☾ warnings: nsfw, masturbation/toy use, filthy language, obsessive behavior, worship kink, degradation kink, voyeurism (recording/cam sex), exhibitionism, possessiveness, cocky/dom energy, sub vibes (only a few), accidental creampie, breeding kink, overstimulation, scent kink, crying, rough sex, (joong is my fav in this)
☾ hahaha...ha ha, so well, here we are. enjoy lmaoooo, one of these may honestly turn into a full fic 💀 who’s ur fav?
edit: there's now a full spin off fic, ft. yunho and mingi: pocket pussy incident
seonghwa – (kinda a softy but addicted)
He unwraps the gift like it's fragile. And in a way, it is. His hands are slow, reverent, and when he sees what's inside, his breath actually catches. No teasing. No wide-eyed shock. Just quiet awe.
"This is you," he murmurs. Thumb dragging slowly along the slit, memorizing the shape. "You let me have this?"
He doesn't use it right away. He showers first. Changes the sheets. Sprays your perfume on his pillow and dims the lights like he's setting up for a date. And when he finally presses into it, it's with a low groan, hips stuttering almost instantly.
"Fuck… you're so warm even in my head."
He whispers your name like a prayer. Thrusts deep, slow, and holds himself there like he doesn't want to finish too fast. Like cumming would ruin the moment. But when he does? It's with a shaky cry and your name on his lips.
He leans down between thrusts once, just to kiss the clit. Doesn’t matter that it’s silicone, in his head, it's you. He moans against it like it's holy.
He kisses it after. Cleans it gently. And tucks it away in silk like a secret.
—
hongjoong – (filthy, obsessive)
He asked for it. Of course he did. He researched molding kits, offered to help position you, took photos for "accuracy." He was fussy about the angle. "If I'm gonna fuck it," he said, "it's gotta be perfect."
When it arrives, he's hard before the box is even fully open. Uses your moan recordings and a video of your last orgasm as audio. Lube? Optional. He wants it raw.
"You're tighter than I remember, baby. Miss me that much already?"
He ruts into it at his desk, cock flushed and leaking, both hands wrapped around the toy like he wants to crush it. He props his phone up and hits record. "You wanted a video, right? Watch me ruin it. Watch me wreck your perfect little clone."
He moans your name, curses, even slaps it once just to see how it jiggles.
He leaves it out on the nightstand. Doesn't hide it. Wipes it down like a prized instrument and kisses it goodnight.
—
yunho - (gentle, addicted in secret)
He blushes so hard you think he might combust. Opens the box slowly, like he's afraid it's going to moan at him. When he realizes what it is, his ears turn red.
"You made this? For me? Like… molded?"
He acts like he'll save it for a lonely night. But that night? It's tonight. He's too curious. Too hard. He lies on his back, headphones in, listening to you breathe from a voice note. Lubes it carefully. Hesitates.
Then slides in and whimpers.
"Oh my god. Oh my god."
He's loud. Embarrassingly loud. Moaning into a pillow, hand gripping the toy like he's afraid it’ll disappear. When he cums, he gasps your name and makes a mess of his stomach.
He pulls out dazed, sees the mess leaking from the toy, and blushes all over again. “Shit… I—I came inside. I’m so sorry…”
He can’t look at you the next morning. But the toy stays in his drawer. Within reach.
—
yeosang – (worshipful, lowkey possessive?)
He unwraps the box slowly. Fingers lingering on the soft inner walls, eyes dark.
"You gave me this," he says, mostly to himself. "You really let me have this."
He doesn’t fuck it immediately. He sets it on a velvet towel. Stares at it like it’s a relic. He talks to it.
"Did you miss me today? You look so wet, baby. So ready."
When he finally uses it, it’s like worship. He presses in slowly, voice cracking. One hand stroking himself, the other caressing the outer folds like they’re real.
He cums with his forehead against the mattress and your name breaking off his lips in a whisper.
He never shares it. Never hides it either.
He keeps a drop of your perfume sealed in the same drawer. Dabs it inside before use. Wants your scent to cling to him for days. If anyone even thinks about touching it, his voice goes ice cold:
"That doesn’t belong to you."
—
san – (desperate, loud, horny type)
You don’t even get to explain. He rips open the box and screams.
"NO FUCKING WAY. YOU DID NOT. YOU—" (he's already naked btw)
He fucks it on cam. With you watching. One hand on his chest, head thrown back.
"You molded your pussy for me, baby? You wanted me to fuck it while thinking about you? You wanted me to cry, didn’t you?"
He screams your name when he cums. Falls apart. Pulls out messy and still hard, gasping.
He strokes it after like a lover. “You’re her,” he murmurs. “My sweet girl.” You hear him coo to it like it can respond.
Uses it again before cleaning it. Leaves it next to his water bottle like it’s his gym towel.
Texts you: it twitched around me. swear to god. she misses me
—
mingi – (overwhelmed, ruined, a princess duh)
He tears up. Literally holds it like a newborn.
"You did this for me? You really let them mold… there?"
First use, he puts on one of your oversized shirts and your perfume. The video call is open, but all you see is his hand trembling.
"I missed you so much. I—I know it's not you, but I had to try."
He fucks it like he’s scared of hurting it. Whispers little apologies even as he cums inside.
"Sorry baby, I just… couldn’t hold it. You felt so good."
Afterwards, he wraps it in a towel and kisses the rim. Cries again.
He wears your shirt while he uses it again. Sobs into the fabric when he cums too fast the second time.
“You smell like home. I need you again, I—please.”
He talks to it when he’s lonely. You catch him once. He doesn’t stop.
—
wooyoung – (cocky, deranged!!, too proud)
He sees the box and grins like you handed him a Nobel prize.
"Oh, you shouldn’t have. No, really. I might propose."
Fucks it with the lights on, music blasting, sunglasses on. Makes you watch.
"She’s sucking me in, babe. I think she loves me."
He spits on it. Spreads the lips open for the camera.
He licks it once. Grins. “Taste test approved.” Later, he sucks his fingers clean and moans like he’s at a wine tasting.
"Tell the real thing to be jealous. Her twin’s working overtime."
You hear him moan your name and his own.
Texts you at 3am: ur pussy has a clone. i’m in a throuple now.
Also buys a backup. Just in case.
—
jongho – (controlled, brutal, undercover addict)
He doesn’t react. Not at first. Just raises a brow, thanks you, and disappears into his room.
But behind closed doors? It’s carnage.
He fists the toy with both hands. No build-up. No lube the second time.
"Tight little thing. Can’t even take me."
He doesn’t moan. He grunts. Breathes harsh through his nose.
Finishes fast the first time. Slow the second. By the third, he’s groaning your name like a curse.
He wipes it clean. Places it in a drawer. Comes back 20 minutes later. Uses it again.
“Take it,” he growls under his breath. “Take my cum like a good girl.” Your moan plays through his earbuds. He fucks harder.
He never brings it up. Never admits it. But the sheets are always damp, and his jaw’s always clenched.
⌇warnings: lil plot, smut, explicit nsfw, hormonal mood swings, crying/sobbing, ovulation horny desperation, p in v, oral (f!receiving), discharge eating (he's a greedy boy in this!!), fingering, body worship, begging, dirty talk, light choking, creampie, overstimulation, clingy needy behavior, messy, slight bleeding post-sex, affectionate aftercare, comfort sex, teasing, soft dom/sub vibes, slow soft orgasm, casual humor, soft praise, san is so bf here
⌇tysm for all the love on my recent works, it means the world--so here's a sannie one for yall <33
The rain had been coming down for hours. You watched it trickle down the glass, grey sky split with flickers of pale lightning every so often, the house dim except for the kitchen light left on above the sink.
The sound of the storm had long since faded into background noise, white noise for the ache growing in your stomach.
It wasn’t the cramps that had started it, not really. It was the need.
You were ovulating. You knew your body like clockwork. Your skin was flushed, your nipples stiff under your shirt for no reason, and the ridiculous amount of slick between your thighs had you changing your underwear twice today already.
But that wasn’t the worst part; the worst part was how empty you felt.
Three weeks. That’s how long it had been since you last saw him. Since you’d last touched him. Since you’d heard that particular rasp in his voice when he pressed you into the mattress and told you how sweet you were when you cried.
Now he was finally coming home.
You curled your fingers around the warm mug in your hands and tried not to squirm on the couch. Tried not to think about how the crotch part of your sleep shorts was already damp. Tried not to think about how your body didn’t just miss him, it was screaming for him.
You wanted him, not just for the way he touched you, but because you needed the quiet comfort of having him near, his presence like a tether to hold you steady.
You didn’t hear the key turn, you only heard the door click open.
Then a warm voice, familiar, hoarse with exhaustion and soaked in affection.
“Baby, I’m home.”
The mug slipped from your fingers and clattered onto the coffee table, sloshing tea across the surface. You shot up from the couch without thinking, and the second your eyes met his across the living room, you ran.
San caught you mid-jump, arms wrapping around you like instinct. You crashed into him with a breathless laugh, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply.
God, he smelled like the rain, leather and laundry, and just a hint of sweat.
“I missed you,” you whispered into his shoulder. “I missed you so fucking much.”
“I missed you more,” he said, setting his bag down and squeezing you tighter. “Every day. Every city.”
You could feel it already, the tension pulling taut between you, like a bowstring straining under pressure.
He leaned back slightly to look at you. You must’ve looked a mess, skin flushed, lips bitten, your shirt rumpled and sleeves pulled down over your hands. His eyes softened.
“Hey,” he said, voice lower now, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you lied. But the tremble in your voice gave it away.
He tilted his head. “Come here.”
You followed him quietly to the couch, legs shaky, throat tight. The moment he sat, he pulled you onto his lap, your knees straddling him as his hands cradled your waist.
“Tell me.”
You hesitated. “I’m… hormonal.”
His brows rose just a little.
“Not in a sad way. Just my body’s going nuts. And I’ve been alone and stressed and horny for like three days straight.”
San’s expression shifted fast. From concern to heat in a heartbeat.
“Oh,” he said, voice dipping lower.
You bit your lip. “It’s not even the sex part—I mean, okay, it is, but it’s also just how empty I feel. I keep crying at dumb things. I almost cried over a pothole earlier. A pothole, San.”
He grinned. “Baby…”
“It’s my fucking ovulation window. And it’s making me feel like a crazy person.”
He wrapped his arms tighter around you, chest rising and falling against yours. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to feel pressured after tour. You’re probably tired, and I’m just—” Your voice broke slightly. “I’m just really needy right now.”
San leaned in, forehead resting gently against yours.
“You think I wouldn’t want to take care of you?” he whispered.
You blinked at him. His eyes were darker than before, his hands sliding up and down your sides in slow, grounding motions.
“I know this body,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I know what you feel like when you’re ovulating. I can smell it on you, baby.”
You shivered, his voice was like molasses now, deep and slow.
“You’re flushed. Warm. You keep rocking your hips like you’re not even aware of it.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, humiliated by how true it was.
“Don’t be,” he said, brushing your hair back gently. “I think it’s hot.”
Your breath hitched.
“I want you exactly like this,” he said. “Soft. Needy. Out of your mind.”
He kissed your neck low, slow, and purposeful. His hand slid down between your thighs. Pressed softly.
You whimpered.
“You’re soaked,” he muttered, groaning. “Fuck. I’ve barely touched you.”
You couldn’t breathe.
“I’m gonna take care of you, baby,” he whispered. “Gonna give your body what it wants.”
You whimpered against his shoulder. The second his fingers pressed against the thin cotton of your shorts, your body shuddered.
San cupped you fully, his palm broad and heavy, and rubbed a slow circle. You felt how embarrassingly slick the fabric had gotten, and the groan that left his chest was hungry.
“You want me to take care of you, don’t you?” he murmured. “Let me make it better, sweetheart.”
You nodded.
“Need you to say it, baby.”
“Please,” you whispered. “Touch me. I can’t take it anymore.”
He laid you back gently on the couch, pulling the throw blanket under your hips to cushion you.
His lips kissed down your throat, your collarbones, your chest. Slow, slow, slower, until his fingers caught the waistband of your shorts and peeled them down.
Then there it was, the second your panties came off, San paused. His breath caught. You were dripping, inner thighs damp, the whole couch faintly scented with your arousal.
“Oh, baby…” he exhaled, sinking to his knees between your thighs. “You’re so ready for me.”
He spread your legs wide, running his thumbs through your slick, parting you open.
San dropped to his knees between your thighs like a man possessed.
He spread you open with both hands, thumbs gliding through the slick that coated your folds, wet and glossy, stringing between your inner lips and soaking the blanket beneath you.
He let out a guttural groan. “Fuck. You’re not just wet, baby… you’re creamy.”
You flushed hard, hips twitching. “I told you—ovulation makes me—”
“You think I’m complaining?” He slid one finger through your folds, slow, collecting the thick mess coating you. When he pulled it back, it glistened, cloudy, slippery, stretched like honey between his fingers.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he brought that finger to his mouth and sucked it clean.
Your stomach dropped. He moaned.
“Tastes like you need to be filled,” he growled. “Sweet. Warm. Fucking ripe.”
“San—” you gasped, breath catching as he went back for more. He dipped two fingers in this time slow, twisting, curling deep, and when he pulled them out coated and dripping, he held them out to you.
“Open,” he whispered.
You hesitated, cheeks blazing, but obeyed.
He slid his fingers into your mouth and you sucked them instinctively, tasting yourself thick on his skin.
Salty, slippery, overwhelming. San watched with blown pupils and a smirk so filthy it made your toes curl.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Taste what your body’s begging for. You feel it, don’t you? That emptiness. That ache?”
You whimpered, clenching down hard around nothing.
He licked another trail up your thigh and groaned again. “Fucking leaking for it. Dripping down your thighs like your pussy already knows what’s coming.”
Then his mouth was back on you, hot, hungry, greedy. Tongue plunging deep, lips sucking the slick straight from your entrance as if it was the first thing he’d eaten in days.
“You’re making so much of it,” he panted between licks. “You want me to fuck it all back into you, don’t you? Fill you so full it leaks out for hours?”
“Yes,” you choked, writhing. “Please—please, I need it.”
“You’ll get it, sweetheart,” he growled. “But not until I’ve tasted every drop this perfect body’s made for me.”
You broke. Your orgasm hit hard, your body seizing as you clenched around his fingers, thighs squeezing, a loud sob tearing from your throat. You could barely breathe.
The wave dragged on and on, slick pouring out of you, making your inner thighs stick to the blanket.
San kissed you through it. Soft, open-mouthed kisses across your stomach and chest as you came down. His fingers stayed inside you, slow and gentle.
“Hey, hey. I’m right here,” he murmured, tucking your head under his chin. “You don’t have to hold anything in.”
You melted into him again, boneless and trembling...
A tear slid down your cheek before you even noticed you were crying, and San brushed it away without a word.
Your body sagged forward into his chest like you’d been unstrung. Every part of you pulsing and soft, skin too tight for how much emotion buzzed underneath.
You clung to him, breathing him in. Clean sweat, worn cotton, a hint of his shampoo still clinging to the ends of his hair.
Your brain was already slipping into that hormone-drunk haze, the kind that made your ribs ache just from being held.
You barely registered when he started undressing. A shirt peeled over his head, jeans sliding low over his hips.
It was all just movement and warmth and comfort, the room spinning gently while you floated at the center of it.
By the time his clothes hit the floor, you were blinking up at him with glassy eyes, lips parted, thighs pressed together, pliant like your body had already decided what it needed from him before your mouth could ask.
But you did notice the way his cock brushed against your thigh, heavy, thick, already leaking.
You whined.
“Still want me?” he asked, sliding two fingers back into you, checking how open you were. “Still this needy, even after coming so hard?”
You nodded, voice wrecked. “Please, San. Please, I need it deep.”
He kissed your knee. “You tell me if it’s too much, okay?”
You were about to promise when he pushed in. Slow, stretching, deep. You both groaned in tandem, your cunt clenching down like he belonged there. Which, truthfully, he did.
“Fuck,” he whispered, folding over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other on your hip. “You’re so tight.”
“I can’t help it,” you cried. “You feel too good. It’s too much.”
“I know, baby,” he cooed, starting to move—long, grinding thrusts that made your whole body jolt. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
His pace quickened. You wrapped your legs around his waist. He fucked you deep, not hard yet, but the angle had your toes curling. Every time he bottomed out, your body tried to take more.
“You want me to ruin this pussy, don’t you?” he growled.
“Your hormones are driving you crazy. You’re clenching like you never want me to leave.”
He grabbed your throat lightly, pressing just enough to make you gasp.
“You want me to come inside you?” he rasped. “Want to feel me leak out of you for hours?”
“Yes, San—please—don’t pull out—”
That was it. His control snapped.
He fucked you harder now—loud, wet slaps of skin on skin, your moans broken and desperate. Your second orgasm hit without warning, your body convulsing, nails digging into his back, sobs escaping as he stuffed you full, over and over and over again.
He came right after, you felt it when he spilled.
Thick, hot, flooding you. His hips stuttered, voice cracking in your ear as he pressed as deep as he could and stayed there.
“Shit,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours. “So full. You took all of it, baby.”
You didn’t realize you were bleeding until after. Not much, just a faint smear on the inside of your thigh, red-pink and mixed with cum. San noticed it first.
He immediately slowed.
“Hey—hey, you okay?”
You nodded, you felt dazed and fuzzy, just sensitive everywhere.
“Hurts a little,” you whispered. “But in a good way.”
As he pulled out, the mess was immediate. His cum mixed with yours, leaking in thick strings down your thighs, soaking the blanket beneath you.
San paused, staring, chest heaving.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Look at that.”
You glanced down and your face flamed at the sight. The discharge from earlier, now laced with thick streaks of white, clung to your folds like your body was still trying to keep him inside.
He didn’t move for a second—then dipped back down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispered. “It’s dripping out already.”
You squirmed, thighs twitching, too sensitive to do anything about it.
Then he licked it up.
One long, slow drag of his tongue from your hole to your clit, scooping up the mess like it was his reward.
You whimpered. “San—”
He moaned into your cunt. “Don’t worry. I’ll clean you up my way first.”
You hid your face in your hands, torn between embarrassment and the slow curl of heat returning to your gut.
“You’re obsessed,” you whispered.
He smirked, licking his lips. “Damn right I am. You think I could watch my cum dripping out of you and not taste it?”
He was already grabbing a warm towel, muttering apologies as he kissed your temple.
“But still, I should’ve slowed down sooner,” he said softly. “You’re so sensitive right now. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You were perfect,” you whispered.
He was careful with the cleanup. Gentle between your thighs. Talking to you the whole time.
“You did so good for me,” he murmured. “Such a pretty girl. Always so sweet when you’re all soft like this.”
You whimpered when the towel grazed your clit, and he immediately soothed you with a kiss to the cheek.
“I’ve got you, baby. Just a little more, and I’ll get you in the bath.”
Once he was done, he helped you into the bathroom, set you in a warm soak with Epsom salts, and sat beside the tub rubbing circles into your calf.
“You’re always like this when you’re ovulating, huh?” he said, smiling gently. “All needy and messy and desperate.”
“Shut up,” you muttered, flushing.
He leaned in and kissed your nose.
“I fucking love it.”
You splashed a bit of water at him with your toes, but your body was too wrecked to hold a proper pout. When he stood and started peeling off his shirt again, you blinked up at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting in. You think I’m letting you float around in here alone?”
You opened your mouth to argue, but the weight of the day and of him made the thought of being close again too tempting to resist.
He climbed in behind you, easing your back into his chest with a contented sigh. The water shifted around you both, warmer with his skin against yours.
The sound of his heartbeat against your back slowed, each thud syncing with your breathing.
His body stayed wrapped around you, chest flush to your spine, arm curved protectively over your middle like he was afraid you'd slip through his fingers.
San didn’t move right away, he just let you breathe. And you were so grateful because you didn’t have the words yet.
Your body was limp, trembling in the comedown, your thighs sticky with sweat and slick and the warm, wet mess he’d left inside you.
But your chest was tight too, overwhelmed. You blinked, and tears welled again. This time, not from overstimulation, not from pain.
Just from everything. It was too much and not enough, you missed him, needed him, you had him, and it still didn’t feel like enough.
He kissed your shoulder softly.
But eventually, the bath cooled and your skin started to prickle.
He helped you out first, wrapped you in one of his shirts, dried your legs with a towel so gentle it made your eyes sting again.
