Lmfao hi again, hope its okay to just copy paste it. Gonna change like two things tho haha-
For the Christmas event, could I get minsung x reader? dom!afab!reader, switch!minho, and sub!jisung, please, with a bookstore AU? Reader works at the store and minsung purchases increasingly more...spicy books, maybe asking reader for recommendations "in the genre". Eventually reader offers to help them recreate one of the scenes from the book, maybe in the bookstore? Up to you!
Romance by the Book [NSFW]
Day Four: Bookstore AU
for #daisy's 12 days of tropemas <3 event!
Summary: You’ve been working at the tiny little bookstore just down the street from your apartment for almost 3 years now. It’s peaceful, the kind of quiet job that keeps you occupied and happy. You fall into a routine, for a while - greet the regulars, fix the shelves, shoo the teenagers out of the 18+ section - but something interrupts your regular shift. Or rather, someones do. Minho and Jisung are an odd duo, and at first, you find yourself put off by them. But as time passes, and they start asking for your advice on some spicier books, you find yourself drawn further and further into their web, until you can’t help but invite them to the break room to recreate some of their favorite scenes from your most recent recommendation.
Warnings: bookstore AU, dom!afab!reader, switch!minho (sub!top for reader, dom!bottom for jisung), sub!top!jisung, threesome, semi-public sex (bookstore back room), petnames (jagi, reader calls minho “kitten” and “kitty” at some points, sweetheart), penetration (reader!receiving, minho!receiving), Jisung has a big dick (this felt relevant to put), swearing, open ending
w.c.: 12.3K
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Happy (very late) Day 4! This is a bit of a behemoth…22 pages of 12pt Times New Roman single-spaced on my Google Doc (RIP my storage </3), but I hope you guys enjoy!!! Minsung is so special to me, and it’s even more special when I get to write it with reader! I think this is my first threesome/thruple fic, so let me know what you think of it. Hopefully (fingers crossed) I cooked!
You hum quietly to yourself, carefully tidying the same shelf for probably the fifth time this shift.
You’ve been working at the bookstore down the block from your apartment for almost three years now. It’s called “48th and 3rd”, a not-so-clever name, since the store is quite literally located on the corner of 48th and 3rd Street. It’s a busy city, and you’d think that the double-rent paying, prime corner spot store would bring in a lot of customers, but very rarely is the bookstore ever teeming with people. Right now is a particularly slow time, barely a trickle of people coming through the doors on a Tuesday at two o’clock. You’ve “fixed” the corner display of YA books enough times that the girl sitting at the little table nearby has stopped bothering to glance up to see what the movement in the corner of her vision is, because she knows it’s you. You suppose you’ll have to hyperfixate on a different display soon, before she gets annoyed by your constant pitter-pattering.
The bite of winter sneaks under the door, the feeble heater barely winning the fight against the draft that nips at your ankles as you bustle around the shop, trying to keep yourself busy. You love your job, and the pay is steady and good enough to pay your rent, bills, and feed you, so you can’t complain, but you might genuinely go crazy when things get slow like this.
As if the universe hears your wish for excitement, the bells on the door jangle, and two loud voices follow. “Welcome in!” you call over your shoulder, not bothering to look back at the source of the voices, too busy fixing the adult winter romance novels at the end of a shelf to be bothered, “Let me know if you need any help.”
“We won’t, but thank you.” A flat voice says, and that has you turning around, because what?
Who says that? Even if you don’t want help, a normal person would just say the ‘thank you’ and move on, or just not say anything back at all. It makes you glance over your shoulder to see who the hell just came into the store, and that’s when you see them for the first time.
You don’t learn it from their first visit, but their names are Lee Minho and Han Jisung, and they’re about to become your least favorite regulars. What you do learn on their first visit is that the cat-like boy on the left is rude, and the chubby-cheeked boy on the right is loud, voice moving a mile a minute at full volume, like he’s unaware that this is a public space that other people are also entitled to. You’ve never seen them in here before, and your hope that you would never see them again is shattered when they somehow manage to come in on every single other one of your shifts for the next three weeks.
Chubby Cheeks has sticky fingers, always pulling books off the shelf to peek inside of them whenever he fancies, just to put them back in the completely wrong place every time. If it was anyone else you would think it was a deliberate move, a spiteful thing to you and the rest of your coworkers, but you genuinely think that Cheeks thinks he’s putting them back in the right spot. He always peers at the row of shelves, his pink lower lip catching between his teeth as he scans the books, mouthing along to words until he carefully puts the book back. Unfortunately for both of you, he has never once figured out where the right spot is, despite your sorting system just being alphabetical and by genre. If you watch him put a sci-fi book into the romance section one more time you might have an aneurysm.
The other boy, who you’ve dubbed “Kitty” in your head (because of how feline he looks, all slitted eyes and sharp teeth), was somehow even worse. You could tell by the amused look on his face and the little glance he sends your way every time his friend puts the books back in the wrong place that he knew Chubby Cheeks was wrong, and he was just letting him be wrong, anyways. It was like a game of cat and mouse, except somehow you were the cat chasing the annoying little mouse who managed to tease you and slip through your fingers every time. Kitty made you more crazy because he didn’t have to do anything to set you off, just use those lazy smiles and sharp eyes just right. He liked to leave coffee rings on tables and “re-organize” your 18+ section (which was in a curtained area on the back). You think he only touches those books himself because when they’re behind the curtain, you can’t 100% tell what they’re up to. You just pray that the two of them don’t get nasty in the adult room, because you know your coworker who’s supposed to be watching it during busier days spends most of his time napping at the “security” desk (as he liked to call it).
It’s halfway through the second week that you have a real interaction with the two of them. The long stares and lazy smiles from Kitty and the big waves and gummy smiles from Chubby Cheeks were all you had gotten from them so far that hadn’t brought you a headache, so when they came bouncing up to the desk (well, Chubby Cheeks was bouncing), you knew you were in for trouble. “How can I help?” you say, trying very, very hard to control your emotions and keep the exasperation out of your voice.
“Hey there! I’m Jisung, and this is Minho! Just thought we would finally say hi, since we always see you here,” Chubby Cheeks start, voice shockingly sweet considering the pain he’s caused you, “Was also wondering if you have any recommendations? I always come in here and just kind of wander aimlessly. Minho over here-” he elbows his friend, who scowls, “-is no help. Could you help a guy out?”
“Jisung, right?” He nods, eager, and you think that maybe, maybe, he might actually be kind of cute.
“Well, for one, I would start by not putting my books back in the wrong places,” you quip, unable to resist, “That’s my first recommendation to you. Second, what are you looking for? Can’t recommend you something if I don’t know your tastes.”
“Jisung just wants to ready the raunchy stuff-”
Jisung quite literally slaps a hand over the other boy’s mouth to shut him up, ears turning red. “I-I do not! And hey, do I really not put them back in the right spot? I thought I always did!”
“No.” you and Minho respond at the same time, delivery so similar it almost startles you.
Jisung rubs the back of his neck, bowing his head. “Shit, sorry. I really did think I was getting it right.”
“I kind of figured,” you said, smiling despite yourself, “Didn’t seem like the kind of guy to do that. Now your friend, on the other hand…you knew the whole time, didn’t you?”
You point an accusing finger at Minho, who just gives you that damned lazy smirk back. “Maybe.”
“Minho! And you didn’t tell me??” Jisung yelps, slapping his arm. “Dude. What the hell?”
Minho just grins wider, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I enjoy watching you suffer.”
