༺ ♱༄ 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝—𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓༄♱ ༻
(photos are all from pinterest)
part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Pairing: Minho x Reader x Jisung (Stray Kids)
(this a long and FILTHY one)
🚨 Content / Warnings (18+ ONLY)
NSFW, explicit sexual content · Polyamorous relationship (Minho x Reader x Jisung) · MMF threesome · Switch!Jisung (sub w/ Minho, dom w/ Reader), dom!Minho, sub!Reader · Voyeurism / exhibitionism (including being watched in Uber) · Public teasing · Overstimulation · Rough sex, manhandling, hair pulling, choking, spanking · Oral sex (M/F, M/M) · Double penetration (M/MF — both in Reader’s pussy) · Spit-roast · Chest/pec worship (male) · Dirty talk, praise + degradation mix · Creampie (M/F and M/M) · Sweat, spit, cum play · Multiple orgasms · Squirting · Morning-after sex · Aftercare
(continuation to part 4)
The night air outside the club is warm and buzzing, the bass still thrumming faintly from inside as the three of you step to the curb.
Minho’s got his hand on the small of your back.
Jisung’s fingers are hooked loosely in your shorts, tugging you close enough that your hip brushes his with every step.
The Uber pulls up.
Minho opens the door first, letting you slide into the middle seat.
Jisung follows on your right, Minho on your left.
The door clicks shut.
The second it does?
They’re on you.
Minho’s hand slides onto your bare thigh, just above the knee, his thumb stroking slow circles against the soft inside. Then he starts inching higher, his palm warm and steady as it glides under the hem of your leopard shorts — all heat and unspoken promise.
Jisung leans in on the other side, his nose brushing your bare shoulder before he nuzzles into the curve of your neck. His lips press soft at first. Then wetter. Open-mouthed kisses trailing up toward your jaw.
Your breath catches. “Guys—”
“Shh,” Jisung murmurs against your skin.
Minho chuckles low. “Don’t tell me you’re shy now.”
Jisung hums against your neck before tugging the fabric of your chain-held top slightly to the side, revealing more skin. His mouth dips lower, leaving a hot, slow hickey on the side of your chest.
The driver clears his throat softly.
You glance up.
The rearview mirror shows his eyes — darting between the road and the scene in his backseat.
Your heart races.
You don’t move away.
Not when Minho’s lips are suddenly hovering right in front of yours.
Not when you can feel his breath — warm, mint-sweet, steady — like he’s going to kiss you.
Your lips part.
And then he shifts — brushing the corner of your mouth before dragging his lips down. Over your jaw. Your throat. Finding the other side of your neck to claim.
Jisung doesn’t let up on his own side. His teeth graze lightly. His mouth works up toward your collarbone, slow and filthy, his hand resting possessively on your waist.
You’re squirming now, breathless, caught between them — your thighs spread just enough for Minho’s fingers to press firmer into the soft heat of you through your shorts.
You glance at the rearview mirror again.
The driver’s still looking.
And you don’t care.
The ride feels too short.
Because before you know it, Minho’s murmuring, “We’re here.”
The car rolls to a stop outside the apartment.
You start to move — but Jisung beats you to it, sliding out first, then turning and scooping you up effortlessly, arms curling under your knees and back.
“Ji—what are you—”
“Carrying you,” he says simply, smirking down at you like it’s the easiest decision in the world.
You glance past his shoulder.
Minho’s already ahead, walking toward the entrance, keys in hand, glancing back once.
That smirk — sharp, knowing, smug as hell — hits you right in the chest.
Like he already knows exactly what’s waiting upstairs.
—
The second the apartment door clicks shut, Minho locks it.
You’re still in Jisung’s arms — one arm hooked under your knees, the other cradling your back — your pulse still racing from the Uber ride.
He doesn’t set you down right away. Instead, he smirks at Minho over your shoulder, like he’s asking now?
Minho steps closer, gaze raking over you slowly, one hand sliding up to grip your jaw.
“Bedroom. Now.”
Jisung obeys instantly, carrying you straight down the short hall. The door barely clicks shut before Minho’s there too — and then it’s just hands and mouths everywhere.
Jisung sets you on the bed, but before you can even think, Minho’s fingers are in the chain of your shirt, tugging it loose.
“Off,” he orders.
The shirt drops to the floor, quickly followed by your shorts. You’re bare in the low light, the cool air kissing your skin.
Minho’s eyes darken. “Ji. Taste her.”
Jisung’s grin is pure hunger. He eases you back onto the pillows, crawling between your legs with slow, deliberate movements. His hands slide up your thighs, parting them until you’re fully open to him.
The first swipe of his tongue makes you jolt, your head tipping back with a gasp.
“Fuck—”
He hums in satisfaction, pressing his mouth to you fully. His tongue flicks over your clit before sealing his lips around it, sucking gently while sliding two fingers inside you. The curl of them hits that spot instantly, and your hips jerk against his face.
“Good,” Minho murmurs from where he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, watching like it’s his favorite show. “Just like that. Make her fall apart.”
Jisung groans into you and speeds up, his free hand gripping your thigh to keep you spread wide. Every lap of his tongue sends sharp heat curling through you, and it’s not long before you’re trembling.
“Ji—please—” you whimper, fingers in his hair.
“What do you need, baby?” he mumbles against you, his lips brushing your slick skin.
“More,” you gasp. “Need more—please—”
Minho smirks. “You heard her.”
Jisung’s fingers pump faster, his tongue relentless. You’re right on the edge—
Then Minho’s hand fisting in his hair pulls him back suddenly.
Jisung’s lips are wet, his breathing uneven. “Min—”
“Not yet.” Minho’s tone leaves no room for argument. “Inside her. Now.”
Jisung swallows hard, stripping quickly before crawling over you. He kisses you once — messy and deep — before pushing in slowly. You moan at the stretch, and his eyes flutter shut.
“She’s so tight,” he groans.
“Hold still,” Minho orders.
Jisung freezes. Minho moves in behind him, gripping his hips. Without warning, he pushes in — one deep, claiming thrust that makes Jisung cry out and jolt forward, burying himself deeper in you.
“F-fuck—” Jisung’s voice cracks, the sound wrecked and needy.
“Don’t stop,” Minho growls in his ear, snapping his hips forward again. “You fuck her while I fuck you.”
Jisung tries, but every thrust from Minho knocks him deeper into you, his rhythm breaking into messy, desperate pushes. His hands grip your hips tight like he’s holding on for dear life.
You’re reeling from it — the way Jisung keeps twitching inside you, the constant deep drive from both ends, the loud, raw noises spilling from him.
“Listen to her,” Minho says, voice low. “She loves you like this — inside her, moaning for me.”
Jisung’s forehead drops to your shoulder, his noises turning high and frantic.
“Min—ah—she’s—squeezing—fuck—”
Minho’s pace only gets rougher, his hands controlling Jisung completely. “She’s making you weak already?”
Jisung can’t even answer — just whines, hips jerking.
The chain of motion is relentless — Minho pounding into Jisung, Jisung pounding into you — and you can feel your orgasm building fast. Then Minho’s hand slides between your thighs, thumb pressing against your clit.
You break instantly, your walls clenching around Jisung so tight he gasps like he’s been shocked.
“Shit—shit—fuck—” he babbles, spilling inside you, his whole body shaking while Minho keeps driving into him.
“Good boy,” Minho murmurs, still using him until his own release hits, his groan deep and rough as he finishes inside Jisung.
When it’s over, you’re all tangled, sweaty, panting — Jisung still whining softly from the overstimulation, your body humming with aftershocks, and Minho’s hands stroking down both your backs like you belong to him.
“Perfect,” he says, satisfied. “Both of you. Mine.”
Your head’s still spinning from the last round, your skin flushed, sheets sticking to your back. You’re sprawled in the middle of the bed, breathing uneven, thighs still trembling.
They should be done. You should be done.
