⭑ bf!mingi x gf!reader x bestie!yunho
⭑ warnings in each part smut minors dni / word count 89.2k
ONE — planning to buy a house, get married and start a family within the next few years, you and mingi are the blueprint for the perfect relationship— until one of yunho’s infamous stories about his intriguing sex life gets stuck in your head for a little too long, and has you curious about spicing up your own sex life. 21.4k
TWO — it finally happened... and then it happened again... and again... until lines are blurred and everything feels a little heavier than it was supposed to. 31.3k
THREE — four days away at the beach, hiding your feelings from all of your friends while you’re all under the same roof, a week after yunho broke up with you and mingi. easy enough, right? 36.5k
Pairing: Brendon Urie x Reader, mentions of Ryan Ross x Reader
Genre: smut, angst
Warnings: cheating, car sex, fingering (f receiving), daddy kink, blowjob, handjob, spanking, protected vaginal sex, based off of “Sex” by The 1975, I wrote this YEARS ago ok bear with me
the fact that something i posted 6 years ago but wrote a full decade ago is so fucking crazy to me. i cringe every time i see the notification (i really couldn’t have come up with a better name? 😭) but im forever grateful that y’all continue to show it so much love 🖤
“Yo, I got the goods.” Wooyoung said, holding up the convenience store grocery bag high in the air.
“They had the chips I wanted?” You asked, reaching out your hand and flexing your fingers impatiently for the bag.
“Yep, and your drink. You owe me $6 by the way.” He said, dumping the remainder of the contents in the bag onto your coffee table.
“I’ll buy you a burger or something next week.”
“Deal.” He said, sitting next to you on the couch and kicking his feet up. You skimmed over the snack stash, trying to find anything in his snack choices you wanted to steal a bite of and your eyes landed on a candy bar you had never seen before. The packaging was different, and the brand name was one you couldn’t recognize.
“What is that?” You asked him, pointing to it.
“It’s chocolate. The cashier guy told me it’s something called an aphrodisiac candy bar? The dude was trying to upsell me really hard. I think he was trying to get rid of his inventory of it. They only have it behind the register so, I bought it.” He shrugged and picked it up, reading the ingredients list printed on the back.
“Aphrodisiac? You mean, it’s supposed to make you horny? Why the fuck would you buy that and bring it over here?” You smacked him on the arm and made him wince.
“Ouch! Damn, chill. That shit is all fake. There’s just good-ole sugar and fat in this. I just felt bad for the dude and bought it. You know I go there every single week before our movie nights. I got a soft spot for the old guy!” Wooyoung did his best to plea his case which you truthfully believed. And, to be fair, he was being honest. “It’s just a regular chocolate bar with some fake gimmick to make you pay like $10 for it.”
“You paid $10 for this thing?!”
“I told you I felt bad for the dude!” He groaned, unwrapping the paper around the candy and breaking the bar in half, handing you one of the two pieces. “Here, just help me eat this thing and turn on the movie.”
“Are you sure?” You said, still a bit wary and he groaned in irritation.
“Eat it or don’t. I’m starting the movie.” Wooyoung told you, taking a large bite out of his side and pressing ‘play.’ You shrugged and did the same, enjoying each bite and focusing on the film.
——————————————
The movie you chose was one you both had watched a million times over. You both made commentary about the movie like you usually did and just enjoyed each other’s company.
Midway through the film the two main characters started having sex in a scene you’d both watched multiple times before. However, something felt different this time. You felt yourself start to tingle a get a tiny bit wet as the scene got more and more heated, the feeling intensifying as the scene continued. It did not take long until you found yourself shifting uncomfortably in your seat, completely soaked and throbbing.
‘Oh my god, the chocolate.’
“I uh, gotta go to the bathroom.” You said, slightly panicked and too afraid to look over at Wooyoung. You stood up and b-lined to the restroom, locking the door behind you.
You pulled down your sweatpants and panties and examined yourself. You gasped softly out loud, taken aback by how puffy and engorged your labia and clit looked. Your pussy soaking wet, leaving a trail of arousal on your panties. Thanks to your thick sweats, that was easy to hide. What wasn’t, was your hard and engorged nipples that were now peeking straight through your pajama camisole.
“Dammit.” You whispered to yourself, using your fingers to try and push the hard nubs down into themselves over the shirt. However, instead, the stimulation only made the situation worse. You felt a bolt of electricity shoot straight to your clit, making it pulse. Your knees buckled and you had to find it deep inside to pull your hands away from your chest and not continue. If you were in here too long, Wooyoung may know something was up.
You quickly pulled your pants back up and straightened yourself, making sure you looked as normal as possible. Quickly splashing some cold water on your face and neck in a weak attempt to bring your temperature down. You took a deep breath before going back out, not realizing Wooyoung was having a crisis of his own.
“God, what the fuck?” He hissed to himself when you had closed the bathroom door behind you. He uncrossed his legs he was squeezing together uncomfortably hard in a desperate attempt to hide his growing, uncontrollable, erection. His sizable length pressed up through his pants as if it was fighting to get out. He adjusted himself a bit, tucking himself into the waistband of his boxers which helped a little bit but didn’t help the throbbing desire that wouldn’t subside.
Wooyoung knew he was in trouble. He really didn’t think that fucking chocolate bar was legit. How could a chocolate bar make you horny? And to this extent? All he had to do was make it through the movie and get home to jerk off and everything would be fine. He repositioned himself on the couch to try and look casual when he heard you come out of the bathroom. He refused to look away from the tv, not wanting to risk giving himself away by looking guilty.
You sat back down next to him and swore you could hear how wet you were when settled into the cushion. Both of you were face forward, eyes to the tv, trying to ignore the throbbing between each of your thighs. Every once in a while you would shift around, making Wooyoung’s eyes shift over in your direction. He noticed you were bouncing your leg anxiously and biting the inside of your cheek.
“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned.
“Huh? Oh! Um, yeah. I’m great.” You answered a bit too chipper, making his eyebrow raise in curiosity. He wanted to pry but wasn’t in a position to entertain any banter at the moment so he let it go. You found his reaction, or lack-there-of, strange. Normally any time Wooyoung spoke to you it was to make fun of you or give you a hard time. You peered over at him and saw his knuckles white with how hard he was clenching his fists, jaw tight. Completely tense.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you asking me that?” He snapped, sounding annoyed.
“Damn, sorry I asked.” You rolled your eyes. “Asshole.”
“You’re talking through the whole movie and I’m the asshole?”
“We’ve seen this movie 100 times what does it fucking matter?” You whipped your head towards him in anger. “And you’re one to talk. You normally never shut the hell up.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe I want to shut the hell up tonight. Is that okay with you?”
“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. Now horny and annoyed. “By the way, you spilled your drink or something on you. You have a stain.”
“What?” Wooyoung looked down and saw a quarter-size spot of wetness on his crotch which made him stand up in a panic, not thinking about what his seated position was helping him conceal. When he stood up it was very clear to you that the wet spot was not one made from a drink and that he was very, VERY, hard. “Shit- um, sorry-“
“Oh.” Was all you could manage to say, realizing he was in the same predicament as you were.
Wooyoung sat back down with his cheeks burning red. He pushed his hair back with one hand and nervously cleared his throat before finally speaking.
“I uh, guess the chocolate kinda works.”
“Yeah, it kinda does.” You admitted shyly. He looked over at you and laughed a little.
“Wait, it worked for you too?”
“Yeah, I’m kinda going insane right now.” You huffed. You both sat in silence for a second not knowing what to say and then, you smacked his arm.
“Ouch! What the fuck?” He yelled, grabbing his arm.
“You’re such an idiot for buying this shit!” You groaned.
“You didn’t have to eat it!”
“Yeah, but I did because YOU told me it wouldn’t work and now here we are.”
“Well..” he sighed. “Do you have anyone you can text to come over? Take care of business?”
“No.” You scoffed. “I don’t have a roster like you.”
“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “Half my roster has me blocked at this point. So it looks like we’re both equally fucked. And not in the way we need.”
“So now what?”
“I guess.. we have to masturbate?” He shrugged.
“I guess so.”
Wooyoung suddenly started pulling his pants off of himself which made you panic, frantically waving your hands in front of him.
“What are you doing?!”
“What the fuck do you think I’m doing? Did we not just say we were going to masturbate?” He sounded as equally shocked.
“I didn’t think you meant TOGETHER?”
“I mean, at this point why not? We both know we’re horny as fuck. Might as well just get this over with real quick. I don’t want to drive all the way home to jerk off. It’s too early.” He argued. “Plus, we’ve been friends for how long? This shouldn’t be a big deal at all. We’ve made out while drunk this is literally, like, the next step.”
You thought for a while about his proposition and it didn’t take too long to come to a consensus that he was correct. Of course, the throbbing in your panties definitely influenced your quick decision. You were too horny and too desperate to get off at this point to care about potential awkwardness. You just really wanted to get off.
“Okay. But we never talk about this again. Got it?” You said, hissing through your teeth to sound serious.
“Yeah, yeah. Got it. Can we jerk off now?” He asked. You nodded and Wooyoung proceeded in taking off his pants and boxers with one swift movement, his large cock springing out of his pants instantly. It was almost purple from how hard it was, head leaking precum down the shaft. Wooyoung winced from the cool air in your apartment hitting his warm sensitive skin. He also lifted his shirt off over his head, tossing it onto the floor.
You had seen your best friend shirtless but, never naked below the belt. Your eyes almost bulging from your head when you took in the sheer size of him.
“Well, are you going to get naked too or are you going to just sit there and stare at my cock like a weirdo?”
“Oh, um-“ you stuttered, shaking your head for a moment then stripped down naked yourself. Your swollen breasts and hard nipples were the first thing Wooyoung noticed, followed by your puffy and engorged pussy.
“Holy shit, I think I just saw your pussy throb.” He gasped, almost drooling. He was completely enticed by how it looked. Soaking wet and delicate.
“Shut up.” You mumbled. “Can we get this over with?”
Wooyoung nodded and took a deep breath, taking his hand and shamelessly wrapping it around his cock. He sucked in a harsh breath when he made contact with his sensitive appendage, then slowly started to move his fist up and down. You watched him as he did this, wondering how he made such an awkward situation so hot.
“Don’t make me do this alone.” Wooyoung said, his voice husky and deep. You swallowed deeply and then hesitantly brought your hands to your chest and started to massage your breasts. You took your soft mounds in your hands and squeezed them gently, feeling how much fuller they felt than normal, then used your fingertips to rub circles around your almost painfully hard nipples. They were so sensitive to the touch that an involuntary whimper slipped through your lips.
“Sorry!” You gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth in shock. You typically thought playing with your nipples felt good but never that good. Not good enough to make you moan.
“God, don’t apologize.” Wooyoung groaned, his hand slightly moving faster. “It’s.. it’s hot.”
You felt your cheeks get warm at your best friend’s confession. Before you lost your nerve, you continued, bringing your fingers back to your nipples and pulling at them lightly. The sensation making you rotate your hips as you yearned for more relief down below. While keeping one hand focusing on your nipples, you brought the other down between your thighs. Your fingers were coated instantly with a shocking amount of wetness that made it effortlessly easy to rub circles around your swollen clit.
“Fuck..” you whimpered, hips bucking up into your hands, pressing into it hard. You peered over at Wooyoung and found him watching you play with your pussy, eyes following every circle your fingers rubbed into yourself. His hand now jerking himself off furiously, precum dripping down his swollen cock head and his breath coming out in jagged, broken, huffs. You already felt close to release due to the pure erotic nature of the situation. Your hand naturally going faster as you chased your high, your thighs opening up as wide as they could go.
“Holy shit.” Wooyoung groaned, eyes rolling back into his head when he saw you spread out even more. You brought your other hand down from your breast and placed it down between your thighs, pointing two fingers down towards your entrance and teasing it with your fingerings. Your fingers rubbing your clit didn’t stop and only got faster as you raced to your orgasm.
“Oh my god-“ you gasped, your breath catching in your throat. You pushed your fingers into your cunt, only managing to get just the tips into yourself before you started to cum. You pushed your fingers into yourself regardless as your pussy convulsed around them. Your back arched off the couch and head was thrown back in ecstasy while Wooyoung watched in awe. The sight before him making his climax flow over his knuckles as his body jerked in the same release.
You looked over at just the right time to see him release his orgasm. His eyes were glossy and low as he watched you, lip between his teeth that did nothing to keep his grunts inside, and his chest was glossy with sweat that glistened in the dim light. He was fucking beautiful. The veins in his arms bulging as he worked his still-erect cock.
“Fuck, I’m still fucking horny.” Wooyoung groaned. He finally let go of his dick, using his discarded shirt to wipe away his mess. His cock was still rock hard and, to be honest with yourself, you were still throbbing. This chocolate was ruthless.
“Me too.”
Wooyoung bit the inside of his cheek and watched you nervously for a moment, a bit nervous. He looked lost in thought but also like he had something on his mind he was hesitating to share.
“What?” You asked, nervous now.
“What if, just this one time, we.. you know..”
Your heart started to race but you weren’t sure if it was in excitement or anxiety.
“Wooyoung, are you being serious?”
“It’s just this one time. It’s only because of this fucking candy bar. And we never have to talk about it ever again.” He said, his tone almost pleading. “And I just really, REALLY, want to eat your pussy right now.”
“Wooyoung!” You giggled, covering your mouth in shock at your best friend’s lust. You should slap him. Normally you would. But, you had to be honest with yourself. You definitely wanted to fuck him in this moment, too.
“Please. Let’s fuck. PLEAAASE.”
“Just this once.” You told him, grabbing his face in your hands to focus him. “And we never tell anybody about this.”
“Deal.”
Wooyoung kissed you deeply before laying you down on your couch, trailing his lips down to your neck. He would switch from kisses to light nips of his teeth on the soft spots of your throat that raised goosebumps on your skin and went lower and lower, stopping briefly to suck on your still-swollen nipples. His tongue twirled around them like a tease, eliciting soft gasps from your lips. He chucked in satisfaction from your reaction then continued his decent down to where both of you wanted him to be the most.
Wooyoung hoisted your knees to rest on his shoulders and hooked his arms around your thighs, holding you secure to him. Wanting to make sure you couldn’t pull away. He looked up at you, and watched your reaction as he finally lowered his mouth and licked a long lap of his tongue through your engorged folds. When he saw your eyes flutter and roll back into your head, he smirked, before completely diving in and devouring you.
Wooyoung was an expert at eating pussy. You had known he was experienced in bed, having heard of his extensive body count, but never had experienced his skills first hand. You suddenly realized why so many girls had gone crazy after he had moved onto the next.
“Fuck Wooyoung.. what the fuck?” You moaned, looking down at him in complete shock. You found him still watching you. His lips wrapped around your swollen clit, sucking on it lightly in-between taking long licks. You reached down and wrapped your hand in his hair, pushing him even deeper into you which made him moan as he lapped at your clit. You grinded your hips against his face, riding it, feeling his tongue, nose, and chin pushed up against you. You both locked eyes as you continued to grind on his face, Wooyoung moaning into you in pleasure as he allowed you to use him how you needed. You felt that familiar pressure build between your thighs once again and you knew it was only a matter of time before you came again.
“Fuck, Woo. I’m- I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered, your hips moving a bit quicker. Wooyoung’s fingers dug into the soft skin of your thighs as he let you use his mouth, your soaked cunt sliding against his tongue in desperation.
He knew it was time to go in for the kill.
He wrapped his lips around your clit one last time and started to suck on it, his tongue lapping at it simultaneously. Both of the stimulations sending you over the edge, screaming as you came. Your knees locking around Wooyoung’s head in a vice grip while you writhed on the couch.
“Oh my god, stop!” You pushed his head away from you, gasping for air. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Maybe.” He was gasping as well, mouth and chin glistening in your orgasm. “You just tasted so fucking good.”
“Oh my god, shut up.” You felt yourself get shy, but you couldn’t help but smile.
“You fucking loved that. Don’t pretend like you didn’t.” He said, reaching down to help you sit upright.
“Yeah, whatever. You’re pretty good at that.”
“Thanks. Now, do me a favor and ride me.” Wooyoung requested and, after the service he just provided, you were more than willing to oblige. You straddled him, reaching behind you to grab his thick length to line him up to your entrance. You had to ease him in slowly, his girth stretching you as you lowered yourself down onto him. Once he was fully inside of you, you rested your face into the crook of his neck for a while, allowing yourself to adjust to his size.
“Are you alright?” He asked you, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist.
“Yes.” You were a bit breathless. “You’re just.. fuck, Wooyoung. You’re big.” Wooyoung chuckled, his laugh jolting his body inside of you in a way that made your toes curl slightly.
“I’ll take good care of you, don’t worry.” He whispered in your ear, making goosebumps raise on your arms. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby.”
‘Baby.’ He hadn’t dared called you that yet. You two were already pushing boundaries as it was having sex as friends but it was clear he was ready to throw all that out the window to ensure you both enjoyed this experience with no restraints. You could do mental somersaults trying to unpack the conflicting feelings you had about all of this but right now, all you wanted to do was focus on how GOOD he felt. And how much you wanted him. You would do all the hard stuff later.
Rolling your hips up and back down onto him, you started to slide yourself up and down his cock. Wooyoung helped you by gripping your ass and pulling you towards him each time you rocked forward and pushing you back down onto him when you rolled back down, making you feel his cock deep inside of you. The way he filled you up made your entire body feel warm, your cheeks burning in pleasure that made your lips tingle.
“Does my cock feel good inside of you?” Wooyoung asked you seductively, his lips pressing a kiss onto your neck while you rode him. You felt shy and didn’t answer, but down below you tightened around him which he noticed.
“I asked you a question, baby.”
“Wooyoung, please-“
“Don’t overthink this.” He told you, kissing down your neck to your shoulder. “Remember, this is to make each other feel good and get each other off. So, don’t feel weird about saying naughty things to me, alright? I like it.”
You nodded and he gripped your ass a bit harder, using one of his hands to smack it sharply on one of your cheeks. You moaned in pleasure, loving the roughness, and started riding him a bit faster.
“Let me ask you again. Does my cock feel good inside of you?”
“Yes, baby.” You said, your voice a whimpering mess. “So fucking good.”
“That’s right. Of course you fucking like it.” He smacked his hand on your ass once again. “Such a good girl.”
You bounced on his cock in desperation, over and over. Each time you landed back down on his thick length a pathetic whimper slipped through your pouted lips that became music to Wooyoung’s ears. He continued to coo filthy words to you, loving how each syllable made you tighten around him even more than you already were.
“Do you like it when I talk dirty to you?” He grunted in your ear, hips bucking up inside of you from below. “Like when I tell you you’re being a good girl for me?”
“Fuck!” You cried out, desperately rolling your hips in a messy and out-of-rhythm pattern as you got closer and closer to an orgasm. “Yes! Fuck, I love it!”
“Yeah? You’re gonna cum all over my cock for me?” He whined into your ear, grabbing your ass and thrusting his hips up into you hard over and over.
“Fuck!” You screamed, throwing your head back as you took him under you. After a few more strokes up inside, you started to cream around his thick cock, your body convulsing almost violently as you came. He wrapped his arms around you in a vice grip and held you against his chest as you orgasmed, feeling your pussy throb around his still-hard cock.
“Good job, baby girl. That’s it. Fuuuuck.” He praised you, loving how your pussy felt when it came around him. When you finally caught your breath, you sat up in his lap.
“I hope you have more in you.” Wooyoung told you, kissing you on your shoulder delicately.
“Fuck yeah I do.” You said, grabbing his hair roughly and pulling him to your mouth in a feverish kiss. He matched your passion quickly, biting your lip and pulling on it between his teeth. You moaned loudly into his mouth before he pushed his tongue into yours. You held each other so close as you made out it was if you would morph into one person. Bodies meshing together into one. Finally, he needed more.
“Get on your knees for me, ass in the air.” He whispered to you seductively, his making chills run down your spine.
You got on your knees and kneeled forward, your face pressed into the couch in the doggy position. Wooyoung positioned himself behind you, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, rubbing it up and down your folds to collect your arousal on his throbbing head. He pushed into your dripping cunt with ease, your pussy begging to be filled by his cock once again, eagerly forming to his size this time. He slid in all the way, his pelvis meeting your ass as he nestled down inside of you.
“Fuck, Wooyoung… your cock…” you trailed off.
“I know.” He said, and you didn’t have to look back at him to know he had a cocky grin plastered on his face.
He gripped your hips, his fingers pressed into the soft skin of your thighs firmly, and held you in place. Suddenly, he pulled back and snapped himself forward, slamming his cock into your pussy, and repeating the motion over and over. Your mouth fell open and you moaned deeply into the couch, taken aback by the pleasure of the rough thrusts. His motions started out slow but quickly picked up in pace, the sounds of his thrusts becoming quick slapping motions that filled the room, pairing with your moans nicely.
To make it even more intense, Wooyoung reached down and grabbed your arms, pinning them behind your back and using them to help him thrust into you. The new position made you completely vulnerable to him and left you in his control, submitted.
“You’re taking me so well.” He grunted as he continued to fuck roughly into your throbbing cunt. “Your pussy feels so fucking good.”
“Please fuck me harder!” You begged him, wanting even more. “I want more. Give me more daddy.” The filthy pet-name slipping out without a second thought.
“Daddy, huh?” Wooyoung smirked in surprise, not realizing how dirty his best friend could get. “You want daddy to give it to you harder?”
He leaned down over you and pinned your stomach down against the cushions, using his hand to grip the back of your neck and push you down into the plush couch. You couldn’t move, Wooyoung’s body weight holding you down as he thrusted into you ruthlessly. Your pussy contracting around his thick cock as it effortlessly slid in and out, your arousal making a mess on the cotton of the cushions.
“Is this what you wanted? Hmm?” He said in-between thrusts. “To be fucked into the couch?”
“Fuck-yes! Yes, daddy!” You cried in pure satisfaction.
“You’re going to cum on daddy’s cock again?”
“Yes! Please, please, please-“
Wooyoung suddenly stopped and pulled out of you, his weight releasing your body. You turned confused, afraid you had done something to offend him. Wooyoung however was not offended. Instead, determined to change things up. He grabbed your legs and flipped you onto your back, gripping onto your knees and pressing them back onto your chest.
“I want to look at you while you cum.” He told you, slipping his cock back inside. He placed his forehead against yours and looked at you deep in your eyes while he dragged deep stroked in and out of you. His long cock pulled pornographic whimpers from your throat that shocked even yourself, not knowing you could make such erotic noises. You couldn’t help it. You didn’t know at this point if it was the chocolate or just simply Wooyoung but you had never been fucked like this before. Never felt this amazing before.
“Woo, it feels so good..” you said, sounding almost as if you could cry. Your thighs you had wrapped around his waist started to tremble and Wooyoung was closing in on his climax as well.
“You feel fucking amazing.” He told you, slamming into you a bit harder but keeping his strokes precise. “I want you to cum with me. I’m almost there, baby.”
He placed his thumb on your swollen clit and started to rub quick circles that made your eyes flutter and lets clamp around him. It was only a matter of time now. He could feel you pulse around his cock as your walls tightened around him.
“Fuck baby, I can feel how close you are. Are you gonna cum?” He whimpered to you, his cocky demeanor now softening as he got closer to his own release. “Come on baby, cum with me. Give it to me. I need to feel it. Please.”
His whining and his thumb on your clit sent you into your final climax, your orgasm gushing out of you and onto his cock. Wooyoung came as you convulsed around his thick length, squirting around him in spectacular fashion.
“Holy shit- fuck!” He cursed loudly, slamming into you a few times as he emptied into you. Your body shuttering as your orgasm subsided, completely spent. Wooyoung pulled out of you gently and went to find a towel to clean both of you up. You laid there for a moment out of breath, coming to terms with what you two had just done together.
“I didn’t know you could squirt.” Wooyoung said in shock.
“Sometimes.” You shrugged. “It doesn’t happen that much.”
“Of course I could get you to do it.” He smirked, proud of himself. You rolled your eyes and snatched the towel from out of his hand to wipe yourself of sweat and other liquids.
“Did you at least enjoy it?” Wooyoung asked you, suddenly sounding serious.
“What?”
“I mean, do you regret it?” He shrugged. “Are you okay with what happened?”
“Oh.” You felt shocked and thought about it for a moment. “Actually.. I think it was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
“Really?!” He said, a huge smile spreading across his face.
“Do NOT let that go to your head. But, yes.” You sighed. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Fuck yeah. I didn’t know you could fuck like that.”
You smacked him on the arm which made him laugh.
Both of you cleaned up and got dressed. You decided to take a trip across the street to the convenience store where Wooyoung had gone before he had come over for more snacks.
The moment you both got up to the counter, the old man at the register smiled at you with a knowing look. You felt your cheeks get hot, remembering he was the one who sold Wooyoung the chocolate bar.
“Anything else for you two?”
Wooyoung looked over at you and you looked at him. There was a long pause and, without even speaking, a silent decision was made.
“Can we get two more of those special chocolate bars, please?”
——————————————
Can you tell writing bestie Wooyoung is my favorite? I hope yall enjoyed!
i can feel it, my eggs just dropped, imagine an aphrodisiac strain…
plug!wooyoung x f!reader
thinking about wooyoung...
you always said no when he asked you to smoke with him. what you two had was strictly transactional and nothing more. smoking with your source would only blur lines and make a perfect, “professional” relationship become complicated.
it didn’t mean he stopped asking. his strains always made you muddy-brained, incapable of rational thinking. you preferred to smoke alone, in the secluded quiet of your bedroom, where you could melt into your sheets without a care in the world.
another thing you wouldn’t tell him, his weed makes you extremely horny. and you have no idea why. god forbid you smoke with him and then try to jump his bones before the blunt touches your lips.
he’s too pretty for his own good, and he knows it. he loves to tease you, giving you watery looks that made your bones go a little weak.
when he’d hand you things and his fingertips would brush your knuckles, entirely too intimately.
he was the best plug you’d ever had, and you didn’t want to fuck it up over some hormones. always on time, well, mostly. insanely good product, that satisfying feeling of consistency he always provided you with.
one wrong move and something could change, then you won’t be able to cling to that familiarity you found yourself tethered to, which wasn’t a good thing either way.
and after months of his trademark wooyoung nagging, you finally agreed. you had a shitty week, and you honestly did not want to smoke alone. the smile on his face when you finally agreed to share a sesh with him should have raised alarms. he was too happy about it. he sat on your bed with you, a blunt pinched between his fingertips, unable to hide the pure, unadulterated joy in his face.
“i knew you loved me.” he said cheerily, whilst passing the blunt to you. you crossed your legs and took a hit, rolling your eyes.
“i can just tell i’m going to regret this.” you groan around an exhale, and wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows as he takes it back from you.
“not if you don’t want to.”
funny thing is, wooyoung wasn’t being entirely truthful with you. i mean, you didn’t expect him to be open and honest with you on everything. he was a distributor after all. but he failed to disclose a couple of things to you, things that might be important to know.
you would find these facts out eventually, but only while he’s fucking you so slowly it was like with every stroke he was gradually becoming one with your body.
he had your legs pressed up to your chest, his hands pressing down on the backs of your thighs to keep you folded beneath his body. his smile made your gut twist, a very heavy fog settled over your brain, a muted heat that made every movement you made feel like it was weighted. every moan he forces out of you feels like it’s soaked in thick honey.
he looked borderline wicked, his own eyelids low and sultry, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, his glinting canines on display as he slowly drags his cock in and out of you.
you shivered every time he kissed that spot so deep, every sensation was heightened to a point of near concern of sensory overload. wooyoung’s moans sounded like heaven's trumpets, the slick sound of his cock sliding against your gummy walls so sticky and gross. "fucking finally..." he snarls under his breath, and you feel your stomach flutter.
the feeling of his hot palms against your thighs and his sharp nose brushing against yours each time his hips pulled back and forth. his breaths fan over your parted lips in heavy pants, his eyebrows knitted together. he looked like he could barely keep his eyes open, but he didn’t want to miss a second of your pretty little blissed-out face.
you knew this was gonna be a bad idea.
“fuck… is she always this wet?” he shudders out, moving his eyes down and catching the glinting sheen of wetness you’ve left on his cock when he slides out of your cunt again, just enough to where his tip nearly pops out of you.
when he thrusts back inside, it’s deep and insatiable, and your back arches lazily and your lungs shake.
you’re both a cloudy, hazy, turned-on wreck. you’ve made such a mess on his dick, making it so easy to glide in and out of your pussy with concerning ease. your hands fist the sheets on either side of your head, and you felt as if you let go, you just might hover off the bed with how good you were feeling.
“it’s good, i know baby,” he mutters against your mouth, opening his lips with a low inhale and kissing you into a soaked mess, his tongue filling your mouth and muffling your quiet moans.
“can i tell you a secret?” he whispers around your tongue, and you moan lowly in response. to help distract you, he pulls his hips back, and this time he rolls them, nice and deep, so his fat tip presses against that spot harsh and heavy, he can feel your legs shake under his hold.
he pulls away from your lips and slots his face into the crook of your neck, littering it in saliva-dripped kisses. while his cock turns your cunt inside out, he mutters out a confession laced with shaky moans and hazy breaths.
“i found out a way to grow my bud incorporated with a natural aphrodisiac. cool shit huh?” as he says it, he thrusts into you especially hard, a surprised, choked moan falls from your lips.
“w-wooyoung-!” you cry out, but he only shushes you.
“a little tweaking here and there, and now smoking it makes you feel a little horny. is it working? are you horny baby? is that why you never want to smoke with me?” he teases you while never stopping the grueling movement of his hips, and you find your words lost in your throat.
“probably why you’re-“ he leans back again and looks down at where he was sheathed inside of you, the strings of slick that clinged to his v-line sending a shiver down his spine as he punctuates each word with a roll of his hips. “so… fucking… wet.”
“woo-“ you moan pathetically, and he brings his eyes up to look at you, a high, sad mess underneath him. his palms kneading the soft flesh of your under thighs, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, and moaning low in his chest. “‘s not… okay.”
your words are empty, your pussy telling him all he needs to hear. wooyoung smiles and shakes his head.
“shh. no talking.” he patronizes. “your job is to lie there, be dumb, and fucking take it.” he groans when he feels you clench around him, your head lolls back against the mattress when you feel the thick veins of his dick drag inside of you. every sensation has your body feeling like it’s buzzing, and the longer he fucks you, the more you begin to lose all remaining coherency.
“yeah, just like that,” wooyoung bites out with a purr, lost in the warmth of your body. “shut that brain off for me, pretty.”
you’re barely on earth enough to notice as one of his hands moves away from your thigh and grabs the disintegrating roach that sits in the ashtray on your bedside table.
he lifts it to his lips, slowing his hips to deep, slick strokes as he inhales one last time, dropping it back into the ashtray. without a word, he leans back down and presses his lips to yours in an open-mouthed kiss.
you moan as he speeds up his hips, fucking you full of him so much so you feel like your body is not your own.
“breathe in, baby.” he mutters into your mouth, and you do. you inhale in the wisps that drift from his mouth, and your brain fogs over again as the secondhand smoke fills your lungs.
you’re cumming so hard you actually black out for a moment, and wooyoung watches every second of it like it was the most addicting things he’s every seen.
he doesn’t stop moving his hips, riding you out on his cock while you seem to have a never-ending high. your entire body shakes and the remaining tendrils of smoke float over your lips while wooyoung moans greedily.
“no wonder you didn’t want to smoke with me. just look at you baby, i think i’ve ruined you.” he pouts, and then his moans trail off into a broken whine when you clench and gush around him uncontrollably.
“we should make this a habit… fuckkkk me.” he trails off as he loses himself to your cunt once again, sliding his hands up the backs of your legs and pressing down on the backs of your knees.
“look so pretty folded under me. dumb girl. couldn’t connect the dots herself, needed someone to tell her she wasn’t smoking normal shit.” he grins and leans down, dragging his tongue up the slope of your jaw, kissing below your ear.
“my favorite customer.” he coos by your ear, sinking his teeth into your lobe. “don’t be mad at me, please?” he whines, and then growls low by your ear when you tighten around him once more.
“if you’re not mad at me then cum on my cock again, pretty girl. let me feel that pussy forgive me.”
you don’t even mean to, and you are in fact upset that he never told you his weed has aphrodisiac effects, but your body has a mind of its own. overstimulated and fuzzy, your entire body feels like it’s being shocked as you fall apart around him, your limbs twitching as the slick sound of his dick working you out grows louder as you squirt all over his lower stomach.
“holy shit- holy shit- holy- fuck…” he moans, slowing his thrusts to languid, absorbed strokes that help drag the cum out of your body until you’re squeezed dry.
“woo…” you whine pathetically, your whines breaking in your throat, tiredness seeping into your bones as you start to lose consciousness beneath his warm body.
“i’m right here, baby, just a l-little longer, okay? okay? let me fuck you a little longer…” he trails off again and resumes being laser focused on feeling your warmth swallow his cock whole.
he makes no indication that he plans to stop anytime soon, and all you can do is lie beneath him, a fucked out, helpless, high mess while he rides the waves of his own high with your sweet body. it took him so long to finally reach this milestone, hes going to savor it.
well things have changed, alright, and you had a feeling that a new addiction had bubbled to the surface, one that, unfortunately, both of you would not be able to quit cold turkey anytime soon.
one date with someone else is all it took to realize you're in love with your roommates, wooyoung and san. but do they want you as much as they want each other? ⋆.˚
━ woosan x fem!reader, roommates/best friends to lovers, smut minors dni, 18+, consumption, mxm, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, threesome, don't wanna spoil anything so read at ur own risk!
━ wc 28.6k
━ happy almost cb day! this fic is my second & final installment of @everyonewooeverywhere ‘s fic exchange event, and a gift for my bestest friend in the world, love of my life @chimivx ᢉ𐭩 this is the best lie ive ever told, the best secret i've ever kept, i even stole your layout for it! you deserve the world my plum, and i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it ⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚
“I think that dress is saying, ‘Take me back to your place,’ but the other one leaves more room for mystery, like maybe, ‘I could come home with you, but I might just be here for free dinner.’”
With your hands on your hips, you stared at your roommate, San, unimpressed. Curled up on your bed, he laid on his side, one palm holding up his head, the other on your puppy’s belly, rubbing it while your black lab laid there with his paws up, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
“Which one are you going for?” He asks after receiving nothing but silence in return, one knee bent up, the other extended straight along the length of your mattress, his foot near your pillows.
A date with a shared friend of your two roommates, one you originally didn’t want to go on, but were now somewhat excited for. You haven’t been on a date in a while, which you didn’t think much of, but it seemed everyone and their mother was more than concerned for your love life than you were. You were content with San and Wooyoung, your two roommates, and your one year old black lab named Sweetie who was almost as big as you.
After fighting both San and Wooyoung’s attempts at convincing you to go out with Yunho for a week, you finally agreed, days into the follicular phase of your cycle, mere moments out of the month when you craved the touch of a man. Now, mid-ovulation, you weren’t completely sure where you wanted to end up tonight.
You knew Yunho well. Being a friend of both San and Wooyoung, he was over your apartment all the time, with his shaggy brown hair, cozy clothes that made him look like a librarian, legs that stretched on forever. Sometimes you caught yourself staring at his veiny hands for a second longer than what was considered appropriate, but you never thought of Yunho as an actual option.
When you came home after a long day of teaching, blabbing to San and Wooyoung how the other teachers at the studio teased you for being single yet again, telling you that you should at least go on dates, the pair took it upon themselves to find you a suitor. Silently, without your knowledge, they hooked you up with Yunho, one of the only other single people in their friend group. Your friend group.
“I guess the second one?” You tilted your head to the side in thought, turning to stare at yourself in the mirror again, a black dress that hugged your curves dangerously. “Maybe this is more club than it is dinner and drinks.”
“Try on the other one again,” San tilted his chin toward the brown dress you tossed on the chair in the corner of your room, the one usually tucked under your desk that held your two-monitor PC setup. Used mainly for The Sims 4. No one had to know that part, though, your set-up was sick.
You whined, head falling backward, effectively giving up. Sweetie’s head picked up, and San’s amused smile grew as you trudged across your bedroom, crawling on your bed, sprawling yourself across your best friend who rolled on his back, opening his arms to welcome you in.
San chuckled, your head tucked below his chin, vibrations bleeding through your skin. His body was so hard beneath you, so warm and inviting, you could happily stay here, buried into him forever. He turned his head, making room to press a kiss to the top of your head, “You’ll have fun, Yunho’s a great guy. He’ll treat you well.”
“What if I just want to cuddle and watch movies all night? Is it so bad to cancel now?” You mumbled, voice muffled by the cotton white tee he wore, one from the pack you bought him a month ago. His home uniform, a white tee that clung to his body like latex, and gray sweats that hung so low on his hips you wondered how they didn’t fall off sometimes.
“Come on,” San ushered you upward, his chest pushing on your cheek until you pulled your arms under your body to lift yourself off of him. You pouted, he smiled, dimples joining the party on your bedspread. “If you don’t like him, you leave, no harm, no foul.”
“He’s your friend,” you whined again, bottom lip jutting out in the most exaggerated way. “Why did I agree to a set up with one of your friends?”
Just as San was about to protest that Yunho is one of your friends too, you heard the front door snap open, sneakers hitting the wall as he kicked them off his feet, you always heard him before you saw him. Yours and San’s heads turned to your opened bedroom door as Wooyoung yelled from the living room, “It’s date night!”
You sighed, sitting backward, legs tucked under you. Sweetie got up from where he snuggled against San and joined your pity party by laying across your lap, head nuzzling into your tummy. Like a reflex, you scratched your fingers along his back, on the top of his head, he pushed air through his nose in delight.
Wooyoung ran into your bedroom, halting dramatically in your doorway, both hands propped up on the frame on either side of his head. His eyes danced between you, San and your dog, but they landed on San. “Why isn’t she ready?” Eyes sliding to you, “Why aren’t you ready?”
“I don’t wanna go,” your head tipped back again, whining, “Sweetie doesn’t want me to go either, look at him, he’s so cozy. He wants me to stay home and cuddle with him.”
Wooyoung’s lips flattened in a line, “You can’t cancel on him, Shy. He’ll be here in thirty minutes to pick you up, it’s rude if you cancel now. Get up, girl.”
Your top lip curled in distaste, you hated when he said your name like that, even if it was the nickname they both had for you. Really, it was San’s nickname, which was originally your mother’s, he picked it up when he was three, when your entire family called you their shy girl. The nickname had always stuck with him, even after moving away from your hometown and into the city that your family thankfully wouldn’t step foot in, even after almost a decade. When you met Wooyoung your junior year of college, he thought the nickname was so damn cute he started calling you Shy, too.
Wooyoung moved to the center of your room, movements fluid, eyes dancing about the space like he was your fairy godmother. Picking up the brown dress thrown over your chair, he cheered, “Aha! I love this one on you.”
Sighing, you tapped on Sweetie’s head, a warning to him before you stood up. He crawled off your lap and back into San’s chest, settling in his side just like he had before you interrupted. You stood up off the bed, pulling your dress down your thighs, and Wooyoung grinned, eyes flaring, “That dress is an option? What, are you planning on fucking him?”
Eyes narrowing, you scowled at him, crossing the room to snatch the brown dress from his hands. In all black, jeans, tee and jacket, he wore his hat backwards on his head, hiding his short, cropped black hair. Rings adorned his fingers, silver necklaces on his neck, he and San so opposite it still made you laugh at how close the three of you are.
You supposed you were the glue. To Wooyoung’s hotheaded, outspoken, free-bird self, San was more emotional, logical, he actually thought before he spoke, when his feelings didn’t cloud his mind. You were the perfect combination, spontaneous yet level-headed, in tune with your emotions, in tune with theirs, you were the ground they stood on, the final word in their decisions. Why did you need to go on this date when all you needed was in this room with you?
“No,” you bite, throwing the dress on the bed while you pull the one you already wore up and off your body.
Woo laughed, sitting down on the chair he stole the dress from, “No? Your panties match your bra.”
“I just wanted to be prepared,” you throw the dress at him as soon as it's off your body and he catches it with one hand, eyes obviously drinking in your figure. Too close for comfort, that’s what the three of you were, roommates and best friends and an enigma no one around you can understand.
When you turn to San, his eyes are on Sweetie before him, his fingers lightly scratching his head. Always polite, always considerate, you grabbed the brown dress you threw on the bed, forcing yourself to not recall the days where he wasn’t so respectful.
“Did you shave? Be honest,” Wooyoung’s eyebrows raise as you step into the low cut, bodycon brown dress. You snort, walking towards him so he can zip it up your back.
“I trimmed,” you answer simply, amusement dancing in your tone, pulling your hair to one side to give him access to the zipper. He straightens in the chair, one hand on your hip as the other tugs the chilly zipper up your back, he stands back up to reach the top. You turn to him, hair still grasped in your fist, brows raised as the thought crosses your mind, “Should I have shaved?”
“Hell no,” San responds from the bed, eyes trained on you and Wooyoung standing feet away from him. “Yunho’s a man, like, a man. He doesn’t give a fuck if you have a bush or whatever.”
“You should have left the bush,” Wooyoung’s smile is swimming in his eyes too, half-joking, half-serious, “it’s like unwrapping a present on Christmas morning.”
You peel away from him with a laugh as you stand before your full-length mirror, hands gliding down your body as you twist from side to side, head tilted to look at yourself from every angle. You look good, the color compliments your features, accentuates your curves just enough, you didn’t know if the heavy feeling in your gut was anxiety or if you didn’t feel confident or what. It’s been a long while since you’ve been on a date. You sigh, “I just feel like it’s too much.”
Wooyoung comes up behind you, one of his veiny hands on your waist, his cologne in your nose. Woody, notes of creamy sandalwood, spicy, you ease into his touch as he swings a pair of pumps around your front for you to look at through the mirror. You missed when he grabbed them from your closet. “You’ll feel better with these on,” his voice is low in your ear, velvety even if it wasn't intentional, “Your legs will look longer. He’ll wanna eat you from across the table instead of his food.”
You nod, swallowing, ridding your thoughts of all things incriminating about your roommate and best friend. He moves to crouch down on one knee in front of you, your heels on the floor beside him. San, on his stomach now, is beaming while he watches Wooyoung give you princess treatment as if your heart wasn’t reaching tachycardic level, “It’s like you’re Cinderella. Shinderella.”
Your brows scrunch as a punched laugh rushes from your chest, one palm holding the hat on Wooyoung’s head for leverage as you slip your foot into the deep maroon heel he’s holding out for you. “That was an awful joke, Sannie.”
“I liked it,” Wooyoung smiles up at you, sincerity in his eyes, all warmth and love as he grabs the other shoe, “You deserve to be treated like a princess, so if he doesn’t hold the door open for you, pull the chair out for you, if he doesn’t pay the bill, you come home straight to us.”
He stands up on two feet to lean forward, pressing a kiss to your freshly done hair, hands squeezing your shoulders, “Why does this lowkey feel like a big deal?” He turns around to look at San while your face flushes aggressively, “I feel like we’re giving her away.”
San snorts a laugh, tucking a muscled arm under his head to lay his cheek on, “She knows she’s ours at the end of the day.”
You roll your eyes, hands on your hips again as you turn to San, disagreement in your body language but in your heart you know it’s fucking true. Ever since you were little, you’ve looked up to San in a way, always taller than you, stronger than you, older than you. Even if it’s only by a year, you’ve always seen him as someone wiser, someone you could count on no matter what, if you needed him, he’d be there. Because of that you’ve always stuck by his side, never treading farther than arm’s reach, because as much as you were San’s, he was also yours.
And he knew it in his bones, too.
“It’s one date,” your voice is full of reassurance as you walk to your closet, pulling out your collection of bags, totes, purses, already having one in mind. Finally finding the tiny black Coach purse as you realize what you’d just said, you whip around to look at his dimpled-cheeks deep in the pocket of his elbow, purse tucked under your arm, “Why was I just about to convince you why I should go? This is getting very backwards.”
“Because you love us so much, you don’t want us to sit here all night, all sad because some six foot sexy man is taking you away from us,” Wooyoung’s voice is full of humor as he sits back on your bed, one leg tucked under him, one hand rubbing San’s exposed ankle. He sits up a little straighter, “You should still go, though. We won’t be that sad.”
With your features blown into offense, you scoff, “I’d expect you two to be crying, nervous wrecks while I’m gone. You’re telling me you’ll be fine and dandy while I’m off getting pounded by that same six foot sexy man?”
“Pounded?” Wooyoung and San answer at the same time, their eyes wide, eyebrows in their hairlines. San even picked his head up from the pocket of his elbow.
You laugh loudly as you put your everyday purse on Wooyoung’s lap, transferring all your necessities into the tiny handbag. San sits up, crawling behind Wooyoung with his legs straddling the younger man’s back, “You’re really gonna fuck him?!”
“Do we need to have the talk?” Wooyoung blinks at you, face completely shocked, leaning back into San’s arms that wrapped around his front, “When was the last time you even had sex?”
“I’m twenty-eight years old, first of all.” You hold up two hands in front of you, palms flat, facing both men. “Second of all, I don’t know! Who knows? If the date goes super awesome-ly then I might end up in his bed, yeah.” You point a finger at Wooyoung, eyes narrowing, “Third of all, screw you. Two years, shut up.”
Wooyoung raises his arms in defense, lips tucked between his teeth to stop himself from giggling. San still looks surprised, cheeks pink, jaw slack and eyes wide, “I– I don’t know why I’m so shocked that you admitted that so easily.”
“You’re acting like I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” you close the clasp on your purse, “I may have not fucked in two years but I’ve fucked plenty.” Looking at Wooyoung again, you ask, “Can I wear your Chrome Hearts jacket? The leather one?”
Wooyoung nods with his face scrunched like it was no biggie before asking, “So are we expecting you home tonight or what?”
“Why are you being so adamant about this?” Your eyes bounce between them, lingering on San’s cheeks that deepen by the minute, “I don’t know yet, jeez. What time is it?”
San scrambles for his phone, “He’ll be here in ten.”
As if Yunho himself was in your bedroom with the three of you, the doorbell rang. Your eyes widen, “Shit, he’s early.”
“We’ll distract him,” Wooyoung grabs your waist to move you to the side as he stands, rushing out of your room to greet Yunho at the door. Sweetie jumps off the bed next, following him, probably thinking something exciting was happening, and San mimics the two as the third musketeer.
Your finishing touches, extra deodorant, more perfume for good luck, a little lip gloss, a few fluffs to your hair. You caught yourself in the mirror again before leaving, doing another three-sixty, viewing yourself from every angle possible without twisting into a pretzel. Scrunching your lips, you stare at your own face, something still didn’t feel right. You hated when your gut was telling you something, but didn’t say what it was.
The three are in the kitchen, four if you count Sweetie, mid-conversation as your heels announce your presence before you breathe a word. Meeting San’s eye and then Wooyoung’s, both stared at you in awe, affection sparkling in their dark eyes, like they’d never seen you so dressed up before. Sweetie is at Yunho’s feet, the six foot man crouched into a hunched-over ball, hands scratching the dog’s ears until he sees you.
“Wow,” he stands, black slacks on his long legs, a cream-colored button up on his upper half, brown jacket thrown over his arm. Black hair styled and off his forehead, he looked clean, crisp, handsome. “You look beautiful.”
Your face heats up, beaming as you say, “Thanks, you look handsome, too.”
Wooyoung giggles like a child, you snap your head to sneer at him, catching San who’s still staring at you fondly. They’re like your parents, chaperoning your first date like you’re a teenager.
Wooyoung skirts around the kitchen island, “Your jacket, milady.”
Rolling your eyes, you smile apologetically at Yunho who looks amused as Wooyoung drapes the leather jacket over your shoulders. Yunho’s eye drops to the emblems on the sleeves as you slip your arms inside, the obvious Chrome Hearts crosses, the jacket Wooyoung paid an arm and a leg for. His eyes flicker before rising back to your gaze, face unreadable for a moment before he slaps the bright smile back on his cheeks.
“Ready?” He asks after you pull your hair out from beneath the collar.
Nodding, you murmur, “Yeah, ‘m ready.”
San and Wooyoung stay tucked into each other, watching like proud mothers as you wave your goodbye, wiggling your eyebrows. You blow a final kiss to Sweetie before you’re out the door, in the open air of an unforgiving February night, Yunho’s car parked directly next to yours. He opens the door for you, closes it behind you, and he’s in the driver’s seat in a flash.
“How are you?” He asks as he clasps his seatbelt and immediately you’re filled with the ick of inevitable awkwardness. You hated small talk, you hated this feeling, of a new relationship budding, of not automatically being at the oversharing-because-I-can stage.
But you respond politely, with a smile on your face that he couldn’t see through, all the way to the fucking restaurant. A nice place, moody lighting, an obvious date night spot. Your table is off to the side, against the beige-colored wall, more private than the center of the restaurant, thankfully. The air between you is a little more congenial by the time you’ve had a quarter of your fruity cocktail and there’s food placed at the center of the white tablecloth.
“I love my kids,” you shake your head, swallowing down a bite of the appetizer he ordered, “they’re all great kids, it’s the parents that make me want to rip my hair out.”
Yunho laughs, an easygoing thing, and you smile when it reaches your ears. “They’re all bad?”
“Not all of them,” you respond, words practiced, almost scripted, at the point in date talk where you were discussing what you do for a living. Next comes future talk, if this went anything like the dates you’ve been on in the past did. “Just the ones that nitpick everything I do, like they have any idea what they’re talking about.”
Yunho nods, “It’s like that at my job, too. But not with parents, with clients, the ones who talk about artwork like it means something to them. I know they just think it looks cool and they want it on their wall, but that’s enough, I mean, leave it at that. I understand not everyone is a connoisseur.”
Your grin widens, a giggle falling past your lips as you bring your glass up to catch it. You have to give it to him, he’s funny, but not as funny as Wooyoung. He doesn’t look at you the way San looks at you, either.
By the time you’re halfway through your entree you know you aren’t going home with him. You could possibly see him again, depending on how the second half of your entree goes, but the need to see him naked on top of you isn’t quite there. A sweet guy, heart of gold, you know he’s a genuine friend, you’ve had plenty of conversations with him before at your apartment during gatherings to know enough about his nature. But romantically, sexually, there isn’t a spark in your veins, a sizzling to your blood, a dampening in your panties that makes you want more.
He’s a great guy– but he’s not for you.
“Can I ask you something?” Now a singular piece of chocolate cake between you accompanied by two silver forks, you nod as you dig the prongs into the triangular edge.
“Your jacket,” he raises his perfectly trimmed brows to the leather that hangs off the back of your chair, “it’s Wooyoung’s?”
“Definitely,” you nod furiously, without missing a beat, “you know him and Chrome Hearts are in a very serious, very committed relationship.” The smile Yunho gives you in response doesn’t completely reach his eyes. You pop a brow, “Why?”
His fork dances around the plate, “I don’t know.” Setting it down softly, he leans back in the upholstered chair, “wearing his jacket on a first date, when he’s the one who set us up. I don’t know.”
Your head tilts, heat flooding you, the nervous kind. Confusion bites at the corners of your eyes as you blink at him, “What do you mean?”
“Can I be frank?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re Yunho, but sure.”
Amusement huffs from his nose, but he doesn’t exactly smile. “Is there anything going on between you?”
You pause, mid-bite, cake millimeters from touching your tongue. Body going hot, your arm lowers slowly, “Between who?”
“Between you and Wooyoung. You and San. Both of them, I don’t know.”
Your brows shoot upward, jaw dropping, “What the fuck?” Looking around, noticing the eyes on you, you cover your mouth with your hand. You didn’t realize the volume you cursed at— you mumble an I’m sorry sheepishly to the room around you.
“I’m serious,” Yunho leans forward again, and his eyes are so genuine it throws you for a loop. You knew your friendship with the pair was closer than the typical, a little strange at times, with the flirting and the touching and the looks. You knew how you felt about your roommates, your best friends, how there’s a certain depth in the way they treat you, love and respect too raw to be faked, how it always makes your stomach pang with gratitude too deep to express.
“No, Yunho.” You shake your head, fork landing on the small, ceramic plate. The words are short, not necessarily offended, but it’s clear the question didn’t sit well. Your relationship with the two men, both a third of your being, is completely platonic.
Did it really seem like it wasn’t?
“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, eyes squeezed tight, regret oozing off of him. “I don’t know why I asked you that, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you try to laugh to ease the tension, but it comes off demeaning. Yunho stiffens, hands coming up to dig the pads of his fingers into his eyes. “I’m serious, it’s fine. I know we’re a little closer than your average roommates, but we don’t fuck.”
You could feel eyes in the room on you again, this time you ignore them. Yunho’s hands leave his face, eyes cracking open, words escaping from his lips too quickly to have been thought about first, “You never have? Not even with Sannie?”
“Not even with Sannie, no. I haven’t seen him naked since we were seven, we’ve never once kissed, nothing.”
Lies. Lies, lies, lies. You don’t know why they spill from your lips like a waterfall, like you had to defend yourself. Maybe you were trying to convince yourself more than Yunho.
His brow pops like he asked the question just to receive your deception, “That’s not true.”
Taking you by complete surprise, your heart plummets, sputtering, “O-okay, well—”
How did he know? He shouldn’t know about your times in college, Sannie throwing you around the mattress with a boy from your English class. Or the handful of times with the girl from your contemporary dance class. Or the times you’ve been each other’s New Year's Kiss, or the times you’ve messily made out in the corner of a frat house after he finished a keg-stand. It was all platonic, anyhow, so whittled down to ancient history it wasn’t even worth bringing up.
“Why lie if you aren’t doing it still?”
Your eyes widen. You don’t know why you lied. You weren’t expecting him to catch you in it. Your ears are on fire.
“I’m not lying!” It comes out louder than intended, too defensive, too full of quickly found, nervous anger. If you were honest with yourself, you thought about ancient history often, you thought about what it would have been like with Wooyoung involved too, yours and San’s missing link. A line you haven’t crossed. You and San haven’t touched each other since you were twenty-one.
But you still think about it. More than you should.
You empty a much needed breath, one heavy and long. You ignore the stares of the people around you. You try not to let Yunho’s gaze be patronizing. You try not to feel the embarrassment radiating off of him.
“I’m sorry,” you mutter, head dropping down until your chin is tucked. “I don’t know where that came from.”
“I do,” Yunho says quietly, almost shakily, like he’s scared of saying the words that follow. “You and them… you want it, don’t you?”
“We’re just friends,” you nearly whisper, an unexplainable tightness in your chest. “Roommates,” you add, and it sounds like an insult.
He lays an open palm on the table, and you pick your head up to meet his soft smile, eyes full of sadness, pity. You take his hand anyway.
“You should really tell them how you feel so this doesn’t happen again.”
How you feel?
How you feel?
You don’t even know how you feel. You have memories that linger, a soft spot for the two men you spend all your time with that was the size of a crater. You have touches, eyes, words you weren’t sure should mean more than they do. You have emotions, you have a fantasy you keep buried, you have a secret that would shatter you if it ever saw the light of day.
That line hung over your head the entire drive home. Yunho paid the bill, much to your dismay, you definitely didn’t give him the best date of his life, but your argument was cut short by the reminder that you had bigger fish to fry. You needed the brain power for the thoughts that’d keep you awake tonight, while your roommates were fast asleep in their rooms, unaware that you were pondering about the possibility of them ever being more.
Yunho parked beside your car again. Turning towards you, keeping the car running, he said, “I won’t say anything about tonight.”
“Thanks,” you mutter in a breath, “I’m sorry again.”
“Don’t be,” Yunho shakes his head, laying a hand on your thigh to squeeze it encouragingly, “I hope it works out for you.”
Giving him a weak smile, you unbuckle your seatbelt and let yourself out of the car, the stupid fucking heels on your feet clacking against the pavement. “Drive safe,” you say before closing the door behind you, and Yunho nods with a warm smile.
You face your apartment building with a pout. That could not have gone any fucking worse, and those two upstairs are going to do nothing but pester you for every single detail. Forcing a breath through your lips, you walk up the stone steps to your front door, bracing yourself for questions you can’t answer as you push it open.
The apartment was quiet, lights dim, you slipped your heels off upon entering, dangling them from your fingers. Sweetie didn’t greet you, very unlike him, but maybe he was asleep at this hour— with the frenzy in your mind you didn't realize it wasn’t late at all. You took the corner around your foyer to reach the living room, and the sight before you had a shriek ripping from your chest, eyes blowing wide, heart positively dropping into your ass.
On your living room couch, brown leather, wrinkled and weathered from years of use, was Wooyoung, shirtless, lip locked with a shirtless San beneath him. Bronzy, sculpted chests pressed together, veiny hands in dark hair, spit-stained lips messily tangled, Wooyoung’s toned hips were rutting against San’s before your shriek bursted their bubble.
They broke apart like teenagers getting caught, Wooyoung so surprised he launched off of San’s lap and onto the fucking floor. “Shy!” San yelped, as shocked as you are, gaze panic-stricken as it bounced between you and Wooyoung, he stood up instinctively.
Your insides felt like weeds. Tangled up, knotted together beyond belief, the air in your lungs was gone, there wasn’t enough oxygen in the closing room to fill them. You stared as Wooyoung blew his hair off his face, leaning back on his elbows on the floor, legs bent up and spread, denim unzipped, sporting a tent in the pocket of his undone fly.
San was no better. Undeniably hard, droplets of wetness on his low hanging gray sweats, skin red and splotchy, glowing with a sheer sheen of sweat. His hair was fucked up, as was Wooyoung’s, sticking out in every direction, curled where fingers had been rooted.
Wooyoung’s lips curled in a lazy grin, “You’re home early.”
Your hands are shaking. You think if you take one step, your knees will buckle. This feels like betrayal. Your skin is fire-hot, body buzzing with confusion, shock, rage, hurt— you were out on a date they set up for you, while they were at home fucking?! Did they just want you out of the apartment for the night? How long have they been hooking up?
You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, you can feel every ounce of blood thrashing beneath your skin like your heart was the eye of a hurricane.
Your vision blurs, words coming out short, “I-I don’t—” shaking your head, you move in the direction of your bedroom. Sweetie’s at your side, you don’t know where he even came from, you don’t have the heart to greet him. Under your breath you mutter, “I’m going to bed.”
