San’s Love: Woo’s Help
Pt 2
Pt 1 /// pt 3
MDNI 🔞
CW/TW: Explicit smut, Consensual rough sex, D/s , Threesome dynamics , Voyeurism, Overstimulation, Multiple orgasms, Breeding kink, Unprotected sex, Biting/Bruising, Praise & degradation, Possessive behavior, Body fluids, Aftercare, Emotional intimacy
WC ~ 5.3k
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You tried to take deep breaths—really tried. Your chest heaved in shaky, uneven pulls, ribs expanding against the damp sheets beneath you. But San's words hit you somewhere deep, somewhere primal, and went straight to your core. Your cunt clenched hard around nothing, a useless, desperate squeeze that made you whimper into the mattress. More slick dripped from your hole, warm and thick, running down your inner thigh in a slow trail that mixed with the mess already coating your skin. Your body was still responding to him even now—still wrecked, still hungry, still clenching on empty air like it was begging him to fill you again.
"Both of you look fucking pathetic."
The voice cut through the thick air behind you, sharp and amused.
You gasped—your whole body jerking, freezing mid-breath. Your eyes went wide, fingers curling into the sheets. You couldn't move. Couldn't even make an effort to cover yourself. Your bare, slick body lay completely exposed—ass still slightly raised, thighs trembling, cum and arousal smeared between your legs and across your skin. You were frozen, pinned by shock and humiliation, your tear-streaked face pressing into the mattress as your heart hammered against your ribs.
San's eyes snapped up—fast, sharp, predatory. His whole body tensed, shoulders drawing back, jaw clenching tight. For a split second, violence flickered across his face—the instinct of a man caught vulnerable, exposed, still half-hard and dripping. His hand tightened around his cock before he realized what he was doing, and his breath came out in a sharp, relieved exhale through his nose.
Because the voice registered.
Wooyoung.
"Damn, Sannie," Wooyoung chuckled, the sound low and teasing as he made his way toward the bed. His bare feet padded across the floor, and the mattress dipped on the opposite side. You turned your head just enough to see him through the blur of tears still clinging to your lashes. He was wearing a hotel robe, loose and casual, the front hanging open to reveal the smooth lines of his chest. His hair was still damp from the shower, dark strands falling across his forehead, droplets of water trailing down his temple. He smelled clean—soap and something sharp, fresh, like citrus and cedar—so different from the thick, heavy stench of sex and sweat that clung to every inch of you and San.
He sat down on the other side of you, close enough that you could feel the cool air shift around his body. His eyes moved over you slowly—taking in the mess of your trembling form, the red marks on your skin, the slick dripping from between your thighs, the way your cunt kept twitching and clenching around nothing. His gaze was calm, observant, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Then he looked past you, over to San.
"That looks painful," he said, nodding toward San's cock with a lazy tilt of his head. His tone was almost casual—like he was commenting on the weather. "You good, or do you need me to ice that down for you?"
San's jaw tightened. His teeth ground together audibly, a muscle jumping in his cheek. His cock was still twitching in his loose grip—still swollen, still angry red, still leaking. Another bead of pre-cum welled up at the tip, spilling over his knuckles and running down his shaft in a slow, glistening trail. He hissed through his teeth, his hips shifting involuntarily, and you watched him struggle—watched the way his abs clenched, the way his breath came in short, ragged pulls, the way his whole body fought against the overstimulation that was tearing him apart.
"Shut up," San gritted out, his voice rough and wrecked. But there was no real bite to it—just exhaustion, desperation, and the faintest edge of embarrassment that made his flush darken another shade.
Wooyoung's smirk widened. He leaned back on one hand, robe falling open further, and let his gaze drift back down to you—still trembling, still frozen, still dripping.
You tried to breathe. Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. But every inhale brought the scent of San's sweat and cum, and every exhale came out shaky and broken. Your cunt clenched again—empty, aching, clenching on nothing—and more slick dripped from your hole, pooling beneath you on the sheets. Your body was beyond your control now, responding to every stimulus on its own—every word, every glance, every shift of air against your swollen, oversensitive skin sending another involuntary shudder through you.