But Minho doesn’t move far. He’s leaning against the headboard, watching you like you’re still prey he hasn’t finished eating. Jisung is lying beside you, one arm draped over your stomach, his breathing still uneven.
Then Minho says, low and deliberate, “Up. On your back.”
You try to protest — “I can’t—” — but his hand is already wrapping around your ankle, tugging you down the bed until you’re flat again.
“Ji,” Minho says, voice edged with command, “make her cum again.”
Jisung perks up immediately, sliding between your thighs like he’s been waiting for permission. His mouth is on you without hesitation, tongue licking a slow stripe up your center that makes your hips twitch.
“Ji—” you gasp, already too sensitive, your fingers fisting the sheets.
He groans against you, pressing in deeper, flicking over your clit before sucking hard enough to make your legs shake. His pace is eager, unrelenting — like he’s trying to crawl inside you through his tongue alone.
The build is too fast, too much, but you can’t stop it. The second orgasm slams into you in waves, pulling a loud moan from your throat.
You barely get a breath before Minho’s voice cuts in again. “Move.”
Jisung slides back, lips wet, chin shining. Minho replaces him immediately, pushing your knees back to spread you wide. His first lick is filthy — deep, slow, deliberate — and you can feel him smirk when you jolt.
“Min—please—”
He doesn’t stop. His tongue drags through your slick, his lips sealing around your clit to suck until you’re gasping, your hips trying to writhe away from the intensity. He doesn’t let you — his grip is iron, holding you open, keeping you right where he wants you.
Off to the side, Jisung shifts closer, kneeling beside Minho. His hands roam over Minho’s shoulders, down his back. He presses his lips to Minho’s neck, kissing up the side until his mouth is right by his ear.
Minho hums against you, and Jisung smiles, sliding a hand lower until he’s wrapping around Minho’s cock, stroking him slow.
The combination makes Minho groan directly into you, and the vibration tips you over — your third orgasm ripping through you so hard you arch off the bed, a broken cry leaving your lips.
You collapse back, boneless. That should be the end.
It isn’t.
Minho’s already manhandling you onto your hands and knees, your body barely obeying. You can’t even hold yourself up without trembling, but his hands keep you steady.
“Open for him,” he says, his tone dark, “and open for me.”
Jisung moves in front of you, his cock flushed and hard, his hand guiding you until your lips wrap around him. At the same moment, Minho pushes into you from behind in one deep, solid thrust.
The rhythm starts fast — Minho pounding into you, each push driving you forward to take Jisung deeper into your mouth. The moans you try to let out are muffled, your body caught between them, the two of them fucking you in perfect sync.
Then Minho says, “Come here,” and grabs the back of Jisung’s neck, dragging him down.
Jisung slips from your mouth with a wet sound as Minho kisses him — hot, filthy, tongues sliding together while both keep fucking you. Jisung moans into Minho’s mouth, his hand still in your hair, guiding you back to him.
“You feel her?” Minho murmurs against his lips. “Squeezing around me while she sucks you?”
Jisung’s whine is almost desperate. “Y-yeah—fuck—”
The pace turns brutal — Minho slamming into you from behind, Jisung thrusting into your mouth in short, deep strokes. You’re dizzy from it, tears pricking your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, but you can’t stop moaning around him, can’t stop clenching on Minho.
And from the way they sound — low groans, high whines, wet kisses between them — neither of them is going to stop until they’ve wrung everything out of you.
Your arms are trembling, every muscle in your body shaking from the force of Minho’s thrusts. Each one shoves you forward onto Jisung’s cock, the head hitting the back of your throat, making you moan around him.
The sound earns you a high, needy whine from Jisung. “F-fuck—she’s so good—”
Minho’s hand stays locked on the back of Jisung’s neck, pulling him into another messy kiss. It’s hot and desperate — their tongues tangling, Minho biting Jisung’s bottom lip hard enough to make him gasp.
“Don’t hold back,” Minho murmurs against his mouth, his voice low and dangerous. “I want her dripping down her thighs and your cum down her throat at the same time.”
That’s all it takes for Jisung’s hips to jerk, his hand tightening in your hair as he starts thrusting into your mouth faster, his breaths coming quick and shaky.
The combined rhythm is brutal — Minho’s hips slamming into you with a steady, deep force while Jisung fucks your mouth in short, hungry pushes. You’re lost in it, the noises spilling from all three of you filling the room — wet, messy, filthy.
Minho’s other hand slides from your hip to your throat, gripping just tight enough to make your vision haze at the edges. “That’s it,” he growls, “take us both. Good girl.”
The praise sends a fresh wave of heat rolling through you. You clench hard around him, and Minho groans low in response, his thrusts getting sharper.
“She’s squeezing—” he bites out between kisses to Jisung, “—so fucking tight—”
Jisung’s voice cracks, a loud moan tearing from his throat. “M-Minho—fuck—I’m—”
“You’re not coming without her,” Minho cuts in, his tone sharp even as his pace turns relentless. “She goes first.”
It’s almost unbearable — the thick drag of Minho inside you, the push of Jisung against your tongue, the choking heat in your throat. Your nails dig into the sheets, your knees sliding against the mattress as your body fights to keep up with them.
Minho’s thumb drops to your clit, rubbing hard and fast in perfect time with his thrusts. The sudden burst of sensation sends you spiraling — your vision goes white, your body locking tight around him as you cum hard, loud, and shaking.
The way you squeeze him is Jisung’s undoing. He cries out, his hips stuttering before he pushes deep, spilling down your throat. You swallow around him on instinct, your hands clutching at his thighs as his moans break into whimpers.
Minho isn’t far behind. He grabs Jisung by the jaw, pulling him back into another filthy kiss as he drives into you harder, faster, until he’s groaning deep into Jisung’s mouth, emptying himself inside you.
None of them pull away right away. Minho stays buried in you, his hips making slow, shallow thrusts to ride out the last waves. Jisung’s cock rests against your lips, still twitching as you lick him clean lazily, his breathing uneven.
When they finally ease off, you collapse forward onto the bed, your body limp and overheated. Minho catches you before you face-plant, pulling you back against his chest as he stretches out on the mattress. Jisung curls into your other side, head on your shoulder, his arm draped over your stomach.
Minho’s fingers stroke slowly over your thigh, his voice low in your ear. “That’s what happens when you’re ours.”
Jisung hums in tired agreement, pressing a soft, lazy kiss to your collarbone. “Our perfect girl.”
Your body’s still buzzing, every nerve oversensitized, but with both of them wrapped around you like that, you can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
—
Jisung’s already moving — fumbling for the box of tissues on the nightstand, wiping himself off before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “You okay, baby?” His voice is still a little hoarse, but softer now, warm with concern.
You nod weakly, still dazed, but Minho’s sharp eyes are scanning your face anyway. He runs a thumb over your cheekbone, almost absentminded. “You look wrecked.”
“She is wrecked,” Jisung says with a smug little grin, though his hand hasn’t stopped rubbing slow circles into your hip. “She was so loud, Min. Bet the neighbors hate us.”
Minho smirks, grabbing a warm damp cloth from the bathroom and coming back to clean you up with slow, methodical movements. “If they heard, they heard. Not my problem if they’re jealous.”
You let him take care of you, the warmth of the cloth and the steadiness of his hands grounding you. When he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside, then tugs you into a sitting position — not to lecture, but to wrap one of his shirts over your head.
“Arms up,” he says, and you obey automatically. The shirt is soft and smells faintly of his cologne, enveloping you completely.
Before you can move, Jisung’s sliding under the covers and opening his arms, looking up at you like you belong there. “Come here.”
You don’t even hesitate. You crawl into his hold, curling against his chest while Minho climbs in on your other side. The three of you settle into a tangled knot, the heat between you still lingering but softened now into something calmer.
Minho props his head on his hand, looking down at you. “You’re quiet now. Where’d all that noise go?”
You try to glare, but it comes out weak. “Too tired to sass you.”
“Mm.” His smirk deepens. “I’ll enjoy the peace while it lasts.”
