A/N: So sorry this update took so long, but I'm finally done with the semester and am home free for the summer. This chapter has some mature themes, but nothing explicit yet. This chapter has a decent amount of filler; the reader will be in the Pitt in the next chapter. I'm gonna attempt to update weekly while I can.
Word count: ~4,680 (it kinda got away from me lol)
(Most future chapters will be closer to 3,000 words, I know over 4,000 is a commitment for one sitting)
Warning: Food, mentions of past cheating, and unspecified threats of violence, suggestive dialog (Jack calls the reader a good girl twice). (Let me know if I missed anything. This took over an hour to format/edit. I'm craving sleep.)
Your breath caught in your throat as you made eye contact with your soulmates. You found yourself looking up automatically, before the door was even fully pulled back, like your body knew. Like this was the final puzzle piece sliding into place to fill the void you had long been ignoring. Your eyes darted between them, lagging to take everything in. They both had lovely brown eyes. The shorter of the two had firm, dark brown eyes; they were steady and made you feel secure. He looked like he had just gotten out of bed in a rush. He was supporting himself on forearm crutches, wearing a pair of shorts and slides, a t-shirt thrown over his shoulder. You felt your face warm as you took in his toned bare chest. The glare of his dog tags was a blessed distraction. His hair was still flattened on one side, red creases still present on his face from the imprint of his pillow.
He had to have been the string across the Atlantic. The one who almost died.
Glancing higher, you were met with soft brown eyes; the kind that makes you feel warmth. There was another emotion there, one you couldn’t put words to, at least not yet. He was dressed in scrubs, with a lightweight hoodie on over them, a gold chain peeking out of his shirt collar. Your eyes locked on an ID badge still clipped to him. He was a doctor, a doctor at the same hospital that had hired you, PMTC. Somehow, that information had grounded you, pulling you out of the initial shock of your strings forming a glowing triangle.
“Um, hi?” you said hesitantly, trying not to immediately embarrass yourself, your face already warming under their combined gaze. Fuck, you knew you’d find your soulmates attractive, people rarely didn’t, but at a glance they were the definition of your type. From the stubble and grey curls of the veteran to the slight greying of the beard on the doctor, and his size compared to yours. It all, it all made you feel something. You tried to ignore the spark in your core from being near them. While it was perfectly normal for a soulmate greeting, it still made you feel a rush of embarrassment on the back of your neck.
“Hey,” the doctor exhaled, like a weight had been lifted off his chest. He gazes down at you with a warm smile, misty-eyed. His smile lines and crow’s feet widened your smile. You had always found creases that represented a life lived beautiful. When you glanced to your left, the soldier was already looking at you, seemingly done sizing you up.
“I’m Jack,” he quipped before nodding to his left, “He’s Robby.”
It took you a second to process what he was saying, too caught up trying to quell your nerves. You quickly supplied your name, stumbling through it.
There was a beat of silence before your anxiety spiked again.
“Do you want to come in?” You asked, always a nervous talker. You stepped aside; they glanced at each other fleetingly before moving into your apartment.
“Sorry about the mess, I’ve only been in the city for-”
“Three hours?” The doctor, no, Robby supplied. “I noticed Jack and your strings overlapped at around 3ish.”
“Is that why you got off your shift on time?” Jack asked, quirking a brow.
“Yeah, but I was discreet, no one noticed outside of Dana,” Robby replied.
“You mean Dana was the only one to call you out?” Jack said, telling more than asking.
“I-Yeah, no that,” he sighed, running a hand down his face and took a breath, “That’s probably more accurate,”
“What department do you work in?” you asked.
“We both work in the emergency department.” Jack answered, “Attendings.”
You nodded, trying to school your face, as you debated if it was a good idea to tell them now that you’d be in the same hospital for work. You knew as soon as you told them your occupation that it’d click anyway. Their hospital was the closest to this apartment building, and this apartment building was the most affordable option in the immediate vicinity.
“What do you do for work?” Robby asked, segueing away from what, based on their tone, seemed to be a touchy subject.
“Oh, I’m an art therapist.” You answered, “I actually start PMTC on Monday.”
They shared a look that you couldn’t quite nail down. Hopefully it wasn’t anything bad.
“What department will you work in?” Jack asked.
“From what was explained to me, I would be flexing in different departments based on patient needs. Primarily, I’d be in the behavioral unit, inpatient rehabilitation, and pediatrics.” You answered. “While I start on Monday, I’m actually going to be going in tomorrow to get a tour and orientation so that I can hit the ground running on my first official day.”
“Okay,” Jack said, Robby and Jack shared another look, before letting out a breath/sigh. Normally, you wouldn’t pry, but the combination of your nervous mouth and quick observations had you blurting out your conclusion before entirely thinking it through.
“They don’t know about you two being soulmates, do they?” You asked. They shared yet another look, “Okay, you two need to knock it off with the looks.” You sighed, slightly frustrated, “I know we literally just met, and you don’t know me, but I’m not one to judge. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me into what’s going on so we can form a plan and set healthy boundaries.”
“Okay,” Robby replied, while Jack just nodded. Despite your age gap, it seemed like you were on equal footing, that being you were all equally at a loss.
“Are either of you hungry?” You offered, hoping that a mild distraction would help make the talk go smoother.
“Have you already gone shopping?” Robby asked, confused.
“Oh, no, I just got way too much Thai takeout. I actually got so much to justify not going shopping til I’m unpacked.” You confessed with a laugh. Robby smiled in return, while Jack’s lip twitched, like he wasn’t all the way there yet to commit to fully taking off his mask. You smiled despite that. If your career had taught you anything, it was not to rush it. You could meet him where he’s at, at least for now. They both followed to the kitchen, not straying farther than an arm’s length away. You made quick work of unpacking the food. You were happy you got a soda and water bottles on the side to make packing it tomorrow easier. You heard a faint huff of a laugh behind you as you pulled out the third entrée.
“What?” you asked, giving Jack side-eye,
“Nothing, I just didn’t figure that you’d be feeding yourself and a small army.” He said, a smirk pulling at his lips.
“I may have been a little hungry when I was ordering.” You admitted pulling out an appetizer of dumplings and finally some Thai spring rolls, causing both of them to laugh, “Okay, maybe very hungry.” You said in your defense.
“I can see that,” Jack replied, smirk now fully present.
“Shut up,” you said, before he could comment as you pulled out five sets of plastic cutlery.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he answered, teasingly causing you to now be the flustered one.
“Are you ever gonna put on your shirt?” you said, trying to segue into something less embarrassing.
“Are you?” he shot back, causing you to pause and look down at your outfit.
“I’m wearing a shirt,” you said with a quirked brow, gesturing down at your crop top.
“Yeah, but it’s missing the other 60%,” he responded, taking a seat at your kitchen table, before sliding his shirt on.
You jokingly over dramatically rolled your eyes, before tossing him a water bottle and making a plate for him that he dictated from his spot, leaning his crutches against the table.
“Did you build all of this?” Robby asked, gesturing to your couch, coffee table, and TV.
“Oh, no, I just used a handyman that my friend Cleo knows. He was like half the rate of the guy the building manager suggested. Technically, my move-in date was last weekend, so he was able to assemble all the furniture over the past week, and he also helped me set up the TV and Wi-Fi. Which I’m grateful for because I’m terrible when it comes to tech stuff.” You answered, settling up next to Jack at the table.
“And all the plastic boxes?” Jack asked as Robby sat down across the table from you.
“Oh, since I was moving across the state from Philly, I hired movers. They use reusable boxes as a motivator to unpack everything. You pay a flat rate for two weeks, and then there’s a fine that gets added for every day you’re over. Which I definitely need. I was still finding boxes from the last time I moved when I was packing my apartment up.” You answered.
“Next time we move, you’re in charge,” Robby declared, before taking a large bite of one of the spring rolls. Only to stop mid-bite after realizing the implications of what he just said.
“I-I mean-” he tries to get out around the large bite, causing you to laugh.
“It’s okay, I know what you meant,” you said with a light smile. Jack bumps his shoulder into yours, drawing your attention.
“Next time let him sweat more,” Jack comments with a smirk, “He’s pretty when he blushes.”
“He could’ve choked,” you pointed out as Robby finally swallows his bite and takes a large swig of water.
“Never said he wouldn’t,” Jack paused to take a sip of his own water, “but for the record, he’s equally pretty when he chokes. You’ll never hear me complain about the sounds he makes.”
Robby choked on his water at the implication, causing a whine to pull from his throat, before he started coughing. Jack’s smirk widened. Your face heats up at how casual Jack is with it, especially considering they weren’t even out at work. But then again, you are their soulmate. Normally, you were apprehensive when men cop an attitude like that; it almost always felt like they were overcompensating. But Jack felt different, his personal brand of cockiness seemed earned; like he could back up his smugness in an instant. You wish he’d reel it in, though, as a flourish of warmth sparked in your core. It didn’t help that you were practically touching, to the point that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You cleared your throat and took a beat to build up the courage to continue your talk, heart palpitating.
“So, does anyone else you know aware that you’re romantic soulmates?” you asked.
“Only Dana and Jack’s therapist,” Robby said, glancing at Jack for confirmation. he nodded in response.
“Whose Dana?” you asked.
“She’s the charge nurse on day shifts.” Robby started, “She’s also our friend, but even if she wasn’t, she’s smart enough to figure it out.”
“Do you both work day shifts?” you asked.
“No, I’m on nights. I just have today off, normally I’m Robby’s relief.” Jack replied.
“Is that on purpose to keep up appearances?” you asked.
“It doesn’t hurt, but I’ve always preferred nights, and he prefers days. If there’s short staffing or an emergency, we normally work together.” Jack explained, and you nodded as you took another bite, trying to process everything to set up the best system. While you still yearned to be close to them, to the extent that Robby across the table from you felt too far, you didn’t want them to out themselves at work if they weren’t ready.
“So, if I’m ever in the emergency department, I should act like I don’t know either of you?” you asked, causing a silent pause to wash over the table. This time, you let go of them, glancing at each other before responding. It was a loaded question. You shifted nervously in your seat at the lack of response, before giving them reassurance.
“I’m okay with it for now if that’s what you’re worried about.” You said, “I just met both of you, but I know the dynamics of working in an environment like an emergency department is crucial to best serve people. Throwing off that rhythm can cost lives. I just want us to nail down a plan now so we’re all on the same page.”
“Jesus,” Robby exhales the breath, a look of admiration on his face as he meets your eyes, “How are you only 33?”
You tilt your head slightly, confusion clear on your face. Prompting Robby to continue.
“I could never dream of being that emotionally intelligent at your age,” he clarified, “Fuck, not to date myself, but with a 13-year head start I only pull that off half the time.”
Jack hummed in agreement, a small absent-minded smile gracing his lips when he looked at you.
“How do you know how old I am?” you asked, confused.
“That’s when the second sting appeared,” Robby answered, before continuing, “I was at temple for Yom Kippur, September 18th, 1991. It felt fitting on the day of atonement to receive another motivation to better myself.”
“It was a Wednesday, around 3, I had just been dismissed from school for the day and was in the locker room changing for football practice. When I held my helmet in my hands, I only had one string, and then after putting it on and adjusting it, I had two.” Jack added, mirroring Robby’s look.
“Oh,” you answered, slightly embarrassed. Of course, since you were the youngest, the strings have always been there for you.
“I’m only two years older than Jack, so I don’t remember a time when his string wasn’t there.” Robby explained, “It makes sense for you not to think about that if they’ve always been standard for you.”
Jack nodded in agreement, but that didn’t help the heart palpitations from your nervousness.
“So,” you said, attempting to get the conversation back on track, “We’re going with the plan that we act like we don’t know each other?”
“Maybe we can go with that, you’re our new neighbor?” Jack said, “It’d be an easy excuse if we wanted to walk you home, or why we know you at a base level.”
“Do they know you two moved in together?” You asked, curious about what was and was not known to the ED.
“They think we just moved in together since we have opposite schedules to save on rent,” Robby explained.
“Oh, so you have two bedrooms set up?” you asked, knowing that your one bedroom on the corner of the building was cheaper than other units.
“Yeah, don’t use it, but it’s there.” Jack nodded.
“Okay.” You nodded to yourself, “So no soulmate talk, other than to Dana if she asks?”
“Yeah,” Robby said. Jack nodded in agreement.
“K, outside of my brother Ben, and my friend Cleo, no one I currently know knows I have 2-strings. My parents ingrained it in me to only say I have 1.” You added.
“You have a brother?” Robby asked.
“Yeah, he’s my twin. He lives in London with my brother-in-law Dante, and their five-month-old son named Atlas.” You clarified. “Do either of you have siblings?”
“No,” Jack answered, before adding, “We both aren’t close to either of our remaining family members.
“I am close with my ex-girlfriend’s son, Jake. Her name is Janey. While we were dating, Jake and I got close to the extent that we agreed it’d be detrimental to him to cut me out when we split. He’s not close with his bio-dad.”
“Oh, so you filled that role?” you asked, with a smile. Robby found himself also smiling in return. Your tone was neutral and judgment-free, and you genuinely wanted to learn about him. Despite the importance of your conversation, talking to you was easy. He knew you were soulmates, but your warmth filled a part of him he wasn’t aware he needed. It was like his heart had expanded more to now be fully filled with the love blossoming in his chest. He hadn’t felt this sensation since meeting Jack. He was only pulled back to reality by the tilt of your head, waiting for a response.
“Y-yeah, I guess I did.” He nodded bashfully. Your smile widened at the blush developing on his face. Jack was right, he was pretty when he blushed.
“Jake’s a good kid,” Jack added. Your heart rate sped up again as he rested his arm on the back of your chair. Not touching, but close enough to satisfy the urge to hold you.
“Are you close with any family outside of Ben?” Jack asked.
“Oh, no, actually Ben and I went no contact almost a decade ago with our parents. They weren’t on board with his ‘lifestyle choices’; they blamed Dante for putting ideas in his head.” You sighed.
“That’s terrible, at least you had each other,” Robby said. Jack nodded, his jaw clenched and unclenched.
“I mean, yeah, it did at first, but in retrospect, we had been dealing with our parents’ discriminatory mindset our whole lives. It was just time to move on. The fucked-up part is that our parents actually expected me to be on their side.” You started, “I mean, I shared an egg with the guy, how could I not love him unconditionally?”
“You shared an egg with him?” Robby asked, confusion clear in his voice as he attempted to process what you were saying.
“Yeah, we’re identical twins.” You clarified, “Ben’s trans.”
A look of realization flashed on both of their faces at your omission.
“So, your parents weren’t okay with him being trans?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, they never cared about our soulmate(s) gender, you can’t control that. But they did believe that Ben being trans was his choice.” You explained, taking a deep breath to quell the negative emotions that began to well up inside you. You were jerked out of your headspace when Robby lightly gripped your hand and began to rub his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. A small smile graced your lips.
“Ben doesn’t care whether or not people know he’s trans. His biggest goal in life was to become a dad. He sacrificed a lot to achieve that. He had some fertility issues, which in turn meant putting off his own comfort of being able to transition. Atlas is the only reason he hasn’t medically transitioned yet. He’s waiting until he’s done weaning to take that step.” You explained.
“He’s lucky he has a sister like you,” Jack said, leaning his weight against your chair, face inches away from yours. Warmth filled your chest at his opinion.
“I think it’s the opposite, you can thank him for giving me the push to move across the state." You spoke.
“Was that the only reason you moved?” Robby asked.
“There were a few factors. I had a bad breakup twoish months ago, but I’ve wanted to get out of the city for longer. I applied for jobs across the northeast; I was actually between a job here and in Boston. I only ended up here because my friend Cleo lives here.” You explained.
“How bad was the breakup?” Jack asked.
“Pretty bad. She had been cheating on me for the majority of our close to two-year relationship, before I caught her and her ‘platonic’ soulmate in the act. Apparently, that’s just a fucked-up routine they have to ‘spice up’ their sex life. On top of that, she rubbed salt in the wound by saying she was only with me out of pity, because I was too old not to have found my soulmate yet.” You answered. Robby’s grip tightened in your hand, and Jack had inadvertently pulled your chair closer, knuckles white from his grip on your chair.
“And what was her name?” Jack asked.
“And address,” Robby tacked on.
“Social security wouldn’t hurt,” Jack said, jaw clenched.
You began to smile thinking they were joking around, until making eye contact with Robby he looked pissed. Your smile dropped.
Oh, they were serious.
“As much as I appreciate the gesture. I’m more of a forgive-but-remember kind of person. I was just happy I found out before I moved in with her.” You started, “I was also glad Ben was in England, he’s always been overprotective. I just want to be done with it, hence moving here.”
Neither of them seemed satisfied with your dismissal.
“When did you guys move in?” you asked, trying to dodge another bomb in this minefield of a conversation.
“Last weekend,” Robby answered, in an attempted neutral tone, his anger still shining through.
“Are you still in the unpacking phase?” you asked.
“No,” a ghost of a smile on Robby’s face, “took Jack two days to build and organize everything. We’re so efficient that we even had our first argument since moving in.”
“What was it about?” you asked.
“Apparently, I can’t fold clothing,” Robby replied.
“I never said you couldn’t fold clothing. Your attempt at crumpling a t-shirt into a ball was spot on.” Jack responded, and Robby rolled his eyes at him.
“You told me to ranger roll it, and it was a ball. I completed the task.” Robby argued.
“What’s a ranger roll?” you asked.
“It’s a folding technique so the clothing takes up the least amount of space. It’s how I fold clothing for my work bag.” Jack explained, “I use the pinch technique for my clothing going into the dresser.”
“What is a pinch technique?” you asked at a loss.
“Exactly,” Robby said exasperated.
“If you get me a shirt, I can show you,” Jack replied.
“K,” you said, standing up, “Do you want a full shirt or a 40%-er”
A small laugh escaped Jack. “Surprise me.”
You walked to your bedroom, unaware of the two sets of eyes locked on you.
“Fuck,” Robby exhaled.
“She’s better than anything I could have dreamt up,” Jack agreed, “She might be too nice though.”
Robby hummed in agreement. Their quick assessment mirrors their speed and accuracy at work.
“We’ll have to keep an eye on that. I don’t know what I’d do if someone tried to take advantage of her.” Jack said, clenching and unclenching his fist.
“I think we both know what would happen if her ex were here,” Robby commented as you reemerged from your bedroom.
“Agreed,” Jack said, turning to face you. You tossed him an oversized T-shirt. He quirked at the size.
“It’s a sleep shirt,” you answered the unasked question.
“So, your shirts are either normal, 150% too big, or only 40% there?” Jack asked.
“For the most part, I got a few that are less than 15%, but they’re just for going out.” You joked. You laughed at Jack's ‘Are you serious’ face.
“So, how do you do a pinch technique?” you asked. You watched him do it a few times before getting it down. You took a seat as Robby attempted and failed to fold the shirt right.
“Is this what older people do for fun?” you joked. Robby immediately dropped the shirt in a heap, ironically his best attempt yet, before snapping his head up.
“Oh, sweetheart, I know you did not just call us old,” Robby said.
“I know you didn’t call me old.” Jack tacked on, while his tone was stern, he had an amused look in his eyes.
“And if I did?” you asked, teasingly.
“I can think of a few ways we could address it; Jack’s got no patience for brats,” Robby said, straightening up from his leaning position over the table.
“Probably let you off with a warning,” Jack started, smug look returning, “Wouldn’t want a good girl like you to be punished while figuring out your boundaries.”
You bit your inner cheek, trying your hardest to school your face, and not give away the warmth rushing to your face. You weren’t sure if it was just being called a good girl or Jack’s tone, but you could feel the spark in your core returning. Before you could respond, a yawn cut through you. Your eyes widened as you took in the time; what had felt like only minutes with your soulmates had been hours.
“Tired?” Robby asked.
“A bit,” you replied sheepishly, covering your mouth as you let out another yawn.
“When do you go in tomorrow?" Jack asked.
“I’m expected at 0700, I was planning on heading out around 0615 in case I get lost.” You explained.
“I can walk you in if you want. Unless I’m called in earlier, I normally start at 0700 too.” Robby offered.
“That’d be great,” you smiled, fatigue from your cross-state drive finally catching up with you, your eyes beginning to droop.
“Not to be presumptuous, but would you like to sleep over at ours?” Robby asked. You waited for a beat as you internally argued whether it’d be too clingy to want that.
“If it’s okay with both of you, I’d love that,” you replied.
“Of course that’s okay, fuck I think we’d both prefer it,” Robby said, glancing at Jack, who nodded.