Wooyoung watched. His eyes tracked the way your thighs trembled, the way your hips twitched, the way your cunt fluttered and clenched helplessly. He tilted his head slightly, damp hair falling across his brow.
"She's still going," he murmured, almost to himself. Then, louder, directed at San: "You really did a number on her, huh?"
San's grip tightened on his cock, and he groaned—low, broken, pained. His head fell back against the headboard with a dull thud, eyes squeezing shut. His chest heaved, stomach tensing, cock jumping in his hand as another thick drop of pre-cum spilled over his fingers.
"Fuck off, Wooyoung," he rasped. But his voice cracked on the words, and his hips rolled upward again—chasing friction that wasn't there, chasing relief that wouldn't come.
"Oh, pretty girl," Wooyoung cooed, his voice dropping into something soft and mocking all at once. He leaned in closer, and you could feel the coolness radiating off his still-damp skin, a sharp contrast to the heat baking off your own body. "Looks like he used you well." His thumb came up to your cheek, wiping slow, deliberate strokes through the wet tracks of tears still clinging to your skin. The touch was gentle—almost tender—but his eyes told a different story. They were sharp. Hungry. "But you can take some more, right?"
Your breath hitched. A broken sound escaped your throat—half whimper, half sob.
"Look at our Sannie." Wooyoung tilted his head toward San, whose knuckles were white around his shaft, whose cock was still twitching and leaking despite the obvious pain etched into every line of his face. "Didn't you hear him? He still needs you."
His hand trailed from your cheek down to your chin, fingers curling firmly beneath your jaw. He held you there—steady, unyielding—and tilted your head up so you had no choice but to look at him. His dark eyes swept over your face, studying you like you were something fascinating, something ruined and beautiful. His thumb swiped across your bottom lip, slow and deliberate, smearing the slick of drool that had gathered there without you realizing. You couldn't help but whine—a thin, pathetic sound that vibrated against his thumb.
"Both of you are fucking whores," Wooyoung laughed. The sound was bright and full of mischief, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and for a moment he looked almost innocent—almost. But his grip on your chin tightened just enough to remind you he wasn't.
His hand slid from your chin down to your neck. Not squeezing—just holding. Cupping the side of your throat with a possessive ease that made your pulse hammer against his palm. He pulled, gently but firmly, drawing you upward. "Come on, pretty girl. Sit up."
Your arms trembled. Your thighs burned. Every muscle in your body screamed in protest, still wrecked from the brutal pounding San had given you. But you moved—shifting, pushing, struggling—your hands finding Wooyoung's forearms and gripping them for support. His skin was cool and smooth under your fingers, his arms steady beneath your weak grasp. You pulled yourself up slowly, knees dragging across the damp sheets, until you were sitting back on your heels, trembling and barely upright.
Wooyoung's hand stayed on your neck. Steadying you. Holding you in place.
His eyes trailed down.
From your face—tear-streaked, flushed, lips parted and wet—to the dark bruises blooming across your neck where San's teeth had sunk in. Down to your chest, rising and falling with each ragged breath, your nipples still swollen and tender. Down to your stomach, slick with a sheen of sweat and cum. Down to your cunt—puffy, red, swollen, still twitching involuntarily, still dripping with San's load and your own arousal. Down to your thighs, marked with red handprints and bite marks and the raw friction of skin against skin.
Both men went still.
The room was quiet except for the sound of breathing—yours, broken and shallow; San's, deep and ragged; Wooyoung's, calm and controlled.
Wooyoung's gaze lingered on the mess between your thighs. His tongue swept across his bottom lip. "So fucking pretty," he murmured, almost to himself.
San's cock twitched—hard. A visible, violent jerk that made him groan out loud, his head falling back, eyes squeezing shut. The sound was raw and involuntary, dragged out of him by nothing but the sight of you. Just looking at you—fucked out, marked up, trembling on your knees with his cum dripping down your thighs—was enough to make his overstimulated, angry-red cock throb again, another bead of pre-cum welling up and spilling over his knuckles.