Jisung huffs a laugh, pressing another lazy kiss to your forehead. “Don’t listen to him. You were perfect. Every sound.” His voice dips lower, more serious. “Love hearing you like that.”
Minho’s hand slides under the blanket, not to start anything again, but to rest over your stomach, warm and solid. “Get some sleep. We’ve got you.”
The last thing you feel before drifting off is the weight of Minho’s arm over your waist and Jisung’s soft breath against your neck, the two of them holding you like they have no intention of letting go.
—-
NEXT MORNING
You’re pulled out of sleep by soft, wet sounds — muffled gasps, faint moans, the low rumble of a voice you recognize instantly.
Your lashes flutter open, and the first thing you see is Jisung straddling Minho’s lap. His hands are braced on Minho’s shoulders, his lips locked on Minho’s in a deep, filthy kiss that makes your chest tighten. Jisung’s hips keep shifting like he can’t help it, chasing contact, and Minho… looks perfectly in control.
Your gaze drifts lower, and you see why. Minho’s hand is wrapped around Jisung’s cock, stroking him achingly slow — teasing at the head, dragging his palm down only to pause halfway. Jisung’s trying to chase the motion, but Minho’s hold is too firm, keeping him at the pace he decides.
Jisung lets out a desperate little whine against Minho’s mouth, trying to deepen the kiss, but Minho just tilts his head, taking his time, like he’s savoring him.
It’s only then that Minho’s eyes flick to yours.
He doesn’t break the kiss. Doesn’t say a word. Just smirks knowingly at you over Jisung’s shoulder — that smug, dangerous curve of his mouth that says I know exactly what you’re thinking.
And he’s right. You’re already warm all over, thighs pressing together, your hand slipping down between your legs before you’ve even fully realized what you’re doing.
The moment your fingers graze yourself, Minho’s smirk deepens. He shakes his head once — slow, deliberate. You freeze instantly. You don’t need him to say it; you know the rule. No touching without permission.
You pull your hand back, frustrated and squirming, your hips shifting restlessly under the sheets.
Then Minho’s free hand slides from Jisung’s thigh up his torso, over his collarbone, until his fingers wrap around the younger man’s throat. He squeezes just enough to make Ji gasp into the kiss.
“Get on your knees,” Minho murmurs against his lips, voice low and deliberate. “Suck me off.”
Jisung’s breath catches — but he obeys instantly. He slips off Minho’s lap, settling between his knees, and wraps his lips around him without hesitation. The first deep pull has him moaning around Minho’s length, his thighs shifting like he’s already fighting to keep control.
You don’t even notice you’ve moved until you’re kneeling beside him, your fingers sliding into his hair.
“Good boy,” you murmur, stroking the strands as you watch him work. “You’re doing so well for him.”
Jisung freezes for a second at the sound of your voice — then groans into Minho, his eyes flicking up to see you awake. The realization sends a fresh flush to his cheeks, but he only sucks harder, desperate for more of that praise.
“That’s it,” you say softly, letting your nails lightly scratch his scalp, “such a good boy for Min.”
Minho’s gaze shifts back to you, his expression dark and approving. He strokes your cheek once, thumb dragging slow over your skin.
“Baby,” he says, low and certain, “I think Ji needs your help.”
“Help him how?” you ask softly, though you’re already leaning closer.
Minho just smirks. “Use that sweet mouth for me, baby.” His hand leaves your cheek to cup the back of Jisung’s head again, keeping him steady as you shift in beside him.
You tilt your head, brushing your lips over Jisung’s temple first, then down to the flushed shell of his ear. “You look so pretty like this, Ji,” you murmur, your hand joining Minho’s in his hair, fingers weaving between the strands. “Taking him so well.”
Jisung’s moan is loud and shameless, vibrating around Minho. His thighs twitch against the floor as if the praise alone has him close.
Minho notices. His smirk sharpens. “Don’t you dare,” he warns, giving Ji’s hair a firm tug to pull him back just enough to meet his eyes. “You don’t get to cum unless she tells you.”
You feel Jisung shiver under your touch, his breath ragged as he looks between the two of you.
“Go on,” Minho prompts you, voice low and dangerous. “Tell him what to do.”
Your pulse jumps. You stroke your thumb along Jisung’s jaw, tilting his face toward you without taking him fully off Minho. “Be a good boy and keep sucking,” you say, your tone gentle but firm.
His eyes flutter shut like the words hit somewhere deep, and he goes right back to it, lips sealing around Minho again, head bobbing with more purpose now.
You shift lower, your free hand sliding over his back, nails dragging just lightly enough to make him squirm. Minho’s hand keeps his pace steady, controlling every movement, and you lean in to kiss Jisung’s flushed cheek, then down to the hinge of his jaw, then the hollow of his throat when he pulls back for a breath.
“Doing so good for us,” you whisper against his skin. “So perfect.”
Minho’s breath hitches — not from Ji’s mouth alone, but from watching you handle him like that. His gaze locks on yours over Jisung’s head, something dark and approving glinting in his eyes.
“Baby,” Minho says, still staring at you, “why don’t you make him feel good too?”
It takes you half a second to understand — then you’re moving. Your hand slides down between Jisung’s legs, wrapping around him with a slow, deliberate stroke.
The sound he makes is downright obscene — a choked whine into Minho’s cock that has Minho groaning low in his chest.
“Yeah,” Minho growls, his hand tightening in Ji’s hair to keep him on him. “Make him moan for us.”
You do, stroking him in time with the movements of his head, feeling him twitch and leak against your palm. He’s shaking now, caught between both sensations, every breath a moan or whimper.
Minho finally lets him pull off for a second, a string of spit connecting them, and uses the grip in his hair to tilt his face up. “Look at her.”
Jisung’s glassy eyes find yours instantly.
“Ask her,” Minho says.
“P-please,” Jisung stammers, voice hoarse and wrecked. “Please, baby—can I—”
Jisung’s voice is so wrecked it makes your thighs press together again without thinking. His chest is rising and falling fast, his lips swollen and slick from Minho, eyes begging just as much as his words.
You keep stroking him slowly, drawing it out. “You want to cum for me, Ji?”
“Yes—yes, please—” He cuts off with a shaky gasp when Minho’s grip in his hair tightens.
“She hasn’t said yes yet,” Minho warns, his tone razor-sharp but calm, like he’s enjoying dragging Ji through every second of this. His other hand stays wrapped around the base of Jisung’s cock, holding him just on the edge, keeping your strokes from sending him over.
You lean closer until your lips are brushing Ji’s ear. “Alright,” you whisper. “Be a good boy for Min and me, and you can cum.”
It’s all he needs. His whole body jerks, a strangled sound tearing from him as Minho finally releases his grip at the base and lets you set the pace.
“Keep your mouth on me,” Minho orders, and Jisung obeys instantly, taking him back in even as his hips buck into your hand. His moans are muffled but frantic, every noise vibrating around Minho until he’s groaning low in response.
You stroke him harder now, twisting your wrist just the way you know makes him twitch. Your free hand cups his cheek, thumb stroking his skin as you murmur, “That’s it… let go for us.”
He falls apart almost violently — hips stuttering, thighs shaking, hot release spilling over your hand as his moans turn into breathless whines around Minho. You keep stroking him through it, riding out every shiver until he’s collapsing forward, forehead resting against Minho’s thigh.
“Good boy,” Minho says, voice low but approving. He threads his fingers through Jisung’s hair, guiding him off gently now.
Ji’s still catching his breath when Minho glances at you with that familiar smirk. “Your turn, baby.”
Your pulse jumps. “My turn?”
He leans back, tugging Jisung up by the hair until he’s sitting again — flushed, panting, but already looking at you like he’ll do whatever Minho tells him.
“Help me make her scream,” Minho says simply.
And just like that, Ji’s on the move — pulling you down between them, Minho’s hands already sliding under your shirt while Jisung’s mouth finds your neck, kissing and sucking his way lower.