“Me or him?” You retort. “Jisung doesn’t have to put those books back in the right spot.”
He just shrugs, and you sigh.
“Anyways. Jisung. We have an 18+ section in the back behind that silly red curtain back there. You can go live out your…fantasies, or whatever. We’ve got a guy back there who can probably give better recs than me. If he’s asleep at the desk just knock on the wood a few times and he should wake up,” you insert, before Minho can say something smart again, “And I can ring you up out here. No funny business this time, you hear?”
Minho raises both of his hands in faux surrender, and Jisung nods back, solemn as can be.
“The only ‘funny business’ we’ll be getting up to is reading whatever tentacle porn nonsense Jisung thinks is hot-”
“Alright, that’s enough out of you! Goodbye, it was nice actually talking to you! Sorry about him! And your books! And me! Okay bye for real now!” Jisung cuts Minho off, heat spreading across his face as he grabs Minho by the wrist and drags him off towards the curtained section.
You wave, laughing quietly to yourself, something like amusement glinting in your eyes. Turns out that Chubby Cheeks and Kitty maybe weren’t that bad, after all. At the very least, Chubby Cheeks - Jisung, you corrected in your own head - seemed nice. You still had some curiosity about Kitty’s intentions, but he didn’t seem all that terrible. You might even upgrade him to real name status in your internal monologue if he stepped up his game just a little bit more.
After that interaction with the “dynamic duo” (the current nickname for the two of them in your head), they always stopped by to say hello to you. Well, Jisung would drag Minho over to you to say hi, and you can understand why Minho wouldn’t be able to resist a pretty boy like Jisung. You’ve been victim to the Jisung pout all of three times now, and each time, you can’t help but fold and give in to what he wanted. How could a sane person ever resist when Han Jisung puffs his cheeks and looks at you with his big, brown boba eyes? You know you can’t, and you’re certain that Minho can’t either, not with the way his eyes get a little soft every time he stares at Jisung for a little too long.
You still can’t decipher what their dynamic really is. At first, you had been convinced that they were just best friends. They had the playful banter, the silly energy, the general vibe of knowing each other so well they don’t have to speak all their thoughts to know what the other is thinking - and yet there was something else there, lying under the surface. Somewhere along the line of your friendship, Jisung revealed that the two of them were roommates, and had been for years. Minho also noted that the books they were purchasing from the back room of the bookstore were their “nightly reading material” (to which Jisung blushed furiously at), which would be a…strange thing for “just friends” to read together, for sure. While you would say that the relationship you have with the boys now has officially crossed the line into actual friendship (Jisung had pleaded for your number two weeks ago and now he either sends you Instagram reels through text daily like a weirdo or texts you about when your shifts are), you didn’t think you were at the kind of place where you could just casually ask “Hey, are the two of you fucking? Dating?” and get away with it.
Another confounding variable is the fact that the both of them could never seemingly stop flirting with you.
You’ve got your bets on their relationship being the open kind right now, because whatever’s going on between you three needs to be studied and dissected by someone more knowledgeable than you. You’ve spent the last week trying your best to figure out what the hell is going on yourself and come up with no results.
Case 1: the two of them keep asking you for recommendations from the 18+ section of the store.
No amount of “we have a guy for that” or “you wouldn’t fuck with what I read, anyways” will ever deter the two of them from leaning over your counter just a little too close and asking for recommendations on dirty books. Close enough that you can smell Minho’s musky scent, or the scent of the sweet drink that Jisung’s drinking on his breath. You don’t think it’s very necessary to lean over the counter at all, really, to get a recommendation, and if it was anyone else, you think you would’ve genuinely considered throwing hands. It should have been creepy, really, it should have, but the two of them had such a weird energy (charm?) about them that you just couldn’t place that made you want to lean in closer.
When you’d finally folded and offered up a recommendation, Jisung actually started clapping with glee, and Minho gave you that same damn lazy smirk, like a cat who just got exactly what it wanted. You’d chosen a boring, straight romance, with a decent amount of sexual scenes that were so extremely vanilla that you honestly just skipped through them to get to the actual plot. Which in itself was pretty lackluster, but there was a twist at the end, so you didn’t fully feel guilty recommending a not-so-great read. You honestly wanted to see what their reaction was before you dipped your toes into some of the more…spicy recommendations, for lack of a better word.
Case 2: Now that you’ve finally folded and started giving them recommendations from the back of the store, they’ve started asking for specific content. No more “what would you recommend?” or “any good books in that section?” from the two of them, rather, they’ve started getting detailed. Jisung still blushes every time he says something remotely “perverted” (Minho’s words, not yours), and Minho says that nastiest, dirtiest things with a flat, almost bored, expression. They’ve been dropping lots of hints about what they’re into through their inquiries, and you’re starting to think it’s on purpose.
The first time, Minho had nudged Jisung, making a little questioning sound in the back of his throat. They had been chatting with you for a bit now at the front of the store, and it was slow, so you didn’t send them off to go do their own thing (yet). You raised an eyebrow, already knowing they were up to something.
“What is it now?” You say, exasperated, “You two are plotting. Spill.”
“I, uhm…I was wondering if you had any books that were, uhm…” Jisung trails off, cheeks flushed, eyes looking anywhere but you, mumbling something incoherent at the end.
“Speak up, jagi,” Minho purrs, elbowing Jisung again, “Use your big boy voice.”
Okay. Nothing could have confirmed that the two of them are definetely fucking, at the very least, more than the way that Minho was suddenly oozing dominance, and the way that Jisung practically melted at the tone of his voice. A twisted part of you felt heat spark under your skin at the glassy look that Jisung was getting in his eyes.
“Was wondering if you had any uhm. Threesome books? Preferably with at least two guys?” Jisung said, shifting nervously from foot to foot, still not looking at you.
“Freak,” you hum, though your voice is a bit airy, “And duh? What kind of bookstore has a full, dedicated 18+ section and doesn’t have a book with a threesome in it?”
“I uhm - not a very good one?” Jisung responds, and you laugh brightly, unable to help yourself.
“Was a rhetorical question, pretty,” you say, unable to help the little petname when Jisung just looked so good right now, “But the answer to your question is yes. I can write you a little list of them, if you’d like.”
“We’d like that, yeah,” Minho responds for both of them, voice still low and raspy, “Are these ones that you like?”
“Some of them,” you respond, sick of the dominance Minho was oozing trying to creep over the counter (you were in charge here, damn it), “You’ll have to try and figure out which ones, though. Here.”
You hold out a post-it note to them, a scrawled list taking up almost the whole square. Minho huffs, amused by your non-answer answer, and takes the post-it from you. Your fingers brush his, and there’s a spike of electricity shooting up your hand, the kind that doesn’t bode well for you. The tension in the air thickens until it snaps, Jisung tugging Minho off towards the back of the store.
“Thanks for the recs, pretty,” Minho teases, waving the post-it note over his shoulder, “We’ll have our guesses lined up the next time we see you.”
You start preparing a list ahead of time, now, pulled straight from your Goodreads (not that you’d tell them that). You start finding books on your own time, the kind of things that you think they’d like - from what you can tell, Jisung likes something where one of the males is dominated, and Minho likes when there’s a fight for dominance - and slipping those into your recommendations. The tension rises and falls every time you see them, no one willing to acknowledge it but everyone aware of its presence.