"Fuck," San hissed through clenched teeth. His hips rolled upward involuntarily, chasing nothing, his hand tightening around himself. His voice cracked. "Fuck, she's—"
"Beautiful," Wooyoung finished for him, his thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point in your neck. You could feel it—the steady drum of his heartbeat against your skin, calm where yours was frantic. "She is."
Wooyoung's eyes lifted back to yours. Dark. Patient. Waiting.
"Come on, pretty girl," Wooyoung murmured, his breath warm against your ear. His fingers flexed against your waist, steadying you. "Don't you think our Sannie needs some help? Look what you've done to him."
Your gaze drifted to San—flushed, sweat-slick, his chest heaving with every ragged breath. His cock stood angry and swollen against his stomach, the head dark and dripping, twitching with every pulse of blood through the overstimulated shaft. He looked wrecked. Desperate. And it was because of you.
"It's only fair you help him," Wooyoung said, and then he was moving you.
His hands gripped your waist firmly, lifting and guiding your trembling body across the sheets until your knees bracketed San's thick thighs. He lowered you slowly—so slowly—until your cunt barely brushed against the head of San's cock. The contact was electric. Just that featherlight touch against your swollen, oversensitive folds made you whimper, your thighs shaking violently on either side of him.
San hissed beneath you, his stomach clenching, cock jerking at the barely-there pressure of your slick heat.
"Come on, pretty girl," Wooyoung coaxed from behind you, his hands still firm on your waist. "Ride him just how he likes it."
He started moving you.
Wooyoung's grip tightened, and he rolled your hips forward, dragging your dripping pussy along the full length of San's cock. The slick of your combined cum made the glide smooth and filthy—a wet, obscene sound filling the room as your folds parted around his shaft, coating him in your mess.
You and San moaned at the same time—your voice high and broken, his low and guttural. The friction was devastating. Every nerve in your cunt was raw and screaming, and the thick, hot ridge of his cock sliding against your clit sent sparks shooting through your spine.
"Fuck—" San choked out, his head falling back against the pillows. His hands flew to your thighs, sliding up the trembling muscle until his fingers found the crease where your hips met your thighs. He dug in there, gripping tight, and started dragging you down harder against him.
Together, they moved you.
Wooyoung from behind, rocking your hips in slow, grinding circles. San from beneath, pulling you down with bruising force, dragging your slick pussy against his cock and balls over and over until the sound was obscene—wet and squelching with every movement.
"Good girl," Wooyoung breathed against the back of your neck. "Just like that. Feel how hard you make him?"
San's cock was steel beneath you, burning hot and slick, the ridge of the head catching your swollen clit with every pass. Your thighs were shaking so badly you could barely hold yourself up, but you didn't have to—Wooyoung's hands held you steady while San's grip dragged you back and forth like you were nothing. Like you were a toy.
It didn't take long before San was getting desperate again.
His hips started rolling upward, chasing the friction of your cunt, his breathing turning harsh and uneven. His fingers dug deeper into your crease—hard enough to bruise—and a low, broken sound ripped from his throat.
"Please—" San gasped, and his voice cracked on the word. "Please, I need—"
Wooyoung saw it. Of course he did.
His grip on your waist tightened suddenly, and he lifted you. Just enough—just a few inches—pulling your aching cunt away from San's cock and leaving him whining beneath you, hips bucking up into empty air.
San's hand moved fast, wrapping around his shaft and angling it upward, the flushed head pressing right against your dripping entrance. You felt the heat of him there—blunt and thick and insistent—and your body clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled.
Then Wooyoung pressed you down.
All at once.
Your cry tore through the room—raw, shattered, almost a scream—as San's cock sank into you in one brutal stroke. He filled you completely, stretched you wide, buried to the hilt so deep you felt him in your stomach. Your walls clamped down around him, spasming and fluttering, still tender and raw from the first round, and the sensation was so much you saw white.
San's moan broke with yours—deep and wrecked, his whole body arching off the bed, fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to leave marks. "Fuck—fuck, you're so tight—"
Wooyoung's hands left your waist.