The shift from making Ji come undone to having both of them focused on you is dizzying, and you barely have time to catch your breath before Minho’s fingers are between your thighs, stroking slow and purposeful, and Jisung’s lips are teasing at the edge of your shorts.
The room is already sweltering with heat from the way their hands and mouths are on you — Minho’s fingers teasing between your thighs while Jisung kisses and nips his way down your stomach.
Then Minho’s voice cuts through, calm but edged with that dark intent. “Get her ready.”
Jisung doesn’t need to ask what he means. He drops lower, tugging your shorts down in one smooth motion before settling between your legs. His tongue is on you instantly — hot, wet, swirling slow before flattening against your clit. You gasp, your hips twitching, but Minho’s hand presses to your stomach, holding you in place.
“That’s it, Ji,” Minho murmurs, watching from above like he’s conducting a scene he’s already pictured a hundred times. “Make her wet for both of us.”
Both of us.
The words hit you somewhere deep. Your gaze flies to Minho’s, but he’s just smirking like he knows exactly how your mind’s running.
Jisung hums against you, his tongue dipping lower, his fingers sliding inside to work you open. He’s not shy about it, groaning softly as he feels how you squeeze around him. “She’s so tight already,” he mumbles, almost in awe.
“Not for long,” Minho replies, voice low and certain.
By the time Minho pulls Jisung up, your thighs are trembling.
You’re still catching your breath from Jisung’s mouth when Minho pulls you up, his hands steady on your hips as he sits back against the headboard. “Come here, baby.”
You straddle him, already trembling a little as he lines himself up. The first push in is deep, filling you in that way only he does — thick and deliberate, stretching you open until you’re gasping against his shoulder.
“Always so tight for me,” he murmurs, stroking your spine as you settle fully on him.
Then Jisung moves behind you.
You feel the heat of his body at your back, his hands smoothing over your waist before sliding lower. He glances at Minho, who just gives a small, slow nod.
“Go ahead, Ji.”
Your head snaps up, eyes wide — but Minho’s arms are already around you, keeping you still as Jisung’s cock presses against you from behind.
The first push makes your breath catch — the pressure unlike anything you’ve felt before. Minho’s hand slides up to the back of your neck, holding you close to his chest. “Relax, baby. Let him in.”
You try, but the stretch is intense — every inch of Jisung pushing in forcing Minho even deeper inside you. Your nails dig into Minho’s shoulders as a choked moan escapes your throat.
“Fuck,” Jisung groans behind you, his voice already wrecked. “I can feel you squeezing us both—”
Your whole body shivers at the sensation — their cocks rubbing together inside you with every tiny shift, the pressure hitting spots so deep you can’t think straight.
Minho’s grip on your waist tightens, anchoring you between them. “That’s it,” he growls, low and satisfied. “Take us. Be our perfect little girl.”
When Jisung bottoms out fully, your moan turns into a whimper — you’ve never felt so full, so stretched, every nerve in your body alight.
They start to move together, slow at first — the slide of them against each other inside you making you jolt. Minho thrusts upward while Jisung pulls back, then they switch, a perfect rhythm that has you gasping with every stroke.
“Oh my god—” your voice breaks, your hips jerking helplessly. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Minho cuts in, his tone leaving no room for doubt. His mouth is at your ear now, his breath hot. “You’re going to take it like the good girl you are.”
Jisung’s moans are shameless, almost pornographic, every thrust making him whine louder. “She feels—fuck—so good—”
The pace builds, their cocks sliding together inside you, stretching you wide and hitting everywhere at once. Your nails are dragging down Minho’s chest now, your voice a constant stream of broken moans as the pleasure edges into overwhelming.
And they just keep going — Minho’s deep, controlled thrusts meeting Jisung’s faster, needier ones, trapping you between them, giving you nowhere to escape from the intensity.
Once they’ve got you used to it, Minho’s hands clamp down on your hips and his voice drops into that dangerous growl.
“Hold on.”
You barely have time to inhale before both of them start moving — no more slow, careful testing. Minho thrusts up hard as Jisung slams forward from behind, their rhythm syncing so perfectly it feels like they’re inside the same heartbeat.
The impact is overwhelming — each deep push forcing the other to rub against you from inside, filling you so completely your body can’t decide if it’s pleasure or pain. Your back arches, your mouth falling open in a wordless cry.
“Fuck, she’s gripping us so tight,” Jisung pants, his voice breaking into high, breathy moans. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing over your ribs before he fists them in your shirt. “I’m not gonna last—”
“Yes, you will,” Minho cuts in sharply, not breaking pace for a second. “She’s not done yet.”
Every thrust from them has you bouncing helplessly, nails digging into Minho’s shoulders as you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. The wet, obscene sound of them fucking you is only broken by your cries and Jisung’s shameless whimpering.
“Min—oh my god—” you gasp, your voice shaking. “It’s—too much—”
“It’s perfect,” Minho corrects, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat, pulling you closer to his face. His eyes burn into yours, the corner of his mouth twitching in a dark smirk. “Look at you… stuffed full and still begging for more.”
Jisung groans behind you, his hips snapping harder, the head of his cock dragging right alongside Minho’s with every thrust. “She’s so warm—fuck—Min, I can feel you—”
“Good,” Minho growls, and for a moment his thrusts go brutal — sharp, deep drives that make you cry out, your body jerking forward into Jisung’s chest.
Your thighs are shaking now, your voice breaking into ragged moans as your orgasm builds too fast to fight. Every push from them hits that deep, impossible place, and you can’t stop the way you squeeze around them.
“She’s close,” Jisung whines, his own voice on the edge. “I can feel it—”
Minho’s grip on your throat tightens just enough to make your breath catch. “Not yet,” he warns, and somehow you obey — your body holding on even as the pleasure has you trembling.
They fuck you through it — relentless, merciless, the stretch so intense it feels like you’re theirs in a way you’ve never been before.
“Please—” you finally sob out, your voice wrecked. “Please, I can’t—”
“Now,” Minho orders, his pace snapping into something rougher, dirtier. Jisung matches him instantly, his moans dissolving into desperate whimpers.
It hits like a tidal wave — your orgasm tearing through you with a force that has you clenching down on both of them, your body shaking violently as the sounds spilling from your throat turn into something primal.
Minho groans low at the way you squeeze him, his own thrusts getting erratic. Jisung’s voice pitches high, almost broken, as he buries himself deep, both of them finally spilling into you together — the heat of it flooding you until you can barely keep yourself upright.
They don’t let you go, even then — Minho holding you steady on his lap, Jisung’s chest pressed to your back, both of them breathing hard against your skin like they can’t believe they just did that to you.
You’re still gasping for breath, your body shaking from the force of your orgasm, when Minho’s grip on your hips tightens again.
“Don’t even think about tapping out,” he warns, his voice a low growl against your ear. “We’re not done.”
You can barely form words, but Jisung lets out a needy whine behind you — his cock twitching still inside you, hips already giving little thrusts like he can’t help himself.
Minho feels it, smirking darkly. “Look at him. Can’t even stop moving.”
“I—can’t,” Jisung admits, his voice broken, needy, almost frantic. His hands squeeze at your waist from behind, fingers digging into your skin. “She feels—fuck—too good—”
Minho chuckles, a low, dangerous sound. “Then let’s give her more.”
Without warning, he pulls you up higher on his lap, shifting the angle. You cry out as the movement forces Jisung even deeper from behind, their cocks rubbing hard together inside you in a way that sends a shock of pleasure straight through your core.
“F-fuck!” The sound rips from you, raw and high-pitched.
“Yeah, feel that?” Minho taunts, his hips snapping upward in a brutal thrust that makes your vision go white for a second. “That’s both of us fucking you exactly where you need it.”
Jisung’s pace falters for a moment, his forehead pressing between your shoulder blades, his voice a string of helpless moans. “Min—she’s—she’s squeezing so much—”
“I know,” Minho says, almost smug. “She’s greedy.”
Then they move together again — fast, deep, perfectly in sync. The bed frame is knocking against the wall now, the wet sounds of them inside you mixing with your own wrecked cries and Jisung’s shameless whining.