“I don’t think I’d be able to sleep without having eyes on you,” Jack answered honestly.
“K, I’m just gonna brush my teeth and change clothing.” You said, pushing yourself back from the table. In what felt like seconds, you found yourself standing pensively at the foot of their king-sized bed. Jack was finishing up his nightly routine when you entered the bedroom. Would it be too presumptuous to think you were sharing the bed? Did they want something more, or were you just going to sleep? Before you could fully spiral, Robby interrupted your internal argument.
“Com’ere,” he said, pulling back the covers, “Do you have a side you prefer sleeping on?”
“Um, would it-would it be okay if I were in the middle?” you asked, looking up at Robby. His brown eyes softened, and a smile bloomed on his face.
“Of course, Honey.” He answered, fully folding back the covers so you could slip in. While you were getting situated, Robby stripped down to his boxers and passed Jack as he disappeared into their bathroom. Jack greeted you with a soft smile as he sat down and leaned his crutches in a nook between the bed and his bedside table. He slipped out of his shirt before maneuvering himself under the covers to face you.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his minty breath washing over your face. You nodded in response.
“Baby, when I ask you a question, I want a verbal answer.” He said gently, but firmly.
“Um, yeah,” you nodded, you could feel his eyes rake over you.
“Are you sure?” he asked again, and you broke eye contact.
“Could we cuddle?” you asked nervously. Jack gently cupped your face, forcing eye contact.
“Of course we can cuddle,” he said with a small smile, before pecking your forehead. Still flustered by the whole conversation, you rolled over facing Robby’s side. Jack’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back flush against his warm chest.
“Is this alright?” he asked into your ear. His hot breath fanned out onto the back of your neck. You contained a shiver, before nodding your head.
“Yeah,” you answered quickly, forgetting about the expectation he had just told you.
“Good girl,” he whispered into your ear. Causing your breath to hitch, face heating up once more, these men would be the death of you. A smile spread across Robby’s face when he took you and Jack in as he circled around to his side and slid under the covers.
“Is this okay?” he asked, front flush with yours, one of his long arms wrapped around Jack’s waist behind you.
“Yeah,” you replied quietly. You hid your face in his chest, not to give away how okay you were with it.
A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read ^-^
Very excited to write about the reader's first time in the Pitt in the next chapter. I'm hyped for them to meet Dana. Hope you're doing well wherever you're at 💛
I will have a master list for this blog made tomorrow, I just need to sleep first lol
ENCORE is a four-part anthology centered around different ATEEZ pairings in the same post-concert universe. Each story can be read on its own, but together they explore different relationships, dynamics, and emotions after the lights go down and the encore is over.
Part 1: WooSan (formerly the SAN’S LOVE series ) chapter one here
The air in the hotel room was thick, heavy with the scent of sweat and raw desperation. Post-concert adrenaline still thrummed through San's veins, and every ounce of that energy was focused entirely on you. His muscular frame pinned you against the mattress, his weight crushing you into the sheets as his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. There was nothing gentle about him in this headspace—he was a man of overwhelming passion, and right now, that passion was about breaking you down until you were nothing but a shaking, sobbing mess of pleasure. "I want you to feel everything," he growled, his voice a low, guttural rasp that sent shivers down your spine. "I want you so overwhelmed that you can't even remember your own name." He drove into you with a brutal, rhythmic intensity that left no room for thought. There was no pacing here—only a relentless, raw assault. Every thrust was deep, bottoming out with a heavy thwack of his hips against your ass. he wanted to feel every ridge of his cock sliding against your walls, and he wanted you to feel the heat of him filling you completely. The bare drag of him inside you was intoxicating, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. His fingers dug into your hips, leaving red marks that mirrored the intensity of his gaze. he was claiming you, marking you from the inside out. The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room, obscene and perfect. "Please... San, please, I can't—" you sobbed, your head tossing from side to side as the pleasure became too much. "You can," he panted, leaning down to bite your shoulder. His teeth sank in just enough to make you gasp, the sharp sting mixing with the overwhelming pleasure of his cock pounding into you. "Take it. Take all of it." To ensure you stayed on the edge of a breakdown, San focused on overstimulating you. While he hammered into you, his hand clamped firmly over your clit, his thumb grinding in fast, erratic circles. The combination of the deep, internal friction and the sharp, constant stimulation on your nub was too much. Your breath hitched, turning into high-pitched, broken whimpers as your body trembled beneath him. "You're so fucking wet," he groaned against your skin, his breath hot on the bite mark he'd just left. "Feel how deep I am? Feel how good I'm fucking you?" You could only nod frantically, your fingers clutching at the sheets as your walls clenched around him. The pressure was building, coiling tight in your belly, and you knew you were close. "That's it," he growled, his thrusts becoming even harder, more punishing. "Come for me. Come on my cock."
His thumb pressed harder against your clit, grinding in tight circles that sent you spiraling. Your back arched off the mattress as the orgasm crashed through you, your walls clamping down on his cock as you screamed his name. But he didn't stop—he kept fucking you through it, his hips slamming against yours with relentless force. "Too much—San, please—" you sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks as the pleasure became almost painful. "Take it," he repeated, his voice rough with his own approaching release. "Take every fucking inch." His teeth found your shoulder again, biting down harder this time as he drove into you one final time. You felt his cock twitch inside you, felt the hot rush of his cum filling you up as he groaned against your skin. The sensation pushed you over the edge again, another orgasm ripping through you as your body shook beneath him. For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart. San's weight was still pressing you into the mattress, his cock softening inside you as he pressed soft kisses to the bite mark on your shoulder. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now but still carrying that edge of dominance. "You took it so well." You could only whimper in response, your body completely spent beneath him. The room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and you knew you'd be feeling the marks he'd left for days. He stayed there for a moment, both of you trembling. Then he slowly slid out, the wet suctioning sound echoing in the quiet room. But he didn't let you recover. San gripped your ankles and shoved your legs up, folding them back until your knees pressed against your chest. The position exposed your trembling, wet entrance and the creamy overflow of his cum leaking from you. He stared at your thighs—thick, soft, flushed deep pink from the friction of his body. "Beautiful," he murmured. He moved down, his tongue licking a long, wet stripe, cleaning the overflow of his cum from your weeping pussy. The sensation made you jerk, a desperate cry escaping your lips. Then his mouth closed over your overly sensitive clit in an open-mouthed kiss full of love. Your hips bucked, another sob tearing from your throat. "San, please—too much—" He pulled back, moving to your thighs. His mouth spread the mixture of his cum and saliva across your flushed skin, painting you with it. Then he positioned himself, sliding his cock between your thighs, pressing firmly into the crease where they met.The friction of your thighs acting as a tight, warm sleeve was intoxicating. He grunted, his hips snapping forward as he ground himself against you. The slickness of his cum and your juices acted as lubricant. His hands gripped your calves, pulling you tighter, creating a suffocatingly tight pressure.
"You're so soft," he whispered, his voice shaking. "So fucking perfect." He continued to fuck your thighs, the raw skin-on-skin contact creating a searing heat. He chased a second peak, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rubbed himself raw against you. His hips snapped forward again and again, his cock sliding between your thighs, the head poking out against your slick folds with each thrust. You watched him through tear-blurred eyes, his face contorted with pleasure, his muscles straining. He was beautiful like this—unhinged, desperate, using you for his pleasure.He didn't stop until he was completely spent, his forehead resting against your calf, his chest heaving. A second load of cum splashed across your thighs and lower tummy, hot and thick, mixing with the mess already there. Eventually, the intensity faded. San's protective nature rushed back in like a tide. He gently unfolded your legs, wincing at the red marks his grip had left on your calves. Then he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you. He began to kiss the tears from your cheeks, his voice returning to that sweet, devoted tone. "I've got you," he murmured against your temple. "I've got you, baby. You did so well."His lips brushed over the bite mark on your shoulder, then the bruises on your hips. Each touch was feather-light now, reverent. His fingers traced patterns on your sides as he held you close. You nestled deeper into his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow beneath your cheek. The room still smelled of sex and sweat, but wrapped in his arms, you felt safe. Protected. His. "Stay with me," he murmured into your hair. "Just like this." You pressed your lips against his collarbone, barely able to form words through your swollen throat. "I love you" you whispered, your voice barely audible. His arms tightened around you, and you felt the rumble of a groan vibrate through his chest. He was still hot against your stomach—his cock, even soft, heavy and warm, resting against your skin. You could feel the dampness of his cum still coating both of you, the slick mess between your bodies a testament to everything he'd done to you. Then you felt it. The twitch. The subtle thickening of his shaft against your belly.San's breath hitched. His hips shifted involuntarily, pressing himself harder against your stomach, and you felt him growing—slowly, steadily, his cock filling with heat and weight again. "I love you so much, baby," he mumbled into your hair, his voice cracking. His hands were shaking as they slid down your back, gripping your waist like he was afraid you'd disappear. "I'm so sorry. You're just—you're too pretty. So good for me. I can't—" He swallowed hard, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "I can't help myself. Fuck, I can't stop. I love you." He was a mumbling mess, this powerful man reduced to desperate apologies while his body betrayed him completely. His cock was fully hard again, pressing insistently against your stomach, hot and demanding. Before you could respond, his hands shot to your hips. His fingers dug in with that bruising grip you knew too well, and with one powerful motion, he flipped you over. You landed face-down on the mattress with a gasp, your chest pressed into the tangled sheets, your ass tilted up in a vulnerable, inviting arch. He didn't go back inside you. Not yet. Instead, he positioned himself behind you, his heavy heat radiating against your skin. You felt the thick length of his cock slide between your thighs, but this time he pushed further—wedging himself directly between the crease of your ass and the outer lips of your pussy.
The sensation was agonizingly precise. He wasn't filling you, but he was rubbing his thick, slick shaft right against the most sensitive folds of your heat, using the pressure of your own thighs to pin himself against you. Every time he thrust forward, the head of his cock glided over your swollen clit and slid deep into the valley between your lips and ass, creating a friction that made your vision blur. "Look at you," he panted, his voice thick with lust. "shaking and so wet for me." He began to grind in a rhythmic, punishing circle, the friction of his cock dragging against your overstimulated nerves sending jolts of electricity straight to your brain. You were already raw, already on the verge of another collapse, and this targeted stimulation was pushing you over the edge. You let out a broken, high-pitched keen, your fingers clawing at the sheets as you tried to push back against him, desperate for the release he was teasing you with. Then his arm slid under your neck. San locked you in a firm, possessive headlock, pulling your head back against his shoulder. Your spine arched, your throat and chest exposed, your body pinned completely under his weight. The position made you feel small—utterly owned. Overwhelmed by the sensation of being trapped, you acted on instinct. You opened your mouth and sank your teeth deep into the hard muscle of his bicep claiming him.San let out a guttural, strangled groan, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he tightened the headlock, his grip bruising and possessive. "Yes," he growled into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Mark me. Bite me harder. Let everyone know who I belong to and exactly who owns me.” He increased the pace of his grinding, his cock sliding frantically against your slick pussy. The combination of the restraint, the pain he was clearly enjoying, and the relentless friction on your clit sent you spiraling. You bit down harder on his arm, tasting copper on your tongue, your body convulsing in a violent, overstimulated orgasm that ripped through you like a storm. You sobbed into his arm, your muscles seizing around nothing—around the void where he wasn't quite inside you but was touching every single nerve ending. San continued to grind against you even as you peaked, forcing you to ride the wave of pleasure long after it should have ended, keeping you in a state of pure, raw sensory overload until he finally let out a loud, triumphant shout. His cock pulsed against you, and hot, thick cum splashed across the backs of your thighs and the crack of your ass, painting you in his seed. He shuddered behind you, his hips jerking through the aftershocks, his arm still locked around your neck. "Mine," he rasped against your ear. "All fucking mine." San's arm loosened around your neck, and the moment the pressure released, your entire body crumpled. You collapsed flat against the mattress, face-down, limbs spread in a boneless, defeated sprawl. The sheets were damp beneath your cheek—sweat, tears, the slick evidence of everything he'd done to you. Your lungs burned with every ragged breath, each exhale a shaky, broken sound that barely qualified as breathing anymore.
Behind you, San's weight settled heavy on your thighs. You could feel his ass pressing against the backs of your legs, pinning you down. His chest heaved, deep, gulping breaths that matched your own. The room was silent except for the crude symphony of your shared panting and the wet sound of his cum still dripping between your thighs. He didn't speak. Not yet. You lay there, face pressed into the sheets, unable to move even if you wanted to. Every nerve ending was fried. Your thighs trembled with tiny, uncontrollable spasms, and your cunt—poor, ruined, overstimulated cunt—was still twitching, clenching around nothing, desperate for something to grip even though it had been pushed far past any reasonable limit. San's eyes roamed over you from behind, and you could feel his gaze like a physical touch—hot, heavy, and deliberate. He was looking at his work. Your ass and the backs of your thighs were painted in thick, white streaks of his cum, the viscous fluid slowly dripping down the crack of your ass and pooling against the sheets beneath you. The skin of your lower back was splattered with it, a chaotic masterpiece of his release. The back of your neck was raw and red from the pressure of his arm, dotted with dark purple splotches where his mouth had sucked and bitten at the sensitive skin. Your thighs were bright, angry red—chafed and flushed from the relentless friction of his hips driving against you. And your cunt. Your poor, twitching, swollen cunt, glistening with your own slick and his cum, still spasming with aftershocks. The lips were puffy and red, abused and overstimulated, clenching weakly around nothing. San stared at it. At you. At the mess he'd made of you. His brain turned to mush. "Fuck," he breathed, the word barely a whisper. His hand trembled as it reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over the curve of your ass. The touch was feather-soft, a stark contrast to the brutal grip he'd had on you moments ago. His fingertips traced down through the slick mess of cum coating your skin, spreading it slowly, almost reverently, over the reddened flesh. "You're so pretty," he murmured, his voice thick and dazed. His fingers drifted lower, sliding between your thighs with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. He stroked along your slick, swollen folds—barely touching, just feeling the heat of you, the raw, abused softness of your cunt still twitching under his fingertips. You whimpered into the sheets, your hips jerking weakly at even that featherlight touch. You were so overstimulated that even the brush of his fingertips sent sparks through your nerves. "Shh," he soothed, his voice low and hoarse. He didn't stop touching you. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles around your entrance, gathering the mixture of his cum and your slick, spreading it over your puffy, sensitive lips. "Look at you. All fucked out. All mine." He leaned forward, his heavy body draping over your thighs, and you felt the hot rush of his breath against the back of your neck. His lips brushed over the reddened skin there. "So good," he mumbled against your skin, his voice cracking. "So fucking good for me. Took everything I gave you." His fingers continued their slow, gentle exploration of your ruined cunt, stroking through the mess of cum and slick with a possessive tenderness that made your chest ache. "Pretty little thing. All mine. All fucking mine." You lay there, trembling, tears still leaking from the corners of your eyes into the sheets, your body completely surrendered to his touch. You couldn't move. Couldn't think. Could only lie there and let him admire what he'd done to you. Your cunt was exposed between your thighs, swollen and slick, twitching helplessly in the aftermath of everything he'd done to you. Each involuntary spasm made your entrance clench around nothing, your walls still contracting from the orgasms he'd ripped from you.
The sight of it—your poor, abused little cunt, still fluttering, still responding to him even when you had nothing left to give—made something in his brain short-circuit. You heard him exhale sharply through his nose. His hips shifted against your thighs, and you felt him twitch. Again. Already. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, his voice thick and strained. His fingers traced the edge of your swollen folds, barely touching, just feeling the heat and the wetness there. "Look at you. Still twitching for me." You tried to respond, but your throat was raw. All that came out was a broken, breathless sound—half sob, half moan. San's weight shifted again. His hips pressed down, his cock sliding slowly, deliberately, along the length of your ass. He wasn't hard again—not yet—but he was getting there. The thick, heavy length of him dragged across your marked skin, grinding lazily against the mess of cum and sweat and your own arousal. He was savoring it. Savoring you. His hands gripped your hips, thumbs pressing into the bruises already forming there, and he rolled his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. The friction of his cock against your raw, overstimulated body made you gasp, your fingers curling weakly into the sheets. "Can't stop," he breathed, his voice distant, almost like he was talking to himself. His eyes were fixed on the sight of his cock sliding through the mess between your thighs, watching your cunt twitch and clench with every pass. "Look at this pretty little cunt. Still crying for me. Still so fucking hungry." His thumb brushed over your entrance, feather-light, and your whole body jolted like you'd been struck. He groaned behind you, low and deep, his hips never stopping their slow, grinding rhythm. "I can't—I really, I really can't—" you sobbed, the words breaking apart in your throat. Your fingers clawed weakly at the sheets, body jerking beneath him in uncontrollable spasms. Every nerve ending in your cunt was raw, exposed, screaming. Even the feather-light drag of his cock sliding over your swollen folds was enough to send you convulsing, arching off the mattress in a violent shudder that had nothing to do with pleasure anymore—just pure, overwhelming sensation crashing through you like electricity. San groaned behind you, deep and guttural, watching your body twitch and jerk beneath him. His eyes were glued to your cunt—watching it clench and flutter helplessly around nothing, your slick folds swollen and red, twitching with every involuntary spasm. The sight of you falling apart like this, completely undone by his touch, seemed to edge him on even more. His hips stuttered against you, his cock jumping, dragging through the mess between your thighs. "I know, baby, I know," he breathed, his voice cracking. And there was something almost desperate in it now—something raw and helpless. "But I can't—I can't help it." He was feeling it too.
The overstimulation. His cock was bright red, angry, the skin stretched tight and flushed dark from overuse. Every vein stood out prominently along the thick shaft, and the head was swollen, leaking steadily. It was so sensitive that even the brush of air against it made him hiss through his teeth. Yet it refused to go soft. It kept twitching, filling, hardening against his will—his body betraying him just like yours was betraying you. With a shaky exhale, San lifted himself off your thighs. The absence of his weight made you whimper, your legs spreading wider, trembling. You heard him move—felt the mattress dip—and then the creak of the headboard as he settled against it, sitting heavy with his back pressed to the wood. His legs stretched out beside your head, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. You turned your head, lifting it on trembling arms. Your face was a complete mess—tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, slobber coating your chin, your eyes glassy and unfocused. You blinked hard, trying to clear your vision, and then you saw him. San sat against the headboard, chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. His face was flushed dark red, sweat dripping down his jaw, his hair plastered to his forehead in wet strands. His body was a sight—his chest and abs heaving with adrenaline, skin flushed red all the way down to his lower stomach, every muscle defined and glistening. His stomach was slick, coated in a messy mix of sweat and cum and your arousal, the wetness smearing across his tensed abs. And his cock. You stared at it, unable to look away. It stood proudly against his stomach, thick and heavy, twitching involuntarily every few seconds. The shaft was red and swollen, angry from overuse, the skin stretched tight around the rigid hardness of it. The head was flushed dark, almost purple, plump and leaking. Little beads of pre-cum dripped steadily from the tip, running down the thick length in slow, glistening trails that pooled at the base where his cock met his balls. His balls were heavy, drawn tight, coated in the same slick mess—cum and arousal mixing together and dripping further down to his thighs. His inner thighs were slick with it, the wetness coating his skin, making everything gleam in the low light. He was a mess. Just like you. His hand came up to his face, pressing his palm over his eyes for a moment, and you heard him let out a shaky, broken breath. "Fuck," he whispered, his voice raw. "Look at me. Look at what you do to me." His other hand dropped to his cock, fingers wrapping around the shaft loosely, and he groaned—loud, pained, desperate—at even that minimal contact. His hips jerked upward involuntarily, his cock jumping in his grip, another bead of pre-cum welling up at the tip and spilling over his knuckles. He was aching. Sensitive. Overstimulated. And still so fucking hard it looked like it hurt. His eyes opened, finding yours—tear-streaked, ruined, completely wrecked—and something in his gaze darkened. Hungry. Desperate. "I need more," he breathed, barely audible. "I need you." 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.
