cockslut like you gets to do whatever she wants around him, don’t you?”
You weakly shake your head ‘no’; a bald-faced lie. San is soft like whipped cream when it comes to you.
Predictably, Yunho doesn’t buy it for a second. His palm connects with your ass again, a little harder this time. “No? You really expect me to believe that?” Yunho scoffs. “I bet all it takes is one needy look from those pretty eyes and he’s right down on his knees for you.”
The sky is already darkening by the time San gets back to the apartment building after his late afternoon gym visit, and a crisp smell hangs in the air from an autumn shower that recently passed by. It’s invigorating, keeping San bright and alert despite the satisfying ache in his body from his post-workout exhaustion.
He picks up the mail on his way back; including yours, of course. His key chain has been a little heavier for some time now, but he likes the weight and jingle of it in his hand.
San sifts through the mail as he waits for the elevator to come down. It takes a bit longer than usual, but finally the door opens with its familiar ‘ding’ — revealing one of San’s neighbours inside.
Mrs Yoon.
“Oh! Hi, Mrs Yoon,” San says awkwardly, standing aside to let her through. He tries not to think about the last time he talked to the old lady, which only makes him think about it harder, an embarrassed heat burning under his skin.
Mrs Yoon gives him a crinkled smile as she steps out the elevator. “Hello, young man,” she politely greets him back, but there is a cheeky glint in her eyes.
San’s skin burns hotter, and can’t decide if it’s a mercy or a torment that she doesn’t acknowledge their previous conversation, leaving it all unspoken between them. Instead she simply wishes San a pleasant evening and starts to walk past him, going about her business without embarrassing him any further.
She probably intends for it to be a mercy — but something nags at San as Mrs Yoon leaves, and he realises he can’t let her go just yet.
“Ah, Mrs Yoon, could you wait a moment? Please?” he asks. “There is something I’d like to talk about.”
She stops her little shuffle towards the exit, blinking at San in surprise. “Of course, dear. What’s on your mind?”
What’s on his mind? You. You are.
Specifically, the jaded resignation on your face when you’d brushed off San’s concern about Mrs Yoon’s boyfriend-comment; when you told him you’re used to it.
He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that you need apathy to shield yourself from a world that’s oblivious to your lived experience at best, and at worst believes it’s something to be fixed. San isn’t naive; he knows he can’t take away society’s constant pressure for romantic attachment by himself. But there is something he can do right here and now.
Maybe today, he can be your shield instead.
“Um, Mrs Yoon, when we ran across you the other day… I just wanted to say, she’s not my girlfriend,” San says with calm warmth, a friendly smile on his face. Making it clear as politely as possible that he’s not starting a discussion, just stating a fact.
Mrs Yoon blinks at him in confusion, but then she breaks out in a smile of her own, filled with misplaced understanding.
“Ahhh, I see! And the other young man, he is not your boyfriend then, hm?” she grins slyly, like she’s in on some covert plot of secrecy. “I got it, your secret is safe with me. Though if I can give a piece of advice; a little more discretion wouldn’t hurt if you want to keep it a secret for much longer! If an old biddy like me has figured it out, then I can’t be the only one.”
San sighs a weary chuckle at the further misunderstanding. “No, no there’s no secrets. Wooyoung is my boyfriend,” he says, and Mrs Yoon’s confusion comes back tenfold. “But it’s different with her. We’re… We are friends. Really close friends. She’s very important to me.”
Something softens in Mrs Yoon’s face at San’s simple earnestness. She scratches her chin as she mulls it over, but eventually comes to a decision with a firm nod. “Hmm, well. Nothing wrong with that either, I suppose. Just as long as you three treat each other right.”
The safe politeness in San’s smile melts away, making way for honest happiness. “We do, Mrs. Yoon. Always.”
Grinning, she reaches up to suddenly pinch his cheek. San lets out a tiny ack, more out of surprise than pain, though her grip is surprisingly strong. “Now that I know,” she winks cheekily, then releases him. “Have a nice evening together, young man. She’s very lucky to have a good friend like you.”
Ah, and there Mrs Yoon gets it wrong again. “No, I’m the lucky one here, I reckon,” San grins. She shakes her head with a little reedy laugh, like his answer is exactly what she expected from him.
With that, San parts ways with Mrs Yoon and takes the elevator to the top floor. To you and Wooyoung.
San finds his and Wooyoung’s apartment empty when he drops off his bag — though honestly, he’s stopped thinking of the two spaces as ‘yours’ and ‘theirs’. So he gives Byeol a sweet little kiss on the top of her sweet little head, then goes over next-door without too much thought. Some days San enjoys a bit of alone time, but this is not one of them.
No, San can’t wait to curl up on the couch against one or two of his favourite people, maybe order in some food today so the time can be spent just lazing around in each others’ company.
When he opens the door to your apartment (strictly legally speaking), San hears an animated conversation happening. He perks up in curiosity, heading in closer to make out the words of what seems to be a lively discussion.
He finds you and Wooyoung on the couch, scrolling through something on your phone.
“Oohh, this looks pretty! And affordable too,” you say, looking to Wooyoung for his agreement — until you spot San and give him a little wave. “Hey, welcome back! Had a good workout?”
“Yeah, real good,” San says, a fond smile crinkling his eyes. Sounds like you and Wooyoung are looking at apartment listings again; something that started out as just fun and casual, building little fantasies around the possibilities, but the search is slowly growing more intentional.
But Wooyoung makes a face at your phone screen, shaking his head. “Too small,” he says decisively. “Ah, San! San! Good, you’re here, you can settle this for us!”
“Sure, lay it on me,” San says, naively assuming it’s about one of the listings. Then again, the way you immediately roll your eyes in exasperation…
“Seriously, Woo? You’re still on that?”
Wooyoung ignores you, turning to San with grim determination. “San. Tell her that if I don’t get to fuck other people, then she doesn’t get to either! A closed relationship, that’s what we agreed on.”
“That’s what you agreed on. You and San. I never agreed to any such thing.”
San blinks in baffled confusion. What? “Wait, you want to sleep with others? You barely have the stamina to keep up with us,” he blurts out, unable to fully process the idea that you’d want to open the relationship up.
“Hey,” you pout.
“What, ‘hey’?” he chuckles. “You’re the one who blamed us for that UTI because we are, and I quote, ‘horny demons who thrive on obliterating your poor bladder’s bacterial ecosystem’. Seriously, since when are you looking for more?”
“I’m not! Woo is just making drama over nothing!” you sigh, shooting Wooyoung some heavy side-eye. “I only pointed out that because we kinda winged this whole throuple situation, that technically we never made any rules about me and any hypothetical interest I might have.” Your side-eye deepens at the last part.
“Right,” Wooyoung says, returning your side-eye in equal force. “Hypothetical. Because you totally didn’t bring that up out of nowhere after sniffing around for gossip on San and Yunho’s past… activities.”
Yunho?! Since when is he on your radar?
It throws you too; your side-eye breaks as you look at Wooyoung in surprise. “That’s what this is about? Because I asked about him?” You let out a small, endeared giggle at Wooyoung’s jealous streak. “Woo, I’m just curious about the guy, is all! I finally get to meet him in person next week, I’ve only heard him on voice chat when you guys play that Mile of Mythologies thing together.”
“League of Legends!” San and Wooyoung protest simultaneously like clock-work.
“Yeah yeah,” you grin. “So, can we stop throwing a fuss over nothing or picking on me for having a delicate bladder?”
“Hey, I’m not picking on you for that. Honestly, all things considered it’s kind of a miracle you only got a UTI once. You got a toughie in there!” Wooyoung points out, grinning as he pats your lower stomach.
“Thank you! Now let’s go back to the important things in life, shall we?” You raise up your phone back up to go look at apartment listings again. Or so San thinks, at least.
(Somewhere in the back of his head, San vaguely notes that technically, you still haven’t agreed on a damn thing about the sleeping-with-other-people thing. Not that Wooyoung’s objections were needed; you don’t seem to actually have any serious considerations about Yunho, or anyone else. Well, and even if you did…
San smiles absent-mindedly. It’s not like he has bad memories of those past ‘activities’ with Yunho. The direct opposite, in fact. The idea of teaming up on you or Wooyoung… Wait, what? Hold on, where did that thought come from?)
“You really don’t like this one, Woo?” you ask Wooyoung, tilting the screen to him, completely unaware of the newly sparked scenarios inside San’s head.
“I told you, it’s too small!”
San shakes off whatever the hell is going on with his imagination, and focuses on his curiosity about this apartment. It must be real nice if you’re so set on the place, even if Wooyoung disagrees.
“This is too small?? Damn Woo, never knew you’re that much of a size queen.”
San frowns. Size queen? Again; what?
“Hey, who can blame me? I’ve gotten used to a certain… stretch,” Wooyoung says, a bold grin spreading over his face.
A stretch??? …Okay, maybe San needs to re-examine his assumptions about what you and Wooyoung are looking at.
“God you’re nasty,” you sigh in exasperation, but there’s a laugh hidden in there too. “Fine, fine, let’s see what else they got.”
San has finally reached you, standing behind the couch to look over your shoulder at the screen. His eyes widen as the veil of confusion lifts away, a surprised flush hitting his cheeks.
No, those are not apartment listings on your screen.
Those are sex toys.
Specifically, you and Wooyoung are looking at strap-ons.
“How about this kit?” Wooyoung asks, gesturing at the next one you scrolled to. “That looks promising.”
At first, your face lights up with interest, but it is quickly replaced by a grimace when you notice the cost. “Looks good but… might be a tiny bit out of my price range.”
“Our price range,” Wooyoung counters firmly. “Think of it as an investment for the future! What do you think, Sannie?”
“Um,” is the most eloquence response San can muster at this moment.
“Look look, it even comes with a few different dildos, see! And the harness is backless too,” Wooyoung says, eyebrows wiggling as he zooms in on one of the images.
The picture shows the back-view of a model wearing the harness, held into place by a supple-looking leather waistband and two elegant black straps wrapped around the upper thighs, snugly fitted just below the model’s completely exposed ass.
“…How’s the size? Is it adjustable?” you ask, not entirely convinced yet but slowly swayed by Wooyoung’s sales pitch.
San feels a heat crawl up to his face, and tugs at the neckline of his shirt as unbidden images float up in his mind of your ass in that harness. No, San definitely needs no further swaying. Fuck, his imagination sure is working overtime today. He’ll pay the whole damn thing out of his own pocket if the money is really a concern to you.
You nose through the product specifications, your face brightening at what you find. After that, it’s not long before the kit finds itself dropped into your shopping cart.
“Three days?” Wooyoung groans when he sees the shipping date, falling back into the couch miserably. “How am I supposed to wait that long?”
“Aw, you poor thing,” you coo teasingly, patting Wooyoung’s hair. “What a trial. What a tribulation.”
San grins when Wooyoung scoffs and grabs for your hand to get a bite in on your forearm. You yelp, unsuccessfully trying to fend him off. San lets the chaos entertain him for a moment, then he gently untangles you both. “Woo, I’m sure we can find a way to make the time go by faster,” he chuckles. “Like… how about you take a few days to think about what you’d like to happen once it’s here?”
Like magic, Wooyoung’s face instantly shifts to a thoughtful expression. “Well,” he says, tapping his bottom lip, “I do have a few ideas…”
Never one to be timid about his ideas, you naturally know the deepest, most intimate and depraved depths of Wooyoung’s fantasies by the time you have him on your knees in front of you.
You don’t need to see the hunger in his eyes as he stares up at you to know badly he wants this; don’t need to hear the breathless inhale when your fingers tangle into his hair, how his tongue eagerly darts out to wet his lips when you tug him forward — pushing the tip of your strap right against those plump lips.
Because you already know that is exactly what Wooyoung wants. To take your cock down his throat and choke on it.
The weight of the black, silicone dildo hanging between your legs is unfamiliar, a little awkward even, but the harness is more comfortable than you expected.
You’d stayed a bit concerned about the fit until the discreetly packaged arrived, but after fiddling with some adjustments you could breathe easily. The leather now sits perfectly around your waist, and the black straps don’t dig painfully into your thighs like you’d feared, instead framing your ass in a way that must be extremely flattering to say the least — if the way San’s eyes keep trailing back to them is anything to go by.
However, for now San’s gaze is fixed on Wooyoung.
San sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread lazily and leaned back with his hands resting on the mattress, making no effort to touch Wooyoung even though he is within arm’s reach. Head slightly tilted, he watches intently how Wooyoung’s lips part as the silicone cock is pushed past them.
Wooyoung wastes no time, sinking down with a muffled groan. Messily he sucks and laps at the strap, low moans and wet noises drifting upward. You let out a blissful sigh at the view, his pretty lips stretched around your cock. He blinks up at you as he somehow manages to grin even with his mouth stuffed, his dark eyes shiny with impatience and need.
“Little more, Woo. I know you can give me more,” you hum, running your hand through his hair. “Show me how hungry you are for my cock before I fuck you with it.”
“Mmh—”
Wooyoung eagerly follows your lead when you guide his head up and down, taking you deeper and deeper with minimal encouragement. He never holds back, treating your strap like it’s a real cock; and through his pure unbridled enthusiasm, you sink away into the illusion.
Your breaths grow heavier whenever Wooyoung pulls back to suckle indulgently at the tip, thick wet swipes of his tongue as he groans, his eyes fluttering shut every time you pull his hair to force your length down his throat again. Every pass of his mouth rubs the silicone dick’s rounded base against your cunt, and its strategically placed protrusion sends sparks through your core.
You start to roll your hips into him, chasing those sparks as Wooyoung’s head bobs to meet your shallow thrusts. It’s not long before he gags around you with an obscene gurgle, a thin trail of drool escaping past the corner of his lips. Instinctively you freeze, but Wooyoung shakes his head and whines. His cheeks are flushed, a watery gleam brimming in his eyes as he stares up at you, wordlessly begging you to keep fucking his throat.
“Aw, he’s tearing up already,” San chuckles, leaning forward so he can grasp Wooyoung’s chin. “Looks so pretty with cock between his lips, doesn’t he? That smart mouth stuffed full, working so hard to please you.”
Wooyoung lets out another whine at San’s praise, only more worked up by the edge of condescension in his voice.
“Sweet babygirl,” you grin fondly. “Come, make Sannie feel good too. Can you do that for me?”
Wooyoung makes a noise, immediately reaching for San, who guides Wooyoung’s hand to wrap around his cock. He groans lowly, his back arching ever so slightly at Wooyoung’s practised strokes.
“Good boy,” San sighs, a lazy smile on his lips. “Now, get back to sucking that cock properly, hm? Wanna see you choke on it.”
Wooyoung moans loudly, more drool spilling down his chin. He keens when you pull his hair a little harder; it’s all the reminder he needs to go back to gagging around your cock, meeting the roll of your hips as you fuck his face. He breaths harshly through his nose, struggling to control his breathing but never slowing down, taking your strap down his throat like a champ without ever neglecting San.
San’s chest is starting to heave as Wooyoung jerks him off, lips parted and eyes heavy-lidded. His low whine sears through you, as does the sight of his large hand leading Wooyoung’s to pump his leaking cock. Wooyoung revels in how he’s being used, teary eyes drifting shut as he fades away into a cockdrunk haze.
“San?” you say in a strained voice, more affected by the strap’s base gentle rubbing against your clit than you expected. (Or maybe the growing pressure in your core has more to do with Wooyoung, with seeing him like this.) “I think it’s time.”
Wooyoung’s eyes peek open at the sound of your voice, shimmering wetly with unshed tears. (…Yep, that definitely helps.)
“Yeah, it’s time,” San agrees, his voice equally strained.
He guides Wooyoung’s hand down to the base of his cock, to give it a squeeze just to take the edge off. Then he moves to kneel behind Wooyoung, who almost sobs in anticipation when San grabs two handfuls of his plump ass, spreading the cheeks apart.
Wooyoung whimpers around your cock, his hands grasping at your thighs for something to anchor him while San removes a modestly-sized plug that was warming Wooyoung up for this moment. You pat his hair reassuringly, cooing soft praises at Wooyoung, who groans as San’s lubed up fingers breach his rim to loosen him up a little further. San presses a soft, lingering kiss on Wooyoung’s shoulder and moves his fingers just as gently, gradually picking up speed.
You know San is not avoiding Wooyoung’s prostate when he jerks violently, the strap slipping out of his mouth, no longer muffling his loud whines. “F-fuck, right there, r-right there, Sannie…” he moans weakly, rocking back into San’s fingers.
Clumsily, Wooyoung grabs at the strap to try and stuff it back into his mouth. The tip catches against his cheek first, smearing a thick streak of saliva across his face. You sigh contently when Wooyoung keeps his hand around the silicone cock, rubbing the pleasing protrusion at the base firmly against your cunt as he wraps his swollen lips around its length.
“Still kinda tight… Relax, babe,” San grunts, curling his fingers in a way that has Wooyoung let out a throttled mewl. He runs his free hand soothingly over Wooyoung’s back. “Ahh, no wonder you’re tense,” he purrs. “Gonna be your first time getting fucked by two cocks like this, isn’t it? You’re such a greedy, perfect cockslut that it’s easy to forget you never took more than one at once. Just doesn’t seem right… those pretty holes were made to be used and ruined by some good dick.”
Tears escape Wooyoung’s lashes as he gurgles around your strap, his motions getting shakier with every filthy word from San, trembling harder with every thrust of San’s fingers. His own cock looks achingly hard, flushed a deep red and twitching, precum beading at the tip.
“Careful, Woo,” you gently chide him. “You’re not allowed to cum until I’m fucking you properly.”
Wooyoung whimpers, trimmed nails digging into your thigh as he desperately holds back from reaching down to bring himself relief.
A dangerous grin flashes across San’s lips as he also realises just how close Wooyoung is. “Oh? The cockslut can’t even wait until he’s stuffed full the way he should be? Are you gonna fall apart on just my fingers?”
“Mhh hm—”
Wooyoung can’t get his muffled noises of denial past his obstructed throat. He tries his best to obey your instruction, but San does nothing to make it easier on him.
Instead San’s wrist snaps harshly, the squelch of lube obscenely loud. His eyes are sharp and filled with dark intent, watching how Wooyoung shudders and whines, pushed closer and closer to his limit—
You can see the exact moment Wooyoung realises his efforts to hold back are futile, his eyes going wide a split second before he convulses, inadvertently pushing the strap down the back of his throat again. San’s free hand is on Wooyoung’s cock in a heartbeat, making sure he spills messy splatters of cum on San’s fingers and his own chest.
Wooyoung pants for air, spluttering and coughing when you pull the strap from his mouth. “S-sorry, I didn’t— didn’t mean to—” He babbles a rushed apology, staring up at you with wet eyes, his face red and puffy.
“Shh, it’s alright,” you hush him, going down on your knees so you can cradle his face, brushing your thumbs over tear-streaked cheeks. “Tried so hard, didn’t you?”
“Hm-hm,” he whines in agreement.
“Our pretty babygirl just gets overwhelmed so fast, doesn’t he?” you hum, pressing small pecks on his cock-swollen lips. “So sensitive that a few fingers is all it takes.”
Wooyoung sniffs, nodding weakly. “Y-yeah.”
“Look at that, made a mess all over yourself,” you tease, catching some of the white essence dribbling down Wooyoung’s chest. “Not your fault it’s so easy to wreck you. That’s just who you are, isn’t it? A needy, desperate thing.”
He whines an unintelligible noise. For anyone else, your words might have been humiliating; but for Wooyoung, they set something inside him free. Not his fault; just his nature.
San slowly kisses up Wooyoung’s neck, rubbing his shaky arms. It’d almost be sweet, if not for the satisfied curve of San’s lips. He’s gotten Wooyoung exactly where he wants him. “It’s okay, Woo,” he says, playfully nipping at his earlobe. “You can make it up later.”
Wooyoung’s attempt at answering is smothered by San’s mouth with a sudden, hard kiss. Your breath catches at his intensity, fervid and hungry. Just the sight of San and Wooyoung entangled alone is always enough to make your toes curl; from their shared, sensual passion, to the simple beauty of their contrasted features, the striking delicacy of Wooyoung melting into San’s masculine solidness.
You could watch them forever like this, but San does not allow you to be their spectator for long. Without even breaking the kiss, he reaches out to tug at your arm, pulling you into them. You go willingly.
Wooyoung welcomes you with a soft whine as you nip and suck at his neck, the split-glistened strap pressing against his half-hard cock. He proves himself every bit the desperate, needy thing that you called him, turning his head to switch between kissing you and San, groaning against your lips as he’s engulfed with heated attention from two ends. Breathlessly he gasps between kisses, trembling while you and San slowly leave a tapestry of hickeys and bitemarks over his neck and shoulders.
It’s when he starts to rock his hips, grinding back against San, that you reach for his dick. It’s still partially soft, still sensitive from cumming earlier. Wooyoung jerks into your grasp, his loud, keening whine stifled by San’s tongue down his throat. Fresh tears spill down Wooyoung’s cheeks as he shakes his head, his hand weakly clinging onto your arm — but his body tells a different story entirely, his spine arching as he contorts with overwhelming pleasure.
You are captivated, your tongue dragging over his wet cheek as you chase an instinct to lick up his tears. “Yeah, you can take it,” you murmur by his ear, making sure to keep a steady pace with your hand. “Want you hard and leaking when I finally fuck you. You owe us that much, don’t you think? Or is our babygirl going to disappoint me again?”
Wooyoung whimpers, head falling back against San’s shoulders. “C-can take it,” he slurs, now openly rocking his hips to fuck up into your hand.
San’s eyes blaze as he watches you exert your control over Wooyoung. Once your hand has settled into a rhythm, San firmly pulls you close again, capturing you in a hard kiss this time. Heatedly he explores the familiar crevices of your mouth while Wooyoung squirms and mewls between you, jaw slackening and eyes rolling back.
Your cunt aches at Wooyoung’s noisy writhing, and you press a gentle hand against San’s shoulder to push him back.
He begrudgingly parts from your lips, breathing hard. Focus slowly returns to his eyes as he grins down at Wooyoung’s wrecked state. “He’s ready?”
“I think so,” you hum, gently cradling Wooyoung’s cheeks. “What do you say, Wooyoungie, ready to take my cock?”
Wooyoung nuzzles at your palm, the rise and fall of his chest slowly steadying. “Ready,” he sighs with a languid smile, tinged with anticipatory excitement. “Want it… want your cock so bad, want you to fuck me…”
You giggle, bumping your forehead against his. “Good boy,” you praise, and leave a light peck on his nose. “Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
Almost effortlessly, San lifts a squirmy Wooyoung on his feet, then onto the bed, manoeuvring him onto all fours.
Wooyoung moans when you run a hand over the sweet curve of his ass, peeking over his shoulder to look at you. You knead at his cheeks, staring intently at how lube has has trickled out his stretched hole, down to his thighs. It’s all too tempting to dive in and lap it up, to tease him with your tongue and sink your teeth into that pretty ass, but you doubt Wooyoung has much patience left in him — and neither do you, for that matter.
“San?” you ask, nudging at the container of lube to reapply a fresh layer. San grabs the bottle; but instead of handing it over to you, he just grins and slides up behind you.
Generously he slicks up his own hand, and your breath hitches as San reaches around to lube up the strap for you. There is something unexpectedly sensual about his big hand gliding over the length of your silicone cock, firm strokes that have you instinctively rocking into his touch, like you can feel him.
Wooyoung lets out an impatient whine. “Please…” he begs, wiggling his ass at you, and you decide he’s been forced to wait long enough.
You softly tap San’s arm, at which he retreats to rest his sticky hand on your waist instead. He hums when you press a soft kiss of gratitude on his lips, and then you turn your full attention back to Wooyoung.
He shudders when the silicone cockhead presses at his entrance, then slowly sinks in.
It’s not the biggest dildo that came with the kit, not quite matching San in thickness, but you preferred to start out with a size that you know Wooyoung can handle. Still, it’s girth is satisfying enough with a nice upward curve, and a subtly ribbed shaft that’s already doing a number on Wooyoung, if the way his fingers dig into the sheets is any indication.
“Oh fuck,” he grits out, eyes clenched shut.
You take your time to bottom out, making sure you can do so comfortably, and Wooyoung comes apart further with every slow inch. His arms buckle, falling onto his elbows when your thighs press against his ass, fully buried inside his tight hole. He pants hard, fingers digging into the sheets.
“Please please please,” he babbles, “oh fuck please move, please fuck me already, fuck—”
“Hm, I think he likes taking your cock,” San observes dryly, a mocking lilt in his voice. He reaches around you to give Wooyoung’s ass a light smack, grinning when Wooyoung whines harder in response. “Yeah, he likes it.”
You don’t react with more than a sound of acknowledgement; too focused on the roll of your hips, too taken in by Wooyoung’s choked noises as you finally take mercy, the ribbed strap gliding in and out at a steady pace.
In a way, the rhythmic motion of thrusting into Wooyoung is intimately familiar, yet also entirely new. You’ve fucked Wooyoung with a toy before, sure, but the simple snap of your hand doesn’t compare to the physicality of using almost your entire body to bury your cock into him. Your arms tense as you hold onto his hips to keep him steady, your thighs and core muscles flex to buck against his ass over and over again.
(Already you can tell that you need to conserve your energy, not wanting to wear yourself out before Wooyoung is a sobbing ruin, utterly wrecked and completely sated.)
Wooyoung gasps and whines with every thrust, his fists tightening into the sheets — but despite his obvious pleasure, a tendril of frustration flicks at you; you’ve seen Wooyoung in the throes of depraved passion often enough to know you’re not hitting the spot that will obliterate him, not in the way San can. You try to adjust, searching for his prostate, but it’s trickier when you can’t actually feel inside him, and your efforts only seem to make your thrusts more awkward.
San puts his hand on your waist when he realises you are getting in your own way, squeezing reassuringly. His breath falls on your ear as he guides your motions, easing your hips into a smooth roll that soon has Wooyoung let out a pitched cry, his entire body jolting.
“That’s it,” San rasps in satisfaction, letting you move on your own again, “that’s how you fuck that tight hole. Look at you making such a pretty mess of Wooyoungie, all cockdrunk on you.”
Wooyoung keens at the praise, whimpering every time you hit that sweet spot.
You can’t help a moan of your own, a hot wire thrumming through your core — that only grows sharper when San’s hands wander down to your ass. At first he just lightly squeezes, but soon he takes full advantage of the harness’ open back, spreading your cheeks apart to expose you to the cool air. His thumbs inch inward; one is still covered with a remnant of lube, slowly circling your sensitive rim.
Your breath hitches at the unexpected touch, making you buck harder into Wooyoung. His voice breaks with every snap of your hips, “Hngh, ah ah—” hiccuped moans spilling past his lips.
San grins, his thumb resting against your entrance, never quite pressing inside. “Fucking him so well, baby,” he groans, lazily sucking a wet patch into your neck. “Tell her, Wooyoung. Tell her how well she’s fucking you.”
“S-so well,” Wooyoung sobs, clawing at the sheets. “Fucking me so well…”
His garbled cries burn through you, the heat inside your core stoked by his writhing, desperate state. So pliant, so willing to surrender himself to you.
However, your thighs burn for another reason entirely; muscles straining with the effort of fucking Wooyoung into this mindless stupor. You slow the roll of your hips, giving yourself a breather while enjoying Wooyoung’s pitiful whines of protest maybe a little too much.
“But this is not enough for you, is it?” you hum, rubbing your hand over the small of Wooyoung’s sweat-slicked back. “You want Sannie’s cock too, to have that clever mouth used again like it should be.”
San lets out a raspy chuckle as Wooyoung nods frantically. “I don’t know, baby, our Wooyoungie looks like he might be at his limit. You sure he can take us both?”
Wooyoung squirms in frustration. “I can, Sannie, you know I can,” he snivels. “Please, want it, want it, San-ah—!”
He jolts when San smacks his ass again, whining loudly as he burrows his face into the bed.
With that, San moves away from you, his fingers digging into the curve of your rear as he goes. Wooyoung moans weakly when San sits on his knees in front of him, clasping Wooyoung’s chin between thumb and index finger to lift his head.
“Then prove it,” San says coolly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Show us what a good cockslut you are.”
Wooyoung shivers at the dismissive tone of San’s challenge, like he isn’t expecting all that much. He shakily pushes himself up on his hands, biting down a groan at how your strap rubs up against his insides. One last glance over his shoulder, while he still can, drinking in the sight of you with hungry, tear-filled eyes.
And a glorious sight you are, shiny drops of sweat beading down the valley of your chest, heaving from exertion. Both of you completely enraptured by this new experience, the new sensations that come with it. The ribbed dildo feels amazing, better than Wooyoung dared hope — but far more than that, he is on the brink because it’s you, you fucking that toy into him.
You catch his gaze, biting your lip at the contact. “Remember, Woo,” you say, voice tight, “remember the signal if I’m too rough on you.”
Wooyoung lets out a hoarse chuckle, giving you the widest, dirtiest grin he can muster. Too rough? On him? Fuck, how are you blowing his back out and still manage to be this adorable? “Sure, will do,” he rasps, tapping San’s thigh in demonstration of the nonverbal sign.
San grasps onto Wooyoung’s chin again, yanking him back. He taps the head of his cock against Wooyoung’s cheek, leaving a trail of precum, exactly where your strap smeared saliva across his face earlier.
“C’mon, Woo,” San says, still giving him that unimpressed look, the one that makes Wooyoung squirm without fail, “do you want this cock down your throat or not?”
Wooyoung’s breath instantly shallows, his jaw relaxing on instinct. He groans in bliss as San nudges the flushed tip past his swollen lips, sinking home. Your hips move in a slow roll and Wooyoung lets himself get swept away by the rhythm, taking San deeper inch by inch.
His mind goes blank, lost in the toe-curling slide of your strap, the hefty weight of San on his tongue — fuck, he loves sucking that fat cock. How the thickness of it strains his jaw, but within manageable levels after all the countless practise he’s enjoyed. He’s proud of that, how his gag reflex has faded to a mere afterthought, only brought back to the forefront when he’s caught off guard (and even then, it’s good). Proud of the cracks in San’s unaffected facade that Wooyoung breaks through with nothing but the tightness of his throat and his skilful tongue.
