writing for ateez

you watch from your car as yunho helps san towards the parking lot (with a palm on his back). 

unlike yunho, with his faded-graphic sweatshirt, san does not look dressed for the weather, clad in one of many black fitted t-shirts. he’s a little flushed and his hair is all fluffy. san looks down and then pouts when yunho follows his gaze and laughs with a finger pointing to his chest. san murmurs something and yunho throws his head back with his eyes clamped shut. 

his bright laughter carries all the way to your car.

the rumbling of the engine starting back up knocks san back to reality. he’d maybe been resting his eyes the second yunho helped him into the seat and closed the door.

most of the ride home is you asking him trivial questions to gauge his sobriety, and him giving you affectionate answers, as he does after x amount of alcohol.

“sober enough t’see m’pretty girl’s face,” he gushes.

“sannie.”

“i only had like 3 shots… 4? m’not that tipsy.”

you flick the turn signal and tilt your head accusingly, fishing into your bag for a water bottle and handing it to him, smiling when he accepts it with two hands.

“your texts say otherwise.”

he shakes his head and adds sound for emphasis (you assume).

“mm, that was before. m’better now, i ev– actually, your texts say oth’wise. wha’the hell were you textin’ me???” 

when you glance over, his palm is on his warm cheek as he lifts the plastic bottle to his lips – upon which there is a firm, unnecessary pout – and he looks like an embarrassed kid.

“i was trying to get your attention. it worked, didn't it?” you pull the responsible adult voice on him and he groans before reaching over to curl his fingers around your arm, like he needs to be touching you or he’ll melt into the seat.

“well, yeah, but…”

he whines and drops his head sideways against the console, using his other hand as a pillow and closing his eyes as his eyebrows start to furrow in thought.

you knew what you were doing. you just wanted to tease him, didn't you?

the inside of his head is jumbled. he knows you won't fuck him if he's not sober… so he guesses he’ll figure out a way because there's no shot he's going straight to sleep in his condition, all hot and needy when you're right next to him. all because of a stupid text.

you barely made it through the door. 

scratch that, you barely made it to the door before he was on you, strong arms around your waist and his nose nudging the back of your neck.

when you do get inside, he’s already murmuring low against your skin, thumbs rubbing at your hips.

“i can't believe you jus’ texted me that,” he whines as you lock the front door and kick off your shoes, and he mirrors you. “like it didn’ mean an’thing.”

you look up at him innocently and brush your fingers through his hair. “texted you what?”

san’s lips form a pout and his hands find your hips again. his grip is tight, needy. his forehead falls to your shoulder and his fingers move to hold onto your waist. 

“y’have no idea wha’that did to me,” he whispers, as if it isn’t obvious by his hips pressing into your ass.

and then you make the mistake of laughing, because he makes a frustrated sound and pulls his face from your neck, brings one hand up to your jaw, and turns you to him. he kisses you like a man starved. messy and impatient. the force of it makes you stumble back, and he follows the movement until you're against the bedroom door. 

“y’cant just-” kiss “say things li’that-” kiss “an’ think m’not gonna go crazy,” and there's a whine in his voice that makes your body warm and your thighs press together.

“san,” you breathe, “we can't – you’re-”

his tongue tastes like alcohol and he damn near whimpers when your palms slide up his chest.

“don’ say that... please, i really fucking need you,” he says, staring with his brows pinched as he licks his lips.

one hand finds purchase on the door next to your head as his forehead falls back to your shoulder.

“please. i swear i’m okay now. i really…” he trails off, just breathing against your neck with a pout, before leaving a kiss or two there, soft and coaxing, “i just need to be inside you. can't believe y’playing dumb… you were trying to rile me up weren'you? y’so mean to me… you tricked me.”

you almost crack. 

“are you sure?”

all you hear is a whine from san, muffled against your skin.

“yes, yes m’sure. please.”

you hum, thinking it over as he breathes into your shoulder, thumbs habitually rubbing into your hips.

he should be somewhat sober now… he ate at the bar, drank over a few hours, waited another half hour for you to pick him up, took 10 minutes to get in the car (thanks wooyoung i guess), the ride home was about 20… and you gave him water on the way. if 1+1=2… then he’s definitely better than when you scooped him.

and to be honest, the way he's ely trying to win you over, the impatience in his voice, the whining… it’s almost intoxicating.

he feels your posture deflate as you sigh and he hesitantly pulls back to look at you, all flushed and wide-eyed. you take your time and whisper an “okay” and slowly nod. 

his response does not mirror your meticulous thought process.

san basically moans, mouth immediately finding yours, like he needs it. hungrier than before, now that you've granted him permission to stop pretending. the breath he lets out when your tongue slides against his is barely short of a whimper, and your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging until his body pushes into yours.

his hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, fingers at your lower back, hooking into your rear pockets. your bodies are pulled impossibly close, and then closer, heat and friction making your knees weak.

he blindly grabs at the bedroom door for the knob; as it opens, his hand shoots to your hip as you stumble back from the loss of support.

your arms wrap around his neck anyway, black strands caught between your fingers, and he groans into your mouth, grip tightening when your teeth tug at his lip.

the door is barely closed before he’s laying you so gently onto the bed, a contrast to the ion radiating off of him in waves, and the grace with which he touches you is enough to make you pause. you’re both panting as he leans over you, and you brush away hair from his face, staring up at your soapy-eyed boyfriend.

the pout he gives you is catastrophic, hiding his face in your neck as his hips meet yours in a heavy grind. “mmh, please…” 

“you’re so worked up, honey,” you whisper, lips against his ear.

his lips trail along your collarbone, hazy but eager, while your comb through his hair, your voice in his ear, cooing in that voice that makes him dizzy. 

“are you gonna be good for me, sannie?”

he just hums, but it sounds more like a whine.

“words. tell me.”

“uh huh.”

“uh huh what?”

“oh fuck…” you feel his fingers dig into your waist and a smile pulls on your lips before you can fight it.

“hm? talk to me, handsome.”

there’s a whimper against your neck. “i’ll be good – i’ll be good, pleasepleaseplease i need you so bad – please, honey…”

you can feel his hazy eyes on you as you shift backwards and nod toward the headboard. but he pauses, gaze flicking between you and the pillows. you raise an eyebrow and he immediately moves, pushing himself back against the headboard.

when you turn to him and crawl closer he basically moans, too dazed to do anything but splay his hands over your thighs when you straddle him, looking up at you and finding your doting smile.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he mumbles. “y’always smell so good, you're so sexy–”

“sani. you're not even inside me yet,” you say, teasing and soft as you roll your hips against him.

his breath stutters. “s-so? let me be sentimental. you never ride me when m’drunk…”

your hips pause. you tilt your head at his pout, brows furrowing, and he swallows when he sees the smirk that grows on your lips.

“i thought you weren’t drunk?”

“no, i–” he whines, eyes avoiding yours. “i’m.. only a little bit drunk…”

he looks up at you when you pat his cheek, flushed, pupils blown wide and needy.

"just a little?"

"uh-huh."

you hum and a smile paints your face warm, thumb stroking his face, and he melts. apparently, his restraint melted too because his hips start grinding up against you, pulling a soft gasp from his parted lips. 

shifting down onto his thighs, your hands drag down his broad chest and he huffs. “come back…” he whines, fingers reaching for your waist. 

“mm-mm, be patient, baby,” you murmur, and when your palm finally strokes over his clothed cock, palming him over his jeans, san squeaks. a short,  choked, high pitched noise that punches its way out of him.

your eyebrows shoot up, eyes lifting to his face which he now presses into the pillow, his ears flushing pink.

“what was that?” you question, smug, and trace the outline of him, smiling at his thinly veiled restraint when his hips lift off the bed.

“wha’was what?” he breathes.

“you squeaked.”

“i don't- mmh- i don't squeak,” the difference in his pitch between words and whimper is so addicting, you just can't help yourself.

“but you just did. can you do it again for me?” leaning forward, you whisper into his ear, and he pulls the sheets between his fingers.

he barely gets another breath out before you suddenly repeat the motion and his hand lifts from the mattress, fingers twitching. and then, lo and behold, choi san squeaks again.

“mmh- stop it- i-i’m sensitive…” san whines, head falling back.

you laugh and feel up his lower tummy to his chest, leaning in and nosing his cheek, “you’re so cute, baby.”

he lets out a relieved noise when he finds your waist again, only to be interrupted a second later.

“let’s get this off, yeah?” san’s tee is peeled from his hot torso by your thumbs at the hem, and he lifts his arms obediently, allowing you to pull it off easily. your hands immediately find his tan skin, like you missed it, like he got more attractive when you weren’t looking.

you always treat him softly (except for when you don't), gently, almost worshipful. though maybe worshipful is the wrong word, because you could never outdo him in that department. you always know the right buttons to push, the right thing to say, the right way to touch him so he adorns that glassy look and gets all fuzzy on you. 

san’s fingers linger at your hips, thumbs rubbing your pretty skin as he kisses down your neck, a little sloppy, but it only stokes the heat in your chest. his lips move against your throat but you can barely make it out.

“please…”

his grip on your hips suddenly jumps in force when he grinds you down into him, sucking in a breath at the contact. “wanna be inside you, please, honey..” 

he whines, as if your body wasn’t aching enough already.

“missed you all day…”

“yeah?” you take his hand from where it rests at your lower back and place his large palm on your cheek, looking down at his flushed face with hearts in your eyes.

“mhm..”

san swears that he blinks and suddenly his & your clothes are nowhere to be seen. you always make him dizzy but this is different for some reason (hmm… i wonder…). your pretty voice, your hair brushing his face when you kiss him so lovingly, your gentle hands on his body as he melts into the pillows, giving you a dreamy hum whenever you say something.

he feels your weight on his thigh and instinctively tenses, biting his lip when he realizes you’re basically dripping. the muscle places perfect pressure on your clit for just a second and you let out a sigh, hands running up his torso to rest on his chest.

your stomach is sticky where his cock leaks, needy, pressed between your bodies as you tease him. 