“Shy,” San calls after you, his voice strained. A little louder, a little harsher, he tries again, “Shy!”
You close your bedroom door and flatten your back against it, breath leaving you in tremors, palms shaky against the wood behind you. Sweetie is at your feet, dancing on his paws, whimpering for some form of attention from you, sensing all the emotion in your chest.
You sink down until your ass meets the floor, eyes focused on nothing, hands mindlessly reaching for Sweetie as your brain replays everything you just saw. Wooyoung’s back arching his chest into San’s, San’s tongue slipping between Wooyoung’s lips, one hand on Wooyoung’s thigh while the other tugged at his hair. Wooyoung’s hips rolling against him, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, a shakiness to his lean body that could only be perceived as need. This was not the first time they’ve done that.
Your chin tilts upward as Sweetie licks your cheeks, you didn’t realize silent tears poured down them, dripping from your jaw. You couldn’t deny it now— everything Yunho insinuated, everything he said, how witnessing those two together made you feel. You wanted them. You wanted to be in the middle. You wanted their lips and hands on you just as much as you wanted to watch them touch each other.
Fuck.
You can’t pretend like your feelings don’t exist anymore. Half the reason you didn’t want to go tonight was because you wished they were taking you out, instead. You wished they begged you to stay home, with them, watching movies curled up on the couch, just to end up how they did without you. Without you. There wasn’t any room for you, they had a relationship on their own. They left you out of it. They set you up with someone else so they could have each other.
It hurts like a knife to your gut.
You can hear them whispering through the walls. You can’t make out a word, but they sound like they’re arguing, or debating. Then it’s quiet.
Sweetie whimpers again. You pouted at him, his precious face seemed like it was pouting back at you. “It’s okay,” you reassure the puppy, hands cupping his face, scratching behind his ears, “I’m okay, I promise.”
Wiping your tears, heaving a breath, you push yourself up, leaving your heels thrown beside the door where you dropped them. You tug the leather off your shoulders, hanging it in your closet— you didn’t have the heart to give it back to him right now, but it was too expensive to throw haphazardly on your gaming chair.
After pulling out pajamas, you reached for your zipper, but you couldn’t reach it to get it down. You tried again, folding your arms behind you, fingers touching, zipper out of reach. You curse under your breath, shoulders strained, it hurt, your breathing picks up again in frustration.
Sweetie jumps on your bed, watching you. It seemed he felt pity for you, too, sitting on his back legs, head tilted as watches how pathetic you looked— the tears bubbled up again.
San knocks on your door twice. You know it’s him because the knocks are soft, gentle, Wooyoung would have just barged inside after a slew of obnoxious knocks of his knuckles. You didn’t want to see either of them right now.
“Let me get your zipper.”
Your arms unfold from your back, hands planting against the mattress beside Sweetie, head dropping as a defeated sob silently rips from your throat. The black lab’s nose nuzzles in your hair as you force the tears back in, back down, away.
San opens the door without waiting for your response. You can’t see him eye the pair of heels on your floor, picking them up, placing them in front of your wide closet, you keep your eyes on the white comforter, laser focused on keeping your emotion locked up. On silent feet he comes up behind you, moving your hair out of the way, deft fingers slowly pulling your zipper down your back.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is as soft as his movements, tender, like if he spoke the wrong word you’d crumble in his hands. You shake your head, sniffing. His sigh is light, apologetic, “We didn’t think you’d be home so early.”
“It’s okay, I’m fine. The date just didn’t go as planned,” your voice is nasally from how much snot had formed in your sinuses. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, standing up, turning to look at him. Still shirtless, skin still red and splotchy, the only difference now was that his face was filled with concern instead of shock. “I’m sorry I broke up your date night.”
He shakes his head fervently, “You didn’t break up anything, Shygirl, what happened on your date? You didn’t like Yunho? Are you okay? Did he do anything—”
A sharp chuckle tumbles past your lips, you look off to the side, shaking your head. “I don’t wanna talk about it, I just wanna go to sleep.”
You can feel the cool air of your bedroom on your bare back. You feel exposed, despite being naked in front of him so many times in your life, despite standing before him in a bra and underwear just hours earlier. You cross your arms over your chest. “Go back to Wooyoung.”
His lips tighten, but he nods, eyes searching your face for something he can’t find. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?”
You nod, looking up at him just as another hot tear slips down your cheek. He raises a hand to cup your cheek, to wipe your tear away with his thumb, but you pull away. His eyes widen ever so slightly, you’ve never once pulled away from his touch. He doesn’t press it, instead he turns on his heel, leaving your room, closing the door behind him gently, knowing space was what you needed, even if he wished you needed him.
You felt better in comfy clothes, curled up in your bed, Sweetie snoring softly beside you, his head basically on your pillow. You tried to focus on that, how his shiny black coat rose and fell with each breath, how he stayed by your side because he knew you needed comfort. Your brain was too muddled to pick apart each and every emotion you were feeling, there were too many, too blended together.
But you definitely tried, for each hour you were supposed to be asleep.
The studio is quiet.
Rehearsal finished for the night, all of your kids home by now, probably doing last-minute homework or showering before school tomorrow, you don’t know what you’re still doing here. The floors are mopped, the mirrors wiped down, the speaker is off and plugged in, your laptop and charger tucked away in your tote. Sitting on the floor of your studio, criss-cross-applesauce, you leaned back on your palms, chin tipped up to the ceiling.
It’s been a week since you found out your two best friends, your roommates, the two people you now know you’re in love with, are in a relationship. You truly have no idea how you got away from their barrage of questions unscathed, the two men want to know every detail of your life on a regular Tuesday, let alone when you come home crying after a date. You put your deceptive shoes on, straightened your back, and blamed every single one of your tears on how sad you were about it not working out with Yunho.
Truth was, you haven’t spared the date with Yunho a single thought since you came home to see them making out on the couch. Since then, it’s been a constant fight convincing yourself everything was fine. In reality, everything was fine, you’re healthy, you’re stable, you have a puppy at home that still pees a little out of excitement when you walk through the front door.
You just couldn’t have what you wanted most, and you’re not a child anymore. Wooyoung and San seem so happy together, attached at the hip, pressing soft kisses to each other’s lips randomly, giggling at something the other said, so lovesick and ignorant to how shitty it all made you feel, you couldn’t be mad. You tried your hardest not to be upset.
As if you’ve been onstage for a week now, it’s felt like seven days of constant performance. Wearing the mask, playing the part of a perfectly-okay-girl, not letting them peer inside to see your heart shredded beneath your ribs. There was still a part of you that was disappointed they couldn’t see through the charade, they knew you better than anyone else, too occupied with one another to make an effort in seeing the truth.
“What are you still doing here?”
You picked your head up, wide-eyed as you glanced at Wooyoung in the doorway, holding a silver ring of multi-colored keys around his pointer finger. Gray sweats, hoodie on top, a black puffer layered over it, sneakers on his feet half-tied. His hair laid messy over his cheekbones, forced down flat beneath the deep red hood, the color compliments him. You think every color in his closet compliments him.
“Hello? Shygirl?” He’s smiling now, taking a few steps inside the studio, eyes raking over your frozen form. He pushes the ring of keys inside the pocket of his puffer as he gets closer, bending down at the knees, the backs of his thighs tucked to his calves.
“Just thinkin’,” you smile weakly, head rolling to the side, cheek landing on your shoulder. He’s so pretty, barefaced, skin clear and soft and beautiful. Shadowed beneath his hood he looks even more breathtaking, the hollows of his cheeks prominent, the freckle under his eye appearing darker.
With a heavy breath he leans backward, landing on his ass, arms stretched out behind him, mimicking the same way you sat. His legs longer than yours, they straighten out in front of him, feet tangled between where yours sat strategically. Always close, never close enough.
“About what?” He tilts his head. “Competition?”
Yeah, that sounds good enough. You nod and he begins his encouraging monologue all over again, softness in his tone, a determined edge of confidence, you’ve heard it all before. You didn’t care to listen to the details.
“Okay, be serious, what’s up?” He reigns in his knees, wrapping his arms around them, leaning forward, brows furrowed. “You’ve been off all week, Shy. I know it’s not dance-related.”
You give him a weak, disappointed smile, shaking your head. The worst, shittiest excuse comes to mind, but you’d rather use any excuse than tell him why shrapnel floated through your blood, pieces of your heart that shattered beyond repair a week ago. “I’m just getting my period, I’m in my head, that’s all.”
He pouts, “You swear?”
You nod, eyes heavy, “I swear.”
It doesn’t even feel bad to lie. Maybe you’re tired of wearing the mask. Tired of feeling.
“Wanna dance with me?”
Your eyes flicker up to him, a question in your lifted brow. “Dance?”
His grin has turned mischievous, lopsided eyes thinning with the giddiness on his cheeks, he plants his palms on the floor to push himself up, throwing his puffer to the side as he walks to the speaker in the corner of the room. Turning it on, static catching as he plugged in his phone, he looked over his shoulder to ask, “What song?”
“Woo,” you shake your head, “I don’t want to–”
“Come on,” he looks back at his phone screen, you can only assume he’s scrolling through his liked songs on Spotify, “your endorphins are in jail right now, they need to be released.”
Your lips tighten, he leaves no room to argue. He never does.
Ain't another woman that can take your spot, my…
He turns with the same feline grin as bass pounds through the room. He turned the volume up on the speaker, the building empty, no one lingering around to hear it.
Your brows raise, a smile begging to curve your lips, “Justin Timberlake? Really?”
“Get up!” He yells, chest pumping to each beat, limbs fluid as his feet glide in your direction, “It’s just you and me, Shy-Shy. Come on.”
You push yourself up off the marley flooring reluctantly, and then you hear his voice.
“If I wrote you a symphony, just to say how much you mean to me,” he grabs your hands as soon as you get your footing, a scowl on your face as he pulls you towards him, “If I told you you were beautiful, would you date me on the regular?”
You can’t fight the smile that creeps over your cheeks this time, letting him guide you to the center of the room, still fighting your instinct that begs your body to move to the beat of the song. Bodies facing the mirror that stretches from one wall to the other, he glides behind you, his right hand still over yours, freeing your left.
“I can see us holdin' hands, walkin' on the beach, our toes in the sand. I can see us on the country side, sittin' on the grass, layin' side by side,” still holding your hand, you sing with him as he guides you, his left hand on your hip. “You can be my baby, let me make you my lady, girl, you amaze me. Ain't gotta do nothin' crazy, see, all I want you to do is be my love.”
You’re giggling at first, moving with him, singing loudly in the studio, until he spins you around, two hands on your hips, holding you close.
Ain't another woman that could take your spot, my love…
Your smile falters, lips parting as you stare up at him, breath stolen from your chest. His hoodie had fallen, leaving his hair visibly messy over his face, a smile so true, chocolate eyes holding half of your heart, you remember who he is. Jung Wooyoung, roommate, best friend, coworker, he’s so many things to you, but not yours.
Is this some kind of sick joke?
Like he can read your thoughts, like he’s trying to make you forget, he twists you back around. Two hands on your hips, knees bent and legs spread, you follow suit, watching each other in the mirror. Your outfits look planned, your sweats baggy and low, hoodie tucked up, hair that was once in a bun now halfway spilling down your cheeks, you let your body flow. Allowing your mind to go blank, you let yourself feel the music, your hips sway with his, your movements clean, you dance together like you choreographed it.
“There you go,” he’s grinning again, nodding, encouraging, “my love, my love, my love.”
Four minutes and thirty-six seconds feels like a lifetime, yet no time at all. You and Wooyoung, your bluetoothed brains, and Justin Timberlake in the studio nearing eleven at night, you ended the song out of breath, staring at each other from feet away, as if you’re twenty-five all over again when San had just opened the studio. Brain cleared, endorphins released, you did feel lighter– not better, but lighter, like Wooyoung reached into your mind and took the edge off himself.
“Feel better?” He’s smiling, chest heaving, hands on his hips, one knee bent with the other holding his weight.
You nod, tugging on your ponytail to free your hair, just to pull it up all over again. Walking toward him, you’re still out of breath, “We should have recorded that.”
“We can do it again,” he offers, “although I don’t think we’ll ever reach that level of synchronicity without choreography again.”
You laugh, a lighthearted thing, “No, I think that was the extent of our bluetooth abilities.”
He takes a step forward, throwing his arms out to wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I missed dancing with you.”
He smells like home, woodsy, spicy, sweaty– you can’t help the way you drink him in, letting the smell of him calm something primal, something integral in your soul.
Wooyoung is convinced you’re the only person in the world that can steal the breath from his lungs just by looking at him. Your arms wrapped around his torso, chin tucked into his chest, looking up at him with those big eyes he could get lost in, his breath catching in his throat is a verbal sound. He can feel the heat in the base of his spine, he settles into your touch as it spreads through him like wildfire, his heart picking up speed, pounding harder against his chest.
Holding you like this, wanting you like this, like he has since the day he first saw you– around a fire, in the backyard of a house party at Seonghwa’s place, sat next to San with a cute, shy little smile on your cheeks. He thought you were San’s girlfriend, he assumed it from the way you looked at each other, spoke to each other. Stars in your eyes, a soft, comforting tenderness in your voice that turned your words into song, Wooyoung thought he’d lost before he even entered the game.
But then he watched San leave your side for the pretty brunette from his dance class, the guy Wooyoung kept his eye on, taller than San, muscular, beautiful. Mere minutes went by before San kissed him, and even if San was shorter, smaller, Wooyoung watched as he dominated the kiss, hands in his hair, making the taller man cower for him. Obey him, even just in a kiss.
Then you stood, sauntering over in your ripped denim that hugged your ass perfectly, one hand on San’s shoulder had him pulling away fully, dimples out in a smile, face flushed with a hazy, lustful stare. You talked, talked, and talked before San was grabbing you by the hand, the man following behind you both as you left. The three of you, together, you left together.
Wooyoung was left confused– aroused, curious, hopeful, but still so fucking confused. He asked around, Yeosang told him the nature of your relationship, that San’s known you forever, that you do that sometimes. Casually. You weren’t dating– but you fucked. Other people. Together.
Wooyoung wanted to be next.
He wanted you. He wanted San. He wanted both of you. Carnally.
But that day never came. He formed a friendship with you easily, with San easily, the three of you becoming a trio that did everything together, but your hobby, your past-time after a party, never included him. In fact, it stopped altogether when Wooyoung became involved.
It’s not like he didn’t try, he’s flirty by nature, it comes as easily to him as breathing, but eventually he accepted that your relationship, your friendship, had taken root in something platonic. It bloomed into the best thing that’s ever happened to him, two people that love him fully, unconditionally, but by the time he moved into your shared apartment, he had to pluck the petals off the basis of his interest– his arousal, his want, his need, tucked away in his back pocket like it was never there to begin with.
It became easy, over time, until San kissed him for the first time, restarting all the work he’s done, placing him back at square one. Three in the morning in the kitchen of the apartment, the only light over the sink, dimmed and low, San took Wooyoung by his cheeks and made him feel like San wanted him the whole time, too.
And he did, Wooyoung learned. And he still wanted you. So did Wooyoung.
“I missed it, too,” you whisper, your face too close, he has to swallow down his instinct, every fiber of his being that tells him to fucking kiss you. Dancing with you, it’s something the two of you used to do often when San first opened the studio, when you weren’t as busy, as successful as you are now.
Sometimes San was included, in the corner of the room, correcting your form with a smile on his dimpled cheeks, amusement on his tongue, sometimes he was dancing with you, too. Late into the night, sometimes a few seltzers added into the mix, those nights Wooyoung could have sworn there was an understanding between the three of you, that there was a layer of arousal, of want, those nights Wooyoung prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that you’d repeat history with him. For him. The way you looked at him, the glint in your eye, even now, more often than not you looked at Wooyoung like you wanted him to pin you to the floor beneath you.
For years that look has given him hope, that eventually something will happen, something will bloom between the three of you. It won’t just be him and San pining over you while they try to fill the gap with each other.
He hasn’t seen that look once since you caught him with San. You said you were fine, okay, that their relationship doesn’t bother you, that you’re happy for them– and there’s truth to it somewhere, Wooyoung assumes the truth is mixed into the lies, that you weren’t completely bullshitting him, the only reason they tried to set you up with Yunho is because they were convinced it’d never happen with you. They gave up. At least Yunho was a nice guy.
His arms lift from your shoulders to push your hair away from your face, stray pieces that had fallen even if you’d just put it up, barefaced, maybe some mascara on your lashes, he’s stunned the way he always is. So beautiful it makes his stomach hurt, your skin soft in his palms, warm in such an inviting way, he doesn’t want to let go. His voice tumbles out small, “You’re so pretty, Shy.”
Your heart skips a beat in your chest. His eyes look so soft, a fond smile on his lips while his eyes glance at yours like he was going to kiss you, while he looks at you like he loves you, he does love you– it’s different. It looks different. Chest turning tight, stomach doing a flip, your arms uncurl from around his waist, you break away from him quickly like he burned you, the loss of warmth hits hard even if you were the one who enforced it. “You shouldn’t do that,” your tone comes out harsher than you wanted it to, voice slightly broken, stressed. Panicked.
Wooyoung’s brows furrow, “What? I- Shy.”
“It’s disrespectful,” you don’t know why you’re speaking, where this is coming from. Your throat is tight, heart pounding against your breastplate, you bring your hand up to lay where it’s bursting from your chest. “You can’t do things like that anymore, Woo,” you’re avoiding his eye, head shaking rapidly, voice panicked and wary beyond control, “not anymore.”
“I made her hate me because I couldn’t control myself.”
Wooyoung is pacing around San’s room, shirtless, his hair sticking out in every which way atop his head, oily after work, even more so from how many times he’s ran his hands through it. San, on his bed, also shirtless, briefs loose on his hips, wears furrowed brows and a solemn downcurve of his lips after hearing the story Wooyoung frantically woke him up to tell him.
The younger man ripped his hoodie and his tee off his upper half upon entering the room, crawling onto San’s bed, shaking him awake. Eyes barely closed, he’d just fallen asleep, blinked awake upon the first shake of his shoulders, “Woo? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I think Shy hates me,” his face was red even in San’s dark room, brows furrowed and voice panicked in a way he hadn't heard in a long time.
San sits up halfway, turning over to face Wooyoung, “What? No she doesn’t, what happened?”
“We were at the studio, we danced, I called her pretty and she freaked out,” Wooyoung sits back, his breaths quick and uneven between his words, he toys with his fingers in his lap, eyes wide, blinking rapidly. “She called me disrespectful, Sannie, she said I can’t do that anymore, I don’t know what happened San, I–”
“Baby,” San reaches to put a hand on his cheek, taking note of how hot he felt, “calm down, breathe. Don’t say anything, breathe with me for a few and then we can talk, okay?”
Wooyoung’s first breath is shaky, panicked, like he couldn’t suck down air fast enough, couldn’t get it deep enough. San sits up fully, pressing a hand onto his diaphragm, keeping the other soft on his cheek, “Breathe, baby.”
A few counted breaths until he sounded even, one singular hot tear rolling down his cheek onto San’s palm, the older man leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. “No matter what, she doesn’t hate you, okay? Tell me what happened.”
Wooyoung takes another two breaths before speaking, telling him the story from the start. How you looked at him like you were offended, like he’d just done the worst thing in the world, how you didn’t speak to him the entire subway ride home. How when you walked inside the apartment you barely greeted Sweetie, instead you silently gave him a treat from the counter before bringing him to your room, closing the door behind you. You didn’t even look at him, like he wasn’t beside you the whole time.
Mid-story he’d jumped off the bed, began pacing back and forth on San’s carpeted bedroom floor, speaking a mile a minute, each word edged with panic like he’d done something despicable.
“She hates me,” he finally stood in the middle of the room, voice cracking, “I made her hate me because I couldn’t control myself.”
“No, Woo,” San shakes his head, voice soft and comforting, “knowing her, she thinks our dynamic changed. To her, we’re off-limits now, we can’t act the way we always have, can’t flirt and touch and do all the things that make us, us.”
He starts pacing again, hands running through his hair, tugging at his roots. San can barely see more than his shadow in his dark room, but he doesn’t need to see to know what look is on Wooyoung’s face, how his brows tie together, how he tucks his lips together, face splotched red.
“I don’t want that!” Wooyoung keeps his voice a low cry, “I don’t want us to change. This isn’t what I wanted to happen, I want her to want us, I want her.”
“Come here,” San keeps his voice calm, steady. Wooyoung walks over, standing between San’s legs, one of his hands still in his hair. San leans forward, plants his palms on Wooyoung’s hips, “She has no idea how we feel about her, Woo. She’s trying to be fair, to keep her distance so she doesn’t hurt either of us. You know how her head works, baby.”
“What if she doesn’t forgive me?” The way his voice breaks is like a shot through San’s heart. But San knows you better, he knows your mind, knows your soul, he’s known you since you gained consciousness, he’s watched them form, learned you as you grew.
“There’s nothing to forgive you for, baby,” San whispers, tugging the younger man towards him, forcing his knees onto the bed, to bracket around his hips. He brings a hand up, petting his hair, sliding down to cup Wooyoung’s cheek, bringing him closer, “Everything is okay.”
Wooyoung presses his lips into San’s, hands landing on his broad shoulders, his body melting into San’s touch, finding comfort in his hard, broad body, his own sinking into him. Wooyoung’s hands travel to find his neck, his cheeks, deepening the kiss, his tongue poking out to slide into San’s mouth, still light, steady.
Until San’s length twitches under Wooyoung, making the younger man smile into his mouth, “Yeah? Hard already?”
“Don’t tease me,” San is breathless, their lips still touching, “I’m supposed to be making you feel better.”
“Ah,” Wooyoung’s tone is still teasing, his grin spreading into a smirk, “I know how you can make me feel better.”
San snorts, head tipping back until he falls back onto the bed, letting Wooyoung crawl on top of him, his head tilting as Wooyoung leans his head down, pressing a kiss to one of San’s pecs, soft hands roaming his torso. Body shivering, San keeps his voice light, “Did you freak out just to fuck me? A ploy, huh?”
San can make the outline of Wooyoung’s scowl as he stares up at him, making San chuckle, Wooyoung bites down on his skin and he hisses. “I was stressed,” Wooyoung’s voice is sharp, “I still am stressed, but now I’m kinda horny and it’s your fault.”
San laughs again, hands coming up to tangle in Wooyoung’s hair, pulling him upward, “I’m sorry baby, I'll fix it for you, yeah?”
Thirty minutes rolling around in the sheets, keeping their voices quiet, their movements slow but not any less tantalizing, Wooyoung is filled, sated, skin sticky against San’s as he lays on the older man’s chest, dozing off to the sound of his heartbeat.
Despite being woken up by Wooyoung, it’s harder for San to find sleep now, mind muddled with thoughts about you. Analyzing Wooyoung’s story, the details, how you looked at him– he wondered if there was a small chance you felt the same way towards them.
While you were still in college, you and San had moments where lines blurred, he can still remember the nights where you brought someone home just to barely touch them. So wrapped up in each other, lost in pleasure, you almost forgot there was a third person there to play with. It didn’t just happen once, not even twice, it happened enough times to where you had to stop after the third person left angry and unsatisfied, an unsettling feeling floating around the room that neither of you had the balls to address.
Always light, always casual, you explored pleasure together, different positions, different kinks, different dynamics for so long– he blamed those days on you two being young, horny, rabid animals, looking for a good fuck, a new skill to add to your arsenal. It was around the time you two met Wooyoung, San thinks, when that night happened, the last time you touched each other sexually. Still to this day, unspoken, swept beneath the rug.
San sometimes wonders if the lines blurred sooner, he’s loved you since you were young, in high school even, it’s petrified him since he was a teenager to tell you how he feels. What if you don’t feel the same way? What if he told you, and your friendship ended? He couldn’t bear a life without you, he doesn’t know a life without you.
Maybe he figured one day his feelings would dissipate into thin air, that he didn’t need you to love him back, that as long as he never told you, you’d still be friends. But then you fucked. And then you fucked again. And you kept fucking until San realized he’d never be satisfied with anyone else, that he needed you, he needed you to love him back, he needed to treat you how you deserved.
When you stared at him with wide eyes, crawled off the bed with shaky legs, retreating back to your room without a word, San almost laughed at himself. At his feelings. Because why would you ever love him back? He's watched you grow up, each phase, your best and your worst, that’s friend zone material, at least in his younger, twenty-something year old mind.
But you never grew apart. And after the fucking stopped, the makeouts, the lazy hookups, the people you both thought were sexy and sought out together, it seemed to have added yet another layer of strength to your relationship. Vulnerability. A closeness you should never, ever have with a friend as close as you two are, it never ends well.
Years later, still in the same boat. He still loves you the same. He still wants you the same. Somehow he got comfortable without the intimacy— or without the sexual aspect, he should say, because your relationship was full of intimacy. It never really bothered him, he never really yearned for more, until it was three in the morning and he had his fist wrapped around his cock with only you in his mind.
Then he had Wooyoung, the sole person he’s entrusted with his feelings, sputtering words between Wooyoung’s tongue pushing between his lips, so obviously confessing feelings that he’s kept trapped inside for over a decade, just to find out Wooyoung feels the same way. That he’s also wanted you since he laid eyes on you.
It was confusing, the lack of possession, of jealousy in his gut. He already knew he wanted Wooyoung, living with the younger man only made him love him more, their friendship was already blurring lines the day they met. For awhile San thought maybe you felt it too, that maybe you saw how Wooyoung looked at you, maybe you realized San had never started treating you differently. That he loved you, that Wooyoung loved you, and it wasn’t all platonic.
He wonders if you love them back. If there’s even a small, microscopic part of you that wants them, more than friendship, more than sex, even. Not that he’d decline you if you proposed sleeping together. For a week now, your spark’s been gone, the twinkle in your big, doe eyes you wear like an accessory was replaced with something dull, something sad. You blamed it on the date with Yunho— but was that really the truth? You barely told them any details, you kept it vague, you even blamed that on not wanting to think about it, talk about it.
As he settles into the mattress beneath Wooyoung, one arm curled up to hold his head close to his chest, he wonders if you’re asleep in the other room, dreaming of more, too.
“It’s fine,” you smile weakly at Wooyoung whose head is burrowing into your chest like he’d crawl inside and make a home there if you let him. “I’m sorry I gave you the silent treatment, I just freaked out a little.”
His voice is muffled by your hoodie, your chest that his head was buried in, “Don’t apologize, please don’t apologize to me, I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“Woo,” you forced out a chuckle, flexing your body on the old, brown leather couch that he was forcing you deeper into, “look at me.”
He picks his head up, his pretty, bronzy, bare face is littered by splotches of cherry. You ruffle his hair, smelling your shampoo, a blend of grapefruit and vanilla, “I’m not mad, it’s fine. Let’s just be done with it, put it past us, okay?”
Wooyoung pouts, but he nods, then lays back on your chest all over again. You groan, shifting your body to get comfortable under his weight, wondering how the fuck they were hooking up on this thing when you have to fight for your life to get comfortable on it.
“Sannie,” you shout into the open, living room air, “come get your boyfriend off of me!”
Wooyoung gasps, picking his head up to shout towards the hallway, “Don’t! I’m exactly where I want to be.”
Your head tips back in a laugh, knees bent up on either side of his body that’s dead weight on top of you, arms caging you in against the couch. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“You’re warm, let me stay,” he nuzzles his head into your hoodie further, his voice a sated mumble.
You smack your teeth, eyeing the pink princess blanket between your bodies, “You’re laying on top of the blanket and you don’t have clothes on.”
Shirtless, briefs on his legs, he snickers, guilty as charged. “You’re the only heat I need, baby.”
“Woo.”
“Too soon?” He picks his head up, brows lifted and eyes apologetic, “I’m sorry.”
San comes out of the hallway, fresh out of the shower, droplets of water sinking down his temples, onto his bare shoulders, his chest from his still-soaked hair. It makes your breath stutter in your chest the way it always does, he’s so effortlessly perfect it makes you miss touching him, feeling his soft skin beneath your fingers, sinking your nails into his strong, hard muscles. He smiles when he sees you, dimples prominent, he says nothing as he crosses the room with bare feet, nothing on his body but gray sweats on his legs.
“Don’t you dare,” you warn, seeing the twinkle of mischief in his eye, how his grin turns from soft to playful.
He ignores you by crawling onto the couch, shoving you into the back of it so he can take up the side, the couch just big enough to squeeze the three of you, only if San’s strength is on the outside to keep you boxed in.
You yelp as your body sinks into the couch, “San! I was comfortable.”
“You’re only comfortable on the L part,” San quips, body nuzzling into yours, Wooyoung giggling from below you.
“The chaise?” You snort, eyes flickering up to his that stare right back, “we’ve had two sectionals since we got this apartment, and you don’t know it’s called a chaise?”
He giggles, “I don’t care what it’s called, I just know that you like it.”
“And you only sit in the corner,” Wooyoung adds, his head sinking down to lay on your stomach. Your ankles cross over his back as his arms curl under yours, more comfortable now that you’re tangled, his arms taking pressure off your lower back.
“Let’s stay like this forever,” San doesn’t give you time to answer, squeezing in closer, pushing you and Wooyoung further to the back of the couch. He smells like his bodywash, sweet and soft, you would stay forever if you could.
Your voice comes out strangled under the pressure of his body, “We’re gonna have to, because soon I’ll be dead. You’re gonna kill me if you keep pushing me into the couch, Sannie.”
“I just want to keep you here,” he pouts, squishing his face closer until his nose presses against your cheek, “if I let you go, you’ll run away.”
His wet hair bleeds into the pillow, quickly spreading to where your head lays, it brushes against the side of your head the closer he gets, it’s cold. You squirm, “Your hair is freezing, Sannie, holy shit, there’s too much happening right now.”
San whines, but he rolls off the couch, landing on one steady foot, standing up. You suck in a breath, but your pillow’s already soiled, you frown. He grins.
“I’m going to the studio,” he says swiftly, “come with me, I have a few things to do before the day starts.”
You groan, lip lifting in protest, “I don’t have a rehearsal ‘til six.”
“Lucky,” Wooyoung mumbles, “Mine’s at four.”
“I know when yours is,” you mumble back, “I was gonna enjoy my alone time.”
“Freak,” San teases, a smile playing on his lips, amused at what he insinuated.
Wooyoung’s laugh is loud, piercing through the room, “That was a good one.”
Your brows raise, deadpanning, “And what if you’re right, hm? What then?”
They both turn to look at you, faces serious, both silently asking really?
It’s your turn to laugh, head tipping back into the pillow, and they both groan, San walking away, Wooyoung pushing off of you. It makes you laugh harder, talking through it, “Come on, that was a good one, you should have seen your faces.”
“Are you seriously not gonna come?” San, brows raised, asks from the entry to the hallway. “We can stop for food on the way, the three of us can hangout before everyone else shows up.”
You make a show of shaking your head back and forth, “I have shit to do here before work.”
Wooyoung smacks his teeth, “Like what? Laundry?”
You flatten your lips, “Have you seen the mountain of clothes in my room?”
San snorts, disappearing into the hallway, and Wooyoung finally climbs off the couch, “Fine, do your laundry, but I know you’ll miss us.”
“I’ll miss you so bad,” you’re wearing a smile now, watching him with lazy eyes as he follows behind San into the hallway, disappearing into the shadow of the walls.
Your smile falters, settling, before a frown takes its place. Soon enough, probably sooner than you think, you’re sure you won’t be able to do this anymore– spend so much time with them, cuddle with them, live with them, eventually they’ll grow sick of you, they’ll only want each other.
There’s already no room for you in their relationship, and with time, you’re sure the space they’ve carved out for you will dwindle to nothing. Looking across the room, you find Sweetie sunbathing beneath the window, his head politely tucked over his paws, the sun casting a shiny glow over his black coat, the sight makes you smile. You call him over and immediately he’s jumping onto the couch, laying on you where Wooyoung had just been, replacing the warmth he’d ripped away.
“At least I have you,” you whisper, smiling, fingers scratching under his ears.
“Yunho!” Wooyoung all but whispers, his loud voice carrying down the aisle, perking his tall friends’ ears. The older man whips his head around in confusion, smiling when he sees Wooyoung and San, giving them a small wave before walking down the aisle to greet them properly.
Stopping in a mid-sized corner store, the halfway point between the studio and home, San made good on his promise to pick up food on the way into work; Wooyoung was already giddy before seeing Yunho, this corner store was his favorite, it sold his favorite energy drink.
“Whatsup?” Yunho’s grin is wide as he clasps the hand of both men, pulling them both into a hug, landing a smack on their backs. “You guys going to Steer on Friday? I heard it’s got a weird industrial, mechanical vibe to it, I don’t know. Joong seems pretty hype about it.”
San and Wooyoung both nod, but it’s San who answers, “Yeah, yeah, we wouldn’t miss it.”
“Sounds weird, though,” Wooyoung adds, “do you know if the drinks are cheap?”
“Three bucks a beer,” Yunho’s tongue pokes out from between his teeth, nodding, and the three men erupt into what can only be described as men-turned-pelicans finding an endless pit of fish to feed on.
They’re all smiles and laughter until Yunho asks if you’re going, which sparks the two men’s memory, Wooyoung and San’s backs standing a little straighter, entering Shy-defense-mode.
“I…” San begins, then turns to Wooyoung.
Wooyoung, already staring at him, blinks, then turns to Yunho, “Maybe?” He gives it a second, then blurts, “Can I just ask what happened between you two?”
San’s lips tighten, head falling until his chin tucks into his chest. They shouldn’t have asked, Wooyoung shouldn’t have asked, but he can’t help his curiosity– he wants to know, too. They haven’t gotten anything besides vague answers from you.
Yunho’s eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. It makes San curious, too curious for his own good, he adds, “We won’t say anything, she just won’t tell us anything, and we’re worried about her, y’know?”
Yunho’s chin tilts in defense, brows flattening, “I didn’t– it was just–”
“We’re not accusing you of anything bad,” Wooyoung waves his hands out in front of him, eyes wide, chucking nervously. “Shy said you were really great to her, it just didn’t work out, or something. She cried for like an entire day after and wouldn’t tell us any more details.”
San frowns with remembrance, how you shut yourself away and wouldn’t let them in, figuratively and literally. When Wooyoung’s hand falls to his side, San grabs it, giving him an encouraging squeeze, the two meeting eyes with small, fond smiles painted on their cheeks. Yunho’s eyes lock on the action, on their smiles, confusion morphing his features, everything scrunching together at once.
“What?” San asks, “Was everything okay? You’re both being so ominous about it.”
“Us?” San asks, surprised, eyes wide and brows high.
San and Wooyoung share a look, then reluctantly, they nod. Wooyoung smiles, “Yeah, we’re together.”
“Like, just the two of you?” Yunho has a finger pointed, dancing between the two of them.
San’s head turns in question, “Yes?”
Yunho’s jaw drops, nodding slowly, then with a pitched, disbelieving tone, he mumbles, “No shit.”
“I know,” San nods with a knowing smile, thinking he’s got all of Yunho’s thoughts figured out. “Long time coming, though.”
“It’s been like, a little over a week of us being together officially,” Wooyoung adds, his grin proud and wide, “but it’s been good so far. We’re happy.”
“Does she know?” Yunho asks, his face quickly settling back into confusion.
Wooyoung’s lips purse, “Yeah, she knows. Why?”
Yunho nods slowly again like he’s thinking, then shakes his head quickly when Wooyoung’s question settles. “No reason, just wondering. Anyways, I’ve really gotta run, I’ve got this thing that I’m already late to and… art, and you know, yeah. Bye.”
“Wait, you didn’t–”
“Sorry guys, see you Friday though, yeah?” Yunho gives them a brief smile, then scurries down the aisle like Wooyoung and San were about to put the plague in his palms.
Wooyoung and San stand there for a second, brows furrowed, heads tilted, before they look at each other utterly dumbfounded. Wooyoung points down the aisle, “Was that homophobic?”
San, still confused, responds, “Perhaps.”
“Hm,” Wooyoung’s eyes thin, “could’ve sworn him and Mingi fucked before.”
“I thought so too,” San squeezes his hand again, “who cares? We can snitch on him Friday.”
Wooyoung’s grin returns, laughing loud enough for the whole bodega to hear, “Imagine Hongjoong’s face.”
“Hongjoong would beat the shit out of him with one hand, Naoya style.”
The more San thinks about it, the more he thinks Yunho might not actually be homophobic at all.
“Don’t call me schizophrenic.”
Wooyoung snorts, “Are you about to say something that will make me think you’re schizophrenic?”
“Maybe,” San responds, lips scrunched. Sitting at the receptionist desk at the front of the studio, the final piece of San’s thought process clicked into place when you brushed past them into your studio for rehearsal. “I think Shy might love us back.”
Wooyoung, sitting fully on the desk beside San, wears a white tank on his upper half, exposing the tattoo on his forearm, black sweats on his lower, hiding each inch of bronzy, toned muscle. He’s housing a granola bar, his knees spread, back hunched, brows raised as he watches San think.
“That interaction with Yunho was kinda weird,” San begins, leaning back into the rolling computer chair, hands lazily thrown at the center of his spread thighs. In all black, his clothes look painted on, tee clinging to his chest, his arms, his torso, sweats exposing the breadth of his thighs.
“We knew this already,” Wooyoung nods, sticking out his free hand in a rolling motion, “let’s skip to the Shy part.”
“What if she was crying the whole day after her date with Yunho because of us?” His eyes flicker up to look at Wooyoung, who only raises a brow. “What if she didn’t work out with Yunho because she wants us, and she told Yunho all about it?”
“Why would she even go on the date then?”
San deadpans, “Did she want to even go on that date?”
Wooyoung slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening, “Oh my god, she definitely did not want to go on that date. What if she didn’t work out with Yunho because she wants us, and she told Yunho all about it?”
San rolls his eyes, and then literally rolls the chair away from Wooyoung who tips his head back in laughter. “I’m sorry, come back,” he says through his laughter, “please? I’ll stop, I’m sorry. It just sounds like we’re grasping for straws here.”
“Why else would Yunho be so weird about us being together?” San continues, rolling the chair until he’s between Wooyoung’s spread legs, he lays both palms on his knees. “And when he asked ‘just the two of you’? Come on, he basically told us the whole damn story.”
Wooyoung holds onto his granola bar with two hands, eyes closing as he terribly sings, “Just the two of us… We can make it if we try, just the two of us…”
“Listen to me, Wooyoung. I’m being serious.”
It seems to lock him back in, Wooyoung meeting San’s eye, his back straightening a little. San’s lips perk upward, his groin opening an eye at the easy display of submission– not the time.
“Okay, fine. But I do think you’re a little insane and grasping for straws.”
San smacks his teeth, “I’ll prove it to you, then.”
“Yeah?” Wooyoung cracks a smile, “How are you gonna do that? That night in the studio set us back, like, five years.”
“You don’t know her like I know her,” San sits back in the computer chair again, smirk crawling its way onto his cheeks, his arms crossing over his chest.
Wooyoung scowls, “Are you flexing on me right now?”
“No!” San shakes his head, “I’m just saying, I think I could get her to crack if she does want us back.”
“And why would you do it any better than I could?” Wooyoung’s voice is sharper, “I wanted her to begin with, you know.”
“And I was fucking her before you ever laid eyes on her,” San responds in the same tone, “don’t get cocky with me, not when it comes to this.”
Wooyoung’s brows raise, back arching ever so slightly at the tone of San’s voice. There’s amusement playing in his words as he says, “Wow, never thought I’d see the day you get possessive.”
“With you, there’s no reason to, it’s not a competition,” San shrugs, “besides right now. You struck a nerve.”
Wooyoung smiles, hopping down from the desk to place a fat kiss on San’s lips, “You love me.”
San’s dimples are on display in a smile as he lifts his arms to grab Wooyoung by his cheeks, leaning up off the chair to kiss the younger man again, “That I do.”
“You’re really gonna try?” Wooyoung asks again, leaning against the counter, his legs crossed between San’s as he takes another bite of his granola bar. “Even after my studio debacle with her?”
San nods, “I’m optimistic about it, I know, but I really do think I’m right.”
San learned to enjoy cooking before he learned to enjoy being in the gym. Him and his mother in the kitchen, teaching him recipes she’s carried through her years learned from her own mother, to recipes he’s learned from cookbooks and the internet that fall within the strict guidelines of his diet.
It turned from sustainability to passion— cooking became a love language before he knew it, and the main reason is because he’s always loved cooking for you most. More so since the two of you moved in together, even more so when Wooyoung moved in, too. Cooking for the three of you, to eat at the kitchen table, on the couch, even if he was dropping off plates to you in your bedrooms… San loved it. Adored it.
For you to enjoy something he made for you warmed his blood until it sizzled with affection, to know he was making a good, hearty, healthy meal to nourish you, he never thought cooking, of all things, would make him realize how deeply he’s in love.
It’s a constant reminder every time his bare feet touch the tiled floor of the kitchen that he loves you, that he loves Wooyoung. Tonight it feels stronger, but maybe that’s the two glasses of wine and his pink cheeks talking. The way you’re dancing about the kitchen, twirling in nothing but a big tee, singing along to the song playing from the speaker you keep in the kitchen— the confession is laying right below his skin, on the tip of his tongue, begging to be set free. After his realization, a bubble of hope so big you could pop it with a fingernail, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep it in.
You’re laughing at something he said, his tipsy mind doesn’t even know what it was, but your laugh is so loud and so involuntary it squeezes the life out of his lungs. He wants to pick you up and put you on the counter, his hands on your perfect thighs as your ankles hook around his back, he wants to kiss you. He wants to feel you laugh into his mouth. He misses you.
“I don’t want to talk about me at eighteen,” you shake your head, still giggling. Your hair is in a bun atop your head, messy, pieces hanging out like you tied it without looking in the mirror. Barefaced, no pants, no bra, this is his favorite version of you, the one that doesn’t care, the one that’s perfectly comfortable being in your own skin.
“Why not? I loved you at eighteen, too,” San turns back around before his cock begins stirring in his pants— he stirs the pot on the stove, instead.
You come up behind him, on your tippy toes to place your chin on his shoulder. Still smiling, teeth stained with a faint, deep red, “Yeah? You loved me, huh?”
San knows it’s the wine talking, you’d never be so bold otherwise. He doesn’t even think you’re being serious. But, being himself, his brows dance above his eyes as he says, “Of course I did, I still love you.”
You roll your eyes, smile faltering for just a second before it returns with vengeance, “I thought you meant you loved me, you goof.”
Should he just say it? Should he? His back straightens a little. Uneasy, voice a little shaky, he tries, “I did, I had a– a huge crush on you when we were eighteen.”
Your eyes blow wide, spinning around next to him to press your back up against the counter, palms folding around the edge. Surprised, but a little disbelieving, your jaw drops, “No way.”
“I’m serious!” I still have it to this day. “When you dated that one guy— fuck, what was his name?”
“Mark.”
“Mark, that’s it. When you dated him senior year, I was so mad, I can remember being at graduation and being so fucking jealous that you were kissing him for pictures.”
You gasped out a laugh, mortified, shocked, stomach dropping with what you could have had, “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What was I supposed to say?” San steps to the side, half of his body taking up all of yours. He pretends like he doesn’t notice how small you are beneath his body. “‘Hey Shy, I know we’ve known each other all our lives, but in the past few years I’ve actually formed a gigantic huge crush on you. Sorry if it ruins the friendship.’”
“Exactly that, yes,” you’re laughing again, nodding, head tilting to the side as you look up at him with those fucking eyes. He loves them, so big and full of knowledge, experience, maturity and grace that is only expressed in the most you way. In a quieter voice, like you’re afraid to say it, you mumble, “I guess that explains college then, huh?”
There’s a pit in his stomach, one full of gasoline, and you just dropped a lit match down his throat without even realizing it.
“There’s a lot that could explain college,” San smirks, one dimple arriving at the scene, moving so he’s fully standing in front of you, caging you in between himself and the counter. He presses his hands into the ledge, voice teasing, light and airy, “Like how we wanted each other, and were using a third person as an excuse?”
Your smile falters, eyes widening. You swallow, San watches as your throat bobs, breath turning shallow, chest rising and falling beneath your tee. He can’t help the way his smirk grows, liquid confidence and too much optimism making his arm raise to brush a thumb over your cheek, reveling in how you twitch under his touch, eyelids fluttering. He remembers this body like it was his own, how you react to him, what gets your panties wet, what makes your toes fucking curl. He wants to show you how much he remembers you.
“Are you guys talking about college again?”
You gasp loudly, jumping, body slithering out of San’s clutch and into the open floorplan of the kitchen, all in a few quick, panic-driven movements. With a hand clutched over your heart, you’re out of breath, “Fuck, Woo, you scared me.”
“I could feel the jealousy simmering in my bones, I knew you had to be talking about college,” he’s leaning against the archway, playful smirk on his lips, golden skin gleaming beneath the warm light of the kitchen. Shirtless, body on display, an ankle crossed over the other with a pair of baggy basketball shorts on… fuck Wooyoung for interrupting him, but fuck, San might actually get hard with the both of you half-dressed.
You roll your eyes, taking two steps before you press your back against the other side of the counter, using your palms to lift you up over the edge. Exactly how San wants you, how he imagined you, his breath catches in his throat. He turns back around instead of dwelling on it.
“Shut up, Woo,” he hears you mumble, “those days have long ended. Should’ve met us earlier.”
Wooyoung whines, uncurling his arms from his chest to walk further into the kitchen, stopping in front of you with his palms pressed to your knees, “What, you don’t miss it, Shybaby? Not even a little?”
San turns the knob on the stove until the flame lowers to a small flicker, stirring the roux in the pot. He turns his head halfway, side-eyeing Wooyoung whose back is slightly arched as he stares up into you, hands now planted against the edge of the counter on either side of your thighs, so confident, not a shred of insecurity in him. San wonders how he’s managed a complete one-eighty from the night he woke him up to freak out. Maybe he’s really making this a competition.
You stiffen, eyes widening. Tipsy, but not drunk enough to admit something like that. A nervous laugh stutters from your lips, “I— What? Like I said, that ship has sailed. Those days are over. The baton has been passed to you, Woo.”
You use one hand on Wooyoung’s bare shoulder and the other pressed to the countertop to haul yourself off of it, landing swiftly on bare feet. Scrambling out of the kitchen towards the living room, you call over your shoulder, “Let me know when dinner’s ready, I’m gonna lay down, the wine went straight to my head, I think.”
Wooyoung waits a moment before he turns to stare at San, eyebrows flat. San tightens his lips, an insult in his eyes, whispering, “Why did you interrupt?”
Wooyoung crosses the kitchen, his voice a sharp whisper, “I thought you already did it. Do you know how it looked from over there?”
Leaving the roux, he leans up against the counter, arms crossing, “We would have been making out by now if you didn’t interrupt.”
“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung whines, “it’s fine, just try again.”
San covers his face with his hands, “You know what?” His hands lay on his boyfriend’s shoulders, “What I just did will hit its mark, maybe if you try next, we can get the point across without having to actually say it. Then she will come to us.”
“If I try then she won’t have to come to us,” a cocky grin spreads across the younger man’s face, “it’ll be game-point. You’ll come home to find us fucking.”
San’s lips thin, but he doesn’t respond. At this point he doesn’t care how it happens, as long as it happens.
You thought the wine had left your system hours ago, after the meal Sannie made you, especially after a movie on the couch. The wine is the only explanation for your insides feeling warm and gooey— not the fact that across the hall, you could hear the squeaking of the mattress, the bedframe hitting the wall repeatedly, strangled moans leaving two men’s lips that you could tell they were trying to keep inside.
Sweetie slept on his bed on your floor, head buried in the gray plush, waking up every few minutes or so from an especially loud moan or a shrill bang of wood against wall. Even your fucking dog was losing sleep.
You’ve never heard them before, not once. Not once. Why tonight, after having both of their hands on you, their eyes staring into you, after the question Wooyoung asked? Do you miss it? The fear that zapped up on your spine was so intense you needed to lay down and close your fucking eyes.
Confusing as much as it was scary, Wooyoung speaks of jealousy, but asks you if you miss fucking his boyfriend? Was it a kink to them? Is that why they’re fucking now?
They get off on other people wanting them… Wanting each other… That had to be it. The jealousy aspect, of reclaiming one another, and they used you to do it of all people?! It’s worse than mean, it’s worse than rude, it’s cruel. Cruel to dangle their relationship in front of your face after flirting with you— even if flirting with you is all they’ve ever done.
You can remember meeting Wooyoung for the first time, sitting with him in a smoke circle, laughing your heart out when only three or four words had left his mouth. You ended up in tears, cheeks aching, lungs empty and dry, by the time everyone up and left and it was only the two of you left, he’d come onto you. Your first time meeting, even if he said he took notice of you far earlier, around that same smoke circle.
You can’t remember why you’d said no, how you rejected him. You had a feeling, maybe, that your relationship with him would grow far deeper than one night spent together in a cloud of hazy lust. Still to this day you remember that ache, laughing so hard you nearly gagged, eyes locked in on him, waiting for the next hilarious thing to leave his lips. It became routine, the next time you saw him out, the time Sannie introduced you to him when you already knew each other, when your name fell from his lips for the first time, Wooyoung has always, always looked at you with a certain look in his eye— like he was waiting for the smile to kiss your cheeks, for the laugh to fall from your lips.
You don’t remember exactly when your duo with San had turned to three. Wooyoung only moved in two years ago, but you’ve been close for years now, since that night around the smoke circle, passing three joints amongst nine people.
Maybe you were meant to become friends with him so he could end up with San, so the two of them could knock their headboard against your fucking wall and remind you that you’d never be on the inside.
It felt sour.
Yet for some reason, the hurt laying low in your tummy swam with the heat, the desire, curling into a pit of fire-hot pressure you couldn’t ignore. You’d already pushed the sheets off your body, already tugged your shirt up, desperate for air. You tried a pillow over your head, squeezing cotton against your ears. You went on your phone, scrolled Twitter, watched a few TikToks, tried your favorite ASMRtist.
Laying low in the background was them. Endless. San’s low grunts, Wooyoung’s pitched whines, they poured through the thin wall separating your rooms, surrounding you like wildfire. They were everywhere, in the air, on your skin, in your sheets, but the ache curled low, settling into nothingness because you could hear the pleasure but were feeling none of it.
You gasped as you heard it— one singular line gritted through San’s teeth, “Yeah? Gonna be good for me?”
You bent your knees up, head tipping back into the sheets, eyes squeezing shut. Your fingertips tapped against the bed, pushing a heavy sigh through pursed lips. That voice, his tone, the actions that accompany it, your memories are your personal hell. You could see them, Sannie bending Wooyoung in half, a foot planted on the bed as he drilled into him.
Then Wooyoung whimpered, “Yes, please. So good for you— I’ll be good, please, fuck me Sannie—”
Your lips parted, a shaky breath slipping through. Your body was steaming, ears straining to listen to every last fucking detail even if you didn’t want to hear any of it. Even if it hurt, you needed it like water, like air, so badly you wanted to get up out of bed and walk in there.
“That’s it,” San grunted, you could see the sweat beading between his pecs, “stay down, don’t fucking move.”
You bit your lip as your hands traveled to your thighs. Nails scraping against your skin, your nipples pebbled against the open air of your room, shame and embarrassment twisting with the rest of everything curling in your gut. Arousal, jealousy, rage, nostalgia, shame, hurt— you needed your panties off. It felt unethical, you should put on headphones, you should leave, you should do anything but dip two fingers into your panties.
You moaned as your fingers made contact with your clit. Immediately you clamped a hand over your mouth, back arching into your own touch, ignoring the flame of shame completely as your eyes fluttered closed. You eased yourself into the pleasure, breath picking up as Wooyoung’s moans grew louder, the smack of San’s hips landing harder.
Your other hand sank down to toy with a nipple while your fingers circled your clit in tight, rhythmic movements, eyelids twitching as their pleasure became your own. Timing your movements with theirs, lips parting when a moan sank through drywall, you let your mind drift, placing yourself in the fantasy.
Laying up against Sannie’s chest, Wooyoung between your thighs. On top of Wooyoung, hips circling his as Sannie pushed up against your back, hands on your chest, one sinking down to rub circles on your clit. Sitting on Sannie’s lap just like Wooyoung had the night you caught him, chests pressed together, hands in hair, hips mindlessly rutting together, Wooyoung on your back as if you really were between them that night.
The movie played in color in your mind, so vivid, like it was happening— with noise melting walls, it felt real. Lost in the pleasure, in the fantasy, you didn’t realize their volume had lowered, that their movements slowed.
“Sannie, stop, stop,” Wooyoung splayed a hand behind him, head perked up, face still twisted in pleasure, but his lips stayed parted like he couldn’t believe his ears.
“What?” Concerned, San had two palms on Wooyoung’s hips, pausing immediately, “Are you okay? What's wrong?”
“Listen,” Wooyoung whispered, like if he spoke too loud, you’d hear him. That you’d stop.
San’s brows furrowed, lips parting to question, but then he heard it. Small, faint whimpers, and then a moan— a genuine, raw, unbridled fucking moan, yours. He recognized it, he knows it, he’s forced it out of your lips, his hips grind into Wooyoung’s warmth out of instinct.
Wooyoung’s head dropped, arm bending until his elbow hit the mattress, a low moan spilling from his lips as his arm slipped between his thighs, tugging on his length. His voice comes out low, ragged, “I can’t believe this.”
“Fuck,” San cursed low, long, hips picking up again, slow but steady, quiet enough to hear your sounds float through the wall. “She– I–, Woo.”
“Yes,” Wooyoung whispered, moaned, hips fucking back onto San’s length in a nasty, slow grind, “wish she was in here, sh- it, want her hands on me.”
San’s fingertips squeezed into the plush of Wooyoung’s ass, face scrunching together in pleasure, a silent moan leaving his slacked jaw. The shock, the debrief would have to come later.
“You— you wanna fuck her while I fuck you? Hm?”
Wooyoung arched deeper, fisting his length faster, picking up speed all over again, drowning out your noise. San wasn’t faring much better, hips stuttering into Wooyoung, one hand sliding up to claw fingers into his boyfriend’s back.
San’s eyes stayed locked onto where the two met, watching how Wooyoung’s ass rippled with each harsh thrust of his cock, the end approaching too fucking fast.
A few more thrusts until he was hunched over, drooling onto Wooyoung’s back as he filled him up, Wooyoung’s release spilling all over the comforter beneath them. They didn’t even get as far as undoing the sheets.
Dinner, a few glasses of wine, a movie with too much touching, Wooyoung was already dirty talking San before they opened up the bedroom door. Cocky smirk on his pretty lips, head tilted, eyes sparkling, teasing him about you— oh, he was begging to get fucked. San’s been overly careful of your presence for awhile now, never too loud, keeping Wooyoung’s mouth on a tight leash when you’re home.
But Wooyoung pushed each and every button tonight, all concerning you. How he’d fuck you better, how you’d crack when he tried, how he’d treat you better than San, San put one hand around his throat and the rest unfolded in a mess of teeth, tongue and lube. To hear you through the wall, getting off to them, was the cherry on top. They needed to do something, now.
San ripped the comforter off the bed and crawled beneath the sheet, not caring if Wooyoung spilled into them as he settled over San’s chest, their breath still heavy, hearts still pounding.
“You seriously think she was getting off to us?” San asked Wooyoung, brows raised in innocence, in fear of what he thought to be true, being false. He kept his voice low, a small whisper.
Wooyoung, fully out of breath, chest still heaving and soaked in sweat, laughed. A hearty chuckle, he ran a hand through his hair, smile lingering, “Yes, baby. Bet she’s in there nervous as hell that we heard her.”
You sat up in your bed, chest heaving, eyes wide, right hand still shaky. Fuck. There’s no way they heard you, right? Too wrapped up in each other, they were loud, there’s no way they heard you over the sound of themselves. You looked over to Sweetie in panic, only easing when you saw his head still tucked into his half-torn bed, eyes closed, breathing even.
If Sweetie wasn’t bothered, then they definitely didn’t hear you.
You lay flat against your bed, mind whirling, so fucking confused because that was so hot but it wasn’t right. Masturbating to the sound of your two roommates, two best friends who were in a relationship fucking, it wasn’t morally correct, that you knew before your fingers slipped into your panties. Post-nut clarity seeping in, you’re met with regret, guilt, and the urge to give up.
Reminding yourself was painful– they don’t want you, they want each other. There’s no room for you in their relationship.
Maybe you’ll go with them to that fuckass bar tomorrow. Maybe Yunho will be there. Nothing could be worse than living with this.
San and Wooyoung had enough.
The morning after the multi-room sex debacle, you pretended like nothing happened. They supposed that to you, nothing did happen, you had no idea they heard you, and they weren’t going to say anything, either. You’d die of embarrassment if they brought it up, and they’ve come to the conclusion that it wouldn't be the best start of a blooming relationship. They at least thought you would question it, question them. But you didn’t.
Their patience was running thin.
The bar was loud, pop music floating through the space, a newer bar with an industrial look to it that left everything open. The ceilings showed the pipes, the walls looked to be something like steel, the decor had a very factory-mechanical vibe to it that they couldn’t quite explain– but the drinks were cheap and the music was good. With all of your friends here, they didn’t care much, anyhow, their main focus was that you wanted to be here, you wanted to blow off steam, let loose and let go after a hectic week.
They wondered how much of that excuse had to do with them.
You stood at the bar, one foot propped up on the exposed pipe lying at the base, tapping Wooyoung’s credit card against the bar. San leaned into him, their shoulders touching, both of their eyes locked in on you, watching like they always did. God forbid they took their eyes off of you.
“You guys are gonna go cross-eyed if you keep staring,” Seonghwa muttered from across the circular table, settled in the booth beside his boyfriend, Hongjoong.
“How could we not stare?” Wooyoung was quick to answer. “Have you seen her?”
“I thought you guys were together now,” Hongjoong’s brows furrowed, eyes bouncing between Wooyoung and San, fingers tapping against his glass, his draft beer halfway gone by now.
“We are,” San shrugged, “just trying to get her with us, too.”
Wooyoung snorted, “That’s one way to put it.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Jongho interrupted, leaning forward between Mingi and Yeosang, separating the couple. “You’re trying to be in… what, a throuple?”