Right now though, you’re making it harder for Wooyoung to use that tongue to its full potential. Every rough thrust jostles him, pushes San’s dick deeper without any room for skill, reducing Wooyoung to nothing but a cocksleeve to be used. (San does not seem to mind, his groans low and breathy.)
He whimpers as you slam into him without mercy, his aching cock slapping against his stomach with a lewd smacking sound, drawing sharp jolts of pleasure. You’ve well and truly honed in on his sweet spot now, pressure building up and up and up until Wooyoung feels like he’s clawing at the ceiling. San’s hand rests on Wooyoung’s throat, squeezing with only a gentle pressure to keep him steady as he’s split open from two ends; an overwhelming barrage of sensations that goes beyond feeling ‘full’. Wooyoung feels whole.
Desperately he moans around San’s cock with a muffled, pathetic sob, the world blurring out of focus. One brush of a hand against his throbbing dick and he’d be done for, he’s sure of it; but despite cumming untouched earlier, now that edge stays just out of reach. Trapping Wooyoung at the height of pleasure with nowhere to come down.
He’s whimpering, body trembling under the unending onslaught. Too much, some might cry out — but not Wooyoung, never Wooyoung.
No, for him it is perfect. He stopped believing in ‘too much’ long ago, after he heard enough of those two words in his life. That he talks too much, wants too much, gives too much, is too much.
But here, between these two hearts, he is exactly right.
Addled memories flood through his dizzied thoughts, physical pleasure blurring into intense emotion.
With San, Wooyoung knew it from the very start; an unshakeable certainty within moments of their first meeting. San has always embraced his chaotic energy, soaking it up like a sponge and giving back to Wooyoung in equal measure. Making it easy for Wooyoung to throw himself into their relationship with what some might call reckless abandon — but San never dropped him. He is never too much for San.
Wooyoung had been too much for you, once. Crashing head-first into your boundaries back when he kissed you; pushing too hard because he did not want to be pushed away. But it only brought you closer, seeking out the places where you can meet each other; where Wooyoung can be himself without compromise without compromising you. Where Wooyoung can taste the word ‘love’ in his mouth and see you light up with joy, the same joy that you and San give him in turn.
No, he’ll never be too much for you either. He knows that now.
Wooyoung lets out a hoarse, garbled cry at a hard hit of your cock against his prostate, breaking him out of his hazy thoughts and right back to the present, back in the middle of your and San’s heated attention and affection. Right where Wooyoung thrives.
Fuck, he’s light-headed. He feels like he’s floating, vaguely hears praise drift to him from both sides. Good boy. Taking it so well. That’s what those pretty holes are good for. He’s drowning in it, barely feeling his body anymore, only the pleasure buzzing through him.
He slowly realises San’s fingers are tangled through his hair, helping his head stay up.
Wooyoung moans indulgently, blinking up at him. He can only imagine what a mess San is looking at; Wooyoung can feel the wetness of spittle and tears trailing down his cheeks, his chin, even his throat. Fuck, he wishes you could see it too, what a fucking pathetic wreck he is for you both.
San makes a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a groan as he looks down on Wooyoung. “Cockdrunk,” he says, his grin sharp. “Completely wasted. Can you even handle my load or are you too fucked out to swallow?”
Immediately Wooyoung whines in protest. He can do it, he can do anything for you and San. Doesn’t want San to pull out, doesn’t want you to stop moving, not yet not now not ever. He swallows around San’s cockhead, messily lavishing his tongue against the twitching shaft.
You giggle breathily at Wooyoung’s enthusiasm, squeezing at his hip. “Now San, don’t underestimate our Wooyoungie,” you playfully admonish him. “This is what he’s made for. He can take it.”
Yes yes yes. Agreement sings through Wooyoung as he humps back against you in gratitude. You get it. You understand.
San grunts at the stifled moans around his cock, Wooyoung’s increased efforts causing him to hiss sharply through gritted teeth. He can’t last much longer, his fingers tightening in Wooyoung’s hair, breath going pitchy as his hips jerk.
Wooyoung groans when San’s cock twitches in his mouth, hot sticky ropes of cum hitting his tongue. Maybe he is a little too fucked out after all, some seed trickling down his chin as he struggles to gulp down every drop with lewd, wet noises.
San pants harshly as he slips out, pumping himself with quick strokes to wrest as much as he can for Wooyoung to take. Finally he wipes the tip on Wooyoung's glossy lips, then nudges him to turn his head and give you a proper view. Your sharp moan lances through Wooyoung's painfully hard cock — but distress takes over when you slow down.
So close, he was so close oh god you can’t stop now. Wooyoung sobs pitifully, wiggling his hips as he babbles his wretched pleas.
Your cunt throbs at his desperation, his face flushed red and shiny with bodily fluids. Equal parts guilt and arousal sear through you at the unintentional denial, but fuck your thighs are burning. (Today has given you a whole new appreciation for San's muscle strength.)
“Shh, it’s okay, just want you to ride me,” you hum, stroking his quivering thigh. “Wanna see that beautiful face when you cum, can you do that for me, Wooyoungie?”
He lets out another choked up sob but nods frantically, whimpering when you pull out to lay down. Shakily he moves to sit in your lap, helped by San’s steady hold. Wooyoung whines in relief when you fill him up again, after a fresh coating of lube. He groans at the new angle, throwing his head back.
You rub your hands up and down his thighs, letting your eyes wander over him; his sweat-slicked torso, the veins pulsing in his shaky arms, cock leaking against his stomach. You lightly wrap your fingers around it, causing Wooyoung to stutter out a surprised “Ah—!”
“Go ahead, Woo. Show me,” you tell him breathily, bucking your hips up. “Show me how badly you want to cum on my cock.”
Wooyoung does not need to be told twice. He leans back to brace his hands on your legs, arching his back. The roll of his hips starts slow, easing himself into it, but soon you can see his lithe muscles rippling as he bounces in your lap. There is no restraint in him, his face contorted with pleasure as he whines, gasping every time you buck your hips to meet his. He looks utterly deprived. He is perfect.
San curls up next to you on his side, sluggish in the wake of his own orgasm. He pecks at your shoulder, tracing lazy circles on your stomach, close to where Wooyoung fucks into your hand as he moves. “You haven’t cum yet, have you?” San murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your skin.
“N-not yet,” you admit, “but—”
But fuck, you are getting close.
It’s been a long, slow build-up with the base of the strap rubbing against your cunt; not always catching your clit just right, but you have a bit more control now that you’re laying down, to wiggle or guide Wooyoung’s hips. More than that, you are so deeply mesmerised by Wooyoung that his pleasure might as well be your own. Fucking himself seemingly tireless even though he’s gasping for breath, surely reaching his limit. His whiny sobs sear through you, your own breath catching in your throat as you slowly, inevitably, begin to tilt over.
San lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, and slings an arm over you to leisurely play with one of your tits. The light pecks on your shoulder turn to insistent, open-mouthed kisses as San sucks wet bruises into your skin. You bite down a whine as he thumbs at your nipple, your hips bucking up harder into Wooyoung. You move your hand quicker, stubborn to drag Wooyoung right down with you.
“God, look at you,” you groan, straining to get the words out, “look so pretty, crying on my cock.”
Wooyoung makes a strangled noise. “’Cause— ‘cause it feels so good,” he chokes out. “Y-you—” but whatever else he wants to say is drowned out by breathless, high-pitched moans.
You use your last shreds of energy to piston the strap harder into Wooyoung, jostling him in your lap. His body bows forward, hands scrambling to grab onto your shoulders, almost knocking San in the face. San nips at Wooyoung’s wrist, but easily readjusts by latching his mouth onto your breast instead.
You tense up, hips stuttering as you curse under your breath — and then San’s teeth sink into the soft, sensitive flesh, biting down. The pain jolts through you like a catalyst, your peak rushing at you; you try to stave it off, try to get Wooyoung there first, but that only makes it chase you faster. The force of it rips through your nerve endings, your nails digging into Wooyoung’s waist as you finally topple over with a ragged cry. Your toes curl almost painfully, body trembling as white-hot sparks fray your senses.
Your eyes try to squeeze shut but you force them open, gasping breathless moans as you stare up at Wooyoung; intent on seeing him succumb before you can fully come down from your own high.
His abdominal muscles flex with tension, his thighs clenching as he threatens to lose his rhythm. You shakily pick up the pace with your hand, sliding over the slick length of his cock. Wooyoung keens and weakly ruts against your strap, keeping constant pressure on your still-twitching cunt. San’s fingers wrap around yours, helping you to keep moving while you squirm from the relentless waves rippling through you.
Wooyoung lets out a throttled whine, doubling over as he unravels, spilling a hot and sticky mess all over your fingers and stomach. Your grip on him weakens, but San forces you to keep moving, milking Wooyoung for everything he’s got until he’s shaking uncontrollably on top of you, sobbing out pathetic whimpers.
When San finally takes mercy and lets go, Wooyoung crumples on top of you with a tired moan. The dildo slips out as he burrows himself in your arms, uncaring for the watery strings of cum smeared between your bodies.
“Oh fuck… that was… ‘s was fucking amazing…” he mumbles, nuzzling against your chest.
You giggle tiredly, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Yes? Did we make a good investment into our future with this one?”
“Mhn…” Wooyoung makes a vague noise of affirmation. He seems about ready to pass out, but there’s still a dazed smile on his face when San tips up his chin. “Good, yeah…”
San’s lips curl into a fond smile, chuckling when Wooyoung grouses at being manoeuvred just enough so San can take the harness off of you. He sets the glistening dildo aside for later cleaning, then gives your worn-out cunt an affectionate pat. You whine even at the light touch, but sigh contently when his warm hands massage your sore thighs. Fuck, you’re going to have one hell of a muscle-ache tomorrow.
San grins at your pained expression. “Wanted to see Wooyoung ride you, hm?” he teases. “No other reason for changing that up, I’m sure.”
“What are you insinuating, Choi San?” you grumble, half-heartedly rolling your eyes.
He laughs, continuing to work your aching muscles. “Nothing, nothing! Just… are you sure you don’t want to join me at the gym sometime?”
You make a face at him, at the same time that Wooyoung pipes up, “Nu-uh. If you need an extra workout, you can just fuck me some more.”
“…That does sound like a lot more fun than a gym membership,” you accede. “Sorry, San.”
San chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t argue with that. C’mon, let’s get that mess cleaned up,” he says, nudging Wooyoung to roll off of from you with a groan.
You take the wet-wipes that San offer you, and clean the dried crusts of cum on Wooyoung’s stomach. His eyes are half-lidded and he hums weakly when you stroke his cheek; you suspect he’ll doze off for real soon.
“Hm, would be nice if we could find a place that has a bathtube,” you sigh wistfully as you start to clean yourself, yearning for the comfort of a warm soak right now. “Though I guess it’d be hard to find one that fits all three of us.”
“I like that,” San smiles while he tugs a blanket over Wooyoung to make sure he doesn’t get cold. “We’ll make it work somehow. We always do.”
“Stacked on top of each other?” you suggest playfully.
San pouts. “I’d feel bad for whoever is at the bottom,” he says, utterly earnest — and you’d tease him for it, if your heart didn’t burst with affection at his simple, straightforward consideration.
Wooyoung, however, has no such hangups. “Then it has to be you, I guess,” he mumbles with a tired grin.
San’s pout intensifies into a sulk, but his face instantly softens when Wooyoung tugs at his and your wrists, wanting you closer. Soon Wooyoung is snuggled up in the middle, embraced from both sides. He groans happily at the gentle kisses San presses against his neck, the featherlight brush of your fingertips over his cheek, your arm slung lazily around him.
You catch San’s eyes while Wooyoung dozes off, warmth glowing in your chest at his dimpled smile. He reaches over Wooyoung to rest his hand on your waist, always in need of those little physical threads of connection. You shift your leg to weave another thread, hooking your ankle around his shin. The three of you fitting together perfectly.
“Come on, go talk to him then,” Wooyoung sighs at you in exasperation, one hand on his hip, the other holding a spatula as he waves you off. “You’ve been nosy about him for ages, now you got your chance and you’re in here distracting me instead? No ma’am, get your fine ass out there.”
“But—”
Wooyoung gives you no time for excuses, grabbing your shoulders from behind and forcibly ushering you out of the kitchen, to the living area. To San, and to the guy San’s talking to.
The ever-illusive, long awaited friend, finally back in town.
Jeong Yunho.
Honestly, you don’t even know why you’re nervous about this. It’s not like Yunho is the first close friend of San and Wooyoung that you’ve met; you’ve even talked to him before! Just over voice chat, saying ‘hi’ when San or Wooyoung are gaming with him, but still!
Wooyoung’s photographs have even prepared you for his ridiculously handsome face (seriously, why are all of their friends like this?!), but you’re still caught off guard by his physical presence. It’s not just his height, though that’s definitely a factor. Just something about the way he stands in the room, his posture relaxed with an easy confidence. Really, Yunho shouldn’t be intimidating; he oozes kindness and reliability, the type of guy who personally makes sure you get home safe after having one drink too many at the bar.
Maybe it’s the glances he’s been casting your way. Something in his thoughtful expression makes you feel like he’s carefully taking your measure. Seizing up if you’re right for his friends.
…Or maybe it’s not that deep, and you simply are anxious about making a good impression. After all, this is the guy who helped San to work through his insecurities, and even introduced him to Wooyoung. Without him, you’d never have ended up in this cosy arrangement with them.
While you cautiously go up to him and San, Wooyoung calls out from the kitchenette.
“Oi, Sannie, can you help me out with something!”
Oh, that bastard.
You look over your shoulder to fire a glare at Wooyoung, but he just grins back at you. You roll your eyes, sigh out those nerves, and go over to Yunho. San gives you a wink as he walks past, and also gives your ass a light smack. Yeah. Figures.
Yunho’s big brown eyes shine with curiosity as you approach him.
“So. You’re San and Wooyoung’s… friend, right?” he says, with the slightly hesitant tone of someone who knows he’s dealing with a square hole but only has round pegs to try and fit in there. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”
“Yeah, same,” you smile back at him, internally cursing Wooyoung into the special circle of hell reserved for backstabbing traitors. “And ‘friend’ is not inaccurate, no,” you allow, trying for a shy grin. “We’re still workshopping it out! The latest idea was that I call the guys my ‘umbrellas’, but… yeah. Maybe a little more time in the workshop for that one.”
“Umbrellas?” Yunho blinks in confusion, but it only takes a split second before understanding breaks out on his face. “Ahh, got it — ‘Woosan’.” He giggles, hiding his mouth behind his hand. You can’t lie; it’s pretty dang cute. “San came up with that one, didn’t he?”
“He did!” you giggle with Yunho, the shared laugh helping you to relax. “Was real proud of it too!”
With the discovery of a common ground between you (a penchant for lovingly poking fun at San and Wooyoung), you loosen up and fall into light conversation. His laugh is easy and his jokes are playful, and it’s soon obvious to you why the guys are so attached to him.
Apparently Yunho is coming to a similar conclusion about you, eyeing you with a thoughtful expression.
“You know, to be honest I was surprised to hear San and Wooyoung wanted to try something with a third. Really surprised,” he chuckles awkwardly, scratching his cheek. “San was pretty clear he wanted a closed relationship. But… yeah. I can see it. Makes sense.”
He nods, and something has softened in his eyes while he talked. Suddenly you have the distinct impression that you weren’t wrong for feeling like Yunho was taking your measure.
A small smile curves around your lips at Yunho’s simple observation, your eyes glancing to the kitchenette where San is ‘helping’ Wooyoung by stealing food and getting in his way. “I mean, none of us really planned for me to stick around like this,” you point out, feeling oddly timid. “We didn’t plan for any of this to shake out this way. It just… did.”
Yunho hums in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that’s just how things go sometimes, isn’t it,” he says, his smile crooked. “Well, whatever you end up calling this, they seem real happy with how it’s going. If they’re your umbrellas, what’d that make you? Their parka?” he teases.
“Oh hell no!” you splutter. “Veto, veto! Don’t you dare put that idea into their heads, I’d rather make do without any labels at all, thankyouverymuch!”
“Alright, I won’t!” Yunho giggles again at your indigence, round cheeks lifted by his laugh. “Label or no label, whichever way works for you, right? And clearly this works.”
You glance at San and Wooyoung again, bubbles of warmth popping in your chest at the sight of them. San has abandoned all pretence at being helpful, his chest pressed against Wooyoung’s back and arms wrapped around his waist, trying to smooch him while Wooyoung is completely focused on the food.
San is the one who sees you watching them first, his cheeks dimpling at you in a soft smile. Wooyoung quickly notices San’s attention wandering, but his vaguely offended expression fades when he catches your eye, replaced by a cheeky grin. (Ugh fine, yes his stupid little plan worked.)
“Yeah, it works,” you say quietly to Yunho, feeling San and Wooyoung’s affection wrap around you even all the way from the other side of the room. It really does.
Are you going to give spoilers for the next chapter?
ohhhh i hadn’t planned to but i mean… 👀 ask and ye shall receive 👀
here are the first ~650 words of the next part under the cut, as a lil teaser! no warnings, just San being the goodest boy ♡ & Mrs Yoon making a comeback uwu
By the time San gets back to the apartment building after his late afternoon gym visit, the sky is already darkening and a crisp smell hangs in the air from an autumn shower that recently passed by. It’s invigorating, keeping San bright and alert despite the satisfying ache in his body from his post-workout exhaustion.
He picks up the mail on his way back; including yours, of course. His key chain has been a little heavier for a good while now with yours added to the bunch, but he likes the weight and jingle of it in his hand.
San absentmindedly sifts through the mail as he waits for the elevator to come down. Finally the door opens with its familiar ‘ding’ — revealing one of San’s neighbours inside.
Mrs Yoon, to be exact.
“Oh! Hi, Mrs Yoon,” San says awkwardly, standing aside to let her through. He tries not to think about the last time he talked to the old lady, which only makes him think about it harder, an embarrassed heat burning under his skin.
Mrs Yoon gives him a crinkled smile as she steps out the elevator. “Hello, young man,” she politely greets him back.
There’s a cheeky glint in her eyes, and San can’t decide if it’s a mercy or a torment that she doesn’t acknowledge their previous conversation, leaving it all unspoken between them. Instead she simply wishes San a pleasant evening and starts to walk past him, going about her business without embarrassing him any further.
It’s probably intended as a mercy — but something nags at San as Mrs Yoon leaves, and he realises he can’t let her go just yet.
“Ah, Mrs Yoon, could you wait a moment? Please?” he asks. “There is something I’d like to talk about.”
She stops her little shuffle towards the exit, blinking at San in surprise. “Of course, dear. What’s on your mind?”
What’s on his mind? You. You are.
Specifically, the jaded resignation on your face when you’d brushed off San’s concern about Mrs Yoon’s boyfriend-comment; when you told him you’re used to it.
He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like that you need apathy to shield yourself from a world that’s oblivious to your lived experience at best, and at worst believes it’s something to be fixed. San isn’t naive; he knows he can’t take away society’s constant pressure for romantic attachment by himself. But there is something he can do right here and now.
Maybe today, he can be your shield instead.
“Um, Mrs Yoon, when we ran across you the other day… I just wanted to say, she’s not my girlfriend,” San says with calm warmth, a friendly smile on his face. Making it clear as politely as possible that he’s not starting a discussion, just stating a fact.
Mrs Yoon blinks at him in confusion, but then she breaks out in a smile of her own, filled with misplaced understanding.
“Ahhh, I see! And the other young man, he is not your boyfriend then, hm?” she grins slyly, like she’s in on some covert plot of secrecy. “I got it, your secret is safe with me. Though if I can give a piece of advice; a little more discretion wouldn’t hurt if you want to keep it a secret for much longer! If an old biddy like me has figured it out, then I can’t be the only one.”
San sighs a weary chuckle at the further misunderstanding. “No, no there’s no secrets. Wooyoung is my boyfriend,” he says, and Mrs Yoon’s confusion comes back tenfold. “But it’s different with her. We’re… We are friends. Really close friends. She’s very important to me.”
Something softens in Mrs Yoon’s face at San’s simple earnestness. She scratches her chin as she mulls it over, but eventually comes to a decision with a firm nod. “Hmm, well. Nothing wrong with that either, I suppose. Just as long as you three treat each other right.”
The safe politeness in San’s smile melts away, making way for honest happiness. “We do, Mrs. Yoon. Always.”
ch. summary: San goes on a little journey of self-discovery with you.
wc: 14k
ch. warnings: sub San, switch / dom reader & Wooyoung, like 5 sec of manhandling & dryhumping, shibari / bondage, praise kink, body worship, cock-warming, orgasm denial, finger sucking, oral, dacryphilia, DVP (fingers & cock), creampie, cum play, Wooyoung fucks San’s tiddies, cum shot (on those same tiddies), multiple orgasms, condomless sex w/ an IUD, San is called ‘good boy’, reader is called ‘baby’ & ‘good girl’, one encounter of amatonormativity from a well-intentioned neighbour, potential second-hand embarrassment
a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.
“Pick me, I’m tasty!” the little raccoon dog mascot on the instant noodles package says to you, in an adorably pitchy sing-song voice. San pokes his face out from behind the package, his open-mouthed smile so wide and bright he almost looks like a cartoon character himself.
You giggle at San’s antics, though you ignore the packet in his hands and reach for a different flavour from the store’s shelves. “Cute! But no; Wooyoung asked for this one,” you say, holding up the extra spicy variant.
“That’s what Wooyoung asked for, yes,” San pouts, reverting back to his normal voice, “but he always steals mine and leaves the hot ones for me. He can buy them himself if he wants them, I’m not doing this anymore! My mouth has burned enough.”
“Fine fine, this is a lovers’ quarrel I’m not getting involved in,” you laugh at San’s impassioned speech. “If he complains, I’m telling him it’s your fault!”
And so only the mildest of instant noodles end up in your cart before you go through the rest of the store. The separation between your groceries and those of San and Wooyoung grows blurrier with every trip; Wooyoung didn’t even ask if you were joining them for dinner, only how you felt about beef bibimbap for tonight.
It’s busy at the store today, meaning there’s a bit of a line for the cash registry. Bored by the wait, San toys with the strings of his hoodie. He fiddles with them for a while, then pulls the strings taut until the hoodie hides all but a glimpse of his face, his nose peeking out along with a tiny feline grin on his lips.
At first you just fondly watched him — but now you can’t resist temptation. You steal the strings away from San to tie them into a tight knot, trapping him in his hoodie.
“Ack!” San yelps, startled and pawing at your hands to get back control of the strings.
Giggling, you take mercy on him and undo the knot again. “Sorry, guess I’m in the mood to practice a little more ropework today,” you joke, taking off San’s hood and fixing a few upright tufts of his hair.
“Oh, are you now?” he says, his indignant sulk only tempting you to do it again. “Starting to regret I taught you anything at all. You have way too much power now.”
“The power of tying a simple knot?!” you laugh. “Don’t take too much credit, mister, I didn’t need you to teach me that one!”
But San has been teaching you. Eagerly, even.
From the moment you expressed an interest, San happily jumped on the chance to pass on his knowledge of bondage. He does teach for a living, after all; and though ropework is obviously a far cry from taekwondo, he instructed you with the same enthusiasm that he has for his students.
Meanwhile, Wooyoung happily volunteered himself as a practice subject. Sometimes he’d nag at you, so used to San’s skilful fingers that yours set off his impatience — but for the most part, Wooyoung proved unexpectedly useful, his candid feedback making it easier to get a feel for judging rope tension.
And although you’d first meant it as a joke to tease San, now you do actually feel an itch in your fingers.“So… could we? Practise some more today?” you ask, lowering your voice, keeping your words vague on purpose, although none of the staff or other customers are paying you any mind.
“Today?” San says, lines crinkling between his brows. “Ah, I don’t know, Wooyoung will be out to the movies with Yeosang later…”
“He’s going without you?” you ask, distracted by the new piece of information. “What, have you been hoarding Sangie too much to yourself again?”
San’s bottom lip juts into a pout. “I don’t hoard him, I’m just not into the movie!” he protests, so earnestly that you wonder if he really believes it, or if he’s forgotten about the time you saw him clinging onto Wooyoung’s childhood friend for an entire game night, stubborn in his attempts to lay a smooch on Yeosang’s cheek.
(Yeosang’s dramatic aversion to his friends’ kisses always gets a giggle out of you. He can’t fool you; you know from experience that San and Wooyoung would cut it out if he really minded it that much.)
“Though I guess we don’t need Woo,” San muses, smoothly turning the subject away from the Yeosang-hoarding allegations. “You could try some stuff on yourself, feel first-hand what you’re doing.”
“…Or I could practice on you…?” you suggest, half playful, half probing.
San blinks in surprise, like the thought had not occurred to him — but the conversation is put on a temporary halt when it’s your turn to check out your groceries. He frowns while packing everything up, thoughtful but also tentative, like it’s the first time he’s ever even considered to let someone tie him up.
San’s frown has faded by the time you step out of the store, but he still has a quiet, contemplative look on his face.
“No pressure, obviously,” you say, nudging his arm with your elbow. “About the practice thing. It was just a thought.”
“No no! It’s…” San shakes his head and gives you a small grin. “You know what? Let’s try it. Put your knowledge to the test!”
“Right,” you grin back at him, a little spring in your step as you walk back home together. There’s a gleam in San’s eyes too, growing brighter as he gets more and more used to the idea of trying something new with you.
It’s just a short walk back to the apartment building, where you come across your downstairs neighbour at the elevator; Mrs Yoon, a tiny old lady carrying a package that looks far too big and heavy for her.
San, ever the gentleman, immediately passes one of his grocery bags over to you and takes the box from Mrs Yoon.
“Always such a nice, helpful boy,” she coos over San, tip-toeing to reach and pinch his cheek. Mrs Yoon somewhat resembles a shrivelled apple, small and round and wrinkled — but any conversation proves that she’s still got plenty of juice left in her.
“Does he take such good care of you too?” she asks you, a playful glint in her eyes. “I’m sure he does, I can tell he’s great… ‘Boyfriend material’, that’s the word you young folk use nowadays, isn’t it?”
You flinch briefly, but recover fast. It’s not like this is the first time people have made assumptions about you and San, or you and Wooyoung. Hell, you and Hongjoong used to deal with this too. Through necessity you have cultivated a certain degree of resigned patience for these situations.
Still, it was long enough that San beats you to the punch, shaking his head at Mrs Yoon with a friendly smile. “No, Mrs Yoon, I’m—” he starts, but hesitates when a clear alternative fails to present itself.
It doesn’t matter anyway; she easily breezes past San’s protest. “And the other handsome young man, of course! I had not forgotten, don’t worry,” she says with a cheeky grin of joyful wrinkles, her giggle like a reedy cackle. “I heard the three of you spending your time together well.”
San’s cheeks go completely beet red, for a split-second you’re confused by his embarrassment — but then it sinks in what Mrs Yoon meant by having ‘heard’ you.
She heard you, just like you used to hear San and Wooyoung.
You stammer an apology, but she waves it off. “Oh hush,” she says firmly. “I was young once too, I know what it’s like. Good on you kids, you need to enjoy it while you can! It’s alright to have a little extra fun.”
The elevator dings as it reaches Mrs Yoon’s floor, and San almost trips over his feet as he walks her to her apartment to take the heavy package inside. You awkwardly wait for him to get back, embarrassment still flowing hotly in your veins. San does not look much better off when he shuffles back into the elevator, wordlessly taking back the grocery bag he passed over to you earlier so he could help your old, lively neighbour.
He clears his throat, trying for an easygoing grin. “For the record, I have been informed that Mrs Yoon very much enjoys the silence when she turns her hearing aid off, and doesn’t mind doing so at all.”
“Oh god,” you groan, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in your hands — except maybe sink through the elevator floor, letting yourself plummet straight to the bottom and down into the very core of the earth.
“At least she’s cool about non-monogamy?” San tries for a crooked smile, though redness still blooms across his cheeks. “Though I guess she only has half the right idea of us.”
“Yeah, I guess…” you say, still mulling on San’s earlier moment of speechlessness.
San frowns, concern gleaming in his eyes at your timid response. “You okay?” he asks; San is not unbothered by assumptions about the three of you either, but he knows they hit a little differently for you.
“Oh, yeah, yes I’m okay,” you say, though you can tell he’s not exactly convinced. “It just kinda hit me that I don’t know what the ‘right’ idea about us is. Or how to put it into words, at least. We never really bothered to define much, did we?”
“No, we didn’t,” he says, opening the door to his apartment. “…I thought you preferred it that way? Not trying too hard to fit ourselves into a label?”
“True, true,” you admit, stepping inside. (You faintly hear Wooyoung’s voice from the living area.) “And I still don’t want to force anything. It’s just… inconvenient sometimes, you know.”
How would you describe San and Wooyoung? Your friends? Well, yes, but you don’t feel like that covers the full scope of things in this context. Partners? Too… formal. Definitely not your boyfriends. No matter what word pops up in your head, it chafes; nothing fits as smoothly as a simple ‘your San’ and ‘your Wooyoung’.
San glances over his shoulder as he hauls the grocery bags into the living area, raising an eyebrow at you. “Inconvenient for us, or inconvenient for other people?” he asks pointedly. “If we’re happy with how we do things, or what we call them, it’s not our problem if others get confused.”
You blink at San. “…Damn. Good point.”
“I make those sometimes!”
“Of course, some people try their damn best to turn it into our problem.”
“Shush. Don’t take this away from me,” San chides, but he quiets when he realises Wooyoung is talking to someone on video call. Wooyoung gives you a distracted wave, but stays focused on his conversation. Something about his most recent crafts project, customising an old jacket.
“Yeah, I saw the pictures, it looks good, I like how you placed the lettering,” the voice from Wooyoung’s phone says — and you break out into a smile when you recognise that voice, all else forgotten.
“Joong!” you say, wrapping a loose arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders as you slide up behind him, stoked to see your oldest friend on the screen. He’s currently rocking cranberry red hair, matched with a grungy blazer, and grins when he sees you.
You embrace this chance for a brief but lively surprise meeting, always missing Hongjoong; even if he did come over for a visit just a few weeks ago.
During that time, he and Wooyoung rapidly developed the type of friendship where you’re not always sure if Hongjoong adores Wooyoung to absolute bits, or if he wants to stick him behind the wallpaper. (Though today clearly is an adoration day.) San is still a little quiet around Hongjoong, anxious for approval from your best friend, so he shyly hangs around in the back while you and Wooyoung chat/bicker with Hongjoong.