“can you be patient, baby?” you whisper against his kiss-bitten, parted lips.

“mm-mm,” he sucks his lip between his teeth and shakes his head, staring up at you; big, slow hands stroke your thighs, his own shifting against the sheets in his restlessness.

you play in his face  you play with him and hum in distaste, but lean back and wrap your fingers around his untouched cock anyway, his grip on you flickering between restrained and starving.

it’s as if he can sense how wet you are, because he mouths at your neck, hands feeling up your sides as you tease him in his pitiful state.

“please,” he breathes. “jus’ wanna be inside you…”

his lips are soft and a little swollen when they meet yours, and his exhale shudders when your thumb crosses over his tip, coaxing a smile from you. the rest of your fingers hold him securely in your palm.

“really? how bad?” 

you feel him twitch in your grip.

his blown-out eyes flick between yours as he whines. “so bad- y/n… you’re so- so fucking mean to me.”

“thought you liked me that way,” you whisper against his cheek, lips brushing his skin.

you guide him to your entrance, just barely, just to let the flushed head slip inside, and then stop. 

san lets out the kind of moan that should be behind a paywall; choked and guttural and it makes you squeeze around him, his grip on your thighs twitching as he gasps in response. his chest is heaving under you and all you’ve done is tease him a little. you guess the alcohol did a number on him (and tuck it in your head for a later date).

when you pause, not taking the rest of him, he looks up at you and pouts.

“baby…”

“say please.”

“please,” he immediately breathes, and traps his bottom lip between his teeth. 

he always gives in so easily when it comes to you.

he hisses through his teeth as you sink all the way down until he’s stretching you out. he lets out something between a gasp and a plea, because you’re hot, soaked, and gripping him so tight he swears he can feel your heartbeat through your pussy; you’re so full of him your head feels empty for a second. 

san’s eyes immediately squeeze shut and his fingers tighten enough to leave crescents on your waist. his exhale is a whine, and suddenly he looks like he's trying to keep himself from cumming in 30 seconds just because you fit so perfectly around him.

he goes a minute without saying anything, so you take initiative and speak first.

“you okay? sannie, don’t tell me you’re falling asleep on me,” you murmur with a finger brushing his sweat-sheened forehead. god, you just can't help yourself, can you?

his brows twitch and he slowly shakes his head, voice coming out breathless and soft, “no, you- mmh, wait – don't wanna cum too fast…”

“it’s okay. s’cute when you cum fast,” he whines when you tease him.

“god,” he gasps, head falling back, voice already frayed, “s’just – too much–”

you smirk, tilting your head, “it’s not too much, you’re just sensitive.”

“i’m not–” he starts, but then you clench around him just slightly, just enough to make him whimper, and his sentence dissolves into a shaky moan against your neck.

you can tell he’s trying so hard not to fuck up into you, trying not to chase it. trying so hard to be good. but his thighs are tense and trembling under your weight… and you’re just so fucking beautiful when you moan, you know that?

san holds onto your middle like he’s suffocating, pulling you down harder onto him with every thrust, your combined heat turning the small proximity into something sweltering.

the rhythmic sound of your skin fills the room as he pants under you, his blunt fingernails dig into your skin and it makes you grit your teeth, your own hands finding his to help soothe his desperate grip on you.

“so eager,” you whisper and let your palms drift up to his chest. your fingers roll over a nipple and he huffs, lip wobbling.

“only f’you. m’all yours, honey, only yours,” he mumbles mindlessly.

he grabs your hand and brings the back of it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. his chest is a victim to your other hand, and he whimpers against your fingers, eyes fluttering when your fingertips find his lips.

“y’so beautiful, m’pretty wife,” he slurs gently with your thumb prodding into his mouth. the brown eyes crowned by his lashes threaten to roll back and you can feel him twitch inside you.

at some point he begins to match your pace, eager, just as you said. and then you roll your hips again to deliberately ruin his rhythm, and he gasps.

“can't even fuck me properly,” you whisper, a mean smile on your lips. “you're so close already, aren't you?”

san’s breath hitches. “uh-huh,” he chokes out, clinging tight to your waist.

“you gonna cum for me, baby?” you tease breathlessly, voice low and sweet. your hand slides to the back of his neck and lean closer, “gonna finish inside like a good boy? fill me up?”

you feel him pulse inside you and watch as his lashes flutter, nodding wildly. “mhm, please… please let me cum inside you, please–”

“yeah? wanna give me all of it?”

you're caught by surprise when his arms wrap around your middle and pull you down against him while his hips thrust up into you relentlessly. for a second, you swear stars bloom behind your eyes because he keeps hitting deeper, and deeper, and deeper, knocking you (no pun intended) closer and closer to your orgasm.

“wanna cum f’you- please, please, please-” he’s murmuring hurriedly into your ear as your breath brushes his neck. 

he punches the breath out of you and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his flushed face from your shoulder to catch his lips in yours. it’s all teeth and tongue, a heated exchange far from patient. 

and then his back is arching up into you and his grip turns iron, lungs heaving under his ribs. a breathy curse is pulled from his throat, he squeezes his eyes shut, and quickly buries himself right back where you pulled him from.

he clenches his jaw and then his mouth falls open as his orgasm hits like a truck, moving through him sudden and raw. 

with a gasp, he bucks once, twice, without rhythm, jolting you as his release fills you to the brim, and the feeling makes your hips slow just a fraction to savor the satisfaction.

at this point, the hold he has on you makes it nearly impossible to keep riding him at the pace you’ve set, so you grab his wrists and he immediately yields; he lets you bring them over his head as your mouth finds his neck.

“just a little more, baby,” you’re so close your voice shakes.

his hands strain in yours, fingers curling tight like he needs something to hold onto as he cries out from the overbearing sensations you’ve subjected him to.

he chokes, “please, please–”

your breath stutters and his back arches out of reflex when he feels you clench around him, your forehead against his. 

a whimper slips from your lips at your climax, and he whines under you, high and desperate.

your hips slow and the tension begins to ease. you’re suddenly aware of his release seeping from your cunt and the sweat rolling down your neck, but you catch his lips as his hands gradually relax in your hold.

“did so good for me,” you breathe against his lips, sweet and gentle, “so good.” your thumbs caress his palms as he pants, and his short, black hair is damp at the root as you comb it from his forehead.

“love you,” you think he says. his soft musings feel mindless, almost instinctive, and your chest warms at the thought. 

you would've conked out right there if you could, but you'd hate yourself if you didn't pamper him after sex. (no ulterior motives here…)

miraculously, you made it to the shower and back into bed, thanks to your boyfriend and his seemingly never-ending strength (which you gushed to him about, him very happily blushing under your sweet gaze and sleepy smile as your hands habitually roamed his toned arms and tummy). with the way he carried you and set you down so gently, water cascading down his front, muscles glistening in the warm bathroom light, it’s a surprise you didn't find yourself itching for seconds. 

alas, your shared exhaustion was evident enough in how your brain slowed to seconds per thought (see: seconds per frame).

“hope you don't wake up with a headache, baby…”

“i told you, i didn't drink that much,” san grumbles into your neck, and you hum and pet his hair.

“i didn't take you for a horny drunk.”

“m’not! ask woo, m’not usually like this…” san whines without rhythm, brows furrowing while his heavy eyes close.

you laugh through your nose and press your lips to his hair, holding his face against your chest. his fingers are soft against your back, sighing, quiet and dreamy.

“yeah, i’ve got a lot to ask woo, don’t i?”

he’s out cold.

masterlist ─────────────    @my1003soda  2026 <3

; HI GUYSSS THIS MIGHT BE MY FAVORITE THING EVER I THOUGHT ABOUT DU1M EVERY SECOND OF MY DAY I EAT SLEEP AND BREATHE DU1M, i've been writing this for a month im so happy to finally post it. hope yall like it and pls comment i love talking to all my little freaks in my phone mwah mwah mwah ty for all the support and interest even tho this took me 57 years to finish ily

The first thing San thinks when he walks into the dance studio is that he has absolutely no business being here.

The second is that his coach is going to pay for this.

The studio is nothing like the training facilities he's used to. There are mirrors stretching from one wall to the other, sunlight spilling through enormous windows, and music humming softly through the speakers even though no one is dancing yet.

The floor is smooth beneath the soles of his trainers, polished enough that he can see the vague reflection of his own legs.

Behind him, one of his teammates mutters something about this being the most embarrassing training session of their lives. San barely hears him. He's looking at the people across the room.

The dancers.

They're scattered around the studio, stretching and talking among themselves, completely at ease in a space that feels foreign to him. One has a leg folded impossibly high over her shoulder. Another is lying flat on his back, reaching his fingertips toward his toes. Someone laughs, bright and effortless, and San finds himself wondering how anyone can look that comfortable while doing something that seems like it should hurt.

Then he sees him.

He's standing near the mirrors with his back half-turned, talking to another dancer. Black sweatpants sit low on his hips, a loose white longsleeve t-shirt tucked carelessly at one side, and his dark hair falls into his eyes when he laughs. There's nothing particularly intimidating about him.

If anything, he's the opposite. He's quite...Pretty. That's the first word that comes to San's mind, and he immediately dislikes himself for thinking it.

The guy turns and their eyes meet through the mirror. For one strange second, neither of them looks away. San doesn't know what the other man sees. Probably just another football player. Another broad-shouldered body in club training gear, another athlete who has been dragged here against his will.

But then the corner of the dancer's mouth lifts, but it's not a smile. It's something worse. A little knowing curve of his lips, as though he's just caught San doing something he shouldn't.

San looks away first.

"Don't tell me you're already scared."

He turns and glances toward his teammate. "Of dancing?" His teammate grins and shakes his head.

"Of embarrassment."

San scoffs, rolling his shoulders as he looks back toward the studio.

The dancer is still watching him. This time, when their eyes meet, he doesn't look away. Instead, he smiles properly.