Your hands scrabble at Minho’s chest, nails dragging red lines across his skin, but he just tilts his head back and groans, holding you tighter so you can’t shy away from the relentless rhythm.
“Take it,” he commands, low and sharp. “Take both of us.”
Jisung’s hands are everywhere now — on your tits, your stomach, sliding down to where you’re stretched so wide around them. “God—look at her, Min—she’s dripping—”
You’re gone — your mind blank except for the sensation of being split open and filled completely, every nerve screaming with overstimulation. The pressure builds again fast, your body trembling violently as you cling to Minho.
“Let go,” Minho finally orders, his own thrusts growing rougher. “Cum for us, right now.”
The command shoves you straight over the edge — your orgasm crashing into you so hard you scream, your walls clamping down around both of them at once. The tightness makes Jisung choke out a cry, his hips jerking erratically as he spills into you again, his moans high and desperate.
Minho follows with a low, guttural groan, burying himself deep and holding you there as he finishes, his hands gripping your hips like he’s staking a claim.
Even after, they stay inside you, the weight of both of them keeping you pinned in place, their breathing heavy in your ears, their bodies still trembling from the aftershocks.
You slump forward against Minho’s chest, every muscle loose and trembling, but they still haven’t moved. Both of them are still buried inside you — heavy, hot, stretching you to your limit.
You whimper softly, trying to shift your hips to escape the overwhelming fullness, but Minho’s hands clamp down, locking you in place.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, his voice still rough with exertion.
“I—can’t—” you breathe out, your voice breaking, but Jisung’s low moan behind you makes you freeze.
“She’s still—oh, fuck—she’s still so tight,” he pants, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His hips give an involuntary roll and you feel both cocks rub together inside you again, dragging against your walls so perfectly it steals your breath.
“Mm, she’s not done,” Minho decides, his smirk audible in his voice. His hand slides from your hip to your throat, tilting your face up so you have to look at him. “You think we’re done with you, baby?”
You shake your head weakly, though your body shivers at the thought.
“Good.”
He starts moving first — slow, deliberate thrusts upward that grind you down against him. Jisung catches on instantly, his pace syncing with Minho’s so they move together, their lengths sliding side by side inside you, filling you completely with every stroke.
The rhythm is torturous — not fast enough to make you cum, but deep enough to keep you teetering on the edge. Your nails claw at Minho’s chest, your lips parting in helpless moans.
“Listen to her,” Jisung breathes, his voice wrecked. “She’s—God—she’s dripping again—”
“That’s because she loves it,” Minho says with certainty, leaning in to press his forehead to yours. “Don’t you, baby? Love being full of both of us.”
You can’t even speak — all you can do is nod and let out another strangled whimper.
Minho’s grin deepens. “Say it.”
“I—love it,” you gasp out, your voice cracking. “Feels so—oh my god—”
“Good girl,” he purrs, and suddenly the pace changes — sharp, deep thrusts that have you jolting between them, their cocks sliding hard against each other inside you, the sensation too much and not enough all at once.
Jisung’s moans are getting high and breathless again, his hands gripping your waist like he’s holding on for dear life. “Min—I’m—fuck—”
“Hold it,” Minho growls, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your head spin. “She’s going first.”
The control in his voice, the way they both keep you pinned and full, sends you spiraling — your climax slamming into you harder than before, your walls clenching around them in relentless pulses.
This time, neither of them holds back — Minho groaning low as he buries himself deep, Jisung’s moans dissolving into broken cries as he spills into you again, the heat flooding you until you’re shaking and boneless.
They still don’t pull out.
… (this is fuckin insane can u tell im ovulating)
Minho finally pulls out first, but it’s only to grab your jaw and tilt your face up to him. His eyes sweep over you — flushed, panting, trembling — and his mouth curves into that slow, dangerous smirk.
“On your back. Now.”
You obey without thinking, letting Jisung ease you down onto the mattress. The sheets are damp with sweat, your thighs sticky from the mess they’ve made of you, but Minho doesn’t give you a second to breathe.
He grabs your ankles, spreading them wide until your knees are bent and your feet are flat on the bed. “Hold them,” he orders, and you hook your hands under your thighs, pulling yourself open for him.
Minho crawls between your legs, his gaze locked shamelessly on the sight of your swollen, slick entrance. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Look at you.”
Before he can move in, Jisung shifts to the head of the bed, kneeling so his cock is right above your lips. “Baby,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back, his voice wrecked and sweet. “Let me in your mouth again.”
The second your lips wrap around him, Minho slides back into you with one deep, punishing thrust that makes you choke around Jisung.
“That’s it,” Minho groans, setting a brutal pace right away — his hips snapping forward hard enough to rock you up into Jisung’s cock. The rhythm forces you to take both of them, your throat and pussy stuffed full, every inch of you claimed.
Jisung’s head tips back with a loud, broken moan. “F-fuck—she’s so perfect like this—”
Minho grips your hips hard enough to bruise, pounding into you with deliberate force. “Keep her still,” he grits out, and Jisung’s hands cup your head, holding you steady as they use you in perfect, relentless sync.
The stretch from earlier is still fresh in your body, every thrust making your walls flutter around Minho, each gag around Jisung’s cock sending a shiver through him.
You can’t breathe without tasting Jisung, can’t move without Minho driving deeper — it’s overwhelming in the most obscene, addictive way.
“She’s dripping down my balls,” Minho growls, the sound feral. “Such a messy little thing.”
Jisung looks down at you, his expression wrecked and soft all at once. “You’re doing so good for us, baby,” he pants. “Taking us both—fuck—you’re so hot—”
Minho’s thrusts get sharper, angling to hit deep, cruel spots inside you while Jisung starts to lose his rhythm, his moans coming faster, higher.
The room is all wet sounds, breathless praise, and your own muffled cries — the bed shaking under the force of Minho’s pace until you feel the heat coiling low in your belly again.
Minho feels it too, his hand sliding down to rub your clit in tight, brutal circles even as he fucks you hard enough to make your toes curl. “Cum. Now.”
You do — body arching, choking on Jisung’s length as your orgasm rips through you, squeezing Minho so tightly he groans loud and deep. Jisung’s hips stutter above you, his hand fisting in your hair as he spills into your mouth with a helpless cry.
Minho’s release follows seconds later, hips grinding deep as he fills you again, his breath ragged against your thigh.
You’ve barely swallowed for Jisung when Minho’s hand is on your hip, rolling you over without warning.
“On your stomach,” he says, voice low and commanding.
You comply sluggishly, your body limp from the last orgasm, but Minho doesn’t care — he manhandles you into position, yanking your hips up while keeping your chest pressed flat to the mattress.
“Arms up,” he orders, and you stretch them above your head. The position arches your back, your ass perfectly presented for him, and you can hear the appreciative groan he lets out behind you.
Jisung slides in beside your face, lying on his side so he can brush your messy hair back and stroke your cheek. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. “All fucked out and still ready for more, huh?”
You barely manage a whimper before Minho’s cock is pressing back into you — deeper this time from the angle, every inch dragging slow just to make you feel the stretch.
“Oh—fuck—” you gasp, your hands curling into the sheets.
“That’s it,” Minho growls, leaning over you until his chest is pressed to your back, his weight pinning you down. His hips start moving — deep, grinding thrusts that press you into the mattress with every stroke.
The angle is devastating — you can’t move, can’t breathe without feeling him everywhere inside you.
Jisung leans in closer, his lips brushing your temple. “You’re so perfect for him,” he says softly, but there’s heat in his tone. His hand trails down your arm, fingers tangling with yours above your head. “Perfect for us.”
Minho’s thrusts pick up pace, his breathing harsh against your ear. “She’s mine right now,” he says darkly, his hips snapping harder. “And she’s going to cum on my cock exactly like this.”
You can only moan in response, the sound muffled against the pillow as Jisung starts peppering kisses along your cheek and jaw, letting his free hand slide down your side. He stops just short of touching your clit, teasing you with the ghost of contact.