It’s not too long before the call ends, some work schedule thing forcing Hongjoong to leave. Work has kept him real busy lately, and you quietly resolve to send him a little care package this week.
Once Hongjoong disappears from his phone’s screen, Wooyoung turns to you.
“What was that talk earlier when you guys came back? Sounded kinda serious. Were you overthinking again?”
“I wasn’t overthi—! …Okay, yeah fine maybe I was,” you admit.
“About what?”
“Labels,” San pipes up from the kitchenette. “Hey, you gonna help me out here?”
“Sorry, yeah!” You join San to properly finish up the chore of grocery shopping together, and smile when you find one packet of spicy noodles between the milder ones as you put them away.
Wooyoung’s face wrinkles up. “You were overthinking labels? I thought you were on my side about those.”
(Like you, Wooyoung also does not feel a strong need to confine your relationship within strict definitions. San is the most traditional-minded out of your trio when it comes to these things; but he values happiness over conformity a million times over, content to let the issue rest for your and Wooyoung’s comfort.)
“I am, I am!” you say. “Mrs Yoon just punted me into a five-second long spiral when she pretty much called San my boyfriend and we didn’t know how to correct her. I’ve unspiralled already, I swear! Crisis over before it even started.”
“No, fair enough,” Wooyoung allows. “‘My non-romantic life partner who I fuck on the regular’ just doesn’t roll off the tongue, does it?”
“Nope. But…” You trail off, recognising an opportunity to smoothly slide into a topic that crossed your mind recently. “‘My neighbour’ is also technically correct, I suppose,” you say cheekily, smiling when San instantly grouses at the distant, casual term, “but who’s to say we’ll be neighbours forever? I mean, it’d be cool to at least upgrade to ‘roommates’ someday, right?”
For a split moment, the guys are struck silent by the suggestion. Not that long ago, it would’ve been enough to punt you into another five-second spiral, fretting whether you massively misjudged the situation — but it’s not enough anymore. You’re steadier than that by now, secure in your place within this barely-defined relationship.
And surely a gradual smile breaks out on Wooyoung’s face like in slow-motion, his eyes shining in delight. You let out an ‘umph’ when two strong arms suddenly wrap around you from behind, San’s reassuring weight settling against you.
“Yeah. That’d be cool,” San murmurs as he pulls you firmly into him, pressing his cheek against the side of your head.
“Hadn’t expected you to be the one to bring that up,” Wooyoung says, his teasing grin undermined by the softness drawn into his face.
You lean back into San with a little scoff, rolling your eyes half-playfully, half-serious. “Hey c’mon, stop acting like I’ll bolt at the tiniest whiff of commitment! I’ve proven enough by now that you guys are stuck with me, right?”
“Okay okay,” San says with a laugh, “we’ll try to stop treating you like a flight risk! It’s just— Me and Woo talked about this like, a few days ago.”
“Pff, ‘talked’?” Wooyoung huffs, coming over to put an arm around San, who still has his arms around you. “What San means is he picked a fight with me about it.”
“A fight?!” You turn your head to look back at them, blinking in confusion.
“A real stupid one too!”
“Hey, don’t say it like that, she’s gonna get the wrong idea!” San protests. “It was just a misunderstanding is all!”
“Guys…”
“All I said was that the apartment is feeling a bit small these days, that next time we should look for something bigger, a better fit for us!” Wooyoung sighs. “There I was, trying to throw you a hint, but you just started sulking and grumbling at me like I’d already packed my bags to move out and abandon her the next day!”
“Really?” you ask, a smile breaking out on your face at San’s abashed disgruntlement.
Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “He got so cross at the idea of not being neighbours that he didn’t even bother to actually listen to what I was saying. Why do you think the apartment felt too damn small, you idiot?”
“Just didn’t sit right with me,” San mumbles. “The idea of not living next to each other. Or with each other. Not being close.”
“Which is why I brought it up,” Wooyoung says, poking at San’s cheek. “I thought we should talk about it before becomes a thing.” His eyes flicker to you, seriousness smoothing over his face. “So yeah, you beat us to the punch. It’s not like I’m in a rush or got it all planned out or anything, I mean I just moved here, but… I don’t know, did we get lazy? About us, about figuring stuff out?”
Warmth spreads through your chest as you listen to them, but Wooyoung’s question brings you a little closer back down to earth.
“Maybe? Yeah, maybe we did get complacent,” you admit. Nothing wrong with not labelling things but… “We never really bothered to sit down and talk things through after the whole ‘hey, let’s stick together for a long time’ talk, yeah. Never talked about what that actually looks like.”
“We were too busy enjoying the moment to think ahead, yeah,” San says with a breathy chuckle, clutching a little tighter onto you.
“To be fair,” Wooyoung says, a grin returning to his lips, “the moments have been pretty damn great. So… does that settle it? Next place we move into, we move in together? Something nice and a little bigger, with an extra bedroom so you got your own space?”
“For someone who doesn’t have it all planned out, you sure put a lot of thought into it,” you giggle, reaching a hand to find Wooyoung’s. “Yeah. That settles it.”
“So. You got upset at the thought of not living next to me, huh?” You give San a cheeky grin, unable to resist teasing him about earlier. “That’s cute.”
You’re both kneeling on his bed, some soft music playing in the background. Dressed for comfort, San is wearing his grey sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt — and you just finished tying a rope around his wrists, after he took you through a refresher of some basics. San was in the middle of diligently inspecting your work, but your teasing has knocked him straight out of teacher mode, into pouty mode.
“Shut up, Wooyoung wasn’t as obvious about his ‘hints’ as he made it sound,” he sulks. He looks back down on the rope, then gives you a heavy side-eye. “…Did you wait on purpose to make fun of me until I was tied up?”
“No way, I’d never make fun of you for being cute,” you say matter-of-factly.
San squints suspiciously at your tone, trying to figure out if you are, in fact, making fun of him again.
“Okay but seriously, does this feel alright?” you ask, squeezing his bound hands. San had stayed mostly quiet when you tied him up; you don’t need much instruction anymore for basic knots — but you did catch a few steadying breaths from him, the bondage clearly having some effect on San.
“It’s… different,” he says hesitantly.
“Need me to take them off?” you ask at once, ready to pry the knot loose, but San shakes his head.
“No, no, they can stay on. It just—” San frowns, struggling for words. “It’s just not my usual thing,” he eventually settles on. “Letting go of control… It’s not exactly my strong point.”
“Ah, so this is not just practice for me, but for you too!” you tease, but you rub a reassuring thumb over his knuckles as you do so. Curiosity nags at you, and you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind ever since you first suggested using him as your guinea pig. “…Is this your first time getting tied up?”
“I used to practice on myself, way back, but other than that? Yeah, first time.” San chuckles at your contemplative expression. “What’s with that face? It can’t be a surprise that a dom doesn’t get tied up on the regular, can it?”
You shrug. “I mean, you’re usually in charge, yeah; being submissive is clearly not your go-to. But never? I don’t know, the few times we mixed things up… you enjoyed it, right? Like the morning after I stayed over? You can’t tell me you weren’t into getting spoiled like that!”
San gives a little head-tilt, as if to say ‘fair enough’. “I was,” he allows with a tiny smile, bursting with memories. “It… it’s nice when I really need it, I guess.”
His answer churns inside you for a moment, and you mislike the way it settles in your stomach. It’s true; San rarely is submissive unless stress or exhaustion has gotten to him.
“Um, San? Listen, I won’t push anything on you,” you say, carefully, feeling especially cognisant of the fact you have him tied up with nowhere to go. “But… you know you don’t have to need it, right? I’m more than happy to switch things up when you want to. Same for Wooyoung, I’m sure!”
San goes quiet, looking down at his bound wrists like he’s searching for some epiphany in the place where rope presses against his skin.
You smile faintly, and raise a soft hand to cup his cheek. “Just think about it, alright? No wrong answers.”
San’s eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles into your palm. He sighs, something releasing inside him. Letting go of just a tiny scrap of control, maybe.
“Want to take it off now?” you ask, and untie the knot when San nods quietly.
“…I did like the feel of the rope,” San admits after you finish, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “I… I liked how it felt to have someone else put it on me.”
A sweet, gentle bloom swells up inside you. “I’m glad,” you smile back at San. “I liked practising on you.”
“Maybe,” he starts slowly, giving you a bashful look like he’s embarrassed by what he is about to say next, “maybe we don’t need to be done practising? Do you want to try something else?”
Now there’s an offer you can hardly refuse.
San’s suggestion is a little more complex than a simple restriction of the wrists, so you go and grab him some water while he pulls up a few visual references on his phone to show you what the end-goal looks like. When you step back into the bedroom, San has pulled off his t-shirt, waiting for you with a dimpled smile and his bare upper body at your disposal.
There is always something magnetic about San’s impressive physique; but now the musculature draws you in more than ever, knowing you’ll be working so closely to it, demanding your full attention.
“Show-off,” you mumble, rolling your eyes like you aren’t fighting off heat rising to your cheeks.
“What, want me to put my shirt back on?” San asks, his smile curving into a cocky grin.
“…No.”
With the matter of San’s shirt settled, you sink back into the ropework together.
You get why San likes it. The shared intimacy, drawing closer to one another with every hitch or knot. The focused methodology behind it, how the world seems to disappear into nothing but the rope in your hands and the person you use it on, allowing all else to fade from your mind. You’ve always felt there is something meditative about the act of being tied up, but now you realise the reversal is also true.
After all your previous practising, you start to fall into a trained rhythm; you used to get frustrated with your own clumsiness, but now your fingers mostly remember what they are supposed to do.
Still, this new endeavour is a little trickier than a simple cuff around the wrists and so San speaks up more often, guiding you through the steps;
“Careful with placement, we don’t want to pinch anything here. Yes, yes that’s good, Pull the pressure down, we’re always going down the arm. That’s it, you got it. Little tighter. Yep, little more. Don’t be scared the cinch is too much, I’ll tell you if there’s a problem.”
A few simple lines of rope are laid around the width of San’s upper torso, hugging his pecs and providing a basis for you to work a ladder tie down the length of his arm. As you relax into the looping pattern, so does San. He falls quiet again, drawing deep, slow breaths as he intently follows the movement of your hands, his eyes gleaming with cat-like curiosity.
When you finish the first of San’s arms, tying the last hitch above his wrist and locking off the rope, you draw back a little to fully take in the result.
It’s interesting; bondage often has a way of making Wooyoung look smaller than he is, like all his boundless energy is snugly contained within the corded restraints. But for San, it’s the polar opposite.
The shibari accentuates the broadness of his chest and shoulders; his muscles bulge under the looping pattern whenever he moves, like he is bursting at the seams. Heated pressure builds in your abdomen at the sight of him, then your eyes wander down to San’s wrist.
There’s a fair bit of tail end to the rope, dangling down his wrist as leftover after that last hitch — and you’d worried it would take away from the aesthetics of the shibari, but instead the length of rope lures you in, whispering for you to grab the end and pull, tugging San closer to you. To test the power he emits; whether he would submit regardless of physical strength.
“Still got another arm to go,” San reminds you, a teasing glint in his eyes at how distracted you are by his appearance. But his voice is low and husky, your distracted state also causing a sharp heat to coil tightly inside him.
Though you still make sure to be safe and precise, the brush of your fingers over San’s other arm is not as relaxed this time around.
The heat radiating from his skin somehow feels warmer than before, his gaze burning into your hands as you work. San’s breaths grow heavier with every corded loop around his arm, and he is visibly antsy by the time you finish up at his wrist — and now you don’t resist your earlier urges. With a playful grin, you take both ends of the rope in your hands and give them a soft tug, just to tease.
San grunts as you pull him in closer, fiery intensity crackling around him, and the grin is wiped right off your face when he bites his lip, hooded eyes piercing straight through you.
“Fuck,” you breathe, shifting your thighs and all too aware of the wetness gathering between them, “Wooyoung’d go crazy if he saw you right now.”
(You distantly wonder what time it is; how much longer until Wooyoung steps back out that cinema. There’s decent odds he’ll head straight home, knowing you and San are practising without him.)
San’s lips curve sharply. “Yeah? I look hot like this?” he baits.
“Ugh, you are so needy,” you say, but the flustered laugh in your voice belies the reprimand. “Yes, you look good. Wooyoung would fold within the blink of an eye.” (You would fold even faster.) “He better get home soon, he’s gonna be so fucking upset if he misses out on this.”
“Serves him right for being such a damn brat lately,” San huffs, though there is an eager twinkle in his eyes.
“Don’t be like that!” You shake your head with another laugh, then move off the bed and beckon San onto his feet. “Come, see for yourself how hot you look.”
Still holding onto the rope-ends at San’s wrists, you lead him towards the mirror, and San follows with a slow smile. He barely even spares his own reflection a glance, too distracted by your hands, the subtle control emitted by your loose grip on the rope.
His fingers twitch, and then San catches you by surprise by yanking his own hands back, throwing you off balance. You release the rope with a squeak and stumble forward — but before you can bump into San, his hands find your hips and you let out a soft ‘umph’ as he pins you against the wall, the mirror now completely ignored.
“Don’t need to see,” San breathes, his chest pressing up against yours. “Can tell plain as day from your reaction.” Even through your clothes you can feel the press of rope and warmth radiating off of him. It’s like you’re caged in by a wall of heat, his fingers solidly pressing into your waist. San leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as his gaze flutters down to your lips, his head tilting ever so slightly. The intent to kiss is more than obvious, but San waits, leaving that final step to you.
Your head is in a daze, still a little stunned from the sudden switch-up. Then again, it’s not like you didn’t notice how worked up San got from this little experiment — hell, the dampness already soaking through your panties is proof you’ve gotten plenty worked up yourself.
“Yes,” you gasp in answer to his silent question. You can’t remember raising your hand, but suddenly your fingers are tangled into San’s hair and you pull him forward, bridging that tiny gap between your mouths.
He groans lowly, his tongue instantly probing to tease your lips apart into a messy, urgent kiss. You hang onto San for dear life as he kisses you senseless against the wall, every ounce of pent up energy released all at once. He whines into your mouth when you grab onto his ass, at which he roughly grinds into you, guiding you to hook a leg around his waist. The growing hardness of his cock sends sparks through your clothed cunt, and you rut back into him in equal measure, encouraging more whines past his lips.
San’s hands slip underneath your shirt, only breaking the kiss to quickly discard it, and then he is back on you. He is everywhere it feels like, his touch roaming over your heated body, the cords across his arms and torso grazing over your bra and bare skin. You palm at his chest, at the swell of his tits emphasised by the rope you laid there yourself, thumbing at his dark nipples and delighting in the small, desperate noises San makes against your mouth.
“Can you—?” he groans, plying your neck with wet kisses. “Fuck, please— I— I want—”
“S-slow down, Sannie,” you gasp, putting your hands on his waist to steady the roll of his hips. “What is it? Tell me, tell me what you want.”
He whines into your neck, teeth catching against skin, but the desirous fog lifts slightly from San when you cup his cheek and lift him to meet your gaze. He smiles faintly at the eye-contact, fondness melting into his features. His cheeks are flushed — and you are startled to realise it’s not just from arousal. San is self-conscious.
“Want you to tie me up,” he mutters, his eyes breaking away from yours as he presses a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Wanna try it again.”
You blink in surprise, backing away from his lips. “Wait, like tied up tied up? San, are you sure?”
San slowly catches his breath, forcing himself to look you in the eye again. “So fucking sure,” he says, his thumbs drawing slow circles into your waist. “Let’s try it, I trust you. …Besides, it’ll keep us busy until Wooyoung gets back, right?”
“God, you are such a softie,” you laugh breathlessly, amused at how quickly he changed his tune about Wooyoung. “What happened to ‘serves him right’? No conviction whatsoever.”
“Yeah,” he grins, giving a slow roll of his hips. “What are you gonna do about it? Teach me some?”
Fuck. Inviting San to take on a more submissive role had not been entirely selfless on your part — you can’t deny your own excitement over this turn of events — but you had offered it with zero pressure; and definitely no expectation that San might take you up on it the very same evening.
“Hang on, Sannie,” you slow him down again, tempering the heat of the moment. You don’t want him barging face-first into something like this without thinking it through. “You really are sure?”
San’s grin fades into something more serious, giving you the distinct impression he started thinking this through ever since you suggested practising on him back at the grocery store. “Yeah. I’m sure if you’re sure,” he says, looking over you for signs of hesitation on your side.
“Oh, I’m sure!” (In your case, you know for a fact you’ve thought this through ever since that conversation.)
“Good,” he says, cheeks dimpling. “I want this. I want to try this with you.”
The persuasive power of San’s dimples is the final nudge that seals the deal. San brightens with delight when you grab his hand and pull him back to the bed, ushering him to lay down. You have a brief talk about the exact whats and hows; but it’s immediately obvious that you’re on the same wavelength.
(But first you send Wooyoung a vague text, implying it’d be better he doesn’t bring Yeosang over to the apartment for drinks after the movie showing, just in case. He replies quickly, leading you to suspect the movie has already finished, and you answer his 👀 with a short but simple “it’s a secret 🤭”. It’s a lot more civilised than the way you and Wooyoung had clued San in a while back, which San points out with a huff, but you gently shush him and set to work.)
San’s breath shallows as you push him flat down on his back, then spread his arms to tie him to the bedposts. His voice slightly hoarse, San talks you through adjusting the ladder-ties over the length of his arms, making sure they’re still comfortable in the changed position, while he follows your every move with soulful eyes, trying not to fidget.
“Relax,” you murmur after you’re finished, stroking San’s cheek to smooth away his jittery energy. “I got you. Gonna take care of you.”
There is a strange hush in the room as San nods quietly in response, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows in anticipation. “I know. I’m not nervous,” he says, sighing when you softly kiss his forehead. “I’m just a bit… nervous. But not like that, you know? Like—”
“You know what you are? Rambling,” you laugh fondly, and leave another soft kiss on his lips.
He chuckles back at you, his eyes crinkling. “Sorry.”
“Hm-hm,” you hum, shaking your head. “Don’t be. You’re just really cute today.”
The rosy flush across San’s cheeks intensifies, proving your point.
“And also,” you say, straddling San so you can drape yourself over his prone, helpless body, “hot as fuck.”
He groans when you press your lips against his, tongues intertwining messily as you deepen the kiss. You’re both still partially clothed, but you will rectify that later. Just want to take your time easing San into it first.
Shudders run through him at even the lightest touch, your fingers teasing along the lengths of rope across his torso, delighting in how he arches up to chase you. Soon any remnants of San’s tension have melted away, pleasure rippling through him wherever your hands go.
San whines when your mouth breaks away from his, kiss-swollen lips pouting up at you, but the sound turns into ragged gasps when you suck a wet path down the freckles on his neck. You briefly nip at the mole on his collarbone, then trail further downward.
He hisses a quiet curse as your tongue flicks over a pebbled nipple, your hands grazing so lightly over his stomach that he twitches underneath. The distinct definition of his abs has faded, ever since he switched up his gym routine a while back.
Honestly, you like it this way. You like feeling the softness of him underneath your palms, and what it signifies.
San might be one of those rare types who genuinely enjoys a rigorous workout — but he has complained his fair share about the strife of maintaining a sixpack. Now it’s like he has relaxed a little, prioritising his own preferences over any attempts to impress you or Wooyoung. Trusting that he impresses just by being himself, following his own way.
Small sighs and moans are steadily escaping past San’s lips, his hands clenching and releasing uselessly as he itches to reach out and touch you back. Clearly his nervous-not-nerves have settled… which means you can start teasing him.
“Let’s get these off, shall we,” you demand, tugging at the waistband of his sweats.
San eagerly lifts his hips to help you, exposing his his half-hard dick is exposed to your touch. Even after all this time, you bite your lip in appreciation at the sight of him, thick and slightly curved, warm but dry in your palm. You lean down, working your jaw for a thick globule of spit to fix that problem. San groans lowly when your fingers curl around the base of his cock and your tongue darts out, slathering him with slow, messy strokes until he is glistening and hard.
You relish San’s hitched breaths, the tilt of his hips as he arches into you. “Ahh fuck, feels good…” he gasps when you lap at his slit, shifting restlessly at your languid pace. He rocks up against your mouth lavishing his hardening cock, trying to convince you to take him inside — but you are in control today, and you have other plans.
San’s hips jerk when your mouth abandons his cock to press a kiss on his thigh, the moan escaping past his lips loud.
“Hm, n-no c’mon, baby—” he whines, hips bucking up as his eyes squeeze shut, a tear clinging to his lashes.
Your eyes widen at the intensity of his response, sending a searing pulse straight down your abdomen. You run a soothing hand over his leg, but the light touch only makes him antsier, body contorting in a desperate attempt to get you back where he needs you. “Fuck, just look at you…” you say in a quiet hush, your thumb rubbing circles over a trio of moles on his inner thigh. “Still doing okay, Sannie?”
The question sobers him up, but only a little, his eyes still dazed with need. “Y-yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, abashed, like he too is surprised by his own intensity.
“Fuck no, don’t be,” you assure him with a breathy chuckle, rubbing your thighs together restlessly in an attempt to relieve your own tension. “I like seeing you like this. Fucking gorgeous.”
The beautiful flush on his face has crept down his neck and chest, giving him a feverish glow. Muscles ripple underneath the rope harness as he squirms against his bound wrists; all his strength rendered useless, caged underneath you.
San groans at the praise, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut like he can’t withstand the force of your reverent gaze — but it doesn’t help him to escape your touch, gentle fingers also expressing their reverence of him as they wrap around his leaking cock again.
Hunger gnaws at you, craving to ravish San until he can’t take it anymore, until he has nothing left to give, every last ounce of pleasure wrested from his body. The glide of your palm over his thick length is easy now, but you keep a deliberate, unhurried pace to slowly drive San up the wall. His small moans and hiccuped breaths send sparks of heat through you. Arousal joined by awe and gratitude; that San lets you see him, have him, like this.
It’s when a lone tear finally escapes San’s lashes that you can’t stand it anymore, breaking away to haphazardly shuck off your clothes. San watches the uncovering of bare skin in a haze, eyes heavy-lidded and his tongue darting out to wet his lips when you smoothly unclip your bra and throw it aside. His hands flex instinctively as you take a moment to knead at your breasts, reminding him of what he can’t touch.
“Please…” San begs, and his eyes glimmer so sweetly that your resolve to tease him crumbles. There is no denying that soft expression.
San lets out a groan of excitement when you shift forward and lean down. Eagerly he latches onto your chest, suckling and nipping at the soft flesh with noisy enthusiasm, lips smacking wetly as he cranes his neck to smother himself between your breasts. You shudder at his fervour, shakily carding your fingers through his hair in encouragement.
“That’s it, there’s a good boy,” you moan. “Making me feel so good, fuck.” You kiss the top of his head, gasping when he mouths harshly at your nipple, growing rough in his sweet worship. It’s a limited window of opportunity you have given him and San uses it with purpose, devouring as much of you as he can.
You indulge him for a moment longer, indulge yourself, until it is time to remind San who is in charge. He whines when you pull away, trying to follow after the softness of your chest — but the ropes binding him to the bedposts pull taut. San groans in exasperation, like he had forgotten his current predicament entirely, too lost in the pleasure of pleasing you.
“N-no, wanna—” he starts, you put a silencing finger on his lips.
“Behave for me, hm? Can you do that?”
San whines, shifting restlessly underneath you, but he slowly quiets down. “I— I’ll behave,” he says, desperation glittering in his gaze as he looks up at you.
“Good,” you hum, pecking his nose before you rise up and settle back down on his thighs.
Already he looks half-way wrecked, his damp hair mussed up and a sheen of sweat gathered on his skin. His cock is flushed a deep, dark red, resting in a wet patch on his stomach where precum oozes from the tip. Just a light touch of your hand is enough to make San hiss sharply, and the tremors through his body are a clear warning sign of how close he is already. Slowly you push him further, pumping him with firm strokes.
San’s hips jerk up before he can catch himself, his resolve to behave immediately tested. He swears under his breath, pitiful moans spilling past his lips as he manages to regain himself — moans that turn absolutely wretched when he sees how your free hand dips down between your thighs.
You sigh blissfully as you push two fingers inside. They’re sucked in so very easily, your cunt sopping wet without a single touch; to play with San like this is already enough. His breath picks up fast, eyes rolling back at the squelching noises from your hands working in tandem. Every heave of his chest is laboured, his back arching up prettily for you as his moans grow in pitch.
“Fuck, baby, I can’t— M-more, need more,” he whines, futilely tugging at the ropes.
“So greedy,” you say, a slow grin on your lips. “Is my hand not enough for you? You need my cunt too?”
San groans, frustrated and desperate. He’s truly feeling that lack of control by now, unable to reach out and grab your waist. Any other day he would bounce you helplessly on his cock or to flip you over entirely, fucking you so deep and hard you feel him for days after.
But right now? San can’t do any of those things. Instead he’s reduced to a powerless sulk, his thighs twitching underneath you. “Unfair,” he mumbles weakly, his bottom lip sticking out petulantly at your refusal to just give him what he wants.
“Unfair? Are you saying I’m a mean dom?” You gasp in faux-affront, releasing his cock to raise your fingers to your lips, smearing them accidentally-on-purpose with the salty glisten of precum.
He whines at the loss of your hand, trying to buck his hips. “J-just wanna be inside you…”
“Ahh… Well, if that is what you want…” you hum, and languidly slide forward to reposition yourself. San chokes on a moan when you hold onto the base of his cock, find the right angle, and then sink down. You suck in a sharp breath at the sudden pressure on your walls, stretching you open; two of your fingers are not quite enough to properly loosen yourself up for the girth of San’s thick length — but you welcome the burn, savour how your body is forced to adjust itself to San, gradually accommodating to the shape of him inside your cunt.
“F-fuck, so tight, so fucking—” San rasps, his hands clenching into fists so tight the knuckles whiten. He twitches inside you, tension pulled so taut that for a moment you think he’s going to cum on the spot, but somehow San pulls himself back from the brink.
“Good boy,” you purr, bracing one hand on San’s flushed, heaving chest so you can use the other to wipe his sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. “Doing so well for me.”
Your fingers trail down the side of his face and to your surprise, San turns his head to suck them into his mouth. He noisily slurps around them with teary eyes, his pleading look shooting straight down to your stuffed cunt. You swallow hard as San’s tongue laves your fingers in wet heat, a messy trail of spittle trickling down his chin when you pull your hand away.
Glistening with San’s saliva, your fingers slide easily through your folds to find your clit. You sigh in bliss as you leisurely rub at the sensitive nub, drinking how San squirms and gasps with every clench around his throbbing cock. His watery eyes are transfixed by the slippery swirl of your fingerpads, unable to look away.
However, even in his hazy state, San quickly realises you’re not actually moving. “H-hey—”
“Uh-uh,” you hum in warning when his hips buck, lightly pinching his nipple. “No rushing things today, Sannie. Thought you wanted me to keep you busy until Wooyoung gets back.”
San groans as he tries to buck again, but unable to get proper leverage. “Baby, we don’t even know when he’s coming home to us,” he whines.
“True, true,” you admit, though your earlier text probably did plenty to sway Wooyoung towards a quick return. “But there’s an easy way to check that.”
You’re careful not to let San slip out of your wet cunt while you reach for your phone, inspired by your recent shenanigans with Wooyoung. But despite being the one who is in the room with you this time, somehow San plays the part of your victim yet again.
San seems to realise the same thing. “You are a mean dom,” he says, an admonishing look on his flushed face. “You better give Woo a hard time, you owe me that mu—”
“You better stay quiet,” you interrupt him with a grin. “What if Yeosang is still there, hm? Wouldn’t want him to overhear anything… untoward.”
He whines again, pulling against his bindings. “Why am I always the one getting bullied?” he protests, like he never bullies you (and especially Wooyoung) when he’s in charge. “You really enjoy tormenting me that much?”
“What I enjoy, is seeing you pout,” you tease him, truthfully, and unlock your phone to call Wooyoung.
San sighs in exasperation, biting his lip to try and rob you of that beloved pout; but he only manages for a split-second before it’s right back on his face. The endearing sight bubbles warmly in your chest, yet the futility of his protest sparks heat between your thighs. As much as you’re trying to draw this all out, you’re slowly losing the battle to sit still on his cock — and the excitement that crackles through you as you wait for Wooyoung to answer his phone doesn’t help.
Wooyoung picks up, and immediately gets down to business. “What’s the secret?” he demands impatiently.
You giggle at his eagerness, deliberately keeping the call off speaker so San only hears your side of the conversation. “Telling you would kinda defeat the point, wouldn’t it? Where are you?”
There’s barely any background noise, leaving you confused over his current location. Wooyoung wouldn’t have picked up this quick if he was still with Yeosang, but clearly he isn’t out on the streets or riding public transportation either.
Wooyoung chuckles. “Where am I? Hmm… it’s a secret.”
He says it with such an air of mystery that you blink and look over your shoulder, half-expecting to see him standing in the doorway — and immediately feel silly when no one’s there, obviously. You would’ve heard Wooyoung’s voice if he was already in the room with you.
“Funny. Is that a ‘I’m five minutes away’ secret or a ‘go to bed without me, we’ll see each other in the morning’ secret?” you ask, squeezing around San just to be a menace. He visibly strains to keep quiet, face contorted as he bites down a whine.
“Oh, we’ll see each other soon I think,” Wooyoung hums, and you faintly hear what sounds like his footsteps through the phone. “So, spill. What is it? Did you finally get a strap?”
“Fuck.” This time, the squeeze of your walls around San’s is entirely involuntary, and a tiny whimper finds its way past his lips.
“Gonna take that as a ‘no’. Also… speaking of where people are, how about Sannie?” Wooyoung asks. (You wonder if he heard the noise.) “Is this secret a solo endeavour or is he around somewhere?”
“He’s… busy,” you grin. You draw a teasing finger over San’s chest, parallel to the lines of his harness. Another whine spills over as he twitches under your touch, like the press of the rope against his skin has made him even more sensitive than usual.
“Even more secrets. Interesting,” Wooyoung muses to himself; but one particular secret is solved when you distantly hear the front door of the apartment open. He giggles when your breath catches, knowing he gave himself away. “See you soon, alright?” he says, and loudly slams the door shut on purpose.