San has played in front of thousands of people. He's had defenders twice his size trying to knock him off his feet. He's stood over penalty kicks with an entire stadium holding its breath, and yet none of it has ever made his stomach do what it does now.

The coach claps his hands. "Alright, boys. Listen up." The room settles quietly and San forces himself to pay attention.

They've been split into groups, apparently, and each group will be paired with one of the dancers for the next few weeks. The coach explains the program while the dancers begin gathering around them.

San nods along, pretending to care about hip mobility and proprioception when, in reality, he's far more aware of the person walking toward him.

The pretty one.

Up close, he's even worse. His eyes are dark and bright at the same time, his features sharp enough to make San understand why he kept noticing him from across the room. There's a small beauty mark near his cheekbone that San catches himself looking at before he can stop.

"Choi San, right?" His voice is warm and playful. San clears his throat. "Yeah." The dancer holds out his hand. "Wooyoung."

San takes it, expecting a normal handshake. But instead, Wooyoung's fingers curl loosely around his, and his thumb brushes once over San's knuckle before he lets go.

It's probably accidental.

Probably.

"So," Wooyoung says, looking him up and down with absolutely no shame, "you're a footballer." San raises an eyebrow. "That's what they tell me."

Wooyoung laughs. It's soft and amused, and San suddenly understands that this is going to be a problem.

"You're funny."

"I'm really not."

"That's okay." Wooyoung tilts his head. "You're pretty enough to make up for it." San stares at him. Wooyoung's smile widens. And just like that, San knows two things. One: he is never going to survive this training program. Two: he's going to like every second of it.

The coach barely finishes explaining the first exercise before Wooyoung is already moving toward the center of the studio, clapping his hands together once to gather everyone's attention. "Alright. Footballers on one side, dancers on the other. And please try not to injure yourselves." A collective groan rises from the footballers, followed by a laugh from somewhere behind San.

"That's our line," one of his teammates calls.

Wooyoung grins. "I know. That's why I said it."

San finds himself smiling before he can help it. There is something about the guy that makes it almost impossible not to. He moves through the room with the kind of confidence San usually associates with people who have never once questioned whether they're allowed to take up space. Every gesture is effortless, every expression just a little too knowing. He isn't simply comfortable being watched; he seems to enjoy it.

"You're smiling."

San looks up to find Wooyoung looking straight at him from across the studio. "I wasn't."

"You were."

"You can't see my face from there."

Wooyoung's mouth curves. "I can see everything."

San huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, and Wooyoung immediately points at him like he's just caught him doing something incriminating. "There. Again."

The other dancers start laughing too, and San can feel the beginnings of a smile tugging at his own mouth despite himself. He has known this man for approximately five minutes and somehow already knows he's going to be trouble.

"Come here, pretty boy."

The nickname catches him off guard. San looks over, eyebrows raised. "Pretty boy?" Wooyoung shrugs as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Did I lie?"

San holds his gaze for a moment, suddenly aware of the attention from the people around them. Then, because he can't seem to help himself, he gives a small shrug of his own. "No."

For once, Wooyoung is the one who goes quiet. It's only for a second, but San notices the brief flicker of surprise in his eyes before that familiar grin spreads across his face again. "Okay," Wooyoung says, sounding far too pleased with himself. "I like you."

Someone behind them lets out a loud whistle, and San immediately feels warmth creep up the back of his neck. "Can we train now?"

"We are training."

"You've spent five minutes flirting,'' San interjects. Wooyoung looks genuinely confused. "And?" San exhales through his nose, fighting another smile. "You're unbelievable."

"I've been called worse." Wooyoung gestures toward himself. "Come on. I'll show you what we're doing."

The first exercise is simple enough: controlled lunges, deep stretches and a series of balance movements designed to loosen the hips and improve stability. San isn't worried. His body is his job, and he's spent years learning exactly what it can do. He can handle a little stretching.

What he isn't prepared for is Wooyoung apparently deciding that every correction requires physical contact. "Your knee," Wooyoung says, crouching beside him. San adjusts it.

"Other way." He shifts it again, and Wooyoung gives an exaggerated sigh. "You're very stubborn."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?"

San turns his head, ready with an argument, only to realize just how close Wooyoung is. Up close, he's even prettier. San can see the tiny flecks of chocolate brown in his eyes, the faint flush in his cheeks from warming up, and the little beauty mark under his eye that he'd noticed earlier from across the room.

"Then tell me what I'm doing wrong," San says. Wooyoung's eyes briefly drop to his mouth before lifting again. "You really want me to?"

San's brain stalls for half a second. Wooyoung's smile immediately gives him away. "Relax. I'm talking about your posture."

"Right."

"I mean, unless..."

San gives him a look, and Wooyoung laughs quietly before placing one hand against San's hip. The touch is light, professional enough that San has no reason to react to it, and yet his entire body seems to notice it anyway. Wooyoung shifts him a few inches into the correct position, his fingers lingering just long enough to make San wonder if it was intentional.

"There," he murmurs. "Better."

San swallows. "You do that on purpose."

"Do what?" Wooyoung asks with a mischievous smile. San narrows his eyes and stays silent for a beat. "Nothing."

Wooyoung's eyebrows rise. "Oh, now who's flirting?"

"I'm not flirting."

"You definitely are."

"I'm literally standing here, looking at you," San sighs.

"And you're doing a very good job of it."

San laughs despite himself, the sound coming out softer than he expects. Wooyoung looks at him for a moment, and something in his expression changes. The teasing slips away just slightly, leaving something warmer behind. It lasts only a second before he steps back and claps his hands together.

"Alright, football star. Let's see what you've got."

The next exercise is harder.

It's a balance sequence, one leg planted while the other extends behind them, forcing them to rotate through their torso without losing their center of gravity. The dancers make it look effortless. The footballers, on the other hand, are quickly discovering that being good at football does not automatically make you good at standing on one leg while twisting your body like a human pretzel.

Someone falls over almost immediately, earning a burst of laughter from the dancers. San manages to stay upright. "Show-off," Wooyoung says from beside him.

"You challenged me," San defends himself.

"I did."

San steadies himself, glancing at him with a small smile. "Then don't complain when I win." Wooyoung's eyes narrow playfully. "Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe."

"Oh, I like challenges."

"Clearly,'' San smirks. Wooyoung steps into position beside him, their shoulders almost brushing. "Loser buys coffee." San glances over. "You're on."

"Winner gets to choose where."

"Fine."

"And if I win?"

San considers him for a moment. "Anything." The word is barely out before he realizes how it sounds. Wooyoung goes completely still. "Anything?"

"Within reason," San quickly adds. "Shame." Wooyoung's grin turns wicked. "I had ideas."

"You've known me for twenty minutes."

"That's plenty of time, Choi."

"For what?" Wooyoung looks him up and down with absolutely no shame. "To know you're cute." San shakes his head, looking down as he tries not to smile, but when he looks back, Wooyoung is already watching him. There's something different about his expression now. He isn't laughing, isn't teasing. He's simply looking.

San catches him staring. "What?" Wooyoung blinks. "Nothing."

"You're staring."

"Can you blame me?"

The answer knocks the smile right off San's face.

Not because he's uncomfortable. If anything, the opposite. He simply has no idea what to do with someone who says things like that so easily, as though complimenting him is as natural as breathing.

Wooyoung seems to find his silence endlessly entertaining. A quiet laugh slips from him as he shakes his head. "You're really easy."

"Easy?"

"To fluster," Wooyoung explains. "I'm not flustered," San says, trying to maintain a straight face.

"Sure, you are,'' Wooyoung nods.

"I'm not."

"Okay." Wooyoung takes one small step closer. San instinctively holds his ground, and suddenly there is barely any space between them. Wooyoung tilts his head back to look at him, the playful glint in his eyes returning.

"Then look at me."

San does. And immediately regrets it. Because Wooyoung is smiling, but it's softer this time, almost affectionate, and San suddenly realizes that maybe the flirting isn't entirely about getting a reaction. Maybe Wooyoung actually likes the way San looks at him when he does it.

Before he can figure out what to do with that realization, the coach calls for them to switch exercises.

Wooyoung steps away first, his smile returning to something teasing as he gestures for San to follow. "Come on, pretty boy." San exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Stop calling me that."

"No."

"Why?"

Wooyoung looks over his shoulder, and the grin he gives him is positively infuriating. "Because you like it."

San doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. The smile on Wooyoung's face tells him he already knows.

The next exercise looks deceptively simple.

As the dancing teams leader, Wooyoung lines the footballers up in front of the mirrors and explains that they're going to work on rhythm and coordination. There is a short sequence of steps to follow, nothing particularly complicated, but the dancers move through it with such ease that San immediately understands why the coaches have included this in their training.

It isn't about strength. There is no ball to chase, no opponent to read, no obvious objective to focus on. It's about listening to the music and letting your body respond to it.

San doesn't like it. Not because he can't keep up. Physically, the steps are easy enough. The problem is that he keeps anticipating them.

"You're rushing." San looks over. Wooyoung is standing beside him, arms folded, watching him through the mirror. "I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm following the beat," San says to defend himself. A habit he often falls back into. "You're following the beat like it personally offended you." A few of the dancers laugh, and San rolls his eyes. "What's wrong with it?"

"Everything." Wooyoung walks toward him, shaking his head. "You're too tense." San glances down at himself. "I'm relaxed." Wooyoung gives him a look. San sighs. "Fine. I'm not relaxed."

"Exactly." Wooyoung steps closer, reaching out to tap two fingers against San's shoulder. "You're thinking about every movement before you make it. Stop doing that."

"That's how I play."

"I know. That's why you're bad at this." San's eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?" Wooyoung smiles sweetly. "You heard me." San should probably be offended. Instead, he finds himself fighting a grin.

"Again," Wooyoung says. The music starts and San follows the sequence, concentrating on keeping his movements clean and precise. He catches every step this time, but when the music stops, Wooyoung shakes his head.

"Still wrong."