Wooyoung couldn't help himself. His face drifted closer, drawn in like gravity itself had shifted. You felt his breath first—warm, steady puffs against your swollen, exposed flesh. He inhaled deep, a slow, deliberate pull through his nose, and the sound was obscene. A shudder ran through your entire body at the realization of what he was doing. He was smelling you. Smelling San's cum mixed with your slick, breathing it in like it was something sacred. "Fuck, you smell incredible," Wooyoung murmured, his lips barely an inch from your cunt. The vibration of his voice traveled straight through your oversensitive folds, and you whimpered into San's chest. Then his tongue found you. No warning. No buildup. Just the sudden, wet, searing heat of Wooyoung's smooth tongue dragging flat and wide from your clit all the way up through your slit, dipping fully into your gaping entrance and scooping upward to your hole. One long, thick stripe that collected every drop of the mess leaking out of you. Your entire body jolted like you'd been electrocuted. "No—fuck—Wooyoung—" you shrieked, your voice breaking into a high, desperate pitch. Your hands flew to San's chest, fingers clawing, nails digging in hard as you tried to drag yourself up, away from that devastating mouth. Your legs kicked weakly, thighs trembling violently as you scrambled, but Wooyoung's hands clamped down on your hips like iron shackles, holding you exactly where he wanted you. It was pathetic, really—your attempt at escape. You had nothing left. No strength, no coordination, just a shaking, sobbing mess trying to crawl up San's body while Wooyoung held you firmly in place, his tongue still lapping greedily at your cunt. Your nails raked across San's chest, leaving angry red welts. San hissed, his back arching off the mattress, hips jerking upward so hard his cock slapped against his stomach. "Fuck—baby, your nails—" he groaned, but the sound was pure pleasure wrapped in pain. His hands found your waist, not pushing you away but pulling you tighter against him, His hips pistoning against empty air. Three moans filled the room simultaneously—San's deep and guttural from the sting of your nails, Wooyoung's muffled and hungry against your pussy, and yours, broken and wrecked, nothing but raw overstimulation tearing through every nerve ending. Wooyoung pulled back just enough to swallow, his throat working visibly, then dove back in. His tongue was thick and coated, dripping with the mixture he'd scooped out of you. He flicked the tip against your clit—just once, just a little—and your vision went white. A scream ripped from your throat, muffled against San's pecs. Then his tongue traveled back down, fast and deliberate, and pushed directly into your hole. Not teasing. Not tentative. He pressed in deep, the thick muscle curling and scooping, trying to dig out every last trace of San's cum that still clung inside your walls. His lips sealed around your entrance, sucking gently, and you felt the obscene pull of it—your cunt clenching around his tongue hile Wooyoung's mouth worked to drain you. "Please—please, I can't—" you sobbed, fingernails digging deeper into San's shoulders, fresh scratches joining the others. San's hips bucked again beneath you, his cock throbbing where it pressed against your leg, and he let out a wrecked groan at the sight of you falling apart above him.
Wooyoung's tongue pushed deeper, swirling against your inner walls, and your body convulsed—back arching, thighs clamping around sans hips before shaking uncontrollably. He held you tighter, his grip bruising, refusing to let you squirm away as his mouth filled with the thick, warm mess he'd been craving. Wooyoung must have felt you shaking—felt the way your sobs had turned thin and breathless, the way your thighs were quivering so hard around his head they could barely hold their own weight. Something in him shifted. A flicker of mercy, maybe. Or maybe he'd just gotten what he wanted. His mouth pulled off your cunt with a wet, obscene pop, lips glossy and dripping. Then his hands released your hips, fingers uncurling from the bruises they'd left, and the second the pressure was gone, you moved. You scrambled. There was no grace in it, no coordination—just your arms dragging your wrecked body up San's torso, nails scraping over the red welts you'd carved into his chest, pulling yourself higher, higher, desperate to put distance between your throbbing cunt and Wooyoung's mouth. Your knees slid against the sheets on either side of San's ribs, thighs trembling so badly they could barely support your weight, and you collapsed forward the moment you were far enough up. Your pussy landed slick and hot against the plane of San's stomach, the taut muscle flexing beneath your soaked folds, and your chest dropped hard against his face. Your tits pressed flat over his nose and mouth, soft flesh smothering him completely, your arms draped above his head on either side, fingers loosely gripping the pillow. You didn't care. You couldn't care. Your body was nothing but deadweight and trembling muscle, and you lay there limp, gasping against the top of his head, breath hitching with every aftershock still rippling through your cunt. San groaned beneath you muffled, vibrating against your chest and his hands found your knees first. His palms traced up slowly from your kneecaps along the outside of your thighs, fingers dragging over sweat-slicked skin until they reached the swell of your ass. He squeezed, both hands full, gripping the bruised flesh and kneading slow and deep, pulling you tighter against his stomach. Your slick smeared across his abs, warm and messy, and his cock twitched against the small of your back, still achingly hard. You felt his breath hot, ragged puffs against your tits, his nose pressed into the soft skin between them. He wasn't trying to move you. Wasn't shifting to breathe. He just held you there, hands full of your ass, face buried in your chest, letting you smother him. A low, wrecked sound hummed from his throat into your skin, and his hips rolled lazily beneath you, cock grinding against empty air. Behind you, the mattress dipped. Wooyoung was still on his knees, and you heard him a wet, dripping sound, then a low hum of satisfaction. He'd kept his mouth full. The mix of San's cum and your slick, pooled thick on his tongue, and he let it dribble. Slowly, deliberately, he parted his lips and let the thick, warm mess slide from his mouth into his cupped palm. It pooled obscene and glistening, streaked white and clear, and he spat into it once for good measure—a thick string of saliva mixing into the goo. Then his hand found San's cock. No warning. No tease. Just Wooyoung's slick, dripping fingers wrapping tight around San's shaft and stroking down in one long, filthy slide.
San's hips jolted, a muffled groan vibrating hard against your chest, his fingers digging into your ass so hard you knew there'd be fresh marks tomorrow. Wooyoung's grip twisted on the upstroke, palm slick and obscene, smearing the disgusting mix of cum and spit up and down San's twitching length, coating every inch until his cock glistened wet and angry-red in the low light. "Fuck—" San choked against your tits, his voice wrecked, hips bucking up into Wooyoung's fist. His cock throbbed hard, visibly, the swollen head flushing darker as Wooyoung's thumb dragged over the tip, smearing the mess in slow circles. Wooyoung just chuckled, low and dark, his eyes fixed on San's cock twitching in his grip. "Messy," he murmured, squeezing on the downstroke, watching San's abs clench beneath your pussy. "You're still so fucking hard, San-ah." San was full of gasps and moans beneath you wrecked, breathless sounds that vibrated straight into your chest every time Wooyoung's fist twisted down his shaft. You could feel him twisting underneath you, hips rolling, stomach flexing against your soaked pussy, every muscle in his core clenching and unclenching as Wooyoung worked him over. The slick, obscene squelch of that cum-slicked hand pumping San's cock filled the room, wet and filthy, each stroke punctuated by a thick drip of mess hitting the sheets. San shifted his head beneath you just enough, nose nudging the soft curve of your breast and then his mouth found you. Open-mouthed kisses landed hot and wet along the top of your tit, sloppy and desperate, his tongue dragging flat across your skin before his lips sealed and sucked hard. A mark bloomed. Then another. He worked his way across the swell of your chest, mouth never leaving you for more than a half-second, kissing and sucking and biting a trail down to the underside where the flesh was softest, most sensitive. His teeth caught the delicate skin there and tugged, and you whimpered, fingers tightening weakly in the pillow above his head. He bit down. Sucked. Licked over the sting. Then moved to the other tit and started again—nipping the curve first, then sealing his mouth over your nipple and pulling until your back arched involuntarily, a broken sob catching in your throat. His hands slid from your ass, palms dragging up the curve of your spine until both arms wrapped around your back, locking you against him. Tight. Possessive. His forearms pressed into the dip of your waist, biceps squeezing your ribs, crushing your tits harder against his face. You couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Could only feel—his mouth everywhere, hot and hungry, marking you in ways that would bruise purple by morning. And through it all, he moaned. Whined. High, broken sounds that hummed against your nipple, vibrating through the swollen bud and radiating outward until your oversensitized nerves lit up like static. His lips trembled around your areola, and a shuddering whine buzzed into your flesh, his mouth still sucking even as the sound broke from his throat. It was too much—a different kind of overstimulation, not sharp and electric like Wooyoung's tongue had been, but deep and aching, warmth pooling low in your gut every time San's vibrating moans pulsed against your skin. Then the squelching stopped. Wooyoung's hand vanished—no warning, no gradual slow-down—and San's hips snapped up into empty air, cock throbbing against nothing, a frustrated groan tearing from his chest into your tit. His arms tightened around you, hips bucking again, chasing friction that wasn't there, his swollen cock twitching desperately.
You had no strength to lift yourself off his face. Couldn't turn to see what Wooyoung was doing. San, smothered beneath your chest, was just as blind. The anticipation coiled tight in your stomach—something was shifting on the bed, the mattress dipping behind you, weight redistributing. You didn't see it happen. You felt it. A string of curses spilled from Wooyoung's lips—raw, bitten-off, wrecked—and San bit down hard on the fatty part of your boob simultaneously, teeth sinking deep into the plush flesh, his whole body jerking beneath you as a guttural moan ripped from his throat into your skin. "Sannie, baby, you're too fucking big—" Wooyoung's voice cracked, breathless, and you heard the obscene wet sound of him sinking down, taking San's cock inside him inch by inch. "Jesus Christ—you really are trying to kill our sweet girl, aren't you?" He bottomed out with a shudder you felt through San's entire body—the tremor running through San's chest, his arms, his jaw still locked around your breast. San's moan broke into something wrecked and sobbing against your tit, his hips jerking up involuntarily, and Wooyoung's sharp gasp cut through the air above you. Wooyoung didn't wait. Didn't give himself the mercy of adjusting, of breathing through the stretch, of letting his body relax around the obscene thickness splitting him open. He just moved, lifting his hips and slamming back down with a force that rang through the room like a crack of thunder. The sound that tore from San's throat was barely human. His teeth released your breast on a guttural, broken moan, his head falling back into the pillow, neck corded with straining muscle. You felt the vibration of it against your chest, the way his whole torso seized beneath you, arms locking so tight around your back that your ribs ached. His hips snapped up on instinct meeting Wooyoung's downward slam with a brutal collision of wet, slick skin that echoed off the walls. "Fuck—" Wooyoung's voice was ragged, wrecked, but he didn't slow down. He rose again, thighs flexing, and dropped. Hard. The wet slap of his ass against San's hips was obscene—slick with cum and spit, a thick squelch accompanying every impact. You couldn't see it, pressed face-down against San's chest with your tits crushed into his face, but you could hear everything. Every filthy, wet thrust. The creak of the mattress springs. The sharp, rhythmic slap of Wooyoung's own hard cock swinging up and smacking against his stomach on each bounce—quiet but unmistakable, a soft thap, thap, thap layered beneath the heavier collision of bodies. San's hips jerked wildly beneath you, bucking up into Wooyoung's rhythm with no control, no finesse—just raw, desperate need. Each upward thrust shoved his body against yours, grinding your oversensitive pussy against the slick plane of his stomach, and you pressed your chest down harder, muffling your sobs into the pillow above his head. It was too much. The sounds alone were enough to unravel you—the wet, filthy orchestra of Wooyoung riding San's cock, the slick squelch of his ass taking every thick inch, San's wrecked moans vibrating against your swollen nipples, and beneath it all, the quiet, persistent slap of Wooyoung's neglected dick hitting his own abdomen like a metronome counting out the brutal pace. "God, Sannie—" Wooyoung panted behind you, words fractured between bounces. His breath was ragged, hitching every time he bottomed out, every time San's fat cock punched deep enough to steal the air from his lungs. "Feel you in my fucking throat—" San growled. The sound was low, animal, rumbling through his chest and into yours. His arms tightened around you impossibly tighter crushing your body against his as his hips fucked upward with punishing force.
You could feel his abs clenching and releasing beneath your slick cunt, every muscle in his core working as he drove into Wooyoung with everything he had. His mouth found your tit again, latching onto the side of your breast and biting down, not gentle, not careful—teeth sinking into flesh until you yelped, until the sting bloomed hot and sharp and your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping fresh slick onto his stomach. Wooyoung was relentless. His pace didn't falter—if anything, he rode harder, faster, each slam down grinding San's cock against whatever spot inside him that made his voice crack into a high, desperate whine on every thrust. You could hear him struggling, hear the way his breath stuttered and his thighs trembled with the effort of bouncing on a cock that thick, but he took it. Took San for a wild, brutal ride, using every ounce of practiced ease in his body to milk San's cock while his own dick swung untouched and leaking, slapping his stomach in that quiet, filthy rhythm.
San's fingers dug into your back, nails leaving crescents in your skin, his hips blurring beneath you as he chased the edge Wooyoung was dragging him toward. His mouth trembled against your breast, moans breaking into sobs, body thrashing between the two of you—pinned beneath Wooyoung's weight, smothered by yours, overwhelmed from both sides. "More—" San's voice was barely a whisper, wrecked and desperate against your skin. "Don't stop—don't fucking stop—" San was a fucking wreck. Completely, utterly undone—his body convulsing beneath you in waves you could feel rippling through every muscle pressed against your skin. His cock stayed hard inside Wooyoung, impossibly, almost painfully rigid despite being raw and overspent, flushed an angry red that you couldn't see but could feel in the way his hips jerked and twitched with every involuntary clench of Wooyoung's walls around him. He was a whore for it—truly, genuinely a whore—his body begging for more even when it had nothing left to give, his dick twitching and leaking in Wooyoung's ass like it hadn't already cum multiple times tonight. His mouth didn't know what it wanted anymore. It was everywhere—latching onto your nipple, sucking hard enough to make you cry out, then releasing with a wet pop only to bite down on the soft, sensitive underside where the flesh was tender and marked. His teeth scraped, sank, worried the skin there until you flinched, and then his tongue was back, laving over the sting, wet and hot and frantic. He couldn't decide. He wanted to cry. Wanted to moan. Wanted to scream. Wanted to keep kissing, sucking, biting, marking your tits until they were raw and swollen and bruised with his mouth. "San—San, fuck—" you gasped, your hands flying down to his head, fingers tangling in his sweat-drenched hair and pulling. Hard. Nails scraping his scalp, yanking his face tighter against your chest. The sound he made was devastating. A broken, muffled sob against your breast that vibrated through your ribcage, his hips stuttering violently beneath you.
The pain spurred him on—his mouth clamped down harder, sucking your nipple with a desperate, sloppy intensity that made the swollen bud ache, throbbing hot and tender between his lips. He bit the soft underside again, and you felt the bruise forming, felt your nipple swell to twice its size under the abuse, flushed and puffy and glistening with his spit. Wooyoung didn't let up. If anything, he rode harder—slamming his hips down with brutal, rhythmic force, taking San's thick cock to the root on every bounce. The wet slap of his ass against San's hips was relentless, slick and obscene, and you could hear him panting above you, hear the way his breath hitched every time San's cock punched against that spot deep inside him. His own dick swung untouched, slapping his stomach in that quiet, filthy thap, thap, thap—neglected, leaking. San's body convulsed. Not a gentle tremor—a full-body seizure that made his back arch off the mattress, his abs clenching hard beneath your dripping pussy, his arms crushing you against his chest so tight you could barely breathe. His hips snapped up erratically, rhythm completely gone, just raw, desperate fucking—chasing the edge with everything he had left. His mouth tore away from your nipple on a sob, gasping, then dove right back, latching onto the other breast and biting down on the swollen nipple so hard you screamed. Your fingers yanked his hair again, pulling his head back, and his eyes were glassy, wet, lost—tears tracking down his temples into the sweat-soaked pillow. His lips were swollen, red, trembling, and he looked ruined. Completely fucking ruined. But his cock was still hard, still twitching inside Wooyoung, still craving more even as his body shook apart. "Please—" San whimpered, and the sound was so broken, so small, that your cunt clenched around nothing, dripping fresh slick onto his heaving stomach. "Please—" Wooyoung slammed down. Ground his hips in a tight circle. San's whole body seized—one sharp, violent convulsion that lifted his ass off the mattress—and he came. Hard. His hips jerked up into Wooyoung's ass in stuttering, brutal thrusts, pumping thick, hot cum deep inside as a wrecked, animal groan tore from his throat. His mouth found your tit again, biting down on the swollen nipple muffling his sobs, his cock pulsing and twitching through the orgasm while Wooyoung milked every last drop with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. San's fingers dug into your back hard, his body still trembling through the aftershocks, cock twitching weakly inside Wooyoung's clenching heat. He was crying. Actually crying—tears soaking into your skin, sobs muffled against your abused, swollen breast, his hips still jerking in tiny, involuntary thrusts like his body refused to accept it was over. The room went quiet. Not silent—never silent, not with three bodies breathing hard and hearts pounding and the wet sounds of skin sticking to skin—but quiet enough that you could hear San's ragged sobs slowing into shuddering, hiccupping breaths against your chest. His tears kept coming, tracking hot and wet down your skin, his mouth still pressed loosely to your swollen nipple but not sucking anymore, just resting there like he needed the contact to survive. His arms stayed locked around your back, fingers dug in hard, but his grip was desperate now, not rough. Clinging. Holding on like you might disappear if he let go.
Wooyoung sat still above him, hips settled flush against San's, his weight pressing San's softening cock deep inside his ass. He didn't move. Didn't pull off. Just stayed there, plugged full, his hands resting flat on San's heaving stomach on either side of your dripping pussy, his own breath slowly steadying. His eyes were fixed on your and sans heaving bodies. You lifted off him slowly. Carefully. Shifting your weight down his body until your slick, cum-smeared stomach dragged over his abs, until your face was level with his, until you could cradle his jaw in both of your trembling hands. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, swollen from crying, lashes clumped wet and dark. His cheeks were flushed an angry, blotchy pink, tear tracks cutting through the sheen of sweat covering his face. His lips were bitten raw, swollen, trembling. He looked fucking destroyed. "You're so beautiful," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Then his temple. Then the bridge of his nose. "So beautiful, San. So fucking beautiful." He let out a broken sound—half sob, half whimper—his eyes fluttering shut as your lips touched his damp eyelids, kissing the tears away. His hands found your waist, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him again like he couldn't bear even an inch of separation. "You did so good," you murmured against his cheek, kissing the hot, flushed skin there, feeling the burn of his feverish heat under your lips. "You took everything. You gave everything. You're so strong, baby." His chin trembled. His jaw clenched under your palms, and a fresh tear slipped free, rolling down to meet your thumb. You caught it. Wiped it away with slow, gentle strokes, rubbing soft circles into the hollow beneath his eye, the pad of your thumb tracing the tender skin where his lashes fluttered against you. "I've got you," you breathed, kissing his wet cheek, his jaw, the corner of his swollen mouth. "I've got you. You're perfect. You're so good. So good for me, San. So good for both of us." He opened his eyes at that—just barely, glassy and unfocused—and looked at you with an expression so raw, so stripped bare, that your chest ached. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out except a shaky exhale that broke into another quiet sob. "Shh," you soothed, pressing your forehead to his. "Don't talk. Just breathe. You're okay. You did so well." Your fingers slid into his hair—soaked through, matted with sweat, tangled from your hands pulling and yanking and dragging—carding through it slowly, gently, scratching his scalp the way you knew he liked. He shuddered beneath you, his whole body jerking with a residual tremor, and his arms tightened around your waist, crushing your stomach against his. Wooyoung shifted slightly behind you, his ass clenching around San's soft cock, and San whimpered—high-pitched, broken, oversensitive—his hips twitching in a weak, involuntary thrust before going still again. "Look at you," Wooyoung murmured, his voice low and warm, teasing but softer than usual. "Completely fucking wrecked. You're such a mess, San." San's eyes squeezed shut, another tear escaping, and you kissed it away too. Pressed your lips to his cheekbone, his chin, the sensitive spot just below his ear. Whispered against his skin, over and over, "You're beautiful. You're so good. You're so strong. You took everything. You're perfect." He held you tighter. Trembling. Clinging. Broken open and raw and yours.