“Couch?” he murmured.
You nodded, lips too soft and sore to bother forming words. He led you there with a hand at the small of your back, settled down with you tucked between his legs again, a blanket thrown loosely over both of your bodies.
“Hey…” he murmured. “You okay?”
You nodded against the couch pillow, but your throat burned.
Then your voice cracked, so small. “I think I’m gonna cry again.”
“Oh, baby…”
He turned you gently, shifting so he could face you. One hand cupped your cheek, the other sliding up your side, grounding you.
You were blinking fast, tears falling for no reason you could name, and San just held you through it, no judgment, no questions.
“Come here,” he whispered, gathering you into his lap. “S’okay, let it out.”
You curled into him like it was instinct.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you sniffled, nuzzling his neck.
“I just—everything feels so much. Like my body’s on fire, and I want you again, but I’m tired, and I love you, but I also want to scream, and—”
“I know,” he said instantly. “You don’t have to explain it. Hormones are insane. You’re feeling everything at once, and I’m just glad you’re telling me.”
You breathed shakily, nose pressed to his damp skin.
“You’re not mad?”
He chuckled, warm and breathy.
“Mad? Baby, I’m honored I get to hold you like this. I love this part—when it’s just us. After everything. When you’re all soft and sleepy and honest.”
You bit your lip, more tears spilling. “You’re too sweet to me.”
“No, I’m not,” he said. “You deserve all of this. I mean it.”
He kissed the top of your head, then your forehead, then your damp cheeks.
You curled tighter into him, arms around his neck. “Don’t leave again.”
He smiled against your temple. “You know I have to. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m here. All yours.”
You relaxed with a shaky exhale, and you felt it again.
A pulse low in your belly, a flutter of need, small but insistent.
You whimpered, shifting against his thigh. San froze, then pulled back just enough to look at you, brows furrowed, lips parted.
“…you’re turned on again?”
You blinked, ashamed. “I can’t help it. I think my body’s just—”
He kissed you before you could finish, not hungry or desperate. Just slow, lazy, and familiar.
Then he smirked. “We don’t have to move.”
He slid one hand between your thighs, easily, your folds still soaked, slick still leaking from your entrance.
“Fuck, baby,” he muttered. “You’re dripping down your thighs. I think you really do want a second round.”
You whined, burying your face in his chest. “We can’t. I’m so sensitive—”
“Shh,” he whispered, stroking you gently. “No pressure. Just let me touch you. I’ll be soft this time. No thrusting, no roughness. Just slow circles… like this.”
He rubbed his fingers in slow motion against your clit, barely-there pressure, but enough to make your hips twitch. You squirmed in his lap, helpless, lips falling open.
Your voice was small. “That feels so nice…”
“I know, baby,” he whispered. “That’s all I wanna do. Just give you this. No more tears. Just good things.”
And he kept rubbing, gentle and warm and hypnotic. Your breathing grew heavier, head tipping back against his shoulder as he coaxed you into it.
No demands, no commands. Just yes, baby, good girl, let go for me again.
You came with a soft gasp, legs trembling, toes curling, arms still locked around his neck. This time it didn’t hurt, it just eased something. A calm orgasm, full of warmth and release.
After, he kissed your temple again. “There she is.”
You were silent for a moment—then you mumbled, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this emotionally insane and also completely at peace.”
San laughed quietly. “That’s love, baby.”
You huffed a teary, dazed laugh, then whispered against his collarbone:
“Next time you’re on tour and I’m ovulating, I might die.”
He held you tighter.
“Next time, I’m flying you out.”
You didn’t even register that you were crying until San thumbed another tear from your cheek.
“I got you,” he whispered. “That’s it. Let it all out.”
Every nerve felt raw and stretched thin under the weight of too much pleasure, too much closeness, too much him.
At some point, he cleaned you up again. Grabbed a warm cloth and murmured quiet little things like he always does.
You’re okay, I’m right here, just breathe for me, baby, as he wiped you down and slipped one of his shirts over your head. The soft cotton dragged over your hypersensitive skin like a second set of hands.
Just you in his arms, half-buzzed, cheek pressed to his collarbone as he settled the two of you into the cushions. The night air through the window was cool; his skin was warm against yours.
He curled behind you and draped a new throw blanket over your bodies, pulling you into his chest like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space.
“All clingy and messy and fucking desperate.”
You groaned, flushing. “Hush.”
He leaned in and kissed your nose. “My favorite love.”
His heartbeat thudded against your back, slow and steady. You let yourself sink into him, body heavy, brain soft. All of it, the wreckage of pleasure, the gentle care, the calm after, wrapped around you like a cocoon.
A few minutes passed before you mumbled, “…I didn’t even realize it was ovulation week at first.”
San tilted his head down. “You’ve been on the red zone of that app since Wednesday.”
You blinked. “You checked my period app?”
He huffed a laugh. “Babe. You made me download it so I’d stop offering you milkshakes when you’re cramping.”
“…Right.”
You reached for your phone and pulled up the app.
Sure enough: Cycle Day 17. Fertile Window.
A bubble popped up with a cutesy message: 🩷 “You may be extra sensitive, sensual, or emotionally intense today!”
You snorted. “They forgot ‘will sob uncontrollably while getting railed.’”
San peeked over your shoulder. “Oh, I’d swipe right on that.”
Another notification popped up, this time from your group chat.
woowoo:
bitch are you okay??
or just too full of dick to respond???
joongie:
at least confirm you’re ALIVE you were ghosting us mid-tour and now radio silence???
mingithingi:
when u coming back? imy
You started typing through a laugh.
you:
alive. sore. not sorry. imy2 also tell wooyoung i hope he steps on a lego
San took your phone, added:
san:
don’t worry. she’s hydrated, stretched, and fully taken care of. she doesn’t miss u mingi.
Then he tossed it back onto the coffee table and tucked his face against your neck, one hand sliding under your shirt to rest on the warm skin of your belly.
“You good?” he murmured.
You shook your head yes, “Just wrecked.”
“Wanna cry some more?”
“Dunno, maybe.”
“I got you.” He kissed your shoulder. “Always.”
The ovulation app chimed softly in the background, like it knew exactly what it had done.
𝜗ৎ playback pussy's sequel, she's finally here. i swore may was going to be the month i took a small break, but i couldn't leave this doc alone (back into hibernation i go, for now). this can be read standalone, but for more context on their dynamics i rec reading pp too <33
Putting in your earrings has never presented more of a struggle until now.
You’re chipping the side of your nails, your ears are irritated, the stack doesn’t look good, and you can’t find your favorite hoops. In short, you’re a disaster, a silent one.
Because pissed is not the word, you're sure the word you’re looking for doesn’t exist.
You continue to put on your jewelry, give up on perfecting your earring stack–focus on your bracelet bangles instead. The led bathroom light at hotels always hides blemishes well, but you know the real look will be shown in the car mirror.
You look damn good regardless, and you’re about to make him sick to his stomach. You’re one to sweep things under the rug, but your blood is boiling, it matches the deep maroon of your dress. Your collarbones on display, a slit so high you think about pinning the threads together.
You go to clasp the necklace around your neck, you almost drop it after you’re hit with the most annoying memory.
The memory of walking in on Mingi getting his makeup done before a shoot, the artist engrossed in conversation with him, hands lingering too long on his jaw, his smile showing all thirty-two, her tripping over him, and her hands landing on his thighs.
The moment when Mingi glances up to see you holding his favorite soup and vitamin water, your ritual, your routine. He doesn’t acknowledge what just happened, doesn’t think it was a big deal. But you’re a girl, and you’re a girl with a very hot, very tall, very talented, lusted-after boyfriend.
This was definitely a big deal.
Mingi came home later that night, continued with the dismissal of it all. His words, “it’s just work, baby. No issues.”
You nod, turn back over in bed, you gave him no more words. He assumed all was well, that no response was a great response in his book. You fell asleep scheming as he joined you and engulfed you in his arms that night.
You try to push the memory to the back of your mind as you look at yourself again in the mirror, you’re genuinely satisfied with how you look. Is it a little skimpy for a company event? Possibly, maybe…but that’s not the point. The point is to see Mingi rage.
You arrive at the venue alone, you were gifted separate rooms for the event. While you love him, you’re grateful for the time spent apart. It’s very upscale, it’s the annual awards event, everyone is here. Flowy table cloths, organized cutlery, dimmed chandelier lights exude class in the air.
You’re already thinking about getting fast food afterwards because you know the finger food about to be served will not be filling in the slightest.
Tables are assigned, but artist partners are seated at the same table. You immediately glance over the makeup artist's table. Gross, and scan for the boy with blonde hair with light pink tips.
You find Mingi talking in a corner, a glass in his hand. Not sure who he’s conversing with, but he looks good. Hair has grown out longer, his suit fits him in all the right places, you’re salivating even when you’re supposed to be angry.
He still hasn’t looked your way as you still stand near the entrance until a hand graces your back, rings sending a shiver up your spine. The soft voice didn’t fall on deaf ears.
“Standing here like a deer in headlights, huh?” You could feel the smile in Hongjoong’s voice without turning around to even look at him.
“That obvious am I?”
“Very, come sit over here. Mingi is at the same table as me.” Hongjoong keeps his hand on the small of your back as he guides you to the table, pulls out your chair for you, and sits right next to you. His scent is intoxicating, always has been lately.
Chatter is loud around you, both sitting in silence as you make eye contact with Mingi, still standing in the corner. You look away immediately, you don’t smile, don’t flutter your lashes. Just a blank face is all he gets in your book.
You know it’s eating him up inside by the way his body glitches between leaving his current conversation or approaching your table. But the formality has to remain due to the fact that there are eyes everywhere, the media is everywhere, and your body language is not very inviting.
Time goes on for a little while in silence at the table, until Hongjoong turns towards you. You can tell he’s just as bored, just as unoccupied.
“I have a needle and thread in my jacket pocket if you need it.”
You furrow your eyebrows at him, confused. Give him a huh sound for him to elaborate a little further.
“That slit. Too high.” You laugh, genuinely. You know it’s high, but you know you’re not receiving an award, so there shouldn’t be as many eyes on you compared to the other people that are here.
“Bothering you?”
Hongjoong smirks, “a little.”
You lean in, “Tragic, hope you can find a remedy. Your needle and thread are not needed, dork.” Hongjoong laughs, leans back, and keeps his eyes on you. You match his intensity, the conversation flows, your laughs are free, the focus is all on him.
“You ever crave something so bad, like dessert or a fruit? Like I’d love some cherries right now.” Hongjoong asks the question, seriously, it’s not rhetorical. He asks while also trying to find the answer for himself.
You lean in, chuckle a bit, because cherries feel like such a random thing to crave right now. “I do, I crave lots of things. But I normally don’t wallow in the want of it. Pretty sure you could get some cherries somewhere around here.”
Hongjoong smiles and nods in agreement. “You’re right, you look like one. Looks like I found it–you look good tonight if someone hasn’t let you know already.”
Your pulse fastens, he’s smooth with his words. The only thing you can do is smile, because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the way he spoke.
Mingi still hasn’t come over to greet you or even sit down, he is constantly glancing over his shoulder to see you fawning over his bandmate. Memories of the three of you before flooding his mind aren't helping as he clutches his glass.
Hongjoong isn’t dumb, you never thought he was. He’s very quick to catch on to things, knows there’s something brewing underneath, but he’s not going to say a word because you’re beautiful and you’re paying attention to just him.
You’re both in the middle of laughing about when Jongho made Mingi chase their car when Hongjoong’s hand lands on your thigh. His hand lingers, seems not to care about any wandering eyes. You don’t pull away, you shift a little in your seat, his hand brushing your skin, the slit of your dress rising even more.
His hands are warm, dainty with rings adorning them. His fingers spread with a firm grip, if he holds on any longer, he may leave an imprint. You look down at his hand, tracing around his hand with your fingers. Your thighs subtly press together, Hongjoong takes note of it, the eye contact between you two lasts for about thirty seconds.
Thirty seconds of such charged energy, what you’ve created.
Mingi’s daily glance at you catches it, the way Hongjoong is leaning over, but his eyes, looking up at you, see the placement of hands. His jaw tightens, and he sets his drink down by a nearby podium. His body is completely tense, no longer relaxed, brushing it all off is not going to suffice much longer. You can feel it across the room, but you still don’t focus on Mingi, you hone all of your attention to Hongjoong.
At this point, Hongjoong is painfully aware of the energy bouncing off you two.
Mingi tries to catch your attention anytime he can, shifts in your peripheral vision constantly, talks a little louder than normal. You pay him no mind. You keep turning towards Hongjoong, you’ve scooted your chair so much it’s touching his.
“So any new gossip, any new love interest? I saw that rumor about you being with—”
Hongjoong stops you, fingers pressing into your leg as he talks. “Nope, just rumors…Not really interested.” He’s testing you, your reaction, seeing if what he’s doing is okay, also knows you asked him a loaded question.
From onlookers, it looks like two friends chatting it up. But between the three of you, you know it’s quite the opposite.
Your heart is racing, his touch bringing memories you haven’t acknowledged in a while. You’re suffocating, not in a bad way, but in a way of not knowing what to do. You stand from the table, smooth out your dress, huff out a bit of air. “Bathroom real quick, be right back.”
Hongjoong nods. He doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, goes back to looking at his phone as you move through the standing crowds to find the bathroom.
You check yourself in the bathroom mirror, despite your blood rushing, you still look good. You have no clue when the actual announcing of the awards is going to start, and killing the time with Hongjoong has put you in a very, very tough predicament.
You’re in the bathroom longer than anticipated, Hongjoong stands up from his table to go find you, making sure no one has cornered you or to make sure you haven’t fallen into the toilet. The latter wouldn’t surprise him.
He’s nosy by nature, but so curious when it comes to you. He wants to know what’s really going on with you.
As you push the door open, you’re met with Hongjoong’s face, his hand up, looking like he was about to knock. You step back a bit as he caught you off guard, and the fact that it’s the women’s restroom. “You okay in here?”
You think for a second, you’re in private, and you can tell he’s offering an out that you’re not about to take. The tension is too much for you. “No–no. Not at fucking all.”
Hongjoong motions for you to step further into the bathroom some more, he steps fully in, closing the door behind him. He steps closer to you, concern in his eyes. “What’s going on? You’ve been in here for a bit.”
“Actually, nothing, nothing. I’m good. We should get back out there.” You’re lying, he knows it. Neither of you moves toward the door.
“No, we’re not doing this. What is it really? Mingi? Me?” Hongjoong’s voice has gone even softer, it cradles you in a way that makes you want to spill your guts to him. But your expression is what gives it all away, that all of this is about someone else and not him.
“Is this—” He starts, then stops. Moves closer to you. “Does he know?” You shake your head, shoulders kind of slouch over. Hongjoong pushes your shoulders back up, fixes your posture as his thumbs come up to brush over your cheeks.
You don’t push back, you lean into him, and your body language is all telling. Hongjoong feels it, he lets his hand linger, his eyes pouring into yours, red creeping up his neck and over his shirt collar.
“You said you’d wanted cherries, right? Would you eat one without permission even though the lips it’s meant for are standing out there?”
Hongjoong’s hand comes up to caress your collarbones, then moves up to gently squeeze your neck. He’s breathing hard, nose is flared as he bites his lip. His restraint is slipping away, but it’s completely gone when you go to smash your lips onto his.
Your tongues are tied when the swinging of the bathroom door is heard. Hongjoong didn’t lock it. The only thing locked is your eyes with Mingi’s.
Hongjoong’s back is to Mingi, but he can feel the looming presence behind him when he feels you pull back a bit. Knows it’s Mingi behind him, but he’s not profusely apologizing to you, he’s frozen, doesn’t move.
Mingi’s eyes immediately go dark. He doesn’t say anything, everyone is standing in silence. All you can feel is his fury, the possessiveness as he clenches his hands. The way he’s looking at the back of Hongjoong is nothing short of scary, his eyes don’t leave him.
Hongjoong slowly turns around, steps back a little to look at Mingi. He knows the line he’s crossing, Mingi had given permission before–not this time, and that’s where he fucked up. You have not moved a limb, part of you feels guilty, and the other part is turned on.
Mingi’s eyes do not leave either of yours as he reaches back to lock the restroom door, effectively trapping all of you together.
“Having fun, dear?” He looks directly at you, fingers motion for you to come. You don’t move, which makes him laugh a bit, he’s entertained and pissed at the same time. He then begins to walk past Hongjoong to get to you.
Mingi's hands wrap around your throat before you can even breathe. He’s mad, but the bulge in his pants also lets you know he’s fucking horny. His thumb presses harder against the evident vein in your neck, feeling your fast pulse.
“You think I didn’t see that shit?” His voice goes lower, “every single fucking second of it.”
Hongjoong hasn’t moved, he chooses to wait and watch because he knows this dance, knows better than to speak first.
Mingi’s other hand slides down your side, his fingers catch on the slit of the dress, dragging it higher up your thigh. “This isn’t how it went down last time, baby.” Your breath hitches, the memory of being in this position before, but this time, there’s no kind of negotiation.
There’s no couch or soft blankets, a track on loop with your voice on it. Right now, it’s just cold tile, locked doors, and the threat of industry sitting outside the door. “Mingi–”
He cuts you off with his lips, his tongue enters without full permission, teeth catch your bottom lip enough to make you bleed. When he pulls back, your gloss is smeared all over his mouth.
“Don’t.” Mingi turns his head slightly, glancing back to Hongjoong, finally acknowledging his presence. “You. Come here.”
Hongjoong doesn’t move with hesitancy, he steps so close to you that you can feel the pure lust radiating off of him. His hands find your waist like he knows what sets you off, what gets you going, and the reality of it, he actually does.
Mingi sees it, how you move like familiars. The way Hongjoong’s fingers press into your hip, that spot that makes you a little whiny, and arch into the touch.
“You remember how she sounds.” Mingi’s voice is rough, you can tell he’s on edge.
Hongjoong gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah. I do.”
“Lovely.” Mingi’s hand slides from your throat down to your chest, palming your breast through the fabric. “Then you know what happens when she gets what she wants.”
You’re closer to the wall now, you head falls back against it as both of them close in on you. Mingi’s mouth is all over your neck, biting down hard. You won’t be able to go back into the award ceremony, he knows this. All the while, Hongjoong’s hand slips under the slit of your dress, trailing up.
“Guys–” You gasp, and Mingi lets out a laugh.
Mingi shuts you up, yanking down the top part of your dress, exposing your breasts, your necklace swaying back and forth between them.
“Fuck,” Hongjoong breathes out, eyes locked on your chest. His hand doesn’t falter, he cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens under his touch, the coldness of the restroom adding to it all.
Mingi’s eyes zone in on Hongjoong’s movements, “You’re not shy anymore.”
“Mmm. Should I be?” Hongjoong’s voice stays steady as his other hand moves under your dress to graze the edge of your panties. You gasp, hips jerking. Mingi catches your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Eyes on me.”
Hongjoong doesn’t care, his fingers slip inside your panties, finding you already wet, and your eyes flutter shut immediately. “She’s leaking,” he murmurs. He drags two fingers through your folds, “just like last time.”
Mingi’s grip on your jaw tightens, “Don’t fucking compare.”
“How come?” Hongjoong’s fingers circle your clit, and you whimper. “Her body acts the same way, gets this wet when she’s between us.”
“Hongjoong.” Mingi puts his mouth back onto yours before you can even finish your sentence. His kiss is brutal while Hongjoong continues to scissor you with his fingers. You look like a mess, shaking already, and overwhelmed by the sensations.
Mingi pulls back, breathing hard. “You think you can make her cum before I do?”
Hongjoong’s eyes flash, then a quick smirk on his lips. “I swear I’ve already done that once before.”
Mingi goes still, his hand sliding down to grip your hip harder. “When?”
“Few weeks ago, actually.” Hongjoong’s fingers push inside you even more, and you cry out. “Came on my tongue while you were in that merch meeting or whatever.”
You’re blue in the face from the lack of air that just left your body, you’re shocked, but also laughing on the inside. Knows lying to Mingi makes him go harder, and that’s exactly what you want–what you need.
“Fuck you, fuck this.” Mingi yanks your dress up higher, exposing your legs completely. “She tell you that, or you just running your mouth?”
“She didn’t have to.” Hongjoong continues with his lie as he curls his fingers, hitting your spot. “I could taste how much she needed it.”