"What am I doing wrong now?" San sighs, almost whines. Wooyoung smirks at the sound. "You're dancing like you're trying to win."

"I am trying to win."

"It's not a competition, though,'' Wooyoung says, placing his hand on his hip. San enjoys his sassy additude more than he'd like to admit.

"Everything's a competition."

Wooyoung laughs. "God, you're exhausting."

He walks around San, studying him from different angles, and San suddenly becomes very aware of the fact that they are alone in their little section of the studio. The others are still practicing, music filling the room, but Wooyoung's attention is completely focused on him.

Then a hand settles against San's side. San goes still. "Your hips," Wooyoung says casually. "You're keeping them too rigid." San looks at him.

Wooyoung doesn't seem remotely bothered by the effect his touch has had. If anything, he seems amused by it. His palm stays lightly against San's side as he guides him through the movement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Don't fight the rhythm," he murmurs. "Let it move through you."

San tries again.

"Better."

Wooyoung's hand slides briefly to his waist, correcting his position before settling there again. San's attention catches on the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of his shirt, and suddenly the music seems louder than it was a moment ago.

"You're doing it again," Wooyoung says. San looks at him, keeping in a sigh. "Doing what?" Wooyoung grins. "Thinking."

"I'm supposed to think."

"Not about this."

San looks at him through the mirror. Wooyoung meets his eyes. For once, neither of them says anything. Then Wooyoung's mouth curves. "Trust me."

Something about the way he says it makes San's stomach tighten. He nods. "Good."

Wooyoung moves behind him, close enough that San can feel the warmth of him without quite touching. "Now follow me."

The music starts again. This time, San tries to stop controlling every movement. He lets himself follow the rhythm instead of counting it in his head, letting his weight shift naturally from one foot to the other. It feels strange at first, almost vulnerable, but gradually the tension begins to leave his shoulders.

"There," Wooyoung murmurs.

His hand returns to San's waist, guiding him through the next movement. "See? You're not as hopeless as you look." San smiles at their reflection. "You said I was bad."

"You were."

"And now?"

Wooyoung's eyes meet his in the mirror. "Now you're getting interesting." San's smile falters. Wooyoung seems pleased with himself. "Again," he says.

They go through the sequence once more, and this time San catches the rhythm almost immediately. He moves with more confidence, less precision and more instinct. When the music stops, he turns toward Wooyoung.

"Better?"

Wooyoung looks him over slowly. "Much."

San waits. Wooyoung's grin returns. "But I think you need more practice."

"More?"

"Definitely." San laughs. "Convenient."

"Very."

Wooyoung reaches for his hand before San can question it, turning his palm upward and loosely threading their fingers together as he positions their arms for the next step. The touch is so casual that San almost misses the fact that they're holding hands.

Almost. He looks down. Then back at Wooyoung. "Is this part of the training?" Wooyoung's eyes sparkle. "Absolutely."

"You're lying."

"Probably."

San laughs, and Wooyoung's expression softens as he watches him. "Come on," he says, tugging gently at San's hand. "I'll teach you properly."

San lets himself be pulled back into position. He should probably be more concerned about the training. Instead, he's starting to wonder how much longer he can pretend he doesn't enjoy having Wooyoung's hands on him.

They keep practicing.

At first, the room is still loud with conversation and laughter, the footballers complaining whenever Wooyoung adds another variation to the sequence and the dancers correcting them from across the studio.

San barely notices the time passing. Every time he thinks they've finally got it, Wooyoung changes something small. The timing of a step, the angle of his shoulders, the way he shifts his weight... and San finds himself trying again.

Then, gradually, the room starts to empty. One of the players checks his phone and groans when he realizes how late it is. Another grabs his bag and calls a goodbye across the room. The coach leaves soon after, satisfied that they've done enough for one session, and the remaining footballers slowly follow.

San stays. He tells himself it's because he still can't get the sequence exactly right. That is technically true. It has nothing to do with the fact that Wooyoung is still here too.

"You don't have to stay," Wooyoung says eventually, watching another player disappear through the studio doors. San glances at him. "Neither do you." Wooyoung smiles. "I know."

There is something about the answer that makes San look at him for a second longer than necessary. Neither of them moves. Then Wooyoung turns the music back on. "Again?"

San nods. "Again."

The studio feels different with fewer people in it. The mirrors reflect only the two of them now, the enormous room suddenly seeming much quieter despite the music. Without the others around, San becomes painfully aware of every little thing. The sound of Wooyoung's breathing when they stop, the soft squeak of their shoes against the floor and even the occasional brush of their arms when they move too close.

And Wooyoung doesn't seem interested in giving him any distance. "You're still anticipating the beat," he says.

"I'm not."

"You are."

San sighs. "Show me."

Wooyoung steps in front of him. "Watch." He moves through the sequence slowly this time, breaking it down into individual shifts of weight. San watches carefully, but his attention keeps wandering to the way Wooyoung moves. There is something almost hypnotic about it. He isn't thinking about where his body should go; it simply knows. He hates how it turns him on.

"Your turn." San copies him and Wooyoung nods once, then steps closer. "Again."

San does it.

"Slower."

He tries again.

"Don't fight it."

"I'm not,'' San interjects. "You are," Wooyoung laughs. San groans and runs his hand through his hair. "You're very annoying."

"And you're very stubborn." Wooyoung reaches out, placing both hands against San's small waist. "Stop trying to control everything."

San's breath catches. Wooyoung notices. But he doesn't tease him this time. He simply guides San through the movement, his hands firm enough to show him where to shift and gentle enough that San finds himself relaxing into the touch.

"Here," Wooyoung murmurs. "Feel that?" San nods. "Don't move from your head. Move from here." His fingers press lightly against San's side and San follows the motion. "Good."

The praise shouldn't affect him as much as it does.

"Again," Wooyoung says.

They do it again. And again. By the fifth time, San has stopped thinking about getting it perfect. He's simply following Wooyoung's hands, following the music, following the rhythm that seems to settle somewhere beneath his skin.

When the song ends, neither of them immediately steps away. San looks at Wooyoung. Wooyoung looks back.

"You got it," he says quietly. San smiles. "Finally."

"I told you."

"You also told me I was hopeless."

"You were."

San laughs, and Wooyoung's expression softens.

The silence that follows is different from the ones before. There are no teammates laughing somewhere behind them, no coach calling instructions, no dancers moving around them. Just the two of them standing in the middle of an empty studio.

San glances toward the clock. It's later than he thought. "You really should go home," Wooyoung says. San looks back at him. "Do you want me to?" Wooyoung's smile is slow. "No."

The answer is so immediate that San's heart gives a strange little kick. "Good," he says. Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. "Good?"

"I don't want to go either."

Something flickers across Wooyoung's face. Then he smiles. "That's convenient." San steps a little closer. "Why?" Wooyoung's tongue pokes into his cheek before speaking. "Because I was starting to think you only stayed because you wanted to get better."

San lets out a quiet laugh. "Maybe I did."

"Maybe?"

"At first."

Wooyoung's eyes narrow playfully. "And now?"

San looks at him for a long moment. "Now I think I found something more interesting to practice."

"Oh," he says softly.

San doesn't move. He barely breathes. They're close enough now that he can see the slight curve of Wooyoung's smile, the way his eyes flick down to San's mouth and linger there for just a moment too long.

"I think you did."

Neither of them laughs this time.

The music has stopped, leaving the studio almost unnaturally quiet. San can hear the faint hum of the speakers, the distant noise of traffic beyond the windows, and beneath all of it, the steady thud of his own heartbeat.

Wooyoung's gaze lifts again. "You're staring."

"So are you."

"I was first."

San's mouth curves. "You always are." Wooyoung laughs softly, but it fades almost immediately when San reaches out and catches his wrist. The gesture seems to surprise both of them. San's fingers loosen slightly, giving him every opportunity to pull away.

Wooyoung doesn't. Instead, his eyes drop to San's hand before slowly lifting again. "You know," he murmurs, "for someone who was so shy earlier, you're getting brave."

"Maybe you're rubbing off on me."

"That's dangerous," Wooyoung smirks.

"Probably."

Wooyoung's smile turns softer. Then he closes the remaining distance. The first touch of his lips is almost tentative, barely more than a question, but San answers immediately. His hand slips from Wooyoung's wrist to his waist, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens, and whatever hesitation had been left between them disappears.

Wooyoung makes a quiet sound against his mouth, one that sends a jolt straight through San. His hands find San's shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as San tilts his head and kisses him again, slower this time, like he's trying to memorize the feeling.

It's nothing like the teasing touches they've shared all afternoon. This is real. Warm and breathless and far more intense than either of them seemed prepared for.

When they finally separate, it's only by an inch. Wooyoung's eyes are still closed. San can't help smiling. "You're quiet."

"Don't ruin it."

San laughs under his breath. Wooyoung opens his eyes and gives him a look. "You talk too much."

"You've been talking all night."

"Yeah, but I was flirting."

"And now?"

Wooyoung's gaze drops to his mouth again. "Now I'm thinking." San's heart stutters. "About what?" Wooyoung smiles. "Whether I should kiss you again."

San doesn't bother answering. He simply leans in.

The second kiss is less careful than the first, both of them smiling into it before the laughter fades and they're left caught up in each other again. San's hand settles securely at Wooyoung's waist, while Wooyoung's fingers slide into the hair at the back of his neck, keeping him close.

When they finally pull apart, Wooyoung rests his forehead against San's. "So," he whispers, still smiling, "you staying late was definitely worth it."

San closes his eyes for a moment, smiling helplessly. "Yeah." Wooyoung brushes his thumb lightly along San's cheek.

"I think we need another training session right about now."

San opens his eyes. "Is that what we're calling this?" Wooyoung grins. "Absolutely."

San laughs, pulling him close again. "You're impossible."

"And you like it." San presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Unfortunately."

Wooyoung's smile turns radiant. "That's okay." He leans in again. "I like it too."