Case 3 is the second-most damning evidence: they’ve started to tell you what they’re getting up to when they’re reading the books you recommended. Jisung’s the first to start this one, surprisingly, a text buzzing your phone late one night as you’re settling into bed. You see his name pop up at the top of your screen and open it, thinking nothing of it, but you feel heat spread across your cheeks as you read the contents of his message.
“Really, REALLY liked the last book you recommended us!! Min really liked when the switch gave in and subbed for the main girl. Got him super worked up, I had to put the book down to take care of him. If you have more like this one on your list, you’ve got to let us know!”
You read it once more. And then again, for good measure. Did he mean to send this to you? You suppose the answer was yes, unless they had other people who they were getting dirty book recommendations from, which you doubted, considering how often they were in your store bothering you for them.
You were picturing it now. You couldn’t help it, not when Jisung had planted the idea of what they were actually using the books for in your head. You imagine the two of them curled up in bed, pressed into each other, Jisung reading the book out loud. You imagine Minho’s breath hitching when they get to the part where the boy breaks, where he drops to his knees and begs to be used, and you imagine how Jisung keeps reading, voice knowing and teasing. You picture the way Minho would shift, the way that he would start to grind against Jisung’s thigh when he couldn’t help it anymore. The way that Jisung would keep going until Minho couldn’t take it anymore, pushing the book out of his hands and taking what he wanted. Or would he beg, like the boy in the book? Your thighs press together, a warmth and a wetness there that wasn’t there before, and you feel guilt flood your system. These people are your friends. Who were fucking and telling you the vague details about it, sure, but they still were your friends first and foremost. Good friends don’t have dirty fantasies about their friends.
…is what you would say, but you really can’t help it, not when the description of their activities starts to get more explicit. Minho even has the gall to text you a photo from Jisung’s phone, a selfie of the two of them after they’ve clearly fucked. Jisung is passed out against Minho’s bare chest (which you definitely don’t zoom in on and admire), hairy messy and purpling bruises littering his neck and shoulders. The blanket covering them is just high enough that you can’t see the curve of Jisung’s ass or Minho’s cock, but it’s low enough to be a tease, just barely covering their more intimate areas. Minho captions it “This book got particularly dirty…that’s how I know this one’s from you, not just from some list. Jisung liked the part about marking, if you couldn’t tell.”
You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. The two of them were going to be the death of you, of this you were certain. The two of them were perhaps the most open freaks you’ve ever had the pleasure (or displeasure, really) of knowing, and it was messing with your head. You could picture it now: Minho, holding Jisung down just like the book said, using his whole body weight to pin Jisung to the bed. Jisung’s breath would hitch, his voice would falter, and his cock would twitch, pressed against Minho’s in the dirtiest way. You could picture exactly the way that Minho would grind down once, teasing, pressing their cocks together and giving Jisung just a taste of friction before stilling again. Jisung’s got muscle hiding under that innocent facade he wears, but you know he wouldn’t use it, not without permission, and he’d let Minho hold him down, even when he whines from the lack of friction.
You’d imagined their cocks more times than you would like to admit, but you just know Jisung’s cock is pretty, the kind of cock that gets all flushed and red when he’s needy. You’re certain, too, that he’s a leaker, the kind of guy who can’t help but drip when he’s turned on. You bet that when Minho holds him still, leaning forward to let his breath tickle Jisung’s ear as he whispers dirty nothings, Jisung starts leaking, dripping all over both of their cocks. He probably blushes all the way down to his chest when Minho keeps denying him, keeps whispering about all the dirty things he’s going to do to Jisung, but not doing them yet, enjoying the way Jisung is writhing below him. Enjoying the way that Jisung definitely whines, definitely starts begging when it gets to be too little. You bet too, that he’s a crier, the kind of guy who gets teary from pleasure and from denial.
Minho, only after detailing his dirty thoughts to Jisung, would then start grinding them together, hard but slow. This is when he’d press forward and use his mouth to tease Jisung’s neck just like he promised he would, mouth starting kind before he just can’t help himself and he has to bite down. The picture he sent showed a set of teeth marks, red and indented, pressed into Jisung’s shoulder, and you imagine that, when Minho himself can’t hold back anymore, he sinks his teeth into Jisung’s shoulder, body shaking as his pace starts to get desperate. He doesn’t have to hold Jisung down anymore, because Jisung is a puddle underneath him, unable to do anything but cry and take as Minho rubs them together, hips pistoning like he’s fucking Jisung. His mouth moves a mile a minute, telling Jisung how good he’s being, laying there and taking it while Minho is fucking him so hard, so deep. His teeth get meaner against Jisung’s neck, marks overlapping as he marks him, telling him that Jisung belongs to him, that the marks will let everyone know what a dirty slut Jisung is. You imagine that’s what tips Jisung over the edge - the possessiveness in Minho’s voice, the way his mouth gets more desperate on his neck as Minho gets closer to his own release - and Jisung would come with a wail of Minho’s name, hiccuping as he coats both of their stomachs with his cum. It would only take Minho one, two, three more presses of his hips down to come too, a low groan tearing out of his throat as his cum mixes with Jisung’s.
Minho would clean them up as Jisung falls asleep on the sheets, and that’s when he steals Jisung’s phone, waiting until Jisung slips under to send you the photo of them in the afterglow, grinning like a cat who caught a mouse. That’s what tips you over the edge - you don’t know at what point your hand snuck into your pants as you stared at the picture, but it did, and now you’re staining your underwear with your cum, eyes rolling back as you imagine the dirty things that the two of them are doing to each other. The post-nut clarity hits, as it always does, and guilt washes over you again. You have to do the walk of shame to your bathroom to clean yourself up, opting to take a shower to try and scrub away the dirty thoughts you’re having about your friends.
You also realize, with sinking horror, that you never responded to Minho’s text, and that he knows that you read that message. You debate disappearing off the face of the Earth, but opt instead to try and formulate a very normal text that hopefully screams “I did not just frantically jerk myself off to the thought of the two of you doing it to my book recommendation” and hopefully instead says “wow, you two are freaks” but in a cool, positive way. In a “I want in” kind of way, but hopefully also nonchalant. You consider banging your head into the shower wall, because what are you even saying? Nonchalant? What have these two turned you into?
You settle for sending them a thumbs-up emoji, followed simply by “thank you for keeping me updated about your sex life, freaks”, to which Minho replies “Anytime” with a stupid winky emoji. You wish you could reach through the screen and strangle him.
You consider, in a moment of horny, post-nut haze one night, sending them an image back, but you restrain yourself. This is starting to feel like a game, a twisted, horny one, and you don’t want to lose to Minho, of all people. If you fold and admit to the tension, then Minho wins (at least, that’s what you tell yourself).
The worst part is that Minho acknowledges the photo the next time you see him. No “Hi, how are you?” or “Good to see you!” from him. No, instead he strides right in and starts off strong, Jisung hot on his tail, grinning a little too wide to be innocent. He’s wearing a scarf, which barely hides the marks littering his neck. You don’t even try and pretend not to stare.
“He looks good, doesn’t he?” Minho says, eyes half-lidded, “He complained this morning, but last night he was a lot more enthusiastic. Good recommendation, that last one.”
“Thank you, I try,” you drawl back, voice tight and as controlled as you can make it, “And he looked very satisfied last night. You’re lucky it’s scarf weather, otherwise it’d be a lot harder to hide-” you gesture at Jisung’s neck, who has the gall to look sheepish “-all of that.”