Mingi’s hand joins Hongjoong’s between your legs, both hands stretching you wider as fingers glide. You sob, you’re losing the muscle to stand up. “Mingi—fuck, I can’t.”
“Oh no no. Yes, the fuck you can.” His voice is harsh in your ear, “You wanted his attention so bad tonight. Guess what, sweetie—now you got both of us.”
Hongjoong’s thumb finds your clit while Mingi’s fingers pump inside you, they’re working together instead of against one another. Your thighs tremble, gasping as you struggle for air. “She’s close,” Hongjoong says as he watches your face with great intent. “Look at her.”
That only makes Mingi mad all over again. “You don’t get to make her cum I can tell you that much.”
“Then stop me.”
Mingi’s hand moves away and spins you around, making Hongjoong remove his hand. Mingi presses your chest against the wall, your dress bunches around your waist, ass on display for the both of them.
Mingi unbuckles his belt, the sound of the zipper being the loudest thing in the room. Hongjoong moves to your side, his hand sliding up your spine. “You good?”
You nod, and he leans in to kiss you while Mingi gets behind you. His cock presses against you, thick and hard as ever, and he pushes in without giving you any warning. You pull away from the kiss to scream his name when Mingi slams in.
“Yeah baby, say my name, not his.”
Hongjoong turns your face toward him again, making you maintain eye contact with him while Mingi fucks the living daylights out of you. He twiddles with your necklace as it sways back and forth from the rough pace Mingi has set.
“You’re so pretty like this.” Hongjoong whispers, breath hitting your face.
Mingi’s hand fists in your hair, messing up the careful style you put it in for the night. He yanks your head back some more, “This pretty is mine.”
“Then why’d she let me kiss her tonight?” Hongjoong’s voice almost sounds amused. “Why’d she let me touch her at that table?”
Mingi’s hips stutter, and he grits through his teeth. “Because she wanted to piss me off.”
“Did it work?”
“Fuck yes, it worked obviously.” Mingi’s voice cracks, “I hated watching you touch her, hated seeing her smile at you like that.”
Your heart is pounding, you wouldn’t be surprised if you saw it on the tile floor at this point. Hongjoong’s thumb brushes your lower lip, smudging the gloss even more. “She’s got you fucked up,” Hongjoong says softly.
“Royally fucked up.” Mingi agrees, and his pace doesn’t slow, his cock driving into you with no mercy. “And you’re not helping.”
Hongjoong looks at Mingi to smirk, “wasn’t trying to.”
You’re close, the pressure is building, walls constantly clenching around Mingi’s cock, he feels it, and his hand slides around to rub your clit in rough circles. “Cum for me, and only me.”
Hongjoong disregards his words. He moves to your neck, sucking hard. Trying to leave a mark that overlaps with Mingi’s. Hongjoong’s hand then goes to cover Mingi’s, pressing even harder against your clit. “You can do it for both of us.”
Your orgasm hits you hard, Mingi groans as you puls around him. He doesn’t last much longer as he spills everything he has inside you. Your legs shake, and Mingi rests along your back as his hands grip your hips.
Hongjoong steps back slowly, hand trailing down your arm before he lets go completely. His lips and face are left with the evidence of you.
Mingi pulls out carefully, the sound echoing. He adjusts your dress before turning you back around. His eyes are still dark like he’s not done, like there’s no way he’d stop right here. “We’re not finished,” his thumb brushes your swollen lip.
Hongjoong adds on, sitting on the opposite wall, watching everything unfold in front of him. “Didn’t think we were.”
“Go out first,” Mingi says to Hongjoong, “we’ll follow in a minute.”
Hongjoong fixes his collar and slips out the door without another word. The second it clicks shut, Mingi’s hand is back in your hair. He yanks you to face him directly. “Knees now.” Mingi takes off his jacket, puts it on the floor, points to where you need to be
You sink down slowly onto the cloth of his jacket. He’s still half hard, still slick with you and him, and the sight makes your mouth water. “Open up for me.” He doesn’t ease in, just pushes into your mouth till you’re gagging around him.
Your hands go straight to his thighs, nails digging in, but he doesn’t stop. He just holds you there as your eyes begin to water, makeup surely isn’t lasting.
“You wanted to make me so fucking jealous, to let him touch you like that–just a damn slut.” You can’t breathe, just gagging as he pulls back and thrusts deeper. Spit drips down your chin, he wipes some up with his thumb and pops it into his mouth, mascara’s running even more.
“Can you say anything? You were a fucking chatterbox at the table. Or are you too full of my cock right now?”
He pulls back to give you a small breath to speak, “It was worth it.” He pushes right back in, your throat burns, and your jaw aches, but you don’t pull away. You take it all.
When he pulls out completely, you’re gasping, drool and cum smeared across your lips, he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him.
“Shit. Go fix yourself,” he’s still angry, you can hear it in his voice, “then get back to the damn table.”
You nod, legs shaking as you stand, your reflection is scary to look at, it’s progressively gotten worse. Lips swollen, eyes glossed over, throat a fucking abstract painting. Mingi tucks himself back in, adjusting his shirt. “And don’t take too long.” He leaves right after.
You stand there for a moment, still tasting him on your tongue, until you get a text.
joong: vip lounge. upstairs, now
You don’t listen to Mingi out of pure rebellion, out of still being agitated. You head in the opposite direction from the main ceremony.
The lounge is dimmed, plush velvet couches. It’s meant for the donors and execs of the event, but it’s empty since everyone has filtered into the main room. You can hear the muffled sound of applause starting downstairs as you push open the door.
Hongjoong’s already inside, leaning against the back of the couch. He straightens when he sees you, eyes looking over your appearance that you put in no effort to fix.
“Fuck–” he breathes, “he really–”
You walk up to him, grab his tie, and pull him down into a kiss. He groans into your mouth, tasting Mingi on your tongue, and you feel him get harder. His hands find your waist, pulling you against him. “You taste like him,” he whispers, and he’s not complaining.
“I know. Now you’re going to make me taste like you.” You push him back onto the couch, his thighs spread and cock straining against his dress pants. You straddle him, and his hands grip your thighs.
You pull out your phone.
“What are you–”
You dial Mingi, and he picks up on the first ring. “Baby? Where are you? The ceremony’s starting—”
You lean forward and kiss Hongjoong slowly, tongue sliding against his while Mingi’s voice booms through the speaker. “Hello? You there?”
You pull back from Hongjoong’s mouth, breathless. “I’m here, honey.”
“Where the fuck did you go? I’ve been waiting–”
“Wanna hear something?” You interrupt his thoughts, tired of him having his way.
There’s a pause, then you can hear the weariness in his voice. “What?”
You set the phone down on the armrest, speaker on, and grind against Hongjoong’s cock. He hisses, hands tightening.
“I get to make my own special track now,” Hongjoong says, eyes locked on yours. He pushes your dress to expose the wet mess between your legs. Silence on the other end of the phone until Mingi speaks again. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Vip lounge,” you say, rolling your hips again. “Upstairs.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“You’re going to fucking listen.” Your hand slides down to palm Hongjoong through his pants, and he groans. “You’re going to sit through that ceremony and smile for the cameras while I let him fuck me. Understand?”
Barely audible over the phone, Mingi groans. “Fuck.”
Hongjoong’s hands are yanking your panties to the side, fingers sliding through your slick folds again. “Jesus, you’re so soaked still,” he says loud enough for the phone to pick up. “You this wet from him? Or from knowing he’s listening?”
“Both,” you gasp as two fingers push inside you. Through the phone, you hear Mingi’s sharp breath. Hongjoong pumps his fingers slowly, curling them upwards, and you whimper. “She’s dripping down my hand,” like he’s narrating an audiobook for Mingi, “clenching around my fingers. You should feel how tight she is.”
“Hongjoong—” Mingi’s voice is strained.
“What?” Hongjoong pulls his fingers out, sucks them clean. His eyes roll back, “fuck she tastes good. You already knew that, though.”
You fumble with his belt, can barely focus as you shake with need. He helps you to free his cock, he’s leaking and flushed. You wrap your hand around him, stroking, and he groans.
“She’s got her hand on my cock now,” Hongjoong says, head falling back again, “stroking me, fuck–tighter, baby, just like that.”
You listen and twist your wrist the way he likes, and precum beads at the tip, you swipe your thumb through it, bringing it to your lips.
“She just licked my precum off her thumb,” He’s still reporting everything with a wrecked voice, “while looking right at me.”
Through the phone, you hear someone speaking to Mingi. His voice is strained when he responds, “Yeah. I’m fine. Just give me a sec.”
You try your hardest not to laugh, you go to line Hongjoong up and sink down onto his cock in one motion. The sound you make is desperate and loud.
“Holy hell,” he chokes out. You start moving, riding him hard. Your dress is bunched up, tits bouncing in his face with every thrust, Hongjoong is going cross-eyed.
You’re so wet the squelches fill the room, you know Mingi can hear it through the speaker. “Hongjoong–” you gasp, “fuck you’re so deep.”
“Yeah?” he thrusts up to meet your pace, “tell him. Tell him how deep i am.”
“So deep,” you moan, much louder now. “Filling me up–fuck.”
Mingi makes a choked noise, Hongjoong’s hand comes up, wrapping around the necklace. It’s actually a necklace Mingi gifted you. He pulls it, using it as leverage to pull you down harder onto his cock.
“This his?”
You nod, eyes watering as he pulls tighter. “Damn. You really give no fucks.” He shifts you right away, flipping you onto your back, your legs wrap around his waist as he ruts into you deeper and harder. “Hongjoong, please–”
“Please, what?” He slows down, grinding deep as you whimper. “Say it loud enough for him to hear.”
“Please harder—fuck I need it.”
He slams so hard the couch moves against the floor, his hand finds your clit, and rubs. Through the phone, Mingi’s voice has little control, “Hongjoong–”
“She’s close. She’s about to cum on this cock.”
“No–” Mingi starts, but you’re already losing it. Your body arches off the couch, a broken scream ripping from your throat. Hongjoong groans as you clench around him. You sob through it, Hongjoong’s name on your lips over and over, he keeps fucking you through it.
“Hey Mingi, she just came so hard she’s crying by the way.” There are tears streaming down your face, and it doesn’t stop. Hongjoong pulls out and bends you over the arm of the couch, then slams in from behind.
“Oh fuck–” you gasp, hands trying to find something to hold onto.
“One more for me–give me one more.” He fucks you brutally, skin slapping, his hand comes down on your ass, and you moan.
“She likes being spanked. Ooo Mingi, you got it good.” Mingi doesn’t answer, just breathes heavy through the phone. Hongjoong picks up the pace again, and you feel another orgasm coming. He overstimulates your clit, and you scream.
Hongjoong pumps you a few more times before he’s spilling inside you, you feel every pulse and twitch, making you clench around him again. For a moment, you can only hear the mingling of heavy breathing between the three of you.
Then downstairs, a loud sound of applause indicating someone has won an award. Hongjoong pulls out slowly, and you feel his cum start to drip down your legs. He collapses onto the couch, and you slump against the armrest, pure exhaustion.
You reach over with an unsteady hand, picking up the phone. Your voice is completely wrecked. “He just came inside me…I can feel it dripping out.” Then you hang up.
Hongjoong laughs beside you. “He’s gonna get you for that.”
mymingithingi: ur gonna quit fuckin playin w/ me.
You stare at the screen with a smile, heart still racing, cum sticky between your thighs, then you toss the phone onto the couch and close your eyes for a quick power nap.
Thirty minutes later, you’re back at the table. You’ve cleaned up as best as one could, given the circumstances. You fixed your lip combo, covered up the marks as best you could, smoothed down your dress, tamed your hair. But there’s no hiding the tremor in your hands and the way you walk like you still have a cock stuck up your ass.
Mingi’s still seated, doesn’t look at you when you sit down beside him. The ceremony’s still going, someone’s giving an acceptance speech.
Mingi’s hand slides under the table, finding your thigh. His grip is firm. “Smile, baby,” he says, deadly calm. “We’re being photographed.”
You smile, one flash and a click, then his hand moves higher, fingers pressing against the wet mess between your legs through your dress.
“You’re going to sit here,” he leans in like he’s whispering sweet nothings, “and feel him dripping out of you, and you’re going to think about what happens when we get home.”
You go still. His other hand comes up, adjusting your necklace, the one he gave you. The one Hongjoong used to leverage you with. Mingi straightens it carefully, gently, then leans in close enough so his lips brush your ear.
“At the end of the day, this is mine. And I’m going to remind you what the fucking definition of ‘mine’ means for the rest of the night.” He pulls back once more, smiles for the camera, and you realize your hands are shaking.
Across the table, Hongjoong catches your eye. He still looks a mess, hair messy and tie loose. Mingi notices, and his hand tightens around you.
“Both of you,” voice low enough that only you and Hongjoong hear. “When we leave here. Our place.”
Hongjoong only smiles, but your stomach is dropping into your ass. You thought tonight would get you even, would satiate your anger. Instead, you’ve made everything ten times worse.
✦ warnings: smut, nsfw. m/f/m threesome, oral, rough and gentle interplay, overstimulation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasmssss, consensual non-monogamy, praise kink, dirty talk, teasing, public/private setting (studio), use of recording equipment during sex, aftercare, reader & mingi in established relationship!!
✦ enjoy 4k words of filth, mingi and joonie are my bias wreckers so this was coming sooner or later lmao
edit: the pt 2 to this is now posted!! — cherry cravin’
Soup.
Warm, harmless. Comfort food. Not exactly the kind of thing you'd expect to end with your voice echoing through a studio mic, soaked in sweat and begging for release.
You’d only dropped by the studio because you knew he hadn’t eaten. The bag in your hand was still warm, the lid on the takeout container slightly fogged up. But the moment you stepped into the booth room and saw Mingi hunched over the mixing board, headphones askew, brows furrowed, lower lip between his teeth, you knew food was the last thing on his mind.
“Baby,” you said softly, setting the bag down. “Have you eaten anything since noon?”
“Mm… I had a vitamin water?” he said without looking up, then immediately perked up as you leaned over his shoulder. “Wait—did you bring—oh my god, I love you.”
You grinned. “I know. But do you love me more than this track?”
He spun in his chair, tossing the headphones onto the desk. “Hard question. It’s a sexy track. You wanna hear it?”
He hit play without waiting for an answer.
The beat rolled out of the speakers like smoke. Slow, sensual, laced with deep synth and breathy background vocals. You raised a brow. “This is… different.”
“It’s called Velvet Ash,” he said, grinning. “It’s kind of dirty. Too dirty for the album, probably.”
“Mm. Sounds like foreplay.”
Mingi leaned back in the chair, letting his knees fall apart as he looked at you. “Exactly. But it’s missing something.”
You sipped your drink. “What, more moaning?”
His grin widened. “Exactly.”
You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You want me to moan into the mic, don’t you?”
“Honestly? After bringing me soup instead of sucking me off in the hallway, I think you owe me.”
You threw a straw wrapper at him, but he was already standing, motioning toward the sound booth with a flick of his hand.
“Come on,” he said. “Just for fun. I want to hear how you sound through the headset.”
You hesitated for about half a second, and finally you walked into the booth.
Inside the booth, everything felt tighter. Darker. Your reflection glinted faintly in the glass. Behind it, Mingi leaned on the console, watching you with amusement and just a hint of heat.
You slipped the headphones on. The mic stood inches from your mouth, silver and cold, catching your breath even when you didn’t speak.
“Okay,” Mingi’s voice said through the headset, already lower. “Give me something.”
You smirked. “Like what?”
“Start with my name.”
You bit your lip and leaned in, the sound of your own voice strange in your ears. “Mingi.” A wave of heat pooled low in your belly, nerves tingling and something deeper blooming.
A beat passed and you heard him suck in a quiet breath.
“Again. Softer.”
“Mingi.”
“Fuck, baby…”
The track played softly in your ears now. He’d dropped in the instrumental beneath your voice, looping the synth under your breathy tone.
“Now… say it like you can feel my cock hitting that spot you can’t reach without me,” he murmured.
Your thighs pressed together.
“Mingi,” you said, a little needier this time, and the mic caught the edge of it. Your breath, the almost-whimper.
“Shit. Stay just like that.”
You watched him move, leaving the mixing board behind, disappearing from the window. A second later, the booth door creaked open behind you.
Mingi stepped in and shut it, the red “recording” light blinking above him like a warning. Your mouth parted, but he didn’t say anything. Just walked up behind you, big hands settling on your waist.
“I can hear everything,” he murmured against your ear, adjusting the mic so it was just above your lips. “Even your heartbeat. Wanna know what turns me on more than anything?”
“What?”
He leaned in close, voice just for you now.
“The way you sound when you fall apart for me.”
One hand slipped between your thighs, cupping your heat through your leggings. His palm was wide, warm, pressing slow and deliberate against your pussy until you let out a shaky gasp–and it echoed instantly through the mic. pressing gently over your clothes.
He grinned against your neck.
“There it is.”
In a fluid motion, he dragged your leggings down, kneeling behind you, kissing the back of your thigh as he eased them past your knees. Then his hands were on your ass, thumbs spreading you apart, his breath hot against your cunt as he leaned in and licked a slow stripe up your folds.
“Fuck–” you whimpered, legs twitching, your voice breaking into the mic.
Mingi groaned against you, tongue flicking your clit before he pulled back just slightly to look at you. “You’re soaked already–this pussy missed me, huh?”
You nodded, dazed, one hand braced on the mic stand as the other tangled into his hair.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Say how bad you missed my mouth.”
“I missed it, I missed your tongue–I missed everything.”
That was all he needed.
His mouth found, like he was starving, lips latching onto your clit while his tongue swirled fast and messy, not teasing anymore. "Gonna tell me what feels good?"
He buried his face between your legs, nose brushing your ass as he sucked your clit with so much pressure, letting out a deep growl that vibrated through your entire core.
The mic picked up everything, the wet, filthy sounds of his mouth working your cunt, the ragged gasps falling from your lips, the whispered “fuck, fuck, Mingi–”
Then he slid two fingers into you, they curled perfectly, hitting your sweet spot like he knew exactly where it was.
His pace was ruthless, tongue dragging over your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of your dripping hole, spreading you wider and deeper.
“Listen to yourself.”
“Lean into me, just like that, baby.”
You moaned helplessly. It was all so loud, his fingers squelching inside you, the wet drag of his tongue, your own desperate, breathless cries.
“Mingi–don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, hips rocking shamelessly against his face.
He slapped your ass hard enough to make you yelp. “Say it into the mic, pretty girl.”
You choked on a sob. “Mingi–please, I’m so close, I’m gonna–”
“Fucking cum for me, I wanna hear how you break when I make you finish.”
That did it.
Your whole body tensed, thighs shaking as the orgasm ripped through you. You cried out–loud, raw, moaning his name into the mic while your pussy clenched around his fingers and your knees nearly buckled.
But he didn’t stop.
He groaned like he was on your taste, lips dragging over your swollen clit again and again, tongue flicking until your body jerked and twitched and kept cumming, wave after wave rolling over you until you were boneless.
Only then did he finally pull back, his mouth and chin glistening. He kissed the inside of your thigh one last time, then stood slowly, towering over you as you tried to catch your breath.
“Fuck. That sound? He muttered, licking your taste off his lips. “That’s better than anything I’ve written.”
You didn’t have time to answer.
Under the dim booth lights, his pink hair was messy and pushed back from the headphones and casting golden shadows across his sharp cheekbones. A loose white tank clung to his torso, the neckline slipping wide over one shoulder. His black sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, revealing the deep cut of his V-line every time he moved towards you.
You had one hand gripping the mic stand. “Baby…” Your voice cracked, helpless.
“This mic’s not gonna survive tonight.”
You barely heard him over the blood rushing in your ears.
Your legs started to shake as the pressure built, every nerve lit up.
“Jesus,” you panted, letting him wrap an arm around your waist to steady you. “You—fucking—“
“Better than soup?” he teased.
You slapped his arm. “Shut up.”
But he only grinned and kissed you hard, one hand cupping your jaw as your taste lingered on his tongue. His other hand slipped behind your thigh, gripping it and tugging you forward until your hips met the hard length straining against his sweats.
You gasped into his mouth. “Mingi—”
“I need to be inside you,” he growled, forehead pressing against yours. “Can I?”
You didn’t answer. Just nodded and grabbed the waistband of his pants, pulling them down with a needy moan as his cock sprang free. It was thick, flushed red at the tip, already leaking.