“Yeah,” San and Wooyoung answered at the same time, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Actually, I’m not even going to question it,” Yeosang shook his head, bringing the straw in his fruity cocktail up to his lips. “San’s always had a thing for her.”
Mingi leans forward, a smile on his pink lips, agreeing with his boyfriend immediately, “Right? I thought you guys would end up together, or really, I kinda thought you were secretly together this whole time.”
San’s cheeks, already pink, must have turned four shades darker. He didn’t have time to answer though, Hongjoong cutting in immediately, “Sounds messy. Does she know you want her?”
Wooyoung’s lips tighten as he shakes his head, “Don’t know, maybe.”
“Didn’t she just go on a date with Yunho?” Jongho asks, one of his brows popped.
San sighs, “That was before we knew she was interested in us, if she is.”
“She is interested in you?” Mingi looks completely confused.
“See?” Hongjoong shakes his head. “Messy.”
Wooyoung nudges San with his elbow, speak of the fucking devil, grabbing his boyfriend’s attention to watch Yunho approaching you at the bar, a pitstop on his way back from the bathroom. Immediately there’s a fire in his gut, jealousy spreading like wildfire to each nerve ending in his body, it doesn’t help that Yunho looks hot tonight. Baggy cargos on his legs, tight tee on his torso, oversized button down hanging loose off his shoulders, fuck him. Why is he approaching you like the two of you are friendly or something?
Last they heard, you didn’t want him, you wanted them. So why is Yunho talking to you like he’s hitting on you? Why is your hand on his forearm? What could he possibly be saying that makes your head tip back in laughter? Yunho isn’t even that funny.
There’s discomfort lining San’s eyebrows as he watches you lean into Yunho, seeming almost instinctive. He knows that look in your eye, the exact grin on your cheeks, what you’re insinuating even if he can’t hear a word falling from your glossy lips. He takes a slow breath, calming his heart rate before his mind warps what he sees into something completely different.
Yunho’s his friend. If his hypothesis is correct, he knows how you feel about them, how they feel about you, wait– did they even tell Yunho how they feel about you? San’s eyes widen in panic as he turns to Wooyoung who already looks like he’s settled in his decision, jealousy in the hinge of his clenched jaw, his fingers mindlessly swirling the straw in his drink.
San thinks they’re speaking around him, he can’t hear, he chooses not to listen. He watches as you lean forward, whispering something in Yunho’s ear. His chest feels heavy as Yunho looks down at the floor like he’s hiding flushed cheeks, an easy smile on his lips, body leaning closer to you as if San and Wooyoung weren’t sitting ten feet away.
They’ve had enough.
You were already smiling as Yunho approached you, having watched him make the few last steps to where you stood. “Hey stranger.”
“Hey,” he leans against the bar, “getting another drink?”
You flashed Wooyoung’s black card, a smirk on your cheeks, “Getting as many as I can stomach tonight.”
Yunho smacks his teeth, “Rough week?”
“You have no idea,” you say through an exhausted breath, “and you? Drinking tonight? I’m sure Woo won’t notice if I add another beer to his tab.”
Yunho’s eyes dance from the table back to you, “Oh, he’ll notice.”
“Trust me,” your lips scrunch together, disappointment on your face, “he won’t. He’s too focused on San.”
“They’re together?” Yunho lifts a brow, “like, together together?”
“Mhm,” you nod, tongue poking your cheek. “New development in the saga, I guess. Not a good one.”
“I’m sorry,” Yunho frowns, “I did not expect that.”
You’re still nodding until a sigh is pulled from your lungs, “It does leave me single, though, like super single…” Your eyes flicker up to him, blinking through heavy lashes.
Yunho snorts, “Yeah? Were you not super single before?”
You laugh, a breathy little thing, leaning closer to him, a hand mindlessly landing on his forearm. “I was, but there was hope before. Now there’s nothing, like super confirmed, nothing.”
“Super,” Yunho nods, laughter still playing on his lips like he was fighting it back. It leaves you both giggling like kids, a hand covering your mouth as your head tips back.
He looks pretty tonight, you realize. Undone, casual, like he didn’t put in too much effort. Baggy clothes on his body, hair a little disheveled, he looked comfortable. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol in your system or the last bit of sanity you were clinging on to, but he looked… Different. Good, really good.
“Are you still super single?” The question slips from your lips before you can think about it.
Yunho’s brows raise, surprised, they quirk immediately after, confused. His eyes fly to the table, landing there for a moment before sliding back to you, “Oh,” he blinks, “oh. Yes, yeah, I’m still single.”
“Good,” you nod, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling the heat you were so desperately missing the night you went out on your date. You needed something, a good fuck, a drunk hookup, something to distract you from how fucking miserable you felt. Hopeless was the better word, after coming to the sound of them fucking you’d never felt more pathetic in your life, you needed change, something, anything.
“Do… you have plans after this?” Yunho’s face looked innocent, of all things. Like he wasn’t sure if he should be asking the question, the implication behind it, even though he seemed to see straight through you, what you needed.
The smirk that crawled onto your cheeks was anything but innocent. “Nope, completely free.”
“Good,” Yunho nodded, his smile a little more confident now. “Fuck the black card, let me buy you a drink.”
Your brows raised, a laugh falling past your lips as both your hands shoot up in defense, “Be my guest. You deserve a do-over.”
“No I do not,” he says through a laugh, “but you deserve to have some fun.”
You roll your eyes, snorting a laugh, “Please, we both know that date was not good.”
Yunho’s head turns back to the table again before taking your place leaning over the bar, ignoring your comment but definitely not denying it, “I’ll get us a round of shots.”
And he did– vodka, bitter and hot, it burnt your chest the entire way down. But it went down easy with the liquor already pooling in your gut, body warm enough to begin with.
He bought you something fruity afterward, rum and juice, it tasted like candy— easy to sip on, easy to chug if need be. You stuck around the bar instead of heading back to the table, eyeing the dance floor on the other side of the bar, in easy conversation with Yunho who seemed like he had no intentions of heading back to the table, either.
“Do you want to dance?” His eyes flicker to you, brows raised like he couldn’t quite gauge whether or not you’d say yes.
“You know I teach dance for a living, right?” Your lips quirk on one side, “Of course I want to dance.”
“I can’t say I’m a great dancer,” Yunho admits, lips tightened in a line. “I sell art, there’s nothing fluid about walking around a gallery all day.”
You laugh, grabbing him by the wrist, tugging him towards the music that gets louder with each step. “Follow my lead,” you say simply, mind finally feeling fucking free, “I’ll give you a free lesson.”
He trails behind you with a silly smile until you enter the crowd of people, it was busy over here, you realized. The bar wasn’t too crowded, the other side of the building consisted of booths and tables for those who… didn’t want to have a good time, you guessed. Talking, catching up, the first awkward half of a date, maybe.
You loved bars that had dance floors. Clubs, weddings, anywhere that there was a space dedicated to people letting loose, allowing their bodies to move as they pleased, to feel music in their blood. It was your favorite, even if you danced for a living, this was different– no choreography, no rules, there was nothing in your mind to keep you structured. You could let yourself feel, move the way your body allowed, you didn’t have to worry what anyone else thought.
With liquor in your system, that freedom is amplified by a thousand. Dancing before Yunho, you quickly realize he lied about having two left feet, his smile is just as careless as yours as his body moves to the beat of the song, matching your rhythm perfectly. Hips swaying in tandem, arms flowing in the space around you, you’re giggling before you know it, a smile branded onto your cheeks.
Until you turn your head and see that Wooyoung and San have joined you.
San’s arms over Wooyoung’s shoulders, they danced close, hips touching, swaying together as one. They were smiling at you– or pretending to be, the first thing you noticed was how their grins didn’t reach their ears. An alarm bell sounds in your head, confused, concerned, you want to ask what’s wrong, your body stops moving as the thoughts pile in.
Wooyoung, unaffected by your lack of movement, wiggles free from San’s grip. “Let’s switch!” He’s smiling, yelling over the music, “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
Your brows furrow as Wooyoung shimmies between you and Yunho, his arms gliding swiftly over Yunho’s shoulders shamelessly, dark hair glowing under the pink, neon light, shaking with each sway of his body.
You turn your head to San who seems like he’s taking a moment to process, then he pulls you into him by your wrist, other hand landing on your hip, your back to his chest. You start moving out of instinct, hips swaying, but your brows stay furrowed.
Turning your head halfway, you ask, “What’s going on?”
San presses his lips into your cheek, dimples out to play with the smile he gives you. This one seems more real, it eases the panic in your chest ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I–” Your head turns back to Wooyoung, who has his cheek pressed to Yunho’s, saying something into his ear. “Are you guys okay?”
“Of course,” San’s palms hug your hips, pulling you flush to him, the feeling of him behind you sends heat up your spine. Immediately you’re brought back to the other night, the sounds leaving his lips, the mental picture you came up with, your hand between your legs. With his voice dripped in honey, he asks, “Are you okay, Shygirl?”
You’re nodding, body sinking into him, heat pulsing through your core, up your spine. His body feels so strong behind you, muscular arms on your hips, rocking you so sensually it throws your head for a spin. This movement brings back memories, ones that haunt you, ones you miss so fucking much.
You nod weakly, your voice a small squeak, “Yup, ‘m fine.”
He chuckles, cheeks pink, burying his head into your neck. You’re so close you could be considered one, it’s too close, it’s disrespectful, but you can’t bring yourself to let go. Yunho is right in front of you, expecting a night with you, he knows how you feel about San, about Wooyoung, and here you are falling into a haze, repeating old mistakes.
A third hand to one side of your waist, a fourth to the other. When you look up, Yunho is gone. Wooyoung stands before you with a cocky, lopsided smile on his lips, hips pressing into your front, falling into rhythm with you and San easily. He looks so pretty with pink cast onto his face, so bronzy even under neon light, his dark clothes sinking into the shadows.
“Where’s Yunho?” You ask, hands finding Wooyoung’s shoulders like it was instinct.
He takes the opportunity to come closer, the three of you molding together, the smell of both of them in your nose, the strength of them boxing you in. It feels so fucking good, it feels wrong, you don’t want them to let go, you want to stay here, dancing with them all night.
“Bathroom,” Wooyoung shrugs, thumbs caressing your sides. “Who cares?”
“Woo,” you whine, making a show of pouting, but it isn’t real. You don’t care.
“What?” His grin spreads wider, voice light and playful like he was proving his innocence, “The only thing that matters is you and us, right here. Nothing else.”
You couldn’t argue with him, not that you ever do. There’s nothing left inside you to make a rebuttal, anyway, there’s so you curl your fingers into the nape of his neck, spread your legs to allow one of theirs to slot through, and sway your hips like you were born to do it. Head falling back onto San’s shoulder, a lazy grin makes its way to your cheeks as you move with them, staring at Wooyoung over your nose, he looks at you like he’d do anything to drink you in.
He’s always looked at you this way, but there was something different about the longing glint in his eye, how his tongue slowly swipes over his lips like he’s hungry. Maybe it was knowing your own feelings playing a part, if it was anyone else you’d think they wanted to fuck you, but it’s Wooyoung. You can feel San at your back, the dirty grind of his hips against your ass, it’s been so long since you’ve been with them like this– dancing, liquor involved, too close for comfort, questioning if your relationship was as platonic as you thought it was.
Years. You haven’t touched San in years. You think back to Wooyoung asking if you missed it– you know you do, you miss it so fucking much, but was there a chance that Wooyoung wanted you to miss it? That he wanted to repeat history, this time with him involved, like all the times you’ve dreamt about? You almost groan, head tipping forward, heat spreading through your body at the thought of them wanting you like you want them.
“What are you thinking about, baby?” Wooyoung asks, his voice low, loud enough for you to hear. His face is so close you could feel his breath on your face; minty, like he was drinking a mojito, or took a shot of Rumplemintz. His smile is feline, eyes knowing as if your skull was transparent, like he just wanted to hear the words from your lips.
“I,” you take a breath, the admission sits on your tongue. “I’m not thinking.”
You can’t do it. To make yourself so vulnerable, so susceptible to rejection, you couldn’t do it.
Wooyoung leans in, soft, warm cheek pressed to yours, lips ghosting your ear, “You’re lying.”
San is on your other side, keeping himself close, his nose dancing along the shell of your ear, making you shiver. He keeps his voice just as low, sounding like an aphrodisiac, “Tell us, baby, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?”
Your heartbeat quickens, pressure below your skin, they’re too close, boxing you in, there’s a pit in your core like an itch you can’t fucking scratch and they’re dangling relief in front of your eyes, out of reach. Your jaw clenches, words fighting to push through, your fingers tangle into Wooyoung’s hair at the nape of his neck, nails grazing against skin– he hisses into your ear, fingers tightening around your waist like it’s all he could do to stop himself from pressing into you.
“Fuck, Woo,” you mutter under your breath, marvelling at the sound, how it makes your stomach do a flip. The floor feels charged, tension spreading from your ankles to your spine, your words spill out before you can think twice about them, “did you like that?”
You can feel electricity prickling your scalp at your own question, but he answers it with a quick-spreading smirk brushing over your ear, “Is it okay if I did?” Your eyes widen as he pulls away from you, keeping your faces so close your noses are almost touching. His eyes stay locked on yours and you can see the desperation changing the shape of his face. He asks again, “What if I asked you to do it again?”
It’s so wrong. They’re together, they’re a couple, there’s no fucking room for you. But what if there’s a chance that there is?
Yet your fingers tighten in his hair, gripping at his roots harder than before and his head falls back, strong jaw on display, the curvature of his nose, jugular beckoning your lips forward. The music disappears as a tight sound leaves his lips, the rest of the bar fades away as his hips buck into yours, you’re left in awe, dumbfounded, the heat in your core unbearable.
“He likes it a little rough,” San whispers into your ear, voice rough, edged with dominance. His teeth dragging over your earlobe, tongue following, “You’re gonna make him hard, baby.”
“S-shit,” you manage to get out, body twitching, sinking into San behind you whose hands slide under the hem of your top at your hips, palms hot and callused against your skin. Involuntarily your hips push forward, into Wooyoung, your mind so fuzzy and confused but you’re so fucking horny all you can ask is, “What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Wooyoung asks, voice playful again, his hand slides up to cup your cheek, thumb sliding over your skin, searing the trail he leaves behind. “You’re smart, use that big brain.”
“Kiss him,” San whispers in your ear, then plants a kiss right below it, using his tongue to seal the spot. You shiver, a whimper leaving your lips, brows tying together. You’re confused, you don’t have time to be, you don’t want to question it anymore.
You want to kiss him, you’ve never kissed Wooyoung once in your life. You’ve longed to know what he tastes like, how he uses his pretty lips, if his tongue can do all the things you’ve imagined it to. Your eyes drop down as he wets his lips again, so glossy and inviting, you bite your lip as his curve into another smile.
“You want to,” San’s lips drop to your neck, talking against your skin, “I know you want to, don’t deprive yourself, baby.”
You do want to, it’s a dream, your biggest fantasy coming to life. Your hands slide from the nape of Wooyoung’s cheek to cradle his jaw, Wooyoung’s flared eyes give you the green light, you blink once, twice, ignoring everything in your mind that tells you no as you lean in and press your lips to his. His hands cup your cheeks immediately, lips moving with yours, exploratory and relieving all at once, his tongue slips into your mouth like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it, no time to waste. San keeps his hands on your waist, groaning into your skin as he watches you, attaching his lips to your neck, kissing, sucking, licking over the marks he leaves behind.
There’s a leg between yours, you think it’s Wooyoung’s, maybe San’s, but your hips grind against it with each lick of his tongue into your mouth. It feels like heaven, or worse, mind so dazed and confused and horny but so at peace with this being everything you’ve ever imagined and more, you can’t get enough. You kiss him faster, rougher, arms wrapping around his neck, tongue searching his mouth like you need to embed the taste of him into your bones, he tastes sweet. Minty like this breath, a bitter note of alcohol on his tongue, your hands fall from his cheeks to his chest, sliding down to the hem of his shirt to tuck your hands beneath it.
Oh, he’s warm, his body feels like it looks, harsh and unforgiving, delicious. Like he could throw you around if he wanted to, you hope he wants to, unless it’s San who does the throwing– San.
San.
You break away from Wooyoung with low lidded eyes and he’s staring at you like you hung the stars in the fucking sky. Eyes glossy, lips swollen, you pull away and immediately he’s following, searching for more.
You turn your head and San’s already waiting for it, palm splaying over your cheek to pull you into him hastily, lips molding against yours like nostalgia was a sentiment created by the two of you. Like coming home, his tongue slots between your lips, teeth clamping over your bottom lip, tugging on it, you whine into his mouth, back arching into his chest. You needed more.
“Do you want us?” He asks into your mouth, breathless. You nod, and he clicks his tongue, “Words, Shy. Tell me you want it.”
“I want it, I’ve wanted it for so long,” you’re quick to admit, breathless yourself, voice raw, honest. “So, so fucking long, Sannie.”
Wooyoung grabs your face by your cheeks, stealing your attention, forcing you to face him so he can explore your mouth again, San breaking away from your back. You barely notice the loss of heat, melting into Wooyoung, chest pressed into his, hands in his hair, meeting his intentions with your own. He breaks away to peck you once, out of breath, pupils dilated, “We’ve wanted you for even longer.”
Your breath stutters, weak in the knees, you can’t process his words, you’d put it on a checklist for later. Voice cracking, wrecked before you’d even begun, you muttered, “Let’s go home.”
You felt bad for the driver with the way you sat on San’s lap the whole drive home, switching between him and Wooyoung like you were trying to figure out who was the better kisser. Truth was, you just couldn’t get enough of them, San’s kiss was a part of your being, his touch was instilled in you, familiar to the point of not wanting to ever let go. Wooyoung was new, fresh, but an itch to a scratch, a relief you’ve ached for far too long, he was addicting, like you couldn’t stop if you tried.
Sweetie is jumping at you when you walk through the threshold and the three of you bend down to pet him like you’ve never seen a dog before, like they weren’t just ready to strip you in the backseat of a minivan. Liquor still coursing through you, you’re all talking in high pitched voices, making his tail wag, he couldn’t choose which of you to give his attention to. After treats you’re in your room, tying your hair up, and naturally, the two men follow you.
San makes himself at home on your bed, still in his jeans, jacket still thrown over his shoulders, he leans back on his elbows, eyeing you over the tip of his nose as you meander about your bedroom, maybe stalling, maybe thinking. Maybe you just made all of that up. Maybe you didn't even kiss in the club and you should be diagnosed with schizophrenia.
“Shy.”
Wooyoung stands in the doorway, arms crossed, smirking.
You look between them, jacket halfway off, heart picking up speed all over again, “What?”
“Oh my god, I love you,” Wooyoung’s smiling as he unfolds his arms, crossing the room, meeting you at your back. He pulls the jacket from your shoulders carefully, pressing his lips to your temple, “We want you, baby.”
Your eyes find San’s on your bed, he sits in a cloud of arousal, still sporting the tent in his jeans. Wooyoung presses his lips to your neck, hands landing on your hips, sliding up your waist, over your chest, your breath catches in your throat, head tilting to let him explore, back leaning into his hold to let him do as he pleases.
“I know it’s been two years,” San stands from the bed, walking towards you in three long steps, slipping his fingers through the belt loops on your jeans. He tugs your hips into him, arching you off of Wooyoung, making your breath catch. The grin that spreads across his cheeks is all arrogance, “But did you really think you weren’t getting fucked the moment we walked through the door?”
Your body ignites in a way you haven’t felt in years. You whisper, “I did, I– I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to fuck you?” He presses his forehead against yours, voice soft like velvet, invading your space again with his fingers uncurling from your belt loops to play with the hem of your jeans, two fingers pinching the button of your fly.
Wooyoung moves to your ear, biting the shell of it, not soft enough to hurt, but enough to make you suck in a harsh breath. He plays with your top, sliding it upward, knuckles cold against your skin, “Do you want me to fuck you?”
You whine, sinking into Wooyoung, reaching for San’s shirt. You want them to fuck you, god, you want them both, you’ll take anything they give you. You can barely get out a small, broken, “Yes.”
Accomplishment is bright on San’s face as he unbuttons your jeans with ease, Wooyoung pulls away to flip your shirt over your head, the two moving in such quick motions you begin thinking they’ve been waiting for this, too. San helps you step out of your jeans before attaching your lips and it’s more than hungry, he’s starving with the way he tries to devour you, swallow you whole as he turns you both around, unclasping your bra as he walks you to your bed.
You fall flat against your mattress with a squeak, feeling bare before them like this, standing above you like vultures. You’ve been here before with San, it feels like seeing an old friend again; but with Wooyoung, there’s a spark of unfamiliarity, it’s been years since you’ve opened up to someone new.
“Holy shit,” Wooyoung groans, dark hair messy around his face, deepening the shadows of his structured face. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Shy.”
You burn, heat spreading through you, knees closing, “You’ve seen me before, Woo.”
He catches your knees, spreading them as San kneels onto the bed beside you, watching Wooyoung as his eyes sink between your legs. “Not like this, do you even know how fucking wet you are?”
Your hips twitch with the way he holds you open, already searching for more. Wooyoung continues, eyes glossed over, stuck at your center like it was treasure, “Fuck, baby, you’re soakin’ through your panties.”
“For you,” you breathe out, “taste it.”
His eyes snap up to yours, smile tugging at the corner of his lips, amused. “Yeah? That what you want?”
You nod, “Yes, Woo, wanna feel your mouth, wanted it for so long.”
His eyes slide to San’s with a smirk and the older man meets his stare with a short, cocky, “Told you.”
Wooyoung’s hands curl under your knees, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed before he pulls your panties down your legs, throwing them somewhere on the floor, “Didn’t tell me she was impatient.”
“I am,” you’re quick to admit, shameless and desperate, “I’ve been.”
He smiles again, lifting one leg and pressing his lips to your ankle, keeping his eyes on yours as he sinks down to his knees. Slow kisses up your calf, your inner thigh, his tongue leaves a trail, your breath hitches in your throat as he breaks away just to tug his shirt over his head by the collar.
“Nostalgic, hm?” San mumbles, close to your ear, laying down with one elbow propped up to watch, “We’ve been in this position before.”
You gasp as Wooyoung’s teeth graze your other thigh, at the sensitive part on the inside, eyes flickering up to yours to see your reaction. Through gritted teeth, one arm reaching out for San, you whisper, “Mm, missed it.”
“He’s good with his mouth, y’know,” San leans in closer, pressing his lips to your cheek then your jaw as Wooyoung finally leans forward, his nose meeting your folds before his lips make contact. A strangled moan escapes you, hips immediately bucking into him, other hand flying between your legs to take root in his hair.
As his tongue swipes through your folds your back arches, your moan exposing every feeling of relief, of how much you wanted this, needed this. His name drips off your tongue and he groans at the sound, “You sound so pretty, Shybaby.”
“Prettier when she’s louder,” you can feel San smirk into your skin, “you have no idea how shameless she can get. Suck on her clit, Woo.”
As his lips wrap around your clit your moan heightens in pitch, louder than before, fingers tugging harshly at his scalp as your hips buck into his mouth, “Holy shit, Wooyoung.”
He groans into you, fingers curling into your thighs, soothing over your clit with his tongue, “Taste so good, pussy so pretty, can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner.”
Your face grows hot as his tongue flattens over your folds, flicking at your clit with precision, no haste to his actions, he’s exploring you. Seeing what you like, what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, what makes your stomach clench in pleasure.
His nose glides over your clit and you buck into him again, his tongue circling your entrance, drinking up every ounce of your arousal. San’s fingers find your hair, “Mm, she liked that, Woo.”
“You like my nose?” His eyes flicker up to you and you nod shamelessly, humming your agreement. He repeats the movement and your back arches as he moves into a rhythm, tongue fucking into you while his nose glides over your clit, his movements timed perfectly with each jerk of your hips.
“Wanna see you ride it,” San whispers into your ear and you gasp out, one hand curling into the sheets beneath you. “Next time.”
“Yes, fuck,” you mumble through gritted teeth, “want it, need it.”
“Wanna watch you cum,” San’s fingers find your chest, the pads of them running over your hardened nipples, pinching at your sensitive skin. Louder now, your moans slurring together, your stomach curls in pleasure, pressure building in your hips.
“Don’t stop, Woo,” you whisper, a broken sound, using your fingers in his hair to rock your hips against his face, “so good, just like that.”
He grunts in response, letting you use him, adding more pressure and you’re locking up around him, whimpering as San’s fingers pinch harder at your chest, it’s enough to pull you right to the edge.
“There you go,” San encourages, lips buried in your hair, “use him, let me see you cum against his face, make yourself cum for me, c’mon.”
“Gonna–” there’s panic in your voice like you couldn’t believe you were reaching your peak so easily, but as his fingers tighten into your thighs harder, tongue lolled out for you to ride, the slight sting in your skin combined with the stimulation to your clit throws you over with a loud cry, pleasure washing over you in waves, body trembling beneath their touch, your skin on fire.
“Yes, so good for us,” San whispers, voice coated in praise, “such a good girl, Shy. Missed watching you cum, wanna feel you do it around my cock.”
You whimper, eyes cresting open to see him above you, dimples showing as he speaks. Dark hair messily sprawled across his forehead, cheeks pink, eyes soft and warm, gaze filled with so much love it makes you dizzy. Your hand lifts from Wooyoung’s hair to cradle San’s cheek, pulling him down into a messy kiss, tongue slotting into his mouth softly as Wooyoung presses soft kisses to the tip of your mound, between your hipbones, up your stomach.
Your back arches as his lips wrap around one of your nipples, tongue swiping over them, soothing where San had pinched, it makes you whimper, one hand falling from San’s cheek to dig into Wooyoung’s hair again, softer this time. Nails grazing his scalp, ankles crossing over his back, everything felt slow, filled with purpose, like each one of their movements were solely for your pleasure.
You needed more. You needed them to treat you like they’d treated each other a few nights ago, you needed the bed to hit the wall, to hear Wooyoung whimpering, San’s domineering voice. Your other hand finds San’s hair, gripping at the spiral of his crown, making him grunt into your mouth, “Shit.”
“Need more,” you’re panting into his mouth, “need you to fuck me, I need it.”
Wooyoung’s arms scoop under your back to pull you up as San leans back to groan, you meet his lips hastily, already seated on his thighs, your legs bracket his hips, your bare chest pressed to his. Denim below you, you curse at the feeling of texture, sturdy, rough fabric, “Get these off.”
“Impatient,” he smirks into your lips, “you needy? Desperate to fuck us?”
Skin alight with wildfire, your fingers find the hair at the back of his neck, tugging as you sit upward, following his face as you pull it backward by his hair, “Gonna make me say it again?”
A smile breaks out across his face, one full of excitement, “Holy shit, Shy–”
“Who are you talking to like that, huh?” San’s at your back, chest pressed to your shoulderblades, feeling so big it’s menacing, “You should be thanking him for letting you cum on his face.”
Staring down at Wooyoung, his grin had gone cocky again, one brow raising with your hands still rooted in his hair. Your fingers tighten again and his brows furrow in pleasure, a small moan croaking from his lips, it’s satisfactory enough. You mumble, “Thank you.”
San hums in contentment behind you, “Good girl.”
Wooyou watches in awe as San lifts you off his lap, turning you to face him with ease, standing on his knees he wraps a hand around your jaw, kissing you with more force than he had all night. Tongue pushing past your lips, teeth clashing, you melt beneath him, hands finding his bare pecs to hold onto as he devours your lips, your taste, your pleasure.
“You want me to treat you like a doll?” He asks into your mouth, voice harsh, edged like a blade.
“Want you to treat me how you treat Woo,” you whimper, the admission falling from your lips without a second thought, until you feel him smirk. Hazy from a minute of his mouth on yours, the heat of shame couldn’t find you.
“Knew you were listening,” Wooyoung is at your shoulders, hands on your waist, traveling to your front to grab two handfuls of your chest. “Fuckin’ pervert, listening to us fuck.”
Your back arches, fingertips digging into San’s skin, voice coming out tight, “Hard not to hear when the bed frame is hitting the wall.”
San stares at you like he’s debating fucking the cockiness out of you, “Almost forgot how much of a brat you can be.” Your grin is shameless, daring almost, and he doesn’t like it one bit. “Gonna look at me like that when I’m fucking you within an inch of your life?”
Your brows knit together, lips parting at his words, core clenching around nothing. “Please,” you whimper, hands sliding to his shoulders to pull him forward, “please.”
He doesn’t move, a stone wall before you. Instead he asks, “Did you touch yourself?” Left in the briefs glued to his lower half, your eyes sink to the outline of his length obvious in the polyester clinging to every inch of his skin. His face is lined by confidence, “Made that pretty pussy cum thinking about me fucking you, too?”
Softly, you moan, “Yes.”
“Should have come in the room,” Wooyoung’s lips find your neck, pulling you back into him as his palms knead into your chest. ”Woulda made you cum so hard.”
You whine, sinking into his hot skin, chiseled abdomen searing your back. With your knees spread, your eyes are glossy as you stare up at San who grips his length over his briefs, mouth watering with his sculpted body on display, he’s changed so much over the years. This body is bigger, bulkier, stronger, he’s a completely different San than the one you knew back then. The things he could do to you now cross your mind, sinking straight down to the pit in your belly, your core clenching around nothing.
“Wanna touch?” He asks, still sporting his cocky grin. You nod against Wooyoung’s chest, writhing beneath his palms, his touches only edging you further. He dips his chin down to his length, “C’mere, baby.”
You crawl forward on your palms until you’re standing on your knees before him, pressing your palms up to his shoulders, feeling the curves of his muscles before sliding down to his toned chest, palms laying flat, feeling his heartbeat beneath his skin. They slide down to his abdomen, so sculpted like he’s made of stone, your head tips forward, tongue lolling out of your mouth to glide across the dips and peaks, moaning at the taste of his skin, sweaty, salty, San. He pushes out a heavy breath as your head dips lower, fingers sinking into his waistband, tugging his briefs down.
“Wanna taste,” you mutter mindlessly, mind whirling, craving his cock, missing it. It springs out of his briefs, slapping up between his hipbones, thick and red and leaking, your mouth waters. You blow cool air from your lips and he hisses, cock twitching, making you smile. Your eyes flicker upward, “Want my mouth?”
His heavy brows are furrowed, hips tilted forward, his hands come forward to cup your cheeks. “Wanna fuck you, Shy.”
Your stomach fucking churns at the sound of his voice, whiny and desperate, you clench around nothing at the thought. You missed him so badly you ached for it, the feeling of him inside you, his cock so thick leaving you full enough it’s almost overwhelming to have him seated inside.
Before you have the chance to move you feel two heavy palms land on your hips, your head turns, back arching on command. Wooyoung knelt behind you, cock standing tall between his hipbones, the pretty pink tip leaking against his lower abdomen, so bronzy and veiny and strong. His eyes follow the trail of the base of your spine up to your eyes, “Let me have a turn first.”
You whimper, arching lower, knees spreading to allow him entrance, whining out a breathy, “Yes.”
San holds your cheeks steady, “Can you take it?”
You’re on fire, hips pushing back against Wooyoung with impatience, mouth filling with saliva. “Yes, yes, I can take it, use me– Please?”
A guttural moan spills from the two of them, San rips his briefs off his ankles as he sits back on his calves, one arm behind him holding up his weight. You feel Wooyoung slide two fingers up your spine, rippling over each vertebrae and then back down again, the other hand hooked on your hip squeezing as he grinds his cock against your folds, slippery and wet, he lets out a tangled whine at the feeling.
“You sure, Shy?” He asks, “Pussy’s begging to be fucked.”
“Need this,” you mumble, “need you, don’t hold back.”
“I won’t,” Wooyoung huffs, “don’t think I can, anyway.”
You turn to find San staring at you, his eyes so warm and inviting, lined with impatience he doesn’t dare verbalize. His jaw clenches as you lean down, tongue poking out to meet the leaking tip of his cock as Wooyoung lines himself up, letting his cock catch on your entrance with each slide up your folds. San’s other hand finds your hair as you lick up the underside of him, his head tipping backward as a moan tumbles out from his chest, abdomen already clenching at the pleasure.
“Fuck, that mouth,” San hisses as you let a mouthful of saliva drip onto his cock, using one hand to spread it along his length before you take the tip in your mouth fully, his grip tightens in your roots. “Missed those pretty lips, baby.”
You can’t answer, a strangled noise forcing itself out of you as the tip of Wooyoung’s cock prods your entrance. His hands find your hips, squeezing, “Breathe for me, baby.” His tone is absent, like he needed the reminder more than you did, laser-focused on how your entrance is already sucking him in.
You breathe through your nose, eyes screwing shut as he pushes in, filling you with his length inch by inch, slowly but steadily. A high whimper punches through your lips, mouth unwrapping from San’s cock to dip your head down, hips involuntarily pushing back onto Wooyoung, wanting to be full, fast.
“Patience,” Wooyoung squeezes your hips harder, more confidence in his voice, “this tight lil’ thing needs to be stretched out, take it easy, baby. We’ll give you everything, I promise.”
You haven’t felt this full in years. Even sopping wet you could feel him carving into you, making space for himself where you haven’t been properly filled in so long– the pleasure was tantalizing, slight sting of the stretch mixing into a cocktail of euphoria, your eyes fluttered back into your head, hand tightening around the base of San’s cock.
“Breathe, Shygirl,” San encourages, “let him in.”
Your eyes open, flickering up to San who watches Wooyoung over your head, your body the bridge connecting the two men. The sight of him, flushed, chest patched with a rosy hue, your tongue slides out of your mouth to lick up the underside of him again, taking the tip of him into your mouth.
His hips buck upward, surprised at your warmth wrapped around him, he pushes his cock deeper into your throat and you gag involuntarily, other hand tightening into the sheets below you. You breathe through it, your nose pushing out air as you take him deeper, head bobbing along his length as Wooyoung fully sheathes himself inside you.
He waits there a moment, fingers gripping the plush of your ass, his voice utterly gone as he says, “She’s so fuckin’ tight, Sannie.”
San’s eyes flicker up to him, “Make her cum on your cock, wanna see.”
He pulls out all the way just to slam back inside and your throat constricts around San’s length, making you gag again, eyes watering, blurring your vision. Wooyoung whines, “Fuck, baby, holy shit, Sannie.”
Hearing him moan out San’s name while he fucks you etches stars into your vision. Your hips start pushing back, your hand leaving San’s length to take purchase in the sheets as your hips buck against Wooyoung’s length in the same rhythm that you bob your head along San’s cock. Both men moan, a pitiful sound, lewd and desperate, it makes you clench around Wooyoung, nose diving down to press into the tuft of hair at the base of San’s cock.
“There you go,” San huffs, voice strangled, you look up to see him sink his teeth into his bottom lip. “Fuck, so pretty, taking my cock so fucking well. Missed seeing you like this.”
You moan around him, core clenching and you can hear the whine caught in the back of Wooyoung’s throat, his fingers curling into the plush of your ass, squeezing so fucking hard it rips a tight noise from your chest, dying on San’s cock.
“Don’t know how long I’ll last, fuck,” Wooyoung chokes out, hands sliding up to your hipbones.
San does his best to make his smile appear cocky, “When’s the last time you fucked, huh?” He gasps the moment the words leave his lips, as you swallow around his length, he curses under his breath, tightening a hand in your roots.
Wooyoung speaks through gritted teeth, “Too fucking long, shit, she’s suckin’ me in–”
“Can’t wait to feel,” San grunts, hips twitching into your mouth, forcing you to take him deeper, “mouth just as dangerous, you’re a demon, Shy.”
You try to smile, he’s too wide in your mouth, in your throat, you settle for shooting him one with your eyes. You’re in rhythm now, head bobbing at the same pace as Wooyoung fucking into you, being so full, so manhandled by the two of them even if you were the one who put yourself here feels so good. Wooyoung’s cock is thinner than San’s, longer, you can feel how it curves along the front side of your walls, hitting every single spot you need it to.
It makes your knees wobble, your fingers twisting in the sheets, it feels too fucking good. It’s been a long while since you’ve breached an orgasm around someone’s cock, it’s muscle memory the way your arch comes back to you, the rhythm in which you fuck against him to get yourself off, the pressure building so different from when you do it yourself.
Wooyoung notices, landing a sharp smack to your ass, “Usin’ me? I can feel you fucking back.”
You pop off of San’s length to turn your head halfway, “Y’feel so good, Woo, can’t help it.”
His brows tie together, jaw falling slack, “Fuck, don’t stop, baby, don’t stop–”
“Inside, kay?” Between a moan and a whimper, “Don’t pull out.”
His palms push into the plush of your ass again as you take San’s cock into your mouth, stretching your lips wide to take him, using the slick you’d left behind to glide your tongue all the way down, choking yourself on him, bobbing your head in rhythm again.
Wooyoung’s hips stutter, he curses under his breath, one of his hands slides around to your front, between your legs, “Can’t– need you to cum first, baby, please.”
Two fingers to the bundle of nerves between your legs, your hips jerk, back arching impossibly deeper, a gargled moan vibrates San’s cock and he curses low, hands in your hair pulling, it’s overstimulating, how much is happening all at once.
Wooyoung’s fingers take all but three tight circles at your clit to send you freefalling over the edge, pressure blowing, pleasure spreading through your body like fireworks reaching each limb, every nerve ending. San tugs you off his cock by your hair, one hand fisting the base of him to stop his orgasm from hitting, and Wooyoung cries out as he barrels into you, hips finally stilling when he’s fully sheathed, filling you with warmth.
You’re gaping, staring at San wide-eyed, “Why?”
It takes a moment for you to process the warmth. Like sitting before a fire, it’s comforting, head dropping to let it sink in– nostalgic, you missed this.
“Wanna cum inside you,” he answers simply, “c’mere.”
Manhandling you all over again, he pulls you onto his lap, you can’t help but reach for Wooyoung behind you. San wastes no time, ignoring your heaving chest, the exhaustion in your eyes you’re hiding with adrenaline, with one hand on your hips he lines you up over his cock, easing you down onto his length, you hiss at the stretch, at the width of him.
“Big stretch,” his grin is taunting, “you can do it, baby, easy.”
“Fuck,” you whimper, arms stretching behind you, “Woo.” Searching for the man who just came inside you, he’s at your back, broad and steady, arms wrapping around you.
“I’m here,” he whispers into the curve of your neck, moving your hair away from your sticky neck to press his lips into you, and it’s the comfort you needed to start grinding your hips into San’s cock, moans spilling from your lips, small gasps and whines as he fills you up perfectly, walls molding to the shape of him like he’d never left.
“Fuck, Sannie,” you murmur, “‘s too much, missed your cock, but it’s too much.”
“You can do it,” he leans into you, groaning at the feeling of you around him, he searches for your lips. You pick your head up to meet him, pressing your lips to his, tongue sliding into his mouth, tasting every inch you can find. He grins into your lips, “Look at you, taking it like you did all those years ago. Still my fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?”
You gasp, hips twitching against him, clenching hard, and he curses under his breath like he wasn’t just taunting you. Lips still ghosting yours, he whispers, “Still like my mouth? All that nasty shit?”
You nod, nipples brushing against his chest with every bounce of your hips, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. All you can manage is, “More.”
“I know, baby,” his hips jerk up and you cry out, arching into Wooyoung behind you who reaches around your front, fingers pinching at your nipples, teeth at your ear. San, voice wrecked, grunts as he says, “Still need a little pain with the pleasure to get you off, huh?”
You can’t answer, eyelids fluttering, hazy at the feeling of Wooyoung’s release spilling out of you onto San’s thighs, the squelching sound of it coating his cock, making it easy for you to bounce yourself against him like a bitch in heat.
Wooyoung chuckles into your ear, low and velvety, it sends a shiver up your spine. “Never woulda guessed that from you, baby.”
It makes a lazy grin break out across your cheeks, head turning to kiss him, all teeth and tongue, messy and delicious. “Really?”
“My Shygirl,” his voice is filled with affection, lips pressed to the side of your head, parted and spilling spit onto your temple, your cheeks, it feels dirty– so fucking sexy you can’t control the way you hump San’s cock, slurring mindless babbles and strained noises you can barely comprehend.
“Our Shygirl,” San corrects him, eyeing Wooyoung over your shoulder, a severity to his tone that makes your eyes flick upward in question.
His brows tied with pleasure, sweat dripping down his brow, dark hair messy and tangled on his head, he looks like a fucking dream. He is a dream, this is a dream, harmonious with the two as if you’ve done this a thousand times, like it was always supposed to be this way, he can read the question on your tongue. He cups your cheek with a hand, sliding it to the back of your head to take root in your hair, tugging you towards him close enough for your lips to touch, “It’s different this time.”
You try to kiss him with your slacked jaw but it’s a trading of spit more than it is a kiss, “Different.”
“Mine,” he growls, a hand wrapping around your back, fingers digging into your skin, his words too coherent to be born of the heat of the moment. “Wanted this for too long, both of you, you’re both mine.”
“Yours,” you repeat, confirm with an airy head, echoed by Wooyoung as your hips stutter against San’s cock, head tipped against the younger man’s shoulder, “f-fuck me.”
“Sit,” it’s an order from San to Wooyoung that’s answered on command, he sits on his calves before uncurling his legs from below him, cock half-hard laying stiff between his hips.
San maneuvers you with two hands on your waist, you gasp as he tugs you off his cock effortlessly, laying you back on Wooyoung’s chest like it took no fucking strength at all. Strong arms wrap around you as your skin meets his, tilting your head to the side to see him, to kiss him, he smiles as he sees you, teeth on display.
“So fucking pretty,” Wooyoung looks at you the same way he always does, stars in his eyes, like he couldn’t smile without his whole face if he tried, like the look was solely for you. “You’re mine too, y’know.”
You reach up with one arm to pull his head down to yours, the kiss softer than those you’ve shared tonight, more controlled like you needed a moment to let his words sink in, your mind too fuzzy to process the weight of what that meant.
San’s fingers hook under your knees, pushing them backward until they leave you spread, lining himself up all over again, pushing inside in one quick motion.
A different feeling of full, Wooyoung holds your face against his as you whisper a cry into his mouth, your lips still touching as he grins, “Been waiting for this too, haven’t you? You wanna be ours?”
Body going limp in his hold, hand falling from his cheek mindlessly, your body feels like fucking jelly. You nod, breath quickening, short and tight at the feeling of San fucking into you, “Need to be, waited so long.”
San’s grip tightens under your knees, picking up speed, your head turns to see him and god you want to take a picture, want to frame it and hang it on the wall; brows furrowed, lips parted, eyes focused on your meeting below, his abdomen flexing as he rolls his hips into you, it makes your toes curl where they hang in the air.
Face scrunching up, you reach for him, pulling him down to you, “Need t’kiss you.”
Messy, sloppy, wet, you can feel him in your stomach as your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. With the last peck to your lips he presses his forehead against yours, “I missed you, I love you— taking me s’fucking perfectly, like you always do—”
A strangled noise fights to leave your chest, heavy where it sits trapped, the words forcing the warmth in the pit of your belly to bloom, explode, shattering every wall you’d built up in the past few weeks.
“I love you,” it’s a broken whisper, an admission you can’t keep inside any longer. A little louder, a little firmer, “I love you.”
He smiles into the kiss he plants on your lips, “Yeah?”
“Hey,” Wooyoung interjects, hands cupping your cheeks to tilt you backward, “I love you, too.”
You’d smile if San didn’t pick up speed all over again, instead you’re babbling a mess of I love you, I love you too into Wooyoung’s mouth, lips barely touching enough to call it a kiss, so mindless and breathless and overwhelmed all you can do is feel.
Wooyoung’s hand leaves your cheek to sink between yours and San’s bodies, two fingers pressed to your clit, swirling tight circles on the bundles of nerves. Your body fights to jerk between them, trapped between sweat and muscle, head lolling backward on Wooyoung’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut.
San switches his angle, strong arms tilting your hips upward to fuck into you harder, to angle his cock to hit the sweet spot inside you, building the pit of pressure of your stomach with purpose.
Your eyes blow wide, breath quickening, “San— Sannie—”
“C’mon,” he encourages, sitting backward to fuck into you faster, “Lemme feel it, want it.”
Incoherent babbles and the clenching of your cunt has your hands reaching for his forearms, fingernails pressing into his skin, all while Wooyoung keeps his pace on your clit, rhythm perfect, pressure nothing short of unbearable.
“Woo— Sannie—” you don’t know who to cry for, hips fighting to meet San’s thrusts, grinding into Wooyoung’s fingers, “I’m gonna cum.”
“Let go, baby,” Wooyoung’s voice is light and encouraging but he’s babbling as if San was fucking him, “let him feel it, he wants it so bad, he loves it, loves you.”
Breath caught in your chest, your jaw drops as your pleasure hits its peak, meeting San’s gaze as your orgasm washes over you like a fucking hurricane, utterly speechless as your legs shake in the open air, inescapable euphoria reaching every inch of skin.
“Fuck, Shy,” San groans, “you’re so fucking sexy, oh my god, oh my god—”
You don’t have time to respond before Wooyoung is kissing you again, tilting your head backward with one hand as San extends your orgasm with every thrust of his cock, Wooyoung’s fingers slowing on your clit, letting you ride it out until you’re a whining, twitching mess.
“Fuck,” you mutter harshly, letting Wooyoung guide the sloppy kiss as San’s hips stutter, rhythm quickening to something ruthless, chasing his own high, a selfish pace.
“Gonna fill this pussy up,” San’s babbling, “all mine, mine to fill,” his voice is somewhere far, deep in the moment, “I love it, love you, my Shygirl, shit—”
Erratic thrusts come to a hilt, stalling fully seated, you moan softly into Wooyoung’s mouth as heavy warmth fills you steadily, making you shiver.
You break away from Wooyoung to look at San, eyelids low but you couldn’t miss the way his skin glows, as if you poured water over a sculpture made of gold, you stare in awe at his heaving chest, how his abdomen still clenches, flexing each muscle.
“Pretty,” the word is mindless, said through a breath.
He leans down, pressing his palms to the bed on either side of you, attaching your lips in a slow, steady kiss. “That’s you,” he whispers, “my pretty girl.”
He picks his head up to Wooyoung behind you, pressing a kiss to his lips, too. “My pretty boy.”
Wooyoung holds him close, you feel him melt under San’s touch, his words. “I love you,” Wooyoung mumbles, half-heard to you because he says it into San’s mouth, “so much.”
“I love you too, baby,” San presses one more kiss to his lips before he plants one on your forehead, “and I love you, too.”
“Do you really?” The question is pure instinct, “Like, actually?”
“Baby,” he says it like it’s obvious, like it’s silly for you to even question it. “I’ve spent my whole life loving you.”
There's a heaviness to your chest, the same tightness you felt when he said it earlier, it travels to your throat, the heat under your eyes pushing water into your lash line.
“No,” he says softly, “don’t cry.”
You can’t help your smile, sniffling, giggling as two tears spill down your cheeks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Hold on,” his voice is still delicate, like glass, he sits back on his knees to carefully slip out of you, “come up here.”
You move with Wooyoung, the younger man half carrying you to the top of the bed, your heads falling into your pillows, their bodies on either side of you in your queen-sized bed like it was big enough to fit all three of you.
Your back is halfway pressed up against San, eyes hazy and low with Wooyoung in view, you ask him, “And you?”
His smile is soft but his face reads relief like he’s been sitting on this information for ages. “I’ve loved you probably since I moved in, but I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”
“That I knew,” you sniff, giggling again, turning your head up to see San who’s staring at you like you’re his entire world, “why didn’t you guys tell me?”
“It’s not an easy thing to say,” there’s a small, apologetic smile on his lips.
Wooyoung adds, “When we started living together I just assumed we were friend-zoned forever. When San and I got together, like, half of our relationship was based on the fact that we both still loved you while loving each other.”
San’s arm wraps around your front, tucking you further into him, “When you’re best friends and roommates and a little too close for comfort, it’s hard to not fall in love.”
“Especially when all of those things are you,” Wooyoung adds, shuffling towards you like he couldn’t get close enough, “why didn’t you tell us how you felt?”
“Because you started fucking dating each other,” you answer like you’ve been waiting for the question, amusement overshadowing the truth to your words, “I didn’t think I was invited to the party.”
Wooyoung leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, he looks at you when he pulls away, so much love and honesty swirling in chocolate it makes you shiver, but because he’s Wooyoung, he starts singing, “I only threw this party for you, only threw this party for you, for you for you…”
You snort, giggling into San’s chest, and the older man continues, loud and proud, “You could watch me pull up on your body like it’s summer take my clothes off in the water—”
You join him, just as loud and maybe even prouder, “—splash around and get you blessed like holy water, I don’t know what you’ve been waitin’ for, you know that I’ve been waitin’ for you.”
Wooyoung laughs, turning on his back, you watch how his chest expands and falls with each loud, obnoxious cackle. He turns his head to face you, “If you think about it, that song is kinda us.”
“I think that song is Jay Gatsby,” you correct him, “I’m kinda Jay Gatsby and you guys are kinda Daisy Buchanan.”
“No, we’re Jay Gatsby and you’re Daisy Buchanan,” San says a little more confidently than you did, “we threw the party and you didn't come.”
“Oh we are not arguing about this,” you turn your head to furrow your brows at him, reiterating, “but let the records show that I was not invited to said party.”
Wooyoung is quick with his answer, “We only threw the damn party for you.”
It’s like nothing has changed.
Curled up on the chaise of the couch, you in the corner, Wooyoung’s head on your lap with his leg stretched one way, San’s head is between your legs with both of your bodies laid out the other way.
Dirty Dancing is playing on the flatscreen across the room, Sweetie cozy right beneath you, on the hardwood floor with his body pressed up against the deck of the couch, everything, everyone you love is in one room.
A month of being together, the only thing that’s changed in your relationship is where you sleep, and that you kiss— and fuck, entirely too much for a typical honeymoon phase, but as San says, you’re making up for lost time.
Waking up together, going to work together, sleeping together, you wonder after years of being attached at the hip how you don’t feel tired of them. You suppose you never could, the two men being fibers of your being, embedded into you like the essence of your own being, it’s more that you can’t live without them.
And the more you think about it, the more you wonder how you didn’t notice it sooner. So hyper focused on what you want, you couldn’t realize what you already had, there was a reason your relationship has always been too close for comfort.
But now you have them, and you love them, and they fucking love you— they are not afraid to show it, they’d scream it to the rooftops if you let them. Sometimes you almost do let them, just to let the feeling sink in a little further, to let their love overflow the gap in your chest that’s been full for a month now.
One hand in San’s hair, the other drawing shapes into Wooyoung’s chest, a thought dawns on you. You ask, “Hey, remember that night at Steer?” Their heads tilt toward, eyeing you over their eyebrows, nodding. “Whatever happened to Yunho?”
Wooyoung snorts, San shakes his head, it makes you giggle. Wooyoung answers, “I told him his work was done and that we could take it from there.”
“His work was done?” You question, “What work?”
“You told him you love us the night you went on the date with him, right?” San suddenly asks, looking over his forehead at you once more. You nod like this was common information and he laughs so loud it makes Sweetie sit up on his hind legs.
“I told you, you called me schizophrenic!” San shouts over the couch at Wooyoung, sitting up on an elbow, “I knew it, my Shy senses were tingling.”
“Shy senses?” You ask, a question ignored.
Wooyoung sits up too, eyes wide, “Wha—? Maybe you should be a detective, Sannie, I’m serious.”
“What are you talking about?” You ask a little louder, “Inform me right this second, please.”
“I know you so well it’s scary,” San lays back down, one hand lazily thrown over the side of the couch to scratch Sweetie’s head, calming him. “Like the back of my hand, baby.”
His words make you smile, settling back into the couch again. Wooyoung turns on his elbow to see you, “San knew that Yunho knew,” he shakes his head, “with literally no proof, just vibes. Scary.”
You run your hands through his hair, your smile completely teasing, “You’ll get there, baby. One more decade.”
Wooyoung’s top lip curls, “Not you, too. I know you just as well, if not better than San—”
San’s head picks up with a gasp, “You do not—!”
Your giggles cut through their bickering, “You’re both stupid, I love you.”
“We love you too,” they mumble, settling back into their positions on the couch, where your hands fell to their hair, scratching their scalps into silence. Your smile stays as your head lifts back to the movie across the room, not actually watching, too consumed with contentment and that lovesick feeling in your stomach.
Yours. Finally.
my masterlist | fic exchange masterlist
my love letter to plum, you are worth the world and more. deserving of everything you've ever wanted, i hope u loved this. ur my whole heart. i love u ᢉ𐭩
Yunho juggled the warm takeout bag in one hand and his phone in the other as he nudged open the apartment door with his shoulder. The spicy smell of buldak chicken and steamed mandu was already seeping through the plastic, comforting and familiar, something good to come home to. The apartment was dim but not empty. The glow from the TV flickered across the living room walls, shadows shifting against the white and navy decor Yeosang was so damn particular about. Yunho paused just inside the door, head tilting slightly at the voices.
Laughter. Yours. Then Mingi’s. He stepped quietly out of his shoes, setting the bag on the entryway table. The sight that met him when he turned the corner into the living room knocked something loose in his chest. You were curled up on the couch, hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up your forearms, legs tucked beneath you. Mingi sat beside you, leaning back in his usual lazy sprawl, blonde hair a little messy, one arm draped along the back of the couch just a few inches from your shoulder. His hoodie was oversized, gray and slouched off one side, a pair of joggers riding low on his hips.
The room smelled like your candles, jasmine and vanilla, and the faint trace of cologne that clung to Mingi like a signature. Neither of you noticed him at first. You were too busy laughing at whatever movie was playing on the screen, your hand pressed to your mouth, and Mingi grinning wide beside you as Yunho’s voice cut through the moment. “You two look cozy.” Both your heads turned and you lit up instantly as Mingi gave him a lazy nod.
Yunho walked in slowly, letting his gaze flick between you and his best friend. He didn’t say anything for a beat too long as you sat up a little straighter, the shift subtle. “Yeosang’s in the shower,” you added, maybe as a buffer, maybe just to fill the silence and Yunho nodded once, walking past both of you into the kitchen. The bag landed a little heavier on the counter than it needed to.
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The bar was tucked into a corner not far from KQ, dimly lit and half empty, the kind of place Yunho liked for its quiet anonymity. No neon, no cameras. Just a worn leather booth, condensation slick glasses, and the familiar buzz of low conversation. Jongho was already a few shots deep and Yunho wasn’t far behind, but he paced himself, slow sips, lazy swirls of amber liquid around ice, letting it settle behind his sternum where the tension usually lived. It wasn’t often they had a night like this. No schedules, no practice, no pressure.
“Hyung,” Jongho said suddenly, squinting down at his glass, “you ever think about how weird it is… how small the world is?” Yunho chuckled. “You’re drunk.” Jongho ignored him, elbow on the table, spinning the glass by the rim. “Like… how people’s paths cross. Once. Then again. But in different ways.” Yunho raised a brow. “You about to get philosophical on me?”
“Shut up, I’m serious,” Jongho muttered, then grinned, eyes glassy. “It’s like…. like when you find out something totally random connects to your current life.” Yunho leaned back in the booth, one arm stretched out lazily across the backrest. “Okay, Confucius. Give me an example.” Jongho opened his mouth. Closed it. Then made a mistake. “Like that time I walked in on Mingi and Y/…..” He stopped and visibly winced. “Shit.”
Yunho didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. “Mingi and who?” Jongho’s face shifted through five stages of regret in two seconds flat. “Forget it,” he said, laughing too quickly. “I’m just drunk. I didn’t mean…”
“Who, Jongho?”
Silence. The music playing overhead bled into the space between them. A low synth beat. A female voice crooning something heartbreake as Jongho exhaled. “It was forever ago, man. 2020. Before you ever even started dating her.” Yunho’s expression didn’t change, but the drink in his hand stilled. “Y/N?”
Jongho’s silence said it all and Yunho’s jaw twitched once as Jongho leaned forward, urgent now. “Look… it wasn’t serious. It was one night. They were both single. And Mingi never… I’m sure he never said anything after you two got together. Neither did she. It wasn’t like that. He’s always respected you. He still does.”
Yunho stared at the ice melting in his glass. That should’ve been the part that broke him. But it didn’t. The part that snapped through his skull like a lit fuse was the image. Your body under Mingi’s. The curve of your back. Your voice. The way Mingi’s mouth would’ve looked against your skin. And you never told him. Neither of you did. And now every moment you laughed with Mingi, every shared glance, every old joke, was loaded.
He downed the rest of his drink. Didn’t speak. Didn’t ask another question. Didn’t need to. Because now he couldn’t unsee it. And worse, he wasn’t angry. He was hard.
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Yunho stood in the kitchen, just watching you and Mingi untangle yourselves from the couch as if you hadn’t just stabbed him with a memory he never asked for. You stood first, stretching with a soft sigh, hoodie rising slightly to reveal a sliver of skin above your waistband. Mingi followed right after, yawning exaggeratedly as he raked a hand through his messy blonde hair. “Oh shit, food,” he grinned, heading toward the kitchen like he lived here. Yunho didn’t move out of the way but Mingi still brushed past him, shoulder to shoulder, casual as hell, plucking one of the steamed mandu straight from the takeout container without asking. “Hot,” Mingi muttered, mouth half full as he blew air dramatically between his lips.
Yunho stared at him but Mingi didn’t notice. Or maybe he did. You were behind them, grabbing a pair of chopsticks from the drawer like you always did, totally unaware that your boyfriend’s mind was spiraling. He could still hear Jongho’s voice from that night as the soft sound of a door opening pulled everyone’s attention as Yeosang stepped out from the hallway, towel around his neck, damp hair sticking to his forehead. He blinked at the crowd in his kitchen. “Why does it smell like Mingi touched the food?”
“I did touch the food,” Mingi said proudly, holding up another dumpling. “And I’m taking this one too.” Yeosang groaned and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “You’re the reason we can’t have nice things.” Yunho’s lips twitched at the corner, almost a smile. Almost. But the weight behind his eyes didn’t lift as you slid in beside him, hip bumping his gently. “Thanks for picking this up. You hungry?” He looked down at you. You were so soft when you smiled like that. So his. And right now, all he could think about was his best friend inside you. His voice was calm. Controlled. “Starving.”