Minho grins, and a bold part of you wants to reach over the counter, grab him by the collar, and slam his lips to yours. You don’t, but your fingers twitch against the counter, and Minho catches it. His smile stretches wider, and he nods a head back towards the back of the store.
“Got any more like that last one? Preferably dirtier, if that’s possible.”
“There’s some hentai manga back there, if you just want to skip the whole plot thing,” you say, voice flat, “But I’ve got one for you. Here.”
Your pad of post-it notes has a little less volume now that the two of them have been harassing you for weeks for recommendations, and you make a note to yourself to get more post-it notes on your way home tonight. You pass Minho the note, like you do every week, and he winks, grinning.
“If we like this one as much as the last one, I’ll make sure to let you know.” He says. “You’re the best, you know that?” Jisung pipes up, shifting his scarf a bit higher up his neck, “That last one really was good.”
“If you guys keep being such horndogs I’m going to run out of recommendations one of these days, you know,” you huff back, waving them off, “Now go get your freak books. I have things to do.”
You don’t, but you’re going to do something dumb if you’re around them any longer, like offer them a helping hand or something stupid like that. Jisung, who’s usually oblivious, gives you a knowing look, and you shoot him a half-assed glare.
“We’re going, we’re going!” he says, hands raised in the air in mock defeat. “Don’t have too much fun without us!”
“I won’t.”
Case 4 is the breaking point: Han Jisung is the kind of guy who always gets what he wants, and now, you’re certain that he wants you. You’ve already fallen victim to that pout of his on more than one occasion (there’s no such thing as a “discount for friends of the employees”, but he looked so cute pleading for one that you just had to give him one) and you’ve determined that Minho’s dominance only exists because Jisung wants it to. You’re sure that if Jisung wanted to be in charge, Minho would let him, because Han Jisung will always get what he wants.
Case in point: Han Jisung has started inviting you to meet outside of work. You had jokingly said something about “finally” reaching the friendship tier, and he had thrown a fit.
“We were already friends,” he whined, eyes round and shiny, “Now you’re a new thing. You’ve upgraded beyond friendship.”
“Yeah? What does that entail?” you reply, raising an eyebrow teasingly.
Minho grins, leaning too close across the counter like he always does, “You’ll find out, sweetheart.”
Your thighs press together behind the counter, and you pretend that you don’t see Minho’s eyes flick down.
“Alright, I’ll bite.”
Now you’re hanging out in their shoebox apartment, pressed too close between them on their dinghy couch. Why they always put you between them you don’t know, but it drives you crazy every time. Every “movie night” is full of laughter and cheap pizza and soju, which Jisung can only handle a few sips of before he’s giggly and flushed. Minho has a higher tolerance, but he doesn’t really drink much, more content to watch you and Jisung get a little fuzzy throughout the night. The movie nights become a recurring thing, the tension piling higher and higher, the touches getting bolder and bolder, but still, nothing goes further. Jisung makes sly comments about you staying the night, his fingers dangerously splayed across your thighs, but even when you do fall asleep between them on their couch in a room that smells like stale pizza and alcohol, nothing happens. It’s infuriating, and you think that you might just fold and give in, beg them to let you join them next movie night, but you don’t have to.
Because everything finally, finally comes to a head Friday night.
You’re scheduled to close the shop today, and you wave your coworkers off one by one, until you’re the only one left in the store with an hour to close. The air is dead, the last customer having left thirty minutes ago, and you’re forced to twiddle your thumbs and rearrange the winter romance section again (as if it needs it, not when no one’s touched it in hours). You think your brain might melt out of your ears, and as if you’ve summoned them, the bell clinks at the front door, and Minho and Jisung slink into the store, loud voices filling the empty air.
“Oh god, not you two!” You joke, spinning around. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“This is going to sound silly, but I have a question about the last book you recommended,” Jisung says, pulling out the book out of his bag with some fumbling, “Is that silly? Can I ask you a question about it?”
“Jisung, it’s porn, how could you possibly have a question about it?” You respond, though you’re already sliding behind the counter and tapping in front of you, “Jokes, jokes. Lay it on me.”
“It’s literature, isn’t it supposed to make me think?” Jisung says back, mimicking pushing glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Both you and Minho roll your eyes, and he pouts.
“Okay, tough crowd, I get it,” he says, pressing the book to the counter and flipping through the pages, “Give me a second…hold on…there we go!”
He stops flipping, finger tracing the page until he finds the passage he wants to read.
“Mhm, I remember this part,” Minho hums, low in his throat, pressing himself up behind Jisung, arms wrapping around his middle, “Go ahead, Sungie. Ask your question.”
The air shifts, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you’re alone now with the two of them in the store. Jisung swallows, and the sound bounces around the too quiet store, Minho’s breath catches as Jisung begins to speak again, voice careful, like he knows whatever’s floating between the three of you is fragile.
“Right here,” he says, voice breathless, “The position…I don’t get how it’s possible.”
You lean forward, head almost bumping his as you crane to read the passage. It details three people on a couch, one boy desperately fucking into a girl while she jerks off the boy in front of her. You suppose it has to be a pretty long couch to fit the three people the way the book details, with the boy at the front sprawled out in a way that would only be possible with a decent amount of space.
“Well, this wouldn’t work on your tiny ass couch,” you say, looking at Jisung through your lashes, “It’s either a really big couch, or a poorly written scene.”
“And here, too,” Jisung says, and you realize that your noses are almost brushing, you’re so close, “Read here.”
You do, and it details the two boys eating out the girl at the same time, tongues tangling as they compete to taste her. The one boy is cocky, mouthing off, while the other is desperate, begging for anything that the girl is willing to give him.
You’re picturing them on their knees for you before you can help it, pressed close between your legs, Jisung pleading for a chance to taste while Minho’s mouth is already teasing you without permission. You imagine grabbing Minho by the hair, forcing him back, forcing him to watch while Jisung eats you out, eager and sloppy. You just know that his tongue is uncoordinated but good, the kind of messy that makes up for the poor technique with desperation.
“Hmm, I’m not sure about that one,” you say, though you’re plenty sure, “Forgive me if this is bold, but we’ve got a couch in the back, we could…try it out.”
Jisung’s lips smash to yours, and that’s answer enough. Your eyes flutter close as you press into the kiss, the weeks of tension crashing down on you as your fingers reach across the counter to tangle into Jisung’s hair. He moans into the kiss, and you take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring. He doesn’t put up a fight, letting you dominate the kiss, mouth moving against yours only to follow your lead.
You don’t notice Minho has slipped off until the two of you part for air, breathing heavily. You catch him flipping the open sign on the door to “closed”, and you laugh, trotting over to the entrance where he is. “Feeling left out?” You tease, slipping the key out of your pocket and carefully locking the door, “C’mere, handsome.”
He huffs, like he’s about to deny it, but you’re too fast, fingers grabbing his collar and yanking him down to meet you, lips crashing to his. You distantly hear Jisung mutter a low “Fuck.” from the counter, but you don’t care right now, not when Minho is pressing closer, hands finding your hips so he can drag you against him. You can feel the way he’s already twitching through his pants, and when your tongue swipes across his lower lip, Minho’s tongue tries to press forward, tries to dominate the kiss. You let him, for a moment, before quickly taking over, overpowering him easily and controlling the kiss. He lets out a little sound that you swallow, what sounds almost like a whine, and you grin against his lips.
The two of you break away when Jisung whines, still positioned next to the counter.
“He looks so lonely all by himself,” you say up to Minho, mouth curling when you see how disheveled he already looks, “Let’s go to the back. Don’t want anyone outside to see, do we?”