Their lips press against each other again and this time Wooyoung presses his entire body against San's. San tenses up a little when he feels his body react immediately, feeling all the blood rush down.

Wooyoung smirks into the kiss and reaches between them, his hand sliding over San's crotch before cupping his semi-hard member. San moans softly when Wooyoung gives his cock a squeeze.

San pulls away from Wooyoung's mouth and he feels his chest heave as his cock grows harder in Wooyoung's grip.

''Let me see what you've got there, pretty boy.'' It's not a question, it is an order, and Wooyoung's face makes that clear.

San loves it.

He is quick to push down his football shorts and underwear down in one go, his hard cock springing free. Wooyoung smirks and raises an eyebrow.

''That handsome and packing all that? That's not very fair for other men, is it?'' Wooyoung teases. He sinks down on his knees in front of the footballer, his hands running over San's bare thighs.

''It's not that big-''

''Shut up.''

San raises an eyebrow but obeys.

He's aware he's broad, buff and handsome and would seem like a dominating type of guy, but if he's really honest? Getting ordered around really gets him off, especially with someone as straightforward as Wooyoung.

''Now of course this is just training,'' Wooyoung starts with a grin, ''so we're going to train your hips now, your endurance... maybe your rhythm?''

''That... seems fair, yeah,'' San says, just going along with whatever the smaller says. Wooyoung's hands slide up to San's firm ass, pulling him closer to his face, cock twitching at the motion.

Wooyoung takes San's cock in his mouth and swallows him deeply. San gasps and his eyes widen. He quickly learns Wooyoung truly matches no other.

He's slept with enough people to know Wooyoung is a pro, not even needing to start slow to take his entire length. He whimpers when he feels himself hit the back of Wooyoung's throat.

''Holy f-fuck,'' San stammers, his arms swinging around, looking for something to hold onto.

Wooyoung bobs his head up and down at a fast pace, making the most obscene sounds while letting him hit his throat again and again.

''Jeez- do you not have a gag reflex? Holy- Wooyoung, God,'' San moans out. Wooyoung pulls himself off San's dick with a grin. ''Not really,'' he says casually.

''So about that practice... Start with fucking my mouth. I want you to fuck my mouth until I tell you to stop, and you better not cum.''

San swallows thickly, his eyes widening before nodding. He takes the base of his dick in his hand, pumping himself a few times before pushing the tip against Wooyoung's plump lips.

Wooyoung's jaw drops and invites San's rock hard cock inside. He feels it glide far over his tongue, all the way down to the back of his throat. He looks up at San from below with big watery eyes as San starts to thrust his hips forward.

But his eyes aren't pleading. They're demanding. Wooyoung knows exactly what he is doing and he knows what he wants.

San moans as he keeps thrusting himself into Wooyoung's mouth, his hair running through the other's soft raven locks. When he picks up his pace he bites his lip, to keep from moaning louder.

He barely notices he does it, until Wooyoung claws at his ass, his eyes demanding a reaction from him. Demanding to hear his name spill off San's pink lips.

''Fuck, Wooyoung,'' he curses, ''your mouth is heaven. If this is practice I fucking love it. Let's practice every day, Wooyoung.''

Wooyoung moans around San's length, leaning his head back slightly so San sinks even further down. He notices San's legs tremble slightly and his cock twitches in his mouth. Guessing he is close, Wooyoung digs his nails into San's ass, slapping it.

San lets out a startled moan and feels himself get close. But he remembers Wooyoung told him not to, so he diverts his attention. he tries to think of anything else. Dirty football socks. Laundry. Grass. The locker room stench. Balloons-

Thank fucking God.

Wooyoung pushes him away, catching his breath as a tear rolls down his cheek.

''Right, that's g-good. Good stamina, good rhythm, very good, mhm,'' Wooyoung breathes out. San licks his lips, cock twitching at the praise. Of course, the smaller notices immediately.

''You really enjoy that, don't you?''

''What...? San asks, not sure what Wooyoung is aiming at.

''Praise,'' Wooyoung says with a knowing smile, ''You have a praise kink.''

San laughs and rolls his eyes. ''Doesn't everyone like being told they do well?''

''Most people do but... it gets you off,'' Wooyoung says, ''I know your type.''

''What does that mean?''

''Nothing, pretty boy,'' Wooyoung sushes him as he removes his own clothes.

Firstly, his white longsleeve comes off, revealing tattoos that San never expected Wooyoung to have. When also his sweats and boxers come off he notices his mouth starts to water.

When San reaches for the hem of his own shirt too, Wooyoung stops him. ''Keep that on, just... a little longer.''

San raises his eyebrow but his thoughts immediately trail off once Wooyoung lays down on the floor, butt-naked, with his legs spread. Quickly he follows and situates himself between them.

Without a word San pulls Wooyoung's crotch close to his face, waiting for an order. Wooyoung smirks, his leaky dick twitching against his abs. ''Are you hungry, pretty boy?''

That's all San needs to hear before diving his tongue to his puckering hole. He tests the waters first, slowly licking across his hole and licking the rim around it. Wooyoung whimpers softly before it turns into a full moan.

San licks and sucks at his hole, his tongue prodding at Wooyoung's entrance as his hand reaches up to his balls. ''You're loose,'' he moans against his ass.

''I like to warm up before dancing,'' Wooyoung breathes out, his hand reaching for San's head, keeping it right where he wants it.

''Warm up what exactly?'' San smirks.

''Shut up, god forbid I get horny in the morning. Keep your mouth busy with other things, I beg of you.''

San keeps going for a few more minutes until Wooyoung turns into a moaning mess. ''Fuck, that's a good boy. That's enough.''

''Call me that again,'' San says, but it barely comes out as a whisper. But Wooyoung hears it clear enough.

''That's a good boy. My good boy. Right? You wanna hear that? Fuck me then, put that big cock inside me and fuck me greedily like the good boy you are.''

San swears he's about to explode by now. He doesn't waste any more time. He spits one last time on Wooyoung's loose hole, rubbing it across the rim with his finger before sliding himself inside.

Wooyoung whimpers and cries out as his hole stretches around San's thickness, ''Fuuuuckkk...''

''Shit, baby- Wooyoung, are you okay? Too fast?'' San worries immediately, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort across Wooyoung's face, but all he's met with is utter bliss.

''Fuck me, please, just- God, don't have any mercy okay? I want you to fuck me as hard as you can, can you do that, my big boy?''

San swears he could just cum right at the spot.

''Yeah, yeah I can do that.''

He stays true to his words as he slams his cock hard inside Wooyoung, making him moan out his name. He moves fast and hard, keeping a steady rhythm.

''Y-You feel so good, Wooyoung,'' San moans, lifting Wooyoung's legs up and letting them rest on his shoulders for better access, nearly folding him up in half as he again quickens his pace.

Wooyoung moans obscenely loud, his red cock desperately leaking pre-cum. ''San! O-oh yes, yes give it to me, yes, my boy, yes, ye-YES!''

San thrusts into him so hard and fast he barely lets himself breathe. He feels as if he can't breathe or think or do anything else than just pound Wooyoung's hole so deeply, like he's wired to do it. The groans he releases are nearly animalistic.

Wooyoung stops him and for a moment San worries again that he did something wrong. Quickly, he pulls out his hard, wet cock. ''You okay?'' he pants.

Wooyoung gets on his hands and his knees, facing the mirror, showing San what he wants from him. San gets it immediately and positions himself behind Wooyoung, his hands holding a strong grip on his ass when he slides himself in.

''Oh fuck, Woo, you feel so perfect,'' San moans as he thrusts into him again. He wastes no time to let Wooyoung adjust, roughly fucking him to the point he can barely hold himself up.

They watch each other in the mirror. Wooyoung's face red and puffy, and he's whimpering and whining with every thrust of San's big dick inside him. His cock is swinging between his legs, pre-cum slowly dripping onto the floor.

San is still in his football shirt, his sweaty hair messily pushed back and little sweat droplets rolling down his temples.

''T-Take it off,'' Wooyoung finally orders. San reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing his wet, toned abs and chest.

Wooyoung's eyes roll back as San repeatedly hits his prostate, bringing him to the closest thing to heaven. The orgasm washes over him in an instant, and he moans loudly while he coats the floor with his cum.

''Fuck, t-that's it, my boy, making me feel so good, I fucking love that big cock inside me,'' Wooyoung moans, ''you're gonna cum too baby, come on, I feel your cock twitch inside me like crazy. I can see it in your face. I can hear it by the way you breathe and moan for me. Be my good boy and cum for me. Cum inside me, fill me up baby.''

San has never heard anyone talk so nastily and beautifully at the same time. With one more hard thrust his hips falter and he spurts his cum inside Wooyoung.

He rolls his hips a few more times to milk himself dry before pulling out. He pants, watching his sperm leak slowly out of Wooyoung's gaping hole.

''That's a good boy... You've really- fuck... You've really improved today.''

San smirks and cocks his head, looking at the younger in the mirror. ''You think?''

san was absolutely starving when he got home from work. and no, it wasn’t the “babe please cook something up for me” kind of starving. he was hungry for you. this happened very often, especially when work had taken a toll on him. all he wanted to do was be around you and stay close to you as soon as he got home.

and this time, you were the only thing on his menu.

which brought you to the present. you sank perfectly into your soft mattress, and your sheets weren’t the only thing wrapped around you. there you were—passionately making out with san. he threw his shirt across the room as soon as he saw you, now surrounding you with his embrace. his muscular, defined body was fully on display, yours to admire. your hands roamed across his back, so small compared to the massive beauty of his body.

“my princess” he spoke softly, tucking away some of the hair that had gotten in your face behind your ear. "i've been waiting for this all day"

so did you. you hated when san had to work more hours. you hated being away from him for so long, to the point where all that pent-up desire came crashing down the moment he stepped through the door.

you bit on his lip, softly, but enough to let out his sweet noises that were dear to your ears.

"why do you have to work for such a long time, hmm..? always so far from me" you pulled away from his face enough for you to make eye contact with him.