San jerks at the sound, his eyes widening with realisation. He breaths hard underneath you, his cock giving a violent twitch.
“Over here!” you call out to Wooyoung, and San makes a strangled noise. His tearful eyes gleam with anticipation, excitement — and just a hint of those not-nerves again. “Hey,” you say gently and massage his shoulder in reassurance, drawing his attention back to you. “Wooyoung’s gonna lose his mind, seeing you like this. We’re gonna take such good care of you, of our Sannie.”
San nods, managing a few steadying breaths. “Yeah,” he says softly, his smile almost shy. “All yours.”
It’s then, as warmth glows inside your chest at San’s renewed submission, that Wooyoung opens the bedroom door, looking around in search of your ‘secret’. “Okay, so what’s all the fuss abou—” he starts, but then he lays eyes on San, silenced at once.
All words are stolen from Wooyoung’s tongue, unable to do anything but stare at San’s tied up figure. His mouth has gone slack, eyes unblinking as they take in every inch of rope laid across San’s flushed, sweaty skin, emphasising the wideness of his chest and shoulders, and how it tapers down to his narrow waist — down to where you’re settled in San’s lap, keeping his dick warm.
“See,” you grin at San, lightly rocking your hips into him, “told you he’d like it.”
Even the slight motion is enough to make San whimper and arch, biting at his swollen lips. The stretch around his thick cock is so easy and satisfying now, buried snugly inside your cunt like he was made for you, just to stuff you full. The fevered flush on San’s cheeks deepens as he stares right back at Wooyoung, helplessly waiting for his next move.
“I… I knew you guys talked about practising, I didn’t think… Fuck.”
Wooyoung curses lowly, hands shaky as he shrugs off his jacket and lets it drop onto the floor, leaving him in just a loose-fitting tanktop and trousers. He drinks in the sight of you and San as he shifts onto the bed, darkened eyes briefly lingering on the bite-marks San left on your breasts before Wooyoung’s attention flickers back to San himself.
He brushes his hand over the length of San’s arm, his fingertips catching against the ladder-tie fixed around tensed muscles. “Never seen you like this before,” Wooyoung murmurs in quiet wonderment, wetting his lips. “How is it, Sannie? Is she treating you real nice? Are you having fun?”
“She’s mean,” San pouts, but there is a fond gleam hidden in his eyes as he glances at you. “Wouldn’t let me cum until you got here.”
Wooyoung groans deeply at that, clenching his hand around San’s forearm as though to steady himself. He catches you off guard when he suddenly turns his head to capture you in a hard kiss.
You moan in surprise at Wooyoung’s roughness, his self-control already tattered and hanging on by a single frayed thread. It makes your hips roll against San on pure instinct, drawing a broken whine as he clumsily humps upward to meet your slow grind.
“Fuck, that is real nice of you,” Wooyoung grunts against your lips. “Waiting just for me? Don’t know I could’ve been that patient.”
“You definitely couldn’t have,” you giggle, and reluctantly push him away. “But you don’t have to be patient, not today. Go on, give Sannie a kiss too. Enjoy.”
“Oh I will,” Wooyoung says, his voice raspy with excitement.
San makes a noise, muscles tensing as he yanks uselessly at his bound wrists. He looks nothing short of depraved, hair matted with sweat and eyes glassy, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Delectable, served up to Wooyoung on a platter — and Wooyoung is starved.
Obediently he follows your instruction, descending on San’s mouth in a frenzy.
You sigh in satisfaction as San twitches inside your stuffed cunt, your hand returning to your clit. Even just a light graze of your fingers burns through your core while you revel in the sight in front of you, of San keening pitifully as Wooyoung ravishes him.
Both of them are just as needy and desperate as the other; Wooyoung lost in his aggressive greed, San whimpering as he surrenders himself to it. Your breath hitches at the liberal peeks of tongue as their jaws shift, a sloppy tangle that has San panting, drool spilling over onto his chin. Wooyoung laps it all up before sucking San’s tongue into his mouth, his hands starting to wander.
Wooyoung’s fixation on San’s chest is instantly obvious — and all too understandable. He appreciatively tracks his fingers over the lines of rope, then kneads at the firm pecs trapped between them. His trimmed nails dig into San’s skin ever so slightly, only spurred on when San’s gasps into his mouth, writhing against the dual sensations of his throbbing cock engulfed by your wet heat and Wooyoung’s unbridled attentions.
“What do you think, Wooyoungie? Beautiful like this, isn’t he?” you ask, voice a little shaky, but still allowing yourself a moment of pride in your work.
Wooyoung breaks away from San’s lips, a thin thread of spittle briefly connecting them before it snaps.
“Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it,” he grunts hoarsely. He bends down to suck at San’s tits with the same frenetic fervour he used on San’s mouth; and now San’s unmuffled cries spill freely, every pitched moan searing through your abdomen. San looks on the brink — and honestly, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold off yourself either.
“Fuck, Sannie, I don’t— Fuck—” Wooyoung babbles between sucking marks on San’s chest, just as overwhelmed by the unexpected reversal. “Is— is this okay? W-what can I—?”
You run a soothing hand through Wooyoung’s hair to ground him, massaging the scruff of his neck. “It’s okay, Wooyoungie, just talk to me. What do you want?”
Wooyoung sighs and relaxes at you kneading his tense muscles, taking a few steadying breaths. He then plucks at the rope laid over San’s sternum with a longing glance, playing with how the cord fills the divot between San’s pecs.
“Looks so good like this. K-kinda wish it was me here…” he rasps, stroking his fingers almost in a thrusting motion along the length of rope, “…me fucking these pretty tits.”
You never even get the chance to check in with San, or to consider the logistics of removing this part of the harness without needing to dismantle the entire thing. No, San is way ahead of you on both counts.
“Cut it. Cut away the rope,” he blurts out immediately, jutting his chin at the safety shears lying on the nightstand.
Wooyoung giggles at San’s urgency, reaching for the scissors. “So generous. I’ll buy you some new rope then,” he coos, wiggling two fingers under the cord to lift it up. “Fuck, but aren’t you eager to get used today, all of a sudden. What brought this on, hm?”
The concern behind Wooyoung’s question is subtle, hidden under a thick fog of arousal, but neither you nor San miss it. San lets out a breathy, self-conscious laugh at Wooyoung’s valid assumption that San might be less than alright if he is willing to submit.
“Nothing,” he says, shuddering as the blunt side of the shears brushes over his skin. “Nothing happened. I… I just wanted this.”
His chest puffs up a little, like he’s proud of himself for the admission. (You definitely are.)
“We talked,” you add, toying with the wide strap of Wooyoung’s tanktop, half-distracted by a glimpse of his collarbone, “and San decided he wanted to try something new.”
The tension on the harness loosens as Wooyoung frees up the space for him to use, causing a slight slack to the ladder pattern on San’s arms; but they stay in place. “Hm, so I have you to thank for this little surprise? You talked Sannie into this?”
“Don’t give me too much credit,” you grin, patting San’s side. “Didn’t take much convincing.”
“N-no, you can take a little credit,” San mumbles, almost a little drunkenly as he strains to stay still, slowly looking back-and-forth between you and Wooyoung.
Something passes over Wooyoung’s face as the sharp heat in his gaze momentarily softens. He turns to you and brushes his knuckles over your cheek, then presses a deceptively chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,” he says quietly, before a teasing glint returns to his eyes. “I’ll make good use of it.”
“You better, yeah,” you tease, ignoring how Wooyoung’s sudden moment of softness threatens to throw you off balance. “Sannie was real excited for you to join us.”
Wooyoung hums in acknowledgement, discarding the remainder of his clothes. As he does so, he intently eyes the rise and fall of San’s chest at first, but then his eyes wander back between your thighs, where San’s dick disappears inside your sopping cunt.
“Can I?” Wooyoung asks, but doesn’t wait for answer before he runs two fingers through your drenched folds, holding the digits in a v-shape to press around the base of San’s cock. He grins at the way you and San both jerk at his touch, drinking in every moan as he leisurely swipes at your slick.
“F-fuck, Wooyoungie—” you whine, your hand clamping around his shoulder.
His eyes widen when he realises just how close you are, lips spreading into a filthy grin. “Yeah? Gonna give me a little more? Give me enough to lube up Sannie’s fat tits?” he rasps, stroking his fingers with more purpose. “C’mon baby, get it real nice and sloppy for me.”
You hiss another curse, your hips picking up speed when Wooyoung’s thumb finds your clit, right as he lazily mouths at your neck. You’re losing yourself in a clouded frenzy, wantonly gyrating against Wooyoung’s fingers and San’s cock; no longer satisfied with San just filling up your cunt, but finally using him to fuck yourself in earnest.
You’ve held back for so long, but now pure desperation hits you all at once. You have to cum, to find a release to the pressure that’s been building all night from the very moment you and San started your innocuous ‘practice’ session, like neither of you had been fantasising about this very scenario. Your breathless moans mingle with San’s choked gasp as your reckless chase for relief inadvertently sends sends him down a delirious spiral.
San’s head falls back against the pillow as he cries out, struggling against the ropes and bucking clumsily up into your cunt, sliding against Wooyoung’s fingers. Tears mingle with sweat on San’s cheeks, his whines catching in his throat when you clench around him tighter than ever before.
You can’t help it, not when Wooyoung bites and sucks at your neck, every nerve ending in your body going haywire as his thumb never lets up on your clit no matter how you twist and squirm.
“P-please,” San gasps, trembling helplessly. “Please, I- I—”
“What is it, Sannie? Too much? Not enough?” Wooyoung grins when San whimpers at the latter question, bucking his hips again. “So greedy. How about you, baby?” he asks you, licking his lips. “Want more too?”
You groan when Wooyoung stops moving his fingers, instinctively burrowing a hand in his hair, tuggin impatiently at the long dark strands. “Fuck, don’t stop now, close, so close, Woo,” you babble mindlessly. “Yes yes want more, fuck—!”
Your throat closes up with a high-pitched keen when Wooyoung does exactly what you asked for; giving you more.
Just like that, his index finger slides into your cunt, snugly pressed between your walls and San’s cock. You mewl at the added stretch, a not completely unfamiliar burn but still overwhelming as you rush towards the precipice at break-neck speed. Your vision whites out as you convulse, struggling to stay upright as electrified pleasure surges through you in waves. It’s not until the first wave passes that you realise Wooyoung has worked a second finger in there, snapping his wrist and dragging San right down with you.
“Feels good, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks, grinning as your slick gushes over his fingers. “Is that what you wanted? Me next to you in that tight pussy, fucking our good girl together?”
San sobs brokenly, beautifully, powerless as he becomes undone underneath you, painting your fluttering walls with thick, heavy spurts of hot seed. His bottom lip is raw from his teeth, but still he bites down another whimper when your cunt clamps so tightly from an intense aftershock that you can’t help but push him out no matter how you try to keep him inside.
Wooyoung groans in delight at the view of San’s cum leaking out of your weeping hole, right on his fingers. He gathers as much as he can while you slump off on the side, trying and failing to catch your breath.
“Yeah, I think this will do just fine,” he chuckles darkly, and smears his slicked-up fingers between San’s pecs. He even works up some saliva to crudely spit onto San’s glistening skin, all shiny and slippery.
Antsy from waiting, Wooyoung straddles San and roughly grabs two handfuls of his tits to press together, creating a nice crevice for Wooyoung to fuck into. You kneel next to San, giving yourself a perfect view of what’s about to happen. One of your hands trails back between your legs, while the other rests on San’s thigh to ground him, your nails gently grazing over the sensitive muscle.
San whines, arching his back to meet Wooyoung’s flushed cock, its darkened tip leaking precum already. It only adds to the easy slide; an obscene mixture of fluids pooling in the shallow valley between San’s firm, pillowy pecs, causing a wet smacking sound with every snap of Wooyoung’s hips.
“Oh fuck, that feels good,” Wooyoung groans, his eyes fluttering shut. He sinks into the rhythm, soaking up the lewd squelches and San’s soft moans.
Your fingers slowly circle around your swollen, tender clit while you watch in a daze how Wooyoung’s dick slides between San’s cleavage with fluid strokes. Wooyoung draws deep, raspy breaths as he tries to stop himself from unravelling too fast, desperate to savour this moment. San’s chest heaves against the weight of Wooyoung’s cock, sweat dripping down his forehead and tongue lolling out of his mouth.
San whimpers when you reach behind Wooyoung to wrap a hand around his softening cock. The touch is gentle at first, almost absentminded while you watch them intently, but your hand gradually picks up speed as San’s moans get louder, needier. Pleasure buzzes through your worn-out body while San’s dick plumps back up in your palm.
San is totally gone at this point, using his last shreds of cognition to crane his neck, trying to catch his tongue against the tip of Wooyoung’s cock with every thrust. Wooyoung lets out a strained giggle of delight at San’s mindless instinct to please, and he pushes forward with deeper strokes to give San a taste of salty precum, mingled with the other bodily fluids gathered on San’s chest.
Wooyoung readjusts his grip so he can thumb at San’s nipples, grinning fiendishly when San whines loudly, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. “So you enjoy this sort of thing, huh?” Wooyoung teases, grunting between thrusts as his pace picks up. The air is filled with the heady, lewd squelch of his cock pushing air between San’s cleavage. “Didn’t expect to ever see you tied up like this. Do you like it, Sannie? Us having our way with you, and nothing you can do about it. Just have to lie there and take it.”
“Y-yeah,” San hiccups, struggling for words while your fist twists around his cockhead with every pass of your hand over his length. “F-fuck, I do, I like it Youngie…”
San’s meek submission flares through your aching cunt — and for Wooyoung, it proves too much to handle. His voice cracks as he doubles over with high-pitched gasps, hips stuttering as he spills on San’s chest, some splatters reaching up to his neck and face.
Wooyoung barely gives himself a chance to catch his breath before he’s bent over San, his tongue laving over the sticky mess on San’s defiled chest.
San lets out a weak moan at Wooyoung’s greedy, suckling mouth, his own tongue darting out to catch a drop of cum on the corner of his lips. It’s decadent, filthy, and you’re drawn closer into their orbit of debauchery with every wet smack of Wooyoung’s mouth, every moan wrested from San’s lips.
Finally you can’t stand it anymore, abandoning your clit to lay on your side. Half-draped over San, you suck at the splatters of cum covering his freckled neck, pumping his cock quicker. The motion catches Wooyoung’s attention and he glances up at your hand around San’s dick, his dark eyes clouded over, mouth and chin shiny with fluids.
“F-fuck, please I can’t—” San whines, trembling uncontrollably. “Baby, I-I’m gonna—”
“Give it to me,” Wooyoung cuts through San’s babbling, his voice hoarse. He rests his cheek on San’s saliva-glistening chest, tongue resting on his bottom lip in invitation.
San’s moans go up in pitch, fighting for breath as you twist and squeeze at his cock with confident familiarity, knowing exactly what he needs to fall apart. He does just so, whining, spilling his load messily over Wooyoung’s face; not as much as the first time, but enough to paint Wooyoung’s tongue white, even with the stray splatters that get on his face and in his hair.
Wooyoung closes his lips with a mischievous grin, but he does not swallow. Instead he turns to you with a dark look, half-crawling over San to grab at the soft meat of your thigh.
Impatiently he pushes you onto your back and spreads your legs, then latches onto you. You cry out, yanking at Wooyoung’s hair as he crudely tongue-fucks your cunt, pushing San’s cum inside you. His fingers dig into your hips, encouraging you to grind freely against his face.
Already close from earlier, it does not take much for the orgasm lurking in the shadows to coil around you with hot tendrils, tightly until finally the pressure snaps. You spasm and mewl, desperately grabbing onto San’s arm as you clamp around Wooyoung’s tongue with a throttled moan.
Wooyoung makes a pleased noise, nudging his nose against your clit while you ride it out; chasing every spark jolting through your core. Weakly you run a hand through Wooyoung’s hair, holding him close as he gently sucks at your folds, drawing out the aftermath until finally you slump down.
As your hold on him loosens, Wooyoung presses a final, tender kiss on your soft thigh. Slowly he withdraws, then sits up and to face San, who lays on the bed worn-out and wrecked in all the best ways.
“That was… different,” Wooyoung says with a faint grin, cupping San’s puffy cheeks to brush away a few lingering tears with his thumbs. “You okay, Sannie? Fuck, you did amazing.”
San answers with a soft hum, tiredly grinning back at Wooyoung. “Different, yeah. Good different. I’m good,” he sighs, glancing at you with a tender gleam in his eyes.
You fondly run a hand through his hair. “I’m glad,” you say in a quiet hush, feeling an odd relief at San’s words. Like a preemptive strike at any uncertainties that could have nagged at you later.
Carefully, you undo the knot around one of his wrists and Wooyoung takes your cue, reaching for San’s other arm. Together you release him from the bindings and the remainder of the cut harness. San is content to just let it happen, to let your care wash over him as you check him for abrasions and massage any stiffness out of his arms.
“How about you?” Wooyoung asks you, squeezing at your waist while San munches on an energy bar. “You okay?”
His concern seeps warmly through the exhaustion that’s settling in your bones. “Hm. Tired,” you mumble, though you manage a smile. It’s not bad, just more than you expected.
San immediately stretches his arms out to you. “Cuddle,” he pouts bossily; a mutually beneficial demand.
You give into his demand without second thought, happy to snuggle up against his chest (which is no longer stained with bodily fluids after Wooyoung cleaned him with some wet-wipes).
“Better?” San asks, rubbing his nose into your hair.
You giggle at the way San can’t help but take charge again, even if it’s just during the aftercare. “Yeah,” you sigh contently, and give Wooyoung a thankful look when he drapes a blanket over you before joining the cuddle himself.
You drift into a cosy bubble of entangled bodies and lazy chatter, a fuzzy warmth settling in, like you could doze off into sleep any moment. You're tempted to let it take you, to at least get a little nap in before you return to the comfort of your own bed — and really, you can find no reason not to.
Wrapped up in the safety of San and Wooyoung, you let your eyes flutter shut for a while, accompanied by their hushed voices and laughs.
Their voices are still there when you wake again later, along with two hands softly grazing over your arm and waist. You join their talk for a while, sleep-drunk from the nap, but then decide to go sleep for real before your brain wakes up too much. San gives you another pout as you untangle from his hold, while Wooyoung jokingly suggests they come with you, but both are placated when you promise to join them for breakfast tomorrow.
You stick by your promises, padding over to San and Wooyoung’s the next morning in slippers and a comfy bathrobe. It’s just one door away but you still can’t help thinking back on yesterday’s conversation; no longer having to shuffle through the apartment building’s hallway would definitely be an added benefit to a shared home.
Wooyoung is meandering in the kitchen by himself when you come in, no San in sight. You rub your eyes groggily as you look around for him, while joining Wooyoung by the stove. You give him a half back-hug, peeking over his shoulder to identify the origin of tasty smells drifting through their apartment. (Kimchi pancakes and egg dumplings, as it turns out.)
“Hmm, has San left already?” you mumble against Wooyoung’s shoulder. You’ had hoped to see San before work, just to ease that tiny twinge of protectiveness in your chest, to confirm he still felt good after yesterday. “Did he have a good sleep?”
Wooyoung opens his mouth — but before he can get a sound out, you hear the muted sound of the shower turning on from the bathroom.
“He’s here,” Wooyoung says with a sleepy grin, flipping over the pancake effortlessly. He’s wearing an apron, his hair is messily tied up into a half-bun, face slightly puffy from sleep. It’s utterly endearing. He looks away from the pan to glance at you, chuckling when he realises what your question was really about. “San’s doing great,” he assures you. “Way too chipper for this early in the morning, honestly.”
“Good, good,” you hum absentmindedly, nuzzling into Wooyoung’s shoulder. “And you? How are you doing? After last night?”
He blinks in surprise at the question. “Yeah? Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”
You raise an eyebrow, unsatisfied with his vague answer. “…Yeah? We didn’t ambush you too much with the whole thing?”
“Oh, no no!” He quickly shakes his head, but then slows down and sinks into a pensive expression. “Well… No, not an ambush.”
“…But?” you ask, starting to feel uneasy.
Wooyoung chuckles, pinching your cheek. “Hey — don’t stress out, okay? Last night was fucking amazing. I only—”
He sighs and awkwardly rubs the back of his head, before seeming to come to a decision. He slides the crispy pancake onto a preheated plate before turning down the stove, taking a break from cooking. He turns around to lean back against the counter, giving you and the conversation his full attention. You lean next to him, gently bumping your shoulders together.
“In the heat of the moment? No problems. But afterwards, I… I started feeling a little jealous,” Wooyoung says, his face scrunching up as he painstakingly works the admission past his lips. “That you got to tie San up. That he let you tie him up. Not that I ever bothered to ask but…” Wooyoung shrugs, like he’s trying to minimise the emotions behind his words. “…But I never got the feeling San would’ve tried that with just me.
“And I mean, there’s a reason I never asked; it’s not like this is some big secret fantasy I’ve been dying to play out so the whole thing is just stupid to get jealous over, but… yeah. That.”
His ramble trails off awkwardly, but you listened intently to every word, despite struggling a little to take it all in. You did just wake up after all, still shaking off sleep’s lingering hold on your brain. “Wooyoung… It’s not stupid. Not at all,” you say, your hand finding his.
“Sorry,” Wooyoung says with a wry smile, “didn’t mean to dump all that on you before I even got some food in your stomach.”
“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand. “Did you talk to San about this?”
“Oh yeah, Sannie got the late night edition,” Wooyoung chuckles faintly. “But— but the thing is; it was also… nice? Does that even make sense? Like, I loved seeing you two like that together.”
Your brow softens, a pop of warmth bursting in your chest. “You did?”
Wooyoung nods, struggling to meet your eyes. “Yeah. Loved it. I—”
He hesitates again, and you have a sudden suspicion of what sentence he’s hiding behind his lips.
“I love how you took care of him, I love that he let you. Even if it felt complicated. You and San are different than me and San, but… that’s okay, you know? You and me are different too, and I love how we are together,” Wooyoung says, his waterfall of words inching closer and closer to the exact phrasing he is trying to reach.
You swallow thickly, realising what is about to come… and hold tighter onto Wooyoung’s hand, quietly encouraging him.
He glances up tentatively, finally meeting your eyes again — and relaxes into a smile at what he finds there. “Listen,” he continues, a little more confident, “it’s not like I’m interested in what adjective goes before the word. Romantic, platonic, whatever. Who cares. But— but I do love you.”
Wooyoung takes a deep breath, exhaling with audible relief.
“And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, searching your face for any signs of it, “but I also don’t want to lie about this stuff. So… is this okay? Is it okay if I say that? You don’t have to say anything back,” Wooyoung rushes to add. “I know you might not feel the same way. But I’m good with that. I’m good with you liking me in your own way.”
There’s a stubborn lump in your throat that refuses to go away.
You did think those words would make you uncomfortable. You were convinced they would, given your past experiences. You just thought that for Wooyoung, you could sit with that discomfort and let it pass through you. At least this once. But there is no discomfort itching under your skin, no distress pounding in your chest.
Only warmth.
Down to the very core of your being, you know there are no ultimatums hidden behind Wooyoung’s confession. No threat to end things if your response does not meet his expectations, if what you can give him in return isn’t enough. Whatever you’ll say, he has already decided that it is. That you are enough. Just as you are.
“Well… I did tell you to stop assuming I’ll bolt at the tiniest hint of commitment,” you tease, though your voice is a little thick. (Somewhere in the background, you vaguely register that the shower in the bathroom has turned off.)
“You did, yeah,” Wooyoung giggles, lightly elbowing you in the side. His shoulders look much lighter now. “No take backsies.”
You shake your head. “Wasn’t planning on it. Yeah,” you hum. “Yeah, it’s okay if you say that. More than okay. I… I’m happy.”
Wooyoung’s eyes scrunch up as his smile widens. The force of it is breathtaking.
“Is— is this something recent? You haven’t been stressing out about this talk, have you?” you ask, fidgeting a little. You hate the idea that he might’ve been sitting with this for who knows how long.
Wooyoung scoffs a laugh. “What? No way. You know me, right? Bottling up feelings is not my style. I leave that up to you and Sannie.”
You snort at the lighthearted dig, whapping Wooyoung on the arm. “Hey, that’s slander! Blatant character assassination! Who is the one who brought up moving in together?”
“Okay fine, fine, I’ll let you have that one,” he sighs dramatically. “But you gotta admit I’m the load-bearing pillar in this trio. It’s a fate I’ve accepted long ago.”
His dramatics make you laugh, but honestly? There is truth in it. Wooyoung has always been the most pro-active between the three of you, the most forthright about his wants and needs. Hell, Wooyoung might’ve been jealous, but without him, you and San probably wouldn’t have gotten to a place for him to be jealous of.
You’ve always liked San, ever since he moved in next to you, but it was Wooyoung who forcibly dragged you two closer into each others’ orbit. With no Wooyoung, you’d have lived complacently as neighbours, your friendship superficial, until one of you moved out again, never to see each other again. Never sticking your head out to explore what else there could be between you.
The morning hush settles back into the kitchen as you lean against Wooyoung, loosely wrapping your arms around his. “Thank you,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll try to carry my weight more often.”
Wooyoung blinks, a little surprised at your sincere reaction to his joke, but then he softens into a smile and leans back into you. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs back. “But don’t go carrying too much, alright? Can’t have me becoming redundant.”
“Pff, never. Idiot.”
That’s how San walks in to find you and Wooyoung, just living in a moment of quiet. His hair is still damp from the shower, a towel around his shoulders to catch the last few drops clinging to wet tendrils.
San’s eyes lightens up when he sees you’re here, quickly walking over joining you. He briefly raises an eyebrow when he notes the one singular pancake that’s getting cold, but decides to ignore it, leaning against the kitchen counter next to Wooyoung instead. He drapes an arm over Wooyoung’s shoulder, his warm hand coming to rest high between your shoulder-blades.
“So,” San says, a cute little smile tugging on his lips as he looks at Wooyoung. “You talked to her? Said what you wanted to say?”
Wooyoung grins back at him. “Yeah. We talked.”
“Good,” San says softly, his fingers trailing up to knead the nape of your neck. “That’s really good.”
Wooyoung lets out a loud sigh, shaking his head. “You know what isn’t good?” he says, looking from you to San. “That we’re all standing around here getting hungry. C’mon, get off me, let me get to it. Someone has to keep you two fed.”
He abruptly shakes himself loose and turns back to his pancake better, causing you and San to make noises of surprise — but then you grin mischievously at the sight of him diligently making breakfast for three. “See? That’s why you’ll never be redundant. Indispensable, that’s what you are.”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Helpless without me, that’s what you are,” he shoots back, but the the corners of his mouth are fighting a losing battle against the wide, shy smile creeping up his lips.
You catch San’s eye while Wooyoung continues his cooking, suddenly feeling oddly shy. “You had a good sleep?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, struck by the same shyness. “Really good.”
A faint heat creeps under your skin as you reminisce on last night’s events; the trust San showed in you, the sight of him tied up on the bed, helpless while you and Wooyoung ravished him, how noisy he’d gotten—
Oh. Noise.
A whole other sort of heat flushes through you when a different memory of yesterday floods through your system. “D-do you think we ought to send Mrs Yoon flowers or something?” you say, grimacing at San. “Fruit basket? Chocolates?”
San’s drowsy smile is knocked right off his face as he freezes, cheeks going crimson with embarrassment. “Oh god,” he groans, hiding his face behind his hand. “Y-yeah. Maybe we should.”
Wooyoung takes his attention off the pan, blinking at you and San in confusion. “Hm? Mrs Yoon? What about her?” he says, blissfully oblivious. “Is she sick? I can get her some flowers from work, sure. Do we need to write her a card too?”
okay but seriously, i LOVE this story. it is just so beautifully written from top to bottom. the dialogue, the characters, the smut (honestly some of the best i’ve ever read. each chapter just blows me away more and more and this one was just 🥵), and the relationship between all three of them??? i loved how wooyoung touched on the fact that while the three of them are all in this together, they all still have their own different ways of being together in their own little units so to speak (woo x san, san x reader, woo x reader) but it still all just works for them because there is trust, and respect, and LOVE there. when wooyoung said ‘i love you’ my heart felt like the grinch’s did when it broke that measuring device. i kinda always had a feeling he would be the first one to say it out loud to reader, but i was just losing my mind when it actually happened. and he was so cute and respectful with it saying he didn’t expect it to be said back, but words aren’t always needed, and it’s obvious reader loves them too in their own way. i just ahhhhhhhhhhh. thank you for the update and sharing your work here with us. can’t wait to see what happens next 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
ch. summary: San goes on a little journey of self-discovery with you.
wc: 14k
ch. warnings: sub San, switch / dom reader & Wooyoung, like 5 sec of manhandling & dryhumping, shibari / bondage, praise kink, body worship, cock-warming, orgasm denial, finger sucking, oral, dacryphilia, DVP (fingers & cock), creampie, cum play, Wooyoung fucks San’s tiddies, cum shot (on those same tiddies), multiple orgasms, condomless sex w/ an IUD, San is called ‘good boy’, reader is called ‘baby’ & ‘good girl’, one encounter of amatonormativity from a well-intentioned neighbour, potential second-hand embarrassment
a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.
“Pick me, I’m tasty!” the little raccoon dog mascot on the instant noodles package says to you, in an adorably pitchy sing-song voice. San pokes his face out from behind the package, his open-mouthed smile so wide and bright he almost looks like a cartoon character himself.
You giggle at San’s antics, though you ignore the packet in his hands and reach for a different flavour from the store’s shelves. “Cute! But no; Wooyoung asked for this one,” you say, holding up the extra spicy variant.
“That’s what Wooyoung asked for, yes,” San pouts, reverting back to his normal voice, “but he always steals mine and leaves the hot ones for me. He can buy them himself if he wants them, I’m not doing this anymore! My mouth has burned enough.”
“Fine fine, this is a lovers’ quarrel I’m not getting involved in,” you laugh at San’s impassioned speech. “If he complains, I’m telling him it’s your fault!”
And so only the mildest of instant noodles end up in your cart before you go through the rest of the store. The separation between your groceries and those of San and Wooyoung grows blurrier with every trip; Wooyoung didn’t even ask if you were joining them for dinner, only how you felt about beef bibimbap for tonight.