Minho blinks over to the glass door you’re next to, aware only now of the fact that the two of you were making out right in front of the street. His ears go pink, and you laugh.
“Of course you’re into that,” you huff, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him back towards the counter, “Jisung, c’mon. Back here.”
You guide them behind the counter, and through the door back there. It clicks shut gently behind the three of you, and everything becomes very, very real. You’re here. Alone. With the two boys you’ve been thinking about every time you touch yourself for the past month (probably longer, but you’re not willing to admit that to yourself).
“Okay,” you hum, guiding the three of you until you’re in the break room, standing in front of the couch, “This is happening. You guys are okay with this happening?”
“Are we okay?” Jisung says, like you’d just killed his firstborn child, “You’re kidding, right?? We walked into this store and Minho literally pointed at you and said ‘they’re gonna be our third-’ mmmph!”
Minho slaps a hand over Jisung’s mouth, cheeks pink, the way his eyes avoid yours making it very obvious that Jisung was not supposed to let that slip. Something twists in your gut and in your chest, something warm, but now’s not the time. You relay that to them.
“After this, we’re going over to your apartment, and we’ll talk about all of this,” you say, motioning vaguely between the three of you, “But that’s for later. Right now, I’m going to strip out of my pants and underwear, and the two of you are going to get between my legs like good little things and eat me out, just like the book. Does that sound good?”
Jisung nods so fast you think his head might fly off, and before you can even start unbuckling your belt, he’s dropping to his knees, eyes eager and cheeks flush. Minho rolls his eyes indifferently, though he’s picking at the skin around his fingernails, and he bites the inside of his cheek when he thinks you’re not looking. While he may not be outwardly as eager as Jisung, there’s tension buzzing under his skin, and you can tell that he wants this (even if he won’t say it).
“Both of you, get your cocks out for me, won’t you?” you say, tossing your belt off to god knows where, “Want to see you.”
Jisung moves so that he’s sitting now, not kneeling, kicking off his shoes haphazardly so that he can tug his underwear and sweatpants off in one fell swoop. He gets stuck in one of the pant legs because of his eagerness, and if you weren’t so zeroed in on his massive cock, you would’ve made fun of him.
Any words you would’ve said get caught on your tongue, because holy shit, Han Jisung has a pretty, huge cock. He’s got a nice pinkness to his tip, a flush that spreads just a bit down the shaft of him, too. The length in itself is impressive, the kind of impressive that makes you genuinely doubt your ability to take him inside of you, and the girth of him has your mouth watering, imagining how good he would stretch your mouth if you were to swallow around him.
You save that thought for another time, because Minho is slipping out of his shoes at a leisurely pace, removing his shirt while he does. You don’t remember when the two of them tossed their coats off, but you can see Jisung’s slung over the shitty fold-out table on the other side of the room, and you imagine Minho’s is somewhere nearby. For whatever reason they already ditched them, you’re grateful, because now you get to see the toned expanse of Minho’s stomach, subtle muscle rippling every time he takes a breath. You think his stomach would look even better coated in come. Another thought for another time, you suppose, because he’s stepping out of his pants now, boxers still hugging the curve of his cock. You can’t actually see it, but you can tell he’s smaller than Jisung, but by no means not impressive. He looks at you expectantly, standing in only his boxers, and you let it slide for now. You knew from the second they started dropping more sexual hints that Minho was going to be a brat, anyways.
“He’s so pretty, isn’t he?” Minho coos, still on his feet, running his fingers through Jisung’s hair, “Easy, too. He’ll do whatever you tell him.”
“And what about you?” you respond, tone light but words just a little sharp, “Are you easy, too? Gonna get on your knees and be good for me?”
He hums, like he’s thinking about it, fingers still petting Jisung’s head, “Depends. Is that what you want from me?”
“Minho.”
You’re out of your pants now, fingers carefully hooking under the waistband of your underwear, trying not to rush your movements and give your own excitement away. He tilts his head at you, that damn smirk stretching across his face, and your patience is already snapping. You rip your underwear off and get to Minho in two long strides. His smirk falters, eyes widening a fraction as you close the distance. His hand falls from Jisung’s head as your hand slips up into the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers tangling and then yanking. His mouth falls open uselessly, a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper slipping from his throat before he can choke it back.
“Kneel.”
As if on instinct and not his own voluntary control, Minho drops, knees hitting the shitty rug below him with a dull thunk. Your hand lets go of his hair the second he starts moving, now moving to thread through his hair like he had been doing to Jisung before. Jisung’s cock twitches at the display of power from you, throat nervously bobbing as he watches the two of you with wide eyes, hands pressed into his thighs like it’s the only way he can control them from reaching out and touching.
“So pretty, aren’t you?” you mock, mimicking how he was treating Jisung earlier.
You laugh when he glares up at you, eyes narrow and mouth ticked downwards in a frown that looks more like a pout.
“Mhmm, no, you’re more cute than pretty,” you say to no one in particular, not even really looking at Minho while you say it, “Like a kitten.”
His cock jumps between his legs, still hidden in his boxers, though a suspicious wet patch is starting to form where his cock is straining against the fabric at the name. You would’ve laughed again if not for the choked sound that Minho made when you called him kitten. He sounded so small, and you watch Jisung shiver at the sound too. Your knees threaten to buckle from how turned on you are, so you slip onto the couch before they can, legs spreading and showing off your dripping arousal. Jisung’s jaw drops, eyes zeroed in on your heat, while Minho still tries to act unaffected, eyes locked on a spot behind your head.
Your legs have to spread pretty wide to fit the two of them, and the position isn’t going to be comfortable for long, not with the way that the two of them are sitting. You ponder, before hooking a leg over Jisung’s left shoulder and the other one over Minho’s right shoulder. You press them inwards with just your legs wordlessly, until they’re pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, eye level with your leaking entrance. They’re both breathing heavily, pressed next to each other, and Minho is the first one to break the spell and lean forward, tongue peeking out and licking a tentative stripe up your heat. You arch lightly into the teasing touch, already frustrated with him and he’s barely done anything.
“You can do better than that, can’t you?” You say, digging your right heel into the arch of his back to force him further into you.
He groans against you, tongue moving with more purpose now, dipping into your entrance when he sweeps by it. You let out a little sound at that, breathless and light, and it makes him press into your harder, mouth intense and intentional.
You let him have his moment, let him think he’s getting what he wants, before you do exactly what you were picturing, and pull him back by the hair, fingers not exactly nice as they tangle through his hair. He hisses, glaring up at you again like it’s going to do something. From this angle, you can see that one of his hands has found its way to his cock, boxers pulled just low enough to sit below his balls, and he’s been stroking himself steadily while he worked your heat. You roll your eyes, unamused, and he just grins back.
Jisung’s barely been patient. You can see it in the way that he’s quietly shaking, now, crescent indents shaped into the expanse of his honey thighs from physically having to hold himself back. His lower lip is bitten raw, red and swollen from how hard he had to restrain himself from touching or talking. Now, there’s tears sitting on his waterline, and you feel a rush of heat in your abdomen when you realize he’s literally drooling, eyes zeroed in on where he can see your entrance. He’s got a puddle between his thighs of precum, dripping down his thighs and knees and sinking into the rug below him, creating a little wet spot there, too. You think you could come from the sight alone, seeing him so needy and desperate and you haven’t even touched him yet.
“Sungie.”