You braced your hands on the mixing desk inside the booth, arching your back as you looked at him over your shoulder.
“Fuck me here. Just like this.”
He didn’t hesitate. His hand gripped your hip, the other guiding his cock between your folds, he was sliding in, slow but unrelenting, filling you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt.
“Holy fuck,” he groaned, forehead pressed to your shoulder. “You’re so fucking tight–gripping me like you don’t wanna let go.”
He started to move deep, hungry thrusts that made the desk creak and your voice rise. He pushed the mic closer to your mouth and whispered:
“Talk. I wanna hear every filthy fucking word.”
You moaned loud. “You feel so good–so deep, Mingi, fuck me harder, don’t stop baby.”
He slammed into you faster, rougher, his hips slapping against your ass as your tits bounced with every thrust. You could hear everything: his panting, your cries, the obscene wet sounds where your bodies met.
“I’m gonna cum inside you,” teeth sinking into your shoulder. “I’m gonna fill you up so deep it drips down your thighs.”
“Do it please, want you to–” you begged, tears threatening from the pressure building again.
He reached down and rubbed your clit with two fingers, fast and messy. “Come for me again, baby. Let the mic hear how my cock makes you unravel.”
Your vision blurred. The pressure exploded in your gut, your walls clenching tight around him as you screamed his name into the mic.
“Fuckkk–I’m cumming—” he gasped, then he was spilling inside you, groaning like an animal, thrusting deep as his release flooded your cunt.
You both collapsed against the desk, sweaty, shaking, barely breathing.
And the entire time?
The track kept looping softly in the background, now layered with the most explicit, honest take he’d ever captured.
A few minutes later, you lay curled in Mingi’s lap on the studio couch, your bare legs tucked beneath his hoodie, your head resting against his chest. His hand stroked lazily up and down your thigh, slow enough to calm your still-trembling muscles.
He had cleaned you up with one of his softest shirts, murmuring little apologies as he wiped between your thighs, even though his cock had twitched the whole time like he wanted to go another round.
Now, with your pulse finally settling, he fed you bites of lukewarm soup between kisses to your hairline.
“Think I blew your mic out,” you mumbled, voice hoarse, lips swollen.
Mingi chuckled, low and pleased, rubbing his knuckles against your hip. “You blew me out.”
You snorted, eyes fluttering closed. “I’m serious. That mic probably short-circuited the second I screamed.”
He shifted slightly to grab his laptop from the desk and hit play. The track rolled through the studio monitors again–still smoky, still sensual–but now layered with something new; your breathy moans spliced into the background like vocals, tucked between beats like a secret only he could hear.
You looked up, shocked. “Wait, is that seriously me?”
He smiled, eyes dark. “You said not to use the whole thing. You didn’t say I couldn’t sample you.”
“Babe, are you insane?”
“Insanely inspired,” he said, all smug affection. “You sound better than any synth I’ve ever layered. Your voice moves.”
You groaned and buried your face in his chest even deeper. “You’re the worst.”
But his hand slid up under the hoodie you wore, his hoodie, just to rest against the curve of your bare back.
“I’m serious,” he whispered, brushing his lips over your temple. “I’m keeping this version. I don’t care if it never gets released.”
Silence hung for a second, soft and golden.
Then, Mingi leaned down and murmured against your ear, “Next time, I want you in my lap with the mic between us. I want to feel you fall apart while I stay deep inside.”
You blinked slowly, heat curling low in your belly again despite the haze of exhaustion.
“Jesus, Mingi.”
“What?” He smirked. “Art takes commitment.”
You exhaled a laugh and let him tuck the blanket tighter around you both.
Outside the booth, the city lights glowed faintly through the windows. Inside, the studio felt like its own universe, dim, pulsing, echoing with the memory of your moans looped under Mingi’s unfinished track.
And as the soft, dirty demo played in the background, Mingi kissed the top of your head and whispered, “Don’t worry. I saved all the stems. We can remix it together next time.”
The track looped when the door creaked open.
You didn’t even look up at first, too dazed in Mingi’s lap, your bare thighs tangled under his hoodie. His hand still cupped your hip, possessive and warm.
“Uh.”
The voice hit you like a shockwave. Familiar. Sharp. Hongjoong.
Mingi didn’t flinch. He didn’t cover you. Just grinned lazily, his chin on your shoulder as he looked toward the door.
“Yo.”
You turned your head slowly. Hongjoong stood frozen in the doorway, headphones around his neck, eyes flicking between your flushed face, Mingi’s hand on your thigh, and the faint, breathy moans echoing from the studio monitors.
His voice was dry. “...Should I come back later?”
Mingi just chuckled. “Too late. We just finished recording.”
“Did you,” Hongjoong deadpanned.
Your cheeks burned. You tried to tug the hoodie lower over your thighs, but Mingi's hand stopped you. Kept you in place.
“Mingi,” you whispered, mortified. But he only squeezed your thigh.
“Don’t hide. You sounded gorgeous.” He flicked his gaze to Hongjoong, smug. “Wanna hear the demo?”
“I’m...already hearing it,” Hongjoong said, stepping fully into the room now. His voice was neutral, but his jaw was tight. His gaze dropped to the waveform still rolling on Mingi’s laptop, the audio looped with your moans layered soft in the mix.
Mingi hit play.
Hongjoong stood silent as the sound filled the room. The filthy edge of your breathing. The tremble in your voice when you said Mingi’s name. The wet sounds of Mingi’s mouth on you, caught raw by the mic.
Then Hongjoong spoke, voice low. “This your new production method? Guess I’m behind on trends.”
You buried your face in your hands. “Oh my god.”
Mingi laughed softly, his hand sliding up your bare thigh. “Jealous?”
That made you look up. Hongjoong’s expression shifted, not shocked now. Curious. Something darker simmering behind his eyes as they flicked to you.
“I didn’t say no.”
Silence pulsed. Mingi’s fingers flexed against your skin. You felt the shift in the air before anyone spoke.
Hongjoong set his headphones on the desk. “I’m not touching unless you want me to. But...” He stepped closer, voice dropping. “I want to watch you fall apart. This time, clean vocals.”
Your breath caught, heart pounding in your ears. A swirl of nerves, curiosity, and something thrilling flickered inside you. Could you really let him? Could you bear the weight of both their gazes?
Mingi murmured against your ear. “Baby. Your call.”
Slowly, shakily, you nodded.
Mingi’s hand stroked your thigh once, warm and grounding. Then he shifted beneath you, setting you gently onto the couch before standing. You watched, dazed, as he adjusted the mic arm lower, turning to Hongjoong like this was just another collaborative track session.
But you could see the hunger in Mingi’s eyes. And Hongjoong?
His gaze was locked on you now. Heavy. Unblinking.
“C’mere,” Mingi murmured, guiding you over to the couch. He sat first, pulling you directly into his lap, facing out toward the room. His thighs spread beneath you, his arms wrapping tight around your waist. You felt his cock, hard and heavy against your lower back.
“Let him watch you,” Mingi whispered against your neck. “Let him hear you.”
The mic picked up your breath instantly. Hongjoong stood frozen, watching. Silent. Starving.
Mingi reached down between your spread thighs, cupping your cunt possessively. His fingers dipped between your folds, sliding through your slick, then slowly, deliberately, he spread you open wider using just his thumbs. Letting Hongjoong see everything.
“Fuck,” Hongjoong exhaled.
Mingi chuckled darkly. “Pretty, right?”
You whined, trembling in his hold. But he didn’t let you close your legs. Didn’t let you hide.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, dragging two fingers over your clit, slow and steady.
“Come here, Joong,” Mingi said softly. “Taste her while I hold her open for you.”
Hongjoong moved like he was in a trance. He dropped to his knees between Mingi’s spread legs, directly in front of you, his breath hot against your bare, soaked cunt.
“Don’t make her cum yet,” Mingi warned, voice sharp.
Then Mingi held you wide open while Hongjoong leaned in and licked a slow, thick stripe over your clit. You sobbed instantly. The mic caught it raw.
Mingi’s grip on you tightened. His cock rutted up against your back as Hongjoong worked his mouth over you, wet and filthy. Every flick of his tongue sent tremors through your overstimulated body.
“Good, Joong. Just like that. Tease her. Make her fall apart in my arms,” Mingi rasped.
Hongjoong hummed against your clit. You could feel Mingi's cock twitch behind you. He let one hand slide up to squeeze your breast, pinching your nipple while his other hand held you splayed for Hongjoong’s tongue.
“Say his name, baby,” Mingi ordered.
“H-Hongjoong,” you gasped, back arching helplessly against Mingi’s chest.
“Again. Louder.”
“Hongjoong!”
Both men groaned.
Your whole body shook, overstimulated and pinned down, Mingi controlling every inch of you while Hongjoong’s tongue destroyed you from below.
Just when you thought you couldn’t take more, Mingi leaned down and whispered, “You’re gonna cum now. Right on his mouth. And I’m gonna feel every second of it.”
You screamed as your orgasm ripped through you, loud and broken, the mic capturing every desperate sound. Hongjoong didn’t stop, he lapped at your clit mercilessly, drinking down your release while Mingi held your convulsing body still, praising you through your cries.
When your body sagged limp, Mingi finally pulled Hongjoong back, voice rough. “That’s enough.”
Hongjoong wiped his mouth, panting, eyes blown wide as he looked at you. “Shit… you’re shaking.”
“I’ve got her,” Mingi said softly, sliding his arms around your waist. You could feel how hard he was, pressing up against your back, but his touch was gentle. “Baby. You okay?”
His throat bobbed. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
Mingi leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “She doesn’t want you to stop.”
Hongjoong let out a strained laugh. “No… I didn’t think so.”
Mingi eased you forward, guiding you carefully toward Hongjoong. “C’mon, baby. Let him feel you.”
Hongjoong sat back on the couch, legs spread, watching you with something between awe and hunger. His cock flushed dark and heavy, leaking precum.
“Ride him,” Mingi murmured. “I’ll help you.”
Your thighs trembled as you moved, letting Mingi lower you slowly until you were straddling Hongjoong, facing him. His hands instinctively caught your hips, steadying you.
Hongjoong looked up at you as you sank down onto him inch by inch, his jaw slack, his breathing wrecked. “So fucking tight... you feel unreal.”
Your moan cracked as he filled you. Mingi’s arms came around from behind, one hand holding your waist, the other finding your clit instantly, circling in slow, merciless patterns.
“Fuck, Joong. Feel her?” Mingi rasped against your neck.
“Too well,” Hongjoong groaned, eyes fluttering shut as your walls squeezed him. “She’s choking me.”
“Good girl,” Mingi praised, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Take him. Just like that.”
Hongjoong’s eyes flicked up to yours again, blown and desperate. “Move for me, babe. Please.”
You rocked your hips forward instinctively, grinding down on him as Mingi’s fingers worked your clit, drawing a broken sob from your throat.
“Fuck… that’s it,” Hongjoong gasped. “Ride me. Just like that.”
“Let him use you, baby,” Mingi whispered, teeth grazing your skin. “Still mine.”
You whimpered, your body shaking between them, pleasure building sharp and fast. Hongjoong’s hips began meeting yours, rhythm desperate, sloppy. His hands slid up, cupping your breasts, thumbs flicking your nipples as his cock dragged in and out of you.
“You’re so good to me,” Hongjoong rasped, head falling back. “So fucking good.”
Mingi chuckled low behind you. “Don’t cum yet Joong.”
“Not planning on it,” Hongjoong snapped back, breathless.
Mingi’s fingers pressed harder against your clit. “She will first.”
Your body tightened, the orgasm building too fast to stop, especially with Mingi teasing your swollen clit and Hongjoong stretching you thick and deep beneath.
“Tell him you’re close,” Mingi demanded softly against your ear.
“H-Hongjoong… I—”
“Fuck, yeah. Let go. Cum for me,” Hongjoong begged, his voice raw now.
“Not just for him,” Mingi rasped. “For me.”
You shattered, your whole body locking up as your orgasm tore through you. Your cry ripped out of you, loud, broken, echoing off the studio walls. Both men moaned as you clenched down around Hongjoong, your body trembling violently.
Mingi tightened his grip around your waist, holding you still on Hongjoong’s cock.
“Fill her up,” Mingi ordered. “Now.”
Hongjoong’s broken gasp was the last thing you heard before he came, spilling deep inside you, his body shaking beneath you. He held you tight, voice caught in his throat as he emptied inside you.
Mingi didn’t move. He kept you pinned, kept Hongjoong buried inside you while you convulsed helplessly between them.
“Did I hurt you?” His voice cracked, eyes flicking between yours, still cautious even while wrecked.
“No… I’m okay. Better than okay.”
“Good girl. You took him so well.” His lips were soft against your skin now, his voice pure praise. “I’ve got you.”
Hongjoong’s chest heaved under you. He looked up at you, ruined. “Fucking hell.”
“Breathe,” Mingi murmured with a smirk.
You sagged forward against Hongjoong’s chest, unable to hold yourself up. Mingi slowly, gently pulled you back against him, lifting you carefully off Hongjoong’s cock, both of you panting, wrecked, his cum leaking down your thighs.
Mingi wrapped his arms around you tightly from behind, pressing kisses into your damp hair, your temple, your shoulder, wherever he could reach.
Your body was still trembling, the aftershocks rolling through you in waves. You couldn’t speak, not yet.
Across from you, Hongjoong sat sprawled against the couch, chest rising and falling hard, his face flushed and dazed. He watched you in silence, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Maybe guilt. Maybe hesitation.
Mingi noticed.
“She’s alright,” Mingi said quietly, glancing at him without letting go of you. “Don’t overthink.”
Hongjoong’s throat worked. “I wasn’t sure I should’ve…” He stopped himself, dragging a hand through his sweat-mussed hair. “I didn’t want to push.”
“You didn’t.” Mingi’s voice was simple. Honest.
You turned slightly, weak but lucid now. Your voice cracked. “Joong.”
He blinked.
“Don’t look so wrecked,” you whispered, lips twitching faintly. “I said yes.”
That made him let out a small, rough laugh, relieved. Tired. “Yeah. Yeah, you did.”
Mingi kissed your cheek softly. “And you’re still mine.”
You hummed, leaning against him fully, limp in his arms.
Hongjoong shifted awkwardly, glancing down at himself, then back up. “Want me to… go?”
Mingi looked at him for a long moment. Then shook his head.
“Sit with us.”
Hongjoong hesitated, but he obeyed, moving closer, settling beside you, not touching, but close enough you felt his warmth.
Mingi reached over without thinking, pulling a blanket from beside the couch and draping it gently around your bare skin, then around Hongjoong too.
“Just relax,” Mingi said, his voice dropping soft for both of you now. “She needs to come down.”
Hongjoong’s voice was quieter. “You too.”
Mingi let out a soft chuckle. “Maybe.”
For a few long minutes, no one spoke. The soft loop of your demo played faint in the background, a ghost of the sounds you’d made together.
Mingi kissed your hair again, still holding you as if letting go wasn’t an option. Hongjoong watched you from the other side of the couch, quiet, his breathing finally slowing.
Eventually, Mingi spoke, voice low, possessive but warmer now. “We’ll talk later.”
You weren’t sure if that was meant for Hongjoong or you, maybe both.
But for now, wrapped in Mingi’s arms, Hongjoong silent beside you, you felt safe.
yunho filled it, mingi swallowed it, you drenched them both
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
✮ yunho x f!reader x mingi
✮ warnings: a lil plot (if u squint), nsfw, smutty, multiple rounds, m/f/m threesome, sex toy play, cum play, cum eating, switch between dom/sub dynamics, spit play (lots of it lmao), oral (m!&f!receiving), face sittin, p in v, creampies, cum stuffing, cockwarming, overstimulation, recording, squirting (bless reader's heart), degradation/praise kink, double penetration, hair pulling, light choking, bf!yunho shows slight jealousy, mingi is a whiny baby (his stuttering is intentional), aftercare(??), i may be missing some
✮ if ur new here, hi!!! this is a spin-off from my pocket pussy drabbles. if you want a teensy bit of info on how these two were characterized, i recommend reading their sections. thank you sm for reading <333
side note: yunho (solo) was tied in the polls with this duo, so i gave him the est. relationship w/ reader!!
You were kind, if not gracious—even when it meant sending your boyfriend a mold of your pussy while being out of town.
It started off as a joke one morning while sitting in your hotel room on the phone with Yunho. He had been longing for you, your body. His hand was not doing the job, the pent-up energy almost being too much to handle.
You still had another two weeks until you could see him again, so you figured you’d take matters into your own hands–and quite literally you did.
That same evening, you went to the local sex shop nearby.
You walked into the store, scavenging every aisle for a molding kit. This needed to be special and uniquely you; in the process, you didn’t know if this was for your own gain or his.
The determination on your face as you read each box left the shop workers in awe or potentially concerned. Despite that you made the purchase of a whopping $90 and didn’t even bother to cover up the bag’s name, “Orgasms Galore,” as you entered the elevator to your hotel room.
You're glad your company booked you a single room for your work trip because you knew you were about to be bust wide open in many different ways.
You took a quick shower to trim and shave, trying to make the molding process as seamless as possible. Afterwards, you got the instruction page and spread eagle on the king mattress.
You mixed everything, double-checking every note, a mirror positioned in front of you to make sure you were getting everything just right.
It had to be just right.
Right for him.
It was mid-evening by the time the cast was set, thankful for its speedy process, you find the nearest mail dropbox addressed to Yunho with an expedited request, a small note accompanied with it: “all yours, whether im present or miles away ;)”
A few days later, Yunho receives a box at his doorstep–he wasn’t expecting anything from you, but he wasn’t complaining about what graced his apartment doorstep.
He was fresh out the shower, hair damp and pushed back. He was wearing one of your oversized shirts that still had the smell of your perfume, hanging lazily off his collarbone.
He examines the box, turning it every which way, even shakes it a little–like he was trying to play the guessing game of what it was.
His examination was disrupted by a text message from you.
you: listen to my voice notes, baby
He immediately tracks his way to his bedroom. It’s nighttime, his lamp softly lighting the room, he was about to go to sleep, but your message left too much mystery for him to ignore.
Yunho finally opens the box with careful hands, his ears turning the same color as a strawberry once he realizes what it was.
yunyun: you’re insane
i’ll be busy the rest of the night, gn, love u <3
He takes out the pocket pussy and tosses the box aside while skimming the note you left him. He then scrolls to his hidden voice notes on his phone–he has a favorite folder of your voice: “quick nut.”
Yunho is always hard for you; the text of you saying “baby” is what started it, but seeing the clone of one of his favorite body parts had his cock leaking.
“Fuckkkkk. Can’t believe she did this.” He was in awe of what you created for him, but also flustered in the best way.
Yunho drops his shorts and sits on the edge of the bed, grabs his headphones from his nightstand so he can hear every moan, groan, and squeal from you explicitly.
His cock was hitting his stomach, begging to be touched in some way. He strokes it with his hands a few times and presses play on his phone, your voice emerging into his ears.
“Hi, baby, hope you’ve been good while I’ve been gone.”
He groans, spitting into his hands as a replacement for lube, and slowly inserts himself into the pocket pussy.
He tilts his head back at the feeling, a replica of the actual pussy he loved so much. The audio continues to play as he speeds up his thrust, the leaking of precum and mix of spit making the most lude noises.
“I miss you, my pussy misses you.”
“I’m almost there, Yun, how about you?”
“Finish with me, yeah?”
Yunho begins to feel the buildup of it all, the emotion and the raw need of wanting you in his arms right now.
His hands gripping the sheets as his toes curl at the feeling.
He eventually disregards the audio and starts whispering to himself, caught up in the lust and love of it all.
“I missed you…I just fucking need you.”
He then closes his eyes, trying to imagine you, your scent, the way you clench around him just the way he likes, the way you leave marks along his back and arms.
With one more hard thrust up into the pocket pussy, he fills it up to the brim. It’s filthy and overwhelming altogether.
“Damn it, I’m sorry, babe–I didn’t even ask to fill you up like this.”
Looking at the wall after finishing, still undressed, he feels something wet hit his thigh–figures it's just a mixture of spit and his cum–but he was actually tearing up.
The desire and guilt of wanting you was so much, he was needy and alone. Never a good combo.
He didn’t bother to clean the pocket pussy, but he did slide it into the top drawer of his nightstand while glancing at it one more time, leaving him even more embarrassed by the time he pulled up his shorts and laid down for bed.