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The lights were low and golden, soaked into the wood grain of the walls like smoke. Some vinyl was playing from the back, old soul, scratchy edges. No fans. No phones. No bullshit. Just Yunho and Mingi in a booth near the back, two whiskies on the rocks between them, untouched for now as Mingi leaned back, legs stretched under the table, hoodie traded out for a plain black tee that clung to his frame. Blonde hair still a little damp from his earlier shower.
Yunho had already rolled his sleeves to the elbows. He wasn’t drunk. Not even tipsy. Mingi, though, he had that warm buzz behind his eyes, the one that made him talk more. Laugh easier. Miss red flags. “It’s been a while since just us two hung out,” Mingi said, swirling his glass with a soft clink. “We always say we’ll go out, but then schedules get crazy.” Yunho nodded slowly, watching the way Mingi’s fingers tapped the rim. “This place is nice,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t even know it existed.” Yunho hummed, swirling his drink slowly. “Yeah. Seonghwa showed it to me. Good for nights when you don’t want eyes on you.”
Mingi nodded. “Kinda wish I had a spot like this back when I was still rooming with Jongho. That apartment was cursed.” Yunho smirked into his glass. “You did some wild shit back then.” Mingi laughed. “You act like you weren’t worse.”
“Not worse,” Yunho said smoothly. “Just… quieter.” Another drink. Another few minutes of silence, broken only by the lazy jazz now bleeding out of overhead speakers. Yunho let it stretch. He didn’t push. He just sat there, letting Mingi settle in deeper, watching the way his lips parted a little more with each sip, how his walls came down without him even noticing.
When Mingi poured another two fingers, Yunho mirrored him. But he didn’t drink it. Not yet. He waited. Waited until Mingi’s smile turned a little sleepy, until he slouched just a little further, until he said something like, “Man, I miss being reckless sometimes.” And that was Yunho’s cue. He leaned in slightly, voice dropping, relaxed and conspiratorial. “Reckless, huh? You mean like hooking up with people you weren’t supposed to?”
Mingi chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean… maybe.” Yunho matched the laugh and tilted his head. “Alright, be honest…” He picked up his drink, finally taking a slow sip, and locked eyes with his best friend across the table. “What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”
Mingi blinked. Then barked out a laugh. “What kind of question is that?”
“The kind two drunk best friends ask at nearly midnight,” Yunho said, smiling like it was nothing. “Come on…. Spill.” Mingi leaned his head back, closing his eyes with a groan. “Fuck. I dunno, man. That’s a loaded question.”
“Exactly why I asked.”
Mingi was quiet for a beat too long and Yunho stayed still. Relaxed. But his heart was thudding when Mingi finally huffed a breath, the kind that said he knew better than to answer, but was going to anyway. He swirled his whiskey lazily, eyes fixed on the ice like it held answers. “Alright…” he finally said, lips tugging into a slow, sheepish smile. “There was this one time. Back in 2020.”
Yunho’s grip on his glass didn’t change. But inside he snapped to full attention as Mingi leaned back against the booth, eyes glazed in memory now, lips parting around the words before he could stop them. “It was one of those nights where everything just lined up. No expectations. Just heat. It was back when we were rotating stylists all the time,” Mingi started, rubbing his jaw. “You remember those months, right? Never the same team twice. Like every comeback we had a new person fitting our pants.”
Yunho made a quiet noise. “Yeah. Rough era.”
“She was new. Cool as hell. I thought she was just being nice at first, but then she followed me out one night.”
Yunho’s fingers curled lightly around his glass.
“Club in Itaewon. We were all there, Hongjoong, Wooyoung, me. She showed up late. Looked hot. Like she wasn’t even trying. Big hoops, red lipstick, black dress. All legs.” He laughed to himself. “We were drunk. Not like messy drunk. Just enough. I told her she should come back with me, she didn’t even blink.”
Yunho’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. Still quiet. Still listening.
“Got her back to the dorms and thank fuck everyone was out. It was like, we didn’t even make it to my bed at first. Just slammed her against the wall. She kissed like she was pissed at me for waiting.” He took another sip, eyes a little glazed now. Lost in the memory. “When I finally got her to my bed, she climbed on top of me like she was born to do it. Took off her dress without me even asking. No bra. Just those hoops swinging, her nails in my chest, and I swear to God… she rode me like she wanted to ruin my life.”
Yunho’s knuckles whitened around his glass as Mingi kept going, chuckling now. “And right when I’m about to come, I hear this click and Jongho’s standing in the doorway looking traumatized. Dude just backed out and closed the door. Didn’t even say anything.” He laughed louder now, slapping the side of his glass. “Took him three days to make eye contact with me again.”
Mingi was grinning now, loose and full of heat, the kind of smile that only showed up when he was riding the line between buzzed and reckless. His elbow was on the table, one hand lazily spinning his glass while he replayed every second of the memory like it was his favorite movie.
Yunho’s expression never changed. Just leaned in slightly, voice low. “What happened after Jongho left?” Mingi blinked at him. Then huffed a laugh and took another sip. “Shit. Honestly?” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “She lost it.” He leaned back with a groan, grinning like he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t know what it was, maybe being caught turned her on more? But I swear, the second the door clicked shut, she got even louder. Screaming my name, begging me not to stop.”
Yunho didn’t blink as Mingi kept going. “She was a squirter, too. Like…. bad. Soaked my sheets twice. Told me not to pull out either.” He laughed, eyes glazing. “Said she was on the pill. Let me hit raw. Let me do whatever I wanted. Even let me fuck her ass before we passed out.”
Yunho nodded, as if politely listening to a story about a new car or a vacation. His fingers tapped once on the glass. “You know…” He let the pause stretch. Let Mingi sip. “Me and Jongho were here last week.” Mingi glanced up as Yunho’s voice stayed soft. But it cut like a blade. “He was drunk. Let it slip.” Yunho tilted his head, watching Mingi freeze. “How he walked in on you….. with Y/N.”
The name landed like a gunshot and Mingi’s entire body stilled. The grin died on his face as he stared at his best friend, blinking, confusion and horror crashing into him in real time and Yunho finally smiled. But there was nothing kind about it. “She ever tell you we were already talking back then?”
The air between them dropped ten degrees. Mingi’s throat bobbed as he set his glass down with a quiet clink, like sudden movement might make this worse. “Yunho…” he started, voice already cracking, “I didn’t think… fuck…. I didn’t know you knew.” Yunho didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched. “I thought…” Mingi’s hands flexed on the table. “We agreed not to say anything. That was five years ago. You weren’t even with her yet.… I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad.”
And that shattered Mingi more than yelling ever could. “What?”
“She really does get loud, doesn’t she?”
Mingi’s mouth parted like he was about to say something, but nothing came out. He just stared at Yunho. Chest tight. Pulse thudding in his ears as Yunho tilted his head slightly, as if studying him. “You still want her?” The question hung heavy in the air. Not accusatory. Just honest. Deadly honest.
Mingi’s brows furrowed, lips parting again. “Yunho…” Yunho leaned forward just a little, arms resting on the table, fingers lazily tracing the rim of his glass. “Because I think you do.” His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t have to. “You still think about it. About her. About that night.”
Mingi stayed silent. And Yunho smiled. Slowly. Like he already knew the answer. “It’s okay. I’m not mad, remember?” He took another sip, licking the whiskey off his bottom lip. “I just wanted to know if you’d lie to me.”
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The door clicked shut behind him with a soft thunk as Yunho slid the lock in place, dropped his keys in the bowl by the door, and toed off his boots in the dark. The hallway was silent except for the low hum of the heater and the faint drip of the shower coming from the bathroom at the end of the hall. You were still awake. Of course you were.
He walked in slow, shoulders loose, head slightly tilted like the whole night hadn’t just peeled back five years of hidden truth and laid it bare on a whiskey stained table.
Yeosang’s door was cracked open, the light off, soft snores audible from inside. Passed out. Dead to the world. Yunho ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long, quiet breath as he stepped further in. The bathroom door was half closed, fog curling out into the hallway, the sound of water muffled but steady. He stopped in the doorway and looked in.
Your silhouette moved behind the fogged glass of the shower, barely visible, the curve of your body blurred and glistening, head tilted back under the spray. You didn’t know he was home yet. Didn’t know what Mingi had said. Didn’t know that Yunho had asked if he still wanted you. Didn’t know that Mingi hadn’t answered.
Yunho swallowed hard, jaw working. His knuckles ached from how tight he’d been gripping his glass earlier. And now, staring at you behind that fogged door, the image of you on Mingi’s bed, mouth open, soaked sheets, desperate hands, clashed violently with the you standing here. His. Now. And yet… Still loud. Just like Mingi said.
Yunho closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deep. Then he turned away and headed to the bedroom to wait. The bedroom light was low, the curtains drawn tight against the city outside. The lamp on Yunho’s side cast a warm amber glow, cutting soft shadows across the room as he sat at the edge of the bed in nothing but gray pajama pants, legs slightly spread, forearms resting on his thighs. His dark hair was still perfectly in place from earlier, but his body was relaxed now, chest bare, smooth, golden in the light, the faint outline of his abs rising and falling with every quiet breath.
He heard the water stop. The soft sound of you padding across the apartment. The creak of the bathroom door before you stepped into the room, towel wrapped around you, hair damp and skin flushed from the heat. You paused when you saw him there, already waiting. Yunho looked up. Slow blink. Slight smile. “Hey, baby.” His voice was low, honeyed, unreadable.
You smiled back, soft and unsuspecting, and walked toward the dresser to grab one of his shirts, pulling it on and turning around just in time for him to pat his thigh. “Come here.” It wasn’t a request. Yunho reached for your hips the moment you were close enough, tugging you gently into his lap, your legs straddling him as you settled on top. His hands rested on the backs of your thighs, fingers dragging slow lines up toward your hips.
His hands slid up beneath the hem of his own shirt on you, thumbs dragging along your waist, the tips of his fingers spreading wide across your back. “You were laughing a lot earlier,” he said quietly. “Mingi’s funny, huh?” You nodded, breath hitching just slightly at the soft scrape of his nails against your skin. “He’s always like that.” Yunho’s eyes flicked up to yours. Still calm. Still warm. “Yeah,” he said, voice smooth. “You two go way back.”
You barely had time to react to that before he was lifting you, flipping your positions as he shifted up the bed. His shirt dragged up your body as he moved, exposing skin inch by inch until he tugged it up and over your head entirely, tossing it somewhere to the side. He paused for just a second. Eyes dragging over your now bare body, no panties, no bra, completely naked for him without him having to ask. “Fuck,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.
He leaned down, lips brushing your throat, one hand braced beside your head and the other running down your thigh. But he didn’t linger. Didn’t tease. “I need you.” The words were low. Taut. Almost strained. You nodded, your breath already shallow, reaching for the waistband of his pajama pants but he was faster. He sat back on his knees, pulling them off in one smooth motion, his dick already hard and heavy against his abdomen.
His hands returned to your waist, dragging you into his lap effortlessly, and his voice dropped again, firm, breathless, low. “Ride me.” Again, it wasn’t a request. And you didn’t hesitate. You moved quickly, straddling him, your knees bracing on either side of his thighs, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. He gripped the base of his dick for you, guiding you with ease as you hovered above him, his eyes never leaving yours. “Go on.”
You sank down slow, the stretch making your breath catch, your fingers digging into his chest as you bottomed out on him and Yunho let out a sharp breath through his nose, his head tipping back briefly. “Just like that…” His hands slid up your waist, gripping hard at your hips. “You’re already this wet for me? Didn’t even have to touch you first.” He looked up at you again, gaze burning now. “Fuck yourself on me.”
And you did. You rode him hard, thighs shaking, hands flat on his chest as your hips rose and dropped with desperate rhythm. Sweat beaded at your temple, your moans slipping into gasps, louder with every bounce. Yunho’s hands gripped your hips at first, guiding you, holding you steady… until he let go. Let you lose control on top of him. “That’s it,” he groaned, watching the way your body worked him. “Use me.” His head tipped back, chest rising and falling beneath your palms. “Take it.”
You whimpered something unintelligible, rhythm stuttering, and Yunho saw it. the way your thighs trembled, your walls clenched, the wave cresting. “Go on,” he breathed. “Come for me.” And you did, a sob ripping from your throat as your body seized, your orgasm crashing through you in waves. You barely had time to recover before Yunho was gripping you again. In one fluid motion, he flipped you, flat to your hands and knees, not giving you a break.
He knelt behind you, dragged his dick through your dripping folds once, then slammed back inside making you cry out, the sound high and wrecked as he fucked into you hard. No hesitation. No gentleness now, just the slap of skin and the growl in his chest as he chased something darker. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Louder.” And you were, moaning, screaming, hands clawing at the sheets as his dick hit deep, over and over, relentless against your g spot.
Then your body locked up. “Yunho!” You squirted hard around him, soaking the sheets, your scream echoing in the room. And that’s when Yunho pulled out. Just slightly. His dick, slick and thick, brushed up, too high, his tip teasing against your tight, twitching rim and you gasped, back arching in surprise as Yunho leaned over you, breath hot against your shoulder. “Tell me… who’s bigger?” You froze. Heart pounding. Pussy still pulsing as his hips shifted. “You remember, don’t you?” He pressed against your ass, slowly, the head of his dick pushing past resistance. “Me…” His voice was low. Right at your ear. “Or Mingi?”
He started to sink in deeper. Slow. Thick. Stretching you open inch by inch. “Be honest.” You couldn’t breathe. Not properly. Not with how full you were. Not with the way Yunho was pushing into you slowly, thick and steady, his dick stretching your ass open as your face buried into the pillows and your thighs trembled. Your heart pounded.
Your lips parted in a broken moan, fingers curling into the sheets as you gasped for air as Yunho leaned over your back, his palm flat on the small of your spine, holding you there, his dick buried inside you now, not moving, just letting you feel the weight of it. “Breathe,” he said softly. Almost sweet. But your chest was tight. Not from the stretch. From the words he said before. Mingi. Your blood ran cold. He knows. The thought slammed into you so hard your eyes stung. You blinked fast, jaw slack, lips trembling as you tried to look over your shoulder.
Yunho was still behind you. Still inside. His hand slid up your back like he was calming you down, not splitting you open. “Yunho….” you whispered, but your voice cracked. And he hummed. Just a hum. Not a denial. Not a question. Like he’d been waiting for you to catch up. You didn’t move. Couldn’t.
Your whole body locked up in the shock of it. Of the realization. Of the fact that he’d brought you here like this, that every single thing he’d done tonight mirrored what you’d told no one. What only one person knew. His best friend. Your stomach flipped. “You…” your voice shook. “You know.”
Yunho’s hand curved around your throat, pulling your upper body back against him just enough to whisper into your ear, “Of course I do.” And then he rolled his hips, deep, slow, intentional, grinding himself into your ass like he wanted to imprint himself there. “Now answer the question.”
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The hallway at the mbc end of the year gayo was loud. Some running passed with clipboards. Someone yelled about confetti cues. The floor buzzed beneath your sneakers, but you barely felt it, like you were walking underwater. Your clipboard was in your hand, checklist half filled. There were racks of outfits, jewelry trays, steamed jackets, touch up kits… all of it ready.
You weren’t.
The dressing room was lit too bright. You’d already adjusted Yeosang’s mic pack, double checked Jongho’s pants fit, even teased Wooyoung’s hair when he asked, but your fingers felt clumsy. Your mind was nowhere in that room. Last night was still on loop. His voice. His hands. The weight of him inside you. “Now answer the question.” You hadn’t and Yunho hadn’t pushed again. He’d just held you after. Kissed your shoulder like he hadn’t just split you open and laid you bare.
And now you were here, surrounded by music and stylists and lights, and Yunho? He was laughing with San and Seonghwa by the monitors like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t destroyed you with just a whisper and a thrust. You looked away fast. Tried to breathe. Tried to focus on the checklist in your hand. That’s when you saw him. Mingi. He’d just walked in, dark hoodie over his stage shirt, hair already styled, ear cuffs gleaming under the fluorescents. He hadn’t even said anything yet. But the second his eyes met yours? Your stomach dropped. He knew.
He knew Yunho knew. It was in the tight line of his mouth. The twitch at his jaw. The way his eyes flicked over your body, not lustful, not playful. Wary. You blinked once. Twice. The clipboard in your hand suddenly felt heavy. And Mingi just just stared. No smirk. No nod. No, “hi.” Just silence and something unreadable behind his eyes. You crossed the room before you could stop yourself, clipboard forgotten, eyes locked on him.
Mingi stood near the corner mirror now, adjusting the cuff on his wrist, hoodie shrugged halfway off one shoulder to reveal the chain hanging from his styled collar. You walked up with a small brush in your hand like it was nothing, like you were just doing your job. “Mingi,” you said quietly. He didn’t look at you as you stepped in close, close enough that your chest brushed his arm. Lifted the brush to the front of his hair, eyes locked on the mirror in front of you both.
From the outside, it looked like you were fixing a stray piece near his temple. But your voice was low. Deadly. “You fucking told him?” Mingi’s jaw tensed. His eyes flicked to yours in the mirror, then away. “I didn’t tell him anything.” You didn’t blink. “Bullshit.” Mingi exhaled hard through his nose. Voice barely audible. “Jongho told him.” Your hand froze. Just for a second. Then you dragged the brush once more through his hair, mechanically, like the motion could ground you.
“You let him find out like that?” you hissed, lips not moving. “You let him ask me about it while he was inside me?” Mingi’s nostrils flared, but his face stayed still. “I didn’t know, alright? I didn’t know until he looked me in the eye and practically manipulated me to say it.” You pulled back slowly, lowering the brush, but not your gaze. “And you did.”
Mingi finally turned toward you. Face close. Too close. “Would you have lied?” Your stomach twisted and in the mirror behind him, Yunho was walking over as Mingi’s eyes were still on you. Sharp. Wounded. Regretful. But yours were already past him, locked on your boyfriend as he walked past you and sat down in the vanity chair right beside you. Didn’t speak. Didn’t look at either of you. Just sat back, one leg propped lazily over the other, thumb scrolling through something on his screen. Like he hadn’t baited Mingi into a confession, then buried it inside you.
You and Mingi both turned slowly, eyes locked on him, breath caught but Yunho didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t have to. His entire posture said, I know. I’m fine. You’re not. And she’s still mine. The silence between the three of you was thick, so charged it buzzed beneath your skin as you shifted your weight, the clipboard still in your hand. Mingi’s jaw was tight beside you. His knee bounced once and stopped as Yunho finally tapped something on his screen and murmured, almost to himself, “Set list changed. We’re bumped to after midnight.” He still didn’t look up. Still didn’t smile. Just sat there like the devil himself, scrolling, waiting.
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The show had just started. Ateez had finished their opening and now a rookie group was on, their vocals blasting faintly through the monitors lining the hall. The lights behind the curtain bled blue and gold, shadows of dancers spinning across the frosted walls. Inside ATEEZ’s lounge, it was quieter. Tense. Seonghwa was pacing through choreo. Wooyoung was teasing Jongho. Yeosang was sitting with his eyes closed, headphones on, zoning out.
And in the far corner, low light, couch shoved against the wall, Yunho and Mingi sat in silence. Yunho was leaned forward, elbows on his knees, phone in one hand, the other absently twisting his team ring on his finger. Mingi hadn’t looked at him in ten minutes. Not until now. His voice was low. Tight. “You really want me to answer that question from last night?”
Yunho didn’t look over. Just let the question sit in the air between them for a beat. Then another. “You asked if I still want her like that,” Mingi added, quieter this time. “You really want to hear it?” Yunho’s thumb slowed its movement on his ring. Then stopped. And finally he looked over. His expression wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even cold. It was curious. “Yeah,” he said calmly. “I do.”
Mingi’s throat bobbed. “Why?” Yunho didn’t blink. “Because I watched her fall apart on my dick last night…” His voice dropped just a little. “Screaming. Squirting. Just like she had for you.” Mingi’s jaw tensed, breath caught as Yunho tilted his head. “So if you still want her like that…” His mouth twitched. Just slightly. “I want to see what you’ll do about it.”
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It was almost midnight. The lights were pulsing gold and white across the massive stage. Streamers curled around your feet. The LED screen behind the MCs showed 11:58, ticking down in the corner. Fans were screaming from the crowd pit. The whole place buzzed with countdown energy. Idols from every group were packed together, laughing, bowing, waving at cameras, huddling for selfies. And in the middle of it? ATEEZ.
You stood just off stage with the other stylists and managers, clipboard clutched tight in your hands, watching for final cues, fixing a mic wire here, a jacket collar there. You weren’t supposed to be watching them. But you couldn’t help it. Not when something felt off. Yunho stood near the center with Seonghwa and Jongho, clapping politely, a lazy grin on his lips, but his eyes? They drifted to you. Briefly. Blatantly. Then he looked away like it hadn’t happened.
Your stomach flipped and then you noticed Mingi. He was off to the left with San and Wooyoung, bouncing slightly on his heels with the music, but he wasn’t looking at the crowd either. He was looking at you. And it wasn’t that guarded, guilty look from earlier in the dressing room. This time? It was heat. Full blown, mouth parted, can’t stop staring at you heat. Your heart stuttered as the countdown started.
“TEN!”
Mingi turned his head away, barely. Not fast enough.
“NINE!”
Yunho’s hand flexed at his side.
“EIGHT!”
You realized, whatever they talked about backstage when you noticed them on the couch together…
“SEVEN!”
….whatever Yunho had told him…
“SIX!”
Mingi wasn’t hiding it anymore.
“FIVE!”
He was waiting.
“FOUR!”
For permission.
“THREE!”
“For the green light.
“TWO!”
For you.
“ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
Confetti exploded. Cheers erupted. ATEEZ smiled for the cameras. But all you could feel was two sets of eyes burning into your skin.
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The energy backstage was a blur of flashing lights, quick steps, and shouted times. Staff swarmed around idols like bees to honey, fixing jackets, wiping sweat, checking mic levels. Someone was yelling for water. Someone else was counting down second call. ATEEZ had exactly five minutes before they were back onstage. You moved through them on instinct, head down, kit in hand, brushing powder onto Jongho’s nose, smoothing Wooyoung’s fringe, flipping open a comb for Yunho… and that’s when you felt it.
Heat again.
But not from your boyfriend. Your fingers moved automatically through his dark, slightly damp hair, combing the strands neatly into place. And you could feel him watching you again. Mingi. And your spine prickled. You didn’t dare turn your head. You tried to focus. You really tried. But Yunho was sitting on the low bench in front of you, spread legs, hands resting casually on his thighs, and even seated, he radiated ownership.
And the second your fingers paused in his hair, Yunho looked up. Eyes locked on yours. His voice was quiet. Smooth. “Something wrong, baby?” You shook your head, a little too quickly. “No. Just…. fixing this side.” He didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. Just watched you. Let you flinch as you tucked a stray strand behind his ear and caught your wrist and held it. Not hard. But enough to remind you, he knew you were shaking. Your eyes flicked past him, just for a second.
Mingi was leaning against the wall a few feet away, dressed in full stage outfit, rings on his fingers, eyes dark and locked on you. Your throat went dry. Because you recognized that look. It wasn’t shy. It wasn’t nervous. It was need. And permission.
Someone called that it was almost time. The group before them was just finishing their final chorus. You could hear the crowd’s roar bleeding through the curtain. Spotlights strobed past the entrance tunnel, casting flashes of white and purple across the floor. ATEEZ stood in their line up, perfect formation, mics on, movements tense with energy. San was bouncing slightly in place, rolling his shoulders, fixing the sleeves of his black stage vest. You stepped up beside him, quickly adjusting the back seam and pulling a strap into place. “You’re good,” you said over the music, giving his shoulder a firm pat.
Then you turned you turned and Mingi was standing just behind San. You handed him his sunglasses for his Wonka look, he took them with a smirk, and then the hat, adjusting the brim slightly before slipping it into place. “You’re not sweating yet,” you murmured, brushing a powder puff lightly under his eyes. “Surprising.” Mingi didn’t answer. Just stared at you. His eyes dragged over your face, your mouth, your throat, watching you like he’d already decided what he was going to do to you once they were off that stage.
Your heart stuttered. And then you felt it. Yunho. Moving in behind you. Quiet. Large. Radiating heat like a shadow draped over your back. His hand ghosted down your side, not touching, but close enough that your body reacted as he leaned in, lips grazing just behind your ear. His voice was low. Velvet. Filthy. “Wonder if you can handle both of us at the same time.” You froze. Mingi’s eyes widened, barely, but he heard it too.
You stood there, rooted, pulse hammering, mouth slightly parted, speechless as the stage manager called, “ATEEZ, standby!” The guys turned, filing into the tunnel, adrenaline high, energy snapping…. And Yunho? He didn’t look back. He just walked ahead, calm and cool, like he didn’t just say something that would haunt you through their entire performance. Your knees almost buckled. Mingi had already turned toward the stage, but his jaw was tight, his ears pink, sunglasses clutched a little too hard in one hand.
And right behind him, calm as ever, Jongho walked by. Didn’t stop. Didn’t look at you. Just passed between you and the stage entrance and muttered under his breath, dry as dust, “I didn’t hear anything.” And then he was gone. Mingi didn’t even try to hide his laugh this time, just let it slip, low and breathless, as he followed the rest of the group onstage.
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The door closed behind you with a soft click. ATEEZ’s room was quieter now, empty chairs, discarded jackets, half empty water bottles lining the counter. The muffled roar of the crowd still bled through the walls as all the groups gathered onstage for the ending, laughter and cheers echoing faintly down the hallway. You leaned back against the counter, hands braced on the edge, staring at absolutely nothing. Your heart was still racing. You could still hear Yunho’s voice. Low. Calm. Certain.
Not whispered like a secret.
Not rushed like a mistake. Deliberate. “Wonder if you can handle both of us at the same time.”
Your stomach flipped. At first, your brain tried to reject it. Shock reflex. He didn’t mean that. It was just dirty talk. He was trying to throw you off. But the longer you stood there alone, the more the pieces locked together. “Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t jealous. He was curious. And worse…. he was planning. Yunho had been sitting with this for days. Turning it over. Testing reactions. Watching both of you unravel while he stayed perfectly in control.
You dragged a hand down your face, breathing shallow. He wants a threesome. The realization hit harder than anything else that night as the chaos of the night was finally thinning out. ATEEZ had finished their final encore wave, mics pulled, outfits half unzipped, energy buzzing high as the group filed toward the loading bay exit. The black vans were already lined up outside.
You moved to follow the others, adjusting your jacket, still buzzing with everything from the stage to that damn thing Yunho whispered earlier. To your realization. But before you could pass the second van a hand caught your wrist. “Baby.” Your heart skipped. Yunho was leaning against the open backseat door, hoodie thrown back on, chest still rising a little from the performance. He was relaxed. Too relaxed. “Where you going?”
You blinked. “KQ. For the afterparty.” He tilted his head with a slow smile. “Nah. You’re coming with me.” You paused. “Back home?” Yunho nodded, stepping aside like it was already decided. “Driver’s waiting.“ You glanced past him, into the van. Mingi was already inside. Sitting in the far seat. Hands folded. Eyes on you. He didn’t look away and your throat went dry as Yunho watched your expression shift, watched it click again, and leaned in, his voice low at your ear, “I’ve been patient long enough.” He kissed the corner of your jaw and opened the door wider. “Get in.”
The van was dark and warm. You sat between them, Yunho on your right, Mingi on your left, your hands tucked in your lap, heart hammering like the beat never left your chest. The sound of the road beneath the tires was soft, the occasional flicker of headlights painting your thighs gold in the dark. No one spoke. Not yet. Yunho had one arm stretched behind your shoulders, fingers grazing the back of your neck, slow and absent. The other? Resting on your thigh. And then… it moved.
You sucked in a quiet breath as his hand slid upward, slowly, confidently, his palm warm over your jeans. “Yunho…” you whispered, voice barely steady. He didn’t stop. Didn’t rush either. Just let his fingers graze the inside of your thigh, just shy of where you were already pulsing with heat. You turned your head, just slightly, meeting his eyes in the dim van light. There was no teasing in them. No smirk. Only truth. “You think I don’t know what’s in your head right now?” he murmured, voice low. “Do you want him?” he asked, cutting gently across your denial. “Because he wants you.”
Your breath caught. You didn’t answer right away. The van rolled on through the quiet streets, the city blurring past the tinted windows, soft flickers of light casting across your thighs, your chest, your lips as Yunho’s hand stayed right where it was, high on your inner thigh, fingers warm, unmoving. Mingi hadn’t said a word. He didn’t have to. You could feel the tension vibrating off both of them, pressing in on either side of you like a fuse lit from both ends. You let it simmer. One breath. Two. Three. Then you shifted. Turned your body slightly toward Yunho, your knee brushing his as you locked eyes with him, steady. Bold. His gaze flickered with challenge. And then you smiled.
“You know…” Your voice was low, sweet and deadly as you turned your head just slightly, enough to speak over your shoulder to Mingi, but not take your eyes off Yunho. “He asked me last night who’s bigger.” Yunho’s jaw twitched and Mingi exhaled sharply beside you, tension snapping through his shoulders as you moved your hands. One to your right. One to your left. Sliding across the front of both of their pants and feeling them. Hard. Thick. Waiting. You bit your lip, eyes still locked with Yunho’s as you gave both of them a light squeeze. Mingi’s breath hitched. Yunho’s nostrils flared. And you hummed, all fake innocence and filthy satisfaction. “Hmm… Guess we’ll see.”
The van pulled to a smooth stop in front of the familiar building, glass and stone rising high into the Seoul night, quiet at this hour except for the soft hum of the streetlights. The driver didn’t say a word. Neither did you. You were the first to move, fingers slipping from where they’d rested across two solid, hard thighs. Your hands still tingled. Your body ached. Your brain felt like static as you stepped out into the cold air, the door clicking shut behind you. And they followed. No hesitation. Yunho on one side, Mingi on the other, silent, steady footfalls across the marble floor of the lobby. The elevator opened instantly and you stepped inside first. Yunho hit the button as Mingi leaned back against the wall. None of you spoke. Not until the doors opened on the 14th floor.
You walked straight to Yunho’s apartment, the one he shared with Yeosang. But Yeosang was at the KQ party, still posing for photos and sipping champagne, completely unaware of what was about to happen in his home. Yunho unlocked the door and pushed it open letting you step inside first. You walked a few steps deeper into the apartment, then turned around, slowly, silently, and looked at them both standing in the entrance.
Yunho locked the door behind him with a soft click, and Mingi toed off his shoes without a word, his eyes never leaving you. Your heartbeat was everywhere. In your throat. In your fingertips. Between your thighs. The silence stretched just long enough to snap something inside you. You looked at Yunho first. His expression was unreadable, jaw tight, gaze sharp, hands casually in the pockets of his pants like he wasn’t seconds away from doing something reckless.
You stepped toward him slowly. Not nervous. Not shy. Just burning. Your eyes didn’t waver. “So… What? You found out…” Another step. “and now you want to watch your best friend fuck me?” The words landed like glass shattering and Mingi stiffened behind you as Yunho’s jaw twitched. But he didn’t look surprised. He stepped closer, voice low, even. “I already watched him fuck you. In my head. Every time I touched you since Jongho told me. I’ve imagined it a hundred ways. I want to know if it’s as filthy as Mingi made it sound…” His hand came up, just his fingertips ghosting along your jaw. “And I want to see it with my own eyes.”
You couldn’t breathe as Yunho leaned in, whispering just beneath your ear. “Doesn’t mean you’re not mine.” Yunho didn’t flinch when you turned from him. Didn’t stop you. Didn’t say a word. He just stepped back. Let you walk slowly, purposefully, across the space between them, until you were standing in front of Mingi whose breath caught and your smile curled. Not sweet. Devious. Predatory. You lifted your fingers to the hem of your shirt, but didn’t tug it off yet. You just played with the fabric, letting Mingi’s eyes drop. Letting him remember. Letting Yunho watch.
“So….. What details did you tell him?” You asked and Mingi’s lips parted. His throat bobbed but he didn’t answer. Didn’t get the chance. You tilted your head, eyes wide in mock innocence, voice low and sharp as sin. “How I rode you until you started whimpering?” Yunho inhaled behind you. Sharp. Audible. “How you almost came the second Jongho walked in on us? You loved that, didn’t you?” You stepped closer and Mingi’s back hit the edge of the couch as you leaned in close, your breath fanning across his ear. “Did you tell him about the mess I made all over your bed?” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “Did you tell him how loud I screamed for you?”
Mingi’s hands twitched at his sides and Yunho’s breath hitched behind you. Still silent. Still watching. Not a breath wasted. Not a muscle flinched as he watched as you stepped into Mingi’s space, smiling like the devil in soft cotton, letting every filthy word hang in the air like smoke. Mingi was already unraveling, he could see it in the way his chest rose too fast, the way his eyes dropped to your mouth and stayed there.
Then you reached down. Two fingers at the waistband of Mingi’s pants. And Yunho felt it. Something snap. “You know what we didn’t do that night?” you asked softly. Your eyes flicked toward Yunho, not seeking permission. Warning him. And then you dropped to your knees and Yunho’s jaw clenched, heat flashing through his chest as you looked up, kneeling in front of Mingi like you’d done it a thousand times, except you hadn’t. That’s what made this worse. Worse for Mingi because, no, the two of you didn’t go down on each other that night. And god he wanted to.
Your fingers hooked into Mingi’s waistband and slowly tugged them down, revealing him already hard, flushed, twitching with need as Yunho’s hand flexed at his side. You didn’t break eye contact with him as you licked your lips. “Never went down on each other,” you murmured, voice a velvet blade and Mingi let out a choked sound. Yunho? He didn’t say a word. But his chest was rising. His knuckles were white. And his dick was hard under his pants as Mingi’s back hit the couch behind him as you knelt between his legs. The room had gone too quiet. Except for your voice. “You gonna whimper for me again, Mingi?”
Yunho’s lungs burned as he watched the way your mouth curved when you said it, like you already knew the answer. Like you wanted to ruin his best friend again right in front of him, just to see how far you could push both of them. And Yunho let you. Didn’t stop you. Didn’t even try. He didn’t want to. Your hand curled around Mingi’s length, slow and deliberate, and Yunho saw Mingi’s head tip back, already fighting it as you leaned in and Yunho lost it. Not visibly. Not yet. But inside? His mind shorted out the second your mouth wrapped around his best friend’s dick.
You were slow with it, sinful. Tongue dragging along the underside like you’d been craving this since the last time, and Yunho couldn’t fucking look away. He didn’t even realize his own hand had curled into a fist at his side until his knuckles ached. Mine. The word whispered in his head, dark and possessive. But his dick throbbed when Mingi gasped, when your mouth took more of him, your hand stroking what your lips couldn’t reach. Yunho saw your eyes flick up, still on him, watching him just as much as he was watching you. It was cruel. It was calculated. And it was working. Because Yunho’s breath hitched the second he heard Mingi whimper. Just like you said he would.
“Fuck….” Mingi groaned, one hand slipping into your hair as he tried not to fall apart too fast, voice already shaky. “Fuck, baby….” Yunho took a step forward. He didn’t even realize he did. His shadow stretched across the floor behind you, quiet as a storm. He moved like smoke, silent behind you, that towering frame casting you in shadow as you stayed on your knees for Mingi, mouth full, hands braced on his thighs, lips already shiny with spit and slick. He didn’t sit. Didn’t crouch. Didn’t even blink. He just stood there, still as stone, eyes locked on the way Mingi’s hand twisted into your hair and started pulling.
You moaned around him, and Yunho swore his pulse ticked in time with it. “Shit….” Mingi hissed through his teeth, hips twitching forward as your mouth swallowed him deeper. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.” Yunho could hear every breath Mingi took, how ragged it got the second he started thrusting, just a little at first. Testing. Watching. Until your throat flexed and you took it, eager, needy, obscene. And Yunho just kept watching. Watched from above as Mingi fucked into your mouth like he’d been waiting to finish what you started since the night it happened, like he’d never forgotten the way you made him lose himself the first time.
Yunho could see your jaw working, throat twitching, spit starting to drip down your chin and still he didn’t move. Didn’t touch. His eyes dropped lower, trailing down your spine to the dip of your waist, that little arch as you adjusted, knees spreading wider on the floor between Mingi’s legs…. Mine. It growled in him this time. Hot. Brutal. Ready. And when you looked back, lips still wrapped around his best friend’s dick, eyes glassy and filthy and so goddamn proud of yourself…. Yunho’s restraint cracked.
His voice came low, dangerous, right behind your ear, “You’re enjoying this way too much, baby.” You pulled off Mingi with a wet pop, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you looked up at Yunho, cheeks flushed, eyes glinting with mischief and something much more dangerous. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” you asked, voice lilting soft and saccharine like sugar melting into something sinful. “Besides…” Your gaze dropped deliberately between the two of them, Mingi, breathless and twitching in your hand, and Yunho, still towering behind you, his jaw clenched so tight you could practically hear the grinding of his teeth. “it would be interesting, wouldn’t it?”
You tilted your head, lashes fluttering as you gave Yunho that deceptively innocent smile, the one he knew better than to trust. “The three of us. All the time. No more secrets.” You rose up on your knees slowly, deliberately, fingers trailing up Mingi’s chest before reaching behind you and finding Yunho’s waistband, teasing at the band of his pants. “just you…” your voice dropped to a whisper as you leaned back against him, breath ghosting over his throat, “and him…” You reached forward again, stroking Mingi lazily, watching the way his head tipped back again. “and me.”
Yunho’s hands finally snapped into motion, gripping your hips, dragging you flush against him. “Interesting?” he echoed, lips brushing the edge of your ear, voice dark as smoke. “That what you think this is?” He pushed against you, hard, dick straining, rubbing right where you needed it. “Baby,” he growled, “you’re about to find out what two of us feels like.”
You didn’t say another word. Just walked away slow, like you had all the time in the world, fingers curling around the hem of your top. The room was already thick with tension, like lightning waiting to strike, but you lit the fuse with one lazy smirk thrown over your shoulder as your shirt hit the floor first. Then your jeans, sliding down your hips with a shimmy that had both Yunho and Mingi frozen in place, staring like they’d just been caught in a spell as you unclipped your bra on the way down the hall, tossed it carelessly on the floor, and then your panties joined the rest, bare skin flashing in the low light as you turned into Yunho’s room without a glance back.
“Man…” Mingi exhaled, half dazed, dragging a hand down his face before cutting a grin at Yunho. “You’re gonna have to get used to sharing.” Yunho’s jaw ticked. He didn’t answer. Just followed. And Mingi, cocky as ever now that the seal was broken, trailed right behind him. By the time they reached the door, you were already climbing onto Yunho’s bed, legs spread, back against the headboard, completely bare and looking at them like you were the one in charge now.
You tilted your head, smile slow and dripping heat as your eyes locked onto Mingi’s. “Come here.” Mingi froze like you’d snapped a leash around his neck, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he started yanking his clothes off with zero finesse, shirt over his head, belt hitting the floor with a sharp clink, pants kicked away like they offended him as Yunho took a step forward too, but your hand came up, palm pressing against his chest before he could reach you fully. “Ah ah,” you teased, breath just a whisper. “You want to watch, right?”
Yunho’s jaw clenched. His pupils were already blown wide, and you felt the low rumble in his chest under your hand. But he didn’t move. Didn’t argue. Just dropped into his gaming chair like a king settling in for his favorite show, spreading his legs wide and dragging one palm over his thigh as Mingi laughed under his breath, already climbing up the bed like a storm rolling in. “You’re playing with fire, baby,” he murmured, voice thick, eyes flicking briefly to Yunho before finding you again. “You sure you’re ready for both of us?”
You didn’t even flinch. You just leaned back, spreading your legs wider with a wicked glint in your eye and Yunho’s breath hitched as he leaned forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees, lips slightly parted. The room was dim, just the soft golden hue from the hallway light spilling in along with his bedside lamp, but it was more than enough to see everything.
Mingi was between your thighs now, hands sliding slow up the outside of them, thumbs brushing dangerously close before finally gripping you tight and pushing your legs open wider. Yunho exhaled through his nose. You were already soaked, the faint sheen catching the light, and Mingi wasted no time. His mouth pressed to your inner thigh first, open mouthed kisses teasing along the skin until his tongue finally licked a path straight up your core. You arched, a sound slipping from your throat, but Mingi just gripped harder, pinning your hips to the bed.
Yunho’s fingers twitched as he watched the way his best friend licked into you like a man starved, burying his face, the wet sounds lewd and sharp in the quiet room. You tangled your hands in Mingi’s hair, but he didn’t slow down, he couldn’t, not when you tasted like that, not when Yunho was right there watching every second of it, jaw tight, dick straining against his jeans. You moaned again, back curving off the bed as Mingi plunged his tongue deeper, one hand slipping under your thigh to keep you still, the other gripping your hip with bruising force.
And Yunho didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched, completely wrecked and only getting worse as your moans broke through the room like thunder, raw and uncontrollable, echoing off the walls as your body writhed under Mingi’s mouth. Yunho’s fingers dug into his thighs, knuckles white as he watched you grind up into Mingi’s face, helpless to stop yourself. Mingi had one arm thrown over your stomach to keep you from squirming too far, his mouth locked onto your clit, sucking, relentless, while two long thick fingers pumped inside you, fast and deep, curling just right.
You screamed his name, your eyes fluttering back, the pressure mounting faster than you could brace for. “F…. fuck… Mingi…” your voice cracked, broken and breathless. Yunho’s chest rose sharply as Mingi groaned into you at the sound, the vibration sending you spiraling as your thighs started to tremble. Your hand gripped his hair tighter, tugging hard, but he didn’t slow down, tongue flicking, lips sealing tighter, fingers pistoning faster. Then everything snapped. Your back arched off the bed, mouth falling open in a cry that bordered on a sob as your orgasm ripped through you, hot and overwhelming and you squirted hard, the wet sound unmistakable as it splashed against Mingi’s chin, the sheets, even your inner thighs. He moaned, licking through it like it was his reward, like he couldn’t get enough.
Yunho cursed under his breath, jaw clenched, eyes never leaving your shaking form as you gasped for breath, legs still twitching from the aftershocks, Mingi dragging his tongue up your slit one last time. Then he looked up at Yunho over your body, his lips slick, eyes dark and smug. Yunho was going to break as you tugged Mingi up by his hair, your mouth crashing into his, hot, messy, tasting yourself on his lips. He groaned against you, hands already skimming your sides, greedy with the way you kissed him like you owned him.
Then, with a smirk against his lips, you pulled back just enough to whisper, “Lay back.” Mingi obeyed instantly, letting you guide him to sit against the headboard, his eyes blown wide as he watched you crawl into his lap, your back to him this time as Yunho shifted where he sat, breath caught in his throat. You didn’t rush. You reached back, teasing yourself with Mingi’s tip first, dragging it between your folds until both of you were whimpering. Then, keeping your eyes on Yunho, you slowly sank down, inch by aching inch, until Mingi was fully inside you, thick and stretching, the kind of stretch that made your head fall back and a low moan rip through your throat.
“Fuuuck,” Mingi groaned, his hands gripping your hips like he might lose it right there. You rolled your hips once, slow and deep, then looked right at Yunho. He was watching, every twitch of your body, every sound you made, the way your fingers dug into Mingi’s thighs to brace yourself. And you held his gaze as you moaned, “Mmm… feels even better than I remembered…” Yunho’s jaw clenched. His eyes were fire. His fists, balled at his sides as you bounced once, slow and purposeful, then again, arching your back just enough for Mingi’s tip to drag along every sweet spot inside you. And still, your gaze stayed locked on Yunho’s. You didn’t even have to say it. You wanted him to see all of it.
Yunho hadn’t moved for minutes, jaw tight, hands clenched at his thighs, eyes burning holes into where Mingi had you moaning in his lap. But the moment your back arched and that breathy little cry left your mouth, he snapped. You didn’t even notice at first, not until the bed dipped in front of you, and suddenly, Yunho was eye level with where you and Mingi were connected, his face so close you could feel his breath on your thighs. “Yunho?” You gasped, hands flying to Mingi’s knees as Yunho gripped overtop of Mingi’s hands on your hips, stilling you just enough before he leaned in, his tongue hot and wet as he licked right up to your clit and sucked it into his mouth like it was his last meal. “F… fuck…. Yunho!” Mingi groaned behind you, tightening his hold and thrusting up deeper into you, the sensation of Yunho’s tongue and Mingi’s dick slamming into you in perfect rhythm making your whole body shudder. You couldn’t even form words, only sounds, loud, desperate, ruined.
Yunho was relentless. His tongue worked you in tight, filthy circles, then flattened and dragged slow before flicking fast, your clit throbbing, swollen, everything pulsing around Mingi until…. “Oh my god…. Yunho, baby… I’m….” You cried out, body clenching, thighs shaking as your orgasm tore through you, soaking both their thighs as Yunho kept going, not letting up for a second while Mingi cursed, voice low and broken behind you. “She’s squeezing so fucking tight,” Mingi groaned, fingers digging into your hips, breath ragged. “You’re gonna make me…. shit.”
You barely had time to breathe before Yunho pulled off you, his lips shiny, voice low and wrecked as he met your eyes. “You wanted both of us all the time, right?” His hands slid up your thighs, slow and claiming. “Then you better keep up, baby.” His shirt hit the floor in seconds, muscles flexing with every movement as he kicked off his pants, eyes dark with hunger. Every inch of his skin was golden in the low lighting, chest rising and falling as he watched you lose yourself on top of Mingi, watched the way your head tipped back, mouth open in a breathless overstimulated moan. Mingi’s grip on your hips turned bruising, his rhythm desperate now. He was thrusting up so hard the headboard rocked against the wall, groaning as he chased that first high.
“Fuck, look at you,” Mingi gasped, sweat clinging to his chest, voice strained and ragged. You were barely holding yourself up, hands braced on his thighs behind you, body trembling as he slammed up into you over and over again. And Yunho was standing at the foot of the bed now, completely bare, slowly stroking himself as he stared, his gaze never leaving the way you and Mingi were connected, the sound of your wetness filling the room with every thrust.
“Fuck, I’m coming,” Mingi groaned through clenched teeth, hips bucking up one last time. You cried out as you felt him pulse inside you, warmth flooding you as his fingers dug deep into your hips, holding you down as he throbbed, breathless and undone beneath you. You were a fucking mess. Sweaty, flushed, soaked and still trembling when Yunho finally climbed back onto the bed, his hands wrapped around your waist as he pulled you back, lips crashing into yours, hot, hungry, claiming.
Mingi was still beneath you, chest rising fast, lips parted as he tried to catch his breath. He looked wrecked already as Yunho’s voice was low, thick with something dangerous. “You want this?” Your breath caught, but you nodded, wide eyed, wanting them both. Every inch of you burned as a smirk tugged at Yunho’s mouth. “Then get back on him.” He turned you gently, one hand skimming your hip as he nodded to Mingi.
Mingi moved fast, anticipation written all over him as he sprawled across the mattress, hair a mess, pupils blown wide as you crawled back into his lap. You guided yourself down onto him again, moaning at the stretch, the fullness, the familiar burn that lit you up from the inside. Yunho stayed behind you, watching the way your body took Mingi in like it was made for him. His fingers ghosted up your spine, leaving chills in their wake. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice gravelly. “Just like that.” You started to move, slow at first, riding Mingi, his hands gripping your hips again, guiding your rhythm. But Yunho’s heat was getting closer. You could feel him, hovering just behind, hands settling on your waist as if to steady you.
You tipped your head back, moaning, caught between both of them already. “Keep going,” Yunho said low, breath warm on your ear. “Don’t stop.” His hands curled around your waist, warm and steady, a contrast to the way your body was already trembling from the intensity of Mingi still beneath you. You could feel him, every twitch, every flex, as he held your hips, still catching his breath from his last release but already hard again, need glinting in his eyes like a promise as Yunho leaned in close behind you, chest pressed to your back, his mouth ghosting over your shoulder as he exhaled, low and heavy.
Mingi’s fingers tightened at your hips again, but his eyes never left Yunho’s, there was an unspoken understanding, a tension older than either of them would admit out loud as Yunho’s hand moved to your lower back, steadying you, the other sliding down to join Mingi’s where they gripped you together. He looked down, his gaze darkening as he watched the place where you and Mingi were joined. “Fuck,” he breathed, more to himself than to either of you. He kissed the curve of your shoulder, lips lingering, and then you felt it, his body shifting behind you, the press of him tentative, slow, careful. Your breath hitched. So did Mingi’s.
“Just breathe,” Yunho whispered, voice hoarse now, rougher, as he moved in tandem with Mingi’s rhythm, both of them grounding you between their bodies, guiding you through every new sensation with practiced hands and reverent attention. Mingi’s hand came up to brush your cheek, voice low and full of awe. “You’re unbelievable…” And Yunho, still behind you, buried his face in your neck, exhaling like he’d been holding it in forever. Your entire body trembled as he pressed forward, his grip on your waist firm but gentle, coaxing you down until a sharp gasp tore from your lips, your hands flying to Mingi’s chest to steady yourself.
Yunho had finally bottomed out, his chest flush against your back, the heat of his breath fanning across your shoulder as both men stilled for a moment, grounding themselves in the overwhelming stretch and pressure of both being inside you. Mingi let out a wrecked, broken sound beneath you, half whimper, half curse, his fingers tightening like a vice on your hips. “Fuck… I can feel him,” he rasped, his voice rough with disbelief, with desire, eyes wide and glassy as they met yours. “I can feel everything.” You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even think. Your body was a mess of shivers and ragged gasps, caught between both of them in a way that shattered every boundary you’d ever known. You felt full, so full it was almost too much, and yet you never wanted it to stop.
Yunho pressed a kiss to your neck, his voice a low, gritted murmur. “You’re taking us so well, baby… You look so good like this.” Mingi nodded, breathless. “She’s perfect. Fucking perfect.” And for a heartbeat, the world narrowed down to just this, three bodies, tangled in heat, in trust, in something deeper neither of them dared to name yet. The first movement was cautious. A slow roll of Yunho’s hips behind you, timed with the way Mingi bucked up beneath you, both men finding a rhythm with careful control, dicks sliding against each other inside you. You whimpered as your body tried to keep up, every nerve lit, every breath shaky and sharp.
“Easy,” Yunho murmured against your shoulder, his fingers stroking soothing circles over your waist, though the tension in his arms betrayed how close he was to losing control. “Just breathe, baby.” Mingi was breathing heavy under you, his hands slipping from your hips to your thighs, thumbs brushing up and down as he whispered, “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. We’ve got you.” They started to move again, deeper now, more coordinated. The sensation was staggering. The push and pull, the stretch and friction, their bodies perfectly in sync inside you. You couldn’t hold in the cry that broke from your throat, your head dropping forward as your whole body clenched. “I… oh my god….” was all you could manage before your orgasm slammed into you like a wave. No warning, no chance to stop it. You shattered between them, legs trembling, fingers digging into Mingi’s shoulders as you pulsed around both of them.
“Holy shit…” Mingi choked out, groaning through gritted teeth as you clamped down hard, dragging a broken moan from his chest. “Fuck, look at her,” Yunho hissed behind you, pressing a kiss to your spine, voice wrecked and reverent. They didn’t stop. They couldn’t. Not when you were falling apart like that between them, so beautiful, so undone, and all theirs.
The moment you slumped forward, barely coherent, Mingi’s hand slid up your back, trembling as he tried to steady himself. “You okay?” he rasped, eyes glazed. But your whimper in response wasn’t one of pain, it was need. “More,” you choked out. “Don’t stop…. please.” Yunho gritted his teeth behind you, sweat clinging to his skin as he pulled back just enough to thrust forward again, watching your whole body jolt. Mingi moaned beneath you, his hands tightening around your waist. “Fuck,” Mingi gasped. “I can’t… I’m not gonna last….” He was too deep, too far gone, the heat and pressure and sensation driving him wild. He held out for maybe three more thrusts before his head fell back and his body tensed under yours. “Y/N…” he gasped, his whole body shuddering as he came hard, hips jerking up involuntarily, buried deep. He grunted, almost in pain, chest rising and falling like he couldn’t breathe. And he didn’t move. Still inside you, stuck, his arms wrapped around your waist as he panted, murmuring broken apologies and praise against your skin. “So good, you’re so good, baby… fuck, I can’t move…”
Yunho reached around you, lifting your body gently, adjusting you just enough to shift the angle. Mingi whimpered, overstimulated and overwhelmed beneath you, his nails digging into the sheets. But Yunho was relentless now, each thrust more desperate than the last, trying to hold himself together as your body started to tremble again. Mingi was moaning now, helpless, his legs twitching under you as Yunho used your body to chase his own high, every deep stroke brushing against that same spot inside you until your walls clenched again, tighter than before.
You cried out, a sudden second orgasm crashing over you, your whole body shaking as your nails dragged down Mingi’s chest. He whimpered in pure overstimulation, hips barely able to twitch as he held you close. Yunho growled low behind you, his rhythm faltering as he surged forward one last time, his name slipping from your lips just as he buried himself to the hilt and came with a deep, broken moan. The only sounds left were your soft whimpers, Mingi’s hitched breathing, and Yunho’s chest pressed to your back as he wrapped his arms around you both.
You weren’t sure how long you sat there, boneless and trembling, caught between both of them in a tangle of heat and sweat. Every nerve in your body still sparked like live wires, Mingi twitching beneath you with the occasional whimper as he tried to remember how to breathe. Yunho finally exhaled behind you, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before slowly, carefully pulling out. You whimpered at the loss, already so sensitive, and he hushed you gently, his arms circling around your waist to ease you forward.
“Hang on, baby,” he murmured, guiding you off Mingi with care. Mingi let out a small, choked sound at the movement, collapsing fully onto the bed with one arm flung over his eyes like he’d just been hit by a train as Yunho pulled you into his lap, your legs shaky and useless, your skin flushed and slick as you slumped against his chest, head resting on his shoulder, utterly wrecked.
He ran a hand lazily down your back, kissed your temple, and then, because of course he did, his voice dropped into that smug, teasing drawl that made you want to both slap and kiss him. “So…” He tilted his head, eyes full of mischief. “Who’s bigger?”
Your head jerked up with a groan, shooting him a look even as a tired laugh escaped your lips. “Oh my god.”
Mingi peeked out from beneath his arm, blinking blearily. “Happy new year.”
a/n: thanks to juno for planting the brainworms for this
minjoong x f!reader
thinking about mingi & hongjoong...
they are so mean to you.
they find so much pleasure in torturing you, seeking out your limits, and happily pushing you past them with a grin on their face and their hands all over you. they learned recently that you cannot handle them both at the same time without shattering like porcelain. melting against their bodies like the heat of their skin was too much, suffocating between them like some kind of trapped animal.
it has become their new favorite way of making you go stupid.
hongjoong lies back on the bed, his legs spread nice and wide to accommodate your body between them, lying lazily with your back against his chest. his lips buried against your neck or whispering next to your ear, kissing the side of your throat, or praising you against your temple. his hands roam about your body, travelling up your sides, along your shaking arms, up to pinch your nipples, and rolling them between his fingertips. his ankles hook on yours to keep your legs spread pretty and open, all for him.
mingi, who leans over your body, his hands hooked nice and hard on your hips, squeezing so tight it bruises. his head dropped as he watched his body roll and move, meticulously gliding his big cock in and out of your drooling cunt. you’re so wet it leaves a shiny mess on his lower abdomen each time his hips meet yours, and you’re creaming around the base of him each time he sinks in so deep that hongjoong can feel your shoulders tense with every drag.
mingi lets low, breathy groans slip past his swollen lips, never ripping his gaze from your pussy. enamoured with how you seemed to just suck him right back in each time he pulled back, like your body had a mind of its own. your sweet, helpless moans awakened that urge in him to drag more sounds out of you, shifting the angle of his hips every so often to keep you on your toes, never giving you the chance to relax.
and hongjoong was so sick in your ear and against your skin. pressing wet, moaning kisses against your neck and below your ear, his fingers ghosting down the front of your body so softly, teasing you with fleeting rolls against your puffy clit.
“fuck… please keep doing that.” mingi sighs to hongjoong, letting his head fall back for a second to really relish in the feeling of your warm walls around his cock.
hongjoong laughs softly against your ear and presses his palm flat against your lower stomach, just enough pressure to put a weight on your bladder, just enough that he could feel mingi stroking in and out of your guts beneath it. “doing what, min?” he coos, dragging his other hand up the side of your waist, squeezing and kneading and feeling all of you like you were some kind of stress toy.
“keep talkin’ to her.” mingi purrs, pressing his fingers against your hips in a wave motion, lowering them a bit further to grab purchase on your thighs to spread you even wider.
“she gets so goddamn tight when you do.”
you bite your bottom lip and moan lowly when the warmth of hongjoong’s hand spreads over your belly, and he gently nips at your earlobe when mingi starts to push himself into you even deeper, grinding his hips against yours and whining lowly when you gush around him even more.
“you like me talking to you, hm pretty baby?” hongjoong whispers against your ear so low, so fucking low, your entire body shudders against his chest, and you can hear mingi moan so loud, and it makes your stomach clench.
you can’t even reply, and he’s pressing his hand harder against your stomach. lights start blinking behind your eyes, and you break out into a drunk sweat. “such a good, slick girl for us, aren't you?”
the hand on your waist moves again, down over your hips, over the top of your thigh, before it slips between your legs and he finds your clit once again, but this time he makes no move to stop as he begins to rub, languid, pressurized upward circles against it. your back arches against hongjoong’s chest, and your legs shake, but hongjoong’s strong legs keep you spread open so mingi can keep fucking you full of him.
you feel mingi twitch inside of you, and he’s letting his head fall forward, his eyebrows knit together in pure bliss, and his lips parted in bassy grumbles as you tighten so much around him he swears he’s drooling on your stomach.
your head starts to lean back on your neck against hongjoong’s shoulder, but he won’t let you. he moves his hand away from your clit and brings it up to press his palm flat against the back of your skull.