Minho notices and smirks against your skin. “Go on, Ji. Make her lose it faster.”
Jisung obeys instantly — fingers finding your clit in tight, fast circles that match Minho’s punishing pace.
The combination is lethal — Minho’s deep, heavy thrusts pressing every nerve inside you, Jisung’s perfect rhythm on your clit, the praise and filth dripping from their voices — it’s too much.
Your orgasm tears through you violently, your legs shaking, your moans breaking into sobs as your walls clamp around Minho. He fucks you through it, relentless, groaning at the way you squeeze him until he spills into you again, grinding deep to make sure none of it leaves you.
Jisung keeps rubbing you even after, murmuring soft praises against your ear while Minho stays inside, heavy and possessive over your back.
You’re still flat on your stomach, chest pressed to the mattress, arms stretched out above you. Your body’s limp from the last orgasm, but Minho hasn’t moved — his weight still holding you down, his cock still buried deep inside you.
Every little shift of his hips makes you twitch, the sensitivity turning into a low hum of pleasure and ache.
Jisung’s still next to you, brushing sweat-soaked strands of hair from your face. He’s grinning, voice low and sweet when he says, “You did so good for us, baby.”
Minho hums in agreement, but the sound is dark, edged with something that makes your stomach flutter. “Good… but not done.”
Before you can react, Minho starts moving again — slow.
Not the brutal pace from before, but deep, grinding thrusts that make you feel every inch of him sliding through your overstimulated walls.
You let out a shaky whimper, your hands fisting the sheets. “M-Minho—”
He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. “Shh. You can take it.” Another long, deliberate push has your back arching. “You’re going to take it until I say you’ve had enough.”
Jisung chuckles softly, leaning closer to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. “He’s right, you know. You’re so pretty like this.”
His lips trail lower, kissing along your jaw, your neck, down to your shoulder where he bites just enough to make you gasp. His hand finds yours above your head, fingers curling around your own.
Minho’s pace stays maddeningly slow — each thrust pushing deep, holding for a beat, then pulling back so agonizingly that you whine in frustration.
“You want it faster, don’t you?” he murmurs.
“Yes—” you breathe out desperately.
“You don’t get to decide.” His hand snakes up, fingers gripping the back of your neck, pinning you more firmly into the mattress. “But you can beg.”
You’re just about to speak when Jisung shifts closer, his face hovering above yours. His smile is wicked but his voice is tender. “Kiss me, baby.”
You do — slow at first, but when Minho gives a particularly deep thrust, the kiss turns messy, your moan swallowed into Jisung’s mouth.
Minho’s breathing roughens at the sight, and without warning, his hips slam forward harder, making you cry into Jisung’s lips.
“That’s it,” Minho growls. “Kiss him while I fuck you.”
Jisung keeps kissing you through it, one hand cupping your cheek, the other sliding down your back to rest on Minho’s wrist in silent encouragement. Every time you moan into his mouth, Minho thrusts deeper, the rhythm picking up in tiny increments until your hips are jerking back against him on instinct.
“You’re ours,” Minho says low, his voice vibrating through your whole body. “Say it.”
You pull back from Jisung just enough to gasp, “Yours—both of yours—”
The sound makes Jisung moan softly, leaning in to kiss you again, and Minho finally gives you what you’ve been begging for — snapping his hips forward in fast, deep strokes while still keeping you pinned under his weight.
You’re gone again within seconds, the coil in your belly snapping so violently you’re left gasping into Jisung’s mouth, your whole body trembling as Minho fucks you through it, his groans low and satisfied against your ear.
Minho finally eases out of you, leaving you sprawled on your back, flushed and panting. Before you can even catch your breath, Jisung’s there — hands gripping your hips, eyes dark and locked on yours.
“Mine,” he mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself, and then he’s inside you in one sharp, needy thrust.
“Ji—!” you cry out, your back arching, but he’s already moving — no build-up, no teasing, just raw, relentless pace. His hips slam into yours again and again, the force making your breasts bounce wildly with each thrust.
Minho, sitting back to watch for a moment, lets out a low, appreciative groan. “Fuck, look at her,” he says, voice thick. “You see the way she moves for you?”
“I can’t—stop—” Jisung’s words are broken by panting moans. His gaze keeps darting between your wrecked face and your bouncing tits, and then he’s lowering himself to bury his face in your chest.
He mouths at the soft flesh, sucking marks into your skin, his moans muffled as he breathes you in like he’s addicted. “I’m—so fucking obsessed with these,” he admits, his voice wrecked, “and you—fuck—just you—”
You’re a mess beneath him — every sharp thrust jolting through your body, the wet sound of him pounding into you mixing with the slap of skin and your own broken moans.
Minho’s hand drags over his own thigh, and you catch the movement — he’s hard again, impossibly, watching you both with that dangerous glint in his eyes.
He leans forward, crawling up behind Jisung, one hand sliding over his back. “Move your knees forward,” Minho says, his tone low and commanding.
Jisung obeys without thinking, still rutting into you like a man possessed. You feel the mattress dip behind him, Minho’s presence close, heat radiating against both of you.
And then Minho’s pushing inside Jisung — slow, deliberate, until he’s fully seated.
Jisung’s head tips back instantly, a strangled moan ripping from his throat, his thrusts into you faltering for only a moment before Minho’s hand fists in his hair.
“That’s it,” Minho growls against his ear, starting to thrust into him with deep, powerful strokes that rock both of you forward. “Fuck her. Don’t you dare slow down.”
The effect is insane — every time Minho drives into Jisung, Jisung slams harder into you, the pace brutal and unrelenting. The bed frame is knocking against the wall, the air thick with heat, sweat, and the scent of sex.
Your tits are bouncing with every single thrust, drawing desperate moans from Jisung, who can’t seem to keep his mouth off you — kissing, licking, sucking marks into your skin between gasps.
The sound in the room is obscene — Jisung’s breathless cries, Minho’s low groans, your own wrecked moans, and the wet slap of skin.
“F-fuck—Min—” Jisung’s voice cracks, his body shaking between you both. “She—feels so—oh my god—”
Minho’s grin is pure sin. “Yeah? Then give her more. She can take it.”
And Jisung does — hips snapping into you faster, harder, until you’re clinging to the sheets, your body jerking with each punishing stroke, your mind fogged with nothing but the relentless, overwhelming pleasure.
Jisung’s pounding into you like he’s lost all sense, hips snapping hard and fast, his face buried in your tits, moaning every time they bounce against his mouth.
Minho’s watching — not idly, but with that laser focus he gets when he’s about to take over. His eyes trail from your flushed, wrecked face down to the obscene connection between you and Jisung, the wet slap echoing in the room.
Without warning, Minho shifts up behind Jisung, one large hand sliding down your thigh. “Let go,” he says firmly, and Jisung immediately frees your hips.
Minho grabs both your ankles himself, his grip strong, spreading them wide before folding you in half — knees pressed to your chest, your entire body bent and open for him to see everything.
“Hold them here,” he orders, forcing your legs against you as Jisung groans at the new angle.
“Oh, fuck—” Jisung’s head tips back, his thrusts suddenly hitting impossibly deep, the position making every stroke grind against that sensitive spot inside you.
“Better, isn’t it?” Minho smirks, still keeping your ankles pinned as he pushes Jisung forward with the roll of his hips, fucking into him from behind. Every thrust he gives Jisung forces him to slam harder into you, the bed creaking under the force.
Your breasts are bouncing wildly now, every motion sending shockwaves through your overstimulated body. Jisung can’t stop staring, his mouth falling open before he dives down to suck a nipple into his mouth, his moan vibrating through you.
“She’s shaking,” Minho growls from behind, eyes locked on the way your body quivers under them. “You’re wrecking her, Ji. Don’t you dare stop.”
“I can’t—she feels so—fuck—” Jisung’s voice breaks, his thrusts turning desperate and erratic, his hips chasing Minho’s relentless rhythm.