His head snaps up, eyes locking in on yours, a glossy, desperate sheen to them that makes you coo. Your fingers are still curled meanly into Minho’s hair, and when you see him try to reach for his cock again, you yank, eyes not even looking over. You keep your focus on Jisung, who’s just been so good.
“Been so patient, sweet boy,” you say, voice sweet and soft, a juxtaposition to the tone that you took with Minho, “Do you want a taste?”
“Please.” Jisung says wetly, blinking back tears, body falling forward as he leans as close as he can to your entrance without touching you.
You can feel his hot breath fanning across your entrance, and you clench around nothing, a drip of precum slipping out of you and down onto the couch. His eyes drop to follow that instead, tongue peeking out to run across his lips.
“Go ahead, sweetheart.”
He’s on you before you can finish your sentence, tongue lolling out like a dog desperate for a treat. He’s messy, licking in fat, eager stripes up and down your arousal. He doesn’t waste a single drop of your essence, moaning loudly against you whenever you gush just a little bit more for him. He’s sucking and slobbering, tongue working in uncoordinated, eager strokes that makes your head threaten to fall back and your eyes roll into your skull on multiple occasions.
Minho looks angry, watching Jisung with barely concealed envy. He hasn’t tried to touch himself again, though his fingers are twitching on his lap, clenching and unclenching like he can’t control the tension building in his body.
“You really thought I was going to reward your bad behavior, kitty?” You say, faux disappointment lacing your voice. “I thought you were smarter than that. Only good boys like Jisung get rewarded. Bad boys like you-” you yank his hair again just to watch the way his eyes have to fight not to roll back “-have to be reminded of their place.”
“Sungie’s only good because he’s easy. He’ll fuck anything that breaths,” Minho says through gritted teeth, eyes still glaring but a little more dazed now, “Sorry that I don’t want to bend over and take it like a bitch in heat like he does.”
You laugh at him again, though it slips into a moan when Jisung’s tongue curls just right inside of you and brushes that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You’re close already, but you don’t say it, not when Minho’s still struggling for some semblance of control.
“You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?” you respond, words occasionally interrupted by your moans (or Jisung’s, who you think might be getting more pleasure than you are from eating you out), “I’ve read the books that you like. You like a fight, but you don’t want to win, not really. You want to be put in your place, want to be forced to take it like a…what did you say? ‘Bitch in heat’? Oh, kitty, you’re the one who’s easy.”
Jisung’s tongue rubs at that spot inside of you obsessively now, aware that hitting that spot makes you make the loudest sounds, and you dig your fingers deeper into Minho’s hair, grounding yourself.
“Fuck, just like-hngh! Jus’ like that, Sungie, m-make me feel good.” You pant out, legs twitching on their shoulders as pleasure sparks up your spine.
“I’m going to come,” you state, looking Minho in the eye, “And you’re going to watch. Watch Jisung make me feel good, kitty, watch how it pays off to just let go and listen.”
You stop being able to really form words after that, because now that Jisung knows he has a goal, he’s somehow doubled his already frantic movements, tongue curling and circling that tender bundle of nerves inside of you until your back is arching off the shitty break room couch and you’re coming with a cry of his name. Jisung wails when you come, jaw dropping to drink in every drop. He coated in your arousal and your release, wetness coating his chin and his cheeks, the tip of his nose. It’s hot, and you can’t keep looking or you might just come again.
When you finally stop coming, legs relaxing just a bit around them, you glance down at the two of them - Jisung, who looks just as blissed out as you feel, still mouthing at your sensitive heat, and Minho, who looks like he’s two seconds from committing a murder - and you grin, the same kind of lazy smirk that Minho’s always giving you.
“Don’t be too greedy, Sungie,” you say, and his eyes flick up to yours, still mouthing at you, “Share some with Minho, won’t you?”
He pulls back with a whimper, and Minho goes to lean forward, tongue peeking out, but you shake your head.
“No. Not like that.” You say, voice sharp, and Jisung’s face lights up with realization, and you can almost see the imaginary lightbulb going off above his head.
“What-mmph!” Minho’s eyes widen as Jisung grabs his chin, tilts his face towards him, and slams their lips together. He sinks into the kiss, tasting your arousal on Jisung’s lips, greedy tongue swiping out to press into Jisung’s mouth and get more. Jisung lets him, pliant little thing he is, and the two of them press closer together, like they’re magnets drawn together. Minho’s fingers come to tangle into Jisung’s hair, one hand sliding down to grasp at his hip, maneuvering him to get a better angle, to get more skin to press together. Jisung lets him, one hand coming to paw uselessly at Minho’s chest, the other coming to rest on Minho’s shoulder, fingers curling into the flesh to ground himself. The movement made your legs drop from their shoulders, but you couldn’t care less, not when they were making out so passionately between your legs that you’re already raring to go again, so close to when you already came.
You let them kiss until they can’t anymore, forced to break away to take a deep breath. Both of them look dazed, panting heavily, eyes locked on each other as they try and catch their breath. Only now do you see that Jisung’s cock is so red and angry it’s almost purple, twitching and leaking so much you would think he’s already come with how much of a mess he’s making between his legs.
Minho’s no better, thighs and stomach glistening with the evidence of his arousal, smeared around all obscenely from when he was touching himself earlier. The two of them look like sin, kneeling between your legs on the floor, and you’re forced to shift, body seeking friction, desperate from just looking at them.
Minho sees this and grins, tilting his head to look at you through hooded eyes. “Feeling needy already? You just came.”
“Says you,” you tease, gesturing towards the mess between his thighs, “So wet you might have to throw those boxers out after this, kitty.”
He flushes and bristles, mouth curling into a snarl, and you roll your eyes, speaking up before he can retort.
“Get those off for me, won’t you? And Sungie, in that locker over there, 218, there’s gonna be a little black bag. Could you get the lube out of the front pocket for me? The small zipper pocket all the way at the front, should be in a little purple bottle.”
Jisung nods, stumbling to his feet on shaky legs, fingers fumbling with your locker and bag to find what you requested. Minho’s stood up now too, slipping his boxers off of where they’ve been sitting on his thighs. He’s the only one fully nude, both you and Jisung still dressed from the waist up, and you can tell it bothers him, eyes flicking between the two of you nervously.
“Help me out of this.” you hum, tugging on your shirt lightly, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.
Nimble fingers are finding the hem of your shirt with ease, sliding under it and tugging it off over your head once you lift your arms up to help him. He groans when your skin is exposed, teeth catching his lower lip while his eyes rake over your skin appreciatively.
“How come everyone’s naked without me?” Jisung whines as he comes back over, fingers reaching out to hand you the lube.
You shake your head, using your palm to push his hand back towards him. “You’re welcome to get naked too, Sungie. I want to see your pretty chest, if you’ll let me.”
“C’mon jagi, show yourself off for them,” Minho says, spinning around to face Jisung, fingers already slipping under his shirt to thumb at the warm skin of his hips, “So pretty, let us see the rest of you, hmm?”
Jisung nods dumbly, one hand still clenching the lube bottle. He tries to guide the shirt off with just his free hand, but it gets caught halfway, and he sends Minho a desperate look. Minho sighs, but you watch the way his whole body softens, carefully helping Jisung get his shirt off.