“nuh uh, sweet girl. down. watch him fuck you, baby. look at how soaked you are.” and he pushes your head back down, forcing you to stare at mingi’s lower body. his body rolling as he pushes his cock into you with deep, calculated strokes, strings of slick clinging to his lower v-line. his big hands holding you nice and open, his nails leaving crescent moons in the flesh of your thighs. you whine pathetically when you also see the way hongjoong holds his hand down against your stomach, like he was trying to pin you in place between them, keeping you from running. it was all just too much.
“f-fuck..! i c-cant-” you cry out, and mingi is first to shoot you down. with a rough, pinpointed thrust, he’s bringing his hand up and then back down, landing a burning slap on your cunt as he starts to fuck into you with nasty purpose.
“you can, and you are.” he snips at you, and hongjoong ruts his hard on against your lower back, feeling mingi’s cock move in and out of you so roughly beneath his palm through the flesh of your stomach, it was driving him mad.
“don’t be so rough, you’re gonna hurt her, you know how big you are.” hongjoong pretends to care, kissing beneath your ear and whining softly just to get you to clench tighter.
mingi clicks his tongue, leaning down just far enough that he can talk to you against your other ear.
“she’ll be alright. won’t you, baby?” he grits out through a low moan, emphasizing his point with a deep roll of his hips, pressing so heavily into you it makes your limbs twitch like you’ve been shocked.
when he feels you suck him in so much stronger than any other time that night, he just knew your brain was mush at this point, and drags his tongue up the side of yout throat, ending his journey with a kiss to the shell of your ear and a vulgar murmur against your skin. “nasty fuckin girl.”
then he’s pulling back, completely focused on ruining your pretty cunt with his cock, using you like a living, breathing toy. hongjoong presses his nose flush against the vein in your neck as he talks to you.
“he’s so deep inside of you, sweetheart, i can feel him.”
“i’m kind of jealous right now, he's got you making such a sticky mess on his dick, huh?”
“c’mon, baby, get louder, moan for us… like this.”
and he’ll mock you with whiny, playful moans of his own against your ear, sending shockwaves to your cunt. the pinches on your clit an encouragement to keep performing for them, the deep drag of mingi’s tip against that brain-numbing spot a plea to keep you moaning like a slut.
“once min’s done, we can switch. and he can play with your pussy and talk to you all sweet while i fuck you so full of me you’ll start leaking all over the place.” you groan loudly, and your spine arches beautifully as you feel it, your orgasm travelling from your lower belly all throughout your body. your skin tingling and your brain fogging, your nerves on high alert as you cum all over mingi’s cock.
“oh– fuck. she liked that, huh? didn’t you baby…” mingi pauses for a brief moment, overwhelmed by how stunning you looked cumming all over the two of them.
“there we go, baby, that's it. get it allll out, keeping cumming.” hongjoong slows the movement on your clit to light, teasing brushes. each time he pushes up against the sensitive bud, your entire body jerks between them.
before long, mingi’s cumming too, slowing his hips and pressing nice and deep into you, making sure you stay plugged with him as he fills you up, groaning so low you could feel your ribcage shiver. he pulls out with the wettest, slickest sound and sighs heavily, immediately getting on his knees and shoving his face between your thighs.
with a hungry moan, he’s splitting your lips with his thick tongue, obscenely cleaning you up with fervor, his hands sinking into your thighs and holding you down against the bed so you don’t shake too much.
it's all a blur, but suddenly you’re moving, and you’re lying flat on the bed, no warm body behind you to keep you upright. and you lean yourself up on shaky elbows to see what's going on, and you nearly pass out.
hongjoong and mingi are both in front of you, hongjoong's fingers gripping the hair on the back of mingi’s head iron tight, and he pulls him in for the nastiest, greediest kiss you’ve ever witnessed. and you are absolutely dumbstruck.
you can see every flip of their tongues, the way mingi seems to melt against him, and you can see both of their cocks jump and twitch. tasting the mixture of mingi’s cum and your arousal, hongjoong smiles against his lips like some kind of slut.
you feel like it lasts forever before they're pulling away from each other, a thin trail of saliva snapping between them.
they’re both breathing heavily, and as if they were reading each other’s minds, hongjoong cocks his head to the side, and mingi moves. he lifts your body off the bed and takes hongjoong’s previous place, sitting on the bed and pulling your back against his chest, molding your body to his front. you can feel his soaked cock twitch against your backside, and his lips press heavily against the heat of your neck.
his hands grab your hips, and his legs spread you nice and wide once again, and you watch as hongjoong slots himself between your thighs as he’s licking the leftovers off the corner of his mouth, his lips parted in a small, lust-drunk smile. his hands find your thighs as he leans down and slowly slides the length of his cock through the slick mess of your cunt, hot and heavy against you. and you feel like you’ve been shot, point-blank range.
mingi’s hand snakes forward, and he grips your jaw in a firm, controlling hold, forcing your head to stay angled towards hongjoong, and you whimper out of what can only be described as fear and anticipation.
“my turn,” hongjoong murmurs breathlessly, playfully, and right as he’s sinking into your pussy, mingi clamps his jaw down on your shoulder, moaning against your skin as the pain of his teeth breaking your skin and the pleasure of hongjoong’s cock splitting you open sends your poor brain into complete and utter overdrive.
BIMBO SERUM. temporarily transform into the dumbest, sluttiest, horniest version of yourself—results guaranteed every time!
PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! heavy dom/sub dynamics, tag teaming (top!atz), gangbang, unprotected sex, cnc, consensual drugging, aphrodisiacs, mean doms!ateez. drugged up bimbo reader. disgusting, nasty, probably unethical, but fully consensual. this chapter: above warnings plus rough unprotected vaginal, anal and oral sex. heavy subspace. titles (master & sir) dehumanisation, objectification, bimbofication, infantilisation. extremely degrading and dehumanising language. pussy, ass & face slaps. mentions of pregnancy. one moment of reader saying she can’t take any more and being dismissed, but this is all in line with the scene. she has a safeword and they are monitoring her for any indication that she isn’t managing. none of this is scientifically accurate and this serum does not exist, but just to be safe: DONT DO THIS. this would not be safe irl, and is only okay in fiction. in reality, someone under the influence of substances cannot meaningfully consent.
you have been appropriately warned of the content ahead. your triggers are your responsibility. i am not responsible for the content you consume. i am not your babysitter and hate is blocked and deleted.
words: 10.4k
“Are you serious?”
The disbelief in Hongjoong’s voice isn’t surprising—nor, really, are the astounded expressions on the others’ faces. You expected that. You’d have been a little worried if they hadn’t reacted like that.
Still though, the abounding silence, thick and uncertain, is a bit hard to reckon with. For a moment it makes you anxious—perhaps, you think for a second, you’ve finally pushed too far; finally come to them with something they don’t know how to hold or what to do with.
It lasts all of a moment before you remember.
They want this as much as you do. You can tell. You picked up on the signals a long time ago.
When they’d pound into you with your wrists pinned to the bed and your eyes wide and glassy with submission, and they’d coo down at you, telling you how stupid you are as though it’s the highest praise they can think of. When they’d get you on the edge of orgasm after hours of teasing, and ask you a basic question they know you’re too fucked out to answer just to see you try and fail. When you whimper out that soft, sweet “I don’t know” and they cum faster and harder than they have in weeks.
You know they like you dumb. You know they want you dumber.
You admit, though, this is more than that.
Much more.
You nod, shifting your weight awkwardly between your feet. Trying to seem confident and failing exponentially. “I’m very serious.”
Yunho holds the vial up to his eyes again, turning it in his hands like the words on the label haven’t quite sunk in yet. He doesn’t look particularly eager, but he also doesn’t look…categorically opposed, either. That’s all you’d really hoped for right now, with such an outlandish proposition. His brows furrow, concerned. “Is this safe?”
“Of course,” you say quickly. “It’s totally legit. FDA approved and stuff.”
“Why didn’t I know this was a thing?”
You can’t help but giggle slightly; a smile flickers on his face at the sound. “I mean,” you mumble, “it’s not like there’d be billboards, is it? It’s specialist stuff. You have to really want to find it.”
”Right.” He hums, looking a little less confused than before; the others seem to relax ever so slightly, too, but their eyes still move between the vial and you like they’re still trying to reckon with it; with the fact that you, once so shy and sweet and shaking with nerves when they first met you, could even want, let alone press for this.
You can’t quite believe it, either.
“How long does it last?” Seonghwa’s voice is soft, still a little concerned but you recognise the slight lilt to it that always gives him away—something between interest and excitement and outright arousal.
They may not admit it now, but you all know, really, that if they truly were opposed to this the conversation would have been over a long time ago. Certainly before you went through the entire process of procuring it.
No, they want it, you know they do. But you also know just how much enjoyment they get out of watching you beg. Making you work for it.
“It should last a week,” you say. “But it can be shorter or longer the first time you take it. Depends on how your body adjusts to it.”
“And if it goes wrong?” He presses. “If you react poorly to it or we need you back?”
“There’s an antidote.”
“Where?”
“The box it all came in, in my room. There’s a video, too, on how to use it safely, but they ran a lot of tests on me and there shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Still,” Hongjoong says, finally speaking up again. “You never know.”
“Hence the antidote.”
Yunho presses the vial carefully back into your hand, gently folding your fingers closed around it to make sure it’s secure before pulling away. The small, fleeting touch is as electrifying as it always was. “We’ll need to talk about it more,” he says softly. “Go put this back in the box then bring it all back down here, alright? We’ll have a look at it.”
You swore you wouldn’t get your hopes up, but the familiar tinge to his voice—ordering, not asking—makes excitement pulse instinctively. And the fact that he clearly, as he always does, knows exactly what he’s doing and what it does to you, his words and tone and demeanour all by design, has you verging on desperate.
God, you hope they say yes. And soon.
You run to your room as ordered, retrieving the box and bringing it back downstairs. You hand it carefully to Hongjoong, who places it gently down on the coffee table before turning to you with an expectant look on his face. “Well,” he cocks an eyebrow, “run along, then.”
You hover for a moment, unsure; you hadn’t expected to be sent out. You open your mouth to speak when you’re cut off.
“What are you waiting for?” Wooyoung's voice comes sharp. “You were told to leave. So leave.”
“I—”
“You weren’t asked to talk, either,” he says, cutting you off again. “Are you sure you need this serum? Seems like you’re dumb enough already.”
You see a couple of them bite back a laugh. You hold back a moan. “Take it easy, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong says mildly, but the stern look he sends to the younger man is barely so. Transparently fake. He turns his attention back to you, face all softness now. “Go on, sweetheart. This is no conversation for little girls like you. Go play and we’ll fetch you when we want you, yeah?”
You can’t help but clench a little, thighs tightening against each other. God, the way he talks to you—firm and sweet and condescending—could melt you into a puddle right here on the floor. You’re certain your entire face and chest is flushed, burning as you mumble your assent and scurry out of the room.
You sit down at the table, fiddling with the leaflet in your hand; folding down the corners, over and over again to pass the time. The bold, bright pink letters make your stomach twist in excitement already with the promise of what might—you pray—await you next.
Bimbo Serum. Temporarily transform into the dumbest, sluttiest, horniest version of yourself—results guaranteed every time!
“You need to sign this.”
Jongho slides the sheet of paper across the table towards you. Your eyes filter down the page, slow and sure, as silence abounds.
It’s… thorough. Careful, certainly. Reassuring. You don’t know when they drew it up; half an hour after you were sent away they summoned you back to tell you they were in, and now, a few minutes later, here you are.
That’s just what they do, though, really—what they’ve always done with you. They take care of everything before you even know there’s anything to be done. It’s why you’re so comfortable with the idea of switching your brain off entirely with them—in a much smaller way, you already do.
A contract, the title reads, between them and you. “To ensure everything goes smoothly,” Hongjoong adds when you read it aloud. He watches your face carefully; studies it. Searching for the smallest twinge of doubt. He finds none. “The video you gave us recommends it. Give it a read, yeah?”
The words on the page are hot and heavy even read silently, but you force them out from around the lump forming in your throat. You can do this; you want to show them you can do this.
You can’t quite force any kind of confidence into your voice, though.
“Until such time as the serum wears off or the antidote is administered, the submissive entrusts herself to the care and authority of the dominants. The submissive agrees to cede all control, body and mind, to the dominants; in return, the dominants agree to care for and control the submissive responsibly, and accept any and all liability for anything that may occur during this period.”
“Standard stuff,” Jongho says. “Safety things.”
You nod, swallowing, already dizzy. The words turn warmer and fuzzier in your tummy the further on you read. “The submissive accepts that, during the period the serum is in effect, she will have little control or understanding of what is happening to her. She will not be able to make her own choices. She entrusts the dominants to make the right choices for her; in return the dominants agree to keep her health, safety and happiness in mind when making those choices.
“During the period the serum is in effect, the submissive’s sole duty is the pleasure of the dominants. The dominants are under no obligation to provide her pleasure in return.
“The submissive will accept everything the dominants give her. The dominants will never give her more than they know she can handle. If the submissive says her safeword at any point, the antidote will be administered without delay.”
“Well?” San pipes up after a moment. “Do you agree?”
You nod. The tension in your throat is so thick it catches the words as you try to voice them like flies helpless in a cobweb. Mingi curls his hand around yours from where he’s seated next to you. “Breathe,” he murmurs. “It’s just us.”
“Yeah,” you nod. “I— I agree. This sounds good.”
“And your safeword?” Hongjoong prompts. “What is it?”
“Lipton.” The corners of your mouth twitch, a small, nervous smile. It was Seonghwa’s idea—the drink you’d been carrying in your hands the day you met them for the first time. The one you’d nervously sipped at while they spoke; the one he’d barely been able to take his eyes off of as you wrapped your lips around the top.
“Good,” Hongjoong says. Already you see the usual Hongjoong—concerned, almost worrying, a little tense but still calm and collected—fade out and give way to the side he shows only with you.
Scheming. Sadistic. Predatory.
Authoritative, but in a deeper, sicker way than he is with the others.
Fear and arousal crawls under your skin in tandem, a living thing in the bottom of your stomach.
“How do you want to take it?” Jongho asks. “The serum.”
“In a drink,” you reply. “Water ideally. A glass.”
Seonghwa takes the box over to the counter, carefully pulling out the vial and stirring it into the clear water then walking back over to you. He places it down in front of you; the sound of it landing gently on the table makes you jump, already on edge. You don’t miss the way his lips quirk.
“Drink up,” Seonghwa says. A quiet, gentle order. Softness melting away little by little like snow in the sun.
You swallow your nerves and pick up the glass. The liquid is pink now; of course it is, you suppose, isn’t the the colour of bimbos? You hold it up to your lips with a shaking hand—before you can take the first sip Yunho has snatched it from your grip. “You’re shaking,” he says, answering the question you’d no time to ask. “And you want to take it fast. Let me do it for you. Head back.”
With his other hand he cups the back of your head, helping you tilt it back. It collides gently with something large; a soft but solid presence behind you. You recognise the cold steel of Mingi’s rings where his hands reach to cup your chin. Holding you in place for Yunho to put you under.
“Mouth open,” Yunho orders. You part your lips and let him raise the glass to them. The first drop of water comes cold and sweet; raspberry, it tastes like. “Drink.”
He doesn’t go too fast, doesn’t overwhelm you with it but he’s firm, unrelenting. Mingi holds you in place while you swallow it little by little. “That’s it,” he rasps. “That’s a good little girl. Under you go, baby.”
The others watch in silence, unmoving. Hongjoong’s eyes are blazing. Wooyoung curls his hands into fists against the table as your body grows more and more pliant in Mingi’s arms.
“Good,” Yunho encourages. You’re almost finished now and already the effects start to creep in. “Finish it, doll, all of it. Get nice and dumb for us. Stupid and ready for cock, yeah?”
The last drop goes down easier than the first, like your throat’s accustomed to it now—opened up to it. Is that an effect? You don’t know. There was a long list of them, of course—but aside from the list of risks and side effects the doctor has insisted you take heed of, you wanted to keep the specifics as a surprise.
“Let’s go to the living room,” Wooyoung suggests. “We’ll want her comfortable for when she starts going under.”
”Good idea,” Hongjoong says. Yunho and Mingi help you up from your seat, steadying you on your feet when you falter and walking you through before you really know what’s happening. Their grip on you is so firm that you think you could stop walking right now, legs giving out, and you’d still keep moving between them. They walk with you into the living room then step back, silent, watching the way you try to keep yourself steady.
The others get settled, chatting amongst themselves while you stand there aimlessly. You already feel a little dazed; a little lost without their guiding hands. Hongjoong fixes you with an expression that’s half curious, half expectant. “Well?”
“It should start to work soon,” you say softly. “But I’m not sure how long.”
You shuffle towards where he’s sat on the couch and let him pull you into his lap with a small squeak of surprise. His arms wrap around you, his hold firm but gentle; familiar, his hands rubbing small patterns across your skin like he often does. “There we go,” he mumbles. “Relax, angel.”
A few of the others gather around where Yeosang sits cradling you against his chest. Their expressions are gentle, but you see the excitement in their eyes; the tension held tight in their chests like they’re trying to hold themselves back.
They must see the slight confusion on your face, though; must see you wondering why Yeosang seems to be almost trying to soothe you to sleep, because they smile with brief amusement. “The video says you’ll slip easier if you’re comfortable,” Yunho, standing in front of you, explains gently. He reaches down to cup your cheek, smiling when you nuzzle into the touch. “We need you nice and relaxed so you can turn off that brain for us. Get you in your rightful place, hm? Nice and dumb the way you’re supposed to be.”
“She’ll look so pretty with her eyes empty,” Mingi hums. “Nothing on her mind except cock. I can’t wait.”
They’ve always been good at this—talking to you, breaking and wearing you down with their words. Just the low, gentle hum of their voices and the assurance and authority of their words is enough to turn your brain to mush and your limbs to jelly on an ordinary day; pliant and vulnerable and putty in their hands.
Today, though, it’ll be even deeper. You wait expectantly for the fog—or so the leaflet described it—to arrive; for the warmth and fuzziness to creep through your body until you’re enveloped and caught in it like thick smog.
It starts in your tummy. They notice it before you do—your eyes drooping. Breathing slowing down. Body relaxing into Yeosang’s hold just a little bit more. The distant look in your eyes like you’re a hundred worlds away.
“There she goes,” San coos. He's next to Yunho, you realise. You hadn’t noticed his presence at all. “How you feeling, angel?”
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to gather your thoughts but they scatter like mice every time you reach for them. Your words are choked, forced out through the thickening fog.
Fuck, it works fast.
“I…I feel…”
Floaty, you want to say. But the words are gone, vanished into thick, hot air. You wrap Yeosang’s shirt around your fists and cling to him like he’s your last lifeline.
“Oh baby,” San smiles. You feel his grip on your chin, soft but firm, tilting your head up to look at him. “Can’t even talk now, hm? Just so small and stupid, aren’t you?”
“No point trying to get her to respond now, San.” Jongho is sat some distance away, watching the scene unfold with well-disguised interest. His voice is mild; eager, clearly, but still unbothered. It’s absolutely delicious. “She’s too stupid to understand anything we say. Just a pair of holes at this point.”
“Three holes, actually,” Seonghwa says. “Baby slut’s gonna want her asshole used too, I’m sure.”
“Of course she will.” San nods appreciatively, his gaze running up and down your body like he’s drinking you in; he grabs one of your tits and pinches at the nipple with enough pressure to make you gasp. “Pretty little holes, aren’t they? All she’s good for. Empty headed little bimbo, she barely even knows who’s touching her.”
He flicks at your forehead as if to prove his point, like he’s expecting to hear the echo of a hollow, emptied out head. It hurts, stings, but all you can do is push your lips out in a soft, pathetic little pout.
“I like her much better like this,” Mingi laughs. “Dumb and docile. Fuck, can I use her first?”
“Not sure it matters,” San says, shrugging a little. “She’ll be stuffed full and leaking soon enough, but yeah, sure Min. I get her asshole first though. Hasn’t been used in a while. I wanna break it in.”
You just watch, silently, as they discuss you and your undoing like you’re not even there. It’s not a conversation you could join in on now if you wanted to.
You hear them, of course; you even understand what they’re saying, but something is different. Distant. Clouded. Like it doesn’t quite reach you on the level it did before.
Fuck, you love this feeling.
Yeosang pushes two fingers past your lips and you accept them without thought, suckling at them like you’ve been starved for it. Drool spills from your mouth and onto your lap but you neither notice nor care.
He does, though. Sees the thoughts slipping from you as easily as if they were never yours to begin with. “That’s it,” he croons. “You go nice and little for me while your masters decide what to do with you.”
Master. It’s not a foreign term to you—Yunho’s known to favour it sometimes, especially when he’s in one of his moods, and though he’d never admit it it always pushes Hongjoong to his orgasm just a little faster.
But now it’s all of them, and so casually.
There’s no pause or focus or fanfare around it; no more attention to it than any other word. It’s just a fact now; a simple one: they’re your masters, with absolute authority and responsibility.
It feels warmer and safer and more thrilling the further you sink into it; you push it out, a whimpered “master” that sits like sugar on your tongue and Yeosang groans. You feel him twitching just slightly against your ass.
“That’s right,” he praises, pressing his lips against your ear. “That’s my name, sweetheart. Our name. You remember that, yeah?”
You nod. “Yeah, master.”
“Good girl.“
Then there’s another hand on you, wrapping around your thigh and squeezing the bare, tender flesh. You try to turn your head to whoever’s just sat down next to you but it just lolls down against your shoulder—too dumb to hold your own weight. Arousal and helplessness twists in your gut in tandem and you hear Yeosang chuckle, lifting your chin carefully in his hands and tilting your head towards the newcomer.
Seonghwa looks beautiful. You forget that sometimes, just how radiant he is; but now with your mind blank and susceptible and unable to process anything but that which is immediately in front of you, it’s all you can see.
He cups your cheeks, held firm between strong, soft hands, and all you can feel or think about is the safety of his touch. Your awareness is still slipping, pushed further and further, the drug still reaching its full power, but that’s the one thing you know for certain, unwaveringly.
Seonghwa is safe. They all are. Even if it takes you a moment to recognise the faces as they appear in front of you, you know they’re safe through instinct alone.
The fact that that safety so often involves breaking you, pulling you apart at the seams and remaking you as they want you, only makes it more real.
“Sweet thing,” Seonghwa murmurs. “You gone nice and stupid for your masters?”
You moan. “Master…”
His lips curl, a small, leering smile. “That’s it,” he coos. “Our good girl, finally understanding what her purpose is. Took you long enough, didn’t it?”
You whimper, feeling strangely chided; you’re not sure what you’ve done to earn his ire, but that’s the tone—sweetly condescending but with a sternness and a danger that drips from every word—that he uses when you’ve fucked up and are about to be punished.
Yeosang clicks his tongue, but not at you. “Hwa, don’t scare her. She’s so little now, she doesn’t understand you’re just teasing.” He pats your head gently; he seems to delight in the way your expression stays unchanging like you haven’t even noticed. “Hwa was just joking, sweetheart,” he tells you. “He’s not mad at you for taking so long to accept you’re stupid, baby. It’s perfectly normal not to want this; to keep trying to use your brain ‘cause you can’t accept you were never meant to. But you’re so good for finally figuring it out, honey. So clever, baby.”
You start to whine after a moment, though you’re not sure why exactly; there’s a discomfort, an unsettled feeling brewing in your stomach now that you don’t understand. All you know is you want it to stop. You want your masters to fix it. “Hwa,” you sob. “Master.” You clutch your stomach with shaking hands and he presses his own hand atop them, comforting.
“Oh baby,” Seonghwa coos. “Does your tummy hurt, sweetheart?”
You blink, processing. Was it that obvious? “Y-yeah…” You hiccup.
His expression softens further. His eyes do the opposite. He takes his hand away to push two fingers into your mouth and lets you suckle at them like a newborn kitten; your body relaxes a little, though not much. A temporary soother. “That’s it,” he hums. “Feel better?”
A little, you think. But not nearly enough. The pain’s gone from biting to throbbing but it’s still there, still hurting. Your eyes are welling up and you shift uncomfortably in Yeosang’s lap; you feel him hardening beneath you but you’re too unsettled and…and off to process it or what it means. Seonghwa pulls you off of him and into his lap, cradling you against his chest and bouncing you on his knee. “It must be so painful,” he says, all sympathy. “Do you know what it is?”
A beat of silence. You stare up at him and suckle at his fingers even more desperately, as if you’re hoping it’ll somehow ease your pain further. He chuckles. “No, of course you don’t,” he says. “That was a silly question, wasn’t it? Little baby doesn’t know anything anymore. It’s emptiness, baby. That feeling in your tummy. Bimbos get it sometimes, when they haven’t been filled in a while. You need a dick in your cunt to make it go away.”
“Emptiness,” you echo. “Why?”
“Why?” He repeats. His lips stretch briefly into a small smile. “Because you’re a slut, baby. A stupid slut. You can’t live without dick anymore. When you don’t have it your body starts shutting down.”
Shutting down? No. Nonono. You don’t want that. You don’t want to die. You need— you need…
There’s low laughter from above you; you tilt your head upwards and see Yunho staring down at you with a gaze that feels predatory. “Look at her trying to use her brain,” he grins. “Trying to come up with a thought. She still doesn’t realise she’s too stupid to do that now. Trying so hard, aren’t you?”
“Hard,” you repeat.
“You’ll feel better when you stop, you know,” Yeosang says gently. “When you give up.”
“She won’t have a choice soon,” Seonghwa smiles. “C’mon, precious. Don’t fight it. You wanted this, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let it do its job, honey. You’re doing well.”
He’s still talking, you think, but not to you; you listen to the sound of his voice without processing the words and let it pull you down deeper.
Then it’s silent. You think.
Seonghwa adjusts you so you’re lying on your back and staring directly up at him. He pinches your cheek—soft, gentle, then a little harder. You do nothing.
He pokes your nose with the tip of his finger. Nothing.
Waves his hand back and forth, then snaps his fingers. Nothing.
He smiles. Anticipating. “Okay,” he says. “She’s gone.”
“Let’s put her to use, then,” Yeosang says.
Seonghwa stands, keeping you cradled against his chest, and turns to the others. They’ve edged closer too; like they’re closing in and preparing to strike. “How do we want her?”
“Put her on her knees,” Hongjoong decides. “I want her looking up at us. Wanna see the emptiness in her eyes.”
The noise Yunho makes is guttural. Fuck. You knew he’d be the absolute worst for this. “Let me do it,” he grunts. Your head lolls back when you’re pulled from Seonghwa’s arms but Yunho catches and holds it. He puts you down carefully; you slump a little when he first lets go and he tugs your hair, pulling you up straight.
“No,” he growls. “You hold your weight. Just like this. Keep your head up; I taught you your posture.”
“Easy,” Seonghwa says—he’s laughing, though. “She’s just a bimbo, Yunho, stop expecting so much from her.”
“The serum doesn’t affect her physically,” Yunho argues. He snaps his fingers in front of your eyes just as Seonghwa had done; the response he gets is the same. A slow, soft blink like you haven’t even noticed it. “She knows how to walk and sit and stand, she just doesn’t know that’s what she needs to do. She needs to be told. She’ll keel over in a slump if no one tells her not to. Won’t you?”
He’s looking at you again now. You blink, slowly, then nod. Yunho smiles, gripping your jaw in his hand and tilting it forwards a little, crouching down to meet your eyes. “Hi, bimbo.” His expression is soft; his words purred like praises. “Ready to serve me?”
You grunt, soft. More of a whimper. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Don’t make her guess,” Jongho snorts. He’s closer now, sounds closer, but you don’t see him. Wait— where even is everyone? You can’t ascertain who’s who and where they are and what they’re doing. All you see is what’s right there in front of you—Yunho, waiting for an answer you don’t have for a question you barely understood.
You expect the slap. You expect the second one too. “Yes master,” Yunho says firmly. “Say it. Show me you know your place.”
“Yes master,” you repeat.
He grins, then hits you again. “That’s my girl. We’re gonna fuck your throat now, you understand? You’re gonna take us all the way in there. Say yes master.”
You nod, blinking. “Yes master.”
“Good. Open your mouth. Wider.” He nods once he’s satisfied; once your mouth is so far open it’s straining your jaw. “Tongue out,” he orders. “Good. Keep it like that. Don’t move it.”
He keeps you there like that for a while—how long exactly you don’t know. Your jaw aches quickly, not intolerable but certainly not comfortable; you feel the saliva gathering on your tongue then dripping out and onto your thighs.
“That’s it,” Yunho smiles. “Drool. That’s how we want to see you. Keep going.”
You don’t really have a choice; still the way his eyes gleam as your thighs get messier and messier makes you fuzzy with pride. Fuck, you didn’t know it was even possible to drool this much. You register, faintly, the others watching you, making comments to each other you can’t hear or understand. “More,” Yunho says. “Make a mess of yourself. Nasty girl.”
“This is how you really want to be,” Yeosang’s voice comes from somewhere behind you, “underneath all the pretending, this is who you are. Dumb and drooling. You weren’t meant for any more than this.”
There’s a hand on the back of your neck, firm but careful, skin soft on yours. “Yeosang,” you murmur.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he coos. ”You ready to have your mouth fucked? Want master to hold you still?”
“Please.”
He braces two hands around the front of your neck, set under your jaw and holding your head firmly in place. You blink, once, twice, and when you open your eyes again Yunho is sliding his dick past your lips.
He’s already hard; already leaking; Yeosang moves one hand to grip your hair and pulls your head backwards enough for you to look Yunho directly in the eyes.
Yunho is very, very good at playing it cool; at keeping the unbothered, unimpressed demeanour and hiding how affected he truly is.
But over your time with him, with them, you’ve learned to see past the facade. You’ve learned to spot the small signs of pleasure in his face and body and voice; in the way he holds you, talks to you; the way the vein in his neck bulges, Adam's apple pulsing; the way his jaw clenches and his eyes flash when pleasure courses through him.
You’ve learned to find it and use it to guide you to where you want him—to the taste of thick, hot cum dripping down your throat.
He doesn’t ease you into it—he goes straight to the back of your throat like he really doesn’t see you as human at all. Just a fleshlight or a pocket pussy, primed for his pleasure and nothing more. Maybe he’s right to, now at least; with the way Yeosang holds you so firmly in place you have no choice but to take Yunho in his entirety. You gag and splutter and choke around his length every time he hits the back of your throat and none of them acknowledge it at all.
Your vision is blurry, tears welling, then you feel your eyes rolling back like you’ve lost the strength to hold them yourself. You hear Yeosang coo, murmuring something to the others that seems to make them laugh but you can’t quite work out what it is. You just close your eyes and focus on keeping your mouth open; jaw loose so you can take Yunho with minimal pain.
Not that that seems to be among their concerns.
You don’t have to do much—or any—work, with Yunho fucking your throat and Yeosang holding your head in place to stop it lolling back or trying to get away. You just have to take it. You’ve gotten very, very good at that.
The familiar taste—hot, salty, thick—comes sooner than you expect it; you hear distantly the sound of Yunho cracking; a strangled, staggered moan, his thrusts getting faster and more aggressive, Yeosang’s grip tightening to hold you firmer against the force of it—then the taste. The reward. Yunho keeps his dick in your mouth, all the way, your face pressed up against his crotch. “Take it all,” he grits out. “Swallow my fucking cum. Don’t you waste a drop.”
“She knows,” Yeosang says coolly.
“I doubt it crossed her mind not to,” Wooyoung, you think, adds from somewhere further. “She’s programmed for it.”
He’s right. You hadn’t even thought to do anything but swallow.
When Yunho pulls out, groaning, you feel cum dripping out of your mouth and down your chin; feel it sitting on your swollen wet lips. Yunho tuts, gathering the cum on your chin with one finger and pushing it back into your mouth.
“I said don’t waste a drop,” he says. “C’mon, stupid. Swallow it, there we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
You nod, dazedly, grunting a little. Yunho pats your cheek. “Good girl.”
There’s hands on you now, more than before, and you feel yourself moving; legs in the air, body turned over, then your face is pressed into the floor and your legs are spread apart. Someone is rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs and a warm, soft palm is cupping your pussy. Oh… that… that feels good. You want more.
You whine, squirming, chasing the slight pressure on your cunt; the hand winds back without a word and lands there in a sharp, scolding smack.
“Bad girl,” Yeosang chides. His finger pushes into your hole, just a little, then pulls back and smacks you again. You whine, crying out, and he clicks his tongue. “So dramatic,” he coos. “Come on, you can handle a few smacks. Don’t act like you’re new to this.”
You nod, grunting, and he hits you again. “Okay, sweetheart,” he croons. “Mingi’s gonna fuck you first. You’ll be good for him, won’t you?”
“Yes’ir,” you mumble, words slurring.
You feel it pressing against your hole; the familiar sensation of Mingi’s hard, heavy cock pushing inside. It’s throbbing, twitching; you can picture the leaking, angry tip pushing past your wet, sticky folds. You squirm, chasing it, trying to push back into it but their hands on you are firm and solid and all you can really do is take it.
“Shit, she’s wet,” Mingi groans, his voice strangled a little. He coos, leaning over you, lips brushing against your skin. “You’re all slippery, baby. Sucking me in so prettily.”
He starts slow. A long, drawn-out thrust, pushing right to your g-spot and staying there. One, two, three, four seconds, each one stretching further and further, then he eases up. Every thrust is harder than the last, building slowly, until his resolve and control seems to crack slightly and he starts rutting into you, fast and sharp and sloppy, like he’s been starved for it.
Your mouth is hanging open, drool dripping past your lips, tongue hanging out of the side like you’ve forgotten what to do with it, forgotten it’s even there. Maybe you have—the only thing you’re even close to conscious of right now is Mingi. His hands, his thrusts, his hips colliding with yours, the sounds of his groans. Mingi fucks you fully and completely, and every thrust feels like a piece of yourself dripping away into his control.
“Shit,” someone hisses. “Look at how she takes it.”
“Is she cumming tonight?” Someone asks.
“Not yet,” comes a reply. “Later, maybe, if she’s good. Bimbos have to earn it; it’s not a right.”
You whine, trying to push your hips backward; Mingi’s hand comes down on the back of your thigh, sharp and stinging, then squeezes the sensitive flesh hard enough to make you sob.
“Look at them,” Mingi grunts. He grabs your hair and yanks it backwards, forcing your head up. “Show them how pretty you are with your cunt full.”
“Mingi,” you mewl. His grip is iron, straining your neck and stinging your scalp, but you’re powerless against it; against him. “Ngh…”
“That’s right,” he coos. “So dumb, aren’t you? Can’t think of anything but dick. Clench around me, don’t you dare let go, you hear?”
You nod, fervent, and he makes a noise of approval, soothing the patch of skin where he’d slapped you.
“I’m going to cum in you,” he says, tone empty. “All the way inside. S’gonna fill up your womb. Wet and messy, just how you like it, yeah?”
“Yes sir,” you squeal. You close your eyes, forcing deep, steady breaths as you await what’s coming.
It comes like a wave—crashing, intense, a warm feeling in your tummy that leaks out of you where you’ve no more room to take it. You feel it dripping out from around his cock, unable to stop it; when he pulls out, grunting something you can’t quite decipher but sounds like praise, a rush of it pours out. He slaps your hole, hard and heavy, making you squeal.
“Dirty,” he says simply. “Good job.”
You feel yourself slumping, legs sliding backwards like they can’t hold up your weight anymore. It’s a slow fall, gradual, but you can’t stop it. It doesn’t really dawn on you to try.
“Hold her up,” someone says. You think it’s San. “She can’t hold her own weight now, hold her up.”
Then there’s hands on you, strong and steady, lifting you up and back into the position you’d been in before; face down, ass up, legs spread. Your entire body feels numb, but at the same time you’ve never been more sensitive; hyper-aware of their touches on your skin and the feeling of your cunt, stuffed full and leaking cum that’s sticking to your thighs.
A warm hand presses against your cunt, another wrapping around your waist. The touch is distant but electric, making you whine, squirming a little. “Shush, baby,” San soothes. “You’re okay. It’s just us. Gonna take such good care of you.”
“San,” you whisper. Fuck—you feel so empty. It hurts.
“I know,” he says. “You liked that? Liked Mingi using your tiny cunt?”
You nod fervently. “Yeah, Sannie.”
“Good girl. I’m gonna fuck your ass now. Gonna take it for me?”
“Take it,” you repeat. You blink, slowly, struggling to find the words—any words. “Gonna take it, master.”
He sounds pleased. “Yes you are.”
There’s a squelching sound, then cold, wet fingers are circling your rim. “Relax,” San murmurs. “You were built for this. Just let it happen.”
His fingers slide past your rim and inside as easily as if you really were made for it. He makes a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and pushes deeper. “That’s it,” he says. “Look at how loose you are. So ready for it, so easy, good girl.”
There’s softness against your face now, softer than the floor at least; Seonghwa is holding you, you realise, his arms wrapped around you keeping you still and your head cradled in his lap. He smiles down at you, patting your hair. “Good girl,” he says. “So brave. Sannie won’t take long.”
“Gonna hurt?” You ask.
“Not too much,” he answers. “Nothing you can’t take.”
“M’kay. You hum, satisfied, nuzzling your face into his lap. He laughs.
San pushes in slowly, at least, though you get the sense that’s more for your preservation than for your benefit. No use playing with something broken, after all.
It’s not the first time you’ve let them in your ass, but it always feels that way. They’re just big, and your hole is so small and unaccustomed to it that they essentially have to hold you down to prevent your body from fighting back on instinct. But it always feels good, they make it feel so good, and there’s something inherently demeaning about it to you that oddly gets you off.
Even as a punishment, it still makes you hot.
Like that time when you’d been getting a little too big for your britches, when you’d started talking back and challenging them and trying to take more than they were giving you, more than you’d earned, so they’d sentenced you to a week of anal only in an attempt to put you back in your place. The emptiness in your cunt had been painful then, not even allowed to be touched—Yunho took to taping over it when he fucked you just to rub salt in the wound—but the feeling of being stretched and stuffed in a hole you’d never had even an inclination to explore yourself, and having your pussy completely ignored in the process, was thrilling enough to make it bearable.
Still not a punishment you’re particularly eager to repeat, though.
There’s voices, soft and sweet and cooing, talking you through it as San bottoms out; hands in your hair and on your skin soothing the painful stretch that even gallons of lube couldn’t completely white out. You’re chewing on something, you realise; Seonghwa’s pants, you think, where your face is held securely in his lap. He doesn’t mind, though—your oral fixation, that need to have something in your mouth, is something they’re well aware of. Something they themselves nurtured and cultivated and encouraged.
For a while, you were fairly certain they were trying to convince you you’d die without their cocks in your mouth. You’re ashamed to say that it very nearly worked.
“This tight little asshole.” San’s voice is rough, low; you can tell he’s gritting his teeth, jaw clenched, and it makes you rather proud, knowing you’re affecting him in this way. You love pleasing them—being good and tight and warm around their cocks.
San starts sliding in and out, not quite slowly, but slow enough that you have a little room to adjust to it. Seonghwa is talking to you; you hear his voice, low and close and comforting, but you don’t know what he’s saying. You don’t think you need to; he sounds kind, he sounds safe and he sounds warm, and that’s enough to make everything else easier.
After a while, when your hole has adjusted to him and the stretch is less overwhelming, you manage to take in your surroundings a little more. Not clearly, but more; Seonghwa holding you in his lap, cradling your head, fingers pushing in and out of your mouth lazily. His dick, hard and pulsing, pressed against the side of your face through the fabric of his pants.
The others gathered around. Mingi, already hard again, stroking himself to the sight of you. Yunho filming, phone in hand.
You smile for the camera. He grins.
“How does it feel?” Seonghwa asks. “Is Sannie fucking you good, baby?”
Right as he speaks San pulls out almost all the way, only to force himself back in again, hard and sharp and sudden; you scream, almost blacking out, the pain and the pleasure too much to take. Seonghwa’s pants feel wet now, probably covered in your tears and snot and drool, but he doesn’t care. He never has—this isn’t the first time you’ve soaked through their clothes. Drool, cum, even your piss on occasion—sometimes you think they’re trying to force you to make as much of a mess as possible. You definitely think it gets them off faster when you do.
“God, look at her face.” Wooyoung’s voice comes like a moan, or a whine—loud, a little shaky, like his composure is breaking. “All blissed out. And loving it, loving getting passed around like a little hooker.”
“She basically is one,” Jongho says. “Or a sugar baby or something. We take care of everything for her, give her everything she wants, pay for everything—she just has to look pretty and bend over.”
“I guess she is one, then. Geez, how dirty.”
“She’s dirty,” Yunho says. “But she’s ours. We like her like that.”
“We do,” Wooyoung agrees. He sounds thrilled—exhilarated just from seeing and talking about you like this. “Dirty but ours, I like that.”
“She takes it so fucking good,” San grunts. He lands a solid smack on the back of your thigh, then another—you barely even register it. He groans. “Like a fuck machine, with her head empty like this. Wish we could keep her like this forever.”
“I’m going in her mouth,” Jongho says suddenly. “Can I go in her mouth?”
“Of course,” Hongjoong says. “Wooyoung, film her from the front. I want to remember all of this.”
You’re adjusted again, head lifted, placed down on something; then something big and hard and warm is pushing past your lips. There’s a mumble—you catch the words that trick with her mouth and saw it in the video—then something pokes at the top of your jaw, a finger you think, and your mouth falls open by itself. All the way. And stays there.
Another effect, it seems like.
“There we go,” Seonghwa coos. “God, what a great little serum this is. Really primes you for a fucking. Keep your mouth open like that, we’ll close it when you’re done.”
You don’t feel like you have a choice. You honestly don’t know if you’d even know how to close it properly.
Jongho’s hands fist into your hair, gripping tight as he starts to thrust. He’s big, thick, and accommodating him is always a struggle—tonight, though, it feels a little easier. A little more natural. As he forces himself to the back of your throat, holding you there until you start to splutter, you feel like this is what you were meant to be.
Is that an effect of the serum, too?
Jongho rarely cums in your mouth. He much prefers to do it on your face or your chest; to see you defiled, to see you messy and covered in his cum, your skin sullied with it, smearing with the sweat and drool that’s tricked down to your chest.
Tonight he does the same; he goes for your chest this time, pulling you up by the hair to get a good aim before thick ropes of cum start to land between your tits. You push your chest out, eager for more, eager to catch it all, and he grins.
“Nasty,” he says. “And all mine.”
“How much more can she take?” Hongjoong asks. “She seems lucid still.”
“She does,” Wooyoung says, and he doesn’t sound pleased. “San, fuck her harder. We need her dumber than this.”
San grunts, obliging; his hand presses down on your mouth, pulling your head back and muffling sounds you barely register making. He’s leaning over you now, it seems like; his lips graze over your ears, nipping and catching the skin on his teeth. “Take it,” he grunts. “No noise. No thinking. No struggling. Just go limp and take it.”
You nod; he rewards you with two fingers slipping into your mouth and pushing down on your tongue. You suck at them frantically, overwhelmed, and he makes a noise of satisfaction. “Just like that,” he encourages. “I’m gonna cum in your ass, bimbo, and you’re gonna hold it there. You’re gonna clench your hole til we can get you plugged up. Yes?”
“Yes’ir,” you slur. “G’na hold it.”
He hums, then his fingers leave your mouth and your head is being pressed against the floor, held in place by a pressure on your head you can’t identify, and you’re completely trapped, completely immobile as San fucks you towards his orgasm. You can always tell when it’s coming; he starts whining a little, his grunts and moans going higher as he chases pleasure. His thrusts do the opposite—they get harder, faster, more brutal, less restrained strength and more uncontrolled lust on a level that feels primal.
He cums with a shout, like a roar or a battle cry from the bottom of his chest, rasping and breaking as he fucks you through it.
And then it’s over.
There’s hands on your cheeks, spreading them apart; San’s dick is a solid presence in your hole until he starts to pull away, sliding out slowly and steadily like he’s easing you into (or out of, in this case) it. “Hold it,” he murmurs. “Clench.”
You do. You only have to for a second or so; then there’s something else, something cold and wet and metal pressing in, and you recognise it as your favourite stainless steel buttplug. You hope it’s the one with the jewel on the end; the pink sparkly one that always makes you feel dolled up. You love it so much you sometimes forgo panties or even clothes altogether when you’re wearing it, just to show it off to them as much as possible.
“Pink?” You ask as it settles into place. A warm hand rests on your cheek and someone laughs, knowing exactly what you’re asking.
“Yes, baby,” Yunho says. “Your favourite pink plug. You look like such a little princess.”
You smile; a weak, dazed, dumb smile, your eyes half shut, and someone laughs. Maybe more than one.
“How do you feel?” Seonghwa asks. “Tired? Need a break?”
“No,” you reply, suspiciously quickly. “No, sir. Need… keep going.”
“Feeling empty again, aren’t you?” He smiles. “The plug’s not doing it for you? Need a cock to keep you calm?”
“Please.”
“Is she still wet?”
Your hips are lifted up, aching pussy lips spread apart, warm fingers running through your folds, then a noise of confirmation. “Dripping.”
“Turn her over,” Seonghwa says. “She’s been in this position for long enough. We’ll put her on her back.”
It’s Wooyoung who was behind you, you find out when you’re turned over; he looms above you now with spark and intention in his eyes. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, and his nostrils flare.
All but taking a bite out of you.
“I’ll tell you something,” he smiles. “I never thought the sight of Jongho’s cum could make me so turned on.”
“Jesus,” Jongho laughs. “Shut up and fuck her, man.”
Wooyoung huffs, rolling his eyes, lips puffed out in an exaggerated pout. “Fine,” he says, drawing it out a little.
Your legs are lifted up and wrapped around his waist, interlocked against his back. Your hips are pulled upwards by the position so they’re just about level with his crotch. “Keep your legs here,” he instructs. “Say yes master.”
“Yes, master,” you echo, obediently. He locks one hand under you, holding your weight by the waist, and spits on the other. Then again. And again—rubbing it up and down his shaft each time until it’s wet and slippery.
You’re still wet too, you can feel it—though maybe that’s cum dripping out of you, to be fair—but still you feel relieved.
Wooyoung tends to bottom out quickly; he’s not the type to go slow, not the type that really can once he’s finally sunk himself into you. You’re just too warm, too soft, too tight; he needs all of him inside as soon as he gets a taste of it.
His other arm wraps around your waist, too, holding you up the same way, taking the pressure off you to hold your position as he starts to fuck you.
It means the only thing you have to think or care or be aware of is what you’re feeling now—his bruising grip on your skin, his cock buried in your sensitive cunt and slamming against your g-spot like he has something to prove.
“Smile, baby,” he says; it takes a moment for the words to register. “You’re still being filmed, pretty girl. Gave the camera to Jongho. Say hi.”
You don’t know where to look—or how to look, at this point; you whine helplessly, desperately, and someone laughs then gently grabs your head and tilts it to the right.
Sure enough, there he is—pointing the phone directly at you. You stare at it, blinking slowly; your body moves and jerks violently with every thrust, and you feel your tits bouncing up and down with the movements.
Jongho is staring at them, blatantly. You smile.
“Baby,” Wooyoung says, a little firmer now. “I told you to say hi to the camera. Wave, or something. Stop being stupid.”
Oh, yeah. “Hi,” you squeak out.
“There we go.” Jongho’s eyes flicker upwards to meet yours, then return to the phone screen, monitoring the video. “Sweet little pornstar. She can lift her legs higher, Wooyoung.”
You can; you’ve worked on it with them. Wooyoung grabs your legs where they’re wrapped around his waist and lifts them higher until they’re slung over his shoulders and hardly any of your body is on the ground except for your head.
It’s like you're floating—but it’s anything but gentle.
And he gets so much deeper like this
“H-hurts,” you whine. “A-ah, Woo, it hurts.”
“Does it?” He asks lightly. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself, though.”
“She loves it,” San says. “Don’t listen to her, Wooyoung, she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’s just babbling ‘cause she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Just look at how wet she is; making a mess all over the place. That doesn’t come from anything but pleasure.”
Wooyoung groans. “You’re right. And she’s fucking clinging to me, too. Tightens every time I hit the spot. You’re not slick, bunny.”
You never really have been—not with them, at least. They’ve always had a talent for that; their ability to read you, to understand and unravel you even when you’d rather they didn’t, was one of the things that drew you to them.
You’re not certain how much time passes like that; you, spread out, folded almost in half and entirely helpless; Wooyoung’s fingers digging into your waist as he pushes in and out while the others spit praises and dirt and filth at you. You lose track of what they’re saying or doing; all you can do is take and feel and float on the feeling.
You’ve never felt less in control of yourself. You’ve also never felt less of a need to be.
Everything about this—the helplessness, the loss of control, the care, the weightlessness of having nothing on your shoulders—feels like what you were meant to be.
“She’s still going deeper,” someone hisses. “Fuck, how is she still going deeper into it?”
“That’s it.” Seonghwa’s voice is close enough and gentle enough in that distinctly Seonghwa way for you to distinguish. “Keep slipping. Sink into it baby, good girl. So dumb, aren’t you?”
“Dumb,” you repeat. “H—Hwa, I—”
“I know,” he hushes you. “You’re making Wooyoung feel so good, baby. Taking it like such a little champ.”
“So good,” Wooyoung grunts. “Fuck, I love you.”
Even after taking Mingi, the stretch of Wooyoung’s dick inside your cunt burns and stings only just short of painfully. His grip on you hurts as well, fingers digging into fragile tender skin without care, but there’s too many things happening to your body right now to focus too much on any in particular.
“Hold on.” Seonghwa’s palm presses against your cheek, then two fingers push past your lips and into your mouth. You suck at them, instantly and instinctively, and he coos. “There we go,” he hums. “Something to suckle on.”
“She needs something in her mouth, huh?” Someone says, laughing lowly.
“She needs it even when she’s not drugged up,” Seonghwa replies. “But this… look at her, sucking away at it. She looks so innocent you almost forget she’s being fucked open right now.”
“I’m about to cum,” Wooyoung says suddenly, voice straining.
“Then cum,” Seonghwa responds. His tone is light, and his eyes don’t stray from you, watching the way you suck at his fingers whilst Wooyoung starts to speed up again. You whine loudly at the new sensations, not really understanding them, and Seonghwa runs his other hand across your hair tenderly. “Almost there,” he murmurs. “Wooyoung’s gonna fill you up, keep you nice and warm. Maybe he’ll give you a baby, too. Would you like that, honey?”
You nod, moaning at the thought of it; of being full and swollen with their seed, of being knocked up, of carrying their child. Fuck, you want that so fucking badly. Seonghwa grins; there’s a dry laugh from somewhere too far for you to really comprehend, but it sounds like Yunho. You think. “Seonghwa, don’t say these things while she’s drugged up. She doesn’t know what she’s agreeing to.”
“She’s fine,” Seonghwa dismisses him. “We have her on birth control anyway. It’s just talk, isn’t it, sweet girl?”
You nod again, and Seonghwa smiles, seeming satisfied. Just as he does, Wooyoung shouts, sharp and strangled, and heat spreads in your lower tummy. You squeeze your eyes shut, mouth falling open around Seonghwa’s fingers, riding it out as Wooyoung fucks you through his orgasm. There’s low voices talking you through it, but you don’t know what they’re saying. You don’t care. Everything feels static, your legs locked around Wooyoung’s shoulders, the pleasure that’s been slowly building in your tummy while you were too cock-dumb to comprehend it finally breaking through the haze and making itself known. Fuck, your entire body feels electric, buzzing; you whine, a strangled sound, just as Wooyoung starts to pull out.
He does it slowly. Dragging it out like he’s torturing you on purpose. By the time he’s pulled out completely, a rush of fluid spilling out of you after him, you’re sobbing around Seonghwa’s fingers. Lips press against your forehead, kissing your flushed, sweat-soaked skin, and you cry weakly against it.
“Hwa,” you whimper.
“I’m here,” he hums. “Oh darling, were you feeling good? Did you finally remember you can cum too?”
“Yeah,” you wail. “Hwa.”
“I know,” he croons. “Oh, you poor little thing. Woo was so mean, pulling out just as you were on the edge, wasn’t he?”
“Tummy hurts,” you sniffle. “Need to…”
“You’ll be okay. I’m sure someone will help you.”
“Empty,” you say dazedly. Everything is blurry, fuzzy, out of focus. “Hwa.”
You’re lifted then, strong arms picking you up from where you’re spread out and defined in a heap and planting you gently down on Seonghwa’s lap. He takes his fingers out of your mouth and uses them to rub lazily at your pussy, gathering the mess between your folds, then pushes them back into your mouth again. It tastes salty, creamy; a little bitter. You lick it up like you’re fucking starving.
“She could live off this,” someone says. “Look at her, she loves the taste.”
By the time Seonghwa’s fingers are finally clean, nothing more for you to lick up no matter how hard you try, your eyelids are heavy, heavier by the second. Only then do you finally notice how exhausted you really are; how it’s seeped into your bones and sunken into your skin like a parasite you can’t rid yourself of.
Your pussy is still throbbing, though. Wetness still slides down your thighs. Your mouth still tries to pull Seonghwa’s fingers in deeper so you can choke on them against the back of your throat.
“Confusing, huh?” Seonghwa hums. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s just your special medicine doing its job. It makes sure you’re always ready to be fucked; keeps you loose and wet and begging for it, stops you from tightening up again. That’s the last thing we’d want. You’re alright.”
Oh. That explains it; why the stretch when they slid in, while still noticeable, was easier and less painful than usual; why it’s felt like your holes were lubricating themselves; why you’ve been so fucking needy for it no matter how fucked out or exhausted you are. It all makes sense now.
“You’ll be throbbing all week.” Hongjoong comes to sit next to your head, crouched down, running his hand across your forehead. You whine, reaching for him—you miss him, and you love him, and he’s always so warm and patient and he always fucks and touches and disciplines you just the way you need it, and has he been very involved this evening? It doesn’t feel like it—but your hands are too heavy to hold yourself. Hongjoong, always knowing what you need, takes your hands in his and holds them to his chest himself.
You can feel his heart beating through his shirt. Feel his warmth; the outline of his muscles constricting as he breathes in and out. You sigh, contented, and he smiles. “You’ll be throbbing all week,” he says again. “Even when you’re sleeping. To make sure you don’t get any ideas about telling us no. Keeps you ready for it. You’ll be able to ignore it most of the time; not that you’ll need to, though. We’ll be keeping you very well fucked this week.”
“All week?” You echo, your voice barely a murmur. “Th…throbbing all week?”
“Sounds scary, huh?” Seonghwa chuckles. “You’ll be alright. That’s just how bimbos are made. It’s part of your biology, honey.”
“Are you throbbing now?” Hongjoong asks. Before you can answer—try to, at least—he presses his hand against your cunt, cupping it in his palm and fingers. It’s when he pulls away, nodding, a curious hum from between his lips, that you realise it wasn’t a question for you. Phew. “You are,” he says. “Little pussy is pulsing. Like a heartbeat. She could take more easily.”
“Ay, she’s sleepy though,” someone says. Cold fingers pinch at your cheeks, making you wince. “Shouldn’t we let her rest?”
“She hasn’t even cum yet.”
“She doesn’t need to,” Seonghwa says. “And it won’t make her feel any better anyway.”
“I say she cums tomorrow. Or today, if we decide to keep fucking her.”
“I agree with Yunho.” Hongjoong puts your hands back down, tucking them against your chest, but doesn’t let go. Just holds them there, rubbing small circles into your skin with his thumbs. “There’s no reason for her to cum before we’ve all had a turn. Is there, baby?”
You’re just staring at him. He clicks his fingers, right in front of your eyes; you jump slightly, delayed a little, then nod. “There we go,” he laughs. “See, even the whore agrees.”
Your eyelids are drooping now—but with everything lagging like this, you don’t realise until everything fades to black. You frown, brows furrowing in confusion, trying to catch up, and they laugh.
“Oh, look at her. Did we tire her out that much?”
“Poor thing’s dozing off.”
“No wonder. She’s taken a lot.”
It’s Seonghwa, as it quite often is, who makes the final decision. You’ve noticed the eldest two are also often the most level headed, and the rest of them seem to defer to them on that basis as well. “We’ll let her sleep,” he says. His voice is quiet, soft, like he’s trying not to wake you, but it brokers no room for argument. “She agreed to let us use her when she sleeps, too, but this is the first day. She needs to adjust. She’ll take the rest of us in the morning, then we can think about letting her cum. Alright?”
By the time the others answer, you’re already out like a light.
merry christmasssss my babies!! there wasn’t as much hongjoong as i’d have liked in this chapter, but he’ll be featuring prominently in the next one!! as will all the others
comments, rbs, general thoughts are always appreciated. :)
synopsis ; after spending more and more time with your boyfriend's best friends you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like it you all were together... however, hongjoong being as observant as he is talked to wooyoung and yeosang about sharing you for a day and possibly expand things further...
pairing(s) ; bf!hongjoong x f!reader x woosang
☆ ── wc. ; 6.7k
☆ ── genre ; just pure filth tbh...
☆ ── tw. ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, kissing, unprotected sex, wooyoung is needy, slight breast play, biting/marking, oral (f. & m. receiving), face fucking/riding, it gets realllyyyyy messy, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight orgasm control, cum eating, petnames (baby, honey, sweetheart, babygirl, angel, doll...), praising & degrading, slight choking, hair pulling, derogatory names (slut...), switch!wooyoung x switch!reader, mean dom!yeosang x sub!reader, dom!hongjoong x sub!reader, passing out, teasing, some mxm action (woosang), spitting, creampie, dumbification, squirting, mentions of a safeword (but not used), rough sex, voyeurism, manhandling, slight clit play, some dacryphilia, finger sucking, begging, both reader and wooyo are whiny and needy, outside/semi-public sex, masturbation, slight sir kink, like one spank, slight head pushing, lmk if I missed anything!!
☆ ── notes ; first things first, everyone go and wish @klllerwaifu a very happy birthday, I hope you enjoy your special day my love and that this fic brings you some more joy to your day!! I love you sm and thank you for feeding the worms in my brain, MWAH!!! second.... I think I've learned a few things about myself while writing this....
The blazing summer sun was shining on your laid out form, your bikini sure to leave tan lines behind. It was the hottest day of the year so far, and your boyfriend suggested that you hang out at the pool. One of the luxuries of having a loaded man is that you have free access to his private pool whenever you see fit.