It’s busy at the store today, meaning there’s a bit of a line for the cash registry. Bored by the wait, San toys with the strings of his hoodie. He fiddles with them for a while, then pulls the strings taut until the hoodie hides all but a glimpse of his face, his nose peeking out along with a tiny feline grin on his lips.
At first you just fondly watched him — but now you can’t resist temptation. You steal the strings away from San to tie them into a tight knot, trapping him in his hoodie.
“Ack!” San yelps, startled and pawing at your hands to get back control of the strings.
Giggling, you take mercy on him and undo the knot again. “Sorry, guess I’m in the mood to practice a little more ropework today,” you joke, taking off San’s hood and fixing a few upright tufts of his hair.
“Oh, are you now?” he says, his indignant sulk only tempting you to do it again. “Starting to regret I taught you anything at all. You have way too much power now.”
“The power of tying a simple knot?!” you laugh. “Don’t take too much credit, mister, I didn’t need you to teach me that one!”
But San has been teaching you. Eagerly, even.
From the moment you expressed an interest, San happily jumped on the chance to pass on his knowledge of bondage. He does teach for a living, after all; and though ropework is obviously a far cry from taekwondo, he instructed you with the same enthusiasm that he has for his students.
Meanwhile, Wooyoung happily volunteered himself as a practice subject. Sometimes he’d nag at you, so used to San’s skilful fingers that yours set off his impatience — but for the most part, Wooyoung proved unexpectedly useful, his candid feedback making it easier to get a feel for judging rope tension.
And although you’d first meant it as a joke to tease San, now you do actually feel an itch in your fingers.“So… could we? Practise some more today?” you ask, lowering your voice, keeping your words vague on purpose, although none of the staff or other customers are paying you any mind.
“Today?” San says, lines crinkling between his brows. “Ah, I don’t know, Wooyoung will be out to the movies with Yeosang later…”
“He’s going without you?” you ask, distracted by the new piece of information. “What, have you been hoarding Sangie too much to yourself again?”
San’s bottom lip juts into a pout. “I don’t hoard him, I’m just not into the movie!” he protests, so earnestly that you wonder if he really believes it, or if he’s forgotten about the time you saw him clinging onto Wooyoung’s childhood friend for an entire game night, stubborn in his attempts to lay a smooch on Yeosang’s cheek.
(Yeosang’s dramatic aversion to his friends’ kisses always gets a giggle out of you. He can’t fool you; you know from experience that San and Wooyoung would cut it out if he really minded it that much.)
“Though I guess we don’t need Woo,” San muses, smoothly turning the subject away from the Yeosang-hoarding allegations. “You could try some stuff on yourself, feel first-hand what you’re doing.”
“…Or I could practice on you…?” you suggest, half playful, half probing.
San blinks in surprise, like the thought had not occurred to him — but the conversation is put on a temporary halt when it’s your turn to check out your groceries. He frowns while packing everything up, thoughtful but also tentative, like it’s the first time he’s ever even considered to let someone tie him up.
San’s frown has faded by the time you step out of the store, but he still has a quiet, contemplative look on his face.
“No pressure, obviously,” you say, nudging his arm with your elbow. “About the practice thing. It was just a thought.”
“No no! It’s…” San shakes his head and gives you a small grin. “You know what? Let’s try it. Put your knowledge to the test!”
“Right,” you grin back at him, a little spring in your step as you walk back home together. There’s a gleam in San’s eyes too, growing brighter as he gets more and more used to the idea of trying something new with you.
It’s just a short walk back to the apartment building, where you come across your downstairs neighbour at the elevator; Mrs Yoon, a tiny old lady carrying a package that looks far too big and heavy for her.
San, ever the gentleman, immediately passes one of his grocery bags over to you and takes the box from Mrs Yoon.
“Always such a nice, helpful boy,” she coos over San, tip-toeing to reach and pinch his cheek. Mrs Yoon somewhat resembles a shrivelled apple, small and round and wrinkled — but any conversation proves that she’s still got plenty of juice left in her.
“Does he take such good care of you too?” she asks you, a playful glint in her eyes. “I’m sure he does, I can tell he’s great… ‘Boyfriend material’, that’s the word you young folk use nowadays, isn’t it?”
You flinch briefly, but recover fast. It’s not like this is the first time people have made assumptions about you and San, or you and Wooyoung. Hell, you and Hongjoong used to deal with this too. Through necessity you have cultivated a certain degree of resigned patience for these situations.
Still, it was long enough that San beats you to the punch, shaking his head at Mrs Yoon with a friendly smile. “No, Mrs Yoon, I’m—” he starts, but hesitates when a clear alternative fails to present itself.
It doesn’t matter anyway; she easily breezes past San’s protest. “And the other handsome young man, of course! I had not forgotten, don’t worry,” she says with a cheeky grin of joyful wrinkles, her giggle like a reedy cackle. “I heard the three of you spending your time together well.”
San’s cheeks go completely beet red, for a split-second you’re confused by his embarrassment — but then it sinks in what Mrs Yoon meant by having ‘heard’ you.
She heard you, just like you used to hear San and Wooyoung.
You stammer an apology, but she waves it off. “Oh hush,” she says firmly. “I was young once too, I know what it’s like. Good on you kids, you need to enjoy it while you can! It’s alright to have a little extra fun.”
The elevator dings as it reaches Mrs Yoon’s floor, and San almost trips over his feet as he walks her to her apartment to take the heavy package inside. You awkwardly wait for him to get back, embarrassment still flowing hotly in your veins. San does not look much better off when he shuffles back into the elevator, wordlessly taking back the grocery bag he passed over to you earlier so he could help your old, lively neighbour.
He clears his throat, trying for an easygoing grin. “For the record, I have been informed that Mrs Yoon very much enjoys the silence when she turns her hearing aid off, and doesn’t mind doing so at all.”
“Oh god,” you groan, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in your hands — except maybe sink through the elevator floor, letting yourself plummet straight to the bottom and down into the very core of the earth.
“At least she’s cool about non-monogamy?” San tries for a crooked smile, though redness still blooms across his cheeks. “Though I guess she only has half the right idea of us.”
“Yeah, I guess…” you say, still mulling on San’s earlier moment of speechlessness.
San frowns, concern gleaming in his eyes at your timid response. “You okay?” he asks; San is not unbothered by assumptions about the three of you either, but he knows they hit a little differently for you.
“Oh, yeah, yes I’m okay,” you say, though you can tell he’s not exactly convinced. “It just kinda hit me that I don’t know what the ‘right’ idea about us is. Or how to put it into words, at least. We never really bothered to define much, did we?”
“No, we didn’t,” he says, opening the door to his apartment. “…I thought you preferred it that way? Not trying too hard to fit ourselves into a label?”
“True, true,” you admit, stepping inside. (You faintly hear Wooyoung’s voice from the living area.) “And I still don’t want to force anything. It’s just… inconvenient sometimes, you know.”
How would you describe San and Wooyoung? Your friends? Well, yes, but you don’t feel like that covers the full scope of things in this context. Partners? Too… formal. Definitely not your boyfriends. No matter what word pops up in your head, it chafes; nothing fits as smoothly as a simple ‘your San’ and ‘your Wooyoung’.
San glances over his shoulder as he hauls the grocery bags into the living area, raising an eyebrow at you. “Inconvenient for us, or inconvenient for other people?” he asks pointedly. “If we’re happy with how we do things, or what we call them, it’s not our problem if others get confused.”
You blink at San. “…Damn. Good point.”
“I make those sometimes!”
“Of course, some people try their damn best to turn it into our problem.”
“Shush. Don’t take this away from me,” San chides, but he quiets when he realises Wooyoung is talking to someone on video call. Wooyoung gives you a distracted wave, but stays focused on his conversation. Something about his most recent crafts project, customising an old jacket.
“Yeah, I saw the pictures, it looks good, I like how you placed the lettering,” the voice from Wooyoung’s phone says — and you break out into a smile when you recognise that voice, all else forgotten.
“Joong!” you say, wrapping a loose arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders as you slide up behind him, stoked to see your oldest friend on the screen. He’s currently rocking cranberry red hair, matched with a grungy blazer, and grins when he sees you.
You embrace this chance for a brief but lively surprise meeting, always missing Hongjoong; even if he did come over for a visit just a few weeks ago.
During that time, he and Wooyoung rapidly developed the type of friendship where you’re not always sure if Hongjoong adores Wooyoung to absolute bits, or if he wants to stick him behind the wallpaper. (Though today clearly is an adoration day.) San is still a little quiet around Hongjoong, anxious for approval from your best friend, so he shyly hangs around in the back while you and Wooyoung chat/bicker with Hongjoong.
It’s not too long before the call ends, some work schedule thing forcing Hongjoong to leave. Work has kept him real busy lately, and you quietly resolve to send him a little care package this week.
Once Hongjoong disappears from his phone’s screen, Wooyoung turns to you.
“What was that talk earlier when you guys came back? Sounded kinda serious. Were you overthinking again?”
“I wasn’t overthi—! …Okay, yeah fine maybe I was,” you admit.
“About what?”
“Labels,” San pipes up from the kitchenette. “Hey, you gonna help me out here?”
“Sorry, yeah!” You join San to properly finish up the chore of grocery shopping together, and smile when you find one packet of spicy noodles between the milder ones as you put them away.
Wooyoung’s face wrinkles up. “You were overthinking labels? I thought you were on my side about those.”
(Like you, Wooyoung also does not feel a strong need to confine your relationship within strict definitions. San is the most traditional-minded out of your trio when it comes to these things; but he values happiness over conformity a million times over, content to let the issue rest for your and Wooyoung’s comfort.)
“I am, I am!” you say. “Mrs Yoon just punted me into a five-second long spiral when she pretty much called San my boyfriend and we didn’t know how to correct her. I’ve unspiralled already, I swear! Crisis over before it even started.”
“No, fair enough,” Wooyoung allows. “‘My non-romantic life partner who I fuck on the regular’ just doesn’t roll off the tongue, does it?”
“Nope. But…” You trail off, recognising an opportunity to smoothly slide into a topic that crossed your mind recently. “‘My neighbour’ is also technically correct, I suppose,” you say cheekily, smiling when San instantly grouses at the distant, casual term, “but who’s to say we’ll be neighbours forever? I mean, it’d be cool to at least upgrade to ‘roommates’ someday, right?”
For a split moment, the guys are struck silent by the suggestion. Not that long ago, it would’ve been enough to punt you into another five-second spiral, fretting whether you massively misjudged the situation — but it’s not enough anymore. You’re steadier than that by now, secure in your place within this barely-defined relationship.
And surely a gradual smile breaks out on Wooyoung’s face like in slow-motion, his eyes shining in delight. You let out an ‘umph’ when two strong arms suddenly wrap around you from behind, San’s reassuring weight settling against you.
“Yeah. That’d be cool,” San murmurs as he pulls you firmly into him, pressing his cheek against the side of your head.
“Hadn’t expected you to be the one to bring that up,” Wooyoung says, his teasing grin undermined by the softness drawn into his face.
You lean back into San with a little scoff, rolling your eyes half-playfully, half-serious. “Hey c’mon, stop acting like I’ll bolt at the tiniest whiff of commitment! I’ve proven enough by now that you guys are stuck with me, right?”
“Okay okay,” San says with a laugh, “we’ll try to stop treating you like a flight risk! It’s just— Me and Woo talked about this like, a few days ago.”
“Pff, ‘talked’?” Wooyoung huffs, coming over to put an arm around San, who still has his arms around you. “What San means is he picked a fight with me about it.”
“A fight?!” You turn your head to look back at them, blinking in confusion.
“A real stupid one too!”
“Hey, don’t say it like that, she’s gonna get the wrong idea!” San protests. “It was just a misunderstanding is all!”
“Guys…”
“All I said was that the apartment is feeling a bit small these days, that next time we should look for something bigger, a better fit for us!” Wooyoung sighs. “There I was, trying to throw you a hint, but you just started sulking and grumbling at me like I’d already packed my bags to move out and abandon her the next day!”
“Really?” you ask, a smile breaking out on your face at San’s abashed disgruntlement.
Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “He got so cross at the idea of not being neighbours that he didn’t even bother to actually listen to what I was saying. Why do you think the apartment felt too damn small, you idiot?”
“Just didn’t sit right with me,” San mumbles. “The idea of not living next to each other. Or with each other. Not being close.”
“Which is why I brought it up,” Wooyoung says, poking at San’s cheek. “I thought we should talk about it before becomes a thing.” His eyes flicker to you, seriousness smoothing over his face. “So yeah, you beat us to the punch. It’s not like I’m in a rush or got it all planned out or anything, I mean I just moved here, but… I don’t know, did we get lazy? About us, about figuring stuff out?”
Warmth spreads through your chest as you listen to them, but Wooyoung’s question brings you a little closer back down to earth.
“Maybe? Yeah, maybe we did get complacent,” you admit. Nothing wrong with not labelling things but… “We never really bothered to sit down and talk things through after the whole ‘hey, let’s stick together for a long time’ talk, yeah. Never talked about what that actually looks like.”
“We were too busy enjoying the moment to think ahead, yeah,” San says with a breathy chuckle, clutching a little tighter onto you.
“To be fair,” Wooyoung says, a grin returning to his lips, “the moments have been pretty damn great. So… does that settle it? Next place we move into, we move in together? Something nice and a little bigger, with an extra bedroom so you got your own space?”
“For someone who doesn’t have it all planned out, you sure put a lot of thought into it,” you giggle, reaching a hand to find Wooyoung’s. “Yeah. That settles it.”
“So. You got upset at the thought of not living next to me, huh?” You give San a cheeky grin, unable to resist teasing him about earlier. “That’s cute.”
You’re both kneeling on his bed, some soft music playing in the background. Dressed for comfort, San is wearing his grey sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt — and you just finished tying a rope around his wrists, after he took you through a refresher of some basics. San was in the middle of diligently inspecting your work, but your teasing has knocked him straight out of teacher mode, into pouty mode.
“Shut up, Wooyoung wasn’t as obvious about his ‘hints’ as he made it sound,” he sulks. He looks back down on the rope, then gives you a heavy side-eye. “…Did you wait on purpose to make fun of me until I was tied up?”
“No way, I’d never make fun of you for being cute,” you say matter-of-factly.
San squints suspiciously at your tone, trying to figure out if you are, in fact, making fun of him again.
“Okay but seriously, does this feel alright?” you ask, squeezing his bound hands. San had stayed mostly quiet when you tied him up; you don’t need much instruction anymore for basic knots — but you did catch a few steadying breaths from him, the bondage clearly having some effect on San.
“It’s… different,” he says hesitantly.
“Need me to take them off?” you ask at once, ready to pry the knot loose, but San shakes his head.
“No, no, they can stay on. It just—” San frowns, struggling for words. “It’s just not my usual thing,” he eventually settles on. “Letting go of control… It’s not exactly my strong point.”
“Ah, so this is not just practice for me, but for you too!” you tease, but you rub a reassuring thumb over his knuckles as you do so. Curiosity nags at you, and you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind ever since you first suggested using him as your guinea pig. “…Is this your first time getting tied up?”
“I used to practice on myself, way back, but other than that? Yeah, first time.” San chuckles at your contemplative expression. “What’s with that face? It can’t be a surprise that a dom doesn’t get tied up on the regular, can it?”
You shrug. “I mean, you’re usually in charge, yeah; being submissive is clearly not your go-to. But never? I don’t know, the few times we mixed things up… you enjoyed it, right? Like the morning after I stayed over? You can’t tell me you weren’t into getting spoiled like that!”
San gives a little head-tilt, as if to say ‘fair enough’. “I was,” he allows with a tiny smile, bursting with memories. “It… it’s nice when I really need it, I guess.”
His answer churns inside you for a moment, and you mislike the way it settles in your stomach. It’s true; San rarely is submissive unless stress or exhaustion has gotten to him.
“Um, San? Listen, I won’t push anything on you,” you say, carefully, feeling especially cognisant of the fact you have him tied up with nowhere to go. “But… you know you don’t have to need it, right? I’m more than happy to switch things up when you want to. Same for Wooyoung, I’m sure!”
San goes quiet, looking down at his bound wrists like he’s searching for some epiphany in the place where rope presses against his skin.
You smile faintly, and raise a soft hand to cup his cheek. “Just think about it, alright? No wrong answers.”
San’s eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles into your palm. He sighs, something releasing inside him. Letting go of just a tiny scrap of control, maybe.
“Want to take it off now?” you ask, and untie the knot when San nods quietly.
“…I did like the feel of the rope,” San admits after you finish, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “I… I liked how it felt to have someone else put it on me.”
A sweet, gentle bloom swells up inside you. “I’m glad,” you smile back at San. “I liked practising on you.”
“Maybe,” he starts slowly, giving you a bashful look like he’s embarrassed by what he is about to say next, “maybe we don’t need to be done practising? Do you want to try something else?”
Now there’s an offer you can hardly refuse.
San’s suggestion is a little more complex than a simple restriction of the wrists, so you go and grab him some water while he pulls up a few visual references on his phone to show you what the end-goal looks like. When you step back into the bedroom, San has pulled off his t-shirt, waiting for you with a dimpled smile and his bare upper body at your disposal.
There is always something magnetic about San’s impressive physique; but now the musculature draws you in more than ever, knowing you’ll be working so closely to it, demanding your full attention.
“Show-off,” you mumble, rolling your eyes like you aren’t fighting off heat rising to your cheeks.
“What, want me to put my shirt back on?” San asks, his smile curving into a cocky grin.
“…No.”
With the matter of San’s shirt settled, you sink back into the ropework together.
You get why San likes it. The shared intimacy, drawing closer to one another with every hitch or knot. The focused methodology behind it, how the world seems to disappear into nothing but the rope in your hands and the person you use it on, allowing all else to fade from your mind. You’ve always felt there is something meditative about the act of being tied up, but now you realise the reversal is also true.
After all your previous practising, you start to fall into a trained rhythm; you used to get frustrated with your own clumsiness, but now your fingers mostly remember what they are supposed to do.
Still, this new endeavour is a little trickier than a simple cuff around the wrists and so San speaks up more often, guiding you through the steps;
“Careful with placement, we don’t want to pinch anything here. Yes, yes that’s good, Pull the pressure down, we’re always going down the arm. That’s it, you got it. Little tighter. Yep, little more. Don’t be scared the cinch is too much, I’ll tell you if there’s a problem.”
A few simple lines of rope are laid around the width of San’s upper torso, hugging his pecs and providing a basis for you to work a ladder tie down the length of his arm. As you relax into the looping pattern, so does San. He falls quiet again, drawing deep, slow breaths as he intently follows the movement of your hands, his eyes gleaming with cat-like curiosity.
When you finish the first of San’s arms, tying the last hitch above his wrist and locking off the rope, you draw back a little to fully take in the result.
It’s interesting; bondage often has a way of making Wooyoung look smaller than he is, like all his boundless energy is snugly contained within the corded restraints. But for San, it’s the polar opposite.
The shibari accentuates the broadness of his chest and shoulders; his muscles bulge under the looping pattern whenever he moves, like he is bursting at the seams. Heated pressure builds in your abdomen at the sight of him, then your eyes wander down to San’s wrist.
There’s a fair bit of tail end to the rope, dangling down his wrist as leftover after that last hitch — and you’d worried it would take away from the aesthetics of the shibari, but instead the length of rope lures you in, whispering for you to grab the end and pull, tugging San closer to you. To test the power he emits; whether he would submit regardless of physical strength.
“Still got another arm to go,” San reminds you, a teasing glint in his eyes at how distracted you are by his appearance. But his voice is low and husky, your distracted state also causing a sharp heat to coil tightly inside him.
Though you still make sure to be safe and precise, the brush of your fingers over San’s other arm is not as relaxed this time around.
The heat radiating from his skin somehow feels warmer than before, his gaze burning into your hands as you work. San’s breaths grow heavier with every corded loop around his arm, and he is visibly antsy by the time you finish up at his wrist — and now you don’t resist your earlier urges. With a playful grin, you take both ends of the rope in your hands and give them a soft tug, just to tease.
San grunts as you pull him in closer, fiery intensity crackling around him, and the grin is wiped right off your face when he bites his lip, hooded eyes piercing straight through you.
“Fuck,” you breathe, shifting your thighs and all too aware of the wetness gathering between them, “Wooyoung’d go crazy if he saw you right now.”
(You distantly wonder what time it is; how much longer until Wooyoung steps back out that cinema. There’s decent odds he’ll head straight home, knowing you and San are practising without him.)
San’s lips curve sharply. “Yeah? I look hot like this?” he baits.
“Ugh, you are so needy,” you say, but the flustered laugh in your voice belies the reprimand. “Yes, you look good. Wooyoung would fold within the blink of an eye.” (You would fold even faster.) “He better get home soon, he’s gonna be so fucking upset if he misses out on this.”
“Serves him right for being such a damn brat lately,” San huffs, though there is an eager twinkle in his eyes.
“Don’t be like that!” You shake your head with another laugh, then move off the bed and beckon San onto his feet. “Come, see for yourself how hot you look.”
Still holding onto the rope-ends at San’s wrists, you lead him towards the mirror, and San follows with a slow smile. He barely even spares his own reflection a glance, too distracted by your hands, the subtle control emitted by your loose grip on the rope.
His fingers twitch, and then San catches you by surprise by yanking his own hands back, throwing you off balance. You release the rope with a squeak and stumble forward — but before you can bump into San, his hands find your hips and you let out a soft ‘umph’ as he pins you against the wall, the mirror now completely ignored.
“Don’t need to see,” San breathes, his chest pressing up against yours. “Can tell plain as day from your reaction.” Even through your clothes you can feel the press of rope and warmth radiating off of him. It’s like you’re caged in by a wall of heat, his fingers solidly pressing into your waist. San leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as his gaze flutters down to your lips, his head tilting ever so slightly. The intent to kiss is more than obvious, but San waits, leaving that final step to you.
Your head is in a daze, still a little stunned from the sudden switch-up. Then again, it’s not like you didn’t notice how worked up San got from this little experiment — hell, the dampness already soaking through your panties is proof you’ve gotten plenty worked up yourself.
“Yes,” you gasp in answer to his silent question. You can’t remember raising your hand, but suddenly your fingers are tangled into San’s hair and you pull him forward, bridging that tiny gap between your mouths.
He groans lowly, his tongue instantly probing to tease your lips apart into a messy, urgent kiss. You hang onto San for dear life as he kisses you senseless against the wall, every ounce of pent up energy released all at once. He whines into your mouth when you grab onto his ass, at which he roughly grinds into you, guiding you to hook a leg around his waist. The growing hardness of his cock sends sparks through your clothed cunt, and you rut back into him in equal measure, encouraging more whines past his lips.
San’s hands slip underneath your shirt, only breaking the kiss to quickly discard it, and then he is back on you. He is everywhere it feels like, his touch roaming over your heated body, the cords across his arms and torso grazing over your bra and bare skin. You palm at his chest, at the swell of his tits emphasised by the rope you laid there yourself, thumbing at his dark nipples and delighting in the small, desperate noises San makes against your mouth.
“Can you—?” he groans, plying your neck with wet kisses. “Fuck, please— I— I want—”
“S-slow down, Sannie,” you gasp, putting your hands on his waist to steady the roll of his hips. “What is it? Tell me, tell me what you want.”
He whines into your neck, teeth catching against skin, but the desirous fog lifts slightly from San when you cup his cheek and lift him to meet your gaze. He smiles faintly at the eye-contact, fondness melting into his features. His cheeks are flushed — and you are startled to realise it’s not just from arousal. San is self-conscious.
“Want you to tie me up,” he mutters, his eyes breaking away from yours as he presses a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Wanna try it again.”
You blink in surprise, backing away from his lips. “Wait, like tied up tied up? San, are you sure?”
San slowly catches his breath, forcing himself to look you in the eye again. “So fucking sure,” he says, his thumbs drawing slow circles into your waist. “Let’s try it, I trust you. …Besides, it’ll keep us busy until Wooyoung gets back, right?”
“God, you are such a softie,” you laugh breathlessly, amused at how quickly he changed his tune about Wooyoung. “What happened to ‘serves him right’? No conviction whatsoever.”
“Yeah,” he grins, giving a slow roll of his hips. “What are you gonna do about it? Teach me some?”
Fuck. Inviting San to take on a more submissive role had not been entirely selfless on your part — you can’t deny your own excitement over this turn of events — but you had offered it with zero pressure; and definitely no expectation that San might take you up on it the very same evening.
“Hang on, Sannie,” you slow him down again, tempering the heat of the moment. You don’t want him barging face-first into something like this without thinking it through. “You really are sure?”
San’s grin fades into something more serious, giving you the distinct impression he started thinking this through ever since you suggested practising on him back at the grocery store. “Yeah. I’m sure if you’re sure,” he says, looking over you for signs of hesitation on your side.
“Oh, I’m sure!” (In your case, you know for a fact you’ve thought this through ever since that conversation.)
“Good,” he says, cheeks dimpling. “I want this. I want to try this with you.”
The persuasive power of San’s dimples is the final nudge that seals the deal. San brightens with delight when you grab his hand and pull him back to the bed, ushering him to lay down. You have a brief talk about the exact whats and hows; but it’s immediately obvious that you’re on the same wavelength.
(But first you send Wooyoung a vague text, implying it’d be better he doesn’t bring Yeosang over to the apartment for drinks after the movie showing, just in case. He replies quickly, leading you to suspect the movie has already finished, and you answer his 👀 with a short but simple “*it’s a secret *🤭”. It’s a lot more civilised than the way you and Wooyoung had clued San in a while back, which San points out with a huff, but you gently shush him and set to work.)
San’s breath shallows as you push him flat down on his back, then spread his arms to tie him to the bedposts. His voice slightly hoarse, San talks you through adjusting the ladder-ties over the length of his arms, making sure they’re still comfortable in the changed position, while he follows your every move with soulful eyes, trying not to fidget.
“Relax,” you murmur after you’re finished, stroking San’s cheek to smooth away his jittery energy. “I got you. Gonna take care of you.”
There is a strange hush in the room as San nods quietly in response, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows in anticipation. “I know. I’m not nervous,” he says, sighing when you softly kiss his forehead. “I’m just a bit… nervous. But not like that, you know? Like—”
“You know what you are? Rambling,” you laugh fondly, and leave another soft kiss on his lips.
He chuckles back at you, his eyes crinkling. “Sorry.”
“Hm-hm,” you hum, shaking your head. “Don’t be. You’re just really cute today.”
The rosy flush across San’s cheeks intensifies, proving your point.
“And also,” you say, straddling San so you can drape yourself over his prone, helpless body, “hot as fuck.”
He groans when you press your lips against his, tongues intertwining messily as you deepen the kiss. You’re both still partially clothed, but you will rectify that later. Just want to take your time easing San into it first.
Shudders run through him at even the lightest touch, your fingers teasing along the lengths of rope across his torso, delighting in how he arches up to chase you. Soon any remnants of San’s tension have melted away, pleasure rippling through him wherever your hands go.
San whines when your mouth breaks away from his, kiss-swollen lips pouting up at you, but the sound turns into ragged gasps when you suck a wet path down the freckles on his neck. You briefly nip at the mole on his collarbone, then trail further downward.
He hisses a quiet curse as your tongue flicks over a pebbled nipple, your hands grazing so lightly over his stomach that he twitches underneath. The distinct definition of his abs has faded, ever since he switched up his gym routine a while back.
Honestly, you like it this way. You like feeling the softness of him underneath your palms, and what it signifies.
San might be one of those rare types who genuinely enjoys a rigorous workout — but he has complained his fair share about the strife of maintaining a sixpack. Now it’s like he has relaxed a little, prioritising his own preferences over any attempts to impress you or Wooyoung. Trusting that he impresses just by being himself, following his own way.
Small sighs and moans are steadily escaping past San’s lips, his hands clenching and releasing uselessly as he itches to reach out and touch you back. Clearly his nervous-not-nerves have settled… which means you can start teasing him.
“Let’s get these off, shall we,” you demand, tugging at the waistband of his sweats.
San eagerly lifts his hips to help you, exposing his his half-hard dick is exposed to your touch. Even after all this time, you bite your lip in appreciation at the sight of him, thick and slightly curved, warm but dry in your palm. You lean down, working your jaw for a thick globule of spit to fix that problem. San groans lowly when your fingers curl around the base of his cock and your tongue darts out, slathering him with slow, messy strokes until he is glistening and hard.
You relish San’s hitched breaths, the tilt of his hips as he arches into you. “Ahh fuck, feels good…” he gasps when you lap at his slit, shifting restlessly at your languid pace. He rocks up against your mouth lavishing his hardening cock, trying to convince you to take him inside — but you are in control today, and you have other plans.
San’s hips jerk when your mouth abandons his cock to press a kiss on his thigh, the moan escaping past his lips loud.
“Hm, n-no c’mon, baby—” he whines, hips bucking up as his eyes squeeze shut, a tear clinging to his lashes.
Your eyes widen at the intensity of his response, sending a searing pulse straight down your abdomen. You run a soothing hand over his leg, but the light touch only makes him antsier, body contorting in a desperate attempt to get you back where he needs you. “Fuck, just look at you…” you say in a quiet hush, your thumb rubbing circles over a trio of moles on his inner thigh. “Still doing okay, Sannie?”
The question sobers him up, but only a little, his eyes still dazed with need. “Y-yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, abashed, like he too is surprised by his own intensity.
“Fuck no, don’t be,” you assure him with a breathy chuckle, rubbing your thighs together restlessly in an attempt to relieve your own tension. “I like seeing you like this. Fucking gorgeous.”
The beautiful flush on his face has crept down his neck and chest, giving him a feverish glow. Muscles ripple underneath the rope harness as he squirms against his bound wrists; all his strength rendered useless, caged underneath you.
San groans at the praise, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut like he can’t withstand the force of your reverent gaze — but it doesn’t help him to escape your touch, gentle fingers also expressing their reverence of him as they wrap around his leaking cock again.
Hunger gnaws at you, craving to ravish San until he can’t take it anymore, until he has nothing left to give, every last ounce of pleasure wrested from his body. The glide of your palm over his thick length is easy now, but you keep a deliberate, unhurried pace to slowly drive San up the wall. His small moans and hiccuped breaths send sparks of heat through you. Arousal joined by awe and gratitude; that San lets you see him, have him, like this.