"you know i have no control over that baby" he said as he placed soft kisses around your mouth.

"but now that i'm here with you, i can make it up for you"

oh you loved the sound of that. you knew exactly where this was headed. your body clearly knew as well—you were already wet from the aggressive make-out session. and it almost seemed as if he kept turning the faucet more and more with his words.

"is that so?" you smirked, moving your body a bit away from his, enough for you to start sliding off the sweats you had on.

he stared intently at you. you could have sworn he wasn't even blinking.

"fuck, you're beautiful baby" you felt his hands land on yours, helping you pull down your sweats even faster. he swiftly brought them back up and took your shirt off as well. "mm.. i could stare at you for hours"

san wasted no time in taking off the rest of his clothes. not even a minute later, he was only left with his boxers on. the outline of his hardened cock begging to break free from its confinement made your mouth water.

"san.." you looked into his eyes with absolute need. "i wanna feel you. your touch. i wanna feel you deep inside of me" your hand slid up his body once more, moving from his chest to his pecs. "i thought about it all day, and now you're here"

"i know, i know my love" he said, "patience. i still need to grab a condom real quick"

you made a funny frown face at him, "and what if i want your cum deep inside me too?"

he was already moving towards the drawer on the side of your bed when his eyes widened. he immediately turned around facing you, "don't fucking say things like that. do you want me to go insane !?"

"yeah. i do."

his eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes shot back at the drawer—now relentlessly looking for a condom.

"um.. babe? are you sure we still have any? it feels like i've searched everywhere inside of this thing and i can't find any."

you lifted yourself up a bit, now sitting up and looking at him with a confused expression on your face. "what? there's no way we fuck that much. i could've sworn we just bought a pack"

yeah.. sure.. the hearts on almost every day of the month showing on your flo app says otherwise.

he turned around and pouted at you, "i don't think there is any in here baby. i think we ran out"

"well.. i-"

"you didn't actually think that was going to stop me from making you feel good, right?"

oh oh oh and there he goes. he's back to his favorite spot— being on top of you.

he traced swirls all around your body with his fingertips, leading his hands in between your legs. he spread them open, making room for him to place himself in. the next thing you knew, his clothed erection was sitting directly on your neglected clit. you felt your entire body get hotter by the second, your pussy throbbing around nothing.

"use me baby. grind yourself on me, make yourself feel good. "

his words sent a jolt straight through your body, making your hips buck against him instinctively. the sudden friction you felt against your pussy was delicious torture, and you couldn't help but moan out his name as he pressed his hard clothed length against you.

"there we go, look at you. you're already so wet" san growled, his voice dropping down to that specific tone that could drive you insane. "it won't be too long until i feel you soaking right through these boxers"

he began to move his hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding against you with just enough pressure to drive you wild without giving you the satisfaction you craved. his cock dragged along your clit with precise movements, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"shit," he breathed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "i could just slide into you right now baby.. hmm? no condom, no nothing." he said, grinding right on your sweet spot. "just raw, deep inside that pretty pussy of yours."

your eyes widened in shock, arousal coursing through you. you wanted to say something back, but you couldn't even open your mouth without a needy moan coming out. you suddenly arched your back as you felt him pick up his pace slightly.

"i know baby, sucks really," he chuckled, moving down to nip at your earlobe. "but we can't. not without protection. doesn't mean i can't imagine it though." he bit down even harder. "imagining filling you up with my cum until it's dripping out of you..."

"san- more.. please.." you pulled him closer, trying to create a stronger friction between the two of you. the feeling of his hard-on rubbing against your throbbing wet cunt made your eyes shut and roll back. "y-you feel so fucking good right now. i just can't stop thinking about how amazing you'd feel inside of me"

his hip stuttered in the middle of himself grinding when he heard you. if there was one thing about san, it would be how much he loved it when you talked dirty to him. well, if he were to be honest, he'd say that he has a love-hate relationship with it. he loves when you moan out filthy words as he pounds into you, but he hates how quickly they drive him off the edge and make him cum.

"babe if you keep saying- things like t-that.. " his thrusts became quicker, and the friction became hotter in between your legs. "fuck. i could cum in my fucking boxers"

his body pulled itself even closer to you, and of course, you welcomed him straight in. your arms scattered all over his back once more, pulling him in as much as you could. you wanted that release. you were dying for it. even if he couldn't give himself to you entirely at the moment, you wanted everything, anything from him.

your hips bucked upwards, grinding your clothed clit onto his erection. a burning pleasurable sensation started developing in your lower abdomen, indicating that your climax was close.

"san- baby- i want you to fill me up so badly" you begged as your want for pleasure built a peak that you could no longer bear. "fuck condoms. i want to feel your cum dripping out of me for days" you were so close to slipping his boxers off when—

his eyes widened in shock at your words, his hips suddenly stilling. "holy shit-" he groaned, his body tensing above you.

you felt a sudden warmth spreading through the fabric of his boxers as he collapsed against you, burying his face in the side of your neck. "f-fuck. i'm sorry, i- i didn't mean to- not yet. shit," he panted, his body trembling slightly from the aftermath of his climax.

you could feel the wetness soaking through his boxers onto your panties as his cock twitched against you.

but despite having just cum, he didn't pull away. instead, he began grinding against you again, his movements slower but more deliberate this time. his sensitive sticky tip rubbed against your clit, each movement making him hiss with a painful yet pleasurable feeling.

"oh san, you don't have-" you started, but he cut you off with a kiss.

"no baby, i'm not stopping until you cum too."

his determination sent another wave of arousal through your body. the thought of him pushing through his very own sensitivity just for your pleasure was intoxicating. you wrapped your legs around his waist, making his movements focus more on your clit.

"o-oh! right there," you gasped as he hit just the right spot. "don't stop, please don't stop."

his movements grew more desperate as he chased your orgasm, the damp fabric of his boxers slid more smoothly against your panties with every grind. the combination of his dirty words from earlier, the sight of him losing control, and the persistent stimulation of your oversensitive clit finally pushed you over the edge.

"mmm there she is," san brought himself up to look at you one more time before you came, and boy did you look heavenly to his eyes. it was written all over your face; you were so close to your climax.

your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your panties growing soaked with your own arousal. san continued to grind against you through your orgasm, prolonging the sensation until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

san hovered over your limp body and moved to your side, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

It’s 2:27 am on a Monday, San is still awake. You had left the day before to travel to work abroad for a week.

You told him that he could come with you but with the recent comeback his schedule is packed.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He thought about your laugh when he was tickling you as you cuddled on the couch.

He thought about your nipples that were visible through one of his t-shirts he gave you.

He thought about the beautiful noises you made every time his cock dragged along your walls, how he pressed your vibrator onto your clit as he was fucking you.

He thought about the pure bliss he experienced when you trapped him between your thighs as he devoured you.

God he was hard.

Rubbing his erection through his sweatpants, he slowly took himself out.

He spat into his hand and stroked himself slowly. His moans long and loud.

He thought about the sight of his cock disappearing inside your warm walls. The shaft getting more and more coveted from you slick.

As he stroked he applied more pressure at his tip.

“ffuck, more pl-please,” he leaned his head back against the headboard.

As he quickened his pace, he imagined if it was your hand stroking him instead.

Him laying on your chest as you play with him at your mercy.

He was so so close. Already pent up and he didn’t even have enough personal time to release all of his stress and tension.

With another stroke and more applied pressure at his tip, ropes of hot thick cum shot out.

San shot his head back and moaned your name like you were there.

Coming down from his high, he saw his phone screen flash with the name “My Baby <3.”

Seonghwa's lips were full and plump and you loved the way they pressed against your own or onto the soft delicate skin of your neck. You adored the way his cock hardened in his pants when you showed him your skin. You could not wait to see him again.

Whenever you and Seonghwa had a rendezvous in the secret garden you made sure to wear a beautiful dress, but nothing too big because it would be inconvenient. You never took it off entirely because it's a hassle to put it back on by yourself but you would always bend over, wearing nothing underneath your dress and letting your lover admire and lick your awaiting pussy.

Your heart beat loudly in your chest as you sneaked out of your room. The door was guarded by at least 10 men so you could only go out the window and pull off some acrobatic tricks for you to make it to the ground. Luckily you made it and you quickly made your way into the secret garden.

Seonghwa was exceptionally needy tonight when you spotted him in the garden, cock already stiff in his pants. He greeted you with a passionaty and needy kiss.

"I'm really hard for you right now," he breathed against your lips, "My royal highness, my queen." You smirked and pulled him closer, cupping his beautiful and soft cheeks. "I'm here darling, I'm here to take care of you."

You pushed up the shirt he had on, revealing his torso and hardened nipples. "I'm sorry I didn't have a cleaner shirt," he apologized, looking down. "Darling, it's okay, you do your best and I love you for that," you smiled, "it's fine. Let's just get started before they realize I'm gone."

You pressed kisses over his chest and moved down to his pecs, kissing and licking his nipples. Seonghwa whimpered, his breath hitching in his throat. "O-oh," he moaned out softly.

Your tongue played with the sensitive bud, slightly biting down on it, making him yelp. You quickly covered his mouth with your hand and he whimpered again. "No loud sounds," you ordered. He nodded quickly, "yes, my Queen." "That's a good boy."

His cock twitched in his pants at the feeling of your fingers playing with his nipples as your mouth worked on his neck. "Your majesty," he moaned out, fingertips trailing your hips. "Could I please, please taste you? I have been desiring it so much. Just one lick will be enough, please," he begged you.

"You can have more than one lick, my love, you can have it all," you smiled, caressing his tan skin softly before bending over and pulling the skirt of your dress up. Seonghwa gasped as he fell to his knees behind you, hands roaming the back of your thighs as he brought his tongue to your dripping cunt.

Seonghwa's long tongue slid through your glistening folds before diving deep into your core. You felt magic inside you, pure magic. Everytime your dear Seonghwa pleasured you with his mouth he got excited like when a dog gets a treat.