Wooyoung shifted behind you, his thighs tensing as he braced his hands on San's stomach. You felt the movement, the slow, deliberate lift of his hips, the gradual slide of San's soft, oversensitive cock slipping free. San's breath hitched, his fingers digging into your waist, and then Wooyoung raised himself higher, pulling off inch by inch until— "Fuck—" San's voice ripped out of him, sharp and broken, his whole body jerking beneath you. A high, wounded cry followed, his head throwing back against the pillow, neck corded with strain. "Ah—fuck, fuck, don't—it's too—" His cock popped free, wet and spent, slapping against his lower belly with a slick sound. San sobbed through clenched teeth, his hips twitching wildly, hands scrabbling at your back like he needed something—anything—to anchor him against the searing overstimulation of air hitting his raw, abused flesh. His cock lay soft and swollen against his stomach, flushed an angry red, still leaking thin streaks of cum and slick. Wooyoung barely caught himself. His arms gave out the second he was free, and he collapsed face-down onto the mattress beside San with a graceless, heavy thud. His ass was still clenched, thighs pressed together, but it didn't matter—San had filled him so deep that cum was already leaking out, slick trails sliding down his balls, his taint, pooling on the sheets beneath him. He groaned into the pillow, half-muffled, his own cock still half-hard and trapped underneath his body, twitching weakly against the damp fabric. "God, that was—" Wooyoung's voice came out muffled, breathless, turning his head just enough to speak, his cheek smushed against the pillow. A lazy, fucked-out grin spread across his face. "That was the best sex I've had in a while, honestly." San made a strangled sound beside him, somewhere between a groan and a whimper. "No, I'm serious," Wooyoung continued, bratty and bright-eyed even now, even face-down in a wet spot with cum leaking from his ass. "Should've done this way earlier. Fuck, San—your cock is perfect. Like, literally perfect. You made my ass into a fucking sleeve, you know that?" He shifted his hips, wincing slightly, and a fresh trickle of cum slid down his inner thigh. "Still feel you dripping out of me. You came so deep I don't even think it's all gonna come out. Fuck." San's breath was ragged, uneven. His hands hadn't left your body—still gripping your waist, your sides, pulling you against him while his chest heaved. His cock gave a weak, painful twitch at Wooyoung's words, and he let out a shaky moan, his eyes squeezing shut. "Can't—" San's voice cracked. "Can't get hard again. Don't—" "I'm not telling you to," Wooyoung said, turning his head to look at both of you, his eyes dark and warm and satisfied. "I'm just saying. Your cock was made for this. Made for stuffing holes full. Hers—" he nodded lazily toward your cum-slicked pussy, still swollen and dripping against San's stomach, "—and mine. Perfect fit. Both of us. You gonna argue with that?" San's jaw clenched. His eyes were wet again, fresh tears building at the corners, and his lips trembled as he pulled you tighter against his chest. You felt his heartbeat hammering under your cheek—too fast, too hard, his whole body still trembling with aftershocks. "Too much," he whispered, his voice raw and destroyed. "Both of you—it's too much, I can't—" "You don't have to," you murmured, pressing your lips to his jaw, his throat, the hollow of his collarbone.
Your body slid against his—slick with sweat and cum, every inch of skin dragging wet and hot against his. You could feel him shudder each time your nipples brushed his chest, each time your stomach pressed against his soft, spent cock. "Just feel it. Just let us hold you." Wooyoung rolled onto his side with a wince, cum smearing between his thighs, and pressed himself against San's other flank. His hand found San's arm, fingers tracing the bite marks and nail scratches you'd left earlier. "You're so fucking good, San," Wooyoung said, softer this time, his bratty edge melting into something warm and genuine. "So good. Both of us. You took care of both of us." San's breath broke into a sob. His arms tightened around you, one hand reaching blindly until Wooyoung caught it, laced their fingers together, squeezed. San pressed his face into your neck, his hot breath shuddering against your skin, tears soaking into your hair. "I love you," you whispered against his temple, rocking slowly against him, your slick body sliding over his in a slow, grounding rhythm. "I love you. You're perfect. You're so beautiful. You did everything. You gave us everything." His fingers squeezed yours—then Wooyoung's—then yours again, like he couldn't decide who to hold onto, like he needed every point of contact he could get. His cock lay soft and spent between your bodies, too raw to stir, but his hips still rocked weakly against your stomach, chasing friction, chasing closeness, chasing the feeling of being consumed. "More," he breathed, barely audible, his wrecked voice muffled against your throat. "Please. Just—more. Don't stop touching me." You felt something shift in your limbs—a flicker of strength creeping back into your muscles, fragile but real. The trembling hadn't stopped, but your body remembered how to move, how to want, how to give. You lifted your head from San's chest, looking down at his face—tear-streaked, flushed deep red, lips swollen and parted, eyes half-lidded and glassy. He looked wrecked. Completely, beautifully wrecked. "More," he whispered again, his voice a broken, threadbare thing. "Please." You pressed your lips to his throat first. Soft at first—then harder, sucking the salt-slick skin between your teeth, biting down just enough to leave a dark bloom of purple against his pulse. San's breath stuttered, his head tilting back instinctively, baring more of his neck. You kissed and bit your way down, leaving a trail of wet, reddened marks along his collarbone, his chest, the swell of his pecs. Your tongue dragged flat across his nipple, and he jerked beneath you with a strangled whine. "That's it," you murmured against his skin, lips brushing the bite mark you'd just sucked into his shoulder. "You're so beautiful. Every inch of you." On San's other side, Wooyoung had propped himself up on one elbow, watching you work with a lazy, satisfied grin. His free hand slid down San's body—over his ribs, his stomach, tracing the faint tremor of his abs—before dipping lower. His fingers found San's thigh, squeezing the thick muscle there, kneading slow and deep. "God, your legs," Wooyoung muttered, almost to himself. "Fucking insane. All this muscle, and you can't even move right now, can you?" San's hips twitched—a weak, involuntary roll—but he didn't answer. His mouth hung open, breath coming in shallow, hiccuping gasps. His hands found your waist again, gripping loosely, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go. Wooyoung's hands worked lower, palms pressing into the meat of San's thighs, thumbs digging into the tension there. He massaged with slow, deliberate pressure—down over San's knees, his calves, squeezing each muscle group until San's legs went slack, trembling and pliant.
When Wooyoung's fingers reached San's feet, he pressed his thumbs into the arch, and San let out a sound you'd never heard before—a high, thin moan, almost a sob, his toes curling. "Fuck, you're gone, aren't you?" Wooyoung breathed, his voice dropping into something low and teasing. He glanced up at you, eyes glinting. "Look at him. Completely fucking gone." He wasn't wrong. San's eyes had rolled half-shut, his body boneless and twitching, chest rising and falling in uneven waves. He wasn't tracking anything anymore—not really—just sensation, just touch, just the overwhelming flood of being worshipped from both sides. His cock lay soft and angry-red against his thigh, still too raw to stir, but his hips kept moving in tiny, helpless circles—chasing nothing, chasing everything. You kissed his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. "You're perfect," you whispered between kisses, leaving faint red marks where your lips lingered too long. "We've got you."
San whimpered, his fingers tightening weakly on your waist. "Don't stop," he breathed, barely a sound at all. "Please don't—" “ We won't," you promised, dragging your tongue along the shell of his ear before biting down on the lobe.
Wooyoung's hands worked their way back up San's calves, his thighs, slow and thorough. Then he lowered his head—no warning, no hesitation—and pressed his open mouth to San's inner thigh. San's whole body jolted. "Shh," Wooyoung murmured against his skin, lips dragging wet and hot over the sensitive flesh. His tongue traced the crease where thigh met hip, dangerously close to San's spent, twitching cock—but not touching. Just breathing against him, letting the heat of his mouth ghost over the raw, swollen skin. San sobbed. His hips bucked up, cock giving a painful, empty twitch, and Wooyoung pulled back just enough to laugh—low and bratty and utterly shameless.
"Can't even take it, can you?" Wooyoung whispered, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to the opposite thigh, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "Just have to lie there and let me do whatever I want. Can't stop me." San's fingers clawed weakly at the sheets, his head tossing, tears spilling fresh down his temples. His mouth opened, but no words came out—just broken, breathless sounds, half-moans and half-cries.
You leaned down and kissed him full on the mouth, swallowing every sound, your hands cradling his face while Wooyoung's mouth worked lower, sucking and biting marks into both thighs, careful, deliberate, relentless. Wooyoung pulled back from San's thighs just long enough to survey his work—both sides of San's inner thighs already blooming with dark, wet marks, the skin glistening with spit and rising in bruised purple patches. He hummed, low and satisfied, then dragged his tongue flat up the inside of San's left thigh, collecting the salt of his sweat before sinking his teeth in just below the crease of his hip. San's whole body seized. A broken, guttural cry tore from his throat, muffled against your mouth as you kissed him deep and slow. His cock gave another painful, empty twitch—still too raw, too spent—but his hips rolled anyway, chasing sensation that had nowhere to go. Wooyoung's mouth was everywhere. He nipped his way across San's lower stomach, teeth grazing the trembling muscle just above his cock, then sucking hard enough to leave a fresh bruise beside his hip bone. He pulled back and blew a long, cool stream of air over the wet, heated skin, and San whimpered—high and thin and desperate—his abs clenching under the contrast. "Fuck, you're so easy like this," Wooyoung murmured, his lips brushing San's skin as he spoke. "All this muscle and you just—take it." He shifted lower, settling himself fully between San's legs. His hands slid down to San's knees, then hooked firmly underneath his thighs, gripping tight. With a deliberate, steady pressure, he pushed San's legs up and apart—spreading him wide open, folding him just enough to expose everything underneath. San's hands flew down instinctively, grabbing at Wooyoung's wrists, trying to close his legs.
"Wooyoung—don't—" San pulled breaking from your kiss. "Shh." Wooyoung's grip didn't budge. He held San's thighs open with effortless strength, thumbs pressing into the soft skin behind his knees. "Let me."He didn't wait for permission. His mouth descended—open, wet, hungry—onto the sensitive skin of San's inner thigh, He sucked hard, tongue dragging in slow circles, and San's legs shook violently in his hold, a sob catching in his chest. You pulled back from San's mouth, breathless, and looked down at his face—tears streaming freely, lips bitten raw, eyes unfocused and glazed. Beautiful. Wrecked. Yours. "Hey," you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. "I've got you. Let us take care of you." San's breath hitched. His hands released Wooyoung's wrists and found your arms instead, gripping weakly, clinging.
You shifted lower, dragging your mouth down his throat to his chest. Your hands found his pecs—thick, soft over hard muscle—and you groaned against his skin, squeezing and kneading the flesh the way he'd done to you. Your thumbs dragged over his nipples, already swollen and abused from earlier, and San gasped, his back arching off the mattress. "Ah—fuck—" he choked out.
You didn't let up. You sealed your mouth over his left nipple, sucking hard, then biting down—gentle at first, then sharper, until he cried out and his fingers tangled in your hair. You pulled back and blew cool air over the wet bud, watching it pebble and redden, then moved to the other side, repeating the torture with your tongue and teeth until both nipples were swollen, bruised, glistening. Below, Wooyoung was relentless. His tongue traced the crease where San's thigh met his groin, lapping wet and slow on either side of his cock and balls—never touching, just teasing the sensitive creases with slick heat. He peppered kisses along the underside of San's sack, soft and deliberate, before dragging his tongue lower—over the taint—and nipping the skin there with just enough pressure to make San's whole body jolt. "Close your legs," Wooyoung taunted, his breath hot against San's exposed skin. "Go ahead. Try." San couldn't. Wooyoung's grip was iron, holding him spread and open, and San could only sob and take it—mouth and teeth and tongue marking him in places no one else would ever see. You bit down hard on the swell of San's right pec, sucking a deep purple bruise into the muscle, and his chest bucked under your mouth, a wrecked moan tearing from him as both of you worshipped him from opposite ends—relentless, ravenous, refusing to stop.
San's body had given up fighting. Every muscle that had been clenched tight in resistance now lay trembling and loose beneath your hands and mouth, his thighs shaking in Wooyoung's grip, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. His cock twitched weakly against his stomach—spent, raw, impossibly sensitive—and his mouth hung open, spilling a constant stream of broken moans, whines, and cries that never quite formed words.Wooyoung finally moved to where he'd been heading all along.
His tongue flicked out—quick, precise—and dragged flat across San's hole.
San's entire body jolted like he'd been struck. A sharp, wrecked sob tore from his throat, his hips bucking up, then pressing down into the mattress, then bucking again—unsure whether to chase or escape. His fingers clawed at the sheets, knuckles white, head tossing side to side. "Ah—fuck—Wooyoung, what are you.." But Wooyoung was already gone. He pulled back the second San reacted, leaving the sensation hanging—unfinished, unresolved. His mouth trailed down San's inner thigh instead, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses into the bruised skin he'd already marked. He bit down on the tender flesh just above San's knee, sucking hard enough to leave another dark bloom, and San whined high and thin, his legs trembling violently in Wooyoung's iron hold. " what?" Wooyoung murmured against his skin, lips brushing the wet marks he'd left. "Use your words, San." San couldn't. His mouth opened, but only broken syllables tumbled out "please—more—I—don't—fuck—" helpless stream of cries and begging that tangled together into nothing coherent. You pressed your body against San's side, wrapping your arm across his chest, pulling him close. Your mouth found his jaw, kissing along the bone, then up to his ear. "Aww poor baby," you whispered, your lips brushing the shell of it. "You don’t even know what to ask for do you?" You cooed to him. San turned his face into your neck, nose pressing against your skin, his breath hot and wet and uneven. His arms wrapped around you—weak, desperate—clinging like you were the only thing keeping him from flying apart. Wooyoung made his way back up. His tongue traced a slow, wet path along the crease of San's thigh, then dipped lower—and flicked against his hole again. Just once. Just enough. The tip of his tongue pushed in, barely, wiggling for a fraction of a second before pulling back out. San's back arched off the mattress.
"Please—please,—Wooyoung, please—"
Wooyoung pulled away entirely. His mouth found San's balls instead, tongue laving over them slow and slick, then sucking gently. He trailed lower, biting the underside of San's ass cheek, then nipping at his taint—sharp little teeth marks that made San's whole body seize and jerk. "God, you're so desperate," Wooyoung said, his voice thick with amusement. He blew cool air over the wet skin, and San's hole clenched visibly—empty, wanting. "All this begging. You sound pathetic." San sobbed against your neck. "I can't—I can't—please—" "I know," Wooyoung cooed, mocking and soft at the same time. His tongue returned to San's hole, flicking rapidly—three, four, five quick strokes—then pushing in just the tip again, wiggling, stretching, before withdrawing. San's hips chased his mouth, lifting shamelessly, his spent cock twitching painfully against his stomach. "More—please, more—inside, I need—" But Wooyoung was already gone again, kissing his way down the other thigh, biting fresh bruises into the trembling muscle, then sucking hard on the soft skin behind his knee. He took his time—slow, deliberate, maddening before making his way back up. This time, he pushed his tongue in deeper. Not far, never far enough, but deeper than before, wiggling against the tight ring of muscle, feeling it clench and flutter around him. San cried out a raw, broken sound and his fingers dug into your back. You held him closer, pressing kisses into his hair, his temple, his cheek. "You're so beautiful like this," you whispered. "So beautiful when you fall apart.." Wooyoung pulled back again, and San actually sobbed full, heaving, tears soaking your neck. "Please—Wooyoung, please, I need more, please don't stop—" Wooyoung chuckled, low and dark, and dragged his tongue flat over San's hole one more time slow, deliberate, pressing in just enough to feel the muscle give before pulling back and blowing cool air over the wet, twitching skin."Ask nicely," he said. San's mouth moved against your neck, but only wrecked, unintelligible sounds came out—please and more and need and fuck and don't and more again—all tangled together in a desperate, helpless mess. Wooyoung smiled and lowered his mouth once more. Wooyoung's tongue pressed flat against San's hole slow, deliberate, wet and San's whole body seized. His back bowed off the mattress, a strangled cry ripping from his throat, muffled against your neck where his face stayed buried. His fingers clawed at your back, dragging down, leaving red lines that stung sweetly. Then Wooyoung pulled away again. San whined high, thin, broken. his hips chased the warmth of Wooyoung's mouth, lifting shamelessly off the bed. His spent cock twitched against his stomach, still impossibly sensitive, leaking weakly even though there was nothing left to give. "Wooyoung is such a tease," you murmured, pressing your lips to Sans temple. "You love it when your best friend is teasing you, don’t you?" Wooyoung's mouth traced a wet path down San's inner thigh, tongue dragging over bruises he'd already left, teeth scraping fresh marks into trembling muscle. He bit down just above San's knee hard and San's leg jerked violently in his grip, a wrecked sob spilling out. "Please—please, I—fuck—Wooyoung—" "Please what?" Wooyoung's voice was thick with amusement, his breath warm against San's damp skin. He kissed the bruise he'd just made, then sucked another one beside it. "You don't even know what you're asking for, do you?" San didn't. Couldn't. His mouth opened just sounds that spilled from him like his body was too overwhelmed to contain them.
You shifted, pressing your lips along San's jaw, then down to his neck. Your teeth found the corded muscle of his throat, and you bit down gentle at first, then harder sucking a dark bloom into his skin. San gasped, his hips stuttering, fingers tightening on the sheets. "Cute," you whispered against the mark. "So cute. You're so pretty when you cry, baby." Another sob tore from him. Wooyoung made his way back up. His tongue traced the crease of San's thigh, dipped lower, and flicked against his hole three quick strokes then pushed in. Just the tip. Just enough to feel the tight ring of muscle clench and flutter around him before he pulled back out entirely. San screamed. Not loud—his voice was too wrecked for that—but raw and ragged, his whole body convulsing. His cock twitched violently, and his thighs shook so hard in Wooyoung's grip that the bed frame rattled "More—please, more—I need—inside, please—" Wooyoung ignored him. His mouth found San's balls instead, tongue laving over them slow and slick, sucking gently, then releasing. "You're such a mess," Wooyoung said, blowing cool air over the wet, twitching skin. San's hole clenched visibly—empty, desperate. "Crying, begging, can't even form a sentence. Pathetic."San sobbed. Full, heaving, tears soaking his face. You held him tighter, pressing your body against his side, one hand cradling the back of his head. "It's okay," you whispered into his hair. "Let it out. We've got you. You're so beautiful, San. So beautiful when you fall apart like this." Wooyoung chuckled, low and dark, and kissed his way down San's other thigh. He bit fresh bruises into the trembling muscle, sucked hard on the soft skin behind his knee, then slowly—agonizingly slowly—made his way back up. This time, he pushed his tongue in deeper still. He held it there, wiggling, stretching, and San's hips bucked up so hard his cock slapped against his stomach with a wet sound. His fingers clawed at your back, your arms, anything he could reach. "More—please—more—" This time, Wooyoung wasn't playing around. His mouth sealed over San's hole and he dove in—tongue flat, broad, wet—licking a long, hungry stripe from taint to the tight ring of muscle before pushing inside. No teasing. No pulling back. Just his tongue sinking deep, stretching San open with a slow, deliberate thrust that had San's entire body locking up. San's moan tore through the room—raw, wrecked, barely human. His back arched clean off the mattress, every muscle in his body seizing at once. His fingers clawed at your back so hard you felt skin break, and his cock twitched violently against his stomach, spent and empty but still trying, still jerking with every stroke of Wooyoung's tongue. You held him down, arms wrapped tight around his trembling frame, mouth pressed to his temple. "That's it," you whispered against his damp skin. "Take it. Let him in." Wooyoung gripped San's ass cheeks with both hands, spreading them wide, and fucked his tongue deeper. He moved with purpose now dedicated, eager, worshipping. Each thrust of his tongue pushed further, stretching that tight ring of muscle open, and he held San's hips pinned to the mattress so he couldn't buck, couldn't escape, could only lie there and take it.
San sobbed. Full, heaving, broken sobs that shook his whole chest. Tears soaked your neck, his mouth open, sounds spilling out that weren't words anymore—just desperate, wrecked cries that came from somewhere deeper than his throat.
Fuck—fuck—please—please—more—" Wooyoung pulled back. San's hole gaped slightly, wet and twitching, clenching around nothing. Wooyoung spat directly on it—a thick, deliberate glob of saliva that hit the stretched muscle and started to drip down, slicking the crack of San's ass. San whimpered at the sensation, his thighs shaking violently in Wooyoung's grip. Then Wooyoung's tongue was back. He swiped it through the mess he'd made, licking up his own spit with a long, flat stroke that dragged over San's hole and gathered everything wet and slick. San's hips jerked—hard—and a strangled moan ripped from his throat, his cock twitching so violently it slapped his stomach again. "Good?" Wooyoung murmured against the wet skin, his breath hot and damp. San couldn't answer. His mouth moved but only broken sounds came out—please and more and fuck and please again—his body trembling so hard the bed frame rattled beneath you. Wooyoung pushed back inside. His tongue slid through the slick, wet mess, sinking deep into San's stretched hole with a slow, relentless stroke. He fucked him with it steady, rhythmic, deliberate each thrust pressing deeper, each withdrawal pulling a fresh sob from San's wrecked throat. His hands held San's ass spread wide, thumbs digging into the bruised flesh, keeping him open and exposed.