You lifted your upper body, groaning slightly as you reached over to the small table next to you and grabbed the seltzer can sitting on top.
"Baby, aren't you going to join me?" Hongjoong called out to you, swimming to the edge of the pool to rest his arms on the warm pavement. You took a long sip of the fizzy alcohol, your body feeling warm as you swallowed.
"In just a bit, Joong, the sun feels nice." You told him, a sweet smile tugging on the corners of your lips before you lay back down, closing your eyes.
Hongjoong keeps his eyes on you for a few lingering moments before pushing off the pool wall and ducking himself under the cool water. He wasn't upset, no, he knew that you'd end up in the pool sooner rather than later, especially when he broke the surface of the water only to find his two best friends creeping up to where you were sitting, blissfully unaware.
Wooyoung wore a shit-eating grin when he glanced over at Hongjoong, the older male watching in amusement. Yeosang stood to your right with a lollipop in his mouth while Wooyoung moved to your left, waiting for the perfect moment. Then, as soon as you bent your legs, he struck.
Before you could even react, your body was pulled from the lounge chair, a high-pitched, surprised yelp falling from your lips. Your eyes flew open, spotting your boyfriend's best friend carrying you. Wooyoung had one hand wrapped around your waist while the other was hooked under your knees, carrying you towards the edge of the pool.
"Wooyoung, put me down!" You pushed against his chest, not even realizing that he wasn't wearing a shirt. He just smirked down at you, his grip tightening when you tried to wiggle out of his grip.
Then you heard the sound of your boyfriend's laughter, causing you to look over, eyes growing wide as you realized what exactly Wooyoung was planning to do.
"Wooyoung, don't you dare!" You warned, attempting to swing your legs out of his grip, but it was futile, and the fox-eyed male just laughed, causing you to glare at him. "Wooyoung." Your voice shook as the two of you got closer to the water.
You barely had time to react when he started to throw your body towards the icy water, but you managed to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into the pool with you. Your whole body was then submerged in the frigid water, goosebumps littering your skin. Without a second thought, you pushed yourself to the surface, a gasp falling from your lips as you emerged. You quickly wiped your face, clearing your vision that had been polluted with water, looking around for the oreo-haired culprit. Then, a few moments later, he emerged from the water, throwing his head back and wiping his face.
All of the words died on your tongue as you watched him run his fingers through his hair, the muscles in his arm bulging out. You swallowed thickly, averting your gaze. You knew that you shouldn't be looking, especially with Hongjoong just a few feet away. But you also could control the way your heart raced in your chest every time that he would have Wooyoung or Yeosang over, or worse, both.
It felt completely and utterly wrong, guilt creeping into your head as you splashed water at the dual-haired man, hoping that he wouldn't notice the blush that dusted your cheeks.
Hongjoong, however, noticed it right away.
He swam over to you, wrapping his hand around your waist and pulling you into his side, "What's got you so flustered, pretty girl?" He asked, brushing some of your hair out of your face as you looked over at him with wide eyes. You knew he noticed, of course, he did, and you were a fool to think otherwise.
"N-Nothing." You mentally cursed yourself for studdering, turning your face away from his, but Hongjoong caught your chin between his thumb and index finger.
"Ah-ah, honey, don't shy away from me." He leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of your burning ear, and you felt your heart stop in your chest. "You can look at Woo, I know he doesn't mind."
Your breath hitched in your throat when Hongjoong moved your head until you were looking at the other two males. Wooyoung leaned back against the pool wall, his oreo hair slicked back, while Yeosang sat on the edge, his legs sunk in the pool water. Both are looking directly at you.
"Don't think I haven't noticed the looks you've been giving them," Hongjoong said, his warm breath fanning your cheek as his lips ghosted over your jaw. Your blood ran cold, eyes widening as you turned your head to look at your magenta-haired boyfriend.
"Joong, I'm sor—"
"Oh no, don't apologize, sweetheart." He pulled back a smirk, tugging on his lips, "Seeing you so desperate for their attention while I have my hands on you is hot." His fingers traced the skin on your abdomen, right under your breasts, "so fucking hot."
You gasped softly, heat spreading throughout your entire body. You hadn't meant to be so obvious with your stares whenever Wooyoung and Yeosang were over, but you should've known better. Nothing gets past Hongjoong's keen eye.
"So I talked to the guys…" He started, and your eyes went wide in shock, the dull ringing in your ears suddenly growing wider. "I'm willing to share, but you gotta be a good girl, hmm?"
Your body felt incredibly hot despite the cold water that your body was submerged in, your chest feeling heavy with breath as you slowly turned your head to look at the pair who were still by the pool's edge. Thoughts raged war in your mind, and your mouth went dry. A part of you felt like this was some kind of trap, and Hongjoong would toss you away the moment you agreed, but the other part of you became excited at the possibility of getting your hands on Hongjoong's friends.
"Don't worry, babygirl, I promise this isn't a joke or some test." Hongjoong's warm lips placed gentle kisses on your exposed neck, coaxing you to turn your head to look at him. He then leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. "You also don't have to; we can stop here or at any time, just tell me. You come before anything else, okay?" He whispered like a promise against your lips, and you slowly nodded, eyes fluttering open.
"O-Okay," You croaked out, a wave of relief washing over you before it was quickly replaced by excitement, your skin tingling as you looked back over at Wooyoung and Yeosang.
"Good, now here's the deal." Hongjoong's hands drifted back down to your hips, gripping your soft flesh as he moved to stand behind you. Eyes meeting the pairs with a smirk, letting them know that the plan was a go. "They have free use to do whatever they please to you, babygirl, but they know what the safeword is."
You swallowed thickly, nodding your head as you could feel heat pooling in your gut the longer their hungry eyes stayed latched onto your barely covered body. It started to dawn on you why exactly your boyfriend had invited you out to the pool when you knew he'd much rather stay inside, where there was AC.
"Now…" Hongjoong's voice echoed in your ears, "Who do you want to play with first?"
Your hands shook underneath the surface of the water as you glanced between the oero-haired male and the blonde, both of whom were watching you with keen eyes. Hongjoong chuckled from behind you at your lack of response or movement before providing a gentle nudge on the small of your back.
Nothing in the world would have prepared you to make this kind of choice; you had no idea what these males were like in bed, aside from hearing a few things from stories. But then you remembered who it was that threw you into the water, and you moved, slowly swimming towards the blonde who pulled the lollipop from between his lips.
"Hi angel," Yeosang greeted you as your hands fell onto his knees, pushing yourself up to stand, ignoring the whine from the dual-haired male next to you.
"Hi, Yeo." You looked up at him, palms splayed across his thighs as he stared down at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. With a sudden surge of confidence, you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand down before wrapping your lips around the lilipop that sat between his fingers.
Yeosang bit back a groan as you put on a show of swirling your tongue around the candy, eyes darkening with lust. Then he pulled the fruit-flavored treat from your saliva-coated lips before grabbing the back of your neck with his other hand, pulling you into him. His lips crashed into yours, eliciting a surprised yelp from you, only for it to be muffled as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. It was messy and rough, not even giving you a chance to catch up as he shoved his touge between your lips.
Your fingers dug into his thighs, trying to ground yourself as he sucked on your bottom lip, groaning at the taste of the candy and your lip gloss. Then you felt hands snaking around your waist, causing you to jump, head turning just in time to see Wooyoung right behind you.
"I know we said one at a time, but god, I can't just watch this." Wooyoung groaned, bringing his face to your neck, inhaling your scent.
"You're so damn impatient," Yeosang growled, fingers catching your chin to turn you back towards him. His lips ghosted over yours, but he pulled back slightly when you let out a low moan. Glancing down, he watched as Wooyoung slipped his hand under your bikini top, squeezing your soft mound.
"Wooyoung…" You breathed out, head falling back against his shoulder as he grinds his hips into your ass, groaning against your neck. Your whole body started to feel as if it were lit aflame, need flowing through your veins.
"Let's move to the lounge area," Hongjoong's voice tore through the fog in your brain, and you turned your head to watch as he pulled himself out of the pool, eyes locked onto the three of you.
Wooyoung reluctantly parted from your body, his dick twitching in his trunks when you let out a soft whine. But you were silenced when Yeosang pulled his legs from the water, eyes meeting yours as you moved closer to the ledge. He helps you out of the water before all of you walk over to the small lounge area, where you find your place next to Hongjoong.
"Go on, sweetheart, they're yours to play with." Hongjoong placed his hand on the small of your back, pushing you towards where Wooyoung was sitting on the couch.
Glancing back at you, see your magenta-haired boyfriend one last time. You walked over to the couch, standing right in front of Wooyoung. Your heart hammered in your chest as his fox eyes bore into you, arms spread across the back of the couch. Biting your bottom lip, you placed a bent knee next to his hip, placing a hand next to his head before leaning down until you were face-to-face with him. A newfound confidence washed over you as the initial hesitancy melted away.
"You always talk a big game. Why don't you show me what this mouth of yours can do?" You smirked, watching as his eyes widened at your tone. Wooyoung felt as if he was going to cream his pants right then and there at the thought of eating you out.
"I won't disappoint, doll, promise." He smirked, leaning forward to catch your hips in his hands, pulling you into his lap fully. "Now rise up." He instructed, lifting your hips until you were on your knees.
You didn't even have a chance to question what he was doing before his body was sliding down the cushions. He settled his head right underneath you, moaning at the way your bikini bottoms were being swallowed by your puffy folds.
"Fuck." Wooyoung moaned, not really believing that he was finally getting the chance to do this after the countless stories he'd heard from Hongjoong. His fingers trailed up your thighs before finding the strings of your bikini bottoms, untying them with a quick pull and throwing them off to god knows where.
Hongjoong settled into the chair off to your left, leaning back with his legs spread to watch as Wooyoung grabbed your hips, pulling your cunt down to his mouth. He licked from your leaking slit to your aching clit, wrapping his plush lips around the bundle, eliciting a loud whine from you, "Oh fuck…"
Your fingers wrapped around the back of the lounge couch, body slumping forward as pleasure racked through your body. The faint sound of your boyfriend's chuckle rang in your ears before you felt a hand on your upper back.
"Tastes sweet, doesn't she?" Hongjoong asked, letting his fingertip trail down your spine, making you shiver, another moan falling from your lips when Wooyoung hummed, the vibrations sending tingles all throughout your body.
"So noisy, what if the neighbors hear your pathetic moans?" Yeosang asked, moving to stand on the other side of the couch, facing you. His fingers threaded through your hair, eyes flickering to Hongjoong. When the older male nodded in approval, he tightened his grip, pulling your face out of the cushions. You let out a choked gasp, eyes looking up to meet the blondes, "Why don't we quiet you down, hmm?"
Your lust-glazed eyes flickered down to the prominent bulge in his swim trunks, mouth watering at the thought. With a smirk, Yeosang places his sucker back into his mouth before shoving his bottoms off, letting them pool around his ankles. The sound of your whines and whimpers as Wooyoung worked on your cunt made his dick twitch, begging for relief.
"Fucking he— mmph!" You choked on your words as Yeosang took the chance to grab your jaw, pushing the tip of his cock past your parted lips.
Hongjoong smirked, fingers wrapping around the back of your neck to hold you still as Yeosang's cock invaded your mouth. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes at the sudden intrusion and pleasure that was clouding your mind. Hongjoong knew that your high was creeping up on you based on the way your hips frantically moved against Wooyoung's face.
"You know the rules, babygirl, don't cum until I tell you that you can." Hongjoong hummed, squeezing your neck as you whined.
"Look at you, riding one man's face while gagging on another's dick, all in front of your boyfriend," Yeosang growled, rolling his hips, causing the tip of his dick to hit the back of your throat. "Such a filthy slut aren't you?"
You whined around his cock, fingers tightening around the back of the couch. Brain foggy with lust, as your body was ravaged entirely and used. Your thighs tensed as you felt your high creeping up on you, but you tried to hold it back as much as possible, not wanting to disobey your boyfriend.
Yeosang moaned out as your tongue pressed against the underside of his aching cock, hooded eyes trained on your face. Watching spit and saliva spilled past your lips as he continued to fuck his dick into your mouth, a shiver ran down his spine when you moaned.
"Shit," Yeosang cursed, fingers threading through your hair as he felt his high rapidly approaching the anticipation of this, making him all the more sensitive.
"You can cum after you get Yeosang to cum, sweetheart," Hongjoong told you, watching in amusement as your teary eyes fluttered open, determination shimmering in your irises.
You gazed up at Yeosang, the sight of his blonde hair sticking to his forehead making you clench around nothing. Moving a shaky hand from the couch, you reached over to grab his balls, squeezing them gently and relishing in the guttural groan that escaped his lips.
"Oh fuck." Yeosang's head fell back, his hips faltering, right on the precipice of his climax. Then, when you let out a particularly loud moan, his high crashed over him, his seed spilling down your throat. You nearly choked due to the amount, but you managed to swallow it all as he pulled his dick out of your mouth. Yeosang watched with dark eyes as you opened your mouth, tongue rolling out to show him that you swallowed every last drop. "God, you really are a filthy slut."
"She is, isn't she?" Hongjoong asked, a smirk plastered all over his face as his grip tightened, pulling you back against him.
"J-Joongie…" You moaned out, hazy eyes glancing up at him, "Can I cum now, please?"
"Heh, go ahead, pretty girl." He chuckles, moving his hand around to the front of your throat, encasing your soft flesh in the palm of his hand. "Cum all over Wooyoung's face."
Your hand flew up to grab his arm, fingers digging into his skin as your body started to tremble, and before you know it, your high washes over you. The intensity of it nearly knocked all of the air from your lungs; the only noise you could make was a pathetic whimper.
Wooyoung's grip tightened on your things when you tried to move away, not getting enough of your sweet cunt. One of your hands flew down to his head, tugging on his dual-colored locks, whining out his name as he growled against your twitching cunt. Then, when he finally got his fill, he relinquished his hold, allowing you to lift yourself on shaky legs, your chest heaving with heavy breaths.
"Holy hell, I could get addicted to your taste, doll." Wooyoung's voice was hoarse as he pushed himself back up the couch, letting you sit back on his lap. His hands then moved up your spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake as he grabbed the strings of your bikini top. With a few quick tugs, he had your top thrown somewhere on the ground with your bottoms.
You hummed as you ground your hips down on his, feeling his erection against your bare cunt. The sensitivity that lingered from your last orgasm caused a chill to run down your spine, a soft mewl falling from your lips. Fingers digging into Wooyoung's biceps, you started rolling your hips with precision against his, soaking in the borderline whines that fell from his lips.
"F-Fuck…" His hands found your hips, but you quickly smacked his hands away, a smirk tugging on your lips at his flabbergasted expression.
"You've got to have your way with me; now it's my turn." You told him as you grabbed his wrist when he tried to grab you again, pinning them to the back of the couch. A moan tore through his lips when you delivered a particularly delicious roll of your hips.
"Oh, shit—" Wooyoung choked on a moan, pulling his lip between his teeth as you continued to roll your hips against his, fingers tight around his wrist.
"I bet you'd cum in your pants if I kept grinding, wouldn't you?" You teased, biting back a moan of your own when your clit brushed over the cloth of his trunks.
"F-Fu— nghhh!" The dual-haired male's head fell back, eyes squeezing shut when you pressed your hips flush with his. You leaned forward, latching your lips onto the tanned skin of his neck, sucking and biting deep purple marks along his jugular. Wooyoung's body started trembling under yours, the veins in his neck bulging out due to how tightly his jaw was clenched.
Hongjoong watched in amusement as you got Wooyoung to turn into putty right in the palm of your hand. While Yeosang leaned against the back of the couch next to Wooyoung's head, a smug smirk tugging on his lips. He reached out and grabbed the younger's face, squeezing his cheeks until his lips were puckered and his eyes opened.
"Look at you, about to cum in your pants. Pathetic." He chastized Wooyoung, who whined in response, his hands balling into fists in your grip. Yeosang released his cheeks before grabbing his chin, "Open your mouth."
Wooyoung did as told, letting his mouth fall open, and your hips falter as you watched Yeosang gather a ball of saliva in his mouth before spitting it right into the oreo-haired male's awaiting mouth. Biting your lip, you lifted your hips, causing Wooyoung to let out a loud whine.
"Don't be so impatient," Yeosang growled against Wooyoung's ear, fingers trailing down to his throat, choking him.
You made quick work of Wooyoung's swim trunks with the help of him raising his hips, a cute little gasp falling from your lips when his cock sprang up. Sitting back on his thighs, you took his aching cock in your hand, pressing your thumb against his leaking slit. The sounds that left Wooyoung's lips were nothing short of pornographic.
"Y—baby, please." Wooyoung cried out as you started to pump his twitching cock, his high threatening to crash over him.
"Don't you dare cum yet," Yeosang warned, squeezing the younger's throat, eliciting another whine from his swollen lips. "If you even think about it, I'll make you sit on the sidelines and watch as I fuck Y/n's sweet little cunt."
"I-I won't!" Wooyoung choked out, hips raising off the couch despite the extra weight in his lap, a whimper falling from his lips.
"Ride him, sweetheart." Hongjoong appeared behind you, brushing a few strands of hair away from your neck, and you glanced back at him with doe eyes. "Ride him until your heart's content."
Glancing up, you met Wooyoung's burning gaze, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. You relished in the way his eyes pleaded with you, his hands at your sides itching to touch you, but he wouldn't dare, scared that you'd stop if he did. With one last pump of his cock you stood on your knees, dragging his tip through your folds before lining it with your dripping cunt and sinking down.
"Oh my god…" Wooyoung whimpered as your tight heat started to envelope his aching cock, the snug fit sending his mind into orbit. Both of you let out a high-pitched moan when you sank down fully, bodies tingling. "Can I touch you, please, baby, please?" He begged, tears building along his waterline, and your cunt squeezed around him at the sight, causing him to whimper.
"Go ahead, since you cry so pretty." You breathed out, rolling your hips against his, shivers running down your spine at the drag of his cock along your gummy walls.
Wooyoung's hands trembled as he clutched your hips, squeezing the soft fat. Then his attention was brought back to Yeosang when his lips met his in a bruising kiss, tongue darting out to lick up the remainder of your release that still coated his lips.
"Look at you, Wooyo, just as pathetic as me." You cooed, nails digging into his chest as you rolled your hips. He moaned into Yeosang's mouth as the blonde bit at his bottom lip.
You were then lifting your hips before dropping back down, causing Wooyoung to moan loudly. Your thighs burned as your pace picked up, muscles begging to relax, but you weren't done with him yet. You reached up and grabbed Yeosang's wrist, signalling him to move his hand, which he did, curious as to what you were planning.
"You're so noisy, love," You moaned, shoving your ring and middle finger into Wooyoung's mouth, pressing down on his tongue, muffling his sounds.
"I didn't know you could be so dominating, babygirl." Hongjoong chuckled, leaning down to press wet, hot kisses down your neck, the sensation making you whine. His hands then wrapped around your body, cupping your breasts in his hands, tweaking with your erect nipples.
"J-Joongie." You breathed out, leaning back against him as your hip ground down on Wooyoung's.
The dual-haired male was on the brink of insanity. The way your pussy squeezed around him was making him delirious. His high was right on the horizon, only needing a final push to get there. The sinful sounds of your squelching cunt fill all of your ears as you fucked yourself onto his cock. Pulling your fingers from his mouth, you grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him into you, latching your lips onto his. You swallowed his high-pitched moans as he emptied inside you, streams of white, hot cum flooding your womb while you continued to grind your hips down on him.
"W-Wai—" Wooyoung choked on a moan as you continued to fuck yourself on his sensitive cock, his thighs shaking underneath you.
"Oh Youngie…" You breathed out, your cunt squeezing around him like crazy as you chased your own high. The sensation of his cock dragging across your walls mixed with Hongjoong's hands on your tits, pushing you closer to the edge.
"Fuck, you're so pretty," Wooyoung whined, hands falling limply to your thighs as he looked up at you with a fucked-out expression. Then his fingers found your clit, drawing sharp circles on the nerve, causing you to cry out.
It didn't take too much after that for you to tip over the edge, legs going numb as your mouth falls agape. Hongjoong squeezed your soft mounds, eliciting an overstimulated whine from your parted lips as your hips twitched in Wooyoung's lap.
Hongjoong allowed you both to come down from your highs before he brushed a finger across your jaw, "Think you can handle some more, babygirl?"
You leaned into his palm, humming softly as your brain started to get clouded with lust. He then pulled you off Wooyoung's lap, both of you whining at the loss of contact. Hongjoong then turned to Yeosang, who had walked around the couch, handing you over to the blonde.
Yeosang maneuvered your body until you were on your hands and knees on the couch, his hand pressing down on your upper back, right between your shoulder blades. Hongjoong took his seat once more, legs spread wide as he watched Yeosang perch himself behind your bent form.
"Damn, who thought Joong was hoarding such a slutty girlfriend?" Yeosang smirked, grabbing his now-hard cock at the base, dragging the tip through your drenched cunt. His eyes glued to where Wooyoung's cum leaked from your pulsating hole, "Kinda wish he shared earlier."
Hongjoong chuckled, fixing the crook of his trunks as his dark eyes bore into the blonde's head, "Who knows, maybe this will be more than a one-time thing."
Yeosang smirked, pushing just the tip of his cock into your sensitive cunt but not moving, causing you to whine. His grip on your hips tightens when you try to push back against him, then a pitiful squeak falls from your lips when he smacks your ass.
"You hear that, angel? Maybe you'll get another taste of our cocks if you're a good girl." He snickered as the whine you let out before he thrusts forward, sheathing his dick in your walls with one go.
"Nnghh— F-Fuck!" You cried out, body lurching forward as he started plowing into your drenched hold, the loud squelching noises making your ears ring.
"Your needy cunt is sucking me in, as if your boyfriend doesn't fuck you enough." Yeosang chuckles, ignoring the warning glance he was receiving from Hongjoong. You opened your mouth to protest, but were quickly cut off with a high-pitched squeak when he pulled out just to push back in roughly. His pace was nothing short of rough and fast, his thrusts deep—tip kissing your cervix with each roll of his tip, leaving you seeing stars.
One hand stayed on your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh, while the other trailed up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Then his fingers threaded through your hair before yanking your head back, eliciting a loud moan from your lips. He pulled your head back until your back was arched to an almost uncomfortable arch.
"Yeo— fuck, fuck!" You chanted, any coherent sentence disappearing as tears broke from your eyes. Yeosang watched with a smut smirk as your knuckles turned a ghostly shade of white due to how hard you were gripping the arm of the couch.
"Such a pathetic thing, aren't you? This is wrong, yet you're still letting me do this." Yeosang's lip twitched into a smirk as he bit back a groan from how you clenched around him.
A cry broke through your lips when the head of his cock hit that one particular spot inside your drenched cunt. He took note of your reaction before pistoning his hips to hit right against your sweet spot, leaving you a screaming mess underneath him.
"Yeosang!" You screamed his name as his hand released your hair to snake around your waist, pressing harshly against your sensitive clit. Sobs fell from your lips as you felt your high approaching rapidly, the tightness in your belly an all-too-familiar feeling. "Wait, wait, wait, I'm— Yeosang!"
Yeosang glanced over at your boyfriend, who was just watching you with a smug smirk, before looking over at the blonde, "Keep going, this is the fun part."
He wasn't too sure what Hongjoong meant by that, but the way your cunt was squeezing around him was pushing him closer to the edge, his gut tightening. Your head hung low as your body started twitching, silent screams falling from your lips, the faster his finger worked in tandem with his thrusts.
"H-Holy fuck…" Yeosang groaned, pumping his load into your needy hole. The warmth filling your womb was enough to push you over the edge, your vision turning white as you squirted. Yeosang pulled his cock out of you in surprise, his fingers still working against you to pull more of your sweet release from your leaking pussy.
"Y-Yeo—" You choked on another moan, jaw falling slack, and your body trembling as he pulled another—weaker orgasm from your overstimulated body.
"Fuck that's hot as hell." Wooyoung groaned from the chair across from the couch, his abdomen painted in his cum and his hand still slowly stroking his twitching length.
"Dirty, dirty girl, aren't you?" Yeosang berated you, and all you could muster out was a weak whine, teary eyes glancing back at him as you slowly came back down from your previous high. Even if Yeosang's words were mean, his hands weren't; the one still on your hip massaged the sore muscles, allowing your body to relax against him.
Hongjoong walked over to you with a wide grin on his face, fingers wrapping around the back of your neck and gently squeezing. The familiar touch causes you to lift your head, looking up at your magenta-haired boyfriend with a pout, need still burning in your eyes. A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest as he leaned down to be face-to-face with you, lips barely ghosting over yours.
"Still not satisfied without my cock in you, huh, babygirl?" He asked, a sinister undertone in his voice, and you let out a small whine, moving to reach out for him.
"Need you, sir, please." You pouted, hazy doe eyes staring up at him, and Hongjoong smirked before standing straight.
You watch as he moves over to where Wooyoung is sitting, "Go sit over there and enjoy the show." He told the oreo-haired male who smirked before doing as told, taking the seat right next to where you were sitting, hands in your lap. Hongjoong sat down, his legs spread wide open, and your eyes fell to the prominent bulge in his trunks, then he raised a hand, bending two fingers in the 'come here' motion. "Come sit on my lap, sweetheart."
Not a word fell from your lips as you stood on your shaky legs, Yeosang taking your spot as you walked over to Hongjoong. You started to sit on your boyfriend's lap, but he grabbed your hips, stopping you, and you looked at him, slightly confused.
"Turn around, babygirl, gotta give our guests a show." He turned you around so you were facing Wooyoung and Yeosang. Both watched with intrigued eyes as you started squirming in Hongjoong's grip, your need growing tenfold with their eyes on you. A surprised yelp when Hongjoong slapped your ass, "What have I said about patience, babygirl?"
"I-I'm sorry, sir." You choked out, your movements stilling as you waited for your boyfriend's next move.
Yeosang leaned back in his seat, arms falling over the back of the couch, while Wooyoung leaned forward, elbow resting on his knees. Then Hongjoong was pulling his trunks off, letting his cock spring free, the tip leaking pre-cum, and he kicked the fabric to the side. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs and guiding you to his cock.
"J-Joongie." You whined as you felt his tip prodding at your entrance, the lasting sensitivity from your last orgasms making you shiver.
"C'mon, sweetheart, be a good girl now." He growled against your shoulder, and you let out a whimper as you lowered yourself onto him. Your eyes rolled back as he filled you to the brim, hitting all your favorite spots, and your legs instantly started trembling.
Once you were fully seated on Hongjoong's lap, your head fell back onto his shoulder, tears dripping down to his shoulder. Your hands gripped his forearms when he moved to grab your legs, right behind the knees. A pathetic whimper fell from your lips as he pulled your legs up and apart, showing off your stuffed, glistening cunt for the guys to see.
Wooyoung bit back a groan, his fingers wrapping around his aching cock, pulling a whine from his own lips because of the sensitivity. Yeosang's jaw clenched, his cock jumping at the sight, the thought of his and Wooyoung's cum filling your pussy next to Hongjoong's cock made him hard all over again.
"Look at them, honey, you got them all worked up again." Hongjoong chuckled against your shoulder as you tried to lift your eye, hooded eyes catching sight of the two males across from you. The whine that fell from Wooyoung's lip made you clench around Hongjoong, the sound like music to your ears. Hongjoong smirked before lifting your lower body with ease, rolling his hips up into yours, eliciting a loud moan from you.
White spots clouded your vision as he started to thrust into your squelching walls, head lolling back onto his shoulder. Hongjoong nipped at your shoulder, causing you to whine, nails digging into his forearms to try and keep yourself from coming before he allowed you to.
"Keep your eyes on them, babygirl, if you look away, I stop." He warned, and you choked out another moan, but lifted your head nonetheless. Your dazed eyes met Yeosang's, and he smirked, stroking himself as you let out a whimper. Hongjoong peppered kisses all over your shoulder, making you shiver, before his lips brushed the shell of your ear, "good girl."
Then his pace picked up, fucking into you like an animal in heat, and with every brush of his cock against your walls, he had you wanting to topple over the edge already. Incoherent moans and cries of Hongjoong's name fell from your kiss-swollen lips as your back arched against him. One of your hands flew to the back of his head when his lips latched onto the heated skin of your neck, eyes threatening to roll back due to pleasure.
"J-Joong." You whined, eyes fluttering as the coil in your tummy started to tighten once more, barely holding on by a strand.
Hongjoong placed one last kiss on your shoulder before reaching back up to your ear, "Close already, sweetheart?" He asked, and you nodded your head like a broken bobblehead, lips parted as you panted.
"S-Shit!" Wooyoung cried out as Yeosang tugged his head back when he looked down, cum spurting from his cock, covering his thighs and abdomen.
"Clean up this mess since she can't." Yeosang grolwed, pulling Wooyoung towards him by his hair, and the dual-haired male let out a gasp, hands falling to the blonde's thighs, cock standing proudly in his face.
You choked back a moan as you watched Wooyoung easily take Yeosang's length into his mouth. The moan that Yeosang let out had you squirming in Hongjoong's grip. Wooyoung worked on Yeosang's aching cock like it was second nature, and you start to wonder if he's done it before, but then your mind was pulled back to Hongjoong when he delivered a peculiar rough thrust to your throbbing cunt.
"J-Joo—" You gasped as he spread your legs further, allowing him to hit deeper in your gummy walls, and your vision started to black out. He didn't berate you for your head falling back; this time, he just whispered dirty, sinful words in your ear, making you whine, your high right on the tip of your tongue.
"Fuck you feel so good, babygirl," He groaned against your skin, fingers digging into your skin as he felt his own high creeping up on him.
"You're both just a bunch of cock hungry sluts, huh?" Yeosang groaned, hand falling to Wooyoung's head, pushing down just enough to feel him gag around his dick. Wooyoung's fingers gripped Yeosang's thigh, tears dripping from the corner of his eyes as he tried to take most of the blonde cock in his throat.
"Is that what you are, honey? Just a cock hungry slut?" Hongjoong cooed into your ear, and you let out a pathetic whimper, nails digging into the back of his neck to keep your orgasm at bay. Not getting an answer from you, he nipped at your earlobe, "Answer me, sweetie."
"Y-Yes. I want your cock— fuck! And Yeo's— nnghh! Woo's too." You managed to get out as Hongjoong continued to fuck into you, your legs starting to shake uncontrollably.
"Hmm… Don't worry, babygirl, you'll get plenty of it now." Hongjoong murmured, eyes watching as your eyes rolled, walls tightening around his throbbing cock, "go ahead and cum with me, honey."
Yeosang watched with hooded eyes as your body convulsed in Hongjoong's arms, your head crashing into you like a freight train. A high-pitched moan fell from your lips as the magenta-haired man fucked you through it before stilling you in his lap, spilling his seed deep in your walls. Your orgasm hit so hard that your vision swam before blacking out entirely, and you slumped in your boyfriend's lap.
Wooyoung moaned around Yeosang at the sounds that you let out, the vibration suddenly throwing the blonde over the edge once more, and he came, painting the back of Wooyoung's throat white. The dual-haired continued to suck on his cock until the blonde was pulling him off, growling at him for pushing his buttons.
"You're just so easy to rile up," Wooyoung smirked, watching as Yeosang glared at him, relishing in the sting in his scalp from where Yeosang still had a hold of his hair.
"If Y/n wasn't passed out in Joong's arms, I'd fuck you right here and give her a show." He growled, leaning down to Wooyoung's face, not missing the mischievous gleam in his chocolate orbs.
"C'mon, it's getting hot out here, and the last thing I want is any of us to get heat stroke or something. Especially her." Hongjoong lifted you off his cock before laying you in his lap, your tired form curling into his body. He asked Yeosang to hand him the towel on the table, and the blonde released Wooyoung's hair to do just that. "Let's all get cleaned up, and we can talk about this—" he motioned to the four of you, "once we all get some rest."
Then Hongjoong wrapped you in the towel, and all of you went inside, the door closing behind Yeosang, and the possibilities of what was to come were endless.
pairing﹢jeong yunho x fem!reader
genre﹢smut. heavy dialogue, dilf!yunho, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, yunho in his early 40s), original characters for narrative purposes (jeong minho, kim minsoo). manipulative, obsessive + possessive dynamics, cat-and-mouse tension; pet names (sweetheart, darling, baby, princess, etc.). making out + (f) cunnilingus + faked orgasm [with minho]. reader dresses feminine/revealing, jealousy themes, mention of jerking off. brat-taming, finger-sucking + fingering. a lot of praising with a hint of degradation, big dick yunho + implied size kink, missionary position, unprotected sex (don't do that), plan b usage, multiple orgasms + orgasm denial, creampie. aftercare + confession + secret relationship.
synopsis﹢your friend minho is everything a girl is supposed to want — handsome, gentle, the kind of boy who is a keeper, a prince straight from a fairy tale. however, stories like that crumble the moment you meet the man who raised him. one smile, and suddenly you’re standing at a crossroads no one prepared you for: one path will drag you to paradise… the other straight into hell. and you already know which one you’re going to take, because some temptations were never meant to be resisted.
word count﹢20k
𝜗⊹ PLAY THE VINYL RECORD .ᐟ
you first meet JEONG YUNHO in the way most dangerous crushes begin, and that is accidentally.
you’re in his living room, together with his son, sitting on the couch surrounded by snacks, bickering over some stupid video game… when the front door opens and he walks in. not just minho’s dad or some middle-aged guy. a man so attractive and stupidly handsome, it absolutely shouldn't be legal to be that hot. and he's not even that ripped or muscular, but you could tell he had a nice body under his somehow tight clothes.
tall enough to make the doorframe look small, shirt sleeves pushed up over forearms, and you could see his hands, how his veins popped out, and why are you looking at his hands? god, stop staring at your friend’s dad. he gives you one polite nod before opening his mouth. that calm, deep voice that hits so low it makes you forget about the alphabet and how to speak.
“didn’t know minho brought his girlfriend home.” you nearly choke on your drink, as you and minho looked at each other, even blushing slightly from the comment before sputtering out, “w-we’re not– ! i mean– no!”
minho groans, pausing the game to fully focus on his parent and his teasing, “dad, she’s just a friend.”
but yunho’s eyes stay on you. curiously observing you, slowly taking in your features, and he must admit that you are more beautiful than in the photos. of course, he knows about you, and you know about him, but you've never officially met. you're just part of his son's friend group, the girl who has more pictures with him than his own family.
he’s reassessing everything he just assumed: that you are minho’s girlfriend. he wouldn't have minded if you were. he knows his son deserves the best; he'll be happy if there's something between you, and there certainly is. he's not the type of guy who'll bring a girl home unless he has feelings for her.
because why would he want to take a girl to study or play games at their place when that can be done outside? yeah, he knows these games and tricks too well.
“you are (name), right? pleased to meet you, young lady. you can call me yunho, drop the honorifics if you want to.”
and the thing is… he notices the way you suddenly straighten your pose. he sees the way your legs shift under his gaze, pressing together as your voice gets just a little smaller around him, nervous and slightly high. it's not about looking more feminine, it's just about making a good impression. catching every tiny nervous habit, starting from the lip-biting, the fidgeting, the way you can’t look directly at him for too long. does he enjoy it? he absolutely does.
one tiny problem though… yunho is twenty years older. a divorced dad, currently single, but so responsible and mature. knows better than to think such things about someone younger, but he can't help it, can he?
the other problem is also that he’s one fine-looking man, and you’ve grown into a gorgeous woman, someone who looks at him like he’s something you shouldn’t touch but desperately want to.
the way you relax around minho and stiffen when he enters the room tells him everything he needs to know. but before you could completely cease to exist, minho stood up and nodded towards the hallway, hinting that it would be better for you to go to his room for some privacy and to... study.
“(name), do you want to start the project now?” and all you did was nod, getting up way too fast and already following your friend from behind. you didn't want to turn around to see his father, because you knew if you did, there would be no turning back.
“have fun, kiddos,” he said, laughing slightly as he saw you enter the room and close the door. then yunho muttered under his breath, very quietly only for himself to hear, “yeah, studying… nice one, son.”
you are in minho’s room now. for the past hour, you've really been sitting down to study, but weren't motivated at all; your mind was somewhere else.
minho is familiar in a way that doesn’t make your pulse spike or your thoughts scramble. he makes stupid jokes, nudges your shoulder, laughs at your expressions and teases you a lot, because you are so cute when you are flustered, he said so. the laughter fades a little as he looks at you for a moment too long, taking you whole with those loving eyes… next thing you know, you are kissing him.
he kisses like someone who’s studying you carefully and respectfully. keeping a hand on your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth as if he’s afraid to push too far. he’s sweet, so incredibly gentle because he knows better not to rush or demand too much: a good boy. raised well, caring and devoted with a good heart, even when his lips move hungrily against yours.
you like him, you really do.
but you don’t feel that drop in your gut, that full-body shiver, and the quiet ruin me instinct you feel whenever his father walks into a room, or appears like a genie ready to grant your every wish. the butterflies in your stomach are calm with minho, however, once you are in the presence of mr. jeong, they don't know what to do or where to go.
his mouth is warm against yours, as he murmurs your name, pulling you closer by the waist. kissing you like you’re fragile, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to want more, even though he is very much allowed to. you kiss him back because… why wouldn’t you? he’s kind, handsome, easy to be around, someone you can definitely call more than a friend. anyone would feel lucky to be in his lap, to have his fingers tracing patterns on their hips.
just in the middle of it when his hand slides up your back, breath catching softly, you tug on his shirt… a thought flashes through like lightning, taking a root deep inside your mind, and you wonder…how will his father's lips feel on yours? your stomach twists with guilt, heart thumps against your ribs, ready to burst out, and you’re too aware of how wrong this whole thing is. both morally and emotionally, viscerally even.
minho pulls away for air, smiling breathlessly at you, because you are the first girl who makes him feel like this. there are no words to describe it, you are just incredible. of course, he has kissed before, but never like this, with such real emotion that even he feels the butterflies flutter. “(name)...” he pants softly, cheeks flushed. “why did we never do this before?”
because you weren’t sure if you wanted to cross that line. and now every time you look at him…you see yunho. you didn't want to think about how he looked more like his father,, because usually the sons take after their mothers. they were literally like twins, only minho was a little taller, but had absolutely the same features as his father, including his mother's smile, of course, her features could be seen too.
you try to answer, only for your brain to betray you. spinning images of a deeper voice, a steadier grip, a man who looks at you like you’re trouble he wants to handle alone without anyone else interfering. minho misreads your silence as shyness and chuckles, brushing your hair behind your ear. “are you okay? if you want to slow down… i’m sorry if that made you uncomfort–” a soft knock on the door cuts him off, making both of your heads turn at the sound.
“minho?” your entire body freezes the moment you hear him. that deep voice that made your eyes widen, and it wasn't because you were worried he would see you like that; he just had such a beautiful voice. a naturally medium-low tone, there’s a little bit of rasp when he speaks more casually, just enough to make him more charming.
and your friend’s eyes widen just like yours as he whispers, “shit– don’t move, okay? he’s gonna think, just– hold on.” he scrambles off the bed, not before gently making you hop off his lap. hair messed up, shirt slightly rumpled, trying to compose himself quickly. while you’re still breathless with swollen lips, and heart racing for all the wrong reasons.
minho opens the door just a crack, so he can take a peek with part of his head and not let his father see what is going on. mr. jeong is standing there in his coat, broad shoulders taking the spotlight, and so is his slightly longer black hair. gosh, wouldn't it be so nice to run your fingers through his soft locks while he goes down on you?
one hand in his pocket, probably checking for his wallet and keys, his eyes flicking to minho, then past him, landing on you. sitting pretty on the edge of the bed, with a flushed face and uneven breathing like you just walked straight into a hurricane, trying so hard not to look like someone who was just pinned under his son.
yunho’s pushes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, very subtle, almost in secret, hiding the annoyance of catching you like that. he wasn't ashamed that he caught you on the spot: he knew very well what you were doing or were going to do. he just couldn't help but interrupt the fun. excuse him, he had to go out, and warn minho that he might stay late with his friends, or as they are known, his uncles.
“everything alright?” he asks calmly, perfectly masking the emotion he really feels. during his marriage to the first and only woman in his life, minho's mother — kim minsoo, even up until the divorce and after, he learned to control his emotions and the facial expressions he showed. sometimes it was a big plus, especially in situations like these, where he had to take on the role of the cool and super chill dad.
“yeah! yeah, we were just… talking.” minho laughs awkwardly, not letting the door open anymore because, well, it's embarrassing to suddenly have your dad knock on your door while you're doing things with your girl friend... or future girlfriend. the young man still wants to wait and test the waters because he doesn't want to force you to do anything you don’t want to.
the older man just hums, a sound low enough to curl inside your stomach, a vibration so sensational that you need no ultrasound or x-ray to know that something is really wrong with you. he looks at minho again, who tries his absolute best to make his dad go away as fast as possible, but he paid his son no mind, instead he gazed past him right at you again.
“excuse me, min,” apologising, as if he was really sincere about something he didn't want to happen and witness in his house...now that he thought about it, did you do anything else in the moments when he was not here? mmm, small chance, if something had happened, minho would immediately be fluttering with joy that, in fact, he has a girlfriend. these are thoughts for later, although it didn't take long to put two and two together. “didn’t want to interrupt your little study session.”
he talked with his mouth to his son, but for you, he used his eyes, which told you: i saw everything, and i know exactly what you’d prefer. yunho lingers in the doorway longer than he should, enough for you to feel his gaze slide over you like a lion ready to strike at the confused and innocent antelope, that sadly can run too fast. albeit you can never outrun and outsmart a predator, someone with too much experience and tricks up his sleeves isn’t going to back down until he has his prey between his claws and teeth.
then he finally says, sensing how it was going to be too quiet to save his or son’s ass from further embarrassment, “i’m heading out for a bit. there’s food in the fridge. if you need anything else, minho’s got money.” he emphasised the word you, considering you in the equation because after all you were a guest, and shouldn’t be left unsatisfied if you have any cravings.
“dad, it’s alright. don’t worry about it,” minho reassures him, voice getting a little annoyed by how his parent isn’t planning to leave anytime soon. that's why he doesn't like to take anyone to his dad’s place. of course, he has his own apartment, but some of the rooms are currently being renovated, and he can’t stay there.
still yunho isn’t looking at him, not even a little, as his eyes focus on you for what he can count as five seconds, before minho closes the door, saying bye. hearing the lock clicking on the front door, you and he can breathe at peace now. “sorry…” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “he’s like that sometimes, really means no harm.”
he is like what? possessive over someone he just met.
“it’s okay… it happens to everyone that a parent interrupts something at a not-so-right moment,” you mumble some vague agreement, but your thoughts are nowhere near minho’s dad’s intensity. they’re stuck on the way he looked at you just now, eyes that held love or lust, maybe both. you are too scared to analyse his motives and demeanour, like he already knew what you both were about to do.
minho doesn’t give you much time to think about it. his hand cups your face, and he kisses you again. deeper this time, a little desperate, relieved to have the house to himself. making you lie flat on your back on his soft mattress, lips never leaving yours, the soft tug of his fingers guiding you to relax and just enjoy the moment. you’re already breathless by the time his mouth trails along your throat, warm and wet, big hands sliding under your clothes to squeeze your skin. he knows you, knows what you like, especially when the little sounds you make when he touches you just right.
tilting your head back, eyes fluttering shut, letting him take you in a way he’s learned to. but even in the heat of it, when minho pulls you closer underneath him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers your name…there’s a ghost of another touch in your mind.
a man twenty years older, who had looked at you with something dangerously close to claiming you with only a few words, letting his eyes do most of the talking.
you shouldn’t think about him, not while minho is all over you, pulling soft moans and gasps from you, making you feel so damn good with his slender hands and slim fingers, a mouth and a mind that worships you — but in the end, you do what you shouldn’t.
wondering, if minho can make you fall apart like this… what would yunho feel like? how strong would his hands be on your hips? how different would his mouth sound when he says your name? how will he feel?
shivering and arching your back slightly, from thinking about yunho when his son goes down on you. guilt instead of pleasure, and he groans softly, spreading your legs and positioning himself between them. “you’re just… perfect,” he whispers against your skin, completely unaware that your heartbeat is racing for an entirely different reason, or that you are imagining someone else instead.
your chest is still rising and falling, even if you are excellent at acting, masking discomfort or lack of arousal, you do try to come with mimicking sounds, breathing patterns, and find physical cues. you are faking your orgasm. it’s not manipulation; not everyone has strong physical contractions before orgasming.
it’s to avoid pressure, to end a session that isn’t working, or because you feel self-conscious about how long it’s taking for him to make you cum with his tongue. yes, he is skilled, incredible even. if it were any other girl, she would probably want more and more, but... why are you like this? it's disgusting how in such a short time your brain, no, you yourself, decided to switch from minho to yunho. your world was spinning, and it wasn't because of the man between your legs, but because of the man who was consuming your every thought.
and what it would be like if he were the one to make you see stars instead.
dinner at the jeong household is usually lively, no matter what time they eat. in fact sometimes, when the dad is out with his friends and doesn't stay up that late, he always stops by his son's favorite dining place to buy food. both men have a lot to talk about, whether it was for work or university, there was always something to say or discuss. but tonight, there’s a tension under the surface that only one of them recognises. that feeling of wanting to brag about something you've done, especially with such a beautiful girl…
minho is eating happily, humming under his breath, still flushed from earlier and too lost in his thoughts to realise he looks like someone freshly and blissfully wrecked. and he didn't blush because the food was warm or slightly spicy, merely because he was still thinking about you. seeing and imagining you in a different light now, in a different pose, like a muse. beautiful inspiration, putting some kind of spell because he's simply fascinated by you.
yunho notices everything, from the way his son’s lips tug upwards out of nowhere when eating his noodles, to not responding immediately when asked a question, since there was a delayed reaction of several seconds. lowering his chopsticks down slowly, asking casually:
“why didn’t she stay for dinner?”
minho shakes his head, snapping out of his daze. “she had other plans tonight with her friends. i drove her there to make sure she arrived safely.”
the older man just let out a hum, a soft and thoughtful sound, too neutral to be neutral. because he raised his son well when it came to manners and being a gentleman, he doesn’t look up right away at the youngster as he takes another bite. instead, he chews and swallows, ready to ask yet another question like the good parent he is.
“so,” he says lightly, wondering if he should eat the kimchi or the tteokbokki, “you and her… spending more time together lately?”
the question itself is subtle, perfectly phrased to sound like normal fatherly interest, when it isn’t. it’s calculated and measured, designed to coax exactly what he wants out of minho. and minho, bless his sweet heart, falls right into it. he blushes as his face turns strawberry red; even his ears turn red, rubbing the back of his neck, and he smiles like an idiot in love.
“uh… yeah,” he admits sheepishly. “we are a lot more, actually.”
yunho lifts his gaze to take a good look at his son. his expression is perfect, soft and supportive, that of a proud father who just wants to know if his kid is doing alright; it's completely normal to be concerned, especially if a woman appears in his life. his eyes are sharp, watching minho’s every micro-expression, analysing and assessing.
“happy to hear that, min,” he remarks with a warm smile, and minho brightens immediately at his father’s approval, “she seems like a wonderful girl.”
“i know, right? she is just amazing… honestly, i wish i had met her sooner.”
the older nods, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his arms. “so tell me more,” he urges, not demanding his son to spill everything, “what is it you like most about her?” he phrases it like curiosity, but it sounds like a coiled interest he’s trying very hard to restrain.
“oh man– where do i even start? she’s funny, dad. like… stupidly funny. i don't want to mention that she is extremely beautiful because that is a thing on its own. and she gets me, y’know? not a lot of people do.”
“i see,” he murmurs. “she must mean a lot to you, then.”
“yeah,” minho says softly, still with that lovesick expression on his face, “she does.”
“and she’s… comfortable here, i assume?” too casual and carefully disguised as fatherly caring.
“oh, totally,” minho states without thinking twice. “not the first time she has been over, actually. if we don’t count the time when we, changmin, hyunwoo and sarang used the place to get our mid-term project done. remember when you and uncle san went on that business trip so you could take photos in namhae? it was then that she said that your apartment feels like a second home.”
yunho’s fingers tighten around his arm, just enough to betray a crack in his composure. so that's how it was, using the place while he was gone. but you were certainly in the presence of other people to do other things, it seems. yunho why are you getting irked.. as if you didn't do the same two decades ago?
“did she now?”
minho doesn’t notice the way his father’s eyes let go of that sparkle and wonder, as he keeps rambling so eagerly and proudly.
“she keeps telling me you’re ‘intimidating but in a good way.’ like… in a comforting way, i guess? i dunno, i think she respects you a lot, just like everybody else.”
respect, huh? yunho’s lips curl, almost mockingly. if only minho knew the look you gave him earlier…respect wasn’t the word.
“hmm,” the father hums once again, lowering his gaze to look at the food and hiding the fact that, as much as he loved his son, he wanted to laugh at how naive he was sometimes. don’t get him wrong, okay? it's just that if he’s going to do something with someone, and that something includes the word romance, then try not to include the word delusion in the mix. “that’s good. glad to hear you have good people around you.”
minho beams, finally taking another bite of his rice, because he didn’t want to talk anymore. yunho watches him and thinks about you, flushed and breathless on the edge of minho’s bed. how your eyes were darting toward him earlier when you first saw each other. about how you avoided his gaze…and how your body reacted anyway. he doesn’t let any of that touch his expression, and just simply says, with that same certainty of someone who has already decided their goal and how to achieve it.
“you should invite her more often then.”
“really?”
yunho nods slowly to totally convince his son that it's okay with him to that the two of you see each other, and that he approves of you. it's okay that his son is currently considered a competition, but you know what they say — keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
“yes, i’d like to get to know her better,” and he means to know you inside and out.
a week later, you are outside the jeongs’ apartment again, and a tiny part of you wishes you hadn’t come at all. you can already feel his presence even if you don’t know if he is home because minho hasn’t told you, and you hope he doesn’t jumpscare you like some ghost or a monster ready to feast upon yet another scared soul.
you knock politely, the door swings open, and there he is. the seven deadly sins reincarnated in a human body with a mind of its own. relaxed and all casual, wearing a simple black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, hair slightly mussed like he just woke from a nap. unfair to look that good, seriously, what is wrong with him…no, what is wrong with you? stop looking at him like he's a piece of meat, and even worse, because your eyes didn't know where to focus. on his face, his hands, or the fact that, damn it, he's wearing grey sweatpants.
stop staring at his face, stop staring at his throat, at the outline of his d— okay, stop staring entirely.
“ah,” he says with that low, warm voice, covering his mouth with his hand when a yawn escaped. so you woke him up from his nap, great, just great. “you’re back.”
bowing your head slightly to show respect, hiding every thought he shouldn’t know you’re having. it's only two in the afternoon, there's no need to start the torture so early, but alas, you walked alone and fell into the trap.
“good afternoon, mister jeong.” he lifts a brow. did you sound rude? stiff? awkward? you have zero idea what tone came out of your mouth ten seconds ago, and now it’s too late to crawl into the ground. why the hell are you so stressed? it's just minho's father, you shouldn't be scared, or worried so much about what he thinks of you. because you actually don't know what he thinks, maybe you don’t want to know…or do you? so many questions are running in your head that you don’t hear him speaking.
“i told you, sweetheart,” he says quietly, stepping aside to let you in, almost not wanting to make a remark to you or sound threatening; that's not his goal. he just wants you to feel comfortable, after all, you said this is like your second home, “you can call me yunho.”
you swallow after hearing the nickname. it’s not that no one calls you by pet names or cute little nicknames, like the old lady in the supermarket, but it sounds so different coming from his mouth. “right… yunho.” his name sounds forced on your tongue, or maybe foreign, not used to calling your friends’ parents by their name, and he notices the way you were a little hesitant to do so.
minho appears behind him, cheerful and oblivious, grabbing your bag and dragging you toward the living room, rambling about the project you came for. but yunho’s eyes stay glued to you until you turn the corner in the hallway, watching you walk away like he’s memorising every step you take in his home, or should he say luring trap. there's a lot of work to do, and it's not just the chores.
now you’re sitting on the couch with your laptop open, waiting for minho to return from his room to get the books with the needed information. after you have been working for a few hours, you start to feel that subtle awareness crawling up your spine. you felt like spiderman with your spidey senses being activated the moment you sensed some kind of a warning threat.
yunho walks into the living room, a mug of coffee in hand. he doesn’t announce himself, doesn’t need to; it’s his home, he can go whenever he wants. but you still needed a place to study, so he didn’t come into the room so as not to disturb you. he would mostly sit in the kitchen or his room, reading something or dealing with his photography work.
he sits in the armchair across from you, angled just enough that his knees point toward you, not the tv. completely resting, enjoying the peace and quiet that you brought when you visited. “working hard?” he asks, sipping from his drink.
“trying to.” you nod, too focused on looking at your screen to find the perfect images for the presentation. his gaze drifts from your laptop to your fingers resting on the keyboard, and to your exposed collarbone. a nice outfit, he thinks, a skirt with tights and a crop top, it's not something scandalous or revealing, but it leaves a little to his imagination.
“minho tends to slack when he’s comfortable,” he murmurs before pausing because that made you take a look at him. “and you make him very comfortable.”
“is that your way of saying i’m a bad influence?”
“no, if anything… you’re very good for him.” he chuckles, shaking his head at your question, maybe even an accusation, it seems it is. even so, he’s staring at you in a way that doesn't match his words.
“then why do you look like you don’t want me here?”
heat starting to sweep across his features before he masks it again. “don’t mistake restraint for dislike. you’re plenty welcome here, anytime and any day.”
your pulse speeds up because you don't know what to say in return. do you say thank you, next or just pretend that you are not clicking random apps on your laptop so you seem occupied. there’s a long silence before he adds again:
“though i do wonder… why you seem nervous around me?”
"i'm not nervous.” you try to sound indifferent, bored even, but he smirks at the way you play hard to get. a ghost of a smile that makes your stomach twist.
“no?” he leans back in the chair, like settling in for a show. stretching out, spreading his long legs casually in a way that’s anything but that. “then why won’t you look me in the eyes?”
you force your gaze up to meet his, and immediately regret it. his eyes pin you in place, like he’s reading you, memorising every twitch and breath you couldn’t take, undoing you without even touching you. he studies you openly, like he has every right, and even if you didn’t want to let him do that, you still did.
“what do you think about,” he murmurs, a tone and intonation so teasing that the red lamp in your brain can't stop malfunctioning. “when i walk into a room?”
your mind goes blank. you blink at him, stunned that he’d actually say something like that out loud. you can’t answer that; he knows you can’t. he leans forward, setting his mug on the small glass table with a quiet clink, elbows rest against his knees, pulling him closer even if he is not directly next to you. voice dropping so low it feels like a warm breath dragging across your skin, edging and torturing you to finally crack.
“because i know,” he says, eyes fixed on your mouth before lifting to your eyes again, “it isn’t the same thing you think about when minho walks in.”
your heart is going to burst at any given second from panic and shock. you open your mouth to say something, defend yourself in some sort, but footsteps echo down the hall. yunho stands immediately, mask sliding into place so seamlessly it makes you dizzy. minho walks back in, smiling while holding a bunch of text and notebooks in his hands.
“sorry, it took a long time to find it! i— oh, hey dad.”
yunho smiles, the perfect father again. the transformation makes him look like a completely different man. “i was just keeping her company,” he says jokingly alas, you know it’s no joke. “don’t keep her waiting, or someone might steal her away.”
you choke on absolutely nothing when minho plops onto the couch beside you, totally oblivious. but as yunho walks past, he pauses behind you, waiting for minho to get up again, even if it's just for a few seconds to be distracted, enough for you to hear the quiet, subtle whisper he hides behind a sip of coffee:
“when my son isn’t home…” you froze, you couldn't move from the tension. “…you’ll ask me what you really want.” then he walks out of the room like nothing had happened, and you’re trying your very best not to pack your things and leave, not caring if you get a bad grade on this stupid project.
god, it’s starting to feel dangerous, like you started a game where you don't know how to play or what the rules are. and worse, you don’t know if you want to save yourself anymore, or just wait until you reach the next level. there must be better rewards there, right? no matter how tough the challenges along the way will be, and regardless of the fact that the mastermind behind the game you started was yunho himself.
you worked all day, and by the time the project is wrapped up, it turned night. you’re packing your things when lightning cracks across the sky, and raindrops drop down the glass so hard it looks like the house is underwater. the storm rolls in like it was waiting for the exact moment you shouldn’t leave. minho looks out, frowns, then turns to you with that worried look on his pretty face, like a cute little puppy ready to protect his owner. “no way i’m letting you go out in that weather,” he urges, already getting up to make his position clear. “stay for the night, dad won’t mind.”
you hesitate, because you didn't want to stay, and it's not that he couldn't drive you to your place, but taking the risk and driving in weather like this was a suicide mission. trying to open your mouth to protest, you’re suddenly standing in the bathroom with an oversized shirt and some pants in your hands.
minho’s shirt still smells freshly laundered, maybe not even worn for a long time, but you pull it on anyway, because you have no other choice since you didn’t expect to have a sleepover at the predator’s den.
a few minutes later, when you were ready and changed into your “pajamas”, you find yourself walking toward the guest room minho set up for you. fingers tugging the hem of the shirt, considering it’s too big, falling mid-thigh, sleeves swallowing your hands, when you nearly run into him. standing by the door of the living room, turning off lights, but he freezes the second he sees you.
completely still, like the storm outside has nothing on the one in his heart. his gaze drops slowly, taking in your bare legs, the oversized shirt, the way it hangs off your shoulder just a little. he couldn't understand how someone could look so good in such ordinary clothes. did you know that this t-shirt was his? probably not, since he had given it to his son a long time ago as a gift. it wasn't even that special; the design that minho thought was cool was almost worn out, but it’s still sentimental to this day.
“you look…” yunho starts, then stops, brown eyes never leaving the sight of your figure, and how domestic this all feels. “…comfortable.” shrugging your shoulders, giving him that smile, the one he’s already learned to read too well. you step closer, until you’re close enough to feel the warmth of his body, the scent of the strong perfume on his skin.