You heard the shift of fabric, the dip of the mattress, and then he was sitting beside San against the headboard, robe still loosely tied, damp hair falling into his eyes. He looked entirely too comfortable, too composed, watching the two of you with a lazy, satisfied smile.
"Good girl," he said, his voice low and warm. "Now ride him. Keep your pace."
You obeyed.
Your thighs burned as you lifted yourself—shaking, weak, barely able to move—and sank back down. The slide was slow and deep, San's cock dragging against every raw nerve inside you, and the sound that came out of you was pathetic. A sob. A whimper. Something broken.
" Faster," Wooyoung commanded softly. "Grind down on him. Let him feel all of you."
You rolled your hips, grinding down hard, and San groaned beneath you, his head tossing, hands sliding up to grip your waist. His hips bucked up to meet you, driving even deeper, and you keened—high and desperate—your hands braced against his chest for balance.
"That's it," Wooyoung praised, his voice like honey. "Look at him. Look at how desperate you're making him."
San's face was twisted—pleasure and pain blurring together, his jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut. His cock twitched inside you with every grind, thick and hot, stretching you so wide you could feel every vein.
"Keep going," Wooyoung murmured, leaning back against the headboard, watching. "Don't stop until he breaks."
You rode him with everything you had left—messy, sloppy, desperate. Your thighs burned and shook with every lift, every drop, but you couldn't stop. Didn't want to stop. San's cock hit something deep inside you every time you slammed back down, and the sound of your bodies meeting was obscene—wet, slick, filthy with the combined cum dripping from your cunt and smearing across his thighs.
San's hands stayed locked on your hips, fingers digging into the crease of your thighs, keeping you centered, keeping you exactly where he needed you. His grip was bruising, steadying, the only anchor you had as you bounced on him like your life depended on it. Every thrust down dragged a broken moan from your throat, and every roll of your hips wrenched a deep, stuttering groan from his chest.
"Fuck—fuck—fuck—" San chanted beneath you, his head thrown back against the pillows, neck corded with strain. His face was twisted into something between agony and ecstasy, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped, eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading along his temples. His moans kept breaking—winding up into whines, into choked cries that made your cunt clench around him involuntarily.
"That's it," Wooyoung's voice cut through the haze, smooth and commanding from his perch against the headboard. "Keep going. Take care of our Sannie. Make him feel good."
The words echoed in your mind, egging you on, driving your hips harder, faster. You watched San beneath you—this powerful, muscular man completely undone, drunk on pleasure and overstimulation, his cock twitching violently inside you every time you ground down. His stomach clenched and rippled with every thrust, his chest heaving, and he looked so fucking wrecked that it made your head spin.
You were chasing your own pleasure now too—grinding down hard, angling your hips to drag your swollen clit against his pelvis on every downstroke. It was like you were using him, using his body like your own personal toy, and the thought sent a sharp bolt of heat straight to your core.
"Look at you," Wooyoung murmured, his gaze fixed on where your bodies connected—watching your cunt slide up and down San's shaft, watching the thick strings of slick and cum pulling between you and smearing across his thighs. "So pretty. So good for him."
Then Wooyoung shifted his attention—and his voice dropped lower, directed past you, straight at San.
"You're doing so well, Sannie," he said, and his tone was almost tender, almost mocking. "Being such a good little dildo for her. Just lying there and taking it. Letting her use you."
The words hit you both like a fist. You felt San's cock jerk hard inside you, and your own walls clenched in response, a whimper tearing from your lips. San's moan cracked into something wrecked and desperate, his hips bucking up involuntarily, driving even deeper.
"Wooyoung—" San gasped, his voice ruined. "Don't—"
"Don't what?" Wooyoung chuckled softly. Then his hand reached over, fingers pressing flat against San's chest.
You watched as Wooyoung's palm dragged slowly across San's pecs, rubbing, teasing—tracing the defined muscle, flicking over a nipple. San's whole body tensed beneath you, his stomach clenching tight, and his cock buried deep inside you twitched so hard you felt it kick against your walls. You moaned at the sensation, hips stuttering in your rhythm.