Wooyoung groaned against his hole, the vibration making San seize and cry out, and pushed his tongue in deeper still. He held it there, wiggling, stretching, his mouth sealed tight around the stretched rim, and San's whole body went rigid every muscle locked, every nerve firing as a broken, wrecked scream tore from his throat. "Keep him open," Wooyoung murmured, his voice rough and wrecked. He pulled back from San's ass, lips swollen and glistening, and looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes. "Hold him right there." You pressed your palms against San's trembling thighs and pushed them wide apart, exposing his slick, aching hole completely. The muscle twitched and clened around nothing, wet with Wooyoung's spit, flushed and swollen from the relentless tongue-fucking it had just taken. San whimpered at the exposure, his hips trying to twist away, but you held him firm, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs. You tightened your grip, pressing San's thighs into the mattress. His cock lay thick and angry against his stomach, still twitching weakly despite being completely spent, and his chest heaved with every ragged breath. You leaned down, your mouth finding his nipple—hard, peaked, sensitive from all the attention it had already taken—and sucked it between your teeth. San cried out, his back arching off the bed. "Fuck—please—“
You bit down. Hard. Your teeth sank into the stiff bud until San yelped, his fingers clawing at your shoulders. You sucked the abused flesh into your mouth, tongue swirling over the raw nipple before releasing it with a wet pop, already moving to the other side. your mouth worked him over biting, sucking, marking him with bruises that bloomed dark against his flushed skin. "Watch," Wooyoung said, and you pulled back from San's chest to look down between his spread legs. Wooyoung pressed one finger against San's spit-slick hole and pushed. Slowly. Deliberately. His finger sank in deep, knuckle by knuckle, until it disappeared completely inside San's ass. San's whole body seized, a broken sob tearing from his throat as Wooyoung curled his finger upward, pressing against the slick inner walls with a bratty flick. "There it is," Wooyoung whispered, his finger pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. San's hole clenched tight around the intrusion, the stretched rim flushed pink and glistening. Wooyoung set a rhythm deep, curling thrusts that had San's thighs shaking violently in your grip, his cock twitching helplessly against his stomach. "More—please—fuck—" San begged, his voice cracked and desperate.You couldn't help yourself. You freed hand from one of his thighs, followed down, fingertips brushing against Wooyoung's where they disappeared inside San. You pressed one of your own fingers against his hole right beside Wooyoung's feeling the tight ring of muscle resist, then slowly give. "Push," Wooyoung breathed, his finger still buried deep, still curling and thrusting. "Let's open him up together."
You pressed in slowly. The stretch was immediate San's hole clenching hard around both fingers, the tight muscle fighting the intrusion as you sank deeper beside Wooyoung's finger. San screamed, his hips jerking wildly, but you held his thigh down with your other hand, keeping him pinned and spread. "Take it, baby," you whispered, your finger sliding in to the second knuckle. "Let us in." Wooyoung groaned at the added pressure, his finger twitching inside San alongside yours. You felt him curl again, fingertip dragging against San's inner walls, and you matched the movement—both fingers pressing and curling together, scissoring slowly apart to stretch that tight hole wider. San sobbed. Full, heaving, broken sobs that shook his entire chest. His hands grabbed at anything—your arm, the sheets, Wooyoung's hair—his body twitching and jerking between you both. "Please—please—I can't—fuck—please—" "Yes you can," Wooyoung growled, his finger thrusting deeper alongside yours. "Take it for us." You scissored your fingers apart, stretching San open wider, feeling his walls clench and flutter around the dual intrusion. Wooyoung matched your rhythm—pulling out, thrusting in, curling deep—and together you fucked San's hole with a slow, relentless tandem that had him writhing and begging beneath you. San's cock jerked violently, slapping his stomach, and a wet streak of pre-cum dribbled from the tip. Both men were shuddering now—San from the overstimulation tearing through every nerve, Wooyoung from the raw, desperate sounds spilling from San's wrecked throat. "Good boy," you murmured against his thigh, biting down harder. "So good for us." San was still sobbing beneath you, his hole clenching around the two fingers stretching him open, when you pulled your finger back—just enough to press two fingertips together against his slick entrance. You didn't give him time to brace. "Wait—" San gasped, his head lifting from the pillow, eyes blown wide and wet. "Wait, I'm not—" You pushed in. Two of your fingers sank deep alongside Wooyoung's one, and San's voice broke into a raw, shattered scream. His hips bucked off the bed, thighs spasming violently against your palm where you held him open, and his walls clamped down so hard around all three fingers that you felt the pressure in your knuckles. "Fuck—fuck—fuck—" San chanted, tears streaming freely down his temples, his cock jerking and slapping wet against his stomach with every convulsion. " look at him just swallowing Three fingers," Wooyoung breathed, his voice thick with awe. He curled his finger deep, dragging against the swollen inner wall, and you matched him—both your fingers thrusting and curling in tandem, scissoring apart, stretching that tight rim wider. The friction was dry, catching, and San whimpered high and broken every time your knuckles dragged against his entrance. You tilted your head, opened your mouth, and let a thick strand of spit roll off your tongue. It dripped slow and obscene down onto your buried fingers, slicking the stretch where your digits disappeared inside San's flushed hole. The saliva made everything wetter, filthier—your fingers slid easier now, pulling out and pushing back in with a slick, obscene squelch that had San thrashing.Wooyoung groaned at the sound, at the sight of your spit dribbling down San's stretched rim, and he pulled his finger out just long enough to press two together and shove them back in alongside yours. Four fingers.
San's hole stretched wide—wider than before, the rim pulled taut and glistening, flushed dark pink around the thick intrusion. Wooyoung's fingers were longer, bigger, and when he curled them deep, he reached something inside San that made the man arch clean off the mattress. San screamed. Not a moan, not a whimper—a scream, raw and hoarse, his entire body locking up before shuddering apart. His cock twitched violently, a thick bead of pre-cum oozing from the tip even though he was completely spent. His abs clenched and rippled, every muscle seizing at once. "There," Wooyoung whispered, his eyes dark and hungry. "Right there." He pressed again—harder, faster—and San's scream broke into a sob, his body arching so high that only his shoulders and heels touched the bed. You slammed your free hand down on his lower stomach, pinning him flat while your fingers rammed deeper alongside Wooyoung's, both of you fucking into him furiously now. "Take it, baby," you gasped, your fingers pistoning in and out, the wet squelch of spit and slick filling the room. "Take it—" "Can't—can't—please—" San sobbed, his hands clawing at the sheets, at your wrist, at Wooyoung's forearm—grabbing anything, everything, his body trembling so violently you could feel the vibrations through your palm where it pressed his stomach down. Wooyoung's fingers curled and rammed that spot again, and San went rigid—his mouth open, no sound coming out, eyes squeezed shut, every muscle locked. You scissored your fingers wide, stretching him open further, and Wooyoung thrust deep again, pressing hard against the swollen bundle of nerves inside him. San's body convulsed. His cock jerked, slapping his stomach, and a thin, weak stream of cum dribbled from the tip—his body forcing out something it didn't have left to give. His sobs went silent, chest heaving, tears pooling in the hollows of his throat. "Good boy," you moaned, your fingers still thrusting, "So good—so pretty—" Wooyoung didn't stop. His fingers kept ramming that spot, relentless, bratty, drunk on the sight of San falling apart beneath them both. San's hole clenched and fluttered, the stretched rim twitching around four fingers, and every time Wooyoung hit that spot, San's whole body jerked like he'd been struck by lightning. "You still need More?" Wooyoung asked, his voice wrecked and breathless, looking up at you with dark, dilated eyes. His fingers slowed but didn't stop—shallow, grinding thrusts that kept San trembling on the edge. San whimpered. A broken, wrecked sound. His fingers found your wrist and gripped tight—not pushing you away, not pulling you closer. Just holding. His lips moved, forming words that didn't come out, tears spilling down his flushed, swollen face. You leaned down, pressing your forehead against his sweat-slick stomach, and whispered against his skin, “ of course you can, right? you’re doing so good Sannie. " Wooyoung's eyes were dark, hungry, calculating, and when he caught your gaze over San's trembling stomach, his lips curled into that bratty, devastating smirk. Your fingers pistoned alongside Wooyoung's, thrusting furiously, slamming back together, pressing against spots inside San that had him arching clean off the mattress. His thighs shook violently against your palm where you held them apart, muscles jumping and twitching, and his cock—spent, soft, oversensitive—slapped wet against his stomach with every convulsion.
Wooyoung curled his finger deep, dragging against the swollen inner wall, and you matched the motion—both your fingers pressing and curling in tandem, finding weak spots San didn't know he had. Places that made him jerk, made him choke, made his eyes roll back and his mouth fall open in silent, shattered cries. "There—right there—" Wooyoung groaned, watching San's face twist. San's sobs went silent, chest heaving, tears pooling in the hollows of his throat, his body trembling beneath you both—wrecked, ruined, and utterly, completely yours. Wooyoung pressed his fingers in deep—deeper than before—and held them there. Not thrusting anymore. Just grinding. Slow, deliberate circles right against that swollen bundle of nerves inside San that made his entire body sing San's cock twitched. Uncontrollably. His soft, spent dick lay against his stomach, flushed and pathetic, and every time Wooyoung's fingertips dragged across that spot, his cock jerked like it was trying to get hard again and failing completely. "There it is," Wooyoung whispered, his voice dark and bratty. He pressed harder, grinding in tight circles, and San's thighs clamped together around both your hands. "There's that pretty little spot." San's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Just air. Just broken, breathless little gasps as his body trembled beneath you both. His hole clenched around your fingers, you felt the walls fluttering, spasming, milking at nothing. You kept your fingers pressed exactly where they were. Deep. Right alongside Wooyoung's. Then you felt it. A weak, shallow pulse around your fingers. San's hole clenched and unclenched—once, twice—and his soft cock twitched hard against his stomach. Clear liquid beaded at the tip. Not cum—something thinner, weaker. It dribbled out in a pathetic little stream, pooling on his lower stomach, dripping down the side of his shaft. His dick was completely soft, spent, useless, and yet his ass was milking your fingers like he was coming anyway. "Look at that," Wooyoung breathed, his eyes fixed on San's twitching, leaking cock. He ground his fingers harder, and another weak spurt dribbled out. "Look at that sad, pathetic little soft dick." San sobbed. His hands came up to cover his face, but you caught his wrists, pressing them down against the mattress. His chest heaved, tears streaming down his temples into his hair, and his cock kept leaking—weak, clear, untouched—every time Wooyoung pressed that spot.
"Coming from your ass like a little slut," Wooyoung continued, his voice sweet and cruel. He curled his fingers, grinding hard, and San's cock spasmed again, another thin trickle sliding down his shaft. "Can't even get hard. Just leaking. What a pathetic, useless little dick." "Please—" San gasped, his voice wrecked. "Please, I can't—it won't stop—" You pressed your fingers deeper, holding them right against that spot, and San's body convulsed. His back arched, his stomach clenched, and his soft cock twitched violently—another weak spurt of clear liquid dribbling out, pooling in the hollow of his hip. His hole clenched around your fingers so tight you could barely move them. "Shh," you whispered, leaning down to press your lips against his tear-soaked temple. "Just let it happen, baby. Just let it out." You kept your fingers exactly where they were. Pressing. Grinding. Riding him through it. Every time his hole fluttered, every time his cock twitched and leaked, you pressed harder, and San's body jerked—over and over, caught in a loop of pleasure so overwhelming it had gone past pain into something else entirely. Wooyoung watched with dark, hungry eyes, his fingers still grinding in slow, relentless circles. "Such a mess," he murmured. "Crying and leaking and you can't even get hard. Just a pathetic little hole getting fucked open." San went limp. His arms fell slack in your grip, his thighs stopped trembling, and his whole body sank into the mattress like every bone had dissolved. His cock gave one last weak twitch, a final bead of clear liquid pooling at the tip before sliding down, and then nothing. Just his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths, his hole still stretched around your fingers, still clenching weakly.
You pulled your fingers out slowly, carefully, and San whimpered at the loss. Wooyoung followed, easing his fingers free, and San's hole fluttered—empty, gaping, slick with spit. With your fingers finally withdrawn, you stayed hovered over San, watching the aftermath of the assault. His hole was a raw, pink ring, twitching rhythmically in the open air, still reacting to the phantom pressure of your fingers. He looked completely shattered, his muscular frame limp and trembling, his eyes glazed over in a deep, heavy subspace. Beside you, Wooyoung didn't move away. Instead, he looked down at his own hand slick, glistening, and coated in a mixture of spit and the leaking fluids from San’s overstimulated depths. A dark, predatory grin spread across his face. Without breaking eye contact with San’s ruined state, Wooyoung reached down and wrapped his wet fingers around his own cock. His dick was thick, flushing a deep red and twitching violently against his thigh, heavy with a desperate need for release. The sound of the slick friction, the wet slapping noise of San’s own arousal being used to stroke him filled the quiet room. "Look at you," Wooyoung murmured, his voice a low, bratty purr. He pumped his cock with a steady, greedy rhythm, his eyes locked on San’s twitching ass. "You fucked her out of her mind, San. You were so brutal, so relentless... and now look at you. Completely out of your mind, just waiting to get fucked." San let out a broken, airy moan, his hips giving a small, involuntary jerk. He was so far gone he couldn't even form words, only whimpering as he watched Wooyoung pleasure himself with the evidence of San's own vulnerability. Wooyoung’s stroking intensified, but he seemed unsatisfied with just the spit and slick. He reached back, his fingers grazing the crease of his own backside, finding the remnants of San’s thick, creamy cum that was still leaking from his own hole. He scooped the white heat of it up, bringing the heavy dollop of seed back to his cock, smearing the hot, sticky fluid over the swollen head of his dick. The sight made San’s breath hitch. The cycle of raw, unfiltered lust was circling back to him. Wooyoung scooted closer, the mattress dipping under his weight. He reached out and grabbed San’s thighs, hauling them wide apart with a rough tug, exposing the gaping, leaking hole to the light once more. San didn't fight him; he couldn't. He only sobbed softly, his head lolling back as Wooyoung pressed the burning, swollen head of his cock directly against the wet, pulsing entrance of San's ass. The contact was electric. San gasped, his entire body jolting as the heat of Wooyoung's hard shaft smeared against his raw walls. Wooyoung didn't push in yet; he just rubbed the head of his cock in slow, agonizing circles against the opening, teasing the stretched muscle, letting San feel exactly how hard and ready he was to take over.
"You're so open for me," Wooyoung whispered, grinding his cock against the slick folds, the friction creating a wet, squelching sound that echoed through the room. "So hot. I can feel you twitching around me already." You reach down, your hands sliding over San’s sweat-slicked skin to grip his trembling thighs. You haul them back even further, pinning his knees toward his chest and spreading his cheeks wide with a firm, possessive tug. The action leaves him completely exposed, his raw, leaking hole pulsing in the open air, a vivid, swollen pink ring that looks utterly ruined and desperate for more. San lets out a high, broken whimper, his back arching slightly as he feels the cool air hit his overstimulated depths, only to be replaced by the searing heat of Wooyoung’s cock grinding against him. Wooyoung doesn't give him a second to breathe. He presses the broad, swollen head of his dick hard against the entrance, grinding in slow, agonizing circles. He’s savoring the way San’s muscles twitch and spasm in a futile attempt to clamp down on him, the friction creating a thick, wet squelching sound as he smears the mixture of cum and spit across the pulsing rim.
"Look at it," Wooyoung growls, his voice thick with lust as he glares at the way San’s hole greedily sucks at the head of his shaft. "It's practically begging for it. You're such a pathetic, leaking mess, San." With a sudden, guttural growl, Wooyoung stops the teasing. He lunges forward, slamming his entire length home in one brutal, uncompromising thrust.
San’s scream is raw, a shredded sound that tears from his throat as his tight, abused hole is stretched to its absolute limit. The force of the impact jolts San’s entire frame, his head snapping back into the mattress, eyes rolling back as the sudden invasion shatters what little was left of his composure. He’s never been this open, this vulnerable, and the feeling of Wooyoung’s thick, hard cock bottoming out inside his overstimulated walls sends him spiraling deeper into a blind, white-hot haze of pleasure and pain.You don't let go. You keep his thighs locked wide, your fingers tracing the trembling lines of his quads and the dip of his waist, feeling the violent shudders racking his muscular body. You lean in close to his ear, your voice a harsh, needy whisper. " You Take him so well Sannie, sucking every inch of him. The way your hole swallows woos cock is so sexy." you praise, your words fueling the fire. "Look how perfectly you take him. I bet you can feel him all the way in your tummy, cant you baby? Doesn’t it feel so good? Just like you made me feel good, baby. " You reminded him of how he fucked you stupid just earlier that night. Wooyoung doesn't slow down. Now that he's buried deep, he begins to fuck San’s overstimulated ass with a relentless, punishing pace. There is no rhythm, only a brutal assault of hip against ass, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing like wet slaps through the room. Every thrust is a hammer blow, driving deep and hard, hitting the same weak spots your fingers had just been tormenting. San is completely undone. He’s sobbing, his voice reduced to broken, rhythmic gasps that sync with every heavy thud of Wooyoung’s hips. His fingers claw uselessly at the sheets, his toes curling as his internal muscles clench desperately around the invading shaft, milking Wooyoung with every frantic spasm. He is nothing more than a shaking, sobbing mess of raw nerves, his body reacting violently to the friction. "Fuck, you're so tight," Wooyoung pants, his pace accelerating into a blurring frenzy. He reaches forward, you release sans thighs so wooyoung can grab San’s hips and digging his fingers in anchoring him still. The intensity is overwhelming. San’s hips jerk upward instinctively, trying to meet the brutal force, his breath coming in short, sharp hitches. He is drowning in it. Wooyoung’s laughter is a cruel, melodic sound, echoing in the room as he slows his pace just enough to savor the sight of San’s total collapse. He doesn't pull out; instead, he stays buried deep, his cock pulsing inside San’s overstimulated hole while he leans over, staring down at the pathetic, leaking state of San’s member. "Look at it," Wooyoung sneers, his voice dripping with bratty amusement. "Still dripping. Just a soft, useless little faucet. You're so fucking broken you can't even get a hard-on while I'm splitting you open. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."
Despite the haze of subspace and the sensory overload that has turned his brain to mush, a flicker of consciousness returns to San. He feels the cold air on his skin and hears the mockery, and suddenly, a wave of intense shame washes over him. His face, already flushed from exertion and pleasure, burns a deeper, brighter crimson. In a desperate, instinctive move to shield himself from the judgment, San tries to clamp his thighs together, attempting to close his legs and hide his leaking, soft cock from your view. The movement is weak, a trembling effort, but it’s an act of defiance against the exposure. You don't tolerate it. With a swiftness born of raw desire and dominance, your hand comes down hard across his inner thigh. The sound of the slap is sharp and loud, echoing through the room. San lets out a startled, high-pitched yelp, his body jolting violently. For a heartbeat, the imprint of your fingers appears in stark, ghostly white against his flushed skin, before the blood rushes back, turning the mark into a beautiful, angry, glowing red handprint. "Don't you dare try and hide," you scold him, your voice low and stern, leaving no room for argument. "Keep your legs spread wide open. I want to see every single drop leaking out of you. I want to see exactly how ruined you are." San shudders, a sob breaking from his throat, but the shock of the slap and the authority in your voice snap him back into obedience. He doesn't fight you again. Instead, he whimpers, his muscles trembling as he forces his thighs apart even wider than before, exposing his raw, gaping hole and his dripping, soft cock completely to the light and your hungry gaze. The moment he complies, your demeanor shifts. Your hand, which had just delivered a punishing blow, returns to the red mark on his thigh. You begin to rub the flushed skin in slow, soothing circles, your palm warm against his heat. The contrast—the violence of the slap followed by the tenderness of the touch—sends a fresh wave of tremors through him. "Good boy," you whisper, your voice now a honeyed caress that vibrates against his skin. " I’m sorry I was mean sannie, you just look to pretty. Look at how well you listen. I love it when you're this helpless, San. I love you so much baby." San lets out a broken moan, his head lolling back against the mattress. He is caught in a whirlwind of shame and adoration, his body twitching under your touch while Wooyoung begins to grind his hips again, feeling San’s internal muscles clench in a desperate, needy response to the praise. He is completely undone, a shaking mess of red skin and leaking fluids, utterly surrendered to the two of you. Your palm continues to glide over the angry, red welt on San’s inner thigh, the soothing circles acting as a cruel tease. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the muscle beneath twitching with every breath he takes. He is leaning into your touch, a broken, whimpering sound vibrating in his chest, completely addicted to the cycle of punishment and praise. He loves the marks you leave; he craves the evidence of your ownership etched into his muscular frame. But the tenderness is only a prelude. Without warning, you shift your weight and bring your hand across his opposite thigh, digging your nails across his sensitive skin. Leaving more of your marks San lets out a strangled, high-pitched cry, his back arching off the bed. Instead of pulling away, the pain triggers a violent, desperate reaction deep inside him. His internal muscles, already sensitized and raw, clamp down on Wooyoung’s cock with an agonizingly tight grip. He clenches around the intruder with a strength born of pure overstimulation, his body shaking with a mixture of shock and ecstatic agony. "Fuck, San!" Wooyoung growls, his voice thick with lust as he feels the crushing pressure of San’s walls. "You like that, don't you? You fucking love it when she marks you." Wooyoung watched as you praised San so diligently as you soothed the skin you just marked.