And damn, did you not expect nerdy little Han Jisung to be tatted. Ink sprawls across his chest and up his side, beautiful lettering that makes you want to trace it with your tongue. Minho has the same thought, it seems, because he’s leaning forward and latching his mouth to the tattoo on Jisung’s chest, biting and kissing along the ink. Jisung groans, fingers of his free hand tangling in Minho’s hair. He nips until there’s redness settling into Jisung’s skin there, marks that are sure to be purple and sensitive by tomorrow.
You slip off the couch and slide behind Jisung, fingers dancing up the tattoo on his side, revelling in the way it makes him shiver. Your mouth presses kisses into his shoulder blades, trailing up and up until you’re mouthing at his neck, searching until you find a particularly sensitive spot. When you find one, his mouth falls open into a moan, and you focus your energy there, nipping and kissing there until you’re leaving your own darkening mark on his skin.
You and Minho make eye contact over Jisung’s shoulder, and suddenly you’re leaning forward, both of you, mouths tangling together in a sloppy kiss. Jisung groans, head falling forward to press his forehead against Minho’s shoulder.
“You two are so hot, fuck,” he groans, taking a deep, shuddering breath, “Holy shit. Fuck, can’t look at you guys or I might come, oh my god.”
Minho’s fingers reach around to squeeze at Jisung’s ass as he kisses you, and it makes Jisung jolt between you, teeth sinking into Minho’s shoulder to muffle the sound he makes. Minho makes an appreciative sound into your mouth that you swallow, fingers digging deeper into the fat of Jisung’s ass.
You pull back, voice airy and strained as you direct the two of them. “Minho, on the couch, on your knees. Use the back of the couch to stabilize yourself. Jisung, use your fingers to work him open for me, won’t you?”
Minho blinks up at you, eyes wide. “Me? I don’t- I thought-”
“You thought wrong,” you said smoothly, though you do pause, making sure to look Minho in the eyes as you do, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. But I’ve been picturing you fucking into me while Jisung fucks into you from behind for, like, an unreasonable amount of time-”
He cuts you off with a groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck. Shit. Okay, yeah, that sounds hot, I’m in, holy fuck.”
Jisung laughs, eyes wide, cock still steadily leaking between his legs. “How do you two say this shit with a straight face? Holy shit, you guys are so hot, I think I might’ve died and gone to heaven-”
“Jisung, shut up.” You and Minho both say at the same time, voices both varying degrees of amused and exasperated.
You wave at Minho, almost shooing him to the couch, while you head back to your locker, digging through your bag until you find two condoms. Praise you of the past for being prepared for anything, because otherwise, you’d have to make a very, very horny walk to the Jisung/Minho apartment.
You turn back around and your breath is taken away at the sight. Despite being the one spread out on the couch, back arching and hole presented invitingly, it’s still very clear that Minho is the one in charge, voice shaky but firm as he directs Jisung to touch him. Jisung’s fingers only move the way that Minho directs him to, like he’s just an extension of Minho’s pleasure, and it’s so hot that you consider skipping the foreplay and just jumping whoever will fuck you first. You shake the thought from your head (mostly because you really do want to see Jisung fuck into Minho), but your thighs are sticky as you make your way back over to the two of them, condoms in hand.
Minho’s voice is breathy by the time you’re back over, Jisung already having two of his thick fingers stretching him open.
“Scissor ‘em, jagi, fuck, that’s it,” Minho encourages, voice tense but controlled, “Mhmm, good boy, stretching me so good. Getting me ready for that big cock of yours, yeah? So big but so useless, wouldn’t know what to do with it without us.”
Jisung whines, lip trembling, fingers still working at a steady pace, cock twitching at Minho’s words. You toss one of the condoms onto the couch cushion next to Minho, carefully opening the other package. Jisung hears the tearing of foil and blinks over at you, eyes hazy but holding a question, and you press a quick kiss to his lips, unable to help yourself.
“Focus on Minho, jagi,” you say when you pull away, sliding behind Jisung and wrapping your arms around his midriff, “Make sure he’s nice and ready for you, ignore me.”
He wants to say it’s hard to ignore you when you feel so warm and nice against his back, but he cuts himself off with a loud moan when your hand comes to hold the base of his cock, the other hand carefully rolling the condom down his length. It stretches obscenely around his huge cock, but it doesn’t snap (though it looks a bit like it wants to), and he has the audacity to whimper when you let go to grab at the lube that he abandoned on the rickety side table next to the couch.
You generously coat your hand, coming to rub it up and down Jisung’s length, spreading it generously across him, knowing that, with a monster like that, you actually had to be careful.
“Add a-hah-add a third finger,” Minho grits out, back arching when Jisung listens, “Thaaat’s it, Sh-shiiiit, curl those long fingers for me, you know what you’re lookin’ for-hrk!”
Minho chokes on his own sound when Jisung brushes what you assume to be his prostate, fingers staying curled now and shallowly thrusting, pressing against that spot again and again. Minho’s head falls forward and his chest heaves, knees shaking as he struggles to truly keep himself up as Jisung assaults his prostate.
“That’s enough, Sung,” you hum once you see Minho start to get close, thighs clenching in a way that makes you know he’s going to come, “He’s ready for you.”
You reach forward and slap Minho’s ass as Jisung pulls out, watching with sharp eyes at the way his flesh jiggles when you do. He glares half-heartedly over his shoulder, but takes a moment to catch his breath, before standing up on jello legs. Jisung helps him steady himself, and you take Minho’s place on the couch, ass up and arms resting on the back of the couch for support. You’re so wet you don’t think you’ll need any prep, already loose and ready from your orgasm and how turned on your are. Plus, the burn is part of the pleasure, and Minho’s not big enough to hurt, but definitely big enough for you to still feel it.
Jisung leans around the two of you to grab at the condom you abandoned earlier, hastily tearing open the foil and rolling it down Minho’s length from behind him. Minho makes a little sound in his throat, but lets him do it, lip catching between his teeth once it’s all the way on. Jisung reaches again for the lube, but your hand shoots backwards, grasping at his wrist blindly.
“No need,” you say, need evident in your tone, “I’m wet enough. Now hurry up, before I go and take care of myself.”
It’s an empty threat - you’re not going anywhere, not when the two of them are right here and ready - but it kickstarts both of them into motion. Minho reaches down and uses one hand to guide his tip to tease your entrance. He circles it once, twice, before his hips buck and he’s pressing into you. It’s definitely a stretch, but it’s the good kind, and you both groan as he sinks into you. He fucks forward shallowly until he’s buried in you to the hilt, breath labored as he twitches inside of you. He goes to pull back but you hiss back, glaring at him over your shoulder.
“Don’t you dare move yet,” you say, eyes hard and heavy, “Gotta let Jisung stretch you open first. Fuck, you feel so good inside of me, kitty.”
“S-stop calling me that,” he huffs, but the way his eyes are glazed over is very telling of how he really feels, “Sungie, jagi. Put that useless cock of yours to good use, won’t you? Can you fuck into me, jagi? Stretch me open real good?”
Jisung nods, whimpering. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Can I- can I touch you?”
“Of course,” Minho says, voice a little too soft around the edges, “C’mon, jagi. Don’t make me wait.”
When Jisung finally thrusts in, the thrust reverberates through Minho and into you, forcing Minho even deeper into your heat. You groan as Minho moans, his upper body falling forward, his chest pressing into your back down as his entrance stretches to accept Jisung’s impressive girth.
“Feel good, kitty?” You tease, reaching a hand back to run through Minho’s hair, his breath hot on your neck.