“do you mind that i’m staying here?” you tilt your head, letting your voice dip just a little, making you sound so innocent, and nice, almost sorry for trashing his home and privacy. his inhale isn’t loud, but you hear it, and for a split second, you're the one who leaves him speechless. he looks at you like he could devour the question right out of your mouth, or devour you if you keep that little act going on.
“mind?” his voice is a rough whisper now. if anything, he should be thankful that it's raining dogs and cats outside because you don’t get such a view and entertainment for free. “of course not, my dear.” he takes one slow step toward you, and your back is against the wall, his long arms caging you in, crowding your space without touching you, his eyes skimming your lips before snapping back to your eyes.
“but you should be careful with that smile.” you blink up at him, pretending not to know exactly what he means, still with that defiant smile on your beautiful face. so far, so fake, he thinks. you're a good actress around minho, but not with him. he's already read the script, knowing what's going to happen, but it's up to you whether or not there's a culmination point, or the end is what you truly want.
“why?”
“because,” he’s murmuring, his breath brushing your cheek as he leans in just enough that the gap between you becomes something intimate. his gaze is lingering on your mouth, those sweet lips that will probably taste like honey, then going back to stare into your eyes with that determination of someone you shouldn't mess with, “you don’t look innocent in my clothes.”
the way he said it gave you literal chills, because it's his t-shirt? and he only smirked when a flash of lightning illuminated the hallway, and he stepped back at the last second, enjoying your reaction, your willingness to resist your needs.
as minho calls your name, yunho’s eyes flick to the cotton tee one more time as his expression resets instantly, to that calm and fatherly energy. as if he wasn't ready to kiss you here and now, while his son wasn't in his room or wherever. this is going to sound cruel, even insensitive, but in this play, minho is just a pawn, a secondary character who contributed to nothing but his own doom.
“you should get some rest, big day of studying tomorrow,” just before he turns away to go to his room, he adds so quietly you almost think you imagined it. “…sweet dreams, sweetheart.”
you don’t know if it’s a promise disguised as politeness, or a boundary disguised as permission. maybe it’s a line that he has now placed directly at your feet, waiting to see if you’ll step over it… but what you didn't know was that you were almost at the finish line.
you can't sleep, can't even relax with all the tossing and turning, trying to doze off for a little while, but you really can’t. you just opened your eyes and stared at the ceiling, breathing a little heavy because you were angry about something, irritated, perhaps a little disappointed. running a hand over your face, which smoothly flowed down your body, over the t-shirt until it reached your shorts, and you pressed your legs together, rubbing them.
what a sinner you are, and what a temptation he is.
it wasn't that you couldn't satisfy yourself, even though you weren't really in the mood for it, but the hormones inside you wouldn't stop raging. and it would be a bit impudent to do something like that in someone else's home, because how will you explain why the sheets are stained? yeah, you won't take any chances. maybe you'll just get up to drink some water, or even splash a bit on your face to wash those filthy thoughts away.
thunder rolls somewhere in the distance, softer now, which means the storm is starting to pass. you expect the kitchen to be dark, for you to be alone, maybe steal something sweet from the fridge, except someone had already occupied the place before you.
the air in the kitchen smells like rain and…smoke? it’s definitely cigarette smoke, even though the window is still cracked open, the scent lingers filling your nostrils.
you tell yourself that you didn’t just catch a glimpse of yunho’s silhouette framed by moonlight, shoulders broad, one hand resting against the window frame as the other flicked something subtle and glowing out into the dark. a thin ribbon of smoke curls up in front of him, watching him exhale slow and steady into the night like a man hiding a habit he’s not willing to explain. it's kinda hot.
you pretend to be blind and deaf, but the second his voice strikes you, all that pretending snaps like a cheap wire put to mask the real trap ahead. he doesn’t turn around; already knows you’re there the second your foot meets the tile.
“did i wake you up, sweetheart?”
the pet name hits first, then the tone. it’s so soft, polite, you can catch the raspiness of the sleep, which he paused for this. you didn't know he smoked; you’ve been here so much, and you've never seen lighters or cigarette packs before. minho never mentioned it, because he doesn’t smoke. you’ve never smelled it in his car, his clothes, anywhere, until now.
you freeze halfway to the sink, about to quietly back away and mind your business, pretend you saw nothing. he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the balcony ledge, hidden from no one and appearing out of nowhere, closing the window in the process.
“i’m sorry if the squeaking door woke you,” he adds, footsteps approaching at a lazy, unhurried pace, but you heard him sit down on one of the chairs at the table because the wood scratched the floor slightly. “it drives minho crazy, but he’s used to it by now.”
no door squeaked; you heard absolutely nothing.
instead you took a cup, ready to fill it, but you swallow your spit so painfully hard, gripping the glass a little tighter. “ah, no… i just got thirsty, mr. jeong.” he doesn’t answer immediately, and you can feel him right behind you now, even if he is sitting two meters away. you lift the glass to the faucet, letting the water run to cover the sound of your breathing.
a quiet hum coming from him, “mr. jeong,” he repeats, slower this time, tasting the words as they amuse him. “you don’t need to be that formal with me. didn’t i tell you to call me yunho?”
your fingers tense around the glass, still, you don’t turn. you know yourself too well. if you look at him like this in the middle of the night, voice dropping low, smoke still ghosting his breath, you won’t be able to hide anything.
“yes, right i um–,” you mumble. “sorry, still getting used to it.”
“don’t be,” chuckling at your behaviour, and you can imagine the smirk on his face even if you don’t see it. “it’s cute.”
the faucet shuts off; you realise you turned it off without thinking. hand trembled slightly, you were trying to breathe normally, not as if you were about to be given a death sentence. bringing the glass to your lips, you still don’t turn around. you wanted to say something, to break this silence that wasn't awkward at all, but quite heated.
“do you always smoke?” you ask, deflecting, merely testing while poking the beast with a stick. he notices, and he loves it. you are so sweet and gorgeous, he would really eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner if he could, or if there was no one else in the apartment. and you are even cuter when you pretend that you don't want it either.
“to be fair, no,” noting smoothly, playing with his fingers, but his eyes were digging holes in your back. “just on nights when i’m… restless.” you can’t tell if that was meant to sound suggestive or if you’re just hearing everything through a filter of tension.
“so, you and minho are getting along well?”
you blink at your water, throat suddenly dry even if you took a big sip, “of course… we care about each other.”
yunho leans forward, elbows on the table, and the faint kitchen light makes him look every bit the man minho might grow into one day, but never quite match.
“you’re close with my son, and i’m glad for that. he looks happy around you, and that tells me a lot about you.”
it sounds genuine, and surprisingly, it is. of course, aside from the dirty thoughts about you, and the fact that you're the same age as the young man who sleeps peacefully and deeply in his room. one thing yunho is grateful for is that when his son falls asleep, he becomes like a bear in hibernation.
“like what?”
the older man just smiles at your rhetorical question, because truthfully, what does he know about you? oh well, maybe the fact that minho hasn't stopped talking about you in the last two months since he's been here until the renovations are finished. the important question here is, what does he not know? and you'll be surprised how little he doesn't know about you.
“that you give your attention very generously…” his gaze flicks down your body and back up, subtly biting his lower lip. the way he looked at you… shame on you, not knowing what you're missing in your attempts to swallow your ego and the fact that you're such a good girl. “…but only to the ones who’ve earned it.”
“and you think you’ve earned it?” you fire back, a little provocative and teasing, but be careful what you say, and how you say it, because yunho is a person who remembers. he can always use your words against you, and you don't want to see that side of him so early.
“no, darling...perhaps not yet.” he chuckles, truly smitten by you, and you're nothing like his ex-wife. even though in some ways, minsoo was like that when she was young, but she didn't pull any tricks — showed him right away that she wanted him. but back then, it was different; there weren't such taboo things like the age difference, or the fact that the father liked his son's girl friend. and you and minho aren't together yet, so to some degree, even secretly, he can afford to do such things. “but i know how to, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing.”
the glass nearly slips from your fingers, and you are still with your back to him, and you know it’s rude for you to stay like that, but you are not ready to give in yet. because if he knows how to gain your attention, let him work for it. the fact that you have some kind of attraction to him doesn't mean anything right now, because nothing but secret conversations and glances have happened so far.
and your problem is that you like to see how much redder the flag can get. even if he's going to sleep right now, leaving you to ponder alone about how you got into such a mess in the first place.
for the past three months, your attitude has changed. yunho notices how you dress a little nicer when you know he might be home. a short skirt or a dress, depending on the weather outside. sometimes it’s something soft and feminine, sometimes tight enough that it hugs every line of your body like you’re offering it to someone. minho thinks it’s for him, and of course, he does, with all the smiles and red cheeks while complimenting you shyly.
but yunho knows better; he knows who you’re actually dressing up for.
you avoid calling him by his name, because it sounds too domestic to just leave your lips, even if he tells you there's nothing to worry about, he won't eat you... or at least the plan is not to, as of now.
“there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he tells you. “i don’t bite.” it’s a lie, because he absolutely would, and you both know it.
you still remember the incident when you caught him smoking, and it left a core memory in your mind. hair messy, shirt slipping off his shoulder, cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers, you thought you’d forgotten how to breathe. the moment you went home the next morning and used every toy you owned, pathetic and angry, crying into your pillow because it wasn’t him. trying to chase something that didn't felt even half as good as the fantasy you kept in your head. your body already chose him before your mind could catch up. you felt sorry for yourself, thinking that sleeping with someone's father was going to be so hard, but at the same time so easy.
you get turned on just by hearing his voice. when yunho cooks dinner in front of you and minho, it’s torture. the way he dices vegetables with those big hands… hands that could do much, much worse things. the low hum in his chest when he tastes something he’s made. the soft grin he gives you whenever minho isn’t looking. god, even the way he explains photography to you is sinful. he stands behind you, chest brushing your back, hand covering yours as he adjusts the lens. teaching you how to properly hold it so your photos come out better and more professional.
“not like that, sweetheart. watch my fingers,” and you do watch too closely, because you wonder how his fingers will feel somewhere else.
and speaking of the camera — the photoshoot minho begged him to lend his camera for, the photos you immediately posted on instagram? your friend forgot to delete the ones that were a little too suggestive, the ones where your shirt slipped, where your lips looked parted and kiss-bitten.
good thing he didn't, otherwise how else would yunho have spent half the night jerking off quietly in his room, hand over his mouth, replaying those photos of you on the big computer screen? fuck, you look so hot at this specific angle and the pose you did… shit, shit, shit, he was about to come, imagining it was your hand not his, or maybe your mouth sucking him off, better one, milking him dry with your pretty cunt. he came with your name in his mouth.
and in between all that, there were moments, secret and filthy things that minho never noticed.
like when you are in a cramped spot, and yunho’s hands find your waist. gentle and guiding, fingers tightening just slightly as he moves you aside, squeezing your hip, his thumb dragging lower than necessary. and he always leans in just enough for you to feel the bulge in his pants, to whisper filth against your ear.
“keep wearing skirts like that, and i won’t be able to behave.”
you pretend to be annoyed, rolling your eyes, scoffing, pretending he means nothing. but you never move away, or push him off. he’s the golden-retriever type — loyal, friendly, a mood-maker. just like the dog, he is not suited to be left alone for long periods after getting attached. they follow and wait by the door when they’ve chosen someone.
sometimes you walk past each other in the hallway, and he presses a palm against the small of your back, fingers lingering with a warm touch. “move, darling,” he murmurs behind you, thinking that one day you’re going to beg him to keep his hand right here.
not ready to give in yet? why not drop the act and admit you’re practically offering yourself at him?
like you don’t lean back into his touch, as if you don’t crave more. if he is a dog, then you’re the cat pretending not to care. brushing past him, all attitude and sharp claws, acting indifferent while your tail curls around his leg.
the push-and-pull between you lasts weeks, months even. he is playing the long game, and so are you. even with minho getting closer, subtly asking you out, you never give him a real answer. you never give him a chance to become your boyfriend.
yunho praises you for that, applauds you for how convincingly you act around minho, and how you dodge every attempt the boy makes to define what you two are.
“smart girl,” he whispers one night at your nth visit, cigarette again between his lips as you sit prettily on that chair and observe him, while enjoying his company more than you should, “don’t let him have what isn’t his.”
minho isn’t pressuring you; he’s taking it slow, seeing you in a soft romantic light. he blushes when you touch him, gets shy when you praise him. he dreams of you in the way boys your age do, even if you don't believe that someone could be such a romantic. you feel stupid because he deserves someone else and not you.
yunho dreams of you in every way a man shouldn’t dream of someone his son brings home.
and then there was that night. you and minho got drunk with friends and called yunho to pick you up. you were so wasted, clinging to his arm, as you slid into the passenger seat.
“thank you, minho’s daddy…” you sang softly, hiccuping and just being overly nice and clingy. minho didn’t react because he was too drunk and lost in his own world to process your behavior. poor boy was on cloud 9, had to lie down in the backseat, and try not to spill everything he chugged and ate.
the older, however, nearly crashed the car. because when he carried you inside his apartment, you were all giggles and sleepy smiles. top sliding down, your breasts nearly spilling out, as your skirt rode up to reveal delicate lingerie, no, not panties. lingerie, as in sheer lace and pretty little bows. is that victoria’s secret? you came prepared, didn't you?
you slept on the couch that night, and yunho didn’t sleep at all when he helped minho get into his own bed. he stayed awake, watching your chest rise and fall, fighting every urge in his body, gripping the couch so hard he left crescent-shaped marks on the leather.
tucking a blanket over you, he tried not to look, but failed. you were just so... beautiful, calm in his presence for once, even with your eyes closed and your body relaxed. he steps back first, because he is good and disciplined, a man who sees straight through you. it’s enough to make your knees weak and pussy throb.
the way he looks at you…like he wants to bend you over right here and then, like it’s taking effort not to, as if the only thing holding him back is the thin thread of responsibility. you’ve spent months teasing him, tempting him, brushing your foot against the fire, but never stepping into the flame, and honestly, he had enough.
because one weekend of you sleeping over again, you get too bold when minho leaves with a cheerful, “i’ll be back in fifteen minutes!” as he goes to the store to grab snacks and your favorite drink for tonight’s movie night. you wave sweetly, watch the door shut, and listen to the lock click.
you shouldn’t be alone with yunho dressed like this, but that’s the entire point. sitting on the arm of the couch instead of the cushion, and he sits in the armchair at the other end. maybe you like knowing he’s trying so hard to keep himself in check, that he’s practically can’t hold it for longer when you wear shorts so tiny they barely qualify as fabric, that it’s basically an invitation. you don’t look at him at first, that would be too obvious. instead, you adjust your tank top, tugging the strap just to let it snap back against your skin.
he knows you want attention, that’s what brats do — they poke, push boundaries just to see the other party react in any way, harmless or not. except the way you poke him is by sliding your tongue over your teeth, slowly, then smiling sensually, challenging him.
that’s when he looks up. his tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, that signature move that always means one thing: he is not annoyed or flustered…he’s mad. a muscle in his jaw twitches as he stands there, pretending he’s unaffected. you can tell he’s not with the way his gaze drags over your bare legs, the soft inhale he takes, the way his fingers tighten on his phone. he’s holding onto the last thread of self-control he has.
you did it. you made him look, feeling so proud and reckless as you stand there like you’re the one in control… but you aren’t, never were.
“you’re awfully confident today.” you can hear it in his voice that he's fed up, but you shrug one shoulder, pretending you haven’t been waiting all week for a moment alone with him. you can't be here every day, even if you wanted to, but there was one problem, and it would be back in fifteen minutes. oh, what a villain you are. you play the role of the little mermaid, charming the prince minho is, but in reality, you are a siren, luring a pirate like yunho deep into the sea of unholiness.
“maybe i just feel comfortable enough.” another lie spills past your lips, and you know he knows. no one in their right mind will dress like that when in the presence of someone's parents, or would talk and act as if they’ve never seen a man in their lives.
“funny,” he points out, watching you, and you like it, “because you only dress like that when he’s gone.”
“coincidence, no?” you raise your eyebrows, an innocent expression that hides every dirty little thought you've had so far. you shouldn’t be smug, but you are. angling your legs a little more, showing off what he could give you, a bigger reaction, you are not satisfied yet. then your stupid mouth moves before your brain can catch up. “or maybe…” you lean forward, smirking, “you’re imagining it.”
that’s the moment you push too far. the subtle change in his face, the way his eyebrows furrow, giving you that mocking i dare you look, or how his chest rises with a slow inhale when he sets his phone down.
“say that again,” and there’s nothing sweet about the way he says it. oh. you didn’t expect him to actually call out your bluff. blinking up at him, lashes fluttering like you’re clueless, pretending you don’t feel the heat between your legs.
“hm? i didn’t say anything.”
he doesn’t smile or play along. that’s the stupid thing about you: keep tugging on the monster’s tail because you like hearing it growl. because the little game you thought you were playing? he never participated.
“sweetheart,” voice dropping, turning into something that hits your spine like a shiver. he isn’t asking. he’s demanding. “don’t make me ask twice.”
rolling your eyes because you’re a brat before anything else. your smirk almost slips, but you’re too stubborn to back down, wrapped up in your own fantasy of control. you never had the upper hand. that the little game you thought you were playing wasn’t a game to him at all. the joker you thought you could play with was never in your hand, it was in his.
and now you’ve cornered yourself with your own arrogance, alone with a man who looks at you like he’s two seconds away from teaching you exactly what happens to brats who forget their place, because you’re his to deal with. unfortunately fifteen minutes would not be enough for that.
you just need one more final push before you finally end up in his bed.
you barely finish saying hi before you realise you shouldn’t have come alone, or when minho isn’t here. yunho stands in the doorway, as if he were specifically waiting for the second you’d show up, and it was giving you the chills. you're back to square one again, because that security you had, even the advantage that he couldn't do anything to you in the presence of another person, was instantly gone.
“come on in,” he says, voice already so kind, but at the same time so secretive, as if he had more to say but bit his tongue in the process. you step inside as he shuts the door. and when the lock clicks, your breath stops right in your lungs, so hard it almost hurts, making the anxiety rush through every vein and blood cell. his eyes haven’t left you since you walked in, “minho said you forgot something.”
“yeah, just my headphones and textbooks… i’ll be quick–”
“slow down, darling, no need to hurry…” his tone slices through your excuse like a thunderbolt that has already struck more than once, “hey, (name)...you’re shaking, is everything alright?”
you weren’t shaking until now. the man steps closer, the kind of pace that tells you he’s been imagining this far longer than he should. and it was very stupid of him to ask such a question, to call you by such a name, but of course that's jeong yunho. he, whose patience has run thin, he whose emotions and needs are not met and satisfied, but only tested until the glass overflows to the point that it falls to the ground and breaks, with no way back. you will either pick up the pieces or walk on them; it’s completely your choice.
“you keep coming back here,” murmuring, reaching past you for nothing in particular, just to force you to feel the warmth of him at your back. “and every time you do… you look like you want something from me.”
“i don’t–”
“don’t lie to me.”
goosebumps appear on your skin so fast you forget what you came to pick up. for the first time in your life, you were scared and under so much stress, because it happened... you were finally cornered, the troublemaker was finally going to get her punishment. remember, you did it to yourself. you wanted him more than anything, so why do you want to run away now? suddenly you won't be such a brat and provocateur, hmm? you didn't know whether to turn around or wait for him to do something, because you have no visibility; unfortunately, no pair of eyes at the back of your head.
he turns you around, though not fully. you gaze at his big, veiny hand that makes contact with your jaw, his finger under your chin, rotating your head, and the second you look up, meeting his face, you know you’re done for.
“do you know how hard you make it to be a good man?”
he steps in, and the space between your bodies disappears. your lips part, but nothing comes out, not a single sound, as he tightened his grip slightly, holding you tightly, staring into your soul with those chocolate, but so dark eyes of his. they were swallowing you whole, drinking you in slowly, and his index finger touched your lower lip, so soft and tender and slightly moistened.
“you walk in here in that little coat,” he whispers, like confessing sins directly onto your being, finally saying his confessions at the altar, “smelling like my son’s cologne, allowing yourself to do whatever you want, smiling like you don’t know what those little stunts did to me all this time…”
you react exactly the way he expects you to, recklessly, by the way you scoff. you actually dare to scoff at him, mouth curling into that smug bratty grin that always spells trouble. “maybe it’s all in your head,” too confident for your own good. “maybe i’m not doing anything to you at all.”
“careful.” the way his voice is barely contained makes your smile go wider. shrugging like you’re invincible but your free trial has already expired.
“why? you gonna do something about it?”
you shouldn’t have said that. his tongue presses into the inside of his cheek again. simmering expression you’ve seen enough times to know you’re in danger and too turned on to care. it's more fun to watch him struggle than to see him act immediately, and there's no hiding it; you liked seeing him act like that.
“you little brat,” he’s not even angry anymore, just done. “you really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
you open your mouth to bark again, but his fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him. your words die on your tongue, swallowed by the sudden heat spiralling in your lower stomach.
“yunho…” congratulations on saying his name for the first time without worrying about how it will sound, because it sounds exactly as he imagined it — pathetic and needy. it’s practically an invitation written in blood, sealed with a piece of your soul, smelling of your sweet perfume, and signed only with a print of dark red lipstick.
grabbing your waist with his other hand, fingers digging in, to remind you exactly how much stronger he is. how easily he could lift you, bend you, pin you. despite you being dressed up, not that it will matter what you wear, with the way your knees weaken, clothes are the most irrelevant thing at the moment. and then it hits you, he’s not holding back anymore.
“you shouldn’t have come alone… and if you think i’m letting you walk out untouched after everything you’ve been doing to me. you are so wrong, darling.”
now that he has the chance, he is going to take advantage of being blessed by lady luck with a brat like you. he should teach you some manners, to be careful who you are talking to again. because you keep making the same mistake over and over again: you underestimate him.
he tilts your chin up, and his lips meet yours. it’s the kind of kiss that wipes every thought out of your head except that you need more. it’s not gentle or sweet. it holds the restraint, detonating all at once, so hungry and frustrated. he is such a good kisser, goodness, you gasp in his mouth, and he takes advantage immediately.
tongue pushing deep past your parted lips, swallowing the sound right from your throat. his other hand holds tight to your waist, then slides down, fingers curling around your hip, keeping you pinned in place. you can’t even think of pulling away; he isn’t letting you.
the kiss drags the air from your lungs, because yunho kisses like a man starved, like he’s been holding himself back for months, and the fireworks finally bursts. his tongue sweeps against yours again, forcing you to follow his pace. the dominance is clear as he angles your head just how he wants it.
you melt back against his chest, breath shaking, body softening under the pressure. anxiety fizzles out into something molten and helpless, something that makes your fingers take hold of his shirt just to stay upright. he smiles into the kiss because he feels you are finally giving in. his grip on your hip and chin tightens, as he deepens the kiss even more. lips hot, insistent, consuming you until there’s no space left in your mind for anything but him.
“look at you, desperate for me already,” he growls against your lips, that deep voice sending a full wave of vibrations through your system. “let me ruin you properly…so you stop wondering how i’d feel.”
the kiss doesn’t end so much as it breaks with a thin, trembling line of breath left between your mouths when yunho finally pulls back. just enough that you can see the way his pupils dilate, the way he watches your lips like he’s deciding to bite them now or later.
leaning forward without thinking, chasing him, needing him. he catches your chin with two fingers, stopping you with an infuriating amount of control. “don’t pout,” he says softly, thumb brushing your lower lip. “i’m not going anywhere, just trying not to take you right here.”
your coat slips off your shoulder, and before you can adjust it, his hands are already there, sliding the fabric down your arms. he folds it so neatly and patiently, the exact opposite of how he just kissed you, putting it on the hangers, and then he takes your wrist.
“come here.”
you don’t walk, you follow like a cat, ready for the treat she doesn’t deserve. he leads you down the hallway. slender fingers warm and firm around yours, his steps slow enough that you can feel the anticipation pool between your legs. every time you glance up at him, he meets your eyes like he knows exactly what you’re imagining, exactly how badly you want it.
you barely register entering his bedroom, you only do realise when the backs of your knees touch the mattress, and you fall into a seated position, breath hitching at the sudden shift. yunho stands in front of you. tall figure, broad shoulders, a silhouette of long legs and a wide chest that makes the room feel smaller, even dangerous in a way you’ve been craving for months. your eyes drift down without permission—
those damned grey pants again.
the ones that leave nothing to the imagination, and you know for a fact that you are already wet and oh so turned on. you stare, you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you do. so far, nothing has stopped you from taking the apple from the garden of eden, and now you will finally taste it.
his low chuckle breaks your trance. “eyes up here, sweetheart.” you snap your gaze upward, too fast, he’s already smirking as if he caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. “you really can’t help yourself, can you?” his knees brush the edge of the bed until he’s towering above you, shadowing your whole body. he tilts your chin up again with a single finger, slow and coaxing, expecting you to look at him and only him.
“i’ll give you what you need,” he promises, as his thumb strokes your cheek, and the gentleness only makes the heat worse. “and i’ll take my time doing it.”
your thighs press together instinctively, and yunho knows how wound up you are after everything between you: months of flirting that escalated into this, months of you pushing and pulling, acting like you didn’t know what your touches did to him. he knows your tells by now: the way your breath gets shallow, the way your thighs tense when he gets too close, the way your eyes flicker to his hands, or somewhere else on his body.
he cups your jaw gently, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “you’re too tense, sweetheart. breathe for me, yeah?”
you try, but he can see how your body reacts and feel your pulse quickening. his hand slides higher, fingertips pressing just enough to make your lips part. and then he pushes two fingers past your lips. you inhale sharply, as his fingers reach your throat, making you gag and choke, your eyes getting watery, but you still suck and lick because yоu don’t want to disappoint the only man who doesn't treat you like just some girl, someone still immature, or someone just to hook up with. he treats you seriously like a woman. doesn't fool around or gives you time to think, he immediately shows that he wants you, proves it, insists.
“i know you like this… don’t pretend you don’t.” his voice drops down, a little rougher and teasing, “open wide.”
you do, as his fingers rest heavily on your tongue, tasting faintly of the skin just above his wrist. you hollow your cheeks around them instinctively, making him break his composure.
“there you go,” he praises the way you take his fingers so well, and he doesn’t want to even imagine how good you will take his cock in your mouth if the time demands so, but there will be plenty of meetings in the future to test that theory. “just like that, see? nothing to worry about, when you are with me.”
he pulls his fingers from your mouth with a soft, wet drag that sends heat down your spine. those same fingers trail down your throat, over your clavicle, lower, until they find the hem of your tight shirt. he lifts it slowly, giving you time to stop him, knowing you won’t. the man peels the fabric from your body, lingerie underneath again, and then his hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips; and did you mention that you are wearing a skirt? the one he goes crazy about because it's so short, and so easy for him to do anything as he pleases. thumbs brushing the band of your underwear… a demi-cup bra and string bikini, like a full set? you never seem to stop surprising him, even if you try to cover yourself with your arms.
“still tense, huh? let me help, then.” you don’t have time to answer when he bends a little, his hand slips between your legs, still over your laced panties, and he presses two fingers directly against your clit through the fabric.
“yun–” you jolt, ready to press your legs together by instinct, when a soft sound escapes your lips that makes him smirk.
“i barely touched you…and you are already this wet for me.” his tone is soft, but his eyes are not, especially the way he pushes the lace aside, and you feel even more exposed. his fingers start moving in small circles, slow and steady, and you are trembling from the arousal he brings. already pressing into his touch, trying to muffle your sounds because he’s watching you too closely.
“don't hide from me,” gently leaning in to kiss your inner thigh. “i want to see and hear everything you have been suppressing.”
by the time he pushes your skirt and underwear down, you’re dripping. he slides one finger with no teasing intentions, just giving you what he knows you need. moaning and gripping his shoulders, he adds a second finger, curling them deep, and you physically break from how good it feels. from how gentle yet rough he moves, making you squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip. your hips rock with his hand, the wet sounds are obscene, and you are already falling apart, and he hasn’t even started yet.
“fuck… yunho its to—”
“relax for me, i’ve got you… such a good girl. bet you dreamed of my hands, imagining my fingers when you tried to satisfy yourself with yours, no?” his thumb finds your clit again, stroking slow, maddening circles, and you’re clenching around his fingers, when a wicked smile appears on his face after seeing how the praise hit you harder than his touch. you’re so lost in it that you don’t notice that you are close, not until he withdraws his fingers entirely, leaving you empty and whining. you blink up at him, dazed, and the look in his eyes is different now. no more soft coaxing or patience, just pure obsession and lust.
he brings his fingers coated in your essence to his mouth and licks them with his tongue, getting a taste of you and, lord, does he wish he could get a proper sample because he has never tasted anything this sweet before. its simply fascinating that the flavor alone is making him hard. then he wipes himself across your inner thigh, spreading your slick deliberately on your flesh. “do you have any idea, how long i’ve waited for this?”
yunho pushes you back before you can even take a breath. your spine sinking into the mattress, as your body still trembles from the way he dragged you right up to the edge and left you hanging there, a denial that feels like punishment and reward all at once. your chest rises and falls too quickly; your hands grip the sheets because you don’t know what else to do with them. you want more, and the pressure of being so close yet so far stings behind your eyes.
he sees that too, and has been careful enough to give you the same push-n-pull treatment you used on him; it's only fair, he thinks. “darling…” voice amused, and almost scolding. he doesn’t move toward you, just watches. so patiently but so cruel, like a predator waiting to see if the prey bolts or freezes. “you’re really about to cry, aren’t you?”
your lip wobbles – you hate that he points it out, and what you hate even more is how much you want him to fix it. he straightens, fingers drifting to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and the muscles in his stomach flex, the v-line, holy shit, his biceps, the veins on them... not to mention he's tall, physically bigger than you. fuck, fuck, fuck you are screwed, you couldn’t possibly make it fit inside you at all, simply horrified at the thought, or because he never once breaks eye contact, not even when his hands move to his waistband.
you’re a mess on the bed, eyes wide, needing something you can’t voice. his fingers tug the band of his grey sweatpants down his hips, and then he stops midway, when you actually giggle. not mocking, but disbelieving, like he is the funniest, most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. maybe someone will think you're crazy, you prove it yourself because who the hell would allow this? the young chick in the bed of the attractive dilf.
“what’s so funny, sweetheart?” he lifts a brow, head tilting, pushing your legs apart, settling between them. “always teasing, acting like a damn brat.”
your brain is too busy crashing against the reality of what you’ve done to give him an answer. what you’ve wanted, and been chasing for months with your stupid acts, flirtatious smiles, the accidental brushes of your hand against his arm.
this is the moment you were stupid enough to think about when you touched yourself at night, whispering his name into your pillow like a prayer. a wish to come true, now kneeling between your thighs when adrenaline spikes so hard your fingers tremble against the sheets. that makes you feel alive in a way nothing in your short twenty-something years has ever made you feel.
this shouldn’t be happening. i can’t believe he’s actually looking at me like that, you think. i’m insane for wanting him this much, but… he wants me too.
“yeah, that’s what i thought. dumb little thing… you don’t even understand what you’ve started, do you?”
before you know it, he is naked, stroking himself nice and slow, letting the weight of his leaking cock rest against your soaked entrance. the position you are in, is this missionary? you don’t even know anymore, too hazy to care about that. he supports himself on knees and thrusts into you with the help of his hands. driving you absolutely crazy by giving you just the tip. to warm you up and get you really wet, to prepare you for what’s about to happen, so say goodbye to your lingerie and self-respect because you are never getting it back.
your nails dig into his arms, manicured with his favorite color, and would you look at that? how thoughtful of you to do this after he mentioned it once. snapping his hips forward just enough that the head slips in, stretching you around him. you choke on a moan, eyes half rolling to the back of your head because it fucking hurts, and it’s only the tip. he groans, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin, kissing and leaving love bites, worshipping you to the fullest.
and then he pushes in, slow at first, letting you feel him. you’re trembling, clinging, gasping his name, and he’s whispering praise and filth against your throat because you just feel incredible, better than anyone else he has slept with. even his ex-wife, with whom he created a family.
“shi– ahh, you feel so fucking good, tight little thing… knew you’d be perfect for me.” he bottoms out with a low groan, wrapping one hand around your throat, squeezing, just holding and enjoying the control he has on and over you. how long has it been since he had sex? maybe a few months, or maybe since the day he first saw you, and he didn't want to admit it, but he fell in love, became obsessed with his son’s pretty girl friend. “you should see yourself…trying so hard to take it.”
his thumb strokes your jaw, his hips pull back, making you react strangely, unexpectedly, to some extent, with your moans and panting stopping for a millisecond, before he slams into you. the sudden brutality of it makes you cry out, back arching off the sheets, when the pace is unrestrained, months of frustration and want exploding into each thrust. the bed creaks, your breath stutters, and yunho watches your expression change every so often. truly smitten by how expressive someone can get. he doesn’t mind; it just shows him that you are loving it just as much.
“yeah, cry for me, angel…” hungry kisses again, low whispers and his deep voice making you dig your nails even harder into his arm so that it will definitely leave a mark. “you made me wait this long, you can take a little more, can’t you? so fucking good for me… haa~ should’ve had you like this months ago.”
you nod helplessly, babbling his name, clenching around him so hard he almost loses the rhythm. he is not even all in, but shit does it feel good to actually have you in his bed, underneath, looking so pretty and ethereal, like a doll made of glass that only he knows how to take care of.
and despite being drunk-dazed, all you can think about is how — yunho is nothing like minho.
doesn’t kiss lightly, or tease you just for fun. definitely doesn’t make you feel like it’s a game, or that what’s going to happen depends on you. because you can run in circles all you want with him, and you should admit that he has been careful not to cross any boundary or make you uncomfortable, although you were so tired of it. there was no point in lying to yourself; you're just not the right girl for him.
but minho’s dad, on the other hand, moves every inch of your body like it belongs to him, more precisely, the moment he decides it does. every touch, kiss and bite, the murmurs in your ear are loaded with intent and control. a real man who knew where to touch, press and push your buttons until you give out.
your stomach twists at the comparison, considering minho had been fun, teasing, and experimental — and yes, he’d made you feel good. even if not going past the ‘let me eat you out’ or ‘you like my hands?’ prompts that were all the same every time. problem is, he’d never demanded you, or been assertive, take complete control. maybe if he did, you wouldn't be that miserable and out of your mind to want his dad.
“you didn’t let him,” he whispered, kissing your neck and collarbone, one hand undoing your bra, more so tearing it down, cupping your breasts. and don't worry, he'll buy you a new one. actually, he doesn't spend money on anyone, unless it's to help minho with the car or the apartment, but that's it. he thinks you deserve to be spoiled a lot more. “and i know he hasn’t… because if he did, you wouldn’t have been here with me.”
it’s the raw and unfiltered possessiveness that makes you weak, and you did right by not letting minho sleep with you, because now yunho will get all of you. all you can do is gasp at the pleasure he offers you, as he hums, thumb brushing along your jaw, tilting your head to meet his gaze.
your body melts under the combination of his voice, piercing eyes and the knowledge that this isn’t casual for him. and as he lowers his lips to yours again, stealing your breath away… you know you’ve crossed a line with no regrets. you don’t realise you’re trembling until yunho holds your hips still, wrapping your legs around his waist for him to proceed deeper, with the confidence of a man who has done this before.
“breathe. you’re tightening up.”
great heavens, you try, but your breath stutters the second he presses forward, not even all the way, just enough to make your hands claw at his shoulders. it’s too much, more so, he’s too much. your eyes burn, throat catches, heat and pressure flooding through you so sharply it feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your ribs.
“y-yunho—” his name collapses into a choked sob as the stretch hits, overwhelming and unfamiliar, a sensation you’ve never felt with anyone. no matter how nice it is, and to really show him that you enjoy it and want it even when it hurts. he freezes instantly. not pulling away, or pushing in. just stopped moving, holding you right there, his breath unsteady against your cheek.
“baby? hey, you still with me?” thumb brushing the tears you didn’t even realise spilt. “we go slow now, okay? don’t want to hurt you.” you nod, but another sound slips out. a broken and soft moan, embarrassing to the point when it happens:
you start to cry.
it's not something dramatic or loud like a child's whining. it's enough to make his eyes widen because he expected you to cry, it's a normal part of the process; however, not to make you tremble like a kitten that just opened its eyes to see what the world is like. just those quiet, involuntary tears, reacting to something new, and huge, that hurts in a way that’s almost… beautiful. your forehead drops to his shoulder, muffling a whimper against his skin, when your fingers go to his hair and play with it so you can calm down somehow.
“darling, it’s okay… i’m here, okay?” your fingers curl tighter in his hair, already tired when you haven’t even climaxed yet, you don’t know if you can do it, too scared to proceed any further.
“it’s… it’s too—”
“no.” his voice comes low and stern, warm breath brushing your ear, immediately denying what you were going to say, because you're not a woman who gives up so easily, he wouldn't allow it when you're so close to the finish line. “it’s not too much.”
he waits until you take a breath again. once, twice, until the shaky third time. then he nudges you down a little bit more to his length, slowly and carefully, when you let out a silent scream and just hug him for support, bringing him closer.
“easy, baby,” he coaxes, talking to you in that soft-spoken and kind tone, reassuring you that everything is okay. most importantly, that you are okay, and you can do it. “you’re doing so well for me.” every inch he guides you down feels like another truth reveals itself, and that's it: you take it so damn deep, not even realising how perfect you are for him. your tears won’t stop from feeling overwhelmed, stretched, completely claimed by him, and the way your body is learning the shape of him.
“you’re mine,” voice wrecked, so raspy too, making you rock against him as if wanting to take him by yourself. “you know that now, don’t you?”
your excuse to make a bad decision, bodies getting close under the lights. you’ve got this familiar feeling, like you’ve known him your wholе life. your voice breaks into another plea instead, so needy and desperate, as he clutches your hips.
that’s what he wanted, not to make you be in pain or to struggle, but somehow loosen up. his mouth finds yours, going in for a soft kiss. while you melt against him, helpless, letting him guide you through the overwhelming stretch inch by inch. that little gasp you just let that isn’t anguish anymore but something your body can’t hide, no matter how much you deny it.
he feels the change before you do. his back and arms are probably red from all the digging and scratching, and when your hips push into him, even as tears cling to your lashes. your cries stop sounding scared and start sounding pleasant. pulling back just enough to see your face and how flushed you are with wet cheeks and lips…something in him snaps, whereas he is the one who gets you to see you like this, completely at his mercy, and so so ruined.
“my pretty girl… finally giving in.”
your lips part, a sound cracking out of you, a plea and a moan, and that’s when he moves. slow sweetness turns into a rhythm that steals your breath, and your hands don’t know what to do or where to hold. your sobbed, “please… yunho, i–” turns into something needy, breathy, and immediately addicting.
“oh, you can’t say my name like that,” groaning, head dropping to your shoulder. “darling, you have no idea what that does to me.” his pace picks up, tho not brutally, because he doesn’t want to kill you. it’s gentle, but quick, like he’s been waiting to finally have permission. with one hand, he pins your hands above while the other holds your waist. your voice climbs without you meaning to, every sound spilling out high and helpless, and he bites back a curse.
“baby…” his tone wrecks you. “you’re shaking so much. you want it bad, hmm?” you swallow hard, nodding underneath him because your mouth won’t work properly.
“no.” he lets go of your pinned wrists; his hand coming under your chin, guiding your eyes up to his. heaven is in your stare, not gonna take you there, you should read between the lines, he’s a devil in disguise, he knows how this works. “no nodding… want to hear you say it.”
“y–yes… please…”
“my sweet, needy little doll,” your tears spill again, but now they’re from the pleasure hitting too fast, and deep. you’re overwhelmed but craving, every sound you make begging for more, even when you don’t form the words. he murmurs, kissing the corner of your wet lips. “crying like you’re ruined already… but your body’s begging me for more.”
you want it rough, he can feel it. he thinks you're doing more than well with this new endeavour, taking on something big. you're a good girl, you'll handle it, gasping loudly, as he growls softly in your ear.
“say it.”
“yunho– p-please… don’t stop—”
“yeah, i know what you into… baby, got a type.” he sets a new pace, so harsh that it makes your legs tremble, you’re practically clinging to him for dear life, every breath a moan of his name. a drama awakens as you are drawn to each other, like deja vu, it becomes clear, reality and ideal.
“take it, yeah? take all of it, let me hear you beg for it.” you can’t stop taking him, his head pushing so deep into your velvety walls. it seems to be working its way into all your organs, probably even imprinting itself on your stomach, a belly bludge. fuck, you don’t know anymore, he can do anything to you… all you care about is getting to feel him, no matter how. every sob turns into a plea, every broken moan turns into a scream of his name, that just makes him go rougher, hunger bleeding through each slam.
yunho kisses the tear tracks on your cheek, voice breaking with how badly he wants you. “my sweet angel, you’re so beautiful like this…so messy and loud for me, yeah, ahh— “
your head drops back, a helpless sound ripping out of you, and he swallows it with a kiss that feels like a dream come true. he’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to thank him for it. he whispers against your lips. the pleasure surges, swallowing the last of the pain, and your voice spills out shameless and desperate.
“yunho… aah~ please, m-more.. i-i want yo– ”
his smile is pure sin when he hears you preach like that. you don’t know if he is a fallen angel or the devil himself. he feels it the second your body tightens around him, that involuntary, shaking pull that makes his breath hitch against your throat. his hands clamp harder on your waist like he’s trying to steady himself, but his voice gives him away.
“damn, princess…you’re squeezing me so tight i can barely—” he cuts himself off with a groan that vibrates against your skin. you scream, but he shushes it with a hungry kiss, saliva mixing, wet and sloppy sounds as he pounds into your cunt. you were so wet and aroused that you made everything easier for him.
“doing so good for me… yeah? that’s it, princess, keep going…” trying to answer something like yes, or i can’t, but only his name spills out. you've never fucked like this in your life, or rather, no one has fucked you like this. so much passion, and so many strong emotions, some still hidden, but they will show up in time. it still felt like he was literally touching your soul; you can't anymore, you'd go crazy if you have to do this all day long.
“that’s all you can say now? my name?” he teases you as your fingers tremble against his chest, and you choke out another, “mm, yunho…”
you do not even mean to say his name again, and again. the sound of it knocks something loose in him; the restraint he held onto snaps in the most blissful way. his breath turns harsh, his hold strengthens, and he starts to curse at the sensation.
“fuck, sweetheart… goddamnit, you’re gonna make me lose it for real,” he buries his face in your neck for a second, pulling you closer until it’s hard to breathe. but then he moves again, with hard thrusts that make your eyes roll to the back of your head. your voice jumps, too loud, and slightly higher, and then his face is millimetres from yours, guiding your mouth to his. “shhh, angel… let me hear you, but let me taste you too.”
your moan melts into his mouth, and he swallows it, kissing you harder like he wants to savour how ruined you sound. then he pulls back just enough to see your face, and how the little mascara you had put on stained your cheeks with a light shade of black.
you can barely breathe, let alone speak, but he strokes your cheek with his thumb, tenderly cleaning the faint stains even as his pace pushes you closer to the limit you swore you couldn’t reach again.
“remember a few minutes ago?” he whispers, lips brushing yours again, “when you said you couldn’t take it?” a tiny, helpless whimper comes from you, and he presses a kiss that builds up anticipation rather than stimulation. because look at you, taking all of him, feeling so good, more than amazing, and you are so beautiful, magnificent, with such a pretty face and body. a personality that he can easily read like an open book, doesn't need the resume, he just looks at you and knows what it's going to be about.
another sob of pleasure, as he groans if the sound physically hits him. your thighs tremble, your hands clutch at him helplessly, and he leans in, kissing along your jaw, your cheek, your neck, everywhere your skin burns for him. he knows exactly what he’s doing. needy moans tear out of you, and he kisses your lips again to quiet the sound.
you can’t form words anymore. every attempt just collapses into: yunho or please, in a voice that barely holds together. he loves it so much, the way you just give in, the effect and control he has over you just feeds his ego so cruelly. brushing his nose against your skin, flawless and thin, but your apologies are only selfish with vain intent.
“hold on for me a little longer, yeah? i’m not done with you yet.” he can’t stop kissing you, it's like a drug, so addicting and intoxicating. knowing that he is the one to have you like this, to scream like you saw the phantom of opera, and when you shake your head instantly, or maybe your body just moves on instinct, but it’s enough to make him shudder. he pushes you just a little further on purpose, knowing exactly how far you can go and how much more of his cock you can take. arching into him like you’re breaking and begging at the same time.
“nngh, that’s–that’s it, sweetheart,” praises left and right, because he shouldn’t be mean to you, despite you deserving it. no, no, yunho is not that evil. maybe he wanted to call you a slut, maybe you knew deep down that you were one. even though you didn't go from man to man, but the way you treated him, the provocation you created was enough for that word to be defined by your name. “you’re doing so damn well.”
a kiss to your cheek, another to your jaw. a final one to your lips, that were so red and swollen. you don’t even realise what’s happening until your whole body locks up. not from fear, or pain, but from something so sudden it steals the breath right out of your lungs, crashes into you like a wave you didn’t see coming. acrylic nails dig helplessly into him, a choked sound tearing from your throat as everything inside you tightens too fast for you to react.
“oh— sweetheart…” yunho feels the way you are going to climax soon. “that’s it… come for me, yeah?” your vision blurs. you’re close, so close, and he knows by the way his hand slides to your clit, rubbing circles that match the brutal pace of his hips. your entire body shivers, thighs shaking, stomach cinching tight as if something deep inside you is twisting and pulling you under.
“yun– i’m.. please, i–”
he is guiding you through the storm, “breathe, princess… i’ve got you.”
it happened so suddenly, your juices spilling as he fucks you right into it, but more slowly. you’ve never experienced something like this before…never so real, intense, so impossible to hold onto. those intense feelings of pleasure hitting you so hard that the only thing you can do is say his name like it could stop you from creaming around his cock.
a deep pressure that makes you whine, you press a shaking hand to your lower belly on instinct, trying to make sense of the sensation, and is that him? is it so deep that you can feel it all the way there, that you can see it all the way there, stretching and pushing... your eyes widened in shock, as yunho catches your wrist gently, his breath hitching when he sees where your hand went. body is still fluttering with aftershocks, muscles tightening and releasing, like your nerves don’t know how to stop. he cups your cheek, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his.
“sweet girl…was that your first real one?”
you can’t even answer, and tell him that yes, this was your first time cumming, not even faking a thing. you simply can’t fake anything when the guy who fucks you just knows how to do it properly. your lips part, but nothing comes out except a shaky, overwhelmed sigh.
“of course it was~ no wonder you’re shaking and being so responsive.” the look that flashes across yunho’s face is something simply catastrophic. pride, and awe, all tangled together. he was speechless, like falling into some kind of ecstasy. while your stomach is tightening at that foreign pressure, and he feels it too. your fingers clutch at him again, helpless, overstimulated and still riding the remnants of something too intense to name.
“princess… if i’d known you’d fall apart for me like that…” he stops himself, breathing raggedly against your skin. he should have pleased you sooner if he knew you were going to react like this. his praise only makes your body flutter harder, and he quietly whimpers, brushing his lips down your throat. you have no idea what you just did to him.
his tone changes when you are still trying your very best to calm down and regain composure to continue, as if something in him snaps into place the moment he feels the way you cling to him, so tight, and needy.
“tell me something, sweetheart.” he slows down just enough that you feel every inch, every deliberate shift of his hips that drags another helpless sound from your throat. “did he ever make you feel like that?”
you don’t answer, not because you’re hiding anything, but because you physically can’t. your vocal cords are nonexistent because the maximum words you can say are about five, and one of them is his name. that beautiful name belongs to the man who ruins you in the most beautiful way possible.
“did he?” yunho hisses, so possessive and demanding, like he wants to hear the truth from you even if he knows better than anyone else that his son couldn’t step up his game and please such a pretty and smart girl, who is a freak in the sheets. you probably will be, even though you're so submissive right now. you’re in a situation where he won't let you take the dominant position until you learn to take him all at once, or until you convince him enough to change his mind. you'd look so good on top of him, and he'd watch you struggle when you line up his tip to your soaked entrance, how those beautiful breasts will bounce once you start to jump like crazy.
he speeds up just enough that you can hear the skin slapping, making you arch your back like the cat you are. “did minho ever have you shaking like this?”
no. minho never touched you like this; couldn't even make you orgasm. you had to pretend the whole time that you liked it, faking everything he made you feel. just so you could keep him close, so you could get your hands on his father.
a grown man who knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly how to take you apart.
satisfied growl vibrates against your neck as he speeds up again, his grip tightens at your waist. you are unbearably sensitive, and he groans when he feels how your body reacts, like you’re trying to pull him closer without even meaning to. too intense to hold back, a second orgasm is building too fast for you to even process it.
“oh? you’re close again?” his cock is practically abusing you, but not in a way that hurts, just making sure you get to feel everything he has to offer. “pretty little thing, can you do it for me? hmm, i know you can.”
and you do. again and again, until he imprints himself in you, so hard and deep that he can simply rearrange your dna. he praises you, every time you coat him with your juices — soft when you’re shaking, rough when you’re clinging to him, filthy when you beg.
by the time the seventh wave of pleasure hits you, you’re barely able to function. your thighs are trembling uncontrollably, vision is hazy, brain system is foggy. he slows down because he feels himself coming soon. tho, he is not stopping, just holding you in place, breathing hard against your throat as he fights for control.
“doll, you tell me…where do you want it?”
your voice is muffled, broken from overstimulation, but your body answers for you. you tighten around him, hard, your whole body squeezing instinctively every time he thrusts in deeper. yunho groans, too honest for him to hide that he just can’t contain what he feels for you.
“inside, huh?” his forehead drops to your shoulder, biting it in the process. he knew you were a freak, but not that much of a freak. “you want me there?”
“yeah… please…” you whimper, clinging to him. you didn't want him to pull out; you didn't want to let him go even for a moment. all your thoughts were filled with only 'yunho, yunho, yunho, yunho'. he took over your every sense, all the thoughts you never thought possible, feelings you never felt. “please…yunho, fill me up.”
you are going to kill him. he tries to breathe, tries to hold on just a second more, but he’s too close, powerless when you want him to finish inside, the way you say his name, because it’s the only thing you remember. slender fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you even closer, deeper, and then he’s gone. coming hard, gasping heavily in your ear as he fills you completely to the brim. the way you squeeze around him like you’re trying to keep him there forever. you make him want things that are against all laws, not to mention morals.
the moment he releases inside you, a strangled sob escapes you before you can stop it, your arms winding around his shoulders as if you’re trying to hold onto him, trembling, desperate, and clinging. your face presses into the crook of his neck, warm and wet against his skin as more tears slip free. yunho is suddenly taken aback, having his ‘breaking the 4th wall moment’. it’s been years since he felt this kind of connection. he seems almost surprised, keeping moving gently, riding out the last waves until he feels you tighten again, pulling him deeper, milking every drop from him without meaning to.
“not knocking you up,” he murmurs, still breathless, still pressed against your skin. “no matter how good you’d look full of me.”
causing that kind of family drama, knocking up someone much younger than him? not happening.
“sweetheart, you’re….you’re still holding onto me.” his voice is hoarse, deep tone, with even deeper feelings gushing in his chest. your thighs quivering around him, overstimulated and helpless. he slides a hand up your spine, soothing you, trying to ground you as he coos against your hair. “okay. okay, baby, let it all out then.”
you try to breathe, but everything inside you is too full — your head, your heart, your cunt. the feeling of being so filled you can’t separate where you end and he begins. the rush of it makes you dizzy, stuck on a feeling, and it's a crime how he is talking to you. and underneath the haze… guilt curls in your stomach as it has just been waiting to strike at the right moment.
yunho is still inside you when he realises something’s wrong.
“i don’t– i shouldn’t have– yunho?” regardless his name is the first thing you can say. his hand then comes up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb stroking the sensitive skin there as he pulls you back just enough to see your face.
your eyes are wet and glassy. it was as if you had stars in your eyes, but he couldn't tell if they had fallen or if they were about to rise and shine brighter than the sun. he hates the guilt in them.
he’d been smug just moments ago, drunk on the feel of you, on how tight you were, on how you kept pulling him deeper as if your body were made to take him. the heat between you was enough to burn, his ears were red, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. you looked ruined, and he was proud of it, but his smirk faded instantly. he hates that anything about this moment is hurting you.
“baby, no,” he murmurs, kissing a tear before it falls. his whole body softens, feeling you clench, not from lust, but from the aftermath of everything he pushed you through. “don’t do that…hey–”
you try to inhale, but your lungs feel tight, and your heartbeat won’t calm.
“there’s no going back now. what’s done is done.” the way he says it isn’t cruel. it’s almost sympathetic, the tone someone uses when they close a door for you so you don’t have to look at it again. “you’re not a horrible person, not even a bit. you are just confused and exhausted.”
you want to believe him, despite feeling the exact opposite. he kisses you before you can argue. the kind of kiss that is supposed to make you calm down and stop thinking. to stop fighting, and let yourself fall where he’s waiting for you with open arms.
your body still holds him inside, pulsing around him like it doesn’t know how to release him yet. and he doesn’t push, just stays there, his palms splayed over your waist, heat radiating from his skin into your bones.
when he finally pulls out slowly from you, and the loss of him burns. pain curling low as his cock slides free, followed by the warm spill of him dripping down your thighs. the sudden emptiness makes your legs tremble, makes your fingers curl weakly into his shoulders.
yunho watches your face the whole time. not your body, not the mess he made, but you.
“sweets,” his hands run down your shaking thighs, slow and soothing, thumbs tracing the tremor he caused. he’s too gentle, like he knows exactly how to make you feel at peace again. “that’s enough for today. you don’t need to worry about anything except resting now.”
he presses a kiss to your cheek, another to your temple, then a quick peck to your lips. each touch is convincing in a way that frightens you.
“i’m going to take care of you, because you did so well for me.” strong arms sliding beneath you, lifting you like you weigh nothing. your head falls against his shoulder, your body limp from everything he dragged out of you. “come on, sweetheart. let’s get you cleaned up.”
steam still clings to your skin by the time yunho wraps a towel around your shoulders. your legs are jelly, maybe they don’t even exist. wobbling every time you try to put weight on them, and he watches it happen with a smile that could kill anyone within a 10-meter radius. it was smug, but not egotistical. he just can’t believe he gets to touch you at all.
“(name), just lean on me,” he murmurs, steadying your hips when your knees give up again. he helped you into the bath earlier, washing you with hands so gentle you almost cried again. then in the shower, his chest warm against your back, while he made sure every bit of you felt taken care of. not used or for you to feel dirty, but cherished and loved.
then, quietly, without judgment, he handed you a small packet with a pill inside. why he has them is another mystery to be left behind. “just in case, sweetheart. i don’t want you worrying.” because he should have been careful and put a condom, but he won’t tell you that he forgot to buy some, because well, he didn’t expect that today of all days he was going to wreck you.
the tenderness in his eyes when you took it nearly knocked you out all over again. now, in the soft light of his room, he dresses you carefully, just like a doll. one of his old oversized shirts, worn and soft, then a pair of boxers he sheepishly admitted no longer fit him.
when you stand in front of him, swallowed by his clothes, eyes tired and swollen from crying, yunho just stares. like he’s falling in love in real time. he steps closer, hands cupping your cheeks. “you look… beautiful,” it’s not the rough and demanding tone from earlier; it’s something sweet that makes the butterflies in your stomach spread their wings even wider and flutter everywhere, even reaching your heart and mind. “my fuckin’ god, angel… don’t do that to me.”
you don’t know what to say, because it hits you all over again — you just slept with your friend’s father. someone you weren’t supposed to want, and absolutely shouldn’t have touched, or thought about this way.
“yunho… i— i don’t know how to feel.”
he steps behind you before the panic can rise, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. slowly, he begins to sway you side to side in a gentle, soothing rhythm you didn’t expect from a man who ruined you an hour ago. his chin rests on your head when he opens his mouth.
“baby, you feel overwhelmed. that’s normal…” he murmurs as his hands slide up and down your arms, calming the shake you didn’t realise had returned. “you think you did something unforgivable,” adding a soft kiss to your hair. “but you didn’t.”
you swallow hard, guilt and desire twisting inside you, because you are so torn, can't make an adequate decision, nor are you currently capable of thinking about anything more than the fact that the moment you fell for him, like an angel cast out of heaven, you knew there was no way you could get back up again.
“this is… wrong,” you whisper. “it has to be.”
“maybe it is, but…” his arms tighten slowly, possessively. “…we both know it’s not going to stop.” you panic again, breathing heavy, when his lips brush your shoulder, a soft, devastating kiss.
“and what happened today,” he continues, swaying you gently, still trying his best to convince you that you did nothing wrong. you are a human being, with a mind of its own, with needs that need to be satisfied every once in a while. that you are free to do anything you want, as long as it makes you happy. “that wasn’t just for us to relieve the pent-up tension, but you know that already.”
your throat tightens, since he is right. closing your eyes, leaning back against him despite the guilt curling in your stomach.
“doll,” his hands slide to your hips, holding you delicately. he really wanted you to listen more to his words, because even though they were meant to reassure you, the truth was hidden in them. “…you’re going to be my little secret.”
“this won’t be the last time, will it?” you ask, feeling him kiss your face, entirely too intimate.