He was on the brink of deep sleep until he got a message from Mingi: “comin over tmr mornin, be up.”
And for once, Mingi actually came at the time he stated, without ever waiting for a response from Yunho.
Mingi was bright and early, knocking on the door of Yunho’s apartment with coffee and donuts in hand. Just trying to catch up with a close friend.
Yunho was slow to the door–hadn’t even gotten the chance to brush his teeth yet, the scent of your shirt still lingering on him, his hair disheveled in all kinds of ways.
“Hey bro—”
“Woah, what the hell happened to you? You look terrible.”
“You’ve been crying? Your face is–”
“Good morning to you, Mingi. I’m doing great.”
“Your breath stinks, man.”
“Get in the damn house and take off your shoes.” Yunho motions to Mingi, and he does as he’s told, going into the kitchen to set the breakfast onto the island.
“Since my breath stinks so bad, I’ll be in the bathroom, I’ll be back.”
Mingi nods with a concerned look, not sure what was going on with Yunho.
Looking for clean dishes as his friend leaves the kitchen, Mingi accidentally bumps the coffee he brought on the counter, creating a small mess.
“Shit.”
He begins to look for napkins, but none were on the counter, under the sink, or even in the pantry.
He huffs and whispers to himself, almost defeated over a small spill. “This dude never goes shopping.”
Mingi is so familiar with Yunho’s apartment, he knows he leaves smaller takeout napkins in his drawers, so that becomes his next stop.
But he is astonished when he goes to open the bedroom door as he talks to himself.
“Why does it smell like sex in here?”
“Wait, but she’s not back yet…is he cheating?”
“No, he would never.” Mingi brushes off his thoughts and just continues to the nightstand and reveals the smell that hit him.
The pocket pussy that Yunho didn’t clean in all of its glory in his top drawer, Mingi goes to pick it up with his heart almost pounding out of his chest.
He holds it like a baby, like it’s something special, admiring the attention to detail until Yunho’s voice echoes throughout the room.
“Put. It. Down. Now.”
He puts it down.
Mingi doesn’t know if he should be jealous or intrigued; he’s always had a soft spot for you, but going after his best friend’s girl would just be morally wrong in his eyes.
Mingi hesitantly turns to face Yunho in the doorframe, not looking as disheveled as he did before. A smirk gracing his face.
“Fucking a pussy that’s not yours, huh?”
“It is actually. It’s molded specifically from her.”
Mingi’s smirk falters a bit, realizes the love and care you have for Yunho, not knowing if he’ll ever experience you in that capacity.
But he doesn’t miss the opportunity to inquire about the item sitting in the drawer.
“So this is the accurate replica?”
Yunho’s eyes widen a bit, was mindful of your relationship with Mingi–close friends, nothing more. The lust seemed one-sided, but was it reallyyy?
“Why do ya wanna know?”
“Just… educating myself.”
“Educating yourself on my girl’s vagina? Right…seems logical.”
Mingi just shrugs, taking a quick glance at the pocket pussy again, looks harder–sees the dried white liquid coating the outside lips and involuntarily shivers at the sight.
“Didn’t seem to clean it, must’ve been that good. Must be nice, but I would’ve cleaned this up and the real one— ”
Instead of getting angry, Yunho gets shy.
The mess he left shows his obsession with you, something that was supposed to be kept secret, was now on full display.
In front of his best friend, nonetheless.
“I–I, it was good. She’s that good. I miss her.”
“I miss her too. Been thinking bout’ her non-stop. Her laugh is everything—”
The room goes dead silent at the revelation of how much fondness Mingi holds for you, and the tension in the air gets heavy and thick.
Their eyes locked onto one another, not paying attention to the jingle of keys outside the door.
The padding of shoes on the hardwood.
The spilled coffee dripping and getting sticky on the counter.
And the text you sent Yunho earlier.
you: manager is sick, rest of trip cancelled, will be home soon <3!
You noticed as you stepped through the door that there were donuts on the island, bathroom light was on, and there was coffee for two–thinking that he wanted to surprise you for your arrival back, how wrong you were.
After not seeing Yunho in any of the other rooms, you went down the longer hallway, and you see Yunho’s tall frame standing in the doorway.
One hand on his hip, another hanging on the door frame–his knuckles clenched, almost white. He’s tense; his shoulders not relaxed, and you have no plausible idea why.
Yunho takes up the whole door, so you can’t see who or what is in the bedroom.
You place a hand on the small of his back as you walk up he instantly relaxes under your touch. You smile a bit and take note of your perfume being on him.
Yunho froze for a fraction of a second, his chest tightened as your eyes looked past him, a flush crept across his cheeks, his Adam's apple bobbing.
When he turns to fully face you, you catch a glimpse of the figure inside the room.
Mingi.
But Yunho’s hand twitched at his hip first, shifting on one foot to the other, kind of avoiding your eyes.
“I’m guessing no one read my text, huh?”
Yunho blushes–smiles and engulfs you in a hug and kisses your forehead.
While Mingi stays back a bit but with a small smile, not sure where he stands at this point.
“Text? What text? Why are you back so early?”
“If you would actually read my messages, that wouldn’t be a question.”
Mingi speaks up, “Who cares? We’ve missed you.”
You break away from Yunho to look at Mingi, his long dark hair partly covering his eyes, his expression mixed and a bit unreadable, which is a first for you to see.
“I’ve missed you guys, too. So much. What were you two doing in here anyway?”
That’s when you hear the creaky nightstand being closed as Mingi pushes back against it, everything that equaled suspicious.
“We were just talking, babe.”
“Oh, so you’re lying to me now?”
“How do you know–”
“Neither one of you has made direct eye contact with me since I walked in here. What’s in the drawer?”
“Noth–”
“Fuck, what the hell, it’s the pocket pussy you sent me. Mingi walked in and I-I…we just missed you.”
“So you two were having fun without me?” You said jokingly, a smirk on your face.
But you notice that maybe Mingi didn’t take it that way.
That’s when Mingi’s eyes light up, the tiniest inkling that you just may see him in that way, that maybe you would give him a chance to experience everything Yunho has had.
“You would let me… ‘have fun’…with you?” Mingi’s voice is unsure, his face heating up at the thought.
Mingi was always attractive in your eyes, tall, built, sweet–everything a woman would want. A man who’ve you been close to all this time, but never took it to second base.
Yunho’s hands go to your waist and squeeze, his jaw tight at the question, waiting for your response.
He put your wants and feelings first all the time, and he couldn’t deny the thought aroused him, but also couldn’t deny the possessive wave that rushed through him.
You rub your hands along his, soothing him, a small it’s okay. Can feel all the emotion and tension that’s in the air surrounding the three of you.
You then look up at Yunho, eyes trying to search for the light in his. He gives you a nod, his eyes darting toward Mingi.
“Show me.”
“Show me what you two were doing before I got here.”
Your tone was sharper, no longer in joking around—not that you really were in the first place.
You can hear Yunho gulp beside you, getting fidgety. Mingi eyes the drawer he’s still standing next to and opens it again.
“I wasn’t doing anything, but I can’t say the same for him.” Mingi motions towards Yunho, who has since let go of your waist and makes strides toward the drawer.
“We really were just talking, but since you insist, want to see how I fucked this copy of your cunt last night? Hm?”
You go silent, lips parted but no words forming, the heat rushing to your cheeks.
Yunho watches your expression shift, his chest rising fast, while Mingi’s hands flex like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
Mingi blinks. “You’re serious?”
Yunho swallows, but instead of stopping it, he reaches into the creaky drawer.
His long fingers curl around the toy, lifting it like evidence.
“Last night… I couldn’t stop,” he admits. He glances at Mingi, then back to you.
“I thought about you. About you choking me while I fucked it. I filled it up until it leaked all over my hand.”
You bite your lip, the confession making your thighs clench. Yunho never talks like this unless he’s too far gone, and Mingi looks like his knees are about to give out.
“Well then, once again, show me how bad you really missed me.”
Yunho places the toy back on the nightstand and looks at you helplessly, like he still can’t believe you’d ask him to reenact it.
Mingi, though, is burning. His chest is heaving, his gaze darting between you and Yunho like he’s asking for permission.
“Mingi,” finally looking directly at him. His breath stutters.
“Yeah?”
“You wanted to know if it was accurate, right?” you say, fully stepping into the room.
You press yourself against Yunho’s side, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist.
“Why don’t you find out?”
The words hang there, almost dangerous. Yunho stiffens, then groans quietly into your hair. He’s too far gone to deny you, too turned on to stop it.
Mingi’s lips part, eyes glassy, and for the first time, he looks at Yunho.
“If I touch her, you won’t hate me?”
Yunho clenches his jaw, dragging his gaze down your body. His thumb rubs your hip bone in nervous circles.
“If she wants it.” He looks at you, desperate for your answer. “…then I don’t get to hate you.”
That’s all Mingi needed to hear.
He steps forward, trembling with restraint, and the way he looks at you, like you’re something divine, makes your pulse race.
You reach out and tug his wrist, placing his big palm low on your waist, right next to where Yunho is already gripping. Their hands nearly touch. Both men stare at each other, then at you.
“Fuck,” Yunho whispers, burying his face in your neck.
Mingi’s thumb brushes your skin like he’s not worthy.
“Show me how much you’ve both missed me. Right fucking now.”
Yunho groans, the sound raw in his throat. Mingi swears under his breath, lips parted like he’s seconds away from begging.
“Take off your shirt,” you tell Mingi. His chest shudders. He peels it off fast, and it makes your pussy throb when you realize he’s wearing one of yours underneath, another oversized tee you left at his place months ago.
“You kept that?” you ask.
Mingi nods, cheeks red. “Smells like you.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens, but his cock twitches through his sweats. You feel it press your hip as he mumbles,
“I fuckin’ get it.”
You grab the toy from the nightstand and hold it up between them.
“Show me how you fucked this, Yunho.”
He freezes, ears pink, but his eyes are filled with need.
Slowly, he takes it from your hand, sits on the edge of the bed, and pushes his sweats down. His cock springs free, flushed and leaking
“God, baby, look at me,” he whispers, lining himself up. And then he pushes into the toy with a whimper. His head falls back, and the filthy wet sounds fill the room as he thrusts.
You crawl onto the bed, straddling his thigh. Your eyes flick up to Mingi. “Film him.”
“What?”
“Use my phone. I want more voice notes, wanna hear him moaning for me when I’m gone.”
Mingi scrambles for the phone, fumbling with the camera, hands shaking so bad it makes the footage blur. But then he steadies it, filming Yunho’s flushed face, the slick movement of the toy swallowing him down.
“Say something, baby,” you purr, running your nails down Yunho’s chest.
He whines, so red his ears burn. “I’m filling you up, fuck—I need you so bad.”
The moment cracks something in Mingi.
You turn to him. “Take your pants off. Sit on the other side of me.”
He obeys instantly, cock springing up, precum leaking down his shaft.
You spit into your palm, the sound loud in the room, and Mingi’s eyes go wide when you use it to slick him up. You stroke him slow, your thumb smearing precum over his slit.
“Spit in my mouth,” you order.
Mingi gasps but doesn’t hesitate. He leans down, drool pooling on his tongue before he lets it drip right onto yours. You moan into it, the sound making Yunho’s thrusts stutter.
“Damnnnnit,” Yunho groans, pounding harder into the toy now.
You break the kiss with Mingi and spit right onto the head of his cock, stroking him harder, watching his thighs shake.
“Want to cum already?” you tease.
“I—I’m trying, fuck, I can’t,” Mingi’s voice cracks, his head dropping onto your shoulder. He looks ruined just from your hand.
“Hold it,” you snap.
Yunho suddenly pulls the toy off, stroking his slick cock in his fist. He looks at Mingi with dark, blown-out eyes.
“Eat it.”
Mingi freezes. “Excuse me?”
“Eat what’s inside.” Yunho’s voice is shaky, but firm. He tips the toy up, and cum drips from the molded lips.
Mingi’s eyes roll when you tilt his chin and push the toy to his mouth.
“Open.”
He parts his lips, shaky, and you tip Yunho’s cum into his mouth. He moans as it hits his tongue, tears springing to his eyes, and he swallows hard. “Fuck—”
Yunho looks like he’s going to cum again just from watching.
You then unstraddle Yunho and push Mingi down on the bed, straddle his face, and tug Yunho’s wrist so he’s hovering behind you.
“You get to compare the real thing now,” you taunt, grinding down onto Mingi’s mouth.
“Find out which is your favorite.”
Mingi’s tongue is everywhere—messy, desperate, like he’s been waiting years. You gasp when he spits on your pussy, then sucks your clit like he’s starved.
Yunho groans behind you, his hands gripping your waist as he watches.
“Fuck, she’s squirting.” Yunho chokes when Mingi shoves two fingers inside you, and you gush all over his face. Mingi moans into your cunt like he’s drowning, swallowing everything.
“Good boy,” you pant, tugging his hair. “Don’t waste a drop.”
Yunho can’t take it anymore. He lines up behind you, pushes in slow, and you both moan at once.
“You’re so warm, babe,” Yunho gasps, already gripping your hips like he’ll lose it.
“Fill her up while I taste it,” Mingi begs from under you, voice muffled against your pussy.
Yunho pounds into you, loud and sloppy, groaning your name. You cum hard again, squirting all over Mingi’s face and chest as Yunho empties inside you with a cry.
When Yunho pulls out, you slide off Mingi’s mouth and down onto his cock. He’s already shaking, tears streaking his face, and when he sinks inside you, he sobs.
“You feel so good, I’m seriously so close.”
“Cum inside.”
He wails and does, thick, hot, endless, his hips jerking, tears spilling down his cheeks as he fills you.
Yunho leans over, panting, and smears the mess leaking out of you onto his fingers before pushing it into Mingi’s mouth.
“Taste,” he orders.
Mingi moans around Yunho’s fingers, swallowing everything like it’s his life calling.
The three of you are still tangled, bodies sweaty and twitching. Mingi is still inside you, cock softening but refusing to leave, clinging like he can’t bear to let go.
Yunho lies behind you, peppering desperate kisses down your neck, his fingers lazily stroking the mess leaking out of you.
Your phone is still recording the whole thing on the nightstand, red dot blinking. A new “voice note,” only this time it’s both of them.
“You’re dripping,” Yunho murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Cum’s just spilling out of you, baby. So messy.”
Mingi whimpers at his words, hips jerking shallowly inside you.
“Don’t… don’t let it fall out. Please.”
You laugh softly, tilting your head back against Yunho’s shoulder.
“Look at him, Yun, my pussy’s squeezing him, and you’re pressed up right behind me, all hard. Cock pressed to my ass, needy. You’re warming each other up perfectly, baby.”
“Not fair,” Yunho mutters, pouting. His palm presses into your stomach. “I wanna keep her warm, too.”
Mingi lifts his head, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, voice shaky. “We can share, right?”
Yunho’s eyes darken, but when you squeeze his thigh, he gives you a tiny nod. His voice comes out low.
“Fine. But I’m not just letting her go.”
You grin, stroking both their arms. “Good boys. Then let’s play again.”
You roll your hips deliberately, and Mingi shouts, his cock twitching inside you like he’s never been used before.
“Sensitive?” you tease.
“I can’t, I can’t—” He’s trembling, already halfway to tears again.
Yunho smirks into your neck. “Pathetic. You cum once and you’re already begging off?”
Mingi’s head shakes violently. “N-no, I can keep going, I’ll take it, fuck, I’ll take it all.”
You reach for Yunho’s drawer again and pull out a sleek vibrator you’d left there prior, pressing it into Mingi’s unsteady hand.
“Put this on my clit while you’re inside me. Don’t stop, no matter how much I beg.”
Mingi stares at you like you’ve sentenced him to death, but flicks it on anyway.
The low buzz makes your whole body jolt, and Yunho’s laugh is breathless against you.
“Oh, she’s gonna squirt again,” he whispers, eyes fixed between your thighs.
“I can feel her clenching already.”
“Don’t stop,” you moan, grabbing Mingi’s wrist to pin the vibrator harder against you. “Do it until I soak both of you.”
“Good god, god, god—” Mingi’s babbling now, chest heaving, cock jerking inside you with every squeeze of your walls.
Yunho growls in your ear. “You hear that? She’s gonna make a mess all over you. My girl’s cunt is using you, Mingi.”
That sends you over, your body convulses, gushing so hard it sprays Yunho’s torso and Mingi’s stomach as you stay sandwiched between them.
Mingi leans up a bit and screams into your shoulder, rutting helplessly.
“Holy fuck, she’s flooding me,” he sobs.
Yunho’s hand shoots out, gripping Mingi’s throat. Not choking, but firm enough to make him freeze.
“Don’t you dare cum until she tells you to.”
Mingi whines, nodding frantically, precum spilling down his shaft even as he holds back.
You tilt your head, panting, smirking through your aftershocks.
“Good job. Now I need both of you to spit in my mouth, kay?”
Yunho groans, leaning over your shoulder, letting a thick string of spit fall onto your tongue.
Mingi follows clumsily, drool dripping down his chin as he misses the first time, then hits your tongue.
You swallow, moaning loud. “Fuck. My boys taste so good.”
Yunho’s eyes roll back, his cock twitching again. “Say it again.”
“My boys.” You drag your nails down both their arms. “Mine.”
Yunho grabs your phone off the nightstand again and shoves it at Mingi.
“Now it’s her turn. Do it.”
Mingi hits record, slowly becoming your personal cameraman throughout this.
He pointed it at your soaked pussy stretched around his cock, vibrator still buzzing against you.
“Tell her what you want,” Yunho demands, voice rough.
Mingi’s voice cracks. “I want my seed in her, please. I wanna cum inside until she can’t hold anymore, I’ll eat it if it spills, I swear.”
“Fuck—do it,” you moan, arching back into Yunho. “Fill me up again.”
Mingi’s cry is wrecked, body jittery as he finally lets go. He spills inside you hard, sobbing, tears streaking down his flushed cheeks.
Yunho immediately slides his fingers down, scooping the overflow and shoving it into Mingi’s mouth again.
“Swallow your mess,” Yunho snarls.
Mingi whimpers around Yunho’s fingers.
But Yunho isn’t done. He shoves two of his cum-slicked fingers inside you, pumping them fast.
“Gotta give me one more squirt, baby. One more for the camera.”
You scream, body jerking as you gush again, soaking both of them, the sheets, the phone lens.
The video ends with Yunho’s voice—rough and possessive.
“That’s mine. All fucking mine.”
Yunho doesn’t give you a second to breathe once he’s had his fill of watching Mingi whine while in your pussy.
He’s dragging you onto all fours, hand gripping the back of your neck like a leash.
“Up, baby. Knees apart. Show him who fucks you for real.”
Mingi’s already flushed, cock leaking against his stomach, but Yunho just jerks his chin at him.
“Get in front of her. You wanna be useful? Stuff her throat while I stuff her cunt.”
The second Mingi shuffles forward, cock hovering by your lips, Yunho sinks into you from behind, one brutal thrust that makes your arms buckle.
You cry out around Mingi’s cock when he slides into your mouth, Yunho’s hips smacking your ass in a punishing force.
They don’t let you rest. Mingi’s hands are trembling as he holds your face, his cock nudging deep enough you choke. Yunho watches the way your throat bulges, groaning.
“Look at that,” Yunho hisses, yanking your hair a bit so you arch.
“You’re nothing but holes for us, sweetheart. Pussy gushing all over me, throat gagging around him. She was made for this.”
Mingi almost folds. “She—she’s soooo tight, I can feel her throat.”
Yunho slaps your ass, hard. “Shut up and use it. Don’t waste my girl’s mouth.”
Your drool’s everywhere, soaking Mingi’s cock, dripping down your chin.
Yunho spits into the mess, smearing it over your cheek with his thumb before shoving it back into your mouth alongside Mingi’s length. Your eyes roll, gagging as your throat takes them both.
Yunho’s pace gets nastier. Deep, hard pumps that shove you into Mingi’s cock until you’re choking every stroke. The wet slap, gag, and squelching fill the room.
“Gonna make you squirt again, all over my dick while your mouth’s full of his cock,”
“Let’s see if you can come like that.”
You shudder, thighs shaking as your cunt gushes down his cock. Yunho groans, pulling out halfway just to watch the spray hit his abs before slamming back in.
Mingi’s already breaking, “Shit, she’s drooling all over me, she’s so good. Yunho, I'm so close.”
“Not until she swallows. You hear me? You don’t come on her face, you come down her throat,” Yunho demands.