It’s when a lone tear finally escapes San’s lashes that you can’t stand it anymore, breaking away to haphazardly shuck off your clothes. San watches the uncovering of bare skin in a haze, eyes heavy-lidded and his tongue darting out to wet his lips when you smoothly unclip your bra and throw it aside. His hands flex instinctively as you take a moment to knead at your breasts, reminding him of what he can’t touch.
“Please…” San begs, and his eyes glimmer so sweetly that your resolve to tease him crumbles. There is no denying that soft expression.
San lets out a groan of excitement when you shift forward and lean down. Eagerly he latches onto your chest, suckling and nipping at the soft flesh with noisy enthusiasm, lips smacking wetly as he cranes his neck to smother himself between your breasts. You shudder at his fervour, shakily carding your fingers through his hair in encouragement.
“That’s it, there’s a good boy,” you moan. “Making me feel so good, fuck.” You kiss the top of his head, gasping when he mouths harshly at your nipple, growing rough in his sweet worship. It’s a limited window of opportunity you have given him and San uses it with purpose, devouring as much of you as he can.
You indulge him for a moment longer, indulge yourself, until it is time to remind San who is in charge. He whines when you pull away, trying to follow after the softness of your chest — but the ropes binding him to the bedposts pull taut. San groans in exasperation, like he had forgotten his current predicament entirely, too lost in the pleasure of pleasing you.
“N-no, wanna—” he starts, you put a silencing finger on his lips.
“Behave for me, hm? Can you do that?”
San whines, shifting restlessly underneath you, but he slowly quiets down. “I— I’ll behave,” he says, desperation glittering in his gaze as he looks up at you.
“Good,” you hum, pecking his nose before you rise up and settle back down on his thighs.
Already he looks half-way wrecked, his damp hair mussed up and a sheen of sweat gathered on his skin. His cock is flushed a deep, dark red, resting in a wet patch on his stomach where precum oozes from the tip. Just a light touch of your hand is enough to make San hiss sharply, and the tremors through his body are a clear warning sign of how close he is already. Slowly you push him further, pumping him with firm strokes.
San’s hips jerk up before he can catch himself, his resolve to behave immediately tested. He swears under his breath, pitiful moans spilling past his lips as he manages to regain himself — moans that turn absolutely wretched when he sees how your free hand dips down between your thighs.
You sigh blissfully as you push two fingers inside. They’re sucked in so very easily, your cunt sopping wet without a single touch; to play with San like this is already enough. His breath picks up fast, eyes rolling back at the squelching noises from your hands working in tandem. Every heave of his chest is laboured, his back arching up prettily for you as his moans grow in pitch.
“Fuck, baby, I can’t— M-more, need more,” he whines, futilely tugging at the ropes.
“So greedy,” you say, a slow grin on your lips. “Is my hand not enough for you? You need my cunt too?”
San groans, frustrated and desperate. He’s truly feeling that lack of control by now, unable to reach out and grab your waist. Any other day he would bounce you helplessly on his cock or to flip you over entirely, fucking you so deep and hard you feel him for days after.
But right now? San can’t do any of those things. Instead he’s reduced to a powerless sulk, his thighs twitching underneath you. “Unfair,” he mumbles weakly, his bottom lip sticking out petulantly at your refusal to just give him what he wants.
“Unfair? Are you saying I’m a mean dom?” You gasp in faux-affront, releasing his cock to raise your fingers to your lips, smearing them accidentally-on-purpose with the salty glisten of precum.
He whines at the loss of your hand, trying to buck his hips. “J-just wanna be inside you…”
“Ahh… Well, if that is what you want…” you hum, and languidly slide forward to reposition yourself. San chokes on a moan when you hold onto the base of his cock, find the right angle, and then sink down. You suck in a sharp breath at the sudden pressure on your walls, stretching you open; two of your fingers are not quite enough to properly loosen yourself up for the girth of San’s thick length — but you welcome the burn, savour how your body is forced to adjust itself to San, gradually accommodating to the shape of him inside your cunt.
“F-fuck, so tight, so fucking—” San rasps, his hands clenching into fists so tight the knuckles whiten. He twitches inside you, tension pulled so taut that for a moment you think he’s going to cum on the spot, but somehow San pulls himself back from the brink.
“Good boy,” you purr, bracing one hand on San’s flushed, heaving chest so you can use the other to wipe his sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. “Doing so well for me.”
Your fingers trail down the side of his face and to your surprise, San turns his head to suck them into his mouth. He noisily slurps around them with teary eyes, his pleading look shooting straight down to your stuffed cunt. You swallow hard as San’s tongue laves your fingers in wet heat, a messy trail of spittle trickling down his chin when you pull your hand away.
Glistening with San’s saliva, your fingers slide easily through your folds to find your clit. You sigh in bliss as you leisurely rub at the sensitive nub, drinking how San squirms and gasps with every clench around his throbbing cock. His watery eyes are transfixed by the slippery swirl of your fingerpads, unable to look away.
However, even in his hazy state, San quickly realises you’re not actually moving. “H-hey—”
“Uh-uh,” you hum in warning when his hips buck, lightly pinching his nipple. “No rushing things today, Sannie. Thought you wanted me to keep you busy until Wooyoung gets back.”
San groans as he tries to buck again, but unable to get proper leverage. “Baby, we don’t even know when he’s coming home to us,” he whines.
“True, true,” you admit, though your earlier text probably did plenty to sway Wooyoung towards a quick return. “But there’s an easy way to check that.”
You’re careful not to let San slip out of your wet cunt while you reach for your phone, inspired by your recent shenanigans with Wooyoung. But despite being the one who is in the room with you this time, somehow San plays the part of your victim yet again.
San seems to realise the same thing. “You are a mean dom,” he says, an admonishing look on his flushed face. “You better give Woo a hard time, you owe me that mu—”
“You better stay quiet,” you interrupt him with a grin. “What if Yeosang is still there, hm? Wouldn’t want him to overhear anything… untoward.”
He whines again, pulling against his bindings. “Why am I always the one getting bullied?” he protests, like he never bullies you (and especially Wooyoung) when he’s in charge. “You really enjoy tormenting me that much?”
“What I enjoy, is seeing you pout,” you tease him, truthfully, and unlock your phone to call Wooyoung.
San sighs in exasperation, biting his lip to try and rob you of that beloved pout; but he only manages for a split-second before it’s right back on his face. The endearing sight bubbles warmly in your chest, yet the futility of his protest sparks heat between your thighs. As much as you’re trying to draw this all out, you’re slowly losing the battle to sit still on his cock — and the excitement that crackles through you as you wait for Wooyoung to answer his phone doesn’t help.
Wooyoung picks up, and immediately gets down to business. “What’s the secret?” he demands impatiently.
You giggle at his eagerness, deliberately keeping the call off speaker so San only hears your side of the conversation. “Telling you would kinda defeat the point, wouldn’t it? Where are you?”
There’s barely any background noise, leaving you confused over his current location. Wooyoung wouldn’t have picked up this quick if he was still with Yeosang, but clearly he isn’t out on the streets or riding public transportation either.
Wooyoung chuckles. “Where am I? Hmm… it’s a secret.”
He says it with such an air of mystery that you blink and look over your shoulder, half-expecting to see him standing in the doorway — and immediately feel silly when no one’s there, obviously. You would’ve heard Wooyoung’s voice if he was already in the room with you.
“Funny. Is that a ‘I’m five minutes away’ secret or a ‘go to bed without me, we’ll see each other in the morning’ secret?” you ask, squeezing around San just to be a menace. He visibly strains to keep quiet, face contorted as he bites down a whine.
“Oh, we’ll see each other soon I think,” Wooyoung hums, and you faintly hear what sounds like his footsteps through the phone. “So, spill. What is it? Did you finally get a strap?”
“Fuck.” This time, the squeeze of your walls around San’s is entirely involuntary, and a tiny whimper finds its way past his lips.
“Gonna take that as a ‘no’. Also… speaking of where people are, how about Sannie?” Wooyoung asks. (You wonder if he heard the noise.) “Is this secret a solo endeavour or is he around somewhere?”
“He’s… busy,” you grin. You draw a teasing finger over San’s chest, parallel to the lines of his harness. Another whine spills over as he twitches under your touch, like the press of the rope against his skin has made him even more sensitive than usual.
“Even more secrets. Interesting,” Wooyoung muses to himself; but one particular secret is solved when you distantly hear the front door of the apartment open. He giggles when your breath catches, knowing he gave himself away. “See you soon, alright?” he says, and loudly slams the door shut on purpose.
San jerks at the sound, his eyes widening with realisation. He breaths hard underneath you, his cock giving a violent twitch.
“Over here!” you call out to Wooyoung, and San makes a strangled noise. His tearful eyes gleam with anticipation, excitement — and just a hint of those not-nerves again. “Hey,” you say gently and massage his shoulder in reassurance, drawing his attention back to you. “Wooyoung’s gonna lose his mind, seeing you like this. We’re gonna take such good care of you, of our Sannie.”
San nods, managing a few steadying breaths. “Yeah,” he says softly, his smile almost shy. “All yours.”
It’s then, as warmth glows inside your chest at San’s renewed submission, that Wooyoung opens the bedroom door, looking around in search of your ‘secret’. “Okay, so what’s all the fuss abou—” he starts, but then he lays eyes on San, silenced at once.
All words are stolen from Wooyoung’s tongue, unable to do anything but stare at San’s tied up figure. His mouth has gone slack, eyes unblinking as they take in every inch of rope laid across San’s flushed, sweaty skin, emphasising the wideness of his chest and shoulders, and how it tapers down to his narrow waist — down to where you’re settled in San’s lap, keeping his dick warm.
“See,” you grin at San, lightly rocking your hips into him, “told you he’d like it.”
Even the slight motion is enough to make San whimper and arch, biting at his swollen lips. The stretch around his thick cock is so easy and satisfying now, buried snugly inside your cunt like he was made for you, just to stuff you full. The fevered flush on San’s cheeks deepens as he stares right back at Wooyoung, helplessly waiting for his next move.
“I… I knew you guys talked about practising, I didn’t think… Fuck.”
Wooyoung curses lowly, hands shaky as he shrugs off his jacket and lets it drop onto the floor, leaving him in just a loose-fitting tanktop and trousers. He drinks in the sight of you and San as he shifts onto the bed, darkened eyes briefly lingering on the bite-marks San left on your breasts before Wooyoung’s attention flickers back to San himself.
He brushes his hand over the length of San’s arm, his fingertips catching against the ladder-tie fixed around tensed muscles. “Never seen you like this before,” Wooyoung murmurs in quiet wonderment, wetting his lips. “How is it, Sannie? Is she treating you real nice? Are you having fun?”
“She’s mean,” San pouts, but there is a fond gleam hidden in his eyes as he glances at you. “Wouldn’t let me cum until you got here.”
Wooyoung groans deeply at that, clenching his hand around San’s forearm as though to steady himself. He catches you off guard when he suddenly turns his head to capture you in a hard kiss.
You moan in surprise at Wooyoung’s roughness, his self-control already tattered and hanging on by a single frayed thread. It makes your hips roll against San on pure instinct, drawing a broken whine as he clumsily humps upward to meet your slow grind.
“Fuck, that is real nice of you,” Wooyoung grunts against your lips. “Waiting just for me? Don’t know I could’ve been that patient.”
“You definitely couldn’t have,” you giggle, and reluctantly push him away. “But you don’t have to be patient, not today. Go on, give Sannie a kiss too. Enjoy.”
“Oh I will,” Wooyoung says, his voice raspy with excitement.
San makes a noise, muscles tensing as he yanks uselessly at his bound wrists. He looks nothing short of depraved, hair matted with sweat and eyes glassy, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Delectable, served up to Wooyoung on a platter — and Wooyoung is starved.
Obediently he follows your instruction, descending on San’s mouth in a frenzy.
You sigh in satisfaction as San twitches inside your stuffed cunt, your hand returning to your clit. Even just a light graze of your fingers burns through your core while you revel in the sight in front of you, of San keening pitifully as Wooyoung ravishes him.
Both of them are just as needy and desperate as the other; Wooyoung lost in his aggressive greed, San whimpering as he surrenders himself to it. Your breath hitches at the liberal peeks of tongue as their jaws shift, a sloppy tangle that has San panting, drool spilling over onto his chin. Wooyoung laps it all up before sucking San’s tongue into his mouth, his hands starting to wander.
Wooyoung’s fixation on San’s chest is instantly obvious — and all too understandable. He appreciatively tracks his fingers over the lines of rope, then kneads at the firm pecs trapped between them. His trimmed nails dig into San’s skin ever so slightly, only spurred on when San’s gasps into his mouth, writhing against the dual sensations of his throbbing cock engulfed by your wet heat and Wooyoung’s unbridled attentions.
“What do you think, Wooyoungie? Beautiful like this, isn’t he?” you ask, voice a little shaky, but still allowing yourself a moment of pride in your work.
Wooyoung breaks away from San’s lips, a thin thread of spittle briefly connecting them before it snaps.
“Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it,” he grunts hoarsely. He bends down to suck at San’s tits with the same frenetic fervour he used on San’s mouth; and now San’s unmuffled cries spill freely, every pitched moan searing through your abdomen. San looks on the brink — and honestly, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold off yourself either.
“Fuck, Sannie, I don’t— Fuck—” Wooyoung babbles between sucking marks on San’s chest, just as overwhelmed by the unexpected reversal. “Is— is this okay? W-what can I—?”
You run a soothing hand through Wooyoung’s hair to ground him, massaging the scruff of his neck. “It’s okay, Wooyoungie, just talk to me. What do you want?”
Wooyoung sighs and relaxes at you kneading his tense muscles, taking a few steadying breaths. He then plucks at the rope laid over San’s sternum with a longing glance, playing with how the cord fills the divot between San’s pecs.
“Looks so good like this. K-kinda wish it was me here…” he rasps, stroking his fingers almost in a thrusting motion along the length of rope, “…me fucking these pretty tits.”
You never even get the chance to check in with San, or to consider the logistics of removing this part of the harness without needing to dismantle the entire thing. No, San is way ahead of you on both counts.
“Cut it. Cut away the rope,” he blurts out immediately, jutting his chin at the safety shears lying on the nightstand.
Wooyoung giggles at San’s urgency, reaching for the scissors. “So generous. I’ll buy you some new rope then,” he coos, wiggling two fingers under the cord to lift it up. “Fuck, but aren’t you eager to get used today, all of a sudden. What brought this on, hm?”
The concern behind Wooyoung’s question is subtle, hidden under a thick fog of arousal, but neither you nor San miss it. San lets out a breathy, self-conscious laugh at Wooyoung’s valid assumption that San might be less than alright if he is willing to submit.
“Nothing,” he says, shuddering as the blunt side of the shears brushes over his skin. “Nothing happened. I… I just wanted this.”
His chest puffs up a little, like he’s proud of himself for the admission. (You definitely are.)
“We talked,” you add, toying with the wide strap of Wooyoung’s tanktop, half-distracted by a glimpse of his collarbone, “and San decided he wanted to try something new.”
The tension on the harness loosens as Wooyoung frees up the space for him to use, causing a slight slack to the ladder pattern on San’s arms; but they stay in place. “Hm, so I have you to thank for this little surprise? You talked Sannie into this?”
“Don’t give me too much credit,” you grin, patting San’s side. “Didn’t take much convincing.”
“N-no, you can take a little credit,” San mumbles, almost a little drunkenly as he strains to stay still, slowly looking back-and-forth between you and Wooyoung.
Something passes over Wooyoung’s face as the sharp heat in his gaze momentarily softens. He turns to you and brushes his knuckles over your cheek, then presses a deceptively chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,” he says quietly, before a teasing glint returns to his eyes. “I’ll make good use of it.”
“You better, yeah,” you tease, ignoring how Wooyoung’s sudden moment of softness threatens to throw you off balance. “Sannie was real excited for you to join us.”
Wooyoung hums in acknowledgement, discarding the remainder of his clothes. As he does so, he intently eyes the rise and fall of San’s chest at first, but then his eyes wander back between your thighs, where San’s dick disappears inside your sopping cunt.
“Can I?” Wooyoung asks, but doesn’t wait for answer before he runs two fingers through your drenched folds, holding the digits in a v-shape to press around the base of San’s cock. He grins at the way you and San both jerk at his touch, drinking in every moan as he leisurely swipes at your slick.
“F-fuck, Wooyoungie—” you whine, your hand clamping around his shoulder.
His eyes widen when he realises just how close you are, lips spreading into a filthy grin. “Yeah? Gonna give me a little more? Give me enough to lube up Sannie’s fat tits?” he rasps, stroking his fingers with more purpose. “C’mon baby, get it real nice and sloppy for me.”
You hiss another curse, your hips picking up speed when Wooyoung’s thumb finds your clit, right as he lazily mouths at your neck. You’re losing yourself in a clouded frenzy, wantonly gyrating against Wooyoung’s fingers and San’s cock; no longer satisfied with San just filling up your cunt, but finally using him to fuck yourself in earnest.
You’ve held back for so long, but now pure desperation hits you all at once. You have to cum, to find a release to the pressure that’s been building all night from the very moment you and San started your innocuous ‘practice’ session, like neither of you had been fantasising about this very scenario. Your breathless moans mingle with San’s choked gasp as your reckless chase for relief inadvertently sends sends him down a delirious spiral.
San’s head falls back against the pillow as he cries out, struggling against the ropes and bucking clumsily up into your cunt, sliding against Wooyoung’s fingers. Tears mingle with sweat on San’s cheeks, his whines catching in his throat when you clench around him tighter than ever before.
You can’t help it, not when Wooyoung bites and sucks at your neck, every nerve ending in your body going haywire as his thumb never lets up on your clit no matter how you twist and squirm.
“P-please,” San gasps, trembling helplessly. “Please, I- I—”
“What is it, Sannie? Too much? Not enough?” Wooyoung grins when San whimpers at the latter question, bucking his hips again. “So greedy. How about you, baby?” he asks you, licking his lips. “Want more too?”
You groan when Wooyoung stops moving his fingers, instinctively burrowing a hand in his hair, tuggin impatiently at the long dark strands. “Fuck, don’t stop now, close, so close, Woo,” you babble mindlessly. “Yes yes want more, fuck—!”
Your throat closes up with a high-pitched keen when Wooyoung does exactly what you asked for; giving you more.
Just like that, his index finger slides into your cunt, snugly pressed between your walls and San’s cock. You mewl at the added stretch, a not completely unfamiliar burn but still overwhelming as you rush towards the precipice at break-neck speed. Your vision whites out as you convulse, struggling to stay upright as electrified pleasure surges through you in waves. It’s not until the first wave passes that you realise Wooyoung has worked a second finger in there, snapping his wrist and dragging San right down with you.
“Feels good, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks, grinning as your slick gushes over his fingers. “Is that what you wanted? Me next to you in that tight pussy, fucking our good girl together?”
San sobs brokenly, beautifully, powerless as he becomes undone underneath you, painting your fluttering walls with thick, heavy spurts of hot seed. His bottom lip is raw from his teeth, but still he bites down another whimper when your cunt clamps so tightly from an intense aftershock that you can’t help but push him out no matter how you try to keep him inside.
Wooyoung groans in delight at the view of San’s cum leaking out of your weeping hole, right on his fingers. He gathers as much as he can while you slump off on the side, trying and failing to catch your breath.
“Yeah, I think this will do just fine,” he chuckles darkly, and smears his slicked-up fingers between San’s pecs. He even works up some saliva to crudely spit onto San’s glistening skin, all shiny and slippery.
Antsy from waiting, Wooyoung straddles San and roughly grabs two handfuls of his tits to press together, creating a nice crevice for Wooyoung to fuck into. You kneel next to San, giving yourself a perfect view of what’s about to happen. One of your hands trails back between your legs, while the other rests on San’s thigh to ground him, your nails gently grazing over the sensitive muscle.
San whines, arching his back to meet Wooyoung’s flushed cock, its darkened tip leaking precum already. It only adds to the easy slide; an obscene mixture of fluids pooling in the shallow valley between San’s firm, pillowy pecs, causing a wet smacking sound with every snap of Wooyoung’s hips.
“Oh fuck, that feels good,” Wooyoung groans, his eyes fluttering shut. He sinks into the rhythm, soaking up the lewd squelches and San’s soft moans.
Your fingers slowly circle around your swollen, tender clit while you watch in a daze how Wooyoung’s dick slides between San’s cleavage with fluid strokes. Wooyoung draws deep, raspy breaths as he tries to stop himself from unravelling too fast, desperate to savour this moment. San’s chest heaves against the weight of Wooyoung’s cock, sweat dripping down his forehead and tongue lolling out of his mouth.
San whimpers when you reach behind Wooyoung to wrap a hand around his softening cock. The touch is gentle at first, almost absentminded while you watch them intently, but your hand gradually picks up speed as San’s moans get louder, needier. Pleasure buzzes through your worn-out body while San’s dick plumps back up in your palm.
San is totally gone at this point, using his last shreds of cognition to crane his neck, trying to catch his tongue against the tip of Wooyoung’s cock with every thrust. Wooyoung lets out a strained giggle of delight at San’s mindless instinct to please, and he pushes forward with deeper strokes to give San a taste of salty precum, mingled with the other bodily fluids gathered on San’s chest.
Wooyoung readjusts his grip so he can thumb at San’s nipples, grinning fiendishly when San whines loudly, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. “So you enjoy this sort of thing, huh?” Wooyoung teases, grunting between thrusts as his pace picks up. The air is filled with the heady, lewd squelch of his cock pushing air between San’s cleavage. “Didn’t expect to ever see you tied up like this. Do you like it, Sannie? Us having our way with you, and nothing you can do about it. Just have to lie there and take it.”
“Y-yeah,” San hiccups, struggling for words while your fist twists around his cockhead with every pass of your hand over his length. “F-fuck, I do, I like it Youngie…”
San’s meek submission flares through your aching cunt — and for Wooyoung, it proves too much to handle. His voice cracks as he doubles over with high-pitched gasps, hips stuttering as he spills on San’s chest, some splatters reaching up to his neck and face.
Wooyoung barely gives himself a chance to catch his breath before he’s bent over San, his tongue laving over the sticky mess on San’s defiled chest.
San lets out a weak moan at Wooyoung’s greedy, suckling mouth, his own tongue darting out to catch a drop of cum on the corner of his lips. It’s decadent, filthy, and you’re drawn closer into their orbit of debauchery with every wet smack of Wooyoung’s mouth, every moan wrested from San’s lips.
Finally you can’t stand it anymore, abandoning your clit to lay on your side. Half-draped over San, you suck at the splatters of cum covering his freckled neck, pumping his cock quicker. The motion catches Wooyoung’s attention and he glances up at your hand around San’s dick, his dark eyes clouded over, mouth and chin shiny with fluids.
“F-fuck, please I can’t—” San whines, trembling uncontrollably. “Baby, I-I’m gonna—”
“Give it to me,” Wooyoung cuts through San’s babbling, his voice hoarse. He rests his cheek on San’s saliva-glistening chest, tongue resting on his bottom lip in invitation.
San’s moans go up in pitch, fighting for breath as you twist and squeeze at his cock with confident familiarity, knowing exactly what he needs to fall apart. He does just so, whining, spilling his load messily over Wooyoung’s face; not as much as the first time, but enough to paint Wooyoung’s tongue white, even with the stray splatters that get on his face and in his hair.
Wooyoung closes his lips with a mischievous grin, but he does not swallow. Instead he turns to you with a dark look, half-crawling over San to grab at the soft meat of your thigh.
Impatiently he pushes you onto your back and spreads your legs, then latches onto you. You cry out, yanking at Wooyoung’s hair as he crudely tongue-fucks your cunt, pushing San’s cum inside you. His fingers dig into your hips, encouraging you to grind freely against his face.
Already close from earlier, it does not take much for the orgasm lurking in the shadows to coil around you with hot tendrils, tightly until finally the pressure snaps. You spasm and mewl, desperately grabbing onto San’s arm as you clamp around Wooyoung’s tongue with a throttled moan.
Wooyoung makes a pleased noise, nudging his nose against your clit while you ride it out; chasing every spark jolting through your core. Weakly you run a hand through Wooyoung’s hair, holding him close as he gently sucks at your folds, drawing out the aftermath until finally you slump down.
As your hold on him loosens, Wooyoung presses a final, tender kiss on your soft thigh. Slowly he withdraws, then sits up and to face San, who lays on the bed worn-out and wrecked in all the best ways.
“That was… different,” Wooyoung says with a faint grin, cupping San’s puffy cheeks to brush away a few lingering tears with his thumbs. “You okay, Sannie? Fuck, you did amazing.”
San answers with a soft hum, tiredly grinning back at Wooyoung. “Different, yeah. Good different. I’m good,” he sighs, glancing at you with a tender gleam in his eyes.
You fondly run a hand through his hair. “I’m glad,” you say in a quiet hush, feeling an odd relief at San’s words. Like a preemptive strike at any uncertainties that could have nagged at you later.
Carefully, you undo the knot around one of his wrists and Wooyoung takes your cue, reaching for San’s other arm. Together you release him from the bindings and the remainder of the cut harness. San is content to just let it happen, to let your care wash over him as you check him for abrasions and massage any stiffness out of his arms.
“How about you?” Wooyoung asks you, squeezing at your waist while San munches on an energy bar. “You okay?”
His concern seeps warmly through the exhaustion that’s settling in your bones. “Hm. Tired,” you mumble, though you manage a smile. It’s not bad, just more than you expected.
San immediately stretches his arms out to you. “Cuddle,” he pouts bossily; a mutually beneficial demand.
You give into his demand without second thought, happy to snuggle up against his chest (which is no longer stained with bodily fluids after Wooyoung cleaned him with some wet-wipes).
“Better?” San asks, rubbing his nose into your hair.
You giggle at the way San can’t help but take charge again, even if it’s just during the aftercare. “Yeah,” you sigh contently, and give Wooyoung a thankful look when he drapes a blanket over you before joining the cuddle himself.
You drift into a cosy bubble of entangled bodies and lazy chatter, a fuzzy warmth settling in, like you could doze off into sleep any moment. You're tempted to let it take you, to at least get a little nap in before you return to the comfort of your own bed — and really, you can find no reason not to.
Wrapped up in the safety of San and Wooyoung, you let your eyes flutter shut for a while, accompanied by their hushed voices and laughs.
Their voices are still there when you wake again later, along with two hands softly grazing over your arm and waist. You join their talk for a while, sleep-drunk from the nap, but then decide to go sleep for real before your brain wakes up too much. San gives you another pout as you untangle from his hold, while Wooyoung jokingly suggests they come with you, but both are placated when you promise to join them for breakfast tomorrow.
You stick by your promises, padding over to San and Wooyoung’s the next morning in slippers and a comfy bathrobe. It’s just one door away but you still can’t help thinking back on yesterday’s conversation; no longer having to shuffle through the apartment building’s hallway would definitely be an added benefit to a shared home.
Wooyoung is meandering in the kitchen by himself when you come in, no San in sight. You rub your eyes groggily as you look around for him, while joining Wooyoung by the stove. You give him a half back-hug, peeking over his shoulder to identify the origin of tasty smells drifting through their apartment. (Kimchi pancakes and egg dumplings, as it turns out.)
“Hmm, has San left already?” you mumble against Wooyoung’s shoulder. You’ had hoped to see San before work, just to ease that tiny twinge of protectiveness in your chest, to confirm he still felt good after yesterday. “Did he have a good sleep?”
Wooyoung opens his mouth — but before he can get a sound out, you hear the muted sound of the shower turning on from the bathroom.
“He’s here,” Wooyoung says with a sleepy grin, flipping over the pancake effortlessly. He’s wearing an apron, his hair is messily tied up into a half-bun, face slightly puffy from sleep. It’s utterly endearing. He looks away from the pan to glance at you, chuckling when he realises what your question was really about. “San’s doing great,” he assures you. “Way too chipper for this early in the morning, honestly.”
“Good, good,” you hum absentmindedly, nuzzling into Wooyoung’s shoulder. “And you? How are you doing? After last night?”
He blinks in surprise at the question. “Yeah? Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”
You raise an eyebrow, unsatisfied with his vague answer. “…Yeah? We didn’t ambush you too much with the whole thing?”
“Oh, no no!” He quickly shakes his head, but then slows down and sinks into a pensive expression. “Well… No, not an ambush.”
“…But?” you ask, starting to feel uneasy.
Wooyoung chuckles, pinching your cheek. “Hey — don’t stress out, okay? Last night was fucking amazing. I only—”
He sighs and awkwardly rubs the back of his head, before seeming to come to a decision. He slides the crispy pancake onto a preheated plate before turning down the stove, taking a break from cooking. He turns around to lean back against the counter, giving you and the conversation his full attention. You lean next to him, gently bumping your shoulders together.
“In the heat of the moment? No problems. But afterwards, I… I started feeling a little jealous,” Wooyoung says, his face scrunching up as he painstakingly works the admission past his lips. “That you got to tie San up. That he let you tie him up. Not that I ever bothered to ask but…” Wooyoung shrugs, like he’s trying to minimise the emotions behind his words. “…But I never got the feeling San would’ve tried that with just me.
“And I mean, there’s a reason I never asked; it’s not like this is some big secret fantasy I’ve been dying to play out so the whole thing is just stupid to get jealous over, but… yeah. That.”
His ramble trails off awkwardly, but you listened intently to every word, despite struggling a little to take it all in. You did just wake up after all, still shaking off sleep’s lingering hold on your brain. “Wooyoung… It’s not stupid. Not at all,” you say, your hand finding his.
“Sorry,” Wooyoung says with a wry smile, “didn’t mean to dump all that on you before I even got some food in your stomach.”
“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand. “Did you talk to San about this?”
“Oh yeah, Sannie got the late night edition,” Wooyoung chuckles faintly. “But— but the thing is; it was also… nice? Does that even make sense? Like, I loved seeing you two like that together.”
Your brow softens, a pop of warmth bursting in your chest. “You did?”
Wooyoung nods, struggling to meet your eyes. “Yeah. Loved it. I—”
He hesitates again, and you have a sudden suspicion of what sentence he’s hiding behind his lips.