The pressure builds fast — between the bruising pace, Minho’s iron grip on your ankles, and Jisung’s mouth dragging across your chest to mark you up, you can feel yourself spiraling.
“Cum for us,” Minho commands, his voice low and sharp. “Now.”
Your body obeys before your brain can catch up — the orgasm tearing through you, white-hot, and then you’re squirting. Hard.
It gushes out in waves, soaking Jisung’s stomach, dripping down onto Minho’s thighs where he’s still driving into him.
Jisung lets out a choked moan, eyes wide as he watches you make a mess all over him, his pace faltering for half a second before Minho growls, “Don’t stop,” and slams into him harder.
You’re trembling, gasping, your walls still fluttering around Jisung as he keeps rutting into you, the overstimulation blurring the line between pleasure and pain until you’re whimpering uncontrollably.
Minho finally eases his grip just enough to drag his hands down your legs, gripping your hips and keeping you right where they want you. The room is humid with heat, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex, and neither man looks like they’re anywhere close to stopping.
Your release is still dripping down Jisung’s thighs and onto the sheets when Minho finally loosens his hold on your ankles. Jisung slows just enough to catch his breath, still buried deep inside you, chest heaving.
Minho’s hand drags possessively up your leg, his eyes fixed on the mess between you. “Look at you,” he says, voice dark but edged with pride. “You squirted all over us, baby.”
Jisung lets out a breathless laugh, leaning down to press a sweaty kiss to your collarbone. “That was so hot. You’re so fucking perfect.”
Your head lolls to the side, a lazy, delirious smile curling on your lips. “M’perfect,” you murmur, voice rough and airy. “Don’t stop.”
Minho’s brows lift slightly. “Not too much for you?”
“Not enough,” you answer, grinning through your wrecked haze, sweat-slick hair sticking to your face.
That’s all the confirmation Minho needs. His smirk returns, sharp and wicked. “Then let’s really ruin you.”
Before you can process, his hands are on both you and Jisung — gripping Jisung’s hips, keeping him inside you as he flips the both of you in one practiced, filthy movement.
Now you’re on your stomach, chest flat to the mattress, Jisung sprawled over your back, still inside you, his breath coming in ragged pants. Minho stays behind him, cock still buried deep in his ass, not giving either of you a moment to adjust before he starts moving again.
The effect is instant — every thrust from Minho drives Jisung forward into you, the motion pressing you hard into the bed. You can barely move, pinned between their bodies, the deep, double rhythm hitting you in perfect sync.
Jisung groans against your ear, his hands sliding over yours to pin them above your head. “Fuck—she’s so tight like this—”
Minho leans over him, voice low and taunting. “And you’re not going to last if you keep whining like that.” His hips snap harder, making both of you cry out.
The bed is rocking, the wet slap of skin obscene in the humid, sex-thick air. You’re gasping into the sheets, your body jolting forward with every coordinated thrust, the overwhelming pressure building all over again despite how many times you’ve already come.
“Min—” Jisung’s voice cracks, his pace into you getting frantic as Minho’s thrusts grow more punishing.
“Don’t you dare finish yet,” Minho warns, his hand gripping the back of Jisung’s neck and forcing him to arch over you more. “She’s not done, and neither are we.”
You can only moan in response, body trembling between them, each deep stroke pushing you closer to another release you didn’t think you had in you.
Minho doesn’t let up, not even for a breath. His hands slide from Jisung’s neck to his shoulders, pulling him — and you with him — upright until the three of you are kneeling on the bed.
You’re perched on Jisung’s lap now, still fully impaled on him, your back pressed to his chest. Minho stays behind, still buried inside Jisung, his hands gripping both your hips over Ji’s as if you’re just his to move.
He doesn’t just thrust — he uses you both, yanking your hips up and forcing you back down in perfect rhythm with every deep snap of his hips into Jisung. The motion has you bouncing on Ji’s cock helplessly, the angle hitting that spot inside you with merciless precision.
Your head falls back onto Jisung’s shoulder, a high, broken moan spilling out before you can stop it. “F-fuck—oh my god—”
Jisung’s arms lock around your waist, holding you tighter as he groans into your ear. “You’re gonna make me lose it—fuck—you feel so—” His voice breaks into a whine as Minho slams into him from behind, forcing him deeper into you.
“Not yet,” Minho grits out, his voice low and commanding in Ji’s ear. “You’re going to finish with her. At the same time. Got it?”
“Y-yeah—yeah—” Jisung pants, hips rolling up into you desperately, chasing the friction even as Minho keeps him caged.
The pressure in your belly coils tighter, every nerve on fire. Minho’s grip on your hips grows bruising, bouncing you faster, your breasts jiggling with each harsh drop. The sound of skin slapping fills the air, wet and filthy.
“Look at her,” Minho growls, leaning over Ji’s shoulder to watch your wrecked face. “She’s right there.”
“I—I’m—” you gasp, your nails digging into Jisung’s thighs for something to hold onto.
“Do it,” Minho orders, snapping his hips harder, dragging a raw moan from Ji. “Cum for us. Both of you. Now.”
The command breaks you — the orgasm ripping through you so violently your legs try to give out, your walls clenching around Jisung so tight he chokes on his next breath.
“F-fuck—fuck—” Jisung’s moan is loud and unrestrained, his hips jerking erratically as he spills inside you, every pulse sending another wave of pleasure tearing through you.
Minho doesn’t stop moving, fucking into Jisung through his climax, keeping you bouncing even as your whole body trembles in overstimulation.
By the time the aftershocks fade, you’re slumped against Ji’s chest, both of you breathless and shaking — and Minho’s still hard, still deep, still in control.
Your body is jelly — overstimulated, trembling, every nerve still humming from the last release. You can feel yourself swaying in Ji’s lap, your vision threatening to go hazy.
“Min…” you manage, your voice small and raw. “…I need—”
You don’t even get the words out before Minho’s hands tighten on your hips, steadying you. His tone softens just enough to cut through the haze. “It’s okay, baby. You can stop. Don’t push past it.”
You nod weakly, your head falling against Jisung’s shoulder in surrender. Minho helps lift you off him, guiding you down onto the mattress beside them. You flop onto your back, chest heaving, hair plastered to your sweaty face.
“Breathe,” Minho murmurs, brushing his knuckles along your jaw. “You did perfect.”
You’re still catching your breath when Minho’s gaze shifts — sharp, hungry — back to Jisung.
“You,” he says, voice dropping into something low and dangerous. “We’re not done yet.”
Jisung’s already panting, sweat dripping down his temples, his cock still flushed and hard. “M-Minho—”
“No.” Minho cuts him off, gripping Ji’s chin between his fingers. “You’re not walking away until I say so.”
Without warning, Minho shoves Jisung forward onto his hands and knees, climbing up behind him with a dark, focused look. His hands drag down Ji’s back, nails scratching lightly, before gripping his hips hard enough to bruise.
And then he’s inside — one deep, brutal thrust that makes Jisung’s arms nearly buckle.
“F-fuck!” Jisung cries out, his head dropping between his shoulders, moans spilling out before he can stop them.
From your vantage point, sprawled on the bed, you have a perfect view — Minho’s hips snapping into Ji with ruthless precision, each thrust making his muscles tense and ripple. The slap of skin is sharp and loud, echoing in the humid air.
Minho’s pace is relentless, his grip unyielding. “You like putting on a show, don’t you?” he growls, leaning over to mouth at the back of Ji’s neck, his teeth scraping skin. “Letting her watch you fall apart.”
Jisung can only nod weakly, gasping as Minho changes angle, driving deeper. His moans are raw, shaky, high-pitched — the kind that make your thighs twitch even though you can’t handle another touch.
“Answer me,” Minho demands, punctuating each word with a thrust that rocks Ji forward.
“Y-yes—fuck—Minho, yes—”
“That’s what I thought.”
Minho grabs Ji’s wrists, pulling them behind his back and holding them there with one hand while the other fists in his hair, arching his back into a deeper curve. The loss of balance makes every snap of Minho’s hips hit harder, dragging louder, broken cries from Ji.