Mingi whines hips stuttering as his cock pulses against your tongue. The hot flood of him hits your throat, and Yunho makes sure you choke it all down, holding you in place.
“Swallow. Every drop. Good fucking girl.”
But Yunho’s still going, his hips snap faster, thrusts that drag your squirt-slick walls raw until he groans, spilling deep inside you.
Then he pulls out just enough to push his cum out of your pussy with his fingers, letting it drip down your thighs while Mingi stares wide-eyed.
Yunho smirks, still holding you by the hair.
“Look close, Mingi. That’s what she looks like when she’s fucked right.”
You’re wrecked, throat raw, and cunt dripping cum, when Yunho finally pulls you back into his chest.
He lays down, tugging you with him until you’re spooned against his body, cock still hard and nudging at your swollen folds.
“Hush hush. Don’t cry, baby,” he coos, kissing the salt off your temple.
“I’ll take care of you. Just one more.”
Mingi’s still kneeling there, face a mess, cock twitching even though he’s already come. Yunho smirks at him and pats your thigh.
Then he slides in from behind, slow this time, grinding in inch by inch until you’re full and whining.
His arm wraps tight around your waist, pulling you flush to him. Each thrust is deep and dragging, making your overstimulated cunt flutter helplessly around him.
Mingi crawls closer without even thinking, pressing against your front. His lips find yours in sloppy, desperate kisses, his whines muffled as Yunho rocks you both with every thrust.
You’re caught in between them, Yunho fucking you slow from behind, Mingi clutching you like he’ll break if he lets go.
“So good like this,” Yunho murmurs into your ear, voice a deep rumble. “Full of me, kissing him, dripping everywhere. Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect.”
Your body gives up control, you gush again, just becoming a wet mess with both of them.
Soaking his cock as he grinds the orgasm out of you. Mingi gasps against your lips, needy noises spilling when he feels you wet his chest.
Yunho's hips finally still as he spills inside you again, heat pooling deep in your belly. He holds you there through it, not pulling out, whispering filth-soft praises in your ear.
“That’s it. Take it all. My girl. Always mine first.”
Mingi just clings, kissing your face over and over like he’s worshipping what’s left of you.
All three of you are a sweaty, sticky mess, tangled together across the bed. Your hair plastered to your face, your pussy and both their cocks glistening with cum, spit, and sweat.
Yunho presses a soft, kiss to your shoulder, hand cupping your hip, thumb tracing lazy, reassuring circles. His chest rises and falls beneath yours, steadying you, grounding you.
Mingi leans in from the other side, brushing damp hair from your face, pressing a trembling kiss to your neck. His hands linger along your thighs, gentle but hungry, careful not to hurt you but refusing to let go.
You gasp, shivering, toes curling over the sheets. “Both of you. Still here,” you whisper.
Yunho murmurs against your ear, low and rough, “Mine, all mine.”
Mingi speaks softly, “Yours, every inch.”
Your fingers weave into their hair, holding them close. You feel their need, their devotion, their awe at how much they ruined you tonight.
Despite the chaos, the mess, and the overwhelming sensations, you feel completely adored.
The room is silent except for your heavy breathing and the occasional whimper or soft moan as your body twitches in the aftermath.
You tilt your head back, letting both of them steal a soft, lingering kiss. It’s fleeting, but it’s theirs, an unspoken agreement that no matter how messy you are, they’re right there with you.
𐚁warnings!: smut, a lil plot, spit play, bondage/rope, choking, power dynamics, size kink, cum play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking, spanking, biting, cowboy!mingi, im prob forgetting some
𐚁fun fact, i rodeo irl. im here to burst the bubble that cowboys are gentlemen. majority are assholes that have community d :) but we love cowboy mingi so it's acceptable in this circumstance!! this isnt rlly proofread, this was for funsies. (fyi the term "roughie" means someone who competes in rough stock events! in this case mingi is a bull rider)
𐚁𓄀✮⋆˙ 𐚁𓄀✮⋆˙
You knew better, you knew riding in shorts would rub you raw.
Yet you did it anyway because it’s warm out, who would put on jeans when it’s 90 out? Horses gotta get warmed up too.
Mingi told you while you were saddling up, you waved him off. Listening to roughies never got you anywhere but in the back seat of a truck.
You weren’t going to let a very tall, muscular, good-looking bullrider sway you…right?
You didn’t need the distraction, not before a run, so you continued to lope circles in the warm-up pen.
There’s no shade of trees, barely a breeze, the dust is all in your lungs, and it’s like you can feel the heat radiating from the bleachers.
Your horse’s ride is smooth, and you match it, but the constant rubbing of your thighs from the rough out saddle is making it more agonizing.
Other contestants are scattered throughout the grounds, eating, talking; it’s the most relaxed time before it’s time to run at night.
All but one bullrider, whom you’ve sworn not to touch with a ten-foot pole. Mingi has a tank on, shades covering his eyes, a trucker cap, and jeans. His long limbs just hanging on the fence, watching you.
Each time you get to his side of the fence, you glance his way. He smirks that stupid smirk, you get goosebumps even though you’re sweating bullets.
Your horse’s body heat isn’t helping, so you decided to give both of you a break. It feels like scraping your knee on concrete as you slide off the other side of your saddle, you wince to yourself at the sensation.
You waddle to the fence to tie your horse and loosen up the girth for her.
“I told you.” Mingi walks over, pats your horse’s head, his voice is filled with glee.
“Shut up, I’m fine, just slight saddle burn.” You roll your eyes as you secure the rope knot, you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand.
“Slight?”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
“Smart mouth.” He clicks his tongue, climbs over the fence, and goes to help remove the splint boots from your horse.
“I got it, Mingi.” He pays you no mind and continues to unwrap. You get up from crouching, and that’s when your thighs touch.
“Fuck—shit.”
He goes around to your side, takes his shades off, he’s towering over you as he holds the left splint boot in his hand.
“No, darlin’, you’re chafed really bad—not just ‘slight’.”
You snatch the boot out his hand, “Stop looking between my legs.”
“It’s obvious from a mile away that you’re hurting, and one more ride in that saddle is gonna have you bleeding.”
“Now you’re being dramatic.”
“You’re standing like you had 15 beers.” Your jaw tightens, and you try to straighten up. He’s so close that the brim of his cap shadows your face.
“No I’m not.” But even the small shift makes you inhale sharply, he catches it, his eyes are drilling into you.
He smiles at you again, you shove at his chest. You hate proving anybody right, “Don’t you gotta buckle bunny hanging around somewhere?”
His tongue presses into his cheek, “See—I would,” he leans down a little closer, feeling his body heat against your own, “but they don’t ride in soccer shorts like you.”
Your stomach gets that empty feeling, and you hate that you’re falling for old patterns again. He reaches down before you can step back.
He hooks his finger under your shorts at your outer thigh; he doesn’t lift, just keeps his fingers there.
“Mm.” He observes, and you swat his hand away. “Don’t.”
“C’mon, lemme see.”
“No.”
He tilts his head, “So you’re just gonna be in pain through your run tonight, just to prove something?”
You don’t say anything, because that was the plan all along, you were just going to suffer the consequences of your actions for the day.
Then he straightens up, “My truck–now.”
“Absolutely not.” You cross your arms, lean on the shoulder of your horse, you don’t dare cross your legs over.
“Relaxxxx, it’s not like that—unless you want it like that.”
You glare, and his grin only gets wider, then he softens up a bit. “I got aloe.”
Now you know he’s getting serious, he’s actually offering you a practical solution, not just the thing between his legs.
He knows your run is important, he knows that’s the real threat for you. He turns and starts walking towards the field with the parked truck and trailers.
You don’t follow at first, but you wait about five seconds before you attempt a step across the gravel.
Pain immediately shoots up your thighs, you huff out, trying to keep it down because you swear he’s smiling even though he doesn’t turn around.
He keeps walking as gravel shifts under your boots, it’s uneven footing, so every brush of skin makes you clench your jaw.
His long legs make big strides, but you can tell he slowed down a bit, he definitely wasn’t trying to make it obvious.
By the time you reach his truck, he’s already dropped the tailgate. No trailer hooked to it, as roughies only need to bring themselves and their gear, no animals to worry about until their performance.
They have it easy outside of the 8 seconds of them risking their life.
He leans against it, arms crossed, shades hanging on his tank. “Took you long enough.” You stop a few feet away.
“Whatever, you planning on actually helping or just enjoying the show?”
He looks you up and down slowly. You look all over the place, to be honest. A tank top on with dust sticking to your body, sweat on your face, hair pulled back under a cap, with boots on.
You never look your absolute best during the day of the show anyway. Except Mingi isn’t looking at your face or your chest, he’s looking at your legs.
“That depends,” he says lazily. “You gonna keep pretending you don’t need help?” He pushes off the tailgate, taps on it.
“Hop up.”
“I can stand.”
“I really didn’t ask.”
You hesitate until he raises a brow, then you grab the edge and pull yourself up, the metal is hot through your shorts. His truck is not covered and has been sitting in the beaming sun.
Your legs part just a little, limiting the friction against them. He goes around to the front of his truck and grabs a bottle that has green gel inside.
The aloe, you could jump for joy. He steps between your knees as your legs hang and your back stiffens.
“We’re in public– dude, you see how many trailers parked next to you?”
“Would you prefer this in the truck? Windows are tinted–plus nobody is looking at your legs but me.”
Your pulse jumps, it shouldn’t, because this is just a favor, but it seems your body doesn’t care what your brain thinks.
“Yeah, truck please.” You slide off the tailgate and go to the open passenger door. He follows and stands in front of you, his body plus the door covering you completely from any other eyes.
It just looks like Mingi digging into his truck at this angle. He flips the cap open with his thumb, squeezes some into his hand. “Last chance to tell me to stop.”
You swallow, your pride is screaming, but your thighs are on fucking fire.
“...Just make it quick.” His mouth curves up.
“Oh—you know I don’t do anything quick.”
The first touch is cold, the aloe hits your skin, and you suck in a breath. It feels like pouring peroxide on an open wound.
His hand is rough, calloused from the bull ropes and working with his hands all the time. He spreads it slowly along the inside of your thigh.
He doesn’t go high or inappropriately, just where the roughed-up skin is. He doesn’t rush, he rubs it in like he does baby powder before his rides.
“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs.
“Well, no shit.”
“You should’ve listened.” His thumb drags a little slower, and you can feel the shift in breathing. He looks up at you from under his hat.
“Still just ‘slight?’” His thumb presses a little harder as he works the aloe in some more, the stinging sensation still subtle.
Your knees go loose, opening up a little more, and his eyes don’t leave yours. “You can tell me to stop.”
You swallow, you’re sweating even more now, and your hand finds the front of his tank. You don’t push him, you bunch it up in your hands, holding him there.
“Mingi,” you warn, but it comes out more breathy, not serious in the slightest.
“Didn’t think so.” He says, stepping where his hips brush the edge of the passenger seat, your thighs hitting his.
You know the aloe is just becoming an excuse at this point, you both have played these games before.
“You’re such an ass.” Your grip tightens, pulling him closer.
His voice drops lower. “Then tell me to fuck off.” His hand rubs your inner thigh again, getting close to where you’ve been secretly aching and wet.
He leans in, his other hand bracing against the middle console behind you. You don’t say anything, don’t tell him no.
He hooks one finger under the edge of your shorts, tugs on them. “These are in the way.”
“Then do something about it.” Your pulse has quickened, know you shouldn’t be getting involved with him.
His eyes flash, he grabs the shorts at the inseam, and they rip. Your shorts hang open, exposing your panties, already damp.
“Shit, Mingi.”
“You told me to do something.” He yanks them away, hangs them on the rearview mirror. You’re left in your underwear, tank top, boots, and spurs.
His hand cups you through your underwear and you bite back a moan. “You’re so damn wet, bet there’s evidence of a snail trail in your saddle, huh?”
“Don’t get cocky, honey.”
He pulls your panties to the side, fingers sliding through your folds, and you choke. “Mhm. Keep talking for me.”
You can’t form words. His fingers work you open, you’re still covered from the other trucks and people in the parking lot, as two fingers push inside and his thumb finds your clit.
Your head falls back against the console, and he leans by your ear, tongue swipes it and you shudder.
“All that mouth and you can’t say shit now.”
“Maybe if you were better at this–”
He pulls his fingers out, and you whimper slightly. He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him, and his fingers wet with you press against your lips.
“Open for me.” You glare as you do. He slides his fingers into your mouth, and you taste yourself with the tart lingering taste of aloe. His eyes are dark as he watches.
You hollow your cheeks as you suck, and his breath hitches. He then pulls his fingers out, a string of spit connecting as he puts his fingers in his mouth. Moaning around his own fingers, holding direct eye contact with you.
He then leans over into the bed of his truck and comes back in front of you, holding his bull rope. The one he uses for his rides, worn leather and frayed orange cord. Your eyes go wide.
“Turn around.”
“I’m not a fucking bull, you’re gonna have to make me.”
His hand grabs the hair peeking out of your cap and spins you, bending you over the console. Your boots scrape against the truck frame, spurs jingling.
“You keep acting like a bull, get treated like one, baby.” He loops the rope around your wrists, pulling them behind your back and tying them tight.
He tears your underwear next, throwing them in the backseat to be added to his collection. You can hear his buckle and zipper, and then you feel the head of his cock pressing against you.
You think about onlookers and slowly stop giving a fuck, you’re covered. If they want to see Mingi's cheeks, they’ll get a show.
He’s fucking big, you feel every vein, every muscle as he pushes in slowly. “Jesus–shit, shit.”
“Too much? Thought you could handle it like you do your horses.” His voice is strained while still mocking you.
“Fuck everything about you.” You grit out, but get broken by a moan as he bottoms out in you. You’re so full, the air is getting scarce.
He doesn’t give you time to adjust, he just pulls back and slams in. His balls slapping against you as you cry out. It hits the chafed skin from the saddle, and it hurts, but feels so damn good you can’t think straight.
“Take it.”
He fucks you hard as your cheek rubs against the console, slobber smearing along the leather. The truck rocks with every thrust.
Sweat drips, the rope burns your wrists, and you pull against it, which makes him go harder. He leans over you, one hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you up slightly so your back arches.
Your spurs catch on him and he hisses. “Careful with those,” he goes deeper, hitting your cervix, which makes you go delirious.
“Oh my god.”
“Uh uh, wrong name.”
You can’t form coherent thoughts, so you push back against him, meeting his thrusts, and he groans.
He pulls out, and you whine. He unties the rope and flips you over, pulling you back to the edge of the seat. Your legs wrap around his waist, spurs digging into his ass, and he grins.
He pushes back in and you both moan. The angle is deeper, you can see him now. His hat is half on, tank top clinging to his body with sweat, happy trail visible, jaw clenched.
He looks damn good.
He spits into his hand and brings it between you, rubbing your clit in tight circles while he pounds into you. It’s so much, you’re coming before you can stop it, your whole body squeezes around him tight.
“Fuck,” he thrusts three more times, and then he’s spilling inside you with a groan. He collapses forward, head hanging on your shoulder, both of you gasping.
He pulls out slowly, and you feel his cum drip down your thighs, they burn even more now. The aloe has gone to waste.
He swipes his fingers through it and brings it to your mouth again. “Clean this all up, you’ve already fucked up my seats.”
You maintain eye contact as you do, and his cock twitches against your thigh. “You’re such a dick.”
He grins lazily, satisfied. “You’re the one who was on this dick in a parking lot with your spurs still on.”
You can’t even argue with that, but then your breathing steadies, and when you look at him, there’s a look in your eyes that makes him falter.
“Looks like it’s my turn, huh.”
He blinks, “What–”
“Get in the truck.” He stares at you a moment, cock still hard, then he laughs. “You serious?”
“Does it look like I’m fucking joking?” You move over to sit on top of the console to give him room, it takes all your strength to move because of how shaky you are.
The seat is soaked in spit, cum, everything that’s dripped out of you. It’s absolutely filthy. “But that’s your seat.”
“And now it’s yours, sit.” His cocky smirk returns, and he gets all the way in. The truck dips, and he takes up the entire passenger seat, even in his big ass truck.
His thighs spread wide, and when he settles into the seat, you hear the wet sound of him sitting in your juices and the leather.
“Jesus christ I’m gonna need a detail.”
“You should be honored.” You climb over him and squeeze in where you can, the heat seeping through with no ac.
His hands go to your hips, the fit is tight. His shoulders are so broad you have to brace your hands on the roof of the truck to balance, your knees press against the seat on either side of him.
No one can hear or see into his truck, tinted so dark you don’t know how he drives it on the regular.
You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his cock. He begins to harden even more, and you stroke him slowly.
You sink down on him in one stroke, and his words cut off into a choked groan. The stretch is delicious. You never took off your boots, dirt in his seat, spurs digging into the side of his thighs as you settle.
“What’s wrong Mingi?” You roll your hips and watch his eyes roll back. “Thought you’d be able to last 8 seconds?
“Fuck–”
You brace your hands on his shoulders, you set a fast pace. Your thighs burn, but you lift yourself almost completely off him before slamming back down. Cum drips down your thighs, down his cock, adding more to the mess he’s sitting in.
His hands go to your hips, trying to slow you down, but you slap them away. “Didn’t say you could touch.” You lean forward and wrap your hand around his throat.
His cock twitches inside you, and you laugh breathlessly. “Oh? You like?” You squeeze your thighs tighter, changing the angle.
“I’m gonna die before my ride. Shit–”
“You’ll make it, just maybe not last the full time–” You sit up as much as you can, your head nearly brushes the roof. Your hips roll and snap, your spurs jingle with every movement, scraping his skin that’ll leave marks.
Sweat drips between your breasts, and you can feel his chest slick under your hands. The windows start to fog, but you don’t slow down.
“Look at you—big tough roughie who can’t take what he dishes out. Pathetic.”
“I like it when your mouth is occupied.” He sticks his fingers into your mouth and shoves them down your throat, your hips stutter a bit.
“Good girl, all nice and quiet.” His other hand comes up to grab your tits, squeezing hard, he pinches, causing you to moan and clench around him. It only makes you go harder.
You spit his fingers back out, some of it hits his face, he uses his tongue to lick it off around his lips. The scene alone makes you want to buckle at the knees.
“You’re fucking insane.”
His hand slides down to your ass, and he spanks you, the sting matching the sensation of your inner thighs. Then he does it again.
“Fuck—yess–” He spanks you harder, and you grind down harder, taking him deep. Your clit rubs against his unshaven stubble with every movement. You’re getting close again.
“Shit, I’m bout’ to nut.” His voice is wrecked, and you can feel him throbbing inside you.
You tap his cheek playfully, “Not yet.”
“Please–”
“Please what?” You roll your hips, start spelling your nickname with your hips, and he chokes. “Use your words, honey.”
“Please let me come—fucking please.” You lean down, lips brushing his ear. “Fill me up again, wanna feel it.”
He comes with a groan, hands on your hips, and the feeling of him pulsing inside you. You come shortly after, thighs clamping around him.
Even as you come, you keep moving, slower. “Wait–I can’t.”
“Yes, you can, take it.” You sit up, wringing every last bit out of him. His head falls back against the seat, throat exposed, and you lean down to bite it.
Your muscles are screaming, you chase another orgasm as you grind down on him. His hands roam your thighs, ass, tits as you come down.
He’s about to say something smart until the sound of a mic squeals. You both freeze. A voice echoes from the arena, running sound check for the speakers before the night.
The loading of bulls and horses into the chutes, it makes you realize how the world didn’t really stop, and you’re still parked between trailers.
Still supposed to compete.
Your thighs burn when you shift off him, the aloe is smeared everywhere. He runs a hand over his face, hat crooked, jaw tight.
You adjust your tank top like nothing happened, grab what’s left over of your shorts off the rearview.
“Better ride better than how you handled this.”
He laughs, you lean down as your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Wouldn’t want you lasting less than eight seconds under those lights.”
You pull back before he can respond, open the door, and slide on your ripped shorts. Heat floods in, and real life hits you.
He watches your boots hit the gravel, your thighs are still red, still raw, and it’s all his fault.