“I love how you took care of him, I love that he let you. Even if it felt complicated. You and San are different than me and San, but… that’s okay, you know? You and me are different too, and I love how we are together,” Wooyoung says, his waterfall of words inching closer and closer to the exact phrasing he is trying to reach.
You swallow thickly, realising what is about to come… and hold tighter onto Wooyoung’s hand, quietly encouraging him.
He glances up tentatively, finally meeting your eyes again — and relaxes into a smile at what he finds there. “Listen,” he continues, a little more confident, “it’s not like I’m interested in what adjective goes before the word. Romantic, platonic, whatever. Who cares. But— but I do love you.”
Wooyoung takes a deep breath, exhaling with audible relief.
“And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, searching your face for any signs of it, “but I also don’t want to lie about this stuff. So… is this okay? Is it okay if I say that? You don’t have to say anything back,” Wooyoung rushes to add. “I know you might not feel the same way. But I’m good with that. I’m good with you liking me in your own way.”
There’s a stubborn lump in your throat that refuses to go away.
You did think those words would make you uncomfortable. You were convinced they would, given your past experiences. You just thought that for Wooyoung, you could sit with that discomfort and let it pass through you. At least this once. But there is no discomfort itching under your skin, no distress pounding in your chest.
Only warmth.
Down to the very core of your being, you know there are no ultimatums hidden behind Wooyoung’s confession. No threat to end things if your response does not meet his expectations, if what you can give him in return isn’t enough. Whatever you’ll say, he has already decided that it is. That you are enough. Just as you are.
“Well… I did tell you to stop assuming I’ll bolt at the tiniest hint of commitment,” you tease, though your voice is a little thick. (Somewhere in the background, you vaguely register that the shower in the bathroom has turned off.)
“You did, yeah,” Wooyoung giggles, lightly elbowing you in the side. His shoulders look much lighter now. “No take backsies.”
You shake your head. “Wasn’t planning on it. Yeah,” you hum. “Yeah, it’s okay if you say that. More than okay. I… I’m happy.”
Wooyoung’s eyes scrunch up as his smile widens. The force of it is breathtaking.
“Is— is this something recent? You haven’t been stressing out about this talk, have you?” you ask, fidgeting a little. You hate the idea that he might’ve been sitting with this for who knows how long.
Wooyoung scoffs a laugh. “What? No way. You know me, right? Bottling up feelings is not my style. I leave that up to you and Sannie.”
You snort at the lighthearted dig, whapping Wooyoung on the arm. “Hey, that’s slander! Blatant character assassination! Who is the one who brought up moving in together?”
“Okay fine, fine, I’ll let you have that one,” he sighs dramatically. “But you gotta admit I’m the load-bearing pillar in this trio. It’s a fate I’ve accepted long ago.”
His dramatics make you laugh, but honestly? There is truth in it. Wooyoung has always been the most pro-active between the three of you, the most forthright about his wants and needs. Hell, Wooyoung might’ve been jealous, but without him, you and San probably wouldn’t have gotten to a place for him to be jealous of.
You’ve always liked San, ever since he moved in next to you, but it was Wooyoung who forcibly dragged you two closer into each others’ orbit. With no Wooyoung, you’d have lived complacently as neighbours, your friendship superficial, until one of you moved out again, never to see each other again. Never sticking your head out to explore what else there could be between you.
The morning hush settles back into the kitchen as you lean against Wooyoung, loosely wrapping your arms around his. “Thank you,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll try to carry my weight more often.”
Wooyoung blinks, a little surprised at your sincere reaction to his joke, but then he softens into a smile and leans back into you. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs back. “But don’t go carrying too much, alright? Can’t have me becoming redundant.”
“Pff, never. Idiot.”
That’s how San walks in to find you and Wooyoung, just living in a moment of quiet. His hair is still damp from the shower, a towel around his shoulders to catch the last few drops clinging to wet tendrils.
San’s eyes lightens up when he sees you’re here, quickly walking over joining you. He briefly raises an eyebrow when he notes the one singular pancake that’s getting cold, but decides to ignore it, leaning against the kitchen counter next to Wooyoung instead. He drapes an arm over Wooyoung’s shoulder, his warm hand coming to rest high between your shoulder-blades.
“So,” San says, a cute little smile tugging on his lips as he looks at Wooyoung. “You talked to her? Said what you wanted to say?”
Wooyoung grins back at him. “Yeah. We talked.”
“Good,” San says softly, his fingers trailing up to knead the nape of your neck. “That’s really good.”
Wooyoung lets out a loud sigh, shaking his head. “You know what isn’t good?” he says, looking from you to San. “That we’re all standing around here getting hungry. C’mon, get off me, let me get to it. Someone has to keep you two fed.”
He abruptly shakes himself loose and turns back to his pancake better, causing you and San to make noises of surprise — but then you grin mischievously at the sight of him diligently making breakfast for three. “See? That’s why you’ll never be redundant. Indispensable, that’s what you are.”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Helpless without me, that’s what you are,” he shoots back, but the the corners of his mouth are fighting a losing battle against the wide, shy smile creeping up his lips.
You catch San’s eye while Wooyoung continues his cooking, suddenly feeling oddly shy. “You had a good sleep?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, struck by the same shyness. “Really good.”
A faint heat creeps under your skin as you reminisce on last night’s events; the trust San showed in you, the sight of him tied up on the bed, helpless while you and Wooyoung ravished him, how noisy he’d gotten—
Oh. Noise.
A whole other sort of heat flushes through you when a different memory of yesterday floods through your system. “D-do you think we ought to send Mrs Yoon flowers or something?” you say, grimacing at San. “Fruit basket? Chocolates?”
San’s drowsy smile is knocked right off his face as he freezes, cheeks going crimson with embarrassment. “Oh god,” he groans, hiding his face behind his hand. “Y-yeah. Maybe we should.”
Wooyoung takes his attention off the pan, blinking at you and San in confusion. “Hm? Mrs Yoon? What about her?” he says, blissfully oblivious. “Is she sick? I can get her some flowers from work, sure. Do we need to write her a card too?”
hello sweet people, life has not been very kind & i will def miss my own self-imposed deadline of updating whiway at least once every 4 weeks again T_T to tide you over & try to ease my own frustration, pls accept the first ~400 words of the next chapter as a lil teaser (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)
warnings: silly domestic fluff, San is a cutiepie, joking abt bondage
“Pick me, I’m tasty!” the little raccoon dog mascot on the instant noodles package says to you, in an adorably pitchy sing-song voice. San pokes his face out from behind the package, his open-mouthed smile so bright and wide he almost looks like a cartoon character himself.
You giggle at San’s antics, though you ignore the packet in his hands and reach for a different one from the store’s shelves. “Cute! But no; this is the one Wooyoung asked for,” you say, holding up the extra spicy variant.
“That’s what Wooyoung asked for, yes,” San pouts, reverting to his normal voice, “but he always steals mine and leaves the hot ones for me. He can buy them himself if he wants them, I’m not doing this anymore! My mouth has burned enough.”
“Fine fine, this is between you and Wooyoung,” you laugh at San’s impassioned speech. “I’m telling him it’s your fault if he complains. This is a lovers’ quarrel I’m not getting involved in!”
And so only the mildest of instant noodles end up in your cart before you go through the rest of the store. The separation between your groceries and those of San and Wooyoung grows blurrier with every trip; Wooyoung didn’t even ask if you were joining them for dinner, only how you felt about beef bibimbap for tonight.
It’s busy at the store today, meaning there’s a bit of a line for the cash registry. Bored by the wait, San toys with the strings of his hoodie. He fiddles with them for a while, then pulls the strings taut until the hoodie hides all but a glimpse of his face, his nose peeking out along with a tiny feline grin on his lips.
At first you just fondly watched him — but now you can’t resist temptation. You steal the strings away from San to tie them into a tight knot, trapping him in his hoodie.
“Ack!” San yelps, startled and pawing at your hands to get back control of the strings.
Giggling, you take mercy on him and undo the knot again. “Sorry, guess I’m in the mood to practice a little more ropework today,” you joke, taking off San’s hood and fixing a few upright tufts of his hair.
“Oh, are you now?” he says, his indignant sulk only tempting you to do it again. “Starting to regret I taught you anything at all. You have way too much power now.”
“The power of tying a simple knot?!” you laugh. “Don’t take too much credit, mister, I didn’t need you to teach me that one!”
ch. summary: Wooyoung assures you that you don’t have to worry about San after his drop. San proves him right.
wc: 10.6k
ch. warnings: bratty duo Wooyoung & reader, brat tamer San, threesome, phone sex (kindof???), nudes, overstimulation, edging, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, pussy slap, cumming in pants, degradation (@ Wooyoung), dumbification (@ reader), rough sex, spanking, choking, panties as a makeshift gag & light bondage (@ Wooyoung), condomless sex w/ an IUD, voyeurism/exhibitionism-ish, anal fingering / sex between Woosan, safe word checks; ‘green’ & ‘yellow’ are used, aftercare, mention of jerking off in a public bathroom, nicknames for reader (‘baby’, ‘good girl’, ‘sweetheart’)
a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.
You didn’t expect many things to change now that Wooyoung has moved in with San and ‘officially’ is your next-door neighbour. He’d been over all the time anyway, spending more nights at San’s than in his own bed. Really, what difference could it make?
Quite a difference, apparently.
Before, Wooyoung felt perfectly comfortable to treat San’s place like his own. But now that San’s apartment is Wooyoung’s apartment too, his habit of ‘treating places like his own’ has transferred over to yours.
You’d blinked in surprise the first time Wooyoung just let himself inside and plopped down on your couch to play games on his phone. (Your couch is more comfortable, had been his explanation. You really can’t dispute that claim. It is.) But you hadn’t kicked him out, and Wooyoung correctly interpreted that as permission to invite himself back in any time.
Sometimes he shows up because San isn’t home. Sometimes San comes along. And sometimes, San just chills back at his own apartment while Wooyoung hangs out with you.
(San doesn’t seem to mind this, though one time he did suspiciously start bombing the groupchat with selfies and messages right after Wooyoung stepped through your doorway. Wooyoung had just rolled his eyes and ignored it; apparently San had been playing video games and literally groused at Wooyoung to ‘not distract him when he’s busy’.
“Serves him right,” Wooyoung had declared, and cackled a laugh when you asked him if they were actually bickering or if this was just foreplay again. “Probably foreplay,” he’d admitted, and you got a definitive answer later, when faint whines drifted through the shared wall after Wooyoung had gone back to San. Good for him!)
Wooyoung doesn’t crash your place constantly or anything like that; but the realisation does quickly sink in that by moving in with San, Wooyoung also moved in closer to you, almost treating the two apartments like one singular unit.
Damn, no wonder he’d made a point of asking if you were alright with it all!
Most of the time, Wooyoung is more than welcome — but one unannounced visit did prompt a conversation about the concept of ‘alone time’, and your occasional need for it. The timing had just been bad on both sides; you and Wooyoung were each worn out from exhaustion, a perfect breeding ground to spark tension. Wooyoung had taken your need for distance as a personal rejection and, to be fair, your tiredness had made you a little short with him.
However, this time you’d worked through it together, not needing San’s intervention to talk and hug it out.
Together you’d agreed on a better communication cue for Wooyoung to turn his ass around and go back home when necessary, and you’d reassured him he was more than welcome on most days; it wasn’t a reflection on him personally. With that, you could happily go back to enjoying this big shift in your life.
And a big shift it definitely is. Sure, San also dropped by unannounced sometimes, but not as often as Wooyoung.
Not because San is distant with you; far from it. His apartment had simply turned into the usual meeting point to hang out — plus, he’s more of a homebody at heart. Unlike Wooyoung, San doesn’t often feel the urge to leave his natural habitat unless outside forces persuade him to. He’s not pressed about the time Wooyoung spends over at your place; maybe even enjoys having an occasional quiet moment to himself.
…However, San did get pressed about something else; your regular grocery runs together.
After Wooyoung moved in, San got lowkey possessive of this chore you’ve always done together. He even went into a jealous sulk when you and Wooyoung went to the store one time without telling him. You’d felt a combination of surprised, flattered and slightly annoyed at his moody reaction, which seemed a little overblown to you.
It had prompted another conversation about the new living situation; and you were embarrassed to realise how badly you’d underestimated San’s attachment to sharing the simple, domestic chore with you. A swift reconciliation followed, along with more hugs.
Yes, there have been a few bumped heads, also between San and Wooyoung, but the sting always fades quickly. They’re nothing but small growing pains while you settle into this new normal. Growing pains just means there’s growth, San pointed out, and though Wooyoung teased him for his simplistic conclusion, you agree with San.
But on this particular evening, there are no growing pains.
Just you enjoying the new normal of Wooyoung lounging on your couch, while San is out with some old schoolmates. Wooyoung is on his phone, keeping you company while you catch up on one of your shows — to which he only half-pays attention and then gets miffed when he doesn’t understand the plot.
“I’m just saying, I don’t get why they’re suddenly all buddy-buddy! It doesn’t make sense!”
“Oh my god, Woo, you don’t get to complain if you don’t actually bother to watch!” you groan, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “Seriously, you’re lucky you’re cute or I’d kick you out of the house. Let me watch in peace, alright?”
“I wasn’t complaining,” Wooyoung complains. “I was just asking. They were at each others’ throats like two seconds ago!”
“You’re hopeless,” you sigh with a shake of your head, then pause the episode so you can take a bathroom break. It’s not like you can focus when Wooyoung pelts you with questions every five minutes anyway.
By the time you get back, Wooyoung has thrown his phone aside and is dramatically slouched across the couch. He lets out a huge, bored sigh when you return, looking up at you with a long-suffering gaze.
“Hey,” he says when he catches your eye, “can I eat you out?”
“What? Now??” You splutter out a laugh at the utterly serious expression on his face. “Is this because I said you’re cute? Positive enforcement to trick me into giving you more compliments?”
“Come ooonnnnn,” Wooyoung groans, letting his head fall back against the cushions. “It’s been ages since I last got to do it, and I’m so fucking bored.”
“Oh, so the pleasure of my company is not enough to keep you entertained?”
“Eh. Would be more entertained by the pleasure of your pu—”
“Alright, alright!” you laugh. Fair enough; you stepped right into that one.
You plop down on the couch, in a corner spot not taken up by Wooyoung’s sprawled limbs, then shoot him another look.
“…Seriously? You want to? Without San?”
It’s not without precedent for you to fool around with one of the guys without the other, but still extremely rare; and usually it’s just a little foreplay or prep while waiting for the other to join. (Plus that one time when San put Wooyoung on a sex ban after bratting too close to the sun. That’d been a fun week.)
“Without San, yeah. Or…” Wooyoung says, “we could call him, give him that excuse he wanted to come home early.”
You snort. “Don’t think this is what he had in mind.”
(San hadn’t been all that excited about going out with his old mates from school, an invitation accepted out of politeness — but he’d declined the offer from you and Wooyoung to come with. “Might need you to create an excuse for me to leave early. Phone in an emergency or something,” he’d said. Though you suppose that ‘Wooyoung was hungry for pussy’ could count as an emergency, at least in Wooyoung’s eyes.)
“That’s what makes it fun, right?” Wooyoung says, grinning widely at you. “We can get Sannie all nice and riled up. Might even get him to punish us for starting without him, if we play our cards right.”
That’s where you hesitate. Goad San into punishing you?
Wooyoung notices, and sits up next to give you a thoughtful look-over. You roll your eyes at his scrutiny, suddenly self-conscious.
“So…” he says slowly, “can’t help but notice you’ve been on your best behaviour for San ever since I moved in.” He leaves room for a meaningful pause. “Ever since he dropped.”
“I’m always on my best behaviour,” you huff defensively. “You’re the brat around here, not me.”
Wooyoung snorts. “You aren’t always. Don’t pretend you don’t ever get up to trouble.”
…Fair point. You usually lean towards the ‘good girl’ end of the submissive spectrum, but there have been plenty occasions where you were a happy accomplice to Wooyoung’s mischief, or even initiated some of your own.
“Okay, so what’s going on?” Wooyoung asks. “You nervous about pushing San too far?”
A ‘no’ bubbles up instinctively, but you manage to swallow it down and give the question some honest thought. Are you nervous?
“There just hasn’t been an opportunity,” your surface thoughts argue.
That is true, sort of. Between the chaos of Wooyoung’s move into San’s apartment and you having a busy time at work, your sex life isn’t exactly super active. Not non-existent either, but you’ve focused more on the casual hang-outs, just spending time together while everything around you settles down.
Yes, your surface thoughts have a point — but it only takes one cursory glance underneath them to find the vivid memory of holding a trembling San in your arms.
“Okay, you’re right, I’m a bit worried about that,” you admit quietly. “He… San looked so small, Wooyoung. I don’t want him ever feeling like that again.”
Wooyoung puts his hand on your thigh, gently scritching his fingertips over your jeans. “I don’t want him to, either,” he says with a wan smile. “But—”
“Yeah yeah, listen I know it’s stupid,” you interrupt him, sighing in frustration. “I know I’d be pissed off if San suddenly stopped spanking me or whatever just because my brain bullied me about it one time.” You know Wooyoung has been bratty at San since then and San has happily tamed him down, so why the hell do you feel this resistance?
Wooyoung fights down a laugh at your rant, balling his fist in front of his mouth. “It’s a little stupid, yeah!”
You whap a hand against his shoulder, though you can’t help but laugh with him. “Hey, you aren’t supposed to agree with me!”
“What am I supposed to say then!?”
“You are supposed to tell me, ‘no, it’s not stupid, but San is a grown-ass man and he is fully capable of telling us himself if he can’t or doesn’t want to go that hard with domming us anymore’!”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s pretend I said that.”
You give Wooyoung a heavy side-eye; he grins back at you — and after a long beat of silence, together you burst out in a light bout of giggles.
“Sorry I’m making this way more difficult than it needs to be,” you apologise, still laughing a little. “I’m into the idea, I really am, it’s just…”
“Just gotta get past the hurdle. I get it,” Wooyoung says, and from the soft furrow between his eyes you know he really does get it. His hand squeezes your knee. “Listen, if I know San at all,” he says (and he does know San pretty damn well), “the two of us will have some fun getting him worked up, which means he gets to have fun punishing us for it, which means we all end up having fun together. How’s that sound to you?”
“Sounds… fun,” you say, relaxing into a grin. There isn’t much room to argue with the way Wooyoung has laid it out to you.
He bites his lip, a dark shine in his eyes. “Then sit back and let me get my mouth on that sweet pussy already.”
Again, he leaves no room to argue.
So before you know it, you are sitting back on the couch and Wooyoung is well underway to getting his mouth exactly where he wants it.
You draw shallow breaths as you look down on Wooyoung, who sits on a pillow between your legs. You’d braced for him to descend on you in a frenzy — but Wooyoung has a quiet focus on his face as he slowly rubs over your inner thighs through your joggers, like he is matching up reality to his memories.
He squeezes firmly, molding the soft meat to the shape of his hands, and you let out a soft whine as Wooyoung’s patience quickly wears down yours. You tilt your hips up in an unsubtle demand, causing Wooyoung’s concentration to break with a grin.
“Oh? Look who’s in a rush to get eaten out now,” he rasps. His thumbs brush just shy of your cunt, which is stirring to life rapidly. “After all that grief you gave me about it too, ch.”
Wooyoung playfully tsks his tongue at you, the crooked curve of his lips only working you up more. It doesn’t help either that he’s half naked, wearing just his baggy shorts; Wooyoung had nobly sacrificed his hoodie for you to sit on when you made a half-hearted point about ruining your couch. Honestly, you don’t know if it’ll do much good; already you can feel a sticky wetness between your legs and he hasn’t even fucking touched you. Like Wooyoung said; it’s been a while, and your vagina is being very dramatic about how lonely she’s been without the company of his mouth.
“Just fucking get on with it,” you say, the power of your demand nullified by the breathlessness in your voice. “We gotta rescue San from his social obligations, don’t we?”
“Ahh yes, that’s why we’re doing this,” Wooyoung giggles, but he still obliges and tugs down your sweats.
You’re about to protest again when he leaves your underwear on, just basic cotton panties with no sex appeal whatsoever — but they do something for Wooyoung all the same, and your complaint melts away under the heated, hungry look in his eyes.
Wooyoung’s torturously slow pace has been driving you up the wall, yet you let out a startled squeak when suddenly he dives in, his face pressed against your clothed cunt.
“Fuck, but I missed this pussy,” he grunts lowly, then laps a thick stripe over the damp spot already forming in your panties before suctioning his mouth over the fabric, eerily close to your clit.
You suck in a sharp breath, hands flying into Wooyoung’s hair to tug him a little higher. He lets himself be guided without resistance, apparently no longer in the mood to tease. You’ve been with a few avid puss appreciatiors in the past, but none of them hold a candle to Wooyoung, who truly gets as much out of this as you do.
Through the barrier of your panties, his teeth graze over your clit. Sharp sucks and indirect bites soon have your thighs trembling, your underwear soggy with arousal and Wooyoung’s saliva.
“Missed this pussy,” he groans again, thumbing at the drenched strip of cotton — and completely knocking you off balance with what he says next. “Missed making you feel good…”
“Hm— hmh, Woo—”
You know it’s not that deep, that it’s just rambles from Wooyoung already getting tipsy on your clothed cunt; still the urge bubbles up to say something, to tell Wooyoung how good he makes you feel every damn single day. Just by being in the same room as you, by hanging out on your couch or sending you photos he’s proud of, by texting to ask if you’ve eaten yet. But you can’t get a single word out, all coherency stolen from your lips as Wooyoung pulls your panties aside and latches directly onto your clit.
Making up for lost time, Wooyoung aggressively reacquaints himself with your leaking pussy. You whine as his lips suction around your clit, giving the already swollen nub a quick nibble before his tongue swirls and flicks. He slurps noisily against your cunt until your hips start to jerk, and you realise with alarm that you’re about to cum, just like that.
“Fuck, Wooyoung…” You swear under your breath, arching into his mouth — only for Wooyoung to pull back for soft swipes at your folds.
You groan as the build-up fizzles out into a light burn, and slump into the couch.
“Seriously?” you grumble, giving Wooyoung’s hair a firm tug to make your dissatisfaction known. He just lets out a muffled chuckle, filling your apartment with lewd wet noises as he kisses and suckles at your sodden folds, gentle but thorough.
However, his abrupt slowdown does give your head a chance to clear up, and something occurs to you.
“H-hey, Wooyoung?”
“Hm?”
“Not that this isn’t great, but weren’t we supposed to rile San up?” You’d expected Wooyoung to be on his phone already to let San know what he’s missing out on. But instead, the phone lies right next to you on the couch, ignored in favour of feasting on your cunt.
“Hm.” Wooyoung lifts his head, grinning up at you with glazed lips. “Then we gotta give him something to get riled up about, don’t we?”
“Starting to think I’m the one you’re trying to get— f-fuck, ah Woo—!”
Wooyoung’s nose bumps right into your clit as his tongue thrusts inside your drenched hole, plunging as deep as he can reach. You feel his lips stretch into a grin when you immediately rock into him, his breathy laugh falling coolly against your wet heat. You pull harder at Wooyoung’s hair and a whine shudders through him, freely letting you dictate his pace as you grind on his nose.
You find yourself back on the edge within a flash, whimpering and squirming now that Wooyoung has stopped his teasing. He is fully dedicated to tipping you over, groaning against your cunt as he tongue-fucks you with unruly abandon; less about technique, and more about pure, uncontrolled voracity.
Your breath comes in sharp hitches as Wooyoung somehow pushes even harder into you, the beautiful hook of his nose sparking electricity through your core. He moans eagerly as you start to clench around his tongue, his shoulders preventing your thighs from clamping shut as tendrils of heat coil in your abdomen.
You can tell it’s going to be an intense one even before it hits you. “F-fuck, Wooyoung,” you whimper, rocking into his face, “Woo, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop, ahh fuck fuck fuck—”
He does not stop.
Wooyoung’s eyebrows knit in pleasure as you coat his tongue and chin with your slick. He pulls back from fucking your cunt to suck on your clit, firm pressure that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your toes curl, body seizing up with every long, hard aftershock; one so intense that you’re not entirely sure if you just came twice.
Reluctantly, Wooyoung parts from your cunt when you push him away with a weak whimper. He grins at you, dark eyes sparkling and his face covered by a glossy shine from the nose down.
He ignores your whine when finally tugs off your ruined panties, then uses two fingers to spread your lower lips wide open. His grin sharpens at the sight.
“Now there is a view that’ll get San going,” Wooyoung says, decadently licking his lips. “All pretty and puffed up, and all for me.”
(The possessive streak sends a weak jolt through your hypersensitive pussy.)
Finally he grabs his phone, and raises it up to you in silent question. You nod quietly; no further words are needed to understand his intentions.
You’re still catching your breath; a challenge when Wooyoung is lining up a shot with his cameraphone. It’s hardly the first time he has taken nudes of you, but there’s just always a look of intense focus in Wooyoung’s eyes whenever he handles a camera — especially when it’s pointed straight at your glistening cunt.
(“She’s just so photogenic!” Wooyoung once claimed, fondly patting his beloved model before he took another shot.)
“You’re such a fucking dork,” you giggle when, even now, Wooyoung takes a moment to consider the angle.
“Artist! I’m an artist!” Wooyoung objects loudly, flicking your clit in retaliation. “Gotta do justice to this masterpiece, don’t I?”
With that, Wooyoung snaps his photo — but he does not send it to San right away. Instead he starts texting, mumbling out the words as he’s typing. “Dining… out… at our neighbour’s………… oyster bar.”
You bite down a laugh at his phrasing. “Pretty sad excuse for a bar if they only have one oyster!” you tease, but can’t fight down the giggle when Wooyoung shows you the text; a cheeky 🦪💦👅 added at the end.
“Quality over quantity any day, sweetheart,” Wooyoung winks, then sends the text.
Now there is nothing you can do except wait.
Well. Not nothing. Wooyoung wipes his face and gets up from his knees, then unceremoniously presses your legs together so he can make himself comfortable on your lap. Your various states of undress are like mismatching puzzle pieces; lined up all wrong with Wooyoung’s bare chest and you naked from the waist down — but you don’t get a chance to fix this discrepancy before his phone starts buzzing.
“You aren’t gonna answer that?” you ask, a little breathy as Wooyoung slowly leans in for a kiss.
He makes a noise that seems to mean ‘not yet’, focused on first giving you a faint taste of yourself with lazy swipes of his tongue. You clutch onto his waist with a moan, parting your lips for him while San is forced to wait. Wooyoung grinds into your lap, his already hard dick pressed against your stomach as his tongue flicks against the roof of your mouth, then tangles with yours.
It can’t have been too long before he pulls away — the phone is still buzzing — but it feels like eons, leaving you in a slight daze when Wooyoung finally answers San’s call and puts him on speaker.
“What the hell guys,” San mopes, his pout audible through the phone. There’s muted music in the background; mostly bass-tones, like it’s coming through a wall. “Without me?”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung says simply — and hangs up.
“Wha—” You blink at Wooyoung in surprise but he just shrugs, an undertone of sass to the casual gesture. Using his free hand, he slides down between your bodies, pressing two fingers solidly against your clit. You hiss at the sudden stimulation, though you’ve recovered enough to be able to take it. “You — hmnm — you think he’s gonna call back?”
Wooyoung’s lips curve up into a fiendish grin. “He will, if he wants to.”
San does want to.
Almost immediately, Wooyoung’s phone buzzes again. This time, Wooyoung doesn’t make him wait as long. “Where are you?” he asks before San has a chance to speak up.
“Bathroom stall,” San says. “You really couldn’t wait until—?”
“Great! Just jerk off in there if you wanna join in so bad,” Wooyoung says cheerfully, pinching your clit just hard enough to draw a loud whine from you.
San groans at the sound. “Seriously? Someone could walk in here, I don’t—” but he can’t finish. Wooyoung has hung up on San again; and now sends him the picture of your swollen pussy, lewdly dripping with slick and saliva.
The wait is slightly longer this time.
For a second you wonder if your plan has gone awry; San might have taken Wooyoung’s suggestion to just get it on with Rosie Palms out there. Still, your moans lilt a little higher at the thought of San getting himself off on nothing but a picture of your cunt; maybe he’d take a nude of his own, hand wrapped around his flushed cock in a dirty bathroom stall. (A video even, if you would be so lucky.)
However, the plan proves to still be on track when a phone buzzes again; yours.
You pick it up with a shaky hand, shamelessly moaning as Wooyoung toys with your sensitive cunt. You barely have to play up your reactions; sure, the goal of all this is to provoke San, but it definitely works out for you too.
San lets out an exasperated sigh at the pornographic noises that greet him, though there is an obvious tightness to his voice. “You two are unbelievable,” he groans. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
Well. Duh.
“J-just, hmn, just get your ass over here if you — ahh Woo… — if you’re that upset about missing out,” you manage to gasp out between moans.
“Yeah,” Wooyoung agrees, playfully smacking your clit, “we can’t always wait around for you, you know.”
You hang up on San mid-whine, and drop your phone onto the couch.
Wooyoung grins proudly at how easily you slid into the role of his bratty partner-in-crime. “Now,” he says, “don’t tell me that wasn’t fun.”
“Yeah,” you happily admit. “Definitely fun.”
You and Wooyoung ignore San’s next call completely, too distracted by making out again; and then you leave San on read when he sends “heading back now” to the groupchat.
“Come, bedroom,” Wooyoung mumbles against your mouth, barely breaking away from the kiss as he gets up on his feet and pulls you with him. “Don’t wanna ruin my knees before San gets back, and I plan to spend every second until then between your thighs. Let’s get comfortable, alright?”
“A-alright,” you gasp, letting yourself get pulled along. “Um… how long should it take him?”
Wooyoung shrugs. “Eh, like fifteen or sixty minutes? Something like that. He wasn’t sure where they’d go.”
Alarm shoots through you. “Wooyoung?! That’s a wide range of time!” Your body is still on edge — could you handle him for a whole fucking hour, while San can come in at any moment? An aggravated San, who has all that time to plan how he will punish you and Wooyoung.
But Wooyoung just ushers you onto the bed, yanking off your shirt and hurriedly disposing of your bra.