He was a virgin before you, a shy boy accidentally running into the queen and fearing his life for it. But you found him the most beautiful man you had ever seen, much more beautiful than any man your late father had chosen as a suitor for you. As an independant woman you wanted to choose your own suitor, which was hard while being in love with a commoner.

Even though he didn't have fair or light skin, even though his hair wasn't combed neatly, even though he was on the skinnier side, you wanted him.

During the first time you had sneaked him into your room, but he nearly got caught and you did not want to put him in any danger again so you only got to have sex outside; meaning you could not do it when it got cold outside as you feared either of you would get sick.

He had confessed to being a virgin and you knew you were supposed to be one as well, but you weren't like the other princesses, you were brave and strong and you were fierce, not one to back down and definitely one to get whatever you wanted.

You could immediately tell Seonghwa was submissive, he was truly a good boy and he followed every direction that you gave him. You had sex five times that night and many secret sessions happened after that. You trained him to be your personal toy, but not in some toxic way. You loved him and he loved the way you told him to do things and he lived to pleasure you.

Now Seonghwa ate you out like his life depended on it and you had a lot of trouble holding in your moans, but you had to be quiet, so quiet, because what if the guards found you? Dear God, you couldn't even imagine what would happen.

You felt his tongue on your clit, moving around and licking and sucking eagerly, making your empty hole clench as you felt your orgasm approaching. "Yes, yes that's a good boy, what a good boy, I'm gonna come, gonna come on your tongue, darling," you whispered as you surpressed your moans.

It only took a few more seconds for you to unravel on his tongue, coming and squirting on his gorgeous face. He moaned into your pussy as he rode out your orgasm before pulling away. He helped you pull down the skirt of your dress properly as you got up.

Seonghwa stayed down on his knees as he looked up at you with his big, beautiful brown eyes lips coated with your arousal. "Thank you, your majesty, for letting me taste you, you are the most-"

"Quiet, babyboy, quiet," you shushed him. "Take off your pants." He nodded and got rid of his pants, revealing his hard length between his slightly bruised legs. "Have you been working too hard again? You'll have to be more careful," you said as you caressed his hair. He nodded and swallowed thickly, drowning into your moonlit eyes.

You laid him down in the grass and sat on your knees, taking his hard cock in your delicate hands. You pumped his cock fast and steady in the way you knew he liked it. "O-oh, m-my queen, m-majesty!" He cried out, ''it's so good majesty, so good, so good!''

Your movements stopped quickly and you covered his mouth. You looked around, trying to hear if there was a guard who was close. "You have to stop making sounds, sweetie. I know you are feeling good, but you have to keep your mouth shut, do you understand?"

"Yes, your majesty."

Your hand wrapped around his cock again and you jerked him off, his breath quickening and his hips bucking up. "Gonna cum, precious?" You whispered. He nodded eagerly, biting his lip to stop from screaming your name.

Soon enough his white cum spurted over your hands, but you kept going and going, pumping his length in your hands. Tears formed in Seonghwa's eyes as the pleasure simply became too much, coming once again and coating your hands and his abdomen with his seeds.

"Fuck, fuck, s-stop, please," he begged you, whispering underneath his breath. "One more before I fuck you, okay? One more, one more, darling." "B-but y-your majesty," he cried out.

"WHO IS THERE?"

Your hand covered his mouth as you kept on pumping his dick up and down as you heard two guards shuffling around. They can't find you, you made sure of that. They could never find you, so you kept going as Seonghwa looked at you with fear in his eyes. Tears fell down his cheeks as his body trembled with pleasure.

You didn't say a thing but you held eyecontact, so he'd know he was okay and you were gonna keep going, you were gonna make him cum and then you were gonna fuck him. Tonight you would let him cum inside you, tonight you would. He had been so good, he deserved it. So when Seonghwa came again and coated your hands white you lifted up your heavy skirt and sank down on his sensitive dick. You pulled him up and held your hand in front of his mouth, ordering him to lick it clean.

His pink tongue grazed your hand and licked his cum off, savoring the salty flavour as you rode his long rigid cock. You felt his length hit all the good spots inside you as his hips bucked up into you. "Oh my God," he cried out as he muffled his own moans with his hand.

You held him close and nearly pressed his face into your bosom. He inhaled your scent and wrapped his arms around you as his breathing picked up. So did yours and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Cum inside me tonight, fill me up babyboy, you've been so good," you breathed out. He sobbed out of pleasure and came hard, filling your cunt up entirely. The twitching of his cock made you clench around him and cum hard. You threw your head back and panted out his name as you rode out your orgasms.

When you had calmed down you held him for a while and cleaned him as much as you could. You said your goodbyes again and promised to see him again in exactly four months; when the cold season will be fading away and the cherry blossoms will arrive.

You sigh and rub your eyebrow tiredly. This has been the seventh take of what was supposed to be a tasteful, slightly corny, but by EVERY means for the female eye porno. Your female actor was too used to acting it up for the male gaze and it was fucking with your vision.

You pull off your headphones and stomp over to the scene in the laundromat. “Let me show you what I want.”

Park Seonghwa, in his short top and jeans slung low, underwear band playing peekaboo and tanned skin out for display, stood leaning back against the washing machines, double stacked. 

“Can I touch you?” You make a point of asking. You may be in the porn industry but it was especially important that the actors feel comfortable. When Seonghwa nods slowly, like he’s a deer in the headlights, you begin your example.

You looked pointedly at the female star, who was casually tying a robe over her skimpy clothes. You grabbed Seonghwa's hips, firmly pushing him up against the machine. “You’re the one in power. It’s taking two men to pleasure you,” You instruct.

You run the tip of your nose along the seam of skin that Seonghwa is flashing. “You’re enjoying yourself. You want to feel the heat of his skin against your tongue, like you could drink it off him.”

Seonghwa watches you with wide eyes. He’s a vet in the porno world but he’s never been manhandled like this before. Especially by the director of all things.

“You want to hear his noises, hear him moan. You can be drunk off your power and loving it but moaning for no reason is really going to throw a female viewer off,” You say, head still at height with Seonghwa’s crotch.

“And then--” You look over your shoulder at the newbie, San. “Come over here, San.”

Choi San, a rising star with an equally slutty waist, pads over hesitantly where you’re bent over in front of Seonghwa. His eyes are shaky, looking hesitant as his hands hover. 

“Now San is enjoying what he’s seeing. He wants a piece too. But he has to be a good boy if he’s going to share,” You continue your narrative.

“Good boy?’ San squeaks.

You sigh. “Yes. Now put your hands on my hips.”

San’s hot hands grip your hips firmly. He may be a newbie but he was good at his job. 

“So while you’re busy sucking Seonghwa off, because you do so enjoy the weight of him on your tongue, San is nudging up against you, begging for access. You can pop off Seonghwa to answer San, but it has to be a place of power. You’re not begging him to fuck you. He’s gotta show that it’s worth taking the two of them at the same time.”

“Wow,” is all the female star can say. 

You stand up suddenly and clap. “Got it?” Both San and Seonghwa nod quickly in response. You smile, full of sunshine. “Good. Let’s go for another take.”

You sit in your chair, pulling your headphones back on, and sitting forward in your chair. “And action!”

The female star takes her cues from you very well, changing her attitude immediately. Seonghwa appears as melted candy in her hands and it’s exactly what you wanted. You did a careful pandown of Seonghwa’s body, from top to bottom. You managed to capture his eyebrows curved inward and the pop of his full lips as his teeth let them go. 

You raised your hand to silently count down until San entered the scene. His eyes were hooded as he took in the scene before him. Bronze skin on display because of the hot weather made him even more readily available than Seonghwa. Suddenly, the main female star has more options than she thought. You smiled inwardly, feeling glee at the female empowerment. 

The next hour or so goes seamlessly and you call for a break. 

Seonghwa and San make a beeline for you, after your assistant took your afternoon coffee order. 

“Can we get some notes for the next scene?” San asks eagerly. 

“We?’ You raise an eyebrow in Seonghwa’s direction.

The older actor nods enthusiastically. “It’s been eye opening to hear your perspective.”

You turn around to head to the back door of the laundromat. You crook two fingers to guide the two actors behind you. “My trailer has air conditioning. Let's go boys.”

Once inside, reclining against the sink, you open your script to refresh yourself. The next scene was the actress getting double timed by the two men. San takes a seat on the bench with the table and Seonghwa sits on the other end. 

“So this next part, after being spitroasted by the two of you, is…” You lick your finger and flip the pages. 

Upon the pause in your words, San pipes up. “You never acted, did you?”

Your gaze slowly rises above the script pages. “Why do you ask?”

Seonghwa exchanges a long glance with San. “Well, it just seems you have a lot of experience with this. And considering how you want to change the perception…”

“I’ve had a couple of indie films that were sensual enough that I had a few porn production companies ask me to try my hand at one of their films. I knew I wasn’t going to produce anything that they’d like. Or that they’d butcher my script. But when a female run company approached me, I knew it was time,” You provide.

“So… this vision comes from different experience?’ San continues. 

You chuckle lowly. “Are you asking me if this comes from personal experience, San?”

San scratches the back of his head. “I mean… does it?”

Cheeky bugger, this one. “Can’t film a porn if I’m an innocent soul, hmmm?” You hum.

“Well, no, what I mean is--!” San sputtered and you found it cute.

“She’s playing with you, San.” Seonghwa claps the younger’s back. “The script is definitely yours,” he says to you. “I can feel your voice right now and it is so similar to the narrative.”

You can’t help but shrug. “A woman in power is a heady thing.” You straighten your spine to get back into the professional head space. “Back to the script, the scene--”

“It’s my turn, right?” Seonghwa interrupts your train of thought. 

You lay down the script. “Exactly. The main character has decided what she’s had in her mouth she’d like to feel inside of her. And she can’t leave out her new toy, so she decides she’ll take San from behind.”

“Can you show us?” San wonders. 