݁𖥔 warnings: this is pure smut, plot?? we don't know her. big!d hwa, dom/sub dynamics, cockwarming, degradation kink (he loves u i swear), praise kink, facefuckin, tit fuckin, spit play, cum play, breeding kink, squirting, multiple orgasms (rip), spanking, hair pulling, light choking, humiliation, slight dumbification (?), super possessive, rough sex, oral (m!receiving), legos are reader's enemy, there's like no breaks in this, i could be missing some :)))
݁𖥔 yeah, so, um...hwa has been on my mind since the concert and then THAT live inspired this LMAO. enjoy the filth💀
The dining room table had become Seonghwa's kingdom, and you were about to declare war on it.
He sat hunched over the wooden surface, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, silver chain catching the light streaming through the windows.
His black tank top stretched across his shoulders as he leaned forward, absorbed in the lego architecture set before him. Tiny plastic bricks organized in neat piles, instruction manual spread open.
You'd been watching him for the past hour from the kitchen doorway, growing irritated by how captivated he was by those damn toys.
The way his brow furrowed in concentration, how he'd pause to push his glasses up his nose before diving back in, the clicking sounds of plastic snapping together.
It was crazy how something so trivial could hold his attention when you were standing right there.
"Hwa." Your voice cut through.
He didn't even glance up. "Mmm."
You stepped closer, bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. "How long have you been at this?"
"Few hours." His response was distracted, eyes still fixed on the instruction manual as he searched for the next piece.
The dismissal stung. You moved to the edge of the table, leaning your hip against it so the surface shifted, a few bricks scattered.
His hands froze. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours, and there was a warning there. "Don't."
The single word was sharp.You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers tightened around the piece he'd been holding.
"Don't what?" trailing your finger along the table's edge, purposely brushing against more bricks. "I'm just looking."
"You're being a brat." He set the piece down, "Do you have any idea how long it takes to line these pieces up? How much work I've put into this?"
"It's just plastic, Seonghwa."
His glasses slipped down his nose as he finally turned to face you fully. "Just plastic?"
You could see you'd struck a nerve, and something in you wanted to push harder. Without breaking eye contact, you swept your arm across a section of the table, sending more sorted bricks scattering across the floor.
The sound of plastic hitting hardwood filled the silence between you.
Seonghwa's expression went completely blank for a moment. He stood slowly, the chair scraping against the floor.
"You want attention that badly?"
Before you could respond, his hands were on your waist, lifting you onto the table. Bricks pressed into your thighs through your shorts as he positioned you right in the middle of his workspace.
"Then you'll have it."
His mouth crashed against yours. You could taste the tea he'd been drinking, could feel the chain around his neck pressing cold against your chest as he kissed you with intensity.
When he pulled back, you were breathless, lips already swollen.
"But we're doing this my way."
His hands found the waistband of your shorts, yanking them down along with your panties in one motion.
"Seonghwa, what are you—"
"Getting comfortable." He settled back into his chair, pulling you forward until you were straddling his lap.
You could feel him already hard beneath his sweatpants, the thick outline of his cock pressing against you.
His hands gripped your hips as he lifted you, just enough to free his cock from his pants. The sight of him, thick and already leaking made your mouth water and your pussy clench with anticipation.
"Damn, already dripping." His thumb brushed through your folds, collecting the wetness there. "All worked up from being ignored."
You tried to sink down onto him, desperate for the stretch and fullness you craved, but his grip on your hips held you in place.
"Patience." The word was low against your ear. "You barged in and interrupted my work—now you’re gonna sit here and wait while I keep you stuffed."
He positioned his cock at your entrance, the thick head barely hitting you, and then stopped. The stretch was already intense, Seonghwa was big, bigger than anyone you'd been with before, and your body always needed time to adjust to his size.
"Please." The word slipped out before you could stop it.
"Please what?"
"Can you please fuck me already, shit."
His laugh was dark, vibrating against your throat where he'd pressed his lips. "Oh, I will. But first, you're going let me finish what you so rudely interrupted."
Without warning, he pulled you down onto his cock in one brutal thrust, burying himself completely inside you. The sudden fullness knocked the air from your lungs, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth.
"Fuck." The curse tore from your throat as you tried to adjust to the sensation of being so full.
"That's it. Take all of me." His voice was strained, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "You feel that? All the way up in there—”
You could only whimper, your body trembling. He was so deep you could swear you felt him in your stomach.
"Now." His hands moved to the table, reaching around you for the instruction manual. "You're going to sit there, stuffed full of my cock, and not move until I'm done."
The casual way he said it, like you were nothing more than a convenient cock warmer, sent arousal through you. Your walls clenched around him involuntarily, drawing a hiss from his lips.
"I said don't move."
One hand left the manual to wrap around your throat, not squeezing but holding you in place. The weight of his palm against your pulse was a constant reminder of his control.
"But Hwa."
"No." His thumb pressed harder, just enough pressure to make your breath catch. "You wanted my focus. This is what you get. And if you're very good, maybe I'll fuck you right."
The clicking of lego pieces resumed, along with your shaky breathing and the wet sounds of your pussy adjusting around his cock.
Every small movement he made, reaching for a piece, consulting the manual, shifting in his chair, made you want to pull your hair out from the roots.
Minutes passed. Your thighs began to shake from the strain of staying still, your walls fluttering around him as arousal built to an almost unbearable level. The position had you completely open to him, unable to create any friction or relief.
"Look at you." His voice was sooo casual, like he wasn't buried balls-deep inside you. "So desperate. I can feel how wet you're getting, dripping all over my cock."
You tried to rock your hips, seeking any kind of movement, but his free hand clamped down on your hip.
"What did I say about moving, once again?"
"I–I need it though."
"You need to learn patience." His fingers found your clit, circling it with light touches that made you gasp. "This is what happens when you act like a spoiled brat. You get treated like one."
Your hands fisted in his tank top, trying to ground yourself as pleasure built slowly..
"Please, Seonghwa. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I messed up your stupid lego set."
"Stupid?" The word was quiet.
His hand left your clit, and before you could process what was happening, he was standing, lifting you with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he turned and bent you over the table, his cock never leaving your pussy.
Lego bricks clattered to the floor as he swept them aside. The instruction manual crumpled under your chest as he pressed you down, the glossy paper sticking to your sweat dampened skin.
"You think my work is stupid?" His hips snapped forward, driving his cock deeper than you thought possible. "Let me show you what stupid looks like baby."
The first thrust knocked the breath from your lungs. The second had you crying out, fingers scrambling on the table surface. He set a brutal pace, each stroke hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur.
The table shook with each impact, more pieces falling to the floor. Some of the bricks remained pressed into your skin, not painful enough to truly hurt.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?"
"Couldn't stand being ignored, so you had to ruin my stuff."
His chain swung forward with each thrust, the metal links dragging across your back and shoulders.
"Answer me."
When you didn't respond immediately, too lost, his hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back.
"I said answer me."
"Yes." The word came out as a broken sob. "Yes, I wanted your attention."
"And now you have it." He released your hair, both hands gripping your hips as he managed to fuck you even harder. "Being bent over and used like a toy."
There was something about the way he said it, like you were his toy, his to use however he wanted.
"Fuck, you're tight." His rhythm faltered for a moment. "No matter how many times I fuck this pussy, you never get used to my size."
It was true. Even now, after months together, the stretch was still intense, still required your body to adjust. He was just too big, too thick.
"Never." You managed between thrusts. "Too big."
"That's right."
"No one else could fill you like this. No one else could stretch this cunt the way I do."
His hand pressed against your lower belly, and you could feel him there, the thick outline of his cock moving inside you, creating a bulge with each thrust.
"So so deep I'm rearranging your guts." You could feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as it moved inside you.
"Mine." The word was harsh against your ear as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back.
"Yours." The word was barely a whisper, but he heard it.
"Louder."
"Yours!" You cried out as he hit that spot inside you.
"That's my good girl."
Your orgasm was building, that tension coiling in your belly. Your walls began to flutter around him again, drawing a curse from him.
"Already close? We're just getting started."
He started pulling out, already moving.
He flipped you over, and you were on your back on the table. He began to position himself between your thighs. He was moving higher, his cock dripping with your combined arousal as he straddled your chest.
"First, I think you need to be reminded of your place." His hands cupped your breasts, squeezing them together around his cock. "Look at these perfect tits. Made just for me to fuck, aren't they?"
The weight of his cock between your breasts was intoxicating, precum smearing across your chest as he began to thrust. His chain swung with each movement, occasionally brushing against your nipples and making you gasp.
"Answer me, slut."
"Yes," you breathed. "They're yours to fuck."
"Yes, ma’am." His pace increased, cock sliding between your breasts as his hands kept them pressed tight around him. "Shit–every part of you just fits me. That mouth, tits, pussy. Just built for me, baby."
He thrust harder, the tip of his cock hitting your chin with each stroke. Precum began to make everything slippery.
"Open your mouth," and when you complied, he adjusted his angle so the tip of his cock caught your lips with each thrust. "Suck."
You wrapped your lips around the head when it reached your mouth, tongue swirling around it. The taste of yourself mixed with him was mind-boggling, making you moan around him.
"Fuck, just like that." His hands tightened on your breasts, using them to stroke himself faster. "Such a little cock holder, yeah."
But just as you were getting used to the pace, he was pulling away entirely, moving down your body.
"But I think I need to focus on this ass of mine." His hands gripped your hips, flipping you over again so you were on your hands and knees on the table. Legos pressed into your palms and knees as he positioned himself behind you.
"Look at this ass." His hands roamed over your cheeks, squeezing and kneading. "The way it bounces when I fuck you."
His palm came down in a slap that made you cry out, the sting soothed by his gentle caressing.
"This ass is mine," he said, punctuating each word with another slap. "Say it."
"My ass is yours," you gasped, pushing back against his hands.
"Can’t hear you, baby."
You cried out as he delivered another slap. "All of this is yours, Hwa," He soothed the reddened skin before yanking you backward.
Before you could adjust, he was dragging you off the table, your knees hitting the floor hard.
"Now you're going to show me just how sorry you are for interrupting my work," he said, his hand fisting in your hair as he stood before you, cock hard and glistening. "C’mon open up for me again."
You parted your lips. His hips snapped forward, burying his cock deep in your throat in one thrust. You gagged around him, tears springing to your eyes as he held you there.
"Gag on it." His voice was strained as he pulled back only to thrust forward again.
He set a harsh rhythm, using your mouth like a plaything. Saliva dripped down your chin, mixing with the tears streaming down your face as he fucked your throat without any mercy.
He panted, his free hand reaching down to wipe the tears from your cheeks. "Such a pretty slut, crying on my cock."
When you gagged hard, he pulled out once more, his cock slapping against your face as you gasped for air.
"Can't handle it?" he taunted. "And here I thought you wanted all of me."
He started pushing his cock back past your lips, but this time he moved lower, pressing his balls against your mouth.
"Hold ‘em. Keep them warm in your mouth like a sweetheart."
You opened wider, taking both of his balls into your mouth, licking around them as he groaned above you.
"You love having your mouth stuffed full of me, don't you?"
You could only hum in response around his balls, the vibration making him curse under his breath.
But then he was pulling away again, his cock bobbing in front of your face as he looked down at you with dark eyes.
He put pressure on your lips with his thumb so you’d open up, and when you did, he leaned forward and spat directly onto your tongue. "Swallow."
He dragged his spit-slicked cock across your face, marking you with his precum. "Now you're going to take my cock down your throat again like the whore you are."
This time, when he pushed back into your mouth, it was with renewed vigor. He used your face to its fullest extent, fucking your throat with no care as you choked and gasped around him. Your makeup was ruined, mascara streaming down your cheeks as he used you.
"This is what you get for being such a needy brat."
Just when you thought you might pass out from lack of air, he pulled out, leaving you drooling on the floor..
"Back on the table," hauling you up by your arms. "I'm still not finished."
He positioned you on your back again, but this time he settled between your thighs with intent. His cock slammed back into your pussy without warning, the fullness after the emptiness making you scream.
"Now I'm going to fuck you until your legs forget how to work," he promised. "Until you're nothing but a dripping, sloppy mess."
True to his word, he fucked you dumb. The combination of the rough treatment and his earlier teasing had you racing toward orgasm fast.
“Mmm, baby, you’re so close huh?" He could feel the way your walls were squeezing him. “Come on my cock. Show me how much you love being used."
The orgasm tore through you, your back arching off the table as you screamed his name. But he didn't slow down, didn't give you time to recover.
"Shit shit shit, too much Hwa," you sobbed, hands pushing weakly at his chest as the overstimulation bordered on painful.
"You can take it," he insisted, his thumb finding your clit. "You're going to give me another one—I know you can."
His pace and the pressure on your clit was building toward something different, something more intense.
"Let go for me. Make a mess all over me."
When the orgasm hit, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. You felt something give way inside you as liquid gushed from your pussy, soaking his cock and the table beneath you.
"Fuck yes," he groaned, his pace becoming even messier as you squirted around him.
You were barely coherent as he continued to fuck you through the aftershocks.
"Think you can give me another? Huh, baby, how’s that sound?"
You didn't think you could, but your body responded anyway. The orgasm was smaller but no less intense, your pussy clamping down around him.
This time, he couldn't hold back. His rhythm faltered as he chased his own release.
But at the last second, his hand started working his cock frantically as he pulled out, aimed at your chest and face.
He signaled to your mouth. You barely managed to comply before he was coming, thick ropes of cum painting your face, your tits, your throat.
"Don't move," he ordered when the last spurts finished. "Don't you dare waste a drop."
His fingers gathered the cum from your cheeks and lips, pushing them into your mouth. "Suck them clean."
You wrapped your lips around his fingers, tongue cleaning them thoroughly as he watched with satisfaction.
"Good girl. Now show me you swallowed it all."
You opened your mouth to prove you'd swallowed every drop he'd given you.
"Perfect." He was already hardening again as he looked down at you.
Without warning, he was sliding back inside your pussy. But this time he wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling you close as he began a slower, deeper rhythm.
"This time I'm going to fill this pussy for real," he promised.
"You want that, don't you?" He pressed his hand against your lower belly, "Wanna be so full of my cum that it's dripping out for days?"
"Yes, please," you gasped.
His pace increased as he chased his second release.
When he came this time, it was deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with spurt after spurt of hot cum. You could feel it mixing, could feel how it began to leak out around his softening cock even as he stayed buried inside you.
Finally pulling out to watch his cum drip from your well-used pussy onto the ruined lego instructions below.
You tried to sit up, but your muscles felt like jelly. Your entire body was covered in a mix of sweat, saliva, and his cum, and you'd never felt more thoroughly used in your life.
"The lego set," you said weakly, looking at the destruction around you. Pieces were everywhere, some of them now sticky with your combined fluids.
"Don't worry about it," he said, but there was a glint in his eyes. "Actually, on second thought..."
He was pulling you off the table and down to your hands and knees on the floor among the pieces.
"Clean them up," settling back in his chair with his arms crossed. "All of them. And don't you dare wipe away my cum while you do it."
The humiliation of crawling around naked, his cum dripping down your thighs as you gathered the pieces one by one, should have been degrading. But with you, it was definitely the complete opposite.
He praised as you moved on hands and knees, ass swaying as you reached for the bricks.
Some of the pieces were sticky with your combined fluids, but you collected them anyway, placing them in neat piles as he watched. The entire time, you could feel his cum leaking from your pussy, leaving a trail on the floor that you'd have to clean later.
"Great job baby," he said when you'd finally gathered all the pieces. "Now c’mere."
You crawled over to him, looking up from your position on the floor. He reached down to cup your face gently, thumb brushing over your cum-stained cheeks.
"You look so beautiful like this," he said softly.
The contrast between his gentle words and the filthy state he'd left you in was dizzying. But this was Seonghwa, capable of being both dominant and caring, rough and tender.
"I should shower," you said weakly.
"Later." He was already pulling you up into his lap, seemingly unbothered by the mess covering your body. "Right now I want to hold you."
You melted into his embrace, letting him support your weight as your body continued to recover. His hands stroked your back.
"I'm sorry," you murmured against his chest. "About interrupting your work. About making such a mess."
"No, you're not." There was amusement in his voice. "You got exactly what you wanted."
He was right, of course. You'd wanted his attention, wanted to break through that focused concentration. Mission more than accomplished.
"Maybe not," you admitted.
"That's what I thought." His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. "My needy baby."
You shifted in his lap, becoming aware again of the mess covering both of you, the sticky evidence of everything that had just happened. "I really should shower now."
"Should you?" His grip tightened. "Or should you sit here a little longer, feeling exactly what you've done to me?"
The smugness in his voice made you want to roll your eyes, but the way his cum was still slowly dripping down your thighs made it hard to argue. You'd gotten what you wanted, all of his focus, all of his control, all of him.
"What happens next time I interrupt your work?" you asked, settling more comfortably against his chest.
"Next time?" He laughed. "Next time... I'm locking the door."
You stayed like that until the mess became too uncomfortable to ignore. As you headed toward the shower, you glanced back at the mess; the table would need serious cleaning.
"You're rebuilding that, aren't you?" you called over your shoulder.
tinted windows don't hide the sound of you getting split open
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 yeosang x f!reader x seonghwa
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢warnings!: smut, pure filth, m/f/m threesome, established relationship w/ yeo, alcohol consumption/drunk sex, semi-public sex, squirting, overstimulation, rough sex, oral (m!f! receiving), cum play, spit play, spanking, attempted DP, degradation & praise, rip reader's cervix, marking/biting, toe sucking (brief), creampies, light aftercare, could be more
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 quick intermission on syncink, purely self-indulgent nonsense, hands down the messiest & most unorganized thing i've written lmao if you make it to the end you deserve a medal or therapy idk
You weren’t planning to be almost nerfed by a taxi stepping out the club.
The taxi came out of nowhere, one second you were stumbling off the curb, the next Yeosang was yanking you back against his chest, your heel catching on the concrete as the cab's horn blared past.
"You’ve gotta be kidding me," he breathed into your hair, his heart hammering against your shoulder blades. His hand splayed across your stomach, fingers pressing into your dress.
"You trying to give me a heart attack, baby?"
The bass from the club still thrummed in your ear, mixing with the adrenaline and the eight patron shots you should’ve said no to, quite literally on the verge of pissing yourself.
You turned in his arms, and the movement made the high slit of your dress fall open, exposing your thigh.
"Sorry-yy," you said, not sorry at all. Your hands found his chest, god his chest is fucking divine, sliding up to loop around his neck. "But I need to get you home. Like, now."
Yeosang's eyes dropped to where your dress opened. His blonde hair was still messy from your fingers earlier on the dance floor, and his face was flushed from alcohol, from the heat, from you.
"Yeah? That urgent?"
"You know I wanna jump your bones like 24/7." You pressed closer, feeling the way your nipples hardened, knowing he could feel it too through his shirt. "Been thinking bout’ it all night."
His hand slid lower, fingers grazing the bare skin of your thigh through the slit. "Babe, you're gonna kill me before we even get there." But he was smiling, those perfect white teeth.
"Let me call us a ride before you do something that gets us arrested for public indecency."
"That's taking too long," you whined, your hand dropping to palm him through his pants. He was already half-hard. "Can't we just—"
"In one piece," he said firmly, catching your wrist even as his hips pressed forward into your touch. "I need you in one piece. And conscious. And preferably not in the back of a cop car."
You pouted, admitting defeat, letting him pull your hand away. It was chilly out, handing off his jacket because he just knew the complaining was about to begin.
“Yeo, I’m shaking like a stripper. Where is the damn car?”
He clicked his teeth; he hates it when you get upset, and it’s cold without his jacket on. He pulled his phone from his back pocket to check the current drivers.
“Fuck, no cabs are local right now.”
“Why didn’t we take the company car again?”
He rolls his eyes, mimics you, “‘Let’s be like normal civilians going to the club, no cameras, no chauffeur.’”
“I DO NOT sound like that.” You trip again as you try to whip around and give him a look. He steadies you once more, body pressed against the front of him.
At this point, he’s not even hiding how he was groping you
He checked the app one more time for the cabs with no luck, to put you both out of misery.
“This is so damn impossible right now.”
“Need a ride?”
You nearly break an ankle when you jump out of Yeosang’s arms to turn and see Seonghwa.
He was club hopping with the group you were with, but you thought he had already dispersed somewhere else. He had his hair tied back, a black dress suit, just the image of composure.
The opposite of what you and Yeosang were.
Seonghwa takes in the scene of you bent over a bit, trying to fix the strap on your heel. Yeosang is crouched down, trying to block onlookers' views; he’s failing.
Seonghwa lingers on the bare skin your slit reveals, can tell you’re also slightly inebriated. It’s all amusing to him.