When you don’t get a response, you crane your head to catch a glimpse of him, and the sight makes you clench. Minho’s eyes are glassy and there are tears dripping down his flushed cheeks, mouth opening and closing uselessly as Jisung thrusts into him, hips frantic as he tries to get himself fully inside Minho. Jisung’s gone too, fingers digging deep into the fat of Minho’s hips, mouth open and drool slipping out of his mouth again. He’s babbling, incoherent words and slurs of both of your names, hips bucking into Minho like they have a mind of their own. He’s not even in all the way, you realize, the base of his cock still not inside of Minho. His little micro-thrusts that he’s using to stretch Minho open send jolts of pleasure through both of you, and you have to let your head fall forward into the couch cushions, the sparks of pleasure almost overwhelming.
“G-good boy, Jisung,” Minho moans out once he can speak again, voice almost an octave higher than it normally would be, “Using that-fuck! b-big fucking cock to fuck me so good, that’s it.”
You reach back behind you blindly, making a grabby hand at Jisung. He understands, even when he’s drunk on the feeling of Minho around him, and grabs onto your hand, fingers tangling as he finally, finally sinks all the way into Minho.
All three of you let out a moan when he does - the feeling overwhelming for every party involved - and for a moment, you all just sit there, fully joined together, bodies heaving as they struggle to breath through the heady swirl of sex and desire in the air. No one speaks, not out of want, but because you can’t. Minho feels so good on both ends, hole stretched wide by Jisung, the fat tip of his cock rubbing against that sweet spot inside of him, and your wet heat swallowing his cock on the other end, clenching and so hot that he thinks his dick might melt off from the pleasure.
“Please.” Jisung croaks, a broken sound, shaking behind Minho.
“Go ahead, jagi,” you groan, bucking back into Minho just to hear him whimper, “Use Minho’s hole to get yourself off like a good boy. Make us feel good. Come whenever you want-shit!”
All coherent thought is thrown out the window when Jisung does start to move, pulling almost fully out before slamming back in to the hilt. The couch squeaks as he thursts, hard and rough, fucking Minho and making Minho fuck you in turn. Jisung’s drunk on the feeling, babbling nonsense again, bucking hard and fast in a way that has everyone seeing stars. His hand lets go of yours to dig into Minho’s hip again, and Minho finds the hand he dropped, holding onto it for dear life as Jisung ravages the both of you.
Minho’s hips jolt forward on their own when Jisung pulls back, trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he’s getting from behind, but it just shifts the way he’s fucking into you, and it makes his tip press right into your sensitive bundle of nerves. You almost scream, pressing back into him just as Jisung bucks forward, and that’s what pushes Minho over the edge. He comes with a cry, a flurry of “please” mixed with your name and Jisung’s.
“Ooooooh, fuck, fuck fuck fuck-” Jisung starts, hips twitching and each thrust getting harder and harder, “I’m coming. Ohmygod - ‘m comin’, ‘m comin’, shit shit shit fuck me, oh my god-nnngh!”
When Jisung comes, another micro-orgasm shakes through Minho at the pulsing of Han in his ass, and that’s what gets you. Minho can’t stop the way his hips try to buck into you again as he pulses for a second time, less this time, but the final push against your sweet spot makes everything come crashing down, that coil in your stomach snapping.
Jisung collapses on top of Minho, pressing Minho deeper into you, and the both of you groan, overstimulated and still pulsing through the end of your orgasms. Jisung’s heavy, too, and you’re borderline support two fully grown men right now, and your post-orgasm legs can’t handle it. Minho grunts, elbowing Jisung frantically, feeling you start to give out under him. “Jagi. Jisung. Get off, you’re heavy.”
“Please,” you groan out, body tired and quaking, voice muffled from how you’re pressed into the cushions, “You two are crushing me. I’m going to die under here.”
Jisung just groans, but obliges, pulling out of Minho and haphazardly throwing himself on the couch next to you, sinking into the cushions. He looks pleased, and still not fully back down to Earth, a dopey grin stretching across his cheeks.
When Minho pulls out of you carefully, the two of you hiss, everyone just a little too sensitive for that to feel good. You collapse forward into the couch fully once he’s out of you, rolling so that your back presses into where your chest was pressed before.
Minho starts to clean up quietly, waddling around like a penguin on his shaky legs. You carefully pull the condom off of Jisung’s cock and tie it, tossing it into the trashcan that’s conveniently near the couch. You’re sure this isn’t what your manager thought that trashcan would be used for, and you make a mental note to take out the employee trash on your way out tonight.
Minho returns with damp paper towels and a tied condom, which he tosses into the trashcan with Jisung’s. He wipes down Jisung’s thighs first, to which he just hums gently, not even bothering to open his eyes and see who’s cleaning him up. Minho places a kiss on his forehead once he’s done, and Jisung grins even bigger.
“Feeling okay?” Minho says, voice low, like he’s trying not to disturb Jisung (who’s rolled into your shoulder and snuggled up into you, pressing lazy, open-mouth kisses to your shoulder).
“Mhm,” you hum, lidded eyes blinking up wearily at him, “What about you? I can clean up, you know.”
“I like this part,” he admits, shaking his head at your offer, “It helps me come down, feel more like normal Minho not…”
“Not sexy bedroom Minho?” you tease, and he rolls his eyes. “Though normal you is still sexy. Very sexy, actually.”
“Be quiet,” he huffs, carefully cleaning you up, “Say that word enough and you’ll wake up the monster.”
“‘m not a monster,” Jisung slurs against your shoulder, finally present enough to hear the words you’re saying, “You’re the monster. Sexy monster. Sent to our dimension to seduce us.”
Minho mouthes “I told you” to you, which makes you giggle, and Jisung joins in too, even though he doesn’t know what you’re laughing about. It’s all so domestic you almost forget where you are, until suddenly the lights are turning off overhead, the room drowning in darkness.
“Oh what the fuck.” Minho says from in front of you, the shape of him vaguely moving through the darkness.
“The lights automatically go out at ten thirty,” you say sheepishly, “Did I forget to mention that?”
Minho just grumbles, fumbling around for something. He finds it, and soon, his phone flashlight is on, shining on the two of you. You can’t see his face, but you can imagine the deadpan look he’s sending both of you right now.
“Oww, hyung, hurts,” Jisung whines, covering his eyes, “Too bright. Turn it off, please.”
“We have to get moving, Sung,” you say, gently nudging him off of you, “Can’t stay the night here.”
“We can go back to ours,” Minho says, something hopeful hiding in his voice, “Uhm. If you want to, I mean. Stay the night with us.”
“Do you want me to?” You ask, though you’re pretty sure you already know the answer.
“He wouldn’t be offering if he didn’t want you to,” Jisung says from next to you, stretching languidly, “If we didn’t want you to. Pluuuuus, it’s closer than your apartment is!”
This is true. You’ve probably missed the late bus by now, or you will, by the time you’re dressed, and you’re not feeling the long, lonely walk back to your apartment.
“I’d love to stay with you guys.” You say, trying to hide the fondness in your voice and failing miserably.
“Good.” Minho says, and that’s that.
And as you get dressed, the tension that’s been hanging in the air for weeks now is still there, but it’s…different, now. Like something has settled in your chest, a blossoming warmth that feels familiar. Comfortable. Like it was always meant to be there. Like a piece of you that you didn’t know was missing finally slotted into place.
You don’t know what tonight means for the three of you, but you do know one thing: whatever becomes of you, the three of you will face it. Together. Because there’s really no you, no Minho, no Jisung, without the other two to complete you.
I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated ♡