Casting was easy with this one. You had judged him too quickly when he had walked into the room. Natural bitch face had you pegging him as one of those ‘take’er from behind and slap that ass’ type man. But the minute he read your script, wet eyes big and begging, you knew he’d be perfect. 

“The position is that San, with his arms, is going to hold the female up and open for Seonghwa,” You supply. 

Seonghwa stood up along with San. “Won’t that be uncomfortable for her?”

“She’s been warned. A few stretches will do wonders for her,” You shake your head.

“I think he means, would that really be comfortable if they were truly having sex?” San clarifies.

You frown. “Well, no, it’s actually quite easy--”

San’s hands descend on your shoulders, having taken his place behind you. Oh. They wanted that kind of show. Whatever helped them film the scene better, you supposed. 

You lean a little bit against San’s firm chest. “So, to start you’re gonna lift one of her legs by the back of her thigh. You want to almost brag to Seonghwa that you came inside her first. Your cum should be dripping out of her, and Seonghwa says--”

“--I can’t see that well, lift her other leg,” Seonghwa supplies in a sultry tone.

You nod. “Exactly so then--” You can’t help but squeal as San puts you in the position that the female actor is going to be. His hands grip your thighs firmly, immediately burning a handprint through your leggings. 

“I’m turned on by another man’s cum dripping out of your pussy or I’m simply eager to add my own to the mix?” Seonghwa wonders. 

“Uh, well, I was thinking the latter,” You supply.

Seonghwa nods slowly like he’s absorbing your words. “But San’s got no way to maneuver himself inside of you. He’s using his hands to hold you up.”

You’d let the freudian slips go. “If you check the script, it says that--”

San begins to lift you slowly up. “Aren’t I supposed to let my cum run down your cunt and coat my cock?”

Okay, one of them making a mistake you could accept but the both of them? “Her cunt. Yes, and then--”

“Can I help him?” Seonghwa asks. 

He’s awfully close to you now, his lips turned inward as if he’s anticipating your response.

“To put himself inside of her?” You ask. Seonghwa nods. “Well, I suppose that adlib wouldn’t be horrible. I wasn’t exactly looking to festishize two males in this one, though.”

“It’s just one bro helping another. What if he slips while trying to push in?” Seonghwa supplies.

San’s most definitely getting turned in by the conversation. His bulge is between your ass cheeks now. He must be trying to figure out how high he’ll have to raise you--her---so that he can penetrate the asshole. 

“So, we can practise this on set with your co-star. Now if you’ll just let me down, San.” You wait but you don’t feel the release of San’s muscles. “San?”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we practised more?” Seonghwa meets your gaze, eyes searching out yours. 

You raise both eyebrows. “I think this is plenty, don’t you?”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “I thought I’d help a newbie out. San’s not done anal on camera before. We should pop his cherry before you get back in your directing chair.”

Well, that’s a new one. 

“With me.” You state.

“Who better to practise with than the one with the vision? You can give us notes afterwards. Learning first hand would give me such an edge moving forward,” San murmurs into your ear. 

Your nipples tighten under your shirt. Instead, you say, “This is so unprofessional.” You squirm slightly in San’s grasp but he adjusts quickly, not letting you go. 

Seonghwa shakes his head, his fringe in his eyes making him blink cutely, helping his case. “Surely not. It’s our profession and yours. You tell us where to go, just like on set, and we’ll follow your lead. You’ve got the lines memorized, right, San?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” San says, straight from the script and going right to your stomach, curling there like a purring cat.

“Don’t you want this too?” You reply with a husky voice, unable to help your tone. 

“It’s more important that this is what you need,” Seonghwa purrs. 

“I need both of you inside of me.” Your voice is wobbling by now. 

“This is in the way though,” Seonghwa muses.

“No no, wait--!”

Before you get a chance to tell Seonghwa to not ruin your only pair of pants on set, Seonghwa's already tearing the crotch apart. The satisfying ripping sound is like music to your director’s ears, however. 

Seonghwa lets out a very male chuckle. “Oh, she’s gooey.”

“Excuse you,” You cough out. 

“It’s too bad it isn’t my cum though,” San laments. 

Jesus, how long had these two been planning this? Was it because of your demonstration earlier? 

“Good point,” Seonghwa agrees, lips pursed in thought. 

“Where else are you going to get lube at a laundromat?” You laugh weakly. 

“Mmmm, spit will just have to do,” San says.

“Oh no, young padewan,” Seonghwa shakes his head, his shoulders moving with silent laughter. “Spit will dry too quickly. Get inside of her cunt first, coat yourself with her wetness, then fuck her ass.”

“Oh, pro tips coming from a pro, huh?” You can hear the grin in San’s voice.

“Also you’re putting the cart before the horse. You have to get out of your pants first,” Seonghwa says with a crooked, playful grin.

“Weren’t you supposed to be helping me with that?” San reminds Seonghwa.

Seonghwa looks at you inquiringly. “Well, Director? What do you think?”

“Tease--” You croak so you have to clear your throat. “Tease him.”

Seonghwa looks over your shoulder to San. “You didn’t say anything earlier.”

“Please, Papi, tease me,” San coos and then laughs. 

The joking between them relaxes some muscles in you. Two men being at ease with each other, especially on set, was settling whatever nerve had been holding you back.

“That’s it, sweetheart, use my chest to relax. It’s us pleasing you, remember?” San murmurs.

Those plush lips of his brush along your neck and you find yourself turning your head to give him better access. When San moans into the crook of your neck, you know that Seonghwa has found his target. 

“There we go, I didn’t even have to do anything,” Seonghwa whispers quietly. “Sannie was nice and hard for you already. Now we just have to get him inside of you.”

Seonghwa angles San so that the younger man can penetrate you. You and San groan in unison as he slides right into you without any resistance. With all of your weight in San’s hands and arms, the pornstar flexes his abdomen and shallowly thrusts inside of you. You whimper at the stimulation. 

“Just enough to coat it,” Seonghwa reminds San. “Remember, that’s my hole.”

“Yeah yeah,” San grumbles. “She’s clamping down on me so hard though. It’s like she doesn’t want me to leave.”

You’ve got a problem on your hands: you’re already dumb on San’s cock. 

“No no, don’t leave,” You moan. “So good.”

Seonghwa grips your chin to bring you back to reality. “C’mon, lover, don’t go soft on us now.”

“So good,” You whine.

Seonghwa captures your lips in a kiss. “God, you’re cute when you’re pussy drunk.”

“No!’ You whimper as San slowly pulls out of you.

“It’s okay,” San reassures you. “I won’t leave you empty for long.”

With the aid of Seonghwa again, San penetrates your puckered hole, more slowly this time. When he’s full hilt inside of you, you mewl when he doesn’t make any movement.

“So demanding,” Seonghwa jokes, flipping to the script. 

You attempt to pull some moisture into your mouth by licking your lips. One of your hands clasps the back of Seonghwa’s neck. “You better finish inside of me before my loads are done, otherwise, I’ll be the one you never finished.”

Seonghwa flashes you a crooked, slow smile that makes your insides melt even more. “It would be my pleasure.”

Seonghwa’s hand moves to the small of your back to push your lower half further out, somewhat pulling San out of you but pushing into you nonetheless. 

“Oh, oh my god,” You curse at just how full it is to feel this way. Again. 

“That’s not the line, Miss Director. Should we call cut and roll it back?” San wonders. He pulls you back down on his length, pulling Seonghwa out. 

“No, no, I can do it,” You gasp, pulling yourself back from the lust-fog that’s covered your mind. “I want to feel like you’re fucking me on the washing machine, come on boys,” You whine. 

Then it’s off to the races as the two pornstars fuck you like they’re being filmed. You can feel San’s body rolling behind you, small puffs of air hitting the back of your neck. Seonghwa almost doesn’t have to do anything to move in and out of you, so he takes advantage of his free hands and holds your head in place for messy kisses. San whines about being left out and you watch in awe as the two exchange a kiss full of tongue and saliva. 

“I’m not going to last very long,” You admit. 

“I thought it took two dicks to even make you come?” Seonghwa counters with the lines from the script.

“It’s just so good. I forgot. Oh please please please don’t slow down. You’ve got to recover and then we’ve got to shoot and--”

Any further real life invasive thoughts are gone as Seonghwa sucks his thumb and then begins to rub your clit. 

“Let’s see you come, Director,” Seonghwa suggests.

“Are your come noises pornographic?” You could picture the adorable eye smile of San’s right now at his pun.

Your back arches, your toes point, and your legs spread as you come hard enough to see stars behind your eyes. You don’t even attempt to quiet your groans as they both fuck you through your orgasm and search out their own. 

“Fu-fill me up,” You manage to stutter.

San’s first to go, bringing his hips flush to your ass and releasing with a low groan. He holds your legs wide as Seonghwa finishes next, nose scrunched up and unloading everything he’s got. 

“Not sure our co-star will be able to live up to that performance,” Seonghwa teases you.

“Oh god,” You moan. “San let go of my legs. One at a time, mind you, please.”

San does as you ask, Seonghwa’s hand firmly on your waist in aid. Your face heats up as you feel both loads of cum slowly start to leak out of you. You clench as hard as you can with both holes. 

“No one speaks of this,” You command.

San dips his head, his eyes searching out yours. “Because this is going to happen more often or..?”

Seonghwa starts to laugh at the rookie’s insistence. “That can be the price for our silence,” he offers, eyes shining with amusement. 

You rub your eyebrows in worry. “We’ll figure out the semantics later. Clean up and I’m going to see if my assistant can’t find me another pair of leggings.”

“No notes?” San pouts.

“I think the fact that she was dick-drunk was enough,” Seonghwa supplies.

When both male pornstars leave your trailer, you hear the perky voice of the female actress from outside of your trailer.

“Where have you two been?” She wonders.

“Getting notes from the director,” San says immediately. 

“She’s great, isn’t she?” the female actress sighs happily.

“Oh, better than you can imagine,” Seonghwa confirms.