Wooyoung kept tormenting him—fingers pinching and rolling one nipple, then the other, watching San squirm and gasp beneath you. His hand drifted lower, tracing down San's trembling abdomen, fingertips sliding through the sheen of sweat until they found it—a pool of slick gathered in the groove of San's hip, a mix of your cum and his, messy and warm.
With his other hand, Wooyoung pulled at the knot of his robe. The fabric fell open, falling to either side, leaving him exposed—his own cock hard and flushed against his thigh, leaking steadily.
He scooped up the wet slickness from San's body into his palm, brought it to his own cock, and coated himself with a slow, deliberate stroke. His breath hitched slightly, but his expression stayed composed—controlled—watching you both with those sharp, knowing eyes.
Then his hand trailed lower. Past his balls. Further.
You watched, still bouncing on San's cock, your rhythm faltering as your gaze locked onto Wooyoung's hand disappearing between his own thighs. His slick fingers found their target, and he pushed in—slowly, deliberately—one finger breaching his own entrance with a sharp exhale, his head tipping back against the headboard.
San's eyes snapped open at the sound, his gaze finding Wooyoung beside him, and a broken, wrecked groan tore from his throat as his cock throbbed violently inside you.
You watched, transfixed, as Wooyoung worked himself open with slow, deliberate precision. His finger slid deeper, then drew back, then pushed in again—a hypnotic rhythm that had nothing to do with you and everything to do with his own body. His lips parted on a soft exhale, eyes half-lidded, focused inward. The sight was obscene—his slick fingers disappearing between his thighs, the wet sound of it barely audible over the slap of your hips against San's.
But you were slowing down. You didn't mean to—your thighs were screaming, your body exhausted—but your hips stuttered, then drifted, matching Wooyoung's pace without thinking. Slow grind. Slow lift. Slow drop. Like your body was syncing to his rhythm, falling into a trance, your brain too fried to do anything but follow the slowest, most deliberate movement in your line of sight.
San felt it immediately.
"Fuck—" he groaned through clenched teeth, his hips jerking up beneath you, seeking more. "Don't stop—don't fucking—"
But you couldn't help it. Wooyoung's pace was pulling you under, his fingers stretching himself open with such careful, measured slowness that your own body mirrored it. Your cunt clenched weakly around San's cock as you lifted, then sank back down at a glacial pace, your eyes locked on Wooyoung's hand.
Wooyoung was just starting to work in a second finger—his breath catching, jaw tightening—when San's patience snapped.
His hands clamped down on your hips like iron, fingers digging into the crease of your thighs hard enough to bruise, and he held you still. Pinned. Your slow grind died instantly.
Then he fucked up into you.
Hard.
The first thrust punched a sound out of you that wasn't even a word—just a raw, broken cry as his cock slammed into the deepest part of you. He didn't give you time to recover. The second thrust came just as brutal, his hips snapping up with a force that lifted your body, your tits bouncing with the impact. The wet, obscene slap of his thighs against your ass echoed through the room, and you could hear how soaked you were—how filthy it sounded every time he buried himself to the hilt.
"San—San—oh god—" Your head rolled back, eyes rolling, mouth falling open. Wooyoung was forgotten. Everything was forgotten except the brutal, relentless pace of San's cock pounding up into your sopping cunt.
You were crying again—tears streaming down your cheeks, moans breaking into sobs every time he bottomed out. Your hands braced against his chest, fingers clawing at his sweat-slick pecs, but you couldn't move, couldn't control anything. He was using you like a fleshlight, holding you in place while he destroyed you from below.
Then you felt him—Wooyoung—behind you.
His arm slipped around your waist, his other hand sliding across your neck, pulling you back until your spine was flush against his chest. The position lifted you slightly, angled you differently, and San's next thrust drove into something that made your vision go white.
Your mouth opened to scream. Nothing came out.
Just silence—airless, soundless—as San's cock hit that spot again. And again. And again. Each thrust sent a bolt of pure, blinding pleasure through your body, and you couldn't even make a sound. Your mouth hung open, eyes wide and unseeing, body jerking with every impact.