“You take it so well,” Minho praises, voice low but laced with heat. “I could fuck you like this all day.”
From where you’re lying, you can see Ji’s face — flushed, mouth parted, eyes half-lidded, sweat dripping down his neck. Every time Minho pulls him back by the hair, his moans get louder, needier, the sound dripping with pure want.
Minho’s pace only grows rougher, the wet slap between them echoing louder than before. His own groans are getting heavier now, jaw clenched as his thrusts turn into a full-on rut.
The sight is filthy, hypnotic — Ji’s body rocking under Minho’s control, the air filled with breathless cries, grunts, and the raw rhythm of skin on skin.
Minho’s thrusts slow for just a second — not to ease up, but to shift his grip. One hand leaves Ji’s wrists, the other releases his hair, and before Jisung can even catch his breath, Minho flips him onto his back in one smooth motion.
Ji lands sprawled, chest rising and falling fast, hair sticking to his damp forehead. His cock is still flushed and leaking, his mouth parted like he’s struggling to come back to earth.
Minho doesn’t give him the chance. He grabs both of Ji’s thighs, shoving them up and apart before driving back in with a force that makes the headboard slam against the wall.
“F-fuck!” Jisung’s head tips back, eyes screwing shut, but Minho catches his jaw in one hand.
“Look at me,” he orders.
Ji obeys instantly, locking eyes with him even as another moan breaks free. Minho leans down, their mouths colliding in a hot, filthy kiss — all tongue, teeth, and low groans. Ji’s hands come up to clutch at Minho’s shoulders, pulling him in closer, deepening the kiss until it’s nothing but desperate gasps between thrusts.
From where you’re lying, you can see everything — the way Minho’s hips snap forward, the way Ji’s body rocks with each brutal push, the sloppy sounds of their mouths working against each other between moans.
You’re still sprawled out, your body spent to the bone, but the heat in your belly is undeniable. Your thighs shift restlessly, the ache low and deep, even though you know you couldn’t take another touch if you tried.
Minho breaks the kiss just long enough to growl against Ji’s lips, “You love letting her watch, don’t you?”
Ji nods frantically, whining into his mouth, “Y-yeah—fuck—” before Minho swallows the rest in another bruising kiss.
It’s filthy — their lips wet, sliding, gasps breaking the rhythm before they crash back together. Minho’s hand grips Ji’s jaw tight, keeping him right there while pounding into him so hard the mattress squeaks under the strain.
Your own breath is coming faster just from the view — the sweat glistening on their bodies, the raw sounds, the tension in Minho’s shoulders as he fucks into Ji like he owns every inch of him.
And Ji… Ji’s just gone, clinging to Minho’s arms, kissing him back like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality, moaning into his mouth with every sharp thrust.
Minho breaks their kiss just long enough to trail his mouth down Ji’s jaw, then lower — his lips brushing over the slick skin of his neck, down the slope of his collarbone.
Jisung’s already moaning from the loss of Minho’s mouth on his, but the second Minho latches onto his chest, sucking hard over one firm, sweat-slick pec, the sound that rips from him is downright filthy.
“F-fuck—Min—” Ji’s voice cracks as Minho’s teeth scrape lightly, his tongue following to soothe before he sucks another mark just above Ji’s nipple.
“God,” Minho groans against his skin, his hips never stopping their brutal rhythm, “I’m obsessed with your tits just as much as hers.”
Ji lets out a shaky laugh that dissolves into another moan when Minho’s hand comes up to pinch and roll the other nipple between his fingers, his mouth still working the first until it’s swollen and sensitive.
The double sensation has Ji writhing under him, his thighs trembling from the overstimulation, every thrust from Minho dragging another desperate sound from his throat.
“You like that?” Minho taunts, his voice muffled against Ji’s chest. “Getting fucked and sucked until you can’t even think?”
“Yes—yes—fuck—” Ji’s almost whining, his hands clutching at Minho’s hair now, pulling him closer as if he can’t stand even a millimeter of distance.
Minho switches sides, giving the other pec the same treatment — licking slow circles around the nipple before biting down just enough to make Ji gasp and arch into him.
The sight is obscene from your vantage point — Minho pounding into Ji mercilessly while mouthing over his chest, Ji’s head thrown back, mouth open in pure pleasure, sweat running down his flushed skin.
When Minho finally drags his mouth back up to Ji’s, it’s not gentle — it’s a filthy, claiming kiss, tongues sliding, breath mingling as Minho fucks him right through it.
Ji moans into his mouth with every thrust, the sound vibrating between them, his hands fisted in Minho’s hair, their bodies slick and straining together.
And then Minho growls against his lips — low, sharp, primal — as his hips snap forward in a final, deep thrust. His whole body tenses, his grip tightening on Ji’s jaw as he spills inside him, kissing him through every pulse until they’re both gasping for air.
When he finally eases back, Minho doesn’t pull out — he just slumps down on top of Ji, their chests pressed together, their breaths syncing in the heavy, humid air.
Jisung turns his head to look at you, still sprawled where you’d been watching, and gives you the most wrecked, lazy grin you’ve ever seen. Minho’s still inside him.
The room is thick with the smell of sex, the sheets a tangled mess beneath all three of you. Your body is still humming, but exhaustion has your limbs heavy, your eyes half-lidded.
Minho finally pulls out of Jisung with a low, satisfied hum, his hand on Ji’s hip to steady him when he lets out a shaky gasp. Ji collapses fully onto his back beside you, flinging an arm over his eyes like he’s trying to catch his breath after running a marathon.
“God… I’m dead,” he groans, voice raspy. Then, without moving his arm, he blindly reaches for you, fingertips brushing your thigh. “Come here, baby. Need you close.”
You can’t help but laugh softly, scooting over until you’re tucked against his side. His arm immediately wraps around you, pulling you to his chest — sweaty, warm, and still faintly trembling from everything Minho put him through.
Minho disappears for a moment, and when he comes back, he’s carrying a warm, damp cloth. He kneels on the mattress beside you, his expression softer now as he gently wipes between your legs, murmuring, “Easy… you’ve been through enough today.”
The touch is tender, almost reverent, so different from how rough he’d been minutes ago. Once he’s satisfied, he tosses the cloth into the hamper and climbs into bed behind you, caging you between him and Jisung.
“Better?” he asks, his lips brushing your shoulder.
“Mhm,” you hum, the sound sleepy and content.
Ji’s fingers lazily trace shapes over your arm. “You looked so hot watching us,” he says, voice low, still a little breathless. “Kinda wanna make you watch more often.”
Minho smirks against your skin, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you back into his chest. “She’d love it. Wouldn’t you, baby?”
You don’t even have the energy to answer — just a faint smile as your eyes drift shut. Ji presses a soft kiss to your forehead, Minho’s hand rubbing slow circles over your stomach.
The three of you lie there tangled together, the air warm and heavy, your heartbeats slowing in sync. Ji’s grip on you never loosens, even as his breathing evens out, and Minho stays awake a little longer, quietly watching you both like he’s making sure you’re really okay.
Eventually, the exhaustion wins, and the world fades away with the steady comfort of their bodies around you.
————————————
TO BE CONTINUED
(sorry idk how many parts this fic is gonna be but i keep dragging it🧍🏻♀️)
now honestly i wrote this part for fun it’s nothing serious happening but straight up P0RN 😁 not proof read idc to i don’t even want to re-read it to fix it up so if there’s stuff that don’t make sense or sound wrong/ grammerly wrong I DONT CARE 💀 i can’t read this
guys help… i have so much in mind and wrote so much already but im just not satisfied wirh any of the stuff i wrote i need your help how do i go on from here seriously🧍🏻♀️ like how should i have this end or how should i continue it
SERIOUSLY HELP A GIRL OUT THIS IS ALL TOO MUCH WITH WORK AND EVERYTHING ALL THE STRESS ON ME I CANT THINK