Wooyoung doesn't let up. Sensing San’s peak, he shifts his angle, driving his hips forward with a focused, grinding intensity. He finds it that precise, hidden spot deep inside San’s prostate and hammers into it with relentless, rhythmic precision. The effect is instantaneous. San’s eyes roll back into his head, his vision flashing a blinding, stark white. He isn't just feeling pleasure; he is being dismantled. His voice breaks into a series of pornographic, high-pitched moans, sounds of total surrender that fill the room. He is sobbing now, his chest heaving, his mind completely blank as Wooyoung continues to grind against that singular, shattering point of no return. "Please... I can't... Wooyoung, please!" San wails, his voice thin and desperate, his body vibrating with a frequency that seems almost electric. Then, the breaking point hits. As Wooyoung delivers one final, deep, punishing grind against his spot, San’s body convulses violently. He isn't hard, his cock remains flaccid and pathetic, but the intensity of the anal stimulation forces a raw, visceral reaction. A fountain of clear, translucent liquid suddenly sprays from his soft member, spewing in erratic bursts across his own stomach and thighs. The sight is utterly debauched. San is squirting, his body shaking in the throes of a prostate-driven orgasm that leaves him completely breathless. He is leaking from both ends, his muscles still spasming and clenching around Wooyoung’s dick in rhythmic, desperate pulses. The visual of the muscular, dominant man reduced to a sobbing, spraying mess beneath you both is intoxicating. Wooyoung lets out a guttural moan, his own pace becoming frantic as he feels San’s walls milking him with every shuddering sob. He watches the clear fluid splatter against San’s red-marked skin, his eyes dark with a predatory hunger.
"Look at you," Wooyoung pants, his voice a rasping whisper. "Squirting like a little slut without even being touched. You're so fucking ruined, San." San can only moan, a broken, airy sound, as he sinks deeper into the mattress, his limbs heavy and twitching, his mind lost in the white noise of a pleasure so intense it feels like pain. He lies there, exposed and dripping, his skin a map of red marks and sweat, utterly claimed. You can’t resist the sight of him—this muscular, powerful man reduced to a shaking, leaking ruin. As San lies there, his chest heaving and his eyes glazed with the remnants of that shattering prostate orgasm, you lean down. Your tongue darts out, tasting the salt and heat of his skin. You start with his abs, licking the clear, translucent fluid that has splattered across his toned stomach, savoring the sticky, metallic tang of his arousal. You move lower, your mouth enveloping his flaccid, twitching cock. He isn't hard, but he is hypersensitive, every flick of your tongue sending a fresh jolt through his nervous system. You lap at the head of his member, greedily drinking the remaining drops of clear liquid that leak from him. It tastes hot and salty, a concentrated essence of his surrender. San lets out a broken, high-pitched whimper, his hips twitching weakly against the mattress as you suckle him, your tongue swirling around the slit to clean every single drop of his leaking seed. Behind him, Wooyoung is reaching his own breaking point. The way San’s overstimulated walls are milking him, combined with the sight of you worshipping San’s pathetic, soft dick, pushes him over the edge.
Wooyoung’s breath comes in ragged, guttural gasps, his fingers digging bruisingly into San’s hips to lock him in place. "I'm... I'm gonna fill you, San," Wooyoung growls, his voice a raw, animalistic rasp. Wooyoung delivers a series of brutal, deep thrusts, his cock bottoming out with a heavy, wet thud. San’s body jolts, his back arching as he feels Wooyoung’s thickness stretching him to the absolute limit. The friction is intense, the sound of their slick skin slapping together filling the room with a filthy, rhythmic cadence. With a final, violent surge, Wooyoung lets out a loud, guttural roar. He slams himself as deep as possible, pinning San to the sheets, and begins to cum. You can feel the vibrations of his release through San’s trembling body. Wooyoung’s cock pulses violently inside San’s stretched, abused hole, spilling thick, hot ropes of seed deep into the most vulnerable part of him. He pumps again and again, flooding San’s womb-like depths with his heavy load, claiming him in the most primal way possible. San shudders violently, a long, sobbing moan escaping his lips as he feels the heat of the ejaculation filling him up. He is completely undone, his mind a blank slate of pleasure and exhaustion. He goes limp beneath you, his muscles finally relaxing, though he continues to twitch sporadically from the sheer level of overstimulation. You pull back from his cock, leaving him glistening and wet, and look up at his face. San is sobbing softly, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, his expression one of total, blissful devastation. He is a broken mess of a man, drenched in sweat, marked by your marks, and filled to the brim with Wooyoung’s seed. As Wooyoung slowly begins to slump forward, still buried deep inside San’s leaking ass, you lean over and press a tender kiss to San’s flushed cheek then wooyoung. They are both utterly spent. The air is stagnant, smelling of raw sex and desperation, but as you breathe it in, you feel a profound sense of peace. The violence of the last few hours has evaporated, leaving behind a heavy, humming silence. You can feel the rhythmic thrum of two different heartbeats against your skin—San’s erratic, fluttering pulse and Wooyoung’s slowing, steady beat. All three of you are trembling, the aftershocks of multiple, brutal orgasms still rippling through your muscles like electricity. You shift your weight slightly, wrapping your arms as far as they can go around both men. You pull San closer to your chest, your fingers digging into his sweat-soaked shoulder, while your other arm drapes over Wooyoung’s broad back. You hold them tight, anchoring them in this sticky, filthy mess. San lets out a final, shuddering sob, his head lolling back against the pillow, his eyes half-closed and glazed with a lingering, blissful haze. He clings to you with a weak, needy grip, his fingers curling into your skin as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear now that he’s been completely broken. "So... good..." San mumbles, the words barely a breath, his voice a wrecked whisper. Wooyoung lets out a low, satisfied grunt, his face buried in the crook of San’s neck. He doesn't move, his cock still buried deep and pulsing inside San, acting as a warm plug for the seed he just pumped into him. The intimacy is raw and unfiltered, a tangle of limbs and fluids that feels more honest than anything you've ever experienced. Slowly, the ragged gasps for air fade into deep, synchronized breathing.
The adrenaline that had fueled the assault drains away, replaced by an overwhelming, bone-deep exhaustion. Your eyelids grow heavy, the world blurring at the edges as the warmth of the two men acts like a sedative. You don't care about the stained sheets, or the way the cum is beginning to cool and dry on your skin. None of it matters. As you drift toward the edge of consciousness, your mind wanders to the door of the room. A flicker of anxiety sparks—the thought of a manager, a teammate, or anyone else walking in to find the three of you in this depraved, tangled heap of limbs and leaking holes. You imagine the shock on their faces, the scandal of the scene. But as sleep finally claims you, pulling you down into a dark, heavy void, your last conscious thought is a desperate, selfish hope: that nobody disturbs this filthy, intimate collapse. You want to stay right here, buried in the scent of them, locked in this raw, ruined sanctuary until the world forgets you exist.
A/N this was the most fun to write and i definitely want to explore the Remus and Sirius dynamic further, maybe do some fluff when Kinktober is over
WC- 1450
This is NSFW do not even think about reading this if you are under 18, if you do Santa will gift you coal for Christmas
Summary- Remus and Sirius are late home from work, even late for dinner so to make it to you they ‘take you to Paris’ for the night.
The kitchen lights were dim as I rinsed the dishes from dinner, the chicken Alfredo leaving an aroma of garlic and Parmesan through the downstairs of the cottage. However, the vanilla candle sought to overpower it.
“You're late” I said as Remus and Sirius made their way through the door. “Dinner is on the stovetop, I will be upstairs in my room” I shoved past them and headed for the staircase.
“Fuck” I heard Sirius grumble as I hit the landing. I don’t know why I was so mad, I knew they were out on order duties, but I at least expected them to be home on time for dinner.
However, I'm not exactly their girlfriend so I can’t be mad at all. Our arrangement was simple, while we lived in the safe house together, we couldn’t exactly hit the bars to find a one night stands so we decided we were friends with benefits, we could explore our sexuality and kinkier sides under the roof of the cottage and after we could go back to our normal a lives, but after six months of cuddling on the sofa, eating around the table, confiding about our emotions and fucking on every piece of furtinure in the place someone is bound to develop feelings.
Part of me was tempted to put on the red sheer lingerie set that drove both of them insane, then walk downstairs swaying my ass and make them sit there for hours not allowing them to touch me, but that would be torture for all of us. Before I could finish contemplating my revenge I heard a soft knock on the door.
” Darling please let us in” I heard Sirius’s soft apology
“We know we should have owled or even sent a floo message” Remus opened the door and leaned against the frame, arms folded just so he could flex his biceps knowing it would turn me on.
“Don’t apologise, I have no reason to be upset” I huffed, resting against the headboard. “It's just, with the state of the world and the work you're doing, anything could happen to you two, so when you’re late my head just goes straight to the worst of it.”
”You have every reason to be upset, and we are complete idiots for not keeping you updated” Sirius said, sitting next to me, he pushed the stray strands of my hair behind my ear and trailed his fingers down my neck.
“We truly are sorry, let us make it up to you” Remus said to my left, sandwiching me between the pair of them, gently kissing my cheek.
”fine, but this doesn’t mean I fully forgive you,” I smiled as Sirius’s hand fell from my neck and down to my breasts, squeezing them through my hoodie as Remus left sloppy kisses down my neck, trailing them down my stomach and then to my hips, undoing the knot from my Pajama shorts and pulling them down just enough so he could move his hands freely
”no underwear today?” He smiled as his fingers found my clit, circling it slowly
” Bold choice” Sirius smiled as he leaned in to kiss me, he pulled my bottom lip through his teeth his hand had moved under my jumper and toyed with my nipple, pinching just enough to elicit a moan.
I’d always assumed it would be overwhelming having the affection of two people, two sets of hands roaming my body, two mouths to leave trails of kisses, but it's perfect, no part of my body left cold at night, and two ways of being satisfied at the same time.
Remus pulled away from my clit, but before I could whine I felt his finger fill my hole, slowly stretching me out, readying me for him. He added another whilst Sirius moved under my hoodie, placing my tit in his mouth, lapping at my nipple and still keeping a hold of the other. I was high on ecstasy, spreading my legs wider and wider, as Remus pumped his fingers in and out. I didn’t even realise when he pulled them out until I looked up and saw him lick one of them clean.
“Want a taste?” He asked Sirius who had pulled his head out from under my hoodie, Sirius’s answer was to open his mouth wide as Remus placed his index finger on Sirius’s tongue, it was almost pornographic as he looked up at Remus, hearing the subtle pop as his finger left his mouth.
“On your knees, Bent over,” Remus whispered in my ear, as he pulled off my jumper. I did as he said, I settled myself near the edge of the bed as Remus stood behind me and Sirius settled himself in front of me, on his knees. I helped him undo his belt and the buttons of his trousers, helping to spring his cock free, it was about an inch or two shorter them remus’s but the girth made up for it, I used one arm to support myself as the other found the base of his cock, Remus came back around to watch the show, he spat on his hand and gave Sirius a few warm up pumps, then dropped it, leaving the work to me. I tugged gently to guide him into my mouth, starting with a few kitten licks on my tip, the taste of his pre cum was warm on my tongue as I purposefully placed my mouth over his slit, moving down the the underside, giving it a gentle kiss before placing as much as I could in my mouth, I felt him hit the back on my throat causing me to gag slightly, his groans were rough as he toyed with my hair gripping it to match my pace. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Remus with his trousers pooled beneath him, his cock in his hand, stroking slowly, enjoying the show. I slid his cock out of my mouth, my hands sufficing as I moved under him, putting his balls in my mouth, knowing that was his weak point, I felt a dip in the bed behind me as Remus spread my ass cheeks using his tip to toy with my hole, gathering the slick and pushing at back in as he entered, launching me forward and back into Sirius cock.
It took a second or two for them to find the right rhythm. Remus teased, pushing himself inch by inch. Every time he thrust into me, I swallowed Sirius back up. They worked in tandem, Sirius gripped my hair tight, practically face fucking me as I hollowed my cheeks, allowing me to take more of his length until I could feel his tip at the back of my throat. Remus was slightly hunched over, his arm wrapped around me, partially for support but mostly to rub circles over my clit. I could have sworn I heard them high five but I was too cock drunk to fully comprehend anything other than my own pleasure. Remus was finally hitting deep enough to reach my cervix, every time he pulled out he grazed my G-spot, leaving me on the brink of an orgasm. The old bed squeaked beneath us, rocking to our quickened pace as the boys could tell I was reaching my orgasm. Remus moved so that one leg was on the mattress the other remained planted on the floor, allowing him to dive deeper into my pussy. My muffled moans filled the room as I felt Sirius begin to leak in my mouth, his cum spurting to the back of my throat, i swallowed what I could but the rest was dribbling down my chin as he cried out
“cum for me” Remus breathed in my ear, my pussy was clenching around his cock, throbbing, waiting for my release. Remus left hickies along my shoulder as I screamed, following my orgasm through, refusing to let this feeling go. As I was coming down from my high, I felt Remus’s cum inside of me, his final thrusts slowing as I felt the warm slick drip down my thighs, a mixture of mine and his. He stayed in there as he pulled me down into the bed, spooning me and Sirius grabbed the cloth off the nightstand, wiping what remained on my chin, and whatever he could from between my legs. He flung it over his shoulder landing in the mess of clothes on the floor.
“After that, I'm starving” Remus smiled into my neck, peppering warm and soft kisses.
”I did tell you, chicken Alfredo is on the stove” I laughed as Sirius threw a blanket over the three of us.
A/N would any want some wlw with lily Evan’s for this Kinktober?
Summary: soulmate au, Jason dies and reader's soul latches onto Dick for comfort bring your tissues, not my usual writing style
warnings: blood, conon typ' violence, rejection, soul sickness (soulmates au ) angst, hurt little comfort, Jason dies but he comes back, fever, Jason being an ass Dick being a softy
A/N: I do not own dc this is short, might become a series might stay a drabble lmk what ya think
She didn't know how she ended up in Gotham, she'd just hopped a bus to get away, get out from under her parent's thumb. It wasn't a nice place, she should have paid closer attention to the glowing red sign stating the location. There was a slight tug on her soul, that ever present tightness when you go without your soulmate, and she hadn't even found them yet. Surely they must be here though by the way her heart started to sing. She stopped off the bus readjusting her backpack and gazed up just in time to see batman and Robin fly. Her soul ached to the point of tears. She ran and ran, trying to catch the duo, surely he could feel it, surely this all consuming love and hope wasn't just on her end but he kept getting away. He was running from her, and the clear rejection sent a knife through her heart and she let out a scream, dropping to her knees in pain. The small string that had been tight her entire life fell slack. Loose inside her like he'd let go of his end.
He didn't come back.
The pain didn't die down, never so much as eased. She wondered the streets of Gotham, alone and in pain begging for her soulmate. Crying into the void for him to just pull back on his end, please just tighten the string, he didn't need to pull it closer, just get rid of the slack between them.
He ignored her.
So she dug, and dug until she found the name Dick Grayson and an apartment number in bludhaven. It took two days to work up the nerve to knock on his door.
"Hello," he asked, with wary eyes. She knew what she looked like.
"Your brother is my soulmate and he dropped the bond and I think I might die without him." He just stared at her.
"Please," she added. He stepped aside to let her in and busied himself making tea for them both. She sat on the ground to avoid dirtying his couch. He sat on the floor with her.
"He's mia at the moment sorry." And he was, she could feel it coming off of him in waves.
"That's ok, I've made it this long." The tea fell to the floor when she felt the string tug, tighter and tighter in her chest until it snapped. And she screamed. Screamed and thrashed and cursed. She was faintly aware of arms around her but they weren't his, they would never be his. He was dead, she could feel it. The pain radiating through her entire body like an explosion. She screamed until her throat no longer worked, until her eyes started to close and her body gave up against the pain.
"He's gone," she whispered before giving in and letting the darkness embrace her. Dick rocked her back and forth until his own tears stopped.
Bruce didn't call. Dick was floored. A teammate gave their condolences.
Its rare, so rare in fact its considered legend that if a bond is broken in death a new one can from between the living and someone close to the deceased.
The snapped string hung around her heart like an anchor. A new one formed a loose knot and she latched onto it like a vice. Sobbing in agony over the loss and gain.
Dick was shocked when he felt the pull. The crying girl (because she was years younger than him, the age of his brother he assumed) seemed to glow and the string around his own heart yanked as she pulled on it desperate for connection, she pulled and pulled while he resisted. Finally she relented and the string stayed taut before falling slack. A second rejection would kill her, so he scooped up the string and did some yanking of his own. Dick had never felt a soulmate, he assumed he just wasn't close enough to meeting them to ever feel the pull. But now he understood. His job was to keep her alive. The bond felt odd once it settled into place. He felt warm and content even through his grief.
He called Alfred a week later to ask about coming home. He couldn't get her to eat, he didn't trust her to be alone.
Alfred said no.
Six months after Jason's death she woke up screaming. Nightmares ever since. She won't talk to him about them.
A scrawny kid came to his door demanding he become Robin again, he felt the bond inside him ache.
Tim was a great Robin.
Dick was proud of the kid, he went to Gotham when he could desperate to do it right this time.
Bruce refused to meet his bonded she said it was fine.
He visited less as her pain grew. Even going to work he could feel her clawing at the string, terrified it would disappear too. He would tug back, he would always tug back. Then he would text her and ask if he needed to come home. She always said no.
The red hood hurt Tim. His bonded was waking up screaming each night. He took her to manner, he and Bruce had gotten on better terms. Bruce seemed to like the girl, she was twenty now, to Dick's twenty-seven. Against his better judgement over the last year he's fallen in love with her. She knows, she can feel it through the bond, she replies with hesitant love, he can accept that.
Jason Todd is alive. His brother and the original soul mate of his bonded is alive and seething in front of them. Y/n was shaking, silent tears running down her face and the string inside him burned from her insistent tugging. He tried to tug back but she wasn't paying attention to him.
"Why the fuck are you holding my soulmate." Jason was tied up in the cave riding out pit madness when Dick and y/n had gone down to see what all the commotion was. Bruce and Tim stood off to the side, Tim still in a few casts but walking with a crutch.
"You died," she said softly pulling away from Dick and slowly making her way to him.
"Yeah, and you're fucking my brother."
"Don't talk to her like that," Dick seethed yanking her back to him and behind him.
"I'm not," she squeaked.
"I can feel you panicking, the string..." Jay trailed off, he wasn't used to the feelings being so strong from proximity. He's been able to stay far enough away it only ached, this felt worse than the pit. His skin burned to touch hers, his entire being was raw with need. He could faintly, like a whisper, feel his brother mixed into the bond. His claim over her clear even through Jason's green filled mind, his soulmate wasn't his. And didn't that hurt like a bitch.
"You died. I tried to find you and you ran away and then you died. I would have died without your brother," she begged him to understand but the words meant less coming from behind the protection of said brother.
"How long have you two been a thing?"
"That's none of your-"
"We've been romantic for less than a year but bonded since the night you died," she filled him in ignoring Dick's protest. She owed him the truth even if he had stayed away for so long.
"So you didn't feel me claw out of my grave," he accused with venom.
"I thought it was phantom. I-I looked I swear I did. I dug up your grave by hand, it was untouched...the coffin," she paused to fight the bile in her throat," the coffin had a body in it. I'm sorry I didn't get it dna tested." She couldn't deal with this, even now she could feel him letting go of the string, rejecting her. Dick's pull only became tighter and she fell back onto his familiar strength.