It was a good thing Wooyoung had you. His arm locked around your waist kept you from collapsing, his hand on your neck steadied your lolling head. You felt yourself go limp against him—dead weight, supported entirely by his grip—as San continued to pound up into you.
Then it hit.
Your cunt convulsed—hard—spasming around San's cock like a vice, clenching so tight he groaned through his teeth. You had no control. Your body was seizing, muscles locking and releasing in waves as the orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs shook violently, your stomach clenched, and you felt yourself gushing—hot, clear liquid spraying from your overworked cunt, soaking San's pelvis, his thighs, the sheets beneath him.
San didn't stop. He fucked you straight through it, each thrust dragging another spasm from your body, another gush of wetness splashing against his skin. The sound was obscene—wet, sloppy, filthy—and San groaned loud and wrecked as he watched you fall apart on his cock.
Wooyoung's grip tightened on your neck, his lips brushing your ear. "That's it," he murmured, voice rough. "Let it all out. Fucking soak him baby.” You could feel how his body was tightening behind you. The way his voice tremble as he praised you. “ That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Wooyoungs voice was thick as he spoke into your neck.
San couldn't hold back. Your cunt was still spasming, milking him with each relentless clench, and his rhythm faltered—stuttered—then broke entirely.
"Fuck—fuck—" he snarled, his hips jerking up hard, burying himself so deep you felt him in your stomach. His grip on your hips turned bruising, yanking you down flush against his pelvis, holding you there—tight, immovable—as his cock pulsed inside you. Hot, thick spurts of cum flooded your walls, filling you in waves. You felt every throb, every twitch of his cock as he emptied himself deep inside you, his hips grinding weakly against your ass as he rode out his orgasm.
His whole body shuddered beneath you, chest heaving, muscles locked tight. A low, broken groan tore from his throat—raw and wrecked—as his cock kept twitching inside you, pumping the last of his cum into your soaked, overused cunt.
Wooyoung's arm slowly loosened from around your waist. His hand slid off your neck, fingers trailing down your spine with a gentleness that felt almost reverent. He guided you forward, lowering your trembling body down onto San's chest. Your limbs were useless—dead weight—and you collapsed against him with a wet, obscene sound. Sweat, cum, slick—everything pressed between your bodies, hot and sticky.
San's cock was still buried inside you, softening but thick enough to fill you. His arms wrapped around your back immediately, pulling you tighter, crushing your body against his. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths beneath your cheek, his heartbeat hammering against your temple.
Somehow, San managed to shift down on the bed, scooting toward the center while keeping you pinned to his chest. The movement made his cock slip free with a wet, obscene sound—half a pop, half a squelch—and you felt yourself gape open. Your cunt, stretched around him for so long, didn't close. It stayed open—raw, swollen, leaking.
You heard Wooyoung's sharp inhale behind you.
"Holy shit," he breathed.
San's hands stroked your back, his breathing still heavy. You lay there, boneless, trying to remember how lungs worked. Your thighs were still trembling. Your clit was still twitching. Everything ached.
"You two are a mess," Wooyoung said, his voice low and amused. You could hear the grin in it. "A beautiful fucking mess."
Neither of you responded. San's arms tightened around you, his chin resting on top of your head.
Wooyoung didn't stop talking. "San, your cock is still twitching—even soft, it's twitching. And her—" He paused, and you could practically hear him leaning closer. "Her pussy is still stretched open. It looks like a perfect mold made from your cock. Like it's still shaped around you."
A shudder ran through your body. Your cunt clenched weakly at nothing—empty air—and you felt a trickle of cum slip out, thick and slow.
"And your cum," Wooyoung continued, voice dropping lower. "It's oozing out of her. Slow. Thick. Rolling down her puffy lips—god, they're so swollen—and dripping right onto her clit. Still twitching. And then it keeps going, trailing down onto your stomach, San."
San groaned beneath you, his hands flexing against your back. "Wooyoung—"
"No, seriously." Wooyoung's voice was thick with something between awe and hunger. "It's the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Her cunt, gaping open, leaking your cum, still twitching like she wants more. And you—fuck, San, you're still dripping. You came so much it's pooling on your abs."