“no,” whispering into your skin, the softness of his voice at complete odds with the way he’s cornering your heart, “tho, you have a choice,” he says… and you can feel the lie in the way he holds you. but he’s swaying you gently, hugging you like he’s trying to soothe nerves he’s also responsible for sparking.
it isn’t a choice; you have no say in that. he’s taking advantage of how off-balance and vulnerable you are currently… and you let him, since you haven’t exactly been innocent either. your body melts back into him like you’ve already decided.
warm lips brush the shell of your ear, smiling against your skin, “you can walk away from this, and by doing so you walk away from me.” his hands slide over your stomach, “or… you can stay. let me take care of you, love you the way you deserve to be loved.”
your stop breathing for what seems like a minute, because the way he says it, so gentle, not forceful, almost sad and yet it hits you exactly where he wants it to.
three months ago, before you even realized what you were doing, you’d let minho get closer, let him open up to you, let him trust you, and you’d smiled sweetly every time he invited you over. every time he unknowingly walked you straight into temptation.
if he knew that you liked his father instead… maybe you should finally friendzone him, so whatever you had going on will stop. it’s pointless when it's one-sided, and besides, you don't want to date him, and you don't even want to say it… you don't want to cheat on him with his own father. that's why you never set the green light with him, friends with benefits, was it?, but nothing more.
yunho senses your spiral and cages you tighter against his chest, whispering, as you tilt your head just enough to meet his eyes, “we’ll be careful, we have been so far, no? minho doesn’t have to know anything, my son is not that great at taking hints or reading the room, so don’t worry, alright?”
and that’s how it begins.
the secret rendezvous — nights in his apartment when minho stays with his mom. afternoons where yunho pretends he’s just “working from home” while you’re spread out on his couch and he devours your pussy with his mouth like it’s his last meal and day on planet earth. cockwarming him on his gaming chair as he edits some photos from work, and sometimes when you decide to be naughty and let your brat energy shine, he simply bends you over his desk to teach you some manners and not to interrupt him when he's working. trips he arranges through connections, quiet little escapes to seaside hotels and mountain cabins. the excuse you feed minho and your friends when you mention you can’t hang out because you are going on a family vacation.
a game of hide-and-seek where the seeker is so heartbreakingly blind.
and you were so good at convincing your family to go there that it wouldn't be so suspicious. just you suggesting a new destination to enjoy the season, or if there is an occasion like your mom’s birthday. she really enjoyed okinawa, and she was infinitely grateful to you for the surprise. plus, they know you have a job that pays well, but what you wouldn't tell them is that another person was giving you money and spoiling you rotten.
or that time when he was balls deep into you, and his ex-wife called him, and he had to pick up because she kept spamming his phone. maybe it was her 5th call, and for that, he apologised to you by telling you to be quiet, putting his hand over your mouth, as he continued to fuck you in slow thrusts. "yeah, minsoo? i'm a little busy right now, talking to a client… you know, booking photoshoots, gotta schedule a date.” then she said something that made his gaze flick toward you. “no,” he replied softly. “no one’s with me.”
he was so mad after the conversation and the fact that she wouldn't stop talking, and he didn't really care about how minho needs a new laundry machine... and he just took it out on you, but you loved it when he was rough.
back in the present, it’s been a few months already and nothing has changed. yunho presses a kiss under your ear, down to your neck. “you staying with me tonight?” his voice is hopeful, and a little too pleased. he knew there was no way you could refuse him, especially the way he made you melt, arms sliding around your waist fully, pulling you against him.
“yeah… i think so.”
even though everything is wrong, like you just committed a sin that cannot be unforgiven. you could be torn between two roads that you just can't decide, which one is leading you to hell or paradise? you still lean into him as you’ve already chosen the path you’re going to walk on.
he is someone you could get addicted to in more ways than one. you didn’t leave him, didn’t run, fight, or try to fix what you’d helped unravel. you just let him hold you tighter until there was no room left to breathe without him.
yunho didn’t apologise, or hesitate to make you his, even if your relationship is considered a riddle with no clear answer, a mystery with no evidence to follow. he just looked at you the same way he did the day it all began. with clear motives that he won’t back down, and chose you with a certainty that felt like fate, destined to be with you, and like a promise that felt like a threat.
in the end, you took it all away from me, you think, as he bites your lower lip. big hands already exploring your body that he knows like his own, making you want more. more than he has already given you. perfect, he is perfect at anything he does, and what he does best is love you, because he can make the impossible possible.
he took everything, and he made sure you didn’t want it back.
thank you so much macie (@strhwa), for taking the time to do a beta read and be an editor. i love you so much, and i hope jongho is going to eat you out tonight ! xoxo
summary: You’ve never been the most lucky person, and when your AC breaks on you in the peak of a southern summer, you think you just might have seen it all. But when your temptation in a bottle of a neighbor offers to help fix it for you, the sweat on his skin makes you reconsider your hatred for the heat.
warnings: neighbors to lovers, older!san, comedy, fluff, biceps, tan skin sannie(drools), sweat, tension, suggestive popsicle eating(lmao), flirting, pet names, (beautiful, sweetheart, babydoll, etc.) oral(m! & f! receiving), against the wall, sloppy makeouts, kinda feral, desperation, choking, eye contact, fingering, creampie
wc: 7.9k
notes: is it december? yes. is this a summer fic? also yes. hop off, i live in the south it’s still hot down here
tracklist: r.e.m., hands to myself, talk
It started with your ring camera.
When a very feline man showed up on a clip while you were checking your footage one day.
Your cat had gone missing a few days prior, and you had never been more broken up about something in your life. You spent days searching far and wide around the neighborhood, but to no avail.
As much as you were perturbed about the disappearance of your cat, you still had to drag yourself to work every morning.
But when you came home that day, a notification sitting untouched on your phone about your ring catching a recording, it all flipped around.
“Hey, I found this little lady wandering around my apartment somehow? I think she got in through an open window, but I remember her being yours. She’ll be with me for now, but come over when you have the chance to scoop her up? She keeps trying to start hissy fits with my cat.”
A warm, charming smile and pretty little dimples. Freckled caramel skin and a strong jaw.
Tousled black hair and sweet eyes that crinkled at the corners, his large arms holding your cat up to the birds-eye camera, giving her a silly look. She meows, seeming content in the strange man’s arms, and he walks away to his own apartment, cooing softly at her as he cradles her in his arms.
That’s how you met San.
He had found your cat and ever so graciously stopped by your door in hopes of dropping her off while you weren’t home. As soon as you saw the recording, you ran out of your home and down the hall to San’s door, knocking gently, trying to mask your excitement.
When he opened the door to your face beaming with happiness, he knew right then and there, he had to find some way to make sure he kept seeing you.
He’s asked to cat sit a few times. You’ve asked him to water your plants while you were out of town. He’s offered to fix your fridge when it started to leak. You offered to collect his mail when he was on a trip.
You scratched his back, and he scratched yours. A sweet and simple relationship that sometimes has blurred lines.
Like when he looked at you like you were beauty embodied, but you brushed it off. Or when you literally felt your heart stop when he held your cat in his arms, littering her little face in kisses, but the heart was a weird thing. He was a little older than you, and sometimes his age showed in the conversations he would hold with you.
But San was always pleasant to talk to, inviting you over for coffee, letting you rant about work, and listening to his stories about his travels around the world with his buddies. All this time living next door to him, and you had never spoken a word to each other until now.
It was a soft, platonic, crutch of a relationship. A person you could talk to after a long day and just be real with. San made you feel real.
Well, things would change very quickly.
And it was all because of a near heatstroke, the electrifying power of the sun, and a broken AC.
It was the dead of summer, one hundred degrees outside, and asphalt you could fry an egg on. And your AC gave out on you, the shitbox.
You had done everything you could to try and remedy it, but no matter what you tried, it was useless. Every YouTube video provided no help, the toolbox under your sink looked like an airplane cockpit to you, and you were so overheated it was getting hard to form thoughts.
Stripped down to just a thin sweat-soaked tank top and volleyball shorts, you rested your forehead against the edge of your balcony, the door wide open as you tried to catch any breeze that the gods felt generous enough to grace you with.
You tried standing in front of your open fridge, but you knew that would raise your bill, so your last resort was begging for wind on your balcony. You closed your eyes and sighed when a moment of fresh air washed over your wet skin, but it was gone just as quickly as it arrived.
“You look like you’re having fun.”
You nearly let out a moan of relief, the familiar voice flooding your ears like God himself was sent to help you.
“San…” you whined weakly, not lifting your head from your balcony. “I need you to rescue me.”
His sweet little laugh hits your ears, and you turn your head to see him standing on his own balcony, smiling at you fondly. “You know I’m just a door away; you could have just knocked and asked.”
You pouted and winced guiltily. “But I’ve been bothering you so much lately and-“
San interrupts you with a raise of his eyebrow and a snort. “You’re never bothering me, sweetheart. I’m always more than willing to help you out, you know that, don’t you?”
An angel, really.
“San, you’re the best.” You hang your head, and droplets of sweat fall onto the hot wood of your balcony. San is already walking back inside his apartment with a knowing smile.
“Let me grab my things.”
-
“How are you alive?”
The moment San stepped into your home, he immediately began to sweat. Your apartment really was that hot. Carrying his toolbox and a determination to bring coolness back to your abode, he nearly soaked his grey tank top upon stepping through your door.
You laugh dryly. “I guess I’m really resilient.”
San runs his free hand through his hair, inhaling deeply as he takes in the situation. “How long has it been like this?” he murmurs, still seemingly in shock over the temperature of your home.
“A few hours, maybe.” You bite your tongue and avoid looking at him, arms crossed as you take a sudden interest in the ceiling.
San scoffs, “It should have taken you 5 minutes to decide to come ask for my help (Name).” You could feel his eyes on you, and it was burning more than the sun.
“Well, excuse me-” before you could finish your sentence, he whistled loudly.
“Hey, over here.” He snaps, and you whip your head in his direction. Your eyes lock, and you watch as they fall from concentration to a strange softness.
“There you are.” His voice lowers to something so gentle it makes your stomach flip. “Hi, neighbor. So you want this fixed or not?” San lifts his bag and raises his eyebrow in question. Your arms remain crossed, and you nod silently, words seeming to have left you.
“Alright then, c’mon. I want you to watch so you know better next time you’re too embarrassed to ask for my help.”
Your nervousness leaves you as he walks away from you, and you follow with a pep in your step and an annoyance in your tone. “I was not embarrassed, I just didn’t want to drag you out of your comfy air-conditioned home to come sweat off ten pounds trying to fix mine.”
San laughs as he makes a beeline to the closet in your hallway where your air conditioner is located, the metal in his bag clinking with each step. "Sounds like you’re jealous, actually.”
San gets to quick work to diagnose the problem, his head disappearing in the closet as he begins to poke and prod around the broken contraption, murmuring things to himself as he works. Some clanking around and a few screws loose, and he pokes his head from out of the closet.
He looks down at you, your eyes wide and hopeful at the chance of finally being able to feel air conditioning again. He smiles sheepishly, and you already knew bad news was coming.
“Bad news, the entire thing is frozen over.” You let out a defeated groan, and San rests his hands on your bare upper arms.
“Don’t pitch a fit, it’s an easy fix, but you may not like it.” San’s voice is gentle, his hands softly squeezing your arms. You try to ignore the way his skin sticks to yours from the sweat. Pervert.
“What?” You ask dejectedly. San lowers his voice to a whisper.
“You have to turn the heat on.”
You blink a few times, and you feel your entire body go into fight or flight.
“I’d rather you shoot me.” You deadpan, and San squeezes your shoulders one last time before slipping away.
“I’d rather not, babydoll, you give me work to do with my hands. I’d be bored without you.” His grin is genuine, his dimples on proud display, the tendons in his neck flexing, the sweat dripping off his brow. His eyes flick over your face and along your jawline. He licks a drop of sweat off his bottom lip.
And he wants to turn the heat on?
“Is that your way of saying I cause enough trouble to keep you busy?” You gnaw on your bottom lip as San reached behind him and turned the thermostat onto the heat, full blast.
“You could say that.” He smiles and shuts the closet to the AC, and you could immediately feel the heated air start to flow from the vents around the house.
“I’m gonna die in here.” You whine, wiping the side of your neck with a disgusted face.
San sets down his toolbox, which it seems he brought for almost nothing. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay, and we can die together.”
You can’t help but crack a smile as you walk away and fall onto your carpeted floor with a tired thud. “You know you don’t have to, San.”
He only nods and lies down right next to you, spreading his limbs like a starfish and turning his head to face you. “I know.”
-
The rickety rotating fan San brought over from his apartment did little for your sweltering skin. You sat on your knees directly in front of it, sighing each time the rotation made it to your face, and groaning when it started to spin away.
San was sprawled across your couch, lips wrapped around a blue popsicle you had offered him from your freezer. His arm draped over the back as he watched you on your knees in front of the fan, the sweat trickling down your shoulder blades and leaving streaks on your tank top.
San’s eyes were lidded as his tongue traces absentminded patterns along the icy treat, his gaze fully trained on you. You were too focused on catching the flow of the fan to notice how intensely San was staring at you. His eyes followed the slope of your neck and the divots on your lower back where your tank top rode up over your hips.
The way your hair sticks to your slick skin and how your shoulders rose and fell with each breath you took. The way your whole body would relax when the air finally reached you, and how it would tense right back on when it moved away.
The AC was not the only thing that was making San feel hot all over; he couldn't take his eyes off you. Dribbles of sugary blue melted down his wrist, and just when he lowered his mouth to clean up the mess, you turned to ask him a question.
His eyes lock with yours as you turn, but his mouth doesn't cease its movement. His pretty pink tongue slips out and licks up the trail that dripped down his tan wrist.
He mumbles out a low ‘hm?’ as his tongue lies flat against his skin and drags it up his wrist. Your words fail you once again as your eyes fall to his mouth against his skin, and yet San can’t find it in him to rip his gaze away from your pretty, desperate eyes.
“Do- is it good?” You stumble over your question, completely forgetting what you were originally going to ask him. San smiles and licks up the side of the popsicle until he stops and bites the end off of it with a silent snap.
“Very, thank you, sweetheart.” He chews on the blue ice, and you swallow.
“It's the best I can do since you won’t let me pay you.” You swirl your body around so you can fully face him, and grin as he bites off another small piece.
“Your company is payment enough.” He tells you that every time, because every time it goes the same way.
Something breaks, and San comes to your rescue. While he fixes it, you chat idly, and after he’s done, the conversation just seems to flow on even longer. He considers that his payment, always insisting that your time was his currency.
You’ve tried to shove at least a 20 down his throat, but he’ll never take it. You opened your mouth to argue some more, but as you did, your cat walked around the corner of the couch with a soft meow.
“Oh, and where have you been?” You call to her as he rubs herself on San’s man spread legs with a happy meow. San sticks his ice cream into his mouth and reaches down to scoop her into his arms.
“Hello, little lady.” He coos at her, rubbing his nose against hers and scratching her neck as he cradles her. She purrs contentedly, and you watch in near awe.
“Your mom's grumpy about her AC.” He whispers to her, and you roll your eyes. Almost as if she could understand, she meows quietly.
“I hope you’re not conspiring with my cat.” You narrow your eyes playfully, and San gently sets her down back on the ground. She meanders her way over to you, placing her front paws on your knee as you reach down and pet her gently.
“I would never.” His popsicle is dripping again; it’s gotten down his chin this time, along his strong jaw, and dropped onto his tank top.
You inhale sharply. “You’re making a mess on my couch.” Your cat bounds away quietly, off to whatever little secret spot she’s been hiding in this entire time.
San looks down at the blue spot on his shirt and laughs softly. “Oops.” He lifts his thumb to his chin and wipes the river of blue on his chin. But as he moves to dip his thumb into his mouth, you move quicker.
You stand from your spot and snatch his wrist, and slip it into your mouth without hesitation. You clean the sticky sugary mess off his thumb, swirling your tongue around it slowly, keeping your eyes on him. San’s eyes are wide, surprised, and intrigued.
You’re not sure what on earth possessed you to do that, so you move back away from him. But San doesn’t let that happen.
His fingers curl around and grip your jaw, keeping your head in place, his thumb pressed down against your tongue, and he guides your head closer to him. You were trapped in his strong hold, and you felt your head begin to swim.
His fingers press into the flesh of your cheek, pursing your lips around his thumb, and the heat in your blood increases substantially when he keeps your head still so you can’t direct your embarrassed gaze away from him.
“Was that worth it?” He teases with a small grin, the hand with the popsicle lifting to slip the pop back into his mouth, running it up and down his tongue, which had turned blue by now. All the while, the thumb in your mouth mimicked his movement, stroking your tongue slowly.
You totally don’t notice the way his legs slightly spread further open, how he readjusts the angle of his hips. He totally doesn’t notice the way your thighs clench together and how your teeth scrape against his nail. You also don’t notice the way he looks at you like he wants to eat you, and he for sure doesn’t notice how you look at him like that’s all you’ve ever wanted in the world.
He slips his thumb out of your mouth so slowly it seems like time itself has been paused, a very thin trail of saliva connected between his nail and your parted lips, snaps like a silent cue.
Your eyelids flutter, and San’s tongue darts out and licks a stripe up the pad of his thumb, before popping the ice cream back in his mouth.
He stands, leaving you dumbfounded on the floor below him. “Let’s go check and see how much that AC has thawed; this heat is getting unbearable.”
-
“I’d give it at least another hour before we can run the cool again.” San peers into the closet, and you feel a sigh of relief rack your body, wiping your chest to clear it of the sweat that had gathered there.
San turns to see you looking at him with eyes glimmering with adoration and hope, and he doesn’t catch the way your heart leaps when your eyes follow the droplet of sweat that clings to his chin.
“I really can’t thank you enough.” You sigh, trying to gather your bearings.
“I promise you, as easy a fix this was, I mean you could have done it yourself-“ San’s lips spread into a sly grin, and you’re already rolling your eyes.
“You literally insisted on helping me.” You turn around to walk away, but his arm reaches out to grab your wrist as he drags you back to his chest.
“I know- hey, I’m talking to you, don’t walk away from me, c’mere…” he stops you from leaving, and you're standing in front of him again, much closer this time. He looks down at you, and your words die in your throat; his hand on your wrist doesn’t leave, it only squeezes tighter.
“Hi there.” San murmurs. “Listen to me.” You swallow quietly and nod slowly.
“I love helping you out. Love working for you, babydoll.” His thumb rubs gentle circles over the pulse in your wrist, and his soft voice sends shockwaves to your belly.
“It’s a privilege if anything, I want you to always come ask for my help. But I am expecting a thank you.” He raises an expectant eyebrow, and you force your voice to come out, albeit small.
“Thank you, Sannie.” You speak lowly, and you feel his hands squeeze your wrist only slightly. He inhales slowly and lowers his lips just shy of your earlobe.
“You're welcome, beautiful, anytime.” You stifle a whimper when you feel the way his warm breath travels over your ear, and suddenly, you want to rip your skin off because you feel like you’re burning from the inside out.
You needed to divert.
“You should change your shirt, you look a mess.” You clear your throat, but San wasn’t done having fun with you.
“What, you don’t like me all messy?” He smiles and drags his fingertips every so gently across your exposed collarbone, and your skin shivers beneath his touch.
“You’re even messier than I am now, sweetheart. You’re soaked.”
You know he’s talking about your tank top, which was, in fact, soaked with sweat. But you both knew he knew it’s a lot more than just that.
You bite your inner cheek nervously, and your limbs twitch. San’s fingers trail over your collarbone, along your shoulder, down your inner arm until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours.
His other hand cups around the back of your neck, gently massaging the nape, and a small, satisfied moan slips from your lips. Your eyes fall shut, and San keeps his gaze on you, enamored with every expression you make.
“San.” You whisper, your eyes still closed.
“Yeah?” He purrs, continuing to massage the tight knot on your neck with purpose. He subtly pulls you closer by the grip on your neck, and you can feel his nose ever so gently brush yours. His breath fans over your lips, and you can smell his scent. The sweat, the warm, woodsy notes of his fading cologne.
“It’s hot.” Your eyes flutter open, and your knees nearly give out on you when you see just how close he is to you. You can point out every freckle on his face, every discoloration of skin, and every pore. And his eyes are so intense that it makes your stomach fall.
Lidded eyes and low lashes, his lips just barely quirked up into the slightest of smiles. “I know, baby, I know.”
“How much longer until we can turn the AC back on?” You're inching closer to him as you speak, and your breaths come shallowly.
San's lips move away from yours, and he’s pressing them in featherlight kisses against your neck. “You’re shivering like you’re cold, sweetheart.” A kiss below your ear, and one in the crook of your neck.
“M not cold.” You murmur, and you do in fact shiver each time his soft lips make contact with your skin.
“You hot, baby?” He coos against your ear, and your arms grab the thick straps of his tank top and pull him away from your ear, back to face you. You nod.
“San.” You whine, your eyebrows knit together in desperation. “Please.”
“I’m gonna make it worse, beautiful.” He pouts playfully, poorly masking the want laced in his words. “You want me to make it worse?”
You can’t help your honesty. “I want you to do whatever you want.” You pull him closer, and your lips are just thin skin brushing thin skin, your breaths mingling, and your noses bumping.
“Oh, you shouldn’t say that to me.” He groans against your lip, his eyes locked on your hazy eyes. “I don’t want to do very gentlemanly things.” The hand he had interlaced with yours slips away, and you feel it trail up your inner thigh, and he’s pressing against the thin fabric of your volleyball shorts.
You whimper against his skin, and San’s lip parts in mock surprise. “Knew you were soaked.” He sighs, and he finally gives you what you want.
A slow, tasting kiss, savoring every flip of your tongue and soft whine. Your mouth is warm and sweet against his, the faint taste of your lip gloss and your sweat dancing on his taste buds. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, wasting no time.
You were so unbelievably slick, it was mind-baffling. San’s fingers immediately become soaked in your arousal, his eyes closed, and eyebrows knit in concentration as his fingertips slip all over your cunt.
When he pressed up against your clit you accidentally bit his tongue in surprise, and you ripped your mouth away from the kiss and pressed your forehead against his broad chest. Your breath comes heavy, and your hands slip away from his tank top straps and ball into fists against his pecs, your legs already beginning to shake.
San moves around so your back is pressed against the hallway wall, forcing the back of your head against the wall. “Uh uh.” He bites out, rubbing slow circles against your clit, your thighs squeeze around his wrist as the pleasure flows through your blood.
“At me.” His hand on your neck forced your head to crane upwards, and you locked eyes with him again and simply melted. His eyes are heavy and hot, looming over you as he plays with your cunt. “Here, baby, right here.”
You let a pathetic moan slip from your mouth when he trails his fingers down and slides one inside of you, thick and full against your warm walls. Your knees buckle, but San keeps you up by your neck.
“Don’t look away from me, babydoll.” His presence overwhelmed you, his body molded to yours, and his fingers knuckle deep inside of you, curling and pressing spots so deep it made you lightheaded.
Your eyes watered, and San bit his bottom lip, a smirk spreading across his face. “So fucking pretty, yes, you are, baby.” He curls his fingers deeper, and your mouth falls open. San takes the opportunity to kiss you nasty and deep, sliding his tongue over yours and groaning down your throat. “Yes, you are...” he purrs into your mouth, and your whole body feels like it’s on fire.
You were both overheated, but the broken AC had no contribution. You wanted your clothes off, you wanted to feel his skin on yours. You wanted San-
“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He growls into your mouth, slipping his fingers out of you to tease your clit, before they’re right back inside of you, stirring up your guts with deep, pressurized drags.
You nod breathlessly, giving him the sweetest little puppy dog eyes you didn’t even know you were making. San just had that effect on you; he awakened your instinct to beg.
His hand slides up and buries its fingers into your hair, gently pushing you away from his lips. His fingers slip out of your cunt, and you whine in protest, but then he’s pushing you to your knees.
You watch as he gradually grows taller the further you sink to your knees, and your hands grip his massive thighs through his jeans until you’re eye level with his bulge.
He cocks his head to the side, looking down at you like you were the sweetest thing. His fingers massage your scalp in slow circles, his other fingers sinking into his mouth as he slowly licks your slick off of them, all while never diverting his heated gaze from you.
Once clean, he wipes his saliva across his shiny chrome belt buckle, leaving a wet streak across the metal. Then he’s slowly unbuckling it, teasingly slow.
“I’ll consider this my thank you.” He says as he lets his belt fall open. You reach your hands up and unbutton his jeans, sliding down the zipper and letting your hands slip into his boxers.
You can feel him twitch as soon as your palm finds him, and as you pull him out, San’s breath hitches. Thick, heavy, and hot in your hand, you hold San’s cock, and you’re barely able to wrap your fingers around the length of him.
Pretty and pink, San runs his tongue over his lower lip when he catches the way your throat bobs as you take in the size of him. You raise your eyes to look at him as you stroke him languidly, and he's groaning under his breath.
His thumb hooks on his belt loop, his hand in your hair slipping from your hair and gripping himself at the base. “Tongue, baby.”
You obey, letting your tongue fall from your mouth. San lifts his cock and oh so gently slaps his pink tip against your tongue, drops of pre falling into your mouth. San can’t help the low giggle that rumbles from his chest at how willing you were for him.
“Relax for me, okay?” he whispers, and you grab either of his hips to hold yourself steady. “You gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth?”
“Yes, Sannie,” you whimper, and he slaps himself against your tongue a few more times before both of his hands wound through your hair.
“Alright, sweet girl, breathe through your nose.” You relax your jaw and keep your eyes on his as he slides his cock past your lips, along your tongue, and into your mouth. You feel the thick vein against your tongue and the way he twitches when you hollow out your cheeks for him.
His grip in your hair tightens the further he glides into your mouth, and he comes to a stop just before his tip hits the back of your throat. Your eyes watered, and tears gathered on your lower lashes, and San was doing everything in his power to be a gentleman and not fuck your mouth to tears, but you were making it so hard.
Your tongue twitches against the underside of his length as he slowly slides out of your mouth, then thrusts back in in a muted, gentle rhythm.
He gnaws on his bottom lip, his flushed, sweaty skin giving him a glow that makes your thighs clench below you. His eyebrows are knit together, and his lips part in a quiet moan when he slips further down your throat. “Oh baby…” he sighs, rewarding you with a soft moan that makes your stomach do flips.
He pushes himself deeper into your mouth, and your nails dig into his thighs, but you’re taking it so well.
“Yeah… atta girl. So fucking precious,” he praised around hitched breaths and whiny groans. Drool slips down the corner of your mouth the further he pushes himself further down your throat. His scent, his taste, everything about him was overwhelming you to the point of painful arousal, and all you wanted to do was feel him everywhere.
You moan around his cock, and San’s grip on your scalp tightens, the vibrations of your sweet voice making it impossible to keep it together. “Make too much noise, and I’ll cum down your throat, sweetheart. Let's have manners, please.” He moans lowly as he pulls himself out of your mouth, your lips suctioning around his tip with a wet, dirty kiss.
You let your tongue fall out and drag it along the underside of him, and he shivers in bliss when you drag it up and gently tease his head.
San can’t take it any longer, and he’s lifting you by your hair and practically throwing you against the wall. He’s on his knees next, spreading your thighs and hiking one over his shoulder. He doesn’t even bother to take off your shorts or your panties, as he’s simply pulling the flimsy fabric to the side and cupping your dripping cunt with his mouth.
Warm and wet, his tongue dives between your folds, licking up, down, left, and right. Your hands bury themselves in his hair. His large, rough hands hold your thighs open for him as he bullies your pussy with his mouth, open kisses, and greedy licks. His lips wrap around your clit as he buries his face as deep as he can between your thighs like he can’t get enough. He’s groaning and cooing into your cunt, getting off on how wet he’s managed to make you just by being here.
His tongue swirls around your clit, and you gasp aloud, your head falling back against the wall in desperation.You could see the blue that the popsicle he had earlier stained on his tongue.
Muffled and heavy, San’s voice travels through your cunt when he speaks. “Babydoll, look at me.” You force your head to crane back down and look at him.
His mouth between your thighs and his eyes stare up at you with a burning intensity that you can feel in your stomach.
“There she is, hi baby.” Keeping his eyes on yours, he teases your clit with suckling kisses, his fingers gently dragging through your slick folds as he watches your face fall in pleasure.
The sweat on his brow and your arousal on his lips, you feel like falling apart. “Keep looking at me while I eat this pussy. Please?” he whines as he begs, but the sly smile on his face is all telling as his fingers slip inside of you and curl up, his tongue laving flat over your puffy clit.
The hand on your thighs rubs gentle circles against the soft skin, all the while his tongue draws patterns on your clit, and his fingers work you inside out like he knows your body like the back of his hand.
“F-fuck… San…” you whine, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, his warm mouth almost too much for you.
“Don’t whine,” he groans, curling his fingers harder inside of you. “You’re not nearly wet enough, and I’m a big boy baby.” He smiles around your clit, his teeth nipping at it gently.
Your muscles tense, and you moan drunkenly at each press and prod of his thick fingers; each slip of his tongue has your brain fogging over.
“Need you to cum at least once before I fuck you, I might hurt you, beautiful.” All sweet sugary words, but the sinful grin and the precise way he works out your cunt make everything he says fall on deaf ears.
“So get nice and wet for me, soak yourself, so I don’t break you when I put you through this wall.” San’s fingers move faster, deeper, his lips staying attached to your clit as he sucked on it greedily, and your legs began to shake.
His promises make your orgasm fly towards you faster, and coupled with him suckling on your clit, he moans lowly around it, the vibrations setting your nerves on fire.
“I feel you, you’re right there.” San’s fingers press against your G-spot with the perfect pressure, circling the pads of his fingers against that spongy spot with mind-melting purpose. “Keep your eyes on me and cum on my tongue, mkay?”
Your breath shudders in your lungs, and your hips buck against his mouth, and then you’re shattering around his fingers. Your entire body shakes as he drags his fingers against your walls slowly, his tongue lapping at your clit to help you ride it out.
“There you go, that's it… let it go, baby.” You whine loudly, gripping his hair so tightly he growls in pain, but his fingers never cease their movement, his lips moving away from your clit and peppering kisses against the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
“Rock your hips, let it run its course… like that. Such a good listener.” Your hands eventually fall from his hair, your body twitching, his warm tongue dragging up your inner thigh and licking the sweat of your skin.
With one final kiss to your knee, he lifts himself from below you and backs you up against the wall, giving you no room to run. His forehead presses against yours, a hungry glint in his eyes as his hands cup the underside of your thighs and lift you against the wall, secure in his big arms. His mouth finds yours again, all heat and desperation on his lips as he kisses you into a fever.
“San, it's too hot, please…” You cry pathetically. “Take it off.” San groans and flattens his tongue against yours, drool slipping down your chin as he kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy.
He’s holding you against the wall with just the force of his body alone, reaching down and pulling your shorts and panties off your legs. Your tank top is next, all but ripping it off your body. He reached back and pulled his own sweat-soaked top over his head, throwing it across the heated hallway.
His mouth dips down and takes your nipple in his mouth, swirling his thick tongue around it and sucking hungrily. You whimper, your hands flat against his back, your nails scratching pretty red patterns against his skin as the stimulation rocks through your nervous system.
He kisses up your chest, along your neck until his mouth slots with yours once again with a sick kind of greed. “Need you so bad…” he groans against your lips, massaging your thighs as you feel him line his leaking tip up with your fluttering cunt. Hot and pulsing against you, you bite his soft bottom lip and look up at him, your eyes glazed over and begging for him.
He wraps his hands around the back of your neck, his forehead firm against yours. His dark eyes bore into yours like he’s trying to peer past them, and you’ve never felt so exposed.
You feel as he teases your entrance, just barely slipping the tip inside of you. You began to shy away, your eyes fluttering shut to escape his heated gaze. But San’s hands cup the back of your neck harder, fingers locking at your nape, brushing his lips over yours a little less gently this time.
“Stop running.” He purrs dangerously, and slowly he slides his cock inside of you. Each inch that breaches your walls, he stops when your eyes roll, and only continues filling you up when your eyes meet his once again.
Your mouth falls open against his, he pushes further inside of you, and every pulsing inch of his length grazes your walls so perfectly. San winces and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, the warmth of your insides thinning his string of composure.
“Taking it so fucking good, babydoll, such a needy pussy, she’s sucking me in.” His thumbs stroke your heated cheeks, and he catches the drool that slips down your chin, promptly sliding his thumb in your mouth.
“Keep your spit in your mouth, baby. We’re already messy enough, don’t you think?” When his hips press flush against yours, you sigh aloud, feeling so full your bones rattle in satisfaction.
San’s brow furrows, keeping his thumb in your mouth, he pulls his hips back slowly, dragging every thick inch of his dick against every nook and cranny of your insides, sliding back in with a low moan.
You whine around this thumb, his fervent eyes making you want to cry. You could not escape his gaze, his hands, his thick, hot cock splitting you open against your hallway wall. He rolls his hips into you, his fat tip nudging that spot deep inside that makes your legs clench around his hips. The hands on your neck hold your head steady and still so you can’t look away, and he’s easing into a rhythm.
Lazy and deep, he slides in cock in and out of you like he was trying to rock you to sleep, but the pressure only made your body tingle. Your fingernails rake up his back, and San winces, kissing the corner of your mouth, grinding his cock so sincerely into you that your moans come out in sad, desperate gasps.
“Yeah baby…” he coos against your skin, the resonant sounds of your slick cunt trying to suck him back in each time he glides out, sending your brain into overdrive. “Slow, deep strokes. Let you feel everything…”
His thumb presses down against your tongue, and your eyelids shake, doing your very best to keep your eyes open. “San..” you mumble around his thumb. San cranes his head upwards so he was looking down at you, his lids low and his mouth parted in continuous soft moans.
Every time he bottoms out, he's sure to grind into you, to really torture you, forcing you to feel every thick centimeter of him brushing every nerve inside of you. He eases into a meaner pace, slipping his thumb out of your mouth and dragging it down your bottom lip. His hands move to the front of your neck, his fingers cradling your jaw while his thumbs press against the sensitive soft spots on the sides of your throat.
He presses just hard enough to limit your airflow, and your head begins to buzz quietly. He drags his hips back slowly one last time before he sinks back in with renewed vigor, fucking you hard and deep against the wall.
Pounding your pussy with a passion that made your chest flutter, moaning weakly as he stared down at your bliss twisted face with nothing short of pure adoration. And maybe a bit of pity. He was kind of bullying you, but he wouldn’t say he was loving watching you struggle to take his cock.
Struggling to accommodate his change in pace, struggling to breathe around deep strokes and feeling so full it felt like you had no space to take in oxygen.
“Pretty little girl…” he bites out around a bassy whine, pressing his thumbs harder against your throat. “You feeling full, babydoll?”
You can’t even nod with the hold he has on your head, and you cry out when he targets a hard, sharp thrust against your sensitive gspot.
“I know baby....” he taunts you with his pouty voice, teasing you about your sensitivity. “But it feels so good doesn’t it?” San swallows your swollen lips in a consuming kiss, grinning when he feels your moans fall down his throat. “Doesn’t it?” he murmurs into your mouth.
“Y-yes! Fuck.. feels s-so good..” you cry against his lips and hes fucking you harder, driving his cock into you with a force that has your slaps of skin echoing down the dimly lit hallway.
“Yeah…” he laughs lowly, biting your tongue playfully. “No more running, you take it like you’re meant to sweetheart. God you’ve been driving me fucking crazy.”
His breath stutters when you clench around him, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against yours, directing his gaze to the nasty sight below. His thick cock rutting into you smoothly, you cream coating the length of him with each thrust, your cunt sucking him back in like it had a mind of its own.
This pulls a loud, deep moan from San, and you take a moment to attempt to catch your breath now that his attention was directed elsewhere. He slows down to really watch the way he slides in and out of your guts, mesmerized by the sight. He’ll pick up the pace again, transfixed over how your bodies connected, how your bodies seemed to crave each other.
The slick coating your inner thighs, the sweat trailing down the rolls in your stomach, the drops of wet that fell down the dips in his abs. He was addicted in the best way.
“Do you understand how crazy you make me feel (Name)?” He’s working his way back up to that deep punishing pace, gathering drool in his mouth before he’s spitting on his cock as it slips in and out of you, drunk off the feeling of your warmth around him.
He drags his eyes back up to yours and his gaze is feral, and you can’t help but whimper pathetically. Rolling his body into yours his pace grows sloppy, too lost in the pleasure, soft, heavy moans falling from his lips.
“Please, need you to cum again. Not gonna stop- fuck… not till you cum. Please, baby…” San begs lowly, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his warm tongue dragging across your skin, his warm pants of breath fanning over your ear.
He’s adjusting the angle of his hips, searching for that perfect angle to send you over the edge. Your nails dig harder into his back, and you nearly squeal when he hits that spot just right.
“Right there?” San groans, and he stays just like that, pounding against that sweet spot nice and rough, and blood pumps, and your brain melts as he fucks you against the wall with the sole intention of unravelling you.
“Mmhm, right there. C’mon babydoll, jus’ wanna be good to you. Jus’ wanna make you feel good, you turn me on so much. Fuck, it's insane.” He's rambling, your moans drowning out his low voice when he slots his lips with yours in a wet kiss.
You stutter over your breathless words, trying to tell him you were cumming, but he can feel you, he can feel you pulsing around him and gushing all over his cock.
“Fuck!” you whine, your thighs shaking around his hips as he fucks you through your orgasm, rocking his hips into you to drag that climax out of your body.
His hips slow to a heavy grind, your constant clenching making his sensitive cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” San whines, pressing his forehead against yours.
“Look at me, please, baby.” He whispers against your lips, his hands holding your face like you were everything. “Look at me while I fill you up.”
You bite your bottom lip and whimper softly, giving him those sweet little needy eyes. “Wan you to cum in me Sannie…” you whine, your breath fanning over his lips. “Please, wanna feel it spilling out of me.”
San’s eyes roll, his breath laboured and breaking. He presses his lips to yours, sinking his cock deep into you one more time before he’s cumming, filling you up with his seed. He groans into your mouth, his deep noises cracking as he rolls his hips into you, fucking your pussy full of him, riding his orgasm out with your spent body.
“Fuckkk me…” San runs his tongue over yours, his breathing coming to something calm as his high finishes washing over him.
As soon as you catch your breaths, you glance up at him expectantly. “You think we could turn the AC on now?”
San raises an eyebrow and laughs out loud. “You still hot, sweetheart?” You smile and half roll your eyes.
“Well, I’m certainly not cold, San. I think we got a little distracted.” He smiles so softly it makes your heart go fuzzy, and he's kissing you tenderly and slowly. You giggle against his lips when his hands gently caress your sides, helping you down off the wall and onto your feet.
You stumble a little bit, but he catches you, being sure to make sure you don’t crumble to the floor. “Well, let’s see then.”
He reaches next to him and slides open the closet door, and lo and behold, the AC has defrosted. He leads you over to the thermostat, and with a flip of the switch, you can hear the familiar whirring of your functional HVAC system, and you nearly cry tears of joy.
“Well would you look at that, good as new.” San smiles, his little dimples on show as he massages your shoulder. “It’ll take a minute for the air to cool but you should be good for now.”
You pat his chest and wipe the side of your neck. “Next time it frosts over I’m just coming to your place, no way I’m sitting in the heat like that again.”
San lowers his lips to your neck and kisses it softly with a smile, tickling you. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad now was it?” He murmurs, his hands hooking at your hips and pulling you closer.
You barely resist his soft touches before you’re shimmying away. “You’re all sweaty San, you need a cold shower, bad.”
He clicks his tongue as he follows you to your bathroom. “Hey, you literally are too, if not more than me.” With a click of your bathroom door, you pull him inside and run the cold water, sighing softly as he kisses you stupid against your vanity mirror.
Your free spirit of a cat is perched on the windowsill of your neighbor’s apartment, meowing softly at San’s cat, who’s sprawled on the floor in the comfort of the working AC in his home.
She bounds down onto the floor and nuzzles up against the male cat, purring softly.
One problem after another is solved. Your leaking fridge, your cracking floorboards, and now your AC. Next on the list is probably trying to find out how your cat keeps breaking and entering your neighbor’s house.
But you’re sure he won’t mind, you’ll be seeing a lot more of each other after all.
my hard hours are technically closed but i’ll make an exception for you dear anonnie bc the topic at hand is so yummy like im actually so weak for this ughhhh and since this isn’t member specific i’ll go ahead and come up with bite sized scenarios for my bias trio and they’ll go up in intensity with each one heheheh. happy new year i hope you enjoy this little treat ;3 <33
warnings: pussy slapping obv lol, soft dom! yunho, lowkey sadistic hard dom! wooyoung, hard dom! (pussydrunk) san, teasing, dirty talk, possessiveness, pet names, name calling, praise, false praise, degradation, spit play, sir kink, size kink, hand/vein kink, fingering, just the tip until it’s not, bulge kink, oral (receiving), overstim, squirting
level 1 ♡
Yunho routinely stuffed two long, slender fingers back inside your pulsing cunt, knowing they were hitting your g-spot from the way you were whining and writhing around underneath his larger frame, his free hand clutched around your jolting hip. “Fuck, princess, you’re so tight right now. Are you going to cum for me?”
“Y-yes, Yunnie, can you please do that thing I like? I’m so close…!” you requested, gazing up at him underneath your wet lashes.
“My naughty girl…” he whispered softly, gently spreading your pussy open and rubbing the rough pad of his thumb against your exposed clit, making you gasp. “You want me to hit your pretty pussy so you can cum all over me?”
“Fuck–yes, please…!”
“Then, take it, princess,” Yunho sighed softly, making sure to curl his fingers just a little more inside your soaked, squelching hole, right as he brought his large hand down onto your cunt, hitting it hard enough to propel you over the edge.
“Cumming…”
“Mm, that’s it, baby, don’t stop. Keep cumming for me,” Yunho breathed out, sending you into a state of prolonged esctasy when he began to rub his rough palm against your pulsing clit, your juices leaking down his veined forearm. He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean, before leaning down to kiss you, murmuring against your lips, “You always taste so good, princess.” Kiss. “Always look so pretty when you fall apart for me.” Another kiss. “Wanna do it again?”
level 2 ♡ ♡
Wooyoung had you locked in place in his lap for over an hour, warmth emanating from his chest against your back, his thighs positioned in a way that kept yours spread apart, routinely smacking his palm against your swollen clit and fucking your slick cunt with only the tip of his throbbing cock. The small, pathetic whimpers you made as soon as his hand came in contact with your stinging cunt and the sound of your hole squelching each time he stretched you open again was like music to his ears, but he knew what you really needed. His low, breathy voice sent a wave of goosebumps up the slope of your neck when he cooed, “Awwh, does my sweet girl need to cum now? Does she deserve to? Hmm?~”
“Yes, please, Youngie, let me cum,” you pleaded, about to melt into Wooyoung as soon as he began to lower you further and further down onto his cock, filling you up so good you thought you might cum then and there. “Fuck me, please, oh my god, fuck me–”
“Mm, you’re already so desperate for my cock that you’re begging for it?” Wooyoung rubbed his thumb around your clit, before his fingers formed a V, sliding them up and down your cunt around the outline of his slick cock that was still pushing inside you ever so slowly. “You need it inside this pretty pussy that bad?”
“Yes, Youngie, I need your cock so bad, I can’t take it!”
Then, be a good girl for me and take it all,” he grunted in your ear, immediately slamming his hips into yours, his thrusts unrelenting, not giving you any choice but to take his thick, veined cock deep inside your cunt until he decided you had enough.
“Ah– ah – it’s too – fuck,” you gasped, your body seizing up with overwhelming pleasure after being teased for so long, tears forming in your eyes from the sight of his cock protruding slightly through your lower stomach each time he filled you up. “Too much.”
Wooyoung tsked, squeezing your clit roughly between two fingers, making you shudder. “Don’t you start whining now. What happened to the desperate little slut that was asking for this just a second ago?” He sent a harsh smack to your clit, amused by the barely audible sound that left your drooling mouth. “You’re going to cum just like this, and you’re going to like it.”
“Youngie, please,” you choked out, turning your head to look up at him through teary eyes, only to find pure carnal desire in his.
Wooyoung smiled darkly, licking at the mole on his bottom lip, his fingers pressing into the bulge present in your abdomen just to feel his throbbing cock as it sank inside you over and over again. “You asked for it, so I’m going to make you cum so hard you forget your own name. Sounds good, yeah?”
level 3 ♡ ♡ ♡
“Can I cum, sir? Please? I’ve been so good for you, so can I please–fuck!” you gasped, withstanding yet another smack directly onto your reddened cunt, a fresh wave of arousal leaking out of you.
San, who was in between your thighs, taking his sweet time devouring your cunt, wasn’t in the mood for your games. “A good girl waits for her reward, isn’t that right, you little brat?”
“I’m not a brat,” you whined, squeezing your thighs together to squish his cheeks a bit, letting out a giggle, knowing you were withholding San from his meal. This encouraged him to grab your legs by the bend of your knees and lift your thighs up, folding you in half.
“Oh, yes, you are.” San leaned down, licking one long, slow stripe up from your dripping hole to your puffy clit, grabbing your hands to make you hold your own thighs up, which you obediently did, this time around. “You know what else you are, princess?”
“What, Sannie?”
San pressed his thumbs against your folds to spread you apart for him, watching your hole flutter around nothing. “You’re my dumb little slut.” He pursed his lips and spat directly into you, before plugging your cunt back up with his thick, thrusting fingers, satisfied with the sudden moan that tore through your throat. He gave you a fake pout. “Aren’t you, baby?”
You were at your limit, only able to take what he gave you, your mouth open in a soundless bout of pleasure, your teary eyes focused on San’s smug face, taking yet another finger inside you, feeling it rubbing against your gummy spot.
“I asked you a question, princess,” San grunted, smacking his free hand down onto your clit, more slick dripping down his taut, veiny forearm, eliciting more breathless moans and whines from you, still finger-fucking you so brutally to the point that all you could focus on was the shlick shlick shlick sounds your pussy made each time he pounded his digits into you. “Can you even hear me? That look on your face is telling me otherwise. How are you already fucked stupid when I haven’t even stuffed my cock inside you, huh? Are you that much of a whore that all you need is to get your puffy little cunt filled and spat on, and you’re ready to cream yourself?”
“Yes, sir…!” you were finally able to verbalize, your voice strained with immense pleasure, your thighs beginning to shake. “I’m such a whore for you, Sannie, only for you, so please, let me cum.”
San simply smiled up at you, dimples forming near his pretty, pink, arousal-covered lips, immediately curling his fingers up into a come-hither motion, his mouth latching onto your abused clit, sucking and licking at it with his hot tongue relentlessly until your moans crescendoed and your warm squirt began to pour out of you. “That’s it, baby, that’s fucking it, oh my god, look at you…”
San groaned heavily, taking a moment to suck your cum off of his fingers, before diving in between your trembling legs again to press his mouth back onto your spasming cunt like he needed it for oxygen, dragging his tongue up and down your slit to collect your arousal, slurping it up into his mouth, his dark, hooded eyes never leaving your barely open ones. He took a second to breathe, before speaking, his voice ragged and dripping with arousal, “I’ll give you a minute to come down, but get ready, angel. You’re gonna keep cumming for me just like that, and I’m only gonna stop when you have nothing left to give me, alright?”
summary: minsan fuck you within an inch of your life <3
w.c: 2.4k
warnings: dom! minsan, sub! reader, san’s a meanie, mingi’s kinda a meanie but mainly a baby boy, himbo energy, threesome, somewhat heavy focus on mxm, spit roasting, spanking, face fucking, degradation, praise, name calling, kissing, facial, cum eating, snowballing, sloppy seconds, overstim, squirting, fingering, anal fingering (m receiving), masturbation, bulge kink, breeding kink, cum inflation (for a split second), creampies
a/n: this was a request i got by a lovely anon <3 the concept of getting absolutely ruined by minsan is so goddamn hot,, i got really lost in the sauce this time around and i’m proud to say that this is actually just unapologetic filth and nothing else so i hope you enjoy~~
Masterlist
“Hey, be a little more gentle with her, San. She’s gonna break before I get a turn,” Mingi whined with a pout, releasing the grip he had on your hair to reach across your body and run his fingers along the section of your ass that still sported San’s sizable handprint, forcing his cock further into your throat, beads of saliva and pre-cum dribbling down your bulging neck and onto the already stained sheets below.
Positioned on the opposite side of Mingi with his cock drilling into your needy hole, San rolled his eyes, slamming both hands against your ass, his fingers sinking into your stinging skin and spreading it open slightly to watch his slick cock continuously get swallowed up by your hole. “You love it, don’t you, pretty slut?”
A muffled, though enthusiastic ‘mm-hmm’ left your occupied mouth.
“See, look. She wants me to break her, Min.” San hunched forward over your body, reaching for your jaw and holding it steady as Mingi continued to thrust more than half of his over-sized length into the small opening of your throat, feeling his fingers begin to grow wet with your spit. You felt his warm breath on your back and could practically hear his shit-eating smirk, not knowing his eyes were still on Mingi, simply because he couldn’t bring himself to stop watching him wreck your throat. “Just look at her drooling all over herself like a brainless whore. She loves to get stuffed with cock, Min, that’s why we’re here,” San chimed, hoping he was educating his glossy-eyed, panting friend, giving him a crooked smile.
“You’re–shit–right, San,” Mingi huffed out, sweat dripping past his choppy dyed hair and off of his sharp jaw, as he hunched over your body as well and reached out, gripping both sides of your ass. He spread you open further so that San could slide in and out even easier, forcing your back to arch painfully from the way you were sandwiched between them.
San and Mingi found themselves in a similar position before, face to face, both balls-deep in a toy they preferred to share together, cocks throbbing away as they gazed at each other’s flushed, pleasure-struck faces, unable to ignore the presence of one another’s plush lips.
“Min, lemme taste you,” San mumbled, his hand moving from your jaw to your neck to clutch it, simply to feel the heaviness of his friend’s cock against his fingers as it slipped in and out of your throat. Your gurgled noises of approval and shiny, slicked-up cunt went unnoticed once San and Mingi’s lips collided, each getting a fair share of one another’s spit, their tongues eagerly licking into each other’s groaning mouths.
When Mingi was done exploring San’s open mouth, San took the lead and sucked his friend’s larger tongue into his own mouth, his flushed cheeks hallowing slightly. When he heard a whimper, San opened his eyes to witness Mingi’s big brown eyes looking right back at him. Swallowing their combined saliva down with a gulp, San let go of your throat to grab Mingi’s chin, one hand still cemented on your hip, making sure he didn’t miss a single beat when it came to drilling himself into your sopping wet hole. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, MinMin? Huh? Are you gonna spill your load inside her tiny throat and make a big mess?” he asked in a patronizing tone, his ego growing in size when Mingi whimpered more and nodded his head quickly, a bit a drool falling from his lips. San’s dark eyes sharpened, the sides of his lips curling into a salacious smile. “Then fucking do it.”
“Okay, m’ gonna fill her fuckhole with my cum, Sannie,” Mingi exhaled delightedly, reaching down and gripping the sides of your head, suddenly pistoning his oversized length into your throat, making you gurgle and choke on it, tears spilling down your heated cheeks.
San nodded his head in agreement, wrapping his fingers around your waist so firmly, his nails left indents. “Yeah, you are. Fill her slutty little throat.” Feeling you clench tightly around him, San groaned gutturally, his eyes just about rolling into his skull, responding by jackhammering himself into your dripping cunt as quickly as he could, the sounds of your muffled cries almost louder than the lewd sound of his balls smacking against your slick skin. “Fuck, baby, you’re about to cum all over my cock just from being our own personal fuckdoll, huh?”
A strained, muffled sound of approval exited your throat, only able to take being pounded into from both sides once more, before the dam inside you broke. Your body shuddered and your limbs almost gave out underneath you, completely zoning out from the bliss until Mingi’s cockhead slapped down onto your cheek, hot spurts of white splattering out onto your face. This was followed by something hot and sticky painting your inner walls, some of it leaking out past San’s softening length. “Fuck,” was all you could choke out, your voice a bit scratchy and deep after the abuse your throat took.
San smiled to himself, gently rubbing your hips in soothing circles, his lower half still flush to yours. “I would pull out, but I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to knock you up, baby.”
Turning your head back to look up at San, you licked at your lips, tasting the saltiness of Mingi’s load on your tongue. “Good.”
San beamed at your reaction, his cock starting to harden inside you, wanting to degrade you but choosing to focus on the cum that Mingi left dripping down your flushed face. “What a messy girl. You should clean yourself up.” He slid in and out of you a bit, just to feel and listen to the filthy squelching sounds, before slowly pulling out and sitting on the mattress.
Shuddering from the sensation of cum leaking out of you, you got up and sat back down on your knees, looking back and forth between the men, gathering up some of the lukewarm liquid on your face with two fingers. You began to suck and lick at them, moaning softly, beckoning the both of them closer once your other hand slipped in between your thighs to play with yourself.
Slipping his hand around your waist, Mingi leaned in, running his hot tongue up the side of your cheek, collecting some of the milkiness for himself. “You’re so naughty, baby,” he whispered against your ear, his other hand clasping around one of your tits to squeeze and knead it, licking along your jawline.
San was not far behind him, his mouth already attached to your neck to suck and lick at it, two of his thick fingers pushing into you and curling up to rub at your sensitive spot. The squeaking sound that escaped your lips made him smile against your skin, slowly kissing upwards until he got to your cheek, swiping his tiny tongue across your jaw to taste Mingi for himself. He grunted, looking over to his friend, still shoving his digits in and out of you, your juices accompanying the cum dripping down his wrist. “You need to drink more water, idiot.”
“Huh?” Mingi mumbled absentmindedly, staring dumbly at San, remembering to grab your other tit to knead it as well, pinching your nipple between two fingers. “Something wrong with my cum?”
“It tastes bad, you big dummy,” San hissed, removing his fingers from your cunt just as your pleasure began to crescendo, holding up his shiny, cum-coated fingers near all three of your faces. “Lick. This is what it’s supposed to taste like.”
You pouted along with Mingi, for different reasons, licking between San’s pointer and middle finger, Mingi’s tongue joining yours to lap up the dripping cum. Before you knew it, you were passing the remaining liquid into Mingi’s open mouth using your tongue, spreading your legs open wider when his hand left your chest to cup your pussy, his palm rubbing eagerly against your swollen clit.
San pushed his fingers in between the both of your moving mouths, his cock twitching painfully into his chiseled abdomen, barely able to take watching the both of your swap spit in such a fervent manner. Groaning, he grabbed Mingi’s shoulder and squeezed it, encouraging him to pull away and look at him with barely open eyes.
“What is it, San?” he asked softly, licking at any remnants of cum and saliva that was left on his lips.
“I need you to stuff her with your cock, Min.” He ran a hand through Mingi’s sweaty hair, smiling. “For me.”
Mingi smiled back at San, his cock pulsing against your thigh. “Anything for you, bro.”
-
Mingi had you in his lap on the edge of the bed, your back sticking against his heated bare chest, his large hands squeezing into your open thighs, his cock hitting your sweet spot relentlessly, so much so that your cum sprayed out of your pulsing cunt. It felt so goddamn good you were convinced that the stimulation was going to break your mind. It didn’t help that San was on his knees in between Mingi’s thighs, his fingers cupping his friend’s swollen balls and his mouth open to catch your squirt on his small pink tongue, his face soaked with your release.
“That’s a good girl, do it again,” San praised, bringing his fingers up to rub them rapidly across your clit, pressing them harder into your bud when your hips tried to move away from his touch, not stopping until more clear liquid shot out of you and coated his already dripping tongue. “Fuck, that’s a good slut.”
“No more,” you croaked out, your lower half so numb, you’d probably fold like a rag doll if Mingi wasn’t holding you in place. “I-i can’t!”
“You can take it, sweetheart,” Mingi encouraged breathily, his deep voice penetrating your ears along with his heavy pants, sending a jolt of arousal into your core. He suddenly shuddered, emitting a surprisingly whiny moan upon feeling San’s tongue drag up his perineum to his sensitive balls, encouraging him to buck up into you to chase his high.
San ran his palms up Mingi’s large thighs, squeezing into them the way Mingi was gripping yours, his thumbs teasing his friend’s puckering hole. Smirking at the sound of Mingi’s soft whimpering, San slipped a finger inside, feeling Mingi slowly begin to grind against it on his own.
Mingi’s jaw hung open, too consumed with lust to notice another finger sliding into him until he felt a sudden, powerful crackle of pleasure erupt from within his core. “Oh, fuck, that’s it, right there, right there,” Mingi groaned, almost growling his words out, digging his fingers into your bruising skin and slamming himself into you even rapidly than before, sending you into a state of euphoria.
San stroked himself vigorously, the muscles in his upper and lower arms straining so hard the veins bulged out, a bit of sweat sliding along his smirking face. “Oh, yeah? Does it feel that good, Min? Are you gonna cum in our plaything’s tight little cunt again?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah–” Mingi could hardly speak, his body and mind completely overloaded with pleasure, to the point that tears began to form inside his hazy eyes, so close that he couldn’t possibly control the whines and whimpers that were joining your own, the both of your bodies unconsciously moving in tandem so that you could reach your highs together.
San took delight in the visual of his friend and fucktoy completely falling apart in front of him, his fist squeezing around his cockhead, pre-cum spilling out, the slick allowing him to pleasure himself as fast as possible.“Fuck–Pump…her full…nnngh…of your cum, Min. Please, just make her nice and full for me,” San practically begged, so close to his own high that he didn’t care how desperate he sounded.
“Cumming, I’m cumminggg,” Mingi moaned whinily, slack jawed, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, letting go of one of your thighs to press his hand down against your lower abdomen, feeling the outline of his cock, swearing he felt your tummy bulge out ever so slightly the longer he drained his seemingly endless cumshot into your cunt.
You couldn’t even begin to form words, your orgasm doing the talking for you, letting out a few small, stunted moans, your entire body seizing up, spilling your release all over Mingi’s lap. You were so gone, you hardly noticed San suddenly standing up in front of the both of you, whispering something dirty and slapping his cock down onto your used pussy, his load spurting out and coating your mound, mixing with Mingi’s load, as it was already seeping out of you and down your ass.
“Pull out now, Min,” San commanded softly, watching Mingi slowly slide his cock out with a small squelch, lowering himself back down to the floor to get a close up view of the absolute mess that was pouring out of your used hole, his thumbs spreading you apart. You were stretched wide and filled up with so much cum, San was ready to shed a tear from such a beautiful sight. A moment of silence, mixed with quiet pants and sighs went by, before San came up with a brilliant plan. “Should we stuff her hole together?”
Wiping some sweat away from his forehead, Mingi tilted his head to the side, perking up, as though he were intrigued. “Like cock to cock?”
San licked at his lips, tasting you on them. “Yup.”
Mingi mirrored him, licking at his plush lips as well, eventually sighing to himself. “Double stuffed…”
San nodded, chuckling. “That’s right.”
Once he exchanged a sleazy look with his friend, Mingi slowly looked down at you, his gaze darkening.