"Jason, why didn't you come to her," Bruce asked. He couldn't fathom staying away from Selena.
"Don't you people get it? I'm a monster!"
"And why not before! I followed you as Robin, chased you endlessly through the streets, screaming in agony over you and you fucking left me there! You let go of the bond not me, fuck you!"
"Did it ever occur to you I did you a favor. Did it hurt when I died?"
"How fucking dare you," she screamed storming over to him and taking his head up by his hair to glare into his green haze of eyes.
"Imagine how it would have felt if we'd been together, I saved you needless pain-"
"That's not fair, I felt everything damn you, every hit, cracked bone, broken skin, beaten flesh, I fucking burned when the bomb went off, so don't you think for one second that it made it better!"
"I didn't know that," he conceded, unable to drop his head in shame from her grip on his hair.
"You died, and you left me. You came back and you still left me. My soul couldn't take it, when you died, it clung to Dick's and his clung back. He is mine and I am his. There's no changing that but dammit Jason I can fucking feel you letting go of me again. I almost didn't survive it the first time, it fucking hurts don't you get that." She was shaking him now, both hands on his shoulders and willing the sense to get knocked into him.
He tugged on the string. She tugged back. And faintly they both felt Dick tug on his.
"I gotta share you don't I," Jason said quietly.
"You didn't even want me. You hurt me beyond words. Either share me or fuck off. I can't take it again."
Dick didn't wanna share, he wanted to wrap her into his heart and never let her leave, but after finally getting Jason back he couldn't do that to her. He was the third wheel, he came second, he knew that but when she turned to look at him, nothing but love in her eyes, he didn't care.
___
It was awkward, sharing a room and a girlfriend with his brother. But Dick was already a touchy feely person and he'd been smothering Y/n in affection for years, there was no way the bond would let them go too long without physical contact. Oddly enough the bond between he and Jason craved nearly the same. His brother would hug him at random then look annoyed with himself, he would go to grab Y/n then backtrack like he wasn't allowed. Y/n of course noticed and would drag them both to the nearest couch, shove them down onto it and lay across them both until the bond was satisfied.
Dick had to go back to bludhaven to tie up some loose ends. You know like quitting his job. The second he was in the car headed to the train he felt it, the little tug on his string, he tugged back, and received two text messages wishing him well, and telling him to hurry up. The first day was tolerable, sucky but ok. The second he woke up with a fever and a quick call confirmed both his bonds in the same state. Day three he felt and looked like death. The near constant tugging on his string when he was trying to eat lunch forced him to excuse himself to make a call.
"It hurts," Y/n wailed through the line, not so much as a hello.
"I know baby. But you've got Jay and-"
"No! s'not the same, please I can't-" she cut herself off with a sob and the string in his heart was pulled so tight he nearly had a heart attack.
"Baby, where's Jay, go sit with him it'll make it better." Like he felt any better, he didn't have anyone to ease the ache.
"He's not here. I can't-Dick please, it hurts!" She kept pulling on the string tapping out freaking Morse code for sos and he couldn't take her anguish anymore.
"Give me an hour." He marched into his bosses office, and quit, screw his two weeks. He didn't even stop at his apartment for his bag, he was on a train and tugging quick 'i love you's' into the string. Jason was getting punched. The hell did he go, he knew she needed care. Her side of the bond had always been stronger, which he found odd since he himself was emotional but whatever he was feeling she got twice or three times as much so if the headache behind his eyes was anything to go by she was going through an agonizing migraine. To be fair they hadn't gone longer than 24 hours without touching each other since Jason died, even when he was patrolling he would always have to swing by to ease the ache in his chest a few times throughout the night. She was used to not feeling Jay, but she couldn't handle not feeling him.
The manor was empty, eerily so, but he didn't have time to dwell the string was still tugging, but it was coming farther and farther apart like she didn't have the energy anymore. He took the steps three at a time, curse long legged people, and made it to their shared room in under a minuted. No y/n.
"Y/n," he called though the halls, tugging at the string in worry.
Your room-Honeypumpkin
He frowned at that but hurried down the hall to his old room. She was laying on top of his blankets, in a pair of his boxers and Jay's shirt practically sweating through the mattress.
"Shit baby," he muttered placing his hand on her forehead. She was beyond burning up. She made a low keening sound at the contact but the fever stayed. He shucked out of his work clothes and curled himself around her. His soul buzzing in joy at the contact. She smiled at him and he was a gentle 'thankyou' tug on the string. she went to sleep and he texted Alfred wondering where the hell Jason was. Out. Is what the butler replied, and Dick had known him long enough to know that one word held more disappointment than imaginable.
At some point he fell asleep, and was woken up by a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.
"Master Dick, I have brought some supplies."
"Thanks, Alf, she still have a fever?"
He hhmed and stuck a thermometer in her mouth, disturbingly she didn't budge.
"104, we need to get her in an ice bath I'm afraid."
"We need Jason to not be a piece of shit and leave her like this," he seethed standing up to scoop her into his arms.
"I'm afraid they had a fight and Master Todd stormed off," Alfred supplied, leading the way to the cave, where there was medical supplies more equipped. Though nothing could stop soul sickness but the touch of the one who hurt you, isn't that great.
"So he hurt her, again. If I didn't know it would mess her up I'd kill him again." They were quick but not urgent in their treatment, Dick cursed the air black and blue as he lowered them both in a tub of ice water. He didn't have a fever but if he stopped touching her the sickness would worsen he was sure. He kept tugging at Jason's string but the little fucker never answered so he asked Alfred to call and hand him the phone.
"Listen here you little shit," he said in favor of a hello.
"Uh oh."
"Yeah fucking uh oh, get your ass back here, I don't care if it's in one piece or not or so help me I will send a super or a speedster for your ass," he demanded then hung up.
"103," Alfred praised as Dick got them both out of the tub. He dried her off but left her in her wet clothes (hello boundaries) he would call one of the girls in a minute for help. In the time that it took him to get himself dry and in warm clothes her temp had gone up to 105 and sweat was pouring off of her.
"Shit," he exclaimed practically throwing himself onto the bed with her. He wrapped himself around her and pulled reassuringly on his string but she didn't pull back.
"Fuck fuck fuck, she always pulls back, even when she's asleep!"
He tried again, this time tugging out 'i love you's' over and over until he felt a reply. 'k' came a week tug and he nearly sobbed in relief.
"K, I tell you I love you and you say k," he asked her sleeping form.
104* (I cant find the degrees symbol)
Jason was back, Dick could hear his bike. He tugged at his string, Jason tugged back.
"What happened?"
"What happened is that she can't keep taking your rejection, she's sensitive and the bond makes it stronger," Dick explained, brushing her hair back.
"I'm sorry she didn't..."
"What tell you that you were ripping out her soul and killing her, well fuck you!"
"What do I do," he asked wringing his hands in rare uncertainty.
"Just touch her, tug on your string, she likes it. Three long pulls means 'i love you'." Jason grabbed her hand and gave the string three long tugs, over and over and over again until his real hands felt rope burned.
101*
She still wasn't awake, but she wasn't at risk of dying on them so Dick told Jason to 'hit the fucking shower you stink' and meet them in their room. Alfred trailed behind holding her IV bag, but made no move to keep her in the medical wing, after all the only cure was well...hugs, and soul string tugs. Which both Jason and Dick were taking turns doing, until it felt like a dance.
"What do you think he meant by using the guidance of the pendants?" Aurora asked, she was perched on Ratchet's shoulder plating as he studied the pendants.
"From the look of it, im not too sure." Ratchet said, subconsciously leaning his helm into the feeling of her palm against his audials.
"They look like the pendants the others in that one photo were wearing, could he be referencing for me to ask their spirits?" Aurora asked.
Ratchet pondered this for a moment.
"It's very well possible they may have died before Thermos, and their sparks, being pledged to him in undying loyalty, may be waiting to be awakened by the heir of their pack." Ratchet said.
"But how you'd activate them is beyond me."
Aurora furrows her brows.
"What if that energon in my system was meant to help me activate them? I mean, I didn't die when it was in my system it just shocked my nervous system because I'd never touched or ingested it before." Aurora contemplated out loud.
Ratchet hummed, before a risky idea came to mind.
"We could test it, but Optimus would need to approve it.." He pondered.
"I got this." She said, pulling her phone out and texting the Prime.
"When did you get his comm link?" Ratchet asked.
"When Daniel broke into June's house." She told him, typing out her message.
He doesn't respond and Aurora catches on.
"Ratchet?"
"Hm."
"I don't have my own comm link, can I have yours?"
Ratchet sputters before Aurora could feel the heat radiate from his face plates. Aurora smirked, knowing she'd flustered the poor medic.
"I- wha- uh- f-fine." He stammered before reading her his link number when she was ready.
"Made ya blush." Aurora teases, making Ratchet's blush intensify.
"Shut it." He grumbled as Optimus emerged from the hall, a very slight smirk pulling at his derma.
"You needed something, Aurora?" The Prime's deep baritone voice rumbled, both Aurora and Ratchet suppressing a shiver.
"I- uh- um- i- yeah-." Aurora stammered, guessing it was karma for making Ratchet flustered.
She nudged Ratchet to explain, and the medic quickly knocks himself out of his stupor and stutters for a moment before finally finding his bearings.
"Aurora- she thinks the pendants might- might hold the spirits of her sire's pack- but can't activate them without energon in her system." Ratchet explains, and Optimus hums.
"You... want to put energon back in her system?" Optimus questions.
"Only a little bit at first, given how my body and mind reacted when it formed naturally." Aurora answers for Ratchet, her hand gliding down from his audial to his gray neck cables.
Optimus nods solemnly.
"Have you spoken with Daniel yet?" Optimus asked, and Aurora shook her head.
"Not yet. Fowler is locating Korinthia so they can be questioned at the same time so we can find any lies and they can't communicate beforehand." She tells him and he nods in thought.
"Wait until she questions her foster parentals, and then you can try the energon infusion. Until then, I'll be going energon scouting." Optimus said, and Aurora perked up at that. It'd been a few days since she'd spent time with any of the bots outside the base.
"Can I go? It's only scouting." Aurora asked, and beamed when he nodded.
♡- -♡
Optimus and Aurora had left Nevada state limits a while prior, Aurora's phone was plugged into the aux, and her playlist played at a soft volume as they sped down a highway. Optimus's holoform was activated, left hand on the steering wheel and right hand resting on the center console.
His black hair was fluffy and laid to the left, his curls tempting Aurora to run her fingers through them. His blue eyes were stern and almost didn't fit on his almost puppy like face full of freckles. He perfectly fit the role of a pretty boy.
A silver wedding band rested on his left ring finger, and Aurora smiled at the small detail.
"You and Ratchet are cute together." She commented randomly, and the Prime's stern dark blue gaze tore itself away from the road to meet her mismatched eyes.
A small smile teased his pale lips.
"You think so?" He asked, the smile turning into a small smirk.
Aurora could feel her cheeks alight with a small flame and she looked away to hide the blush.
"Yeah, you guys seem to have the type of relationship I could only hope for." She said, her left hand rubbing her right wrist.
"Ratchet mentioned you're poly? What does that mean?" He questioned.
"Polyamory is just a practice or desire for more than one partner or spouse." Aurora explained simply.
The Prime nodded.
"That is actually quite common on Cybertron. It's considered rare to only have one sparkmate." Optimus said.
"Really? So you and Ratchet are like a rare union." Aurora commented.
Optimus nodded, the smirk returning to a soft smile.
"Though, both of us long for our shared mate." He says, and after that they fall silent for a while.
-♡
The next day, Aurora sat in English when her phone buzzed on the desk. She lifted it and opened the lockscreen to see messages in the autobot group chat Miko had made that morning, and some messages from Ratchet, and a message from Fowler.
The groupchat made her snicker quietly as Miko was whining because she'd recieved another detention, the messages from Ratchet were kinda cute.
~
Docbot: The base is cold.
Aurora: Ratchet, you're a cybertronian. Cold doesn't effect you unless it's subzero and it's never subzero there.
Docbot: my shoulder is cold.
Aurora: omg. You're so clingy.
Docbot: sue me -_-
Aurora: PFT I'll be there after my EMT lecture, you'll survive.
Docbot: you're mean.
Aurora: You can pick me up if you want.
Docbot: fine.
Aurora: ok, Fowler texted me.
Docbot: he's actually calling the base.
Aurora: hah. Goodluck.
~
Aurora smiled and a small blush found itself warming her face at the playful banter between her and Ratchet.
She opened Fowler's message, noting that he'd told her to sign out of school early and he'd already spoken to her EMT teacher.
Aurora slid her phone into the back pocket of her black ripped jeans and put her notebook and pencil back in her book bag.
"I didn't say to pack up yet, miss Jameson." The English teacher, Mr. Rodriguez said.
Mr. Rodriguez hadn't liked Aurora since she had refused to have a non-professional relationship with him, but he couldn't fail her if she got perfect scores on everything.
"I'm leaving school." Aurora spoke up, fear was beginning to crawl up her spine, he'd harassed her before and wasn't against doing it in a class full of students.
"Well, I'm sure it can wait until I'm done." He said, glaring at Aurora.
Aurora bites her lip, pulling her phone out and pulling up Fowler's contact.
~
Aurora: My teacher won't let me leave class.
Fowler: which teacher? Why?
Aurora: Mr. Rodriguez, he's been harassing me because I won't sleep with him for a grade.
Fowler: I'll be waiting outside, Prime is coming in. His human name is Orion.
Aurora: got it. Thx Fowler.
Fowler: Anytime Aurora.
~
A few moments later, the classroom door opens, revealing Optimus. He wore nice jeans with a black button up. His curly hair was slicked back nicely. Aurora found it decently hard not to drool over his appearance.
The principal was with him, and Optimus didn't look quite happy.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" Mr. Rodriguez asked, displeased that he'd been interrupted.
"I believe miss Jameson needs to leave school?" The principal asked.
Optimus crossed his arms. Both him and Mr. Rodriguez had a stare down until the teacher broke his gaze, the Prime's dominance outweighed his own.
Optimus made eye contact with Aurora and snapped his fingers, causing Aurora to get up and sling her bag over her shoulder and go to stand next to him.
"You'll be lucky if I don't come for your job, Mr. Rodriguez." Optimus said simply as he took Aurora's bag and looped his arm around her waist just above her rear.
The contact made Aurora blush brightly, and squeak lightly when he squeezed lightly and began to lead her to the school doors.
Suprise! I wrote something! What’s better than one demon boyfriend, you ask? Two demon boyfriends, duh. I started this literal months ago, and I’m not going to lie, it's very self indulgent and porny. My praise kink is clear and in full swing. I was going to make one of the characters a hard core brat but he turned soft, what can I say. Anyways, I hope you guys like this! This is a link to my Ko-Fi, everything is appreciated but nothing is expected. <3
Life has been going great for you. Too great, really. You landed a well paying job in a cute small town named Talon Valley. You found the cottage of your dreams in the forest a few miles out of town. It was perfectly desolate and had a garden already set up in the back, as well as shelves that will work perfectly to store your potions. You already picked a great altar space, as well. It was your first time living alone, and you were excited to finally practice your craft in peace.
Except there was no peace, and you soon discovered you were not alone. At first, the misplaced items didn’t phase you. You were still unpacking and you really didn’t know where you set things most of the time anyway. Only after the first couple weeks when things were supposed to be in their places, did you start to notice.
You were a witch, sure. But that didn’t mean you weren’t easily spooked. You didn’t want to make things worse, so instead of doing a cleanse that could anger something stronger than you, you did a few charms and protection spells on yourself. That did nothing to stop the tiny torments. If anything, they increased. Not only were several potions moved, but they were mixed together haphazardly. Then your blinds would open after you had closed them, or your fridge would be left cracked. All harmless things, but knowing someone or something else was doing this was enough to have you constantly on edge. You just wanted to relax, dammit!
You never thought of this side of living alone. During the day, you were living in a beautiful cottage in the lush green forest, but at night it felt as though you were in a haunted cabin in the woods. You really couldn’t take it anymore. You had cried and whimpered all night when you felt you were being watched, and by the time the sun rose you had resolved to deal with this.
You gathered some materials and made your way out of the house. After all, a summoning spell required a lot of concentration and you certainly wouldn't be able to do it in there. You found a nice clearing not too far from your home, and set up. You lit a few candles, did a few incantations, and waited. You were about to give up when, in a puff of smoke, a demon appeared. They were crouched down with blue flames dancing around them, but even still they seemed massive.
As the demon uncurled and stood himself upright, it seemed as though more and more limbs appeared. You counted six arms coming out of him, his whole body a gradient of black to white. His pitch black fingertips seemed as though they were covered in soot, and as you got closer to the middle of his body his skin was more and more milky white. Hooved feet clap on the ground. He had dark eyes and horns like a ram’s curled on the side of their head, with long black hair in between, and he towered over you.
He lowered himself and took your shaking hand in one of his large ones, his pure white eyes staring at you.
“It is lovely to meet you, my master,” his voice is like velvet, and he flashes you his sharp teeth at you before placing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “They call me Siphorus. I cannot wait to be of service to you.”
You let out a bleating laugh, unsure what to make of this. You weren’t expecting such a large and powerful demon to come; you weren’t even out of the broom closet and this kind of thing should take years of real practice.
“Um, master?”
He chuckled under his breath, “Yes, master,” he rose, “You summoned me and I am under your command. I promise to fulfil anything you ask of me.”
You ignored his suggestive promise. Smooth as he may be, you were out in the middle of the woods for a more important reason. “You can just call me Lily if you’d like? And well, I sort of need your help with something?”
“Like I said, I am under your command, master,” he prompts you, a clawed finger lifting your chin up.
“There’s something in my house,” you tell him, clearing your throat and putting some space in between the two of you. “Something spooky and it...watches me I think. I don’t know how to make it go away by myself.”
“A powerful witch such as yourself?” he frowns “No matter, I shall play the role of your gallant protector.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Honestly, who talks like that? For someone who looks so formidable, he’s a bit on the odd side. At least he is going to help you.
He starts towards your house, although you aren’t sure how he knows the way.
“Ah yes, I can feel his presence here.” Siphorus opens the door for you with a flourishing gesture.
As soon as one of his hooved feet lands on the other side of your doorway, chaos breaks out. Cabinets are slamming, furniture is being overturned, and the lights are flickering.
“She is MY master! GET OUT!” A voice yells out as lightbulbs start to explode. You let out a scream as glass flies at you, covering your face and burying it in the stomach of the demon by your side. With a wave of his hand Siphorus halts the glass midair, something you probably could have done if you hadn’t been so panicked. You step away from him once again, your face hot. You try to convince yourself it’s from his inner hellfire, but you aren’t too sure.
Siphorus clicks his tongue in a disapproving manner. “Now now, let us not make a mess of our sweet Lilians home, hm?”
An angry hissing sound responds back, things slamming and shaking but nothing as messy.
“This is quite the tantrum. Honestly, show yourself and be gone!” Siphorus calls out, and a figure starts to appear.
White hot flames spiral out in your living room and from within it steps another demon. This one is almost as tall as Siphorus, but not quite. He is lanky, and his skin textured, light colored but red seemed to be pumping underneath, as if it was scar tissue. This one only has one pair of arms, and has no hair. His eyes are cat-like and stare straight at Siphorus, flames around him roaring even stronger.
“GET OUT!” the figure yells, and you flinch into Siphorus once again.
The flames suddenly go out, and you turn to see the other demon looking at you now.
“What,” he paused, swallowing thickly. “What is going on? Did you...find a new demon?” He asked, his voice sounding distraught. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You stand there confused at his words. He doesn’t sound scary at all, if anything he sounds heartbroken. The fear melts away, and you take a step away from Siphorus.
“What do you mean a new demon? This one belong to you?” Siphorus asks, eyebrow raised. You just shake your head, and he heaves a dramatic sigh.
“Of course I belong to her. I became attached to her weeks ago and she brought me home. She was walking in the forest and I felt her energy. It was lonely so I came with,” he hissed these words out, eyes turned to slits.
“She was scared and I had to keep her safe! She was making protection charms and satchels and sticking them everywhere.”
“From you, you nimwit! She didn’t even know you were in the house!” Siphorus admonishes him, “You should have at least presented yourself!”
His face falls further and the demon places himself on one of your dining room chairs, dwarfing it.
“But, she never asked for me? I was never summoned to do her bidding, or had any reason to show myself. I just thought she knew I was here, and would ask me if she needed anything. Since she didn’t ask, I just watched over her.” he sniffles, and you get a knot in your throat.