You buried your face in San's chest, too wrecked to respond. Your body was flushed, trembling, aching. Every nerve ending felt raw and exposed. San's skin was hot against yours, slick with sweat and cum and everything you'd both spilled.
San's hand found your hair, fingers threading through the damp strands. His other hand traced lazy circles on your lower back, dangerously close to the curve of your ass.
Wooyoung's words hit San like a drug. Even without seeing it himself, the way Wooyoung described everything so graphically—your gaping cunt, the cum dripping slow and thick down your swollen lips, the way you were still twitching like you needed more—San could picture it perfectly. His mind painted every detail in vivid, filthy color.
"She's so beautiful, isn't she?" San breathed, his voice rough and wrecked. His chest swelled beneath your cheek, arms tightening around you. "Look at her. Look at my baby. All wrecked and dripping and still shaking. That's because of me. I did that."
His hand stroked your hair, fingers trembling slightly. "She takes me so well. Every time. Every fucking time. Her cunt was made for me. Shaped around my cock like a glove."
Wooyoung hummed in agreement, his gaze locked on the mess between your bodies. "Can't argue with that." His voice was low, thick with something hungry. "She's gorgeous like this. All fucked out and leaking. Prettiest thing I've ever seen."
San kept talking, praising you, bragging about you like you were the most precious thing he'd ever claimed. His voice was raw, desperate, reverent. And with every word, every filthy compliment that spilled from his lips, you felt it—against the back of your thigh where it pressed against his lap. A twitch. Then another. Then a slow, unmistakable thickening.
His cock was getting hard again.
You were still so far gone, still floating somewhere between consciousness and oblivion, that it took you a moment to register what you were feeling. The hot, heavy weight pressing against your thigh. The way it pulsed. The way it grew, thick and insistent, nudging against your skin.
When realization finally hit, a desperate cry tore from your throat.
"You're gonna kill me!" you wailed, your voice cracking, half-sob, half-laugh. Your body trembled against his chest, too weak to even lift yourself off him. "San, please—I can't. I physically cannot—"
San's arms tightened around you, guilt flooding his voice. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry," he murmured into your hair, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. But even as he apologized, his cock twitched harder against your thigh, and his hips shifted involuntarily. "I can't help it. You're so pretty. So fucking pretty, and I just—I love you too much. My baby. My beautiful baby."
From behind you, Wooyoung chuckled. "Bro, you really are gonna kill her. She's already gonna need a wheelchair now."
You let out a weak, broken sound against San's chest. Your thighs ached. Your cunt throbbed, empty and raw. Everything hurt in the best possible way.
But Wooyoung couldn't stop staring. His eyes were fixed on your cunt—still gaping, still twitching, still leaking San's cum in slow, thick rivulets. The sight had him mesmerized, his own cock hard and dripping where he knelt behind you both.
His hands found your calves first. Warm palms slid up slowly, deliberately, tracing the length of your legs until they reached your thighs. His fingers gripped your hips, and he pulled—tilting your hips up, angling your pussy so it was even more on display. The movement made you gasp, your face still pressed against San's chest.
Wooyoung's hands rubbed slow circles on the backs of your thighs, over the curve of your ass. His thumbs inched closer to your core, spreading your thighs apart gently. Your pussy opened wider—swollen, red, leaking. He watched as your hole twitched, a fresh trickle of cum slipping out.
Then he pushed your thighs back together, watching the way your puffy lips pressed against each other, slick and sticky. He reached closer, fingers finding your entrance. His thumbs pulled at your folds, stretching you open again, and your hole gaped—twitching, leaking, clenching around nothing.
"Fuck," Wooyoung whispered, his voice barely audible. His thumbs held you open, watching your cunt pulse and drip. "It's still twitching. Still leaking. San, you really did a number on her."
San groaned beneath you, his cock now fully hard again, pressing insistently against your thigh. His hips rolled slightly, grinding against you. "I told you," he rasped. "She's perfect."
You sobbed quietly into Sans chest, your body trembling, your cunt clenching weakly under Wooyoung's gaze and touch.