“You don’t want to? I’ll be nice, promise,” he purrs, a deep hungry rasp in his voice. His face is partially shadowed as he hovers over you, but his gleaming eyes are unmistakably pinned on yours. “Just want to get another taste before Sannie gets here… Might be our last chance for a while, if we got him real worked up.”
You swallow thickly at the thought; you’ve successfully appealed to San’s soft side as a dom in the past — but after you and Wooyoung hung up on him three times? You wouldn’t put it past him to take oral off the table for a while, maybe sex entirely.
“Y-yeah no, okay. Yeah, let’s do it,” you say, nodding shakily. Might as well take what you can still get.
Wooyoung bites his lip, pleased with your quick response. “Good,” he murmurs, slowly shifting down the bed with a wicked smile like he’s already forgotten his promise to be nice.
While by no means small, your bed is not quite as large as San’s, so it takes slightly more manoeuvring to get the both of you comfortable. But soon enough Wooyoung has his arms wrapped around your thighs, spreading you open once again for your pleasure and his own.
Sometime over the next ten to fifty-five minutes, the world melts into a blurry haze.
True to his concerns, Wooyoung feasts on you with the frantic urgency of a man who might never get to taste his favourite meal ever again. You writhe under his plump lips and sloppy tongue, gasping at his unrelenting enthusiasm. Wooyoung only slows down when he has to catch his breath, but even then he leaves sweet pecks and nibbles on your plush thighs and the fold of your stomach.
And then he is back, laving your twitching cunt with undivided attention like he’s forgotten about all San entirely, not a care in the world as he laps and strokes and nips at you until your back arches and your moans grow higher and louder until no more sound escapes your throat at all.
You’re on fire, lava pouring through your veins and liquefying your bones from the inside out. You lost count of all the times Wooyoung teased you right up against that edge only to pull back, and you can do nothing but lay there and take his endless edging when he curls three fingers deep inside your aching cunt, moaning around your clit.
Wooyoung ruts against the mattress, harder and faster when he feels you tighten again, until he suddenly groans and shudders, slowing down to a lazy grind — and you realise with a start that Wooyoung has cum in his shorts, just from grinding and eating you out.
Now he’s gotten his own release, Wooyoung is finally gracious enough to stop withholding yours. He babbles against your slit but the words are too muffled to hear, letting you only catch a hoarse “so good” and “fucking drown”. His wrist snaps harshly as he finger-fucks you, lips smacking as he goes back to sucking on your clit, obscenely wet noises filling your bedroom. You can’t fight it. You can’t do anything. Only surrender to the maelstrom that pulls you under, dragging you down to the depths of another forceful climax, pleasure cresting slowly, inescapable, until you bite down sobs and whimpers from its intensity washing over you.
Your body trembles, trying to escape and pull back up for air — but Wooyoung holds you down, and you mewl as you get overwhelmed again. The needling overstimulation is too much this time, refusing to recede. Weakly you try to squirm away from Wooyoung’s mouth, pushing at his head.
“N-nno wait, stop, Woo, too much— Y-yel—”
Before the colour can fully pass your lips, Wooyoung already peeks up from your abused cunt. “Stop? You need a timeout?”
You nod shakily, gasping for air. “Y-yeah. Timeout.”
Wooyoung hums in acknowledgement, slowly crawling up your body. He leaves sticky, open-mouthed kisses on your skin, just a soft brush of his lips. Hips, stomach, the underside of your breast, until he can’t help but linger at a stiff nipple.
“How about this?” he mumbles, gently sucking at the pert nub. “This alright?”
“Hm,” you moan out, weakly slinging an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders.
He chuckles at your fucked-out state, nuzzling into the valley between your breasts. “I’m too much for you too handle, huh?” he teases before lightly mouthing at your nipple again.
The gentle stimulation feels good, giving you a chance to come down at your leisure without tumbling into freefall. Slowly, you relax under Wooyoung’s soft attentions.
“Ohh, I’m gonna be in trouble once San gets here,” you sigh, though you don’t regret a moment of it. “Fuck, that was a lot.”
“Sorry,” Wooyoung chuckles — and though his grin is not the least apologetic, the soothing brush of his fingers over your waist is. “I’ll try to draw most of his ire, alright?”
“Pff, how selfless of you,” you drawl, rolling your eyes. Like Wooyoung wouldn’t happily take most of San’s ire any day.
“Hey, anything for my best girl,” Wooyoung says with a cheeky wink. “Soooo,” he continues, eyeing your calmed state, “can I finish my meal? I’m still hungry, you know.”
“Oh my god!” you laugh, whapping him on the shoulder. “You’re messing with me, right? You have to be messing with me.”
“Only if your answer is no.” Wooyoung shifts just enough that you can feel him pressed against your thigh, already half-hard again.
You groan, head falling back. “You’re fucking insatiable, you monster.”
“Isn’t it great! Also, not hearing a ‘no’ in there.”
“No,” a new voice suddenly interrupts. “You don’t get to finish your meal, Wooyoung.”
Startled, you fling upright so quick that your chin almost knocks against Wooyoung’s forehead. Even though you knew he was coming, somehow the figure at the open doorway still surprises you.
San.
Leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a dark, displeased expression on his face that is completely at odds with the friendly knitted brown sweater he’s wearing. How the hell had you not heard him come in? His eyes are narrow and sharp, thunder crackling behind them.
“Get off her, Wooyoung,” San says in a near growl, sharply jutting his chin to the side. “Let me see what you’ve been doing.”
Wooyoung scrambles off you at once, just as caught off guard by San’s sudden appearance as you.
San saunters over to the bed, his pace unhurried. There’s something in his hand, you realise, but you can’t make out what it is before he grabs one of your legs and yanks you closer to the edge of the bed, making you fall back onto the mattress with a startled yelp.
Your breath catches as San coolly inspects your cunt, his tongue pressing into his cheek in agitation. “Hm, Wooyoung sure had his fill of you, didn’t he?”
“S-sensitive,” you whine as two rough fingers delve through the slick mess between your folds.
San rolls his eyes — and slaps you right on the clit. Not at full strength but enough to make you jolt against his hand, mewling at the sharp impact. He continues his inspection, but then his eyebrow raises in mild surprise at a realisation. “He didn’t fuck you?” San asks, giving you a piercing look.
“No, I—”
“Shut up, Woo. Not talking to you,” San says, his voice stony.
Wooyoung just scoffs, unintimidated. (Couldn’t be you.) “Don’t ask questions if you don’t want answers, Sannie.”
San’s eyes snap to him, now full-on blazing with impending retribution. He gives Wooyoung the same examining look as you; and takes notice of the crusted stain in the crotch of Wooyoung’s baggy shorts. San’s lips curl into a mocking imitation of a smile. “Ahhh… So that’s why you didn’t fuck her. Couldn’t make it that far. Not surprised, you always are a quick climber.”
“That’s not what happen—” Wooyoung bristles, but San is on him within the blink of an eye. He grabs Wooyoung harshly by the jaw, thumb and forefinger digging into his cheeks.
Now that the harsh intensity of his attention is not directly on you, it’s easier to take full stock of San’s appearance. There’s that stormy look in his eyes, the tightness in his jaw — but his shoulders are relaxed, his posture brimming with confidence.
San is thriving, right in his element; he enjoys this.
“Yeah, didn’t expect you to follow any orders today,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Good thing I can just shut you up myself.” He lifts up his other hand, and you finally realise what he’s holding onto.
Your dirty panties.
Carelessly left behind on your couch, now bunched into a tight ball in San’s fist.
San gives them a contemplative look, never relaxing his grip on Wooyoung’s face. He takes a slow, deep sniff of the stained cotton, then holds up the ball in front of Wooyoung, waiting one deliberate beat to give him a chance to object. But Wooyoung stubbornly holds San’s gaze, only groaning when the soiled ball of underwear is forced past his lips as a makeshift gag, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
Wooyoung’s jaw shifts as he lets out a muffled noise, already saliva pooling around the fabric as he struggles to take the gag. San just watches in heated silence, a satisfied glint in his eyes.
“I have to assume you won’t listen either if I tell you not to touch yourself,” he scoffs, and yanks Wooyoung’s hands behind his back. San grabs for your discarded shirt, an improvised but effective tool to tie Wooyoung’s wrists together.
Wooyoung moans around the gag, squirming against his bindings as he looks up at San with big, gleaming eyes.
San tuts at the desperation on display, running a condescendingly sweet hand through Wooyoung’s hair. “Show me the signal,” he orders, and pats Wooyoung’s cheek in approval when he lets out three sharp grunts in a rhythmic interval. “Good. Now just sit and watch until I feel like dealing with you.”
Tied up and gagged, Wooyoung now has no choice but to obey.
You might as well be tied up too, the way you’re frozen in place as you watch, wide-eyed. Your breath hitches when San sharply turns his head to look at you, heat crackling through him.
“Hands and knees. Now.”
Whatever held you in place before is shattered by San’s order, your body already moving before your mind gets a say in the matter.
You scramble onto your hands and knees as told, anticipation shivering through you. You can see Wooyoung from the corner of your eyes — but San is fully hidden from view as you wait with baited breath.
You whine lightly when a warm hand rubs over the curve of your rear, perched in the air, and you instinctively push back into the touch.
San tsks at your body’s eagerness, equal parts amusement and derision, and he squeezes at the soft meat of your ass. You shudder, bracing for the flat of his hand to strike, to have its impact leave a divine searing ache behind.
The expected hit does not come. Instead, San gropes your thighs and forces them further apart — and buries his face right in your leaking cunt. He groans as he breathes in deep, just like he’d smelled your panties earlier, this time straight from the source.
You gasp at the sudden press of his mouth against your puffy, tender clit, your elbows buckling as you fall onto your forearms; inadvertently arching your back to provide San with even better access. He makes good use of it, his hot tongue sweeping greedily at your slick.
“Hngh, San— wait—” you moan, unprepared for the assault on your sore cunt.
“‘Wait’?” he growls, a muffled vibration through your core. “You two could hardly wait for me, could you? You let Wooyoung eat that pussy all day but not a drop for me? I didn’t fucking think so. No, baby, you’ll take it.”
He sucks harshly at your clit, moaning as more arousal gushes forth. His nose presses at your weeping hole, his fingers digging mercilessly into your ass.
“You’ll take it all,” San groans again. “How many times did he make you cum, baby? You owe me that many at least.”
“N-no— Can’t, Sannie— Hmm—” You whine, trying to pull away from his ravenous mouth. “’S too much, I can’t—”
San yanks at your hips, his fingers like steel bindings as he keeps you in place, giving you no chance of escape. Sharp teeth nip at your clit in warning.
“What did I fucking say?” he snaps. “Too much? Not my problem. I’m not settling for Woo’s leftovers, so you’ll give me a nice, fresh taste of that sweet slick. We’ll work out the number later. For now, I don’t want to hear another damn sound from that bratty mouth unless it’s a safeword, understood?”
You whine in confirmation — but now San does smack your ass, his lingering handprint throbbing warmly in your skin.
“Not. Another. Sound. Are we clear?”
Fuck. You bury your face in the sheets, desperately stifling another moan.
“That’s right,” San says coldly, kneading at the struck cheek. Then he is back on you, grabbing at your ass as he reintroduces your clit to his lips.
You cry out; immediately earning yourself another spank. Your fingers tear at the bed, scrambling for something to hold onto until you manage to clutch onto a pillow and press it to your face. It’s easier to muffle yourself this way, and you need all the help you can get.
Where Wooyoung had been teasing and edging you endlessly, San has no patience for that. He’s pushing hard and fast, smacking your ass every time you get a little too loud to his liking — which happens more and more as he forcibly drags you closer to his desired orgasm, leaving your skin beautifully sore and glowing with heat. The ruthless intensity of San in a mood like this is impossible to withstand, your vocal cords helpless before the punishment of his lips and tongue and hands.
Soon you are openly grinding back on San’s face, sobbing into the pillow and teething at the corner as drool saturates the cover. You can just barely see Wooyoung through blurred vision, squirming and whining against his gag and bound wrists.
Your jaw goes slack as San mouths sloppily at your clit, his nose rubbing against your fluttering entrance, clenching around nothing. You can’t keep your mouth closed, feeble moans spilling out no matter how you try.
“Hmph, look at you,” San sneers when you cry out at another spank. “What a needy thing you are, just as bad at following orders as Wooyoung. Usually it’s my cock that fucks you dumb, but apparently you don’t even need that much to wipe that pretty head of yours empty.”
“Ngh, hmm, n-no… ‘s too good, San,” you whimper, “gonna cum…”
“‘Good’?” San lets out a harsh, low chuckle. “Baby, this is supposed to be a punishment.”
“No! No no please, Sannie, please—” The thought of being denied again at this point sends your clouded thoughts into a desperate tailspin, and you forget all about San’s instruction for silence. “S-sorry for playing without you,” you babble mindlessly, pathetically, “shouldn’t have teased you. Need you — hm, ahh! — please, feels so good… need you Sannie, please please please—”
“Aw poor thing, need me to make you feel good, do you?” San hums, a pleased undercurrent rumbling in his low voice. “You need Sannie’s cock so bad, baby?”
“Y-yeah…”
“Tell me, baby. Tell me you want my cock.”
“Want Sannie’s cock,” you sob, sniffling against the pillowcase. “Want you inside me, always fucking me so well…”
“Then cum on my tongue first.”
Finally, an order that is easy to follow.
It only takes a few more greedy sucks at your clit, and San groans deeply as you gush on his tongue with a strangled cry. His grip on your hips is unyielding as you convulse, your legs instinctively trying to kick out at the force of your release. Your upper body is nothing but a crumpled mess on the bed, knees shaking as San eats you out through every pulse that rocks through you. He moans contently every time you clench around his tongue, pleased at your quick obedience, until he relaxes his hold and lets you slide down onto the bed.
You pant hard, still clutching onto your pillow and blinking away tears. By now the pillowcase is uncomfortably cold where you drooled and sobbed into it, and you push it away with a weak whine.
Faintly, you hear the rustle of clothes and the sound of a zipper behind you, but your attention is drawn back to Wooyoung, still bound and on his knees.
The sight of him is mesmerising; his face is flushed, chin covered with wet, shiny streaks from gagged mouth. There’s an obvious tent in his crusted baggy shorts, and he grows more fidgety as you watch him, jaw shifting around your dirty panties in his mouth, struggling against your tied up shirt.
Every cell in your body yearns to reach out and touch Wooyoung, to bring relief to his aching cock — but San pats your ass before you can do anything unwise.
“Up,” is his simple order; though he does most of the work himself, lifting you back on your knees with a firm grip on your waist. You tiredly fold your forearms to rest your head on them, keeping your eyes on Wooyoung as San’s pelvis presses against your ass.
You shudder when San’s cock glides through your sticky folds, your lower lips clinging onto his hard length.
“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” he groans, rocking his hips against you. “I bet I can just slide right in there, no problem.” His tip presses at your entrance, walls stretching pliantly for him after all this foreplay.
You moan weakly, wiggling your ass. He’s a snug fit in this position, but you’re ready, so fucking ready for San to fill you up. You can’t help but move on your own accord, and San’s breath shallows as you push back into him, his thumbs rubbing encouraging circles on your waist as you sink yourself down on his thick cock.
“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he murmurs, his dick twitching inside you. “You know who treats this pussy best. All mine now.”
Heat licks through you at his possessiveness, at Wooyoung’s pitiful moan in response. Your head feels fuzzy, too mindless to agree or protest, but San does not seem to be waiting for a reaction, only for you to completely bury his cock in your wet cunt. Already you’re panting; just the feel of him stretching your walls is enough to make you dizzy, solid pressure resting right against that spongy bundle of nerves.
Then San starts moving.
You already knew you were in real trouble all the way back when he first put you on your hands and knees. That’s how San likes you when he intends to use every ounce of strength in his body, inflicting the full force of his gym-rat lifestyle on you. Hitting deep and hard until you’re nothing but a ragdoll for him to pound into, his hands squeezing tight enough on your waist to leave bruises, your ass sore from the slam of his hips.
Thank god he no longer makes you keep quiet. Your cunt is fucking wired from all the edging and overstimulation and you can feel yourself leaking around San’s cock, arousal streaking down your thighs and dripping onto the bed. San grunts hoarsely with every thrust as he fucks an electrified heat into your abdomen, fuelled by the noisy squelch of his cock being swallowed up by your sopping hole.
You moan out pathetic, hiccuped whines in time with his thrusts, gnawing your bottom lip raw. Wooyoung swims in your vision as tears well up again, your fingers clawing at the sheets for purchase. Your untouched clit throbs, so overwhelmed yet your orgasm feels so far away, even with San hitting right against your sweet spot.
“Gonna cum for me again?” San asks, demands, though a familiar whiny lilt is creeping into his voice. San is close.
“I— I don’t know— dunno if I can—” you mewl, and San seems to realise your genuine distress.
Suddenly you’re hoisted upright against him, one arm locked around your middle; his hand splayed over your stomach, the other pressed on your sternum, just underneath your throat. San’s rhythm barely breaks at the change in position and he continues to fuck up into you, unforgiving.
“Fuck, so tight,” he hisses, the fit of him inside you even more snug like this.
He mouths at your neck when you let your head fall back against his shoulder, your hand flying into his hair to anchor yourself. San groans when you yank at the sweaty strands, his hips stuttering for just a moment before he regains himself and falls back into his rough pace. His thumb inches upward, brushing over the base of your throat, and you moan in encouragement for him to reach a little higher.
“Not yet, baby,” San rasps. “Gonna take care of you, just need you to touch your clit first. Then I’ll get you there.”
Obediently you reach down with a shaky hand, unable to do more than just a clumsy rub with two fingers; but San holds true to his promise. His rough pace slows into deliberate thrusts, smooth and so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat, where his hand ghosts across your skin. Suddenly the orgasm that felt miles out of reach, is right on you.
San’s breaths fall hard and hot against your ear, his fingers teasing at your neck. Barely squeezing, just making you unable to forget they’re there.
“That’s it, let go now,” he encourages. “Give it to me, hmn, wanna feel you cum on my cock. Fuck, you feel so good, baby, just a little more for me.”
There’s a budding heat stirring in your cunt, sharp enough to pierce through the cloudy overstimulation that fogs up your brain. Your entire body trembles against San’s hold, moans growing in pitch. You whine when your fingers falter, just as you dangle over the edge — but then San is there, taking over.
The pads of his fingers are rougher than yours, their firm pressure on your clit exactly what you need. Your hand in his hair tangles deeper, the other clinging onto his arm to stay upright. San groans as your nails dig into his wrist, but he keeps going, an unstoppable force driving you over that edge.
You glance to the side, and it’s when you meet Wooyoung’s watery eyes that you know you’re done for.
“F-fuck, San, San, I— I’m gonna—”
San can only whines in answer, bucking his hips a few more times before he stills inside you with a loud, strangled moan, coating your walls with ropes of white. He stays buried deep inside you, panting for breath as he takes away yours; tightening his grip around the sides of your throat. You gasp — or you try to — inhaling raggedly through the partial restriction of your airflow. San still rubs at your swollen clit, and white heat floods your brain as you dissolve in his arms, reduced to a delirious, light-headed haze.
After a few brief, endless seconds, San’s hand relaxes. He murmurs soft encouragements, guiding you through it as you whimper against him through the lingering waves of pleasure that lick at your worn-out cunt.
Again San lets you slump down onto the bed; but this time he moves with you, pressing light kisses against the side of your face. He gently shushes your whine when his cock slips out and leaves you empty, cum trickling down your thighs. “Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Did so well for me.”
“Hmn,” you moan hoarsely, instinctively trying to pull San in for a cuddle. You make a weak noise of complaint when he doesn’t budge — but you instantly release him when you remember why. Wooyoung.
San chuckles at your neediness, brushing a tender thumb over your cheek. “Wooyoungie needs taking care of now, baby. Gotta see if he’s learned his lesson yet. You alright? Give me a colour.”
You nod, a tired smile making its way onto your face. “Green,” you sigh contently. “Wanna watch…”
“Of course you do,” San says, breathing a fond laugh. “Have fun, hm? Need anything first? Blanket?”
San lingers just a moment longer with you, ignoring Wooyoung’s small noises as he helps you into a robe to make sure you don’t get cold, and hands you a pillow that hasn’t been drooled on.
Then San finally turns back to Wooyoung — and his entire demeanour shifts, his shoulders seeming to grow wider as he sinks back into the cool, hardened dom with a brat to punish.
Wooyoung lets out a garbled whimper around the gag when San’s fingers ghost over the cum-stained crotch of his shorts, but San moves past it, tugging at the waistband instead.
“I assume this means you didn’t play with his ass and open him up for me, did you?” he asks you, a mocking grin on his lips. “No? That’s fine, lube is in the drawer, right?”
San rummages through your nightstand, ignoring your toys in favour of a bottle of lube. You curl up on the bed to make yourself comfortable as you watch how San puts the bottle down next to him, first sitting on his knees in front of Wooyoung.
“Hm, what to do with you,” San ponders, holding Wooyoung’s jaw with a less than gentle touch.
Wooyoung moans, arching his hips forward, but the unspoken suggestion goes ignored.
“Did you get a good look at how I had to punish our sweet girl? Bet you dragged her into this,” San says with cold derision — and completely correct in his assumption. “You’re a bad influence, Woo. Getting my good girl into trouble just because you were hungry for some pussy.”
(Even as a spectator, something flutters in your chest at the petname — though you don’t think it’s wholly deserved here. Wooyoung might have been the brains behind this scheme, but you weren’t exactly a reluctant co-conspirator. Still, you stay quiet, too eager to see how this plays out.)
Wooyoung makes another unintelligible noise, drool leaking past his gag onto San’s fingers. He juts his head insistently against San’s hold, his eyes shimmering with the silent plea to remove your panties from his mouth.
San scoffs, pushing Wooyoung’s face away.
“What, are you hungry for cock too? Is that what you want, to gag on something other than those panties you ruined?” San shakes his head, sitting next to Wooyoung so he can slide a heavy arm around his shoulders, almost ominous in the way he pulls Wooyoung close. “No Woo, I don’t think you deserve that after what you pulled today.”
That’s all the warning Wooyoung gets before San pushes him down, manhandling him onto his stomach, his cheek pressed into the sheets. Wooyoung groans through the gag, starting to squirm but San pins him with an unyielding hand between his shoulder blades, not letting him escape.
Your breath hitches when Wooyoung meets your eyes, his face contorted with desperation as he wiggles against San’s hold, tears brimming on his lashes. His eyes squeeze shut when San smacks his still-clothed ass, a choked moan escaping his stretched-open lips.
“Hold still while I take these off, understood?” San tells Wooyoung, who shudders and shows his first sign of voluntary obedience today as San slightly raises his hips to unbutton his baggy shorts and yank them down along with his underwear. San doesn’t take them off all the way, leaving the clothes bunched around Wooyoung’s ankles — and somehow that makes it all the more undignified. Like San doesn’t find it worth the effort to properly unclothe Wooyoung, his crusted shorts staying there as a mocking reminder of how he’d humped himself into an orgasm earlier.
You find yourself fading into a foggy dreamscape as you watch San and Wooyoung; their combined efforts have wiped you out completely, a wonderful exhaustion sunk deep into your mind, muscles and bones. San’s punishment of Wooyoung melts into a blurry series of moments, each deeply imprinted on your brain;
San spreading Wooyoung’s asscheeks, fingering him open while deliberately avoiding his prostate; just a cocksleeve to be used with no right to his own pleasure. Wooyoung moaning in desperation, trying to rock back into San, only for San’s hand to wrap around the nape of Wooyoung’s neck, pressing his face harder into the mattress until he obediently holds still again.
How the bindings around Wooyoung’s wrists start to loosen when San finally fucks into him with hard snaps of his hips, but still Wooyoung can’t do anything but scramble for something to grab onto — he is so far gone it does not even cross his mind to take out the gag from his mouth. San, bent over Wooyoung’s prone body, his chest heaving from exertion, skin glistening from sweat. Wooyoung’s cries as his dick rubs against the sheets underneath with every brutal thrust.
You watch it all, heat prickling through your veins as San and Wooyoung envelop nearly all your senses just by letting you be their quiet witness again.
The sight of San using Wooyoung for his own pleasure. Their moans and whines filling your ears, the heady smell of sex saturating the air; even the mattress bouncing underneath you in time with San’s pace. You reach down between your legs for a swipe of San’s cum, just to get a taste as well, but you’re met with the soft pang of disappointment to find it has already dried and crusted on your thighs.
But the disappointment can’t last, not when San takes mercy on Wooyoung and slams into his prostate with every thrust, Wooyoung’s muffled yet loud cries echoing through your bedroom.
“Come on, that’s what you wanted, right?” San goads him, a thick vein protruding in his neck. His voice is shaky from the strain, low and rough. “I know you got jealous, watching me fuck her. You couldn’t wait to get fucked like that yourself. That tight hole filled up with my cock, my hand on your neck. Well, now you got it,” he spits, tightening his grip, pressing the side of Wooyoung’s face into the mattress again. “Show some fucking gratitude and cum for me.”
Gratitude comes with a choked keen, with struggled bucks of Wooyoung’s hips; his cock still trapped between his stomach and your bed as he falls apart under San’s command. His knuckles are white from how hard he clutches at the sheets, eyes squeezed shut and face streaked with sweat, saliva and tears.
Slowly Wooyoung’s stifled moans die down into weak whimpers, his limp body feebly rocked up-and-down as San chases his own high.
“Haa, fuck fuck—” San folds over, burying his face between Wooyoung’s shoulder blades as he finds his release, spilling with stuttered thrusts until finally he collapses completely. He only barely manages to catch himself, sliding next to Wooyoung instead of crushing him under his weight.
You release a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, still drinking in every detail of the two men entangled. San tries to catch his breath, running a soothing hand over Wooyoung’s back. Carefully he turns Wooyoung onto his back, who moans but lets himself be moved around by San’s strong hands. San props himself up on an elbow as he leans over Wooyoung to peel your underwear from his mouth and toss it aside, then plant a tender kiss on Wooyoung’s puffy lips.
“You okay?” San asks quietly, brushing sweaty strands of hair out of Wooyoung’s face.
Wooyoung only nods at first, like he’s still a little stunned, but then he manages to find his voice. “Fuck yeah, I’m okay. That was… fuck,” he groans, hoarse but emphatic. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?”
San lets out a breathless laugh at the sudden declaration of affection. “So much that you hung up on me before I could even get my hand down my pants!”
“You know me, that’s how I express my affection,” Wooyoung mumbles tiredly, while he reaches out a hand at you, beckoning you to come cuddle.
You do exactly that while San gets you all some water, grabbing an energy bar for himself. (You don’t even eat those, but somehow San’s favourite snacks have sneaked their way into your home anyway.) Then he comes to join you and Wooyoung in the middle of your cuddle, where you both get to use San’s chest for its rightful purpose; a comfy pillow to rest your weary head.
Still, in the peaceful quiet of the aftermath, you can’t help but take a moment to observe San, take stock of his condition.
What you see is reassuring; San is tired, but the right kind of tired. His eyes are clear and shining, a slow smile playing on his face as he leisurely plays with Wooyoung’s hair and brushes his fingers over your arm in small, soothing patterns.
San raises an eyebrow in question when he notices you looking. “Hey, got something on your mind?”
You huff a small laugh, not sure where to even begin answering that.
“That was amazing,” you smile at him, “but… you were wrong about Wooyoung.”
“Hm? Wrong how?” San asks, confused, while Wooyoung perks up in curiosity.
“You said he was a bad influence,” you explain. “Not true. He was a good one. A really good one.”
“I was?” Wooyoung asks, equally confused.
San raises a playful eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, baby.”
So you do. You explain how you’d been nervous about pushing San too hard, how Wooyoung reminded you to trust San, trust him to know and guard his own limits. Helping you past that mental block, reviving the knowledge that San enjoys this type of play as much as you do.
San listens intently, his fingers idly combing through Wooyoung’s hair and squeezing at the nape of his neck — affectionately, this time. Wooyoung listens too, his eyes shimmering at you. You’d half-expected him to preen and giggle at your praise, or to badger San for being too tough on him, but instead he is quiet; touched by your recognition that his encouragement was about more than just being bratty for a bit of fun.
Wooyoung lightly pinches your side as you finish speaking; a gesture you’ve come to recognise as a substitution for when he wants to kiss you outside of sex, just like how San likes to rub his cheek against your shoulder or the side of your head. Small ways they’ve found to meet you halfway while staying within your comfort zone; enabling them to show their physical affection without crossing any hard boundaries. Something warm flourishes in your chest at the gesture, feeling safe and cherished.
“Yeah, let’s be very clear,” San says when you finish talking. “Really, I don’t put up with being a hard dom just to make you and Wooyoung happy. I mean, obviously I wouldn’t go there if you weren’t into it,” he adds quickly, like you didn’t literally witness him breaking down at the mere thought of hurting you or Wooyoung, “but yeah, I like doing this too.”
“Oh, I know, that was more than obvious today!” you grin. “I just needed reminding. This was a great reminder.” In more ways than one.
San chuckles, shaking his head — but then a mischievous gleam sneaks into his eyes. “Well… I might have a little something then. In case you ever need to refresh your memory in the future.”
Your brow furrows in confusion, and you exchange a look with Wooyoung while San reaches to grab for his phone, then settles back down. He holds his phone so you and Wooyoung can see the screen, and your eyes widen when he pulls up the most recently made video.
On it, you can just barely see enough of San’s surroundings to know he is standing in a public bathroom stall — but more importantly, you can perfectly see how his jeans are undone, pulled down just enough to release his cock. He is hard and aching, jerking himself off with quiet moans, desperately trying to keep the noise down.
“Fuck, Sannie, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Wooyoung says breathlessly, sounding almost proud.
“What else was I supposed to do, walk out with a massive boner just like that?” he sighs, shaking his head.
Your cheeks are on fire as you watch how the San on the screen groans tightly when he spills into some tissue-paper, almost doubling over. Instant heat pools between your thighs, and you press your face into San’s chest with a moan, suddenly so turned on again that you don’t know what to do with yourself.
San chuckles, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. “So you like that, huh?”
“San,” you groan against his chest, “you have no fucking idea how badly I want to go down on you in a public bathroom. Like. Right now.”
“Hm. Cute,” he has the audacity to say, while Wooyoung’s laugh cackles to life next to you.
Lesson learned. No need to worry about teasing San too much.