A pitiful “Oh,” passes through your lips. You move over to him, letting him scoop you onto his lap.
“I just wanted to be a good demon, I’d never had a master that was such a nice witch,” he whines high in the back of his throat, nosing at your hair. You coo at him the way you would a scared puppy, doting on him with attention and sweet pets on his scarred and hairless head.
You then hear a scoff from Siphorus, both you and the new demon turning to look at him.
“What?”
“The two of you are absolutely pitiful, do you know that?” Siphorus asks, baffled.
You stay cuddled up, “Well, wait - what is your name?” you look up into his eyes, his fangs pushing into his soft looking lips.
“Elow, master,” he replies into your hair, still trying to get as close as possible to you.
“Elow, it’s nice to meet you,” you tell him, giving him a sweet smile he readily returns. “Well I’m absolutely fine with Elow staying. And I don’t think we’re pitiful.”
Siphorus sputters. “Well, I suppose we have a bit of a problem, then. You summoned me to get rid of him, and I cannot leave until your summons are completed.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I just don’t feel good about making him leave now, Siphorus.” You tell him, and feel Elows long arms wrap even tighter around you.
“Yes, Siphorus. Please don’t make me leave now,” Elow asks him, eyes wide.
You assure Siphorus you will help him in any way that you can.
“You can stay here until we figure out how to let you go back, of course. I- do you sleep?” you ask them. “I can get some rooms ready for you!” And you scurry off, hoping that the two demons get along.
You aren’t sure how to act now that you have both demons staying in your home. Firstly, you layout some ground rules as far as Elow touching your potions and leaving the fridge door open. He looks so sad after your gentle scolding, so you take some time to comfort him as well. The two of you snuggle up on your small couch and watch a movie. He’s informed you that he has been starved of contact for a long while, and he basks in your touch. You enjoy it as well, and his warmth lulls you to sleep. When the two of you wake, you are covered in a blanket. It’s soft and black, and not one you had seen before. It smelled slightly of fire.
The three of you had settled into a routine. On the days you went to work, you came home to a clean house, and a meal. It was all so domestic, and occasionally one or both of your demons would produce a human glamour and come with you into town. They always kept on sunglasses, though, because they couldn’t change their eyes. You doubt the inhabitants of Talon Valley would mind. Siphorus had informed you that most of the people living here were some kind of supernatural being. As a witch, you fit right in.
So well, in fact, that you had befriended another witch already. She was much more confident in her abilities, and had already figured out a solution to Siphorus being stuck with you.
Coming back from a visit with her, you had mixed feelings. You had a solution, sure, but you had grown so fond of your demon. You didn’t want to let him go, and already felt hollow just thinking about him departing. You creak the front door open while lost in thought and were unprepared for what you were seeing. Standing in shock, you take in the scene before you.
Through the doorway, you can see Elow on top of Siphorus. His head is thrown back, and high pitched moans leave him. You can make out the deep bass of Siphorus encouraging him as Elow bounces on his cock, thoroughly impaled. Siphous is leaning back on one set of hands, with the others on either side of Elow’s hips and face. Elow’s own hardness bobs between his thighs, long and thick. It’s textured like the rest of him, but redder. You feel your own face get hot, and the gasp that leaves your lips is what finally catches your demons’ attention.
Elow is embarrassed and won’t look at you, trying to hide behind a tangle of sooty arms. Siphorus just smirks at you, taking in your doe-eyed appearance. You feel as if your heartbeat is between your legs.
“Isn’t our Elow so beautiful,” he draws out, running his hand along the other demon’s flank. Elow shudders, still fully seated, and you nod. “So beautiful, so good for me. For us,” he purrs into Elow’s ear, his milky eyes still locked on yours. This time Elow actually moans, weather that be from the thickness spearing him open or the words alone, you are unsure. Siphorus beacons you closer, and you feel as though you are under a spell.
With a touch of your magic, the door is shut and locked. Your feet carry you closer to them, and Elow peaks at you, somehow both demure and debauched. He isn’t much smaller than Siphorus, really, but he looks tiny like this. He whispers a “Hi,” into your hand, kissing it gently. You return the sentiment, caressing his face. He squirms and whimpers, and you see his cock jump. “Oh, honey,” you coo, and pull him in for a sweet kiss. One of Siphorus’s hands tangles in your hair, while the other of the set is on Elow’s head, encouraging you two. He encourages you vocally too, his pleased throaty moans making your kiss turn feverish.
“Join us, master,” Siphorus implores you, a hand wandering down your thigh.
Behind the lust you feel for them, a sense of nervous insecurity rises when you go to take your clothes off. You pull off your outerwear, taking your time. Your demons must sense your hesitance, as they pull you between their intertwined forms, Elow at your back.
“Shh master, just focus on my hands,” Elow tells you, ever so sweet. His hands move along your breasts, kneading the flesh there. One rises up, covering your throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just holds his hand there. His thumb comes up to brush along your lips, and you take it into your mouth without a conscious thought, sucking and wrapping your tongue around it, an action that draws moans from both of your demons.
“Do not try to hide from us,” Siphorus’s voice is but an echoing growl, teeth pressing into your ear. “We can smell you, master. The air is thick with your want, let us serve you.” From where you rest on his torso, you can feel his hips moving, along with Elow’s hardness pressing against your lower back. You whimper around the thumb in your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head.
Elow removes his hands, and you let out a pleading moan, not wanting them to stop.
“You have to tell us, master. Tell us what you want, and it’s yours, please,” Elow says, his voice a breath of a whisper.
“Yes, darling, just tell us,” Siphorus echoes the sentiment, and you feel dizzy with want.
“Please,” you breath out, “Please touch me. Take me,” you plead to them.
No sooner do the words leave your lips their hands wrap back around you. You push your butt back onto Elow’s pulsing cock, rolling against it. He whimpers out, and you can only imagine how full he must feel. You use your magic to take your clothes off, not wanting to break the contact with your lovers. Feeling them against your skin is worth any nervousness you may have been feeling. Siphorus captures your mouth in a kiss, and although you may be his master, it is clear who is in control. The press of his teeth to your lips has your hips jerking, and you’re sure they can both feel how wet you are perched on Siphorus’s muscular abdomen.
Siphorus’s hips are moving harder now, meeting Elow’s bouncing ass. A pair of Siphorus’s hands wrap around your hips and in one fluid motion, hovers you on top of his face. Your hands find his horns, steading yourself. He makes a loud, wounded noise at your grip, and Elow moans out at the particularly hard thrust that follows. You take that as a sign to loosen your hold, and pack his reaction away in the back of your mind for another day. You then look down and see Siphorus’s tongue, so very long and pink, seeking out your heat.
He suddenly growls, and flips you around so that you’re facing Elow, and his tongue presses into you. It stretches you and you feel it press against your walls, long enough that it can still curve to press to your clit. The sensations are overwhelming, and you cannot help but rock against them.
You get to watch Elow being fucked, and you meet his mouth in a frenzied kiss. Both of you are being held tight by Siphorus’s hands, being pleasured by him. The hands around Elow are thrusting him up and down, and the peek you get of Siphorus’s member has you clenching harder around his tongue. He laps up the wetness spilling from you as if he is starved, the noises coming from him sound as if he is tasting salvation. Elow acts much the same, drinking from your mouth as if it is the finest wine.
You feel all too much and not enough, and you wrap a hand around Elow’s cock. It’s hot and heavy in your grip, and Elow turns to putty, begging.
“Please don’t stop, please master,” he whines, high in his throat. Incoherent noises keep coming, and you assure him you won’t stop, pressing yourself further onto Siphorus.
“Not gonna stop honey, wanna make you feel good. Such a sweet demon, aren’t you? My sweet demon.” You praise him and his movements turn jerky. The noises leaving him become even more frantic and high pitched. He reaches a crescendo and spills into your hand, covering you in his thick white cum. You don’t stop until he is pulling away from your hand, a whimpering mess convulsing on your other demon's cock. Your other demon, who is now redoubling his assault against your cunt, seems close as well. You watch him tense up and with an animalistic grunt, fill up Elow with his seed. His tongue is still fucking into you, and the visual he and Elow provide is all that is needed to push you over the edge, tensing and jerking away as your climax leaves you breathless.
The three of you pull yourselves apart, you considerably more out of breath than your demons, who are much quicker to recover. Elow is behind you while Siphorus leans upright against the couch, stretching out his many muscles and preening before you. You let your eyes rake over him, and you feel desire bubbling in your skin.
His nostrils flare, and his eyes dig into you even harder, predatory. You feel your heart pound and you’re sure he can smell your want, just as he said.
“Oh, Lily, you think we are done with you?” Siphorus asks you, reaching over to tuck a sweat soaked strand of hair away from your face.
“I hope not,” you whisper out, ignoring how hot you feel your face getting. You gnaw on your lip, and feel Elow stretch his arms out. You lean into them, already feeling breathless.
“C’mere master, please? Can I have you this way?” He asks, tucking you to his front. One hand moves to rest on your throat while the other goes to your leg. You nod eagerly, letting him hoist your leg up as he nudges his member against your opening. He ruts against you before seating himself inside in one lazy thrust. All of your nerve endings are ablaze, and your hands wrap around his forearm, keeping his hand pressed against your neck. He keeps a slow pace, and molasses runs through your veins. The moans that leave you sound desperate, and you watch as Siphorus fists his cock, his other hands tweaking his nipples and moving up and down his body.
You can feel the magic he is putting off, and it’s as if his hands are touching you from where he is in front of you. He is content with watching this time, it seems.
“Deeper, Elow. Give it to her deeper.” Not just watching then, apparently. He is giving orders as well. You moan out as Elow follows his direction and presses deeper into you, an eager “Yes'' leaving his lips. A phantom hand, courtesy of Siphorus, is circling your clit. The slow but persistent pleasure had you throbbing and jerking back into Elows arms, the two of you overstimulated together in the best of ways. More phantom hands ghost over you and go to Elow, who lets out a whorish moan at the feeling.
“Good boy, just like that,” Siphorus praises and nods.
You whimpered and met his milky gaze, “You too darling, you’re such a good girl for us. Such a good little master, aren’t you?” he asks, his smirk downright predatory.
His words pull a noise out of you that you didn’t think you were capable of making. Between his words, phantom hands, and Elow’s deep movements massaging your inner walls, you don’t last long. You feel yourself tense again, sparks flying through your veins as you milk the cock nestled deep inside you. Siphorus is still talking to the two of you, praising you though you can’t make out the words. Elow finishes too, locking himself inside you as he fills you with his seed. He grunts and makes breathy sounds into your neck as he continues to fill you.The warmth of it has aftershocks rippling through you, and you lean your head back against his shoulder as the two of you enjoy your afterglow. He slips from you minutes later, and you feel his plentiful cum running down the inside of your thighs. You should feel a bit grossed out, but all you feel is sated and claimed.
Siphorus must have finished with you as well, since you feel tendrils of his magic cleaning you up. They run up and down your body, prompting you to further melt into them. Your eyes peek open and he is there, smiling and pressing his lips to your forehead. “Shh, let me get us comfortable,” he tells you, before conjuring up a nest of blankets and cushions for you, all with a subtle fiery scent. You and Elow don’t even have to move, all the better since you still very much feel boneless. If Elow’s soft and content noises are anything to go by, he feels the same. Siphorus nuzzles himself in, the three of you tangled together.
“May I admit something, my dearests?” he asks us, answered only with a humming affirmative.
“I- Well, I didn’t have to stay. I’ve been free to leave but I just really, really wanted to stay.” You had not heard him sound so vulnerable before, and you squeeze one of his hands. You’re surprised, but not upset by the news. If anything, it lifts a weight off of your shoulders.
“Pft, tell me something I did not already know,” Elow teases him, his eyes still closed and a smile on his face.
Siphorus sputters, taken aback, but it turns into hearty laughter.
“I’m glad you stayed,” you tell him, kissing him in your half - asleep state.
The blankets and content hum of magic in the air lull you to sleep, surrounded by your loves.
This is my first time posting in this site. I’m trying things, lmao. I already posted this in AFF, but considering the website is slow these past few months, I figured I’ll check if anyone’s interested here..
Description: She’s the lone wolf that only little people were brave enough to befriend. Now, it’s their turn. In need of a favor, badboys Baekhyun and Chanyeol approach her for help. Will they succeed in breaking down her walls?
(3/6) one-shot — What is love? — Post- Captain America Civil War / Pre-Spiderman: Homecoming — 2016— EARTH
Masterlist
Warning: polygamous relationship, slight underage (Kree mostly live for thousands of years so technically Estella and Ol-Amm are the equivalent age of Peter in their species and culture), fluff, Peter Parker needs a god damn hug, Peter Parker also needs some love and peace so stop being mean to him x
Ol lead the way as they slipped through the streets of Queens.
They’d been on the look out for their red and blue spider, Peter.
It had been a few days since the fight in German and the two young Kree had been compelled to find the young super hero. “He did say Queens right?” Ol-Amm questioned his sandy blonde haired companion.
“I heard him talking with Captain Rogers.. he said he was from Queens.. we only saw him afterwards when he left with Stark remember” they reminded him before spotting the red and blue hero swing over their heads, “up there follow him” they muttered grabbing onto their partners hand before rushing off towards the next part of their adventurous life.
——————————————————————
They stayed in Peter’s room.
It was just three of them, Peter had gotten back from school but instead of his usual routine patrols were they would follow after him making sure his dumbass doesn’t get beaten to a pulp like they had been doing for the past month, he wanted to stay and rest.
Ol sat with his back against one of the walls of the room whilst Peter lay with his head on one of his legs, Estella perched on the floor as Peter run his fingers through her hair in time with Ol-Amm as he ran his fingers through Peter’s soft curls. Peter could tell they all were ignoring the elephant in the room that came in the darkening bruises that branded his face and ribs, he knew from the moment the pair had seen him walking out of school towards them, it made his insides cringe at the heated anger that filled out behind their eyes as they looked over him before staying silent through the whole journey back to his home.
“I got into a fight..” a small voice filled the silent air making the two aliens look to the human, “who hurt you?” Ol spoke up first a twinge of anger could be heard in amongst his words. The teenager stayed silent refusing to look at either of his friends, “Peter.. we’re not angry at you... we’re worried is all we care about and we just want you to be safe” Estella said aloud from their spot on the floor, sighing the teen replied “Flash.. he was making jokes about Ned... I couldn’t just stand there and listen to someone talk about my best friend like that so.. so I told him to stop and then he started talking about Estel how they were probably only hanging around with me cause nobody else would want to hang out with a loser like me.. then I pushed him because he insulted them and he crashed into one of the lockers.....”. He almost flinched when he felt a hand take hold of his own giving it a reassuring squeeze, “it’s okay.. we’re still here.. we’re not going anywhere..” bright blue eyes met with deep brown as a glint of anxiety slowly vanished from the younger ones eyes, “I got detention for the rest of the week... Flash has it for the next two, I kinda let him just keep hitting me” he murmured to the end wanting to curl into himself at the sound of the Kree aliens sharp inhales.
“Peter that isn’t the right thing to do.” Estella states moving so that they were kneeling beside the bed looking down upon their friends face as their lover also shared the same look of concern whilst studying the boy, “what choice do I have Estel.. it’s not like I can really fight back.. I don’t wanna hurt anyone” he mumbled turning his face away from the pair.
Huffing out the breath of air they had been holding in, Estella climbed up onto the bed straddling the spider mutant, stunning the teen into submission as he whined allowing for the half Kree to link their fingers with his own. “Your a real dingus, Peter you know that” they spoke with a gentleness to their voice that made the poor boys insides flutter, “they’re right Spider.. we worry for you.. we can’t always be there to keep you safe” Ol stated brushing Parker’s curls from his forehead, “you know when you guys are like this it’s hard to see the tough, battle hardened fighters” Peter chuckled eyes gleaming at the attention he was getting from the pair of lovers even though beneath it all he feared that his own feelings towards the pair meant nothing in their own eyes. Laughter bubbles from the pair as they smiled down at the human they’d grown so fond of over the month of knowing him, “you’re just lucky to see us like this..” Ol muttered sincerely running his thumb along the shell of Peter’s ear, “he is right Peter, you’re the only one who sees us like this away from battle..” the hybrid Kree explained cautiously their grip on Peter’s hands tightened ever so slightly not going unnoticed by Peter as his vision switched between the two young Kree.
“When will you tell me about it.. you both are always talking about these fights that you’ve had but you never tell me what happened in them.. please tell me your stories” Peter begged them his voice at first seemed to fall on deafened ears, “no little spider.. not today” the eldest of the three said almost whispering his words. Peter squirmed at the name both hating and loving when the Kree boy called him ‘little spider’, “I’m not little, Estel is little” he mocked light heartedly changing the subject seeing how distressed the two had become at his own hand, “it’s not my fault I’m 5’5 besides I’m only an inch smaller than you Peter” they scowled playfully batting at the boy.
The pair continued to play fight along with the sounds of Ol’s laughter as he smiled at the pair in which he felt enthralled by. His eyes studied them thinking back to the moments his bright blue orbs had landed on the pair, one by chance the other in battle.
To him and Estel it seemed like only a few days ago they’d appeared on Ego, whisked him off into the galaxy to have adventures of their own, but since meeting Peter time seemed to slow as their minds and souls set out to claim the hybrid human as their own, a calm and stable third to their chaotic and battle ready duo. My loves.. his mind cooed yet stumbled over the word love.. what is love? What he and Estel had was an unbreakable bond formed over the years of traveling and bonding together, but what they felt not only for the each other but for Peter as well seemed stronger if not scarier than any Kree battalion in existence.
“Das't, my darling your head is in the stars again” he was dragged from his thoughts by the voice of his lovers face now in sight of his own as he glances round to see Parker sniggering from where he now sat crossed legged beside where Estella was now straddling him, their playing had ended and now sort out entertainment from him. “Watch your language my dear..” he chuckled press a quick peck to their forehead catching them off guard silencing both youngsters.
Peter frowned yet again finding another reason for his own self loathing.
How could he be so selfish to love two people who are so captivated by one another, he would be so cruel to do anything that could jeopardise their relationship. They evened each other out so well in the short amount of time that they had known one another, for him to come in and ruin it all would be a cruel act against two people most deserving of love.
“Mah little spider, Ye'v git yer heid in th' stars, tell us yer woes mah dear spider” the Scottish twinge from his time on earth before his families death became stronger in each word that he spoke as Ol wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist pulling him into his side as Estella latched onto him stroking his cheek soothingly as Ol rubbed his hand up and down Peter’s back in calming pattern. “It’s nothing” he whimpered feeling the sudden urge to cry as he was cradled in their arms. “Tell us mah dear spider, we care tae damn muckle aboot ye tae lea ye in sic a state” the words were stronger more forceful this time as Peter turned to hide his face in Ol’s chest hoping that some Norse or whatever god that was there might take pity on him, “Peter... Peter please listen to us.. we need to tell you something and we want you to hear what we have to say and no one else” Estella’s voice reached his ears, “I know that things are weird cause we’re not exactly human or anything and we may live long into the future which means that time will forever be against us but Peter.. me and Ol-Amm want to be with you..” the Kree hybrid has gone shy to the end seeming to lose herself in her worry filled rambles.
“Peter.. both Estella and I are children of war.. yes we both grew up different but at the same time we were still raised in a war that could never be won...” Ol began to explain shifting so that Peter had no choice but to look at the pair who stared earnestly at him. “Our views growing up on what love is weren’t the best, but over time we’ve come to understand that love is what makes you feel safe and wanted and... Peter that is what we feel when we’re with you.. you make us feel safe and warm and loved.. we just want you to know that we care very much about you and that whatever happens next is up to you.” Ol finished sending a side glance to his partner as they nodded opening their mouth to contribute, “Ol and I are like an angered wound and Peter you are a soothing balm to us.. you are the calm to our chaos and we are in love you for this feeling that you’ve shared with us” the young Kree tried to relay to their partner, “and we love you Peter Parker because you are you... you are kind and loyal to a fault.. we love you for being you..” they tried to convey in the best possible way.
The teen lay there almost cradled in their arms, his mind was blank as he search for some way to answer them both.
When the words formed his voice was soft and timid almost afraid that once spoken he could never take back what he was about to say.
“I really like you both too..”
No more words were exchanged that day, just silent reassurances as they held each other. None had a care towards what was to come, they had no care for the dangers they would soon face, the only care they had was with each other in that moment safe and sound inside the Parker residence.