“Or you two gonna continue giving the street a show?”
Yeosang finally turns around to properly acknowledge Seonghwa. “Hwa?” He’s not surprised to see him, just forgot, as usual.
Yeosang gives him a blank stare, nothing behind those pretty eyes.
“Yeosang.” Seonghwa’s voice was always smooth to you, like, get this man on a podcast right away, at least he wouldn’t say dumb shit.
“Hey, lightweight. Having trouble?”
You take the praise back.
“One. fuck you. Two. I ammm nottt a lightweight! You know this.” The slight slur of your words is not helping your case.
You straighten up a bit, a bit flustered as you notice how high your dress rose up from bending over. You’re horrible at playing it cool when in reality you're just drunk and so damn horny.
“I have my car, driver’s around the corner.”
Yeosang side eyes you, “See, someone came prepared.”
“Beats waiting for a cab that’s not gonna show.” Seonghwa is addressing both of you, but you take note of how his eyes drift to you every now and again.
Yeosang double-checks with you one more time, you give him a hesitant nod, knowing that you were all over him on the street. You know you’re just gonna combust in the car with anticipation.
Yeosang wraps his hands around your waist from behind, head resting on your shoulder.His breath heating your ear and along your neck.
He whispers, it sends more chills. “Gonna behave in this car, kay?”
Seonghwa agrees to drop both of you off for the sake of your dignity. He waves down the car as it turns the corner.
“The partition works,” Seonghwa adds, too casually. “In case ya know–want some privacy.”
The words just sit there between you as you all exchange looks, because the dude has gotta be joking, right?
Rightttt?
You clench your thighs, Yeosang’s arms tighten around you, his breathing getting heavier.
Seonghwa has a knowing look; he’s smirking. A menacing look..
“Unless you’d rather I keep it down?”
Yeosang clears his throat, “We’ll take the damn ride.”
The sedan parks next to the curb, the tinted windows, the ones so dark to protect whoever is riding in them.
In this case, it’s Park Seonghwa and Kang Yeosang, perfection.
You reach for the back door at the same time as Seonghwa, hands touching. He helps you slide into the backseat while Yeosang gets in from the other side.
The seats are leather, seatwarmers are on, low lighting, and the car smells brand new. It's just the complete contrast to the state of mind you’re in.
Your dress slides up, you accidentally flash your thigh to Seonghwa in the process. “Be careful.” You catch him looking, and he doesn’t give two fucks that you did.
Yeosang slides his hand over your lap, yanking your dress down, making direct eye contact as he looks up at Seonghwa, who’s still hanging on the door next to you.
You can tell Yeosang is barely holding it together. He whispers in your ear again, “shit, just behave.”
Seonghwa hops in the front passenger seat, adjusts the rearview, even though he’s not driving, his chauffeur is.
Makes eye contact with both of you in the backseat. “Comfy?”
He motions to the driver, “Both of 'em, Yeo’s place.” Seonghwa pressed the button, and the privacy partition began to rise, tinted glass sliding up between the front and back seats until it sealed with a soft click.
Yeosang's hand was still on your thigh, fingers digging in hard.
You turned to look at him. His eyes were fucked, pupils blown, that look he gets when he's past the point of pretending to have self-control.
"C'mere," he said, and yanked you into his lap before you could even respond.
You barely got your knees on either side of him before his mouth was on yours. His hands went straight to your ass, pulling you down against him, and yeah, he was hard as hell. You could feel every inch of him through his pants.
You ground down, and he made this noise in his throat, half-groan, hands already shoving your dress up.
"Shit," he muttered, breaking the kiss to look at you. His hair was messy from your hands, lips swollen.
"Can't believe you wore this dress."
"You like it?" You rolled your hips again just to watch his eyes flutter.
His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing hard, then he shifted you until you were straddling just one of his thighs.
"Ride it," he said. "C'mon, show me pretty baby."
He pressed his thigh up and the friction hit just right. You gasped, hands bracing on his shoulders as you started moving, grinding down.
Dry humping, a lost art.
"Wait—fuck," Yeosang said, eyes going wide. "Are you not—"
"Nope." You didn't stop moving, grinding down harder.
"You're shitting me." His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you down so hard you gasped. "You've been walking around all night with no—"
"Told you I was ready."
"Fuck." He looked wrecked already, staring at where you were riding his thigh, and you could feel how wet you were getting, soaking straight through his pants.
He groaned, one hand sliding up to grip your jaw.
"Open for me," he leaned in and spit directly into your mouth.
You swallowed, eyes locked on his, and his grip got tighter.
"Just so hot," he muttered, and then his hand was between your legs, fingers on your clit, rubbing in tight circles that made your thighs shake. "C'mon, baby. Wanna feel you come on my thigh."
The combination of his thigh and his fingers was so much. You were already wound so tight from the club, from teasing him all night, and it only took a few more grinds before you were coming.
Yeosang didn't let up, kept you grinding through it, his fingers still working your clit until you were shaking and had to swat his hand away.
"Fuck," you breathed, slumping against his chest.
"One down," he said.
You caught your breath for maybe five seconds before your hands were at his belt, fumbling with the buckle.
"Need you," you said, fingers clumsy from the alcohol and the orgasm still buzzing through you. "Yeo, please—"
"So needy," he said, but he was already lifting his hips, helping you shove his pants down just enough to get his cock out.
It was already leaking, and you wanted to put your mouth on it, started to lean down, but he caught you by the hair.
"Later," he said. "Get up here."
He pulled you back onto his lap, lined himself up, and you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You were so wet he slid in easy, both of you groaning.
You both just breathed for a second, adjusting, and then you couldn't wait anymore. Started moving, bouncing on him, hands braced on his shoulders because the car was cramped as hell.
"Shit—just like that," Yeosang groaned. "Fuck, you're so sooo tight."
Your dress was bunched up around your waist, tits bouncing every time you moved, and you caught him staring, couldn't decide where to look. Your face, your chest, where he was disappearing inside you.
He leaned forward, buried his face between your tits, mouth hot and wet on your skin. Then pulled back and spit right on your chest.
You moaned, and he rubbed it in with both hands, before yanking you down into a kiss. Messy, all tongue, and you could hear the wet slap of skin every time you came down on him.
"Get off—" he said, pulling you up. "Spit on it."
You leaned down, let spit drip from your mouth onto his cock, and he groaned, used his hand to spread it before pulling you back down.
The car was definitely rocking on moving wheels. You were being loud, but you couldn't stop.
Yeosang started fucking up into you, hard, taking over completely. You just held on, head thrown back, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Yeo," you gasped, "Yeo, wait, I—"
"Come on," he said, voice wrecked. "Fucking give it to me."
The pressure kept building, almost uncomfortable, and you tried to say something but his hand on your throat and the way he was hitting your cervix was delicious.
The gush of liquid, your whole body locking up as you came so hard. You were making sounds you'd never made before, and distantly you remembered wetness everywhere, soaking his lap, dripping onto the leather seats.
"Holy fuck," Yeosang choked out, and he kept going, kept fucking you through it. "Baby, fuck, you're—shit—"
You couldn't stop shaking. It felt like it went on forever, your body just giving and giving until you were just fully spent.
When you finally came down, you realized how much of a mess you'd made. His pants were drenched. The seats were wet. Your thighs were sticky.
"Oh my god," you said, voice hoarse. "Did I just—"
"Mhm." Yeosang sounded dazed. He was still inside you, still hard. "You just—fuck, that was—"
The car wasn't moving, you both froze.
The engine was off. You'd stopped. Which meant you'd arrived, which meant…
"Shit," you breathed, looking around at the fogged windows, the soaked seats, the absolute disaster you'd made of Seonghwa's car.
Yeosang's hands were still on your hips, gentler now. "That was new."
"I know, I—I didn't know I could—"
Seonghwa twisted in the passenger seat, partition down, driver standing outside, and the look on his face made your stomach flip.
Not mad. Hungry.
His eyes dragged over everything, you still on Yeosang's lap, dress bunched up, thighs spread, the wet mess everywhere. The fogged windows. The smell of sex.
"Busy back there?" His voice was low, and the tent in his pants was obvious.
Yeosang's hands tightened on your hips, again. You were still stuffed full of him, could feel him twitching inside you.
"Sorry about your car." Your brain was fuzzy, body still buzzing.
Seonghwa's eyes met yours. "Are you?"
Hell no, not in the slightest.
You shifted on Yeosang's lap, making him groan. "You just gonna sit there, or you gonna help?"
Yeosang's breath hitched. His jaw clenched, something jealous in his eyes, but you could feel how hard he still was inside you.
"She's lovely," Yeosang said, hands sliding up your sides.
Seonghwa climbed into the back, and suddenly the space was way too small for three people.
"Let's see if you can keep up," you said, and Seonghwa's smile was sharp.
His hand landed on your thigh, and the touch was different from Yeosang's. You grabbed his wrist and moved it higher, right where you wanted it.
"Don't be shy now."
Seonghwa's fingers slid through the mess between your legs, and you gasped. Oversensitive, but you wanted more.
He brought his fingers to his mouth, tasted them. "Sweet." His eyes locked on yours. "Yeosang's been holding out on me."
"Fuck off," Yeosang muttered.
Seonghwa leaned in and kissed you. His tongue was in your mouth, tasting like you, and when you broke apart to catch your breath, Yeosang was right there.
He pulled you into a kiss, reminding you exactly who you were with at the start.
When that kiss ended, you turned back to Seonghwa, testing. His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip. "You always let him share his toys?"
"I'm not a toy," you said.
"No?" Seonghwa's smile was dangerous. "Then show me what you want."
Yeosang's hand fisted in your hair, yanking you back hard enough to make you gasp. There was something raw in his expression you'd never seen before.
"My girl," he said.
Your pussy clenched at the tone. "Then fuck me like it."
For a second he just stared at you, jaw working, and then his grip in your hair tightened until it hurt. "You want me to show him who you belong to?"
His other hand wrapped around your throat, "Want me to fuck you sooo good he knows nobody else gets you like this?"
"Yes," you breathed.
"Say it."
"Show him."
Something snapped. He pulled out of you and you whimpered at the loss, already missing the fullness. His hand left your throat to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at Seonghwa. "Watch. Watch what I do to her."
Then to Seonghwa, "Lie down."
Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, amused. "Giving orders now?"
"You want in or not?"
"Oh, I'm in." Seonghwa stretched out across the backseat, that long black hair fanning out. "Come here, lightweight. Let's see if you taste as good as you look."
You straddled his face, and his hands gripped your ass hard. The first swipe of his tongue made you gasp, licking up everything. Your cum, your wetness, Yeosang's precum. When he sucked on your clit, your thighs clamped around his head.
"Grind on me," he said against your pussy. "Don't be polite."
Yeosang was watching with his cock in his hand. "Get over here," you told him.
You took him in your mouth, tasting yourself, and his hand tangled in your hair, Seonghwa's tongue was relentless and you couldn't focus, couldn't do anything but take it from both ends.
"Nobody eats this pussy like I do." Yeosang's voice had that jealous edge you rarely heard. His hand in your hair, pulling you off his cock. "That's enough."
He yanked you off Seonghwa's face completely, Seonghwa made a noise of protest, his chin wet with you.
"The fuck, Yeosang—"
"She's mine." Yeosang's voice was sharp, final. He pulled you back against his chest, one hand splayed across your stomach, the other sliding between your legs. "You're here because I'm letting you be here. Don't forget that."
Seonghwa's eyes went dark. "Noted."
"Say it," Yeosang demanded, fingers circling your clit, making you whimper. "Tell him whose cock you choke on every night, who you're with."
"You," you gasped. "Yours, Yeo, I'm yours—"
"Good girl." He bent you over the center console, your ass in the air, face pressed against leather. "Now I'm gonna prove it."
Yeosang slammed back into you. The angle was brutal. He wasn't holding back anymore."Who fucks you this good?" he demanded.
"You—fuck, Yeo—"
Seonghwa reached for your foot and sucked your toes into his mouth. The unexpected sensation made you clench around Yeosang and he groaned, fucking you harder.
The car rocked on its suspension, definitely obvious to anyone outside, but you were way past caring.
Your tits were hanging down, bouncing with every thrust, and Seonghwa grabbed them roughly, spit dripping from his mouth onto your chest.
He rubbed it in with both hands before leaning down and biting, hard enough to make you yelp, his teeth leaving marks on the skin.
"Fuck," you gasped, and Yeosang spanked your ass in response.
"She likes that," Yeosang said, voice rough. "Do it again."
Seonghwa bit the other one, then sucked a bruise into the curve of your breast, his tongue soothing over the sting.
But you couldn't focus. There was too much happening. Yeosang's cock hitting your cervix, Seonghwa's mouth on your tits now, biting and sucking.
That pressure was building again. "Yeo, I'm gonna—"
"Do it," he gritted out. "Fucking do it."
You squirted again, gushing around his cock, and Yeosang pulled out just in time for it to spray everywhere.
Some of it hit Seonghwa square in the chest. He looked down at himself, then back up at you with a feral smile. "Fuck. Do that again."
Yeosang dropped to his knees in the cramped space, mouth on you before you could even process it, drinking you down like he was dying of thirst.
"Oh my god—" You couldn't stop shaking, his tongue still working you, licking and sucking.
He sat back, face soaked, looking feral. "Hwa's turn."
"Sit," you told Seonghwa, already moving.
You freed his cock, thick and pretty, and he caught your wrist before you could sink down.
"Slowly," he said, eyes locked on yours. "Wanna watch you take every inch."
You lowered yourself in one slow motion that had you both groaning.
"There she is," Seonghwa said, hands gripping your hips. "Now show me what all that noise was about."
The stretch was different, the angle hitting new spots, and you rode him hard. Used him. Yeosang's hands found your tits from behind, pinching your nipples until you gasped.
"Harder."
He slapped them instead, sharp stings that made you clench. Seonghwa groaned, guiding your hips, and Yeosang bit down on your shoulder hard enough to bruise.
Then your neck. Your ear. Marking you up while you fucked his friend.
"Open," Seonghwa said, and spit in your mouth. You swallowed, then grabbed his face and kissed him. Turned and kissed Yeosang, passing it to him.
"Dirty girl," Yeosang murmured.
You were close, grinding your clit against Seonghwa with every roll. Yeosang's hand slid down and slapped your pussy, right on your clit.
You nearly screamed. "Again—"
He did it. Once, twice, three times, until you were coming, clenching around Seonghwa's cock so hard he cursed.
"Gonna cum," Seonghwa groaned.
"Inside." You felt the hot pulse of him coming inside you. You kept moving, milking him, until he was gasping and oversensitive.
When you climbed off, cum dripped down your thighs. Yeosang spread your legs, watching it leak out, then shoved two fingers inside you.
"Look at this mess." He pushed Seonghwa's cum back in, fucking you with his fingers before pulling them out and pressing them to your lips. You sucked them clean, tasting everything.
He didn't give you time to recover. Just lined himself up and slid in, groaning at how wet and used you were. Cum squelching with every thrust.
"Fuck, you're so full," he said, and you were. Could feel both of them inside you, the stretch almost too much when he bottomed out and hit your cervix.
"Too deep?"
"Don't you dare stop."
He fucked you harder, deeper, until tears were streaming down your face and you couldn't tell if it was too much or not enough. Seonghwa leaned in, wiped your tears with his thumb, then circled your clit with the wetness.
That did it. You came sobbing, clenching around Yeosang as he groaned and added his load to the mess. You could feel it, so much cum leaking out around his cock, dripping onto the seats.
"Wait," you gasped through the haze. "Both of you."
They both looked at you.
"Both of you. At the same time."
"Baby, I don't think—" Yeosang started.
"Try."
"Fuck, okay."
It took maneuvering, you on your back, legs spread wide, Yeosang still buried inside you. Seonghwa lined up next to him and the first push made you gasp. The stretch hurt like hell but you wanted it anyway.
He got halfway before you had to tap out. "Wait—fuck, too much—"
He pulled back immediately, but those few seconds of being that full had you shaking.
"Holy shit," you breathed. "Almost."
"You're fucking insane," Yeosang said, grinning.
When he thrust again, your pussy made this wet sound, all the air and cum getting pushed around.
"Oh my bejeezus," you said, mortified for half a second.
"Don't," Seonghwa said. "That's hot as fuck."
Yeosang groaned. "Do it again."
He fucked you harder and the sound got worse, louder, your body making noises you couldn't control. But they were both so into it.
They started passing you between them after that. Seonghwa pulled you onto his cock while Yeosang moved to your mouth.
You took him deep, gagging yourself on purpose, trying to see how far you could go. Spit dripped down your chin as you choked on him.
"Fuck, look at her," Seonghwa said, watching you struggle. "She's trying so hard."
You pulled off, gasping. "I can take more."
"Yeah?" Yeosang's hand fisted in your hair.
You forced yourself down until your nose hit his pelvis, throat convulsing around him. Held it until you couldn't breathe, then pulled off coughing.
"Good girl," he said, and the praise made you clench around Seonghwa.
Then they switched. Yeosang pounding into your pussy while Seonghwa fed you his cock. You took him just as deep, determined, and he cursed when you swallowed around him.
"Gonna cum," Seonghwa warned, pulling out of your mouth.
You opened wide, and he came on your tongue, warm and bitter. Before you could swallow, Yeosang stilled inside you and grabbed your face, kissing you hard, taking half of it into his mouth.
You passed it back and forth between kisses, messy and gross and so damn hot, until you both finally swallowed.
Time blurred. More orgasms, more cum. Yeosang filled you up again, a third time, and you were leaking everywhere.
Your cervix ached. Your tits were covered in bite marks. Your ass stung from being spanked. You were utterly destroyed.
"I can't," you finally sobbed, pushing weakly at whoever was touching you. "I'm done, I can't—"
"Okay, baby, okay." Yeosang pulled you against his chest. "You're done. You did so good."
Seonghwa grabbed your dress and wiped between your legs, cleaning up the mess still leaking out of you.
The fabric came away soaked.
"Open," Yeosang said softly. He wadded up the cum-soaked part of the dress and pushed it into your mouth.
You could taste all of it, your cum, their cum, your squirt, everything. You gagged a little but kept it there, looking up at them with tear-stained cheeks.
"Fuck, look at her," Seonghwa said.
"Hold on." Yeosang grabbed his phone. "Can I—"
You nodded, and he took a picture, then Seonghwa took one. You, naked and wrecked and gagged with your own dress, covered in marks and cum.
Yeosang pulled the dress out of your mouth and you gasped for air.
"One more thing," Seonghwa said, and he scooped cum from between your legs, you didn't even know whose it was at this point, and held his fingers to your lips.
You opened your mouth, and he fed it to you. Then he did it again. And again. Making you swallow every drop he could collect, a whole cocktail of cum.
"So nice," he murmured, and you whimpered.
When he was done, you collapsed back against the seat. Your body was still twitching with aftershocks.
For a minute, nobody moved. Just heavy breathing and your occasional whimper.
Then Yeosang was pulling you back into his lap, gentler this time. His hand smoothed down your back while Seonghwa found someone's jacket and draped it over your shoulders.
"You okay?" Yeosang asked quietly, lips against your temple.
"Mhm." Your voice was shot. "Just... holy shit."
"Yeah." He huffed a laugh. "Holy shit."
Seonghwa handed you a water bottle from somewhere up front. You didn't even question where it came from, just drank half of it in one go.
"So," Seonghwa said after a moment, looking around at the destroyed interior. The soaked leather seats, the fogged windows, the smell that would definitely never come out. "We're never getting the deposit back on this car."
You started laughing, and then Yeosang was laughing too, and suddenly all three of you were cracking up in the ruined backseat.
"Worth it though," you said when you could breathe again.
Yeosang kissed your shoulder, right over one of the bite marks he'd left. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You looked between them, Yeosang with his fucked-up hair and swollen lips, Seonghwa with your release still drying on his face. "Definitely worth it."
Seonghwa met your eyes, something unreadable in his expression. "This happening again?"
You felt Yeosang tense slightly behind you. Possessive, but not stopping you from answering.
"Maybe," you said. Then, because you couldn't help yourself, "If you can keep up next time."
Yeosang laughed against your neck, and even Seonghwa cracked a smile.
"Guess we'll see," Seonghwa said.
Outside, the sky was starting to lighten. You were naked in a destroyed car with your boyfriend and his friend, covered in evidence of what you'd just done, and you'd probably regret at least some of this soon.
